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aly4khq · 2 months

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- 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃! -

- 𝔁𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓮𝓻, 𝔃𝓪𝔂𝓷𝓮, 𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓪𝔂𝓮𝓵, 𝓼𝔂𝓵𝓾𝓼 -

tags: breeding kink, squirting, belly bulge

word count: 601

"come on..." the intoxicating scent of your body was a drug, spreading your list over to him as your hips slammed down mercilessly on his thighs, using his shoulders to balance yourself. his smug expression slowly disappeared as his head rolled back, his eyes sealed shut. the whimpers filling your ears as you tried your best to keep yourself going. "fuck xavier-" he was so long it felt like he was trying to burst through your uterus; yet the pleasure only had you begging and bouncing more on his cock. your head flying back as you moaned out loud.

there was a overwhelming tension in your stomach, the intense feeling slowly but gently took over your stamina and strength. your movements began to differ, xavier's hands around your waist in and instant. "no. keep going." his eyes became dark, a mission in mind. you tried but the strength in your legs was nearly gone, a huff coming from you as you shook your head no. one thing about xavier is that he will always go by his word, and if you were going to do it, he will.

with a simple lift, he thrusted into you while still bouncing you up and down. your head finding its way to the crook off his neck as your moans were cut off at every thrust, "ah!- uhhh-xavierrr...oh my gosh.." you called out; your nails digging into his soft skin scratching the surface. the orgasm you were holding it earlier was too strong to overcome, submitting to it as a deep moan came out as a cry, damn you needed some good dick and you got it. he groaned before possessively grabbing your chin in his soft hands, "who do you belong to?" you whined, every time you connected it was enough to make you sob, but to avoid further consequences you made yourself speak. "y-you..ahh!"

"you wanna cum baby? hm?" he teases, thrusting harder knowing that you can't speak, the feeling of him so deep. it felt like he was in your throat, your eyes full of tears. "mhm..please.." your lips sucked on his neck, trying to keep your mind in control; your other hand in his hair, tugging on the soft white locks as his head lifted a little.

his cerulean soft glare meeting yours with a smile, his hands rubbing at your back as he thrusted upwards, "what do you want, should i cum into this little pussy of yours?" his hand rested on your lower stomach , pressing against the appearing bulge. your head nodded aggressively, more whines filling the room. his beautiful face stared as you nodded, gently rubbing a hand down your hip to your thigh, "words."

"yes...please.." a small chuckle from xavier was enough to make you shiver. soft lips meet each other messily as the two of you let your bodies take over, "how sweet." he replied, pushing once more into you before a clear liquid gushed out of you at fast pace, his cum shooting up into your pussy. a deep wail came from above as he kissing your chin, both of you trying to relax yourself. it was so intense, you felt...more messy. staring down, you noticed xavier trying to hide his laugh. confused, you glared down to see the mess on both of your stomach and the bed. after your mind realised, a whine followed. your head hiding in his neck, extremely embarrassed, "i did not just do that-" his laugh cut you off, his head leaning back, "i didn't know you were that pent up."

tags: bondage, clit rubbing, light overstim

word count: 719

you held onto his desk, your nails digging into the material as the rest of your body hit zayne's pelvis; his hands tightly wrapped around your waist. the position you were in made it harder for you to take a break, since he could easily slap your thighs in o being you back to work, "you're perfect for me.." he whispered in your ear, his hands slowly travelling down to your clit, softly rubbing it with precise. moans and squeals gradually became louder the faster he rubbed, his fingers correlating with his praise; the pace of his hand was steady yet overwhelmingly fast. your hand falling down to grasp your thigh, back arching as your head rested on the table.

his chest vibrated a little against yours as he pulled you back further onto his cock, splitting you apart. "oh- it's too much-" a sharp inhale make everything worse, the coil your stomach brutal as it burnt your stamina. "let it out, don't be shy." he ran a hand up your back, moving down on your waist to your hip. "so pretty for me." just as you gasped, that tight coil snapped roughly, the liquids of your love spreading out onto his legs and the chair. your body breathing deeply, trying to get your stamina back. zayne is a very careful yet teasing man, he's a little bit of a secret kink lover. he stared at your gorgeous body, his mind going through every emotion possibly. he had a few ideas in mind and he's gonna show them today.

you felt his hand rise, his body moving a little as he took his first few buttons of his shirt off. you tried to look behind to see what he was doing, only to be met with a pinch on your side instantly making you look back in front of you. he sat up properly, slightly moving you upwards as gravity brought you down. a hiss escaping your mouth as he grabbed your wrists. "remember when i grabbed your wrists during training,". oh shit.

your memory came back, you remember that day. you two were sparring in the training room just to be on track when he pinned you down onto the mat, his big hand wrapped around your wrist easily while the other pressed ok your upper back. he was sat on the back of your thigh, not properly but just enough so you could shift around. but something unusual happened. a moan filling his ears, he didn't even realise that it was..that type of moan until he stopped moving. "did you just..?-" "no i didn't. it's a lie and you're hallucinating." his eyebrows furrowed before letting you up, smirking. "sure."

he tied your hands behind you with his tie, and as much as you tried to disobey and pull away it seemed impossible. the knot was secure and if you moved in the wrong way it'll get even tighter. "i always told you. i'll show you how surgeons tie knots." just as he spoke, he grabbed your waist, a silent way of telling you to start riding or he'll do it himself. you scofffed, moving your hips up and down on his dick, his groans filling you with motivation as you continued, letting out a shiver as his dick twitched inside of you. the motion between you too rough and fast, the tension nearly breaking him. "oh shit..!"

"just like that..fuck..." he grabbed your flesh in his hands, squeezing your thighs with both of his hands. leaving a kiss on your back, a smile appeared at your lips as you continued, riding him with the best movement you could. his hands massages your scalp as he slightly pulled on your hair, "zayne- i'm close...mmph!" unexpectedly, just as both of you were about to release, he gave you a pointed thrust. a loud moan coming from the lips as you came together. you gently rode his pelvis as he hissed pushing you up a little from his sensitive cock. "alright...give me a second." you giggled, before tilting your head towards your arms. "didn't know you like bondage, doctor." he stared at you, his glare intense. "don't call me that.." you protested, staring down at him, "or what?"

to your surprise, you felt him hardening inside you again. "oh no-"

tags: bondage, blindfold, overstim

word count: 682

rafayel was on a chair in his room, his eyes intensely glaring you with those galaxy eyes of his. his hands bound behind his back with red rope. his eyes watching you slowly undress, letting your bra strap run down your arm; his body trying to escape from the restraints, your body turning around as you placed your bra onto his lap. his eyes widening at the gesture before staring at you, love and obsession in his facial expression. he watched you take off your panties— the one he bought that matched his eye colour— just to seduce him, the lace hypnotising him as he let out a shaky whimper. "baby please...you're killing me." yet his voice was soft and gentle, his stare and his desire to touch you wasn't as nice.

you walked around him, letting your lingerie running up his abs to his shoulder then around his neck before stopping behind him, putting your arms down his shoulders, touching his skin while your face came to his neck. his body shivered as a response to your touch, grabbing a smile from you. "so sensitive already? this is gonna be a short night rafayel." he scoffed, his eyebrows furrowed. his response as sassy as ever, "more like a long night if you don't go faster." you smiled against his neck before pulling his hair a little, rafayel hissing in response.

your lips latched onto his neck as you circled around, only pulling away to retrieve his dick in your hand, sitting down on it. his head rolled back due to your abrupt change in position. "s-shit! why are you in such a rush?" your stare was enough to make him realise his fate, his eyes closed before they watched your motions as he breathed heavily, "wait-" it was too late, your body was connecting with his hips. he groaned before cursing, your own moans connecting with his. "you just love to be sassy don't you rafayel?" you had a good feeling that he was planning something. but soon enough your mind was changed as he sighed, "it's just who i am-"

you bounced harder, making sure that he was struggling. the force of your hips hitting the air out of his lungs before you started to slow down. "no..come on." he whined out, staring at you with a slight irritation, yet it was all playfully. just as you were paying attention, in your peripheral you saw the rope burn into nothing and disappeared. "rafayel!-" a piece of cloth came to over your eyes, shocking you. your hands went to touch the fabric when they were swiftly grabbed, your wrist exposed as he bit your hand.

"you just love to think you have control of me," rafayel grabbing your hips, before roughly pulling you hard onto his dick. the tip reaching that sweet spot in you as you gasped, not able to see. "ahh! rafa!-" he continued, you could barely speak. the thrusts he was giving you were so passionate. you could feel him in your throat, your breasts moving with your body as you were rapidly moved. he latched his tongue onto your skin, making sure to leave his mark big a clear of you. "my woman."

he grabbed your nape, pulling you to his lips as he deeply kissed you, his dick still stimulating your body. he pulled away before kissing your neck, leaving purple marks everywhere. his other hand went down, slapping your pussy and rubbing your clit with effortless power. "uhhh..uh! please..ahh!" his touch was too much, leaving you an overstimulated mess. he was merciless, making sure that you felt every single thrust he was giving you. "take it." he pulled you in again, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of speaking. he shoot loads— and i mean loads— of his cum into you, giving you just enough tension to let go. both of you huffing as you finally pulled away, "oh...my gosh.." you fell onto his chest, he chuckled before taking off your blindfold. "you're pretty when you've been fucked nicely."

"...what the fuck even happened?"

tags: impact play, degrading (whore + slut), railing

word count: 774

you sat on top of him, your hands resting on his shoulders as a deep groan came from you. he's currently pretending to be bored, making you do the work. you want him to rail you, yet he wants you to ride him so no one you are gonna do anything until you start riding him because what he says goes and he's too stubborn. "fucking wanker.." his deep, blooming red eyes met yours with a slight annoyance, his hands grabbing your neck before holding you to his face. "who are you talking to?" now, you had two options; submit and apologise, riding him or stand on business and talk back. and if he thinks you didn't pick two then he better shoo. "who else is being a bitch?" you narrows you eyes as him, grabbing his throat back. sylus stared at your dumbfounded for a second before he turned stern, and that's where you messed up big time.

he grabbed the riding crop from underneath his bed before making you stare at him, his glare nearly making you fold. "start, before it gets messy." huffing and puffing, you lazily bounced up and down barely lifting your body, letting out fake moans and your arms crossed. "ahh oh my days..sylus i guess.." you didn't even realised how visibly sylus' rage was increasing, his tongue poking at his cheek. just as you were gonna make another snarky comment, a harsh sting landed on your ass, your hands pushing on his chest. "ow! what the hell?-" he landed another harsh blow, moving your hands. "you anger me so badly. do as i say." he rose his hand again before you finally submit, grabbing the riding crop. "okay! damn?

you lifted your hips before falling down onto him, letting your confidence take you down the path of lust as the pace quickened. your hands on sylus' shoulders as his head went to your neck. "come on..you can do better than that, slut. honestly." offended, you went harsher, letting your ass slap against his thighs, making a loud noise of slapping skin. even your mind was begging you to stop but you didn't, you picked option two didn't you? "i'm doing better than you ever could." he chuckled before he hissed, nearly letting out a moan. whimpers were brought to his ears as he realsied that you were slowly riding yourself to death. without you noticing, he placed a pillow next to him, just in case you fell.

you continued, feeling the desperate need to let yourself go on his girthy cock. "like that? huh?" the sounds of the bed hitting the wall was seriously loud, stylus's hands going to your waist as he groaned, "that's my line..be original." although sylus was keeping up the tough act, he's never been ridden so hard. if he wasn't moving so much you could see the shiver of his body, your touch hypnotic as both of you came close to your release. but when he felt you slow down, he took manners into his own hands, flipping you around so he was on top, folding your legs up before pounding into your pussy; the moan escaping you were shameless.

he's never had you in such a position before and damn it nearly made you stay thinking about how on earth someone could have deadly dick? you went to beg him to stop, his hands grasping your tits in his hands as he sucked the skin before letting go with a pop! "oh! ah! sy- i'm cumming..!" you wailed as you came on his dick, his face so serious as he continued to fuck to his benefit. you were slowly becoming sensitive by the second, his dick hitting that wonderful spot as he fucking you into your orgasm, his following after before you felt his dick shiver but not soften. even after he's had an intense feeling, he was too into it to stop. "sylus..?"

"i always keep a deal, you rode me, i'll rail you." as much as you loved the idea, you were just joking around and now you fear for your legs after. he manoeuvred your hands so they were together, his hand hole ding your wrists as he stared down at you with a terrifying grin. he looked into your eyes to confirm you wanted this and you nodded, but still cautious for your poor pussy. "sylus, you know how hard it is to even handle you in general?! you're gonna break me-" "thats just fine." he put a hand over your mouth before pulling out, not giving you a chance to breath before he slammed back harshly.

damn, riding their dicks held serious results.

100 followers special! ❤️

thank you guys so muchhh, i love you to the end of space and back! i'm so happy to have a little community of my own, i wish for the best future.💋💋💋

do not steal @aly4khq's work even tho they are trash

date made: 28-31/07/25

i do not give permission to repost or copy elsewhere.

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peachesofteal · 8 months

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Light On - single mom/neighbor fic - PTSD, mentions of death, trauma Simon Riley/female reader

Simon’s boots are sticking to the floor.

He had scrubbed and scrubbed them, scratched a sponge against the sole and up over the toe, used coiled wool to try to scrape the bits and pieces from the bottom, digging deeply into the cracks to try to dislodge anything leftover from the last month. The heat made it a particularly difficult task, melting together the dirt and blood, sealing it to the rubber in a congealed mess that he couldn’t clean off.

It’s spring now, and his breath doesn’t fog through the air like it did before he left. The mornings are coated in a prickly frozen dew that sparkles just right in the sunrise, refracting orange and pink hues into the building’s front lobby, washing over the bland egg white walls and coloring them into a spectacle, cold shadows of night chased away by the long fingers of warm daylight.

His boots scuff along the hallway, squeaking like they’re trying to announce his arrival, trying to give up his position before he deems it necessary, before he gets inside the entryway, blasting a signal through the flat that he’s home, that he’s made it. The sound of his boots competes with the buzzing that’s bouncing around in the back of his skull, sawing through the soft, pink mush of his brain, trying hack away at the only good pieces he has left. It’s gotten louder since he parked the car, competing with the drum beat of his heart, the churning of anxiety and anticipation in his stomach. He’s so, so close, and still a thousand miles away from you, even though he’s in the kitchen. His fingers grip fast to his bag, canvas straps twisted around his wrist, and he holds his breath, world rotating in slow motion as he listens for you, catches the musical note of your voice in Emma’s room. His spine stays stiff, unsure, and the buzzing that bites at his synapses gets louder, fills his head with the low rumble of fear that’s been simmering beneath the surface since he stepped out this door a month ago. You’re safe. You’re here. You and Emmaline are fine. You’ve been texting him everyday. You’re safe. You’re-

“Simon?” He blinks. You’re in the kitchen with him, eyes sleepy, Emma in your arms. One of his t shirts sits at your hips, plaid robe half falling off your shoulder. She’s more awake than you appear to be, and he begs his mouth to work, encourages his tongue to move so he can talk to you, so he can say “good morning, sorry I didn’t call, wanted to surprise you.” Or “hi, good morning, I missed you so much.”

But he can’t. Because all he can see, all he can taste, is blood. He doesn’t see his girl, he sees you broken and limp on the floor. He doesn’t see his baby, he sees Joseph’s lifeless body. He sees the carnage of this last op, hears the dying draw of a last breath, over and over.

“Hey.” Your fingers tentatively skim along his forearm. “You’re still dressed.” You note, and he nods, locked up, trying to push the buzzsaw in his brain away. He didn’t change, showered at the safe house before the flight home, and then immediately headed your way, his uniform clean, untouched by the gore and misery, still starched and formal unlike his tac gear, all of it made to wring the blood from its stitching over and over again. “Simon, someone wants to see you.” Emma’s now half in his arms, cooing at him, carefully supported in your hands, and he instinctively curls around her, swooping low to nose along her scalp.

The reverberations cease. The buzzing and gnawing and stabbing into his brain silences, just like that, and he fills his lungs with air, one hand now cradling your face, the other warm beneath Emma’s weight.

“Welcome home.” It’s a whisper, the softest, sweetest thing he’s ever heard, and he smiles beneath the balaclava, pressing his lips to your forehead. “We missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He murmurs. He wonders if the moment has passed, if he should be stepping away now, and he flexes, testing- only to be pulled back, an arm sliding around his back, anchoring him closer, tighter.

“Just stay here for a minute.” Stay. Stay here with you, stay with his girls. His voice roughens as he croaks out an answer.

“Always.”

#light on #peaches writes #Simon Riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader

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elixirfromthestars · 1 month

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Usual

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Florist!Reader

Summary: Bucky keeps to his usual routine every week. On Mondays, it includes you.

Word Count: ~700

Warning(s): none. fluffy goodness <3 established nickname ⟶ tulip

a/n: This Bucky has been swimming in my head for a while, so this little drabble came out as a result. Hope you enjoyed reading! Feedback is always appreciated 🤍 Also I'm hosting a little writing challenge if you want to check it out. 🤍

The bells above your shop door chimed a short melody as it opened. The steady thud of heavy boots followed suit. You turn to face the entrance with your usual welcoming demeanor.

It was Monday. He always comes on Monday.

“ Hey, Bucky. Here for the usual?” You ask like clockwork, already knowing the answer.

“ ‘Course, Tulip,” he replies, smiling at you with that usual twinkle in his eyes. The one that only shows up when he talks to you. You can’t help the way your heart skips a beat when he uses that nickname he gave you months ago.

“ Coming right up,” you respond, turning to the small shelves behind the counter. The ones lined up with your homemade jams and honeys. Every Monday he buys three of each to serve at his bar in a mix of different snack dishes.

His favorite happens to be the one he named after you—Tulip’s Sweet Special.

Bucky strolls over to the flowers that align the walls adjacent to the front counter. Rows upon rows of an array of colors and different-sized petals. A rainbow of the prettiest blooms nature has to offer.

Meanwhile, you’re putting the mason jars of sweet spreads in a small wicker basket. Glancing at him briefly to stare at his side profile and the way he looks at the flowers intently. Almost as if waiting for them to speak to him.

You wonder what flowers he’ll choose today.

You don’t have to wonder for long as he walks over to the counter with a bouquet of white and pink daises, adorned with a touch of lavender. You look at them with a knowing smile on your face. The rugged biker almost looks comical—in the sweetest way—with the bouquet in hand.

“ Will that be all?” You ask him, motioning to the flowers and the goods in the basket. Bucky nods, lightly scratching at the stubble on his face,“ That’s all, Tulip. And I’ll get ya that basket of yours later. Forgot it back at the bar,” he mentions the basket he borrowed a week ago to transport last week’s items on his bike.

Of course, he forgot it. He always does.

“ No need. I’ll just come by the bar later and get it,” you say to him—this little forgetful exchange an excuse to see each other again. It's about the fifth time you’ve done this little rendezvous in the last two months.

Bucky grins in a way that would make any woman swoon,“ I’ll be waitin’ on ya then.” You can’t help the warmth that finds its way to your face.

You ring him up, and as you’re getting his change ready he places the flowers in the empty vase on the counter. The one you leave for whatever flowers he buys for you that week. You look at them and the way he delicately places them inside, with a tender care you were one of a handful of people who’s ever seen him dawn. The action envelopes you with a doting affection.

“ Thank you for the flowers, Bucky,” you say with a soft sincerity. No matter how many times he buys you flowers the action still causes your heart to flutter.

“ No need for the thanks—or the change,” he says, lightly closing your fingers around the change in your hand with his calloused one. The slight touch is electric and it makes you both yearn for more.

You give him that look. That usual look that says you’re doing this again and he replies with a look that conveys hell yeah I am.

You know better than to argue with that look.

“ Come spend it at my bar later instead,” he suggests shrugging nonchalantly—but his eyes and grin reflect everything but nonchalance. There’s a deep rooted sentiment there that is desperate to be freed and brought to the surface.

You hum, pretending to think about it,“ Alright, deal.” Bucky responds to your agreement by giving you a pleased nod.

Bucky grabs the basket of goods. The rough exterior of his hands contrasted with the gentle almost tender way he held the basket. He was always delicate and careful with anything that belonged to you.

The basket looked so much smaller when he held it.

Bucky sends you a farewell wink,“ See ya later, Tulip,” and then he turns to leave with a small wave of his hand.

“ See you later, Bucky,” you reply before leaning on the counter, hands resting in your palms. You watch him walk back out to his motorcycle with a longing stare.

When he was out of sight, you listened intently to the revving of his engine bike, anticipating the day you two would go past the usual.

Until then you’d cherish this routine affair.

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aerynwrites · 11 months

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Unexpected, But Not Unwelcome

Gale Dekarios x afab!Reader/Tav

A/N: based on this request - god I literally wrote this the second that I got it lol. Gale was the perfect one to write this request for imo and it was such a pleasure!

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: pregnant reader, slight angst, pregnancy, fluff.

The longer you’ve lived in Waterdeep the more you start to understand why the balcony outside the study is Gales' chosen spot in his tower.

You still remember the slight shock you felt when you first arrived to see the space was exactly like the illusion he showed you all those months ago.

Now it’s also become your place of solace, much to the wizards delight.

“Views like this are much better enjoyed with company. And I couldn’t wish for a better half to spend it with.”

The balcony is swathed in deep orange light, the sun slowly creeping towards the horizon, the bottom just barely kissing the edge of sea way out in the distance. Her fading rays dance along the calm bay waters, the only disturbance to its surface being the few ships leaving or entering port.

‘What do they carry?’ you wonder.

Fine silks and clothing? Or perhaps rare spices from across the world. It’s a game you find yourself playing more often than not whenever you sit out here. But now…

Now it’s all you can do to try and focus on the ships, your mind constantly flitting back to the news you were given earlier in the day.

You’d missed your monthly cycle a few weeks back, and while it wasn’t immediately alarming, that along with other symptoms finally made you decided to seek out a healer.

Gale had told you of his plans to spend the day at Sorcerers Sundries, looking for a specific tome for research he was working on. So, today was the perfect day to slip away unnoticed. You didn’t want to worry your husband unnecessarily, but now you want nothing more than for him to be home, the news eating away at you.

You’re pregnant.

It’s honestly nothing you’ve ever truly thought about. Before the tadpoles, you’d been alone, just living day to day in Baldur’s Gate. Then of course the whole tadpole incident happened and then…you met Gale and fell in love and started to build a life with him here, in Waterdeep.

You’re honestly surprised the topic never came up. But now, with it staring you in the face…a sense of uncertainty settles deep in your belly.

Tara noticed immediately of course, aware of your unusual quietness as you retreated to the balcony as soon as you got home. You’d found yourself spilling the news to the intelligent cat as soon as she asked, her deep eyes softening ever so slightly as she jumped in your lap and curled up.

You couldn’t help but sense a wave of excitement coming from her, though. A sense that somewhat calmed you despite the nerves running wild in your mind.

That was a few hours ago, Tara hasn’t moved from her spot, lounging peacefully as you stroked her fur and watch the ships glide across the water.

Only the very distant sound of the tower door opening and closing, and Gales faint greeting finally pulls you from your thoughts, that anxiety creeping back in full force as you tense.

