d-lanx · 7 months ago
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avatar-anna · 1 year ago
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When You Fall In Love...
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so i've been reading icebreaker and it's been putting me in the hockeyrry mood
part one, part two, bonus, bonus
Harry watched from the empty stands as Y/n ran through her routine for the fifth time. Her teammates had gone home, her coach asked Harry if he would lock up on the way out, and now it was just the two of them in the empty rink. There wasn't even any music playing anymore, Y/n was just skating and performing her tricks as if there was.
Every time she did it, it was flawless. Her routine was fast and intense and incredibly difficult, but Y/n performed with ease every time. She landed her tricks like they were nothing, tricks which Harry now knew the names of and could tell the difference between a lutz and an axel. She was incredible, and he was in awe of her every single time.
But even in her perfection, Y/n had yet to smile once.
Harry decided she'd had enough after she finished her fifth run-through, quickly jogging down to the edge of the rink before she could skate out to the middle again. He leaned over the barricade and kissed the top of her head. This close to her, he could see her rosy cheeks and heaving chest, a sign that her routine did wear her out, despite making it look so effortless.
"You were phenomenal as usual, baby," Harry said while he gathered her things.
"I bobbled a landing and my timing was off for a whole four counts," was her reply.
Harry frowned, not pleased by her recent negativity. Any athlete could be critical of their ability, but Y/n seemed uncharacteristically hard on herself lately, and he had no idea why. "Everything okay?" He asked, shouldering her duffle bag as they walked away from the rink.
"I'm fine."
She certainly didn't sound fine, but Harry decided not to push. Not now, anyway. Changing the subject, he said, "I got an email from the recruiter. I should be receiving my contract soon."
Excitement didn't even begin to cover how Harry had been feeling lately. Last week, he'd met with an agent of a minor league hockey team, one that was a feeder to an NHL team. He expressed their interest in Harry moving to the east coast after graduation and join them for spring training. And after giving it some thought, Harry accepted.
He was over the moon, thrilled that years of hard work was finally paying off. He'd made his passion into a career, and had the potential to really make a name for himself. Life couldn't have been better.
But where Harry seemed to be flying high, Y/n seemed stuck. She was happy for him when he told her the news, had gone out to celebrate with him that night. But something felt off between them. Harry couldn't put a name to it, but he just knew.
"That's great," Y/n said with no amount of enthusiasm in her voice. Harry tried not to take it to heart, she was clearly in a mood from her practice. She was under a lot of pressure too, he reminded himself, and sometimes had a knack for not knowing how to express herself with words.
"Is there something on your mind? You've been quiet recently," he said, hoping he wasn't overstepping her delicate boundary.
Y/n shook her head as she approached her car, sliding into the driver's seat without a word. Harry couldn't help but feel more and more like there was something on her mind, but he let it go again.
Before pulling the car out of the parking lot, Y/n rested her hand over his and leaned in to kiss him. "I'm sorry. I've just got a lot on my mind."
"It's okay. As long as you know you can talk to me about it."
Her throat bobbed, but she nodded, then turned her focus toward the road. Harry filled the silence with rambling. He talked mostly about the NHL, about his contract and where he wanted to live and how everything was happening so fast.
So caught up in trying to break the tension, he didn't notice Y/n's white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel.
*.*
"Styles! What the hell are you doing? Focus up! Let's go!"
Harry rested his hands on his knees, breathing heavily during the brief pause in the game. His eyes flicked up to the stands, searching the crowd for a familiar face, but he didn't see the one he needed the most.
Despite being recruited by a minor league hockey team, Harry was probably having the worst game of his life.
Not one pass connected, he was letting second-rate players get by him, and he'd spent more time in the penalty box than in the actual game. Nothing about this was right, and still all he could do was look for Y/n.
She wasn't there, and even though things had been weird between them recently, he was still surprised. When she wasn't at a competition of her own, Y/n came to every one of Harry's games. It had started out as Harry wanting to impress her, maybe show off a little, and then as time went on and they grew closer and their relationship became more than two people having sex in secret, he wanted her to be there just because it felt good knowing she was watching him play. All his nerves floated away when Y/n was sat in the stands, sometimes in his jersey, cheering him on.
And of course there were times when she couldn't come, but this wasn't one of those times. Y/n had purposely not shown up. He knew they'd fought before the game, but he didn't think she would abandon him just to be petty. They were past that now.
His sole focus should've been on the game he was playing, but instead his mind kept drifting to the fight.
Harry could feel Y/n pulling away from him. He finally felt like he was getting everything he wanted—a spot on a minor league hockey team on the east coast that would eventually lead him to the NHL, graduating with semi-decent grades thanks to Y/n, and of course being with his dream girl. At first, she'd seen him as some douchey athlete that was only good for one thing. He remembered seeing her for the first time their freshman year, performing tricks on the ice that he'd only ever seen on TV, and when he whistled and clapped loudly—perhaps a little obnoxiously—after she'd finished, she'd rolled her eyes at him and told him to fuck off.
It was love at first sight.
Harry had been so careful around Y/n. He played by her rules and followed her lead, trying not to let the comments about them not dating get to him too much. He liked their initial dynamic, finding it funny when he got under her skin because she made it so easy. It became a kind of game, this push and pull that was fun and exciting and eventually led to their arrangement.
He knew that she cared about him on some level, he just needed to bide his time and show her he wasn't who she thought he was. Not entirely, anyway. And when she finally did, and they became more than just people who screwed around, everything was perfect.
They'd been through so much together. Y/n pushed Harry to be better, and he worked with her to master new tricks and nail her routine. There wasn't anyone else who understood his level of commitment to hockey, but she did, and that just made him love her more.
So when he got the call offering him a spot on the minor league team, Y/n was the first person Harry told. She'd been happy for him, and he was over the moon, his mind already making a million plans—where they'd live, her coming to his games, him helping her find a new rink to train at. It felt like the doors to a new and exciting world had opened for them, but she then she started pulling back, and Harry practically watched as that door slammed shut.
Harry pushed himself to focus back on the game, on the hockey stick in his hand and the ice beneath his skates. He felt like it took more effort than it should've to get his head back in the game, but his team managed to pull out a win, and he managed not to get benched before it happened. That didn't stop his coach from ripping him a new one in the locker room, but Harry sat there and took it, shaking his head and promising his piss poor performance would never happen again.
Exhausted both physically and mentally, he trudged out of the locker room and toward the parking lot, debating whether to take the bus home or call an Uber. Even in his senior year, he still didn't have a car, but Y/n was usually there to give him a ride home. To their home. Moving in together for their last year of school seemed like a no-brainer, and it had been amazing so far, though the last week had been kind of a disaster. Harry could feel the tension between them growing, but every time he asked Y/n about it, she'd say she was fine even though they both knew everything was not fine, and the cycle continued. He wanted to be excited, he wanted to celebrate the success he'd managed to create for himself, but he felt rather deflated instead.
To Harry's surprise, Y/n was waiting for him in the parking lot. He didn't hesitate putting his gear in the trunk and coming around to sit in the passenger seat. Y/n leaned in to kiss him immediately holding onto the sides of his face fervently.
"I'm sorry," she breathed. "I'm sorry for not being here tonight and I'm sorry for acting strange, and I'm sorry for—"
"Y/n, what's going on with you?" Harry couldn't help but ask.
"Can we wait until we get home to talk?" She asked. I want to be able to talk to you properly, and I can't if I'm driving.
When Harry nodded, Y/n must've deemed it enough. She peeled away from the rink, silent tension filling the air between once again. It had been following them around all week.
That ended tonight, though. He didn't care how much Y/n hated confrontation or hard conversations. They couldn't move forward if they didn't move past this roadblock first. Harry loved Y/n more than he ever thought possible, and stubborn as she was, he knew she loved him just as much. He would get to the bottom of this, no matter how hard she tried to fight him on the way down.
*.*
"Y/n, you know I would be ecstatic if you'd told me you qualified for the Olympics. This is a huge step in my career! Why can't you be happy for me?"
"I am! God, Harry, I am."
"Then why are you pulling away from me? I feel like I can't be excited about this around you when you're the one person who should understand how this feels."
"I can't do this. I can't have this argument with you," you said, trying to step away from him.
Harry was quick to grab your hands in his, keeping you from walking away. "What aren't you telling me? Do you want to break up?"
"No!
"Do you not love me anymore? What? What is it, Y/n?"
"God, I didn't—I didn't ask for this," you cried, feeling like a damn had burst inside you. It was out now, and now you had to see it through to the end. "I didn't plan on falling in love with you. I wasn't prepared to love you this much. You're the one who wanted to take things further, and now you're—"
You're leaving me, you couldn't bring yourself to say. You really were happy for him. All of his dreams were coming true, and he had an ambition that matched yours, which made you love him more. And now that ambition was taking him far away from you, and you weren't handling it as well as you thought you would.
"Y/n—"
"I'm happy for you, H, I'm so happy for you that I could burst. And maybe even a little jealous," you joked, though there was some truth to what you said. "But I guess I just...I guess I didn't expect to love you this much. And I don't—I don't know what to do because you're going soon and I'm..."
You had no clue, and that alone was terrifying.
At the start of all this, you never imagined falling in love with Harry. He drove you absolutely insane, and despite your physical attraction to him, you kept your distance. But he kept doing these things that made you like him, and eventually care about him, and finally made you fall in love with him. It just wasn't something you saw coming. Love was definitely not on the brain when you met Harry.
Because you knew this moment was inevitable. The moment when one of you would be given an opportunity you couldn't refuse and would pull you away from each other. Once upon a time, you thought you would be given your dream job of a lifetime—competitive skating and hopefully the Olympics—but somewhere down the line, skating stopped bringing you joy, only pressure and anxiety. And now Harry had his dream job on the other side of the country, and you were left to flounder and wonder how you would survive waking up without him next to you.
"You're making it seem like it's a bad thing that you're in love with me," Harry said quietly, but the low tone of his voice didn't hide anything. You knew he was getting upset. After all the avoidance the last week—on your part—yours and his emotions were coming to a head.
"It's not! It's just that you're leaving!" you said, resisting the urge to run a frustrated hand through your hair. "And all week you've talked about how excited to get out of here and leave this all behind and start a new chapter in your life. I mean, would it kill you to act like you're a little torn up about leaving?"
It was so selfish, and you knew it was. It was why you'd been avoiding Harry, this conversation. Harry had every right to be proud and ecstatic for leaving to play in the professional league. He worked so hard, pushed himself farther than anyone you'd ever met, except for maybe you. Your pain was clouding your good sense, and now you'd shown just how horrible you could really be.
You couldn't look him in the eye after saying what you did. Even if it was how you felt, you still felt ashamed for raining on Harry's parade. "Y/n—" he tried to say when you hastily wiped a tear from your eye.
"I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry," you said, getting up from the couch and scurrying off to your bedroom.
Flopping on the bed, you pulled the covers over you, trying to hide from everything happening around you. It was too much. Your senior year was supposed to be fun and full of unforgettable memories, not arguments and heartache.
You weren't sure how much time had passed before the door opened and Harry slipped inside. He slid into bed next to you, and you didn't fight it when he rested his face in the crook of your neck. Because despite everything you were feeling, this was all you really needed.
"I'm not leaving you behind," he murmured gently. "You mean too much to me."
You sniffled, and Harry pulled you closer to his chest. "You're going to be thousands of miles away."
"Says who?" he said, kissing your cheek. "Who says you aren't coming with me?"
"And do what?" you huffed, even though the thought slightly lifted your spirits. "Be one of your...puck whatevers and follow you around like a puppy? I need a life of my own too."
You were being stubborn and argumentative and you both knew it. There was some relief in knowing Harry wanted you with him, but you also didn't want to just move because Harry was. You needed purpose, you needed to feel like your life had some sort of direction in it. But it was unfair to put all of that on Harry, and you didn't know how to express how you felt without sounding insane, so instead you said nothing, and that obviously went over brilliantly.
Harry chuckled. "See, because you just said how in love you are with me, I can tell that you're frosty attitude is just an act. Now turn over and look at me."
You reluctantly turned over, brow furrowed exaggeratedly because you couldn't cross your arms over your chest. It used to infuriate you how easily Harry could get under your skin because he knew you so well, that he knew just what to do or say to pull you out of a bad mood. In this moment, you were thankful. He could see past all the harsh words and see to the root of the problem. You'd said some things that were perhaps out of order, but Harry understood. Despite everything, he understood.
"You've worked just as hard as me, Y/n. I want to be there for you the way you've been for me. You can achieve your goals too."
"I just...I don't know if I want to achieve them anymore," you said quietly.
It was the first time you'd said it out loud. Since you'd learned to skate, there had only been one goal: the Olympics. Getting there wasn't just a matter of training, it was about devoting your life to your craft, it was barely having a life outside of training and competitions and giving all your time to winning. And after spending nearly your entire life doing it, you felt yourself slowly burning out. You'd go through your routines flawlessly, but your heart wasn't in it. All you could think about was the future—the next competition, the next training session, the next qualifier. It took seeing Harry so happy about being drafted to the minor leagues to realize the fire had gone out in you. Thinking of Olympic qualifiers and training and affording coaches and costumes and picking the right music only filled you with dread when you should've felt joy.
"Oh."
"But I don't know who I am if I don't have skating."
"You don't have to compete to skate, you know," Harry said. He rested his hand against your cheek, rubbing his thumb along your temple lightly. "You can c—"
"Oh God, don't say coach," you groaned. "It's perfect. You'll be a hockey superstar and I'll be the washed-up figure skater who couldn't handle the pressure of being an athlete and wound up coaching instead."
"I know you're being like this because you're scared, and that's okay," he said. "But I'll help you find a new dream, Y/n. I promise."
You had to blink away tears because your heart couldn't take how much he cared about you. "Even when I've been a complete bitch?"
"You haven't been. I'm sorry if you felt like I was leaving you behind. I guess in my mind we would always be together, no matter where we ended up."
"God I hate how much I love you sometimes," you grumbled while flinging yourself on top of Harry and holding him tight. "It's too much, you're too much, and I can't stand it—"
"There's a compliment in there somewhere, right?" Harry asked, but you could hear the grin in his voice.
Sitting up, you perched yourself on him, your legs straddling his waist. Dipping down, you made sure your noses were brushing, but you didn't close the distance. Not yet. Your heart was racing simply because Harry had been so kind to you, because he knew you so well and said exactly what you needed to hear. It felt ridiculous to know that there was a time when he pissed you off so much you saw red, that his teasing remarks and cocky grin grated on your nerves. Now you didn't want to imagine a life without him.
"I'm sorry for saying all of those things," you murmured. "I really am proud of you. No one deserves this more than you do."
Harry's hand reached up and threaded through your hair, his fingers gentle as they passed over your scalp. "I know you are. And I mean it, Y/n. I'll help you. I know you love to skate, we just have to find a way to channel that into something else. If not coaching, maybe performing?"
"What? Like Disney on Ice?" you asked skeptically, your nose wrinkling at the thought.
Harry shrugged as his hand dipped beneath your shirt to stroke your back. "You'd be a cute princess."
"With my luck, they'd make me a tree."
"Then you'd be the cutest tree there ever was."
Shaking your head, you nudged your nose against his again. "Can we hit pause on talking about the future? I just want to be with you here. Right now."
"Course," Harry said, one corner of his mouth turning up into a crooked grin. "And then maybe we can circle back to you being my puck whatever."
"Shut up."
"Make me!"
And that was something you knew how to do better than your skating routine.
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simplyzeeka · 10 days ago
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Note: This is my first fanfic ever. With the way I've been earing these Terry Richmond fanfics up? This was bound to happen!
Warnings: MDNI!! Ts is nasty, Terry is nasty. Slighttt humiliation, slighttt choking, oral (f recieving), p in v... and just Terry Richmond y'all
Pairing: Doppleganger!Terry x black fem character (Drea)
Summary: With the rising population of doppleganger attacks in Yohnville, Drea is a little past worried when her boyfriend Terry doesn't make it home on time.
Do not repost, re-upload, steal or copy my work!!!
Doppled Distractions
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“There have been three more reported deaths tonight, the cause seemingly being caused by the increasing population of doppelgangers in the town. Investigators and officers urge civilians to stay indoors and ensure all possible entrances are barricaded. The town's mayor is said to address this issue tomorrow morning.”
Drea shut the TV off, having heard enough that it caused exaggerated ringing in her ear. Her leg bounced up and down, her head in her hands while constantly looking towards the door.
Terry forgot his key before leaving for work, and while Drea usually does leave the door unlocked, however, there is a growing discomfort in doing that today especially after watching the news report. She was also worried about her boyfriend, the time was going on 11pm and he still wasn't back. Terry was never late.
“Where the hell are you, Terry?” She whispers to herself, her attention darting between the clock above the TV and the door. Contemplating on whether she should leave the door unlocked for him.
She's startled out of her thoughts by a pitched sound coming from her phone, one that has her running to find it, in hopes that it was Terry texting her, telling her he was on the way, that he was safe. Only to be disappointed to see it was a dumb Instagram notification. Who the fuck would be posting at this damn time, was unbeknownst to her, but she didn't do the honors to check, to frustrated at the situation in hand.
Drea opts for leaving the door unlocked, then retreats to their room where she got into bed and prayed that he would come back to her, in one piece.
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The silent ‘click’ of the door was unheard by Drea as she was in deep slumber. Slow steps creak on the loose planks Terry had said he would fix but always forgot about.
With long legs, it didn't take long for him to reach the bedroom, the whirring of the ceiling fan drowned out Drea's soft snores. It was summertime in Yohnville, and the heat was so unbearable that cool night breezes did nothing to ease it.
Drea had long kicked the covers off of her, exposing the smooth skin of her thighs, arms and chest. A loose, lilac coloured silk nightgown was now bunched up around her waist as she layed on her stomach. Head covered in a bonnet since she got her braids done recently, Terry always loved her in braids.
She stirs at the feel of cold hands gliding up her legs followed by a dip of the bed. “Baby.” a gruff voice eases her out of her deep slumber although everything else was still a bit jumbled. He was back, and in one piece.
“T? That you?” She asked, although she already knew it was, could tell by how good he always smelled, like old wood and a hint of something sweet. Drea would often tell him that he smells like obsession.
“Yeah, sorry for coming back so late. There was a problem at the workshop.” He roughly responds, sounding exhausted almost. Drea sighs when the cold tip of his nose runs along her shoulder, to the length of her neck, inhaling the intoxicating fresh scent Drea naturally had.
“You could've texted me, or atleast called, T.” Drea sleepily complains, still a little out of it and his presence always left her a little dizzy, that scent.
“Hmm, I'm sure he's sorry baby.” Terry mumbles in the shell of her ear. The statement had Drea frowning, before she flips on her side and faces him. Gorgeous eyes, the prettiest she's ever seen. Fresh fade, neatly trimmed goatee and plump, thick lips. Definitely her Terry. “Huh?” She whispers for him to repeat, she must've still been sleepy.
“I said I'm very sorry mama.” He smiles, before pressing a soft peck on her lips. Drea hums at the contact and chases his lips when he pulls away, which has him chuckling. “Mhm, had me worried. You watch the news?” Drea smiles as she glides her fingers across his thick eyebrows. Damn he was so pretty, fine, handsome. All the words in the book.
“Don't worry ‘bout that, I'm here now.” Terry responds before softly flipping her on her back, hands running up the skin of her waist, raising her nightgown higher, to where it now ruffled around her chest.
Flimsy lace panties she had on, barely leaving much to the imagination, a wet patch right in the middle of them that the darkness of the room couldn't even hide. Terry always had her like that, looking at him was enough to have her wet and wanting.
“And I'm hungry as fuck, mama.” He adds, his fingers dancing under the bands of the thin material. Slowly, he pulls the garment down her thighs, his eyes trailing up the length of her body until they reach her eyes.
“You gon’ feed me baby?” He asks, taunting really as he tilts his head. Her panties now settled at her ankles. Drea pulls a foot out of one loop, her throat dry and her eyes hazed. “Only if you got the appetite.” She doesn't back down, because one thing Terry loved the most, is when she went band for band with him.
The laugh he lets out is an amused one. “Always got the appetite.” He mumbles before laying on his stomach and throwing her legs over his shoulders. He held her thighs to the side of his face, blowing on her sensitive bud as one would to a hot plate of food.
It was how he left soft pecks around her fluttering lips, purposefully missing the spots she wanted him most. Drea leans on her elbows so she could watch him, her head shaking at his teasing. “Don't play that today.” She orders softly, because why would you ask for food then play around it, he had better manners than that… Well Terry did at least.
He laughs, looks straight at Drea when he licks one, long stripe from her leaking hole to her now engorged clit. Drea shudders, the heat of his tongue being a large contract to the wind from the fan. She cages her bottom lip between her teeth, eye contact maintained as her hand brushes over his fade. “Mhm, keep goin’.” She urges softly, and by the look on her face, why wouldn't he be happy to oblige.
He ate her slowly at first, drawing out the softest of whimpers and the most enticing of moans. Slurping up the essence she so kindly lifted him. Drea tries to bury his face deeper into her pussy, but he smacks away her hand and hums in refusal. “You take what you get.” He mutters before diving right in.
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And take she did, take she had no choice but to do, especially when he had her stomach laid on a pillow, legs bent and parted as he takes all that he needs.
“Shiiitt, I'm- fuckk I'm gonna cum.” Drea mewls as he drills into her relentlessly. Her jaw falls slack, the way his dick dug out her pussy had her eyes crossing in need. Something was different, yes sex with Terry always left her dumb, but something about the way he was fucking her now was carnal. He was fucking like he hated her, but the way he talked her through it? Yeah, something was definitely different.
“Yeah? All on this dick mama? What you waitin’ on, hmm? Let it go, just like that, cum on your dick.” He coaches her into it, commanding her nut out of her as he skillfully strokes into her, hands on her hips, forcing her to stay still because he didn't want her running, just wanted her to take.
Drea claws at the sheets in front of her, threatening to pull them completely off from the corners. “Oouu fuck! Right there, fuck you so deep, T.”
He kept jabbing at this new spot, one she didn't even know she had. Everything felt different, yet so good because Drea has never felt dick like this.
“Mhm, right where I'm ‘sposed to me. Gripping my shit so good, you were made for me, weren't you? Just for me, look at you. Pretty baby.”
Because how was Drea supposed to keep breathing when he spoke like that? She was already crazy enough about Terry, but after this? This will have her world fucked about him.
“Breathe mama, breathe through it. Can't be that dick dumb, baby. Tighten up.” He moans too. He's never been this… condescending, but fuck if it didn't make Drea cream all around him, that sentence sent her over the edge, “Fuckkk, I'm cummin’.”
