#i would feel horrible if i started a fic and like never continued it due to my constantly growing lack of motivation and laziness

[sunrise-on-the-shore]

i remember when i had fun writing. wild times.

[sanzusslutt]

Whatever it Takes

Pairing: Teacher!Nanami x Student!Y/N

Warnings: This fic contains explicit content. Minors please get away now. Praising, fingering, clit play, clit licking, smut, Y/N is female, mentions of the words cunt, pussy, and other namings of the female body part, Nanami is hard and mention of squirting.

Summary: You would do anything to stay in your handsome professor’s class

*knock knock*

“Yes?” The professor called. Knowing full well it’s his non great but potential student that he is been tutoring since the start of the semester.

“It’s y/n, professor! May I come in?” You said cheerfully. You weren’t exactly one of the worst students. You could be one of the top student but with a professor that hot and handsome, you couldn’t help it when he asked you if you’d want to take private studying lessons.

“Of course you may. I’ve been thinking about calling you here myself to be honest…” he said, looking troubled about something.

You knew what troubled him. The not long handed exam paper on his desk that belongs to you. It’s not like you did horribly on the test, but how concentrated can you be when your charming teacher is sitting on his desk, rolled up sleeved that are about to tear apart from the muscle of his arm, blond locks falling beautifully on his forehead, brown glittering eyes looking around the classroom and eventually ending on yours, yellow tie loose around his pretty neck due to those two damn unbuttoned buttons of his shirt. How can you not look at him?

“How did I do on the exam?..” you questioned as soon as you got inside the classroom, closing the door behind you.

“Not well.. especially for the time we consumed on studying for this, it’s not good.” He exclaimed, looking at you and then back at the paper again. “I can’t do more anymore, y/n” he sighed, looking back at you with a disappointed look.

“I will do better on the next one, I’m sure of it!.. please don’t stop the privet lessons, they’re honestly so helpful..” you tried convincing him, hoping he would take pity on you and continue the lessons. That was not the problem tho..

“I’m not talking about the lessons.. i have to fail you y/n. You haven’t had any improvement since we started the studying sessions, how can I keep you in my class with those grades?” He explained, watching your pretty eyes get from pleading to glooming..

“Oh.. no.. professor you can’t fail me!. What will I tell my parents if I fail after all they did for me?..” you said, hoping you could change his mind.

“Y/n, I’d be more than happy to keep you in my class but without improvements, it will be really difficult..” Nanami explained. Every word falling from his lips was like a stub straight to your heart, fearing you wouldn’t have the chance to be alone with him anymore. Meaning that, all your made up scenarios of him, coming closer to you inch by inch, his hand on your waits when he explained a problem you couldn’t understand, his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath on your neck, his palm from your waist slowly coming down to your lap and going upwards towards your-

“Y/n.. I warned you, if you haven’t improved till next semester, I will not be able to have you in my class..” he exclaimed as he placed his palm on the hand you subconsciously settled down on his desk, keeping your composure as you watched your dreams fall one by one.

“Is-.. isn’t anything I can do about it right now?..” you asked, not letting the last spark of hope go off. “I’ll do anything to stay in your classroom.. please, I’ll improve I promise, I’ll do better..” you’ve never begged anyone to stay with you or for you to stay with them. But here you are, begging your stunning teacher to stay in his classroom.

“Anything?” He questioned. His eyes darkened at the question, leaving you with a sense of wonder.

“Anything.” Your tone came out harsher than you expected but your point was perfectly made.

Nanami got up from his chair, coming towards your smaller figure, placing his hand on your face and with his thumb on your chin, he gently lifted upwards your head, making eye contact as he looked down at you. His eyes were dark, like the eyes of a predator looking at his pray. Except, you weren’t a pray or a victim. You were there with full consent and excitement of what may happen. Your hand stayed glued to your professor’s desk, using it to hold your composure and not fall down the cold floor as your handsome teacher caressed his thumb on your bottom lip.

He stared at you for a couple minutes before he finally closed the distance between your faces, leaving you with your eyes widen and a giant exclamation mark on your head. The kiss started as slow, sensual. But as the minutes passed, it became more passionate, more intense. As you thought it couldn’t get any better, he placed his other hand on your waist, sending chills down your spine and a bubbling feeling inside your stomach.

Your little head was up to cloud nine, your thoughts messed up as you tried to comprehend that it was your mesmerising teacher that was kissing you. The one you constantly thought about, the one who you mercilessly touched yourself at night thinking about, who could make a mess in your panties in only an hour of tutoring without even touching you, this person was now kissing you.

Your head started getting dizzy as your professor’s tongue explored your mouth and his hands found perfect place on each side of your waist. The grip he had on your sides became harder as the moment heated and the feeling inside your stomach became unbearable. He was there to fix that though..

In a matter of seconds, you were picked up on the air by his strong and muscular arms that found place under your thighs. Your hands immediately circled around his neck, trying to keep your balance as his hands gripped your thighs hard enough to leave nail marks on them. That was the least of your concerns in your already fucked up little head.

He gently placed you on his desk, caressing softly the fat of your thighs as he slowly came closer and closer to the visible stain on your panties. He took a moment to look at your pretty, messed up face as he broke a kiss, mesmerised by your state, your puffy red lips, your full of lust eyes, your light shade of red cheeks and the saliva connecting your lips together. The lips that drained all the sanity from your brain just a moment ago, now found place on your neck. Licking, kissing, sucking, only making your state even more pathetic than what it already was.

The soft moans that fell from your lips was like music to his ears. A music that he was already drained to. A melody that could wake up any part of his body faster than anything. He composed himself, bringing you closer to his muscular body by the hard grip on your waist. His hands then, found place on the fat of your ass, on which he lifted up your skirt a little to grip. His lips found their place on your neck again but this time he slowly motioned downward with every kiss. Your head fell back as he started unbuttoning your shirt, kissing every part of your, now marked, neck till your soft breasts. One of his hands found place on your boobs while the other untied your bra, letting your boobs fall free and setting it down beside you, along with your white shirt.

It was now visible how impatient he started to get as he begin to harshly unbuttoned and removed his shirt, leaving his perfectly made body on full display. His lips were on yours once again, his hand travelling from your ass to your thighs and stopping near your arousal. You were embarrassed of him seeing the mess you’ve become for him and the wet stain on your panties didn’t really help covering that up. Nothing could actually help you cover that but the only thing in his head was to make you more of a mess than you already were. Easy enough..

The moment his thumb slightly touched your cunt, a moan fell from your lips so unholy that all the blood from his body seemed to went straight to his cock. His head went blank in seconds, not actually believing that just a moan of yours could get him so fucking hard and impatient. He HAD to hear that again. The moment you actually thought about the ungodly moan that came through your throat and the embarrassment hit you like a truck, his thumb started doing circling motions on your clit, making it impossible for you to contain your control.

“Oh god, darling.. I wanna hear that again..” he mumbled as his fingers slightly pushed aside your panties and finally touching your naked cunt, giving him exactly what he asked for. His fingers begun with an excruciatingly slow pace against our clit, trying not to lose control and fuck your brains out at that exact moment.

“Professor.. please..” you plead, wanting way more than that but too embarrassed and brainless to say it.

“Please what, darling?” he quickened the pace of his thumb, making extremely difficult for you to think, let alone form, an actual sentence.

“I-.. I want more.. please..” how could he resist your teary and pleading eyes while you’re asking for more? Your eyes widen as he pressed the outside of your cunt and slowly entering you with only his middle finger. You sensed your body giving up on you as you laid on your back on your teacher’s desk, giving him better access to move his finger inside you.

His pace stared off slow, wanting to save every moment and every moan that left from your lips for the rest of his life. The mesmerising sight that unraveled in front of him, seemed untrue. You, laid on your back on his own desk, hair spread across your face and on the wooden surface beneath you, your glossy eyes looking back at him, your bottom puffy lip between your teeth trying to stop the ungodly sounds, your breasts perfectly placed on each side of your enthralling body and your arousal coating his fingers and the desk under you.

He would be a liar if he said he didn’t imagine having his fingers deep inside you. But you being his student, he knew he could never actually be in that situation. It wasn’t right. Yet in this moment, the only thing in his mind was you. You and everything about you that makes him feral. 

Although his slow pace, even the thought of his fingers being inside you and having him above you, was enough to make you see stars. As his pace begin to quicken, he adds another finger, making you moan in response from the friction and your mind was quick to blur any thoughts you previously had. You were a mess only from his fingers. He began to move faster and hit that sweet spot inside you endlessly. Your sounds only becoming louder, making his patience running thinner second by second.

“You’re doing so good, darling..” he said as he lowered his head to finally get a taste of you that he’s been so eagerly craving.

Everything was starting to get too much for your little brain and body to handle. His praises, his voice, him hitting repeatedly that spot inside you, those brown eyes looking down at you, it was all too much. And as you thought it couldn’t get any better, he added his tongue to the mix. The sound that escaped your lips, will forever be craved in his mind. He begin to lick and suck your clit as he abused the sweet spot inside you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

You coated his fingers with your juices as they moved in and out your wet cunt. The feeling of the tip of his fingers hitting that sponge spot inside of you, made your moans even louder than before, leaving him with not other choice but to place his hand on your mouth and muffle the unholy sounds you were making before someone could hear.

“You’re such a good girl.. letting your teacher fuck that sweet cunt with his fingers.. would you cum for me, darling?” His voice was so smooth but the demanding tone couldn’t be hidden.

“Yes!.. please!.. I’m gonna cum please don’t stop, professor Nanami!..” that was his last straw. His name falling off your lips and you begging to cum? How could he resist such a request when you’re such a good girl for him?

“Go on then, dear. Come on your teacher’s fingers.” He demanded as he abused once again your clit with his other hand.

And with that, your back arched against your teachers desk and you felt everything that was building up a moment ago, being spurted all around. Your orgasm hit you like a train as he continued to pump his fingers inside of you a little longer. He stared at you as you tried to catch your breath, hair messed up, your eyes glossy with tears falling at each side of your pretty face, mouth hanging open, lips red and swollen from the bitting, your neck marked all over, your breasts moving up and down with your breathing and your pussy spamming and spurting liquid as he removed his fingers.

“You did so good, darling.” He praised as he licked your arousal from his digits.

He waited for you to catch your breath and help you put your clothes back on when you saw the tent formed in his pants. He made you cum but you didn’t have the chance to even help him a little with the problem that you created.

“I didn’t get to make you cum, professor..” he smirked to your confession and his next words made your heart jump.

“Don’t worry, darling. You’ll have the chance next time if your grades become better.” he exclaimed as he walked you out of the classroom.

Next time.. Your wishes are finally fulfilled and you’ll make sure to get your grades up as you impatiently wait for that next time..

[g0ldenzinnie]

Unstoppable

Couple: Mark x fem!reader Genre: fluff; a little bit suggestive; a little dramatic, but who doesn't want a little drama Sinopse: At the end of a horrible day, your boyfriend makes a surprise just for you. DISCLAIMER: This is my first fic, and I hope it will be the first of many more. And also English it's my second language so have mercy on me. Word count: 5,6 k; I recommend listening to https://spotify.link/QPWm3Rr44Db while you read it <3

You had a bad day. No, sorry, a terrible day. 

First, you overslept. It wasn’t your fault your phone discharged over the night, because you connected the charger wrong. Your class started half an hour ago, but you were still in your apartment, trying to pull your pants up while brushing your teeth. When you got to campus, you were a sweating mess since you had to run to reach the bus. When you enter the classroom slamming the door accidentally, the teacher looked at you like you disrespect him in three languages, however he still continued. You sat down and opened your bag, then you realized you forgot your notebook at home, due to your late night studying and the reason for your oversleeping. That was the second thing that made your day into a nightmare, the final test. In a few minutes, you would have to face the test that would define your future as an engineer, further to top it all you forgot your notes at home. It didn't matter now, you just had to deal with it. You plug your phone under the desk, which for your luck every desk had a uni, and look at your missing messages. That is when you noticed the third thing that was making your day horrible. Your lock screen showed a happy blond boy playing the guitar, you smiled, having a nostalgic feeling in your chest. Mark lee, your boyfriend. You were barely together, since your different schedules and busy calendars. Besides, when you were together, you are so exhausted that you only watch movies on the couch and order takeout. It is not that you didn’t like it, it’s just that you missed having quality time with your boyfriend. You saw in your notifications three missed messages from Mark. 

“Good morning baby ❤️” “Good luck today I know you're gonna kill it” “I miss you ;c” 

You smile at the last messages, you feel comfort knowing that he missed you too. You respond. “Hey baby” “I miss you too bub, I just want to finish this test and see you”

You haven’t seen him in weeks. As you were focused on your career, Mark was focused on his. Now text messages were the only way of communicating. 

“I know princess, but I have rehearsal all day.” You let out a groan. One day they will kill him with so much work. 

“It’s okay baby, we can meet another time.” “Just be careful please.” “I don’t want you to pass out”

You responded, but you knew it was helpless. Even if the king himself from England order your boyfriend to stop overworking… he would probably apologize in a very polite matter and go against his order. You knew your golden boy wasn't unbreakable. Occasionally he would call you in the middle of the night just to hear your voice, and get the motivation that he needed. Despite that, he didn't complain a bit. Mark was the kind of person to torture himself, just to not let down the people that depend on him. Sadly, you were that kind of people. You needed to see his face, to hear his voice, you needed him.

“It’s like you don’t even know me baby” “I'm unstoppable”

He sends you a sticker of a bunny flexing his arms, and you laugh out loud. Your teacher sees you with a penetrating look and goes back to the board. Again, you look down over your phone, trying to respond.

“So you’re a superhero then?” “Or a super villain? Were you trying to steal my heart all this time?” “Is this your evil plan?”

 You replied, hoping it would make him laugh. You used to think that when he laughed, one of the most beautiful sounds in the world was produced. 

“A villain, never” “Actually, I am a superhero who is at your side in your time of need.” “I am Spider-Man 🕷️”

You smiled at the cuteness of your boy. You knew his obsession with Spider-man, actually on his birthday you made him a surprise party in his room and decorated it with that theme. He still considers it to be one of his favorite birthday parties. You didn’t have a chance to reply to him when another message came along. 

“I just wish I could use my power to come and see you. So then I could hug you, and give you a kiss.”

You feel the heat coming to your face as you blush. You replied instantly. 

“Just one?”

“Definitely more than one.” “And definitely not just in your lips” 

You let out a giggle, then drop your phone. Mark could be cheesy when he set his mind to it. Your attention to the class was gone long ago. 

“I'm losing focus Mark” “You’re gonna make me fail this class”

“Sorry baby” “But dude, seriously I really need you”“I miss our dates, not like watching movies and eat (which I love, don't get me wrong)” “But like real dates, you know? Like going out somewhere, or doing something else”

Your mode went down, owing to the text. You didn’t want him to feel like this. Some days you asked yourself if this is what torture fells like. 

“Me too baby, but we will see each other again, I know it.” “We just need more patience.” 

You were going to text him an “I love you”, when the fourth thing that made your day terrible happened. Your charger overloaded and stopped working, further your phone turned off seconds later. You put your head against the desk, feeling like a literal mess. The worst part is that when you looked up to see the clock, it was only 11:27 AM. 

After nine hours on campus, you were ready to go. The day transcurred as you predicted, horrid. The test was practically written in another language you didn’t study every night, in addition, your post anxiety didn’t help you to calm down. The only good thing that happened that day was that one of your classmates lent you their charger. When your phone started working, you found missed calls and messages from your boyfriend worried thinking something happened to you. You explained fast, leaving him with some relief. He told you to let him know when you were out on campus and as you promised, you texted him letting him know you were outside. While you wait for the bus in the freezing and dark night, he called you. 

“Hey baby” 

“Why are they keeping you in campus at this hour?” He said worried. You let out a sigh, tired. Not from him, but from this disgusting day. 

“My insufferable teacher, who didn't let us go before he could end the whole lesson. You should have seen it babe. I thought that literal vapor would come out of his ears when we told him we were supposed to go” You replied laughing, trying to ease your mind. But your boyfriend was doing it for you. Just by hearing his voice, you felt your body more relaxed. But you didn't hear a laugh in return. So you started to worry. Little did you knew that your golden boy's mind was working like a machine. 

“Where are you?” He asks, knowing the answer since he knew you, and your routine like the palm of his hand. 

“I’m at the bus stop, why?”  You respond, looking around at the emptiness of the street. You wait for his answer, yet instead you receive a hung up sound. He cut the call. You thought it was some connection issue, but he didn’t answer your calls, nor your texts. 

“Baby, what happened? Are you okay”“Babe”“Mark, I’m serious, what is going on?”“Dude, answer your phone.”

It passed two minutes after your last text when a black car made a turn in the corner of the street, coming in your direction. Since the street was silent, you could hear the loud music coming from inside. You let it pass, you thought it was a random car like other ones. It was when the car stopped in front of you and the window rolled down, when you realized it wasn’t random. Your vision showed your boyfriend seated in the backseat with a microphone in his hand. You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow, trying to act pissed since he didn’t answer your phone. Still inside of you, you were jumping out of happiness because he was there in front of you.

“Your hero to the rescue.” 

He said with the mic. You couldn't contain your smile, you wanted to hug him, however you didn't even have to take a step. He jumped out of the car and tucked you in, with his arms around your waist, resting his head in the crook of your neck. You wrapped your arms around his, feeling the tears coming to your eyes. You could feel his warmth and cologne, just the way you remembered. He took a step back and took your face gently. He looked at you with so much worship and caring, that you felt your heart melting in the process.

“My beautiful girl” He whispered before he kissed you with all his being. Desperate, but not rough. Full of love and adoration. You respond, enclosing your fingers in his hair. Everything in the world didn’t matter. What happened during the day was forgotten. He was finally there, kissing your lips, pulling you close, needed for your touch like you needed his. It was until the car honked as you returned to reality. Mark broke the kiss and nodded at the driver. He rush to take your hand and pulled you into the car. 

“Let's go, I have a whole date planned just for you.” You smile confused, stepping into the car and closing the door. 

“Baby, nothing is going to be open at this hour on a Monday.” You say, before noticing the things in the car. 

“Who said we were going somewhere?” You didn't know how, but there were disco lights illuminating the inside of the car. Also, your favorite snacks were in the middle seat. The driver who started moving the car couldn't be seen because of the wall separating the front and back of the car.

“Mark, what is this?” He just gives you the other mic and another kiss on your lips as you were distracted. His hand was in the nape of your neck, with his fingers wrapping your hair gently. Your breathing became heavier, pulling him close, grabbing the collar of his sweatshirt. He breaks the kiss and rest on your forehead. Smiling he responds.

“We are going to have a karaoke date. I need to practice my voice, you need to release stress. It's the perfect match.” He turns on the mic and takes out his phone to show you a playlist. You let out a gasp as your heart wrinkles. The playlist name was “For my Angel”, and it was full of your favorite songs. Even your favorite versions. “What do you say?” He asks with his mic, leaving a funny eco behind. You smile and turn on yours. 

“I say let's do this” You claim as you pressed play and a song of Olivia Rodrigo started to sound in the speakers. “Oh my god, babe, you know me so well” Shouting of excitement, you start to sing into the mic. Mark laughs and joins you, since one month ago when the album dropped, you made him learn the lyrics. You laugh, not believing this was happening. One moment ago, you thought you would declare this day to be the worst day of your life. However, the boy next to you, trying to sing in falsetto, made a 180-degree turn of it. 

Both of you didn't care about what you sounded like, you were just goofing around and singing like your souls were ripping apart. After thirty minutes of singing, rapping and dancing, you’re tired and ask Mark to sing a solo. Since he loved karaoke, and you, he agreed gladly. Even when his throat started to feel dry. That was one of the things you loved about Mark. He always put his soul into things. It didn’t matter what it was or how, he always put his 100%. You smile at him trying to hit a high note of one of Justin Bieber songs, and let out a laugh in the process. You take his hand and caress it with your thumb, he looks at you surprised and stops singing. “What's wrong?”

“I love you” You whispered, hypnotized in his eyes. He smiles and leans over, holding your chin, gently giving you a kiss. It was slow and gentle, his lips were soft against yours, and they were moving with synchrony. Like he knew you in and out, what you needed, indeed. He broke the kiss, leaving a centimeter between you two, while he takes a lock of your hair and puts it behind your ear.

