#who felt himself tainted and carried the sins of what happened

[uxianger]

[[ hands you my aymeric alt (who is, unmodded, a femroe.

best of BOTH worlds.) ]]

[azullumi]

“under the burning hill” ; aventurine

premise — you say you know him, what will he choose?

tags — angst, with comfort if you squint, mentions of death, a lot of metaphors, spoilers to his backstory, i seriously don’t know how to tag this one, not proofread, 0.9k words; ficlet

tagging — @toorurs

note — i once cried to those tiktok slideshows that are like “if you really know your mother/self/father/sister/brother, what will they choose?” and then this fic happened. this is NOT my celebration fic for getting him, i have different one in my drafts

you say you know aventurine, what is he choosing?

a chance to be with his family again

he dreamt of flowers and gardens, of empty fields and large floating clouds, of tears and warmth, and he knelt into the dream where he felt the warmth of his sister’s hug and the soothing melody of his mother’s song. he buries his corpse who knew his father’s voice and how he would hold his child. in his dreams, he is good and he is loved.

he had nightmares of blood and fire, of wounds and tainted, dirty clothes, of screams and cries, and he’ll run away from the blades that will chase him, his body will become a corpse along with many others as he hides in the bloody waters. he has known death even before he saw his reflection.

and when he awakes from this, he’ll find himself in an empty bedroom despite the corners and the walls adorned with furniture, decoration, and dust. he’ll find himself alone—waking up yet he’s still in a nightmare. his family isn’t there.

for his shackles to never exist

the chain suffocates him—there’s the harsh smell of rusting metal and the cold tug of the chain when he moves his hand. his clothes are tattered, the collar and the hems burned off, and he stands before the eyes that scrutinizes and looks down on his existence. their gaze leaves letters that burn on his skin and it forms into a scar that will never heal, a reminder of what he is meant to be and will always be.

but he walks in the streets in flamboyance, the chain never seen on his wrist and neck as if it never once touched him. he treads the line of freedom and restriction recklessly and like a bird who has never known how to spread its wings, he could never reach far into the sky.

the form of his shackles have changed; it doesn’t mean he also has.

to stop the tremble of his hands

he fiddles with his fingers, adjusts the way his watch rests on his wrist—he keeps his hand busy and hidden. he wears a smile on his lips and utters such words filled with confidence as he places his bet, as he gambles his life, yet he desperately tries to conceal the way his hands tremble as he clutches on to his chips.

he wagers his life as if his existence was only a mere chip on the table, but it’s the only control he’ll ever have over himself.

an apology

he has dealt with scornful gazes and harsh remarks, has dwelled on the hidden meaning behind people’s words. he’s all too familiar with the cruel and unkind thread that weaves into their tongue as they speak—some may sing praises to him yet their eyes would harbor only hatred and disgust.

he wishes someone would ask for his forgiveness, but why would he even deserve one? what did he even do to deserve one? what did he do? does his existence outweigh the heaviness of a single syllable the word carries? was he worthy of one? does he even have any worth?

he can only let their gaze taint his skin, rearrange the letters of the words they utter into the one he will never hear.

(he has never forgiven himself either.)

to finally let go

how bruised are his knees and how long will he repent for the sins he has never committed?

he holds on to his burden as if it was a part of him, as if he’ll be nothing but an empty vessel if he loses his hold on it. he knows it's holding him down, knows it's making his hands bleed but it’s everything and the only thing he has known for—the thorns has been engraved into his palm and became part of his skin. he’ll stuff his mouth full of rotten food and leave his stomach empty, and he’ll believe this is what he’s made for.

perhaps when he'll finally find a place to put everything down, he’ll learn how it feels to live for himself and not for the things he carries.

you say you know kakavasha, what is he choosing?

to never have to say goodbye

farewell is a form of poetry and he is a poem.

in most days, he’ll hear his sister’s voice in the empty corridors of his home, he’ll hear the echoes and follow him into places she could never reach (his wishes will never be enough to save her). he’s haunted by the unspoken farewells and the goodbyes he is forced to make, watching their backs as they leave or his own.

(he wishes he never knew the word.)

(his child self) having a conversation with future him

children are bound with endless dreams and light to see into the dark as they walk into their future—he was (once) one of them. he’ll stay up at night wondering what’s ahead of him, grasping on to what little left of his hope that things will become better, and when he sleeps, he’ll dream of talking to his future self.

“are you happy?”

if he’ll have a conversation with his future self, he’ll tell him everything and anything, make him recall the memories lost when growing up, trace the stars with him as he asks him the questions he’s curious to know the answer to (his future self will know him inside out but he, the child he once was, will never know him). and maybe he’ll put their palms together once he notices his agitation—and he’ll see the differences of their hands and notice the dying light in their eyes—as they ask for their god’s blessings.

he’ll tell him: everything will be okay, even when he’ll only be met with silence.

(get onstage 

fear not

never look back.)

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[ozarkthedog]

Stuck Between a Rock and a Hard D***

Summary: After a Welcome Home party, you get stuck in a uncompromising position and Chris can’t seem to help himself.

Pairings: Drunk!Chris Evans x Drunk!Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT. Intoxication. Swearing. Slight Degradation. Confined Spaces. Anal Play.

Word Count: 2,236

A/N: This idea popped into my head and it was so silly I just couldn’t help but write it. I tried to have his “Drunk” state come across hence all the slurring words. Hope it’s not that annoying to read! This drunk Boston boy has “mah” heart. 💙 

No Beta

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Energetic music, copious amounts of liquor and sounds of splashing from the pool filled the dusky sky as the ‘Welcome Home’ party was in full swing on this humid August night.