He fucks her through it, had no choice but to with the way Drea gripped his dick. “Flip over, I wanna see your face.” He orders, slipping out of her. His mouth watering at the sight of her own nut dripping out of her.
Drea follows the order, flipping over her back, her head thrown back in exhaustion. He holds her legs up, pushing them to her chest and sliding his dick right back into her. “Oouu shittt, wait wait wait.” Drea whines as she places her hand on his stomach to deter his movements.
Was he thicker? Longer? Because fuck it felt like he was impaling her, his dick had her stuffed. The stretch felt so much more intense than usual, his dick was carving her pussy to fit him specifically, Drea was sure no one would compare to this.
“Move your hand and hold your legs.” He orders lowly, trying to get used to the tightness of her walls himself. Drea sucked his dick in as he slowly adjusted. She followed his order, as usual and held the back of her thighs while his hand sneaks to her neck, wrapping around before making her fuck him back.
“You feel me baby?” He asks while looking down at her. “Yess, yes I do baby.” She couldn't help but to moan out loudly, he rubbed past her spot so deliciously that giving him pussy wasn't nearly enough for gratitude. “Where you feel me at baby? Right here?” He taunts, his thumb pressing down on her stomach with every thrust and that had her instantly creaming.
Unable to speak, she nods her head as her eyes cross over. “Stop playin’ and use your words.”
Drea looks up at him with furrowed brows, his eyes looked so damn good. She loved his eyes, such a pretty colour. Still she shakes her head, he was balls deep inside her, taking her soul with every thrust and he expected her to be able to speak?
“You don't listen D. But it's okay baby, don't worry. We gon’ get you right.” He says before picking up the pace gaze stuck on hers. He moves his hand from her neck and holds her hips instead, bringing her onto his dick.
Drea closes her eyes and lets her head fall back onto the messy sheets. “Fuckkk. Oh my fuckin’- ung.” She gasps between short breaths.
By now there were tears falling down the side of her face. “That's right, look at how you gushin’. She love me, don't she?” His thumb grazes her clit before intentionally rubbing figure eights of the swollen bud. Drea nods and whispers out the softest of ‘yeses’ her throat allowed her to. “I know she do, baby. I know.” He coos at her with furrowed brows.
Drea's pussy was magical, would have anyone crazy about her just from the sight alone. Right now, he had to hold off from coming so many times, because her faces were worth it, the sounds she made. All of it was worth watching.
He slows down for a moment, tucks his arms under her legs and holds her waist tightly before pulling her up to his chest. The squeal she let out from the sudden movement had him laughing.
The pace starts up again and he musters all the strength he has to bounce her on his dick in a steady pace. With her bonnet long gone on the floor, Drea throws her head back, her hands around his neck.
“Fuck fuck fuckkk, I can't.” She shakes her head. Terry nods his head, his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks at her. “Yes you can mama, you doin’ so good. Takin’ this dick like a big girl. I see you big girl.” He praises, “Look at me baby, hmm. Please look at me.”
And she obliged, again, because he was fucking her so good, so so good that it's bloomed something more in her heart. Not only did his dick impale itself in her pussy but also in her soul. He was there for life now.
“There she is, pretty baby. You gon’ cum with me? Cum with your dick mama. I'm bout to nut, fill you with this shit. Cause it's yours, you hear me?”
Drea nods, “Fuckk, I hear you T, I hear youuu.”
“Fuckk, I'm close. Gon’ head and let it go baby. There you go. Good fucking pussy.” He says as he feels her wet him up, and he follows right after.
Painting her walls white as she squirts on his lap. Terry fucks his nut into her, engraving it in her pussy, because that's precisely where it belonged. “Good girl, you did so good. Easy baby.”
Drea had her head on his shoulder. Fucked out and tired. Her braids curtain her face as she tries to catch her breath. “You had a bad day at work or something?” She asks quietly with a laugh.
Terry laughs and shakes his head. “Somethin’ like that.” He responds and Drea hums. Sighing softly as he settles her down on her back on the bed. They would have to change the sheets before going back to sleep.
“Should have more bad days, cause what the fuck?” She whispers, causing him to laugh as he walks towards the bathroom and comes back after a while. “C’mon, bath time.” He mumbles as he picks her up again. “Sir, yes Sir.” Drea sighs as she allows herself to be carried.
What a shame she didn't notice his ink free skin, cause maybe then Drea would have seen that her Terry didn't make it home tonight.
Note: Maybe I went a bit overboard. A little messy but this is my first time so... idk chile. A little something for spooky month, hope you enjoyed🎃🎃🎃
190 notes · View notes
zepskies · 11 months ago
Text
Smoke Eater - Part 16
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Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 
Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 
That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   
🔥 Series Masterlist
Song Inspo: “Run to You” by the Pentatonix
Word Count: 6,200 Tags/Warnings: Physical altercation, perilous situations, fire hazards, injuries, angst, Nick and Azazel being evil psychos. 
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Part 16: “Break Down the Gates”
The holiday couldn’t last forever. Eventually, you had to go back to work.
Dean didn’t like it, and neither did you. Hell, even Sam had tried to find an opening in the district attorney’s office for you. Unfortunately, all of the positions you were remotely qualified for were filled.
And as your bills had to get paid, it meant you had to take Betsy all the way up to the 22nd floor of the Savage & Co. building on a Monday morning.
Dean was already calling you.
You couldn’t answer until you got off the elevator and away from its shitty reception, but you let out a sigh before you called him back.
“Hey,” you greeted.
“Hey, sweetheart. How you doin’?” Dean asked.
“I’m good. I just got to my office,” you replied. I was also fine 20 minutes ago on the road.
You had to be patient though. You knew he was worried about you, now for more than one good reason.
“Good. Got your taser all charged up?”
“Yep, it’s in my purse,” you said. You closed the door to your office and locked it. “Which is going in my desk. You’re at the station?”
“Yeah, having my coffee right now.”
“Okay, tell the guys I said hi.”
“Will do,” said Dean. “You need anything, just call me. If you can’t get ahold of me, call Cas, or Sam, or even my dad.”
“I promise I will,” you replied. “I have to get to work here, but I hope you have a good day. And be safe.”
“That I will,” he promised in turn. “You too, baby.”
You smiled.
Once you hung up with Dean and got settled at your desk, you started by powering through your work emails. All too soon, however, there was a knock at your door. You fought against the tremor of unease that ran up your spine.
“Who is it?” you asked.
“It’s Marv,” replied your coworker, through the door. “Since when do you lock yourself in your office?”
You let out a breath and smiled. You got up and went to let him in. “I’ve found that people are less likely to interrupt me when they can’t get in.”
When the door opened, Marv gave you a look of begrudging acceptance.
“I hear ya,” he said. The man was a hermit himself, so if anyone was going to understand your self-barricading, it was Marv.
He handed you a hard-copy manilla envelope containing his monthly report, because he also had a disdain for email. 
“Why don’t you give this to Nick yourself?” you asked with a frown.
Marv held up placating hands. “Because he’s an ass, and I can only deal with so much idiocy in my life.”
“Then give it to Josh! He’s the new Senior Manager,” you pointed out.
“Josh kisses Nick’s ass. Therefore, he’s become an even bigger idiot,” Marv replied. “I’m telling you, my constitution just can’t bear it.”
You rolled your eyes and took the folder from him. “All right, get outta here. I’ll deal with this.”
“Thank you,” he said, inclining his head. He soon left to return to his hole of an office. You’d only been in there once. It had been stacked to high heaven with books and loose papers. You didn’t know how the man functioned, but you assumed it was equal parts caffeine and Prozac.
So you took the report, and you went up to the 30th floor for the first time in months.
You went down the hall to Josh’s office first, but you could hear from the other side of the closed door that he was locked in a meeting with one of the more difficult clients.
You could come back later, or just drop the folder off with Nick’s assistant.
You went back down the hall and found that Nick’s office door was cracked open, but you weren’t about to go in, even just to deliver a simple report. You didn’t want to speak to him, let alone enter his office.
His assistant was out on a break, it seemed, so you couldn’t just give it to her. You contemplated leaving it on her desk with a note. But that’s when you heard the voices coming from within the office.
“As you know, my father’s back in town,” you heard Nick say. You inched closer to the door and cautiously peeked through the three inches of space in the doorway. There was another man inside, slightly taller than Nick, but leaner. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a plaid shirt. His long arms were crossed as he listened.
You could tell by the way he stood, however, that this wasn’t an associate from one of their accounts. He didn’t look like a businessman or a lawyer. The way he stood was sharper, more calculated even in his laxness.
Your brain caught up with the conversation as Nick continued to speak.
“We’re working together on this,” he said. “Keep an eye on the cop. Wait for an opportunity.”
“Together, huh? Azazel has his orders. You trying to take his place?” the other man replied. His voice was thin and nasal. You saw his profile, however. His eyes were dangerous.
Your gaze widened at the implications of his words though. Azazel?!
“Dad agrees with me. The guy’s not getting the hint, so we’ll need to remind him who really makes the rules,” Nick said.
You blinked in shock. Holy shit…Nick’s father is Azazel.
You clasped a hand over your mouth before the gasp could escape. A sharp breath still echoed through the hall. The men’s heads began to turn, but you did as well—away from the door and booking it down the hall as quietly and quickly as you could.
Your heart pounded while you searched for a way out of the hallway, out of plain sight. You found the nearest bathroom and went into the women’s. It seemed empty, at least.
There you rushed into one of the stalls and locked it. You realized that you had your phone in your pocket, and you took it out with trembling hands. Your thumb hovered over Dean’s name as panicked breaths escaped you.
But the more you thought about what you’d heard, and Nick’s ominous threat about a cop, you found yourself scrolling lower in your contacts. You called John Winchester.
It rang a few times, and all the while you made silent, fervent prayers. Pick up, damn it! You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.
“Winchester,” he answered.
“John, it’s me,” you whispered. “Azazel’s here. Or, he’s not here, here, but I know who he is. Well, I mean kind of—”
“Okay, wait. Slow down,” he said. “What about Azazel? You know who he is?”
“He’s Nick’s father,” you hissed. Trying to contain yourself and speak quietly was not easy. “I met him once at a company networking event, like a month after I got hired. Daniel Savage. He built Savage & Co. from the ground up. But he handed off the reigns to Nick years ago.”
It seemed to take John a moment to compute on that one, but he eventually replied.
“You’re at the office now?” John asked.
“Uh, yeah!” you replied testily. “I’m hiding out in a bathroom stall.”
“Okay, take it slow, all right?” he said. “You’re gonna go back to your office, calm. Like you didn’t just hear what you heard. You’re gonna take an early lunch, and you’re gonna come straight to the precinct for me. We’ll make sure you’re safe.”
You took a deep breath to steady yourself as you nodded, even though he couldn’t see it.
“Okay. I need to call Dean,” you said.
“I’ll fill him in. Just focus on getting out of there,” John said.
You agreed, but you still felt shaky when you ended the call. No one had entered the bathroom, and it had been a few minutes already, so you chanced stepping out of the stall and into the hallway. That too was empty.
You sucked in another steadying breath. This time you went down the stairs to get back to your office. It felt unusually warm in the stairwell. Hot enough that you actually started to sweat on the way down to the 22nd floor.
Damn, did the AC break or something?
You made it back to your office, though when you opened the door, you were unable to be relieved. Nick sat in your chair at your desk. He gave you a smile.
“Good morning,” he said.
“You’re not supposed to be in here. Get out,” you snapped. You had no patience for another tête-à-tête with him today; especially after what you just saw.
And it hit you then. You were a witness.
You eyed Nick more warily. He had one of his gold golf clubs in his hand, and he leaned on it as he stood. He set up a putter’s stance next to your desk and hit a golf ball with a gentle swing. The ball rolled into your flat shoe.
“I want to go over that report you brought upstairs,” he said.
You shook your head and went cautiously over to your desk. Your purse was inside (you were kicking yourself for not taking it with you upstairs). Nick was too close to your desk for comfort, until he moved to retrieve his golf ball. It allowed you to move farther into the room.
“Anything you want to discuss can be done via email. Right now, I’m meeting a friend for lunch,” you lied. Your gaze was off the man for maybe a few seconds while you grabbed your purse from inside the desk. Another realization hit you in that moment.
How did he know it was me who brought the report?
By the time you looked up, Nick was shutting the door to your office. He tilted his head at you with a darker edge to his smile.
“You saw something you weren’t supposed to. Didn’t you, sweetheart?” he said.
You steeled yourself with a breath. You felt inside your purse, and your hand wrapped around your taser. You pulled it out and switched it on, pointing it towards him.
“Step away from the door or I’ll fry your ass,” you threatened. It lost its effect somewhat, with the way your hand was shaking, but it was a threat, nonetheless.
Nick raised his brows at you. He still had his golf club in hand. His movements were slow as he stepped away from the door, and closer towards you.
“Sure you know how to work that thing?” he teased with a shrug of his shoulders. “If I were you, I’d take a breath. Relax a bit. Come sit on my knee.”
That last bit was teasing, despite the way he eyed you, even now with a shade of desire. The kind that claimed and stole in its taking. It made you want to spit in his face.
“You’re a bastard,” you replied. “Turns out, the bastard apple doesn’t fall far from the bastard tree.”
“Watch it,” Nick warned. You saw the dangerous edge in his blue eyes. “That’s my dad you’re talking about.”
He swung the club at your head.
You managed to duck, yelping as it crashed into a lamp instead. You tried to run for the door, but that was when Nick grabbed you by the hair and nearly yanked the hairclip right out.
A short scream escaped your lips as you grabbed for his wrist. He shoved you hard into the wall, where you lost your footing and fell. Your head cracked against the accent table that once held the lamp, and your vision blurred on the way down. Glass crackled under your arm and bit into your cheek.
A strong hand grabbed you and hefted you up. You felt a trickle of wetness rolling down the side of your face as you stared up into his. It must’ve been blood, but all you could focus on was the satisfaction in Nick’s eyes. Finally, they seemed to say.
But then he paused. Confusion was written across his face.
“Do you smell smoke?” he asked. You both saw it climbing under the door of your office.
It was a distraction that broke you out of your frozen fear.
On pure instinct, you jabbed at Nick’s ribs with your taser. His hands fell away from you and he went down like an elephant, jolting and writhing on the ground. You gasped for breath above him while you realized what you’d just done. You tilted your head down at him.
No, you weren’t done.
You grabbed his golf club with your free hand. When he tried to reach for your ankle, you jammed the heavy club into his hand until he shouted in pain. For every moment of frustration, anxiety, and fear this man had caused you, you gave it back to him with one heavy swing of that club into his stomach. (And maybe one more for good measure.) 
He doubled over, groaning, coughing a bit of blood. You tossed the golf club and grabbed your purse with a shaking hand. You left him where he laid.
As soon as you open the door, however, you were pushed back by the cloud of incoming smoke. You coughed and squinted against it, but your eyes widened again when you realized what was happening.
The building was on fire.
For some reason the alarms weren’t going off, but it was clear to see what was in front of you. Smoke was clogging the halls. People were rushing out of their offices for the stairwell. You couldn’t help glancing back at Nick; he was slowly pulling himself to his feet.
Part of you knew he might not make it if you left him, but when he looked up at you, with pure hatred, your fear overrode any mercy that might’ve made you turn around.
So you fled for the stairwell behind the small crowd. There were flames making their way down along with the smoke. That was all right, because you all were running in the opposite direction.
You had to blink a drop of blood out of your eyes, and you raised a shaky hand to a cut above your brow, which was also tender to the touch. You were bleeding, clearly, but you couldn’t think about that right now. You were just trying your best not to get pushed or trampled while you hastened down several floors.
The signs pointed to Floor 10 when you felt a buzzing in your pocket. It was your phone, you realized. You were about to fish it out of your pocket, but you were forced to stop short on the stairs, along with everyone else. 
The flames were coming from the floor below as well, blocking your exit.
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Once again, Dean frowned while checking his phone. You still hadn’t answered his text from an hour ago. Benny came to sit beside him on the couch in the firehouse common room.
“What’s got you spacin’ out?” Benny asked, noting his friend’s mood.
“I don’t know,” Dean admitted. “But I’ve got a bad feeling, Benny.”
Benny’s brows furrowed. “Why, what’s wrong?”
Before Dean could answer, his phone rang in his hand. He perked up to answer it, until he realized it was his dad calling. He accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear.
“Hey, what’s up?” Dean greeted.
“Thanks to your girl, we know who Azazel is,” John said. “Daniel Savage. Nick is his son.”
Dean’s heart dropped into his stomach; his shock was followed swiftly by worry.
“What? How’d she find that out?”
“She called me this morning. I told her to come straight to the precinct, but she’s not here yet. That was an hour ago,” John said gravely.
Dean’s eyes widened.
And then the alarm sounded overhead. Over the intercom the dispatcher reported a working fire at a commercial building. The address was the same as your work building: Savage & Co.
“Is that you?” John asked, once the intercom message was finished.
“Yeah,” Dean said. He was already up and out of the firehouse, getting his turnout gear on with the phone pressed to his ear. His heart was hammering in his chest, but his tone was rock steady.
“If she’s still in that building, I’m gonna find her.”
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Firehouses 18 and 20 had already arrived by the time Firehouse 25 got to the scene of the Savage & Co. building. The flames were sky-high, consuming from the top and the bottom. Just by looking at it, Dean thought there had to have been at least two points of origin (where the fire was started). He doubted this was an accident.
“Okay, 25,” Chief Singer said to the entire Truck 79 and Rescue Squad crew. “House 20 got here first, so Chief Sanderson’s calling the shots. He requested our help in clearing the first five floors. Their crew is already on floors 30 through 20. House 18 has the middle.”
Dean went up to Bobby and spoke just loud enough for him to hear. He filled him in on what John had just told him about Azazel, and that you were most likely somewhere in the building.
“She’s in there, Chief. I have to find her,” Dean said.
Bobby saw the desperation in the younger man’s eyes, and he sympathized. “Have you tried calling her again?”
“She’s not answering,” Dean replied. “If he found out what she knows, he could be after her. That means she could be somewhere near the top.”
“Or she’s in the middle. Or she’s already out of the building,” Bobby reasoned. He quelled Dean’s protest with a raised hand. It then fell on the younger man’s shoulder. “I understand, son. But I’ve got a protocol to follow, and so do you, Lieutenant.”
Dean’s lips pressed together. He knew his rank and his responsibility, but you were in danger. You could already be hurt, or trapped, or…
Dean rounded up Truck 79 with swift, barking orders. After donning their helmets and masks, his and Benny’s team made their way inside. The first floor was wall to wall rolling flames. The heat was nearly overwhelming, like entering the gates of hell.
There was no moving safely through the first floor, so they had to move on to the closest stairwell and try to make it up to the second. Dean held Benny back for a moment.
“I’m going up! Stick with the guys,” Dean said. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the cacophony inside the stairwell.
Benny frowned. “What’re you doin’? You heard the Chief!”
Dean shook his head. He knew he was about to defy a direct order, but he couldn’t shake the gut feeling that you were still in the building somewhere.
“I’ve gotta find her,” he said.
“You think I don’t want to find Andréa?” Benny said. “She hasn’t answered my calls either. They could be anywhere, Dean!”
Dean clasped his friend’s shoulder. “You’re making my point, man.”
And he took off up the stairs before Benny could stop him.
“Damn it, Dean!” Benny shouted after him.
“Where’s he going?” Jack asked. He and Gordon were the only ones to hang back while the rest of their crew followed their orders and searched the second floor, not realizing that their Lieutenant was no longer with them.
“To go be an idiot,” Benny growled. But he wasted no more time. He followed Dean up the stairwell.
Gordon shared a quick look with Jack before he started his own climb up the stairs.
“You can follow protocol, or you can back up the Lieutenant,” Gordon called down.
In that moment, Jack made a decision. He followed Gordon and Benny.
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You had to follow the rest of the crowd after you all couldn’t make it down the rest of the stairs safely. It landed you somewhere on the 10th floor, where the group scattered. Your head was aching, your heart pounded in your ears, and you didn’t know where to go.
You fled for the stairwell on the other side of the building, and in turning a corner, you smacked right into Andréa. You gasped when you caught hold of each other.
“Oh my God!” she cried, and she grabbed you into a hug. “Are you okay? Why’re you bleeding?”
“Catch up later,” you choked out. It was so hard to breathe; you were coughing every few moments.
She looked on you worriedly and let out a cough herself. “Come on.”
She pulled you along with her by the arm. You joined a smaller group that were heading for the opposite stairwell. Unfortunately, not all of you would make it there.
A piece of the weakened ceiling crumbled and fell in a fiery heap. Andréa had been just a couple steps in front of you, and it meant you saw it before she did. You pushed her forward so she would make it across. You were forced to stop short and protect your face from the embers.
You nearly tripped and fell back, but you used the wall to steady yourself. You looked up at the sound of Andréa calling your name. You found her terrified face. There was now a wall of fire separating you from her and the rest of the group.
“Keep going!” you coughed. “I’ll find another way.”
“No, I’m not leaving you!” she called back. She pushed away the man that tried to urge her on towards the stairwell.
“Go!” you shouted, even though it raked across your throat. You forced yourself to straighten up and turn away from her. The only chance you had was if there was a way around this hallway that still led to the stairs.
Oh shit, you gasped when you turned the corner. The fire was only getting worse. The building was being consumed, and you almost couldn’t see past a few feet in front of you with all the smoke. It stung in your eyes and clogged your throat.
You stumbled along until you found a room that you could escape into. It was another restroom. The fire hadn’t yet reached inside the women’s bathroom on this floor; maybe you could wait it out like you would a tornado.
Okay, clearly I’m fucking delirious, you thought. You huddled in a corner under the sink and tried and failed to take even breaths without coughing or panicking. You pulled out your phone with shaking hands and tried once again to call Dean. The reception was absolute shit in the entire building now.
It rang, and rang, and rang. Tears slipped down your cheeks.
But despite your dismayed thoughts, he actually answered.
“Hey! Baby, are you there?!”
Your mouth fell open in shock. You clutched at the phone. “Dean!”
You coughed, and you realized smoke was rising under the bathroom door now. The fire would spread here soon enough.
“Where are you? I’m here at your building!”
“Bathroom, 10th floor!” you managed to reply. “I couldn’t get out.”
“It’s okay. I’m coming right now,” he said. “Stay put for me.”
“Yeah,” you said, with a shaky breath. You couldn’t exactly leave. “Dean, don’t hang up.”
“I won’t,” he promised. “Where’s…r—oom?”