Tara sits up as well, stretching and letting out an enviable yawn. You wish you could be that relaxed.

“Relax, dear,” Tara says gently, nuzzling your hand before turning to jump from your lap. “I feel you have nothing to be worried about.”

She turned and pads towards the inside of the tower just as Gale appears in the archway, stopping to offer her a welcoming scratch before she disappears.

He sends you a warm smile as he rights himself, approaching and taking a seat next to you on the padded bench, arm wrapping around your waist instinctively as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“How was your day, my love?” He asks, nose nuzzling your cheek.

You smile, realizing it doesn’t quite reach your eyes past the anxiety roiling in your chest. “It was good,” you tell him, not completely lying but not offering the full truth either. “How was your adventure to Sorcerer’s Sundries?”

At the mention of the bookstore Gale’s eyes light up as he tells you about what he found. Slowly, as he talks about the new information he found regarding his research, you both maneuver into a more comfortable position. Gale moves to lay across the length of the padded bench, leaning against the armrest as you settle between his legs, back resting against his chest.

His arms wrap loosely around your middle, hands resting over your stomach, completely unaware of the life that’s now growing there.

His words fade into the background as your mind starts to wander again, your hands moving to rest atop his own, your fingers slipping to toy with the simple gold band around his ring finger.

You don’t truly have many worries about the news. You know that Gale will weather anything with you but…you don’t want this to be a storm, or anything negative. What if Gale doesn’t want children? What if he pulls away from you when you tell him the news or is just as scared as you feel?

Soft lips against your neck pull you from your thoughts, familiar fingers slipping between your own to give them a squeeze.

“I know my research ramblings can at times be boresome. However, you seem to be lost to me more than usual this evening.” His words are gentle with just a touch of amusement as rests his head against yours. “What’s on your mind?”

You don’t respond right away, your nerves at an all time high and making your already tumultuous stomach even more uneasy. You squeeze his hand in yours.

“I went to see a healer today.”

Gale’s arms tighten around you, and you can feel the way he sits up straighter, your words concerning him.

“A healer? I didn’t even notice - are you sick?” He asks, worry clear in his voice. “I cannot believe I was so preoccupied I failed to take note of-“

You tug on the sleeve of his robes, holding him tighter to you. “I’m not sick. At least not…” You trail off, taking your lip between your teeth.

Gale urges you on with a gentle press of his lips to your shoulder, and that action alone seems to calm the raging sea of anxiety within you.

“I’m with child, Gale.”

The silence that follows your revelation feels oppressive. The only sounds meeting your ears being the lapping of waves against the shore and the distant call of gulls in the air.

Emotion clogs your throat as you clutch his hand. “Please…say something.”

You sit up then, turning to face the man behind you, but before you can fully do so, two strong arms wrap around you and bring you to your feet. Your surroundings turn into a blur around you as Gale spins you through the air, boisterous laughter falling from his lips until he brings you to a stop, capturing you in a breathtaking kiss.

His lips are warm and his arms secure as he holds you to him, as if afraid this would all fade away if he were to let you go.

Heat floods your cheeks when he pulls away, elation adorning his features as he looks at you, eyes glowing with an utter joy you’ve never quite seen on him before. He cradles your face in his hands, thumbs brushing softly against your cheeks.

“I’m going to be a father? We’re going to have a child?” He asks, whispering the words in unbelieving reverence.

The smile that splits your lips is almost painful, any and all anxiety dissipating from you as you take in his reaction.

“Yes they…The healer said I would start showing soon, and if we want…Towards the end of the pregnancy they should be able to tell us the gender,” you tell him, hands grasping at the fabric of his robe.

Gale smiles wider, hands falling down to cradle your stomach and the new life that sits there.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says gently. “They will be loved either way, and no doubt a powerful wielder of the weave if I have anything to say about it.”

You can’t stop the chuckle that slips past your lips, and the surprising happy tears that fall down your cheeks. Gale notices the streaks immediately, smile faltering ever so slightly as he reaches back up to wipe the tears away.

“Why the tears? This is a joyous occasion, we should be celebrating!”

You shake your head, reaching up to place your hand atop his own as you turn to press a kiss to his palm. “They aren’t tears of grief…I was worried. Worried about telling you. I didn’t…we’ve never talked about children.”

Your husband smiles gently, eyes reassuring as he leans in to press a kiss to the corner of your lips. “I can admit that this news was unexpected, but it’s…it is not unwelcome,” he tells you, eyes bright once more. “I’ve never given much thought to children because of everything that had consumed my mind in the past and then you appeared in my life and took over the rest of my thoughts,” he laughs. “But this…” He presses his hands to your belly again. “This is more than I could have ever asked for. More than any power I’ve ever dreamed of having. I find myself filled with indescribable joy at the thought of creating a life with you - a family.”

You press your lips to his as soon as the words leave his lips, pulling him impossibly closer until you break away to nuzzle into the space between his head and shoulder, excitement and happiness threatening to burst from your chest.

“I love you, Gale Dekarios.” You say, smiling as he pulls you tighter against him. “I can’t wait to start a family with you.”

You move to speak, but the presence of a familiar winged feline interrupts you as Tara rushes onto the balcony, wiggling happily.

“Oh my!” She exclaims, weaving between yours and Gale’s legs before jumping effortlessly up to perch on his shoulder as you both separate. “This is most exciting! Another Dekarios, can you believe it?” She asks, turning to Gale. “Hopefully this one won’t light himself on fire like you did all those years ago.”

You watch in amusement as Gale flushes a light shade of pink, flicking Tara’s ear playfully. “I was just starting to learn to master the weave! And I was eight, you can hardly blame me.”

You chuckle at their antics and reach up to card your hands through his hair at the nape of his neck, drawing his attention back to you.

“Well, they will have the best teacher. There’s no telling what they will accomplish with you as their guide.”

Gale smiles, leaning down to kiss you one last time before embracing you once more.

“We’ll guide them together.”

You hum in agreement, basking in the golden rays of the setting sun, the snapping of sails echoing across the water as you whisper against his skin.

“Together.”

Tags:

@dark-and-kawaii

#Gale dekarios x reader #gale x reader #bg3 x reader #gale x tav #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale

2K notes · View notes

some-bunniii · 7 months

Text

My Charming Red Savior [4]

・❥ A friend revealed, and warm feelings.

x: pronouns are she/her. no use of y/n.

xx: decided to change the saving fem!reader to its AO3 title, so all parts of this fic have been updated for this change as well!

~6.8k words

warnings: depictions of blood/injury

“Did I miss anything?”

Those were the first words the King of Hell had spoken atop the large patio, as you stood in awe, battered, with dust and debris sticking to your body. You blinked, frozen in place as your eyes scanned over the pearlescent man’s figure, who grinned charmingly across from you.

He leaned lazily against the gold railing, now partially destroyed from the small explosions that had peppered the front of the hotel. The screams and snarls from below were all but silenced now, except for one or two stragglers who could be seen making a run for it in the distance. But, not before a large, swamp-green tentacle snaked around them, and began beating them into the ground. It wasn’t long before your gaze was back on Lucifer, a million thoughts racing through your head.

It wasn’t until Lucifer’s smile faltered slightly at your silent staring, did he clear his throat, nervously tapping against the apple-tipped cane in his grip. “You look a little shaken up, are you doing good over there?”

You were about to open your mouth to speak, until your eyes darted to another small, cylindrical object flying right towards Lucifer. You recoiled, throwing your hands in front of your face as it closed in on the fallen angel.

“Watch out!” You cried to him, squeezing your eyes shut as you waited for the familiar boom of the grenade to shake the patio. Lucifer whipped his head around, eyebrows raised as the grenade soared towards him. Lifting his arm, he caught it in his hand before it could hit him in the face, before raising it to get a closer look.

You splayed your fingers, peeking through the small gap when you realized once more that your heart was still beating. Raising an eyebrow, your face contorted into surprise as your gaze rested on the object in Lucifer’s hand.

The bomb ticked quietly in his palm, slowly increasing in speed as the seconds went by. It vibrated in his grip, and Lucifer only inspected it casually, rolling it between his fingers with interest.

Was he just going to hold it until it exploded? You watched silently with wide eyes, unsure of what exactly was going to happen. If it went off, would the King of Hell even have a scratch on him? Maybe, that was why he seemed so confident holding a bomb in his hands. Watching Lucifer catch it casually in the air a few times only cemented that thought.

The perks of being immortal, you supposed.

“Hm, seems they got the timing off on this one,” Lucifer observed, just as the ticking seemed to increase to every millisecond. Right when you were sure it was about to go off in his palms, Lucifer’s fingers curled around it. It looked like he was squeezing the cylinder like a balloon, as the black, metal surface contorted, shifting from the pressure.

Instead of lighting into a ball of flame, the bomb exploded in a burst of multi-colored confetti. Which sprayed across the patio, a few stray pieces landing on your face as they settled onto the floor. You were silent, in awe at the magical display. Lucifer only grinned at you, a silent boast of his powers as he caught you gawking. He adjusted his collar, still leaning against the railing as he brushed some confetti from his shoulder pads.

Realizing he had noticed your staring, your cheeks began to heat in embarrassment. You lay your eyes for the first time on the most powerful man in Hell and all you can do is stand there and look dumb, get it together! Leaning forward, your head practically hits the cracked tile flooring as you bow.

“Your Majesty, I apologize for my rudeness!” You quickly pipe up, your eyes still locked to the floor as you keep your head down, “Thank you for saving my life, I don’t know if I’d be alive without your intervention.”

“It was no biggie.” Lucifer shrugged, waving his hand in the air in a sweeping motion, as he brushed off your compliment. He lifted himself from the railing, taking a few steps forward as he began to cross the patio. “Can’t have my daughter’s friends be attacked by a couple of low-life thugs.. again! What kind of a father would that make me?”

You straightened, lifting your head to meet his gaze. Your brows furrowed as the words left his lips, mouth opening slightly as if you were about to question him on his statement.

‘Daughter’. Was he talking about Charlie? Of course, he must be, she looked like a carbon copy of him! But, that would mean… it wasn't an imp that had approached you yesterday morning during your shift. At least, not any normal imp. Does that mean you had been talking to…?

It was in the same instance that Lucifer leaned in closer to you, his eyes squinted in thought as he inspected your face. He placed a finger on his chin in thought, as he regarded you with a curious expression through those soft, yellow eyes of his.

“Wait a second… do I know you from somewhere?” He questioned finally, raising an eyebrow in anticipation. You smiled as you thought of a response, your hands rubbing together in a soothing motion. Lucifer’s eyes lit up in recognition before you could say anything, and he snapped his finger as connected the dots.

“That's right! You were that sweet worker at the formalwear store yesterday, weren’t you? The one that opened early for me!” He beamed, taking another step closer as your eyes widened at the proximity.

“Y-yes, that was me, Your Majesty.” You stammered out, cursing yourself so being so godamn nervous. “Except, I wasn’t really aware that you were... well, you?”

“Oh, heh, yeah, my impish disguise. Pretty good, eh?”

Yeah, it was. There wasn’t anything that would have made you guess that imp was actually Lucifer, at least before you had met the man. Except, for the height. That hadn’t seemed to change between the two appearances, as you still had to lower your head to meet his gaze even now.

You took a deep breath, calming your jittering nerves as you again realized who was standing right in front of you. Never once did you think a lowly citizen of Hell like you would be this close to the Lucifer Morningstar! Should you have kneeled instead when you greeted him? What was the proper etiquette for this kind of thing? Alastor would have surely known.

That thought made you lean over slightly to get a peek past the fallen angel’s brimmed hat. Your eyes followed the slender, shadowy forms of tentacles snaking around the last two criminals, who were trying to shoot the large masses.

“Aren’t you, um, going to go help..?” You pointed behind him, and Lucifer turned to follow your finger just as another thug was flung past the large fence that surrounded the hotel. Their squeal of fear faded as they disappeared from view. Static-laced laughter filled the air as the tentacles began to dissipate.

“Nah, I think your… friend down there has it covered.” Lucifer shrugged after a moment, turning back to face you.

You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath to calm your jittering nerves. Between last night and this, you were about ready to lay in your bed and hibernate for the next three months. Life was exhausting, it seemed.

“Well, that was fun!” Lucifer smiled, nodding along as he clasped his hands together. “Didn’t think I’d find drug dealers trying to knock down the walls, though. Looks like I really have to up the security around here.”

You nodded along half-heartedly, and watched as he strolled past you towards the door. He only made it a few steps before he halted, and you jumped slightly as he pivoted to face you. He waggled a finger at you, mock suspicion in his gaze as he leaned in. Now that you could get a better look at him,

“I also was not expecting to find you here, either. Only yesterday, it seemed like you had no idea the hotel even existed. Now, I find you in the raging path of a feral tea table. An odd turn of events, don't you think?”

You smiled, heat creeping onto your cheeks in embarrassment. You probably looked pretty pathetic when Lucifer was saving you, curled in a ball while you accepted your grim fate. You wished you had some kind of badass demon magic, so you didn’t have to be so helpless. Did Alastor ever feel helpless? No, probably not, he seemed so confident in every situation you saw him face.

The way he strolled down the stairs so casually when the thugs had first attacked, made it seem like he had done that kind of thing many times before. But, it seemed like that was true, since you patched up one scuffle on his coat, and were told of his encounter with Sir. Pentious–which you simply couldn't believe would attempt such a thing, now that you’ve met him–a few months prior.

You wondered what made him and Lucifer struggle to get along, had something happened in the past between them? Maybe, you could get Alastor to budge with that with a little prodding. For now, you were unsure of what to tell the King. How would he react if you said the only reason you were here was because of Alastor? You didn’t want to lose the friendliness you had with Lucifer, it probably wouldn't be fun to be on the King of Hell’s bad side.

Plus, it seemed like Lucifer liked you. Did that have something to do with the fact that he claimed you were a ‘rare gem’ when it came to being a nice person in Hell? He did give you all that money.. which you lost. Maybe, he’d give you some more if you played your cards right.

And, if it was as friends, you wouldn’t mind getting closer to the fallen angel. He was just so funny and charming, you couldn’t imagine the kind of gossip he had to share, and you wouldn't be bothered if he shared it with you.

“Oh, well, beeeecause I was interested in redemption! Ha-ha, yeah. When we talked earlier, your words just struck something in me! So, I took a tour and stayed the night.”

“Really? I inspired you to come to the hotel?” Lucifer asked incredulously, tilting his head thoughtfully at you. He raised an eyebrow, doubt written across his features.

“That’s right! I mean, you even gave me a bunch of money like it was no big deal. That was very kind of you!” You nodded enthusiastically. That wasn’t exactly a lie, since the conversation with Lucifer yesterday did lead to Alastor revealing more about the hotel, which in turn piqued your interest enough to even consider staying for an extended period.

Slowly, Lucifer's eyes lit at your response, a gleam of happiness that you hadn’t noticed before. He seemed to be standing a little straighter too, as if that was some kind of confidence boost for him. Did Lucifer not… genuinely help people often? Was it something he wished he could do more often?

Seems like ruling a realm full of demons that continually commit the worst atrocities known to mankind would break an angel’s will to want to make a change.

“I wanted to thank you again for your generosity,” you started, your tone genuine as the glint in Lucifer’s eyes only seemed to grow, “All that money you gave me would have really helped,

“Would? What happened?” Lucifer inquired, tilting his head curiously.

“Some guy mugged me,” you stated bluntly, rubbing your shoulder awkwardly. It felt weird telling people about your most vulnerable moments. You found no enjoyment in retelling any of these scary events, and hopefully, your bad luck would end soon.

“And they stole everything from you?”

“Yeah…”

Lucifer huffed in annoyance, his teeth baring slightly as he exhaled a hot breath. He couldn’t exactly be surprised, it was Hell. Not to mention, the guy has been neglecting his kingly duties for a while now and has only just started going to meetings for crying out loud.

“Jeez, I’m sorry about that. Here, let me jus–”

“Where did that new girl go? What do you mean you haven’t seen her?” You could hear Vaggie’s voice from downstairs, as the gaping hole in the side of the hotel made it much easier to hear their conversations now.

You heard multiple inaudible responses to the question, before Vaggie’s rose above them with renewed anger.

“She’s still up there?! you’re telling me none of you numbskulls went to get her after that big explosion?”

“₩Ⱨ₳₮?!” You heard a snarl of static at Vaggie’s words.

Tensing, you kept your eyes trained on Lucifer as you strained your ears to eavesdrop on the voices below. It seemed like they were looking for you now, did they even know whether Charlie’s dad was here?

“Alastor, hold up!” You heard Angel Dust’s call from the bottom of the staircase, which made you pivot to face the closed doors not too far away. Lucifer, who was standing a few steps away from you, looked up curiously as the doors swung open.

Standing there, chest heaving slightly, ears twitching, was Alastor. His eyes instantly landed on you, before quickly scanning over your figure for injuries. Did he just leap up all those stairs? That wasn’t a very short distance by any means.

His arms were outstretched beside him, as he gripped both doors. Alastor’s claws slightly dug into its wood frame as he observed the smoking, half-burnt balcony with a tight-lipped smile. It wasn’t until his eyes met Lucifer’s–you swore you saw a flicker of surprise cross his gaze–that something seemed to flip like a switch inside the demon, and Alastor straightened instantly, his ears returning to their normal placement as corrected his posture.

A large, toothy grin appeared on his face, but you didn’t miss the way his gaze darted between you and Lucifer only a few feet apart. His eyelid twitched as Lucifer sent him a deadly grin behind you, the tension in the air thickening to the point where you felt like you’d suffocate even in this open space.

You only smiled brightly in return, sending Alastor a finger wave as you sidled a step away from the fallen angel beside you. Lucifer, on the other hand, seemed to be having fun as he pivoted slightly to face you. A mischievous glint in his eye as he cocked his head at Alastor, a haughty look on his face.

“Can I help you?” He feigned irritation, an eyebrow quirked as he sent the demon a pointed glance. As if Alastor had just barged in on the two of you deep in discussion, souring the mood.

Alastor wasn’t able to get a word out when multiple footsteps echoed from behind him, noisily clopping up the long staircase as they bickered amongst themselves. A familiar pink spider popped his head over Alastor’s shoulder, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the pearlescent face beside you. More heads appeared around, their eyes scanning across the balcony as they observed the scene.

“Dad?” Charlie asked, squeezing through the clump of nosy demons, surprise written across her face as she passed Alastor.

“Honey!” Lucifer beamed, a smile gracing his features as he met his daughter halfway. Charlie extended her arms, ready to accept Lucifer’s large hug as he returned the gesture. He held her for a moment before he released her, backing up a step as the others pushed past Alastor’s figure to get a better place behind the princess.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at that art auction?” Charlie questioned, tilting her head at him.

“That ended last night.” Lucifer nodded, “Now it’s some kind of celebratory artist-only afterparty, which means even the King of Hell cannot attend, unfortunately. So, I thought I’d drop by. Good timing, it seemed, or else your friend here would not be standing here any longer.”

Lucifer turned to you, gesturing to the dust and debris hanging to your clothes, as you stood there silently with that same awkward smile.

“Oh, yeah. She’s interested in being a resident of our hotel, for redemption!” Charlie smiled excitedly, proud to be able to show her father that her dream was slowly expanding. You nodded along, your hands clasped together politely as they discussed you.

“Yes, I heard! We’ve been having a nice discussion these past few minutes, her and I. A real doll, this one is, just like when I met her previously.”

“You two... have met before?” Charlie finally asked, confusion laced in her voice as she looked between the two of you. The demons behind you shot curious glances in your direction, silently waiting for more juicy details.

“She was there when I bought your tuxedo! I was in disguise, though, so nobody saw me as.. well, me. She even opened up early for me, just out of the kindness of her soul!” Lucifer scooted beside you, nudging you in the arm playfully as he spoke. “Guess you could say I owed her a rescue after that considerate gesture.”

“Did you throw a party up here, too?” Vaggie piped up from the doorway, kicking away at a few stray pieces of the colorful confetti that was sprinkled across the floor. Charlie’s eyes were glinting as she processed her father’s words, before glancing down at the new red suit that she was wearing. She looked up at you with renewed interest, a blooming on her face.

“That was all His Majesty, actually,” you finally spoke, lifting a hand to your mouth as you giggled, “It was pretty impressive, to be honest, I’ve never seen a party trick like that before. I thought the confetti was kinda funny.”

You purposely avoided looking at Alastor as you spoke, so his reaction to your praise was a mystery. Lucifer only smiled proudly beside you, your words boosting his ego.

“Well, that’s not the only trick I’m good at,” Lucifer chuckled. Before he sent you a wink, then a playful smirk that he swept across the small crowd. Their eyes were locked on him, captivated with anticipation for the charming angel to display some of his magical talents.

Except, for Alastor, who only smiled widely, his eyes crinkled in annoyance at the theatrics. You didn’t pay him much mind, instead keeping your attention on Lucifer. During your time in Hell, you hadn’t come into contact with many figures that could harness demonic magic so effortlessly, apart from Alastor.

The King of Hell, however, was on a whole different level, he had pure angelic power. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you were not going to miss this for anything. However, it seemed your admiration was a little too evident, as you missed Alastor's squinted gaze analyzing your expression.

Lucifer finally rested his gaze on Alastor, who met his eyes, just as he tapped his cane against the ground, a flurry of golden sparks igniting from the touch. a vortex of golden eaves began to swirl around his cane, before flooding across the destroyed, cracked floor of the balcony. It was like a small ocean pooling at your feet, and it felt like the ground was shifting underneath you.

Sticking a finger gun towards the split table, Lucifer shot an explosion of magic against its surface, and it crackled with energy. Before you could blink, the two pieces slid together, attaching like Lego pieces back onto their legs. Fresh color adorned the wood, a lovely shade of peach with matching chairs. It settled onto the ground, with not even a scratch from the abuse it had just received.

He aimed a few more magical-loaded digits towards the broken railing, and the spilled flower pots, making pew pew sound effects with his mouth as he did so.

The balcony began to shift back into even better condition than it originally was, the broken scenery straightening itself back into form. Slowly, the golden waves against your ankles dispersed and were pulled back into Lucifer’s cane.

The large, white marble tile beneath your feet was perfectly sealed, not a single crack upon its surface as it sparkled with a newfound shine. You lifted your leg, surprised finding your figure to be completely dry.

The demons around you stood mesmerized by the display, their eyes glowing and lips puckered in a small o. Alastor only tapped his claws against his cane impatiently.

“How is that for a party trick?” Lucifer turned to you, sending you a charming grin.

You were about to open your mouth before Charlie appeared at your side with a happy squeak. Her blonde hair cascaded down your shoulder, the silky strands like feathers against your skin.

“Thank you for the help, Dad!” Charlie beamed, squeezing her cheeks as she stared lovingly at her father, “it’s so great to see you make new friends, too!”

“And, new clients!” Lucifer boasted, adjusting his bowtie with a grin “Last time we talked, I told her all about the hotel and what it offered. Seems like my salesmanship charm prevails once more.”

“How funny,” Alastor’s voice crackled with static as he strode up beside Charlie, planting himself into the small group’s discussion with a grin, “but it appears His Majesty is mistaken, for it was I who persuaded our darling belle here to take a chance at redemption.”

