#and how that plays into his understanding of heaven and the mistakes it makes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leclerc-hs · 1 year ago

Text

do i wanna know? - cl16

pairing: brother'sbff!charles x gasly!reader summary: in which you consider vacation with your family and brothers friends torture OR you fuck your brother's bff on his yacht warnings: 18+, smut under the cut, badly translated French (pls correct me!), NOT PROOFREAD (if there’s mistakes let me know please!!!!) word count: 3.5k author's note: had so much fun writing this honestly. could honestly picture myself writing more about brother's bff charles. I feel like sneaking around is sooooo fun and makes it hotter. LOL. let me know your thoughts!!! xoxo love u all. ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . ⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

IT HAS BEEN one week of pure torture. At least, that’s how you explained it as you texted your best friend. To which she responded, ‘torture and vacation don’t belong in the same sentence’.

You rolled your eyes, a wry smile playing on your lips as you contemplated her obliviousness. If only she knew! A full week spent in Charles’ company, scratch that, a mostly shirtless Charles, had left your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind, unable to find their way back to coherence.

“How could you be so stupid! Idiota!” You could hear the constant whining of your mother echoing in your ears, emanating from the dinette area of the yacht. Her complaints were like a relentless assault on your sun-kissed skin. Although “sun-kissed” was an understatement; you were borderline burned but would never dare to admit it.

“Maman, je vais bien!” I’m fine! You retorted, your voice carrying a hint of exasperation. With a sigh, you made your way back towards the bow of the yacht, where a stretch of sunbeds awaited you. Oh, thank heavens. There was absolutely no way you were returning home from this vacation without a good tan. Of course, you applied sunscreen diligently, but the sun was relentless out on the open water.

You collapsed onto the sunbed, feeling the plush cushion yield beneath the weight of your body. The sunglasses perched precariously on the bridge of your nose teetered for a moment before nearly tumbling off, saved only by a quick adjustment of your hand.

For a few moments, it was just you. You and the sun. You and the gentle breeze caressing your heated skin. You and the soothing sound of the calm waters, a tranquil melody that enveloped you in serenity. You were at peace.

The bliss of solitude didn’t last long as you felt a shadow descend upon your body, as if a cloud had suddenly blocked out the sun.

“Mon ange, you are burned.”

Your eyes were shut behind the dark sunglasses, but you didn’t need to open them to know that voice. The voice sent a cascade of butterflies fluttering in your stomach almost instantly. Despite the burn creeping on your cheeks from the sun, a telltale blush threatened to give away the sudden rush of emotions stirring within you.

Slipping the sunglasses up onto your head, using them as a makeshift headband, allowing your eyes to connect with a mesmerizing shade of green. In that moment, time seemed to freeze as you were so caught up by the profound depth of those affectionate, green eyes.

You observed as his gaze wandered your form, starting from your eyes, then descending along the curve of your nose, down to the graceful line of your neck and the delicate contours of your collarbones. His eyes lingered on your breasts for a fraction longer than usual, sending a tingle of awareness coursing through you, before swiftly returning to meet your gaze once more. A small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, hinting at a silent understanding or amusement.

As his gaze roamed over every curve of your body, you found yourself doing the same, unable to resist his magnetic pull. You seized the chance to drink in the sight of his shirtless body in that fleeting moment. Each droplet of water like glue to his bronzed skin like liquid diamonds, emphasizing every dip and contour of his body. As he shook his head, droplets flew from his dark locks, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. His hand moved through his hair in a fleeting gesture, as if trying to tame the wild strands, adding an irresistible allure to the scene before you.

“Elle est stupide.”

It was as if a bucket of ice was dumped onto your body.

That voice, on the other hand, snapped you right out of the moment, your head whipping in the direction of your brother’s voice. With narrowed eyes and a quick motion, you lifted your middle finger in his direction, breaking the spell of the moment with a playful gesture of annoyance.

“Don’t be an ass, Pierre.” You mumbled softly before sitting up fully, feeling Charles drop down onto the vacant spot beside you. He turned onto his side, resting one arm under his head as he looked at you and your brother bicker. A smile tugged on his lips.

“I’m going to get the sun-tan lotion,” Your brother tossed a towel onto the other vacant spot, before retreating to wherever the lotion was. “Some of us aren’t complete morons.”

“Mon dieu,” In frustration, you grumbled to yourself before flipping over onto your stomach, burying your head into the crevice of your elbows. Your face pressed into the cushion of the sunbed as you sought solace from the annoyance. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Toujours là,” Still here. Charles whispered softly as he leaned closer, his warm breath brushing against the nape of your neck as his finger delicately grazed the curve of your lower back, tracing intricate patterns with feather-light touches. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, a subtle reminder of his presence even though you couldn’t see him. You could almost sense the heat of his gaze penetrating the miniscule fabric tied to your body, leaving an indelible mark on your skin.

You turned your head to face him, still resting on your arms under you. A smirk, that never seemed to leave his face while in your presence, was still pulled onto his lips.

“Tu as l’air bien aujourd’hui.” You look good today.

“Aujourd’hui?” Today?

He nodded slowly, his fingers trailing up your spine until they reached the ties of your string bikini on your back. With a delicate touch, he toyed with the knotted bow, teasingly.

“Et les autres jours?” What about other days?

He rolled his eyes in a playful manner, clicking his tongue to make a ‘tsk’ sound in jest. “Tu es toujours belle.” You’re always beautiful.

He pulled his hands from your warmed skin, just in time for your brother to return, bottles of sun lotion in hand. He tossed one to Charles while demanding you to put some on.

“Putain, j’ai oublié mon telephone,” Fuck, I forgot my phone. And your brother was out of sight yet again.

“Charlie?” You put on your sweetest voice. “Voudrais-tu mettre la lotion?” Will you put the lotion on?

It was an excuse. An excuse to have his hands on you again. Not that you needed an excuse, he wanted to touch you just as badly.

He didn’t verbally respond. Instead, he silently applied the sun-tan lotion to your back, spreading it across different areas with careful strokes of his hands as he leaned over your frame, before gently placing his hands back on you.

His fingers slid across your back in slow movements, as if he wanted to remember what every inch of your skin felt like against his hands. His hands dipped down to your butt, barely covered by the bikini that adorned your body, kneading his fingers into the uncovered skin.

He sucked in a breath as you let out a soft moan from the feeling of his hands on you. The feeling of his hands massaging you.

Soft “oh’s” and “mm’s” escaped from your lips, stirring something deep within Charles. He could feel his self-control slipping away with each little sound you made, intensifying his desire with every breath you took.

He dropped a little pat to your butt, signaling that he was done, with a small cough. All you did was flip over, chest now in front of his direct line of eyesight and waited until he realized what you wanted.

“My front side needs some, no?” You could’ve sworn you heard a groan slip past his lips.

His hands slowly but surely made way back to your skin, trailing along your ribs as he made sure to miss not one inch of your skin with the lotion. His touch was tender, yet purposeful, as he ignited a trail of sensation wherever his fingers grazed. It was as if your skin was itching for more of him, while his fingers burned to touch every inch he could.

And although the air was hot, and the sun was beating down on you both. Your nipples pebbled beneath the thin fabric of your swimsuit, no doubt obvious to Charles, as if you were freezing.

“I’m done,” His voice dropped an octave, but his hands didn’t leave your skin. No, instead he carried his fingers to the small triangles of your white bikini top, daring his thumbs to trace over your pebbled nipples. You ached.

It wasn’t until Pierre reappeared that Charles abruptly withdrew his hands from you, swiftly dropping onto his back on the sunbed and feigning nonchalance as if his hands weren’t just groping you.

“Lando!” you shrieked; your body slung over his shoulder as his arms held onto the back of your thighs firmly. “Pose-moi! Put me down!”

He twirled in circles on the back deck, his movements reckless, bringing him dangerously close to the edge of the water. With a mix of playful exasperation and genuine concern, your arms smacked his back, the impact echoing a mix of amusement and anxiety in the salty air.

“Put you down?” His voice carried a mischievous tone, a hint of devilry hidden. Though you couldn’t see his face, you could practically feel the schemes brewing in his mind, a silent promise of further antics.

“Don’t you da-” Before you could complete your sentence, the momentum carried both you and Lando overboard, plunging into the refreshing embrace of the water. As you emerged, laughter bubbled up, mingling with the gentle lapping of waves against the boat’s hull. With a mischievous grin, you scooped water in your hands, splashing it at Lando’s face, eliciting playful protests and further laughter as he grabbed for your body, pulling you flush against him.

“You still got a thing for him?” Lando’s eyes darted over your shoulder, towards the boat, where an unnoticed Charles was already gazing in your direction, his head cocked as if he was mildly confused and annoyed. Unaware of his presence, you rested your head in the crevice of Lando’s neck, the both of you continuing to frolic in the water, oblivious to the silent exchange occurring just beyond your awareness.

You nodded your head once against his skin, a silent acknowledgment, before lifting it to meet his gaze. In his eyes, you saw a glint of mischief. “What?”

“Should we make him jealous?” His whispered into your ear, keeping your back to the boat, as his eyes stayed locked on whatever was behind you.

You shook your head, “He wouldn’t care.”

“Does him not caring include him looking at me like he’ll strangle me with his bare hands?” He brought his eyes back to you, one arm settling on the back of your neck as your legs wrapped around him.

“Pierre would kill you if he saw us right now.”

He tilted his head back slightly, his laughter resonating between you, causing his bodies to shake with shared amusement. “Pierre is the least of my worries, you muppet,” he chuckled, the sound rich and warm against the backdrop of the lapping waves. His fingers danced through the strands of your wet hair, his voice gentle and comforting. “Just follow my lead, yeah?” His voice carried a hint of excitement, igniting a spark of anticipation within you as you nodded.

When Lando claimed Pierre was the least of his worries, you couldn’t help but wonder how true that statement was. Still, you admired his determination not to let Pierre’s presence hinder his plans. There was a sense of resilience in him, a refusal to be shackled, and you found yourself drawn to that strength of character.

“Qu’est-ce qui se passe?” What’s going on? Pierre pulled you to the side, his tone hushed. “Toi et Lando, c’est sérieux?” Are you and Lando a thing?

You’re not sure what had him questioning you. Maybe it was you wrapped around his body in the water earlier, or the food sharing at lunch, or the inside jokes and laughter on the sunbed together. Whichever it was, he couldn’t sit back without questions.

“Non, mais ça ne te regarde pas si c’était le cas.” No, but it’s not your business if it were. There was a subtle edge in your tone as you purposefully distanced yourself from Pierre, a flicker of defiance in your step as you strode back towards Lando on the sunbed.

��I think he’s coming over here now,” Lando whispered into the shell of your ear. “You know what to do?” He pushed himself up and off the sunbed before claiming aloud he needed some water.

And as if you wanted this your entire life, which you did, you knew exactly what to do. Charles was a few steps from entering the threshold of ‘close proximity’ when you flipped over to your stomach with a yawn.

“That was quick!” You remarked, your head turned, purposefully presenting your back to Charles once more. “Lan, will you untie the string on my back? I can’t reach it, and I don’t want the tan lines from it.” There was a sly undertone in your voice, far from innocent, as you heard a loud cough from behind you and sensed the shadow cast over your body, indicating Charles’ presence.

Although you feigned ignorance, the sensation of Charles’ hands brushing against the skin above the string tie was too distinct to be mistaken for anyone else’s. Each touch carried a familiarity that sent a shiver down your spine, a sensation that could never be replicated by another.

Charles pressed his knee into the cushion of the sunbed, slipping it between your legs as he leaned forward. His body loomed over yours, his fingers knuckles-deep into the cushion with your head nestled in between, effectively hunching over you in an intimate posture. His lips hovered over the shell of your ear.

“Let me be clear,” His voice was gruff. “Ses mains ne te toucheront plus.” His hands will not touch you again.

You almost moaned at his words, but you had to stick to the plan. You turned your head just enough for your eyes to meet with his again. They were narrowed, and a much darker shade of green than earlier.

“And why is that?” It was as if you wanted a death wish.

“Si tu veux que quelqu’un te touche,” If you want someone to touch you. He began, before pausing and trailing one finger down your spine and back up it until his fingers settled on the nape of your neck, “Tu me demandes.” You ask me.

And then he was up and out of sight, as if it was a figment of your imagination.

“Est-ce que j’ai dit que tu pouvais arrêter?” Did I say you could stop? He grunts harshly as his hips rut upwards into you, your walls fluttering around his cock so tightly. You couldn’t form words as a small whimper elicited past your lips. “Hm, mon ange?”

Both of your arms are locked behind your back clenched in one of his tight fists. While his other hand grips your hip bone, controlling your movements. You were completely fucked out, your motions becoming lazy and lacking a pattern.

“C’mon fille douce,” Sweet girl. “Tu te sens tellement bien.” You feel so good. His words were edging you on, your pace increasing as you continued through the burn of your thighs working over his cock.

There was little to no room in the cramped cabin, leaving little room to maneuver, as your knees knocked into the side table earlier. The soft white comforter and few pillows that were once carefully arranged on the bed were haphazardly strewn about, adding to the sense of disorder. With only one light, casting a dim glow, the rest of the cabin remained cloaked in shadows, leaving the figure of him leaning against the makeshift ‘headboard’ which was little more than a wall, visible in the faint light. You could barely remember how you even got in this position. One moment, he was helping you find the spare cooler, the next your bikini bottoms were pushed aside as you straddled him.

“Think you’re so clever, hm?” He muttered, a grunt in between each thrust of his cock into you. “Lando?”

Your head lulled back, as Charles leaned forward to bring his teeth to your uncovered nipples, the triangles of your bikini top pushed to the sides, your breasts bouncing with each lift of your hips.

“It worked, didn’t it?” You smirked as he pulled his mouth off your nipples with a ‘pop’.

“Cherie, should’ve asked sooner.” He whispered, rolling you over so that you were beneath him now, pinned to the mattress. “Would’ve given you this sooner if you just asked.”

His hand now covered your mouth, his fingers occasionally slipping inside of it to feel your tongue, attempting to muffle your small moans.

“Silence, mon ange.”

You both could hear the rhythmic thumping of the music reverberating around the boat, blending with the sounds of laughter and occasional snippets of conversation. Amidst the vibrant ambiance, the occasional outburst of excitement or disagreement from a card game, worked in your favor of them not hearing you.

Your face was flushed red as he pinned you to the mattress, the slam of his hips filling the sound of the room. An occasional tear forming in your eye from the pleasure, from the need to come.

It was quick. One second his hips were slamming into you, the next they slowed, his head turned toward the door as if he could hear something you didn’t. Which he did. Footsteps.

“Charles? Are you down here?” There was a knock on the wooden door, the only boundary between the both of you and your brother. “Sais-tu où est ma sœur?” Do you know where my sister is?

And like the sick, twisted fuckhead Charles was, he continued rutting his hips into you. His pace much slower, but each stroke deeper, more precise. “Answer him,” His voice was so low, only you could hear him. You shook your head but look in his eyes was fierce as he cocked his head. You have no choice.

“I’m laying down,” Your voice quivered, as you tried to not moan in the middle of speaking. Charles dragged the pad of his tumb across his tongue, bringing it down to press against your already soaked clit. “I don’t feel well.” You heard the doorknob turn, but to your luck, it was locked.

“Have you seen Charles?”

“Doing so well for me, Cherie.” Charles whispered into your ear, like he wanted to torture you. “Your sweet little pussy was made for me, hm?”

Yes. Yes it was made for you. Yes, you’ve seen Charles. His cock was inside of you now, his swim shorts weren’t even completely off, neither was yours. That’s how desperate you both were.

“Mon dieu,” You yelped before Charles hand slammed over your mouth in warning, before he flipped you over, your backside now facing him. “No! But if you find him, can you tell him I’m looking for him too?” You figured it was a sly move.

