#but i love their comments and i want to take them by the shoulders and hug them and shake them and tell them they are wonderful

[gracieheartspedro]

Dagger In The Heart

pairing: ellie williams x afab! reader

post about palestine - please be aware and know who your content comes from. this post informs you about the tlou writers and creators, as well as how to help the Palestinian people.

word count: 6.1k words

warnings: MINORS DNI!!! 18+ ty!!! abusive relationship mentioned, reader's bf is a cheating asshole, calls her names, makes comments about weight, talks of cheating, some lowkey cheating from reader, sharing clothes with ellie, ellie is 18+ but her age not specified, talks of hardly eating food at dinner, reader is a bit confused with her sexuality and wants to explore (which is fine!!! and normal!!!), wlw relations, pussy eating, fingering, tribbing, tattoos? lots of tattoos, dirty talk, reader being a bit desperate, getting caught (but not really), mentions of a strap, men being drunk and stupid. that's it. I think.

description: when you get the chance to meet your asshole boyfriend’s family, you take a liking to his sister, ellie. when a conversation about her tattoos turns into talks of what you’re really into, you can’t help but want to explore it more.

author’s note: hi girls, gays, and theys! I am so happy to be bringing this request to you. it was an anon request from july and I just suck at getting my life together to actually write. but here we are. FYI, I don't condone this behavior or cheating. anyway I hope you enjoy. I will also be putting this on my ao3 soon, so if you see it there, don't worry, it's just me (;

“You gotta chill, babe. Your anxiety is giving me anxiety.”

He was never very good with comforting you, so you bite back your snappy comment and just fake a smile.  

You had been dating your boyfriend Matt for almost a year. You two met in your college biology class and really bonded over your love for folk music and Greek food. He had kind eyes, mousy brown hair and the brightest smile you had ever seen. 

At first, you thought this was the best relationship you ever could ask for, but Matt grew distant after four months together. You didn’t know why, but his temper had shown itself one too many times. He fought with you constantly. He was quite jealous. You could never be seen with another boy without accusations of cheating. But every time you two argued, he always came back with an apology and a bouquet of flowers. You could not help but believe you could fix him. 

It had been 10 months, you had to brave meeting his family. Unlike you, his family lived two towns over and he visited them quite often. He was close to his younger brother and mom, so he made a point to see them as much as he could. 

He brought up the idea of meeting them back around the holidays, but you were planning to board a flight and visit your family across the country. He understood but was pretty disappointed you could not try his mom’s infamous pumpkin pie.

You had no excuse when summer came. So here you are, standing with him at his childhood home’s front door as he scrambled to find his keys. 

You were sporting something more dressed up than your normal. Matt loved this one black dress on you, so you decided to wear that with some cute flats. You were sorely regretting the shoe decision, the pointed-toed shoes squeezed your big toe and the arch was not high enough to be comfortable. 

He unlocks the deadbolt and the red door jolts open. You are instantly met with the scent of BBQ and cornbread. His childhood is cozy and lived in. The entrance is lined with shoes, everything from high heels to sneakers that have run through countless puddles. It was a sigh of relief, they were a no-shoes in the house family. You kick off your uncomfortable shoes, holding on to Matt’s shoulder for balance. 

His mom is the first one to enter the hallway to meet you two at the door. She is quite beautiful, her hair darker than Matt’s. She was shorter, wearing a nice blouse and jeans. She welcomes you both with a bear hug and cheers of excitement. When she pulls you out of the embrace, she gets a better look at you. 

“You are more beautiful in person, pictures do not do your gorgeous smile justice,” She remarks, squeezing your hands. 

You shake your head, trying your best not to let out that you are beyond nervous about this entire encounter. “You are too kind, thank you so much for hosting us.”

“Come meet the crew!”

Matt eyes meet yours, noticing how tense you are. You had hoped for him to hold your hand and guide you through this experience, but instead he just nudges you with his shoulder. He brushes by, heading after his mom. 

The hallway opens into a kitchen and living room, which is littered with random strangers who, in some way, resemble your boyfriend. 

His brother, Collin, stands up first from the barstools, racing over to your boyfriend to dap him up. When he glances your way, you just smile and introduce yourself. He extends his hand to shake yours, which you gladly accept. 

His dad is next to stand up from a recliner in the living room. He makes your acquaintance quickly, telling you he’s so glad to finally meet you after months of hearing all about you. 

When he moves away from in front of you, she comes into focus. You had not even noticed her sitting on the couch across the room. 

She’s slender, her dark locks framing her chiseled jawline. She looks like Matt, but more like a person who belongs in a Renaissance painting. Her eyes are a more dimensional brown. She has freckles scattered around her pale complexion, which only added her beauty. 

You do not realize you are gawking until Matt nudges you. “This is my sister, Ellie.”

You blink again, bringing your focus back to the situation. She extends her hand, and that’s when you take notice to her tattoo-filled arms. Her tank top raises a bit and you catch a glance of her midriff, exposing more tattoos littering her abdomen. 

“Nice to meet ya. Heard plenty about you.”

You swallow, taking her hand and shaking it. “I hope good things.”

“No, I only tell her the worst things about you.”

Everyone giggles except you and Ellie. Luckily it is filling the room with enough noise to drown out your thoughts about your boyfriend’s beautiful sister. 

Ellie rolls her eyes before whispering, “Don’t worry, it’s only ever good things, sweet cheeks.”

-

Matt’s dad loves to talk and you can tell it annoys Ellie. You were seated outside on their patio set, drinking some homemade lemonade Matt’s mom was adamant you had. He was helping her with all the sides that were still yet to be made, so you took up Ellie’s offer to check out the backyard space. You did not expect Matt’s dad to come with you two and tell you all about the flower beds he curated. 

But you listened, smiling and nodding while sipping on your tart drink. 

He got occupied with grilling, so you and Ellie were left on the couch near a very used and abused firepit. 

You wait for her to say something. She was truly making you nervous, her eyes trailing you every so often. 

“So, you and Matt met in science class?”

You finally look back at her wandering eyes, “Yeah, he was my biology partner.”

“Gotcha,” She leans forward, putting her elbows on her knees. You do not know what comes over you, but you cannot physically pull your eyes away from her arms as they flex. “You good?”

“I like your tattoos,” You barely manage to say, “They are… hot.”

You want to jump into the unlit firepit for that one. 

No other adjective came to your horny mind? Really?

She giggles, enjoying watching you practically squirm under her gaze. “Thanks, dude. My ex girlfriend was a tattoo artist so I let her practice on me.”

You remember a moment about 5 months ago when Matt mentioned his sister being gay, but for some reason, you finally connect that duh it’s Ellie, you fucking idiot. 

You also remember some choice words he had about her. You remember cringing when he called her a slur and said she could not keep a girl to save her life. You held your tongue and refused to reply.

“That’s awesome,” You scoot closer to her, bridging more of the gap between you two on the couch, “Which one is your favorite?”

She smiles at your intrusion into her space and questions. You realize you two are almost sizing each other up, right in front of her family, your boyfriend’s family. They could easily peek outside of the kitchen windows and see you two eye fucking each other. She leans back, her eyes tracing all the tattoos on her arms. 

Then she laughs. A deep guttural laugh. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” She brings her front teeth down on her bottom lip before speaking up again, “It’s a tattoo I can’t show you.”

“Why not?”

She looks towards the window, checking on her brother and mom. Her expression changes when she turns back to you. 

“Because I’m not pulling my tits out in front of my family.”

Your pussy practically pulses when you hear her say it. What is wrong with you? You are dating her brother. What is wrong with you?!

“Your… boobs are tattooed?”

She nods slowly, bringing her one hand up to your bare exposed thigh, “Bet that shakes a sweet one like you to your core.”

The comment insinuates that you are an innocent little girl who knows nothing about the world. And sure Matt is your first real boyfriend. Sure he was the first person ever to eat you out because your high school crushes did not even know that was a thing. Sure you never have been sexually promiscuous. Sure you thought you were straight. 

Sure.

But something inside you was crawling its way out. This small interaction with your asshole boyfriend’s sister was enough to send you into a spiral. You never gave a girl a chance so how were you supposed to know you did not like it?

“What if your family wasn’t around?”

Ellie is gobsmacked by your comment, her jaw practically hitting the floor. You can tell she realized she was flying too close to the sun. She pulls her hand away from your leg. 

“You are my brother’s girlfriend. I am not going to be the one to corrupt you,” She states, scooting over a bit away from you. Your cheeks get flushed, instantly feeling embarrassed for asking such a question. But the more you sat in silence, the more you realized that you really did not care. The feelings Ellie made you feel within the last 10 minutes were more exciting than any feeling Matt had given you in 10 months. 

You clear your throat, “Luckily for you, Ellie, you would not be the one to corrupt me. That has already been done.”

She looks at you quizzically, “Is that so?”

“Yeah, I may look sweet and innocent,” You creep in close to her, “But I am really a freak.”

Now you are just lying. 

Before she can utter a word, Matt’s brother comes out to let you two know dinner was done. You hope and pray he didn’t take notice to how close you two were. Or how Ellie stared at your ass as you walked away. 

-

You sit between Matt and Ellie at the table. 

Every so often during the meal, you would place your hand on Matt’s leg. He would push you away, rolling his eyes when you glared at him. When the conversation came around to him, he would find a way to demean you and then continue blabbing about school or his internship. 

You answered questions from his mom and dad, but you were sorely uninterested in them. But then the conversation comes around as to whether you two would be staying the night tonight. At this point, Matt had already had four beers, and you knew he probably would not want you driving his new Mustang. 

“You can take Matt’s bed and he can sleep on the couch,” His mom suggests, indicating that you two would not be sleeping together. You understood that they were a bit more traditional, but you were not expecting to sleep in your boyfriend's childhood bed without him. 

“That’s a great idea, Ma. We can stay, right?”

You look at the plate of practically untouched food in front of you. You just nod, finally saying, “As long as you give me some comfy sweatpants to wear.”

“Mine are all back at my apartment, but I’m sure Ellie has something you could borrow. Plus, you probably wouldn’t fit my sweatpants.”

Matt constantly made comments about your figure and how he could not share clothes with you. He refused to share his clothes with you, stating that you would not be able to squeeze into them and you also “left your scent on everything”. 

God, he made you feel terrible about yourself. 

Butterflies erupt in your stomach when you think about wearing Ellie’s clothes, though, and you completely drown out the separate conversation happening around the table. You feel a hand creep up your thigh, but it's not coming from the side you expect.

Her hand is so soft and delicate as it creeps up your leg. You cannot help but glance at her direction, catching her smiling over at you. 

“Don’t worry, I got something you can wear.”

-

Dinner finishes up and Matt expresses that he wants to go for a round of drinks with his high school friends and brother at the local tavern down the street. He never asks if you want to go, telling you “It would just be high school friends that you don’t know, anyway.”

He tells you that his Mom and Ellie would get you all set up. He gives you a pat on the back, and heads to the door, right behind his brother. You watch him leave and almost breathe a sigh of relief. 

When you turn back, you see his Mom already going upstairs. 

“I’m gonna get your bed all set up and then I’m probably going to retire to my bed, too.” She states, slowly making her way up the wooden staircase. 

You wanted to scream because this only meant one thing. You were alone with Ellie. 

You follow her up the stairs and look around the hallway. She heads to the right and begins pointing at the only room with the light on. You didn’t even know that Ellie was upstairs.

“Have Ellie get you something to wear, I’ll make up your bed!”

The door swings open and Ellie stands there, having changed into her own bedtime clothes. And for fucks sake, she’s not making this easy for you. 

She is sporting a tight white tank, no bra, and shorts that ride up to the very tops of her thighs. Her legs are tattooed as well, but not as much as her arms. There isn’t a touch of her freckled skin that isn’t marked with art. You can almost see through her shirt, making your mouth go dry. 

“Let’s see what you fit into!”

She lets you into her space. Her room is decorated with posters of space and heavy metal bands. From the looks of one corner of her room, she’s an artist. She has different art styles, anywhere from charcoal to watercolors, littering a desk and her walls. It’s messy, but it’s not dirty. It smells like incense and clean laundry. 

She walks over to her dresser, opens up the top drawer. Everything is neatly folded, which kind of surprises you. 

“I have some sweatpants, shorts, boxers-“

“Sweatpants are fine,” You retort, not wanting her to list off anything else, “Do you have any t-shirts I could wear?”

“Well of course I do, sweet cheeks. What do you want, loose or tight?”

You stare at her dumbfounded. You know what she’s doing. And you hate yourself for liking it so much. 

She pulls out a pair of navy blue sweatpants, still waiting for your reply. 

“Loose.”

She starts to dig through another drawer when Matt’s mom pops her head in. 

“It’s all set up for you, sweetheart. If you need anything, you let one of us know. I’m going to downstairs if you need me.”

You smile, thankfully. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Williams.”

“If she needs anything, I’m sure I could help her find her way,” Ellie says, absentmindedly. She pulls out a white t-shirt from her drawer and tosses it at you. 

“Goodnight, girls!”

And then you two are alone. Ellie slowly saunters to her door and shuts it. 

“You can get dressed here. Just make sure what I gave you fits.”

You silently turned your back to her, tossing your hair over your shoulder. “Can you unzip me?”

You are not even thinking straight. You are so caught up with being alone with the girl you have had weird sexual tension with. She walks over to you confidently, before grabbing the top of your black dress, which lands right at the middle of your back. She pulls down the zipper, ensuring it reaches the very end of its track. 

The hairs on your back stand up in her wake. You breathe deeply, before shimmying the dress off your shoulders. You were wearing a bra, so you were just going to keep it on. You step out of the dress, leaving you in just underwear and the push-up bra Matt gifted you not too long ago. 

You don’t turn to her, but she just comes around to your front, nonchalantly. 

“Jesus Christ,” Ellie stammers, before plopping on her bed. You shakingly step into the sweatpants she gifted you to wear, unsure how to respond. You rack your brain trying to gain the confidence you had before dinner, but your mouth is dry and your brain is dazed from seeing Ellie in her pajamas. 

You finally manage to glance up at her hungry eyes, smiling softly. 

“I never knew I would be jealous of my brother.”

You swallow, “Jealous?”

“Yeah, he gets to have someone like you every night and I can’t even find someone worth hanging out with around here. Never thought a nerd like him would win over a woman like you.”

You are standing in the sweatpants and your bra, not able to digest her words completely. A woman like you?

“Your brother is sweet. And we don’t have sex every night.”

“Just sweet?” She steps a bit closer to you, “And I said nothing about sex, darling, I said he gets to have you.”

She is looking at you like you are her prey. You almost fell to your knees and begged her to put you out of your misery, but you resisted. Instead, she just stands up, trying to catch your nervous glances. 

“H-he, uh, does what he can, when we d-do, yanno.”

Her fingers trace up your arm, her eyes trailing as she does it. You bite the inside of your cheek, waiting for her response. She clicks her tongue a couple of times, shaking her head. 

“I am sure he tries,” She sputters, standing back from you, “Do you even really like him?”

You furrow your eyebrows, suddenly snapping out of the situation you are currently in. You reflect for a moment.

Matt was an asshole but you sometimes enjoyed his company. He made you laugh on occasion. But deep down, you knew that he wasn’t made for you. He lacked emotional intelligence and made sure to put you down any chance he got. You had inklings he was talking to other girls and his friends were probably the most intolerable people on your college campus. And then there was that one time when the inklings were just. 

The realization that you maybe didn’t like him made you sick. You wasted so much time and now you have met his family.

“When he’s not mean to me. When he isn’t cheating on me.” You admit quietly, almost too humiliated to say it. 

She crooks her neck, “He cheated on you?”

You hate talking about it, it made you feel as though you were never good enough. He made it out that it was your fault because you would not have sex with him when you had the flu. “It was just some hand stuff, baby,” he said to you. 

“Just once. I forgave him because he told me he loved me.”

“People who love you don’t hurt you like that,” Ellie says without a beat. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Is he mean to you all the time?”

You think back to the last nice thing he said to you. Your ass looks fat in that dress. And even that could be seen as a bad thing. You shake your head, trying to find a good way to paint her brother. From the looks of it, she doesn’t really like him all that much anyway. 

“Most of the time.”

“So, what I’m hearing is my brother is an asshole that doesn’t know how to treat a woman both in life and in the bedroom. Is that what you’re saying?”

You stand there pondering her question, coming up with nothing. She was right, but were you ready to admit that?

So you shrug.

Ellie stands with her arms crossed now, chewing on the inside of her lip. She’s contemplating something, her eyes falling to the floor for a moment. 

“Listen, I am not just saying this because it has taken everything in my power to resist sinking my teeth into you,” The first half of the sentence put your heart in your throat. Nonetheless, she carries on, “But I have an inkling that you don’t like my brother at all. I think you like girls and you’ve never had the chance to explore that. You want to say you are a freak, but you really don’t know what that even means.”

“Ellie, I d-”

“You need to break up with my brother,” She states plainly, “And then, after all is said and done, I can show what it looks like to be taken care of.”

You agree, sadly. You do need to break up with Matt. And on the basis that you believe that he’s probably at the bar hanging out with old friends, probably with other girls, probably flirting with those other girls. You decide you are not going to wait anymore. He cheated on you once, what’s stopping him now? Ellie was right about everything, and while that revelation changes your entire perspective on life, you settle on jumping head first. 

“Show me now.”

You watch all the blood drain from her face. She fumbles with her inked hands, waiting for you to say you didn’t mean it. That moment never comes. 

“Are you sure about that?”

Swallowing hard, you just nod. You do not even realize what you are getting yourself into, but the undeniable chemistry cannot be ignored anymore. You don’t even want to waste another thought on Matt. You know if you think too hard about it, you’ll talk yourself back into staying with him.

Ellie’s face gets closer to yours and your lips connect seamlessly. She wastes no time, bringing her hands down to your waist to pull you in. You wrap your arms around her neck while fireworks erupt in your chest.

Her lips taste like mint and a dab pen your college roommate made you hit a couple of months ago. She was borderline intoxicating. 

She backs you up towards her bed, letting your knees hit the edge of the mattress. You plop down, disconnecting from her lips. 

Through hooded lids, she asks you, “Do you want to see my favorite tattoo, then?”

Your breathing hitches as she does not even wait for a response, she just pulls her tank top over her head.

Each piece is connected somehow. Her stomach piece is what appeared to be a dragon flying up towards her under-boob area. It was extremely detailed and took up a large half of her upper stomach. Around her collarbones were very intricate lines that almost rain over her body like veins. They spread down her chest onto her boobs, where around her nipples were two matching daggers appearing to go through her areola. 

You smirk at the idea that these are her favorite tattoos. The cheeky ones around her tits.

“Holy shit, Ellie.”

You reach out and touch her tits, ever so delicately. You use your finger to outline the daggers, smiling to yourself. 

Being this close sends a pulsating feeling down to your pussy. You have never felt a lightning strike quite like it before. 

She’s letting you feel her up, but when you change your tune and start pinching at her nipples, she throws her head back with a groan.

“Hmm, you should try putting one in your mouth,” She remarks, hoping to God you would be eager enough to do so. She was very in tune with you because you leaned forward taking her right nipple into your mouth. She’s guiding you around every turn, whispering how good you are doing already. 

You release her with a pop and sit back. You reach around to release your own, but she stops you. 

“Lemme do it,” She says mounting your lap. You place your hand on her hips while she runs her fingertips across your back. She unhooks your black bra, letting your tits spill out. 

You feel the tops of your hands stand up as soon as her hands begin to knead your tits. You glance down at her movements, watching your sensitive nipples perk up due to the attention she’s giving them. 

“Mmm, you like that, sweetness?”

You just groan, your lips needing to do more than just talk. You pull Ellie’s ajar mouth down to yours, diving your tongue between her teeth. You never had such a hunger for anyone else. No guy ever made you feel this way. 

She nudges your shoulders, having you fall onto your back. Her lips move away from yours and start to trail down your neck and chest. When her wet mouth touches your tits, you cannot control the sounds that leave your throat. She bites down on your supple skin, which makes you groan more. 

“You gotta quiet down a bit. Don’t need anyone hearing us.”

You try to manage your noises, but as soon as she starts to kiss down to the hem of the sweatpants she loaned you, you know you’ll never be quiet like she needs you to be. She tugs at the waistband, taking your underwear with it. 

You are now butt naked on her bed. And god, the air is hitting the wetness between your legs is titillating. 

“Listen, sweets,” She whispers, palming your thighs with her tattooed hands, “I’m going to make you cum on my tongue first. Then I am going to fuck this pussy so good, you won’t know any other cock but the fake one in my side table. You hear me?”

Your stomach is in knots, but you know that this is what you really want. “Okay, Ellie. Please do whatever you think I will like.”

“You’re gonna like it all, baby girl. And if it gets a bit dodgy, you just let me know and we can stop.”

You shake your head positively as she smiles between your legs. She starts by kissing up your thighs, keeping you completely in a trance. When her mouth finds your slit, she licks a long stripe. She takes her time, working her tongue in between your pussy lips. The wet sound that happens when she shakes her head is pornographic. When she finds your clit, she encases it and starts to suck lightly. You scream out in pleasure, never feeling this sensitive before. It usually took a whole lot of Matt lazily fingering you and fucking you to illicit such a response. Ellie is building up an orgasm within you in record time. 

She uses her fingers to open up your pussy a little bit more. You instinctively want to close your legs, but her left arm has your legs locked on her bed. Her middle and index fingers curl inside you with every motion forward. 

Her eyes are closed and you are laser-focused on her expressions. She’s putting her all into making you feel good and it’s relieving to watch someone put so much care into it. 

You notice the small little freckles that scatter across her nose get lighter as they reach her cheekbones. She’s so fucking pretty. 

“Jesus, you’re doin’ so good sweetheart. You feel so good.”

“Oh my god, Ellie, please don’t stop,” Your voice is strained, begging her to continue fucking you. She chuckles and begins to pick up speed. Your mind is cluttered, unsure how you can feel this good. 

When the peripherals of your vision begin to get white, you know it’s over. She latches her lips back onto your clit, humming to drag the orgasm out of you. When it happens, your deep guttural moans get muffled by her palm.

