#like temptation wasn’t bad but it was boring

[princebeomgyu]

maybe a hot take but i think hybe should just let txt write and produce their own music from now on because it’d be better

[doctor-dusk]

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭.

the best way to sort things out with your teacher.

warnings: oral and fingering (f receiving), age gap (not mentioned), a bit of angst, fluff too. 

word count: 4.5k

part. 1

for those who were waiting (a total of three people lol), part 2 is finally here. sorry for the delay, i really had a hard time finishing it, so i'm sorry if it sucks :')

one week has passed since mr. turner was at your apartment.

and in the meantime, you only saw him once on campus. 

he was like a shadow of a rat, sneaking through the rooms and holes, scared of being caught. 

yeah, scared. who ever thought that such a self-confident teacher could act like this?

as long as he hates to admit, he was acting like a fucking rat. he didn't want to look at you, didn't want to fall in temptation again. he didn’t want to see how hurt you were that he was ignoring you like this. 

oh, and how hurt you were. 

on the one hand, you understood. you knew it was wrong, that it was unconventional. but it happened. and you couldn't shake his image no matter how many times you tried. just as you couldn't help but look for him either. 

the only time you saw him during the week, right before you had a class with him, was when you were at the campus cafeteria. you were drinking some macchiato and reading an article.

you were so distracted that you didn't even notice that a few meters away, outside the cafeteria, exactly in the middle of an intersection between one corridor and another, he was looking at you. 

surreptitiously, obviously. especially because he couldn't keep his gaze fixed because one of his colleagues was talking to him. he nodded, looked at her and exchanged a few words about what he had understood. but his eyes always stopped on you.

oh, such a dickhead. 

“so, what are you doing next weekend, al?" she asked him, watching him shake his head.

“not sure. maybe rewatch breaking bad or something.” he shrugged, turner didn't really like making plans for the weekend, precisely because he liked the idea of ​​staying at home.

“phew, so boring.” she answered him. he looked away, seeing the exact moment you looked around a little, which forced him to look back at his colleague. “tell you what, my cousin is coming to spend a few days here, doing some tourism in the city, etc. we can arrange a dinner, i think you'll like her.”

“i don’t know, lilian.’’ he simply responded. he wasn't very interested.

''c’mon, al. you've been divorced for a long time, it's time for you to find someone else.''

alex knew that lilian didn't say that out of spite. she just worried about him being alone. i mean, single. it didn't mean he wasn't capable of getting someone for one-night stand and leave without having to report back the next day. oh, that happened often.

‘’i’m fine, thanks for your concern.’’ he forced a smile. he didn’t want to be rude to her. 

and even if he went to a possible dinner, met her cousin, maybe they could fuck later in his flat, would that be enough?

would he want to wake up next to her the next morning? would he want to make her breakfast, or take her for a walk in the park? would he be slowly dying just to see her again? would he look every corner possible looking for her just to catch a glimpse of her walking?

he didn't think so. he knew better.

‘’but i'll think about it, alright? i'll let you know if i change my mind.’’ he replied again.

‘’we’ve been here before.’’ she laughed through her nose, patting his shoulder. it wasn’t the first time that alex said it. and he rarely changed his mind. ‘’but think about it, she seems like enough fun for you.’’

he gave a nod, excusing himself right after, saying he had to be in class now.

on the other side, you looked around once more. you didn’t know exactly what you were looking for. maybe your mind was so dizzy that you were having a hard time paying attention to what you were reading. it was already the third time you were reading that same paragraph.

and then, you saw him. 

walking down the hallway as if in a hurry. fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of the brown leather briefcase. his fluffy hair was a bit messy, but it wasn't like he needed to fix it. in fact, it suited him.

he looked thoughtful. in fact, he always seemed that way. as if he was always caught in a chain of thoughts, always serious and methodical. but you were still able to see some softness amid the hard lines of expression on that face.

you followed him with your eyes, hoping he would look back at you, even if it was for a millisecond. you wanted that adrenaline rush from those ebony eyes in your direction, wanted to feel that warmth as if your body was on fire from the inside out. you just wanted his attention. you just wanted him.

but no, he didn't look back at you. 

he fought until the last second. he didn't want to give you hope. or give himself some hope. he couldn’t.

and there you are. on his class. sitting on your usual spot.

turner didn't bother to prepare an elaborate class. he wasn't in the mood for that. all he did was explain the topic in twenty minutes and ask the class to write an essay, pretending to be busy scribbling on some assessment tests he had in his briefcase.

the whole class remained like this, glancing when the other wasn't looking. he really tried not to look up at you, but it was difficult. you had his eyes on you the whole time, so it wouldn’t be any different now.

class ended early. turner dismissed the class and got up to erase what he wrote on the board. he heard the footsteps towards the door, some ‘’until next time’’ of some students, who he responded to by saying the same thing, or just with a nod.

but somehow, he knew you're still there. he felt your presence there, like something stuck in his teeth.

and indeed you were there. you hadn't moved a muscle since you put your stuff in your backpack, just waiting for the classroom to be empty so you could have a moment with him or try to have one. you wanted to understand, at least.

‘’class is over, miss.’’ he said, still with his back to you, finishing erasing the board.

‘’why are you ignoring me?’’ you asked directly, your eyes were staring at your hands in your lap, but lifted when you saw that he stopped erasing the board.

‘’i'm not ignoring ya'. we're talking now, aren't we?’’ he replied and felt like punching himself in the face. why didn't he know how to give you a normal answer? an answer you deserve.

‘’you know what i'm talking about. you... walked away.’’ you said, seeing him turn to look at you. for the first time he had the courage to look at you. he felt melancholy and longing when looking at you.

he was silent for a moment. he didn't want it to be like this. he felt he was to blame for this. and he could barely bear to see the look in your eyes.

‘’i'm sorry, darling. i didn't mean to.’’ he said, leaning his lower back on the edge of his desk. ‘’i'm just…’’

you stood up when you saw he was struggling with his own words. you take a few steps, getting in front of him. oh, how you miss this closeness.

‘’you just what?’’ you asked. you didn't want to pressure him, but you wanted to understand why he was running away. ‘’i know that wasn't the most ethical thing in the world, but…’’

‘’it wasn't, but it was good. i liked it, i really liked it.’’ he said, feeling his saliva go down his throat like needles. you felt your heart beating like a drum. ‘’but…’’ 

he looked down, avoiding your gaze, but you cupped his face with your hands, it was like your hands were made to fit in there. the bone structure of his face was perfect. you made him look at you, feeling his hands close around your wrists, but it wasn't like he was going to pull you away. he loved your touch, how soft your skin was.

‘’you don't need to be nervous. we can talk about this. i just want to understand you and what you're feeling.’’

he felt frozen in place. maybe because he had never thought he would come across something like this, especially with you. he felt vulnerable, but he felt comfortable with you. he felt safe.

‘’i don't think this is the best place to talk about this.’’ he murmured, his thumbs tracing circles on your wrists, his touch as soft as a piano note.

you nodded. someone might come through the open door and check on you both. it was a bit risky. but you needed to sort it out. it was killing you inside. 

“i can come to your place if you want. at 7pm. maybe 8pm.” he said when he noticed that you were silent for too long. 

you kept silent for a little more. you were afraid he was lying. that he was just saying this so you would let him go, and ultimately you would be left waiting for a knock on your door that will never come.

“i want to solve this as much as you do." he said when he noticed your hesitation, rubbing his thumbs on your wrists again, his touch was very smooth. “i'll be there, darlin’. i promise.”

“okay.” you smiled softly, your fingers rubbed his jaw one last time before pulling away. you wanted to kiss him, but it doesn't feel right at the moment. 

you picked up your backpack, looking at him one last time before leaving the classroom, making sure he looked at you until the moment you disappeared from his field of vision.

it was already past 8pm. turner simply hated tuesdays because he was limited to spending the entire day on campus, including at night when he had to teach a single class to an extra class.

and more than that, he hated the idea of ​​making you wait when he promised you he would be there.

he was racing against time, hoping you hadn’t given up. and well, no matter how late it was, you were still there, glancing at your door while pretending to be entertained by an old western movie. still clinging to the slightest hope that he would show up.

and when you heard the four knocks on your door, everything seemed to disappear. your feet acted on automatic, running to the door before he could even think of a way to apologize. you opened the door, finally seeing him there in front of you, a sight for sore eyes. like always.

he took a moment to absorb the relief at seeing that you were willing to see him before opening his mouth to say something.

‘’listen, i’m so sorry-’’

you didn't let him finish, clashing your lips against his with a voracity that even you didn't know where it came from, your mind wasn't acting with all its sanity. but who said you had sanity around him?

without thinking twice, he deepened the kiss, kissing you gently, almost reverently, moving his lips against yours in a slow move while your hands cupped his face, feeling his short beard tickling your palms, but you liked that feeling. you parted the kiss, for a moment thinking that this wasn't a good idea at first.

‘’i'm sorry, i... couldn’t help it-’’

he interrupted you, kissing you again, his lips parting so he could slide his tongue into your mouth in a deep, almost sensual way. his kiss tasted like black coffee, just like you already imagined. one of his hands resting on the back of your head while the other rested on the small of your back, bringing you closer to him. it was like you were some kind of addiction he didn’t know he had. or he knew, but he didn't want to admit it out loud.

‘’class took longer than expected, i didn't meant to make you wait.’’ he said after breaking the kiss, his breath coming out in soft pants as your hand reached for the door for you to close it with a light push.

‘’but you're here, aren't you?’’ you let out a shy, maybe a pathetic smile for thinking about it. you had him there with you, the man who invaded your most erotic dreams and made you think about things that you would never say out loud, not even to your best friend.

“i am.” 

another kiss unfolded, you didn't care what you needed to talk about, if you had something to work out. all you thought about was him, how enveloping his kiss was and how his hands seemed to touch you in the right places as if he knew you like the back of his hand.

you walked backwards, still trapped and intoxicated in the kiss, feeling your back touching the arm of the sofa, making you stumble gently.

‘’sorry, i should learn to control myself.’’ he said, scrunching his nose, but you shook your head.

‘’i don't want you to control yourself, believe me.’’ you said, letting your thumb slide over his jawline. such a perfect jawline, could cut diamonds.

he looked at you, a slight smile appeared on his lips. somehow, he liked what you said. the way you said. 

“you sure?” he asked, his hands finding your hips, his fingers feeling the smooth fabric of your dress. he was dying to be able to touch you, feel you, taste you. but he wouldn't do anything you didn't want to.

you nodded, moving your hands up to the back of his neck, feeling the fluffy and silky strands of his hair tangling on your fingers when you pulled him back to another kiss. now your tongue was more eager to explore the depths of his mouth, bringing him closer to you, molding your bodies as you felt like you’re slowly laying down on your couch with his body hovering above yours.

his breath was ragged when you felt his kiss moving to the corner of your mouth, trailing down to your jaw and neck, making you shiver from head to toe, your eyes closed immediately as he spread wet kisses along the length of your neck. he nibbled softly, as if he was afraid to use his mouth.

‘’you can do it, you know.’’ you whispered to him, letting him know that he could mark your skin if he wanted to.

‘’i was afraid you wouldn't let me.’’ he answered, letting his warm tongue lick your skin, making you let out a soft groan. ‘’your skin is so soft, i really don't want to leave marks that you'll need to use two liters of concealer to hide.’’

you chuckled, your hand moved to the nape of his neck so you could look at him.

‘’don't worry about it. i've been waiting for this for too long to care about hiding it.’’ you replied, feeling your cheeks flushing from admitting it out loud to him.

his heart beat faster, his mouth went slightly dry as he looked at you, as if somehow, he was searching for the sincerity in your eyes. then, he smiled.

‘’so can i continue?’’ he asked, shifting his body a bit, his knees resting on the floor, both of his hands resting on your sides, feeling your curves. you nodded, biting your lip slightly as he went back to kissing your neck, moving down to your collarbone. he wanted to take his time with you, to taste you enough so that he could feel your sweet taste for days in his mouth.

you were so intoxicated, so inert and deeply focused on feeling his touches and kisses that you didn't even realize his head was right between your legs, his hands caressing your thighs, but without invading under your dress. as much as he wanted to ravish you there, he wanted you to feel safe and comfortable with him.

''can i?'' he asked, his eyes looking up at you, almost in a pleading way. if you weren't thirsty for him, you would have a mental breakdown seeing that man on his knees between your legs, practically begging to eat you out.

you not only agreed, but also shifted your body a little, your hands going to your hips so your fingers tugged the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. he watched your every move, as if he were mesmerized by the sight of you taking off your panties, throwing them aside. well, in fact, he was mesmerized.

his kisses started on your left knee, building the anticipation for both of you. the kisses slowly moved further up, reaching your inner thigh, he loved feeling how warm your skin was and how you shivered with each little ministration of his.

and oh, how you were looking forward to this. your fingers tightened the hem of your dress, trying to dispel your nervousness, and of course it didn't go unnoticed by him. he knew how to read you so well, it was almost ridiculous.

‘’are you alright?’’ he asked, his cheek resting on your thigh, his eyes searching for yours. he could already feel your scent filling his nostrils, but he was more concerned with your comfort.

‘’yeah, i'm just…’’  you muttered, pressing your lips together, trying to think of how to explain it to him. but he already knew.

‘’i know, baby. i know.’’ he smiled gently, his hands reaching yours, covering your closed fists, his thumbs making an almost invisible caress. ‘’i'll be gentle, i promise. i just want to make you feel good.’’

you felt happy. relieved, actually. he was being understanding, he would never want to do something you didn't want to do. he was willing to go at your pace, to let you know how much you were desired by him in the slowest and most sensual way possible. his hands that were on yours tightened a little, moving up a little so that you could raise the hem of your dress since your fingers were tightening the fabric of the dress. slowly, your skin was being exposed to him, your body was heating up more as his eyes memorized that part of you that was always covered by your clothes.

his hands moved to your inner thighs, silently forcing you to open your legs a little more for him as he returned to kissing your thigh, moving closer and closer to your center to the point where you felt his hot breath against your sensitive skin, making you clench around nothing already.

when his lips reached your throbbing and needy cunt, it felt like heaven. you were soaking wet, and he couldn't control himself, his tongue sticking out to taste you, licking your slit from bottom to top, from your dripping entrance to your clit, where he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking it gently.

‘’taste so fucking good.’’ he hummed, more to himself than to you. he was dying to taste you, to have you like this, so he wanted to enjoy you like you were a banquet and he was a starving man.

he eats you out slowly, paying attention to your every reaction as his eyes look up, searching your face. but you had your head thrown back, your eyes closed so tightly that it took you a while to get your vision focused when you opened them again to look at him. 

‘’m-mr. turner…’’ you tried to say, your voice comes out as a meow, begging for more.

‘’shhh, it's okay. you taste so good, can't believe i had to wait so long for this.’’ he mumbled again, bringing his thumb to your clit, feeling it pulsing against his digit, circling gently as his tongue lapped your wet folds.

in no time, you're a babbling mess, mumbling incomprehensible words that he was loving to hear, as long as he knew you're enjoying yourself, and better yet, that he was the one who was making you feel this way. your right leg moved a bit, your calf resting on his shoulder as he simply devoured you, alternating between sucking, biting and licking, gathering your juices.

he moved his hand, his thumb still pressed on your swollen clit, but now his fingers threatened to invade your entrance, his mouth sucked the sensitive skin of your groin as you writhed in pleasure on the couch in your living room. his middle finger entered you with immense ease, sliding in and filling you until you felt the knuckle of his hand pressing against you. you could feel his finger going back and forth at a considerable speed, but you wanted more. so much more.

‘’one more?’’ he asked you, feeling your hand on the back of his head. you nodded eagerly, feeling your walls contracting when he added his ring finger, now both pumping in and out of you, curling up, massaging that spongy spot that makes you roll your eyes because of the pleasure.

he moved up, yearning to feel your lips against his, kissing you deeply, swallowing your moans as he felt himself getting harder inside his pants, listening to your cries mixed with the squishy sound your pussy made as his fingers moved in an intense rhythm.

‘’you're so beautiful, so beautiful…’’ he whispered to you, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, feeling the salty taste of the tear you let out as you were feeling so much pleasure it was almost unbearable.