He was glitching in and out. You gripped the phone tighter in panic. “Dean?”
“Can…ear m…”
“Dean!” Your tears fell anew. You had another reason to struggle for breath as you tried to reach him.
You slid out from under the sink to try and get better reception, but it was no use. The call failed.
“Shit!” You nearly tossed your cell across the room out of sheer frustration.
Then you paced back and forth, trying to think of what to do. Should you leave your momentary shelter to go and find him, or would that just run the risk of him never finding you.
You didn’t know. You didn’t know what to do.
God, I’m so fucking screwed…
You slumped against the wall and tried to stifle your coughing, all while you also tried (and failed) to form some kind of a plan.
Until the bathroom door bursting open startled a scream out of you. Was the fire coming in?!
The move did allow more smoke to infiltrate the bathroom, but instead of the fire, you saw a firefighter in all his gear. This time, it did include the helmet.
“Fire Department!” he called out.
You would know that voice anywhere. And even through the mask, you recognized the man’s eyes when he went to you.
“Dean,” you sobbed. It was halted only by a series of lung-wracking coughs and wheezing. He quickly took his helmet and mask off so he could fit the mask over your soot-covered face.
“It’s okay, deep breaths. I gotcha, baby, just breathe,” Dean encouraged. His arm was around your waist, holding you close while the oxygen finally allowed you to take in slower breaths and relax against him.
“Okay, let’s get out of here, huh?” he said. He put his helmet back on.
You grabbed the front of his jacket. “Don’t you need the mask?”
You were still having trouble breathing, coughing on every other word. Dean shook his head.
“You need it more right now,” he said.
You realized that Benny was holding the bathroom door open.
“We gotta go!” he said.
“Benny, Andréa was here,” you said. His eyes widened behind his mask. “She got out, I think. She made it to the west stairwell.”
“Okay, yeah, because no one’s getting out the east wing,” Gordon said. You noted him standing just behind Benny, with Jack in tow.
“There’s a block,” you said, pointing just ahead where you saw the pile of debris. More parts of the ceiling had crumbled around it, making it a fiery minefield. There was no other way around it at this point—only through it.
Gordon and Jack went through first, followed by Benny. With their jackets and protective gear, they were able to jump through like a flaming hoop. And they would be able to help catch you and Dean from the other side.
“Okay, you ready?” Dean asked.
“If I say no?” you said, holding onto him tighter. His hand soothed over your hair. You’d lost your clip a long time ago (along with your purse), so your hair was probably wild and frizzy and covered in soot, along with the rest of you.
Dean grinned down at you. “Then I’d say, don’t you worry. I’m not gonna let you fall.”
Even now, through your fear, he could make you smile. You steeled yourself and took a breath. You could hear it so clearly with the mask on. That, and your own heartbeat.
He counted down to three, and on the last beat, Dean covered your head and shoulders and ran with you under the flame-covered ceiling. He managed to help you jump over the fiery debris on the ground. On both of your heavy landings, a wooden support beam fell.
There was a shout from Benny, but it was too late. All Dean could do was cover you. The beam broke over his back and knocked his helmet clean off. He took you with him when he fell.
Your scream rang out—half at the fall, but mostly for Dean. It was Benny who dragged you and Dean out first. Gordon and Jack took over hefting an unconscious Dean, while Benny hauled you up onto your feet and led you to the west stairwell.
You passed out just as you felt fresh air hit the mask.
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You woke to bright, fluorescent lighting that made you wince. An oxygen mask covered your mouth and nose and was strapped around your head. You made a sound of discomfort and tried to take it off, but a hand stilled yours.
“Don’t.”
Eileen’s concerned face came into view. You were confused, though happy to see her.
“You’re in the hospital,” she said. When you tried to speak, she held up a finger to you. Wait, said her eyes.
She took out her phone from her jean pocket to text someone.
“Sam is coming,” she told you, before she drew closer to sooth a hand up and down your arm. You felt tears in your eyes at just that small comfort.
They fell in earnest when Sam entered your hospital room. His eyes held the concern of a friend and a brother as he approached on your other side.
“Hey, how do you feel?” he asked, laying a hand on your shoulder.
You wheezed a breath and rasped, “Water.”
Sam nodded and grabbed you a plastic cup filled with cold water. It felt like literal heaven once the mask was off and you were able to drink. He helped you while Eileen held the mask away from your face.
After you’d had all you could drink, he took the cup and Eileen placed the mask back over your face.
“Where’s Dean?” you asked, after clearing your throat. You still sounded like a chain smoker, and your head was pounding. “Is he okay?”
“He’s stable,” Sam said, with a sigh. But when he didn’t offer anything more, you raised expectant brows at him.
“What else?” you said. Your tone told him not to skimp on any more details.
Sam’s gaze met yours. “The beam burned through his jacket, on his back. It hit his head. They…had to perform a minor surgery to relieve the pressure in his brain, but he’s stable in recovery now.”
He was quick to add on that last bit when you began to crumble. Eileen encouraged you to breathe through your tears. The oxygen could only do half the battle if you didn’t breathe properly.
“I want to see him,” you said.
Sam frowned and held up a placating hand. “I don’t think that’s—”
You ignored him and tried to sit up. With or without his approval, you were getting out of this bed.
“Okay, you’re not listening,” Sam sighed, though he immediately went to help you. He shot Eileen an imploring look over your head.
She got the hint and helped you on her side. Together they helped you stand while you removed the mask, then the heart monitor and other wires taped to your torso.
The Emergency Department team had left your pants on, thank goodness, but they’d clipped through your blouse and bra. So the paper gown was mostly to cover your top half like a light blue poncho. It was a bit airy in the back, but Eileen held it closed for you. Right now, you didn’t care much about your modesty. You were also walking around the hospital barefooted.
At least Dean was on the same floor. It was just a long walk down the hall.
“Can you call Benny and ask how Andréa’s doing?” you asked, coughing a bit.
Sam eyed you in thinly veiled concern, but he agreed. The last he’d heard from Benny was that Andréa had been cleared by the paramedics with minor smoke inhalation. You were clearly worse.
Sam held you upright when you finally saw Dean. He had to guide you into a chair beside Dean’s bed, where he slept on his side. On his back was a large stretch of white gauze across his upper back, from nearly shoulder to side at an angle.
“The doctor said they’re only second-degree burns. It looks worse than it is,” Sam said quietly.
Eileen rubbed your back in the hopes that you’d stop crying.
You could only focus on the gauze, the smaller nicks and burns around Dean’s face, the bandage and thick gauze near his temple where they’d apparently had to drill into his skull. He also wore an oxygen mask, because if all that wasn’t enough, you were sure “smoke inhalation” was on the list, thanks to the way he’d given you his SCBA mask.
Gently, very gently, you took his hand. Your thumb swept over the back of it, over each knuckle.
“Did they say when he’d wake up?” you asked. You rubbed at your aching stomach. Does smoke inhalation cause nausea too?
Your chest was also tight. You’d head back to your room sooner or later and get the oxygen mask back on.
Before Sam could reply, you heard a groan below. You looked down at Dean with wide-eyed hope. It took a moment, but his eyes slid open. They were unfocused and dark, until they found your face.
You smiled tearfully. “Hey, baby.”
Your free hand caressed his cheek. His eyes briefly closed at your touch. When he realized you were holding his hand, he squeezed a bit. That was enough for you.
Just then, however, you had to let go of his hand. Whatever was left in your stomach from this morning seemed to be revolting. You turned your head quick to throw up onto the hospital floor.
Both Sam and Eileen called your name when you slid out of your chair and onto the floor. You blinked tears out of your eyes…or actually, it was black spots encroaching on your vision.
Sam pushed the chair out of his way to get to you. He gathered you into his arms and shouted for a doctor while Eileen went for the emergency button on Dean’s hospital bed.
The last thing you saw was Dean’s worried face out of the corner of your eye, before the blackness took you.
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Dean could barely speak behind his oxygen mask, but Sam saw his worry as the nurses carried you away in a stretcher with Eileen following close behind. Sam crouched in front of his brother and clasped his hand.
“She’ll be okay, I promise. I’m gonna look out for both of you,” Sam said. “Right now, you need to sleep.”
Dean’s brows furrowed. In that small gesture, Sam also saw his stubbornness. He almost smiled. You and Dean were a match made.
“Just rest, Dean. I’m going now to check on her, but not until you close your eyes,” Sam said. It took another stubborn minute, but Dean eventually relaxed as well as he was able. His eyes closed as he fell back under the pull of medication and painkillers.
“How’s he doing?” came the voice of their father in the doorway. Sam’s expression morphed from gentle to austere. His head turned towards his father.
“How does he look like he’s doing?” Sam asked. “He had a burning ceiling fall on him. He has the mother of all concussions, and he just saw his girlfriend collapse.”
John was quiet, in contrast to his youngest son’s ire. He stepped into the room and watched his eldest. Sam saw the man’s age in the lines around his eyes, in his slow gait when he raised a gentle hand to comb through Dean’s greasy hair, mindful of his injuries.
“This shouldn’t have fucking happened,” said John. His voice was tired and gruff. Sam knew what the weight of guilt looked like, but what he didn’t yet see was regret. If John hadn’t kept digging, digging, Azazel wouldn’t have taken it this far.
Okay, Sam didn’t yet have proof that Azazel burned down the Savage & Co. building…but he didn’t believe in coincidences.
“No,” Sam said. “It shouldn’t have.”
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“What the fuck was that?!” Nick shouted.
He was still dusted with soot and sporting some cracked ribs from the day’s activities. He’d stumbled into his father’s house, taken a bottle of bourbon from the man’s shelf and started drinking straight from the crystal glass.
Daniel eyed him coolly from the balcony, smoking a cigar. “Whatever do you mean, son?”
Nick was furious. He stomped over, not caring how expensive liquor was splashing on him.
“Why’d you burn the whole damn building?” he demanded to know. “I could’ve died!”
“Alistair got you out, didn’t he?” Daniel pointed towards his son with the hand that held his cigar. “See, unlike you, I think ahead.”
“I’m serious,” Nick hissed. “Our company is still important—”
“My company,” Daniel interjected, “is not that building. However, the building itself was a liability.”
Nick’s brows knit together in confusion and anger. “What the hell’re you talking about?”
Daniel took a long drag of his cigar, puffing in Nick’s face. The latter coughed. As if he hadn’t had enough smoke in his lungs today.
“Don’t you see?” Daniel asked, with a sigh that also said he wondered how he could’ve produced such a moron. “It puts distance between you and ‘Azazel’ if you’re also a victim of his threats. It destroys any physical evidence of me having been there, along with any files you would’ve eventually had to turn over to the police and the FBI.”
Nick let that idea sink into his brain. He realized that it did make sense…but he deflated as something else occurred to him.
“Uh…see, that would’ve worked, but, we have a problem,” Nick scratched his head. “Someone knows who you really are.”
By the time Nick finished explaining about you, and what you’d overheard, Daniel’s sharp gaze managed to strike fear into Nick’s heart.
Yet to his surprise, the other man’s temper didn’t blow. Daniel kept it all inside as he continued to smoke. Cigars tended to pacify him better than cigarettes.
His lips twitched at a humorless smile. “Well, that is a problem.”
“But she probably died in the fire, so we’re good,” Nick shrugged.
“No, I doubt she did,” Daniel sighed. “You’re not that lucky.”
He rolled his shoulders. Then he grabbed Nick’s arm and twisted, until his was crying out and pinned to the nearest wall. Daniel threatened to put out his cigar in the soft underbelly of the arm he held.
Nick looked up at his father with wide, pleading eyes.
“Like everything else, that girl is a problem I’m going to fix,” Daniel said. “Along with the whole Winchester brood.” 
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AN: 🫣 Don't hate me lol. It gets better for them, I promise. But we have a few more chapters left to go and a few more twists in store!
Next Time:
The first time Dean was awake for longer than a few minutes, he asked about you.
Sam wasn’t surprised. He was frankly relieved that he had an answer for his brother.
Keep Reading: PART 17
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Dean Winchester Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Series Tag List (Part 1):
@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb
@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91
@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19
@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420
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kitkatscabinet · 1 year ago
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Step into my parlour, said the spider
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Stepbro! Simon x reader
Warnings: this one’s kind of deranged. Simon is a fucked up little freak. I mean it when I say this is dark, read with discretion. Implications of murder, and non-con
Word count: 1.5k
Once again 141 server bringing out the worst in me, @chxrryghost @cooliofango see you guys in hell 🫡
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Before you, life was a series of dull greys and monochromes, there was no warmth, just cold never-ending darkness that persisted in the form of his father's abuse. That didn’t matter now though, because nothing before you mattered.
Simon is nine years old when the angel (you) starts to live with them, he’s got no clue how his deadbeat of a father managed to finagle another woman into marrying him but he pays little mind to his new step-mum when he has you. 
You’re five years older than him, but you’re not like Tommy or dad at all. You’re kind and you tuck him into bed and give him cuddles and kisses that make him feel all fuzzy inside. You take him to the park and protect him from his dad. You try to hide the dark bruises that litter your skin, a consequence of shielding him, but Simon’s not so naive. 
He grows up hiding in your shadow, falling deeper and deeper into an obsessively deranged love for his saviour, the only person who loves him and treats him kindly. He seethes silently, waiting for the moment he’s big enough to protect you instead. 
By the time you’re sixteen, your mother has split, leaving you behind though you reassure Simon that you’d never have left him anyway. His father’s been out of a job for a while and you’ve been running yourself ragged to support Simon and Tommy. Tommy the bastard that he is doesn't appreciate the work you do and Simon is once again forced to grit his teeth and seethe as he watches you come home every evening like a zombie. Some mornings you don’t even make it to the bed to fall asleep, though Simon’s always waiting, dragging you under the covers before burrowing his way into your side. 
You let yourself get degraded by filthy men that slap your ass and call you names just for a measly tip. You’re one of the prettiest people on the planet which, unfortunately, attracts a lot of attention from the disgusting dregs of society. Boys your age and older, far too old to even consider glancing your way. The few brave enough to hover are always quickly scared off by Simon’s intense glares, and he preens when you pat his hair in thanks.
His dad notices too and Simon comes home from school one afternoon to find the man on top of you, hands wrapped around your neck as you struggle beneath him. A plate shatters over his dad's head and it’s not until Simon is on the floor and his old man is red in face, screaming at him that Simon realises what he’s done. 
You’re screaming and you shove his dad from behind, scooping Simon into your arms with adrenaline-fuelled strength you wouldn’t normally possess and are locking you and him in your shared room. Barricading the door and squishing Simon against you as your breath rattles. 
You fall asleep with Simon nestled against your chest, none the wiser to how his blood chants with the fervour of a thousand men, mine, mine, mine.
The universe finally seems to give you a break after that, his dad leaves the both of you alone and not long after your 18th birthday you get a cushy, well-paying job as a secretary for some hot-shot lawyer. Though Simon gets a little upset when you spend all your money on him, new clothes, new books for school, a GameBoy, whatever he wants. 
Best of all, his dad dies. The alcohol and drugs finally taking their toll on his body. (It’s not until a few years later that he’ll realise you were entirely too calm when the police came knocking. Serving them tea as you pretended to be shocked about the news.)
You get custody of him and Tommy and you move them into a much nicer neighbourhood. Though Simon’s not happy at having his own room and often sneaks back into your bed, knowing that you’ll simply sigh and open your arms for him, letting him snuggle against your chest. 
Simon should’ve known better, should’ve known that his happiness wouldn’t last. It’s not even a year into what you called the start of his new life that he comes home one afternoon from school to find you sobbing into your hands, hair and outfit dishevelled. Though you refuse to give him the details of what happened he manages to put two and two together from the state of your being and the knowledge that you’ve been fired. 
You take up waitressing again but it’s not enough. He’s not sure who ends up reporting it but a few days before his 14th birthday Simon gets taken away from you, no matter how much he kicks and screams. He tries to run away a few times but he’s always found and dragged away from you again. 
You move away not long after, having been offered a once-in-a-lifetime scholarship. Simon tries to understand as you explain through tears, kissing his forehead for the last time. He knows it’s selfish of him to feel betrayed but he can’t help it. Can’t accept that you’re leaving him. He doesn’t cry, instead, he immediately starts plotting. This is just a minor bump in the road, he’ll spend every waking moment until he’s eighteen perfecting his skills and plans and then nothing will keep you apart ever again. 
Time passes by excruciatingly slow, the only positive is that he’d finally grown even further, and had sprouted in height and musculature so much that he fears you might not recognise him. It takes him another extra year to find you, but when he’s twenty-three, with military resources at his disposal he finally, finally sees you again in person. 
You’re still the picture of perfection, clothes hugging your form so tantalisingly that Simon feels his cock throb in the confines of his pants just from seeing you. He steps forward, weaving through the crowd of the market only to stop in his tracks when a man wraps his arms around your midsection. Instead of rebuffing the touch you lean back and smile against him and Simon feels as if the Earth has been pulled from his feet. 
How could you do this to him?
He’s waited so faithfully for you all these years and you’ve replaced him? He watches as you kiss the interloper with a smile and Simon clenches his fists in fury so harshly his palms bleed. How many men had you let into your bed? How long did it take for you to forget him?
The plan’s changed. You’ve forced him into this. It’s not his fault that he’s had to plant cameras throughout your house. It’s not his fault that you’re so tantalising it forces him to break into your house, stealing your used panties to help get himself off. It’s not his fault you force him to learn you and your boyfriend’s schedule and it’s not his fault your scumbag partner doesn’t take his carefully worded hint to leave you. 
Your boyfriend is dead. Unfortunate, but needs must. Simon watches you sob into your pillow, hard as a rock as he imagines licking the tears from your cheeks and decides he can’t wait any longer. 
You’re so distraught that you don’t even notice Simon is in your house, you don’t notice until he swings the bedroom door open and you look up with a scream. He supposes he must make something of a terrifying sight, he’s a large man, and his face is covered by his trademark skull balaclava.
Simon allows you a few seconds to scramble around in panic before he crosses the distance, trapping your back to his chest and groaning as he humps into your ass. You scream, hitting at his arms as the tears start to flow anew and Simon throws you down on the mattress, weighing you down with his bulk. 
“Please, you don’t have to do this” you beg with teary eyes that do nothing but fuel his arousal. He does take pity on you though, restraining your wrists with his right hand and using his left to tug off his mask. He watches as your eyes gradually widen, elation filling his chest as recognition fills them. 
“Simon?” your voice wobbles and his name has never sounded better. Groaning, he rests his forehead against your collarbone, taking calming breaths to stop from cumming then and there. It’s okay though, he’s got all the time in the world now. You’ll spend the rest of your lives together, you’ll never be apart again.
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tired-and-ticklish · 9 months ago
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Bonding Exercise
Sequel to “Rough Day”
Summary: Angel and Husk try to escape Charlie’s new idea for a bonding exercise, but The Princess, her girlfriend, and a certain Radio Demon are persistent.
TW: Tickling (slightly intense), Swearing, Slight Restraints, Alastor being a bastard, References to Alastor’s past, Angel Dust being Angel Dust.
Disclaimer: I do not support V*v*z*epop, I simply like the characters and exploring their dynamics, usually in silly ways.
Part Three
“One~”
Despite the distance the two demons had put between themselves and the Radio Demon, they both could clearly hear his voice, accentuating how absolutely fucked they were. Angel was a bit faster, his longer legs giving him an advantage, but Husk wasn’t far behind, running quicker than he ever had in his life or unlife.
“Split up!” Angel exclaimed, quickly turning down a random hallway.
“Don’t need to fucking tell me twice!” Husk replied, almost skidding to a halt as he course-corrected down an entirely different hallway.
Charlie stopped upon seeing them both go in different directions, pouting slightly “Now who do we go after?”
“How about you two go after our effeminate fellow, and I’ll go after Husker?” Alastor suggested, though Vaggie raised an eyebrow.
“We’re not trying to torture them.” The bodyguard replied, to which the deer waved a hand.
“If I intended to torture either of those two, everyone would know.” Alastor replied, the radio effects of his voice becoming more sinister, but just for a moment. “No, I simply think our dear bartender needs to smile a bit more!”
“Come on Vaggie, I think I know where Angel’s running!” Charlie exclaimed, grabbing her girlfriend by the arm before she could protest and starting down a different hallway.
Vaggie couldn’t help but give Charlie a smile, despite thinking the whole idea was a bit ridiculous. Still, it gave her an excuse to get Angel back for all the times the spider demon had messed with them, or done anything that pushed back his ‘progress.’ She also knew she couldn’t find it in herself to say ‘no’ to the Princess, especially when she got that determined glimmer in her eyes.
“Good luck, darlings!” Alastor called as they both ran off, before continuing his own pursuit of the bartender.
Angel ran as fast as his legs could carry him, listening for any signs of his pursuers. All he needed to do was get to his room and barricade himself in there until Charlie forgot this whole dumb idea. However, Hell was more likely to freeze over than its Princess giving up or forgetting any of her ideas.
The spider knew his room was close, and he hadn’t seen or heard any of the purseres. Maybe that all went after Husk? A small shudder went up Angel’s spine as he looked behind him. As much as he did not want to be tickled again, the idea of the cat demon being tickled by Charlie, Vaggie, and Alastor was a fate he wouldn’t wish upon anyone in the hotel.
“Oh Angel!” He was torn from his thoughts, looking forward and almost screaming as he saw The Princess and her girlfriend, waiting right in front of his door.
“Found you.” Vaggie said, grinning mischievously.
Angel attempted to turn on his heel, but couldn’t slow down enough for it to be effective. His legs got tangled in one another, and he tumbled to the floor, groaning as he did. Before he could even attempt to get up and flee, the girls were upon him, Vaggie holding his upper pair of arms over his head, while Charlie straddled his waist.
“L-Ladies please,” Angel attempted to beg, tugging his arms as best he could. “Y-You don’t have to do this.”
“Oh, we know.” Vaggie said with a sly grin. “But we want to.”
Charlie immediately started skittering her figures on Angel’s stomach, making the spider snicker. Angel attempted to shove the Princess off with his lower set of arms, but anytime he tried, Charlie would ‘accidentally’ tickle a bit harder, making him lose focus. 
“C-Chaahahaharlihihihihe wahahahait!”
“Awww but Angel, you look so happy right now!”
“Behehehecause yohohohou’re tihihihihckling mehehehe!”
Angel squealed as Charlie’s claws made their way to his lower set of armpits, shaking his head. In his attempts to plead with the Princess, he didn’t notice until it was too late that Vaggie had changed her position, pinning his upper arms with her legs, soon feeling her fingers on his ribs.
