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malleleothreesome · 10 months

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Stage Sex - Fellow Honest x Fem Reader (Part One)

🌟 summary: Fellow convinces you to become his latest star, taking your virginity shibari style in front of a live audience. ༶༶༶ 🌟 warnings: afab fem reader. Porn with plot – if the plot is him convincing you to partake in the porn. I didn't write this with the intent of it being dubcon (in my mind, reader is a willing participant, and I never describe her as otherwise), but please err on the side of caution if you're sensitive to that. It's starring Fellow Honest, after all – he comes prepackaged with manipulation skills. He does use a bit of his UM after reader already consents, and I refer to his magic as hypnosis, playing into the fact that you're obedient to him and he can use you as he pleases. There is a MAJOR VOYEURISM theme to this. He calls you names like "good girl", "slut" and "whore". In part 1 he helps bring you to clitoral orgasm for the first time while he jerks himself off. Also a few lines of cunnilingus and some fingering. Shibari bondage starts in part 2, additional warnings will be listed there. Please let me know in the comments if I missed a warning or tag idk I haven't written something of this caliber before. ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 7.2k words because I'm DERANGED ༶༶༶ 🌟 song: Carousel - Melanie Martinez "And it's all fun and games... 'til somebody falls in love"

Fellow Honest’s tail swung back and forth. He had certainly done his research, and all of that hard work would finally pay off. He watched as you entered the theme park, skulking in the shadows behind the rest of the students. You struck him as an outcast—no friends, no family. A beautiful girl from another world, with a figure that would make even the Gods themselves lust after. The only magicless human girl at the all boy’s magic college. Nothing to lose. How perfect.

“Hello, Miss…?” Fellow’s eyebrow raises as he tilts his head, leaning towards you on his cane. His calculated, fox-like eyes drink in every inch of you. Extending his right arm out to you, he welcomes your hand into his.

“Y/N,” you answer, a bit startled at his overt friendliness. Yet, you allow his white satin glove to grasp firmly around your hand.

“What a lovely name for such a breathtaking woman.” He bows forward to kiss your hand, maintaining fierce eye contact. In one swift motion, he turns toward his amusement park, wipes his mouth clean of your touch, and proudly waves his arm in the air to show off his property.

“Miss Y/N! Welcome to Playfulland!” he boasts. He turns back toward you, weaseling his way deeper into your personal space. “It is an incredibly rare occasion to welcome someone as beautiful as you into my humble little park.”

You dismiss his praise with a flick of your palm and a shake of your head, desperately hoping not to blush. “Oh, no need to be so modest, dear. A shape like yours could make any man fall in love. I doubt the students at the college are the only ones that appreciate it.” A sly smile is plastered on his face while his eyes continue to look you up and down with intention. Your mind runs wild as you try not to absolutely melt into his praise. “Are you sure you’re not a talking doll? It’s a marvel that a woman so flawless could exist.”

You smile softly and look to the ground, cheeks burning. You tuck a strand of hair awkwardly behind your ear, stalling for composure. How are you supposed to respond to a handsome, magnetic stranger saying all the right things? Not a single soul has spoken so highly of you since you found yourself trapped in this world, forced to attend Night Raven College. Your growing ego leaves you no choice but to soak it all in.

“Tell me, Miss Y/N. Have you ever thought about becoming a performer?” He doesn’t pause to let you answer. “Why waste your valuable early 20’s by studying and attending lectures and surrounding yourself with pathetic boys? Women as blessed as you are don’t need a degree. Surely a wealthy man can care for you far beyond a measly degree. And while you wait for him, why not fill your days with fame, riches, and adoration from performing on my stage?”

You stand in a stunned silence. This guy isn’t holding anything back, is he? Charm and charisma ooze from each syllable, making your heart race. It feels a little wrong, basking in the praise of a stranger like this. But you feel beyond lonely and underappreciated at NRC. You long to feel wanted and cared about. Why not give this attractive, complimentary man a chance?

Before you know it, the fox beastman's arms are wrapped around your torso, pulling you closer to him. "Oh, how rude I am!" he exclaims. "I haven't even given you my name."

"Allow me to properly introduce myself." With a quick spin of his heels, he steps back and bows, taking your hand once again. "The name's Fellow Honest, owner of Playfulland." He lifts his head, keeping his eyes locked on yours. "But please, you're welcome to call me whatever you'd like." He winks.

You could have sworn you felt a physical spark. Suddenly lightheaded, you pull your hand from his grasp, heart pounding in your chest. You can't take your eyes off him. You can't tell if your nervous system is trying to tell you to run towards or away from him. The longer you stare into his fire-orange eyes, the weaker your knees feel. He’s so close you can feel the heat emanating off of his body—is his perfume made of magic?

Something inside of you urges you to step away and re-evaluate. "Uh... I should probably get back to my friends," you stammer, trying to get your legs to move. "I'm sure they're wondering where I went. Thank you for the, uh, offer, though. I’ll think about it."

Fellow's arm is suddenly around your waist yet again, his fingers pressed firmly against your lower back as he pulls you close. Your eyes widen and your breathing hitches as you make contact with his chest. You feel his lips brush against your ear, and he whispers, "I have to insist, my dear. My employees are quite skilled, but you'd be the best thing that has graced my stage in years. It would be an honor to have someone of your caliber work for me."

His proximity. His hot breath on your ear. His possessive touch digging into the soft skin of your back. You feel a familiar flutter deep in between your thighs—you like this. You want to protest, to push him away, but the electricity between you is hypnotizing. His aroma—sweet wine and fresh roses—only adds to the spell, drowning out all logic and giving way to your body’s desperate pleas to take the lead.

"I have an office inside the theater where we can discuss this further, if you'd like," he purrs, and you can feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin. "And please, take all the time you need. You're welcome to stay the night. We have luxurious rooms available—a small taste of the lifestyle you’d have if you make the right choice. I'll have someone escort you back to campus if you change your mind."

Your eyes dart around, desperately looking for a familiar face—a way out. Where the Hell did Ace go?! What about Leona or Trey–surely your upperclassmen should have stuck around to make sure the only magically defenseless student isn’t being taken advantage of by any sexy, suspicious strangers. Not to mention the fact that you’re the only girl at school. Chivalry must be extinct in Twisted Wonderland. You feel your heart drop: maybe they never cared about you at all.

Fellow's tail flicks in excitement as he watches your expression. Your eyes are wide and panicked, and he can sense your desperation. He smothers his own smile as your body language slowly indicates defeat. How utterly effortless! He has you right where he wants you. You're his to play with, and no one is there to stop him.

"Come now, dear, it won't hurt to indulge a little," Fellow coos sweetly. Your brain short circuits, blocking all thoughts unrelated to the electrifying feeling of his slender fingers dancing along your waistline. "You're already here! Why not stay and have some fun?" His lips find their way to your neck and you let out a soft gasp as a pulsing warmth radiates from your cunt.

"Fine," you finally whisper.

Fellow chuckles victoriously against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. "I knew you’d be such a good girl." He spins you around, the sexual tension forcibly dissipating as he rips you from your lascivious thoughts and begins walking you down the cobblestone path. His hand rests on the small of your back, and his cane taps merrily against the concrete as you go. Your mind is still reeling from the shocking exchange, and you can barely match his pace as he escorts you to the grand theater.

You stifle a blush as you hear park goers whisper amongst themselves, eyes glued on you, mouths falling open. "Who is that? Is she a celebrity?”

“She looks like a supermodel,” a woman chimes in, her tone covetous.

Fellow would never waste an opportunity for free advertisement. He turns his head toward the group as you both keep walking. “Stick around ‘til after dark and you might just see this beauty show it all off on my grand stage!” He shouts, waving his cane in the air.

The two of you enter the theater and Fellow wastes no time leading you up the stairs toward a private hallway. His hand never leaves your waist. You pass several doors before reaching a pair of large, heavy wooden doors, which Fellow opens with ease.

You can't help but gawk at the size of his office. A massive, ornate wooden desk sits in the middle of the room, flanked by shelves lined with books and trinkets. There's a fireplace and two plush leather couches, as well as a small bar in the corner of the room.

"Please, make yourself at home," Fellow says as he closes the door behind him. He makes his way over to the bar, grabbing a bottle of wine with two glasses. You perch on one of the leather couches and he joins you, placing the wine and glasses on the table in front of you. As you inspect his office, you can't help but feel drawn to a mannequin adorned with a gorgeous bejeweled brassiere and matching pants—if there’s enough coverage to even call them that. Your faces heat up, and you quickly turn away.

"Beautiful, isn't it? One of my favorites," Fellow says, following your gaze. "Unfortunately, no one has had the pleasure of modeling it just yet." He furrows his brows in disappointment. He pops the cork on the wine bottle and begins to pour. "Maybe tonight will be the night. How lucky for me that I have the perfect model."

Something is starting to feel very exciting about all of this. You’ve never had an opportunity to wear such a costume. After being enrolled in Night Raven College only because Crowley didn't know what else to do with you, being here is starting to feel quite freeing. And the way Fellow looks at you… you’ve never felt more attractive. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, gifting you the courage and desire to be exactly who he believes you to be.

"Would you like to try it on?"

The question catches you off guard. He's now looking smugly at you. Your cheeks flush red, but you hold eye contact.

"Wh-what?"

"The outfit, Darling," Fellow says, nodding his head toward the mannequin. "You can try it on if you'd like." You take a long sip of red wine, savoring the smooth fruitiness. It immediately goes to your head, and you can't help but down the rest of it.

"Come now, Love," Fellow says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "We both know what you want."

You stare at the outfit and then back at him. Your whole body feels like it's on fire. This is a bad idea, right? Or is it?

"Okay," you say, almost surprising yourself.

Fellow claps his hands together in delight. "Wonderful! Don't worry, I'm a gentleman—I'll look away while you get changed."

You make your way over to the mannequin, wobbling a bit from the alcohol. The bra is a dark purple while the jewels are varying shades of blue, making the whole outfit glitter like the night sky. The "pants" are a matching, dark purple lace thong, with ribbon and jewel embellishments. There is a sparkling, sheer miniskirt attached, more of an accentuation than actual coverage. You reach out to touch the fabric, marveling at how silky it feels. It's so sexy. Imagining yourself wearing it on stage in front of thousands of people, with everyone staring at you, craving you, makes you a bit wet with excitement. Maybe you do want this.

You look at Fellow one more time to ensure he’s not peeping.

Reader, take note that Fellow is, in fact, peeping—through his pocket mirror that he is blocking with his body. He’s far too good at this.

Feeling secure, you unbutton your uniform blazer, letting it slide off your shoulders and onto the floor. You undo the buttons of your shirt next, slowly exposing your bare chest.

Fellow bites his lip as he stares into the mirror, watching in awe as you undress. Your body is even more incredible than he could have imagined.

You slip off your shorts and underwear next, leaving you completely naked except for your bra. Your hands fumble a bit as you unhook the costume, letting it fall to the floor.

Fellow feels his pants tighten.

You can feel yourself getting more aroused, the excitement of being naked in a room with a stranger—soon to show off a revealing costume—starts to go to your head. You grab the brassiere off the mannequin, throwing your arms through the loops, eager to see if you look as good in it as you hope you will.

Fellow takes his sweet time watching in the pocket mirror. He grins, pleased with your inexperience, watching carefully so that he can see every inch of your struggle, savoring in it. “Oh, how easy this is,” he thinks.

After finally finding the right combination of hooks and clasps, you manage to get the brassiere fastened. You gasp softly, feeling the cool jewels press against your nipples through sheer fabric. You can't help but feel like it was made specially for you. The way it pulls your boobs together to create perfect, plump cleavage gives you actual pride. You shimmy the panties on next, loving the way the lacy fabric rubs against your clit as you pull the thong taut against your hips—a tingling reminder that your body is desperate for any sort of friction that may be interpreted as pleasure. You give your ass a little shake as you put on the skirt, reveling in how good the material feels as it brushes against your bare skin. Engrossed in your own experience, you’re completely unaware that you're giving Fellow quite the show.

He can't help but lick his lips, reaching down to massage his groin through his slacks.

You spin around and strike a pose for your imaginary crowd, feeling powerful.

"Are you ready, my love?" Fellow asks, startling you out of your daydream.

He pockets his mirror and adjusts the front of his pants, trying to disguise his erection as best he can.

"I'm ready."

"Show me what you've got," he says. You both turn around to face each other and he gasps, his eyes widening and mouth falling open.

"My goodness, darling," he whispers. "You're exquisite."

The way he's looking at you makes you feel like the sexiest woman alive. You take a step forward, heart pounding in your chest. Fellow stands up, taking his cane in his hand. He walks over to you and stalks circles around you, gazing up and down as though inspecting merchandise. You yelp as his cold, hard cane smacks your ass.

Finally he stops directly in front of you, meeting your gaze once again. "Oh, Darling, you're an absolute vision." He cups your cheek with his hand, rubbing his thumb across your lips. He wears a sinister smile, and you feel your mouth run dry as you finally realize how sharp his fangs are. You're almost certain he can tell how turned on you are right now.

He pulls away to replenish your wine glass.

"I can't wait to see you dance, my dear. You're going to be a star." He gazes dramatically into the distance, waving his hand like he’s envisioning your name written in dazzling lights. He hands you the full glass and you gulp it down greedily, eager for the liquid courage. You don't even care that this man is a total stranger—it actually makes it hotter.

"Oh, one more thing," Fellow says. He stands up and walks over to the mannequin, opening a drawer next to it and grabbing a matching set of lacy thigh highs. He kneels down in front of you, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he slips the stockings onto your feet. He repeats the process on your other leg, taking his time to run his hands up and down your thighs.

You bite your lip and look away, feeling embarrassed by how wet you are. He's so close to where you want him to touch you, and you're not sure how much longer you can stand this before giving in and doing something you might later regret.

Fellow stands up, his hands gliding up your legs as he does. He gently grabs your chin and tilts your head up so you're forced to look at him.

"What a naughty little minx," he whispers. "You're practically dripping." He smirks, once again bearing his fangs in the process.

Your eyes widen, cheeks flushing pink.

Fellow laughs. "Oh, there's no use hiding it, love. I can smell it." He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your arousal. "It’s heavenly."

God dammit. You can't help but throw your head back in frustration from being outed so easily. Never underestimate a beastman's sense of smell.

He lets go of your chin and steps away from you. You let out a shaky breath you didn't realize you were holding.

"Don't worry, darling," he says, making his way back to the bar. "I'll make sure you're properly taken care of." He refills his glass and downs it. He doesn't know how long he's going to be able to wait until he's inside you.

You try to get back on track to a more... professional topic. "So, is this the type of outfit I would wear if I were to perform?" You try to sound as innocent as possible.

Fellow laughs a slow, deranged, almost maniacal laugh that makes your skin crawl. "Oh, no, darling. Outfits like these are reserved for the backup dancers. With the plans I have for you, you'll be wearing far less." He sets his wine glass on his desk and opens one of the drawers, pulling out a roll of thin, dark brown rope. Your heart pounds in your chest as he walks toward you, unraveling the rope as he goes.

You stumble backwards instinctively and even in your drunken haze, you start trying to take note of your surroundings and look for the exit. "Is this a joke?" you ask, trying to sound as calm as possible. "You know you don't need to tie me up if you want me to stay, right?" You try your best to reason with him and hope to God you didn’t put yourself in harm’s way.

"Oh, I'm not tying you up to get you to stay, Miss Y/N." He puts on his most pleasant and agreeable facial expression, lips contorting into an innocent cat-like smile, eyes crinkled as he feigns benevolence. "It smells to me like you'd do that all on your own. Am I correct?" He tilts his head toward you and gazes into your soul with piercing, knowing eyes.

He makes a show of walking over to the door and opening it, waving his hand through the open air of the doorframe. "Make no mistake, I'm certainly not forcing you to stay here. You are welcome to leave right now. I'll even let you keep the outfit, if you’d like." He gives you a knowing smirk and continues to hold the door open.

You gulp, feeling the familiar heat between your thighs grow stronger. Your mind is racing, trying to think of every possible rationalization to feel safe staying—anything to get your pussy the relief it deserves. If he really was a predator—you try to reason with yourself—you'd probably be dead by now. And he was right, you do feel like you could get off, just from being tied up. Your body seems to be the decision-maker here, and it’s telling you to stay.

You shake your head at his offer. "No, I'm good."

"Wonderful," he purrs, his expression darkening. He slams the door shut and turns the lock, letting the thud of the door ricochet through your body. "Now then! The reason I am tying you up is for your performance. Just a few short hours until showtime!" He steps forward, closing the gap between you. He runs his fingertips down your bare arm, stopping to wrap them around your wrist. You shiver at his touch, your body instinctively leaning toward him, yearning for more. Your face flushes red with embarrassment and arousal. You don't understand how he's able to turn you on so easily.

"You see, my dear," Fellow begins, his voice soft and seductive, "I'm not the only one who's been watching you hungrily." You feel his hot breath on your neck as he brings his lips close to your ear. "Believe me, Doll, they're going to love what they see." He takes your hand in his and places it on the bulge in his pants. His cock throbs beneath his clothes and your eyes widen at how big he is.

"I'm not just a magician, but a master of hypnosis as well," he elucidates.

He's never before been so forthcoming in his whole career, but there's just something about you that makes him want to be upfront.

Truthfully, he hasn't had to use any hypnosis magic at all to persuade you. No, you wanted this on your own. Despite your innocence and reluctance—you wanted him. His cold heart skips a beat at the thought. He releases your hand and once again cups your cheek. He pushes a thumb past your lips and forces you to suck on it. A deep moan escapes his lips as the sensation of your soft tongue against his thumb runs straight to his aching loins. Removing his thumb from your mouth, he slides it down your chin, tracing your jawline before moving to your neck. You arch your back and press your body against his, feeling the tip of his thumb press along your jugular, sending chills down your spine.

"And I can assure you that by the time I'm done with you, you'll be the perfect little hypnotized whore." You shudder as his tongue traces the side of your neck—it feels so good. He continues to drag his tongue up to your ear, and you moan loudly as he suckles your earlobe. Your knees are giving out, so you wrap your arms around him for support. "That's the beauty of my magic, love. No prior experience necessary. I'll ensure you put on the show of a lifetime. Simply allow yourself to enjoy the ride." You whimper softly, unable to form coherent thoughts or speak intelligibly, too caught up in the way he's pleasuring you.

"But don't worry, Love," he says, his voice low and raspy. "You'll still remember everything when we're done."