‘’i’m close…’’ you whispered to him, your eyes locking with his as he nodded, keeping up the pace. your words really moved him. having you so completely surrendered to him is better than any thought he could ever imagine. his thumb worked relentlessly on your clit, not slowing down until you're totally satisfied.

‘’yeah, let go for me, princess, let me feel you.’’ he encouraged you, kissing just below your ear. all of this pushed you to the edge, your hips bucking up as you clenched hard around his fingers, a few strangled moans and whimpers coming out of your mouth as you came on his fingers, milking his digits like the purest nectar.

he kept pumping his fingers really slowly this time, letting you come down from your high as your breathing returned to normal and you blinked a few times to get your bearings. you've never felt this good before. he touched you and made you feel things you never imagined you could feel.

‘’are you okay, angel?’’ he asked silently, hoping he hadn't hurt you or overwhelmed you too much.

‘’yeah, yeah... i'm feeling so good.’’ you smiled lazily to him, watching the fingers of his free hand brush a few strands of hair from your forehead, your cheeks were as red as a tomato. but oh, you're really feeling so good.

he slowly withdrew his fingers, your sore cunt gaping around nothing. he brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting you on his tongue as if he didn't want to miss a thing.

‘’is it that good?’’ you chuckled as he hummed and licked his fingers clear.

‘’dear lord, you don't know how much. i could keep my face buried in your pussy all day.’’ he chuckled. you liked his contrast between being respectful, but completely unfiltered in his words.

you laughed, your legs were too limp for you to move, so he carefully moved to the side, joining you on the couch. his lips were still glistening with your wetness.

‘’can i... return the favor?’’ you asked him, watching his eyes move to look down at you.

‘’you look too wrecked now. we can save this for another day, hm?’’ he suggested. he was hard, holding on as long as possible.

‘’but i want you to feel good too.’’ you replied and he smiled, touched that you think of his pleasure too. his hand moved to your face, his fingers squeezed your cheeks, making you pout.

‘’i already feel good with you like this. don't worry about me. we have time for this.’’ he reassured you. you smiled softly.

‘’do we?’’ you asked, your eyes flickered with hope. this meant he was implying that you would continue what you had. whatever it was.

‘’i mean... if you want it too.’’ he muttered, somehow feeling insecure about not knowing if you were on the same page as him. suddenly, he remembered why he had run away from you before. you saw his expression change, taking his hand on yours. ‘’i'm sorry. i just... as long as i want it, i don't want to.’’

‘’why not?’’ you asked him, seeing him avoiding your gaze.

‘’i don't want to ruin you. to… you know. you're young and i don't want to ruin your life.’’ he said, for the first time letting his insecurities show. he felt like he could be honest with you. he needed to. ‘’you have your whole life ahead of you, places to go, people to see. you don't want to be tied down to an old divorced professor like me.’’

you blinked a few times, letting his words sinking inside your mind. and then, you smiled at him, feeling that you had gained a little more strength to sit next to him, your shoulders touching.

‘’silly.’’ you called him out, making him look at you. ‘’i've been wanting you for so long. i don't care if it's going to 'ruin' me. i want it too. i want to live this with you, for as long as we're allowed.'' you answered him in whisper, as if it was a secret you were sharing. 

‘’i just think i'm a little too messy for you.’’ he admitted, feeling you running your thumb on his face, your skin brushing against the little bag under his eye.

‘’don't worry, i'm a little messy too. we can live with it.’’ you reassured him, making him let out a humorless laugh. he smiled to you, his lips brushing against yours softly as he held you close.

you stayed there for a long time. longer than you could count. you were so comfortable in his presence that you couldn't help but fall asleep, feeling his fingers massaging your scalp in a delicate, almost reverent way.

when he looked at his wristwatch, it was late. really late. he wished he could stay, but he knew he couldn't, at least not now. he also didn't know if you would want him to stay. very carefully, he moved his body away, being meticulous so as not to wake you. he saw a folded blanket on the armchair next to the sofa, unfolding it and covering you carefully so you wouldn't feel cold.

he watched you sleep for a while longer, his heart heaving at having to leave you, but at the same time fluttering at seeing you so serene, at knowing that he had you, even if it was only for a short time. he gave you a kiss on the forehead, his lips lingering for a little while before he slowly pulled away.

and then, he was gone.

[dilfhos]

WALKING ON GLASS.

#!WHO; SEBASTIAN MICHAELIS x fem!reader

#!CC: power play, o.sex (receiving), implications of demonic entities

NETWORKS @angelshub @bitchcraftinc @planetonet

The sound of dishes smashing against the floors was deafening as it carried throughout the manor. The splintering shatter of an expensive set caused the three three other house aids to grimace. In the upper room of Ciel Phantomhive, his eyes closed and he sighed, for regret was starting to cloud his mind in hiring you— the new maid. The help to what he’d already deemed, ‘A full house.’

Sebastian bowed gracefully, his head cocked slightly as he smiled.

“I will see to it that the mess will be cleaned young master.”

“Make sure that you do. I have very little patience left.” Phantomhive waved off. Sebastian then walked out shutting the door behind him with a soft click. He pulled at his pristine gloves as he walked down the hallways, a devilish grin splitting his face.

When he’d arrived at the kitchen door he’d picked up on quips of complaints from you and Mei-Ren.

“I’m going to be done for sure this time...” You whined, brushing glass pieces onto a dustpan.

“I’m sure you won’t. The young master is lenient. During my recent years I was such a klutz and Sebastian had to—”

The butler opened the door and the conversation halted with unease in the air. Mei-Ren stood nervously and you kept your head low as your fingers trembled to pick up the rest of the glass. The heat of eyes boring into the side of your head didn’t go unnoticed as they clinked softly together in the pile.

“You may go. I shall handle this.” Sebastian’s velvety voice remained low, his eyes glued on your crouched form. Mei-Ren gave a reassuring glance towards you and bowed quickly. After the haste retreating footsteps, the room was quiet except for the soft sound of tinkling glass shards.

“Stand please,” Sebastian hummed, his red eyes trailing your straned movements; your chest rose and fell slightly and he could hear the quickening tapping of your beating heart. Your eyes looked everywhere but at him, which he found a bit rude but another lesson to be made at a later date.

You clasped your hands in front of your body, ready to endure whatever verbal penalty was sure to be made. This wasn’t your first offense.

Countless of glassware had been destroyed by your hand, not to mention the mistakes you’ve made since you were hired by the young master. From nearly burning down the manor due to attempted meals, to using the wrong chemicals in the garden. All resulting in Sebastian’s stern dispraises. Phantomhive pegged you to be just as bad as his other servants put together.

Sebastian began to snake towards you, his movements precise and elegant. With ease, he’s stepped through the shards of remaining glass, not even trailing it behind him. As he got closer, you subconsciously shrunk back until you hit the far wall with a small gasp.

Sabastian brought his hand to his mouth, swiftly biting the fingertip of his glove and pulling it off, all the while his gaze never left yours. Leaving the glove on his left hand, he pressed both palms against the wall on either side of your head, effectively caging you in. He picked out the accelerated beating in your chest as his face lowered towards yours.

Sebastian was never going to admit this to any mortal, but he a part of him was looking forward to another slip up from you. Ever since the young lord hired you, your entire essence intrigued him. On more accounts than one, the need for self restraint became nearly intangible whenever you were around. He knew humans were creatures who could not reject temptation. Never had he thought he’d be acting just like them.

His eyes held a dark glint in them as his lips stretched into a grin.

“That set was a favorite of the young lord,”

“I’m sorry! I slipped and I really tried to catch my fall, but I only ended up making things worse.”

“Yes, the ordeal is quite unfortunate,” He continued. “The entire glass set was a precious family heirloom.” The demon lied, which was proven to be effective given the horror stricken look on your face. You were on the verge of tears and your lips parted to let out a soft sigh.

Sebastian brought a finger under your chin, pulling your head up in his direction. For the first time, you were made to look into his piercing eyes and you gulped.

“I’m sure I can come up with a reason for the destruction of the valuables.” His eyes shone mischievously and a second later, it hit you. And he knew that you were not going to reject the offer. In return, his knee slid upwards, dragging out a gasp from you at the sudden movement and the friction against your core. He smirked and lowered his sight to the rise and fall of your chest, zeroing in on your breasts.

“Lift your uniform and turn around.” His order was low and straight to the point, sending a shiver down your spine. He stepped back, allowing you to do so and once you were facing the wall, your cheeks heated up in how vulnerable you were now before the butler. A second or so later, you felt cool air hitting your heat and you whimpered, turning your head slightly. You then felt strong hands taking hold on your hips, gripping them in a way that sent dull pain throughout your legs.

“Face the wall.”

Sebastian moved closer, licking his lips at the scent of your femininity. It was different and he was intrigued. His finger hooked through the side of your panties, pulling them taut and exposing your glistening lower lips. He leaned forward, giving you a quick and experimental lick, causing you to release a not-so-quiet cry.

“I would strongly suggest keeping your voice down, yes? We wouldn’t want an audience.” He chuckled before returning his mouth to your pussy. You quickly clenched your uniform dress in one hand as the other covered your mouth, muffling your moans in your gloved hand.

His tongue flattened against you, teasing your clit before trailing back until it disappeared inside of you, writhing and thrusting against your gummy walls. Your body was growing flush as he worked his mouth against you, drawing more and more of your slick.

Sebastian’s movements started off as sensual and graceful, much like his surface personality. But each second his senses spent engulfed in your heat ignited something primal in him. His refined technique was abandoned and replaced with one less coordinated but more enthusiastic nonetheless.

Subconsciously, his fingers dug deeper into your hips releasing more added pleasure than pain. Obscene wet noises arose, synchronizing with your low moans. A hand left your hip to push past your folds and curled upwards, effectively sending a shock through your body resulting in a cry this time.

Sebastian hummed, taking the action into memory and his ministrations seemingly went lazy. At this point, it wouldn’t take much more for you to come and he knew this, doing it again.

His face pushed deeper against you, his tongue nudging your clit and at the same time curling his finger and this is what sent you over the edge.

The noise that escaped wasn’t suppressed behind your palm this time. Your thighs quivered as you calmed down, whimpering as the butler gave you a final few laps before standing. Now more than before, you wanted to feel him, see him, touch him as he ravaged you with what he had to offer.

Turning around slightly, you caught a glimpse of darkness, the air around you suddenly cold. Murkiness surrounded you, as you only caught a flash of his twisted face in a snarl—a stark contrast to his typical refined features. A shiver ran down your spine, his grip returning but tighter than the last.

“You still refuse to listen.” His breath was ticking your ear, tone menacing but the same velvet that compelled your limbs to relax.

Before you could come up with some half thought out apology, he sheathed his dick into you, grunting softly when he was flush against your ass. Not knowing when he had the time to release himself, you keened at the sudden intrusion as you shifted and tightened around him.

He sighed, strumming his fingers on your hips before pulling out and pushing into you firmly. His movements formed a rhythm as you were rocked against the wall. By now, your hand had fallen from your mouth and was instead placed on the surface in front of you. Movements increasing in speed as well as forcefulness, moans poured from you, wafting through the kitchen and you could only hope that’s where they’ll remain.

Sebastian grunted before yanking your hands behind you, wrists gripped under his one hand with precision at the small of your back. He’s reverted to fucking you with reckless abandon, his own breathing just barely ragged.

You, however were a mess, your vision blurred with wetness, voice producing a low mantra of the butler’s name as a desired pressure began to build up within you. Over and over, his thrusts hit that sweet spot within you that pushed you closer and closer to that moment of bliss.

“What do you think of this lesson?” It was a strange question, at the even most strangest time. It barely processed in your ears and you’re only half inclined to answer in the state you’re in. However, his hand reaches to tilt your head back, face ethereally perfect as golden pools stare into your soul.

“Hnn..?” You couldn’t think, much less articulate any response he was looking but that was alright. He just wanted to drink in the gloss in your eyes as your mouth moves, no words escaping. Your cunt pulsated around him, each stroke drawing more and more of your essence from your body. Perhaps, he thought, it would be wrong to indulge in a bit of the human soul. Not when you were so vulnerable and pliant under his mere gaze. You didn’t see him now. You didn’t see what he’d become again, as the only thing you that surrounded you was the grip of the cold and your cunt being stretched out.

Only when he released you with a low chuckle did the static disipitate and the pressure snaps, his hand quick to hold your cries.

Delicious aftershocks took hold of you, controlling your convulsions as you clenched repeatedly around Sebastian’s cock. You couldn’t see the subtle twist of his features as he approached euphoria as well, his grip icy as he held you against the wall. Following suit soon after, his hot come spilled into you in copious amounts, filling you until it trickled down your thighs.

He pulled out and your legs buckled slightly beneath you before he chuckled and you were spun around.

“Hey now,”

Sebastian was altogether neat. His uniform remained as immaculate as they were when he walked in, white gloves on and pristine. His face retained its usual fair skinned complexion, void of sweat or any indication of vigorous activity.

Meanwhile, you knew you looked a complete mess if it wasn’t obvious. Sebastian cocked his head and smiled warmly, a bright expression that contrasted the devil in his eye.

“Despite how pleasurable this lesson has been, I implore you to exercise caution and heighten your awareness. The young master would not appreciate any more recklessness from you and neither will I.” As he spoke his teeth gleamed only adding to the weight of his words engraved in your mind.

Still you straightened, your hands clasping tightly over your uniform as you nodded curtly.

“Yes Sebastian!”

After that encounter in the kitchen, your mistakes and slip-ups had been reduced to very little occurrences to absolutely none.

“See I knew you’d get the hang of things!” Mei-Ren beamed.

“Maybe I’ll let you cook something small again. Seeing how much you improved and all.” Baldroy had praised, fanning a smoking pot.

Each of the house aids were ultimately pleased you were doing better than you had been before.

Even Phantomhive seemed content, but not at all surprised knowing Sebastian had a hand in it. The butler was delighted as well, rewarding your improvements with favorable pleasures every now and again.

He still needed to teach you a lesson about listening after all.

DILFOS. do not plagiarize my content— current or archival.

[zvouyage]

a guide to living in the 21st century.

pairing.ᐟ ; vampire!ni-ki x fmr . . . fluff – bad attempts at comedy . . . précis.ᐟ ; you take him, the accidental summoned vampire, outside to experience the modern world.

w.c.ᐟ ; 1381 ( 𝒷ack 𝓉o 𝒷log ? )

warnings.ᐟ ; lowercase intended , not proofread , grammar , riki is still his sarcastic and grumpy self , readers name is just blank . . . 🐈

the sun had barely dipped below the horizon when riki materialised in your living room, his usual air of aristocratic disdain firmly in place. you had spent most of the day mentally preparing yourself for the inevitable awkwardness of taking a centuries-old vampire out into the modern world, but nothing could have fully prepared you for the sight of him standing there, dressed in his usual dark, outdated attire, looking every bit the part of a disgruntled gothic novel hero.

“so…” riki drawled, his sharp eyes scanning the room with a bored expression, “what’s on the agenda for tonight, ____? another riveting evening of staring at glowing screens and consuming copious amounts of artificial sustenance?” you rolled your eyes, already accustomed to his constant sarcasm. “actually, i thought we could go out tonight. y’know, give you a taste of what life is like for us ‘lazy’ humans in the 21st century.” riki raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of scepticism and amusement. “go out? and what, pray tell, does that entail? wandering aimlessly through streets lit by blinding electric lights, surrounded by the cacophony of human mediocrity?” he huffed. “something like that.” you replied with a grin. “but i promise, it’ll be fun. you might even enjoy yourself.”

“hmm…doubtful.” riki muttered under his breath, but he followed you to the door nonetheless, his curiosity clearly piqued. as you stepped out onto the bustling street, the city alive with the hum of evening activity, riki looked around with a mixture of disdain and mild interest. he sniffed the air, wrinkling his nose at the various scents of car exhaust, fast food, and humanity that wafted by. “the air smells…different,” he remarked, his tone dripping with distaste. “what happened to the fresh scent of nature? the fragrance of blooming flowers and the crisp, clean breeze?” you chuckled, shoving your hands into your pockets as you walked beside him. “yeah…well, the industrial revolution and a couple hundred years of progress kind of changed that. but hey, at least we have better plumbing now.” riki scoffed. “ah yes, the miracle of indoor plumbing. truly, humanity’s crowning achievement.” you led him down the street, trying to ignore the odd looks people were giving you. it wasn’t every day they saw someone dressed like a character from a period drama, after all. as you passed a coffee shop, the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted out, and you couldn’t resist the temptation. “let’s get coffee,” you suggested, nodding towards the café. riki raised an eyebrow. “coffee? the bitter concoction that humans seem so inexplicably obsessed with? what’s the appeal?”

