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occamstfs · 4 months

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Spanish Shortcuts

Heyo, Here’s a Latino cultural/racial change, also my first foray into a possession transformation! Lessons to be learned about clicking dodgy links and letting spirits walk all over you!

¡Espero que lo disfrutes Atajos en Espanol! -Occam

The foreign language requirements of any American high school are guaranteed to be lackluster. It is no wonder that a nation so fixed on instilling American and English supremacy was so wont to neglect the study of foreign languages and culture. For his part Claude had just about forgotten all the Spanish that he learned not too many years ago. At the present moment he is browsing the web looking for some way to reclaim and improve on his meager knowledge. Despite his desire however, he is shockingly unwilling to do much at all to pursue this end.

Rather than the tried and true method of studying each day Claude is instead looking for not only the easy way, but an instantaneous way to regain his lost knowledge. This is obviously a beyond foolish endeavor, though having long heard tales of people waking up speaking in languages they hadn’t learned he was deep in rabbit holes online scouring for a ticket to bilingualism. Unwilling to admit that they were just old wives’ tales or shitposts he clicks link after link sure the next one will lead to some fruition.

Deep in websites he certainly should not be visiting without a firewall he actually stumbles on a thread in Spanish. Hastily translating the page through Google it promises the fluency of a native speaker through a single click. Claude scratches his cheek wondering whether or not to go through with it, could be malware, probably just a link to a meme or the like. He looks at the link in blue text, it’s just a name: Carlos Herrero. With little further ado Claude decides fuck it what’s the worst that could happen and clicks the name in blue.

The lights in his room flicker as his hand holding his mouse is promptly shocked. He pushes away from his desk shaking his hand in pain as suddenly there is a chill in the air. He shivers as he hears a voice, deep and unknown, whispering in his ear. “Hola hola hola mi perrito.” Claude shakes his head feeling the tickle of a beard on his cheek and swats at the air. “Ay! Lo siento, ah- ¿cuál es su nombre? Claude ¿Verdad? ¿Me entiendes?” (Ah! Sorry, uh- What is your name? Claude, is it? Can you understand me?)

Claude looks around his room in shock at this mysterious voice, immediately assuming he’s lost his mind. He shakes his head trying to wake up or come to his senses, after a few shakes he feels a cold powerful hand grasp his jaw. He hears the voice continue to speak in words he couldn’t understand and did his best not to process lest it worsen the state of his mind. His eyes widen in shock as he stares into the space, feeling the skin on his face contort in response to a hand that is not there. He feels the grip tighten and his breathing accelerates as he starts to hyperventilate.

As if in response to his fear the hand disappears from his face and he feels a heavy arm around his shoulder. “¿No querías saber español?” (Do you not want to know Spanish?) Claude’s ears pick up as he hears Spanish he can just about recall. In doing so his brain immediately reprocessed the preceding events in order to maintain any semblance of sanity. The link must have worked! This is just a dream or something that will end with him knowing Spanish, just like a video game. He just needs to play along until he wakes up. Neglecting how real everything clearly is he addresses the voice, willing himself to believe whatever it is that it’s not malevolent. “Okay, uh I’m down for whatever, thanks for your help, uh, ghost?”

“De Nada, Claudio.” With this Claude’s visions flicker as the chill in the air fills him. He gasps and sees his breath condensate as every inch of his body is ice cold. Claude falls out of his chair and scratches at himself, instinctively trying to claw something out of his body. He rolls onto his hands and convulses, retching as if trying to throw something up. As the seconds pass he feels his body rapidly warm from the bitter freeze, unsure if this is a mirage of heat like the comfort one feels in the throes of hypothermia he paws at his chest.

Before finding confirmation in any way Claude hears the alluring whispers once more, though this time not tickling his ear. Rather it is now a voice within his own head. “Testing testing, ah would you look at that. Now I’m speaking a language you can understand huh? Hahah!” Claude’s brow furrows as he wipes spit from his mouth. This was not the easy nap and wake up anew process that he was promised. As if it had access to his thoughts the voice responds to this. “Ah sorry if I misled you little guy, this is going to be a bit of work. Trust though! It will certainly be easier and quicker than wasting your time studying!” Claude rolls his eyes before remembering since this is probably a dream that at the very least in reality this will be over briefly.

Claude then tilts his head and asks out loud to the voice in his head, “Why are you speaking in English now?” It sounds just like the one he heard earlier, if not a little more playful as it responds, “Ahh language processors, something or other- Don’t worry your little head about it, in time we both will be thinking in Espanol ya? In the meantime why not jumpstart it!” Claude purses his lips trying to find the inscrutable voice’s intentions as he does so the heat in his body begins to convert to energy.

He suddenly feels as if he’s had enough caffeine to power a body three times his size. He feels every muscle in his body demand attention and exercise as his hands start to shake. “Oh would you look at that! If it’s any help any time I used to get excited or stressed I’d always hit the gym, ya dig?” Already motioning to get changed for the gym to blow off some of this energy Claude pauses to once more try and understand the implications of the voice’s statement. “Sorry, what do you mean you used to?”

There is then a jarring silence in his mind. Claude stands, gym clothes in hand, without a thought in his mind before the voice replies trying its best to disarm him despite its deep gruff tone, “Ah well, you know how these things go, it’s just dream logic right? This is all lucid dream, the quicker you stop questioning the sooner you’ll be a pro.” He feels a vein of chill air dash through his mind once more and he nods in agreement. His eyes lose their sharpness as he decides to just listen, throwing on some clothes and heading out.

Heeding the voice he endeavors not to question his circumstances. He gets in his car and does not wonder why, if he is truly dreaming, that he did not just poof over. Feeling his heart start to beat quickly in his chest, in response to anxiety in his chest or to the energy only continuing to course through his veins he is not sure. He looks in his rearview mirror to calm himself and sees the same reflection he always has. Claude smiles at himself seeing at least his appearance is static in this dreadful dream and heads in to get this over with, the voice in his cheering him on as he makes his way in. Increasing in fervor and volume with each step towards the door.

Once inside he Claude is shocked as the voice suddenly drops out of his head leaving him once more with the harsh silence of but his own thoughts. After having such a loud visitor in his mind he is almost uncomfortable with the feeling. Stepping up to the counter to check in he greets the receptionist, “Heyo! It’s Claudio hermano!” The receptionist tilts his head as for a second it’s almost like two voices came from the man in front of him. Claude looks down at himself and clears his throat before trying again, “Lo, Urgh, Sorry about that, Um It’s Claude Smith.”

The receptionist checks him in and Claude goes off to stretch. He doesn’t usually spend much time at the gym, just enough to stay thin. But something inside him tells him that today will be different. Something inside him. His head twitches to the side as the idea washes across his mind. Looking around the room to ensure he’s alone he tries talking to the voice, doing so he does not notice that his pitch has lowered, “Hey uh, I know you told me not to ask questions. But did you make me call myself Claudio earlier?” Having paused his stretches he feels a burning in his arms and legs demanding they keep moving. Obeying the pain, his lips quiver as if he’s about to speak and the voice responds, “Ay ¿Crees? (You think so?)Es just a slip of the tongue ya?”

Claude continues stretching carefully, taking deep breaths to assuage the anxiety building in his chest. He is facing away from the wall of mirrors, unintentionally or through some subtle manipulation. Otherwise he may notice as his hair slowly begins to darken to a deep shade of brown. The blonde locks he has always been proud of maintain their length as they darken unnaturally. The thought pops into his head that he would look good with brown hair si? He shakes it away as soon as it appears though, biting his lip to avoid voicing his concern at how much power this “voice” has over him.

Trying to center himself he closes his eyes as he continues to stretch. The companion in his mind is thankfully quiet as he pushes away the discomfort at the silence and instead appreciates the freedom. Little does he know the presence is simply acting on him in other avenues as he stretches. Claude smiles as he feels the burning relief of his stretches, grunting quietly enough that he notices not how his voice has continued to deepen, inching closer to the voice that is not his own.

The pleasant burn of his legs as he stretches them becomes almost intoxicating as he leans against the mirrored wall. Were his eyes open he would see his calves begin to grow beyond those that he wakes up to every morning. They begin to bulge larger and longer as he extends them. Muscle the size of a baseball forces its way onto them as he stands smiling dumbly. His thighs then stain larger to match pace as they expand to hold the weight of someone a foot taller than he. The soothing burn of stretching hides the soreness that should be apparent and Claude begins to sweat as if he has been heartily working out for some time now.

Not to be outdone there is a whisper in his head that he should stretch his arms as well. Without a further thought, almost without his mind even sending the order to do so, his arms are out in front of him. Each second his arms lie extended they stretch further out from his torso. Claude motions to stretch his shoulders, wrapping one arm around the other, his biceps rub against each other as he squeezes his arm tight to his chest. His arms begin to show a bulge of muscle as he stands there biting his lip at the pleasure being wrought upon him through simple stretching.

Finally he raises his arms above his head to stretch his meager chest, struggling to do so as his larger muscles have begun to impede his dexterity. With his arms in the air and his pits exposed he notices that something has begun to stink up the locker room he’s been stretching in. Claude opens his eyes looking for the assailant, to no avail. He turns his head to the side thoughtlessly putting his nose in his pit, finding the scent closer he takes a deep breath before finding himself starting to chub at the scent. The voice in his head laughs, “¡Jajaja! ¡Nice brazos (arms) perrito! ¿A ti también te gusta mi olor, eh?” (You like my smell as well huh?)

Despite his best efforts at centering himself during his stretches, he is once more consumed with anxiety. He looks down at his body that he knows should be petite but instead finds one that does not go two days without hitting el gimnasio. He flinches as his mind automatically went for the word in Spanish. Wait, did the voice in his head just say his smell!? He sniffs the air and a thought forces itself to the front of his mind, Well this is what I wanted wasn’t it? His ears ring as he is not sure if those are his thoughts or ones implanted by whatever monster is doing this to him.

Claude feels an itch on his hand and he looks down to see the hand that clicked that link some time ago as it begins to darken. He sees a rich tan begin to spread up his suddenly muscular arm as veins throb down it aiming to increase the mass. “Q- What es, happening!?” Claude turns to look in the mirror and finds the tan racing across his body. He sees the patches of his unmistakably white skin tone become naturally sunkissed as his eyes widen in shock. He freezes up and the voice in his head takes advantage and tries to seize control outright, flexing his arm and revealing the thin patch of blonde hair in his pit as it grows dark as the hair on his head and thickens beyond the pale. The voice speaks in his mind deeper and stronger than ever as he begins to outright vie for control, “Tranquilo Claudio. (Chill out Claudio.) Let us see what I can do jaja!”

It takes a bit of concerted effort but the voice, who outs himself unsurprisingly as Carlos himself, step by step forces Claude’s body across the room in his catatonia. Claude feels a smirk on his face as Carlos positions him at the bench press. He clumsily lays back on the bench before checking the weights. Looks like some cabrón left his weights on the bar, though actually it's fortunate as Carlos doubts he has the ability to do such complex motor functions as he feels Claude start to wake from his stupor.

Carlos feels an itch on Claude’s face and he begins to smirk as he feels facial hair begin to grow, “Ay he might have cojones yet jaja!” Claude feels his mouth move of its own accord and finally notices that his voice has lowered considerably and he feels his body struggle as he tries to gasp as hears it develop a deep accent.

Before Claude can wrestle control back Carlos grabs for the bar and starts to do a rep. He grunts as he realizes this body is simply not strong enough at the moment to manage the weight that was left on the rack. As the pole is just about to pin him however Claude senses the peril and both minds in the body force the bar up. “¡Bien Claudio! Let’s see what we can do juntamente si?” (together yes?) Claude tries to grunt out a protestation but is suddenly racked with pain as his body must grow larger to force the bar up.

Both men feel as weight begins to pile onto the twink’s only recently muscled body. Claude feels as pecs develop on his chest, totally ripping the tank top that had grown tight while stretching. Carlos feels as his biceps surge larger than the thighs this weak body had not two hours ago. The expression on his face flickers between ecstasy and concern as he lies on the bench doing repetitions as his core strengthens and puts on mass.

After his chest and arms grow large enough to send existential fear into Claude’s mind and a hungry lust for more into Carlos’ balls, Claude stumbles off the bench and falls to the floor, letting the weights crash next to him. He feels pin pricks as tattoos begin to stain his tanned skin and he cries out in his changed voice, “No! Este es- This isn’t right!” with each word his voice cracks deeper and the English words become a tad more difficult to maneuver his mouth around. Without a beat, Carlos immediately takes control of his mouth and responds as his voice finishes changing to match the one in his head. “Ah, ahí estás equivocado amigo. Esto es perfección.” (Ah, there you are wrong friend. This is perfection)

Claude stands to stare in the mirror watching sweat trail down his body and ink rise in his skin. He looks at his chin as a beard begins to shadow his face. He sees his eyes as they flicker and begin to darken to a deep cacao brown. His lip quivers as if he is about to cry before without any input from him it turns to a sneer as he feels Carlos chastise him without words. Claude feels a pit in his chest as not only does he not need to hear them, he begins to feel the disdain himself. As if the will of Carlos was starting to become his own.

This causes a surge in his crotch as he feels in that regard Carlos has already wrestled full control. He feels his balls that are not his begin to grow and demand attention. They feel full and needy as pre begins to leak out of his growing erection. That happens anytime he goes to the gym si? As his eyes shift down to see his bulge make itself known his facial hair expands and his pubes begin to crest above his waistline. The small bush of pit hair begins to grow into a jungle as his balls work overtime to produce testosterone to power his poderoso body.

Feeling the hormones from Carlos’ balls pump through his veins Claude realizes what a losing battle he faces. He feels his thoughts begin to mingle with the man he foolishly allowed into his body as he begins to feel himself overwhelmed with the pressure and lust issuing forth from his crotch. He feels his fluency in English begin to wane as Carlos begins to overpower every aspect of his personality. Claude continues to stare at his reflection in the mirror and the anxiety and fear rapidly dissipate as he enjoys the power that he wields. “¡Dios estoy tan chacondo!” (God I’m so Horny) The two men voice as one, his voice reverberating through his chest as he feels power continue to surge through him.

Claude watches as his body flexes itself in the mirror without a single thought or any input from him. Not that he minds, it’s doing exactly what he would be doing anyway si? He smirks seeing his cock bob up and down as he struts across the gym floor. Every thought in his head is in fluent Spanish as he feels his identity fully mingle with Carlos’ as they truly become one. Despite this originally being Claude’s body he feels himself shrink and mold as he becomes an aspect of Carlos’ personality. Every action, every word, every movement will be crafted by the two of them. Though altogether Claude will just about always find himself thinking just as Carlos does, and both minds will more often than not be ruled by the powerful hormones coming from below.

“Debería haber preguntado sobre los términos y condiciones, Hermano.” (Should’ve asked for the terms and conditions bro.) He thinks to himself as he makes his way to the gym’s showers to pump one out. Over time even Carlos would forget that this has not always been his body. Each day he would continue to make it his own, increasing his mass and power. Outgrowing a wardrobe of clothes he would never be caught dead wearing. It did not take long at all to establish his supremacy as Carlos Herrero. Though there was some inherent difficulty navigating this land only knowing Spanish, Carlos managed well enough, confident that if needed he could perhaps let his passenger breathe enough to regain some English. At this point however it’s hard to say if any remnants of Claude remain, and moreover if he would even desire to emerge back into his own mind, it is of course much easier to simply indulge in the ceaseless pleasure he has found for himself within Carlos’ mind.

#male tf #cultural change #racial change #masculinization #hair growth #race change #mental change #possession #jockification #muscle tf

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clip-the-simp · 1 month

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A Logan Holiday

Ao3 Master list

Pairing: Logan Howlett // Wolverine x mutant!fem!reader

Word count: 2,536

Cw: slight proofreading, fluff, slight angst, winter holidays, language, alcohol, talks of war (?), this really is just kinda fluffy.

Summary: The reader tried to find Logan to celebrate the winter holidays. She finds him isolating himself from the festivities but doesn’t allow him to sulk in peace.

A/N: I got the writing bug and it’s for Logan. 7 year old me should NOT have been so down bad for this man but she was. But I guess that’s what happens when you have raging parental issues. Enjoy this very out of season dribble.

The air had chilled from the winter that settled in during December. Snow dusted over the grounds of the Xavier Institute as it fell softly from the sky. Most of the children had gone home for the winter break but there were always a few that stuck around the mansion. However, even with many of the school's inhabitants gone, the halls were still lively with the holiday spirit.

Gambit along with Rouge were busy in the kitchen whipping up treats for everyone to enjoy. Their laughs could be heard from the hall as you passed which filled your heart with warmth.

Jubilee tasked herself with the responsibility to run through the mansion halls and decorat to her heart's content. She had nearly ran into you multiple times from not paying attention but it was understandable. Her and Kurt had challenged one another to see who was the better decorator. And from the look of things Jubilee was going to win this one.

Jean and Scott were busy putting up a pine tree in the massive living room. The tree towered over everyone who stood near it but that just gave ample opportunity for decorating. Scott of course took the lower branches while Jean used her abilities to fly to the top. Presents laid under the tree for everyone who stayed for the winter and it brought a smile to your face as you thought about all the love that filled the school.

Leaning against the door frame, you couldn’t help but think about how much you would enjoy spending this time with Logan but he was nowhere to be found. He had run off that morning and you couldn’t track him down. You knew he didn’t like the holidays but you wish he wouldn’t run off like he did. There was a hand suddenly on your shoulder that forced you out of your thoughts. Startled, you jumped around and found Ororo behind you. She looked just as shocked at your reaction as you were.

“Wow now it’s just me.” She reassured you with a smile. Having taken her hand off your shoulder, she returned it to her hot coffee mug that was in her other hand. You let out a sheepish chuckle as you caught yourself.

“Sorry Ororo. Been a little in my head this evening.” You leaned back against the door frame and continued watching as Jean placed the star at the top of the tree. Ororo hummed an understanding note with a nod.

“You’re worried about Logan, aren’t you?” She questioned as she took a slow sip from her drink. You gave her a weak smile at her acknowledgment. Everyone knew you were close to Logan, but no one knew just how close.

It was a one sided kinda love. The two of you had lived through the same worldly events. With every war you had found your way back to him. Although he never had noticed you. Your role was always that of a medic and since Logan never needed medical attention he had never taken notice of you. Sure there were many occasions he would bring a fellow soldier back from the battlefield, bloody and barely holding on to life, but he never stayed long. Through every war you had been there to watch him and his brother fight both on and off the field. When a war would end the two of you would part ways for the time, but war never changed and it always brought you back.

During the Vietnam war however was when you thought you lost him forever. After Logan’s brother Victor had killed a commanding officer they were sent to be executed. You knew it wouldn’t work but there was still a pain in your chest from knowing you wouldn’t see Logan again. That was until many years later when Scott had hauled Logan’s limp body into the institute which caused your heart to seize in your chest. But even with Logan being so close now you didn’t dare confuse that love you still felt for him. Not only because of your cowardice but also due to his lack of memory. There was no chance you would pursue what only you could remember of him.

So you decided to build a new. Scrubbing your memories of the old Logan for ones to make with the one standing today. He was still mostly the same gruff man you knew, but he no longer remembered what all had happened to him. With those thoughts floating though your head you shook them away to bring yourself back to the moment. Ororo looked at you with a soft smile and gentle eyes.

“How did you know?” You asked jokingly as you crossed your arms over your chest. Your smile became more stable as you straightened your posture. “You haven’t seen him have you?”

“Not since this morning. But Charles may have better knowledge of his whereabouts.” She offered before stepping through the large doorway. You watched as she settled herself down on the couch in front of the fireplace. The fire crackled and kept the room warm despite the large windows that covered most of the walls in the room.

Deciding to take Ororo’s suggestion you went to find The Professor. If you remembered correctly he and Hank had settled into the library to play chess while reminiscing on the past. Making your way there you bumped into Kurt who teleported right in front of you causing him to run into your chest.

“Oh, sorry! Gotta run! Can’t have Jubs beat me!” And with that he was gone in a flash. A chuckle left your lips as you made it to the library where you found Charles. The men sat at a table with a chest bored in front of them, but as you entered both raised their heads to look at you.

“Hello professor, I’m sorry to bother you but have you seen Logan?” Your words came out more rushed then had been intended but you were starting to get antsy. He couldn’t have just dropped off the face of the earth. All the vehicles were still in the garage so you know he was here somewhere.

“I haven’t my dear. But we both know how he gets around the holidays.” The Professor informed you with a wariness in his voice. Charles was the only one to know of your history with Logan and understood your care for the man. You let out a sigh as another attempt to find Logan failed.

“I know. But Thank you Professor, I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. See ya.” You bid farewell to the two chess players before walking to your room. It was almost driving you mad trying to find Logan. Deciding to take a break you went to your room to change and grab the gift you had for the Wolverine. You had been walking around the mansion in your sweatpants and a festive long sleeve shirt but decided it was time to take the search outside.

As you finished changing into your jeans and put on a jacket over your long sleeve you looked out the window. When looking outside you’re immediately greeted with the pond, but if you look farther you can see some of the trees that scatter the grounds, limbs bare of leaves. In one of those trees you had spotted a shadowy figure amongst its branches. There was no doubt in your mind who it was. So in a quick fashion. You laced up your shoes, grabbed the gift off your night stand, and ran out the door as you tucked it into a large inner pocket of your jacket.

The air bit at your exposed skin as you stepped out. The snow was still falling steadily to the ground as you found yourself outside. Not wanting to get your shoes to wet you formed a small disk of light particles and jumped on.

Your mutation allowed you to manipulate atoms on a subatomic level which you used to your utmost advantage. But you never used them in the ways a villain would, only ever utilizing them for shield defense or healing small injuries on others.

Maneuvering the disk under your feet you made your way over to the tree Logan resided in. It didn’t take long before you were at the base of the tree. Dissolving the light you had used leaving you standing in the snow behind Logen, you stared up at him.

Logan’s face was lit only by the full moon that hung high in the sky, casting a glow over his features. His brows were furrowed while deep in thought as he slumped over the tree limb he was perched on. You couldn’t help admiring him even if he seems upset. Taking a moment to clear your throat you began to speak.

“Mind if I join you?” You heard a grumble from the man as he registered your existence. Taking a moment to unslouch his shoulders he looked down at you .

