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delta-pavonis · 8 months

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Ooh, from the wip game: former mafia hob :D

I know I have posted bits and pieces of this in various places on Tumblr and Discord, but below is probably the largest segment of the WIP I have ever posted at once. And this is maybe about a quarter of it? It features an OC that I made up and then it turned out I was prescient because in my head Sandro looks pretty much exactly like Ethan from Maneskin. Also, to no one's surprise, this gets NSFW at the end. (WHAT?!? SMUT?!?!?! FROM MEEEE?!?!?!)

"And this guy, this Burgess, just had him locked in a giant glass sphere in his basement!"

"A human? Wouldn't he need air?"

Hob was in an ex-pat bar on the south end of Okinawa, doing a very good job of continuing to live completely off the grid just as he had for the past eight years.

The old man started up again and Hob strained to hear him across the length of the bar. "He just looked like a human. I worked there sixteen years and he didn't age a minute, hell he barely moved. I heard Burgess bragging once about how it was the God of Dreams that he caught! All I know for sure is what I heard directly, which is that Burgess kept asking him for things – magic, money, immortality – and the pale fucker just kept glaring at him. Never spoke a word. Just stared daggers with those unearthly blue eyes. I am telling you, if looks could kill, that old bastard would be dead thirty times over. Whenever that fairy King or whatever the fuck that shaved panther of a human-looking thing is gets out…" The guy whistled, leaning back from the bar and shaking his head. "The entire Burgess family tree is going to burn."

This man had Hob’s full attention now. He grabbed his drink and moved around to sit on the barstool next to him.

"I am sorry, where did you say you are from?" Hob asked, trying for casual, sizing up the ex-military guy. He had a muddled accent, but with a heavy dose of south London. His salt-and-pepper hair had been kept buzzed even though he had clearly been out of the service for a long time.

"What's it to you?" The man was immediately bristly, crossed his arms over his chest. He was defensive and closed off and Hob was going to need to work to get more information. Hob sighed. Or take the easy way out… just pay him for the information.

The Okinawan summer was too hot for this. Hob would give it one shot, try to explain, but if that didn't work it was Plan E for Easy. "I have an interest in the supernatural. And you certainly seem to have seen something. Could I ask you a few more questions?" The old-timer just stared at him, completely deadpan, unblinking. It made Hob take a sip of his whisky with its melted ice and then press the glass to his temple. "I can pay you for your time."

He perked up immediately after that.

> > > > > | | < < < < <

Two days later – and after an exchange of enough money to set that old-timer’s family up for generational wealth – Hob was settling into his Business Class seat on the long haul from Tokyo Haneda to Rome Fiumicino. He tapped out an email telling Gio his flight to Palermo was going to get in at 08:20 and would he be so kind as to send around a car? He needed to stop and see il Barone first (because his knee was bad enough as it was without getting kneecapped for failing to pay his respects) and then straight to the grotta. And make sure the shovel is in the car? Grazii.

It was his Stranger. It had to be. The description was uncanny. And the quick sketch Hob had drawn on a bar napkin had resulted in a rather emphatic positive identification.

And even if it wasn’t his Stranger, there was something being kept in that basement that probably needed rescue. There were paltry few things in the world, as Hob had learned over the centuries, that deserved to have their freedom completely taken from them.

Almost 22 hours after sending that email to Gio, Hob stepped out into the salty Mediterranean air of Palermo and sighed. His white linen three-piece suit with light blue shirt fit the aesthetic of the region as much as the weather. The smells, the breeze, the sounds – yeah, okay, Hob had missed it. But this was no time to linger. Focus, Hob! First, he had to give his regards to Salvatore and then he could go dig up his stash from his time in the Family Business. He put on his hat and dark sunglasses and walked out into the sunlight.

In the aftermath of 1889 Hob had, unsurprisingly, a lot of anger and frustration to work out. He ended up falling back on a reliable skill set he hadn't tapped in awhile: violence.

It was bare knuckle boxing first, which earned him enough money to leave for the States without disturbing his securities in the UK. He continued with underground boxing for a bit, because he was fucking good at it, until he got noticed.

Hob got picked up by Giuseppe “the Clutch Hand” Morello and Ignazio “the Wolf” Lupo and the rest was history.

First they took him in as a base-level associate, just another meatheaded guy who could fuck people up for them. And he made it to the Castellammarese War, which was as good a time as any to fake his own death.

But, by pure happenstance and a whole lot of luck, Salvatore D’Aquila caught him in the act, pig's blood everywhere, mutilated body that clearly wasn't Hob at his feet and well. That had required a bit of explaining. Explaining lead to talking, talking lead to negotiating, and suddenly Hob was heading upstate to train with the best.

And so it was, with some excellent mentorship on handling firearms and his innate knack for getting himself out of trouble, Hob became one of the most feared associates in Cosa Nostra.

In fact, he became The Associate.

See, he was never going to be a made man; he didn't have the proof of a Sicilian, or even Italian, heritage that he needed to be a ranking Family member. But any capo worth his salt wasn't going to turn away this level of skill and finesse.

And in return they had kept his secret. Mostly because they knew they had given him the means to kill them all if it was otherwise.

Well, it wasn’t like the entire Family knew. Just Salvatore and his immediate blood relations. Who he needed to stop and say hello to first, then to business.

Once the meeting was done, he headed to the coast.

When Hob left the Family Business he had literally put all of his gear into an air-tight oak box and buried it. One of the things Hob had learned over the centuries was that, more often than not, symbolism mattered. So it wasn't a surprise to find that when Hob opened the wooden box with a crowbar it was like seeing good friends come back from the dead. His shotgun. His sabre. His pistols.

He buried these along with his career in Cosa Nostra in 1998. It should have been earlier, but the six or so years after 1989 were a bit of an alcohol and cocaine tinted haze and it took him another three years after getting sober to work on his exit strategy. But once he was out he had abandoned it all and never looked back.

In fact, it was only in the past few months that Hob had let himself pick up a gun again to do some target shooting. Suddenly he was very glad of that coincidence.

After filling his duffle Hob stared down into the empty casket of his former life. He had never, ever expected to be in this position again, most certainly not less than a decade after abandoning it.

Crouched amongst the sand and the rocks of the beachfront cave, he ran a hand through his sweaty hair and sighed. "The things I do for you, Stranger." He closed the lid.

"Ti Umbra?" Sandro had been watching Hob silently up until now. Even as a little kid, Alessandro had called the thing that haunted Hob his Shadow. He was an eerily perceptive child, often ostracized from his peers because of it – which of course meant that when Hob had arrived in Sicily in the early 1980s they had become easy friends. Now in his early 30s, Sandro was mostly a driver, but knew his way around a weapon, as any son of a Don should. Hob had hoped he would leave, go to college, get out, but Hob never did convince him to. He was a good kid, he didn't deserve this kind of life.

"Si." Hob put his hands on his knees and levered himself up. "I think that he needs my help." A sigh as he kept staring at the box. "Am I that obvious?"

"Only to me, Bettino." The nickname had come from the diminutive of the diminutive of Roberto, which Sandro’s family knew Hob as. It was an endearment used only between them. "Only He could bring you back to this, to the Family." Hob felt the other man's hand on his shoulder and laid his own over it. The feel of those fingers was achingly familiar. "Let me come with you. You should not go on the rampage you are about to embark on alone, my friend."

Hob picked up Sandro's hand, placed a kiss on the knuckles. "Not a chance. I won't put you in such danger. And I won't let you see me like that." Alessandro hadn’t even been born yet when the Associate was working hardest, in the heydays of Murder, Inc., and all that entailed, when Hob rarely had a night when he wasn’t washing the gunpowder from his hands.

Sandro laughed. "I have seen you every other way, why not this one?" His arms went around Hob's shoulders from behind and he moved his lips to the shell of Hob's ear before dropping into Sicilian. "One more go at it? For old time's sake? Last chance to use me as His stand-in." He laughed even more at Hob's sharp inhale. "You think I didn't know? Oh, Bettino." He nuzzled into the hair at Hob’s nape. "That's how I was able to pretend you really loved me."

"Sandro!" Hob pushed away and whirled around, looking over his former lover’s dark hair and olive-bronze skin, high cheekbones and pouting pink lips, wiry build and black-brown eyes. Not wanting to misspeak, he answered back in English. "I did – and still do – really love you, you know that."

"Yes, but not as you love Him." Sandro shook his head as he moved in to press their foreheads together, arms back around Hob's shoulders. "You would not come back to the Family for me. You would not go to war for me. And that is okay. I know my place. I made my peace with that years ago, when you left." He leaned in to speak against Hob's lips. "But I would ask if you would have me one last time."

Hob let Sandro pull him to the ground amongst the rocks inside the small cave. Hob's shirt and vest were already discarded, his sleeves rolled up and his collar unbuttoned. He unbuttoned Sandro's shirt and pulled it down so it caught in his elbows, draped down his back low enough for Hob to run his lips over the huge tattoo of Santa Rusulia – Patron Saint of Palermo, invoked for protection in times of plague – wearing a crown of roses and standing amidst a copse of lilies outside a cave not so different from the one they are currently in, looking out to the sun setting over the sea, that covered his entire back. Hob drew that image, originally charcoal on paper, while they were sitting on the beach watching the sun set on Sandro's 19th birthday in the early ‘90s. He didn't know that Sandro had even saved the picture until a shootout a year later had Hob ripping off the young man’s shirt to stop the bleeding and found the image permanently inked into his skin.

Sandro knew more about Hob than anyone living. They had spent four years as lovers in the mid-'90s. Hob had gotten sober for Sandro. He had left Cosa Nostra for Sandro, had begged for Sandro to come with him. But he was too scared of his father, Salvatore “the Baron,” to leave. He was worried about the fate of his mother, his sisters. Hob couldn’t begrudge him that. It still stung.

Hob shucked Sandro's pants down his thighs and moved his hand around to his ass, thinking that he would tease him dry before trying to find something slick back in the car. Instead, Hob's fingers found warm, flat silicone. He slumped forward with a moan and his forehead hit between Sandro's shoulder blades. "Oh fuck, Sandro. You have been full with this the entire time?"

"Ready for you, Bettino." He sighed, soft and sweet as candy. He let out a high-pitched cry as Hob slowly pulled the plug out and Christ it was huge Hob would be able to just…

There was a thmpt as the silicone object hit the dense sand a few feet away, flung aside as Hob frantically tried to get his slacks down as quickly as possible. As soon as his cock was free Sandro's hands were reaching back to grab it, lubricant that the horny little weasel must have been carrying in his bloody pocket smeared all over his fingers, readying Hob to just…

Sandro sat back and Hob slid into him to the hilt, all in one stroke, easy as breathing, smooth and perfect.

They stayed that way for a long moment, readjusting to each other. The first movement was Hob's hands stroking from Sandro's thighs up to his chest then pressing them together. When they started rocking Sandro let his head fall back with a sob.

"Did you keep your hair long for me, too?" Hob wrapped the waist-length ponytail around his fist and tugged. It made Sandro moan just as sweetly as it had all those years ago. "That's it, sing for me, bell'uccellino." He snapped his hips up and Sandro wailed; he always was such a vocal lover, his pretty bird.

#yes another mafia AU #in this one Hob is still canon immortal and Dream is still King of Dreams and Nightmares #fishbowl rescue fic #Dreamling #Pavonis writes

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slotmachines-fearofgod · 29 days

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babby ahsoka + twins

Please enjoy this not proofread not edited not ready WIP! we need more baby ahsoka & clones in the world

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For the first time in his (relatively short) life Rex was at a loss.

They were investigating some temple on behalf of the Jedi. Anakin had been sent because of his intense attunement to the Force and the 501st had happily followed his lead. Rex hadn’t gotten much out of the man, just that the Jedi would know what to do and all he needed to worry about was following their lead.

Rex was going to kill him.

When they first landed and entered nothing had seemed off. It was an old, crumbling structure built by neither Jedi nor Sith millenia ago. The Jedi wanted it investigated due to the strange flow of energy around it, an energy that had steadily been increasing over the past month until the signal reached Coruscant itself. Rex had braced himself for mental games or mind tricks but there had been nothing.

In fact, there had been so little sign of anything that Anakin decided it would be best for them to split up. Coming as a surprise to no one Ahsoka took Fives, Echo, and Rex along with her down the side passageways, leading them through a winding maze Rex wasn’t sure he’d be able to figure out on his own.

Which was what led them here.

Rex stared down at the three children in front of him and felt the vague urge to cry.

Fives blinked up at him, his big eyes full of curiosity as he looked at Rex’s armor. Rex, still frozen from where he’d busted through the door that had trapped his compatriots, watched as his second waddled up to him and grabbed his kama.

“Fives?” Rex croaked, incredibly out of his depth.

Fives laughed brightly, “See Echo! I told you it would catch on.”

Echo, now half his original size, scowled, “No fair. Why do you get the fun name?”

Ahsoka, his little commander, his almost-sister, his charge, stuck her finger in her mouth and immediately jammed it into Echo’s ear.

Echo yelped, scurrying away from the girl who was grinning with her fangs out, “Ew!”

“What’s your name?” Ahsoka asked, seemingly innocent.

Echo grumbled quietly so they couldn’t hear, still trying to wipe the spit out of his ear.

Fives ran over to him, laughing all the way, “It’s Echo! It’s ‘cause he only repeats what the trainers say!”

“Shut up!” Echo’s face lit up red as he smacked his brother, “I do not!”

“Ow!” Fives whined, rearing up to hit Echo back, “Don’t be such a tubie!”

“I hate you,” Echo growled, “Stop being so mean.”

“I’m Ahsoka!”

Both clone cadets momentarily paused to look at the togruta girl.

“I’m a Jedi!”

And with that their feud was forgotten. Rex sighed and walked over, accepting that this was his life now, as Echo launched question after question at a giggling Ahsoka. Fives was trying to bodily drag her away to see her do “cool Force shit,” leaving Rex to wade in between the pack to pick up the little padawan.

“Hey,” Fives complained, “Give her back.”

“Hush,” Rex fixed him with a look, “Give me a sitrep cadet.”

Fives rolled his eyes, a move that would’ve gotten him another hour of training at the least on Kamino, while Echo stiffened into a less than perfect parade rest.

“Sir!” Echo started, his voice just a little too loud in the echoing chamber, “Myself and CT-5555 were enjoying our downtime in the bunks. We were taking the allotted rest period to sleep and woke up here in this…where are we? Sir.”

Rex sighed, rubbing his eyes with his free hand, “We are on the planet Erot in the Outer Rim. As for the name of this place, I was not granted access to that information.”

All three kids' eyes widened.

“Outer Rim?” Ahsoka asked, “That’s so cool!”

Rex shifted her onto his hip so she’d be easier to carry. If he had to guess, they were all about five or six standard years. They could speak plainly and fluently and had little coordination issues, but they were much younger then they’d been a mere five minutes ago.

“Ahsoka,” Rex started, “Do you remember what you were doing in this room?”

Ahsoka shook her head, now looking around the space, “No. I was in the creche with Uzaa and we were going to class with Master Che. I was late.” Ahsoka looked down sheepishly, a blush of her own on her face.

Rex smiled weakly, “It’s alright. We’ll work it out.”

“Who are you?” Fives piped up, never content with being silent too long.

“I’m Rex,” he could answer that at least, “Captain Rex.”

“Captain?” Echo looked up at him with something like admiration, “Wow. Does that mean the war has started?”

“What war?” Ahsoka asked, now alarmedly squirming in Rex’s arms, “Why do you all look the same?”

Rex winced, “It…may be best if we regroup before we talk about everything,” he said apologetically, “But I’ll explain.”

Ahsoka frowned, wiggling so much that Rex gave up and just set her down, “Okay. Are we going back home?”

That was a good question. Right now Rex wasn’t sure what to do with his sort-of soldiers. And there was no way he was getting back through the tunnel system without a guide to help.

Rex looked around the room, searching for clues or hints of what did this to them. There were strange carvings on the floor in the center and metal piping running along the ceiling, but other than that the place seemed empty. Devoid of anything and everything except for the group of four at the door.

Rex pinched his nose as he pulled up his comm, already dreading this call.

“Skywalker here, what’s your status Rex?”

“Uh,” Rex looked down at three innocent and eager faces, “I need a rendezvous at my position ASAP.”

“What?” Skywalker’s voice changed, now startled and anxious instead of cool and collected, “What happened to Ahsoka? She can’t lead you?”

Ahsoka gasped, “He knows me?”

“...What was that?”

“That is my predicament sir,” Rex sighed again, “I believe your padawan activated something. ARC troopers Fives and Echo are down along with Tano.”

“ARC trooper?!” Fives cried in excitement, now bouncing on his toes, “We make ARC troopers?”

Rex gave all three of them a scolding look and pressed a finger to his lips. They all looked down at their feet, adequately shamed.

“Riiight,” Skywalker drawled, “Sounds like I should see this myself. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Bring Kix please,” Rex tiredly requested.

“Of course,” Skywalker sounded less upset now. It helped soothe some of Rex’s own nerves as he mentally cussed out stupid Force shit in every language he knew. “I look forward to seeing what this is about.”

Rex let out a breath of relief as the call ended. He sat heavily next to the kids, staring blankly at the wall in front of him.

At least until Echo rounded in front of him.

“Captain?” Echo asked in a small voice.

“Yeah?”

“Are we in trouble?”

Rex softened a bit and shook his head, “No. It’s just been a long day.”

Echo hummed, “So is it true? Has the war started?”

Ah yes. The great war. The one they used to dream about as kids. Their strange light at the end of the tunnel.

“Yeah,” Rex said hoarsely, staring into Echo’s eyes and suddenly being hit with the realization that this Echo’s brothers were still alive, “It’s started.”

Echo frowned, “But you’re not an A clone. Why are you deployed?”

Rex shook his head, “It’s complicated. We’ll explain later, I promise.”

Echo seemed unhappy with that answer, but he didn’t get another word in before Fives was bullying his way into Rex’s line of sight.

“You said we’re ARC troopers,” Fives accused, “But we haven’t even graduated our base combat modules!”

Rex laughed softly, “You’ll get there someday. Trust me.”

Fives scowled, unsatisfied with Rex’s half answer but Rex wasn’t really sure how much to tell them. Telling them everything - Rishi, their batch’s destruction, their missions with Torrent - seemed unwise. They were still kids. They deserved to be kids. Just for a little bit.

Rex startled as he felt a weight lean into his side, briefly reaching for his blaster before looking over and realizing it was Ahsoka.

She looked up, her usually large eyes now seeming comically huge on her face, “‘M cold.”

Right. Togrutas were warm blooded. And she hadn’t gotten as lucky as Fives and Echo, whose blacks shrunk with them. She was still stuck with her skirt and stupid tube top. Rex wanted to rip that thing to shreds and replace it with armor. He’d had the instinct many times before but now…

Rex just opened his arms, allowing the girl to crawl into his lap with a happy sigh.