“I love you too” He replied also in a whisper looking at your face carefully, like he wanted to remember every single freckle or other aspect of your face. As he hasn't done it already. He first looks at your lips, the temptation incarnate. Nothing was as distracting and beautiful as your lips, simply he loved that. Then he looks up to your cheeks and nose. He loved to kiss them, to him, they were the cutest thing on your face. Then finally, he looks at your eyes. His favorite thing on planet earth. He claimed that they were as beautiful and unique as the sky. He always told you those things, many times before. Still, he repeated them, to make sure you remember how beautiful you are. You let out a nervous laugh because of his piercing look and lean your head, confused.  

“What?” He shakes his head as if it’s something stupid. “Just… I missed you so much.” He says as leans over to give you a kiss on the forehead. “So much” 

You feel his warm breathing in your left cheek as he goes down to kiss it. Then he does the same with your other cheek, before making a final move, laying a kiss on the top of your nose. He was taking his time filling your face with love and affection, like it was the last thing he was able to do. “I swear, I just can’t get enough of you” He says in the corner of your lips to place another kiss. You smile and try to look away from the embarrassment. His hands went again to your chin to make you look at him. You look at his lips, feeling in the inside of your body the tension you two missed over the last days. His gaze of pure affection makes you feel warm in your chest and butterflies in your lower stomach. He stays inches away from your lips, waiting for your approval, but clearly to you, he didn’t need it. You bend closer to him, eliminating the space between you two, pressing your lips together. Your hand was on his cheek, passing your fingers against his hair, while the other one was on his chest. Mark grabs your waist with a firm grip, approaching you to him. The kiss was desperate, full of passion, nothing like the past ones. “Come here” He whispers raspy, breaking the kiss to take air as he pushes you to his lap. Chills come down your spine when you listen to his tone. You put your legs around his body, your hands in the back of his neck. This time, he starts the kiss by grabbing your hair with one hand and the other one still holding your waist. He was moving his lips slowly but with a hungry matter, helpless by your body on top of him. Your body feels hotter by every move of your boyfriend, full of emotions forgotten through your days apart. As a reaction to all of this, you left out a whimper against his lips, leaving him enough space for him to enter his tongue to your mouth. You move your waist a little to feel him more, instantly, Mark groans in your mouth as a reaction. “Don’t tease me baby, please” He whispers, lowering his mouth to get to your neck. He presses his lips against your soft and now hot skin with a wet kiss, biting a little to taunt you. You bite your lower lip trying to stay quiet, he knew your weak point. “Now who is teasing?” You say mocking him. He laughs, leaving a warm sight that gives you chills. Then goes back to your lips fervently, his hands moving past your body without any shame. Yours were in his neck, trying to pull him closer with the nonexistent distance you had. When his hands were going under your shirt, you heard a knock in the wall that separated the two parts of the car. You stop instantly, looking at Mark with panic in your eyes. Reality hits you like cold water, you weren’t alone. Obviously, you forgot that. 

“What?” Your boyfriend asked, pissed because your moment was interrupted. “Mister Lee, you have five minutes. Then we have to go back to the company.” Mark cusses underneath his breath and closes his eyes. Now you understand why he was acting like he didn’t have enough time. He actually didn’t have it. “Okay, just… just keep driving, please.” He says, in conflict with himself, grabbing his temple. The car moved with the same speed as before. “I’m sorry I didn't tell you.” He says without looking at you with embarrassment. “They just gave me an hour recess, the members stayed at the company but I just… I just really wanted to see you” You were pissed, but not at him. You were mad at the universe, for tearing both apart. For the unfair situation. But you were not going to spend the last five minutes with your boyfriend for god knows how long, making a fuss. So you grab his chin to make him look at you. His gaze was angry, as also sad. The same feelings you had. You lean your forehead against his and close your eyes, sensing his skin with all your faculties. “It's okay. It doesn’t matter now.” His breathing got heavier as he shook his head. You also knew him like the palm of your hand. You knew his anxiety of the future was caving in. His mind having all the questions both of you didn’t have an answer. “Hey, focus on me.” You say, leaning a hand in his chest, the other one still in his head. You breathe calmly, trying for him to follow you. It’s difficult, but he does it with time. Then you start talking.

 “I love you. Nothing matters. That’s the only thing you need to think about now. Okay?” He doesn’t do anything, still with his eyes closed trying to keep his breath under control, you fear he is going to have a panic attack. After a while, he nods. You smile and give him a quick kiss. “You’re unstoppable.” He smiles remembering his text and opens his eyes, finally looking at you. “We are” he states, looking at you directly, with a gaze you think is full of starlight. You feel tears in your throat, but you swallow them. You don’t want to cry now. “That’s my golden boy” You gave him another kiss, this time longer but sweet. He stays still for a second, then wraps his arms around your body in a hug, breathing hard for the strong emotions inside him. If he had the power, he would steal you right now, and hide you where no one or nothing could stop him from loving you, over and over. You separate and rest on his forehead. He caressed your nose with his, then lefts a giggle out of his mouth. 

“How about one more song?” You say, grabbing his phone to look for one specific thing. He leans his head confused and tries to take a look, but you move away from his gaze. “C’mon, babe, let me see.” He says sulky, you laugh and shake your head. “You’ll see. Just wait a mo - oh, there it is.” You press play and the intro of Locked out of heaven from Bruno Mars starts to play. Mark leans his head back and screams. “Yo! Babe, that's my song!” You smile and start to get out of his lap, however, he pulls you back, holding your waist. “Where are you going? Sing with me.” He grabs the mic and starts to sing the first line, before leaning the mic to you to sing the second. You follow his dynamic with a goofy smile and start to sing, moving your head. When the song hits the chorus, the two of you sing in the same mic, enjoying yourselves totally. Screaming the lyrics to each other because you felt like you were locked out of heaven because of each other. As your love felt wrong and incorrect, clearly the world practically was keeping you apart, it felt so good. Like two angels intertwined on a mission to find and love one another. The bridge was coming along and Mark made a howling sound to the ceiling, you laughed and followed him, feeling more alive than ever. “Are you ready baby?” He asks, moving his head to the rhythm. You nod, smiling at him, watching how his excitement was filling his body. “Okay, let’s go!” He shouts before singing the bridge with you. You feel like all the happiness in the world was headed your way. Closing your eyes, singing your heart out with the man you loved. You look at him just when you both sang, “Can I just stay here?! Spend the rest of my days here?!” You observed how the veins of his neck were pumping out since he sang so loudly. His eyes closed, shrinking, trying to hit the right note. You smile, watching your boyfriend be happy before he goes. He then looks at you and locks his gaze with yours, holding your hand tight while the other still held the mic. Basically, the only thing that was separating your lips. Then he presses his forehead against yours to feel closer to you. “Can I just stay here?! Spend the rest of my days here?! Cause you make me feel like, I’ve looked out of heaven” You both sing to the mic, smiling and actually begging to god or whatever is up there, to let you stay with each other. You feel the tears coming to your eyes because this moment was about to end. You could barely sing anymore, so you stop and put your hand against your face. Mark drops the mic, letting the last part of the song go, to hold the back of your head and let you rest in his shoulder. You let yourself go and cry without any shame. Your boyfriend feels the tears coming as well, however he didn’t drop any of them. His concentration was fully into you. He kept stroking your hair and kissing your cheek repeatedly. With your fingers, you start to hold strongly to his sleeves. Believing, he wouldn't go away for that, unfortunately you and him didn't control that. 

The car stopped, and you started shaking your head, knowing what's coming next. “Baby” Marks whispers in your ear, fondling the back of your head with one hand and the other one on your waist. “Just one second” You instantly responded, holding him close without looking at him. You thought that if you did, your heart would break more than it already is. “Baby please, I need to-” “Just, just give a moment” Another knock from the wall came. “Mister Lee, we’re outside the company. You need to get out of the car” Mark was really trying to hold himself together at this point. “Give me one minute, please” He says with his jaw clenched, trying not to break something. “Y/n, please look at me. I’m not gonna forgive myself if you don't” He begs you, raising his hand to your cheek to separate you from his shoulder. You do, but you still look down sobbing, while looking at his chest. The heart of your boyfriend was broken by seeing you like this. He pressed his cheeks against yours, attempting to form a connection with you. He needed you to look at him, one last time. “Please y/n. Look at me” By his implore, you raise your gaze and meet his dark eyes. You instantly broke and Mark does it with you. “When you’ll be back?” You ask, wiping his tears away. He does the same with you, his lips forming a line. “I don't know. I have to stay at the dorm for the promotion, and then they want to do another comeback with dream.” You cursed and look at the ceiling, trying to stop your crying. “Hey, hey, no, no. We won't say goodbye like this.” He says, holding your head with his hands on your cheeks, making you look down. You close your eyes and cup his hand. “I don't want to say goodbye.” You whisper, finally opening your eyes. The man in front of you was tired. Of his schedule, his tireless work, and most importantly tired of being apart from you. A strong kiss closed the distance between both, and his breathing left strong through his nose. The kiss felt wet and salty because of your tears. Your hands were on the side of his head, pushing him to you. Mark deepened the kiss and you followed him gladly.  Both of you didn't want to separate, but sadly, breathing was necessary for you. When you broke the kiss, Mark says in your lips after. “Sorry, I said it wrong.” You look at him confused, as a response he gives you a quick kiss before saying. “It's a see you soon”.

The tears were appearing again, but he focused on kissing you. His hands were hugging your back, pulling you closer together. Your lips were in synchrony, however, they were interrupted by a knock on the window. “Dude, I say a minute please” Marks says against your lips trying to continue, suddenly the door open and shown your boyfriend's teammate, Johnny. “Hey y/n.” He says flirty, leaning his body to the door of the car. You feel the blood rising to your checks, and try to hide it in the neck of your boyfriend. “Hi” you say, still there. “Johnny, what are you doing here?” Mark ask, putting his hand in your hair to caress it. A laugh comes from the best friend of your boyfriend. “Taeyong is calling us to the practice room.” You also hear a pause, like he's taking it time to say what's next. “Sorry man, but we have to go. Now” You know he means it. Johnny was one of the first to support your relationship. He wanted to see Mark happy, same as you. So you thank him silently when he closed the door after he said. “You have 30 seconds to do whatever you please. But dude, I'm serious, 30 seconds.” Mark nods and sighs. You feel Jonny walking away a little, to give you space, and Mark started talking. “We don't have much time.” “I know” You answer, leaving his lap for good. He lets out a groan of disapproval, but you better step off now. You both stay quiet for a few seconds, just looking at each other, feeling each other hands. It was you who started the conversation. “What I told you before, it wasn't a lie” He settles to the side to see you better. “I know, but I can’t stop thinking about the damage that this is causing.” You get close and took his face. “Better to be like this together, than being apart” He analyzed you, trying to see any regret on your face, nevertheless, he didn’t find anything. “Unstoppable, remember?” You state, smiling, Mark gives you a little laugh and nod with his head. He leans closer to your face and kiss you gently, pulling a piece of your hair behind your ear. After you separate, you rest in his shoulder, with Mark leaving kisses in your forehead. “I love you” he whispers, caressing your arm with his fingertips, giving you chills in the process. “I love you too” you respond, giving him a kiss in the shoulder. He holds you close by wrapping his arms around you and placing his head on top of yours. You stay like that for a while.

After a few seconds, you hear a knock on the window. “Dude, I can’t extend this any longer.” Mark sighs and separates from you. Jonny leans against the car to wait for him. “See you soon?” Mark says, putting his hand against your check. “Yeah” you whisper before kissing him. The door opens and Johnny pulls Mark by the sleeve outside the car. “Let's go Romeo” He says, pushing him to the doors of the company. He almost trips by his best friend strength, but manage to stay on his feet. He turns and waves at you, walking backwards before entering the company. Your heart breaks by every step he took, and you let the tears that remain in your system fall in your face. “I had to take him out, if I didn't, he would probably run away with you.” Johnny states gently. You sniff and nod. “We don’t want that” You say looking at him, the expression he gave you was comprehensive. He shakes his head softly. “No, we don’t” What's best for Mark, apart from knowing him, that was the reason Johnny and you were friends. “The car is gonna drop you at home, so just try to relax. Okay?” He tells you, placing his arm against the door frame. You nod and try to wipe your tears and smile. “Take care of him for me, would you?” He laughs and nods. “It won’t be long, you know? It’s just because you love each other so much, that you think it is going to be an eternity before you see each other.” You giggle and sigh, resting your back on the seat. You suddenly felt tired. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” You respond, closing your eyes in the process. Johnny reads your body and leaves a small smile. “Have a safe travel, y/n” He says before closing the door. Yet before he closed the door you say “Thank you, Johnny, for everything.” You didn't see him, but he smiles at you with carrying and closes the door. After you hear two knocks on the roof of the car, this started moving. Your body felt palled after all those emotions, and you started to get sleepy. Before your whole system could go to the lands of dreams, you remember the words of Johnny. With a smile on your face, you start to feel hope. Believing truly that it won't be long before you see your golden boy again.

3 weeks later. 

Your legs were heavier than ever trying to climb the stairs of your building. Since you were on vacation, you decided to have a job full time in the cafeteria a few blocks away. Obviously now, you were regretting your decision. But hey, at least the money is always good. When you reach your floor, you feel relieve. At least, it was Friday. So you would have the whole weekend to relax. Sadly, you would have to do that alone. Mark was still busy with his calendar, however, he called every night to check on you. So you didn’t felt so sad about his absence.  When you get to your door, you open your bag pack to find your keys. The panic started to rise when you didn't find them there. You also opened the front pocket but again nothing. You curse and kick the door, angry. Now you had to look for the locksmith downstairs, which meant you had to experience the pain of your legs all over again. Just because you forgot your keys inside, when you left the apartment in the morning. When you started to walk away, preparing yourself for torture, you feel the door open. You turn scared believing it was a ghost, however the surprise came in when you see your boyfriend, leaning in the door frame holding your keys with his finger. “Your hero to the rescue, again.” He says with the raspy voice you missed. You gasp, covering your mouth in surprise. Your brain couldn’t load the information that was happening. “Dude, you're kidding” You say, still with your hand on your mouth. He smiles at how cute your reaction is. “I'm not.” In a quick movement, he takes your arm to pull you to him and give you a passionate kiss. His lips moving, with hunger and desire. Your tiredness and lack of motivation stop from existing. Your backpack drops from your shoulder but Mark grabs it quickly with one hand. The other one was reaching down your lower back, pulling you closer to feel him more. He breaks the kiss to go lower to your neck. You bit your lip to not let any embarrassed sound come out, since you were still in the hallway. “Inside now” You whisper with need in his ear. He grins against your neck and pulls you to the apartment to not waste any more time to love you. 

[howellatme-writes]

Tomb Buster

Steven Grant x gn!reader, hints of Marc Spector gn!reader

Summary:

You returned from a trip abroad and are trying to get the spare key back to the apartment from Steven. However, you are unable to catch either of the boys due to their busy schedule, and you start to wonder if they are ignoring you.

Themes and warnings: Neighbors, Neighbors to lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hints of abuse, not beta-read, no use of y/n, gender-neutral reader (If I missed any warnings pls, let me know, and I'll add!)

Made for Moon Knight-cember Day 17/18: Rainy Day and/or VHS tape

Word Count: 3.4k

Author's Notes: First fic on my new writer's blog! I probably won't post very often, but I thought it would be nice to have a spot for my fics on Tumblr! Also, the first time I tried to specifically stay gender neutral with the reader, if I missed any pronouns, feel free to let me know!

It had been a few days since you returned from the trip abroad, and you still couldn’t catch Steven to get the spare key back to your apartment. His schedule was often the opposite of yours, and every time, you just continued to miss each other by mere minutes to and from the system’s various jobs. The responses to your texts to meet up the past few days were from Marc. They were short and avoidant, unlike the flirty, flowery texts Steven would send you featuring selfies with the plants he had watered for that day. 

One night, Steven initiated a late-night video chat, trying to cheer you up after a difficult night with your parents and co-workers. Then you realized the neighbor across the hall might have liked you more than you thought. His tired smile while he lay in bed at 2 in the morning, the freshly showered curls he brushed out of his face while he consoled you and let you vent about your issues made you realize you liked him back just as much. He told you about his boss, Donna, while you told him about your equally horrible boss while you’re stationed across the pond for work. Towards the end of your trip, you were starting to miss your home away from home more than you enjoyed being in your hometown, and it desperately showed in another Facetime call.

Marc started fronting the last few nights before you flew home, and the conversations were short. There were no selfies with your plants. He would just text, “Watering is done.” or “This cat’s shits are the worst thing I ever smelled.” Steven didn’t front as much, but his presence was still there. He even added googly eyes to the potted plants just to make you smile and laugh. Marc had sent you a phone with the caption, “I guess Steven snuck in when I thought I was asleep.” By the time you boarded your flight back to London, you were yearning to talk to Steven again, but it didn’t seem like you had that connection with Mark.

It was a rainy day, and you had just taken some of your propagated spider plants and potted them in some small terracotta pots when you checked your phone once again to see when you could meet up with Steven or Marc to get your spare key back. Nothing. You sat on the couch, placed the little spider plants on the coffee table, and leaned your elbows on your knees, your hand holding your chin as you huffed out a sigh, looking aimlessly around your apartment. If they weren’t interested, they would at least give you your key back, right? Hell, even just slide it under your door and never speak to you again. That was an option, too, right? Why are the boys stalling?

You reached to the sheet of googly eyes left by Steven and placed two eyes on each side of the plants’ pots. You couldn’t help but chuckle, and you decided to take it to the next level by reaching to grab a Sharpie to draw mouths to accompany each pair of eyes. On one side of the pot, a sad face with a tear, the other a smiley face. You did that with two of the pots, turning the sad faces towards you. You study them and pull out your phone, taking a picture of the tragic little spider plants, turn the pots, and repeat with the other side. Feeling mischievous and opening the texts, scrolling down to find their number, you attach the picture of the sad pots with the caption: “The plants miss you.” and hit send, waiting for his reaction.

After a few hours of sound sleep, you gradually become aware of a faint buzzing sound. As you start to stir and open your eyes, you realize your phone is on the table next to you, vibrating with incoming messages. You stretch your arms and legs, feeling your cat's weight on your chest and the warmth of its fur against your skin. Slowly, you sit up on the couch, blinking and yawning before picking up your phone. You squint at the screen, adjusting to the brightness, and see that two new texts are waiting for you. Your heart skips a beat as you realize they're from Steven, the person you've been waiting to hear back from. As you unlock your phone, your cat moves to the opposite end of the couch and curls up, seemingly undisturbed by your sudden movement.

“We should turn those plants' frowns upside down! -S” sent the text at 6:00 pm.

“???”- Was the last text sent at 9:00 pm.

The clock on the wall showed 9:52 PM, and you let out a deep sigh. You walked up to the window and glanced outside, only to see that it was pitch black and raining heavily. You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment, as you knew that you had probably missed meeting up with the boys again. You knew that Marc often picked up late-night shifts, but he never told you what he did.

With a tiny sliver of hope, you slide your phone into your pocket and pick up the two plants you had meant to give Steven. You stepped into some comfy slippers, went to his apartment across the hall, and knocked on the door, hoping he was home.

“Just a moment!” Steven calls, and you smile, feeling your heart start to race. After weeks of texting back and forth, you finally get to see him in person. After hearing several locks hurriedly being undone, Steven swings the door open to greet you, “Evenin’ Looking to get your spare key back?” breathing heavily, messy, damp curls in his face with an awkward smile and wrinkled brow. “Oh, you brought plants over?” he looked down at the two small plants with sad faces facing him.

“To be fair, they missed you. Look at them!” You try and smile. “I thought you might like them. A little extra thank you for caring for my cat and plants..”

“Oh. Oh! Thank you!” Steven said wide-eyed, “You can come on in if you like. I think Marc left your key by the fridge.” he gestured, letting you inside.

You step inside and kick your slippers off, looking around in awe at the sheer number of books. You could tell he had a lot of books from the video chats, but the amount of books covering the bookcases and every surface in his flat was beyond your imagination, “Wow… you have your books, I have my plants.” ​​

“I’m not bothering you boys or anything, am I?” you ask distantly. Despite the clutter, the flat just had this cozy feel, like you’d want to sit on a couch and curl up with Steven, blankets, tea, and a book.

“Ahhh yeah. Usually, I do a lot of reading when I can’t sleep.” Steven confessed sheepishly, rubbing his neck, “Would you like a cuppa or anything?” He asked from his tiny kitchen, already grabbing two cups from the cupboard.

“Yeah, sure,” you say, studying the makeshift furniture before you. A wooden top balancing upon half an end table and a sawhorse, with a small desk lamp on the left side, formed the kitchen table. Papers, maps, dirty dishes, and a magnifying glass lay on the table with other small tchotchkes. You walked past it to take in the rest of Marc and Steven’s flat, realizing it probably wasn’t the safest, sturdiest place for his first two plants.