“I just can’t seem to lose you can I?” Logan gruffed as he watched you summon another disk to lift you up into the tree. His eyes trained on your every move as you plopped down beside him on the sturdy branch.

“You have no idea.” You retorted as you let your legs swing back and forth. He raised his eyebrow at that remark which caused you to pale slightly. “Why don’t you come inside? It’s a lot warmer and you wouldn’t be alone.” You quickly changed the subject back to your mission. A slight growl left Logan’s throat as he slumped back into his previous stance.

“That’s why I’m out here, kid. I want to be alone.” His eyes became fixed on the vast yard that laid before him. The snow was building steadily over the grass as the temperature continued to drop.

“Well that’s too damn bad.” You informed him which only caused his brow to furrow deeper. His leather jacket tightened against his back as he inhaled. Logan knew you weren’t going to just leave him. No matter how mean he got or how unsavory, you stayed. He never understood why and figured he never would.

“But since you’re not going to come in,” you opened up your jacket to pull out the present. He turned his attention back to you and his eyes widened just a fraction. “here. I got you a little something.”

It wasn’t wrapped due to its odd shape but you figured he wouldn’t mind too much. As you handed it over he took a moment to examine it. On an overnight mission in Ireland Logan and yourself had found a local pub. He wasn’t too picky when it came to his whisky but you couldn’t help notice the way he enjoyed this particular brand.

So on the last day of the mission you had wandered back into that same bar and bribed the bartender to sell you an unopened bottle. You were lucky to not have been caught with the liquor on your way back into the institute.

It clicked in Logan’s head instantly as he turned the bottle over in his hands. The Amber liquid sloshed steadily around the glass as he turned it. You watched as he examined it, slowly starting to become self conscious of the gift. His silence wasn’t helping either. The cold had started to bite through your jacket causing you to pull the zipper up your neck. Your gaze fell to the ground below as you started to ramble.

“I saw how you enjoyed it while we were in Ireland so I just thought-“ you were cut off as Logan pulled you into his side. His hand rested on your waist as he brought you closer. The warmth he radiated through his own jacket soothed the chill that had begun to settle into your bones. You looked up at Logan a bit astonished and found he was already looking at you.

“Thank you.” He said simply. There was a genuine appreciation in his tone which caused your face to warm. He was so close which sent your system into overload. Your body grew hot as a spark shot up your spine from the contact.

“No problem.” You replied with a slight shake in your voice. Logan’s grip on your waist disappeared as he shuffled beside you. Too focused on the loss of contact you were startled when his jacket was draped over your shoulders. The smell of his cigars and a lingering scent of pine filled your nose. You couldn’t help tucking yourself further into the warm leather, pulling your arms through the sleeves.

“Thank you. Guess my jacket wasn’t as thick as I thought it was.” You sheepishly admitted. Logan let out a chuckle before placing his arm back around you. His other hand still gripped the bottle of Whisky.

“You should get back inside before you catch a cold.” He warned, his thumb slowly rubbing your side. You let out a chuckle before poking at his shoulder.

“I’m not leaving without you.” A smile bloomed across your face as he let out a sigh. He knew you weren’t lying when you said that. There had been many occasions you had done it before, he both loved and hated that about you. With a grumble he removed his arm from around your waist and jumped down from the tree.

“Come on then.” He said before placing the bottle of whisky in the snow and reached a hand up towards you. A look of skepticism passed over your face as your head tilted to the side.

“Are you going to catch me?” You couldn’t help but ask. There was no doubt in your mind that he wouldn’t. Logan never deliberately hurt you, except for a few times during training. But you had asked him to not hold back, so he didn’t.

“Always.” Logan reassured you with a smile across his face. The branch wasn’t too high up but it would still hurt like a bitch if you landed wrong. So with cautious movement you pushed yourself off and within seconds you were against Logan’s chest. Your arms wrapped around his neck and he held you flush to his body.

You didn’t want to let go. It felt so right being this close to him in his embrace. However you knew that moment had to come to an end. He put you down so your feet were on solid ground before turning to pick up the whisky bottle. Your grip tightened on Logan’s jacket as he began to walk toward the mansion. You summoned one last disk before gliding beside him. Hovering off the ground you were now eye level with Logan.

“I knew you’d come around.” You leaned in to elbow him, he was so easy to tease. Sure Logan had a bad temper and an even worse past, but even with his gruff exterior he was a sweet guy underneath. As much as he didn’t want to admit it. He looked over at you and placed an arm across your shoulders. Hand resting on your shoulder and giving a slight squeeze.

“Shut up.” He grumbled.

#x men #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine #x female reader #x fem!reader #x reader fanfiction #fanfic #writing #writers on tumblr #female writers

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runariya · 7 days

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The Auction (JJK) • Chapter 3

pairing: wolf hybrid!Jungkook x cat hybrid!female reader genre: mafia!AU, hybrid!AU, dystopian!AU, S2L, dark romance, slow burn, angst rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: angst, being held hostage, repeated sniffing, obsession and possessiveness, OC snaps, JK is twisted and doesn't understand the concept of personal space, lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 3.2K

a/n: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

1 • 2 • masterlist • 4

For six consecutive long days, the routine repeats itself, a charade of all charades, like the ticking of a clock inside a cage, each second tightening around you. You remain confined to that room, trapped beneath its opulent veneer, while Jimin is your only fleeting connection to anything resembling humanity. Once a day, he brings food, and with it, moments of silence that gradually give way to hushed conversations, the kind that seep into your bones and momentarily calm the tremors within you.

His words, ringing with understanding and a soft insistence that perhaps this new life is safer, better even, echo in your mind like a lullaby you can’t quite believe in. And yet, they cling to you, especially when night falls, and Jungkook returns to claim the bed beside you.

Every night is the same – he enters, his presence filling the space like night swallowing light, and without a shred of modesty, he strips, showers, and slips into bed next to you. He always presses a kiss to the back of your head, and though you feign sleep, you know he senses your wakefulness, yet does nothing, only lies there, close enough to feel the warmth of him, his breath against your skin.

Despite Jimin's persistent reassurances, the soothing rhythm of his voice telling you over and over that this is where safety lies, that it’s time to surrender and accept, there’s something within you that won’t quiet. It claws at you relentlessly, this urge to escape the gilded prison Jungkook keeps you in, the urge to break free from the walls that hold you in their cold grip. And as each day passes, you find yourself resisting more, your defiance growing like a dark bloom, unfurling slowly but surely.

It begins simply enough, with you speaking those words, softly, unsure at first, each morning before Jungkook leaves “I want to go home.” Each time, your voice grows a little stronger, like an incantation you hope will break the spell, but his response never wavers, always delivered with the same calm and maddening certainty that chills you to your core: “You are home.”

But today, however, is different, as you actively choose defiance. When Jungkook returns from whatever dark kingdom he rules outside these walls, you aren’t curled in bed, waiting like some fragile thing for his presence to weigh down upon you. No, you stand in the centre of the room, your spine straight, your eyes unwavering like steel as they meet his. The air between you crackles for the first time, your pulse quickening as his dark eyes lock onto yours. He towers over you, his height and strength an undeniable force, but something within you surges recklessly. Jimin’s words—'you’re different, he won’t harm you'—echo in the recesses of your mind, feeding you a false sense of untouchability.

Jungkook stops, his gleaming eyes narrowing slightly, taking in the shift in you, the way you stand as though you might fight back. And for a moment, the silence between you is pulsing with all the unspoken things that have yet to come crashing down.

“I want to go home,” you hiss, the snarl of your voice trembling out of your lips, fury seeping into every fibre of your being as your tail bristles, stiff with the kind of raw anger that claws at your very bones, your fangs bared in a snarl that betrays the storm brewing beneath your skin.

Jungkook’s lips curl into a smirk, a sinister amusement flickering in his dark gaze as his own tail wags lazily behind him, as if your defiance, your venom, is nothing more than entertainment to him—a game. “You are home, kitten,” he drawls, each word dripping with an insidious confidence that grates against your ears like nails on glass.

“I’m fucking not! Let me leave, Jungkook!” you scream, your voice rising in a pitch that borders on desperation, though you refuse to let him see just how deep that desperation runs. You plant your feet, refusing to yield, the ground beneath you trembling with the intensity of your defiance.

His laughter rings out, cold and mocking, as if your resistance is something to be cherished, not feared. “You are home,” he repeats, the laughter still lingering on his lips like a twisted song. “Best you accept it.”

“No!” The word tears from your throat, a battle cry, as you snatch the nearest objects—ornate vases, delicate sculptures—and hurl them at him with all the strength your body can muster. They fly through the air with reckless force, but Jungkook’s reflexes are a cruel thing, too swift for your own good. He dodges them with an effortless grace, catching a few in his large hands, his laughter never faltering, only growing darker with every failed strike.

“Fucking asshole!” The words spill from your lips like the objects flying his way as you charge at him, wild and untamed, your small frame launching forward in a futile attempt to claw at him—to tear at his chest, his face, his eyes—any part of him you can reach in your blind rage. But it’s no use. His reflexes are sharper than your anger, and in a single, effortless motion, he captures you in his arms, his strength overwhelming you with ease as he holds you against his chest, his grip nevertheless careful, your limbs thrashing in vain against him.

He grins down at you, that same dangerous glint dancing in his eyes, his tail swaying in satisfaction. “There it is,” he murmurs, his voice low and amused. “Knew there was fight in you somewhere.”

“You’re sick,” you spit in his face, neck bend upwards, your voice laced with disgust, your body shaking with the effort to free yourself from his grasp, though every movement only serves to tighten his hold.

“Sick? Only when you’re not near me.” He chuckles, the sound reverberating through his chest into yours. “But I think it’s time you finally got out of this room, don’t you think?”

For a brief moment, hope flickers within you, a fragile thing, but it shatters almost immediately, splintering into jagged shards.

“You’re going to get dolled up,” Jungkook continues, his voice laced with an almost playful malice, “and you’re going to stand by my side, like you belong there. Understand?”

“Where are you taking me?” The question tumbles from your lips before you can stop it, though you already know the answer will not offer you any comfort.

He smiles, that dark and twisted thing that never quite reaches his eyes. “You’re mine. It’s time the world knows it.”

His words are a poison that not only tastes bitter in your throat but settles deep in your gut, twisting your insides with a repulsion so visceral it nearly makes you sick yourself. But you know you must play along—there’s no other choice. You need time, space to think, to plan, to escape, maybe use this opportunity right away.

As he leads you to the bathroom, his hand never leaving your waist, he hands you a box, its contents revealed to be a dress of the deepest black, the silk of it shimmering as if it holds the very night sky within its folds. The heels, impossibly tall and elegant, glint with the same ethereal quality.

“Twenty minutes,” he says, voice low and commanding as he brushes it against your temple. “Not a second more.”

And with that, he disappears, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the weight of the dress in your hands. It feels like something from another world, its silk as soft and black as your own fur, as if it’s been spun from darkness itself. When you slip it on, it moulds to your body as though it was made for you, each line and curve crafted with an almost haunting precision. You catch your reflection and it’s unnerving—you look powerful, ethereal even, a creature of shadow and elegance, yet it’s not the kind of power you want to feel. You paint your face with the same false obedience, styling your hair just as much, even as the fear of what might happen should you fail to escape gnaws at your bones.

When you step out, Jungkook stands waiting, phone to his ear, but the moment he sees you, he cuts the call without a word, his eyes darkening with something far more dangerous than desire. “My goddess,” he breathes, striding towards you with that same unrelenting confidence, his arm slipping around your waist as he buries his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent while your body recoils, revulsion too strong deep within you.

He keeps his grip strong as he leads you down to the underground garage, his hand possessive against your waist, his fingers biting into your flesh as he speaks in low, measured tones. “We’re heading to a meeting,” he explains, “and you’re going to stand by my side, silent and still. It’s not a game, kitten. It’s a trial, a test to see if you’re truly capable of being who I think you are. No running. No words. You keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, do you understand?”

You say nothing, your silence the only answer you’re willing to give as you approach his sports car. But Jungkook is not a man who accepts silence. He turns you towards him, his fingers gripping your jaw with a force that leaves no room, his eyes flashing with anger. “Do you understand, kitten?” he growls, the name dripping from his lips like a curse.

“Yes,” you growl back, the word forced through clenched teeth.

Jungkook’s grip loosens, his fingers trailing gently over the skin he has just bruised, his voice softening into something almost tender. “Good girl. Now be a darling and get in the car.”

He opens the passenger door for you with a sense of chivalry you didn’t expect from him, before rounding the car and sliding in behind the wheel. His dark eyes gleam in the shifting streetlights as he navigates the roads with ease, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the window ledge, his tattooed arm flexing with every corner he takes.

When you finally arrive, it’s not the seedy underworld you expect but an ordinary nightclub, at least on the surface. A valet opens your door as Jungkook steps out, tossing the keys carelessly into his hands before guiding you inside, his grip never once leaving your waist, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip from his grasp the moment he lets go.

But you don’t enter the club. Instead, you’re led down a narrow staircase to a dimly lit room where a poker table waits, surrounded by other predator hybrids, their eyes gleaming like hungry beings beneath the haze of smoke and the tang of alcohol, one chair conspicuously left empty, waiting for the king and his captive queen.

„Didn’t know you’d bring a to, Jaykay,“ the panther hybrid sneers, his voice dripping with mockery.

“Not a toy, Yoongi,” Jungkook remarks, though the usual venom in his voice is conspicuously absent, replaced instead by an unsettling glimmer of amusement that softens his otherwise brutal demeanour, a macabre joy lurking beneath the surface as if he revels in some private joke only they are privy to.

The python hybrid leans forward, his eyes gleaming with serpentine curiosity, tongue darting out as he mutters, “She your mate, then?” His voice, slow and sibilant, carries a weight of knowing far more than he lets on.

“No scent of him on her,” observes the bear hybrid sitting the closest with a low grunt, his tone laden with certainty, as if the absence of that primal mark renders everything clear and undisputed in his mind.

Jungkook’s laughter spills from his lips, a dark melody of possessiveness, as he slowly unfastens the buttons of his jacket and sinks into his seat, pulling you unceremoniously onto his lap. His fingers dig into your side, a casual but deliberate reminder of his control, his breath warm against your neck as he murmurs, “Not yet, but we’re getting there, aren’t we?” His grip tightens with every word, a thinly veiled threat masked as affection.

You are not permitted the luxury of speech in this twisted theatre, and even if you were, the oppressive weight of their gazes—five pairs of predatory eyes stripping you bare—leaves you frozen. A simple nod is all you manage, the tremor in your chest betraying the steady composure you desperately try to maintain.

“What’s your name?” Yoongi, the jaguar hybrid, asks with a drawl, his eyes too sharp, too intent, the curiosity in them unnerving.

Silence hangs heavy, your lips pressed together in defiance or obedience, but then Jungkook’s fingers dig into your flesh once more, not a painful gesture but a warning nonetheless. So you force the words past your lips, your voice sickly sweet, dripping with the obedience they all crave.

Satisfied, Jungkook introduces the others with a casual air, as though this grotesque gathering is nothing out of the ordinary. The python hybrid, the one with the slithering tongue, is Hoseok. The bear hybrid with the piercing gaze is Taehyung. Seokjin, an orca hybrid, watches you with an unsettling glint, while Namjoon, the lion hybrid, is the last to meet your eyes, his quiet intensity wrapping around him like a shroud. Their names carry a strange familiarity, as though they belong to men who live in worlds too dangerous for you, their wealth spilling carelessly across the poker table, every hand played with reckless abandon, their conversation laced with humour and hints of illicit dealings that linger just out of reach for your understanding.

You sit still, a mute observer, cataloguing their movements, their mannerisms, but most of all, you watch Jungkook as best as you can—the way he commands the space without effort, without hesitation, a king among beasts. His weaknesses, however, are elusive, hidden beneath layers of calm arrogance. Yet it’s Namjoon who eventually hands you his vulnerability wrapped in a careless taunt, his voice a low rumble as he speaks: “Why don’t you bet her, Jungkook? Spice things up a bit, yeah?”

The growl that reverberates through Jungkook’s chest is primal, a deep warning that vibrates through your very bones. Yet he remains composed, his fury tightly controlled, a stark contrast to the savage violence he once unleashed upon the crocodile hybrid without hesitation. “She’s mine. Not for bet,” he replies, the possessive claim woven through his words unmistakable.

“Let her choose,” Seokjin suggests, his voice like velvet, a smile playing on his lips but never quite reaching his eyes. “Don’t you want a way out, love? Any one of us would be more than willing to take you home, far away from this world you clearly don’t belong in.”

Your instincts scream warnings louder than any temptation his offer might hold. You feel it in the way Jungkook’s grip tightens around you, his muscles stiff, his senses flaring with something darker than mere possessiveness—something protective, as twisted as that may be. There’s no escape here, no safety in the arms of these men who gaze upon you with more hunger than mercy. The truth is bitter in your throat, but unavoidable.

“I’m Jungkook’s,” you say, the admission falling from your lips with the cold, hard finality of a sentence passed down from on high. It’s not what you desire, nor what you ever would have chosen, but it is the truth—the only truth left to you in this labyrinth of power and control.

Seokjin exhales with theatrical disappointment, his voice an exaggerated sigh of regret, “What a shame,” while the others laugh, the sound hollow and sharp like glass shattering in the air. Beneath you, Jungkook relaxes, his hold softening ever so slightly, his hand tracing idle circles across your abdomen as if to soothe the tension he’s caused, though the unease in his body remains like an invisible tether wrapped tight around you both.

The night concludes with a quiet resignation as Taehyung stands, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer than necessary before he speaks. “Nothing more to win tonight,” he declares, the others rising one by one, exchanging their goodbyes with that careless friendship shared only by those who live just outside the law.

They each take your hand in turn, brushing their lips across your knuckles in a grotesque parody of civility, their eyes never leaving yours. And with every kiss pressed against your skin, you feel Jungkook’s anger smouldering beneath the surface, simmering hotter with each unwanted touch.

When the room empties, when it’s just the two of you again, the atmosphere shifts drastically. His hand wraps around your arm, and in one quick motion, he spins you around to face him, his eyes dark and dangerous. Before you can react, he pushes you back against the table, lifting you effortlessly, stepping between your legs, his body a barrier to the only escape route, his presence overwhelming. One of your arms braces you against the table, the other futilely pressed against his chest in an attempt to push him away, to create space where none exists.

His hands travel up the length of your thigh, the fabric of your dress inching higher under his touch, his breath warm against your face as he leans closer, his voice low, a growl of dark amusement.

“Good girl,” if he could purr, he would, his lips ghosting against your ear. “Finally accepted that you’re mine, haven’t you?”

“Never,” you bite back, the defiance in your voice brittle as glass, your body trembling with a high-pitched growl that dares him to step back, to respect the boundaries you both know he will never acknowledge.

His grin is devilish, his eyes glittering with amusement. “Never say never, kitten,” he whispers, leaning closer until his lips hover just above yours, the mere breath between you both heavy with tension, a maddening dance of proximity without touch. The scent of him, pure dominance, floods your senses, the base instinct to submit warring with the ironclad resolve to resist, to defy.

When he finally pulls back, it’s not in retreat but in command, his hand gripping yours as he pulls you to your feet, forcing you to stand beside him. “Let’s go home,” he orders, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You speak, not because you expect anything to change, but because the words are a final act of rebellion, the last shred of control you can cling to, even if its just to annoy him. “My home?”

He doesn’t even glance your way, his voice steady and cold as it always is. “Our home.”

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a/n 2: hope you enjoyed it👀 lmk what you think in any way you like!

a/n 3: taglist is sadly closed

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lancermylove · 4 months

Text

Dark Side of Dating Him 2 (Scenarios)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Demons x gn!Reader

Warning: Detailed warnings before each scenario, but the scenarios are dark.

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: I would love to see the even darker / more situational stuff for the demons 😳 or at least some of the bros

A/N: If you get sad easily, proceed with caution. If you like to feel the burn, enjoy. 😂

Series: [1]

———————————————

Warning: Angst, manipulation.

Barbatos had constantly been by Diavolo's side for the past three weeks. Despite being married, he hadn't spent a single night with you. You watched him from afar, missing his presence, yet a strange sense of calm kept you from feeling truly upset. Why were you not sad that your husband wasn't spending time with you? Though you couldn't answer that question, a series of unsettling déjà vu moments had been haunting you.

Standing near the throne room window, you observed Barbatos and Diavolo's meeting. Your husband's expression was unreadable - a mask of perfect composure as he listened attentively. But something about his demeanor struck you as off. The light that usually danced in his eyes when he looked at you was absent, replaced by a cold, distant gaze that sent chills down your spine. You couldn't shake the feeling that the man you saw before you was different from the one you knew intimately.

Who was the real Barbatos? Was it the devoted husband who showered you with affection or the inscrutable butler standing in the throne room? The more you pondered this, the more uncomfortable you became. Moreover, Barbatos had the ability to alter timelines and outcomes. The déjà vu moments - were they a result of him changing past events to create a more favorable reality? Had he altered your shared moments, erasing any friction or discontent to maintain a perfect image of your relationship? Had your husband used those powers against you?

You wanted to trust him, to believe in the sincerity of his love and the authenticity of your marriage. But the longer you thought about it, the harder it became to fight the doubts. The thought that he might have been manipulating your reality filled you with a sense of betrayal and heartbreak. What had he altered? What had happened in the past? You knew you needed to confront him to clear the shadows that clouded your thoughts, but would he allow you to find out the truth? All he had to do was use his powers to find a new reality and make you forget everything except your love for him.

Warning: Angst, degrading, depression.

Being a human in the Devildom was never easy, especially as the future spouse of Prince Diavolo. The demons of Devildom scrutinized you relentlessly, picking apart your appearance, your humanity, and your weak strength. They mocked your way of dressing, which they deemed unfit for royalty. Every aspect of your body was criticized, and your manner of speaking and laughing was a constant source of ridicule. Even the smallest mistake was subjected to their harsh judgment.

One evening, feeling utterly defeated, you decided to confide in Diavolo. He was your rock, and you hoped he would understand the toll this relentless criticism was taking on you. However, when you told him about the demons' harsh words, he simply brushed it off. "Do not pay attention to them," he said with a dismissive wave. "Their opinions do not matter."

His response stung, but you tried to push through. As the day passed, Diavolo became busier, consumed by his princely duties. Whenever you wanted a moment to talk, he would hand you one of his tasks and ask for your assistance. It felt as though your relationship had shifted from intimate to professional and cold. Just when you thought it couldn't get worse, the council members proved you wrong.