He glanced at Echo and Fives, unsurprised to find them bickering quietly off to the side.

“Boys,” he called, his voice booming around the chamber, “Cut it out.”

Fives made a frustrated noise and stomped his foot, going off to sulk in the corner, while Echo stared after him with an angry look. Eventually the younger of the two made it over, subtly checking out of Ahsoka had left any room in Rex’s lap.

Rex scooted backward against the wall so the three of them could sit more comfortably before he called out, “Fives. Come here.”

Fives turned around, stuck his tongue out, and turned back to the corner.

“CT-5555,” Rex put a little more authority into his voice, “Now.”

Fives hesitated, fighting with himself a little bit, before groaning and stomping over. Rex gave him an appraising once over, finding nothing wrong with him other than the attitude.

“What’s this about?” Rex tried his best to go for strict older brother but he was pretty sure the image was ruined by the two kids in his lap.

“Don’t wanna be here,” Fives mumbled, crossing his arms and looking down, “I miss 4040.”

Ah. Cutup. Fives’ favorite of his old batch.

Rex relaxed a bit, crooking his finger at Fives and watching the kid tentatively step toward him, “It’ll be alright. We’ll get you three fixed up in no time.”

“Fixed?” Echo craned his neck to look up at Rex.

Rex winced, knowing where Echo probably jumped to, “Back home, I mean.”

Echo nodded, slumping against Rex as Fives tried, and mostly succeeded, to fit himself between his brother and his future commander. Rex held the three of them in his arms and tried to remember to breathe.

He didn’t know what to do with this. They couldn’t fight and there was no way in hell Kamino would take Fives and Echo back. He didn’t have the first clue what to do with Ahsoka, hell he didn’t even know if they’d allow her back at the temple after this. Were the Jedi as strict as the Kaminoans? Certainly not except for the exceptional cases. The issue was this was most certainly an acceptable case.

They sat in a tight anxious silence for the next few minutes. Rex was shielding as best he could, but his skills were rudimentary at best and he knew it was getting to Ahsoka. Adding on to that Fives and Echo kept poking each other and making faces when they thought Rex wasn’t looking. Eventually one of them was going to hit Ahsoka and he just knew that would start an all out war.

Ahsoka perked up before the rest of them, her eyes going wide and her figure stilling. Rex let out a sigh of relief, well aware of what that meant by now.

Sure enough, a few moments later they heard hurried footsteps and a few calls between troopers. Rex had them all stand, drawing his blasters and putting on his helmet as he walked to the door.

Skywalker was the first in line, his face curious but not alarmed. Rex let the blasters fall when he saw him, nodding respectfully to his general.

“Rex,” Anakin greeted him, “Mind showing me what this is about?”

Rex nodded, peeking over his shoulder to see Jesse, Kix, and Hardcase. That was good. The boys would love Hardcase.

“Yeah,” Rex stepped aside and pointed at the trio of children, “Feel free to take a look.”

Anakin, it seemed, had the same reaction to children as Rex did. Which was freeze.

Kix nudged him aside easily, sparing a curious glance at his general, before he too paused in the doorway.

“Hi!” Ahsoka waved cheerily, one of her hands in Echo’s, “I’m Ahsoka!”

#arc trooper echo #arc trooper fives #ahsoka tano #captain rex #deaged fic #idk i just needed one #these are my guilty pleasure #and there arent a lot for clone wars #:(#star wars tcw #star wars #tcw fanfic #fluff #omg i can finally use that tag

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zialltops · 9 months

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honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

After four years away at collage, you’re finally home with the tools and knowledge to save your family ranch. That is, if their ranch hand would stay out of your way.

Or: Ranch hand Joel doesn’t know how to handle the return of his bosses prodigy daughter, her snarky little attitude, or her sinfully tight jeans.

a/n: howdy ya’ll! This chapter took me a HOT minute to finish because i’ve been severely sick (if you’ve been on this ride with me since esos you know i struggle with my health) but it’s finally here! I cant thank everyone enough for reading and as much as I wish i could hear from you guys more often, i’m just going to keep writing along and hope someone likes it! The smallest interactions bring me so much joy.

Masterlink

ao3 link | spotify playlist

Chapter 5: On My Way To You

He’s never been more humiliated in his entire fucking life. Never—not ever, has he ever felt this embarrassed about someone seeing him naked. He’s been shot down mid alleyway make-out when she’d pressed too close and felt it. He’s been left in a hotel room when he had a woman naked under him and he finally pulled his pants down. Hell—he’s been told it hurts, asked to stop—asked to leave. But never has it made his heart pound and his cheeks stain red, never made him wheeze from anxiety and dread.

He didn’t mean for it to happen—he’s been doing his best to avoid you, give you the space you want, but you’ve been nicer lately and it makes him want to get closer, test those waters and get to know you, but the second he lets himself start to give in, his body goes full force and he has to get away. Today was a hard day for him because he’d been up late the night before trying to rewire a break in the fence that let out three heifers and the little calf you’d saved on Christmas.

He’d crashed hard last night and woke up too late to work himself over before starting his day—it usually helps him keep his cool, but today he spent two hours hours in the saddle of one of Hank’s horses, moving the heifers getting ready to calf to a smaller pasture, the older steer that were about to be sold off from last years calves to a quarantine pen. It was mindless and easy and Joel spent the whole time thinking about you and your pretty eyes and the way you still wear that necklace every day, like you haven’t even thought to take it off.

By the time he stops by the house for something to drink, he’s already spent half his morning picturing you in every position possible—real like he’s never had it before. He’s smack dab in the middle of one of his favorite fantasies, one where you’re going down on him, fully aware of what’s under his belt buckle and wranglers. You’d be so sweet to him, make him feel desirable without feeling like a chore. You’d kiss the length of him over his denim, drag his pants down his thighs and you wouldn’t gasp in shock. You’d want him—your mouth would water for him and you’d give him those pouty lips and bright eyes when you finally run your tongue from base to tip—it would be perfect—

“Morning Joel.”

He’s so caught up in his vision of you in his head he’s completely unprepared for this version, with berries smeared on the corner of your mouth, like the jam is just too sweet for you to leave untasted—you’re swimming in a sweater too big for you and christ he hates when you wear legging, hugging every curve of your body, filling in the shape of your body like a shadow. He does his best to form a sentence, keep himself from staring at the necklace chain he can see poking out of your collar. you’re wearing it, you’re wearing it, you’re wearing it.

When you lick the spoon clean, his stomach hits the floor and his head spin’s suddenly from loss of blood as everything warm and tingly in his body travels south. He knows he has to get out of there, doesn’t have time to stand here for another second if he wants to keep what's going on in his pants to himself.

He’ll kick himself later for not giving you an excuse to run off, but he doesn’t have a choice in the matter right now. He practically runs for the barn, the small bathroom inside is a well learned friend, where he can rub one out fast and get it out of his hungry system. His body is famished, starved for your skin and he isn’t sure how much more of this he can take.

He gets his pants down as fast as he can, spits in his hand and starts quick. God, the way you’d looked at him when he walked in there, like you were happy to see him for once, glad to share his company—if only he wasn’t such a complete piece of shit who can't take a kind gesture for just that.

He sees your smile and he wants to dig his hands into the meat of your ass and hoist you up. Wants to hold you down and take you apart with his mouth. Your eyes meet his and he wants to watch them roll back when you take all of him, like no one ever has, ever will but he can let himself imagine it in this tiny bathroom that smells like livestock and dirt. He can imagine the way you’d want it, want him. The way you’d tell him how good he felt, how good he made you feel despite what he’s always been told about himself.

Just a few more—a couple more tugs and he’s almost there, so fucking close to the thought of your body and his, and…and…

The next thing he knows your eyes are on him, then tick down to his hand wrapped around himself like the pathetic man he knows he is. He’ll never forget the way you looked at him, the way you told him how traumatized you were to see him like that, he’s sure it would have hurt less if you’d stabbed him in the heart with a dull knife.

He fucking runs back to the cabin and get’s himself under a cold shower, trying to keep his hair from getting wet so you don’t know while his body takes a shock to its system, flushing out the desire and replacing it for his shame. When he’s red and shaking from the cold, he re-dresses and heads back towards the house. The longer he hides, the more likely you are to piece together the odd string of occurrences surrounding his disappearances. The longer he waits, the more guilty he looks, so he forces himself up the stairs, trying his best to catch his breath outside of the door until he finally has the gull to knock. He knows you’re in there, he can faintly hear something, soft little sounds that he can't quite make out, so he calls your name when the small rasps don’t catch your attention.

He nearly leaves when the door finally comes open, and…fuck if you aren’t a sight for his painfully sore eyes. You’re red all over, stunning, breathing hard with wide eyes like you’ve been caught at something. Maybe you have, he can imagine, maybe you were touching yourself—thinking about him. It's a futile dream, but he lets himself have it anyways.

No matter how much he runs, how much he tries his hardest to stay away, everything you do ropes him in and hog ties him up, unable and unwilling to be moved until you’ve decided what to do with him now that everything he is, is yours.

It’s shame that keeps him from embarrassing himself again once he drives into town, because the way you press against him in the truck makes his skin boil. He doesn’t deserve to have you beside him after what you’d been forced to witness, but that doesn’t stop him. He wants to slip his hand along your thigh, wishes Tommy wasn’t sitting beside you and he could stuff his hand down the front of your leggings and show you a thing or two—he knows he’s good with his hands—his mouth, he has to be if he wants to get a woman off. He wants to show you exactly what he could do for you, to you, but he keeps his mouth closed and taps his fingers against the steering wheel the whole way. It’s infuriating, how much you get along with Tommy now, who’s been nothing but crude to you, making passes at you left and right and god help him, you let him. He wants you to talk to him like that too, he wants to make you laugh, make you giggle and blush prettily.

But he just loads the truck. Watches when you and Tommy snicker over a bottle of whiskey he knows he can't touch because last time he made a fool of himself. He tries not to intrude on your space, tries not to bother you and Tommy around the fire later after he’s done unloading the truck alone. Not even Tommy helps him around here anymore, too far up your ass that he’s damn near useless.

He watches from the window like a fucking creep, trying not to work himself up over the way you smile at his brother, the way you throw your head back laughing at something stupid he probably said. He wants that to be him, sitting beside you with whiskey making him bold, faking it for him since he doesn’t have the ability to just talk to you. He’s sure he’d tell you everything, how beautiful he thinks you are, how much smarter than him you are. He’d probably tell you how many times he’s thought about you with his hands wrapped around himself, in the dark of his room with your name on his lips.

He doesn’t do any of that, instead he watches you from the window and lets his heart ache and pound until he sees the way Tommy lingers closer, touches your leg absently and you let him. He has to put a stop to this, so he tracks out into the cold and tries to put his foot down. Maybe Tommy will go to bed, you’ll let him walk you home and it will be so cold that you’ll ask him to stay again. But before he has a second to beg you otherwise, you’re kissing his brother.

You’re kissing his brother instead of him and he can't watch for another second, so he hightails it inside and slams his bedroom door behind himself. He can usually hear right through Tommy’s wall, but he holds his hands over his ears and tries his hardest to keep the sound of his ragged breaths from making it through the walls. At some point, he falls asleep, wishing you were laying right beside him, sprawled out, satisfied and spent with the shape of his teeth on your shoulder.

When he wakes in the morning, it’s not even close to sun up yet. He has a long day ahead of him, has to ride up to the north pasture, acres upon acres of beautiful pine covered land, but Joel has to ensure that the streams aren’t frozen over if he wants to move the heifers and their calves there soon. He gets dressed with a ache in his bones that he knows didn’t come from his age, his stomach is in knots because he knows what's been done, he knows he can’t change it—that he might not ever stand a chance with you now that you’ve been with him. Women always preferred Tommy over him, all the same cowboy charm with a bit more confidence.

He slips on his boots and places his hat on his head before lingering in the hallway for a long moment. He stares at Tommys door and imagines you sleeping on the other side of it. Did you like it? Do you like him?

He turns and starts down the hallways when the door comes open with a slow creak. He turns back around in the dark light of the hallway and, there you are wearing one of Tommy’s shirts and nothing else, your hair is mused and you have this look on your face, one that reeds shame and worry and for what Joel just can't quite put his finger on. You don’t say anything for a long time, just Joel and you and the fading darkness outside, your eyes tracking over him with a shiny hue to them.

“Where are you going?” Where is he going is the first thing you have to say to him? Like he climbed out of your bed and snuck off. “I uhm…I have a long ride up to the north field, thought I would get a early start on it.” He clears his throat and glances down at his boots, then back up at you. “Though I should give ya’ll some space, no one wants their brother listenin’ in.”

He starts to turn away again because he can’t look at you for another second when he knows you have his saliva on your skin and the shapes of his hands on your body.

“Can I come with you?” Go with him? You want to go with him when there’s a warm body waiting for you in a warm bed, where you can hide from the cold world, the impending darkness and a man like him. “You want to go? Why?” You close the bedroom door behind you like you don't want to wake Tommy and it makes Joel’s heart pound out of his chest for reasons it shouldn’t. “I don't know, it’s cold out there, you’re uhm…you’re naked.”

He tries, really tries to keep his eyes off your bare thighs, the shirt hanging off your frame and your sock-less feet on the hardwood. “I’m not naked, I have underwear on,” you lift one side of the shirt like you have to prove it to him and his eyes track to the black lace hugging your hips. Saliva builds in his mouth and he clears his throat, needing to turn away from you again. “If you want to come you should probably put some clothes on, I’ll meet you in the stable.” He starts to gather up his things, a light and his phone, trying to make himself busy so he can get away. “Well, will you wait for me—I don’t want to walk alone.” And Joel doesn’t want to do this right now, walk with you for a half mile back to the stables, sit beside you, wondering if it aches sitting in the saddle because his brother fucked you.

But he waits anyway, fiddles with the brim of his hat while he sits on the couch in silence as he waits for you to get dressed. You come out in your clothes from the night before, bundled up in a big jacket with your hair tied back. He tells himself not to think about it and heads towards the door. The walk to the stables is nearly silent, but the pounding in his ears drowns out the awkwardness in the interaction. How can he stop thinking about it? How you slept with him but dragged yourself out of bed to follow Joel into the cold? How you would trade a warm body for Joel’s cold shoulder?

“Need help with your saddle?” His voice feels raw from not using it, his hands aching from the cold while he cinches up the girth strap. This time next year, hell be saddling up Cersi to take this trip, he cant wait, but for now he’ll ride Hanks sturdy horse through the mud and snow. “I’ve got it, thank you.” There's no snap in your tone like he expects there to be and you work with him in unison, getting your mounts ready while the sun starts to climb into the atmosphere. By the time he gets out of the barn, you’re smiling at him. Smiling from your spot in the saddle with the reigns in your hands like you’re made for that.

“You ready to get a move on, cowboy?” His chest tightens at the way you gaze at him, wondering if you’d given Tommy that same look the night before. He wants to pretend it was all for him, pretend that you’re looking at him like that because you see something you haven’t before.

“You ready, cowgirl? When's the last time you were in a saddle?” He tries his damndest to keep his tone light as he hooks a foot in the stirrup and hoists himself up. “Been a couple years, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget how to ride.”

Did you practice last night? He shakes his head and wills away the image. He doesn’t think he'll be able to stop thinking about it for the rest of the ride, he can’t get the image of your mouth on his out of his head no matter how much he tries. It’s always fucking Tommy. He’s always been the favored brother, no matter how much of a fuck up he is. He’s always been the one to get the girl, the popular one in school, hell even his wife—

“You okay in there cowboy?”

Your voice comes like a shock to his system, snapping him out of another unpleasant memory. “Huh?” He looks around until he lays eyes on you, riding beside him with your hands resting on the horn of the saddle. “I was asking if you’re okay…you’ve been really quiet for the past half hour.” Half an hour? It's been a half hour since he started this ride? “Yeah, no, sorry. I have a lot on my mind, is all.” You pick up the pace beside him a little, till your horses are walking alongside each-other on the path. “Anything you want to talk about?”

He sits on the words for a second. He doesn’t want to talk about it, not particularly—but its you and your asking him and fuck, he wants you to get to know him. Maybe if you knew who he was, maybe if he had a chance to explain why he’s like this you might change your mind.

“I was thinkin’ ‘bout my ex-wife.” He keeps his eyes ahead of him, because he doesn’t want to see the look on your face when you hear that, that he had a whole other life away from this place. “My mom told me you had an ex-wife. She didn’t tell me what happened.”

You knew? He’d told Hank and Louise a lot about his life, he had to if he wanted them to trust him. He wasn’t a bad man, just a burdened one. “We uh…we had a rocky marriage. Got together young, right out of high school. I was learning to work a cattle ranch and I thought I would be able to give her a good life but—she wanted more, I suppose. Started steppin’ out on me. She got pregnant by another man, but I still didn’t leave. Helped raise that little girl like she was my own.”

He thinks about Sarah and her curly hair that definitely didn’t come from him or her mom, her sweet smile, her first day of school—all the things he missed.

“What made you finally leave?” Your voice is so quiet beside him. He looks over at you under the brim of his hat and sighs. “She slept with Tommy. Came home from picking up Sarah from school and I…caught ‘em together in bed. Tommy said he did it because he wanted to prove to me that she wasn’t any good for me but, I don’t know, I’ve never been very good and stayin’ angry at him.”

Your eyes look far away in that moment, like you’re clouded in some kind of guilt, maybe because you’d slept with Tommy, too. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Joel.” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head absently. “Ain’t no thing. I’m used to it by now, he’s always had a way with ‘em that I never had.”

He has, Joel can't even recall every encounter he’s had with a woman that ended with them leaving with his brother. Hell, it had been five years since the last time he’d (kind of) had sex, no thanks to his cockblocker of a brother. The first time in years since he’s felt more than just attraction to a woman and Tommy takes that from him too.

“We should get a move on, we don’t have all day and I have a lot to do when I get back.”

He digs his heal in and the horse picks up speed and to his surprise, you keep gate with him along the trail.

When he gets to the gate of the north pasture, his ass hurts from being in the saddle and his face feels wind chapped, but you don’t complain about a lick of it, like you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now. “Joel?” He’s closing the gate behind you when you call his name. It makes him look up from the latch. “Yeah?” He gets it in place and mounts his horse again, adjusting his hat on his head. “I’m really sorry, about how I treated you when I first came home.”

Fuck do you have to do this right now? Out here, where he has nowhere to run off to? “You're not the one who needs to be sorry. I never should have done half the things I did to you. I didn’t even know you and I assumed the worst of you. Should’ve never done any of that to you.” He never should have left you in the cold, never should have treated you any differently than anyone else because he thought you came from somewhere that didn’t like folks like him when he really likes girls like you. So smart and put together, so capable and confident.