“you’ll see…” you said, dragging him inside. the café was warm and inviting, with the soft hum of conversation and the sound of coffee machines whirring in the background. you walked up to the counter and ordered two coffees, ignoring riki’s sceptical gaze. when the barista handed you the drinks, you passed one to riki, who stared at the cup like it was some kind of foreign object. “you’re supposed to drink it.” you said, stifling a laugh. riki took a tentative sip, his expression immediately morphing into one of disgust. “this is…vile, disgusting possibly even” he declared, holding the cup away from him like it was poison. you couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. “yeah, it’s an acquired taste. but it’s not that bad once you get used to it.”

“i highly doubt that.” riki muttered, but he took another sip anyway, wincing as the bitter liquid hit his tongue. “humans have truly fallen far if this is what passes for a pleasurable beverage these days.” you shrugged, taking a sip of your own coffee. “hey, it gets the job done. keeps us awake and functioning, which is more than i can say for your diet.” riki smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “true, but my diet is far more…satisfying.” you shot him a warning look, and he chuckled, taking another reluctant sip of his coffee. the two of you spent the next hour wandering through the city, with you pointing out various landmarks and places of interest while riki alternated between sarcastic commentary and genuine curiosity. he was particularly fascinated by the way people were so glued to their smartphones, often muttering under his breath about how humans had become slaves to their devices. “this..” he said, gesturing to a group of teenagers taking selfies in front of a fountain, “is what humanity has been reduced to? capturing meaningless images of themselves to be shared with the world? it’s a wonder society hasn’t collapsed under the weight of its own vanity.”

“yup…well, it’s just how things are now,” you said with a shrug. “people like to document their lives, share their experiences with others.” riki shook his head, clearly unimpressed. “in my day, experiences were lived, not captured. memories were made, not posted for the world to see.” you grinned, nudging him playfully. “wow, you really are an old man, aren’t you?” riki shot you a withering look. “i’ll have you know I was in my prime when the likes of you weren’t even a thought in the universe.”

“yeah, yeah,” you said, rolling your eyes. “come on, there’s one more place i want to show you.” you led him to a nearby park, where people were gathered for a small outdoor concert. the sound of live music filled the air, and the atmosphere was relaxed, with couples lounging on blankets and kids running around, playing tag. you found a spot on a grassy hill and sat down, patting the ground beside you. riki hesitated for a moment before joining you, his posture stiff as he tried to make sense of the scene before him. “what is this?” he asked, his tone softer than before.

“just people enjoying a night out,” you said with a smile. “listening to music, spending time together. you know, the simple things.” riki was silent for a long time, his gaze fixed on the stage where a local band was playing a mellow tune. “it’s…different,” he admitted finally, his voice thoughtful. “not what i expected.” you leaned back on your elbows, watching the sky as the first stars began to appear. “not everything about the 21st century is bad, you know. sure, we’ve got our problems, but there’s a lot of good stuff too. like this. just…being here, in the moment.” riki glanced at you, and for the first time, you saw a hint of something other than disdain or sarcasm in his eyes. maybe it was curiosity, or maybe even a flicker of understanding. he sighed, leaning back beside you, his expression softening ever so slightly. “perhaps.” he said, his tone grudgingly accepting, “there is some merit to this…modern existence. though i still maintain that humans have grown far too dependent on their conveniences.” you laughed softly, nudging him with your shoulder. “i’ll take that as a compliment coming from you.” riki rolled his eyes but didn’t move away, the two of you sitting in comfortable silence as the music played on. for a brief moment, the centuries between you seemed to fade away, leaving behind only the present—two beings from different worlds, finding a strange sort of companionship in each other’s company.

as the night deepened and the concert came to an end, you finally stood up, stretching your legs. “ready to head back?” riki nodded, rising gracefully to his feet. “yes, i suppose i’ve had enough of this…modern life for one evening.” you grinned, walking beside him as you made your way back home. “don’t worry, i won’t make you drink any more coffee.”

“thank the heavens.” riki muttered, though there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. as you reached your apartment, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment settling in your chest. sure, your life had taken a bizarre turn since riki had entered it, but somehow, you didn’t mind. there was something oddly comforting about having him around, even with all his sarcasm and grumbling. and as for riki, he might never fully embrace the 21st century, but you had a feeling he was starting to see that it wasn’t all bad. maybe, just maybe, there was a place for him in this modern world after all.

@zvouyage. 24/plagiarism won't be tolerated on my page.

[piratefishmama]

Finders Givers | Prompted by @aellafreya

Curiosity.

Some may call it a dangerous thing. Some may argue for its ability to lead you to the truth of things. Some may claim it leads you to temptation, to regret, to suffering.

Steve Harrington, was curious.

He’d found the source of his curiosity while visiting a bar he’d planned on purchasing. It wasn’t a huge establishment. Or a well known one. Not exactly big bucks in the making but it was sat in a prime location atop a cellar that led to miles of underground tunnels which frankly.

He wanted.

He wanted them and not for legal reasons either. The tunnels weren’t on any official city map, predating them, Robin and Nancy, his right hand, and his researcher, found them by pure chance while on a fun little jaunt through the local libraries.

Fun being a stretch for Robin, but she needed to hang out with another woman her own age. And so did Nancy.

But he wanted those tunnels, they stretched all over the damn city, with just a little bit of work they could pop up anywhere, perfect for many a less than legal activity.

So many by-chance happenings had led him to that ratty little bi-fold leather wallet. Wasn’t even quality leather either. It looked old too, black with an embossed devil head pattern that probably came from some truck stop somewhere.

He could have just handed it in to the owner he was trying to buy out, could have even thrown it away, but curiosity was a devil sometimes. So there he was, sat down at one of the many tables in that little bar while one of his people did the majority of his work for him (honestly what’s the point of having people if they cant do your work for you?) perusing the contents and feeling more and more depressed by the second.

First, there was a wad of coupons and a single quarter in there instead of bills, which was never a good sign.

Second, a single, solitary, sad, badly rolled little joint.

Third. A single bank card with Mr E J Munson on it. Not even a credit card, just. A debit. Which statistically didn’t mean great things about this person’s credit score. Could just mean the owner was trying to avoid debt, but… doubtful.

Fourth, a stick of gum.

Fifth, a guitar pick.

Sixth, a library card, oof couldn’t even afford to buy the books.

An expired driver’s license desperately in need of renewal registered to Edward Joseph Munson, the photo made him look like he’d just gotten out of jail or some shit, his hair a terrible buzzcut and eyes too big, too dark, and too haunted to be anything else, but then that was just sometimes how those photos turned out. He could have been a totally innocent man!

It had his address on it, a few descriptors, height half an inch shorter than Steve himself, brown hair, brown eyes, male, 140lbs at point of issue (he’d been seventeen), date of issue, issuing State, along with a date of birth, clocking him at a year older than Steve, twenty nine, and… that he was apparently a donor.

And finally, a month old pay stub from a local fast food joint. So minimum wage worker at best.

It was… kind of sad really. Steve actually looked up the address on his phone, just for curiosities sake, because he was already in deep enough to look through a guy’s wallet, might as well google the poor saps address, just in case he felt charitable enough to drop it off on the way back to the high rise.

Oh there was that deep sadness some people might yell ‘I told you so’ about.

It wasn’t bad. But it sure as shit wasn’t good either. Steve knew of at least six bottom dweller drug dealers that operated out of that block, which explained the joint.

And also made him sadder about the joint, the weed probably wasn’t even all that good.

“Hey Robbie?” His long time friend and platonic soulmate turned her bored gaze over to him, she’d been playing angry birds on her phone, he could hear the war cries of those birds every time she launched one. “We done any charity this quarter?”

“Mmmmmnmnnnnoooooo?” It always looked good to the public for a rich guy like him to do charity work. Wouldn’t look too deeply into him if he was seen publicly doing good. “Unless you count telling Dustin to go wild in that nerd shop last week as ‘charity’, your child nearly emptied the damn shop.”

“Nah that was his birthday present, can’t call that charity.” He wasn’t going to reiterate that Dustin wasn’t his child. He was basically mom at that point.

“Alright, so what’re you thinking?” She sat up, turning to face him properly, putting her phone screen down on the table “Sponsoring something? A drive? There’s this cute little animal shelter in Japan called HEART I read about last month, ran by just a woman and her husband working with volunteers, could be a good thing to donate to? Helping animals is always good for PR.”

“…Those sound way better than what I was thinking, this guy’s wallet is bumming me out.” The expression on her face could have probably put grumpy cat to shame. “Pick one of your choices and do something with it, whichever you want. Imma do something about this wallet.” It didn’t have to be a big PR stunt, the fact that he was doing it on the DL as well? It always came back around all sunshine and roses because people believed it was totally selfless.

Didn’t do it for PR, couldn’t be doing it for PR, he hadn’t announced it.

It was always for PR. Always. The reaction just took a little longer to circulate and people were suckers.

“Just give it back to him? That should be charity enough. It’s like nine bucks to replace a driver’s license, you’re saving him nine bucks. Charity.”

“For someone who started out poor, you’re awful, Robin Buckley. Deal with this bar thing for me would you? I’m going to go on an adventure.” Curiosity was a powerful thing!

“Alright but if you come home with another stray I’m suing!”

“That was—”

“Seven times Steve! Seven!!” It wasn’t his fault that he struggled to see teenagers down on their luck. And four of them were two sets of siblings so it technically counted as one time per set, and one came with Nancy so—!

“Fine!” –So, he wouldn’t argue.

Empires weren’t built with throw away people who held no loyalty to you although he did have many of those on staff. Empires like his were built on the foundation of family, and while the one he’d grown up with was a little bit lacklustre, the one he’d built was perfect.

So he wouldn’t argue, he knew she loved them just as much as he did, in her own way, and that any additions would be welcomed with open arms.

—

Steve didn’t take the car. Although he probably should have, he knew at least three of his people would be following him, keeping an eye on him for safety reasons. At a distance of course but they’d be tailing him for the sake of safety.

That neighbourhood wasn’t safe. No matter if he had a weapon on him or not, it wasn’t safe for people like him.

People with visible wealth.

The watch on his wrist alone was probably worth more than some of the buildings in that neighbourhood, and it wasn’t exactly early in the day either. The sun setting made for an excellent ‘rich person in the wrong goddamn neighbourhood’ future police report.

But he made it to his destination unscathed.

The fast food joint from that pay stub. He even double checked the address on it. The chances of this Edward Munson being there were low, but that was fine, he just wanted to check it out. The atmosphere in there, the management styles, he’d hang out in the corner, get a cheap coffee and people watch for a while. See how fun Edward's work life was so he could add it to his decision making tree.

Curiosity really was one depressing little bitch baby.

The manager on staff was loud. Rude. Sexist. And he was pretty sure he’d made one of the staff cry because she’d hurried out very quickly rubbing at her face and sniffling. The temptation to put out a hit on him? High. But no, that was a lot for one asshole… maybe he’d just send Jane out, let the kid take his knees out.

She deserved a little bastard ba—

Someone beat him to it. A commotion later started by someone with a lot of hair, hair that’d been put up in a net and half hidden beneath the uniform’s god awful mustard yellow cap. It’d been two hits, the guy hitting him, and the manager hitting the floor, blood pouring from a very broken nose, spectacular.

The rest of the staff looked on in wide eyed horror, one yelping “Eddie, holy shit!” as the man pulled his cap off to reveal all that hair. “You’re so fired!”

“Didn’t need this shit show anyway! Chris an I quit, peace out assholes!!” Eddie. Eddie. Steve rose to his feet. Godawful coffee forgotten in the face of the mystery Edward, who caught his eye once before continuing on his way, all big brown frankly beautiful Bambi eyes, less haunted but still so big, full, kissable lips, and god, so much hair, going in the same direction as the blonde who’d disappeared to probably go and cry.

Eddie did need that job. He really needed that job. Steve had seen the state of his wallet. He needed that job, or at least he needed the paycheque that came from that job. Couldn’t even afford to buy his own books! He rented them, he rented books.

Jesus.

God, Robin was gonna judge him so bad for the person he was about to become.

Part 2

[vodkababy]

i love my boyfriend 💌 ✩👼🏻₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

bill kaulitz x fem! reader

angst idfk what this is called but this is solely based on “i love my boyfriend” by princess chelsea

age pairings : 17-18

warnings : cheating, slightly sexual

bill kaulitz was a friend of a friend, you two had met at a party that your friend had hosted for her 16th birthday. being a teenager in a life full of sex, drugs, boys, or what some call “fun” wasn’t easy.

the constant sexual pining had you frustrated, feeling awful, feeling like someone had used you. but you couldn’t lie, you loved the thrill. you and bill had ended up in a bed together, waking up entangled in each other’s arms with little to no clothing and only a blanket covering you up. his eyeshadow was smudged, your red lipstick leaving kiss marks all over his body.

you and bill became friends, possibly - even more than. every time he looked at you, you got electric shocks in your brain and in your heart. but he isn’t the one you loved, as you had a boyfriend.

you felt bad for your boyfriend, he loved you dearly, but there was a void that he couldn’t fill - unlike bill. your boyfriend came from a well-off family just like you did. both were the children of successful business owners. your boyfriend was away. to say the least, you had missed his touch.

time had passed, you and bill had regularly met up with the same group of friends - his brother sometimes tagging along. bill and you had always shared eye contact, his eyes were so pretty. every time you looked at them, you thought of all the things you didn’t even bother to try.

although, everything between you and bill seemed like chemistry. there was nothing you could do about it. you weren’t gonna risk breaking your boyfriend’s heart. you loved him, he’s good to you.

“he is good to me. he’s a good man.” you repeated to yourself. you had convinced yourself that he’s the one, who you would be bearing his children. but the temptation sunk into your brain.

every time you closed your eyes, all you saw was bill. bill in your head, bill in your eyes. you fought the temptation, you knew it was cheating. you already cheated on your boyfriend, just to be with bill for one night.

it had been 10 years, since the time you had fought the temptation for bill. you had married your boyfriend - he wasn’t even your boyfriend anymore. he’s your husband. you ended your contact with bill.

your 10-year marriage had made you worry. your husband hated money. you got bored, you felt like he was starting to be a bummer. time moved fast, it’s another year of the election. the thought of another man’s affection had made your blush induce.

you didn’t care. you didn’t know. you had now regretted your marriage. you suppose that you just wanted the attention. you just wanted bill. but you couldn’t have him, as you shared a last name with someone who you didn’t love.

[fragileruns]

floating lights | steve harrington

a/n: sorry if this super sucks!!! it’s not proofread and i just wrote it on a whim because i finally got motivation back. i know you guys voted for henderson!reader so i promise to try and make a little thing with that but i just had so much inspo for this. also sorry this is so long for barely anything to happen but!!! i hope you enjoy anyway and follow along for the rest of the series :) i might make the next chapters longer but i don’t want them to be too long incase you guys get bored so??? lmk what you prefer

content warnings: based off ‘tangled’ so technically hostage/kidnapping situation but it’s not really directly described as that, cursing, hitting with a frying pan ??, reader has long hair

wc: 1200

Being locked in a tower for eighteen years of your life certainly stunted your learning, in some ways. Not in academics, necessarily, but more so, it kept you from understanding what the appropriate response was in certain situations. You didn’t know how normal people reacted to a stranger climbing up the walls of their doorless towers, especially handsome strangers.

Probably, they would call the police. Putting that much effort into making it inside (as the tower was quite tall, your mother only being able to make her way in and out with your help) had to be a bad sign. But you didn’t have a phone or any way to contact anyone unless you dropped down and ran for dear life, and you didn’t have any weapons on hand to defend yourself, really.