Your head is dizzy, trying desperately to process his every word. You can't stop yourself from moaning as his hands continue to explore. As far as the current circumstances go, nothing matters, as long as he’s making you feel this damn good. He takes his time groping and squeezing wherever—and whatever—he can get his greedy hands on, relishing in the opportunity to touch your perfect frame.

Looking into your eyes, he's suddenly overcome with emotion—unusual for him. This isn't something he's ever done with his employees, but there is a twinge in his chest willing him to do it. Perhaps—just this once—he can deviate from the script. Fellow hungrily crashes his lips against yours, kissing you passionately. You melt against him, opening your mouth to grant him entry. You feel yourself losing control as he dominates your mouth, exploring every inch with his tongue. You grip onto his hair, pulling him closer. His fangs lightly graze your bottom lip and it makes you shiver. The way he kisses you is so possessive and needy, and it's driving you wild. You've never been kissed like this before. His hands travel down your body and grip your ass tightly, causing you to yelp. Your hands claw at his blue coat and green vest, desperately trying to remove his clothes so you can feel his bare skin. He growls into your mouth before breaking the kiss.

"Eager little thing, aren't you?" he murmurs against your lips.

You nod in response, gasping when he suddenly pulls away. Seeing how needy you are, he smirks, delighted at how much you want him.

"Oh, Darling. Why don't you save that for the audience?" he teases. "You're going to put on a good show for them, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'll do my best. I promise I'll make you proud," you gasp, feeling even more aroused by his words.

"That's a good girl." Fellow paces the room, circling you like a vulture. You can feel his eyes on you and can't help but squirm under his gaze. He grabs the rope from earlier, stopping right in front of you. His cane appears in his grasp, seemingly out of thin air. "Such a perfect little slut, so eager to please. I bet you'd do anything I asked you to, wouldn't you?" he asks, spinning his cane with the flick of his fingers, utilizing his hypnosis magic for the first time that day. He needs to ensure your loyalty lies with him.

"Yes." You answer without reluctance.

Fellow's cane magically disappears from his hand. "Such a good little whore." He takes a strand of your hair in his fingers and twirls it before gently tucking it behind your ear. "Now, a few more formalities before we get you ready for the stage. Shall we?" You flinch at the sound of him smacking the rope against the floor, like he's trying to command a circus animal.

Your mind is fuzzy, body practically burning with desire—you don't even notice him guiding you to his desk. He bends you over the hard wood, your breasts and stomach pressing against the cool surface. He presses his body against yours, his erection grinding between your ass cheeks, and you can't help but moan. Fellow rips off his gloves, tossing them aside. His right hand snakes around your body and reaches into your panties, his fingers rubbing against your wet clit. He slips a finger inside you—finally.

"My, my…" he whispers. "So wet for me already. You’ll look so beautiful when you're on stage for everyone to see. My precious little toy."

Your breathe heavier as he continues to fuck you with his finger, tantalizingly slow. Just as you open your mouth to beg for more, he slips his finger out of you and slams a contract on the table in front of you.

"I need you to sign this first. Standard contract," he says casually. "This is a business, after all." He drops a pen within your reach. All the while, he continues grinding against you, his clothed cock rubbing against the sheer fabric of your panties, further tantalizing your throbbing clit. "Go ahead, Darling. I can't wait to show you off."

You sign your name on the dotted line, quickly dismissing what seems to be the final roadblock in your path to pleasure. There's nothing else in your psyche than how badly you need him to fuck you. Your pussy aches with desire—you can't wait any longer. "Please. Please, fuck me," you whimper, begging him to give you what you want.

"Oh, Darling," he purrs. "All in due time."

Fellow leans in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "I wonder how many people will come tonight just to see this pretty little body of yours?" he asks. "How many men and women will stare at you, touching themselves as you writhe in pleasure? I bet you can't wait for them to see how much of a needy little whore you are. You were born to be a star." His voice is soft and seductive as he plays on your desperation.

"Now. Let's get you out of these clothes." He expertly unhooks your bra with a single hand. With a swift yank, it falls to the floor, revealing your perfect tits, hard nipples on full display. "Beautiful. So deliciously plump and round, my flawless doll."

You're still bent over the table as his fingers snake into the elastic waistband of your skimpy skirt and thong. He pulls it taut, ready to tear it right off of you... but he hesitates, remembering its one-of-a-kind value. Squatting slightly, he gently pulls your skirt and panties to the floor, utilizing the opportunity to bask in the aroma and view of your now-exposed pussy. He grabs your thighs where the stockings are and, quite impatient, rolls them down as his fingernails trail lines down the flesh of your legs in the process. He guides your feet out of each leg hole, revealing your full nudity. Seeing your juices glisten makes his eyes light up, mouth curling into a grin. His mouth waters and he inhales deeply, savoring your sweet scent. He can't help but lean for a taste, his tongue gliding against your folds and lapping up your essence. Your knees buckle as his warm, wet tongue explores your deprived cunt. Nothing has ever felt so good. Your entire body trembles and you cry out in pleasure. He keeps his hands firmly planted on your ass, holding you in place as he continues to lap up your pussy. It feels so good, it's almost painful. He pulls away after a moment and you whimper at the loss of contact.

"So, tell me, Love. Are you a virgin?" he asks with a sneaking suspicion. He traces his fingertips down your spine, awaiting your response.

You shudder, the feeling of his fingers on your bare skin is so tantalizing. "Yes," you answer, unable to hold back your excitement.

Fellow's eyes widen, surprised by how easy it was to get you to admit that. He smirks, continuing to caress your back. "Ah, perfect," he hums. "What a privilege it is to deflower you." He reaches for his phone on his desk and utilizes the speech to text feature to say one thing: “We’ve got a virgin.” He clicks the display off and gives you a wink. "The marketing team will start advertising for a very special show tonight. I wonder how many people will come to watch me break in a virgin? I'm sure we'll sell out! An incredibly rare specimen indeed."

His words send a chill down your spine. The thought of thousands of people watching you lose your virginity excites you even further, and you find yourself becoming increasingly aroused. Your whole body is hot—you can't help but squirm as your juices slowly drip down both legs. You shudder, picturing an entire audience getting aroused, their attention rapt on you. Just the thought of how many people will want you... all of those horny people, with their eager bodies and impatient erections at the sight of you losing your innocence. A hot sensation pools deep in your belly and your clit throbs with need. You roll your hips back toward him, wordlessly indicating your desires.

He pockets his phone, delighted that the plan is progressing so flawlessly. "Tell me, my dear, have you ever orgasmed before?" You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, and you shake your head. He grins, leaning in closer, his tail swishing between his legs and up onto your throbbing clit. It tickles so good. "Have you ever touched yourself?" Your body heats up, and a wave of shyness washes over you as you attempt to suppress a groan. He already knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it. He wants you to surrender yourself completely. "What a beautiful thing, modesty…" he muses. "Tell me, Dear. No need to be so shy." Your face is turning a dark crimson, and he's never found something so appealing in all his years.

"No. Not successfully," you answer softly. You've never been able to get yourself off. Your hands would wander as you'd lie in bed, desperate to find some sort of relief, but it never came. You've never had that pleasure before, and you were starting to think you may never experience it.

"Oh, Darling, you poor thing. I'll have to take care of that for you. I know all the tricks.” Hearing the zipper of his pants, you gasp in anticipation. He takes his cock out of his boxers and you feel the flesh of his hardened tip slide over your wet labia. He takes your hand in his and guides it to your clit, teaching you how to circle your fingers around it in the perfect motion.

"Just like that, Love," he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "You're doing so well. Doesn't that feel good?" You moan softly as he continues to guide you, his free hand on his cock, sliding up and down its length, using your never-ending juices as lubrication. He bucks his hips slightly as he starts to jerk himself off, letting out a quiet moan, teasing himself and rubbing his cock head against the sopping wet folds of your untouched pussy—knowing he has to save it if he wants a fruitful show. The way your face contorts and your lips part with desperate pleasure, he suddenly has to fight himself not to lose control and break your hymen right then and there.

Knowing that Fellow can’t help but touch himself to you amplifies the pleasure even further. Your fingers continue to dance over your clit and for the first time, it feels amazing. Every nerve in your body is electrified, your breath coming in short pants. Your hand feels like it's floating through space as he moves you like a puppet, directing your motions the way that he wants you. He rubs himself a bit faster as he watches you writhing, becoming more desperate and vocal than before. His own lust becomes insatiable. He’s sculpting you into the perfect masterpiece, just the way he likes it—his own custom sex toy.

"Just imagine all those people in the audience," he murmurs. His hand quickens on his cock and he groans. His hand over yours speeds up to match his pace, and he adds more pressure to show you exactly how to pleasure yourself. "All of those hungry eyes on you, craving every inch of you…" His hips jerk slightly and he moans, losing himself to his own dirty thoughts. Your clit is throbbing so painfully that tears begin to form at the edges of your eyes. He has never seen anyone become so intoxicated with the simple idea of him before, and you don't even realize how loud and desperate your moans and cries have become. His face flushes every time you scream his name, and your beautiful expression fills him with the greatest satisfaction, an image forever imprinted in his brain. The sight of you, so eager to please him—he knows now that he'll never let you go.

You feel yourself approaching explosion—the very first time—and your muscles tense in response. "Oh, fuck, every single one of them will be touching themselves, getting off to the sight of you, desperate to be where I am right now. And here you are, moaning my name as I prepare you, just aching for me to bring you to your first orgasm. You'll look so beautiful when I pop that sweet little cherry of yours."

He groans and bucks his hips, jerking himself off faster and faster. Your clit throbs, ready to explode. "You want to cum, don't you, darling?" His voice is low and husky, and he pants heavily. "Cum for me, darling, cum for me. I want to hear you scream for me." Your toes curl, knees buckling in ecstasy. He guides your hand even faster over your clit. "That's it, Love, just let go." His voice is the sweet encouragement that pushes you over the edge, almost on command. You feel a strange electricity ripple through your leg muscles, a release that exceeds every single thing you thought you knew about pleasure.

Your first true orgasm rips through your body like a tornado, tearing apart any inhibitions and preconceived notions about reality. Everything around you turns bright white as euphoria sweeps through your body, wave after wave leaving you moaning and shaking uncontrollably in his arms. Your legs feel like jelly, and it becomes impossible to hold yourself up. His fingers leave yours, transferring their tight grip to your hair, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him as he fucks himself furiously to the sight of you. You were like putty in his hand, melting and molding according to his wishes—a perfect, brainwashed, fucked-out little slut.

Fellow lets out a strained grunt as he orgasms, painting your ass with his seed. He can't help but sigh in pleasure as he gazes lovingly at the blank and pliant expression on your face as he drains the rest of himself onto you. He sighs as his last spurts dribble from the tip of his cock, admiring how much he's marked you as his. You're still shaking and whimpering as you come down from your high, your face contorted in pleasure, your eyes glazed over and staring into nothing. You look absolutely fucked out, and he takes a moment to admire your blissful expression before finally releasing you from his grip. He gives you a small push, causing you to fall forward onto your hands. He takes a step back to admire his handiwork—your thighs are soaked with your own cum, and your ass is dripping with his.

"Such a good girl," he praises. "You did such a good job for me. You're going to be the best performer I’ve ever had. It's about time we take you to the stage to get you set up, my dear. You’re better than I could have ever imagined.” You can only gasp, too wrecked from your pleasure to respond in words. Fellow grins with satisfaction, memorizing the sight of his seed glistening all over your back, chuckling to himself as he wipes it off with a tissue. He tosses the tissue into a random corner of his office and then helps you find your footing again.

Gently lifting your chin, his gaze softens, mouth opening to form a gentle smirk. His thumb brushes against your trembling bottom lip, a caring and fond expression overtaking his features.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you begin to question the warmth in his smile and his affectionate gaze. Is your body's chemical response misreading signals, or are you witnessing evidence that Fellow perhaps has a bit more going on than simply taking sexual interest? A new, deeper desire to understand the mysterious man behind the curtain of your own experience begins to bloom in your mind. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as his hand cups your cheek. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on your lips and you return it, savoring the way his soft lips feel against yours. It feels so intimate, like a lover's kiss, and your heart flutters in your chest. You pull away and look into his eyes once more, trying to figure out what he's thinking, but you can't read his expression. His face is completely unreadable, granting you no indication as to whether you're making any progress in decoding him.

He takes off his coat and helps you put it on, wrapping you up to ensure your modesty is protected for your short walk to the stage. He takes your hand and guides you out of his office, your legs still shaking from climax.

You walk together in silence, hand in hand, your head still spinning as you try to process everything that just happened. You can't believe how incredible your first orgasm felt, and you're already craving another.

"What are you thinking about, Darling?"

"I'm thinking about how I’ve never felt that good before," you admit, blushing slightly.

Fellow chuckles. "That's very sweet," he says. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'll be sure to give you many more orgasms in the future." His grip on your hand tightens slightly, and you can't help but feel a sense of longing for him.

You continue walking in silence until you arrive at the stage. Fellow stops in front of the stage door and turns to face you.

"Are you ready, Love?" he asks, his voice gentle. He takes both of your hands in his and brings them to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. His carnelian gaze holds yours, his hot breath dancing across your fingers. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Your heart swells and you feel yourself melting.

You nod enthusiastically and squeeze his hands, hoping he doesn't pick up on your nervous, pounding heartbeat. "I'm ready," you affirm, gazing intently into his beautiful, half-lidded eyes, feeling braver and more confident than you have all day.

He flashes a subtle smile. "Wonderful." He gives you one last peck on the cheek before turning to open the stage door. He places his free hand on your lower back and guides you onto the stage, leading you towards the center, where the lighting crew are busy at work. He introduces you and makes a show of presenting you to the crew—holding out your arm like he would for a debutante entering a ball, a prince presenting his chosen partner to a ballroom dance. The crew whistle and holler as you walk onto the stage. All you can do is stand there with the distinct smile of a hypnotized-yet-willing participant in the world's most eccentric 18+ theater. Their ogling is the furthest thing from your mind, as your attention remains firmly rooted on the charismatic manager in your grasp.

"Sorry, Boys. This one is mine. No one can have her but me." He places his hand on the side of your arm and pulls you close to him, draping an arm over your waist possessively.

As you glance up, your breath catches and your heart skips a beat; your adoring, hungry gaze is returned by his, a mirror of your own emotions shining through in his flaming irises. There's something strange about his stare—there always is. His face betrays some of that vulnerability again, an instance where he's truly letting his guard down, a crack in his meticulous and calculated visage. It’s a warm hint of softness that signals what he said to the crew might ring true outside of these walls as well.

Fellow turns back toward the crew as a new scene is placed before them, and within a split second, he resumes his demeanor of a business-oriented gentleman. "One hour ‘til showtime. Make her shine, People! We want the audience drooling the second she gets on stage!" He holds out his hand, his cane reappearing like magic. "Have fun in makeup!" He winks at you, the flick of his head gesturing you away.

Stylists appear behind you, and you reluctantly release your hold on him. He flashes a reassuring smile as you are guided away, a bewitchingly charming smile settling onto his lips. You head backstage, and he turns to get back to business.

Damn, if you made it all the way down here... wow. Thank you so much for spending this time with me. If you enjoyed this, that means a lot to me because this is pretty much just a self indulgent fic I started writing as soon as Fellow dropped without really knowing too much about him. I haven't begun writing part two, but I have my general ideas of where I want it to go. If you have suggestions for part two, please comment or send me an ask, I'd love to hear your thoughts! ❤️ Erica Malleleothreesome

#Fellow Honest #Fellow Honest Smut #Twisted Wonderland Smut #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader smut #twst smut #twst x reader smut #twst fellow honest x reader smut #twst fellow honest smut #ferro honest #ferro honest smut #twst fellow #twst ferro #fellow honest x reader #ferro honest x reader #twisted wonderland fellow honest #stage in playful land #my writing

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ladyshrike · 2 months

Text

The Four Times You Say His Full Name

Am I any good at writing? Not really. It's all over the place in my opinion, but I had to get this thought out one way or another.

The four times you called him by his full name.

This first time you called him "Kenji" instead of a nickname, was back in LA. You were working a wedding up in Griffith Park, a beautiful little affair under the strawberry moon. It's all the witchy vibes you adore, a little wedding mixed with a baby shower, good vibes, blessings and tides. They'd offered you some food, which you wouldn't turn down as a known foodie, and that was when you got the call.

Ken had been riding home from the party in the hills and crashed his bike. He wasn't too far from Griffith, that had been the good part of taking this job, and he's been taken to Silver lake, a quick drive from the park. The couple is understanding, eventually becoming good friends with her later on, but that's a story for another time. She's racing through the streets, down the hills and to the hospital. They hadn't given you much information, just that he'd crashed and where he was. And when you get there, you ask the charge nurse for him, only to feel his arms throw themselves around your shoulders, a slightly pointed chin resting atop your head. You immediately smell the alcohol, and it's almost instant that a rage fills your chest.

"Babe! Baby! Sweetcakes~"

It takes everything, and you mean everything, not to implode then and there. You look at the nurse in front of you and take small controlled breaths.

"Is he free to go home?"

He was, having been checked over and kept under observation for two hours before they called her. According to her it's just some bad scrapes and bruises, no contusions or anything super bad, he had actually been wearing his helmet at least, just not his jacket. His bike is totaled, helmet cracked, it really is surprising that he didn't have a concussion at the very least, but through even your anger and worry, you're glad he's ok.

You drive him home, and the way there is silent. He'd sensed something was up the way you were being so cold with him, pushing his hand off your thigh, turning your head when he tried to kiss your lips, avoiding eye contact with you. And when you guys get to your shared home, and you help him in, is it the only time since the hospital that you look him in the eyes.

He sees it immediately. That rage that's practically sobering for him. The hurt. Disappointment.

It's not the only time he's ever done this, and he's not particularly tempted to tell you those two words he just knows would just set you off even if it were true.

"Mina, emergency vital check."

The floating AI robot scans him as she stands there for a moment, looking over him herself. The tension so palpable, if she chose to raise a hand at him in her frustration, she could very well slap him with it. But that wasn't her. She was the sweetest thing, practically a Disney princess, so the anger in her eyes is surprising, and new.

"He has two deep road rash injuries, and a large scrape down his side that isn't as bad as the other two. No fractures and no concussion. I suggest monitoring for any latent signs."

"Get him hooked up to a banana bag, then look up flights to Japan."

He shouldn't try to joke, or anything, but the soft scoff leaves his lips before he could stop it.

"Japan? We goin-"

"We, are not going anywhere. I'm going home to see my dad. Maybe we'll talk. Maybe we won't."