“No. No!” Steven said quickly, “Not sure what Marc was doing before, but judging from the wet hair, probably a shower or somethin’.” Steven suggested offhandly as he put the kettle on.

Steven comes after you and grabs the plants from you, not noticing the hat or gloves. “Sorry about the mess. I’d blame Marc, but he’s always nagging at me to clean. Just never thought we’d have company.” He scurries around as if trying to find a spot to put them. Eventually, he settles, puts the plants on a small coffee table, and rushes to clear the couch of cardboard boxes before gesturing for you to sit down.

You walk further into the flat to see his desk against the skylight. It was still just as cluttered as the makeshift table, but at least the desk didn’t look like it would break with adding a plant or two, but space would have to be made for them. You shuffled around, and your foot bumped into something wet, a newsboy hat and leather gloves tucked under the desk, presumably damp from the rain.

You sit down on the worn leather couch and smile at him, moving one of the open boxes into your lap, just happy he was shifting all this stuff around to make space for you in the apartment, “It’s no problem, really. I was the one that just knocked on your door, no warning.”

“To be fair, Marc should’ve spent the last little bit sorting the place out instead of doing whatever he was doin'. Taking a shower, maybe; everything feels a little damp’,” Steven murmured as he sat on the couch. “ I-I was hoping you would come over, though,” he said, interlocking his own fingers together, not sure what to do with them, before just setting them down on his thighs.

“It’s fine. Really.” you try to reassure Steven, scooting closer to him on the couch, holding the box to your chest. “My apartment was totally deep-cleaned before I left. It’s usually not that clean, a little more cluttered.”

“Oh, yeah? Feel a bit better ‘bout this then.” Steven gestured to his organized chaos of the hastily moved boxes around the both of you.

You move a bit closer to him again under the guise of setting the box by your feet, “How was the flight? Still got any jet lag?” he quietly asks as you set the box down, and a well-worn VHS cover catches your eye, not even recognizing he was trying to make small talk.

You lean forward and pick the VHS up, “What's this relic of the past doing here?” I flip it over and read the title out loud, trying to tease him light-heartedly. “Tomb Buster? Huh. What sort of Off-brand Indiana Jones, B- movie, is this?” you chuckle, holding it up to Steven to show him without looking at the cover.

Steven froze like you had just found something extremely private and personal. “Well…uh-um-” his mouth open and shut, repeatedly struggling to find the words to say. Your brow furrows in confusion, wondering why the movie created such a reaction. He looks at his reflection on the TV in shock.

You turn the VHS tape around and look at the cover more closely. Moving your thumb, you  quietly read the wording at the bottom of the VHS tape, “When danger is near, Steven Grant has no fear?”

Steven darted nervously from the TV fearfully back to you, and he gulped audibly, speaking in a bit of a shaky voice “It’s one of Marc’s all-time favorite movies as a kid. It’s important to him, and he says he’s offended you called it ‘off-brand Indiana Jones.’”

“Oh.” You look back at the TV but don’t see what Steven sees. You spy the VHS player next to the Blu-ray, both covered in a thin layer of dust. “Have you ever seen it?” you ponder curiously.

Steven heaves a heavy sigh and takes the VHS tape from your hands, his warm fingers lingering on top of your own before placing the tape aside, “No. I haven’t.” he confessed quietly, looking up at you with sorrowful eyes. “Don’t think I’ll live up to my namesake.”

“Steven?” your hands reach out to grasp his again, feeling them tremble slightly. You rub the back of his hands with your thumbs, hoping to ease his anxiety.

“I’m not- I’m just something that Marc made up,” he whispered, ashamed, looking down at the VHS tape, “I found out when I saw- the movie poster one day. In his childhood bedroom.” He seemed to zone out for a moment, but when the kettle started whistling, it was like he had jumped out of his skin. He got up without a word, walking quickly to the stove as if thankful for the out in the conversation.

Steven sniffed as he grabbed a tin of tea bags from the cupboard trying to change the subject, “English Breakfast? Chamomile? I have lots. Take your pic.”

You felt awful as you stared down at the VHS tape. Dr. Steven Grant looked back at you as if judging you harshly. The plants' faces that felt comical mimicked the sadness of the heavy topic in the air. It never crossed your mind to ask who was the original and who was the alter. Part of you assumed it was Steven because you saw him the most between the two boys.

You slowly get up from the couch, follow him into the kitchen, and boldly wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him from behind. Steven freezes again, avoiding your gaze, “Chai. I don’t care which one of you is original.” you murmur, resting your head against his shoulder as he slowly prepares his tea. You sighed, your breath on his neck making his hair stand on end, your lips almost brushing against his neck. “Our texts, the late-night Facetime, they were real, right? I always looked forward to your texts. There was something real between us, right?”

Steven nodded as he reached out to pick up the chai tea packet and tore it open. He then dunked the tea bag into the water for you. You tried to catch his gaze as you leaned against the counter to gauge his reaction. He seemed lost in thought, rocking against the countertop and staring straight into space. Finally, he looked at you and began pouring out his emotions. "But I'm not real!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking. "How could you be happy with us? Marc said you'd be daft to care about someone as bonkers as us. He doesn't know why I told you about us in the first place. He thinks we should keep our distance..."

“Steven! Marc!” you exclaim, trying to break his downward spiral, physically turning him into you, your hands grabbing his arms, almost wanting to shake some sense into him “I don’t care! I do care! I mean-”

His lips crash on yours, and before you know it, your hands find his curls, still a little wet from earlier, and he’s leaning against you, his hands on either side of you on the counter. As your cheeks touch, you can feel the tears that spilled down his, dampening your own. As you feel him suck your lower lip, he moves his hands to your hips. After a second, he pulls back, his face tinted with blush, apologizing profusely, “Sorry-I-shouldn’t have- I never- Not like this-”

“It’s okay. It’s more than okay.” I smile, caressing his cheek before kissing him again softly, trying to convey how much you care while your lips move against his.

“We should have a sit-down, yeah?” Steven asked quietly after a minute. You grabbed your mugs and moved back to the couch to sit. Steven takes a bit sip of his tea before setting it down on the coffee table. “I didn’t realize I was created to help Marc until very recently-” he began, and you reached out and rested your hand over his. “The way I found out wasn’t ideal. It was actually pretty traumatic.” He looked over at his reflection on the TV, pausing the conversation as your heart raced.

“Is Marc saying something?” you question

“It’s like we can see and hear each other in reflections sometimes. I don’t know how it works, but it does.” Steven comments, still looking at the black TV screen, before turning to meet your gaze again, “You know we have D.I.D, but I never told you why-”

“Oh Steven, it’s okay, I don’t need to…,” you try to say, squeezing his hand as you set my mug of tea down by the VHS tape. Steven’s guard came down with a small sigh of relief. “Steven, you or Marc can tell me when you’re ready. It doesn’t need to be tonight. We can just hang out or something.”

“Thank you.” Steven smiled earnestly. He looked back down at Tomb Busters and grabbed the tape, “Marc says we need to watch this ‘cinematic masterpiece’ before we trash talk it.” 

He looked at the back of the VHS, reading the synopsis. “Here, you’ll find archaeologist Grant up to his neck in danger and -spiders- up to his kneecaps in crawling arachnids. Steven hates spiders!!” he hums and nods in agreement. “He hates Nazis, too, and he’ll stop at nothing to keep those goose-stepping goons from obtaining the mystical statue of Coyolxauhqui.”

“Sounds like Indiana, but he hates snakes.”

It takes a minute to set it up, but Tomb Buster is playing on the TV as you snuggle into Steven under a blanket. It was almost like Marc and Steven were watching the movie with you. Steven repeated Marc’s commentary as the film went on, and much to your enjoyment, Marc even confessed that the movie was indeed a lot cheesier now that he was watching it as an adult. You were surprised Marc didn’t front to watch it himself, but it seemed like he wanted Steven to have some sort of positive experience with his namesake on the tv.

It was easy to pick up on some of the mannerisms that belonged to both the Steven on screen, and the Steven that gradually shifted to holding you as the movie continued. You would give his hand a slight squeeze or kiss his cheek when something was recognized, hoping it wasn’t too much of a challenging experience to see Marc’s muse for Steven on screen, but if it was, he never lot on. The movie concluded with a hint of a sequel, but after a quick internet search, you find the sequel never made it past the writer’s room.

“Float like a butterfly, sting like a Bee. My name is Steven with a V.” Steven sighed, disappointed when the movie finished. “I thought I came up with that.”

“When did you say that?” you ask, looking up at him.

“A while ago.” he spoke, gazing at you tenderly, “Watching Dr. Grant was odd, but it wasn’t as weird as I thought it would be. Thank you for watching it with us.”

You smile at him and sit up, glancing at the clock on your phone. It was nearly midnight. “Do you have work in the morning?” I asked quietly

Steven shrugs it off, “Yeah, but I don’t sleep much, remember? I’d Facetime you until 2 am at least.”

“I remember. Seeing you lay in bed, I couldn’t help but think your chest would make a good pillow.” you admit, feeling your cheeks heat up at the confession, “and I was right.”

Steven's face flushed with a tinge of pink as he leaned forward and whispered in your ear, his lips brushing against your skin. "Can I kiss you again?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest. You nodded, leaning towards him, but he suddenly shifted his position, reaching for the spider plants nearby and hiding their googly-eyed expressions. "Don't need the spider plants watching us, do we?" he quipped, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You couldn't help but laugh at his comment, burying your head in his neck before your lips met again in another slow, passionate kiss. Steven seemed a little unsure of what to do with his hands, but he eventually rested them on your hips, his fingers trailing up and down your sides in a soft caress.

As you leaned your head against Steven's, you whispered breathlessly, "Maybe I don't need that spare key back after all."

You could feel his chest rumble with a soft chuckle as he responded, "Nah." He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as your lips met once more, the world around you fading away as Steven held you in a sweet embrace.

[nightfury-2001]

Okay so. Self-indulgent HTTYD fanfic idea!!! (+ General stuff about main AU

Can't get this out of my head so I'm putting this out there even though I'm not sure I'll ever write a single chapter for this lol

To start off - I imagine this story would feature almost exclusively OCs and have basically nothing to do with canon characters until possibly waaaaay later into the story or like, a sequel if I got that far. It also would take place in my version of the HTTYD universe/my main AU, so certain major events happened differently or never happened at all, various minor details may be changed or ignored entirely, a couple of dragon species may be redesigned if they appear at all, etc..

Really what I'm trying to say is this fic wouldn't be something very many people would be interested in and I'm totally okay with that lol.

Anyway, with that out of the way let's get into what it would actually be about:

After what was supposed to be an easy job goes horribly wrong, a young dragon trapper has an experience that challenges her beliefs and causes her to question if she really wants to continue in her parent's footsteps.

(She stares at the beast. At first glance, it is so very different. But is it truly that different after all?)

As you probably guessed from that simple summary or whatever you'd call it, the fic would be about a young dragon trapper/hunter questioning what she's been taught all her life about dragons after one saves her, and the friendship that slowly forms between her and that dragon. (And yes I imagine the dragon is a Northern Night Fury* because this would be written by me, were you expecting anything different lmaoo)

I realize it could perhaps be a bit too similar to HTTYD 1.....what can I say, it's my favorite movie and I really love it and its themes - but really I do feel like the story/characters I'm imagining are different enough to not have it feel like a cheap knockoff.

But anyway! A couple of details and things I've come up with so far because I have more than just the main idea(s):

- The fic would begin a little after the events of HTTYD 2 - which I imagine HTTYD 2 happened mostly the same as in canon, but I'm seriously debating having Hiccup be the chief/stay the chief in my main AU. Not to go off on a bit of an unrelated tangent but honestly, I'm one of the people that thinks he's just not that well suited for the role. And like yeah, I get the whole parallel - Hiccup becomes the leader of the humans of Berk like how Toothless becomes the leader of the dragons of Berk - but I'm just saying even some of the people who worked on the film thought Astrid should be chief lol

- Anyway so I imagine the young dragon trapper's parents (and their parent's crew) are skilled and pretty well respected dragon trappers/hunters that worked for/supplied dragons to Drago in the past, but since his defeat they've been kinda struggling to find a new employer(s) and have had to travel to unfamiliar areas to find unprotected wild dragons.

- That's how the young dragon trapper ends up in the situation™. She's out helping a small group of older and more experienced trappers with what sounded like an easy job, but due to them getting a bit too cocky on an unfamiliar island they end up getting ambushed by a powerful and territorial dragon. It goes about as well as you would expect it would and our young dragon trapper is certain she's about to die just like the others until! The chonk swoops in and scares off the other dragon!

- Existential crisis time because she just got saved by a dragon.

Other things:

- By "young" I mean around 19-20 or so and not like, a literal child - I imagine the chonk is also around the same age lol

- Also in my AU, while some dragon species are more comparable to parrots/cetaceans/etc., most species could be considered sapient in a human sort of way even if they don't necessarily have literal human-level intelligence in all areas. There's even a couple of species, such as Furies, that I imagine have actual human-level intelligence - they just don't act like humans since they're giant reptiles/reptile-like creatures and don't process the world in the exact same way as humans do and have evolved to have different instincts, etc.

- Soooo because of that I think the idea of occasionally having a chapter from the POV of the chonk would be fun. Even if it's only a chapter or two I could explore the idea of why she decided to save the human (could be really interesting I think, especially if the chonk knew/understood she was a dragon trapper/hunter and chose to save her anyway).

This is really long and I've been working on this post for hours and um yeah. Enjoy I guess?

(*Northern Night Furies are a fan species made by me, basically they're big chonky seal inspired Furies that live in very cold environments. They're usually very friendly and curious creatures.)

[karatekels]

TIGmas Day #2 - Saturnalia

This fic is for @cortmac1989, who has asked for Valek romancing Reader at a Christmas masquerade! I’ve taken a bit of liberty with the request to stretch it out a bit longer – hope you don’t mind and that you all enjoy!

TW: Stalking; Voyeurism; Blood-drinking (due to vampirism); confession under duress (mesmerization); dark, rough sex; References to violence and murder; Gratuitously going against the lore (or lack thereof) of vampirism from the book/movie to fit my own agenda

---

Saturnalia

---

Valek’s POV:

He takes care to press down with every step, ensuring that a footprint is left behind in the snow. It was important to never give the humans a reason to suspect he was anything more.

Jan Valek had always embraced the winter months; the loss of hours of sunlight giving him the opportunity to surround himself with people going about their lives as usual beneath the blanket of darkness. Christmas was quickly approaching, and Valek always found himself wistfully thinking back to his human life at this time of year. His family, their traditions, all long dead… watching people all around him, bright and alive and happily thinking of their loved ones could make him feel either moved or horribly depressed.

Tonight it has him feeling empty.

He makes to leave, to return home and to his lonely, meaningless existence, when something suddenly catches his attention: an intoxicating scent on the wind that washes away all traces of his melancholia.

Curious and almost unable to help himself, he tracks the scent. He knows that the aroma belongs to a human, but he can’t remember the last time he was so tempted by the bloodlust, feeling his canines start to lengthen and sharpen as his mouth waters. He pauses in his search of the source of the appealing scent, getting himself under control – he was able to relatively blend in with the humans when his vampiric instincts lay dormant, his features only revealing their true form when he was making use of his abilities to fight or feed. There would be time for that, once he had isolated the victim…

Nicking his tongue on a still-sharpened fang, he lets his own vampiric blood flow into his mouth, helping to distract him from the scent until he is able to continue his pursuit. Eventually, he comes across a small group of people bundled up for the weather and chatting amongst themselves. One woman, the source of his temptation, stands slightly apart from the crowd, watching the others talk with a slight smile rather than participating in the conversation.

“Everyone is coming on Friday night! No excuses!” one woman’s voice drowns out the others, resulting in a cacophony of whoops and groans from the others.

“Do we have to wear a mask?” someone complains, murmurs of agreement echoing him. “Halloween was months ago!”

“Yes!” the woman insists. “It’s going to be a fancy Winter Solstice masquerade, and you’re all cooperating. We haven’t all gotten together in years, and this will be fun!”

“Your version of ‘fun’ is very different from the rest of ours, Roberta,” another person chimes in, and the woman, Roberta apparently, scowls at the group.

“We will have my family’s manor to ourselves, with full access to their liquor cabinet. Am I really asking for so much here?”

A hush falls over the group for a brief moment.

“Masquerade ball it is!”

“Great idea, Roberta!”

“Can’t wait for Friday!”

Roberta smirks, pleased that the group has been won over, but Valek finds his gaze drawn to you, the wallflower, as you roll your eyes at your friends.

“Hey, how did you get Y/N to agree to come? There’s no way alcohol would be enough to win her over!” someone asks with a laugh, and you jump as you become the new topic of conversation. Roberta throws a friendly arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer.

“She’s staying with me while she’s here; she has to!” the woman announces smugly, and you give a bashful, reluctant smile.

“Plus, she described it to me like a Saturnalia celebration, so I’ll just hide in the corner and observe from a safe distance,” you add, your smile fading as no one recognizes the word or asks about it. Valek himself is surprised that you’ve mentioned the ancient Roman festival – it has no current cultural relevance that he’s aware of.

“Ugh! No nerd stuff, please!” someone chides you, and you scowl. “You’re supposed to be taking a break from all that, Y/N!”

“And you will not be hiding in a corner during my party!” Roberta insists. “Hopefully you and Michael will hit it off before then so that he can help you have some fun!” she winks roguishly at you, and Valek hears your heartbeat speed up as you blush.

“You’re going out with Michael?” someone asks excitedly, and the other women in the group burst into giggles.

“Roberta–” you hiss at her, yanking yourself out of her grip. “I’m not talking about this. I’ll see the rest of you on Friday!” you snarl, stomping off down the snow-covered street, clearly upset.

Valek ghosts after you, staying in the shadows. Perhaps the opportunity to feed will present itself to him – he wants to savour you, just the once, and if he wasn’t rushed at the thought of being discovered, there was less chance for an… accident.

“Y/N, wait up!” Roberta calls, jogging to catch up with you. You reluctantly stop to wait for her, tapping your foot impatiently. Valek takes the opportunity to move to the other side of the hedges that line the sidewalk you were on, allowing him to eavesdrop and watch you through the snow-covered pines without being spotted himself.

“I can’t believe you,” you grumble as she approaches, and from what he can see, the woman has the grace to look abashed.

“I’m sorry, okay? I wasn’t thinking,” she says, and you two set off down the path together.

“Why are you insistent that I go out with him while I’m here?” you ask quietly after a minute or two of walking in silence, and your friend peeks over at you, concern in her eyes.

“I just… I worry that you’re alone, Y/N,” she admits. “Your parents have been gone for a few years now, you’re away from your hometown and busy with school, and I know you’re not the most social person… I just want you to be taken care of, hun.”

You let out a deep sigh, your breath coming out in a spiraling, misty cloud.

“I’m fine by myself, Bob,” you tell her, and both your mouths twist into a smile at what Valek presumes is a nickname. “I appreciate your concern, but trying to force the issue isn’t going to get me into a relationship that lasts. The right person will show up when it’s time; I don’t want to rush it.”

“I get it, I get it. I won’t do it again, I promise. Just please give Michael a chance? For me?” she asks you hopefully, and you roll your eyes.

“Fine,” you give in with a reluctant smile. “But just a quick cup of coffee – I don’t want to be stuck at a restaurant for hours if this goes south.”

Your friend nods, a wide smile on her face, and skips off ahead of you, whooping into the night.

So, he wasn’t the only one that felt alone during this time of year, Valek muses to himself as he follows the pair of you to the elegant manor house where you’ll be staying. It was unfortunate, but truly made you the ideal ‘victim,’ loathe as he was to use that word. But you had no family, you were here for a short period of time… it would be easy to make you disappear in the event that he got carried away.

He doesn’t think he will – sure, your blood was inviting, but he finds himself equally, if not more so, interested in your brain.

---

One Day Later…

Reader’s POV:

You force yourself out of Roberta’s home, bundled up against the cold. You really don’t want to go on this stupid date, but you had promised, and you didn’t want to be rude to Michael.

You stifle a yawn as you make your way to the coffee shop, grateful that you’d at least be able to wake yourself up a bit with a nice, hot beverage. You hadn’t slept well the night before, and as twilight turns to dusk the darkness isn’t helping with your fatigue. Still, it’s a beautiful, clear night, the snow still thick on the ground and the treetops, so you do your best to enjoy it. Perhaps Michael would be late, and you could take some time to yourself; your journal and a bag of poetry were in your bag.