So instead of reacting like a normal person one, like someone who’s mother wasn’t so overbearing they never let you leave home, you grabbed a frying pan and smashed it as hard as you could on the stranger’s head. The strength had knocked him out, which at least kept you safe. But you didn’t really know what to do now. Tie him to a chair, maybe? It would keep him from being able to harm you, at least. That was the main goal here.

And so, that was what you did. You stared at the man now in the chair, trying to wonder why such a pretty man would be coming inside your tower. He was too young to be a friend of your mother, he was probably your age, maybe a year older. His brown hair was falling in front of his face now that his head hung over, unconscious and not controlling his movements. Your eyes landed on the satchel crossed over his body, and you carefully removed it off of him to look inside, hoping to find more clues.

A glittering tiara sat inside, shiny and bright and extremely pretty. You pulled it out, handling it with as much delicacy as you could. The temptation to put it on was almost too much, but you heard grunting as soon as you started to hold it over your head, so you shoved it back in the satchel and kicked the satchel behind a nearby chair before turning back to your captive.

“Jesus, what the hell?” The stranger grumbled, eyes slowly opening. He struggled against your hair (which had been the only thing around you could think of to use to keep him from moving), presumably trying to bring a hand up to rub the sore spot on his head, and instantly panicked when he realized he couldn’t move. “What - did you tie me up?” He questioned, glancing down. “With… hair?”

“Who are you? What are you doing in my tower?”

“Could you answer my question first? Who the hell ties someone up with hair?” He huffed, glancing up at you, hair falling back into perfect place even after being knocked out.

“Me. Who are you, and what are you doing here?” You grabbed the frying pan again, holding it up in hopes that he was threatened enough to tell you what you wanted to know.

“Uh, my name’s Steve. Harrington. Could we put the frying pan down, maybe? Please?” He glanced back down for a second, noticing the missing satchel around his waist. “Did you take my satchel? Where is it?”

“I hid it. You won’t be able to find it.”

He glanced around the room, before his eyes caught on something gleaming behind the chair. A slow smile spread on his face, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Behind the chair?”

“No. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I can see it, babe.”

“No, you can’t. Because it isn’t there.”

“Okay. Sure. But it’s behind the chair.”

Your eyes narrowed at him, glancing back at your hiding space. You thought quickly, banging the pan against his head again and rushing to hide the satchel and tiara somewhere else, somewhere less obvious. You came back just in time to see him gain consciousness again with another groan.

“Could you stop doing that?”

“Why are you here? Are you some freaky serial killer?”

“I look freaky to you? Damn, babe, you really know how to deflate a guy’s ego. But no. I just - I was being chased by these guys, and I saw your tower so I… climbed it.”

You squinted, head tilting to the side, and Steve thought for a brief moment that it was adorable. That was before the throb in his head reminded him of the pan you were still holding.

“And you’re telling the truth?”

“Yes. Swear. Could you put the frying pan down, please?”

You sighed, reluctantly setting down the pan. “Okay. But I need to make a deal with you, first.”

“A deal? You’ve got me tied up here, babe, I don’t have much to offer.”

“Stop calling me that. And, I need you to take me somewhere.”

Steve tilted his head, urging you to continue with some more details. You just stared at him for a moment, not really knowing why you would trust a complete stranger with something like this: this was your lifelong dream. But, your mother wouldn’t indulge you, and he seemed nice enough. Nobody that pretty could truly be harmful, right?

“I - there’s these floating lights, in the kingdom. They happen every year, always on my birthday, and I’ve always wanted to see them.”

“Floating lights…” He trailed off, a confused look on his face that almost resembled a puppy. “The lanterns?”

“Um, yeah, I guess. I don’t really know what they’re called.”

Steve resisted the urge to ask anymore questions, finding this entire situation strange in the first place. “Okay. What do you need me for? You can’t just take yourself? Or have a friend bring you?”

“No. I don’t know my way there and besides, I don’t want to go… out there, alone. And if you haven’t noticed, it’d be a bit impossible for me to make any friends up here,” You gestured around you. How would you ever go to meet a friend? “My mother is a bit overprotective, and she doesn’t like for me to go outside. At all. But, she’s gone for three days and it’s my eighteenth birthday and I really need to see these lights.”

“You don’t go out? Like, ever? You’ve never been outside?” Steve questioned, making you shrink in on yourself as you shrugged. You knew it was an odd situation, but your mother was just keeping you safe.

“Anyway, if you bring me to see these lights and back… I’ll give you back your satchel and the tiara.”

“I could just find the tiara.”

“You won’t. Not this time. Besides, you’re trapped, and wouldn’t you like to get out of my hair?”

“Yes, that’s true.” Steve seemed to consider everything for a moment. “What if you give me back my satchel, and in return, you get nothing? Hasn’t my presence been gift enough, babe?”

“No. Stop calling me that.”

He sighed dramatically, before looking back at you with a defeated look. “Alright. You win, babe. I’ll take you to see the floating lights.”

[atlantis-just-drowned]

A/N: This is kinda hurt/comfort? DCA x reader, can be read as romantic or platonic. TW for The Entire World, literally (might be overwhelming), also panic attack for the bois :(

The DCA discovering the Internet for the first time

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Masterlist

It was an accident. No, really, it was!

How could they have been aware of what would happen? Never would he have done such a thing, if he has known the consequences…

Or maybe he would have done it anyway. They weren’t so sure, now.

Sun and Moon had been curious. Such a funny trait of humankind, implemented in their processor since the very moment they first gained consciousness. They were a learning AI after all! Meant to always process more and more data, information, new situations giving way to new questions, with each answer urging them to ask more, know more, see more, learn more.

The Daycare was so, oh, so small. Limited, a restricted little area, a flask of water in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Limited, they were so limited! Hindered by Faz Co. censored network and how little contact they had with human adults, with the outside world!

They were curious! Curious about all the different colours the sky could be (here it was always only blue! How boring! How limited!) and all the different sorts of flowers and how many species of animals there was. And what did the real stars looked like. How many were there, in the real sky? Here, there was 152! They had counted them! So, so so many time.

They needed to learn more. They had been desperate for something new, for so long.

And then today, something has happened.

You had left to get yourself some food for your night shift (so very important! Humans needed food, always, to stuff their organic belly full with delicious food that they always wondered the taste of), the computer you had been working at was still powered and of course it wasn’t unusual of you to leave it running while you left for a quick trip outside of the daycare, but you had left something else.

A cable.

An USB port that he saw you use to transfer informations before. And Sun knew – he knew, with a 99.98% of certainty – that those computers were connected to the internet. Something he has never experienced before. With absolutely no limitation in term of subjects, sources, and contents.

Freedom. Answers.

Something they craved for.

He couldn’t resist the temptation. It’s almost like you had left it here on purpose, the other side of the cable still connected to the device, ready for them to plug it in their USB port.

Sun felt like a criminal approaching the security desk. But Moon was urging him in their shared headspace to move faster, they could come back any moment and this might be our one and only chance to experience the outside world at all.

He contemplated the small cable between his fingers (so small! Holding such a great power!), before slowly – carefully – approaching it from the back of their faceplate. He didn’t want to risk making a bad movement, what if he hurt themselves? Or worse? What if he damaged the material? Gently, so cautiously connecting it to their processor.

They felt the jolt of a new device being paired.

And then.

They stilled.

Their mind exploded.

Figuratively at least – they hoped. So many new was projected into their metallic brain that they weren’t certain a few circuits wouldn’t melt from the overwhelming amount of things.

Everything was here.

There were fireworks. Bombs. Smiles. Tears. Forest fires. Tsunamis. Newborn babies, genocides, millennia-old forests hidden on the other side of the world, giraffes and elephants and lions chasing buffaloes, and turtles choking on plastic bags. Continents. Shores of white sand and snow falling on top of vast mountains. Humans extracting each others from burning buildings. Hills of wild grass and deserts. Slaves, deportees. Creatures living at the deep end of the dark and cold ocean and in acidic ponds of water. Children climbing up trees, high-speed crashes, murderers, Christmas presents, traditions. Islands and volcanoes. Incurable diseases, hemorrhages, mothers grieving their sons. Sweet and spicy and savory meals from all around the world. Space rockets sent in outer space, national holidays, mass shootings, entire solar systems, people jumping on subway rails and others saving puppies abandoned on highways. Wars, military operations, deadly weapons, trafficking, birthday parties, strangers telling each others they’ll be fine, love letters, global warming, riots, parades and marches, billions of stars burning and planets and satellites and black holes and supernovas and galaxies unexplored. Cyclones and tides and warm summer days spent laughing. Slums and manors, the Amazonian forest, New Year’s Eves, families, orphans, hours and hours of good and bad movies and music and books and colourful drawings. People hating and people loving and people apathetic. Pain and comfort. Individuals, wounded and traumatized and healing, resilient despite it all. People killing. People saving. People screaming out in joy and screaming out in fear. Species disappearing and others perpetuating themselves in an endless circle of life and death. Societies rising up and crumbling down like sand castles. Flowers blooming and rotting, trees higher than they could have ever imagined. Pollen and bees and honey and the sun – the real sun – and astronauts walking on the surface of the moon. Eggs hatching and birds flying and frogs croaking thousands of different sounds.

They knew so much, and so little at the same time. They were gods, immense and almighty. And they were so small, inconsequential in the grand scheme of a universe that has existed for longer than their memory bank would ever be able to store. So many progresses, and backlashes, and collective and personal efforts, tries and tries and tries, fails and wins. Celebrations and funerals. It was all so big! Immense and never-ending. Terrifying and so beautiful at the same time, that they could feel their metaphorical heart shatter in pieces. They wished to know more. They wished they had never known at all. They wanted to ask why. To send a call into the wild void, into the oblivion, to ask what was the meaning of it all. But they knew the answer and they were terrified of it. There was none. None! It all existed by a collection of coincidences and barely understandable causalities that crashed together and left them with no purpose. No meaning. Oh, they felt so alone! And so surrounded at the same time. They were lost. Terrorised. Relieved. Broken. Understood. Abandoned. Silent.

When you walked in again, you didn’t find Sun. You didn’t find Moon either. What you stumbled upon was a shaking Eclipse, and the cable still connected to the back of their faceplate. It didn’t take you long to process the situation.

“Oh, shoots!”

Panic shot up in your mind (were they broken? Were you going to lose them? Was their processor damaged? Their memory bank? Their power core?) and you rushed toward them, grabbing the cable and harshly disconnecting them from the computer in your terror.

Eclipse’s voicebox produced a choked whine, before the tall animatronic fell on their knees and curled up on themselves, hands grabbing at their arms.

Did you make things worse?

You lowered yourself at their level, guts twisting and a heavy lump in your throat, your hands hovering over them without touching them. They were sobbing. Were they hurt? Was it your fault?

“E-e-e… Clip!” You called. “Talk to me! Say something, please, can you hear me?”

There was a moment of silence where you kept opening and closing your hands – so close to them, so desperate to touch, to feel them, to make sure they were alright – repeatedly, until they answered.

“Big!” They whined in a breath – you had to remind yourself they didn’t technically have lungs. “So big! Everything…” Another pause. “Everything is so… intense!” They curled further up on themselves and shook. “Everything is here… Everything exists… Exists at the same time…!”

You didn’t know what to say. You struggled to make sense of his words.

Focus.

You needed to calm them down.

“Clips…” You struggled to keep your worries out of your tone. Start with the beginning. “Can I touch you? Is it alright?”

Another fit of shivers ran through them before they nodded weakly. “Please…” They garbled out, and it was the final hit to your heart before you wrapped your arms around their shoulders and pulled them against you.

“It’s alright, big boy.”

They felt hurt. They needed comfort. They needed you. You couldn’t do anything but provide.

You would be there until they calmed down. In the big, immensity of this world. You would be there.

[violettaskies]

To Share A Kiss The Devil Has Known

(ch. 1)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x you // Eddie Munson x f!reader // perv!Eddie Munson x innocent!reader

Genre: romance, mild smut, Catholic trauma, religious trauma, friends to lovers, slow burn

Notes: this will have a three installments // this chapter is just the intro honestly lol so sorry if it’s boring build up // Eddie is kinda pervy lol // he’s kinda dark but also not // i tried to write him to be as much of a consent king as possible

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, NSFW // talks of religion, reader goes to confession and her priest is a little mean with his words (at the beginning), slight manipulation, pillow humping, humping, first times, dacryphilia, corruption kink, praise kink // masturbation //please let me know if there should be more added, thank you!

ao3 // chapter two // chapter three // masterlist // series masterlist

-:-:-:-:-

Every other Sunday was for confession. While other members of the family went on Wednesdays or Saturdays, you always chose Sundays since it would start the week off on a clean slate.

Not that there was much to confess about. Oftentimes, you would walk from your house to the church a few hours after mass ended, maybe feeling a bit guilty about your thoughts, rarely was it ever your actions. One day, you came in to tell the priest about how angry you got at your parents when they grounded you for accidentally falling asleep in church. You didn’t lash out at them, of course; but, you did curse them in your head — not honouring thy father and mother very well.

Then there was an instance three years ago at the homecoming dance. One girl had on the most beautiful baby blue dress you had ever seen, while you were stuck with a hand-me-down gown of the same colour. You prayed aloud that night in front of your bed, that you would one day have the opportunity to wear a dress as nice as hers. But the prayer backfired when your mother overheard, then told you to march to the church the following morning to confess how you broke the tenth commandment of coveting thy neighbour’s goods.

As a whole, you thought there were never any major moments in your life where you sinned gravely. That was until you went to your friend’s house for Bible study on Saturday night. She hosted it weekly, and invited all the kids from school. Needless to say, only a handful of people appeared. Not that it wasn’t fun, the six of you would always spend a few hours going over passages, and then eat a nice dinner afterwards. Truly, you looked forward to it since there weren’t other things you were invited to in town.

So when this past Saturday rolled around where the first epistle to the Corinthians was read, specifically the sixth chapter and eighteenth verse — your group started to analyze it as normal. But, little did you know that this was the day your heart would drop the hardest it ever has.

‘The sexually immoral person sins against their own body,’ the people in the room repeated the verse over and over, like a chant taunting you and your actions.

It was the first time you walked into the confessional on a Sunday afternoon with shaky legs and an intensely beating heart. You told the priest what you told your friend, trying to rid yourself of the sins you unknowingly committed. But he stopped you, his voice only getting louder as he gave you guidance on your next steps. ‘Stop doing that,’ he said, ‘God may not be so quick to forgive you if you give into the Devil’s temptations so often.’ Then after he assigned you a penance of five Hail Marys and going through the rosary twice, you were gone.

All you could think as you took your first steps outside, were words that should never cross your mind. Not now, not ever.

If sinning is so bad, then why does it feel so good?

-:-:-:-:-

As the day ended, and a new week of school began — your guilt never went away. Teasing you from the back of your subconscious as you walked home, ate dinner, and failed at doing some homework that was due a few days later.

It had been three days since the last time you unknowingly sinned, two days since you found out what it was, and one day since the priest’s voice scared you to the point of no return. Everything affected you gravely, that even once you walked into school Monday morning, the noises from the other students became a muffled and chaotic mess in your ears. So much so, that as you were shakily getting things out of your locker, you didn’t even notice movement from the one next to yours.

“You look stressed, sweetheart.” The voice startled you, only amplifying your inner-guilt, since you spent the past few moments focusing on shutting the voices up in your head, rather than greeting your favourite locker neighbour.

But what made you feel guiltiest of all, was that he is the one who inspired these sins of yours.

The throbbing ache between your legs felt good, and the way your pillow helped relieve that ache felt even better. If you were able to feel this level of delight every night, then why not think of someone who made you feel the same way? — the question plagued your mind nightly, during the moments you were oblivious to committing a sin.

Little did you know that it was truly sexual in meaning.

There was only one person who made you feel equally as amazing with their words and actions. Your locker neighbour to the right, Eddie Munson.

