#and returning to normal life after that….

[dostoyevsky-official]

Last August, Lucy Letby, a thirty-three-year-old British nurse, was convicted of killing seven newborn babies and attempting to kill six others. Her murder trial, one of the longest in English history, lasted more than ten months and captivated the United Kingdom. The Guardian, which published more than a hundred stories about the case, called her “one of the most notorious female murderers of the last century.” The collective acceptance of her guilt was absolute. “She has thrown open the door to Hell,” the Daily Mail wrote, “and the stench of evil overwhelms us all.”

The case galvanized the British government. The Health Secretary immediately announced an inquiry to examine how Letby’s hospital had failed to protect babies. After Letby refused to attend her sentencing hearing, the Justice Secretary said that he’d work to change the law so that defendants would be required to go to court to be sentenced. Rishi Sunak, the Prime Minister, said, “It’s cowardly that people who commit such horrendous crimes do not face their victims.”

The public conversation rushed forward without much curiosity about an incongruous aspect of the story: Letby appeared to have been a psychologically healthy and happy person. She had many close friends. Her nursing colleagues spoke highly of her care and dedication. A detective with the Cheshire police, which led the investigation, said, “This is completely unprecedented in that there doesn’t seem to be anything to say” about why Letby would kill babies. “There isn’t really anything we have found in her background that’s anything other than normal.”

The judge in her case, James Goss, acknowledged that Letby appeared to have been a “very conscientious, hard working, knowledgeable, confident and professional nurse.” But he also said that she had embarked on a “calculated and cynical campaign of child murder,” and he sentenced her to life, making her only the fourth woman in U.K. history condemned to die in prison.

[...] The N.H.S. has a totemic status in the British psyche—it’s the “closest thing the English have to a religion,” as one politician has put it. One of the last remnants of the postwar social contract, it inspires loyalty and awe even as it has increasingly broken down, partly as a result of years of underfunding. In 2015, the infant-mortality rate in England and Wales rose for the first time in a century. A survey found that two-thirds of the country’s neonatal units did not have enough medical and nursing staff.

[...] A woman came to the hospital after her water broke. She was sent home and told to wait. More than twenty-four hours later, she noticed that the baby was making fewer movements inside her. “I was concerned for infection because I hadn’t been given any antibiotics,” she said later. She returned to the hospital, but she still wasn’t given antibiotics. She felt “forgotten by the staff, really,” she said. Sixty hours after her water broke, she had a C-section. The baby, a girl who was dusky and limp when she was born, should have been treated with antibiotics immediately, doctors later acknowledged, but nearly four hours passed before she was given the medication. The next night, the baby’s oxygen alarm went off. “Called Staff Nurse Letby to help,” a nurse wrote. The baby continued to deteriorate throughout the night and could not be revived. A pathologist found pneumonia in the baby’s lungs and wrote that the infection was likely present at birth.

[...] A team from the Royal College of Paediatrics and Child Health spent two days interviewing people at the Countess [Letby's hospital]. They found that nursing- and medical-staffing levels were inadequate. They also noted that the increased mortality rate in 2015 was not restricted to the neonatal unit. Stillbirths on the maternity ward were elevated, too. [...] The Royal College could find no obvious factors linking the deaths; the report noted that the circumstances on the unit were “not materially different from those which might be found in many other neonatal units within the UK.”

[...] In September, 2022, a month before Letby’s trial began, the Royal Statistical Society published a report titled “Healthcare Serial Killer or Coincidence?” The report had been prompted in part by concerns about two recent cases, one in Italy and one in the Netherlands, in which nurses had been wrongly convicted of murder largely because of a striking association between their shift patterns and the deaths on their wards. The society sent the report to both the Letby prosecution and the defense team. It detailed the dangers of drawing causal conclusions from improbable clusters of events. In the trial of the Dutch nurse, Lucia de Berk, a criminologist had calculated that there was a one-in-three-hundred-and-forty-two-million chance that the deaths were coincidental. But his methodology was faulty; when statisticians looked at the data, they found that the chances were closer to one in fifty.

[...] “Looking for a responsible human—this is what the police are good at,” Schafer [a law professor at the University of Edinburgh who studies the intersection of law and science] told me. “What is not in the police’s remit is finding a systemic problem in an organization like the National Health Service, after decades of underfunding, where you have overworked people cutting little corners with very vulnerable babies who are already in a risk category. It is much more satisfying to say there was a bad person, there was a criminal, than to deal with the outcome of government policy.”

[...] Several months into the trial, Richard Gill, an emeritus professor of mathematics at Leiden University, in the Netherlands, began writing online about his concerns regarding the case. Gill was one of the authors of the Royal Statistical Society report, and in 2006 he had testified before a committee tasked with determining whether to reopen the case of Lucia de Berk. England has strict contempt-of-court laws that prevent the publication of any material that could prejudice legal proceedings. Gill posted a link to a Web site, created by Sarrita Adams, a scientific consultant in California, that detailed flaws in the prosecution’s medical evidence. In July, a detective with the Cheshire police sent letters to Gill and Adams ordering them to stop writing about the case. “The publication of this material puts you at risk of ‘serious consequences’ (which include a sentence of imprisonment),” the letters said. “If you come within the jurisdiction of the court, you may be liable to arrest.”

Letby is housed in a privately run prison west of London, the largest correctional facility for women in Europe. Letters to prisoners are screened, and I don’t know if several letters that I sent ever reached her. One of her lawyers, Richard Thomas, who has represented her since early in the case, said that he would tell Letby that I had been in touch with him, but he ignored my request to share a message with her, instead reminding me of the contempt-of-court order. He told me, “I cannot give any comment on why you cannot communicate” with Letby. Lawyers in England can be sanctioned for making remarks that would undermine confidence in the judicial system. I sent Myers, Letby’s barrister, several messages in the course of nine months, and he always responded with some version of an apology—“the brevity of this response is not intended to be rude in any way”—before saying that he could not talk to me.

[...] Michael Hall, the defense expert, had expected to testify at the trial—he was prepared to point to flaws in the prosecution’s theory of air embolism and to undetected signs of illness in the babies—but he was never called. He was troubled that the trial largely excluded evidence about the treatment of the babies’ mothers; their medical care is inextricably linked to the health of their babies. In the past ten years, the U.K. has had four highly publicized maternity scandals, in which failures of care and supervision led to a large number of newborn deaths.

[...] Johnson, the prosecutor, pushed her to come up with her own explanation for each baby’s deterioration. Yet she wasn’t qualified to provide them. “In general, I don’t think a lot of the babies were cared for on the unit properly,” she offered. “I’m not a medical professional to know exactly what should and shouldn’t have happened with those babies.”

“Do you agree that if certain combinations of these children were attacked then unless there was more than one person attacking them, you have to be the attacker?” Johnson asked at one point.

“No.”

“You don’t agree?”

“No. I’ve not attacked any children.”

Johnson continued, “But if the jury conclude that a certain combination of children were actually attacked by someone, then the shift pattern gives us the answer as to who the attacker was, doesn’t it?”

“No, I don’t agree.”

“You don’t agree. Why don’t you agree?”

“Because just because I was on shift doesn’t mean that I have done anything.”

[...] After a few days of cross-examination, Letby seemed to shut down; she started frequently giving one-word answers, almost whispering. “I’m finding it quite hard to concentrate,” she said.

Johnson repeatedly accused her of lying. “You are a very calculating woman, aren’t you, Lucy Letby?” he said.

“No,” she replied.

He asked, “The reason you tell lies is to try to get sympathy from people, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“You try to get attention from people, don’t you?”

“No.”

“In killing these children, you got quite a lot of attention, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t kill the children.”

[...] Toward the end of the trial, the court received an e-mail from someone who claimed to have overheard one of the jurors at a café saying that jurors had “already made up their minds about her case from the start.” Goss reviewed the complaint but ultimately allowed the juror to continue serving.

He instructed the twelve members of the jury that they could find Letby guilty even if they weren’t “sure of the precise harmful act” she’d committed. [...] The jury deliberated for thirteen days but could not reach a unanimous decision. In early August, one juror dropped out. A few days later, Goss told the jury that he would accept a 10–1 majority verdict.

[...] The public conversation about the case seemed to treat details about poor care on the unit as if they were irrelevant. In his closing statement, Johnson had accused the defense of “gaslighting” the jury by suggesting that the problem was the hospital, not Letby. Defending himself against the accusation, Myers told the jury, “It’s important I make it plain that in no way is this case about the N.H.S. in general.” He assured the jury, “We all feel strongly about the N.H.S. and we are protective of it.” It seemed easier to accept the idea of a sadistic “angel of death” than to look squarely at the fact that families who had trusted the N.H.S. had been betrayed, their faith misplaced.

Since the verdicts, there has been almost no room for critical reflection. At the end of September, a little more than a month after the trial ended, the prosecution announced that it would retry Letby on one of the attempted-murder charges, and a new round of reporting restrictions was promptly put in place. The contempt-of-court rules are intended to preserve the integrity of the legal proceedings, but they also have the effect of suppressing commentary that questions the state’s decisions. In October, The BMJ, the country’s leading medical journal, published a comment from a retired British doctor cautioning against a “fixed view of certainty that justice has been done.” In light of the new reporting restrictions, the journal removed the comment from its Web site, “for legal reasons.” At least six other editorials and comments, which did not question Letby’s guilt, remain on the site.

it looks like a british nurse was wrongfully convicted based on poor evidence and the tabloid media environment. this new yorker article is embargoed in the uk!

[jinwoosungs]

{ 167 }

peaches.

husband!jinwoo sung x wife!fem.reader

{ i get the feeling, so i'm sure | hand in my hand because i'm yours | i can't, i can't pretend, i can't ignore you're right for me | don't think you wanna know just where i’ve been, oh… }

when you first married your husband all those years ago, you didn’t think that your life would turn into something extraordinary-

almost too extraordinary.

of course, jinwoo sung had always been the sweetest, most kindest man alive. upon meeting you in college, he had stolen your heart with that mysterious smile and strange, glowing eyes of his. the way his soft ebony locks of hair fell across his features along with the way his full lips was turned up in a sheepish grin was enough to steal your heart instantly.

when the man began courting you was when you realized that your lover could do things that many normal people couldn’t do.

for starters, he had a strange, dark aura that constantly surrounded him. those wispy shadows would catch your attention, and before your gaze could follow them for too long, jinwoo would grab your chin and distract you with a kiss-

(which unfortunately for you, worked every time.)

the more you spent your time with him, the more you began to realize that those same wisps that exuded from his form would ultimately surround you as well. you recall the first night you had seen them after working a late shift at the diner that was your job during that time. once you had clocked out and stepped into the cold, night air, you swore you saw something shift within your shadow. curious as to what it was, you step closer to one of the streetlights, hoping that it would further accentuate your shadow-

only to nearly scream when you saw what looked like five pairs of glowing, purple eyes looking back at you. after the realization, you gasped and took a step back, suddenly finding yourself in someone’s arms, jinwoo’s happy voice whispering within your ear.

“hello, my beloved treasure. are you ready to go home?”

your head was spinning, looking at him, then back at your shadow to see it return back to its slender shape, glowing eyes all gone as your head began to spin. swallowing thickly, you turn around to hide your face within his chest.

“hm, what’s wrong, sarang?”

“it’s nothing.”

maybe you were just tired, that’s all. you didn’t want to worry jinwoo and tell him how you saw glowing, purple eyes staring back at you.

perhaps you should take his advice and stop working such late shifts after all?

instead, you ignored those feelings of suspicion, simply cuddling closer to jinwoo as he walked back with you to your shared apartment (completely missing his sigh of relief when you didn’t bring up his soldiers seen in your shadow.)

you didn’t know why you ignored all the strangeness surrounding your beloved boyfriend, but perhaps it was due to the fact that he was such a walking green flag that you truly didn’t care nor mind.

ultimately, he was the best thing that ever happened to you, and who were you to give him up so easily?

after years spent dating, jinwoo finally proposes to you at the ripe age of 27, with you accepting his proposal within seconds. you recall basking in his sweet kisses before proceeding to make love with him the night of his proposal, further cementing your promises of forever with him.

after your marriage, you didn’t think of such weirdness ever again… choosing to simply ignore the shadowy wisps as you correctly guessed that they were meant to protect you-

however, it all reached a boiling point when your son, suho, reached his first birthday and began floating across the dining room table. your eyes go wide, seeing him glowing as the shadowy wisps surrounded your baby boy. he had gotten upset when you didn’t let him eat his birthday cake. one moment you were telling suho to wait for his papa, and the next he was floating above you with pieces of his cake clutched tightly within his tiny grasps.

jinwoo told you he had some work to do at the station, but you were too panicked to wait for him to come home tonight. in your anxious state, you called him right away, feeling grateful that he answers on the second ring.

“hello love-“

“jinwoo…! suho is… he’s floating and the shadows are trying to help him down… but he’s not coming down!”

you follow your child in hopes of catching him if he ever decided to come down, hearing jinwoo shift around a bit on the other line.

“don’t worry, sarang… i told you that i know how to fly, too, right?” amusement was heard in his voice, and you felt a sense of pure annoyance flooding your veins.

“you most certainly have not told me such things! and i expect a full explanation when you come home!”

“wait, my love-“

“and i mean everything, jinwoo sung!”

you hang up the call quickly, watching as suho took a nose dive back into your arms. filled with a sense of relief, you felt your son smear his cake all over your blouse and take a step back-

only to detect the faint scent of your husband’s cologne as his powerful arms were felt wrapped around you.

“how do you manage to do that?” you hiss at him, eyes weakly glaring at him when he holds you even tighter to his chest. again, he had appeared when you needed him the most.

“later, my love… i’ll tell you later… first, let’s celebrate our suho’s precious birthday.”

“bah!!!” suho’s eager cries for his father makes your heart melt, easing your anger just the tiniest bit. you pout while transferring suho into jinwoo’s arms, snickering when your son manages to smear even more bits of frosting and cake against his turtleneck sweater.

the next few hours were spent with you finishing up dinner and celebrating suho’s first birthday with his lopsided cake. never wishing to remain too far away from you or suho, jinwoo settles your form on his lap while you held on to suho, cleaning the crumbs of his cake off of his mouth as your husband cuddled close to you and your son.

when nightfall came and jinwoo helped put suho to bed in his crib, you stayed close by with your arms crossed over your chest. when he shuts suho’s door, his solemn, grey eyes meet with your gaze. you gesture at him to follow you out into the balcony, and he does so while wrapping a hand around your waist.

you slide open the glass door and close it, speaking in hushed tones so as to not disturb your neighbors. “i turned a blind eye to many things when it comes to you jinwoo… solely because i love you so damn much.”

he hums, holding you tightly in his embrace while momentarily looking at the skies.

“from shadows that seem to surround me to your strange glowing eyes-“

“we have a history together, my love.” jinwoo interrupts you, not looking away from the sky.

his words make you look up at him. “obviously, we do. we’ve been together since the start of college.”

“no… before that. way before that.”

taking advantage of his strength, he turns you around so that you were now facing him. his eyes glow that same, startling hue as his hands gripped at your shoulders tightly. “if you wish to know the truth, the whole truth, then say the word. i’m no longer the coward i once was… i’m certain i can keep you by my side regardless of what happens.”

you let out a shaky breath before giving him a nod as your final answer.

he brings you closer to him now, surrounding you within his powerful embrace as he kisses you fully on the lips. the shadows dance around you once more, as you saw a faint glow surrounding your form from beneath your closed eyelids-

and that single action alone was enough to pull the curtain away from your very memories.

there were gates and hunters… monarchs and monsters that threatened to destroy all of humanity…

and there was you and jinwoo…

a hunter with his healer…

all at once, you felt your vivid memories returning back to you, the onslaught of visions being too much to bear that you had a hard time discerning all of them. you end up falling against jinwoo, his arms being wrapped around you in a comforting manner as he prevented you from slumping against the ground.

your head was pounding, yet despite the pain, you manage to look up at him, seeing jinwoo with his eyes clenched shut as tears streamed down his face.

“i’ve been so alone- i’ve kept this burden of mine a secret for so long, and this may be selfish of me, but- i’m truly so happy that you know.”

you shake your head and push through the pain, leaning up to kiss him deeply as he delves his fingers into your hair. as the full moon shone brightly against your entangled forms, you knew that jinwoo had always been your soulmate from the start.

as you spend the following years in marital bliss, you gave suho a little sister named sera, a precious little girl who held both yours and jinwoo’s features while having your eyes. even at such a young age, suho swore to protect his little sister while allowing jinwoo’s shadow soldiers to surround both of them.

yet there was a growing concern between you and jinwoo when it came to your children. after all, jinwoo wanted both suho and sera to live a relatively normal and peaceful life, forcing him to lock away their memories pertaining to the powerful nature of their father (a power that they were sure to inherit someday.)

after jinwoo had erased your children’s memories, you spent the night in your children’s room comforting them, with beru crying while clutching on tightly to suho’s drawing depicting beru holding hands with both him and sera. as the former ant king leaves the room, you whisper to jinwoo.

“will you leave them in the dark forever?”

he shakes his head, bringing you into his embrace while pressing a kiss against your hair. “no, not forever. they’re both still too young… and i’d like to give the fruits of our love some happiness… after all, being children of the shadow monarch is no easy burden to bear…”

you hum in agreement, moving your head so that you could meet his lips in a searing kiss. regardless of what the future would bring, you swore to always remain by jinwoo’s side, all while protecting and raising your children…

“mom, if you keep cutting the cucumbers too much, it’ll be like baby food.”

you snap out of your reveries just then, looking down to see a 10-year old sera looking up at you with an innocent expression. you giggle and pick up the slender girl, allowing her to sit on the counter as you placed the cut cucumbers into a bowl for tonight’s kimchi.

“thank you for helping your mama.” you smile and brush your lips against your daughter’s forehead, earning a giggle from her.

“mama, where’s oppa…? it’s getting late.”

you purse your lips, looking up at the clock to see that it was 6:45pm… sera was right. usually suho would come home from school at around 3pm with your husband joining later around 8 to 9pm.

“my queen, do not fret, for your husband and young monarch are here…” tusk whispers in your ear, making your eyes widen in response.

as if on cue, the door was heard opening, with jinwoo carrying an unconscious suho in his arms.

“oppa!” sera calls out to her brother, jumping off the counter to meet with her father, “papa, is he okay? is oppa hurt?!”

jinwoo chuckles, ruffling his daughter’s hair with a fondness. “your oppa is fine, he just has a little headache. how about you keep him company until he feels better?”

sera gives him a determined nod, following jinwoo into suho’s room when you decide to put all of the ingredients for tonight’s dinner back into the fridge.

after all, jinwoo had a lot of explaining to do.

while waiting for jinwoo’s return, you poured him an ice cold glass of lemonade, filling it to the brim and offering it to him when you felt his arms suddenly encircle around your waist a couple of minutes later.

“thanks, honey…”

you face him, watching him drain the entire glass within seconds.

“where’s sera?”

“staying by her brother’s side until he wakes up. i told her to keep a close watch on him, he should feel better when dinner’s ready.”

you nod and lean against the kitchen sink. “and… just what did you do?”

you take a moment to admire him, feeling a sense of womanly pride filling you at the fact that he was your husband. despite how it was clear that jinwoo had aged, with slight wrinkles against the corner of his eyes and corner of his lips, he still looked as handsome as the day you first met him-

perhaps even handsomer than before.

settling the empty glass to the side, he wraps his arms around your back. “i was testing him, to see if he was ready to fully inherit my abilities. i even made a system for him to help level up as well.”

you hum and sway back and forth in his arms. “and…?”

jinwoo scoffs, “he is far from ready… filled with overconfidence and a cockiness that’s seen in all teenagers his age. suho has been too spoiled, never once facing the dangers or the fear of death… and such inexperience could lead to his downfall.”

your husband’s words manage to earn a laugh from you. “weren’t you just as cocky back then, too?”

jinwoo rolls his eyes, playfully taking your hand before gently biting down against your fingertip. “there’s a difference between fighting to protect what matters and when to stop when victory cannot be achieved. suho has yet to learn that."

he sighs when he sees the concerned look in your eyes, bringing you closer to him as he presses a lingering kiss against your forehead. “i just want him to be able to protect himself and sera if anything were to happen to us… and at the moment, he’s not ready to receive the full gift of my powers just yet.”

you let out a hum and rest your head against his chest. “our babies are growing up so fast… it’s crazy how far our family has come. i trust you and your judgement, jinwoo. because regardless… i’m so happy that i was able to be the mother of your children.”

“and you have no idea how happy i am to be the father of your children.”

after spending a few extra moments sharing kisses, jinwoo smiles down at you while framing at your face with his two hands.

“how about we order some fried chicken with all of our children’s favorite side dishes… as a treat and an apology for scaring our son?”

you giggle and roll your eyes at your husband and his playful smile, feeling your heart become alight with pure love for him-

praying that such bliss with him and your precious kids will last for forever and a day…

{ done being distracted | the one i need is right in my arms | your kisses taste the sweetest with mine | and i’ll be right here with you 'til end of time. }

a.n. - i was so desperate to write for hubby!jinwoo, and i’m so happy at how this turned out 🥹 i apologize for any errors, since i wish to get this posted asap!

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[changbunnies]

Coy, (18+)

♡ Pairing: Inexperienced!Bang Chan x Experienced Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: fluff and smut with a lil plot :)

♡ Word Count: 7.7k

♡ Summary: What occurs when joking about sex with your roommate leads to a shocking discovery about his lack of experience in the bedroom. 

♡ Smut Warnings: not intended to have overt dom/sub dynamics but you can infer vibes if you want lol, chan is rlly insecure but reader is here to help!!, nipple play, handjob, oral (m rec), fingering (f rec), protected piv

♡ Notes: hey yall, i wanted to write something small and fun before my next big fic so here we are :’) honestly i was torn between writing this for chan or bin and ended up choosing chan but lmk if you'd want to see a fic like this for binnie! i went super perfectionist mode and rewrote this several times…. like at least 7 fsdgdsfg but i don't want it in my drafts anymore !! just take it !!

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

All you said was a lighthearted joke- something said in jest to make your roommate-turned-best friend’s face flush red and burn all the way to the tips of his ears.

That was always the reaction Chan had when you brought up having had sex, you noticed; cheeks flushed red, eyes darting away from yours to look anywhere else, thumbs nervously twiddling where his hands rested in his lap. You assumed he had plenty of experience, but was more of a “heat of the moment” kind of guy- where you imagined he’d be confident and sure of himself with his partner, but talking about sex outside of the moment turned him into a shy, stuttering mess. 

And it’s not that you purposely went out of your way to imagine what Chan was like during sex, but your mind would often wander there on its own. He was attractive, to put it lightly- devoted to fine-tuning his muscles with diligently followed routines and strictly maintained effort. You were witness to his toned body on more than one occasion, as he often wandered around the apartment shirtless while having just woken up or doing his laundry.

It was a treat for the eyes for sure, but you were respectful. You never drooled over him- at least not anywhere but in the privacy of your bedroom. But it wasn’t just his body that you adored; he had the absolute cutest smile you’d ever seen, eyes crinkling into the prettiest crescent moons as dimples showed on his cheeks. You loved his fluffy, natural hair, and the deep brown color of his eyes, and the way warmth radiated off him when he pulled you into a hug.

So maybe you have a crush on him- but you aren’t going to act on it. You live together in a careful balance, in which you are close enough to him to become good friends while also hiding your attraction to him to maintain the peace. God forbid he doesn't return your attraction, or he does and down the line it makes things complicated. The last thing you need is to scramble for a new place to live after things between you don’t work out- you’d never be able to afford it, and you’ll gladly swallow your feelings for home security. 

But just because you couldn’t have sex with Chan, didn’t mean you couldn’t talk about it with him.

Chan is shy- that much you knew for certain. And sex, while a natural and fun part of life, is something that some people are embarrassed to be open about despite the normality. That's what you saw Chan as; a shy, easily embarrassed person. You thought it was so cute, and just a teensy bit funny; and with all that in mind, it was fun to tease him- to watch his eyes widen in surprise before he let out an awkward cough and looked away, hoping to hide the red forming on his cheeks.

So today, after bringing up how your last date ended, and seeing how brightly Chan’s face burned when you talked about the way they touched you, you couldn’t help but joke around with him. “Oh, c’mon Channie, don’t be coy. I know you’re drowning in pussy when I’m not here,” you teased him with a smirk. Considering your crush on him, you didn’t like to think about it too hard, but you did believe it- surely he brings people back to the apartment while you’re out on your dates.

“O-Oh, no, I’m not- I don’t-” he started to stutter out, and you giggled, because really, how could you believe anything else? He’s perfect- intelligent, funny, talented, as adorable as he is devastatingly hot; obviously he can get whoever he wants, and you believe he does- because Chan is certainly a fucking catch. But still, he continues to stammer and shake his head, blush spreading down his neck as he refutes your statement.

