#Every day is a struggle ever since I found this exists

[thetriumphantpanda]

baby, it's cold outside | joel miller

Summary | Patrolling with Joel is always easy, he's your friend after all, but when a snow storm forces you to stop halfway, you're both faced with feelings that you'd both rather ignore, but with nothing but time, talking about them is your only option.

Word Count | 4.2k

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings | Explicit 18+. A snow storm and a cabin with a nice, warm fireplace. Unspecified age gap. Explicit smut - unprotected PiV (don't do this, pls be smart), oral sex (F), size kink if you squint, dirty talk, two idiots who love each other, some negative feelings towards the holidays but nothing else I can think of!

Authors Note | A huge thank you to the wonderful @hellishjoel for setting the 12 days of Pedro up and asking me to take part - this was so much fun to put together and I hope you all love it as much as I do!

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Thank you to the wonderful @saradika for the divider!

Despite having lived in Wyoming for years now, the winters were still a surprise to you. Icy cold winds, frosted windows every morning, thick downfalls of snow almost daily and a struggle to get warm no matter how many layers you wore. Some would call it picturesque, and you suppose you could see it, everywhere you turned in Jackson at this time of year, even though it was against the backdrop of the end of the world, it looked like it could adorn the cover of any Christmas card or be the setting for any Christmas movie. It didn’t matter, because you hated it either way.

When the tree went up in the centre of town, and the lights got switched on, it only served to remind you how solitary you were. How you existed mainly entirely on your own. No family, barely any friends, always the talk of the gaggle of girls who would whisper to each other whenever you passed and start laughing to each other, or the boys who always wondered why instead of hanging around with people your own age, you opted to spend it alone, or with someone who was pushing sixty.

Because if there was a single person in this Godforsaken town that you could class as a friend, it was Joel Miller. Quiet, closed off, unapproachable until you chipped away at his hard exterior, just like you in so many ways, it was actually sickening really. You liked Joel, ever since Tommy had put you two together for patrols when Maria had given birth, it was like you’d found someone who finally understood your need to be alone.

Patrolling outside the walls gave you peace, let you leave your loneliness behind for a while, just you and the ground beneath your boots, the feeling that you were doing something wrong, were less of a person because of your lack of friends and relationships left behind at the gate. You’d proven yourself capable more than enough times for Tommy to realise you were an asset. You’d saved more than enough people with your good aim and quick trigger finger, been ruthless in getting rid of raiders who strayed too close to your safe haven, and he knew your need for solitude, which is why he trusted you on these longer routes, on the more complicated patrol rotations, the ones that would get you out of Jackson for a week.

You surmise that’s probably why he chose to pair you up with Joel. In the two years you’d patrolled together, you’d come to realise that he needed that solitude just as much as you did. A way to leave behind being a father at the gate and remind himself of exactly who he was before. Out here, walking side-by-side next to you, he wasn’t Ellie’s dad, he wasn’t the man who still woke up in cold sweats remembering the heavy weight of his dead daughter in his arms, or that man who had lost almost everyone he’d ever cared for along the way, he was just Joel. Joel, who was more comfortable cradling a rifle in his arms than he was his infant nephew. Joel, who preferred comfortable silence instead of filling the quiet with talk. Joel, who, even when you suspected he hated you at the start, would have protected you to the death no matter what.

You were similar, far more than you’d like to admit, and as the weeks and months had drawn on, and you’d moved into being more comfortable with each other, he really was one of those things you’d wanted for so long. A friend. Someone to rely on, someone to drink with at the end of a hard patrol route, someone who made sure you ate when it was the last thing on your mind, someone who fixed the hole in your roof and put new planks of wood on your porch when you almost fell through it one day, someone who confided in you about how hard he found being a parent again, someone who opened up to you when things started to sour with Ellie. A friend.

He was also someone, in the last six months, that you suspected wanted to be more than your friend. It had started small, with things any good friend would do. He would offer you his arm when you walked during the winter so you wouldn’t slip, started packing double lunch so he knew you’d eat when you’d go out together, but then it was the hand on the small of your back through town, or the way he’d sit close to you in the bar, knees knocking against yours just so he could put a hand on your knee to apologise for getting too close.

And it’s not like you didn’t see that in him either. For a man who was almost sixty, he was incredibly handsome, able to do unspeakable things on patrol that neither of you would talk about to anyone else, strong in a way you didn’t think you’d ever seen before. Sure, his hearing was shot in one ear, his middle soft with age, and his hair and beard peppered with grey hair, but Joel Miller was a sight.

But, what if you’d read his signals wrong? What if his kindness and that warm hand on your knee was just him being a Southern gentleman? You throw yourself at him and he doesn’t feel the same, what happens then? You lose one of the very few friends you’ve ever had, and that’s somehow worse than knowing you’ll never know what the feel of his skin is like under your touch or what it sounds like when he moans your name for you.

The patrol route is brutal this day, wind and snow making it hard to see anything in front of you. You and Joel had to shout loudly to each other in order to hear anything, so when you stumble across the cabin, halfway through the route, you both decide that it’s best to head inside, get warm and wait out the worst of the storm before carrying on. Safer that way, is what Joel said, but you think it’s got more to do with the cold on his joints than the safety. Even at your younger age, your bones were certainly aching.

The wind whips a flurry of snow into the abandoned cabin when Joel pushes the door open, ushering you inside quickly, shutting the door quickly behind the two of you before more snow can follow you in. He sets his rifle down near the door and his backpack on the worn, moth-eaten couch, kneeling in front of the fireplace.

This particular cabin is a regular stop on this patrol route, an agreement between the residents of Jackson who frequent it to keep it stocked with firewood during the cold season. You silently note to thank whoever had patrolled before you for stacking the fireplace so all Joel really needs to do is set fire to the scrunched paper dotted through the wood to get the warmth of the fire flooding the small front room.

“Reckon we’re here for the long run,” Joel grumbles, holding flat palms up to the flames to warm his hands, “Ain’t no way we’re walking anywhere in that.”

And he’s right, the light of the day is fading fast and even in daylight, the blizzard had been a nightmare to traverse. It’s not like you’re wanting to rush back though, you sometimes wish you could pack everything up and come out here for good, live in your solitude until the end of your days, but for now, just a few more nights away from the place that reminds you just how alone you are will do.

You settle down on the couch, trying to burrow further into the coat around your body, not bothering to take your gloves or your hat off until the flames of the fire are stronger.

“Come sit closer,” Joel murmurs, motioning with his hand for you to sit on the floor next to him, “Warm up a little.”

You slip down from the couch and scoot along the floor until you’re sat next to him. Joel reaches over and takes hold of your wrist, gently pulling off your glove, “They’re damp,” He states, reaching for your other hand to do the same, “Take your coat off too, you’ll get a chill otherwise.”

Working to unzip the front to pull it off, whilst Joel throws an extra few pieces of wood on the fire, you settle a little bit closer to the flames, feeling the warmth start to seep through your other layers. He stands, taking your coat and his, hanging them on either end of the fireplace to dry out a little, then he sits back down next to you, although a little closer than he had been before, so close that you can feel the heat of his body next to you.

You take a moment to steal a look up at him, his body larger than yours, towering a little next to you, but in the glow of the flames he’s fucking breathtaking. You get lost in tracing his jaw and the hook of his nose with your eyes that he’s turning his head to face you before you can turn away from him. He catches you with that small smile that is saved only for his family normally, Ellie, Tommy, sometimes Maria, and now, more often, you. So you smile back at him, let the warmth lick through your body, and before you realise it, he’s leaning his, broad shoulders bumping yours as his face gets closer, and God, it would be so easy to let him do it, move your face towards him, press your lips to his and burn it all to hell, but as he inches closer, that pit is opening in your stomach, bubbling anxiety and dread, so as he inches closer, you have to stop him.

You bring one of your fingers up to press against his lips gently, watching as he purses them against your touch a little, but then his eyes open when you speak, so softly, so quietly that he almost missed your plea, “Please don’t.”

It’s like you’ve burnt him with the way he not only drags his face from you, but his whole body, putting so much distance between the two of you that you almost cry. He clears his throat, running his hand over his face, “Right,” He mumbles, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” You insist, not meeting his eyes though, “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Stupid of me,” He shakes his head, “Just thought-” He sucks in a breath and pushes it out on a sigh, “Thought maybe you’d feel the same, but it was stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid, Joel,” You sigh, finally turning to him, “It’s okay.”

“Makes sense,” He shrugs, eyes boring holes into the flames in front of you, “I’m old, too old for you to want me.”

“It has nothing to do with you being too old for me Joel, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about that.”

You expect him to drop it, like he often does with these kinds of conversation, the ones that involve feelings, but he doesn’t.

“Then what is it?”

“Well, it has nothing to do with your grey hairs or your creaky fucking knees, that’s for sure.”

He’s looking at you with a look that says to get fucked, hurry up, tell him the real reason for all this.

“I could be shit in bed for all you know.”

“Well that’s easy to rectify, just need a little practice.”

It makes you snort, “Can we be fucking serious for a minute, Miller?”

“You’re the one who said it first.”

“What happens when it goes tits up?” You ask, “When you get bored of me, or realise I’m not what you thought I was, what happens then?” He opens his mouth to respond to you, but you beat him to it, “I lose my best friend, that’s what happens, the only person in this Godforsaken world that I have, and I don’t want that, I don’t want a world where I’m without you.”

“Who says it’s going to go tits up?” He counters, “Baby, I’m old, I ain’t gonna go running off, I just want somethin’ good, somethin’ happy, and I want that with you,” Just like you had done before, he starts talking again before you can add something, “Put your faith in somethin’, darlin’,” He’s moving back towards you now, shifting closer, “Put your faith in, me.”

It sounds so easy when he says it like that, because you had once before, without even realising. Let him in, let him get close, to know everything you’d been through, share everything he’d been through. You let him sit with you late at night in the summer, strumming his guitar on your porch, he lets you share his whiskey when you need it.

“I’m still gonna be your best friend,” He urges, that warm palm resting on your knee, “That ain’t gonna change, we’re just gonna add to it.”

And for some reason, it snaps, all of your good judgement and everything that was holding you back. His face is cradled in your palms before you know it, your body straddling his lap as your mouth slants over his, a surprised gasp swallowed by your mouth as his lips open against yours, his hands coming to rest on the globes of your ass through your jeans, pulling you closer, chest flush to chest as you soak this in.

Hands dropping to the collar of his shirt, you start to slowly unbutton it, mouth still against his, tongue tasting him as your fingers push button after button through their holes until you can push it from his shoulders, drag his arms from it, drag his undershirt from it’s place tucked into his jeans.

Joel gasps when your hands make contact with the skin under it, fingers still slightly icy from the cold, but that too is swallowed by your mouth, as is the moan that drags from your throat when he bucks his hips into yours.

He pulls away from your lips, forehead pressed to yours as you both breathe deeply, “Don’t seem shit in bed so far.” He chuckles.

“I was fucking with you Joel,” You smile, punctuating it with a roll of your hips into his, “I’m a delight in bed.”

“Prove it.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“This is the floor Joel,” Which earns you a squeeze to your ass, “I’ve never fucked someone on the floor before.”

Before you know what’s happening, he’s flipped you over, your back pressed to the dusty wooden floor, his body looming over yours, fingers picking the button of your jeans apart, pulling the zipper down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down your legs, underwear along with them too, before they’re thrown behind him somewhere, forgotten as he parts your knees, legs spread, exposed to him, and you think you might die from the way he looks at you. You bury your head into your shoulder, trying to escape his gaze as he drags his thumb along your folds, growling when he feels how wet you are just from his mouth on yours.

You’re vaguely aware of the sounds of his feet hitting one of the armchairs behind him as he lowers his chest to the floor, hands pulling at your hips, your back dragging across the wooden floor as his mouth presses a single, feather-light kiss to your clit. The smallest of touches to your body has your back arching into him.

How long has it been? Not since you fucked someone, because in the grand scheme of things that hasn’t been too long. No, how long has it been since someone actually made you feel good? Years, you think. Too long. Too long since sex was anything more than just stress relief, pressed against the brick wall by the Tipsy Bison, letting someone fuck you so you could feel something, giving them the bragging rights of fucking the town outcast in return.

This is different. So different. Joel is slow with it, parting you in front of his face with his thumbs, tongue swirling through the slick you’re not even embarrassed about now, tasting you, drinking you in, before he drags his perfect mouth up, lapping gently at your clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Taste so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He coos against your skin, his praise making you preen, hips chasing the feeling of his mouth on you, he chuckles at your desperation, “How long’s it been since someone made you feel good, huh?”

Your fingers tangle in the curls on his head, dragging him back down to your cunt to silence him, “Too long.” Is all you offer as he feasts on you.

Tongue swirling, lips suckling, fingers digging into the skin of your hips, dragging you slowly but surely to the edge, the fire in your blood no match for the fire against your skin. He’s fucking good at this, knows exactly how to listen to your moans, the way you pull at his hair when he does something you like, collecting the little gasps and hip movements until he’s working a pattern on your pussy that makes you feeling like you’re going to explode, combust, maybe even die a little.

“Don’t stop,” You urge, breathless, sheen of sweat settling across what skin of yours is exposed to the flames near to you, “Gonna - fuck Joel - gonna cum.”

That’s when he pushes two of his fingers into you. Hooking them up inside of your cunt, your legs dropping open further than you thought possible as he works you and works you. You’ve gone quiet, letting out only short breathes when holding them in makes your head light, fingers so tight in his hair that you think it’s probably hurting.

Then, you think you find God, right there on the dirty, dusty floor, when the coil snaps inside of you. Your back arches off the floor, thighs clenched around Joel’s head as his tongue continues the flicks against your clit, ignoring the high-pitches whines of too much, Joel listening instead to the movement of your legs, the way your entire body convulses until you truly are spent for him.

Joel pushes himself up onto his knees, dragging his undershirt over his head, pulling his belt through its loops as you’re sitting up, dragging the upper portion of your clothes off, naked on the floor for him, the flames from the fire keeping you warm, even if your nipples do pebble and peak against the cold.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel breathes out as your hand settles on your pussy, fingers dragging through the slick to lazily move over your clit, “I wish you could see yourself right now, baby,” He crones, pushing down his jeans, cock springing free, immediately clasped in his fist, movements slow as he watches you touch yourself, “Pretty as a fuckin’ picture.”

His body falls forward, coverings yours, but this isn’t what you want. Hand on his chest, you’re pushing him back, “Wanna ride you, Joel.” You whine.

Like a kid on Christmas, he’s on his back in seconds, jeans and underwear pooled around his ankles because if you’re not sinking down on him in the next few seconds, he’s going to scream. You settle your thighs on either side of his hips, his cock, heavy and throbbing against his stomach. He’s watching you, as you take the base of him in your hand, line him up with that aching core of yours, head notching into you, where you just keep him for a moment, let him stretch you as you ground yourself with palms on his chest, sinking down, inch by inch until he’s fully buried inside you, warmth wrapping around him, just like the warmth from the fire against his skin.

You start moving your hips, his cock so deep in you he swears if he put a palm on your lower belly, he’d feel himself through your skin with the way you’re grinding against him, head thrown back, mouth dropped open. He wishes he could take a photo of this. He doesn’t think he’s seen a nicer sight in his life.

“It’s a lot, ain’t it baby?” He coos, hands on your hips, guiding your movements, he knows he’s big, been told enough times through his life, but the way you’re slow, getting used to him inside him, has him on the verge of spilling inside you already.

“So big, Joel.” You whine, leaning back now, hands on his knees which have moved up, his feet planted on the floor now, and God alive, if he thought you were a sight before, you’re a fucking masterpiece now as you start bouncing on his cock.

He can’t help himself, he is only a man after all, his hands trailing up the curves of your side, taking hold of your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, listening to the way you sing for him. Somehow, he finds core strength from somewhere, pushes himself up, one hand behind him to prop him where he is, as his mouth sucks a nipple into his mouth, rolling that pebbled peak with his tongue, your arm wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself against him, hips still working against his, finger tangling in the curls near his neck, keeping his mouth anchored right where it is.

Joel pulls off you, a wet smack from his lips as he looks up at you with those beautiful brown orbs, “Feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” He praises, “So tight around me, like you were made for me.”

“Wanna feel you,” You moan, head dropping against his shoulder, “Wanna feel you come for me.”

He’s wrapping his arms around your back, dragging you down with him as he rests himself back on the floor, your chest pressed to his as he finally takes control. Feet planted on the floor with your teeth digging into his shoulders, he fucks up into you, the cabin filled with nothing but breathy moans and a lewd smack of skin as he pounds himself into you. In an ideal world he’d focus on making you come again, feeling you clench around his cock as you fall apart would be incredible, but he thinks there will be time for that later.

He’s so fucking close, you can feel it, the way his fingers are gripping t every inch of skin they can reach, the way his hips are faltering and how your name is more of a feature on his lips. You let out a surprise squeal as he flips you both, your back now to the ground as his cock slips out of you, his fist replacing the wet heat of your cunt as the warmth of his cum splashes across your lower belly, a howl, not unlike an animal, falling from his mouth as he paints you, claims you as his own with those ropes of cum across your skin.

When all is said and done, and he’s taken in the sight of your skin splashed with his spend, the two of you lying in front of the fire, one blanket dragged from the bed on the floor to soften the harsh wood, another pooled around both your hips, this feels like home. Both you and Joel, led on your side, watching each other, and the flickering light of the fire bathes you both in orange, in warmth.

His hand traces your face, thumb dragging across your bottom lip as he leans in to kiss you. Hours later, with harsh wind and snow still swirling outside, he brushes a thumb across your nipple, your hand reaching down between you to find him hard again. He puts you on your back this time, creaky knees be damned, slides his cock into your aching cunt once more, fucks you slowly, the entirety of his weight pressed against you. That orange glow almost convincing you that this was before, when things were normal, romantic even, as his lips leaves tiny bruises across your skin.

When he’s marked you once more as his, cum splashed from your pussy to your tits, he lies back down, the broad expanse of his back to the dying embers of the fire, your back pressed to his front, his arm snaked under your neck, urging you to sleep, and as you drift off, Joel’s hot breath against the skin of your ear, his other arm draped loosely over your waist, you pray that the snow is just as bad in the morning, because if it were possible, you want to return even less now, want to remain huddled next to Joel, on the floor, for the rest of your life.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Brains & Barbie!

PAIRING: Michael Gavey x fem!BIMBO!Reader

WORDS: 1,515.

SUMMARY: Polar opposites attract right? It’s science. Who knew you would fall so helplessly in love with the math geek of the century…

WARNINGS: female receiving (fingering), swearing, degradation kink, some praise kink, edging, cum play, p in v sexual intercourse, swearing.

A/N - it has been a hot minute since I wrote for an Ewan character, so forgive me I’m a little rusty.

this fic is dedicated to my soul sister @sahvlren as it was her bday recently, and she requested this specifically. I love you so very much, and am so thankful to have you as my dearest friend, boo. one day we shall meet, but for now we get freaky online! enjoy xoxox

+++ in light of the recent drama unfolding in this hellsite, I thought some good ole' smut would do no harm, right?

forgive me I shall edit this properly, but I must sleep for my night shift lol

You weren't exactly the perfect pair to exist, nor would any like minded person think it best to put you two together in a roo, let alone become intimate. And yet, so effortlessly you both meshed rather well...Michael, your "Norman No Mates" boyfriend [as he enjoyed putting it], was quite a mathematical genius. His family were somewhat stable and well off, however, he rejoiced in the idea that he worked his way into the academy, where as your situation was quite the opposite. Your father had attended Oxford and graduated, as did your grandfather, who also sponsored and funded many of its restorations and renovations. The ancient establishment owed many of its complexes to your family name, and hence, granted you a position in their literature field, warranted you did try to maintain your grades above a credit average, trimming it with a pass even...

You had tipsily stumbled upon Michael at some college party: he stood by some dark corner, a drink in hand and the other in his pocket, before you had ignorantly walked into him, mindless to your surroundings from intoxication. You had either gone to refill your drink or was seeking the bathroom [you struggle to remember the fine details of the night you had met], laughing obnoxiously at some joke your friend had uttered, before walking into the man that would ultimately make you weak in your knees.

"S-Sorry-" You softly slurred, spilling your drink on the floor, a droplet landing on your heel.

At first it sounded as though an apparent swear seemingly seethed between his curved lips, halting himself before cursing you further, as he adjusted his thin framed spectacles, marvelling at you.

"Y-You alright, love?"

The next thing you knew, you found yourself hot and heavy, heated bodies, grinding against one another, as Michael teased and etched his impressively long cock, at your silky folds. His mouth latched to your unmissable cleavage, as he suckled on your breasts like a new born babe to its mother's teat.

No man had ever made you feel more desired, and yet a fool at his beck and call. He uttered despicable taunts and jabs at you, whilst simultaneously, worshipping the ground you strut on.

"The sluttiest girl on campus just couldn't resist the cock of a geek, huh? Making her even more stupid than she is, look at you... Pathetic baby."

His words stung a compelling sensation, and yet you craved for more of his undivided attention. And seemingly, Michael granted you every fathomable bit he could muster. You were the girl beyond his dreams, needless to say, he never thought he even stood a chance with any girl, of that matter. And he as a man, beyond your tastes. However, the tension was palpable between you two, the chemistry undeniable.

You often found yourself unwittingly seeking his company, even risking your privilege in the confines of his dorm...

"How long left, Mikey. I'm s'bored!" You whinge, as you fidget and reposition yourself sprawled on your boyfriend's single-sized bed. Flinging your flip phone to the side, without a care for consequences [your parents would simply purchase a new one for you]. Despite being in somewhat sheerly covered attire, your ass cheeks just peaking through beneath your skirt, Michael barely felt the temptation to see [if he was even aware of your current outfit].

"Wait. Need to finish this equation."

His stern, unwavering voice and unfazed focus ontp the paper and textbooks before him, made your eyes roll with such annoyance, defeatedly sighing. The repetitive sound of his pencil thudding at his head, and your rhythmical humming, filled the silent void.

"Ugh- Michael, you should have just told me to not come- There was a party, I could have been at—"

"Do you not have an essay due by the end of the week?"

You contemplate for a few, solid seconds, before realising there was truth to his words. You did have an assignment due in the imminent days to come, and you had yet to begin.

"W-Well, yes... But I was hoping you would help me, handsome."

"Is that so?"

His attention still remained down, fixated on the text before him, yet his tone elevated, intrigue plaguing his words.

"I-I mean I'll still write it out, y-you just need to guide me—”

Swiftly he swivelled his entire body in the desk-top chair to turn unto you, a cheeky grin plastered across his chiselled face.

"Baby, you can barely do your times-tables, you think you can write an whole essay? Adorable..."

"But I sure know how to fuck you good. What man of your calibre can have a girl like me, say that to a man like you, huh?"

A darkness tinged in his piercing blue orbs, intently watching your every move and gesture, as he notices your hand hovering between your thighs, before disappearing beneath the short, skimpy skirt.

"Mhmm—"

Your thoughtless moans began to echo between the confined blank walls of the dorm, squirming against the neatly folded fabrics of the bed.

"And what do you think you're doing, exactly?"

Two digits continued to delve deeper between your folds, drawing slow, circular motions as your thumb remained rubbing at your clit. You had been biting your lips, only to release a moan, as you intended to respond obediently.

"M-My boyfriend's a bore, s-so I'm t-taking matters into m-my own h-hands—"

"Is that so?"

Without so much as a warning, a force pried your hands out from beneath your walls, your wetness coating your fingers and knuckles, glistening in the dim light. Within a few seconds, the emptiness between your legs vanished, as a rougher, more sizeable host embedded itself between your velvet folds.

With roughness, and vastly more pace, Michael's lengthy, slim digits began to etch deeper and deeper inside of you, pumping his fist in and out of you, as his other hand laid to rest against the mattress, propping him upright. Your hands immediately laid at your sides, firmly clenching the quilt between for some steadiness.

"Does my little slut have no patience? Brain to numb to think, she just wants to be fucked all the time, huh?"

"Y-Yes—"

Just as your ecstatic cries and moans grew more frequent, Michael's breathing sounded heavier, feeling your warm wetness making a mess all along his hands and the crevices of your entrance.

"This slut could've bent over to anyone. No-No, but she did for me, yeah? So needy for cock, she didn't even learn her times tables, huh?"

"I-I need you, M-Mikey—"

A third long digit shoved itself deeper into your tight hole, panting beneath your grip as you felt yourself fervently clench around him.

"That's right, princess. You need me. No man is worthy of this pretty cunt of yours, I earned it."

As you felt yourself progressively lose all your senses. gaining traction to the heat stirring below, Michael's sudden release felt cathartic. Watching him lick and lap every inch of your wetness lingering over his hand, made you feel delectable. Your lustful eyes searched below, for a fleeting second, you caught the growing commotion in his pants, as the bulge was evident, its shadow against the restricted fabric. As he tasted the last drop, a snarky smirk expanded across his handsome face, before beginning to unbelt and unbutton his beige trousers.

"C'mon princess, spread those legs like you always do, like you were born to do. Such a fucking whore, that's all you were meant for. Meant for me."

Aligning himself so effortlessly perfect against your, his reddened tip blushed against your sight, teasing your silky folds. His veins throbbed with excitement, almost palpable between your sensitive entrance, its length girth suddenly plunging itself ever so slowly inside of you.

With a first, rough shove, delving himself completely inside of you, his balls hitting at your rear, an escape of a low grunt vibrated against his lips, that remained hovering over your soft skin. Michael kept himself steadily propped atop of you: with each thrust, equally time and paced, his weight began to drop over you, applying the pressure down from above with his cock inside of you.