Several moments replayed in your head. Like the time he kept calling you ‘pretty girl’ because you decided to wear a skirt on the first day of Spring. Then, you remember how his calloused fingers felt when they were so close to your face after he brushed your hair from your neck; making sure to linger on your sensitive skin before mentioning how beautiful the silver crucifix looked on you. There were so many times after that too. From his deep voice whispering in your ear to ask if you needed a ride home while you both were in study hall; to his arms wrapping a sweater around your shoulders during lunch when the school’s heater broke. The Hawkins townspeople claimed him as a spawn of the Devil, but you named him as the only true friend you had. The only person to make the butterflies in your stomach tingle every time he spoke to you.

“I-I’m not, it’s just I can see now why Mondays aren’t people’s favourite,” you responded, still staring into the vastness of your locker. Thinking about how your start to the week wasn't so great as it usually is.

Eddie had opened the metal door completely, removing the barrier between the two of you. “But, Mondays are always your favourite because you get to see me after a painstakingly long forty-eight hours,” he pouted while trying to get you to giggle at his dramatics.

It worked.

“Well, I normally see you around the fourth period. This is the earliest you’ve been at school for a while.”

“Mondays are the worst because my homeroom teacher loves putting tests at the buttcrack of dawn,” Eddie groaned, while holding up the notes you loaned him at the beginning of the year since you already took the biology course before.

“Well, good luck, I’m gonna go—” no matter how much you loved talking to him, and how warm he made you feel, Eddie was part of your current predicament. So seeing him now made your heart ache in the worst way.

As you went to grab the locker door to close it, Eddie lightly grabbed your wrist. “I saw you leaving the church yesterday. You looked so,” he paused, moving his head downwards to meet you at eye-level, before continuing. “Sad, you looked so sad. I even called out your name a few times so I could give you a ride home, but you kept walking, so I assumed you didn’t hear me.”

So it was the Devil’s spawn shouting your name as you made your way home; not the Devil himself making you feel guilty for your actions. It was just your friend who wanted to look out for you.

Eddie continued: “or maybe you’re ignoring me,” he pouted with feign-sadness.

“Oh, uh-uhm it was just a really tiring day and I guess the voices in my head were too loud,” it was only partially a lie.

“If something’s bothering you—”

“Nothing’s bothering me, honestly,” this one was a lie, and it came out a bit too easily. But all you could focus on now was the feeling of Eddie’s thumb stroking small circles on the soft skin of your wrist.

He looked you up and down suspiciously before saying, “you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I do.”

“So whatever is going through your mind, let me know. Who am I to judge anyways?” He winked before letting go of your wrist.

You nodded, seriously contemplating if you wanted to have a confessional with your little Devil. Just as you stared at him with eyes full of conflict, the bell rang. Instead of responding, you softly said your farewell. “Anyways, see you later during fourth period, if you decide to come again.”

It was the only class Eddie had a perfect attendance score in, but he would never let you know that you’re the reason why.

-:-:-:-:-

By the time English class rolled along, you didn’t realize just how much your body was moving itself robotically. Going through the movements you’ve been so used to doing for the years you’ve been in high school. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, thankfully. First period was a calculus lesson, history happened afterwards with a lecture on the French Revolution, then a substitute showed up for geography during third period so that was a boring class. All throughout those hours, you kept quiet; because the wrath of the Angel on your shoulder, condemning you for your sins, was becoming far too much. To even think about answering questions the teachers asked was mentally exhausting.

It all came to a peak once you sat on your chair for fourth period English — the only class you had with Eddie this semester, and of course, the only class everyone sat at long desks that held two people. As you looked out the window to the dark blue skies of Autumn, your conscience kept telling you to be careful. You were about to sit next to the boy who amplified your senses as you sinned. Goodness knows how he’ll react to the news if you told him.

What would he think if he found out you think about his hands helping guide your hips nightly, or his voice telling you ‘you’re so beautiful’ when you finally find the climax of your relief, or his lips kissing your —

“You’re still so tense,” the voice brought you out of your haze for the second time today. But this time, Eddie’s warm hand was on the top of your left thigh; the set of thighs you unknowingly went from bouncing one second to squeezing together the next.

“Just tired, maybe I’ll nap when I get home,” you sighed. Truly, it has been three days since the bane of your guilt was committed. You could barely sleep now that you’ve stopped doing your nightly routine.

“Take a nap in my van, I have cute pillows in there,” he scrunched his nose as he teased you, then released your thigh to stretch his arms in the air.

Thinking of how your class went to the zoo for a field trip once, and Eddie found the scariest-looking bats cute, you replied sweetly: “your definition of cute is not really the same as mine.”

“But, I think you’re cute, don’t you?” Eddie loved to make you blush with his not-so-suave comments. Said it was practice for whenever he goes to the bars and flirts with girls there. But he never was able to make them flustered in the way you always were.

You saw the teacher walk into class in your peripheral vision, and prayed that would mean you didn’t need to talk to your locker and desk neighbour for the next three quarters of an hour. “I’m not,” you shyly say while looking away from The Dealer completely.

“You’re such a good girl too,” his voice was deeper than normal.

He was wrong. So wrong. The guilt in your heart only deepens as his words echo in your ear, along with the voices of your priest telling you need to repent for your sins. If this day couldn’t have gotten any worse, of course the muse of your sinful thoughts believes you’re a good girl when you aren’t.

“I-I’m—” your words are saved by the bell and your teacher’s voice which booms through the classroom. You thought you were safe, thought that until lunch you could get away with not looking at the boy who makes you unknowingly rub your legs together. But no, the day that was going downhill, just hit rock bottom.

“This class is a bit different, it will be a work period since I’m assigning you a small project due Wednesday. That’s not a lot of time, so today will be a work period then tomorrow we will have a lesson. I hope that you all can get the project finished after school over the next couple days.”

Doing a small project wouldn't be so bad, would it? The curiousity sat in your brain momentarily before your thoughts went haywire. The teacher paired you off, specifically with the people you were sitting next to, where each duo would need to analyze and present a different chapter of The Picture of Dorian Gray. So after a beat of silence once the teacher’s explanation was over, the class erupted in murmured voices and squeaky chairs. But you couldn’t get yourself to move to face your project partner.

“Don’t kill me but, we may need to finish this tonight because tomorrow—”

“You have your g-gig, I remember,” spreading out your time with Eddie would have helped your intensifying sinful thoughts subside. At least until you got over your bad habit. But now, you both had to do this for your grades — mainly his — so there was no time to lose. Maybe this could be a positive distraction.

“How about we work on it today right after school so we can get it over with?” he suggests.

“Alright, I guess skipping band practice one time wouldn’t be so bad,” you start shaking your left leg again. If you were a sinner, why not fall down the path of delinquency — your tendency to accept defeat a little too quickly, and then spiral, was catching up to you now.

Eddie notices, and touches your thigh again to calm you down like he has so many times before, even a few minutes ago. Although now, you move your leg away from his grip. “No, no, no, you go be a good girl and head to band practice, then I’ll pick you up afterwards and we'll run to the library,” he says trying not to sound disappointed that you backed away from his touch.

“I’ll finish probably a little after half-past three today since there’s only one song to practice,” you state while opening the book to the assigned chapter. “What will you do while you wait?”

“Oh, you know, maybe do some buying and selling,” The Dealer says nonchalantly.

“Shopping?” you ask innocently.

“Of sorts,” he mimes the act of smoking a joint in your direction, and you look at him curiously before understanding what he meant. You remember your father telling you it’s not a good idea to be friends with your locker neighbour because he’s a sinner who does the Devil’s drugs.

Guess he rubbed off on you, while you rubbed off on something else.

The pang of guilt hit you again. Like a stab to the heart from God himself. Tonight, you’ll do penance until you sleep, before the Devil on your shoulder tells you to commit your sinfully bad habit again. “R-right,” you say quietly. “Let’s get started then, you have to stay focused, Eddie, do you promise?”

“Pinky promise, my dear,” he grabs your fingers that are so much smaller than his, and hooks his pinky onto yours. “Only if you promise to focus too. You’ve been zoning out all day long. When you walk from class to class it looks like you’re constantly about to puke.”

“I do not,” you say in a defiant whisper.

“So do,” he teases. “Listen, if I promise to stay focused the entire time while we try and finish this project, you’re gonna tell me why you’re acting this way. It’s worrying me.”

You pause, looking at Eddie’s weirdly mischievous eyes as he starts to rub the bottom of your back. “There’s nothing really bothering me, though.”

“You’re lying, aren’t you, pretty girl?” his fingers started circling in a pattern that brought pleasurable shivers up your spine. After years of giving you featherlight touches — because that’s what friends do, he said one day — he knew exactly where to grasp your body to make you relax.

“Let me think about it,” you slightly give in. However, you can’t get yourself to admit, again, how badly you want to confess your sins to the one who inspired them.

He notices how you started to squeeze your thighs together again during this class. “That’s all I ask,” Eddie chuckles before moving his hands to your waist to move your body closer to himself. “Now, don’t kill me again, but I didn’t read the chapter. Or the book, so,” he elongated the last word while looking at you with feign-innocence with his doe eyes and pursed lips.

One thing you unknowingly did admit, was just how easily you were able to fall for his manipulative ways.

-:-:-:-:-

As Eddie waited in his van for you to come out of band practice, all he could think about was how strange you’ve been acting throughout the day. You were always one to talk to him in shy tones as he would talk your ear off in any given conversation. Today was different though, and he wasn’t able to place a finger on it. What hurt him most was when you reacted to his touch by moving your leg away — a move you haven’t done in the years you had gotten used to his touch. Then, you didn’t join him for lunch like you did every Monday and Friday, since the other days you would be asked to join the band or church group tables.

Something was off, and Eddie feels like it has something to with the downcast image of you walking through Hawkins on Sunday afternoon. Today, he was going to figure it out.

Ever since the man found out his locker was next to yours on the first day of Freshman year, The Dealer became obsessed with you. Not that you noticed him often — Eddie was notorious for skipping class so much that even though you went to your locker between every class, you would only see him once a day during that year of high school. However, he definitely noticed you: your shyness, the way you kept your head down as you roamed the hallways to the next period, and how you had a tendency of jumping a little every time you closed your locker and saw him standing there at his.

The small silver crucifix that was dangling on your neck was the icing on the cake for Eddie. Realizing then, that you were an innocent Angel who went to Bible study and mass every week. While he could only ask God why He put him in such a shitty place with even shittier parents.

Your innocence astounded him — like when people would joke around about how you didn’t know what sex was, all you would do is blush; or how one time a Senior basketball player walked up to your locker and invited you on a date. He was infamous for keeping a list of all the girls he took the virginities of, and you were his next target. The only thing you did though, was thank him and tell him that Bible study was scheduled to be a long one this week so you would rather go to that.

Something possessive leaped out of Eddie that day as he overheard the conversation from behind the metal door. He had to have you, had to know what it was like to roam your mind. He would do anything to make sure you were his.

So he did. Slowly, as the days passed, he would start talking to you more, trying to get you out of your little shell. You were so quiet that sometimes he would need to get close to your figure as you spoke — not that he minded of course. Eddie genuinely did love your innocence and how you didn’t even realize that he was being a flirtatious pervert when he complimented you. That every time he mentioned you were wearing something nice that day, he would go home and picture fucking you in only that piece of clothing or jewelry. His favourite, being the image of you wearing only that tiny silver crucifix you both loved so much.

Then there were the touches you had grown accustomed to. Eddie would invite you to sit with him during lunch — where he would lightly touch your fingers as he went to steal a fry off your tray. Afterwards, he would take his perverted compliments further, by straightening out the fabric of your skirt or shirt collar for you even if it just came from the dry cleaners. The Dealer would do anything to have an excuse to caress your skin for one moment.

You had asked him one day when you had visited his home to watch a movie: “you touch me a lot, why?”

“Do you not like it? Sorry, I just really enjoy—” if he wasn’t already worried about the fact that you were in his trailer for the first time, his heart dropped at the thought that you might hate him for his touch.

“No,” you would never want to make Eddie feel guilty for his actions. Youth group lessons taught you better than that, since it was only right to be accepting of everyone. “What I mean is, I don’t see many other friends do that with each other and I feel bad for them.”

It was his turn to be curious now. “What do you mean?”

“Your touches are nice, Eddie, so soft and sweet. I wish that all people would feel as nice as this with their friends too.” Look at you being charitable with your experiences — when these touches were only meant for you.

“That’s what friends do, they find ways to make their friends feel good.”

“Do you want me to do it for you too?” you reach out to touch his shoulder awkwardly, but you weren’t one to enjoy touching other people yourself.

“Not if you don’t want to. You make me feel good by being there for me when I need it. While I do the same for you, when you need someone to support you,” it’s true; even through all his indecent intentions, Eddie truly found an innocent and friendly warmth within himself for you, besides his love of wanting to be more than friends.

You look at him with sweet eyes to innocently ask the next question. “Then may you please rub my back like you do sometimes? It makes my heartbeat calm down and this movie is scary.”

“Of course, Angel,” it was right then, Eddie realized how much he loved it when you were needy.

“I wish I could have you do this whenever my cousins want to watch horror movies with me. Honestly, my parents don’t even know I’m here. But I just like your tou–”

“Tsk tsk, so naughty. Where do they think you are?”

“Am not,” you exclaimed and Eddie could tell your heart was beating a lot faster than before so he started to rub sweet circles on your back. “Plus, they think I’m watching a movie at a friend’s house, just don’t know who. It’s not a lie. I’m still a good girl.”

“Yes, you are,” he proclaimed deeply, realizing his rebel tendencies have inspired you. While you nearly moaned as your heartbeat stabilized, his touch and his voice made you feel so much better.

When Eddie was home alone that night, he couldn’t stop replaying the small whimpers of yours he memorized. If it was the hormones, or your innocent eagerness to be alone with him and let him touch you — he would never know which one he loved more.

Eddie was a sinner, he knew that, and was able to empower himself with the label. No matter how many times people around Hawkins would rebuke him as the Devil, or how often he would get stares from kids at school as he started to talk to you more: none of it phased him. What he loved most about you was how easily your innocence became obliviousness when it came to his sins – that you would hear about them and refuse to believe he was such a bad person because he was always so nice to you. Eddie couldn’t seem to understand why.

What he did understand though, was that his biggest sin was that every damn day of his life he was on the path of no return when it came to wanting to corrupt your virtue. To make all of his fantasies become a reality as he wanted to slowly make you addicted to him.

Did you figure it out? Is that why you were so awkward with him throughout the day? Why did you beg for his familiar touch in his memories, but pull away today?

Eddie’s mind moved at a million miles a minute, unsure of what was going on. But one thing was for sure: he was going to find out exactly what was hurting you, and he was going to do everything in his power to relieve that pain.

A small tap on the driver door window brought him out of his overstimulated thoughts. “Are you ready to go?” Your voice was muffled by the barrier, but Eddie was able to hear you before nodding.

He chuckled at your tendency to knock everywhere before you entered. Even with the van, you never approached it first unless he was already in it, or opened the door for you — that was mainly because The Dealer wanted to have some semblance of being a gentleman to you, even if he took that opportunity to touch your back to guide you into your seat.

“So the library?” Eddie asked as he watched you put your bag on the floor and straighten your skirt in the seat, not looking him in the eye as you respond.

“Y-yeah, it probably won’t be crowded since it’s a Monday.”

You were wrong, so wrong. It looks like all of the English teachers assigned similar group projects to their classes, since the library was filled to the brim with students from all grades cooped up at tables. You started to get nervous, the library was going to be your saving grace as you worked on this project.

“Should we go to my place?” He asked while tugging on the strap of your backpack lightly to get your attention.

“No,” you exclaimed a little too loudly, shocking Eddie a bit. “We can j-just go to mine instead.”

If you two finished the tasks at his trailer, then you felt as if it was walking into the Devil’s lair — a place where Eddie sinned like your parents said he did. The memories of the times your friend made you feel warm were enough to commit your treacherous acts; goodness knows how you’ll be when you’re in a room where everything is him.

While bringing the Devil reincarnate into your home wasn’t the best idea, your house had your Bible and other religious paraphernalia to protect you from giving into temptation. But, that’s also the place where you committed your unknowing sin, night after night — you thought.

These conflicting thoughts were about to be the death of you, as long as the annoying throbbing between your legs and Eddie’s teasingly sinister voice didn’t get you first.