You stood by Diavolo's side as the council members openly criticized you. Their words were like daggers targeting your already fragile self-esteem. You looked to Diavolo for support, hoping he would defend you, but he sat silently on his throne. His eyes held a distant gaze as if the criticisms directed at you didn't matter.

"Endure it," he had once told you. "You need to learn resilience if you wish to rule the Devildom with me."

His expectation for you to bear their harsh words in silence and patience felt like a betrayal. You realized that, to Diavolo, your value as his future spouse was linked to your ability to endure, not your happiness or well-being.

Warning: Angst.

Being Lucifer's significant other came with its own set of challenges. The responsibility of his younger brothers often fell on your shoulders. Whether it was cleaning up after their latest mishap, calming them down from their frequent outbursts, or dealing with the consequences of their chaotic antics, it was an endless cycle of stress and exhaustion.

One evening, after another taxing day of managing the chaos, you were at your breaking point. Seeking some solace, you approached Lucifer in the hope that he would understand and offer some support.

"Lucifer, today was just too much," you began, your voice tinged with weariness. "Dealing with your brothers and all their chaos is overwhelming. I feel like I'm about to break."

He paused in his tracks, his expression stern. The Avatar of Pride didn't say anything for a moment but then broke the silence in a cold vice. "Cease your complaints. You need to learn to be resilient. You are excessively sensitive."

Your heart sank at his dismissive tone. "But Lucifer, you don't understand how hard it is. I'm trying my best, but it's too much."

His eyes narrowed slightly, and a hint of impatience flashed in his crimson orbs. "You have developed a propensity for complaining and relying on me for every issue. You must learn to handle matters independently."

The words cut deep, and you felt a lump in your throat. "Why can't you just understand how I'm feeling?"

Lucifer sighed in irritation. "You need to be mature and learn to manage your own affairs. I cannot resolve your matters for you."

As if the conversation wasn't already painful enough, he glanced at your disheveled appearance. "And attend to your appearance. You look unkempt."

With that, he entered his bedroom and closed the door as if he didn't want you to follow him inside. The weight of his words pressed heavily on you, amplifying your already overwhelming stress. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to process what had happened. You had hoped for comfort and understanding from the one person who meant the most to you, but instead, you were met with criticism and dismissal.

Warning: Angst.

The memory of the two witches in the human realm haunted you. Their threatening presence, the malevolent glint in their eyes, and mocking laughter had reduced you to tears. They called you pathetic, and in that moment, you felt utterly powerless. Mammon owned them money, but the witches targeted you instead since they couldn't get to him. When you finally returned to the Devildom, you immediately sought the comfort of your most treasured possession—your grandmother's necklace.

But as you searched through your belongings, panic set in. The necklace was nowhere to be found. Frantic, you rushed to Mammon's room, hoping he might have seen it. "Mammon, have you seen my grandmother's necklace?"

He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding your gaze. "Uh, 'bout that..."

Your pulse quickened as you studied his expression. "Mammon, where is it?"

He hesitated before finally coming clean, "I sold it. I needed the money."

"You what?" you shouted, disbelief and anger flooding you. "That necklace is irreplaceable! It was my grandmother's! How could you do this to me?"

Mammon looked defensive and quickly raised his hands. "It's just a necklace, y'know. I didn't think it was that big of a deal!"

Your anger flared more at his dismissive words. "Just a necklace? It meant everything to me! How could you be so thoughtless?"

Instead of offering comfort or an apology, Mammon stepped back, his face a mask of guilt and fear. Then, without another word, he turned and ran. You sank to the floor, tears streaming down your face. The betrayal cut deep, and the loss of your grandmother's necklace felt like a piece of your heart had been ripped away. Mammon's actions and his cowardly retreat further added to your pain and made you feel abandoned. You had trusted him, believed in him, and he had shattered that trust for something as fleeting as money.

Warning: Yandere-like behavior.

The celebration was in full swing, and everyone was ecstatic about your recent achievement. But in the corner, Levi stood apart, his expression distant and melancholy. It wasn't that he wasn't happy for you — Levi truly was — but the pang of jealousy and self-doubt gnawed at him. Why couldn't he achieve something worth celebrating? Why did he always feel like a useless demon?

Over the next few days, he avoided you, refusing to even meet your eyes or speak to you. He wouldn't even allow you to enter his room or answer your calls or texts. When he finally talked to you, his voice was filled with desperation and vulnerability. "Do you love me?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for reassurance.

"Of course, Levi," you replied without hesitation, but you didn't fully understand why he was asking you this question.

Following that conversation, Levi's behavior changed drastically. He became increasingly possessive and would not let you talk to anyone else, not even his brothers. His jealousy flared and led to arguments if he saw you talking with them. You tried to understand and accommodate his feelings, but his possessiveness became suffocating.

The more you pushed for space and independence, the more Levi spiraled into darkness. He clung to you with an obsessive intensity, convinced you were his and only his. The fear of losing you consumed him, driving him to extreme measures to keep you close. You were at your wit's end.

"Levi, you can't keep doing this! You can't control who I talk to. This isn't healthy for either of us."

His eyes darkened with a mix of hurt and anger. "You're mine, (y/n). I won't let anyone take you from me. If I can't have you, no one else can."

His chilling words sent a shiver down your spine. The Levi you once knew was nowhere in sight and was replaced by someone consumed by possessiveness and insecurity.

Warning: Angst, Violence.

The memory of the chair flying towards you was still fresh in your mind, just another reminder of Satan's uncontrollable rage. Though Satan had done it accidentally, the thought of the chair hitting you at high speed made you shiver. Lucifer had been furious when he found out and dragged Satan into his office for a severe lecture and punishment.

Later that day, your boyfriend appeared at your door, his expression calm. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to throw the chair at you. It was an accident."

You nodded, accepting his apology. "It's okay, Satan. Just try to control your anger next time."

The second he heard your words, he sighed in relief. However, Satan's expression darkened the next moment, and he began to badmouth Lucifer. "That pompous tyrant doesn't understand anything. Always lecturing, always punishing. He's the worst!"

"Lucifer isn't wrong, Satan. You can't just lose control like that. It's dangerous," you sighed.

His eyes flashed with anger at your words. "So you're taking his side now?" he spat, his voice rising. "You think he's right and I'm wrong?"

You stood your ground and firmly nodded. "Yes, Satan, you were in the wrong. What you did was dangerous."

That was all it took. Satan's anger erupted, and in an instant, he transformed into his demon form. His eyes glowed with fury as he grabbed you and slammed you against the wall, his grip so tight you thought your bones would shatter. Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to breathe, and the pain got overwhelming.

"Satan, please stop," you begged, your voice trembling. "You're hurting me."

But your pleas fell on deaf ears as his blind rage had completely consumed him. The pressure intensified, and you cried out in pain, feeling helpless and terrified. Fortunately for you, Beel stormed into the room. "Satan, let go of (y/n)!"

With a great effort, Beel managed to restrain Satan and pull him away from you. The two brothers struggled, their powerful forms clashing, but Beel finally managed to drag Satan out of the room. The noise and chaos terrified you, but all you could do was curl up in the corner, sobbing uncontrollably. You had always known about his temper, but this was the first time it had been directed at you so violently. Did this mean that if he got angry enough, he could take your life?

Warning: Angst, cheating, suggestive, depression.

You had always known that Asmo was a flirt. His charm and compliments were part of his nature, and you had tried your best to brush it off. After all, he was a friendly demon who loved to make others feel special. But for the past few weeks, you had noticed him disappearing at night, and a sinking feeling began to settle in your chest. You tried to deny it, convincing yourself that it was harmless fun. Yet, deep down, you knew what he was doing.

One day, you returned to the House of Lamentation earlier than planned. Without knocking, you entered his bedroom, and your heart stopped at the sight. Asmo was in bed with two other demons, and none of them had anything on. Your boyfriend lay in the middle, his arms wrapped around their perfect bodies. When his eyes met yours, he gave a playful smile without a hint of shame on his flushed face.

"(Y/n)," he said in a seductive voice. "Why don't you join us? The more the merrier!"

The reality of the situation hit you like a punch to the gut. The "Avatar of Lust" wasn't just a title - it was the bitter truth. Your heart shattered, and you fled from the room, tears blurring your vision. That incident plunged you into a deep depression. The pain and betrayal you felt were overwhelming, and you found it impossible to care about anything, least of all yourself. You stopped your self-care routines and paid no attention to your appearance. The vibrant person you once were faded into a shadow.

At first, Asmo tried to comfort you. He brought you small gifts and tried to cheer you up with his usual charm, but every attempt he made only led to arguments. You were too hurt to accept his gestures, and he was too proud to understand the depth of your pain. Eventually, the strain became too much. One day, after another argument, Asmo looked at you with a coldness that sent chills down your spine.

"You know, (y/n)," he said, his voice devoid of the warmth it once held, "You've let yourself go. I'm not attracted to you anymore."

The severity of his tone left no room for doubt - Asmo was breaking up with you. The man who had once made you feel like the most beautiful person in the world was now telling you that you were no longer worth his time. You stood there, numb, as he walked away. The realization settled heavily within you: Asmo had never truly seen you. To him, you were just another conquest, another fleeting pleasure.

Warning: Angst.

You checked your wallet and sighed. Feeding Beel and keeping him happy had drained every cent from your wallet. It felt like the only reason you earned money was to feed your boyfriend's unsatiable appetite. As you slumped on Beel's bed, you heard Belphie enter the room with a loud yawn.

"What's wrong?" He sleepily asked.

"I'm broke," you whispered. "I spent all my money on food for Beel."

Belphie scoffed and plopped on his bed. “You should have been prepared. The House of Lamentation is broke most of the time because of Beel’s appetite. But you do know that he can’t control himself, right?”

Frustration bubbled up inside you, and you snapped at him. “Then why don’t you use your money to feed your twin?”

Your words started an argument; your voices echoed through the halls, but you were too caught up in the heat of the moment to notice Beel entering the bedroom.

"What's going on?" Beel asked, worried.

Belphie wasted no time and replied, "(Y/n) was complaining about how they were broke because of your need to eat. They want me to use my money to feed you, so they don't need to feed you anymore."

The older twin's eyes were saddened as he glanced at you. "Is that true, (y/n)?"

You wanted to explain yourself clearly, but your words came out jumbled and defensive. “I just...I didn’t mean it like that, Beel. It’s just been hard...”

Belphie cut in, his voice mocking. “See, Beel? They can’t handle it. Maybe they’re not worth your time.”

“Shut up, Belphie!” you snapped.

For a moment, Beel's eyes widened in shock, but the next, they hardened. "Don't talk to him like that again, (y/n). Leave!"

The weight of his words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Beel, please, I didn’t mean-”

“Just go,” Beel interrupted, his voice breaking slightly.

Belphie smirked in satisfaction. "You heard him. You're not worth his time, and he deserves better."

Tears blurred your vision as you turned and fled to your bedroom, your heart heavy with regret and confusion. You collapsed onto your bed, the tears flowing freely now. The pain of the breakup and the argument weighed heavily on you, and you cried yourself to sleep.

Warning: Angst, spoiler from OG.

You sat on the edge of the bed, pouring your heart out to Belphie. Your voice cracked with each word as you recounted the emotional turmoil you had recently in the past. It was something deeply personal that you had never shared with anyone else. When you finally turned your head to look at him with tear-filled eyes, hoping he would understand, you saw him fast asleep. Frustration boiled inside you. How could he fall asleep when you were sharing something so important? Tears rolled down your cheeks as you shook his shoulder, but he remained oblivious, lost in his dreams.

The following week was supposed to be special—a date you had planned with Belphie for your first anniversary. You had looked forward to it all week, imagining how wonderful it would be to spend time with him. But the hours passed, and the meeting time came and went. Belphie didn't answer your message or pick up your calls.

Somewhere in your heart, you worried something had happened to him, but your mind already knew why. A quick check of his room confirmed your worst fears: he was still asleep. The carefully planned date ended in disappointment, leaving you feeling neglected and unimportant. Later, when he finally woke up, he muttered a half-hearted apology for missing the date. His words lacked sincerity, and he clearly didn’t understand how much it meant to you.

A few weeks later, you found yourself in front of an enraged demon who hated that a human was in Devildom - a hater of Diavolo. Panic surged through your veins as you fled and desperately dialed your boyfriend's number. The phone rang endlessly, but he never picked up. Your heart pounded in your chest, fear gripping you tighter with each passing second. With no other options, you called the older brothers.

They arrived in time to help you before the demon could hurt you more or kill you. Exhausted and shaken, you returned to the House of Lamentation, your body aching from the ordeal. You headed straight to Belphie's room, your emotions a tumultuous mix of fear, anger, and betrayal. As expected, he lay in bed, barely awake. Even after he noticed your tear-streaked face, disheveled hair, and minor cuts on your skin, he remained lying down.

"What's wrong?" he asked calmly, his voice lacking genuine concern.

That was the final note. Your emotions broke, and you yelled at him in a cracking voice. "I almost died today because you wouldn't answer your phone! I was in danger, and you were just sleeping!"

"Sorry."

A weak apology was all he could offer, and the next instant, his eyes shut again. He was asleep once more. You stood there, stunned and heartbroken, staring at his sleeping form. Did he not care that you had nearly died? The memory of your past death at his hands flashed before your eyes, reminding you of the cruel reality. What else were you expecting from someone who had once killed you? The weight of your disillusionment settled heavily in your heart as you turned away, feeling more alone than ever before.

———————————————

➣ Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2][3] ➣ Main Masterlist

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bellastay99 · 8 months

Text

STRAY KIDS: HOW WOULD THEY...

(fem!Reader x SKZ)

Dealing with you scared even to go outside after JYP release the note confirming the relationship with him...

(Is quite big, I write a lot...)

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Hyung Line

JYP ENTERTAINMENT CONFIRMS RUMORS OF DATING!

This last two months, Dispatch released a photo of an idol having regular dates with a unknown woman. Fans confirms that is a member of the group STRAY KIDS and they made up theories that she may be dating him for at least a year, she appeared in photos at the airport, waiting rooms at events, performance events and etc. Some others, said that she may be only a staff, but most of the fans confirms that no, a staff wouldn't go out in romantic date with the idol. Look at some knetizens positive comments:

"He's lucky...she's also lucky"

"People still thinking she's a staff? They're holding hands"

"At least she's pretty"

"I actually said hi to her once...I tought it was a staff, but she's super sweet!"

"SHE'S NOT A STAFF?!"

"Oh! My baby is growing up!"

After the rumors, JYP immediately responded to the case confirming the dating between a member of Stray Kids and this girl, who the name wasn't reveled:

"Hello, this is JYP Entertainment,

This note is a response to the dating rumors that is being on internet in those last two months.

We confirmed that, a stray kids member is officially dating a woman (non public person) for at least two years. The couple didn't want their private life exposed to soon, so we agreed to wait for the right moment.

We're very happy for them! We all wish good energies and lucky to the couple, this person has been helping the entertainment and the group in the last years. We trust our members, we trust the ones who follow and love them, so please, send happy messages! :)"

Of course that the attacks would be large, but worse then we expected. Threats, locations being exposed, dangerous mailboxes and photos of lethal weapons being posted on Twitter with the hashtag: #ComingForYou, has being alerting the fandom, the JYP Entertainment and the Stray Kids group that has already showed their disappointment toward the fans behave.

After the threats started, according to the fans, the group member hasn't being posting photos as usual and his bubble message to "try me first".

Stays are in shock and trying to help banning hate users and warning the police, but also, relived that no one knows the girl's identity, that way, she can stay more safe.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

BANGCHAN

Not happy....at all.

I mean, he's happier and more chilled after starting dating you

His sleeping is much better

He still working his ass off, but...well, he's a workaholic and you understands him

That's one of the reasons he loves and protects you so much

You know Chan from Australia, a year before he went to South Korea to be a trainee.

From all that time, both changed messages

And soon, you'll be also moving to Korea

Why?

Cause you loved him

And he send it to you a voice message confessing his love before a show

Yes, he got the adrenaline and confessed.

You immediately got your saved money and moved to Korea

You couldn't handle one more year without him.

You lived in a family house

Bangchan paid your collegue

You got a work inside of JYP administration area

Thanks to him

Bangchan PAID a apartment for you

Cause he really wants you to stay

Then...soon, very soon, both were dating

He talked to the CEO and yes, he accepted, cause he knew both of you

He never had being so happy after Stray Kids formation

The boys loves you

They protect you

They help you two hide your secrets

Bangchan is a little jealous, cause they're very touchy with you and treats you like a little sister

Well, they love you!

About the threats...

Oooh man...ooohohoho! He got so pissed off!

And you know how pissed off he's when he's pissed off!

We all can imagine!

How would he deal?

Make a song...for sure. Unreleased, but he made it.

Talk about that at lives, very mad. Not happy at all.

And the most...scary one...

Delete his bubble photo...

And send a message like: "Very disappointed..."

The boys would have to chill him sometimes

He abandoned internet for days because of the threats, also for him, but...specially about you.

You're afraid to go out...

He would make sure to where his armour and sword to protect you

On live...he would also "threat the threatners"

Bangchan: Also, before end the live...I wanted to say that, I'll go see the Wonka movie soon...and yes, she will be coming with me and she will be protected by me and bodyguards, and JYP and myself, the boys, will be dealing the threats with the best way possible: Law Suit. So, we already have a team for that and she got bodyguards everywhere. I had to convince my boss to protect and prove to him how bad it was. I'm done, she's done...Stray kids and JYP are done with this...bullshit, sorry the word, but this is all bullshit, is coward, is childish, dangerous and a criminal. If you're a criminal, you're not a Stay. If you're a murderer, you're not close to be a Stay. Not even close to be human. So...with this message, I say goodbye, sorry, no hugs today...I love you Stays, you know that...but, I'm fighting against this too, we're not in the best mood. Stays! The real ones! *smiles* She love you guys so so so soooooo much! She said that will thank you guys soon as possible! And I'm so grateful too! Love you guys so much...so much. I love so much at a point I want to marry her one day, and...have a family *laughs* . You guys are our guardians... our guard angels! *giggles* See you guys soon! Bye bye~

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

MINHO

He's angry, of course...very angry

But he's terrified as well

He was waiting for the hates

But not in that intensity

Fans can record him looking around all the time

He can barely focus on what's going on

The boys have to always call his attention

In the first week of threats

Minho let you stay at his mother's house

Cause he was so afraid...but so scared to lose you

By someone crazy enough to put their dirty hands on you

Do and say evil things to you

He couldn't handle that

Again... He was terrified

He would never give up on his girl

After years he finally got the chance to confess to you and talk to the CEO

That he fell deeply in love with his only girl friend...best friend

You used to be a colleague of him at the dance academy on his pre debut era

He fell in love very fast

And when he realized that they were debuting

He promised himself to write for you everyday

To not, never, lose contact

A man of word

You end up being friends with the whole Stray Kids

You're his princess, his treasure, shelter, everything

You're the only person that Minho can call: Mine

And he's jealous and protective

So... For that situation, he became a little paranoid

He let you stay in his mother's house and his dorm

Never your house, cause the crazy people were exposing location wherever you go

You're also terrified (of course) and he doesn't show what he's truly feeling about the situation

So he's always trying to calm you down and not letting you see the internet

Everyday he's ending up saying that he'll protect you and everything will be ok

And a kiss on your forehead

He would probably try to express himself on bubble app

First taking off his photo

And change the bio to: Over my dead body

And send a message in the first week, terrified

BUBBLE MESSAGES:

-Hi

-Is cute Lino here

-Of course it is me

-And I'm scared...

-I'm terrified...

-For her life...

-You guys are scaring me too

-A lot

-This is how you crazies show love?

-I don't want that...

-I really don't

-I will make a law suit for this, soon as possible

-I'm disappointed

-Afraid

-And disgusted

-Leave her alone...leave us alone

-If you're attacking her, you're attacking me!

-So I'll attack back...wait for your consequences

-JYP will soon release a note about this with a law suit

-For the innocent stays that had to read this, I'm sorry, I see you guys helping us😻

-Thank you so much, we love you and you guys deserve the world❤️

-I normally don't express myself like that, but for that situation...I'm really, really thankful...

-Rest well and SKZ love you❤️

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

CHANGBIN

You have a personal body guard

He's worried to death

Unfortunately, outside, he's not trusting no one...

He let you walk only in front of him

Not even by his side

Ready to fight 24/7

Won't make you go out by force, would wait the right moment

Probably would definitely let you stay at their dorm

If he's out for work, he would, or take you with him or spam messages asking if it is all alright with you alone

You would have to calm him down sometimes

If he sees something about you (a bad comment) anywhere, he would get very, very stressed out for the rest of his day

He wouldn't be afraid to talk in public about that

He would get so stressed out that maybe would start a discussion

He would be confused by how people could do things like that to you

He is not fighting with you, he's just...trying to understand why

And not understanding a situation, makes him mad

His voice is raised, he can't stop moving around, his breath is out of control

Then...starts to cry, looking at you with desperate eyes

Scared, confused, angry...mixed feelings

You know, he's trying his best too

He probably would be so done with this...

But would never give up

Changbin breaks down in tears at the fanmeeting...

On the last fanmeeting of Stray Kids, Changbin couldn't hold back his tears of fear anymore. Apparently, a "fan" screamed out many times asking for his girlfriend's location, asking if she was there. Changbin and the boys seemed to ignore her for the past 20 minutes, but Minho stepped forward to confront and protect his two friends. Changbin can be seen walking behind the curtain and kneeling starting to cry, Chan walks to him to give him support, and only a heartbroken question could be heard far away from the mic:

"Why are they doing this with us?!"

Stays felt the pain in Changbin's voice and everybody started to cheer for him saying that it will be alright soon, and of course.. Stays couldn't hold back the tears.

A video has been posted right at the exact moment of the girl screaming at the boys, but the user soon deleted it to respect Changbin privacy

Stays at the fanmeeting, said that the girl screaming was indeed a user of the hashtag #ComingForYou and she seemed out of her normal. She was banished from the place and some other Stays confront her outside the place before the securities take them back inside.

We all hope Changbin and especially his girlfriend are well... We wish them the best and good energies!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

HYUNJIN

He's tired of injustice...