"The most perfect cunt, for the most perfect girl. And it's mine."

"M-Michael—"

"S-Stastically we a-are an anomaly, b-but my princess f-found me, like a good girl—”

“A-Anomaly?"

A deep, growling chuckle escaped his lips, his pace growing sloppier as he attempted to articulate: despite Michael having you weak in the knees in bed, he was still somewhat new at the act of sex. Struggling to juggle with the need to fuck and the need to explain, his lean, tall figure cowering over you, his eyes shut with ecstasy momentarily, before opening to glare and marvel at you breathlessly. Your lips latched onto his neck and collarbones in between your moans, intently sucking at his tender flesh, desperate to taste him, to leave remnants of your physical love, strewed across his body. Desperate to savour every inch of him.

"An odd couple, baby. B-But you take me so fucking well—"

"Mhmm—"

"There's no going back now, Princess..."

credit for divider - @/prettypixels-love

[ghoulsbounty]

Could I possibly ask for a second part to What Happens Tonight, where maybe he gets a little more vulnerable with the reader and we see some of those walls being broken down? (But not fully, I still LOVE the angst of him not wanting to give himself fully to someone and how the reader struggles with it)

What Happens Tonight pt 2

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Ex-Vaultie!Reader (fem)

Summary: After the events during the radstorm, you confront the Ghoul about his true feelings.

Warnings: smut (18+), riding, a lot of grinding, fingering, the gloves stay ON, feeding Rad-X, mutual pining, emotionally stunted Cooper, slight soft!dom Cooper, miscommunication, angst.

Word Count: 3.1K

A/N: Thank you for all the love received on WHT part one, and thank you anon for specifically requesting a part two. I had a lot of fun with this one and delved more into the smut but still tried to make sure Cooper kept his boundaries. I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

👉 Read part one HERE 👈

It had been several weeks since you sought refuge in the vault, a period marked by the moment you surrendered yourself entirely to Cooper. The memory of that night left a persistent ache between your thighs, serving as a constant reminder of the intimacy you shared and the emptiness you now felt. Despite this, Cooper had not addressed the matter with you since then. Whenever you attempted to discuss what had come to be known as "the night of the radstorm," he would abruptly turn away, his body rigid and his gaze averted. The tension between you grew with each passing day, the unspoken words creating a chasm that seemed impossible to bridge.

By the time you both composed yourselves the next morning, the sinister weather had come and gone. While the storm had left a physical mess outside, the emotional turmoil between you had created an even greater one. An awkwardness had settled over your relationship, forming an invisible barrier that hadn't existed before. You longed for this tension to vanish as the storm had, but it persisted, clinging to your interactions like a second skin. This discomfort coloured every conversation, every glance, leaving you both trapped in a web of unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

You supposed this was the consequence of crossing that boundary, daring to entertain the notion that you and the Ghoul could be more than mere traveling companions. Your relationship had always been one of convenience, a mutual arrangement for survival. But that night had altered everything—at least for you.

Constantly, you replayed the moments in your mind: the intimacy you shared in that confined space, the way his hands moved over your body with a mix of urgency and reverence. You wondered if you had misread the signals, if the heat of the moment had clouded your judgment. The way he touched you, the way he held you—it all felt so real, so genuine. Yet now, it seemed like a fleeting dream, dissipating in the harsh light of reality. Each touch, each whisper of that night lingered in your thoughts, making you question the line between reality and illusion, and leaving you to ponder whether the connection you felt was ever truly mutual.

But weren't you the one who assured him it would mean nothing? And yet, here you were, longing for him every night as you lay on your bedroll, the void he left behind more palpable than his presence ever was. You couldn't help but feel the emptiness, the way his absence seemed to echo within you.

You found yourself watching him when he wasn't looking, searching for any sign that he felt the same way, that he missed you too. But he remained closed off, his walls higher than ever. Each glance in his direction was met with an unyielding façade, leaving you to wonder if he had already moved on or if he, too, was silently grappling with the same confusion and longing that plagued your thoughts.

You tried to focus on the tasks at hand, to distract yourself with the daily challenges of survival. Yet, every silence between you, every avoided glance, only deepened the chasm that had formed. The tension was a constant reminder of what had changed, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else.

You found yourself wishing for another storm, another night where you could both let down your guards and be vulnerable with each other again. But you knew better than to rely on such whims. Reality rarely afforded such convenient opportunities. You had to face the growing divide head-on, even if it meant confronting the possibility that the connection you craved might never be rekindled.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast long shadows across the wasteland, you found yourself alone with Cooper once more. The silence between you was heavy, almost suffocating, and you knew that you couldn't go on like this. You needed to address the elephant in the room, to find some way to mend the rift that had formed.

"Cooper," you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. "We need to talk about what happened that night."

He stiffened at your words, his eyes flickering briefly to yours before he looked away. "There's nothing to talk about," he replied, his tone clipped and guarded.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. "You know that's not true," you countered, looking down at him from where you stood. The warm glow from the crackling fire highlighted his features as he leaned back against the wall from his position on his bedroll.

Cooper's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions, but he remained silent, staring into the flames as if searching for answers. You stepped closer, the soft crunch of your boots on the gritty floor the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

"That night," you continued, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest, "I said whatever happened wouldn't matter but... I was wrong. It meant something, and I need to know what it meant to you."

He sighed deeply, running a hand over his bald head before meeting your gaze. "You talk too much," he said in a biting tone, eyes downcast as he kicked his boot out in frustration.

"And you don't talk enough," you said defiantly, lightly kicking at his boot when he still refused to meet your gaze despite the scoff that escaped his lips. "You can't just ignore me, or pretend it didn't happen. If you regret it... well, I can handle it. I'm a big girl, Cooper."

"We'd be stupid not to regret it," he admitted, his hands occupied with reloading bullets into the bandolier on his lap. "Doesn't mean I didn't like it," he added quietly, almost to himself.

His words left you feeling conflicted. On one hand, you were relieved to hear that he had found pleasure with you, perhaps as much as you did with him. But the admission of regret lingered, casting a shadow over the memory. He wanted you to feel the same remorse, but you couldn't bring yourself to do so.

"I don't regret it," you declared, your voice firm. "I wanted you then, and I still want you now. Whatever it is that's holding you back, that's between you and your own conscience. But here I am, with you, and I want you."

His eyes snapped to you then, dark and swirling with emotion as he glared up at you. "Have you been taking those pills?"

You looked at him, confused, searching your memory for what he meant until the Rad-X pills surfaced in your mind. You remembered taking one that night after he'd left them on the bed, then discarding them into the recesses of your bag and not thinking about them since.

"What do the pills have to do with anything?" you asked, still bewildered.

Cooper's jaw clenched, frustration etched across his features as he averted his gaze once more. "Supposed to take 'em before exposure," he muttered, "but you were going wild, locking those thighs 'round me so damn hard. I might not seem like it, sweetheart, but I'm just a man," he added, his voice carrying both irritation and a hint of amusement. 

Your cheeks flushed at his words, recalling the intensity of the moment when you ground down on his cock as he attempted to pry you off him, moments before he relented and filled you with his hot load.

"If you've been taking them regularly," he continued, meeting your eyes with a meaningful glance, "you'd likely have developed a fair resistance by now."

Accepting the Rad-X felt like a symbolic gesture, a token of protection offered in the aftermath of that intimate moment, meant to erase any lingering traces of radiation from him. You appreciated his small attempt at aftercare, yet couldn't shake the feeling that it was tinged with regret for his own actions. Now, as he sat before you, finally meeting your gaze after what felt like an eternity, a realization dawned upon you: his offering wasn't just a momentary solution, but a precaution for the future. It hinted at a desire for something more.

Your heart swelled with the realization, a mixture of relief and hope before reality dawned on you. "I haven't been taking them," you admitted, your voice soft but steady. "I didn't know that you wanted me to."

He rolled his eyes at the whine that cracked your voice, discarded his bandolier on the ground beside him before lifting his hand towards you with a curled finger in a beckoning gesture. Almost instinctively, you found yourself drawn towards him until you were standing above him, your legs positioned on either side of his as he gazed up at you. His gloved hands traced up the sides of your legs, pausing at your hips before firmly grasping them and tugging you down to your knees, so that you straddled him. A gasp escaped you, a blend of surprise and anticipation echoing in the air.

"Don't get it, do you?" he murmured, his voice a rough whisper against your ear as he pulled you closer. "I wanted to get you ready for me."

You shivered at his words, the intensity of his gaze boring into yours as you leant back to look at him. "Cooper, I—"

"Shh," he interrupted, his hands tightening on your hips, grounding you. "You're still talking too much."

His lips captured yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue pushing for dominance over yours as he held you tight against him. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders for balance, feeling the rough fabric of his coat beneath your fingertips as he dragged your clothed cunt against the growing erection straining his dirty pinstripe pants. The friction sent sparks of pleasure through your body, your hips moving instinctively to grind against him, seeking more.

Cooper's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he guided your movements, his kiss growing more demanding. You moaned into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his insistent lips. Every drag of your body against his made you wetter, your desire pooling between your thighs and soaking through the fabric of your underwear.

With a swift motion, he tugged your shirt over your head, tossing it aside before leaning in to capture one of your nipples between his teeth through the thin fabric of your bra. You gasped, your back arching as his hands worked to unclasp the garment and free your breasts. The cool air hit your skin briefly before his mouth was on you again, sucking and nipping at your sensitive flesh.

Your hands fumbled with the lapels of his coat, desperate to feel more of him, to erase the barriers between your bodies. He helped you, shrugging out of the heavy garment and discarding it with a careless flick of his wrist. You were pleasantly surprised when he let you undo the buttons of his waistcoat, shrugging it off before he stopped your fingers at their decent on his shirt.

"It stays on," he told you gruffly, a hint of vulnerability in his voice that urged you to accept his decision without a second thought. You nodded, your hands running over the fabric of his shirt and across his chest, down his abdomen, feeling the hard muscle beneath the material, the scars that told stories of his past. He groaned at your touch, his hips grinding up against you as his hands slid down to the waistband of your pants, deftly undoing the button and zipper.

"Lift up," he commanded, and you complied, rising just enough for him to peel the garment down your legs, your underwear following shortly after. You were completely exposed to him now, the cool air of the room making you shiver as he gazed at you with a hunger that made your pulse race.

"What a sight," he said, his voice rough with need as he pulled you back down onto his lap, your bare cunt pressing against his clothed erection

You whimpered, the heat of him so close yet so far driving you crazy. "Please, Cooper," you whispered, rocking your hips against him. "I need you."

"I know," he replied with a wicked grin, his hands gripping your ass and guiding your movements, the friction of his pants against your clit making you see stars. "Been needing you for a long time now. Long before that night."

You nibbled on your lip, the waves of pleasure cresting within you almost overwhelming as you surrendered to the sensation of him beneath you. "What kept you so long?" you gasped, your hand instinctively caressing the nape of his neck, your thumb tracing the contours of the thick muscles there.

He chuckled, leaning into your touch, his gaze lingering thoughtfully on your face. "Just honing my patience," he replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You huffed in exasperation at his calm demeanour, your hands moving to undo the buckle of his belt and the buttons of his pants. As you attempted to reach for him, your hand was swatted away, and you tried again, only to be met with the same resistance. "Hey, cut it out," you scolded him, a mix of frustration and desire evident in your tone.

"You'll get it, don't you doubt," he teased, his voice low and playful. With a swift movement, one gloved hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding their way into your wet heat. A gasp escaped your lips as he penetrated you, his touch igniting a fire within you. Another finger joined the first, and he expertly curled them upwards, hitting that sweet spot inside you that had you burying your face in the crook of his neck with a muffled cry. "Oh, there she is," he declared proudly, a smirk evident in his voice.

You mewled softly against his salty skin, your lips pressing eagerly against the muscle as he slid his leather-clad fingers in and out of you with a delicious rhythm. Each movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, and you couldn't help but rock your hips into his palm, seeking out the friction that made your nerves sing.

You trailed hot kisses along the skin of his neck, feeling his pulse quicken beneath your lips, and then, unable to resist, you bared your teeth and bit down gently. His response was immediate—a deep, guttural groan—as he grabbed at your ass with his free hand, urging you on, encouraging you to ride his fingers with abandon.

Your mind swirled with the sensations of being wrapped around him once more, your movements growing increasingly erratic as you chased the elusive peak of pleasure. He smiled against your bare shoulder, his hand releasing it's hold on your behind to fumble inside your bag that rested beside him as he anticipated your impending climax.

Seconds later, he pushed you back slightly, holding a small brown bottle in his hand. You whined in protest as his fingers slowed to a taunting pace inside you, desperate to regain the momentum you had lost. Your hips bucked instinctively, urging him to quicken the pace once more.

He tapped your cheek lightly with two fingers from the hand that held the bottle, meeting your gaze with a serious expression. "One more move like that, and I'll take them out," he warned, his tone firm but tinged with amusement.

You frowned at the threat but nodded in compliance. Your eyes followed his movements as he deftly unscrewed the cap of the bottle with his teeth, retrieving one of the red pills with his fingers before setting the bottle aside. He held the pill out to you, his gaze fixated on your mouth as he spoke. "Let me see it."

You hesitated for a moment, then complied, slowly opening your mouth and extending your tongue for him. He delicately placed the pill on your tongue, prompting you to close your mouth with another tap on your cheek. As you did, he captured your lips in another passionate kiss, his tongue dancing with yours as he gently manipulated the pill inside your mouth. Finally, he pulled away, leaving a trail of saliva between your lips as he watched you swallow the pill with a satisfied smile.

Your body vibrated at the intimacy, eyes blown as you felt his thick thumb begin to circle your clit, his earlier ministrations continuing as he fucked you hard with his fingers, bouncing you on the palm of his hand. His free hand slid back over the curve of your ass, squeezing firmly as he intensified his movements.

"C-Cooper, please," you began, your voice trembling with need as the heat between your legs intensified, the sound of your wetness filling the quiet room. You dug your nails into his shoulders, anchoring yourself in the overwhelming sensation as he pressed his thumb against your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Almost," he murmured, pushing against the spongy spot inside you that had you hurtling towards the edge. Your eyes rolled back as you gushed into his palm, hot liquid streaming down your thighs as you screamed his name. He smirked, his fingers never ceasing their relentless pace as he stroked you through your orgasm. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he rocked you against him, grounding you in the midst of your intense pleasure. His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, "That's it, let it all out."

When the last surge of your climax had left your body, you slumped against his chest, head nestled in the crook of his neck as you caught your breath. You kissed his neck, running your lips up his strong jaw until you met his cracked lips. He hummed into you, grabbing your wrist tightly when you began to trail it down to the bulge in his pants.

"Easy there," he muttered, his breath hot against your ear. His grip on your wrist was firm, almost possessive, and he held you close. "What's the hurry, sweetheart?"

You regarded him with incredulity, your gaze searching his eyes for any sign of understanding as you boldly voiced your desire. "I took the pill," you stated firmly, your words weighted with intent. "I want you to fuck me."

He chuckled, his gaze briefly dropping before meeting yours once more. "Oh, I know you do," he said, withdrawing his fingers from your sopping core. A whimper escaped your lips as your walls clenched around nothing, longing for the sensation he had just provided. He brought his glistening gloved fingers to his lips, licking at them with a low groan of approval. Then, he pressed the tips of his digits against your parted lips, hooking them inside your lower teeth while holding his thumb beneath your chin.

"Let this be your lesson to take the fuckin' pills," he admonished, his voice carrying a mixture of gratification and warning.

His hands fell away, and you frowned at the sudden absence of his touch. He placed the previously discarded pill bottle in your palm, closing your fingers around it gently before guiding you off his lap and onto your bedroll beside him with a soft thud. Stretching his arms above him, he folded them behind his head, settling further back against the wall as he gazed out at the crackling fire.

"Until then," he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of resignation, "we'll both be practicing a little patience."

[catiuskaa]

audio creak file.mp3 [1:07]

PAIRING! pervy?Chan x roomate!reader

SUMMARY: Chan struggles to make music, and you, his friend and roommate, try to help him when you can. Say, Chan also struggles to keep his cool whenever you’re near… what will you do to help him feel better?

WC: 3.2k

CW: convenient minsung because I say so, angsty(?) (reader is just kinda dense and Minho screams the truth to her), smut: mentions of soft dom!chan, mentions of panty stealing, Chan’s a pervy simp (he’s just soooo down bad), and I just really got carried away writing on my notes thinking about when Channie smiles hearing the creaks in heyday...

A/N: basically, if being inocent was a crime, i’d be imprisioned for tax evasion, lmao. kinda perv!chan thoughts to soothe the iching that the mosquito bites give. have fun!

[☆☆★☆☆]

He let out a frustrated groan, fingers digging into his curly locks in a sign of desperation. He had listened to every single audio sample Changbin had found. Twice. But no, nothing screamed “This is it” to his perfectionist self. And it was getting him fucking desperate.

He wasn’t wearing headphones because of the company he had been with not too long ago since Changbin and Han tried to help him —keyword: try—, and also knowing that you wouldn’t be home for a while meant that there was no one he could disturb, the sounds coming from his laptop not nearly loud enough to reach to the neighbours. He scrolled down the same folders again, wondering when you would be home in the back of his mind.

You and Chan had been roommates for a bunch of years now. You two had met at Han’s birthday party thanks to Minho, as he introduced you, one of the first people he had ever danced with and even won competitions with to the leader of the Korean boyband.

You clicked almost instantly, sharing anecdotes from each side of the industry. He, a famous idol, and you, a backup dancer for many groups in different companies.

It was unknown to both of you that Han and his cat-like soulmate had tried to matchmake you that day, as you just stayed like close friends. Minho laughed at Jisung as they both returned from your shared apartment the day you moved in, like two years after. Now that you’d split the rent, considering neither of you spent that much time home to pay a large amount, you paired up.

“At least they like each other, silly,” he mentioned, his tone of voice sounding soft, a smug smile on his face. He was so winning the bet.

“Nooo!” Han whined, much like a toddler would when toys were taken away. “Those two are meant to be, Hyung. They are literally each other’s type!”

“Well, I don’t think they’ve noticed,” he chuckled, thinking about what he would buy with the ten bucks Han would owe him. And Minho would’ve been right.

But then, the sex dreams started.

“Chan, I’m back!”

He blushed, quickly shoving those thoughts into a bottomless pit in his mind.

“How you doin’?” You grinned, your head popping inside his room, leaving your bag on your own, next to his, before coming back and leaning on the door frame.

Your wet hair made the top of your summer dress fabric somewhat sheer, his eyes trailing your figure before clearing his throat.

“I’m stuck,” he admitted, dimples on display as he smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve been looking for a sample I thought existed, but maybe I just made it up in my head.”

“That does sound like shit,” you mentioned, leaning down just enough to rest your forearms on the back of his chair. He felt tiny droplets falling from your hair onto his shoulders and back, making goosebumps trail all over his body.

“But how… how was the… the swimming pool?” He quivered, trying to hide the flustered quiver in his voice. And failing, hoping you wouldn’t notice.

“It was good! It felt sooo nice.” You stretched, whining as you extended your arms, making a mess in Chan’s head, who struggled to hide it. “I’ll go get changed, and then I can help you. Sounds ok?”

“Yeah.” He leaned into your touch when you ruffled his hair, leaving his room.

He sighed as he rested on the back of the chair, arms thrown over his eyes, and swallowed dry. He felt like such a perv, his insides churning and turning whenever you were near, making him feel like a horny teenager.

It all started one night when he woke up in a sweat, hard-on nearly hurting underneath his boxers. Pictures of you still reeling in his mind, legs wide open for him, eyes pleading, begging for release.

Then, two nights after, dreaming about your body pressed on top of him as you straddled him, clenching on him, fighting for dominance in a sloppy kiss.

Later that week, you in that cute summer dress you bought with him, letting him fuck you and manhandle you in his car, the apartment too far, and your bodies too horny that the drive home felt impossible.

Seeing you every day with those thoughts in mind was difficult, sometimes having to escape your sight so you wouldn’t see him getting hard just by you doing the slightest things that weirdly turned him on.

“The one you dream about is back,” you teased, now wearing an oversized shirt and a towel over your shoulders. He gulped as he looked at you, not only for what you had said unknowingly but also because of your shirt, long enough to cover your thighs, giving the illusion that you were almost naked. In his room. Sitting crisscrossed. On his bed.

He felt blood on his cheeks and some running down, headed south. He giggled halfheartedly, the sentence ‘don’t get hard’ echoing in his head.

After playing the samples again, tricking himself into thinking he might have skipped one just so he would keep searching, he started getting frustrated again. But nuh-uh. Nothing.

“Ok, this is trash,” you blurted out.

With a smile on your face, before he could even ask you what was wrong, you grabbed his chair from behind, pushing him far from the computer, saving the files and then closed it with a slap.

“Break time, Mr Producer. We both need a coffee.” He snickered, shaking his head sideways as you both went to the kitchen.

“Can’t say no to that, can I?”

You laughed. “No. Too late, anyways.”

He started getting the milk from the fridge, pouring it on the mugs you handed him, and settling them in the microwave, a small smile on his features accenting his dimples.

“Audio sample related, can’t you just make your own?” You asked Chan, not entirely curious, question directed to find a solution for his issue rather than learning that piece of info.

“I mean, yeah, sure, but it’s simpler this way,” he shrugged, eyes confused about where to look, not daring to stare at you for too long. “If not, I just have to keep recording random stuff, hoping to find something that sounds like what I want.”

“Isn’t that easier? Not like it’s something you can brag about, but there’s a ton of creaking shit in this place,” you pointed out thoughtfully. “Like… that!”

In the blink of an eye, you crossed your way until you were directly in front of Chan, and you turned around, leaning on the counter before you as you opened and closed the cabinet's door on the wall.

“See? It creaks,” you said from above your shoulder.

But just when you stood back on your feet, you realised how close you were to each other. And it hadn’t helped that when you leaned towards the cabinet, your shirt had followed along with your body, letting Chan see your lack of pyjama pants, instead being welcomed by some cute cotton panties. Ones he knew well because, uhm… he uh… may have used them for a wrong purpose.

Yeah, fuck, he had come on those.

You hadn’t realised how little space had been between him and the counter and attributed that to your head, not knowing that Chan had unconsciously moved towards you, like metal to a magnet. You wiggled on your place, your personal space suddenly far away from you, caged in Chan’s presence. He stopped your tiny motion by gripping your waist, letting out a gasp, blushing. He turned you around so you wouldn’t feel his hardening cock on your upper thighs.

When you both locked eyes on the contrary, the tense atmosphere shot up, turning even thicker when he rested his arms on the counter, at your sides, thumbs casually stroking short lines on your waist.

No words were said as you got lost in his brown eyes, deep chocolate-coloured orbs, not needing any kind of golden or honey stripes on them as they drew you in, gorgeous eyes so raven that it was hard to distinguish where the iris was. Then, your eyes trailed off at his mouth, your breath hitched, rose-coloured plush lips so enticing. He licked them, and you swore you heard him swallow dry.

You pressed your body on him, getting closer and closer, and suddenly, he let out a small whimper. The sound made you shiver, heat pooling in your lower belly. He blushed furiously, not daring to move from his place. You could feel it, feel him.

The sound of your phone chiming in your room made you both aware of the situation —and position— you were in. You got shy, quickly letting him have his personal space back, both of you missing the other’s warmth on your skin as you blurted out something that sounded like “gotta go walk my fish” as you run to your room, slamming the door close, frowning as soon as you were alone.

“Fuck.” Both of you said at the same time, having the same thoughts.

“I fucked up.” Chan stared at the hot mugs on the counter, both waiting for someone who had run away.

[☆☆★☆☆]

“He’s just scared, girl,” Han said through the phone after letting you ramble and blurt about what had happened barely twenty minutes ago. “I promise, if you make him feel safe, like he won’t lose you, he’ll melt on your hands.”

"...I don't think so," you mumbled, picking on your nails.

"You called me because he got hard," he sighed, not bringing his statement to a conclusion just because it was so painfully obvious. "I know you're the only one who thinks otherwise."

You were about to reply with a snarky comment about how he should just 'stick simping about Minho' when you started to hear said man speaking to Jisung, and then with all the calm in the world, ignored him when he went straight to the phone.

"...Minho?"

"Leave my boyfriend alone and go fetch yours," he replied as you heard Han groan in the back. It was almost as if you could feel him deadpanning from the other side of the phone.

You frowned even if you had a smile on your features, not taking the comment completely seriously. "Ok, rude. What a meanie."

"Jokes aside." You heard him breathe in from the other side of the phone. Oh boy. "The interminable teasing and bickering between you and Chan were amusing at first, but it's getting very stale and surprise, fucker, you live together!" He paused, clicking his tongue. "So, why don't you two cut the bullshit and admit your sexual and non-sexual feelings for each other?"

"My what?!"

"This is getting old really quick, goddamnit." You could feel him getting worked up, not just because of his tone but because he kept ignoring Han, whose comments echoed at the back of the phone call.

But Minho was serious. He was not gonna get cockblocked for ten bucks. Not tonight.

"You're getting kinda off-base, buddy!"

"Oh, it's almost one o'clock, fucking spare me!" He grumbled, getting slightly angrier. "Yeah, I get it. It's Chan. He can be a dick sometimes because of his severe self-esteem issues and how he doesn't know how to communicate his feelings all that well. But I kinda think he reminds you about that other guy you dated in our dance team, who was an absolute son of a bitch, and we can agree that you deserve to be with someone who's not that complicated or whatever, but still, you can't get Chan out of your head, can you? Don't answer. We know it." He interrupted you, unable to speak as you were just getting bombarded with facts you didn't want to deal with.