Charles leaned over your back as soon as Pierre’s steps retreated, peppering kisses to your spine, until his mouth was beside your ear. “Such a good girl, hm?” The drive of his hips was world-tilting.

“Squeezing me so tight,” He grunted. “Gonna give it to me?”

Your head nodded repeatedly, your body shaking, with each forceful drive of his hips into you.

“Did you like that, hm?” He continued, “Almost getting caught with my cock deep inside of you?” You were losing your restraint, keeping your moans in was only getting more difficult.

You let out a whine as he continuously stroked your walls just right. You were too far gone to even announce that you were cumming. So, you came on his cock without a warning. But he could tell, just by the flutter of your walls around him and as your body collapsed face first into the mattress, as if you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore.

Your pussy gripped him tightly, and it was so warm, so gooey. “That’s it, mon ange.” He encouraged you as he pulled out, his own orgasm taking over him, releasing onto your backside, careful to not hit your bikini bottoms.

He fell beside you, his chest rising and falling with each breath he took as he met your eyes. “Mon dieu, we should’ve done that sooner.”

You let out a small laugh. Yes, you should’ve.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine

3K notes · View notes

ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 11 months ago

Note

Write some baby Reid stuff?!

ೇ teach me ― spencer reid .ᐟ

pairing .ᐟ college!spencer reid x plus size popular girl!reader

summary | who knew that seven minutes in heaven could lead to spencer losing his virginity to the girl he thought was completely out of his league?

warnings | reader teaching spencer how to please her, light breast play, heavy consent reassurance (bc reader wants to make sure his first time is memorable), praise, sub!spencer reid, dom!reader, praise kink, heavy use of nicknames, petting if you squint, stripping, riding, unprotected sex, creampie, lack of foreplay, vaginal sex, teasing, a sprinkle of comedy in there cause i couldn't help myself, loser boyfriend!spencer plain and simple.

wordcount | 1472

۶ৎ a/n .ᐟ | HIYAAAA this is the much demanded part two of my dry humping kinktober fic, but you don't have to read it to understand this one (but it would be preferred!!). i'm also writing this because I have something planned for this year's kinktober and i'm trying to set us up for greatness here sooo!! we'll definitely be seeing this couple again ;]

— links .ᐟ masterlist || ao3

Oh God, Spencer was shaking.

He was about to lose his virginity to the girl of his dreams, and he was fucking shaking.

You had to cut the man some slack, because throughout his college career, all he had been worrying about was working toward his first PHD, and his mother, who he had left back in Las Vegas.

As soon as he had entered your empty dorm room, your hands were on him. You tugged lightly on the roots of his hair, attempting to coax him into doing something, because right now, he was as still as a statue and yet trembling at the same time.

“Spencer…” You separated your lips with his and he immediately frowned. “Yeah - yes, yes? Are you okay?” Oh God, you were going to tell him you didn’t want to have sex with him anymore, that everything leading up until now was a mistake and -

“I should be the one asking you that.”

“What?” He asked nervously with furrowed brows.

“Well to start, you're shaking like you're cold and you aren't kissing me back.” He started to pick at his cuticles again. “I- I-” Stop stuttering, damnit!

“What?” You teased with a small smile, “Can you only get hard in public? Is it a kinky thing?”

“What?! No, no!” Spencer sputtered incredulously. His eyes were wide and frantic to the point where he stopped picking at his nails. That wasn't what this was at all! How could you think - oh. Oh. You were being sarcastic.

“I'm just kidding, Spence.” You took your hands off his body and he almost chased their warmth. “We don't have to do anything you don't want to; we can just watch a movie or something. My roommate isn't going to be back for who knows how long.”

“No - I… I want to. I'm just… nervous. I’m -” He gulped. “I'm a virgin.” His confession was muttered and meek but you heard him. The man looked up at you through his long eyelashes, his brown irises boring into your soul in wait for your reaction.

You bit the inside of your cheek and examined him for a moment. “How about this,” You grab him by his hand. “I’ll show you what to do and we'll rectify that tonight if things go well.”

You took a step toward him and his back but the door with a quiet thud. “And I'm sure you're a quick learner, aren't you Reid?”

“Very! I'm a very quick learner!”

“That's what I like to hear.”

You led him over to your twin sized bed and stood by it. You had no idea how the both of you were going to fit on it, but you were really just flying by the seat of your pants right now.

“Take off my dress.” You command softly. “O- okay.” His quivering hands grab at the hem of your dress and tug it up, all the while he was watching your face.

Spencer sucks in a breath at the sight of your bare chest and panty clad lower half. He was throbbing where he stood, and he almost died of embarrassment.

“Touch me, baby.” You encouraged him lightly by grabbing his lithe and shaky hands and placing them on your heavy breasts. He all but gasped at the feeling, but he quickly covered it up by clearing his throat.

He pinched your nipples gently and it caused you to moan quietly.

“Is this okay?” Spencer asked with a swallow. Your hands left his own and your fingers dug into his biceps, your lips rolled in between your teeth to hold back your sounds. “More than okay.” You breathed.

It goes on like that for a moment and the need that was pooling in your gut was nauseating, and your blood was rushing to every part of your body.

“Spencer…” You sighed. “Take your clothes off.”

His eyes widen in disbelief, his hands all but snatching them off your breasts and to the buckle on his khaki pants. His fingers are uncoordinated and nervous but he manages to get it out the loop while you work on pulling your thong down your legs.

You can tell he’s trying not to stare at your newly nude bottom half, and you approach him and drag your fingertips across the band of his underwear. “Can I take this off, pretty boy?” You ask just in case. He nods dumbly. “Yes, yes please.”

He decides to take off his shirt while you rid him of his boxers. “You’re so pretty, Spencer.” You coo and look up at him through your eyelashes. His cheeks flush a deep red, just like they did in the circle. “T - thank you! You are as well and… and you’re pretty all the time too!” You just chuckle. “Thank you, baby.”

“Get on the bed.” You command, and he scrambles to follow your words. You’d work on teaching him foreplay later, because right now you need him inside you, badly.

“I figured this was better than trying to have both of us laying down on this tiny ass bed.” You joke and straddle him.

Spencer’s hands are raised, like he doesn’t know what to do with them. You take them wordlessly, placing them on your naked flesh. He can’t help but squeeze the meat of your hips, the fat of them spilling out from between his nimble fingers.

“We’re gonna take this slow, okay? Because I don’t want to overwhelm you.” You placed a hand on his cheek and grabbed his cock. He yelped, his hips shooting up at the simulation. “Easy boy, easy.” You coax.

He attempts to steady himself, teeth biting down on his bottom lip in order to try and keep his composure when the tip of his cock brushes against your entrance.

“Ready?” You ask. He nods like a maniac. “Mhm!”

Then you sink down.

Spencer sounds like he’s getting his soul stolen with the way that he moans out loud. It’s a mix between a scream and a whimper really, and his eyes practically roll back into his head. His grip on you tightens, holding onto you like a lifeline, and you honestly think that his fingers are going to bruise, but you don’t tell him.

Your legs are shaking and your stomach is tight and you’re smiling deliriously like a mad woman. He feels so good and he’s filling you up so well. It reminds you of how people say the skinniest guys are always hung.

Spencer’s fully sheathed inside of you and he’s trembling, uncontrollable whimpers and whines spilling from between his lips.

“You’re so warm please…” He begs, his hips jumping up once more. You yourself yelp in surprise and he’s instantly apologizing. “‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, I just - just need more, please…”

“I got you sweetheart, just hang on.” You lift up until his tip catches your rim before sinking down again. He chokes on his own spit.

You manage to find a rhythm and Spencer desperately follows you, trying to offer you some pleasure as well. You know he is bye the way he’s constantly searching your face for any kind of disappointment.

“Do you not -” He huffs. “Does it not feel good?” It brings out a sad mewl. “It feels great, baby, I promise; but we can worry about me later. Tonight is about you, okay?” You force him to look at you and accept his words. “Okay.”

Your legs are getting tired but you’re determined to make him cum and by the look on his face and the scrunching of his eyebrows, he’s close.

“You close?” You huff out, sliding up and down at an overwhelming pace, even for you. “I - yes! Where should I…” Cum. Where should he cum is what he wanted to ask but he’s too embarrassed to. “Inside me.” You say with a smirk.

Spencer really wants to question it, but all thought is thrown out the window when he feels his stomach tighten and his legs lock.

“I - I’m -” But it’s too late by the time he tries to tell you, because he lets out a long whorish moan, and his back arches off the wall.

You grin down at him as he paints your inner walls white, your hands that were gripping his shoulders rubbing at the skin of his neck and down his upper arms. A shiver shoots up your spine but you welcome it nonetheless.

You soothe him back down to earth through his aftershocks and tiny whimpers. You feel him go soft inside of you but you don’t try to get off just in case he still needs you there comfort wise.

“Holy shit,” You laugh. “Are you okay?” You ask in disbelief.

“I feel wonderful.” The undertone of his murmur is giggly and it’s probably the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

939 notes · View notes

i-cant-sing · 11 months ago

Note

i was just minding my business like scrolling to find new fics to read since i was so so bored and while i was finding some delicious fics (ahem ahem: yandere big brother bakugou x little sister reader) ur post suddenly idk the word (lumitaw (its a filo word)) and i was screaming and immediately dropped what i was supposed to read to read yours 😭😭😭

i got the worst memory ever to exist because i keep forgetting their names but i think i'll grasp them once the next chapter is out (hopefully) but yeaaah!!! baris reminds me of abbas in a way but ig he's a bit more.. brute yk what im talking about????? ig he's ok..

OH! and i have a theory about the painting, y/n's face getting smudged maybe because baldwin or SALAUDDIN decided to smudged it to forget how they look due to heartbroken (prob not baldwin,, but i feel like salauddin would do that ??) i guess im getting married again 😔😔 i feel like im betraying my pookie salauddin 💔💔💔🙏🙏 BUT ANYWAYS THANK YOU FOR THE UPDATE SNOW!!!! AMAZING AS ALWAYS!! can't wait for the next one already!! 😭😭😭 i think i'll send more of my thoughts if something crosses over my mind (prob when im in the shower)

ooohh i like your theory(portrait pictures at the end). i like it a lot. expanding on it:

Baldwin would probably cause the painting to be smudged because he's kissing it, kissing your lips, drunk off his mind, tears streaming down his cheek as he spends hours sitting in front of it, talking to the painting as if u still exist, begging u to come back from heaven, even apologising for all he's done, just please- come back, angel...

Meanwhile Salauddin would probably be staring at your portrait angrily. He understands why you had to leave but.... you couldnt have told him where you were goinh? Do you not think he couldve protected you? He wouldve used his whole army, gathered Muslims from all around the world to protect you. Did you... did you not have the least bit faith in him? deep down, he knows u did this to prevent a war between him and baldwin but.... Salauddin wouldve gone to war for you. Happily. This wasnt your decision to make alone. Now, he stands in front of your portrait, he has it in his palace now, and he doesnt say voice it out like baldwin, but he has complaints. HE keeps them inside, mentally talking to you, telling you just how stupid you were for sacrificing yourself, for jumping off that stupid cliff. How u shouldve just- just asked him for help ONCE, and he wouldve fought until his last breath if it meant keeping u safe. In his mind, u sacrificed yourself to protect Baldwin from murdering innocent muslims or anyone else u wouldve seeked help from.

And now? All Salauddin can do is pray for you. He wakes up late into the night and sits on the prayer mat, making dua for you for hours, reading Quran for you, has animals slaughtered on eid on your behalf, even doing charity and hajj (pilgrimage) on your behalf, just so that you can have more good deeds in your name. He still has the chess board u gifted him, but he's stopped playing chess. He never played the game again, it was only a painful reminder of you. The one person who he could never beat.

As for your painting, why it was smudged? Salauddin didnt want anyone to see your beauty, thats why he kept the portrait hidden in his room, but then he feared that one day when he's not around anymore, someone will see you. So, he used a rag soaked in turpentine to smudge your face, but couldnt do more than just the bottom half of your face. He thought that was fine, after all, thats how u did often appear when you were around, wearing a niqaab, a veil that covered your face.

Now that he looks at your eyes, he realises his mistake. He heard the wise tell him-

"Eyes are the windows to the soul."

He now knows it to be true.

This is what I think the portraits look like:

Notice that this is the earrings Salauddin gifted Y/n when she was in the market with him:

How Baldwin's been:

#yandere baldwin #yandere Salauddin #king baldwin x reader #baldwin #baldwin x reader #king baldwin iv #king baldwin x you #Salauddin #Salauddin x reader #time traveller au #yandere x reader #yandere x #yandere x you #male yandere

469 notes · View notes

geeeemmmmmmm · 2 months ago

Text

"beauty sleep"

A/N:This isn't "Maybe I do know" I know so don't worry I will continue it soon aha! I don't often see college AU's anymore so I wanted to try:) I did write this on like 3 hours of sleep and I wanted to post at least something for you guys so please don't have your hopes up on how good this will be. As always sorry for any mistakes and enjoy:)

Summary:!College AU! Bucky x reader

Your woken up by a rare sight - Bucky's sick so you obviously have to take care of your boyfriend:)

WC:1.9K

Warnings:Good ol sick fic:) just fluff, like 2 swear words

You weren't woken up like you usually were, which was the soft whispers of Bucky trying to stir you awake while he grazed the back of his hand ever so gently on your cheekbone, smiling softly as he watched your eyes flutter open trying to adjust to the light. No - It was something else, something that rarely happened to Bucky. He was sick, soft sniffles were muffled by his pillow and you could slightly hear him mouth breathing, you peered over to the alarm clock on your bedside table 8:55AM luckily you didn't have any classes today but Bucky had a game today. You didn't think it was a big one but with Bucky being the star pitcher his team made it seem like the world would end if he missed a game. With a sigh you gently tried to nudge your boyfriend awake "Buck, C'mon we gotta see how sick you are" but he stayed sound asleep boy he must be really sick you thought while nudging him again just slightly harder finally jolting him awake "Mm go back to bed doll m'tired" a barely understandable sentence came from him as he didn't lift his head up but somehow his hands managed to pull you onto your back again. "Bucky you have to get up, what about your game today?" you cooed, rubbing his back gently as you spoke "I'll be ready just let me sleep it off" - a sentence you both knew was a lie. Bucky doesn't get sick much but when he won't get up, it's a clear indicator he's about to be very ill. "Can you stay though, It will help me sleep" he mumbled with a slightly brazen tone as you just shook your head trying not to laugh about how clingy Bucky was already and how amplified it gets when he's sick, but you complied and cuddled up in his side waiting for him to wrap his arms around you and fall back to sleep. You stayed quiet just enjoying your time in your boyfriend's embrace planning to let him fall back into his "hibernation" and go make him some nice soup once he's asleep. You hated seeing Bucky sick, not because you didn't like taking care of him and how clingy he got- you loved that aspect, it's just you hate seeing him so sick.

9:30AM you were certain Bucky was asleep again as you could hear little snores being emitted from him so you slipped out of his grasp making sure he didn't wake up at the loss of you in his grip, you wanted to cry seeing him stir from where you had been laying, his body always wanting you even in an unconscious but he stayed asleep. You tiptoed your way into the kitchen, searching for ingredients and the recipe Bucky's mother gave you for her special chicken soup, the one Bucky has had since he was a child when he got sick. It was hell cooking without some music playing but you braved it out with the thought of not wanting to wake Bucky up. Your morning routine was messed up already so you snuck into the bathroom, quickly brushing your teeth and putting on a weak perfume you had left lying around. Hoping you didn't wake Bucky, sure enough he was sound asleep so you went back into the kitchen to finish off the meal. After only a little trial and error (and some taste testing) the soup was complete! It smelt like heaven as you poured some into a bowl from the pot after some finishing touches of getting some toast to go with it you tiptoed back into the bedroom, bowl in hand immediately letting a grin light up your face on how adorable he looked cuddled up on your pillow, of course he somehow found a way to be close to you. Carefully placing the bowl on the bedside table you nestled back onto your side of the bed and laid back down "Bucky you have to wake up baby" you whispered gently "Buckyyyy" you playfully whined seeing him slowly wake up "I'm here, I'm here" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes - still sniffling.