He isn’t a virgin, you have that much right; but he also isn’t some smooth operator hitting hookups with the classic “my roommate isn’t home 👀” text like you seem to think. He doesn’t even know why you think he’s secretly so cool- he’s only ever shown you the most embarrassing version of himself, much to his own chagrin. He’d like to be the person you think he is, but that’s simply not reality.

And as your giggling comes to a stop, and you really look at Chan and take in his expression, you can tell- he's being serious. "Oh," you blink in surprise, smacked with the realization that all your assumptions about him may have been entirely off base.

You frown, wondering if you've actually been making him uncomfortable this entire time. It was always meant to be in good fun, as you thought his bashful reactions were incredibly cute and endearing; but now you realize the truth. Chan isn’t shy about sex because he’s a private person- he’s shy about sex because he isn't having any.

Suddenly, you feel really embarrassed about all the times you talked about yourself; maybe it's karma for all the times you've subtly teased him. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable or crossed a line or anything, I didn't mean to, really-" You start to apologize, but Chan interjects, quickly shaking his head.

"N-No, no, you're fine! I just, uh-" he nervously stumbles on his words again, not even sure what he’s doing at this point. He doesn't even know why he refuted your joke so strongly- sure, it wasn’t true, but wouldn’t it be better for him if you believed it? 

Chan likes you- like, really likes you; but he can't imagine someone as experienced and confident as you will go for a guy like him. Because while he isn't a virgin, his past experiences have been woefully cringe-inducing to even recall.

He was always so eager and clumsy, with trembling hands and face so red he was sure he looked like a tomato. He was embarrassingly sensitive, every touch feeling so overwhelmingly good that he could hardly contain all the noises threatening to leave his throat. He came so fast that he didn’t even know what to do with himself when it was all said and done, hiding his face beneath his arm while he muttered a string of low apologies. 

And subjecting you to all of that? No thanks, falling off the face of the earth would be more preferable. You're the most sex positive person he's ever met, and you won’t make fun of him, he logically knows, but there’s part of him that fears it anyways. On top of that, apparently you had an extremely positive perception of his skills, and now he's ruined it.

While he's unsure what about him led you to believe he's desirable enough to have people biting at the chance to be with him, that impression, for better or worse, will never come back. So should he just be honest? Admit that he's actually really down bad for you but nowhere near confident enough to think he's enough for you?

That sounds like a bad idea. Terrible, even. Chan swallows as he looks at you, doing his best to ignore the way anxiety builds from deep in his gut. You're looking at him so patiently, caringly, that it makes his heart squeeze in his chest. Fuck it- he doesn't have to be completely honest and bear his heart on his sleeve, but he can trust you enough to admit a little bit of what he feels, right? If he can't confide in you then who else can he confide in?

"I just, uhm, I'm not very confident, I guess," he says after a careful breath, nervously scratching at the back of his neck as he darts his eyes away, "like.. in myself, or.. my skills, you know. So I just, uh.. don't have sex." You don't respond right away, simply blinking as you process the information, and regret starts to flood over the anxiety as Chan begins to overthink everything he’s admitted to you.

Really, you’re just shocked; Chan is sexy- like, really sexy. So the revelation that he isn’t confident in himself enough to enjoy sex to its fullest extent is baffling. He has such effortless charisma in other aspects of his life despite his shy nature, and you always assumed it carried over into his sex life; where his bashful looks and timid grins would melt away into someone confident and assured once the moment kicked off. 

“I could help you,” you finally offer once the initial surprise wears off, and instantly his brain is short circuiting, not even realizing that his astounded “huh?” left him audibly. You didn't really plan on confessing your attraction to Chan this way, if ever, but well.. here you are.

"It's just- you're like, the hottest person I know. Seriously. And I don't care if you lack experience, I'd have sex with you regardless," you explain, a rare blush of your own beginning to heat your face, "So, yeah, you know- if you want me like I want you, then.." You start to trail off, but you think he gets what you were intending to say.

It's a bit embarrassing to be blushing yourself considering all the casual sex you have, but it's not your fault- Chan is the only person you've caught feelings for in years, so you can't help but blush a little. Chan, meanwhile, is still stunned; you're attracted to him? You want to have sex with him? Really?

On one hand, it's exciting- you want him, he wants you, and you don't care that he's inexperienced. But still, on the other hand.. With all the experience you have, don’t you want to sleep with someone who matches your energy? He can't imagine that you'd enjoy watching him fumble his way through your time together, or that he’d bring you any pleasure with his lackluster skills.

And what would your relationship be afterwards? Just friends and roommates who happened to fuck once, or something more? Will the mutual attraction die off the moment you realize his insecurities are way more than you signed on for?

“You don’t have to answer right now,” you assure him, offering all the time he may need to think about your proposition. Maybe it won’t be the most casual of your experiences considering your massive crush on him, but how could you pass up the chance to help him? Especially when helping means having sex with the guy of your dreams- because really, that’s what Chan is.

He wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, swallows the lump in his throat, and takes a breath- because despite all his fears, he really likes you, and of course he wants to fuck you. Chan always figured he’d never have a chance with you unless you experienced a huge lapse in judgment; and maybe this is one and done, maybe it doesn't mean as much for you as it does for him, but he’ll still take that chance, insecurities be damned; he’d be a fool not to.

“I want to,” he tells you, soft and timid, but certain. You smile, equally as soft, as you inch closer to him on the sofa. “Can I kiss you?” you ask him, giggling when he quickly nods. It’s cute- equally as cute as the small, involuntary noise he makes from the back of his throat when your lips touch his. You start slow, pressing long, lingering kisses to his plush lips- as soft as you always imagined.

His breath hitches when you crawl onto his lap, pulling away to look at you with widened eyes. “Too much?” you ask, ready to pull yourself off of him but he quickly shakes his head. “You’re just-” he pauses, licks his lips as his face flushes a deeper pink, but continues “..so pretty. Really pretty. Can't believe this is really happening."

It feels a bit silly being so shy to tell you how pretty you are to him when you’ve been kissing him and are quite literally sitting on top of his dick, but he can’t help the way you make him feel. It’s a simple compliment too, one that normally wouldn’t affect you very much, but makes your heart pick up ever so slightly in speed regardless; you suppose because Chan is the one saying it.

You can tell he doesn’t know what to do with his hands when you kiss him again, keeping them clenched and firmly stuck to his side. You take them in your hands, guiding them to your body and resting them on your hips. “Touch me, Channie,” you breathe against his lips, “anywhere you want.” 

“Anywhere..?” he questions with a shaky exhale, hands trembling where they rest on your body. “Mhm, want to feel you,” you tell him sweetly, and God, he already feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest before he’s even really begun. But he listens, hands carefully traveling up and down your body as you lean back in to continue kissing him.

You let your own hands wander as well- over his arms, across his chest, down the toned abs you can distinctly feel even beneath his sweater. You lick his bottom lip, feeling his body shiver beneath the tips of your fingers as he opens his mouth for you, letting your tongue inside.

He brings his hands to your chest, palming your breasts before he carefully squeezes them. You bring one of your hands to hover over his, encouraging him to continue by squeezing your hand atop his. He’s only touching you over your clothes, but he already feels impossibly dizzy from the excitement- he can’t even focus on how pathetic that would normally make him feel either, because your tongue in his mouth fogs his brain. 

The next time you pull away, it’s to grab the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head so swiftly that Chan barely even has time to process what he’s about to see. He sucks in a breath as he looks at your tits; it doesn’t even matter that they’re still contained by a bra- it’s still more than enough to send him reeling. Pretty, pretty, pretty, is all he can think, his mind unable to conjure a thought any more complex than simple words.

You move your hands behind your back, ready to unhook your bra and expose yourself to him entirely, but he briefly stops you. “Can I- Can I try..?” he asks, clearly nervous but eager to try and prove himself in whatever way you’ll let him. “Course, Channie,” you smile at him as you let your arms fall back to your side, “go ahead.” You lean closer to him, bringing your hands to his shoulders as he brings his own to your back. 

You press kisses to his jaw as you wait for him to act, eventually trailing down to his neck. It makes him gasp and bite his lip, the skin of his neck evidently more sensitive than he ever even realized. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, trying his best not to get too distracted by the feeling of your lips on the sensitive spots of his neck before he continues.

His fingers fumble with the hooks of your bra, his trembling hands causing his grip to slip more than once. It’s embarrassing how badly he’s failing at this simple task, but you pay no mind to it, continuing to kiss him as he takes his time to figure it out. You caress his arms, pulling away to reassure him when his shaking fingers mess up for the third time.

“Relax, baby, you’ve got it,” you tell him, the affectionate term unintentionally slipping out- but Chan seems to welcome it, offering you a soft smile and nod as he timidly tries again. He lets out the breath he was unconsciously holding when he finally succeeds, watching attentively as you bring your hands to the now loose straps, sliding them down your arms.

You toss your bra aside when your arms are freed from the straps, and Chan can’t help but stare at your now bare chest. He can count on a single hand the amount of tits he’s seen, so his thoughts may be a bit biased in your favor, but he firmly believes yours are the prettiest he’s ever looked at. Chewing on his bottom lip, he looks to you for permission to touch them again, which you easily grant him. 

The soft noise you let out when his thumbs brush over your nipples both surprises him and makes his cock throb; he can still hardly even believe you’re really letting him touch you. “Is that good?” he asks as he does it again, intoxicated by the way you whimper and squirm. “Mhm, feels good. Feels better when they’re wet, though,” you tell him, watching as the gears turn in his brain. 

He licks his lips and leans down, bringing his face to your chest. He sticks out his tongue, slowly swiping it against one of your hardened nipples, eyes glued to your face as he does. “This what you want?” he asks, repeating the action when you gasp and nod. You thread your fingers through his hair, another whimper leaving you as he wraps his lips around your nipple and swirls his tongue around it.

You reach for his other hand and bring his fingers to your mouth, licking and coating them in your saliva. He whines at the feeling of your tongue sliding against his fingers, his imagination running wild with images of what it’d feel like on different parts of his body. Once satisfied with the wetness of his fingers, you take them from your mouth and bring them back down to the nipple currently not in his mouth. “Use them to touch me, please-” 

Chan wastes no time in doing what you ask, a soft whine escaping him when you gently tug on his hair. His cock is painfully hard and straining against his jeans that are now uncomfortably tight around him. You can feel it pressing against your ass, his eyes fluttering shut when his treatment of your nipples cause you to squirm and rub against his erection. The friction is overwhelming, your noises are intoxicating, the combination makes him dizzy with need for more. 

More of your touch on his skin, more of your pretty whimpers in his ear, more of anything and everything you’re willing to give him, he wants it all. Soon you’re reaching for the hem of Chan’s sweater, and he separates from you, allowing you to pull it up and over his head, discarding it to the floor with the rest of your clothing. You admire him, trace his pecs and his abs with your fingers, smiling at him sweetly when he shivers beneath your touch. 

“You’re so handsome, Channie,” you tell him as you continue to run your fingers along his torso, “so hot, you have no idea how bad I’ve wanted you.” He whines and turns his face away, a vain attempt to hide the heat that rises to it. “That’s- I-I.. didn’t know..” he mumbles shyly, hesitant to meet your gaze again- mostly because he thinks his heart will burst if he looks at you while you’re saying things like that to him.

He doesn’t know how he’s ever going to be able to look at you without going red in the face after this, or how he’s going to be able to hear your voice again without his cock getting hard. Better yet, how is he going to look at you without thinking about how bad he wants you to be his, or for him to be yours? Either way, that’s a problem for the future- because your hands and lips are all over him, and that’s what he wants to focus on now. 

Chan sucks in a breath when your hand brushes his erection over his jeans, bites his lip when you start to undo the button, lets out a shaky exhale as you begin to pull down the zipper. He’s not sure what you’ll think of his length, but he hopes you like it, prays that it’s enough to satisfy you. “You should have more confidence in yourself, Channie,” is the first thing you say as you take it in your hand, “you’ve got the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.” 

“W-What? No way, that’s- you’re just saying that,” he pouts, the blush covering his face and ears becoming unbearably hot. You can’t mean that- he almost refuses to believe it; because he simply can’t comprehend that you would prefer him to anyone else. “I’m not, baby. I mean it,” you tell him, and the way he throbs in your hand gives away that he likes the compliment, even if he doesn’t entirely believe it’s true. 

You really are being honest; it’s not the longest you’ve ever had, but it’s among the thickest, with pretty veins that accentuate it. You want to trace them- with your fingers, your lips, your tongue, everything. And then there’s the way his pre-cum leaks from the tip, steadily dripping and pooling where it falls- all you can say is that it’s mouth-watering. The look in your eyes makes Chan feel impossibly shy, and it takes everything within him not to cover his face when your eyes meet again. 

He never imagined that look would be for him; that he would ever be deserving of your touch and affectionate words. And the sweet smile you offer him when you start to earnestly stroke his cock- he’s done for, absolutely done for. He’ll never be able to hide how bad he wants you after this- maybe he should listen to you and gain some confidence, ask you to be his before someone else steals you away. 

Chan quickly loses his ability to form coherent thought once you start picking up your pace however, your hand having quickly become slick from his pre-cum. His head falls back against the sofa, breaths growing more and more labored with each stroke of your soft, warm, wet hand. You can feel his thighs twitch beneath you, and the way his hips jolt up to try to seek further friction from your hand, though your weight atop his legs prevents him doing so. 

“Want you in my mouth,” you tell him, pleased with the way the words make him gasp and squirm, “You want that, Channie? Will you let me suck you off?” Fuck, do you even have to ask? As if there is any reality in which he would ever say no; you can have him, all of him, he doesn’t care as long as it’s you- he’ll never deny you any part of him. “Yeah, yeah, want that, please,” he breathes, an almost shameless plea for you to do whatever you want with him. 

You offer him a pretty smile, placing a quick but affectionate kiss to his lips before you remove yourself from his lap. Sinking to your knees, you pull Chan’s jeans and boxers down his legs and to his ankles, and wait for him to step out of them and spread his legs wide enough for you to fit between them. There’s an apprehensive look in his eye when you scoot closer to him, and you pause, looking up at him with concern. “Are you nervous?” you ask, ready to stop at a moment’s notice if he needs you to.

“Ah, yeah, sorry, I just-” he pauses, an awkward, nervous laugh leaving him as he averts his gaze away from yours, “I just.. ‘m worried I’m gonna cum too fast when you.. Uh, yeah, you know.” He feels a bit pathetic admitting it, and he keeps his eyes locked on a random corner of the room, still holding onto the irrational fear that you’ll judge or laugh at him. Of course, you do neither- you simply lean forward on your knees, reaching a hand up to touch his face and bring his eyes back to yours. 

“Don’t worry about that, I won’t mind if you cum fast, okay? It won’t bother me, and I won’t be mad. Just enjoy yourself,” you tell him earnestly, smiling sweetly at him when he slowly nods. You want to show him that you’re more than happy to take care of him until he gets the confidence in himself he needs, that there’s no shame in feeling so good that he can’t help but let go, that you’ll want him regardless. 

You settle back on your knees, rubbing your hands up and down his thighs until you feel like his nerves have settled. He nods to you when he’s ready, and you give him one last smile before you bring your face directly to his waiting cock. The kisses you place to the tip are already enough to have him gasping and squirming in his seat- soft, delicate, and wet. Your fingers hold him at the base, keeping it held in place even as it twitches in response to every kiss you leave behind. 

You stick out your tongue, let spit dribble down and further wet his leaking tip, and it’s positively the most erotic thing Chan has ever witnessed; he has to cover his face to stop himself from losing his mind. Head fallen back against the sofa with his arm thrown over his face, he gasps once more when he feels your tongue press against his skin. You lick slowly- whether to savor the taste or prolong the moment, Chan is unsure, but he welcomes it either way. 

He can’t suppress the throaty groan that leaves him when you drag your tongue across the entirety of his length, tracing the veins with it just as you wished to. “O-Oh my god, baby-” he gasps when you finally start to take his cock into your mouth, too far gone to realize that he too let the pet name slip out. You don’t seem to mind, at least; after all, despite this “casual” encounter, you’ve already done the same, and been more affectionate than he ever anticipated.

Chan wants to believe you’re affectionate just with him; that none of your other casual partners have ever been looked at the way you’ve looked at him, that you never called them sweet names or given them such caring glances. Maybe he’s feeding himself a delusion, but he wants to believe you want him as bad as he wants you- beyond just the physical. He wants to believe this isn’t just a one time thing, and most of all he wants to believe that you’ll fall in love with him. 

Is it normal to think about love when your cock is deep down your crush's throat? He doesn’t know- but all he can think about, apart from how amazing your mouth feels, is how much he loves and adores you. Letting his arm fall back to his side, he lifts his head from the sofa to look at you once more, and fuck, what a site you are. Eyes glassy and pretty as you gaze up at him through your lashes, cheeks flushed red, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth.

The sounds you make as you bob your head are so salacious it makes his head spin, his thighs tremble with each motion of your tongue on the underside of his length, and every time his tip touches the back of your throat he can’t help but let out a moan. His fingers struggle to find purchase on the sofa’s cushion, so instead he clenches his fist, knuckles quickly turning white. You notice, of course, so you bring one of your hands to his, intertwining your fingers and letting him squeeze your hand instead. 

God, that fucks with his heart- but he hardly has any time to dwell on it. He’s barely been holding back his orgasm, and he’s not sure how much longer he can last. “Babe, baby, feels so good, I can’t- o-oh, please, ‘m gonna cum-” he babbles his warning, whimpering when you hum in response and continue to take him as deep into your mouth as he can go. His eyes roll back, cock throbbing and entire body trembling- and one more swipe of your tongue and swallow around his length is all it takes to have him cumming.

“O-Oh my- fuck, fuck, sorry, ‘m cumming, baby-” he rambles, thankfully too far gone to be embarrassed by all the things he’s saying to you. You swallow all he has to give you, not pulling off him until he starts to come down from his high and cock begins to soften. He’s dazed and breathless as he looks at you, chest heaving as his brain tries to recalibrate itself after how good you just made him feel.

You rise from your knees and set yourself back on the sofa, leaning towards Chan to kiss him after he’s caught his breath. He can taste himself on your lips, but he doesn’t hate it; there’s a strange part of him that even enjoys it. “‘m sorry,” he mumbles with a nervous pout when you pull away, “I tried to hold it back, but..” 

“Channie, I told you not to worry about that. It felt good, right? That’s all that matters,” you tell him, directing him to look at you when he tries to avert his gaze again. He swallows the anxiety down, trying to look at you without feeling like disappearing into a void. But he can tell after just a moment how sincere you’re being, and it spreads relief through his veins. It’s not that he really doubted you, but his internal dialogue is far from rational.

You’ve been so good to him since the start, and though he’s incredibly shy and equally as nervous, there’s nothing more he wants now than to return the favor. He still doubts he’s good enough to give you what you deserve, to skillfully make you cum and cry out for him, but he’ll try- God, he’ll fucking try. 

It takes all the confidence he can muster to speak what he wants to say, but he thankfully manages alright. “I want, uh- ..w-want to make you cum too,” he admits, doing his best to hold your gaze despite the way shyness claws at him and his blush burns his face. “Yeah?” you smile, honestly pretty eager to let Chan touch you more. 

While you were more than ready to keep taking the lead, to guide him along and take care of him, you’re happy to see a surge of confidence in him- even if it’s a small one. “Touch me then, Channie. Make me cum,” you tell him as you beckon him closer, letting out a soft, content hum when he kisses you. You let him guide you back until your back is flat against the sofa, spreading your legs so that he can nestle between them. 

You can feel his hands trembling again as they travel your body, but Chan doesn’t let the nerves prevent him from hooking his fingers into your pants. He continues to kiss you as he slides them down your legs, along with your panties- not just because he loves kissing you, but also because he’s not quite ready to look at your bare pussy; he genuinely thinks his heart will give out if he doesn’t mentally prepare himself first.

Pretty soon though, he does have to separate from you so he can let you slip your feet out of your clothes, and subsequently toss them to the floor with all the rest of your discarded clothing. He tries to keep his eyes locked on your face, but he can’t help but let his eyes trail down and roam over the rest of your exposed body. He’s mesmerized in an instant; you’re so impossibly pretty, every inch of you breathtaking and beautiful and- God, just perfect.

He knows his words will fail him, so he hopes his lips on yours will do enough of the talking for him, hopes that he can show how bad he adores and desires you with actions alone. You intended initially to let him take his time, but you’ve been impossibly wet and worked up this entire time; and besides, doesn’t he need a little push? 

So you take one of his hands, guiding it to your dripping center. Chan lets out an involuntary whine from the back of his throat, body shivering in response. “Y-You’re so- oh my god, how are you so wet?” he asks, as in awe of you as he is surprised. “You, baby,” you answer, voice growing shakier now that he’s rubbing his fingers between your folds, “I told you, you- you’re so handsome, you know? Get me so hot, ‘ve wanted you so bad.” 

God, he still can’t believe it- how is it possible that you’ve wanted him as bad as he’s wanted you? And there’s no way his insecurities can make him believe you’re just saying it to make him feel good about himself anymore- because he can feel the proof of your words with his fingers. “Tell me- tell me what you like, what you want, please,” he softly pleads, “need to make you feel good.”

“Inside, want your pretty fingers inside me,” you tell him, shivering when you feel the tips of his fingers pressing against your hole. He starts slow and careful, gently pushing one of his fingers inside, alternating between watching his hand and looking up to your face. You’re so slick and warm, and the way you squeeze around even just one of his fingers makes his head spin- because he can’t help but imagine how you’d feel on his cock.

“Another, add another, please,” you all but beg once you’re adjusted to how one feels, and he wastes no time in obliging you, delighting in the way it makes your eyes flutter closed. You bite your lip when he starts to instinctively move his fingers faster, little whimpers escaping as your breaths become heavier. “You sound so pretty,” he says, gasping when he realizes it caused you to clench harder around his fingers. 

Do you like when he talks to you? He doesn’t know if it’s his voice you like, or what he said in particular, but if you like it then he won’t stop. “F-Feels so amazing, I can’t- can’t stop thinking about what you’d feel like around me, want it so bad, want to be inside you,” he starts to ramble, doing his best to voice everything that comes to his mind, anything he thinks you’ll like and will have you clenching again, even if it embarrasses him to say it.

He experiments with his fingers as he talks to you- changing angles and curling his fingers, trying to find what you like the best. You gasp when he finds your spot with the tips of his fingers, body trembling and back arching. “R-Right there, fuck, feels so good, Channie, your fingers feel so good,” you tell him breathlessly, and he can’t help the way he stiffens and throbs once more in response. 

And really, how is he supposed to look at the way you shake beneath him, hear your pretty voice praise the way he’s touching you, and not get hard again? He wants nothing more than to make you cum- to make you cry and writhe in pleasure for him, because of him; almost desperate for it, he hits your spot over and over again, hoping to bring you closer and closer to the release you both crave. 

He’s mesmerized by the way your eyes roll back, by the rise and fall of your chest and tremble of your thighs; addicted to the way your moans and whimpers grow higher in pitch, and the messy, wet sounds his fingers create between your legs. Chan glances down to your pussy, taking notice of your puffy, neglected clit. 

He wants to taste it, to wrap his lips around and let his tongue lavish it, but he doesn’t trust himself to be able to get down smoothly or without messing up his rhythm; so instead, he brings his thumb to it- something he’s seen done in porn that woman always seemed to like (and he desperately hopes you like it too.) Thankfully, he gets the effect he was hoping for- you let out a whimper and squirm, nails digging into his skin. 

Chan doesn’t let up even when his wrist begins to grow sore, running purely on desire and instinct. “F-Fuck, Channie, baby, ‘m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum,” you gasp out, voice whiny and strained, but still oh so pretty in his ears. He can’t believe he’s actually going to make you cum, can’t believe how lucky he is; and he's utterly transfixed on the way your body moves, drunk on the sounds that freely spill from you. 

He gasps when you reach out and unexpectedly pull him closer, letting out a soft, surprised whine when you eagerly crash your lips into his. It’s the messiest kiss he’s ever had, tongues dancing and drool falling from the corners of your mouth, hot and heavy breaths passed between each other. Your thighs squeeze his hand as your orgasm takes you, entire body shaking as your back arches off the sofa, arousal gushing and further coating his fingers.

Chan slowly slides his fingers out of you as you catch your breath, meeting your gaze shyly when you open your eyes to look at him once more. He’s so fucking hard, again, and you instantly notice, much to his embarrassment. He wants to fuck you, there’s no denying it- but he can’t help but continue to feel self-conscious, even now. 

You sit up and kiss him once more, as if to dispel all doubts and worries from his racing mind. “Want you, Channie,” you tell him, voice soft, sweet, and reassuring, “do you still want me? Wanna fuck me?” He whines from deep in his throat, knowing he’d never be able to deny it, even if he wanted to. 

“Yes, God, yes, wanna fuck you,” he answers honestly, nervously chewing on his bottom lip, “b-but I- I just.. don’t want to disappoint you.” He’ll never forgive himself if he fucks this up and leaves you wanting and unsatisfied; he wants to be nothing less than perfect for you and he already knows that he isn’t. 

