taxigeschichten

[alchemistc]

"I am not packing your kitchen, Buck," Maddie says with a hard set to her jaw and a hand planted on her hip, and Evan sends her a warning look over his shoulder, elbow deep in packing tape and half-folded boxes. Tommy is clearly missing something.

"You found the ring cutter in there with the ladles too, huh?" Snipes Eddie from somewhere in the vicinity of the bathroom, and before Tommy can get a firm grasp on that Eddie's tipping his head back through the open doorway. "C'mon guys, seriously, you didn't pack this shit up before you forced us all to help you pack?" There's an unopened tube of lube in his hand.

"I'm getting things off of walls and that is all, Evan Buckley," comes Maddie's quick rejoinder, and Buck levels them both with a look.

"That could be for normal stuff! Sometimes rings need cutting! Sometimes you need to - lubricate other things!"

It is, of course, the moment Bobby wanders through the unlocked door.

Tommy's still familiar with the cadence of Hen and Howie, ribbing and mocking a form of endearment for them both, so he's not exactly shocked when Bobby just rolls with it and starts listing off the last fifteen calls they've needed it for. None of those things particularly improve the red rising up Evan's cheekbones, but Tommy catches the grin Bobby's hiding while he sets boxes of pizza up at the kitchen table, cleared of the latest seasonal decor Evan had dragged him through three different department stores to find, not that he could be bothered to care when the very existence of them was all it took to shift Maddie's opinion of him from tolerantly friendly to encouragingly approving.

("This loft was a minimalists wet dream before you were in the picture," she'd told him one evening, after she'd manipulated him into admitting he was terrified this didn't mean the same thing to Evan as it did to him. "He started nesting a month after my wedding, Tommy.")

And now they're here. Watching Evan pretend to be miffed by the teasing while he fights a roll of packing tape.

He's going to miss the upstairs shower, wide enough for two grown men to fit more than comfortably; and the balcony on cooler nights when he could tempt Evan out for a slow dance set to the late-evening traffic; the kitchen island at the perfect height to lift Evan onto and tilt his head up for an angled kiss.

He won't miss the open plan that makes it impossible to do much of anything with a snoring Eddie right below them, the tuba player two doors down who only seems to practice the moment Tommy's head meets the pillow at the end of any random days-long shift, the way the elevator always smells like tuna on Thursday afternoons.

There are things he won't have to miss, of course. Evan, on nights when they just can't make their schedules align well enough to justify the drive time. The extra fluffy towel set Evan had refused to reveal the origin of ("You'll buy your own and leave me, I know you're only with me for my towels."). The pictures plastered to the fridge that Tommy's spent the last few weeks plotting out space for on his own before deciding he'd need a new fridge just to fit them all. The plant he'd bought Evan to appease the grump, the first time he'd dragged him to the farmers market at the ass crack of dawn, lovingly named Herbert. The fancy adjustable bedside lamps Evan had bought the last time he'd caught Tommy squinting down his reading glasses at the book in his hands. Evan.

Christ, he wouldn't have to miss Evan anymore. They'd synched up their schedules more or less as well as they could, but Tommy's spent months now trying to ignore how quickly a sleepless night could turn restful with Evan in his bed - how fitful a night without him there had a habit of being.

Most of the loft is already packed. Evan's wardrobe has been dwindling for weeks now, a box at a time carted from the back of the Jeep up Tommy's drive, through the mud room, down the hall and straight to the closet that had never seen such a shock of color or variety of fabric. They'd sprung for a bigger mattress, once they'd gotten over the sticker shock and remembered how much they'd be saving by paying half a mortgage each with no rent to speak of, and other than the kitchen table most of Evan's other furniture was being donated.

All that really remained were the kitchen supplies Evan hadn't been willing to move until he handed over his keys, a few toiletries, a single drawer of clothes just in case he needed them. Pictures on the walls and stacks of books on the bookshelves - half a decade of life lived in this apartment and most of it was already half unboxed and slowly integrating into the fifteen years Tommy had put into his own solitary life.

Evan finishes taping boxes and makes a beeline for his itemized list, and Tommy has to pretend it's giving him as much grief as Evan's sister and best friend to see the clipboard in action. He's not entirely sure how well he sells it, when even Bobby's shooting him aggrieved looks only to grimace at whatever he finds in Tommy's expression.

And just like that, an hour passes and the pizza disappears; the boxes are loaded into the back of his truck; the kitchen table in Eddie's; and Maddie tugs her brother in for a hug, drags Tommy in for good measure too, kisses them both on the cheek as she leaves; Bobby tucks a wooden box filled with handwritten recipes on note cards into Evan's hand and Tommy pretends not to notice either of their teary eyes; Eddie hefts a six pack out of the otherwise empty fridge and promises to meet them at the house in forty-five.

There's still one picture stuck to the fridge - a candid from the first barbeque Athena and Bobby had hosted after their move, Tommy and Evan backlit by a setting sun, tucked up against each other leaned against a porch railing, and Tommy knuckles at it while Evan does a slow introspective spin to take in the wide expanse of windows and brick. He's still staring when Evan finishes and drifts towards him, hands tucking in at Tommy's waist, chin hooking over his shoulder.

"Is this one staying?"

Evan shakes his head, nose digging into the side of Tommy's neck. "Just wanted to keep it out so it could be the first one we put up."

He remembers the night. Karen had gotten him drunk and added him to the wives group chat. May Grant had stolen half his slice of cake right off his plate and dared him to protest. Jee had spent the entire night calling him Uncle Tommy and thrown a massive fit when she realized he wasn't going home with her to read a bedtime story. Christopher and Denny had spent half an hour trying to teach him how to play Fortnite and then been mystified when he trounced them in Mario Kart. He knows exactly why it's significant to him. "Why this one?" he asks, curving into the cradle of Evan's arms.

Evan's so much better with words than Tommy is, and Tommy's just grateful Evan takes his actions for the things he means with them. "That's the night I knew what our something was gonna be," Evan murmurs, and Tommy tips his chin back and angles his head to catch Evan's lips against his own.

[backinmyphase]

Not your wife

Synopsis: The walls of the Gojo estate were big as always. The atmosphere cold like before, more than ever since the sudden end of Gojo Satoru's and your honeymoon. And the meeting with the higher-ups was coming near...

Or: Satoru Gojo doesn't even know how attached he will grow to his wife yet.

Pairing: Gojo x reader, 6200 words Masterlist

Contains: arranged marriage, generational trauma, jujutsu clans and higher ups, much Angst (I'm saying, MUCH angst!) Angst to comfort at the end, after this part will come more, but this will be the end of their introduction to each other

A/n: Alright it took awhile, but I still hope you will like it and it will be worth the wait for you! Like always I'm happy about any comments, they make seriously my day <3

Gojo Satoru was always the strongest and most powerful man in jujutsu society, you knew that.

You heard stories when you were a kid. Your father remembering the meetings with the Gojo Clan more than your birthday. And he was always fascinated by this boy with these absurdly godlike talent.

And then there was his daughter. You didn't have any talent. No, you didn't have the power to make any adult cower before you.

And you were a girl.

It was only natural your father forgot you or at least tried to. Then how could he look at his child and see that he was not the one his Clan prioritized, because he didn't have a worthy heir.

You were an only child, much to your parents dismay. Your father was… Well he couldn't have more kids. You could still see the doctors, and the screams of your father. The crying of your mother. You were six, when you realized you were doomed.

Doomed as the girl who ruined her father's life and name.

It could have been worse. Your parents didn't treat you too bad. They mostly left you in the hands of the maids and Servants. You ate alone since your eighth birthday. Your father couldn't stand eating and looking at you and your mother didn't want to be alone with you.

But it wasn't the worst. They didn't hit you or anything like that. They were frustrated, of course and they still are, but they knew you could still be useful to the Clan. And you knew that one day you would have to marry some man, hopefully a clan leader, to make up for the fact you weren't a boy.

Your mother did teach you personally. And even if she just did so you could get a husband, it still showed she cared.

You didn't live like the golden boy Gojo Satoru.

No, you knew he was special since your father told your mother and you that 'this one boy could be the rising of the jujutsu society to a new level!'.

Your Status was so different from his, you could laugh.

There was one time you saw him, before you two married. And of course that wasn't in the arrangement time, he didn't show up to meet you personally, but it was at a Clan meeting a couple of years ago.

How old were you? Fourteen? Maybe even fifteen. And your parents were arguing about if you should even come with. Your father was livid. 'How could I show myself, when she is there to remind everyone?' he yelled.

But your mother insisted that you should show yourself to start leaving an impression. 'She has to find a husband.' your mother was ice cold. 'And she has to start young. Don't you want a connection to the Gojo Clan?'

'As if Gojo.' He looked at you and that was the first time you had heard him laugh. 'As if she and Gojo…'

The difference between you and Gojo was always clear to you. And you knew that everyone else knew too. But your mother pushed through and took you with her. The ride was silent and you could stil see the empty eyes of your father.

His ego was so easily bruised.

As you made your way into the big estate of the Clan, you could feel the stares of the maides and the servants. Even they knew what you were. Who you were. And why your parents scowled as they came with you.

'So lovely to meet you.' Mrs. Gojo had that same smile you would see on her years later. And when you thought about it, she and your mother had tension between them even back then.

'And who is that beautiful lady?' she smiled at you, her hair was perfect, her dress made perfectly for her. She was a lady in power. But everything was only held together by the pretty golden ring on her ringfinger. Pretty but heavy, you knew that even back then.

'Our oldest daughter.' you father held up this nothing saying face but you could see his frustration.

'And your only one.' Mr. Gojo spoke up behind his wife and had the same but more smugly smile as he looked at your father. And you didn't miss the clenching of your father's teeth.

'Where is the young Gojo boy?' of course even back then your mother searched the control in the situation. And she always did a good job in directing the tension into a different direction.

'Oh, he is out playing.' Mrs. Gojo waved her hand. 'Some of his friends came by.'

He was out playing. His friends visited.

That was the moment you first really realized just how much different you lived. You had to beg to go outside, to attend meetings. He could just leave when his friends asked for him. Hell, he was allowed to play with friends! It was almost surreal how such an important figure had such a normal relaxing life.

'You can join them of course?' Mrs. Gojo smiled at you. Not much later you were send outside into the little yard of the estate.

Gojo laughed with some kids. They were running around, made dumb jokes you didn't understand and furthermore didn't talk to you. You were the weird stuck up girl to these boys and boys shouldn't talk to girls. That was stuck in their dumb teenage brains.

But in Gojo's eyes was something that ticked you off. This look of knowing. Maybe it was your paranoia but even back then you were sure of it, that he understood your different status and what it meant.

So you couldn't say you were that surprised.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"How was your Honeymoon, my Lady?"

You tried to smile as you looked at Hina. She was smiling softly and only now you realized just how much you missed her. The cold walls of the big house were not missed.

"Lovely." you held your things close to yourself, most of your baggage already brought into your room. The uber behind you drove away, now that you were back home. If you could really call it that.

"You look exhausted?" she didn't miss the eye bags under your eyes. But they weren't hard to miss, after all every night was a fight.

"Just missed my own bed." you moved, Hina taking some things from you. Your steps steady, determined.

"Is that why you came back so abruptly?"

You couldn't help but stop in your tracks. And you wished that was the reason. But it wasn't. It was also not the reason your husband wasn't in the uber with you. It wasn't the reason why you longed for your own room.

"Yeah. Just was a bit exhausted." you smiled at the lovely girl in front of you. "Will you excuse me?"

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"My lady?" Hina's voice was soft, like it was scared to speak to loudly. "Dinner is ready and Mr. Gojo is waiting for you."

Your room was dark, the curtains closed and your back to the door. Since hours you were laying in your bed trying to sleep, to relax like those nights when you slept well. But it didn't work, nothing worked.

"I will be there in a minute."

You heard her steps distancing from your room. And with a heavy feeling you stood up. Your gaze dropping to your night table. The hairpin of your mother laying there, neatly. So put together.

Next to it the letter of the higher-ups. It reminded you of the following Friday. The meeting that was waiting for you.

And the husband that was waiting for your presence.

It wasn't easy to get up, to take all these steps towards the room with the person you really didn't want to see. In fact you didn't want to see anyone.

The table was big as always, filled with food you knew wouldn't all be eaten. Your seat open and waiting for you. And across from it, he sat. Satoru.

His head was down, cutting his meat as he chewed. He didn't look up as you sat down, no he gripped his fork harder as he ate. The nerve of him.

"Did you get home safely?"

"Yeah, I did." you took a bit of the food around you, even though you were nowhere hungry. "I wouldn't be here if not, would I?"

He stopped chewing for a second, his eyes almost going up. But he didn't and swallowed. "I guess."

The silence that flooded the room was filled with tension you felt familiar with. It was like when you were eight again, the dinners after it was revealed you would be the only child of your parents.

He was mad.

He cut his food like he hated it. And his blue eyes were like storms, fighting and brewing. In the end you still didn't know this man.

"Will you go to meet them?"

He had no right to look at you like that. No right, to make you feel guilty, to make you feel like the villain here.

"Will you disappear for a mission again?"

He was silent. And he should be. It was humiliating, how he left you to ride alone home again. Just mumbling of having to work instead of talking to you.

The sound of chewing and eating was the only thing that filled the room and it wasn't too long until you were finished. He stared at you, watching your doing. Now you couldn't bear yourself to look at him.

"You could have come to me. You could just tal-"

"I want to eat alone from now on again." you cut him off. You didn't want to hear his oh so great ideas, as if he knew your position.

He was quiet again. You took that as a sign to continue. "And I want to promote Hina, if that's okay. I still need a personal maid, to help me prepare for our later Clan events."

You stood up, the conversation was finished for you. You couldn't bear to hear his accusations, feel his piercing eyes on you and endure this tension in the room.

You hurried to take the steps to your room, Gojo not speaking up again.

Maybe you were overreacting. But if you felt the way you felt, why try to act not like it? He said he wanted to see your real emotions, he could feel it.

After yesterday you wouldn't need to be told twice to give him the cold shoulder.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺ Yesterday

"What is this?" he held the cursed piece of paper up, the one you didn't know about. The one he just stole from you.

"A letter for me."

You looked into his eyes, your face was scowling now. He didn't have the right to just take your things, sneak around in your business and then act like you did something wrong.

"From the higher-ups." he let out a low joyless laugh. "You talk to them regular?"

He was intimidating. His body seemed so much bigger suddenly, his eyes like blades and he towered above you.

"Talk about me with them?"

"Stop." you narrowed your eyes as he let out another of these scary chuckles.

"Do you tell them all the things I do?" he shook his head and a scary smile mirrored his laugh. "Tell them everything about our marriage?"

"I said, Stop." you snatched the letter from him, finally having it secured.

"Is it true you meet up with them regular?" he didn't smile anymore. Didn't laugh. There was only this vulnerability and you did feel bad. But in this moment all of it clashed down on you, your exhaustion and everything on top made you overwhelmed like no time before.

"Why do you care?" you turned around trying to hide the tears that were clouding your eyes. Suppressing the heavy breathing and the hiccups. The shaking. Everything was becoming so loud, so alive.

"I care!" he became louder. "If my wife is talking to old hags more than to me! I care when she meets up with the people who controlled my whole life, and discusses me with them!"

Now it was your turn to laugh. "You want to talk about control?" you shook your head. "Gojo, you had freedom! My whole life was built up to marry you, that is my whole purpose. You had control, you had the freedom to have a childhood! It is my duty to meet up with them, I have no other choice!"

Now you could feel his infinity. It felt unstable, uncomfortable, just awful in your back. "But you do." his voice was eerily calm. "You could have talked to me. You could have come to me, instead of working with them!"

"Oh please, do you hear yourself? Working with them, what do you think they talk with me about?" you turned around to look at him and the sight shocked you. He looked like a whole different person. What a smile does to a lerson right? And how the disappearance of one changes one.

"Well it's worse enough that you feel the need to keep it from me."

"What do you expect from me?!" you screamed now, the exhaustion now making your head dizzy. Or was it really just the exhaustion?

"Do you expect me to tell you everything? To immediately trust you? I don't know you, Gojo!"

He flinched at that, the anger in him was rising. "At least I try to get to know you! You just run away from me and don't even consider us working together! How should I know you, if you don't open up?!"

"How do you expect me to just open up?" you hiccuped, the tears now falling, the paper in your hands getting wet. "Since the beginning of the discussion of this marriage you rejected my existence. You made me deal with our Clan relationships alone since our wedding day, how do you expect me to just share all of it now with you?"

Your breathing was uneven, the tears blocking your lungs, making it oh so hard to breathe.

"But I am trying right now-"

"I know, okay?" your voice began to fall apart, becoming more hoarse. "I know you try, but a couple of conversations don't fix everything! I don't expect you to fix everything right now, but you have to forgive me if I can't switch up after a couple of days. This isn't your issue, it's mine."

His body was shaking a bit. He was still so tall, you couldn't look at his face, it seemed impossible. "I think our marriage shouldn't be discussed with these old hags. That isn't just your issue, it's mine too."

"It's not about how our marriage is going." speaking was hurting a bit, and the words were heavy on your lips. It felt so unfair. "It's about what… I should do. How my Clan relies on me in this. How I have to steady their relationship with the Gojo Clan." Through a heir.

"And how can I trust you on that?" his eyes seemed so coldly empty, it was almost scary. A person can be so different. His words stung and at the same time almost made you laugh.

"You talk a lot about me needing to open up and trust you, but at the same time you sneak into my letters and my business." You stood up.

"I think that says more about you than me."

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

After that evening Gojo said he had to go on a 'mission' and that the Honeymoon would be fine to be cut short. He left the same morning. There was already an uber for you ready, the little hotelroom for yourself and his things long gone.

You really shouldn't surprised and you hated yourself for crying that morning after he left. But it still hurt. How he could always just leave. You felt so alone.

And now you were 'home'.

You couldn't stand looking at him for too long that was clear from the dinner yesterday. You couldn't stand his anger.

You just wanted to curl yourself in a ball and sleep forever. But even the sleep was a chore, the nightmares still not leaving. The only good time was with the young Hina, who made you go outside and for the first time you explored the big mansion you were living in.

And even though it was tiring, you were happy she made you go through the big halls. It gave you a task, a new adventure, something else than the next meeting with them to focus on.

The garden was beautiful. All the flowers, some you have never seen or heard from before, blooming in these varieties of vibrant colors. The big trees giving a safe place from the sun and a small lake, which you could sit next to.

"Do you feel better, My lady?" Hina was desperately trying to make you feel better, she was really a sweet girl.

"Yeah, it's calming here." the breeze which made your hair float a bit was refreshing.

"I'm glad." she smiled, "I was a bit worried after you ate without my lord this morning.

The cold that came over you made you shiver. What should you tell her? What would she think of the truth? How would she react? You'd better not tell her, hina had other problems. Hina shouldn't find out what you're going through and even if she did, would she tell Gojo? Would she tell him what your mother said to you? No, you couldn't risk that, it just wasn't reasonable.

She was such a nice girl.

So caring. So open minded. How were you so lucky? To have a face around you that's not stoic? You couldn't be more thankful.

"Oh, We just agreed to eat separately because of our different bed and his work time. And he has to eat early, that's why."

She locked a bit perplexed. And the little frown on her face told you that she didn't really believe you. But she didn't press anymore, just explained the flowers to you.

"Should we go to the library next?"

"That sounds lovely."

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺ Satoru never felt so bad. Yeah, he felt guilty a couple of times but never like this. But at the same time he was hurt. It felt like something was pressed down in his stomach and pushed around, when he just thought of these old bastards working with you.

He felt terrible. How was he supposed to act now? he wanted to go talk to you, but at the same time he felt like that would only make things worse. You worked with these people, you tolerated their ways. These people who were the root of the problem of this doomed society.

Maybe you did it all for your clan, but shouldn't your marriage with him be your priority now? Maybe he was being a selfish asshole, but it just hurt so damn much.

And then there was the letter. He still had the second letter, the one from your mother that you had left on your bedside table.

And he just didn't know whether he should open it or not. Actually he wanted to, actually he had to, because he wanted to know what was really written in there, but…

There was also the hurt look on your face when he had opened the other one. Every time he closed his eyes he saw this vulnerable expression on your face.

Would you even be able to forgive him then?

At the same time, you had lied to him and he just didn't know what to believe anymore. What should he do?

The paper in his hands was heavy, hard and incredibly uncomfortable in his hand, it was as if it was cursed.

He still knew the letter from the higher-ups by heart.

Dear Mrs. Gojo,

We are pleased to inform you that your little misstep is being forgiven. We hope you have a good honeymoon. Despite everything, we are still very unhappy with the incident and hope that you have learned from it to let us know before you act. But we are glad that you have taken the matter into your own hands and wish you happy days in which you hopefully get your husband under control.

See you at the next meeting.

The paper rustled in his hand and although his heart was beating incredibly fast, almost like to stop him, he opened the paper with his shaking fingers.

He was in the jujutsu academy near his old classroom. His mission was long finished. Earlier this day he wanted to talk to Geto about everything that has happened but his friend had accepted a mission that would probably take a while.

And now Satoru was alone to make probably a bad decision.

On the letter were numbers, no rather a date not so far away, which made him shiver.

Something was odd with the way the letter was written, the writing of your mother felt eerily. And he felt cursed energy. No, there had to be something wrong with your mother.

Should he really read it? Was it really his business what your mother was writing you?

The last week he got to see and hear you cry every night. Whispering your mother's name in fear. Maybe you did because you missed her. But something about this woman ticked something in him off.

He didn't want to sneak around behind your back.

But it began to be his business, the moment he started to care about his darling wife.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The Friday knocked on the door of your mind every minute of every day. And even though you didn't want to open the door for it, it did come around.

And you knew as you woke up that it would be torture.

You were tired. It was surreal how you could even stand up. How were you supposed to attend a meeting like that?

With a heavy heart you got ready and your eyes fell on the old hairpin your mother had given you - she really was everywhere.

This morning hina hadn't come by your room at all to tell you that gojo was eating breakfast.

Was it really still that early? No, it was almost noon. Oh God, noon! You had to get ready, you should be there soon!

Once again, they had scheduled so much time that you felt horrible. Would you have to listen to them babble on for hours again, the nasty words about your clan and how you would defile it?

"Hina?," you picked up your things and got ready. "I have to go now, would you please let the cook know that I'm not eating here today?"

There was no answer for a long time but eventually the girl came in with wide eyes.

"What do you mean, you are going?" she asked.

"Of course, Ihave to go to the meeting, didn't I tell you? Ihave an appointment." you took your hairpin and this time you even got ready with it.

"But why today?"

"I told you I have to go today. It's Friday, isn't it?"

Hina seemed different, somehow more tense than usual and it didn't make you feel good.

"If you say so." she said and picked up a few things that were dirty. "But please come back on time, not as late as last time, my lady."

A chuckle escaped you, as you saw her worried look. Why was she so tense about this?

"Don't worry, I won't die."

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"Did you make any progress?"

You wanted to eat your words. Since you came into the building you once called home you felt like a corpse. Your mother wasn't here, the maids telling you she got sick this morning.

You thought it wouldn't be that bad without her but you were mistaken. Normally she would sit beside you on the other side of the table, but now you sat there alone, like you were fighting against them on your own. Like no one here was on your side.

"My Honeymoon was lovely, thank you." you didn't know how the sentence slipped past your lips, but your exhaustion made your tongue slippery and your attitude bigger.

"Be careful young lady, you can be very thankful you are even still his wife! After your little misstep you can be very grateful for our forgiveness." an elderly woman spoke.

Every meeting she picked at you and took you apart. She always seemed so mad at you.

"I am." you lowered your head, hitting yourself for your carelessness.

"So there is a baby on the way?"

The leader of them, an old man with a long beard was looking at you with a neutral look. You could never read him.