"I thought this might help" you said back to him as you reached over for the bowl and toast "Baby when did you do this? You didn't have to" he questioned "I'm sorry I had to leave you while you were asleep but I wanted to make you feel better. I can tell your sick" you replied softly handing him the bowl as he Bucky hastily reached out for it "Don't leave me" he teased putting on a very fake sad face "I won't, don't worry just eat" the moment you said that he acted like he was starving and downed the soup and chomped down the toast in what felt like a couple seconds then proceeded to set the bowl down on the bed in-between you two. "So.. how do you feel?" you asked reaching out to cup his face in your hands "I'll be ok for the game, It's only a runny nose, a headache and sore throat basically nothing" he hummed back in reply resting his head in your hands "Yea basically nothing" you laughed after hearing him hold back a cough "Yep nothing!" he exclaimed sitting up all proud but that moment was short lived as the cough he held in burst out suddenly. "I stand corrected" you mocked grabbing a tissue and handing it to him "Thanks sugar" he teased after graciously taking the tissue from your hand and wiping his nose, chucking the tissue into the bin after doing so.

"C'mere Barnesy boy" gesturing to your chest as you sat against the hardwood headboard slightly lying down so he could lie on you "If you say so" he replied softly, your name coming from his lips with such love. His head was positioned just under your chin as he laid tucked into your side, resting all his weight on you. You loved being held by Bucky and feeling safe in his embrace but in that you also loved being able to hold and comfort your boyfriend knowing he feels so safe to relax in your hold. Time flew by as you fell asleep while absentmindedly running your fingers through his silky short hair admiring him as he fell asleep the moment your fingers touched his hair. 12:40PM. You stirred just a little, jolting yourself awake upon feeling Bucky's soft breaths and sniffles against your collarbone.

His game was at 3PM but you knew he and his team liked to be there around 2 hours early for whatever "rituals" they did before games. A groan escaped your mouth as you peered over to your clock "shit, I have to text Steve" you mumbled while resting one hand in Bucky's hair and stretching your other slightly to grasp onto your phone but you had to double check to see if he had somehow miraculously recovered but highly doubting it "Buck..?" you prodded the back of his neck but nothing. "Bucky you just have to wake up for a second" you said prodding his spine just a little harder but yet again nothing, one last attempt before just telling Steve that he’s out sick for this game "Bucky, bloody hell wake up" you told him - finally he started to wake up "What? what's wrong" he said hurriedly trying to hide how sleep and sickness still laced on his voice trying to hold his head up to look you eye to eye. "Your games soon but, look at yourself, are you really well enough?" "Yes, yes I'll be fine! I have to get ready" he replied, trying to get up from your side. Loyalty was a blessing and a curse for him. Bucky would do anything for you or anyone/anything he loved, but that means giving his everything even when he's in states like this.

You watched as he almost fell over himself stumbling over to the bathroom so you rose out of bed to make sure he's ok and sure enough he almost fainted as you padded over behind him. Thank god your arms reached out to hug him because he cascaded down into your arms, it was a miracle you didn't tumble down with him. "Sorry doll, had a misstep" he told you trying to pretend he didn't go down like a sack of potatoes in your arms. He kissed your cheek, smiled and begun to walk to the sink again but that wasn't cutting it for you so you clung to him like a koala, standing on your toes to rest your head on his shoulders watching as he washed his face off with some water. Something caught your eye as you stepped back from him, going over to investigate a peculiar shadow you saw in your room. Bucky called out your name the moment you left the room "Sorry babe, thought I saw something" you wandered back into the bathroom, just not fast enough as you saw Bucky almost fall down again as he grasped the counter for dear life "Please stay home, just this once Buck. You're clearly not right for tonight" you pleaded, helping him back up as he turned around in your arms trying to look down at you. "I have to play though. The team will be pissed at me, you know me I never miss a game" he said, trying to not break down at the sight of the puppy dog eyes you put on "It's one game, I'm sure they'll understand. Your team knows how much effort you put in" you tried to reason to him. "But-" you cut him off quickly "But what, you guys have had a winning streak recently and you know Sam is happy to be a sub, plus isn't this an easy team to beat?"

"Fine, I'm sorry for stressing you out" he apologised pulling you into his chest trying to inhale the sweet perfume you put on earlier in the day - sadly his nose was both runny and blocked so he gave up, not wanting to put snot in your hair. "Let's get you to bed m'kay" you whispered feeling how Bucky was one blink away from falling asleep like a horse as he held you. Only a barely audible hum of agreement came from him as he let you guide both of you back into bed. Yet again your very clingy boyfriend climbed back into bed with you and made himself very cozy on your chest. "I'm gonna watch a couple movies" you told him while peppering his head with soft little kisses, feeling him smile against your chest from your kisses. It was a perfect set up, your laptop playing a movie you've always wanted to watch but haven't had time to watch and your boyfriend resting all his weight on you, it was only slightly suffocating but you wouldn't want it another way.

A couple hours later you managed to cram 2 movies in as Bucky snored softly against you, still sniffling. Your phone vibrated, quickly you glanced at it not wanting to wake a very sleepy Bucky resting on you

Game went great! Won 6-2!!! Hope Bucky feels better soon:)

You smiled softly at the text from Sam, you'd tell Bucky when he woke because you didn't want to interrupt his "beauty sleep" setting your phone back down, you closed your laptop (after logging the movies on letterboxd) an urge to nap started to entice you, so you settled your head in Bucky’s hair and began to draw patterns on his back ready for a short sleep to pull you in.

A/N:I'm not in America so I don't know anything about baseball so please correct me if I have made a big mistake. I have had barely any motivation to write oh my lordddd

#x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #geeeemmmmmmm #bucky barnes x female reader #fluff #james bucky barnes

121 notes · View notes

lenaellsi · 2 years ago

Text

on aziraphale's insecurities in S2

i'm pretty sure one of the lines in the end scene where crowley shoots himself in the foot the most is "i think i understand a whole lot better than you do," and i don't even think he realizes how badly aziraphale takes it.

it's just a fact to him: he knows better than aziraphale what heaven is like. it's also a fact to the audience, who knows that the metatron is doing this for bad reasons and that aziraphale is walking into a trap. but it's not a fact to aziraphale. and that's the moment aziraphale goes from panicky and anxious to angry.

aziraphale's self-doubts and anxieties concerning his identity as an angel are shown frequently in s2. we start 2x01 with him deeply insecure in his 'retirement': crowley mentions that aziraphale frequently calls him to "tell him about something clever he did," and aziraphale confirms that he is essentially using these conversations as a stand-in for reporting to heaven. he misses being on The Good Team and doesn't know what to do with himself now that he's not.

so aziraphale doesn't know who he is if he's not an angel, but he also knows that he's a bad angel. he was frequently mocked and condescended to in heaven (by seemingly everyone, not just the archangels; even the quartermaster in s1 called him pathetic). he lied to heaven, he lied to god, he enjoys earthly pleasures, he loves works with a demon, and he doubts the Plan. he never fit in with them. lonely, remember?

and later in the season, we learn that shax, for all that she apparently is not great with sarcasm, is remarkably perceptive when picking up on insecurities. she mocks aziraphale twice, first in the car for his relationship with crowley (which, interestingly, doesn't faze him a bit--remember the eyebrow? he's not at all insecure in his knowledge that crowley loves him. crowley has always been the thing he's most sure of, even very early on--look at how much faith he has in him with job.) the second time she hits much harder: "crowley's emotional support angel," "shall we send in the sushi?" "the softest touch" etc. it hurts him, you can see it.

and there's another tiny moment in 2x05 I don't think I've ever seen anyone talk about, where crowley has just bluffed to the demon horde and is trying to get all the humans together to leave. crowley says, "I won't leave you on your own," and aziraphale says, "I know. But I have a suggestion--" and crowley brushes him off, saying "I got this." aziraphale looks very frustrated by this exchange, which--yeah! fair!

and over and over, we just--we see crowley be right. right about job and god, right about elspeth, right about the magic trick, the nazis, the arrangement, the apocalypse. "you were right, you were right, i was wrong, you were right." crowley's never done the dance before, he says. how many times has aziraphale had to?

and crowley's not just right, he's confident in it! he moves through the world and makes choices that fly in the face of everything aziraphale knows about Good and Evil, and it seems to come so easily to him. he's loud, and he's brave, and he's full of conviction, and aziraphale often feels overshadowed by that surety, because he's so often full of doubt. "you sound jealous, angel," is what crowley says at job's mansion, and i think he's more right than he knows.

all this to say: when crowley says "I think I understand a whole lot better than you do," what aziraphale hears is you idiot and how can somebody as clever as you be so stupid and I was right, I was right, you were wrong, I was right. and he's fucking sick of it.

and so he doubles down, and he gets in the stupid elevator, and he makes the worst mistake of his life, because he's sick of being treated as heaven's lackey or crowley's sidekick. the metatron knew exactly what to say to get him there, and crowley had no idea he was playing directly into it.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens meta #aziraphale #crowley #gos2 spoilers

2K notes · View notes

with-my-calamitous-love · 8 months ago

Text

STARRY EYES SPARKIN’ UP MY DARKEST NIGHT

touya todoroki x reader

you and touya find solace together, dancing barefoot in the kitchen.

separate from my other touya x reader series. i missed writing short little tidbits for him 🤍 i can write a part two if you guys want! slight nsfw themes

inspired by call it what you want (and all too well)

honestly, he though it was stupid.

after a 2 hour long session of touya being knee deep between your thighs, taking you to heaven and back on the couch, he allows you to pull him towards the kitchen. here, he’s wearing nothing but jeans that he can’t even be bothered to zip up. not that you’re complaining- he’s sculpted like a masterpiece.

touya’s enjoying the view as well, watching you in a big t-shirt and not much else. if he can’t dance, he’ll at least admire the way the fabric clings to you in the glow of the fridge lightbulbs.

some american singer plays in the background, singing about her reputation. shes not the only noise going on, however. the quiet domesticity of your shitty apartment is loud and clear to the two of you. and somehow, its more romantic than grand gestures or fancy, expressions of love.

for a man who never knew the love of home, he sure cherished the fact that his and your laundry were both thrown into the same cycle. he loves the smell of rice cooking in the fridge, and handily fixing that leak in the sink you didn’t know was there. he chuckles when you join him in the shower, not being able to withstand the cold temperatures he prefers to bathe in. he loves the sound of running water when he washes the dishes after you cook, and your soft breathing when he hushes you to sleep.

its so mundane. so simple. so familiar.

nobody’s heard from him in months. his scarred hands make their way to your waist, holding you as you sway back and forth. you fit in his arms like a daydream, his head hanging low as he decides this is the place he wants to be.

your forehead presses against his, searching those burning blue eyes for any signs he may not really love you the way he says. any doubts or any lies.

you find none.

you step on his toes accidentally and he teases you, because of course he does- “thought you were the expert on this, doll.” he smirks, flashing that same shit-eating grin you came to love.

you roll your eyes, hushing him up by moving in closer. “i told you, i am. you’re horrible at this.” you chuckle. he loves that laugh of yours.

“i’m a stone-cold villain, not some ballroom dancer.” he reminds you, though the way he suddenly twirls you around says otherwise. maybe he just wanted to see the way your hair dances around your body, your simple beauty captivating him enormously.

touya loves you like you’re brand new. the way he looks at you, taking in every detail silently. to him, you make dancing barefoot in the kitchen look like a sky full of stars.

suddenly, all the judgement from your past disappears. the heartbreak, jokers taking swings at you and liars calling you one fade to nothing when you look at him. you crumble his castles, the walls he builds up just with your gentle touch. he doesn’t understand how you do it, or even why he loves it so much.

for all his life, he’s made the same mistakes. bridges burn, people hurt and baring scars- he almost never learns. but when he looks at you, god- he knows he’s done one thing right. he finds it in him to laugh with you, to feel the happiness he never knew he was allowed to experience. yeah, you’re definitely the 1 thing he’s done right.

“you know you can’t save me, right?” he asks in a whisper, head dipping down to your ear. and he’s right. he’s someone who, no matter how much you love him, you can’t burn stronger than his flames. he wants to be sure. he wants to know you’re here, dancing with him in the kitchen of your apartment, willing to get your heartbroken. he’s steeling himself for the pain he’s about to cause you.

if love could save us, we’d live forever.

but right now, he’ll keep dancing with you.

“…i know.” you whisper, silent resignation in your voice. at the very least, you two have right now.

if you could, you’d wear TT around your neck. not because he owns you- touya could never own or even deserve someone as kind and light as you. but he can say that he knows you, and loves you harder than anyone you have ever known. his tortured heart burns the brightest for you.

its more than anyone else could say. they could berate you, call you two criminals and lash out in violence. but the two of you challenged them- let them call it what they want. they don’t know what it really is, anyway.

for @crushmeeren whose kind words on a vent post i made earlier this week inspired me to write🤍🫧

159 notes · View notes

animeshotsh · 1 year ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/animeshotsh/741539075795877888/not-the-baby-various-x-kidreader?source=share

What will happen If in this fic ☝︎ we're badly injured and Lucifer was a little bit too late to save us?

Anon this is going to hurt T_T

Warnings: alternative universe - violence - cursing - death - angst? - off canon events - grammar mistakes -

In this scenario you got several wounded by the angels. Everybody tried to protect you but they were too many of them and just a few of you.

Once Alastor "lost" against Adam everytning went downhill. Adam did a number on you, not caring for a single moment if you were a kid or not, he just saw another sinner.

Did you see how angry Charlie got when seeing how Valentino talked to Angel ? Well, now get that anger and make it worse.

Charlie its a beast. Adam not only did kill Sr.Pentious but dared to hurt you, her little relative, not by blood but for sure by emotions.

Even with her anger she cant defeat Adam and it just makes her worse.

Its when Lucifer comes to her rescue and then sees you on the ground being tended by Angel the best he can that he snaps.

Oh boy, he snaps really bad.

Its not a fight, its a gigant crushing an insect. Lucifer wont go easy, he wont play with Adam he will go and make him suffer.

And do you remember how Alastor went off to heal ? Well the shadow thats always with you just happen to tell him how bad you are doing and who caused it. And now he is back at the battelfield.

Once Adam its on the ground, Charlie, Lucifer and Alastor take turns on punching him till Adam its letting out gold blood from his mouth.

Only when a worried "boys" from Angel calls them they stop and go towards you.

And oh....no.

Lucifer knows before anyone, not even his angelic powers can heal you. All your bones are broken and miss placed. Blood its coming out from your side and head.

And you really want to give the three of them a smile, to make them feel and understand that this is not their fault.

But you cant. Everything hurts too much and you cant even see well. You end dying down there in the arms of your father and sister. Alastor having to turn around to prevent anyone from seeing his face.

The last thing they saw from you was your scared look.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

After that, everything lost its bright. Lucifer would end more depress and Charlie would lose her hope for sinner to go to heaven after seeing what an angel did to a kid. No one can mention your name in front of Alastor who is more scary and sinister now. Whatever light you managed to bring on him its now gone with you.

~☆~☆~☆~☆

In a much more brighter and peacefull place.

You wake up and the first thing you see its a pair or purple eyes and big white wings.

"Hello! Im Emily, welcome to heaven, whats your name little one?"

"Im...(Y/N)..." and thats all you can recall. Because the afterlife its cruel, you cant remember anything from your life on earth or in hell.

You just have your name and the angel named "Emily" now.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x you #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #charlie x reader

529 notes · View notes

carlottawllms · 1 year ago

Text

Make You Feel Good

Ben Chilwell x Reader Fluff / Smut Word Count: 3.9K

Excuse the rather long (and maybe weird) build-up and the fact this whole thing might be absolute rubbish. I didn’t know how to start this one for some reason and I struggled a lot with the smut...