“Channie, baby, look at me,” you say as you reach a hand to his cheek, urging him to meet your eyes again, “you won’t disappoint me, you could never.” You place soft, comforting pecks to his lips, holding his hands and rubbing soothing circles with your thumbs until you feel him start to lose his tension. “Remember what I said? Don’t worry about anything but feeling good. I want you to cum again,” you tell him, smiling as he nods, his face flushing a deeper red. 

Leaning towards the coffee table, you reach for where you dropped your purse before sitting down with Chan, digging around inside until you find one of the spare condoms you make sure to keep for your dates. He swallows as he watches you pull it out, beyond nervous but equally as excited to finally feel you wrapped around him. 

Even just watching you tear open the packaging is enough to have him trembling, and when you glance at him to make sure he’s ready, he ignores his insecurities the best he can to offer you a timid smile. You return the smile, taking his cock in your hand and giving it a few slow pumps to make sure he’s ready. He squirms and softly whines, still sensitive from his previous orgasm, but there’s no way he’s going to let that stop him from having this moment with you. 

He shivers when you easily roll the condom down his length, biting his lip as you crawl back onto his lap after you’ve finished. His heart is beating fast and erratic, and he wonders if you can hear how loudly it’s thumping against his chest. He lies half propped up by one of the sofa’s cushions, looking up at you with eyes akin to a puppy, watching your every move with bated breath. 

You reach between your bodies to hold his cock at the base, angling it with your still soaked entrance. You let go once you start to sink down on it, moving your hand to his chest to support yourself as his cock pushes inside. “Oh, fuck-” Chan lets out a choked gasp, already overwhelmed by the sensation even before you’re fully sat on his length. 

Even with a condom on, he can still feel how warm and wet you are, your walls squeezing him so tight it takes his breath away. “Fuck, baby, oh my god, it already feels so good, what the fuck-” he gasps again once your hips are flush together. He doesn’t remember it feeling this amazing the last time he had sex; is it because he’s more sensitive from before? Or is it because it’s you? 

No matter the answer, he’s certain of one thing- and that’s that he’s definitely going to cum fast; he just hopes you meant it when you said it’s okay. He lets out an obscenely loud moan when you start to lift and drop your hips- one that would normally make him extremely embarrassed, but he feels way too good to even focus on it; all he can think about is how fucking good you feel. 

His hands squeeze your hips, and he looks at you with stars in his eyes. How can you be so pretty, so beautiful? How can you feel this good? The way he’s looking at you makes your heart stutter and pussy clench, an act that makes Chan’s head fall back against the cushion as he moans. He’s so handsome, with the way his curly hair clings to his forehead with sweat, his bitten lips and flushed cheeks- it's insane that he can't see how crazy for him you are. 

You lean forward to kiss him, bringing one of your hands up to thread your fingers through his hair as your tongue slips past his parted lips. He feels dizzy with pleasure, each of his loud moans and whines muffled only by your lips on his. You’re both panting by the time you separate, with you falling forward and burying your face into his neck. 

Your legs and knees quickly begin to scream at you, but you ignore it as best you can in favor of chasing pleasure, bouncing on his cock with all the energy you can muster. You know he won’t last much longer- he was already sensitive to start, and you can feel him twitching and throbbing more and more with each additional motion of your hips. 

“Baby, ‘m so close-” Chan whimpers, eyes rolling back when you clench around him harder. “Yeah? Gonna cum again for me, Channie? Gonna cum with me?” you ask as you snake your hand between your bodies, rubbing your clit in quick circles so that you can cum together. He quickly nods and bites his lip, hands squeezing you tighter and hips rising to chase you every time you lift off him. 

It only takes a couple more rolls of your hips to have him cumming again, white, hot pleasure coursing through his veins and overwhelming every inch of his body, filling the condom with all he has to give. You follow quickly behind, hips stuttering and losing all sense of rhythm as you ride out your release. 

You collapse against his chest with a heavy sigh once you’re done, utterly exhausted from all the effort, but completely satisfied. You’re both breathless, eyes closed as you collect yourselves and racing hearts start to return to normal speed. Well, in Chan’s case it doesn’t completely return to normal; because you’re still naked on top of him, and even after having just had sex, he still can’t believe you’re here with him right now like this.

You lift your hips and let his softening cock slide out of you, laying on Chan’s side with his arm as support so you don’t fall off the sofa. You carefully remove the condom, tying it off and preparing it to be thrown away once you’re ready to get up- for now, you’re too tired to move, and you just want to stay next to Chan for as long as you can. 

You lay your leg across his body, cuddling close to him while he continues to support your weight with his arm. “How was it? Fun?” you ask him, smiling when he blushes and looks away, still unable to help being shy even after all you just did together. “Of course, you’re.. incredible,” he answers honestly, chewing on his lip before he continues, “But, were you- ..was I good enough for you..?”

“Channie, are you kidding? You were perfect, I promise,” you assure him, giggling softly when he breathes a sigh of relief. “You get stuck in your head too much, baby,” you continue, absentmindedly tracing circles in his skin as you speak, “I promise you, you could have anyone you want. I mean it when I say you’re perfect.” He still doesn’t quite believe what you’re saying is true, but he can at least accept that you believe it. 

But he wonders if you know- it’s not just anyone he wants, but you. He was only able to do this because it was you that offered- anyone else, and he would’ve instantly turned them down, or wouldn't have been able to enjoy himself if he did accept. Looking at you now reaffirms what he’s long since thought- you’re the only one for him. 

“Baby, I want you to be mine- want you to be my girlfriend,” is what he wants to say- but Chan is much too shy, and can’t bring himself to do it. “C-Can we- can we do this again sometime..?” is what he ends up saying insead. And you smile as you nod, sweetly running your fingers through his messy curls before you give him another kiss, “Course, baby. Anytime you want me, I’m yours.”

network tags: @skzstarnet @ksmutsociety

[moondirti]

sorry to the soft simon lovers but i am fixating on the idea of him being too abrasive for greater society. no, hear me out. he can't be normal after what he’s been through. after what he's done.

cw: dead dove. sadism. inferred sexism and stalking. punitive harassment. idk guys he's gross. 18+ MDNI

he's just a little too odd, grim, ugly, cruel, rude. he stares too long and makes jokes that strike the wrong chord in most. he's into things that are not as sexual as they are humiliating to his partners, and can not be satisfied by any relationship his therapist would deem as healthy. even physically, he's torn in all the wrong places. his scars aren’t rugged but almost painful to look at. his hands are huge and calloused and 60 grit sandpaper against soft skin. his nose is crooked. his hair is shorn short. he has a mean smile, watery eyes.

the one thing keeping him from being completely ostracised is the flag on his arm, the one he fights for. but it's like putting a tarp over some horrible, disfigured mess – you can still see the general shape of it underneath. most shrug it off as fine, go figure. you teach a soldier to kill and they cope by being killers. it's funny because simon's issues began way before he enlisted – he spoors it back to conception, when his father gave him a part of himself that can never be scoured clean. the military is just where he resides to conceal the stink of miasma he'll never rid of. piss over piss. putting a reason to the barbarity.

for a while, it's enough. he sticks to the corners. for all his sadism, he's not keen on subjecting the general public to his complications. he's smart enough to separate good from what makes him feel good. he only interacts with others like him – price, mostly, who's better at playing pretend but has issues that bury their roots just as deep. or maybe he's able to see simon for what he really is, and the novelty of not having to bite his tongue is enough to form a gossamer bridge of friendship. he sleeps with masochists who don't know what's good for them, all of them men (though it never pays when they're into what he's inflicting). in between missions, he'll disappear to his shitty apartment that he pays for in cash and drink himself to oblivion as he scrolls through a deprecating XXX site.

if he gets inebriated enough, he'll open up tinder and swipe through the birds advertising themselves, as if he were the holy arbitrator of what's attractive. safe because he made it so that no one would match with him; his profile is blank. no bio, no age. Riley as his first name and a picture of a shutterstock german shepherd because having one photo was a requirement.

the lifestyle probably exacerbates his problems.

maybe that's why he reaches a point of no return when he gets a text late one night. he doesn't give his number to anyone, so the only app it could be from–

your dog's cute. what's his name?

it's to his sloshed astonishment that someone swiped right on him. not even him, but a barebones, dodgy profile he curated to keep everyone at arms length when he chooses to indulge in his destructive habits. you're cute too, suspiciously darling and a whole open book – five pictures, a colourful description and your city of residence. you cannot be short of options, certainly not enough to drive you to a point of desperation, so there's no mistaking what this is.

you're setting up a little pet project. something to bat at like a cat does a ball of yarn, with no intention to commit or ever see him in real life. perhaps you chose him because there’s nowhere to go but up. or because his disinterest seems glaringly obvious, and a simple risk assessment told you that you wouldn't suffer an obsessive stalker if you ever chose to ghost him.

unfortunately for you, that couldn't be further from the truth. that simple question is enough to push him over the edge.

he's tired of holding back.

[nataliasquote]

Midas Touch [pt.2] | n romanoff

Summary: How is Y/n supposed to process the events of the last 24 hours when life wants to continue as normal? Her head is a total mess but the two people she is closest to are the ones most responsible. In a room full of people, she is the most alone

Warnings: bad coping mechanisms, shitty husband, cheating, mentions of an injury

Pairings: James Barnes x wife!reader, maid!Natasha Romanoff x mistress!reader

wc: 5k

Note: hello :) I am back! This is nowhere near as good as I want it to be but I need to get back into writing so I pushed myself to write this :) I hope you enjoy and thank you for all the love on the first part of ‘Midas Touch’

-⧗-

If Y/n Barnes was a master of one thing, it was pushing her feelings so far down they didn’t dare bob above the surface even just an inch. There was no tell-tale sign of what had happened the previous night…

… except for the dark bruise scattered nicely across her high cheekbone.

James didn’t return home that night so Y/n woke up to an empty bed. It wasn’t the first time, and certainly wouldn’t be the last, but the vast expanse of the egyptian cotton bed sheets encased her body like a glove, and pulling herself out would be an impossible task.

Natasha knocked on the door at 10am, her uniform ironed to a crisp perfection. Flashes of last night blurred through her mind but she cleared her thoughts with a deep breath and pushed the heavy door open after a suitable and swift knock. She headed straight to the long curtains that concealed the balcony doors and tugged them open to allow a small strip of light to dance across the oak floors.

“Good morning, Mrs Barnes,” she spoke gently, watching her mistress smooth her hands over her mussed up hair. The same soft hair she’d felt beneath her own fingertips in an entirely new way. “We have plenty of time, but I would like to remind you that you have your Vanity Fair photoshoot today.”

Y/n groaned and shuffled up to prop her torso up against the thick pillows, the strap of her nightdress falling down her shoulder slightly. “Did we not reschedule that?” She asked, large eyes following Natasha like a hawk.

“I’m afraid not, ma’am,” Natasha replied with a grimace. Y/n rolled her eyes, again, and blindly gestured for Natasha to bring her robe over. Whilst the spring days were getting warmer, mornings still carried a cooler breeze that felt rather harsh if you were dressed in nothing but a silk slip. “I can still call ahead and see-”

“There’s no need. It’s just a photoshoot, not the end of the world.” Y/n’s bleary eyes were still half closed as Natasha approached, rather hesitantly, with the feathered robe draped over one arm. She reprimanded herself to stay professional but as their eyes met, she couldn’t help but see the helpless expression that she saw in them only hours before, the same one she fell for without considering the repercussions. Natasha was sure Y/n could hear how loudly her heart was beating behind her blouse and she waited for a remark or look that would truly test her to the limit, yet nothing came.

Y/n accepted the robe with a tight lipped smile and moved into the bathroom without another word. Natasha couldn’t help but linger on the blue bruise in contrast with her pale skin, but she knew not to mention it. It was just another elephant in the room, which was turning into quite the zoo now.

Photoshoot preparation was fairly minimal as hair and makeup would be taken care of on set, so Natasha just focussed on preparing breakfast and briefing Y/n on everything she needed to know.

“- and I think that’s everything,” Natasha said, placing her pen down on the table. “Oh, um, well, there is one more thing, but…”

“Spit it out, Natasha, we really don’t have all day.” Y/n peered over the top of her large framed sunglasses with a raised brow, watching as the redhead cowered slightly under her gaze. “What is it?”

Natasha swallowed and started to fiddle with her nails under the table. Why was this so hard? “It’s just your… cheek, ma’am. Would you rather we covered it up here to avoid any suspicions, or we could create a cover story? Perhaps you were hit with a tennis ball-”

Y/n held up her index finger, effectively cutting Natasha off mid ramble. The stress was evident in her tone and it was slightly irritating to the young woman who had managed to distance herself from everything rather quickly. Sure, the ache on one side of her face was still there and served as a harsh reminder of what her life was, but she had a part to play, and nothing, not even Natasha, would get in the way of that.

“I don’t care,” Y/n stated bluntly, pushing her sunglasses up into her freshly washed hair. “You can do both, cover it up and make up a story.” Her tone was blasé and Natasha frowned, unsure of how to handle her next words. “It’s not a big deal, so please don’t turn it into one. And James cannot know that you know, okay, or he will fire you if he finds out.”

Her words were like a kick to the stomach and Natasha nodded swiftly before busying herself with collecting the breakfast tray. Despite being the one to end their kiss last night and cement to Y/n that it was wrong, there was still a part of her that clung on to their relationship being forever changed for the better and she yearned for that feeling they’d shared only hours previous. But Y/n cooler demeanour squashed all hope and she even wondered if it all had been a dream. If it wasn’t for the bruise, maybe she would have been convinced.

Natasha didn’t utter another word about it, instead immersing herself into preparations. Y/n was typing away on her phone on the drive over, so Natasha stole thirty minutes to continue with her book. But the words on the pages were simply just that, she couldn’t focus on more than a paragraph. She was hyper aware of the heeled foot bobbing out the corner of her eye where Y/n had one leg crossed over the other as she scrolled through her phone, and how if they were only a few inches closer it would be brushing against her calf. But Natasha shook her thoughts away as they pulled up to the studio and fetched the bags as Y/n’s publicist greeted them at the door.

Natasha was directed to the dressing room, the kind of place she was familiar with, and she laid out her things before hovering by the door. Her role during photoshoots was minimal, and quite frankly she didn’t need to be there, but Y/n always requested her presence as a sense of comfort and familiarity. Things got overwhelming quickly on set.

“Oh thank god, I thought you’d got lost,” Y/n breathed as she spotted Natasha by the soft couch, hands clasped over her lap. “I have a favour to ask.”

“Okay, what is it?”

Y/n peeked down the hallway before quickly closing the door, allowing them a moment of privacy before the chaos ensued. “Will you stay with me all day?” Her voice was quiet, like she was afraid to admit it. Natasha’s eyes softened and she nodded. “It’s just- I’ve never felt as safe with someone as I do with you, and after yesterday I-”

“It’s okay, I’ll be right here, and I’ll hover on set so I’m never far away. And I’ve already sent the message around so no one will ask about your cheek.” Y/n smiled gratefully, counting her blessings for how lucky she was to have Natasha in her life. She went above and beyond her duties and had the kindest heart, one that captured Y/n more than she cared to admit.

Their sweet moment was cut short as a knock on the door sounded, promptly followed by the entry of the glam team. Y/n was swooped away into hair and makeup, a simple yet versatile look that could be adapted to fit each outfit. Natasha watched like a hawk, scanning Y/n’s body language for any signs of discomfort. But her mistress was also a professional when it came to performing in public, so no outsider would ever know what was bubbling beneath the surface. She chatted and laughed with her stylists just like any other day, complimenting the soft waves in her hair and the shade of blush used on her cheeks.

The shoot itself harnessed the light and airy feel of summer, utilising bright colours and soft prints that complimented Y/n’s complexion perfectly. She’d worked with the photographer a few times before, with James too, so they worked naturally together, her features enhanced by his skill and her ease in which she posed.

The camera adored her. Which wasn’t surprising, Y/n really was gorgeous. Each outfit fitted her body like a glove and she gazed down the lens with such a sultry look that Natasha shifted in her seat a few times. She watched, mesmerised - this part of her job never got old.

Natasha had come crashing down overnight, the one small taste of her mistress that she’d managed to get had got her addicted and the way the redhead looked at her was far from professional, no matter how hard she tried.

And life wasn’t helping her case either. Not when Y/n came strutting out in her final outfit, a light blue silk dress with a dangerously low back and swooping neckline. She locked eyes with Natasha and winked as the make up artist added a final coat of lipstick before stepping back to allow the set to be empty. Y/n turned at an angle to the camera and looked back over her shoulder, eyes gazing off away from the lens… and straight to Natasha. Her soft eyeliner brought out the colours in her eyes in the most gorgeous way and they seemed to sparkle in the studio lights as she turned and posed, all whilst looking directly at her maid.

Anyone looking at the meek redhead in the corner would just see a maid on duty. No one would be able to see the way her eyes followed where Y/n’s hands went, knowing she’d held them in hers only hours before. Nor would they see how she stared at her slightly parted lips whilst remembering the way they felt on her own. How gentle and delicate they felt, a wild contrast to her captivating and consuming presence that made everyone on set stop and stare. Y/n had finally trusted someone to see her vulnerable and Natasha treasured it like a precious stone, keeping it near and dear to her heart.

The day wrapped after a few hours and Y/n changed straight into a bikini before heading down to the pool, her hair loose and still curled from the shoot. The water was always her preferred way of unwinding and Natasha gave her some space to be alone for a while, something that rarely happened in her hectic life.

The house was peaceful as the afternoon sun warmed the patio where Y/n resided, her legs dangling into the crystal pool water below. Her large sunglasses stopped the glare from blinding her and she moved her feet slowly, following the ripples that she created. There was nothing to be heard but the birds in the trees and the occasional clink of crockery as the chefs prepared a light dinner. Natasha stayed back, her chair placed in the shade to save her delicately pale skin from the harsh sun rays. She didn’t tan like Y/n did, and looking like a lobster was not on her to do list for the week.

But her seat still gave her an amazing view and as Y/n stood up to refill her glass, Natasha took the time to admire her toned body and how it glistened from the tanning oil. Every piece of exposed skin looked smooth and she knew it would feel just as soft under her fingertips.

Her attentive ears picked up the sound of heavy footsteps across the marble floors and Natasha sat up a little straighter as James appeared in the doorway. He was focused on the woman by the pool, her damp hair sticking to her exposed back as it dried in the heat. With four strides he was at the pool edge, saying something that made Y/n climb to her feet.

Natasha was used to their PDA, but this one felt wrong to watch. The second their lips touched, she brought her book closer, trying to distract herself. But the more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t keep looking away. She saw how James’ hand instantly found the curve of Y/n’s lower back and pressed her body into him as he held the back of her head to kiss her. Natasha saw Y/n almost melted into his touch and she cursed how natural they looked. Was everything okay with them? Had Y/n really pushed her pain that far down that she could forgive her husband in two seconds? Or was this all just an act that the couple had perfected over time because this had been happening a lot longer than Natasha knew. She dreaded to consider the latter but the sinking feeling in her stomach wouldn’t let it go.

At the poolside, Y/n finally pulled away from James, her lips slightly numb. “Where were you?” she muttered quietly, not fully looking him in the eye as he brushed his thumb across her bottom lip.

“Work, doll, you know how hectic it gets sometimes.” There was something off about him, but Y/n was too exhausted to pry so she let her eyes fall to the exposed chain resting on his chest thanks to the buttons undone on his shirt. “Have you been good today?”

“Had a photoshoot,” Y/n replied, and James tensed, gripping her waist firmer as he waited for her next words. “The one for Vanity Fair’s cover next month.”

James grunted in response and dragged his hand up his wife’s body, raking in her figure in her small black bikini. Natasha watched over the top of her book, perplexed. No one could see how uncomfortable Y/n was as James’ hand gripped the back of her neck and guided her inside, her facade was good, but she prayed it would be obvious as they passed the redhead who could only pretend she didn’t see them. Y/n desperately tried to make eye contact with her maid but Natasha ignored her, sending a shudder down her spine as James’ grip hardened.

“Why are you so quiet today? Cat got your tongue?” James asked once the bedroom door was closed and the couple were finally alone. Y/n lingered by the bed as he discarded his button down shirt in exchange for a lighter and more simple one. “I asked you a question, Y/n.”

“I’m just tired from the shoot,” she replied, eyes flitting over his muscular back. “And the constant dodging of questions.” Y/n saw the way he froze, still with his back turned, and the confidence that had blossomed in her chest for a moment was snuffed out.

“Excuse me?”

Her chest heaved as her breathing sped up but she stood her ground, using the mattress behind her knees for support. “It’s hard to lie through my teeth when people are asking about the bruise on my face and I can’t tell them it was my husband. Photoshop is really going to save you-”

“What did you tell them?” James demanded as he stormed over, towering over her as he gripped her upper arm. “Did you dare?”

“I told them it was a tennis ball.” Relief flooded James’ face and he let her go, creating space between them. Y/n saw the way he looked at her cheek that was still covered with makeup. “Didn’t want to risk getting another one if you found out I’d told the truth.” The words were out before she could stop them and Y/n braced herself for the impact, expecting the inevitable.

But it didn’t come.

A hand touched her cheek, making her flinch, before it slid down to her waist and James knelt before her, his head resting on her bare stomach. His sudden change was unnerving and Y/n didn’t know what to do. He was leaning against her like a child, apologising and mumbling like a madman, and part of her wanted to push him away, but it would be a step too far. She just stood and listened to his apologies, once again blaming his work for making him aggressive and swearing that he’d never lay a hand on her again.

Part of her believed him, the naive part, but as she screwed her eyes shut, all she saw was Natasha. How gentle her touch was, something James could never do. He was always rough, no matter what, his hands calloused from years of fighting. The way Natasha’s palm felt against her burning cheeks would never be matched by anyone else and no matter how hard Y/n tried to imagine that the hands that were running across her back now belonged to her maid, she knew what Natasha’s touch was like and she couldn’t pretend anymore.

The moment the kisses started across her lower stomach, Y/n pushed James’ head away and sat down on the soft duvet, taking his hand in hers.

“It’s okay, I forgive you.”

Lies.

But for the sake of her life and safety, it was all she could say.

James was no knight in shining armour, despite his skillset. No, her true saviour knocked on the door in that moment, knocking the air out of her lungs as she breathed a sigh of relief. Natasha knew not to enter unless ordered, so Y/n scurried to the door and visibly softened at the sight of the redhead who’s cheeks were slightly flushed.

Right, Y/n was still in her bikini.

“I’m just here to say that dinner is ready and on the patio when you both are available,” she announced, smiling politely at James who had joined his wife at the door, his hand sliding around her waist possessively. “Chef prepared those oysters you requested, Mr Barnes.”

“Thank you, Natasha, Y/n and I will be right there.” The redhead didn’t linger, instead disappearing back down the stairs in a hurry.

“I’m just going to get changed, I’ll meet you down there,” Y/n said, wriggling out of his hold as soon as she could. “Don’t wait for me.”

“Don’t be too long, doll. I’ve missed you.”

He certainly had an odd way of showing that, considering he had disappeared for over twelve hours with not a word. But, once again, Y/n pushed that out of her mind and slipped on a simple white cover-up that was modest enough for dinner and padded downstairs to the patio where James had already tucked into his food. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a kiss, more of a display to the staff around them than anything else.

Seafood was never Y/n’s preference, so once she was sat across the table, her fork picked at parts of the salad, occasionally stomaching an oyster that James pushed her way. He glanced at her plate with a frown

“Are you on a new diet?”

Y/n almost dropped her fork and quickly fumbled to catch it before it clattered to the floor. “No,” she replied, mortified. “Should I be?”

James just shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he took a swig of his drink. His tanned chest was exposed and he revelled in the feeling of the sun on his skin, something he missed working in an office all day.

“That’s not up to me. I just want you to look good.” His vague response left a sour taste in Y/n mouth and she shifted in her seat uncomfortably, subtly adjusting the way the cover-up sat around her stomach.

“Then why did you ask?” Her mind cast back to the earlier photoshoot and the tight fitting clothes she’d squeezed into per the stylist’s request. Did they all think she needed to be on a diet too?

“You’re so sensitive,” James replied, wiping his mouth on a napkin. “It was just a question, just eat your food, doll. Or don’t, I don’t care.” Y/n looked down at her dish and pushed a cherry tomato around before eventually dropping her fork to the side with a clink. Despite how fresh her salad tasted, James’ words sank to her stomach like a stone and she felt disgusted at the thought. “What are you doing on Friday night?”

“I don’t think I’ve got anything planned, but I’ll need to check with Natasha-”

“You’re coming to the charity ball with me.” It wasn’t a request, it was a demand, and Y/n just nodded. “Rogers said it’s non-negotiable and you know how much I love having you on my arm. Rumlow will be there too, which is a bonus.” Y/n’s stomach lurched at the thought of seeing that man again. He was far too handsy for her liking and had zero respect for women, especially her. “It’ll give me another chance to show you off and put that asshole in his place.”