Chris was finally home after 3 months away and what better than to throw a little bash. Friends and family were sprawled out over the backyard of Chris’ Concord house laughing and carrying on as you sipped on your wine.

You swirled the tart liquid around your tongue and leaned against a patio chair, watching as Dodger ran around with the younger kids. Their screams of enjoyment sounded noisily as they ran from the mutt.

“Get ‘em Bubba!” You heard Chris yell from across the yard.

Beer in hand, cap on backwards and dancing like a fool. Your boy was home.

Warmth filled your belly as you watched him laugh and play a yard game with a few of his friends, all yelling with excitement when someone got the small sack in the hole.

He caught your eyes from across the lush backyard and held it with a sly stare. He licked his lips lewdly knowing what it’d do to you.

You shook your head and drank down the rest of your wine, trying not to get too worked up. There would be plenty of time for that tonight, you smirked to yourself as the pleasant haze of the liquor settled in your belly.

-

After a while, the party started to dwindle. You and Chris gave hugs and bid goodbyes as the night came to a close.

For a moment, you and Chris just stared at one another on the slate patio. A days’ worth of playful glances coming to a head.

You smoothed down your light summer dress, unsure of what to do now that you were finally alone after so much time apart.

The alcohol made his face flush a few shades lighter than the red t-shirt he wore which made him endearing even though his eyes were darkening by the minute.

The amount of lust that radiated off the two of you was hostile, but you pushed it aside as you peered over the various empty beer bottles and half eaten food platters.

“Ugh, we should clean this up.” You picked up an empty beer can before tossing it back onto the table with a laugh.

“Nah, let’s do it tomorrow.” Chris suggested, stalking over to you.

Your breathing escalated as his face held a serious expression despite the slight slurring, “I wanna fuck mah Girl right now.”

You giggled nervously at his tone. The alcohol made everything seem way too funny, but his intense stare had your core clenching.

You knew what would happen if he got his hands on you and you wanted to draw out the yearning just a little bit longer.

“Only if you can catch me!” You shout, before running away like the drunken idiot you were.

You ran up the steps of the patio as carefully as your inebriated self could and crawled through the small dog door Chris had installed for Dodger a year ago.

Halfway through, you heard Chris’s muffled, hysterical laughter through the door. You knew he was doubling over in a fit, which allowed you to more time to crawl through the narrow opening.

You were in the clear as you pushed on the balls of your toes, shimmying your lower half through when suddenly, “OOF!”

Your hips collided with the casing of the small pet door. You started laughing at what a silly idea this was until you moved to pull back and your upper body catches on the frame.

You try again but the door nudges against your armpits causing your arms to flail out in front of you on the den floor.

“Oh, fuck! Chris! I’m stuck!” You yell frantically, kicking your feet on the slate patio.

You try to push yourself through even though you knew your hips were too wide. The small plastic door thumping against your head with every jostle.

“What!?” Chris shouts, incredulously.

 “I’m stuck!” You scream into the empty room as he kneels down next to your torso less frame. 

“Are yah serious?”

“What do you think?!”

Chris busts out laughing again, falling to his hands on the patio. His abs hurt as he tries to stop laughing when you let out a number of swears.

He coughs away the laughter and lays a hand on your lower back. “Ok. Ok. Ok. Ya’ll will be fine. We’ll get yah loose.” He slurred, calming you down through the door.

His hands cover your hips and pulled only to have your armpits halt his actions. “I already tried that you, Meatball.” The buzz from the wine still flowing through your veins.

“What are we going to do?” You utter, finishing with a hiccup.

“I’ll get my tools. But first…” His deep, quiet voice alerted you.

“What is it?” You asked anxiously, thinking one of your friends was coming up the driveway. You’d be mortified if they found you like this.

But then a warm hand slid down the curve of your ass and settled on the top of your hamstring. 

“I’m gonna have some fun.” Chris declared with a playful tone.

Your eyes go wide when you feel him flip your summer dress over your hips and press his growing hard on against your ass. The dark jeans rubbed against your ass with every languid thrust.

“Chris! You can’t!” You shriek upon realizing his intentions.

“Who says? Look at mah girl on all fours, ripe fa the takin’.” His eyes are glassy and ravenous as he grinds against your heat, the thin panties doing nothing to hide your quickly growing arousal.

Your mouth goes slack and eyes flutter when you feel him straining through his jeans. Heady lust swarms your system, taking control regardless of the uncompromising position.

“Looks like someone is enjoyin’ being stuck.” He rasped, unzipping his jeans and sliding his cock head across the soaked material of your panties.

He pulls the drenched thong to the side, groaning when he sees how ready you are. “What a fuckin’ pretty pussy.” He bends down, swiping his tongue threw your folds eliciting a surprised gasp from your lips.

You slam a hand onto the floor as he prods your core with long licks and lewd slurps. “God, I missed yah taste.” He confessed and nuzzled his face back into your heat. The way his beard scratched over your thighs made your back arch, giving him better access.

Your tight opening clenched when he poked his tongue into your core, thrusting the strong muscle in and out with quick jabs before going lower.

He flicked at your clit with hard swipes causing your belly to somersault. Frantic gasps bounce off the den walls with every stroke forcing your pleasure to mount rapidly.

Just as your bliss was about to peak, Chris pulled back with a slick covered smirk. “Nawt so fast, Sweetheart.”

You whined your frustration and laid your head on the cool flooring. You wiggled your hips in the air desperate for any friction and heard him snicker before he smacked your wandering behind with a heavy thud.

“I ain’t felt this cunt in months.” He stated with a deep growl, rubbing his pulsing crown through your inner lips.