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! <3 As always, feedback is very much appreciated.

Before you’d actually met Ben, all you’d known was how he was constantly pictured as a womaniser, someone who wouldn’t pass up the opportunity of a quick shag and whatever situationship came his way.

Not that you were surprised. Years of friendship with Mason had taught you a thing or two about the media and public and just like him, Ben was a successful, gorgeous young footballer people liked to talk about.

Men about the performance of the boys on the field. And women...well…whether they really knew them or not constantly had something to say and alleged secrets to reveal. You couldn't count on two hands how many times you’d heard about Mason's alleged love affairs from the media or some random women on social media.

With Mason, that had never been much of a problem. He had thick skin and a good support system and most of the stuff he’d never read anyway and even if it made you a little angry, knowing it didn't faze him, helped.

Ben however was a different story. He wasn't one of those hard-shell-soft-core people. He was soft all over. A big, warm and cuddly teddy-bear. And he was someone who needed a bit of protection.

When you’d gotten together about a year ago, you’d quickly realised that the picture the media had painted of him, was not true in the slightest. Ben wasn’t a womaniser who shagged every woman he came across. He was quite the opposite.

Reserved when it came to the physical bit. It had taken him a long while until he’d opened up to you for the first time. Until he’d had the guts to tell you that sex in a relationship wasn’t that important to him and that it was difficult for him to go for it all the time.

You’d seen it in his eyes in that moment; the expectation of you running off and leaving him like some others had before you, but instead, you’d kissed him softly and pulled him into a hug, telling him it was alright.

After having been given the feeling of only being good enough for a satisfying shag in previous relationships, finally having found someone who needed more than that and was not shying away from showing the loving and romantic side of himself, felt like heaven on earth.

Lately however, Ben had pulled away completely. Not emotionally, but physically. The situation with Chelsea had taken a toll on him and kept weighing him down, especially now that, more often than not, he was put on the bench or forced to play in a position that didn’t come naturally to him. His performances were meh, clearly below the expectations of the fans and therefore miles away from what he expected of himself.

At first, he’d tried to deal with it on his own, but his personal experiences from the past had quickly led him to confide in you. He’d told you how much pressure rested on his shoulders and that he didn’t feel like he could give his all, so he wanted to direct his full attention on football for a while.

And that’s how he’d unintentionally put you both on a sex ban.

Instead of cooking together, cuddling on the sofa or loving one another between the sheets, Ben spent the majority of his time in front of the TV or his laptop, watching and analysing entire games, individual scenes or simple mistakes repeatedly in order to be better prepared for the next game.

More often than not, you kissed him goodnight and went to bed alone, only for him to crawl under the covers hours later like a dead man and fall asleep without even pulling you into his arms.

It wasn't that you didn't understand. Quite the opposite actually as you knew that Chelsea meant a lot to him and he wanted things to get better, but the combination of lack of sleep, losses and the lack of comfort of your relationship he cherished so much, led to him being an emotional and moody mess that occasionally lost his shit over the smallest of things.

And whilst you could deal with a lot of things, a constantly stroppy boyfriend wasn’t one of those.

The defeat against Villa marked the day you eventually decided that something had to change. As you were preparing the dinner in the kitchen, the door opened and slammed closed almost immediately, followed by the thud of Ben’s bag hitting the floor and it wasn’t long before Ben passed you with an annoyed look on his face.

He grumbled a simple “Hi” and squeezed your waist in an attempt of a greeting and disappeared into the living room, no doubt watching today’s game back.

“Okay, that’s enough.”, you sighed quietly. Placing the spatula to the side as the dinner had to wait for a little while, you made your way upstairs to prepare something, that had been crossing your mind a couple of times those last few days.

Between training sessions, games and analysing everything all over again at home, Ben had barely taken the time to unwind and relax properly – physically and mentally – and as it didn’t look like that would change anytime soon, you’d decided to look after him and help him get rid of all the pent-up frustration torturing his mind and body.

Whilst letting him mull about the result downstairs, you were quick in getting the bedroom ready. From the way he was so trapped in his own head, you knew he’d probably not take too well to you jumping his bones straight away, so you’d come up with this plan of a little massage and seeing where that would lead.

He needed to switch off, let you take care of him and you knew he was aware of that too. As always, Ben just needed a little push.

Once the curtains were closed and slow music was softly playing in the background, you changed into a cute, but slightly sexy pair of pyjama shorts and a matching t-shirt before making your way downstairs again.

Ben was still glued to the same spot on the sofa, his gaze focussed on the match replay on the tv. His furrowed brows made his usually so soft and warm eyes appear all hard and his lips were forced into a straight line with no hint of the sweet smile you loved so much.

You hated seeing him like this. So sad and dejected.

“Benji?” You voice was barely loud enough to drown out the commentator talking about how there was still so much work to do for Chelsea, and when Ben made no move to pay even the tiniest amount of attention to you, you moved right in front of him.

“Come with me please?”

Ben looked up at you, confusion clearly written all over his face as until today you’d always let him do his thing after games, but when you didn’t budge and simply held your hand out for him, he eventually grabbed it and followed you up the stairs in silence.

“What’s all this?”, he asked once you’d entered the darkened bedroom. He immediately noticed the scent of your perfume and when you moved your hand up his arm and leaned into him a little, he couldn’t help but feel at ease.

“I know it’s all been very difficult lately.”, you mumbled, fingers dancing over the warm skin of his forearm. “You’re so hard on yourself and you know I understand and support you, Ben, but you need to allow yourself to switch off too. You’re torturing yourself with what you’re doing and when you refuse to take care of you, you’ll have to let me do it.”

“y/n-”

“Do you trust me?”, you asked, moving in front of him so you could look him in the eye and when you grabbed his hands, Ben was quick to nod.

“Of course, I do.”

“Good.”, you smiled, feeling the way he squeezed your hands. “Then give me a little kiss and take your shirt and joggers off before lying down on your front for me.”

Ben wanted to refuse. He wanted to tell you no and go back downstairs to watch the rest of the game, but the way your thumbs continuously caressed the back of his hands as your eyes stared into his, made him nod eventually.

“Okay.”, he whispered as he cupped your cheek and dipped down; eyes zoning in on your lips and for a split second the question of how long he’d gone without kissing you crossed his mind, but before he could say anything, your lips met his in a long overdue, soft kiss.

Ben almost immediately sighed at way you felt against him and when you melted into his body as he wrapped his arm around your waist, he hummed in content. He’d missed you. A lot.

“Take it off and lay down, Benji.”, you whispered against his lips when you had to part to catch your breath. Your heart was racing, and it would be easy to get distracted by the way he felt against you, but you had a plan and you wanted to go through with it.

After another sweet peck, Ben eventually pulled away, took his shirt and joggers off and flopped down onto his front, leaving you admiring his toned back and curved bum for a few seconds.

Ben was attractive in the best of times, but there was something about him in not more than boxers with his bare upper body on display. His smooth skin was basically begging to be touched and the way he used his arms as a pillow had the muscles in his back bulging.

A surprised grunt flew past his lips when you all but flopped down on his back, face hiding away in his neck for a few seconds as you simply enjoyed his proximity, but it wasn’t long until you sat back up and reached for the oil you’d placed on the nightstand.

“Might be a bit cold for a sec.”, you warned him as you poured a bit of the liquid all over his back, but he didn’t even flinch.

“Feels nice.”, he hummed the moment you started to run your hands over his shoulders, fingers massaging the soft flesh in a way that had him melting into the mattress a little more and you couldn’t help but smile. You hadn’t seen him this relaxed in a rather long while and the longer you kept working away on his muscles, the deeper his content sighs got.

When you brushed a particularly tender part of his back, a moan flew past his slightly opened lips. It wasn’t more than a tiny one, but it still managed to spark something inside of you.

You’d always enjoyed touching him and loved the way his skin felt warm and smooth beneath your fingers but having him like this underneath you was something else entirely. The way he was so calm and relaxed had a mixture of happiness and pride rushing over you, but it was his tiny moans that made you feel something in the pit of your tummy.

You dipped your hands down his sides, the gentle caress of your fingers causing goosebumps to erupt, and you couldn’t help the tiny smirk appearing on your lips.

“You like that?”, you asked quietly as you repeatedly ran the tips of your fingers all over his sides.

“Mhmm.”, he hummed, nodding his head as best as he could. “Very much.”

With your hands settled on his sides, you bend down. Lips barely brushing his skin and leaving tiny kisses, you made your way up his back. It was a first, careful indication of where you wanted this night to end and when he didn’t push you off or tell you to stop, you continued kissing and nibbling on his skin.

Ben’s breathing deepened, the more kisses you left all over his back and when you pressed a kiss right behind his ear, a shuddery breath left his lips.

“Keep going.”, he whispered; his voice slightly hoarse and laced with the emotions running through him. He could feel your touch everywhere, tingles rushing down his spine with every inch you covered, and it wasn’t long that he felt your lips brushing his jaw.

You pecked the corner of his mouth and laid down next to him, turned on your side so you could look at him and you were pretty satisfied with how riled up you’d got him. His cheek was flushed, hand clutching the sheets gently and he was still panting a little, hips shifting against the mattress for what you assumed was some sort of friction.

“Fuck that felt good.”, he chuckled breathlessly as he moved to lay on his side as well and you could tell by the impressive tent forming in his white Calvins, that he meant it.

Ben leaned in and pressed a rather heavy kiss to your lips. His hand finding your waist and pushing underneath your shirt to caress your soft skin almost immediately and as you were so swept up in the moment, it didn’t take you long to deepen the kiss a little more.

“y/n.”, he moaned as he felt you burying your teeth in his bottom lip, and you were quick in using the chance to invade his mouth and brush your tongue against his with slow, lazy strokes.

Kissing Ben always felt like you were pulled into another universe, but after not having had him like this in a while, the way his lips moved against yours felt even more intense.

Not thinking straight anymore, Ben let you push him on his back. One of his hands found its way to the back of your head, whilst the other dug into the soft flesh of your waist, effectively pulling you even closer.

However, when you moved your leg over his thighs and arched into his side a little more, fingers trailing over his collarbone, you felt him getting a little rigid. It was as if the brain fog had eventually cleared a little and made him notice the direction you were heading in.

“y/n, I-”

“Shhh.”, you whispered against his lips, featherlight touches travelling down his tummy and causing his abs to contract. “Let me help you relax, Benji. You’ll feel so much better.”

The surprised moan he let out when you barely brushed his hard cock over his boxers had the tingle between your legs returning. His whines and moans, especially the breathless ones when he was close, were insanely sexy to you and you didn’t think you could live another day without hearing them properly again.

“I don’t know, I just…Oh fuck.”

You knew he thought he wanted to push you off and take a cold shower, but the slightly increased pressure of your hand and your teeth nibbling at his pulse point did all the convincing that had to be done.

“We’ll go slow, okay?” You kissed his lips softly again. “And I’ll stop whenever you want me to, I promise. Okay?”

“Okay.”, he rasped, eyes squeezed shut as you kept palming him over his boxers and after a few more seconds you could feel him surrendering to the pleasure and relaxing into the mattress. “It feels so fucking good.”

The kiss you shared grew messy really quickly as Ben could barely concentrate on anything that wasn’t your hand and you had to hold yourself back from jumping his bones, so you took your time, but it wasn’t long until you snuck your hand into his boxers and let your fingers trail over his hard cock.

“Fuck!”, Ben choked, his hips involuntarily bucking up to meet your touch. “Please don’t tease.”

It was obvious how touch-starved he actually was and how much he had been craving to feel you like this again, but you wanted to keep it slow, so you pulled away until you were barely touching the sensitive skin. It wasn’t meant in a teasing way. More a way to rile him up as much as possible so you could provide him with one of these insane highs, he loved to give to you.

“Do you want more, Benji?” A small proud smirk playing at your lips at the way he nodded like a madman, almost giving himself whiplash. “Yeah? You do?”

“Yes please. y/n, I just…anything, just please- Oh my god.”

Ben threw his head back into the pillow when you grabbed his hard cock into your hand fully and ran your thumb through the leaking pre-cum a couple of times before starting to stroke him properly. Slowly though as you wanted to feel him properly and ease him back into things.

But from the way he kept twitching and pulsing in your grip, it was easy to tell he didn’t need any time at all to get back into it. Tiny whimpers and moans echoed from the walls; a vocal reminder that it was actually you who made him feel this way. And the only one who got to see him in this state. Slightly sweaty, body melted into the mattress, abs contracting. Pretty eyes squeezed shut, lips parted and hands fisting the sheets.

He looked gorgeous. And sexy as hell.

“You look so hot Ben.”, you hummed; lips trailing along his jaw until you found his sweet spot. Sucking slightly on his skin pulled a louder moan from him and when you buried your teeth in his skin and soothed the sting with your tongue soon after, Ben’s breath caught in the back of his throat.

“You’re…insane.”, he moaned. “Fuck, y/n, it feels so fucking good.”

A particularly harsh squeeze around his dick had his hips repeatedly bucking into your hand and you knew he was getting closer to his release but as this wasn’t the way you wanted him to cum, you pulled back and sat up on your heels.

“What the-”

“Shh.”, you grinned, fingers already hooked into the waistband of his boxers. The material snapping against his skin eliciting a rather harsh hiss from him. “Can I take these off?”

Ben could barely nod in agreement, his brain way too fogged from the pleasure running through his veins, but it wasn’t good enough for you. Tutting, you grabbed his chin between your fingers so you could make him look at you.

His usually so warm and bright eyes were dark and clouded. A look you hadn’t seen in them in what felt like forever.

“I need your words, baby. Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes.”, he panted. “Fuck, yes please baby.”

The boxers were off in mere seconds, giving you way more room to play with him for a little longer and with your hand back to stroking his dick, you started to move down his body, teeth just about nibbling on his skin, but to your utter surprise, Ben’s hand cupped the back of your neck, pulled you back up and crashed his lips on yours.

You were startled for a second, overthinking if you’d overdone it or why else he didn’t want you to give him head, but when he pulled away for a second and moaned “Faster, please.” against your lips, all worries were erased from your brain, and you obeyed.

It wasn’t long before Ben threw his head back into the pillow and bucked his hips up repeatedly, chasing your hand for even more friction and that delicious release that was so close already he could almost taste it.

“I want you to look at me.”, you hummed into his ear and to your surprise, Ben actually turned his head and opened his eyes. “Now cum for me, baby.”

And that was all it took for him. With a mixture of moans, curses and your name falling from your lips, he reached one of the most intense highs he’d ever had.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh my-fuck!”

You could feel his release covering his tummy and your hand and making a literal mess, but you couldn’t look anywhere else other than his face. Contorted in pleasure and lips parted, with whimpers and pants falling from them, he still kept his gaze on yours and the way his now dark eyes were all clouded made you feel all sorts of things.

Despite having finished, you kept stroking him to keep the tiny sparks of pleasure flying through his body, like he always did once he’d brought you to your high with his tongue and only when his whole body was shivering and he pushed your hand off, did you stop.

His chest was heaving; the afternoon shenanigans had worn him out like nothing before, but now that he was slowly coming down from his high, realisation of what just happened hit him.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hold it anymore.”, he mumbled embarrassed. He didn’t think he’d ever cum this quickly before. “I just…I don’t even know. I really wanted your mouth, but I was so close already, I think it would’ve killed me.”

“Don’t worry, baby.”, you smiled, turning his face towards yours again. “It was hot as fuck.”

Pushing yourself up on one arm you ran your finger through the cum on his tummy and brought it up to your lips; eventually getting the taste he’d withheld from you less than a minute ago and the simple move had Ben groaning beneath you.

“Stop that.”, he whined. “It makes me want to go again.”

“I wouldn’t mind that, you know.” Lowering yourself on the same level as him, you brought your lips close to his ear. “I’d actually love to have the full package, Benji.”