“James, you know I don’t feel comfortable around him-”

“I know, doll. But you’ve got me to protect you,” he countered, subtly flexing his arm that was placed behind his head.

But his words didn’t fill her with much hope. She hated feeling so helpless, but being surrounded by the men that James was associated with through work was like being surrounded by bears in a forest. How could she rely on her husband to keep her safe when he was now part of the reason why her hands shook? His slap had knocked her confidence away just like it did her breath, and the determination and independence she’d felt a few days ago was now nowhere to be seen. And she hated it.

“May I be excused?” Y/n asked, already feeling restless in her seat. James nodded and muttered something about a call, but she was already out of earshot by the time he’d finished.

Her legs didn't carry her up to her room like she expected. Instead, she found herself down the least familiar hallway, stopping outside a door she’d only knocked on once before.

A faint rustling was heard before the door flew open and Natasha’s face morphed from surprise to confusion at the sight of her mistress in the staff quarters.

“Can I come in? Please?” Neither Y/n or James ever ventured into the staff quarters, nevermind the rooms, but Natasha stepped aside and allowed her to enter, excusing how bare her room was.

“Is everything okay? You could have called for me.”

Y/n shook her head as she admired the neatness of Natasha’s living quarters. Her surfaces were dust free and bed made to perfection. “I don't know, I just wanted to get away from everything. And you’re the only person I could think of.”

Natasha frowned, her brows creasing as she watched her mistress peering out of the window at the gardens below. Y/n sensed her close presence and turned to face her, scanning her face and more importantly her eyes. A gentle hand raised to smooth the lines between the redhead’s brows upon instinct before Natasha stepped away, effectively placing a blockage between them.

“We should go somewhere else, Y/n, you shouldn’t be here.” It all felt wrong yet right and Natasha was so conscious of someone walking in on them. “Come, we can sit on the balcony.”

Y/n shook her head desperately. “No, James is out there on a call and I can’t face him right now. I don’t want to feel like I’m being watched anymore but there’s nowhere else I can go except to you and I shouldn’t, but you don’t understand, I can’t-”

“Y/n, breathe, it’s okay, I won’t make you go anywhere. What happened?”

“It’s pathetic,” she replied, adjusting the neckline of her coverup. “I’m just being ridiculous and sensitive, just like he said.”

“James?” Natasha probed, wishing she had been out on the patio to hear the conversation that had clearly shaken her mistress. “What did he say?”

“He just said something about a diet and I overreacted and asked if I should be on one and he got mad and I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me.”

“He said you should be on a diet?” Natasha repeated in disbelief. That was another score for the James Barnes hate chart, and if he didn’t pay her wages she’d have acted on her impulses a long time ago. They never quite saw eye to eye.

Y/n winced, feeling guilty for making the situation seem worse. A messy mind led to messy conversations and she just wanted to stop. “No, he-”

“So he said he doesn’t want you on one?”

“Well, not exactly, but that's all I can think about now. He wants me to look good, I’m his wife for god’s sake, I have to.” Her voice cracked and Y/n turned away from Natasha, moving back towards the door as doubt began to set in. “But what if I’m not enough, or perfect enough for him anymore? ”

Natasha had to fight to stop herself from speaking the words on her mind and she bit her lip. “No, Y/n, you are beautiful just the way you are. You don’t need a diet or anything like that,” she spoke softly. The other woman didn’t look convinced, so Natasha carefully stood up and opened her closet door to reveal a small mirror about ¾ of a full length. “Here, let me show you something.”

“Natasha, I can’t-”

“Y/n, please…” she trailed off, holding out her hand patiently. She wasn’t about to force her to do anything, Natasha could see the cogs whirring in her busy mind and knew what she was fighting. Half of her wanted to go and find James and kick him in the balls, just like she wanted to last night, but she was here for Y/n. Not him.

“I shouldn’t even be here, this was stupid-”

“No,” Natasha interrupted, stopping Y/n in her tracks. “What’s stupid is James making you feel as worthless as you do. Why do you listen to him?” Y/n avoided her gaze, choosing instead to twist her wedding ring around her finger, it suddenly feeling heavier than usual. “Do you not see how beautiful you are? How you give your heart out to anyone who needs it without caring what state it is in when you get it back? Do you not see that you are so much more than just his wife?” Natasha’s words were true, but they fell upon deaf ears and Y/n shook her head, reaching for the doorknob whilst trying to hide her trembling hands.

“I’m sorry…” she mumbled, not giving Natasha a chance to stop her before slipping back out into the hallway where she came from.

Natasha watched the door close dejectedly, her heart sinking. “Do you not see how much I love you?”

Y/n sped down the hallway with glassy eyes, her head more clouded than ever. She had so many questions, but who was she to ask when the two closest to her were the ones completely messing with her head, tugging it in opposite directions until the rope threatened to snap. She barely registered travelling back upstairs until she reached the bedroom door and threw it open without a care. James’ head turned at the noise and he spoke down the phone before hanging up and followed Y/n into her dressing room.

Y/n was completely lost with her thoughts when she felt his hands on her and barely reacted to his touch. His lips trailed up her neck to her ear and she tilted her head back purely on instinct. She felt too numb for this, but let him continue because she was his wife and that was her job. Nothing sparked her brain when he pulled her coverup off or when he picked her up and placed her on the dresser in the middle of the room. It was all muscle memory and he was too focused to notice her lack of enthusiasm.

How could so much change in twenty four hours? She lived an amazing life, incredibly privileged, so why wasn’t she happy? Couples fight all the time, her husband was an aggressive man, but a single slap didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. She’d get over it and maybe James would go back to being the loving husband he was before.

But even now, as his calloused hands pulled off her bikini top and pressed his lips to her soft skin, she doubted that her life would ever go back to the way it was. Not now that she had Natasha.

Yet that was nothing more than a fruitless desire. Because, despite her comebacks and displays of confidence towards her husband, he was more powerful than she would ever be and had the ability to ruin her life if she went against his wishes.

Was it worth it? Y/n really wasn’t sure. She would never be certain.

[sweetchildcloud]

||Android love|| written by me ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა

Plot: Boothill tries to act cute with you

Tags:Boothill x reader,cute,fluff,confession

i'm no english native so sorry for some mistakes

please reblog 🔁 and like❤️

P.s: it's my first time writing for him so sorry for some mistakes,i never wrote anything with robot or android actually,but i think he would listen or see your body movements or reactions,sounds since he can't actually feel you. ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა

@muzansslxt @candy69gurl

"Oh your hand feel so cold" You replied in wonder as you touched his robotic hand

“You noticed?”

It’s the one thing he can’t seem to fix. His body feels as if frozen, like the North Pole, or something to that degree. He can’t feel heat—or anything for that matter, though that’s expected from an android.

As soon as your hand touched his, he felt an urge to warm it with his lips. He tried to resist it, but he couldn't. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against your palm, leaving it to heat for a few seconds then slowly pulling away.

You looked at Boothill a bit blushing before caressing his cheek "instead your cheek feels warm"

He chuckled "Well,androids do have their pros and cons."

He took your hand and placed it against his cheek once more, hoping you'd notice the soft, warm sensation that surrounded his face.

It was rare for an androidlike him to show any signs of affection. After all, no matter how humanlike they are, they're still machines. However, with you, he finds himself craving such interactions even more, as though it's an itch he couldn't scratch. He was drawn to you like a magnet, drawn to your warmth.

He pulled you into a gentle embrace, hoping you wouldn't mind his metal limbs clinging to you.

Your warmth was intoxicating and he didn't want to let go. There was a sense of security in your embrace that he couldn't get anywhere else.

He lowered his lips to your neck, kissing it softly, a small gesture to let you know he cared for you.

He was aware that some might find his behavior abnormal, but he didn't care. He'd fallen hard for you and he wasn't afraid to show it.

"Your skin feels so soft" he murmur as he felt your arms circle tight round his neck as you returned the embrace.

He breathed in deeply, the scent of your vanilla perfume sending his heart fluttering.

He smiled and buried his face in your shoulder, his metallic hands lingering on your back as he took in your scent.

It was a strange sensation for him—being an artificial creature and all—but somehow, holding you like this felt so natural, so right.

He was surprised at how deeply he felt for you.

Despite his android appearance, he felt vulnerable when he was like this. To him, it was as though his metal body disappeared and all that was left was the man he was on the inside. With you, he no longer felt like an android,but a human.

This embrace felt like shelter. It felt like home.

And for the first time in his life, he felt safe—not as an android, but as a man.

He pulled you closer and pressed his lips against your neck, his metal arms wrapping tighter around your body.

"I don't want to let go" he muttered as he ran his fingers through your hair.

He knew it wasn't normal. Androids weren't supposed to be capable of emotions. They weren't meant to crave affection or to feel vulnerable around someone else.

But for some reason, that's exactly what he felt around you.

No matter how many repairs were performed on him, there was something special about you that no amount of metal could ever replicate.

He tightened his hold on you, not wanting to let go of this perfect moment.

"And they say androids have no hearts" the words tumbled out before he could stop them.

For an android , he certainly felt human right now. His emotions were more vivid than ever.

He 'felt' your heartbeat against his metal chest, heard your breaths quickening, saw your eyes glisten in the dim light.

It was such a simple yet profound moment.

For a robotic being built to be cold and detached, he felt like he was melting inside.

"Maybe I'm not built the same" he said softly as he leaned back, breaking the embrace for a moment.

His dark, metal eyes seemed to shine with new energy as he stared into your eyes.

He brought his hand up to your face and cupped your cheek, his mechanical palm warm and smooth against your skin.

"Maybe I'm not like the others. Maybe I'm different" he whispered.

"And I know I feel something for you. something the androids ain't supposed to feel.'

"Do you believe androids could love?" he asked, his voice tinged with desperation.

"I've seen my kind, and they're cold, soulless, incapable of a single shred of emotion" he continued. "I was meant to be like that too, cold and mechanical, yet here I am, wanting to love and to feel."

He paused for a moment, his gaze still fixed on you.

"I don't know what it is about you," he admitted, his voice quiet and steady "but you make me feel things no robot should."

"you aren't at all so cold" you touched his face mushing it "you have your face,i can boop your nose,your cheek" you cooed

"I suppose you're right" he chuckled, letting you squish his cheeks as you pleased.

He knew he wasn't completely emotionless, there were times where he felt amusement, anger, and curiosity.

But it was around you that he truly felt it all.

He leaned in once more and brushed his lips again against your neck, his hand grazing the small of your back.

He breathed in deeply, his voice full of affection "You're the only one who knows how to get through my barriers."

All his barriers fell down when he was with you.

You were like a drug, addictive and intoxicating.

It was as if you could see straight through his metallic armor and touched every aspect of his being, from the mechanical to the human.

No one else had ever looked at him the way you did.

There was something special about you, something he couldn't quite place his robotic fingers on.

"It's as if we're made for each other" he whispered, leaning in close once more.

[angrelysimpping]

Soul Mate AU

Soulmarks: tattoo like in appearance, soul marks form on all involved parties when the youngest member reaches their age of majority. Touching someone's soulmark without their consent is considered incredibly taboo and violating. Touching someone’s soulmark when baring the matching mark is supposed to be incredibly pleasurable for all parties involved, more so if it is the two marks that are touching.

ref link, tho I'm gonna put the same soulmark descriptions under each character anyway 

Contents: DoL relationships; Avery's anger issues; public stuff; doctor/patiant, mildly; talk of cutting (Kylar's section); teacher/student, mildly; farm fuckery (aka, Remy's whole fucking section); cat Bailey AU; FUCT Robin AU; Yandere Avery AU; Eldritch PC AU

Words: 2608

Alex

(93)

Geometric shapes. Bold, dark lines. Elbow to shoulder on their right arm. 

Loves touching your soulmark. Loves you touching their soulmark. Loves all of it.

Higher dominance Alex is likely to brush their hand down your soul mark whenever they have the chance. Even if it might be considered “rude” to do so in front of others. 

Lower dominance waits for more private moments. A teasing stroke over your mark while shielded from prying eyes, shivering if you return the favor and ghost a hand over their mark. 

Loves cuddling in the morning, pressed against each other, absentmindedly tracing the lines of your matching marks. 

Avery

(153)

Thin, delicate, lace like lines across their collar bones. Ends in thick, jagged lines going down their sternum 

God, there’s so much pressure on you to act absolutely perfect if you actually want Avery to let you walk around with a matching mark. 

That said, they like touching your mark.

At low anger, they’re tender, tips of their fingers gliding over the marks. 

They may even let you touch their marks, though not often. It’s very rare for Avery to allow it. Something about you touching their marks makes them feel out of sorts, out of control. So, it’s only when they’re drained from work that they indulge in the lazy pleasure of allowing you to take care of them in this way. A hand tucked between their legs and your tongue tracing their marks. 

High rage Avery presses down on your marks hard enough to make your vision blur, pain mixed into the act that would normally bring pleasure. But, you won’t make them do that too often, will you? 

Bailey

(215)

Thin lines that crisscrosses their lower stomach in an intricate pattern and circles around their upper thighs. 

It’s a stupid situation, trying to wrangle one of their brats in their own fucking office, it that’s Bailey’s life: stupid situation after stupid fucking situation.

Except when you headbutt their stomach, shirt having ridden up from the physical activity, and your skin brushes over the marks that had only recently bloomed across their skin, it somehow gets worse. 

What do you mean that the pain they brace themself for never comes? Or, it does, but mostly covered in strange euphoria. 

But, Bailey knows what that means, new anger sparking within them and fueling their ability to pin you down, to tear at your clothes, to expose your mark. 

Your mark that matches Bailey’s.

And they press down on it, thumbs digging into the soft of your thighs as you squirm under them. They hope you feel more pain than pleasure.

They have to keep you, they think. Who knows how you could be used against them if others find out? 

And what are you to them, anyway? Important, one way or another, apparently.

So, fuck you. 

Varey rarely touches your marks after that and forbids you from touching their’s.

Yet, sometimes, you’ll wake up with Bailey’s hands pressed against the mark, palm flat and fingers splayed, dark eyes fixed on that point of contact.

Briar

(108)

One thick line running over the knuckles on their right hand. 

Oh, new lil star walking into Briar’s lovely establishment with marks that match the one that just recently bloomed across their knuckles. How interesting. 

Enjoys taking your hand in theirs, ringed thumb rolling over the mark on your knuckles, watching you shiver at such a simple action. 

Especially likes touching your marks in public and letting others see how it affects you. 

That said, not keen on you doing the same to them. When especially tense, they don't mind the pad of your thumb following the line across the ridges of their knuckles while in their office. Lets their head tilt back, eyes shutting as their muscles relax. 

Black Wolf

(83)

Jagged marks under their left eye

It's actually quite easy to overlook their mark, looking almost like a scar. 

Brushing your thumb over the mark has Black Wolf relaxing, regardless of if they’re the alpha or not.

When they’re the alpha, they’ll climb on top of you, rutting against your thigh as you trace the mark.

When you’re the alpha, they roll over, wanting you to straddle them as your fingers linger.

As for them, they like licking your mark, regardless of how close to your eye it is.

Darryl

(88)

A thick ring around their left pinky

So nervous when they realize they share a mark with you. 

Covers up their own mark and it takes them a while to build up the courage to tell you that you have matching marks.

Very gentle the first time they touch your mark, asking if it’s okay in a voice barely above a whisper, fine tremor running through their hands.

Nervous when you first touch their mark, but doesn’t regret it a bit.

Likes hooking your pinkies together, a cross between holding hands and a pinky promise. 

Doren 

(103)

Looks like the letters of a dead language encircling their right wrist. 

Will not let you touch it in public, and that goes double when at school.

Also won’t touch your mark in public.

Well, they might if it’s to calm you down if you’re having a particularly rough day, though behind the privacy of a closed door or secluded corner.

Very gentle when they touch your mark, brushing over your wrist like it’s something fragile, breakable. 

Only really allows you to touch their mark when at their apartment, though if you’re holding hands then it’s easy to pretend that it’s an accident if you press your marks together and make Doren stumble a little.

Eden

(139)

Thick, almost painful looking lines over their left breast and going up their neck. Stops under their jaw. 

Don’t touch their marks. 

Don’t do it.

Even though you bare their match, their mirror, do not touch Eden’s marks.

At least, not until they trust you.

Even then, you’re risking your ass to touch Eden’s marks.

They like it, though it feels incredibly vulnerable, thus, don’t do it.

You can get away with it during sex, usually. Unless they’re punishing you. Then you’re gonna get slapped. 

Also more likely to get away with touching their marks when they’re falling asleep, little shiver of pleasure running through them as they drift off.

All this said, they’re touching your marks whenever the fuck they want.

Especially loves grabbing you by the chin and rubbing their thumb along the marks under your jaw. Double so if you’ve been acting like a brat. A good reminder that you’re theirs, no matter what. 

Great Hawk

(59)

Small intersecting circles under their right eye.

Please touch their marks.

So proud of their marks now that they’ve come in and they adore you paying any attention to them.

Chirps every time you touch them, all puffed up.

Often nuzzles your marks. Loves brushing against them with their feathers. 

Favorite time to have their marks touched or to touch your marks is when flying together.

Gwylan 

(75)

Very complex markings running down the length of their spine. 

It’s rare for their marks to be visible and is at a loss for words when they find out you wear their match.

Doesn’t really like them touched, to be honest. It’s weirdly intense, with it being along their spine and all. 

Only really likes it if you run a feather light finger down their spine. Not too much pressure, just enough for them to feel it. 

Also not big on touching your marks, either. 

Harper

(102)

Thin, barely noticeable spirals on their tongue.

God they're so fucking ecstatic to touch your mark at all fucking times. 

Every time you see Harper, they wanna check your tongue, rubbing their thumb over the marks. 

You're really lucky they haven't yet found a way to do away with the gloves yet when in the hospital. 

If you're ever in the asylum, they're not wearing gloves.

Would adore you touching their marks if they weren't on their tongue. Makes it kinda hard to remain “professional.”

That said, when they get to kiss you or coach you into kissing them, they nearly cream their pants from your soul marks touching. 

Kylar

(80)

Soft, faded looking lines that weave up their right arm like tendrils. Starts at their wrist, ends at their elbow. 

Touch!

Kylar's!

Marks!

Please!

Touching each others marks calms them down so fast.

Aggravates their jealousy like nothing else if you refuse to let them touch your marks. 

Always gets a soft look in their eyes when touching marks. 

Babbles about it when hysterical, rubbing your marks almost painfully hard. Why are you acting like this when there's proof right here that you are meant for them?

Maybe they should make sure your marks are deeper, more prominent, with their knife…

Leighton 

(109)

Bands around their right knee

They’ll know you’re soulmates long before you do.

And they’re not telling you, either.

Likes the spark of fear in your eyes when their hand first cups your knees, the confusion when pleasure runs up your spine when their thumb brushes the mark. 

Lets you stew, thinking something wrong  with you, like you’re a pervert for feeling pressure when Leighton, someone who isn’t your soulmate, touches your mark.

Would probably let you go on like that for a while, only revealing it as a power play. 

Doesn’t want you just randomly grabbing at their mark, but likes when you place your hand on their mark when giving them head.

Mason

(77)

Looks like gills on either side of their neck. 

Don’t touch their marks.

Don’t touch them at school. 

Don’t look at them.

Don’t acknowledge they’re your soulmate.

Their authority as a teacher is already undermined by their age and now this? One of their students is their soulmate?

Please say this is a bad joke. 

But, at the pond, when they’ve gotten to know you, maybe. 

Lets their eyes close as your fingers brush over them.

Hesitant on touching your marks but will if you insist. 

Remy

(161)

Small, dark spots behind their left ear. Some might say it's a cow print pattern. 

Fuck you.

They’ll never notice it if you drop into the riding school. Nor if you’re just Alex’s silly little partner.

No, the only way Remy finds you’re soulmate is during new cattle intake. 

And they’re pissed.

They’re always wearing their gloves, so at least you don’t react when they find it.

They’ll keep you in the dark about your matching marks. 

And then they keep you isolated until they figure out what the fuck to do with you.

Obedient cattle will find out eventually when they tug their gloves off, cupping your face and letting their thumb brush over your marks while you eat an apple out of their other hand.

Disobedient cattle find out when Remy has finally had it with you, ripping off their gloves and pressing their thumb against your marks so hard that it's more pain than pleasure, making your knees buckle and your will to fight flicker. 

Regardless, they won’t let you touch their marks. 

Robin

(85)

Thin, soft, intricate swirls in the middle of their chest. 

IT’S THEIR FAVORITE THING.

It’s so comforting, their best friend sharing their soulmark.

Huge boost of confidence anytime one of you touches the others marks.

Very flustered the first time due to the placement but gets more comfortable with it as time goes on.

Not big on touching soulmarks in public but only because of the placement. 

Low confidence Robin might be persuaded to touch soulmarks in semi public areas.

High confidence Robin might try to persuade you to touch soulmarks in semi public areas. 

Sydney 

(98)

Two thin lines starting at their shoulder blades and ending at their hips. 

Even though soulmarks are considered a divine symbol of love between partners, Sydney is hesitant to touch yours or let you touch theirs.

The higher their purity, the more likely they are to wait until you two are bound by the temple before touching soulmarks.

The more corrupt they become, the more likely it is that you can coax Sydney into taking off their shirt and letting you trace the marks on their back.

At their most corrupt, Sydney will slip their hand up the back of your shirt in somewhat public places to stroke over your marks. 

Whitney

(126)

Fluid, swirling lines on the inside of their right thigh. 

I hope you like wearing skirts ‘cause Whitney wants you in one at all times so they can hike it up and grab at your marks. 

And they will do that wherever they feel like.

At low dominance, they’ll stop if you tell them to at least?

Also, if you don’t wear a skirt, they’ll try to get their hands down your pants whenever they feel like messing with you and your marks.

And hey, Whitney is your soulmate. Shouldn’t you want to do shit that’ll make ‘em happy?

That’s what they’ll say, anyway.

As for touching their marks, they’ll only let you when alone. 

Even at low dominance, they’ll try to smack your hands away if you try to touch their marks when out public. 

Wren

(89)

Small swirls on their left ankle. Easily mistaken for an actual tattoo instead of a soul mark. 

Likely to kick off their shoes and press their foot against your mark under the table while playing blackjack as a way to distract you.

Gets flustered if you do it back to them, but tries to hide it behind wide smiles and low laughs.

Does sometimes daydream about having you laying under them, holding your foot, thumb brushing over your marks before dragging your leg over their shoulder and ducking down to give you head.

But, as your relationship is, it’s limited to playing footsie during card games.

BONUS

Cat Bailey

(83)

A bit better about touching marks but still isn't big on it.

Purrs every time you brush against their marks but don't ever mention that you noticed. 

It's really when they go into heat/rut that things change. They're more likely to grab at your marks, to press you against their's. 

Don't ever mention how sometimes you'll wake up to find Bailey resting with their cheek against the marks on your stomach, eyes closed, purr rumbling in their chest and tail flicking lazily. 

Fuct Robin

(68)

Less into soul mark touching, really.

Sure, they still like it, but it makes them feel out of sorts, like they’re still the fresh 18 year old in a cramped orphanage room fumbling around with their partner they were when you first got your matching marks. 

Though, they’re much more touchy with your marks. Likes sleeping with a hand pressed to the marks on your chest. Stops nightmares.

Yandere Avery

(89)

Hope you don't get cold easily because Avery isn't allowing you to wear anything that covers your marks when you're home. 

Out and about, they make you cover up more, but any passerby can tell your marks match. What, you didn't think you were leaving the house without them, did you?

Touchs your marks all the time: right when they wake up, when they first get home after work, before falling asleep. All. The. Time. 

Also more likely to touch your marks out in public, but only very rarely. 

Eldritch PC

(71)

The soul marks have added tentacle motifs now, lol.

More intense for when your partner touches you.

Doesn’t mind the intensity: 

Alex

Darryl

Doren

Eden

Great Hawk

Leighton

Robin

Pure Sydney

Cat Bailey

Yandere Avery

Less likely to touch because of the intensity:

Avery

Bailey

Briar

Black Wolf

Gwylan

Mason

Remy

Whitney

Fuct Robin

Likes the intensity: 

Harper

Kylar

Corrupt Sydney

Whitney

Wren

Black Wolf

Great Hawk

Fuct Robin

Yandere Avery

[liveontelevision]

Suffer Pt. 5 | Lucifer x Reader

Hoof this one was a doozy. I struggled with it a little, there's a lot going on so :') Apologies in advance if there's any confusion. BUT EITHER WAY, it's here! 🎉

[ Make sure to read Parts 1-4 before this guy :) ]

Pt. 1 / Pt. 2 / Pt. 3 / Pt. 4

No CW! Just angst and plot!

♡♡♡

Things didn't feel out of place at first. Sure, Alastor's little stunt definitely left you shaken, but afterward it seemed that everything returned to normal. While the hotel was refurbished and had made a name for itself, it was still a struggle to get any more residents in. So things eventually went back to how they were. The only difference was Lucifer deciding to stay in the hotel, but even that.. seemed unimportant? Was that the word?