The question scared you since you left for your honeymoon. This pressure on top of you was making you sick. The weight of it making you dizzy. What were you supposed to do? If you told them no, you could easily be banished back to your own Clan, and lose all of respect your mother had left for you.

If you told them yes, then you had to…

No, no, no, no, why? Why did you have to be a puppet for them? Why couldn't you just live? Why did you have to push all your emotions aside and drown them?

You were so scared of the night. So scared of the act you should have already done.

"It isn't, isn't it?" the elderly woman laughed as you gripped your stomach.

And even though it was empty, you felt like throwing up.

"I told you!" the woman stood up. "This girl shouldn't have been chosen for this! We need a woman who knows what is at stake here, not a filthy selfish little girl, who cries at the pressure!"

Every word pierced you, and you hated that tears formed themselves.

"Someone like your granddaughter?" The 'leader' of them raised an eyebrow. "Please, Kamo, that's ridiculous. And not in our control. Mrs. Gojo wanted to meet every girl and judge them personally. And be in control of the relations with other Clans."

His look at you was just as poisonous, regardless of his previous words.

"We have to work with this. Until we have found an alternative."

An alternative.

You were screwed. They had already a search going for a replacement. Were already ready to drop you and break the news to your Clan.

"I think she is misunderstanding something." A man, who was a bit younger than the rest, smiled smugly at you. "This whole thing isn't about love or wanting to do things. It's about what you have to do."

"So just get it over with and spare yourself the trouble?"

Your body felt so heavy, everything tense, fighting the urge to run away, to throw up and hide all at once.

Suddenly the door swung open and one of the guards came in completely out of breath and visibly agitated.

"I really tried, but I just couldn't stop him! That's just not in my power." he was out of breath.

"What are you talking about?" the old 'leader' stood up and suddenly looked so small. His eyes were big, something like fear was there.

"Well.." the guard looked uncomfortable.

And then you heard it. At first you thought it was one of them but then you realized.

"What do you think you are doing, talking to my wife like that?"

No, that couldn't be. How? How was he here? Why? What did you give away? No, this had to be one of your dumb dreams. Because it just couldn't be that Satoru Gojo just came through that door-

Oh.

Satoru had clothes on you had never seen on him before. It was an kimono, the usual for Clan leaders. His face was concentrated, didn't show any weakness in front of this important people. Instead it was almost belittling how he looked at them.

"There you are sweetheart!" his face lit up, as he spotted you, there was no sign of your fight and his anger. There was just Satoru.

He walked over to you, all these oh so mighty people clearing the way for him. He didn't even bat an eye at them. Without any hesitation he sat down next to you.

"Now, it really wasn't polite to not inform me of this meeting." he looked at them, with one of his challenging smiles. "But I will forgive it this one time. Now, what did you want to discuss with the Gojo leaders?"

You could see the shock in their faces. The elderly that screamed earlier, now glaring at you. Her gaze was almost cutting you, it was that sharp. And the old leader hesitated before sitting down.

"What are you doing here?" you whispered into his ear, careful to be silent enough that they wouldn't hear you.

"We will talk later." he grabbed your hand and squeezed it gently.

"This wasn't really a meeting with the Gojo leaders." the slightly younger man spoke up, breaking the silence from the mighty higher-ups.

"Oh, but I don't understand." Gojo tilted his head. "If it wasn't then why did you speak to my wife?"

A shiver went down your back as you saw into their faces. They didn't say anything. Suddenly the position of power was shifted and they were careful to say something.

"It was about her duties for her Clan." the elderly woman shook her head. "And she was specifically asked to be her alone."

"I wonded," His grip on your hand tightened. "What of these duties are so important, you can't discuss with me too? Because last time I checked, my wife's Clan was the Gojo Clan now. So what responsibility does she hold that I don't?"

Your hands began to sweat. All of these people were shooting daggers at you and you felt like you would be murdered if Satoru left the room.

"She still has to make the relation of the Gojo Clan with her old one better-"

"And why can't I be there too?" Satoru started to laugh. "That's the thing you don't really have a reason other than to play my wife against me. Don't you?"

You couldn't help but lower your head. The tears now pushing your head down.

"Well, she wanted to come alone with her mother!" the woman who seemed to be called Kamo spoke loudly. Now you could feel all of their gazes. "Didn't you, Mrs. Gojo?"

Your body began to heat up, fire embracing you, swallowing you whole. It was itching. Decisions, decisions, decisions, why were you not doing anything, why couldn't you move? Your own body felt like a prison.

"You dumb girl, say something!" you heard her scream again. "If you don't then-"

Suddenly her voice died down. You could feel the shift and pressure was falling off of you onto the ground. And as you slowly rose your head you saw the woman pressed onto the wall, the others all in a fighting pose.

"Be careful what you are saying." Satoru's voice was icy. His eyes were like a warning and he didn't even move to activate his cursed technique. Was that the great Gojo your father was so fond about?

"Anyone talking ill about ot to my wife makes themself the Gojo Clan as enemy. And you know what I'm capable of."

The woman dropped to the ground.

"I think we can move the meeting to another day, can't we?"

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"Why were you there today?"

Satoru sat on the opposite side of the dining table, the car ride home with him long behind you two. You waited till home to talk to him, the courage finally growing.

He stopped eating and looked up at you. He still had these clothes on, the ones that mirrored his real position.

He shifted in his seat, his eyes avoiding yours.

Then he sighed and dropped his cutlery. "I didn't want you to be alone with them."

You shook your head. "Why? I told you, it's just about-

"Stop it." he raised a hand. "Please let me talk."

You kept quiet after that. Now it was your turn to look down.

"I've been so angry the last few days. You accused me of not knowing you, but at the same time you pretended to know what my childhood was like. How could you have known that? I've known these people since i was little, i know about their games, their desire for control and especially their obsession with strength."

His voice was slightly shaking. "I'm not denying that I had some freedom, but I want you to know that a big cage is still holding someone down. And these people have always controlled my cage."

You wanted to say something, but every sentence that your head crafted was forgotten in the next second.

"But," he began, his voice now a little firmer. "It still didn't give me the right to be like this to you. Mainly I want to apologize to you and that I came to the meeting today was not because I didn't trust you but because I couldn't stand the thought of them torturing you."

"I'm sorry for invading your privacy. I know it wasn't right and I'm sorry that I only realized it after I read the letter from your mother."

You pushed the chair back so violently, it fell over. "You did, WHAT?"

Satoru looked down, shameful.

"That's why you knew where and when we would meet up?" you couldn't contain the hurt in your voice, but for the first time you didn't care.

He nodded.

"Do you really think I'm acting against you, or-"

"No!" Now it was his turn to stand up. And in only a matter of seconds he stood right before you. "It's not because I think badly of you!"

His hands were going through his hair, making it much messier than usual. You saw how he bit his lip, and it felt surreal to see Gojo Satoru so vulnerable.

"I- All of this was just driving me crazy!" he sighed frustrated. "Knowing you meet up with these people and didn't even want me to know about it. Knowing these people were talking and seeing you more than I was."

Your mind went blank as you looked at his eyes. Were they always this sad?

"When you said you wanted to have a Honeymoon to get to know me, I felt so happy, so relieved!" he turned around and paced around the rooom.

"Do you know how you look at me?" his voice was shaking. "Scared. You look at me like you are scared of me. Like I will do you wrong. Like it's me that's pressuring you."

He stopped in his tracks and let out a shaky laugh. "And then I thought that I was maybe imagining that and you weren't scared of me."

He shook his head. "And then I saw the letter. I didn't read it right away, but when I asked you some things, you lied to me and had that scared look again. And… I don't know, it was so crushing to know you never wanted to go with me on our honeymoon!"

His voice broke down a bit at the end.

And as you stood there, you felt yourself becoming shaky too. You didn't want him to think that. You were mad at him, you were still hurt, obviously, but…

You didn't want him to be hurt too.

"Satoru…" you began, but he raised another hand to stop you.

"That still doesn't excuse what I did. I don't want you to pity me into forgiveness."

You shook your head. "I am at fault too." One step towards him. "I just have my problems to trust you right away. But you were right."

You smiled as you looked down. "I do accuse you of not knowing me, but then run away from you trying. That's unfair."

As you looked up, he was already looking at him. And you could see a slight redness in his oh so blue eyes.

"I will try to open up more."

He gulped as stared at you. "I will be patient. And- I will make it up to you, till you forgive me! Really, I will never invade your-"

You chuckled a bit, some of the forming tears in your eyes escaping. "It's alright Satoru. You don't have to promise the world right now."

"Let's take it slow. That's a start."

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺ It was late at night. You were sitting on the couch in Satoru's big living room. You were watching a movie, he was begging to show you.

And for the first time since that night you were relaxed and all the exhaustion fell from you. Your head fell onto his shoulder, any feel of shame was long gone from being so tired.

He didn't move as you were drifting into your long awaited sleep.

"Hey, can you hear me?" he was whispering as you hummed.

"I still want to apologize. For not appearing to any arrangement meetings. I never did that."

His shoulder was really soft and you felt so heavy.

"I hope you sleep well, sweetheart. You deserve it more than anyone."

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

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[kafkaeya]

healing an injury pt2

characters: wriothesley / alhaitham / kaveh

requests: open

tw: minor injury detail / mildly suggestive (wrio) / referred to as a woman (wrio)

an: needed a part 2. needed wrio. still need wrio <3

"i can just go to the infirmary, you know?"

"i know, but stay here anyway."

wriothesley was sitting on his office chair, while you were perched on his desk cleaning a wound on his jaw. holding his head up with one hand, and wiping the blood with a cloth in your other, his protests were audible but futile. wriothesley was going to stay right here, and you were going to take care of him - whether he liked it or not.

"it's really not that bad. just a little--"

"stop objecting and sit still."

"yes ma'am."

most of the time spent wiping his cut was filled with silence, wriothesley looking up into your eyes as you patched him up. then, once you finished, he said with a smile on his face:

"i could get used to this view."

"stop teasing, wrio," you replied.

"i could also get used to you telling me what to do."

alhaitham forever valued home comforts, and it was clear upon his return to your place that he was unwilling to leave again anytime soon. however, this time, he arrived with a graze on his knee - not too deep, yet still enough to impact his gait.

"wait there, love," you told him. "i'll get some plasters and such."

"no, no, i'm fine." alhaitham said, sitting down with a groan.

"right... you sound it." your sardonic response caused his eyebrows to furrow, yet he ended up following your instructions anyway.

you ended up knelt down in front of him, patching up his knee. alhaitham was watching idly, his head tilted as he looked down at you.

"i do not need you to take care of me. i can sort myself out. however, i appreciate this."

"i know," you looked up at him with a smile. "but i like making sure you're okay, even if you could sort it yourself."

with a flourish, kaveh entered the room - holding out his hand in your direction. before you could even say hello, he started saying, "i've been stung! a bee, it's stung me!"

your eyes widen, quickly taking his hand in yours. "that's not good, kaveh! it looks really red."

"this is it! it has been lovely to date you, we had a good run, i'm sorry i didn't write a will in--"

"kaveh, shh.. let me just put some cream on it. it'll stop the swelling and soreness."

kaveh was still whining, "--time, and i hope you find someone who will make you very h-- h-huh?"

you laughed to yourself, beaming eyes looking at kaveh's. "you're not dying, my love. it will calm. you will live long enough to write that will."

kaveh was still whining and complaining while you applied the cream, caressing it gently into his hand. it was only when he fully processed that his hand was in yours, and your thumbs were rubbing cream into his skin, that he stopped. "this... this is nice. maybe i should get stung more often."

"not your wisest idea, kaveh."

[wholoveseggs]

Kinktober - {Day Twenty-Nine} {<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Daemon Targaryen x f!Reader} Request {Anon}: Daemon with 1, 7 and 22...

♡♡♡ Angry dominant Daemon is just soooo hot~ ♡♡♡

2k words - Kinks: dubcon, overstim, breeding kink, possessive behavior, wall sex, angry sex, slight dom/sub ...

"What have I told you?" Your husband's voice was dark, his anger palpable as he stood in the doorway. He was still dressed for battle, armor covered in the blood of his enemies and his face splattered with it as well. His hand was clenched tight around his sword, as if ready to strike you. "What did I say before I left?"

"That I was to remain in the castle until you returned." Your voice was quiet, submissive as you averted your eyes to the floor. You tried to hide your smile as you looked down, you couldn't help that you found the fire in him enticing. He was always so gentle with you, so careful. But this? This side of him was exciting.

"Yet I hear you've been running around the town, spending time in the tavern with men who don't deserve to even look at you." His voice was dangerous, as he closed the door behind him and started taking off his armor. He was slow about it, almost methodical as he placed his sword beside the bed and set his chest plate on the table. "You disobeyed me."

You let out a chuckle at his words, he wasn't usually so possessive, and he enjoyed your wild nature. It was one of the reasons you'd caught his eye, your refusal to submit to his whims. "You know how much I hate being cooped up in the castle." You looked back up at him, meeting his gaze as you smirked. "I'm sorry I worried you."

"Sorry?" He scoffed as he removed the last of his armor, leaving him only in his breeches. He stalked towards you, reaching a hand out to roughly grab your chin. "Sorry won't save you from what I have planned." His voice was a purr as his other hand moved to your corset. "I'll keep you locked up here with my child, remind you what a good little wife you are."

"Child?" You were surprised by his words, he'd never once expressed the desire to have children. In fact, the two of you had been avoiding the possibility since the night you married. Neither of you wanted to deal with a squalling child, not when there were other pleasures you could partake in. "Daem-"

He cut you off with a harsh kiss, teeth pulling at your bottom lip as his hands tore away the laces of your corset. He didn't break the kiss, instead he pushed into the small of your back, drawing you close against his hard body. He was rough, and you couldn't deny the heat that rushed through you. He wasn't usually like this, but it was a welcome change.

"It's time, don't you agree? We have to produce an heir." His voice was soft as he spoke, moving to kiss down your jaw. "You can't be so reckless with our child inside you, can you? You'd be more careful, I'm sure."

You couldn't tell if his words were meant for you or him, but they were a comfort. He was afraid of something happening to you, and this was his way of assuring himself that wouldn't happen.

His hands were rough, yanking and tearing at your dress as if he couldn't wait another moment to see you. The fabric ripped and you gasped, pushing on his chest as you tried to get away.

"That was new, Daemon!" You were annoyed with him, the dress had been expensive and made by the best seamstress in King's Landing.

"And yet it's in pieces now." He responded, a smirk on his lips as he pulled you back to him. He didn't give you the chance to respond, his mouth finding yours again as he lifted you up.

His hands gripped the underside of your thighs, fingers digging into the soft skin as he pressed you into the nearest wall. The cold stones caused you to shiver, and you felt him smile against your lips.

He took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, and you moaned at the taste of him. He was sweaty and musky, the smell and taste of war still clinging to him. You loved it, loved the way he smelled like a man should.

He broke the kiss, moving to nip and suck on the sensitive skin of your neck. He quickly unplaced his breeches with one hand, using his knee to keep you propped up against the wall.

"Do you have any idea what I wanted to do to those men when I heard?" His voice was a growl as he spoke, pressing his hips into yours. "What I should do to them, for daring to touch what's mine."

"They didn't-" Your words were cut off by a moan, as his cock rubbed against your cunt. He was hard and hot, the tip already leaking as he slowly slid into you.

"Quiet," He was slow as he entered you, stretching your walls. His voice was breathy as he spoke, his own pleasure evident.

He was slow at first, taking his time as he moved his hips. He was still kissing and sucking on your neck, marking the skin with a trail of red bruises. He wanted everyone to see, to know you were his.

You could feel the way he was holding back, the way his body trembled. He was fighting the urge to be rough, the animalistic side of him threatening to break free. But you didn't want him to hold back, didn't want him to treat you gently. You wanted him to let go, and fuck you like a wild animal.

"Am I not allowed to be admired by others?" You were taunting him, hoping to push him over the edge. "Am I not allowed to enjoy the company of handsome men?"

He chuckled at your attempt to provoke him, but it was a hollow sound. "You are not." He said simply, his grip tightening on your thighs. He increased his pace, pounding into you harder as he spoke. "I want every man in this city to know you're mine, to know you'll always be mine."

You whimpered as his words, your back arching against the wall as his cock rubbed against your sweet spot. You were already so close, and his words were doing nothing to help.

He noticed the change, the way your cunt clenched around him. He hummed, a dark smirk on his lips. "No, you won't cum until I allow it."

"Please." You whispered, your fingers tangling in his hair as he continued his brutal pace. He was relentless, hitting the right spot every time.

"Not yet." He whispered, his voice dark and commanding. "You'll take what I give you."

Your eyes widened at his words, and you knew he wouldn't relent. You bit down on your lip, trying to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. He was punishing you, and you weren't sure how much longer you could take it.

"Will you put your heir inside me, my prince?" Your voice was a whisper, your fingers digging into the muscle of his shoulders.

His only response was a grunt, and you felt him twitch inside you. Your words were working, breaking his unshakable control. He was losing himself, and you couldn't wait to see him snap.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his thrusts becoming erratic and his breathing heavy. Pounding into so hard that your head hit the stone wall, your hips slamming against it with every movement. Pain and pleasure blended into one distinct feeling, and you knew you wouldn't last much longer.

He was chasing his release, his own pleasure the only thing on his mind. There was still a rage simmering under his skin, a fire that threatened to consume the both of you. And you couldn't help but think how beautiful he was, the way the moonlight caught his sweat slick skin, the way his muscles rippled and tensed beneath his skin.

His thrusts were brutal, his grip on your thighs almost bruising as he chased his pleasure. You could feel the way his body was trembling, the way his breathing was labored. Soft little moans caught between his lips, his face contorted in a mix of lust and anger.

And then you felt it, the way his cock pulsed inside you. The warmth of his seed as it filled you, and his hips stuttered as he pressed deep inside you, holding you still. His head dropped onto your shoulder, his breath hot on your skin as he panted.

You waited, his seed already leaking out of you, but his cock was still hard. He wasn't done, not yet. He held you close, carrying you over to the bed, his cock never leaving the warmth of your cunt.

He was careful as he laid you down, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing more of him.

He began thrusting again, slower this time, and deeper. His movements were calculated, each roll of his hips perfectly aimed to bring you both the most pleasure.

His hand moved between the two of you, his thumb finding your sensitive nub. Rubbing in tight circles, and you knew it wouldn't take long. Not with the way he was pounding into you, the way his cock filled and stretched you.

"Come," He commanded, his voice low and breathless. "Let me feel you."

And that was all it took, your back arched, and your nails scratching down his chest, leaving bright red welts in their wake. Your cunt clenched around him, drawing a moan from his lips.

He followed after you, his hips snapping forward a final time, his seed filling you once more. He collapsed on top of you, his head buried in the crook of your neck, his body a solid weight pressing you into the bedding.

You ran your hands through his hair, gently combing the silky locks. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes were closed, his face peaceful. He was so beautiful like this, but you couldn't help but wonder what had brought on his rage, his need.

You'd heard the whispers of course, the rumors of his behavior after a battle. Some said he went mad, killing anyone in his path, while others said he used the bloodshed to fuel his lust. But only you knew the truth, with every swing of his sword, he thought of you. Worrying about your safety, his love and affection for you was what kept him fighting, what kept him going. And now he was using that passion, that fire, to claim you as his own.

He was never a man of words, his actions speaking louder than any pretty poem or flowery sonnet. He didn't have the ability to explain his feelings, but he showed them with every look, every touch.

"Do you really wish for a child?" You whispered, your voice barely audible.

He let out a soft grunt of agreement, his body shifting as he rolled off you. He laid on his side, his arm draped across your waist, pulling you flush against his body.

"You should get some rest." He whispered, his words muffled by your hair. "I plan to keep you occupied tomorrow."

"Is that so?" You asked, a smirk on your lips.

"Yes." His voice was thick with sleep, his body relaxing into the bedding. "I have to make sure I've bred you properly, after all."

You rolled your eyes, his arrogance still intact, even when tired.

"Don't roll your eyes at me." He murmured, his hand resting on your stomach. "I've seen the way you've looked at the other children, and the way the mothers gaze upon you. You're jealous, and I aim to give you what you want."

"I didn't know you were so perceptive." You teased, your eyes closing as his warmth surrounded you.

"I choose not to be." He whispered, his voice fading into nothing. His breathing was soft, his body limp as he fell asleep.

Your husband was a complicated man, and his behavior was unpredictable. But it was moments like these, when his guard was down and his thoughts were clear, that you truly saw him.

And you liked what you saw, his heart, his soul, the good and the bad. The beast, the knight, the man. It was all just him, and you wouldn't change a thing.