You think your heart is going to stop beating. 

Once you begin to feel your muscles relax, Ellie is crawling on top of you, hovering over your chest, her lips kissing your collarbones.

“You did such a great job, baby girl,” She dotes, her short hair falling across her forehead, “You’re so fuckin’ sexy.”

Your heart swells up a thousand sizes. You never got called that before, let alone felt sexy. But Ellie had this aura to her. She made you feel sexy, desirable, wanted. 

Your hand reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear, “Please show me more.”

She nods, before she leans back on her knees. She balances on one leg before shoving her pajama shorts down. The ink travels to every part of her body and you wonder if the ones around her hips hurt. The snakes that travel up her thighs, have their heads resting right on her hip bones. 

You sit up and observe her movements, she’s fumbling with something in her drawer. She seemingly cannot find what she’s looking for and slams it shut. 

“How about this,” She says with a huff, “I want you to see what it feels like to grind that pretty little pussy on mine anyway. The strap will have to wait.”

You feel the blood drain from your face, “The strap?”

She giggles at your not-so-faux innocence. “We will try that next time.”

You aren’t ready for her to grab onto your legs and move you like a rag doll around her bed. She rests her body horizontally from yours, her lower half lining up with yours. You were not sure how this worked, but you had heard of scissoring before. The technicality was lost on you. 

You sit up waiting for instruction, but Ellie is so hypnotized by your wet slit, she doesn’t even look at you. You watch her reach out and touch your dripping center and it sends an electric shock down your limbs. You throw your head back, hissing at the action. 

“God, that cunt is so pretty.”

You finally look back at her, wanting nothing more but to fuck her like she fucked you. So in return for her toying with you, you hastily reach out and touch her pussy. You are confused by what to do, but by her reaction, you know you did something right. 

“Tell me what we are doing,” You beg, closing your legs in closer to hers. She nods, watching your fingers pull apart her pussy lips. 

“Pull your cunt against mine and ride me like you’d ride Matt’s dick.”

You halt your movements, “Ride him?”

“You’ve never ridden him before?”

Your response was your silence. You had never explored much with him, simply because he was quick to get his nut before traversing to other territories. 

She helps you sit up, hover your cunt over hers. You can not lie, the sight of her sticky wet pussy was hot. She guides you down so your mound is on hers. She bites her lip as you practically drool watching your purely untouched body against her painted figure. 

“Now move your hips back,” Her hands are gripping onto your hips, showing you the way, “And forth.”

The friction is immediately overstimulating, but it feels like an itch you’ve never scratched. So fucking delicious. 

“Shit…” You groan at the response your body is giving you.

“Practice makes perfect, baby. Keep moving those hips. 

You have never been on top, but it’s almost freeing to be in control of the movements. You weren’t sure what you should grip onto as you rubbed your pussy against hers, so you grip onto your own shoulders. Your hips gyrate, the slickness between your legs starts trailing down to Ellie’s navy blue sheets. 

“God, this pussy is so fucking perfect,” Ellie says through gritted teeth. She holds down your hips, somehow trying to get you closer to her.

“It’s yours.” You whine, letting the lust take over your speech. You had no clue what that meant for this situation, you just knew that Ellie knew how to fuck you and it was bliss. You hands leave your shoulders and eventually find Ellie’s tits.

“This pussy is mine? The first cunt you fuck is the cunt you fuck forever?”

You want to laugh, but the bubble in your stomach is about to burst already with how fucked out of your mind you are. “If the cunt is yours, then yes. I want this forever.”

Ellie sucks on her two fingers before she reaches down, finding the very top of your cunt, and starts to press down on that sensitive little bud. The saliva only mixes with the messiness of your liquids. You squeeze her nipples in response. 

“Never going back to my stupid fuckin’ brother, hm? This pussy belongs to me.”

“Yes, Ellie, fuck!” 

She smiles at your quickening pace. She knows you’re reaching your breaking point, and she knows that she’s close herself. 

“Come for me, baby. Come all over my fuckin’ cunt.”

You jolt forward, your hips stilling over hers. You don’t know if you’ve felt a sensation quite like it. You had tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your body felt like a volcano erupting. The curses leaving Ellie’s lips as she came from your orgasm only added to the high you felt. You knew words were leaving your mouth, but they were just jumbled together strings of sentences. 

“Jesus Christ…”

“It feels so good…”

“I want this pussy forever…”

You fall over next to Ellie, your legs still intertwined with hers. She was trying to catch her breath, her body still jittery from her high. 

“That was per-”

“Babe!!”

Your stomach drops to your ass when you hear Matt’s voice.

You jump up from Ellie’s bed, finding the closest clothes you can grab at. Ellie does the same, but takes her time throwing a tank top over her bed head. His footsteps are practically running up the steps. 

You are still wobbly on your legs, practically falling over trying to put on the pants she loaned you. You just keep saying “fuck” over and over again, knowing that you two will probably be caught. You just finished putting on a shirt when he barges into the room. 

He’s drunk. 

“What are you still doing in here?” He asks you in an accusatory slurred voice. Collin is close behind him, trying to shush him.

“Chill, dude. I was just showin’ her some of my art.” Ellie defends, plopping down on her bed. She’s trying to mask the fact that her bed is wet with your cum. 

While he blabs about how Ellie sucks at art, which he is very wrong about, you notice a red blotch on his shirt collar. You zero in on it because you fucking knew. 

“Matt, what’s on your neck?” You interrupt.

He stops his rant to look down at you. His eyes are bloodshot. He’s so gone that his mind can’t make up an excuse. 

“It’s from Sophie,” He blurts out, his lips getting ahead of his brain. Ellie pauses and the entire room goes dead silent. You had no idea what to say back to that. You had no clue who Sophie was. You honestly did not care, your relationship was already done in your head. You were just kind of shell-shocked that it happened exactly how your mind doctored it.  

You glance over at Ellie who is already looking at you. Collin clears his throat. 

“I think this a conversation for the morning,” Collin says, grabbing Matt’s arm to tug him out of the room. 

You nod, “Yeah, Collin, great idea. Why don’t you take Matt to bed? Tuck him in and give him a sweet kiss like Sophie did.”

Matt’s face turns bright red, the same thing it always did when he got mad at you. Before he could lash out at you, Collin drags him out of the room and into the hall. Before shutting the door behind him, he says, “I’m sorry.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “It’s fine. It’s not the first time. But it will be the last.”

When the door clicks shut, you hear Matt whisper yelling at Collin about how big of a bitch you are. How you didn’t deserve him. Yadda-yadda-yadda. 

Ellie just gawks at you. The tone of the room changed so drastically so quickly that you felt almost disconnected from reality. 

“You okay?” She asks innocently, her hand holding onto your shoulder. 

Your legs are still weak. “Yeah, I think I’ll need more practice though.”

She is confused, you can tell by the look on her face. “Huh?”

“I’ll need more practice riding you. And, hey, you didn’t get to use that fake dick on me, remember?”

-

taglist (for those who said they wanted this haha)

@cavillscurls @satellitespinner @mourningdovee @hockeyhughes @stonerzdaze420692 @00ops1e @sunflowerwinds @holilogram @whoucallingalesbian @aurelialuna

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

devotion. l General Marcus Acacius

Summary:  he returned to Rome in glory, he returned to you

Warnings:  smut, angst, unprotected sex (don't do it!), fingering, mention of pregnancy, a few nasty words

A/N: that was a quick shot. i hope you'll be gentle with me. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

You saw perfectly how his brown eyes widened when he saw you in the crowd of guests in the Emperor's palace. The golden wreath on his curly dark hair, the sun-kissed body dressed in white and gold - he looked like one of the Gods you could worship in a temple. 

And wasn't he one of them? One of those legendary heroes? The one who brought glory to the Roman Empire. One of your Emperor's favorites.

Wasn't he the man you had loved for so long?

When he crossed the threshold of your home late in the evening, you could finally fall into each other's arms. In that moment, he was your Marcus, the man you loved more than life, to whom you had promised loyalty, to whom you had promised eternal devotion and faithfulness.

His warm, plush lips crushed against yours in a kiss full of longing and love that you had to keep so far from each other. Strong arms wrapped around you like vines, but you clung to him with your whole body, yearning for his closeness so much.

"Almost four years..." he sighed as he rested his forehead against yours "I counted every day, my love. And every day was unimaginable torture."

Your hand stroked his bearded cheek "I knew you would return. The Gods promised to give you back to me, and here you are. Safe and sound." Your fingers tenderly stroked the scar on his cheek, slipping into his hair interwoven with silver threads "I can't believe you're finally here."

Marcus' hands tightened around your waist "Tell me you're not just a beautiful dream..."

"I'm here, my love." You whispered, tenderly touching his lips "All yours." He pressed his lips to yours as if he had to make sure that you weren't a dream, laughing, you pulled away from him slightly "Marcus, we need to talk, so much has happened..."

"We have the whole next day, our whole lives for this. Please... Let's not talk tonight. I want to love you, adore you, caress your body." He sounded like a man possessed, hungry for your body "I need to remind myself of every curve of your body. I want to taste you and immerse myself in your sweetness. I beg you, my beloved..."

You couldn't refuse him, you didn't want to. The dream of the warmth and closeness of his body had haunted you almost since he left for that cursed war. You couldn't wait any longer.

The heavy door of your chamber closed, and after a moment you were both taking off your robes. Hands craving a familiar touch, lips searching for each other. Hot lips wandered around your neck when you felt the cool sheet under your fingers. Marcus raised himself on his shoulders, his dark as night eyes roaming your body.

"Give me a moment..." he said as you tried to pull him closer to you. "You're more beautiful than I remember you."

You laughed quietly, a little embarrassed by his confession. "I'm definitely older."

"As am I. But to me you'll always be equal to the goddesses."

"Don't say that, Marcus. Don't incur the wrath of the Gods, they can be jealous."

A mocking smile appeared on his face. "I'm not afraid! The earth could open up beneath me and swallow me alive, but I won't stop repeating it. You are a goddess, my love. I dedicate my life to serving you. Only you."

"Then do it. Use your body and all your strength to do it."

You didn't have to repeat it twice. Your lips connected again in a strong and deep kiss. His tongue invaded between your lips, extracting from you those sweet moans that returned to him during sleepless nights. 

His hard cock rested on your thigh, and you felt excitement and fear, it had been so long since you felt him inside but  you wanted him so much.

Marcus' lips slid down to your sternum, then your breast. He kissed it and bit it lightly, despite the time he still remembered everything that made your body tremble. When the nipple disappeared in his mouth you felt your walls tighten slightly, giving you a signal that you couldn't wait any longer. But it was Marcus who dominated you, doing whatever he wanted with your body.

When his long fingers moved over your slippery folds you moaned shamelessly.

"So thirsty..." he whispered, his lips brushing your belly "Let me prepare you first, love. Let me..." two fingers slid inside you with incredible ease, all the way to his knuckles "I've got you."

Your body arched like a string, the stretch felt so good. Marcus pulled his fingers out and after a moment he pushed them back in, watching your reaction with great pleasure.

"If you could see it." he kissed the inside of your thigh tenderly "So hungry, so greedy."

"Harder..." you moaned, grabbing his wrist and trying to take control, but he wouldn't let you.

He grabbed yours with his other hand, quickly brushed it with his lips, and then his fingers started moving faster and harder. You heard that lewd sound that showed how wet you were and how your body reacted to his caresses.

"Give me everything. Cum on my fingers, love." Marcus panted, feeling his hard cock throb at the sight of your body. "Don't torture yourself like that, love. Cum."

And you did. Your thighs clenched as a shiver of pleasure ran through your body, and a sweet moan escaped your throat. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling your head buzzing, but suddenly Marcus took control again. 

His strong arms spread your thighs, and his hard cock slid inside you without warning. You lost your breath. Your eyes rolled back under your eyelids, and when his strong body pinned you to the bed, you knew there was no escape.

"Fuck..." he moaned loudly, dazed by the feeling. "You're so tight, so warm..."

"Marcus... I feel like you're going to tear me apart..." you moaned, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. "Gods!"

"Don't summon them, love." he mumbled quietly, brushing your lips "They'll be jealous of us."

His hand grabbed your leg under the knee and he lifted it slightly, thrusting into you even deeper. You didn't know how on earth it was possible, but his cock seemed to dig into you even more with each thrust. 

His body, his strength intoxicated you. Your beloved transformed under your fingers into a barbarian who came to your bed just to fuck you and use your body as he wished.

You felt another orgasm building inside you and you wanted to tell him that, but in an instant Marcus lifted himself up. Without leaving you he pulled you with him and sat on his heels, you fell onto his thighs, impaling yourself on him even more.

Your arms wrapped around his neck tighter, fingers entangled in his hair as he lifted your body and used it as he wanted to, to get what he came for.

"I'm so close, so close." he breathed into your ear. "I want to feel you again, give it to me. Give it to me!"

As if on command, your body gave in. Your walls trembled and squeezed around his manhood, you clung to him tighter as he now pressed you hard and violently against his cock. But Marcus was close too and soon you felt his body tense up and he poured into you, filling you up with his warm seed.

You were both panting, your bodies still sweaty and hot. His heartbeat mixed with yours and no matter how many breaths you took, it still wasn't enough.

"You're definitely not a dream." he murmured, kissing your shoulder gently.

"How can you be so sure?" you giggled, looking fondly at his blissful face.

"The Gods would have to be incredibly cruel if they let me experience immortality with you and then ordered me to return to mortal life." his fingers tenderly stroked your back "You have to be real." 

You kissed him tenderly feeling indescribable love for this man. At the same time, however, a small flame of anxiety rose in your heart thinking about the upcoming day.

He was torn from his sleep by the quiet sound of the door closing, and then your footsteps on the stone floor. He lazily rubbed his eyelids and opened them, noticing you pouring yourself a glass of water.

"Why did you get dressed?" His voice was hoarse, and it gave you shivers "I didn't say I was done with you."

You smiled, walking over to the bed and sitting on its edge "You were done with me at least three times last night, General." you noticed, leaning down and kissing his soft lips "You should rest your loins."

"I'll rest after death. Right now, I just want to keep my cock between your thighs, where it belongs." he replied "I've been thinking about it for almost four years and I have no intention of giving you up now."

Marcus noticed the smile disappearing from your face, and your gaze wandered to the window open to the garden. He knew that look. Something was worrying you and occupying your mind.

He sat down on the bed, his hand tenderly stroking your arm. "What's wrong, my dear? Something's on your mind."

"Marcus... So much has happened since you left." You said quietly. "I don't even know where to start... It all scares me so much."

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Tell me, because I can see how much you're struggling."

He saw you nervously squeezing your fingers, and your eyes avoiding his gaze. Finally, you stood up and took a few steps. Marcus watched you carefully as he put on his robe, a strange fear growing in his heart. 

What if this was all just a dream? What if you tell him to wake up now?

You were already opening your mouth to say something when a commotion in the hallway and quick footsteps tore your attention away. The door opened wide and a small boy rushed into the room.

"Mommy!" he called, running up to you and wrapping his small arms around your legs. 

Right behind him, a woman in a servant's robe ran in, apologizing from the entrance. "My lady, he wanted to see you so much. I told him you had a guest, but he..."

"Nothing happened, Tullia." You replied, smiling faintly, clearly embarrassed. "Please, take him to the garden." You ran your fingers through the boy's dark, curly hair. "I'll see you in a moment, okay, little bug?"

The boy smiled and grabbed the servant's hand, gave Marcus a quick glance with his brown eyes, and left the room, leaving you in complete silence.

You could clearly feel the tension that had grown between you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, as if you wanted to hide, and looked up at Marcus. Surprise was written on his face. His dark eyebrows furrowed, and his jaw clenched. He stared at the door, and only your voice made him look at you.

"I didn't know how to tell you this..." you whispered "I've been planning this in my head for almost four years, and now I'm standing in front of you and I'm speechless."

"You're a mother." His voice was low, you nodded "All this time I thought you were waiting for me, and you..."

"Marcus, let me explain, please." You wanted to approach him, but he just raised his hand, and you froze.

He swallowed, and his dark eyes were fixed on you like daggers ready to attack "Before I left we promised each other... You promised me that you would wait for me. That you would be faithful to me."

"And I was." You groaned.

"Don't lie to me!" he roared, and you stepped back, scared "For four years I lived only thanks to the thought that you were waiting for me, that you loved me despite everything. And now? You promised me!"

"Let me explain, Marcus." Your eyes stung from the tears that were seeping into your eyelids. "You don't understand..."

He was like a beast locked in a cage. His eyes darkened and his hands clenched into fists. It was the first time he looked at you with such contempt and disappointment, and your heart was breaking with every passing second.

"I thought you were devoted to me. That you committed to waiting for me, if I knew you were just a whore..."

These words were the last straw that broke the camel's back. You suddenly straightened up and raised your head, looking at Marcus defiantly.

"Don't talk to me about commitment, devotion and loyalty when that's what I've been doing for four years." you said sharply, you saw that he opened his mouth, but this time you didn't let him get a word in. "I was pregnant when you left Rome with the army. For many months I hid it from my surroundings, but I still heard the whispers and gossip. I carried him under my heart, gave birth to him and I raised him alone, despite everything. Despite the lack of guarantee that you'll come back. So you have no right to talk to me about commitment and loyalty, or judge me without knowing everything! Julius is your son. You can either accept it or leave." 

Marcus looked as if you had stabbed him at that moment. There was silence and only the laughter coming from the garden tore you out of this freeze. The General approached the door leading to the garden. Between the bushes and flowers he saw the silhouettes of a few boys playing, including the one who called you mother.

"I didn't know..." he said quietly, his eyes following the boy carefully.

"How were you supposed to know?"

"Call him."

"Marcus, please..." you whispered, a cold shiver running down your spine.

He looked at you, but you couldn't read anything on his face. "Call him, please. Or I will." He could see, however, that you were unable to utter a word. "Julius! Come here, boy."

The sounds of fun faded away and after a moment you heard the shuffling of sandals as the boy approached you, dragging a wooden sword behind him. He stopped in front of Marcus, but his frightened gaze went straight to you, afraid that he had done something wrong.

Marcus looked at him carefully, towering over the boy. Finally, he spoke.

"Do you know who I am?"

Julius's eyes went to the man's face. He nodded.

"A general. Mom told me." he said quietly. "A soldier. Like my dad."

You saw Marcus give you a quick look, but he couldn't resist asking another question. "Where's your father, boy?"

"At war. Far away." He looked down and shuffled his shoes. "Mom says he's brave."

"And are you brave?"

You covered your mouth with your hand to hold back a sob as Julius shook his head.

"I'm not. Sometimes I'm scared, so then I go to mom."

Marcus crouched down in front of the boy so that their faces were at the same height. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the resemblance between them.

"Where did you get that sword?" Marcus continued.

Julius visibly perked up. "Mom gave it to me. To make me brave."

"Will you show it to me?"

The boy handed him his wooden sword and Marcus looked at it. "It's a very good sword." Julius' face lit up with a smile.

He accepted the sword back from the General and you had the impression that he stood more straight and proud. Marcus looked at him for a moment longer, then ruffled his hair asking him to go back to playing.

"I didn't know what to tell him when he started asking about his father." You started quietly as Marcus watched the boy who had already run after his friends. "I didn't know if you'd ever come back... I wanted to believe it, but he needed answers. That's all I could give him."

"He is..."

"Perfect." You finished for him. "He's smart, empathetic, sensitive and not at all as cowardly as he says. He's afraid of storms, so he comes to me at night."

Marcus turned around looking at you with tenderness. You noticed tears in his eyes and after a moment they ran down your cheeks.

"I wanted him to be safe." You sobbed. "I thought that when you came back and saw him... Every day I saw you in his eyes."

Warm hands grabbed your face as Marcus put his forehead to yours. You placed your hands on his, trying to calm your breathing.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered "I beg you, forgive me for doubting you. I didn't expect this. The thought that you could marry someone else, give him children..."

"How could I do that? I gave my heart to you, Marcus. For eternity."

Warm lips brushed yours.

"You gave me a son. You're so brave. Too good for me... I don’t deserve you and him." he whispered "I'm sorry I doubted you, my love."

"Please, don't talk about it anymore. Just get to know him, and you'll surely love him too."

"But will he love me?" doubt sounded in his voice "Julius doesn't know his father."

You tenderly stroked his face, wanting to erase all worries from him.

"Julius knows his father is brave, strong, and that he loved me more than anything in his life. He will welcome you with open arms, Marcus. Just give yourself a chance. Give us all a chance." 

He nodded and snuggled up to you with all his might. When he returned to Rome in glory, his greatest dream was to see you again. And you gave him so much more. You gave him more than the Emperor could.

You gave him life.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[voxslays]

Caught Red-Handed

Featuring: (Husk, Alastor, & Velvette) I might make a part two with more characters, so tell me which ones you want in the comments. <3

☆ Husk ☆ You and Husk were dating long before Charlie hired you at her redemption hotel. Husk was the one in charge of the bar and you were the one in charge of the entertainment. Although Husk is grumpy, rude, sarcastic and serious, secretly with you he was a little sweeter even though he didn't like to accept it.

Today your shifts were over early and you were both resting in your room, lying on the bed, the husk's face hidden in your shoulder as he purred, his hands loosely on your waist and his tail tangled around your leg, his large, reddish wings relaxed against his back. "Hmm..." he purred as he tightened his grip, although he didn't want to admit it in words, his touch said it all. His purring grows louder as he nuzzles deeper into your shoulder, his tail giving a gentle squeeze around your leg. “You're so warm... and cozy...” He mumbles sleepily, his voice barely audible. “Love you...” He whispers, his words a soft breeze against your skin.

Just then, Angel walks in without a care in the world, being a nuisance as usual. ​​Husk's ears perk up at the sound of the door opening, and he lifts his head to glare at Angel. "What do you want?" He growls, his tail tightening possessively around your leg. "Can't you see we're busy?" Angel muttered a quick ‘sorry…!’ before quickly walking out of the room and closing the door. 