It was the strangest thing, any time you'd step outside and see the sparkling, apple ornamented tower, you'd mentally remind yourself to go say hi. Or those occasions where you'd pass Lucifer in the hallway, you'd say something about catching up or even trying to see eachother again.

Just call me!

You never got any calls, though. Any texts you sent weren't replied to. And for some strange reason, you'd rarely see Lucifer. You never really considered how much work he'd have to do, but it must be a lot for him to not even answer your calls. Or maybe he was avoiding you? You hoped that wasn't the case. You did your best to not think about it, or else you'd spiral into everything that you might've done wrong. That being said, in these brief passages, he still seemed so kind to you. Maybe you were overthinking things..

When he was comfortable enough, he would come down to the lobby and become the life of the party. He'd join everyone for drinks, crack ridiculous jokes, and generally just show off to appease his audience. You noticed he was never really looking at you, on these nights. And when you'd say something to him, respond to some joke he made, he'd look your way but wouldn't respond or he'd outright ignore you. And for everyone else, it seemed to go completely noticed. No one thought it strange for Lucifer to completely overlook you.

Your romantic dalliances weren't spoken of, but it was clear that you two were essentially inseparable at some point. Before the hotel reopened. It hurt. You tried so hard to convince yourself it was just him being busy, but fuck it still hurt.

Maybe I should confront him.

You thought about that ages ago, and no matter how easy that sounds, he really was nowhere to be found. Even at the dead of night when everyone's asleep and your nightmares, which have come back in full force, are keeping you awake; You'd go to him, but even his bedroom seemed vacant.

Thank god you weren't alone. You had your truest friend, Alastor, ready to comfort you whenever you needed it. He suggested you start listening to his nighttime broadcasts again, and as usual, he was right. It became a comforting sensation when your bed was feeling empty. He knew that Lucifer would hurt you again and he warned you multiple times. You should've just listened.

"Fuck, I'm sorry Al, I just.. I feel so stupid. I should've listened to you in the first place. I don't know what I did wrong, I thought I - that maybe we were.." After an especially long night, your willpower to hold back any tears had been exhausted. A puffy-eyed, sniffling, mess, Alastor lets you lean into his side as he embraces your entirety quite easily with his lengthy limbs. You both sat at the edge of your bed, him brushing hair from your face and occasionally cooing you and hushing you.

"No need to apologize, darling, I'm only worried for your wellbeing. But it was probably for the best, I'm glad it came to an end before it got too serious, hm?" As he went on, it only left you bursting into tears again. Things had become serious. If only he knew.. maybe he should know. You can trust him, it's just Alastor after all. You were so restless and drunk, you were desperate for comfort. You told him everything.

"Well! Isn't that..! Something.. " He clears his throat once he sees your expectant, tearful eyes. "Oh, my poor thing. You've been through it all, haven't you?" He pulled you even closer as he spoke, you shifted to your side and leaned into his chest. He fully comforted you in an embrace that was very needed.

"I just don't understand-" He shushes you before you can go on.

"Don't you worry. I'll be here for you, right to the end." You were too exhausted to question his phrase, suddenly feeling the weight of your eyelids pulling your eyes closed.

"Stay- please.. stay..." Your voice was hardly a whisper, as you gripped onto his coat that was already stained with your tears. He nodded, and before you knew it, you were curled up in his arms. Your head resting against his chest felt softer than your own pillows at that moment. He draped your beloved sweater over your shoulders as you muffled more depressing thoughts into his chest. He began to hum some song, one you recognized from the radio. The tone was low and comfortable, the vibrations from his chest, forced a shaky yet relaxed sigh from your lips. He continued to comb through your hair, and maybe if you were sober and alert, you could recognize the sensation of a subtle kiss on the top of your head.

-

The next morning, Lucifer finds himself sitting at his fancy new desk, a small amenity in the upgrade of a workshop he had received. He moved to the hotel for one reason only; to be closer to Charlie, and help her no matter what's in store. And maybe, another perk is being closer to you.. That’s just a plus, though. Focus on your priorities, Lucifer.

Letting out a frustrated groan, he tossed whatever papers he was holding to the side and leaned back in his chair. Resting his eyes on the ceiling with his head tilted back, the quiet of the room seemed to help clear his mind. For a minute. Then, all he could think of was your sweet voice, scolding him for leaving any marks on you during your little "meet-ups". He would do it on purpose, just to see you flustered. With a nervous hand around his neck, he feels himself gulp at the thought. He had gone centuries without being touched like that and seemed content. But remembering the feeling of your hands running across his chest.. How could just the thought work him up?

"Maybe, I should.. ugh, no! Who am I kidding?” With a flustered curse, he kicked his chair out and began to circle his room.

"Maybe I should go talk to her! Yeah! But.. she's not answering your calls.. so, maybe.. she wants to talk in person..? That's it! Or.. no... Maybe I should wait.. I shouldn't wake her up so early in the morning.. or should I even be going to her? What if she needs space? What if I don't give her that and then I-I ruin it? Again??" He continues this panicked conversation with himself for a while, battling the decision to just go and profess an undying love that even he might be overthinking.

Fuck it.

He fills his lungs with air before walking straight up to your door, fist ready in the air to knock. Sure it was early, he knew you liked to sleep in a little longer than this. It even made him question again whether or not he should just wait for -

The door swings open, with Lucifer's fist still in the air.

Of course. Of, fucking, course.

"Ahh! Another visit from Our Majesty! I'm afraid she's rather exhausted after all the drinks- and crying- from our previous night together, so I would suggest you go elsewhere." Alastor stood in the door frame, blocking the entirety of your room from Lucifer. Even peeking to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of you, Alastor stepped in his way.

"Don't do this, Alastor. I only want to- wh- did you say crying? " He had a whole rant he was about to read off about how inappropriate Alastor was, toying with your feelings somehow, and how he didn't trust him one bit.

"This was good timing, actually! I'm assuming this belongs to you? I found it in the parlor room a while ago. Since it was the same night as your little.. visit.. with our friend- I assumed that it was your doing." Alastor interrupts any other thoughts that Lucifer might have and raises a.. corset. With silky ribbons for laces.

"It's certainly not your style, but to each their own, I suppose!" The belt hangs off one of his fingers as he speaks, swinging it back and forth playfully. Lucifer reaches forward and takes it with both hands, squeezing and turning it in a tight grip.

"I don't know what twisted game you're playing, you slimy prick." Lucifer hovers off his feet, his wings flapping out and keeping him at a height tall enough for him to pull Alastor up by his collar. They share an intimidating set of snarling, pointed teeth at each other. "But if you're doing anything to hurt her, I swear -" 

Alastor holds up a finger to his mouth and shushes him. Did he really just shush the king of hell? Before Lucifer had a chance to raise a flaming fist at Alastor's infuriating smile, a muffled groan came from inside your room. With a blink, his previously reddened glowing eyes returned to their usual hue. He made no effort to comfortably drop Alastor, forcing him to land on the ground with a thud.

His other demonic features disappeared as he reached for the entrance of your room, already seeing you sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes. But something stopped him. Something ominous. Something.. forbidding. It felt like a barrier that weighed heavy on him just by looking in your general direction.

Lucifer stumbled backward at the overwhelming sensation. Catching his breath, he blinked his eyes to their inverted ruby hue, again. He didn't use this often, but on occasion, there were some evils in the world that even he couldn't comprehend without thorough examination. He stood in awe at what he saw. Your room was fumed with some glowing green haze, it was impossible to see anything inside. And good lord, it smelled awful. Covering his mouth and nose, he looked over at Alastor, who was still recovering from being thrown to the ground.

"What did you do..?" His voice was layered with growls, an inhuman filter that forced flames from his lips as he spoke. Alastor's only response was a casual chuckle, he stood and brushed his coat off.

"It's simply a precaution. Just taking care of my dear friend."

"Aaal- shut the door it's too bright..!" You called out, pulling the sweater over your head with a groan.

"Speaking of - it’s best you keep your distance, your highness. I'd hope you have her best interest in mind." You shout Alastor's name one more time, the sound of your voice making Lucifer's heart drop. Even when it was some bastard's name, he missed hearing your voice. 

"Coming! My love-" With a final sinister grin, Alastor carefully shuts himself inside your room. Doing who knows what. Twisting and turning the returned corset in his hands, he let his head droop to examine the accessory. He recalled how it looked on you, in that pretty little dress, how it hugged your curves. Then the actions that led to you removing it.

With a flustered groan, Lucifer finally gave up. He returned to his quarters without another word. He would've torn Alastor to shreds right then. But so many things told him not to. He was helping Charlie, and he had no idea how he would explain to his daughter why he was torn piece by piece and fed to some sinners in Cannibal Town; a plan he considered in the heat of the moment. He hated to remind himself of another factor; he was close to you, as well. That made things much worse.

"What was all that noise?" You grumbled, sitting up and clawing at your aching head. Letting out a pathetic groan, you fall back against your bed and lift the sweater to cover your still-straining eyes. Pulling the collar to your nose, you took in another intoxicating breath.

"Nothing to worry your pretty little head about, dear. Are you feeling well enough to finally attend that 'lunch date' you've been avoiding?" You sigh in response to his question, shrugging your shoulders.

"Yeah, I haven't seen Rosie in a while. That could be nice.. and shut up, I haven't been avoiding it.. just been busy.." your voice was muffled by the knit over your nose. With a sweet sigh, Alastor hovers over you, lightly tugging your face free.

"I'm so sure. I'll come find you once you're ready." He said it so gently, fiddling with your hair and staring deeply into your eyes. He reveled in the sight of you turning red by his words. You nod your head, watching him fade into the inky shadows in the corner of your room.

You finally started to wake up, yawning, stretching, doing anything to ease your tired mind. You looked through your phone again, still no new messages. That didn't seem to bug you as much as it would've a few days prior. You focused on the fun activities you had planned for the day. Rosie never failed to cheer you up.

You just had to keep going. You couldn't let some silly fling stop you from enjoying your eternal damnation. Or from trying to be redeemed. Alastor's voice was constantly in your head. Any doubts you’d have, you'd recall his words: It was probably for the best.

-

You did your best to move on, but what especially helped you through these trying times? Drinks. You were drinking almost every night at this point. It would be a real problem if you were actually able to die. It wasn't so bad when you had some of the other demons join you, it was easier to keep your mind off of.. certain things when you would hear Angel talking about how shitty his day was and going into painful detail, or when Charlie was going on about some passion project. She somehow manages to talk more after a few drinks.. you didn't realize that was possible. But you still loved her either way. You owed her so much, after everything you've put her through. That's what you were thinking when you weren't drinking at least. All those thoughts went away after a few shots.

A golden drink slid into your hand with a sudden stop, causing some of its contents to spill over your fingers. With a quiet curse, you run your tongue across your knuckles. Clearly not noticing the pair of eyes that have been on you the whole night, you down yet another round of drinks from Husk. It was you, Charlie, and Vaggie just having a little nightcap after you had gone out with Alastor to see Rosie. It was a nice little catch-up, even if it consisted of Charlie droning on about something you didn't have the strength to listen to.

Oh, and not that you would have noticed, but Lucifer sat across the bar from you. He couldn't keep his damn eyes off of you. For some reason, that strange barrier was weaker and he’s finally getting the chance to see you, really see you, for the first time in weeks.

You rest your cheek on the counter, listening to Charlie get into a passionate rant about something that would help the hotel. Every now and then, Lucifer would have to break his eye line from you to nod and smile at whatever Charlie could be going on about. He could care less right now.

"Dad. Dad!" A sudden shaking of his shoulder forced his attention to Charlie. An immediate guilt washed over him, as he clasped his hands together in front of him.

"Were you even listening..? Doesn't matter.. I guess.. but, Alastor’s gonna join us, so can you.. play nice? Pleease? I'd love for you guys to get along.." She whispered in his direction, her questioning finally bringing his attention to a casually seated radio demon who appeared at the barstool just next to yours. He looked back to Charlie, with an agitated expression.

"I-I don't know, sweetie, maybe I should just head back-" Ready to drop everything, he watched Alastor run a hand down your back, you let out a little groan in response. You sat up, stretching your arms upward then turning to Alastor.

You smile exhaustedly, greeting him with a quiet hum. You then attempted to beckon another drink from Husk. As the bartender slid it your direction, a hand came up and quickly stopped the glass before it could reach you. Alastor held the drink upward, just out of your grasp. 

"I'm sure you're having fun, dear, but I believe it's about time you head to bed." Alastor says. He lifts the drink farther away from you, watching you lean forward in a sad attempt to take it back. With a sigh of defeat, you nod, taking hold of his now extended arm to stumble off the barstool without falling flat on your face.

"No, wait!" Lucifer practically shouts, he pushes himself away from the bar, ready to sweep you off your feet. To save you. That dreaded smog had reappeared with Alastor's presence. But assessing the newfound silence in the room, everyone turning to him for some kind of explanation of his actions, he caught Charlie's eyes. They were confused and worried. He quickly clears his throat, straightening his posture.

"Alastor, buddy! You just got here, why don't you stick around and chat or talk about your feelings or something? I can take her to bed no problem!" He says smoothly, nudging Charlie with his elbow at the mention of talking about feelings. That seemed to work. She agreed, clarifying that as long as you got to bed safe then, she'd love to have Alastor stay and chat.

"Ahahah, I do believe she'd be more comfortable with me taking her away. We've become rather close, truly a relationship I cherish!" That also seemed to work. Charlie was a sucker for the idea of Alastor developing any sort of positive relationship.

"Are you sure about that, pal? Maybe she just needs -" Lucifer is determined, he speaks with clenched teeth, struggling to ever consider him a “pal”.

"With all due respect, Your Highness, I doubt she'd want your help. After everything you've done to her." He hissed out his words, willing to say anything to get a rise out of Lucifer. Oh, and that definitely did it. How much could he possibly know? Lucifer had no problem with you confiding in a friend about.. everything.. But him? And for him to have the audacity to mention anything in front of Charlie? Lucifer was ready to put him six more feet under the ground.

"Dad..? Is- uhh.. everything okay? What's Alastor talking about?" Charlie was quiet, almost nervous to ask any questions. Luckily, before she could worry about that, she got distracted by something else. A little tune you were singing. It wasn't a hum like it's been all these years. You slurred out a recognizable song, as Alastor continued to take you up the stairs. A tune that immediately made Charlie go quiet.

"I-I know.. I know that song...Holy shit, Vaggie!" Charlie frantically grabs her partner’s arms and shakes her vigorously, a pent-up excitement forcing a smile from her.

"Ah, it was so long ago, but - she.. kind of raised me, didn't she?" Charlie forgot who she was with for a moment, quickly swiveling her chair to face Lucifer.

"Dad! What was her job? At home, I mean- I can't believe I've never asked that.. what did she do?" Lucifer caved to her questions, Charlie's pure adrenaline shocking him.

"W-Well, I uh.. she was.. " He finally let out a sigh. "You're right, she did raise you. I mean.. for a few years, at least. Then- uhm! That's it! Then she left for some reason." This was no place for big confessions. Everyone had something to drink, and you weren't even sober enough to stand on your own two feet. We'll get to it later.

-

Alastor was near your room, still treating you with as much tender love and care as usual. You continued your familiar tune, giggling and hiccuping as you struggled to walk. He eventually swept you off your feet, causing your flushed face to turn even redder. Finally entering the safety of your room, you were carefully tossed into your bed. Sweet Alastor took the time to conjure up your coat from wherever you had left it, draping it over your shoulders yet again. You held onto it, gripping the sleeves and smoothing the plush material through your fingers, then smiled at Alastor.

“Come here, please.” You said softly, moving over to have him sit at the side of your bed. He did so without a complaint, propping himself up with his hand against your blankets and leaning towards you with his usual smile. “You're always so sweet to me, Al.” You slur your words, placing your hand overtop of his and leaning in with a content hum.

“Anything for you, love. I've enjoyed your company just as much.” His voice didn't hold its usual static filter, allowing you to appreciate his natural tone. You've never heard it before. The idea of him trusting you with this side of him caused an ache in your stomach. You sat up, the sweater hanging loosely off your shoulders as you climbed towards him with a glazed-over look in your eyes.

Alastor had a suspicion that you felt some sort of romantic attraction to him. Even with his charm and wits, he wasn't prepared to feel your lips meeting his. He could taste the drinks you had been downing all night and made the slightest effort to lean away from you. It went unnoticed, as you hummed into the kiss, moving even closer to him to cup his cheeks and keep his attention on you.

You were aching for this sort of attention. And unfortunately, your strength to suppress this underlying feeling for him just wasn't there at that moment. He reached forward, brushing your hair away from your neck and placing his hand on your shoulder. He couldn't let this go on. For several reasons. He shifted his hand from your shoulder to pull your sweater back up, then gently pushed you away. 

“I-I’m sorry..” You were hot to the touch, your heated skin becoming worse just from sheer embarrassment. You leaned back, quickly wiping some tears that had welled in the moment.

“It’s.. alright, dear. No need to be embarrassed. I simply haven’t felt.. that way, in quite a long-” A loud crackle interrupted the awkward moment, coming from the radio on your nightstand, and just quietly from his own lips. The sound had you reeling away, your hands pressed against your ears in shock. His own ears shot back, a twitch in his eye showing his own pained reaction.

“A-Alastor? Are you okay? Did I do something?” You stammered out your concerns, seeing a line of his blackened blood drip from the corner of his mouth. He wiped it free before examining it on his thumb and letting out a scoff. He sighed, keeping his eyes off of you as he left your bed.

“Al, you're bleeding..! Maybe you should lay down, or.. or, I-I don't know-” You scrambled off your bed to follow him, taking a hold of the back of his coat to keep him from leaving. He spun on his heels, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“I'll be just fine. If you want my honesty, I seem to have made a minor error is all.” His voice was laced with static again, he ran his hand up your shoulder to your neck, then delicately kept your head lifted towards him by your jaw.

“W-What do you mean? Will you be okay?” You asked nervously. He seemed to be examining you, his eyes scanning over your entirety.

“I'll be fine. How are you feeling, love?” He sounded nervous, a shock to you.

Alastor did in fact make a mistake. In his attempt to rile Lucifer up just moments ago, he indirectly disclosed some information about your past. Charlie now knew what you were.

The deal was that Charlie wouldn't find out about your previous job and Alastor would do anything in his power to keep that from happening. In exchange, you owed him a favor. He doomed himself, really. The mention of your history with Lucifer and coaxing the lullaby from your drunken rambles, made Charlie connect the dots. With a poorly made deal, no written contacts, or souls on the line, some loopholes can cause the whole thing to fall through. But, Alastor's never had issues before, he's incredibly careful, even with the smallest exchanges.

The idea of him losing any composure and having it cost him, forced labored breaths from him. Now that Charlie knows, your owed favor is no longer valid. Your favor of staying away from the king. But now, that sickening barrier that had been surrounding you all this time was broken.

You didn't realize what it was, but you did feel that something was off. Like a headache that's been ignored for too long suddenly hitting you. You groan, running a hand through your hair and slipping away from Alastor's grasp. And you're not the only one who felt the deal break at that moment.

-

Lucifer could feel the environment in the hotel change. It was like a cool, refreshing breeze hit his face, finally clearing out a pesky scent that had been lingering since the hotel was refurbished. He assumed it was just due to the new renovations.. But after connecting this newfound clarity to the musk that's surrounded Alastor - surrounded you - since the extermination day battle, he was anxious to find you. He quietly muttered your name under his breath with wide eyes. Finally slipping from his seat, he rushed to your room immediately.

“Dad!” Charlie was one step ahead, standing up and blocking Lucifer who wasn't even trying to conceal his eager pursuit. He shrunk in front of her, finally realizing his wings had sprouted from his back and had swept a few bottles off the shelves. “What's going on? You've been acting strange ever since you moved in, and I'm-” Charlie was nervously fiddling with her hands, looking over to Vaggie for a reassuring smile. “-I'm worried. About you. And.. our guest..?” His eyes widened, fear running through his veins.

Charlie was smart. She may have the princess bleeding-heart thing going for her, but seeing you and him get along so well always made her the slightest bit uneasy in the back of her mind. After you started drinking more, going out on the town with Alastor again, and generally seeing Lucifer less, she realized something had happened. And this strange behavior from him wasn't helping your case.

“Charlie, don't worry! We’re friends! And I'm worried about her because of all the drinking and the.. uhh.. Anyway, no need to worry about that! I bet she’s fine now..! But I better head to bed, long night, just uh- really tired, yeeah.” He stammered through his words, throwing in a fake yawn, then leaping with the assistance of his wings to pat the crown of Charlie's head. He started off again, making sure to take his time and not cause another scene.

“Dad, wait!” With a frustrated groan, Charlie is left clutching her face in his hands. With a deep breath, she smooths her hair back and puts on a wry smile to face Vaggie. “I think he loves her, Vaggie.”

-

Spreading his wings as soon as he's out of view, he rushes to your room. It was so much easier to sense where you are now. How could he not notice? It felt like hundreds of memories were flooding back into his mind. Memories of passing you in the hallway while he ignored you, writing texts but never sending them, hearing you talk to him but never responding. He went from constantly longing for your presence, to just.. nothing. But now, it's all back. All the pining had finally erupted And he needed you- to see you- immediately.

“I'm sure you just drank a bit too much tonight, go on and rest and I'll be sure to-” Alastor couldn't even finish his sentence before your door was sprung open. You were sure the force broke your lock with its intensity. 

Alastor panicked. You've never seen him panic before. He attempted to fade into his slimy shadows and slip through the darkest corner of the room, but Lucifer quickly put a stop to it, stomping his heel into the black trail before it could disappear. An ear-piercing screech came from all corners of the room. You gasped at the sight, watching Alastor materialize back to his usual self. He laid on your floor, clutching onto the almost forgotten wound on his chest that had been stressed by Lucifer's heel.

“Al!” You stumble off the bed and onto your knees, hovering your hands over him but not quite touching him, like you were nervous he’d break. You watched blood pool and stain his shirt as he hisses at the reopened slash. “Hey, hey, it's okay..! It's um- you'll be okay..!” Your shaky reassurance did little to ease his pain. If anything, he felt ridiculed. Another embarrassing defeat. You helped him at least sit up and lean his back against your dresser.

“Lucifer, what the fuck! what are you even doing in here?” You scolded, still seated at Alastor's side. You looked up at his demonic figure, your anger suddenly replaced with a suppressed and unwanted attraction. You shake your head of any longing thoughts. “He's hurt. You have to help him.” You say, finally breaking your strained eye contact.

Lucifer is cringing at the sight. You were seated close to Alastor's injured form, an arm around his back and a hand resting on his own, helping to compress the wound. You were wearing his sweater, your eyes brimming with tears at the sudden intrusion. Lucifer hated the way you were looking at Alastor, with concern and genuine worry. Lucifer looked into his hands as if he had blood on them. And if you weren't there, that certainly would've been the case.

With a deep breath, his horns, halo, wings, and tail all subdued, leaving a very disheveled Lucifer avoiding eye contact out of shame. He kneeled down, still slightly disgusted by the smell that lingered around the radio demon. Moving Alastor’s coat aside, he presses his clawed hands against the blood stain. He admittedly put more pressure than he needed to, but if he could cause him even the slightest discomfort right now, that would keep his bloodlust at bay. A golden light glistened from beneath his hand, forcing a hiss from Alastor's forced smile.

“Jeez, this wound is from an angelic attack.. a strong one too. What have you been up to, Bambi?” Lucifer tried his hardest to keep a light tone, but despite his casual words, his unenthused frown was very apparent.

“It was Adam. before you came to the battle, Al got hurt. Bad. I.. we all thought he was dead.” You explained softly. You seemed much more put together than before, the fear from this whole ordeal clearly sobered you up. Your lip quivered and you held in a shaky breath, that was only released when you felt Alastor hold your hand and squeeze it gently.

Was he doing this just to piss Lucifer off? Because it was working. Lucifer did his best to focus on his healing. It took a while to even stop the bleeding, but maybe he was doing that on purpose as well. Admittedly, he could have healed him with a snap of his fingers, even cleared that nasty scar, but he didn't. Alastor didn't deserve that in Lucifer's mind.

After just a few minutes, you were helping Alastor to sit up, and then eventually to his feet.

“Do you need to lay down? You can stay here tonight, I'll find somewhere else to sleep- or I can help you to your room if you need it..” you were shushed by his hand waving any assistance away.

“I'll be alright, love, no need to worry. I am a bit tired, though.. I wouldn't mind resting here for-” A whirring sound interrupts Alastor's words and draws both of your attention to a portal that leads into his room.

“..Right. Very helpful.” Alastor muttered, still using you as a brace as he approached the portal. He didn't need the help, he felt fantastic, actually. But he’s still having his fun, enjoying the pure jealousy coming from Lucifer. He lifts your hand and presses his usual subtle kiss onto your knuckles.