Him itself has tasted

Hide yourself because of bad people? Is it worth it?

Open more space for them to act like maniacs?

He won't hide you...

He'll show them that he loves and will protect you at all costs

He'll be at the coffee shop with you, none of you guys with masks, glasses or hats

No hiding...

No pretending that's ok

He'll post photos with you much more often

Post videos of you on the shorts of Instagram

Paint pictures of you

He'll prove to everybody that he won't give up

More hates? More reason to stay with you

He's not happy with those "Stays"

He doesn't let the paparazzi take too many photos of you

He would nicely ask to step back and put down the cameras

And if they don't hear me, he would get mad and walk away with you far away

He is a good man, golden heart and very gently

But don't mess with him

Don't make him angry... Don't provoke him

He will be taking legal actions if somebody cross the line

He will protect, he will prove his love to you and throw in their faces

He will not give up

The bubble bio is changed to: Try me first...

He is a gentleman and a warrior for his love

He'll throw his love for you on the haters faces...

"I've been feeling chased, my life is in dangerous together with my girlfriend. My feelings are mixed, angry and sad, disappointed. I'll handle that with her, we'll stay together until the end.

I really hope that changes... I'm disappointed with all of you that call yourself Stays while doing that..."

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Continue in part 2 - Maknae line

#stray kids #stray kids icons #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #stray kids reactions #stray kids lee know #stray kids imagines #stray kids changbin #stray kids felix #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids bang chan #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x you #s

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alwayscorvus · 4 months

Text

"Morning hun" - Mortefi short

malereader x Mortefi, fluff; warning! 18+/21+ topics hinted;

Just a quick short about daily life with Mortefi. He can be completely out of character. Because premiere is on Wednesday. And I'm just so excited that I want to write something about wuwa. But at the same time I don't want any spoilers sooo…. this is a results of reading 3 sentences from official website and looking at his appearance.

There he was. Sitting on a bed leaning against the headboard. He was wearing a loose white shirt. Unbuttoned, with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Your shirt.

The one you had worn during yesterday's official event, from which you and Mortefi had left earlier than you should.

Man must have been troubled by a morning chill.

Mortefi's red hairs, were slightly messy. On top of his nose, you could see a reading glasses. With thin frames, typical for any scientist. He furrowed his eyebrows gently. With focused gaze he stared urgently at the screen of a laptop on top of his lap. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of a thing that was occupying man's attention at such an early hour. You managed to spot a document of some sort and a few open windows with research that you couldn't really understand. However, bright screen hurt your still sleepy eyes enough for you to quickly return to looking at you partner.

If you could even call him that.

You shifted slightly on his bed. Careful not to let go of your lying position.

You approached Mortefi and kissed him gently on his exposed forearm. His skin was pleasantly warm.

-Morning hun -you greeted in a husky voice to which he only nodded.

That was exactly your problem. Or rather, yours only. Officially, your relationship was titled as "friends with benefits". Or at least that's how it all started.

Mortefi, born in an upper class, couldn't initiante "inappropriate" contacts with anyone other than his future spouse. And even after abandoning family obligations, as a great genius and scientific research, he had neither a time nor desire for such things.

Years later, however, he began to lose concentration and felt frustrated. His scores dropped. And that silly friend of his, gave him an idea of finding another type of "friend". And in fact, Mortefi just agreed to this.

Two of you were never particularly close. But Mortefi felt a sense of trust in you. You gave off a strange kind of aura that implied that you were a proper one for this “task.” And it's not that Mortefi even liked guys. He just wasn't looking for an emotional experience, but rather a quick and stress-relieving one. And the first person that came to his mind was you. You were sort of larger than the rest, bulkier, taller. It gave an illusion of responsibility and protectiveness. After all, Mortefi couldn't give himself into an arms of just anyone. And at the same time he didn't want to play a role where he had to do all the work. He had enough duties on his mind.

Despite this, you acted almost like a couple. Your meetings didn't end only after finalizing one activity, you spent more time with each other. You addressed each other with cliche nicknames. You took care of each other. You made favors for each other. And you attended almost all important meetings together. Even though you majored in two different fields.

Mortefi, however, was probably not ready to give you both a second label. Or he didn't even think about it at all. Anyway, why would he? You were his. He was yours. He took it for granted.

You planned to change that in the future, but you still had plenty of time to do so.

You reached out your free hand (the one not crushed under your head) and placed it gently on man's chest. Slowly making your way down to red crystalline peeking out from under a white, sloppily wrapped bandages. Petite, pretty, like little feathers. Or almost petals like. They always fascinated you and puzzled. But you never had a courage to ask. You weren't afraid of his reaction. You just didn't want to pry into his private matters.

You carefully touched a gorgeous crystalline. After a longer contact, they seemed sharp and began to burn. However, it wasn't unpleasant. You remembered that from previous occasions.

You liked it. Like everything about Mortefi.

However, you moved your hand away, because although man didn't say anything. His face began to dangerously match a color of his hair.

-Mortefi

Man hummed at your call, giving a sign that he is listening.

-Are you up for breakfast?

Mortefi nodded vigorously and began tapping with his fingers faster on a keyboard. As if he had found some new solution to his problem.

-Something specific?

-Coffee - he replied casually, to which you snorted.

-Coffee is not a breakfast

Right corner of his mouth gently lifted up.

-I'll eat whatever you eat

You pushed yourself off the mattress with both hands, moving to a sitting position. Out of a corner of his eye, Mortefi glanced at your flexing muscles. Exactly the same like when you do push-ups.

But he didn't let it show and kept on working.

-I better do something good

With a smile, you kissed him briefly on the lips and headed to the bathroom.

#fanfic #fanfiction #scenarios #tmr #x reader #x male reader #wuthering waves #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves x male reader #x top male reader #wuthering waves imagines #mortefi #mortefi x male reader #mortefi x reader #mortefi wuthering waves #top male reader #male reader #mxm

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moamidzyism · 7 months

Text

tipsy (c.yj)

☆。.:*·ﾟwc 829 fluff + suggestive ౨ৎ // repost ୨୧ bf!yeonjun x fem!reader, established relationship, drunken making out, public display of affection, mention of alcohol [masterlist • reblogs + feedback appreciated]

event masterlist

going out with you was always interesting for yeonjun, it didn’t happen often, but when it did, he was always astounded by how you so effortlessly transformed into the life of the party when you were with your friends.

positioned in his section of the club, he watched as your best friend beelined her way to you with another two shots in her hand. you took the one from her, downing it with ease, seemingly unaffected by its potency. casting the plastic shot glass aside, you continued to sway your hips carelessly to the rhythm of the song that was currently playing, an alluring grace radiating in the way you moved.

yeonjun, nursing his second drink of the night, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of possessiveness as he eyed the other men attempting to get close to you on the dance floor, trying to grind up against you. however, he knew you well enough to understand that you were always firm in turning down their advances, gracefully slipping away from their unwelcome grips on your waist, giggling with your friends.

if it was any other person, they might feel jealous in situations like these, but yeonjun found comfort in the knowledge that you were his, and that made all the difference.

and that fact was reconfirmed for him when he catches your eye. you wave at him from the middle of the dance floor, having just distanced yourself from another persistent and incredibly desperate guy. he returns your gesture with a subtle smile, and in response, you whisper something into your friend’s ear. your friend grins mischievously and nudges you in your boyfriend’s direction.

with a slight blush on your cheeks, you navigate the dance floor until you reach yeonjun’s section. taking refuge on his lap, your arms wrap around his neck for support. the faint scent of your perfume intoxicates him further as he tightens his embrace, providing you with extra support.

“hi,”

“hello to you too,” your boyfriend replies, leaning closer to you, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your exposed skin.

“i see you’ve been keeping an eye on me.” you tease.

“couldn’t help it.” he confesses with a soft chuckle. “have you seen yourself? you’re too beautiful.” he kisses you softly. “literally every guy in this club wants you.”

“don’t want you to be mad, junie.” you say against his lips.

he pulls away from you, a confused expression plastered on his face. “why would i be mad at you?”

“because those guys wanted to dance with me.” you shyly respond.

“but look where you are now?” his lips trail along your jawline. “why would i be mad at you?”

“just making sure.” you close your eyes and rest your head on his shoulder for a moment, relishing the sensation of being close to him.

“did you want to leave?” you ask after a while.

“do you want to leave?” he counters, he fingers gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“no, but you look bored.” you admit, a hint of concern in your voice.

“but you’re having so much fun with your friends.”

“i think i might have more fun with you at home.”

“hmm?” he hums, a knowing smile spreading across his lips.

“yeah.”

you say goodbye to your friends, who give you encouraging smiles, while yeonjun calls a taxi. you walk outside hand in hand. the cold air sends chills down your spine, but yeonjun quickly pulls you towards him to warm you up.

once you two are situated in the cab, you can’t keep your hands off him. you’re practically sitting on his lap as you sloppily press open mouthed kisses on his face, letting your tongue explore every inch of his jawline, moving down to his neck.

“baby, behave.” he gasps when he feels you fumbling with the zipper of his pants. he makes eye contact with the older cab driver through the rear view mirror and quickly swats your hands away.

“i want you so bad,” you whine, not caring for the other person in the car with you, who was trying hard to keep his eyes on the road.

“i know, but if you behave when we get home…” his voice trailed off, but you knew what he was implying.

“that’s not fair.” you pouted.

“we’ll be home in no time.” he tried to convince you, and he ended up being right. you leaned against his chest and closed your eyes, and after what felt like five minutes, the car stopped outside your building. you opened your eyes to see yeonjun pulling his wallet out of his pocket to pay the driver.

you exit the car, clinging onto yeonjun’s arm as you follow him up to your apartment. before he could even open the door fully, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. “baby, slow down.” he chuckled.

“you said once we get home.” you mumble between kisses. “we’re home.”

taglist: @boba-beom @atinyniki @dearlyjun @wiisoob @isabellah29 @royallyjjk

fill out this form to join my taglist!

#fay's works #fayjjuni birthweek bonanza #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x reader #txt smut #txt x reader #yeonjun #choi yeonjun #choi yeonjun smut #<event>

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loupy-mongoose · 7 months

Text

Warning: This part contains topics of death and grief.

In-universe it is early November.

~~~~~~

Randy shivered against a sharp, cold breeze. He propped up his turtleneck.

Ready to go inside? Mr. Fuji's brow raised in questioning.

Randy nodded. Yeah.

The two men had been taking pleasant walk and chatting, Randy getting to know some of the residents of Mr. Fuji's care. He found the Alolan Rattata particularly fascinating--It was the first time he could really stop and notice how different a Dark type felt from other types. It was a bizarre effect. Almost like there was a mist of... nothingness, keeping him from feeling it's mind.

But now the wind was starting to pick up, and his sweater wasn't quite pulling its weight. He was beginning to find himself missing the relative warmth of Paldea.

As they approached Mr. Fuji's house, a small tune suddenly began playing, causing Fuji to turn, startled, toward Randy. After a moment, Randy realized what it was and pulled his phone from his pocket.

...I need to take this.

...

He sighed, and answered the call. Now by himself outside, he gave a nervous smile to the recipient who couldn't see him. Hey.

The voice on the other end was as warm, loving, and soothing as ever, but still filled Randy with the dread of knowing what was coming.

Hey. I got your message. Is now a good time?

The man's eyebrows lowered anxiously. Straight to the point, huh, Mom...

You said it was important.

Yeah.... I did...

I'm just... Not too excited to say it...

Viviana's voice took on a new alertness. What? Are you okay??

Randy fidgeted with his unoccupied hand, winding some hair around his fingers. I'm fine now...

But...

He sighed again.

This was it.

Mom...

I....

I had a heart attack.

He heard a sharp draw of breath over the phone.

He knew this wasn't something his mother would like to hear, but she had to know.

He went on.

A bad one.

My...

My heart stopped beating.

His mom stayed silent.

It was an... unusually stressful situation...

Akoya managed to resuscitate me, and I got the help I needed... I'm doing well now.

He listened for a response. But she said nothing.

...

Mom?

Mm!

Her voice broke, and she sounded as if a trance had been broken.

Sorry... I'm... processing...

Randy tugged at the neck of his sweater. Yeah.... I understand...

They both went quiet.

Oh, Randy...

Her voice was filled with emotion.

I wish I could give you a hug right now...

Yeah... He looked down at the grass blowing in the cold breeze, once more shivering. I do too... I'm sorry, I just thought it would be better for you to know sooner, rather than wait for our next visit.

Oh, no, no! I'm glad you told me! It's just a lot to take in. I'm sure it has been for you all, too.

...

How's Akoya?

Randy felt a pang for his wife.

He saw the lines that had appeared under her eyes.

He knew she had been having trouble sleeping since the event.

He noticed that she always matched her form to his.

He knew that she kept secret fears to herself.

Secret fears that it would happen again.

That she would need to sync their heartbeats again.

Randy...

He snapped his attention back to his mom.

Don't...

Don't forget...

What it's like to be on the other end...

A memory sprang into his minds eye, giving him a chill unlike what the weather could.

Okay?

His father.

Lying on the ground.

His mom over the lifeless form, fruitlessly struggling to revive him against all hope.

The sound of the operator on the other end of the phone, their words blurred out of his memory with age.

His own helpless panic.

Yeah...

Warm tears burned his eye.

I remember...

Mom...

I love you.

So much.

He heard her sniff and take a shaky breath.

I love you too, Son.

Come visit soon, okay?

Randy wiped his eyes.

Yeah.

Sounds good.

~~~~~~

I know this is a heavy topic, and I apologize if any part of it is misrepresentative. It's not a conversation type I've ever had to experience, but it's something I felt needed to be part of the story.

#Linden Roots #writing #tw: death #full

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pomefioredove · 1 month

Text

Noble Bell ; Book One, Part I ; The King of Truands

what if you were sent to Noble Bell College instead?

type of post: series characters: rollo, original characters (pierrot, bou, phoenix) additional info: reader is gender neutral, this is mostly my own vision, influenced by Disney's Hunchback, the 1939 movie, and the original novel

prologue | the king of truands, one | the king of truands, two |

Chapter One

That night, while you slept on uncomfortable bed of straw and mildewed wood, a council was held.

It is important to note that, for all its rules, and there were many, the body of staff of the proud Noble Bell College were rather removed from the common life. Outside the realm of the lecture hall and the office, the scholars were governed by a democratic and elected student council, that which organized the events, kept order, and administered discipline, when necessary.

The council was entirely egalitarian, but there are three key members: The Justice of the Peace, now sitting at the right hand of the stand, looking rather bored, The Vice President, M. Bou de Neige, whom we have already met, and The President, who is unusually absent on this chilled evening.

These three people are responsible for an entire body of students. They are looked up to, not only as scholars, but as diplomats, peacekeepers, and leaders. They are expected to keep the students best interests close to heart, to be the bridge between the scholar and the staff, and this is no easy burden, despite most of the council being no older than sixteen years of age.

You must understand, then, the significance of tonight's council.

Gathered around the dark hall, illuminated by the fire burning at one end of the long room, scholars and staff alike exchange whispers, glances, and moods.

"As far as I'm aware, they're still on school grounds," the Justice of the Peace scratches his head with his quill, and a spurt of black ink stains his light brown hair. "One of my men saw them going with Gregoire to La Tombe."

Bou de Neige, who had, up until this point, been rather quiet, grimaces. "The fool. He just can't help himself, can he?"

"Hospitality is a virtue," says the headmaster, a graying, old man in a white cloak by name of Monsieur Diacre.

"Where is the President?"

"No one can find him," Bou says. "I will be speaking for him tonight."

"Perhaps we should postpone until he's been found?" a council member echoes.

"As much as I would like to, this matter is grave," Monsieur Diacre says. "A decision must be made tonight. The fate of this stranger depends on our council."

A low murmur reverberates through the room.

"Now, I have received word from two arcane academies, and there, no mention has been found of this place they say they came from, in any language, in any history. There is, in principle, no proof that this person has ever existed.

Despite this, they have appeared at our doorstep, in our clothes. By merit, the Bell of Solace has seen them fit as a student of Noble Bell College."

Bou stands. "With all due respect, sir, I strongly disagree. How do we know they are not a thief, a beggar, or a vagrant? You know well the problems Fleur City has-"

"There is another thing," Monsieur Diacre says, calm despite the tension in the hall. "Perhaps even more grave."

"And that is?"

"If you will recall, some hours ago, in my office?"

"Yes," Bou says, sitting down again with his arms crossed over his broad chest. "A useless conversation about their home, which does not exist, because they are a liar, a thief."

"Not so. Remember the way their eyes clouded when we discussed the Bell, the school, and the ceremony? How they asked, in that confounded tone, about magic? Even you must know that they were truthful then,"

He narrows his eyes. The Justice of the Peace, who had, up until that point, been scratching the "Ph" of his name onto the stand with the fine point of his quill, finally looked up.

"You don't mean to say they don't know about magic?"

"That's impossible," Bou says, though his eyes are downcast, seemingly lost in the memory of their conversation.

"Perhaps we have become too dependent on the academics. The sciences," Monsieur Diacre says. "That we forget the power of miracle."

"You are sure, then- that this person- this stranger- has no magic?"

"None whatsoever?" the Justice of Peace echoes.

Monsieur Diacre gives them both a hard stare. "Monsieur de Neige, you were closest to them. Did anything seem strange as you walked them to my office?"

The boy presses his lips together to make a firm line. "...I did have such an impression,"

"We must consider the reality," he continues, "That is that we have a young person, born and raised without magic, on our campus."

A heavy silence follows. Only the matrons, the professors of Noble Bell College, old and dressed in gray, bell-shaped habits, murmur amongst themselves.

"But I do hope," one whispers, "That we will not keep them."

"I pity the housewardens if they are to be carried to their doors for shelter. I would rather shelter a thief!"

"A sign of bad luck for certain. The greatest calamities! It's no wonder we had such low exam scores last year,"

Bou leans on his elbows against the wood of the stand and grumbles.

"So, what will we do?"

"There are options," the headmaster says. "This very building was once a symbol of hope, a sanctuary for outcasts. I know how our scholars pride themselves on tradition..."

"And the other?" Bou asks, eyes narrowing.

"I am of the opinion," one older, respected professor says. "That it would be better for the scholars of Noble Bell, and the people of Fleur City, if that strange thing were not in our walls."

The room erupts into a frenzy of murmurs, whispers, and hisses. Monsieur Diacre sighs.

"...That is a possibility. I have received offer from Headmaster Crowley of Night Raven College, as he is looking for a new boarder, and would be willing to accommodate a magicless persons. We could-"

"That will not be necessary,"

Despite the obvious unrest, the symphony of whispers, the crackling of the fire, the single voice, the unwavering presence at the large doors of the hall, cold, dignified, carries over the room.

"President Flamme," Bou de Neige says. He is not greeted in return.

"Please thank Monsieur Crowley for the offer, and send him on his way. They will be staying at Noble Bell," the boy says, walking briskly into the room, cutting through the mass of students and staff like a hot blade.

He climbs the steps to the stand and sits between the Vice President and the Justice of the Peace. Both stare at him as if they were looking at a ghost.

"On what grounds, Monsieur Flamme?" the headmaster asks. A few heads nod in agreement.

"By our rules," he says. "If the Bell of Solace has chosen them, then they are ours."

For the first time, Bou seems flustered, stumbling over his words and making a spectacle of himself.

"But- well, yes, that is the rule, but- you must consider- there will always be exceptions! They made trouble at orientation, they ran away with Gregoire, and that's not even mentioning- no magic! How can they be expected to study at this college with no magic?"

"Compose yourself, Vice President," Flamme says sternly, folding his hands in front of himself on the table. "Noble Bell has seen them fit for our academy. There are greater powers at work here.

And who knows? Our Bell works in mysterious ways. Some day, they may be of great use to us."

"You are suggesting we enroll them as a student, then?"

The council waits with baited breath. After an amount of suspense, he nods.

"I am. Shall we vote?"

Chapter Two

You jolt awake to the sound of hard knocking on the door.

The makeshift home Pierrot had brought you to the evening prior looked quite different in the light of morning. You could now make out the interior:

On all sides, you are, once again, surrounded by stone walls. On one, the door, large and heavy. Above you, the ceiling is high, vaulted, and tiled.

Everything is thick with grime and dust.

On either side of you are what appear to be two large stone benches, engraved with arches, men in robes, and writing in a language you don't understand. Atop these benches are a number of things: papers, quills, bundles of clothing, a block of moldy cheese, and many, many books, piled and shelved as if this small place, whatever it was when Pierrot found it, had been baptized a library.

The boy himself, across the straw-covered floor, is just now waking, bleary-eyed and confused.

"Who is it?" asks Pierrot.

A low, annoyed voice comes from the other side of the stone door.

"Housewarden and Vice President de Neige. I've come on official council duty,"

The color drains from Pierrot's face. "Yes, just a moment!"

"Pierrot?" you ask, following him as he scrambles to his feet.

"You must speak to him first, I'll be out in a moment!" he ushers you to the heavy door, drags it open, and then closes it behind you with the unpleasant scrape of stone on stone.

The morning on the field is crisp and chilled, somehow much colder than the little stone room. Bou de Neige is standing in front of you, his arms crossed, an unpleasant scowl on his lips.

"Is he hiding?"

"He said he would be out in a moment,"

"Very well," Bou says. "I suppose we may as well start without him. I've come to prepare you for your classes."

You blink. "...My... classes..."

He scowls again. "Yes, and don't look so dumb. A student of Noble Bell ought to conduct themselves with the poise of the Righteous Judge himself. The council and staff held a vote last night. Despite your obvious lack of abilities, the Bell of Solace has chosen you for Noble Bell College, and thus, you will be permitted to study with us for the foreseeable future. Understood?"

You nod. He seems... unhappy, you think. Or perhaps he's always like that...

"Good," Bou crosses his arms. "You should consider yourself quite lucky. You have powerful allies on your side."

A loud, obtrusive crashing, and a high scream come from inside the little building. The stone door suddenly cries open again, and out comes Pierrot, now dressed in a black and white uniform, similar to de Neige's, except with pants rather than a frock. His hat is lopsided. Bou stares at him with clear disdain.

"This concerns you, as well Gregoire," de Neige says, hands on his hips.

"Me?"

"Wipe that stupid look off your face," he scowls. "Now, listen. You,"

de Neige points at your chest. "...Are useless in the practice of magic. Correct?"

You nod.