{<- kinktober masterlist}

[just-a-creep-babe]

Are your requests still open? I'm not sure about your time zone so I hope it's ok if I ask how would you think relationships with the creeps would be realistically? Like how would Jeff, Masky, Ej, and Ben act if they were real and actually interested enough to date someone? I was just interested in your interpretation since I really enjoy how you write them! ✨

I feel like I’ve maybe gone over a few of these points before but I can’t remember for certain 😬

Either way, I hope none of these were too repetitive!! And tysm!! 🥰🫶

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

Jeff the Killer

It’s no secret this guy’s crazy egotistical

So as soon as he sees someone he’s interested in, it's like he just needs to have them

They’re an ego boost; a prized trophy that further proves he’s better than everyone else

He almost doesn’t see them as a full person, but more of a commodity

Really, it doesn’t matter whether or not they want the relationship—as far as he’s concerned, he knows what’s best for them

And, coincidentally, what's best for them is him

He's a super controlling partner

Literally the embodiment of your body, my choice

Part of him expects his s/o to pliantly conform themselves to his every whim and desire

But the other part secretly thinks it’s super hot when they talk back to him

He's always liked the feisty ones, and it gives him the perfect excuse to put them back in their place~

In terms of emotional intimacy, his partner really shouldn't expect much

Jeff mentally blocks all of that kind of stuff out, and he thinks people who are open about it are weak

At best, he'll ignore his partner's efforts to connect with him on a deeper level

And at worst, he'll belittle them and use their vulnerabilities against them as a manipulation tactic

So it's overall best to keep some amount of emotional distance from him, in all honesty

The plus side to dating Jeff is that he's super protective

To the point of it being suffocating, so it isn't all that much of a positive, but I digress

Since he sees his partner as his possession, and since he's very protective of his things, he'll be damn sure nothing bad happens to them

And everyone better damn well know that they're off-limits or he will remind them by carving it into their skin

At the end of the day, Jeff primarily wants sex, first and foremost

And secondly, he wants someone that'll inflate his ego; either by being a pretty piece of eye candy by his side or by constantly gushing over him and blowing smoke up his ass

Deep down, he does want someone to care for him—someone he could love and trust, and who would protect him as much as he'll protect them—but he's way too emotionally damaged to even admit he wants that

He definitely doesn't make it easy to love him

BEN Drowned

Honestly, a relationship with him would be relatively chill

All he really wants is someone to fuck and hang out and game with

He does have a dark side, which manifests as possessive/obsessive behaviors and manipulative tendencies, and a good dose of neediness to top it all off

But it's to be expected

And, really, if his s/o just behaves and gives him all of their love and attention, then it's not like they have anything to worry about, anyway

As long as they game with him every night for at least 3 hours, have sex with him a minimum of 4 times a week, answer his texts within 10 minutes, and never spend more time with someone else, then everything's fine

He's prone to spying on them through their devices, especially if they don't do the above-mentioned things to his liking

And he'll use anything in his arsenal to ensure that they stay wrapped around his little finger

Like I said, super needy and manipulative

He'll fuck with their self-esteem, their worldview, their perception of the people around them until they can't imagine living without him

He'll become their world; he wants their life to revolve around him and him only

And if things don't go his way, it'll only get worse

Much worse

He's not above eliminating anyone he's jealous of, or even isolating his partner until they don't have a choice but to accept him back into their lives

He will fully turn psycho if he, for whatever reason, thinks that he might be losing his partner

But until that time comes, until the relationship reaches that point, it'll all be smooth sailing

He's smart enough to know just the right amount to push things to keep the relationship afloat for as long as possible

Which, despite being one of the chillest partners on a surface level, quickly makes him one of the most dangerous ones when things go south

He'll stop at nothing to keep the person he likes

And his partner will never be any the wiser of the darkness that lurks behind his easy-going intentions

They better hope they never reach the tipping point that reveals his true nature

Eyeless Jack

He's actually the chillest creep to be in a relationship with

Unlike the others, Jack firmly clings to those remaining scraps of humanity within him

If he hadn't been transformed, he'd be a perfectly fine and well-adjusted member of society

So a relationship with him would be like, well, any other relationship with a normal person

He has his emotional hangups here and there, and he isn't perfect; he struggles with communicating his feelings and intentions, and he can close himself off when he's following down

But that's par for the course as far as relationship difficulties go

The biggest issue that'll come up that probably doesn't have a Buzzfeed article to help you out is dealing with his demonic side

But even then, he's gotten fairly good at controlling himself, so it'll never be too disruptive—as long as his partner keeps an open mind about the whole thing

He'll be more possessive, and he'll get jealous more easily, but he'll never lash out at his partner because of it

If anything, if he smells someone on his partner, he'll just want to scent them—so all he needs is some physical contact to reassure him

He can get insecure about his nature from time to time, but again, a bit of reassurance goes a long way

Honestly, the most dangerous thing about dating Jack is probably his urge to mark his partner

Marking a human has a few... complications, to say the least

He's naturally bound to get more possessive and much more sexually needy, which could lead him to injure his partner

But, you know, that's just part of the risks that come with dating a demon hybrid

A relationship with Jack has its ups and downs, which honestly might get more intense than a regular human relationship, but even then, a lot of humans are far crazier than Jack, even despite his nature

Even though he deals with some pretty powerful entities, he'll make sure his s/o is safe at all times—no one will ever be able to hurt them

And even though he's a cannibal, he'd probably be too protective of them to take a nibble out of them

Like, sure, he'd love to taste them—and he'd be willing to bet they taste divine—but even if they'd be open to trying it, he wouldn't want to risk it

Overall? 10/10, can not recommend dating this man enough

Masky

Masky's very hot and cold in a relationship

The stress of work combined with the physical and mental strain of being in Slender's proximity all the time does not make things easy for him

He's prone to lashing out, closing himself off, abusing whatever substance he can get his hands on, and generally spiraling out of control

Which does not make it easy for his s/o

Since Slender took an interest in him when he was still fairly young, he's almost always had symptoms of the Slender Sickness, so he's not super experienced with long-term relationships

Meaning that alongside dealing with his mood swings, his partner will also have to guide him through the ups and downs of dating

Which is just a whole extra set of difficulties his s/o will have to face

Being in a relationship with Masky really isn't easy

But the thing is, when things are good with him, they're really good

It's like he only knows how to operate on extremes; his lows are incredibly low and his highs are intoxicatingly high

When he's on a high, he'll make his partner feel like they're on top of the world

Nothing can get in the way of pleasing his partner; not time or money or even the boundaries of the law

He'll shower them with attention and affection, he'll take them on once-in-a-lifetime experiences—he'll make them feel truly heard and loved

Their connection will be like none other; he'll make them feel like they've conquered the world together

But when he's on a down, honestly, his partner might just be better off ignoring him until he gets better again

Which could take weeks or even months

But ultimately the distance will likely be better than being around him when he's going through it

Because although he isn't proud of it, he may get violent and even abusive without necessarily meaning to

And once he snaps himself out of it, he'll be upset to the point where it'll make him spiral even lower

And once he's over it, he'll be right back to gift and love-bombing them all over again because it's his way of apologizing and making sure he won't lose them

As great as things could be with him, and as addictive as he might get, his partner should keep some kind of distance from him—for their own sake

[necronomeconomicism]

Voting in the United States is unintuitive, often undemocratic, and painful. The natural emotional reaction with being asked to support vile people at the ballot box is disgust and avoidance. For leftists it doesn't help either when dominant narratives about voting put it on a pedestal as something patriotic system-serving citizens do.

But voting doesn't have to mean declaring personal support or belief in anyone, and there is a lot more to vote on than the presidency. Still, there's no bubble to fill in that says "Gay luxury space communism immediately!" so what do we do with the ballot?

There are two kinds of things you might get to vote on. Representatives and Propositions(or Measures). Representatives are those politicians the news is always abuzz about. Propositions are US America's cute attempt at direct democracy and can be a breath of fresh air to vote on when they're not trying to con you. Most are "citizen-initiated" so this is where you'll find most non centrist political actions. As I understand it 24 states do not have citizen-initiated propositions and of them some don't seem to have propositions at all. If you live in one of those I'm sorry.

Your mental energy should be prioritized in this order.

Propositions -> Local Representatives -> State Representatives -> Federal Representatives -> Presidency

UNLESS you live in a swing state, the list of which can vary depending on the election. In that case you'll have to think about the presidency first. I'm sorry. The electoral college is stupid.

I live in California, so we'll be going through part of the 2024 California ballot. Before we get into this know there is nothing wrong with using a voting guide that just tells you what to vote for. That is, only if the guide is good, which is uncommon. Most guides are either horrible or don't cover everything on the ballot. Before using a voting guide check who is funding it. If it has any holes consider researching those propositions or elected positions yourself.

California has 11 propositions on the ballot. I'm only going to go over one in detail, but I do want to bring up some more straightforward ones to illustrate a point

Prop 3 enshrines gay marriage in the California constitution Prop 6 bans forced prison labor in the state Prop 32 raises the minimum wage to $18 Prop 33 allows local governments to enact stronger rent control

Propositions like these, if they are available, leave decent leftists no excuse not to vote. No matter how much you detest the presidential candidates, no matter how revolutionary you aspire to be, no matter how much you hate American "democracy" propositions like these can have immense positive impacts on people's lives when they pass. You cannot allow yourself to be thoroughly terrified of the ballot box when these exist. And on the other hand

Prop 36 makes drug possession a felony and makes theft under $950 a felony after multiple violations

You cannot just do nothing and let something that monstrous pass. And it fucking might! And all that good stuff might not! There are more than twice as many millions of dollars in advertisements pushing prop 36 than against it right now. Forget the presidency for a moment, if you live in California, you get to decide if literal slavery is allowed in prisons or not.

As for representatives I'm not going to say exactly what city I live in, but I can say there are multiple elected positions that aren't even divided along party lines. There are also multiple state, district, and county representatives that aren't just horrible people. Many of them backed by unions rather than corporate money.

There's also sneaky shit on the ballot. I mentioned earlier propositions made to con you. This season's example is Prop 34 which, "requires certain healthcare providers to spend 98% of the revenues from the federal discount prescription drug program on direct patient care." Sounds maybe like a neat healthcare bill, but it says "certain" and that's a tricky word on the ballot. In this case Prop 34 specifies it only applies to healthcare providers that own housing. Only one healthcare provider in California does that, the AIDS Healthcare Foundation. A non profit that has put its weight behind affordable housing including support for Prop 33.

Without people doing the research on things like Prop 34, bills like this can easily pass and enable all sorts of chicanery.

So go vote! Do some research and make some changes to the world! Don't let it be the only thing you do either. Voting only happens every two years. Contact your local political groups and volunteer your time or even just listen. Talk to your friends about what you're doing. Exercise your political muscles! Exercise your organizational muscles! Solidarity can be hard, but we have to be up for it. Your leftism has to affect the world around you or it will rot in the prison that is your skull.

[changbunnies]

Revelation (18+)

♡ Pairing: Vampire Priest!Jeongin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: very loosely inspired by midnight mass (tv), horror themes, vampire / human relationship, smut, possibly dead dove? read the warnings carefully and come to ur own conclusion on what you're willing to read before engaging pls :')

♡ Word Count: 4k

♡ Summary: The suspiciously young and extremely handsome priest of your small-town church has a very big secret– and it's not until he's sinking his fangs into your neck that you discover what exactly that secret is.

♡ General Warnings: usage of typical vampire abilities (increased senses, strength, etc), descriptions of blood, religious themes (specifically catholicism focused), references to religious guilt + shame, reader does not trust jeongin at all (for good reason lol), very blatant manipulation, cult vibes? jeongin basically has the whole town under his thumb so. do with that what you will lol

♡ Smut Warnings: dubcon, vampire venom that acts as an aphrodisiac, sexual acts inside a church (specifically in a confessional booth), some gendered language (dirty + good girl), dom/sub dynamics, dom!jeongin, biting + blood drinking, thigh riding, fingering (f rec), a lil bit of praise kink, corruption kink?

♡ Notes: this is possibly niche but well. the vampire priest concept lives rent free in my head thanks to midnight mass, and innie said he wanted to be a priest + he'd definitely be a sexy vampire so here we are lmao. and sorry i'm suddenly posting out of age order for my late kinktober fics but i ended up finishing this before the other members i still have left :')

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

There's something that isn't right about your local church's head priest. Firstly, his age doesn't make sense; who on God's green earth becomes a priest in their 20s?

At least, you assume that's around how old Father Yang, who notably prefers to be called Jeongin, is– you've never been told, and you've never asked, but he certainly doesn't look any older than that.

Secondly, why are his sermons always at night? In all the towns you've ever lived in, in all the churches you've ever frequented, this is the first time you've ever experienced your standard, weekly Sunday service routinely happening at 9 p.m.

And thirdly, why is it that everyone who meets with him for confession comes back looking delirious and.. euphoric, almost? You don't get it– sure, confessing your sins is freeing; asking for and receiving God's forgiveness is among the best feelings that can be experienced if you're a devout believer, but still.

Something about all of it just doesn't sit right with you– and to make matters worse, you seem to be the only person in town suspicious of him. You're new to town, have only been here a handful of months, so you get it– you're the outsider, you don't know him like they do, et cetera, et cetera.

But how can not a single other person in town be bothered by how strange it all is? There has to be an explanation– you don't know what it is, and you don't know why you're the only one who seems to care, but there must be a reason.

It's Sunday again, and you spend the entire sermon watching Jeongin like a hawk, trying to catch any sign as to what it is about him that has all these people so enraptured. And while it's not necessarily wrong for him to be, another thing that strikes you is that he's easily the most casually dressed yet stylish priest you've ever met.

He wears the standard clergy vest and rabat, as he should, but over it is a leather jacket, and he wears denim blue jeans instead of dress pants. His shoes are sleek and polished, he has pretty, ornate rings decorating his fingers, has expertly styled slicked hair and silver earrings dangling from his pierced ears.

Again, it's not necessarily wrong, but it's definitely something you wouldn't think a priest's Sunday best would entail. And maybe that's only because the priests in your life have only ever been old, and didn't put much thought into style, but maybe that's what people like about him?

Maybe it makes him seem more down to earth and approachable; maybe it's easier to confess your sins when, outstanding devotion to God aside, he seems like as ordinary a person as any other. Of course, that's logically always the case, but some priests have an intimidating "holier-than-thou" attitude about them, and it certainly helps Jeongin's case that he seemingly makes an effort to not give off that vibe.

And admittedly, he's charming– there's something so uniquely handsome about the way he smiles while preaching God's word, how his eyes twinkle while he recites a scripture and relates it back to a point he made several minutes prior; you can't deny that it's enthralling.

But when he looks over the attendees lined in the pews, it always feels like he's looking straight through you, seeing to the depths of your soul and laying it bare. It gives you chills, honestly; makes you feel exposed in a way that's indescribable; like with a glance alone, he knows all your secrets, your every sin, down to their most minute details.

It's near midnight when his sermon ends; you stay seated in the backmost pew to the left, brows furrowed as everyone shakes his hand or hugs him, thanking him for another "terrific service." It's so bizarre– and it's not until the last of the congregation exits the small, wooden church that you begin to rise from your seat.

Though you're sure the church carries electricity and that the lights can be flicked on, the priest never does so– he always uses candles, casting a warm yellow glow on the dingy, white wood of the walls. It casts more shadows, gives the place an almost unsettling air– and when he turns to you, just as he's closing the Bible in his hand and setting it down, it sends a shiver through you.

"You're still here," Jeongin smiles at you from where he stands before the altar, centralized at the head of the church. It's a kind enough one, but you don't trust it; you can't shake the feeling that something lies beneath it– something abberant and dark that you can't place, but are certain is there.

"Do you wish to confess?" he asks, motions to the confessional booth with his hand as he tilts his head. "No," you answer, perhaps too quickly– and his smile grows ever so slightly, as if he's amused. At least, that's how you perceive his expression; and it makes you narrow your eyes at him, the distrust that radiates off you certainly palpable.

Your opinion of him is no secret, really; and he can tell you're scrutinizing him, trying to catch him in whatever act you think he's playing– it won't work, but it does humor him that you're trying. He doesn't know what sort of wild conclusions you've come to about him, but if you see anything, it'll be because he himself wanted you to see it– until then, you won't learn a single thing about who he truly is.

"Is there a reason you're still here then?" Jeongin questions next, and you swallow, hesitant to answer. Admittedly, you only stuck around in case someone did decide to go confess to him– you intended to eavesdrop, to try to listen in and find out what's really going on behind closed curtains.

It would've been massively immoral, but you would've confessed and asked for forgiveness later– privately, that is. You have no intention of seeking the Father's help in such matters, given how little trust you have towards him.

But still, despite the fact that you were willing to sneak around and listen to private conversations, you aren't entirely willing to lie in the house of God– so after some internal grappling with yourself on what you should and shouldn't do in this position, on what is right and wrong, you end up admitting the truth.

"I don't trust you," you tell Jeongin plainly, and you can swear you see him trying to suppress a smirk.

"I'm aware," he says, so matter of fact that it almost sends you reeling. And it's not that you were so disillusioned into thinking you weren't being obvious; you know very well that you weren't being the most covert in your suspicion of him– it's how unbothered and amused by it he seems to be that really gets you.

Shouldn't he be offended? Question your reasoning? Try immediately to dispel your doubts and clear up any misconceptions you may have? Instead, he seems more than ready to just accept it for what it is– even seems entertained by it.

"Does it not bother you that I don't trust you?" you ask, and he almost laughs as he shakes his head. "No. There's no reason for it to," he answers simply; and before you can ask why, or what he means, he's already answering– you suspect he could already tell you were going to press him on the matter.

"God teaches us to love one another. So even if you do not love me, or trust me, I love you, just as God instructs me to," Jeongin smiles as he speaks, and again, your brows furrow. It's a perfect answer, really– but it feels.. inorganic, almost rehearsed.

And the glimmer in his eye throws you off; it doesn't feel like the pure, honest delight you'd see on a priest putting God's word into practice. It feels mischievous, deceitful– like he doesn't believe an ounce of what he's saying, but he wants you to believe that he does.

"I know what you're thinking," he says, and you swallow, stiffening where you stand as he continues, "And if you really want to know what goes on during confession, want to see for yourself what it is I do to help the people who look to me, I can show you."

If you're being entirely honest, the offer is tempting; and strangely, it also makes you feel.. bad, almost– makes you second guess yourself. Because if he's freely offering like this, surely it can't be whatever you've been making it out to be in your head.

There's no way he'd out himself, and whatever it is he does, just to gain the trust of one person out of hundreds who doesn't believe his pure intentions. And maybe the other townsfolk really do trust him for good reason; maybe you've just been examining the situation and looking at Jeongin and the church in the wrong light.

Maybe you've been blowing everything out of proportion with obscene assumptions, and maybe he really is just a good priest. Maybe he makes you feel so seen, heard, and whole, that all your worldly problems melt away, feel trivial and light in comparison to God's plan for you.

Because after all, you are the outlier here. You're the only one in the whole town that doesn't trust him; and surely that means you're the one in the wrong. Jeongin does things differently than you're used to, but that doesn't mean he's inherently bad. And maybe you should confess– ask God to forgive you for not being receptive to the word of one of His servants.

Jeongin smiles when you concede and start to slowly step your way to the confessional. You pull back the curtain, step inside and prepare to sit in the small, wooden booth seat, but you quickly realize he's followed you inside. You gasp as you turn around, back pressing against the intricately carved hardwood window of the booth as he closes you in.

"Sh-Shouldn't you be on the other side?" you ask, much too meek for your liking. It's a cramped fit given that the booth is only meant to fit a single person on either side at a time; it makes you unconsciously hold your breath as you're effectively caged inside the booth with him– nowhere to go, and nothing you can do but stare at him, bewildered.

"No," he answers as quick and simple as before, his smile once again growing ever so slightly. And maybe you could push him, try to dart past him if you manage to successfully make him topple back, but you feel frozen– because even in the dark, barely lit confessional you're in, you're certain that you see his dull canines become long, pearly white fangs.

"Don't worry, it will only hurt for a second," he assures you as he brings his hands to your arms, gripping them just below your shoulder as he leans towards you. You shudder, his breath fanning your ear as he inches towards your neck, "but after that– it's bliss."

You feel the sharp points of his teeth poke at your skin, and it makes you gasp as your head tilts to the side, making room for him to sink his fangs into your flesh. Instinctively, your hands search for something to grab; you end up reaching for his shoulders, twisting your hands in his leather jacket to ground yourself as his sharp teeth pierce into your neck.

Your legs wobble, and he forces one of his own between your thighs, uses it to keep you upright as he drinks from you. And there is pain, but it really is only for a second, just like he said it’d be– within seconds it melts away, and oh, you instantly understand.

It’s much, much more than bliss– it’s ecstasy, it’s rhapsody, it’s the greatest pleasure you’ve ever felt. Spreading from your neck to every last nerve ending in your body, every atom of your body becomes alight with euphoria as his bite sends tingles throughout you, raising goosebumps along your skin.

You cry out, an embarrassingly loud sound that you barely recognize as your own voice as one of your hands finds its way to his head. Your fingers thread into his hair, hold him to your neck as if you don't want him to ever separate from you– and to be fair, maybe you don't.

It feels so good, so exhilarating, intoxicating, that you almost don't want the sensation to ever end. Jeongin meanwhile lets out delighted hums, eventually slowly retracting his fangs to latch his lips around the sensitive, bruising skin, his tongue lapping away at the blood that pours from the two little marks left behind.

The beating of your heart quickens, breaths quickly growing labored as the inexplicable want continues to seep into your veins. Your thighs tremble as tension builds deep in your gut, and they try to press together to seek relief, but Jeongin's leg stays firmly nestled between yours, preventing it.

And were you not so utterly blissed out, maybe the incessant, desperate throbbing of your pussy would make you feel ashamed– but all you can think about is the deep seated desire overtaking every receptor, every tiny cell, every molecule within you, as if the very chemistry that makes up your being has been altered for Jeongin alone.

Unable to resist, you rut against his thigh, entirely shameless and feverish– because it's all you have access to, all you can do to relieve the growing ache between your legs. It’s sinful, your growing lust is– and the last place you should ever be doing this is inside of a church; but you’re too far gone to care, too gripped by the need for stimulation.

Jeongin lets go of your arms, reaches between your bodies to hike up your church gown, giving you easier access to his lean, muscular thigh. He’s gracious, tugs your soaked panties to the side so your clit can catch on the denim of his jeans– and the delicious friction makes you moan for him, loud and sweet. 

He pulls away from your neck to watch your desperate humping, eyes gleaming with mischievous satisfaction as he watches you pleasure yourself on his thigh. His eyes are perfectly adapted to seeing in the low light, and so he can easily see every little detail of you– from the mess your pussy leaves behind on his jeans, to the sweat beginning to drip down your temple, to the trembling of your bottom lip before you tuck it between your teeth. 

And when he smiles at you now, it’s like the fox that got the rabbit; even in the extremely dim candle light you can see the way your blood coats his lips, messily dripping from the corners of his mouth and down his chin. His dark eyes are gleaming– because he has you ensnared, and you both know there’s no going back. 

You untangle your fingers from his hair, and you watch as he reaches for your falling hand, grabbing your wrist and bringing it to his mouth. He holds your gaze as he kisses over the pulsing vein, and it makes your breath hitch, the blood on his mouth smearing over the surface of your skin, staining it crimson. 

“Should I bite you here too?” he asks, placing another kiss over your vein before he shoots you a grin full of fang, “you’re so delicious– I want to taste you even more.” You gasp and squirm as Jeongin presses the tips of his bared fangs against your skin– not quite biting just yet, but it’s enough to spread another wave of tingles over your body. 

“Yes, bite me, please!” you cry, voice almost frantic in its urgency– and you can see the corners of Jeongin’s lips twisting into a devious smile before he’s obliging, burying his fangs deep into your wrist within an instant. You wince, your fingers clenching as he squeezes your wrist in his hand, keeping it tightly pressed to his mouth. 

And just as before, within seconds the sharp sting dulls and ebbs into incomparable pleasure, goosebumps spreading over every inch of your heated skin. Faintly, you can see your blood dribble past his lips, slowly flowing down the length of your forearm before it drips to the floor of the booth. 

You can just barely see his tongue licking over his bite, doing his best to collect all the blood that spills from you, and it's mesmerizing– especially when he brings his fingers to your arm to swipe up what his tongue misses. Your stomach flutters as you watch him separate from your wrist and bring his bloodied fingers to his mouth; they're so long, so pretty and enticing– you want them.

Jeongin can see it in your eyes– how brazenly you stare at his fingers, how your eyes follow every move he makes with them. You're still panting, sweating, chest heaving from the exertion, but the rutting of your hips has faltered; and he grins as he gazes at you. You're once again left with the feeling that he sees through you– that all it takes is a glance for him to know everything you're thinking.

"You want them? Want me to stuff your cunt full with my fingers? Make you cum all over them?" he asks, entirely rhetorical; he already knows the answer. And he likes the way you writhe over the question, how you gasp over the sinful words he so freely spills in such a sacred place, your ears positively burning.

Even if your face didn't obviously show your desires, you don't think you'd be able to deny them; you've never wanted anything as badly as you want this, want him. It should make your gut twist with shame, because deep down you know this is wrong, know that you shouldn't want him to touch you as badly as you do– but the craving for Jeongin to bring you pleasure is almost primal, so deep and innate that your rational mind can't even hope to fight against it.

Slowly, almost playfully, he trails his fingertips over your thigh, and the anticipation is enough to make you unconsciously hold your breath. "You're so fucking messy," Jeongin says as he brushes his fingers over your soaking, sensitive clit, "so wet– you're a dirty girl, huh?"

You want to whine, want to shake your head and vehemently deny that you're dirty, attest to being a good, honest, and God fearing– but you're so overcome with your desire for him to touch you, that you don't. Instead you agree, concede that you are dirty, and messy, and that you want him more explicitly than you feel your own words could ever attest.

How easily you agree to being dirty seems to please him– and with a light chuckle, he slips his hand further down while carefully removing his leg from between your thighs. You wobble a bit when the support of his leg is gone, but he's quick to wrap an arm around you to hold you, effortlessly keeping you upright with the strength innate to who, or rather what, he is.

The cool, silver band that he wears on his pinky makes you jolt when it touches your feverishly hot thigh, and he chuckles again as he spreads your folds with his fingers. You're dripping for him, so slick with arousal that it hardly takes any effort at all for Jeongin's fingers to become coated with your juices.

You rock your hips against his hand, wordlessly begging him to give you what it is you crave most. "Oh look at you, so impatient, so desperate," he laughs as he presses the pads of his fingers to your hole, delighting in the way you look at him with glassy eyes and pinched brows.

It's obscene how badly you want him; you've never felt this needy, never been rendered so desperate for stimulation– and you're in a confessional of all places. This is the very last place on earth you should feel this way, or be doing something like this, and yet the shame you should feel is far from your mind– because all you can think about is your need for his beautiful fingers to fill you up and dull the throbbing ache between your legs.