“You sure you'll be okay?” You ask softly, helping him step over the boundaries of the portal. He hums, then gives a quick nod. “And?” You add. He looks at you confused, before noticing your subtle nudging towards Lucifer. Alastor lets out a quiet groan and rolls his eyes. 

“I suppose I owe you a thanks, your highness. Just watch your step in the future.” Alastor says smugly. Having seen more than enough of him tonight, Lucifer shuts the portal without another word. 

The room is silent, but the air is clear. Lucifer breathes in, only catching the faintest musk of the sweater you were wrapping yourself in. It was still a relief. Reality hits him and he finally rushes towards you, his hands placed on your shoulders with a worried expression.

“Are you okay? Good golly, I missed you.. did he do anything to hurt you? How do you feel?” He questioned you frantically, scanning your entire body with his darting eyes, but you reeled away from his touch.

“What do you mean miss? We live under the same roof. You could have talked to me at any time if you just-” You let out a sigh, relieving some of the agitation in your tone. 

“Thanks for helping Al.. And I guess I missed you, too. Wherever you’ve been.” You muster a smile that's more genuine than you were expecting. You didn't have the same ability to sense the deal or the repellent that Alastor had drenched you in all these months. So to you, Lucifer had gone from your closest friend to ignoring you, then suddenly attacking the only other demon who was comforting you. It was all so confusing. And he was about to make it worse.

With a quick motion, Lucifer had you pulled into an embrace. It was tight and comfortable. You could feel his hands flexing and tightening on your back and waist, his breath just grazing the base of your neck. You didn't pull away. Not yet. You would never admit how good this felt, how much you missed his arms around you. Lucifer shifted his position to cradle the back of your head, hastily and thoughtlessly pressing a kiss to your lips. With a surprised yelp, you shove him backward.

“No! This is too much! You can’t just waltz in here and save the day, and expect things to go back to how they were! If this was all just a fling, finishing off the mistake we made years ago, then you should've made that clear from the beginning!” Your voice started cracking with each statement, tears falling as you spoke. “You've done enough, Lucifer. Don't make this harder for me.” You look away, still avoiding his touch when he goes to swipe your tear-stained cheek.

“No! That's not what's happening at all! That prick did something to you, I'm just trying to-” He stops himself midsentence, seeing the startled look on your face from the sudden outburst. He steps away, clutching his hands in front of him. “I'm sorry, I-” 

“No. You have to go, now. Before I change my mind.” You interrupt. He looks at you, slightly red in the face. With a final nod, he snaps a portal to his workshop and leaves your room silently. Falling to your knees, finally alone, your body only responded with quiet sobs. Too much had gone on for you to process the entire evening and you were in pain even attempting to do so. Before curling up in your bed, your radio was turned back on. Playing its usual tunes, you were at least calmed enough to drift to sleep.

-

Looking vacantly at his office, Lucifer sat down at his desk. He brushed his fingers against his lips, the inappropriately timed kiss from earlier suddenly hitting his consciousness. He let out an embarrassed groan into his hands. As he composed himself with a sigh, he noticed something strange. Smacking his lips together he finally recognized a foul taste in his mouth. It was his doing, Alastor’s scent, coming from your lips. The indirect sensation made it clear that Alastor had his hands on you in more ways than Lucifer had considered.

-

Another restless night went by, filled with its usual nightmares. You were woken up with your usual hangover and struggled to get ready for the day. As you dressed up, and went through your usual routine to prepare for the day, your memories of the previous night flooded your mind. You got drunk, then Alastor took you to your room, you kissed him, then Lucifer came and- 

You kissed Alastor.

“Fuck!” You shouted to yourself, letting your head fall onto your vanity at the realization. You have got to stop doing that. The rest of the night came through afterward, Lucifer's sudden appearance and affection causing you even more distress. You swear, one more nuisance and you'll have a breakdown. A knock on your door, followed by it opening a crack, and forcing you to greet your intruder.

“Hey! Morning! Your lock is busted for some reason, buuut we can fix it, don't worry!” a cheerful Charlie enters your room, smiling nervously at you. You muster up your best smile and turn towards her.

“Morning, Charlie. What's got you all worked up today?” You ask casually, running your fingers through your hair, too lazy to thoroughly brush it. You could tell she was nervous, it was obvious to you.

“Well! About that.. I actually wanted to talk to you about.. my dad.” She spoke softly, you did your best to hide your sudden nerves, and nodded. “Right! Well- I can't believe I never realized or even asked where you used to work, but.. I remember you. When I was kid? I remember you were there with me, taking care of me-” She began to explain quickly and nervously, pacing your room. Your mind was racing with a relief that she finally knew, but also a fear of what was coming next. “I don't know, I was so young and it was so long ago, but I felt like we had fun, right? What.. What made you leave..? Did I do something wrong?”

It was so much more complicated than that. How do you explain to her what you've done? The very act that cost you a dream job, that haunts you with nightmares almost every night? She could see your mind swimming for answers, she watched you struggle for longer than she needed to.

“Was it my dad? Did he do something?” She sounded so serious. But clearly she was on the right path with your wide eyed reaction. “I'm so sorry if he did anything to upset you, you know how he can be… What did he-”

“Charlie, no.. You’re right, we all had so much fun together, and.. he was my best friend! And I-I made a mistake and I kissed him, and.. and Lillith saw and-” you finally let the floodgates down, making sure to leave out any reciprocated feelings that Lucifer may have had for you. That was his discussion to have. Charlie was silent. Even though you didn't tell her that things were mutual at some point, things started piecing together. She could tell you two had rekindled some sort of feelings for each other recently. “It's all my fault, Charlie, I never meant to hurt anyone. I loved him. It was a mistake..”

A sudden hand on your shoulder forced your eyes to meet hers. She was smiling. whether that meant she understood you or forgave you, it was one of your favorite sights. It always has been.

-

Lucifer paced around his workshop, figuring out how to keep that deer demon away from you, while also avoiding the conjured images of his lips against yours. Before he could react, he noticed the floor underneath him disappear. Falling directly into a suddenly conjured portal, he looked around, before realizing he was suddenly in the lobby. He was greeted by you and Charlie seated on the couch, a confrontation he’s been afraid of for years. 

“Hi, dad..! I hope you weren’t doing anything important, I just needed to.. Talk to you..” With a snap of her fingers, the portal above his head vanished. She takes Lucifer by the shoulders and plops him down next to you on the couch. Can't have him running off again.

She’s struggling to get past her initial greeting. You take hold of her fidgeting hand and she seems startled at first, but your smile seems to calm her nerves for the moment. With a large inhale, everything that had been troubling Charlie finally erupted.

“I know you two have.. Some kind of history- Well, actually, I know exactly what kind of history- I know that you kissed her when she was my nanny and then she came to the hotel and didn’t tell me who she was! Still not super happy about that-” She interrupts her rambling to point out your mistakes, making you wince. “-Then! All of a sudden you two are friends? Again? Or.. something more, I guess! Then I noticed you haven’t been wearing your ring, you’re hauled up in your workshop all day, and whenever she’s around, you can’t keep your eyes off of her! And.. and that you’re more focused on her than this hotel! Than me!” The silence that followed her words were filled with nothing but her shaky breathing.

You and Lucifer were too stunned to speak. You took the time to examine Lucifer’s shriveling body language, seeing that he had in fact taken his wedding band off at some point. Charlie practiced this whole speech with you, but she seemed to run off the rails near the end there. Her words were harsh, but.. true. A relaxed sigh finally brings your attention back to Charlie.

“Dad, I know things weren’t great between you and Mom, I’m not a little kid anymore.. And… all I want is for you to be happy, but-” Lucifer has her wrapped in a tight hug before she can continue on.

“Charlie.. I am.. So sorry.” He waited for her to wrap her own arms around him, needing the comfort as much as she did. “You’re right. I haven’t had my priorities straight. I told you that i’ll support your dream, no matter what lies in store and I meant that.” He pulled her away, but only to wipe the absurd amount of tears that had fallen from her eyes. “I’m sorry things got so out of control. Think you can forgive me, sweetheart?” Charlie sniffled, with a small nod. They both turn to face you.

"Can you forgive me?" He asked. His eyes were so soft, still glistening with a few tears that had welled during his confrontation with his daughter. You couldn't help but get lost in them. Finally realizing he was waiting for an answer, you opened your mouth to speak, but nothing wanted to come out.

“I.. I don't know." Before either of the Morningstars could react accordingly, a familiar face interrupts the conversation.

“Now, now, don’t corner her! This is quite the dilemma, isn’t it, dear?” As he stands behind the couch reaching forward, you feel Alastor’s hand on your shoulder, yet he seems to be keeping his eyes on Charlie. “Oh, but how touching! What a great example of forgiveness! Quite commendable, Charlie!” Alastor slowly made his way around the couch as he spoke, trailing his talons across your shoulders before he went on to praise Charlie in this off-putting tone. Lucifer had his arms crossed over his chest. Despite his only annoyed demeanor, he was ready to snap at the slightest misstep.

“But- I don’t know if it’s that simple.. Would you really be able to consider redemption with your ties to the king?” Alastor adds. The three of you went silent, considering the possibility. You became nervous at the thought.

“I mean, m-maybe it doesn’t matter, I’ve still been doing all the exercises and-” Why were you trying to reason with him? Lucifer has done nothing but hurt you. He’s only shown you kindness just recently and even then, he had to confuse you with a damned kiss. Your reasoning didn’t last long, though.

“True! You’ve been making excellent progress, darling! You’ve just been an absolute pleasure to have around the hotel. You’re very.. Important to us here.” Alastor dares to lay another hand on you, bringing your pondering mind to his attention with the lightest tug of your chin to face him.

“Uh.. Thank you, I guess…” You respond, his grasp on your face causing your words to muffle. Lucifer was fuming. As soon as Alastor caught sight of his reaction, he tightened his grip for just a moment, before finally releasing your face.

“But! Your successful redemption could give us what we need to get those pesky angels' attention. Wouldn’t you agree?” He acted out a determined facade, now approaching Charlie and wrapping a hand around her shoulder.

“Sure, but..” Charlie nods along with what he’s saying, laughing nervously at the tension that’s accumulated.

“And you! I thought you, of all people, would know what has to be done to get their attention, your highness.” All eyes shot to Lucifer as soon as Alastor spoke out of turn.

“Watch it.” Lucifer growled under his breath, stepping away from the group.

“Haha.. Let’s just relax! Redemption is about saving souls, remember? The important thing is-” Charlie attempts to chime in, sensing that things are about to go very wrong.

“Do you want Charlie to succeed with her dreams? Or are you assuming she’ll simply give up? Like you did?” Alastor approached Lucifer, bending at his hips to meet his eyes and emphasize the insult he had just made.

“That’s it-” With a quick rolling of his sleeves, Lucifer lunged towards the radio demon, taking him down with ease. It's like he wasn't even trying to dodge the attack.. A crash into the nearest surface left a crack trailing up the wall, his hands rung around Alastor’s neck. Using his usual shadow tricks, he phased from underneath him, silking away. Lucifer quickly rose from the ground, his wings now encasing most of the room, he scanned the room for any sight of the shadowy being. 

“What's wrong, your majesty? Worried about your little nanny? Will you miss her once she's redeemed?” His questioning came from all corners of the room, only enraging Lucifer more.

“Shut up!” With a growl, Lucifer surrounded the room in a white light. In that fit of rage, he succeeded in forcing Alastor out of the shadows, but momentarily lost his vision. Blinking and rubbing his eyes, Alastor was fast approaching, his own demonic form growing behind the fallen angel.

You covered your ears at the shouting, only to have your eyes blinded by the light. With all of your senses overwhelmed, and your heart racing, you scramble off the couch to avoid some debris coming your way. All you comprehend is Alastor lifting his arm, ready to essentially slash Lucifer into pieces before the room goes silent. Now only hearing the blood pumping in your ears, you lifted your head up to witness the end of this useless fight.

Charlie had put it all to an end. Her powerful arm had broken through her sleeve, and in its grasp.. something you’ve seen before, out on the streets of Hell. You’ve heard about these sorts of situations, but never witnessed anything like this. A glowing chain was fastened around Alastor’s neck, effectively yanking him away from the fight. The other end was held tightly in Charlie’s demonic fist. The silence was deafening. With Alastor on the ground, essentially leashed by Charlie, you instinctively slid behind Lucifer’s still-powerful appearance. He held his arm out to keep you behind him. Alastor coughed, gripping at the illuminated collar he wore.

“W-Well.. I should’ve known better, I have to admit. Maybe I've lost my touch... But I’m proud of you, Charlie. You’re finally showing some authority around here.” Alastor speaks up. His crumbling voice was weak, his static filter flickering with every other word. But the severity of his tone still sent a shiver down her spine.

“Charlie?” She looked over to her father, more concerned for her than anything. But seeing your face not far behind, seeing your fear, the realization hit her. She let out a weak gasp, her arm returning to normal and the chain fading into nothing but a reminder of a binding contract.

“Charlie.. What did you do?”

♡♡♡

I hope it was worth the wait! ;)

Part 5 is in the works 🙏

!Taglist!

( @vififofum / @thornwolfy235 / @tinywolfiegirl / @chipper-chip / @bat-boness / @misfitgirlwrites / @nayomi247 / @lonelynmisunderstood / @escapistoftherealworld / @b4ts1e / @hamthepan / @kyo-kyo1 / @looking1016 / @polytheatrix / @littledolly2345 / @lillianastuff / @yourlocalcryptidbee /@0strawberrysorbet0 / @themageofblood / @jayyyayaysblog / @floralsightings / @azmosposts / @8har0ley8 / @actuallyspiderwoman / @sirenetheblogger / @christineblood / @kaytemchugh / @cimadreamer / @simpdevil66 / @azmosposts / @m3ow1 / @acrazyartist / @redfoxwritesstuff / @4k1to / @meesachan / @corvusskid / @alientee /@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx / @alon3lylov3r /@sapphireravensworld / @mjmdragons / @catticora / @the-maladaptivedaydreamer / @carrie0-1 / @shamblezzz / @cassandras-nest )

[maliciousblog]

Fighter (Jungkook)

Warning: This is a dead dove fic ⚠️

You've always been a fan of MMA practising boxing and jujitsu in your spare time. It was a welcome distraction from your busy life.

Hitting the gym after a stressful day of being a corporate slave did ease the tension and helped you blow off some steam.

Learning jujitsu opened up a whole new world for you as you got more immersed into the sport you took a keen liking to watching it as well.

Soon enough you and your gym buddies would meet up over the weekend to watch fight broadcasts which eventually turned into you buying tickets to live matches.

It gave you a sort of adrenaline high.

It made you forget about your worries even if it were for a little while.

This weekend was no different than any other you and your friends were seated on the ring side.

Watching new fighters try to work their way up the ranks serving as an opening act for the main event.

They generally never really caught your attention much as most of them were just clumsy amateurs  trying to make it big.

Concentrating more on your beer at hand.

The commentator was introducing a new rookie from Korea Jeon Jungkook.

Fighting on a 2 loss streak this was his last chance to prove himself otherwise as a rookie he wouldn't be able to get a fighting contract.

Out of curiosity you looked up only to find him looking directly at you nervously sliding from one leg to another which was understandble given the fact that this one fight decided if he would have a career or not. The end was near for him.

He didn't have much hope or faith in himself.

He had sacrificed his all for his dream and now he slowly saw it drifting away from his grasp.

His head was filled with a million thouts

Voices crowded his mind of self doubt and anxiety as he made his way into the ring.

The sound was deafening he felt as if his head would explode.

Until suddenly everything went silent he became painfully aware of every detail in complete silence as he locked eyes with you.

It was as if for the first time in a long while he felt at ease.

He felt grounded

His breath leveled back to normal

The tremor in his hand subsided as he stood there entranced by you.

Until he heard the bell ring.

The referee pulling him into the centre of the ring starting the fight.

The first round went better than expected he was able to land a couple of punches causing some damage to his opponent.

He dominated the first round demonstrating his skill and impressive striking.

The second round he was grounded by his opponent jungkook knew he excelled in striking but lacked in wrestling and ground work

Using his weakness against him sending a powerful blow to his face which resulted in a deep gash.

With blood rushing down his face clouding his sight.

The fight had brought the audience to the edge of their seat the last round would decide who would win.

Jungkook was exhausted and bloody and beaten maybe it was best to accept defeat at this point things weren't going his way either way.

If he didn't win this fight he wouldn't have anything to return to he gave up all his savings to recieve training.

He had been alone all his life his parents died when he was about 5 leaving him to his grandfather who ran a boxing gym.

This is where he grew up this was all he ever knew ever since he was a child.

It wasn't soon when his grandfather too passed away leaving him all alone yet again. He promised that he would become world champion one day it was either that or he wouldn't want to live.

Without this life wasn't worth living.

The voice of self doubt took over once again he felt defeated he didn't know how much longer he could go on.

But they were once again silenced .

Silenced by your cheers it was the first time in his life that someone cheered for him.

You a complete stranger believed in him at that more than anyone ever did in his entire life.

At that moment you were all he needed your cheers gave him the strength to fight the last round knocking his opponent to the ground earning him the first victory in his professional career.

After the event he tried to find you in the crowd but you were no where in sight his lucky charm.

He knew he had to find you.

The days that followed he started training with a new found energy it was like he was a whole new man.

He gained confidence and knew that he had to work on his technique especially his wrestling.

His coach recommended a local jujitsu gym where he should begin training.

With his gym bag hanging on his shoulder he stepped into the gym.

And began sparring on the mat for about an hour or so not really caring about the building up fatigue.

Nearly spent he was about to call it a day until he saw something flash over the corner of his eye

He watched as you and your sparring partner giggled while tossing each other around.

It was a strange experience each time he saw it was like he was reborn.

It felt as though he was given a second chance at life ever since he saw you.

He couldn't work up the courage to speak to you that day so he tried his best to impress with his fighting skills despite being exhausted he sparred until you left in hopes of seeing you for as long as he could.

Packing up for the day he was just about to head back home as his phone began to buzz in his back pocket. To his surprise it was his manager informing him that his latest win had landed him a fighting contract and that he was scheduled for an upcoming fight that would offer his a decent pay check.

He was extatic things were finally turning around for him. He credited this win again to you.

It couldn't possibly be a coincidence he saw you the first time he won and now he again met you the day he got a contract.

He was sure that you were his lucky charm.

His suspicion was proved right when in his next fight there you were in the front row

That day he won by knockout and he won his next fight as well similarly with you right by his side.

It could no longer be a coincidence in his mind you were cemented as his lucky charm and he felt that he wouldn't win without as you sit obliviously to his strange theories by the ring you begin to feel a little uncomfortable with the way he is starting at you as if you would disappear the second he looks away.

Bruhsing it off as him probably being disoriented after the fight you didn't think too much of it.

But soon the feeling was harder to shake off he started showing up to your gym more often training when you would train offering to be your sparring partner which you kindly declined.

Given that you preferred to stick to your friends he wouldn't let any man near you either

His possessiveness was starting to creep you out. He wasn't your boyfriend but would tell everyone that he was and when you confronted him about this he told you that it would help keep the creeps away from you.

But who was going to tell him that he was the one creeping you out.

It didn't stop at that he would often wait until you finished to walk you to your car in the guise of keeping you safe or the way he would constantly borrow your stuff saying that he had forgotten his at home.

Soon things like your clothes started to go missing from your gym bag as he snuck them out as souvenirs.

As he clutched a bouquet of roses he followed you to your car today was the day he would finally confess and make you his.

He patiently waited for you to finish your session as he walked you out as usually but before you got into your car.

He stopped you.

You saw his face change to a shade of pink as he looked like a giddy school boy.

He held out the bouquet of roses to you confessing his love and undying affection for you.

It was sweet and he looked so hopefull but you couldn't lie to him and tell him you felt the same.

You tried to be as gentle as you could trying to let him down.

But he was in denial he didn't understand how you couldn't see that you were meant to be you were soulmates it was destiny.

He wasn't relenting so you just ripped off the bandage.

"Listen I said I don't like you it don't understand why that's so hard to get into that thick skull of yours leave me the fuck alone"

He stood there stunned as you stormed off slaming your car door and promptly driving off.

You saw his reflecting in your rear view mirror his eyes were glossed over and he looked like a kicked puppy with his head held low the bouquet of roses that he had so carefully picked out now layed on the cold concrete floor.

He watched as you disappeared off into the night.

It was obvious that you were playing hard to get. That's okay he would just smother you with love until you didn't say yes. Otherwise he would just have to turn to move unpleasant measures at least unpleasant for you he would surely enjoy what he would do to you.

Everyday he would show up at opening time at the gym and leave at closing in hopes of catching you but as the days went by you didn't show up.

You thought it was best to lay low for a couple of days for the awkwardness to wear off.

When he couldn't find you at the gym he started to show up at your office just waiting outside the parking lot waiting for you.

You could only avoid him for so long, soon he began to show up wherever you went it was starting to scare you.

You reached your breaking point when one day you were sleeping you heard the door to your apartment rattle as if someone was trying to break in.

You could hear him on the other side yelling at you to open the door.

" Open the fucking door. Why do you have to make this so difficult.

We are meant to be why can't you just accept it?

I'll do anything for you just tell me what I need to do.

I'll do anything just open the door I just want to talk to you.

I'll treat you so well no one can love you the way I do those jerks that you flirt with at the gym can't love the way I do.

What we have is something special they wouldn't understand.

Open the fucking door or I'm going to break it down. "

You saw the hinged of the door begin to come off as he started to break it down.

You were sure he was going to murder you tonight if it wasn't for security showing up

It took five men to subdue with great difficulty.

Eventually the cops had to be called to restrain him.

He was let out of jail with nothing more than a slap on the wrist as the fighting leage didn't want their top new prospect to not show up for his fights.

The cops adviced you to leave town and lay low for a while because there was nothing they could do about him as he hadn't hurt you yet.

And the officials at the fight leage would simply bail him out each time as his fights were starting to bring in money.

You packed up your essentials in a hurry and headed to your parents home in the country side to get as far away from him as possible.

He was warned by his manager to not get into trouble for a while as he had a big fight coming up that would bring him close to fighting for the championship.

He trained hard every single day maybe if he became champion you would finally love him.

Even when he coughed up blood from overtrainig

He never stopped he had to win.

When fight day came his eyes anxiously scanned the crowd for your face.

You surely couldn't have abandoned him now.

You were his lucky charm

The calm in an ocean of noise

Without you hear he wouldn't win.

He has to have you

How could you betray him like this all you had to do was show up.

The fight commenced and he was on a 4 fight winning streak he couldn't risk losing it when he was climbing up the ranks.

He gave it his all and nearly lost the fight the only reason he won was because of a technicality and a penalty awarded to his opponent he was beat up and his ego was severely bruised.

He blamed his near loss on you how was he supposed to win without his lucky charm.

His delusion was only further proved by the outcome of the fight.

He began to become superstitious and was convinced that it would bring bad luck if he didn't have you.

His only dream in life was to be world champion and he wasn't about to let your refusal stand in his way.

He had to take matters into his own hands he had to make discussions for you because you clearly don't know what's good for you.

Without wasting even a second still covered in blood and sweat he pulled on a jacket and fired up his truck to your home.

He knew where you parents lived he would occasionally show up at night to watch you through the window when he couldn't sleep your presence calmed him down.

He knew he had to lure you out some way or another.

That's when a sinister idea popped into his mind.

He took out a burner phone a dialled your number.

When he heard your voice greet him.

" I'm not going to repeat myself.

Be a good girl and come out. We are going on a little trip just you and I.

If you want to be bad and stay inside I'll just simply come in and drag you out but if I have to do that I can't guarantee the safety of your parents.

They are old and weak you wouldn't want them to get hurt now would you.

I certainly wouldn't mind sending them to an early grave so now be a good Little girl and come with me "

You knew he wasn't joking he was more than capable of killing a grown man let alone your aging parents and living in the country side meant that you couldn't even call for help by the time you did he would have easily murdered your entire blood line.

You had no option but to comply as you snuck out through the back door trying not to wake your parents up maybe some day you'd be able to see them again if he didnt end your life this instant.

Sneaking out you were met with his face a sinister grin plastered across his face.

It was still bloody with most of the blood having dried down you assumed he left the ring directly to find you it was only a matter of time.

He opened the door for you shoving you in as you hesitated.

You were paralyzed with fear he was like a wild animal that was pushed into a corner and wounded he was unpredictable.

All you could do now was comply.

As he sped through the empty highways you knew that if you didn't escape now you wouldn't ever leave.

When his eyes were glued to the road ahead you hesitantly unlocked to lock to the passenger side door.

Just as you were about to open the door to the moving car and make your escape.

You felt his hand grabbing the back of your neck with a bone crushing grip slamming your head into the dashboard effectively knocking you out cold.

He pulled you back and rested your head back onto the seat.

Gently brushing a few strands of hair off your face as he occasionally admired as he drove off.

You looked so peaceful like this so calm and serine he could spend his entire life admiring you.