His small smile falls, a slight wince given when the IV is put in.

"Is something...is he ok?"

You shoot him a look because you know he's smart enough to understand what you were saying. You didn't want to say it, but you were done. With the empty promises, the lies, the hospital visits. You were done with it.

"Sabine-"

"Kenji, I'm done, ok? I've had it."

And there it is. He thought his parents splitting up was the worst pain, but seeing you stand at the doorway, teary eyed in anger and barely breathing steady, it shatters his heart because he can see it. You are done.

"I only ever asked you for two things. Two. And I am grateful you can at least follow one. I'll give you that, you have never cheated on me and I thank you for that. But if you constantly break this one? Constantly do this shit? How do I know that'll last?"

"H-hey, hold on-"

"No, I am done. I love you. I love your mom. You two are...the only people I consider myself close to here, but I cannot deal with this anymore. I can't deal with thinking one day I'm gonna get a call and have to identify your corpse instead of picking you up from an ER."

"It's just a couple scratches, I'm fine-"

He's done it now. He's said it.

"Forget it."

She grabs her wallet, and just her wallet. It's the only thing in her bag that she's bought herself as her bag had been a gift from him. She heads out and he tries to follow her, not able to get to her before she's speeding out of the driveway. She feels like a hypocrite, because while she isn't drunk, she is speeding like she's a NASCAR driver, and in a residential no less. She doesn't care to look at the time when she arrives at the airport, hoping to find at least one flight outbound to Japan soon. The car can stay in the parking structure for all she cares at this point, he would get a call to pick it up at the end of the month, if she decides not to come back. Her phone vibrates incessantly in her pocket for a bit, even as she's paying for the ticket she's managed to snag so last minute. Her passport is always in her wallet, so she doesn't particularly worry about how she'd get there without it. She turns her phone off, and soon enough, she's on the plane, watching LAX turn into a massive black splotch with dozens of tiny lights speckled across it in almost neat lines, as the plane departs. She's glad for the little privacy her seat offers her in first class. It's a long flight, the seats recline into a bed and everyone has their headphones on, so she isn't particularly worried that they'll hear her already quiet broken sobs.

By the end of the month, your mind is made up. You'd started accepting his calls sometime in the middle of his season. You know you shouldn't have been watching the games, it would only make the hurt worse, but it was better than ignoring him completely. And that wasn't really possible when you get notifications about him on all your social media, all which say he's in a slump and you are nowhere to be seen at his games. Everyday since you'd left, there had been a voicemail. Apologies, checking in messages, more apologies, declarations of love, and to your utmost surprise, a recording of his introduction at an AA meeting. That one particularly stuck with her. Everyday, roughly at 8 pm, a call and a voicemail with his introduction.

Maybe that was why you started taking his calls. Maybe that was why his game was getting better, back to what he usually is at. His averages get better and you, for the most part, find your anger having dissipated. By the end of the month, you're hesitantly standing in his living room as he tries to clean up the bit of clutter he had around. His shirt rides up a little and you see it. The slight scarring from the massive scrape down his side. Your lips quivers and he stops completely, dead in his tracks. He's startled by the sight of those huge wet tears that build in your eyes and his arms are around you instantly, tightly wound to prove he was ok. That he was still there. He was safe.

You cry again that night, held in his arms. He misses the game the next day. He has his thirty day chip to show you after all, and he doesn't want to leave your side to make up for lost time. He swears a promise not to do it ever again. Drink and ride he means. He isn't an alcoholic, and the AA meetings were necessary to get his license back, but he wanted her to see he regretted his decisions wholeheartedly.

The second time you said his full name was at your wedding. A year from the date he proposed to you, rather clichely you'd admit, at your monthly trip to Disneyland. The team had won a game, they were given a PR trip to Disneyland and she was an annual pass holder. She met them there, and during the cavalcade with them, he stepped off as they got to the castle, where she stood watching, and he popped the question, on one knee with a simple little ring she had spotted in a jewelry store. The team, having been in on it, cheering them on when she tearfully said yes.

Now she stands at the alter, in a gorgeous dress that fits her like a glove, his mother as her maid of Honor, and her dad as his best man because let's be honest, he thought of him as a son at this point, the way his mom thought of her as her own daughter in the time they'd all known each other, and the ceremony is relatively small, less than fifty guests, very intimate.

It's during her vows, her promises to him and vice versa that she says it. Beautifully charming smile on those lovely glossy lips of hers.

"I, Sabine Baji, take you, Kenji Sato, as my husband. Through sickness and in health, through the good times and the bad, till death do us part."

It's the sweet and short of her vows, tearfully said as her emotions run rampant. The rest of the night spent energetically celebrating.

The third time is a little more...non PG.

It's off season, he's been training here and there, enjoying some time off in their big house up in the hills. She's spending the weekend babysitting between gigs and she's been...quiet. Maybe it was the fact that she was around them so often. Maybe, it was the fact that her friends just had a little one she was watching currently, that clung to her so jealously when Kenji came around for a cuddle too. Maybe she was ovulating. The exact cause of this scenario was a blur to her really. She just recalled, well, he recalled and told her it was how it went down. Swears by it that she, as the family was driving away with the baby, fast asleep curled up in a hoodie it wouldn't let go or give back, that she looked up at him and said it.

"Kenji." It's the first time in a long time that she says his name, so he worries maybe he did something wrong again without noticing, but the look in your eyes in determined, is heated...pleading. "I want a baby."

The night didn't end for you two there. You both lost count somewhere after three, overstimulated and yet continuing like bunnies in heat. You blame the baby fever, and maybe the wine during lunch, but the venture is fruitful two months later, when four pink lines, two on each stick, and the word 'Pregnant' in bold on the digital test are laid before you two on the bathroom counter.

The same counter he would quickly have you laying against as he spread your thighs open wider, held you closer, got a little rougher with his thrusts, aiming to make the baby in you twins, according to him. Something not fruitful, unfortunately for him, but enjoyable at least.

And that takes us to the fourth and perhaps not final time you ever say his name.

Seven months later, you feel like a ship. The little peanut, you two so kindly nicknamed the baby while looking for a name, kicking around, shifting about, giving you some of the most ravenous cravings you'd ever had. Braxton Hicks, you came to be brutally informed of when waking in the middle of the night in a labor scare, had finally died off.

Or so you had thought.

When the first stab of pain shot through your side, you'd simply grimaced and sighed, shifting on the couch during the somewhat humid autumn day. You had decided to stay the Halloween weekend in, instead of going to a party while you felt like a boat. Kenji immediately notes the discomfort and tries to help.

"You want your little heart ice pack?"

You shake your head, yawning softly because yeah, it hurt, but you were too tired. You just wanted to go to sleep already.

"Ngh...no...just wanna go sleep already...come with me?"

How could he say no? He takes your hand when you ask for help getting up, and you both feel it. The sudden rush of water on your legs, his slippers. Your face is beet red and he's confused for all of two seconds before he's scrambling for the "go" bag. A Dodger duffle bag that the team's wives/significant others had decorated for them. He'd filled it with extra clothes for them, babies first outfits, washed in baby detergent, and a picture of his mom and her dad, both who couldn't be there today. You groan in annoyance because that was your favorite rug now covered in amniotic fluid, and now you would probably stain the carseats because you were not about to try and change your pants in active labor.

(Kenji had that covered, gingerly pulling your panties and pants off and helping you out new ones on, after cleaning you up with a damp towel after all. Kiss to your belly and all.)

You say it, however, sixteen hours into active labor. Minutes before midnight, almost Halloween day, like your baby wanted to share a birthday with you, which you would never mind as long as you get to hold her. It's when a particularly sharp labor pain hits that you yell it, gripping his hand so tightly you swear you hear his hand crack.

It's angry, and pained, and you swear, just after saying his full government name, that you would make him feel how this felt. No amount of epidural helped this pain, no amount of Lamaze Breathing or doulas helped prepare her or take this pain any better. She'd find a way for him to carry and birth the next one even if she'd have to become a mad scientist. She isn't good with pain already and this isn't helping.

"Kenji Sato! You are having the next one, got I-ngh!!!GOT IT?!"

He just about passed out when they announce you're crowning, because for some gods forsaken reason, he decides to look beyond the blue sheet. It's a horror he will never forget, and he swears he won't put you through another round of whatever your anatomy was doing to push yours and his little princess out of you.

And then she's there.

She's in your arms first, he's busy gathering his emotions as they cut the umbilical cord for him, and you need the first few minutes of skin to skin with her before she has to get cleaned up and given her first dose of vaccines. He holds her after, eyes bleary with tears as he does so so gingerly. He doesn't want to hurt her, doesn't want to accidentally harm her tiny little fragile body. She's a perfect amalgamation of you two. His eyes, a grayish blue, but the rest, he will happily and readily proudly admit, is all your looks. Tousled full head of soft pinky fuschia hair, eyebrows to match, rosy cheeks and little pouty lips. He swears, on everything he loves, she smiles when he is told to do skin to skin with her as well. When she curls into his warmth while you are cleaned up by the nurses. And when you two are able to take her home, when you are given the all clear and she passes her car seat test, and you three are finally back in your house, settling her down in her side sleeper by your bed, it's clear that the few times you use his full name can be bad, but most of them?

They're worth it.

#kenji sato #kenji x reader #ken sato #ultraman rising #ultraman #kenji sato x reader #kenji sato smut #technically

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81folklore · 6 months

Text

heaven - OP81 - part 5

pairings: oscar piastri x private!reader (fc: gracie abrams)

summary: australian adventures of yn and oscar

type: social media au (smau)

authors note: IM BACK WRITING MY FAVORITE ANGELS!!! ive been feeling slightly more motivated so i thought id just continue a story instead of creating a new one (at least whilst im in this slump) i do hope you enjoy!!

heaven masterlist masterlist

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 7,191 others

oh australia how ive missed you and your gifts 💫

view comments

user3 whats the best gift australia has given you??

yourusername oscar!!! liked by oscarpiastri

user3 SHUT THE FUCK UP WHATTTT?!?!??

user62 i feel SICK THEYRE SO??

oscarpiastri oh my goddd

oscarpiastri 😍😍

user4 you cannot separate oscar from that emoji

yourusername not even i can😕😕

oscarpiastri you can pry it from my cold dead hands

user81 that dog is so stinking cute

user22 yess but that dress is GORGEOUS

user5 right shes sooooooo pretty liked by oscarpiastri

user88 australia is the one whos lucky!! liked by oscarpiastri

user67 like they are being blessed with the yn ln

yourfriend3 you are oh so lovely liked by oscarpiastri

yourfriend3 i take it back stop your boyf from liking my comments abt you

yourusername he loves me🥰🥰

oscarpiastri i do!! its true!!

oscarpiastri 📍location home

liked by yourusername, lilymhe and 52,281 others

my favorite lady in my favorite place

view comments

user18 SHE IS HIS FAVORITE LADY OH MU GOD😭😭

user17 AND HIS FAVORITE PLACE IS HOME😭

user24 oh my god she is gorgeous liked by oscarpiastri

user84 i will never ever get tired of them

user28 i hope theyre in love forever and ever liked by oscarpiastri

user55 oscar liking this comment☹️☹️

yourusername my babyyyy

yourusername oh how ill always love you liked by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri 🩷🩷

twitter

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 8,729 others

the day you entered my world you changed my entire view on life and myself, you help me find love and happiness in things i never expected and showed me how to appreciate the smallest things in life.

sometimes i wonder if im being selfish, how can i be worthy of all the love and time youve given to me? surely there is someone more deserving, someone who needs everything youve showed me more? i think about what i must have done in a past life to be gifted with you and then i wonder if we are destined.

maybe i dont deserve you in this life, maybe i dont deserve you in a thousand other lifes. but i believe we are meant to be which means for every universe we dont find eachother, we find eachother in a hundred more

im so glad we found each other, i dont know if i deserve you but i promise i will cherish and appreciate you the way i have done for 6 years and the way i will continue to love you for as long as this universe allows and then i will love you even longer in another

six years used to feel like forever but now ill never have enough time, happy anniversary lovely

view comments

oscarpiastri you continue to help my heart keep beating

oscarpiastri i didnt think love was real until i found you

oscarpiastri we will find eachother in every universe i promise

oscarpiastri you are the prettiest and most lovely person i have ever met and you deserve everything and more

yourusername my good looking boyyyy🩵🩵

user29 i have no words i cant comprehend what im reading

user10 i feel so violently ill they are so sweet

user62 my parents everyone!!!

user53 is that an engagement ring?!

user33 wait pause

user5 theres no way right??

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc and 62,379 others

you’ve impacted my life in more ways than you will ever know and im so thankful that i get to love you for all eternity, you have such a beautiful soul and i can’t believe i get to hold it

happy six years and to a lifetime more

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yourusername you are so so incredible

yourusername i dont know how many other ways i can say it but i love you

oscarpiastri i love you too

user66 they are sooooo

user7 oh my gooooood i am a puddle of tears

user56 you just dont get them like i do

user32 anyone else sad we didnt get a long caption like yns was beautiful

yourusername oscar said more than enough in his letter☺️

user43 OH MY GOD HE WROTE HER A LETTER😭😭😭😭

user3 six years.. six damn years and they are still so in love

user48 guys are they engaged or not😭

yourusername not!! we are still young and exploring ourselves and the world and we are still grow into better people. we didnt want to rush when we still have so many things to do but we will when we know we are ready🩷 liked by oscarpiastri

user65 i didnt know it was possible to love two random strangers so much☹️☹️

yourusername added to their story

seen by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 9,372 others

text on story reads: 🩷🩷🩷

oscarpiastri added to their story

seen by yourusername, aussiegrit and 105,482 others

text on story reads: sunshine ☀️☀️

twitter

#f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #f1 social media au #social media au #formula 1 insta au #formula 1 social media au #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #★ private oscar #f1 insta au

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chilschuck · 6 months

Note

I NEED CHILCHUCK+LAIOS WITH A LANA DEL REY CODED READER!!!!!

Recently I've been listening to Lana del Rey's music and it's just.... Ethereal, ethereal and melancholic.

So, I would like reader to have a similar vibe, you know? She looks ethereal, the type of gorgeous that you doubt if she is real or just a hallucination, but also melancholic. Something about her just always looks a little sad and lost in thought.

She's also gentle, like a mother's embrace, she's soft spoken (bonus if she also sings and has a similar voice like Lana)

But if you had listened to Lana's music (which I think you have) she has a ton of slightly suggestive music, so maybe she's also a bit flirty and playfull.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ anon you have no idea what you have done to me. i hadn’t listened to her music in depth but now i am HOOKED. AND THIS IDEA WAS SO FUN TO WRITE FOR???? god bless you…….. i hope hcs are okay! i went a little ham on them, lol. even put lyrics i thought fit them in a way! i hope this is what you were wanting, and thank you so much for your request!!! <3

— HEADCANONS: lana del rey coded reader.

୨୧ i’ve got my eye on you. (say yes to heaven!)

꒰ charas: ꒱ LAIOS & CHILCHUCK.

꒰ wc: ꒱ 852

꒰ rating: ꒱ sfw + fem!reader.

✦ once again, sorry if anything seems ooc. i had too much writing this and blasting her music, LOL. and a special thank you to my love jackie for reading over it for me!!! WAHH

— LAIOS: “i can see my sweet boy swaying.”

✦ The first time he lays eyes on you, he has to ask himself if he’s dreaming. Certainly he must be, with the way the world just seems to stop whenever you’re around. There’s an air of mystery there, and when your eyes flit up to meet his, he’s captivated.

✦ It’s not just your beauty that enraptured him; I like to think he saw a depth in you he hadn’t seen before. Maybe he was drawn to the way you always looked almost… wistful, longing… Sad. But there was a beauty in sadness, wasn’t there? The way you still moved about so captivatingly while seeming so far away in those eyes… It was breath-taking.

✦ Laios definitely thinks you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen. It’s haunting almost, the way your hair frames your face and the silkiness of your voice. The first time you spoke to him, he knew he would beg you to do it again. You’re soft-spoken, a voice that carries so much weight for him. Say the word, and he’s there.

✦ I don’t think anything could’ve prepared him for your playfulness. You leave little ghosting touches down his arms and back when he’s deep in thought, only fueling his speculation that you’re just his imagination. Maybe you even whisper his name, having it bleed from your lips in that way of yours that makes his skin erupt in goosebumps. Press your lips against his ear and hum his name, only to pull away with that grin on your face. Watch as he opens his mouth to say something, anything, cheeks red as he swallows. (I think teasing him would be a lot of fun, especially when he’ll just buckle.)

✦ The first time Laios hears you sing, his head seems to spin. Direct it at him, sing for him, and he might just melt. Maybe you don’t even mean for him to hear you the first time, but now it’s something he longs for.

✦ Aside from the teasing and flirting, you’re gentle. Almost painfully so, your touch too sweet for him to fathom. Look at him with those distant eyes and cup his cheeks in your palms, your sweet boy, and he instantly leans into your embrace. Pull him in, hold him close, maybe even sway just a bit as you hum. I think you’ll really make him feel like he’s dreaming, then.

— CHILCHUCK: “be my once in a lifetime.”

✦ Don’t blame him if you catch him staring. The first time he sees you, Chilchuck falters. Is it possible for someone to be this beautiful? Ethereal seemed to be an understatement, especially when your gaze met his.

✦ We know Chilchuck doesn’t like to let too much show; this man is repressed. Even so, you draw something out of him. You’re deep like an ocean, dark like its depths, strong like the tide. He doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but maybe this is as close as it gets.

✦ He feels like he could drown in you. Your voice, your eyes, your touch. You’re gentle in all the right ways, especially in the way you speak. Chilchuck has heightened senses, and you please every single one of them. When you first decided to talk to him, he couldn’t believe how soft your voice really was. Say his name and he just about can’t take it.

✦ You drive him up the wall when you tease him. You know he loves to hear you speak, and when you let that playfulness bleed into your tone, he’s smitten. Flirt with him and you might just get a red faced half-foot in the palm of your hands. Your embrace is what really makes his head spin. Pull him close to your chest with your addicting touch and he might just never let you go.

✦ Chilchuck longs for genuine affection like this, revels in it. If you give that to him, even just a taste, he comes back for more. It goes without saying that your voice when you sing has him almost gasping for air. How can someone look this gorgeous, sound this breathtaking? Pull him back to reality with you, remind him this isn’t some sort of cruel trick on his mind.