"But you? I've known you for years, yet you're still being a dumbass. You're behaving like a baby who'd rather act tough than show her true feelings 'cause last time, you got hurt! Owie," he cooed, tone still angrily mocking. "And now you're just dancing around the other in this pathetic act you're tryna put up to hide your pent-up feelings, SO, AGAIN, for my sake, either deal with it and stop bitching my man about it, or get over with it already!"

"Minho, I-!" You turned silent as you heard a beeping sound coming from your phone.

He hung up.

You stared at the screen, eyes almost out of place, as you muted the device, letting it vibrate with the unread texts Jisung sent, apologising in every way he knew.

"A baby?" You muttered, the word almost sickening in your mouth. "I am not a baby!"

You laid back down on your bed, rolling on your sides, Minho's words echoing in your mind as you cursed under your breath. Almost unconsciously, you stood up, left your room and approached Chan's as if wanting to enter just to get his confirmation regarding his allegedly existing feelings for you.

He startled you when he closed his door, meeting you in the hallway, his eyes glued to yours as soon as he saw you.

"Oh. Hey." You mentioned awkwardly.

"Hey," he said, tensed-up shoulders visible due to the lack of sleeves on his shirt. "I just... uh..."

"I... wanted to say that, uh..."

"I am sorry if I... uh..."

"It's ok... I uh... don't... I mean... I know that you can't really uh... control... it?"

You could almost hear Minho's laugh in your mind.

"Right," he sighed. You smiled reassuringly, and he did the same in an uneasy stance.

"Right. I mean, for all I know, it could happen for whatever reason."

"I uh, kinda, I guess."

"But never mind. I uh... 'm glad we feel the same way."

You both smiled sheepishly and headed to your respective rooms.

Chan sighed, hurriedly getting back to bed, wishing to get weird ideas out of his mind, not bothering to check his computer again. He rolled in bed, hand anxiously travelling through his hair so frequently that it was starting to get greasy.

He frowned, passing his hands through his face, the scene in the kitchen crossing his mind again, his already weak excuse for not being so clearly attracted to you crumbling when he remembered the eagerness he thought he had seen in your eyes.

He stood up again and went to open the door just to go check, because what if he hadn't just made it up in his mind?

But then, he met you right in front of his room.

Before you could escape or come up with anything, he approached you and pecked your lips, feeling his heart skip ten beats when you pushed him away.

His eyes locked into yours, a sight of contentment leaving his lips as you grabbed his shirt and pulled him back in, smiling in the kiss. It heated very quickly, a sloppy kiss with all tongues and teeth, both fighting for dominance. You went to get the edge of his shirt, but instead, he gave you a light smack on your thighs, and you jumped, legs crossing around his waist, arms around his neck as he guided both of you into his room, closing the door with a kick.

The two of you breathed heavily, the air thick with anticipation and lust. He pinned you up against the closed door and kissed hard, feeling the heat rising as your bodies tightened against one another. Your tongues met, mingling in an intense way that drove you wild. You let out soft sounds of pleasure, suddenly changing sides, pulling him away just enough so you could have access to his neck, your teeth trailing from his jaw, trying to find a sensitive spot.

He whined, barely moving away, trying to calm himself down, the sudden blow of emotions too intense for him. He then panted, and you quickly went back to that spot you had found, nibbling on it. "What are we- fuck- what are we doing?"

You set a finger on his lips, your face going back to his. "Shhh. Let's just... enjoy it," you whispered, leaving a small chaste kiss at the corner of his lips, tempting him. You then flinched, moving away "Unless you don't want..."

He let out a groan, deep and enticing, hungrily going back to your mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back, your lips pressing firmly against his.

"No... I want you."

"And I want you too, Chris." You admitted, doe eyes trailing down to his lips, licking your own. "Now."

[☆☆★☆☆]

Your schedule had gotten filled up to the brim, chances of meeting Chan reserved for the ungodly hours of the night, which were used to get some well deserved sleep. Rehearsing over and over left your body exhausted, your mind clouded in the remaining work you had left, only the most sinful parts of it replaying the encounter that had happened barely three nights ago.

It was obvious that he was awake, the light in his room shining from underneath the door, knowning that he’d probably be working on his samples.

And he had tried, looking for one of the files he had recorded that delicious night. But something felt wrong. He frowned, looking at how long the audio was.

He played it before using it, at first just hearing random noises he was recording. Then he heard himself groaning, the sound of the bed sheets moving with his body, and then, after some loud steps, the door creaked open.

And those voices were you and him, that was no doubt. He blushed, the sound of the door slamming close getting his mind back to three nights ago.

“Ah, fuck, Chan!” You moaned through his headphones.

The bed creaked under both of you in rythmic beats, matching each thrust, your moans decorating the purple-lit room.

As both an idol and a producer, Chan had listened to many voices and samples for a long time, ears used to the constant stimulation, but the sound of your needy whines as he slowed down in hopes of not coming too soon made the task even more difficult.

“Don’t- ugh, fuck-,” he whined, hearing the heavy breathing through the recording. “Let me hear you, baby, please.”

Chan tried to pause the recording, a flustered mess, but instead accidentally unplugged his headphones, the sound of creaks and moans filling his room once again.

He paused it, mortified. Where you home? Fuck, he didn’t want you to think he was recording you in secret.

He turned around slowly when the door creaked open.

“What's going on here?” You walked in with an oversized top on, the cut of the sleeves made so that your body could be seen through the sides of the tank top.

“I-i uh…”

“Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“Chan? Are you listening?” Changbin questioned, frowning.

“Uh?”

He remembered that he wasn’t inside his room, like the night before, your thighs straddling his, but in the studio, showing his friends the audio he had put together. He couldn’t help but smile and get lost in his thoughts when certain creaks came out.

“We like it,” Han repeated. “We can get to writting lyrics soon enough.”

Chan’s phone chimed next to him, his eyes trailing it with no thoughts to it.

Let’s have fun again tonight.

He bit his lip, turning his phone off.

“I’ll call it Heyday,” he mentioned to his friends, renaming the new audio file.

He’d keep the other one a secret.

[☆☆★☆☆]

[hard hours]

~Kats, who came up with this idea on the beach and has had it stuck in her head since day one.

[bafvkun]

I just feel like talking about how deep Mikayu’s bound runs don’t mind me (HEAVY spoilers ahead).

Lets get this straight : i don’t care if you ship them or not (even if you would be a fool not to) but no one can deny that they’re literal soulmates and I’m gonna show you exactly why.

Yu and Mika were ALWAYS bound to find each other and reunite. I’m not saying that because I’m delusional it’s literally canon. Their relationship is as old as dinosaurs and once again : this is canon.

Yu (or should I say Mika but like whatever if you didn’t read the scans it would take an eternity to explain) was literally created for Mika. The sole purpose of his existence was to look after Mika and be his only friend. Since day one they were ment for each other.

They swore on every stars and defied fate itself that they will always found each other again no matter how many times they die or get taken away from the other in a way or another, no matter their race, age or era.

There I was talking about the first versions of them, but let’s talk about the main one, the one we all know in the anime and throughout the whole manga, Yuichiro and Mikaela Hyakuya.

Mika was the first one in this life to get Yu to open his heart, to make him accept his fate and push him to make the best of it. Yu was just a traumatized child that almost got killed by his own parents yet Mika made him feel like he belonged somewhere, he showed him that family wasn’t always meant to be bound with blood.

When Yu lost Mika it was like he lost all hopes, for the longest time Yu was suicidal, already from young age and this loss just made him feel so much worse. Yes the loss of his whole new family, including Akane and the kids was bad for him, but deep down what truly broke them was the loss of one another.

Years later they reunited, Mika like Yu both changed deeply because of their own experiences and yet their relationship stayed unchanged. Just the dynamic between them switched, Yu was now the one to convince Mika that he could trust his new family (Glenn and his own squad).

One day my mom told me « if when you reunite with a long lost friend and it feels like not even a day has passed, then it’s real friendship » and it’s been proven to me that this is true, Mikayu being yet another exemple of this.

As a vampire Mika doesn’t feel much anymore, it’s said loud and clear that turning into a vampire takes away from you any vulnerability, any love or lust. Yet Mika feels so vividly for Yu, it runs so much deeper than his own nature. His loyalty towards him is beyond any words could ever describe.

And it’s also so damn obvious how Mika is just so grumpy with anyone but smiles whenever Yu is around. He didn’t smile for anyone else than him throughout the manga, Yu is his literal everything, he is the only one that brings him peace and joy.

Now we skip forward a bit, Yu and Mika are in a deadly situation and against everything Mika dies. First let’s get the obvious out of the way, his last words were « Yu, I love you. ». I mean. There’s nothing more straightforward than that.

But then, when a vampire dies he becomes a demon, so of course Yu had to take him as his cursed weapon. So that’s exactly what he did, after so much struggle that I will pass here he finally got to talk with Mika and have a contract with him.

But the thing is when a vampire dies and becomes a demon he loses all his memories from his previous life, so Mika didn’t remember Yu at all. Yet, despite everything their bound didn’t die, quite the contrary. Even before they did the contract, so before Mika had access to Yu’s memories, there was still something inside him that screamed « that guy is important to me », even if he didn’t understand where it came from.

All the memories Mika had of Yu after that was again : from Yu’s own memories.

And what Mika saw broke him, the desire to die was so overwhelming even in his demon form he found himself speechless and hurt. He didn’t remember Yu but he knew that he was important to him more than he could ever tell. And he didn’t only see their memories together, he saw Yu’s whole life, the moment with his parents, the years they spent apart, Yu and Glenn’s relationship and his new family, he saw everything.

He swore his loyalty to him yet again, ready to do anything for him and face the end of the world hand in hand with him. And of course, even when he lost his memories Yu never once doubted him and that he would still follow him.

Now. I’ve been talking a lot about Mika’s love for Yu but what about the other way around ? Moving forward in the story again Glenn revealed something to Yu, his squad and Mika that left a dilemma hanging in the air. Yu had to chose between humanity and Mika. And what did he do ? He chose Mika, betraying not only Glenn, the man that save him physically and psychologically and that he respected the most in the world, not only his squad with who he shared ups and downs like a family but humanity itself for the survival of Mika.

If this doesn’t speak volumes to you I don’t know what will. Yu sacrificed EVERYTHING down to his own survival just to spend one more day with Mika. Now not only vampires, demons and angels were against him, but humanity too all for the sake of one man.

Both of them constantly put their whole life and universe on the line for the other and they always do it in a heartbeat, like any other decision would just be unthinkable.

They had so many discussions that made clear how deeply their feelings for one another go, no matter if you interpret it as brotherly or romantic love. They confessed to each other so many times how they can’t live without the other, how life is meaningless if the other isn’t around. How there’s not even a point in trying to live if it isn’t to face tomorrow together and how each other’s happiness is more important than anything else in the world.

Both of them held on solely for the other, both of them are still breathing and living their truth thanks to nothing else than one another.

Their love is so fucking beautiful and pure, it stayed untouched through generations and generations of them.

Mikayu is an amazing ship and anyone would be a fool to not read Seraoh of the end just to witness such utter and raw love.

[silentmoths]

Some HSR Thirsts

Because I've been fucking star-railed this last week and also I promised @dustofthedailylife that I would write a svarog thirst if she finally pulled welt. so since this exists, you can guess what happened!

Svarog/Yaoshi/Kafka x Reader

NSFW, nothing explicit perse but all very heavily implied, Robot/monsterfucking, does fucking a god cound as monsterfucking?, Svarog is a giant vibrator, Yaoshi and their many hands, also Yaoshi having an aphrodesiac venom in their scorpion tail, maybe a little implied dubcon in kafkas case? I dont...think it is but its there as a warning in case.

Ok but Svarog, who definitely knows what sex is, of course he does, he has an entire database to access, and lets face it, this man has probably already accessed it when looking up ‘how to parent’ information because at one point or another he’s going to have to give clara ‘the talk’

(no, we wont talk about how his version of the talk is going to be the most embarrassingly clinical talk ever to exist. rest in peace clara.)

But he does not, for the love of anything, understand why you want to have sex…with him.

Nonetheless, he does not stop your hands roaming his chest plates, he doesn’t really stop you from doing… anything really, because… whatever this is  makes you happy, and that’s all he wants. 

He’s confused when you ask him to touch you, but he does it anyway, all while sifting through his databanks to figure out both why and where. 

This is also the day you discover that Svarog has an… interesting vibration function in his hands that he claims was once for easing stiff muscles of his old human commanders before he was abandoned.

Yeah it’ll sure ease you alright.

Admittedly…he does like watching you squirm…it does… something to his servos.

Though, he thinks he may have created a monster, because now every day, without fail…you’re asking him for a hand. 

Perhaps one day, when he has done enough research…he might just reveal that one…extra modification that had been made to him before everything went to shit.

One day he will allow you to delve below his trousers and maybe one day he will use that…modification, to finally give you what you want, since it seems you’re unwilling to find another mortal to fornicate with.

Besides

perhaps …clara could do with a mother figure around.

----------

Some say the Aeon Yaoshi, of the Abundance, is a cruel and evil creature.

This does not stop you from seeking Their favour.

However when they finally do appear before you, you get so much more.

Six hands, long and delicate, trailing your skin as they pull you close, unearthly voice whispering in your ear, telling you they’ve heard every prayer, every plead and call for them; how they’ve been watching you all this time, and now they have come to bestow the blessing you’ve been seeking.

But only if you can endure one last trial.

In some depictions you had found, Yaoshi is endowed with a scorpion's tail, so it isn’t a shock when the appendage curls around your body, the tip pricking into your thigh. You feel the warmth of the poison spread through your body and you moan for it. Yaoshi only hums their praise 

Their venom makes you feel warm and fuzzy, it makes their touch intense and vivid, most of all…

it makes you want to give yourself over entirely

You feel hands touch places that have never been touched by another, you feel their teeth and their tongue. You hear their praises.

And then you wake, in your bed. 

At first, you think it was a dream, but then you sit up.

You were naked, your muscles ached, but it was a sweet ache, soft around the edges, and there on your thigh, where they had stung you with their venom…

the symbol of abundance

----------

Soft hands, and an even softer voice, leave you weak in the knees.

“Ready to talk yet?” Kafka muses quietly as she presses a single finger to your collarbone, and you immediately fall back against the table, your arms still bound behind your back. 

You should be struggling. You should be fighting back.

But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t incredibly turned on by the stellaron hunter who had kidnapped you, and was now apparently intent on interrogating you.

“You’ll….have to try harder than that.” you rasp, trying to sound intimidating. 

By the way Kafka’s smile widens ever so slightly, it’s failed completely, and you’re once again left reeling as she approaches, leaning over you like a cat who’s just caught their mouse.

“Will I?” her voice is so soft, and yet so very dangerous as her ruby eyes narrow in on your face “My…are we a little smitten? Your face is all red.” 

Goddamn it.

“I’d never-”

“Oh don’t be so dramatic.” She interjects as she perches on the edge of the table beside where you lay, she shoots you a look…an expression you can’t quite discern for a moment, until you realise her own eyes are raking down your body.

hungrily.

You watch her bring her hand to her mouth, teeth closing around the finger of her glove before pulling the offending article off; your heart is jackrabbiting in your chest.

“I think…” she hums as she leans back over you, magenta hair falling between you both like a waterfall. This was dangerous, so very dangerous.

But the moment her hand presses against your belly, and slowly begins its slow gaze downward, pressing shamelessly beneath the waistband of your bottoms? You’re a goner.

“I think I have other ways to make you sing that we’ll both enjoy…don't you think?”

Taglist: @stygianoir @meimeimeirin @ainescribe @dustofthedailylife @rjssierjrie @crystalflygeo @angel-of-requiem @asoulsreverie @zomzomb1e Want to be added to the list? shoot me an ask~

I will be starting a Starrail specific taglist shortly so if you want in on that let me know!

[tarotbydelilah444]

a love letter from your mother to you

Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers, grandmothers, aunties, and new mothers around the world. You are loved and appreciated for all that you do from being a strong woman to being a mother to all, and you do it all with beauty & grace. Thank you for all that you do and that you continue to do. We love you! This message is to meant to apply to everyone, no matter who raised you, or you consider as your “mother.”

pile one • 💐

dearest one, my life was complicated and a mess when you came into my life. I went through a lot of changes when I found out about your existence. I had to come to terms with some harsh realities and learn from my many many mistakes in order to be the best parent that I could be for you, and it wasn’t always easy as I made it seem. You made me a better person. You gave me a second chance to do the right thing when everybody doubted me, and for that, I am eternally grateful for your existence in my life. You taught me valuable lessons and things I never knew that I was capable of. You taught me how to be a mature, patient, humble, and selfless human being and mother. Although I endured a lot of challenges when you came into the world, I do not regret a single thing, and given the chance, I would do it all over again. I am so proud of you and everything you have manage to accomplish in your life. Everybody knows how proud I am of you, and if it was possible I would scream to the top of my lungs, so that the entire world knows how proud you have made me as a parent. Baby, I want you to know that I will always be there to support you whenever you need me, you can always count on me when no one else is there, so don’t hesitate to lean on me when you aren’t feeling too strong. My favorite thing about you is your ability to rise above adversity. You are so resilient and you never allow anything or anyone to keep you down for too long. You just dust yourself off, get back up, and try again and again until you reach the stars. Now at times, you can be a bit of a perfectionist and way too hard on yourself, and I want you to know that it is okay to take a step back and give yourself grace because everyone needs a break every once in a while. Remember that Rome wasn’t built in a day. You are still the best in my eyes, no matter what anyone says or does. My precious child, the best trait that you inherited from me was your drive and determination to go after your dreams & aspirations. I’ve always known since the day you were born that you were going to do amazing things and be more successful than I ever was. You are truly the best parts of myself, and you are everything I could possibly ask for. I am so proud to be your mother.

sincerely

- your mama

pile two • 🌷 my sweet precious baby, I was so excited when you came into the world. I have always dreamt about how my family would look one day and I always dreamt of your precious face and how much love I would shower you in. You brought so much joy and happiness into my life at a time when I really needed it. Before you were born, I struggled to find purpose and balance in my life. I was constantly juggling my passions in one hand, and my priorities in the other. When you arrived, I immediately felt that you were not only my purpose, but my reason. I knew right away that I needed to make some changes in my life and do things that would make me happy. Your birth taught me how to give myself grace and how to take joy in the little things and never take anything for granted. You are my muse, my inspiration, and my pride and joy. I love you with all my heart and soul. Do you know what I absolutely love about you? I absolutely love your generosity. You have such a big heart and you are always willing to help out anyone that you see, but sometimes, I do wish that you be more careful and aware that not everyone has good intentions, or want the best for you. I also want you to be more comfortable in saying “no” to others instead of always trying to please others. You cannot pour from a empty cup, my dear. I love that you are so determined and goal driven. You never have to be forced nor told to get up and go after what you want in life, and for that I commend you for that. You are not one to accept losses because you understand that life presents challenges and you won’t always win every single battle, but you learn and accept the lessons that have been given to you with each challenging task, which in my opinion, makes you the strongest person I know. Last but certainly not least, I am grateful that you inherited my intelligence and curiosity for all things in life. You can be a bit of a overthinker and tend to worry over the littlest things, but I want you to know that everything is going to work out just fine, and there is no need to worry about every little thing, just enjoy this ride called “life”. I adore that you don’t follow the crowd and that you march to the beat of your own drum. You weren’t created to fit in, but pave your own path, no matter what anyone says, they are just intimidated by your uniqueness. Don’t ever try to fit into anyone box, and continue to be true to yourself. yours truly, - your mama

pile three • 💐

my miracle child, you have no idea how much I am grateful for your presence in my life. You are everything that I could’ve ever imagined and I am beyond honored that you chose me to be your mommy. I prayed so many times for your arrival and I promised that I would always shower you in so much love since the day you came into my life. When I found out about you, I cried and jumped for joy because there were so many people that told me that I wouldn’t become a mother, but I never listened nor did I give up the fight. I pleaded and prayed to the Lord that he would bless my womb and heart with your beautiful soul, and he listened and delivered such a beautiful and wonderful human being. You are my best and greatest achievement in my life, and nothing could ever compare with you. I made a vow to God, that I would always love and treasure you for the rest of my life. I love you with every fiber of myself. I love that you are such a passionate and creative person. Your optimism is so inspiring and refreshing. I absolutely adore that you have such a zest for life, please don’t ever lose it even when life presents its challenges. Your smile and laughter brings me so much bliss and happiness. You manage to bring a smile to my face, even when I am going through a rough time, and for that I am eternally thankful. You are truly my best friend and I am so in love with being your mama. I am so happy that I have been blessed to watch your growth and be apart of every single stage. I am so proud of the person you have become today and you are the greatest child and best friend I could have possibly asked for. I am so glad that you inherited my perseverance. Your ability to keep going despite there being obstacles and difficulties in your path. Your resilience is admirable and you handle your challenges with so much grace. I’ve always known since you were born that you were meant for greatness and that you would accomplish so much life. My angel, I truly admire your independence, grit, intelligence, reliability, and nurturing spirit. with all my love, - your mama

[gothcsz]

Imperfect For You | Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | ~10k wc | Part 4 of the Fantasize series | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: The night Javier proposes.

Tags: established relationship, semi-public sex, jealous!javi, but also sweet nervous javi that might be a little ooc but irdgaf, oral (f&m receiving), a smidge of degradation, light breath play, dirty talk, unprotected p in v sex (practice safe sex pls), facial, pwp, porn with feelings, some physical descriptions but overall it's pretty vague, javier can pick reader up, no use of Y/N, reader is a badass photojournalist, reader speaks spanish, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: did not expect to write another part in this world so fast, but the idea for it came to me in a dream and my mind kinda just took it from there, lol. i hope you guys like it, pls feel free to come bother me about this, okay?! in the wise words of queen bey: i'm swerving on that, swerving, swerving on that big body been servin' all this swerve, surfin' all in this good-good 😋🙂‍↕️

DIVIDERS CREDIT: saradika

Navigating your relationship with Javier stateside was definitely an experience.

When the highs hit, they were nothing short of breathtaking.

That summer was a whirlwind of sweet moments. You spent your days with him and his dad on their family ranch, immersing yourself in the rustic life— learning about the animals, how to care for them, and getting your hands dirty in a way that was surprisingly fulfilling.

Nights were filled with fun adventures, like hitting up those grimy dive bars Javier loved so much, only to find yourselves tangled up in the back of his pickup in some dusty parking lot.

There were times that felt straight out of a fairytale—picnics in sun-drenched fields, soft, sleepy sex in his childhood bedroom followed by breakfast in bed with the morning light streaming in.

But as the summer drew to a close, reality set in. Javier decided to stay in Texas to help his pops with the ranch, while you had to move to New York for work.

It made sense, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Saying goodbye was like tearing a piece of your heart out. Your relationship, still so fresh, was suddenly thrust into the challenges of long-distance, and that brought its own set of struggles.

The lows were devastatingly low.

At first, it was really hard, and you feared that the thrill of your kinky and dramatic beginnings had worn off, exposing you both to the harsh realities of dating.

You started seeing sides of each other that had remained hidden until they weren’t.

Javier’s hot-headedness and tendency to react without thinking, your own habit of micromanaging and being passive aggressive— these flaws clashed in ways that neither of you had anticipated.

Javier, who had never been good at relationships to begin with, struggled to navigate this terrain all over again, while you, having not been in a serious relationship since your freshman year of undergrad, found yourself unsure of how to handle the rough patches.

These were challenges you hadn’t faced since you didn’t really have the time to. 

He was preoccupied with taking down dangerous drug traffickers and you were caught up in the whirlwind of keeping up with him.

It made you wonder if the idea of you two only ever really existed in Colombia.

The distance didn’t help matters. Seeing each other so rarely made the relationship feel strained, like you were constantly trying to hold onto something that was constantly slipping through your fingers.

You tried to convince him to move to the city with you, but every time the topic came up, it ended the same way— with you in tears and him abruptly hanging up.

“I can’t just leave him here to run this place by himself. He’s not getting any younger.” “He has other ranch hands, Javi. You said you’d try this with me.” “This is me trying. Why are you being so selfish?”

The conversations would spiral into bickering, pointless arguments that left you both emotionally and physically drained.

There was even a time when it all fell apart— a breakup that lasted an entire month, neither of you speaking, the silence as heavy as the miles between you.

It wasn’t until Javier finally came to his senses, flying out to New York to win you back, that things started to feel right again.

The reunion was explosive, leading to the most fervid, passionate makeup sex that left the both of you out of commission for the rest of that weekend.

After that rough patch, everything began to fall into place, and it was pretty much smooth sailing from there.

The two of you had weathered the storms of long distance, misunderstandings, and inevitable growing pains of a serious relationship, and you had come out stronger on the other side.

Javier eventually made the decision to move into your apartment, a choice that felt like a natural progression rather than the point of contention it had once been.

You found yourself building a life together, and the city became the backdrop for your blossoming relationship.

He found work at a private security company nearby, a job that kept him engaged but wasn’t nearly as all-consuming as his previous work with the DEA. 

Your own career was thriving as well, your time in South America propelling you forward, and Javier was your biggest supporter. He admired your passion and dedication, often marveling at the way you captured the world through your lens.

Gone were the days of petty arguments and the anxiety of being so far apart. 

Javier’s fiery temperament mellowed in the warmth of your affection, and your once-passive tendencies faded as you grew more confident and assured in his unwavering support.