Husk let out a satisfied grunt at Angel’s hasty retreat, then nuzzled back into your shoulder. “Sorry...I didn't mean to scare him off.” He mumbled, his tail relaxing around your leg. "Good thing, otherwise he'd see us like this..." You roll your eyes. “It's not like we were doing anything.” Husk huffed, his tail flicking slightly. "Maybe not... but I don't want anyone seeing you all...cuddly...and...soft." He trailed off, his ears twitching with a hint of embarrassment. "It's... private." You sigh. “I suppose you're right.” Husk let out a happy sigh, his purring growing louder as he relaxed in your arms. His wings twitched slightly against his back, before settling once more. He nuzzled deeper into your face, his hands still loosely on your waist.

☆ Alastor ☆

Alastor emerges from the shadows, a hand grasping his chest. he swiftly takes off his coat and throws it on a nearby arm chair. he falls onto the chair soon behind it letting out a groan. he had a large gash across his chest. he had been hiding his injury from the others as to not worry them, or to appear vulnerable in any way, but today it had been particularly hard to maintain his composure. Being just in the room next to him you heard this and being concerned you opened the door to his room. “Alastor!?” You ask, seeing his stab wound.

Alastor's head snaps to the door as you enter. His face contorts into a harsh expression, a clear sign for you to leave. "Out," he growls, voice low and dangerous. But then he hesitates, seeing the concern on your face. You step closer. “Please let me help you.” You say, in almost a whisper. His face softens a little at your words. He looks away from you and back to the floor. He sighs “I’m fine, just a scratch.” He sits up straight, wincing. He looks at you again, “You know I don’t like showing weakness.” He grumbles. “You can with me. I won’t judge.” You say, reassuringly. 

You quickly grab the first aid kit and bring out the necessary supplies. You quickly bandage Alastor up, making sure he doesn't bleed to death. He winces as you gently clean and dress the wound. He watches your hands work, his expression softening further. “Thank you” He looks back up at you as you finish. His face contorts slightly as he reaches out for you pulling you into his lap.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close. His touch is gentle, almost reverent. He buries his face in your neck, his hot breath fanning out against your skin. "You're the only one who cares enough to help me," He murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sure that's not true.” You say quietly. He pulls back slightly, his gaze searching yours. "It is," he insists, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "Everyone else fears me. But you...you see through all that, don't you?" His expression turns vulnerable, a rare sight for him. “I do.” You say.

He searches your face for a moment longer, as if trying to discern whether you're telling the truth. Finding only sincerity in your gaze, he relaxes, pulling you close again. His hand drifts down to your thigh, squeezing gently. "Stay with me tonight? Please?" Just then, Charlie comes running in, gasping for air. Once she catches her breath she speaks. “Are you two okay!?” She asks worriedly. 

He tenses, his arms tightening around you protectively. His expression darkens, and for a moment, you fear he might snap at Charlie. But then he takes a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing. "We're fine, Charlie, my dear." He says gruffly, his voice barely concealing his frustration. “Alright. I’m going to check on the others then.” She turns around, leaves the radio booth, and closes the door. Alastor watches Charlie leave, a thoughtful expression on his face. Then he turns back to you, his hand still resting on your thigh. "Where were we?" he murmurs, his thumb tracing circles on your skin.

☆ Velvette ☆

You had just gotten back from a trip to Paris, through an Asmodean crystal you had gotten as a gift from Velvette, you barge into her office excitedly. “Guess who just got back from Paris!” You squeal in excitement. Velvette raises an eyebrow, her lipstick-perfect lips curling into a smirk. “And let me guess, you brought back a ton of overpriced scarves and those disgustingly priced macaroons everyone raves about?” she asks, her tone laced with sarcasm.

“Nope.” You say as you smirk, your hands behind your back. Velvette's face falls slightly, surprised. "Nope?” she repeats, her hand finding her hip. "So, you're telling me you went to Paris and didn't bring back any pastries?" She tilts her head, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "What did you bring back then?" She asks suspiciously. 

“I know as the fashion and social media overlord you barely have any time to design fashion anymore...but I brought you the next best thing!” You say as you take a pile of french fashion magazines that you were holding behind you and place them on her desk. “Ta-da~!” Velvette's eyes widen as she takes in the stack of magazines. "You brought me... fashion magazines?" she asks, her voice dripping with disbelief. She picks up one of the magazines, flipping through it dismissively. "I can get these myself, you know." You smirk. “Not from Paris you can’t.”

Velvette's hands still on the magazines, her long, perfectly manicured nails tapping against the glossy covers. "And what makes these Parisian fashion magazines so special, hmm?" she asks, her gaze flicking up to meet yours. "Are they infused with some sort of magical French charm?" You nod. “Exactly!” Velvette rolls her eyes, but can't help the small smile that tugs at the corner of her mouth. "You're ridiculous," she says, her tone softening slightly. "But... thank you." She picks up one of the magazines and tucks it under her arm.

“Aww girlie of course!” Velvette shoots you a pointed look. "Don't make a big deal out of it," she says sharply. "I'm only accepting this because it's from you." She begins to walk back to her sketchbook, then pauses. "And... maybe because it is from Paris." She whispers. “You know you love me.” You say, a smile still on your face. Velvette's expression softens, and she can't help but smile. "Yeah, yeah," she says, her voice laced with affection. She sits down at her desk, opening the magazine and beginning to flip through it, her mind already filled with new design ideas.

Velvette leans back in her chair, pulls your face close, and kisses you. Before you could deepen the kiss, Valentino walks in. Velvette pulls away from the kiss, her eyes widening slightly as she sees Valentino standing in the doorway. "Valentino," she says, her voice cool and collected. "What are you doing here? Get out!"  She stands up, smoothing out her dress as she does so. Valentino's eyes dart between you and Velvette, a smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I could ask you the same thing," he says, his voice laced with innuendo. "Or should I say, 'what were you doing'?" 

Velvette pushes him out of her office and slams the door in his face. “That was a close one. That prick almost caught us.” She says, clearly irritated. “Yeah…but he didn't.” You smirk as she pulls you into another kiss.

Part Two >>>

[ribread03]

Stream Zs

M.sturniolo

When you visit Matt from Boston and can’t make it through the late night stream…

Warnings: none

MY WORK IS MY IDEAS AND CREATIVITY! I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY OR USE THIS AS “INSPIRATION”

Enjoy💋🫶

It’s currently midnight in California. You’re visiting Matt from Boston so the time difference is throwing you off. You and Matt have been dating for over 2 years now and when him and his brothers decided to move to LA you were devastated but Matt promised that he would fly back to you whenever he could and he would fly you out to him whenever you wanted.

So here you sat next to Matt on stream talking to all of the fans in the chat, Chris and nick are behind the two of you roaming around Matt’s room being nosy. Your occasional yawn slips in here in there as the stream rolls on with what seems like no stop time. You want to be awake while Matt streams to not only be with him, but to meet the newer fans who might not know who you are yet.

“Someone just gifted 25! Who was that?” Matt says loudly causing you to jump awake slightly, blinking your eyes a few times in a row you try to read the name that gifted 25.

“I need my glasses I cant see that far” You say standing up and taking a few steps over to Matt’s nightstand. You grab your glasses and give them a quick wipe with your shirt before throwing them on as you sit back down next to Matt. Your eyes scan the chat looking for 25 gifted. “Gabbi did!” You say excitedly pointing at the monitor.

“YEAH GABBI!” Chris screams from behind you. This causes you to jump slightly, not having expected Chris to scream that loudly. Matt is quick to hold your hand and comfort you. The chat is even quicker to flood with comments about how cute the two of you are.

~~

Nick and Chris both left the room as Matt started to play Hogwarts Legacy, leaving just you two and the 4k people still watching late into the night. It’s currently 2 am LA time and 5am in Boston.

You’re partially asleep on Matt shoulder, your eyes heavy and barely focused on the screen as he picks out his wand. “Ima go lay down” you say through a yawn, picking your head up off of Matt.

“Okay” he say softly watching as you stand up from the chair. “I love you,” Matt whispers while placing his hand over the monitor and giving you a quick kiss. This causes the chat to flood with comments about what you guys just did or didn’t do.

“I love you too,” you return Matt’s kiss. You make your way over to his bed, getting comfortable on your side. You pull your glasses off and grab the stuffed animal, you leave at Matt’s house, to cuddle with. You can hear Matt turn his voice down slightly as he reads some subs and comments out loud.

After a few minutes you hear Matt chair swivel and his voice float through the room, “I did get pretty lucky, didn’t I” He says with a soft smile to the chat while looking back at you. Turning back to the camera, “one more task guys.” He picks his controller back up and selects a short task wanting to get off as soon as possible.

Once Matt completes the task and tells the stream bye and goes offline. He gets up from his chair and makes his way over the empty side of the bed. The mattress dips as he lays down next to you, you groan lightly as he wraps his arms around your waist. “I couldn’t let you be alone for too long” Matt whispers placing a soft kiss on your temple.

You mumble a response back and close your eyes all the way once again. Not to long after Matt is drifting to sleep, nestled close to you.

[aviiarie]

cws & notes: reader (and kaveh) are VERY implied to be aromantic or on the aromantic spectrum. mentions of kissing. lots of platonic affection. platonic kaveh & gn!reader. 1.1k words. wrote this for myself tbh

“So are you two dating?”

You wish you could say it's the first time you've heard the question. And you wish you could bring yourself to be annoyed about hearing it again, but you know there's no malice or spite in the words. Only a polite sort of curiousity, unaware of the way your stomach turns at the thought.

And maybe you wish you could tell Nilou 'no, we're not, why would you think that?' but you know your hand is intertwined with his, and his knee is touching yours, and you have his cheek leaning against the top of your head. You know how it looks, but that never mattered. It felt comfortable, like you fit together just right. Affectionate, with no strings attached.

That was the part that no one seemed to get. You and him were at an understanding that seemed to make sense to no one but yourselves; the squeezing hugs, and nicknames, and nights spent staying up until 3am didn't mean a thing. When you fell asleep on his shoulder, when he chastely kissed you goodbye before leaving on a work trip, it wasn't because you both harboured a secret love you were too shy to say out loud.

You adored him, of course. He was your best friend. But that was it; no strings.

There were always those who couldn't wrap their heads around the thought, the ones who insisted that they had to be at least into each other a little bit. So much time spent being friends, such closeness had to speak to a blossoming romance that just hadn't quiet bloomed yet, right?

What they didn't know was you had tried, your senior year at the Akademiya. It was after all of the comments about how odd it was that they were so close without being a couple finally started to get to them. During a party hosted by a classmate you don't remember the name of, when the teasing and jabs had gotten a little too much, you had found him taking a breather out on the front steps.

Conversation came easily, comfort came quietly, and soon the topic shifted to what people were saying. It was always talk, rumours, gossip. But he could see how they were weighing on you. He could see the look of doubt in your eyes, wondering if this was something you were supposed to want.

If you can't bring yourself to fall for the most important person in your life, then what was wrong with you? Was love a prize that you were never going to win, a lock that you're never going to find the key for?

“Will you kiss me?” You blurted out, and his eyebrows raise. “J-Just once. I just... everyone keeps telling me I'm supposed to like you, and you're supposed to like me, but I just...”

“You want to see?” Kaveh asked hesitantly. You swallow, and nod. “I don't want to do something you don't want to do.”

“I want to. Please, I... I don't want to ask anyone else.” You paused, before quietly adding on, “If there's truly something wrong with me, I want to know now.”

The pinch between Kaveh's eyebrows deepened, but there was a flicker of vulnerability behind his eyes. Some part of him was flashing with the same fear, wondering if there was something wrong with him too, all because he couldn't muster up enough emotion to see you in a romantic light.

Carefully, he placed his hand on your cheek, bringing your face closer to his. There was a pause, before he met your lips in an awkward kiss. There were no sparks that crackled against your mouth, no butterflies in your stomach. It was a unpleasant clashing of teeth together, with your cracked lips pressing against his soft ones for a second too long.

You pull away, face flushed with embarrassment more than anything. “I... I don't think I want to do that again.”

“Me neither.” Kaveh grimaced. He sighed, leaning back to give you a bit more space. “Why do you worry so much about what they say?”

“Because! I'm supposed to enjoy it, aren't I?” There were tears in your eyes, but you didn't care. If there was one person you could cry around, it was him. “What is wrong with me? Why can't I even fake it?”

“You don't need to!” Kaveh said quickly. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Maybe... maybe some people just don't like that sort of love. I know I sure don't, and I've known you long enough to figure out you don't either. We don't have to be a couple to care about each other, right?”

You stared at him, slightly dazed. “...I guess not.”

And since that night, you've never been able to forget his words, and the way he said them. It was like your world got shifted around, and nothing seemed quite the same. All the stress about love, all the worry about whether people thought you were a couple seemed so insignificant all of a sudden.

Yet, your new lighter worldview never stopped that burning question, that followed the pair of you like a shadow.

“So, are you two dating?”

The question echoes in your head, sounding over and over. Nilou is still staring at you, waiting for an answer, although her gaze occasionally flicks to your linked hands resting on his lap.

“We're just friends,” Kaveh responds smoothly. He lets go of your hand long enough to wave away the question, laughing lightly. “Honestly, the amount of times I've been asked that...”

“O-Oh!” Nilou's eyes widen, and her cheeks turn pink. Part of you feels bad for making her look so flustered, but the uncomfortable twist in your gut reminds you that it was her question that started it in the first place. “I didn't mean to assume... you just look so close!”

“We are.” He smiles gently. “But I can assure you we are very happy as friends. Neither of us are interested in that sort of relationship, much less with each other.”

She nods, as if she understands, but there's still confusion behind her expression.

It didn't matter. People didn't have to get what was so special about the two of you. They didn't have to understand what you had, and what you lacked, and why it didn't make much of a difference at all.

You were friends, best friends. And that was plenty enough love for the both of you.

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[warlocksoup]

into the spider-verse: nishinoya yuu

volume one, chapter two: calls

word count: 2.5k

masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

On the rooftop of the Flatiron Building, she leans back, and stares at the sky above her. She’s learned that looking down gives her vertigo, and if she’s lying down, she can pretend she’s not twenty-two stories off the ground.

Noya laughs at her, because he always does, but he still holds her hand, because he knows it makes her feel better. “I can’t believe you’re still afraid of heights.”

“I feel like this is a super reasonable fear to have.” She inches a little but further away from the edge as she speaks. She doesn’t even wanna be close to it. “Plummeting to my death isn’t like, a big priority for me right now.”

He squeezes her hand. “You know I’ll catch you if you fall.”

He would. She doesn’t even doubt that for a second. If right now she stood up and decided to take a swan dive off the side of the building, there would be nothing getting in between him and her, and Noya would have her safely in his arms before she hit the fifteenth floor.

But still. It fucking terrifies her.

“Okay, sorry my primal instinct does not recognize that you got bit by some weird science experiment spider and now you defy all laws of nature,” she rolls her eyes, still tightly holding onto his hand as he sits upright beside her. “I’ll work on that.”

Nishinoya leans over a lightly pinches the soft skin of her stomach under her t-shirt. She squeals. “Keep it up with the attitude and I’ll throw you off the side of this building myself.”

“Hmm, not very hero-like of you, Spider-Man.”

“You bring out the worst in me.”

She grins. “I’m going to have to write an article about this. ‘Spider-Man throws innocent journalist with fear of heights off Flatiron Building.’ Jameson will love it.”

Nishinoya scoffs. “Yeah, I’m sure he would. Too bad you’ll be busy being a sidewalk pancake.”

Her eyes find their intertwined hands. It’s always been natural, their friendship, everything that happens between them feels like it’s supposed to. The handholding and the couch-sharing and the arm over her shoulder. It’s always right, with Nishinoya. She doesn’t even have to think about it.

She watches his thumb as it brushes against her skin. “How’s it been out there lately?” she asks.

“Quiet,” Nishinoya replies. “Saving kittens from trees and helping old ladies across the street. Besides Sytsevich, everything’s been quiet since Osborn died. It’s kinda weird, y’know? Like eerie.”

“Yeah, I imagine waiting for the next disaster to strike can feel like that,” she comments, leaning back to stare up at the empty sky. You can’t ever see stars out here. “Hey, Noya?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think you’re gonna stay here forever?” she asks. “Just stick around and be Spider-Man for the rest of your life.”

He hums a bit. “I dunno. I think I’ll probably just go wherever you end up.”

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

She’s sitting on the train, a hot cup of coffee in one hand, and her phone in the other. She’s looking down at an email from her favorite Yahoo user: If you don’t want the whole world to find out, do as I say.

It’s pretty explicit. It’s hard to misinterpret that kind of message, as much as she’s deliberately trying to. Her fingers tap against the paper cup, trying not to let panic work its way up her throat in the middle of this train cab, surrounded by bored commuters that wouldn’t flinch twice at any sort of breakdown she could have.

A heavy breath leaves her lung, and she pockets her phone, trying, with a tight feeling of desperation around her throat, not to think of it. If it’s not in her face, it’ll be marginally easier to pretend.

Yachi’s waiting for her at her desk when she gets into work. She slides into her chair, and Yachi skips the greeting. “Jameson’s pissed,” Yachi says, tapping a pencil against her desk.

“Yeah? What’d Spider-Man do now?” she questions, typing her password in. She mistypes it, and curses slightly under her breath.

“The PI he hired to find out his identity quit,” Yachi laughs. “Apparently there wasn’t enough for him to go off, and the guy got tired of Jameson raising his blood pressure at him for forty minutes a day.”

She snorts. Noya’s told her about private investigators before. Everyone touts that they’re going to be the one to unmask Spider-Man, but it’s kinda tricky trailing a man with superhuman sixth sense and the ability to basically fly through the city. “I give it another three months before he tries this one again.”

“I give it one,” Yachi counters.

Her desktop loads up, and she is immediately hit with a barrage of emails, looking like they’re coming in all at once, all in caps lock. “Fuck, looks like he’s taking it out on me again.”

Email after email, the subject lines varying from things like, “This piece is crap!” to “How are you still employed here?”

Yachi leans forward to get a better at her screen. “Oh, that’s bad. I’ll leave you to that.”

And it’s just that Yachi gives her a sharp grin and two-finger salute that another email pops up. No subject line, just a simple: Wait for my instruction.

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

Harry Osborn looks smarmy on the television screen, a thin layer of sweat shining on his forehead and slick smile that looks a little bit too pleased for his father’s funeral. She knocks her knee into Noya’s leg underneath the blanket they share. “That guy’s such a piece of shit,” she comments, jerking her chin forward towards the younger Osborn.

Noya knocks his leg back into hers. “My guy looks like he just won the lottery,” he remarks, eyes not leaving the screen. There’s a bit of history between Spider-Man and the Osborn family, mainly consisting of Norman committing acts of domestic terrorism from the vantage point of a hoverboard, dressed like a fucking goblin.

“Yeah, well he basically did,” she snarks. “Imagine inheriting Oscorp before you’re twenty-five. Basically guarantees you a fucking thirty under thirty spot.”

He snorts. “I’d rather not have anything to do with Oscorp. I’d rather be broke.”

"Oh, you mean the company that basically sponsored the lizard-ification of Dr. Connors? I can't imagine why." She lops her head to the side to look at him. “And anyway, I’m broke. You’re a freeloader.”

Nishinoya waves her off. “Same difference.”

She snorts, turning to face the television again to see they’re playing old footage of Norman Osborn in a lab (coat and everything), explaining the mission statement of Oscorp. To build a better future.

There were rumors about Norman, post-mortem. Details floating around about how he was driven mad in his final year. That the Osborn curse had infected him beyond hope, and his mind had began to decay, along with his body. Some people think he’s been dead for much longer. Some people think a group of investors had been secretly running Oscorp for years while Norman received private care upstate. Some people even suspect him of being the Goblin.

She wonders if that was the better future he had envisioned.

Noya shifts uncomfortably in his seat. She reaches over and grabs his hand, squeezing it tightly in hers. She’s sure he’s wishing the son will be better than his father. She’s hoping too.

His thumb traces circles over her knuckle. He doesn’t look in her direction. She tries to focus on the news and enjoy the way his hand feels in hers before there’s some police broadcast or distant siren or whatever to call him back to duty.

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

Meet me @ 300 W 57th St tomorrow at 8am. Or I tell everyone about him.

She sits at her desk, biting down on the end of a pencil, and weighing her options.

One: she could tell Noya.

There’s not even a chance he would let her go. Not even if he were there. No matter the argument she would present. Nishinoya would sooner web her to the couch than let her go meet up with some mystery blackmailer. She also knows that this threat would do little to sway him. If she tells Noya, the most likely outcome is him, masked up and aggravated, showing up to fight.

Which would result in ijs99ETJfdhsg@yahoo.com telling everyone.

Two: she could do nothing.

There’s really been no hard proof presented to her that shows that Yahoo user ijs99ETJfdhsg knows what he claims he knows. This could all very well be a big misunderstanding on her end. And so what? Even if he does know what he claims to, it’s not like the world would so easily believe that Nishinoya Yuu, random unemployed man, is Spider-Man. Random liars claim to be Spider-Man every day. Noya could easily blend in with random liars.

The consequence of doing nothing though is, of course, him telling everyone. And still, the possibility that the masses believe him or that Yahoo user ijs99ETJfdhsg does have some hard evidence on his side gnaw away at her. She can’t shoulder that.

Three: she could show up.

She could put some pepper spray in her bag and give Noya the address just in case something happens, and she could go and meet with this mystery blackmailer to see exactly what the fuck it is he wants.

And then, he wouldn’t tell anyone.

The thought of it puts knots in her stomach, and those knots are worsened by the acknowledgement that it’s probably her best course of action.

She sighs, using her cursor to highlight the address he provided and plopping it back into search bar. She’s envisioning some deserted alley, an abandoned storefront or someplace that would leave no witnesses if she were to be kidnapped and/or murdered.

What she wasn’t expecting was fucking Oscorp.

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

Harry Osborn’s office is neat. Almost empty, save for a few hard-drives and a stack of unopened newspapers at his desk. The wall to ceiling windows provide a view of the city she’s never seen before, and standing in the middle of it, she feels so starkly out of place. She looks behind her, just to see the assistant that led her up here closing the door behind him.

She feels trapped, at once.