"And you-" he points at Pierrot. "Have lost your scholarship, your dorm accommodations, and your respect. You buffoon."

Pierrot blushes and sticks his hands in his pockets, as if feeling their emptiness. One has a finger-sized hole you can see his pinky wiggling out of.

"The council has come up with a solution that would be beneficial to the both of you. As an act of charity, the expenses of the new scholar have been covered by the college. That includes your books, uniforms, and meals. This does not change the fact that you at a clear academic disadvantage; magicless.

Here is the proposition: you and Gregoire, from the moment you accept, will count for one student. You will share your school materials, meals, and clothing provided by your scholarship, you will study together, take the same classes, and in return, he will perform the necessary magic for both of you."

You and Pierrot share a glance.

Bou sighs. "I, personally, would have never come up with such a ridiculous idea, but... unfortunately... your old tutor seems to have faith in you still, Gregoire,"

Pierrot's face goes pale. "You mean-"

"Either that," de Neige interrupts. "Or he simply thinks you are too weak-willed and incompetent to take advantage of them. I expect your answer before the first bell."

He turns on his heels, long, dark hair whipping behind him, and disappears into the grove, on a dirty cobblestone path back to the school.

"...Well?" a voice says from beneath you. You jump, and look down to see the goat, Hugo. Talking. You're still getting used to that...

"Where have you b... never mind," you say. "What do you think, P- Pierrot?"

You look back around to see the gentleman on his knees in front of you, his hands clasped as if in prayer. He's giving you terrible puppydog eyes.

"Please, please, please, this could be my only opportunity! I have nothing else! My studies- Noble Bell is everything!"

You grimace. "...I don't know. I just met you."

For a moment, he almost looks... taken aback, as if he found it strange of you to consider him, of all people, a suspicious character.

His voice drops, and he answers carefully.

"...I swear to you, by my quill, by my hopes of success, not to even approach you without your permission and consent, but, for the Judge's sake, give me a meal plan!"

Hugo bursts out into bleating laughter, and even you smile.

"...Alright," you say. "Let's go give him an answer, then."

Chapter Three

The dining hall, eerily void of living bodies at this early hour, is a thin, and humble building reaching towards the edge of the campus.

Hidden by the monotonous stone walls of the school, it is rather indistinct, the only remarkable thing being that it is held between courtyards on both sides, making it a sort of bridge between one row of buildings and the other, not unlike the stone bridges that hold the embrace between the island and the city.

This modest, almost dull exterior is deceptive, though, as appearances so often are. Once inside the hall, one is met with the magnificent vaulted ceilings, painted dark with stars, held high by the thinnest of thin, delicate arches on the walls, themselves sheltering bodies of stained glass in every color the eye can perceive. Warmed by candlelight and the fire crackling at one end of the magnificent hall, it is nothing short of... well, magic.

The body, no matter how exquisite, dull, or deformed, is nothing without the matter of the soul.

You tilt your head. In a sad sort of way, the feeling reminds you of your straw bed. Dirty, but warmer than the harsh morning outside.

"What did the building used to be?"

"Hm?"

Pierrot hums, smiling as if he had not heard you, preoccupied with piling his plate. You had counted sixteen strips of bacon so far. At this rate, he would build a tower high enough to touch the painted stars on the ceiling.

"Where you sleep. Your room. It's not a dorm, is it?" you ask, following behind, setting a fruit or two on his plate when the opportunity presents itself.

"More oranges," Hugo demands from beneath you. You concede.

Pierrot finishes off his mountain of breakfast with a few slices of bread, and then leads you off to a far corner of the magnificent dining hall.

"Oh, no. A mausoleum,"

"A what?"

"Don't worry, it's empty," he says. "...I think. I've never checked. I recall reading that the bodies from the old cemetery had been moved."

"Cemetery?"

"Fleur City is full of them," Hugo says. "I've been to my fair share. People just leave flowers all over 'em. A free meal is a free meal, right?"

Pierrot nods in agreement, though he doesn't really seem to be listening. You grimace.

"Yes. The field is covered in tombstones. They're quite pretty," he says. "But the bodies were reburied under the tiles in Noble Bell a long time ago."

Each thing they add seems to be more concerning than the last.

Hugo bleats. "You're gonna have to get used to the cadavers, y'know. This place is old, and full of 'em... and their parts,"

"Yuck,"

"Nonsense," Pierrot says. "There is beauty and life in everything, even death itself. Such is the danse macabre."

You and Hugo share a look. What did he say he was, again...?

"Do you think he came out like that, or was he taught?"

"Rude," Pierrot mumbles. "But one might say it runs in my family."

He offers you a slice of bread, and you decline. The headache you'd been fighting off since first light is making you nauseous.

"Tell us about your family," anything to distract yourself now.

Pierrot smiles, his features warming like the sun on a winter day. He always seems quite pleased to talk about himself.

"I'm afraid it's nothing interesting. My father is a notary, and I have five brothers, though most are older than I. The closest in age, a year younger, is at another arcane academy. Alas, I was disowned, and haven't spoken to them in some time,"

"Unsurprising," Hugo mutters. He snags the slice of bread that would have been yours off the plate, between his teeth, and returns to lying under the table.

You lean into your elbow. "Why were you disowned?"

"By my passion," he smiles. "See, I tried to be a guard, but wasn't brave enough. I became a religious man, but was not devout enough, and couldn't drink enough, anyway. I tried carpentry, but wasn't strong enough. At last, I realized I was good at nothing- therefore, I became a writer."

"And your family didn't approve?"

"Not quite. But then I was here," Pierrot becomes quiet, his eyes turned up at the colored windows of the hall with a sort of holy reverence.

"...And the rest is history."

You blink. Disowned by his family, stripped of his scholarship and thrown out of his own dorm by his housewarden?

He's resilient, at least. You'll give him that.

"And your scholarship?"

"Bah, that was nothing. I simply... printed a pamphlet on free thought that the school officials did not care for,"

"Your dorm?"

"I annoyed the housewarden,"

This guy can't catch a break. No wonder he was so desperate for your help.

"Who's the housewarden?" you ask, watching him absent-mindedly scratch beneath his cap.

"Of L'Universite? You've already met him. He is the one who came to see us this morning, Bou de Neige,"

You hum. Of course... Perhaps he is always that unhappy, then.

"I don't miss him. I kept to myself at L'Universite. The students were... unpleasant," Pierrot shudders, as if taken by some unfelt chill, and you raise an eyebrow.

He goes on without question. "You'd assume, with such a name, that the dorm is only for the most exemplary of scholars, but they're unruly. I was almost burnt alive only once, though,"

Huh. "Why is it called that?"

"The three dorms of Noble Bell are based upon the ancient divisions of Fleur City. On one side, the university district- L'Universite- on one, the aristocratic gardens- here, called La Ville- and in the center, the sacred island, which we call The City," he explains, snapping a crisp piece of bacon in half.

"...But the histories of the dorms have little to do with their personalities. They're only to pay homage to the time when Noble Bell was established. Up until Monsieur de Neige, L'Universite had no housewarden, as per tradition. It was overseen by the college itself..."

"Then the kids got too rough, and the administration had had enough of 'em. I heard about that," Hugo's voice comes from under the table.

Pierrot nods. "Now, de Neige has completely turned it around. He punishes anyone who steps out of line,"

This is a strange place, you think for the umpteenth time.

Chapter Four

Fed, sated, and warmed by good conversation, Pierrot leads you through the delicate halls of Noble Bell College with a renewed lust for life in his step.

He goes about, pointing towards windows and great pillars and plaques on the walls and floor, explaining their origins, which came from where, from what year and artist.

You nod along, content to just listen while your mind wandered.

It feels too real to be a dream, but it must be one. In your world, animals don't talk, humans don't cast spells, and schools don't have astrology classes.

Hugo had disappeared again, likely off looking for table scraps. He seemed to have a will of his own. Pierrot hadn't noticed yet.

"And the tile from this courtyard was repurposed from the Place de Grève..."

He talks so much to himself, it almost feels as if you are alone while right beside him. Despite that, and that he's facing away from you, his sunny self pointed toward the tiled courtyard he seems so enthusiastic about, you can't help but feel as if someone is watching you.

That strange, unnerving feeling had been following you since you left the dining hall. No matter how many times you turned over your shoulder, reassuring yourself that it was only your nerves, it lingered.

Every corner or so, another dignified scholar will pass you by, dressed in the same uniform, quiet, poised, looking straight ahead. Once, you walk by someone shrouded in a blue cloak, singing "Thaumarks to spare? Thaumarks to spare?" to whom you apologize for having nothing.

You don't even know what a thaumark is.

Pierrot leads you through yet another courtyard, and the feeling of eyes on your person never leaves.

It's beginning to weigh on you.

"How much longer?"

"Hm?" he finally turns to look at you, and the strange feeling subsides, slipping back into the shadows of the hall.

"Not much. Don't worry, Scriptorium is easy. As long as you pretend to be busy, no one will bother you,"

Chapter Five

Pierrot could not have given a truer description.

Though, he could have at least warned you about the boredom.

The melodious sound of forty quills on paper echoes off the stone walls and tiled floors. There is no talking, no eating, no foot-tapping, no whispers. The faint sound of the city, as close as it is, feels distant from here.

The parchment before you is as empty as it was at the beginning of class, and the book you'd been provided is on the very same page. The student in front of you has filled two pages already, delicately copying the contents of the book onto the parchment.

Pierrot, sitting beside you, seems to be writing something of his own. At least he seems entertained...

Then, all at once, everyone begins gathering their quills and ink, standing from their seats without a word. Pierrot jolts, shuffling around his things to cover his pages of writing as the other students pass him by.

Though he waits until everyone else is gone before getting up himself, avoiding their prying eyes is useless. Waiting outside the lecture hall is none other than his ex-housewarden himself.

"You. Come with me," Bou says, sharp, crimson eyes boring into you. "We have some things to discuss."

You share a glance with Pierrot. He looks sympathetic, waving you goodbye as de Neige leads you in the other direction.

"I trust you enjoyed Scriptorium?" he doesn't look at you when he speaks.

"Oh- um, yes,"

"Good. Copying manuscripts is an honored tradition of Noble Bell," he says.

"Until the invention of the printing press, all books were made by hand. Though the press made the process fast and inexpensive, the beauty of manuscripts remains unmatched."

You look at him. "You seem to have a lot of traditions,"

He returns your look with a glare. "We are a proud school. It would do you well to adopt a similar attitude. And not to let the idealistic drivel of that fool get to you,"

By "that fool", you assume he means Pierrot. That boy keeps getting stranger and stranger...

"What did he do, anyway?"

de Neige mumbles "heresy", and then clears his throat. "Nothing of your concern. Now, hurry up. You're dawdling,"

Chapter Six

As you pass through the halls of Noble Bell, you think of how easy one could get lost in a place like this.

It's almost labyrinthine. It seems as if every turn leads to another lecture hall, another crypt, another library...

"You should consider yourself fortunate," de Neige says. He's been going on about Noble Bell for some time.

"Of all the arcane academies, Noble Bell College's curriculum has the least practical magic."

"Right," you mutter, following him up another narrow flight of stairs.

"And despite that," he says, "You are already being coddled. The headmaster is... soft. Which brings us to the purpose of my visit."

Bou stops in front of a narrow wooden door and turns in a swift movement to face you. "Follow me," he says.

He takes something out of the depths of his pocket and slots it into the heavy, iron-bound wooden door, then pushes it open as if it were a silk curtain.

You follow him up another flight of stairs, and into a darkened room. The only light, cold and gray, comes from a handful of flower-shaped windows, whose glow illuminates the piles of books and dusty furniture cluttering the small room. Another staircase at the far end leads further into the unknown.

Your eyes are drawn to the window closest to yourself, and you peer out over the island, studying the city, its shape, its color, the curve of its river. You could spend your life up here, alone, comforted only by stone and the dim, foggy noon outside.

Bou hums, drawing your attention back to the present moment. He seems familiar with the room, walking about it and dusting its worn furniture with the sleeve of his uniform.

"Here is the north bell tower. You will be staying here from now on,"

Your eyes widen. "But..."

"Careful. It would be unwise to reject such a generous offer," Bou says, refusing to face you. "The bell towers are spacious, quiet, and warm. Winters are quite cold here."

"But Pierrot?"

Finally, you can see the crimson of his eyes, as he turns over his shoulder to glare at you.

"The student council thinks it improper for you to be living alone with Gregoire. He will stay in La Tombe,"

"But-"

"The key," Bou says, ignoring your protests. He takes something cold out of his pocket and places it in your hand. His skin is almost as chilled as the metal.

"I'll see to it that your mail is forwarded here,"

He turns and leaves you in the room, the rough, cold key still cradled in your open palm. You scoff. What mail?

No one knows you. And no one you know knows where you are.

You don't belong. You're an outcast here.

Your fingers tighten around the key. The least you can do is tell Pierrot. You don't want him to worry when you don't come back tonight, after all.

Finally finding some semblance of purpose, you take long, confident steps back the way you came.

Down the narrow wooden stairs, out the left door, down the stone ones, through this passage, this hallway, this turn, then this, and then...

...No. You don't recognize this hallway. It's darker, and the ceiling is lower. You must have gone too far down.

You take a breath. Don't worry. You'll just retrace your steps.

It isn't over. You've been telling yourself that all day. This is not where it ends. You'll find a way out of this.

All of this.

And then, you're no longer alone.

Though there is no noise, no light, no voice that would indicate a human presence, you are suddenly quite aware that there's someone behind you, watching you from the way you came.

All the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and you stay in place. If you are to turn now, will you see someone- or something- standing behind you? A pair of eyes watching you from the doorway you'd just ducked under?

Or, worse- will you see nothing at all?

You decide you don't want to find out either way.

You keep going. Into the dark of the hall, over another threshold and another, around the corner. At some lengths, the feeling seems to subside, giving you a moment's worth of peace, and then it returns.

The halls are getting narrower. You have an inexplicable feeling that you are no longer in the school, but somewhere much deeper, much older, primeval.

The scuff of shoe against stone, which most certainly did not come from your own feet, makes you go cold.

"Who's there?" you shout.

The only response in your own echo.

"Come out! Stop following me! Leave me alone!"

The words come tumbling out without much thought. You can feel yourself slipping into a panic.

Thoughts chase each other through your mind, and then suspicions and paranoia poison those thoughts. You must ask yourself now, what is this? What's there, in the dark, just out of sight?

And your mind answers for you: it is a monster.

There is a monster in Noble Bell College, and it wants you.

"Leave me be!" you yell at nothing. You're starting to get desperate.

Nothing happens. Then, all at once, a light comes from ahead of you, not behind, and someone shouts:

"Who's there?"

You turn your back to the dark behind you in a frenzy, and, finally, the feeling of being watched disappears entirely.

"Me! I'm here!"

Around the corner comes a boy, one you had not seen before. Not tall, but not short, sturdily built, we'll say. He's quite good looking, at least compared to the other students you'd met, with light brown hair spilling out of a short, stubby ponytail, blue eyes, darkened by the black of the hall, and, curiously, the wisps of a beard on his chin. He's quite unlike any of the other students you'd seen so far.

But, the more pressing question-

"Who are you?" he asks it before you can.

You say your name, and his eyes widen. His stern expression turns merry, and he smiles.

"Ah, I know you. The magicless one,"

That's not very reassuring. You grimace.

"...How do you know who-"

"You shouldn't be down here alone, you know. It's not safe. We've had some thieves on campus lately,"

"Thieves?"

"Yes. Or so I've heard," he nods solemnly, and then a strange mood comes about him.

He smirks and puts his hand on his hip, his other at his hilt, purposefully drawing your eyes to what must be a sword. A big one, too, if his smile is any indication.

"But don't worry. I'll protect you. You know, I haven't seen you in person yet. The way everyone's been talking about you, I assumed you were some sort of monster. But you're actually very pretty,"

You give him a weird look. Perhaps you were wrong- of course, he's just as strange as the others. "Um... alright...."

"Ah, where are my manners? Let me escort you back to your room."

"...Right," you say, looking over your shoulder one last time. The boy follows your gaze, and then coughs for your attention.

"Bell tower, yes?"

You look back at him and nod.

"Then let's not waste any time,"

Chapter Seven

Despite his confidence, it takes the boy a full hour to find the right passage out of the tunnels. He gets to the bell tower easy enough, at least.

Something about him tells you he's not from here, either, but you keep the thought to yourself for now.

"Well, here we are," he says, hands on his hips as if he had just accomplished something.

"...Yes. Well, thank you,"

He beams, gives you a courteous bow, locks of hair falling over his face as he does. They turn golden in the sunlight. "It was my honor. And if you need anything else-"

"There you are," someone says from within the bell tower. You recognize the gruff voice, but before you can answer, the heavy wooden door bursts open and Hugo tumbles out.

He chuffs. "We've been worried sick, 'ya know! Pierrot's all over the place! Who's the stiff?"

You turn to the boy, and his smirk sharpens at the acknowledgement. "Um... I don't know, actually. Who are you?"

"My name is Phoenix. It means, ah, sun bird," he chuckles.

You and Hugo exchange a glance, and he stops laughing. "I'm the Justice of the Peace of the student council. I was doing my rounds when I heard you shouting,"

You turn back to Hugo to explain. "I got lost,"

"No kidding!"

"I didn't know you had a kid," Phoenix says, the same sly smile on his lips. You almost scoff.

"Yeah, and he doesn't take kindly to pigs!" Hugo says. "Now, get lost! That's our magicless human!"

As the two go back-and-forth, a little glimmer of white against the dark brown of the floor catches your eye. You kneel, and pull a thin envelope from under the wooden door. It has your name on the back, and a bite taken out of the corner. You roll your eyes at that. Hugo.

The goat sets off, headbutting Phoenix back down the narrow stairs and leaving you alone again. You sit on the floor and open the letter.

Dearly Beloved, it starts,

The King of Truands has reviewed your case and sees you fit to join his Cour des Miracles. All thieves, beggars, vagrants, or otherwise outcasts, welcome.

You turn over the parchment, noting its weight, and stuck to the back is a thin pendant, woven of purple and teal twine, in the shape of a leaf. At its heart, a small, golden cross.

How strange...

You squint at the pendant, and then the letter, which, quite rudely, bursts into flame in your hand.

You drop the fiery letter and it dissolves into ashes on the floor. You huff. Magic...

"And stay out!" Hugo's voice returns from the stairs. For a goat, he certainly has a loud bark.

The white of his small head crowns over the steps, and you stand.

"Hugo," you hold out the pendant to him. "Do you know what this is?"

The goat stops and squints, then scoffs. "One 'a those touristy necklaces. They're all over the city, I can't remember what they're for, though. Just that they don't taste good,"

You hum, bringing the pendant back towards yourself. Why would this King of Truands send you a souvenir?

"...Maybe Pierrot will know," you finally say. He seems to know a lot of useless things, after all.

You hurry to the stairs, Hugo trotting behind you. "What's the big deal?"

"I don't know," you say, paying close attention to each step. You don't want to get lost all over again, after all.

"I've had a bad feeling all day. I think this means something."

"Great, a fortune teller," Hugo sighs.

He follows you, anyway.

Chapter Eight

The sun is already setting over the city when you stumble down the steps of Noble Bell.

The sky is streaked with fiery pinks and oranges, making the school look cold and dull by comparison. Even the clouds, red and descending on the wrought iron gates like a bloodied army, turn the stone of the city into a dull, lifeless blue.

You stumble across the sports field and into the grove at the end of the island.

"Slow down!" Hugo gasps.

You don't. But you do stop at La Tombe and pull open its heavy stone door. It's dark inside.

"Pierrot?" you call for him, as if he were hiding behind a book or in a stray shoe.

Nothing.

"Hey, come look at this!"

You abandon the mausoleum and turn to its side, where Hugo is standing over an attached tomb. Its stone lid has been pushed to the ground beside it, and there's light coming from its depths.

"You think he...?" you start, unable to look away from its gaping mouth. Instead of dust and bones, there's a flight of stairs.

"Who else?" Hugo sighs. "He was looking all over for you."

"He must've panicked when the sun started going down," you murmur. "We have to get him."

"What?" Hugo asks, eyes wide. "Are you crazy?"

You take the pendant out of your pocket and hold it against the warm light coming from inside the tomb.

"I just have a feeling," you breathe in slowly, and take your first step into the grave. "Let's go find Pierrot."

#noble bell #noble bell college #twisted wonderland #twst #rollo flamme

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princessanonymous · 8 months

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When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

Previous Part | Next Part

First Chapter

14. 𝓢𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓻

He left her in that room for the rest of the night trapped with the rotting corpse. The flickering candlelight casted an eerie shadow, etching the gruesome tableau indelibly into her consciousness.

Returning hours later, the sound of the lock announcing his presence, she remained motionless, her gaze fixated upon the lifeless form. Her back turned to him, she whispered, the words carrying a lot of weight. "I'm sorry," the phrase lingered in the air, a hollow murmur directed at the vampire or perhaps at the forsaken victim. She wasn’t quite sure.

"I know you are, doll," he responded with a voice that danced between sweetness and a subtle cruelty that spoke of centuries of existence.

She shook her head, trying to explain herself as well as erase the image from her mind. "I didn't want this..."

"Yet, you have brought this upon her," he countered. A hand rested on her hair. "Do not fret, dear. You have learned, have you not ?"

She maintained her silence, a tremor coursing through her weakened frame. Fatigue clung to her like a shroud, and a gentle tug on her hair spurred a clenching of her jaw. "Did you understand, dear?" he inquired, the softness of his tone juxtaposed against the underlying severity.

A muted nod was her sole response. The enfolding of arms around her form and a head resting on her shoulder signaled a rare, perhaps even genuine, tenderness. "Say it, dear," he whispered into the stillness, the words imbued with a delicate insistence. "Tell me you will not try this again." A dampness traced the contours of her neck. A single tear that wasn't hers.

"I won't," she promised with an apathy that indicated her surrender.

⊱ ────── {⋆☾⋆} ────── ⊰

Dorian cradled her with a gentle strength, carrying her weightless form to her room like a precious offering. He lowered her onto the bed tenderly. A soft kiss graced her forehead. Silently, he left the room.

He sighed as he entered his coffin. Vampires didn't need to sleep, but rest was a welcomed interlude, a temporal escape into the velvet embrace of his coffin. It was here, in the darkness, that Dorian found solace. It was a pleasant way to ponder about the event of the night.