“EEP! NohhoohoHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHerehehehe!” Angel shrieked, his face turning a light pink shade.
“Hey, Angel, do you have more or less ribs as a spider?” Vaggie asked, ignoring his pleas. “Guess I need to double check.”
“Dohohohon’t YOHOHOOHHOU DAHAHAHRE, Vahahahahagina!”
The pornstar felt Vaggie stop tickling him for a moment, making him realize he had just dug his own second grave. Any begging he could have done was soon cut off by the feeling of the hotel guard’s fingers slowly and torturously dragging over his ribs, followed shortly by her counting.
“SHIHIHIHIT SIHIHIHHIT IHIHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHRRY!” Angel cried out, kicking his legs as the girls continued tickling him.
“Two… three… Fiv- Wait, that’s not right.” The spider could practically hear the smirk in Vaggie’s voice “Can you hold still? I’m trying to count.”
“IHIHIHIHI CAHHAHAAN’T!” Angel whined
“Aww, sure you can Angel!” Charlie said encouragingly. “I’ll even go slower so you can focus!”
At that, Angel felt Charlie’s tactic switch from scribbling on his lower armpits, and a finger on each one just slowly start circling around the hollows, driving him up a wall. It tickled just enough to get him giggling, but also left him wanting more. The spider was starting to get the suspicion that somehow, someway, the girlfriends had gotten Cherri Bomb to tell them exactly how to destroy him.
“Five… six… Huh, you’re actually doing a good job.” Vaggie said as she tickled between his ribs “Guess the redemption work is paying off.”
“Well, he hasn’t asked us to stop.” Charlie pointed out, making Angel’s face turn an even darker shade of pink. “Maybe he’s enjoying this~?”
Fuck, despite how kind Charlie was, she was absolutely fucking evil when it came to tickling. 
—-
Alastor hummed as he casually walked the direction Husk went. Sure, the Radio Demon could simply summon the bartender to him, but where was the fun in that? If there was one thing he loved more than the act of killing, it was the thrill of the chase. The fear and desperation in people’s eyes, the absolute panic that washed over as they were cornered, before he descended upon them.
An expression he’d like to see on that obnoxious, pompous, piece of shit television one day.
It was an expression he had seen Husker make many times over their years knowing each other. Though, often that was because the cat had done something to make the deer angry. Now? Now, Alastor would be seeing the hotel’s dear bartender making that expression for an entirely different reason.
It was one of the reasons he suggested to be the one to go after Husk. Not just due to their longer time knowing each other, but because the Radio Demon was already aware of what would cause the cat to break from his usual grumpy demeanor. Surely, people would assume Alastor of all people would think tickling was a waste of time, but oh, how he enjoyed it.
Spending time with both Husk and Niffty, he had learned a few things. Specifically, the maid wasn’t at all ticklish, whereas the bartender was entirely too ticklish for his own good. If nothing else, Alastor was known for dealing in extremes.
“Ah, there you are!” Alastor exclaimed, seeing Husk had run himself into a corner, the cat quickly turning to look at him.
“Shit, fuck, dammit!” A string of expletives left the bartender’s mouth as he tried to look for a way to escape. Any hopes of that were cut off by the shadows that followed the Radio Demon pinned the cat to the wall. “Look, boss, t-this whole thing is ridiculous.”
“Oh, on the contrary, Husker, I think this will be quite enjoyable!” Alastor said, looking the bartender over. So many good places to start, and each eliciting a different reaction from Husk.
Husk, meanwhile, tried to free himself. If he hadn’t known any better, the cat would have assumed Alastor somehow planned all of this. Which, he really couldn’t put past the deer, but planning for Nift to tickle Angel, leading to this whole thing? That was the type of planning not even the Radio Demon could come up with.
Mostly because no one could really ‘plan’ for anything with it came to the hotel maid.
“I recall this,” Alastor began, the claws on his right hand gently wiggling on Husk’s chin. “Being a wonderful place to start.”
The reaction was instant, the cat’s fur quickly puffing up slightly as he bit his lip. He wasn’t going to give the bastard the satisfaction, not if he could help it. Of course, he had tried, and failed, in the past, but that didn’t mean he was just going to give in to the Radio Demon’s antics.
“Still trying that tactic, are we?” The deer hummed in amusement, moving his other hand to Husk’s side. “I never understand why you must make things so difficult!”
A few snickers came out, but the bartender was determined, trying to squirm away from Alastor’s hands. Said hands simply followed where the cat moved. Now, Alastor could use his powers to tickle multiple spots at once, but that was something reserved for those who pissed him off enough to face his wrath, but not enough to where he’d be satisfied by killing them.
“You know, Husker,” Alastor said casually, like he wasn’t tickling the demon before him. “When we were filming that ridiculous commercial for the hotel, I had half a mind to have our darling Niffty tickle you, just off-camera, so you’d be smiling!”
“Bihihihihite me!” Husk replied, doing his best to glare at the Overlord.
“A poor choice of words, considering who you’re talking to.” The Radio Demon chuckled, now slowly moving his left hand toward the bartender’s side. “You should really think before you speak.”
Husk tried to growl at Alastor, but it was cut off by the ticklish feeling on his side. More snickers gave way, the cat demon’s lips forming a wobbly smile despite his best efforts. He felt the deer’s right hand move from his chin and start poking his ribs, making the bartender snort a bit. He knew the deer was messing with him, taking his time before going right for Husk’s death spot.
“I never tire of counting your ribs, Husker.” Alastor mused. “Afterall, I need to make sure you’re all together!”
“Yohohohohou cohohohohocky bahahahastard!” Husk retorted.
Alastor tsked, and the cat felt himself start to panic as the Overlord’s hands went toward his stomach. “Always with the fowl language, that should be reserved for birds!”
If Husk could groan, he would. Of course Alastor had to get one of his stupid ‘jokes’ in while the bartender couldn’t just walk out of the room. Though, the puns did help whenever the Radio Demon wanted Angel Dust to leave him alone. He didn’t know what was worse, the Overlord’s love of ‘dad jokes’, or his insatiable sadistic streak. 
“Wohohohuld yoohohhou stohohohp- FUHUUHUHUHCK!” Husk exclaimed as Alastor scratched and clawed at his stomach. The first of the bartender’s worst spots.
Once he was sure Husk couldn’t escape, Alastor snapped his fingers, causing the shadows to let him go as the bartender slid to the floor, still trying to run away from the Radio Demon’s fingers. The deer poked and prodded, even circling a finger slowly around where the cat’s belly button would be.
“Don’t cats enjoy having their stomachs petted?” Alastor teased, a small laugh track coming from him.
“THAHAHAT’S dohohohohohgs yohohoHOHOHO PRIHIHIHICK!”
“Ah, forgive me.” Alastor said, not at all sounding apologetic “I was never a ‘dog’ person. Cats are much more amusing!”
“Thhihihihihis IHIHIHISN’T AMUHuhuhuhuhumsing!”
“You’re entitled to your opinion, but you wouldn’t be laughing if it wasn’t!”
Husk was going to kill him. Okay, no, he wasn’t that stupid or reckless, but he was going to make sure the Radio Demon paid for this. However, Husk’s plans of revenge were cut off by the feeling of two of Alastor’s tendrils stroking his wings, causing the bartender to scream with laughter.
“You know, I think Niffty needs to brush your wings soon, when was the last time she did that?” Alastor asked, despite knowing Husk wouldn’t be able to answer.
Despite both Angel and Husk being tickled out of their minds, they both hated to admit they were having fun. Maybe Charlie’s idea wasn’t so dumb.
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seaslugfanclub · 7 months ago
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Hi! How you doin? I saw that Clayton and Alameda fell under the "Crush/Romantic feelings" category in one of your previous posts and was wondering if I could request some separate imagines on them? Since there's not much mention of them in your other works (especially Clayton), just to get an idea of what they're like with (Y/N). Please and thank you!
Sure!! I’d love to write more about Clayton, he’s so underrated 😭 Enjoy!
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Clayton
He’s one of the more… aloof villains of the park. Unlike the others who parade around the park giving backhanded compliments and insulting the elderly, Clayton tends to stay more on the sidelines.
I mean… the only thing he really liked to do was hunt, and he can’t exactly skewer any living creatures at the “happiest place on earth”
Though what he wouldn’t give to make a new coat out of that sardonically scarred lion…
With our beloved park attendant (Y/N), they found a couple ways to get along with him.
(Y/N) asked him about his hunting expeditions and his time in Victorian England
As much as (Y/N) hates the idea of killing for the sake of killing, Clayton can tell one hell of a story. He becomes super animated, hands waving around and voice super loud. He even got Gaston’s attention.
Other villains walked in on both (Y/N) and Gaston sitting crisscross applesauce on the floor as Clayton relayed the tale of his expedition in Peru like it was story time
He LOVES showing off his skills and strength, and what can I say, (Y/N) loves a show
As for the romantic aspect of Clayton and (Y/N)’s relationship, I believe Clayton fell first
Clayton was a man from Victorian England, where it was risqué for a women to show her ankles
Now imagine Clayton seeing (Y/N) in small summer wear attire, it is Florida/California after all…
During one of Clayton’s tantrums, he ended up screaming in (Y/N)’s face. And what did they do? They slapped him across the face, shocking him to silence
No one has ever dared lay a finger on him, and as (Y/N) immediately apologized to him he could only think one thing; “that was hot”
Clayton isn’t used to someone being genuinely interested in his past, and the way that (Y/N) looks at him when he retails his adventures keeps the Englishman up at night
It’s weird, but (Y/N) loves how big Clayton’s hands are, like they take one of his hands and covers their entire face with it, much to Clayton’s embarrassment
(Y/N) is now Clayton’s official backpack, they cling to this man as he walks around the park. Clayton loves showing off his strength and (Y/N) loves being carried
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—————————————
Alameda Slim
Cowboy time baby
Alameda is one of the most unknown villains, like no one cares
But (Y/N) does, (Y/N) always tries to get Alameda included with the Villains and park activities
Whenever there’s a big crowd, Alameda always gravitates to (Y/N)
The size difference between them omg
(Y/N) brings Alameda old country music records, he now has a whole milk crate filled with albums
Gives (Y/N) mini concerts, yodeling along to the records
They have movie nights together in the common area watching old westerns! Alameda always interrupts the movie pointing out all the inaccuracies
One time Alameda tried to show (Y/N) how to square dance, and accidentally made them go airborne when he tried to spin them around
(Y/N)’s super curious about Alamedas yodeling, does it only affect cows? They decided to experiment on a bunch of different animals around the park, much to the park goers dismay
Turned out the only other animal effected by yodeling is… pigeons
Alameda ended up running for his life, a horde of hypnotized pigeons chasing after him
(Y/N) ended up having to convince Alameda it was safe to go outside again, after he barricaded himself in his room
Alameda likes to plop his cowboy hat on (Y/N)s head when it gets to hot outside
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moog-rt · 8 months ago
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GO TO HELL [ch. 4]
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[Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader]
Previous: Chapter Three
➨ Chapter Four
Next: Chapter Five
Premise:
You love your friends. You really do. But sometimes it needs reminding when one of them accidentally sends you to Hell.
Despite falling into the hands of Hell’s loveliest princess, finding a way back to the world of the living proves difficult as you tiptoe around its king.
A/N: shout out to my very own "power bottom at rock bottom" (aka my roommate) for harnessing her inner Angel Dust and feeding into some of his dialogue.
If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:
Otherwise, enjoy!
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CHAPTER FOUR
The car ride home was mostly silent and incredibly tense.
You also couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. When you looked around to sate your paranoia, you found nothing suspicious and whittled it down to the anxiety having your face plastered across every news channel in hell.
On your way out of her father’s manor, you decided to fill Charlie in about your hands and cheek. She said it was a gamble whether her dad would react well to your being human or not. Being neutral to it, however, was something she would not have imagined. She was just relieved that you were alright. 
She theorized that he may have assumed you were just wearing face paint for ‘shits and giggles’ (your words, not hers). There were some demons in Hell that did have skin tones similar to when they were human, so it wouldn’t be too outrageous for you to, as well.
Though it would be no surprise if he jumped to the conclusion that you were human due to your being televised all over Hell the day prior.
Not knowing where his head was at was going to kill you.
But worrying about that wasn’t going to get you anywhere. Charlie believed you two had searched everywhere in her old place that was likely to hold the key to you getting home. To your relief, the likelihood of returning was slim to none.
There was no need to stress over her father figuring you out since you wouldn’t have to risk running into him again.
The only thing you needed to focus on was getting those godforsaken cobwebs off the chandelier in the hotel foyer.
Vaggie was able to get the place mostly cleaned up in the time you were gone, but there were still a few things left that you were able to help with. After all they had done for you, this was the least you could do for them in return.
As you climbed back down the ladder, you saw Charlie pacing and muttering to herself. Even though you only met her recently, you knew how much the hotel and her plan to redeem sinners meant to her.
If this didn’t go well, she would absolutely take it to heart. She seemed like the type to barricade herself in a room to sulk for weeks on end. Or maybe bawl her eyes out whilst shoveling heaping spoonfuls of ice cream down her own throat.
Probably both.
“You know, this place is really coming together,” you said as you walked up to her.
She paused to face you.
“You think so?” she asked, glancing around the foyer in search of anything in need of tending. “Gosh, what if he doesn’t like the color scheme, or—or the motifs? What if he decides he isn’t interested in redemption at all?”
“Hey,” you said to get her attention as you leaned back into her view. “If he weren’t interested in what you’re offering, he wouldn’t be coming by to check things out. And I really don’t think your choice in décor will be what turns him away.”
You chuckled a bit as you glanced at the odd horse statues and slightly tattered wallpaper. It wasn’t modern or trendy, but it did have character. That was for sure.
She nodded with a far-off gaze, ruminating on your words.
“Even if he does decide that this isn’t for him—though I don’t think that will happen—there are so many people down here! I find it hard to believe that you won’t find some who are interested,” you continued. “Think about all the souls that believed they’d be going to Heaven but ended up here instead. They’d probably give up an arm and a leg to be redeemed.”
Her shoulders slacked, and her back loosened as she released a deep breath. Looking back at you, her face appeared more relaxed.
“Yeah…you’re totally right,” she said with a soft smile. “We just need to be patient.”
“I think this guy would be stupid not to accept your offer.” You bumped her arm playfully as you went to continue tidying up.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her smile and walk off, presumably to do the same.
Everyone was putting the final touches on everything when there was a knock on the front door. You paused in the middle of sliding the sofa across the room so you could get a look at whoever was there.
Charlie and Vaggie looked at each other in surprise.
“I told him to text or call before showing up,” Vaggie grumbled, running a hand through her bangs as she went to answer the door.
He was quite…tall.
You had forgotten their appearances could vary so much. Charlie, her father, and Vaggie were relatively similar to a regular person, despite some slight cosmetic differences. This guy, however, had an extra set of limbs and was covered head to toe in what looked like fur. 
Upon closer inspection, he also had what appeared to be three additional pairs of eyes underneath his primary ones.
Was he supposed to be a bug?
You shuffled forward as Charlie introduced herself. She had fixed up your makeup once you returned, so there was nothing to worry about regarding your own appearance. You had double and even triple-checked beforehand.
“This is it?”
“Uh…yes?” Charlie said meekly with her hands clasped in front of her chest.
He gave the foyer a hard once-over.
“Eh, anything’s betta’ than my current digs,” he said with a shrug and started walking around. “You got drinks?”
“No? The point of redemption is to stop engaging in sin,” Vaggie stated, crossing her arms. “Which means cutting out drugs?”
“You’re kiddin’ me,” he said as his body slumped. “What the hell am I supposed to do then? Play checkers?”
“Ooh, Checkers would be a fun way to break the ice!” Charlie sang, clapping her hands together.
This earned her a blank look from the new guest.
“Aha…” she laughed awkwardly at the bland response, then turned to gesture at you. “Well, this is our current resident! We have faith that she will be redeemed very soon.”
You gave a wide smile as you were being shown off. Should you strike a pose? Put your hands on your hips and puff your chest out in pride?
You didn’t mind being a fake example of a sinner-gone-good to help her out. It was the least you could do at this point. Plus, when you finally got the hell out of there, you could all play it off as you being ‘redeemed’.
“Yup, yup. Sin-free life has been pretty great,” you said, crossing your arms.
The guy already seemed exasperated. Vaggie was right when she said he was more interested in free rent than redemption itself.
“What did you say your name was again?” you asked in an attempt to keep the conversation from dying out before it had even started.
He perked a bit and plastered on a sultry smirk.
“Angel Dust,” he said as he swiped a hand through his hair(?) (head fluff?). “If you’re interested in gettin’ to know me betta’, I’ve got a nice collection of videos I can refer ya to.”
“No,” Vaggie groaned. “He’s a pornstar.”
Your eyebrows shot up.
“I mean, more power to you,” you shrugged, and he snickered.
“Wasn’t expectin’ that sorta career choice to fly with someone aspirin’ to cross through them pearly gates.” He tilted his head as he eyed you carefully, leaning down slightly to be more at your eye level. 
“What makes you think that?” you asked, raising your chin. “In my opinion, a redeemable gal like myself should be respectful of other’s bodily autonomy.”
“Last I checked, the pious types weren’t so down with cock-suckin’ hoes. I mean,” he paused and smirked, “some of ‘em were down with us cock-suckin’ hoes, but they did their darndest to pray that shit away afterward. The guilts part of the kink.”
Vaggie’s stance tensed more and more with each word that came out of his mouth. You were pretty sure her eye was twitching.
“Good people are accepting people!” Charlie exclaimed, throwing her arms out.
“You ain’t ever have to deal with the living, sugar-tits,” Angel said, draping himself over the couch in a way you were sure would be put on the front cover of a Playboy magazine. “But sure.”
You all began a short tour of the hotel much like the one you got when you first arrived. This time, however, Charlie was really trying to sell her redemption plan to him. She explained the terms of their deal. He would refrain from acts of sin, such as violence, drugs, yada-yada, and he could stay there for free.
As you began filing out of one of the available, move-in-ready rooms, you noticed Angel pause. He was looking at the ground with a blank expression, clearly contemplating something. You assumed he was weighing the pros and cons of Charlie’s offer, but you were no mind reader.
After showing off most of the relevant parts of the hotel, you gathered back in the entryway. Charlie stared Angel down expectantly, waiting in suspense for his decision.
She was overjoyed when he finally agreed.
“There’s no harm in tryin’, I guess.” He shrugged shooting a half-lidded smirk. “But I ain’t makin’ no promises that I’ll be the paragon of redeemability. I ain’t that type of model.”
When he left, he said he had to clear some things with his boss first and then he would start this whole ‘redemption thing’.
The three of you had a miniature celebration—juice, soda, and popcorn to go along with eager chatter—before you decided to address the stack of books you had hauled back to the hotel.
The evening was going swimmingly thus far, and you hoped that good luck would carry on to the very end of the night. Somewhere in that pile was your key to getting home. Your fingers were crossed that you would be sleeping in your own cozy bed that night.
You could finally take up your own offer on a nice hot bubble bath and let it soak away all the stress that had stockpiled within your body.
Sitting in a circle around the books, you began sifting through them.
Your hope dwindled bit by bit with every one you flipped through and set aside. They had everything to do with the living world except for the means of getting there.
Once the last book was deemed useless, you sat in sullen silence. A sort of emptiness settled within your chest.
If that was your best shot at returning, what else was there?
“Okay…that’s okay!” Charlie said in an attempt to lighten the mood. “We just have to try something else. Vaggie, you said you knew people who had access to Earth, right?”
“I said I knew of people,” she corrected. “But I did do a little bit of digging while you were out, and I might have a few leads?”
“Oh, perfect!” Charlie chirped, sitting straight up with her hands on her knees. “How about we look into those tomorrow then?”
You and Vaggie both nodded because what else were you supposed to do? You didn’t really have the option of giving up in this situation. Your life wasn’t going to wait on hold forever. It probably wasn’t waiting at all.
At this point, two full days would have passed since you ‘disappeared,’ but living alone makes it harder for people to notice that sort of thing. You doubted Devon would have reported it since that would likely result in them getting into even deeper shit (in addition to the can of whoop-ass you’d release onto them once you made it back).
And you knew better than to put any amount of faith into Jack. You were sure he noticed your absence. You had the texts to prove it. But he seemed to be convinced you were giving him the cold shoulder, which would most likely result in him pretending he didn’t give two flying fucks about you.
Fuck that bitch.
You wouldn’t say you slept like a baby that night, but you sure did sleep. You slept with the weight of despair threatening to overtake you with each failed attempt of finding a way back home.
And you know what?
It wasn’t half bad. Would you recommend it to someone else? No, not really. But you couldn’t tell them it was terrible.
Wiping the sleep from your eyes, you padded your way down the grand staircase. It was nice not having to wake up early to get all done up, but you still felt groggy. Possibly from sleeping too much.
You also appreciated being able to spend more time in the pajamas you were given, because good lord were they comfy.
Charlie and Vaggie let you know last night that they’d be leaving earlier in the morning to talk to the folks Vaggie believed might be able to access the living world. You stayed behind because you all agreed that dragging you through public in a not-so-durable disguise was a disaster waiting to happen.
However, they planned to be back in time for Charlie’s father to visit.
He had called her the previous night—just before you were all about to go your separate ways—to let her know he wanted to stop by. She told him he could drop by in the afternoon, and that was that.
You planned to coup yourself up in your room for the duration of his visit. You would rather die than address what had happened with the paint. If he had any questions regarding that, he could direct them towards his daughter. Thank you and goodnight (love you, Charlie! Muah!).
There was nothing to do until Charlie and Vaggie returned, but you still wanted caffeine or anything that could clear your brain fog.
They had stocked up the fridge and ‘pantry’ a bit more since you arrived, and Angel would likely move in any day now so there was also that to consider. Yet it was still a gamble on whether or not you could find something appealing.
You kneeled down in front of the fridge and began rummaging through your options.
Mysterious leftovers?
No.
Artichoke Hearts?
Eh…for breakfast? Probably not.
Coconut Milk?
No… You were surprised they even had coconuts in Hell. Unless, of course, they had sinners that manifested as coconuts, then you reckon they could milk—
No, absolutely not.
You were thinking about settling on a popsicle when you heard a knock at the front door.
Nobody should have been stopping by yet. Charlie’s dad wouldn’t be there until later, and you guys weren’t expecting anyone else. It could possibly be Angel, but you doubted he already spoke to his boss considering it was still morning.
The stained-glass doors didn’t disclose much about your surprise visitor. They were merely a shadowy figure, distorted by the odd shapes and colors.
Regardless of who it could be, you needed to hide or at least find a way to get back upstairs without being seen.