Harry himself is leaning against a window, and as if operating on a que, he turns on his heel, a sickly grin plastered on his face, and, if she squints, she can almost see a greenish sort of hue in the undertones of his skin. “There’s my favorite journalist,” he greets, arms extended out as if he was going to hug her.

She steps back. “Erm, yeah,” she responds, head turning slightly to eye the closed door behind her. There’s something off in the air of room, something off-putting in the way Harry is looking at her. “Is there a reason you summoned me here through cryptic emails, or did you just wanna like, hang out?”

He stops, and lets his arms drop back down to his side, stuffing his hands in his pant pockets. “Straight to the point. I like that. I like that quality.”

It’s strange to be in the same room as him, New York City’s prodigal son. She’s seen his face on the cover of magazines and on news segments and she’s written articles about him. Harry Osborn has almost always been some kind of mythic figure in her head. An untouchable prince. Nothing she could get away with printing in the Bugle would ever have any impact on him.

But here before her, he does not look mythic, or untouchable, he looks like a very sick man. His hair falls flatly on his forehead, and he uses the back of sleeve to wipe off droplets of sweat. The longer she looks at him, the greener he seems, like his whole body is lightly stained.

Harry takes another step towards her. She steps back again.

“Y’know,” he drawls, and moves to stand behind the large desk that takes up most of the room; she watches him carefully, eyes trained on his every movement, “one of the most underrated parts of a power acquisition in a company like Oscorp, is that you suddenly have a lot more information at your disposal. A lot of information that money can’t buy.”

There’s something about the way he talks that is starkly unnatural. The PR training bleeds out of every word, and though he looks young, but the way he carries himself is eerily like his father. It makes goosebumps rise on the back of her neck. She looks over her shoulder, back at the door behind her. “O-okay.”

Harry takes a seat, like he’s unbothered by her presence. His hand lingers over one of the hard drives. “Did you know that, back in the early two-thousands, this company poured millions into researched on genetically enhanced spiders. They were supposed to be this miracle cure. A magic spider that could cure any illness. Until, of course, the head scientist died in some accident, and they had to kill off the whole project, including all the spiders they bred. Y’know, today, I think we only have one thing to show for that project.”

Her face is hot, and her ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton. This all suddenly feels like a mistake, like she’s in over her head and she never should’ve come here without Noya. Her tongue is dry when she tries to speak. “Is this, is this on the record, or…?”

Harry leans forward in her chair, and sneers. It chills her blood, that expression, cold and gnarled. “I’m not interested in going on the record with some second-rate journalist at a trash paper. I’m interested in this.”

Harry Osborn grabs the newspaper on his desk and slams it forward. She takes a step forward to get a better look and knows immediately what it is. It’s the Daily Bugle, with Spider-Man on the front page and her name printed on the bottom.

The First-Ever On-The-Record Interview with the One and Only Spider-Man!

Her hands are shaking. She looks up to see Harry grinning at her. “It’s funny, actually, how someone right out of school, with no credentials and no reputation to go off, could get this kind of interview.”

She can hear her heartbeat, and all she can think of is how unbelievably, colossally fucked she is.

Harry Osborn stands and makes his way to stand directly in front of her. The closer he is, the more of him she can see. The green tint of his skin, the almost scaly quality, the point of his teeth. “I want you to find Spider-Man, and I want you to get him to give me his blood.”

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

On the busy street beneath the Oscorp building, her fingers tremble as she dials Noya’s number. He answers after the first ring. “Hey, what’s up? I’m just dropping this bodega thief off at the station-“

“Noya,” she cuts him off, trying to hold back the sob in her voice. “I fucked up.”

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[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 21

Hey guys!! The story is starting ramp up to the finish line! I hope you guys are still enjoying it as much I enjoyed writing it.

In this we have Steve taking back his agency, Eddie and Jeff having a little chat and Abbadon leaning on his friends.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

~

As soon as Abbadon grabbed the mic, the audience knew they were going to be in for a ride.

“Las Vegas!” he roared to the crowd, who roared back. “There seems to be some confusion about how naughty I got with Eddie Munson in Denver.”

The crowd went wild, screaming and jumping up and down.

“I never do anything without prior consent,” he grinned. “I’m a gentleman, until you tell me you want it otherwise.” He winked and the crowd screamed back. “I’m not saying I’m coming for Asmodeus’s job,” Abbadon said, draping himself over his guitarist’s shoulders, “but I’m no innocent. I don’t need protection.” He walked across the stage to Astraeus. “I’ve always been affectionate. But I think it’s time to be put the rumors to bed.”

“Oooooohhhhhh!” Asmodeus and Astraeus shouted and got the crowd to say it with them. Once they were loud enough, Azrael started rapidly tapping his drums to further build up tension.

Just when Abbadon was sure the tension couldn’t stretch much further he said, “I’m not a slut. I’m the slut!” The throng of people roared back. “And I’m not going to hide who I am to make myself palpable to people I’ve never met or no longer have any connection to me. I am Abbadon! I AM THE FALLEN!”

Waiting in the wings was Jeff and Eddie. They had gathered to watch Steve do this in person instead of watching it live in the green room.

Jeff cocked his head to the side and clicked his tongue. “Whatever else you think of Abbadon and the rest of the band, you have to admit the man has charisma.”

Eddie pressed his lips together and nodded. He was proud of Steve. Of course he was, but it did sting a little that it took Shane to get him to talk about it. Not him, Not Robin. Hell, not even Simon, whom Eddie thought was unhealthily close to Steve. Shane. Of all the band members, Shane had the least in common with Steve. Spence had the EMT thing, Simon, the upper class upbringing. Other than them liking metal, they couldn’t be further apart then if God planned it that way.

Shane came from a middle class liberal family with an older sister he was close with. Hell, he even still talked to his parents while Steve definitely did not. He was a giant nerd who loved history and myths. Steve struggled in school and only made it out alive because he was on three sports teams and captains of two of them. Shane even slept around to Steve’s search for ‘the one.’ Which Eddie really, really hoped was him.

But maybe that was it. Maybe the reason Shane could get through to Steve was because they didn’t have much in common. Maybe their connection were their differences. That they were friends in spite of the gap between them.

Eddie almost wanted to get Steve into therapy like Gareth was. Because even though it always seemed to him that Gareth was one drink away from destruction these days, the therapy did appear to be working.

Steve could really use something like that.

They watched the set a little bit longer.

“Are you sure you’re okay with Abbadon flirting with Gareth?” Jeff asked.

Eddie blinked for a moment wondering where the comment was coming from. Because, sure, Gareth had talked non-stop about Abbadon being his favorite member, even going as far as to tattoo Abbadon’s mask on his left bicep. But Gareth didn’t seem interested in Abbadon as a person.

And it wasn’t like Steve was really interested in him that way before or after becoming a rockstar.

“Gareth and Abbadon both say it’s fine,” he murmured after a moment or two. “And I trust Abbadon.”

Jeff hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah okay. So this time it’s not going to be the duet?”

“No, I don’t want a repeat of last time. Abbadon is going to be taking the lead vocals on ‘Might as Well Fly’, I think he’ll lend a haunting quality to it.”

Jeff pursed his lips. Steve definitely had the pipes for it, but it wasn’t the song out of their discography that he would have chosen for Abbadon to shred.

Eddie huffed beside him and crossed his arms in front of him. “Let me guess, you have other ideas?”

“Can Abbadon play guitar?” Jeff asked rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Eddie shrugged. “I mean, I guess. He’s like able to play piano, violin, and guitar. Can he play the song you’re thinking of is the real question.”

Jeff turned to him with a grin. “Oh, if I know our friend as well as I think I do, he knows it.”

Eddie frowned at him and cocked his head to the side. “Which one?”

Jeff told him and Eddie rubbed his lips, skeptical. It was a good song. Harder than ‘Might as Well Fly’ and faster too. It had an extra guitar to it because it originally featured a famous guitarist. But it was also the lead guitar on that song.

“Do you really think he can do it?” he asked, licking his upper lip slowly.

Jeff scoffed, “Why? Do you think he can’t?” Eddie just shrugged. “Because holy hell, dude, I was talking to Asmodeus and he was telling me they formed their band over their love of our music. I’m betting if you asked Abbadon he could list his favorite albums alphabetically, chronologically, or which one is best musically. Even before you guys got together, before their band, before we even got a record deal, he’s been your number one fan. And he’s got the chops for it. You know he does.”

Eddie looked around to make sure no one had heard Jeff’s impassioned speech. He ducked his head. “Have Abbadon meet us before we go on to discuss the change while they setup our equipment.”

Jeff grinned and licked his lips. “You won’t regret this. And neither will they.” He jutted his chin out at the roaring crowd.

And yeah, Eddie knew he was being ridiculous about the song. He was trying to play this safe, but Steve didn’t need safe right now. He needed to take back his agency and Eddie knew that this song? It was fucking perfect for Steve. They would be able to feed off the roar of the crowd and give Steve a chance to really show them how good he is.

~

Steve loved the idea of the change in song. Don’t get him wrong, he loved ‘Might as Well Fly’. It just wasn’t the vibe he was trying to send today. Steve already was flying. Now he was raging at the people who were trying to clip his wings. And fuck them.

It meant that he couldn’t start on Gareth’s lap, but that was okay. This was going to be better. A hell of a lot better.

He pulled on his Corroded Coffin logo lined coat and swapped his mask for the lighter everyday one. He was going to need the extra movement for these vocals. He started in the middle again, this time in front of Corroded Coffin instead of between them.

“Hey, Las Vegas!” Eddie cried. “You bitches ready to rock?”

The crowd screamed back and Eddie laughed. “We’ve got a treat for you tonight!” The crowd screamed even louder. “We don’t usually play ‘Nightmare Killer’ because we don’t have that third guitarist.”

The audience went wild, screaming and whistling and stomping their feet in excitement.

“We asked Asmodeus,” Eddie continued. “But he’s too cool for us!” The crowd made teasing booing noises and oohhed. “But that’s okay, we found someone else willing to play.”

The room fell to a hush as Abbadon’s spotlight came on. There was some uneasy wrestling from the audience as he stood with his ear mic and white guitar. Something that eagle-eyed fans would know about Eddie and Jeff was that they didn’t own a white guitar. And all The Fallen fans knew that all of Asmodeus’s guitars were red and vaguely devil themed. This wasn’t his either. This was clearly Abbadon’s.

Abbadon began the opening riff and the crowd took a massive intake of breath as he sailed perfectly through the chunky bits of the original artist’s style. Then he began to sing, the haunting quality of his voice filling in the gaps of the silence that seemed to stretch on from the audience.

Eddie didn’t even bother trying to hold back the look of admiration on his face as he joined Abbadon for the chorus. Their vocals mixing beautifully to the backdrop of a hell beast looking for more from life than the violence it was weaned on.

Throughout the song the only sounds from the crowd were clapping in time to the beat. Eddie had never seen anything like at their concerts before. It was like there was this reverence for what was happening on stage.

Abbadon ate it up and played it up as he enticed the members of Corroded Coffin to him. Each of the members resisted. Then Abbadon handed his guitar off to a roadie and climbed the stairs to the platform that Gareth was on. He straddled Gareth’s lap and drumming cut out as his bandmates played on. From behind it looked like they were kissing, but with Abbadon’s mic off they were making fun of each other. Then suddenly he whirled on Gareth’s lap and hit the drums right on the last note with a crash.

Then in an instant the crowd thundered to life, cheering and stomping and clapping.

Abbadon blew Gareth a kiss and leapt off the platform to take his bows. The flutter of the coat revealing the Corroded Coffin logo again and the crowd screamed even louder. He blew kisses to the crowd and continued to bow. Eddie whistled loudly and Abbadon laughed.

Eddie grabbed the microphone. “Abbadon everyone! One very talented son of bitch! Another round of applause everyone!”

The crowd continued to go wild. Abbadon let out a whoop and jumped up and down, laughing. It was exhilarating, everyone just feeding the energy back to Abbadon and just feeling high off that. Eddie and Jeff shared a glance and Jeff winked. Eddie shook his head. Because yeah, Jeff won that bet.

Abbadon waved goodbye and walked off the stage. Once he was out of view of the audience Hopper swooped in and immediately threw a cool, damp towel over his head and Steve nearly sank to his knees in relief. Because try as they might, the hoods were still fucking hot. Hopper lead him to the dressing room where the rests of The Fallen were waiting.

As soon as the door closed tightly behind Abbadon, Steve pushed back the hood and ripped off the mask. His hair was wet and sweat clung to his face and neck. He let himself sink slowly into the soft cushions of the sofa and laid his head back.

A bottled water was being pushed into his hand and an ice pack was placed on his brow. He let out a small shuddering breath. He opened the water and dumped half of it on his face and the rest into his mouth.

“Thanks, guys,” Steve muttered, his eyes fluttering shut. “How did I look out there?”

Simon huffed a little a laugh. “Like fucking rock god.”

“I’m with Simon,” Spence said. “It won’t silence the naysayers but it’ll drown them out which is even better.”

Steve laughed. “Fuck that was so much fun. Gareth called me a queen. So I called him a bitch. I honestly don’t know if he likes Abbadon more now, or less!”

“Considering how little time you had to prepare,” Shane said, sprawled over an armchair instead of on the floor for a change, “I say you kicked ass. You’re going to get people saying you weren’t really playing but, they can suck your dick!”

Steve lifted his head, the ice pack sliding into his hand. “I hate doing this without you guys, though,” he admitted. “But as Shane pointed out, I’m already super affectionate with you already and short of French kissing Simon, they aren’t going to believe shit.”

“Nothing against you, Steve,” Simon said with a wince, “but I really don’t want your tongue down my throat.”

Shane raised his hand. “I volunteer! I volunteer!”

They all laughed. Then Robin as Celeste slipped in and sat next to Steve. She grabbed the ice pack and pressed it to the back of her neck. They all waited as she let her defenses slowly come down. She pulled off the wig and tossed it Spence who caught it deftly.

“Vickie has been working tirelessly tonight to keep an eye on social media,” Robin began, “she even has two of her assistants watching all the accounts, constantly refreshing.”

Steve turned on the couch to face her. “And what are they saying?”

Simon and Spence immediately moved over to her to sit on either side of her and Steve. Shane sprawled over the back like some Renaissance painting. He rustled her hair and she huffed out a laugh.

“You’re getting the trolls from both fans shit talking about how Abbadon is better than Corroded Coffin and should have turned them down like Asmodeus,” she continued, pausing only for Simon’s huff of laughter. “The Corroded Coffin fans were whining about how Abbadon’s vocals ruined the song and that he probably faking the guitar playing for the views.”

“I’d like to see them fake that bridge,” Steve scoffed. “It’s insane.”

Simon nodded. “I don’t think I could do it.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s what I’ll do. I’ll post a Tiktok of me trying to play it.”

“Wait!” Spence said. “Have Steve do it first, showing a close up of the hands dancing on the frets. Then you stitch it with your version. That should kick them in the ass.”

Steve and Simon fist bumped each other. “Hell yeah!”

“But the rest of the tweets and shit coming in is overwhelmingly positive,” Robin finished. “So that Tiktok should silence the Corroded Coffin fans.”

When Simon did his stitch of Steve’s video he made sure to admonish their fans about thinking who’s better than who. He was friends with the boys in CC and the being ‘too cool’ was a fucking joke.

Then Eddie did a stitch of both of their videos and showed them again how complicated the riff was for Abbadon to play by playing it himself. Abbadon and Asmodeus’s videos racked up a lot of views and shares, but Eddie’s really did the numbers. It blew up and completely overshadowed all the haters.

Steve made sure to thank Eddie for that later in the privacy of Eddie’s hotel room.

`

Tag List: CLOSED

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10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina @garden-of-gay

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Interruption | Part 05

-> Pairing: mafia husband!Kim Hongjoong x mafia wife!Reader

-> Sypnosis: As her team searches for Mi-Rae, Y/N refuses to leave her husband's side. She starts reminiscing about the first time she met him.

-> Warnings: mafia au. Italics are flashbacks. pocket knife used to threaten someone. poor description of physical violence. Y/N is kind of a psychotic badass. Hints at how Y/N and Hongjoong were destined to meet. more of a fill in chapter. Flashback scene Hongjoong is 18 and Y/N is 17 thats why it hints at them still being in school.

-> Word Count: 2,183 - longest chapter so far, can't make any promises that the rest will be this long but I can try.

-> Taglist: open. Leave a comment on the masterlist post, send an ask or fill out the taglist form.

Interruption Masterlist | Hongjoong Masterlist | Tag List Form

When Seonghwa and a staff member bringing food for Y/N walk into the room, they find Y/N slouched over the bed where an unconscious Hongjoong lies. Her head is resting gently on the bed, and one of her hands is holding onto her husband's as if she’s afraid to let go. While her team have been searching for Mi-Rae, she stayed remaining by her husband’s side, not once leaving him since he got out of surgery a week ago. 

“Just put the food on the table,” Seonghwa instructs the staff member, who nods and promptly follows the order before exiting the room.  

Seonghwa then takes a moment to take in the scene before him. The dim light casts gentle shadows across the room, highlighting the worry lines on Y/N's face. It’s clear that the weight of the world rests on her shoulders, and yet, she remains strong and resilient, determined to shield her vulnerability from even those who know her best. 

With a soft sigh, Seonghwa picks up a spare blanket from the chair in the corner, its fabric soft and warm. He approaches Y/N carefully, not wanting to disturb her fragile peace. Gently, he drapes the blanket over her shoulders to keep her warm in the chilly makeshift hospital room.  

As the fabric brushes against her skin, she stirs, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal a pair of tired eyes. For a moment, Y/N blinks in confusion, her mind still foggy from sleep. When her gaze finally focuses, she finds Seonghwa's concerned expression.  

“I didn’t hear you come in,” she says as she straightens herself from her slouched position. 

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he replies softly, his tone laced with empathy. “You were finally getting some sleep.”  

"Have there been any updates?" she asks him, not wanting to talk about her lack of sleep or care for herself.  

"I'm afraid not," he regrets to inform her. "Wherever she is, she's managed to stay hidden. We're still checking potential locations and speaking to anyone who might have information about her whereabouts and anyone who could be hiding her." His words are steady, but she can hear the frustration and worry in his tone. 

Y/N feels her shoulders droop at his response, the burden of uncertainty weighing heavily on her like a thick mist. She turns her gaze back to Hongjoong, his stillness a stark reminder of the turmoil they’ve faced. Her heart aches at the sight of him, so vulnerable and not quite himself. Their time together is typically filled with joy and laughter, but right now, everything feels different. The days feel colder without the sound of his laughter and voice when he would randomly burst into song, the warmth of his embrace, how he could turn any mundane task into something enjoyable, and the sense of safety and love he brings her. 

She turns back to Seonghwa, a newfound determination etched on her face. "Tell the men to stop being so soft. I don’t fucking care if someone ends up losing an eye. Someone out there knows something."  

"I'll make sure to tell them that," he replies with a nod. "Now, there’s food on the table. Please eat something," he adds, sounding like a caring parent. "And try to get some more rest. Wooyoung or I will wake you if we find out anything." 

Before Y/N can say anything back, he leaves the room, leaving no room for argument. Glancing at the table, she sees the small square table covered with plates and bowls of untouched food. She knows she should eat, but the knot in her stomach makes it hard to even think about food. 

Choosing to eat later, she shifts her focus back to Hongjoong. Taking his hand in hers, she kisses the back of it gently. "I can’t do this without you, Joongie. You need to wake up," she whispers, her voice trembling as tears well up in her eyes once more. She squeezes his hand tighter, as if her grip alone could pull him out of his unconsciousness. "You’re the strongest person I know," she continues, her voice breaking. "You better come back to me." Dropping her head, the tears start to spill over as she fights to keep her composure.  

"Do you remember when we first met?" she asks, spinning his wedding ring around his finger, trying to distract herself from breaking down completely. Despite getting no answer, she continues, "I saved your ass from those little punks that were roughing you up in that side street. "

The moment she utters those words, she’s transported back to the day she first met Hongjoong.  

Y/N, clutching her bag straps, paid no attention to her surroundings as she kicked a pebble along the path leading to the bus stop, she needed to be at to catch the bus home. She was far from happy after her driver failed to show up to pick her up from school. But something soon caught her attention as she walked past a little side street that was mostly used for vans and trucks to drop things off. To the shops that backed onto it.  

Curious, she retraced her steps and turned into the alley, where she spotted five boys, likely around her age or a bit older in their school uniforms, beating up another boy who seemed to be her age as well. 

As she heard the boy let out a pained groan from a harsh kick to his side, she quickly pulled out the pocket knife she always carried for emergencies. 

“Yah!” she yells, drawing the bullies' attention to her as she approaches them. 

"I'd keep walking if I were you, princess," one of the bully's sneers at her. "This has nothing to do with you." 

“It has everything to do with me,” she shot back. "You’re hurting my friend," she declares, even though she has never met the boy they were attacking before. The words slipped out before she could think, but there is something about the way he was curled up on the ground, vulnerable and scared. It reminded her of the situation she’d been in a few years prior and that ignited a protectiveness for the boy. 

"Your friend?" one of the boys scoffed, stepping forward with a menacing grin. "I know for a fact that he has no friends. Why don’t you just run along before you get hurt too?" 

“Try me,” she says holding the knife out towards them.  

The boy who had just spoken started to advance when another boy held him back. “Hold on, I know her,” he said, drawing the attention of the group. “I think she’s Kim Dong-Yul’s niece.” 

“Yeah, so what?” the first boy scoffed, though his confidence wavered slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean? You think we’re scared of some old man?” 

"You should be," the second boy spoke. 

A third boy speaks up, "I don't think it's him you have to worry about. She's a complete psycho. From what I've been told, she lit fire to another girl's hair because she stole her seat. " 

"Yah! She didn't steal my seat, she stole my Lipton Peach Iced Tea," Y/N shot back, clearly offended by their misunderstanding. “Now should I also set you all on fire,” she asks, reaching back into her pocket to pull out the lighter she had in there for no reason at all. Her other hand still holding the knife towards them, ready to be used if it came down to it. 