While this might have appeared harsh or even cruel, Dorian did not regret it. She had to learn, he repeated to himself fervently. She needed this discipline, the chilling reality etched into the fabric of her soon to be immortal existence. It was a lesson to endure and remember. She had done this to herself and it was his job, as her parent, to educate her. He wanted this to be ingrained in her mind. He wanted her to remember. He wanted to squeeze out this rebellious streak out of her; to pull it out and crush it until there was nothing left of it.

Furthermore, the woman deserved it. The duke had given them all one very specific rule : to keep her in. Yet, one servant broke that rule, having been convinced by the young girl.

This brought up another matter. Dorian was well aware of (Y/n)'s craftiness. She had coaxed and deceived the maid. His daughter had fooled the lady with charming words for weeks.

The lingering pride in Dorian's chest, a testament to his daughter's cunning persuasion, manifested as a soft smile on his lips. The realization of her adept craftiness fueled a certain paternal pride—a sentiment that seamlessly blended into his musings on her intelligence and adaptability. In the chessboard of their existence, she had proven herself a brave player. Brave, but foolish. Her actions were extremely reckless. Bad behavior, no matter how well executed it was, had to be punished. It was his duty to do so; just as it was hers to learn and act accordingly.

Eventually, in the middle of the day, Dorian's tranquil contemplation was shattered by a distant scream from his child's room. In the fraction of a second, he was on high alert. He rose from his coffin and marched to his child's room.

He found her rolling in her bed, sweating profusely while muttering to herself. A nightmare. He should have expected this following the recent events.

Discovering her in the throes of a nightmare, he sat on her bed, gently shaking her to wake her up from the distressing dream. Whispering soft reassurances, he comforted her until she gasped awake. "This was but a bad dream," the duke wrapped his arms around the girl, shushing her cries.

She clung to him, her small frame seeking solace in the embrace of the vampire who had become her guardian. They remained in this position for a while. When Dorian deemed her sufficiently comforted, he prepared to withdraw. However, her pleas pierced the air, "Don't..." she sobbed while gripping his clothes harder. "Not alone..."

He sighed with no real annoyance. With grace, he slipped beneath the covers, drawing her into the protective cocoon of his arms. The sheets embraced them both, a refuge against the nocturnal terrors that haunted her. His fingers combed through her hair, his chin found its resting place atop her head. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked.

(Y/n) shook her head, burying her face in his chemise in a childlike manner. How sweet. He smiled fondly.

"That is fine," he whispered soothingly. "We can simply remain like this." She nodded.

Her lips did not remain sealed for long however. "I miss my parents," her whimper broke the silence minutes later, the raw ache of longing echoing in her voice. "I want my mom."

A pang of jealousy fluttered within him, quickly stifled. This was his role now. "I am here," he declared, tightening his embrace.

In her vulnerability, she leaned into him. The nightmare had done a great deal to her, but Dorian couldn't help but feel a sense of joy. It was in these weakest moments that the girl was most receptive, that he could more easily reach.

He planted a kiss on her head. This was his child, she was his. His to protect and his to cherish.

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

Imagine being so desperate that you have to seek comfort from that same person that hurt you so much. yikes. not good mentally or emotionally for dear (Y/n). But good for my fic :)

Spent hours trying to find the perfect image for this chapter, I gave up and just put something that was meh.

#platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere vampire #yandere father #obsession #yandere #vampire #platonic #x reader #female reader #reader insert #child reader #yandere x reader #fanfic

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starry-eyed-wild-child · 1 month

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~ the way she tells me i'm hers, and she is mine ~

kappa x reader

a/n: whoooo! It's finally back, pookies! I'm so, so sorry that I haven't updated this in a while - life has been exciting and hectic to say the least! Yes, I used one of Kappa's quotes in this, sue me.

summary: after the eventful weekend with your family, all you can do is wait for your cult leader to come home to you

warnings: SMUT (mdni), unprotected sex, breeding kink, swearing, slight religious imagery (sorry to my church), my first ever smut, yikes

taglist: @ithinkitstimetonap @greenxgloss @angelsanarchy

The night air carried a gentle breeze, brushing against you like a sweet caress - sitting outside in your garden, sipping on a mug of herbal tea. The breeze was a sweet contrast - the chill on your skin and the warmth of the mug in your hands. The music from your record player washed over you, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

Kappa saw you. Wanting so badly to come and sit with you. To touch you. Though the fear of your family still lingering about held him back. His eyes fixated on you in an almost painful longing.

You heard a twig snap in the distance, making you jump. How cliche, you thought. You held your mug further to your chest, closing the door of your garden behind you as you went inside. With a sigh of relief, you watched as Kappa sauntered from behind the bushes.

Kappa emerged from behind the tree, his eyes wide and curious when he saw you turn around.

"Scared me to death." you giggled, opening the doors to let him in. "You want a warm drink?" you offered, walking into the kitchen.

Kappa stepped through into your home, his heart racing with excitement and anticipation. He felt the warmth of your home envelope him, pushing away the bitter chill of the night. He smiled at your offer, but shook his head 'no'.

"I have a door, y'know, no need to go lurking around my bushes like a creep." you teased, sitting down on the living room floor.

Kappa chuckled at your remark, tilting his head to the side as he watched you sit on the floor, an almost predatory look in his eyes. As you sat down, he followed suit, sitting across from you and staring at you intently.

"I'll keep that in mind for next time." he joked, a hint of amusement in his words.

"Not like I'm not happy to see you... but what are you doing here? You can't keep leaving the family like this." you asked, concerned about how often Kappa seemed to leave them unattended.

Kappa sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping over as he ran a hand over his face.

"I know... I know I shouldn't leave them like this.... but how else would I see my girl, sugar?" he smirked, shifting closer to you on the floor, his fingers teasing the skin of your inner thighs. "It's a lot sometimes... I think I deserve an escape every now and then hm?"

"I understand... I think..." you said, trying to find the right words, "I mean... I don't. I'm not a cult leader..." you snickered, "But I want to try and understand... to help."

Kappa nodded, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "I have to maintain order... I have the weight of responsibility. Sometimes... I get so caught up."

"Well... we don't want that now, do we?" you hummed, placing a soft kiss on his ear, trailing them down to his jaw. "Can't have you forgetting who you are." you murmured, holding onto his shoulders.

"No." he whispered, his voice low and hot in your ear, "No, we don't want that."

You took another moment, sighing deeply before your eyes met his. A look of determination in them.

"I wanna join, Kappa." you spoke lowly, almost as though you didn't want him to hear you say it, "Wanna be with you..."

You knew this was a huge commitment. You knew that. You were seriously asking your cult leader lover to join his hippie family - you'd officially gone mad.

Though, Kappa was taking this surprisingly well. You assumed that he'd tell you it was a spur of the moment decision. That you were foolish and should be ashamed of even asking. Instead, he brought your hand to his lips, kissing the tips of your fingers.

"Together... we can create something beautiful... meaningful." Kappa spoke, his words filled with conviction.

You nodded eagerly, your eyes clouded over with twisted love and sickening desire. God, it would be true what they would come to say. That you were just as sick and twisted as he was - and you didn't even know it yet.

"We'll build a new world together..." you added with a soft sigh, "Like the Garden of Eden... paradise on Earth...that we shaped... together."

"Our children will grow up in paradise...a world that we created... just for them..." Kappa leaned forward, holding your hips tightly as his eyes pierced yours.

Your heart fluttered, leaping when he mentioned children. You could see it. Your children. They would be beautiful. Built on nothing but love and devotion - bred on passion and raised with loyalty. Symbolic of everything the world should be - and would be.

You nodded at his words. And you'd allow Kappa to see this side of you. The deluded, passionate and possessive side that he knew he was responsible for creating. You were everything he'd ever wanted. And you were all his.

And you just couldn't help yourself. You leaned forward, pressing a deep, fiery kiss to his lips, locking with heat and pent up desires. You didn't want to pull away - like a thirsting man from water. All love and lust was poured into the kiss, and it was warm and full of light.

"They'll grow up knowing unity... paradise.. freedom. Knowing that defying Earth... defying nature must have a cost."

A sense of profound contentment washed over as Kappa wrapped his arms around you, kissing and nipping his way down your throat. The whole image. The whole talk of children, of building a new world built for paradise sparked something in you. Something primal that made you want to have Kappa in the most natural, intimate way.

You pushed him gently so that he lay on his back on your floor, the crackling from the fire cast a soft glow over Kappa as he lay looking pretty under you. You popped the buttons of his shirt open, one by one, peppering kisses down his chest and abdomen as you went. You could feel Kappa's beating heart under his skin, the thumping had your mind swirling.

"Want you to give me your children." you hummed lowly, moving your hands to his thighs as you lay your head on his stomach. You peered up at Kappa through your lashes and the seemingly innocent act only fuelled his aching want.

"Fuck." Kappa gritted out, holding you so tight you knew it would bruise. He tilted his head with his lips parted, staring up at you. God. How he hoped for a little girl that looked exactly like you.

You laughed lowly, almost manically, as you shifted positions, swinging your legs over his in a straddle. You smirked softly, reaching your hand back and down to firmly grip Kappa where he needed you. The warm, throbbing feeling in your palm had your mind spinning.

"F-fuck you... that's.. that's unfair." Kappa spat, groaning at the friction.

Your smile widened when Kappa gave the reaction you so desperately wanted. You knew that in any other situation, he'd be angry. Embarrassed that you had so much control over him.

"You like that, sugar, hm?" you cooed mockingly, moving your hand up and down with a firm, slow grip.

"You're... such... a bitch." he groaned, "Don't you dare stop, sugar."

"Or what?" you teased, slowing down your movements ever so slightly but keeping the grip on Kappa firm and tight. You felt your own need growing by the second, but you were too engrossed in seeing how far you could push Kappa before he snapped.

"You're a fuckin' tease... If that was anyone else... I'd beat the fuck outta you, yeah?"

You raised a brow, challenging Kappa with a small, satisfied smirk on your face. You knew you had him exactly where you wanted him. And, God, did Kappa know that too. You removed your hand, making Kappa growl lowly at the lack of contact as he felt the building pressure die off inside him.

Instead, you rocked yourself back and forth slowly, tossing your head back with a pleased sigh. You felt your eyes clouding over, and you reached down to interlock Kappa's fingers with your own - a strangely intimate gesture that only added to Kappa's aching want.

Kappa swallowed hard, the rough grip on your hips tightening.

"I need you so damn bad...get the fuck on me, sugar." Kappa grunted, moving you up roughly so that your dripping core was positioned right where he needed you to be.

You hummed, satisfied with how eager Kappa was to beg for you. Watching as his knuckled turned white with how hard he was gripping on to you. You moaned softly when you felt Kappa twitching beneath you, the obvious sign of the lust that was pooling in his stomach.

Kappa growled, pure animalistic need radiating from his body as he lowered your hips down onto his, throwing his head back on your floor as he was enveloped by the warm, wet feeling of your core around him.

"How'd you want it, sugar?" you hushed out between pants, resting your intertwined hands on Kappa's chest.

Kappa grunted, squeezing your hands tighter - feeling the need to cling to you. To anchor to himself like this was the last time he'd ever have you like this.

"Fuck... fast. And hard." he gritted out, his voice strained with primal need. Kappa let out a guttural sound, groaning lowly as you did as he requested, moving on top of him fast and rough. The tightness of your warm body around him sends shock waves of pleasure through his body, Kappa's head spinning with ecstasy.

"That's it... just like that...f-fuck, sugar." he panted, his voice rough and ragged.

You laughed breathlessly, the sound turning into a broken, choked back moan as you kept the steady, rough pace. You wanted to make this last as long as possible, not caring at all about how irritated your neighbours would be - at three in the morning.

"Jesus, sugar... I'm getting close. You gotta... slow the fuck down." Kappa said, his voice shaking as he teetered on the edge of release.

You rolled your eyes, pressing a light slap to his cheek - not enough to hurt, but enough to sting just right and to make Kappa's eyes widen at your audacity.

"Don't you dare." you hissed through your pleasured state, "You can go longer than that."

"F-fuck... you're goddamn crazy.." Kappa breathed out, his eyes screwing shut as he tried to hold back his desperate release that was tightening in his abdomen.

"I'm crazy... you're crazy... we'll be crazy together." you whispered hotly in his ear, lowering yourself down all the way, taking Kappa as deep as you could.

"Y-yeah... but you, sugar... you're a whole other level of unhinged. You're batshit crazy...and that's why I love you so goddamn much." Kappa said, his voice nothing more than a gruff, low grunt in your ear.

You gasped loudly, your eyes fluttering closed as Kappa hit that beautiful spot inside you that had stars exploding behind your eyes like a colourful kaleidoscope. And Kappa could see it. Imagining you beside him, joining the family, life being like this all the time.

"Jesus, fuck... you close?" Kappa panted inn between short, shaking breaths.

"Uh-huh." you whimpered, clutching Kappa's hands in yours and pulling them to your chest as you felt that all too familiar coil tightening in your abdomen.

"S'so close, sugar, fuck... made for me, weren't you?" you cooed lowly, desperately seeking the release that threatened to wash over you any moment now.

Kappa couldn't respond. His mind already too blissed out to even think about forming a coherent response.

"M' gonna cum, Kappa... and you're gonna cum with me. Deep inside, yeah?" you hissed, gripping and clutching at his hands like they were your last tether to Earth.

Kappa nodded frantically, a little too eager for what he would've liked. But he couldn't help it. Not when you felt like this around him - tight and clenching as the band inside your abdomen snapped.

"Y-yeah, sugar. I'm gonna cum... deep inside, just like you want." Kappa grunted, wrapping his arms around you as he felt you collapse against his chest as your release washed over you like a tidal wave.

You let out one last shuddering gasp when you felt Kappa paint your insides with thick ropes of hot, white release, burying your head in his neck as you tried to regain your breath. You truly hoped that this would be it. That your baby, symbolic of the new world you'd build together, would be created.

After a few moments of silence, only being broken by your panting breaths as the flames of the fire - you spoke up again.

"When can I come meet the family?" you asked, making Kappa chuckle breathlessly as his fingers traced invisible patterns up and down your back.

"As soon as you're ready."

You nodded, humming against his chest as you lay down beside him, intertwining your legs together - a soft mess of limbs and naked flesh.

"I'm ready now."

If this had been a book, it would've ended badly. You'd both get lost in the lust for power and passion in creating the new Eden - paradise on Earth. You'd go crazy together and would encourage each other's madness until the very end. Though we have yet to reach this part of the story...

#kappa black mirror #kappa x reader #rory culkin #rory culkin x reader #someone new series #Spotify

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autumnshighlady · 7 months

Text

I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 24)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: Eris is now High Lord, but the three of you have a serious talk

warnings: Feysand slander, tooth-rotting fluff and adorableness to make up for the emotional last few chapters

word count: 5.5k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: to those of you who thought the last chapter was the end, do not fear! There's still 5-10 more chapters to go. But the poor reader finally gets a break. This is a chill chapter with lots of fluff as a little treat, enjoy

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20 / part 21 / part 22 / part 23

read on ao3

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

It had been three days since Eris killed Beron in the dungeons. After it was done, the new High Lord ordered Azriel to take you to your room, where you would be guarded and seen by servants for your injuries. You had protested, wanting to join your mates in dealing with the aftermath of the days’ events, but were quickly shot down.

“Absolutely not.” Eris had said sternly. “You have been beaten senseless and need time to heal. There are going to be lots of angry individuals and people attempting to challenge me, and I will not have you anywhere near that. We will find you when things settle down, I promise.”

Additionally, he had mentioned that he would be blaming his father and brother’s death on Hybern assassins – they had snuck into the castle in an attempt to wipe out the Vanserra bloodline while they slept. The story was that Beron had been slain during his late night walk around the dungeons, the assassins had attempted to kill you as well, but Malgorm died defending you. Hence an explanation for your injuries and a way to keep you sheltered from the chaos of Eris’s transition to High Lord.

The idea that Malgorm would be perceived as a noble hero in the narrative made you roll your eyes, but Eris assured you that there wasn’t a single individual in this court who didn’t know how vile Malgorm truly was. It made you feel slightly better.

You had been bored out of your mind for the past three days. Your injuries were almost fully healed, thanks to the work of the healers. Nesta had come to visit you a few times, brushing your hair or holding you in her arms until you fell asleep again. You yearned for the additional comfort of Eris’s presence, but he was understandably busy. Nesta insisted he was remorseful for his lack of time to see you, but you could feel it through the bond already.

Part of you was still angry with Eris for hiding his knowledge of the bond. Deep down, you knew he did it out of concern for your safety, but even though you had come to terms with the idea of Eris being your mate, the betrayal still stung. You tried to ignore it – Eris had worked so hard and sacrificed so much to help you and Nesta, the least you could do was give him the benefit of the doubt. But with everything that had happened, there hadn’t been a good time to talk about it with him yet.

Lirilla had also paid you one or two visits over the past three days. She had thanked you over a dozen times, tearfully expressing how she owed you an eternal debt for bringing her back at the cost of never seeing your own mother again if you were to die. You had teared up in response, a hundred different emotions running through you. At first, you had expected to feel some faint resentment, knowing your mother’s soul had brought back the Lady of Autumn.

But there was none. In fact, you had an opportunity few others had – to say a proper goodbye to a departed loved one, and have one final moment wrapped in their embrace. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t cried into your pillow several times over the memory, clinging onto it as if it would fade away into the breeze. But somehow, having Lirilla alive and present helped you.

Night began to fall on the third day since Beron’s death, and it took you great effort to pry yourself out of the warm bubble bath a servant had drawn from you. Lavender and mint clung to your scent from the healing soaps you had used to scrub yourself raw, still feeling the sticky sensation of Malgorm’s blood being painted over you. No matter how many times you bathed, it wouldn’t go away.

After putting on a pale grey nightgown, you settled into bed to read when a soft knock sounded at your door. The inside of your chest warmed and fluttered like a cat purring, and you felt the bond glow with happiness. You knew who it was before the door even opened. “Come in, Nesta.” You called out, propping yourself up on the lush green pillows.

Nesta entered your room, still wearing her dark red dress from dinner. Half her hair was pulled back into a braid, the other half cascading down her back in elegant waves. In her hand was a plate of fresh strawberries, the unmistakable rich smell of chocolate coming from the small bowl beside the fruit.

Your mouth watered. “Please tell me those are for me.”

“No, I brought them all this way just to make you watch me eat them in front of you.” Nesta said dryly, closing the door behind her. “Of course they’re for you. I snagged them from dessert. Figured you’d want some.”

“Obviously.” You said, shifting more to the centre of the bed and patting the space next to you. The bed was absolutely massive, leaving tons of room for the female to come sit beside you. After kicking off her shoes and sliding under the thick covers, she settled the plate carefully on her lap. Wordlessly, you curled into Nesta’s side, resting your head on her chest and sighing contently. Slender fingers came up to tangle themselves in your hair, gently caressing the locks. Nesta’s free hand reached down and grabbed a strawberry, dipping it in the chocolate before bringing it to your lips. Eagerly, you lifted your head slightly and moaned as warm dark chocolate hit your tongue, along with the sweet taste of the freshest strawberry you’d ever had.

“Mmm…” You mumbled, swallowing the delicacy. “I could die happy right now.”

With the hand that was stroking your hair, Nesta smacked you lightly. “Don’t you dare even joke about that,” She scolded. “You’ve had too many close calls for that to be even remotely funny.”

“Whatever. Feed me another chocolate covered strawberry and I’ll shut up about it.”

Nesta rolled her eyes but obliged, and you rested your head back on her chest after swallowing. You couldn’t help but notice how different she was now from when you first met her in the House of Wind. Her body had filled out, soft flesh hiding the brittle bones that used to stick out from underneath her pale skin. For Nesta to be relaxed enough to be this close to you as a huge change. She was not on edge, body tense and flinching with every shift in movement. Even when you had tentatively held her hand or brushed your knee against hers while in the Night Court, she seemed afraid of the contact, always tensing before relaxing into you.

Now, she showed no signs of anxiety. You knew that physical touch was not something that Nesta was used to, but you could tell through the bond that she was comfortable doing it with you.

“What are you thinking about right now?” Nesta asked, noting your silence.

“You.” You said truthfully.

She snorted. “Care to elaborate?”

“You’re different now.” You admitted, choosing your words carefully.

But her voice was curious, not defensive as she spoke. “How so?”

“I feel like you’re more… you. You’re not putting up a wall anymore. You seem more comfortable in your own skin, that’s all.”

You felt Nesta rest her cheek on the top of your head. “I do. You’ve helped me with that.”

You shook your head. “No, Nesta. That was all you.”

“Perhaps. But you being there by my side throughout all of this has helped.”

You hesitated before asking the question that had been lingering in the back of your mind for a while now. “Do you have any regrets about doing this?”

A moment of silence filled the room. Part of you had constantly asked yourself if you were dragging Nesta into your plan too much. As much as you knew she wanted out of the Night Court, to switch courts so quickly after having her entire life uprooted by the Cauldron was a drastic change.

“No.” Nesta said confidently. “Not for a second. I have no desire to return to the Night Court. While I will always love my sisters, it is clear that they care about their image more than what is truly best for me. I have no place there in their little found family, and that does not bring me any sadness. Now, I am free to make my own decisions free of their scrutiny, and that brings me comfort. So no, I don’t regret taking this journey with you.”

You closed your eyes, the rhythmic stroking of Nesta’s fingers through your hair making you tired. “We have to talk about Cassian at some point. About all of us, about what comes next.”

You felt Nesta sigh. You knew she didn’t want to talk about Cassian, and neither did you. But he was convinced that he is Nesta’s mate, something that could potentially bring a threat. If he invoked a blood duel, Eris would certainly win with his new power as High Lord. But you? You stood no chance against the Lord of Bloodshed.

“You’re right.” Nesta said slowly. “But I think we need to wait for Eris before we have this conversation. It involves him, too.”

“You’re right. When will I get to see him?”

“He said he’d come here after his last meeting. He should be here soon.”

You sat up, reaching for the plate and grabbing another chocolate covered strawberry. You felt a bit of the chocolate smear on the side of your lip as you ungracefully popped the strawberry into your mouth, attempting to keep the expensive duvet free of mess.

“You’ve got something on your face.” Nesta snorted.