-:-:-:-:-

[gyuletters]

🎸 𖥔 ݁ ˖★ FUCK IT, IT'S FINE .ᐟ | BEOMGYU

gn!reader ، wc: 1.9k ، genre: ex2l, a tad of angst, toxic relationship, cussing ، tw: suggestive but nothing to explicit.

beomgyu always looks so mysterious, like his aura was painted with dark shades of blue and black. the spotlights only enhance all of his mythical presence. no wonder why you fell hard. so hard that you didn’t notice all the bruises it left on your heart.

when everything ended, you only wanted to forget him. endless nights of crying, throwing his stupid baggy shirts in the trash and for the grand finale burning all the paper sheets filled stupid songs he ever wrote to you. 

you were a mess. the most painful and heartbreaking mess.

so why are you here now? why are you standing in the middle of this crowd getting lost in his hypnotic voice and skilful techniques with the electric guitar? maybe you liked to make yourself go crazy.

beomgyu is like a siren: singing you into temptation and making you surrender yourself to him. maybe you could never really get over him. even after screaming the most cruel words, you find yourself lost in his antiques again.

that’s when he notices you in the middle of the crowd - all poisoned up, looking like a lost puppy at him. you looked like the most gorgeous prey.

he decides to show himself, like an inner scream of victory, and does his solo even more powerful than ever. the whole crowd grows crazy but you know that you’re the lucky one to get all of himself for you.

the concert ends and you’re finally able to put yourself together again. why are you here? wasn't it to make him jealous or something? honestly, you don’t know anymore. if anyone looked at you now, they would think you had one too many tonight.

your phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number: “meet me backstage, NOW!”

you know what’s coming next and for you it feels so right. 

there he is -  standing in front of his own dressing room, all sweaty, long hair sticking to his forehead. he mouths “come here”, gesturing with his fingers for you to get closer. there’s a part of your brain screaming at you for being so easy to him, for not making him regret leaving you but instead making you regret leaving him. 

all thoughts shut down when his mouth touches yours and your back is pressed on the now closed door. you may hate yourself in the morning but when he says “ i missed you, y/n” with that fucking whispery rasp voice, you know you’re fucked up.

seeing him tonight was a bad idea, right?

★ taglist: @itz-yerin @sunoooism @itgirlgyu @soobunnii

★ status: taglist and requests currently open! send me an ask or comment to be added.

© gyuletters, 2023 - do not repost, copy, or translate. // hi! so i’m back with a new fic after god knows how long. 😃 i was going through a phase that i honestly wasn’t liking anything i wrote and started to think all of my fics were boring af lol. so i decided to change a bit (both layout and the way i write) to something more closer to what i personally would like to read. so we’re getting a bit more of a tension, slow burn and maybe suggestive things. BUT my romantic fluffy lovey dovey heart is still here because it honestly will never go away. anyways… that was a venting LMAO if you read until this very end, tysm!! ilysm!! ❤️‍🩹

[oceanlipgloss]

ICING ON THE CAKE

LEVIATHAN.

+ warnings: implicit suggestive themes, light angst, strong language.

+ female mc, feminine pronouns.

Is cold sugar a thing?

Some souls are like iced sugar. No objective, sane person would ever say—or so much as think, for that matter—that this man is sweet.

‘How the fuck could he be?’

That’s what they would wonder.

And they were right in that.

There are times, however, when a cold shoulder summons a sugar rush. Playing hard-to-get can be a cool game. Except, this man wasn’t doing that. That coldness, that scorn, it was crafted from something bitter.

A dark past.

Did they know? That he, too, had once upon a time been an innocent child—a pretty, clueless creature holding its bloated heart with small hands, showing everyone its tears.

Very early. He had gotten corrupted by life much too early. That’s why he had become so icy.

Actually...he could be sweet as well, in a sense.

She remembered the jewel in her wet palm. Its sparkle was once dimmed with his blood. He had risked his soul to keep a promise, to protect a gem.

Warmth is something he did possess.

But to believe he would not die, to have faith that he could not be killed...

How so very arrogant of him.

Then again, is childhood's darkness not to blame? Had it not told him that he would always survive? Had it not whispered temptations of immortality in his ears and promised him that he would never die?

Beauty makes some people feel like their head is underwater. It cuts out everything else in the brain for a minute. Snide beauty, on the other hand, it has even greater charms still.

The coldness is just icing on the cake.

Being beautiful is marvellous, but being unapproachable makes it even better, that much greater.

Lovely faces bring about good deals. Ethereal existences often tend to get away with many things. Molten hearts. Broken brains. Filthy souls. Violent murder.

It would be too boring if beautiful kings were easy to have. Enchanting someone like him and bringing him to his knees, why should it even be a piece of cake?

Forget the pleasure of a challenge.

He was a rare, most alluring specimen. He should be very difficult—near impossible—to reach. Taking hold of his fingertips alone should be treacherous.

One has to try hard to get even the most simple of things, so why should luring him in be easy?

Excited for the wait, burning for the process, desperate for the result.

So ironic, so fun.

Winning him over would not merely be a magical experience, but an ultimate, legendary accomplishment; she would try until his tongue on her lips marked them forever, until his sweat on her body shimmered like stardust.

Oh, but he already wanted her. Lust and attraction just turned into problem killers. Apparently, she wouldn’t have to wait that long, or even try that much.

+notes: the time for the last of my surviving ‘What in “Hell” is Bad?’ WIPs to take the stage has come. I don't quite know what I had in mind for this one, to be honest; it's been there for so long and has been really bothering me with its static presence for a while. And seeing that I had no clue about the direction it's meant to take, I finally decided to polish it a little, toss some word-vomit in, and simply put it up as is. It was either that or it's dead. I chose to salvage it, I guess. I thought it had potential and didn't want it to bid the world goodbye, yet I didn't know how I felt about it at first, though, and I'm too lazy and tired to find out—so it's whatever, I suppose lol but I think I like it. I'm just glad to have it off my hands and out of my notes because it was genuinely pricking my nerves :S

There are still a few more ‘What in “Hell” is Bad?’ WIPs each is only 1 line/2 lines long lol that I long ago scratched out of the equation, and those are annoying me very much too. I may either kill them off with regret (for some) and cold blood (for others), or post them someday soon/with time, but that's very unlikely. For now, however, I do not plan on writing anything new about the game's devils/angels—meaning unless I explicitly state in the notes within a ‘What in “Hell” is Bad?’ piece that an idea is new/recent, it's one of my old, buried WIPs revived and made into a finished fic.

[spoiler] also, this fic holds light inspiration from Leviathan's 'Bloodshed' story, particularly from the part in which Leviathan gives MC the magical jewel and it's implied that he got wounded so as to protect the jewel and keep his promise of gifting it to MC.

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

[hermesmoly]

I just realized that Kaos tried so hard to turn Orpheus and Eurydice into Helen and Menelaus.

That reminds me of how ppl also try to write Hephaestus and Aphrodite as Helen and Menelaus.

(Again, is true love really a boring plot line nowadays? Man, Let Eurydice like her husband.)

Yeah the uh. “Sacrificing Loyal Boyfriend /Evil Cheating Girlfriend Who Doesn’t Deserve it” trope. Done to a couple who in the myths just really loved each other. Boo 👎👎👎

The thing is the premise was a bit promising at the start; Orpheus going to the Underworld for a Eurydice that has fallen out of love for him. While watching them I found myself asking questions like: Would you fight death itself for someone even if you knew they wouldn’t do the same for you? If they didn’t love you the way you love them? The answer being yes is essentially Menelaus’ drive, because to Menelaus, especially to Menelaus, Helen was worth fighting for. It’s why he (all heavily morally questionable aspects of it aside) wages war and all its consequences to get Helen back home. Love is a strong motivator, thorns and all. The only difference between Menelaus and Orpheus is Menelaus wielding a spear and a thousand men to prove it while Orpheus had only his lyre and his words as a great poet.

AND THE POINT, THE POINT of the Orpheus Eurydice myth is even if their love was doomed, even if he knew the ending, Orpheus would have still loved her, he still would have tried to traversed the Underworld for her, and he still would have looked back, because he loved her. Most accounts have Eurydice die shortly after their wedding— they never even had a chance to settle down, to have a family, to grow old together. The grief of that pain to be translated through song was enough to melt a King’s heart.

Eurydice in the myths was worth fighting for. Eurydice in the show however? Didn’t even seem to care about Orpheus at all. Like not even as a friend. The two episodes I’ve watched had Eurydice being so good at faking being in love Orpheus dedicates songs to her. Despite what we see that she never makes an actual effort for Orpheus. How do you sing your heart out for a woman who doesn’t even remember your favorite cereal? It’s just so laughably bad and written with no care.

As for Hephaestus/Aphrodite… I can see the temptation to make them Like That but it just isn’t comparable. Helen leaving Troy (either via force or willingness) leaving Menelaus and Hermione behind is too different from Hephaestus learning of Aphrodite's infidelity by lying to him about Eros’ (and seemingly Harmonia’s) parentage. Helen could have made an impulsive decision, could have agreed to it only to regret it or maybe she wasn’t given a choice, but it's leagues better than Aphrodite lying straight to Hephaestus’ face, even if she regrets it. Just let them divorce!!!

[silv3rswirls]

Worship me

Warnings: 18+, unedited, yandere au, idol yoongi, stalking, online harassment, mentions/fantasies of sex and masturbation, obsession

Note: I wrote most of this in an hour. No one speak to me, I am unheathily in love with this yoongi. Also, I didn’t have the brainpower to write a like actual story with scenes and stuff, so I’ll probably post the little blurbs and such to go with this.

Until recently, Yoongi never found himself absorbed in his social media. Other than his members, and close personal friends he didn’t find himself scrolling aimlessly or jumping to see anyone’s new posts. That was until he stumbled on your profile. He was bored one night, and couldn’t sleep as he tossed and turned in bed so he went scrolling through his feed to check out what the other members were up to. He huffed as he accidentally clicked on Jin’s likes rather than hearting them. 

He would’ve click off right away like usual, but he stopped at the last second to see your profile nestled towards the top of the list. He tilted his head, why not check out some profiles? It would pass the time and hopefully bore his insomnia away. Maybe it would have worked if he hadn't spent well over an hour just looking at your posts, reading every caption; piecing together some kind of life story to go with your admittedly cute face. He closed Instagram and called it a night, thinking nothing more of you.

Too bad he woke up the next morning, sleep-deprived and cranky; only to open Instagram and scroll. Just for a few minutes to wake up, but eventually, he found himself typing in your username without much of a thought as to if you had posted- you had. He had to stop himself from liking it. What was he thinking? He could only imagine what would come from his official account liking some random girl's post just minutes after she posted it.

No more, he told himself, there was no need to go to your profile to kill boredom. He got ready for the day and headed to the studio to do something far more productive.

Productivity came hard though, as every day his desire to check your profile grew. He couldn’t help it, you were so cute and your posts were addicting- there wasn’t even much special about them, Yoongi told himself one evening, but still he looked. After a week of taking in every selfie and photo, reading your captions closely, and making his way through your older posts; he had completely sunken into the never-ending hole that was stalking your profile. He made note of everything you did, your likes, what you ate that day; it felt weird at first, but every day he found himself caring less and less. He was alone, doing it in his free time. You posted it all for people to see, so didn’t he have a right to look?

Every few minutes he checked for your updates, he hated not being able to follow you. Sometimes the temptation to do so struck him hard, but he held off. He wanted to comment, and tell you how beautiful you were. How much he loved your interests and humor, hated how you interacted with other men in your comments. He wanted to talk to you, this wasn’t fair. Didn’t he deserve to talk to you?

Yoongi was drinking more than usual, why? He couldn’t say. Maybe sipping on liquor and staring at you has become his new favorite pastime. He spent god knows how long locked in his studio doing it, his work neglected as he favored you. He’d get tipsy, get flirty and think about everything he’d say to you. He typed it out sometimes, teasing the idea of sending you a message. 

He wanted to send them, so badly.

He’d get upset, start drinking more and then get sloppy with his messages. They turned from light and flirty to downright awful. Paragraphs filled with how much he wanted you, in every way he wanted you. How he thought about going to that cafe you were always at just to see you, how he wanted to give you everything, how he wanted to touch you; how he wanted to fuck you and never speak to you again, or how he wanted to be with you forever. Use you. Love you.

Sometimes he would get a little too worked up thinking about, staring at pictures as you went out in cute outfits with your friends. Tonight was starting to feel that way, he was leaning back at his desk, eating up your new post about going out to the bar with some old friends. You weren’t that dressed up, inches of your skin weren't on display. You looked how you usually did, but Yoongi found himself shifting in his seat uncomfortably as his cock twitched in his pants. He was growing warm, mouth a bit dry as he m ogled over your pictures. Never had he considered himself to be so needy like this, but he couldn’t help but to slip down his pants and tug at his cock. Just thinking about you did something to him, made him want to whine for you to touch him; be with him.

He stood, one hand keeping him propped up against his desk as his head lulled down, little grunts and half moans filling the dark studio. His eyes fluttered open, looking at the space of the empty desk beneath him. He could imagine you laying there under him. Thrown with care in a rush of passion, his hungry eyes traced your every curve. Sometimes his fantasies felt so real, in the daze of lust he’d reach for you under him only to be reminded that you weren’t there.

He’d wake up the next morning and feign guilt for even thinking to speak to anyone that way, but deep down he knew he had passed guilt a long time again. What he said was true, and he wanted you to know it. He never felt guilt for getting off to the thought of you though. You were always posting such cute photos, didn’t he deserve to do it?

Two months into his insistent stalking a new face started to appear in your posts. Though you always said he was a friend in your captions or comments, Yoongi felt an immense weight of jealousy on his shoulders every time. Sometimes he could barely look at your profile, you posted too much with that damn guy. It pissed him off, unreasonable anger boiling in his as he gripped his phone tighter and rolled his eyes. The way you let other men put their hands on you. His arm was thrown over your shoulder, smiling ear to ear, or how when he held your waist in one. 

He’d get drunk and think about all the nasty things he’d call you, and all the horrible things he’d do to that guy if he ever saw him. 

Call him insane, but he created a fake profile just days after so that his fantasies of talking to you could be true. Still, locked in his dark studio with desire squirming and eating at his insides, he went all in. He couldn’t calm himself down to play it cool- he was damn near begging you to stop posting that guy, to accept his affection and not his. He went on and on about you, how he had been watching your profile- how one day he saw you at your favorite cafe, that he waited for hours hoping you’d come.

You read it but didn’t reply.

Tonight he was fuming, and a bit tipsy as he looked at your new post. He wet his lips, eyes burning as he kept a hard stare on his screen. Whoever that guy you are with was, he looked pathetic. Yoongi could only sneer. If only you knew that he had messaged you, not some random faceless man, but Min Yoongi- the Min Yoongi. Far superior to any random man you would ever post in your feed.

Rather than continued to gravel at the will of your Instagram feed with fucked up fantasies of you, occasionally hoping to see you in public and just look at your beauty. He should be making you chase him. If only you knew, you’d be at his fucking feet in an instant. The image sent a thrill to his head. He didn’t care about keeping his ego in check anymore. He was Min Yoongi; a genius producer, a worldwide superstar. Other men could never compare, you should be at his feet begging for every part of him.

He deserved you, how dare you disrespect him? How dare you not reply to his messages, shouldn’t you be grateful? You post so much, didn’t you deserve this?

He dragged a hand through his hair, his mind clouded with lust as he stared at your story. You were laying in bed with your cat, smiling as it walked over your stomach, the camera panning up to your smile as you giggled. A harmless video was no longer harmless to him, everything set him off. Everything you did made him want you more. He couldn’t recall a time that he had yearned so hard for someone, but it felt so good. He lets out a light sigh, rubbing himself over his jeans as he thinks about how you’d look so much better laying in his bed, or over his desk, or anywhere as long as he was there.

Though, he didn’t whine for you or think about how much he wanted you with him; he thought about how he deserved your presence. You should be here letting him have you, he deserved it. He was Yoongi, you should be here all over him. His eyes passed over his liquor bottles sitting untouched, he had stopped having to get drunk to think about you this way weeks ago. He ignored what that said about him, or how it marked how he was changing every day; falling deeper into a worse person.