The boy hesitated, glancing at his friends, who were now shifting uncomfortably. She could see the wheels turning in their minds, until the first boy, clearly the leader of the group of them, spoke again, “Look, we don’t want any trouble. We were just messing around.” 

“Messing around?” she echoed, her grip tightening on the knife. “You call this messing around? You’re terrorizing someone who hasn’t done anything to you. You’re just a pathetic loser.” 

The third boy, who had mentioned the rumor, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly regretting his involvement. “Maybe we should just go,” he suggested, his voice barely above a whisper. “The last thing we need is Kim Dong-Yul on our asses. It isn’t worth it.”  

“Yeah, maybe you should,” Y/N shot back, her eyes narrowing. “And if you ever think about messing with someone again, just know that I can find out where you live, where your parents work and what your little sister likes to eat. You don’t want to know what I can do with that info.” 

“Let’s go,” the first boy finally says and turns to leave, the others following suit.  

“Assholes,” She mutters under her breath before turning her attention to the boy they were tormenting. He was now sitting up clutching his side. “Are you okay?” she asks, taking off her bag as she crouched down to his level.  

“Did you really set a girls hair on fire over a drink?” he asks, watching her unzip her backpack and pull out a small first aid kit. 

"No," she replied, shaking her head with a chuckle. As she opened the kit, she pulled out a cleaning swab to tend to the cut above his eye, which looked like the worst of his external injuries. "I mean, it wasn’t over a stolen drink. It was an accident," she added, tossing the bloody swabs aside and reaching for a band-aid. 

“That sounds like a pretty big accident.” he says, skepticism lacing his voice. 

“Let’s just say, accident or not accident, she never bothered me or the other girls afterwards,” she says, placing the band-aid over the cut. 

“I’m guessing you’re some sort of anti-hero,” He smirks slightly, his deep brown eyes onto hers with an intensity that makes her teenage heart skip a beat.  

For a moment, the world around them fades away. She can feel her cheeks flush, a warmth spreading through her. “Anti-hero? I don’t know about that,” she replies, a shy smile creeping onto her lips as she finishes securing the band-aid. “I just don’t like bullies, that’s all,” She glances down, suddenly aware of how close they are. The air between them crackles with an unexpected tension, a mix of adrenaline and something else she can’t quite place because she’s pretty sure she’s never felt it before. She clears her throat, trying to shake off the warmth rushing to her cheeks. “I mean, it’s not like I go around purposefully setting their hair on fire.” 

He chuckles softly, the sound warm and inviting but winces when it causes him pain. She can’t help but feel a pang of concern for him.  

“Seriously, though, are you okay?” she asks, her brow furrowing as she studies his face. The cut above his eye is small but deep, and she can see the remnants of a bruise beginning to form. She can only guess his ribs weren’t doing too well either. “You should probably go get checked out.”  

He shrugs, a nonchalant gesture that doesn’t quite mask the pain in his eyes. “I’ve had worse.” He pauses, as he stands up with her help. “But I appreciate your help.”  

“Y/N,” she replies instinctively, her voice steady despite the concern swirling within her. 

“I promise, I’ll be fine, Y/N,” he assures her, as he slings his backpack over his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll see you around,” he smiles, making her heart flutter once more before he limps away leaving her alone in the little side street. 

“Ugh, stupid heart,” she mutters, glancing down at her chest, but a smile tugs at her lips. She can’t shake the feeling that this encounter was more than just a chance meeting. Realizing she never got his name, she goes to catch up with him. As she reaches the main street, she looks both ways hoping to catch a glimpse of him but can’t find him anywhere.  

Little did she know at the time, she would be seeing him again only a few hours later. 

“I knew that us meeting in that side street wasn’t just a coincidence,” she says, lifting her gaze to Hongjoong, a small part of her hoping to see those brown eyes she loves so much looking back at her only to be disappointed when they weren’t. “You had me feeling things I’d never felt before,” she says, kissing the back of his hand again before resting it against her cheek. “I really can’t do this without you, Joong.” 

“Boss?” she hears from behind her.  

She straightens up once again, wiping the tears from her eyes. Standing up she turns around to face Wooyoung.  

"We have a lead," he tells her before she has to ask. "An informant told us Mi-Rae could be hiding out at the docks, trying to escape Korea. I had a few men ask around. She was spotted there by three people. One mentioned seeing her this morning." 

“Alright, flush her out and hold her until I get there,” she tells him. He nods and leaves the room. She turns back to Hongjoong and leans down, kissing his cheek. “I’ll be back soon, my love.” 

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead

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[aliceintheworld]

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shouldn't be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: more religion 😬 depression, Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi appear. Jungkook in a towel 💦👅 finally a kiss (things from here happen quickly.) ATTENTION, THIS STORY IS NOT SLOWBURN.

A/N: Guys, I took a while this time for reasons of: laziness and discouragement. I wanted more people to read what I write, but I'm introverted even on the Internet, which leaves me with few alternatives to show my writing to the world. Thinking about it, I'm in trouble. Other than that, only a few days have passed, so everything is fine. Back to the story, everything starts to pick up pace. Just to repeat, the fanfic is not slowburn, so there will be smut in the next chapter. Stay tuned.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 3

I spend the whole week riding an emotional rollercoaster. I find myself visiting my neighbor, Mrs. Jeon, more frequently than usual, and with each visit, our friendship blossoms deeper. She shares stories of her youth, of wild adventures and carefree days when she was my age. Her openness encourages me to share my own experiences–or rather, my lack of them. I recount my first disastrous kiss, confess that I've never been in love, and reveal how my once unshakeable faith in the church has wavered since my father's passing. I feel a weight lift off my shoulders; here, I am free to be imperfect, to be vulnerable, without fear of judgment.

Yet, there's one thing I keep to myself: the incident with her son, Jungkook, and the profound effect he has on me. Throughout all my visits, I never see him again. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I casually ask Mrs. Jeon where he is. She tells me that he moved and rented an apartment to avoid being a burden. He only spent the first night at home after his trip, and I remember that night well–from my window, of course–but I don't mention it. Disappointment settles in me like a stone; I long to see him again, but I focus on his mother instead. Having her to confide in is a relief, a breath of fresh air in my otherwise stifling life.

I patiently wait for her to open up about her own struggles, her depression, but she never does. I worry that I might know something I shouldn't, that perhaps she's not comfortable sharing with me. But I promise myself I'll keep her secret safe, no matter what. Today is Sunday, and I won't visit Mrs. Jeon since I'll see her at church. I'm excited–despite my mother making unnecessary comments and disturbing my peace of mind, I'll have someone to rely on.

I smooth down my dark brown dress, fixing my messy hair. I dab a bit of lipstick on my fingertips and press it onto my lips, careful not to overdo it. The truth is, I enjoy makeup, but I've never learned how to apply it properly. I feel embarrassed drawing attention to myself with bolder colors; after all, people are used to my lack of vanity. I sigh, steeling myself as I head downstairs to meet my mother.

She hasn't stopped talking about Jungkook. Unlike me, who had a good first impression, she despises him. She criticizes everything: his eyebrow piercing, his bold style, his tattoos, even the way he carries himself. I can't help but wonder if she accepted the dinner invitation just to analyze him, searching for flaws that exist only in her mind. She's been friends with Misuk since moving to town, and I want to believe–perhaps naively–that my mother doesn't have ulterior motives.

We arrive at church early, the space quiet with only a few members milling about. My mother drifts away to chat with the older congregation, and I find a seat, taking a deep breath. I scan the room for Mrs. Jeon but I don't see her. Since it's still early, I'm not too worried. I take a moment to read the Bible, reflecting on positive thoughts when I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder. I turn, and there he is–Jungkook, smiling brightly. I frown, almost convinced he's a mirage. Am I daydreaming?

"Hi Y/N, are you okay?" he asks softly, his lips brushing almost against my ear. His intense gaze locks with mine, and I'm relieved to be sitting down; my legs feel weak in his presence.

"Everything's fine," I reply, my eyes dropping to my fingers. I want to engage him, ask about his week, inquire how he's been, but the words stick in my throat. It's as though I can't act normally around him. I take a deep breath, mustering the courage to comment, "I didn't know you attended church."

"I don't," he laughs, amusement dancing in his eyes. And rightly so; considering his clothes–a heavy leather jacket, shaved sides, and a wavy fringe–it's sexy but definitely not what you'd expect at church. "I haven't been since I was a kid."

"Really? Why?" I ask, genuinely curious, my gaze drawn to his eyebrow piercing, oddly captivating.

"I didn't feel welcome," he replies simply. There's no bitterness in his voice, and I understand all too well what he means. My mother, for example, was the first to judge him based on his appearance, and I can only imagine how difficult it is to feel at home in a place where you're not embraced.

"I understand," I say, unsure of what else to add. "So, you came here to give it another shot?"

"No way," he chuckles. "Actually, my mom mentioned you two planned to meet at church today."

"That's true," I confirm.

"Unfortunately, she can't make it today. She's not feeling well."

"Is she okay?" My concern surfaces immediately.

"She's fine, don't worry. Just a headache, and she took some medicine. She'll be better soon," he assures me, his hand lightly touching my shoulder. I can't help but notice how warm and gentle his touch is. I shake my head, trying to divert my thoughts from Jungkook's hands to anything else.

"I'm relieved to hear that," I smile, noticing the church is starting to fill up.

"I'm actually inviting some friends over to my apartment, and I wanted to know if you'd like to join us," he says, brushing his fingertips against his ear, a bit shy. I'm taken aback; I didn't expect this invitation. He wants me to come over with his friends?

"And why?" I ask, surprised. It's been a while since we last saw each other, and we haven't talked much even then.

"I like you. I want you to come so we can have fun."

"If this is some kind of payment, or something like that... you really don't need to." I reply, not believing it. I don't have friends, and the thought that he wants to be with me and the people he likes seems absurd to me.

"It's not that. I'm even a bit offended." He jokes, smiling. "I really want you to come, please."

"Jungkook... I don't know."

"I swear they're nice. Every time I'm in Busan, we hang out. They're trustworthy, I promise."

"I can imagine," I reply, still hesitant. I'd have to leave church, skip the service, and ask my mother for permission to go out with him, and of course, she wouldn't allow it. No way. It's not that I don't want to; I desperately want to spend time with him. That's been on my mind all week. "I don't think it's possible; my mom..."

"I know," he interjects, as if he anticipated my response. "But what if, just this once, you say you are going to my mom's? We could say I'm taking you there when in fact, you're coming to my apartment."

"Are you asking me to lie to my mother in a church?" I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it. He shrugs, grinning.

"God knows it's just once," he replies confidently, pouting slightly. "What do you say? Later, I can take you to my mom's whenever you want, or you can stay at my apartment since I have more than one room. You set the time and conditions."

"Jungkook..." I groan, covering my face with my hands. The thought of lying to my mother, especially to go to a guy's house, sends a wave of anxiety through me. If she finds out, I'll be in big trouble.

"Come on! It'll be fun. I promise," he pleads softly. I can't say no to him, at least not now. I nod, agreeing to the madness.

"Okay, but you're the one who's going to talk to my mom. And if I say I want to leave, you agree. No alcohol because I know you drive. Those are my conditions," I assert, trying to sound firm. He smiles and salutes me, like a soldier receiving orders, and I slowly get up, taking small steps toward my mother. I let Jungkook lead the way, my nerves creeping back as I prepare to tell a lie in this sacred place.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Eunji. Good afternoon, everyone," he greets my mom and the other church members. My mother looks utterly shocked, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she takes in his appearance.

"Good afternoon, Jungkook," she replies, lacking enthusiasm, her gaze scanning him from head to toe. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to do a favor for my mom," he clarifies, and if I didn't know better, I'd almost believe him. "My mom asked Y/N to keep her company since my dad will be out of town for a few days. I came to pick her up."

"Really?" my mom looks at me, and I don't say anything, just nodding.

"It's true. My dad went to Daegu this weekend, and since my mom hasn't been feeling well, she asked Y/N to spend time with her. If you allow it, of course," he smiles calmly, and I brace myself waiting for my mother's response. I watch her weigh her options, glancing between Jungkook and me for what feels like an eternity before she sighs and nods.

"Alright, that's fine. Is your mom feeling okay?"

"Yes, she's getting better. Can we go now?" he asks, a hint of urgency in his voice.

"Yes, you may go," my mom sighs, placing a hand on her forehead. "It's a shame you're missing the service today, Y/N. Next week, you'll definitely come, okay?"

"Yes, mom, for sure," I agree weakly, clearing my throat and avoiding her gaze, still stunned that she let me go to Jungkook's house. Well, not his house, but is practically the same thing.

"Shall we go, Y/N? My mom is waiting," Jungkook says, raising an eyebrow. I nod, still silent, as we make our way toward the exit.

Some people stare, especially the older members, who seem shocked by Jungkook's appearance–too conservative, in my opinion. Somehow, the situation feels even funnier. Once we're sure no one can see us anymore, I burst into laughter, clutching my stomach. Jungkook chuckles too, exhaling as if he's just finished a tough exam and is finally free.

"Your mom is tough, huh?" he laughs. "I thought she was going to kill me with her eyes."

"Sorry," I say, still giggling a little. "She's like that with everyone."

"Even with you?"

"Even with me," I nod. "What do we do now?"

"Now, we go to my apartment. My friends have the key, so they're probably already there."

"Don't tell me they're all guys," I groan, suddenly anxious. I hadn't considered that he might not have any female friends, and I'd be the only girl at the apartment if that were the case.

"No, relax! I have female friends too. You'll like them," he assures me, walking toward a sleek black car parked across the street. I know nothing about cars, but I can tell this one is expensive. I feel out of place, acutely aware that Jungkook lives in a different world, one that's far removed from my own.

The tension in the car is palpable as we drive. The ride feels like it takes forever, the windows closed, and I'm intoxicated by his scent. I discreetly watch his large hands on the wheel, the way his long fingers tap rhythmically against the leather seat. I have to swallow hard to keep from drooling over him. I'm starving–not for food, but for him. All week, I've yearned to be near him, to touch him. I think I'm suffering from a Jungkook overdose, craving something I haven't even tasted yet.

I ponder whether he's aware of the effect he has on me, but I like to believe he hasn't noticed. It's easier that way. I breathe slowly, attempting to relax in my seat. It takes another ten minutes before Jungkook opens the gate to a condo with a small remote and drives in slowly. His car fits the place perfectly. Everything is stunning and upscale. I glance at my clothes and regret agreeing to come. Why did I say yes? I don't know his friends, and I don't know Jungkook that well, aside from the overwhelming attraction I feel toward him. What do I actually know about him? That he's a tattoo artist from Seoul? That he's rich and hasn't set foot in a church since childhood? I feel like I've walked into a situation that's spiraling out of control.

"Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You went quiet all of a sudden," he asks, concern etched on his face.

"I'm fine. Just feeling a bit strange," I admit.

"Why?"

"I don't know," I confess, omitting my paranoid thoughts. "I always feel like this in new places."

"I get that. I feel that way too," he tells me as we step into the parking elevator. I follow him, digesting this new revelation.

"You seem so confident and social," I comment, genuinely amazed. His big eyes meet mine as the elevator rises, floors passing by in a blur.

"I know, it seems that way. But in reality, I'm quite introverted. I have a small circle of friends and prefer it that way. I just fake it really well," he shares, and I find myself wanting to know more about the person behind the confident exterior.

"Really?" I ask, intrigued.

"Yeah," he nods, his expression earnest.

I try to respond, but the elevator stops on a floor, and Jungkook smiles at me, indicating that this is the right place. I feel one of his hands gently touch my waist, guiding me to a white door. I have to take a deep breath to keep from freaking out, my sweaty, trembling hands hidden in my pocket. I hear different music from the other side of the door before the place fully opens up to us.

"Hey, he's here! Finally, Jungkook!" I hear a male voice. It's a guy around Jungkook's age, I realize as soon as we walk in. His hair is a dark red, and his skin is pale and smooth. It's no surprise that his arms are covered in tattoos, drawings and phrases I can't read so far away. He also watches me closely, smiling warmly.

"Guys, this is YN, the one I told you about," Jungkook introduces me with a smile.

I turn red because there are at least seven people staring at me from head to toe. The apartment is well-kept, with dark wooden furniture. The living room is immaculate, with abstract paintings and photos of Jungkook and his family on the walls. I don't have much time to take everything in as my eyes focus on Jungkook's friends, who are strangers to me so far. Saying they're different from me would be an understatement.

They all have many tattoos and wear dark clothing. I sense an aura of confidence from all of them, but never hostility. It's as if they're very similar to Jungkook, with a completely different exterior from their inner selves. I relax a bit, smiling warmly and putting on my best expression.

"Nice to meet you all," I say, feeling a bit shy. They stand up and smile at me.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Yoongi. That's my girlfriend, Minji," says the red-haired guy, pointing to the woman who just smiles. I offer my hand, feeling his cold skin from the beer bottle he was holding earlier.

"I'm Bora, and this is my boyfriend, Jimin," one of the dark-haired women greets me next, pointing to her boyfriend. They're a good-looking couple, the kind you see in magazines. Jimin has the brightest and most open smile.

"Nice to meet you," I nod.

"I'm Taehyung, but you can call me Tae," one of the guys says, taking a sip of his drink.

"I'm Yoori, Tae's girlfriend. Nice to meet you," she winks, making me laugh.

"And I'm Hayun, the only single one in the group," one of the girls shakes my hand, pulling me into a hug. She kisses my cheek, making her presence increasingly noticeable.

"Hayun, you're only single because you want to be, come on," Bora rolls her eyes. Hayun laughs, grabbing a snack from the coffee table.

"I like being single, except when I'm surrounded by couples. Especially couples like you guys."

"Do you have a boyfriend, Y/N?" Jimin asks. Embarrassed, I shake my head.

"No," I reply. They seem surprised, making noises with their mouths.

"But Jungkook is single too, right?" The guy with dark hair says, drinking his beverage. I thinks his name is Tae, if I remember right.

"And I want to keep that way." Jungkook replys.

"Of course you do." Yoongi laughs along with his friends, rolling his eyes. I remain silent, not understanding the joke. Then Yoongi looks at me and seems to notice my confusion. "Y/N, Jungkook never dates. The only time he tried, it went so wrong that now he doesn’t want to do it again."

"It was a disaster." Yoori adds, as if telling a fictional story. Jungkook rolls his eyes, sighing, but his friend continues: "he’s been avoiding relationships like the devil avoids the cross since then."

"Really?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"It’s not true, Y/N." Jungkook smiles at me. "They’re idiots."

"That’s not a lie." Minji, who had been silent until then, clarifies. "He’s been asked out several times, and he always declines. Women go crazy for him, for some reason."

"I know what the reason is." Jimin laughs mischievously, suggesting something while raising an eyebrow. I turn red when they laugh at the joke. Jungkook doesn’t contest it, too busy eating one of the snacks on the table. "But what about you, Y/N? Have you ever dated before?"

"Never." I reply. They don't look surprised this time.

"So you're like Jungkook, who avoids relationships?" Bora asks with a laugh. I feel Jungkook's eyes on me, watching attentively for my response. I shake my head, feeling awkward.

"No, actually, it's just a lack of options," I clarify, deciding to be honest. I hold my hands together nervously.

"Now you have two options," Yoongi suggests with a chuckle. Minji hits his arm trying to stop him, but he continues: "There's Hayun, since she likes to try out a little bit of everything, like some pussy and shit."

"Oh!" I widen my eyes, shocked, as they laugh even more. It's the first time I've seen someone speak so openly like this. Embarrassed, I look at Hayun, but she doesn't seem to mind the comment, laughing with the others.

"Who would be the other option?" Taehyung asks his friend with his trademark grin.

"Our friend Jungkook, obviously," Yoongi clarifies, and I choke on the answer, coughing uncontrollably.

They laugh even more, watching me nearly suffocate from the joke. Jungkook pats my back, smiling widely. His thumb caresses the skin of my arm, waiting for me to calm down. We're so close that he inadvertently wraps one of his arms around my shoulder. I'm shocked and even more unsettled. For me, physical contact beyond my mom is rare. Hugs, affection... I'm just not used to it.

"Are you okay?" he asks amidst his friends' chatter. I nod, staring at my hands. "Sorry about Yoongi; he always makes these kinds of jokes. He doesn't mean any harm."

"It's fine," I assure him, feeling awkward, unable to look into his eyes. "I actually liked everyone."

"Really?" he asks, bringing his nose close to my hair. My whole body shivers as I realize he's smelling my perfume, giving a satisfied smile when he pulls away. "Good to know."

I stay silent, feeling his warm breath near me. Jungkook removes his arm from my shoulder, but his skin still brushes against mine when he takes off his heavy jacket, leaving him in just a T-shirt. His friends are fun and involve me in the conversation, making me feel comfortable, but the truth is that having Jungkook so close drives me crazy and I can't pay much attention. I wonder how long I'll feel this way about him. Will this strong effect never go away? This is the third time we've met, but something tells me that no matter how many times I see him-be it two times or a thousand-my heart will always race whenever he gets close and smiles at me.

I don't even notice the time passing and only realize it's late when Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung offer to take their girlfriends home, along with Hayun, who complains about not having anyone waiting for her at her apartment. Everyone leaves until only Jungkook and I remain. He promised to take me to his mother's house if I wanted, but I'm hesitant to ask as it's quite likely Mrs. Jeon is already asleep by now.

"Y/N, do you want me to get a towel for you?" Jungkook asks, tidying up the living room. I'm confused, picking up some empty soju bottles his friends drank to throw away.

"What do you mean?"

"You're not going to stay here?" he asks, furrowing his brow.

"Not really?" I laugh, then realize I might have been a bit rude, so I rephrase my response. "I mean, I don't think so. I don't want to be a bother."

"It's no bother. If you want, you can take a shower in my bathroom and sleep in the guest room." He offers with a smile. I bite my lower lip, unsure what to decide. I want to stay here, but it's just him and me now; is it really the right thing to do? It doesn't matter, Y/N. Just for one night.

"Okay then. Do you have a toothbrush, please?"