“Pfft! You? Please, you couldn’t even convince an angel to redeem themselves. At least, not with that haircut!” Lucifer laughed, and your mouth dropped open, your gaze flicking to Alastor, who seemed to hesitate for a moment in shock at the bold insult.

Your eyes darted to Charlie. She returned the look, before slapping a hand over her dad’s mouth.

“Okay, moving on!” She replied cheerfully, pinching her dad’s lips closed as she turned towards the staircase. Vaggie shot a glare toward the rest of the onlookers, who began to sadly shrink away.

“I’m afraid Your Majesty is uninformed!” Alastor ignored Charlie, as he walked closer to stand right beside you. Sweat beaded on your forehead, your heartbeat quickening at the realization you were directly in the middle of the two dueling forces.

“Of what?” Lucifer questioned.

“Why, of our association, of course,” Alastor said sweetly, grasping your arm gently as he gestured to your figure. Heat crept onto your cheeks, as you let him slide in closer to you.

“You two know each other?” Lucifer asked, doubt laced in his face as he shot you a questioning stare. You only averted your gaze, unsure of how to respond to all of the prying eyes.

“Indeed! I’m sure you’re familiar with a charm like this?” Alastor smiled innocently, before gingerly holding out your hand, gesturing to your ring finger. That golden ring glinted in the sunlight, and the small rose-gold engraving of the letter A was on full display.

Lucifer’s eyes widened after a moment, and his gaze shot to you, then to Alastor, before landing back on the ring. He seemed to reel back slightly as it finally dawned on him, before his face settled into a look that silently grumbled ‘You gotta be kidding me.’

Charlie gasped, clutching her cheeks as she leaned in closer for a better look. The ecstatic look on her face was a complete inverse to her father, who only averted his gaze at the sight.

You stood with an awkward smile, heat creeping onto your cheeks as you sidled slightly away from Alastor. You did not expect him to be sprinting it back onto these guys, in front of Lucifer no less.

The King only turned to you, disbelief in his features as he sent you a pointed stare.

“You’re telling me you work at a formalwear store, and you picked a guy with this bad of a wardrobe?” He gestured subtly to Alastor’s suit, a grimace on his face as he eyed the demon’s style with contempt.

Alastor only adjusted his bow tie, throwing his hair back as he straightened. He shot you a pointed look too, prodding you with a ‘Are you really going to agree with him?’ stare.

You said nothing, so Alastor only turned to face Lucifer, clasping his hands with a large smile, “I’d take your fashion advice to heart, Your Majesty, but it seems your taste lies at the bottom of a bargain bin, so I must respectfully disagree.”

“Bargain bin?!” Lucifer gasped, a hand shooting up to his chest as he recoiled. A growl rose from the fallen angel’s throat as he opened his mouth to retort, only for Charlie to grab him from behind and pull him away from Alastor.

“I’ll pay you triple the amount from yesterday if you just take that ring off!” Lucifer begged as Charlie dragged him down the steps. “Do you fancy goat horns? I know of someone in the Wrath Ring that is available!”

The father-daughter duo disappeared from view, their voices muffled as you watched the doors slam shut with a crackle of green energy. Turning to face Alastor, you find a smug grin dancing on his lips. You frowned, did this guy really just insult the King of Hell like the man couldn’t stomp him in a moment?

“Your arrogance knows no bounds,” you chastise the demon, waggling your finger as you spoke, “speaking so comfortably with the King in such a condescending manner. He could smite you for that, you know.”

“Verbal sparring with the monarchy is a favorite pastime of mine, sweetheart! I’m sure our dear king enjoys it just as much as I.” Alastor shrugged, twisting the cane between his claws as he regarded you with playful eyes.

“You are such a pain in my—”

Your words died in your throat when the outline of a dark-red rose was thrust towards you, Alastor’s fingers gently curled around its stem as he held it up for view.

“For you.” He smiled, his lips curled in a soft grin.

“Me? But, where did you get this?”

“Some bumbling oaf down there was going to stomp on it, so I stomped him, instead,” Alastor shrugged, extending the rose closer to you as he spoke, “I thought it would be something you’d find interest in. It… reminded me of you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, gaze lowering towards the wine-colored flower. It was beautiful, even with its slightly jagged petals, and the much larger thorns that covered the black stem.

But, for Hell, it was such a relieving sight. To know that something that presented emotions could exist in such an apathetic, pessimistic environment like the realm around you. Honestly, it didn’t have that many similarities in comparison to Earth’s rose, but its mere resemblance made nostalgia pull at your heartstrings.

Old emotions began to boil inside you, and your throat tightened. Even after all the hardships, you still missed the trees and the smell of real, fresh air. The feeling of the sun against your skin, kissing you with a warmth that always stirred a smile onto your lips. Hearing the morning doves in the early spring morning, their gentle coos echoing through the thin veil of fog that settled onto the dew-filled grass.

Now, you were stuck here. A dark, dirty realm that gave you its fair share of grief too. A lot in the span of two days, even. But, the good in it, was seeing the genuine smile that greeted you every time Alastor drank in your presence. Like this morning, when you agreed to join him on the patio, and the way his ears seemed to stand even taller when you said yes.

It was also the fact that Alastor was so intent on presenting this lovely gift to you, that he killed someone just so the rose would survive the chaos, that made you feel so warm and giddy inside.

A smile bloomed across your face, and you gently wrapped your fingers around the stem, right above Alastor’s own. The top of your hand grazed against the softer texture of the rose’s petals, but its sharp thorns nicked at the skin on your fingertips, causing you to grimace slightly. You adjusted your grip slowly, the pain ebbing as you found a comfortable hold.

Your hand brushed Alastor’s as he released his grip, pulling his hand towards him, his gaze traveling to your arm lifting as you inspected the rose closer. All the memories of long, forgotten experiences made years prick at your eyes.

“I.. don’t know what to say. This is so sweet of you,” you replied softly, eyes still locked on the rose and you gently caressed its petals, “thank you, Alastor.”

Alastor watched the emotion flood across your face, and for the first time, he didn’t know what to say next. The look on your features made him feel.. strange.

As if, this was a reaction nobody in Hell has ever given him before, excluding Charlie. It was fear and anger that only ever greeted him. Which he preferred, it made him feel strong, made him feel powerful.

Your soft, sweet smile, however, was something Alastor could get used to. The way the dimples on your cheeks deepened slightly as your lips curled delicately. As if you too were a rose, your petals softly opening for the new day.

His gaze still rested on you as the tip of your nose inched closer to the petals, before you inhaled a deep breath.

It smelled surprisingly sweet, but also with a warm, earthy scent. A hint of smokiness underneath the layer of the sugared aroma. It reminded you of a wood-burning stove, or the smell of firewood that clung to your shirt after a night in the wilderness.

But, also… the faint metallic tang of blood.

Brows furrowing, you pull the flower away, your eyes traveling to the barely visible glistening substance coating part of the stem. It almost mirrored the color of the dark-red petals, and you lifted your gaze to Alastor.

When your eyes traveled up his figure, it was the small trails of red liquid that dripped from his fingertips that made you recoil, a hand to your mouth as you gasped.

“Alastor, you’re bleeding!” The worry in your voice was obvious as you stepped closer to him, trying to get a better look at the small gashes on his skin. He regarded it with indifference, as if it was just a simple bother. You frowned at his reaction, there was no way that didn’t hurt!

He was a sinner, just like you, and almost everyone in the hotel. Mortality was still present in his afterlife, including the sensation of pain. No matter how hard he tried to present himself as a powerful being like Lucifer, he was still just a man who felt the same things you did. If not, with a little different... perspective.

“It is nothing, do not fret about me, my doe,” Alastor brushed off your words, beginning to pull his hand away from your view. You saw a drop of blood leave the tip of his claw, falling onto the cracks below your feet, “they are just feeble scratches, nothing I, the Radio Demon can’t handl–”

Alastor’s words died in his throat, the last of his sentence coming out in pure static as his pupils dilated on your hand wrapping around his wrist. Your grip was firm, preventing him from shielding the wounds from you, as you tugged his hand closer.

This was the boldest move you had made since the two of you had first met. It was usually Alastor who made the first gesture, who took your hand and touched you softly. As if you were a fragile doll that could crack at the teeniest bit of pressure.

The man was so used to control, having complete say in who touched him—which was never, unless you count Angel Dust whenever he tried riling up the demon—and why. If you were some normal face in the crowd making such a move, he’d probably have torn them apart.

But oh, the warmth from your touch that greeted his cool skin had him yearning for more. That blissful feeling that seemed to bloom from inside his bones, that traveled like a river through his veins, filling him up with a strange, yet awfully familiar feeling.

Like, when his mother would sit him down at the table for dinner, a bowl of hot, steaming Jambalaya in her hands that she made just for him. Anytime she noticed he had a hard day, she’d cook his favorite meal.

As a child, he had eagerly scarfed it down, impatient to fill his stomach with such a treat. When he grew older, however, he learned to slow down and savor the explosion of flavors that tickled his taste buds in every bite.

He remembered the way the delicacy traveled down his throat, and how it felt like a fire was igniting in his belly. The warmth emanating from your skin reminded him so much of that.

And that smile that always graced your features at the sight of him? Alastor remembered that from somewhere too. His mother’s lips always curved into a soft, gentle grin that would make anyone butter up in their presence.

Your lips seemed to curve just the same, and the demon was sure if the two of you would have met before the afterlife. His mother would have loved to meet you.

Alastor remained deathly silent, his muscles tense as you splayed out his claws, turning his hand over to have his palm face up. There was dried blood across the smooth skin, which meant he had been bleeding for a while now.

How hard was Alastor holding the rose during the fight that he cut up his hand like this? If it wasn’t for the bickering between him and Lucifer, you surely would have noticed it earlier.

Your fingers gently brushed against the small cuts, blood still slowly seeping from beneath the demon’s skin. You nudged his wound softly, inspecting it with worry.

“Does that hurt?” You asked softly with furrowed brows.

“Does it matter?” Alastor scoffed, averting your expectant gaze.

“Yes! It does, actually!” You retorted, before your gaze moved to your outfit with a determined look. Quickly, you reached down, taking a fistful of fabric in your grasp before pulling it hard. With some friction, it began to tear away from the rest of your garment.

Now, you had a large piece of cloth in one hand, and Alastor’s wrist in the other. Reaching forward, you began to cover his cuts tightly against the fabric.

“Must you ruin such a pretty outfit for something so insignificant like my hand?” Alastor inquired, exasperation lacing his voice, “You’re treating it like some kind of battle wound, I am fine, my doe.”

He didn’t pull away from you, however, as you finished patching up his injury. Inspecting his hand closer, you eyed work for a moment, before you shook your head, dissatisfied.

“I forbid you from doing any activities for the rest of today until you address your wounds,” you declared, crossing your arms sternly.

“Forbid?” He inquired, quirking a brow in amusement.

“That’s right! If you don’t take care of your injury, or let me do it for you, then I’ll have no choice but to put my foot down.”

Alastor squinted at you for a moment, that grin masking his thoughts as he regarded you. Was he going to argue? Sweat beaded on your forehead as you anticipated his answer. It wasn’t like you could exactly stop the powerful demon from doing what he wanted, but you also couldn't just let him strain his wound further because of pride.

Alastor didn’t argue. Instead, he simply shrugged, a pleased smile gracing his features. He closed his eyes thoughtfully, before holding a limp hand towards you.

“Well, if you insist,” he hummed, cracking one eye open to watch you expectantly.

“Really..?” You asked in disbelief, regarding his hand with suspicion.

“If the lady wishes to fuss over my health, I suppose I could heed her demands,” Alastor responded casually, lifting his hand closer towards you, “and, how could I refuse such a generous offer?”

You smiled playfully before slowly wrapping your fingers around the makeshift gauze, trying to get a good grip around his cuts as you held his hand.

“Is there somewhere I could get medical aid inside? Baindaids, alcohol solution… ibuprofen?”

Did Ibuprofen even exist down here? There had to be something similar at least, the Pride Ring was full of mortals that could still feel pain. Was Alastor in a lot of pain? Even if he was, you probably wouldn't get a straight answer from him.

Now, you understood why Alastor and Lucifer didn’t like each other. They were just fighting for who was really the embodiment of pride.

“Hm..” Alastor tilted his head in thought, before his ears twitched, and a sly smile graced his lips, “I do believe I know just the place!”

Without a word, he returned your grip and pulled you closer to him. Your breath hitched, your chest almost bumping against Alastor’s as he took your other hand. The two of you looked as if you were about to start a waltz, as the demon looked out towards the railing, his chest still facing yours as his smile grew.

“Hang on tight, my dear!” He stated chipperly, and you fastened your grip hastily. The air began to crackle with energy, goosebumps rippling across your skin as static seemed to tickle at your figure. Green smoke pooled at your feet, and that familiar tingling sensation overtook you, just like the first time you were teleported.

Alastor only pulled you closer right as the smoke blasted up, cold air hitting your face as you were pulled into darkness. The presence of the hand against yours was faint, but at least you weren't alone this time. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, your heart racing as you waited to feel the floor against your feet once more. Then, you felt a thumb brush softly against your knuckles, it circled soothingly across your skin, and you relaxed slightly.

What felt like minutes really only took a couple of seconds, as you felt soft lighting hit your eyelids, and Alastor stir beside you. His hand didn’t leave yours, as he waited for you to join reality.

“Not so bad, hm?” He prodded you slightly, beckoning you back into reality.

Letting your pupils adjust to the light, the familiar wallpaper from the hotel corridor met your vision. Did he really just materialize the two of you across the building? You didn't have any problem walking, but perhaps Alastor was trying to avoid the small crowd that would have met them at the bottom of the patio stairs.

“I feel kind of queasy,” you responded, shaking your head of the fog in the back of your mind.

“After a few times through, it won’t bother you anymore,” Alastor assured.

Trying to get a better estimate of your location, you turned your head to one side of the hall, taking in the sight of a dark, oak door. The familiar numbering made you quirk a brow, tilting your head towards the smiling demon. He met your gaze, a soft, lipped smile on his face.

“We’re going in my room?”

“Not quite..” he hummed, gripping your shoulders and pivoting you to the opposite side. Your eyes widened, gaze locked onto the matching door of Alastor’s room.

You stayed silent, feet frozen in place as you watched him take a few steps, his good hand wrapping around the spherical doorhandle. Slowly, he twisted the knob until it clicked softly. The hinges creaked with age, and the hallway lights began to spill into the darkened room as the crack in the doorway widened.

You couldn’t see anything through the slightly opened entryway, but your heart quickened as the second passed by. Your eyes flicked up to Alastor, who regarded you curiously, his gaze gentle as your nerves began to display on your face.

“Ladies first!” He beamed, his smile an assurance to your heated skin.

He obviously wanted you to go inside, and part of your brain was nudging you forward with excitement. Alastor was inviting you into his quarters, he was allowing you to take a step inside his world, to get to know him!

The other part whispered hesitation. What lay behind that door? Surely, more than just medical supplies.

It was as if you wrapped a sheet around the reluctance that was beginning to plague your mind, stuffing it underneath the floorboards of your brain. You weren't going to let your flustered mind get the better of you, and have you miss such an opportunity to get closer to the charming demon.

Exhaling a quiet breath, you banished your nerves into the air. Straightening your back, you sent Alastor a warm smile and took a step forward.

wingman!lucifer anybody? ✋

let me know what you think! ☺️ comments and reblogs are appreciated!

tags 🏷️

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#hazbin hotel #hellaverse #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader

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sweetblinginrose · 5 months

Text

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖗,

(OS Eddie Munson x fem!reader geek)

summary: Rival Dungeons and Dragons reader who has a tournament and ends up without clothes. Oops…

word count: 6,6k +

warnings: obv +18, rivalry, unprotected sex, asphyxiation, bad language, cumming inside, female masturbation, culilingus.

a/n: hey lol, i wrote this half asleep so idk how it turned out, i'll see if it's any good or not later, so if there is something wrongly translated or that you don't find makes sense, pls let me know, hugs!

oh and don't copy my idea, it's my own huh 🦄

masterlist

part 2 !!

━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━

The Sith Order.

All the members of the Hellfire Club and your group, The Sith Order, maintained a cordial and mutually respectful relationship, with the exception of the tense rivalry between you and the opposing leader, the insufferable Eddie. You hated him so much, especially now that you had bet your grand dice, which your brother had given you as a gift.

The abandoned cabin loomed like a shadow among the trees of the forest, a forgotten refuge that now housed your group of friends and your imaginary adventures. Inside, the air was filled with a smell of dampness and earth, a constant reminder of nature reclaiming its space. The once cozy and lived-in furniture was now covered in a layer of dust and cobwebs that wove complex patterns in every corner.

The sofa, your throne, was worn out, with upholstery torn in several places, revealing the crumbling yellowed foam at the touch. Dark stains of time adorned the fabric, and every time you moved, a cloud of dust rose like a sigh from the cabin itself. Sitting there, on your stomach, with a furrowed brow and crossed arms, you couldn't help but feel the rough and cold texture of the sofa against your skin, a reminder of your recent defeat in the game.

Around you, the tables wobbled on uneven legs, their surfaces scratched and marked with circles from past glasses. The faded and torn curtains hung sadly from the windows, allowing dim light to filter in and illuminate the dust particles in the air. The floor creaked under the weight of footsteps, and each floorboard seemed to tell a story of abandonment.

In this space, time seemed to have stopped, and every object told the story of a better past now eclipsed by neglect and desolation.

You felt as if a storm was brewing inside you, a mixture of frustration and challenge that consumed you as you sat on the sofa. The defeat in the friendly game was a thorn in your pride, a small battle lost in a war that seemed to extend beyond the game of dragons and dungeons. The rivalry with the Hellfire Club and its leader, Eddie, was the real dragon to be defeated, and every thought of him fueled the flames of your resentment.

Eddie, with his arrogant smile and his ability to bring out the best in his players, had become the antagonist not only in the game, but in your mind and life. You imagined him, with his tousled hair and carefree attitude, as the perfect villain for your campaign, one who seemed to enjoy every time his group came out victorious. The idea that he might consider your defeat as a point in his favor was unbearable.

While your friends continued with the campaign, laughing, stressed, focused, and rolling dice, you immersed yourself in your thoughts, planning your next move. It was not just a matter of winning a game; it was a matter of honor, of proving that your group could overcome any challenge, even the infamous Hellfire Club. Determination began to replace frustration, and although you still felt the bitterness of defeat, there was now a new goal on the horizon: to defeat Eddie and prove that your group was the best in the fantasy game.

But... were you really prepared for tonight?

...

Eddie, with a sly smile and a spark of malice in his eyes, steps forward to greet you in the lair of the Hellfire Club, the basement of the institute, the setting of countless campaigns and now the battlefield of your latest challenge. As the girls from your club gather in the space, filled with detailed maps and meticulously painted character figures, Eddie focuses on you, his most formidable rival.

"Welcome, oh great 'Mialee!'" he exclaims with an exaggeratedly theatrical and ironic tone, making a reference to the elven mage character to underline his mockery. "I hope your spells are as sharp as your tongue this time, and that your strategies are less predictable than your expressions of defeat."

You can feel the gaze of the others on you, some with complicit smiles and others with cautious curiosity. Eddie continues, not missing the opportunity to poke at your pride: "I hope you brought your Dragon Crystal Die, because something tells me you're going to need all the luck you can get."

The lair resonates with the stifled laughter of the club members, and although you know that Eddie's words are part of the rivalry game, you also feel that each joke is a challenge to your skill and determination. With a firm gaze and unwavering resolve, you prepare to show that this battle will be different, that this time, Eddie will be the one left speechless at the end of the night.

"You are living proof that not everything that glitters in a treasure is gold, and in your case, it's not even copper," you say, challenging him as you look him in the eyes. With a confidence that resonates in every word, you confront Eddie, your eyes shining with the reflection of the candles that illuminate the basement. "I hope you haven't forgotten your part of the bet, Eddie," you say with a firm and clear voice that cuts through the tension in the room. "That Orb of Entwined Destinies you so proudly show off will be mine before the moon reaches its zenith."

The Orb of Entwined Destinies was a perfect sphere of dark crystal, with a core that seemed to contain a miniature nebula, ever-changing and slowly rotating. It was more than just an object for Eddie; it was a symbol of his ability to manipulate probabilities and destiny within the game.

The mention of the orb makes Eddie's smile falter for a moment, a crack in his facade of confidence. You know you have hit a sensitive point, reminding him that you are not the only one with something valuable at stake. "Get ready, Eddie," you continue, "because when I'm done with you and the Hellfire Club, that orb will be the trophy of The Sith Order, and your luck will change forever," you spit, leaving the boys dumbfounded, unlike his group of friends, as they were used to this kind of speech.

Lucas, with a carefree smile and a tone bordering on disbelief, tries to lighten the atmosphere that has built up in the room. "Come on, guys, don't you realize? It's just a dumb bet, right? There's no need to turn this into an epic battle or something..." he comments, his voice a thread of sanity in the tapestry of rivalry unfolding before him.

However, his attempt to lighten the mood is quickly quashed by a severe look from both leaders, who in a rare moment of unity gesture to him with a stern gesture and an almost synchronized "Shh!" The seriousness of their bet is not something they are willing to downplay, even with Lucas' playful interjection.

The battle between The Sith Order and the Hellfire Club unfolds in a fantasy world woven with the magic of dragons and dungeons, but the tension is as real as the beating hearts of the players. The room, illuminated by the flickering light of the candles, has transformed into an epic battlefield where each roll of the dice resonates like the clash of swords.

The Sith Order bravely faces the challenges posed by Eddie and his Hellfire Club. The dice roll on the table like distant thunder, dictating the fate of heroes and villains alike. You, The Sith Order, with characters ranging from cunning rogues to powerful sorceresses, maneuver through traps and puzzles that Eddie has crafted with malicious skill. The battle intensifies, with each strategic move and each spell cast adding layers to the unfolding narrative. Your characters fight hordes of infernal creatures, cross dark abysses, and decipher ancient codices to unravel the secrets that will lead them to victory.

As the night progresses, a tie seems imminent. The Hellfire Club has countered every attack, every plan, with a precision bordering on the supernatural. But you, with your leading character, are not willing to give up. With a mix of cunning and a bit of luck, you roll the dice for one last masterful play. Silence fills the room as the dice roll, dancing on the edge of the abyss between victory and defeat. Finally, they settle, and the numbers they show are the harbinger of a tide change. Your play has been successful, overcoming the defenses of the Hellfire Club and securing an unexpected triumph.

Eddie, with a look of genuine astonishment, acknowledges the victory of The Sith Order, albeit reluctantly. You, with a smile of satisfaction, accept the Orb of Entwined Destinies, now rightfully yours.

Amidst the euphoria of victory, one of the girls from your group, with a contagious smile and an overflowing energy, suggests an idea that captures everyone's attention. "How about we celebrate with some pizzas? It would be great to relax and enjoy the moment," she says enthusiastically.