Slowly rising to your feet, you locked onto a rather large crate near the edge of the entryway.
You wouldn’t have to cross in front of the door to get there, which was ideal. Even though you knew the person on the other side couldn’t see you clearly, you preferred they not know you were there at all. Once you were at the crate, you could easily make your way around the room undetected.
Just as you were about to slip around it, you heard the front door creak open.
“Hello~” sang a familiar voice.
You hastily dodged behind the crate, your feet sliding slightly underneath you due to the new socks you had been gifted by your hosts. Thankfully, you were able to stabilize yourself before falling into anything.
Your heart was pounding away in your chest.
What was he doing here so early?
You pressed your back against the crate as you carefully sat down to wait for him to pass. Listening to his footsteps crossing the room was doing nothing to soothe your nerves. It was clear that he was in no rush to move on through the hotel. You could hear him as he sauntered around the foyer, pausing every once in a while before continuing on.
If he was taking in the sights, it was only a matter of time before he got to your side of the foyer.
You had to get out.
Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly peeked around your hiding spot to see where he was and whether he was looking your way.
To your relief, Charlie’s father was investigating a portrait on the wall opposite of you.
You wasted no time creeping across the floor to take cover behind the tattered old reception area. There was a body-length mirror resting against the wall just a few feet away that would give you a relatively good view of where he was.
As you were about to lean close enough to see through the mirror’s reflection, you heard him begin to hum just a few feet away. You scrambled to get beneath the desk.
How did he get so close so fast?
You understood the guy wasn’t human, but still. You were able to hear his footsteps clear as day up until that point. He shouldn’t know you were there; you were being so quiet…
Holding your breath, you waited for him to put some distance between the two of you. When you felt he was far enough away, you slowly scooted to the other side of the desk where you could hopefully get a view of the mirror.
Hearing him tampering with something, so you took the opportunity to glance at the mirror’s reflection.
He was prodding at one of the broken columns, testing its stability, it seemed. And his back was facing you. Perfect.
Glancing around the edge of the reception desk, you could see that the stairs weren’t too far away. It was a pretty open area, however, so you wondered if it would be better to beeline it down the adjacent hall instead.
Figuring that was likely the safer option, you checked the mirror once more to make sure his back was still turned.
You met his gaze in the reflection, and your eyes went wide as his lips curled into a wicked grin.
Fuck.
In a panic, you threw yourself out of view and knocked your head into the desk’s edge. The collision was certainly loud enough for him to hear, but you kept your pained whine quiet as you cradled your temple.
Your train of thought was quickly growing fuzzy, unsure of what to do or where to go.
Was it best to run?
What if he was faster?
Would your chances be better if you found another place to hide?
Probably not… He already knew where you were, and you weren’t sure where else you could even go.
All you knew was that you couldn’t stay where you were. If his eyes were still trained on the mirror, you would probably be better off going back the way you came. Maybe there was a gap in the crate that you could worm through to hide. It would be like you disappeared.
You turned back in that direction, and as you were about to dart back to the safety of your original hiding spot, two legs stepped in front of you.
You gasped, sliding to a halt just before you could crash into him.
Charlie’s father slowly crouched down to your level as you tilted your head to look up at him, eyes as wide as saucers. His smile was wide, showing off his large, pointed teeth.
“What do we have here?”
Next Chapter
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Tag List: @spookysisters @for-hearthand-home @crescent-z @mixplara @juskonutoh @tinywolfiegirl @lafy-taffy @glowinthedarkbones1150 @froggybich @darling-angel222 @preciousbabypeter
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spookypete-94 · 3 months ago
Text
Nightmare's Wasteland
Chapter 2- Wrath
SimonGhostRileyxFem!Reader
Small series. Reader is a female character in a dystopian world where the ability to conceive is limited to a small percentage of people. Reader is of that percentage and is assigned to Simon to provide a child to a declining population. She learns how live with him and survive, while he learns about her life prior before being delivered to hell. Def a darker read, MDNI.
CW for language. Reader learns more about the man she's been assigned to.
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Time.
Time it seemed to be all you had. At first you thought your new Master, Mr. Riley, was allowing you to settle in before attempting the task both of you had been given. However, any time you had tried to approach him about your fertile window he brushed you off or left, shutting and locking himself in his office. It was a puzzle to you. This world seems to fit and benefit a man’s needs and wants… but Mr. Riley had shown no interest in it what was assigned to him.
Duty.
This job was all that was asked of you in this new world. The only thing to keep you alive was to provide a baby and keep the birth rate on the rise before moving on the next household. Failure to achieve such a goal put you at risk. This was your first attempt, worried if you failed you would be shipped off to work in the mines a death sentence you have heard.
Anger.
Frustration started to linger in your mind, building anxiety and stress. This man would hardly talk to you, let alone even look in your direction some days. Honestly, it made you feel that you didn’t know which was worse. To be a plaything in man’s society, or not even acknowledged in Mr. Riley’s. Did he not understand the risk it placed on you and himself failing this requirement? How selfish of him… Both of your lives at risk, all because he will not have anything to do with you.
The first night in your new “home” left you confused. His interaction of his strong hands holding you in place while he examined the back of your neck. How could it be so different? Why was he treating you so different now?
With having so much time, days seemed to blur together. Trying your hardest to find tasks alongside Kate, you helped her run the house. Cooking homemade meals, the cleaning and washing. It had built a bond between you two that’s for sure. Speaking of your old lives, finding common ground, in this cold, dark, new world you had made a friend. Feeling like the cause gave you purpose kept your mind off your current problem, that is until dark came and you went to your room spending it alone with that little voice inside your head. What was wrong with you?
Maybe it was that thought that had drove you to his office, the one were the doors were always locked and barricaded shut to you. The bravery had made you stride to his office leaving you once you stood in front of the doors. The color of them was a dark red, walnut? Cherry? Gold embellishments detailed it like most of the house. Mr. Riley’s baritone voice is what brought you back to.
“Doors open.”
Of course, leave it to him to know you were standing outside his door like a creep.
Searching for the brazenness attitude that had brought you here once more, you opened that door hand on the gold handle hoping your voice would not fault you otherwise.
Drawing your cloak further and stepping in, shutting the door behind you. He hadn’t even bothered to look up, wouldn’t even acknowledge you. Placing both your hands together, interlocking your fingers, standing firmly in place you remained quiet. You were going to make him acknowledge you.
Time. More time gone. Ten minutes?? Before he looked up at you. A few seconds longer before he finally spoke again.
“Can I help you?” It seemed even when he tried to be quiet, his voice was still loud.
“Did I do something to you?”
“Wha’?” He asked from the bluntness of your question.
“Did I do something to you? Is there something wrong with me?”
Scoff. All he can do is scoff at your question, fingers pinching up between his eyes at the top of his nose.
“You can’t even look at me.” Your voice firm, unrelenting. “There have been two fertile windows come and gone. Two months in your home, and you won’t even acknowledge me or my job here.”
Your proud courageous self was knocked down at the knees, not prepared quite yet for his response.
“You think this is easy for me? That I want this?” His finger tapped down at his desk.
“You think I want to live this too?” You finally countered. “If I fail to do my duty, I’m sent off somewhere else. God knows where…”
“Duty.” His tone sardonic, mean in nature. “Don’t think anyone understands the full meaning of that word.” He glanced back down at his desk taking the papers he had been working on pulling them back closer to glance at the, again.
“Did they beat you?”
Even if he refused to look up at you again, you were able to see the change in his body language. Was like he went stiff, hands clenching the paper closer.
“Did they berate you? Tell you there was only one purpose in your life? Did you get to live in the past life before?”
Finally brown coals looked up at you. They only fueled your rage’s fire, an inferno burning you both.
“I know what it was like before. I want more then anything to be someone again instead of someone’s whore. But if I fail to do my duty, then I run the risk of being sent to the mines or strung up from being insubordinate.”
He’s quiet once more, eyes squeezed shut before leaning back into his chair and staring at the ceiling. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
This time it was your turn to be confused.
“What?” You had fired back so many questions you forgot about one of the initial ones you had asked, the one that had brought you here.
“There’s nothin’ wrong with you.” This time his voice quieter in tone, trying his best to seem gentle. Clicking his pen once before standing up and sighing.
“Then what is it?”
“A lot wrong with me.” Walking around to the front of his desk leaning against the front of it, fully presenting himself to you.
You remained silent in hopes of him speaking more, which he did, flipping the pen around in his fingers.
“I might have not been beat, or abused in this new world, but the last one was not easy for me. Don’t speak to be about hardships because I have been through my fair shares and caused it for many as well.” The statement started off calm, but the ending had a threatening undertone to it.
“You can’t just treat me like a ghost in this house.”
A statement he snorted at, finding it ironic.
“Something funny to you?” You sneered back to him.
“Go back to your room.”
“Excuse me?”
“Go back to your room.” His voiced boomed to you. “We’re done here.”
He was banishing you away like you were an unruly toddler.
“No.” You were planning on holding your ground.
“No?”
In two long steps he was standing over you, anger now burning in his coal eyes, glaring down at you. His large mass now looming over you, casting him in his dark shadow.
Oh, fuck.
“Going to intimidate me now? That’s alright, I’m used to that too.” Your mouth could shut the fuck up at any time now.
“You can think that this is only hard for you, or that you deserve better. Whatever you need to tell yourself, but I have no plans in adding to the population in this country. The world doesn’t deserve another one of me runnin’ around in it.”
“We don’t get a say.”
“I will face that battle when we get there.”
“Do you want them to send me away? Is that what it is?”
“No.” He groaned rolling his eyes, hands in his messy hair pushing it back. “Why are you so frustrating? Can’t you listen?”
“I’m frustrating?? You haven’t even spoke to me since the first night. Won’t tell me anything just have me as a shut in living in your home.” You exasperated to him. “If I fail this, they will send me away, punish me. Lie if you must, tell them you can’t stand me and have them reassign me.”
“Tha’ what you want?” His question dark, ominous sounding.
“No,” you admitted, shaking your head adamantly, “but I can’t live here with knowing there are repercussions coming because you fail to act.” You spat at him.
“Please… just go to your room.” He sighed at his wits end, the end of his rope near.
Shaking your head, you sighed, tears brimming your eyes and stepped through the door. The urge to slam it was strong, but this wasn’t your home. The anger you had felt bubbling to the top its well wanting to overflow and spill, but a lady had to keep it together.
Quietly, you sped down the hallway, slipping into you room. Sleep evaded you for awhile until your eyes hurt so much from crying you had to close them to feel relief. The burn in them almost soothing once closed.
Surprise had struck you though at breakfast the next morning when you found Mr. Riley's chair pressed up near the end of the long table you sat at. Sitting yourself down in it, he was not long to follow bringing two cups in to fill with tea to have with your meal.
"We do this, we do it my way." Voice low, still worried he will set you off from last nights turmoil. You nodded, thankful for at least something.
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bteezxyewriter12 · 4 months ago
Text
Panic
Pairing- Seonghwa x Named Reader
Word count- 3.5k
Includes- dystopian zombie apocalypse AU, wild sex, oral, pussy eating, cum eating, missionary, sex from behind, cock riding, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, fluff
Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa
@yeosxxx @seokwoosmole @jjongsbebe @wisejudgedragonhairdo @meowmeowminnie @woo-stars @borntowalkaway @usagionthered @san-realblkwife @seonghwasstar @jejeyeppeo @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @prayerofthehaim @realisticnotes @pinkies-things @insomniacatiny @stephy-nicole13 @mknae-jongho @bykeynote
Masterlists- check out for more fics
📝Masterlists 📝ATEEZ Masterlist 📝Seonghwa Masterlist
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J POV
"Jo come away from the window", Seonghwa calls from his spot on the couch
I look over at him incredulously
I can't believe how he's just sitting there like we didn't just run for our lives and barricaded ourselves in this house
As if we didn't see our friends die over the course of two fucking weeks
"I'm checking that we're safe", I tell him
"We are", he answers, "I made sure everything is locked and I put furniture in front of the doors like you asked"
Of course I asked him to do that
A door can be broken into
"Move from the window"
I can't believe how stoic he is
I mean he's always been like that, keeping his emotions to himself, blank looks on his face, never speaking more than he needs to
It's what made me vow to never tell him how I really feel about him
I've seen girls confess their feelings to him and he just stood there with no emotion, thanked them for telling him then saying he didn't feel the same
I can't handle him doing the same to me so I just keep quiet about my feelings
Aside from that I've gotten used to how he is over the years we've been best friends
But this is different
"Seonghwa, I'm making sure nothing comes close to the house. I'm watching so we can run if we need to. So we don't die"
I'm panicking but hell, I'm always the emotional one in this friendship
"We're not going to die", he says emotionlessly
"Are you kidding? We're in a fucking zombie apocalypse Seonghwa! We saw shit that we've seen in movies right in front of us. Did you forget that a zombie killed Hongjoong?"
"Of course I didn't forget", he says, rolling his eyes, "But watching at a window isn't going to do anything"
And I just explode
"My god Seonghwa!", I yell, moving to him and standing in front of him, "Don't you care that we could die?"
"Of course I care"
"You don't fucking act like it! You act like all this doesn't bother you"
He glares up at me, "What do you want me to do? Panic? How is that supposed to help anything?"
"It's not!", I shout, "But it would help to show that you actually gave a fuck. It would show some solidarity for our shitty situation!"
He just stares at me, "Is that what you want? You want me to panic?"
Realistically no because I know that it's not going to help
But right now I'm terrified and I want to know if he is too
"Yes!", I shout
"Fine", he growls, standing up
The next thing I know, he pulls me to him, his lips crashing into mine
My head spins as I grab on to his shirt, the world tilting as I kiss him back
It takes me a second to realize what's going on
That Seonghwa is kissing me
And he's good at it
"What", I say, pulling back in complete shock, "What are you doing?"
"Panicking", he murmurs, pulling me back to his lips, kissing me wildly
And I just let go, throwing all caution to the wind
We might die soon
I might as well be with the man I love once
His hands move down to my jeans, undoing the button and zipper
And that action causes a frenzy, both of taking clothes off each other
I get him naked but before I can look at him he pushes me onto the couch, his hands on my shirt, ripping it down the middle
Oh my god, that's fucking hot
His hands grab the front of my bra, pulling and ripping it apart, then he shoves the tattered remains of my shirt and bra off
He does the same to my panties, ripping the sides and throwing the pieces on the floor
His eyes roam my body, breathing hard, his hands touching every inch of skin, lighting me on fire
"Fuck, you're so beautiful", he murmurs, "So much more than I imagined"
Did he say.. imagine?
What the hell?
His hands open my legs, biting his bottom lip as he looks at my pussy
"So small", he says, touching me, his fingers running along my slit
"Fuck Hwa", I whimper, finally looking at his body
And proceed to choke on air
His body is amazing, muscular chest, arms and abs, like he was sculpted by God
I get an eyeful of his cock, gaping at how big, thick and utterly hard he is
His hand moves away from me but before I can even utter a sound, his face is between my legs, licking my pussy hungrily
"Oh my god Hwa!", I cry in pleasure
"So good", he moans into my pussy, his tongue running up and down quickly, "Fuck, I knew you'd taste this good. Fuck, I knew it"
"You...you knew?", I ask, befuddled and in such bliss, my hand grabbing his long black hair on its own
"I knew", he groans, his tongue licking my hole then sliding inside
"Fuck", I cry, my cunt clenching around his tongue as he lets out the loudest pornographic moan I ever heard
His fingers are gripping my thighs so hard, his tongue wiggling in my hole so pleasurably
"Gonna fuck this pussy so good", he whines, fucking his tongue in and out, my pussy spasming each time
As he tongue fucks me, his fingers move to my clit, rubbing in circles, increasing the pleasure
"Seonghwa, oh my god"
I've never been eaten out this good in my fucking life
"Please baby, cream my tongue", he begs, now thrusting his tongue in my hole as deep as he can, swirling it around before he pulls out
"Oh fuck", I cry, moving my hip and grinding against his face
"Mmm hmmm fuck my face baby", he moans, "God, want you to soak my face"
I'm doing just that, the movements of his hand and tongue sending me head first into an amazing orgasm
"Seonghwa! Seonghwa!", I cry in bliss, my entire body shaking, his tongue not stopping
"Yes, so good", he groans between tongue thrusts, "Pussy cream so good. So sweet"
I can't say a word, too caught up in the bliss
Seonghwa doesn't give me a break switching his movements
His tongue slides up, licking and rolling over my clit while two of his fingers push into my pussy
"Fuck, pussy so tight", he murmurs against my clit, the vibrations of his voice sending pleasure up my spine, "Can wait to feel you around my cock"
Oh my god, I can't wait for that either
His fingers wiggle in my cunt, pressing around as the tip of his tongue massages my clit
I'm in so much pleasure, tears are pooling in my eyes and he hasn't even fucked me yet
His fingers press a spot that has me seeing stars, my cunt completely drenching his hand
"There it is", he murmurs, pulling his fingers out then slamming them back into that spot
I cry out in bliss, his mouth wrapping around my clit and sucking hard as he finger fucks me at the same time
I don't know how he can make me feel this good but I'm so glad he is
Each suck has me clenching tightly around his fingers, each hit to my spot has my body shaking, my hand pulling his hair hard
"Mmm baby, your clit is so good to suck on", he moans, doing just that, "Throbbing so hard for me. And this pretty cunt clenching my fingers hard. Gonna cum for me again?"
"Yes Hwa", I whimper, "Suck harder baby"
He does, throwing me into intense bliss as I cum, screaming his name
He sucks and fingers me though the orgasm, tears escaping from the sheer pleasure I'm experiencing
When it's over, I just lay there in a daze
His fingers pull out, his tongue licking my pussy clean
He sits up and I look at him, my cheeks heating up from how wet his face is, covered in juice and cum
He just smirks at me, putting his fingers in his mouth and sucking
"So good baby", he tells me
He wipes his face then moves my legs around him
He leans over me, his lips against mine, kissing me as his cock pushes inside me
I gasp against his lips, my body arching as I feel him stretch me open on his dick
I can feel every fat inch, every ridge sliding in, making me shiver
His arm moves around my waist, holding me against him as he bottoms out, moaning in my mouth, my pussy clenching around him hard
His lips don't leave mine as he pulls his cock out then thrusts back in to the hilt
I moan into the kiss, pleasure seizing my body as he begins to pound hard into me
"Oh fuck", he murmurs, dragging kisses down to my neck, his hips moving at a speed I didn't think possible, "Fuck, so tight. So fucking wet"
I just moan, not able to talk from the sheer bliss, his cock fucking my pussy wide open
"I make you this wet?"
"Yes", I manage to get out, my hands on his back, my fingers digging into his skin, loving the feeling of his muscles moving as he fucks the life from me
"All for me?", he whines, his hands groping my ass, the sound of my cunt squelching around his cock so fucking loud
I should be embarrassed about how loud it is but right now I don't give a fuck
"Yes", I moan, tears running down my face as I gasp for breath
I squeeze my legs around his waist, his cock rubbing against my spot with each stroke
"You're pussy feels so good", he groans, "So fucking good"
Well I'm glad he likes it
It would totally suck if he didn't
"Is my cock making you feel good?", he asks shyly, "Is it good enough for you?"
Abso-fucking-loutely
"Yes", I yell, "Fuck yes Hwa"
"Are you sure? Wanna be good for you"
I honestly can't believe this is Seonghwa, my stoic best friend, asking me this
"I'm sure", I moan, "You feel amazing Hwannie"
He moans in my neck, the sound so beautiful, his fingers digging into my ass cheeks as he ruthlessly fucks me
"Such a big dick baby", I praise him, "So hard for me"
"Always jagi", he whimpers, "I'm always hard for you. Fuck, the littlest things you do turn me on. I'm always hard around you. You don't know how many times I had to hide it from you"
Well he did a fucking good job because I never noticed
"You don't know how much I wanted just throw you on the nearest surface and fuck you into oblivion", he growls, each stroke making my cunt clench down hard around him, his pelvis rubbing against my clit, bringing me closer and closer, "Wanted to taste you pussy so badly. It took everything in me to not drop to my knees in front out you and beg to eat your pussy"
I'm completely shocked
He never even gave a hint that he felt that way
"I dreamed about making you cum for me", he says in a strangled voice, "All over my face, all over my tongue, all over my cock. Fuck wanted you feel you cum on my dick for so long"
"Hwannie", I whine, his words and movements driving me so close
"Do you want to cum on my cock?"
"Yes, Seonghwa yes!"
"Then cum for me jagi", he begs, "Please baby, please"
He drives his cock in, fucking me right into a mind blowing orgasm, wave after wave of bliss crashing into me
"Seonghwa!", I cry, my body arching into his, my nails digging in his back, my cunt throbbing around him
It's so fucking good, so good
He moans in my neck, his hips not stopping, fucking me through the amazing orgasm
When it's over, he pulls out, flipping me over to my hands and knees, his head poking in my hole
"Again, fuck, I need to feel that again", he pleads, sliding his hard cock, back inside me
"You...you liked it?"
"Love it. Feels so good", he corrects, his hands slowly moving up my back, his hips grinding into me so his head rubs my spot
I feel his soft lips on my back, kissing slowly, following the path his fingers are taking
His moves over me, his chest against my back, one of his arms around my waist holding me in place
He pulls out, the drag of his cock sending pleasure up my spine
He surges back in, burying his cock in so deep, I feel him in my stomach
The pleasure increases as he moves, his cock stretching me wide open
"Fuck you're perfect for me", he whispers, "Your pussy was made for my cock"
It seems so
His big, I'm small but my pussy takes him all in and it feels so good
There's no pain, it's not uncomfortable, it's blissful
"You feel it too right?", he murmurs, his hips rolling into me, driving his cock in, forcing me open again and again, "You feel how perfect we are together? How we're meant for each other?"
"Yes", I gasp, my head in the clouds, my body shaking with each thrust, "Yes Hwa"
"Fuck, you're getting so tight", he groans, my cunt indeed pulsing very hard and quickly around his length, "Gonna cum for me again?"