His nails scratch the swell of your naked ass, “And yah only cummin’ when my cock is buried deep inside yah.”

You bit your lip knowing what was coming. The intense energy was palpable all night and it was only a matter of time before you two met in a tangle of limbs.

Chris lines up and ever so slowly pushes into your wanton core.

Your smothering heat enveloped his cock as he split you open with a gravely groan. “Fuck.”

Your head sagged between your arms as you felt your walls stretch around his girth. It’d been too long; you’d forgotten just how big he was. A high pitched mewl slipped from your throat, nails scratching at the floor when he finally bottomed out.

The base of his cock spreading you just a bit more around him. “God, yah cunt is choking the life outta me.”

He pulls back slowly before thrusting all the way in. Your cervix swirls around his bulbous tip making him grunt and grasp your hips with a harsh grip.

The animalistic urge to claim diminished when he felt your walls squeeze around his veiny thickness. His hips bumped against your ass with every stroke lightly knocking your hips against the door. 

You mewled when he parted your cheeks, spreading your pussy even wider for him.

“So many nights I took myself in mah hand picturin’ this sweet, little pussy.” His brows pinch in pleasure hearing your muffled cries of rapture through the door.

“I couldn’t get off hard enough knowin’ I wasn’t balls deep inside yah fillin’ yah with my cum.” His admission made your belly tighten. The knot so close to snapping as his hips shoved into your soaked heat with fervor.

His secure hold on your hips slips from the sweat tainting your skin. He smooths his fallen hand over your ass, spreading it open and exposing your asshole.

Your breath catches when you feel him spit onto your exposed hole, thumbing his saliva around as it clenched under his touch. The groan he let out when he watched your tight ring spasm beneath his thumb was sinful.

You whimpered into the flooring with every thrust of his cock as he teases your puckered rim. “I could finally take this untouched hole and there wouldn’t be anythin’ yah could do to stop me.” Your pussy convulsed around his length at the ominous threat.

“Chris…” Your body arched under his assault when he circled your rim with a meticulous touch.

You lock down with a vice like grip on his length as he drives your orgasm head on. You slap at the flooring and shout out your release all over his meaty cock.

He growls in admiration, “Look at the mess yah made all over me, yah naughty girl.”

He snapped his hips hard causing you to yelp out in painful pleasure, your cervix taking the brunt of each shove. The torturous pain ebbed and flowed with the bliss he was forcing on your worn-out body. Tremors ran up your spine as he pummeled you into another orgasm so close behind the first.

“Wish I could see yah face, bet yah look so wrecked takin’ mah cock.”

He let out a surprised groan as you came around him again, mewling nonsense and shrill yelps from behind the door.

“Fuck! Cumming on mah dick outside where anyone could see.” He smacked your ass eliciting a pained gasp from your lips.

He picked up speed, thrusting into you with a punishing pace intent on driving you to another orgasm with his on the precipice.

Chris gathers some of your cum and drags it around your asshole, making it shine with slick. Your eyes rolled back when he tenderly pushed his thumb into you, feeling his cock pass by through the thin tissue with every shove.

“God, yah so pretty bent over with yah holes filled to the brim.”

He grits, feeling you clench around his girth and frantically calling out for him.

“Come on, cum on mah cock one more time. Give me that sweet cunt.” His thumb pulls on the side your hole, making you feel the stretch and forces your orgasm to explode through your core. Both your holes tighten as you cum, dragging Chris along with you.

His hips slam into yours rapidly, searing pleasure burning through his veins as he cums with a growl. His seed painting your channel, soaking you with him.

He pants heavily as he leans his head on the door, “God damn, I’ve missed this.” 

You whimper from the emptiness when he pulls from your heat.

His cum slipping from your core, staining your inner thighs making you shiver.

“What a sight.”

You hear a shutter click and realize he just snapped a photo. “Chris!”

“Hey, this doesn’t happen all the time. I want somethin’ to remember this.” He slaps your ass making you jolt.

“Believe me, I will never forget this.” You utter with an embarrassed groan and shift uncomfortably on the hard slate. “Chris can you go get your tools, my knees are starting to hurt.”

“Oh fuck. Yeah, here kneel on mah shirt. I’ll be right back.” He rips his shirt off and slides it under your knees before running off to the garage.

You sighed into the floor still dumbfounded that you even though you could fit through the tiny door. The alcohol was slowing wearing off making this predicament even worse just as Chris came back. 

“Chris, are you still really drunk? Should you be working with tools right now?” You asked, leaning your face onto your hands. You really didn’t want him hurting you or himself.

Chris sat back a moment and chewed on his lip. “Yah, know... yah might be right. I only brought a hammer and I don’t think that will work.”

“Fuck.”

“Don’t worry Sweetheart, Imma call Mom she’ll know what to do.” Chris said with a smile, taking out his cell.

You hid your face in your hands with a pitiful groan knowing his family would never let you live this down.

[sweetcathedral]

Note: Finally back from my break! Lots of things keep happening in my life that I’ve never expected, so I’m busier than usual, but I have queued up some quick stories for the next few weeks. Although this was inspired by the Are You Am I dresses, it’s more centred around Catholicism that I have a love-hate relationship with. Enjoy!

⚠️: 18+, fem! reader, altar sex, raw, church sex, overstimulation, creampie/breeding

“I don’t think we should be doing this.”

“Cut the act. You’d be fighting me, if you really opposed it,” Sukuna scoffs, admiring the view of your legs spread open—laid on top of the altar. Your ripped stockings, now webs of black thread, running across your thigh, like it’s still trying to keep him from tainting the last bit of innocence you had left. Beams of light fell from the skylight of the church, casting a soft glow on the God that was once loved, but now abandoned and left to be eaten by what he created.