✦ Chilchuck doesn’t like to see your saddened gaze, even if it’s only there in fleeting moments. You’re melancholic, he knows that, and for some reason it just makes him want to dive deeper. Are you hiding things like he is? Maybe there’s an unsaid connection there with that shared knowledge. Chil lets himself go when he’s meeting your gaze, all that emotion he bottles up doesn’t seem to matter when he’s with you.

✦ Going back to your gentle touch, he just about crumbles under you. Imagine how tightly he’s wound, how long he’s craved some sort of connection like he has with you. Chilchuck, when he’s alone with you, lets himself get lost in thought too. But instead of painful memories and the tasks at hand, he drowns in your embrace and wonders how he ever went this long without someone like you.

#⟡ lilia writes! 🌿#WHEE I DID IT!#GOT THIS OUT BEFORE MIDNIGHT!#now time to do schoolwork LOL #delicious in dungeon x reader #dunmeshi x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #laios touden x reader #laios x reader #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck x reader #dividers by cafekitsune

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sunnycanvas · 7 months

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Hello, I love how you write and the most beautiful narrative way. Could you do one of balwin taking care of his pregnant wife?

"Careful" Baldwin IV warned as he helped me get out of bed. My feet had swollen due to pregnancy. I felt embarassed by my own body. Baldwin IV noticing my discomfort kissed my forehead and said "Don't worry, you are beautiful". I couldn't help but doubt his words. "Does he even understand not only I have physical changes but emotional one as well". Ever since Baldwin IV learnt about my pregnancy he has treated me like piece of glass. He refused me to do any physical labour, even going as far as refusing me to leave bed. We had a huge fight about it. Baldwin IV kept on insisting that it's our first child. He was finally blessed by God to be father and Kingdom too will have heir. There was no way he is risking this opportunity. After lots of fight and request from my part Baldwin IV finally agreed however he insisted that I shift to his room and stay with him all time. In case I wish to leave the bed, I need to inform him so that he could escort me.

Baldwin IV carefully guided me to bathroom. As soon as we step in he closed the door and started striping me. I was staring myself in front of giant mirror. I was ashamed when I looked at my body again. I could see strech marks in my torso. My body had become fuller than before. I was in such a deep thought that I missed looked of adoration from my husband. It wasn't until he started started caressing my stomach that I finally noticed. Once I noticed and started staring back at him he smiled and kissed both of my cheeks. "You have made me happiest man alive" "Mon amour, never doubt my love for you" . "Come it's time to give you a bath". Baldwin IV ensured that I sat down for bath safely. He soon began filling my bath tub with warm water. Knowing how much I prefer it. I was still sad about everything. Could it be because of pregnancy? I couldn't help but feel anxious about future. Thoughts like "Will I be good mother?". "Will my husband still love me after my breast has become saggy and my hips and stomach covered in strech marks?"

"Mon amour, look at me" my husband called me in his commanding voice. Once I noticed him. Baldwin IV started stripping. I became shy and attempted to look elsewhere

"No, see it all before you look elsewhere" this time he was gentler while speaking to me. Hesitantly I looked back at him. I saw scars and disfigurement of his body. He soon took his pants off and now I couldn't help but lust after his body. Baldwin IV slowly walked where I was standing and said "See this is how I feel when I look at you" Baldwin IV laughed and said "No matter what, at least you will be better than leper". I was hurt knowing how insecure my husband is when it comes to his own body. Even though he is comfortable now he refuses to show his face preferring to hide it behind the veil instead

"Now you know how I feel" he replied and I grew quite. Baldwin IV went inside the bath tub with me and carefully hugged me from behind making me sit on his lap, squishing my boobs with his arms saying "Your pregnancy has made me want to have sex with you more"

" You look so beautiful while pregnant with my child but unfortunately we can't do that". "It hurts to see you looking at your self with disgust and being anxious about yourself". I couldn't help but cry a bit at his response. Baldwin IV wiped my tears and kissed my cheeks and pecked my lips. Once I was okay he took a mug filled with warm water and poured it over my head. I moaned in bliss and Baldwin IV started kissing my neck. He also washed my hair gently massaging my scalp and washed my body thoroughly with soap. Once we were done he helped me get dressed and took me to bed.

"Where are is all the food which I asked to be brought here" he shouted he angry. "Mon amour, please wait for a moment" he left the room angry. Soon bunch of maids came apologetic with food. I could here my husband mumbling angrily. He soon placed the food on the table and said "Now leave us come back after 30 minutes". Once they are gone Baldwin IV attempted to feed me with his hand. "We talked about this" I said in in anger. Baldwin IV replied back "I can't help it" "Fine feed yourself if you want"

"No, actually never mind". Baldwin IV gave me 'are you serious' look before continuing once we were done. He said "The maids will come back again to take care of you in my absence " "Make sure to-"

"Yes, I remember don't go far away and no physical labour" "Now leave"

"Not before my good luck kiss" he leaned and kissed me before leaving for work. Once I was left alone the maids came it with jeweller. "My, lady" he bowed before continuing "His majesty the king has insisted to choose whatever you like and he will pay" I couldn't help but smile at his pampering . I felt immense joy to have such a caring husband and felt ridiculous to doubt his feelings towards me

#baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven #kingdom of heaven 2005 #baldwin iv imagine #baldwin iv x reader #kingdom of heaven fanfic #kingdom of heaven fanfiction #kingdom of heaven fandom #kingdom of heaven headcanons #king baldwin iv

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madschiavelique · 1 year

Note

hear me out, miguel letting a bunch of ‘i love yous’ while he’s fucking you? especially while he’s close, him just being like ‘iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou’ does something to me…

ANON I'M SCREAMING THIS IS SO SWEET i felt way too poetic and had to write smth like come on

this man just worships you, every curve of your body, every inch of your skin, and every discovered or unexplored meander of your personality

he'll never tire of your smile, your eyes, the way your body welcomes his hands

the mere thought that you love him makes him less miserable, almost to the point where he feels blessed. What has he done in a previous life to deserve you?

He kisses your forehead to thank it for carrying all your ideas He kisses your cheeks and lips to thank them for making you smile He kisses your neck to thank it for making your voice bloom He kisses your shoulders to thank them for being so gracefully illuminated by the sun He kisses your hands to thank them for speaking and expressing when your mouth can't He kisses your chest to thank it for carrying your heart He kisses your soul to thank it for existing

But he needs more than just thanking you. He would offer you pearls of rain from countries where it never does, he would dig the earth until after his death to cover your body in gold and light. What would he be without you than this hour stopped on the watch face, what would he be without you than this stammering.

"I love you," he whispers against your ear as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, his pelvis touching your thighs as your lips let out the most beautiful sounds that music has ever created.

What would he be without you but a sleeping heart? You took him by the hand in this modern hell where the man no longer knows what it is to be two.

"I love you," he murmurs as he kisses your cheek, inhaling the scent of your skin until he's intoxicated and the sensation never leaves his memory.

Those who speak of happiness often have sad eyes. Isn't that a sob of disappointment? He felt like a broken string in the guitarist's fingers and yet he now says that happiness exists elsewhere than in dreams, elsewhere than in the clouds, elsewhere than imagination.

"I love you," he breathes as he kisses your lips and you give him the gift of pleasure, as you make him feel the perfect pairing of sentiment and carnal desire.

He's waiting for the universe to shrink down to your hearts, to be safe from the wicked and the mad, waiting for your moments to drag on for hours and for the thread of time to wrap itself around you.

Prepare some of your time, because for you he has all of his.

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ooffmlsorry · 10 months

Text

Hold Me Closer

Law x reader

2.4k words, slow burn for a tumblr post i guess??

A/N: Law is such a touch-starved disaster in this god bless him. Don't worry...this is my last drunk post. I don't wanna accidentally promote alcoholism on this good Christian hellsite I just need to write my fav blorbo drunk and in love once and then I'm good.

CW: drinking, drunk behavior

"You know, for as smart as Law is you really can manipulate him into just about anything," Nami says. "He's no better than Luffy, as soon as you tell him he can't do something he has to go and try it."

"Huh?" You're drunk, and by the look of the Straw Hat's navigator significantly more so than her. (What are the Straw Hats' livers made out of? Steel?)

You follow your gaze to your captain, Trafalgar Law, and feel a giddy bubble of laughter make its way through you. "I'm just happy to see him cut loose for once," you say. From the looks of it he might actually be tipsy. Law’s cheeks are flushed a little and he’s talking animatedly about something. The shine in his eyes captivate you.

Yeah, you're definitely feeling the effects if you're openly giggling at the sight of him.

Despite your last thought you take another sip of your drink. It stopped tasting sweet and sharp a while ago and is starting to taste more and more like I should be next to him.

"He's so beautiful when he's happy," you mutter.

"What?!" Nami presses her hand flush to her chest and turns to look at you. A mischievous grin passes over her tipsy face, "beautiful, huh?" She pokes your side playfully and giggles. "What's that supposed to mean?”

"Nothing!" You flinch away from her and drain your drink to quench your suddenly dry mouth. "You like seeing Luffy happy! It's the same thing!"

She laughs so loud and so hard she nearly falls out of her chair. "Oh yeah! Sure! But have you ever heard me call Luffy beautiful?"

At that exact moment you watch Luffy snort with laughter and shoot beer out of his nose.

"Point taken.”

“He’s not my type, that’s for sure,” Nami says.

“No, your type is Alabastan princesses,” you tease back.

“Hey!” Her ears pink a little more. “It’s not…” she stammers. “You know what! You’re getting me my next drink just for that!” She pushes her empty mug towards you. “Chop! Chop, Y/N! I’m thirsty!”

You roll your eyes. It’s true all the Straw Hats are bossy in one way or another, no wonder they exhaust Law. You grab her mug and yours and head to the bar for another round.

Your eyes move back to where you last saw Law talking with someone, except he wasn’t there anymore. Where did he go? The room’s crowded with people talking and laughing, yelling and singing. Between the alcohol and another raucous round of Binx’s Sake sung across the banquet, it’s hard to focus. Did he leave already? Disappointment washed over you, but you weren’t surprised. That would be your captain, Trafalgar Law, ever restrained.

You sighed. Hopefully he didn’t go back to the ship to get more work done. You fill up yours and Nami’s cup and start to head back to your seat.

“You’re drinking poison, you know that Y/N-ya?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the hot breath against the shell of your ear. Then, you process what was said to you. Poison? Instinctively you reach for a weapon, and then remember you left it behind.

“What? Law—”

Barely have room to turn around, he’s standing so close to you. The flush in cheeks is darker than you realized and his dark eyes have lost some of their sharpness. A mischievous smirk plays upon his lips. “And you tell me I need to lighten up?” You’re not met with the level of seriousness you normally expect from your captain. “This,” he holds his mug up, only nearly sloshing its contents, “is poison. It’s the ethanol. That’s what slows you down, it’s not all that different from slowly poisoning yourself.” He puts the cup up to his lips and tips it back. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, the muscles of his neck visible to you until they disappear into his collar bones. You wish you could run your fingers down the column of his throat and watch goosebumps rise in your wake. If he would even have anyone.

It must be the drinks. That’s the only reason you can think of to explain why you want to place your hand there and feel his skin. To touch him.

“Neither of us should be drinking this, Y/N-ya,” he says. There’s no sterness in his tone like he would if he was lecturing you, in fact, you realize your captain’s likely joking with you…in his own way.

“Well, sometimes you have to die a little to live a little.” You wink at him.

Law’s lips part a little and his eyes widen. “I–You–” He looks away from you and takes another sip. “That’s your justification? Ridiculous.”

“It sure is!” You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you take a small step closer, deciding to tease him a little. After all, he started it first by sneaking up on you, “what’s yours?”

Law stares at you—speechless.

“You’re something else, you know that?” You don’t have time to hide your laughter except behind your hand. “You don’t need to justify yourself, Law. I’m just happy you’re here!”

Warmth spreads across your captain’s face. It travels up to the tips of his ears which look crimson next to his spotted white hat and down his chest to the heart tattoo that rests there. For a moment you fixate on his skin, the ink swirling across it, the blood pumping underneath, a sign that he’s alive and solid, standing in front of you. Curiosity rears its untameable head, how can you know he’s solid if you’ve never touched him? A missing piece of Law sits in front of you and you want.

“Just don’t drink too much,” he says quickly and side steps to walk around you.

You watch him go, shaking your head with a smile. “I would say, hope he does the same, but it’d be funny if he didn’t.”

“Y/N!!” Nami calls. “Where’s my drink!?”

“Coming!”

Later…

Oh yeah, you’ve done it now. Somewhere between fruitlessly trying to keep up with Nami, drowning your thoughts of Law, and enjoying the party, you’re certain you’ve overdone it…and you’ve only accomplished the latter.

“That’s enough or I’m gonna die,” you stand up and your head swims. You use the chair you were sitting in to stablize yourself.

“Boo!” Shachi says weakly. Although his head is resting on the table, barely awake.

“Yeah, Boo!” Nami repeats.“Who’s gonna watch me drain your crew of all their money?!”

You shrug,“Bepo will.”

The first mate of the Heart Pirates was laid out on the floor asleep.

“Any chance you know where Law is?”

“Last I saw him, he went outside,” Penguin says. He grins and laughs a little before slipping out of his chair with a thud.

Safe to say the Heart Pirates were a crew of light weights.

You stumble toward the door that leads out to the balcony. Outside the night air is cold enough to send a shiver through you, but Penguin didn’t send you out there for nothing. Law is sitting with his legs between the balcony bars, his head leaning on another. In the light of paper lanterns you saw his hand moving in quick small movements. Next to him sat an empty bottle of umeshu.

“Either you’re jacking off out here or you’re working. Only one of those things would be disappointing to me,” you say. In the back of your mind you know you’d never say something like that out loud but alcohol makes your lips loose.

The sound Law makes is less than controlled as he jerks a book shut and sits on it. “NEVER SAY THAT AGAIN!”

You start laughing and fall down next to him unceremoniously, nearly landing flat on your back. “I’m sorry, captain! I couldn’t–I couldn’t help myself!” you howl with laughter. “Please! I didn’t–the joke was just right there!”

You hear Law grumble-slur something, but he’s either too drunk or too tired to get up and leave you because he stays where he is.

“I mean it,” you say, catching your breath. “I am sorry. I just came out here to tell you I think the party’s dying down. You can come inside if you want to. It’s only supposed to get colder tonight.”

“I will when I’m ready,” Law slurs.

“As always,” you sigh heavily. “I’ve learned to stop expecting you to do something just because I think it’s a good idea

That wins you a brief smile from your captain, a rarity, surely brought out of him by the drink alone. “You…you can stay,” he says quietly. “If you’d like to. I don’t care either way. Really, I don’t. ”

Normally, you’d at least begin to believe him, but you know your captain…and he’s already draped half of his long blue coat around you. The scent cologne and antiseptic envelope you.

“You probably should’ve said that before you put your coat around me, Law.”

He tenses for a moment. The brim of his hat hides his eyes. “Forgive me, Y/N-ya I’m being ridiculous,” he mumbles.

So shy!

“I was going to stay anyway,” you say, before he can pull away. “And thank you, I’m probably chillier than I know.”

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while connected only by this moment and Law’s coat draped over both of you. You can feel the warmth radiating from his arm, his side, his thigh, all nearly touching you.

“Did you have a good time?”

“As long as I don’t remember any of this tomorrow, you can tell me I did.”

“Good!” You chirp. “I’ll take it!”

Law picks up the bottle and takes a long pull. “Did you?”

“Yup! It’s the first party I’ve been to in a long time. Actually, I haven’t been to any, but that’s another story from before…well, everything.”

Law snorts, but he doesn’t turn back to leaning his head on the guard bars, instead he stares at you with an expression close to contentment. “Good,” he says.

Your faces stay a few inches from each other. There’s an eyelash resting on his cheek, just out of your reach and before you can think you gently cup your captain’s face and swipe the eyelash away.

In an instant he’s solid. Smooth skin and bone rest just below your fingertips. And somehow, despite the sharp angles of Law’s face all you feel is softness and warmth against your skin. To your surprise he doesn’t move away.

“I’m sorry, you just had an eyelash…” You go to pull your hand back and Law catches your wrist in a grip that’s nearly too tight.

His eyes flutter as he rests his face in your hand. “It feels so nice,” he says. He doesn’t stop you when you slide your fingers up his sideburns into the silky spikes of his hair. You remove his hat and place it beside him.

Contact between you and Law has been minimal, even after you explained your devil fruit only works on inanimate objects. You think he’s been especially cautious around you not to touch you–even if by accident. Touch doesn’t come easy to you, unconsciously building a wall between yourself and others, with Law being the same that wall felt doubly thick. Only to come crashing down over drinks and an errant eyelash. Touching Law plugs a hole dug out of both want and curiosity that you’ve been ignoring.

Law leans into you as if being pulled down by magnetism until he’s almost on top of you. Your thumb settles behind his ear along the nape of his neck and rubs back and forth slowly.

You look down at him, his eyes shut and lips barely parted. If it weren’t for the fingers working up the back of your shirt, you’d think he was asleep. Law’s hand stops at the small of your back, resting there like a warm patch. It feels so utterly right having the captain of the Heart Pirates in your arms, as if holding Law was one of the many things they were made for.

Honesty takes over you. “I think I like being close to you, Law. It feels…warm…good,” you speak softly. If you could be like this all the time you wouldn’t complain. You receive a throaty rumble in response, not unlike a purring animal. “You must be drunk,” you chuckle.

“Extremely.”

You’re not sure if you feel like you’re spinning from all the alcohol or because of this moment with Law. Eventually you begin to hum softly, and sleep begins to take hold of you.

“Y/N-ya,” you hear Law say groggily.

You hum a sound in response to show you’re still awake to listen to him. Law’s arms tighten around you and you understand instantly what he won’t let himself say. Against both your better judgment you drift off to sleep together on the balcony.

The Next Morning…

Law awakens to dawn’s blinding sun and a pounding headache. His mouth feels cottony and his stomach roils in a way that doesn’t immediately threaten vomit but could. The second thing he takes in is that he’s outside; he never made it to his bed or any bed for that matter. And third, you.

You’re still asleep, your chin nearly touching your chest and soft snore escaping you with every exhale. You don’t stir as he pulls himself away from you. The realization that he slept on you rocks through him. The sun’s barely risen and his heart’s already racing.

What did I do?

He rubs at his eyes and scrubs a hand through his hair. Where’s my hat? He quickly finds it and pulls the brim down low enough to block the sun.

Law takes off his jacket and covers you with it, only when he’s wrapped it around your shoulders do you grumble and smack your lips sleepily. “Don’t worry, Law. All’s good, had fun,” you mumble.