Jeongin coos when you start to beg for his fingers, a rambling string of "please," and "want it, want you," and "need it so bad." You can tell how much satisfaction it gives him, and if your mind weren't so hazy from desire you'd certainly feel embarrassment build and twist from deep in your gut– but any such feelings are silenced by your body's need for his touch, by your craving for the sensations that only he can grant you.

It takes your breath away when he easily sinks two fingers inside you, thrusting them in and out slowly until he curls and bends them to find the spot that makes you see stars. "That's it, there you go," he grins when he finds it. He watches your eyes roll back, your hands clutching at his jacket as he continues to press the tips of his fingers into your most sensitive spot.

He returns to your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin and nipping it with sharp teeth before he kisses and licks over the bruises he leaves behind. He applies pressure to your swollen clit with his thumb while relentlessly targeting your spot, an easy task for him thanks to the length of his fingers, and his hold on you tightens when the shaking in your legs grows more intense.

You're so, so close, and Jeongin can tell too– not just from how your pussy pulses and squeezes around his fingers, but because he can hear the loud, erratic thumping of your heart, as well as the rush of blood pulsing in your veins. "C'mon, let go– cum, you can do it, cum for me," he urges, speaking softly against the shell of your ear while swirling his thumb over your clit.

"There you go, good girl, just like that," he praises as you string out a loud succession of whimpers, your thighs closing tight around his hand as your high finally takes you. Your world feels like it’s spinning, your heartbeat ringing in your ears as you ride out your high, your release gushing messily around his fingers.

His hand stays in place until your thighs untense, and he’s careful as he slips his fingers out of you, though you can’t help but shiver and whine from the sensitivity regardless. You're unsteady on your feet following your orgasm, but Jeongin makes sure you don't fall over; he keeps his grip on your firm, carefully helps you turn away from where you were pressed against the carved window to sit in the booth's only seat.

He wipes the sweat from your forehead after you sit, leans down to fix and smooth over the skirt of your church gown as you try your best to collect your breath and calm your racing heart. He's reverted back to his kindly priest persona it seems– you can tell by the warm smile he offers when you look at him, his sharp fangs fully retracted.

Still, bits of your blood remain smeared over his lips– clear evidence that he isn't the saintly man he portrays himself to be. You watch breathlessly as Jeongin licks the last of it from his lips before he pulls back the curtain of the confessional booth.

He offers you his hand after it seems like you've recovered enough to stand again; your own hand trembles as you accept it, and with his assistance, you rise carefully from your seat.

You're a bit dizzy when you stand, equal parts consequence of blood loss and the euphoria still lingering and tingling in your veins, but you're otherwise steady; and he smiles as he squeezes your hand in his, the other coming to rest on the small of your back as you take your first step out of the booth.

"Come back to confession again sometime," Jeongin says with his characteristically deceitful, charming smile, knowing full well that you will. Humans always find the sensation of his venom irresistible, always become addicted to it once they've felt it– and you'll be no different. "I'll be waiting for you."

[whisperofwonder]

Happily Ever After

Kita Shinsuke x f!reader - 1.1k words

Unbelievably sappy, I'm sorry to say

You lean against the door frame, soaking in every part of this moment. This just might be your favorite time of day. Your husband is sitting on the edge of your oldest daughter's bed, both of your daughters snuggled in under the covers as he reads their nightly bedtime story. His voice is so soothing, it's almost lulling you to sleep. They love the different voices he does, and their giggles always bring a smile to your face.

No matter how long his day has been, no matter how hot it's been outside or how early he'd gotten up that morning, Shinsuke always makes time at the end of the day to read your daughters their bedtime story. As in everything else he does, he's unerringly consistent. You just know that this is something they'll always remember, no matter how old they are.

"And so, they all lived happily ever after." He finishes the story, and slowly closes the book. They're already drowsing, and you join him to press a kiss to your oldest daughter's forehead as he scoops the youngest into his arms.

"Goodnight," He leans in to kiss her after you're finished with your own goodnights. "I love you. Sweet dreams."

"Love you too, Papa," She murmurs. Your heart swells with emotion - you think it always will, no matter how many times you witness this.

"Okay, now it's time to get you to bed," He whispers to the one in his arms, already drowsing with her head against his shoulder. It isn't long before she's tucked in as well, and you have your husband all to yourself. With teeth brushed, you're finally both ready to crawl into bed.

"That story is one of their favorites," You comment as you snuggle up to Shinsuke, pillowing your head on his shoulder. "I don't think they'll ever get tired of listening to it."

"I don't care if they don't," He says, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I'll read it as many times as they want."

You can't help but smile. "I know you will." You fall silent for a few moments. "So where's my bedtime story?" You ask, teasing.

"Oh?" You hear the soft chuckle in his voice. "Alright then. Once upon a time, there was a rice farmer."

"Shin," You give his arm a squeeze, "I was kidding. You don't have to tell me a story."

"I want to. This one's my favorite," He insists. "Can I tell it?"

"Oh, alright," You murmur, surprised that he seems so set on it.

"Once upon a time, there was a rice farmer." He repeats. "He was happy enough. He had just taken over his farm, and it was hard work, but it was satisfying. He told himself he didn't mind going inside to an empty house each night, and eating a simple meal all by himself."

You pull your head away from his shoulder, looking at him with a slight frown. He only smiles, then continues. "Then, one day, his grandma told him she'd found just the girl for him. Now, mind you, this isn't the first time he'd heard this, so he didn't give it much thought. Still, she insisted, saying that her friend at the senior center had a great-niece who was also single. Somehow, she made it sound like it was some sort of disease, rather than a perfectly normal stage of life."

Here, you can't help but breathe out a laugh, and he joins you. "So, to keep her happy, he agreed to go on a date with this mysterious girl. He didn't truly expect much to come of it. After all, he knows that rice farming isn't the most glamorous profession, and most girls just aren't looking for that kind of life. He'd accepted that.

"Then, the evening of the date came. At the very least, he expected to have a pleasant evening and a nice meal. Then, he got to the restaurant. He met this girl, and she smiled at him, and he suddenly felt like there wasn't quite enough space in his chest for his lungs." You give him a slight shove, now completely realizing where this "story" is going. He ignores you.

"As the evening went on, he started to wonder if he should expect more, or if he could. He had a wonderful time. Talking with her felt like the easiest thing in the world. He desperately wanted to spend more time with her, so he was overjoyed when she agreed to go on a second date with him. Then there was a third, and a fourth. After that, she insisted she wanted to see his farm. He wasn't so certain. It felt like a big risk, and one he wasn't sure he wanted to take. But he trusted her, and so he took her to visit.

"As he watched her looking around at the farm, his pride and joy, with a smile on her face and a sparkle in her eyes, he felt like his heart might just burst right then and there. At the end of the evening, when she stood in his kitchen and kissed him goodnight, he suddenly realized something. He realized that the farm had been missing one very important thing all along, and he had finally found it.

"And so, with this realization in mind, he was determined to keep the girl close. He continued to spend time with her, and got to know and love her even more. Finally, he knew that the time was right. His grandma seemed to know, too, because she gave him a very special ring.

"With that ring, he asked the girl to marry him. To his relief, she agreed. And so, the two of them built their very own life on that farm, and had two beautiful daughters. Their family lived there happily ever after."

Speechless, you can only look up at Shinsuke. He's looking right back at you, expression unbearably soft, as the emotions swell in your chest. "Shin," You finally manage, "I love you so much."

He cups your cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing against your skin. "I love you too," He replies, drawing you in for a tender kiss. "And I love sharing our happily ever after together. I hope you know that this life is everything I could have ever hoped for."

"You are so incredible," Is all you can say in return, leaning in to kiss him back, long and deep enough that you hope it just might tell him all that you can't quite put into words.

[mint-yooxgi]

Kinktober Day 30 - Yandere!Fallen Angel!Seonghwa + Somnophilia & Body Worship

Anonymous Said: Seonghwa from ateez. Consensual Somnophilia & Body worship. Yandere & fallen angel or guardian angel. A/n: I am SO sorry that this is late, life has just been a bit hectic lately. Again, it's Hwa, so I couldn't help myself. It's not as long as I was originally going to make it, but I like where it ends honestly. He's intense in the best ways imo, and I do really love how this turned out. I also have a yandere angel ateez series planned at some point where Hwa is an archangel, so I'm also really excited about that. It's heavily inspired by his Will To Power solo stage, so I hope you all can look forward to that at some point! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy! Warnings/Genre/Rating: 18+ MDNI - Smut, Mature, Established Relationship, Possession, Monster Features, Yandere, Blood mentioned in brief (not in a kinky way), Lots of religious metaphors, Overstimulation, Oral (fem. rec), Fingering (fem. rec), Squirting, Minor Dacryphilia (if you squint), There's a lot :) Word Count: 4,821 Kinktober 2024 Mini Masterlist

Park Seonghwa is a man of many emotions.

Well… technically he’s not a man, but there is no one in this universe that makes him feel more human than you. 

There is nothing he wouldn’t do for you. You are his one saving grace in this hellish landscape called earth, and he will do anything to protect that fact. No one is off limits. Nothing is too much. For when it comes to you, you deserve nothing but the best this world has to offer. 

His best. 

Seonghwa will always make sure of that.

The water feels cool against his skin despite the steam rising through the air. One of his hands is braced against the stone tiles of the shower wall, letting the flow of water cascade down his back and pool around the drain. Red streaks against his skin, little rivulets creating vein-like patterns across his figure as he washes away the horrific events of the evening.

You can never know. You will never know. 

Seonghwa has spent his whole life guarding those most precious to him. Now, you’re the only thing left that matters.

You. Who still sleeps soundly beneath the thick covers of his duvet as he steps out of the bathroom a short while later. Your features rest in a soft expression of pure bliss, chest rising and falling steadily. The light of the moon only serves to make your skin glow, illuminating every inch of you that he has always loved more than anything else in this godforsaken world.

A pleased smile tugs at his lips, eyes shining with nothing but adoration as he observes you through the dark. Lightly, he fluffs his damp hair with the towel held in his hand, the one wrapped around his waist hanging dangerously low. Small droplets of water cascade down his chest which he is quick to wipe away.

After all, you’re expecting him to join you, and he hates to keep you waiting.

With his lips curling upwards into that all too familiar loving smile, he takes a step towards the bed. Large, fluffy wings emerge from his back, deep red in colour. As he fluffs the feathers lightly, he lets the towel fall from his waist. The other is quick to join the growing heap on the floor, knowing you’ll more than likely scold him in the morning for tossing the damp material in the middle of the room.

Sometimes, Seonghwa swears he does these types of things on purpose just to hear you scold him. The way you shake your head in exasperation, muttering about whatever it is he’s done this time makes him all giddy inside. It means you’re paying attention to him. It means you care.

Or maybe he just enjoys making things up to you in any and every way he can.

A massage here. Breakfast in bed there. Perhaps even you allowing him to get lost in that glorious heat that rests between your legs, making you shake in uncontrollable bliss.

After all, it is one of his absolute favourite pastimes.

Seonghwa thought he knew what it meant to worship something, or someone, wholeheartedly. That is, until he met you.

All of the time in the world is still too short of an eternity to be spent with you by his side.

The stars pale in comparison to you, for you hold entire galaxies in your eyes. Your smile warms his very soul each and every time he sees that glorious expression stretch across your face. All music sounds dull whenever the melodic symphony of your laughter filters through the air. Not to mention how strong and intelligent you are. 

Kind, witty, caring… The list of your perfections continues to grow everyday, and everyday he knows you is a blessing beyond his wildest dreams. Seonghwa could spend hours lost within the confines of your mind, learning everything there is to know about you, and so much more. Each new discovery is a revelation of the highest regard, and he strives to satisfy in every way.

Every word you speak is gospel, and he is your most devout follower.

Lifting the covers gently, Seonghwa slides into bed beside you. He’s extra careful to not disturb you, not wanting to accidentally wake you at this time. Still, he cannot help but shift closer, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. The way you subconsciously turn into him, snuggling deeper into his embrace only serves to make him smile.

Even in your dreams, you always know how to find your way home. To him.

Subtly, his arms tighten around you, placing a tender kiss to the top of your head. His wings wrap around you, encasing you in a soft red cocoon and ensuring your safety. Your comfort and wellbeing are his number one priorities, and once he knows you’re settled in his embrace, he fully allows himself to relax. 

Soon, his own eyes are fluttering shut, drifting off to meet you inside of your dreams.

A few hours later, Seonghwa is blinking awake. His head now rests on top of your chest, your arms cradling him to you in your sleep. 

Despite such a short bout of rest, he feels refreshed, having slept deeper with you safely wrapped in his arms. Gladly, he melts into your embrace, breathing in your scent and letting everything you completely surround him.

The moon still rests high in the sky, a gentle breeze drifting through the slight crack in the open window. The room is quiet, nothing but the soft sounds of your mingling breaths filling the space.

Seonghwa holds you tighter. Turning his head, his lips press tenderly against your chest, just above your heart. His hair tickles your skin, and you shiver lightly from his touch.

Peeking his dark gaze upwards, Seonghwa studies your features. Your brow seems to be furrowed slightly in discomfort, and a moment later, you squirm lightly beneath him. Your nails suddenly dig into the skin of his shoulders, a soft, muffled whimper escaping your lips.

Worry tugs at his features as he reaches a hand up to soothe your brow. He’s quick to cup your cheek, thumb brushing gently over your skin as he lifts himself slightly above you. Intently, he studies your face, searching for any signs of what may be the problem.

That’s when it hits him. You must be having a nightmare.

Just as he shifts his hand to your shoulder in attempts to wake you up, you let out a sound that has him freezing above you.

His name. You moan his name.

A smug grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he realizes what’s really going on here. Pride swells in his chest at the fact that he could make you dream of him like this, knowing how often he dreams of you. What serves to make this moment ever better is when you let out another small whimper, tightening your hands on his shoulders as your hips jerk upwards against his own.

“Pretty Girl,” His low voice purrs out. “What could you possibly be dreaming of, hmm?”

Cocking his head to the side, he stares down at you. His chest is pressed flush against your own, forearms supporting him on either side of you as he settles more comfortably between your legs.

Leaning into you, he begins to place soft kisses against your cheek. Slowly, he trails his lips down your jawline, tracing over your pulse, then back up again. All the while, that same smirk tugs at his features.

His nose nudges tenderly against your jaw.

“Why live in a fantasy when I can make all of your dreams a reality?”

More kisses are placed upon the skin of your neck as he slowly begins to make his way down your body. His touch is feather light, wings twitching excitedly in the air behind him as he tugs your shirt down gently. The straps of your tank top easily slide down your arms, and with a quick movement, he’s snapping them as if they were nothing but brittle string.

The sound of tearing fabric echoes around the room as he shreds through your shirt, pausing lightly to check on you. He forgot how loud that could be, his mind having been focussed on exposing you to the most pleasure that he can give you. Of course, that meant exposing you, but he doesn’t want to wake you from your blissful slumber quite yet.

Not even his chest rises or falls with breath as he hovers above you, watching you closely for any signs of movement. After a little while passes with your eyes still shut, steady breathing and soft whimpers still falling from you, he breathes a sigh of relief.

Slowly, carefully, he discards your shirt, hands beginning to trace over your sides. His touch is gentle, eyes taking in every bare inch of skin presented to him. Nothing but admiration shines in his gaze, a dark, primal sort of lust hiding within. He’s hoping beyond anything to have you smoothly transition from your dream into reality. For when you do, he’ll be ready and waiting with open arms.

There is nothing more rewarding to him than your pleasure. The fact that he alone is the only one able to bring you to such ecstasy makes his heart swell with so much love and pride within his chest. Only he can touch you like this. Only he lives to serve you, to make you see the far reaches of the heavens each time your eyes flutter shut in bliss. Your pleasure is his pleasure, and he could spend eternity worshipping you, all while making you scream his name.

Ever so gently, he presses his face against your chest, right in the valley of your breasts. His hands come up to cup such tender flesh, inhaling deeply as he nuzzles against you. Again, his lips press a tender kiss directly over your heart, wings fluttering in content as his thumbs tease over your nipples.

Fingers trace languidly against your skin, needing to feel every inch of you beneath his touch. Slowly, Seonghwa begins trailing feather light kisses down your body, heart fluttering in anticipation. Every second that passes, your scent becomes stronger, your thighs subconsciously squeezing around his sides. He knows you need him just as desperately as he needs you, and he does not want to waste any more time than he already has.

Reaching the hemline of your sleep shorts, Seonghwa dips the tips of his fingers beneath the band. A tender kiss is placed onto the skin of your stomach, nose nudging against you affectionately. The corner of his lips quirks upwards as he slowly begins tugging your shorts down your thighs, being extra cautious not to wake you.

Of course, Seonghwa cannot help himself. How can he when he has the most perfect being laid out before him? Temptation wins out as he presses loving kisses against your thighs with each inch revealed to him. Once he fully removes your shorts, he nearly lets out a low moan when the sight of your bare pussy, needy and already shimmering with your arousal, is presented to him.

Tossing your shorts somewhere in the room, Seonghwa is quick to run his hands up the length of your legs. His fingers ghost against your skin, breathing deepening as your scent completely immerses him in everything you. Once he reaches the tops of your thighs, his thumbs begin to softly brush against the sensitive flesh. The way you shiver beneath his touch, even while still asleep, makes him smile.

Again, he leans into you, pressing delicate kisses against the skin of your thighs. His teeth graze your flesh, teasing at you as he continues to brush his thumbs over you.

Every little sound you make, every twitch and shudder of your body, has his cock absolutely throbbing against the mattress. A carnal ache resides within him. A desperation only you can satiate. Yet, when it comes to you, he always wants more.

Finally, unable to wait even a moment longer, Seonghwa presses his face against your cunt. He noses along your slit, inhaling deeply as his whole body shudders from your scent. Teasingly, his tongue flicks out to taste you, and even the briefest touch of your arousal on his lips has him moaning shamelessly against your core.

Something within himself snaps. 

With his whole body shaking in need, Seonghwa buries himself deep in your cunt. Desperate, guttural moans escape him as he drags his tongue through your folds, eagerly suckling at the sweet nectar that flows from between your legs. His lips place a few chaste kisses against your clit before he’s wrapping them around such a sensitive little bud, suckling at you eagerly.

His eyes nearly roll to the back of his head, tongue flattening against your clit before rolling in circles. His hot breath hits your cunt with every exhale, wings fluttering above him as he groans lowly. Desperately, his hands tighten over your waist, pulling you even closer into his touch.

A pleased rumble shakes his chest once he feels your fingers tangle in his hair. The way you hold him to your cunt, tugging him in closer has him redoubling his efforts over you.

Heavy breathing permeates the room, your hips beginning to grind against his face in time with his movements. Sleep still clings to the corners of your vision, eyes barely cracked open to peer at him through the darkness. Each flick of his tongue over your clit has pleasant jolts of pure ecstasy coursing through your veins, already feeling so close to the edge as that familiar pressure builds within.

His movements are desperate, shaking his head back and forth while sucking your clit between his lips. Sharp, hooded eyes glint up at you through the shadows, his hips beginning to grind against the mattress as his fingers dig into your skin.

Again, he tugs you in impossibly closer, tongue slipping down to dip between your folds. Swirling the muscle around your entrance, he hums, pressing himself firmer into your cunt. His nose grinds against your clit, tongue buried as deep as possible within you as he licks and sucks almost uncontrollably.

The sound of your moans create a beautiful symphony around him, urging him on. He can tell you’re close. The way your thighs begin to shake around his head makes his cock twitch. His hips grind harder against the mattress, silently begging for you to fall apart with him as he brings you to ecstasy.

Wrapping his lips around your clit once more, it’s like you answer his every prayer.

Back arching from the bed, you come with a loud cry of his name. Your thighs squeeze around his head, holding him in place as he flattens his tongue against you, letting you ride out your orgasm as you grind your hips against him. Whimpers and moans echo alongside blissful sighs of his name, your heart racing as pleasure floods your veins.

The moment he feels you flooding his tongue, his eyes roll into the back of his head. With your thighs closing around his head, his pleased cries get muffled against your cunt as he comes with you. Hot spurts of his come soak into the sheets beneath his hips, fingers digging harshly into your skin. His wings flare out behind him, shuddering along with his whole body as he keeps himself buried against you.

Slowly, you begin to catch your breath.

Bringing your one hand up, you rub at your face. Blinking a few times to clear your vision, you spare a glance at the seraphim between your legs.

Dark eyes already stare up at you lovingly, a soft chuckle shaking his chest. His fingers smooth over your skin, leaning in once more to place a tender kiss against your clit.

“Good morning, My Beloved.” At the way you simply groan in response, a knowing smile begins to tug at his lips. “Good dream?”

“Mmmh, the best…” Humming, you rub lightly at your eyes. A moment later, you pause in your movements, brow furrowing slightly as you take in just how dark the room still is. “What time is it?”

Seonghwa, who has begun placing tender kisses along the skin of your thighs once more, smiles up at you from between your legs. “Not yet dawn.”

You stretch lightly, brushing a hand over your forehead as you take a deep breath in. “What time did you get in last night? I didn’t hear you come home.”

That single, simple word makes him smile, heart warming inside of his chest.

“Not that long ago.” He noses along your thigh, drifting closer and closer to your core with each movement. “I’m glad my return didn’t wake you. Though, it was a treat seeing you wearing those Tweety Bird pyjama shorts I got you.”

Your face flares with heat, averting your gaze to the side.

“They’re comfy.” You mumble, the cutest of pouts tugging at your lips.

Seonghwa chuckles, a soft expression resting on his features as he admires every inch of you before him. The way your fingers lightly begin to play with some strands of his hair has him leaning into your touch.

A pleased rumble shakes his chest, hands caressing over the sides of your thighs and up your hips. Lightly, his gaze flicks downwards, shifting between staring into your eyes before glancing hungrily at your dripping cunt.

“Beloved…”

The desperate moan Seonghwa lets out goes straight to your core, causing you to clench around nothing. A movement of which he eagerly catches.

“Yes, Seonghwa?”

A shiver caresses his spine as you coo his name so tenderly.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“More.” His voice trembles in need as his fingers dig into the skin of your hips. He pulls your closer, chest beginning to rise and fall dramatically as he stares, transfixed, at your weeping cunt. “Give me more.”

“Greedy little angel…” You chuckle, tracing your fingers over the side of his cheek. “Don’t you know that gluttony is a sin?”

“But I made a mess, Beloved.” Wide eyes peer up at you, a dark lust swirling behind the guise of innocence. “A beautiful, intoxicating mess. It’s only right that I clean you up.”

“You can’t fool me, Angel.” The corner of your lips quirk upwards in amusement, eyes shining as you peer down at him. “I know you only want to clean me up just so you can make a mess out of me again.”

A pout tugs at his features, eyebrows drooping dramatically. “But I love making a mess out of you.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, then.” You smile, gently brushing some hair out of his eyes. “I love it, too.”

Seonghwa does not need to be told twice.

Without wasting another second, his tongue is back on you. This time, his movements are a lot slower. More precise. No drop is to go to waste. He wants to take his time, letting you feel every ounce of his love and passion for you. He wants you to know just how much he desires you, and just how much he enjoys this.

Pleased hums escape him as he drags his tongue through your folds, laving his mouth over your entire pussy. Dark eyes lock onto your own as he suckles and licks at your cunt, wings fluttering lightly in the air. His hands creep up your sides, touch trailing against your skin as he shifts to cup your breasts. He pinches at your nipples, rolling the pert buds between his fingers before tugging at them gently.

A low moan parts your lips, arching into his touch. Almost immediately, your hands come up to cover his own, pressing them firmer against your breasts. The content rumble that shakes his chest goes straight to your core, clenching around his tongue as he buries the muscle into your tight cunt.

Curling his tongue, his nose brushes tenderly against your clit. He pinches at your nipples once more, squeezing the flesh of your breasts appreciatively. As your hips begin to grind against him, he smirks. Humming contently, Seonghwa shifts to wrap his lips back around that sensitive little bundle of nerves, suckling lightly before flicking his tongue against you.