“We got off on a bad foot, I suppose…do you think maybe we could…start over?”

You want to start over? With him? give him a second shot to not fuck this up again? Or maybe you don’t mean it like that, like he desperately wants it to mean, even if you fucked his brother last night, he doesn’t care, he’d take his sloppy seconds any day because it’s you.

“I’d really like that.” There's a sweet kind of shimmer in your eyes when you smile at him, rosey cheeks and a crinkle by your kind eyes. His sight ticks down to your chest, where he can see the necklace he’d given you sticking out of the top. You’re still wearing it, had you worn it last night? When he laid you down on his cold sheets while Joel wished desperately it was his?

Despite the pang in his chest, the rest of the ride is easy and light, you talk about nothing and absolutely everything, your favorite color, your favorite time of the year, Joel tells you how much he loves the spring and you excitedly agree, going on and on about watching the world come back to life.

You tell him about college, how out of place you felt surrounded by people who were so different from you. How nervous you were for the first year, but you’d made a best friend out of your room mate Mel, and you finally got the hang of it in your second year.

He tells you about drifting from place to place because Tommy usually stirs up some trouble and runs them out of town. He tells you about all the times he’s had to save his ass to your parents and how much he’s tried to hang on to the one good place he’s had in so long. He could talk to you for hours, all day if you’d let him, and you do. You hold his conversations like you’re a pair of old friends, catching up after years spent apart.

He’s so lost in you that he doesn’t even realize you’re back home until the house comes into view. He’s spent so much time immersing himself in talking to you that he’s completely lost track of where he is, letting the miles blow past him. It’s mid day and he still has a lot to do and he can tell you’re starting to get sore in the saddle. “I’ll get them cooled down, you should probably get some rest. You couldn’t of gotten much sleep last night.” He swings his leg over and climbs off the horse before taking yours by the halter so you can do the same. “Thank you for today…it’s been a while since I’ve had a good reason to ride.” You give him one of those smiles again and it takes everything in him not to lean in and kiss you because of it. He’s wanted to kiss you all damn day, slide his fingers into the hair at the base of your skull and hold on tight, slot his lips over yours and breathe you in deep until he can’t let you go again.

He doesn’t and you head off towards the house while he looks on. He watches till you make it inside and then some before getting back to his chores.

Work consumes the entirety of his day, until the sun sets and it starts to get dark and chilly when he’s finally got the animals fed and the equipment locked up. He knows Tommy is back at the cabin because he dropped off a plate of dinner to Joel in the stable on his way home. He’s about to start the walk back to the cabin himself when he hears the creak of the screen door on the house just across the yard. He closes the barn door behind himself and follows the sounds. You’re standing on the porch in a pair of sleep shorts and slippers, a tee-shirt that's too big and a nervous look on your face. You don't say anything, but Joel’s feet carry him to the steps, then up them one at a time, carefully and painfully slow, like he might spook you away if he moves too quickly. The wind is absolutely howling right now, whipping your hair around and cinching your shirt tight against your frame.

He hits the landing and takes a few more steps forward, until he’s a foot away from your shaking form, your big pretty eyes that are searching every corner of his. He should say something, he should say how much he enjoyed today, how much he wants to do it again and again and again.

“I didn’t have sex with him.”

It’s not what he expected you to say standing out here in this unforgiving cold, but its the best damn thing he’s heard you say all day. It feels like an endless weight coming off his shoulders and he lets out a loud gush of air he didn’t know he was holding. “What?” You puff your chest out a little, like you’re trying to get a point across to him. “I didn't have sex with Tommy last night.” You say it so matter of factly.

“Why didn’t you?” He reaches up and pushes his hat up a little, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His heart is pounding, his limbs shaking at the admission. “You know why.”

All at once, his pounding heart comes to a staggering stop, standing there on the porch looking down at you while he tries to keep himself upright. He doesn’t know why but the way you're looking at him now tells him there's something else here besides anger and hatred and shared distaste. You didn’t sleep with Tommy, because on the other side of that wall you were wanting him just as desperately as he wanted you.

“It’s cold out here…do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?”

Joel’s bottom lip quivers so much he has to suck it into his mouth to make it stop, bite down on it to put it at ease. “Yeah, I…I’d like that.”

A warm little hand finds his, tentative fingers intertwined with his while you lead him inside of the house. You don’t take him upstairs, Joel doesn’t expect you to. You lead him to the couch and he sits down, kicking off his boots when you reach up for his hat. You set it on the arm rest beside him and grab a blanket off the back of the couch when he lays himself back on the pillow.

His body aches, his eyes feel heavy, but he doesn’t dare close them when he’s got an angel standing right before his eyes. “Goodnight, Cowboy.” You hum sweetly, lean down and press your lips against the apple of his cheek, more delicate than he’s ever been touched before in his entire fucking life.

When you pull away, those same cheeks are painted pink and he does his best not to grin too stupidly. “Goodnight, Cowgirl.”

You take the stairs up to your room but Joel rides the elevator to heaven from his spot on the living room couch.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel the last of us #archive of our own #joel tlou #cowboy joel miller #rancher joel miller #slow burn joel miller

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hongcherry · 2 years

Text

Lunch Visit || csc (m)

"Seungcheol's a busy man, so you decide to bring him lunch. However, you end up staying longer than you planned."

👔 Pairing: ceo!Seungcheol x Reader (afab)

👔 Ratings/Genre/AUs: M(18+); Smut, fluff, office au, established relationship

👔 Warnings: Lots of kithes, fingering, oral (f. rec.), dom!cheol, light breast play, unprotected safe (be safe!), rough sex, also soft sex for 0.5 seconds, dirty talk, creampie, cum play, a sexy pic is sent, desk sex

👔 Word Count: 5.3k

👔 Beta: @playmetheclassics Indigo, you beautiful hooman. Thank you so much for thoroughly looking over this for me! Your comments made me laugh. Please accept my hug *opens arms* 🥰

👔 Author's Note: My first ever svt fic is here!!! I have a handful of svt wips, but I FINALLY got one finished (thank goodness) 😭 I'm really excited to show you all what I've been working on, but for now, here is ceo!cheol hehe. I hope you enjoy.

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

The way to Seungcheol’s office was a winding path.

You would think the CEO’s office would be more accessible, but you supposed he was too busy to deal with minuscule issues his subordinates may have. Thus, he needed to be in a secluded area away from everyone. If everyone were to go to him with their problems, he would be working 24/7, if possible. However, it felt like he was working that long now anyway. This was why you found yourself outside the meeting room he was supposedly in—thanks to the receptionist.

Having been told his meeting ended three minutes ago, you pushed open the door without knocking. You figured he was lingering inside because he was gathering his materials before he left. You didn’t expect to be greeted by Seungcheol’s booming voice, sharp and annoyed.

“…have to push back our deadline because they want to change the conditions? Again?! Tell them no. They should’ve gotten their shit toget—Yn?”

Seungcheol stopped in his rant when he finally turned to see you at the door. His eyes immediately took in your not-so-professional attire. You had planned to hang out with a friend soon, but you wanted to drop off food for Seungcheol first.

“Hi, Cheol,” you greeted with a smile, eyes glancing at the room full of employees. You shifted uncomfortably under the stares. Most of them were looking at you with wide eyes. It made sense. You didn’t recognize them and weren’t dressed appropriately to be in the building.

You averted your gaze to Seungcheol and said, “I thought you were done with your meeting.”

Although his eyes softened at seeing you, they were still fierce—body hot from dealing with stupid people all morning.

“I’ll be done soon. Go wait for me in my office,” he instructed and started to walk to you. He dug a hand in his slacks, pulling out his keys and placing them in your palm. He glanced at the bag you were holding but didn’t say anything.

“I have to go soon; I just wanted—”

“Ten minutes, alright?” he said.

“I don’t know if I can wait until then,” you replied.

Seungcheol took a deep breath. He didn’t want to snap at you, but his patience was already too low as it was.

“Five then. Go to my office, alright?” He sighed, gesturing out the door.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. You could tell he was trying hard not to be too demanding.

“Fine,” you grumbled and turned around.

Walking to his office, you passed by Wonwoo’s room. You didn’t know him outside of work, but he was always friendly whenever you visited Seungcheol.

This time you knocked, waiting for a response before pushing his ajar door open more.

“Hi, Wonwoo,” you smiled.

He sat behind his desk, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose as his eyes glided across the screens in front of him. He peered up when he heard your voice. He looked surprised to see you.

“Hey Yn, it’s nice to see you,” he replied, pushing away from his desk to give you his full attention. “I think Seungcheol is still in a meeting.”

You pointed in the direction of the meeting room, a small laugh escaping as you replied, “Yeah, I just came from there.”

“Oh,” he said sheepishly.

“I just came to stop by as I wait for him to finish,” you explained.

“You’re welcome to sit,” he said and gestured to the guest chair.

You obliged, setting down the bag and your purse. Like all your conversations, the context was light. Between asking about work updates and his recent lover, you passed the time quickly.

“I thought I told you to wait in my office.”

You snapped your gaze up; the words on your lips died upon hearing Seungcheol’s rigid tone. It was obvious he wasn’t pleased with you being here.

Your mouth dipped down. “It’s boring in there alone.”

“Hm,” he paused to look at Wonwoo, “I expect those files to be sent to me within an hour.”

“Hey, don’t be harsh on him, babe. I’m the one that disturbed him,” you said as you stood up with your belongings.

“Which is why I told you to go to—”

“Your office. Yeah, I got it,” you grumbled. You glanced at Wonwoo, giving him an apologetic smile. “I’m glad you’re happier, Wonwoo. Thanks for the chat.”

Wonwoo grinned as he rolled himself closer to his desk. “Thanks, Yn.”

“The files,” Seungcheol reminded Wonwoo. Wonwoo nodded, waving you goodbye when Seungcheol guided you out of the room.

You followed next to him as he walked to his office. The silence was unsettling. Glancing at him briefly, you noticed his jaw was clenched and lips angled downward more than usual.

“Ba—” you started to say.

“Wait until we get inside,” he simply ordered.

You’re not sure what you did wrong besides interrupting his meeting. You understood he was probably stressed, but you didn’t see the mistake as a big deal. If he had taken the lunch prior, he could’ve gotten back to work instead of talking to you.

Once Seungcheol shut and locked his office door, he moved you to his chair while leaning against his desk. You placed your belongings on the floor as he loosened his tie. He then placed his hands behind him on the wooden surface.

“Why are you mad at me?” you pouted, sinking into his comfortable seat.

Seungcheol sighed. “I’m not.”

“You’re acting like you are,” you huffed and furrowed your brows in puzzlement.

“You just came on a bad day,” he explained, hand coming up to rub his temples. “Why did you come anyway? Dressed like that too.”

“Don’t sound so thrilled,” you said sarcastically. “Also, what’s wrong with my outfit?”

“It’s not appropriate here,” he answered, hand falling from his face.

“I didn’t think I had to be dressed in slacks to come to see you,” you argued. He’s never had an issue with your “inappropriate” attire before, so you wondered what changed.

“People were staring,” he muttered, lips returning to a frown.

You chuckled silently in realization. “My little jealous baby,” you cooed.

“I’m not,” he fussed.

“Oh, that’s good then. I’m going to meet Jun once I leave by the way,” you said.

Seungcheol narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Because he’s my friend,” you giggled, seeing his change in demeanor. “I’m actually probably late, so I should get going.”

Seungcheol reached down to pull you up and into a hug before you could leave. You smiled, knowing he was definitely hiding his jealousy. Your arms slid under his suit jacket, and you began to rub his back.

“Don’t go,” Seungcheol mumbled into your neck. “I’m sorry I was rude to you.”

“I’m not going to spite you, Cheol. I had already planned to see him. I just wanted to drop by to give you lunch before I went,” you explained. “I know you’ve been busy.”

You enjoyed teasing him, but you didn’t want him to think you were doing something to upset him purposely.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

You stayed silent for a moment as you felt his body gradually relax in your hold. When you felt he had calmed down, you slowly pulled away enough to see his face. You offered a small smile, tucking the hair that was in his face behind his ear. You let your hand rest on his cheek after.

“Do you forgive me?” he questioned.

“You can make up for being mean to me,” you suggested softly.

“How?” he asked, hands gripping your waist firmly so you couldn’t move too far.

You pretended to think, eyes raising to the ceiling momentarily as you thought.

“Five kisses,” you finally said.

“Only five?” Seungcheol asked playfully. You smiled at hearing his light tone. You were glad he was happier, even if it was just for now.

“Depends how good they are,” you said and leaned forward. His lips were a few inches from yours.

“They’re always good,” he scoffed lightly.

“Let me be the judge of that.”

You pressed your lips against his gently. However, Seungcheol was too anxious to go slow. He pressed you flush against him as he slipped his tongue between your lips.

He switched your positions, so you were against his desk. Your hands went down his back before landing on his ass. You gave him a mischievous squeeze that had him biting your lip in return. You giggled as you pulled away.

“We’re going to be here a long time if you kiss me like that, Cheollie,” you said. “You have four more to go.”

Seungcheol lifted you onto his desk, hands resting on the surface so he could lean closer. “That was my last meeting of the day. I’m all yours, baby.”

He kissed you again, but you pulled away before he could deepen it.

“I don’t believe you,” you replied. Hearing how annoyed he sounded earlier, you felt he had things to tend to today.

Seungcheol smirked, a small sigh leaving his mouth. “Always so smart.”

He gave you a quick peck before moving away to type something on his computer that resided on the adjacent part of his desk. While he did this, you pulled your phone out to text Jun that you’d be running late.

“There,” he announced and put his computer to sleep. “Now, I’m free.”

You set your phone down, arms coming up to hook around his neck when he returned. “Two more.”

“Two?” he asked, confused, while putting his hands on your hips.

“You just gave me another one, so yes, two.”

“That wasn’t even a kiss,” Seungcheol said, words dragging out.

“I still counted it. Two more kisses, then I’ll let you get back to work.“

“We’ll see about that,” he muttered before crashing his mouth on yours.

Smiling into the kiss, you wrapped your legs around his hips. Seungcheol’s hands rubbed your sides. His thumbs brushed against the underside of your breasts each time, making you yearn for his touch more.

You tore away from him, breathing a little heavier. He stared at you with hooded eyes.

“You’re slowly being forgiven,” you teased.

He raised a brow at you. “So, you admit my kisses are good?”

You laughed at his tone, finding him cute despite his slight smugness.

“I think I need one more to know,” you replied.

Seungcheol gave you another kiss, tongue pushing past your lips quickly as he made out with you fervently.

“Okay,” you giggled when he pulled away. “They’re good.”

“You were just being complicated,” he huffed. Your gaze glanced down at his swollen lips and then to his eyes. He was watching you closely, chest rising and falling quicker than usual. You really were lucky to have him.

“Maybe,” you smiled. “That was five, lover boy. Now, get back to work.”

You placed a hand on his chest to move him away, but he stayed still. You tilted your head at him.

“Move, Cheol,” you said in case he didn’t understand that you meant now.

Seungcheol shook his head, a hand sliding down your body until it was nestled between your legs.

“I’m not done with you, baby,” he growled lowly.

Your mouth fell open in a gasp when he started to circle your clit. Seungcheol leaned down to press open-mouthed kisses on your neck. Your hands moved to clutch his sides, pulling him closer as you spread your legs to accommodate him.

“I thought you s-said we couldn’t do this here anymore,” you stammered, a small smirk on your mouth when he tugged down your shorts.

He pulled away from your neck to mutter in your ear, “No, I said you couldn’t be so fucking loud.”

As soon as your shorts and underwear were on the floor, he kneeled. His hands gripped your thighs and shifted you closer to the edge of his desk. One of your hands immediately went to his hair, clutching it and pushing his face toward you. His tongue glided along your slit before his mouth connected with your clit.

Seungcheol gave you a pointed look and slowed his ministrations when you moaned a little too loud. You bit your lip in response since you didn’t want him to stop.

Once you quieted down, Seungcheol continued. His tongue lapped at your arousal, eyes closing briefly as he savored your taste.

You watched him in awe. You loved seeing how enthused he was whenever he was between your legs.

“This isn’t what I meant when I said I brought you lunch,” you quipped.

Seungcheol flattened his tongue, slowly gathering your slick before he stood up. He made a show of swallowing, and you shook your head playfully at his act.

“Maybe not, but I’m enjoying my meal very much,” he murmured. He slid his fingers between your folds, coating them in your wetness before pushing one inside. “You taste so good, baby.”

As a small moan slipped from your mouth, you shifted your hands down to his slacks. You unbuckled his belt quickly.

“Yeah?” you asked, feeling an odd sense of pride at the compliment.

He nodded as he chuckled and put another finger inside. He pumped them slowly. You whined at the slight stretch, needing to feel his cock instead. You pushed down his zipper and moved his pants and underwear out of the way. Your walls squeezed around his fingers at the sight of him. You reached out to spread his pre-cum before slowly rubbing his shaft.

“M-maybe you can bring me lunch again next week,” he mumbled, trying to keep his focus on your words rather than your hand.

“I can do that,” you smiled.

He grinned back and pressed his lips on yours again. His fingers started to move quicker, causing you to moan into the kiss. Seungcheol smirked, added another finger, and continued his fast movements. You were so focused on his hand that you had to pull away from the kiss to cry out, your hand pausing on him.

Seungcheol was quick to press his other hand on your mouth, muffling your moans as he gradually decreased his speed. He pulled his fingers from you but kept his hand against your face. His other hand gently took your hand off his cock.

“You’re gonna stay quiet for me, or else I’ll send you on your way out without cumming,” he threatened lowly.

You answered back, but it wasn’t very clear. He moved his hand and nodded for you to repeat.

“But you like it when I’m loud,” you whined.

“Today, I just want to have you all to myself. I want to be the only one who hears you,” he explained, hands trailing down to the top of your off-the-shoulder blouse. He tugged it down until just your bra was exposed. It had your arm movements restricted; raising them too much would push the material back up.

You started to pull your arms out, so you could move better, but Seungcheol stopped you.

“I like you like this,” he said. His hands tugged down the top of your bra, a small smirk forming on his lips when your breasts were freed from their confinements. “So beautiful.”

Seungcheol shifted a few objects on his desk before carefully laying you down on his desk. He didn’t bother undressing as he situated himself between your legs, length in hand. You attempted to prop your feet on the desk but had little trouble finding your footing.

“Here,” he said and guided your legs around him instead.

Your face heated at his readjustments. “T-thanks.”

Seungcheol smiled at you, kind and loving as if you had just said something precious to him. He aligned his tip at your entrance and leaned over you. It had his tip pushing into your entrance. You whined at the feeling, moving your hips in hopes of feeling more. However, he stayed put.