He freezes. Out of everything he thought you would say, reassuring him didn’t cross his mind.

Your eyes crack open just enough to look at his stunned face. “Yesterday’s already forgotten.” Loose limbed, you make a sealed lips gesture as if to say your secret's safe with me.

Law stands and grabs his journal. He takes one more glance at you and feels butterflies flutter from his stomach up to his chest. That's the second time he's felt safe around you, he notes. It's information he chooses to ignore.

#i really loved writing this lol #it's the way he tries to flirt with you by sneaking up on you #god he's so clueless I love him #one piece #law x reader #law one piece #trafalgar law #law x y/n

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animeyanderelover · 5 months

Note

Could you write “Close your eyes so it’ll hurt less. for Satoru Gojoı with non-sorcerer reader.

It can be nsfw or punishment scenario <3

thanks in advance!

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, overprotective behavior, manipulation, clinginess, isolation, abduction, paranoia, Satoru breaks s/o's wrist

Words: 3.1 k

Prompt 192

'Beauty is deceiving. It hides who the true monster is.'

You couldn't quite recall when and where you had stumbled upon this phrase, if it had been spoken by someone or if you had read it in a book. Most likely because you had never given this analysis much thought when you had received it for the first time. In hindsight, you should have probably given those two sentences much more thought. Perhaps, but only perhaps, then you wouldn't have fallen so easily prey to a man whose powers and appearance resembled old folklore of ancient and powerful gods.

Satoru indeed, as you had learned the longer you had been with him, thought of himself as someone blessed and special. If anyone else would have said those words to you, you would have thought of them as delusional. Yet when Gojo Satoru said those words, they were no mere gloating fantasies. Instead those words were reality, a reality you had been exposed to ever since you had gotten involved with him.

A reality that frightened you and one that you still couldn't comprehend. Worst of all seemed to be that Satoru refused to expose his world to you. You had only pieces of the puzzle, an unfinished picture of the whole situation that left you with a strange mixture of fear and agitation.

"Even if I were to tell you, you wouldn't be able to do anything. I would only scare you unnecessarily."

Partially he had spoken the truth and you knew that. You wouldn't be able to do anything against whatever it was that his world held in store for you. Yet Satoru was mislead in his assumption that keeping the truth from you would spare you from unnecessary stress. It only amplified it as the fear of not knowing had become a familiar chain that restricted your mind. You had started viewing your surroundings with more caution and wariness, unaware what it was you had to look out for but on edge nevertheless. A feeling of constant alert had overcome you whenever you were conscious, one that had cost you.

No longer felt you able to relax or take joy in the simple things. What you didn't know was constantly on your mind, the nagging fear a festering tumor that spread inside your mind the more time you were forced to spend with him.

His constant presence did not do anything to soothe your growing anxiousness. On the contrary, it fueled those feelings inside of your chest only more. It was unclear to you whether he was oblivious to this fact or if he chose to ignore it and if you had to be truthful, you did not know which was worse.

There was only one thing he often felt the urgent need to remind you of.

That he was the good guy.

---

Your hold on the book tightened, your heart clenching in rapidly growing frustration as you tried your best to blend Satoru's presence out of your mind and focus.

"Don't ignore me, (y/n)!" He whined and his voice, one you used to perceive as a pleasant and delightful sound, made you cringe the same way the sound of nails against a chalkboard would have done. It was borderline agonising and you just wanted it to stop. Your jaw clenched, your head pounding as the anger piled on yet you tried to push everything down as you didn't want to lose your composure and, accompanying your composure, the grasp of control over your own emotions.

When you felt soft lips traveling down from your temple to your neck, you shut the book loudly before you stood abruptly up. Your fists were balled to fists as the pounding in your head seemed to intensify. You felt the urge to scream, to cry or to let your feelings vent out in any other way but you knew that you couldn't do that in front of him. Your feet stomped away from the scene in an attempt to get away from him. When you noticed that he stood up and followed you, you had to bite your tongue in your best attempt to not yell at him.

"Am I not even allowed to go to the bathroom alone?" You growled at him before locking the door to the only room where you could have at least a few minutes for yourself. You scowled at the hurt pout he gave you before his face disappeared from your sight. In the very same moment you locked the door, separating you from Satoru, it felt like someone had unlocked your ability to breathe properly again. The air tasted fresher and your chest felt lighter now that you were away from his smothering presence.

You drew water from the tap and splashed the cold liquid against your face in an attempt to soothe the burning pounding that had tormented you for the entire day already. You took those moments to let the silence and appreciated loneliness sink in, your face still buried in your head as you made no attempt to remove it from them.

As much as you would have wanted to stay like this for a while longer, you knew that you only had so much time before Satoru would grow impatient. You'd rather destroy this moment of peace due to your own will rather than to be thrown out of this tranquility by his own actions.

You turned the tap off and dried your face with the towel before you unlocked the door and turned the knob, expecting to hear his voice immediately calling for you or to even see him standing there.

Instead you heard his hushed voice from the living room and although you couldn't clearly hear all of his words, it sounded like he was talking to someone. For a split second you debated whether or not to use this chance to return to the bathroom or go somewhere else. On the other hand you knew too well that he would demand for you as soon as he was finished with this conversation so instead you opted to just head back to the living room as well.

When you peaked inside through the opened door, you could see that he was having a phone call with someone. Brilliant blue eyes darted up as soon as they saw you and a smile graced his lips for a few moments. You could clearly hear how his voice turned to a mere murmur as he suddenly turned his back on you and you knew instantly that the call must have been related to his job which is why he didn't want you to hear what he was hearing. You felt your curiosity urging you to step closer, so close that you would understand everything no matter how silent he might try to talk.

From previous experiences you knew that if you were to try that though, he would end the call instantly and merely tell the other person on the line to text him all the information before hanging up. So you just stood there and waited, feeling the frustration bubble up inside of you again.

As soon as he had ended the call, he turned around to you. A silly pout was on his face as he walked over to you before a dramatic sigh escaped him.

"Seems like I have to head out for a while. Something just came up."

Obviously he was clearly unhappy, you on the other mind felt like your soul was rejuvenating with the mere thought of having a few hours to yourself. Like everything else though, you also were smart enough to not gloat about those news so you gave him a curtly nod as your only response.

Large hands cradled your face as blue eyes looked at you.

"I'll be back as soon as possible. Just wait for me in the meantime, 'kay?"

You didn't return the kiss when you felt warm lips meeting your own but you also knew that with his grip on your face, you couldn't pull away so you just endured the feeling as your body visibly tensed up. Only when you pulled away did you dare to unclench your jaw again, your lips slightly parted as you looked into those otherwordly eyes.

"Maybe I'll buy you something nice if I find something." He continued to speak as he pressed quick kisses against your face as if quickly tanking some affection before he had to leave.

"Would you like something specific."

You merely shook your head.

"Just surprise me."

Really, you couldn't have cared less.

---

Satoru had returned far too quickly for your own taste. On the other hand he might as well have been gone for weeks and you would still bemourn his absence as too short.

With him he had brought bags full with clothes he had bought for you, in high moods as he had asked you to wear some of them so he could see if they would look as good on you as he had hoped them to be when he had wasted his money on them.

In an attempt to delay this event and prevent him from getting handsy, you had insisted on cutting off all the price tags first as you had assured him that you would like to keep everything that he had brought.

So now here you were, searching for the price tags on every piece of clothing before cutting it off with scissors. It was a lot of work but less because it took much physical exertion and more because of the sheer amount the white-haired man had bought.

Really, you could have enjoyed this task though as it was rather nice to do something.

So why couldn't he have just sat back and remained silent instead of touching you and talking to you? You just wanted some time for yourself.

You knew that he was trying to get you to talk to him by annoying you with questions and touches as he simply longed to hear your voice and to force you to interact with him. This was precisely what you didn't want and so you had to silently chant a mandra to calm your nerves as you hung up all the clothes in the wardrobe. You were surprised that you even had any space left considering that you had so many clothes already.

It was tedious to ignore him but you were normally somehow able to pull through with it. However, on this evening Satoru seemed to have finally enough of your dismissive attitude which was why he exactly spoke something that he knew would get your attention.

"I met your friends whilst I was shopping."

You froze, unable to control your reaction as you heard his words. A strange flood of emotions came over you and you caught yourself swallowing audibly as you tried to maintain some sort of control. You had already failed though and you knew that Satoru would try to use it to his advantage.

You wanted to ask him more but you knew that you couldn't as it was exactly what he wanted you to do so with slightly shaky hands you tried to focus on the task at hand.

Obviously he wouldn't drop the subject that easily though.

You felt his warm breath fawning the side of your face as he leaned closer to you, his eyes taking in the way you had pursed your lips and how you had furrowed your eyebrows as you weren't able to hide your feelings. You were missing your friends and family after all and the bastard knew it.

His own feelings rose up as he saw your face but not because he felt pity for you. Instead he felt his jealousy stirring slowly awake as he saw how affected you appeared by merely hearing him mentioning one of your friends. He envied the feelings you reserved only for them without giving him anything at all.

Why was that?

"Satoru..."

Your voice resembled more of a guttural growl when one of his hands grabbed your shoulders, clearly feeling how tensed your muscles were as you slowly cut off more price tags from pieces of clothing, your mind barely held together as you were trying in a last effort to hold back.

His name was spoken as a warning from your side as he knew that you were at your limit and that only from hearing from him about one of your friends. If he would have been a better man, he would have acknowledged how petty and low he was acting right now. However, Gojo Satoru wasn't a good man as jealousy started getting a hold of him.

"They all seemed to have quite a good time without you. It didn't really look like they were bemourning your disappearance. Perhaps you are the only one in the belief that they are missing you as much as you miss them."

You paused for seconds that seemed to stretch more than they should have before you put the shirt you had held in your hand down. Your head turned around as your own eyes met his blue ones. You didn't say anything at first, there wasn't even a trace of anger on your face as if you couldn't believe his words.

Then your pupils started quivering though and he saw how your gaze suddenly got poisoned with anger you had kept buried deep inside of you for the last few weeks.

You acted before you could even think as the one hand that had previously held the scissors suddenly flew towards him, fully committed to stab at least one of those cured blue eyes so that his gaze could never torment you again.

Only that the scissor never reached his eye. No matter what you tried, you couldn't move your hand any further, the sharp edge of the scissor only lingering close to his blue orbs.

It was that inability that caused you to snap out of your spiraling anger as you realised what you had just tried to do. You instantly withdrew your hand, visible shock on your face from your unexpected outburst. You felt your blood pumping through your veins and felt shame and frustration heating up your entire face as you had just lost your temper completely.

You ran your other hand through your hair as you took some shaky breaths to regain your control. When you finally managed to look up again, an apology lingering on your tongue for your reckless action that could have seriously wounded him, you found the words quickly dying down before they could even leave your mouth.

Normally already quite intense blue eyes were staring through you and your soul with a new weight to them that had you breaking out in cold sweat as you felt a cold sensation going down your spine.

You felt no relief when briefly his eyes darted down to look at your other hand which was still clutching the scissors on your palm, although you quickly dropped the object when you noticed his stare.

You flinched when one of his palms wrapped around your wrist and lifted your hand up. At first his touch was soft but within only a few seconds he tightened his hold until it felt like he was squeezing your bones.

You let out a short hiss when you felt the pain as you started squirming uncomfortably, trying to get him to let go of your wrist.

"You were about to stab me."

You shuddered when you heard the icy tone that seemingly matched his hardened and cold stare that he gave you right now, vastly different from what you were used.

You wanted to defend yourself. He had taunted you first and he had been the one who had brought you into such a situation were you would lose your self-control in the first place as you hadn't consciously intended to potentially hurt him seriously.

Yet he didn't let you utter even a single word as he pulled you closer to his body, his other hand gripping your chin and forcing you to look right into those glowing eyes.

"You wouldn't hurt me, right? You care about me after all, even if you don't want to show it."

There was something in his tone that gave you the chills. It wasn't anger or anything similar to that emotion though. It was a tremble, a barely audible tremble of an emotion akin to denial that made him look dangerously much like he was about to break down in front of you. Whatever you had just done, it seemed to have triggered something dangerous inside of him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I just lost control of myself for a moment."

You swallowed as you uttered those words quickly, your honest tone only slightly tarnished by the pain you felt as he was still squeezing your wrist. You found your own breath stopping as you looked at his face, praying for whatever had possessed him to stop.

"I knew. You wouldn't want to harm me. It's alright, darling. I forgive you."

You felt no relief when he cooed those words at you as he pulled you closer, giving you a kiss on your forehead. Instead you foud your stomach churning as you felt the stress rising inside of you, warning you that something was about to happen.

"Close your eyes so it'll hurt less."

You knew what he had done when you heard the sound yet you didn't instantly feel the pain. Instead your widened eyes stared into his own blue ones with a mixture of shock and betrayal.

You stumbled back in shock, cradling your broken wrist against your chest as the pulsing and cutting pain finally began to settle in. Tears instantly started to gather in your eyes and cascaded down your cheeks and choked sobs started leaving your lips as you slid down to the ground.

"I know. I know. It must hurt quite a bit."

His voice was sweet and soothing as his arms embraced you, one of his hands wiping away your tears as you continued staring at him with unbridled shock and terror as you felt soft touches on your face from the same hand that had just moments ago broken your wrist as if it was a mere twig.

The fear grew and grew until you felt unable to look into his eyes again, turning your eyes elsewhere as your lips started to wobble.

He had never hurt you before. Perhaps that's why you had felt so entitled to ignore him as he had been only ever acted like a clingy and whiny man around you.

Clearly you had been wrong though.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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newtthetranswriter · 4 months

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Could I request Gojo x male reader where the reader is a ballet dancer who is a part of the Zenin clan but ran away when they were in high school and Gojo doesn't see him again till adulthood and Gojo falls in love all over again and reader never stopped being in love and they reconnect

Dancing with Curses

Word Count: 3822

Paring: Satoru Gojo x male Zenin Reader

Warning: talks of Gojo’s past arc, the Zenin clan is trash, Canon typical violence, possibly ooc Gojo, let me know if I missed anything

A/n: Hello again, I truly did enjoy writing all of your requests. They gave me just enough information to feel free with creating the story but still having a base to work off of. Anyway I hope you enjoy and as always remember to hydrate or diedrate.

Y/n Zenin may have been lucky enough to be born with a decent cursed technique but the fact that he had made it clear he was not interested in following the tradition of being a sorcerer, made it so he was looked down upon by the whole clan. For years he tried to fight the system but as the time for high school approached, Y/n was forced to make a choice. He decided that he would follow his family's wishes for just long enough to get enough money to escape the world he grew up in. For him going to Jujutsu High was just a stepping stone to reach his goal, he never expected to add another item to the list of things his family hated him for.

As previously mentioned, Y/n just wanted to save enough money to escape from the world of Jujutsu, he never planned to catch the eyes of Satoru Gojo. Apparently Gojo had been enamored with how graceful Y/n was with his technique and how he was able to mix Jujutsu with ballet seamlessly. Y/n on the other hand had felt Gojo’s eyes on him, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t see the beauty in the user of the six eyes. But Y/n knew that if he let himself fall or grow attached he would be further trapped in this dark world. So Y/n put his emotions in a box and distanced himself.

Finally after almost three years of dealing with the chaos and horrors of the world Y/n left. Having one of his underclassmen die in the line of duty, followed by one of his classmates turning against them, Y/n was done. He couldn’t handle the thought of spending anymore time watching people die for no reason, or seeing people who were once all about protecting turning to murder. So he gathered his belongings and left in the middle of the night. Leaving the world of Jujutsu behind, almost completely.

Being an outcast from a young age Y/n knew the signs of the Zenins pushing kids out of the inner circle. And even if it was still early and there were a few years left for her technique to develop, Y/n had a gut feeling Maki would need someone on her side. So before he completely wrote off the Zenin clan, he wrote Maki a letter. The girl was barely 4 but was able to understand the simple contents of the letter. Y/n had simply explained that he was always there for her if she needed anything and asked her to not share the existence of the letter with anyone. He also left his new phone number, telling her to call if she ever needed anything. After leaving the letter with his young cousin he left.

When it became clear to the Zenin clan as a whole that Y/n had up and ran away, they decided to act like he never existed. Writing his disappearance off as a blessing to not have to deal with him ever again. While most of the Jujutsu world moved on from the sudden loss, Satoru was unable to follow their lead. He spent the better part of five years looking for him. Unfortunately for him, Y/n did not want to be found and managed to hide himself well. Satoru eventually gave up.

Fast forward eleven years, and Y/n had put very little thought into the world he left behind. He took his freedom and did what he wanted. He became a professional dancer, letting his worries wash away. It was a relief to not think about death and curses everyday. But alas all good things come to an end at some point.

After a particularly tiring performance Y/n felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Seeing that the id indicated it was the one person he kept in touch with, he answered. “Hey, Maki what’s up? Is everything ok?” He asked, concerned. Even though Maki was only four when she got the letter from Y/n she respected his wishes and managed to keep it secret all these years. The reason Y/n became concerned was that when Maki got a phone they agreed she would only call if something was seriously wrong, otherwise she would text monthly just to check in.

The calm teen’s response nearly startled the man. “I know you said you would never return to Jujutsu High, but we need all the help we can get.” Maki explained, there was a hint of worry in her voice and Y/n knew that something was seriously wrong if Maki was asking him to come back. Before Y/n could ask for more information, Maki continued. “Some crazy guy declared war on Jujutsu Society and even though we have Gojo on our side everyone seems worried. There has been an influx of Sorcerers on campus and even Gojo seems concerned. I normally wouldn’t ask for you to come back but if Gojo is worried wouldn’t that mean having all hands on deck be the best course of action.”

Y/n took a moment to think about what Maki had told him. If someone declared war on Jujutsu Society then no big deal, curse users are stupid. But if said person had Gojo worried about it then there was only one person who could be leading this fight. Knowing that fact led Y/n to make a choice he never thought he would. “If it’s bad enough for Gojo to be worried, then having as many sorcerers as possible is a good idea. I’ll be there in the morning.” He knew he would likely regret going back to his old life but he knew the reality, it’s almost impossible to leave the Jujutsu world and stay gone.

“Thank you, I know you hate all of this but I’m sure you’ll be able to leave again when everything is done.” With that Y/n said a quick goodbye and hung up the phone. If he was really going to be returning to Jujutsu Society, he knew there was a very slim chance of ever getting out again, that is if he even managed to survive the impending war.