“The hell are you wearing?” Sukuna arched his brow in a grimace expression.

You looked down at your outfit, not seeing what could be wrong with it. It’s your first time wearing something like this; a silk dress with dainty straps and a raw hemming that looks like it’s about to come undone & sheer opaque black stockings. “I don’t see anything wrong with it, does it look bad?” Sukuna strides towards you, analyzing your outfit, even lifting the hem of your dress as if he doesn’t know what’s already there.

“I will never understand the evolution of clothing in this era,” he cocks his head to the side with a placid look in his eyes. Ah, right. He died a long time ago.

“What did people used to wear in your time?”

“Fabrics that actually clothed them,” he tugs at your stockings and wiggles his finger in them, still trying to wrap his head around its function.

“Hey, stop that, it tickles and it feels weird,” you giggled, pushing his hand away.

“I don’t see any point in wearing it. I could rip this off right now.”

“Sukuna, no! This is expensive!” you bicker at him, clinging on to your dress as he tugs at it like a child does when they want their mom’s attention.

“Just ask Gojo to buy you a new one when we’re finished.”

“Finished?” the sound of threads shredding apart startles you.

You scan yourself like a puppy chasing its tail to see if he’d actually ripped your dress apart. Nothing, but something felt off—looking down at your stockings, you see that there was a large slit running down your leg, exposing your thigh.

"Heh, whoops," he flicks the small shred of fabric off his nails, walking you into a corner. The shadow of the room contrasts his face making his eyes glow a deeper crimson. "Don’t look away from me," grabbing your face, his nails dig into your skin as you try to fight off his grip. Lifting you against the wall, he softly drags his nails along your exposed thighs, teasingly drawing circular patterns the higher up he goes.

"Sukuna," you pleaded softly, his hand now on your neck, lifting you ´til you were on your tippy toes & trying to balance yourself so that you wouldn’t fall into complete suffocation.

"Shh, someone might hear you," he whispers in a low octave. You forgot you weren’t in a closed off area. The two of you were originally sent to an abandoned church to investigate a curse user of the Roman Catholic religion, that is until Sukuna took over Yuji’s body.

Your body jolts at Sukuna brushing his knuckles over your clit. The heat of you traces over the length of his finger through the thin fabric of your panties, stifling a moan. "Don’t be shy. It won’t be your first time sinning in front of a God," he cooed in your ears. He told you to be quiet, but he really just wanted to see you hold yourself back as he evokes your temptations & diminishes your composure. He loves seeing you corrupted, especially when it’s in a respectable church built to honour a God who guides herds of blinded sheep.

Only shame & humiliation wash over you as you avert your gaze from looking at the smaller crucifix hanging over the doorway the two of you came from. He turns to look in the same direction you did, a sly grin stretches from ear to ear. “I have a better idea,” his eyes narrow in defiance as he turns to look at the God overseeing the center aisle.

“I don’t think we should be doing this.”

“Cut the act. You’d be fighting me, if you really opposed it,” Sukuna scoffs, admiring the view of your legs spread open—laid on top of the altar. Your ripped stockings, now webs of black thread, running across your thigh, like it’s still trying to keep him from tainting the last bit of innocence you had left. Beams of light fell from the skylight of the church, casting a soft glow on the God that was once loved, but now abandoned and left to be eaten by what he created.

You released a deep exhale at the feeling of something soft and wet trailing over your inner thighs���Sukuna. The warm feeling eases the tension all over your body and you can feel the heat of your blood pumping in your ears, his face getting closer and closer to where you want him the most. “Maybe we should find a more private setting,” you try convincing him.

“Now why would I want that? Just look at how wet you are down here,” he bites on your panties and pulls them off, revealing a dripping mess. It was embarrassing, immoral, but there was something about how good it feels to be doing something so wrong. The thrill of it sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins, your heart beating against your ribcage. More. “Tell me what you want.”

Everything, but even that thought wasn’t enough. “I want you . . . to take me to hell,” you whisper to him.

Taken aback by the words that just came out of your mouth, he brings himself back with that same sly grin and a soft look in his eyes. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

From one moment to the next, Sukuna drove your sanity out from you until you could think of nothing, but only him. The bold movement of his tongue reaching in to taste you, his fingers teasing around your clit and fondling your breasts, his lips pressing on every part of your skin, leaving wet splotches that are deep enough in colour to bloom into an aching bruise afterwards.

“Sukuna,” you lift the hem of your dress over as you fold your legs to your chest—revealing your painfully aching cunt, glistening with desire. The syllables of his name roll off the tip of your tongue like nectar. “More.”

“You don’t need to tell me,” he pulls your hips towards him, enough for your cunt to be pressing against the thick bulge fighting the strain of his black jeans. The altar creaked, as if in disappointment, at the sudden weight change.

Mesmerized by the sight of you laid on the altar like an offering, he takes his time to soak in the image, burning it into his mind; the burnished oak altar with the scene of the last supper carved beneath it, a warm glow cascading from the skylight of the church and the large crucified God, looking down at the lustful act unfolding in his house of worship. But then the feeling of your hips impatiently bucking at him interrupts his thoughts. “You know, they say patience is a virtue,” pleased at your eagerness.

“Fuck the virtues.”

“What a bold thing to say in a church,” he softly chuckles, the sound of his zipper perking your ears.

You reach for his belt, but he laces his fingers into yours, pressing your hand down. The tip of him brushes against your soft folds, lubricating itself with your juices. Without a struggle, his cock unfolds you, pushing a welcoming entrance open between your legs. Your walls flutter in excitement, pulling him in, as the creaking floors of the church groaned in disapproval.