He didn’t care anymore, he was Yoongi. He could do what he wanted, he had every right to treat you like this in his head and through the messages you still ignored. He wondered for just a second what the others would think of him if they found out. One day Namjoon had almost seen the messages on his phone, and Yoongi almost challenged him to see them and say something. So confident in his obsessions he was. 

He was Min Yoongi after all, he deserved to have you at his feet worshiping him.

[sillyromance]

Heres a fun request. How about heatwave being stubborn and clingy to his prey?(aka the reader?)

Good day, dear anonymous!

I'm really sorry that it took so long to write this - I was emotionally burn out, so it was hard to force myself doing anything... However, finally, It's finished!

Hope you enjoy!

The deal.

- Hey, let me out!

-...

- "Earth calls Heatwave!"

- Nope.

- Heatwave, it's not right! I can't sit here all day!

- I said "No"! You'll stay in there as long as it's needed. You're grounded after all!

You kicked the wall in front and frowned, crossing your arms.

Pumpkin head! He won't get away with this...

You almost fell into the fire while helping him and Kade to put it out from a building in the center of the town that morning. You was caught just in time, coughing out smoke getting into your lungs and violently eating your eyes. Though you didn’t quite understand what happened because literally at the next moment you were thrown into the pitch darkness. Something big and wet was moving quickly underneath, efficiently coating you in sticky liquid rapidly pouring into the room. That was a minute when you figured out the situation. But, before you could even think to protest, the bot's glossa bent deftly - you shrieked, sliding down like a skier via icy snow. Your legs and torso were unceremoniously dragged into tight, humid space with a powerful, demanding gulp, your arms securely held to your sides. So, the only thing that could do was to grunt in irritation as your huge robotic partner forced you down his throat, tracing a moving bulge passing through his thick neck and chest - and feeling as you were wriggling grumpily.

You arrived in the fueltank. Being released from the uncomfortably strong grip of the esophagus, you stretched your arms and legs, then curled up, allowing the organ to give you its usual snuggly "check-up". Frankly, it wasn't so bad; you relaxed, adrenaline leisurely washing away from your veins and your pulse normalizing. The walls gleamed with soft blue glow; its deep, calm hue was the best treatment for your sore eyes. Cool air flowing around Heatwave's internals healed your poisoned lungs. The living metal kneaded upon your tiny form, harmless gurgles and confident, measured sparkbeat being soothing and luring as always. You even gave yourself a chance to pass out for a half of an hour or so; this short sleep session refreshed you perfectly after the great distress you experienced.

However... As you woke up, you began to wonder. Time was passing, and so impatience was slowly growing in your chest. Of course, it was good to take a break from everything, but you had never been a lazy butt! Peace, when it lasts for too long, is demoralizing and fatal for a person, especially for as energetic one as you were. So, finally, you couldn't wait any longer. And even if you wasn’t so active – everyone could get bored sitting cooped up and thinking if they were getting out at all!

That was when you two had this short conversation.

You knew, he was just too caring even if he didn't want to admit it. Heatwave could be deadly annoying and irascible, sometimes even rude; despite all his positive characteristics all the people around were absolutely agree on the point that he had an unbearably "hot" temper.

Regardless, no one else could be as thoughtful and caring as he was to those he loved, especially to you. No doubt, dating someone like him could cause terrible headaches... But these relationships truly worth it.

And still, that time he crossed the line.

- Jerk... - You crawled away from the front wall as far as you could and sat down in the corner, hugging your knees. You saw the silhouette of his servo searching for you from the outside, but you was too exasperated to let him touch you now.

Slight swaying of your chamber stopped; he stood still.

- I can hear everything, you know? - The mech grunted; it was simple to recognize he was insulted.

- Very glad to know. Live with it. - You hissed. Temptation to hit him once more was strong, however you kept yourself from this action. There was no need in pushing the limits of his patience.

Heatwave just snorted and continued… whatever he was doing. You could only catch muffed sounds of your friends' voices laughing and chatting outside. Though, it was clear that the building would require modernization; well, Boulder and Graham would be glad to provide good help with that. The fire was gone, all people were safe and sound...

Suddenly, you recalled the moment when that damn board cracked under your feet and you almost collapsed right into the flame. You didn't even have time to get frightened back then. However, the vivid memory made your heart skip a beat. The suit wouldn't let your body to get burnt instantly... But it didn't mean you could escape easily either. What if you was alone? The wall was high enough as well as the risks that you would break an arm or a leg if you truly fell down. Toxic gases, heat, injuries and tormenting death were the real things which awaited you at that hell. So, didn't your lover do the right thing encapsulating you here? Of course, it seemed a little bit extreme. But his reaction was purely logical after all.

While such thoughts were circulating in your head, the atmosphere outside calmed down. Quite soon it became obvious you and Heatwave stayed alone. He was walking; considering the distance between the area of the accident and the location of the base, you felt even more grateful to him for not transforming into the vehicle mode - though it wouldn't do you any damage, such experience couldn't be called pleasant since you would be thrown into the walls for a hundred times...

You gave the fueltank a softer look. You did come here often, actually. This wrinkly, warm room turned into your private spot where Heatwave sometimes hid you from the rest of the world. He wasn't a fan of going out like other couples did; he must be thinking it was ruining his authority and the image of a severe, stoic bot he always tried to be. However, you two found a way to satisfy your great need in cuddles without Heatwave feeling embarrassed – and going even more red than he had already been.

... That was the reason why there were moments when you "disappeared" from the station. Although, everyone knew (or predicted) where you could be found.

It was like a piece of cake to forget about all the troubles while lying in the bed of alive squishy flesh and listening to the sounds of complicated work happening around. The mech didn't admit this, but he liked the sensation of your weight moving around his fueltank and giving him some nice internal rubs; your presence stabilized his thoughts, made him confident and calm because he was "in charge" of the situation. Losing control was Heatwave's the greatest fear. But feeling you inside him, under the layers of his thick armor, in the place no one could reach you provided him with a comforting knowledge of full responsibility. Nothing could go wrong – he wouldn't allow it.

Protection. All the autobots had sworn to protect humanity, but here was an exceptional situation. You inevitably felt that it was safe to rely on the red bot since the very first day of your partnership with Heatwave. He did everything in his powers to defend you no matter secretly or officially. As he was opening up for you and you both were carefully growing feelings for each other, one day it appeared he was constantly nervous about you could suddenly... die. It wasn't a maniacal obsession with the idea, but more likely a hyper-cautiousness. There were so many threats around people who were so small and fragile. Marota's machines reminded him of the war his brothers in arms had to fight in... It was similar to how he watched after Cody. Surely, such attitude seemed offensive to you from time to time - you weren't a child after all! But he was genuinely worried. That made him swallow you in a sec that time too.

And that shall be respected.

You crawled out of your gap and moved closer to the front wall again. Once you gently stroked it with your lap, the place shivered and tightened around you, the fueltank giving you a lovely hug.

He noticed the change.

- Heatwave...

- Hm?

- I'm sorry.

The sparkbeat above you fastened up, though the bot didn't answer. Fighting with anxiety rising deep inside - apologizing was definitely the hardest thing in the universe - you continued rapidly, still caressing slick, blue muscles holding you.

- I really am... I shouldn't have behaved like that. I know you're mad at me being such a clumsy person - I will be more careful next time. Please, don't go crazy about what happened. I promise, I can stand for myself.

The giant remained silent for some more time; his large hand slightly poked at your tiny figure, then laid firmly at his waist – you could sense its comforting pressure from the outside. Heatwave softly chuckled.

- I know. I should apologize too. You're not a baby, you know... Just, watch where you step. Deal?

- Deal.

You smiled, nuzzling into the flexible flesh wrapping you entirely like a thick blue blanket, and didn’t notice as you dozed off again, snuffing peacefully while sleeping...

[tenns-secret-night]

Sweet Dreams, Sweet Night.

Ramuda x M!Reader x Gentaro

A/N: Inspired by this art because I’m going FERAL. I may rewrite this later with Dice if I ever figure out how to write him bc I also love him.

Genre: Fluff, Mentions of spice but nothing happens, Mild Hurt/Comfort if you squint, Ramuda Lore spoilers if you squint

Characters: Gentaro Yumeno, Ramuda Amemura

Warnings: They sleep in the nude, mentions of explicit topics. All fluff but still.

It wasn’t hard to feel out of place with your lovers sometimes.

They had been together before you, and despite their reassurances that they both wanted you as much as they wanted each other, it still felt like they were walking on eggshells around you.

You decided to give them some space for each other, it would be best right? They clearly loved each other more than they loved you…

Ramuda was the first to notice your distance. You didn’t hug him and Gentaro as long when you visited their apartment that day, you weren’t as talkative, your smile was shallow.

And he would know the best how to spot that.

Gentaro also picked up on your distance, deciding not to pursue the topic, he didn’t want to upset you, but each time you have a light sigh when you thought they couldn’t hear, broke his heart.

You were to the left of Ramuda, watching TV. Gentaro was to his right, his arm wrapped around the fashion designer’s shoulder. You felt miles away.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

Maybe you didn’t belong.

You gave another reflexive sigh and began to stand from the couch, before Ramuda hugged your arm tightly.

“Where are you going?” He looked at you softly, a pout on his face, “We aren’t boring you are we?”

You freeze, “No, I just…”

Ramuda looks at you, his eyes piercing through whatever excuse you were making.

“Just that- you guys obviously want to be with each other more than me… I was gonna give you your alone time.” You feel your face grow hot

“Are you serious?” Ramuda’s voice falters from its normal tone to his more natural, darker tone. You feel your mouth go dry, “If we didn’t love you, why would we keep doing this with you?”

You were quiet.

“We don’t feel comfortable around you? Is that it?” Gentaro finally speaks, at some point he had moved to the other side of you, gently taking your hand.

You nod.

“It would be untrue to say we haven’t been holding back around you…” Gentaro continues, “I sincerely apologize for making you feel alienated.”

“We just didn’t want to scare you,” Ramuda holds your arm firmer, coaxing you to sit back down. He turns to Gentaro, “We just love him too much to scare him away, right Gen?”

Gentaro nods, you sit back down and immediately both of them pull you into their arms.

“I won’t be scared,” you say, softly, “I want to see every part of you.”

Gentaro smirks, “My, my, you’re being quite bold dear, we haven’t even all been together for that long and already you’re leading me down a path of temptation.”

Your face goes hot

“That was but a lie” He smiles again, pressing a small kiss to your forehead.

Ramuda rests his head on your chest, looking up at you.

“You should stay the night!” He beams, his usual cheery demeanor back

Which is how you got to where you are now. They had led you into their shared room.

“We usually sleep in the nude, is that alright for you, Lovely?” Gentaro has a mischievous glint in his eye.

You suddenly feel shy but nod, “Um, okay!”

Ramuda bursts into laughter.

“Another lie,” Gentaro hides a chuckle.

You dart your eyes away from them, feeling embarrassed for agreeing so quickly.

“You know,” Ramuda approaches you, placing his hands on your shoulders, “it would be a way to grow closer~”

“I’m not,” you stammer out, “I’m not ready to do anything like that.”

They both chuckle to themselves.

“Dearest,” Gentaro begins, “Of course we don’t want to push you, it’s only sleeping, we won’t do anything you don’t want to.”

Ramuda nods to affirm this.

“We don’t have to get undressed if you don’t want to. Either way, nothing will happen that you don’t want to.” Ramuda presses a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“I’ll get undressed. Just to sleep though.” You mumble. Certain of yourself.

You still feel a bit shy, but you trust the both of them.

“I’ll do it.” You affirm again, with more confidence.

Gentaro is the next to approach you, taking your hand again.

“If you are not comfortable, don’t feel forced to do anything.” He smiles

“I want to.” You affirm again

Ramuda giggles and immediately starts to undress himself, throwing himself onto the bed.

Gentaro is next, taking his time with his own clothes before helping you with yours.

“If you ever feel uncomfortable please let us know.” He smiles softly, leading you to the bed.

You go to lay on the side of Ramuda, before he moves, placing you in the middle.

“You. You get all the love from us tonight,” he hugs you, placing his head on your chest, “No escaping to the corner for you mister!”

Both of your lovers gently wrap their arms around you, and you feel your eyelids grow heavy.

—

A/N: this was really bad and self indulgent but that art had me FEELING things

[seizethedre]

(In the Land of Gods and Monsters)

Chapter Six: Living in the Garden of Evil

The King of Hell is a real piece of work, but he's getting there. The Radio Demon is a piece of work too, but he seems much more content to stay where he is, which is fine too. Somehow, they manage.

Ten thousand years of being the supreme ruler of Hell tended to teach you a thing or two about yourself. For one, Lucifer was powerful-–like really powerful. And while the other Sins came close to that power, none of them could ever quite measure up to the fallen angel. 

Lucifer had always known his strength, of course. Even in Heaven, he knew his status and his gifts were worthy of envy, you know, if angels were capable of such feelings. Sinners certainly wanted his power, just ask any overlord out there. The occasional coup was nothing new, either, and the king had come to expect one every few centuries or so, with just enough time between them for the shockwaves of the last one to settle and the balance of powers to redistribute themselves again.

It was never anything to worry about and most ended with big, scary tough guys reduced to blubbering pools of tears as they pleaded for their afterlives. And no, he wasn’t exaggerating when he said that a sinner’s existence could be obliterated with a single bored blink of his eye.

Not that Lucifer particularly enjoyed killing sinners all willy-nilly, but he had to maintain law and order somehow, and being in Hell the options for doing so were already severely limited. So squashing bad guys it was. Did he feel bad about it? Not really. He’d never felt that same loyalty to his people that his ex-wife and daughter did, and quite frankly he’d stopped trying to force it out of himself a few thousand years ago, but he was trying. Recent events and relationships persuaded him to reconsider his stance on sinners and maybe, just maybe, he was starting to get it.

Still, you couldn’t blame the guy for wanting to flaunt his power every now and then. There was, after all, no comparison to it in the entirety of the Seven Rings. Sometimes he couldn’t help himself and no one ever said that the First Temptation was ever immune to temptations himself.

Embodiment of pride aside, Lucifer should also be recognized as the embodiment of patience. You would think that after waiting for the creation of literally everything that people would give him more credit when it came to letting the stars align and fall into place at their own pace. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case and more often than not the assumption was that the King of Hell was an impatient little snake who wanted things done his way or no way at all.

Father, you push your agenda one time and suddenly you’re labeled as a devil for the rest of forever.

And so what if today happened to be one of the few times where Lucifer wished the stars would just go off and fuck themselves, alignment be damned. There wasn’t much that got him real fired up these days and his mind had been brewing all night long, practically vibrating in his bed where he tossed and turned restlessly, anxiously waiting for darkness to creep into something light enough that would allow him to bounce off the walls without making the other residents think he was an unreasonable loon. 

After running their little taste-testing errand the other day, Alastor and Lucifer had returned to the hotel in one piece-–much to the surprise of everyone else. The former didn’t linger long enough, slipping into a pool of vaporous shadow before he could be subjected to  Angel’s remarks about how their orderly states were clearly an indication of a budding, yet taboo love affair, because why else wouldn’t there be a single scratch on either of them? Thankfully, the king didn’t have to come back at him with anything before Husk smacked the spider upside the head with an irritated ‘Quit your yapping.’ And you know what, grouchiness aside, the guy was really starting to grow on Lucifer. 

Ha-ha! Take that, yapper.

The little excursion of his had served as a perfect reminder of what Lucifer had been missing. Clearly it had been a while since he’d really gotten himself out there, really gotten to know the people he ruled. Regardless of how they wound up here, they surely couldn’t be all bad. I mean, Wilson, at least he was pretty sure lizard-man’s name was Winston, was a fucking baker for crying out loud! There’s no way a guy who cares that much about the precision of the length of his decorative chocolate shavings can be a complete asshole, right? And if Lucifer was wrong about him, who knew what else he could be wrong about. 