The idea is met with a mix of nods and smiles. It is a comfortable and familiar proposition, a perfect way to lower the intensity of the night and simply enjoy each other's company. Everyone, except you and Eddie, seems to agree. The tension of the battle still clings to you, and the idea of sharing a table with Eddie and his club, even in a neutral and friendly environment, is something that you find hard to accept, just like Eddie.

However, aware that rejecting the offer could be seen as poor sportsmanship, both of you reluctantly agree with a gesture of resignation. "Fine, but only because I'm hungry," you murmur, trying to hide your reluctance behind a practical excuse. Eddie nods silently, his serious expression revealing his reluctant agreement.

And so, with victory still fresh and emotions running high, the group sets off to share a meal that promises to be as full of flavor as it is of interesting dynamics.

The night has slipped into a soft twilight when everyone, now relieved of the tension of the game, finds themselves in Eddie's van. The space is filled with laughter and the sound of bottles clinking together. "Cheers!" the group shouts for the sixth time, raising their beers in the air in a toast that has become a ritual.

Eddie's van, with its worn seats, stickers, dirt, and windows displaying the world passing by at high speed, has become a temporary sanctuary of camaraderie. With each new "Cheers!", the barriers between The Sith Order and the Hellfire Club seem to dissolve a little more, erased by the alcohol and the shared joy. Or so it seems...

Eddie's van snakes along the road, a lonely path flanked by the silhouette of trees gently swaying under the starry sky. In the front seats, silence between Eddie and you is a marked contrast to the bustle that reigns in the back, where the rest of the group sings enthusiastically game anthems, interspersed with laughter and the sound of opening beers.

You, with crossed legs and a beer can resting in your hands, get lost in contemplation of the nature that unfolds before your eyes. The moonlight bathes the landscape, transforming each tree and bush into dancing shadows that play hide and seek with each turn of the road.

Eddie, with his attention focused on the road, drives with a slowness that seems to respect the shared silence. His profile stands out against the occasional glow of distant street lamps, and although you are together in the cabin, an abyss of unspoken words stretches between you.

"Hey..." Eddie's voice breaks the silence, a word hanging in the air that seems to wait for permission to continue. He does not look away from the road, as if fearing that a moment of distraction could reveal more than he intends.

You turn your head towards him, an eyebrow arched in a mixture of surprise and curiosity. It is strange, this attempt at conversation. Outside the game, words between you have been as scarce as leaves in winter. You have never crossed more than strategies and challenges, and now, this attempt at dialogue seems as out of place as a barbarian in a library.

The tension between you is palpable, a taut thread that is woven with each kilometer the van devours. What words will follow that "hey"? Will it be an attempt at a truce, or perhaps the prelude to another challenge? Time seems to stand still as you wait for Eddie to continue, and in that moment, the van is not just a moving vehicle, but a space where two rivals might, just maybe, begin to see each other as something more.

"No... no, nothing. Forget it..." he murmurs softly, not taking his eyes off the road, but now looking more tense, sighing.

You decide not to insist, but this time not averting your gaze from those long locks, but discreetly examining them for some kind of response.

Eddie's van glides to a smooth stop in front of a caravan. As he turns off the engine, Eddie's expression transforms. The seriousness that marked his face during the journey gives way to a genuine smile, an open invitation to continue the night in a space that is as much a part of him as the game they both love. "Come on, guys! The party continues at my place!" he exclaims with enthusiasm, his voice resonating with the promise of more laughter and memories to be created. "We can drink as much as we want, and if anyone's interested, there's weed too. My uncle works nights, so we have the place to ourselves."

Friends and friends respond with a chorus of approval, their stumbling steps and complicit smiles sealing the tacit agreement to extend the celebration. One by one, they enter the caravan, a cozy space illuminated by dim lights and adorned with mementos from trips and caps. A bit messy, but cozy.

You, with a mix of caution and curiosity, are the last to cross the threshold. Your eyes meet Eddie's, and for a moment, the outside world fades away. Eddie closes the door behind you, a simple gesture but loaded with meaning. You stand there, still, remembering the unfinished conversation, the words that Eddie left hanging in the air.

Feeling the weight of the night and the looks charged with unanswered questions, you decide to join the group that has settled in the caravan. You grab a few more beers, your hand brushing against the cold surface of the can, and sit at one end of the narrow sofa from where you can observe the scene. Eddie, on the other hand, seems different tonight. The usual arrogance that characterizes him has given way to an unusual stillness, almost reflective. Was defeat the cause of this change? Or was there something deeper behind his silence?

With each passing minute, glances between you meet like swords in a silent duel, full of questions that neither of you dares to voice aloud. After an hour of this game of looks, you feel the need to escape, if only for a moment, from the intensity of the atmosphere.

"Where is the bathroom?" you ask, your voice strangely formal in the relaxed atmosphere. Eddie points to a small hallway at the back, and you get up, navigating the space filled with laughter and conversations until you reach the bathroom.

Inside, you find yourself facing the mirror, your reflection returning an image of someone who seems to be on the border between two worlds. You wet the back of your neck, not wanting to ruin your makeup, and step out, feeling refreshed but still restless.

As you pass through the narrow exit of the bathroom, you collide with the partially open door of Eddie's room, and curiosity gets the better of you. You discreetly peek inside, your eyes scanning the space that is so intimately his. The room is adorned with posters of rock bands, metal, clothes everywhere, magazines scattered on the floor, and action figures of fantasy heroes, a mix of passions that reveal facets of Eddie that you had never considered. On the bed lies an open diary with scribbles and handwritten notes.

Eddie, with his carefree smile, leans against the doorframe, watching you with curiosity as you try to process the mess. "What are you doing here?" he repeats, his voice gentle but clearly amused by your confused expression. The scent of marijuana is evident, and his eyes, although red, gleam with a mischievous spark. He seems not to mind in the least your presence in his personal sanctuary. You feel like an intruder in an unknown world, every object in the room telling a story that only Eddie knows. However, he, with that calm bordering on indifference, gestures for you to enter. "Come, I'll show you my collection," he says casually, and suddenly, the place transforms. What was chaos before now seems like an art gallery, each hanging T-shirt, each vinyl, and each magazine clipping is a piece of his identity. He guides you through his space, narrating anecdotes of concerts and trips, his voice a thread weaving a tapestry of lived experiences.

The initial embarrassment fades away, replaced by fascination at discovering the depth of Eddie's personality. And as he shares his world with you, the messy room becomes a map of his personal universe, a place that, despite the disorder, now makes sense.

As you survey the room with your gaze, something catches your attention and takes your breath away: a proudly displayed B.C. Rich guitar hanging on the wall.

It is a red and shiny beauty, with its aggressive shapes and air of mystery, a piece that any metal lover would desire. Your heart beats with excitement, not only because of the surprise of finding such a treasure in Eddie's room, but because metal is your passion, one of the many things you have in common with Eddie without even knowing it, a detail he is unaware of.

He notices your excitement and, with a mischievous smile, takes down the guitar and hands it to you. "It's all yours, at least for now," he says with a wink. You hold it in your hands with reverence, feeling the weight of the wood and the coldness of the metal.

With shyness but moved by the emotion, you ask Eddie to play something. He shrugs, regretting the lack of an amplifier, but he is not discouraged. With a mischievous smile, he starts "playing" the guitar silently, mimicking the sounds with his mouth. It's a parody, but there is something about his attitude that invites you to play along.

"Come on, guess which song this is," he challenges you, as he moves his fingers in the air and imaginary sounds of a song fill the room. You concentrate, trying to follow the rhythm and melody that Eddie creates. The silent notes seem to come to life, and suddenly, you recognize it. It's 'Time Is Right' by Whitesnake.

Laughter fills the room as you guess it, and Eddie nods approvingly. "I knew you were one of mine, babe," he says, and in that moment, the guitar is not just an instrument, but a bridge between two souls who share a hidden passion for metal and many other things.

A blush creeps up your cheeks, an unexpected warmth that takes you by surprise. The word "babe" resonates in your ears, a term so casual and yet, loaded with an intimacy you did not expect. It feels as if you are inside the pages of one of those erotic books your mother used to read in secret, where the protagonists, initially at odds, end up wrapped in a story of love and rough sex.

Eddie's gaze has become more intense, his eyes no longer just reflecting the reddish glow of a pot smoker, but also a different glow, deeper, provoked by your presence. There is something about the way he looks at you that makes you feel like you are the only person in the world at that moment, but at the same time, as if he is undressing you.

You find yourself returning his gaze, unable to look away from his eyes. There is a connection, an unspoken understanding that seems to transcend words. And while a part of you wants to laugh at the situation, at how absurd it is to feel like a character in a pornographic novel, you cannot deny the electricity in the air, that spicy tension that hangs between the two of you.

Eddie takes a step towards you, his proximity overwhelming, and although he does not say anything more, he doesn't need to. Words are unnecessary when the looks speak for themselves. And in that instant, in that messy room that smells of marijuana and freedom, you understand that sometimes, real life can be as surprising and exciting as the stories hidden within the pages of a book.

After that moment, the room seems smaller, as if the walls had closed in to witness the silence shared between you. You decide to break the tension with a nervous smile and a change of subject. "Hey... what did you want to ask me before, you know, in the van?" you ask, stuttering slightly as you feel Eddie's scent filling your nostrils.

Eddie leaned against the threshold of the door, just inches away, watching your lips adorned with an intense crimson and your lined eyes attentively. "Ah, that..." he wondered, feigning forgetfulness. "I think I wanted to say something about Dungeons and Dragons, right?" he inquired with irony, biting his lip as he laughed and crossed his arms.

None of this compared to the fantasies you had with Eddie. Let's admit it, you had imagined countless similar scenarios, all related to the game and its protagonist, Eddie. You had wished for him to touch you in the same way he caresses his guitar. You wanted to be that fucking guitar.

"I don't think I want to talk about that right now..." you whispered, slowly moving closer to Eddie, who raised an eyebrow and smiled widely, catching your hint.

"Well then, if you don't want to listen to me, why don't you shut me up?" he whispered near your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. He grabbed your belt, holding your short denim skirt, forcing you to be pressed against him. "I said, why don't you shut me up..."

Eddie played dirty even outside of his character. He wanted you to take the initiative, perhaps to mock you or further feed his ego, but you wouldn't allow that to happen. With confidence, you ran your tongue over your lips and approached his neck, whispering, "I don't plan on silencing you. I enjoy listening to you and narrating each campaign..." This excited him, caressing your shoulder and getting closer, causing your breasts to press against him, eliciting a reaction in his groin. "Then, shut me up. I know you've wanted to since you met me," you whispered, trying to provoke him, with some success.

He responded by pushing you against the wall, trapping you between it and his body, placing his thigh between yours and gripping your waist tightly, feeling the coldness of his rings against your bare skin. "What I've wanted since I met you is to fuck you on the Harken map, so that your screams scare away the undead lurking there..." he muttered with a deep voice, softly kissing your collarbone, causing a sigh to escape your lips. With captivating slowness, Eddie guides his lips to yours, each movement deliberate and filled with anticipation. When they finally meet, the kiss is like an explosion of fire, burning and passionate. His lips sink into yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless, and his tongue boldly slides in to explore every corner of your mouth from the very first moment.

As your lips entwine in a sensual dance, his hands find your breasts with a firmness that surprises and excites you at the same time. The pressure of his hands cupping your breasts sends a wave of pleasure through your body, making you involuntarily shudder at the intense and unfamiliar sensation. You never expected this reaction, but you find yourself completely captivated by the desire that Eddie awakens in you, leaving you craving more of his passionate touch.

Eddie suddenly stops, his fingers noticing the absence of the bra he expected to find. A mischievous spark shines in his eyes as he looks at you with a mixture of surprise and desire. With a naughty smile on his lips, he whispers in your ear in a seductive tone, "Wow, looks like the girl comes with nothing...," murmuring with a hoarse voice, his warm breath sending shivers down your naked skin. His comment, though bold, is imbued with an irresistible sensuality that makes you blush and feel even more drawn to him. It feels like you're in a scene taken straight from one of those forbidden novels your mother used to find in the library, but this time, you're the protagonist, enveloped in the heat of shared desire with Eddie.

With expert dexterity, Eddie deepens the kiss, intensifying each brush of his lips against yours. As his tongue explores yours with unrestrained passion, his thigh slides and exerts pressure between yours, finding its way under your denim skirt, lifting it almost completely, hitting just that sensitive spot that makes your whole body react instantly.

"Mhmmm..." an involuntary moan escapes your lips as you feel the perfectly placed pressure of his thigh against you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You feel the need to ride that leg. You were very wet at that moment, so the touch was making you even wetter.

He moves it with precision between yours, creating a delicious friction that awakens sensations that make you gasp against his lips. Each movement is calculated, designed to provoke maximum pleasure, as his thigh finds that sensitive spot on your body, sending waves of excitement through you.

"You've got me so hard..." with a throaty whisper, he makes you aware of the effect you have on him, sending a thrill of excitement down your spine. His warm breath against your lips only increases the intensity of the moment. You feel your heart pounding hard as you let yourself be carried away by the passion swirling around you. Then, with seductive skill, he leans slightly down, his strong hands gripping the bottom of your thighs to open you up and wrap around his waist. The change in position allows his bulge to press directly against your underwear, which is exposed by the previous lifting of your skirt. A wave of desire surges through your being as you feel his prominence brushing directly against your sensitive and swollen clit, sending sparks of pleasure that seem to electrify every fiber of your being.

The movements of his hips are precise and deliberate, each delicious brush torturous while engulfing you deeper into the abyss of pleasure. The sounds of your ragged breathing blend with the seductive whispers and soft moans escaping between hot kisses. You are completely at the mercy of the passion Eddie unleashes in you, lost in the whirlwind of overwhelming sensations that threaten to consume you completely.

The barely contained moan escapes your lips between kisses as you feel Eddie's gentle hip movement, a movement that sends you soaring to the heights of pleasure. Still with your thighs tightly wrapped around his hips, you give in to a wild and passionate kiss, with an intensity that defies any limit.

The kiss becomes a whirlwind of unabated passion, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as you let yourself be carried away by the overwhelming sensations. Amidst the heat of the moment, you feel Eddie release one of your legs, changing the dynamics of the position and making you feel his bulge even more. Now, in this new position, the contact with his clothed cock is even more evident, causing you to instinctively arch your hips towards him, seeking more contact, more friction. You feel his hands grip your buttocks firmly, aggressively pressing you against his jeans, as if he is eager to feel you even closer.

The brushes and hip movements become increasingly intense, a symphony of pleasure that seems to have no end. You are completely immersed in the moment.

"Mmhm... fuck..." Between moans escaping your lips, accompanied by the sensual movements of your hips, Eddie suddenly stops, only to turn off the bedroom light and then guides you, still with your body on top of his, to his disheveled bed. He places you on your back on the tousled sheets, and positions himself above you, burning desire reflected in his gaze as he begins to explore your neck with hot kisses and licks. Each touch of his tongue against your skin awakens an electric sensation that makes you tremble with pleasure. His expert hands play with your nipples from inside your top, squeezing and teasing them while his thighs continue to exert delicious pressure on your intimate area, making you gasp with each movement, holding onto his back.

Slowly, your rival moves down your body with controlled impatience, licking and kissing your abdomen eagerly before quickly lifting your top and leaving you exposed before him. His lips find your breasts, and he kisses and licks them with devotion, as if they are the most delicious thing he has ever tasted. His long hair sometimes gets tangled in his face, but when you start gently tugging on it for pleasure, he moves away, leaving behind an incredibly enticing scene that makes you arch your hips forward instinctively.

While Eddie continues to lavish attention on your breasts, his hands begin to explore above your underwear with his ring finger, stroking gently from top to bottom. "Do you like it like this?" he asks between kisses and licks, asking you with a husky voice if you're enjoying yourself, establishing an intimate and desire-filled dialogue that only increases the sexual tension between you. "Or is it better like this?" he increases the speed of his touch.

Your silence prompts Eddie to grab your chin firmly, his fingers exerting a dominant and sexual pressure as he forces you to look into his eyes. When you finally respond to his question with an intense gaze, he slowly releases you, going back down to give attention to your body. His lips find your panties, and he kisses and licks them eagerly, soaking them with his saliva mixed with your own excited wetness.

With precise and deliberate movements, Eddie slowly pulls down your panties, placing soft kisses on your inner thigh as he slides them down your legs. Once he has removed your panties, his eyes meet your exposed, naked, and wet pussy, and he can't help but feel his cock throbbing with an unprecedented intensity, eager to satisfy the burning desire between them. You feel incredibly exposed under his heated gaze, but Eddie sees you as a work of art, a sight that excites him to the limit. Without wasting time, Eddie gives you a generic lick to your wet pussy, spreading your lips with his fingers to access your exposed clit directly. An overwhelming moan escapes your lips at the wave of pleasure that courses through your body, but Eddie quickly covers your mouth, whispering that you can't moan to avoid being heard in the common area where the others are.

With a mischievous smile on his face, Eddie realizes that the loud music has concealed any sound that would have revealed their activities in the bedroom. With your mouth still covered, he delves into the task with renewed eagerness, licking and sucking your clit with an intensity that makes your body arch in response. Each suck and each lick sends waves of pleasure through you, taking you to the edge of ecstasy over and over again. Your hips move instinctively in response to the overwhelming pleasure, but Eddie firmly controls them, maintaining a rhythm that takes you closer and closer to the precipice of pleasure. With an expert hand, he begins caressing your abdomen, slowly descending until reaching your clit, parting his mouth for a moment to touch it with his fingers before inserting two of them without any prior preparation.

The sudden stimulus causes your eyes to roll back, and your thighs tighten with force from the pleasure that overwhelms you, arching your back and moving your hips towards the direction of the long-haired person. In a short time, Eddie goes back to action, losing himself between your thighs as he continues moving his fingers with unwavering determination.

He continues like this for a few minutes, not stopping for a moment, until you feel that you're about to reach climax. You grab his hair with incredible strength, almost burying your fingers in its roots, urging him to continue, feeling like you're about to burst in his mouth. But just as you're on the edge of orgasm, he pulls away from you, leaving a thread of saliva mixed with your wetness as a separation between his mouth and your pussy, leaving you in a state of uncontrollable anticipation and desire.

Eddie, eager to satisfy his burning desire, hastily fumbles with his zipper and unleashes his erect cock, ready for action. Eddie's cock, although of average size, has a peculiarity that sets it apart: a curved shape that gives it a unique and distinctive appearance. Its thickness is notable, and the veins that run along its length add texture to its look. The skin that covers it has a pink tone, with a reddish hue indicating the excitement that engulfs it. A slightly glistening liquid adorns its tip. It is an image that reflects virility and desire, a promise of intense pleasure about to be unleashed.

"How does this look, huh?" he moves it, noticeably sensitive, gently rubbing it against your clit, giving you a mischievous look as if he's playing a game with you. Without warning, after lightly masturbating it, he quickly and decisively inserts it into you, completely surprising you and leaving you breathless. "Mhmmm..." he sighs deeply, as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, arching his head backward. From the very first second, he begins to thrust into you with a dizzying rhythm, penetrating you deeply over and over again. You are overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure that engulfs you, unable to articulate a single word as you completely surrender to the wild thrusts of the guy. Each thrust hits your insides with overpowering force, sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

Despite the initial discomfort from the lack of preparation, you find yourself immersed in a whirlwind of sensations that make you lose track of time and space.

You writhe under him, unable to hold back the moans that escape your lips as you completely surrender to the frenzied pleasure that consumes you. Although it hurts, you can't help but enjoy every thrust, every touch of his skin against yours ignites a burning fire inside you.

He grabs you by the neck with a firm but dominant hand, stopping any sound that could escape your lips. His warm breath brushes against your ear as he whispers with a husky and authoritative voice, "Shut up." The words, loaded with desire and determination, send a shiver down your spine, leaving you breathless and obedient to his command. You are completely surrendered to him, unable to do anything but obey his orders as you let yourself be carried away by the frenzied passion that burns between you. The orgasm that you had almost experienced less than a minute ago begins to resonate through your body again, but the intensity of Eddie's thrusts makes you feel like you're on the verge of a great climax. You are completely overwhelmed by the avalanche of sensations that envelop you, unable to resist the tide of pleasure that drags you into an endless abyss of ecstasy. Your increasingly intense and uncontrolled moans blend with the background music, creating a symphony of pleasure and ecstasy that fills the room. Eddie, releasing his hand from your neck, begins to hit your thigh and butt with a mixture of desire and unbridled passion. As he continues to thrust into you with force, his lascivious words fill the air, whispering in your ear with a deep and seductive voice.

He tells you how much he has wanted to fuck that pussy of yours, expressing his most intimate desires with an exciting crudeness that makes you shiver with pleasure. He calls you a slut with a tone of desire and adoration, celebrating your sexuality and the way you grip his cock with every thrust. Those words, charged with lust and desire, only increase the intensity of the moment, pushing you closer to climax with each word that comes out of his mouth.

You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge, every thrust of Eddie sending waves of pleasure through your body. He perceives it too, thanks to the way your pussy grips his cock, and he lets out a guttural grunt of satisfaction. You're on the edge of the abyss, about to let the ecstasy completely envelop you, while Eddie's lascivious moans and words push you towards the most glorious climax you've ever experienced

You feel the ecstasy completely enveloping you, a overwhelming wave of pleasure that shakes you to your core. Your walls contract tightly around Eddie's cock, squeezing with an intensity that makes him moan with pleasure. "Damn, you're so tight..."

Your body trembles uncontrollably, your eyes rolling back in your head as a guttural groan escapes from your lips, louder and more heartbreaking than ever before.

However, before you can fully recover from your orgasm, Eddie aggressively grabs you by the throat again, his expression a wild mix of concentration, excitement, and a hint of anger. With notable abruptness, he continues fucking with a renewed ferocity, as if taking revenge for something, but this time he has absolute control. The sensation of being taken with such force awakens a wild fire inside you, a overflowing passion that mixes with pain and pleasure in a symphony of indescribable sensations. You are completely immersed in the erotic game between you and Eddie, each thrust taking you further into the abyss of shared desire.

Thegame is now tied, each one taking the lead at different moments. You feel Eddie moaning with an unusual intensity, sensing that he's about to reach climax. You want to warn him not to come inside, but your throat is blocked by Eddie's firm hand, keeping you from articulating any words. A slight shiver runs through his body when he perceives your attempt to communicate your desire, but it's too late.

With a few final shaky thrusts, Eddie gives in to the avalanche of pleasure, releasing his hot and trembling liquid inside you. You accept his release without reserve, watching Eddie's expression as he does so. His face shows an unusual vulnerability, with arched eyebrows and a lost look somewhere in the room. His slightly parted lips release his moans of pleasure, and his hands grip your hips tightly, as if clinging to you for support.

After Eddie releases his liquid inside you, he slowly retreats and lies down by your side. Both of you remain staring at the ceiling, and suddenly, a nervous and uncontrollable laughter overwhelms you. Eddie looks at you strangely and asks what's happening. Between laughs, you respond that you just imagined that all of this was one of his campaigns, a kind of joke or experiment designed to test your limits and reactions. The surprise on Eddie's face turns into a knowing smile when he realizes that you have disarmed the tension of the moment with your humorous comment. Both of you give in to laughter, releasing the accumulated tension and sharing a moment of complicity after the unrestrained passion you just experienced together. It's an unexpected and light ending to an intimate and passionate encounter.