"Of course I do. Come with me, I'll get the stuff for you to use the bathroom." He calls me with a smile and walks down the long hallway. We pass by a few doors until we reach his room. My throat goes dry as my eyes scan the new space. His bed is large and covered with a dark gray blanket. The walls are white and everything is very organized, with a laptop next to the wardrobe and a fluffy black rug on the floor. His scent is everywhere, almost as if I'm breathing him. I clutch my hands together nervously about being alone with Jungkook in such an intimate space. He reappears after going to the closet, holding a white towel and some cotton clothes.

"You can take a shower in my bathroom while I use the guest one," he says, placing the items in my hands.

"Jungkook, that's not necessary..."

"Don't worry. I want you to be comfortable." He says before I can argue. His satisfied smile makes me not deny it again, happy to receive so much care from him. I just nod, agreeing. "The toothbrush is in the cabinet by the sink, in the package. You can open it, okay?"

"Okay, thank you very much." I smile before he walks down the hallway. I head to the door leading to the bathroom and sneak into the new space. I start thinking Jungkook has no flaws.

The place is as clean as the rest of the apartment, which makes me curious; does he clean everything himself, or does he hire someone to keep it tidy? I slowly take off my dress, grabbing my phone to text my mom and let her know I'm okay. I feel bad for lying, but the night was so good that I can't truly regret it. If I had to lie, to meet these same people, I would do it again. Thinking this surprises me, because just a few hours ago, I didn't think this way. The shower has a strong hot jet of water that massages my whole body, and it's so good that I have to convince myself to finish the shower and put on the clothes, trying to be done before Jungkook.

I brush my teeth quickly, smelling my skin that's still male fragrant with the liquid soap. I smile at myself in the mirror, brushing my hair with my fingers, trying to manage the unwashed strands. I open the bathroom door carefully, trying not to make too much noise and disturb the neighbors at this hour, when I see Jungkook again, this time only in a towel. I hold onto the doorframe, barely able to stand. A voice in my head tells me I shouldn't be watching him naked again and that I should turn around, go back into the bathroom, and pretend nothing happened, but I can't. I simply can't anymore. His muscular, wet back is in my field of vision as he searches for clothes. At that moment, my brain turns to mush and I decide to say what's been stuck in my throat.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" I muster the courage to ask him but I regret it immediately. What the hell am I doing? Jungkook turns slowly and the view from the front is a thousand times better than from the back. His whole body glistens in the light of the room, and his tattoos have never been so vivid. His body is muscular, virile and strong. I gonna lose my mind! Feeling new sensations I've never experienced for anyone before.

"Y/N?" He whispers my name with that soft voice he used when we first met. He doesn't seem surprised or embarrassed, which makes me even more unsettled.

"You're doing this on purpose, Jungkook?" I ask again. I have no idea where I got such courage and I don't know how long it will last. My heart feels like it's going to leap out of my chest. My whole body is on edge and sweating. I feel my hands trembling as I swallow hard. "You're trying something? I mean... you're not wearing clothes again and..."

"What do you think, Y/N?" he retorts suddenly, with a hoarse, deep voice. His eyes wander from my head to toes, as he raises an eyebrow along with his piercing, with a smirk at the corner of his mouth. My legs turn to weak twigs immediately, ready to collapse.

"I-I don't know." I stammer as he takes one step, then two and three, getting closer and closer to me.

"When I arrived from my trip to Busan, on the first day, I was tired and exhausted," he tells me, taking another step. I start to run out of breath, anxious and aroused. My cheeks flush as he speaks more slowly. "All I wanted was to rest and sleep the whole night, but that night I couldn't, not for an hour. Do you know why?"

"N-no..." I moan softly as his chest presses against mine. His warm, wet skin makes contact with mine, and I no longer know where I begin or end, pressed against his body. His pink lips curl into a wicked smile, as if he knows exactly what he's doing to me and it's all intentional. I shiver as his free hand moves up my wrist and grips the back of my neck firmly, making my eyes focus on his mouth and then his dark, deep eyes.

"A woman, next window, taking off all her damn clothes, completely shameless," he growls, pulling my neck closer to his face and pressing his lips to my ear. My spine tingles as I feel his teeth on my earlobe, in a bite that doesn't hurt but damn, it makes me shiver. My body contracts once and twice, and I know exactly what I'm feeling now: desire. The kind I feel occasionally when I try to touch myself alone and can't reach climax. The feeling I only have when I'm alone and confortable in my bed, trying to use my imagination even with the lack of real experience, but this is real, and it is infinitely better than what my mind could create.

"It was an accident, Jung..." I try to say, but my voice doesn't come out. The tip of his nose travels along a sensitive spot behind my ear, one I didn't even know existed, slowly moving down my jawline, discovering new paths. His hand tightens around my waist, keeping me in place, immobile.

"It may be that you didn't notice, Y/N, but I know you were watching me, even while I was undressing, even when you had every opportunity to stop." He argues with a smile, as someone who knows what they're doing and enjoys seeing the result. "And you know what's worse...? The worst thing is knowing the effect you have on me. From the first time I saw you in my house, with your innocent and curious eyes. I can't get you out of my damn head. Your mouth, your scent..."

"J-Jungkook... please." I beg, closing my eyes tightly. And I know what I want. I want him, since the first time I saw him. Since my eyes met his, I desired him so strongly that I couldn't think straight. He pulls away just a little, and I almost moan in a plea for him not to go. He sighs, pressing his forehead to mine.

"Can I kiss you, Y/N?" he asks in a very soft voice, and I nod because, despite all the things I believe in–God, hell, heaven and even my mother–nothing has ever been as adored as Jungkook. Since I met him, inexplicably, I only think about him, like a spell unable to contemplate of any other answer besides yes. I look at his eyes as they travel to my mouth, and I lower mine to his, exhilarated by that pink that only exists in him.

I move closer, my lips almost touching his, feeling the warmth of his breath. "Just kiss me, please." I murmur scared of what I'm doing; temptation clear in every word. And then he does.

Ask for a TAGLIST in the comments.

@ane102 @ttipa @joonwater

[cloudcountry]

a broken symbol ⤿ you bring toshinori out of his mind

comments: i have nothing to say...hello mha fandom...are we still here...

tags: sir nighteye is mentioned, fluff, established relationship, toshinori is whipped, retired toshinori, insecurities.

These days, it doesn’t take much for Toshinori to collapse. He’s been retired for quite a while now but still helps out behind the scenes, always the hero even though he deserves nothing but rest. He ends up excusing himself from his work every hour, only to run to the nearest bathroom and crumple over the first drain he can reach.

His side flares up with pain and he clutches the flesh, feeling the stretched and scarred skin that caused his health to decline so rapidly as he hacks up far too much blood. Despite everything—the scar and the blood he spits up and the way he really doesn’t have a quirk anymore and the way he can’t maintain his muscular form even if he wanted to—he still works.

And at the end of the day, his gnarled, gangly form drags its way over to you, the person he is finally able to love just a little bit, because the public knows he is All Might and he is still very much a target, and he knows he can still protect you but he’d rather not have it come to that.

Each day was harder than the last, more taxing on his broken and battered body. Even simple tasks like getting out of bed were becoming difficult, the scars and residual pain a constant reminder of just how beaten he truly was.

Why were you with a man like him?

What could he give you, really? He wasn’t young anymore, nor was he muscular or flashy. He couldn’t give you the life you deserved, with a partner the same age as you, in top condition, ready to spoil you relentlessly. Instead you got a run down, broken man, his muscles and glory gone. The only thing he could possibly offer you was his smile.

(Not the well trained one for the press, or the one he saved for victims during and after he saved them. The one that only his colleagues and his students have seen, the awkward one that droops a little on the right, the one that makes his eyes shut with peace he hasn’t known in forever, the one that accompanies a nervous laugh.)

He doesn’t notice your presence when he steps through the front door, muttering a soft “I’m home,” as he takes his shoes off in the doorway. You stand there, waiting for him with a ladle in hand, a cute apron wrapped around you. Your touch feels like an anchor when it reaches him, brushing his snarled hair away from his eyes. You look so concerned and it punches him right in the gut, guilt seeping into his expression. He feels so frail in front of you, like a giant skinny bug. Why do you treat him so gently?

Toshinori’s heart squeezes. He doesn’t deserve you. He’s pathetic, a broken symbol of peace, a reminder that he couldn’t do more for the people he wanted to protect, for his Master who bet everything on him, for young Midoriya who looked up at him with stars in his eyes.

You ask him if he’s getting in his own head again. Your words swim around his skull, only barely making sense as he ducks his head, lanky arms pulling you into his chest and holding you close. He doesn’t cry, it’s rare that he ever does, but he doesn’t stop the single tear that falls down his cheek. You hug him back immediately, pressing your hands into his back, and it feels so soft and warm.

What did he do to deserve something—someone—as soft as this?

“You’ve done everything.” you scold, holding him a little tighter.

How can you sound so gentle even when berating him for being pathetic?

No, that’s not what you were doing. You were just loving him.

“You’ve saved millions. You fought for them for decades. You stopped All for One time and time again. You’ve saved the world over and over. You’ve built society from the ground up.” you reprimand him for each mean thought he has about him, piecing him together from the ashes of his legacy.

He doesn’t say anything, slumped over on your shoulder, taking in your words like they’re the softest, sweetest thing he’s heard his whole life.

Everyone else wanted All Might. He was so, so lucky to find the person who loved Toshinori.

“I understand that the world isn’t safe yet, and I get that you will always be a hero at heart. It’s one of the many things I love about you.” you pick and choose your words carefully, he can hear it in your tone, “This is the life you chose and I won’t try to take it away from you. Just let me support you. And for the sake of the world, stop being so harsh on yourself.”

As he gazes at you, he can’t help but think that his world has narrowed down considerably since he retired. He entrusted the Earth to his students and colleagues, putting blood, sweat, and tears into the staircase he built for them, just so they could reach the highest peak and succeed in protecting everyone they cared for. He is, no matter how he feels about it, just a man now. And his world became you a while ago.

It feels selfish for him to admit that to himself. He will never stop caring about the public, the people who put their hopes and dreams on his shoulders and allowed him to carry their burdens for him, but you’re the only one who has ever really taken his burdens.

Maybe it’s because he never allowed anyone else to. He holds you just a little bit tighter, memories of friends long gone who pleaded with him not to go flashing through his mind.

“You will always be a hero, love.” you sigh, brushing his cheek with the back of your hand, “You will forever be my hero. But right now, I want you to just be you.”

That’s right. He shudders in your arms, a remnant of what once was, but this remnant loves you with every shattered bit of him.

“Right.” he says, voice low and soft.

He hardly has the energy to say anything else, but he knows he doesn’t have to.

Not when it’s you.

[jooillusion]

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙞𝙡𝙖𝙘 𝙝𝙪𝙚𝙨 — o. seungmin

[ outline. ] - one of you and your boyfriends favorite things to do together. he’s the painter and you’re his muse.

[ content + warnings. ] - college au, artist!o.de x reader + pet names, lingerie, kissing, suggestive but no smut, seungmin is a simp, they’re in love and it’s sickening, not proofread

[ word count.] - 2k

𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐒 .ᐟ this is quite literally inspired by my xdh lingerie reaction post if you want to check it out here! you don’t have to read it but i mentioned that the wardrobe is full of shades of purple, so this was a random thought turned into a fic lol. hope you enjoy!

seungmin’s clammy hands gather his belongings from the table as soon as the clock hits three pm. he didn’t want to endure another second of hearing his professor’s painfully bothersome voice piercing his ears, he could literally do anything better for an hour and a half rather than hearing them whine and moan about every single thing. besides, he was looking forward to going to his shared apartment and maybe cuddling up next to his girlfriend who’s most likely out of her classes and watching some television. he’s definitely prepared for what ever story she has bubbling in her throat for him as her fingers run through his hair, his head laying on her chest and his arms around her torso wrapped in a warm embrace.

he’s definitely prepared for what ever story she has bubbling in her throat for him as her fingers run through his hair, his head laying on her chest and his arms around her torso wrapped in a warm embrace. it became a routine at this point, so he wouldn’t be surprised if she was on their couch laying on her back waiting for him. the thought of it etches a smile onto his lips.

“hey seungmin,” seungmins head turns towards the voice next to him, his actions of putting his notebook in his bag halting. the voice belongs to jiseok who’s already all packed up and ready to go, his hand in his pocket and a grin taking over his features. seungmin raises an eyebrow. “wanna get some drinks with me and the guys tonight? it’s been a while since all six of us hung out.”

seungmin rolls his eyes, knowing that jiseok loves to exaggerate. it’s only been four days since he last saw all of his friends. 

“i have homework to do,” seungmin glances down at his watch to make his case more believable. “like right now.”

“bullshit.” he snorts. jiseok knew he was going to lie, since that was his excuse almost every single time he just wanted to go home in a rush. jiseok audibly sighs, his fingers pinching his nose bridge and his head shaking from side to side. “your only “homework” is that girlfriend of yours huh?” he makes sure to emphasize the word to at least fill seungmin’s gut with guilt. he’s proven wrong again though, since seungmin stands proud with no shame at all, the sheepish smile on his face full of pride.

“you sound jealous as if you wanna be my girlfriend.” seungmin coos as he finishes placing his things in his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and making his way towards the exit door of the lecture hall. jiseok scoffs and ignores his comment, trailing next to him.

“cmon man. ever since you two got together, it’s been like a rarity to actually see you out.” 

“that’s because i have priorities. and my main priority right now is doing my homework.” seungmin emphasizes just like jiseok did earlier, smirking at a disgusted jiseok who jokingly gags.

“ugh enough with the homework thing!” jiseok raises his voice in slight irritation and it only makes seungmin laugh. “you’re so gross dude.”

“i didn’t say which kind of homework i was doing.” seungmin’s purposefully obnoxious laughter dies down, his eyes not missing the scowl sewn onto jiseoks face. “hey, maybe next time dude. pretty sure she misses me more than you guys.” seungmin’s palm lightly pats at jiseoks shoulder, the supposedly reassuring gesture only making jiseok roll his eyes.

“yeah okay. that next time better be a promise.” jiseok finally goes his own way. seungmin shakes his head playfully as he watches the boy walk away, walking to his own car once he’s out of sight.

“it’s not even what he said it’s just the way he said it!” your voice rings through seungmin’s ears like a bell, the pent up frustration that you’ve been holding in all day slowly leaving as you rant to seungmin. he doesn’t mind at all, nodding his head after every sentence you finish. 

he sets the blank canvas on his easel, sitting upright in his stool and turning towards you. he can’t even feel bad since you’re sporting an adorable pout on your face. “you weren’t even listening were you?”

he chuckles and shrugs. “i listened enough to know this happened before.”

“and what is that supposed to mean?” you scoff and raise an eyebrow.

“it means that i know you so well. you know like a good boyfriend.”

“yeah yeah whatever..”

seungmin stands up from his seat. “c’mon babe i was just joking.” he wraps his arms around you, kissing your cheek. “you know i’m always on you’re side even if you’re in the wrong.”

you laugh. he was definitely being ridiculous, but it made you feel even more better.

“i guess boyfriend who just knows me so well.”

you hear him quietly snicker through his nose, the air hitting you’re ear. 

“how about you go ahead get ready for me, yeah? the sooner we start the sooner we could lie down.”

he lets go of you, nudging his head towards the bathroom down the hall. he watches you prance down the hallway and into your shared bedroom. seungmin follows a few seconds after once you’ve retrieved the bag from your bedroom, getting ready to step into the bathroom to watch you change. he’s seen your body countless times before, yet he always gets giddy just thinking about it as if he’ll see if for the first time again.

but what he doesn’t expect is the wooden door of the bathroom to slam right in front of his face. he stands still, not believing what just happened until he tries again, attempting too turn the knob only for it to not budge.

seungmin leans against the frame of the bathroom door from the outside, his arms crossed.

“and why am i not allowed to see my girlfriend of nearly a thousand years change again?”

“i want it to be a surprise,” seungmin hears from the other side of the door. “if you see me change into it now, it’d ruin the shock factor.”

“i was standing right next to you when i bought it-“

“yeah but you haven’t seen it on me yet, so get lost!”

seungmin rolls his eyes. he obliges your orders, quietly stepping away and returning to his stool. he preps his tools, squeezing paint onto the wooden palette and tying a smock around himself. he hears you open the door not too long after, turning his head to get a glimpse.

he’s once again met with nothing, only being met with your loud voice booming through the hallways.

“close your eyes and i’ll tell you when i’m in there!”

he sighs with the slightest tinge of irritancy, closing his eyes anyways. he hears a little bit of shuffling until he doesn’t, but feeling the presence of something in front of him, his eyes fluttering open once he hears your command.

seungmin feels as if his air is stolen straight from his lungs. the first thing he sees is the lace corset that hugs your torso just right, the decorated lace in the shape of hearts and in his favorite color—purple, the shade of lilac to be exact. his eyes follow the pattern down to the stockings clipped to the lacy stocking clipped to the corset along with some panties, all sharing the same shade of color.

he knows he’s gawking, his jaw growing sore but he can’t even notice as he debates whether or not he should follow up with the activity, instead trying to savor as much of the image in front of him as he can.

his hand unashamedly reaches out to touch, a light slap swatting his hand away.

“maybe afterwards babe.” you giggle, turning around to walk to the middle of the room. seungmin gets a full glimpse of the thin piece of fabric that sits in the slit between your ass. you weren’t wearing panties, you were wearing a full on thong. and it sends seungmin into overdrive.

he nearly chokes on his spit, clearing his throat and pushing up the glasses on the bridge of his nose. he peeks from behind the canvas.

“pose for me, love.”

seungmin watches you hesitate for a moment. it takes you awkwardly shifting–which is nothing but adorable to seungmin–until you’re satisfied enough with your pose. he waits until you’re fully ready, bringing his focus back to the canvas.

he takes his time, setting aside the thoughts of what he’ll repay you with later. for now he’ll just settle for mixing in the paint, not even needing to directly look at you to know, already having studied every single detail you possess. you watch seungmin’s focused face, him flashing a wink everytime you two lock eyes, causing you to smile at his antics.

as more time passes by, paint stains his fingers and smock. as more time passes by, your body starts to grow tired from standing in one position. as more time passes by, the sun starts to set, the rays seeping into opened blinds and hitting your skin just right.

“can you turn around for me? i wanna see more.”

you do an experimental turn, your backside facing seungmin and returning to your original pose, looking over your shoulder. he smiles and claps his hands together. the sunlight hits right at the curve of your shoulder and runs down your arm. you catch him as he’s staring dead on again, before shaking his head and going back to painting.

“are you almost done?” you ask, growing slightly impatient.

you could tell by the way he was looking at you every time he peeked from behind the easel something would follow up after your little session, his eyes wandering either way too low or too high. either way, it didn't bother you at all. your boyfriend’s attention was all you wanted.

he only nods his head silently at the fear of suddenly blurting his thoughts out too loud. seungmin strokes his paintbrush a few more times, setting it down along with his palette.

“i’m finished. c’mere and take a look.” you scurry your way over to him, taking a look at your boyfriends work. he watches your jaw drop, crossing his arms.

“you like it?”

“i love it. it’s stunning.”

he smiles, “you’re stunning.”

“i swear i knew you were going to say that.”

he laughs, pulling you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around your torso, his fingers tracing over the outlines of the decorated corset. you take the time to observe his work closely, noticing how he captured every part that you had considered a flaw, but perfect to him regardless. seungmin pulls you closer, lightly kissing down your neck.

“you smell good y’know.” he breaks the silence, nuzzling his nose into your skin.

you turn your head, giving him an eye roll before placing your lips onto his, his colored fingers cups your cheek. you let him pull you closer to deepen the kiss, your own hand coming up to grip the back of his head and delicately pulling at his hair. it quickly grows heated, seungmin’s tongue welcoming itself into your mouth to which you happily allow him in.

it’s messy and it grows hot. it makes your grip in seungmin’s head tighten, the noise traveling from his mouth to yours.

“wait,” he pulls away, the bottom half of his face already flushed and his lips swollen. “let’s take this to the bedroom.” his lips curl into the smirk that you know all too well. to your surprise, seungmin hooks his arm under your legs and lifts you up, carrying you down the hall and into the bedroom, kicking the door closed.

the abandoned artwork sits at the easel in the middle of your shared living room, just a few inches away from where you were previously standing just a few seconds ago. maybe once you two finish with whatever you’re doing, you’ll retrieve it and add it to your personal collection for only you and seungmin to see and forbidden to anybody else. at the moment though, you two could care less if somebody could walk in and see it.

[lostalioth]

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

→ premise: there existed no such cricumstances in which dean doesnt want your lips against his. bloodied, bruised, even with broken bones, a kiss from his girl makes it all better.

→ pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

→ warnings: tw: blood, fluff, but some sort of instense making out, established relationship, blood, descriptions of blood and injuries, blood in mouth, nicknames [baby, sweetheart, my girl], reader is described a bit to have anxiety

→ a/n: as always i hope dean isn’t too out of character as i have never written for him! enjoy my loves :) and sorry its short.

A hunt had gone south they got the monster and it was done but Dean was injured, they were headed back to the bunker. That was all Sam spit out over the phone, normally you appreciated his ability to get straight to the point. Currently you were cursing it as he hung up shortly after cause he was the one driving back. You had a million and one questions running through your head and more than half of them weren’t good.

This was the part of the boys going off hunting and you saying back that you hated the most. When one of them got hurt or something went wrong and all you could do was sit there, a chill running down your spine as your blood boiled in your veins, anxiously pacing the living room, trying to not let yourself jump to the worst conclusions which you regularly failed to do.

You used to go on hunts with them and instead of you currently being the one riddle with anxiety, it was Dean. Once the two of you pulled your heads out of your asses (as Sam would say) and realized you’ve had feelings for each other for years, you got together. Being officially together seemed to make Dean's protective nature increase tenfold. He was even more terrified to lose you now than before. He began fussing over you whenever you'd get even the slightest scarpe or bump on a hunt. He would glue himself to your side the whole duration. Forcing you to normally stay back in the motel room when the hunt turned into a more dangerous situation than dean cared to put you in.

You loved Dean but it began to get a bit too tedious to deal with and even Sam made a comment on how overprotective he was being. In an attempt to make hunts go easier and ease your boyfriend's anxiety, once you all situated yourselfs in the bunker you suggested to him that you go out on hunts less, especially when they could now take Cas. Dean jumped at the suggestion but you couldn't blame him.