The next day as he promised Maki, he made his way to Tokyo. When he reached the path leading to the hidden highschool, he paused. Debating actually entering the barrier that protected the school and alerting everyone of his presence or just turning around and telling Maki he couldn’t help out. But before he could chicken out and run away again, he felt the presence of familiar cursed energy. Looking up at the stairs that would seal his fate of being part of this fight stood the one person he hoped he could avoid, Satoru Gojo.

It was clear that Gojo had changed since Y/n last saw him, having swapped out his usual dark sunglasses for white badges wrapped around his eyes, his hair was also longer and stood up with makeshift blindfold in place. Seeing the white haired male sent feelings Y/n had long suppressed bubbling to the surface.

It wasn’t any better for the Strongest Sorcerer. He couldn’t believe his eyes, even if he knew that his cursed technique is never wrong, his heart had a hard time believing that the Y/n Zenin was standing in front of him. Gojo had so many questions, like why did he run away, why didn’t he say anything, and most of all why is he back. Snapping out of his thoughts, Gojo moved down the stairs quickly, taking two at a time with ease thanks to his long legs.

“What are you doing here?” It came out harsher than he intended, but with recent events and the bubbling of long forgotten feelings, Gojo couldn’t help it.

Shaking his head to clear the fog, Y/n took in the tall man in front of him. “Well hello to you, Gojo. For the record I’m only here because Maki said that someone declared war and it had even you worried. And knowing you only one person could make you worried about a silly threat. So here I am, isn’t better to have extra hands on bored than facing Geto with fewer people.” Y/n answered, accidentally letting it slip that Maki had been able to contact him all this time. “Now that I’m here, would you mind telling me what exactly Geto is planning.”

Ignoring the request for information about the situation, Gojo focused more on the mention of his student. “Since when has Maki been able to contact you, she was like four when you left. Why would she call you for help?” When Y/n had left after the worry of what happened had passed, Gojo had been angry, and now that anger was showing itself all over again.

“Yes Gojo, Maki was four when I left. But you forget I was also raised in the hell scape that is the Zenin house. I also know what it looks like when those douchebags start making a child an outcast. When I left I gave her my phone number and told her if she needed me she could call. And you would never guess what happened. She saw that her teacher was worried over some psychopath declaring war on the people she cares about and called someone she trusts to ask for help. I’m not here for anyone but her.” Y/n clarified, and it was clear from his tone that he truly meant it. He was only coming back to the world of curses to help his young cousin. Not giving Gojo a chance to respond, Y/n brushed past him heading up the steps into the base of Jujutsu Sorcerers.

Gojo was left stunned by his own stupidity. The only guy he can remember ever truly having feelings for was right in front of him, and instead of expressing his joy of seeing him again he stuck his foot in his mouth. Watching after Y/n as he left, Gojo began thinking of ways to apologize for what just happened and ways to hopefully convince Y/n to stay even after they beat Geto.

On December 24th, Y/n opted to stay at Jujutsu High with Maki and Yuta as a line of defense just in case. Afterall he wasn’t technically a member of Jujutsu Society so it’s not like the Higher ups could actually tell him what to do. He also had a bad feeling about them sending everyone except a couple Assistant supervisors to the front lines. If Geto had asked Yuta to join his cause wouldn’t that mean he had an interest in the boy. So when the veil was lowered over the school, Y/n jumped into action.

He knew he didn’t stand much chance against a special grade like Geto, but he couldn’t just let the lunatic kill a young sorcerer. Y/n’s technique had only earned him the status of Grade 1 back in highschool, but that was eleven years ago and this would be his first fight since he left. He could only hope he still had the strength to hold off the Curse User long enough for help to arrive.

His own fight with Geto didn’t last long before a new contender entered the courtyard where the two adults were exchanging blows. Having also noticed the veil, Maki opted to join the fight. So now it was two on one, the two Zenin outcasts vs. the special grade Suguru Geto. The cousins were able to hold off Geto for about thirty minutes before Geto got the upper hand. The younger of the two had been severely injured, having likely multiple broken bones and severe cuts leaving her half conscious in a pool of her own blood. The older of the two was not much better off. Y/n had sustained a few broken ribs, one of which he wouldn’t be surprised to find out if it was digging into his lung as it was becoming difficult to breathe. But he was still able to stand and so he was still able to fight.

There was a brief moment that allowed Y/n to catch his breath, and that was when Geto paused, announcing a hole was made in the barrier. He seemed confident enough that whoever it was would be too slow and he could beat Y/n and take Yuta before they arrived. Y/n took in a few deep breaths, sensing the cursed energy of two people approaching fast. Seeing that Geto wasn’t reacting to it, Y/n waited until the wall exploded next to the long haired man before striking again.

Unfortunately even with the added help of Panda and Toge, they were still unable to beat him. When they turned their backs on Geto to check on Maki, the curse user took the chance to take out the oldest of the group. Striking Y/n in the back with curse, Geto managed to force the broken rib that was already threatening to puncture one of his lungs right through said lung. The force of the blow knocked what little air Y/n had in his chest out, and now with the loss of function in one of his lungs it was nearly impossible for Y/n to catch his breath. The two first years who were still able to fight tried to fight back but were unsuccessful.

Y/n fought to stay awake and even tried to warn Yuta who had appeared on the scene to run away, but alas with barely any oxygen getting into his body, he could barely make a sound. He was fading in and out of consciousness and couldn’t help but wish for Shoko to be there to heal his wounds. Slowly suffocating was really fucking painfull. The last thing he remembered before blacking out completely was Yuta using Rika to move the four injured sorcerers to safety and applying his own reversed curse technique to them. As the world faded Y/n silently thanked Gojo for not executing the young special grade.

Unlike the other three who woke up soon after Yuta beat Geto, Y/n was still unconscious three days later. While Yuta had been able to heal the majority of the injuries y/n had sustained, it seemed Shoko was needed for some of the more intense ones. When word got to Gojo that Y/n was injured and that even after Shoko had been able to treat his wounds was still asleep, Gojo was worried. He spent as much time as he could spare sitting by his bed in the infirmary.

Gojo spent the time thinking. Debating on how to thank Y/n for risking his life for the young sorcerers and trying to decide if it would be a good time to tell him he loved him. Yeah Gojo had officially decided that he loved Y/n Zenin, it wasn’t just a school crush. Having spent eleven years apart and suddenly seeing him again reminded him of everything he loved about Y/n. Even though he admitted to himself that he loved him, he couldn’t help but think that maybe telling him would be a curse to the man who clearly just wanted to escape the world of Jujutsu.

Caught up in his own reminiscing, he failed to notice that Y/n had started to wake up. He only noticed when he heard the quiet groan from next to him. Looking over he could see Y/n squinting his eyes at the light from the open window, and trying to take in his surroundings while still laying flat on the bed. Gojo quickly stood up, closing the blinds to darken the room, and then moved to help Y/n sit up. “Here let me help you sit up.” He said, causing Y/n to look at him bewildered. “I know I was rude the last time we talked but I was worried when they said you still didn’t wake up after both Yuta and Shoko used rct on you.” Gojo explained quickly.

Taking a moment to process the words said to him, Y/n looked around the room. Seeing a glass of water on the bed side table, he quickly took a drink before speaking. “How long have I been asleep? And what happened to the kids, is everyone okay?” He wasn’t that worried about himself, his main concern was whether or not the young sorcerers had made it out of the battle alive.

“Everyone is fine. Well, everyone on our side, that is, the kids are all okay. They’re taking a few days to relax before getting back to training. As for how long you were asleep for, well it's been about three days.” Gojo informed him. “And before you ask, Geto won’t be a problem anymore.” His tone of voice shifted from glad to something lingering with sadness.

Picking up on the change of tone Y/n understood what he was implying. “I’m sorry for your loss, I know you were really close before everything. But it’s great to hear that the kids are okay.” He said truthfully. Taking a moment to think of what to say next, one thing popped into his mind and he couldn’t shake it. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you have some important mission that only the Strongest can deal with?” Y/n asked, trying to switch the subject.

Having spent three days thinking over and planning for how to speak his mind didn’t prepare him for what he was going to say. “Um, I just wanted to express my thanks for you risking your life to protect the first years. If you hadn’t decided to show up or stay behind while we all went to the front line, who knows what would have happened to those four. I mean sure Panda probably would have been ok, but the others might not have been so lucky.” Gojo thanked him.

Y/n nodded along, but that didn’t fully answer his question. Gojo was there when he woke up, if he just wanted to say thank you then he could have done it after someone else told him Y/n was awake. “I think they would have been just fine. Maki is a strong fighter and Toge has a great understanding of his technique. And Yuta has a surprisingly great understanding of cursed energy for someone who just learned about curses a few months ago. But the strength of your students aside, Why are you here? And don’t say it’s just to say thank you. You were here when I woke up, if you just wanted to thank me then you could have gone about your day and then thanked me when someone told you I was awake.” He confronted the white haired male.

Gojo scratched the back of his head trying to decide if he should say he just happened to stop by to check on him right before he woke, or if he should tell Y/n the truth. Realizing he had been quiet for too long and that if he did lie Shoko would probably rat him out either way, he came to the conclusion that honesty was the best policy. “Well, I’ve kinda been here the whole time. Like I said before I was really worried when Shoko told me you hadn’t woken up after being treated. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He explained. Watching as Y/n’s face shifted from confusion to shock, Gojo couldn’t stop himself from talking more. “And I know this is probably a terrible time to bring this up, especially with how I reacted when you showed up the other day. But I really care about you Y/n. When you left back in highschool, I thought something terrible happened to you and I searched for you for years. I eventually figured that if you went through the struggle of leaving with out a trace there was probably a reason and so I stopped looking. But the worry turned to hurt and anger and I guess seeing you suddenly and hearing that you only came back for Maki’s sake, made that anger bubble up again. I understand you left for a reason and you probably want to leave as soon as possible after all this life is hell for anyone. But I do want you to know that you mean a lot to me.” This was the first time Y/n had seen or heard of Gojo letting his emotions out in such a clear way. Gojo was always calm and only really expressed deep emotions when fighting or teaching, so having him say all of that really shocked Y/n.

Y/n took a few moments to process everything Gojo said, before making the second life changing decision of the month. “While I left because this life is taxing and full of hardship, I don’t know if I can abandon it again. I wouldn’t mind sticking around and helping teach the next generation of sorcerers.” Y/n explained. “This isn’t a permanent situation though and I will have some requirements that need to be accepted before I commit to it. After all, I can't leave the ones I care about to fight alone if I’m able to lend a helping hand.” he finished making his intentions to at least stick around for a short while clear.

Even though Gojo was happy to hear that Y/n was going to stick around, he was confused by the wording of the last sentence. “Wait you said ‘the ones’ you care about, I thought you came back for Maki.” He couldn’t help but ask.

Y/n just laughed before responding. “You’re right I did come back for Maki. But there are more people here that I care about than just her. Now I may have just woken up from a three day nap, but I’m exhausted so if you don’t mind I’m going back to sleep.” With that Y/n layed back down rolling to face away from the tall sorcerer.

“Who else do you care about here? I’m confused.” Gojo really wanted answers.

Y/n responded even though he was half asleep. “That’s for me to know and for you to figure out Satoru.” And with that Gojo was left as the only one awake in the room.

He sat in silence processing what he had been told. And when he registered that y/n had not called him Gojo but used his first name for the first time, he couldn’t hide his smile. Deciding to let Y/n rest in peace he left to inform everyone about Y/n’s decision to consider staying at Jujutsu high for a while.

#x reader #jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x male reader #jjk x male reader #x male reader #newt writes #Newt's 2024 pride event

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year

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Hey🤍 may I please request a fluff/romantic or Bi Han. I know a lot of people don’t think he is capable of being romantic but a girl needs some fluff for Bi Han please. Maybe something were he is sweet and caring only towards reader and everyone else he is normal Bi Han. Love your writing thank you🤍

This got shoddy at the end of the drab. 🦦

You were lost within your own head for while when Bi-Han had appeared at your side, gingerly taking your hand within his own, drawing a gasp from your lips as you felt his cold fingers intertwine with yours. ‘Bi-Han. You’re here.’ You breathed out, smiling instantaneously upon being greeted with the beautiful dark eyes of the man you had happily promised your heart to. Your grasped his hand tighter, almost as though you were checking if he was actually with you, rather then some illusion you’ve coincidentally conjured up.

‘Of course I’m here, little bird.’ Bi-Han told you whilst pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, letting them linger there for a while before pulling away to gently rest his forehead against your own. His eyes locked on yours, as though he were fearful to look away in the instance that you wouldn’t be there when he looked back. ‘For I could never be content as to keep you waiting for longer then needed.’ He adds as he took this moment to ingrain you eternally within his mind, so that he may never forget who he was fighting for, who he was carving a better future for and who he would vigorously defend till his last breath escaped from him.

Gods did Bi-Han hate being separated from you for long periods of time, truly believing that one day Kuai Liang and Tomas would try to enact revenge for his supposed betrayal, by taking away the one person who gave him true purpose in this life; you. However he couldn’t completely disregard his duties as Grandmaster, for it would be sacrilege. Bi-Han was forever grateful that you never held that against him, and instead fully understand that he couldn’t fully commit to being your lover when there was so much work yet to be done.

‘If it was for you?’ You inquired. ‘I’d wait for as long as I must to see my beloved home safe and sound. So you needn’t worry in keeping me waiting.’ You finished as you then softly pecked his plush lips, cooing softly once pulling away from him, enjoying how Bi-Han fruitlessly attempted in following after your lips. For a man as cold as ice he was quite warm and gentle, but you knew he was only like this for you and you often times felt spoilt by being blessed to see this side of him; The side of him that would constantly hold you face in between his hands when checking you for injuries, his thumbs stroking the skin of your cheeks with such gentleness, as though he thought you were going to break. You even saw Bi-Han during his most stubborn and his most angriest of moments and yet still you called him the most breathtaking man you’ve ever met because to you that was the honest truth.

‘I just don’t want to wish you being bored of me when I come home.’ Bi-Han admitted softly. ‘You deserve a man who is willing to be at your beck and call, to be with you from the early hours of morning, to the later hours of night. You shouldn’t have to settle for less because you feel as though that’s all there is going for you, and instead you should strive for more for you deserve more, way more then any man could possibly give.’ Bi-Han truly meant what he said, he truly believed that you deserved better, never to tolerate less, for he felt like he wasn’t giving you all that he possibly could and it pained him greatly because you’ve him so much throughout the duration of your relationship.

Bi-Han only felt as it was only reasonable to give you an out shoulder you feel as though you weren’t being valued enough, as he always tended to put you and your well-being first and foremost in just about everything. But you saw what he was doing almost instantly and you weren’t about to allow Bi-Han to make a offer a solution that’ll only end up hurting the both of you because despite his tiering duties as Grandmaster, he was a dedicated, loyal and caring lover. You couldn’t have to ask for a better man and never would for Bi-Han was it for you, he was the one.

‘Bi-Han.’ You murmured, taking your free hand to hold his cheek, stroking it reassuringly as you watched him visibly relax within your hold, moving his head to kiss your inner wrist. ‘To be bored of you would be like to be bored of living for while you are a very busy man, you are the most attentive, sweet, caring man I have ever met.’ You pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose before brushing your nose against his, breathing him in as deep as you could. ‘Not once have you ever made me feel less important or less valued. Never. You made me feel worshiped, you made me feel loved, you always found room for me within your busy schedule, and I could never find a appropriate way to express my gratitude to you but I hope to everyday.’ You concluded, hoping that you had gotten your point across that you weren’t going anywhere without him.

‘You don’t need to express anything to me, my beloved,’ Bi-Han reassured you, kissing your inner wrist once more. ‘For the sole fact that you still being here with me despite all my flaws is the biggest gesture I could have ever received and I’m eternally thankful that you haven’t yet given up on me. Do it should be me expressing my gratitude, not you.’ Bi-Han finishes. ‘There’s no need for that.’ You assured him. ‘You’ve done enough and you’ve just gotten back from a long mission. You must be exhausted and in need of rest.’ You then began to pull Bi-Han towards your shared bed by his arm.

Bi-Han wasn’t one to complain, as it meant he got to make up for lost time by laying in your arms and leeching off of your warmth whilst putting his aching body to rest, something his soul had yearned to do the moment he return to the Lin Kuei. ‘That sounds perfect, little bird. That sounds perfect.’

#mk1 #mk imagine #mk x reader #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat imagines #mortal kombat x y/n #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #mortal kombat 1 x reader #bi han imagine #bi han x you #bi han x y/n #bi han x reader #bi han imagines #sub zero x reader

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somewhereincairparavel · 5 months

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How would Jason Grace spoil you? boyfriend hcs list

author's note: ik i have an angsty jason grace prompt in my asks and i swear im working on it! But this idea just popped up on my mind and I've been thinking about it all night yesterday omgg. Let me know if you guys want a Leo/Percy/Frank version of this, I mostly write for Jason since he's my bbg but I might actually do the others this time since the idea is so cute!

I'll start off by saying, Jason is a selfcare supporter bf.

Okay so yk how the Romans in CJ have such high standards? They literally exhibit royal/regal energy, and are super fans of luxury stuff.

Jason despite being influenced by greeks would always be a roman. Whether he likes it or not, there will always be roman blood in him. So he makes these cute/simple ideas for dates/gifts but his execution is just pure sophistication. He's SO simple yet so fancy, and Ik they're contradictions but I promise I'll explain.

like this boy would make sure to run you a nice warm roman bath after you come back from a dangerous/tiresome quest to ease your muscles. Cute and simple right? Wrong. This man would buy all sorts of expensive bath perfumes, bath bombs, fragranted petals, etc to make it extra special for you.

See so this is what I mean when I say his ideas are cute, but executed in a very fancy way.

He LOVES spoiling you with self care products, like sheet masks, lotion, cleansers, hair masks, etc. like he simply does NOT care about the money, as long as his girl is taking care of herself?? That's all that matters tbh

This is mostly because Jason, as a kid soldier, never had any time for himself, the closest thing he's ever done to "selfcare" is probably take long baths + trim his hair lol

jason was blessed with his mother's ethereal actress beauty okay. So selfcare or no self care would have zero effect on him physically bc bro would still look majestic.