I nod, not able to speak as his next thrust sends me right into incredible bliss
"Seonghwa", I whimper, my mind turning off while I cum on his cock
"Yes baby", he groans, keeping his entire cock inside me, grinding into me, "Feels so good, fuck"
As soon as the pleasure is over, I move forward, off his dick
"Jagi-"
"Gonna ride you", I tell him, turning around
His eyes widen as he nods
I lean forward, kissing him softly, his mouth moving eagerly against mine
"Lay down for me", I ask, in between kisses
He sits back, pulling me in his lap, then continues to slide down the couch until his head is against the arm of the couch, his lips never leaving mine
Straddling him, I move his length to my entrance and start taking him inside me
I push down, my cunt so drenched it takes just seconds to bottom him out
Like my pussy knows he belongs inside
Breaking the kiss, I sit up, his beautiful brown eyes staring at me
"You're so fucking beautiful", he says softly as his hands slide up and down my thighs
I smile shyly at the words I've always wanted to hear him say
"You are too Hwannie"
He's fucking gorgeous
And so hot with his hair full of sweat, his body glistening in it, his lips puffy from all the kissing
He smiles softly, both of us starting at each other until I realize I'm supposed to be riding him
Leaning my hands on his rock hard abs, I start moving, bouncing on his cock, starting off slow and getting faster with each move
"Oh fuck", he groans, his eyes moving to my boobs that happen to be bouncing in his face
His hands wrap around them, squeezing, fingers running over my nipples
Each touch of my nipples sends more pleasure down to my pussy, making me even wetter
His eyes drop to my pussy, biting his bottom lip as he groans
"Like what you see?", I ask
He nods, his eyes glued to my pussy fucking his cock
"Tell me what you see", I ask breathlessly, riding him harder
"You're pussy is so pretty wrapped around my cock", he murmurs, "Pussy lips so swollen, holding my dick between them"
"Mmm", I groan, moving so hard I'm jumping up and down his length, my pussy choking his cock
"Your clit is so swollen, throbbing", he continues in a mesmerized voice, "Your hole spreads so wide from me, swallowing all of me"
I know, I can feel that
And it feels incredible
My pussy loved his cock, sucking him in every bounce down, grinding on his head
His cock throbs inside me and it feels so good
"You're creaming my cock like I've never seen before. It's all over my cock and leaking onto my lap. It's so fucking pretty, decorating my cock", he praises, "Making a creamy ring at the base of my dick. God I love seeing it. Love feeling you"
"Seonghwa", I moan, his words, his voice driving me crazy
He sits up slightly, his mouth moving around my nipple, sucking softly
Pleasure zaps down my body, my cunt drenching his cock more
"Fuck, everything on you tastes so good", he moans, letting go of my nipples, his tongue sliding up between my boobs, licking the sweat there, "So good"
I keep fucking myself on his cock, my hand sliding in the back of his hair, fingers tangling in it
His mouth wraps around my other nipple, sucking harshly
"Everything on you is so good to suck on", he says between sucks, "Your skin, your nipples, your clit. Fuck, I could suck on your clit all day"
And I would definitely let him
My cunt pulses quickly, making him groan, "You're gonna cum"
"Soon", I agree, his cock feeling so good moving inside me
"Please"
"I will", I promise, "But I want you to fill my pussy too"
He groans around my nipple, "You want my cum inside you?"
"Yes Hwa", I moan, wanting nothing but that, "Can you?"
He nods, "Yes baby. Fuck, wanna cum in your pussy"
"Then cum for me", I ask him, slamming down, an earth shattering orgasm taking over, ecstacy plunging into every inch of my body
I hear him moaning around my nipple, his cock throbbing, his warm cum spilling in my cunt
We moan each other's names, his mouth sucking on my nipple periodically between groans, his skin shivering
I feel so full of him, his cum and I love it
I've never felt so satisfied after sex as I do right now
When the pleasure fades, his arms move around my back, holding me against him as he lays back down
"That was you panicking?", I ask, out of breath, laying my head on his chest
"Yeah", he murmurs, nuzzling against the top of my head
"I don't get it", I tell him
"I know you don't", he says softly, running his fingers in my hair, "I've never told you"
What is he talking about?
I said panic not be cryptic
"Told me what?", I ask, tilting my head back, looking at him
His eyes meet mine and my heart pounds at the emotion I see there
"That I'm completely in love with you"
My brain malfunctions as I take his words in
"What?"
"I have loved you for as long as I can remember", he says softly, "And I'm trying to keep calm for you, trying to figure out what to do to keep you safe because you mean everything to me"
I honestly had no idea this is how tonight would turn out
I had no clue he felt this way
"The truth is I've been panicking ever since this apocalypse started. I've worried everyday about how I'm going to keep you alive. Today was too close"
He's right about that
Him, Hongjoong and I were out scavenging for food when we ran into a group of zombies
One killed Hongjoong and I was so horrified at what was happening, I wasn't paying attention
A zombie knocked me to the ground and was on top of me trying to bite me but I held it back
Seonghwa threw it off me, got me up and we ran
We didn't stop until we got to this house
"Because of today, I have spent the last few hours panicking over us dying without you ever knowing how much I love you", he murmurs, "Panicking over us dying and never being together at least once"
Looking at him, I'm awed at the emotion I've never seen on his face
Lifting my head, I gently touch his face and press a kiss to his lips
"I love you Seonghwa", I tell him, surprised on his face, "I always have"
He smiles and it's so stunning, it takes my breath away"
"I love you", he says and I let the words I've always wanted to hear from him wash over me
"Hwa, as long as we're together we'll be ok", I tell him, "We watch out for each other, we keep each other alive. We find a place where other people are and we stay there. Live there. Together"
He nods, "Always together"
"Promise?"
"Yeah jagi. Promise"
I smile, so happy that I finally have my Hwannie
Yeah it sucks that we're in a zombie apocalypse but I believe that as long as we're together we'll survive
He kisses my forehead, then smirks at me
"Panic with me again?", he asks
I nod, giggling, "Yeah"
His mouth is against mine again, kissing me wildly, urgently and I fall into him
73 notes · View notes
clanwarrior-tumbly · 9 months ago
Note
104/150 with lethal company?
104) I can hear it calling my name
.........
[Y/n], January 29th, [Log 001]
---I'm afraid this will be my last log. So I'm keeping this encrypted.
Everyone's gone, but I'm still here. And I'm terrified. We started on this job as strangers, and we became family. Now I'm all alone because of a stupid mask. A piece of scrap we should've just sold off.
But he thought it would be funny to wear. I don't blame him. He was always a jokester, willing to do anything to turn a frown upside down and make light of our dreary trips. I know he didn't mean to hurt us. He thought it was harmless. Honest to god we thought so too.
Until he started vomiting blood and tried grabbing me. He tore off my helmet, along with my tracker, but I managed to get away. I still don't know how. But I wish I was smarter about it, because I got lost.
Then I heard the ship's engines.
They must've thought I was dead. Or maybe they all died and the autopilot kicked in. I'm not sure. I don't even know the current time. But what I do know is that I'm stuck here now. Possibly forever. I could make an SOS but that monster is still outside. I had to barricade myself in this storage room and wait until it goes away.
It keeps knocking. I can hear it calling my name. But I know it's not him.
To anyone who reads this, don't pick up the porcelain masks. They aren't worth shit. It'll tempt you to put it on. Don't. You'll find better loot elsewhere. If you see anyone already wearing it, kill them. Stun them. Run. Whatever. Just don't let it take you.
And if you see me wearing it, put me out of my misery. I promise I'll understand---
Finishing what would likely be your final log, you sighed and slumped back against the wall, letting the tablet slip from your hands.
You don't know how long you've been stuck here--whether it's been hours or days.
But all you know is that the Masked on the other side of the door hasn't left. It was using your coworker's corpse, mimicking his voice as it pounded on the steel and tried convincing you to let it in, even shattering the window. For some reason it refused to leave you alone, and kept begging and begging until it began screaming unintelligently...
That would go on and on until eventually it would cease, weakly clawing at the door, only to rinse and repeat once it rested its voice.
You were starving, trying your best to ration the jar of pickles you were luckily able to find in this storage room.
Unfortunately, that's as far as your luck will go at this point. They were sour and made you want to vomit every time you ate one. But while you didn't want starvation to take your life, you weren't exactly sure how you really wanted to go out instead.
It sure as hell wasn't gonna be from that bastard who took away your friends.
"It's clear....all clear......come on out....the ship is leaving..leave....out.....COME OUT..!! COME OUT!! COMEOUTCOMEOUT-!!"
With your heart hammering in your chest, you curled up and covered your ears, squeezing both eyes shut. 'Fuck, it's losing its mind again...this is a nightmare..why did I ever take this job?' You tried not to focus on the screams so much, and instead prayed for some kind of miracle.
But in space, would anyone really hear your prayers?
Yet somebody must have, because the screaming abruptly stopped a minute later, being replaced by the sounds of heavy thumping and growling drawing near.
You only knew one other alien creature that made those.
And you knew it was pissed off.
Getting up and backing away from the door, you fearfully clutched a stop sign as you heard a series of terrified shrieks, roars, slamming and crashing sounds....before silence followed, save for the low growls you heard earlier and chewing noises.
Cautiously, you went back over and pushed aside one of the things covering up the window, and the sight on the other side was quite nauseating:
The Thumper was hovering over the Masked's body, teeth covered in blood and flesh as it tore into it, clearly wanting to savor this midnight snack.. But eventually it decided to drag the rest of the corpse away and to another part of the facility, only leaving behind a few shattered fragments of white dirty porcelain.
You couldn't believe it.
You were actually happy that a Thumper, of all things, saved your skin.
But you sure as hell didn't want it coming back for a second lunch. Now was your window of opportunity to get out of here. The adrenaline pumping through your veins was the only reason you were able to grab your loot and book it out of that storage room, being careful not to run into that Thumper again.
At least now you could go outside and (hopefully) send an S.O.S.
101 notes · View notes
cultofdixon · 2 years ago
Text
Just You
Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • He knew the prison would be temporary. He shouldn’t have put bad vibes out into the universe then he wouldn’t have almost lost you. But he was thankful he had you with him…even if there was a whole new threat • ANGST/SFW/NSFW - unprotected sex [no glove, no love] / grinding / cum eating • TW: Canon Violence / Injuries / Anxiety / Scars
Requested by: @kaylakern4
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Where is she
Where is she
Where the fuck is she?!
Daryl snapped out of his anxious thoughts feeling the familiar soft hands grab onto his bicep. He turned to find Y/N staring up at him as his attention focused on her forehead bleeding and how she looks like she’s been through hell. But then he remembered—-
“We gotta get out of here”
“Haven’t you heard me?! I’ve been saying that for a few minutes! We gotta go!” Y/N pulled at his arm as the two ran out of the ruins of the prison.
Please look at me.
Please look at me.
Bring it up. Please—
“I think my head is still bleeding…but I…there was no time to grab shit and book it. I just grabbed what I needed most” Y/N frowns on the other side of their little campsite as Daryl took that as the opportunity to get up from his spot pulling his rag out from his back pocket.
Daryl sat beside her dragging the pack they managed to scavenge taking the canteen out. He pours some of the water on his rag before giving her a look asking for permission, waiting for her to eventually nod not knowing exactly what he was doing. Then he lightly dabs her head lac cleaning the blood off her face. Her beautiful face. Checking to see if it had gotten worse with all the running they’ve been doing but thankful it was just a cut. A scary cut that bled that much.
“Thank you Daryl…”
“‘Course” Daryl put everything away and before he could get up from his spot, Y/N tiredly rests her head on his shoulder.
“Why does this keep happening to us…”
“Makes yea wish there was somethin’ more permanent I guess”
Y/N brought herself close to take in his warmth that he was more than happy to provide even if he was terrified to wrap his arm around her.
What’s wrong
What’s wrong
Y/N.
“D, you see that?” Y/N gestures to what looks to be an abandoned country club. Daryl followed her lead to the place as he wanted to be first to enter in case of anything but Y/N took out her knife and went ahead.
Daryl followed close while wishing she’d look at him and tell him what’s on her mind. Since leaving the prison, the light she carried faded and it was eating him alive.
“Think anything here is worth the trouble?”
“The first aid kit on the wall is.” Daryl pushes past Y/N as she looked through the clothes that were scattered everywhere in the room they were in. “We can patch up your head”
“Sounds good…” Y/N picked up a green sweater more so green earthy and not neon. She took the opportunity of Daryl’s back facing her so that she could change her shirt into the sweater.
The archer turned toward her at the wrong moment and quickly swung back feeling the heat rise to his face after catching a glimpse. Y/N adjusts the sweater brushing off a bit of the dust that collected on it before noticing his tense figure.
“You can look now” She says almost in a whisper as Daryl kept his gaze to the floor up until he was within arms length of her. Y/N took out of the presented first aid box what she’ll need before letting him put it away. “Think we can squat in here for the night?”
“Yeah just. Let me help yea and then we can barricade the door just in case”
After taking care of such, Y/N got a fire going in the middle of the main dining hall. As she tosses more newspaper onto the fire to build, she felt a blanket rest on her shoulders. Y/N didn’t say a word right off the bat knowing Daryl did such as he makes his way to sit on the opposite side of her. Which sparked something in her to say—
“We can share”
Daryl quickly looks up from fiddling with his knife when she said that as the silence made Y/N’s confidence lower thinking she crossed something. But the archer picked himself up and sat beside her feeling half the blanket drape over his shoulder making both scoot closer to the other.
Wrong time
Not the right place
But when will it ever be
“Daryl…”
“Hm?”
“I’m scared” Y/N frowns feeling Daryl’s arm wrap around her to bring her in his embrace. He held her, let her get comfortable in his space…resting her head in his shoulder and bringing her legs over his lap.
“Me too, sunshine…me too”
When morning broke, Daryl always woke first and knew he was holding Y/N as they are both awake most the night. But he didn’t expect her to be asleep on his chest the next morning. He didn’t move or say a word…he was enjoying this moment. Until they were both spooked by the sound of a walker hitting the barricaded door. Y/N lifts herself up and off of him but still had a hold on his vest when Daryl sat up.
“They can’t get it. We’ll be okay”
“I know…” Y/N realizes she was holding onto his clothing and let go before standing up. “Think we should move?”
“Just take it out, hold up here a few more days…” Daryl suggests watching her nod in response as she leaves to take care of said walker causing a ruckus.
The two explored more of the club finding pretty much nothing of use besides some cans of food…mainly fruit cocktail…empty liquor bottles, a lot of money that Daryl started to collected but both came to the conclusion that it’s worthless in the apocalypse, and finding empty rooms or full ones with the deceased.
Another night came in and Y/N took the lantern she found in the outdoor shed they checked to one of the empty rooms with a few couches. She set it on the window turning it on to illuminate part of the room as Daryl rests the blanket they shared on the couch he assumed she would take.
“You’re the one with no sleeves…you need it more than me”
“Nah, I’ll be fine” He sighs upon impact of sitting on the dirty couch across from Y/N’s. “Could be worse”
“True…it could” Y/N shut the door and pushed an end table in front of it just in case. Daryl should’ve done that so she could’ve adjusted before him.
Talk to her
About anything
Try to at least
“D”
Daryl snapped out of his thoughts to find Y/N sitting with him on his couch. “Yeah?”
“Do you think we’ll find any of the others?”
Be optimistic or be honest
Which will she feel better hearing
“Daryl…be honest with me”
Shit. Daryl shrugs. “I don’t know. We’ll head out tomorrow…maybe follow the tracks to find’em”
“You think we’ve lost some of them?”
“Honest?”
“Please”
“Probably…” He frowns, relaxing once more when Y/N brought her head to rest on his shoulder. “But hopefully we didn’t…just. Feel bad for losing who we did before we separated”
“Hershel…”
“Mhm…” Daryl continued to carry that frown, even when the beating of his heart grew faster the second Y/N brought herself close resting her hands on his face.
“You know it wasn’t your fault right? None of us could’ve seen that happening”
“Why do yea always know what to say…when I don’t know everythin’ on that beautiful mind of yours?” His confidence spoke through on that last bit but more his honesty. Daryl knows best what it’s like to keep everything inside and not share until he was at his breaking point. But it took her…spending time with her at the CDC…to the farm…and the prison…being able to trust someone he cares for so deeply, that he would hate for the one he loves to not trust him enough to speak up.
But it was more so the words were stuck in the back of her throat as Y/N suddenly felt the tears roll off her cheeks. Causing Daryl to feel a bit of regret when asking that question but he instinctively took her hands into his, squeezing them.
“Y/N…I-I didn’t—-“
“When the prison first got shot at…I was afraid I had lost you right then and there…but when I saw you looking around in the courtyard searching for something, I couldn’t have been happier to know you were alive. I just…couldn’t find the words earlier” Y/N sobs feeling him rub circles with his thumb on the top of her hands bringing her tearful eyes to look. “I can’t sit here without you knowing that—-“
“I know” Daryl interrupts, catching her confused expression that made his face heat up realizing what he was trying to say. “I know how yea feel…cuz I’m the same way…toward yea”
The archer thought his words stunned her but given the way she leaned toward him, he knew to close the space…pressing his lips softly against hers. The first kiss lasted a second, but he didn’t hesitate to go in for another that slowly turned into a more heated moment. Y/N snaked her arms around his neck bringing him close as he gripped onto her thighs.
They parted to catch a breath as Daryl continued to hold her thighs feeling her shift in his touch. He pulls away for a moment only for Y/N to anchor her hands on his broad shoulders bringing her into his lap. Feeling his hands return to her thighs bringing them to her ass pulling her more into him.
“I don’t want to wait anymore, Daryl”
“Take what you want from me, sunshine”
“I just want you” Y/N returned her lips to his feeling his hands bring themselves to the small of her back under her sweater to feel her soft skin. She pulls back once more watching Daryl lean forward to capture her lips once more before pulling her sweater off of her, locking eyes with her waiting for permission. “I’ve always wanted you…so please, have me too”
“Just you. I only ever wanted you” Daryl assures her, bringing his lips back onto hers moving their position to have her laying on the couch and him towering her with her legs wrapping around his torso to keep him there.
The archer couldn’t help himself when bucking his hips in her center to get a small gasp to escape her when they parted. He trailed his lips to her jawline, down her neck leaving a few hickeys that brought out more of her sweet music. Y/N couldn’t help herself but grind up against him to get some friction to fill the need as Daryl couldn’t help but pin her hips to the couch resulting in a whine to escape her lips.
“Daryl…please”
“Please what, sunshine?”
“Please fuck me” Y/N begs not wanting him to pull away but he did such to unbuckle his belt as she followed suit by pulling herself up to get her jeans and panties off that once Daryl got himself out of the confines of his pants, he grabbed the ends of her jeans pulling them off.
Daryl tosses her jeans onto the pile with his pants and her shirt. Next with his boxers and her panties. He pulled her back toward him by her legs hearing her squeak to the action before gluing her attention to the size of his cock when he positioned such to gather some of her slick.
“Fuck…all of this for me?”
“Only you. Always you” Y/N moans, bucking her hips every touch of her sensitive bud from his tip.
His woman…fuck, his woman watches as he positioned himself at her entrance glancing up for any signs of discomfort when he started to push himself in. Fucking tight Daryl grunts leaning forward over her bottoming out in her staying still until she adjusted as she brought her arms around his torso.
“Please move…fuck me, D. Mark me as yours”
“Mmm. You know I will” He growls started to buck his hips thrusting nice and slow at first.
Y/N held onto him feeling him hit that sweet spot instantly making it impossible to keep quiet. She gripped onto the back of his vest when he started to pick up he pace while also bringing his dominant hand to rub circles on her clit. He felt the way she clenched around him that she was getting closer and didn’t tell her not to or anything like that. He wanted to feel all of her for their first time.
“Fuck. Daryl I—“
“Let go sunshine, I’ve gotcha” He grunts hiding his face in the crook of her neck feeling the tugging of his shirt given her reaching climax along with the moan to rip out of her.
Daryl was careful when reaching his own feeling her legs wrap around his torso for him to hit that sweet spot with his thrusts. The second he felt he was close to release, he pulled out and came on her stomach. He hovered above her panting with her as she releases her death grip on his vest bringing her fingers to her stomach taking some of his cum and bringing it to her mouth. She locked eyes with him while tasting his release resulting in a satisfied hum from her and a groan from him.
“You tryin’ to rile me up?”
“Mhm…”
After cleaning up and getting re-dressed, Daryl got up for a second to grab the blanket from the opposite couch bringing it over to theirs. Y/N, the second the archer sat down, brought herself to lay on him making him move her for a second to bring his legs onto the couch. She pulled herself up more so that she could rest her head in his chest feeling the blanket drape over her and Daryl wrap his arms around her.
“You should get some sleep”
“It’s barricaded. You can sleep too D” Y/N looks up at him smiling when he kissed her forehead.
“Fine, sunshine. Then we can look for the others in the morning”
That was the plan and they started by following the tracks in hope for any sign. Daryl was already protective of Y/N and vise versa…now it was a bit more intense when they know how the other felt.
Daryl suddenly brought Y/N close when he heard something. That something being footsteps that only grew from one pair to six as this unknown group made themselves known and surrounded the two. Causing the archer to ready his crossbow and his partner to reach for her gun.
“Now now. You two look lost”
Silence
“Hm. Well…we ain’t here to make trouble of any kind” the one that was obviously their leader didn’t take long to make himself known. “Just wondering somethin’”
“We ain’t gonna make trouble. Just leave us be” Daryl states covering Y/N as she suddenly jerks forward when a hand smacked her behind.
“Damn got a nice piece of meat with yea. Mind if I—-“ Suddenly the man that spoke met the other end of Daryl’s bolt as he didn’t hesitate to take him out for touching Y/N. That didn’t sit well with the group as the others suddenly raised their weapons pointing to the archer.
But the leader told the group to lower their weapons and back away as he draws closer.
“Gentlemen…we know what’s ours and what isn’t. Len here clearly couldn’t tell by the marks she’s got that she’s been claimed. Don’t poke the bear alright?” He laughs shortly after saying such. “Names Joe…and we’re looking for somebody and given by the looks yall carried before we jumped yea, that you were also looking for some people”
“What do you want” Y/N frowns feeling Daryl suddenly take her hand squeezing in but also directing her out of the stranger’s line of sight.
“You help us find our guy, we help yea find yours. We’ll protect each other as long as you follow our rules”
“Which are what?”
“Whenever somebody sees something they like and yells “claimed” it’s theirs. Be lucky we didn’t let Len take your woman by those standard form of rules…now do we gotta deal or what”
They didn’t want to at first. But it would be a bit easier finding the others in larger groups. More people to cover bigger areas.
But being the only woman full of men brought on a lot of staring, even if your heart already belongs to someone and in their terms you already belong to someone.
“I don’t have a good feel about this D…” Y/N whispers bringing herself as close as possible to Daryl as he noticed the two Harley and Billy were looking at her until he locked eyes with them.
“I don’t either…but I’ll keep yea safe, and the second there’s a window. We’re booking it” Daryl whispers to Y/N resting his forehead against hers.