Seungcheol slid a hand behind your neck and gently lifted you slightly. He moved his face so it was mere inches from yours. Your elbows rested on the surface to be more balanced.

“I love you,” he murmured.

A grin broke out on your face. “I love you.”

He gave you a sweet kiss as he gradually sank into your heat. The feel of his cock filling you up had you tightening your legs around his waist. Seungcheol let you push him closer, deeper; his groan got lost in your mouth.

Slowly, he started to rock into you. The kiss grew sloppy with each snap of his hips. Eventually, he broke it off, mouth ajar as he basked in how you fit so well around him.

“C-Cheol,” you whimpered, hands finding a hold on his wrists that were within reach.

He stared down at you while he started to speed up. There was a thin coat of sweat beginning to form on his forehead. He adjusted himself, so he could move deeper. The position had him hitting a particular spot that made you moan loudly.

For the second time, Seungcheol covered your mouth to silence your sounds.

“You don’t listen, do you?” he asked. However, his hips suddenly slammed into yours. It had you crying out again. The smirk on his face told you it was purposeful; he wanted to hear you be noisy despite his words. His other hand moved to grip one of your breasts. Your hands moved to hold onto your shirt, needing to hold onto something.

“No one listens to me,” he huffed, suddenly recalling the events from earlier. He had been trying to close a deal for five months, but each time he tried to finalize everything, the other person would change the conditions. He was tired of going back and forth. Not to mention, some of his veteran employees have been making rookie mistakes lately. He was just fed up.

You moaned into Seungcheol’s hand when he squeezed your breast harshly. He bowed his head, hips snapping at a brutal pace. His mind was consumed with all the annoyance bottled up in him the past few weeks. He needed to let go of his frustrations. He was tired of everything going wrong around him.

Except for you. You always treated him right.

Seungcheol slowed down once he realized how rough he had been. He moved his hand from your face, eyes searching yours.

“S-sorry,” he breathed heavily. “Are you okay?”

Although you felt sore from where his skin was hitting yours, you were fine.

“Yes,” you replied. However, you grew worried for him. Seungcheol has been rough with you before, but this time felt different.

“Are you okay?” you questioned.

Seungcheol sighed, resting his head against your chest as he held you close. You moved your hands to caress his head; you didn’t care that your shirt had risen because of it.

“Is it about work?” you asked.

“I just need this deal to go through. It’s been going on for months,” he complained.

You petted his head soothingly. “Maybe you should find another place if they’re difficult.”

“I can’t. This place will benefit us greatly.”

“Hold in there then, babe. Hopefully, they’ll come around. If not, I know you’ll still be successful without them,” you tried to reassure. You didn’t completely understand all his business practices, but you knew you hated seeing him so upset.

Seungcheol lifted his head to look at you. “Because I have you.”

You giggled softly and cupped his cheeks. You gave them a subtle squish that had Seungcheol whine.

“No, because you’re really smart and hard-working.”

“But you motivate me to do better,” he replied.

Smiling, “You do too, Cheollie.”

“I like when you call me that,” he confessed quietly and leaned down.

“I know,” you murmured, raising your head to meet him for a kiss. You felt his lips spread into a grin.

He steadily began to roll his hips again. This time his pace was gentler. He pulled away and moved onto his hands again, eyes briefly glancing down where he slid into you and then to your face again. Seungcheol’s brows were drawn together in concentration.

Your hands moved to his forearms and said, “You can go faster. I’m okay.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he replied with a shake of his head.

“You won’t. I’ll tell you if you are, alright?” you reassured.

He stared at you for a moment, hips faltering. “You promise?”

“Yes,” you said.

Seungcheol nodded. You were anticipating him to pick up where he left off, but instead, he slipped out of you. Your legs unhooked from around him, and you sat up. You looked at him confused. You could already feel how sore you’d be after this was all done.

He peeled off his jacket and tossed it to the floor, spreading it out before turning to you. His arms wrapped around you and lifted you off his desk.

“Oh,” you said, surprised, and wrapped your arms around his neck.

Seungcheol carefully laid you back on his jacket on the floor.

“Better?” he asked as he settled between your legs.

You had to admit your legs were aching at having been in the same position for a while. Although the carpet wasn’t as plush as you’d like, it felt better than the hard surface of his desk. You figured he could’ve put you in his chair, but it was nice to have more room.

“Yes, thank you,” you said.

“I think I should get a couch in here soon,” he replied after a glance around his office.

There was a table and chairs in the corner for private meetings. He had bookcases and file cabinets along the wall that took up most of his space. However, there was an empty corner he could furnish.

You laughed lightly. “I think that’d be a good investment.”

“It’d make you want to visit more,” he commented.

“And what’s wrong with that?” you scoffed half-heartedly.

Seungcheol smirked. “If you haven’t noticed, you’re very distracting.”

“Not my fault you can’t keep it in your pants,” you joked.

“Oh?” he asked, suppressing a laugh.

You gave him a challenging look. It had Seungcheol laughing at your cute expression.

“I guess you’re right,” he said. “You’re just too beautiful and mine not to fuck dumb.”

“I-I don’t become dumb,” you argued weakly.

“Should we find that out now?” he asked, rubbing the tip of his cock along your dripping folds.

Your hips jerked slightly when he grazed your clit.

“Buy me a new pair of shoes if you lose,” you forced out. You tried not to focus on how he was pushing into you slightly before pulling away.

“Oh, we’re betting on this? Alright. You have to buy me a new watch,” he bargained.

You rolled your eyes. “You have like five different ones already.”

“And it’ll be six soon,” he smiled smugly.

“You don’t know that.”

“Baby, yes, I do,” he chuckled confidently.

You opened your mouth to retaliate, but what came out instead was a gasp.

Seungcheol had pushed into your core abruptly. He wasn’t as abrasive as before, but he was quicker than a few minutes ago. He stared down, his eyes watching as his cock disappeared into your body. He loved seeing how stuffed he made you.

Suddenly his finger was on your clit, rubbing harsh circles that had you moaning his name and gripping the carpet.

“Always so good for me,” he praised. “Isn’t that right, baby girl?”

You nodded, walls clenching at his words. He sucked in a breath at the feeling but didn’t let that distract him. He wanted to see you babbling; he wanted to see your eyes roll back. He moved his hand and grabbed the back of your thighs. He moved them to your chest. It wasn’t the most comfortable position due to the not-so-soft ground, but your only thought was chasing your high.

“Fuck, C-Cheol,” you rasped at the deeper feeling. Your head leaned back as he thrust swiftly.

Seungcheol quickly shoved down your top again, fixing it so he could see how your beasts bounced with each snap of his hips. You felt the coil in your stomach tightening the longer he fucked into you.

“Tell me how good I’m making you feel,” he grunted.

“Y-yes,” you stuttered. “Feels so—Hmph!—good. Love your c-cock.”

Seungcheol couldn’t stop the smirk on his face. He was pleased to see how easy it was to get you to fall apart.

“Wanna come for me, angel?” he panted, feeling his own climax approaching.

“Please!” you begged.

“Go ahead,” he said.

Seungcheol moved his hips a little harder, a litter faster, until your legs were trembling, and his hips were stuttering. He cursed out your name when he came. Your walls fluttered around his cock as he spilled himself in your cunt.

The sounds of panting filled the room while you both eased down from your orgasms.

“I think I won,” Seungcheol gloated between breaths.

“Whatever,” you huffed in jest, knowing he was right but not wanting to admit it.

He smiled, leaning down to peck your lips before carefully pulling out and standing up. You stayed on the floor, tired. You could feel his cum begin to leak out of you and onto his jacket.

Seungcheol came back within seconds and guided your legs into your panties and shorts again. He slid them up your legs; however, before he fully dressed you, he gathered his cum on his fingers and shoved it back in. You mewled at the sensation but didn’t push him away.

Once he was done, he slid your clothes on.

“Keep my cum in you when you visit that friend of yours, baby,” he instructed.

Your eyes widened at realizing the intentions of his previous actions.

“O-okay,” you agreed, face heating at the thought of leaving with his seed pooling in your panties. He smiled, happy to hear that, then helped you to your feet. Seungcheol spotted a faint stain on his jacket, but he didn’t care. He plucked the clothing item from the floor and put it in his chair.

“I would make you stay longer, but you got a watch to buy me,” he said, a cocky grin on his face.

You glared at him as you fixed your top. Seungcheol just raised an eyebrow challengingly while he tucked himself back in his pants. He fixed his tie and smoothed down his shirt.

“Do you have a particular one in mind?” you asked, reaching toward him to fix his messy hair.

“Surprise me,” he shrugged. His smirk had turned into a kind smile at your gesture, his dimples showing.

When you pulled away, you poked them mirthfully. It wasn’t your first time doing so, so Seungcheol just smiled more.

“Come on, I’ll walk you out,” he said and grabbed your purse. You thanked him, taking it and following him out of his office. Some people stared at you both as you passed but quickly averted their eyes when you caught their gaze.

“I think you might get some questions,” you told Seungcheol in the elevator.

Seungcheol glanced at you, hand in yours. “Next time, I’ll have to gag you.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Cheollie,” you purred and angled your body, so it was against his more. He chuckled and gave your forehead a kiss.

“I’ll get that couch ordered today,” he informed.

“Today? You’re eager for more lunch visits?” you asked.

“Perhaps,” he grinned. “But I want you to have a more comfortable place to rest when you come over anyway. You don’t look comfy when you’re napping at the table.”

You shrugged. He was right, but you weren’t going to complain when all you wanted to do was spend time with him—even when you were catching some z’s.

“I don’t mind,” you replied.

“I do, though,” he said, a little sternly to let you know he wasn’t going to change his mind.

When the elevator dinged your arrival, you moved away from him. He kept his hands in yours, not bothering to show a little PDA in his own building.

“Will you call me when you get home?” he asked once he stood near the door.

“Of course. Don’t stay here too long, okay? You’ve been here too much lately,” you frowned, staring at him with pleading eyes.

He sighed and gave you a sympathetic look. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll be there early tonight, baby.”

“You better,” you grumbled. “Or else the watch will be mine.”

Seungcheol chuckled and nodded. “Noted. Drive safely.”

“I will. Can I give you a quick kiss?” you asked. You knew he wanted to keep the PDA at a minimum, and you wanted to respect his wishes.

Seungcheol glanced around quickly, seeing only a few people wandering the lobby.

“Okay,” he said.

You smiled and pressed your mouth against his. You let it linger for a few seconds before pulling away.

“See you at home, Cheollie,” you said.

“See you then,” he replied. You turned, but before you could take a step, you felt his hand lightly hit your ass.

You turned, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Remember what I said?” he asked.

You ducked your head down at his question. You could already feel his cum starting to slowly seep out of your pussy. “Yes.”

“Good,” he smirked and started to walk backward. “Bye, beautiful.”

You huffed at his audacity, waving at him with a playful glare before exiting the building.

Needless to say, you were extremely late meeting Jun. You simply said you got caught up in traffic going to and from Seungcheol’s office. Jun was hesitant about if he believed you, but he let it go. At some point, you had to excuse yourself to the bathroom when you felt Seungcheol’s cum leak from your panties. Your walls clenched around nothing, unintentionally pushing more of his seed out as your saw how ruined your underwear was. You weren’t going to send Seungcheol a picture at first, but you wanted to show him the mess he made.

Cheollie 🥵 [3:31] my messy baby

Cheollie 🥵 [3:31] i’ll make a mess out of u again tonight if u let me

You [3:32] you def better be home early tonight then.

Cheollie 🥵 [3:34] 😉

You hastily cleaned yourself up, heart beating quickly with anticipation for tonight.

You hung out with Jun for another half an hour before you left. On your way home, you stopped by a candy store. Seungcheol wanted a watch, but he never specified what kind of watch. You had planned to buy him an actual one, but then recalled the edible watches you had seen as a kid. You’d buy him a real watch later. You just wanted to play with him first.

Seungcheol came home early as promised. It was peaceful for two minutes before he was pushing you against the wall, telling you how you had gotten him hard again. Thankfully, he was in an online meeting, so no one could see his growing bulge. However, the rest of the day was filled with mental images of you both in compromising positions.

You weren’t able to give him his watch until the next day, but when you presented it to him, he doubled over laughing. It was a sound you adored hearing, and you were so grateful you were the cause of it. You thought he’d eat it, however, he wore it to work that day. Something about how he wanted to have something to remember you by. It was just a plus he could have a few nibbles as a snack throughout the day. He got funny looks and a few questions about it, but he didn’t mind. He loved having anything you bought him. Even if it was just a silly candy watch.

A/N: BSS COMEBACK LET'S GO 😈

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#svt smut #seungcheol smut #svt fanfic #seungcheol fanfic #kdiarynet #scoups smut #scoups fluff #seungcheol fluff #svt fluff #scoups fanfic #scoups x you #seungcheol x you #mimikookie writes #scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader

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lichmyass · 3 months

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Yautja WIP - 18+ / Trigger warning

Will eventually be a romance...maybe. again, super long. NOT FOR MINORS. TRIGGER WARNINGS- ALL OF THEM. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRESION.

Flies buzz among the hides left to tan under the baking sun, drawn by minuscule fragments of fat. My mind lazily floats in a haze of childhood memories as my eyes stare at nothing.

Acrid air thick with cigarette smoke, the smell of overflowing trash bins, cicadas screaming en masse, and the summer heat distorting the air outside the dingy window visible beyond the nails driven into its rotting wooden frame. Muffled screaming from another room as my mother fights with one of the many men she dubs 'boyfriend.' Anxiety pulses through my body, matching the dull aches left from bruises and broken bones.

The throbbing pain from my early memories isn't too different from the numb pain radiating through me now. I shift slightly, and the heavy chain tethering me to the ground by the ankle clinks, drawing me from my thoughts. Sweat drips down from my hairline, dampening my brows. The heat from the cracked, baked earth rises, fading into my sore body.

I’m unsure what to feel in this situation. Initially, there was panic, fear, and icy horror at the surety of imminent death. I witnessed men torn apart in ways that made reality itself quake and tremble. These men, who seemed to be made of diamond and steel, violently broke my body as if it were made of paper.

The men shattered bloodily, as if by the air itself, until waves of their blood bathed the forms of invisible monsters before my eyes. It was over in less than a minute. When I blinked, the monsters became real, and I was circled by three titans.

I held my breath, awaiting the verdict of their silent judgment.

A full night and half a day passed. Now, I sit chained to the ground where they had deposited me before shimmering away into the ether. If they don't unmake me like they did the others, the sun will surely burn away what little life I have left. I’ll be little more than a dried-out corpse in no time, like a worm on a sidewalk.

Living in a rural township in Oklahoma, I was already secluded. Now, I've been carted off further into sprawling, long-abandoned farmland withering in the record-breaking summer heat. The only ones likely to find my body will be buzzards and coyotes.

My skin stings, and I know the burns will blister and scar. My throat feels as dry as the dirt I sit on. Wasps rise and buzz away intermittently from the cracking brown stalks of prairie grass around me. I hope to pass out soon, letting death overtake me as painlessly as possible.

I let my body slowly fall from my sitting position to lay belly-down, relieving my strained back muscles and letting blood circulate through my legs and rear. The dirt itself somehow smells like heat. I cast my eyes to the only shade around, the small puddles under the hides stretched over makeshift racks of bramble. I envy the insects that seek refuge there.

The hides, remnants of men who are now little more than muffled memories. I hadn't really known them, scarcely able to summon names to their faces. Only a familiarity from living in a small town, seeing the same faces from the other side of the register during my shifts at the local food mart. One might have been in my graduating high school class, but nearly two decades and evident drug habits had made that idea more a suggestion. Another wore the uniform of the local prison staff—the prison being the county’s only notable feature.

Their looks made me uncomfortable as I scanned their beer and cigarettes, but I maintained my standard retail employee fake smile and wished them a good day. Not long after, the store manager announced a prison break over the speaker, advising everyone to return home.

Prison inmates escaping wasn’t unusual. One or two managed every year. The news was more an annoyance. As I shut down my register and counted my till, I noticed more police officers on the streets than usual, several from other counties. That wasn't unexpected either.

What struck me as odd, as I walked through the store to the office and past the front windows, was the strained expressions and tense body language of the officers in the parking lot. They gathered and discussed something urgently. Typically, they got excited, even giddy, at such events. It was usually the most activity they got all year.

I clocked out and exited through the side door into the alley beside the train tracks, which I always followed for about a quarter of a mile home. I never made it that far. The men had been waiting behind an abandoned auto-shop, a blanket of empty beer cans and cigarette butts littering the eroded cement around them.

As a woman, I was aware of the statistics. But a tiny part of my brain had always assumed I wouldn’t contribute to them. Boys in school wouldn’t have touched me with a ten-foot pole and were vocal about it. A tiny reassuring voice always piped up, ‘oh, you won’t have to worry about all that,’ whenever a newscaster reported an attack on some poor woman. The photos always showed pretty little things a quarter my weight.

I thought I’d be safe from that particular danger, more likely to get bitten by a copperhead on my way home late at night than singled out by men with ill intent. I was wrong. It took me a shameful amount of time to recognize the threat as I walked past them with barely a second thought.

They followed me almost the whole way home. I didn’t notice until I smelled cheap beer on their breath and felt a grimy hand clamp down on my shoulder. One grabbed a handful of my hair at the base of my skull as another punched me so hard in the gut I threw up. I was dragged through a vacant lot into what had once been an RV park, where they started beating me.

Beatings weren’t new to me. Strangely, a part of me was resigned to lay there and let it pass. A morbid feeling of familiarity rustled inside my skull. It wasn’t until belt buckles clicked and wheezing chuckles filled the humid air that panic pricked at my skin. Two of them held me down, pressing my arms into the ground as gravel embedded itself into my belly. I began kicking furiously and screaming, my voice a death-rattle. The back of my head was struck, and I saw stars as my mouth opened and closed like a fish in desperation. I felt dirty fingers tugging at my waistband, and then everything stopped.

For a moment, the world froze around me. Then came the screaming and the blood.

And here I am, wondering if this situation is any better than the fate I would have had. I know I won’t last much longer, and every second I do will be hell.

Fractional relief comes once the sun sets, though the slightly decreased temperature and lack of sun exposure come at the cost of swarms of mosquitoes descending upon me, irritating my already blistered flesh. I close my eyes lightly, to avoid stretching my stinging skin. My head swims as pain throbs in my bones.

The insects abruptly silence around me. I crack my eyes open and stiffen. Somewhere to my right, something emits an ear-piercing scream that makes my hearing fuzz out. Suddenly, I’m on my feet quicker than I thought possible, crouched low and heart pounding. It’s not the sound of any animal I know, though it resembles a coyote’s scream. There's a quality about it that---

struck me as inherently wrong. Thankful for the small amount of light from the nearly full moon, I scanned my surroundings for something, anything, to defend myself with as the tall grass rustled before me. Gritting my teeth, I slowly crouched lower and began to wind the chain tethering me in my hands, stopping when it grew taut.