ANYWAYS he feels like his inner child just kinda heals when he sees you prioritising yourself and he admires it sm :((

would be ecstatic if you rope him into self care. He would be sceptical at first but then as you're applying a face mask on him he'd be like "wait this is actually so relaxing what" and you love the way his face muscles soften at that. Like he really deserves a break and some relaxation, you'd often trick him into using your skincare products intentionally bc he deserves self care.

once he felt so soothed with the lemon facemask he was wearing that he fell asleep on your shoulder and was all zzz 🥺

and would make sure to restock all your products if they run out.

he feels that the self-care has more of a mental and emotional effect on him rather than physical

Which is what matters to him

honestly?? He supports you if you want to wear makeup. Like he'd think you look gorgeous either way but if you like wearing lipgloss? So be it. You get any lipgloss you want he's paying. He just LOVES that you love yourself too :( and would do anything to make you feel comfortable.

also

Food.

This man loves investing on food. Again, it's bc he never even had the time to properly eat as a legionnaire :(

So he'd love to take you out to places and just munch on tasty food and talk. New Rome has bomb food okay. Bro just never got to eat them.

Lmao he's like everyone's grandma when it comes to food. "Have you eaten? You HAVE to eat!! I'll get you food! Go back to your room!"

would spoonfeed you soup if you're sick bc nuh uh you ain't going without eating hun 😤

hes the worried anxious mother hen bf okay fight me.

Food + selfcare = Jason Grace's love language

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aphroditelovesu · 1 year

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Yandere Criston Cole w/Targaryen!Reader Headcanons (Romantic)

❝ 🐉 — lady l: I dreamed about this for some reason and had to write it down. It probably doesn't make sense, but I hope you like it! Now I want to write a oneshot of the scene of them sleeping together T-T. Good reading and sorry for any mistakes! :)

❝tw: Criston is the sworn shield of the Reader, mention of parental neglect, jealousy, obsessive, possessive and delusional behavior, murder, implied conspiracy, slight nsfw and kidnap.

❝🐉 pairing: yandere!criston cole x female!reader.

Criston doesn't remember when he fell in love with you, he just knew that since the first meeting he longed for you in a way he had never longed for anyone. Cole has become a ghost of what he used to be before you met him. He doesn't remember what it was like and he doesn't care. All he wants is you. His sweet, innocent princess.

All he knew was that you were everything he ever wanted in life. Having you as his wife, seeing you pregnant with his babies, who would have your silver hair and his eyes, or maybe the opposite. He wanted to grow old by your side. You were everything he wanted.

You are so perfect. So perfect for him, his beautiful silver princess. He wants nothing more than to protect you, to keep you in a safe place where only he can watch you. Where only he can adore your silver hair and purple eyes. Where only he can long for you. Where you would depend on him forever.

He knows he's sick, that he shouldn't have such thoughts for the person he's supposed to protect, but he can't help it. Criston cannot fight the feelings that consume him from the inside out. He wants you, he wants you to look at him the same way he looks at you, for you to love him the same way he loves you so much.

Criston can't hold back the overwhelming jealousy he feels when he sees another man by your side. You were his, not theirs. His to love and protect. His jealousy was something he had absolutely no control over, but was it really his fault? That's a good thing, isn't it? His jealousy shows how much he loves you and how much he cares about you and values you like no one else does. He hated his family, his father and his sister, they didn't pay enough attention to you and it infuriated him. You were perfect, a perfect princess, a perfect Queen, how can they be so blind?

But everything was fine. It was a good thing they didn't value you, because that meant he would. That he would be the only one to do it. And the gods be blessed for it, for it was your father's constant neglect that brought you into his arms. And he would never let you leave.

For one night, during Rhaenyra and Laenor's wedding, you felt alone and abandoned. Everyone was paying attention to the bride and groom, as they should be, and perhaps you had drunk too much wine. It didn't matter for it was the night you wrapped yourself in the protective embrace of your sworn shield. Criston, as always, accompanied you to your room and he would be guarding the door, but you invited him in. Something you had never done. In disbelief, Cole entered and closed the door behind him. You looked at each other and Criston saw the anguish, the pain in your eyes and, without thinking twice, he approached your fragile figure and wrapped you in a bear hug. He whispered a few gentle words into your ear, and you shivered. Before he knew it, yorus lips were on his.

The kiss was passionate and full of lust on both sides. Criston's hands moved up from your waist to your face, deepening the kiss even more. He had tasted your sweet lips and was already hooked. He helped you remove your dress and his armor, he almost came when he saw your body. So perfect and so untouched. He worshiped your body with his fingers and his mouth, circling your nipple with his tongue and making you wet by touching your sex. He knelt in front of you and used all his skills to make you tremble. He didn't stop until you came on his tongue and he enjoyed your juices.

Criston laid you down on your bed and kissed your neck, your breasts and your mouth with love. His hand touching your sensitive pussy and opening you with his fingers, gently penetrating your tight insides. He wanted you to feel nothing but pleasure, to know how much you were loved by him. And he would do just that. Once you were ready for him, Criston positioned himself between your legs and entered you slowly and gently, making sure you got used to his length. When he was buried inside your heat, Cole made love to you for the first time. He wanted to make you see the stars and that's what he did.

He was over the moon. Sometimes he feared it was all a dream, but it hadn't been. He had tasted you, taken your virginity and didn't feel an ounce of regret. You were his completely. Criston became even more possessive of you after that night, but he justified it by saying it was because he loved you. Even after he mercilessly killed a knight during a joust after he made a move on you, he continued to say it was because he loved you. And you loved him back, didn't you?

Criston desperately wanted to marry you. Taking you as his wife, but he was considered of low birth and was a royal guard. He could never marry you, not while you were still Princess of the Seven Kingdoms. Your title kept him away from you and he hated it. He hated all those suitors who thought they could steal you from him. Criston wanted nothing more than to beat them to death. He tried to convince you to run away with him, to go to Essos where you could become his wife, where your titles wouldn't matter.

But you said no. Being rejected, having his marriage proposal so brutally rejected hurt him like nothing before had. You were his, what right did you have to reject him? He was hurt and angry, but he didn't hate you. He could never hate you. Criston needed to make you see that he was the only one for you, that he was your future. He didn't want to scare you, he loved you too much to hurt you, but you needed to understand the truth, understand your true future. Your future was with him.

One night, you were sleeping soundly in your bed and he entered your room. He looked at an empty wine jug and smiled. You had taken it all, you wouldn't wake up for a few hours. Criston kissed your forehead affectionately and whispered how much he loved you in his sleep, he picked you up and escaped the castle in disguise, with you in his arms dressed like a servant and your hair tied up and hidden. When you opened your eyes, you were on a ship. Criston beside you, smiling like a fool in love, seeing your despair, he just assured you that everything would be fine.

There was no escaping him. You were his and Criston would do anything to keep you with him. His sweet, innocent princess. So perfect for him. He couldn’t wait to marry you and fill you with babies.

#a song of ice and fire #house of the dragon #yandere house of the dragon #yandere hotd #asoiaf #yandere a song of ice and fire #yandere asoiaf #yandere criston cole #yandere criston cole x reader #yandere criston cole headcanons #criston cole x reader #yandere headcanons #romantic yandere #targaryen!reader #headcanons #hotd

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comfortless · 8 months

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hi angel! i have to tell you that ‘All That You Don’t Want’ was incredible- such a lovely, sweet tale! i keep revisiting it! would you consider writing a second part? or even a role reversal?

Roach Head

lich! König x fem necromancer! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. abduction, injury, mentions of insects (reader is the world’s worst necromancer), forced proximity, pining, violence/regicide, major character death, questionable morality, fluff, smut, a lil angst.

notes: i am so sorry you have had to wait so long, anon. ): though… i doubt that i will ever write a continuation of ATYDW, take this sickly sweet… (almost) role reversal, instead!

wc: 6.7k.

It’s an odd thing that, after finally having the blindfold removed, the first thing you notice are the cobblestones beneath your bleeding palms. Not a single one is in disarray; not cracked or crumbling from being used as any other common footpath. No, each stone is in it’s place, lain complete with not a single splintering crack or a sharpness to it from being broken. All pristine and smooth beneath your stinging scrapes.

Just like the cobbles, the air feels untouched here. There’s no stink of manure or spoiled food from the cramped streets of the inner kingdom. There are no roars of fighting men nor the baying of beasts, a lack of giggling women batting their eyelashes to lure those with jingling pouches of coins into brothels. You can’t even detect a breeze. Twisting onto your side, your eyes catch on the extending limbs of sturdy trees, and oddly… not a single leaf flutters or moves. The air is still.

There is only the absence of everything.

You should think it a blessing after your abduction, after being thrust into the back of a dusty carriage drawn by two massive horses.

You could almost swear you had seen the devil in their dark eyes, hellfire deep in those dark pits and you had known assuredly they would be chauffeuring you straight into the darkest circle of Hell. That was, until a thick, rigid cloth was tied around your head, forcing you into complete darkness. Your assailants had done well to bind you and leave your aching body only capable of wracking with sobs against the hard wood at the bottom. Every jolt of the wagon had caused you to flinch, to scramble as best you could, resulting in an array of bruises and your still bleeding hands from fighting at the ropes.

There had never even been a chance to fight back; you never even saw them. Even now as you raise your throbbing head to glance about, there’s no sign of the men that have left you here, in this silent place. Your heart almost seizes in your chest when you realize you can no longer even hear the cantering and whinnying of those dark, stoic horses.

You know that nothing good comes from silence.

It’s one of the first things that you came to learn as a fledgling witch. Quiet rarely ever bodes well. The prey animals in the wood all scurry to hide amongst fallen leaves and well-packed nests the very moment that a predator draws near, and you, still green with your admittedly lackluster talent in reanimating were little more than a fawn in the eyes of any beast.

A groan leaves your parted lips as you force yourself to your knees, ignoring the incessant sting of bruises and how your vision blots from even the barest of exertion. Your binds must have been cut free when you were abandoned here, you realize, as you twist around to crawl.

That’s when you see it— the glory of what lies before you.

Rather than being dumped into some desolate street for the vultures to find and pick apart like any common carrion, the men with their frightening steeds had left you at the steps leading up to a beautiful castle of sorts. The stone bricks and marbled towers above you, spirals of darkened blue shingles descended into gilded turrets, the rampart casting a shadow over all that settles beneath. There’s a flag there, too, positioned just outside of the wooden door leading into the heart of it all. The rich, blue fabric is torn in places, the tassels frayed, bare white thread visible near the paling center making the crest practically invisible.

Something draws you to it, that singular rotting thing in this bright, sterile void. Your feet move quicker than your thoughts as you pad up toward the flag, eyelids squinting as your palm dances over the canvas. The strangest thing happens as you finally make out what remains of a wolf’s head amongst the rips and splintering threads— the wooden door begins to move. It’s not one of those fancy, well crafted ones with those mechanisms you couldn’t fathom in the King’s keep, this one has to be pulled open from the inside.

You watch, lips pursed as the door continues to slowly creek open until finally, you can make out the small courtyard beyond it. A fountain, long since dried up sits at its center, and even with what you imagine must be little care in such a desolate place, the plants are all in bloom; petals of vivid blues and gentle purples fill your vision.

Amongst them, stands a shadow of the purest black, from the opaque veil shrouding his head to the soles of his boots. The cloak he wears is heavy, finely stitched with that very same blue crest embroidered into its chest, the stitching in equal disarray as the flag adorning the stone wall.

You’ve seen specters before. They haunt the kingdom in every nook, crawling over the tops of buildings, invading your dreams with threats of what will come to you if you don’t reanimate something, give them any body to inhabit and puppet so that they might just have a taste of the pleasures of being human once more. Greedy, malevolent things that make you feel ill from a mere glimpse.

This one is entirely an unknown.

He does not crawl from your gaze with the gait of a wary spider, he stands rigid, daring even as those eyes like sapphire lock onto your form. Not a word is uttered between the two of you, yet you feel a pull, one that curls at the bones tucked into the flesh of your legs, pushing and pulling you past the threshold as though an unseen dog were nipping at your heels. You don’t fight it. Your bare feet cross over smooth stone and your stare remains wistful on the figure until he simply strolls away.

That’s it. That’s all it takes before you’re snapped out of your trance and the wooden door swings heavy and violent behind you, closing and locking without a hand to guide it. Then it’s back to the nothingness, the silence.

You should be very, very afraid. In a panic, even as your hands flatten over the wood and you realize that there are no handles from inside at all. You are entirely trapped here, short of finding a way to carve through it or climb up the rampart and risk snapping every limb on your descent. Thing is— you are not afraid, at least not enough to do anything so rash.

A calm settles here, electric and tickling as it feathers unseen through the cool air.

You stay in that courtyard for a long time, admiring every flower and shrub, some you recognize and others you do not. The empty fountain is not empty at all; you find that the marble ring is filled to the brim with riches— gold coins, shimmering stones, all twinkling beneath the yellow glow of the sun overhead.

Inside of the castle is more or less the same, each corridor bathed in the glow of soft candlelight, highlighting paintings in gilded frames that must have taken months to complete, treasures you have only ever heard of seated on polished wood and fine metals. Like walking through a dream. Though your hands itch to pocket something, anything to take back with you when you find the will to escape, to free yourself from the reality of your little shack at the corner of the market that you share with a dozen other witchlings, you don’t touch anything at all.

Following a branch to your right, vast and equally laden with treasures, eyes darting from one shiny thing to the next until the tightly woven, ornate rugs beneath the soles of your feet wind to an end and you instead find your footing on smooth stone tiles.

You find yourself in the throne room, where the specter sits, lofty yet misplaced upon the soft, rolling velvet. That pull, like a lead drawn too tight, pivots you forward, one foot before the other until you’re kneeling at his feet. The figure remains still, watching you with that somber, unrelenting stare even as you reach up to take his gloved hand into your own, kissing along each knuckle until the hand coated in blackened leather moves to cup your face.

This is no king, you know it in your very bones. The dark veil stained by teardrops tells you everything, of a life trodden by deceit and pain untold.

“I know what you are, hündchen.”

The voice startles you, a rasp, alive only in the way that fire lives, crackling and swaying with each lilt. You must have flinched back, the spell weaved around you broken with all of the subtlety of a lightening strike, your elbows dig almost painfully into the rough tiles below, eyes locked to the veil.

Your own voice doesn’t come for a time. When it does, it comes tight; meek and quivering, almost absent entirely as though your own body refuses to bring a ripple to the quiet that has engulfed you.

“Why have you brought me here?”

The feeling that curls up in the hollow spaces within your chest when this enigma pulls you to your feet with a sudden curl of his hand over your wrist feels familiar. It’s not unlike how you felt when accidentally resurrecting that old mantis found dried beneath your bed. It had attempted to chew through your hand, but being so small it hardly seemed a threat, just offensively waving it’s front legs at you until you scooped the critter up and locked it up tight in an old trunk. Some strange tide of wonder, and it takes a moment for you to push it down enough to realize that… the specter is still stood before you, his grip still tight, not saying a word.

Why it brings a swell of warmth to your face should have you questioning your taste in men rather than what he may or may not have done.

“Sorry, I just—“

“You are hurt, hündchen.” He interrupts, turning your wrist over to inspect the flecks of dried blood littering your palm. It’s not the worst injury you’ve ever had, in fact, you had very nearly forgotten it even existed— just a few scrapes from a rope tied far too tight.

You shake your head, biting back that surge of… something, that furry something that crawls from the fluttering organ behind your ribcage and down into the pits of your stomach. That feeling is also familiar, you felt it the first time you laid eyes on that pompous, boy-man serving as heir to the throne in the castle, at least, until he turned his head to look at you and your ilk with thinly veiled disgust.

If the specter sees scum before him, the veil does well to conceal it.

His eyes seem to only light up the more he appraised you, rubbing his thumb over your scrape with such a gentle touch that a shiver rips down your spine.

“I see…”

He guides your wrist back down to your side, delicately trails his fingertips up to your shoulder and… that’s it before he draws away and steps right past you. That’s all the touch you’re given and you find yourself, humiliatingly yearning for it. There should be nothing but contempt scraping at your skull and yet you feel treacherously endeared by this strange, strange faceless man living in this lonely castle.

The risk of this being some bewildering trap weighs heavy on your mind; you’re far more intelligent than some scrappy undead insect, begging to be tossed into a dusty crate, after all. You had heard of the way other lands treated necromancers: shunning them, chasing them from villages, and in far more dreadful cases— leading them to kneel before a headsman for decapitation.

You center yourself, force your mind to conjure up any evidence of some magical foul play only to be left with the knowledge that these feelings are entirely your own.

This man does not have the sticky aura of one dripping magic from his palms like thick globs of honey. He seems almost vacant, devoid of even anything making him human, while you stand transfixed and lacking even the sensible reaction of fear.

You can only find comfort in his gentle hand, in his stare like an unholy flame.

So, when he guides you to what is to be your dwelling you mouth does not part to argue. You’re led to a room larger than the entirety of the cluttered home you shared with the other witchlings. Everything within is worth more than even you, and something about it stings, sharp and sudden like ant’s venom seeping into skin.

From the canopy bed, draped over with thick velvet curtains to protect from the chill of a winter’s night to the neatly polished wood of varying furniture, it all feels so rich— so foreign.

“You didn’t have to prepare all of this for me… I don’t even… why am I here?” You’re rambling, searching every corner of the room with a flitting gaze as if some small patch of dust will provide you with the answers.

Your specter only laughs as he nudges you towards the bed, now your bed, the motion only sending another question to the forefront of your mind.

Were you bought? Meant to warm some peculiar stranger’s bed without even the grace of having the knowledge to prepare?

Perhaps your concerns should have drifted as to why you were not entirely opposed.

“Sleep.”

The simple command leaves you stifled entirely, all confusion and tentative excitement dispelled in an instant.

He wants nothing from you, only to extend a foreign cup spilling over with generosity to one who would not admit it was ever even needed.

You find yourself nodding your head, unaccustomed to the kindness of a forgotten thing like him. In truth, you’re unused to anything but bickering between the other ladies in the witch’s house, the cobwebs stretching without end caking the ceiling, the scuttle of crawling legs over your flesh as you pulled your threadbare blanket over your body to shield you from the cold. From stark poverty to this… it claws at your eyes, steels your mind— man or ghost, it mattered not; your heart sang while your mouth remains pressed into a stiff line.

When he leaves you, your body cloaked in the softest gown you’ve ever worn, burrowed beneath sheets of the finest silk, that unknown thing in your heart seems to spill over, rushing through your veins like honeyed wine.

You dream through the eyes of someone else that night.

A woman kneels at your feet with tears in her dark eyes. She hasn’t slept, the thick, dark patches just above where her cheeks rise make it evident, and she’s pleading with the you who is not you; this woman tells you that she wishes to go home, that she could never be a part of what you are or are not.