Soft moans and whimpers slip passed your lips, fingers returning to his hair to pull him in closer. Your whole body feels as if it’s floating, completely relaxing beneath his touch as pleasure courses through your veins. 

Everything about him is sinful. From the way his dark eyes shine beneath the light of the moon, captivating you in their loving, lustful pools. To the way his hands trace over your skin, burning multiple paths of desire, comfort, safety, and fulfillment all at the same time. You cannot count the amount of times he’s lost himself in you using just his tongue, and you know that tonight is no exception.

Your heart swells with nothing but love as he reaches out for your free hand. Almost instantly, he’s intertwining your fingers with his, squeezing gently. 

He’s right here, and he always will be.

Using his opposite hand, he parts your folds with two fingers. His tongue licks a long strip up your cunt before flattening over your clit. Now that he’s opened you completely to him, there is nothing in the way for him to be able to give you the most pleasure that he can.

A deep groan reverberates against you, hot breaths hitting your cunt with every exhale.

“Best fucking pussy I’ve ever had the pleasure to worship.” A tender kiss is placed upon your clit. “Perfect, delectable little cunt… Only one I’ll ever want. Only one I’ll ever need.”

Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head, thighs shaking from his words. Your fingers tighten in his hair, squeezing his hand in your own as you whimper his name.

“That’s it, Beloved,” He coos, bumping his nose against your clit affectionately. “Say my name. Scream my name to the heavens and tell them who your eternal servant is. Tell them who it always will be. In this life, and the next. For all eternity.”

Your whole body begins to tremble as he wraps his lips around your clit, gently suckling on that sensitive little bundle of nerves. He purposely keeps you suspended in bliss, teetering right on the edge as he watches your whole being flood with ecstasy.

Pride fills his chest at how you whimper and whine for him, your hips desperately rolling against his tongue as he teases at your cunt.

“Tell me, Beloved,” A harsh suck is given to your clit, his eyes flashing as he locks gazes with you. “Who does such a delectable pussy belong to?”

All that you can manage is a desperate moan, chest heaving as that building pressure becomes almost unbearable within you. You can feel your clit practically pulsating, beginning to clench rhythmically around nothing.

“Who’s pretty pussy am I allowed to worship? To devour?”

“Seonghwa-“

“Say it.” Dark eyes flash beneath the moonlight, tone sharp as he growls lowly. “Come on, Pretty Girl. I want to hear you say it.”

Your breath hitches, nearing choking on a whine. Squeezing your eyes shut at the pleasure overwhelming your every nerve, you attempt to steady your shaking form. Taking a deep breath in, you go to speak.

However, the moment the words begin to form on your lips, Seonghwa wraps his own back around your clit, sucking harshly.

“Fuck-“ Inhaling sharply, your eyes fly open. Your voice borders on a scream as you just manage to choke out, “My pretty pussy is all yours to devour-“

Your words get caught in your throat as another loud curse escapes you, tossing your head back onto the pillows.

Seonghwa snarls against your cunt, shaking his head back and forth rapidly as he eagerly continues to suck at your clit. His hands tighten over you, pulling you impossibly closer as his wings flare out behind him.

A scream of his name tears from your throat, whole body shaking as your back arches from the bed. Your orgasm crashes into you unforgivingly, feet lifting slightly in the air from the intensity. Desperate whines and moans of his name escape you, clenching around nothing as your release floods out of you.

Only, Seonghwa doesn’t stop there.

Your cries of ecstasy only serve to spur him on as he slides the two fingers he had been using to spread your pussy open for him into your cunt. The feeling of your walls sucking him in, squeezing around his digits so delicately makes him groan. A shudder wracks his whole body, eyes closing briefly in bliss as his cock throbs against the sheets. Already he’s so close to coming again, but first, he needs to see you falling apart for him again. Because of him.

With practiced ease, he curls his fingers right up against that special spot inside of you. His tongue flicks at your clit, placing delicate kisses against that sensitive little bud before sucking harshly at it once more. The lewd, wet slurping sounds of his tongue on your cunt fill the room, only serving to make him even more feral than he already is.

High pitched moans escape you, tears of pleasure beginning to line your eyes as your whole body shakes beneath his hold. Your thighs squeeze around his head, not even deterring him in the slightest as you wither and whine. Every little touch makes your head spin, pleasure overwhelming your every sense.

You both wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Fuck- Seonghwa!” You gasp out, eyes squeezing shut as you practically curl into his touch. “Don’t stop-“ A catch in your breath as you cling to him for dear life. “Please, don’t fucking stop!”

A snarl of agreement fills the air, adding more pressure to his fingers as he massages over that special spot deep inside of you. His lips never once leave your clit, hooded gaze locked on your figure and practically demanding that you to fall apart for him right now.

With one final flick over your clit, you do.

Like lightning streaking across the sky, your orgasm crackles through your veins like a flash of electricity. Another scream of his name tears from your throat, broken and desperate as you squirt all over his face. Each movement against your cunt has you shuddering beneath his touch, vision blurring at the corners as the first of your tears of pleasure begin to slide down your cheeks.

Your hold on him is like a vice, grounding yourself to him as your chest heaves with every breath. You can feel something warm and wet splatter lightly against your thighs, Seonghwa’s deep moans beginning to harmonize alongside your own.

The way you notice his wings trembling in the air through your blissful haze causes the corners of your lips to twitch upwards. Knowing he’s just as affected as you are right now makes warmth swell inside of your chest, nothing but love flooding your very soul.

Seonghwa rests his forehead tenderly against your thigh while he catches his breath. His head swims with nothing but you, overwhelmed in the best of ways. Every ounce of his desire for you flows beneath the surface of his skin, drowning him in an undeniable ecstasy that only you can bring him. Seeing you like this - your pure and unfiltered form indulging in all that he has to offer - is unlike any other sensation he has ever felt in his entire existence.

He could never tire of this.

He could never tire of you.

Sliding his fingers from your cunt while releasing his hold on your hand, Seonghwa begins trailing kisses back up your body. Each press of his lips against you is soft, taking his time to admire every contour of your body. Every dip and curve of your glorious figure is sacred to him, and he never wants you to forget how beautiful you truly are. 

How beautiful you have always been.

Finally, his lips return to your own, giving you a deep and tender kiss which conveys his undying affections for you. Soft hums are breathed out against you, Seonghwa cupping your cheek gently in one hand while he slides his opposite arm around your waist. Pulling your chest flush against his own, he settles himself comfortably between your legs.

The feeling of his cock sliding through your wet folds, already hard and aching for you once more, makes you smile.

“My insatiable Little Sinner,” You coo, threading your fingers gently through his hair.

“When it comes to you?” His lips quirk upwards against your own, eyes shining with nothing but pure devotion as he openly admires you before him. “Always.”

[leviraaaaaa]

–Where the waves fade–

"Isn't this enough exploring? We're way too far."

"Hush," You threw your hand in an airy wave, indicating him to be quiet. "We're not that far, I can still hear Hange from here."

You continued to walk, paying no mind to the streak of grumbles and mumbled curses he let out under his breath. This was the first ever time here at the sea, and you were way too entranced by it. Not to mention, Levi is Levi and he'll complain no matter what you do so you learnt long ago to just shut up and let him sulk.

You looked sideways, where the endless blue went on, waves crashing just besides your feet. Sometimes, particularly large waves washed over your feet, the water trickling over your shoes. You could feel the sand slipping way underneath, just barely enough to make you slightly unstable. It was windy, the air making your hair fly everywhere, you could taste the saltiness.

You had separated yourself from the small chaotic group, letting yourself stray away, following where the wind goes. You walked alongside the beach, sand had slipped through your boots somehow, making it uncomfortable but you didn't really care. If you're gonna see the sea might as well experience it too.

It felt good.

Like freedom.

Though clearly, Levi did not share the same point of view.

"God knows what Hange is doing, can you for fucks sake, turn around?" He called out, glancing warily from you to the back, where you could just barely see the top of the heads of Hange and the others, conflicted on whether it was safe to leave them there on their own but also hesitant to leave you as well. His shoulders were tense, even the experience of seeing something as miraculous as the sea couldn't relax him a little.

"I didn't ask you to follow me, lev." You sighed, looking over your shoulder to meet the eyes of the man who was grumpily walking behind you. "Go back, I'll be fine."

"Yeah sure." He scowled. "I leave and then you drown."

You only rolled your eyes, not bothering to respond.

"Where the hell are you going anyways? You don't know shit around here, it's not safe."

"I dont know. I'm just walking." You halted, turning around. "Levi." You said.

"What?"

"Walk with me."

"I am."

"No, you're walking behind me, come and walk beside me." You gestured him forward. "It's okay, I won't shove you down the water."

He gave you a wary look that clearly said I don't trust you but he fastened his pace anyway, until he was beside you. He glanced down at your soggy and sand covered boots, making a repulsed expression. "You ruined your fucking shoes."

You followed his glance, looking down. "True." You smiled. Then you leaned down, hooking your fingers through the edge and took your boots off, one after the other. You threw them both somewhere behind you carelessly. Levi stared at you horrified.

"What are you doing?" He asked blankly.

"Taking my shoes off?" You mumbled, digging your heels in the sand. It felt ticklish and weird, but so soft too. "Now, there's no shoes to ruin."

"You're disgusting."

"It's just sand Levi."

"It's disgusting."

"Come on, it feels good."

"If you're trying to convince me to do the same you've gone insane.”

Safe to say, you paid no heed to him. Instead, tiptoeing over the sand carefully, you started edging towards the water. The waves crashed hard, trickling water through your toes and almost making you lose your balance but you felt glee.

“There could be like a million fucking things in there,” Levi was complaining gruffly, “We don't know shit about this place. And all of you are acting like children. Hey, are you even listeni—”

“Levi, I'm gonna run in.”

“Wh—”

But he didn't even get to finish his sentence and you were already running, squealing loudly when the wind hit you hard, the water splashing around you high with every clumsy and wild step you took and in a second you were drenched. “Oh my walls,” You let out an excited gleeful laugh, twirling in the ankle deep water. “Oh my walls.”

“Are you sure you're not gonna come in?” You yelled at him loudly, barely audible through the loud wind.

He looked down at the water, warily stepping away and casting them a suspicious glare crept closer to his boots with every wave.

He thinks. He doesn't like water. Water is unpredictable. Water is chaotic. Water is not something he can control and he doesn't like things he can't control.

But he looked at you again and all denial seemed to leave him.

The expanse of blue stretched far beyond where his eye could see. The sea was mesmerizing, timeless. But so were you.

So were you.

And for a second, Levi's head was blank.

He wasn't watching the sea anymore. All he could see was you. You, with that radiant smile of yours, in the endless blue with your hair wet and flying around everywhere, water dripping down your face. The ocean glittered, and even from here, he could see the water drops that clung to your lashes, the sheen on your lips. The flowy white blouse you wore was now completely drenched, the fabric stuck to your skin. Far in the horizon, the sun was lower, just about to set. It was sending its last few bright rays and it hit you, painting the most dazzling scene he'd ever seen.

He could hear your laughter, high and sweet, creating a beautiful harmony as the wind howled alongside, the sea roaring with every crash.

You looked unreal.

Temptations. He knew. He knew he should know better. But when had he ever known better when it came to you?

You were you and he was only just a man.

He was only a man.

Slowly, he lowered down, his fingers moving swiftly to untie the laces of his boots. He rolled up his pants and his sleeves. Then slower, even slower, he took a step.

The joy of you was beyond words. You could hardly keep your happiness contained, glowing in excitement and almost bouncing. “See?” You exclaimed happily, grinning at him. “It's not so bad right?”

When you reach out your hand, he takes it. He lets you guide him through the cold water lapping at his feet. “It's fucking freezing.” He scoffed, goosebumps rising on his skin. The sand felt weird underneath, it made him feel unstable, like something kept shifting out of his feet and he was floating.

As if on cue, a big wave crashed, kicking the balance from your feet. You'd already been swaying, unused to the constantly shifting water and the soft ground. As the water rushed past you, you almost tipped over.

“Oh fuck—” The curse escaped you as you felt your feet lose it's hold and you leaned forward. But Levi was quicker, his arms grabbing onto your waist before you fell face first, stabilizing you. You shot an apologetic grin towards him, holding on his arms to regain your balance. He did not look impressed.

“I warned you.” He said. “I'm not gonna fish you out if you fall and drown and die.”

“You just did though.”

“Keep talking and that'll change.” But his grip tightened around you.

You didn't push further. You've already pushed your luck far beyond you thought when you'd got him into the water. If you pushed further, chances were he'd drag you out of here. Nope, you'll take what you get.

The two of you stand like that for a while. The chilly water licked at your knees, rushing up to meet you as you just let the rhythm of the waves brush over you, the horizon stretching out into infinity. The salty air filled your lungs as you shared this unspoken moment—a glimpse of something bigger, a freedom so rare in your world that neither of you knew how long it would last.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” You said softly.

Is it? He wondered as he looked at you. You were watching the ocean with the widest eyes, like you'd been entranced by it.

The ocean was beautiful. In its own strange way. There was this vastness about it, endlessly stretching blue. But he could hardly be aware of what was before him when you were beside him.

You're beautiful, is what he wants to say.

It's something in your eyes, he thought. The certain spark only you've ever had. There was an entire ocean in your eyes. There was an entire universe in your eyes. He wanted to tell you he had already seen everything beautiful there was to see. He doesn't need the fucking ocean or the mountains or the stars, everything you're always being sappy about. He had the fate to look at you.

He doesn't say any of it though. He doesn't have the guts too.

Instead, he slides his fingers through yours. You look surprised, but you don't pull away. He almost stop breathing when your hold tightened.

He didn't know what you were thinking and he didn't want to know. He hoped you think it's because he doesn't want you to fall or to trip. He hoped you wouldn't feel the rush of blood in his ears that howled louder than the wind ever could. He hoped you didn't see the look on his face or hear the heart that was slamming against his chest.

He hoped that you would never find out. But he was so, so scared. So scared that if he doesn't hold on to you, you'd slip through his fingers. You'd fade. You'd disappear like every good thing he's ever had in his life.

So he held on.

[anjelicawrites]

Bringer of gifts

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Synopsis: expanding this head canon. Luke survives Storm’s End and gets captured later in the Dance, only to lose his eye to Aemond’s psychotic wife, who wants to give it to him as a gift.

Warnings: DDDNE, torture, eye enucleation, Rhaenyra’s sons are called ‘bastards’, Rhaenyra is called ‘a whore’, reader and Aemond are two psychos in love, talk of torture, talk of beheading, talk of murder, gore, kissing, p in v sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, blood licking, talk of cannibalism, talk of public sex, talk of pregnancy.

A/N: reader is AFAB but not described but for their long hair. A/N 1: since this fic is much darker than what I usually write, I'm not going to use my taglist. A/N 2: @schniiipsel you asked and I delivered, just right before Halloween!!!

You can feel the eyes of the guards burn holes as you enter the dungeons. You can imagine their thoughts and their panic because you shouldn’t be here and they can’t stop you.

“Your Highness.”

The burly man in front of you bows curtly, yet he is in your way.

“Where is he?”

You want to end your errand as quickly as possible, your stomach is already revolting against the stench of fear and pain permeating the air; you wouldn’t do this if you didn’t love your husband they way you do.

Torture is explicitly discussed and described in this fic, so is gore. Read at your own risks. Be responsible for the fiction you consume!

NSFW and 18+ only please.

You don’t expect those men to understand what is the cause behind your actions. To tell the truth, you don’t even care, you have given an order and expect it to be carried out.

“Your Highness, are you…”

You don’t even let the man finish the phrase, you stare at him with an ice cold stare that makes him stammer on his words.

“Show me the way.”

The men in front of you seem lost: should they follow your royal command? Should they politely accompany you back to your chambers?

Their commander makes the decision for them. Still looking at you with a quizzical stare he makes way and orders his men to flank you as your little group makes way through the maze that’s the dungeons of King’s Landing, your Kingsguard following suit.

You can hear the shouts of the men imprisoned, their hands emerge from between the iron bars of their prisons like a bad dream, their unwashed bodies amass themselves against them in the failed attempt to grab at you.

You don’t look at them. With your head high you march to the far end of the dungeons, where a seemingly vacant cell stands.

The guards, and the members of the Kingsguard appointed to protect you, stop and form a circle around you, effectively blocking the one, lonely prisoner, from seeing your form in the darkened corridor.

The head of the guards grabs the ring where all the keys live, the heavy metal jingle annoyingly as he selects the right one.

“He is chained to the wall, as per your request.” He tells you.

“Good. Now open the door, I will enter alone.”

“Your Highness I can’t let you do that! It’s far too dangerous!”

The man squirms under your stare.

“He poses me no threat. Do as you’re told or you will lose your head come the next dawn.”

He scrambles on his feet to obey you.

Despite the lovely way you look, and the colorful, flowery dresses you wear, it’s common knowledge in the Red Keep, that no one you should cross you or, the Gods forbid, your husband, because you will come for anyone who ever dared defying him, or yourself. You will let slide the way this man acted, because you understand this has never happened in his entire life, and he doesn’t know how to act to make you, and your husband, happy.

As the door opens on the rusty hinges, you adjust the hood hiding your face: you don’t want this very prisoner to see you immediately.

With a decisive stride you enter the cell and wait until the door closes behind you to raise your head and look at the prisoner chained to the wall.

You let the seconds fly as you look at his unkempt and disheveled state, the ruined clothes and bloody knuckles of someone who has fought hard to maintain his freedom. To have captured him was a stroke of luck from the Gods, their blessing after the death of poor Jahaerys.

The thick hood masks the smile gracing your lips when he tries to leap at you and his body falls violently against the wall, trapped by the too short chains; you have to give it to him, he’s a fighter. Not that it will help him, but it’s amusing to observe his struggle.

“Hello little bastard. Long time no see.”

Your words nail him on the spot where he’s standing: that is still an open wound, one that will accompany him for all of his life, however short it will be.

“You!”

Your smile widens when Luke’s eyes focus on your face.

He had only see you briefly during Viserys’s last dinner, when he had the gall to disrespect your husband once again, after having taken his eye all those years ago.

“Me, little bastard. I didn’t expect to meet you again. I thought your whore mother would keep her little bastard ducklings close to her chest. I suppose her desire for a throne that doesn’t belong to her is stronger than her feelings.”

“Don’t call her that!” He screams and tries to leap again with a scream of frustration when he realizes you’re too far away from him.

“I shall call her however I want. And I never lie, unlike her. Has she ever told you and your siblings who your father was? Or is she still lying to you all?”

You step closer to him, your smile darkening when you notice how his muscles strain against the sturdy chains blocking him.

“Do you know why you’re here, little bastard?”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Or what? Will you take my eye the same way you did my husband? Do you know that you’re here because of her, don’t you? If she hadn’t cared about hiding who you and your siblings are, if she had issued an apology to he own brother, you wouldn’t be here. None of it would have given Aemond back his eye, but it would have been something. Instead, she cared more about committing treason, and sending her little bastards to the slaughter, than anything else.”

You can see the fat tears of frustration fall from his eyes, the marks they leave on his dirty cheeks.

“She loves us! She didn’t send us to the slaughter!”

“If you say so. Then why are you here?”

He struggles against his bindings again. You can see how desperate he is to make you eat your words, a part of you respecting how loyal he is to his mother; if only he hadn’t laughed at your husband when the pig had been served, if only he had said he was sorry. Instead he had smirked at Aemond, positive the consequences of his actions would never catch up with him; truly, he marked his destiny that night, and he didn’t even know.

“Do you know why you’re here? Why you’re not be kept in the Red Keep like the royalty you pretend to be?”

You see the answer die on his lips when you unsheathe the small dagger you hide in the arm of your dress, the one Aemond gifted you for your nameday, right after your marriage.

“Because you ran from consequences all your life, Luke, and now there’s nowhere to go anymore.”

The desperate sound of his struggles is covered by the heavy footsteps of the Kingsguard entering the cell. Your Aemond has personally chosen those men, picking the ones who will do your bidding without a second thought, who will kill, and die, for you.

Differently from the guards, they didn’t bat an eye when you told them to follow you to the dungeons and instructed them to keep the prisoner still as soon as you unsheathed your dagger.

There must be some blood of the dragon flowing through the little bastard’s veins, because four grown men are struggling with keeping him on his keens, on the filthy floor, and the fifth has almost lost a finger to his teeth when he had grabbed his chin, to make sure his head stood tall and easy to reach for you.

You have to give him that: the child is a fighter, it was sheer misfortune that his dragon had been hit, and that he had lost consciousness as soon as they both touched the ground; he would have made such a great Driftmark Lord, if only his mother had stayed in her place.

“What are you going to do?”

You can see his fear when you kneel in front of him and grab his hair.

Aemond told you it had been a matter of moments: one second he was standing over his nephews, the one after, he was on the ground, the pain on his left side blinding to the point he had feared he had lost both eyes.

What took long had been the Maesters in their desperate attempt to save his eye, only to have to scoop it out and crudely sew the cut and eyelid shut.

What hurt the most, he told you, was seeing how his own father, his own flesh and blood, didn’t punish Luke for his actions instead he had protected him and berated Aegon for a word he never said out loud.

It falls upon you, really, to try and balance the injustice the late king caused; the old man is dead and rotten, yet the fruits of his injustice are damaging you all and someone has to put a stop to it.

“Know that, even though it brings me immense joy, your mother and your grandsire could have prevented all of this. And your stepfather shouldn’t have come for Jahaerys, or any of us for the matter.”

Luke tries to squirm away from the hold of your Kingsguard. Desperately he fights the vice of your hand in his thick locks when the bite of your dagger strikes the soft skin of his cheeks.

His screams of pain are deafening in the little cell when the sharp blade starts cutting, blood spills all over your hand and explodes on your face and clothes when you arrive to the eyeball, carving it out carefully, making sure it will not burst, thus ruining your gift for your husband.

By the time you’re done with him, he’s barely alert on the dirty floor, the rich, red blood still flowing from his wounds, wetting his face.

“Call the Maesters.” You bark. “They need to make sure the bastard survives to savor the pain my husband had to live with throughout his life!”

One of the men of your Kingsguard offers you the silver plate you ordered him to carry and you gently lay the bloody eyeball on it, making sure it sits nicely on the shiny metal.

“You better hope your mother stops her folly, little bastard, or worse will come to you and your siblings.”

With that you hide yourself under your cloak again, making sure no one is capable of seeing your gift for Aemond: you don’t want his surprise to be spoiled!

You walk the hidden corridors with your protectors; after the brutal slaying of Jahaerys the number of guards had been doubled and with the King fighting for his life after the battle of Rook’s Rest, the whole Red Keep is on high alert, thus making your desire to not been seen by anyone difficult, but not impossible.

You stand in front of the chambers you share with Aemond, your men in a circle around you, so that no one can see you as you silently open the big, wooden door.

Aemond is sitting at the huge desk, the fire roaring in the heart and the candles illuminate the parchments he’s reading intently.

He’s prince regent now and feels the weight of the title after not being able to keep Aegon safe from Meleys’s flames; as much as their relationship has always been complicated, you know that his loyalty to his family overrides any of Aegon’s slights.

He raises his head as soon as the door starts opening; you can see how tired he is, the lines of worry etched on his young face; he should be sleeping, or simply relaxing as the burning logs creak and break, he can’t, not when he knows he now shoulders the responsibility to keep you all safe.

“Ābrazȳrys. Wife.” He smiles, lifting his free hand to invite you to sit by him. “How was your day?”

You walk slowly, careful not to reveal your gift too soon; only when you’re standing next to him, you speak.

“Productive, albeit messy.”

Before he can inquire any further, you let the cloak fall to the floor, revealing your bloodstained dress and face. For a brief second the purest expression of worry marks his handsome face, the fear of you being attacked blinds him to your gift. Swiftly he’s on his feet, his hands going to your face, as if to check the damage.