But that window was finding Rick, Michonne, and Carl on the road…and little did they know that Rick was the one that killed one of their own.
“Joe. Don’t do this. These are good people” Daryl made himself present to the situation as Y/N was trying to figure out a plan that didn’t hurt anybody. But that was never going to happen.
“See…now that’s where you’re a liar” and that triggered another Claimer to suddenly grab Daryl forcing him against the car and starting to beat up on him.
Rick was about to say something when suddenly Y/N came out from the tree line about to grab onto the claimer when another, Harley, grabbed her and forced her to the ground pinning her. That action on top of another claimer Dan, pulling Carl out of the car preparing to do the worse. Triggered Rick to do the unthinkable by killing Joe by ripping out his jugular with his teeth stunning the remaining claimers to give the window they needed. Michonne killed Tony without a second thought and made a beeline for Carl shoving Dan off of him. While Daryl got a hold of the claimer’s neck and snapping it before taking his machete and striking the one lunging for him. Then suddenly stabbing right through the head of the one that was strangling Y/N.
As Y/N shoves the body off of her coughing like crazy, Daryl dropped to his knees tossing the machete out of his hands to hold her face getting her to focus on him and focus on her breathing.
“I’ve gotcha. You’re okay. Just take a deep breath” He said repeatedly until she did as she tries to pull herself up to hold him but he got the idea and instantly brought her into his arms gripping onto her for dear life. “I’ve gotcha sunshine…we��re okay”
“We’re okay” She repeats through tears holding him and looking back to see Rick holding onto his son. Y/N sighs from relief that they didn’t lose any of their own.
The morning came a few hours later with Michonne resting in the car with Carl sleeping on her. Rick took a breather with Daryl sitting beside him and Y/N keeping a look out.
“We didn’t…we didn’t trust’em. And were gonna leave but thank god we didn’t.”
“You came at the right time. Granted. You didn’t need to get beaten in the process. Scared the fuck outta Y/N…didn’t know y’all were close like that”
Daryl looks over in a protective manner seeing Y/N is perfectly fine in that moment as he turns back to his brother.
“Takes time to find your person”
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vodkabodies · 1 year ago
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Invisible String
Summary: An endless search for a remedy comes to a halt when Harry realizes he’s been tied to it, to her, all along.
Pairing: Harry Styles x Musician gf
WC: 475
Warnings: If you're NOT a fan of romanticrry, this is not the post for you ;)
A/N: Can you tell I’m a sucker for fluff? Here’s a little ‘thank you’ for the love you’ve given over my previous post <3 This is a really short one but still, enjoy!
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You were there all along, hidden in plain sight. At award shows, at after parties, even at our mutual friend’s wedding ceremony. Sometimes I wonder, what took us so long, then? For years you were always just a friend of a friend, an artist under the same record label, and now you have your own mugs in my kitchen cabinet and a side on my bed that will always smell of you.
Whenever I get lost in my thoughts like this though, as if by instinct, a connection only you and I are tied to, a brush of your fingers through the curly strands of my hair always wipes the questions away. As I lay here, sulking in your gentle yawning and the scent of your shampoo, there wouldn't have been a more perfect time than now. Not seven years ago when you were getting out of a toxic relationship, and I from a boy group I’ve been in for years to pursue my own endeavours.
We were meant to cross paths, eventually. At the perfect place, and at the perfect time.
I was scheduled for a meeting the very night of your opening show. I ran into my good friend, your manager at the time, who was on his way to support you. At that very moment, I received a call that our meeting was postponed. He invited me to join him instead, and so I did. With no intentions of coincidentally meeting my twin flame that same evening.
Ever since then, it’s been you.
As if tied to an invisible string, distance from you started feeling like hell. Like being pulled by rip currents, away from the safety of the shore.
I started to fear that every song I'll ever write from that day onward would be about you. And how you snorted a laugh when my voice pathetically cracked the moment I introduced myself to you, your hands that fit perfectly in mine as you shook it, and that voice, the one that grew a bed of flowers over the barricades that disabled me from running directly to you, the same one that now hums me lullabies.
You are the cure to my sleepless nights, the remedy for my mundane days, and extra lonely drives. I, a hopeless romantic, an artist, the product of loving and losing, has fallen deeply in love with you in a way that only words can explain, and only lyrics can describe. 
I’ve written about finding no antidotes for curses, been convinced that loving someone else in the past was the cure, and thought another person had it all along. But it was you. Not a pill I could swallow, an action I could do, or something someone could possess. All along I was tied to the one I’ve spent lifetimes searching for.
“You are the antidote.”
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A/N: Hope you guys caught all the references I snuck in here. If you did, feel free to comment them below! I appreciate the support and feedback for my first work <3 More to come! (possibly a new fic??) As always, thank you for reading!
Twitter: @vodkabodies
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meownotgood · 2 years ago
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bloodthirst. / hayakawa aki
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When your mission goes horribly wrong, you and Aki are left injured and cornered. Thankfully, for a devil like you, healing your injuries is easy. All you need to do is drink a human's blood.
pairing: hayakawa aki x gn!reader
word count: 6.4k
tags: 18+, blood play, blood sucking, biting, dry humping, grinding, finger sucking, praise, reader is a devil hybrid, aki is a bit mean, power imbalance (aki is the reader's superior), reader refers to aki as "sir"
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this work contains explicit content intended for 18+ individuals. please read the tags and do not interact if you are a minor.
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God, he's stupid. 
If only he was smarter, if only Aki had used his brain for more than two seconds and maybe considered the fact that the devils would ambush you both like this, then maybe this wouldn't have been happening right now. If only he was stronger, strong enough to hold his own against the devil horde, instead of needing to rely on some insolent, disgusting devil to protect him and drag him to safety. Stupid. 
Aki's hand returns to clutch his side the second he's finished barricading the door. There's a pounding in his head, and a dull sting coming from right under his ribcage, where one of the devils lashed him. He can feel blood, warm and wet as it soaks through the fabric of his shirt, pooling over his palm, staining his skin crimson. 
Shit, shit, shit- You're hurt, what do we do? We're so fucking screwed- 
Your voice barely registers over the ringing in his ears and the haze quickly overtaking his mind. Aki stumbles backwards, and when his back hits the wall of the small storage room, he slides down, collapsing on the ground. His side hurts like all hell, but there's also an ache coming from his ankle; he tripped while the two of you were running away, and with his luck, he probably sprained the damn thing. 
I just, what the hell are we supposed to do?! Neither of us can fight like this, are we gonna die? We're gonna- 
"Fucking- Shut up, will you?" Aki snaps, wincing the second the words finish leaving his mouth. Just trying to speak hurts. He presses his palm firmer against his side, grunting from the immediate sharp sting of pain. "We're not… We're not gonna die. Just calm down." 
At least, Aki thinks you're not gonna die. 
Damn devils, they're craftier than he thought they'd be. When he first got the call for this mission — Yeah, it's a bunch of little devils, not sure what they are, but they seem pretty weak — Aki assumed the two of you would be able to handle this by yourselves, no problem. But when you arrived at the scene, "a bunch of little devils" turned into a swarm of them, and "they seem pretty weak" turned out to be an outright lie. Perhaps he should have asked for more back-up. 
Either way, you're not gonna die. Aki will find a way out of this, he always does. He has to, because with the way you're currently pacing about, gnawing nervously on your fingernails, muttering anxiously to yourself, it's pretty safe to assume you won't be of much help. 
There must be some way, something he can — No, he can't move. Maybe you can, no, shit, that's not gonna work… 
"Aki?" 
Your voice rouses Aki from his thoughts. You've stopped pacing now, that's good. But you're still shifting from heel to heel, a nervous expression on your face, your hand pressed to a particularly nasty scrape on your cheek. "You have a plan, right?" 
Aki leans back until his head hits the wall with a gentle thunk. He exhales an exasperated sigh, blowing air out through his mouth in an attempt to push his sweaty bangs out of his face. 
No, he doesn't have a plan. In what world would he have a fucking plan for this? 
"How well can you move? On a scale of one to ten." Aki asks through ragged breaths, his mouth hung open, his chest rising and falling with vigor. Sweat is beginning to form at his brow in little droplets, cascading down to drip from his jaw. 
You answer, "Like, a six? Or a six and a half?" You're staring down at your feet like your untied shoelaces hold the key to get out of here, and you press your palm further into your cheek. 
"I can move okay. But I don't have enough blood to transform… I can take your sword but I- I don't know how to use it."
Aki stares listlessly at your shadow projected on the ceiling, traveling back and forth as you begin to pace again. 
There's no way he's moving, that's out of the question. If he stands up, he's just going to hurt his ankle, putting him out of commission even more than he already is. And he can't summon Kon here, either — She'd eat the devils, sure, but she'd also probably topple the whole building. Guaranteed extermination of the devils means nothing if the two of you are left buried under a pile of rubble. 
Aki racks his brain as much as his headache will allow. If he can't do anything, then his only hope is to rely on you. Yeah, he really doesn't want to do that, but he's not sure he has a choice in the matter. And if you're going to help him, if you're going to be of any use… 
Right then, Aki remembers something he was told shortly after he became acquainted with you. He found it hard to believe at first, but he eventually came to terms with the fact that you're a devil, but not an ordinary sort of devil. No, his boss would be too kind to stick him with someone who's at all easy to understand. You're not just a devil, but a human as well, and this means that unlike normal devils, there's a way you can recover some of your strength. A way you can regenerate, in simple terms. 
Aki leans forward, off of the wall, his back slumping. "Hey, devil." 
You freeze in place, turning towards him and standing to attention the second you hear his stern voice. Aki's eyes meet yours for what must be the first time in hours; his eyelids are heavy with exhaustion, but his gaze is as sharp as ever. He gives you a once over, his shoulders tensing, the bridge of his nose knotting up with slight irritation. 
"Do you think if you can transform, you can get us the hell out of here?" 
"I… I think so. Yessir," You stutter, nodding your head feverishly, although you don't sound too sure of yourself. 
Aki's lips purse into a thin line for a moment, before he replies, "And you can heal by drinking someone's blood, right?" 
Your eyes widen, your posture straightens. "I can. Yeah." 
"Alright, okay." Aki leans back again. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat when he swallows, and with one hand still pressed deft to his side, blood beginning to drip down his knuckles, he uses the other to gesture towards you, crooking a shaky finger in his direction. "C'mere." 
You hesitate for a second, but when Aki grumbles out, Hurry up, you're swiftly stumbling over to him on unsteady feet. You walk to stand by his side, kneeling down beside him. Your fingers twiddle in nervousness as you fold your hands in your lap, staring at him with anticipation. 
Aki twists, huffing a frustrated breath when he scoots back to prop himself up more. His free hand comes to grasp your chin, his fingers trembling slightly, his touch smearing his blood over your skin. He yanks you forward rather roughly, his thumb ghosting over your lips, his eyes locked onto yours. 
You can hear the sound of his breathing: heavy, shaky, like it takes a lot of effort just to expel the air from his tired lungs. You're so lost in the way he's staring at you, the determined look in his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering, sweat dripping from his forehead, his lips quivering ever-so slightly — You almost miss it when he quietly commands through half-gritted teeth, "Hold still. And open your mouth." 
The harsh tone of his voice makes you obey before you're even thinking about it. You press your hands firmly to your knees to steady yourself, your lips parting open — Aki squeezes your cheeks, his eyes narrow, and he shoots you a look so sharp you're sure it could cut right through you. He scolds you between ragged breaths: "No… No. Wider. Don't make me say it again." 
Your mouth opens wider, wider, but you hardly have time to complain about the way your jaw begins to ache. Aki brings two of his blood-soaked fingers, middle and index to your lips, wasting no time shoving them in. 
His movements are clumsy, forced; Aki presses his fingertips to your tongue, and he shoves the digits so far down your throat you feel like gagging, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You can taste his blood on your tongue, metallic and sharp, stale. Rich like his cigarettes, and so fucking delicious. Your senses feel heightened, your heart pounding faster, your face heating up. 
Shit, you shouldn't be doing this, should you? You're not sure if this is appropriate, a devil drinking a devil hunter's blood, and your superior, fucking Hayakawa's blood, no less. You swear you heard somewhere that devils can get put down for something like this. But, do you really have a choice in the matter? Aki is the one who instructed you to do this, and even if he hadn't, how else were the two of you supposed to get out of this mess? Listening to whatever he tells you to do is the best call here, surely.
Either way, it doesn't matter. You don't have the time to debate about what you should or shouldn't be doing, and now that you've had a drop, now that you know how good Aki tastes, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself, not even if you tried. 
Your knees are starting to shake — You're losing your balance, and it makes things ever the more clumsier. Aki tries to hold your face still, but you're wobbling and teetering, choking on his fingers, pulling back from him instinctively when he shoves them in too far. 
"Tch," Aki scoffs, and you gasp when he suddenly drags his fingers out of your mouth. He eyes them with a look of disgust, his lips pursing, and he promptly wipes your saliva off on his pant leg. "Dammit, didn't I tell you to hold still? You're making this difficult." 
"Sorry, sir." 
Aki winces when he presses his hand to his side once more, soaking his fingers in more of his own blood. "Try again," He commands, holding your face tightly, tapping his finger against your cheek to coax your mouth to open for him. 
"Don't move so much this time, and make sure you lick it all up. The more blood you get, the sooner we can get the hell out of here. Got it?" 
With your mouth open wide, and with Aki already shoving his fingers back in, all you can do is nod. 
He's a little gentler this time, a little more patient, carefully smearing blood from his fingertips over the flat length of your tongue. You're still shifting, although not as much as before; Aki notices when your hand slips from your knee to his leg, gripping him tightly to keep your footing. 
Aki sighs. His free hand shifts to your waist, and he carefully pushes you closer — Come here. — until you're climbing over him, your legs on either side of him. And then, when your knees tremble and start to give out, you're plopping your weight on top of him, settling into his lap. Aki tries not to notice, but your weight pressed against him makes his breath hitch in his throat, and causes his heart to pound just a little bit faster. 
He's unable to take his eyes off of you, both from the display, and from how close you are; your tongue swirls around the length of his fingers, and your eyelids grow heavy, gaze lust-filled as you eagerly taste his blood. When you've licked up everything, his digits soaked from your saliva, you bob your head. Your soft lips wrap around the base of his fingers, his digits practically down your throat. 
Your gaze flickers upward, then, until you're staring at him with doe eyes, with a look that's a mix of desire and indecision. Aki swallows down the lump in his throat, and he watches as you give his fingers a gentle suck, as if you still need more, as if you're trying to suck the blood right out of his pores. 
Feeling the pressure, Aki abruptly drags his fingers out of your mouth again. He eyes you up and down; you wait for him to tell you to get off of him, to scold you for what you're trying to do. Instead, he simply clears his throat awkwardly, before he asks, "So? Can you transform now?"
Your tongue darts out to lick the remaining smears of blood from your lips. "I don't think so. Sorry. It takes a lot more blood if I get it in this way." 
"What do you mean?" 
"I'll regenerate faster if the blood is fresh." 
Aki's eyes widen. He shoves his bottom lip between his teeth, and he glances towards the door; still barricaded, for now. And although there's no sign of the devils, if he focuses hard enough, he can hear a faint scratching sound, the echo of the devil's claws as they scrape against the door. 
Aki doubts they'll be able to get in for a while, considering the way he's blocked the entryway. But they know where the two of you are, they're clearly growing impatient, and he's losing blood, lots of blood. It's beginning to drip and pool below him, collecting in a deep crimson puddle on the concrete floor. Fuck, can he even afford to lose any more? 
It doesn't matter, he can't think about it. He can't hesitate, he just can't. He's already a liability, anyways, and there's no time to lose. If Aki wants to have any hope of getting out of here, he needs to place his full trust in you. 
Aki grips his side again, pressing his palm firm to his wound to try and lessen the bleeding. He reaches up with his free hand, grasping his tie, loosening it. He pops the first few buttons on his dress shirt. Then, Aki hooks a finger around his collar, tugging it down, tilting his head up, exposing the bare skin of his nape. 
"C'mon, then." Aki's eyes flicker down, then back to your face, gesturing exactly what he means. "Bite me." 
"Are… Are you sure I should-" 
"Fuck, just do as I say." Aki orders, speaking through a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping. 
You eye him up and down. Your throat feels dry, your mouth starting to water. Aki's chest rises and falls, rises and falls. You can see the way his blood covers his hand, the way it pools onto the ground, echoing a faint drip, drip sound when the droplets splatter onto the concrete. 
When he sees you start to lean in, Aki allows his eyes to flutter shut, his head hazy. He focuses on his breathing: in, out. Nice and slow. Calm down, just relax. Just make sure you stay awake — Your breath is warm when it fans out over his skin, your lips are soft when they hesitantly press to the nape of his neck — You'll be out of this soon, it'll be fine, it'll be… 
Aki inhales a sharp breath in through his teeth, feeling an instant, searing hot pain as soon as your incisors sink into his soft, tender flesh. You bite down hard, breaking a layer of skin; a small wound forms, and you suck on it harshly, drawing flesh blood. 
His hand flies up to grip your shoulder, and his hips squirm a little under your weight. Beneath your lips, you can feel the way Aki's pulse thrums eagerly, and in your ears, you can hear the way his breath comes out quicker, shallower. 
You're so damn close, shoved up against him on his lap. So close he can feel you — One of your hands is pressed deft to his chest, feeling the pound of his heartbeat, and the other gripping his jaw, tilting his head up to give you better access to his neck. So close, Aki can fucking smell you, so sweet and intoxicating, your scent mixed with the sharp, metallic smell of blood that lingers in the air. 
And when your tongue presses to his skin, your breath warm, your mouth wet, the wound stinging when your tongue flicks, licking up more of his blood — Aki exhales a shuddery groan, and he drags his hand up to squeeze your neck, then up further to carefully hold the back of your head. 
"S-Shit," Aki gasps, his grip tightening on your hair, "Is that… is that not enough? Are you sure you- Oh, fuck-"
Aki stutters into a moan when you shift on his lap, grinding your hips against where he's growing stiff beneath you, your teeth nipping at a new, tender spot on his nape. His cock is tenting his slacks, throbbing incessantly, already so fucking hard, and your mouth sucking bruises into his neck just makes him throb even harder. 
His head feels woozy, his whole body overwhelmed by the intoxicating combination of pain and pleasure. Your hips grind against his cock, making his side throb, but his whole body tingle. Your mouth feels hot on his neck: soft lips and sharp teeth, so rough, but so gentle at the same time. 
God, he's so fucking hard; was all of this just because of how close you are, just from your mouth on his neck? Aki feels dribbles of precum soak his boxers when you grind down on him once more — This time, with much more deliberation. Soft, little whimpers fall from his mouth, punctuated by shaky breaths. 
"Fuck, fuck, fuck…" Aki's eyelids flutter, his eyes threatening to roll into the back of his head, and he whines when you roll your hips into his stiff cock, "You're- I c-can't, I-"
You freeze, suddenly. Aki catches his breath as you pull back, wiping the blood smeared on your lips with the back of your hand. When you meet his eyes, Aki is staring at you with a pathetic, desperate look in his gaze, his pupils blown wide. You watch as it shifts into annoyance, the bridge of his nose knotting up, his jaw clenching, his hands moving to firmly grip your hips. 
Aki grinds you down onto him in tandem with his hips bucking upward. He grunts softly, his eyes shut, and little rocks of his hips grind his hard cock between your legs. When he speaks again, his voice is weak, but it still has an irritated, stern tinge to it, the kind of tone you only hear when he's scolding you: "Don't stop, don't fucking stop. That's an order." 
Aki begins to rock his hips slightly, shaky moans and gasps falling from his lips. His mouth is parted, his face is flushed out: a shade almost as red as the blood that's beginning to soak through the fabric of his suit jacket, painting his white dress shirt in a shade of vivid crimson. 
His hands trail up, up, feeling the curves of your sides, smearing blood from his palms over your shirt. He grips you tightly, guiding you to grind down on him to a deep, slow rhythm. "That's it," Aki praises; he can feel the delicious friction on his stiff cock, even through his slacks. He's so hard it aches. "God, just like that, juuuust like that." 
Your hands move to grab his shoulders to steady yourself, and after a particularly strong grind down and thrust up, Aki suddenly gasps — One of his hands flies to grip his side, his eyes screw shut, and his breath comes out quickly, in between his shuddery winces in pain. 
"Shit, Aki?" Your tone shifts into worry in an instant, your expression softening. "Are you okay?" 
The both of you need to get out of here, and soon. Aki knows this; he knows he's losing blood, lots of it, and giving you more of what he already doesn't have definitely didn't help things. His head feels fuzzy and light, like he's high, like he's dizzy. When he tries to open his eyes, the whole room is spinning, and his vision is blurred at the edges. 
Aki knows the two of you need to get out, he knows he should stop messing around. He knows this, so why is he not doing it? And he knows he shouldn't be thinking all of these disgusting thoughts, but he just can't stop his mind from wandering. Why does he want you so badly, why does he need you so badly? Why is he so, so stupid? 
"Yeah, yeah, just- It's just, dammit-" Aki's eyebrows furrow, and he presses his palm even harder to his side. "Just keep going. I'm gonna be fine, okay?" 
You eye him with a look of concern, but quietly nod your head in response. Carefully, you readjust your position, and then you give your hips an experimental roll against him; Aki sighs deeply, his eyes rolling up, his head slowly falling back to hit the wall behind him. His prominent Adam's apple bobs when he swallows, and a low groan falls from his mouth when you press yourself even harder onto his crotch. 
There's no answer as to why, Aki realizes. At least, he can't come up with one. But he can't seem to come up with a reason to push you off of him, either.
The door is barricaded. He can't hear the devils outside of it anymore. He's still bleeding, but not as harshly as before. He'll be fine. You have time. You can make good use of it.
"Shit, shit, don't stop… A-Ah, fuck-" Aki whines, sounding a little too pathetic for his liking, but he can't help himself; the way you're rhythmically rubbing yourself up against him, the sounds of your quiet whimpers and gasps, and the fact that he can't do anything about it — It's making him go fucking crazy. 
His hands shake when he grabs your hips again, guiding you to grind down on him deeper, harder, and his voice is stern when he commands, "Do it like this, fucking please." 
God, if only he could take control right now, if only those goddamn devils hadn't torn him up like this. The throbbing pain in his side makes it so he can hardly move. He can't buck his hips up into you like he so desperately wants to, like he needs to. All he can do is beg, and rely on you to give him the friction he's craving. 
Hell, if he was able to move right now, he wouldn't even bother with that — Aki would take you in whichever way he wants. If his ankle wasn't messed up, if he wasn't practically bleeding to death, he'd have you bent over for him, right in this storage room, while he shoves his aching cock deep into you. He'd fuck you exactly how he pleases, and he knows you, like the good little subordinate you are, would take it. 