Even in dreaming you feel your jaw tighten, sure that your nails have splintered from the shooting pain in your fingertips as your hands tighten over the hard wood of your seat. The not you speaks for you, his voice coming warbled and distant. You can not make out the words, but seeing how this pleading woman’s face seems to morph into an expression of terror, you’re grateful to not know what’s been said.

Nothing becomes of her. You watch as she strolls away, unharmed. This other you, however, is. It’s the tingling of so many unseen legs parading through your chest; spiders in a downward course to burrow in the shadow of your belly. The discomfort rings out as you feel this body rise from its seat, out to the courtyard with a fountain. The flowing water subsided the clambering of spider limbs inside, just enough for this body to pull a ring from its pocket and cast it down into the clear water.

You watch the ring seat itself at the marble bottom, the gentle flow of water causing small ripples to crest over that tiny band of silver until you wake.

Confusion twists itself into curiosity as you free yourself from the sheets, padding out of your room still only adorned in the thin, white fabric of the gown. Morning light filtering through each window of the castle carves a path where the candles have long since been blown out. The only darkness here is with your captor, all tall and shadowy, and you find yourself considering the fact that perhaps you’ve been sucked down into some strange afterlife, one where you and this specter would remain in a silent stasis for all time. You find that you don’t entirely hate the idea, either.

Most of the rooms in the castle are dull. It’s not that there isn’t plenty to look at, but a cluttering of what’s expected, all gold and ornate, only proves to bore you. There is little mystery to be found in riches.

None of it is of importance, anyway. It’s him you’re seeking out, and oddly enough, you find your specter in the courtyard staring down at the cluttered fountain. He shifts in place as you take to his side, fingers curling into loose fists momentarily before he offers you a small greeting by way of running a hand along the back of your neck, petting you as though you truly were only a puppy.

You shiver beneath that warm touch, seem to melt against him before collecting yourself enough to straighten up.

“I did not sleep well,” he says quietly, the look in his eyes tells you that he dreamt through your own. He had seen the decay and filth of the king’s city, perhaps even those angry, little things that you brought back to bite and sting and pinch.

“I didn’t either.”

You recognize that faint, strange smell when you move just a step closer to him, like dust and forgotten things. Not quite rot, but similar, a comfort for you as it’s all your fate has ever allowed for you to know. Yet, this is not one of your reanimations. Only a man.

A man, only, like you; touched by the rot.

The realization crosses your face by way of a widened glance, a sharp intake of breath. It stings again when he turns away from you, drops his hand back to his side.

“Will you walk with me, hündchen?”

“Sure.”

It’s no less strange pacing along at his side than roaming about the castle with no idea where he is. The specter still feels worlds away, even as your arm brushes over his, your fingers occasionally ghosting over his gloved hand. While the vivid blue of globe thistles and hydrangeas entertains your vision, that patient stare of his remains trained on you, even as the quiet settles over the garden once again.

In a way, you feel as though you’re being courted, even as the questions remain scurried and fluttering in your mind. The ghost, the man, whoever he is, refuses to sate that curiosity of yours even as you bring it up to him again. Why? He only responds in an almost boyish laugh that pulls at your heart, infuriating and delightful all the same.

You share a meal, something you’ve no idea how he managed to scrounge together or had the time to prepare at all. He’s been at your side all morning, yet the fruit pastries and tea are served warm as you seat yourself across from him at some grand, oak table. That sparked tingle of magic does not feather off of him as it does with your sisters, but you know without a doubt that he must have it. You glower at him a bit, lips pursed and brow pinched as he sips at his tea, not beneath but through the fabric of his black veil.

“You will have to explain what’s going on at some point,” you huff, pushing your plate away as if to make a show of it. No more accepting his gifts, even if your stomach growls in protest. “Especially if you’re trying to court me.”

It’s cute how wide his eyes go at that, his cup of tea nearly slipping from his hand. The surprise wears off almost immediately, his eyes narrowing in what you imagine must be amusement as you’re left feeling a bit humiliated. Your gaze flits over to the candles adorning the table as you nervously drum your fingers against the lap of your dress.

“Court you?”

“The gown, the walk, the food… is that not what this is?”

“Nein, hündchen…” He pauses to sigh, setting the cup against the table with a dull thud. “It’s better that I did not.”

You think to question him further, but hold back the words bubbling in your throat, sullenly picking at the food on your plate instead. It feels like courtship, would look like courtship to anyone else, but then again… you’ve never quite experienced it for yourself, either. You’re no noble lady, and it feels a bit silly to imagine yourself roaming a place like this with him as your suitor. For all you know, he could be some king from a neighboring kingdom, only offering you respite out of pity after falling from that wagon.

More likely, all of this is just some strange dreaming.

When your lunch is thoroughly picked apart on your plate, the cup emptied, you shift out of your seat and offer him a curt little bow of your head and move towards the door.

— — —

Your days are filled with him— the drab specter you’ve taken to calling König, King, simple and befitting a name as you can give to one without one. No one else lives here, at least that you can see. Not even the rats or scuttling insects you were used to dare to take up residence within this castle. Yet, you remain taken care of and well-fed. You walk at his side every morning and part ways after minimal conversation in the evening. It’s so simple yet odd it almost makes you feel uneasy.

The dreams remain through the eyes of another. Some are combat, and you don’t care for those, looking down to see blood on steel and settling with the odd sense of guilt that you’ve killed someone, even when the you who is not you does not seem to pause. In fact, he often laughs in those dreams, drinks his wine from a golden goblet while he polishes the thick mace in his lap, trousers stained with blood that is not his own.

Others are dreadfully dull. You watch as knights with long swords and silver plates circle around you, your muffled voice shouting demands of what you can only imagine must be tactics and plans for a war you would only ever be apart of in the late hour with your eyes closed.

Your unease nearly doubles on the fourth night, when you wake with a start, pulled from a dream where you see that same woman from the first wailing over a bloodied corpse to find König looming over where you rest. The curtains of your bed parted with what little moonlight filtering inside bathing him in an unearthly, bluish glow. As usual, he doesn’t breathe a word, only stares as you slowly peel back your sheet to sit up and face him fully.

“Is something wrong?,” you ask in a whisper, rubbing your palms against your eyes as you force yourself to pull through the haze of sleep.

“Du bist schön wenn du schläfst,” he hums. “Even having a nightmare.”

“You said you were not courting me.”

“I’m not, hündchen.”

He offers you a hand that you readily accept, hardly having time to marvel over just how cold his skin feels without his glove before you find your cheek pressed to a broad chest. Your breath catches in your throat, heart hammering with the urgency of a cricket’s song.

“You didn’t sleep well either?”

“Nein.”

“Maybe we could sleep together?,” you offer with a laugh that sounds stiff even to your own ears.

You expect some other quip about the status of your peculiar relationship, not a sigh, not the way König gently lowers you back into bed and climbs in to follow, not at your side, but rested with his head over the swell of your breasts. You’re almost certain your rib cage will bruise by the pounding in your chest this infatuation burdens you with.

He hums contentedly at the contact, props his chin up on the valley between your breasts.

“Warm,” he murmurs.

You reach to pull the blanket over you both without a word, staring up at the velvet curtain as you try to force yourself into a state of calm indifference.

It lasts for all of a single breath; König shifts, stroking over the fabric of your gown, bunching over your hip. His touch makes you shiver, too cold, as though he doesn’t have any body heat at all. Your arm settles over the expanse of his back, pulling him just a tad closer as you relax into the feather-stuffed mattress.

“Ja… I like this.”

“I do too...”

So, you sleep, so intertwined with one another that your body heat melts away the frigid touch of his own flesh with no discernment for where you end and he begins. Your dreams are absent in his presence, replaced by a solace you’ve never known as a comfortable stillness settles over you both.

When morning comes, an unhurried sun casting a dull glow through the arched window in the room, you’re pleasantly surprised to find him still here. You’ve shifted in the lack of dreaming, finding your positions opposite to when sleep had taken its hold; your head rests on König’s chest now, comfortably slow. He doesn’t feel as cold, though…

König does not breathe.

You hurriedly rise, throwing the covers off of you both and shove at him with a panicked urgency, desperately searching for any sort of reaction from him to ensure he hasn’t passed away in his sleep.

It’s not a corpse’s silence that you’re met with but an annoyed huff of breath as he grabs at your wrists and tugs you back down.

“Was..?” Your specter only sounds annoyed as he gazed down at you, keeping your trembling hands steady in his unyielding grip.

“You weren’t breathing! I thought…” You trail off, the words catching in your throat as you realize just how ridiculous that you sound. Of course he wasn’t dead. Even if he were a reanimation, no magic in the entirety of this kingdom would allow him to retain so much of his soul.

König only laughs at that, closes you in an embrace that sets your pulse racing again as he carefully maneuvers you below him. When he had become so familiar mattered not, you wouldn’t dare to complain. It’s achingly comfortable, brings a sigh from your parted lips as you fall back into that perfect, placid state of contentment.

“Hündchen… you worry too much,” he huffs, caging you in as he relaxes with his face pressed back to the divot between your breasts. “So many questions… too many concerns, ja?”

“I would not fret so much if you would just explain a few things.”

“Geduld.”

Though you do pout, make a show of your irritation by exhaling heavily, his tone harbors a calm finality. You’re not so sure that any reasoning for all of this would matter much at all anymore; whether it be a dream or some gentle corner of an afterlife you’ve found yourself tucked within, you only find that you never wish for it to end.

— — —

This dream is worse than any before it.

You feel your vessel’s emotions tenfold; a clamor of disquiet and rage, vicious and searing. The air is still and silent but heavy with the scent of iron. From the blurred view that you’re granted, the shapes of cadavers are easy enough to tell, all lain twisted in glistening pools of their own blood.

Your vessel isn’t moving, though you will your thoughts to encourage him to do so, he remains in place, a pillar destined to topple.

You don’t want to see it, yet waking eludes you.

The sounds of hurried footsteps fill the quiet, a shout to your right that you do not even have the capability to turn towards. Cursed are hissed, warbled and unfamiliar, only recognized by their venom. You know that this is the end, a brutal, grisly one for your counterpart and for these dreams in their entirety.

When wicked steel carves it’s way into your vessel’s middle, you feel how tightly he clenched his jaw to bite back a howl of agony, take the subdued, shooting pain spreading through him as though it were your own. Try as you might, you can not wake; forced to be a voyeur to this stranger that you’ve grown fond of’s gruesome demise.

The vessel’s head is tugged forward, forced to kneel at the feet of the brute who has buried a dagger into his side. A sneer paints the man’s face as your counterpart’s veil is thrown away, and you recognize it— that same shroud of black, stained with imagined tears as it falls to a small heap onto a bloodstained floor.

König.

You wake with a start in a haze of utter confusion, catching your breath as the truth of it all crawls down to settle someplace within you. A cold sweat settles over your skin, bringing with it the rise of slight goose pimples and an incessant tremble.

The specter is just as you had suspected in that brief moment between bonding and sleep, dead and long-forgotten; a corpse made man again. This isn’t some silent kingdom, but a well-preserved crypt.

It hurts.

You wash your face in the water of the small basin at the corner of the room, change from your bed gown into a dress of a drab gray. Even to yourself, mourning a truth that’s been glaring you in the face since your arrival feels misplaced and odd, but that horrible sadness does not subside.

At least, not until you pry your door open to find König waiting just on the other side. He cocks his head at you, gaze softening in a silent understanding as your hand is fitted into his own.

The morning walk is less quiet this morning, a single dove could be heard cooing, hidden beneath the green of some sprawling alder’s leaves. König speaks to, explains some without giving all away. He tells you what he can remember, the details of his failed courting of the foreign princess with dark eyes and a petrified stare, the plot against him that dwindled out into a curse that’s left him here, but never an estimate for how long.

You listen in a perplexed silence, clutching his hand just a bit tighter as each questioning cobweb is swept away with a low voice droning out a story better left untold.

When he finishes, with your free hand sifting it’s fingers through the petals adorning a hydrangea shrub, you think to tell him one simple truth: “I can’t bring you back.”

It startles you when he suddenly pulls you in, resting his chin atop your head and curling those broad arms over your shoulders. The embrace is tight, a certain desperation in his touch as though he almost fears the thought of you pulling away. Strange from a man you now knew had not even feared his own death.

“Nein. I just want to be understood.”

And you do understand, perfectly, as only one also touched by the rot could.

— — —

There’s never a night that you don’t find yourself asleep with König mere centimeters away, if there is any gap between at all, anymore. He feigns his breath until you’re fast asleep, takes to playing human enough to not worry you any further, even after you explain that it doesn’t, not any longer. Always, you wake to his head buried against your chest, listening to the fragile beating of your heart until you stir to wake him. Your hands rove over his veil, but never question what he hides beneath it. You already know without seeing— the wicked, sprawling scar from where his head was once wrenched from his body.

A necromancer and a lich, of all things. If the bards in the King’s city were to ever know, your story would be passed from tavern to tavern until it became little more than the stuff of myth.

The thought occurs to you when you wake, huffing a drowsy little giggle as you repeat your morning ritual, fingertips grazing over the dark fabric obscuring König’s face until heavy eyelids languidly part to focus his attention on that mirthful expression painted across your face.

“I have changed my mind,” he declares some moments later as he nuzzles in the divide between your neck and shoulder, unhurried and gentle as he always seems to be with you.

“Hm?”

“I will court you.” A statement that would make most with a better grasp on the disparity between what’s living and dead flinch back in horror. Though, where most would consider corruption, you only take it as further confirmation to your mutual devotion.

“You already have been.”

He falls silent at that for a moment, trailing a cold path of chaste kisses along your jaw, lazy and soft to a point you can feel the grin beneath his hood.

Finally, he hums in agreement.

“Then I should have you, hm?”

He drags a palm down your thigh to your knee, the pad of his thumb bunching up the fabric of your gown as he presses against you, tracing small circles.

Your mouth feels dry when you part your lips to speak once more. The words falter, engulfed in a far more desperate flame; someplace far off, in the back of your mind you can hear them echo, bouncing from cavern walls.

“Hündchen..,” he rasps quietly. Maybe he’s thought it too, that this should be far more innocent, but the way he furiously tugs your undergarments down to your ankles belies his interest far more than some ideal, ancient telling of courtship would ever allow.

“You want to..?”

König laughs, whether it’s at your words or the surprise on your face, you didn’t know. Despite your nudity, he doesn’t look at you down there, his eyes remain locked on your face. There’s something wild and uncanny about them, something bordering on madness. His breathing is heavier, as if he’s fighting back the urge to bury his head in your cunt and breathe you in, and you’re almost certain that after all of your yearning he could bring you to ruin from a puff of breath alone.

He echoes your question with barely contained amusement, until you breathe out your consent. You sound just uncertain enough to prompt him to pull away briefly, raising up to look you in the eyes as his own narrow in search of any signs of apprehension. Finding none, a heavy palm meets your chest to push you to lie down in full as his head dives between your thighs without hesitation.

The feeling of a wide tongue slipping over your slit prompts an immediate reaction— a sharp cry that has you slamming your palm over your mouth in an effort to not break the peace settled over this place.

Every lick is slow and deliberate, a far cry from enough stimulation to properly get you off. It’s as if he’s doing this to prepare you rather than bring you to ruin. His tongue thrusts into you at a languid pace, fucking you open with heady muscle rather than the cold touch of his fingers. For that you’re grateful, but it just isn’t enough.

König huffs another chuckle against your sex when you whine and buck your hips, desperately searching for a friction that just isn’t being supplied. His hands press against your hips to hold you in place, the pads of his thumbs circling against your abdomen as he tries to set you at ease.

“Be patient,” he mumbles as he raises his head, bottom lip slowly raking over the hood of your aching clit. You find it difficult to comply, but in a way you feel fortunate to even experience this much. Who else could say that they were being fucked by the tongue of a titan and be believed? His lips close around your sensitive bud, tongue languidly circling over it, kissing you there as gently as he can manage. The very moment a moan is pulled from you, breaking the silence of his concentration he tears back to lick far further down than you were prepared for, before climbing over you instead of allowing you a release.

The taste of you lingers on his tongue when your face is pushed beneath the veil, an urgent probing as he thrusts the muscle into your waiting mouth, sampling the mixture of your saliva and slick. A palm is splayed over your thigh, forcing you to open yourself to him despite the strain.

He proves he’s less patient than he pretends to be; that’s all of the preparation that you get.

A breath later you feel yourself speared open, the girth of his tip slipping into you with involuntary resistance. Your gasp is met with a keening groan from his open mouth, quickly stifled as he bites into the side of your neck. Each thrust is shallow, the head of his cock spreading you meticulously until you’re nearly in tears from your own impatience. His body temperature is far cooler than your own, and you feel as if you’re more of a mess than you’ve ever been prior as his own precum mixes with the arousal already freely dribbling past your swollen labia.

You kick your leg out, force your hips in a different angle to push him in deeper only to have his grip tighten and his teeth dig into your flesh. Again and again, until you’re a babbling mess beneath him.

“König… please..,” You manage to choke out, voice small and barely audible over the obscene sounds pulled from the wetness of your cunt.

Immediately, your pleading is answered with a slam of his hips, the thick cock forced to its hilt inside of your pulsing walls. König’s head lolls back, his free hand curling over your hip as he grunts. He isn’t making love to you, but fucking into you like a man possessed. A palm fitted over your mouth wouldn’t silence the obscene sounds of sex, nor the bed creaking beneath your combined weight as he pumps into you; each drag is pure rapture as he fills you entirely.

The repetitive spearing of your sweet spot brings you to a near-painful orgasm, trembling cunt only sucking him in further with each pulsing wave of bliss. The quiet is forgotten entirely as you whine out your praises between wanton moans and breathy cries.

He kisses you, proper and sweet when he comes. The thickness of his seed floods you, spilling out onto the sheets below as he fucks it back into you, his pace never slowing until the throbbing of his cock comes to an abrupt end.

The hand holding your leg in place retreats to gently brush your cheek, his thumb grazing beneath your eye until you reach for his wrist to pull it down to kiss over his palm. He returns your kisses with a breathy laugh before pressing his forehead to your own, kissing from the tip of your nose down to your chin.

“I do understand,” you whisper against cool flesh.

“Ja… because you were made for me.”

You don’t disagree.

This morning is the first you’ve caught sight of a breeze, gently pushing at the curtains lining the bed, the first you’ve heard of any semblance of life beyond yourself. When your eyelids flutter shut, relaxation prying away any residual tension, you almost think you can hear the pounding of a second heart— one you can only think to wish together with your own.

#könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #konig x you #cod fanfiction #könig #konig #and now i sleep for 40hrs farewell everyone everywhere

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