“Oh, God,” you gripped at the altar cloth.

“You should moan louder for the angels to hear,” he thrusted into you harder than when he entered, the sound of skin slapping bounces off the walls. “Fuck.”

All righteous thoughts were purged out of you, like a soul being cleansed anew at adoration. Demon. It wasn’t your first time with him and it definitely won’t be your last. You can feel your body getting desperate to finish as you began to buck your hips faster.

“Closer,” you held your breath, arching your back.

The sound of his name falling off your lips sends a painful feeling of the need of wanting more. He wanted to strip away your senses to see a side of you that no one else has ever seen, the first to discover you and explore whatever you hid away from plain sight. That is what drove the King of Curses, Father of All Sins, to greed.

Echoes of your panting and moaning became a choir of sultry tones, replacing the familiar sounds of organs and bells in the church. Even though your legs were trembling from reaching your limits, he kept on going, ignoring your pleas and begging.

“Not yet,” he grunts in your ear.

“Please . . . I can’t take it anymore.”

Tears stream down your face as you grip onto Sukuna’s arms. The feeling in your legs were no longer there and you were having a hard time controlling your tremors. Just when you thought you couldn’t reach another climax, your cunt began pulsating rapidly as your body uncontrollably tensed up again.

When Sukuna pulled out, a waterfall of cum spilled out of you and pooled onto the altar cloth, dripping down the carving of the Last Supper. The two of you pant in exhaustion, he’s laying on top of you with his arms wrapped around your head, his hand firmly holding you close to him.

You brush your fingers through his hair, reciprocating the same affection back. “Tell me you’re finished for today,” you giggled.

“I wanna say ‘no’, but that’d mean you’d be knocking on Shoko’s door again.”

Both of you laughed as you teasingly tugged at his ear.

“Should we clean—!”

As he helped carry you off the altar, you looked back at the aging oak and crumpled cloth that had been perfectly fine and untainted—now dented with deep inhuman scratch marks surrounding the faint imprint of where you laid.

[blushnote]

rich girl | m.

⟡ word count: 6,708. ⟡ genre: smut, a bit of angst if you squint. ⟡ contains: a blowjob, facefucking, overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, shower sex, copious use of petnames, just a whole lot of sin.

summary: wonwoo likes to call you a rich girl, and you hate it because it’s true. in fact, you hate a lot of things: your friends, your parent’s attitude, the way your life is supposed to be perfect even though you’re miserable. not much makes you happy, except for a punk boy who you can’t even be with.

a/n: this is a reupload because for some reason tumblr wasn’t showing me my own posts? anyways, sorry for the wait!! enjoy hehe. 

your parents don’t like wonwoo.

even better – they don’t like the fact that you like him.

wonwoo isn’t supposed to be someone you like. he’s kind of foul-mouthed, awfully conceited, and he probably makes deals with the devil in his spare time. he likes to hang around those dimly lit corners at night, just outside the local shops, puffing from a cigarette beneath the dusty street light and chuckling amongst his friends. they all hang out together. they’re very tightknit in the way that they only meet on the corner to smoke and laugh and then head their separate ways when it gets late enough.

honestly, you didn’t think you were going to like wonwoo either. most friday nights you go out for drinks with the daughters of your mom’s friends. she’s a business lady, very professional, makes good money, and has the politeness and etiquette of a true monarch. her friends mirror her every quality, and so do their daughters. you like them, even when they snap at you to sit straighter or give you unnecessarily stern glances while you swallow your alcohol in inhumane gulps. they’re great, but they give you a headache.

also, they’re the only friends you have, even if they’re not very good ones. they once left you to get home by yourself when you got too “drunk” for their liking. not wanting to soil their sophisticated reputations, they literally abandoned you after your wobbly trip to the bathroom to fix your makeup. you came back to an empty table. when you left the bar, this unknown man tried to take you by the arm, promising that there was a telephone just around the corner for you to make a call. your cellphone was dead anyways.

“what the fuck are you doing?”

there was a deep, displeased voice that echoed from the street corner as the mystery man tugged you away. you couldn’t help but stumble in your saint laurent heels. they didn’t add much height, yet you felt as though you were walking on stilts. quickly, you made eye contact with wonwoo. he stepped away from the pole and removed the cigarette from between his bubblegum lips, just before he adjusted the glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. the air was cold, so he wore a beanie that pulled his hair back.

the man stuttered in response. he attempted to configure a convincing statement, but wonwoo cut him off.

“do you know him?” wonwoo asked you directly. his friends were silent as they crowded the corner, but they looked ready to pounce.

“n-not re-really, no.” you fought to respond sluggishly.

wonwoo then narrowed his eyes at the man who was digging his nails into your skin.

“do you know her?” the man countered. he sounded almost petulant.

“no,” wonwoo admitted impassively, “but i’m not an idiot, and i’ve hung around here long enough to see my fair share of fucking weirdos. go slink back to the other side of the street before i shove my cigarette past your eye socket and into your cranium.”

honestly, wonwoo’s words almost turned you completely sober. the man looked like he wanted to argue, but his pathetic type doesn’t usually put up a fight when their plans are directly thwarted. he released you, and melted away into the night like a sad, shrinking shadow.

“do you need to use my phone?” wonwoo was already revealing it from his pocket.

you nodded. you knew your mother would explode into fumes if you called her at this hour, so you dialled the local taxi service and decided to wait right outside the bar. you wanted to thank wonwoo for intervening when he did. he didn’t necessarily look like a bad person, but his tainted mouth and snarky expressions didn’t exactly shift him into the light.