“You’re killing me, woman.”, he groaned before gripping the back of your head and pulling you in for another passionate kiss. He could taste himself on your tongue as he brushed his own against it, but it only sparked another rush of excitement inside himself.

He still felt sensitive and a little sore, but the moment you were fully naked underneath him, he couldn’t care less.

“Ben.”, you moaned. Your fingers dug into his arms, nails most definitely leaving crescent imprints in his soft skin, but the way he stretched you deliciously, was taking over even the tiniest parts of your brain. “Fuck, I missed this so much.”

“I missed it, too, baby.”, he breathed. “Won’t ever go this long without fucking you, I promise.”

And a heavy kiss to your lips sealed his promise before he eventually started to move his hips in a way that had you seeing stars.

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell fanfic #ben chilwell x reader #football imagine #chelsea fc #football fanfic #chelsea imagine #ben chilwell fluff #ben chilwell smut #fluff #smut #fanfiction

362 notes · View notes

castielscaplan · 8 months ago

Text

Crooked Halo (Castiel)

Summary: you've been hunting Castiel for quite some time now. But when the opportunity arises, will you take it?

Warnings: Angst?

WC: 960ish

Read on Ao3!

The soft hum of the wind filled the night, sweeping through the abandoned streets, but it was the quiet footsteps behind her that sent a chill down her spine. She had been waiting for him—waiting for Castiel.

It had taken years to track him down, but she was finally here, ready to finish what she’d started long ago. As an angel hunter, it was her duty to find the ones who had strayed, the ones who had fallen, whether they realized it or not. Castiel had been her greatest challenge, but she was prepared.

Prepared for the end.

She stepped into the shadows of the alleyway, the cold metal of her angel blade pressed against her palm, her fingers gripping it like it was the only thing grounding her. She had heard stories about Castiel—the angel who had once saved the world, the angel who had rebelled against Heaven for the sake of humanity. The stories painted him as a hero, but she wasn’t so easily fooled.

She knew the truth.

“You’re not as hard to find as you think, Castiel,” she said, her voice cold and sharp as she felt his presence behind her.

His deep voice responded, calm as always. “I know why you’re here.”

She turned slowly to face him, her eyes locking onto his. Castiel stood there, his trench coat billowing slightly in the breeze, his blue eyes piercing as ever, but there was a weariness in his gaze. He looked tired, worn down by the weight of millennia.

“I doubt that,” she said, stepping closer. “Because if you knew, you would’ve run farther.”

Castiel didn’t flinch, didn’t move. “I don’t run anymore.”

Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. “That much is clear.”

There was silence between them, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down. She could feel the tension in the air, the way it crackled with the energy of an inevitable confrontation. But there was something else—something in his eyes that wasn’t quite what she expected.

Sympathy. Regret.

“You think I’m like the others,” Castiel said quietly, his voice carrying a sadness that surprised her. “But you don’t understand.”

She raised an eyebrow, her grip tightening on the blade. “Oh, I understand perfectly. You may have been a hero once, but your halo became crooked eons ago.”

The words hung in the air like a challenge, and Castiel’s expression flickered. For a moment, just a moment, she saw the faintest shadow of pain cross his face.

“You think I’ve fallen,” he said softly, almost like it was a question. “You think I’ve strayed too far.”

“You have,” she shot back, her voice hard. “You’ve played both sides, broken Heaven’s laws, rebelled against your own kind. You’ve saved the very humans that were supposed to be beneath you. You may not have turned into a monster like the others, but you’re not innocent, Castiel.”

His eyes softened, and for the first time, he stepped toward her. She stiffened, blade ready, but he didn’t make any move to attack.

“You’re right,” Castiel said, his voice heavy with the weight of everything he had done. “I’m not innocent. I’ve made mistakes, more than I can count. I’ve killed, betrayed, and defied Heaven itself. But I did it for them. For humanity.”

She scoffed, her heart hardening. “You’re just like the rest of them, trying to justify the blood on your hands.”

Castiel’s gaze never wavered. “Maybe. But the blood I’ve shed… it wasn’t for power. It wasn’t for some divine plan. It was to protect the people I care about.”

Her chest tightened at his words, but she forced the emotion back, hiding it behind the mask she’d worn for years. She wasn’t here to listen to his excuses. She was here to end him.

“I don’t care about your reasons,” she hissed, stepping closer until the blade was inches from his chest. “You’ve fallen. You don’t get to choose how your story ends.”

For a moment, Castiel looked at her like he saw something deeper, something beneath her rage. His voice was quiet, almost gentle. “I see the hurt in you. I know what it’s like… to feel like you’re alone. But I’m not your enemy.”

She froze, the blade trembling in her grip. He was supposed to be the enemy, the fallen angel she had been trained to hunt. But why did his words feel like they were cutting deeper than any blade ever could?

“Don’t,” she whispered, her resolve crumbling for just a second. “Don’t act like you know me.”

Castiel’s eyes never left hers, and there was no judgment, only understanding. “I do know you. Because I was like you once. And I know the pain of realizing you’ve been fighting the wrong war.”

Her heart thudded in her chest, her mind racing as his words hit home. She had been hunting angels her entire life, driven by a hatred she barely understood anymore. But standing here, face-to-face with Castiel, she felt something shift.

Maybe he wasn’t the monster she’d made him out to be.

Maybe… she’d been wrong.

The silence stretched, and for the first time, she hesitated.

“I don’t want to fight you,” Castiel said softly, his voice full of quiet sincerity. “But if you’re going to kill me, I won’t stop you.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She could end this right now. One strike, and it would all be over. But her hand wouldn’t move. She looked into his eyes and saw the truth she’d been avoiding all along.

She couldn’t do it.

With a shaky breath, she lowered the blade, the weight of her decision pressing down on her.

“You’re not what I thought you were,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

Castiel gave her a small, sad smile. “I never was.”

#castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel x y/n

121 notes · View notes

twisted-whatifs · 4 months ago

Text

A Twisted Phantom In the Opera

Christine!Yuu x Phantom!Malleus, Phantom of the Opera AU.

Notes: I have tried to keep this as a gn!Yuu, but might have messed up a few places. If you find any mistakes don’t fear pointing them out! It will only help <3 -Love Aren ♡

Summary: Yuu Daaé, a young actor who has been showing lots of talent ever since they got this mystery teacher, has gone missing. While the rest are busy panicking, as letters are being sent around threatening the new owners, letters which have been signed by a certain phantom... Yuu is busy finally seeing their teacher and angel of music, rather than communicating through mirrors and walls. They end up getting to know him a lot better than they expected, finding out that while he may not be an angel of music, he is certainly not human either.

Will this phantom of the opera win over their heart like he always dreamt of? Or is their type a bit too human for him?

Intro

Yuu 1st person

It all started when I was but a child, I suppose. My father, who was so dear to me, was lying on his deathbed. When my mother left for the heavens, I had my father's hand to hold. Now that it was my father's turn, I still had his hand to hold. But when his funeral came, whose hand could I hold then?

“When I’m in heaven, Child. I will send the Angel of Music to you..” He said. His voice was weak, his hand shaking as he held me close. He was all I had left, and there was no one when he went. No one at first, at least. Then Madame Giry took me in, and taught me how to dance. I was now one of the many girls at the opera house, who got a place to live in exchange for our labour. And so I danced. I danced and I sang, just like my father and I used to, just like my father and mother used to as well. As I grew, my fathers promise was finally fulfilled. One afternoon when I was singing by my fathers picture, right after the biggest play I had ever been part of at the time, I heard a voice.

“A voice of such beauty should not sing songs of such pain.” I heard a voice say. At first, I was frightened, for I thought I was alone. But as I sought out this stranger, he began to sing. He asked me to sing with him, coaxing me away from fear. He gave me pointers and taught me how to avoid strain on my vocals. As time went on, he disappeared. Yet the next time I returned to light a candle for my father and I began to sing, I heard him again. He asked for me to sing with him, so I did. He taught me much this day, and so did he the next. Before I knew it, he had become my teacher.

“Father once spoke of an angel. I used to dream he’d appear. Now as I sing I can sense him and I know he’s here.” One day I finally realised that he must be the Angel of Music my father had spoken of. He had to be, for he was so kind. He taught me the art of song like no other, with the passion of one who could only be an angel. His voice was of ethereal beauty. He must be an angel, for he could make even a whisper sound like the melodies of heaven.

But now, as I stand here, I realise he may not be the angel I used to see. Perhaps he is, but there is something to him that tells me other stories. He is my angel, yes. My Angel of Music. But he is also so much more.

Let the Song Take Flight

Yuu 1st person

As I stood on the stage, singing with my heart, I couldn’t help but hope he saw. I wished for nothing more than the Angel of Music to be proud. But what was more than that, I hoped I had not disappointed Madame Giry. She was the one who had claimed I could take the role, as Carlotta had been too busy throwing a tantrum. And now I stand in the Prima Donna dressing room after Meg had swept me away from meeting up with my teacher. She had been worried and said I looked so pale, that I needed to rest. I wanted to resist, but I had to admit that perhaps it was best if I didn’t strain myself. I was sure my teacher and angel would understand.

“Little Lotte, let their mind wander…” I am busy looking at the rose my teacher had gifted me when I hear the words of a childhood memory get spoken. I turn my head to see where it came from, not having expected Raoul to remember me. I haven't seen him since my father's death, so for him to remember such a small thing, is a surprise. As Raoul continues to speak the words of nostalgia, I can not help but join in. For such words are not made to be forgotten. No, they are made to be remembered, repeated and sung. So I will sing.

“No… What I love best, Little Lotte said, is when I’m asleep in my bed and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head.” I sing with him, melodies of shared memories flowing between our bodies. A warm embrace engulfs me as we hug, arms wrapping around each other, even if for only but a moment. He is still my friend, despite the years that have gone by. Not much has changed between us, that is obvious. Perhaps too obvious, for it seems that Raoul still acts like a child, to some extent. For he does not accept my no, as he invites me out to supper. Nor does he let me deny his request, as he tells me I have two minutes to get dressed. I can only hope the Angel of Music will forgive me, for I have no choice it seems. I begin to change, hurrying as much as I can. I know how impatient that man can get. And perhaps if I hurry, I’ll be back fast as well.

So I change as fast as I can, yet as I work to undo my corset, every candle in my room is unlit. A darkness that surrounds me like no other. Terrifying it is, that I have to admit. But what is truly terrifying, is the angry voice of my teacher and Angel of Music that I hear.

Insolent boy, he calls Raoul, and perhaps he is right, yet it frightens me nonetheless.

The words I utter that are meant to calm him, seem to have little effect. Yet as I continue to speak, the icy air seems to thaw. His words turn from threats to pitiful self-hatred.

Jealousy has never suited any man and it seems the same goes for angels. For his voice is beautiful, yet the jealousy and anger it hides dirties it. To hear his voice soften is like watching mud turn to crystal-clear water. It is beautiful, a miracle for humans to witness. As he begs me forth, telling me to look in the mirror, I feel a sort of relief. He must no longer be mad if he seeks to speak with me.

Yet my relief is thrown to the side, as shock finds its way to my mind. For what I find in the mirror is not my reflection but a strange man, yet as I hear his voice I know it must be him. My Teacher and Angel.

The Angel of Music that hides no longer.

I faintly hear the sounds of Raoul trying to enter my locked dressing room, yet I do not mind it. Even though I may not remember locking the door, any worries I hold disappear as I let him hold my hand. I hear him sing as he leads me through the tunnels of this opera house, tunnels I did not know existed before this day. I am like in a trance, my eyes unable to move away from his form. Anywhere that is not him does not deserve my gaze, that is all I can think. In fact, I barely even register the horse. In any other situation, I would have wondered how he managed to get a horse into these tunnels, yet at this very moment, it did not seem strange. In fact, it is not until I start to sing, that I finally seem to realise what is happening. Yet instead of being frightened or confused, I am… content? I don’t mind this, I realise. In fact, it somehow feels right. To finally see my Angel of Music, after years of him talking to me, and teaching me. It was surprisingly nice.

So when we finally arrive at his home, or at least what I assume to be his home, I do not mind it. I do not mind the strangeness to it, or the fact we had to sail to get here. I do not question the fact that he lives in the sewers beneath the opera house either. Instead, I just accept it. This is him finally showing me who he is, so I shall make sure he knows that I will not run away.

“I have waited for so long, dreaming of the day you will finally see who I truly am.” He hums, embracing me from behind, as his fingers entwine with mine. I let myself lean back against his chest, his form towering over mine. I tilt my head to look up at him, my eyes catching his. He is ethereal, otherworldly. He holds a beauty that is unmatched. Everything about him tells me just who he is. Just the way he stands practically sings power.

Everything about him makes me want to know more. And so, I can not help but ask. For it is in my nature to be curious, even more so when it comes to him. Years I have spent getting to know him, yet it feels like I am just meeting him all over again.

“Long I have waited to see you, rather than just hear you. Yet now, I am left with more questions than answers.” My voice is barely above a whisper and despite this he still catches every word that I say.

It seems that his attention is purely on me. For he hears every word I say, all the while his hands caress every inch of my skin. My one hand escapes his, coming up to caress his face. The mask that he bears peaks my curiosity, for why would an angel need to wear such a thing? Even more so, I wonder why he would wear a hood in such a private place. Yet I have so many other questions to ask as well, for he is a mystery to me. I have always thought that I knew him, yet at this moment I realise he is still so unknown to me. He is like the vast unexplored seas that make me want to jump on a ship and leave. To see just what I may find, what treasures I may stumble across, what stories will unwind.

His eyes capture mine again, as I get lost in the green of his irises. For a second I feel that I am wandering some forest of the fae realm, before I return to the real world again. Yet again I am convinced he is an angel, for only an angel would have eyes like his.

“Let me show you something, my muse. Perhaps your questions will be answered.” My thoughts are interrupted and perhaps it is on purpose, for it seems that he knows my mind was wandering. His hands trace across my collarbone before he lowers them to the small of my back, leading me forward to show me this mystery thing.

It is like my feet barely touch the ground, as I follow him. His one hand grasping mine as he leads me forward, his other hand gently resting on my back.

As he leads me toward a curtain, I patiently wait for him to reveal what is behind. Despite the excitement that vibrates throughout my bones, once I see what is behind the curtain, I feel faint.

Hidden behind this curtain, is a mannequin that looks exactly like me. And what’s more, this mannequin is wearing some sort of wedding attire. The thought is sweet, that I have to admit, but it is too much.

The world around me goes dark, and my legs can no longer keep me up.

Signed the Opera Ghost

Malleus 1st person

My hands barely grasp my muse in time, before they hit the ground. I had not expected them to faint at what I had shown them, otherwise I wouldn’t have made it. Oh, how I hope they are okay. I lift them up in my arms, carrying them up into my room. As I look at them, I can not help but admire the piece of artwork that is their face. How a human can be so otherworldly, I can not say.

I gently place them in my bed, before pulling down the canopy around them. It is best if I let them sleep in peace. I can just practice some music while I wait for them to return to consciousness. I decide to let my monkey musical box play for them while I wait, in hopes that the tune it plays will keep them calm.

So I leave them to lay in my bed, watching their sleeping form for but a moment, before I leave again. The organ that calls to be played, lures me out of the room.

But before I let myself get carried away with such things, even if it may be what I love, I know it is best I send out a few letters explaining that Daaé is alright. I can not have people worrying, after all. No, that would risk having my dear muse get stressed, and I can not let that happen. So I will construct some letters, explaining what has gone down. I will write letters telling the new owners how things are supposed to be run around here and perhaps, if they are not fools, they will listen.

After an hour of writing, I finally let myself sit down by the organ to play, letting my heart come out and on display. As my fingers find their way to the giant instrument, I let myself compose a new opus. It is still but a work in progress, yet I know that with some fine-tuning, it will be beautiful.