“I think that's a great idea baby” he said with a kiss to your forehead.

You still helped out, researching things when Sam needed the help, going through old books and files in the library, patching them up when they’d come back with cuts and bruises. You hadn't realized just how jittery you'd be however stuck in the bunker when he was out and especially when they went on far away hunts.

They'd go to the hospital when things were really bad, so you knew if the boys were on their way back then it couldn’t be too bad. The reminder did nothing to sooth your racing thoughts, your heart thumping so hard you could practically hear it pounding in your ears. You didn't know just how long you've been pacing back and forth, too afraid to look up at the clock and realize it's only been a few minutes since Sam called.

You don't hear the sound of baby pulling into the garage, your head is too clouded as you were damn near about to wear a grove down into the old floors. The sound of a door shutting loudly and two sets of heavy footsteps are heard down the hallway. Spinning so quickly on your feet you nearly lose your balance you turn to face the noise. Watching as the brothers emerge from the dark hall, Dean's arm rests on Sam's shoulder almost using him like a human crutch. You let out a small gasp making them stop and both of their eyes snap up to yours, whether you gasped in surprise at the state of your boyfriend or in relief you can’t tell.

“Hi sweetheart, We’re home” Dean tilts his head, his voice laced with his usual sarcasm and deep tone. He pushes off of Sam, clearly able to at least stand on his own, slowly making his way over to you a small limp in his step.

In the blink of an eye you’re rushing into his arms, your soft hands grabbing ahold of his beaten up face and crashing your lips against his. He grunts out a “fuck” in surprise or pain the word dying in his throat turning into a noise as his eyes fall shut and he grabs ahold of your hips. With a sharp tug he pulls your body as close as he can to his, his hands sliding up your sides. His bloodied lips against your plush ones, kissing you like a man starved, a kiss you’ve come accustomed to when he comes home from longer hunts. “Missed you” he hums in a hushed tone into the kiss for only you to hear, making your racing heart only speed up. His blood flows into your opened mouth as the kiss goes on, the metallic taste on your tongue foreign but you were far too relieved he was back in one piece to care about the blood coating your tongue.

Any pain Dean felt after the whole ordeal and from the bumpy ride back to the bunker seemed to fade from his body. He could care less about his brother's presence still in the room or the blood still dripping from his face and that covered his clothes or his split lip. It felt as if all the bruises that were forming on his body were already being kissed away as your soft lips slid against his. The taste of your mouth overcoming the taste of the blood in his, your scent calming his body, reminding him he's finally home again. Your body grounding him.

A rough deep cough stops the moment making the two of you reluctantly pull away, lips swollen and parted as you catch your breath.

“Before this gets any more R-rated maybe we should patch him up and you know clean him up” Sam suggested with a small light hearted chuckle as he walks off to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. You were grateful you remembered just yesterday that it had needed to be restocked. “Sorry Sammy” Dean calls after him, you turn your head away and follow up with a “Sorry not sorry” down the hall after him making a small smirk grow on your boyfriend's face.

Once he's out of eye sight, Dean grabs ahold of your face by lightly squeezing your cheeks and turns your head back to face him. Leaning down to begin softly kissing you again, groaning against your lips when the pain in his body begins to return.

“Who needs a first aid kit, all i need is my girl's kisses” He mumbled softly against your mouth, making you break out into a smile. A small tear slips down your cheek, your breath returning to your lungs and the chill in your spine fading as relief finally settling over your body knowing he's okay.

→ a/n: if you enjoyed please reblog or send me some dean requests id love to write more for him!

[cels-not-so-secret-love-affair]

required reading (sirius/remus)

a/n: this is just a fluffy few words of wolfstar, really. they’re a little bit in love.

‘Tired yet, Moons?’ Sirius skipped the last two steps of the staircase down to the common room, and flopped down next to his friend, hair swinging behind him.

‘Only a tad,’ mused Remus, flipping a page with his wand. Books floated effortlessly in the air before him, and a little distance away a candle sat on the coffee table, flaring in time with each inhale and exhale of his breath. Outside, the sun had sunk into its usual slumber, and time had begun to pass in the liquid, dreamy kind of way it often does at night.

‘D’you really have to be reading this late? What’s it even for anyways?’

‘Charms.’ Remus’ eyes were vague and far away as he answered.

‘Mate, Flitwick won’t care if you miss a deadline for a reading. Come to bed?’

‘Absolutely not.’ Sirius elbowed him gently in the ribs and sighed when he was batted away.

‘Rem, I’m serious. You’re his favourite student, besides Evans - you could be stood over a dead body with a smoking gun and he still wouldn’t believe you murdered someone. He’ll let you off this once.’

Remus snorted.

‘I’m well aware of who you are, Sirius. And I don’t fucking care if Flitwick will give me an extension, I’m finishing this book on time.’

Sirius paused to regard his friend more closely, taking in his ink-stained fingertips, his messy curls. His eyes were tired, but his jaw was set with a firm and quiet determination and something told Sirius not to push it.

‘Fine. But give your brain a break, and let me read.’

‘I don’t want you pitying me, Padfoot,’ came the reply, as the book in question was vehemently yanked out of Sirius’ reach by an invisible string.

‘I’m not pitying you, you self obsessed fuck. I can’t sleep, and I reckon reading’ll help take my mind off things. Now give over, and swap places with me.’ A resigned grunt of agreement, and the two rearranged themselves, attempting to accommodate for Remus’ lanky legs and Sirius’ tendency to sprawl. Eventually, they settled down comfortably, with Remus leant sleepily against Sirius’ shoulder.

‘Christ Moony, have you read all of this since dinner?’

‘Mm.’

‘You’ve done well.’

Remus laughed a little, and averted his gaze so that he was staring into the embers nestled in the fireplace.

‘I do my best,’ he replied quietly.

Sirius felt a sudden wave of admiration for his friend in that moment. His friend, who worked himself to the bone trying to make up for the days he spent in bed each month, trying to prove he was worth looking at as something that deserved a future. His friend, who, even on the brink of exhaustion, would still entertain the Marauders’ antics with a smile and a sarcastic comment and a suggestion or two. His friend, who would attend every single Quidditch practice without fail, despite having very little interest in it, just to watch the people he loved succeed. His gorgeous, gorgeous friend with those deep, kind eyes that smiled even when his mouth didn’t and his pretty, lilting accent and- this was not the time. Sirius turned his attention back to the book, trying not to think about the warm weight of Remus’ body against his own, or how he smelled so pleasantly of parchment and chocolate and cologne.

‘Where am I picking up from then, Rem?’

‘Top of the right hand page.’

‘Gotcha.’

An hour or so passed, and the book drew to a dull close with a final chapter on the Proteo Charm. The darkness outside had deepened, and thickened, becoming viscous and heavy. It pressed against the windows, making the common room seem even cosier in contrast. The air was warm and sleepy, the fire completely entrancing, and for a moment after Sirius finished speaking the two of them sat in silence to let the last of the consonant softly fade away.

‘Thanks, Padfoot.’

‘Anytime, Remus. Anything for our Moony.’

[world0fmadness]

UNHOLY DEITY

øystein “ euronymous ” aarseth x reader x pelle “ dead ” ohlin

♡ general throuple dating headcanons for euronymous and pelle!

୨୧ what’s better than one metal boyfriend? well, two, obviously! the person who requested this in the comment section of two is better than one seems to have deleted their account so i just marked this as an anon request <3

♡ requested by anon | related hc available here, here and here | view my metal masterlist here

reading music recommendations: pagan winds return by decayed - ageispolis by aphex twin

♡ pelle is very much an observer in this relationship…

୨୧ but not in a creepy way and not in a way where you and euronymous are leaving him out of couple activities or really anything even like that!

♡ pelle just enjoys to admire you two sometimes, he likes to watch the two of you and not get in the middle

୨୧ this is usually especially common on the infamous days where pelle doesn’t have a huge want or need for physical touch

♡ pelle will just sit back and watch you and euronymous as you engage in a sloppy make out session, admiring the way your mouths open to allow your tongues to meet, watching as you grind your hips down on euronymous’ lap as he holds your hips with pale hands…

୨୧ he just really likes to watch you two get lost in each other, get lost in love… he is kind of a voyeur but neither you nor euronymous mind at all, always inviting him to join but sometimes he just doesn’t feel like it and would prefer to simply watch

♡ again, you and euronymous do not purposely leave him out of things! pelle makes the choice to watch on his own and it isn’t always like this…

୨୧ a lot of the time, pelle will join you when he feels like some physical touch and affection won’t hurt him! he’ll come over to you as you sit atop euronymous’ lap, his lanky frame standing over you from behind as he leans down to you, your head tilting back to meet his lips in a messy kiss whilst euronymous chuckles and runs his hands along your hips

♡ or even when you and euronymous are doing mundane daily tasks like washing the dishes together, pelle will quietly come up behind you and simply hold your hips whilst bringing his head down to rest his chin atop your shoulder! smiling just a little as you tilt your head to plant a kiss on his pale cheek which quickly blossoms into a rose red blush when euronymous pats his opposite cheek with a soapy, wet hand and coos at the two of you

“ you’re blushing pelle, you love her kisses, hm? give him another kiss, vakkar ” ( euronymous laughs softly as he says it, only causing you to shove him gently before giving pelle another kiss on the cheek and stroking his other cheek, noticing how warm they are with blood rushing to them as he blushes even deeper )

୨୧ this notion of enjoying to observe you and euronymous also comes into play when sleeping!

♡ when pelle doesn’t fall asleep with you and euronymous, he just really likes to watch you guys…

୨୧ again, this is not in a creepy way though! he does not watch you guys in a creepy way

♡ i suppose the right word would be admire, pelle really likes to admire you and euronymous as you both sleep… he likes to admire your faces as they’re completely soft and at rest, likes to watch as you and euronymous cling to each other even in the fog of sleep, his eyes glistening fondly as euronymous stretches a leg over yours and you reach a hand over to his chest…

୨୧ pelle just thinks you both look so at peace, so safe and beautiful! he could watch you two all night, probably even going to grab his sketchbook to draw the two of you, replicating your sleeping forms with love and dedication, trying to put your beauty down on his paper the best he knows how

♡ sometimes, after a while of drawing, pelle will start to get tired… his eyes becoming irritated and sore as he fights to stay awake, a very obviously losing battle as he sighs deeply before putting his sketchbook and pencil down on his desk, standing up and taking steps towards your shared bed, trying to tread quietly as to not wake you or euronymous

୨୧ pelle will either climb in between you and euronymous, both of your bodies automatically shifting in your shared sleep to let him get in the middle before you cuddle into him slightly, your head coming to rest on his chest as euronymous throws an arm over him

♡ or he’ll get behind you in a big spoon position, letting you cuddle further into euronymous’ chest as pelle cuddles you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder as he looks over at euronymous’ soft, sleeping face…

୨୧ it never takes him long to fall asleep with you two by his side, he feels… protected and at peace, as if he’s been taken to some kind of wonderland of serenity where he has no thoughts of harm or death, no thoughts of leaving

♡ and when you guys wake up, it is just a mess of limbs and long hair spread like halos against the pillows, legs tangled and blankets rustled

୨୧ none of you ever want to get up and out of bed though, the three of you are just so warm and comfy, so at peace as you quietly talk to each other about your plans for the day, accents stronger and voices deeper as they still wake themselves up

♡ euronymous is usually the first one to actually step out of bed, only to go take a piss, yelling back to you and pelle to ask if you want some breakfast, making you look over at pelle and ask him the same question in a soft voice, smiling as pelle nods his head a little before cuddling back into you more as you yell an answer back to euronymous

୨୧ your breakfast is never incredible, none of you really know how to cook all that great but especially not euronymous nor does the band shared house ever really have a lot of amazing food supplies in stock

♡ he usually just comes back to the room with three hot drinks balanced in his hands, cursing slightly under his breath at the heat burning his pale hands as he places them down on the bedside tables before jogging back downstairs to grab the food which consists of fruit and cereal, the fruit mainly being for pelle who enjoys just shoving the whole fruit into his mouth and getting eating over as fast as he can

“ argh! fuck, burning my damn hands… here, vakkar… made you some hot chocolate and pelle, some tea for you… let me go grab the breakfast, got some fruit for you too, pelle ” ( pelle asks euronymous if his hands are okay so quietly, speaking up just before he leaves the room with a near silent voice as euronymous looks back at him and smiles, smacking his hands together and assuring pelle he’s fine, waiting for pelle to nod in response before leaving )

୨୧ having two boyfriends who are in the same band together means you go to their band practices with them whenever you can!

♡ they both really like when you come along with them, both say that with you around, they perform much better… you’ll often be the one recording the band practices for them, shooting them both smiles and blowing them kisses from behind the camera, euronymous always throwing some lewd gesture back to you whilst pelle simply smiles back, long blonde hair messily covering his face from his headbanging

୨୧ it’s the same with concerts too! you always go to their concerts whenever you can, helping them get ready backstage, helping them with their corpse paint and other things

♡ you always help pelle with his corpse paint first, knowing he’s the much less grabby and horny one, he won’t be constantly trying to turn it into a make out session like your other boyfriend

୨୧ pelle more so just sits and lets you do it, holding your hips softly as you sit atop his lap, straddling his hips as you slowly drag the black painted brush across his face, laughing when you see his nose twitch from the ticklish feeling which causes him to smile up at you

♡ whilst you’re doing this, euronymous sits off on a chair to the side, watching the two of you with a cheeky smirk but not particularly saying much, just waiting his turn

୨୧ and his turn is always a stark contrast to pelle, euronymous is like a rabbit, always horny and wanting more! the second you lift a leg over his lap and go to sit, he’s grabbing your hips and pulling you down onto him, leaning his head up for a sloppy kiss before you shove him back, telling him to quit it as you begin to paint his face before feeling his hands reaching to your behind and groping your ass…

♡ you never let euronymous go too crazy, just letting him feel you up as much as he wants but always pushing him back when he leans up for what you know would be a sloppy kiss, not wanting to ruin the corpse paint you just spent your time doing for him…

୨୧ euronymous will usually look over to pelle who is either watching the two of you with soft eyes or staring into the mirror in front of him, asking him if he’s all good and prepared for the concert before helping you get up and off his lap

“ hey, pelle… you alright? everything all ready and fine? good… come on, vakkar, up and away we go ” ( euronymous will drag you in for a sloppy kiss before going on stage, he has to! and pelle, well he’s more content with a simple, soft kiss on the lips as you stroke his cheek, wishing him good luck as he pulls away )

♡ neither euronymous nor pelle ever really get jealous of each other!

୨୧ both of them are very comfortable with the affection you share between them and how you even it out, they never really feel that one is more loved than the other or anything like that

♡ maybe earlier in the newly formed throuple, pelle would’ve been slightly insecure and jealous watching whenever you kissed or showed any major affection to euronymous but you could always tell something was up and would ask him about it, both you and euronymous comforting him and assuring him that you love him just as much, proving it then and there by littering his pale face in butterfly shy kisses

“ pelle, come… you know she loves you, right? and you know i… care for you? don’t be silly, vakkar, show him ” ( euronymous still might have a little trouble saying out loud that he loves and cares for pelle, it’s just how he is, just an affect of the times, but he’ll work up to it )

୨୧ once the throuple relationship has been going on for a while, i think pelle would really lose almost all of his jealousy though some insecurity would remain but that’s something you guys easily help him with!

♡ pelle needs assurance in any type of relationship, it’s just how he is! and now, he has two partners to give him all the assurance and love in the world which he appreciates more than anything…

୨୧ when it comes to being jealous of other people though? yeah, that’s definitely much more common, from both of them

♡ they’ll watch for a short while, watch as someone obviously flirts with you as your face is entirely uninterested, both of them standing side by side as pelle roughly picks at some loose threads on his jeans and euronymous crosses his arms tightly, both of their eyes staring at the scene in front of them

୨୧ surprisingly, pelle is the first to mumble something down to euronymous, something about how they should get the person and torture them somewhere in the woods which causes euronymous’ eyes to widen slightly before looking up at pelle and smirking

“ yeah… yeah, that’s a damn good idea, pelle! you got a lot of good ideas in that swede brain, you know that? ” ( this will only cause pelle to blush slightly before he looks back over at you, seeing as you walk back towards them having finally gotten rid of the person yourself )

♡ when you come back over, euronymous will jokingly huff and tell you they were going to come over and deal with them, tell you about how they were planning to take them out to the woods and do some unsavoury things but this only causes you to laugh and lean up to pelle, kissing his still blushing cheek and asking if that would’ve been his idea to which he simply nods shyly, bringing an arm around you and leaning down to place a kiss on your lips

୨୧ you guys are a strangely lowkey throuple! not like you mean to be though, i mean in more of an accidental way!

♡ most people assume you’re dating euronymous, since he’s the one who is more openly affectionate and always kissing up on you, groping you and holding you! so when people see you kissing pelle or really doing anything affectionate with him whilst euronymous is away, they are quick to report back to euronymous, calling you just about every definition of a cheating whore under the sun as euronymous stares and strokes his chin sarcastically

୨୧ the second the snitch walks him back over to where he saw you loving up on pelle, euronymous immediately turns it into a huge joke and looks back at the person, gesturing towards you two and laughing

“ this? oh satan below, would you look at this? my vakkar, my one true love, is cheating on me with… her boyfriend! urgh… well, time for you to leave, hm? ” ( the person simply stares in shock and confusion for a good couple of seconds before mumbling and walking off, shaking their head as if trying to wake themselves up because no way euronymous is… sharing you, right? )

♡ even after so many instances of this happening, your throuple relationship is still not insanely known to people! either that or people take it as a joke, but the people who do know about it, like your close friends, are very uncaring towards it! they just want to make good music and party, who cares? and that’s good enough for you guys, especially for pelle who isn’t too fond of much extra attention…

୨୧ when pelle wants to go for a midnight walk in the forest surrounding the band shared house, you’ll almost always go with him but euronymous is a different story!

♡ euronymous is like a cat, when he’s comfy and warm in bed, he does not want to leave! and usually you’ll leave him to it, letting him get some sleep as you and pelle talk a nice walk but sometimes, just sometimes, you’ll tease him… sighing softly and saying well, you’ll just have to enjoy the lust of the full moon with pelle and pelle alone, oh well… hearing pelle snicker slightly and the implication of what you might get up to in the woods? that will almost always wake his horny self up and get him walking with you, complaining the whole time about how damn cold it is as pelle rolls his eyes, mumbling back to him about how it isn’t even that cold as you laugh between them, appreciating their friendly banter back and fourth, appreciating the side of pelle that so few people ever see

୨୧ y’know how i mentioned pelle being a bit of a voyeur up at the top of this? yeah, this very much comes into play during sex too

♡ pelle isn’t always in the mood for sex, just as he isn’t always in the mood for physical touch, but he does want to watch you be pleasured, he wants to watch as euphoria takes over your face

୨୧ so, sometimes he just watches as euronymous takes you… sitting on his desk chair or even just the bottom of the bed and watching with glazed over eyes, watching as your glistening bodies move together and listening to your shared moans fill the small bedroom

♡ pelle might masturbate whilst watching but sometimes, he’ll just… watch, he’ll admire the dance of intimacy take place in front of him, studying how your body takes to euronymous’ and if you ever reach your hand out to pelle? still engaged in a sloppy, mid thrust, make out session with euronymous? he’ll gladly lean over and take your hand in his, letting you squeeze it as euronymous hits that perfect spot inside of you, staring right into your eyes as you look up at him

୨୧ i don’t think pelle would ever be the biggest fan of double penetration, it just feels a little too cramped for him so when he has sex with you and euronymous, he either likes to spit roast or simply take turns having you, letting the other catch their breath in between rounds

♡ either way, this relationship is surprisingly casual and normal, none of you ever felt weird or crazy in it, you just felt right <3

[theelizamanelli]

Tengoku

Reina Iyashi wants a normal, mundane existence until Satoru Gojo takes a special interest in her uncanny ability to bring people back to life (or so Itadori says) and offers her a job as his assistant at Jujutsu High. Tags: 18+, satoru gojo x female oc, boss x assistant, golden retriever x black cat, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, romance, blood and violence, implied/referenced death link to all chapters link to ao3

——————————————————————————————————

Chapter Eleven

——————————————————————————————————

Reina closed her laptop with a huff, staring out the window. The sun was beginning to set over the treeline, a clear indication it was time for her to return home. She found herself hesitating to do so - her thoughts full. 

She had not been able to stop thinking of the kiss. It permeated her mind at nearly every waking hour - the shower, the kitchen, at work, and worsened when Gojo looked at her. It was as if he knew what was racing through her head. 

The interaction would inevitably end the same way - Reina avoiding eye contact with a blush staining her cheeks and Gojo refusing to let her be with a tease slipping from his mouth. 

Leaning her head back, Reina sighed - her shoulders slumping. The softness of Gojo’s lips haunted her. How he had deepened the kiss by pulling her back, she could feel the heat begin to grow within her at the mere thought.

Reina pressed her thighs together, warmth spreading up her neck. She couldn’t help but wonder what other things his mouth could do. Her right hand glided over her skirt before sliding up her thigh, Reina bit her lip.

“Are you ready, Iyashi?” Gojo shoved the door open, Reina nearly jumped out of her seat - knocking over the papers on her desk. 

“Please, don’t you know how to knock?” She quickly dropped to her knees to pick them up. Willing her face to cool down. 

“What were you doing?” Gojo asked suspiciously, leaning over the desk to watch her. 

“Nothing, it’s been a long day. I was-” She paused, struggling to find the word. “Relaxing.” 

She settled on that, though if she had been honest she was about to touch herself to thoughts of Gojo. Reina would be lying if she said that was the first time since they returned from the inn. 

A fact she was deeply ashamed of.

——————————————————————————————————

“What?” Gojo leaned over Reina, one hand holding onto the bar above her head - the other hidden in his pocket. “I think I deserve one.”

She rolled her eyes, turning her head to the side. Gojo pouted slightly,  “Just one kiss. I helped you all day.”