Unfortunately, you see him waiting for you outside the coffee shop as you approach, and he gives you a beaming smile that you do your best to return. No time to enjoy the night on your own, then.

Michael wraps you up in a friendly hug as he greets you, the embrace lasting slightly longer than you are comfortable with. You two weren’t complete strangers; he’d been a year above you in high school and you had seen each other at the few social events you had attended with your friends in the years since.

Once you grab your drinks you decide to make your way to the nearby park, making small talk along the way. Michael is… fine. He’s friendly, not leering overtly as he checks you out (you’re grateful again for the cold weather and the layers of clothing it affords you), and he even offered to pay for your coffee, but there’s just… nothing between you. You feel no spark, no real interest towards him, and every attempt you’ve made to tell him about your hobbies and interests he couldn’t be bothered to indulge you, always steering the conversation back to himself.

You’re disappointed, but not surprised. Like you had said to Roberta yesterday, you aren’t going to hit it off with someone by being set up with someone else. You’re old-fashioned, romantic, reserved, with a bunch of interests that people rarely wanted to hear about. Finding someone that you would connect with would be like finding a needle in a haystack, especially in this tiny town.

You sigh internally, trying to turn your attention back to Michael instead of counting down the minutes until you can go home.

---

You manage to make it an hour and a half before you start laying it on thick with the exaggerated yawns, and Michael eventually takes the hint, walking you to the entrance of the park.

“I hope I’ll see you at Roberta’s party on Friday,” Michael asks with a boyish grin. “I’ll be the one in the mask!”

You let out a genuine laugh for the first time that evening. “Yes, I’ll be there – she’s insisted on it!” you reply wryly, avoiding the subject of seeing him there. You’re bad at rejecting people – you hate disappointing anyone, for any reason – and are hoping that you can just go your separate ways without having to formally announce it.

Fortunately, Michael just wishes you a good evening with another hug that you force yourself to return before he turns to head home. You frown at his back. It’s not like you need him to walk you home – or even want him to – but the gesture would have been appreciated. Letting out the sigh you’d been keeping inside all evening, you turn to head back home.

“Excuse me,” comes a smooth, deep voice behind you that makes you jump; you hadn’t heard anyone coming up behind you. Turning around, you’re taken aback by the massive man that stands just a few feet from you. He must be nearly six and a half feet tall, with long, pitch-black hair that flows to his shoulders, blending in with his dark clothing. In contrast, his skin is incredibly pale, and his eyes were a piercing blue-grey that you can’t look away from.

You take a reflexive step backwards and bite back a gasp, and the man tracks the gesture before taking a few steps back. You feel guilty immediately – he seems polite, and you hope your jumpiness didn’t offend him.

“I apologize; I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says gently. “I merely wanted to ask if this was yours.”

He holds up a book which you immediately recognize as your poetry collection; it must have fallen out of your bag somewhere.

“Oh, yes! Thank you so much!” you exclaim with a smile, accepting the book from his gloved hand and returning it to your bag. “How did you know it was mine?” you ask, looking up at him.

“Nobody else is here. Someone was just leaving as I arrived, but he did not seem like the type to read poetry.”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing – no, Michael was definitely not the literary type. This man, on the other hand…

“He’s not – not for my lack of trying, anyway,” you say with a wistful sigh. “I’m Y/N, by the way,” you introduce yourself, extending a mittened hand to him.

“John,” he returns, taking your hand in his large one to shake it. Your skin never touches his, but you feel a thrill of electricity race from your palm up your arm, making you tingle.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” you breathe, finding yourself reluctant to step back from his personal space.

“And you,” he replies, not taking his eyes off of yours as if considering something. Your heart is thumping like mad, and you’re glad there’s no way he can hear it.

“So, the not-poet is a friend of yours, then?” John asks with an amused smirk.

“Who?” you ask, momentarily confused. This man’s presence is very overwhelming, and you find it hard to focus on anything else. “Oh, him! No, not really,” you say, rushing to get the words out. “We haven’t seen each other in years and were just catching up.”

“That makes a bit more sense,” he replies, and you cock your head at him inquisitively. “Someone closer to you should have the decency to walk you home, especially so late at night.”

You feel yourself flush, and hope that he attributes it to the cold.

“I don’t mind,” you say shyly, unable to look him in the eye as you speak. “It’s let me talk to you.”

Braving a look up at his face, you see him smiling down at you, his blue eyes glittering like the snow under the lights that line the sidewalk.

“May I walk you home, then?” he asks quietly, seeming nervous himself. “Provided that I would not be imposing.”

“You’re not imposing!” you say quickly, hoping that you’re not coming across as too eager. John merely grins at you before asking you to lead the way.

You slowly make your way back to Roberta’s home, trying not to shuffle your feet, but you can’t help it – you don’t want this walk to end. You and John talk about literature the way that you haven’t been able to with anyone outside of a college lecture hall, and it feels wonderful. John is knowledgeable, opinionated and thoughtful, and you’re both firing off questions one after the other. You can’t remember the last time you’ve felt so comfortable with a stranger; he doesn’t even feel like a stranger!

All too soon, you make your way to the front gate to Roberta’s home, turning to John with a sigh.

“This is me,” you inform him reluctantly, trying not to let your disappointment show. “Thank you so much, for giving me my book, and walking me home.”

“It was my pleasure, Y/N,” he replies warmly, before giving you that look again that has you desperately wanting to know what he’s thinking. “Have a good evening.”

“You too, John,” you say, giving him a timid smile. “I’m really glad that I met you.”

You fight the urge to look over your shoulder to see if John is still there, forcing yourself to walk up the driveway and to the large, ornate front door. The moment you close the door behind you, you press your nose to the glass of the window to check, but you can’t see him standing there. Turning, you lean your back against the door with a sigh.

What an absolute dream…

An encounter with someone like that, even just a one-off as this was – and your heart twinges at the thought of not seeing him again – made you believe that your approach to romance was correct. Why settle for just anyone when you now had evidence that someone like that existed?

“You look like you had fun.”

You jump, a guilty smile spreading across your face as Roberta enters from another room with a smug expression.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie flatly, and the woman rolls her eyes.

“Oh please, you look positively smitten. I’ll admit, I didn’t think things would go quite this well when I set you two up!”

You open your mouth before snapping it shut again, weighing your options. Telling Roberta that your good mood was from spending time with anyone other than Michael would beget a hundred more questions that you didn’t want to answer. A large part of you wants to keep John a secret, keep tonight something that belongs only to the two of you.

You hide a smile behind a feigned yawn, moving towards the stairs and the privacy of the guest room you were staying in.

“I’m not talking about this right now. Goodnight, Bob.”

“Sweet dreams,” the woman replies, her tone thick with implications. “I plan to see this romance for myself on Friday night!”

---

Friday Evening…

Valek’s POV:

He feels he’s making a mistake, but he just can’t help himself.

Entering a venue amongst a large group of people, their inhibitions lowered as they celebrate, their collective blood pumping in their veins, and your mouth-watering scent among them… For all his centuries as a vampire, Valek finds himself doubting his self-control.

He’s been taking precautions, to be sure – feeding far more than usual in the days leading up to tonight, the Winter Solstice. Tempting as you are, he finds he no longer wants to feed on you – he doesn’t think of himself as worthy.

He remembers that quote about the flower by Osho – about not picking a flower that you love, as it then ceases to be – and finds it appropriate for you. As much as he wants to take you, consume you, that would deprive the world of the beauty and life that you bring into it, should he get carried away.

Despite that, he’s going to see you tonight; he can’t bring himself to stay away.

You’ve made him feel nearly alive again, ever since your meeting a few nights ago. He’s been plagued by desires; for your blood, yes, but also for more of your conversation, your smile, your essence…

He has been tempting fate these past few evenings, needing to be close to you and content to just watch from a distance as you appear at one of the manor’s windows or walk into town with your friend. He doesn’t let himself approach the home, not wanting to torment himself, even as you sleep. Instead, he has left deep red roses on the doorstep every night for you to find in the morning. Somehow, you rightly knew that they were intended for you.

He adjusts the cuffs of his blazer, still unaccustomed to this type of modern clothing. He’s chosen a black three-piece suit and tie, his shirt a deep blue that matches his mask, his hair down, and finds himself feeling only mildly foolish. Based on the conversations he’d overheard when he had first spotted you, he assumes that this is customary.

Valek is not sure what he wants from tonight beyond getting close to you – again, this all seems like a risky endeavour – but he hopes that one night will be enough to tide him over for eternity.

It would have to be.

He makes his way to the party, the path to the manor familiar to him by now, and joins the throng of people. It doesn’t take him long to find you by scent alone, avoiding attention and standing off to the side, his wallflower. You’re wearing a floor-length, strapless blue dress and a swirling mask of blue, white and gold, your hair in an elegant twist that emphasizes your graceful neck.

Tonight will be difficult.

 ---

Reader’s POV:

You watch the party from a respectable distance – it’s truly a sight to behold, but not really something you want to partake in yourself. You promised Roberta you would stay downstairs and in the ballroom until at least midnight, but you’re finding it difficult to keep that promise, and it’s only just past 10.

“I did not take you for someone that would attend this sort of bacchanalia, Y/N.”

The voice sends shivers down your spine, your memories and dreams over the past few days not doing it justice. Your heart immediately begins hammering away as you turn to face him, and he is utterly resplendent in blue and black – your costumes compliment each other.

“John!” you exclaim, trying to keep the overwhelming joy you’re feeling inside. “I was coerced into coming. What’s your excuse?” you ask, curious, and he smiles secretively as he holds out a glass of wine to you. He is wearing gloves, even indoors, but you don’t comment on it as you accept the beverage. Your mouth is suddenly very dry, and you take a healthy sip of the wine, feeling warm.

“I’m quite certain that the entire town was invited. I recognized the address as your own and found it difficult to believe that you would be hosting something like this; I should have known subterfuge would be involved.”

You giggle, the wine going right to your head. “This is my friend’s parents’ place; I’m staying with her while I’m in town. She demanded I stay down here until at least midnight as a lodging fee.”

“You’ll have to introduce me to her at some point tonight. I have to thank you for ensuring your attendance,” he teases in his deep, smooth voice that has your cheeks flaming beneath your mask. “You are dazzling.”

You try not to hyperventilate, pressing yourself against the wall for support.

“So do you!” you reply quickly, trying to recover. “You look…” Stunning? Gorgeous? Delicious? Like a dark prince straight from my indecent fantasies?

“…noble! Plus, we match!” you tack on hastily, trying to move right past your corniness.

John doesn’t seem to mind, giving you a dashing smile that has you nearly swooning. Instead, you quickly finish the rest of your wine, needing the courage to continue having a conversation with this unattainable entity. Your talk quickly returns to your passionate discussion of literature, and you find yourself relaxing in John’s presence, almost unaware of the party surrounding you.

Looking back up at John – you find your eyes need to take frequent breaks from gawking at him to allow you to maintain some degree of focus – you see that he is looking at you with an amused expression.

“What?”

“You’re practically dancing,” he comments, and for the first time you notice that you are indeed swaying to the music, an orchestral version of one of your favourite pop songs. “Would you like to?” he asks, and you immediately start to panic.

“No!” you cry out before it occurs to you how the rejection might be taken. “Not because you asked, I mean; I just can’t dance.”

“Nonsense,” he counters immediately, stepping closer to you and making you tilt your head nearly all the way back in order to keep looking up at his handsome face. “It’s all in the leading. May I?” he asks, extending a hand towards you. You bite your lip, setting your empty glass down on a nearby table before placing your hand into his much larger one, your fingertips tingly as they brush against the supple leather of his glove. That same feeling of electricity shoots up your arm and nearly has you letting out a moan; the alcohol clearly isn’t helping you keep your composure.

John leads you towards the edge of the dance floor, then turns and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer but not flush against him. He raises his other hand, still holding yours, then moves his gaze pointedly to your left shoulder, your arm still nervously pressed against your side. You slowly lift your hand up between your bodies, placing it on his broad shoulder, and he gives you a pleased smile. He guides you through the slow dance, his palm pressing yours in a way that somehow has you moving the right way.

“Wow, you were right!” you exclaim in surprise, hardly able to believe it. “It’s all in the leading.”

“You are also a very good partner,” John croons down at you, his eyes twinkling beneath his mask. “Very responsive…”

His words have you blushing and feeling nearly dizzy as you sway to the music under his guidance. You could happily get lost in this moment, in his blue, blue eyes forever…

But after a few songs, you’re feeling overwhelmed and need a break; it’s almost hard for you to breathe. Reluctantly, you remove your hand from his shoulder, and he respectfully releases you.

“I’m going to go get some water if I can, provided Roberta hasn’t replaced it all with vodka. Can I get you anything to drink?” you offer with a smile, wanting to do something, anything for him. John’s lips twitch in amusement, but he declines your offer, and you move through the crowd, trying not to stumble in your haste to get to the refreshment table and back to him as quickly as possible.

You gulp down the cool water greedily, still feeling so warm all over. You’re desperate to return to John – you feel a tangible ache at being apart from him, and while you’re not sure that it’s a good or healthy thing, it’s not something you’re willing to endure any longer than you have to.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

Whirling around, you’re disappointed to see not John, but Michael, his black and gold costume a bit too ostentatious for your liking. But you suppose you’re being a bit unfair; there was nothing this man could do to hold a candle to John in your eyes.

“Good evening, Michael. Enjoying the party?” you ask politely, even as your eyes scan the ballroom for John – he’s not where you left him.

“I am now. Would you like to dance?”

You hesitate before giving your answer. You really don’t want to give Michael the time of day, but you’re not comfortable with rejecting him, especially surrounded by people you both knew. And even without alcohol, him possibly seeing you with John, or any other factors, men could be unpredictable when they were jealous or rejected. You look for John somewhat desperately one last time, hoping he’ll come save you, but he is nowhere to be found.

“Okay,” you agree noncommittally, unable to feign even a shred of enthusiasm. Unlike John, Michael pulls you tightly against him as he dances with you, his hips chasing yours in a way that makes you feel dirty and uncomfortable. You try to step away after the song ends, but he tightens his grip on you, giving you a pleading expression, and you resign yourself to another dance. He isn’t even bothering to try to speak with you, content to occupy your body rather than your mind, and you’re not upset about it as it allows you to keep your thoughts on John.

You manage to talk Michael out of asking for a third dance, but he doesn’t get the hint, attaching himself to your side as you move through the ballroom, still looking for John. He was so tall, so impressive, so utterly impossible to miss, that you’ve all but accepted that he’s left the party. You hope he hadn’t seen you dancing with Michael and gotten the wrong impression…

The large clock chimes twelve times, and you’ve never been more grateful for the sound. You’ve held up your end of the bargain to Roberta, and are now free to leave the party, and without John’s presence, there’s nothing to keep you here.

You fake a yawn, trying to look at Michael with an apologetic expression that you know rings hollow.

“Oh, I didn’t realize it had gotten so late. I’m exhausted,” you say. Michael looks pleased to hear this information, and the hair on the back of your neck stands on end at his expression.

“Would you like me to walk you to your room?” he purrs, and you suppress a shudder, certain that he will misinterpret it.

“Oh, no thank you,” you say clearly. “It was wonderful to see you again, Michael. Have a good night.”

You move past him without another word, not wanting this conversation to go on any longer, and hurry to the staircase and your bedroom. You slip inside and immediately take your mask off, feeling dejected. John’s presence at the party had been such a wonderful surprise, but his disappearance has left you feeling hollow and surprisingly upset.

There’s a knock at the door and you reluctantly open it, expecting Roberta to be chastising you. Instead, John’s tall form looms in the doorway, his dark mask still concealing his face. You briefly stop breathing, your heart thudding against your ribs.

“John!” you cry, the joy evident in your voice. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw you leave after speaking with that man from the park, and you looked upset. Are you alright?”

“I –” you start to say, but you pause, wanting to choose your words carefully. Were you alright? Probably not, considering you were head over heels for a mystery man you barely knew.

“I thought you had left, and I didn’t want Michael bothering me anymore,” you tell him instead, keeping things vague. “Where did you go? I was kind of hoping you would come rescue me.”

“Well, that wouldn’t have been proper.”

“Regardless, it would have been appreciated.”

John opens his mouth to continue your banter but freezes, his head turning to the stairs. After a moment, you hear the footsteps that had undoubtedly caught his attention; he must have excellent hearing. Feeling brazen, especially seeing as you don’t know if or when you would see him again, you take John’s hand and tug him inside, closing the door and turning out the light. You press your ear against the door, listening to the approaching footsteps. John watches you, an amused smirk on his face, and you glare at him in the silence. Eventually, the footsteps retreat, and after a moment or two of waiting, you conclude that Michael has gone, flicking the light back on with a sigh.

“You know, you could consider telling the man you are not interested,” John suggests with amusement. You growl at him.

“I shouldn’t have to outright reject him to keep him from trying to follow me to my bedroom,” you snarl, and he raises an eyebrow at you. “Plus, men aren’t always the most accepting of a rejection.”

John is visibly upset by the implications of your words, and something about his slight shift in demeanour has you feeling wary.

“Are you suggesting that someone hurt you as a result of you rejecting them?” he hisses, the sound making you shudder.

“It was a long time ago, and it wasn’t that bad,” you reply quickly, wanting him to settle down. “Loads of my friends have experienced way worse! It’s fine, John, really,” you add, trying to reassure him. His jaw is still clenched, but he takes a deep breath, clearly trying to calm down.

“Why would anyone respond with such anger?” he asks, sounding appalled. Perhaps the culture where he was from was vastly different from America.

“Most people only want to hear what they want to hear,” you say with a shrug. “No one is interested in honesty. I mean, I think I prefer the truth, but even I lie to people if the need arises – I’ve accepted that it’s necessary.”

“Do you mean you would always prefer the truth?” he asks, his eyes locking with yours with a serious expression.

“Yes.”

“In every circumstance?” he presses, clearly fishing for something. It has you feeling nervous.

“Yes, I think so,” you breathe, your eyes at his back as he walks across the room to look out your window. After what feels like an eternity, he turns back to you.

“I have not been honest with you, Y/N,” he confesses, looking deeply into your eyes with a pained expression, and you immediately feel yourself choke up. Of course this wasn’t real; there’s no way that somebody like him could truly exist.

Best get the truth out of him now, then, so that you could move on. You can already feel tears pricking your eyes, so immediately affected by his deception.

“W-What do you mean, John?” you ask in a weak, timid voice, and he takes a deep breath before responding.

“My name is not John,” he begins, and you tense up, the blood in your veins turning to ice. “I am Jan Valek, the first and oldest vampire.”

Neither of you blink or say anything for a long moment, your eyes locked. Finally, you let out a breathless, slightly hysterical laugh, the alcohol burning away your nerves.

“T-That’s a good one!” you giggle, unable to contain yourself, and John surveys you with a mildly irritated expression.

“I could prove it to you, if you’d like,” he offers.

“Oh by all means, go ahead!” you agree, beginning to laugh harder.

In a movement far too quick for you to see, he closes the distance between you, taking you in his arms and lowering his head to the side of your neck for a long moment, inhaling deeply. Your laughter dies in your throat immediately. He releases you, taking a step back before reaching up to pull away his mask. Blue veins beneath his pale skin are now prominent around his eyes, and he opens his mouth, revealing a rapidly growing set of sharp fangs.

You scream, stumbling backwards, but then he is on you once more, covering your mouth and nose with a gloved hand and lowering you to the ground gently.

“Calm down, Y/N,” he commands you, a strange light shining in his eyes, and against all rational thought you feel your body start to relax, your heartbeat returning to normal.

“That’s good,” he murmurs approvingly. “Speak quietly,” he adds, his eyes doing the glowing thing again, and you feel the scream you had been building up fade away. He removes his hand from your face, and you wrench yourself out of his grip, scampering back and away from him.

“What…” you begin, clearing your throat as your voice comes out hoarse and soft. “What did you just do?” you demand, the alcohol helping you push past your fear into anger.

“Mesmerization – it’s a sort of hypnosis,” John – Valek, apparently – explains, his voice calm.

“You hypnotized me?!” you hiss, injecting as much venom into your voice as possible since you are unable to yell at him.

“I didn’t want you to draw anyone’s attention, Y/N, I apologize,” the vampire offers, somehow sounding both sincere and unrepentant.

“Why? Are you going to kill me?” you ask him, whimpering at the thought. Strangely, the thought doesn’t upset you as much as the fact that he has been lying to you.