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subterraneanna · 1 year

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I've been scanning and restoring some pieces of original Star Trek: TOS film and wanted to share this before and after from a deleted scene in the episode "Elaan of Troyius":

At nearly 60 years old, the film is in bad shape, exhibiting substantial scratches and color shifting. The magenta/red tint is a good example of dye fading, a sign of deterioration likely due to the film stock it was shot on.

Prior to 1950, color motion picture film was shot in Technicolor, which required a large, cumbersome camera to simultaneously expose 3 separate strips of negative film that then underwent a proprietary dye imbibition process to create a full color image. Though visually stunning and remarkably color-stable, it was a complicated, expensive process reserved only for high budget productions. In 1950, Eastman Kodak introduced Eastmancolor, the first 35 mm “single-strip” color motion picture negative -- in short, a film that was easy to shoot and process, and compared to Technicolor, only used a 1/3 of the film stock. Suddenly color film was an affordable option for studios and its popularity took off. Eastmancolor was composed of a single strip of negative film surfaced with 3 layers of light-sensitive gelatin emulsion. During development, a chemical reaction produced magenta, yellow, and cyan dyes on their corresponding layers, which were superimposed to create a full color image. Unfortunately, these dyes were unstable, something that wasn't apparent until aging films began to lose their color in the following years.

The Star Trek image above is pink because its yellow and cyan dyes have faded away, leaving just the magenta layer. The information may be lost, but digital restoration can improve what's left. But because the yellow and cyan greatly contributed to the overall density of the image, basic color balancing still produces a lower contrast version compared to what the original must have looked like. The missing richness and depth seems most apparent in the skin tones, but hand painting some of the color can bring a little life back to it, as I've done here. It's a challenge because, as far as I can tell, the only remaining footage or still shots of this scene show some level of dye fading. Fortunately, now that the film is digitized, restoration can be an ongoing project. If you own any color motion picture film negatives or prints, the sooner you get them scanned the better. In the meantime, helpful storage information can be found here.

It's been a while since I've shot any film (film major), so it's nice to see it again, even if it's chopped up into single frames. I have a small collection of them so I'll post more restored images as they're completed. BTW @cheer-deforest-kelley has a great post on how this film went from the editing room floor to the hands of fans.

#star trek #star trek the original series #tos #leonard mccoy #deforest kelley #nyota uhura #nichelle nichols #elaan of troyius #film preservation #film restoration #35mm film

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authorhjk1 · 2 months

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Decisions, decisions, decisions…its so hard to choose which one for Sooyoung lol, I leave this in your hands dear writer-nim.

https://kpopping.com/documents/79/3/2000/Choi-Sooyoung-for-LEGEND-Magazine-November-2022-Issue-documents-11.jpeg?v=9cf9e

https://kpopping.com/documents/6e/5/3024/220808-SNSD-Twitter-Update-Sooyoung-documents-2.jpeg?v=3942e

Black Leather

(Choi Sooyoung X Male Reader)

You were surprised. It wasn't shocking, but it was certainly unexpected.

Six months ago you fired one of your employees. A great, nice guy. He was great to work with. But he was just not good at working. And while your business started to thrive, there was always one factor that hindered it from reaching it's full potential. Him.

That's why you eventually had to let him go. And that's why his wife showed up at your doorstep the night after. She wore a long brown coat and a pair of black heels. Nothing more. Her offer was simple. Put her husband back into the position you just fired him from. Your reward? Sex. Whenever you want.

It was an offer you couldn't refuse. Especially when the young woman unbuttoned her coat without a word, after she offered you her deal. Since then, you've been fucking Choi Sooyoung, whenever you had the time to do so.

After a while, you started to lean into her deal more and more. You're now at a point at which you can tell her what to wear, whenever the two of you meet.

Just like right now. But you aren't at home. Or at an hotel. You're at the year-end party of your company. At least you were, until five minutes ago.

"I look like a slut in this."

You break your kiss with Sooyoung to answer her.

"That's why I told you to wear it."

You turn her around, pressing her face against the closed door of the small office you're in. Her husband's office.

You kiss her left shoulder, before you start to make your way to the other side. Not leaving an inch of her skin untouched, you enjoy her beauty. Your hands reach around her and you place them on Sooyoung's chest. Groping and kissing her turns the young woman into a hot mess. She loves it when you take you time. When you just enjoy her body. As if it belongs to you. How her smooth skin glistens in the dim light that shines in from outside. How her chest heaves, when you push the leather off her body. How you take a deep breath, inhaling her sweet scent, while you kiss her neck.

The fact that she shouldn't be doing this, the fact that she shouldn't be enjoying this....

It turns her on even more. How you're so different to her husband in every way.

Sooyoung's dress is lying on the floor by now. Her high heels and her necklace are the only things that keep her from being entirely naked. You bend her over her husband's desk.

While you take off your pants, you admire the sight of her tits, pressed against the wooden surface, while her ass looks just perfect. Her heels make it so it's at the exactly right angle for you.

There's no need or time for something as simple as a blowjob. She gave you one earlier at the party anyway.

Your name leaves her lips as you penetrate her pussy. Your thrusts are slow at first. But they soon quicken as you get consumed by her beauty. This always happens to you. Her body and the fact that this shouldn't happen at all makes you want it even more.

Her moans become louder. Sooyoung's nails scratch on the surface. Will her husband find them tomorrow? You don't care. His wife is the one that has all your attention right now. His wife and her pussy.

You grab a fistful of her hair with one hand, while the other squeezes one of her delicious ass cheeks. Using her for your own pleasure has her moaning and gasping.

Soon, Sooyoung has become you personal cum dump. Once again you've painted her pussy with your load. She lies atop your desk, still breathing heavily from the pounding she just took.

You fall back into her husband's chair. Sooyoung soon peels herself off the desk, before dropping to her knees in front of you. As always, she starts to clean your cock of her juices and some of your leftover cum. Most of it is dripping out of her pussy right now.

As Sooyoung cleans your cock with expertise, you're looking down on her. Locking eyes with her makes you want to ruin her again.

"I already know, what you're wearing next time."

-------------

Hi, everyone!

I hope you enjoyed reading this. I honestly have to say that I was considering on rewriting this, because I feel like I couldn't use it's full potential. But due to studying a lot right now, I don't have the time or energy to rewrite this, so I hope you can still have fun reading it.

Stay healthy!

#ask #kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #snsd sooyoung #snsd smut #girls generation sooyoung #girls generation smut #girls generation #choi sooyoung

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raainberry · 6 months

Text

Cross The Line (Prologue)

« Doing something outside the bounds of acceptable behavior. »

Mina x gn!reader

synopsis - being a regular at urgent care raises suspicions but apparently also temperatures which results in the blurring of a few lines

wordcount - 1.5K

T/W - mentions of diverse injuries, stitches, and the hospital obviously. resident!mina, patient!reader angst but also fluff that’s not really fluff bc its just angst disguised as fluff. yearning if you will.

A/N - i made my research after writing🧍‍♀️girlie is NOT supposed to be alone with the patient but oh well. we’re here for the plot. happy mina day to all who celebrate!!

Mina’s movements were calculated. Precise, and accurate. She never let any room for the unexpected. It was too dangerous.

Her attention was consumed by the monitors, checking and writing down any anomalies she deemed important enough ahead of your transfer to a surgical unit. You’d come in with an open wound on your cheekbone, and pain in your arm which she quickly found out was a fracture in need of surgery.

She was known to be effective, eyes sharp and catching any detail that dared try and escape her. Like how your heartrate slightly increased on the monitor when she came in earlier, or the way you looked at her whenever you landed in the building.

She tried to ignore the familiar sense of déjà-vu washing over her, but her questions kept increasing in number. She never knew the reason behind your visits, but the nature of your injuries gave her a few clues. A broken nose, scratches, cuts and open wounds, hematomas… Five visits in the past two years, an unusual average, enough to leave an imprint on any Resident.

Something about you was odd. It pulled at a curiosity she’d vowed to ignore unless in name of the patient’s wellbeing, and you were especially good at tempting her.

For whatever reason, she was the one assigned to your case for every one of your visits. A twist of fate maybe. She’d call it incredible bad luck if she hadn’t grown that damn soft spot.

As frustrating as tending to you could be, the hours it took to do so allowed her to get a glimpse of the person behind the entire Unit’s favorite gossip column. Though that glimpse remained very surface leveled.

You were incredibly hard to read through your blatent lies, and it scared her. It made her see through herself more than she probably ever could you.

In short, she was attracted to you.

“What are you thinking about?” Your voice was soft despite the slight rasp in your throat. It almost made her forget about her surroundings.

“Nothing.” She cleared her throat, tearing her eyes away from your figure as fast as she’d found it.

You chuckled, your mind a little fuzzy from the local anesthesia. “Come on, we’re past that.”

Her fingers halted their motion against the clipboard in her hands, something you barely noticed but still had the strength to smirk at. It wasn’t hard getting a reaction from her, but it was hard to catch it.

You smiled to yourself, closing your eyes as the effects of the anesthesia lingered. That was something you usually kept to yourself, and Mina’s attention didn’t fail to catch that detail either.

"You know, it’s getting hard to believe you're not getting hurt on purpose." She sighed, pushing her glasses back up her nose.

"I would never break a bone on purpose.” You mumbled, wincing slightly as you adjusted yourself on the examination table. “Hurts like hell…"

"Thought you'd be a little tougher," Mina remarked in a tone that pushed your eyes open.

It was colder than you were used to. Icy and slippery.

"Yeah, well… we all have our limits, Mina." You replied quietly.

"It's still Dr. Myoui to you.”

You nodded, pursing your lips apologetically. The words would have pulled a laugh out of you if they’d ever come out of anyone else’s chest, but you knew better around her.

"What happened this time?" She asked, and the question surprised you. A glance at her eyes, now on you only out of respect, and you found out it wasn’t her own will.

Don’t be difficult, they begged. So you played along.

"Fell off a skateboard," You responded with as casual of a demeanor as you could.

She stared at you in silence, leaving you a few custom seconds to see if you'd tell her the truth this time. Instead, you offered her your best smile, and she had to hold her own back. "Do you even have a skateboard?"

"Do you need that information to treat me?"

"Just wondering."

"You seem to do that a lot…" You trailed off, leaving the words hanging in the air.

Mina left that as the last of them to be spoken for a long while, turning her focus onto some more medical nonsense you could never decipher to save your life.

Maybe that’s why your eyes always landed on her.

She could feel them, following her every move around the room, and it was hard not to meet them.

A silence you were used to settled, the quiet hum of the room fading into the tension hanging in the air.

You feigned interest in your hospital bracelet to escape it, but the sight of your own name made you look away from it. The blank ceiling was enough to distract you, but only for a moment.

Not staring at her was an effort you struggled to make even with a sound mind. The first time you’d seen her, it took you a full minute to blink. It had pulled a smile out of her, and the words she used to point it out echoed in a blurry memory.

How safe you felt in her hands that night, you sought the feeling ever since. In vain.

Your gaze bore into her, merciless against the composure she desperately tried to hold on to. Each of your visits tested it in a way she had yet to see. To feel. She would resent you if she doubted your intentions. If she doubted her own.

"How long until it's not anymore?" Your voice broke the silence, startling Mina into meeting your eyes again.

This anesthesia seemed to guide you into an uncharted territory, where the boundaries of her professionalism blurred, seeping through her fingers with your every word.

She seemed lost in the place your words had suddenly lured her into, so you offered some guidance.

"How long until I can call you Mina?"

The question lingered in the air, pulling at the veil you’d draped over your desires.

It seemed you were close to baring them, Mina exposing a glimpse with a soft bite on her bottom lip.

You’d sculpted a fragile bridge. Cracked and vulnerable to the slightest movement. You enjoyed dancing around it, but one wrong step and it all comes crumbling down.

Mina hesitated, eyes avoidant and voice soft as she stepped forward. "Maybe once you don't get hurt anymore," she murmured.

This wasn’t the first dance she invited you to. It was rare, you weren’t used to it, but you’d rehearsed enough to guide yourselves through it.

“You know, I'd love to see you somewhere else. Outside these walls, preferably," You confessed in a whisper, wary of the thin curtains separating you from the bustling building.

Those almost slipped her mind. You could tell by the silence that followed.

She put her clipboard on a free space of the table, far enough away to keep it from becoming an obstacle. Her hands reached for your injured cheekbone, carefully examining the cut she’d stitched moments ago.

A breath caught in your throat at the touch and attention, long enough to bring a few changes to the data displayed on the screen not too far from you. A change she didn’t fail to notice yet again as she went to retrieve her notes.

A quiet laugh escaped her lips, catching you off guard. You could only watch her write down whatever conclusions she’d pulled out of her observations, waiting to see if it was safe to carry on.

“Do you feel any pain?” She asked.

“Uhm...” You hummed, focusing in order to identify any pain other than the one in your heart. “Slightly. Now that you mention it.”

Mina nodded and carried on with a bunch of questions about your well-being. You answered all of them honestly, words leaving your mouth without much thought.

“Do you feel lightheaded? Any dizziness?”

“No.”

“Are you feeling thirsty, or hungry?”

“A little thirsty.”

“Can you tell me your name and where you are right now?”

“My name is Y/n, and I’m in… at the urgent care.”

"Where would you like to see me?"

Her voice had dropped a couple decibels on that one. It took a few more seconds for you to sink it in and match an answer.

"Somewhere a little more… colorful?”

Wait…

Your eyes left the spot they’d blankly focused on on the floor to find hers still ignoring you.

“I mean… I don't know, I didn't think that far," you admitted, complying to her silent wishes.

Mina let a smile slip, a rare sight that let you peek at the depth of her feelings, and her thoughts allowed her to fantasize about the world outside. The one she could share with you. "That would be nice," she admitted softly.

Your smile mirrored her own, "So… Is that a yes?" you probed, and she chuckled, ignoring your question once more as she wrapped up her duties.

Just then, a couple nurses stepped into the room, asking Mina to take you away for the transfer you were long past due for.

Your arm was in a far worse state than your face. Or your heart.

"See you in three months, Y/n.”

part.2

#twice x reader #mina x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #twice mina #myoui mina #twice fluff

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h5eavenly · 4 months

Text

Fallen Star┃Jake Sim

twelve - were angels meant to look this somber? warnings: smut , unprotected sex (stay safe!)

Masterlist ✶ prev ✶ next

Serenity fills your body, mingling through your soul and travelling all around your being. Its touch warm and gentle. Like feathers that graze the skin of your wrist. And it presses right down on your pulse. The warmth seems to intensify at the sign of your life enough to pull you out of your darkness, opening your eyes to a pair of worried eyes that stare back at you. Despite the tiredness pulling at you, you feel a weird pain sneaking its way into your heart. It pulls at it so nimbly and your eyes close shut killing your confusion just as quick.

Were angels always meant to look this somber?

Your eyes flutter open with a jolt, the unfamiliar roof above you only adds to your panic as you scramble to reach for your phone. The time only plays a smaller part in your rising panic and so you get up in a haste. Realizing you’re alone in Jake’s hotel room has your cheeks growing red in embarrassment, you hadn’t meant to fall asleep and especially not on the couch. You were supposed to check on him and leave yet how did you manage to invade his space and above all that sleep in?

You hurry to move. As if the growing humiliation will die as soon as you’re out of the room.

“Shit,shit,shit” is the only thing falling from your lips like a mantra as you wash your face briskly. It’s only when you’re about to leave the room that you catch sight of the coffee and a couple of bills on the table. You pause, the coffee is still warm when you pick it up despite the lack of a note or any confirmation you know he left it for you.

It’s only a small gesture and yet like a flutter of a butterfly wing that has abraded the surface of your heart it spreads warmth through it. Setting an unfamiliar feeling right at the center, pulling at your heartstrings so easily along with the corner of your lips. They turn upwards with a smile embedded with softness as faint as the chirping of the birds outside.

Then you ensnare yourself in a similar trap, a cage that you just got out of recently and yet you’re now walking back into smiling and so an ever growing darker one follows. Akin to childhood scars that loom on your life. Fear.

On your way to work your mind recalls glimpses of last night, from Jake’s boredom filled expression to later the sight of his worried eyes staring at you. The cold scratched touches you felt against your skin. and yet you remain unsure the longer your thoughts stretch. It only propels the questions further: was the solemn angel looking down at you with broken wings a dream or reality?

You don’t get to think about that same question and instead about a hundred different ones prod at your mind throughout the day when you realize Jake is avoiding you. At first it wasn’t super noticeable or more accurately it wasn’t noticeable to you. It all started with you walking into his dressing room ten minutes late.

“Someone had a wild night,” Sunghoon comments, walking past you with a smirk and you hit his shoulder lightly with a giggle.

“Good morning.” You greet.

Jay tilts his head at you with a nod as a response and your eyes flicker to Jake who is sitting down in his usual seat. Probably minutes away from getting his makeup done. The lack of answer from him doesn’t raise any questions in your head.

However, you grow into concern the longer your gaze settles upon him, despite his face remaining an exuberant beauty the bags under his eyes dragging a bit deeper, eyes a little colder, they’re almost empty and his expression is nothing short of crestfallen.

“You okay?” you ask him, tone so soft that when Jake reaches for his earbuds and puts them on, you aren’t sure if he’s ignoring you or didn’t hear you.

It stirs a weird sense of anxiety within you, you brush it off.

Your anxiety comes back tenfold, brushing against your fingertips and this time you can’t seem to let it go. It’s in the way Jake never looks at you, not even for a spilt second and if he did somehow mess up and stumble upon your gaze, his irises are void of emotions. Like he’s nothing but a soulless body walking around. It’s in the way every time you talk to him, he’ll reply with a word or two, or not even acknowledge your existence as you fiddle with your fingers awkwardly.

Rationally you know you might be embellishing things in your head. You know that your relationship with Jake was never on friendly terms and it’s not like you and him were having delightful daily conversations. If anything, you have probably spent time in the bathroom more than any time talking to him. Yet how come you’re growing anxious over something so transitory? Closer to being notional than non.

Nonetheless you flow with a grave excitement when your phone buzzes and you see a message incoming from him.

my boss is a dick 🙏: Are you stupid? Yn: Huh? my boss is a dick 🙏: why are you carrying these heavy boxes? Ask one of the staff to do it.

You blink at the box you just left on the ground; it was only moments ago that you came across one of the staff struggling to carry boxes inside the building alone. It was a diligent call for help and who were you to ignore it?

Your fingers fly across the screen to type out a reply.

Yn: Oh, the staff looked like they needed help with it, so I decided to do it. my boss is a dick 🙏: you’ll hurt yourself. Leave them. Yn: Don’t worry boss 😤! I’m actually really strong! Read.

Although you kept checking your phone multiple times throughout the day, a reply never comes, and despite you telling yourself that he doesn’t need to reply, that he had left you on read multiple times before. That this is how Jake always acts. Your anxiety still grows tremendously. like thorns pricking at your being.

It drives you into a need to somehow please and tame down an anger that doesn’t even exist. It permeates into you and spreads through the vessels in your brain and you’re nothing if not a slave to your misplaced worries. And so, you stick to Jake’s side all day. Like a puppy following its owner and fetching them anything, ambitious for praises and maybe a pat on the head.

You only manage to get a side eye from him when you open doors for him, or when you’re fixing his chair, his belongings. You went as far as to fix his hair that was out of place. Apart from the weirded-out look he sent your way; you got nothing and it all accumulates to an explosion during lunch time.

“I think Jake is mad at me!” you blurt out, pausing the pacing of your foot back and forth and you chew on your nail nervously.

Sunoo and Sunghoon share a look that you don’t get to witness. Your eyes beholding the back of Jake’s head who’s busy eating his lunch no further than a few meters away from you.

“Why do you think so?” Sunoo asks between full bites of kimbap.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t it seem like he’s avoiding me?”

“He seems pretty normal to me?” Sunghoon says, eyeing the way you start to pace back and forth again.

“He looks a little tired that’s all.” Sunoo adds and you shake your head in complete gainsay. Just as you’re about to go on a full rant on why you think you should dedicate the rest of your life to giving Jake a handwritten apology for everything wrong you’ve ever said to him, your thoughts are interrupted upon hearing his next words:

“Why is this salty?” He’s complaining to Jay. Despite the distance and the loud chatter of the staff members you hear it so very clearly. And you know it’s god’s mercy that have finally fallen onto your lap. A golden ticket is offered to you, and you snatch it with vigor.

Like a being suddenly taken over by superpowers, your senses are heightened (probably by your enormous anxiety) you feel like spiderman when the words Jake’s mutter reach your ears like you’re next to him. And so, you dash towards him leaving behind a very confused Sunoo and Sunghoon,

“Your food is salty?” Jake jolts in surprise at your voice, looking up behind him at your figure that almost seems like it materialized out of nowhere.

“What the fuck?” he mutters, and your lips stretch into a grin, doe eyes widening, taken by a twinkle of a desperate need to please.

“There’s this new Chinese restaurant that opened close by the company. I can head down there and get you something?” he opens his mouth to answer but you don’t even let him, immediately picking up where you left off “I had a little chat with one of the employees earlier and she said they have really good spicy garlic noodles I can grab you some?”

You’re rambling. You realize it when the room grows quieter the longer your words take to fall from your lips. And so, your face burns with heat, turning hot and red in color when you feel multiple eyes are on you. Jake’s eyes are blank as they linger on you.

“I’m fine, yn.” he says so simply as if his words didn’t resemble that same pitying god, you hate so much.

“Oh well- “you cover up your discomfiture with a nervous chuckle, feeling overtaken by embarrassment that you cannot explain how it managed its way into you “I have this pistachio chocolate cupcake I got earlier in my bag I can get it for you.” You go to turn to grab it, but his hand circles your wrist to stop you.

The touch is so strikingly familiar. It has goosebumps erupting on your skin in the span of a heartbeat.

Your body keeps track of everything.

“Are you trying to kill me, bunny?” he deadpans, and you blink stunned.

“What?”

“Jake is allergic to pistachios yn.” Jay speaks from beside him, a soft smile colored in a similar fellow feeling, and you find yourself wishing your face didn’t burn the way it did.

“Oh right.”

You walk away with a smile tinted with pitiful awkwardness, it has you curling onto yourself and wishing to minimize in size. Or maybe blend in with the walls and not have to be perceived for a while.

Your pessimistic emotions only seem to intensify the longer your day drags on. like a shadow trailing your every step and clinging to your feet. Painting the inside of your mind with an eerie silence and aiding your screaming insecurities to raise above all. Taking over every sense of logical thinking (not like you had any to begin with). Like a whirlwind of negativity that overtakes you they’re nothing but obstructive.

And that’s how you end up right outside of Jake’s waiting room. A cup filled with water and a couple of ice cubs just because you heard him talk about how his water wasn’t cold enough, it probably wasn’t something that salient. If Jake needed a different water, he would have talked to you or got it himself and yet you somehow found yourself way too far in. An it itch in your fingers and your limbs that you cannot seem to resist you rushed with that same ambition to please and got him water. Cosplaying yourself as some sort of a fairy that grants wishes. It’s the only way to persist before your thoughts anyways.