Reina looked into his glasses, his blue eyes peering slightly over, “You bothered me all day. There’s a difference.”

“And you loved it,” he responded indignantly, straightening up as the subway came to a halt. 

Reina sighed, the comments had been endless since they had arrived home. Any time she would drop off his letters he would purse his lips expectantly, earning him a smack on the mouth.

She learned quickly this was not a deterrent but rather emphatic encouragement. 

Exiting the transport, Gojo lingered a step behind her as they ascended to the street. He stepped in front of her, walking backwards as he recounted how they had all witnessed Fushiguro being hit on. Describing in great detail, his animated hands striking through the air. 

Reina laughed at the vision of Fushiguro reacting to the three as they more than likely misread the situation. 

He pouted, “Not our sweet, naive Megu-” he stopped abruptly as a young girl bounced off of his limitless effect, stumbling forward.

Reina reached out to steady her but the girl yanked her arm out of range, “Watch where you’re going, lady!” she shouted.

Her brows furrowed, her eyes blinking rapidly. The girl glared before pushing past her, hurrying down the street.

Reina whipped around, “Listen here, brat! You better respect your elders!” she scrambled to follow her. 

The girl’s short brown hair ducked in and out of the crowd. Reina pushed through the throng, apologizing intermittently. The kid slipped into an alley, she sprinted down the brickway screeching to a stop as it came to a dead end.

“Where the fu-” Reina muttered, looking around frantically.

“Listen, brat, I will find you!” she yelled into the sky, “So help me!”

Gojo leaned down, “Yeah, you really got her, Iyashi!” he nodded his head in faux solidarity.

“Shut up,” she responded, her head swiveling to look for any small openings she could have slid through.

“Now, what do we have here?” she asked, crouching down to examine a corner of the ground - a hole burrowed to the other side. A green curse sat, too engorged to fit through the opening.

Gojo peered over her, “A curse? Interesting.”

“Very,” replied Reina. 

——————————————————————————————————

Reina slammed a piece of paper onto Gojo’s desk, fixing him with a sinister smile. She slid her hand out of the way to allow him to examine it.

It was a school picture, a young girl with dark brown hair glared up at Gojo.   

“Found her,” she stated triumphantly, her eyes darkening. 

“Scary,” said Gojo, leaning his head back and turning the photo over.

“Very,” Fushiguro concurred, sitting in the corner of the classroom reading a book.

“The school sent over information about her,” she smiled as she pulled the documents out of her bag.

Gojo examined her carefully before responding, “How did you manage that?”

“I lied and said I was her long lost aunt trying to reconnect.” she responded, flipping through the papers absentmindedly.

“Is this how you always act? Lying to get what you want?” he teased, mocking her with a grin.

Reina looked up at him, a small smile tugging at her lips before stating, “Pretty much.”

She sat at the counter later that night, reading through the information.

Name: Sakura Fukanaga

Sex: Female

Age: 11 

Parents: Deceased

Home Address: Sanya Children’s Home

Reina’s grip tightened on the paper, her eyes re-reading the last three words. She set the documents down, her mind flashing with memories. Her jaw clenched as she shook her head, standing from the counter she threw the stack into her bag.

——————————————————————————————————

Sanya Children’s Home

Reina stared at the worn lettering on the building, her foot tapping the ground. She had been standing at the same spot on the sidewalk for five minutes, the Spring air hugging her bare legs as she willed them to step forward.

“Whatcha doin’?” Gojo inquired, settling in next to her.

Reina jumped slightly before groaning, “What are you doing here?”

“Well, it’s rare that my assistant doesn’t show up to work. Thought I should investigate.” he replied, staring up at the building - reading.

“It’s Saturday,” she responded, her tone flat.

“Oh, well, that makes sense.” He shrugged before walking towards the door, “Are you going to go in or keep staring at it for another five minutes?”

Reina huffed, taking a few tentative steps towards the entrance - careful to avoid the cracked wood near the frame. She wiggled her big toe reflexively. 

Children of all ages raced through the corridors, giggling as they hopped up the stairs. There was an open space to the right that contained various couches and chairs, a few girls sat there coloring. A dining area spanned to the right, a long table sprawled through the middle. 

An older woman stood scolding a child for sliding down the bannister, as the boy walked off with his head hanging she turned towards them, “How can we help you?”

The woman faltered, “Reina?” she gasped, rushing forward.

“Hello, Ms. Shimuzu,” Reina responded sheepishly. 

“We thought you were dead!” Ms. Shimuzu shouted. “Went to your apartment and there was an eviction notice on the front! The landlord said you had disappeared with all of your stuff!”

Reina winced at the tone, slumping her shoulders as she fidgeted with her blouse - her eyes roaming the floor. 

“Six months, Reina! SIX MONTHS we haven’t heard from you!” she yelled, reaching for her shoulders. Gojo slid in between the woman and Reina, a smile plastered to his face.

“Hello, Satoru Gojo. This troublemaker’s boss, may I ask who you are?” he asked politely, gesturing behind him where Reina hung her head.

Her hands stopped short of his body, she looked up at his glasses before responding, “My name is Ms. Shimuzu, I run Sanya Children’s Home. I used to take care of Reina Iyashi though it seems she’s moved on to,” She paused and trailed his length with her gaze, “other things.”

Gojo cocked his head to the side, staring down at the woman. Ms. Shimuzu peered around him, fixing her sights on Reina.

“What do you have to say for yourself, girl?” she asked sternly.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Shimuzu. I really was going to write a letter at least but,” She faltered, she didn’t know why she hadn’t reached out. This woman was as close as she would ever get to having a mother yet she still treated her like a child. 

“I’ve been keeping her so busy at work,” Gojo finished for her, leaning down to catch Ms. Shimuzu’s attention. “Obviously raised well, she’s such a diligent employee,”

Flattered at the compliment, she puffed up slightly - leading them to the living room area.

“So, why did you deign us with your presence, Reina?” Ms. Shimuzu inquired, casting her a sideways glare. 

Reina swallowed hard before responding, “I’m looking for someone. Her name is Sakura Fukanaga.”

Ms. Shimuzu let out a deep sigh, “Oh, god, what did she do this time?”

“Nothing,” replied Reina hurriedly. “I want to talk to her, that's all.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll have a lot to converse about. That is, if you can get her to cooperate.” she said dismissively, she gestured to the stairs. “Her room is on the third floor, 39.”

They headed up the long spiral staircase, Reina stared down at the wood - the tension palpable. 

Gojo leaned down, “She’s a delight,” he said in a low voice, holding a hand up over his mouth in an attempt to muffle his words.

Reina didn’t respond, her stare fixed on the steps. 

Approaching the door, they could hear a young girl talking to someone with no response. Reina scrunched her face, reaching a hand out to knock on the door.

“I’m busy!” yelled out an irritated voice.

“Too bad!” Reina shouted back. The door was yanked roughly, the young girl stood in the opening - glaring up at her.

“You’re that lady on the street,” she said, her gaze trailing her up and down. 

“And you’re that brat who has no manners,” Reina responded, walking forward into the room. 

“Better than being some old maid, towing along a white haired freak.” Sakura retorted, scoffing as Reina passed her. 

Gojo gasped, one hand reaching up to smooth back a tendril that had fallen over his glasses. Reina whipped towards Sakura, her eyes ablaze.

“He’s not some freak, well-” she halted, Gojo was a freak but the young girl had no business criticizing him. “He has many quirks but he doesn’t deserve to be ridiculed by some snot nosed kid.”

Sakura’s brows furrowed, “Listen, lady, what do you want?”

“You can see them, can’t you?” Reina asked, her eyes softening as she stiffened in response. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” responded Sakura. She had let go of the door, walking over to the desk to sit down. Gojo leaned against the frame, his eyes darting back and forth between the two.

“You’ve always been able to see them but now it’s harder to ignore them,” Reina stepped towards her. “You can feel them, they track you down sometimes. They hurt your friends but they don’t know why.”

The girl's eyes widened, her breathing increased as Reina continued. 

“No one else can see them and they don’t believe you when you tell them. They make fun of you, call you names,” Her voice softened. “Is that why you were running? That green curse was chasing you?”

“Leave me alone!” exclaimed Sakura, standing up from the desk.

“We can see them, too,” Reina responded calmly, gesturing to Gojo. “Let us help you.”

“Get out!” she yelled, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

Reina walked out of the room, watching as Sakura slammed the door. 

——————————————————————————————————

Slowly following the sidewalk up to the apartment building, Gojo fell in step with her. He glanced at Reina intermittently, it had been a quiet walk home. He had made various comments that would normally warrant a swift smack - instead she hadn’t even furrowed her brows. 

This seemed to greatly unsettle him.

Riding the elevator, they exited onto their floor and stopped abruptly. Sakura sat outside of the door, looking up and making eye contact with Reina.

“I can see them,” she said softly.

“How did you beat us up here?” asked Gojo, looking around for whoever had accompanied her.

“I’m really fast,” she replied with a shrug.

Reina opened the door, gesturing for Sakura to enter. Gojo peeked around the corner, ensuring there hadn’t been someone who had driven her. Reina shot him an incredulous look, waving her hand - an indication to hurry inside. 

He held his hands up defensively, sliding past her through the entry. 

They settled into the living area, Sakura sat cross legged on the floor - staring at the carpet. Reina fidgeted with her skirt, hoping she would break the silence. 

“So? Anyone seen any good animes lately?” Gojo inquired, clapping his hands to his knees.

Reina and Sakura glared at him - the young girl shook her head before stating, “There’s something in the attic.”

The two leaned forward as Sakura continued, “Ms. Shimuzu keeps it locked, I hear noises coming from it every once in a while. It became a dare to see how close you could get to the door. My friend Misaki got all the way up there but now she’s,” she paused, swallowing hard. “...different.”

“How so?” replied Reina, smoothing out her skirt.

“I don’t know. She’s just…weird now. She mumbles to herself a lot and stays up all night.” her brows furrowed, sadness saturating her expression.

“We’ll help you,” Reina stated, standing from the couch. Gojo stared up at her before returning his attention to Sakura. He stood abruptly, settling in next to her.

“Yes, we will,” He said, saluting the young girl.

“Are you always this weird?” Sakura asked. 

“Yes,” responded Reina - stifling a laugh. She patted Gojo on the shoulder comfortingly as his face fell.

——————————————————————————————————

Reina stood outside of the orphanage, admiring the building - memories of young girls playing in the front yard streaking her memory. She smiled before striding towards the entrance, Gojo lagging slightly behind her. 

She held out her arm, pointing out the splintered wood frame, “Watch out, that’s how I ended up with six stitches in my toe.” Gojo hopped over it gracefully before walking into the familiar space.

Sakura stood at the bottom of the stairs, motioning for the two to follow. 

The staircase gave way to another level, filled with various hallways containing rooms for the children.

“Where is the attic?” inquired Reina as she took a few tentative steps forward. 

“Over there,” Sakura pointed down a long hallway with no doors that led to a weathered staircase. The lightbulb that illuminated the space flickered intermittently.

“Spooky,” whispered Gojo.

“Very,” responded Sakura.

Reina walked to the staircase, investigating the area. Gojo stepped next to her, sliding his fingers along the bannister.

“There’s cursed energy here but not as much as I thought there would be,” he mentioned before climbing the steps. 

“I don’t feel anything,” commented Reina as she followed him. Gojo broke the lock and pushed the door open.

The wood flooring spread forward giving way to a large window that overlooked the street. The space was filled with boxes lining the walls haphazardly, a thin layer of dust coating the room.

Reina rummaged through one of the boxes closest to her - full of pictures, awards, keepsakes of a stranger. She threw it a puzzled look before moving on to the next.

Sakura stood at the top of the stairs, hesitant to take a step into the space. Gojo walked over to her, standing protectively next to the bannister, “You’re safe,” he said comfortingly. 

She faltered before entering the room, glancing at Gojo momentarily before stepping past him. Sakura walked to where Reina was standing, peering over the box. 

“That’s Misaki’s parents,” she pointed at the picture. 

Reina jolted, a realization hitting her as she turned to examine the room, “These are all the belongings of these kid’s dead families,” she said to Gojo.

“That’s a little morbid,” he replied, picking up a baseball from another box - tossing it in the air. 

They continued to search the room in an attempt to gather information about the curse, Sakura sat on the floor looking through photos.

Reina rested next to her, gazing over her shoulder. “They died in a fire,” she stated - pointing at the picture of Sakura and a young woman holding onto a young man. “Dad told me to run as fast as I could,”

“I was around your age when I lost my family,” Reina said softly. “I blamed myself for years, I didn’t talk until I was eleven. Like a personal punishment.”

A tear slipped down Sakura’s cheek as she caressed the photo, “How did you stop?” she whispered.

Reina paused for a moment, thinking of how to respond, “I found people who make me feel something,” she stated. “They taught me that I did everything that I could,”

She put a comforting hand on Sakura’s back, “That is all anyone can ask.”

——————————————————————————————————

The three investigated various portions of the house to no avail. There weren’t any obvious signs of a curse. 

“Maybe we can come back,” reasoned Reina as they had finished searching the last closet. “If you see something, you can call us.”

Sakura hung her head momentarily before meeting her gaze, “Please, I know it’s here.”

A crash sounded from the attic, echoing down the steps. Racing back in its direction, the three re-entered the room

A cloud of dust was settling in the wake of a thrown box - glass sprinkling the ground. 

A small face peeked from behind a box, ducking quickly back into its hiding spot.

“Found ya,” said Reina. She pulled a kaiken from her thigh, walking towards where it had been last.

A box flew through the air, Reina dodged it quickly. Gojo jumped out of its way as various items slid across the ground. 

The curse scurried along the wall, its body resembling a little boy with red scales. It leaped towards Gojo who knocked it back, it splayed along the ground before recovering - racing in Reina’s direction.

She braced herself for the impact, it sprung into the air towards her as she knocked it to the ground - the kaiken connecting with the side of its face, narrowly missing the neck. 

Reina cursed and prepared herself for its next action. Gojo stood behind it, waiting.

The little boy bounded across the ground towards Reina, sliding in between her legs. She whipped around to see what its strategy was. 

Sakura stood a few feet away, in front of the window - watching as the curse raced towards her. She shakily spread her feet and raised her fists. Reina sprinted in their direction.

The boy clawed at her, Sakura dodged it taking a step backwards. Reina hit the curse to the side, her arm extending forward for her. 

In a moment, Sakura was colliding with the glass as it shattered around her - falling. She reached out her hand in a desperate attempt to save herself, a gasp the only sound that escaped her lips. 

Reina grasped her hand, pulling her to her body as she slipped through the window. She tucked Sakura tightly to her chest and turned herself so that her back would be the first to hit the ground. 

They careened towards the concrete, Reina reasoned that there were worse ways to die than for someone else. 

In her last moments, she did find herself regretting not telling Gojo how thankful she was for him - she hoped he knew how much he meant to her.

She shut her eyes tight as Sakura screamed, preparing for the impact. 

Suddenly her body lightened, falling softly into strong arms. Reina opened her eyes, Gojo stared down at her with a look she had never seen before.

Sakura gripped her tightly, she sat up and looked around frantically before they both slid from his arms to the ground.

“Why is it that you are so quick to give your life for others?” He asked, a hint of anger in his voice.

Reina faltered - she had never heard him take this tone. “I don’t know, it’s a worthy cause?” she replied.

“There are people who need you here, Iyashi.” he stated, staring at her intently. “You are useless to them dead.”

He turned and walked back into the building, he had eliminated the curse in the altercation - she could see its body hanging from the window pane. 

Reina wrestled with Gojo’s words - the only people who had cared whether she lived or died had perished fifteen years ago. The idea that anyone needed her was foreign. 

She could think of no one immediately who would even inquire if she disappeared one day. Even Ms. Shizumu abandoned her search eventually. 

Her eyes widened as a sudden thought crossed her mind. Reina could think of one person who would never stop looking for her. 

Was it possible that the one who needed her most was Satoru Gojo?

——————————————————————————————————

Note to reader: Listen, I know what you guy's want. Let's just say...soon.

——————————————————————————————————

chapter twelve

[cloudwisp]

✮ sylus x wife!reader

contents: fluff, suggestive. arranged marriage au. hints of slow burn. you like playing hard to get and he loves calling you his wife. 1.4k wc.

꒰ note ᰔ I had to deposit my messy thoughts somewhere and this headcanon post was the result.

part two here. ꒱

⭒ Arranged marriage with Sylus where he prefers to call it a “strategic partnership” as a means of appearances to flaunt that he has it all—an empire, riches, strength, influence and now a darling wife who waits for him at home. You’re not so much as a random choice, Sylus had been watching you from afar for a while and in exchange for his protection in the N109 zone he strikes a deal with you to play a simple role. You have every reason to be wary of him and know to keep your wits about yourself, but even you acknowledge that your chances are better with him. Though, if you asked him how he was so certain you’d agree to his proposal he’d admit that he wasn’t but he knew you’d consider it if he had an advantage over you.

⭒ He sets his terms and conditions—you reside in his humble abode, wedding ring always worn on your finger, and attend events with him as a pretty accessory on his arm to contribute to his image. But he’ll never admit that he actually enjoys your company at business functions that often feel dull to him. You are more than welcome to spend your days as you please so long you don’t cause him trouble, and that also means you have his black card privileges to spoil yourself rotten. Of course, he accommodates most requests you may have like sleeping in separate rooms if that’s what you wish (and redecorating because his furnishing decisions are quite bleak).

⭒ Luke and Kieran can sense that their boss feels something for you despite his nonchalance toward this little arrangement. It starts off small, it always does—Sylus takes note of your morning and night routine, your picky eating habits and has the chef make adjustments to your preference, how he sees you out in the gardens and come back with spring tulips to brighten the space and the next week he already replaced the slowly withering flowers with fresh ones. The twins whisper among themselves that he’s often less annoyed and irritated when you’re around, and their boss wouldn’t go through the trouble of being considerate unless he cares for you. It’s almost exciting for them both to witness a budding romance unfold before their very eyes and they do offer a helping hand here and there to keep things interesting.

⭒ Sylus thinks it’s adorable how you keep trying to resist him and that’s precisely the reason he loves seeking you out just to watch your resolve crumble under his touch. He finds you in the kitchen preparing a snack and cages you from behind with his hands planted on either side of you against the counter. “Hey kitten, I thought I’d find you in here.” You feel his hot breath down your neck as he pushes your hair aside just enough to lay a soft kiss on your shoulder. He chuckles when you comment that he’s being awfully touchy with you, and he purposely moves closer so that his chest is pressing against your back. “Perhaps I just can’t keep my hands to myself where you’re involved. Besides, you’re my wife now. I think I have the right to touch you whenever I like.”

⭒ You remind him that you’re his wife in title only, but that doesn’t discourage his flirtation and teasing as he allows you to nudge past him. He follows you into the common area and takes a seat on the couch, spreading his legs wide and taking up a lot of space. His gaze is settled on you as he pats his thigh and his lips curl into a smirk. “Come here, wife.” You naturally scoff meanwhile you place the plate of seasonal fruits on the side table and situate yourself closest to the armrest, taking a bite into a juicy red strawberry as you ignore his piercing stare.

⭒ For someone who always gets what he wants, Sylus isn’t used to being defied like this. And had it been anyone else his patience would wear dangerously thin, but he supposes that you’re a special exception because he seems to enjoy the chase and claiming its reward. With one small gesture, he drags you across the couch by a gravitational pull and you squeal when the swirling red easily turn and maneuver you so you’re forced to straddle him and your hands prop on his shoulders for support. “There, much better. Comfy? This is the best seat in the house.” His gaze locks with yours, and he thinks you huffing and frowning at him is simply cute. He firmly grabs your wrist with the bitten strawberry in your hand and lifts it to his mouth for a sweet taste.

⭒ “No fair… using your Evol against me like this.” You grumble under your breath as you gently trail your thumb from his chin to the corner of his mouth where the strawberry juices began to spill. Then an impulsive thought takes over and you pinch his cheek between your fingers, creating a sticky mess on his face. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself. That’s for treating me like a sack of potatoes.” He chuckles once more, his hand falling on your hip and he gives you a light squeeze. “Oh, I do have every intention of fully enjoying my wife tonight.” And by that, he means taking you out for a joyride on his motorbike and feeling your arms wrapped around him tightly as the engine roars through the streets under the night sky and sinking moon. Sylus would never engage in any intimate acts you weren’t ready for, but he loves seeing you fluster at his suggestive remarks.

⭒ As the weeks cross over into months, you never imagined that you’d be spending so much time with Sylus outside of your agreed terms. He’s everywhere in every waking moment of your life even when he’s not there physically. You’re learning new things about him each day and you (begrudgingly) like being around him—even when he can sometimes be a playful bully toward you. When he’s gone for long stretches of time to deal with negotiations and other important matters in the N109 zone, you can feel your heart yearning for him but you’d never say that you miss him out loud when you think he's still toying with you. But with the way he cares for you like you’re both in a real and genuine relationship, it’s hard to know his true intentions and keep your feelings buried deep inside your chest for long.

⭒ You accidentally confirm that Sylus does harbor romantic feelings for you when you carelessly bring up your replacement in a lighthearted joke. You’ve never seen his face falter so quickly at your words as he averts his gaze for a moment to collect himself—a hint of vulnerability in his crimson hues. “I wouldn’t have found a new wife.” He shakes his head and tells you, his voice a little rougher than before. You don’t know what to say, but you manage a soft “No?” that reaches his ears. “No. I wouldn’t have been able to replace you, kitten. You’re it for me. The only one. No one could fill the void you’d leave behind.”

⭒ You and Sylus have kissed before, but this is the first time you’re initiating it. As you brush your lips against his, there’s a softness you never noticed. His hand slips around the small of your back and he pulls you close against him, returning your kiss with the same tenderness as though savoring the taste of you. You lean back after a moment, your palm meeting his cheek in a sweet embrace. “You know, I'm still getting used to the idea that I’ve fallen for you.” You can see him returning back to normal when he offers you a cocky smirk. “And yet here you are. In my arms, with your lips on mine. I think you’re not being entirely honest, my beautiful wife.” Sylus has waited a long time to hear those words from you but you don’t need to know that right now.