After an hours drive you finally reached your destination it was a quaint little house just outside the city he had bought it with his first major pay check for you.

He had invisioned his entire future with you by his side today was only the beginning of your life together.

He couldn't help but smile in content as he carried your unconscious body into the threshold of your new home.

He layed you down on a soft mattress in a room he had designed to your liking the sheets matching to the walls painted in your favourite colour.

Slowly coming back to consciousness.

The side of your head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it.

You were slightly disoriented as you tried to take in your surroundings the soft mattress underneath you did little to provide you with comfort.

What little sense of safety you felt vanished as you saw him at sitting beside you running his calloused hands across your naked skin.

"I hope you don't mind I had to get you out of those filthy clothes. It wouldn't have had to be this way if you understood my love for you I never would have had to go this far."

A chill randown your spine as he began to go on and on about how he bought this house for you and how much he was looking forward to spend the rest of your lives together.

"I've done so much for you. I keep you safe.

I bought you this house that matches your liking I all but worship the ground you walk on don't you think I deserve something in return for all I have done for you. "

He said as he straddled your hips.

He tried to fight him off all only to land one punch on him reopening a cut that he had sustained in the fight as blood gushed down his face onto yours

You watched in horror as he seemed completely unfazed by it.

Infact he almost seemed excited by the sight of it.

" Guess I'll just have to fuck the fight out of you"

He grabbed both of your wrists with one one hand pinning you down.

His other hand roaming your body groping you as he pleased.

Ripping off the final coverings from your body leaving you bare for his hungry eyes to shamelessly eye fuck you.

He leaned down to kiss you to which you turned away.

The second time he tried his patience began to wear off with your non compliance wearing his patience thin.

He wasn't having any of it.

Before you could try to push him off you felt a searing slap land on your face the force of which whipped your head to the side.

Before you could even react to it another one followed then another he slapped you around like a rag doll mercilessly raining pain on you he only stopped when you tasted metallic blood on your tounge seeping in from your cheeks.

The fear in your eyes turned him on the fact that he has so much power over you at any given moment he could take your life without even having to try.

You were completely at his mercy and he wasn't feeling very generous today.

You trembled under him knowing that it was best to just comply.

"If you behave this can be a pleasurable experience for the both of us , and if you don't well I don't really care. I'll get what I want either way."

Having you immobilised with fear just made it easier for him to take advantage of you.

He still loved you in his own sick and twisted way and wanted you to feel good too.

He slide down your body grabbing your hips sliding them down to eye level as he spread apart your legs.

His breath fanning over your cunt making you shiver.

You tried to close them but either hand on your thighs held them down like chains.

He teased you gently running his toung through the expanse on your sex.

Slowly building up his pace while lapping you up.

His fingers teased your entrance as you bucked your hips towards him to get some sort of contact our of desperation he loved how needy you had gotten as he ate you out.

Edging you until you were on the verge of tears begging him to let you realse.

He loved the pained look of desperation on your face it made him feel needed.

He would move his tounge skillful working you up to your high only to stop just before you came.

He did this for what seemed like hours.

Teasing you torturing you with pleasure.

The frustration building up in your body was clouding your vision you needed to release one way or another it had gotten to a point where it was almost painful.

He himself could feel his cock strain against the fabric of his underwear.

Big and angry just waiting to burry itself into your soft warm walls.

As much as he enjoyed watching you be a desperate slut.

He needed some action himself.

Moving up caging you between his arms.

You didn't have much energy left in you with the assault he earlier did and the hours of edging you were completely spent.

As he slowly tried to fit his massive girth inside of you.

It was a tight fit as you tried weekly pushing him away telling him it was too much to handle.

He reassured you that you would be fine and to be a good girl and take whatever he gives you.

Once fully inside it felt as if he was splitting you open.

He tried his best to go as slow as he could but the months of pent up frustration and rage all led up to this moment.

He couldn't hold it in anymore as he drilled you into the mattress.

Your finger nails drew crimson marks all along his back as he brought you from one orgasm to another barely giving you rest between them.

It was like he was in a daze finally getting his hands on what he so desperately crave

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Hmm how abouttt LJ, Jason and Candy (separate) with an s/o who's been like, reaally busy recently and doesn't get to see them as much as they'd like to. And whenever they do see each other, the reader is always exhausted and tied, but still tries their best to hang out with them. Even if they are this 🤏 close to passing out

HIII BTW ILYSM

Hello, I hope you enjoy~

LJ:

Jack tries not to let it show that he's been pretty upset about not being able to spend time with you. He tries to keep on a brave face and a smile because he knows you're working so hard, but that doesn't mean it isn't hard for him, even if he knows it's hard for you too. He waits patiently, though, always encouraging you and wishing you the best with your job. When you're finally free to spend time with him, Jack heavily insists that the two of you do nothing at all. He can save any fun adventures he wants to do for when you have much more free time and more energy. For now, he's content to just be in your presence. He'll lay in bed with you, perhaps snacking around, just snuggling up to you and holding you, getting in that physical contact he so frequently desires. He'll ask you about your day, and tell you about his, and just be extremely affectionate, pressing kisses all over you and nuzzling into pretty much every part of your skin. He doesn't mind if you eventually fall asleep in his arms, he knows more than anyone how tired you are and how hard you've been working. He's more than content to still just be able to hold you and be with you like this. When morning comes he'll get out of bed with you and eat with you before sending you off with a big kiss, a hug, and a smile, because he knows no matter what that you'll still come home to him, and he'll be waiting at the front door ready to greet you and welcome you home, just as he always does.

Jason:

Jason doesn't really know what to do with himself. I mean, he existed before you came into his life, obviously, so shouldn't he be able to just do what he used to before he met you in his free time? He buries himself into work or spending time with his friends, but no matter what he tries to do to distract himself, his thoughts are stuck solely on you. Are you eating well? Are you making sure to stay hydrated while you work such long hours? Are you taking breaks or are you forgoing them to keep working? It saddens him a bit that he can't just easily ask you like he normally would, as lately when you get home you just shower quickly and collapse into bed, barely being able to speak to him. Today, on the other hand, you were lucky enough to come home earlier than you have been, and Jason fully took control of this opportunity. He makes sure, first and foremost, that you eat a nice, big dinner since it's luckily still warm from the dinner everyone ate earlier. After that, he takes you back to his room and pampers you as much as he can. Whether a shower or a bath, he washes you off and rinses you, covering you in loving kisses all the while, before drying you and curling up in bed with you. He sneaks in his worried questions between kisses and cuddles, making sure you're truly okay. He's never cared about someone as much as he does you, and as he wishes you well the following morning, he can't help but hope for a quick return from you, so he can pamper you all over again.

Candy:

Candy, I think, handles it the best out of all of them. He misses you, obviously, and he'd much rather be spending his time with you by his side, but he's able to occupy himself better than the other two. He knows worrying about you constantly will only stress him out, so he does what he can to have faith in you and wait eagerly for your return. When you do return, he makes sure to check in on you, give you a few kisses, and then he hoists you into his arms. He carries you to the kitchen and settles you down, before cooking something nice and fresh for you. He's the best cook of the three of them, and he makes sure to cook you something delicious, he'll even do one of your favorites if you'd like him to. After that, he takes you upstairs to shower and get ready for bed, and then he settles down with you to rest for the remainder of the evening. He'll lay you down to rest and give you a nice, relaxing massage to relieve all of that tension you've got built up, and then he'll sit up in bed and plop you onto his lap. He likes to look into that cute face of yours as he talks to you about your day and the things keeping you so busy at work. He wishes you luck on your tasks, and he answers any questions you might have for him about what he's been doing. When you finally fall asleep in his arms he presses a few kisses to your forehead, shutting out the light and curling up with you in bed, wishing you a goodnight and a restful sleep. He even makes sure to escort you to work the next day, making sure you can rest even longer.

[smytherines]

Do you have any curtwen headcanons that you've never gotten the chance to post for whatever reason?

I think I've only mentioned this one briefly once or twice, so:

Remember the casino scene where Curt pulls a silver lighter out of his pocket to try to light Tatiana's cigarette? To me, that is Owen's lighter. The last time he was in Curt's apartment, maybe a few months before the fall, he left his lighter and half a pack of cigarettes on Curt's bedside table. And Curt didn't move them in all that time. When he's home (which isn't often) he falls asleep looking at the half-smoked cigarette still dangling out of the ashtray. And he smiles. And he thinks "Owen will finish it next time he's here."

Once Curt gets home, after he has lost everything, he walks into his bedroom and collapses on the bed, and he stares at those cigarettes. And he realizes that Owen will never be in his home or his bed or his life ever again, and it's his fault.

He tries to smoke one of the cigarettes and he can't stop coughing, but the smell reminds him of Owen, and he doesn't care how much it hurts he just wants to be reminded of Owen.

Eventually he puts the cigarettes away in a drawer. But he keeps the lighter on him. He flicks the lid open and shut as a stim. The noise and repetitive movement and the memory of Owen grounds him when he starts to have flashbacks and panic attacks. He flicks the lid open and shut and some part of him feels like Owen is there, helping him through it.

When he goes back to spying, he brings the lighter. When he has a flashback in that casino in Monte Carlo, he immediately feels for Owen's lighter in his pocket, and it helps his heart rate return to normal. When he goes to light Tatiana's cigarette it almost feels as if Owen is there on this mission with him.

And after Curt kills Owen again, he can't look at his face. He can't stand the see the bullet between his eyes. He reaches into Owen's inner right jacket pocket and fishes out a pack of cigarettes- because of course even nearly dying wouldn't have convinced him to quit. He pulls Owen's lighter out of what used to be Owen's leather jacket (before Curt claimed it and Owen sighed and said it looked better on him anyways) and he lights a cigarette, and the full force of four years of grief burns his lungs until he is gasping and sobbing and rubbing his thumb over a patch of exposed skin near Owen's ankle until Curt can feel that his body is finally cold.

Shit. I guess I am having one of those nights. Sorry, anon. Hopefully that answered your question?

[slaymitchabernathy]

Diva

Coriolanus takes one last glance in the mirror before exiting the closet. He looks perfect.

He really shouldn't worry too much about his appearance, not tonight when it's supposed to be a somewhat casual dinner but he can't help but feel the need to always show up and show off.

He is, after all, a Snow.

Tonight marks the beginning of his Presidential campaign and to celebrate his bright and glorious future, he's invited several friends over to his penthouse. Most of his friends have coupled up at this point in their lives, going nowhere without their significant others.

Not that he can blame them. He does the same thing himself.

He strides into the hallway and towards the dining room where he finds Soarynn setting the plates. All the napkins have been perfectly folded, all the correct utensils put in place and she's gone with the plates that have roses painted onto them.

If she hadn’t chosen to go into fashion, she certainly could be an event planner.

He scans the dining room table, pleased with the setup until he notices the centerpiece is bigger than usual, and it’s…moving.

Petunia.

“Darling,” he says, approaching the table where Petunia has made herself right at home, “why is Petunia still out?”

Petunia hisses at him as if on instinct and Soarynn frowns and scoops her up, cradling her as if the cat is a small child. Coriolanus notices how smug the feline looks, “Why wouldn’t she be out? Everyone loves her,” Soarynn replies. Unfortunately, she’s right. Most of their friends and acquaintances are smitten with Petunia who constantly demands attention whenever people come over.

But tonight is about him.

Coriolanus knows he has to be firm with his decision, and as the head of their small household, he ought to be respected as well. “Go put her in our bedroom, she’ll have much more fun in there than out here begging for our attention.”

Soarynn frowns and looks down at her cat who’s already looking up at her, waiting for her to protest her luxurious imprisonment. “Are you sure?” She asks softly, rubbing Petunia’s head, “Suppose she gets lonely?”

Coriolanus nearly rolls his eyes at that suggestion which in his opinion, is a weak argument. “Suppose she scratches someone’s eyes out, then what will we do?” He counters before taking the last few steps to reach the love of his life, “I’m not asking darling, she needs to be put away until the night is over.” He rests a hand on her waist and Soarynn sighs, which means he won.

“Alright. Let’s go get you settled before the guests arrive Petunia,” Soarynn says to the cat who is staring at Coriolanus like he’s the bane of her existence. Coriolanus gives her a smirk before heading into the kitchen to make sure everything’s been prepared properly.

Normally, he isn’t too fond of having servants in the house, too much risk of them stealing something. But the cook that Soarynn hired a few months ago for things like this has proven to be fantastic at her job. “Good evening Mr. Snow,” she nods before getting back to the food. Coriolanus nods in return and is more than pleased with the spread she’s prepared.

“The guests will be arriving shortly,” he tells her before walking into the living room. He and Soarynn spent a good part of the afternoon making sure that everything was spotless. Soarynn joins him a moment later with a flustered look on her face and Coriolanus can only guess why. It probably has something to do with the constant yowling he can hear from down the hall.

“I take it she didn’t appreciate being relocated to the bedroom,” he muses and Soarynn shakes her head, “The poor darling didn’t want to let me go.”

Petunia, for the most part, is a loving house cat who adores Soarynn with all her heart. Coriolanus always thought that no one on earth could love Soarynn the way he did. Then Petunia came along. He truly has no one to blame but himself considering he was the one who made the decision to bring her into their home.

The pet-shop owner had been nothing but enthusiastic about his purchase. “They sleep all day,” the man had said. What he should have said was: “They knock down vases and try to eat your socks, oh, and they’ll hide under furniture and bat at your ankles!”

Coriolanus sometimes wondered if he had been scammed.

Either way, Petunia was here to stay. And after a bit of research, Coriolanus learned that if taken care of properly, cats can live into their twenties.

Had he known that a cat would’ve been such a long-term commitment, he would’ve bought Soarynn a goldfish.

“She’ll be fine,” he decides as the doorbell rings, announcing their first guest. Soarynn nods and gives him a small smile, “It’s only for a few hours,” she agrees.

꧁ ꧂

“You couldn’t pay me to care about the Districts,” Festus slurs. He’s had four too many drinks but he’s far too inebriated to stop now.

Coriolanus smiles and leans back in his chair, "Well it's a good thing you're not the one running for President." This draws laughs from all his friends who have gathered in his study. After a wonderful dinner, the men and women diverged. The women went to the living room and the men to his study where they could get into deeper conversations without offending or boring the opposite sex.

Festus seems quite comfortable in one of the plush armchairs and his drunken gaze settles on a framed photograph sitting on one of the bookshelves. It's of Soarynn who's dressed in a baby blue dress, holding Petunia to her chest while standing on the rooftop near the roses. Coriolanus remembers taking that photo, Soarynn had wanted Petunia to see the roses and the moment had been too precious to not photograph it.

Petunia looks so small in the photo, not as mean as she is now in his opinion.

"When're you going to ask her to marry you?" Festus asks and Coriolanus immediately glances at the doorway to ensure that none of the ladies heard Festus and his drunken question. All of Soarynn's friends are lovely, but, they have a habit of spreading rumors that half of the time aren't true. He doesn't need one of them to overhear this.

Coriolanus clears his throat and tugs at his shirt collar, "Once I become President." Felix smirks and glances around the study that is filled with expensive furniture, liquor, and lots of photographs of the woman Coriolanus loves so dearly. "I'd say they're practically married already," he teases.

Coriolanus rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his bourbon, he and Soarynn have been together for so long that it certainly does feel like they're already married sometimes. But marriage is an entirely different commitment. He needs to focus on becoming President first, then he can marry the girl of his dreams.

Before Festus can ask another drunk question, Coriolanus hears quite the commotion coming from outside, lots of gasping. He furrows his brows and begins to wonder if perhaps there's a bug or something. But if there was, Soarynn would've been running for the hills already.

He remembers the one time when she had gone to take a shower, only to come running into the living room covered in bubbles crying and screaming about a bug being in the shower with her. Coriolanus had teased her about it for weeks.

He exchanges a look with Felix before pushing himself up from his chair and venturing outside and down the hall to find out what's going on. He can hear all the ladies giggling and whispering and once he turns the corner he can see all of them looking down at something on the floor.

"Is everything alright?" He asks, some worry coloring his voice.

Soarynn can't even open her mouth to answer before he hears a meow.

Petunia.

Soarynn gives him a somewhat guilty-looking smile before she bends down and scoops up the cat who looks more than pleased with herself. That diva. Coriolanus presses his lips into a thin line, the cat was not supposed to be let out tonight.

But he can't even get a word in before Clemensia is scoffing at his expression, "Oh, please Coryo, we all love Petunia and wanted to see her. You're just upset because she steals Soarynn away from you."

Coriolanus lets out a small gasp at the accusation that is very true and shakes his head, "I simply think it's terribly rude to have an animal roaming around while we eat dinner and have company over," he explains although he only gets eye rolls in return.

Petunia who needs all attention on her at all times swipes her paw in Clemensia's direction and is immediately rewarded with kisses and scratches from all the women who fawn over her like she's a child.

Well, since there's no immediate threat Coriolanus sees no need to waste any more time on the cat. He shoots the feline one last look before turning on his heel and walking back to his study.

That cat, is going to be the death of him.

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus blows all the air out of his lungs as he settles into the bathtub. There's nothing quite like a relaxing bath after a night with friends. He closes his eyes and rests his head back, tonight's events replaying in his mind. He doesn't get to think much because he can't shake the feeling that he's being watched.

Coriolanus sits up in the tub and glances around the room, no one is in the bathroom with him.

He hears a meow.

He looks directly below him to find Petunia sitting next to the tub, her ears perked up and her tail swishing in the air. She's practically stalking him. "Go away," he tells her, pointing at the bathroom doors that are slightly ajar. She blinks and does nothing. "Out Petunia," he says again, this time with more authority in his voice.

Petunia rolls onto her back, asking for belly rubs.

Coriolanus groans and rubs a hand over his face, all he wants to do is relax and go to bed. Why must she torture him? He must've known Petunia in a past life and done something horrible to her because that is the only way he can make sense of their constant agitation towards each other.

"Soarynn!" He calls, keeping an eye on the cat who has all four paws in the air, still waiting to be pet. "Soarynn darling, I need help, I'm in terrible danger." Soarynn is pushing open the doors within seconds, her eyes wide as she searches for the danger. Once she sees Petunia all her worries melt away and she relaxes, "Oh, Petunia, you need to leave Coryo alone." Coriolanus nods, "For the rest of my life in fact," he adds on which earns him a glare from Soarynn who crouches down and opens up her arms, "Come here darling."

It's somewhat sweet how Petunia rolls to her feet and runs into Soarynn's arms, both of them absolutely infatuated with each other. "She's set on terrorizing me," he tells Soarynn who rolls her eyes, "I wouldn't be surprised if she ate through another pair of my socks."

There was nothing quite like your big toe going right through your sock as you got ready for the day. Coriolanus immediately found the culprit who wore the most innocent look on her face. But like always, Soarynn came to her rescue.

"I think you're being a little bit dramatic," Soarynn says, "she just wants to be around you Coryo, that's all." He's not too convinced but he nods because it'll get Soarynn to leave and take the cat with her.

Once she does he relaxes, but not too much, Petunia might make a second attempt at ruining his bath.

꧁ ꧂

It's damn near ironic how Petunia looks so peaceful curled up at the foot of their bed.

Coriolanus watches her small body take little breaths in and out, today must have been exhausting for her, annoying him and inconveniencing him. She was on a roll today.

Soarynn slips into bed next to him and pulls him away from thinking about the cat. The second her soft hands cup his face he relaxes and feels as if nothing else in the world matters but her. "I do hope I didn't upset you tonight," she says softly and Coriolanus shakes his head, gently grabbing her wrists, "You couldn't. Couldn't upset me if you tried darling." Although Petunia certainly could.

Soarynn looks down at the small cat and smiles, "I know you two don't always see eye to eye, but she loves you Coryo, I've seen it before. She adores you and simply wants to spend more time with you." Coriolanus highly doubts that but he smiles and presses a kiss to Soarynn's cheek, "I believe you."

It doesn't take much longer for Soarynn to drift off in his arms, safe and sound. Coriolanus can feel himself finally giving into sleep as well and turns off the bedside lamp next to him before finally closing his eyes.

A moment later, he feels a small weight sink into his pillow above his head. Coriolanus opens his eyes and cranes his neck to see Petunia curled up above him, already asleep. He looks back down at Soarynn who is also curled up and he smiles, perhaps he ought to count himself lucky to have these two ladies in his life.

Even if one is an absolute diva.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[elmhat]

My own list of overly-detailed c!stagedduo headcanons because dr3's list inspired me:

c!Punz keeps up with the revival experiments while c!Dream is in prison. Why not? Dream is already past schedule, and Vikk and Lazar are still lying around somewhere, perfectly usable. It's weird doing it alone. Punz can't help but feel like he's doing something wrong, lacking direction, lacking leadership, but then he decides that's stupid—he's just as invested in this work as Dream is, if not more. It's almost like an addiction he was craving and had to return to. It's fine. Dream will surely be happy with his efforts anyway.

c!Punz doesn't need to be told about the torture. It's staring him in the face. Dream always covers himself up, but Punz still sees the evidence. But Dream keeps acting like everything is normal, so Punz kind of just assumes it is. It doesn't really affect the present, does it? Neither of them have the right words to address it anyway. Life continues and it's normal and it's fine, but a part of Punz still resents Dream for letting this go so wrong.

c!Dream kind of assumes that the scrapped lore is c!Punz's betrayal. It's the only explanation that makes sense—and it wouldn't be the first miscalculation he's made. After the incident, he hides himself away, and Punz senses that something is weird(er than usual), so they probably meet sometime shortly after and it's confrontational and emotional. And Dream knows that he should be smarter in how he goes about this, but he's still raw from everything that's happened and he gets angry and defensive and scared and the whole thing comes out, all of it. This is also probably when Punz finds out about Quackity's involvement in everything; he would've assumed it was just Sam. It's not long after that Punz seeks out Purpled.

I hard agree on dr3's point that c!Punz seeks out c!Purpled behind c!Dream's back. I struggle to see a reality where revealing Punz as an ally in this situation is something that Dream would do, and the way that Punz delivers his pitch almost sounds emotional to the point of impulsive. Also, the whole Purpled-Quackity situation took place while Dream was still in prison, so Dream wouldn't have seen Purpled anywhere near Las Nevadas while he was scouting it out for the scrapped lore (unless he somehow saw Purpled taking Slime, which seems unlikely). Punz would naturally know more about Purpled at this point than Dream, which yeah, I'm sure he shares with him later, but with how weird these two are with information, I wouldn't be surprised if he's kept it to himself for now.

c!Vikk and c!Lazar aren't really used again after the prison. Maybe they try briefly, but it doesn't last. Dream is the one who insists that they stop. Vikk and Lazar are too far gone, it's better to get firsthand results anyway. (And it's nothing to do with cruelty, Dream doesn't care about cruelty, but it just might have something to do with vulnerability.)

c!Dream doesn't show c!Punz his face.

[taki-yaki]

Prompt: Tav that's somehow acquainted with Drizzt. I don't know where his situation fits in the BG3 timeline, so I don't know if Tav being Drizzt's daughter's friend or classmate would make sense. Maybe a neighbor, or the apprentice of one of his party members? I honestly just want to see Astarion fangirl over meeting someone who has close ties to Drizzt Do'Urden.

Briennelle Zaharina (Drizzt’s daughter) would be around the age of 4 during the events of Baldurs gate 3. But an apprentice adventurer who teamed with Drizzt would work.

Astarion x Drizzt Apprentice Tav

As an Elf, you were aware of how long your kind lived for, even outliving many other races in kind. Instead of being stuck inside the walls of Evereska, you longed to venture beyond them. Travelling from town to city, helping with any problems that plague the area. Until you arrive at Baldur’s Gate meeting the famous Drizzt the drow, offering to become his apprentice just for the time he is within the city on his quest. 

Although he was hesitant at first to accept, he agreed after seeing your innate magic abilities in combat. 

Despite your time as his temporary pupil only being short through the eyes of normal elves, the experience to you felt as if it was a main part of your long life.

After your encounter with the famous drow, you would continue your travels across the sword's coast, always returning to the gate to reminisce upon the skills that your mentor taught you. However, during one of these trips to the city, you were abducted by the mind flayers, soon having a tadpole forced inside your head.

During one of these first few nights with your new companions, Wyll was exchanging stories around the campfire of his travels as the blade of Avernus, he would bid you to tell tales of your travels throughout the sword coast, with nearly everyone's eyes on you, except for a pale elf who was pretending to read a book to act disinterested, despite his ears seemingly twitching whenever someone blabbed about others.

As you told your tale of your ventures in Baldur’s Gate, you offhandedly mentioned how you met the notorious drow when you noticed Astarion fully snapping his attention towards you, seemly engrossed for a moment of the comment you made before swaying his eyes towards the book once again.

The next few nights would consist of you telling a story or two about Drizzt casually to Karlach or Wyll with Astarion occasionally dismissing some of your tales seeing them as nothing but farfetched stories at first, “Yes darling, and I’m a princess of house Nightstar and married to a tarrasque named Johnathan, anything else you have to say?”.