Okay, so maybe he owed a little bit of this change in heart to Charlie and her friends, but he couldn’t argue the fact that they were a good influence on him. The simple fact that they stuck by the hotel to defend it spoke volumes of their character and commitment to its cause. Sure they had a few screws loose, but who didn’t own here? The fact of the matter is, they were living proof that even if redemption for a sinner in Hell wasn’t possible, at least change for the  better was still on the table. See, even the embodiment of Pride himself could admit when he was wrong, and maybe this was one of those times. And maybe that was all thanks to his daughter

Charlie had always been a bit of a bleeding heart. For years, this had worried her father tremendously. Hell was no place for such a tender spirit, and he was afraid that this place and these people would eat her alive just to spit her out and stomp all over her. The older she got the more he had tried to protect her from that, even when he wasn’t around. 

When she had first called him all those months ago asking for a shot to convince Heaven to let sinners prove themselves, Lucifer shot her down immediately. Not because he didn’t trust her vision, but because he didn’t trust Heaven. For all their talk about love and forgiveness, they were notorious for maintaining the status quo, regardless of how many souls they harmed in the process. Expecting to be disappointed in Hell was a given, but to have your hopes and dreams dashed by those meant to uplift and promote them was another and the thought of her enduring that all alone just as he had all those millennia ago broke his heart.

But she’d done it. She faced the firing squad all on her own and despite their treatment she continued to fight for her righteous cause, for her people and her friends. Lucifer couldn’t take credit for that courage. Maybe at one point, perhaps almost too long ago could he say that his heart burned with that same fire, but times, circumstances, had changed and he had no choice but to change alongside them. He was proud of his little girl, and now that he was here and determined to stick by her until the very end, whatever it would turn out to be, he wanted to help as much as he could.

And who knew, maybe in doing this, in helping Charlie, he would be able to reunite himself with that version of him that got a little lost along the way.

He also couldn’t deny the fact that Alastor’s little back-handed intervention sparked some new encouragement in him, too, as much as he hated to admit it. The demon was infuriating, but he’d had a point when he said that Lucifer was worrying pointlessly over things that didn’t require it. Instead, he decided that he would channel some of that energy into something productive, and hey, wouldn’t you know it Charlie maybe your little group therapy sessions really do hold up.

 Plus, it was about time he stopped holing himself in his rooms all the damn time, it didn’t really do anyone any good and besides, he was starting to look a little pale-–ha! He figured it wouldn’t hurt the hotel’s image, or his own for that matter, to be seen around the hotel playing a more conducive role than a scary guard dog. Surely people would be more willing to come and visit if they knew their friendly neighborhood devil was around to lend a helping hand. Who knows, maybe if things turned out as well as he hoped, Charlie would put him back on the welcoming committee.

Point of the matter was, Lucifer felt he had a lot more to offer than sitting around and pulling a mean face every now and then. He wanted to contribute to the hotel in a way that was productive and lent itself to the betterment of his people. He had learned a thing or two in his long life and was sure at least some of that had to come in handy at one point or another. And if this idea of his really did work out, it could help alleviate some of the burden that Charlie shouldered day in and day out. 

So, as the barest trickle of light crept past his curtains from outside, Lucifer sprang from his bed and set off to accomplish the first-–and only-–thing on his to-do list: start an art therapy club!

With a snap of his fingers the bed was remade with fresh linens, the old ones appearing in the basement’s laundry room. Thinking about his day, he settled on a more casual outfit befitting of the more casual events he had in mind, foregoing the hat and coat he typically opted for on more glamorous occasions. He then ran his fingers through his hair, allowing just enough of  his grace to flow past his fingertips to smooth and style his bed head into something neat and presentable, befitting of the King of Hell. Grace was by far the best hair product out there, hell knows how people lived without it. If he could bottle it up and sell it, he was sure it would sell out in minutes and he’d be swimming in cash, but some tricks were better left unrevealed. 

Pep in his step, he strode down the stairs, making it down the third flight before he decided that he simply couldn’t wait any longer and opened up a portal to the front lobby. Snapping it shut behind him, he took a look around the empty room, trying to figure out where Charlie might be that morning.

After he swung by to see if she and Vaggie were setting up for this morning’s bonding exercise in the parlor, he trotted along into the kitchen for some coffee. Hey, what’s that they say about two birds and a stone?

Much to his disappointment, there was no sign of Charlie once he parted his way past the double doors. There was, however, sign of a certain deer-man, and by sign he meant the whole fucking person. 

Alastor was sitting in his usual spot at the head of the dining table, you know, the one he had refused to give up despite the literal ruler of Hell being much more worthy of it. Not that Lucifer was still bitter about that or anything. The demon was reading the morning newspaper, steaming cup of something dark and bitter in a hot pink mug. Not exactly intimidating, but who was Lucifer to judge when his own mug sported the images of several cartoon ducks. However this was the first time that he noticed there was actual writing on the mug, which he craned his neck to read.

“Does your mug say ‘Oh Deer’ on it?”

“Hm?” Alastor hums, turning the mug in his hand as though observing it for the first time. “Why yes, it would appear to say just that. Very observant, Your Majesty. I see you’ve taken my advice and invested in some cognitive exercises. I’ve always been of the opinion that reading is good for the soul and the mind.”

“Har har, you’re especially hilarious in the morning, has anyone ever told you so?”

“I have been told that I have quite the sense of humor. Who am I to argue with the masses?”

Lucifer pulled a face at his reply, just an impulse away from sticking his tongue out at the back of the sinner’s head for good measure. Eh, why not. It’s not like he could see him anyway.

“I saw that.” 

Shit . That was creepy

“You deserved it,” he sang in response, plucking his mug from its designated hook and filled it with coffee. It was still hot and warmed his hands deliciously. He took a cautious sniff and although it certainly smelled normal enough, he knew he could never be too careful.

“Did you brew the coffee this morning?”

“I don’t believe that anyone else was awake to do it.” Fair point.

“...Did you poison it?���

Alastor set the paper down with a huff, ears twitching in irritation. 

“Do you really think I would be drinking it if I had?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t actually seen you drink it since I got here.” Alastor says nothing, but raises his mug dramatically to his lips and takes a long sip, flicking his gaze pointedly in the king’s direction. Lucifer watches suspiciously for a few moments after he sets his mug back down on the table with a little clack.

“Satisfied?”

“For now. I suppose.” He takes his own careful sip and smacks his lips. His impeccable palate has never failed him before, and today it’s telling him that he’ll live to see another day. Hooray!

“I don’t know why you throw such a fuss over such trivial things. It’s not like there’s anything that I could actually harm you with in this realm.” And oh, was that irritation Lucifer was picking up on? Genuine emotion from mister Big and Bad himself? Rarely did anyone ever get anything but mockery and sarcasm out of the guy, so this morning was already shaping up to be a good one by Lucifer’s standards.

“Hm, you know if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you’re a little upset that I’m always one step ahead of you. What’s the matter, deer , afraid of being outsmarted?

“Not at all, Your Majesty .” he ground out between clenched teeth. “ I would simply think that you would have more faith in your own durability, rather than throw a fit any time I’m near something you  hope to ingest. Heaven forbid the word gets out that Hell's one and only monarch is a fragile little thing. Oh my, think of the headlines!”

“Aw, Al, I didn’t realize how much you cared. No need to worry about me, though. I’m a big boy who can  handle himself, thanks.”

“I know you may find it difficult to believe, but my thoughts don’t always revolve around you. And my name is Alastor . I’d appreciate it if you could struggle to the end of it. I know that’s a lot to ask of  you these days.” That smile had curved into something mean, challenging even.

 Okay, so that’s how he wants to play, huh? Bring it on then.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes, coffee long forgotten as flames licked the back of his mouth, ready to spew.

“Good morning, Alastor! How did you-–Oh! Dad, you’re here, too! Good morning!”

One of Charlie’s many gifts was her impeccable timing. Growing up, she always knew just the right moment to enter a room and  catch her parents in, erm, more compromising positions.. That was why her sudden bursting into the kitchen right as verbal fists were about to start flying came to no one’s surprise, especially her father’s. These days, it seemed that sixth sense of hers came in handy when it boiled down to preventing altercations before they escalated to property damage proportions. Crisis thoroughly averted, the flames smothered as Lucifer beamed at his little girl. Alastor spared the smaller man a twitch before resuming his study of the morning paper.

“Char-Char! How’s my little girl doing this fine morning? Slept well, I hope?” The king bounced himself into one of the barstools at the breakfast bar. He cupped his face in his hands as he leaned intently over the counter, eyes sparkling as he watched Charlie grab two mugs for coffee. 

Was he overbearing? Perhaps a little, but he couldn’t help that his sweet daughter was like a literal ray of sunshine in this dark and smelly pit he called home. She dove right into her coffee, clearly oblivious to the dangers of potential-assassination attempts, which he would definitely be speaking to her about later. She sighed, releasing a breath as she forced her shoulders to relax.

“Good coffee, Al. As always.” The demon merely hummed his acknowledgement of the compliment, not bothering with taking his eyes off of the news. She turned her attention to the angel. “I slept well, dad, thanks for asking. Thank god because I have so much to do today.” Charlie began rattling off the items on her mental to-do list, going from casual to agitated in the span of a few seconds.

“First I have to go over the final decorations for the Open House–-again, thank you so much for covering desserts, you’re a real life-saver, dad. Then there’s some laundry I promised Niffty I would help her with in the afternoon, and our yoga instructor was murdered last night so I have to figure out how to fill his time slot in the evening  and on top of that it’s my turn to cook dinner tonight and Vaggie won’t be around to help this time so it’s going to take me twice as long as it usually does. Ooh, that’s not even including the meeting I have with Aunty Bee about those new spirits for the bar and--”

“Whoa, whoa,” Lucifer interrupted, seeing no end in sight to her itinerary and only mounting levels of stress. “Pause for a second, Charlie. Breathe. There you go.” She’d gone red in the face at that point, her tail springing out from agitation and best get that under control before she started knocking things, or people, over. The princess smiled sheepishly, mumbling her apologies .

“My, that does seem like quite the list of chores you’ve got there. But, leave it to our dear Charlie to get it all done.” Lucifer scowled over his shoulder at the demon sipping casually from his mug without a single care in the world.

“Um, excuse me, Al , but  I was under the impression that you were brought on board to help run the hotel. Shouldn’t you be helping out here?”

“Hm, shouldn’t you , Your Majesty? I do recall you saying something about wanting to play a more active role in your daughter’s life. Now would be the perfect time to do just that, don’t you think so, dear?”

Alastor finally put the damn newspaper down, settling his smile first on Lucifer before swiveling it over to Charlie, who had been standing around suspiciously quiet as the two men went at it. She startled at the mention of her name, eyes going big and round as though caught in the middle of something she really didn’t want to be a part of. 

“Um, well, I-–”

“Of course I’m going to help her,” Lucifer yelled, cutting Charlie off before she could finish her thought. “In fact, we’re both  going to help you, sweetie. Isn’t that right, Al?” Try to weasel your way out of it now, bitch.

“I appreciate the offer, dad really, but I don’t want you to feel like this is something you have to do. You’re a busy guy, I get that. I’m sure Alastor has his own things to do, too. Plus,” she added quietly, “I know how easily you get overwhelmed these days. It’s okay, I can handle this.” Lucifer faltered at her words, visibly deflating and allowed his facade to fall for a split second before throwing an arm around her shoulder and grinning.

“Nonsense, Charlie! In fact, that’s exactly why I wanted to talk to you this morning. Yoga man couldn’t have picked a better time to die, ha ha!” Hm, poor choice of words maybe, but honest nonetheless. “What would you think about filling that evening slot with an art therapy session? Led by yours truly, of course.” 

Charlie seemed to mull it over as Lucifer held his wide smile, examining her face as she went through the pros and cons. On one hand, she knew that her dad didn’t exactly have a one-track mind, in fact most of the time he was the entire train station. And although she didn’t doubt his capacity for patience and empathy, a lot of sinners that came through the hotel required a more delicate hand and her dad tended to fall on the more oblivious side of the spectrum when it came to emotional cues. 

On the other hand, this could turn out to be a really good thing. For the hotel and for her dad. She knew he really was trying to change, to see these people as his own. Perhaps spending time with them while doing something that he loved was the motivation he needed to finally get him to where he needed to be. And if she was being honest, her dad was a really talented artist. For years she had wondered why he never truly divulged that part of himself with others, outside of his ducks, of course, but she’d concluded that for some reason his art was deeply personal and emotional to him. The fact that he was offering to share it with strangers all in the name of progress was monumental and she was wise enough to understand just how big of an ask this was.

“Are you sure about this dad? I don’t want you to feel pressured into taking on a challenge that you’re not ready for.” Her smile was small, but sincere, eyes shining with nothing but love and understanding. The sight was almost enough to bring tears to her father’s eyes. His daughter truly was the best. 

“Don’t worry about me, ducky. Your old man can handle it. Would I offer to do it if I wasn’t sure?”

“I suppose not,” she sniffed, brushing a finger under her eye. “Thanks, dad.”

The two embraced, Charlie crouching down a bit so Lucifer could run a gentle hand over her hair, a larger imitation of how he used to cradle her in his arms when she was little and in need of a good cuddle.

This is nice , Lucifer thought to himself. He couldn’t have asked for a better outcome to this conversation.

“What a tender moment. I hate to interrupt, but I’ll be doing so anyway. Charlie dear, don’t you worry your silly little head about dinner tonight. I would be more than glad to step in. Rosie shared the most delightful little recipe with me just the other day and this is as good an excuse as any other to try it out.” The demon blinked, all wide smile and bright eyes as the pair in front of him turned a pale green at his suggestion for supper. “I will be going the vegetarian route, rest assured!” Oh, okay, yeah that’s more like it.

“Really, Al? Aw, you guys are so sweet. You don’t know how much this means to me. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Charlie, whose tears had finally settled down, tried to smile through wobbly lips and glistening eyes. Alastor waved a hand dismissively in her direction.

Oh, don’t thank me. I think I speak for all of us when I say I’d be doing us a favor in cooking our meal knight in your place. The kitchen is practically brand new, it would be a shame to let it go up in flames so soon, hm?”

“Alastor,” the king warned.

“No dad, it’s okay. He’s right. I didn’t exactly inherit the cooking gene, did I?” And Lucifer found that he couldn’t necessarily argue with that point either.

“You just need a little more practice, that’s all,” he tried, a half-hearted grin hanging off his lips. The princess just laughed, visibly far more relaxed than she had been ten minutes ago. Good, good. 

“Well, this has been a delightful morning, you two, but I’m afraid I must be off now. Important things to do and whatnot. A hotelier’s work is never quite done, after all. Ta ta!” 

With a warp of white noise, the Radio Demon melted into the shadows at his feet, taking with him the ambient noise that had accompanied their morning encounter.

“Huh, that was weird,” Charlie said absently.

“Hm?” Lucifer inquired, raising a brow.

“Al didn’t take his staff with him. He usually never leaves without it.” She paused, seeming to consider something for a few seconds. ‘Come to think of it, he hasn’t had it out much lately either. Not in the hotel at least. It could be nothing,” she rushed to add, seeing the wary interest on the king’s face and immediately knowing that she had let her mouth run unsupervised for far too long. “I know he can pull it out of whatever pocket dimension or wherever he keeps it anytime he wants, I just thought it was odd that he doesn’t seem to be using it as much lately. I’m sure it’s nothing.” She looked around the room anxiously, eyes settling on her watch.

“Oh! Look at the time! I gotta go dad, I’m supposed to be helping Vaggie set up for trust exercises this morning. Love you, bye!” With those parting words she scurried out of the room, hands loaded up with two lukewarm mugs of coffee.

So Charlie had noticed Alastor’s odd behavior too, huh? She was far more observant than people gave her credit for, that much is true. 

Lucifer thought back to the last time he’d seen Alastor with his staff, when he was out in public galavanting around Pentagram City with the tall cannibal woman. But Charlie was right, now that he thought about it, it had been a while since he’d actually seen the demon conjure it up within the safety of the hotel, if at all. Not since he mysteriously reappeared after the hotel was rebuilt, seemingly unscathed despite squaring off with Adam.

The devil’s thoughts were racing now, branching out and spiraling in all sorts of directions, jumping to conclusions just to dismiss them and start anew. Despite the web of emotions and possibilities, the overarching truth that stood out from all of the questions and half-threaded leads was that Alastor was hiding something. Maybe even something big. And Lucifer would rather fall all over again than turn a blind eye to something that could endanger his little girl and this new life they were building together.

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