And so I play, for minutes or hours I do not know. My mind is lost in the music, too distracted to notice the form that creeps up behind me. Only do I notice once I feel a soft hand on my shoulder. I turn my head to them, the beautiful Yuu that has captured my heart. Smooth skin that brushes against mine, caresses and gentle touches. Their hands that grace me like I am some delicate flower, yet also someone to be held.

Fingers that mould against my cheek, a palm that warms my cold body. Their hands play the role of my mask, holding me so protectively. In their hands I feel safe, something in which I am not used to. Perhaps I never will be. For as I let myself lean into the touch and enjoy the warmth, I feel something is wrong. I move faster than I have ever let a human see before, my hands reaching for my hood. Atop my head, which is usually hidden by a hood made of silk. But now as I reach to check if it is still in place, I find it to be missing. Instead, my hands find the smooth surface of my horns, cold to the touch, usually hidden.

An instant dread fills my heart, for a moment all I can see is red. For I had trusted them, I had trusted the child of man and it was a mistake. A mistake that I will have to pay for, it seems. All I can do now is wait for them to scream and run away, or beg for mercy. I was foolish for thinking them different, of course, they are not. All humans are the same, curious little creatures. They seek to know what is not their right to know, with no mind of consequences.

“Is this what you wanted to see?” The rage in my mind unlike any other, for I had trusted them. Had this been anyone else, I would have been saddened yes, but it would not have hurt. With them this feels like a betrayal, for they are dear to me. So hopefully they will forgive me for cursing, for yelling and frightening them. For even if they angered me, no person should be belittled like that. Perhaps they are wrong in what they have done, but so am I. That is something I realise as I see the look on their face. The fear written across their face, written in every one of their tears.

“Can you even dare to look, or bear to think of me? This loathsome gargoyle…” Explosive anger that is turning into sombre whispers and saddening thoughts. For I hurt them, I hurt the child of man, my muse. I hurt my Yuu, my Yuu Daaé.

I am so lost in my self-wallowing thoughts that I barely notice the hesitant hands that help me put up my hood, as I struggle to do so myself. Yet again I am stricken with the feeling of guilt, as I see the way they try to help. They truly meant no harm, that much I can see. That much I should have seen from the start, for I know they are kind. Oh, so very kind.

“Who seems to be a beast but secretly dreams of beauty…” My voice wanders off, as I try to find a way to apologise, to find the right way to express everything in my mind. Yet, instead of finding an apology, other words seem to leave my mouth. My lips spelling out the letters and my tongue pushing them past my teeth. I tell them we should get them back, as I know they can’t possibly wish to be around me any longer. Who would want to be around such a monster? Who would want to stay near the infernal beast that I am?

I help them to their feet as I prepare for us to leave. They should go back home, and far away from me. I want them to be safe, truly I do. More so than that, I know staying around me is not anywhere near safe. They must know that too. If they did not know that before, they certainly do now.

“Those fools who run my theatre will be missing you.” I try to encourage them, as they make no move to leave. It would be too selfish of me to make them stay, I know that. So why are they making no move to leave?

The way they watch me, at first I thought it to be a look of fear. But now, now I see it is something else. Their gaze that screams pity. Sorrow is etched into their very essence as they stare.

Their hand that grasps mine is soft, a shock that runs through my body stopping me from pulling away. A shiver that runs down my spine, as they say words I have never heard before.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

One Love One Lifetime

Yuu 1st person

The words I speak are the truth, despite the suddenness of them. And if my words do not convince him, then I hope my actions do. For I hold him close, his hands in mine. I let him see me for who I am, and not who he thought I was before. Yes, I did something bad. I should not have pulled down his hood when he was so obviously hiding something, yet I could not help it.

But his reaction told me everything I needed to know, I had gone and ignored a boundary that should have been respected. For that, I will feel internally bad. He holds my heart so dear to him and yet when he gave his heart to me, I just dropped it like nothing. But even though I know I was in the wrong, it does not seem that he thinks so. In fact, the guilt I see in his eyes is practically eating me alive. So I speak the words of forgiveness, for I truly do forgive him. I forgive him for getting mad, not because I believe he’s at fault though. Because I believe it is what he needs to hear.

“But please, forgive me. If anyone is at fault, it is I.” My whispered apology is met with soft silence, looking up and into his eyes, regret filling every fibre of my body. I let one hand trail up to hesitantly cup his cheek, feeling his cold skin meld against mine. It seems that he still holds my heart, keeping it safe from danger. Even the danger that is me.

“You trusted me and I… I broke that trust. For your forgiveness I am unworthy, yet I will still pray you try to forgive me.” I have never been one to beg, yet for a moment I consider it. But despite my thoughts, it seems he holds mercy dear. For his face seems to soften, almost lighting up. A small tug at the corner of his mouth, before it returns to its usual solemn state. Despite this, I know he is not mad. Perhaps he is not even sad. I let my spirits get lifted at this thought, as I properly look at him again, taking in the beauty he holds.

Why would such a man ever trust me? Let me near him, sleep in his bed? How could I ever be enough to someone as perfect as him?

“Forgiveness is not something you should ask for, child of man. It is something that has already been given a long time ago.” The voice that is his echoes throughout the room, yet what should sound ominous only sounds like peace to me. For I was finally given peace, knowing he did not hate me. I can't help myself from throwing my arms around him, embracing his taller form. I could feel him almost freeze in my hold. But as I begin to pull away, realising my inappropriate act, he pulls me against him. His arms surround my body tightly like he fears that should he let go, I will disappear.

“I have one final question for you.” The drip of water almost drowning out his voice, making it hard for me to hear, with how low his voice is. Yet I manage to hear his every word. Just one question, I wonder. For I would answer a million, should he ever have that many to ask. Yet I do not deny his request, instead waiting for him to tell me what he wishes to say. I do not know what he wishes from me, but I would say yes to anything. For when he is there, nothing is impossible.

“Will you reach the final threshold and stay with me? That’s all I ask of you, my muse.” His voice but a whisper, yet it still reaches my ears. I can tell he doubts if it is a good idea to ask, yet he does it anyway. For a second I find it brave. My eyes go wide as I pull back to see his face, once I finally register what he said. I needed to see if he meant this, if he truly meant every word he said, or if he was playing some cruel joke. Yet what I see is not the face of amusement or mischief, instead it is one of unsure seriousness. It’s a nervous face, yet not a single twist of his expression shows any cruelty.

A soft smile spreads across my lips as I look up at him, realising he means it. He must truly wish for it. And I can not help but consider every option I have. He means so much to me. He has been there for me for so long, teaching me the art of music like no other. He gave back life to me, he gave back a joy I thought I had lost that day I watched my father get lowered into the ground. So perhaps I am a bit selfish to want to stay, perhaps I am a bit selfish to wish to leave everyone behind for him, but it didn’t sound bad. In fact, it sounded like what I needed more than anything else.

“My Angel, I love you. Say the word and I will follow you.” Whispers of love flow through the night, like music. Small little melodies that take flight. So when he utters the words, words of love and admiration, I let myself be swept away by his charm. My hand gently tilts his head down to meet me, as I stand on my toes to meet his lips.

Such a small touch yet such a meaningful act. Two bodies touching so gently, so lost in the love for the other. A kiss so full of devotion, hands coming to grasp at the other, fearing they’ll otherwise get lost. What could be described as a dance for others, is like a song for us. The music is silent yet there, every note and melody so evident in every movement and touch. Soft lips pressed against soft lips, breath coming short.

But now, as I stand here, I realise he may not be the angel I used to see. Perhaps he is, but there is something to him that tells me other stories.

He is my angel, yes. My Angel of Music. But he is also so much more. For as our lips part and his hood falls down, he does not try to hide his horns. And as my eyes catch his and I see how pupils turn into slits, I know that he is no angel. But that changes nothing, for he is still my Angel of Music.

86 notes · View notes

redfoxwritesstuff · 5 months ago

Text

AN: What do we have here? Did we forget a couple presents under the tree? Merry Christmas Nyxy, happy Boxing day- I hope you don't regret it. That's it folks, we made it to the end of Smutmas! Did you like it? Or were you all too burned out on smut on the heels of Kinktober? Would you like to see this or a similar event next year? Above all, remember the biggest lesson learned here- don't lick doorknobs.

CW: Smut, religious trauma, pretending to be a priest, belly bulge, loss of virginity, anointing oil used as lube (Don't do this)

Summary: Vox is owed money and the price of business is high. He's not a businessman anyone should keep waiting. So when Father Francis does just that, Vox finds a rather entertaining way to pass the time while he waits around the church.

You make the perfect thing to pass the time with. Sweet, innocent and pure- you take every one of his lies at face value, trusting the new priest taking your confession in the place of Father Francis. The cost of forgiveness and absolution for your sins is high but… the new Father wouldn't lie to you, would he?

Vox straightened his suit as he stood from the pew. Parishioners milled about still, lining up to speak to the priest as if he could somehow grant them salvation into heaven’s pearly gates if they but only had a few more moments of his time.

The idea alone had Vox scoffing, but he did what he did best and put on a showman’s smile. There would be people who notice him, remember him, but that was the price he paid for being him.

“Father Francis!” Vox held out his hands, palms out, and spread in greeting. Nothing to see here, folks, just a friend greeting the father. “It’s so good to see you.”

Father Francis greeted, wrapping Vox in his arms in a tight hug. The preacher patted Vox’s back, whispering in his ear, “Wait in the confessional box.”

Vox nodded, walking confidently over to the booths. He made a point of admiring the ornate craftsmanship; the details carved deep into the wood while he also looked around to see if anyone was watching him.

As soon as the coast was clear, Vox opened the door closest to him and stepped inside. The dim light inside was just enough to see by, not illuminating much in the way of details.

There wasn’t much inside the small booth, all things considered. The bench was simple and hanging on a small hook inside the door was a spare set of robes, much like those that the good Father wore on a typical day.

“Mr. Vox?” Father Francis poked his head inside the door.

“Do you have the payment?” Vox asked, keeping his voice low.

“I need to make a run to the hospital. A parishioner’s father is not well, I- It’s urgent, Mr. Vox.” The man stood just inside the small booth, looking sheepishly at Vox.

“You’re not trying for a delay, are you, old chap?” Vox made a show of looking at his nails, not wanting Father Francis to have any more attention than Vox deemed necessary.

“No!” Father Francis repeated the word, softer as he looked around sheepishly. “Not at all. I’ll have the funds. I just- we don’t think he’ll make it more than a few more hours. It’s vital that he has his last rites. You understand, don’t you?”

“Sure,” Vox waved his hand as if he was batting away a bug. “I’ll just wait right here. You won’t be long, will you?”

“Make yourself comfortable in the chapel.”

“Oh,” Vox laughed. “I’ll be waiting right here.”

“No, no-” Father Francis laughed awkwardly as he reached for the door. “Someone will mistake you as a preacher. You-”