You learned to communicate more openly, and trust replaced the insecurities that had once threatened to pull you apart.

Now, your life together is a beautiful blend of routine and spontaneity. Whether it’s quiet mornings spent sipping coffee and reading the news together, or weekends exploring the city and its surroundings, everything is finally okay.

It’s much better than anything you could have ever thought up of those late nights in Bogotá, where all you did was dream of being his.

The gallery is abuzz with the energy of admiration and praise, the walls lined with your photographs— snapshots of life that tell stories far beyond the frames they’re bound by.

It’s your night, a celebration of your burgeoning career, and as you move through the room, mingling with friends, colleagues, and mutual acquaintances, your confidence shines brightly.

The alcohol is flowing, the murmur of conversation blending with the soft music that plays throughout the space.

Javier stands near the edge of the room, keeping to the periphery and staying out of the way, but his eyes never leave you and how you glow in the spotlight.

Tonight you’re the center of attention, and rightfully so. You’ve worked your ass off trying to make this exhibit happen and you managed to pull it off seamlessly. But, there’s something else on his mind— something that has him a bit shaken.

The small velvet box tucked securely in his pocket feels heavier with every passing moment.

He plans to propose to you here, a decision he’s been turning over in his mind for well over a year now. Despite the certainty in his heart— that he loves you more than he ever thought possible— there’s a ghost from his past that won’t let him be.

The memory of Lorraine, his ex-fiancée, looms like a shadow, stirring anxieties he thought he’d left behind.

He never imagined himself getting engaged again after that failed relationship, and the fears that haunted him then seem to be creeping back now, whispering doubts even though he knows that what he has with you is completely different.

He takes another careful sip of his drink. Your friends have reassured him that everything will be fine, that you’ll say yes without hesitation.

But still, he can’t shake the apprehension that has him locked in place, keeping him rooted to this spot, while everything moves like a blur around him.

To make himself feel better, Javier allows himself to imagine what it will be like— to see the surprise and joy in your eyes when he gets down on one knee, to feel your arms wrap around him as you say yes, to know that you’re his, officially and forever.

You look so radiant, your cheeks flushed with excitement and champagne, and the sight fills him with a warmth that momentarily drowns out the worry gnawing at his insides.

And that cocktail dress you have on— Christ, it makes you look so sexy. Fitting your silhouette like a glove, accentuating all the curves that make him delirious. He’s half tempted to pull you somewhere more private, fall to his knees, and bury his tongue inside you.

You wouldn’t mind it one bit.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you spot him—your rock, your steady presence, the man who has stood by you through every twist and turn. Even amidst the buzz of the crowd, you can sense his wary disposition, the tension in his stance.

You excuse yourself politely from the conversation you’re in, your steps slightly swaying from all the alcohol you’ve had, and make your way over to where he’s standing.

“Found the life of the party right here,” you tease as you step up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. It’s soft, affectionate, and you taste the liquor on his breath; a reminder that no matter where you are or who’s around, he’s the one you’re always drawn to.

Javier’s heart skips a beat as your lips meet his, and he can’t help but smile down at you, even as the nerves twist in his gut.  “You’re the star tonight, mi amor. I’m just here to admire.” He murmurs, his voice low and warm, his free hand instinctively finding your waist.

“And I’m so glad you are,” you giggle softly, “But something’s on your mind. You okay?” You know him too well, and even through the vignette of champagne, you sense the unease beneath his calm exterior. 

“Yeah, just… taking it all in. Letting you do you,” he replies, his thumb rubbing small circles against your waist which has you exhaling shakily. He tries to sound casual, but there’s a tightness in his chest that won’t go away.

You see right through it, of course. After two years together, you’ve learned to read him like one of your photographs— capturing every subtle shift, every unspoken word. You tilt your head slightly, studying him with that sharp intuition of yours. “You sure?”

He hesitates, his thoughts racing.

He could drop to one knee right now, right here. But the weight of the past holds him back, just for a second longer.

“Just proud of you,” he finally answers, deflecting, but his brown eyes give him away. There’s more he wants to say, the words just catch in his throat.

Your smile softens, and you reach up to stroke his cheek. “Thank you, baby.” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again, slower this time, as if to reassure him that whatever’s on his mind, it’ll be alright. 

A soft throat clearing from behind you interrupts the intimate bubble you’ve momentarily retreated into.

You roll your eyes playfully, earning a knowing smirk from him before you reluctantly turn on your heel.

Standing there with an expectant look is your best friend, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in mock impatience.

“Sorry to break up the PDA,” she teases, tone laced with humor, “but you’re needed elsewhere.”

You shoot her a faux-glare, but the corners of your mouth twitch upward into a smile.

“Duty calls,” Javier murmurs in your ear. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of your hair, the simple gesture making you feel tingly all over. You close your eyes briefly, savoring the moment before letting out a soft sigh.

With a resigned smile, you reach for his almost-empty glass, still held loosely in his hand. Without breaking eye contact, you tilt it back and drain the remaining contents in one swift motion, the smoky burn a small, satisfying feeling that warms up your blood.

Your friend snorts at your display, a grin tugging at her lips. “Cute. You’ve got her shooting whiskey now.”

You hand the empty glass back to Javier, who’s watching you with a specific glint in his eyes that you can’t quite put your finger on, and you wonder what it is that’s got him behaving like this.

“Go do what you have to do,” he tells you softly, fingers brushing against yours as he takes the glass. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

You nod, giving him one last peck before turning to follow her to where you’re needed. As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, so you sway your hips exaggeratedly. 

She nudges you playfully as you weave through the crowd. “You two are disgustingly cute, you know that?”

You can’t help but snicker, “I really lucked out with him,” you reply and she nods, understanding how much he means to you and vice versa. “He’s been acting really weird all night. Don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

She pokes her tongue against her cheek, trying her damndest not to spoil the big surprise even though she’s so excited for your reaction. “He’s so used to having you all to himself that he can’t stand sharing you with the rest of the world.” 

Now you nudge her, catching the sarcasm in her voice.

There’s a flutter in your chest telling you it’s more than that. There isn’t much you can do at the moment so you just drop it all together, a large grin on your face as you get pulled back into the social whirl.

You’re standing on the far side of the room, engaged in a lively conversation with the professor who had suggested you for the position in Bogotá. The conversation is light and familiar, filled with nostalgic anecdotes and her telling you she knew that you were perfect for the job.

Then, you hear someone softly call your name from behind.

You turn to face a man who appears slightly older than you, with sharp, handsome features and an air of pretentiousness that’s impossible to ignore. His perfectly tailored suit and calculated smile speak volumes before he even opens his mouth.

You bid farewell with your professor and shift your attention to the man before you.

“Peter Andrews,” he introduces himself smoothly, extending a hand which you shake. “Fellow reporter, currently working on a piece about the rising individuals in the field. I was hoping I could steal a few moments of your time for a quick interview.”

His eyes rake over you shamelessly, tongue wetting his lips, and then he adds, “I have to say, you’re even more beautiful in person.”

And there it is— the not-so-subtle flirtation, wrapped in a thin veneer of professionalism. You catch it instantly but choose to brush it off with a sweet, practiced smile, hand returning to your side. “Thank you,” you reply politely, already calculating how to keep the conversation on track.

You walk a little further down and he gestures toward the collection of pictures displayed on the wall opposite you, the ones capturing your time in Colombia. “Impressive work,” he remarks, eyes lingering on the images. “I’m particularly surprised you managed to get Javier Peña to talk.”

You recall that weekend spent in the Hamptons with Javier, where the goal had been to wrap up the project. Instead, it had been repeatedly delayed, thanks to his inability to keep his hands off you. The memory makes you smile inwardly, but you keep your expression neutral, curiosity piqued by his comment.

Your brows knit together as you question him, “Why do you say that?”

He exhales heavily, as if what he’s about to say is common knowledge. “I’ve just heard the guy is kind of an asshole.”

You suppress a laugh, realizing he has no idea that the so-called “asshole” he’s referring to is actually your boyfriend. Deciding to keep that detail to yourself for now, you feign interest, wanting to hear more of what’s being said about the former agent.

“Really?”

He hums, shifting his weight on his feet, eyes moving between you and the framed photos, “Yup. It’s a bit astounding that he wasn’t thrown in jail for, well, you know.” He motions vaguely and your eyes narrow, “Bringing him back was definitely… a move. A criminal going after criminals. Guess it’s the only way to catch ‘em, right? Takes one to know one type of situation.”

You bite down on your tongue harshly, hating the way he’s talking about Javier. He doesn’t know the half of it and if he did, he wouldn’t be so fucking judgemental.

“Criminals going after criminals,” you echo his words back to him with an edge, “Sounds like every other government man,” you add and he lets out a haughty laugh, the sound grating on your nerves. 

His arrogance makes your stomach twist, but you hide your distaste, bowing your head slightly as if to smooth out your dress, masking the grimace that threatens to surface.

The conversation with Peter continues with a few more back-and-forth questions. Nothing particularly groundbreaking. You answer with ease, maintaining the courteous smile you’ve perfected over the years.

Meanwhile, Javier has been searching for you, his brows drawn together in a deep scowl. He stops your friend and asks where you might be. She points him toward the more deserted side of the room, where he spots you engaged in conversation with another man.

Javier knows he has nothing to worry about— he’s secure in himself and in your relationship. But still, a sharp surge of jealousy courses through him as he takes in the scene.

The man, with his taller frame towering over yours, is standing just a little too close for Javier’s liking. His hand twitches at his side, as if he’s holding himself back from reaching out to touch you, and that’s enough to set your boyfriend on edge.

Before his brain can fully process it, his feet are already moving, carrying him across the room at a faster pace than he intended. He stops when he’s close enough to overhear your conversation but not to let himself be seen, keeping a watchful eye while trying to gauge the situation.

Neither you nor Peter notice his presence, too absorbed in your exchange to sense him nearby.

Not that it matters much— Javier can tell from your body language that you’re wrapping things up, and that small observation helps ease the tension in his chest. Still, he remains alert, listening intently while his gaze never wavers from you.

“So, where’s the after party?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you respond, “No after party. I’m looking forward to going home with my boyfriend.”

Javier, still watching from a distance, feels a swell of pride in his chest. Hell yeah, gatita, let that fucker know you’re taken.

Peter’s eyebrows lift slightly in surprise. “You’re in a relationship?”

“Yes,” you confirm, your voice steady. A server passes by with a tray of champagne, and you take a flute, thanking him before sipping from it to maintain your composure, though your thoughts are far less polite than your demeanor.

“Happily?” Peter presses, his boldness catching you off guard. You raise your brows in amusement, nearly choking on your drink at the audacity of his question.

Javier’s jaw tightens, and he’s on the verge of stepping in, ready to make his presence known to the man who’s clearly trying to make a move on you.

“Very,” you reply firmly, tone leaving no room for doubt.

“So I shouldn’t invite you back to my hotel room for a nightcap,” Peter murmurs, his tone dripping with suggestion.

You suddenly realize just how close he’s gotten, his breath warm against your ear. His hand has somehow found its way to your waist, fingers grazing your hip in a way that makes your skin crawl.

That’s the last straw for Javier. Without hesitation, he steps out from his spot, his voice cutting through the tension. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

The way Peter jumps back from you is almost comical, his eyes wide with surprise as he scrambles to put some distance between you both. It’s like that self-assured, cocky attitude was completely dissipated by Javier’s presence. 

Relief floods through you as your boyfriend steps closer, putting you at ease. An arm snakes around your waist, pulling you firmly against his side, and the warmth of his touch melts away any lingering discomfort.

“Sorry,” you say, definitely feeling the drinks in your system. “Peter here pulled me aside for an interview. He was shocked to find out that you actually sat down to talk to me about your time in Colombia. Apparently, you’ve got a reputation for being kind of an asshole.”

Javier chuckles dryly, his grip on your waist tightening protectively as he looks the other man dead in the eye. “Is that so?” he drawls, his tone calm but with an unmistakable edge. “Well, I guess everyone’s entitled to their opinion.”

Peter, clearly flustered, forces a laugh, his previous confidence now shaken. “Oh, you know how rumors are,” he stammers, taking a step back. “It’s just what I’ve heard.”

“Good thing I don’t put much stock in rumors,” Javier replies, leaving no doubt that he’s marking his territory.

You nestle closer into Javier’s embrace, smelling his cologne, feeling a sense of satisfaction as Peter fumbles for words. The dynamic has shifted, and it’s clear who holds the power in this situation.

“Besides,” he adds with a pointed look, “I am an asshole.”

You grin and bite down on your lip as he presses a kiss to your temple. Peter finally decides to retreat, mumbling something about taking a ‘very important phone call’. As he scurries off, you can’t help but feel a surge of pride for the man by your side—strong, vigilant, and completely yours.

Once he is out of sight, you turn to Javier, a twinkle in your stare. “You really do know how to make an entrance,” you tease, leaning up to kiss him softly.

“Just making sure no one forgets who you belong to,” he murmurs against your lips, the possessiveness in his tone unmistakable. It’s so hot.

“As if I could ever forget.”

Somehow, you’ve found yourselves in a secluded enough corner for Javier to let his hand slide down from your waist to cup your ass, his fingers squeezing firmly over the fabric of your dress. The touch draws a soft gasp from your lips as you lean into him.

“Me estás volviendo loco con este vestido, amor,” he mutters in a low growl, indicating his growing need for you. “Wanna take you home and rip it right off you.”

You bite down on your lip, the idea swirling in your mind with a dangerous allure.

The thought of leaving this event—your event—early, just to be alone with him, is tempting, more than you’d like to admit.

But even as the desire flares between you, you know it’s not the most graceful move to make, disappearing from your own celebration just to satisfy your hunger for each other.

“Soon, Javi,” you whisper, trying to be the voice of reason in the building suspense, even as you try to maintain some semblance of composure.

But Javier’s hands have a mind of their own, growing bolder as they firmly grip your ass, pulling your hips to his.

The heat between you is tangible, and the restraint slowly slips away as his touch becomes more insistent.

Sensing that things are about to get dangerously out of hand, you quickly reach down to grip his wrists, gently but firmly stopping him before the moment escalates beyond your control, or worse, you’re caught.

“C’mon, sneak off to the bathroom with me. I’ll be quick,” Javier whispers, his voice thick as he leans in to nip at your earlobe. It sends a jolt of heat straight to the apex of your thighs, and you have to bite back a moan.

You tilt your head slightly, eyes scanning the room to make sure no one’s paying attention.

That no one’s searching for you.

When you’re sure it’s safe, you grab his large hand, heart pounding with excitement as you begin to pull him toward the back area of the building.

He’s sporting a triumph smirk that tempts you into kissing it right off his annoyingly handsome face.

Skipping the public restrooms, you guide him to the more secluded one for employees, knowing it’s the only place where you’re least likely to be interrupted.

The door barely clicks shut before he’s spinning you around, pressing your back firmly against it. His lips crash onto yours with an urgency that feels almost desperate, like kissing you is the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

His hands roam over your body, fingers digging into your hips as he pins you against the door, his mouth moving hungrily against yours. It’s unrestrained, filled with a need that borders on primal.

Your hands find their way to his hair, tugging him closer as your tongues tangle. The confined space only heightens the anticipation, the thrill of being caught shouldn’t feel this exhilarating. 

But amidst the whirlwind of passion, you manage to break the kiss, pulling back just enough to gasp for air. “I need to go back out there soon,” you whisper, your voice shaky, lips swollen and glistening.

Javier groans in protest, a deep, throaty sound that reverberates through your very core. In one swift motion, he maneuvers you over to the countertop by the sink, lifting you effortlessly to perch on top of the cool marble surface.

His hands are already working, sneaky fingers rucking your dress up until it’s bunched around your waist, revealing the silky barrier of your underwear. His gaze drops, taking in the sight of your exposed thighs, the delicate fabric already damp with anticipation.

A wicked smirk plays on his lips as he lowers to his knees before you, hooking a finger around your panties, tugging them aside to unveil your glistening folds.

The cool air brushes against your scorching skin, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. Javier’s eyes dart up, meeting yours, the smoldering intensity making your breath hitch.

He leans in, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh. The first touch of his tongue is agonizingly gentle, a teasing glide along your slit that has your hips bucking forward, seeking more.

He obliges, flattening his tongue to deliver a languid, thorough lick from your entrance up to your clit, collecting your arousal with a groan of appreciation.

A tremor runs through you, your fingers instinctively weaving into his hair, anchoring him closer. He chuckles softly against your pussy, igniting sparks in your veins.

His hands grip your thighs, thumbs stroking soothing patterns as he delves deeper, his tongue exploring every ridge and contour with meticulous attention.

When he finally wraps his lips around your swollen clit, sucking with just the right amount of pressure, a strangled moan escapes you.

Your thighs clamp around his head, the feeling so overwhelming, but Javier seems unfazed, his focus solely on drawing out every ounce of bliss he can from you. His tongue flicks and circles, alternating between gentle laps and fervent suckles, each movement pushing you closer to the precipice.

Your back arches involuntarily, head falling back against the mirror with a gentle thud but you’re too overwhelmed with how good he’s making you feel to notice the dull ache.

The room fades away, party outside muted, leaving only the slick sounds of Javier’s ministrations and your ragged breaths.

“Javi,” you pant, your voice barely above a whisper, laden with need. He grumbles, the sound sending a fresh surge of wetness to leak from your cunt.

His pace quickens, tongue and lips working in tandem to push you over the edge, his mustache scratching against you so delightfully.

The coil in your belly tightens, every nerve ending alight, and with a final, expertly placed suck, you shatter, pleasure washing over you in relentless waves.

Your vision blurs, stars dancing behind your closed eyelids as you ride out your climax, Javier’s tongue continuing its gentle caresses, guiding you back down.

As the aftershocks subside, you release your grip on his hair, fingers numb and trembling.

Javier pries your legs apart, placing a few more wet kisses on your pussy before nipping your thighs and standing to tower over you, kissing you roughly.

You can taste yourself on him, the heady flavor with the spicy liquor he’s been sipping on all night is an inebriating combination.

Pulling back, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily, faces heated. “Okay, we can go back now.” he teases, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You laugh softly, still reeling from how quickly he got you off.

This man has a fucking mouth on him.

“You’re insatiable,” you murmur, affection lacing your tone as you bring your thumb up to smooth down his mustache, collecting some of your cum and feeding it between his lips.

He bites down on it gently after licking it clean. “Have you seen yourself? Hard not to be.” He responds, stealing another quick kiss before helping you straighten your dress, fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary which has you reprimanding him playfully.

You both compose yourselves, cleaning up and ready to return to the world outside, but he hangs back.

“You go first. I’ll be out there in a minute.” You nod with a small smile, leaning in to kiss him one last time before leaving him alone.

As the door closes behind you, Javier checks the silver watch on his wrist, noting the time. He exhales a heavy breath, the moment settling on his shoulders. “Okay,” he mutters to his reflection, the image of himself staring back with a mixture of anticipation and nerves. “This is it.”

He talks some confidence into himself, squaring his shoulders as the weight of the small box in his pocket becomes palpable.

It feels impossibly heavy, but it’s a weight he knows he’s ready to carry. This is what he wants— he wants you in every sense imaginable, and he’s ready to make that commitment.

With a deep breath, he adjusts his clothes, smoothing out any wrinkles and straightening his tie. His hands move to his hair, fixing the tousled strands left by your eager fingers, a small smile playing at his lips as he thinks of you.

A quick once-over in the mirror confirms he’s presentable, and with one final, steadying breath, he steps out to follow you, the decision already made and the path ahead clearer than ever.

You stare at Javier quizzically as he silences the room with a simple gesture, the murmur of conversations fading away as all eyes turn toward the two of you. He steps closer, his expression serious but softened by the warmth in his eyes.

You hadn’t expected him to make a speech— he’s not usually one for public displays— but the idea of him surprising you with one fills your chest with a rush of affection. A happy, almost nervous smile tugs at your lips as you gaze up at him.

Javier clears his throat, his gaze never leaving yours, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. “I’m proud of you,” he begins steadily, “Proud of the woman you are, the things you’ve accomplished, how you handle everything life throws at you with grace and determination.”

Your heart swells with adoration. Even though he tells you these things all the time when it’s just the two of you, having him declare it out loud to the rest of the world really pulls at your heartstrings.

“You’ve made me a better man,” he admits as he reaches out to take your hand. “You’ve shown me what it truly means to love someone unconditionally, to stand by their side even at their worst. I know I’ve given you plenty of reasons to walk away, and God knows I haven’t made it easy. But you’ve stayed, through all my shit, and that’s something I’ll never take for granted.”

His words hang in the air, the room is utterly silent now, every person captivated by the honesty in his voice. You can feel the love radiating from him, the deep, unwavering affection that has only grown stronger with time.

“From the moment we met, nothing about our relationship has ever been conventional,” Javier continues, his voice steady despite the nerves you can sense in the clamminess of his palm. You give his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze, hoping to ease some of his tension.

“We’ve faced challenges and obstacles in the strangest sequence. And that’s why I love what we’ve built together so damn much— it’s real, it’s raw, and it’s ours. Two stubborn, complicated people who somehow found a way to make it work.”

You’re hit with a wave of emotion, and you feel your eyes begin to glisten as you hold his stare. He carries a sincerity that touches something deep within you, a reminder of just how far you’ve come together.

Javier takes a deep breath, brown eyes never leaving yours. He releases your hand to reach into his pocket, pulling out the small velvet box that has been weighing on his mind all night.

The room collectively holds its breath, and you can hear a few gasps as he drops to one knee, eyes still on yours, nervousness and absolute certainty in his expression.

Your stomach bottoms out and you’re half tempted to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming. You look around to find your best friend, who just flashes you an encouraging smile, in tears herself.

“Gatita,” he begins, the pet name bringing you back to him, “I never thought I’d find someone like you. You’ve changed my life in ways I never imagined, and I can’t picture my future without you in it.”

He opens the box, revealing a beautiful, sparkling ring that catches the light and seems to shine just as brightly as the love in his eyes.

You gasp, recognizing the large diamond that sits at the center of it. 

Javier had Frankenstein’d his mother’s ring and the one you purchased in that antique shop back in Colombia. With Chucho’s permission, of course, he replaced the diamond on his mother’s ring and put yours in its place, just slightly altering the original band to fit your finger.

It’s truly the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen, and okay sure— maybe you’re biased because it’s being offered to you by the man of your dreams.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Javier declares as steadily as he can, despite the emotion thickening his words. “Will you marry me?”

Tears blur your vision, the reality of the moment sinking in. You look down at the man you love, the man who has been your partner in every sense of the word.

Your agent.

You nod, unable to find the words but knowing he can see the answer in your eyes.

“Yes, Javi,” you manage to choke out, voice trembling. “Yes, a thousand times yes, I’ll marry you.”

The room erupts in applause and cheers, but all you can focus on is the radiant smile on Javier’s face as he slips the ring onto your finger. The kiss you share is filled with all the love, passion, and promise of the future you’ll continue to build together, a future that’s just as unconventional, just as perfect as the journey that brought you together.

The rest of the evening is a whirlwind of joy and excitement, your engagement ring sparking endless conversations as you gush about it to everyone who crosses your path. Javier stays close by your side, his earlier nerves replaced with a relaxed and happy demeanor.

The gratification in his eyes is unmistakable as he watches you share your happiness with those around you.

The night winds down on a perfect note, and with your apartment just a short walk from the gallery, the two of you stumble through the city streets, your laughter and drunken smiles lighting up the night.

In the elevator of your building, you make out like horny teenagers. This time, it’s you who takes control, pressing Javier up against the railing that lines the small space. Your hand trails down to rub his erection over his pants. He groans against your mouth, the sound full of want.

When the elevator dings open, you grab his tie and pull him down the hallway, both of you struggling to keep your hands off each other as you fumble with the keys. After a few failed attempts at unlocking the door, you finally manage to get inside the apartment.

You break away from him, your breath coming in quick, excited bursts as you tug the loosened tie from around his neck. “Wait for me in the living room.”

He stares down at you, dark eyes revealing the hunger he has for you and yours reflect the same sentiment tenth fold. 

He nods, relinquishing his hold, but not before delivering a sharp smack to your ass as you walk away toward the bedroom. “Don’t take too long. I’m trying to fuck my fiancée.”

You shoot him a playful, heated look over your shoulder before closing the door behind you. Leaning against it for a moment, you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

So many good things have happened tonight, and adrenaline surges through your veins, leaving you in a euphoric high.

You walk over to your closet, rummaging through it, until you find what you’re looking for. The familiar mask comes into view, and a slow smile spreads across your lips as you trace the pointed ears with fondness.

You don’t wear it as often as you used to, reserving it for special occasions or when Javier has had an especially rough day at work— nights when you know he needs to let go.

Tonight seems like an appropriate time to bring out again.

In the bathroom, you strip out of your dress, letting the fabric pool at your feet. After freshening up, you slip the mask over your face, feeling a thrill as it settles into place.

Now, you’re completely naked except for your heels, the engagement ring sparkling on your finger, and the expensive necklace Javier gifted you on your two year anniversary. 

Grabbing his tie, you stumble slightly as you make your way back to him, pausing in the hallway to flick the lights off. You hang back, just before crossing the threshold into the living room, your heart pounding in your ears.

“You in there?” you call out playfully.

“Yes, ma’am,” comes his reply, followed by the soft clink of ice in a glass.

Peeking around the corner, you spot him sitting on the couch, his broad back facing you. Quietly, you slip into the room, your movements light as you come up behind him.

“Hello, agent,” you purr, words dripping with seduction as you place your hands over his eyes.