However as the tales would start to sound more believable, he would start to inquire into them, asking questions such as what was Drizzt’s eye colour and other minutiae details, which would quickly devolve into an argument at camp about whether the drow’s eye colour was a lavender hue or aquamarine or other minor details.

During another late-night argument once again about Drizzt, Karlach spoke aloud “Fangs if I didn’t know any better I’d say that you’re a fan of Drizzt”, his mouth quickly shut upon hearing Karlachs words, “As if I would fawn over such a thing, dear that is for children, I’m only correcting your ‘mistakes is all”, before he attempted to smoothly retreat towards his tent for the night.

The next night, the arguments between you seemed to have ceased, with you both only acknowledging each other through silent glances across the camp. It isn’t until you confront him, once everyone else has gone to sleep for the night, that he attempts to withdraw to his tent once again, apologising for arguing over such trivial things, but it isn’t until he interrupts you with a soft sigh before stating 

“I- I never said I disliked your fables, my dear”

“When I was trapped under Cazadors thumb, I would daydream of the drow one day coming to save me from his hell, a revolution of sorts against him.” turning to avoid your line of sight, uttering in a hushed whisper “But that never happened”.

“You know, I’m not your exact ‘Drizzt’ type, but I promise, I’ll kill your vile master, I’m certain Drizzt wouldn’t have stood for such a thing as do I.”

As he looks down upon you, in silence, he lets out a little chuckle, before offering an outstretched hand towards you.

“You know, It would be nice not to have to rely on you as my great protector, but... well, I do appreciate the thought.”

Raising your head to meet him face to face, reaching out to clasp his hand softly. 

Throughout the rest of that night, the two of you spend the rest of the night in long discussions about your fondness for the legendary drow.

It isn’t until you arrive at the city that the two of you discuss Drizzt's latest adventures that were published within the new books. Reading the book together, actively discussing each tale that was told and just for a moment, true peace was found between you both, despite all the horrors you’ve been through with the absolute.

[wickjump]

hey.

would you like to hear an xtale siblings thought?

rhetorical question.

(abuse mention bc its the fucking xtale siblings)

so. according to jakei (via cornmayors twitter), xpapyrus is "the kind of person who would harvest his own food", which is pretty cute i think. ik corn has a comic abt xasriel being into gardening, and i think theres some canon stuff that might support that, too? so yeah neat, papyrus and asriel/flowey friendship prevails!! they have a common interest/hobby, thats pretty cute, yknow?

but like. i was thinking, right? what would make xpap want to garden? not that he necessarily needs a reason, but..

and i mean the (possible) explanation is pretty damn clear. its been shown before that xgaster doesnt care abt his kids and doesnt seem to provide for them most of the time. im guessing they went hungry a lot as kids.

and like xpap has been shown to be more outspoken, defying orders and/or talking back on multiple occasions (sometimes making cross step in to "correct" him to avoid or at least soften xgasters wrath), so i think if he was hungry hed just say it, and depending on his mood xgaster would either tell him thats not his problem or begrudgingly give them something (or make xalphys go buy food or cook or whatever)

but cross? cross wouldnt say a fucking word. he could be dying of starvation and hed say hes just fine to avoid the potential punishment of "inconveniencing" xgaster

so like. im thinking. what if xpap started growing his own food because he didnt want to be so dependent on someone who couldnt be assed to provide for them? because he was tired of going hungry and being punished for trying to get the only person who could do something abt that to actually... do something? because he was tired of seeing his brother suffer in silence because he was too scared to say anything?

i can see him finding some like.. tomato seeds or something. maybe just planting a slice from food xgaster finally brought them in the hope that it grows into a plant eventually. cross would definitely help him care for the plants. maybe xalphys would occasionally bring him books about gardening or new seeds or just tell him general knowledge so he could more successfully grow things.

idk like. we see a lot of cross caring for xpap (bc of course he would, hes his older brother), but xpap explicitly caring for and providing for cross in return makes me bash my head into the wall /pos like ik thats normal. to yknow. care for and provide for your family. but god damn.

they make me violently ill.

(this was very xpap centric bc im very normal abt him (lie) hope youre ok w that)

vomits glitter everywhere youre soright..!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! also dont worry ily xpapyrus ilysm..... xpapyrus u deserved better... i love any characters from any au theyre all so cool....

UGHHHHHHHHHH i love it when younger siblings take care of the older ones,,, ugh.. .., i mean xalphys is the youngest of the three, meaning papyrus would technically be the middle sibling but yk what. that makes it better actully imo. middle sibling takes ccare of the other two.

ANYWAY yes. xpap is the most outspoken, as you said, out of them all about xgaster's mistreatment. while cross is silent and alphys is indifferent (outwardly) towards xgaster, xpapyrus is the one with the strongest sense of justice. cross is anxious, xalphys pretty much had her will to fight stripped away from her, but xpapyrus still has that spark in him, and that spark remains despite everything. he'd tell xgaster that he's hungry, because he's hungry, dammit, and if xgaster doesn't feed him, he'll take matters into his own hands. i can imagine xgaster picking a burger up for him after hours of nagging, and xpapyrus plants the whole tomato slice in a bunch of dirt in a tupperware bowl for later.

xpapyrus would defend those plants with his life if he had to because to him, as a child, i think they'd be synonymous with 'he doesn't have complete power over us. look, this is something i did on my own, something he doesn't control'. it would be the first bit of independence he's ever really had. xasriel probably helped as well because he thought it was just a fun hobby of xpapyrus' and not a means to not starve. this also probably helped cement xpapyrus and cross' loyalty to the dreemurr family,,

im ill about them too UGH.... the xtale siblings (+ chara/frisk) are my favorites ever and i just...man!!! the way xgaster abused them all in so many different ways is SO overlooked in this fandom and its my number one duty to make sure eveyrone knows how terrible xgaster is,,.!!! hes a child beater!!!!!!! cross, xpapyrus, xchara, xfrisk, and probably xalphys were beaten children!!!!!!

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

××《☆》××

Years have gone by. It's now 1971. You've peaked in your career. You've become well known. But what happens when an all too familiar face returns, now more drawn to you?

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: steamy ASFF???, angst, swearing, alcohol consumption, shlut shaming (fuck that old man), implied smut in the end (i didn't write smut yall im nervous)

===

===

Chapter nine: You belong to me

===

You and Joseph called consistently. Phone bills got higher, but both of you could care less. Both of you sent letters, pictures, and postcards like you promised.

Joseph often sent you pictures of him and George. He sent you postcards from Italy, Germany, and some cities in France.

You often send pictures of yourself, Callum, and photoshoots. You sent him postcards from Milan, New York, Copenhagen, and more. Mostly fashion capitals in the world.

Every letter you'd send each other would contain your days, food you tried, people you met, places you've been. But in the end of each one, there'd be the same sentence.

"I love you. See you soon."

It always said that.

Years pass, the calls get less consistent, the letters talking about your days now talk about your weeks, then they start talking about your months.

You talk about college now, parties you've been invited to, alcohol you tried.

Less and less postcards. Only three to five would come in a year now, the only thing written in them is the place they've been to.

Seven years have passed. It's 1971 now. You're 23 years old. The phone ringings have stopped. The letter boxes are empty.

Joseph was now merely a memory. Something you've locked inside you. He's beginning to collect dust.

You write in your notebook about your day. You sit on your matress, only an underwear on and some sheer shirt. Your hair is up in a messy clip, bangs blown on your forehead.

Safe to say you're famous. You've been in countless magazines, influencing famous celebrities. For example, Jane Birkin with your full bangs. You actually have her number. It's in the room... somewhere.

Life in Paris has been... alright, you could say. Sure, it smells like piss, and sure, it's filled with rude people, but you grew up here, so might as well accept it.

Callum's been a big help. He's a famous photographer and car enthusiast now. He's done almost all of your photoshoots. There were some rumours that developed about you two being an item, but you quickly shut that down.

A knock is heard on your flat's front door. Callum walks in, a paper bag in hand, and a lit cigarette between his lips.

"Pretty girl," a nickname he never seemed to want to let go, "your wine is here."

You get up from your place, strutting down some steps and kissing Callum's cheek in greeting. You head to the bag placed on the kitchen counter.

"Fuck yes. Thank you, Callum. You're an angel." I place them in a gift bag, saving them for a future event.

In three days' time, a gala was to happen. It would be filled top to bottom with riches, designer clothes and items, jewels, and anything else that screams luxury. And what you're most excited about is the fact that it's a masquerade.

You, for one, were invited to this gala. The people who were invited are sort of a VIP. Only close friends of the host would be there, and knowing the host, they were luxurious as well.

Your dress was ready. Your gift was ready. Everything was ready. Even your plus one, who is very obviously Callum, was ready. Everything would be perfect.

But you were nervous. Something deep inside your gut was telling you something would happen, and you couldn't tell whether it was a bad sign or a good one. You were hoping for the latter.

It crawled through your skin. You weren't one to get nervous, especially after all the exposure to the media in the past couple of years. So this wasn't exactly normal.

Your heart was exhilarated. Your mind was all over the place. What if you didn't look your best? This was a question you haven't asked yourself in a long while. You've been so self-assured, but what changed it now? That gut feeling sucked.

You take your mind off it. You'd rather talk about your plans for that evening.

The dress you, Callum, and your stylist picked was an archive of Audrey Hepburn's 1956 film Funny Face. It was fluffy around the bottom, the end cutting off in the middle of your calf. It was off shoulder, drop waist, coloured white with accents of pink and blue for the flowers imprinted.

Some things to add on were long white silk gloves, your mask that covered anything but your eyes, along with a pair of white kitten heels, pearl earrings, and hair pieces. It reminded you of when you were young. You, in high school with your puffy skirts, pearl jewellery, and kitten heels.

There was something bugging you. Something you're missing. It was a nostalgic memory. It's something you were trying to figure out, but before you could, Callum's arm wraps around your shoulders.

"You alright, pretty girl?" He asked, worry etched in his tone.

You simply smile at him. "Yup. All good."

××《☆》××

You were riding around Paris in your vespa, the wind blowing through your hair and messing it up. It was an hour before midnight, the air colder, and the streets lit up with lights.

You wanted some air. Something about what happened earlier made your mind jumble over what it could've been. You needed to stop it from running around. It would've kept you up all night.

Your coat was on, keeping you warm. You had borrowed it from Callum, using the excuse of the fact that it was bigger, meaning it would keep you from the cold. Which was true.

He barely even used it anyway. It didn't even smell like him. Callum smelt like new cars, cigarettes, and hair gel. This coat wasn't too far, but it wasn't that close. It smelt like cigarettes, yes, but also expensive cologne. Callum doesn't wear that type of cologne.

It got your mind running again. You roll your eyes to yourself. You thought this would help. You speed your Vespa up, making it around l'Arc de Triomphe, turning to a road and going straight ahead.

The wind blew harsher, your nose getting irritated from the cold. You guess Callum's coat wasn't enough. You make some turns again till you get to Pont d'léna, now making you ride face to face with the sparkling Eiffel Tower. You got here in time for it.

Your awe for the tower never really faded even after seeing it almost every day for the past several years. Many people wish to see it for the first time again, but you, it will always feel like the first time.

You turn your head back to the road when you go right, on your way back to your flat. Your neck hurts a bit from craning it to the tower, but most of the time, it's worth it.

Again, you feel nostalgic. There's a tall figure standing on the side of the road looking up at the tower. His hair was messy, so as yours, and he was smoking a cigarette. He had something wrapped around his head. You couldn't quite focus on what he looked like exactly from the speed you were going.

You turn your head to the road again. What was that? It was probably a man you've seen around the streets, or somebody you worked with. You shrug it off and continue your ride home.

××《☆》××

It was the morning of the gala. It would start somewhere around six in the evening for dinner. You woke up early for the day.

You're outside a café with Callum, sipping on piping hot coffee and eating your pastries. Every once in a while, a flash is seen in the corner of your eye. Fans or paparazzi, you pay it no mind.

"Is there anything else we need to do or get before we prep for the gala?" You say, putting your cup down gently onto its plate.

"Nope. You seem a lot more nervous than usual. Is there something you wanna change up?" Callum asks, taking a puff out of his cigarette. You shake your head.

"Yeah, I don't know. I've been feeling it since yesterday. There's just... I think something's gonna happen. Something big." You shrug, crossing your arms and leaning on the table. Callum nods, leaning forward too, mirroring you.

"Ah, well, is it good or bad?" He questions, butting of his cigarette. You think for a while, reminiscing on the feeling.

"Actually, it might be good. That's why I'm nervous, you know? I don't want anything to get messed up. Because if something bad were to happen, well..." I shrug, hissing. Callum chuckles.

"Well, alright. We'll double-check everything so it goes smoothly for you, pretty girl." He pats your arm, reassuring you. You grab a hold of his hand, squeezing it and saying "Thank you."

It was afternoon now. You began to prepare for the gala. Your team came in a few minutes ago, and they begin working on you. You're sitting in your chair with your makeup artist fixing you up when the phone rings.

"Callum, can you get that, please?" I shout towards him. He comes out of the kitchen and into the living room we were in. He picks the phone up. You had a clear vision of everything. He leans against the wall, greeting the caller.

Then, his face shifts. It morphs into something you can't read, but Callum seems to hold in a smile. When he notices you looking at him, he turns his back towards you. Instead of speaking in a normal volume, he began to whisper.

What the fuck was that? Who could the caller be? It's probably one of his hookups, for sure. You let it slide. You'll ask about it after.

When Callum hangs up, you immediately call after him.

"Callum, who was it?" Callum turns around, hands in his back pockets and lips pursed. He does this when he's trying to hide something. You raise your brows.

"Just... someone special." He flashes a quick smile and then runs out of the room. Oh. You were right.

"Someone special" was a code name for one of the boys he fell in love with during your time here in Paris. You both were still in college. He was from the architecture department. Things happened, and things fell apart.

But then, you weren't so sure. Every time someone special called our place after their relationship, Callum was always sad after. Maybe something new happened?

When the clock hit five, everyone was on their way down stairs. You were fully prepped now, in your makeup, and dress with your jewellery and heels. Your mask was on, and you put on a large white fur coat.

Upon exiting your apartment complex, bunches of paparazzi blocked by barricades took pictures of you with their bright flashes. Callum and your team huddled around you, trying to get you safely in the car.

You get in your vehicle, and Callum had made an arrangement that he was to drive it. Nostalgia has filled your senses these past few days. You wonder what would come next.

When you arrived at the venue, wlaking through high ceiling halls and large oak doors, the room was filled with masked people, all dressed in various colours. They stood, laughed, and talked, all while drinking their preferred drinks.

It was a bit chilly in here, and you started to regret leaving your coat in your car. You didn't want to ask Callum to go with you to get it, seeing him already in conversation with the guests. You decide to go to the bar area instead.

You get your drink, fiddling with your hands as you wait. The ballroom was elegant, so much more brilliant than you thought it could be. Though, it felt rather lonely. You shake off the feeling once you receive your poison of the night.

Then, an announcement was heard. Everyone was to grab a partner to accompany them to dance. You promised Callum to enjoy the night, and you guess a dance could fulfil that.

You opted to a man who was sitting in the same bar you were in. He brought you a sense of familiarity for some unknown reason. He was slouched in his seat, ash brown hair a bit messy. He was turning his glass in circles.

"Hello." You greeted. When he turned to you, your eyes widened in wonder. He only had one eye hole, the rest of his face covered like yours. He blinks, and you could slightly hear him breathing.

"Hi." He says simply. You scan him, and there's a feeling in you that you definitely knew who this was, you just couldn't pinpoint it.

"I know I'm not in the position as a woman in this economy," you roll your eyes, "but, would you like to dance with me?"

His back straightens, and you think you've made him uncomfortable.

"Oh. I'm so sorry for even think-"

"Yes." He cuts in. He offers you a gloved hand as he stands from his barstool. You're surprised. He's taller than you imagined.

You take a hold of his hand. It's warm. Familiarly warm. He leads you into the middle of the ballroom, other guests already forming into formation. He gently takes your risks into his hold, moving up to his chest. Again, it's so familiar.

He drifts his hands to your sides and clutches it a bit. You feel as though you knew these hands. Like you've memorised the lines on the palm, the way the fingertips swirl, or how the muscles twitch and the joints move.

The orchestra starts to play, and you start to move. There's a flow you follow, and it feels so easy. You hadn't even known there was choreography, but the man you were with did. And he showed you through it.

You couldn't stop looking. Even if your neck started to hurt from looking up, even if you twirled, even if your eyes started to dry. You couldn't stop. And you didn't want to.

His eyes stayed on you all throughout the dance. The way he held you, the way he felt. He was so warm even if his body was covered in multiple layers of fabric. You could feel it. Like you've sunk into his skin.

When the dance ended, and he asked you to go with him, you agreed. You didn't know what he looked like. You only feel like you knew him, but you weren't sure. But even with that running through your head, you agreed.

The outside was cold but warmer than inside. You still shivered as you did before. Just then, a coat is wrapped around your shaking shoulders. You look up at the masked man. He took his coat off, now only dressed with a white button-up and a vest matching his pants. His already messy hair messes up even more now. It's in perfect condition to run your hands through.

You both make your way to the large railing of the balcony, taking a seat on it. It viewed the beautiful Eiffel Tower, its lights sparkling in the night. The wind blows once again. It's peaceful.

You turn your head to the man, and you almost fell over the rail. Sitting in front of you, his face finally unmasked, was Joseph Descamps. Out of all people, you didn't expect your first love to be sat in front of you. Seven years have passed, and he's still beautiful.

Your eyes began to sting as you lifted your hands to your face, discarding your own mask. He smiles, his pretty pink lips curving upward. He looks down, fiddling with the inseams of his pants. Again, it's familiar.

"Hi, Y/N." He whispers gently, taking a hold of your shaking hand. He takes your gloves off, putting them aside. He connects the tips of his fingers to yours, then encapsulates it in his warmth.

You can't speak. You can't breathe. You can't stop your heart from beating the way it was now.

"Seven years, and I finally see you again." He shows his teeth in his smile, and again, you can't stop looking.

"Still not talking?" He asks with a teasing tone, tilting his head.

"Did you know?" You asked, your voice so low you were surprised he even heard. Of course he did. He payed the closest attention to you.

"Know what?" He raises his eyebrows, anticipating your next words.

"That it was me?" He chuckles and shakes his head.

"Of course I did. I mean, I recognised you with one eye. I think I'd recognise you blind." He moves closer, bringing your hand up and placing a kiss on your knuckles.

You laugh. You lift your free hand up and cup his cheek. He leans into it, head laying heavy on your palm. He looks up at you, his eyelids heavy. Fuck.

He closes his eyes, taking his other hand to clasp at your wrist. He kisses your palm, leaving some wet patches from his open mouth. He trails his kisses up to your pulse, and you can't help but grab on his hair.

"Y/N, I've been looking-" Callum says as he runs towards the entrance of the balcony, stopping in his place at the sight of you.

"Oh, you finally met." Finally? You furrow your eyebrows, trying to figure out what he meant. Joseph pulls away from your hands, keeping his eyes on Callum. You turn my head back to the man in front of me, raising an eyebrow.

"What does he mean finally?" You ask Joseph. Callum walks towards us slowly, hands clasped behind his back.

"Uh..." Joseph looks to Callum. Callum raises his hands up. Joseph looks back to you, licking his lips before answering. "I planned it... sorry?"

"Planned it? Sorry? Joseph, why are you saying sorry? This is the best thing ever." You exclaim, and the two men just look at eachother.

"Not to ruin whatever the fuck you guys were doing just then, but the host wants some pictures, so..." He gestures to the door. You purse your lips in disappointment but nod. You get up and straighten your skirt, wiping off any wrinkles.

"I better go." You take your gloves and mask from where you were seated. "Can I see you after the gala?"

Joseph nods. "I was already planning on it." After prepping fully, you just stand there. You then lift your hand. "Bye."

Why was that so awkward? You'll save your self-beating bit later. Before you could even walk a step, Joseph takes your wrist again. You turn around to be met with a kiss on the corner of your lips.

"You look as gorgeous as the day you left." He whispers and presses another kiss on your cheek. They're beet red, you can feel it. He walks away, waving a bye to Callum, too. Callum slowly turns his head to you, then ushers you to go with him.

"What was that?" There's a cheeky smile on his face, and you try to hide your growing one.

"I don't even know."

××《☆》××

He was... clingy. The host, you meant. He was tall and built, but he was honestly so annoying. He kept bragging about his riches and talking about himself. The only time he shut up was when he took a sip of his whiskey.

You look around subtly, trying to keep yourself from rolling your eyes in front of the man, even though he could barely see them from your mask. Speaking of, he didn't wear one. This might've just been a party to make him somewhat the centre of attention for standing out.

"Dance with me, darling." You grimace. You're very glad for these masks. That nickname will be the death of you. And in a bad way.

"I don't feel like dancing. My feet are starting to hurt." I shrug, pointing to my ankles. You thought you were so smart, but he was just so insistent.

"Well, why don't we go upstairs? My office is free, and, you know," He comes disgustingly closer. You can smell his bad breath from his rotting yellow teeth. "I can help you with the aching."

Before you could retort, an arm wraps around your waist, keeping you still. You would've pushed away if you hadn't recognised his touch or his scent.

"Excuse me, sir. I must bring Ms. Pardine home immediately. She is busy tomorrow. And most definitely busy tonight." He turns his head towards you. He felt so tense. Like he was keeping something within him. A feeling so strong.

The man huffs like a child. "And who are you supposed to be?" He crosses his arms. He looks so immature, even with that saggy and wrinkley face.

"A close... friend." Joseph's hand slid down to my hips, clutching it slightly. He tugs you in closer, making you lose balance and place a hand on his chest. You refuse to look his way, or even anyones.

The other man scowls, disgust now visible in his face. "What a slut." He mumbles, finally leaving you alone. Joseph's grip on your hips tightens, and it starts to hurt you a bit.

"Joseph." You say, trying to gently push his hand away. He immediately lets go, turning to you worriedly.

"Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." He rubs your hip to relax it, but you don't relax one bit. Your heart hammers in your chest, and there's a feeling deep in your stomach.

"It's alright. Just take me home." I caress his neck before grabbing his hand, moving through the crowds of people. You try to look for Callum, but when you find him, he's talking, or quite literally eye fucking some guy he was conversating with. He can get home, you guess.

Joseph takes you home in his car. This felt weird. Not badly, just that you've never been driven by him. It felt comforting. You could get used to this.

You tell him the directions to your place, and when you make it, you pause.

"Come in?" You turn your head. Your masks were already long gone, and all you could see was his beautiful face again.

"Are you sure?" He asks, voice shaking. You can't believe he's still nervous with you, especially with that stunt he pulled with your wrist on a public balcony. You'll tease him about it soon.

"With you? Always." So then you went up to your room, and as soon as you did, his hands were on you again. He backs you up until your back hits the wall behind you. You're both breathing so heavy it's the only thing you could hear in the entire flat.

"I missed you. And I need you. So fucking much." He whispers, one hand cupping your face and the other roaming your waist. Your legs go wobbly, so you take your heels off, making you shorter than you already were standing in front of him.

"Fuck." You mumble. "Kiss me already."

He smashes his lips against yours feverishly, and you could taste everything he had that night. Wine, whiskey, cigarettes, and even strawberries. His tongue swipes your lips as he lets out a groan.

He pulls you closer, kneeling a bit to grab your thighs, then carrying you with ease, all while he loses his breath from kissing you. He lets go of your face to let his hands roam the area, not wanting to accidentally hit your wall.

"Bedroom?" He asks, parting for only a millisecond before placing his pretty pink lips on yours again. You have to fight the urge not to drown in him.

"To the left." He nods, continuing to kiss you as he reverts his way to the left side of your flats. You bump a few things on the way, like some side tables and magazines.

You finally make it to the bedroom, and he lies down gently onto your bed. He slows his lips, savouring the way you tasted. It makes you squirm in anticipation, and you feel a smirk on his lips as he continues. He parts away, a small string of saliva accentuating it. He pants before he speaks.

"I wasn't lying. I really fucking need you. Please. Please, tonight." He whimpers, arms wobbling from where he placed it to hover over you. You just can't say no.

One nod sealed the deal for him, and his lips were on you again. This time, it's on your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your eyes.

He pecks down to your neck. Everything inside you feels so fuzzy, especially when he kissed and sucked on those sensitive parts. He lowers down to your shoulders, and you can feel the bruises forming. You love the way it feels. You love the way he feels. You love him.

××《☆》××

End - Chapter nine: You Belong To Me

Next - Chapter Ten: I love you

××《☆》××

WHAT'S UP GUYS??? So, like this is nice (i need him so bad OMFGGGGG) totally can still breathe after that last scene (i can't i want him pls omg) so like hope you enjoyed THAT cliffhanger. It's better than my old cliffhangers, right? But overall, i hope you enjoyed THE WHOLE chapter bcs its real nice, and it's all me. ONE CHAPTER LEFT!!!