You rolled your eyes at her. “Wow, I didn’t notice. Thank you so much for pointing–”

Your sentence trailed off as Nesta reached down and slowly wiped the chocolate off your lip with her finger. You watched with wide eyes as she then took that chocolate covered finger and closed her lips around it, sucking the chocolate off. Her blue-grey eyes never left yours as she did so, making your body tingle.

“That was one of the top five hottest things you've done.” You said, causing Nesta to raise an eyebrow.

“Oh, you have a list now, do you?” She murmured, amusement across her sharp face.

You shrugged nonchalantly, but heat flooded your cheeks. Truthfully, everything Nesta did was absolutely mesmerising to you. It was almost impossible to actually think of five moments that stood out. “Maybe.” Was all you mumbled in response.

Nesta simply chuckled, then leaned down and sensually pressed her lips to yours. You moaned into her mouth, melting into the touch. It was different from the tender two kisses you shared previously – ones that were gentle and soft, as if you were both afraid that the other would disappear from in front of you at any moment. No, this kiss was more passionate, sending goosebumps up your arms despite the warmth of the room. She tasted like chocolate and wine, and it took all your self control not to simply melt right there and then.

When Nesta eventually pulled away, she cradled your head back into her chest. You were so comfortable, encased in the expensive fabric of the lush bedsheets and cuddled up against Nesta’s side. A distinct knock on the door snapped you back to consciousness. “Three guesses who that is.” You muttered groggily.

Nesta snorted, but called out, “Come in, Eris.”

Surely enough, the door swung open to reveal Eris. His red hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he was dressed in his sleepwear of a white tunic with long, billowy sleeves tucked into loose brown pants. Despite the casual look, the soft hum of power coming from the male made it hard to mistake him as anything other than a High Lord.

“How’d you know it was me?” Eris asked, closing the door behind him as he sauntered into your room.

“Oh please, you knock like a pampered princess.” You said playfully, popping another strawberry in your mouth.

Eris narrowed his eyes at the delicately placed bowl of melted chocolate on Nesta’s thigh. “Please tell me you’re not getting chocolate on my expensive bed sheets.”

“You’re High Lord, can’t you just use your fancy new power to remove any spills?”

“Ugh, please don’t remind him he’s High Lord.” Nesta insisted, rolling her eyes. “It’ll get to that pretty head of his and he’ll become even more insufferable than he already is. Besides, he hardly needs reminding with how much he throws his new title in everyone’s faces every two seconds.”

You laughed, causing Eris to look down at you from where he was standing at the end of the bed, pressing a pale hand to his chest with mock hurt. “Your cruelty wounds me,” He sighed. “I do not know what I did to deserve such treatment.”

“You make it too easy.” You patted the space next to you on your other side. Eris scoffed, but peeled back the covers and crawled under them anyway, sliding right next to you and resting his back against one of the many pillows behind you. You leaned forward and grabbed another chocolate covered strawberry, bringing it up in front of his face. “Here you go, oh mighty High Lord.” You said dramatically.

The male raised an eyebrow, but kept his amber eyes on yours as he leaned forward and gently took the fruit from your hand with his mouth, lips brushing your fingers ever so slightly. You suppressed a shiver at the sensation, trying to ignore Eris’s moan as he savoured the rich chocolate. You straightened up, no longer leaning against Nesta’s chest but instead still keeping your shoulder pressed against hers.

“Delicious.” Eris muttered after swallowing. “And exactly what I needed after today.”

“What did you get up to today?” You asked. “Or any of the past three days, since I haven’t been allowed outside of this room to see for myself.”

Eris shot you a light glare. “As both of us have explained to you several times, you are in here because we need to wait until things settle for a few days. Right now, you are vulnerable. Both physically and in terms of your position as an unwed and unengaged female. While I intend to eliminate anyone with the same mindset as my father regarding females of your status who refuse to change, they might not yet be revealing themselves. Many have tried to challenge me these past few days, and every one of them has been turned to ash. I need to ensure nobody will come after you.”

You sighed, knowing Eris was right. A female like you without ties to a male would be an easy target for those looking to cling to Beron’s ways. You briefly wondered exactly how many people Eris had slain in his first few days of being High Lord, but dared not ask. “Did everyone believe the story about Hybern assassins being responsible?” You chose to ask instead.

“Mostly.” Eris said. “Those who seemed suspicious have been dealt with. But it matters not. I am High Lord now, and the court knows that if they dare question how I came to be in this position, they will not live to see the next sunrise.”

“So what happens now?” Nesta spoke up. “With the three of us, I mean. And we still have the Night Court to deal with, not to mention Cassian.”

“Given your sister’s situation with her pregnancy, I believe the Night Court will be occupied by that for the next while.” Eris said. “She is due soon, is she not?”

Nesta nodded, but said nothing.

“Can we help Feyre?” You asked hesitantly, feeling Nesta’s turmoil through the bond. While she did not part on good terms with her sister, you could tell she felt anguish at the idea of Feyre dying because of this pregnancy. And as much as you disliked the High Lady, you did not wish such a fate upon her either.

Eris spoke with caution. “I have spoken with our best healers. And to be truthful, yes, we have the means of removing the baby surgically rather than having little Archeron try to deliver the child naturally. But I do not think it’s a question of whether or not we can, but whether or not we should.”

You blinked in surprise, feeling Nesta tense beside you. “What do you mean?” You asked. “If we have a way to save her life, why not use it?”

Eris shifted slightly, turning on his side to face you. “Because it is leverage we can use against them. A bargaining tool. We could promise to save the High Lady’s life on the condition that they leave us alone, permanently. That they are never to enter our court without permission, including the brute.”

You bit your tongue. Nesta was silent beside you, her expression unreadable. “Nesta?” You asked quietly, pressing your arm into her. “What do you think we should do?”

There was a minute of silence before she straightened her spine, grey eyes finally landing on you and Eris as she spoke. “The Feyre I knew who went under the mountain is gone.” She said, her voice like steel. “Once she accepted the mating bond, she changed. Rhys changed her. The Feyre I knew would never just sit by and let her mate make the decisions for her. The Feyre I knew would never have sent me to be locked up if Rhys hadn’t planted the idea in her head first. She used Elain as a bargaining chip to strong arm me into doing her bidding. If she has no qualms about using our lives for her own gain, then I have no issue doing the same with hers. But under one condition. Feyre has to agree to it. Hers is the only opinion that matters. Rhys cannot accept the terms, only she can. It will be her choice, and her choice alone.”

Eris nodded respectfully. “Very well then. Once everything settles further over the next week or so, I will set up a meeting with the Night Court and we can propose our bargain.”

“Cassian can’t be there.” Nesta said suddenly. “I can’t see him. Please.”

“We won’t let him try and take you,” You grabbed her hand, holding it reassuringly. “I promise.”

Nesta bit her lip, worry lining her features. “He thinks we’re mates. I don’t trust him not to try something.”

“Cassian does not stand a chance against us.” Eris said calmly, fiddling with the emerald ring on his finger. “Although I am curious as to why he is acting like a mated male when Estelle said he is not mated to you, Nesta. There’s something else at work here, maybe having him at the meeting will allow us to figure out what it is.”

Nesta hesitated, but exhaled softly. “Fine. Cassian can be there. But the dragons will come to the meeting.”

“They will be delighted.” Eris chuckled. “I am sure they will happily eat anyone who dares protest against our lovely mating bonds.”

You went still, the soft sheets of the bed suddenly stifling. Aside from your brief moment after saving Lirilla, you hadn’t yet acknowledged or discussed your mating bond with Eris yet. With Nesta it was easier, as you had plenty more time together to mull things over. But with Eris, it all happened so fast. The High Lord duties swept him away from you before you could even propose the discussion.

“Eris…” You said carefully after a few moments. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew we were mates?”

At first, the male did not reply. Eris Vanserra usually had a witty reply for everything, a silver tongue that came up with a response within a half second no matter how unprepared he was for the question. So you turned to face him. Eris’s expression was one of regret, tender sadness in his usually stone cold eyes. But the mask was off. He had no need for it anymore.

“There were so many things happening at once.” Eris said slowly. “I did not know how you would react, truthfully. We all needed to be focused, just until we were safe from my father. I did not want to risk compromising what I’ve been working towards for years. It is selfish, I am well aware. But it is the truth. If you knew about the bond, who knows how different things could have been? And if anyone found out, it would be used against us. I could not let that happen.”

The High Lord swallowed thickly, his slender hand gently coming to cover your fingers as he continued. “I know what a breach of trust this was, little fox, especially after you put your faith in me. And I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it, because I selfishly cannot stand the idea of you hating me for it.”

You inhaled a shaky breath, wetness lining your eyes. You felt Nesta rubbing your back comfortingly, as if she, too, felt your pain through the bond. “I don’t hate you for it.” You said quietly. “I understand your reasoning, I just wish none of this had to be this way.”

Eris smiled sadly. “I wish that very much, too. Although this path has led me to you, to Nesta. So despite everything, I have no other regrets about how things played out.”

“Me too.” Nesta said from behind you, squeezing your shoulder. “It was all worth it to get out of that situation, to end up with both of you.”

Your heart fluttered as you smiled. Even though the past months have been hell, they lead you to Nesta and Eris. Everything you had been through, it was all worth it to get here. Because you knew that even though the horrors you had endured would keep you up at night, you’d have your mates to ease the pain.

But your smile faded as reality sunk back in. “What about the wedding?” You asked. “If you two are getting married, where does that leave me? I know marriage is a sham at the end of the day, and the mating bond is what truly connects us. But I admit that I will not feel like an equal if you two are wed.”

You felt the bed shift as Eris straightened beside you. A hint of a blush came over his cheeks as he coughed before speaking. “Well, I thought of a solution for that. It’s a bit outlandish, and something that would definitely make the majority of this court lose their minds over it. And don’t be afraid to tell me I am a fool for this, Mother knows everyone else will be–”

“Eris.” Nesta said sharply, cutting off the male’s rambling. “Spit it out already.”

You could feel Eris’s nerves in your chest as if they were your own. You had never seen him so flustered before, so unsure of what to say.

“Well,” He continued, taking a deep breath. “It is not unheard of in Pythian’s history for a High Lord to take two wives…”

“You’d want to marry both of us?” Nesta said incredulously.

Eris blushed further, his eyes narrowing angrily at the heat of his cheeks. “Well, it would be a good way to ensure you are both protected–”

“Stop.” You cut him off firmly, squeezing his hand. Eris was silenced immediately, doubt flickering in his eyes as if he were afraid this would happen. “Fuck the political scheming and doing everything for the sake of a plan. We’ve made it this far, guys. It’s time to think about what we want, not what we should do. So, Eris, what do you want?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to have you both as my wives…”

Nesta snorted. “A heartfelt proposal, Eris. Well done.”

Eris shot a playful glare at the female. “Smartass. Watch it, or I’ll leave your finger without a ring and keep (Y/N) all to myself.”

“Oh, please. You’re too obsessed with me to do that.”

“I am afraid you are right, Nesta Archeron.”

The three of you laughed, the harmony of it echoing throughout the spacious room like a song. But Nesta’s serious tone returned, cutting the laughter off. “But seriously, Eris, are you proposing this because this is what you want, or because of the mating bond?”

Eris shifted as he reached forward, taking each of you and Nesta’s hands in his own. The authority of the High Lord rang in his voice as he spoke, his amber eyes meeting Nesta’s blue-grey ones. “Make no mistake, I am happy about the mating bond. But it does not create this desire from nothing. It merely amplifies what is already there. The desire to marry you, Nesta, began the day we danced together in the Hewn City. I knew then that I wanted you as my equal at my side. I wanted you because you were you, sharp tongue and all, not because a mating bond made it be so.”

Eris then turned to face you. “The desire to marry you, (Y/N), began the day you came to me with your plan. I saw your resilience, your brilliant mind, and I wanted you. Not for your magic, or your connection to the Mother. I didn’t even know you were my mate then, or that you possessed a unique power, and I wanted you. My desire for both of you did not come from wanting something from you, or because of a mating bond. You asked me what I wanted, (Y/N), and this is it. I want you and Nesta as my equals, my wives, my High Ladies by my side. If that is what you wish, of course.”

You teared up, seeing Nesta do the same. Eris spoke so fiercely, so passionately it pulled at your heart strings. All this time, you had prepared yourself to see Eris and Nesta marry for political convenience, leaving you on the side with your secret ancient vows to Nesta that could never be shared with the outside world. You had prepared yourself to put aside your feelings for Eris, and your feelings for Nesta, to once again make a sacrifice for the ones you loved.

But you didn’t have to do that. Somehow, along the way Nesta and Eris had fallen for each other. And you had fallen for Eris, and he for you. The bond the three of you shared was deeper than any mating bond – it was a bond of survival, of fighting for a better life. A life you now couldn’t imagine sharing with anyone else.

“I would like that very much.” You said through tears, squeezing Eris’s hand.

“And I as well.” Nesta said softly. “Although I never thought of being High Lady.”

“You are both free to pass on that,” Eris said. “It would simply be an added bonus. But you both have enough power to be my equal as High Ladies, and you would be free to be as involved or removed from court politics as you wish.”

You glanced at Nesta, meeting her eyes. You knew Nesta had never possessed any ambitions to become a leader. She was content to simply exist in her own life, as long as she had control over it.

But this opportunity Eris was presenting could be used to help people. All you wanted was to make Autumn safe for females in a way Rhysand failed to do with his own court. Perhaps instead of relying on Eris to make it happen, you could do it yourself. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” You said.

“Me neither.” Nesta replied, nodding. “If my sister can be High Lady, so can I.”

“Feyre Archeron does not know how to run a court,” Eris snorted. “You’re the sister much better suited to the job.”

“One more thing.” You interjected, turning to Nesta. “Technically, we are already married due to the spell we used to create the daemati bond. But I would like to redo it, with a proper wedding. That way, the world will know that we aren’t just married to Eris, but to each other as well. I want everyone to know you’re just as much mine as Eris’s. If you’ll have me.”

It was not how you could have ever imagined proposing to Nesta, fumbling over your words so casually as if you were suggesting trying a new food for lunch. But it felt right. You wanted to be married to Nesta properly, in the eyes of the world. True, you had known her for less than a year. But you knew in your heart you would want to marry her eventually – why not now while she was already marrying Eris?

Nesta’s lips twitched for a second, as if she were instinctively fighting off her smile. But then her face loosened, and she allowed her smile to stretch across her cheeks fully. “Of course I’ll have you, you fool.” She said softly. “Without a shadow of a doubt.”

“In that case, I shall inform the priestess so she can modify the ceremony.” Eris said, grinning in a way that made your heart sing. “If my father could see this, he would lose his mind. As will many members of the court, probably. Having two High Ladies married to each other and me will be a lot for them to comprehend.”

“It’s actually possible, right?” Nesta asked him. “For all three of us to be married?”

“There is no law or religious text that prevents it, my dear.” Eris reassured her. “It will be legitimate, I swear.”

You smiled, another tear of happiness slipping down your cheek. “So this is really happening, we’re all getting married?”

Eris nodded. “Yes, love. We are. And we can take as much time as we want to plan the wedding so it’s exactly how we want it, not how my father wanted it to be. It will be a day about all three of us.”

It was like a heavy boulder had been lifted off your chest. All of the anxiety of the past few weeks was gone, replaced by pure happiness at the idea of marrying Nesta and Eris. Before, the talk of a wedding filled you with dread, a reminder that you were engaged to a cruel male who would delight in torturing you however he could. The idea of a wedding made you feel sick, and sad at the same time knowing you’d have no say in any of the planning.

But with Eris as High Lord and your soon to be new position as High Lady, everything would be different. You would be able to pick out your dress, the flowers, the cake, everything. After months and months of having no control over your life, you were finally taking the reins back.

You wrapped your arms around Eris, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “Thank you.” You muttered.

When Eris pulled away, his amber eyes burned into yours. It ignited something in you, making your blood sing as his voice dropped as he spoke. “I know by tradition I am supposed to wait until the wedding to kiss my brides. But I would really like to kiss you now. Both of you.”

“Fine by me.” You said, your heart racing and drowning out the sound of your own voice.

Eris smirked, his hands coming up to either side of your face to cup your jaw. Towering over you, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to your own. Instantly, it was like a tidal wave of lust surged through the bond, as you melted into his mouth. It wasn’t the seductive, claiming kiss you had expected an Autumn court male like Eris to give. It was just as sensual, but softer, like a warm hearth rather than blazing wildfire. It was a kiss of love, of promise for a better world.

Your hands brushed the fabric of Eris’s tunic as he kissed you, and you felt the male shiver beneath your touch. When his lips finally abandoned yours, you let out an involuntary whine at the loss of contact.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Eris purred, his thumb stroking your cheek. “There will be plenty of time for more later.”

The High Lord then turned towards Nesta, taking her hands in his own. You watched as he leaned forward, kissing her with the same tenderness he had with you. Nesta’s eyes fluttered closed at the contact, her body relaxing. They were like a scene from a painting. Nesta’s wavy locks contrasting with the fiery straight hair of Eris, their heads angled so perfectly as their lips moulded together with longing.

As you watched your mates kiss, you felt no jealousy. No anger. No feeling of exclusion. You only felt love – happiness that the two people you cared for most loved each other just as much as you loved them.

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runariya · 2 months

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Three-Shot: Infinity (JJK) • 3

pairing: alien!Jungkook x human!reader genre: alien!AU, dystopian!AU, dark, angst, S2L, eventual fluff and smut warnings: MDNI, 18+, distrust, panic attacks, trauma response, anger issues though kinda entitled to..., physical pain and bruises, fluff, fluff, and fluff, Jungkook can purr, mention of Stockholm syndrome, discussion about bonding, kissing, huge size difference, smut, big cock Jungkook because duh..., oral (f. receiving), squirting, unprotected sex (please wrap it if you don't aim to get preggy folks!), knotting, bonding, please lmk if I forgot something word count: 4.361

a/n: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

This story was inspired by the song 🎵Jaymes Young - Infinity🎵

01 • 02 • MASTERLIST

The door of the dock closes behind you with a heavy hiss as you're dragged inside Jungkook's spaceship, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. His grip is unrelenting, digging into your arm, still tender from his earlier grasp. The beeping of the door closing sounds ominous, ticking like a countdown to your impending doom. Contrary to your panicked assumptions, Jungkook doesn't drag you to the cold, sterile white room. Instead, he steers you towards the cockpit, his steps purposeful and heavy. He forces you into your seat, buckling you in with rough, swift motions that leave no room for protest.

His face is thundering with fury, contorted with anger so intense it seems to carve lines into his skin like lightning. A vein throbs violently at his temple, and his jaw is clenched so tightly you can almost hear his teeth grinding. The bioluminescent markings on his body pulse fiercely, bright white now, the calming blue completely vanished. The sight fills you with dread, certain he’ll unleash his wrath upon you the moment you're in space, far from any possible witnesses. The very thought sends chills down your spine.

Jungkook rises to his full height, his presence looming over you like a dark storm cloud. He strides to his seat at the control panel and begins punching buttons with a force that’s clearly fuelled by his rage rather necessity. The ship hums to life, the vibrations beneath not comparing to the power he holds over you. You don’t dare look at him directly, but out of the corner of your eye, you see his fists clenching and unclenching, his jaw still ticking with barely restrained anger. The tension in the cockpit is palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.

As the ship ascends, breaking free from Thraxor's orbit, Jungkook activates the autopilot with a swift, angry motion. Within seconds, he unbuckles himself and strides towards you, his shoulders tense, his eyes ablaze with fury. You shrink back into your seat, your body instinctively curling in on itself in a vain attempt to shield against the inevitable onslaught. His wrath feels like it's going to crash down on you with the force of burning lava, and you are sure, in that moment, that you won’t make it out of this alive.

Jungkook's voice explodes in the confined space, "What were you thinking? Are you mental?" He starts pacing back and forth, his steps heavy and agitated, his hand repeatedly raking through his blue hair in frustration. Each pass through his hair seems to fuel his anger, making him look more disheveled and ferocious. You don’t dare meet his gaze, the fear of provoking a physical response paralysing you.

"You could have died! You could have been taken! Do you think so little of me that I would trade you for anything in existence? And to a Silvex of all species!" His voice rises with each accusation, a storm of emotions crashing over you. "I've never done you harm, but clearly, I've been living in a fantasy, thinking you trusted me." Every word, every increase in volume, sends a jolt of terror through you, the prelude to your punishment setting your fear ablaze.

Abruptly, Jungkook halts his frantic pacing and spins to face you, his eyes burning with intensity. The sudden stillness makes your breath catch in your throat, your heart hammering as you brace yourself for the inevitable. "Why did you run? What the fuck did I do wrong?" he demands, his voice a raw mixture of hurt and anger. The words hang heavy in the air, and you’re too petrified to respond, your mind consumed by the dread of the pain you’re sure is coming any second now.

"Look at me!" Jungkook’s voice reverberates through the small space, a command that feels like a physical blow. You flinch, pressing yourself deeper into the seat, though you know there's no real escape. He strides toward you with fury in every step, kneeling down abruptly and seizing your arms. His grip is firm, one hand on the bruised limb, sending a sharp jolt of pain through you that you manage to hide. "Look at me," he repeats, his voice dropping to a low, insistent tone.

Your eyes snap up, locking onto his intense gaze. You suppress a whimper, the pain in your arm throbbing in time with your racing heartbeat. His eyes are a swirl of emotions, more than just anger. In the depth of his gaze, you see panic and a raw sadness that you hadn't expected. His grip, though strong, feels less like a threat and more like a desperate plea for understanding.

As you're forced to look into Jungkook's eyes, the intensity of the emotions you find there throws you off balance. The fury is present, but it’s the panic and sadness swirling beneath the surface that dominate his gaze, emotions so uncharacteristic for him that you feel a pang of confusion and shock. His eyes glisten with a barely noticeable film of tears, his struggle to control them evident in the way his expression tightens and his breathing hitches.

"Someone could have taken you. How am I supposed to protect you from harm if you sprint full force into it?" His grip tightens again slightly, the pressure sending a shockwave of pain through your already bruised arm. You flinch involuntarily, a small, pained whimper escaping your lips as you try to pull away from the agony.