You have never been the type of person to eavesdrop so you aren’t sure why your hand stills against the doorknob when you hear the voices of Jay and Jake talking, it might not even be that much of importance but perhaps it was your unpliable need to know anything that could help quieten your anxiety.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You can leave early I’ll talk to Jennie about it.” you hear Jay ask and you press yourself closer to the door.

“I’m fine.”

“That was the worst attack you have had in a while Jake.”

“I know,” there’s a short silence that settles, your mind starts screaming at you, that you’re being ridiculous and to stop this nonsense yet your fingers flex against the doorknob and pause at his next words “and it had to be in front of her out of all people.”

Is he talking about you?

“Ah. You’re worried about that?”

“Of course, I am. I wish yn wasn’t there.”

Your heart, as weak as ever drops at that, shattering right at your feet and you stare at it, unable to move, unable to collect the pieces.

“I know. "a breath of exhalation escapes Jay "Did you even sleep? You look super fucking tired man.” he adds.

“I did sleep.”

“Jake.”

“For like three hours. I kept waking up because of her.”

“Fuck. I shouldn’t have let her stay back.”

You aren’t sure if their conversation ends there or the scratch forming on your heart has somehow started working as an obstacle to your hearing. Every fiber of your being throbs with a familiar betrayal, an all too known feeling that is always lingering around the corner clambers over you. Disappointment latches itself onto you.

At the sound of rustling behind the door you realize you can’t be standing outside like this and so collecting yourself is a trying task you attempt. And it all falls apart way too quickly, you opening the door and Jake walking out at the same minute. You don’t get a chance to blink or stop yourself before you’re bumping into him. The contents of the glass you’re carrying is splashed all over him. Soaking his shirt and you could only watch with terror as he drips in water.

“Oh my god,” your hands are frozen in the air unsure if you should be touching him “I’m so sorry Jake – fuck” apologizes flee from your mouth without resistance. You’re overshadowed by liability, and you expect Jake to be angry, to glare at you and even go as far to yell because you deem yourself only worthy of such treatment.

But you don’t expect the apathy coloring his face. His eyes are drained of life and overtaken by exhaustion.

“It’s fine, bunny.” His words are out akin to a sigh and yours dissolve on your tongue. He dawdles past you with another sigh and your shoulders slump, eyes flickering to Jay who watched the whole thing unravel.

“s-should I get him a shirt or something?”

“I think he can manage himself yn.”

The smile Jay sends you is as gentle as ever yet there’s an underlining sympathy that makes you feel as if he knows you heard everything. You’re not indisputable enough to understand anything anymore. But you know that Jake is exhausted, and you have managed to add piles of burden to his already heavy shoulders. It is too late, but you realize then, that you have caught yourself too far in once again. Too much.

It's a familiar relic from a state you’ve always known, always found yourself drowned in. it’s mere moments that plunge you into the frigid truth and you’re constantly treading on recrimination of yourself.

You are but an infuriating entity.

God hated you. You’re sure of it. You must have done something so awful in your past life to end up where you are right now. There’s no other way to explain how you’re outside of Jake’s apartment with his phone between your fingers and you, drenched in water because the sky decided it’s the perfect time to pour the moment you stepped foot outside the company doors.

Jake is god’s favorite. This must be karma for spilling water on him earlier. You knew you were meant to walk into a mess the moment you were getting ready to leave and Jay had found you, an apologetic smile on his face as he told you that Jake had forgotten his phone and if you could take it to him.

You should have said no.

“What are you doing here?” Jake asks as soon as he opens his door, surprise evident in his tone as his eyes take in your trembling figure.

“Your phone,” your voice shakes as you extend your palm to him with the device in it. Jake blinks, taking his phone as he tries to register everything that’s going on, but you don’t give him a chance to linger on any passing thought. Not a chance for his eyes to take in your disheveled state.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry about everything." taking a deep breath in and then like a monster that has been unleashed, your anxiety transforms itself in the only way you know how to be; sorry.

"I’m sorry about pressuring you to see me yesterday. I’m sorry about falling asleep on your couch and I’m sorry about today I know I was being so annoying-“ your apologies fall like confessions, like sins and you’re only awaiting punishment to strike you.

“Woah! Woah, slow down yn.” He interrupts you, eyes fliting across your features in evident concern, and you take another deep breath in. not realizing how quickly your tears have managed to well up in your eyes.

“It’s fine,” he assures when you look down at your feet suddenly growing embarrassed “you’re fine.”

“Okay.” You sniffle, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

“Come inside.” he suggests, his fingers envelope your palm and you shake your head.

“I don’t want to annoy you.” You reply in a small voice.

“I’m not letting you leave like this bunny you’re shaking. Come on.”

As Jake leads you inside, you watch with an inquisitive gaze as he immediately places his phone on the counter and heads for the kitchen sink. You stand there for minutes that seem to stretch way too long as he turns on the water and seem to be washing his hands. your eyes dancing across the opulent interior as the sound of running water fills the silence between you two.

Your gaze settles upon the vase of blue colored flowers in the middle of his table. A litheness you don’t expect to see in his belongings. A struck of color in between his blacks and white, it looks out of place.

“What are those flowers called?” When Jake turns the water off and faces you, there’s a distant look in his eyes, as they flicker between you and the flowers. It's solely momentary, yet you capture it.

“Forget me not.”

You grasp how you dislike the way you act around him. Repeatedly stumbling on a cold façade, putting on an overly exaggerated charade that somehow never goes through. While Jake is akin to a strong mountain, unweaving. You feel like the wind, hallow and fleeting.

You’re pushed into feeling like an embarrassing child and the feeling stays even when you end up in his shower. Covered in a scent that isn’t yours but one that you know, one that is strong enough to provoke dark emotions from you. has your cheeks blushing and blooming into things you pretend you don’t know. Even when you’re all clean and dressed in another woman’s clothes that you can’t help but wonder why he has. Your blush remains despite the hideous green sense of foreboding crawling up your spine.

“Fits okay?” he asks once you’re out the bathroom and you hum an approval.

“Why do you have a woman’s clothes though?” the question escapes before you can stop it, your teeth biting down on your lip. And your insides are set ablaze when his eyes dart to them.

“They’re Soojin’s. She stays over sometimes.”

“You guys seem to be close.”

“Yeah,” he hums, brushing past you to the bathroom and your eyes follow him. Watching with intent focus “it’s good that she was there last night when you know..” You trail off, your fingers fiddling with the end of the sweater you’re wearing nervously.

“Soojin is always there. She’s so attentive and observant to the point where it’s annoying at times.”

His words resemble the edge of a blade that’s plunged straight into your chest. His words from earlier swirl around your head and that combined with her remnants lying in his space evokes emotions from you that you wish did not manifest within you.

The sound of running water fills the empty spaces of silence between you once again, you lean your head on the wall and watch as Jake washes his hands once again. Telling yourself it’s not because he just touched your clothes is a trying task you fail.

“How long have you guys known each other?” Your question hangs in the air, unanswered. His speech impairment has you raising an eyebrow in confusion. Jake is staring at nothing in particular, eyes unblinking and clouded. It takes a few tantalizing minutes before he snaps himself out of a daze.

“Huh?”

“I asked how long you guys have known each other?” you repeat, the syllables coming out slower.

In response, Jake closes the water and takes a step forward, his shoulder brushes against yours delicately and you hold your breath without meaning to “a while,” he mumbles, vaguely as he walks back into his room and again you follow.

You feel akin to standing at the edge of a cliff, close to jumping into an ocean filled with nothing but regrets and sorrow when he sits on his bed and his eyes find yours. As if finding the brightest star upon a dark night sky.

“C’mere bunny.” He pats the space in front of him, your knees buckle under you, you hear your heartbeat in your ears.

There’s no way for you to feel safe here, is what you think as you take hesitant steps towards the bed and with a lumbersome feeling clinging to your body. You settle upon the soft sheets, his scent envelopes you and the tilt of his lips is enough to have your cheeks warming up.

“Turn around.”

“What are we doing exactly?” you ask, tone laced with suspicion, and he rolls his eyes at you.

“Your shoulders hurt from carrying those boxes earlier today, don’t they? I have this pain relief gel for you. Turn around.”

You cannot help the surprise that overtakes you, hadn’t expected such a kind gesture from him and so like a thin thread of string you bend so easily. Pulling so effortlessly at your heartstrings, your blush only deepens, a darker feeling lurks beneath the surface.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m okay really.” You reply, a flimsy excuse of defiance.

“Bullshit. Turn around stop making me repeat myself.” His tone is stern and it’s enough to have you growing weaker if possible. You swallow around nothing, giving him your back and nerves creases your features.

With his hand encircling your waist he swiftly pulls you closer to him, raising a gasp from you when you feel his breath hit the back of your neck, eliciting shivers from you and an exhalation.

“I’m gonna lift your shirt up,” he whispers, voice so low it only helps you divulge into desires that you thought you successfully locked away. At your silent nod, he lifts your sweater enough for him to see your bare skin slowly come into view.

His fingers are cold against your shoulder blades, the feeling of his new forming scabs are rough and yet you manage to find tenderness lacing them. It’s anything but pleasant so why does it have heat licking its way up your stomach? Fiery hot and overwhelmingly impossible to ignore.

It’s the way his touch feels the same way it felt in your dream. Like grazing feathers, as soft as you imagine feeling heaven on your skin would be like. It’s as if you’re a delicate flower that he’s too afraid to pressure, to hurt. As if you would fall apart as easy as it is for his fingers to touch and perhaps that’s why it felt so facile for your brain to melt, like running water that is incapable of coming up with a strong enough defense. Conceivably you surrender.

When you turn your head to look back at him his face is mere inches away from yours. His eyes catch yours, capturing them into place and how is it possible for you not will yourself to him when they’re so clear. When they break through you as if you were a trivial piece of glass, you are so fragile you break with the blink of his eye. You fall apart with his rattled breath brushing against your lips, his thumb on your shoulder blade. You’re like a trivial piece of glass, see through and so you spill all your contents to him.

It’s in the way your irises soften in a manner so foreign to him, the tilt of your brows in affectionate rendition is so quick, almost like a ghost floating by that he’s not sure he sees it when this time your castle burns to the ground first. So abrupt, swift, and more than anything destructive your lips seek his as though they didn’t know anything else.

You kiss him and it’s innocent, short yet enough to have you breathless. Your body tingling with overflowing warmth when your hand cups his jaw akin to a delusional trick a sweet lover would pull.

“What was that for?” he asks when you pull away, eyes lidded as they implore into yours.

“I don’t know I just-“ you try to conjure a smart enough of a response. Something that could be passed by as sexy enough to match up with this brittle boldness yet you’re traipsing on your words and then there’s nothing. They melt on your tongue and in the darkening shade of his gaze “I’m sorry I don’t know what I was thinking.” You settle with, bashful like crushed petals of roses have found home on your cheeks.

Your temerity flees before it’s even here, eclipsed by a hallow void, touch starved.

You stitch your pride together with fallacious force, the same one you use to tilt your lips upwards into a faux smile. You attempt with a quivering heart that you pray will turn coarse one day yet today seems to join a chain of failures. That same shakiness runs through your hands as an attempt to collect the ashes of your dignity. You’re barely kept together by anything when his hand is turning your head to face him.

The intensity of his stare is unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed, it could only be inhuman. A beauty so out of this world it feels unjust to for you to behold. Jake is astoundingly breathtaking, exuberant as if every eyelash was carefully crafted by an angel. He is god’s finest work.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, bunny.” His words are whispered right upon your lips, and in a brief exhale, a fluttering of your lashes, he’s nothing sort of angelic and so you go to pieces, unsure if it’s a warning or an entitle of temptation.

You’re nothing but a trivial piece of glass, albeit even when you shatter, you’re rough and you cut into his flesh deep and painful. You turn your body fully to face him, as if controlled by your desire you straddle him, and his hands fall to your hips naturally. His palms itching all over until they are under your shirt, and you shudder.

“Should I finish it then?” you whisper back, wrapping your arms around his neck and your labored breaths are your enlarged lust's giveaway.

A phantom of a smirk starts to form on his pinking lips, and you don’t give room for triumphant to bloom further before crashing your lips into his. The kiss is nothing alike the one before, it’s rough and desperate, all teeth and tongue and you move together as if tranced, lead forward by an overwhelming hunger clawing at you. It makes itself evident in him when his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer into him, pressing himself more against you.

You taste so sweet, dripping with lure and Jake licks it up. Your body fits perfectly into his plan, articulated by his mind’s need to run away.

You feel him smile lazily against your lips when you start grinding down on him in a despairing need, your desire breaks your faith first.

“You want it that bad?” he murmurs, pulling away just enough to let his words out. It is more than enough to irk you, yet you find nothing to say back. Not when his fingertips are venturing under your shirt, grazing the soft skin of your hips.

You roll your eyes in apparent disregard, focusing on the way your body grows hotter by the second and yet Jake remains tenacious.

“Mhm?” He itches for an answer, gaze chasing your wandering one and this time you take his lips for yours in attempts to quieten him. It seems to work because he groans against your mouth, licking inside your lips as his hands move to the swell of your ass.

It works until it doesn’t anymore. Until the way his endless need to annoy you takes over.

“You’re awfully quiet compared to last time.” He says softly, leaning down to place kisses upon your jaw and if he wasn’t smiling you wouldn’t notice the teasing edge.

“And you’re awfully talkative.” You retort, turning your head to give him better access to your skin.

“Mhm.” There’s a pause, tantalizing enough to have you squirming on top of him when his teeth to nibble on your earlobe.

“You missed my cock that much?”

What a fucking arrogant piece of -

“You didn’t last long enough for me to miss it.” He chuckles against your neck, the sound travelling straight to your stomach and goosebumps erupt all over you. you convince yourself it’s because of the feeling of his lips.

“Acting if you weren’t the one who came first.”

“Are you gonna fuck me or what?” you huff, pushing at his shoulder and he follows easily enough to know there’s a catch. It manifests in the way he leans his head against his headboard with that smug smile disperses across his lips. Strands of his dark hair fall over his eyes almost perfectly into place to paint the picture of how a devil would gleam with satisfaction.

“Maybe if you beg me this time. Can you do that?” his words set your insides ablaze and you aren’t sure it it’s anger or just pure lust at this point.

You were never religious enough to go against sins, nor do you wish you were and so you chase after him, blinded by the glamour of him. Your foreheads touch and his eyes are on your lips following every rising breath you let out, his façade almost falls apart by the way you keep grinding against him, his cock is already half hard.it almost falters if your eyes weren’t turning hazy.

“Fuck off.” You breathe out against his lips, all bark no bite and he chuckles incredulously “I could just go and ask anyone else to fuck me.” You’re almost moaning your words out, the shake in your voice gives your want away and that’s why Jake is growing amused, titling his head to watch the way you somehow managed to hang on by the edge of falling apart without him touching you.

“Oh yeah? why don’t you go and do that then?” he replies minutely.

“Maybe I will.”

“Uh huh. Who do you have to ask?”

“a-a lot of people.”

“Like who? Give me names bunny.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I’m just curious since you brought it up.” He coos and you huff in response, your frustration grows adjacent with your lust. You wish upon any star in the night that he’ll shut up and fuck you, his lopsided smirk tells you otherwise.

Your eyes harden into a glare, yet the trembling of your fingers and your heaving chest unravel your weakness for him. It’s all so evident to him.

“They’ll probably make me feel so much better too.” You mumble.

in stark contrast to your expectations, you somehow contrive to dismantle his curtains of indifference, every semblance of fun leaves his body replaced by a parching heat. Akin to anger that turns his stare icy, it has a shiver running down your body and a soft gasp escapes you when he pulls you flush against him.

“You fucking piss me off bunny.” He spits through his teeth and this time you’re the one glistening with elation.

“Good.” You breathe out when he rolls his eyes at you, he shifts your position and before you get a time to blink, to think. You’re on your back against the plush bed sheets.

“Quiet.” His lips are a breath away from yours and you arch into him, a yearning for the taste of him and he compiles. Meeting you in the middle for a kiss, too rough, too messy and yet his hand against your cheek is anything but that. Too gentle, too tender and you feel it in the deepest parts of you.

You loathe it.

You loathe it even more when you’re momentarily separated with your shirt being taken off and when your eyes cross again there’s a flicker in his gaze, they soften for a fleeting moment, his hand caresses your cheek and it’s too lenient for a sexually explicit instant. You almost miss it all, by the twinkling of an eye you dimly register how his eyes glaze over. How there’s a pause in his air as his eyes rake over your body, over your nude breasts, your slender neck and then he’s drowning in you, akin to an ocean he wants to bask in.

You’re almost as pretty as the forget me nots coming to life with full bloom in his living room. However, you’re nothing alike, you smell so much sweeter, cinnamon, and vanilla ricochets off you, and he comes by himself growing dizzy. You’re so cordial, equivalent to the cherry blossoms he witnessed last spring.

You’re almost as pretty as his forget me nots and yet you’re nothing like them at all. There’s no way for someone like you to be anything close to tepid. So, he ignores the question raising in your gaze.

It’s evanescent yet your heart constricts in your chest, painfully so when he leans down and kisses you again, your words are stolen by his soft lips, and he ventures with them just the same. Leaving a trail of kisses in-between your breasts and all the way down.

“Didn’t think you’d have a tattoo,” he speaks against your skin and it’s fairly unjust how you tremble. Your skin feels sensitive under his touch as if they were flames upon you.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Is this the fucking alien from toystory?” his thumb brushes against your hipbone, right where your small piece of ink is at and you groan, overwhelmed by the need to hide your face somewhere.

“What about it?”

“It’s not very well done if I’m being honest.”

“Yeah, because it’s a stick and poke. My friend did it on me when he was like 17.” You look down to glare at him and it falters as quick as it comes, melting away into your arousal. Because the sight of Jake being between your legs is something you couldn’t have prepared for.

Not in this lifetime or the one before.

“Are you still friends with him?”

“Yeah. he’s my best friend.” You answer with a sigh, falling back into the pillows with a flushed face when you feel Jake’s lips hover over your tattoo before he kisses right above it, slowly enjoying the taste of your skin.

“Jake..” Your voice comes out as soft as a mewl when you thread your fingers through his dark hair, you can’t help but think about how soft it is, how his sheets smell exactly like him. You realize a tad too late that you’ve somehow drowned yourself in pieces of him and it only flusters you further.

“Mhm?”

“What are you doing?” you splutter when your pants are swiftly unbuttoned and pushed down the length of your legs. You grow self-conscious at the realization that you’re almost fully nude in front of him for the first time.

“I’m gonna make you feel good. what does it look like I’m doing?” With bated breath, your thoughts grow overwhelmingly loud with screaming insecurities that you don’t get to register his next words fully;

“I’m not keeping you quiet this time so you can be as loud as you want to be. Let me hear you bunny.” His tone is laced with allure, profoundly ample for you to clench around nothing.

A squeal escapes you when you feel his breath against your clothed cunt and then he’s burying his nose into you, feeling you completely soaked, it’s only added inflation to his ego “J-jake w-wait-“ you sputter with a burning face, your fingers tug at his hair and yet he ignores you. busy with taking your panties off.

“When was the last time you got your pretty pussy eaten, bunny?” you open and close your mouth a couple of times in shock. Somehow your mind cannot keep up with how lewd an angel’s mouth could be.

It is not something you prepared to hear that you almost ebb and flow out of consciousness, your sanity clings by a hair.

“Stop asking me stupid questions Jake!” you groan, burying your burning face in your hands. and much to your annoyance he chuckles in response.

“So, you can be cute too.” Your heart, as delicate as it always has been, throbs against your ribs as if trying to break free. You peek at him through your fingers and his hungry eyes flicker up to yours as if he senses your stare. Their severity is enough for you to fall into a feeble silence.

you feel the hot muscle of his tongue trace over your dripping folds and your lips fall apart with a silent scream fuck! Is the only thing running through your mind when you tug his hair harder, and he groans against your pussy sending vibrations throughout your entire body. tongue pushing into your hole and lips kissing and sucking at your clit.

Every negative thought swirling around your mind moments ago grows faint then it dissipates instead being replaced with your stubborn pettiness that is telling you to keep silent, do not give him the satisfaction of knowing how good it feels.

It's all deemed impossible when he keeps flicking his tongue against your bundle of nerves until it’s pulsating, and you crumble exasperatingly fast.

“F-fuck!- mhm –“ Your body is buzzing with electricity, your sounds forcing themselves out of your mouth as your body withers against his sheets.

It doesn’t help that Jake keeps humming against your pussy, as if you do taste as sweet as he sounds. As if he’s having the time of his life watching you fall apart on his tongue. It only aids the last bit of resolve within you to shatter.

“Jake- oh my god- f-feels so good.” You cry out, hips arching so high off the bed and your toes curl in absolute euphoria. You feel akin to falling off a cliff, like constantly being on the verge of losing your mind when two fingers prod at your clenching entrance, proceeding to push in without warning. It’s all what it took for you to completely implode in ecstasy.

“c-coming- I’m coming- holy” you attempt to warn him, your trembling fingers trying to pry his head away from your throbbing pussy, but Jake doesn’t relent, instead you feel him smile against you, reinforces his grip on your hips and buries his fingers deeper into you, following every buck and twitch of your hips with ease.

Son of a bitch.

“J-jake!” You aren’t sure how loud your voice goes, aren’t sure of how hard you pulled on his hair and how painful it must have been. You’re only sure of how your mouth falls open and by the end of your orgasm you feel like you’re floating amongst the stars. You whine when he keeps pressing kisses to your puffy folds, your hips bucking away from him.

“s-stop. Too much.” You whimper, with stroke of your fingers through his hair as if your digits have grown apologetic to their radge behavior on their own.

When Jake lifts his head, you catch yourself growing breathless once again at the sight of his face covered in you, nothing could have prepared you for it, nothing could come close to how he manages to look ethereal even while covered in your arousal. How his dilated pupils manage to find a way to cut right through you. you’re trying so hard to breath – equally stolen by your orgasm and how angelic he looks.

“Too much? I haven’t even fucked you yet,” he muses, an arrogant smile taking place onto his handsome face. Your mind is hazy that you don’t find anything to say back, your eyes dancing around his and he arches a brow at your silence and you almost squirm, a growing urge to look away yet your pride grows taller.

“Don’t tell me your shitty excuse of an ex never made you come twice before?”

“I don’t feel like talking about my ex when you’re about to fuck me.”

“Oh? Weren’t you the one talking about other men when I was about to fuck you?” his tone is stagnant, and you look away with hot cheeks. it’s inhuman how piercing his eyes are.

“that’s different.” You mutter weakly. Your mind is too fucked out to think of anything witty to say.

Thankfully Jake doesn’t seem to have anything to say either. Instead, the sound of clothes rustling fills the room as Jake takes off his shirt. When he leans over you, your eyes meet in all too presumptuous severity. It coaxes forth the gentle touch of his rough palm against your cheek and your palms trace his chest. and it’s prodigiously scorching. With a strong impulse, you kiss him first and he chases after your taste like a starved man.

His need grows glaringly obvious, his indifference crumbling albeit much later than yours, it ends up right next to your petty recalcitrant. It has a faint grin dancing upon your lips.