“Good!” Vox said, a smile blooming on his face. “All the more reason for you to hurry back.”

~~~~~<3

Vox sat, passing the time, playing what amounted to dress up. The last thing he wanted was to step out of the little box and have to deal with socializing. Instead, he put on the robes, dressing himself in the garb of Father Francis’ role. He admired the feel of the robes, how different they made him feel, only to freeze in place at the sound of door hinges squeaking.

Someone stepped into the booth on the other side of the wall. Vox looked back and forth in a panic, hoping to find some sort of hint, something to tell him what he should do or say next.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” Your soft voice carried through the wall easily. You sat neatly on the small bench, head down, as you focused on your task.

“Haven’t we all,” Vox whispered under his breath.

“I’m sorry?” You looked up, eyes glanced at the mesh that obscured your view of the man on the other side of the wall. You couldn’t see much more than the basic shape of him sitting there.

“Nothing,” Vox waved the question away, out of habit more than anything, not knowing if you could see him at all. “Carry on.”

“It has been… it has been a while since my last confession, Father.” Your fingers twisted in the soft fabric of your skirt as you tried to will the tears back from your eyes. The air in the booth tasted bitter and stale on your tongue, but you forced yourself to take a deep lungful of it, anyway.

“Tell me of your sins?” Vox urged, not knowing for sure if it was the right thing to say but wanting to urge you on. You had such a pretty voice. He couldn’t help but wonder if the face matched it. Hell, did your body match the voice?

“I’ve… lust has plagued me,” you whispered, struggling to find your voice in the face of the horrible things you had been thinking. “I- the thoughts come to me during the darkness of night, during the devil’s hours. I focus on my prayers, but the thoughts- they even come to me in my dreams.”

“And what are those thoughts, exactly?” Vox asked, leaning forward.

“I beg your pardon?” Your voice wavered as you looked again at the mesh between you.

“I need to know the details of your thoughts,” Vox said, eyes straining to look through the mesh to see the woman sitting on the other side. “How else can I offer you absolution?”

“I-” you hesitated only for Vox to speak over your doubts.

“You can trust me,” Vox said, smile spreading wide. “I’m just a man of God, here to help.”

“Okay,” Doubt lingered in your voice, but you pushed on. “There’s been men- I’ve been noticing them. I’ve been noticing things about them and thinking-”

“What have you been noticing about them?” Vox asked, scooting closer to the mesh, hoping to see something more than just your silhouette.

“Oh.” The sound came out as a sweet little squeak that ran down Vox’s spine. “The… the way their pants rest on their…their bodies.”

“What parts of their bodies?” Vox pressed. “You need to be honest and detailed or I cannot help you.”

“Right,” you sighed the word, face and chest growing hot with the words you were going to say. “The way they rest on… their hips and around their… pelvis.” It took you a while to settle on the right word, unsure how… vulgar the good Father wished for you to be. “I also… notice the way their shirts fit across their chest or the way the muscles in their hands and arms move.”

“And what does that noticing inspire?” Vox leaned closer to the mesh wall. “Our God made the human form in his perfect image, did he not? Isn’t admiring the beauty of it little more than worshiping of His greatest work?”

“I-” You sighed, “Yes, I suppose, but… It makes me think of how it would feel if they… if they gave me their attentions.”

“In what sort of way?” Vox had his face nearly pressed against the mesh now, finally seeing you, though poorly.

“In…. romantic ways.” Your voice came meeker as shame washed over you.

“How?” Vox pressed, needing more, wanting more. He could hear the shame in your voice, the watery sound of emotion threatening to choke your words.

“I… I think of how it would feel to have their hands on my.. on my thighs or touching my breasts.” You choked on the words, face burning with shame as you ran your hands through your hair. Curling in on yourself, you willed the words to continue. If you couldn’t say it, he couldn’t help you. “I think of how it would feel if they kissed me and held me as a husband should hold his wife.”

“And how is that?” Vox shifted, pants growing tighter under the robes. “You must be very detailed, my child. The devil is in the details and you do want me to help you, don’t you?”

You whimpered, curling in on yourself more. Never had you felt so shameful sitting in this little booth. It had been a place of comfort for most of your life, but now? Shame was all you felt. It had been too long since you had come. That was what made your mind, heart, and soul weak.

“I think of… the feeling of his skin against mine. I- Of the way his lips would feel on my skin… and what it would feel like to have them… have them take me to their beds and lay with me.” Tears welled in your eyes as you confessed to the good Father your sins.

“Have you acted on these desires?” Vox asked, palming his hardening cock through his pants.

“I am pure,” you whispered, pleading with the priest on the other side of the thin wall to believe you. Your attendance slipped, but you were still godly. You hadn’t acted on the thoughts. You had done nothing forbidden. He had to believe you. God had to believe you, had to know.

“Even to yourself?” Vox asked, pulling his cock from his pants, moving slowly to make as little noise as possible. Once he was free, head brushing against the inside of the robes, he wrapped his fingers around his shaft. A sigh whispered between his lips as he leaned back, shifting his hips toward the edge of the seat as he worked his fist over the length of him slowly. “Do you touch yourself to these thoughts? Do you indulge in the- the lust of them?”

“I-” Tears ran down your cheeks. You were crying openly now, no longer making an effort to hide it. If you wanted forgiveness, you had to lay it all bare in front of the Father and in front of God. “I almost did, Father. Last night- That’s why I came here. Please, I do not wish to sin.”

“Do you feel it?” he murmured, his voice low and deliberate as his hand began to move faster over his length. “That ache inside you, the one that refuses to be ignored?”

“Yes, Father.” You answered, though you were not sure you understood. The ache inside you was the demon, clawing at your insides, demanding your fall.

“The cure is surrender,” he said, leaning closer to the mesh. “You have to open yourself completely. Let yourself be filled, every inch of you, until there’s nothing left but the purity of what you’ve accepted.”

Your pulse quickened, your voice barely audible. On the other side of the thin wall, you could just hear a rhythmic rustling, almost. It was a ghost of the sound, as if he was rubbing his leg. “And if I can’t?”

A slow smile curved his lips. “You will,” he said, his tone curling around you in sinful delight. You told yourself it was little more than the whispers of demons. “You just have to let it take you... wholly.”

“I’m scared.” Your voice was broken, strangled by fear and shame.

“Oh fuck,” Vox whispered, precum smearing against the inside of the robe. “The price for absolution will be high, my child.” Vox struggled to keep his voice steady as he swiped a thumb over the head of his cock, smearing the slick fluid that hadn’t been wiped away yet.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” you cried, turning to face the man you could not see, tears dropping from your chin. The scraping of your nails against the wooden frame of the booth was loud in the small space, or at least it seemed that way to you and to Vox.

“The cure for lust is to be filled with- with the Holy Spirit.” Vox said again, “This is a ceremony of utmost seriousness a-and we must begin it immediately.”

Vox was certain you would question him. There was no way you would just accept his lies. Surely he was too far off the accepted script, but damn, you sounded so sweet and innocent, sitting there crying in the other half of the box… and he wanted you.

He wanted to take that innocence and grind it under his heel. It angered him in a way that he couldn’t explain that something as sweet and innocent as you could exist, untainted.

“What must I do?” you whispered. “I’ll do anything to be in God’s graces again, to be freed of this demon. Please, Father. Please, help me?”

“Good,” Vox sighed, cringing as he tried to shove his cock away, settling on fastening his pants up over his shaft. The waistband pinned his head to his abdomen. “Stand up and close your eyes,” Vox said, smile growing wide and greedy. “Do not open them until I tell you. I’m going to lead you to a room where we can see to this ceremony.”

“But Father-?” You stood, eyes fluttering shut even as you questioned him. You were, at your core, a good girl who listened to the authority of the Church.

“Do you trust your God?” Vox asked, standing himself. “Do you trust in the power he has vested in me?”

“Yes,” you said without a shadow of doubt as that feeling twisted your insides. It was a vile, uncomfortable feeling that had you shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“Good girl,” Vox said, stepping out of the booth.

The church was empty. His eyes settled on the altar and oh, he would love nothing more than to push everything off of it and take you right on top of it. That wouldn’t do, though. It would be pushing you too far.

He opened the door to your booth, finding you standing with your eyes closed. You were just as he hoped you to be. Perfect and meek and oh so good. You looked like a ripe fruit, ready for the picking. Perhaps you were an apple?

Vox was eager to spoil you for all that would come after him. “Keep your eyes closed.”

“Why?” you asked, even as you continued to obey, walking forward as a hand wrapped around your arm at the elbow, tugging you softly out of the box.

“Why, we must keep the sanctity of the confession.” A wicked smile spread on Vox’s face, though you could not see it. All you could hear was the soft care in his voice, promising you he was a man who cared about what’s best for you.

Vox lead you carefully through the church. He wasn’t totally unfamiliar with the building. The altar was too risky, but Father Francis’ office- surely no one would go in his office without at least knocking first. He watched as he lead you, ensuring your eyes stayed closed each step of the way.

You allowed yourself to be led, heart pounding in your chest as you squeezed your eyes closed. Fear kept trying to worm itself into your mind, but you pushed it back down again and again, reminding yourself that you were safe. You were with a man of God.

“Where are we going?” you asked. “What happens next?”

Vox shushed you. “I need you to show faith in your God.”

Vox walked you into the office, your simple heels clicking against the hardwood floors. After directing you to stand where you were, Vox made quick work of cleaning the desk of the stacks of papers and books Father Francis left littered on the surface.

Once the task was seen to, he returned to your side, placing a steady hand at the small of your back. “We’re just about ready.”

“Can I open my eyes?” you asked.

“Not now,” Vox said, smoothing down the hair at the back of your head as he walked you up to the desk. “You must show great faith as I exercise the demons of lust from you. You cannot open your eyes before I say you can. Are you ready and willing to offer your body up as a sacrificial lamb in exchange for absolution?”

“What is going to happen?” Your voice trembled as you once again reminded yourself that you needed to trust the Father. He would take good care of you, as was his duty. He wouldn’t harm one of his flock. Still, the very idea of giving your body as sacrifice terrified you. “Will it hurt?”

“No,” Vox said sweetly, “I promise I will try my best to not cause you any pain.”

“What must I do?” You tried to sound brave, tried to lean on your faith for the strength to get through the unknown trials ahead of you.

“Bend over.” Vox brought your hand to the solid surface of the old wooden desk. “Lay over this. Whatever comes next, know that I am working as an agent of the divine to purge you of these sinful thoughts. You are safe in God’s house. The Devil cannot touch you here.”

“Yes, Father.” You laid across the flat surface. Cold from the wood radiating up into you as you willed your breathing to slow, trying to be calm.

What attempts you made at calming your nerves were undone as a large hand ran along your thigh, moving over the thick fabric of your skirt. You squeezed your eyes closed as the hand moved around your side, caressing up the curve of your ass.

“Have faith,” you whispered to yourself as the hand hooked under the elastic band of your skirt and your panties. “Have faith.”

“Yes,” Vox said above you. “Have faith. This is what must be done to purge you of your sinful thoughts. I must be able to see the areas where you long to feel the touch of sin to purify it.”

“What should I do?” You asked again, not daring to open your eyes.

“Just lay there,” Vox answered. “I will take care of everything.”

He wasn’t surprised in the slightest to see the full coverage, modest panties fall to the ground around your ankles along with your skirt. What did surprise Vox was that your stockings were thigh highs, not tights that would reach up to your waist. A part of you enjoyed the feeling of something scandalous, a little sexy.

You trembled, laying on the desk as your most private place was exposed. “Have faith,” you whispered again and again before whispering prayers. It felt right while you were being prepped for a ceremony that you should pray.

Vox looked at your folds, moist but far from the slick pathway he would need your virginal body to be.

“Stay just like that,” Vox said, running his hands over the naked curve of your ass before leaving you.

Things clattered around you as the Father looked around the room, looking for something. You laid there, listening as you whispered your prayers. Even within the sanctity of the church, you could feel the siren call of lust demanding your attention.

The feeling of the Father’s hand on your skin felt good, and that was sinful. That was why you needed him to purify you. You needed help. He had to help you.

You needed something, though you didn’t understand what it was your body was longing for as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. The change in position stimulated something between your legs, something sinful that had you shifting your weight again, thighs rubbing against each other as you did so.

Vox returned to you, standing back for a moment to just watch as your thighs moved against eachother. From between your puffy folds, he could see the glittering of slick starting to build ever so slightly, reflecting the dim light in the room back at him.

You may have been a pure church girl, but your body responded like the slut you wanted to be. He smiled, knowing you were aroused even if you didn’t understand it at the time.

“Move your feet apart,” Vox ordered, eyes locked on your folds as they spread, exposing your opening more. “Good girl.”

“Please,” you whispered. “I need to be freed from this sin. I- I can feel it calling to me, tempting me even here.”

“Sin cannot reach you here,” Vox said, opening the bottle of anointing oil and sniffing it. There was nothing to the scent that gave him any reason to believe it would sting or burn either your sensitive walls or him. “I am going to anoint you now.”

Cold wetness dripped onto your core, running over folds and down your legs as you jumped. Vox shushed you, offering honeyed words of reassurance as he spread the slick oil over your exposed sex.

The strange sensation wasn’t unpleasant, and that terrified you. You trembled under his touch, body begging you to lean back, to chase the feeling of his hands running along your slick folds.

“Isn’t this a sin?” You struggled to keep your eyes closed, wanting nothing more than to look back at the Father for reassurance.

“It is a blessing,” he said, robes shuffling. “Keep your eyes closed and I’ll save you from the demons of lust.”

“Okay,” you whispered, wanting to believe him. He was a priest. He was a man of God. He wouldn’t hurt you. He wouldn’t cause you to sin.

For a moment, Vox simply stepped back, admiring the view you made while he pulled the robes up, gathering it around his abdomen and tucking the fabric into the back of his pants. He carefully worked his fly down, trying to make as little noise as possible before he returned his hands to you.

He gripped the globes of your ass, spreading you open for a clearer view of your slicked up hole. Fuck, he groaned internally. You looked tight. It would make sense. You were a fucking virgin, unspoiled even by yourself.

Vox looked forward to ruining that.

Vox poured some of the oil onto his shaft, smearing it around and slicking himself up as he watched your legs shake with how badly you wanted to close them. You were such a good girl, listening to him so well.

He would reward you for that obedience. How many times could he bring you to orgasm? Would your body be responsive, or would you fight the pull of pleasure? Vox knew he was going to ensure you at least had one. Sure, this had very little to do with you but he was anything but a selfish lover.

Vox rubbed the blunt tip of his cock through your folds, critical eyes cataloging every reaction of your body. He watched as your muscles tensed as he probed your entrance and jumped under your skin as he nudged your pretty little clit.

The slick oil was far from a perfect lubricant but hopefully, you would soon relace it with your own natural productions. Vox pressed the head of his cock against your opening, parting the walls for the first time with such slowness he would consider it to be care.

“What are you-?!” you gasped, spine pulling tight and lifting your head up off the desk as his bulbus head popped inside of you. The stretch of him burned. Your eyes shot open, though you did everything you could to not look over your shoulder.

Hands rested on your bare hips, holding you in place. It wasn’t needed. You didn’t have anywhere you could have gone with the desk in front of you.

“In order to purify you,” Vox said, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your lower back. “The oil must go inside the core of your lust. It must be placed with something holy.” As he spoke, he sank deeper and deeper into you. The way your body squeezed around him made it hard to think or breathe, but Vox knew he couldn’t afford any mistakes. You had believed everything he had said and he would not fuck it up now. “You understand, don’t you? I’m doing this for you, to save your soul.”

“Yes, Father.” The words tumbled out of your mouth as you felt the front of his pants press into your ass.

The feeling of something inside of you stole your breath away. You felt so full as his seated cock twitched inside you, spreading blessed oil onto your inner walls. Your mind screamed at you that this was wrong, that something was wrong, but you refused to think about that. The burning pleasure of his holy tool pulling from your anointed body was more important.

You expected him to withdraw from you now, having used his most holy tools to anoint you from the inside out. Instead, he pushed inside you again, moving slowly enough that your walls allowed him to drag but not lingering.

“What is happening?” You asked as his hips again nestled against your ass.

“I carry in me the Holy Spirit,” Vox said, thrusting slowly into you again and again, feeling as your body adjusted to the intrusion. “It takes time for me to deposit it within you. Only then will you be pure again of sin, free of the demons of Lust.”

Shudders ran down your body as you struggled with the full feeling of having something inside you. It felt wrong, but not unpleasant. You wanted more of it and for him to stop all at once.

It was alright; you kept telling yourself that again and again. He was a holy man. It wasn’t fornication; it was a ceremony. He wasn’t acting as a man. He was acting as a vessel of the Lord.

You struggled as he pushed into you. You wanted to chase the feelings he was giving you, the sensations whispering of pleasure you could only imagine if you just gave in. Surely, resisting the call of the pleasure was a part of the test.

“Give in,” Vox whispered above you. “Relax. Let it happen.”

“Oh-” your breath hitched, breaking the sound up into a gasp. Confusion warred with the pleasure of the ceremony. “Okay.”

Vox looked down at you, watching as your body shifted up the desk with every slow thrust in. You were so tight wrapped around his cock. Tight, innocent, virginal as you whispered your sweet little prayers, begging for salvation even as he ruined you.

Vox couldn’t help the grin that spread on his face as he slowly picked up his pace. Each thrust into you brought pleasure through you both, stroking nerves that no one had touched before.

As his thrusts came faster, you couldn’t manage to take a full breath. The force of his godly hips hitting your ass knocked the breath from your lings. Each thrust hit you with a spike of pleasure, making your voice jump as he hit something inside you that seemed to act like a wall.

“Oh, ow!” you jerked away from the feeling.

“Shh,” Vox cooed behind you, pushing his cock deep into you, slowly pushing your cervix back to allow him to truly bottom out. Reaching around your hips, he ran his fingers over your oiled folds, searching until he found the nub of your clit. “Just relax. Your body will make room for me, for God. That’s the demon inside you.”

It took everything in Vox to not laugh at the nonsense he was spewing, focusing instead on the way your warm body felt around him.

“The demon?” You whimpered as his cock pushed against that painful thing again.

“Yes,” Vox said as his fingers slipped around your oil coated clit. “Can you feel it?” He knew you could. There was no way your body could lie to him. He felt the way your body clenched when he hit your cervix. He felt the ripples of tensing muscles that irritating the sensitive end of your tunnels caused.