His body tenses briefly, a deep, carnal rumble vibrating in his chest as he catches on to your game. A half smile tugs at his lips, one that makes your heart skip a beat. “Hola, gatita.”

You giggle mischievously, the sound light as you lean in to lick the back of his ear, savoring the way he shivers at your touch. Then, with deliberate care, you bring the silk tie over his eyes, tying it securely behind his head.

“Just so you don’t get tempted to look.”

You round the couch slowly, each purposeful click of your heels against the flooring teasing him. His ears seem to twitch at the sound, and he brings the glass to his lips, sipping lazily.

“You won’t believe what happened tonight,” you come to a stop in front of him, right between his spread legs.

“Yeah? What’s that?” he asks, his tone casual but tinged with the same eagerness that pulses throughout you.

“I got engaged.”

Javier’s tongue slowly rolls over his lips, an arrogant smirk replacing his lopsided smile.

The sight of him, shirt half undone, his strong chest peeking through, a pronounced tent in his pants where his hard cock strains against the fabric, has your core throbbing. The way he looks, blinded by the tie, relaxed but clearly aroused, is nothing short of irresistible.

He lets out a low whistle. “Lucky man. Think he can handle you?”

You lean forward, pressing your hands onto his thighs, your grip firm as you let the hard tip of your kitten mask just barely graze his nose, teasing him with your closeness. “Oh, I’m positive he can.”

Javier licks across his teeth, the simper deepening as he suavely finishes off his drink. He hands the glass to you without a word, and you take it, placing it on the table next to the couch then turning your attention back to him.

“I should be the one playing with you, preciosa. Tonight’s all about you,” Javier murmurs as he reaches for you. But before his hands can make contact, you pull back, leaving him grasping at the air. He frowns.

“And what I want,” you counter, your voice dropping to a sexy whisper, “is to mount my man and ride the daylights out of him.”

The words hit him like a punch, his hands balling into fists as he curses under his breath. The sight of his restraint, of how much he wants you, brings a satisfied grin to your lips.

You’ve got him exactly where you want him.

You step back to him slowly, your fingers deftly undoing his belt and popping open his pants. His breathing quickens as you slip your hand inside, wrapping your fingers around his velvety length, stroking him with gentle, baiting movements. “Already so hard,” you coo, tightening your grip on his dick ever so slightly, “You want this gatita so bad, don’t you, agent?”

He nods, muttering expletives as his head falls back against the edge of the couch. The sensation of your hand working him over is pure bliss, each stroke sending a lustful charge up his spine.

You lean in closer, your lips trailing kisses and nips along the thick column of his neck, your teeth grazing his throat in a way that makes him tremble. When you reach the birthmark on his neck, you plant a sweet, lingering kiss there, knowing exactly how sensitive he is in that spot.

Javier’s senses are heightened, the alcohol and adrenaline from the proposal amplifying every touch. The tie covering his eyes only sharpens his awareness of you, of the way your hand moves expertly over his cock, coaxing it to twitch.

The combination of your softness, your scent, and your whispered words has him on the edge, his body stiff, every nerve alive and burning for you.

“All the time,” he grunts, “Let me touch you, baby, please.”

There’s that slight whine in his tone, the one only you know he’s capable of making. He doesn’t even realize you’re naked yet and you know that’s going to set him off.

“Not yet,” you whisper in a tantalizing promise. You swipe your thumb over the slit of his cock, smearing the slick precum along his shaft, making him shudder. After a few more languid strokes, you pull your hand away, ignoring the low groan of protest that escapes him.

You tug his bottoms down just enough to free his swollen cock and heavy balls, it’s always a delight to see him hard and ready for you.

“Tan guapo,” you murmur appreciatively, your nails lightly scratching at his thighs, leaving a trail of tingling heat in their wake as you move up his beautifully tanned torso. His skin ripples with goosebumps at the light touches, aching for more.

You undo the remaining buttons of his shirt, sliding the fabric off his broad shoulders, exposing more of his skin to your eager hands. As you straddle his lap, he inhales sharply, the realization hitting him all at once— you’re completely bare and dripping wet for him.

It has the need to touch you growing unbearable.

Your hands glide to his shoulders, massaging the tight muscles there, and he sighs contentedly, tension slowly easing from his body under your soothing fingers.

He’s so close to losing control, and you revel in it, knowing that you’re the one who can drive him to the edge and pull him back just as easily.

“Wanna know a secret?” you whisper, leaning in closer, your soft tits pressing against his heated chest, mouth hovering just over his ear.

Javier tilts his chin up in response, a silent invitation for you to continue. As you lower yourself on his lap, his cock slides between your slick, sticky folds, and your hips begin to move in a slow, deliberate grind, coating him with your wetness.

“I’d been in your apartment back in Colombia before that night I blew you,” you confess in a sultry murmur, the words slipping from your lips so sinfully.

His head tilts slightly, curiosity piqued, and when he speaks, his voice drops to that smooth, dangerously seductive tone that sends shivers down your spine— he’d make a killing as a sex phone operator. “What do you mean?”

You’ve never told him about your little Goldilocks moment, that sneaky visit to his apartment when he wasn’t home. But tonight, with your bodies entwined and his cock teasing your entrance, it feels like a good time to reveal it.

“You went to Cali to catch Gilberto Rodríguez, leaving your place empty for me to explore. It was so exhilarating, all the little things I learned about you by snooping around.” A needy whine escapes your lips as the thick head of his cock brushes against your clit. Your pussy clenches around nothing, begging for more, desperate for him to finally slip inside you.

His brows furrow, intrigue and lust clouding his expression, and you can feel the strain tightening his body as you pick up the pace, grinding down harder against him.

“I couldn’t help myself,” you continue, slurring your words, “I was so turned on by the smell of your cologne lingering on the pillows… and my mind… well, se puso un poco imaginativa al pensar en que rico te sentirías jodiéndome.”

His fists clench at his sides, knuckles white as they twitch with the urge to touch you. “¿Qué hiciste, gatita?” 

You let the heavy pause linger between you, suspense hanging, before finally biting your lip and confessing, “I fucked myself on your pillow.”

Javier’s reaction is immediate, a growl rumbling deep in his throat as the image of you humping against his pillow while he was away seizes his thoughts. His teeth bare into a snarl, the thought of you pleasuring yourself in his space while he was gone intensifies his arousal.

“It felt amazing,” you purr, “I screamed your name when I came. Best solo orgasm I’ve ever had. All thanks to you, agent.”

The guttural sound he lets out has your thighs tensing as he bucks his hips up, adding more friction to the slick heat of your pussy. “Jesus Christ, you’re a naughty fucking thing, aren’t you?”

“Only for you,” you whisper, your tongue darting out to lick along his jawline, your breath hitching as the pressure builds within you, your movements against his now drenched cock growing more frantic.

“Show me,” he pants out, rough and demanding. “Show me how you did it.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Gripping his broad shoulders for support, you adjust your angle as you begin to replicate the way you rode his pillow that night. You lose yourself in it entirely, going absolutely feral on his cock. 

The coarse hairs at the base of him brush against your sensitive cunt, adding a delicious juxtaposition that makes your toes curl.

You rut against him with purpose, your slick folds gliding over his length, hips rolling in a rhythm that has him cursing under his breath. His cock twitches with each movement, a symphony of your shared, ragged breaths and the wet, erotic friction between you filling the space.

As you move, you can feel the traction in your core winding tighter and tighter, his body responding to every little thing you do.

You sigh his name out, your voice wavering with the approach of your orgasm. You’re so close, teetering on the edge, and he can sense it. His husky voice cuts through the haze of pleasure, a dark, encouraging sneer that prickles at your skin.

“That’s right, gatita, come all over this cock, my perverted little bitch.”

That delicious line of degradation is the final push you need. You lock up, figure glistening with sweat as you shatter around him, your juices soaking him as your hips stutter out of control. Pathetic, broken moans escape your lips, your mind absolutely lost.

Javier’s had enough of not being able to touch you. As you ride out the last waves of your orgasm, he wraps his strong arms around you, effortlessly repositioning you so that he’s on top while keeping you nestled in his lap.

With a swift motion, he rips the blindfold from his eyes and takes your heels off, drinking in the sight of your figure beneath him. The darkened room only heightens his need, your sexy silhouette and the kitten mask driving him up the fucking wall.

He moves quickly, grabbing his thick shaft at the base and slapping it against your sensitive clit a few times, watching with satisfaction as you quiver from the sharp, teasing sensation.

His palm spreads at your lower back, steadying you, then with a grunt, he sheathes himself inside your pussy.

“Fuck,” he drawls the curse word out, clenching his jaw. The sweet burn of him stretching you out has your skin buzzing, your nerves on fire, and he’s lost in the way your tight, wet pussy grips him perfectly, just as it always does.

“You’re so big, Javi. Feels so good,” you whimper breathlessly as you tighten your arms around him, pulling him closer.

The praise spurs him on, and with a rough groan, he sucks a nipple into his mouth, biting down just enough to make you gasp.

Your reaction drives him wild, and he snaps his hips sharply against yours, filling you to the hilt in one powerful thrust.

Your yelp of satisfaction echoes in the room as he starts to fuck you hard and fast, the pace relentless, designed to push you both toward that blissful release.

Your hand reaches back to steady yourself further against the couch, fingers digging into the cushions as he drives into you with urgency.

The rhythm he sets is maddening, your hips meeting his with equal fervor. Your lips find his in a messy, desperate kiss, neither of you caring that your mask is in the way. It’s something you’ve gotten used to by now.

“Taking it so good, gatita,” your pussy clenches around him, “Soy el unico que te lo puede dar asi, don’t you fucking forget it.”

The memory of that other man, his wandering eyes and bold advances, has all but faded.

Jealousy has awakened something so primal and attractive in Javier, a fierceness that makes your pulse race. You love it when he’s like this— unyielding, dominant, marking you as his own.

Each ragged breath he takes fuels the rough rhythm of his body against yours, leaving you aching in the best way, a deep satisfaction blossoming alongside the lingering soreness.

“R-Remind me, then,” you whisper, barely audible, caught between a plea and a challenge.

He responds with a brutal thrust, stilling once he’s buried balls deep inside, his thick cock filling your needy cunt.

Javier’s hands are unrelenting as he pushes you flat against the couch, his broad figure hovering over you. One hand snakes down to your throat, his fingers pressing into your soft skin, cutting off just enough air to make you gasp and your vision to blur.

“You need a reminder?” His voice is dangerously low, the mocking tone has your clit throbbing almost painfully as his grip tightens, pulling you closer. “That fucking ring on your finger not enough?”

You move your hips against him, desperate for more, but his hand flies down to your waist, fingers digging in roughly to halt your movements. A pitiful whimper escapes you, your need for his cock all consuming.

His hold around your neck loosens just enough for you to draw in a shuddering breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “P-Please, Javi.”

He answers with a cruel smirk, slamming you back down, his hips pulling away until only the swollen head remains inside you. Then, without warning, he plunges back in, forcing a scream of his name from your lips as he begins to fuck you, each stroke filling you completely as he gives you exactly what you’ve been pleading for.

The air is thick with the sounds of your desperate, mingled moans, your bodies slick with sweat as you move together like wild animals in heat. 

His hand remains firm on your throat, keeping you pinned beneath his weight as he shifts your legs higher on his waist, opening you up even more. The other hand moves to your breasts, his palm cracking against one and then the other, sending them bouncing with each slap.

Your acrylics scratch at the wrist of the hand that’s around your neck, the engagement ring glinting in the moonlight that floods the space, casting a silver sheen over the heated scene.

His eyes hone in on the jewelry, the grip on you unbending. “You’re mine,” he growls, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust that makes your eyes roll back, your body helpless against his claim. “Say it.”

“I—” Your voice falters, the words choked off by the sudden, electrifying pinch of his fingers on your clit. You find yourself chasing more of that feeling.

“Fucking say it,” he demands again, this time more gruffly, as if not hearing you declare yourself to him is painful. His fingers slap your bundle of nerves, and you jerk, back arching taut off the couch.

“I’m yours, Javi, fuck, I’m yours,” you cry out, the confession spilling from your lips as you writh beneath him. “I only want you— your cock, your mouth, your touch— everything. Oh,” you moan, your voice breaking as his relentless pounding has your cunt pulsating around his length.

“So close, baby, I’m about to come, please don’t stop.” The overwhelming pleasure builds to a fever pitch, leaving you quivering and completely at his mercy. 

Your desperate words satisfy him, a dark hunger finally sated as he leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. 

Your fleshy walls tighten around his cock as you shatter completely, coming undone. You pant and moan into his mouth, and he drinks in every tremor of your climax.

After a moment, he pulls back just enough to let you catch your breath. “On your knees, gatita.”

His voice is all hoarse and authoritative, leaving no room for hesitation. 

Although your body is still shaking, you obey, sluggishly slipping to your knees with a slow, dazed blink.

He towers above you, all dominating and manly, as he reaches down, pinching your chin between his fingers. He tilts your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes making you whimper.

His cock hovers before you, and you can’t help but admire the mess you’ve made on him. Without a word, he guides it between your swollen lips, and you eagerly accept him, your tongue swirling around the tip before you wrap your lips around him. Sucking your cheeks tight as you move, he groans, his large hand at the back of your neck.

The taste of yourself mixed with his musk is addicting as you slide him deeper into your hot mouth, inch by inch, until he’s buried completely down your throat, a wet gag sounding out as you struggle to take all of him. Your hands grip his thighs for support while you work to clean him off.

“Shit,” he grunts, pulling you off his throbbing cock and jerking himself furiously over your open mouth. You stick your tongue out, pretty eyes locking onto his, heavy-lidded and filled with lust. “Gonna look so pretty with my cum all over you,” he rasps. It’s all the warning you get before he groans low in his throat, his hips jerking as spurts of his hot, milky load shoot from his swollen slit.

The warm fluid lands everywhere— on your tongue, splattering across your kitten mask, dripping down your chin. Some of it trickles onto the diamonds that gleam around your neck, and the sight of you like this is so fucking perfect, it sends a surge of possessive pride straight to his heart.

With the little energy he has left, he mumbles, “Stay just like that,” before quickly walking over to the entertainment center. He grabs the Polaroid camera, turning to you as he snaps a photo, capturing the erotic moment.

There you are— naked with your face covered in his seed, a sultry glint in your eyes, the kitten mask perched prettily on your face.

“Hermosa,” he breathes, admiring his work, his gaze worshipful as he lowers the camera.

Once he’s got your photo, you curl your tongue back into your mouth, the saltiness making you hum at how yummy he tastes.

Your fingers delicately collect the remnants from your chin, your neck, and even your mask, before slipping them into your mouth to savor every last drop. The way you devour it makes his breath hitch all over again.

Javier smiles down at you, his gaze softening as he gently helps you up from your knees. He reaches for the edge of your mask and slowly lifts it from your face and tosses it aside, wanting nothing between you as he leans in for a kiss.

His lips meet yours with a gentleness that makes your heart flutter, the exhiliration of your fucking melting into something far sweeter.

“I love you,” he murmurs, those three little words filled with a depth of emotion that makes you feel like you’re floating. The tenderness in his voice, the way he holds you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world, makes your heart swell, your body and soul wrapped up in the love you have for him.

“I love you more,” you whisper back warmly, giving him a final, sweet peck. The avidity of the night begins to ebb, leaving the two of you in a serene, exhausted state.

Javier gathers you into his strong arms, holding you close as he carries you to the bathroom. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest is comforting, and you nuzzle into his neck, feeling completely at peace.

Once inside, he sets you down carefully, his hands never straying far from you as he begins to run a hot shower. The sound of the water cascading down is soothing, steam filling the room. He steps behind you, unclasping your necklace and setting it on the counter.

He steps into the shower with you, standing together under the droplets. His hands move over your figure lovingly, lathering you up in that soap of yours that he loves the scent of.

He’s playful in his affection, cheekily cupping your breasts before sliding his hands down to your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze, making you laugh softly as he finishes rinsing you off. 

You return the favor, your fingers tracing the contours of his toned figure, memorizing every inch of the man you’re about to marry. It still doesn’t even feel real.

After you finish your respective night routines, Javier tugs you toward the bed, and you follow willingly. The cool sheets feel like a welcome embrace as you slip under them, and he immediately pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you, your bodies fitting together perfectly.

You look up at him, a surge of pure love and endearment welling up inside you.

“You make me so happy, Javi,” you murmur, your fingers caressing the damp curls at his forehead. The sincerity in your voice is unmistakable, and you see the way it touches him deeply. “I can’t wait to be your wife. Just saying it makes me all giddy.” You giggle, and his mouth quirks up into that familiar half-smile you adore so much, tilting his head to place a kiss against the diamond of your ring.

“I can’t wait either,” he replies, his thumb lazily stroking your cheek as he gazes down into your eyes. “You’ve given me everything I never knew I needed. You have no idea how happy you make me, corazón. I’m the luckiest fucker in the world.”

You lean in, pressing your lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s a kiss that conveys everything words can’t— the depth of your love, the excitement for your future, the joy of knowing you’ve found your forever.

[spooky-pomegranate]

Eyes on Fire (pt 6)

*Enemies to Lovers inspired by the Year Zero music video*

Papa Emeritus II x Reader (18+) Word Count: 9.3k Read on AO3 Get caught up: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Summary: Your daily life is upended after becoming Secondo's assistant. Meanwhile, Secondo comes to a startling revelation as he struggles to keep his emotions in check.

*apologies for the delay. literally fell down a flight of stairs and broke my hand. but we're back baby and better than ever. (Dividers by @wrathofrats)

Out beyond the summer gardens, there is a seldomly walked path. It twists and turns around broken trees, large boulders, and the placid waters of a glacial lake. There’s nothing important on the path anymore, or at least that’s what the upper clergy tells its youngest siblings, but the footpath is dangerous. It’s been decades since the ministry diverted funds away from maintaining it to build a straighter and safer walkway from the Abbey down to the lake’s oftused beachfront. Any markers that used to stand along the old route are long gone and the only indication a path used to exist at all are the faint traces of gravel that peek out from blankets of fallen leaves and overgrown grass. 

Most sane people avoid the old path. It’s not worth the risk they say. But every morning two creatures, one man and one ghoul, walk that crooked and crumbling path and neither is afraid…because they both know a secret. That at the very end of the path lies the most magical place on the Abbey’s grounds. 

The sun was still asleep as Secondo and Alpha walked along the forgotten pathway until they reached a chapel. Although it should be noted the chapel didn’t look much like a place of worship. It much better resembled an ancient ruin. Only three stone walls remained standing. Two were at half their original height and the third somehow still towered over Secondo’s head. There was no door. It had rotted away centuries ago, and the floor made of stone, was covered in a layer of dark green moss that was so thick it felt like a heavily weighted carpet underfoot. The only piece of furniture left in the ruins was an altar that had been crafted long ago from beautifully marbling petrified wood. But despite its well-worn appearance, when Secondo found this place years ago he immediately knew it was special. He could feel it in the air.  

Anyone who enters the Abbey, whether they are a follower of the Dark Lord or not, can feel dark magic around them. It’s often been described as an incorporeal haze. Although unseen, it lingers in every corner of the building and sits a bit heavy around you. In certain places, like the crypts and the ghoul dens, the haze is stronger. You can feel it physically. It brushes against your skin like a soft summer breeze or the flutter of silk bedsheets. But in all his years living in the Abbey Secondo never found anywhere where the haze was as strong as it was in the old chapel. 

So it’s here that every morning Secondo comes to start his day, to offer his thanks, and to hope that maybe today will be the day the Dark Lord finally speaks to him. Normally each morning in the crumbling chapel is the same. Secondo kneels before the altar repeats a round of prayers and offers any confession he deems necessary. Alpha kneels quietly beside Secondo and speaks only when spoken to. Any prayer the fire ghoul makes to his Lord is a silent one. This routine never changes. Every day is the same. 

But the morning after your stunt in Secondo’s bedroom, things went differently. Before Secondo could kneel Alpha was apologizing, spilling out words faster than Secondo could acknowledge them. 

“I’m so sorry about last night Papa. I didn’t want to disobey you. I should have never allowed it. I didn’t mean to offend-” Secondo held up a gloved hand and the fire ghoul caught his tongue. 

“It’s fine, Alpha.” 

The ghoul’s eyes snapped from the mossy ground up to his master, “Really? You’re not upset?” 

“Really,” Secondo answered truthfully. “I asked you to make sure she wanted for nothing and you did as I asked. I cannot be upset with you for that.” 

“Thank you, Papa,” Alpha sighed before bowing his horned head and inhaling deeply. Secondo eyed the ghoul carefully, looking over every inch of his guard. Alpha looked tired. Worn down. Exhausted. His shoulders rolled forward and his orange eyes looked more dull than normal. 

Secondo wondered if the fire ghoul was as burnt out as he was. 

Since his summoning two decades ago Alpha had always been a quiet ghoul. He hardly ever initiated conversations with humans and if the whispers around the Abbey were to be taken as truth, Alpha’s silence was born from his deep-seated distaste of human nature. Secondo knew that wasn’t really true but he saw how siblings often gave Alpha a wide berth when they passed him in the halls. He heard the names they called him. Most siblings avoided ghouls. But they practically ran from Alpha. 

Secondo never understood the cruelty. He had never really minded the fire ghoul’s reticence. He’d actually asked Primo for care of Alpha because he liked the ghoul’s quiet nature so much. It didn’t hurt that Alpha was more reliable and trustworthy than any sibling Secondo had ever met. 

And they had an understanding. 

Or so he thought. 

Secondo had always assumed that Alpha enjoyed their quiet moments together and lack of idle chit chat, but looking at the fire ghoul now he was starting to wonder if Alpha’s care was another item to add to his list of failures. Had he ignored signs that Alpha was struggling? Should he have been checking in with him more? Was Alpha suffering in silence like he was? Did he even like being by Secondo’s side? 

“Alpha?” 

“Yes.”

“Are you happy?” 

In all their time together Secondo had never asked Alpha that question. He wondered it many times but self-preservation had always held his tongue. Secondo had faults. He knew that. He wasn’t completely blind. But if Alpha hated him. If he hated his daily life then Secondo might just fall apart. He couldn’t be Papa alone. 

“What do you mean, Papa?” 

Santanas. 

He was going to have to spell it out. Secondo wanted to dig a hole in the moss under his feet and bury himself alive. 

“Are you happy by my side? Do you enjoy your life,” Secondo paused, swallowing against the self-preservation that had somehow turned to ash in his throat, “Do you enjoy your life with me?” 

Alpha blinked.

Secondo knew Ghouls were terrible liars. Something in their design made them brutally honest. It had something to do with being born from the brimstone of His fire. Or maybe it was because they were formed by the make of His hands? Secondo could never quite remember how the story went. Primo had told it to him so long ago when he was just a boy. But Secondo knew that while ghouls could joke and play around… for the most part they spoke plainly when asked direct questions. Normally that was something Secondo admired. He liked honesty. He liked people and creatures who spoke the truth. But right now Secondo wished Alpha was more human than hellspawn. He wished he would lie. He wished for anything but the truth because he knew it would sting. 

“No.” There it was. The answer he knew was coming. The sting hurt more than he’d expected. “No, most days I am not happy with you Papa.” 

Secondo turned away from Alpha and looked at the crumbling chapel wall. He felt like a fool. After so much failure the fire ghoul had been the only thing keeping him grounded. He’d been the only one who’d stood by his side. But now Secondo was realizing that maybe that was a bad thing. Maybe it was selfish to hold on so tight. Maybe he should set Alpha free. After all, why should two people drown in misery when one is far less cruel? 

“Would you like to return to Primo?” 

“No, Papa.” 

“Are you sure?” Secondo asked finding the courage to turn and look at his ghoul. “He will welcome you and your place in the band won’t change unless you want it to.” 

Alpha blinked again and Secondo tried to brace himself for another sting. “I don’t think my life here is about being happy. I know you’re doing important work and I want to be a part of your legacy.” 

Secondo didn’t know what to say. 

He didn’t know if he liked that answer. 

“But I was happy yesterday…” 

…with her. 

Alpha left the final two words unspoken and Secondo was thankful. His self-preservation was already teetering on the brink of collapse and he couldn’t bear to be pushed any further otherwise he’d have to die right here in this run-down place.

Secondo hummed in affirmation before closing his eyes. 

Alpha had been happy with you. 

You. 

Secondo thought of you. 

He thought of your eyes and how differently they had looked at Terzo last night. He thought of how happy and relaxed they’d been, pupils for once not blown wide from anger but instead sparkling with joy. Their iridescent color simply shining. He thought of your hair and how he’d finally seen it free from your veil. He thought of how soft your curls looked falling in waves around your bare shoulders. He thought of your face and how your lips had twisted up into that saccharine smile. A smile he’d never seen before and wondered if he’d ever see again. 

You had been happy. 

Alpha had been happy. 

Everyone in his entire damn room had been happy. 

There had been so much laughter, dancing, and joy. There had been so much happiness so much glee…and then he’d ruined it. Snuffed it out like depriving a flame oxygen. Secondo took a deep breath and tried to push away his own self-loathing. 

He thought of you again and the ache in his chest started to burn. It spread moving from deep in his lungs out until everything burned. Then suddenly Secondo started to cough. He coughed so hard that his eyes watered and Alpha immediately came to his side. A clawed hand gripping his shoulder. 

Secondo waved him off, trying to compose himself but the haze… it had never been this thick in the chapel before. Secondo could feel it sticking to his throat and sliding down into his belly. And then for the first time in his life, Secondo tasted dark magic. It was sweet like honey and floral like roses. 