“I need to get a condom.” He whispers, his lips abutting against yours.

“I’m on the pill. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, just fuck me already.”

Despite your demeaning desperation you’re rewarded with a quirk of his lips, his thumb brushes under your bottom lip and when he places a fugitive brush of a kiss there, you grow a hinge to curl into yourself. There’s a divergent gentleness that coats his actions, it has the apples of your cheeks growing warm, tinged with pink. When he leans back his hand works fast to undo his jeans and you allow your eyes to travel across the expanse of his body with appreciation, you’re unable to hide it.

You find yourself growing in awe again, so pretty.

He’s so pretty.

When his lips touch yours, you think that’s what stepping into heaven must feel like, and you could only whimper against his lips when you feel the tip of his cock begin to prod at your entrance. It turns into a broken moan at the feeling of him entering inside you, your head drops back into the pillows and his hands fall on your hips with a bruising grip.

“Jesus, this pussy is gonna drive me fucking crazy.” He growls, thrusts growing faster and harder. Barely giving you any time to adjust or breathe. Your body pushed further up the bed with each thrust, the sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room and it all grows way too lewd, too quickly.

Soft cries leave your mouth and your body writhes against his, your nails dragging along his back, rough enough to leave evidence for the following couple of days. You don’t have it in you to care, not right now not when he keeps driving his hips into yours, eliciting louder and louder moans from you.

“You’re so loud, bunny. Does it feel that good?” There’s a dark glint in his eyes when he asks, a mean edge to his tone.

“S-shut up- ah!” you try your utmost hardest to glare at him, yet you slip at a particularly hard thrust of his. His cold chuckle only pushes you further into anger. Like it runs in your veins and with your blood. It’s almost patronizing.

“How am I gonna explain this to my neighbors?” with his question he leans closer to you, his lips inches away from yours as they curl into a smile that should be considered evil “mhm?” he taunts and you groan, pushing his face away from yours with your hand.

“Fucking asshole,” you hiss. Resisting the urge to cover your face, you won’t give him the satisfaction of that. It all seems futile though when his grin goes wider. Pressing his lips onto yours with a short kiss, just to see you try to harden your eyes at him again.

To see the same glare melt away and then your brows knit together, turning your head and then you’re attempting to cover your face with a quivering hand, as if harboring a shield from the bullets he carries as his eyes.

“I’m close.” He murmurs, a tad too sweet as his hands abandon your hips and circles your wrists instead, pressing them into the sheets and his hips are pounding against yours. And you can only gasp in response, your fingers flexing in his brutal grip, sure to leave evidence of his own on your body. Your own orgasm approaches just as fast and almost as intense as your first one.

“You too yeah? I can feel you clenching around me nonstop- holy shit.” you nod furiously. His voice alone is vigorous enough to send shivers of pleasure through your entire body and your eyesight starts to blur with unshed tears.

Jake cannot perfectly recall it, he’s almost sure he was enamored by how you look the first time he saw you but nothing could compare to how you look right now. Nothing could come close to how pretty you look crying on his cock.

It feels dizzying, the way your cunt keeps squeezing him and the way your face screws up, body trembling and mouth falling open it’s all more than enough to send him over the edge.

You don’t expect him to kiss you, but he does, it’s so softly sweet it steals your breath away and you’re growing frustrated because of it. Raking your mind to find a reason as to why and coming back empty handed yet again.

How is it possible for a mere kiss to feel unanticipatedly sinful?

You break it first, failing to look away fast enough not to catch his eyes and yet again you’re stumbling into weird feelings once more with how unweaving his gaze is. Strength that you lack and unlike him you’re constantly trembling. He captivates you with his beauty a second time and you’re more than thankful when he rolls off you with a sigh. It has you letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Despite the silence growing heavy between you two, it doesn’t last very long.

“Get up.” Jake speaks, stumbling out of his bed to change his clothes. A grimace on his face.

“What?” you ask, blinking at him.

“Get up. I need to wash the sheets.” He answers, monotone but not unkindly.

“Can’t we rest and then you can wash them later?”

“No. I’m washing them now so get up,”

But I’m tired.

“Okay.”

Are words you swallow down, realizing you’re probably being a nuisance. You tumbled into his apartment without permission and so you get up. Jake moves to tug off his sheets. As he collects them in his arms he shoots you a look.

You have already given him enough trouble these few days and just as the clouds of lust disappeared, the guilt takes over.

“I’m gonna go wash them in the other bathroom. Use this one to clean up.” At your nod he leaves the room.

You clean up at a speed that cannot be deemed human, putting Soojin’s clothes back on and leave without another word muttered to Jake. You leave with a heavy feeling clinging to the edge of your feet. It paints your whole being and only bleeds out from your eyes when you’re in the back of a cab. Silent tears stream down your face for the first time in quite a while.

It coaxes a deep self-hatred you know runs through your blood. From a trivial piece of glass, you grow to feel more like a graveyard, collecting bodies that never stay, never flourish into life, and mellow down to fleeting moments closer to death than anything else. Your existence feels embarrassing, overwhelming, and utmost cruelly lonely.

You realize it then, it was never Jake, or anyone else at that. It was always you.

When Jake comes back to his room there’s a bottled water and a protein bar in his hand that are deemed useless as soon as he sees that you’re nowhere to be found.

“What the fuck?” He mutters to no one, to himself and perhaps to the thoughts coming back to invade his mind like a parasite.

His disappointment doesn’t linger very long, it goes away with the shake of his head.

You realize chaos is unfolding the moment you’re in the corridor leading to your apartment. The sound of music is so loud that it cannot be coming from anywhere else. and you’re right because when you’re inside, bottles of alcohol lying everywhere are more than enough evidence to tell you so. And the smell of smoke greets you.

“What the fuck guys?” you exclaim, hand on your hips while a very high and drunk npp stare back at you. Jungwon is lying on your couch upside down, while Heeseung blinks at you with a joint between his fingers.

“What? We’re just having fun.” Ryujin defends with a giggle, words slurring together.

“I can see that.” You reply nonchalantly. With a sigh you go to turn off the music and a loud and in union “NO!” has you jumping startled, a look of horror washes over your face.

“Why do you have to kill the fun?” Niki whines.

“Your so-called fun is gonna get me kicked out. I could hear the music all the way down the hall.”

“Woah,” Jungwon speaks suddenly, stealing everyone’s attention “your tits look huge like this.” He says amusement colors his voice and really, you’ve long made peace with the fact that your friends are insufferable.

Yet it is moments like these that have you questioning why you kept them around for so long.

Niki with criminal like eyes, grabs a pillow and hits Jungwon in the face multiple times with it until it looks like he’s on the verge of suffocating him. You swivel your head away from them, you cannot be a witness to a crime you didn’t see.

“Come on! Let loose a little you need it as much as we do.” Ryujin says, walking to you and wrapping you into an embrace with an arm around your shoulders. She nuzzles her cheek against yours with a pout and you hate how your heart warms up immediately at the gesture.

“Yeah, you look tense as fuck Lilo.” Heeseung stands on your other side, his arm wraps around your waist and a bottle of soju in his other hand. Your eyes flit to it momentarily.

Instead of having an angel and a devil on your shoulders you wonder how you end up having two devils. Perhaps it was the unyielding urge to hit your head against your wall, or just the desire to walk to a mirror, steal a glance at your reflection and then watch it smash to pieces. It was the immense desire to run away. From yourself, from everything. And that’s why you end up snatching Heeseung’s bottle, chugging it down with one breath.

“Yeah! that’s my girl!” Heeseung whistles with a cheer and Ryujin turns to the music back up. It reverberates through your living room.

Out of nowhere, all your words feel too much inside of you. like your chest is so heavy and you need to unload it somehow. They come up to your throat so immensely fast there’s no way to stop them.

“I can’t believe I just fucked my boss again.” You blurt out.

You’d think that the sound of music was loud enough for them not to hear you clearly but maybe it was the same mockery that god liked to put you through every single day that manifests right now. A pregnant silence commences. Long enough for your confession to dawn on you,

Niki gasps and Jungwon tumbles off the couch with a thud loud enough for Ryujin to go check on him.

“What?!” Niki sputters, a mortified expression on his face.

“Again?” Heeseung looks at you, contrary to your brother he looks somewhat impressed. with a wiggle of his brows and a smirk tilting his lips.

“First time was at work and second time was like an hour ago.”

“Whore.” Jungwon mutters on the floor and you kick a pillow at him.

“I don’t think fucking your boss is a good idea yn.” you groan at Niki’s words.

“ugh I know!”

“Damn I wish I could fuck my boss.” Heeseung says and then there’s a heavy pause that follows.

“Your dad is your boss hee.” Ryujin replies with a disgusted frown.

It’s only a few hours later with more drinks in your system than you can count that you find yourself dancing around your living room with Heeseung. To You by Mallrat plays in the background and with his arms around your waist and yours around his neck. There’s a pleasurable buzz settling in your blood, drowning out the self-pity and hatred you were in withering in not long ago. And when he spins you around, with giggles erupting from you and a smile so big it starts hurting.

A feeling so close to peace nestles its way into you and stays for a while.

Holding on to you

Is all I want to do

The lyrics engrave themselves into your brain and even when the song is over and you’re still twirling around with Heeseung. They come back to you all night even when you’re so tired you end up passing out in the middle of your friends.

You’ve long made peace with the fact that your friends are completely insufferable.

Yet it is moments like these that make you thankful you kept them around for so long.

→ taglist : @slutforsjy @wonwoos-wineparty @nxzz-skz @piripurora @vousty

@realrintaro @slut4hee @chartrucewhore @iveivory @hearteyesforseungsung

@jooniesbears-blog @hee4lifer @pretty-bluntz @babrieeee @mandoscyare

@stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @softieluvsyou @seunghancore @chaewonshoney @chaeyunloveeee

@beommii @fuxktaekook @antonsgirlfriend @rockyhedgehog @lukeys-giggle

@arikazu @jakeyverse @not-very-slay-of-you @chlodavids @belovedsthings

@vveebee @pochamocharoll @direxila @nessas-archive

@riksaes @niniissus

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just-null · 8 months

Text

Kokichi, similar to Noritoshi in the sense that they're analytical and kinda tsun, but that's mostly it. This is another Megumi and Noritoshi situation where, on the surface, they appear to be very similar, but you squint and realize they're extremely different.

Whereas Noritoshi isn't as bold because he still holds remnants of pride, Kokichi is just shy about it since it's so new. He won't back down from it, just hesitate.

[Long ass rambles under the cut! + bonus doodles.]

When referring to shyness, Kokichi leans into the awkward and stiff type. There's always confusion and slight fear in his eyes when he's experiencing something new or romantic. He doesn't want to mess up, but if he does, he just hopes it works in his favor.

Being born in a body where he was under constant pain and stress, someone touching him was the last thing he wanted. He'd never known the loving touch of another because the heavens decided he wasn't allowed to.

After meeting you, that yearning to be next to you became too much. To hell with his restrictions. He'd to do whatever it takes to be able to be with you even if he had to sacrifice others to do it.

In retrospect, he feels like he should've done it sooner. Being touched or even grazed doesn't feel like his skin is falling off anymore.. Plus having both arms and working legs is always a good thing. It's new and odd, but not terrible. His mind never once wandered back and regretted those he's thrown under the bus because why would it?

Unfortunately, when his body was being healed, Mahito made him healthy.. and that's all. Knowing Mahito, he'd leave Kokichi to struggle with catching up to the rest of his peers by working for his own stamina, weight, and strength from square one. Though Kokichi isn't complaining much about it. He'd still take this rather than being stuck in that god forsaken tub for a second longer.

He used to hate being fussed over because of his illness. He prefers to do things on his own and now he can. Yet, Kokichi still gets pitiful looks on other's faces when he's too weak to carry something. It makes him want to spit at them, he can use Mechamaru to do his heavy lifting for now. He doesn't need a beefed up body to do it.

Unless you're the "beefed up" one fussing over him.. He doesn't mind it when it's you. In fact, Kokichi feels grateful when it's you, endeared even. He never feels belittled or pitiful when its you.. Only you.

Judging by how he treated panda for having the ability to interact with others in person despite being a cursed corpse, Kokichi has a number of insults and creative verbal abuse he's ready to spew out once someone tries getting a little too close to you. Scratch that, he's rude in general to those he isn't familiar with.

Kokichi has a lot of anger for those he deems ungrateful. What do you expect from someone who thought he was gonna rot in a bathtub for the rest of his life to do? Not harbor resentment? Luckily, he holds just as much, if not more, love for you who he's unbelievably grateful for!

Your affection is so odd to him, a new experience that he never knew he could grow to yearn for. It's not terrible, quite the opposite. It's so wonderful he can't get enough. Every time you're around, he wants to have at least one hand on you at all times. Doesn't matter where, just as long as he feels you're around. Safe to say, he's extremely touch starved.

Oh how Kokichi would drop everything for a walk with you. He'd use every Mechamaru he had just to make sure no one disturbs either of you. Murder is just a side effect if they get too persistent. He just wants to spend time with you!

Though he likes walks, he still gets out of breath easily. Walking is nice, but he still needs time to get used to it. Offering to help will only cause him to lean against you, it's not too difficult, he doesn't weigh much for better or worse. He loves when you lend him a hand, it's just another reason to get close to you.

When you part, it's only natural that Kokichi gifts you a little trinket he made. Rejecting it will only reward you with the most devastated frown, so just accept it. If you get rid of it when coming home, it somehow always finds its way back to you? Destroying it will lead to Kokichi giving you another one.

Yes, it follows and watches you, but it's just to keep you safe! Who knows what could happen. Whether or not the little trinkets are subtle, all depends on how you reacted to him asking if it was alright to know your location at all times when he's not around. Kokichi is understanding if you're not okay with it. He'll just make his gifts extra subtle so you wont know he's watching.

He just wants to be by your side constantly, even if he's not able to be there in person. Watching you through a screen gives him a sickly familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach, but it's better than not knowing what you're doing. He can even pick up little things about you this way for when he sees you next time! This is nothing but a win-win in his mind even if others beg to differ.

Kokichi never felt blessed. Not once since the day he was born, not until he found you. You who he feels is truly a gift from the heavens. You who he would give up everything to have. In a way, Kokichi is delusional. He sees you as the reason he got a heavenly restriction. It was as if other worldly forces tried to keep him at bay from pursuing you, but you're also the reason he broke his restrictions. He now has the body he wished for thanks to you, his drive, his motivation, his purpose, his love.

[extra shit]

Kokichi’s so fucking low key about being a chuunibyou. you're telling me he named his mech after an anime he watched. half his attacks have ultimate or ultra in the name.. HE MADE A FUCKING MECH. Your ass can't tell me he didn't watch anime while growing up and got inspired to make it a reality. He probably watched Evangelion or something.. Woah, anime dates with him where he makes your favorite creature and uses it to his advantage.. woah.

[Bonus Kokichi verbal abuse]

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #kokichi muta #muta kokichi #kokichi muta x reader #muta kokichi x reader #mechamaru #mechamaru x reader #jjk x reader #welcome mob kun to the cult.. im so sorry that you have to be our sacrificial lamb to these psycho's bullying #tl;dr kokichi is a little shy bc everythin is new but hes still open to everythin. hes just an obsessive freak for you ykyk #i love kokichi.......... dont you love him?? hes so good bro #can you see how hard im snorting copium to make up my au where hes alive #i had to put some yan into him BUT LISTEN TO ME IM NOT EVEN TRYING TO MAKE HIM A FREAK BRO #HES LITERALLY JUST LIKE THAT AND ITS SUCH A SHAME ITS NOT USED MORE #“there was someone who i loved. and i didnt care what happened to the world as long as i could be by her side and protect her”#“even if that girl didnt want me to be the one to protect her.”#HE WAS DOWN TO SACRIFICE THE WORLD?? MF HUH?? YOU WERE GONNA BETRAY EVERYONE BC YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD FIGHT. WIN. AND FIX IT??#AND YOU WOULD FR STILL BE THERE EVEN IF THE ONE YOU LOVED DIDNT LIKE YOU BACK???#DUDE?????#WHAT THE FCUK KOKICHI WHAT THE FUCKKKKK #ong idk if theres a handful of kokichi enjoyers out there or its one person asking for him specifically but i see you...#i'll feed you my starving cult member.....#THIS IS THE ONE I POSTED ON ACCIDENT SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY AND MISHAP ANON. I LOVE YOU.#shout out to salsamander who caught me slacking #im not sorry for the LowTierGod reference #null rot

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ozarkthedog · 11 months

Text

summary: despite your reluctance, joel wants to fill you up.

kinktober ii: cnc + breeding

warnings: 18+ only -> mdni. Joel Miller x afab!reader. consensual non consent. threat of breeding. rough sex. asphyxiation. slight mention of aftercare. no beta.

word count: 1.2k

author’s note: per this post and @thornsnvultures sliding into my DMs with this thot. probably not my best but i'm posting it anyways. 🤷‍♀️

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ♁ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

He missed the power. The control. The brutality.

The topic had been discussed only once but the point was clear. Joel did not want to raise a child in this new, horrific world.

Settling down in Jackson with you had been good for him. The boring monotony of day-to-day life. It wasn’t just surviving. It was making something out of nothing, growing together. Helping your fellow man; not just stealing from him (or worse).

Still, that unsettling need would return from time to time. It’d take root in the base of his skull like one of the countless bullets he’d left in his victims. The savagery beckoned him like a gnat scratching at the surface. The urge to claim sinking its fangs in once again.

Normally he’d go on a long hunt. Seek out unseemly folk and leave a path of destruction in his wake. This morning, however, a storm brewed outside. The windows glitter with a layer of frost as the wind howls through Jackson.

You flinch awake. Trepidation settling in your belly. You know this feeling. You’ve been here many times before. You’ll stay by Joel’s side until your last breath. So you do what you’ve both discussed; wait.

A brute hand forces you onto your front. A gasp falls from your lips as a heavy weight settles on your back. Your lungs seize under the pressure making blood pulse behind your eyes.

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Joel sneers. He drags the hook of his nose up the side of your face, smiling as you struggle to suck a breath in. “Got you right where I want cha’, pretty girl.”

You jab an elbow back hoping to clip his jaw but he easily cages in it a steely grip. He yanks your left arm out from under your body with a dark chuckle and roughly secures your wrist in one of his large palms.

“I like ‘em feisty.” he grits, dipping his head down and brushing his lips along the shell of your ear. “Gets my blood pumping” he drawls, a sick grin tugging at his lips. “and something else too.”

He shifts his weight, lessening the pressure on your upper body, and grids his hard cock against your ass. You instinctively twist in his grip, bucking your hips and tugging on his hold. Joel hollers above you, “Yeah, that’s it. Show me how tough you are, sweet girl.”

You whine, knowing there is no way out. He was much too strong. Still, it was part of the game.

“You know, it’ll be better for you if you just give in.” the warm, soothing words flutter into your brain calming your heart for just a brief moment.

You know what he’s capable of. You’ve seen the brutality, the rage but you also know about the quiet side. The way he holds your hand when you walk into town. The soft eyes he gives you when you cuddle into his side. The way he’s so tender with you when he cradles your face in his hands.

“Wanna fill you up.” Joel murmurs. Pulling your right knee up to your chest before sliding a large hand along the apex of your sex. “That’s my pretty pussy.” he groans as he drags a lazy finger up the slice of you. “Can never get enough of it.” he coos into your hair before kissing the top of your spine. “Of you.”

“Joel- no, please.” you whimper, shaking your head. “You can’t.”

He “tsks” behind you. A brute hand catches the back of your neck and digs his digits into the tender column. Warm breath brushes the shell of your ear as he leans in close. “You think you’re in a position to call the shots? Stupid girl.”

A gasp catches in your throat when he taps the heavy tip of his cock on your barely wet opening. He notches the bulbous crown just past your folds before sliding in ever so slowly. He takes his time filling you up. He wants this to last. Doesn’t want to know where he begins and you end.

Your core envelopes the weight and size of him. Molding around his thick length until you’re busting at the seams. “Thatta’ girl.” Joel grits through clenched teeth as your velvet walls make room for him. His cock brushes your cervix with a brazen kiss as he bottoms out making you wince.

His fingers dance cruelly on the crux of your mound, tugging on the hair that grows earning him a sharp cry before moving south. He circles your clit with expertise, knowing your body better than you did. A dense knot of unsavory pleasure forms in your belly, slowly growing tighter with every flick of his wrist.

He finally rocks his hips and the air punches from your lungs. He sets a constant motion, sawing his length in and out. In and out. From his bulbous tip to the soaked base of his shaft, he takes. He defiles.

Joel tugs your body close, wrapping his left arm around your font and splaying between your breasts effectively caging you against his broad form. “You feel so fuckin’ good, sweet girl.”

He grinds his cock deep after a weighty thrust, pushing his hips against the cushion of your ass. “Gonna fill you up.” he grunts, snapping his hips and pressing into the deepest part of you. “Make ya all round. Leave ya a drippin’ mess.”

Joel’s hips snap hard. It forces the air from your lungs and shakes your bones. If it weren’t for his hold you would’ve rolled to the other side of the bed.

A pathetic mewl tumbles from your lips, anxiety boiling over. “Joel, no!” you cry, praying he pulls out before it’s too late.

Without thinking, you toss your head back and catch the top of his brow, bruising his eye socket with a curt blow.

The room goes eerily still. The man behind you is deathly silent as your heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s trying to break free from your chest.

A heavy hand circles your neck and tugs you backward. Your neck is instantly constricted, barely allowing any air to pass by under his palm. He pins your head against his shoulder forming his large, powerful frame against your shivering one. “Wrong fuckin’ move.”

Ice runs up your spine, chilling your insides to the bone as his fingers press on your veins, seeking out the one that makes you comply every time you try to revolt.

"Just for that, I'm gonna keep fuckin' ya after I fill you up." he sneers. "Make sure it sticks."

Blood pounds under your skin as the room spins. Your sight glazes over while he shoves his cock past your walls as they involuntarily clench around his girth from the rough treatment.

His cock swells, bigger and bigger with every drive. “Shit.” he hisses, clutching your throat just a bit tighter as his hips stutter. A black mist slowly begins to crowd your sight, your eyes roll backward, mind and body go numb.

In a flash, he loosens his grip on your neck and pulls from your warmth, circling his shiny, soaked cock with a tight grip. He pumps his length, chasing his high before coming with a raspy moan and spilling hot ropes along the curve of your ass.

A heavy blanket of silence falls over the room while Joel catches his breath. He feels the rage melting away as his heart slowly beats to its usual rhythm. That all-consuming need has been stamped out. For now.

In a moment, he’ll scoop you into his arms and leave a soft kiss on the crown of your head. He’ll hum words of love while you relax against his chest and eventually fall back to sleep.

You close your eyes and wait like you always do.

running away now. 😅 feel free to scream at me -> 💌

follow @ozzieslibrary for fic notifs!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miler x you #dark!joel miller #pedro pascal

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silverzoomies · 6 months

Text

Summer Wind

tate langdon x reader smut

warnings: existential crisis, death, afterlife, implied/referenced character death, murder, angst, aged-up tate langdon, fingering, fingerfucking, kissing, canon divergence

word count: 4,690

a/n: another drabble. y'know that thing people do sometimes? where they "age-up" a character, but don't really age them up? i initially wrote this in response to that. but it somehow turned into a means of venting my existential terror instead. i was gonna include more smut. but tbh i didn't feel right about it. this one's gonna stay unfinished. sorry about the abrupt ending !!

inspired by the song summer wind by frank sinatra

You were dead for an indiscernible span of time.