“I can,” you gasped. “It hurts me. Will you chase it away?”

“I will,” Vox promised as he worked his cock into you again and again. “You must submit and let whatever happens happen.”

His body slapped against yours, the sharp edge of the desk cutting into your hips with each thrust. Pain shot up through you as he hit the demon again and again. Along with the pain, pleasure came. You tried to focus on the sensations, the pleasure that the blessing was giving you.

Each thrust into you by the holy tool brought more and more pleasure. “Something’s happening,” you cried out as your muscles tensed. Something inside you felt like it was becoming brittle and ready to break. “Something’s-”

“Let it happen,” Vox said. “It’s alright.”

Your legs spread more, chasing the feeling of the blessing. It felt… so good. That was why this ceremony was a secret. If anyone knew how good it felt, they would think it was sinful.

Vox was more than pleased to watch your feet inch further apart, giving him better access to your clit. That and a small pinch to the sensitive bundle was all it took to have your walls twitching and clamping down around his cock.

“Oh,” Vox moaned, choking off the curse that so badly wanted to tumble from his lips. “That’s it.”

Your fingers dug into the desk as your eyes clamped closed. It felt like the good Father was pulling your body apart, ripping every muscle fiber from another before putting them all back together again.

“Good girl,” Vox whispered, riding the waves of your orgasm, thrusting through the sensitive walls as he waited for their waves of pleasure to calm. “You’re doing so good for me, for your- for our God.”

“Is it- Are we done?” You panted, fingers twitching as his pace slowed. “Is it outside of me?”

“No,” Vox sighed, reaching down and wrapping a large hand around your leg. He lifted it, twisting and rolling your body so that you were spread wide, leg bent and hooked around his torso. Each thrust into you in the new position had his pants rubbing against your sensitive clit as his shaft worked into your tight hole.

“No?” You whimpered, torn. You should have been disappointed, but you were far from it. You wanted the Father to continue his ceremony, working his tool into you repeatedly, giving you such pleasure.

That was the demon talking. You knew that. That’s why you needed him to purify you. Only God’s blessing would save you from the demon within you, trying to pervert a holy ceremony.

“Please,” you whispered, eyes slitting open as you looked at the ceiling. “Please, my God.”

Vox smiled, hand running up your side as he held your leg to his torso. “That’s right, doll.”

You could feel him pushing against nerves you hadn’t realized went untouched before. Each thrust into you stole your breath as you focused on trying to keep your eyes closed. Pleasure had nearly replaced all the pain and discomfort now. Each thrust into you was smooth and filling.

“Oh, God,” you whispered, pleasure building as it had before. You knew now that when it reached its peak, something magical, powerful would happen. Was that something God had given you, something that was a part of the ceremony? Or perhaps it was something you could look forward to sharing when you married and gave your body to your husband.

“Unbutton your shirt,” Vox ordered, struggling to push back his orgasm. He wanted to see you finish at least one more time.

“Why?” Your protest came out more as a sigh than anything else, fingers acting before you had an answer.

“The demon will leave through your skin,” Vox lied, pleased to see you doing as he said without question. The pleasure mixed with your faith, making you the perfect little fuckdoll.

He pushed your shirt back from your body, exposing your white bra. Of course it was simple, covering the whole of your breasts. It was expected though he wished he could have seen them.

All in good time. Perhaps after a second orgasm you’d be fucked too stupid to question why he needed to see your tits. It was just a matter of time. You were already getting there, one orgasm in. Virgins were so fucking easy.

Each thrust pushed you against the desk. Your foot lifted off the floor, the toe of your shoe grazing the hardwood floor as he pushed into you again. A flush rose to your chest and face anew as you caught sight of the man working into you, handsome and unknown.

“Father?” you whispered, watching his eyes leave your exposed sex and run up your body. “I don’t-”

“Shh,” his voice came out soft, reassuring as he rocked his tool into you harder and faster. “You’re doing so good for me, my child.”

“Who-” The tightening in your body stole the ability to question anything. Whatever had happened early was coming dangerously close to happening again.

“Priest,” Vox groaned out the word and by god, you accepted the answer, moaning as his tool twitched inside you. “You’re going to be so pure, so holy.”

The promise of healing, of forgiveness mixed with the promise of pleasure, sending you over the edge once again. Your back arched with the force of the muscle contractions, breasts pushing out as your toes curled in your shoes. Sweet moans flowed from your mouth.

“Oh God,” you cried out as the handsome Father’s fingers dug into your thigh and hips. “Oh God. Bless me.”

“Soon,” Vox whispered. “Soon, my child.”

“More?” You whispered, as his tool twitched strongly inside your clinched walls. “Do we need to go more?”

“Yes,” Vox groaned, watching the way your folds twitched with the power of your internal contractions. Your body was begging him for his seed. “Lay back now.”

Vox helped you roll onto your back, passing your leg to his other side. He guided your other leg up, resting them both on his shoulders. Leaning forward, strong hands ran up your sides as he watched your eyes flutter, settling on him, dazed.

There was nothing he had to fear now. You were far too drunk on his cock to think about what he wore under his robes or why you had never seen him before. He pushed the soft cotton of your bra up, freeing your tits from their confines.

“What-?” The question was little more than a sigh as you watched him reach for a bottle on the side of the desk.

“I need to anoint you,” Vox said, thrusting lazily into you. “Where the demon has wanted you to sin.”

Warmth radiated off the hand he planted on the desk, tempting you to reach out for him. Cold oil splashed as it drizzled on your chest. The tool inside you twitched as a thin stream of oil ran over your breasts.

Vox set the bottle aside, not bothering to put the stopper on before reaching out to you again. His warm hand smeared the slick oil over the mounds of your chest, fingers slipping over your nipples in a futile attempt to pinch the pebbled buds.

You arched into the touch, begging for his blessing. Your hips rocked, forcing him to move inside you, seeking more.

Once your skin was shiny with the oil, dim office lights reflecting off your curves, Vox’s hand returned to your hip. Finally, he began to thrust into you again. He watched, eyes roaming eagerly as he pounded into you with more force than he had before.

Your body jerked harshly on the desk, no longer pinned in place by your legs as his hips crashed into you again and again. Each blow into you pushed against that thing, that sign of the demon inside of you. The pain was less, just as he had promised it would be.

“Bless you,” you gasped as the pleasure of his tool hitting that place outweighed the pain. The demon was being purged from you with each thrust inside of you. “I want to be pure.”

“You will be,” Vox grunted, pushing your legs off his shoulders. He pushed your legs down, causing your heels to click against the wooden floor. “I can see it inside you.”

Vox was talking about the way his cock pressed out against your abdomen, but you, sweet innocent you shuddered, thinking he could see the demon inside of you.

“Please,” you moaned the words. “Please, make me pure, make me holy. Please, I want to be free from sin. Please, Father. Please.”

Your begging was just what Vox wanted to hear. His cock twitched and swelled, threatening to explode within you, but he pushed his orgasm back, focusing on anything else. He threw your legs back over his shoulders and leaned into you.

He nearly folded you in half as the desk groaned under the weight. Dark hair that had once been so perfectly combed back fell into his eyes as he pounded his tool into you. The pleasure was overwhelming, pulling moans from your lips easily.

Your breasts moved with every harsh thrust, tempting Vox to taste the oil he had smeared onto them. Your chants, pleas for your silly God to protect you, to bless you, went on and on as your body tightened. The force of your orgasm choked the words off, throat too tight for them to push through.

“Vox?” The door to the office opened as Father Francis stepped into view.

“Shit,” Vox hissed, jerking back from you just as his cock twitched, ropes of hot seed cascading from his tip as he slipped from your warm, milking embrace.

Vox wrapped his hand around his cock, eyes only darting over his shoulder for a moment before he focused on working his hand quickly over his length. Cum shot out, splattering your folds before he adjusted the angle, salvaging the situation.

“Oh God,” you cried out as his holy spirit landed on your stomach. Ropes of it shot out from his tool, landing on your chest and running down your oil covered breasts.

“What are you doing in here?” Father Francis snapped before remembering himself. Vox was not a man to be fucked with. Certainly, Vox was not a man he could afford to fuck with.

“I was waiting for you to return, Father. Entertaining myself.” Vox said, shrugging his shoulders as he tucked his softening dick into his pants. The sound of his zipper being pulled up was deafening in the small office.

You rose up on your elbows, looking to Father Francis and the new Father with wide eyes.

“Father Francis,” you said. “The new Father- he was helping rid me of…” your words trailed off as the new Father reached behind him, pulling the robes off and tossing them aside without a care.” Rid me of the demon of… Of lust..”

“He’s no Father.” Father Frances said, handing the other man an envelope and ordering, “You need to leave.”

“Don’t keep me waiting next time,” Vox said, winking over his shoulder at you as you scrambled to cover your body, pulling your shirt across your breasts and pulling your knees up to your chest.

Panic ran through your veins like cold ice as you realized the man you had been with was no priest. The world wavered as tears welled in your eyes. He was no man of god; he was a demon personified and you? You were nothing more than a dirty sinner.

Fornication was your crime.

Father Francis watched Vox walk away as if he hadn’t potentially ruined someone’s life before looking back at you. It didn’t surprise him in the least that you had fallen for the charming lies; you were innocent as could be.

“You are not guilty of the sins another enacted upon you. Our Lord forgives you for anything he may have led you to do. Go… Go clean yourself up.” Father Francis turned on his heel, walking out of his office as tears ran down your face.

You were dirty, defiled. He had stolen your purity from you. God had let him take from you within his own house. You felt betrayed and worthless. The emptiness within you was crushing as you pulled your bra down over your breasts.

It was on that day that you came face to face with the demon of lust in the church. You had been too weak to resist the temptation. You had lost the battle that day, but you walked out of the church with a renewed determination to live your life godly, sinless.

Though you had the holiest of intentions, in the darkness of night, your hand crept up your thighs as you remembered what it felt like to be taken by the demon of lust.

Thank you for joining us for Smutmas 2024! This year, smutmas was a colab between @redvexillumRedVexi and I with prompts provided by @nyx-umbrakinesisNyx. Together we make up the admin team of VoxTek Inc on Discord. We thank you for letting us smut up your holidays.

Nyx, Thank you for the prompts- We've had a blast perverting them, twisting them at times so out of shape they hardly look like what you expected.

If YOU would like your own prompts, reach out to Nyx either here on tumblr or join VoxTek and hit up the Prompt Goddess there!

#DRP Smutmas 2024 #vox x readaer #vox x you #vox x y/n #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin vox x you #hazbin vox x y/n #hazbin vox smut #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x you #human vox x you #human vox x reader #human vox x y/n

64 notes · View notes

yanderecrazysie · 2 years ago

Note

Hello there, I just read that you do ouran high school host club yandere request. I just love that anime it reminds me of my childhood. And I love your work too especially the angsty cheater ones, they’re my favorites.

So actually going to the request: Yandere Tamaki x fiancé reader but Tamaki is neglectful of them and cheats on them with Haru (angst heaven). Basically Tamaki and Reader where engaged when they were children by their wealthy parents . Tamaki hated this and by extension he hated the reader too. Despite the reader trying to be to be the perfect fiancé and supports him from the sidelines, the reader even make sure that the mansion runs smoothly and even learned how to cook his favorite food and cater to his whims. Tamaki still being blinded by his distaste for the arrange marriage carelessly ignores all of reader’s hardwork and flirts with every woman in the host club. Then comes Haru and Tamaki just falls in love and in the back of his head, what better way to get back at his father than to marry a commoner. Reader finally having enough of Tamaki’s cheating and intentionally humiliating them in public, rebels against their parents and cancel the engagement. The reader just leaves Tamaki behind and goes into the countryside to live a peaceful life.. but surprised Tamaki goes full on delusional Yandere, he misses the reader’s devotion to him and wants to continue on with the marriage. When reader left Tamaki felt empty and he started to realize his mistake, He tracks reader down to beg for their forgiveness and so that they can get married as intended. Tamaki still think of you as his fiancé and he doesn’t realize that reader doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

Sorry for the long request, I just got excited when I found out that you write for Ouran High school host club. Thanks for reading!

My first OHSHC request!! Yay!! And it's okay, it’s always nice to have a good plot to work with!

Title: Blind

Pairings: Tamaki Suoh x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes

Summary: Tamaki’s behavior proves too much for his fiance.

Part 2: here

blind

/verb/

deprive (someone) of understanding, judgment, or perception:

Sometimes, you wished Tamaki would just open up his eyes and see you. You, and not the engagement your families had forced upon you both.

You could tell from day one that Tamaki hated the idea and, subsequently, hated you for representing the ball and chain that attached itself to his ankle. You couldn’t blame him for being angry that his future freedom had been taken away, but you wished he wouldn’t blame you for it.

You weren’t much happier than him at first, but you decided to make the best of it. Tamaki was handsome, you could even appreciate that when you both were children forced to play together. He also had a soft side that you rarely got to see under all the silly dramatics. If only you could unlock that part of him, surely you both could be happy!

Then the host club started.

It’s easy to smile and say that you aren’t bothered, but it’s another thing to actually not be bothered with your fiance flirting with girls all the time. You could never help the twisting of jealousy in your gut anytime you heard or saw anything to do with the host club.

You’d tried to visit before. Make the best of things. But he’d blacklisted you as a customer, said with a careless tone that maybe you’d prefer one of the other boys. That stung.

“Make the best of it” became a mantra in your head, a desperate goal and coping method all in one. Eventually, Tamaki would either come to love you or accept that his future was predetermined by a piece of paper with his father’s signature.

Did you want a potentially loveless marriage? No, of course not. But that’s what happened to most people of your stature, so it wasn’t a surprise. If you could just make the best of your situation, you could be happy. Probably.

The changes in Tamaki really started when a new boy joined the club. You could tell right away that he was naturally a girl, but wouldn’t out him to the school if that’s what he chose as his path. You began to suspect that Tamaki knew this truth as well, because he always seemed so flustered around the boy.

Haruhi. You numbly repeated his name in your head. Even in the beginning, you knew, this relationship would be the downfall of your own.

Numbness overtook you as you caught the pair kissing and holding hands, looking happy and carefree, even outside of the club where there were no requirements for them to act like a cute couple or something.

They were trying to be secretive and, at first, you wondered how you were the only one catching them in the act. Then, it hit you like a speeding train.

Tamaki wanted you to see.

Your daily trips to the mansion were mostly in lonely silence. You cleaned the place like his maids probably should, made him his favorite meals, ran hot baths for him, and sometimes left him notes around the house to boost his self-esteem and cheer him up.

As time went on, it began to feel like empty actions. Duties without reward or even so much as acknowledgment. Things you did just because that tiny voice still cried “Make the best of everything!”

Well, you were getting sick of that voice. That hapless fool inside your head that didn’t seem to realize that things were speeding out of control. How could you make the best of anything, when he continually gave you nothing to work with.

You cried as you did those little things- what had once felt like happy little jobs became heavy chores that you couldn’t figure out why you continued. The tears blurred your eyes as you made each gift for Tamaki- gifts that would no doubt be cast aside and forgotten.

What was the point?

When Tamaki called a crowd together in the school’s entrance hall, standing atop one of the highest steps with his hands intertwined with Haruhi, you knew it was all over.

“Haruhi is actually a girl- and she and I have started dating!” His eyes seemed to dart to yours to gauge your reaction, but you didn’t dare show anything on your face. You were still a regal person, determined to not put your family’s name to shame.

“What? Is that true, Haruhi?” One of the girls in the crowd shrieked.

You didn’t need Haruhi’s answer nor the shy smile on her face to confirm the truth. You’d already known well before that this was the future you’d been helplessly barreling towards.

The crowd had mixed reactions. Some people were supportive and found the couple cute, others were jealous of Haruhi, and many people were confused on the whole matter. Those were the ones whose words shot like daggers into your heart.

“Doesn’t Tamaki have a fiance?”

“What will his father think?”

“Does that mean his engagement is canceled?”

Struggling not to break down, you pushed your way through the crowd, looking for an escape. The crowd was too thick and it was quickly too late.

You broke down crying, your large tears blinding you as little hiccups left your lips. Finally, the sea of people parted and you ran through it. You risked one look at Tamaki and were upset to see him looking concerned. How dare he be concerned when he was the one that hurt you?

You skipped your classes, opting instead to head straight home and confront your parents. The moment you were in front of them both, you broke down once more. They wanted to know who’d hurt you right away and, when your story of Tamaki was revealed, they vowed to rip the contract into little pieces.

They let you stay home the next few days. If you could, you’d stay home forever. How could you show your face after you’d been humiliated and cried like that in front of everyone?

You focused your thoughts and feelings into gardening. Today you cut the stems of flowers and placing them into your basket before bringing them up to the house. The chores you did were fit for the family’s gardener, but he was on vacation and you needed something to distract yourself with.

You heard your name called. Furrowing your brow, you raised your head and shielded your eyes against the sun. Was that…?

It was, a certain blonde boy was speeding towards you at the speed of light. Had he jumped the tall fence or broken the gate’s lock? Either method was concerning, to say the least.

You let out a feeble “hey!” when he kicked up some of the flowers in his path to you, but you were more afraid of what he had to say than of losing a couple of flowers.

Finally, he stopped in front of you and dropped to his knees. You stood, watching in shock as he kneeled in the dirt, in a motion that you’d expect a man begging the queen to spare his life.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/n). I- I was so stupid, so blind! I didn’t know how much I’d miss you when you were gone. Please come back, please! I’ll do anything!”

You stared at him in shock, “What about Haruhi?”

The man raised his head, his eyes glazed over as they met yours, “I took care of her.”

It wasn’t so much the words he said, as it was the chilling, lifeless tone in which he said it. You took a step back, nearly tripping over the small mound of dirt behind you.

“What did you do to her?” Your voice came out shaky and unsure. Tamaki would never hurt someone, would he? That thought was laughable, wasn’t it?

Tamaki grasped your ankles and began to cry, looking more pathetic than you could have ever imagined him. You never thought that Tamaki would ever beg on his knees to anyone, much less you.

“I’ll do anything.” Tamaki murmured. Somehow you knew.

He would definitely hurt someone, if they got in his way.

#yandere #yandere one shot #yandere x reader #one shot #yandere ouran host club #yandere ohshc #ouran high school host club #yandere tamaki #tamaki suoh

599 notes · View notes