“None of it is mine, my love. I wanted to bring you a token of my love and I had to get my hands dirty.”

Only now he focuses on the ornate silver plate you’re still holding in your hands, and the eyeball sitting there, caked in blood with the nerves still attached like a grotesque veil.

“Is it?”

“Yes, it is.”

Aemond’s hands are trembling as he takes the plate from you and sits it on the table, on top of the parchments.

He stands still in front of you, his face an unreadable mask that breaks as soon as he grabs your flowery dress to pull you against him and kiss you, hungry and savage, all teeth and tongue as he backs you towards your shared bed, drunk on the dries taste of blood mixed with yours.

You stumble on the large gown as you blindly let him move you, your hands grabbing at him, your fingers on the small clasps and knots binding his clothes together as he tears through your bloody dress, until you’re both naked, falling on the bed, still kissing passionately.

You surface for air, your mane of hair loose on your shoulders, Aemond under you, naked and hard, the thick cords of his muscles marked by the welts sword training left on him today, his breathe coming out in harsh puffs as he stares at you as if you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen in his entire life.

You put your hands on the strong planes of his chest to find your balance, before you, slowly, start rubbing you wet core against his erection, moaning at the thickness against your swollen pearl.

“I wish you were there with me, my husband.” You pant. “I was so ready for you, his cries of pain were the best music, the fear on his face made me throb. You would have taken me in the cell, wouldn’t you? Amidst the prisoners and in front of the little bastard, showing him what he will never have.”

“Kessa! Kessa! Yes! Yes!” His hands find the meat of your hips to move you faster on his throbbing cock, your wetness against it driving him insane with lust. “Emagon nyke sir! Have me now!”

He groans under you when you keep rubbing yourself, your hands pinning him on the plush mattress, your breasts swinging in front of his face, so teasingly close to his starving mouth.

“What would have you done afterwards? When all those men knew how I sing for you.”

“Nyke would emagon taken pōja laesi hen zirȳ! gūrogon pōja ears! nyetodha pōja irosh! mērī kostan raqagon ao! I would have taken their eyes from them! Take their ears! Slit their throat! Only I can enjoy you!” He roars, deafening like a dragon.

“What about the guards? My protectors?”

“Mirre morghe. Ao sagon ñuhon! All dead. You're mine!”

The purple of his eye has turned into a bottomless pit of madness mirroring yours, the bite of his hands leaving proofs of his love for you as your nails do on his fair skin.

“I love you, Aemond.”

Your moans of pleasure reverberate against the walls, as you sink on his erection, his girth still taking the breathe away from you as his hips push inside your wet walls, until he has bottomed out, your cunt having enveloped him fully.

“You’re made for me, Aemond and I am made for you. You’re filling me perfectly.” You moan, egging him on. “I’m so full.”

With a whine you sit on him, admiring the strong planes of his body and the way his thick muscles strain against the need to push upwards and fuck you.

Slowly you start moving, gentle figures of eight that rub your pear against the coarse hair at the base of his cock, the motion makes you moan with every shockwave of pleasure; his hands on your hips help you move, guiding you to take whatever you want from him.

When you start to carefully move up and down, your hands fly to your full breasts to play with your nipples, pinching the engorged nubs the way he likes, your cunt leaving and swallowing more and more of him, until you’re riding him at a mad pace.

“I’ve never been wetter.” You moan. “I want to cut him piece by piece as you fuck me Aemond.”

Under you he babbles praises and promises, waxing poetic on the way your cunt is strangling his cock and is pulling him in; you’re drenched and hot, your combined moans deafening the squelching sounds of your combines honeys forming a ring around his base.

“There! Aemond, there!”

You scream, when his cock head finds your hidden spot, the one that makes your knees tremble and your rhythm falter, your cunt tightening around him to the point of pain, when his thumb finds your pearl to play with it fast, throwing you into the throes of your orgasm.

He follows with a howl, his stones drawn so tightly against his body as you milk him, hungry for his seed that seeps down his length as you keep riding him, until you fall sideways, spent.

You’re both spent as you two try to regain your breath, trembling in each other’s arms.

“I haven’t thanked you properly.” He says with a smile.

“I think you did.” You let a heartbeat pass between your two. “Did you truly like my gift?”

His hand is proprietary on your hip when he pulls you impossibly closer to his sweaty body.

“You did what no one ever would. I will cherish your offering for as long as I live.”

You snuggle closer, feeling his spent cock try to harden again; you know he will soon be ready, he can’t resist the spell of your body.

“Would you truly fuck me as I cut him into pieces to send to his whore mother?”

“I would do anything you ask. I can have him bought here for you to play with, if that would make you happy.”

“I don’t want him soiling our rooms. I want him to rot in the cell, where he belongs.”

“Then, I would fuck him against the bars after you’re done with him and choose together which part of him to send her.”

You let your index play with the sparse, platinum hair on his chest.

“I was thinking that we could send her another part of him as a warning: either she stops her madness, or she’ll have her son back piece by piece.”

Aemond looks at you with naked adoration.

“He’s always been her favorite.” He says, his fingers finding the mess of come between your legs and your hole ready for him. “She will bend the knee, and accept our conditions.”

You moan when his fingers breach you again and start fucking you almost lazily.

“They will all have to die.” You whimper, feeling the delicious flames of desire burn anew.

“I will personally behead Daemon.” He smiles. “What do you want to do with the bastards?”

You’re gasping against his lips, your hips following the slow, tantalizing rhythm he’s forcing you to follow.

“Can I play with them? See how long they’ll last?”

“You’ll make sure they will suffer for days. I promise you that you’ll come back to our chambers covered in blood and with my seed leaking down your legs.”

You whimper when his fingers find your spot again to massage it with intent, your muscles clamping again as your end comes barreling down.

“I will bathe you, afterwards. Make sure their stink doesn’t attach itself to you. Then, if you’ll let me, I will make love to you again, fill you with my seed.”

Your fingers are like claws, scorching the path of your need down his wide back as the band of pleasure tightens in your belly.

“Put a baby in me, Aemond. I want them to know your line will survive and theirs will not!”

His tongue attacks the dried blood on your body again, licking the ferrous taste with abandon and hunger.

“I will put as many babies in you as you’ll let me.”

“Yes! Ah, Aemond!” You whimper. “I wanna eat his heart as his whore mother watches and weeps! I wanna kill her after she’s witnessed what her betrayal to you did to her bastards!”

His fingers fuck you fast and unforgiving, the squelching sounds of your pleasure all he can hear.

“I will build you a torture chamber, where you can play, and I can fuck you as they cry and beg for mercy.”

“Yes! Yes!”

You’re delirious now, riding his fingers and scratching his back, your voice hoarse with your screams of pleasure.

You’re putty against him, happy and sated you rub your body against his.

“Do you want to go to the dungeons and pick another piece of him? As much as I love your gift, I think it would be more affecting if we were to send her his eyeball with some of his clothing.”

“Yes! I want her to suffer. I want her haunted by the knowledge that her bastard son is in danger, until she comes begging for him. I want any hopes she has burn as she sees her bastards suffer and die.”

“And she will. The Stranger will come as a relief, still, she’ll die knowing she has lost.” His eye looks haunted now. “She wanted me to be sharply questioned, when he took my eye. She’ll witnessed what that is, on each one of them.”

He’s hard as steel against your tummy, his cock head already weeping for you; you roll on your back, spreading your legs, showing him the mess you two have created when you open your outer lips for him to witness how your hole clenches in hunger.

“Fill me again, Aemond and don’t pull out. I want to feel you inside of me as we compose our message.”

“Only if you wait for me tomorrow, and let me join you in playing with your new toy.”

“Yes.” You moan as he breaches you slowly. “And if she resists, we’ll decide together which piece to cut and send.”

He twitches inside of you at the thought: the bastard is going to end up in pieces, and his mother will learn of it all too late.

[frehyun]

Thirsty

vampire!hyunjin x gn!reader

warnings: vampire typical biting stuff

genre: fluff, a bit suggestive (??)

word count: 1,4k

author's note: i enjoy writing about supernatural beings and monsters a little too much and halloween's right around the corner so here we are. i'm too obsessed with jjam hyunjin and the MV as a whole so these pics are gonna get used a lot, I'm sure 😇 oh and, do NOT pick up random bats.

masterlist

divider by @saradika

You never expected bats to be so docile and cooperative until you found an injured one on your way home from work. The little critter was looking awfully smug in the blanket mountain you arranged for him so he could have somewhere soft to rest after you took care of him.

You had expected him to start thrashing about, maybe even bite you but after you had thoroughly proved to him that you were not a threat by softly cooing at him on the side of the street, the little guy had simply let you pick him up in your gloved hands to carry him to your home without much fuss.

You sighed, carding your fingers through your hair as you observed the bat for any signs of lingering discomfort, but you only found him fighting to stay awake, his eyes droopy and slowly closing every now and then.

It must have been one hell of a day for the little guy, getting injured by who knows what and then getting essentially kidnapped (batnapped?) by a strange person.

“It’s okay. You can sleep. I’m not gonna move you around, nothing’s gonna hurt you” – you whispered to him in his blanket cove, and it almost seemed like he let out a sigh of relief before hesitatingly closing his eyes to get some much-needed rest.

You had placed him near the windowsill, so he could overlook your entire room and not feel claustrophobic or trapped while also being able to observe whatever you were doing in your room.

What you didn’t know was that Hyunjin was observing you for entirely different reasons. You assumed the bat would feel threatened by you, while he was anything but. His little bat heart thumped faster at the prospect of you fussing over him and taking care of his injuries. While he really wanted to fully enjoy having someone watch over him like this, his brain kept reminding him of the fact that he wasn’t just a random bat, he was a vampire that needed to feed on someone sooner or later. He would rather it be sooner, knowing how weak, cranky and irritated he gets if he doesn’t get his blood fix.

That could wait, however, because for now he sank into the many blankets you provided him with and drifted off into very vivid dreams of you.

Your dreams weren’t nearly as nice to you as they were to him, an uncomfortable weight was pressing into your body. Your chest felt heavy, leaving you breathless and giving way for the rising anxiety in you to increase tenfold. Before the nightmare could take you further into its cold embrace, you jolted awake, your head hitting something solid that was hovering above you.

You and the unidentified object both let out a groan at the same time, your eyes snapping open at the unfamiliar voice right in front of you.

A gorgeous man was kneeling on the side of your bed, pouting while rubbing the spot on his forehead where the two of you collided. While he was distracted, you let your eyes involuntarily wander, taking note of how the flowy silk shirt he was wearing revealed far too much of his chest and long neck. His skin was pale but perfect and looked soft to the touch.

You blinked to rid yourself of these thoughts.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to” – he was already standing again at the side of your bed, fiddling with the ends of his sleeves, biting into his plush lower lip nervously.

“It’s just… You helped me, and I am really thirsty. My mind just kinda thought that…”

“I helped you? How? Who even are you?”

At that, something in his face lit up and a small sheepish smile appeared. He continued fiddling with his sleeves but nodded towards the small mountain of blankets that was still by your windowsill and now entirely empty.

“I’m Hyunjin. The bat. Vampire?” – he sounded unsure himself.

“Were you trying to drink from me? While I was asleep?” – your hand instinctively reached up to touch the side of your neck that he had been eyeing for a while now. In your half-asleep state you thought that maybe you would have let him if he did.

“I-…uhm, I think so? Drink from you, yes but I’d much rather you consented to it than me… descending upon you while you’re unconscious or-“

“Do it, then.”

“Huh?”

“You said you were thirsty, right? So drink.”

Hyunjin’s mouth was slightly agape as he stood there gawking at you like you just told him to perform an entire circus act, so you patted your neck for good measure. His Adam’s apple moved as he gulped and moved his lithe body back onto your bed and as he came closer, you suddenly got increasingly more unsure about your own decision. Your hands uselessly grabbed the bedsheets as your pet bat turned vampire peered down at you from his kneeling position on the side of your bed.

“Are you really sure?” – he questioned in a silent voice as his eyes flitted between your face and your clenching hands.

“You can say no, you know. I know how to take care of myself”, his hand came to rest above yours, slightly massaging it as he spoke, “you taking care of me just did something to me. Something I haven’t felt in a couple of years. I don’t really want to leave but I’d hate to hurt you even more.”

The moonlight shining through your blinds made his gentle eyes seem all the more sweet and inviting, casting a soft glow around his head.

Lost for words, you nodded at him, signaling for him to continue but he wouldn’t have it, his bottom lip jutting out in a dramatic pout.

“You have to say it, darling” – he began to reposition his body to lay beside you, stretching out his long legs and propping up his head with his hand. His free hand reached out to caress your cheek and you wondered how you were supposed to say anything comprehensible if someone so beautiful and irresistible was touching you, albeit innocently.

“You can bite me, drink from me, whatever you want” – you answered him finally even if it was a bit shaky and a smile broke through his features.

“Let’s stop at drinking, hm?”

And then he was on you, the hand on your cheek now angling your head the other way so he could reach your neck the way that he wanted. The sensation of his plush lips coming into contact with your clammy skin in a gentle kiss made you gasp. Hyunjin let out a deep chuckle before his fangs punctured your neck.

The contrast between the harshness of his fangs and the loving hold he had on you made you even more dizzy than just the general bloodloss. You found that your hands had wandered from the bedsheets to the front of his shirt, tangling themselves into the silky fabric, unsure if they wanted to pull him closer or push him away.

It felt like an eternity had passed when he finally removed himself from you slowly but not before giving a tender kiss to the wound almost as if it was an apology.

“Thank you” – he licked his lips contently before moving to get up entirely. You didn’t want him to leave, your hands stayed twisted in his shirt. He giggled and you countered with a whine.

“Don’t go, Hyunjin… please.”

The vampire hadn’t expected you to be this needy after a simple bite but who was he to refuse?

“I’m not gonna leave, sweetheart. I drank from you, so it’s only right I make sure you don’t feel like shit in the morning, don’t you think? Let me take care of you.”

Well, when he put it like that. His words soothed the gnawing anxiety at the back of your head and your grip on him loosened, your eyes droopy and your body tired.

As you slowly drifted off to sleep, Hyunjin made sure to grab everything he needed to take care of you in the morning.

He grabbed the blankets from the windowsill and curled up beside your sleeping form, already giddy at the thought that you were fonder of him than he had originally assumed and that he could spend the morning with you.

And as he watched you sleep with fondness in his eyes and his heart calling out to you, he thought that maybe it was worth it to get into a fight with a random stray cat.

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Swansea: "Could you see anything?"

You took off your space suit helmet to respond to him, your face showing dark circles and a tired grimace. 

"Nothing at all... But... mm... We are following a trajectory but I can't say which one it is, we are not returning to earth but we are also not heading to the delivery zone... I only know that the ship is taking us somewhere else... but maybe-"

You were about to collapse, but Swansea immediately caught you before you fell.

Swansea: "Okay! That's enough, how long has it been since you last slept?"

"I need to find a way to return... Then I'll be able to sleep..."

You held onto his shirt tightly, trying to stand up but your body wouldn't let you, you felt the full weight of the suit on you. 

Swansea: "How could you go out like that? Do you know what would have happened if you had fainted out there?! We were going to lose you forever!"

The man immediately made you sit down and helped you take off the suit. 

Swansea: "Look at yourself, have you been eating? You look pale."

"I have my reverses in my room..." 

You murmured as he helped you to your feet and took you to your room, he could see the pile of accumulated food.

Swansea: "You haven't been eating!"

"Maybe I forgot about that..." 

He began to worry upon seeing all the papers stuck to the walls, written and scribbled, recreating plans of the ship and attempts to return. 

Swansea: "Listen to me carefully, we all appreciate the work you are doing, but we need you to be fine! Otherwise, we won't have a captain anymore!"

You rested your head on his chest and he felt how you wrapped your arms around him, he stood still as he heard you sob, sighed, and returned the embrace. 

"I'm scared - I'm afraid I won't be able to fix this - that I won't be able to see him again - that something will happen to all of you - it's too much"

Swansea: "You don't have to handle everything on your own, we're a team. I know well that Curly was your partner, that you relied on each other, but you can count on us too." 

You slowly pulled away and ran your hand over your cheeks to dry your tears.

"I didn't know you were good at comforting."

Swansea: "Ha! My wife is expecting a girl at home, I'm prepared for these things." 

"She is going to be very lucky to have you as a father."

Swansea: "Of course," he sat down next to you and sighed, "I want you to take a break, okay?"

"...Okay," you nodded. "Can you take care of the others? Delivering their rations and all that?"

Swansea: "If you give me the code, I'll do it without any problems."

"Thank you very much, Swansea... These two months after the crash...have been... Exhausting"

Swansea: "You want to see it, don't you?"

You nodded without saying a word. 

Swansea: "I can distract Anya and you can sneak off to see him."

"No- I can't do that... I will respect his wishes and wait until he feels ready to see me... Have you seen it?"

Swansea: "Nah, the only ones who have seen him are Anya and Jimmy, it seems like he's in a delicate situation."

You lifted your legs onto the bed to hug them tightly, resting your chin on your knees. 

"I'll rest for a week, is that okay?"

Swansea: "Of course, boss" 

He patted your back before leaving.

You looked at the rings on your hands and smiled. 

"You have made me depend a lot on you... I have to learn to control myself..."

You sighed and threw yourself onto the bed to try to get some rest. 

The first few days of your break, you felt extremely anxious for not doing anything about it, but you knew you needed to stay calm. 

One night you heard some knocks on your door, you were doodling in your notebook to keep yourself distracted until you saw Jimmy walk in. 

Jimmy: "I brought you a cup of coffee." 

He mentioned leaving the cup on the nightstand next to your bed. 

"Thank you"

Jimmy: "I noticed you left Swansea in charge."

"He has more experience than the others."

Jimmy: "Shouldn't it be my responsibility? I am Curly's co-pilot."

"What's the point of a co-pilot if there's no pilot's cabin? I'm sorry Jimmy, the answer is no. Anyway, in a few days I'll be back."

Jimmy: "Why do you always have to be a bitch with me?!"

You lifted your gaze from your notebook to see him, tilting your head. 

"I never did anything to you, you were always the one who talked shit about me, but Curly always kept you in line. Now he's not here, so I'm going to keep you in your place, okay?" 

Without saying another word, he left, slamming your door hard, but that didn't scare you or make you react in any way.

Seeing the cup of coffee he brought you, you took it to throw the content in the trash. 

.

.

.

.

.

Jimmy: "You and your perfect wife, your perfect life... It seems they enjoy seeing me as if I were someone inferior."

The man was speaking while placing a pill in his hand. 

Jimmy: "Let's see how much he's going to believe after tonight." 

He brutally opened his friend's mouth, who let out a cry of pain and growls that seemed to come from a helpless animal. 

The sounds from that room were horrible, all caused by the man taking it out on his friend for having everything he wanted. 

[vidavalor]

I've had to disconnect from my dash because of all the negativity; I honestly do not get why people are acting like a semblance of justice+a movie is the worst thing in the world?

I'm mourning for the full six-episode season we lost because ng couldn't pass the utmost basic sub-zero bar for not acting like scum and of course I wish amazon had kicked him out and then sprung for it anyway (and honestly, as long as you're blaming the right person, I think it's fine to feel upset? We deserved better, the cast and crew deserved, Terry deserved better, and this one guy ruins it for everyone because the bar was buried six feet deep beneath the ground and he still managed to go lower, and that does suck, and it is miserable and unfair, so take a moment if you need it 🤷‍♀️) but let's face it, we got off lucky. Arguably, considering this was a standalone novel from the nineties, that then got made, in one of the best book adaptations I've ever seen, into a limited standalone tv miniseries (and, again, emphasising the standalone here, so even if it all goes to hell in a handbasket, we'll still always have S1 and the book; people have been ignoring the Jurassic Park sequels for nearly three decades), and then got a surprise sequel, we were pretty lucky the whole way through.

And regarding the whole what if it's bad thing, I was always going to be worried: I was anxious long before this shit went down, and I was anxious before S2 and even S1, as well. It's not like we ever had any guarantee it was going to be good beforehand either, and at this point, knowing what we do now, I'm not at all sure I'd have trusted ng to write this anyways. So while, yeah sure, I'm maybe a little more anxious now, I trust Michael and David with these characters and I trust Rob and Rhianna with Terry's legacy and story and that they wouldn't have fought so hard for this ending unless they planned to keep fighting and thought they could pull it off. Isn't the problem with this kind of thing normally that what happnes is the creator who cares deeply about the work gets pulled in favour of someone out-of-touch who cares not a jot about the story and needs to leave their own grubby fingerprints all over it? More the other way around here, no?

Anyway, what I also wanted to say was that I really appreciated your 'think of it as the final two episodes of season two' (and all your takes on this situation so far, very level-headed and optimistic, thank you). I mean, you're right, and it's hardly wildly out-there for a series to finish on a feature-length special, and although the filler material in S2 and the compression of S3 maybe means it doesn't exactly resemble what the second book would have been, it was only ever meant to be two books. (Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed S2 and was very glad to get it, even though I am a book/S1 fan and also had the most fun in that time fandom pre/post/around the time of the S1 release, but why does it exist? Ego? You can't tell me you couldn't have fit the important parts of S2 into one season with the S3 plotline.)

Basically, I'm grieving the could-have-beens (imagine if he'd been exposed way earlier and the TP estate had had control of this whole production from the very start!) and I'm a little worried that that hurt'll stick around no matter how good S3 is - which I need to fix, because that's more power over my favourite show and what it means to me that I want to give anyone, let alone someone like that - but at the end of day, I do think it definitely can be done with what we have, and I'm choosing to be hopeful it'll be done well, because, well, why wouldn't I?

(I will say this hasn't been great for my faith in humanity, because I really want to believe not all men are shit and some of them are making it very difficult right now, but that's an entirely different problem and so far believing most people are mostly good has always prevailed in the end so. y'know. we'll get there. might reread discworld, that's always good for that.)

Sorry for venting all this at you! I just kinda felt the need to write it all down once to get it off my chest... have a snack on me? I'm partial to cherry tomatoes, green melon and mandarines at the moment (I stop eating salads in winter, which means I default to eating even more fruit) but I can also offer homemade baked goodies fresh from this morning? 🥧

Hi there. 💕 You are welcome to vent away & thank you for the delicious-sounding snacks and kind words. I'm glad my posts on the movie boosted your spirits about it. I agree with and can relate to almost everything that you said here so assume that anything that I don't address just has a 'yes, absolutely' nod happening. 🙂‍↕️

The one thing I want to touch on here is S2 and this idea of it being "filler" that you mentioned that I think might not be quite accurate. I think you (and anyone else who reads this) might feel more enthused about the idea of a good ending in 90 minutes after reading this so hopefully this'll be another way that I can help?

On why S2 is really the whole story and actually had a lot more going on in every way than S1...

Ok, I'm going to explain something that drives writers like myself bonkers 😂 and that is how some readers or viewers of fictional stories mix up plot and story.

Nothing grinds our gears than reading things like "filler" and "unnecessary subplots" because, while everyone is within their rights to have an opinion on written works, 95% of the time, the person who says phrases like this isn't talking about the quality of the work but of its very existence. They're saying "why did we have to read/watch this? it didn't connect to anything" and that's where they are very, very, very... argh, just tell them, Crowley...

...thank you, dear. Right, so, why is it wrong?

Because what many people who don't write don't understand about subplots and more character-driven story arcs is that the writers sat down and decided to do that stuff for very, very specific story reasons. Readers and viewers mistake plot for story. Plot only exists in service of story and, so, all plots exist for a purpose in the story. They're all relevant. In fact, the stuff people usually label as "filler" in a story is really exactly where they should be looking to figure out what the story is saying. If you're big mad about all this time you spent with Maggie and Nina in S2, I'd say you might not still understand what S2 was about because you won't understand Aziraphale's story without understanding both Maggie and Nina's struggles in S2, for example.