At the sound of your whimper, Jungkook releases you as if scalded, his eyes widening in shock as he takes in the bruises on your arm. He curses under his breath, standing up abruptly and leaving the room in a rush. You take the brief respite to steady your racing heartbeat and ragged breathing, the adrenaline still surging through your veins making it difficult to calm down. But as Jungkook returns, your nerves flare up again, a fresh wave of nausea washing over you. The years of survival instinct are hard to shake off; the tiniest incident still sends you spiralling back into a state of heightened alertness and fear, a deeply ingrained habit that you can’t easily break.

Jungkook kneels before you again, his demeanour noticeably more composed than it had been just minutes earlier, yet the sadness lingering in his eyes remains palpable. With gentle hands, he unscrews a tube of ointment, squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers before carefully applying it to the bruises mottling your arm in angry shades of red and blue. The cool ointment soothes your inflamed skin, but it’s the unexpected tenderness of his touch that surprises you the most.

His voice, now soft and melodic, reaches you, "I'm sorry I hurt you. I forgot about my strength and your fragile body. It shouldn’t have happened. I...I can’t promise it won't happen again, but I promise I’ll be more thoughtful." The sincerity in his tone is disarming, chipping away at the walls of fear you’ve built around yourself.

The apology catches you off guard. In all your life, no alien, least of all a Nepturian, had ever apologised to you. Tears well up in your eyes and begin to fall silently down your cheeks. Jungkook notices your tears and his expression softens even further, a tenderness in his gaze that feels like a balm to your battered soul.

"You're safe with me. I’ll protect you with my life, you hear that?" His words, filled with a gentle promise, seep into the cracks of your heart, easing the pain and fear that have taken root there. The adoration you see in his eyes is unlike anything you've ever experienced, and it stirs something deep within you.

"I'm sorry," you sob quietly, the emotional and physical fatigue weighing down on you as the adrenaline finally begins to ebb away. You slump into yourself, the exhaustion taking over as Jungkook continues to tend to your injuries with a care and compassion that both confuses and comforts you.

Jungkook finishes treating your arm with careful precision and begins to rise, but your uninjured arm instinctively reaches out, your fingers clutching his shirt in a desperate plea. He looks down at you, his eyes wide with surprise, and then meets your gaze. You don't dare look up, fear and uncertainty keeping your eyes fixed on the floor. Gently, he loosens your grip and leaves the room, returning shortly without the ointment.

His footsteps are steady and calm as he approaches you. Standing before you, he carefully slips his arms under your thighs and back, lifting you with a gentleness that belies his earlier anger. You tense momentarily, unsure of his intentions, but as he carries you to his seat and places you on his lap, holding you securely with one arm while the other deactivates the autopilot, a sense of safety washes over you.

As you nestle into his warm, strong chest, the tension in your body begins to dissolve. For the first time since the human race ended, you feel truly safe. Jungkook’s protective embrace is a sanctuary, and the rhythmic beating of his heart lulls you into a deep, restful sleep. Your body, worn from fear and adrenaline, finally relaxes, surrendering to the comfort and security he provides and you longed for your whole life.

You wake to the steady rhythm of Jungkook's breathing and the reassuring beat of his heart. His strong arms still cradle you securely on his lap, and his hand moves gently over your head and through your hair. There's a low, purr-like sound emanating from his throat, deeper than anything you've ever heard from him or any other Nepturian. It's strangely comforting, and you wonder if it's akin to the way cats purr when they're happy. Your thoughts drift to this curious noise, but they’re quickly interrupted when Jungkook notices you’re awake. He stops stroking your hair, and the purring ceases. You startle, a sudden wave of anxiety washing over you. Is it still alright for you to be so close to him, or has he changed his mind?

Your heart races as panic sets in. The comfortable safety you felt mere moments ago is overshadowed by a creeping fear. You stand abruptly, trying to put some distance between you and Jungkook. But his hand catches your wrist gently yet firmly. “Stay,” he says softly.

You look into his eyes, which are nearly black, reflecting the stars and distant galaxies passing by outside the ship. You always thought his eyes were emotionless, but now that you're close enough, you see beyond the distant facade. There's a depth of longing and hope that you never noticed before. His grip loosens as you remain silent, and he reluctantly lets you go. You walk around his seat to the other side, feeling his gaze following you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

You climb onto his lap again, this time facing the other direction. As you settle back into his hold, his strong arm wraps around you from the opposite side. “I’m more comfortable facing this way,” you whisper, feeling a sense of relief wash over you when Jungkook visibly relaxes at your words. He shifts into a more comfortable position himself, and the soothing purr resumes.

Resting your hand on his chest, you inhale his scent. The whole ship carries his scent, but this close, it’s far more intense and comforting. He smells like what you imagine home should be. You watch his markings pulse in time with the heartbeat you feel beneath your fingertips, each beat confirming your past assumption. Without the fear that usually clouds your judgment, you trace every line of his markings with your eyes, appreciating their intricate beauty.

You know you're being naive, perhaps even reckless, but the comfort you feel from the promise he made is too precious to dismiss. Deciding to savour this peaceful moment for as long as it lasts, you gather all your courage. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you ask in a tentative voice, “Why do you have different markings?”

The purring stops, and Jungkook takes a deep breath, the sigh he releases resonating loudly in your ear. You brace yourself for a negative reaction, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he begins to explain. “Are you familiar with Nepturea Nova?” he asks, and you shake your head. “A long time ago,” he continues, “an ancient prophecy was etched into the sacred stones of the Temple of Luminescence. The prophecy spoke of a time when Nepturea Nova would face a great darkness, threatening to engulf the entire planet. It foretold the coming of a chosen Nepturian, whose markings would differ from all others, symbolising a unique connection to the core energy of Nepturea Nova. This chosen one would be the key to harnessing the planet’s true power and restoring balance.”

Jungkook falls silent, letting you process what he's said. The information is overwhelming, raising more questions than it answers. “And you’re the chosen one?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly.

He hums in response, tensing even more as if he's afraid of your next question or how you’ll react. “And how are you supposed to restore Nepturea Nova’s balance?” you probe further. Jungkook's tension increases, and his markings pulse more rapidly. You lean away from him, searching his eyes that now avoid yours, staring instead at the vast emptiness outside the spaceship. His gaze mirrors conflict and a hint of fear, making you uneasy.

“Jungkook?” you call his name, desperate for the truth rather than being blindsided by it. He clears his throat and finally explains, “The prophecy also mentioned a being from beyond the stars, one who would share a powerful bond with the chosen Nepturian. With me. This being was described in terms that could only be understood as human.”

Panic sets in, and you scramble off his lap, fear clouding your judgment. Jungkook hurries to explain, but his words only send you into overdrive. “According to the prophecy, this human would be essential to unlocking the full potential of the chosen one and the energy of Nepturea Nova.” You bolt from the cockpit, your mind racing with the fear that Jungkook needs to sacrifice you for his planet. You were right not to trust him all along.

Jungkook calls your name, his footsteps echoing as he chases after you. You try to reach your room before he can catch you, but just as you're a few meters away, his next words halt you in your tracks. “You’re my mate! That’s the bond!”

Your breathing is heavy as you slowly turn around, your hands shaking uncontrollably. Jungkook stops at a distance away, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He repeats softly, his heart broken on his tongue, “You’re my mate,___. I’ll protect you for infinity.”

The weight of his words sinks in, and though fear still grips your heart, there's a part of you that yearns to believe him. In the vast emptiness of space, amidst the remnants of your shattered world, perhaps this bond is the anchor you've been desperately seeking.

Months slip by as you and Jungkook traverse the galaxies, each day blurring into the next in a kaleidoscope of starlight and shared moments. At first, you weren't sure whether to trust Jungkook with his revelation of the prophecy and your supposed role as his mate. The idea seemed far-fetched, a desperate myth clinging to the remnants of a world you barely understood. But Jungkook, true to his word, gave you all the space you needed. He never pressed, never forced, responding only to your needs with a patience that slowly melted away your fear.

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself seeking him out more often, drawn to the comfort and safety he provided. You began to spend more and more time on his lap, the place that had come to symbolise your sanctuary. Conversations flowed easier between you, his deep voice a constant balm to your frazzled nerves. Each exchange chipped away at the trauma you carried, and with every passing day, your trust in Jungkook grew stronger. You reflected often on the feelings blossoming within you—wondering if they were born from the safety he provided or if they were simply a byproduct of your circumstances. But even if it was a kind of Stockholm syndrome, you found you didn’t care. Jungkook was attractive, caring, and protective—more than you ever could have hoped for. As the days shot by like the stars outside your ship, you let your emotions flow freely, accepting your fate as it would come.

One late evening, after leaving the bustling planet of Targulais, you find yourself once again nestled on Jungkook’s lap. The sense of safety you feel with him extends beyond the confines of the ship. Whenever you venture out, he never lets you out of his sight, his imposing stature and the species he is, warding off any potential threats.

Tonight, you are both enjoying a kebab-like dish, its spicy aroma filling the small space. You hold yours with both hands, struggling to keep its contents from spilling, while Jungkook handles his with one hand, the oversized food looking like a mere snack in his grasp. You know you’ll be full after just a few bites, a fact that always delights Jungkook as he happily devours your leftovers.

“I assume we’re not bonded yet,” you say, looking up at his profile. “How do Nepturians bond?”

Your question blindsides him, causing him to cough violently. You pat his back, your small hand likely feeling like a feather to him than real help. Once he manages to clear his throat, he simply replies, “Sex.”

A tiny “oh” escapes your lips, and you both resume eating as if nothing unusual has been said. When Jungkook finishes his kebab, you hand him the remains of yours, which he accepts with barely concealed glee, a smile lighting up his face that makes your heart melt.

“What if I don’t want to have sex?” you ask after he swallows the last of only two bites he used.

Jungkook shrugs. “We don’t bond. It doesn’t matter to me.”

You lean away rom him, searching his face. “What about Nepturea Nova?”

His big hand begins to run soothing circles on your back, and if you could purr, you would. “You’re more important to me,” he says, his tone and eyes filled with sincerity that takes your breath away. He searches your face for any reaction, and for a moment, you are too shocked to respond. Just as his hand reaches up to touch your face, you gather all your courage, cup his face with both your tiny hands, and kiss him softly.

It is your first true kiss with anyone, unforced and mutual, filled with positive emotions. Jungkook responds immediately, his touch on your face and back delicate and loving. When you break away and look into his eyes, they shine brighter than all the suns you have ever seen.

“I love you for infinity,” he whispers.

Your throat tightens, unable to voice your feelings yet as verbally as he does. But you know, and he knows too. It is enough. You are enough.

Barely a week passes when you find yourself not just sitting on, but straddling Jungkook's lap. Your first kiss days ago had become the catalyst for your deepening desire. His tongue dances softly in your mouth, the gentle stubble on his upper lip grazing your nose as your breaths mingle with the slight moans escaping you both. Jungkook's purr forms a soothing backdrop, intensifying your longing for him.

Your hands trace the muscles of his torso, his defined shoulders, and his strong arms, his marks that pulse steadily with his grounding heartbeat. His pecs are firm under your fingers, the vibrations of his purr noticeable.

You've been kissing and grinding against each other for the past hour, as if he were your oxygen and you his. You're soaked at this point and don't want to stop. As you reach the hem of his shirt, he stops your hands and breaks the kiss. Panting, Jungkook asks, "Are you sure?"

You nod, trying to kiss him again and resume undressing him, but he stops you once more. "Are you really, really sure?"

You scan his face, noting the fear and doubt in his eyes. But you are certain—you want this, you want him, and you want to be bonded for life with him.

Smiling, you place your hand on his cheek, stroking his cheekbone as you take a breath and finally say, "I love you for infinity, too."

Tears of joy collect in Jungkook's eyes as he crashes his lips onto yours. With one swift movement, he lifts you in his arms. You giggle with a small yelp, not having expected the move, but immediately cross your ankles behind his waist and wrap your arms around his neck. As you get lost again in the sweet taste of his mouth and the soft feel of his blue hair, Jungkook carries you to his room and gently lays you on his bed, crawling over you.

He kisses his way up your body, over your clothes, his big, veiny hands tracing your shape. They start kneading your breasts as his purr intensifies. You moan softly when he kisses and licks your neck, so gently, not daring to leave marks on your sensitive skin.

"Tell me if I hurt you too much, love," he whispers.

You breathe a "yes" as Jungkook slowly undresses himself and then you. He's gorgeous-muscular, strong, and breathtaking. His girthy, long cock stands proud and leaking before his abdomen, pulsating veins running up to its angry red tip, contrasting with his blueish skin. The sight of his tight balls makes a wave of arousal spill out of you onto the sheets, which causes Jungkook's eyes to snap to your weeping hole. You don't feel ashamed at all, his hungry, loving eyes scaling your confidence to another level.

"You're so beautiful," Jungkook breathes out as he lowers his towering form to your cunt, taking a long, slow lick of your juices. He takes his time, eating you out as if savouring every drop. It's the best sensation you've ever had, his tongue strong and heavy within your walls, stretching you out. You know you're near when the purring starts to vibrate on his tongue and his big fingers play with your pearl.

He moves to his knees, looking at you with hooded, lust-filled eyes, his cock bouncing from want and his fingers scissoring your hole. You come undone, squirting all over the bed, his hand, and his cock.

"Fucking hell, __. You're a goddess. Fuck!" Jungkook moves over you, kissing you deeply while continuing to finger you, swallowing every moan you give him. "I need to bond with you. Please let me bond with you."

"Yes, Jungkook. I need you. Please claim me." You run your hands through his soft hair and across his big, muscular back. His muscles flex as he adjusts his leaking head to your entrance.

"Tell me if it hurts, love," he breaths.

You nod, pushing your hips up to signal you're ready. Jungkook pushes forward, his head entering you with a little resistance despite your soaking wetness. He moans loudly as he pushes inch by inch into your tight hole, your walls greedily swallowing him with pulsating urgency.

"You're so tight," Jungkook presses out, his face contorted with the effort to control his instincts. Your walls flutter at his words, taking them as a compliment. When he's finally balls deep, you let out an elongated moan.

Your cunt can't stop fluttering, wanting all of him. He starts slowly pushing back and forth until it gets easier to move.

You learn he's vocal, moaning and grunting melodically with every push. It spurs you on, kissing him more lovingly, moving with him to give him as much pleasure as he's giving you. He caresses every inch he can reach, his tall build enveloping you, making you feel tiny but oh so powerful.

When your moans increase in volume and you feel euphoria vibrating in your veins, Jungkook picks up the pace, pushing his cock into your leaking cunt over and over. The squelching sound echoes in the room.

"I'm close," he moans. "You sure you want to bond?"

Sweat drops fall from the slope of his nose onto your face, and that alone nearly pushes you over the edge. But you restrain yourself, wanting to come with him so badly.

"Yes!" you nearly scream, wanting him to finally make you his for eternity.

Your name leaves his lips in a moan as he finally comes undone. The sight is mesmerising—his eyebrows knit together, his eyes squinting barely open, watching you with unrestrained love. His big cock pulses, his seed filling your cunt as it sucks him further inside, milking him for all he's worth.

"Jungkook," you moan as euphoria overtakes you in an intensity you've never experienced before. It's like meeting him at the bottom of the ocean, where time is frozen and only you and he exist. You feel his knot grow inside you, making you moan and come a third time as Jungkook pants and moans above you.

His markings start to pulsate violently, switching their colour from white-blue to all the colours of the rainbow. He looks ethereal, and you can't stop coming down from your high; the sight is too overwhelming. Jungkook tries to pump the knot a bit further inside you while moaning just as uncontrollably as you.

Then, all the scars littering your body from a time you accepted to forget, start to shine in the same colours as his markings. They dance around your body, transforming to match Jungkook's. He looks down at you, full of love and fulfilment.

"I love you for infinity," he smiles as his cock and knot soften inside you.

"I love you for infinity," you echo, knowing that in this moment, everything is as it should be.

01 • 02 • MASTERLIST

a/n 2: thank you so much for reading! lmk what you think - also: drabble requests and character asks are open

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wutheringskies · 1 year

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Wangxian is that dynamic: Rant Post

I personally think Wangxian is one of the most complete, compelling and near-perfect dynamics to ever be written. Like, think about it. All of our favourite pairings generally include one T (Thinking-type) and one F (Feeling-type), or both Feeling types as they are easier to relate to.

But then you have Wangxian - an ISTJ and an ENTP. Such... annoying personality types.

You have Lan Wangji, who's going to fight your procrastination for you. The guy who's stability personified and Mr. He Is Indeed Better, and then you have Wei Wuxian, who's going to argue his mouth off than take a hint; a little too aware of just how great he is and constantly onto the search for new angles of discovery.

Generally, these sort of personalities are put into the background while an INFP (or whatever) find love. These are the cliche best friends. But never the main leads.

But look at Wangxian!

Look at them being so smart together, sharing the same values. Look at Lan Wangji showing his anger by frosty, cutting words (just a few) or worse... utter disregard for you. The guy's going to glare at you with such frosty chill or go out of his way to ignore you. You're not going to get to him, and it's going to PISS you off.

Then there's Wei Wuxian and it's like...are you getting to him? Or, is he getting to you?? If you argue with him too much about his alleged failure and arrogance and quirks, he's gonna tap into them, and make you feel unstable. He's going to wield his flaws like a blade at you. You're going to just want to avoid him and the snark that filters in through his sunny disposition.

And... look at Wangxian taking the "scientific way" to sex.

"What am I supposed to do?" / I cannot believe I'm asking Lan Zhan for sex advice.

"Relax." / To the point answers only.

Also in the Extra, when discussing their CNC kink they go all the way into the story of how they're going to scene:

"So I'll do this and you resist and then I'll do this."

"Sounds difficult."

"Okay, let's switch positions."

Like... perfection??? Like go, find yourself a partner who's equally as weird as you and have your happy ever after with them: accomplished.

Not just that but the aftermath of the bichen incense burner:

"I have never been treated like this before."

"Mn." (fond smile)

"I'll chop you if you do that again."

"Mn."

Like... how easy is it to communicate ? Without any fears, without any remnant feelings, without guilt - how easily they understand each other.

And not Wei Wuxian showing his love by gifting Lan Wangji a numerous weird things, and constantly talking about exactly what he loves about Lan Wangji. Not Lan Wangji doing every sort of act of service for Wei Wuxian (and Wei Wuxian allowing it), and being calm but not quiet with his words.

"It is as it is" - loving Wei Wuxian is a fact for Lan Wangji, backed up by his actions.

They never go out of their way to think of certain events differently. Perhaps, that's what takes them so much time and 2 life times to get together. Because, hell, it's obvious to us. But you're telling me Lan Wangji wouldn't stand up for anyone who's in the right and framed incorrectly? He totally would. Lan Zhan is just that nice. Similarly, Wei Wuxian is also just that nice.

He took a brand for Mianmian. He couldn't remember her for a minute afterwards. He saved Su She. Twice. He has no idea who Su She is. So, yes. He did a lot of things for Lan Wangji but what is he supposed to be?

I love how their relationship is built upon a pact of no apologies and no thanks. Loving each other isn't a duty, a responsibility or a debt. It is just natural. There's nothing to be repaid. There's only things to discover together.

You don't need to thank me because thanking means you recognize my effort as helping you, but you are not required to - as it is the nature of things. I will help you. You will help me. We will never measure who helps each other more. You don't need to apologize for your actions, because I trust that you will not do wrong unto me. Never by intention.

And, let's talk about how they gravitate towards each other ?? Lan Wangji sitting in Gusu thinking about Wei Wuxian and his lotus seeds and stems theory. Wei Wuxian sitting in Lotus Pier thinking of Lan Wangji. Analyzing every word the other has said, thinking back to all that they have done for each other, lingering not on the pain they have caused each other but the happiness, and you know, that they'll be able to talk about the pain, through the pain, because they are people rooted in the present.

I imagine just how insane it would be for Wei Wuxian, the no golden core until the age of 9 to head disciple to one of the strongest cores to the reason why Yunmeng Jiang win every night hunt event at Discussion Conferences, to lock swords with Lan Wangji and feel, "Ah, this is an equal. This is a new puzzle to be solved. This is a cabbage to be pricked (canon)."

And for Lan Wangji, who's equated insolence and disobedience with poor performance to suddenly come upon someone who appears larger than life, raking up answers and top spots in tests, and duelling as an equal yet never adhering to the rules, finding loopholes and shaking up Lan Wangji's whole dimension.

Another thing I really love is how Lan Wangji isn't, like, his uncle. Or his brother. He isn't his uncle in the ways that he allows himself to break rules when they don't align with the rules he considers superior - his moral calling. His hanguang-jun-ness. He absolutely loves rules; he does; and he loves his stability but he's not afraid to embrace change if it is required.

And, Lan Zhan just isn't his brother. He doesn't like you? Trust, you're gonna know. He thinks you're stupid? It's going to be translated across. He's not going to appease you, or make his presence or his wishes lesser to comfort you. He is his own person (which is so similar to how Wei Wuxian is; like poor boy was punished all the time for being himself, at Lotus Pier by Madam Yu, and yet he never downplayed his talents. He never bowed down.)

And I think it's obvious just how well Lan Wangji knows how worthless words can be if they're not followed with actions. Similarly for Wei Wuxian, he speaks a lot. But he does do what he speak. Protect Jiang Cheng? He will. Fight for Lotus Pier? He will. Protect the Wens? He will absolutely.

Thus, you see, as a couple they will never have to face those sorts of arguments where someone seriously states how they feel about A event but behaves differently when they can do something about it. As a couple they will never have to worry about the other not being themselves. Compromising is one thing - pretense is another. Wei Wuxian compromises and doesn't try to break rules. Understands that he's going to insult Lan Wangji's position by acting out. Lan Wangji compromises and breaks some rules for him. They both compromise and take care of each other's needs and habits to cohabitate together successfully, and at the same time, there's no pretense. No lying. No manipulation. No "I'm fine when I'm not."

Think of them going to night hunts together, with Wei Wuxian's easy brilliance and Lan Wangji's easy dependency. Like that guy, is strong and capable enough to protect Wei Ying. He knows that. Wei Ying knows that. The cultivation world knows that.

Think of how both of them are such healthy adults and loving to children. Lan Wangji isn't a cold dad and Wei Wuxian isn't an irresponsible one. They're both so very capable.

So, my point is - Wangxian is perfect. I will die on this ship.

#wangxian #mdzs meta #does this count as meta #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #lan wangji #being perfect #lan wangji redeems istjs #canon wangxian #my meta #my essays #my thoughts

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