“No.” His reply is forceful and immediate; he looks anguished at the mere suggestion.

“Then what do you want?!” you cry out as loudly as you can, tears streaking down your face. You’re very aware of how the cut of your dress and your updo leave your neck completely exposed, and you pull your hair out of its twist to fall past your shoulders, concealing you. You know that it’s a completely pointless gesture, but you can’t help yourself, the instinct to cover yourself overwhelming.

Valek watches you with a pained, sad expression.

“It is not your blood that I desire, but your heart,” he confesses, longing and desire filling his eyes. “When I first came upon you, I did want to feed on you. Your scent is… intoxicating,” he groans slightly, his eyes rolling back into his head. Goosebumps erupt over your body as pure, primal terror courses through you.

“But as I heard you speak, as I watched you, as I spoke to you myself, you captivated me,” he continues, as though he hadn’t just admitted to wanting to drink your blood. “I have never been drawn to another as I have been drawn to you, Y/N. I have lived over seven hundred years, and in you I find a kindred spirit for the first time; you make me feel alive in ways I long thought were impossible. I have never wanted another the way that I want you, and I know that I will never find another like you as long as I live. I would happily spend the remainder of my existence by your side, and you would be the only thing in this world that I would cherish.”

There is a prolonged silence between you as you struggle to think of something, anything to say in response. Eventually, you give up.

“What am I supposed to say to that?” you ask, your voice slightly hysterical. How could you believe any of this?

“Do you desire me in the same way? As a confidante, a partner, a lover?” he asks bluntly. “Please, beloved, tell the truth,” he adds, and you feel the mesmerization at work once more. You’re upset that he’s controlling you with his strange magical abilities, but the urge to answer builds within you, creating a pressure so great that you are quickly forced to respond.

“Yes,” you moan out the truth, the intense feeling immediately dissipating as the words leave your lips. “You have been everything I have waited for, everything that I hoped a soulmate could be.”

The look he gives you is that of a man seeing the sun for the first time, awe and euphoria practically pouring out of him.

“But this is too much!” you continue, brushing aside the guilt that makes your heart clench as you watch his own break at your words. “You wanted to hurt me, to kill me! You’re not even human! And you lied to me – how am I meant to trust anything you say, to trust you with my life, when I’m… I’m so scared of you right now!” you sob hysterically, wrapping your arms around your knees. “I don’t want to feel this way for you, I don’t want to love you!”

You force yourself to look back up at him, scared at what your rejection might cause him to do. He is frozen in his crouched position on the floor across from you, eerily still, an expression of pure agony on his face. His eyes flit to yours, and then he nods, standing up in a flash of movement that causes you to let out a strangled yelp. He lifts you to your feet before you can protest, his movements gentle and controlled, and you find yourself trembling in his grip.

“Sleep, beloved,” he murmurs, and your eyelids immediately feel heavy. He guides you to your bed, helping you onto it but making no move to join you. You know that you should feel upset, angry, terrified – who knew what the extent of his strangely hypnotic powers were? – but you find yourself trusting him against your better judgement. He covers you with the blanket, looming over you, and you close your eyes – it’s too difficult to look at him right now. Still, you feel a tear escape and trail down your cheek at the mess of emotions that would be overwhelming you right now if you weren’t so tired.

“Be at peace, my treasure,” he coos softly as you drift off. “I wish for nothing more than your happiness.”

---

The next few days are hard and lonely. You had steadfastly rejected Roberta’s invitation to spend Christmas and New Year’s Eve at a nearby ski lodge with your other friends, desperately needing to be alone. You’re grateful for the time to yourself – you know you wouldn’t be able to hide the turmoil of your emotions from anybody. You had initially wanted to get a flight back to school when you woke up the day after the party, wanting to be away from this place and anything that made you think of him, but a snowstorm had grounded all flights.

You’ve been too scared to leave the house, afraid of running into him despite knowing that he wouldn’t need to lie in wait for you in town if he wanted to see you. Regardless, you’re grateful for the fully stocked fridge and pantry – there was no reason you would have to leave the little bubble of safety you had encased yourself in.

You yawn once again despite it being the middle of the day, rubbing your eyes sleepily. The days since the masquerade have been devastating – you’ve floated around in a fog, confused and heartbroken and exhausted. You can’t get Valek out of your head; you dream of him, you think you see him in the shadowy corners of the manor… you recognize the symptoms of lovesickness and heartbreak from your favourite old romance novels, but you never expected that the pain could be quite so intense.

You’ve taken to jotting your thoughts and feelings down in your journal, just needing to get them out of your head – this isn’t exactly the sort of thing that you can talk to Roberta about. A shame, really; she’d been wanting for you to have a love life for years now, and now that you actually have a situation you can’t even come to her with it.

You wander around the manor, eventually ending up in the ballroom – you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to visit it since the night of the masquerade. You wrap your arms around your body comfortingly – the large, open space is incredibly drafty and cold when not filled with people. Your eyes instinctively move to the wall on the far side of the room where the two of you had stood, and you again feel overwhelmed by your emotions. You miss him terribly; not just his presence, but the way he made you feel worthwhile, hopeful for the first time in a long time.

But, as much as your heart aches with regret, you can’t stop the shiver of fear that runs through you at the thought. Valek was a vampire, immortal, lethal; he had wanted to kill you before you had even met!

You force yourself to head back to your room, the ballroom bringing up too much for you to handle just now. It’s dark again already, and you turn the bedroom light on as you enter. Your eyes flit to your journal, still laid open on your desk, bits and pieces of your handwriting jumping off the page at you.

… It isn’t only the feelings he sparks in me, but their depth; I never would have believed such intense emotion existed, let alone that it could be felt so much, and for so long…

… I haven’t had a restful sleep since that night, and it’s starting to affect even my waking life. I see him in every shadow, anticipate him around every corner; he has consumed me entirely, and I fear that it will go on forever…

You grimace down at your messy cursive, feeling pathetic. Who’s to say that he had even been genuine about his feelings for you in the first place? You could be mourning the loss of a relationship that he never even wanted.

You turn to sit on your bed, and as you do you notice that your book of poetry is open on your bedside table, a deep red rose placed along the spine as a bookmark. You freeze. You had buried that book in your luggage the morning after the party, and tossed the roses away immediately afterwards, not wanting to see anything to do with him, and you have been alone in the house for days now. Against your better judgement, you pick up the book, moving the rose to rest on the table and reading the poem on the open page.

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility: whose texture compels me with the colour of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

You find yourself tearing up as you read the poem with fresh eyes, Valek’s choice both beautiful and heart-wrenching. You’re still unsure if you can believe his feelings to be genuine, but if they are, you both share the same intense angst of an unrequited love. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself as you prepare to confront him.

“Valek?” you call out, your quiet voice still echoing through the silent old house. It was the first time you had said his real name; you haven’t allowed yourself to since learning it.

There’s a light breeze behind you and when you turn, Jan Valek is standing in the middle of your bedroom. Your heart races immediately, both in fear and longing, and you’re unable to tell whether you want to run into his arms or to run away. You survey each other in silence for a long moment, and then he finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Don’t!” you growl out, your voice not betraying any of the nervousness and fear you’re currently feeling. His mouth snaps shut.

“Don’t even think about trying your mesmerizing hocus pocus on me, Jan Valek!” you snarl, and he presses his lips into a thin line; you think he may be trying to keep himself from laughing, which only fuels your anger.

“Who the hell do you think you are? You follow me around because you want to… kill me, or eat me, or whatever, you spy on me, you hyponotize me into confessing that I’m in love with you, you break in, you read my journal, you go through my things!” you pause mid-rant to catch your breath, angrily tossing the book of poetry at him, and he lets it smack him in the chest, remaining perfectly still. “How am I meant to feel about all of this, Valek?! I’m scared, I’m angry, I haven’t slept in days, I don’t even feel like a person anymore! You’ve ruined me!” you sob, unable to look him in the eye, instead staring at the ground in front of his feet.

“But I don’t need to tell you any of that; God knows you’ve been watching me suffer this whole time,” you whisper softly, your anger completely drained from you and replaced with a painful emptiness. You hear a sharp intake of breath that makes you look up at him through your tears; he looks completely devastated.

“So what do you want?” you ask, bracing yourself for the answer, be it in the form of words or his fangs piercing your flesh. “Why are you here?” you demand, crossing your arms in front of you.

“I could not bring myself to stay away,” he admits in a quiet, pained voice, looking at the ground just as you had during your own little speech. “At first I was merely being selfish, needing to see you again. Then, I saw you suffering as I have been, and I needed to know that you would pull out of it, that you would be alright. But it has been days, and you are in such pain… I do not know what I can do to make it stop, but I will do anything you ask; I cannot bear knowing of your heartache any longer.”

Your heartbreak takes on an entirely different level of hurt as you watch this giant, otherworldly man come undone at witnessing your suffering. So much of your soul longs for Valek, your love for him rivaling all other emotions, and you find yourself needing to ease his pain, so intertwined with your own. But how to do it?

“Give me a minute,” you tell him quietly when he looks like he’s becoming agitated with your lack of response, “I’m trying to think.” He nods, seeming relieved that you’re planning on answering him at all.

You force yourself to confront all of the negative feelings that this man – for he was still a man, at least in some regard – to try to figure out where they were coming from and how they could be rectified. There was just so much that was completely unknown to you: who he was, what he was, what he wanted with you… perhaps getting some answers would help clarify things for you.

“You forced me to tell you the truth,” you remind him bitterly, and his mouth twists into a grimace. He certainly seems to regret his actions. “Will you do the same for me? Answer my questions honestly, no matter what?”

He nods immediately, the corners of his mouth turning up in a small smile. “I will never lie to you again, dear one. Ask me anything, and I will tell you true. And if at the end you wish to be rid of me, I will never bother you again.”

Your heart twinges painfully at the mere thought of never seeing him again, but you push your feelings down for the moment, giving him a nod.

“Sit first, please,” he implores you, gesturing to your bed. “You are exhausted, beloved.” You move back, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, not wanting to get too comfortable and fall asleep. Now that Valek is here, much of the pain you had been enduring had gone away, being replaced with overwhelming fatigue.

“What about you?” you ask, crossing your legs under yourself.

“I do not tire as you do; my kind has no need for sleep.”

“Well, sit for my sake then, if you would. Looking up at you will hurt my neck after awhile.”

Amused, he looks around the room at his various seating options, then neglects them all in favour of kneeling on the carpet before you, looking up at you with pure devotion.

“V-Valek,” you stammer, peering down at him. “I meant in a chair…”

“I am where I wish to be, Y/N. Now please, what answers are you wanting to hear?” he insists, gazing up at you expectantly.

You decide to start with some of the safer, less personal questions – namely, the ones about vampirism.

“So… you’re a vampire,” you begin hesitantly, worrying your lower lip between your teeth.

“I am,” he answers, smiling at you indulgently.

“Does that mean that you kill people regularly?” You hold your breath, bracing yourself for the answer.

“Not regularly,” he clarifies. “I have killed vampire Slayers who attempted to kill me and mine, mostly.”

“There are vampire slayers?” you interrupt him, incredulous.

“Yes, they are a part of the Catholic Church.”

You blink down at him, stunned as you process that piece of information. “That’s… er… alright.”

“I do not make a habit of killing humans, Y/N,” he continues, returning to your initial question. “I have, on occasion, gone too far while feeding, and lost myself to the moment, but not for many years. It is largely an issue of self-restraint, and I have had centuries to develop that.”

You mull this information over.

“So you don’t normally kill people to feed on them?”

“Rarely, and never intentionally.”

“And how often do you feed?”

“Every week or so.”

“And do your… victims know about it?”

Valek looks away from you with a contrite expression. You wait him out for a long moment, staring down at the top of his head, but he doesn’t respond.

“You promised,” you remind him, and he looks back at you, ashamed.

“They do not,” he admits, and you find yourself reflexively leaning away from him. His eyes track your movement with an unhappy expression. “Please, may I explain to you why?”

You nod; if he’s willing to give you the truth, the least you can do is listen to it.

“Once we have fed, it is common practice to coat the wound in our saliva. It seals the wound and expedites healing. By morning, they will have a faint bruise, and the area may feel tender for a day or two, but nothing more. I typically mesmerize the victim to sleep beforehand; they never realize anything has happened.”

“You mesmerized me to sleep,” you point out with a cold expression. “Did you feed on me?”

“No, beloved, I assure you. I knew from the first minutes of our conversation that I would never in good conscience feed on you,” he reveals, sincerity ringing in every word. “Without your permission, that is.”

“Why would someone give permission to be fed on?” you ask, confused. “What good does it do them?”

“Companionship between vampires and humans is not unheard of, romantic or otherwise, though I have no personal experience with that sort of thing,” Valek says, and your heart skips a beat. “Some humans offer themselves to be fed on in place of unwitting victims, believing it to be easier on their conscience for befriending one of my kind.”

He rests his head on your mattress next to your legs, looking up at you with a scorching gaze that has your knees going weak. “I have also been told that the sensation of being fed on is nothing short of ecstasy.”

Your mouth goes dry, and you busy yourself by adjusting your position – namely so that you can clench your legs together, darkly seductive images coming to mind. Perhaps Valek’s vampirism was yet another reason you had been drawn to him, your sexual fantasies far less innocent than your relative inexperience would suggest.

“Regardless,” you say, trying to get back on track – or at least away from the current topic. “Just because you heal someone up afterwards and they never know about it doesn’t justify feeding on them without their knowledge.”

“I agree with you; my reasons are entirely selfish,” Valek concedes, looking regretful once more. “But think of how you responded when I showed you what I am; how you are still afraid of me now.”

You swallow, thinking back to the primal fear that flowed through you as you had seen his true form for the first time.

“I do not enjoy being a monster, Y/N,” Valek admits, his voice filled with anguish. “I do not want to cause harm to humans, to see their fear and revulsion in their eyes. Not even if I can compel them to forget it by morning.”

You pity him, seeing the toll that the centuries of suffering he has endured has taken on him. It wasn’t his choice to be a vampire, you presume, and watching others be terrified of you for doing what was necessary to stay alive must be intolerable. Perhaps there is some logic to his approach…

You pester him with further questions, each of his answers only bringing up more questions. He tells you about his abilities – you grill him particularly aggressively about mesmerization – and how many of his kind there are, which prompts questions about how someone is Turned into a vampire. The interrogation goes on for ages, and you find yourself fighting your fatigue more and more as the night stretches on.

“You said that you were the first vampire the other day - How did you become a vampire if no one was around to bite you?” you ask, immediately feeling horribly guilty as the question has him nearly cringing. “I’m sorry! You don’t have to tell me.”

He looks back up at you appreciatively, slowly lifting a gloved hand to yours, stroking the back of your hand. You snatch up one of his fingers, giving it a squeeze with a shy smile, and his gaze softens at the gesture.

“I said that I would tell you the truth, my treasure, and I will. But thank you for your grace, Y/N,” Valek coos, and you feel yourself blush. He summarizes the brutal and unjust exorcism gone wrong, and you feel a vicious rage building within you that you haven’t experienced before.

“That’s horrific,” you hiss, nearly shaking in your anger. Valek reaches up without having to look, reclaiming your hand once more.

“Do not be angry, beloved – it was very long ago, and I have made peace with it.”

“How?!” you ask incredulously. “What could possibly help you get over something like that?”

“It enabled me to meet you.”

His tone is casual, as though it should be obvious that knowing you was worth torture and a warped, twisted life of immortality, though he can’t bring himself to look into your eyes. You’re sure he can hear the way your heart is hammering under your ribs.

“Valek… you can’t mean that.”

He smoothly gets to his feet, turning to look down at you with reverence. “I do mean it, little one,” he croons. “I may have accepted this existence centuries ago, but I have never been grateful for it until I met you. My heart no longer beats, but I feel as though it could for you, Y/N. I desire you in any and every capacity you would allow me to have you, my love."

The confession is everything you dreamed of hearing one day, and so much more.

“The other vampires that you mentioned before, the ones that were involved romantically with humans… how did those relationships end?” you ask hesitantly, and Valek’s eyes light up at the implication that you aren’t completely shutting down the idea of being with him.

“Some go their separate ways, some live out their partner’s mortal life with them, and others go on forever, the vampire Turning the human,” he explains, laying out your options. “I would never Turn you unless it was something that you wanted, Y/N,” he assures you. “I will be with you until your dying breath if you permit it, be that as a mortal or a vampire.”

You’re not sure when you moved off the bed, but you find yourself slowly closing the distance between you until you’re nearly in his arms.

“You are mesmerizing me, Jan Valek,” you accuse, looking up at him with unbridled longing. “You have to be. This can’t be real.”

“I assure you that you have the same hold on me, my treasure,” Valek purrs, his presence seeming to surround you, though he makes no move to touch you, as though worried the gesture might scare you away. “You have me completely at your mercy, Y/N. I will give you anything, you need only to ask.”

“I… I want everything that you are, Valek,” you confess, feeling as though a weight has been lifted from your shoulders the moment you get the words out. “I love you; I need you.”

Valek slowly reaches for you, drawing you close to him with an arm around your waist, his other hand gently brushing a loose lock of hair behind your ear before cradling the side of your face.

“Kiss me,” you beg in a whisper, and he immediately obliges, bending to capture your lips with his own. The tingling sensation that had raced through you when your hand had touched his gloved one in the past pales in comparison to the sheer electricity that courses through you as your lips meet. Your desire fully overwhelms you as you throw yourself at him, leaping into his arms to twine your arms around his neck, your bodies flush with one another as you kiss him with everything you’ve got.

Valek seems briefly taken aback by your ferocity; it takes him a moment before he lifts you right off your feet, holding you against him with ease as you devour one another. His lips are surprisingly soft and warm, and incredibly inviting – you find yourself getting dizzy. Valek lowers you back to the ground, trying to break the kiss, but you cling to him; he ends up having to forcefully pull you off of him.

“You stopped breathing, beloved,” he explains with a chuckle when you pout at him, not even aware of your body frantically trying to catch its breath. You blush, horribly embarrassed, and he scoops you up, carrying you to the bed and sitting you down on it, moving to stand back from you, intent on waiting for you to calm down.

“That’s hardly my fault,” you say huffily, staring up at him with dark, hooded eyes, and he smirks down at you in a way that has your whole body trembling with need. “Please don’t stop!”

Valek has you on your back on the bed quicker than you can blink, looming over you with his larger form but pointedly not touching you. Impatiently, you reach up to pull him down but he thwarts your attempts, gathering your wrists and pinning them over your head gently with one hand. Such a little act of dominance has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, completely ready and willing to give yourself to him in any way he wants. 

“Tell me what you need, my heart. I want to taste your desire in your words,” he purrs, lowering his body closer to yours but remaining just out of reach.

He makes you want to let go and lose control and just feel, and you tell him as much, shamelessly begging him to take you and do all the darkly romantic, sensual things you didn’t think you’d ever be able to bring yourself to ask for. The heated look he gives you assures you that he will give you them all and nearly has you delirious with lust.

He moves agonizingly slowly, his hands controlled and precise as he undresses you. Every inch of your flesh exposed to his gaze is looked upon with adoration and awe, and he doesn’t stop to give into his burning desire to touch you until he has fully divested you of your clothes, relying on every shred of patience he’s developed during the course of his existence. Having not had his centuries of experience, you eagerly try to push his heavy coat off his shoulders, your fingers moving to the buttons on his shirt as he chuckles and moves to help you take off his coat.

“Patience, my dear,” Valek croons, taking hold of your hands once more as you squirm underneath him, chilly and impatient and desperate for his touch. “I fully intend to savour every moment of this as I make you mine.”

“But I want to see you!” you whine, pouting up at him and batting your eyes. He looks down at your naked form, desperate with need for him, and the pale blue veins around his eyes start to appear as he gives into his carnal desires. He licks his lips, and you see his fangs sharpening in his mouth.

“Fuck,” you moan wantonly as his vampiric side comes out. Instead of the fear that you had felt the first time you had seen him in this form, now it only sends a thrill through you; somehow, you want him even more because of the danger he poses. Valek, however, misunderstands and immediately moves to soothe you.

“It is alright, Y/N, just the similarities between bloodlust and my lust for you that bring this side out of me. I can stop if you are frightened, but I assure you that I am still in control of myself.”

“I’m not!” you pant, unsuccessfully trying to squirm out of his grip and pounce on him. “Please, Valek, I’m not scared of you doing anything except stopping.”

He leans down to kiss you once again to silence your complaints, and you happily oblige him, letting him kiss you into submission, his dark hair falling around you like a curtain. Still with his lips on yours, Valek tears his gloves off to reveal his long, slender fingers and sharp nails, running them lightly up your sides and making you arch up off the bed with a wail, your cries swallowed by his mouth.