The grass stilled, and there was a low hiss, akin to a cat’s. I could just make out the moonlight glinting off something dark and smooth, coiling as if about to strike.

With strength I didn’t know I had, I strained my muscles to the breaking point and ripped the long metal spike pinning the chain into the ground free. No sooner had it come loose than the creature launched itself at me. Its body struck, and I hit the hard ground with a thud, the air forced from my lungs.

Sharp claws tore at my shoulders. Instinctively, my hand found the metal spike, and I drove it as hard as I could into the creature’s head—elongated and slightly curved, with no visible eyes. I wasn’t strong enough, a part of me noted grimly, as the creature screamed and flailed in rage.

Scrambling frantically, I managed to push myself out from under it as its long tail slashed through the air and its maw snapped shut. I rose to my feet as it hissed again. The bottom of my shoe found the head of the spike. With a scream of desperation, I put all my strength into it, dropping my body weight onto it. Relief flooded me as I felt, rather than heard, a sickening pop and crunch as the creature fell limp.

My brief victory was cut short when the bottom of my foot began to burn. I ripped my shoe off quicker than lightning, watching it melt away on the ground where I’d dropped it. Plopping down on my butt, I gathered my foot to inspect it, wincing when I ghosted my fingertips over the sole. Luckily, it didn’t feel worse than a slight burn.

I realized I was breathing hard, practically panting, my veins buzzing. I eyed the creature for a long, hard minute before letting myself fall backward with an exhale, satisfied it was truly dead.

I breathed in and out, closing my eyes for a moment. When I rose and pulled the chain, I found most of it dissolved like my shoe. The remaining length was awkward—too short to carry but long enough to trip me up or catch on brambles. With a huff, I removed my other shoe and pulled the laces free, wrapping the chain around my ankle and securing it with the laces. I didn’t want the chain making any unnecessary noise; not if I was going to try to make it back home without another one of those things finding me.

The terrain would be hard on my bare feet, but it wouldn’t be any worse than what I’d already suffered.

Taking a deep breath, I took a few steps in the direction of home, promptly hitting the ground as my overly strained muscles turned to jelly. My brain filled with curses as I balled my fist and hit the ground, letting out a growl of frustration. I got on my hands and knees and began to crawl. I didn’t care how long it took; I just wanted to get home.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t made it more than a few hundred feet—my knees already raw and bloodied—when rapid clicking sounded around me. I froze. I knew this sound. Them.

My eyes frantically darted around, but I saw nothing through the dry blades of grass I was hidden in. If I was lucky, maybe I could stay hidden and wait them out. I tensed and held my breath, heart pounding in my ears. The grass around me rustled softly. I felt like a fox surrounded by hounds, fighting the urge to bolt. I knew I wouldn’t make it far. I doubted I’d even get to my feet, let alone run. Even if I could, I wasn’t a fast runner by any means.

Abruptly, I was pulled backwards. I found myself huffing out and blinking skyward, my brain stuttering.

A large, masked form stood over me, chittering like an insect. In the moonlight, his mesh-covered scaly skin looked almost iridescent, like an oil-slick. His hair-like tresses, not dissimilar to dreadlocks, swayed slightly as he cocked his head. I tensed as he suddenly crouched, massive claw-tipped fingers reaching up to pull small hoses from his mask with a hiss before he removed it. My eyes widened.

Glowing orange eyes set deep within their sockets above a quartet of long digits growing from each cheekbone and either side of his jaw, connected by a thin membrane like a bat's wing over a wickedly sharp fanged maw. No discernable nose or nostrils. A large sloping forehead ending in a fanned crest tipped in subtle spikes. His mandibles spread slowly, only to close just as slowly as my eyes numbly took his visage in.

I emitted a sound, low and scratchy, like a brooding hen. He blinked.

Shimmering into my vision, his two companions stared down at me, their own steely masks affixed as the trio exchanged what I assumed must be words of some kind—a series of clicks and vowel sounds. The individual before me rose, addressing the one to his left and my right, moving his large hands expressly as he seemed to speak. I flinched as he gestured to my ankle, then back toward where I had been. The one to my left spoke, and silence fell as three sets of eyes focused on me.

I tried, and failed, to sit up. The trio cocked their heads. I sighed and closed my eyes. I didn’t have any strength left. None at all. Silently, I hoped they’d just leave and let me die in peace. No such luck. The unmasked one crouched again, grasping my upper arm and simply pulling me to my feet like a ragdoll. Once I was standing, he released my arm, and I gasped, clutching his hip—just under chest height for me—to stop myself from falling.

The creature hissed and swatted my hand away. I fell back to the ground with a hard thud and a groan before another repeated the first's action, keeping a firm grip on my arm to keep me steady. When it became evident I could only move at a slow hobble at best, I gasped again as I was swept up into giant arms, carried like a child, over-tired from play.

The rough texture of scales rubbed painfully against the burnt skin on my shoulder as I was awkwardly carried back to the site with the tanning racks. The one carrying me obviously wanted to minimize physical contact, one hand spanning my right shoulder and the other bracing my lower back from the left.

Back where I had been tethered, another interacted with a gauntlet on his right forearm. A structure shimmered into view—a large ramp descending silently. I distantly realized it was some sort of aircraft as I was carried inside and deposited roughly onto a large stone platform covered in animal pelts.

My eyes roamed over strange carvings on the metal walls, pausing on the far wall which displayed an armory of strange weapons—spears, knives, whips, and other sharp metallic objects. The trio exchanged more words as one rummaged through large metal crates and another exited briefly, returning with the head of the creature I’d encountered earlier. He strode across the room and behind a large partition made of hide. The unmasked one regarded me from where he stood before me, clawed hands on his hips.

The one searching a crate paused and lifted something out, showing it to the unmasked one, who simply nodded and stalked over to me, large hands pinning me down by the shoulders. I frowned and clenched my teeth as the other appeared to my left, brandishing what looked like the world’s biggest needle before jabbing it into my side without ceremony.

Pain unlike anything I’d ever known seared through my body. All I could do was gasp like a fish as my vision went white, too overwhelmed to even scream as massive hands kept me firmly pinned down. I wasn’t sure how long it lasted. Feeling nauseous sometime later as the white-hot waves of pain began to ebb, sweat slicked my skin.

I blinked rapidly up at the alien face regarding me stoically. Its molten gaze seemed almost…curious.

“Ouch,” I croaked out, surprising myself as much as the alien above me. I hadn’t meant to speak, but maybe the look he’d had inspired me to provide an unasked-for response.

The one who’d injected me made a sound then—a low, rasping series of growls that sounded like laughter. I glared at him for his audacity. Returning my gaze to the unmasked one, I lifted my brows at the mirth I found there as he slowly released my shoulders and took a single step back.

I sat up, mouth parting as I felt my strength returning. Slowly, I raised my hands to run my fingers carefully over my face, finding that my skin was smooth and unburnt. I turned my head to scowl at the one who had injected me, who only laughed more.

The unmasked one had scales composed of shades of black and gray, reflecting light and reminding me of a mythical dragon. The one who had healed me looked more crocodilian with dark green scales mingling with lighter green and pale yellow on his palms and exposed belly. The third one, who had disappeared across the room, had similar coloration but with more earthy brown mingling with his green, and the paler parts were more tan.

Faster than I could process, I was jabbed again, this time behind the ear. I squawked and clapped my hand over the newest injection site. My tormentor held his hands up in peace, what appeared to be a piercing gun dangling from one large finger as he continued to chuckle at me.

My ears rang, and I clenched my eyelids shut, letting out a hiss as the ringing slowly faded. I reopened my eyes to glare daggers at the needle-happy sadist as the unmasked one leaned forward with interest. Both he and the masked one stared at me, unblinking. I blinked back at them.

“Did it work?” asked the one who had injected me, in perfect English. I gasped, looking at him with my mouth open. “Ah! It seems to have worked,” he added, stepping back and tilting his massive head. The unmasked one crossed his muscled arms over his chest, fixing me with a slight glare of his own.

“Why doesn’t it speak?” he asked, his coquelicot eyes narrowing at the other, who merely shrugged. “Perhaps it is defective?”

At this, the other placed his talon-tipped hands on his hips indignantly. “Veidei, you of all should know that my technology is without fault, and I—”

Veidei silenced him by raising a hand. “No, you fool. I refer to the ooman. Perhaps it is defective,” he spoke, scrutinizing me.

I frowned as they stared at me, mirroring them as I crossed my own arms over my chest. “Maybe so, but I can speak,” I managed, my voice rough. “Why did y’all save me?”

They regarded me silently. The dark one—Veidei—inhaled deeply, casting a knowing glance toward the other.

“Routine planetary scans alerted us to the presence of Kainde Amedha here, and they are not permitted to be on this planet outside of a sanctioned Chiva. So we were dispatched to eliminate them and investigate the nature of their presence here. It seems that your governing body purposefully introduced them to your ‘prison’ in what we can only assume was some form of idiotic experiment,” the green one stated matter-of-factly. “We destroyed them, the site, and all involved. Except for the singular one that you yourself seem to have dispatched, somehow.”

I let this information sink in. The ‘Kainde Amedha’ wasn’t something the apparent translator implanted behind my ear could parse. Given what he’d said, it was obviously the thing I’d killed. The concept of more of those running rampant inside the prison made me feel queasy. I shook my head to rid the image of the creature from my mind.

"That's all fine and good," I began, leveling my gaze at him as best I could despite the metal mask he wore. "But that didn’t answer my question."

He cocked his head, and his mandibles clicked behind his mask.

“I will elaborate, Tho’ka. It was on my orders that we acted,” spoke Veidei, leaning down a bit to better catch my gaze. “We were scouting the area and noticed one of the males exiting the site. We followed him, thinking he might reveal more information. He did not. We watched as he and the two other males became intoxicated and were about to return to the site when they acted dishonorably. So we dealt with them.”

I furrowed my brow and shifted uncomfortably where I sat, my fingers finding a loose thread at the hem of my shirt and worrying it. “Dishonorably? So you killed them because they tried to rape me?”

Veidei and Tho’ka cocked their heads in tandem. “Of course. It was dishonorable,” stated Tho’ka, as if confused that I didn’t grasp the concept.

“But...you don’t even know me. You’re not even human,” I replied numbly. “Why? Why bother?”

Veidei reared back as if he’d been slapped and let out a rumbling growl. “We are Yautja. We have Honor. Do not think we are like oomans who would permit such acts to go unpunished. When you stand by and allow dishonorable acts to happen, you may as well be committing them yourself. We honor Paya by remembering this, as we honor ourselves by remembering the codes of our people,” he spoke, eyes burning with passion as he stood tall.

I blinked as Tho’ka nodded in agreement.

“So then you tied me up and left me to die of exposure,” I deadpanned. Just like that, Veidei looked like a kicked puppy so quickly that I might’ve laughed if my mood had allowed for it.

Tho’ka strode around the platform I sat on to reassuringly touch Veidei’s shoulder briefly before he turned slightly to face me. “We might’ve underestimated how long our hunt would take, a little,” he spoke, having the courtesy to sound a bit regretful.

“Fine,” I said with an exhale. “So, now what?” I added, brow raised.

Tho’ka removed his mask and clipped it to his belt, stretching his mandibles slightly and leveling a citrine gaze at me. I braced myself for what instinct told me would be bad news as he took a small step closer.

“Our laws prohibit us from leaving witnesses,” he began steadily, raising his large hands slowly in a demonstration of peace. “But you were unworthy prey—killing you would have been against our laws as well.”

I stiffened, my eyes darting around, looking for exits as Veidei shifted to block me in from the right and Tho’ka blocked me in from the left. My hackles rose as I realized that, at some point, the other one—whose name I hadn’t heard yet—had come to stand behind me without making a single sound.

“So...” I stalled, gulping.

“You dispatched one of the Kainde Amedha. Which means you now qualify as worthy prey,” spoke Veidei, his voice low. “However,” he added when my panic spiked, “if you were Yautja, it would mean you were now a blooded warrior.”

Silence fell heavily as my heart pounded in my ears, the air thick with tension.

“We can either hunt you, or...” spoke Tho’ka, casting his gaze to Veidei curiously, as if he himself were unsure what the final decision would be.

From what I could gather so far, Veidei seemed to be the de facto leader of the trio. My eyes scoured his for any indication of his intent.

“Clearly, it is ill-suited to be a sain’ja,” spoke the one behind me.

“Perhaps an ‘aseigan,’” he added.

“Nah’kou offers a viable option, Veidei,” mused Tho’ka, as Veidei tilted his head in consideration.

I had no idea what an ‘aseigan’ was, but it sounded better than dead. I bit the tip of my tongue between my teeth and awaited Veidei’s decision.

Veidei's eyes, a fiery coquelicot hue, studied me intently. His mandibles twitched slightly, indicating deep thought. Tho’ka and Nah’kou, the one behind me, watched their leader, waiting for his judgment.

After what felt like an eternity, Veidei spoke. “An ‘aseigan’ is one who serves the Yautja, often a mark of great dishonor or redemption. It is not a role given lightly.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “You have proven yourself resilient, if nothing else.”

I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “What does being an ‘aseigan’ entail?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.

Tho’ka stepped closer, his mandibles clicking softly. “It means you will serve us, follow our commands, and prove your worth over time. You will not be hunted, but you will not be free.”

Veidei nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. “Your life will be spared, but it will be a hard one. You will earn your place among us, or you will die trying.”

The reality of my situation sank in. Serving these alien hunters, living by their rules, was far from ideal, but it was survival. I nodded slowly, meeting Veidei’s intense gaze. “I understand,” I said. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Nah’kou let out a low, approving growl, while Tho’ka’s eyes glinted with something akin to respect. Veidei, satisfied with my response, straightened to his full height.

“Very well,” Veidei declared. “You will be our aseigan. Prove yourself, and you may find a place among us.”

With that, the tension in the room shifted. The immediate threat of death was replaced by the daunting challenge ahead. I knew my journey was far from over, but at least I had a chance to fight for my survival.

Tho’ka and Nah’kou began to converse in their native tongue, their voices a mix of clicks and growls. Veidei motioned for me to follow him. As I stood, I realized the gravity of my new reality. I was now part of their world, bound by their laws and expectations.

We moved through the ship’s corridors, the alien technology both fascinating and intimidating. Veidei led me to a small chamber, sparsely furnished but functional. “This will be your quarters,” he said. “Rest now. Your training begins tomorrow.”

I nodded, stepping into the room. As the door closed behind me, I felt a strange mix of relief and apprehension. I had survived the immediate danger, but my new life as an aseigan would be a constant test of my endurance and willpower.

I sank onto the small cot, exhaustion washing over me. The events of the past days played through my mind, a whirlwind of fear, pain, and unexpected allies. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself a moment of respite, knowing that tomorrow would bring new challenges and unknown trials.

For now, I was alive. And that was enough.

But as I lay there, the enormity of my situation loomed. What would this new life demand of me? Could I rise to the challenge and find a place among these alien warriors? The questions swirled in my mind, refusing to let me rest.

A soft hum emanated from the walls, a reminder of the ship's vastness and the world beyond this small chamber. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever lay ahead. This was not the end of my story—only the beginning of a new chapter.

Whether my future held redemption or further trials, only time would tell. But one thing was certain: I would face it head-on, with the same resilience that had brought me this far. As sleep finally claimed me, I made a silent vow to survive, to fight, and to find my place in this strange new world.

Whatever it takes.

#Yautja #predator #monster fucker #terato #terat0philliac #My writing

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unfriendlyamazon · 3 months

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the demon's debt (wip weekday)

continuing the motivation i've got going on this week here's another little smidge from the inn for spirits au for my kaijou lovers out there, y'all knew i was putting a marriage contract in this

Voices roused Jounouchi. He groaned as he buried his head deeper into the blanket. He loved to spend his first few waking minutes pretending he was anywhere else but here. He imagined the air was sweet with the smell of cypress and lime, and the sheets he wore were silk, and there was a warmth that brimmed the air. A purring sound nearby sent his hand reaching out instinctively, and he clutched soft fur.

Jounouchi lifted his head up.

Red Eyes sat on the futon with him, unblinking as she purred, both tails curled around her feet. That was the most normal thing he saw. This was not his room, not his bed, not his clothes! He looked down at the yukata that had been tied around his waist, black in color and embroidered with a red dragon design. The blue silk sheets draped over the low bed, and the wooden walls were dark but cozy in their embrace. Somewhere, he could hear a bubbling spring, water being poured, the scrape of stone tableware. The perfumed air clung in his nostrils, filling his senses. He climbed to his feet and threw himself at the nearby window, staring out at what he saw.

And what he saw was this: the dark wood of a large inn traveled down the rocky path of an island, surrounded on all sides by dark water that reflect that fat full moon ten sizes too large that hung heavy in the star studded sky. Boats on the shoreline, and in the sky balloons with propellers that hung lazily. Beyond the bay’s water he could see land and more lights, a town perhaps, that reflected gold across the salt smelling waves. Kites flew above, and streaking over them was a dragon that moved in lazy waves, pouring wisps from it like faerie fire. And below, on the rocky shore of the island, onsens were half-hidden by wooden slats, but he could still make out the creatures that soaked in the water. A large fox with nine tails curled beside three kappa that rolled their heads back, paying no mind to the water spilling out. An ogre traipsed by, wearing a yukata, dragging his large brutish arms on the ground. Other creatures, some with noses like elephants, or tails like snakes, or long hair that trailed behind like a woodblock painting. Yokai, oni, ayakashi, all in one place. All in this place, which was not Domino, might not even be Japan.

Okay, now Jounouchi was starting to panic.

There was only one exit to the room if he didn’t feel like scaling the wall, and that was the shoji door. He threw himself at it, grabbing the wood, and threw it back, and he came face to face with a demon.

Jounouchi shouted, falling backwards, and landed right on his ass. Towering over with was the dragon that had grabbed his wrist. Now he wore a kamishimo of ice blue, with intricate lines depicting scales that that arced with the wide shoulders. A house name was written on a crest, the characters for sea horse. He still wore the dragon’s mask that grinned at him. The face beneath was solid, the chin set strong, and his blue eyes glowed.

“Good, you’re awake,” the demon said. “Isono, escort our guest.”

From behind him emerged an even larger shape, and Jounouchi’s mouth dropped in horror. An oni in a well tailored suit started forward, grabbing Jounouchi by the arm and dragging him into the air. He was dropped gracefully back onto his feet.

“Let go,” Jounouchi said automatically. He yanked his arm free and took a step back. “Where am I?”

“You are a guest of my establishment,” the demon said. “This is the Dragon’s Den, an inn that sits between the Hidden Realm and human realm. It is a place where spirits come to rest on their travels.”