“thanks,” you told him as you handed over his phone, “i-i appreciate what you dd-did.”

wonwoo made the effort to blow the smoke from his cigarette away from your face.

“it’s fine,” he shrugged, “happens all the time. figured i’d just stand here and be useful i guess.”

so there is a reason you’re always at this corner.

that’s what you wanted to say, but you were too shy, too foggy, to articulate any other acknowledgement apart from a tight-lipped smile. since then, you knew wonwoo would be someone you liked.

wonwoo liked to call you a rich girl. it bothered you, mostly because it’s true. you wore diamonds in your ears, pricey jewels on your fingers, dressed in luxury outfits and designer products. you lived a lavish life because your parents were well off, but it’s not like you tried to rub it in everyone’s face. in fact, you were quite modest, and you only wore the jewelry because your mother never stopped draping you in it. after your first encounter with wonwoo outside the bar, you greeted him again on the street upon exiting the floral shop.

he was alone, not even smoking a cigarette, instead sucking on a vibrant, cherry red lollipop. you could smell its sugary coating the second you stood in front of him.

“hey, rich girl.” he nodded. “how’s life treating you?”

the only reason you approached him was out of gratitude. you had already thanked him for his intervention that one night, but you wanted to thank him again now that you weren’t intoxicated and cloudy in the head. notably, your expression soured at his words.

“rich girl? that’s not my name.”

wonwoo looked you up and down skeptically. his eyes were a strong, earthly shade of brown behind his glasses, but in that afternoon sunlight, they flared up slightly, and the colour was more molasses-like. thick and sweet.

“are you joking?” he seemed like he wanted to laugh, and swirled the lollipop to the opposite corner of his mouth. “babygirl, those heels you’re wearing are more than my rent.”

you didn’t know why, but you were transiently overwhelmed with the urge to drop to your knees and let him fuck your mouth right there on the corner. was that too soon? oh well. you already thought it. remembering you were supposed to feel disrespected at his comment, you crossed your arms, though it only accented the jaded bracelet your friend bought you as a birthday gift.

“i’m going to pretend i didn’t hear anything you just said. i wanted to thank you for getting me out of that situation last week. i thought i should tell you again, now that i’m… well… sober, i guess i could say.”

you then swallowed tightly. “do you really stand there to stop creeps from taking advantage of people?”

wonwoo shrugged. he then tousled his hair, which had been flopping in multiple directions. it was on the longer side, and seemed to be the same colour as dark, silvery ashes, though the roots were pretty much black. his hair looked so soft and springy. you almost wanted to comb it down for him.

“i’m just at the right place at the right time.” he said.

what did that even mean? you simply accepted his response and pressed on.

“well, i wouldn’t mind repaying the favour one day. do you want a coffee or something?”

“no.” wonwoo replied sharply. “you could do me one better and slip me a couple hundred from your pretty bank account. i’m trying to get the local black tar heroin dealer off my back.”

you nearly choked.

“wha-what? are you… serious?”

wonwoo maintained his staid, emotionless expression, and you were really starting to believe that there was a black tar heroin dealer running rampant in the streets that might pop wonwoo if he didn’t pay him off. but then a gradual smile pulled up his lips, and you wanted to retract your entire offer.

“yes, it’s a joke. you’re too easy. the only drugs you’d find in this part of town is the ibuprofen for your grandma’s arthritis. you don’t get out much, do you, rich girl?”

you gaped widely at him.

“careful, baby,” he smirked, and he suddenly brought his hand out, raising your chin with his cold fingertips to close your mouth. “don’t breathe too much of this cheap air. it’s not filtered.”

in a bubbling, festering haze of anger, you snapped his hand away.

“for your information i—,”

abruptly, you heard your name echo from down the street. turning around, you watched your mother exit the floral shop, carrying a pale green wrapping of scarlet poinsettias. they were so huge that the petals almost covered her entire face. it wasn’t her fault, but she couldn’t have picked a worse time to come looking for you, especially when she was cloaked in the thick warmth of her sable fur coat. you sighed deeply and faced wonwoo again. he’d lost his lollipop, attempting to spark up a cigarette instead.

“aren’t these just gorgeous?” your mother swooned, running her fingers over the butter-soft petals. “they certainly cost a pretty penny to get such an exquisite arrangement, but i couldn’t help myself!”

you wanted to sink straight into the earth. wonwoo was looking between you in pure amusement as he crammed his lighter inside a pocket on his jeans. your mother didn’t even seem to notice him until he took his first puff, the distinct potency of the smoke making her nose scrunch.

“a-and who’s this, dear?” she couldn’t even mask her discomfort as she inquired you about wonwoo. at that point, you hadn’t even known his name yet.

“wonwoo,” he introduced himself, “a new friend of your daughter.”

“oh, how lovely,” she nodded at him while forcing a crooked grin. “honey,” she then placed her hand on your shoulder and spoke closely into your ear, “your father is parked down the street. we need to leave soon and get these out of the cold, so please finish your conversation quickly.”

as soon as she slipped past you and began striding swiftly toward the car, you could already taste the muddled defeat on your tongue. if you weren’t protruding the mirage of a spoilt rich girl then, you certainly were now. at least he didn’t blow any smoke into her face, though that didn’t diminish the fact you were going to receive a lengthy lecture in the car.

“why would you say we’re friends?” you scolded wonwoo.

“because you don’t have any.” he responded matter-of-factly while tapping some ash off his cigarette.

“that’s not true! what do you even know about me anyways, apart from that i’m rich.” you made sure to incorporate in-air quotations.

wonwoo pushed back the silver tresses dancing in front of his glasses, embracing the cool, afternoon current against his face.