As much as you get on his nerves, and as much as you are a stupid devil, you're always so good to him. Always there at his beck and call, always listening intently to every order you're given. You'd listen to whatever the hell he says, because you're always so eager to please him, aren't you? 
Yeah, you are. That's why you're grinding against him eagerly, to the rhythm he's set with his grip on your waist. That's why when Aki holds you tighter, his voice rough, bordering on a growl when he commands, Bite me, again, you're obeying immediately, your head dipping until your fangs connect with the bruised flesh of his nape. 
Your eyes flutter shut as you suck at the wound on Aki's neck, his blood metallic on your tongue. Aki hisses, the pain sharp, but so fucking good. His hips shift, and you take the hint, grinding down on him so deeply it causes him to moan, his cock throbbing hard in his slacks, leaking wet precum onto his briefs. 
When you pull away, Aki meets your eyes, staring at you with a look in his gaze you could only describe as insatiable. His chest heaves with each breath, and his jaw clenches from the pain, or perhaps the pleasure, or perhaps both. 
Maybe it's because of the blood loss screwing with his head, or maybe it's because of how amazing you're making him feel, but Aki suddenly can't tear his gaze away from your lips. He finds himself gripping your chin between his fingers, tugging you closer, closer, and when your lips press to his own, he's truly lost any sense of control he was hoping to hold onto. 
Aki kisses you deeply, his hand moving to hold the back of your neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. You press closer, and he pulls you in, as close as he can get you. He nibbles on your bottom lip, his tongue swirls with yours, and fuck, he can taste his own blood, metallic and sharp — The feeling takes him even higher. 
In the heat of the kiss, Aki tugs your dress shirt out from where it's tucked in your slacks, shoving his hands under, gliding his palms over your bare skin. His touch is cold, and his fingers are calloused, rough when they skim up your sides. Then, down, where his large hands grab your ass, groping and squeezing. You whimper into his mouth, and Aki groans in unison. 
He tastes good, so good, so delicious you can't help but want more. Your body feels warm, your head feels floaty; you can't stop your hands from gliding up and down his chest, from hastily unbuttoning his suit jacket, from reaching up to tug it off his shoulders. You grip his tie, next, loosening it until it hangs limp around his collar, allowing you to start working at his dress shirt. 
You stop when it's been unbuttoned halfway, exposing his flushed chest, his defined collarbones, the scars on his skin. You pull away to place urgent kisses on his jaw, his cheeks, his ear — Aki shivers, your lips soft on his skin, your teeth sharp when they nip at his chest, then his collarbones, nibbling at the sensitive bone. 
As you kiss his lips again, one of your hands fists his collar, shoving him further against the wall, while the other glides through his hair; you yank at his hair tie, until the dark strands come loose from his topknot, falling to frame the sides of his face. 
Aki isn't sure what overtakes you. Perhaps it was the thirst for blood that's ingrained into the minds of every devil, including yours. Or perhaps your desperation simply made you rougher, less aware of what you're doing with your own fangs. Either way, when you suddenly bite down on his tongue, Aki can't hold back a gasp in pain, nor can he stop his hands from gripping you so hard he's sure your skin will bruise. 
And yet, he keeps kissing you, he doesn't stop, because he can't. He presses himself up further into you, his cock throbbing so hard you can feel it pulse between your legs, his stiff bulge shoved right up against you — Aki's tongue stings, but his dick feels so fucking good, waves of pleasure surging through his body from the way you desperately hump him. 
You suck the blood from his tongue, lick it all off his teeth, your head getting higher at the taste. Energy surges through your body like a drug, lightning up every nerve, making you move faster, even needier. When you pull apart, connected by a bloodied line of saliva between your tongues, Aki is practically panting, gasping for air between each rough grind into him. 
"G-God," Aki chokes out, his nails digging into your sides so hard you're sure it'll leave marks, just as your hands come to grip his broad shoulders. His face is warm, flushed pink, all the way to the tips of his ears. 
"Does it feel good?" You ask with a shaky voice, as if you're desperate to hear his praise, to know how amazing you're making him feel. 
Aki nods feverishly, "So good, s-so fucking good. Don't stop," His eyes meet your own, his pupils blown wide, his eyelids heavy. "I want you to make me cum." 
If that's what he wants, then he's going to get it. If that's what your superior is ordering you to do, if that's what Hayakawa is asking of you, you're gonna make him cum, you're sure of it. 
"Mhmm," Your eyes screw shut, your head dips, forehead pressed to his shoulder, "Yes, sir." 
Your pace picks up, your thrusts into him getting harder, faster — Aki guides you by your hips roughly, until he's practically using you to get off, like you're his toy. You can feel the warmth from his stiff cock between your legs, how it throbs and twitches, the way it seems to swell even more when your fingers run through his long hair, gripping close to the scalp. 
"Fuck, you're so good to me," Aki whines, and he grabs the back of your neck to tug you off his shoulder. You meet his sharp gaze, his eyes filled with lust and need. His words slur a little when he asks, "You want some more?" 
Judging by the hungry way he looks at you, and the way he moves to press his hand to his side, you know exactly what he's talking about. You give him a particularly desperate roll of your hips, eliciting a groan from him, before you're babbling, "Yeah, yeah, yes please, yessir-"
"No," Aki scolds, cutting you off. He lifts his hand from his side; the blood smeared on his fingers is mostly dried and stale, so he brings them to his lips. He gathers saliva in his mouth, then spits a glob onto the digits, getting them nice and wet. His spit drips down his knuckles, stained red from the mix of the blood on his fingers, and the blood that still lingered in his mouth, on his tongue.
Aki looks up towards you, a frustrated sort of look on his face, his eyes narrowing. "Ask me again. Say my name." 
"I- Sorry, yes, please, Hayakawa, sir." You stammer, hardly able to get out the words, your hips shifting a little in impatience.
"Tch, you're close," Aki scoffs. He presses his fingertips to your lips, his spit dripping down them, and his free hand snakes around to grip your cheeks, squeezing to hold you still. "First name." 
"Please, please, Aki." 
Your voice is so desperate, so needy — The way you say the syllables of his name makes it sound so fucking pretty, and Aki can't get enough of it. 
He rewards you, shoving his soaked fingers in your mouth, allowing you to lick them clean. You taste his spit, his blood — Your tongue swipes over his knuckles, and you let out little gags as you choke on his fingers, struggling to take them with the way you're still grinding against his lap; the sound just turns Aki on even more than he already was. 
Aki pushes you off of him just a little, adjusting your position on his thighs, before he grabs one of your hands, guiding it between his legs. Voice sultry and rough, dripping with lust, he leans forwards to whisper the dirtiest words into your ear. 
Look, I'm so fucking hard here. You feel it throbbing? 
You nod as Aki scissors his fingers in your mouth, using his other hand to guide you to squeeze his cock — He's so warm, so thick, so hard, and his breath hitches when you palm him, his eyes fluttering shut. Aki hastily pushes your hand away, grabbing your waist and pulling you back onto him, in tandem with shoving his fingers further down your throat. 
He can't help but utter a string of commands, his voice deep and stern, because he knows you'll listen to them. He knows you'll give him exactly what he wants. 
Shit, suck on them. And grind against me harder, get me close. 
You're obliging the second you hear his voice in your ear: you suck hard on his fingers, sputtering around them, drool leaking out from the corner of your mouth. You grind on his length harder, rougher, each roll of your hips shoving you so close against his aching cock. Even through his slacks, the friction is perfect, and Aki feels heat begin to pool in the pit of his stomach. 
His eyelashes flutter, his heart pounds in his chest. His grip starts to grow loose, and his breath comes out faster, faster, faster. 
That's it, just like that. Such a good little devil. Say my name again.
His praise gets you higher, your mind foggy, your vision hazy. Mumbling around his fingers, you chant his name over and over again — Aki, Aki, Aki, each time seeming to push him closer and closer to the edge. Aki's head is just as dizzy, swirling from the lust, from the blood loss. It feels like he can hardly think, can hardly muster up coherent thoughts; all he can do is drown in the pleasure and the way his own name falls so beautifully from your lips.
I'm so close, you're gonna make me cum, just go a little harder for me. 
He speaks through ragged pants and fragile gasps. Your movements become frantic, and his hips are unable to sit still as he feels his high build closer and closer; he ruts himself into you as much as he can, ever-so slightly, moaning from the added friction — S-So good, I'm gonna, gonna… 
Aki cuts himself off with a moan, gripping you harder, his hands shaking, his thighs squirming. You keep up the pace, your hand gently holding his jaw, and you examine his expression: his bangs, messy and stuck to his forehead, his eyelids drooping from the pleasure, his lips parted, quivering. He meets your gaze, a sweet, gentle sort of look in his eyes, before he tosses his head back. 
With a stuttered groan of your name, Aki falls apart. His eyes close, and he drags his fingers from your mouth to wrap his arms around you, pulling you close to himself. His muscles begin to relax as he rides out his high, cumming in his slacks, getting his briefs sticky and wet and filthy. 
Your movements halt, and you let him catch his breath. His breathing is still shaky, but it slowly starts to calm. Aki cracks his eyes open, sitting up; he attempts to look at you, but his vision is blurred, his head is swimming, and his body sways forwards, leaving you to have to catch him by his shoulders. 
He looks so damn disheveled, sweat dripping from his forehead, his hair down and an utter mess. You lost his hair tie, so there's no way you're putting it back up any time soon. His suit jacket is falling off his arms, his shirt is unbuttoned, and his tie is hanging loose around his collar. He has a fucked-out sort of expression on his face, his eyes glazed over, his eyelids heavy and threatening to close.
"You… You okay?" Aki manages, his voice weak and hoarse. His palm comes to press against his side, and although it doesn't feel like he's bleeding much anymore, it fucking hurts. There's a hard, aching sort of throb coming from his wound, spreading across his body. He's not sure if his wound somehow got worse, or if he felt this way all along, he was just so wrapped up in things that he didn't notice it until now.
His ears are ringing, and his mind feels fuzzy, exhausted. Aki's gaze flickers down to the ground for a moment, and he can't see very clearly, but he can still tell how the floor beneath him is soaked red, how his blood has been pooling out onto the concrete. 
"I'm fine, Aki, are you? You don't seem okay." 
Your voice hardly registers. Yeah, he's stupid, definitely stupid. So, so stupid. He shouldn't have wasted so much time, shit, what was he even thinking? The two of you need to get out of here, the devils are, they must be… 
As if on queue, there's a loud slam on the door, then a huge bang as the barricade of shelves Aki set up earlier finally falls over. Aki grabs your shoulder, dragging you close with urgency, forcing you to meet his gaze.
"I'm gonna pass out," He says matter-of-factly, swallowing, "You're gonna get us out of here, right? I trust you." 
He... trusts you?
"Of course," You nod, and begin pushing yourself up off of him. You reach down, offering him a hand. Aki takes it, and you drag him to his feet, slinging his arms around your shoulders, holding him up and keeping him steady. He leans on you, his head rested on your shoulder. His breath is warm when it tickles your neck, and strands of his soft hair brush over your cheek.
There's another slam at the door. The devils are going to break in any second now, but with how much of Aki's blood you drank, you feel ready for them. Waves of energy course through your veins, and your knuckles clench and unclench, itching for a fight. You'll protect him, you know you can. He's counting on you, after all.
"Aki?" You ask, grabbing his hand from where it's slung over you, giving it a gentle squeeze. His palms feel cold and clammy. "You still with me?" 
"Barely," Aki's voice is so quiet you almost can't hear it over the clamoring of scratches at the door, the devils seeming to grow louder and louder, more and more restless. He grumbles, leaning his chest on your back, before continuing, "If you need more blood, just take it." 
You roll your eyes. "I have enough, I took more than enough from you. You should rest, I'll hold onto you." 
Another loud slam at the door. It sounds like it's about to break at the hinges, but Aki's deep breaths in your ear keep you from panicking, and the rush you still feel keeps you alert. 
"I'll pay you back later for this." 
You can't help but laugh at how serious he sounds, but before you can ask if he means paying you back for you protecting him, or for you making him feel good, or for some mixture of both, his weight on your back goes limp. His head rests on your shoulder as his consciousness slips.
Yeah, you'll see about that. For now, you've got to put his blood to good use.
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thank you to my beloved @f1gments for helping me with this, I couldn't have done it without you :)
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jisungchan · 1 month ago
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orange juice | psh
you turn oranges to orange juice
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⚔︎ warnings: ed comfort! extensive descriptions and mentions and scenes of restrictive eating, purging, and the thoughts/feelings behind an eating disorder. sunghoon helps the reader through her physical purging, her thoughts, and helps guide her toward a path of recovery. female collegiate volleyball athlete reader. triggering toward those who have experienced eating disorders.
a/n: this is very self-indulgent, as i have been personally struggling more with my ed lately. recovery is possible, even if it does not seem so. i hope the best for all of you, and my dms are open if you need to talk <3
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it’s the same routine everyday, you can’t help it. something about the taste of food in your mouth and the feeling of the chewed remnants in your guts make it churn. you try to stomach it, you really do, but without fail you always run to the bathroom, dying to get it out of your system. you don’t know exactly when it started. growing up in a society that pushed for women to be coke skinny, lurking on tumblr and coming across thin women bragging about their thigh gaps, and even magazines at the grocery store bullying women for being anything over 100 pounds probably did it. you often picked up those magazines as a young girl, flipping through the pages to find the ‘hidden secrets’ they claimed would make you lose weight quickly. but when did it evolve into this? into barely being able to keep food down? you’re not too sure when it happened. 
another day, same routine.
your volleyball team is having a pasta night for the big tournament this weekend. it was tradition, you guys either cater huge pans of pasta or decide to go out. this time, you all decided to go to a local authentic italian restaurant, the best in town. and you are determined this time, you know how good the pasta is and you want to be able to enjoy a plate with your teammates.
you take your fork and twirl the long pasta noodles to form a cocoon. you opted for a simple red sauce pasta, hoping the small amounts of dairy and pure vegetables will help you stomach the food. you chat with your teammates as you keep twirling; you look like a kid picking and playing with their food. eventually, you pick the fork up, long thin noodles covered with the marinara sauce, and a little piece of tomato even gets caught up in all your twirling. you bring it to your mouth, holding your breath in to barricade the scents around you. now, it’s in your mouth and you chew slowly to get your tastebuds accustomed to the textures and flavours. it tastes good, you can admit that, and a small smile adorns your face as you successfully swallow it down without too much trouble.
after more talking, and chugging many glasses of water, you are able to finish your entire plate, something which you have not been able to do in a long time. 
however, the contentedness and ease don’t last very long.
as you get into your car to drive back to your apartment, you feel your stomach churn. that all too familiar feeling of nausea starts to creep up, but fast. you press on the pedal a bit heavier as you feel the noodles slithering their way back up your esophagus, threatening to travel further up to the base of your throat. finally, you make it home. you are so caught up with running to your bathroom, you don’t even notice the extra pair of shoes at your front door as you make a beeline to the toilet. 
bliss, that’s what it feels like. well, in the moment it feels like hell. the contents of your lively team dinner make it’s way past your dry, parted lips as you retch and retch and retch into the poor toilet bowl. you feel bad, all the days and nights you’ve acquainted yourself with it makes it feel like a second bed though. the countless times you have had your arm thrown over the side of the seat, your head resting on it as you breathe deeply to regain any sense of composure. 
but once you even your breathing and brush your teeth, a little too aggressively, it feels like you are on cloud nine. the quietness of your home stirs and you can lay in your bed, having the horrid feeling out of your system. 
however, you didn’t quite make it to those parts.
living alone, you developed the habit of not closing doors. why would you? it’s not like anyone would walk in and catch you on the toilet or changing in your room. so, when you feel someone’s smooth palm rubbing your back, and the other gathering your hair out of the way, you lurch. ever aware of your current state, you jolt further into the toilet, getting the rest out of your system before you spray your agony on them, even if they are an intruder. 
once you are confident you have gotten it all out, you finally turn to look at what kind robber is soothing you at your most vulnerable. you can only imagine your face as you eyes widen with shock and horror at the concerned look on your boyfriend’s face as he takes a damp cloth to wipe your face. 
wordlessly, he reaches over to draw a warm bath for you. there are no words exchanged as he helps you strip out of your clothing and brush your teeth for you, ever so gently, while the bath water pours into the tub. he takes some of your soap and pours it under the running water, a faint smell of eucalyptus and lavender filling your senses and overpowering your earlier activity. he helps you to carefully get in, every touch of his reposeful as he treats you like fine china that might break. and as soon as he dips your washcloth to cleanse you, salty tears drain from your eyes to join the water surrounding you.
he drops the washcloth and kisses your forehead, a tender yet all knowing moment of you both understanding what’s happening. sunghoon went through the exact things you are, but as a renowned figure skater. he knows both the physical and mental turmoil sports take on your body, especially the harder and more competitive you compete. and while he knew this was a problem, especially one that you struggled with, he didn’t know it was quite to this extent.
you watch him as he stares at your face, and you can tell he’s putting the pieces together. how when you eat you only eat small portions, claiming you eat more, smaller meals a day. the way that you often go to the bathroom after eating. he knew you always brushed your teeth after eating anything, but he innocently assumed it was because you were diligent with your oral care, not that the taste of food in your mouth alone could cause you to gag and convulse. 
you see as a few tears slip past his long, dark eyelashes. he doesn’t even take the time to wipe them off as he cradles your face in his hands, looking into your eyes this time. and he whispers, 
“i’m so sorry.”
you shake your head, he has nothing to be sorry for. this is your problem and your problem alone. you feel horrible that you’ve brought him into it. you feel horrible as he was probably just trying to surprise you after dinner with cuddles and watching the dozens of media on your list. but you know your boyfriend, and he knows you inside and out, so it doesn’t surprise you when he reads your mind.
“i’m sorry you didn’t feel comfortable sharing this with me. but i promise i will help you through this. we’re in this together, yeah?”
you nod your head, he always knows just the right things to say to ease your overly anxious mind. eventually, he finishes cleaning you as he praises you for how strong you are, giving you affirmations of how he is so proud of you. 
he dries you off and changes you into some pajamas, which he picks out to be one of his many tshirts and comfy shorts. you both crawl into bed as he pulls you into him, playing with your hair softly as he presses many sweet kisses all over your face.
it doesn’t matter to him that he just say you pouring your guts out 30 minutes ago, he thinks you look beautiful as always right now, snuggled next to him. 
the serene silence doesn’t last very long, not that you expected it to. you knew that you both couldn’t just carry on pretending like he isn’t now overly aware of your mental struggles. 
“you know, people always say that ‘you are so much more than your body,’ but i don’t think that’s fair.”
you look up at him questioningly, where is this going?
“i think your body deserves more credit.” he holds your hand in his, intertwining your fingers against his. 
“your body has been with you your entire life, it has gotten you to where you are today. it has gotten you through all the hardships you’ve unfairly gone through. it has helped you laugh at my terrible jokes.” he pauses as you both chuckle at the remark. and you are happy he’s still being his usual, dry humoured self. 
“it has gotten you through all the workouts, conditioning, and training to earn you a starting position at one of the top volleyball schools in the nation. and, more importantly, it has allowed me to meet you. it has allowed me to see and understand and love you.”
you feel your eyes prick up with tears, and you notice his eyes mimicking your watery state. 
“it has gotten you to each and every date i planned. it has helped your brain love me and make me feel like i am the luckiest guy ever to be graced with you by my side.” 
he presses you closer to him, and you feel his steady heartbeat as it soothes you into a calmer peace of mind. 
“i think we should both treat it a little nicer. we can start slow, i can make you your safe, comfort foods. we can start with little bites to get you accustomed with keeping it down. and if you ever feel the need to run to the bathroom, i’ll take your hand and lead you there.”
“i don’t want you to think i’m judging you, so if it takes some more time of you feeling like this and not getting better, i won’t ever leave your side.” he finally takes his other hand and wipes some of your tears away, then does the same to his own.
“of course i want you to get better, but you also have to want to get better, for yourself.”
you sigh, almost defeatedly. but you know this is for the better, you are hyperaware that you cannot keep living like this. in your logical mind, it seems so trivial. but you can’t help the feeling that grows on you when you think of eating. 
“i love you so much, and i promise you, we’ll get you through this together. i’ll help you look for a therapist and dietican whenever you’re ready. i want you to get all the support you need.”
you sigh again, but this time at your boyfriend. again, sunghoon has his way with words, especially the ones he speaks to you. he doesn’t shame you or make you feel pathetic for your struggles, and he knows you’re going to need more than his loving support to fully recover without feeling like he’s not enough. he knows just what you need, and he doesn’t bring you there himself, but helps you through your journey of self-discoverance and wellness wherever and whenever you need it. 
you find yourself to actually look forward to getting better. the thoughts and dreams have crossed your mind, the idea of being able to go out to eat with sunghoon and fully enjoying whatever meal is in front of you guilt-free. but it all seemed so far away before, so impossible. you felt like that was a life you didn’t deserve to experience and live.
but now, with your new-found confidence spearheaded by the love of your life, it doesn’t feel so hard anymore. of course, there is going to be ups and downs, that’s with any hardship. but, now that you know you have and can get more proper support, your dreams of growing old with sunghoon seem in reach. 
“let’s start with getting some rest for your big tournament this weekend. i can’t wait to see how well you do with the body you have worked so hard on to get you there.”
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pigeontheoneandonly · 6 months ago
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Mass Effect: Labyrinth, the sequel to Mass Effect: Discovery, continuing the adventures of Nathaly Shepard.
Chapter 50: The Teltin Facility
Excerpt:
They’d reached a vast open area ringed by concrete barricades, with a small mezzanine overlooking the space.  No debris sat within it, no tables or chairs or, hell, even an empty decorative planter; just the ruin of time and feral vegetation.  It was an egregious waste of real estate on a planet excessively hostile to buildings. “Looks like an arena,” said Joker, and then at her raised eyebrow, “You would not believe how bored people get hauling freight from Arcturus.  I wouldn’t have believed it until I saw it.  Cerberus at least got me back to doing something that matters.” Jack laughed.  It was a spooky sound, like the cackle of an interrogator right before they plunged down on the syringe.  “You think you know Cerberus.  Neither of you knows the first fucking thing.  That squeaky clean ship? Miss Cheerleader? Running around lobbing grenades at Collectors?  That’s not Cerberus.  That’s a show they’re putting on to pull you in too deep to crawl back out.  Let me tell you about Cerberus.”
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