“Okay,” Jounouchi said. “What am I doing here?”

A single twitch marred the demon’s face. “I told you. Your hand was sold to me, and I have come to claim my debt. By the next moon’s cycle we will be wed.”

“No,” Jounouchi said. “No, no, that’s made up. I never made a deal with any demon, first off, and second off, we can’t get married, we’re two guys.”

He smirked. “Isono, if you please.”

The ogre reached into his jacket and removed a scroll, unrolling it for Jounouchi to see. The kanji swam in front of his eyes, but by the end it was clear. All debts to be repaid in full and, failing that, the seizure of one Jounouchi Katsuya, signed and sealed by Jounouchi Koji.

Jounouchi stared at his father’s name, signed in his hand, and all he could say was, “Motherfucker.”

“Quite,” the demon said. “Five years ago your father walked into my gaming establishment and marked a debt in booze, food, and gambling that he was unable to pay. Laws in the demon realm are fluid in what can be traded, as long as equal value is established. Last month, your father passed, didn’t he? With his debt still unpaid, I am forced to turn to my next option.”

“But–” Jounouchi stared up at him, eyes wide. “How much was it?”

“Three million yen.”

“Three–” Jounouch felt the same way as when he took the lead pipe to the ribs. He almost hit the floor. He couldn’t even make the words that followed, could only stare and gasp like a dying fish.

“I was generous, of course,” the demon said. “A man shouldn’t be expected to give away his only son just like that. I offered him to work off the debt, or give repayment, but he never did. Normally with humans I can be forgiving. They leave this place believing it was only a dream, but this is not an insignificant payment. It leaves me with no choice, which is why to absolve your debt, I’ll take you as my bride.”

“Stop saying that,” Jounouchi spat. “I’m nobody’s bride, okay, and like I said, we can’t exactly get hitched.”

The demon grinned with white and shiny teeth. “In the human realm, it’s more difficult, but the Hidden Realm does not worry about such things. You will wed me, and I cannot exactly pay your debt to myself, so it will be rendered null. It is the fair proposition.”

“No, it’s stupid. Why would I even want to marry you?”

“I am rich, I am powerful, I am loved.” He held out his hands. “Would you like more reason?”

“Look,” Jounouchi said, stamping his foot down, “I can’t marry a demon, and I can’t marry anybody I just met. I don’t even know your name!”

“I have forgone introductions,” he said with a bow. “My name is Kaiba Seto, the White Dragon of the East. I am lord of everything east to the mountains, and this place is under my protection. As are you, so long as you’re here.”

“But–” Jounouchi sucked in a breath. “But why me?”

The demon lord looked at him through his mask. He considered him a beat too long, and then he shook his head. “You have the gift to see our kind. You are young and strong. Your heart is kind and brave. All those things make you delicious to our kind. If I can keep you, I can devour you at my leisure, or all at once, or not at all, if I so wish it.”

“Devour me?” Jounouchi crossed his arms in front of him. “No, absolutely not.”

“I am afraid you don’t have much choice in the matter.”

#inn for spirits #kaijou #trying to stay motivated out here #juggling two very different aus right now

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kweenkday · 2 months

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WIP game: something from "cat thief"? 🐈👀 <3

of course, of course! headsup: it IS ridiculous 😆

Andrew stares at the open chat window for a full minute. Well, fuck it! What’s the worst that could happen? Besides, he isn’t doing this because neiljos10 is hot (which he is, if Andrew is judging by the one profile picture of him with his cat licking his face). He’s going it to save a cat! Possibly. He decides to stick to this story. hey, I saw your post about your ex stealing your cat Andrew waits. The three dots on the bottom pop up and go away a few times before Neil’s message appears. yeah? if you’re going to tell me to call the cops like everyone else did, save it. I don’t fuck with the cops. Andrew laughs. You and me both, Neil, he almost types back. it this your ex? Andrew drops a picture of Kevin he has on his phone for… personal reasons. He realizes it’s a bit damning—Kevin’s shirt is up to his chest and he’s wiping sweat off his neck with it—but it’s the only one he has of him with clothes on. And no, he is not sending Neil a picture of his possible ex boyfriend lying in Andrew’s bed in his damn underwear. He has some sense of tact, contrary to common opinion. you know Kevin??? WAIT! Do YOU have anything to do with kidnapping my cat!? Oh, this is just amazing… I’m going to find you wherever you are The three dots dance at the bottom of the screen. Andrew laughs to himself. This guy is a fucking lunatic. He loves it. I didn’t steal your cat, he types before Neil spills more threats. but I can help you get it back

#aftg #andreil #my wips #being mad on main as usual

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the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes · 2 months

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𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝒯𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐸𝓎𝑒𝓈 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 40 Sight a Proposal, Plans Go Awr-Eye

Pairing: Alastor x F!OC (Theia, The Demon of a Thousand Eyes)

Chapter Summary: You, Alastor, and Ombre get your dance to 'We Three' by The Inkspots, Alastor gives his proposal speech, and friends get to give their congratulations. Even 'Uncle' Noctua makes a surprise appearance. It's not the only surprise in store, however…

Word Count: 8.7k

Warnings: Implied Cannibalism, Alastor talking for fucking waaaaay too long, kidnapping

A/N: I haven't finished writing 43 and I suspect I might never complete it, but I will give you all what I have left, and at the end of the chapters in the notes, you can find what my initial plans were for this story, as I've had it for quite some time. Find me in the after chapter notes for an explanation as to why I have decided to leave this story as a mostly WIP despite knowing the entire story's ending.

It’s late into the afternoon by the time you’ve finished your postponed meal at the cannibal café with Alastor, and you feel quite full and satisfied. A complete twenty minutes later, and the two of you are in the town square. The sun is low in the sky but it’s not dark enough for the streetlights to come on just yet. Every part of the square is still covered in those bows of red ribbons with the black lacy overlay topped with an eyeball bead. They stare at you from every street lamp, bench, tree, and hydrant.

In the gazebo, there is a full piece band, and they’re ready to play any song that you choose. Alastor, remembering your request for ‘We Three’ by The Ink Spots, relays the message to them, and pulls you into a waltz.

The three of you are gliding simply, Ombre about your shoulders as usual, with just a simple box step over and over again and you let him lead, always will let him lead if he’ll let you follow.

Your gaze is locked on his as Ombre begins to murmur the words in your ear, singing the song with which you’re so familiar.

“We three, we're all alone

Living in a memory

My echo, my shadow, and me

We three, we're not a crowd

We're not even company

My echo, my shadow, and me.”

He pulls you into a dip and you sigh with a smile on your face, pleased to meet him nose to nose once more as you come back up again to continue the simple box step.

“What good is the moonlight

The silvery moonlight that shines above?

I walk with my shadow

I talk with my echo

But where is the one I love?

We three, we'll wait for you

Even till eternity

My echo, my shadow, and me.”

He leads you into a spin and you know it’s coming long before it begins. You know his steps before he takes them, and you’ve learned the way his body directs you. As Ombre’s voice speaks the words spoken in the song, you shiver and nearly swoon as Alastor pulls you close to spin you gently in a circle.

“‘We three, we're all alone. Seems like we're livin' in a memory.

That's my echo, my shadow, and me.

We three we ain't no crowd.

Fact is we ain't even company.

That's my echo, my shadow, and me.

You know I been wonderin'

what good is the moonlight

that silvery moonlight that shines way, way up above?

Yeah, I walk with my shadow, I talk with my echo, but where is that gal that I love?’”

The look in Alastor’s eyes tells you that the gal is right in front of him; it’s you, and your eyes are full of love and devotion. He starts you both in on a simple box step again as the song continues and Ombre starts to sing again,

“We three, we'll wait for you

Even till eternity

My echo, my shadow, and me.”

Alastor spins you once more, and then as you meet him, he kisses you fiercely. As you break apart, Alastor murmurs, “While that song reminds you of us, nostre fiancé, it reminds us of you.”

Then the clapping begins, and you notice the whole town plus all the guests Alastor had invited have all gathered around the edges of the dancefloor, waiting for you to finish. You flush at the attention and wave.

Alastor summons his microphone, and declares, “Thank you all for joining us for this momentous occasion. Due to unforeseen circumstances—”

“—that honestly should have been foreseen given the nature of how the two of us work—” You cut in, and Alastor chuckles then continues,

“—my dear Theia has already accepted my proposal.” A round of groans before he waves them down. “Now, now, before we get all upset, my dearest has already agreed to let me give the speech I had written and she will say yes again so as to not upset all of you who took the time to make your way out here tonight. We both sincerely apologize for ruining the surprise but are grateful you came to enjoy the party and the festivities nevertheless!”

When Alastor is done with his announcement, he pulls you into his arms for another searing kiss. In the distance is Charlie, Vaggie (with her new eye) standing beside the princess, Angel, Husk, Sir Pentious, and Niffty at their feet. You see Rana, a small gathering of imps, one of which you recognize, a hellhound, and not far from them, you think you might see your ‘uncle’ as well.

Alastor manifests a piece of paper, winks, then begins. “Long before I met you for the first time, Rosie talked about you constantly, talked about the strange woman with so many eyes and a penchant for eating them. When she insisted I come to meet you, that you’d become incredibly depressed, of course I came at her behest. I’d longed to meet you, intrigued by the woman she’d spoken so highly of on so many occasions.

“You fascinated me from the moment you introduced yourself, deliberately choosing an alias instead of your real name, and announcing it so distinctly as such. You were just as witty as I’d anticipated, and amusing to boot. Conversation with you was easy, despite your reluctance for it, and you spoke as if you knew of me, despite the fact that you’d claimed to never have purchased a radio. At least you hadn’t said you preferred TV.”

The crowd laughs as tinny canned audience laughter escapes from his microphone; he winks, and then continues, “When Rosie spoke of redemption, it wasn’t that you didn’t believe in such nonsense, in fact, you made it quite clear you believed it could be possible, but that it never could be for you. While one could assume this was because of the choices you’d made, from what little I understood of you from what Rosie had said, it seemed to me it was quite the other way around. Your actions were dictated because of the impossibility of your redemption, not in spite of it.

“Needless to say, I was entranced. You were an enigma wrapped inside a riddle, and I wanted to understand your secrets. Perhaps a little too eager, as Rosie knew as well as I that you had many you were refusing to share with the world, and as you came to the hotel, I was curious not just of what your secrets entailed, but who you were underneath that cool exterior and near-perpetual smile you chose to wear.

“When you told our Angel Dust in confidence that the smile you wore is something you’d picked up from watching me ‘all these years,’ I was stunned. We’d only just met, and yet you seemed to know so much more about me than I’d ever anticipated. I teased you about it, but you were quick on the uptake, and banter seemed to flow between us as if we’d known each other for decades.

“Calling you ‘dear’ and ‘darling’ started as a joke. Something to tease you about, ruffle your feathers. I liked to watch you flush, see your interesting reactions. Back then, I didn’t understand why. Now I can tell you it was because I had the first inclination of budding attraction in all my life or death.

“Our first date was truly on accident. I had wanted to impress you, take you to the fanciest restaurant here in Cannibal Town, but I’d forgotten that Tourniquet is known for being a place exclusively for couples.” The proprietors of Tourniquet whistle at being mentioned, and you give them small smiles as they do so. Alastor then continues, “Not only was our conversation interesting and the meal delicious, you continued to intrigue me when you pushed back against my insistence to pay for the meal and somehow coaxed me into agreeing to take you to see my radio tower and to another meal together, with the threat that if I refused, that you’d tell Rosie I’d taken you on a date.

“While technically true, I was trapped, caught with the realization that I’d done so on accident, but with the knowledge that I still wanted it to be one. When we made our way to Rosie’s afterwards, as had been the plan, she saw through us immediately, as to be expected.” Your eyes find Rosie in the crowd and she smirks. You giggle behind your hand as Alastor continues, “You kept your end of the promise you’d made even though you didn’t have to; no deal had been struck. I threw caution to the wind when I saw you debating over choices that required refrigeration. I wanted you closer to me, so I had Niffty move your things to the suite beside mine.

“On the way back, when you saw that knife in the window, I knew it met the criteria for exactly what I’d described. It was somehow perfect for you, as if it had been made with you in mind, despite its location in a random innocuous shop window. A knife, sheath, and belt all adorned with eyes of gold and silver—it had to belong to you. So I took you inside, and purchased it. Calling you ‘dearest’ was a slip of the tongue, but seeing the way you responded, it felt like I’d done something right.

“Then we went up to my radio tower, and somehow, it all fell apart. As part of our arrangement, I was allowed to ask you a question, and if you refused, I could choose another. I was greedy and curious, wanting to know about the powers you’d so eagerly kept to yourself as part of your deal with Vox, so of course that was my first question, which you immediately shot down. Then I asked you about what you’d been thinking about before you’d discovered the knife, and you turned sour when I asked you if you’d been thinking about kissing me.

“I didn’t mean for it to come out harsh and cruel, but as I’d told Rosie not an hour before, I was terrified at how I might respond if you showed real interest in me, had real interest in me. I wasn’t supposed to start finding you more interesting than your secrets, but you are quite funny when you want to be, and you expressed genuine interest in my work, and my mother, and even my choice of food, despite it being unpleasant or even unpalatable to others.

“You grew cold with me, bitter, and pulled away from my side, talking of how you should have known it had just been a ploy for you to reveal all your secrets, that it was a trap and you had nearly fallen inside it, going so far as to insinuate that Rosie might have had a hand in it herself.

“You told me I didn’t have to pretend to have interest in you to learn your secrets, that bringing something to the table as equal trade for a deal would have been sufficient, but I was too stunned to answer. It was then, in that moment, as you told me I didn’t have to pretend that I realized I wasn’t, and it was seemingly already too late. When you spoke of keeping your agreement with me, about sharing a meal and even taking the knife’s first victim in front of me, I grasped at them like they were the key to survival, already drafting versions of an apology in my head.

“The next evening, when you were so inebriated you could barely stand, waxing poetic and using so many puns I could barely discern your meaning, you found me of all people in that hallway, collapsed in my arms and I carried you to your room, had Niffty dress you, wrote you a letter, and told you how utterly captivated I am by you. Little did I know that you were fully aware of it the whole time, aware that I was apologizing to you as you lay unconscious, thinking you were asleep.

“I had Ombre look after you but only from a distance, as you’d been so careful to include them in your insistence for space, not knowing that they too, were hurting, perhaps even more so, as they’d known from the beginning that they were intrigued and fascinated by you, and I was the one slow on the uptake for once.”

Everyone chuckles, and he gives a sheepish smile as Ombre rumbles amusement as well, then he continues, “So when Ombre appeared on the awning above you as you left to go see your dear friend Rana and you encouraged me to appear, I did so, and you called me ‘Al’ again, like you’d done before. I didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, why you were suddenly alright with me, as if the events of two nights prior had never occurred, even as I called you Theia, respecting your boundaries and wishes, even as I saw that you winced when I did so. As you walked away, my thoughts were focused on continuing to draft that apology letter, revising and editing it over and over again in my mind.

“When the day you’d planned to make the meal we were to share together arrived and you’d told Niffty you needed an apron and oven mitts, I nearly broke at the thought of seeing you in one, all dolled up for me and serving me a meal.” He says sheepishly.

Angel calls out, “He fuckin’ bleated! Twice!”

The crowd laughs, and Alastor, a blush on his face, continues, “While we were on uncertain terms, I’d do anything to appease you, anything to give you what you wanted and needed, so when I saw you sit on the floor, I made my move, coaxed you to a chair, and went off in search of a very specific apron and oven mitt set, with trivets to match. I had it designed out of fabric I found, and was pleased it only took half a day to complete. Afterwards, I put on the suit I’d had my tailor perfect days prior, and prepared my room for our meal—our second date.

“I will never forget how you looked in that moment. You stole my attention and my breath in an instant. I have a detest for cameras, but then, in my room with you looking the perfect picture of a nineteen-thirties housewife, I wanted to capture your image to look upon at my whimsy, to never be rid of that wonderful display you’d chosen to make just for me. Then that dress, that little housedress changed before my very eyes into something stunning and elegant, and I thought once again that I’d lost my mind, even as you told me that I could call you those pet names that I so longed to call you again. I didn’t understand of course, but you said I could, and I would, had longed to call you them from the moment you’d told me to stop.

“Then I tasted the meal you prepared. The best meal I’ve ever eaten in my death. It reminded me of my mother, of the care in which she’d put into her meals, but it tasted like us, like a future we could have together. I didn’t understand why you were so easy and open and honest with me after our gross misunderstanding only two nights prior, but I accepted your explanation that I’d forgotten my rather embarrassing first draft of the note, riddled with little pet names and affections for you that I knew I had to leave out. You asked me about what my intentions were, and I was flummoxed, unable to answer.

“Just as I told you then, I had no idea what I wanted, was so focused on apologizing to you, on telling you that I just wanted you to no longer feel disdain for me, that I didn’t even conceive of the notion that you already had long moved on from forgiveness. The words you spoke, telling me that it was alright that I wasn’t sure what I wanted, that you’d let me have whatever I was willing to offer you no matter what that might be and at whatever pace that I wished nearly broke me again.

“When the meal was over, I gave you the candied eyes I’d bought, and you spoke words that hurt my heart at the very notion that you would think so lowly of yourself. I was determined to explain to you that if anyone else had said those words that I would gut them at your feet. Those words still hold true to this day. No one should ever say such things about you, ma très chère, least of all yourself. I must have made you uncomfortable, which upset me, but then you moved on to discussing how your first kill with that knife of yours would go, and I was fascinated when you told me you were aroused by the idea of killing someone in front of me. Of course I was fascinated. Arousal had never been something that enticed me, intrigued me, even as I yearned for you in ways I had never understood.

“So the next morning, after I’d escorted you to bed, you decided to be a little minx and turn on the radio. Of course I came to you, lured like a sailor to the rocks, and you coaxed me into breakfast after I coaxed you into dancing with me, and we spent the morning in the ballroom, dancing a lovely foxtrot to a song I’d never had the pleasure of dancing to while I was alive. Afterwards, I saw you off with a smile and affectionate kisses everywhere but your lips. I was starting to become acclimated to your touch, to touching you, and I have always been grateful that you allowed me to take things at my pace.

“When I came back to the hotel after tracking down your future prey, Niffty told me she found you in Angel’s room, and I didn’t even mean to, didn’t need to, but I found myself jealous. When you told me that it had just been to see his pet pig, that you’d been in there as his friend because of course you were. You are good to everyone around you—even to me—I grew bitter, furious, furious I no longer had a justified reason to be upset, and somehow, impossibly, you understood, spoke French to me, and broke me in an instant, broken for the first time of many.