“not a lot,” he admitted, “you come for drinks every few fridays. sit at the table looking like you hate your life and all the people in it. then you leave with your phony little rich clique.”

“not to be rude, wonwoo—” you almost wanted to laugh; you came here to thank him. now that ship had completely sailed— “but you’re kind of a dick.”

he then had the nerve to roll his eyes. “you’d drop to your knees and suck mine in a second, babygirl. now didn’t your mother say you should hurry up and get in the car? the princess can’t be out of the palace i’m guessing, especially not to talk to assholes on street corners.”

what else could you do apart from swallow your own frustration, bite your lip, and brush past him? there was nothing. it was too bitter to stand outside anyways. a strengthening winter wind was beginning to pick up from the north, the sting making your eyes water. at the same time, your cheeks were hot metal. if no one were on that street, you certainly would have taken him right into your mouth and sucked him dry. he was ridiculous and cruel, but you loved the unhinged nature he unearthed in you. it was liberating in a sense.

you wondered what would become of your relationship.

“where did you say you were going again?”

you looked up from the porcelain dinner plate, in which you’d been picking at the last few crumbs of your wine reduction pineapple cake. it wasn’t your favourite dessert, though you always finished every meal out of respect for the family’s personal chef. you saw your father reach for his water glass. he took a long sip and eyed you over the candlelight and scarlet poinsettias. it was in a way that was completely and unabashedly suspicious.

“ester and i are going to the jewellers to get a custom necklace as aria’s christmas gift. i told you like five times already.”

of course, that was a gigantic lie. you and ester had already gotten the precious necklace last week, you just needed a reasonable excuse.

“and you’re coming straight home, correct?” his voice was stern and unnegotiable.

“i always do.”

“not always.” your mother chipped in as she cut a piece of the glazed cake with her fork. “you’re not going to see that one character, are you?” she always called people with less fortune characters, like they weren’t even considered to be real.

“who?” you acted clueless, and poured yourself more of the sugary, pink lemonade.

“you know who,” there was already a note of displeasure in her voice, “that boy from the corner. the one who smokes. i wasn’t very impressed by his actions.”

you started to squeeze the white cloth across your lap. “he’s trying to quit. i’ve persuaded him.”

“he won’t do it,” your father shook his head, “and he’s not right for you. i don’t want you near him.”

“and that’s why you’re coming straight home after the jewellers.” your mother continued, not allowing you the breadth to speak.

this family couldn’t get any more ridiculous, you were tempted to scream. instead, you pushed out your chair and collected the utensils sitting on your placemat. a maid passing by had scrambled to assist you, though you told her thoughtfully that you could take care of yourself. in actuality, it was the perfect time to get going, just as you could feel the anger warm your own blood to a boiling crimson. you threw on a long peacoat, a spritz belonging to a vanilla perfume, and your saint laurent opyum heels.

“i’ll be home soon!” you shouted down the marbled corridor, but it was only your own voice that echoed back to you.

your knees were beginning to lose feeling from being pressed against the sponge-like carpet of wonwoo’s bedroom, and they would probably ache like hell whenever you came to your feet again, but for the time being, you really didn’t care. your hands were braced against wonwoo’s knees as his hand tangled possessively through your hair, each of his tugs causing your scalp to burn and tingle. you were crying. you loved to be used by him, and he loved using you. especially the warm inside of your slick mouth.

“ff-fuck, that’s it, babygirl, j-just let me fuck your pr-pretty fuckin’ face.” quickly heeding his words, wonwoo bucked his hips up in a sudden snap, the head of his cock nuzzled deep against your throat.

consequently, you gagged, and there were glossy trails of your own saliva uncomfortably pooling down your chin. he bucked up again, his fingers clasping your hair even tighter. you were struggling to breath around him, white, cottony spots blurring your vision while he forced you to take him even further. you were clutching onto his knees with enough strength to bruise his pale skin. but hearing his voice, lined with lust, heavy and laboured, how it hitched when everything felt too good; you were addicted to it.

“you’re so good at this—,” wonwoo grunted through his teeth upon jamming your head down again, “m’gonna cum down your f-fuckin’ throat, baby. be a good girl n’ m-make sure you swallow a-all of me, huh?”

you learned that wonwoo was really filthy. he didn’t have a preference for where he came, though you had to regulate his carelessness. if any of your clothes even got one rip, one pulled up thread, or god forbid a stupid ejaculation stain, your mother would put your head on a mahogany plaque. wonwoo always made fun of you for belonging to a rich family, having to act like the town’s local sweetheart because one wise crack might cost your parents a lost business partner. but you knew he loved it.

the elegant daughter of a rich heir running around with the outlandish punk? he adored it.

eventually, you had to come up for breath or else you would’ve fainted between his thighs. the air gushed into your lungs and coldly filled your chest. a string of your spit was connected from wonwoo’s flushed, hard cock to your wet lips. you could hardly discern anything that surrounded you. the oxygen had yet to thoroughly circulate and the tears were creating a thick blur. wonwoo started to stroke himself while you prepared to take him once more. the empty void in your mouth was a horrible feeling.

“you look like a fucking mess.” wonwoo grinned as he noted that your body was shaking. “am i being too rough with you, babygirl? should i just jack myself off and cum all over your face instead?”

“n-no,” you suckled in a half-hearted breath, “i-i can do it.”

wonwoo smirked. “you still want it down your throat?”

you could see him clearly now. his cheeks were tinted pink, and his eyes were impossibly dark, glittering in anticipation. without thinking, you nodded eagerly, knowing this was what you wanted. he then tapped his cock against your swollen lips, to which you opened up again and calmly took him as deep as you could. he watched your eyes glister with more tears before he started thrusting up into your mouth. his fingers were gentle. they brushed the stray spindles from your face, now destroyed by tears and drool.