He releases your lips, allowing you to catch your breath while he lays kisses all over your face as though he wants to claim every inch of you. You hope he does; you’re already all his.

“Your skin tastes of sunshine,” he murmurs seductively, his lips moving lightly down your neck to one of your shoulders, then slowly making their way along your collarbone to the other. “I would bask in your warmth forever if you would let me, beloved.”

“I will, I do,” you moan, reaching between you to try to finish taking off his shirt. A loud, purring rumble emanates from within him as your fingers stroke his bare chest, giving you a fluttering sense of pride. Feeling more confident, you slide your hands up along his neck to hold his face, tilting it upwards so that his eyes meet yours. He cocks his head at you with an inquisitive expression.

“You know that I love your old-fashioned approach to romance, Valek,” you tell him seriously, “and we will have my entire lifetime – if not forever – to take things slow. But I need to be yours right now. And I don’t want you to be gentle; show me that you desire me the way I do you – don’t hold back.”

He gives you a nearly feral look, his hands curling into fists as he tries to control himself; somehow, you are able to sense the energy he’s fighting to keep inside of him instead of tearing into something.

“You wish for a taste of darkness, beloved?” he asks, pulling off his shirt and tossing it to the side. You gawk at his broad, pale chest, trying not to drool, and lick your lips. Valek hisses at the action, adjusting himself over his pants. You sit up, your hands moving to his belt; this time, he doesn’t stop you.

“I wish for a taste of you, Valek,” you tell him in a fierce whisper, looking up at him as you remove his belt and move to the button of his pants. “If being rough with me will make you feel half as good as I know it’ll make me feel, then yes, please. Claim me, my love. Make all of me yours.”

He pins you back against the sheets with a growl, his sharp nails drawing teasing patterns across your breasts, your nipples peaking as if to demand more of the rough treatment. You arch your back, thrusting your breasts into his hands with a needy cry. Valek is utterly merciless in his torment, bringing you to the threshold between pleasure and pain and keeping you there. You are practically vibrating with need as one of his hands trails down your torso to your thighs, parting them with ease. One long finger slips between your slick folds, grazing your clit, and you shriek, bucking your hips towards him. You hear him snicker softly against your chest, his lips and tongue continuing to tease your breasts as his hands move lower.

“You are otherworldly when you are giving into sin, Y/N,” he croons, his fingers insistent as they explore your entrance, slick with your arousal. You let out a whimper that he swallows into his mouth, his fingers working at your clit and not relenting until you’re on the precipice of orgasm before he backs off, only to repeat the action, edging you over and over until you’re nearly delirious. And still, all you want is more.

“Please!” you manage to beg him, your hands guiding his face to your neck, wordlessly trying to convey what you want. You’re losing all sense of lucidity, clinging desperately to your sanity as he brings you so close to the edge. Valek turns his head to the side, his tongue reaching out to lick the outer shell of your ear and making you shiver.

“Please what, my sweet? I want to hear you say it,” he whispers, and you can tell he is enjoying prolonging your torture.

“Bite me! Feed on me!” you demand shamelessly, your eyes shut tight as you try to focus on the feeling of his mouth on your skin, seeking any indication that he will give this to you. “Make me scream for you.”

You hear him inhale deeply, his nose lightly running up and down the side of your neck, and you turn your head to the side to give him better access. His fingers have stopped their endless teasing of your swollen clit, but you are still trembling in anticipation. You feel his tongue dart out and give your sensitive flesh a sinful lick, making you gasp for breath.

Finally, you feel him bite you, the only pain being a slight sting that only adds to the overwhelming pleasure that courses through you. You’re not even sure that ecstasy was an accurate enough description for this feeling coursing through your veins – the pleasure is absolutely indescribable. Your eyes roll back in your head, the parts of your body not currently pinned in place by his body thrashing out of your control as you come violently. You hear yourself distantly shrieking in rapture, moaning and whimpering his name, babbling for more as he feeds on you, his fingers relentless at your clit and drawing out your climax – or maybe he was just making you orgasm again and again without interruption.

Eventually, he ends his torment, licking your wound to seal it before lifting his head from your neck, traces of blood on his lips. He stares down at you with a satiated expression, trying to remove his hand from between your clenched thighs, still spasming and out of your control. You’re sure that your inner thighs will be bruised from how you had squeezed them against his firm hand, and the idea only adds to your bliss. He leans down to kiss you but hesitates, unsure of your willingness to taste your own blood. You’re able to gather enough strength and lucidity to force yourself to sit up and kiss him, pulling him down to lay on top of you. There is a slight metallic taste to his lips, but it is largely overshadowed by the intoxicating taste of Valek, an indescribable flavour that you’re sure you’ll never get enough of.

“Finally satisfied, my little temptress?” Valek asks teasingly against your lips, your body completely relaxed beneath him.

“Nearly,” you hum through a yawn, blindly reaching to remove his pants once more. He groans, rolling over with you and cradling you on top of his chest.

“You are exhausted, beloved,” he points out, stroking your hair affectionately. “There will be time enough for that later.” Stubbornly, you ignore him, pushing yourself up onto your knees and tugging his pants down his legs, trying and failing to dodge his hands as they snatch up your wrists.

“Valek!” you whine, pouting down at him. His lips quirk into a smile at your persistence, and you narrow your eyes at him before throwing one leg over him and straddling his narrow waist, inches away from where you really want to be. Valek stills, transfixed, and you slowly bend down until your face is right above his, feeling decidedly naughty.

“I believe we agreed that you would be rough with me, my love,” you murmur, one hand drawing teasing patterns across his bare chest. “I hope you don’t think I’m so delicate that I’ve already had enough of you tonight. I need you to defile me, inside and out.” You grind yourself against his firm abdominal muscles, and he growls. You decide to try the innocent approach next to get him to give in.

“Please?” you ask, batting your eyelashes down at him with the most innocent expression you can muster, and he lets out a wild snarl, rolling you onto your back again and tearing off the rest of his clothes hastily before positioning himself between your legs. You can’t see his cock, pressed against him as you are, but you can certainly feel it, the silky hard length rubbing against your thighs enticingly. Eagerly, you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to line him up with your entrance by feel alone.

“You will be my undoing, my treasure,” he tells you, his blue eyes locked with yours, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you until your foreheads touch.

“And you will be my forever, Valek,” you reply, kissing him passionately. He thrusts into your wet heat in one fluid movement that has your toes curling and sets about claiming you yet again; you have only so much time before the sunrise.

---

[FYI: The poem Valek chose for her is “Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond” by E.E. Cummings]

Hope you all enjoyed! Day #3's fic is looking to be more depraved than this one, if all goes according to plan... 👁️👄👁️ (It's a carry-over from Dark Desires October I didn't get to; sue me!)

[basil-appreciation-comic]

IMPORTANT UPDATE!!

the comic is cancelled. you probably already assumed that since i havent posted anything about it in a while but yeah the things dead now lol. mainly because i dont care much about omori anymore, the comic sucked, and it was too much effort. i feel kinda bad about leaving you guys in the dark for this long tho, so i thought id go ahead and include all the scrapped stuff for the comic that never got finished

while i was writing the comic i started a google doc that laid out ideas i had for future pages. heres that if you wanna know how the story ends

it was written over several months and (most) things are in order of where they go on the timeline not when i wrote them so it might be a little hard to follow

also some art i never posted

(at least i dont think ive posted the last one)

i quoted not liking this comic as one of the reasons i stopped so let me explain that with a list of things id change about this if i were to remake it (which i wont)

remove the swearing that was so stupid

make omori mute (and probably use sign language)

omori does not express fear or stress in-game, thats sunnys job. quit it

he also does not cry and generally shows emotions (even the big ones) in more subtle ways (which i think i was trying to shift towards later in the doc) idk why he was so emotional all the time

literally everything about how i portrayed omori actually that was all just awful

the panic attack scene is fucking embarrassing i have no clue what i was thinking. im so sorry for writing it like that i did 0 research beforehand

make it shorter why did i think that would work out

id probably just make it a fic, comics take way too much outta me compared to just writing things

it does not need a big epic ending and probably shouldve ended not long after they escaped black space

the romance is horrible but thats the foundation of the comic so idek what id do about that

stop making everyone talk like therapists 24/7

and yeah it has a lot of problems but i still do care about this due to the ammount of effort and love ive put into it, i just cant and dont want to continue it

so yeah thats where this story ends ig. i had a lot of fun along the way, and thank you so much for all the support. bigger thanks to that one sunflower discord server (if you came from there you know which one) for being my main motivation and support throughout this journey. sucks this comic never got to see its full potential but im relieved to finally lay it to rest. the blog will stay up for archival purposes but i will not continue the comic any further obviously. the ask box will remain open if you wanna say anything or if you have a question about the story or whatever. thanks for reading.

[skellymom]

Vagabonds Questions

What inspired you to write the fic this way?

What scene did you first put down?

Where did the title come from?

Thanks for asking @genericficerblog !

For reference and shameless self promotion, here is the intro and first chapter of my ongoing The Bad Batch Hunter x OC fan fic series:

The subsequent chapters after that are linked at the end of each chapter so you can continue to read uninterrupted (If indeed the links do still work. Message me if they don't please!). I've only just written 1/4 of the story arc so far. There is farther to go. And many surprises in store for the reader. Admittedly, I had hoped to pick up past chapter 8 already...but SUPER burnt during the holidays from working my main job (veterinary technician). So I might not start up the story again until Feb 2024. I need a mental health break.

#1. What inspired you to write the fic this way? When it comes to my OC, I'm a bit of a control freak. So third person omnipresent works for me. I get to share ALL OF THE DETAILS of everyone involved in the fic. However, I do have two first person one shots that work much better when the reader is the only person privy to what they are thinking and the other characters are a bit of a mystery.

Also, with all the horrible crap going on in the world that I have NO control over...it's nice to write something that's a bit escapist. I have control over this universe. And, while characters might encounter hardship and loss, the ending for sure will be happy. It might be bittersweet, but it's cosmically for the best. I feel like I have more control over this world than the one I live in. The one that control is really only an illusion. And, I'm no hero. Just another cog in the machine clicking away.

#2. What scene did you first put down? Actually, the scene with Love force grabbing and rescuing the puppy from the Coruscant meat market. They needed to rescue that poor little soul! However, the very first scene to even pop into my head as an idea was that of Mad trying to fly out of trouble on the Beldame and Love pretty much protecting the ship with their unrestrained Force Shield...with disastrously (or lucky) insane results. Didn't write it down until much, much later.

I LOVE WRITING ACTION SCENES! I tend to write the really meaty scenes first (I have several notebooks that I just scribble stuff down while sitting in front of the fire, with a cup of tea, or whenever I can pick up and write). Then I slowly piece bits together to make the whole of the story. I have ideas whizzing around all the time in my head...I just gotta commit to writing them into reality!!!

#3. Where did the title come from? A "Vagabond" is a person that wanders from place to place without a home or job. Or a person having no settled home. A wanderer or traveler. It usually doesn't have a pejorative meaning as it can have a romanticized connotation, but sometimes can be pejorative as in calling someone a vagrant.

I've always been interested in people who continually move from place to place, either by want or necessity. Most people tend to stay in one place and never go far due to being comfortable with what they know. But, what if you're comfortable with what you don't know? What if settling in too long in one place is stifling? Or constantly moving allows you freedom, opportunities, experiences...maybe even safety? What if your culture ENCOURAGED you to keep moving and embrace the unknown and new experiences?

I have been a bit of a Vagabond most of my life. Moved away from my home state at 21 years old (I would have left sooner...like 10 years old if I had the money, confidence, luck, parental consent, etc. My cousin reminded me that climbing through the bedroom window and running away with just a suitcase would land me in juvenile detention. Plus, she said she would miss me). Two Navy husbands, lots of places I've lived, visited, traveled to and still going whenever I can. Hell, I'd couch surf, floor crash, or whatever it takes to go visit ANYWHERE! And, if I stop moving too long I get restless and a major case of wanderlust.

So, in between saving money and planning to find places to go I write and travel to places in my mind that don't exist. Yep...Mad is ME! Surely you figured that out already. Been dreaming of flying away on adventures since I was a child. I LOVE planet earth. But, sometimes I look up in the sky at night and gaze at the stars...hoping to see a craft touch down in the greenspace behind my house. A band of rag-tag misfits emerge and call over the fence. They traveled an awfully long way through hyperspace lanes and time-space worm holes to come to this tiny blue planet holding life. They say they are looking for a few good Rebels. I turn and yell to my family that I'm off to fight a galactic war and don't wait up for me at dinner. Gotta shoot some imps and steal some intel. Be back tomorrow. <3

[inkdemon-whore]

bit of a continuation of this post, this art, and maybe also this art, bendy, having made hundreds, if not thousands of different versions of audrey to try and appease joey and set itself free, grew attached to a select few over the time he's made and re-made her.

the one drawn in the bendy basically being a dad image, is his most favorite. he doesn't name her, or any of the others, so anytime he talks about her, he just says "My Favorite." and thanks to some of my own ideas, and this lovely lil comment uwu

his "favorite" might have given him, at least a bit of a change of heart, just for a while at least.

(this is a bit long and slightly fan-fic-y, so i'll put it under keep reading)

(also look at the tags they got tw's, that's kinda important)

when ripping parts of himself to make audrey, he digs out pieces of himself. pieces that seem insignificant to him now, but when isolated, might act out in ways he couldn't expect. there may have been versions of audrey that where horrible monsters, killing things just like him, or little ones full of rage, envy, sorrow, or loneliness.

with him having so much of those emotions to go around, having those parts of him torn off, he isn't too surprised, and it doesn't really phase him.

but at some point, he dug a little deeper, just in the right spot, to pull out something that all those negative emotions buried.

now, i also hc that at this point, the ink demon was/is mostly an abusive parent. being rather neglectful, and only starting to care a little, at least for the audrey's appearance, in the hopes that so long as she looked human, he could be freed. he would call all of them names, and say "you'll likely die" whenever it was time for them to meet joey, and he was always right, so he never bothered. he'd push his own creations away, because of his own trauma.

but this one. this one he calls his "favorite". at some point started to realize that, despite the ink demon saying mean things to her, he was rather kind, and didn't hurt her. despite him killing and eating people, around her, he was rather protective, maybe a little too protective. even if he would threaten her life, or get close to eating her, she wouldn't seem scared. (it could also be that she just freezes, or dissociates due to abuse)

he could call her a hideous, ugly wretch, that no one would ever truly love, while still having cleaned her, and tried to make her look pretty, and she would pick up on that. "you don't rrreeeaaallly think i'm ugly, do you? you spend all this time fixing my dress and my hair. if you really think i'm ugly, maybe it's because you're not very good at making pretty things."

a majority of the time, the ink demon would be straight up with her, saying "i eat people, because i enjoy tormenting them. ripping them apart limb from limb, and hearing them scream, and cry, and beg." and anytime he even seemed like he was lying, mostly in contradictions between his words and actions, she'd ask him about it, and he wouldn't really have an answer for her. and not having an answer made him feel vulnerable.

sooner or later, he slowly becomes more kind to her, taking her to heavenly toys, or bendy land, just spending time with her, if at a distance and seeming detached or aloof. still insulting her and being a bit abusive, but not physically hurting her all that much. he even brings her supplies to draw, and watches her on occasion. he starts extending his time with her, enjoying her company, occasionally wondering if he should play "the end" reel on himself, simply to spend even more time with her.

but her time is coming to and end, and joey is getting impatient. once it's time for her to go, he's finally nicer with his words, if not still blunt and distant. she ask him if joey will like her, and he coldly says no. she ask if he can come with her, and once again he says no. she ask if all those horrible things he said about joey where true, he says yes. she's squeezing a bendy doll he gave her, holding back tears, "is he... really going to kill me if i'm not perfect?"

... something in him finally clicks, and for once, he honestly, genuinely tries to reassure her. that she doesn't have to be "perfect". she doesn't have to be "born right" to be beautiful, or deserving of love. that what imperfections she has means something to him, and make her who she is. and for a moment, he doesn't want her to go.

but she goes...

and she's gone...

she's dead...

like the rest of them...

and he regrets not being kinder to her...

and he hates himself for not having more time with her...

and he eats her, like he'd done the rest, dug around, hoping to get that little piece of him back once more, to see it just for a moment, but could never find it, and could never rebuild it again...

just more sad, angry, or detached audrey's, that sure, began to look more human, began to be more human, but slowly became more and more of a blank slate. more of a marry sue even, but it took a lot out of him (pun intended) to just get that.

audrey may be perfect... but she is not his Favorite.

[plush-huening]

Waitlist - Lee Jihoon

title: Waitlist

pairing: Lee Jihoon x GN Reader

word count: 1594

genre: slight angst??, fluff

Authors note: so this is my first fic for this page, i haven't written in a long while so sorry if its horrible. After years of liking kpop i finally got into Seventeen earlier this year and recently i have been a little obsessed with Jihoon as i finally confirmed him as my bias. So im sorry if this is OOC of him. This is just really self indulgent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting alone in you and your boyfriend’s shared apartment has become routine at this point, no point in waiting hours to have someone return home only for them to shrug you off saying “please, my love I’m tired.” Claiming he already ate with his members when he had dinner made for him waiting in your shared apartment. All days aren’t like this though. 

Some days Jihoon comes back home when you’re already in bed drifting off to sleep, unable to wake yourself up to greet him. He warms up his dinner that was waiting for him in the microwave, smiling at a sticky note on the microwave with the word “enjoy!” and a smiley face scrawled on it. He eats it in the quiet of the cold living room only to trudge upstairs and give you a kiss on the forehead before getting in bed next to you. Only for the same events to unfold the next day.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t hear the door to your apartment open. Only when his keys clank on the counter do you look behind you. Looking less exhausted as he usually does he makes his way to the kitchen not paying mind to you till he walks out of the kitchen, finally taking notice of your presence on the couch.

“What are you doing up so late,” Jihoon looks at you while he eats his warmed up food.

“What are you doing up so late,” Jihoon looks at you while he eats his warmed up food.

“It's not that late,” avoiding his gaze you start fiddling with the hem of your sweater, “It’s only ten, if anything you’re early.” 

If the slight sharp tone didn’t give you away, the way you avoided even turning to him made him curious. 

“Is something wrong,” he puts his bowl down and settles next to you, “Did something happen today?” 

While you want to let him know how his absence is affecting you, he has a comeback to prepare for, so you push it back for him. For yourself. You’ve known Jihoon for years before the two of you actually started dating, always knowing how hard of a worker he is. Then when he debuted you were nothing but ecstatic. You showed him all the support in the world, not caring that you would potentially be on the sidelines while he continuously furthered himself and his members into the music industry. 

“Nothing is wrong Hoon,” you stall, “I’m just a little worn out today,” still looking at anything but him.

Looking at your tired puffy face with a questioning expression he asks, “Why haven't you gone to bed yet?”

“I was waiting for you to come home,” then a hushed and unsteady “just like I always do” rushes out as you slowly stand from the couch.

Barely able to hear what you said under your breath, his eyes follow you as you get up and start making your way to your room. You hear your name being called in a quiet voice as you retreat. 

Either his voice is getting louder or he’s getting closer, you don’t care, opening the door and swiftly closing it before he can make it close to the entrance. 

Jihoon opens the door just seconds after, “What's going on, what was that about,” he makes his way towards your figure that is now on the bed. You feel the bed dip down beside you.

You draw out a sigh thinking about how you have shared with Jeonghan your thoughts and feelings, due to his question regarding Jihoon continuously leaving the studio at unthinkable hours. “I don’t see a problem with it, it's alright. I do wish he would be home more or even just get home a bit earlier. I hardly get to see him as is when you’re all busy with schedules but he just never stops. He just had a comeback and not even a day after promotions ended he was back to making music,” you slow, “It's not like I don't want him to do what he loves, but it’s every day.” Jeonghan’s gaze softens as you go on, rambling about how you wonder if your own boyfriend even gives you as much as a passing thought when he makes music. 

Jeonghan at this moment makes it his plan to send passing hints to Jihoon, of course not with outright comments or speaking with him, feeling like his friend has to realize this for himself for him to make the change. 

You come back out of your thoughts as you feel him place his hand on your arm. “Hey, what the hell happened? I got home and you just got up and left after barely speaking with me.”

Hearing the irony in his statement was comical, for him to even think what you just did was even worth complaining about. 