“Yet even as you broke me, shattered me to pieces, you were careful with your precision to put me back together, carried the pieces of me that fell into your lap and took me to my room in the blink of your eyes. You let me hold you, communicate with you in a way you’d designed so that I didn’t have to speak, didn’t need words, and you curled into me in a way that just felt right. You told me about how your powers work, showed me how they work, told me that you saw how I took care of you that night when you were drunk, heard my apology and confession from my lips. I was shaken, to be sure, but pleased to know that you had heard it, for it had always been genuine. I encouraged you to tell me about how your deals work, since you’d been so eager to tease me with the notion before, and then you told me words that nearly broke me to this day.

“You told me that when you made a deal with me, that you’d mark me, leave me with a gold eye with a silver iris, that you’d put it under my chin, so that anyone who looked up to me would know that I was yours. I will always be yours, bien-aimée, but in that moment, right then and there, I knew I wanted to be yours. So of course I kissed you, my first kiss to anyone besides my own mother. It was awkward at first, but you seemed to understand what I wanted, and helped make it better, made it perfect, just like you.

“Not long after, on that rooftop in front of your prey, you told me your name, let me carve it into your victim, then unleashed your demon form and I almost broke a third time. I didn’t know how much better it could be with you, but seeing you in your true form, two stories tall and shrieking, hungry and out for blood, was the best spectacle I have ever witnessed. You are radiant, ma beauté monstrueuse, and I was entranced, captivated, and aroused for the very first time as I watched you watch me as you slayed that sinner. Of course I made love to you for the first time that night, soaked in your victim’s blood. You were perfect, are perfect.

“I wanted your mark on my skin, and jumped at the chance to have it when you said I had to keep your name a secret. Of course I did.” He intertwines his fingers with yours and the deal glows once more. “I wanted everything with you, would have it in a heartbeat, but Ombre insisted, they wanted to be a part of this too. How could I say no? They had known from the start that you were the one who would be perfect for us both. The least I could do was give you the ability to understand them too, even if no one else can understand them.

“The next morning, we ate breakfast together; you broke me again, put me back together, showed me what the rest of the hotel was up to, and coaxed me into inviting you to the Overlord meeting. We made a laughing stock of the Vees once more together, learned some valuable secrets, and discovered a flier seeking you in a way that had you in a panic. I took you back to our rooms, and you called it ‘home’. It broke me to see you like that, but it also felt like I was taking you home, taking you back to the place that the three of us shared.

“You left me with a note the next morning, and it scared me at first. I thought you’d left forever, that you’d decided that this wasn’t enough, and I nearly screamed. You can never leave me, Theia. The deal we made prevents that, but in that moment, I was terrified, terrified you’d changed your mind, terrified that flier had sent you packing, running. Ombre, for that is what you named them, reassured me that you would return, that you had simply woken before I’d arisen and that you were participating in the day’s activities.

“When you returned to the hotel, I could tell that something was plaguing your mind, that you felt like something was weighing on your heart, but Niffty, our dear sweet Niffty, had decided that Boring Closet Stuff was to be explored. You seemed eager to have something distract you, and I was pleased to be in close proximity to you, even as I saw the new eye on your skin as soon as I’d set mine on you. I didn’t mention it, thought it best to wait, as Niffty led us into the mysterious room and all the fascinating objects inside. I collected that book that fell from the trap door and into the tunnel to the side, and I could never have known then how valuable it would become.

“We sat and shared time with Niffty in her little Hidey Hole, and you were eager to explain that you’d made a deal with me when Niffty asked about the eye underneath my chin. When she’d assumed we’d gotten married and you’d said it was more of a promise and she’d said it was like a proposal, I reassured her that it would be far more grand.” He looks up from the paper and into your eyes for a moment. “It was then that I had already started planning this evening.” Then he returns to his script, this love letter he drafted to you to read aloud to all of Hell.

“That night, you told me who you are, how you came to be Theia, the one who eats the eyes of her enemies, the one who takes charge and steals the gaze of anyone who sees her in an instant. You told me of the filth of a man who you rightfully removed from life after what you discovered he’d done to your friend, and you did it so creatively, I might add. I understand why you did what you did, Theia. I removed filth from the streets myself when I was alive. You told me of the curse that plagues you, and we vowed to remove it, even as we hadn’t yet discovered that it truly is a curse. The three of us made love for the first time that night: Ombre, you, and myself, and while you slept, Ombre and I poured over the book we’d discovered.

“We knew your whole story, the story you hadn’t shared, but perhaps you were unable to let your lips form the words, scared to say your family’s history. We were going to tell you what we found when you awoke, but a terrifying nightmare had you rising far earlier than anticipated. When you told me that it wasn’t a nightmare, that you see the true events that take place in Hell and gave me a perfect example of an event I already was aware of, I held you as you made sure that our Angel Dust was safe, that he and Husk were alright, together and happy. I reminded you that no matter what happened you were not to blame for the actions taken by another, and certainly not one as horrific as Valentino.”

Your perfect vision around you refuses to deny you the look of shock and what you pray isn’t pity on Angel’s face. Husk takes and squeezes one of his hands. I’m glad one good thing came out of that horrible night, you decide as Alastor continues. “We coaxed you back to sleep, and in the morning, your dear friend Rana was eager to call you. We had a lovely talk, and we joined her and Rosie for tea. You had a surprise visitor, that with your impeccable eyesight, you saw before any of the rest of us did. Ombre and I would have lost it if it weren’t for Rosie and Rana. You terrified us, disappearing without a word like that. When you returned, we were so grateful, so joyful to know that you were alright. You spoke of a family member you hadn’t seen in years but were happy to be reunited with, and we were pleased to know that not all of your family was terrible, that you had someone in your life who treated you with respect.

“Afterwards, we discussed what I found in the book, about your curse, about the angel that performed it, about Boring Closet Stuff again, and about the possibility that you could be pregnant. You were panicked, crazed, dazed, and furious. You threw caution to the wind and announced that you would tear Valentino apart for what he’d done to Angel, and that you wanted me to watch you do it. Of course I said yes, as long as I was there to keep you safe, could watch the show. What a show indeed. You never cease to impress. It’ll be days before he respawns but when he does, I look forward to watching you do it all over again.

“That time we made love it was the most ravenous, primal, needy, and desperate I have ever been. I will never forget it and hope to do it again sometime, but not in your current condition.” Both his and Ombre’s hands move to your abdomen in unison, and you let them, placing your hand, your left, the one with the engagement ring, on top of both of theirs. “When Lucifer arrived at Charlie’s discretion, I made sure to keep your distance from him for as long as I could manage, knowing that you feared that if he saw you, he’d insist that you leave the hotel and never return.” Charlie’s face looks shocked and upset. Alastor doesn’t notice as he continues, “I wanted to distract you with killing the loan sharks, and while it was fun, it set you up to be seen by him as we returned. So the time came for us to sit down with The King of Hell about why you were here, about what could be done.

“I would never, will never allow anyone, not even Lucifer himself take you away from us, Theia. You are ours and we will never let you go. When you made that deal with Lucifer to protect the hotel to the best of your capacity, none of us knew you were pregnant, and much less with twins. Lucifer saw the twin souls in you, and I knew, in that moment, that the three of us were to be parents for sure.

“It was upsetting, to see you so terrified of motherhood, but after you allowed yourself to relax, I was grateful to know that you were reassured by Ombre and my abilities to father and rear our children at your side.” He lets the notes disappear back into his shadows, pulls you close, and looks into your eyes as he holds the microphone with one hand and, with his arm wrapped around yours, his other on your belly. “This morning, when you killed the sinner who started Theia’s whole story, you jumped into my arms, told me that you love me so impossibly much and then jokingly asked me to marry you.

“It was a challenge, and you know how I like those. I couldn’t let you just get away with saying that. I had a ring burning a hole in my pocket, even as I knew that Rosie was making sure the town was putting the finishing touches on this little event, even as I knew that all of our friends would be in attendance. So I fished out the ring box and proposed at your feet next to the corpse. I called you by your name, the name given to you at birth, and I asked you for your hand in marriage.

“Now, I will do the same, but I will say the name you chose, the name that matters far more to me because it is yours. Theia,” He says as he drops down to one knee again, simply for the sake of formality, “nostre reine, will you give me the pleasure, the honor, and the blessing of being my wife?”

Tears prick your eyes you didn’t know were coming, for even as you stood and listened to all of these words that he’s been speaking, you never expected your reaction to be like this. “YES!” You declare with a yell as you lean into the microphone, and he kisses the ring already on your finger.

The applause begins as a quiet thudding and escalates into a roar, loud yells and cheers and people jumping. Everyone is thrilled, and so are you. You see everyone deeply moved and overjoyed at the beautiful speech he delivered. When he takes a bow, you hear a click as the broadcast ends, and you smile through the tears that threaten to fall.

One by one, your friends approach you. Rosie first, as hostess, pulls you into a gentle hug, whispering, “Congratulations, dearie. I look forward to the wedding.” You kiss her cheek.

“Thank you, Auntie Rosie.” You give her a delighted smile.

Charlie is next, Vaggie beside her, and after Charlie almost picks you up and swings you around, a look from Alastor makes her change her mind. She sets you back down gently, and Vaggie offers you a hug, her arms open. You take it, smiling back at her.

It is a short embrace, and when it is over, she steps away from you. “Congratulations Theia!” Charlie declares excitedly. “When you’re ready, come to me and we’ll start planning your wedding! I already have a few ideas!”

“She has filled pages and pages of a notebook already.” Vaggie says, amused.

You look to Alastor. “Didn’t you tell her just yesterday that you were going to propose?”

“No, nostre reine. This morning, actually, mere hours before you awoke.” He says, amusement in his eyes.

“So much already, why that doesn’t surprise me, Charlie; you’re always full of ideas!” You say easily, a little intimidated by how enthusiastic she is about the idea of planning your wedding.

Vaggie, sensing your unease, coaxes Charlie away, and Niffty runs up next. “When I said we’d talk later, Theia, I didn’t think it would be at your proposal party!” She giggles as Ombre makes room for her to crawl up and sit on your shoulder. She gives you a hug. “Congratulations!” She says and leans over to give Alastor a hug too, who looks surprised but pleased. “I expect to be a part of the wedding. One of the bridesmaids, maybe.” She thinks for a moment as she kicks her legs. “While I’m small enough in stature to be the flower girl, I’d really rather not.” She says with a chortle, and you chuckle along with her.

“That’s understandable, Niff.” You say easily, and she gives you both another hug.

“I’m going to go see if Rosie needs any bugs killed! I’ll see you later!” She declares as she scurries off elsewhere.

Sir Pentious comes up to you both next.

“I don’t see why I’m always last to find out about these things.” Sir Pentious declares, irritated. “It appears the entire hotel knew you prefer to be called Theia despite The King calling you ‘Iris’ and that you’re pregnant except me?!”

“Sorry, Pen, these things happen sometimes.” You say sadly, feeling a little bad that you hadn’t managed to talk to him yet but glad he’d been able to make it anyway. “I’m glad you came, though, and I’ll be sure to spend more time with you soon.”

“Coming from anyone else that would be doubtful, but as it is you, I anticipate many talks with you in the future, Theia!” He says excitedly, and you smile as he slithers off into the crowd.

Angel and Husk walk up next. You delight in seeing them still holding hands from earlier. Angel drops the hand to pull you into a four-armed hug, but makes sure to hold you loosely and above the waist. “Congrats, Occhi!” He exclaims, and you wrap your arms around him.

When he steps away, Husk pulls you into a hug, the first of its kind. You smile into his fur and wrap your arms around him too. He’s soft, far softer than you’d anticipated. He smells like family. “Congrats, kid.” He says affectionately, and pats you on the head. You chuckle. He turns to Alastor. “Congratulations, Sir. May she be good to you.”

“You’re too kind, dear Husker.” Alastor says with a knowing smile, and you frown at them both.

“Alastor, don’t put words in Husk’s mouth. He does enough for you already.” You pinch him on the ass, determined to prove a point. He bleats, his ears pinned back against his head.

Angel barks out a surprised laugh. “Do it again, Occhi!” He chortles, and you shake your head.

“Once was enough.” You say easily, then kiss Alastor on the lips gently. “Be good to your souls, Al. You know what happens to bad boys who don’t play well with their toys.” You say with a teasing smirk. “Though I would never cut you up, of course. I’d just deny you sex. After all, if you want me to find other ways to teach you a lesson, all you have to do is be good.”

“Kinky!” Angel says with a smirk, and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t you have elsewhere to be, Ange?” He laughs, but takes the hint.

“See you later, Occhi.” He waves, takes Husks hand, and leads him away.

“Later, kid.” Husk says with a wave of his own, his eyes never leaving Angel’s delighted face.

You don’t have much time to pay attention to how cute their new love is before Rana, Blitzø, a pair of imps you don’t recognize, and a hellhound step forward to see you. Rana pulls you into a fierce hug before she steps back to introduce everyone. “You already know Blitzø, of course, but the rest of the gang you haven’t met yet. This is Moxie and Millie, the other two members of I.M.P., and this is Loona. She works there too.”

“She’s also my daughter!” Blitzø supplies, and Loona groans and pulls out her phone. You giggle. Teenagers these days, always staring at their phones. “Where did—he was just here a fuckin’ minute ago.” You suspect you know who he’s talking about but don’t comment.

“Pleased to meet you, Theia!” Moxie says with a soft bow.

Millie smirks, “Charmed, I’m sure. Rana’s told us all about ya.”

You laugh and offer your hand for them to shake, much to their surprise. “A pleasure to meet the both of you. When we’re not so busy, I actually have a task for I.M.P. No murder this time, unless that comes as a side benefit. I have a package I need delivered, and I’ll need it delivered to someone on Earth. I hear you’d be the ones to speak to about such matters. I’ll pay extra, of course.”

Blitzø brightens at the idea of more money. “We’ll talk later.” He says, and then looks around again. “Where the fuck did he go? He was so goddamn determined to be here, and now he doesn’t even bother to show when we finally get a fuckin’ chance to talk with the newly-engaged couple? He fuckin’ loves this sappy ass shit.”

You see your ‘uncle’ in the distance, see him hold a single finger up to the hood of the cloak he wears, and you understand, keep your head level. You’re not sure why he’s insisting on being stealthy, hiding from everyone, but he is.

“Maybe he went to get some refreshments.” You suggest as a means of distraction, and everyone takes it easily.

“I could go for some food.” Rana says, understanding your desire to get them to peel off on their own. Blizø follows behind, bitching the whole way; Loona stares at her phone as she leaves, muttering a half-hearted ‘congrats,’ and Moxie and Millie give their congratulations before they take up the rear.

After they are long out of earshot, your ‘uncle’ walks up to you gracefully. Keeping the hood up, he opens his arms, and you run and jump into his embrace. “Uncle Noctua!” You exclaim. “You came! How did you even know this was happening?”

“Word got around, as it always does, little nebula. Why you insist on calling me ‘uncle’ I’ll never understand, Iris. I’m only six years older than you.”

You laugh, resting your head against his chest. “You’re so much taller than me, silly. Besides, you’ll always be an old man in my eyes. You’ll live to see the end of time itself.”

“Don’t say such devastating things, little nebula. You’ll see it too, someday. Now that the book has been uncovered we can begin the task of breaking the curse.” He says easily, and lifts your chin to look into your eyes. “You’ve done so well so far. There’s not much more, I’m sure of it.” His gaze turns to Alastor then. “Now, Iris, introduce me to the man who has captured your heart.”

“Alastor, I give you permission to call me in front of Prince Stolas, son of King Paiman, Lucifer’s most loyal. Noctua, I’d like to introduce you to the man I have chosen as my better half. This is Alastor, The Radio Demon, and his shadow, Ombre. They are two sides of the same man, and the two halves of my better half.” You say, and Alastor smiles, offering his hand to shake as you step back into Alastor’s embrace.

“Iris, or Theia as she prefers to be called these days, has told me about you, your highness.” Alastor says with his ever-permanent smile, but it’s genuine, his words sincere. It is rare that he speaks to someone with more power than him with respect and decency, you suspect. “She speaks kind words about how you are the only family she considers truly hers. Thank you for showing her how family ought to treat her, so she has someone to think of how she’ll want our future family to be treated.”

“While Theia has not told me about you to the same extent, I know that she has chosen the right one for her, for only a man who knows her secrets, knows her story, knows her royal lineage and chooses to see past that could possibly live up to the standards set by both her and myself for what we hope to attain.”

You interject, curious. “Do you believe you’ve found that with Blitzø?”

“I think I have, little nebula, though there are times when I wonder about things.” He says with a sigh, and you see worry in his eyes.

“Time will tell, Noctua. I suspect it will all work out in the end, even if it’s a bit of a rough start. He was looking for you earlier. He cares about you, even if he has difficulty showing it. I’m familiar with these sorts of things.” You say as you squeeze Alastor’s hand. He squeezes yours back.

“I should be leaving now, little Nebula.” Stolas says, and you give him a sad smile.

“Are you still coming by the hotel tomorrow?” You ask earnestly, hoping to see him again.

“Absolutely. There is, I’m afraid, quite a lot to discuss. I hadn’t planned on coming tonight, but when dear Rana mentioned that your engagement party was tonight, I couldn’t stay away.” He opens up his arms again, and you leap into them once more. “Good night, little Nebula. Congratulations on your engagement, and I will see you soon.” He kisses you on the forehead, and you wave goodbye as you step once again back into Alastor’s embrace.

“Goodbye, ‘Uncle’ Noctua!” You call with a tease, and he laughs, his laugh echoing into the darkness as he retreats.

“He truly is a good one, Iris darling.” Alastor murmurs into your ear. “I’m glad you had someone as kind as him in your life growing up.”

“I am too.” You sigh into his ear as he pulls you close.

As the band strikes up something lively, Alastor asks with a bow, “May I have this dance, mon fiancé?”

“With you? Always.” You reply with a curtsy, and he pulls you into his arms to lead you in the complicated footwork required for the dance at hand.

It’s simple; it’s expected, and it’s soothing. This is a dance for lovers, and a dance for just the three of you, even as others partake beside you on the dancefloor. You finish the night with more dancing and refreshments, wrapped in his embrace.

It is so wonderful to have a night as quiet as this one, you think to yourself, I hope many more are just as enjoyable, just as calm.

Several dances and conversations later, everyone says their goodbyes to you and heads out into the night. Soon, it’s just Alastor, Ombre, Rosie, and yourself. It is dark. The streetlights have all come on to illuminate Cannibal Town in their glow. The square is empty, save for the beautiful wrappings on every tree, streetlamp, bench, wreath, and gazebo. It’s cool, and the air is impossibly still.

“Well, dears, the guest room is available for the night should you choose to stay.” She winks. “I changed the sheets already, so feel free to get a good night’s rest.”