A story is the whole, overall thing. It's the meanings, themes, and messages in the work. It's what's being said. It's the ideas being put forth by the piece. It's what it's about. It's different from plot, which is just the stuff the writers are making the characters do or not do in order to tell the story that they are looking to tell. Story is the art; plot is a tool used to make that art. Fiction writers can come at their story from almost anywhere to convey what it is that they are trying to say so there is meaning in the fact that they are choosing to tell their stories the way that they are telling them. They came up with these ideas for reasons.

When you dismiss stuff as filler, you're saying that it's lesser than more in-your-face and bigger plots (when, often, it's very much not), and you're telling a writer how they should have written their own story-- most of the time, without even fully seeing the ending of that story or giving any consideration to why it is that the writer wanted you to read or watch the stuff you're saying wasn't necessary. I'm not arguing that every story is perfect but you aren't getting anywhere near close to being able to evaluate a story if you're not willing to dive into what you were given and consider why it was that you were given those things and what they might mean.

Until the main question that you're asking about every single aspect of a story is "what is this saying?", you're not really fully engaging with a work. You won't get there by dismissing what the artists are telling you is important.

The secret sauce to interpreting fiction are subplots, actually. They exist to help highlight the themes of the main story, often in a slightly more direct way. If you want to understand Good Omens, starting with Ineffable Bureaucracy is actually one of the best ways to get at the core of the themes of the story. It's far from wasted time in the story.

There's actually a funny nod to the importance of subplots in 1941 when Aziraphale references Sophocles, the playwright who basically created the concept of the supporting character whose story mirrors and parallels the main character(s). The mention of Sophocles shows up in S2, the season that brings Gabriel more fully into his purpose as exactly that.

The reason why S2's plot is centered around the honestly pretty easily solvable mystery as to what's happened to Gabriel is because Gabriel, from the get-go, has been the entire story distilled down.

If you follow nothing but Ineffable Bureaucracy in Good Omens, you're going to be closer to getting what it's about and where it's going and what its end game is than you are if you are dismissing it as wasted time when we only have few episodes left. If you haven't yet seen the secret wisdom in Jim-- not to mention understand that Jim and Gabriel are the same person-- then you're probably wigging out more about the movie.

You likely think that S2 was wasted on stuff like Gabriel, or Maggie and Nina's romance, when they should have been getting to Armageddon and The Second Coming already!

You haven't yet noticed that Armageddon has more than one meaning in the series.

It's not always the literal destruction of Earth but also a person's own life crisis. We are all worlds of our own and those worlds can be put at risk if we don't let others in and take care of ourselves and those around us.

When you realize this, you can start to see that S1 goes hard with a freight train of plot all over the place that is related to Armageddon in a more Biblical, apocalyptic sense while it establishes its universe for us but that, once we know how it all works, we can get something like S2... a time where we can step back and start using Armageddon in the more figurative way that the story is also presenting it.

We need to because the story isn't about Heaven or Hell-- it's about being a person. S2 is emphasizing the deeper aspects of the themes and rolling that out at a pace more in line with a person having a few days of inner crisis. When you see that Aziraphale's crisis is the point then you can see how S1 can be about The Four Horsepeople riding to the end of the world and S2 can show War (inner conflict), Pollution (mental health issues), and Famine (symptoms of the other two; lack of food and pleasure and connection; self-starvation and self-denial) as a mental health crisis.

The point is that if you're thinking these characters need to come together to overthrow Heaven and Hell and get to the South Downs Cottage and there's no time slajdflkfwjlkejlje!?!?, then you aren't realizing that not every revolution involves guns and bombs.

People all over the world can start a love train that's far more effective. You might think a subplot about The Hellhound and The Ginger Cat learning to play nice and that they have a fuckton in common and should maybe bury the hatchet and just become eternal bffs already is filler but Crowley and Gabriel aligning is set up for the end game. It's strength in numbers and finding peace and family. They can't overthrow Heaven/Hell without help and Gabriel is the Supreme Archangel. They literally will never have a South Downs Cottage ending without a plot that helped Crowley and Aziraphale see that Gabriel and Beez are on their side.

This is the revolution in Good Omens:

It will take all the characters coming together to overthrow Heaven/Hell and set up something new for us to get a happy ending and we absolutely will. S2 is Gabriel-centric because Gabriel is the key to all of the characters getting a peaceful ending and because he's a split-directly-down-the-middle mirror of both Crowley and Aziraphale. In a season that is more about Aziraphale's inner Armageddon than about an external threat, Gabriel is vital to telling that story. The plot of S2 is every bit as important to the story as S1. I'd argue that it's even more important because takes the time to go at the themes in a slower, deeper way. It needs to because it's a story of a fall that sets up for a story in S3 of a recovery from one.

Good Omens is the absolute perfect combination of a show that is both very, very detail-oriented and full of depth while also being, secretly, an incredibly simple story. I do not mean simple in a negative way but in a chef's kiss sort of way. Simple in a tight and elegant sort of way. This is something that I think some people might not see when they're theorizing but it's something to keep in mind ahead of the movie. Not just because the movie is shorter-- this would have been relevant if we were having a longer S3, too.

Good Omens has a very engaged fan base that looks for the details, yes. *raises hand* I'm one of them lol. And there will be plenty to pour over in the movie, but... the big thing to keep in mind is that your theory needs to be something that is simple, that can be explained in under a handful of scenes, tops, and that is focused on where Aziraphale's story arc is going above anything and everything else.

If you're beginning with time loops and the birth of a new antichrist baby, I'm telling you from ages of experience reading and writing stories, you're going to be way off. If you are over here composing theories of the story that you are arguing are correct and this theory involves, idk... *makes something up* Crowley is really Elvis and Elvis is really The Bentley and when a rainbow hits Whickber Street at exactly 4 minutes into the new season, Satan will be revealed to really be Jesus, I think maybe you might be missing the point of the details that the show has given already. Like the plot, these details exist to reinforce the themes of the story. Story beats everything else-- it's what this is all about.

And what Good Omens is about? Is best summed up by Michael Sheen, in this single sentence that I really, really agree with and have paraphrased more than once in posts:

Good Omens is about the business of living. It's about the human experience, which is the experience of being a person. Everything related to Heaven and Hell and good and evil and Armageddon and supernatural things is plot that only exists to highlight a story about the complexities of being a person.

The supernatural is human and the human is supernatural.

That is what Good Omens is about.

While Crowley and Aziraphale are built as two halves of a whole and are both main characters, Aziraphale is the main character from a technical, story perspective, because he is the character whose story arc is driving both the plot and story forward. He's heading for a happy ending with Crowley in the South Downs by the end of the film. If you're making theories, start with what kind of plot would truly get him there and still fit with all of the themes of the story.

This 'it's about being a person' business is why if you look at S2 as filler and not as a season that is exploring the continuing themes on a deeper level, you're still worried about things like there being no time in a movie to show the story of a new antichrist kid being born or how they're going to fit the whole Second Coming into the movie. You don't yet see that Aziraphale parallels Adam and that being an antichrist is basically just being a person and that Aziraphale is presently the antichrist in the story. There is no antichrist child yet to be born. They won't be cutting it because it's not the story.

Armageddon since S2 has been Aziraphale's own personal one and the story from the end of S2 on is now how, if all the other characters can't come together to help him, it could also trigger Armageddon of the S1, Earth-destroying kind. It's tying a more literal Armageddon into a more figurative one. Because this story is about being a person so Armageddon is just metaphorical for going through a mental health crisis and shutting people out.

This story's themes include that every person matters and we all have to let others in and look out for one another. That there's strength in numbers. That found family and adopted family is as much family as biological family-- often, even more so. That labelling and categorizing people is bullshit and you should always open the cover and read the first sentences of people and help people whose stories begin with the same letters find one another. That it might be surprising who has things in common. It's about all of Heaven and Hell versus all of humanity, in the sense that ideas of being a perfect angel or being seen as an evil demon are concepts felt by human beings that get in the way of peace and healthy, happy living, but that fighting them is a common, human struggle, regardless of from where you come.

If you are too focused on the religious plot being the center of the film, you haven't yet seen the meaning of why the end of S1 was an eleven year old kid saving the world by telling off the bio-dad that was never there for him. You might be one of the people who thought this a silly, anti-climatic ending to that story, and don't yet realize that this is the entire story in a nutshell.

Adam can only reject Satan and keep the darkness at bay because he is surrounded-- here, literally-- by a family that supports him. He has good people for parents and was lucky enough to grow up with resources that all kids in this world should have. He has an absolutely terrific group of friends. He has this witch lady and her boyfriend and these two gay uncles that just showed up out of nowhere 😂 and his human incarnate self has what it needs to make it through this crisis, in this moment, even if he'll probably have others throughout his life, just like all of us. He's not evil incarnate and he doesn't have to be perfect-- he's just a person.

Aziraphale tells Adam this but struggles to see himself in the same way. That's what S2 is about.

S2 is about that other kid who, like Adam, breaks the season down into a single line of dialogue, David Tennant's apparent favorite from the season:

Jemimah knows who she is and she is happy to claim ownership over her art and contributions to the world. She's living her life with excitement and enthusiasm in a way that gets more complicated as we become traumatized adults. Crowley and Aziraphale struggle with this. They have been making a life together on Earth for thousands of years and each struggle, in their own ways, to truly accept that they are people who are allowed to have a life because they struggle to accept that they are people, just like everyone else.

Their story is about getting to a better place with that. That's really all Good Omens fundamentally is. That's why their ending is going to be to go live in a little cottage together that isn't a business that covers up an angelic embassy that covers up a secret love den. It's just their house-- theirs together for the life they're going to live openly together.

If you want some peace with the film, I'd advise throwing over your theories about The Second Coming and Armageddon needing to happen and antichrist kids and how Jesus fits into everything. Jesus in Good Omens is Crowley romancing Aziraphale at the crucifixion and Aziraphale using what Jesus said to Crowley to reject temptation as invitation to fuck him. I thought Jesus in a single scene or less was the most likely thing for S3 and the same holds for the movie. It's not the story. The only time The Second Coming is mentioned in S2 is by the villain and, to get there, Earth would have to first be destroyed. It won't be.

If the story is about being a messy human walking the Earth and we're in the end game now, then the story is about Aziraphale and only Aziraphale. Everything-- everything-- will be in service of Aziraphale's story arc. We already had just a few episodes with S3 and we now have even less time but the way this is going is still the same. The story is Aziraphale's fall and the other characters coming together to challenge Heaven to keep Aziraphale from eternity in Hell. That's how Armageddon is stopped this time around-- overthrowing Heaven with Aziraphale's fate as the motivation to take on The Metatron. It's nothing to do with Jesus. It's everything to do with Aziraphale.

When you see that, you can see how feasible that is in 90 minutes, with plenty of time for things like 1941, Part 3 and other flashbacks.

I think, when all is said and done, you might wind up appreciating S2 more after the film but you can get there already if you start looking at it less as meaningless fluff and start asking why it is that we were shown this story, in this way, and what that can tell us about the story we're watching.

[51voices]

Home is Where I'm Enough

Poll winner: Praise Kink (Kinkvember Debut Fic)

IVE Jang Wonyoung x Male reader

The apartment was quiet, save for the rhythmic tapping of keys and the soft hum of Y/N’s computer. He sat hunched over his desk, the screen’s gentle glow casting an ethereal light across his face as he polished the final touches of his latest graphic design project. He’d been in the zone for hours, the kind of intense flow only a passionate creator knows, dreading any interruption. But as the night grew late, fatigue crept in like an unwelcome guest, blurring the vibrant colors and shapes on his screen and drawing him into a hazy exhaustion.

Just as he stretched back in his chair, letting his arms rise above his head to shake off the dull ache in his shoulders, the front door creaked open. Though faint, the sound pulled his attention immediately, stirring a gentle flutter in his chest. He knew who it was: Wonyoung.

She stepped inside, her silhouette soft against the dim hallway light. Her usual radiance had dimmed, replaced by a look of deep exhaustion. Strands of hair framed her face, loosely tousled, hinting at the long hours she’d endured. Dressed in her favorite oversized sweater, slipping off one shoulder, and paired with comfy shorts, her cozy ensemble contrasted starkly with the glitz of her public persona. Tonight, she looked as if the weight of the world had finally settled on her delicate frame.

Her gaze drifted across the room, her steps heavy as she gravitated toward him, perhaps unconsciously drawn by the promise of comfort. When their eyes met, she offered a small, tired smile—a gesture that seemed automatic, though the usual warmth was replaced by something softer, more vulnerable.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted in a warm, low voice, breaking the quiet of the apartment with gentle concern. “Long day?”

Wonyoung let out a soft, tired breath, her smile persisting but not quite reaching her eyes. “Yeah… you wouldn’t believe how exhausting today was. Promotions, photoshoots, fan meetings… I don’t even know how I’m still standing.” Her words, though calm, carried an unmistakable weight, each syllable laced with unspoken exhaustion.

He rose from his desk, the scrape of the chair against the floor seeming louder in the stillness, closing the distance between them. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close, his embrace both protective and tender, inviting her to let go of whatever she’d been carrying. She melted against him, her body softening as she leaned fully into his warmth, the tension in her shoulders easing as if hoping to dissolve into him.

“You’ve been working so hard, princess. You deserve to rest,” he murmured, gliding a hand over her back in soothing circles, tracing gentle patterns over the soft fabric of her sweater. Each stroke was meant to ease her, to remind her that she didn’t need to be strong right now.

Wonyoung sighed, resting her head against his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat become an anchor, grounding her. “I don’t even know if I can relax,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, carrying an edge of vulnerability she rarely allowed herself to show. “Everyone always asks me for things, but no one ever asks me what I need. I feel like I’m always giving, and no one’s there to just… take care of me.”

Her words tugged at his heart, and he tightened his embrace, listening fully, letting her be exactly who she was. Tonight, she wasn’t Wonyoung the idol; she was just his girlfriend, stripped of the weight of expectations.

Brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, he murmured, “Tonight, I’m here to take care of you. You don’t need to worry about anything. How about we keep it quiet? I could make some dinner—whatever you’d like?”

She smiled softly but shook her head. “No, thank you… I’m not really hungry. Just too tired to eat, I think.”

He nodded, adjusting his suggestion. “Maybe a massage? Help you relax and ease those tired muscles?”

Wonyoung considered it, then sighed, her gaze drifting. “That sounds nice, but I don’t think I can even sit still long enough. I’d probably fall asleep halfway through.”

He chuckled softly, brushing his thumb over her shoulder in a light caress. “Fair enough. How about a movie, then? We could just put something on, snuggle up on the couch, and you can zone out as much as you need?”

A flicker of warmth crossed her face at the thought, but she shook her head again. “That sounds nice too, but I don’t think I’d even be able to focus. My mind’s just… elsewhere.”

He paused, sensing that none of his suggestions had quite hit the mark. Sliding a gentle hand to her cheek, he met her gaze, his voice tender. “Then tell me, Wonyoung. Whatever you need, just say it. I’m here.”

The world around them seemed to hold its breath, caught in the tender pause that enveloped the pair. Wonyoung, usually so composed and commanding, now appeared as if she were standing on the edge of a precipice, her usual confidence momentarily abandoned. It was in this rare instance of uncertainty that she found the courage to voice her deepest desire.

"Oppa ," she began, her voice a whisper of its usual strength, carrying a hesitance that was seldom heard. "Can we just… be together? Just us."

His response was immediate and heartfelt. A gentle smile graced his lips, his heart warmed by the sincerity of her request. "Of course, Wony. We can just spend time together, no pressure, no work, just us."

The vulnerability in her eyes was palpable, yet it was accompanied by a spark of mischief that hinted at an unexpressed longing. As she stepped closer, her fingers traced an unsteady path along his arm, her touch betraying her nervousness. Oblivious to the full extent of her yearning, he leaned in to bestow a tender kiss upon her forehead, his words a soothing balm to her unspoken needs.

"Just us, no distractions, okay?" he affirmed, his voice a comforting promise.

Wonyoung's fingers anxiously toyed with the hem of his shirt, her courage wavering for but a moment before she mustered the resolve to voice the true nature of her request. With a shy smile that barely contained her anticipation, she looked up at him, her words laced with a boldness that belied her gentle demeanor.

"Oppaa... I-I meant... can we... have... sexy time?"

The surprise that registered on his face was genuine, his mind struggling to catch up with the sudden shift in the conversation. He had been prepared to offer her a sanctuary of relaxation and companionship, but this... this was an invitation to a different kind of connection, one that was both intimate and thrilling.

As the initial shock subsided, his gaze softened, and he saw her in an entirely new light. The playful glint in her eyes, the delicate blush that graced her cheeks—it all painted a picture of Wonyoung that was both endearing and alluring. She stood before him, her hands fidgeting with a mixture of nervousness and desire, her lips parted in quiet anticipation of his response.

Understanding dawned on him, and with it came a smile that reflected his deep affection for her. "Ah, Wony," he said with a gentle chuckle, his fingers brushing away a stray lock of her hair. "You want us to... I see, of course baby"

Her affirmation was shy but resolute, her voice barely above a whisper as she laid bare her innermost wishes. "I... I've been really stressed, and I just... I just want you. Just us."

A deep warmth rose within him as he gazed at the woman in his arms, a warmth that radiated through every fiber of his being. She was here with him, stripped of the expectations and perfection the world demanded of her, showing him the truest parts of herself. Her request, so simple yet so vulnerable, spoke volumes about the bond they shared, and he felt his heart swell with love and admiration. Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled her closer, his hands finding their place around her waist, fingers pressing into her softly but with purpose. He tilted his head to capture her lips in a kiss that promised everything she might need, murmuring against her mouth, "Whatever you want, just tell me."

With that, the world around them dissolved into a soft blur, distant and forgotten, as Wonyoung melted into his arms. The room was bathed in a warm, golden glow, the light spilling over their entwined bodies and casting shadows that highlighted her delicate curves. He traced his fingers slowly along her back, feeling the subtle tremors beneath her skin, the way her body softened by degrees, her tension easing under his touch. Each stroke coaxed a little more trust from her, even as she wrestled with the restraint that held her in check, a habit formed over years of needing to be perfectly in control.

As his hands began to unfasten the layers of her clothing with gentle care, he could feel her vulnerability like an unspoken word between them. To the world, she was grace personified, a vision of poise and elegance, an idol untouchable in her perfection. Yet, here and now, she was a woman grappling with the desire to shed the weight of that polished image, to surrender the mantle of perfection she wore so effortlessly in the public eye. His fingers moved with the gentleness of someone who understood her inner struggle, his touch a balm, offering her the quiet assurance she needed to let down her guard.

He sensed the battle playing out within her, an invisible tug-of-war between the person she had to be and the one she longed to become in this private space. His lips brushed over her neck, his voice low and soothing. "Wony, it’s okay if you don’t see it yet," he murmured, pressing soft kisses along her jawline, "but you’re perfect in all the ways that matter. You bring so much beauty and strength into my life."

A shuddered breath escaped her lips as his words settled over her, each one unraveling a bit more of her control. Her hands tightened in the bedsheets, twisting the fabric as she balanced on the razor-thin line between control and surrender. His hands traced over her sides, strong and steady, each movement slow and deliberate, designed to comfort and ignite. "Let go for me, baby, it's okay," he coaxed, his voice a deep, resonant sound that seemed to settle right at the core of her, calling to her in a way she couldn’t ignore.

The endearment lingered in the air, a plea and a promise wrapped into one, coaxing her closer to that edge. Her breath hitched, her eyes fluttering shut as she fought the rising urge to surrender completely, to release everything she held back. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words came out as a fragile whisper, the vulnerability in her voice breaking through. "I don’t… I don’t know if I can," she admitted, her voice quivering, her brows furrowed in a fleeting expression of frustration and fear, the tension of her resistance etched across her face.

His response was instant and tender. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, a gesture of unwavering support that steadied her. "You can, Wony," he assured her, his gaze holding hers, brimming with sincerity. "I see how much you keep it together out there, and that makes me appreciate even more the way you open up with me. It’s such a privilege to be the one who gets to see this side of you." His words were a gentle nudge, affirming his commitment not just to her pleasure but to her peace, his hands holding her as if promising to anchor her.

Trust shone in her eyes as she took a deep, steadying breath, his words filling her with a sense of security that was as powerful as it was freeing. Slowly, she let herself relax, allowing him to guide her, his hands continuing their slow, purposeful journey across her skin, each caress a reminder of his deep affection. The pleasure within her built steadily, a growing ache, a tantalizing invitation that beckoned her toward release. Yet, even as she teetered on that edge, the remnants of her control clung to her, a practiced restraint born of habit, a habit he was patiently helping her unravel, piece by piece.

His fingertips traced her skin with a deliberate gentleness, painting a path that left her body flushed, every inch hypersensitive to his touch. The way he moved over her was worshipful, reverent, each stroke of his hand along her curves as if he were discovering her for the first time. She twitched beneath him, her back arching to meet his touch, her breaths shallow and filled with anticipation. Every caress was a testament to how he saw her—not just an idol, but a masterpiece, a person to be cherished in all her vulnerability and strength.

His mouth moved down to lavish her jawline with tender, lingering kisses. He traveled along the column of her throat, the warmth of his breath igniting her senses and sending cascades of goosebumps across her skin. With her head tilted back, she exposed her neck, an unspoken surrender in the tilt of her head, a silent invitation for him to continue. The softness of his mouth, the slow, careful rhythm, filled her with a thrill of arousal she could barely contain, her hands gripping his shoulders as she pressed herself closer to him, wanting more yet barely able to voice it.

Their lips met then, a slow, searching kiss that unfolded with a blend of tenderness and raw emotion. His mouth moved against hers with a gentle ardor, savoring each moment, each connection, and her fingers tangled in his hair as she drew him closer, letting herself melt into the warmth of his embrace. The world outside faded entirely, leaving only the two of them suspended in a quiet dance, a sacred exchange of love and vulnerability that allowed her to shed every mask she wore. Here, wrapped in his affection, she found the courage to set down the armor she held so tightly, to accept the freedom he offered.

His mouth trailed lower, each kiss slower, more deliberate, as he left a line of warmth down her body, his fingers pressing gently into her hips to steady her. The closer he came to her core, the more intense her anticipation grew, her breath catching as he settled between her thighs. She felt the tension building inside her, excitement and vulnerability intertwining in equal measure. But as his lips neared her center, a flicker of hesitation stirred within her, a whisper of insecurity breaking through the haze of arousal.

She tensed slightly, her mind rushing to the imperfections she imagined, the things she couldn’t control. In front of him, she felt bare, unfiltered, not the polished, pristine version she presented to the world. Right now, she wasn’t perfect, wasn’t flawless, wasn’t prepared. The thought made her hesitate, and she tried to subtly shift away, her hand moving instinctively to shield herself. “It's not…I’m not—” she stammered, feeling her cheeks flush.

But he paused, sensing the change in her, his gaze lifting to meet hers with a gentleness that held her in place. He brushed a comforting hand over her thigh, his touch steady and reassuring, his voice low and soft. "Hey… don’t worry. Right here, you’re exactly as you should be. You don’t need to be anything but yourself with me." He placed a tender kiss on her inner thigh, his words imbued with an acceptance that quieted her worries, the unconditional affection in his gaze anchoring her.

With a breath, she nodded, the tension easing as she allowed herself to relax, feeling the weight of her expectations melt in his presence. His hands settled on her thighs, grounding her, as he placed a soft, reverent kiss at her center, his lips warm and gentle, easing her slowly back into the moment. As his tongue began to trace delicate, slow circles, she felt herself letting go, her hesitations fading beneath the steady rhythm of his movements.

He continued with a tenderness that felt like a vow, his mouth exploring her as though reminding her that she was already perfect to him. Each touch, each gentle press of his mouth, was a wordless reassurance, a reminder that she could be vulnerable here, could let herself be imperfect without fear. His fingers stroked over her skin, guiding her back to herself, and the pleasure started to overtake the remnants of her self-doubt.