If only he could have known how he would be chasing that flavor for the rest of his life. 

Apparently, you weren’t just Secondo’s Imperatrix. You were his assistant now too. 

You showed up to Secondo’s office at six am as he’d asked and were greeted with the biggest stack of paperwork you’d ever seen. The daunting thing dwarfed the tiny desk you’d been given and spilled onto the floor and over the carpet in Secondo’s office. There wasn’t much of an order to things and Secondo’s instructions on getting through the pile had been curt. Sign these. Edit this. Transcribe that. 

But truthfully you were thankful he didn’t have much more to say to you. You didn’t want to talk about what happened last night. You’d done enough of your own cross-examination, staying up half the night replaying it over and over and over again in your head while trying and failing to fall asleep. 

You’d nearly let him kiss you. What in the actual fuck had you been thinking? Papa Emeritus the Second. You’d actually let him corner you, and touch you, and tease you, and for some ungodly reason when it was all happening, you had wanted it. You had wanted him. Something in you had shifted and you became an animal motivated solely by the lust of their heat. Warmth had coiled in your belly like a snake and even a cold shower hadn’t been enough to quench what he’d started. Embarrassingly the only thing that eventually helped you get to sleep was the little battery-powered toy you kept in your bedside table. 

In the daylight of his office, knowing that you had made yourself come thinking about Secondo made you squirm. All that teasing had probably meant nothing to him anyway. You were probably just another sister in a long line of siblings he played games with. You felt toyed with like a mouse batted about by a house cat. Embarrassment was creeping in, especially since he hadn’t spent more than a few seconds looking at you since sat down at your new desk. 

Secondo was focused on his own stack of paperwork. While it wasn’t nearly the same size as yours he never seemed to take his eyes off it. He barely even took a second to blink. The man worked like a dog. 

If Secondo wasn’t signing papers he was on the phone. And when he wasn’t on the phone he was writing sermons and speeches and internal documents that were somehow all passed due. He never took a break, stretched his legs, or stopped for a sip of water. With everything expected of him, you started to realize there wasn’t time. There was always more to do, someone to answer to, or something that needed to be fixed. But Secondo was like a machine. He never ran out of steam. All you could do was try your best to keep up and before you knew it half the day was gone. 

Your head was pounding from so much reading and writing that you nearly cried tears of joy when the lunch bells rang. 

“Should I call the kitchens and tell them you’ll be in the dining room shortly, Papa?” 

You stood up for the first time in hours and walked around the desk, feeling the stiffness in your legs from sitting for so long. Secondo finally looked up from his work and his mismatched eyes met yours.

“No, I’m not hungry. Just bring me a cup of coffee and some water from the dining hall,” he replied coldly before turning back to his papers. You nodded and scurried out of his office thankful to finally look at anything besides the horde of papers. 

As you walked through the Abbey toward the dining hall you spotted Mountain as he tended to some of the Abbey’s ficus trees in the main hall. With a pair of sheers in his hand, he looked up and offered you a warm smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. 

“Hey, little flower. How’s your head?” 

“Ugh,” you groaned posting up against the cool stone wall as you watched him primp and prune the small tree. “I don’t know why Alpha likes absinthe. I felt like there were bees in my head this morning.” 

Mountain chuckled before setting down his sheers and picking up a water canister at his feet. “Well, I had a great time. Dew won’t shut up about it either. Says he wants you to throw him a birthday party next week.” 

“Wasn’t his birthday last month?” 

“Yeah,” Mountain said moving further down the hall to another cluster of trees that needed watering, “but he said the one we threw him was lame.”  

“What?!” you cried following Mountain as he inspected the soil, digging his large fingers into one of the ficus’s pots. “He literally rode a bear!”

“I know! That’s exactly what I said. Little guy’s never satisfied,” he said shaking his head. “But anyway, how are you? Or maybe a better question is how much trouble are you in with Papa?” 

You paused for a moment and watched Mountain work. His fingertips idly traced the soft petals of a ficus tree inspecting it for rot and insect damage. It was amazing how such a large creature could care for something so fragile. 

“None,” you answered.“ I think Papa promoted me.” 

Mountain’s fingers froze over the leaves before he turned to look at you fully. “He what?” 

“I’m his assistant now I guess. He asked me to come to his office this morning and I’ve just been doing paperwork since. I was headed to get him some coffee now actually.” 

Even though Mountain was masked and the only sliver of his face you could see were his emerald eyes you could tell he was shocked. His dark green pupils blinked at you slowly, like he was trying to calculate the speed of the earth’s orbit divided by its distance to the sun. 

“You’ve got to be the only person in this place who can get away with what you did last night.” 

“Yeah maybe…” you trailed off before suddenly remembering something important you’d been meaning to ask Mountain. “Hey. While we're here I have a weird question for you. It’s about Primo’s garden.” 

“Shoot, little one.” 

“Have you seen any snakes out there lately?” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen any actually. Pretty sure Primo does some sort of magic to keep them away. Looking for a new pet?”

Apparently, you were going to have to take a trip out to the gardens and ask the old Papa some questions. But that was fine you were overdue for a chat with the eldest Emeritus anyway. 

“Nah. It’s a long story. There’s a lot I need to tell you. But I really need to get going,” you said picking up Mountain’s watering can and handing it back to the big ghoul. “I probably shouldn’t test Papa’s patience anymore after last night.”

“Why don’t you come to the dens tonight? Aeth is cooking and I can make you a batch of the new tea I’ve been working on.” 

“Sure Mount,” you called out over your shoulder already walking toward the dining hall, “See you then.”  

The dining hall was busy. 

Siblings and clergy members piled in from all corners of the Abbey, settling down at the long wooden tables for their midday meal. The room smelled of hearty stew and freshly baked bread. Summer was ending quickly and the kitchen staff had already started to transition from lighter fare to heavier, colder-weather meals. You’d miss the strawberry salads and cold gazpacho but fall was your favorite. Spiced cider, fresh apples from the orchard, warm shepherd's pie, those were the best. 

You grabbed a large tray from the end of the buffet and waited in line. With every minute that passed a quiet pounding started to grow against your temples. 

Thud. Thud.  

Thud. Thud. 

Thud. Thud. 

You could feel it. A migraine was starting to build. The warm food couldn’t come quickly enough. 

As you approached the front of the line, you selected a portion of the hearty stew with chunks of tender venison and root vegetables, a slice of warm crusty bread, and a generous helping of crisp apple slices drizzled with honey. 

“Is that all Sister?” One of the kitchen staff, an older brother with dark hair greying around his ears, asked. 

Thud. Thud.  

Thud. Thud. 

Thud. Thud. 

The pounding in your head grew louder. 

“Actually uh…” you stammered, looking down at your tray and smelling the delicious food. “Can I have a second serving of the same thing?” 

“Sure thing,” the brother replied with a kind smile, ladling another portion of the stew into a second bowl. 

Secondo might get pissed but you were going to bring him back food. If he was anything like you, or even remotely human, you wagered he was sporting a similarly splitting headache. 

You carried the loaded tray before collecting two cups of coffee and two glasses of water from the drink station. Balancing the stacked tray, you navigated through the bustling hall and carefully avoided any wandering feet and stray elbows. But just as you were about to walk out the door a high-pitched voice called your name. 

“Sister… sister wait up.” The corners of Sister Luciana’s lips quirked upward, but her twisted and forced smile didn’t reach her eyes as she jogged over to you. 

“Sister Luciana,” you replied, setting your heavy tray down on a nearby table. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh aren’t you so sweet,” she cooed and you had to bite your lip to keep from rolling your eyes. “I just wanted to see if you’re okay. No one’s seen you in two days and I’ve been so worried about you.” 

Satanas. How fake could one person be? 

“Thank you for your concern, Sister Luciana,” you replied politely, masking your annoyance. “I was under the weather but I’m better now.” 

It’d be a cold day in hell before you’d tell Luciana the truth that you’d blacked out in the catacombs after talking to Lucifer and were held hostage by Papa in his suite for 24 hours. 

“Glad to hear you’re feeling better,” Sister Luciana replied. Her eyes scanned you from head to toe like she was trying to catch the lie on you. “I gotta tell ya I heard some of the younger sisters talking, you know how they like to gossip, and some of them seem to think you’ve been promoted to Secondo’s assistant. There’s no way that’s true right? He wouldn’t choose you for that.” Luciana’s eyes darted from you to the tray and the two servings of stew steaming on it. 

It was people like Luciana who reminded you why you avoided friendships with siblings. Anyone overhearing your conversation probably thought she was a concerned friend. Merely a sweet sister who was worried about you after your prolonged absence. But you knew better. This conversation had nothing to do with you. Luciana only ever looked out for herself. If she was here in the dining room at lunch it meant she wasn’t in Papa’s dining room. She was just worried that someone was taking away her access to Papa. And for a sibling like Luciana power and status were everything. 

“You know how rumors spread like wildfire around here,” you said, forcing a casual laugh. “But who knows what goes on behind Papa’s doors right?”

The skepticism was obvious in Sister Luciana's eyes, but you tried to keep your expression neutral. She smiled at you again and wished you better health. Luckily you were able to slink away without her pestering you further. 

You briskly walked through the halls of the Abbey, the tray heavy in your hands as you made your way back to Secondo's office. The pounding in your head had only gotten worse after talking with Luciana, and with each step, you could feel your pulse beat through your skull. 

When you opened the door to his office, Secondo was in the same place you’d left him, seated at his desk with the big stack of papers in front of him. His brow was still furrowed deep in concentration. 

“I brought you some lunch,” you said, setting the tray down on the tiny open corner of your desk. “I know you asked just for coffee, but they had stew today and it just smelled so good I thought you might want some.” 

For the first time all morning, Secondo looked up from his work. His eyes darted between the tray of warm food and you. 

He stood from his desk and you braced yourself for a reprimanding. You closed your eyes and waited for the fire and fury to rain down on you. 

Thud. Thud.  

Thud. Thud. 

Thud. Thud. 

The pounding in your head shifted to your heart. 

Thud. Thud.  

Thud. Thud. 

Thud. Thud. 

It was going to burst. 

You shot your hand to your chest and rubbed tiny circles trying to massage away the pain. 

But then the cool slide of leather brushed against your chin and you opened your eyes. Pain forgotten, Secondo tilted your face to meet his gaze. You stared into marble white and mossy green. You had expected his eyes to darken the way they did when he was angry, the green becoming nearly black and the white more piercing than an arrow. But Secondo wasn’t looking at you like that. 

He looked thankful, pleased, and dare you say it… glad. 

There was a moment before you remembered to breathe. 

You could smell him. Cologne, spice, and incense. The swirling muddled scent clung to everything. You swallowed it all down but the beast from last night returned and it wanted more. 

To taste… would it be so bad to push forward and just have a taste of him?  

Your lips parted and you breathed in deeply. 

“Thank you,” he said simply, his voice barely above a whisper as his thumb brushed against your cheek. “You didn’t have to bring me this.”

Then without another word, Secondo’s gloved hand slipped from your jaw, he picked up his bowl of stew and returned to his desk. 

Thud. Thud.  

Thud. Thud. 

Thud. Thud. 

As Secondo walked away the pulse in your heart returned to your head. 

You’d almost let him do it again. 

You idiot. 

You foolish and reckless fucking idiot. 

What the fuck was he doing? 

Had he lost his damn mind? 

Between this morning's incident in the chapel and whatever the fuck was happening to him now Secondo needed a minute to just… be. He needed to collect himself. 

He was thankful for the stew. The monotonous motion of simply lifting his spoon from the bowl to his mouth and back again gave him some cover. And he was thankful for it because he was spiraling. His mind was all over the place and if he’d even pretended to go back to his sermon he was sure you would have seen right through him. 

He’d touched you. 

Again. 

He had touched you. 

The same way he had last night and it hadn’t been some kind of power play or show of dominance this time. He’d touched you simply because he’d wanted to thank you but words hadn’t felt like enough. But why… why didn’t words feel like enough? You’d just brought him soup. You hadn’t brought him the moon. 

Last night he had meant to tease you. All he’d wanted was to get you worked up again but somehow he’d ended up touching you. He’d cupped your jaw and slid into your space before even realizing what he was doing. And you looked at him the same way you had just now. 

Your lips had parted, your breath had held, your eyes had softened, pupils growing and darkening, lashes fluttering, cheeks turning red, and you had looked… you had looked just for a moment… just for the smallest sliver of a second like you didn’t hate him. Like he wasn’t a monster. And you had…

No. 

Stop it. 

Focus. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Secondo cleared his mind and forced himself to concentrate. You weren’t supposed to be a distraction. You were here to learn from him and to serve Him. Whatever tricks his mind was playing on him he would squash. He would bury them inside just like he did so many other of his emotions. He had to remember what was important. What was at stake. 

The catacombs. 

The book. 

His voice. 

His guidance. 

His legacy. 

You were another test. He couldn’t forget that so Secondo ordered himself to focus. He finished his lunch quickly and tried his best to avoid looking at you as he returned to his work… but the ache in his chest persisted, a gnawing hunger that had nothing to do with the stew he had just eaten. 

You sighed as you stared down at a particularly confusing text and Secondo couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed back from his desk. His papers now forgotten and stood abruptly. His chair screeched against the stone floor, echoing loudly in the room. 

He needed air. He needed space. He needed to get away from the suffocating walls that seemed to close in on him every time you were around.

“Papa?” you called out softly. 

Secondo ignored you and stormed past your desk, throwing open the heavy wooden doors to the hall. 

“Hello, son.” 

“Fucking hell!” 

Secondo jumped back from the door. In his jumbled mess of a mind, he’d forgotten about the meeting with his father. He glanced over at the clock above your desk.

Shit. 

He’d forgotten about the meeting he was supposed to have thirty minutes ago. 

“It’s rude enough that you didn’t come to my office on time. Now you’re going to just stand there and block the door. Move boy!” 

Secondo stuttered for a moment before stepping aside, allowing Papa Nihil to enter. Sister Imperator trailed closely behind him, pushing his oxygen tank as it creaked across the floor. In the corner of the room, Secondo saw you jump up from your desk and close the door behind Imperator. He’d forgotten to tell you about this meeting too. 

Shit. 

He hadn’t planned for anyone to be here for this. Meetings with his father never usually went well, and he’d like to spare himself the shame but it was too late to send you away now. 

Nihil and Imperator shuffled past Secondo and sat in the two tufted armchairs by the fireplace. Secondo moved to follow them, standing in front of the fire, and resting his elbow on the mantle. The heat from the flames licked at his back as he looked down at the elder pair. 

Nihil had always been a rotten bastard and a poor excuse for a father. How he’d managed to hold onto so much power in the Clergy, always amazed Secondo. He’d assumed, as did many others, that he would have been cast out of the church many moons ago if it weren’t for Imperator. It was she, he would need to placate today. She was the real power player in the room. 

Through the corner of his eye, Secondo watched as you sat back down at your desk and opened a little black notebook, readying yourself to take notes. He wanted to tell you not to bother. He’d never read them anyway. 

“Your lack of punctuality is concerning, my son,” Papa Nihil rasped, his voice muffled through the mask he held against his face. “Let’s hope you haven’t forgotten what we’ve come to discuss.” 

“I haven’t forgotten. I’ve been working hard on it. Last night I finished a new song. It’s called-” Imperator raised a hand silencing Secondo. 

“The clergy has concerns Papa. Have you reconsidered their offer?” 

If anyone else in the Abbey besides Imperator had asked that question Secondo would have barked out a list of insults so vile Satan would have blushed. 

“I understand,” Secondo said, forcing his tone to remain composed. “But I think the album is headed in a much better direction than the last time we spoke. Last night I-” 

“I don’t understand why he even needs to write a new album. Why can’t he just sing my songs and a few of his brothers? Wasn’t that the whole point of sending him out on that little tour last month? To see if this stronzo’s could even sing?” As Nihil prattled on Secondo glanced over at you, hoping to catch your eye, but you were too busy scribbling away in your notebook to notice him.

Imperator sighed loudly and Secondo looked back at the elder pair sitting before him. 

“You know why we need a new album, Nihil,” she scolded. “We need more followers. And new music is the best way to do that. It’s also why we have concerns over your album, Secondo. How will we attract more people to join us if your album is full of morose and macabre dronings? The clergy simply thinks a little outside collaboration will help spice things up. Help lift the veil a bit. Do you understand?” 

Secondo clenched his jaw and tried to swallow the boiling rage that threatened to spill over. The nerve of them to suggest diluting his art with outsiders, people who weren’t even members of their congregation. His music was sacred, a vessel for the Dark One's message, not some commodity to be watered down for the masses. 

“Honestly son, no one wants to hear it. Sathanas your lyrics aren’t even in English! Per Ad Ass whatever. See, I can’t even remember the damn title. How do you expect anyone to-” 

“I liked it.” 

Secondo’s eyes snapped to yours. 

You’d set your notebook down and were staring back at him, a meek little smile spread across your face. You pushed away from the desk and crossed the room, stopping beside him. Secondo swore the flames behind him jumped when the fabric of your habit brushed against his robes. 

Imperator raised an eyebrow, looking between you and Secondo with mild interest. Papa Nihil rolled his eyes.

“Sister if you're trying to get in this stronzo’s pants you don’t have-”

“Nihil enough,” Imperator growled, before turning toward you. “Please. Go on sister. What did you like about the song?”

Your eyes drifted from Secondo’s to the floor. Whatever had emboldened you a moment ago was slipping away. Your voice was soft as you started to speak. 

“I thought it was beautiful. I… I couldn’t get it out of my head after I heard it. There’s something… I don’t know something ethereal about it.”

As you shook your head Secondo balled his fist by his side. He wanted to tell you that you didn't have to do this. You didn’t need to stick up for him. Nihil would always have something negative to say and for as long as he’d known Imperator she had never been his biggest supporter. But your eyes flickered from the floor to his and all his thoughts went out the window.

“No, maybe ethereal’s not the right word. It feels like… well it feels like that moment when we all gather together for Black Mass on All Hallows Eve. Everyone’s excited. A little nervous. Lust. Devotion. Passion. All those feelings we share builds that electricity in the air. You can feel it in your chest. That night it… it feels like the best of us. Like the best of our church, I mean. Everyone gathered together on the one night of the year we all looked forward to most. When the veil is thin and for most of us it’s the closest we’ll ever get to Him.” 

“Sister,” Nihil whined impatiently, taking a drag of his oxygen, and tapping his long fingernails against the armrest of the chair, “get to the point.” 

“I just mean. His song. Per Áspera Ad Inferí. It reminded me of why I’m a member of this church. It reminded me of why I’m here. Even if I didn’t understand the words I think it’s beautiful.” 

A TIDAL WAVE. 

A TORNADO.

AN AVALANCHE.

All three are natural disasters that consume. They claim every square inch of calm and bring complete chaos. Disrupting all that was. 

People can rebuild. They can lay out new foundations, frame new homes, and pave new roads. But life is never the same. It can’t go back. The world will never be the same once the snow tumbles down, the wave crashes in, and the winds wreak havoc. 

As Secondo looked at you he felt like one of those towns he’d seen on TV destroyed by such nature. His world would never be the same. Every thought that he had held was squeezed out. His world was disrupted. Interrupted. Changed. By you. 

Sathanas. 

He thought to himself. 

You’re beautiful. 

You’re so fucking goddamn beautiful. 

In was in that moment that Secondo realized you were the most stunning creature he had ever seen. He had denied it, pushed it down, and tried to bury his attraction to you and focus on other things like his papacy, the rituals, and the Dark Lord himself. But how could he ignore it now? How could he push it down and bury this feeling somewhere deep when you’d gone and said something like that? 

You went ahead and talked about the music… his music, like it meant something. Like it moved you. Like you had understood the very thing that moved him and motivated him to write it. He didn’t know when you’d heard it but that didn’t matter. You’d stormed into his mind now and there would be no rebuilding it to how it was before. He couldn’t ignore it. 

Maybe he should have seen it coming. Secondo was only a human. And so far humans haven’t figured out how to stop storms before they start so maybe he should have realized he wouldn’t be able to keep this feeling locked up forever. But he was here now, wrecking his brain. He saw you now. 

And you were so beautiful. 

His attraction had been there since day one, just simmering under the surface waiting for the right moment to boil over. But now it was happening at the most inopportune time and Secondo couldn’t put it off one more fucking second longer. 

He knew when this started. 

It had been the moment Imperator laid your photo out next to the others. He remembered it clearly. He was supposed to pick his first batch of Imperatrix’s. It was a high honor and an important duty as Papa but he hadn’t been able to pull his eyes off your picture. You were smiling, standing in the warm summer sun down by the lake. Your hair was undone, long, and flowing beautifully past your shoulders and you were wearing that sundress. The sweet little yellow thing with white flowers and a hemline landing just above your gorgeous thighs. 

You’d stolen all of his attention in that moment. So much so that he hadn’t even cared to look at photos of the others. He’d picked five more sisters at random. It’d been you he wanted. It’s been you he couldn’t wait to see in the dining room that first day. It’d been you he made sure was given the nicest suite. The one with the largest bath and the prettiest view of the summer gardens. He’d been disappointed when you’d told him you wouldn’t participate in the rituals but he’d tried to move on. The ritual was supposed to be only an offering after all. He’d been selfish to think of anything else. 

But Santhas how he wanted to kiss you right now. He could just wrap you up in his arms, yank off your veil, grab a fistful of your hair, and leave you breathless. He could have you panting, whining, begging for more. He could do it right here in front of his father and Sister Imperator. Or better yet he could kick them out, pick you up, and push you down against his desk and show how good he could make you feel with just his hands and mouth before he even used his cock. 

Fuck he could just-

“Why are we listening to this girl when she can’t even speak Latin?!” Nihil's ancient voice sliced through Secondo’s thoughts. “She doesn’t know what would make a good performer. Sister,” Nihil turned to face Imperator in his chair, “he is not ready.” 

“I may not speak Latin,” you snapped, taking a step toward Nihil and lowering your voice until it became an angry growl, “but I know that Papa commands every room he walks into. So why should a stage be so different? Why wouldn’t he be ready?” 

You took another step toward Nihil, positioning yourself in between the old man and your Papa but Secondo couldn’t let you throw yourself to the wolves. He reached for you, grabbing your wrist and gently pulling you back to his side. He could feel your pulse throb with fury as his gloved fingers held you back. 

He wanted to pull you even closer and hold you against his chest but Secondo stopped himself. He was thankful for your defense but couldn't let you provoke Nihil any further, not when the consequences for you both could be dire. He needed you near. He needed you close. He wouldn’t let Nihil send you away for your insolence. 

Not now. 

Not now that you had finally consumed him. 

Imperator leaned back in her chair and observed, watching the exchange between you, Secondo, and Papa Nihil. She rested a finger on her chin, deep in thought. 

“Papa Nihil, your concerns have been duly noted. But, I believe the sister's perspective holds merit. Secondo you may continue with the album as planned for now. We will meet again in one month to discuss your progress.”  

Nihil grumbled under his breath but eventually nodded in reluctant agreement. “Fine,” he said. “But he needs to prove himself. We can't afford any more fuckups. Capisci?”

“Sì,” Secondo answered, biting down on his cheek until the taste of copper filled his mouth, “Capisco, padre.” 

A week had passed since your promotion to Secondo’s assistant. 

The job wasn’t easy, but you’d learned his routines quickly enough. A cappuccino in the morning. Reading glasses cleaned and on the left side of his desk before his arrival. A fire hot and roaring before he entered and freshly-cut firewood kept stacked in the rack by the door. 

The work itself was usually the same. Every morning Secondo started with the pile of papers on his desk. Signing, editing, and transcribing. As Papa, it was his duty to understand all the traditions and rituals of the church while guiding his flock toward or against the known and unknown dogmas. 

All important clerical duties were done by lunch. In the afternoon, Secondo dedicated himself to his music. He wrote, sang, and played his guitar, a beautiful acoustic thing with a solid Sitka spruce top and touches of emerald green around its body. Most days Secondo didn’t leave his office when he worked on his album, preferring to play by the fire. But sometimes he did wander down to the music room, where the walls are padded and he could mix tracks when he felt so inclined. On those days his most trusted ghouls usually joined him. Alpha. Omega. Aero. Crust. 

The nighttime was reserved for sermons. Secondo wrote and practiced them over and over again until his message was clear and memorized completely. You never realized how much detail was packed into each line he delivered at mass until that week. Every word served a purpose, every phrase held a deeper meaning. 

Through it all you helped Secondo the best that you could. You learned that he was meticulous about his robes and paints, both of which he wore every single day, so you started keeping lint rollers in his office and a pot of his special facial paints in your pocket at all times. You learned inspiration could strike him at any moment so you also carried a little black notebook and a pen in case he ever needed to jot something down. 

Alpha was around most days and you were so thankful for that. You enjoyed your time together when he did play bodyguard, posting up inside Secondo’s office like a sentinel. He occasionally would slip you little cartoons he’d draw of you or Papa. He was a talented artist and you wondered if all ghouls were born with such creativity. You wanted to ask him but for some odd reason, Secondo kept giving him time off saying things like “go enjoy yourself” or “make sure to rest.” It was strange, seeing Secondo pretend to care about someone else. 

Most days you didn’t speak to Secondo and the two of you worked side by side in total silence. Although on more than one occasion you did catch him staring at you, you tried your best to stay out of his way and anticipate anything he needed.  

Neither of you had taken a single meal in the dining hall in the past week either. There was too much to do and too few hours in the day to do it all. It’d become clear that Secondo’s last assistant was less than organized and the backlog of work she’d inadvertently created felt neverending most days. 