You flush, realizing that she knows about your earlier escapades. “Thanks, Rosie.” You reply as you try to calm your breathing. As she walks away, your hairpin slips from your bun. As it clatters to the ground, you bend down to pick it up, and accidentally pierce your finger. The blood drips onto the pin and a few fall on the ground, soaking into the dirt.

“So thoughtful as always, Rosie dear.” Alastor replies, not noticing your little mistake. “We’ll gladly take you up on spending the evening in your guest room. It’s been quite a long evening and I’m sure Theia is exhausted.” You pick up the pin with your uninjured hand. A yawn escapes you before you realize it, and Ombre chuckles. Alastor kisses your forehead. As blood drips from your fingers, they remain unaware. “Right on cue. Let’s get you into bed, hmm?”

You nod, and he uses his shadows to materialize into the guest room again. Blood drips onto the carpet. Alastor’s eyes dilate as his nose catches the scent of your fresh blood. “Bien-aimée, have you injured yourself?” He lifts your hand to inspect it, sucks the finger into his mouth.

“I pricked myself on my own hairpin by mistake.” You say with an embarrassed laugh. “I’m just so tired.”

He tsks and you let yourself be chided. “Ma très chère, you must take better care of yourself.”

“At least I have the two of you to take care of me.” You murmur, then realize where you are. “You know,” you say in between yawns as he closes the wound with his tongue. If I weren’t so tired this might have started something, you think with a shiver, “we just as easily could have gone home. The effort to materialize here versus there is virtually nothing. I of all people would know.”

“Yes, ma très chère, but it would be rude to have said ‘no’.” He says with a kiss to your finger and then your forehead. “Now are you awake enough to dress yourself, or shall I do it for you, bien-aimée?”

“In what, Al?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you going to send Ombre for my nightdress?”

He chuckles, and manifests a wrapped present. “The first of many gifts, mon fiancé.” He says as he hands it to you.

You sit on the bed and inspect it. It’s not very large, clearly a garment box, wrapped in gorgeous red paper and an equally stunning black bow to match. There is elegant threading work on each. You take the time to undo the bow carefully and open the wrapping so as to keep it intact and avoid reopening the wound on your finger.

He chuckles, bemused, as he sits beside you, watches your careful and deliberate motions.

Finally, the wrapping falls open and you lift the lid. Under tissue paper, you find sheer red lace. As you pull it out of the box, you find a bra, panties, garter belt, stockings, and a robe to match, all in a stunning red and black. “You don’t have to wear it all to bed, of course,” he says with a nip at that mark on your neck, “but just know that you’d look ravishing in them.”

You shiver at the thought and Ombre pools onto the bed from your shoulders as you tug at the collar of your dress. It splits open, and you find yourself doing a sort of reverse strip tease as you stand, sliding off your plain white panties to slip the sheer red ones up and over your hips, followed by the stockings, one foot and then the other. Next is the bra, up and around your breasts then over your shoulders. Lastly, you take the robe, slide it over one arm and then the other, and lastly, cinch it at the waist with the belt.

Ombre practically leaps against you and you laugh as you wrap your arms around them, collapsing onto the bed with them next to Alastor, who pulls you tight against him with fierce kisses to your face as Ombre nips at your neck.

You laugh freely, pulling them each into a kiss one after the other and again, then Alastor slips down your torso to untie the robe. You laugh harder as he does so. “Was the point of wearing this just so you could take it off me? Otherwise I don’t see much point in wearing it in the first place.” You stifle a yawn, and he kisses your forehead.

“We shall have to save divesting you of these delightful garments until the morning, bien-aimée, for we really ought to let nostre fiancé get her beauty rest.”

You yawn again and slip under the covers as Ombre curls into your side. Alastor settles on top of the covers in his suit and you raise an eyebrow. “Surely you’re not going to lay there and fall asleep on top of the covers, Al.”

“I don’t need to sleep, ma très chère.” He says with a half a shrug as he lays down on his side to stroke a hand through your hair.

“No, but you indulge sometimes, or is that just after we’ve made love?” You say with a raised eyebrow. “Will you indulge for me, mon fiancé?”

He sighs, but you can tell by the sparkle in his eyes that his smile is still genuine. With a snap of his fingers, he is naked save his boxers. His suit jacket and pants hang over a chair, his boots at their feet. His shirt is neatly folded on the seat. You pull back the covers and he slides underneath them, wrapping his body and legs around you as he pulls you flush against him. He nips at your neck and you whine, then yawn again.

With his hot breath on your neck, you relax as the two begin to snore in purrs and static. You find yourself drifting into slumber.

At first, all is still. It is a boring dream, you curled into the embraces of your lovers, your fiancés, the two halves of your better half, in Rosie’s guest room. You roll over to stretch your fingers, and as you do, the wound re-opens and a single drop of blood falls onto the sheet before it heals completely.

In an instant, a towering figure that nearly touches the ceiling appears at the far end of the room. As he walks towards you, recognition hits your features. It is your father, looking far older than the last time you saw him, but of course, sixteen years have passed. He grunts and glares, but says nothing as he shoves Alatstor aside and rips Ombre from you. As he lifts you from the bed and into his arms, he catches sight of the ring on your finger and you see his jaw tighten, gritting his teeth. His four eyes darken as he snatches it from your finger and sends it into his void.

You are furious but motionless as you lay limp in his grip, his clutches, and he disappears in a flash, a blink. The room shifts to the one that has felt like a jail cell ever since you were small. If you could shiver in fear, you would, but you are limp, motionless other than your calm, even breathing.

As your brain emerges from the dream, you whimper out, terrified by the images you’d seen, “Al?” Hearing no answer, you blink your eyes open and let out a scream.

You remember that you don’t dream.

You’re alone. Your father snatched you in the night.

This is your childhood bedroom.

He took your engagement ring.

Just as soon as I get my ring back, I’m out of here, and I’m never returning again. He can keep his castle, his throne, his perfect son as his perfect king. I want nothing to do with any of them. I just want my peace, my husbands, and my children.

May Prince Seere rot in his little hole in his pathetic corner of Hell.

A/N:

Is this a better cliffhanger, or worse? cackles

In all seriousness, I have two and a half chapters left for y'all. You can have them, and then after if you want, I can tell you how the rest of the story was intended to go, as I've devoted myself to writing an entirely different story.

So in a surprising but welcome turn of events, I have fallen in love with a clown and created a circus with them.

Theia--Hellaverse Theia, that is--is a sweet child who I adore, but she isn't the same as my new favorite Theia.

Theia, The One Who Sees, is a fortuneteller gifted with The Sight. Her arms are littered with tattoos, one for each year of her life. She is cursed to have only a hundred years, has known this since she was seven. Her nanny took her to the circus to comfort her, and there she met the ringmaster she would focus on to get her through the next eighty-seven years of her life.

At such a young age, she has access to none of her powers until thirteen, when the entire world appears to her, is able to see everything everywhere all at once except for that small circus she longs to view once more. Trapped by her parents and forced to live in cramped, horrific conditions, she focuses on the music from the circus and the memories she has of that one magical night to keep her comfort, along with her addiction to peppermint candies she discovers she has.

This ringmaster, who would eventually take the name Peppermint Patches, realized his life's calling when he saw a young girl with eye tattoos terrified to go home. He devotes it to seeking her and all other children who are terrified to return to the place that should be comfort to him. In the years that follow, he forms a circus that is his family, and while he blames himself for never finding the girl with the eyes once more, fate and The Sight have other plans.

They meet once more as adults, and The Sight shows them the promise of a future completely and utterly devoted to each other. Her tentacles, The Ones That See, have known he was the one from the moment they awakened along with The Sight.

See them and all the rest of their magnificent circus in

The All-Seeing Circus!

First || Chapter 39 || Chapter 41

#the demon of a thousand eyes #hazbin hotel fanfiction #theia #demon of a thousand eyes #hazbin hotel oc #alastor x reader #eye #eyes #eye puns #eye puns as a coping mechanism

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afterdarkprincess · 6 months

Text

Mine

Pairing: Seth Rollins/Dean Ambrose Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2083 AO3 Link Look at that a finished WIP! This one is just pure unadulterated filth, enjoy at your own discretion 18+ only!!

tag squad: @feelschicken @elementaldoughnut12 @jeysbvck @southerngirl41 @harmshake @imabillyami

This fic is Explicit and contains: Rough Sex, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Fingering, Spit as Lube, Hair Pulling, Slut Shaming, Toxic Relationship (full list on AO3)

----

Seth’s lounging in his personal dressing room backstage, scrolling through his twitter feed, eating up the reactions to his appearance at the end of Smackdown tonight.

He’s still in the tight red leather pants, his legs kicked up on the edge of the couch when there comes a loud demanding knock at the door.

“Go away asshole!” He yells distractedly over his shoulder, uncaring for whoever might be trying to disturb his peace at this time of night. Anybody he gives a shit about has already headed out, and he’s not far behind himself.

The knocks stop and Seth thinks he’s in the clear, but the door busts open with a loud bang, and Seth’s on his feet ready for a fight until he gets a good look at the figure standing in the doorway.

Dean Ambrose, eyes wild and angry and staring holes into Seth’s face.

Seth’s heartbeat roars in his ears as a tidal wave of emotion rolls over him. Excitement, relief, guilt, love, anger from all the years of their tumultuous relationship. Seth will never be free of Dean Ambrose and if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t really want to be.

“Dean…” Seth barely breathes his name before he’s storming into the room, slamming the door shut before his hands are at Seth’s throat, pushing him back against the wall roughly.

The sound that escapes his throat is breathy and pathetic, Seth would be ashamed of himself if not for the growing pressure against his windpipe that mirrors the swell of his dick in his pants.

“The fuck you think you’ve been doin’ huh pretty boy?” His breath is hot against Seth’s cheek, and lingering smell of cigarette smoke clouds his senses. “You forget who you belong to? You think I wouldn’t notice you’ve been whoring around?”

Seth shakes his head as best he can with Dean’s hands restricting his movement. “N-no, no-“

“Liar,” Dean licks the sweat from Seth’s brow. “Partnering with Cody Rhodes, runnin’ around actin’ like his little bitch, like you won’t turn on him the second it’s convenient for you.”

“Dean, please-“ He’s fully hard and aching and unsure what he’s even begging for at this point.

His free hand grabs at Seth’s face, roughly squeezing his cheeks. “Doesn’t Rhodes know by now that sluts like you are only good for a warm hole to fuck? How many times have you taken his cock princess?”

Seth’s instinct is to lie and deny everything, but no way that Dean wouldn’t know, and the punishment for lying would be brutal. The three small scars on his ribs, perfect circles the size of a Marlboro serve as a reminder of what good it does lying to Dean Ambrose.

“Ahh, Twice…just twice,” His vision is getting fuzzy and it hurts to speak, and he gasps loudly as finally Dean releases his iron hold on Seth’s throat.

His relief does not last long though.

The hand that had been clutching his throat moves south quickly, tearing at the waistband of his leather pants until they’re down around his knees, freeing his achingly hard dick but keeping him from any kind of escape he might attempt. As if he’d even try.

Satisfied with his work, Dean’s fingers find his hole with expert precision and press inside unforgivingly, wringing a pained moan out of Seth.

It’s the kind of pain Dean knows he craves, the same burning ache that settles into his muscles after a 30 minute match, the kind of pain that leaves him sore but satisfied the next day.

“Tight as usual,” Seth can feel the deep growl of Dean’s voice. “Not surprised, I’ve heard all about that pathetic cock of Cody’s. Figures that you’re such a filthy slut you’ll take any dick you can get. He couldn’t satisfy you, could he sweetheart? I bet you couldn’t even feel that tiny cock inside you, but you moaned like a 2 dollar whore anyway to make him feel good about himself.”

The sting of the truth of Dean’s words hurts more than the fingers roughly exploring his ass.

One grazes against his prostate and Seth cries at how dirty wrong good it feels, his cock weeping precum despite being neglected thus far.

“Please,” he weeps, hair falling into his face and sticking to the salty damp tear tracks. “Oh god, please-“

A third finger works its way inside him.

“You wanna hear a little story? I saw your boy on the way in here.” As the fingers in his ass flex and stretch, Dean’s other hand wraps into the hair at the base of his neck. “You may have got between him and the Big Dog earlier, but we both know Roman doesn’t have the imagination that I do. Gonna be a little difficult for him to finish the story now, but we both know you never gave a fuck about that.”

The continued assault on his prostate has him dangerously close to the edge despite himself, his breath coming in harsh pants as his thoughts fill with all the terrible things Dean could have done to his tag partner. He shuts his eyes tightly, banishing the thoughts of Cody covered in blood from his mind and focuses on the sensations wracking through his body, chasing pleasure and release.

With no warning his hole is empty and his hair is pulled. Seth gasps, disoriented and clenching down on nothing.

He’s shoved unceremoniously over the back of the couch he’d been lounging on earlier, bare ass exposed with his pants now fallen around his ankles. Dean’s fingers never leave Seth’s curls as he circles around, loudly unbuckling his belt and freeing his angry red cock. He’s close enough to Seth’s face that the sticky head smacks him in the cheek.

“You like that? Been a while since you’ve seen a real cock.” Dean guides his dick with one hand to smear precum on Seth’s lips like lipgloss. “You know what to do, your spit’s the only lube you're getting so you better do a good job.”

Seth opens his mouth and latches onto the head of Dean’s cock, suckling it for a moment before taking it further onto his tongue. He can’t help but moan at the unique taste of Dean that fills his senses as he moves his tongue along the prominent vein.

He believes Dean that this will be the only lube he’ll get, so he makes an effort to drool all along the thick length. The grip in his hair tightens, pulling Seth further down with no warning, and he has no choice but to take Dean’s dick into his throat, eyes burning with tears.

Just as his throat begins to relax and adjust to the intrusion there’s a knock at the door.

“Ey Uce! You need a ride outta here, or what?” Jey Uso’s voice comes through the door and Dean rolls his eyes before pulling Seth off his dick.

Seth coughs and sputters before answering, “Nah, M’good man. Go- Go on without me.” He tries to keep his voice even and neutral despite the adrenaline running through him.

“You sure?” Of course he won’t let it be. Jey’s too nice for that.

“Yeah, I’ll catch ya later, uce.” Dean makes a face. Seth prays that it’s enough and that Jey won’t pry further.

There’s no sound for a moment, like Jey’s hesitating for some reason, until finally, “Alrigh’, if you sure. M’gonna go find Cody then. Later, Uce.”

Seth breathes a sigh of relief, but it doesn’t last long. Dean steps away from his face, keeping a tight grip in Seth’s hair, tugging painfully as he moves around the couch. His free hand moves down Seth’s waist and rubs at his exposed ass before giving it a sharp smack.

“Excellent job, princess. Shame all your slobber dried up during your performance.” Dean spits on his hole. “Don’t say I never did anythin’ for ya.”

It’s degrading and humiliating, but fuck if Seth doesn’t nearly cum at the wet feeling of Dean’s spit on his already aching hole.

Then he’s split open as Dean shoves his dick inside in one go, his hips smacking the swell of Seth’s cheeks. He howls as Dean grinds against him, rubbing Seth’s prostate in a delicious mix of pleasure and pain.

He’s open and raw, a ripe oyster cracked open for Dean’s pleasure, ready to be slurped up, devoured and savored. All thought leaves his mind as Dean pulls out and thrusts back in sharply, setting a punishing pace.

Dean’s tongue laves at the tattoo on his spine, biting and nipping at the meat of his back, hard enough to hurt but not bleed. He’s still holding onto Seth’s hair, using it as leverage as he pounds into him, while the other hand finds its way to Seth’s chest, pinching and tugging at his nipples.

Seth’s so close already, the tension in his stomach like a hot coil ready to burst. He unclenches his hand from the back of the couch, stiff from the death grip he’s been holding and tries to reach down towards his cock.

SMACK

He jumps from the shock of the stinging pain on his ass, and Dean’s fingers wrap around the hand he was going to use to try and come, yanking and twisting his arm painfully behind his back.

“You’ll come from my cock or not at all,” Dean growls.

Seth feels tears leaking from his eyes in frustration. Dean’s dick is hitting his prostate like a bullseye at each thrust, and it’s so much but not quite enough to send him shattering apart.

Dean yanks harder on his hair, his back bowing even further and his head twisting to one side at the angle, exposing one side of his throat. Then he’s there, his breath hot against the delicate skin of Seth’s throat.

“Is this what you thought about when Cody fucked you? Closed your eyes and pretended it was me filling you up right?”

Seth nods as best he can, whines escaping his lips with each breath in lieu of words.

“Well don’t worry, I’m here now baby. Gonna remind you,” Dean’s lips meet his skin. “Ro,” Another kiss. “Cody,” Another. “The whole locker room.” A quick dart of his tongue. “Fuck, the whole world, who you belong to.”

“Yours, yours, D-dean, fuck please-“ He’s babbling now more than anything else.

“Thats right, you’re mine.” It’s punctuated with a sharp bite to his earlobe at the end of another vicious unforgiving thrust, and Seth can only hold on as he hurtles over the edge.

He shoots his cum all over the back of the couch, shaking as his orgasm wracks through his body. Dean buries his cock inside him a few more times before shooting his own seed deep inside of Seth’s hole, adding to the sensations that wrack his body and marking him further.

Seth breathes hard as Dean finally pulls out, leaving him shaking and empty. Dean chuckles behind him as he tries to stand. “No wonder it was an easy slide,” He gestures to the streaks of blood that stain his softening cock.

His hole clenches painfully, he’s certainly going to be feeling this for days, but at least he’s gotten off easier than Cody. He makes it to standing, but his knees buckle beneath him, and he can’t even bring himself to try to catch his fall.

He’s accepting that he’s about to faceplant when Dean’s arms wrap around him, saving him from the impact and scooping him up. Seth grabs onto Dean’s neck to stabilize himself, but finds himself paralyzed by the way Dean’s looking at him.

Gone is the anger and fury that he saw earlier, that fed his rough treatment of Seth, replaced by a somewhat bashful look, as if he’s embarrassed now of his earlier behavior.

“You uhhh, good there?” Awkward as ever when it comes to communicating outside of the heat of the moment. Seth feels his chest swell with fondness, their bond may be absolutely bat shit crazy, but no one gets him like Dean and no one gets Dean like him.

He nods, grinning. “Yeah, M’good now-I got my big strong guy to keep me going.”

“Damn right! What you say we get outta here? Got a hotel room with a fluffy robe that’s got your name all over it sweetheart.”

Seth rolls his eyes, but doesn’t have any room to argue considering his current predicament. “Yeah, let’s get outta here.”

--- Thank you for reading!!! 💖💖

#ambrollins #dean ambrose #seth rollins #jon moxley #dean ambrose/seth rollins #dean ambrose x seth rollins #jon moxley/seth rollins #wwe fanfiction #wwe smut

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