Finally, her body began to respond instinctively, hips pressing forward as her breath grew shallower, soft sounds spilling from her lips as she surrendered fully to the sensation. His mouth continued its worshipful rhythm, bringing her closer and closer to the edge until she could no longer think of anything but the waves of pleasure that built within her, each one stronger than the last. Her hand found its way into his hair, gripping softly as her control slipped, her voice a soft, pleading whisper in the quiet.

In this sacred space, Wonyoung found the courage to relinquish her hold on perfection, to embrace the imperfect beauty of being truly seen and wholeheartedly loved. His unwavering presence and the sanctuary of his affection were the keys that unlocked the gate to her unbridled self. Here, in the sanctity of their bond, Wonyoung was not just an idol, but a woman fully immersed in the depths of love and the freedom it brings.

He paused and replaced his mouth with his fingers. Her warm, moist folds pulsing around his digits, slowly he leaned towards her. The voice that caressed Wonyoung's ears was a balm to her soul, a soft, soothing timbre filled with quiet strength. "It's okay, Wony. You don't have to try to be perfect. I love you just as you are, you’re perfect to me." The words, imbued with unconditional acceptance, were a gentle command that resonated deep within her core.

Wonyoung, the idol worshiped by millions for her flawless poise and ethereal beauty, found herself gasping as the first wave of pleasure crashed through her. Her fingers, once graceful and composed, now gripped the sheets with an urgency that betrayed her facade. The pleasure was a sudden heat, a surge of sensation that ignited her senses and sent ripples of ecstasy coursing through her body. Each pulsating surge overwhelmed her with a delicious thrill, her body instinctively arching towards the source of her bliss, yet her moans remained soft and restrained—a delicate symphony of need barely rising above a whisper.

The world outside ceased to exist. The contrast between the poised idol she presented to the world and the vulnerable girl who yearned to unravel in his arms was stark and dissonant. The weight of expectation, a constant pressure to maintain the image of perfection, loomed over her. Yet, in the sanctity of their embrace, a different desire flickered to life—a longing for the freedom to embrace her innermost yearnings without fear or restraint.

The pleasure surged once more, its potency wrapping around her like a tantalizing embrace. Wonyoung's heart raced, her breath hitching in her throat as she inhaled sharply. The waves of sensation enveloped her, swallowing her whole while her thoughts swirled chaotically, tinged with a subtle desperation. Would he understand the storm of emotions raging within her? Would he cherish both the idol and the girl beneath the surface?

With every pulse of pleasure, she teetered on the edge of release, a dizzying dance between her public persona and her private self. The fear of disappointment clawed at her, but his gentle fingers spoke a language of love that was both soothing and comforting, coaxing her closer to the precipice of surrender. As she hovered on the brink, her body taut as a bowstring, his lips found her ear, and he whispered words of devotion.

"You're so beautiful, so perfect. Let go, my love. Cum for me." The sensual cadence of his words wrapped around her, an undeniable invitation, and she felt the last of her walls tremble, cracking under the weight of his praise. Her body responded instinctively, arching into his touch as he coaxed her closer to the edge. She could feel it building, a molten tension winding tighter with each pulse of pleasure that surged through her, threatening to unmoor her entirely.

Then, with a choked cry, her resolve shattered. The pleasure that swept through her was intense, potent enough to make her gasp, her core clenching rhythmically around his fingers as ecstasy surged, each wave cresting and crashing through her. She trembled, her breaths coming in rapid bursts as she teetered in that blissful space. But even as the release overtook her, rippling outward with undeniable force, there was still a sliver of herself she held back, a trace of resistance lingering at her core, keeping her from fully dissolving into pleasure. It was as if her body had surrendered, yet her heart still lingered, guarded, hovering just beyond the reach of complete vulnerability.

Wave after wave of sensation left her body limp and shivering, her skin flushed, her breaths ragged. And yet, even as she lay in his embrace, reveling in the aftershocks of her release, something deep within her remained untouched, still holding on, as though daring her to surrender wholly next time. She felt the intensity of her release—a vivid, powerful testament to how much she wanted to let go, yet how much further she could fall if only she allowed herself.

Tenderly, he gathered her in his arms as she shuddered through the aftershocks. "That’s it, baby. You’re amazing. So responsive, so trusting. I couldn’t be prouder of you." He rained kisses over her face, her neck, his words a soothing salve to her soul. She clung to him, dizzy and disoriented from the maelstrom of emotions, yet cherished beyond measure. In this moment, she wasn't a fantasy or a fetish, but a woman truly seen and adored for all that she was—a duality of strength and vulnerability, perfectly entwined in the arms of love.

"You're doing so well," he whispered, his hands continuing their gentle caress. "You're amazing, Wony." His words, soft as a summer breeze, carried the weight of his admiration and tenderness.

She sighed, her breath still shaky as she came down from the first climax, a testament to the passion they shared. Yet, there was a lingering frustration in her, a shadow of doubt that marred the perfection of the moment. She looked up at him, her eyes clouded with uncertainty. "I don't know why I can't just fully… let go," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I feel like I'm still holding on…"

He shook his head gently, his fingers deftly brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "That's okay baby," he said softly, his voice full of understanding. "You don't have to do anything you're not ready for. You've done so much already, I know you trust me, baby, please show it to me." His words, a soothing balm to her troubled heart, seemed to ease the tension from her body.

Her eyes softened at his words, her chest rising and falling with deep, labored breaths. She gave a small nod, her lips curving into a hesitant smile, though there was still a flicker of uncertainty in her gaze. He didn’t let go. His hands moved over Wonyoung again, softer this time, each touch deliberate and careful, as though every stroke carried a promise. "Do you have one more for me, princess?" he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. The heat of his breath sent a shiver down her spine. "Just trust me, Wony. I'm going to help you let go. You don't have to hold anything back."

Wonyoung's breath caught in her throat as she nodded. The tension in her body, so tightly wound, began to loosen under his careful touch. His hands roamed with purpose and pure, unhurried affection. The way he touched her wasn't just intimate; it was reverent, as if he was worshiping every part of her. His whispered praises filled the air between them like a balm, soothing the parts of her that had felt raw for so long. His lips trailed slowly down her neck, then lower, placing gentle, lingering kisses on her chest. He paused, his mouth grazing her nipple, his warmth sending a shiver through her as he focused on the stiff nub.

"You are the best thing that's ever happened to me," he murmured, his lips returning to her neck. "The way you keep going, even when things get tough, it's amazing to watch."

With each word, Wonyoung felt her defenses begin to crumble, the walls she had built around herself slowly breaking apart, leaving her exposed. Her breath hitched as her body responded, but even as she surrendered, a small, aching hesitation remained, a part of her still clinging to control. She wanted to let go, to feel fully, to be vulnerable, yet something held her back—an invisible tether keeping her from completely surrendering.

"I don't know if I can, I don't know how to…" she whispered, her voice shaking, not from fear, but from the overwhelming vulnerability that swelled inside her. She had always been the strong one, the composed one—the one in control. But here, in his arms, she didn't have to be any of those things. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away a stray tear that had slipped from the corner of her eye.

His eyes, warm and filled with love, never left hers. "Honey, I know how hard you work to be strong every day, and I see how much you carry. But here, with me, you don’t have to keep it all together," he whispered, his voice so soft, "I love every side of you—your strength, yes, but also the parts that need tenderness and care. You’ve been strong for so long; it’s okay to let yourself rest and lean on me. I’m here to hold you, no matter what. You’re safe with me, completely, and I’ll always have your back. Let go, even if just for a moment. You’ve earned it, and I’ll be right here through it all."

Something deep within Wonyoung shifted, a missing piece falling into place in a puzzle she hadn’t even known existed. In that charged, breathless moment, her last defenses dissolved. The barriers she had clung to splintered into dust, leaving her bare and vulnerable, her emotions raw and beautiful. Her body softened under his touch, yielding, pressing close, every line of her molding to him as if they’d been designed to fit together. Her heart—her most precious, guarded part—opened entirely, like a flower surrendering to the kiss of the morning sun. Years of hidden hurt and buried longing spilled forth, leaving her exposed and breathless, every nerve alive with sensation.

Her breaths quickened, shallow and uneven, as he pulled her closer, his touch igniting something deep within her, something that had been waiting, yearning to be released. She let out a soft, needy sound, a whispered “Oh…” as his hand traced her spine, sending a delicious shiver down her back. The heat spread through her, coiling tightly, winding up like a spring. His hands roamed over her skin, each stroke a spark, each caress an invitation to let go. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, and another soft moan escaped her, higher, pleading. “Mmm… please…” she breathed, the anticipation winding up within her until she could hardly bear it.

As the pleasure built, her voice trembled, rising with each sensation that took her closer to the edge. “Ah—” she gasped as he found that spot, her entire body arching into him. “Yes, I’m cumming” she whimpered, her moans spilling freely, no longer shy, each sound a testament to the rawness of her surrender, the depth of her need. When release finally claimed her, it crashed over her like a tidal wave, an all-consuming flood that left her gasping, body trembling as she clung to him. She let out a keening cry, her voice breaking into soft, shuddering moans, her fingers curling against him as wave after wave of ecstasy coursed through her, leaving her breathless and dazed.

The pleasure was pure, untainted by guilt or hesitation, a dizzying blend of bliss and vulnerability. She felt herself come undone, a thousand stars scattering behind her closed eyelids, each pulse of pleasure brighter than the last. She gasped, her voice a whisper as her senses dissolved, leaving her floating, utterly open and alive in his arms.

She clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she lost herself in the moment, in him. His hands never stopped their slow, sensual caress, letting her enjoy every last bit of her release. His lips never stopped their sweet murmurs of praise as he held her, supported her, guided her through the waves of bliss that crashed over her again and again.

When she finally stilled, panting and spent in his arms, Wonyoung felt something she hadn't in years—free. Free to be herself, free to feel, free to love. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears, a smile spreading across her face.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice hoarse from her cries of pleasure. "Thank you for helping me let go."

He just smiled, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You never have to thank me for that, baby," he murmured, his arms tightening around her. "I'm always here to help you, no matter what."

In the stillness of the night, two souls lay intertwined, wrapped in the embrace of intimacy and comfort. For a moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only the rhythmic cadence of their breaths, akin to a gentle melody that enveloped them in a cocoon of warmth. Wonyoung felt a profound sense of peace that had eluded her for far too long, nestled snugly against his chest.

He looked down at her, marveling at the sheer beauty of the moment as the golden rays of the setting sun streamed through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow around them. The tender strokes of his fingers dancing along her back were like a soothing balm, a gentle reminder that she was cherished, easing the weight of her worries and insecurities that often clung to her like a second skin. Each caress felt deliberate, as if he were painting a masterpiece against her skin, and with every touch, she could feel the tension melt away, leaving her breathless and weightless.

Devoid of the pressure and expectations that characterized her public persona, Wonyoung felt free to be simply herself. The world outside faded into a distant murmur, and for once, the gleaming lights and flashing cameras were nothing more than faint memories. In his embrace, she was not the polished idol; she was simply a woman allowing herself to experience vulnerability.

The usual assertiveness of her personality melted into a soft bundle of intimacy. She took a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of him, a mix of her favorite cologne and something uniquely his that made her heart flutter. She turned her head slightly, resting her cheek against his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat sync with her own. It was a melody of trust, of safety, allowing her to lower the walls she’d so carefully constructed over the years.

As they sat there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, she shared a rare smile, a smile that spoke of the unguarded joy that danced in the depths of her eyes. In that quiet sanctuary of their shared space, Wonyoung finally understood that the pressures of the world, the expectations from fans and industry executives, had no claim over this moment. Here, with him, she was stripped of her titles and achievements. She was just Wony — beautifully flawed, wonderfully imperfect, and so deeply human. In the gentle confines of his arms, she felt liberated, ready to embrace every fragment of herself she had kept hidden away.

“I don't know what I did to be so lucky to have you in my life, Thank you so much,” she murmured softly, her words barely breaking the silence, yet carrying an ocean of emotion.

His heart swelled at her gratitude. “You don’t have to thank me, Wony,” he replied, his voice low and reassuring as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll always be here for you. Always.”

With deliberate slowness, he shifted to tuck a blanket around them, ensuring that the warmth of their connection extended beyond just their bodies. Every gesture was measured, an unspoken promise to hold her carefully, to shield her from the chaos of the outside world. As he enveloped her further into the warmth, she exhaled a soft sigh, feeling the cares of the day slip away like grains of sand through her fingers.

The comforting weight of the blanket, combined with his unwavering presence, created an oasis of tranquility. Wonyoung nestled closer, her fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt, inhaling the familiar scent of him — a blend of warmth, safety, and love. It was a scent that anchored her, reminding her that here, with him, she could fully let go and simply be.

“Your happiness means everything to me,” he murmured softly, wrapping his arms around Wony. “I love taking care of you; it’s my greatest joy.”

In the quiet sanctuary of their shared space, Wonyoung surrendered to the day's final embrace. The weight of hours spent apart now gave way to the serene pull of sleep, a tide of weariness that beckoned her to its peaceful shores. Yet, as the siren call of rest tempted her consciousness, a single, sacred ritual anchored her to the waking world—a phrase that had blossomed into their own secret lexicon, a testament to a bond that defied the physical realm. "Oppaaa… can I have… tucky?" she whispered, her voice a tender plea in the dimly lit room.

The words hung in the air, a delicate invocation, and his heart responded with a symphony of flutters. It was a request that transcended mere comfort; it was the embodiment of a profound craving for closeness, a need that only their unique connection could satisfy. "Of course, baby," he replied, his voice a soothing balm, wrapped in the warmth of a smile that illuminated the shadows.

With meticulous care, he began to undress, each movement a silent vow to honor the sanctity of her comfort. His actions were a dance of devotion, a series of quiet gestures that spoke volumes of his desire to bridge the gap between their bodies while preserving the delicate fabric of her ease.

As Wonyoung positioned herself atop him, her lithe form a perfect complement to his, their bodies began a silent conversation. Her thighs, soft and supple, cradled his hips, while her arms encircled his neck, drawing him into an embrace that promised refuge. Slowly, she lowered herself onto his awaiting form, her slickness guiding him into the heart of her warmth. A gasp, soft and surrendering, escaped her lips as he filled her, stretching her to the brink of pleasure.

In the close warmth of their embrace, Wonyoung's breasts, soft and tender, pressed against the firm contours of his chest. Each breath they shared caused her hardened nipples to graze his skin, a delicate friction that stoked the flames of their desire. Her core, a molten haven, clenched around his length, a rhythmic pulse that echoed the beating of their hearts."

Their dance was unhurried, a languid exploration of the connection that bound them. It was a communion of souls, a testament to the depth of their understanding. With each undulation of Wonyoung's hips, their bodies found solace.

Lost in the comfort of his arms, Wonyoung's sighs mingled with the quiet of the room, a harmony of contentment. Her cheek, nestled in the crook of his neck, inhaled the familiar scent that clung to his skin—a scent that whispered of safety and belonging. Thoughts dissolved into the ether, replaced by the exquisite sensations that coursed through her. Her fingertips, light as a feather's touch, traced the contours of his back, each stroke deepening their connection.

The pleasure that built within her was a slow simmer, a crescendo that threatened to consume them both. Yet, Wonyoung reveled in the anticipation, drawing out the sweet agony of their union. She clung to the moment, unwilling to relinquish the closeness that enveloped them, a closeness that made the world beyond their embrace seem a distant memory.

"You're so perfect," he murmured into her hair, his words a tender confession. "I love you so much. Just like this. Just us." His voice, laden with emotion, was a testament to the depth of his affection. In the stillness of their shared space, their love was a living entity, a force that rendered them invincible in their vulnerability.

Wonyoung smiled at his words, a small, contented grin that reached her eyes as she nuzzled closer. She gently traced slow, lazy patterns across his skin with her fingertips, feeling the soothing rise and fall of his chest beneath her touch. Each caress brought a fresh wave of calm, a deeper sense of security, and a love that wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. She had never felt so cherished, so at peace.

“I love you,” she murmured softly, her voice a delicate whisper filled with gratitude, knowing he understood her heart without needing to say more.

“I love you too, baby, so much,” he replied, his voice tender as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. There was something deeper in his touch—a promise, a vow of unconditional love and support that she could always count on.

As Wonyoung’s body relaxed fully into his, her breathing slowing, he focused on the simple, quiet joy of having her close. The rhythm of her heartbeat matched the serenity of the room, each gentle beat echoing the contentment swelling in his chest. He realized this wasn’t just an intimate moment; it was their sanctuary, a home they had built within each other where love grew and thrived.

“You make me feel safe,” she whispered, her voice soft and vulnerable, as if confessing a secret.

He smiled, holding her even closer. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he replied softly, his voice thick with emotion. “To be the place where you feel at home.”

Wonyoung’s eyelids grow heavy as exhaustion washed over her. She hummed in content, her voice sleepy but full of warmth as she faded into the quiet, but the love in her tone was unmistakable.

Time seemed to stand still. The world outside—with its chaos and noise—faded into a distant memory, leaving only the peaceful calm that wrapped around Wonyoung and him. In this moment, together, they were safe. Together, they were whole.

[vanesycho]

welcome to stray kids headcanon！| m.list | 1,7k word

stray kids as friends with benefits | who can continue without any feelings? who can't?

방찬 bang chan | he will be completely gentle and protective towards you. he will consider your wishes rather than his own and will make sure you are getting enough pleasure.

It would be hard for him to form a bond with anyone else, so I can see that he will only be with you. even thinking about being with someone else makes him question his loyalty and even if he tried, he wouldn't be able to. for him, this kind of relationship is only between you and him.

I think he will succumb to his feelings, he is an emotional person and it seems like he can't sustain this kind of relationship for long, but he can still stay silent. he may occasionally compliment you during sex, but you can't tell if he really means it. he will try to keep it up as long as he can. If his feelings start to get the better of him, he may decide to end this relationship and distance himself from you.

"I wanted to keep quiet just to be with you, but it's getting harder to carry this burden, y/n. I can't hide my feelings for you anymore."

리노 lee know | he is definitely controlled. he acts as close as he needs to be in a relationship and doesn't cross boundaries. he is someone I think he can handle. he will talk to you outside of this relationship but even in this he knows how to maintain boundaries. If he realizes that you are unknowingly getting close to him he will back away, he doesn't want you to think the wrong things or get carried away. he has no intention of being friends with you, just sex and that is enough for him.

as long as this thing between you continues he won't be with someone else, he just doesn't prefer it. he doesn't need someone else when he already has someone, he doesn't care if you are with someone else, all he cares about is you being there for him when he needs you.

"I see how much you value me, but maybe the best part is that we don't push each other too hard."

창빈 changbin | oh he's definitely falling for you. it'll be hard for him to stop. this kind of relationship is not for him at all, he had no idea why he got into it but now he's paying the price by liking you. changbin is an emotional person, even if he tries not to show it. so the slightest bit of interest you show him will make him think that you have an interest in him in his delusional world.

this will bother him for a while and he'll wonder if he should tell you. if you're with someone else, he'll 'joke' about it.

'It's not fair for you to do this when you're the only one in my life. that's not what we agreed on.'

i still don't think he'll be able to handle it for long, he doesn't want to lose you but the confusion in this relationship is wearing him out.

"i don't want you to misunderstand but i don't think i'm the right person for this. i feel like i'm falling for you more and more every day. maybe it's better if we end this."

현진 hyunjin | It 'might' be easy for him to have a non-emotional and fun relationship. he might invite you on dates outside of that and whine about not being able to win a plushie as if he didn't ruin you last night. It might be normal for people to think you're dating, you deny it every time, but after a while, he might start to wonder. If you're coming to the dates and you're not with anyone else, then why aren't you guys dating? that would solve everything faster.

he feels like it might help it put sex on the back burner for a while and focus on him.

'look, I'm the one who understands you the best, I wouldn't miss me if I were you'

'can you believe jisung said we look like a couple again today? that's weird, but you have to admit that we look good together'

he'll try to confuse you with things like that, well...whether it works or not is up to you of course.

I don't think he'll say that by asking you out on a serious date. more often he will say it out of the blue when you are together on a normal day, petting the dog or shopping at the grocery store.

"how do you feel about dating with me? I am the only person you do these things to and the only thing missing is a ask. I don't think there is any need to complicate things, besides i think we both like each other anyw- look! here is the chocolate you wanted."

한지성 han jisung | jisung is the worst person for this relationship and he still doesn't know how he got into it. for some reason i can see him doing it because he likes you and can't say it and then starting this with you so he can be close to you. or maybe he got nervous because others provoked him and told him he couldn't do it things like this.

because dude, i don't think there's a chance he won't have feelings. this topic will hurt him more emotionally and he might ignore you for a while. he might compliment you every now and then, try to show it somehow. he'll try to make things more than just sex between you. but if he can't show it, he'll eventually give up and say it.

he'll probably blurt out that he loves you during sex.

"i love you, i fucking love you so much. why can't you see that? i want to do these things as your boyfriend from now on."

필릭스 felix | he's complicated. you don't know if he's acting so close because he really loves you or if you're misunderstanding because he's really kind. he can really be the sweetest and best partner you've ever seen and thinks about you in this relationship. if felix doesn't have feelings for you, he can still act close to you. more like a friend you can talk to.

'look, i know what this relationship is but if you really need help, don't hesitate to call me. i want you to know that i care about you beyond that.'

if he does have feelings for you, he can spend some time alone to clear his head, he'll respond to your messages briefly and tell you that he's busy. during this time, he'll gather his thoughts and think it's more appropriate to tell you, he can't continue this knowing that he has feelings for you.

"i think i started to have feelings for you without realizing it. i'm sorry if i ruined everything y/n. but i don't think i can do these things anymore knowing that i love you."

승민 seungmin | this might be easy for him. he knows what not to do before starting a relationship like this and of course he doesn't forget the most important rule 'no emotional attachment'. knowing this and trusting himself, he doesn't think he can form an emotional attachment. if you're really in a difficult situation and don't have anyone to talk to, he'll be there for you but he doesn't see it as appropriate to meet up outside of that.

don't get me wrong, I'm not saying he's not an emotional person but if he's not sure of himself, he won't get involved in such things. he has a side to his life that you don't see and he prefers only those close to him to see him like that.

it's important for him to know what makes you feel good during sex, he wants to do it properly and if you don't like something, he wants you to tell him clearly so he can act accordingly afterwards. talking about such things comes easy to him and he wants you to feel comfortable too. do you want to hold hands during sex? he'll definitely keep that in mind.

"come on, tell me. I can't make you feel good if I don't know what you like. we're both in this together, and I care about what you like. I want my partner to feel good."

양정인 yang jeongin | this is fun for him for a while. the idea of freedom that comes with being young entertains him and he might start this to be like the others in a way. he's someone who doesn't know how to keep boundaries, so he'll invite you out on dates other than that. more fun dates where you hang out as friends and where sex isn't at the forefront.

you can see that he's the same in real life like he's the same in sex, he's hyperactive and never stops, he's not quiet during sex and he likes to tell you how good it feels even if he doesn't moan.

you can still see that he's more cheerful on dates, he might make flirty moves on you without realizing it, he's a total boyfriend material and he likes that idea.

still, this thing he started for fun and to be like the others might end up costing him. he might think like hyunjin, since you do everything together, what's the point of you not dating?

it might be hard for him to figure this out on his own, so i can see that he'll get help from someone. he gets advice from each of them and wants to make the right decision.

he's starting to love you and he doesn't want to lose you, all the time he spent with you so far is precious to him, you are precious to him. that's why he won't hesitate to tell you that he loves you when he's sure.

"this situation was fun but now every moment I spend with you makes me feel like my feelings are moving to another dimension. It's hard for me to continue like this but if you let me...I want to continue as your boyfriend from now on."