Every night when you dragged yourself back to your suite you felt the same. You were tired. You were body-aching, head pounding, feet burning, doggone tired. You’d never worked so hard in your entire existence and your social life, as modest as it was before, practically vanished overnight. Your world became absolutely consumed by Secondo’s. 

It’s been a week since you’d been able to see your friends in the ghoul dens. You never made it down for Aether’s cooking or Mountain’s tea the day he had invited you. You’d apologized for missing out when you bumped into Mount days later. He’d been kind and understanding, offering you a hug that you needed more than you realized. And since then he’d taken it upon himself to leave little snacks and energy drinks in your suite every night. 

“You need the energy, little flower,” he had said when he’d delivered you the first round of goodies.

The other ghouls helped out too. Aurora and Cumulus surprised you with little pink Post-it notes on your bathroom mirror full of encouraging messages and adorable drawings. Aether also brought you your favorite wine. And Dew brought you his favorite weed. Swiss, the chaotic little sweetheart that he was, lent you two piles of his favorite records. 

“Music to put you to sleep and music to get you going in the morning,” he had said when dropping them off at your door. 

At some point, you’d eventually figure out a way to thank everyone. You just needed a minute away from Secondo before that could ever happen. But today wasn’t going to be that day. 

It was Saturday evening and while most of the Abbey was preparing for a night of sin and revelry you were with Secondo, holed up in his office and staring down a stack of receipts that needed approving. Alpha had left several hours earlier and the sun was setting outside, casting a warm orange glow through the open window behind Secondo’s desk and a cool breeze swept through the room. 

Secondo had set aside his latest sermon and was plucking away at his guitar. You stole glances at him every now and then, watching the way his ungloved slender fingers danced over the strings with effortless grace. 

The song was different from the rest he’d been working on. This one was slower. Softer. If anyone else had been playing it you might even dare say it was sweeter. 

“Ghuleh… Ghuleh…” 

Secondo sang, his voice rising over the crackling fire and gliding over you like the breeze from the open window.

“Ghuleh… Ghuleh…” 

You set your pen down and watched him. For all the vial names you wanted to spew at Secondo, you couldn’t deny him two things. The first was that the man had the voice of a fallen angel. You could easily imagine falling down again into the black void and meeting one of His princes. Maybe Belial or Beelzebub. You could imagine how they would probably sound the same if they sang. Confident, verging on arrogant but soft enough to corrupt any innocence they crossed. 

And the second thing you couldn’t deny Secondo was just how much you liked his voice. You could listen to him sign anything. The Macarena. Happy Birthday. God damn Barbie Girl. Honestly, it didn’t matter what Secondo was singing you’d listen to it all just to hear the way his voice could flit between light and delicate to those guttural deep growls that made your cheeks warm and red. 

You subtly reached up to your cheek and tried to hide the shame that they were indeed flushing red again. 

But luckily Secondo wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was elsewhere. His mismatched eyes were busy staring into the fireplace’s flames as he sang. 

“Putrefaction. A scent that cursed be. Under coat of dust. From the darkness. Rise a succubus.” 

On the last word, Secondo stopped, turned his head, and stared at you. If your cheeks had been tinged pink before they were bright red now. 

You had to say something. 

“That was beautiful.” 

Secondo’s gaze lingered on you for a heartbeat before he looked away. His fingers stilled on the guitar strings. Then Secondo did two things you never thought possible. He thanked you and he smiled. 

The deep-set corners of his eyes that were so often set in a frown shifted upwards. And his lips followed course. Moving big and wide. You were surprised at how nice it looked on him. How handsome his chiseled face was when he twisted it this way. Not that you ever thought you’d see it, but when you had imagined Secondo’s smile you’d thought it would be awkward, forced, and uncomfortable. But nothing about the way he looked at you now made you feel any of those ways. 

You don’t know why. But his thanks his smile…it felt like a truce.

Even if he didn’t know why you hated him and even if you didn’t know why he hated you something about the moment felt like a ceasefire. A break in the lingering feud between you both. You still hated him for what he’d said to you. And probably still despised you for your disobedience but right now… right now you could just co-exist. Right now that hatred didn’t feel important. Something else mattered. You weren’t sure if you could name it. But you felt it, fluttering in your chest and flickering on the tip of your tongue.  

Maybe the moment was getting to Secondo too, because he set his guitar aside and stood up, walking over to the window to watch the sun sink lower in the sky before rubbing his temples. 

You’d learned over the week that despite the front Secondo tried to put on he was indeed human. And he was a human being who suffered from pounding headaches just like you. 

“Headache, Papa?” 

“Nothing that won’t go away on its own, sorella,” he said despite mixing the white and black paint at his temples into a grey mess, as he moved his fingers in tiny circles. 

“Maybe you should take a break. Is there something you do to relax?” 

Secondo turned from the window and blinked at you. He looked surprised.

“I don’t have time for that.” 

You pushed away from your chair and reached into the pocket of your habit, pulling out a cotton handkerchief before handing it to Secondo and pointing to the grey smudges on his fingertips. 

“Well how about you take your guitar and I’ll take some of these,” you pointed back toward the stack of receipts on your desk, “and we’ll just go somewhere that’s more relaxing.” 

“Somewhere more… relaxing?” He repeated, eyeing you curiously.

“Yeah, maybe a change of scenery could help clear your mind.”

The idea seemed to intrigue Secondo. His gaze flickered between you and the window where the last rays of orange sunlight were fading fast. After a moment, he let out a sigh and nodded. 

“Lead the way, sorella.”

Secondo had lived in the Abbey his entire life and while he knew plenty of secrets about the old place he had never been here before. 

You had led Secondo through the Abbey into an abandoned classroom on the top floor of the eastern wing and climbed out its window. Then you’d scampered up onto the roof, where a black and red plaid blanket had already been waiting. A tin bucket sat next to one of the brick chimneys and Secondo peaked inside, noticing half a dozen smoked-down joints. 

You sat down on the blanket, deftly crossing your legs at your ankles, and waved at Secondo to join you. Secondo couldn’t help but think what a pair you two must make. What would people think if they saw you? A young Imperatrix, dressed in her most conservative black habit, not an inch of skin showing, and him…Papa Secondo, clad in all the finest regalia of his station donning black robes, mitre, and all. Even though the sun was almost fully set Secondo doubted that any sibling wandering the grounds below would be able to see either of you. But still, he felt subconscious about his dress. He normally didn’t mind people staring. But up here with you, he’d rather not draw stares. So he pulled off his mitre and gently set it on the roof before joining you on the blanket with his guitar. 

While the plaid blanket was decently sized, Secondo was forced to sit relatively close to you. Just a handful of inches separated the two of you. So he kept his eyes fixed on the horizon in an attempt to distract himself from the proximity and began plucking away at the strings of his guitar. Normally, keeping his hands busy was enough to distract himself. 

But tonight it wasn’t cutting it. Secondo couldn’t focus. 

Being here with you was so much different than his office or the music room. This felt too intimate. Two people, lying under the stars, with music in the air, this felt more like a date than the tail end of a long working day. And while Secondo was ready to admit that you were beautiful he wasn’t ever going to be the kind of man that took sisters like you on dates. He was missing that thing in him that sought out companionship, or the type of love that made people weak and vulnerable. Secondo was determined never to let himself be so at the mercy of another person. 

“I’ve never brought another human up here before?” Your voice cut through his idle strumming.

“Human?” 

“Yeah,” you said fidgeting with your habit. “I’ve only ever brought the ghouls up here.” 

Secondo raised an eyebrow. Most siblings were terrified of ghouls. But you were apparently comfortable enough to lay with them under the stars. Who were you? 

“The ghouls… they are your friends?” 

“They’re my only friends.” 

For two people who have spent every waking minute together over the past 7 days, Secondo realized then he knew absolutely nothing about you. He shifted on the blanket, moving his long under his thighs. Then he turned his broad shoulders in your direction so he could look at you fully. He hoped you look back at him. 

But you avoided his eye contact and stared up into the sky. 

The moonlight glistened on your face, casting shadows in the hollows of your cheeks and Secondo was struck by how ethereal you looked, like a beautiful unholy being bathed in silver light. 

“You are beautiful, sorella.” 

The words were out of Secondo’s mouth before he realized it. They’d simply escaped, like taking a breath, without any consciousness. 

But Secondo didn’t want to take them back. They were the truth and he couldn’t rewind time. All he could do was wait for you to say something… anything. The minutes stretched like hours. But you weren’t going to answer. You had frozen in place and the only thing that emerged from your lips were shaky and nervous breaths that puffed out into the cold night like little clouds. 

Then Secondo did something stupid. He spoke again. 

“You don’t like me do you?” 

This time your eyes snapped quickly to Secondo’s and nothing could have prepared him for how much angry fire was burning behind them. 

“Fuck you.” 

“W-what?”

“I said fuck you, Papa,” you spat out Secondo’s title with ugly disdain and dug a pointed finger hard into his chest. “You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met in my life. I bet you don’t even remember what you said to me do you?” 

Secondo tried to rack his brain. He tried to think of any interaction. Any possible bump in the halls, or faux pau in the dining halls. He’d only known you for a week. He’d never spoken to you before seven days ago. What the hell could he have done in that time to make you hate him so? 

As Secondo looked at you, it was obvious he didn’t remember. There was no flicker of recognition. No flashback running through his mind. 

And somehow that felt so much worse. How could he not remember when you’d never forget? 

“Sorella,” Secondo pled, “Tell me please. What did I do to you?”

Go back: (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

(Read on AO3)

[yourfuckingmomdotcom]

Yandere Butler x Autistic Reader

The autistic girlies, guys, or otherwise deserve yandere content tailored to ourselves, and I’m sick of pretending otherwise /hj.

The general idea is that this takes place in a time before an autism diagnosis even existed, like the Victorian Era, but arguably the DSM III added autism in 1980, so you could be in any of those times and still technically be timewise correct. But also you can just imagine him as a modern dude who doesn’t get what’s up.

Oh also, this is inspired a lot by @kiame-sama​ ​. Do I know what a Chrollo is? Nope. Did I love the fic she made? Fuck yea. (Accidentally tagged someone else at first, sorry you didn’t see this!) CW: Non-consentual cuddling, mild drugging, yandere, autistic reader, sensory overload mentions, general violence and murder stuff

🂡 Yandere Butler was brought on by your uncle after your parents unfortunate passing. You had been passed the helm of owning their small but thriving gunsmith operations, as well as the family house and assets. Being unwed and rather young, the butler was sent to manage the things that seriously stressed you out. He, as well as your other associates, assume you are just someone of a delicate constitution, and therefore he’s always fretting over you. Initially he didn’t get it, he did his very emotionally separated duties, but he noticed how much you struggled with specific things, and how you absolutely lit up at the things you love. He found it charming and enthralling, and he could no longer separate his duties and himself. 🂡 Yandere Butler will listen to you ramble for hours over your special interest. Now, how much he understands depends entirely on the content, but he will sit there regardless. As you excitedly go over every detail as best as you can trying to get him to understand what makes you so enthusiastic, he’ll ask leading questions and generally try and find ways to engage deeper in the things you enjoy. It’s the least he could do, since it seems to make you so happy.

🂡 Yandere Butler will overstep professional boundaries as long as you’re unaware of them. He appreciates what he sees as feign innocence and gullibleness that allows him to do things that wouldn’t be possible otherwise. With the low oversight of his position in the house, as well as the authority he holds, he uses this to sneak touches under the guise of fixing something with your garments or your posture. He’ll take what feels like decades to get you dresses in the morning as he slowly glides stockings or woolen socks over your legs, placing the garter so gently atop your thigh. The small ways you allow him to touch you are to him the highlight of his day, especially if you’re really touch adverse.

🂡 Though, Yandere Butler, does understand that your comfort comes first. He finds it somewhat enjoyable to find a middle ground between sensory-safe clothing, as well as clothes deemed acceptable by wider society. He makes sure that your tailor uses the specific fiber and weave to make sure you have an exceptionally predictable texture to fall back on with any garment. He also will find ways to get you the right silhouette while avoiding a lot of structure if that bothers you. If all else fails, he might resort to more homey garments.

🂡 Yandere Butler pays close attention to your nutrition as well, always making sure to get sensory safe foods as well as some you’ve never tried before to widen your horizons just a bit. If the maids and chefs cook something wrong, or in a way you find unpalatable, there will absolutely be hell to pay. Well, moreso just a very loud scolding after you’ve retired to bed for the night, but it still hurts their feelings... He keeps his more unpleasant reprimands for when you’ve fallen asleep because he understands that you feel bad for the workers in your home when he gets like this, so he just does it out of sight. If ever invited to a required formal event, god forbid, he’ll always bring a snack and a handkerchief in case you really didn’t like what was available.

🂡 Yandere Butler also manages your medications, vitamins, and any other substances you take throughout the day. Don’t even consider doing something elicit or uncouth such as smoking or drinking more than a flute of champagne, and if you do something more elicit you’ll probably give him a heart attack. But this unadulterated access to these things lets him do things that are very ungenteel. He requires you take a sleep aid, practically knocks you out, and he takes this time to cuddle you while in your sleep. He knows you’re usually not one for unprompted blunt  affection, so he only does so when you’re sleeping. He finds your resting face adorable, and he prefers to hold you in the honeymoon hug position.

🂡 Yandere Butler, who due to your “delicate constitution” is usually helping you through sensory overloads. If you would grant him the honor, he’ll hold you tenderly in his arms as you ease back into comfort, slowly rocking both of you back and forth. Or, if you’re not ok with touching, he’ll prepare your chambers with dim lights, comforting sounds, and your bed all made and smelling of fragrances you find soothing. Despite not knowing the actual root of this behavior, he’s surprisingly accommodating and has gotten your sensory needs down to a science… which is sort of the problem.

🂡 The Yandere Butler figured out that going outside into town caused you mild to a great distress. So he made your life more simple, no more going out frivolously!... You were confused, and when you asked for more information he basically put a ban on any outside activity that wasn’t business or a disaster within the house. You got really sad about that, as you needed to go out and get things frequently for your hobbies. He ignored your short pleas to go out, initially only responding with something along the lines of, “Then go out to the gardens.”, but he knew he couldn’t keep you inside forever.

🂡 So, Yandere Butler scheduled every “unnecessary” outdoor event to be a sensory nightmare. He hates to see you so distressed, but it’s the only way you’ll learn apparently. This is only made worse by the fact he’s essentially made a sensory heaven inside of your manor, so when you go out it’s a lot worse since you’re so used to being catered to that the sensory discomfort becomes full of sensory pain. And you and him both know you can’t make a scene, lest you be ousted from high society and made a mockery of, so you’re hastily rushed back home to be coddled by him once again. It’s a very negative cycle you’ve got yourself caught up in, and it’s extremely difficult to get out of that cycle. Eventually, he hopes you’ll send a maid out to collect whatever you need instead of trying to leave him again, but until that time comes he’ll do this as much as you need until you get the memo.

🂡 Yandere Butler also manages many of your social and business connections. He’ll whisper in your ear how to deal with boring things like business decisions, stocks, and all the choices he doesn’t want you fretting about. But, he also will make sure to restrict any suitors or and non-business social events. He’ll throw out letters for frivolous parties, as he doesn’t want you tainted by others. He also will throw out suitor letters, which can make some interactions at formal business dinners a bit awkward for you when many suitors come up to you to ask about if anything got through, but the butler will whisk you away and explain that the mail must just be slow. 🂡 But one day, while a maid was cleaning the butler's room in the servants quarters, a maid finds the letters thrown out in his personal rubbish bin. She reads through them all rather confused, wondering why these wouldn’t be given directly to the master of the house. She wasn’t one to interfere with others' business, but something ticked her off. But as she’s about to walk off with an engagement letter, the butler walks in with 3 more in hand. There was a panic and a struggle from both of them, as the butler made sure she’d never be able to tell her tale.

🂡 That night, the Yandere Butler burnt the butchered maid, as well as all of the letters he’d previously thrown out to ash in the manors incinerator. He’d make sure not to make such a mistake again…

🂡 The next day, Yandere Butler makes you a special breakfast and brings it to your room. He coos, explaining that a particular maid stole from the wine cellar, and as she dropped and cracked the bottle, the red wine spilt across the floor. After that he let her go from her position, and he needed time to clean the mess himself, apologizing that your schedule was messed with and that you’re confined to the room for the day to protect your garments. Everytime you walk past the servant quarters door, you see a small red stain and remember the taste of red wine.

[sugar-plum-writer]

"It's just the beginning darling"

Paring: Sukuna the king of curses! x fem!reader; Sukuna in Yujis Body Tags: Sukuna!imagines; Sukuna!being obsessive; slight!NSFW; slight!gore; mostly it's obsession enjoy~

Sukuna is cold, ruthless, and unpredictable, everything depends on his pleasure and displeasure. For such a man to exist, it's a miracle not more people are dead. Being the King of Curses, the strongest, being above the mere humans that totter about their day.

Just a breath of his, hell just his shadow is enough to make even Satan crawl on fours back to hell with hands sweating, legs weak, fearing for his life. That is who he is one above all beings, worshipped as a god. And to think he, such a great man, would fall for a mere ordinary girl? he does not consider himself to be a man who thinks much about the love business, he thinks more about the non-love business such as who will he toy with today? whose body will cause heart-wrenching sensational screams to echo?

It was all until you entered his vision, sitting in Yuji's body as usual, annoyed, bored, and sleepy. His eyes looking at whatever was going on, that's when he met you. Your bright smile as you hurried towards Yuji, made him wonder, "Who is she?" that's when his bored eyes sharpened, alert, a predator looking at his next prey.

"Hey Yuji! Long time no see!", your voice, so bright, so sweet

"Hey Y/n, yeah, long time no see!", Yuji smiled

"Ever since you shifted schools, it has not been the same, I miss you a lot, why did you change schools?", arms crossed, eyebrows frowned, and eyes full of questions as you stared at him, he cannot escape this

Your conversation continued as Yuji made all kinds of reasons why he left, it amused Sukuna, a bit entertaining seeing the brat struggle and get cornered, hell, he thought it was good, why so? well you will be a good blackmail seeing how Yuji is close to you

The look on Yuji's face, seeing your throat strangled, body ripped to shreds, utterly destroyed ruthlessly―

"Ah, how fun"

The smirk on his face, chilling to the bone, and you were completely unaware that you had swords swaying near your neck, how would it be chopped off not even in your control. You laughed carelessly as you sipped juice, sitting all pretty, so pretty, it made him want to ruin you so much more.

The pleasure of seeing the fear, terror, horrid look in your eyes, your screams of terror, would truly satisfy him it would be better than anything.

Finally he found his next prey and the hunt begun

As time passed, the interactions between you and Yuji grew, you even met his friends, Nobara and Megumi even his teacher Gojo, the more he observed you, the more he thought you were a very vulnerable person, quite fragile, and also an idiot, you cried easily― the one time you cried when your ice-cream fell, how easily you got hurt, stumbling― hitting your foot as curses escaped from those pretty lips.

How sometimes you walked carelessly― bumping into others, the way others looked at you, sometimes, he wanted to rip them to shreds and gauge out their eyes, after all, how dare they look at you with those eyes?, such feelings? why? doesn't matter, if it annoyed him it does not deserve to exist.

"What an idiot", his lips curled up into a smile as a light chuckle escaped his lips.

Once he even took over Yuji's body when Yuji was with you, he played along, sometimes he slipped up which caused you to look at him a bit confused and concerned but it only made him want to cackle and pin you against the wall and-oh the things he'd do― may you never know.

You walked with him so carelessly, in his mind he had already killed you so many times he lost count. The way you held his hand, soft fingers intertwined with his, pulling him as you ran and laughed, addicting, it turns into an obsession. An unhealthy one, he thought more frequently about you, when you were with Yuji all his senses were on high alert, taking in each and every movement, your outfit for the day, everything.

"Without them you would look better" his eyes trailed the way your clothes wrapped around you, concealing your body, like a present waiting for him to rip open and ravish you.

You won't be able to escape once he starts, pinning you, kissing you, tasting you as his lips kiss your neck, your breasts ruthlessly squeezed, fondled with- sucked by his tongue as if there's no tomorrow―

Your pretty cunt stuffed with his dick, dripping, crying for help, looking pathetic as your body shakes. Your eyes hazy as he ruthlessly slams into you, non-stop, your cries mean nothing, begging means nothing

He will rail you brutally, so much, so much till you collapse and cannot moan anymore, pushed to your limit, no beyond it

Oh what can your sorry cunt do? Just hold on until it's over, after all it's just the beginning

With Yuji losing more control over him each passing time he takes over, how long would you be safe from his clutches, your clothes, your skin all so pristine, may god have mercy on you dear y/n

Oh I forgot―

He is the God

Worship him, pray to him, offer him what he desires

Maybe you will live, dear Y/n, after all?

Who dares to raise their eyes to look at you in his presence?

Footnote: Check out masterlist for all chapters!

[ashwhowrites]

From the prompt list for fluff can I request 21 and 22?

Did you just call me sweetheart?”

“I can keep you company till you fall asleep”

Of course! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting <3

Bedtime Angel

Eddie didn't like to admit to anyone he struggled to sleep after the events he faced in the upside down. His body was covered in scars, along with his brain. He couldn't sleep in the dark, he felt embarrassed when he bought a night light. The cashier eyed him weirdly as she scanned the small dinosaur light.

But that small light brought him so much relief. He had it right next to his bed, the bright white light lit up his room. He removed the doors in his closet, he needed to see exactly what was on the inside. He kept all corners of his room clean, he made sure nothing was able to hide in his room.

Wayne wasn't sure where his nephew disappeared too, but he understood he went through some type of trauma. Wayne supplied more night lights throughout their new trailer. He kept the bathroom light on always, he didn't care how expensive the electricity bill was. He'd do anything to make Eddie feel safe again.

After the events, Eddie found himself needing one person only. Y/N, someone he had no idea existed until the gang brought her as a backup in the upside down. She was gorgeous and fearless. She was supposed to bike with Dustin back to the trailer for safety, but once Eddie went down she froze. She screamed at Dustin to get the group while she raced back to Eddie.

Eddie was prepared to die, and he accepted that. He didn't have anything to live for. And dying a hero sounded comforting enough to let go. As he bled out, and scrunched his eyes shut he felt hands on his body. Someone cradled his head as a piece of fabric was pushed against his cuts. The bats left, it was just him and her.

"Go." He mumbled, his eyes peered up. Her worried eyes were focused on keeping him alive.

"Shh, it's okay. Dustin is getting help. I'm not leaving you. I'm Y/N." She said she wanted to get his mind off the pain, she knew introducing herself sounded dumb but she didn't want to be a stranger to him. She wasn't sure if he'd survive and she wanted him to die with a friend.

Eddie remembered her voice trialing in and out as he tried to stay awake. She talked about herself, her likes and dislikes. In a way, it was comforting for Eddie. He felt like he was meeting someone and getting to know them. He didn't feel like he was lying on the ground, seconds away from death. In a way, he felt alive.