You couldn't be sure how long. But you suspected a few years, at least. Through one of the top floor windows of your eternal purgatory; you watched the trees. Nature alternated between skeletal displays of branches, to vibrant arrays of color. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming again. Rinse and repeat.

Once you accepted your fate, things started clicking into place. Trapped in a vintage hotbox of murder, you put together the pieces of a long lost puzzle. And though some parts were still absent, you pushed yourself to move on. You might never figure out how you died, or who you were before. But to worry so much would be senseless at this point.

Through acceptance, you began to feel again. If only in small bursts. Abrupt, but worth cherishing.

One memory remained ever present. You had the sense you were a school guidance counselor in life. And in death, you took up the mantle again. Offering your services to the other souls lost in the house. One of the ghostly residents shared a similar occupation. Way back in his breathing years. He didn’t do it so much anymore. Instead, he spent time with his family, working towards redemption for his past actions.

You steered clear of most residents, fearful of their unpredictable episodes of bloodlust. They allowed the evil within the house to lure them further into madness. On the days they came to you for your services, you spoke to them in hopes they’d find absolution. Change in the afterlife was extremely difficult to achieve. Your 'clients' rarely ever scratched the surface of their tainted psyches. And any progress they made, they always resorted to their old habits in the end.

Only one of them ever found true change. Of course, he had to be the most wretched of them all.

You once felt sympathy for Tate, making excuses on his behalf. In the years when his heart still pumped blood through his veins; he was young. Misguided. Perhaps the pressures of his upbringing took too much of a toll on him. And in the afterlife, he suffered under the influence of the house itself. The evil buried deep within channeled through his broken soul.

But if such an evil did exist, it never took hold of you. Nor did it sink its venomous teeth into Violet, or her innocent mother, or that pure of heart baby, or even Ben Harmon himself - sinful a man as he was. They resisted, and so did you.

Tate was pure evil. Carnage incarnate. Maybe that made him susceptible to the influence of dark forces. But after talking with him for a few years, you accepted him for what he was. Foul from birth, deplorable in death. No matter how often you tried guiding him to goodness, he remained forever loathsome. The evil in him burned eternally, needing no kindling.

His own acceptance of that fact allowed him to change. In a more physical way, much like Moira. Tate embraced his fate, convinced the house was where he belonged. A punishment until the end of all things. Simultaneously, a safe haven from whatever lay in waiting after purgatory. Tate’s progress was very much real. Albeit, not the kind you aimed for.

You could see his growth in his features, rather than his morals. Sitting across from you during another weekly session, Tate fidgeted with a frayed hole in his jeans. With his blond brows creased, he stared down at the denim. As you watched him like this, you picked apart his finer details. Where his skin once beamed with the pale, ghostly image of youth; creases were now etched in. Faint, but noticeable lines curved under his eyes.

An aura of maturity emanated from him like a light much too dim. Tate carried the same mannerisms from his heyday - if one could even call it that. But he had long since graduated from his mentality of that era. Tate spoke of his past actions as if he regretted them, though you suspected he felt no real remorse. He used to cry all the time. He used to throw childish tantrums. But you couldn’t remember the last time you saw his soulless, black eyes water. Now…

He carried nothing but cold desolation. Common amongst those trapped in perpetual limbo.

“I saw her again today.” He admitted, his lidded eyes flitting up to meet yours, “She hasn’t changed any. Not like me. Not like…” Tate made a gesture at his face, his thumb grazing the angular shape of his jaw. Tiredly, he blinked, “Not like this. Fate’s a funny thing, isn’t it? I always thought we were fated to be together forever, but…”

On the sofa across from him, you kept your cheek perched in a hand. As you scribbled in your notebook, you took note of the way Tate’s features bled misery. All at the mention of her. It must have been painful for him, watching her stay the same. While he finally outgrew himself. Those changes only further separated the two of them. Obliterating any chance he had to make amends. If there ever was.

There especially wouldn’t be now. Even Tate was on the tailend of coming to terms with it.

“How’d it make you feel this time around?” You pressed in a soft tone, shifting on the couch. His dark hues zeroed in on your thighs, bare in a simple dress. The lining appeared cheap, glittering with sequins reminiscent of childhood nostalgia, “When you saw her?”

“Fuckin’...I dunno…” Tate put his face in his vascular hands, fingers curling into his hair, “She’s like a kid to me anymore. What am I supposed to think?”

“Maybe she’s content like that. In the same way you’re content the way you are now.” You shrugged, tenderly laughing, “Maybe teenage angst suits her that much.”

He shook his head, shifting from a criss cross position on the loveseat across from you. Bouncing a leg, Tate gave you a pointed look. His brows turned downward.

“We thought it fit me too, didn’t we? But look at me now."

You were. You were looking at him a lot. And he wasn't wrong. Teenage angst once paired well with Tate's immature nature. Back when he thought like a kid, and acted on impulse. These days, he'd become more lethargic. When he wasn’t consumed with blood lust. Rugged virility was his partner now. Coupled with the melancholy existentialism of a man pushing thirty.

“You wanted to move on.” You clarified, your teeth clicking the edge of a pen at your lips.

“Did I?” Tate bitterly laughed, the empty vacuums of his eyes caught your tongue in motion, “Doesn't seem like anyone else here wants to. ‘Cept Moira.”

“Well, they only think they can’t. They believe they’re tethered here, frozen in time at their moment of death. I used to think growth was impossible too. Until you…”

You took in his masculine features again. The scruff around his chin. So fair, and not too noticeable. Catching yourself in the midst of ogling him, you redirected your gaze to Tate’s eyes. Imposing. Starless. Easy to get lost in. He wasn’t ignorant to your attraction. A hint of grin pulled into his laugh lines and dimples.

“Does it scare you?” He asked, “What’s your excuse then?” Tate threw a condescending nod of his head, “If you’re so enlightened. If you know better than all of us - with your morals ‘n bullshit like that. Why haven’t you changed any since you died?"

Shrugging, you looked bashfully down at your notes.

“Why would I want to? If I can stay young for eternity. If I can keep these curves, and what’s left of my youth. What’s the point in growing older?” You admitted in truth.

“That’s a little superficial though, isn’t it?” Tate leaned back into the loveseat cushions, “Shit like that doesn’t matter here. Who are you tryna impress? And what’s anybody living gonna think? When they meet you, and find out you’re nothin’ but food for maggots now.” He teased, legs spread, one knee bouncing, “There’s gotta be another reason you haven’t moved on. You’re not like us. I dunno why you and the Harmons don’t just…y’know…go.” He trailed off, his gaze falling to his lap.

You saw his bitterness return in full force. Another miserable wave of longing washed over him. Yearning for something that didn’t exist anymore, and never would again.

“I…” You paused, doodling hasty flowers in your notebook. You avoided Tate’s eyes, “I wanna know how I died first. I wanna know who I was. Before I even consider moving on.”

Sinister acidity flashed through his vision, “Seriously? That’s what’s stopping you?” Tate huffed a harsh laugh, admitting without missing a beat, “You wanna know how you died? I’ll tell you. I stuck a knife in your back and stabbed you to death.” He confessed, monotone, “You know it too. You’ve known since we met. You’ve just been in denial this whole time.”

You sat up in an abrupt movement, scooting forward and tossing your notebook away.

“What?! What are you even talking ab-…I’ve been trying to figure this out for years, Tate! Years!” You threw out your hands, “You…you can’t be serious! Why would I be in denial about something like that??”

Tears of betrayal stung the corners of your eyes. Tate shrugged, seemingly unbothered. He crossed his arms, his eyes dark under the ridges of his brows.

“‘Cuz you feel bad for me. Or…uhm…you wanna feel bad for me.” He shrugged again, “Fuck if I know why. I’m the last guy you should have sympathy for.” Tate said, his black hues narrowing in thought.

“You didn’t…did you really stab me? Really? You’re not lying about that?” You almost shouted, clawing your fingers through your hair, “Please. Please tell me you’re lying!”

Tate appeared unfazed, ignoring you, “Do you love me or something? Is that why you’re so broken up about this?” He asked, desperate in his infinite search for validation.

“Why the fuck would you stab me?!” You shouted, full of wrathful turmoil.

You stood off the couch, surging toward him with your fists balled at your sides. Tate didn’t flinch. He pursed his lips, thoughtful again. With an insufferable aura of nonchalance, he shrugged once more.

“Wanted to.”

The blank emptiness in his expression told you everything you already knew. Tears streamed down your face, painting your cheeks and chin in damp threads.

“Where? Where did you stab me??”

Tate gestured with a nod of his head, towards the only window in the room. A summer breeze fluttered, catching the curtains in its dance. You wanted to find the radiant light of nature beautiful again. But it only served as a haunting reminder - the environment remained symbiotic with time. And you were forever left behind.

“Over there. By that window.” He said, watching you pad over to said window, the skirt of your dress fluttering.

The window. In the one room you always felt so drawn to, for reasons unknown. Now, you knew. Bracing your hands on the windowsill, you peered your head outside. Ghosting your skin, the air breathed an essence of life. Something you were no longer a part of. You used to be content with that fact. But now? Knowing your life was unfairly ripped from you, how could you ever move on? Your death wasn’t an accident. Nor had an irreversible illness seized your physical form. Just Tate.

His low voice droned from behind you and in your ear. A faint vibration followed, along with a presence at your back. You felt the soft texture of his sweater, but no body heat with it. One of his icy hands met your shoulder. He reached his other arm out. Tate pointed to a spot near the entrance gates.

“I didn’t wanna tell you. Because I didn’t wanna lose you too. But…” He paused for a beat, “It was on Halloween. Ten years or so years ago, I guess. I was gonna leave. Make my rounds. Y’know…like I used to. The house was-uh...up for grabs back then. You came up to the door. One of the kids here opened it for you. And you kinda...walked in. Tried lookin' for 'em. Wrong place, wrong time.” Tate lowered both his hands to yours, after sliding his fingers down the sides of your arms, “You were holdin’ hands with some kid the whole time. He had to be, like…seven? Eight? I don’t even remember what his costume was.” His lips curved in a grin, “But I still remember yours.”

Your fingers curled into the sill, scraping wood, indenting the paint.

Ten years.

“So, you stabbed me in front of a child?”

Another breeze blew by. The steady air picked up your dress with it, flitting delicate fabric. Glitter along the seams of it fell away, sparkling like microscopic crystallites in the wind. Tate’s long fingers drew patterns over the cold surface of your skin. Tracing infinity symbols onto your hands.

“Rapunzel.” He whispered, “That dress was kinda pretty on you. Sucks about all the blood.”

You remembered then. When death imbued you with unexpected consciousness, you wandered around the house in a blood-stained dress. And ever since, your afterlife wardrobe alternated only between dresses of similar styles. Always cheap fabrics. Decorated in craft materials. You assumed you must’ve loved playing dress up in life. The thought of perishing in a store bought Halloween costume never crossed your mind.

“Who was he?”

You sniffled, breath hitching without any need for oxygen. Tate brought a hand to your cheek, wiping away your tears. He loomed behind you. A cold-blooded apparition of your nightmares. His casual talk of violent depravity made your blood boil.

“Who, the kid?” He asked.

He lowered his hands to the sill. Looking out the window over your shoulder, Tate squinted in the sunlight.

“Yes! I don’t-” You burst into tears without warning, sobbing into your hands, “I-I don’t remember anything! Nothing! I had no idea…who was he??”

“Dunno…” he dropped his head, pressing his cheek to your hair, “I didn’t really stop to ask. He ran away. Right after I pushed you out of this window.”

“You pushed m-what?! You’re a fucking monster.” You whimpered. Wishing you could leap out and disappear with the oscillation of the wind, “You know you’re never getting out of here, don’t you? You’re never going to change, Tate. You’ll always be a monster.”

“Probably.” He droned, wrapping his arms around your middle. Pulling you closer, he added, “You’ll be stuck here too. If you don’t let go of that anger. If you let your rage consume you. All that bitterness and hatred. This house feeds off of it.” Another pause. He nuzzled the top of your head with his cheek, “Uhm…I know this won’t fix anything. But…I really am sorry I took your life from you.”

You huffed, staring teary eyed out the window. Taking in the vast, effervescent world you’d never be a part of - through the border that brought your demise.

“But I’m really stoked you’re here….’cuz it’s not as lonely with you around.” He admitted.

“I could always tell you to fuck off.” You choked, venomous in your revulsion.

“Yeah. You could. But you won’t.” He grabbed your arms with gentle hands, wheeling you around to face him. He took your tiny fingers in his palms. You refused to meet his eyes, “If you made me disappear, you wouldn’t have anybody.”

You decided to hit him where it hurt, strangling through tears, “I could always talk to Violet. She has such a good heart. Not like the rest of you. You’re all just…awful. So horrible and cruel!”

Tate clenched his jaw, dropping his forehead into yours.

“You’re right. She’s not.” He woefully mumbled, “How come I still miss her, huh? Been missin’ what we had for, like…forever. Now I’m pushin’ you away too. And you’re all I have left.”

“Maybe stop killing people, Tate?” You snuffed, tears catching your eyelashes. He wiped them away all the same, “Who knew death could be so miserable. I…I finally found out the one thing I’ve wanted to know after all these years. I thought a little closure might help me, but…” You cried, “I feel even more messed up.”

“Why? Do you love me?” He pressed with so little confidence, you felt he only said it to convince himself.

“I…” You hesitated, brows furrowed, “I cared about you. Even though you’re a lunatic. I wanted to give you a chance. But now…now I just want to shove you out this window like you did to me. I want to scream at you, Tate! I want to make you suffer! I want to-”

He shifted closer. Within this vicinity, his maturation became all the more clear. Your weeping hues glazed over the creases under his eyes. The blond bangs of his hair had thinned by a smidgen, losing its youthful shagginess. He was all fine lines and outward exhaustion. Had you met him like this in life, you’d think him a mere decade away from a mid-life crisis.

“Go ahead. If it helps. I don’t mind.” He reached down again, grabbing your hands and guiding them up to his chest, “Just let all that rage go…you can take it out on me.”

This was just another tactic of his. An attempt to appease you, in desperate hopes you’d forgive him. Still, you didn’t think twice. Whatever wrathful anguish you kept buried inside finally erupted. The soul crushing weight of loss tumbled down over you, sending you into a frenzy. You thrashed your arms, throwing your fists in shallow, but sharp strikes. Battering against Tate’s chest, you landed every blow - inspired by betrayal. He remained still, watching you with a hollow look.

Hits turned to scratches as your grief took hold of you. You clawed into Tate’s sweater, wailing, powerless to the pain of his disloyalty. Taken aback by your overwhelming emotions, you wondered how the afterlife could bring so much suffering. Tate wrapped his arms around you again, and you buried your nose in his sweater. Your sorrowful tears stained the stitching.

“I hate you. So much. So fucking much.” You whimpered.

“You said you cared about me.”

“I hate that I care about you.” You cried, sobbing into his sweater, “I-I want to hate you. I need to hate you. But you’re right. You’re fucking vile, and you’re right. If you were gone, I wouldn’t have anybody else.”

Shifting again, he tilted your head up with a cold hand under your chin. Tate stared down at you, weary with lonesome desolation. The endless monotony of purgatory brought forth nothing but turmoil. And that turmoil linked you both in all-consuming angst. When he dove in to kiss your lips, you allowed it. If only to feel something far less painful.

Tate hadn’t kissed anyone in over a decade. But he flowed naturally with you, wary of applying too much pressure. The last of your tears fell, and again, he wiped them away. Separation came slow, as he parted from your lips. He blinked, leering like he couldn’t believe you reciprocated. Another beat, and he dove in all over again.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Kissing in your ghostly state felt bleak as the dull air of winter. In the throes of lonesome yearning, death nuzzled death so intimately. You opened yourself up for him, moving back until you hit the windowsill. In your negligence, you sat on it. A calm, easy breeze enveloped your back, tickling your neck. His desirous kisses swallowed you in, his hands claiming your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his words weaving through every kiss.

Fate had yet to deliver you closeness of this kind. You couldn’t fathom how intimate connectedness might work in death. As Tate’s cold lips fell to your neck, the atmosphere between the two of you shifted. Something akin to the radiance of life saturated the air. Like the summer’s glow shining from outside. A few seconds more, and coldness turned to heat. Sensual heat.

“What does it feel like?” You asked, breathless without the need for air. You tipped your head back. Tate took this as an invitation to ravish more of you, “To make love after dying?”

The glossy warmth of his tongue painted gradual lines across your neck. He caressed you with a thumb, gliding the digit over your cheek. Under the newfound heat of his palm, you felt burning intensity. No one else brought you physical touch like this. Not since a time before you perished, so long ago.

All because of him.

“Feels kinda the same?” Tate muttered in a hushed voice. Capturing your lips again, he kissed you with cautious tenderness, “It’s a lot like being alive…from what I remember. Some of us get addicted to it. Like a drug. They suffer without it. Drives ‘em crazy.”

His forehead fell to yours once more, and Tate’s eyes fluttered shut. He continued stroking your cheek, cradling your face. As if you’d disappear once he let go. You noticed the way his chest heaved. Slowly, like his lungs were still infused with the essence of life. But when he moved in for another kiss, you felt no breath on your lips.

“Does it drive you crazy?” You whispered between kisses, “Do you suffer without it?”

“Not really.” He said, dragging his thumb over your lip, “Missed this, though. I miss it all the time.”

“What? Kissing?”

Tate nodded, blond brows creasing as his smile faded. For a beat or two more, he fell silent. Staring down into your eyes with all the liveliness of a barren void. You gazed into a cave-like abyss, lost with no light to guide you. Beckoned by the promise of something unseen.

“This feels…different…with you.” He whispered.

“Different how?” You shivered as his soft touches moved elsewhere, "Are you feeling guilty? Does it hurt? I hope it fucking hurts."

Dragging the tips of his fingers up and down your arms, he drew invisible lines with his nails. So careful. Like you’d shatter if he treated you too roughly. His palms settled over your hips, and again, he kissed you. Tate just couldn’t seem to stop doing so, even as you spoke to him with poison on your tongue.

“No. It’s warmer.” He squeezed your hips a little tighter, “Why…why’s it so warm with you?”

The initial kisses between you both were so frigid and lifeless. But now, somehow, so heated and real. You locked your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles. Inviting him forward, you loomed in the sill of the window. Your body tilted. In the arms of the summer’s air, you almost fell backwards. You had every reason to believe Tate would let you plummet.

But he didn’t. Not this time.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he kept you from slipping. Under your dress, his free hand sought the heat between your legs. His palm cradled warmth over thin cloth. Discreetly, he pressed the pads of his fingers to your sex over your panties. And the contact amplified a scorching fire within you. A vigor exceeding the bitterness of death.

You wondered if Tate had less experience than he claimed in therapy. It took him a few tries before he found your clit. His sizable fingers circled your little nub in easy motions. Drawing long, needy noises out of you. Silence lingered between you both in calm, but tense quiet. Until the rasp of his voice caught your attention.

“Do you feel this? Do you feel, like…anything?”

You whimpered in response - timid like a churchmouse - as wetness stained Tate’s fingers through fabric. Cotton once so pure and untouched became damp. He chuckled, the sinister rumble in his throat making your blood run cold. Until the warmth of desire lured you in before you could second guess yourself. Savoring the hot friction on your pussy, you allowed sin to taint your clarity.

"For you? No. Never. You're sick. You're twisted. You're-" You cut yourself off with another whimper, once Tate caressed you with more pressure.

“Oh, shit…” He hastily tugged your panties down your thighs. Cupping your bare cunt, he pressed firmly into your clit. Thick digits teased the blazing heat of your folds, “You do, don’t you?”

Tate’s fingers dipped into your slick valley, his digits predominantly larger than your own. You rolled your hips just a smidgen, careful not to lose your balance - lest you fall out the window. Again. Though, maybe a rough tumble onto the lawn would knock some sense back into your muddled head. His other arm stayed iron locked around your body, keeping you safe. He eased inside you with all the hesitance of a man out of practice.

"F-Fuck! Fuck this. Fuck you." You mumbled, hushed under airy moans.

Following the squeeze of pleasure in your core, came something you lost in the afterlife. You almost felt the pumping of your dead heart again. A ghostly sensation of life blossomed under your ribs. Warmth flowed through your veins in syrupy bliss. Cozy wind billowed from outside, tickling your skin. If you closed your eyes for long enough, basking in the ecstasy of true feeling - you might’ve believed you were somehow revived.

Flitting your lashes, your eyes gradually opened. The sunny glow of afternoon light painted Tate’s aged features, showering him in golden rays. An image far too heavenly for a cold-blooded monster birthed from sin. You looked lazily into his hues. A whirlpool of guilt intermingling with lifeless cruelty; all within his dusky eyes.

“Feels like…” He mumbled, clumsily nuzzling your clit with the pad of his thumb. Biting his lip, Tate stifled a groan. He buried his fingers to the knuckle in your cunt, “...like I can feel your blood pumping.” Adding a third digit, he stretched you open. Your walls made effortless room just for him. You whined, making him smirk, “Fuck, this is hot. You love it, huh?”

"No. No. No, I'd never! Not with you. I'm just-" You swallowed, feeling your cheeks burn, "It really does feel like-"

Post-mortem coldness became lost on you now. Left behind, alongside your broken hearted resentment. Instead, you were overcome with the lively spirit of beingness. The afterlife had been so unkind to you. For a decade now. It abandoned you to stew in the longevity of solitude. With no one but Tate to provide you true company. Bringing your hands up to his cheeks, you pulled him in for a kiss. Your fingers threaded through his blond locks. Winding your tongue sloppily with his, you whined.

"Make me cum." You asserted, your legs sealing tighter around him, "Make me cum, and I might forgive you."

A flash of vulnerable sweetness overtook Tate's face, his puppydog eyes lighting up. An almighty flood of euphoria built up to a radiant crescendo, as his digits fucked you into oblivion. You clamped around his fingers, squirming with such intensity - he almost lost his hold on you. Tranquility found you at the peak of your climax. A divine miracle. As you cried little pleas into Tate’s lips, you felt as though you grew angel’s wings. As if some ethereal being descended from the heavens themselves, stole you away, and led you to the golden gates.

As you shuddered, your paradisal tremors eventually subsided. Blissful nirvana faded, and the hollow nothingness of death’s touch came again. Outside, the world continued on in slow-moving seconds. And in the distant horizon, the sun began its steady fall into night. Tate’s nose brushed yours. Looming in so close, he withdrew his drenched digits from your pussy. Leaving even more forsaken emptiness behind.

“I could…do that kinda thing for you every day…if you wanted me to.” He whispered, peppering your forehead in kisses, “It feels really good, doesn’t it? Just…please don’t make me go away? Please…”

#tate langdon x reader #tate langdon x y/n #tate langdon x you #tate langdon #american horror story #ahs

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