“It's nothing, really” the words you’re able to say are quiet, “We can talk about it another time, I don’t feel like talking about it right now.” You shuffle under the blanket you had at the foot of the bed, only when it engulfs you do you realize that this might be the only time you’ll be able to actually speak to him about it. Him being home and early enough where the both of you are awake.

Abruptly sitting up you turn to face him, still not looking at him. Just from looking at you he can tell you’re tired and have been thinking for a while. Your eyes shifting ever so slightly around the dimly lit room searching for anything more interesting than his eyes that are currently staring you down.

“Actually,” pausing, you figure out how to express your thoughts without making him feel horrible, “I um… I do have a problem.” Your voice is quiet and shaky, nervous for his reaction.

“I don’t like how late you come home everyday. Every single day without fail you come home, most times, after one in the morning only to leave before I even get one eye to open, nonetheless see you off in the morning. I know you have work to do but when it’s a day after you just had a big release and you’re gone,” you catch your breath only to feel his hands at your cheeks, wiping stray tears you didn’t know slipped “It’s just not fair, you spend so much time at your studio that I hardly ever see you for more than a few minutes each night. I just want to see my boyfriend.” 

When you finally look at him he has his head tilted down, unable to see the look in his eyes. His mouth opens then closes immediately only to utter out, “How long have you felt like this,” he asks, voice strained. 

“It wasn’t always this bad, please don’t-”

“Please don’t what?” he looks at you “are you going to ask me to not worry about how you’ve felt this entire time.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, “So all this time you felt like this and I couldn’t realize.”

Normally Jihoon is quick to avoid problems and never the first to apologize in a fight but at this moment he doesn’t care about his distaste for skinship either as he wraps his arms around you, placing his hand on top of your head to gently run his fingers through your hair. 

“I'm sorry. I truly am. I just love what I do and things need to get done,” he sighs. “That doesn’t excuse me, I shouldn’t have put my love of music and producing over my love for you, i’m so sorry.”

“Its alright Hoonie, just please, please consider coming home earlier sometimes.” 

“I love you,” Jihoon takes your face between both his hands, “I will try to not let my work consume me so much, my love, I finished the song I was working on.” He pulls away and places a gentle kiss on your nose, then your lips.

“I think I should stay home tomorrow, for the both of us.”

“I would like that Hoon”

“You didn’t eat already did you? Let's make some ramyeon for us to share.”

[marvelousfangirl01]

REST IN PEACE, THE HAUNTING’S FREE (Part IV)

RATING: M for Graphic Depictions of Violence

Please pop over to Ao3 where this fic is also available! https://archiveofourown.org/works/43721379/chapters/109942566 :)

---

Shit.

The black widow bride was back, dead but alive, able to think and feel for herself. What had George done to deserve this? Had his mental state gone so far south that he couldn’t hold the curse any longer?

George didn’t foresee himself returning to Leota’s seance chamber at any point in his afterlife, yet here he was.

“Georgie!” Leota’s gravelly voice was an endless echo in the chamber. The odd glow of the room, the bizarrely textured and colorful rugs, and Leota’s bright-green face… It all made George feel a bit woozy. “Good to see you again!”

George waved feebly to the enchantress. “I need your help, Leota,” George stated. “I made a terrible mistake. I… let her out.” George knelt next to Leota’s crystal ball. His knees felt like they were about to buckle. Leota was an averagely beautiful woman with sweet eyes and flowing hair—though nowhere near as beautiful as Constance. George was ashamed that he was even objectively looking at Leota.

No. Constance was evil. He should not be looking objectively at Constance either – he had no loyalty to her. She was his killer…

Just let it go already! George scolded himself. His hatbox was filled with his head again. He was not happy with Constance at this moment. If he were, he wouldn’t be here in Madame Leota’s chamber asking for revenge once again!

“It was all an accident,” George sighed. “I was afraid and it got out of control… I felt my hands shaking and then it was like the whole house was shaking…”

He was entirely out of breath.

“Mmm,” Leota hummed, eyes glowing. “Sounds like you want revenge.”

“What?” George denied it, but the psychic was correct. “You’re jumping right to the point…”

“I know you, Hightower. You are a hardworking man who won’t give up his successes for anything.” Leota’s crystal ball began to levitate higher. George craned his skull to see her. Developing in her eyes was a crazed look, one that would put Constance’s large blue eyes to shame. And maybe it wasn’t totally wrong to look at pretty Leota, the one who had saved his life for many years and kept Constance at bay.

Leota had her affairs going, though. She’d dabbled in relationships with ghosts and ghouls alike. Besides, the crystal ball situation was… inconvenient, for physical touch.

If anything, George just wanted Constance back. For himself.

“But you won’t escape your past if you keep fighting for those same successes you once had,” Leota continued.

George reeled. “How can I let it go when it’s been part of my life for so long? When I wake up I only think of her, Leota. I want to keep her enslaved but also set her free. I want to escape her, yet I don’t. I hate her yet I love her.”

The panic would never subside. Months of dancing in the empty foyer of Hightower Mansion, years of clinking glasses flowing with ruby red wine, a lifetime of kisses that George just wanted to get back, a death by hatchet… the memories would always assault him.

Unless, in fact, he could get Constance back.

“I have an idea.”

George hadn’t realized he spoke at the same time as Leota, but the green crystal ball was already emitting an unusually bright color.

“Does this excite you?” Leota’s voice echoed once again, but not due to the seance chamber’s open space; no, this was a work of her magic.

Constance’s precious face, gold with radiance and youthful beauty, appeared as a blockade in front of him. She clasped her hands innocently over her heart, just as she always did, but the hatchet didn’t appear. A few more seconds and she would’ve started murmuring sweet nothings to George.

“Leota, you think… we could bring her back?”

“Yes. With the amount of care you still harbor for her, it would be easy to materialize a past version of Constance and use that to trap her instead of using the attic.”

It was sick; it was horrible.

And yet, all of it was perfect.

“So if this goes according to plan, she won’t remember our argument just now, nor will she remember her act of murder?”

“It will all cease to exist for her because she will be trapped in her past.”

“Will she still be plotting for the best time to kill me?” George’s head shuddered again. The thought and precision put into her killing were pure evil. “She thought about it for our entire marriage, I am sure.”

Leota dropped back to her position on the table, no longer floating like an angel. She went silent.

“I cannot be sure. That thought would be associated with the past version of Constance.” The enchantress clicked her tongue. “I suppose it would just exemplify your past life, if she were to remain obsessed with killing you. Besides, you can’t die again. You’re already dead.”

“I’m already dead.”

George was entranced. Women, visions, surrounded him. Supple breasts pressed against his naked chest. Soft red lips kissing his collarbone. The silver hatchet, ruby blood spilling on the carriage cushions. And perhaps there was something to be said about the way George liked Constance’s obsessive mind, her crazed eyes when she got the slightest bit mad.

We’re all a little crazed here, George reasoned. There was no reason to be so attracted to Constance. Leota wore floating curly hair that glowed when she was excited; Constance, a murderess with a disappearing hatchet; even George’s own head had a habit of its own, one that embarrassed him very frequently.

But now Constance’s instability was Hightower’s once again, and he would never have to remember the result of it. The axe would never actually strike him. And if she did attack him, he would not feel the pain, and could quickly ask Leota to reverse the memories so that Constance could perform the entire marriage again. A sickening dance, a staged performance.

He—and she—would be dancing in their memories, forever into the depths of their afterlife.

And Constance would have no escape from George’s perfect life.

[giigil]

how did you start to write? kinda curious to know your trajectory

story time! (really happy you asked, hehe.) note: if anyone's interested in going through my past writings, let me know and i'll probably make a google drive folder lol.

I've been addicted to gaming ever since I was younger and I've always had hyperfixations that would come and go. Middle school was when I realized I had a love for reading books (mainly young adult, romance, fiction + manga) and I used to always spend my time in the school library during my lunch breaks.

2012: I was 13 and almost graduated from middle school. I adored Zelda/Link as a ship so much that I Googled 'Zelda x Link' to look for cute art, only to stumble across a website: Fanfiction.net. Yep. That site.

I read through a couple of stories and found myself hooked. I made an account, and I decided to start writing my own stories.

Super Smash Brothers Brawl had a huge impact on my life and holds a special place in my heart. It was all I'd ever written and thought about when I first started.

( putting a read more to elaborate further on my writing journey. )

Around 2013, though, someone put a wrench on my Fanfiction.net journey by reporting my story -- it wasn't anything horrible, it was just a cringe Truth or Dare fanfiction that someone and their group said was "against" Fanfiction.net rules. That story got deleted, and out of impulse and feeling depressed, I deleted every single fanfiction I'd ever posted on my account.

I deeply regret doing so, because there were so many ideas that I can't look back on because my memory isn't able to recall a whole lot of them.

At least a few weeks after, though, I got onto Tumblr and got into Tumblr roleplaying! Fairy Tail was my next huge fixation and I made a roleplay blog focused on Edo-Cana from the Edolas arc (after I spoke with an Edo-Lucy blog). After I lost my inspiration for Edo-Cana, I moved on to Evergreen, and then Lucy Heartfilia.

I believe I lost interest in roleplaying on Tumblr around 2014.

2014: I was still writing on Fanfiction.net, but as usual, I would delete my fics when they didn't satisfy me. I wrote for a couple of other fandoms ranging from Big Hero Six, Rise of the Guardians/Young Justice, and more. I'd also joined websites like Quotev and Wattpad.

2015: In my junior year of high school, I made a friend who also had an interest in roleplaying. She introduced me to this one roleplaying website which allowed me to continue with writing.

However, as you can probably see, I have the absolutely terrible habit of losing interest in things quickly. I ended up quitting roleplaying due to that.

I also joined Archiveofourown. I don't remember if I'd ever posted anything around the time of joining. This is the one year I don't remember much for.

I also continued to post on Fanfiction.net:

As per usual, it lasted for *almost* a year.

November 10th, 2016 was the last time I ever posted on my Fanfiction.net account.

I had a dry spell when it came to writing for a good year and a half from 2016-2017.

April 21 2017: I played Final Fantasy XV and (it's what I hyperfixated on for a good 2 years). Around April 27-28, I already had a hankering for wanting to write fanfiction for it. I have so many ideas that haven't seen the light of day, and probably never will.

There's so many drafts, mostly unfinished, just sitting in my Google Drive.

August 2018: I posted a Prompto Argentum x Reader fic on archiveofourown, but eventually orphaned it and everything else I had posted.

October 2018: My hyperfixation for Red Dead Redemption 2 started. I thought up of ideas, plotlines, etc.

February 2019: I posted 3 Arthur Morgan x Reader fics. Which, you can probably already guess what the fuck happened to those. *orphaned. woooow.*

March 2019: I swore off writing anything else for my old Fanfiction.net account, and have left all of my fanfiction saved there.

2020-2021: Once more, I stopped writing and focused on trying to get through day by day life considering it was the COVID outbreak and I was only ever working. I never stopped reading fanfiction though. It's what's kept my writing decent -- at least, that's what I feel like. 2020 was when my hyperfixation on Final Fantasy 7/Remake started. I would think up of things.

March 23, 2022: (Not a writing thing, but I like to make note of it.) The start of my hyperfixation on Jujutsu Kaisen and Gojo!

December 2022: I finally posted a fic after so long. Haven't deleted it, and I swear I won't.

January 2023: Wrote my first ever M rated fic for Nero the Sable from Final Fantasy 7 Remake x Reader, and told myself I'd go back to writing. I haven't posted anything else on AO3 since then.

August 11, 2023: I learned of and created an account on character.ai!

September 18, 2023: I started making character.ai bots!

TL;DR:

As you can see, I'm an inconsistent person and have occasional moments of inspiration and eventually get tired of things. There will be times when I need a break from writing, so I apologize if it takes me a bit to get through all of my requests.

[saltysatellite804]

idk how to comfort ppl kindly so I’ll just be blunt and honest. sorry your mind is in such a horrible place, I really am. you’ve probably heard/been told over and over before, but continuing to fixate over ppl who you think left you/don’t care for you anymore takes up a lot of emotion, energy, or effort that could otherwise be put into getting to know new ppl in a different fandom who: have no idea who you are, aka you come in as a completely blank slate to them. they don’t hate you. I, as someone who barely knows you or situation, objectively don’t care about these ppl who don’t care for you anymore, especially if they’re bringing you feelings of pain at the very thought. somehow, somewhere, find brand new strangers, don’t mention yourself negatively (wrestle that urge tackle it into the ground), and give them the opportunity to get to form judgements of you themselves. how does one even go about doing that? idk, but for me, all the connections I’ve ever made online (and I Only have “online friends”) were mostly me finding a small fandom or rarepair and then pouring honesty into the comments section of the fics and waiting to see if any of these strangers connect back. the more comments that focus on them and the material—the less I think about myself. and also the more comments, the bigger the chance is that 1 out of those… idk, 50 fic authors reach out to you and conversations get started. insert yourself into other ppls lives and take up space. spend time initiating conversations in spaces where replies actually have a chance of happening instead of shouting into a void that is a void due to the nature of the context—honestly, nobody replies to tumblr texts posts unless you’re a big name fan, nobody ever replies to mine, LOL. kind of personal, but I was totally alone and had neurotic thoughts for a spell, but over the last 3(?) years,a little bit of self-initiative and a little bit of coincidence and a lot of time on ao3 put me in spaces with fandom… friends? acquaintances? that I couldn’t have imagined in 2018 or whenever. I see your posts. I don’t know what to say. I’m also a nobody out here. I don’t know what you need exactly, but obviously there’s a lot of things that you don’t have control over. idk if you feel like everything I’m saying is garbage, in which case I’m sorry… you can just toss this out/delete it. also sorry for the huge block of text! I’m on my phone and formatting is a chore for stream of conscious thoughts. I think tumblr isn’t a good medium for talking to ppl and getting convos started. I never seem to be able to hold one on this app. but also I’m the type of person that doesn’t reach out to other ppl. but that’s not because I don’t care about my “friends.” reaching out is awkward and hard I usually skip past the pleasantries and straight into the point anyway. I’m selfish in conversations; I only initiate thoughts that I’m interested in. but I’ll reply to anyone. but as you can see, I’m on anon bc I’m painfully shy and not sure how you’ll receive this and I’m self-conscious enough to not want you, someone who is mostly a stranger, to hate me. after all, you didn’t seem to respond to that other anon very well. someone reached out to you! but your reply once again emphasized your own loneliness and feelings of neurotic self-hatred/self-deprecation. did you feel any joy at all in receiving that anon? I’m not sure who they are, but they also did the painful, awkward, and hard thing of reaching out to a stranger struggling on the internet. did you ignore the fact that behind that anon, there was a person who was at least a little bit concerned for you? I wonder who they were. do you? I’m no good at this, and I don’t know if anything would help you right now. I don’t have all the free time in the world, and I’m typing this on my commute home from classes. when I get home I’m going to have dinner, do homework, go to bed, then wake up and go to classes again tmr morning; I only reply to texts when I have the energy. I hope things get better for you. or that you, yourself, makes things better, somehow?

I didnt mean my reply as an attack on that anon. I don't really know what to say. I spend so much energy just fighting to get away from the thoughts and its exhausting and sometimes I fail. I cannot just poof them away. It's not like I dont try.

It's hard to just stop thinking about the people I cared about. It's like a gaping hole in me.

I'm sorry for how I sounded.

I dont hate anyone on tumblr dot com. And I dont take anons in bad faith unless they're obviously trolling.

I mean this in a non-aggressive non-blamey way, but it is really hard to be told I deserve happiness from anons or people who can otherwise quickly wash their hands of me. Again. Not blaming anyone. Please do not take that wrong. If my brain would let me, I could be far more appreciative, but it is hard for me and that is why.

I've always sucked at communicating.

Also, non-important, but I dont have any desire to find new fandoms. I do not think I have the capacity to be a blank slate. Nor do I feel particularly like the person who could make friends anymore because of how much I've been hurt. This guilt crawls in and the second I show my ass, it's all over. I've done the dance since I started posting online. It's only lately I've completely lost everything.

And that's on top of all the shit in my real life.

Everyone has their own problems and I really do want to stop caring if I'm alone because that's just how life is for the most part. I do not want to be a burden, and ironically I'm making things worse and turning into one against my own will. I do not know why it's so hard. It would just be nice if I had someone to take my hand and say "let's watch a movie together" or you know. The internet equivalent.

Again. No hate. No blame. I just do not know how to communicate.

[scribe-of-elysium]

Quietus - Status Update - June 2022

Readers waiting for the next chapter may have noticed that it’s approaching almost 2 months now since my last update. A long time for me!

Due to lock-down ending, and busy life resuming at a very fast pace, I’ve had little free time to write (proof is me posting this at a ridiculous hour I'm normally asleep at). The lack of time will continue over the summer. I’m now back to full-time office hours, and when I’m not working on weekends or my days off, my time is spent mostly outdoors. Writing has unfortunately dropped way down my priority list, as was the case before lock-down. For a while, I was forcing myself to make time in order to maintain a regular update schedule in my eagerness to complete, including writing late nights and early mornings, but that resulted in me placing a lot of unnecessary pressure on myself, and that’s something I can’t and won’t continue to do, for the sake of my mental and physical well-being.

A huge amount of content has been put out over the last two years since the pandemic began. I picked up Quietus from the point just after Sakura had first returned to the surface, and have now reached the beginning of the very last arc. Since I had a lot of free time to write during lock-down/remote working, I also had a lot of motivation to keep writing.

Unfortunately, I now have neither the time or the motivation/inspiration to continue at the regular pace I’ve been working at over the last two years. The final arc requires a lot of dedicated time, effort and concentration, and I can’t set aside those things right now. It’s the most difficult arc, because it contains the build up to the ending, and a lot of complicated battle scenes, as well as the resolution of all plot points, all of which need to be executed right. Not rushed or sloppily written.

I feel under pressure to deliver the ending right, and to the highest standard. I’ve also gotten frustrated by how never-ending the story feels in terms of how demanding it is. Maybe that’s another reason, besides lack of time, that I have not actively pushed myself to schedule in even short writing slots week after week. This last arc is intimidating and overwhelming, not just because of all the characters, events, development and plot I need to juggle. Quietus, to me, isn’t just any fanfic; it’s been a special project I’ve been working on for over a decade. It’s been a distraction and comfort through some very difficult years, a story I’ve really poured a lot of love into, and I owe it to myself, and the crazy time and effort and thought I have invested into the story, to not mess the plot up in its final stages just because I’m really impatient to be done with it.

For this reason, after consideration, I’ve decided I will be withholding on writing and releasing future chapters. This means the story will be ‘on hold’ until further notice after the next chapter is updated.

This does NOT mean I intend to abandon it. I’ve felt tempted to stop. It would be easier and kinder to me. You can’t even imagine how much planning and energy a story of this scale requires to continue. I’d feel like an absolute failure if I dropped it for good though, and I hate starting something I don’t finish. I also know how horrible it would be for readers to be left without an ending. But I need to see it through to the end for myself, before anything or anyone else. Or at the very least, take it as far as I can go before it feels absolutely impossible to carry on with it. Right now it’s difficult - but not impossible.

It’s disappointing, being so close to the ending, that I have to stop and lose momentum now, but I’d rather place it on pause and work on it slowly as and when I can, giving it my full attention as it deserves, than carry on half-heartedly and rush it to completion.

I’m also aware there are many readers who have fallen behind. Whether they were waiting for the fic to end before reading the rest, or simply haven’t been able to find the time to read, delaying releases gives them a chance to catch up, if they wish to do so. The general drop in reader views/feedback over the last chapters suggests that might be the case. If so, then a delay is beneficial, given most people appear to not be caught up anyway.

The next chapter is about 75% done, so readers will have another chapter (or possibly two, if I complete and split the rest of it) uploaded before I place the story on a formal hiatus. Updates after that will be fewer and farther between, and will likely be posted in bulk chapters of 2-3, until I reach completion. Writing continuously without feeling the pressure to stop and upload is better for me. I’ll see how it goes. Maybe if my motivation, energy/time and inspiration return sooner, things might change again, but for the foreseeable, no further new content will be released after the next chapter.

Though I will be on hiatus from writing for Quietus, I'd still love to have feedback and hear from my readers during this period, including from those who are behind and have yet to catch up to the latest chapters.