"It was nice to meet you Y/N." He said, her smile faded as the blackness took over his vision.

~~~

Ever since then, he called her all the time. She was his angel. He truly felt like she saved him that night. Even though the events happened two months ago, she answered every time. She came over and talked to him throughout the day. They gained a friendship, and along the way, he felt a crush forming on her.

She always left at bedtime, believing all this time Eddie was getting the rest he needed. No idea he tossed and turned, his eyes afraid to close.

But too many restless nights showed. His face was pale, and his eyes were sunken in. Big purple bags underneath his red eyes.

"Eddie, have you been sleeping?" She asked, dropping her coat on the floor as she walked back over to him. She was prepared to leave, at the same time as always. But she couldn't help but feel like Eddie needed her.

"No." He said honestly, too exhausted to lie.

"Are you scared?" She asked. She wasn't teasing or mocking him. Her voice was soft and worried. She generally was asking and Eddie felt like a little kid with their mom. What a way to impress a girl he liked.

She could sense Eddie didn't want to answer. His embarrassed face and eyes faced down to his bed.

"Oh, sweetheart!" She cooed, she crawled into the bed, sitting up against his headboard. She patted her lap, and he silently followed her direction. He moved his body to rest against her, his head on her lap as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“I can keep you company till you fall asleep," she said, Eddie was too tired to answer. He allowed his body to melt into his bed. His brain shut off as her hands rubbed his head. Her nails scratched through his curls in the most calming way he'd ever felt.

"Did you just call me sweetheart?” he mumbled, a tired yawn leaving his lips.

"Yes." She said, and she had no shame about it.

His stomach fluttered and a tiny smile stretched across his lips.

For once, he wasn't afraid to go to sleep.

The bright dinosaur nightlight shined throughout his room. He was surrounded by light and his angel.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37

[pinkyqil]

Memories

Alexia putellas x Jenni hermoso x spain nt

Warning: mention of depression, death, suicide suffering in silence, angst

A/n: had this in drafts for a really long time and finally finished it all of this is pure fiction so don't take it too heart plz and if you're going through a hard time I definitely don't suggest you read this and that you're always loved by someone out there.

and as always hope you enjoyed the fic and your feedbacks are appreciated 💗

© PINKYQIL

Alexia and jenni had been on a long break taking one from each other and their relationship. they wanted to fix things as well has giving each other space so with the circumstances giving that what they did.

Not wanting to cause any unhiddien tension at camp it would be quite obvious that there was some type of heavy tension between them. but there professionalism wouldn't let that get into there work space.

A few of there closest friends had noticed the distance between them but said nothing.

Alexia on the other hand found herself struggling from every single corner. she wasn't the type to talk about her feelings so as usual she bottles it all.

in until she couldn't handle it all but today she couldn't handle the pain anymore everything was taking a toll on her. The media fans even family members everything she felt was ruining her she couldn't take it anymore she tried over an over to overcome everything alone but her mind told her otherwise so she choose to do the unthinkable.

Mapi had walked past her bestfriend noticing something usual about her but couldn't say anything as alexia already passed her. she would later realize that moment would be the last one she would ever see her bestfriend.

Irene was talking to jenni asking if things were alright between the couple being one of there closest friends and she cared for both of them like sister's.

Later that day the team had been called for one more run through before they faced Italy it was nice to have mapi pina and patri back at camp. everyone was very happy for them the hardship they've been through they come to deserve everything if not everything.

But someone was missing doing the run through it was alexia jenni was the first to notice it wasn't like her at all. Beings the firm captain she's always reminding everyone to be on time helping the younger ones out. and all it was all feeling strange to jenni she had a bad gut feeling and didn't want to believe in it so she shock off the bad feelings.

Later that same evening alexia was nowhere to be found it felt like her existence was erased to jenni from some reason. She gave the girls one last goodbye before she head to the shared penthouse her and alexia brought together thinking she might be there.

Jenni found herself going through all the room except their's for some reason as if she was afraid to discover what was behind those doors. She finally found the courage to open the door she found herself shaken and dropping to her knees.

she couldn't believe what unfolded right before her eye's wishing this was all some type of horrid nightmare but it wasn't.

There it was alexia body laying unconsciously on the ground no movement detected the sight before jenni broke her heart once again.

she knew alexia was struggling but not to this extent she wanted her to come over and at least ask for help but she should have known better it was alexia after all and now she had lost her.

She held alexia body close to her the shock still hitting her so hard. they we're supposed fix there problems together always be there for each other but since. there fight everything went downhill it was a dumb argument that went too far between the two that was supposed to be resolved but never happened.

Tears rolling down her face wishing she could take back everything said between them. She lost the one person that loved and truly cared for her lost the one person that she called hers the one to always put a smile on her face everyday.

She was la reina in the hands of her knight in shining armor who couldn't save her in time but memories of her will always be remembered

[makemeimmortalwithahug]

How Could You Think, Darling, I'd Scare So Easily?

Painland Week Day 2 - Myths/Legends

Charles/Edwin - post-canon

y'all remember how I said a few days ago that day 2 for @painlandweek was almost finished? Yeah,, when I went to bed two nights ago, this fic had 500 words. When I woke up again, I thought, hey, just write another 500 words and get back to it to flesh it out sometime later. Yeah, I finished this at 3am and it turned out to be *checks word count* almost 4000 words! Whoops?

Word count: 3726

ao3 link will be added

Title is from Hozier's "Francesca"

TW: body horror (Charles changing forms)

summary:

Hell has made them stronger together, Edwin is sure of that. It has, however, also made Charles anxious to leave Edwin alone for longer periods of time. When Charles doesn't return home for hours and neither Crystal nor Edwin know where he might be, everything leads to a familiar witch who wants to find out how strong the bond between the two ghosts really is when tested.

It had been exactly two months, three weeks and five days since they escaped Hell, found and lost enough to last another lifetime or two and realised the possibility of relative peace existed for them in the form of a trans-dimensional being who had never learnt what “tranquillity” even meant. Edwin agreed that most times, there was too much paperwork to be done to even try to achieve some peace of mind. 

For the most part, though, it was just an excuse. In reality, Edwin struggled with the idea that he could stop running now. After decades of looking over his shoulder, it took an immense amount of effort to direct his gaze at what’s in front of him.

Looking ahead now, all Edwin could see was the empty office, dust dancing over the furniture. The boxing gloves lay forgotten on a table near the entrance door and the football Charles always played with inside despite how much Edwin complained haphazardly rolled under the couch. Everything was still and that was only the beginning of the long list Edwin formulated in his mind of Things That Were Wrong.

Exhibit B: Charles was nowhere to be found. Which, while not particularly sitting right with Edwin, was not an unusual occurrence these days. Charles spent a lot of time with Crystal, helping her get used to her new flat or just keeping her company, watching movies. Crystal always made sure to extend her invitation to Edwin as well and he agreed every once in a while, sitting next to Charles on Crystal’s small but cosy couch, thighs touching. He also enjoyed his time spent with Crystal. She had grown on him and he was quite glad to call her his friend. Edwin lent her the detective novels he loved and in return he listened to what she called “podcasts” about psychology. 

But even so, he knew that the needling to “come over to hers with me, yeah, mate? The movie’s s'posed to be aces” was solely Charles’ doing because he did not like letting him out of his sight ever since Hell. This resulted in Charles excessively checking in on him via mirror every few hours, which most times was met by Edwin with a fondly annoyed eye roll. Edwin was quick to give in when confronted with Charles’ pleading eyes. It was not like he was any different in that regard. Spending time with them was no hardship whatsoever and Edwin had to admit that he found it quite sweet how Charles would look after him.

Which brought him to exhibit C: Charles had been gone for more than five hours and had not checked in on Edwin once in this time. Which had Edwin more worried than was probably warranted. Charles would be just fine, he was sure. He would just take a quick trip to Crystal’s and then he could calmly get back to his work for the Night Nurse. 

Edwin stood up and put the files under their paperweight. Mirror travel had been one of the most fascinating aspects of being a ghost. It required to be precise and focused while not putting any strain on his energy. It took just a fraction of a second until he found himself standing in the middle of Crystal’s living room.

“Holy fuck!” The resounding thump alerted Edwin to their psychic who was clutching her shoulder that she probably hit against the door frame she was currently leaning against, mouth twisted in pain and eyes wide with shock and irritation. “Edwin! How many times do we have to have this conversation until it sticks?”

“Yes, yes, no sudden mirror jumping into your room. I know.” Edwin pursed his lips, looking around. Better get to the point quickly.  “Is Charles here?”

“No, he isn’t. I don’t know where loverboy is, why?”

“He is not home either, has he said anything?”

Crystal flopped down on her couch. “Well, he said he wanted to come ‘round today to help me fix the sink but he didn’t show.” Reaching onto the coffee table for her phone, she checked the time. “Yeah, Charles said he’d be here around two.”

Edwin felt his stomach lurch in anxiety. It was half past five. A chilled silence filled the room as they looked at each other in question.

“Let me grab my jacket.”

“Doesn’t seem any different, right?” 

The agency lay completely untouched, nothing out of the ordinary. Normally, this would ease Edwin’s nerves, seeing as it was his sanctuary, his safe space along with Charles. Now, though, this also meant that there were no clues as to where Charles had gone. 

“Quite,” he agreed. Walking in circles around their desk, he eventually walked up to the window and peered outside. “Maybe there is something outside, he didn’t leave through the mirror.” 

They made their way downstairs, Crystal barely holding onto the railing to not slip on the steps in her hurry while Edwin simply opted to let himself fall through the floor to get to the entrance door as soon as possible. The night creeped in steadily, the shadows growing longer, twisting at their ankles. Their office was located a little off the beaten path, but not too far. When they first started flat-hunting, they were conscious that they had to balance on an incredibly fine line of finding a place just secluded enough to not bear the brunt of the daily London tourism but also don’t attract anyone who might be searching for lost places to scout out. 

This resulted in a beautiful view from their window but dark alleyways that led to seemingly nowhere, cobblestones streets with missing stones and cracks in them. The walls towered over them here, making it harder to distinguish the darkening sky from the roofs and edges. Their living neighbour had hung their bed sheets on the washing lines on the balcony and whenever Edwin blinked and tried to bring his eyes back into focus, they reminded him of David the Demon when they first exorcised him. 

It was dark, dirty and daunting. Nothing looked to be amiss. Except, of course, for the backpack that was sloped against the gutter. Edwin snatched it up and true enough: Charles’ bag of tricks. The straps showed various scratches and the top was stained. Decidedly not a condition Charles would leave his most prized possession in. Crystal was aware of this as well and carefully reached out to read it.

The few seconds that passed while Crystal’s eyes turned white and she stared into the distance were the most agitating of his existence.

Crystal gasped, letting the bag fall to the floor again, supporting herself on her knees. Edwin crouched next to her with his hands fluttering around her, not exactly knowing what he was supposed to do to help her. 

Resurfacing, she stood up again, shooting Edwin a small grateful smile that quickly blinked away again.

“Esther’s back,” she announced and tucked her jacket tighter around her. “She ambushed him here and took him.”

And Edwin’s world broke into pieces, shattering from the sky onto the puddle-ridden street and breaking the moonshine.

He didn’t say anything at first, every word vanished from his mind.

“I might know where they are, though. Or, I can find out.”

“How?” His voice sounded rough - harsh, but Crystal didn’t get angry. She knew that this was not borne of anger but sheer gripping despair.

“She had a business card on her and when Charles tried to defend himself, he caught a glimpse.”

This, more than anything, gave Edwin the determination needed to hoist the backpack onto his shoulder.

“Let us not waste any time, then. Do you think this internet you have might be of help?”

“For sure, Edwin,” she answered, petting his shoulder.

If Edwin hadn’t been out of his mind worrying about Charles, leaving him with sparsely any mental capacities to think about anything else, then he could have admitted that Coupeville, Washington was a tranquil but charming little town. With its little art stores and cafes, it gave a delightfully unassuming appearance.

Edwin hated every moment. For the sake of not leaving Crystal alone - he tried to silence the voice in his head that whispered you couldn’t take care of Charles either -, he had suffered through another flight, a ferry and multiple train rides. 

Crystal huffed as she dragged her suitcase up the stairs.

“She couldn’t have been less creative, huh? Relocating one ferry-ride away.” Which was true. Port Townsend could be reached in less than an hour. 

Personally, he could not care less whether she called this town or the bloody Empire State Building her home. All he cared about was getting Charles back as soon as possible.

They quickly checked into a hotel to get rid of the suitcase. Insisting that she had slept enough while travelling, they immediately headed to the address that Crystal had found out using the business card - a brewery. 

It must have been well visited only a few weeks ago, the dust had not properly set yet. But the lights were out and the doors were barricaded. Quickly nodding at Edwin, Crystal got on the way to find a window she could climb through while Edwin seized the opportunity to phase through the doors. Darkness enveloped him and he could not hear a single sound. 

He slowly made his way across the reception area, trying to get a feeling for how big the building really was and where Esther might have been hiding in here. If there was actually any connection to Charles’ disappearance and this place, anyway. But Edwin couldn’t stop and think about this very real possibility. 

Focusing on his surroundings, he noticed suspicious lines behind a grandfather clock on his left. And sure enough, upon examining them up close, there was a small door hidden behind it. Anxious excitement coursed through his body and he waited impatiently for Crystal’s arrival. 

“Searched for the entrance for celebrities, did you?”

“Shut it. Let’s move this clock.”

Despite taking a few tries, at last they found themselves faced with the entirety of the door. The handle was made out of iron, but Edwin didn’t hesitate to grab it despite the pain and the indignant screech Crystal let sound. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind? You might still need that hand.”

“Irrelevant and inaccurate, I won’t lose it by touching iron for a few seconds, do not be silly. And regardless, Charles does matter more right now.” He tried to hide the red swelling on his palm but he was not ignorant enough to think that Crystal actually hadn’t noticed.

“A plan is needed. I would suggest you wait here, in case Esther is not here and tries to surprise us.” 

“Alright.” Crystal nodded. “Don’t do anything stupid, yeah? Charles wouldn’t forgive anyone if you got hurt.”

Least of all himself went unsaid but they both heard it all the same. 

Edwin inclined his head, opened the door and went inside.

The room unfolding in front of him was surprisingly spacious but shockingly empty except for the enormous carpet. Sliding onto his knees, he felt the cloth and without a doubt: laced with magic. It was easy enough to counter the spell that acted as both a means to soundproof and seal without a lock whatever lay underneath it. 

Moving it aside, he was faced with a basement and without a second thought, jumped down.

Like a moth to a flame, Edwin’s eyes immediately found Charles in the completely dark room. 

“Charles,” he breathed, the name echoing off the walls like a prayer. 

Charles was slumped against the far wall, hands in cuffs mounted next to head which was lolling unoriented. When he finally looked up, Edwin was met with a disbelieving smile. But before Edwin could reciprocate, a look of blinding terror coloured Charles’ face pale.

“Edwin!” he hissed, pulling at his cuffs which brought tears to his eyes in pain. “Please, please leave, Edwin, she’s after you.” 

Edwin didn’t even think about leaving without Charles. All it took was the span of a blink and Edwin fell to his knees beside him, trying to find magical leeway for him to put the cuffs out of action, but to his dismay he realised that Esther had reinforced her strategy, not just opting for simple iron but also a curse. 

“What? What do you mean by that?” he asked, only half listening as he mentally flipped through all the knowledge he had on this kind of magic.

“She,” Charles began, coughing, “She said she was impressed that we escaped last time. She wants to get rid of me first and see how much it’d raise your pain level to drain you again. Put a curse on me too, in case you showed up.”

That got Edwin’s attention. “What?! Do you feel alright? What kind of curse?” 

“Eh.” Charles’ head lolled to the side again, as if he was losing consciousness. “She wants to try sacrificing me and if you tried to rescue me, I’d turn in all kinds of horrible beasts. Wouldn’t want to hold onto me then, she said. Wants to see how far you’d go.” 

“Charles, Charles!” Edwin held him by the shoulders, careful not to jostle him. “I’d go anywhere for you, do you understand? A curse is not going to stop me.”

But Charles was barely there anymore, teetering on the edge of oblivion. “S’ planned for t’morrow. I won’t blame you for letting go, mate, you were scared for so long, don’t need any more of that, yeah?” And then he fell into something close to sleep but what most likely resembled unquiet rest.

There was nothing he could do against the cuffs, not with no grasp on what exact kind of magic he was dealing with and no idea how much time he had left until Esther would show up.

Edwin put a hand to Charles’ cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll hold onto you, Charles, stay strong.”

With one last glance to his love, he began climbing back out of the basement.

Upon reading up on locations with magical and sacrificial history in Washington, Edwin concluded that their best chance was a secluded part of coastline, the stony beach along with the clear view of the sky providing the perfect atmosphere. 

Edwin and Crystal were hiding in the underwood, watching Esther where she was standing near the shore, when suddenly, something moved right in front of them. 

Crystal gasped. “Did- did the path just move?”

Quickly, he shushed her. “No, there is no path,” he whispered, “there is only the beach. That is a snake.”

True enough: a black snake slithered up to the ritual circle Esther had set up. This snake was even bigger than the one in Esther’s house in Port Townsend and tied to its back, there was Charles.

“Okay,” he said softly, “wish me luck.”

Consolingly, Crystal put her hand on his shoulder. “You don’t need luck. Go get him. I’ll deal with Esther.”

They stood up and sneaked closer. From a safe distance, Crystal started tapping into her powers. Edwin trusted her, therefore he turned to Charles straight away. 

Edwin had also found a remedy for the cuffs’ curse, which made it easy to pull him off, hugging him close and making it just far enough away to give Crystal the opportunity to handle the snake.

Tightening his arms around Charles, who was panting against his neck, it didn’t take long until he could feel Charles’ body morph. 

When Charles told him that he’d turn into various beasts, Edwin had thought about what he had been afraid of when he was still alive. After seventy years in Hell, any scary children’s story he had heard lost its appeal. When he was ten, his neighbour’s children had told him a story about Spring-heeled Jack who’d haunt the streets of London but also other areas of Britain. They told him about his terrifying looks with his claws, jumping at passersby to scratch them and then back into the night. 

Thinking back now, though, Edwin would gladly face a hundred variations of Spring-heeled Jack all alone if it meant that Charles would be safe and sound in their office come next morning.

“I’ve got you, Charles,” he mumbled. He didn’t respond and as Edwin looked up at him, he came face-to-face with a doll version of Charles, his eyes unseeing and mouth twisted in a numb smile, a hollow feeling to his body. Edwin could see his own face reflected in Charles’ eyes, unease boiling slowly under his skin. Where Charles’ hold on him had been strong and desperate only moments ago, now it was stiff and felt like porcelain. Edwin’s fear of dolls was real and tangible but he was far more scared of letting Charles go and shattering him on the stones.

He pressed Charles closer to him.

He stayed in this form for a while until Edwin felt a shift again. This time, Charles resembled the demon that had dragged Edwin to Hell. He was a familiar sight albeit an unpleasant one, so Edwin just put his forehead to Charles’ shoulder and waited it out, the haze around them slowly dissipating.

Next was the thing one of his demons had traded him to. He maintained that it was worse than a demon, for the simple reason that there were characteristics one could apply to a demon, it was possible to create a definition and know what to expect when one encountered a demon. This thing, however, was less a physical form and more a foreboding. The feeling deep in the bones that something horrible was imminent and no matter how hard one would try to work against it, failure was predestined. A looming presence - a threat. There was a voice in the back of the mind, whispering knowingly about every mistake he ever made and it was all your fault, right? Niko dying, Charles getting hurt, Crystal being dragged along to all of this, having been in Hell? But you don’t need me to tell you that, you already think so.

It was a sick trick and his only enemy in this was his own mind. But Edwin had grown, he had realised that thinking something didn’t have to reflect reality. And while he did blame himself for all these things from time to time, it was a passing sorrow. None of the people involved in these thoughts would want him to condemn himself and after his second time in Hell, Edwin had understood that he needed to show himself self-respect as well. Hell was an error Edwin had had no control over.

He did, however, have control over not letting Charles fear that he would be afraid enough to leave him. Because he was quite sure that underneath these appearances, Charles was conscious of what was happening and scared out of his mind.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “It’s alright.”

The fourth form was the spider-doll-demon. Its many arms were gripping Edwin’s back, the dolls’ heads pressing into his chest and neck. Edwin tried to slow his breathing. He spent more than seventy years running away from this demon and being so close to it was associated with blinding pain, being torn apart over and over again. 

Maybe now was the time to finally stop running and face his fear head-on. And so he looked straight at it, staring lovingly beneath its surface where he knew Charles was.

One second to the other, the demon was gone. There was no other figure, but Edwin still felt Charles’ presence and he tensed up at once, realising what this particular fear resembled: Charles was invisible, gone from his sight. No means for him to see him again, the only thing left for him to do was anxiously grip where Charles’ shoulders were supposed to be and not let Charles jerk away if he saw the horror on Edwin’s face. This was the only shape that compelled Edwin to screw his eyes shut. 

Time passed until he felt Charles change one more time. This was the only one not tailored specifically to one of Edwin’s fears and it showed him that he had been right in assuming where Esther had drawn her inspiration for this act from.

Charles resembled a burning coal, the heat licking at Edwin’s skin. He embraced him tightly, stood up with him and dragged him into the water. Below the surface, he could see Charles turning back into himself, his bright eyes the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Nothing had ever felt as right as holding Charles in his arms.

Bubbles appeared in front of Charles’ mouth even though he didn't need to breathe and Edwin erupted spontaneously into laughter at the ridiculous sight of Charles trying to speak underwater. Despite being in the water, he felt himself get teary-eyed. He didn’t even try to fool himself into thinking that they would not both be sobbing messes as soon as they resurfaced. But for now all he needed to do was drink in Charles’ smile.

Back on the shore, Crystal was busy brushing off her jeans.

“Boys!” she yelled as soon as she saw them, running towards them and pulling them both into a hug at the same time. “Esther’s gone, let’s hope for good.”

“Yeah,” Charles whispered, putting one arm around Edwin’s hips. 

Crystal pulled back, smiling knowingly but in a comforting way. “So glad you’re both alright. I’ll go check to make sure no one here accidently saw me fighting a huge snake and a witch. Meet me at the hotel, yeah?” With that, she walked back in the direction of the trees. 

Charles turned to Edwin, smiling shyly. “So, you kept holding me,” he stated.

“Nothing has ever been easier, Charles.” He put his hands on Charles’ shoulders again. They fit so well there.

They hugged once more.

“You know,” Edwin mused, playing with Charles’ hair, “it was like Tam Lin.”

“Mhh?” Charles mumbled, he sounded tired. “What’s that?”

“A legendary Scottish ballad. Not letting your love go, no matter what.”

“Oh.” Charles’ eyes were wide. “Does that one end in tragedy too?”

Edwin smiled. “No, it ends precisely like this.” And Charles’ smile was brilliant as he leaned in and kissed Edwin.

[verstarppen]

A THANK YOU LETTER

an apology and update! for all you beautiful people - 2 for the price of 1

hello! over the months i've written and deleted this letter because i was too much of a coward to show my face after i left. i contemplated if it would be adequate enough, if it even matters. At the end, i owe this fandom too much, so here it is:

THE APOLOGY

i am truly sorry. there's no better way of putting it.

the more i create the more i realise how this fandom held my hand and i simply wouldn't be the person i am now if this blog never existed. i've always struggled with sharing art and writing online, as i thought it was too lame and took the coward route of keeping it to myself and my closest friends.

ever since this blog, i've found that less of an issue. the more i think about how much i let you and myself down by disappearing the more i feel the shame weigh me down. i never wanted to leave, but life has this funny way of forcing your hand when you least expect it.

without getting too personal, this year hasn't been great for me or anyone close to me - friendships died, family members were hospitalised, university crushed me, expectations from everyone around me made me question if i'm failing in every aspect of my life, i lost passions like art - something i've always thought of as my dream career, and i fear the stress will only grow rather than die down.

in some of those harder moments i would always turn to a distraction, create something for a fandom i enjoy to get my mind off things. to see your comments and your messages always kept me going even when i physically couldn't take the stress of everything around me anymore. being busy made my flame for F1 dwindle, too. it's one of the main reasons i didn't return earlier. I've missed half the races this year, yes that includes both lando and oscar's wins, and although im looking forward to the summer break ending and the racecs coming back, i don't think the enthusiasm will ever return to the way it was when this blog was at its peak.

i feel like a coward for disappearing and it's a big regret of mine this year. i can't promise to write for F1 again, but what i've made will always be archieved here :)

THE UPDATE

not great. i can't even lie i'm not doing too hot right now. i promised i would return to writing when things finally calmed down and yet the more stress there was the more one off projects i made to combat it. throughout the months i've accumulated a lot of side projects for different fandoms like star wars, star trek, dc, merlin and lesser known fandoms such as heavy rain, mortal kombat, the sims (no seriously have you seen the lore) etc. that i have nowhere to post. in april i decided i can't afford (literally) to distract myself with any hobby projects for the sake of my situation and thus... i was an idiot and i deleted my ao3 account. there weren't that many stories on there anyway, but i regret it even if it was the right decision.

i owe @wtfisakilometer2 so much for telling me that the people who love the blog wouldn't mind what fandom it is as long as it's by me, even if i don't fully believe it. it did open my eyes to finally write this, though, so direct all your love to her.

so that leaves me here, sort of homeless on my own blog and with very conflicting feelings about it's direction. i intend to preserve it as an archive of my F1 writing without messing with it, but still let you know about my new ao3 and everything on it so i can keep both our interests in mind.

thank you for reading if you made it this far, i hope you have an awesome day and a lot of cat memes in your pinterest. thank you for all the lovely messages (i read everything) and thank you for everything this fandom has offered me. i will truly never get over you guys.

- star :)

[crazylittlejester]

what are some of your headcannons about legend? (Love your work by the way it’s so good every time I read it 💙)

- Not at all rude or mean person, he just SERIOUSLY struggles to control his tone and his facial expressions and can come off as super moody or standoffish but really he’s just chillin’

- Genuinely has the STUPIDEST sense of humor, like the kind that makes you laugh anyway even though the joke isn’t funny AT ALL

- He and Wars will find a way to compete over anything and everything. Who drank the most water that day. Who got the most monsters. Who knows the most languages (Legend is furious Wars knows just One more than he does, and it’s even worse because it’s Warriors’s native language and Legend could literally only learn it from him but if Wars wants to keep the achievement of knowing the most languages he’ll never teach him)

- On top of hoarding trinkets, he likes to make his own! He makes a LOT of jewelry, for himself and for others

- Really really almost comically bad at verbally comforting others or having deep conversations, he just has absolutely no idea what to say, so he shows his love and support through small actions or little gifts

- Chronic pain issues that have an effect on his ability to walk. Some days it’s really bad and he doesn’t want to move at all

- Very close with Hyrule, but he’s closest to Sky. Since Hyrule comes AFTER him he almost feels like he has to make sure he lives up to whatever legends Hyrule’s heard about him. Sky hasn’t heard SHIT about him before all this and therefore knows nothing so it’s easier to just exist, plus they bond over their love for the Master Sword

- His speaking voice sounds really raspy, like he’s constantly in that state of having lost his voice after screaming at a concert for like four hours. But despite that, he’s a very good singer. The raspy quality of his voice oddly works with the soft and gentle songs he learned along his adventures, but he’s super insecure about it and will not be caught dead singing

- Has definitely pushed Warriors on a flight of stairs at least twice and got away with it because Sky loves him and all he has to do is go to Sky for support and he can get away with murder

- I headcanon he IS part of the royal bloodline and Fable’s younger (twin) brother, because I like the angsty ass idea that Legend is super close to Sky but is a bit afraid if Sky ever found out he was his descendant he’d be disappointed 🧍‍♂️

- I also headcanon he’s just a little bit younger than Hyrule, with him being ALMOST 18, and Hyrule being a month or two past 18. No one will ever learn about this though, Legend has them all convinced he’s 19-20 and he intends to keep it that way

(ALSO AAAH THANK YOU SO MUCH IM GLAD YOU LIKE MY SILLY STUFF)