Thank you to everyone who is still on board for being so supportive and understanding.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*  

[silversatoru]

hi!! i just started followed you and i love your works :)) could i request a smutty fushiguro megumi drabble/fic where he realizes he has a daddy kink?

daddy?

a/n: hi you are so sweet thank you!!! n the idea of megumi realizing he has a daddy kink is so fucking cute lmao i have been losing my mind over this idea,,,

fushiguro megumi x f!reader

synopsis: you call a classmate daddy in order to smuggle some homework answers and accidentally awaken a full blown daddy kink in your usually shy boyfriend

tags/warnings: daddy kink (obviously), mild manhandling, fingering

w/c: 1.6k

you really thought people would be more mature when you got to college,, or at least you hoped they would be. unfortunately, you’ve never been more wrong.

you had the most annoying busy-work assignment due tomorrow — and of course it wasn’t hard, but it was just so damn time consuming and you didn’t feel like doing it. but this is where the class group chat you were in comes in handy; you planned to ask if anyone had the answers but someone else had already beat you to it.

and then some cocky asshole who did the homework agreed to send the answers under one condition: he wanted someone to call him daddy. it was so stupid and horribly immature but this wasn’t any cocky asshole; it was a smart cocky asshole, and his answers were definitely reliable.

now, you weren’t a desperate woman, but this homework was a real pain in the ass and daddy was nothing but a word — so why not?

pls send the answers daddy, your thumbs danced across your phone and hit send before you could even think twice. a few moments later a picture of all the assignment answers came through the chat — success.

and now you could go enjoy a night out with your friends instead of wasting your time on that pointless shit. your boyfriend megumi had been waiting outside for you in his car, ready to pick you up and go to a house party a few streets up. neither of you were big party people but when your best friends nobara and yuuji were the ones throwing the party, you were obligated to attended.

megumi seemed a little off when you first hopped in the passengers seat, his facial features even more stoic than they usually were. you tried starting conversation a few times, but it was to no avail. something was clearly bothering him but he was refusing to talk about it — and then it finally clicked in your head:

“oh my god! this is about the daddy thing isn’t it?” you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing when you realized megumi was in that group chat too.

his eyes rolling in annoyance and his continued silence was all you needed to confirm your theory.

“come on, gumi, i was just getting the assignment answers so we could have fun tonight,” you pouted.

“yeah i know, i just don’t really like you saying that kind of stuff to other people,” he finally spoke up, his eyebrows scrunched together in distaste.

“fine, you’re right, i shouldn’t have done it. but it’s not like you have a fucking daddy kink or anything, so relax a little,” you let out a sigh and leaned back into the seat.

and he silently agreed with you — there was no way that he had a daddy kink, right?

the rest of the car ride was mildly awkward but some of the tension between the two of you had finally settled. you wrapped your hand in his as the two of you entered the house, greeting a couple friends on the way in.

after grabbing some drinks and hanging around the entrance for a few minutes you released megumi’s hand from your own.

“i’m gonna go find nobara quick, okay? try to relax and enjoy yourself a little bit,” you flashed him a smile and then stood up on your toes so you could whisper the next part into his ear, “see you in a few, daddy”.

you figured that if the word bothered him so much when you said it to other people, you’d like see how he’d react when you said it to him. and it took everything in you not to burst into a fit of laughter when you saw the stunned look across his face.

you were laughing, but megumi found your comment to be anything but funny. his heart rate quickened and suddenly his jeans felt tight and — oh fuck, maybe he did have a daddy kink.

he grabbed your wrist and yanked you down the hall, pulling you into a guest bedroom and locking the door behind him. you couldn’t contain yourself when you started to connect the dots — his shocked expression and the obvious boner in his pants made it very clear.

“holy shit, gumi, you do have a daddy kink don’t you?” you giggled, reaching up to wrap your hands around his neck.

he gave you an annoyed and embarrassed look, as if he was ashamed of it or something. but you couldn’t let him feel like that, not when the idea excited you just as much as it excited him.

“you want me to call you daddy? hm? moan it into your ears and beg for you? we could try it right now; that is why you drug me into this room, right?” you caressed the side of his flushed face, his eyes getting darker the more you spoke.

he gave you a quick nod and then the two of you collided together, messy kisses being scattered from your lips to your collarbone and everywhere in between. megumi was slow to start but once you had him going there was no holding him back. he broke off the kiss after a few heated minutes and before you could even catch your breath he gave you a rough shove that sent you falling to the bed.

he stared down at you with a brand new fire in his eyes, and it was fucking hot. if you knew calling someone random guy daddy would have awakened this in him, you would have done it forever ago.

in a matter of minutes his skin was hot against yours, your clothes nothing but a heap on the floor. his kisses were sloppy and rough, his head clouded with lust as he relished in his newfound turn-on. he wanted to have complete control over you, he wanted you to beg him for everything, and he wanted to hear you whimper the word daddy over and over.

he snaked two of his long fingers down to your clit and rubbed a few rough circles that made your legs twitch in anticipation. they then lowered to your entrance, his eyes widening when he felt the amount of slick that had already accumulated. you felt a warm redness flush across your face in slight embarrassment — it was kind of pathetic how quickly his shift in attitude went straight to between your legs.

knowing that you liked his newfound dominance sent a whole new wave of confidence coursing through megumi. his usually gentle fingers slid through your entrance with an entirely new force, causing your core to clench and your breath to catch in your throat. a disgusting array of squelches and moans quickly filled the air, your hands desperately grasping onto megumi’s body. he was delving his fingers deep into your caverns at a completely merciless pace and it was earning him the prettiest moans from your mouth.

“feels so good, gumi,” you mumbled as he had you squirming and whining underneath him.

“no- no i want you to say the other thing,” he pressed his forehead to yours and let his eyes rest shut as he savored every last one of your beautiful sounds.

you’d gotten so caught up in the pure bliss that was megumi’s touch that you’d completely forgotten about how this all started — the daddy kink. but now that he reminded you, you were gonna lean into it hard. you wanted to put on only the best performance for your wonderful boyfriend.

“your fingers feel so good, daddy, but your cock would feel better,” you cooed in his ear, sending electricity down his spine and straight to his dick.

“is that what you want?” he leaned back and opened his eyes to look at you, sliding his sticky fingers out of your soaking cunt.

“yes, daddy, please,” you begged for him, “i want you to fuck me”.

you could have swore you saw his dick twitch and his eyes get wide at your words, but you hardly had time to think about it before his two slimy fingers were shoved into your mouth. you shameless sucked them clean, running your tongue around and between them while megumi used his other hand to position himself at your entrance.

you flinched at the slight pain when he sheathed himself inside you — your body taking it’s time to adjust to the size. sure his fingers felt good, but you felt so much fucking fuller with his cock stretching your walls. the way he thrusted stuffed you so perfectly that you could barely even form words, your eyes rolling back into your head.

the two of you had sex on many occasions, but there was fresh intensity and passion flowing between you this time. your fingernails were digging claw marks into his arms and you could barely contain the array of moans leaking from your lips. between your noises and the creaking off the bed you were grateful for the loud music blaring through the house.

megumi even manhandled you a bit more than usual — tossing you around and pushing you into the positions he wanted you in. if he managed to work up the confidence he’d order you around too, and you’d just respond with whines and the occasional “yes, daddy”. the phrase was simple but every time those words left your pretty mouth tiny fireworks went off in his head.

when he murmured the words come for me, you were hopeless — a pitiful, whimpering mess who couldn’t do anything but mumble incoherent phrases all stemming from the word daddy.

it was the best fucking orgasm of your life — and it was all because you’d been too lazy to do your homework earlier.

[tomurasprincess]

Kinktober Day 24: Monster (The Asylum)

Day 24: Monster Title: The Asylum Pairing: Mothman Shigaraki x Reader Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: Noncon, monster mind control stuff, oviposition, cumflation, belly bulges, breeding, forced orgasms, some slight descriptions of gore and blood, yandere Note: The Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum is a real place, although parts of what I wrote is fake, mostly the part where they close down a second time in the fic. IRL, they’re still open and doing tours. Tagging @ichor-and-symbiosis​ and @kazooli​ as two of the OG Mothura writers 👀

Sequel: The Brood

Kinktober Masterlist

You’ve always loved urban exploring, going to old mental asylums and hospitals to look around and see the decay of places that used to be so bustling with people. You especially liked the places that had tragic pasts, the ones where horrific things occurred. It sounds morbid to anyone you talk to about your interests, but it was the truth. You’ve always believed in monsters and ghosts just out of sight of humanity, lurking in the dark corners of abandoned places.

That’s why you instantly planned a trip to the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum the second you heard about it. It had been abandoned years ago due to extreme abuse of patients. A historical society had moved in later, renovating the place and making a history tour of it that also did ghost tours at night.

But even they ended up abandoning the place due to the fake ghost tours apparently starting to become real ghost tours. People began to see creatures out of the corner of their eyes, something they said was much larger than a human, with wings on its back and piercing red eyes.

It was initially dismissed as overactive imaginations, people who wanted to see ghosts so badly that they were seeing things that weren’t there. Or people who just wanted to start tall tales  for attention and were flat out making things up in order to scare the rest of the group.

But then the disappearances started to happen. It was almost always young women who got separated from the tour group, although a few times it was a boyfriend and girlfriend who got lost together. The tour guides scoured every inch of the asylum looking for the missing people, but they found no trace of them. At first it was dismissed as the people getting scared and running off without telling anybody.

Until one day, a regularly scheduled tour group stumbled across the bodies. Not the bodies of the missing girls, but their partners. They were viciously torn apart, with limbs scattered all over the room. Their blood covered the walls, the floor, even the ceiling of the room. The women were alive but traumatized, rocking back and forth in a corner of the room absolutely covered in blood, none of which was their own.

They told the same tales that the rest of the people did. They were captured by a monster, around 8-9 feet tall, with large moth-like wings and red eyes. The creature was surprisingly gentle to them, they said, at least until they saw that they were with someone. The creature had become enraged, tearing their partner to pieces as they watched. They knew for certain that they would be next, their eyes squeezed tight as they waited for their death.

But the creature did nothing, simply turning away and leaving the room like they were not what the creature wanted.

Although everyone agreed that something horrible had happened to the young women, none of them believed their story. They had stayed in that room for several days, covered in the blood of their loved ones, not knowing if they were ever going to make it out. Of course they were traumatized, thinking they saw monsters. But monsters aren’t believed to exist, and so everyone began to look for a human murderer that was never found.

The asylum tried to recover from the tragedy, but it was never able to. The amount of bad press they got for having lax safety standards and not taking care of their tour groups caused everybody to stay away. Finally, having no other choice in the matter, the asylum had closed.

When you heard this story, you were over the moon excited. Not just a historical landmark, but also a place with a possible real life monster sighting. Nothing was going to stop you from going there and seeing the place for yourself.

And now here you stand, in front of the building with a backpack full of supplies slung over your shoulder. You had your phone, flashlights with spare batteries, a spare change of clothes, matches and lighters, even a rope and various other tools should something happen inside of the building.

And so, with a deep excitement bubbling up in your stomach, you find your way through a hole in the fence and walk through the front door. The first thing you see is the reception desk with various odds and ends left over from the closure. There are even still brochures describing the various types of tours and listing prices.

You walk down the first corridor you see, going past various closed off rooms that look to be basic examination rooms. There is surprisingly little decay, mostly everything still looking rather clean and intact besides a thick layer of dust and cobwebs covering everything. You’re a bit discouraged but decide to continue on to see if things get more interesting.

After all, the murders occured in the basement, and you’re not anywhere close to that yet.

Soon you find yourself in the medical ward where the patients were kept, and you instantly realize one of the reasons this hospital was so nightmarish. The rooms are even smaller than jail cells, leaving barely enough space for patients to lay down in. There are so many rooms of that exact size that you wonder how the staff could accurately take care of the amount of patients there had to be. But you remember your research, remember the fact that they couldn’t.

That was why so many brutal procedures were performed such as lobotomies, in order to keep the peace at the asylum and make things easier for the doctors and nurses. You give a quick shudder and begin to move on, feeling a strange sensation that you desperately want to get away from.

The decay gets worse and worse the closer you get to the basement, rust and decay beginning to cover every surface you see. You walk past some of the surgery rooms and feel horror at the utensils and instruments you see in them. The historical society tried to keep things as accurate as possible, and as such, they had kept most of the equipment that you would see back in those days.

You’re beginning to wonder if this is a good idea, as that strange sensation continues to worsen and worsen. You realize with a start what this feeling actually is.

It feels like someone is watching your every movement. You whirl around, shining your flashlight in every direction as you try to see what’s watching you. But there’s nothing but darkness and the decaying walls of the hospital. You shake your head, laughing quietly at the fact that you’re spooked out by a few weird shadows and an odd feeling.

You’re not going to let it stop you from your goal, however, and you continue forwards until you get to the doors of the basement. The feeling here is overwhelming, simultaneously telling you to run and move forward all at the same time. The conflicting emotions leave you off balance and light headed, and you reach your hand out instinctively when you sway on your feet. You touch a section of the wall and instantly pull your hand back.

The wall is warm, not cold like it should be. A sense of unease crawls up your spine, and you decide then and there that it’s time to go. Making it to the basement is not worth this, whatever it is you’re feeling. But then you hear a soft humming and the flapping of wings, coming from deep within the basement of the hospital.

Instead of being terrified, however, you feel entranced. It’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever heard, and it’s calling you. You open the basement door without even thinking about it, walking down the stairs in a dreamy haze. You don’t even pay attention to how heavy the rot here is, how the walls are entirely blackened by decay that spreads out like veins on a body.

You don’t pay attention when the door slams closed behind you, locking you in with whatever is calling you closer. All you can think about is getting to that beautiful sound, that lonely haunting call that seems to burrow deep into your brain. You walk as if you’re in a trance, turning corridors that you’ve never seen before but somehow know where they’re going.

Finally, you get to a door that is deep within the bowels of the basement, a bright red door that seems to beckon you inside. You push open the door with no hesitation, walking through and letting it close behind you.

And you finally come face to face with the creature. He is about 9 feet tall, towering over your small form. He’s not overly muscular, but he has a thin wiry look to him that says he is deceptively strong. His red eyes bore into you like they’re staring directly into your soul. On his back are two massive wings, spread to their full wing span and utterly gorgeous.

The creature makes a small chittering noise as he motions you towards him, and you follow like he’s a puppeteer holding your strings. He pulls you tightly into his body, burying his nose into your neck and taking a deep whiff of your skin. His hot breath on your sensitive skin pulls a shudder from you. and he tightens his grip as if he’s worried you’ll get away.

A long tongue pokes out of his mouth, licking at the pulse point that is frantically beating. “Mine,” he groans into your skin, sharp teeth grazing you. “Mate.” You’re lifted up off your feet before being laid down on the ground, hips in the air and face down on the floor. He rips your pants off easily, leaving your panties on as he lowers his head down. You feel a flash of embarrassment as he sniffs them like he sniffed your neck, groaning again as his tongue drags across the wet abric. “Fertile,” he whispers as he pulls your panties aside, “fertile mate.”

The haze parts from your mind long enough for you to feel a sharp flash of fear, and then his tongue is lapping at your folds and the fear is quickly chased away again. You dig your nails into the floor as you feel him work his tongue inside of you, using it to fuck you like a cock would. You gasp when he hits your cervix with his tongue and keeps going, wiggling against the barrier like he’s trying to break through it.

Something in his saliva causes your body to heat up and your muscles to loosen enough for him to batter his tongue harder against you and push through. Your scream echoes through the walls of the room, but not of pain. Instead, a fierce pleasure overtakes you as your cervix gives way to the creature’s tongue, allowing him to enter into your womb.

The feeling of this tongue wiggling around in your empty womb causes you to tip over the edge and cum around the creature’s tongue as he eagerly laps at your juices. He withdraws his tongue, causing you to let out a whine of disappointment, only to be surprised when you feel something prodding at your entrance. It doesn’t feel like a human cock at all, with ridges and bumps along the length and much thicker than a human cock would be.

You have a single moment to wonder how it will fit inside of you before it’s pushing in, stretching out your tight outer ring of muscles and causing a sharp burning in your lower stomach. You whine and try to pull away, only for the creature to let out a snarl as claws dig into your hips, causing your blood to drip down onto the pavement.

Even though there is no pain, only more pleasure, you learn your lesson and don’t try to move away as the thick cock slides even further into you. It’s so much thicker than anything you’ve ever taken before, and you’re shaking like a leaf when he finally bottoms out inside. You think he’ll start thrusting like a human male would, except that he doesn’t.

He keeps pushing, humping into you with sharp movements designed to force your cervix open even further. You squeal as the cock makes it past the barrier, burying deep inside of your womb. You glance down and let out a choked sob at the bulge in your stomach where the tip of the creature’s cock is.

“Pretty - pretty mate,” the creature says hesitantly, rolling his hips experimentally into you and drawing a groan from your throat. “Tomura,” he adds, and it takes you a second to realize that’s the creature’s name.

“Tomura,” you murmur, and the creature chitters happily at the sound of your voice saying the name. You try to think of something else to ask, maybe even to beg to be released as the haze seems to clear a bit, but Tomura begins to hum again, and you instantly smile in bliss as all of your concern fades away.

You feel something else pushing into your entrance, and it takes a long moment to realize what it is as you feel it slip up your stretched out tunnel.

Eggs. The creature is filling you with eggs. Instead of being horrified, however, you moan as they continue to move inside of you. There are multiple eggs at once, small and gooey, and they coat your insides with wetness as they make their way to your still stretched out cervix.

You feel them pass through the opening to plop down into your womb, and you cry out and cum hard, pussy wildly fluttering around Tomura’s cock. He lets out a deep grunt of pleasure as he rocks his hips against you, and you feel more eggs pushing into you. This time, a few of them get stuck against a spongy spot inside of you, and you scream out your orgasm, legs shaking and eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Fuck, oh god, shit, Tomura - “ you babble mindlessly as more eggs push into you, “it feels so good, why does it - “

Before those eggs can push fully in, there are already more entering you, and you feel so incredibly full. They drop down into your no longer empty womb, wringing another orgasm from your tired body. The skin of your stomach is stretching, making you look bloated, and Tomura still isn’t done.

You lose track of time completely, only aware of your body twitching and convulsing as more and more eggs push up into you, settling into your womb with the rest of them. Your stomach already looks 9 months pregnant, and you can barely hold yourself up.

Tomura sees this, and he gently picks you up and lays you down on your back. “Pretty mate,” he leans and kisses your forehead, “look so good with my children. Our children.”

“Oh god, no more, please no more, I’m so full Tomura,” you whimper as more eggs push into you. “Please, so full - “

Tomura hums softly at you, and you smile with bliss as the final eggs plop down into your womb.  His movements become more savage, thrusting hard into you as he grunts and groans. The force of his thrusts has you sliding up, breasts bouncing and your belly jiggling. The feeling of the eggs moving around inside of you has you howling out your orgasm, blackness dotting the edge of your vision as you almost lose consciousness.

Finally, Tomura is finished, and his cock begins to twitch inside of you as hot ropes of cum fill you up, shooting directly into your womb where the eggs reside. You sob as you watch your stomach bulge out even more as the creature’s cum fertilizes the eggs inside. You can no longer see the dents and valleys of the eggs along your stomach, and you reach down to gently run your hand over your bloated stomach.

You can feel the eggs through the barrier of skin, and it causes your eyes to roll back at the pleasure. Tomura gives a soft, happy chirp as he places his hand over yours on your belly, rubbing it gently. He pulls out slowly, causing a mixture of your cum and his to gush out of your now gaping pussy.

He reaches down to pick you up as he walks towards a door in the back of the room that you hadn’t noticed before. You’re shocked by what you see when you walk through. It’s an utterly untouched room, still looking brand new and with none of the decay that covers the rest of the basement. There is no bed, but there is a pile of clean blankets and pillows in the corner, piled up high and in a circle.

A nest, you realize. It’s a nest. For you. He tucks you in gently, chirping again as his clawed hand runs over your pregnant belly. “Mate,” he says happily, “my pretty little mate.” He stands up and walks towards the door, turning to you one last time as his gaze narrows and darkens just a bit.

“No running. Don’t want to have to tie mate down.” He continues to gaze at you, as if waiting for something.

“I won’t run,” you say quietly, and the dark look on his face is gone instantly as he beams at you.

“Good mate, good.” And with that, he’s gone.

With his absence, some of the haze lifts and you’re able to realize the horror of the situation you’re in. Nobody knows where you are, and you’re trapped. Even if you wanted to run, you don’t think you could with how large your belly is. No escape and no help coming for you, and the creature already seems so possessive of you that he’s not going to let you easily escape.

If only you had listened to your instincts earlier, if only you hadn’t been so fascinated with the grotesque, if only you had simply chosen to stay home.

You’ve always believed in monsters. You just never thought you would find one.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

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