“i’m surprised your tears aren’t pure gold,” he laughed, “i guess you aren’t so special.” your spine tingled as his hand crept back through your hair. “m’gonna make you cry even harder, baby.”

his grip had turned to solid iron against your scalp. you got less than a sliver to brace yourself for his unrelenting treatment, in which he pushed you straight down on his cock and kept your face right where he wanted it. with his hand against the back of your head, wonwoo snapped his hips upward, feeling you immediately gag in response. then, he unleashed on you, using your mouth as a mere fucktoy, getting all his pleasure’s worth from you in each of his hard thrusts. everything was so overwhelming and rapid.

wonwoo couldn’t help the mantra of guttural, taunt curses. he started to moan even, his deep voice cracking the second he felt his sticky cum start to abundantly spurt. without a warning, you struggled slightly to accept and swallow it, though wonwoo was intent on keeping you flush to his pelvis until every drop was polished off. he was still thrusting shallowly into your mouth, and you could feel his length gradually begin to soften. his release was warm, and it was similar to cream sliding down your throat.

after he removed himself from your mouth, he titled up your head by the chin.

“did you swallow it all yet?”

you shook your head. quickly, the side of your hot cheek was met with wonwoo’s hand. he’d given you a timid slap, one that wasn’t meant to hurt, but stung gingerly.

“i wanna see you swallow, babygirl.” he purred. “be good, won’t you?”

your tears were dribbling uncontrollably as you fully swallowed his seed. god, your throat felt like it was on fire. each muscle in your jaw was burning up ardently. your knees were so numb you didn’t even think you could stand. there wasn’t enough time for wonwoo to return the favour. you were sure he could smell the thick scent of your arousal, especially as it ruined your underwear and shone on your inner thighs.

but you didn’t care. having him use you for the night was enough.

“are you alright?” wonwoo asked, getting himself back in his pants.

you didn’t respond, just gripped onto his knee tightly and attempted to stand. your opyum heels were still on, and you nearly broke an ankle as the blood rushed into your legs. wonwoo stood also. he stabilized you by holding your shoulders, at least for a good minute. pulling back your sleeve, you rid the tears that stained your face with a quick wipe from your hand. you were going to have to be very speedy getting back to the house, unless you wanted your father to send the swat team after you.

“god,” you sighed with a raspy, dying voice, “i hate my life.”

wonwoo scoffed at you lightly.

“what lie did you tell them this time?”

you muttered, “i was going to the jewellers.”

“that’s a long time to be at the jewellers.”

“i know that,” you snapped quickly in response.

more tears pushed at your ducts. you couldn’t believe how unhappy you were, even despite having every material thing you could ever want. sometimes that particular thought would just pummel you out of nowhere and you’d fight back the urge to cry.

wonwoo’s hand cupped the side of your face. his thumb stroked gently beneath your eye and he leaned in to kiss your mouth softly. his tongue tasted like a cherry lollipop. he really was trying to quit smoking.

“what are you gonna do, babygirl?” wonwoo hummed, pressing his forehead against yours as he continued to brush your cheek.

you held his waist. “i dunno,” you croaked, “my parents don’t like you. my dad doesn’t want me near you.”

“then don’t tell him i fucked your face, princess. it’s easy.”

there was a puff of meek laughter in your chest. for a few more minutes, you let wonwoo hold you. it was the most comfortable and happy you’d felt all day. you were running short on time. the first thing you’d do when you get home would be to run a hot shower and most likely finger yourself while you thought about wonwoo’s cock lodged deep down your throat. maybe one day you’d really snap and stuff all your belongings in a suitcase and come live with him in the shitty scope of town.

but for now, that seemed unattainable.

you’d have to come up with another lie as to why you just spent two hours at the jewellers.

“the earrings were the most magnificent things i’d ever seen! i’m going to wear them for my modelling gig next month, in paris of course. i’ll even text you guys some photos of them when i get home. they have these little opal centres that absolutely sparkle.”

just one more word. if you had to listen to aria babble one more word about her modelling gig or her stupid opal earrings or her all-expense paid trip to paris then you might have to throw your glass of chardonnay in her face. those were the only three things she talked about. then the month would change and she’d have another three things to drive into the mud, yet everyone at the table ate up her words like they were a slice of chocolate cake. you were starting to develop a headache.

“that’s wonderful, aria!” ester was gleaming as she readjusted the strap on her pearl-white dress. you could just tell she was dying to incorporate tales of her own wealth into the conversation. “i can’t wait to see your modelling pictures. that reminds me, i still have some old videos from when i went parasailing in bali. do you guys wanna see them?”

everyone started crowding around ester’s side of the table, attempting to view the footage she was pulling up on her phone screen. however, you didn’t budge, and continued to stare with a dull look in your eyes out the bar’s front window. through the glass, you could see wonwoo standing at the street lamp with his friends, swirling around another lollipop from cheek to cheek. you wondered if it was cherry. his last flavour had been green apple. you tasted it on his tongue when he’d fucked you in the backseat of his car.

but that was a week ago.

“don’t you want to see?” ester was smiling at you.

winding your fingers around your thin wine glass, you shrugged. “i’ll pass.”

“suit yourself.” ester replied, and started to play her first video.

you hated everything about this situation.

wonwoo was right. you really didn’t have any friends, and that became especially clear as you observed everyone at the opposite end of the table, adoring ester’s cute, ditsy little parasailing videos that her boyfriend took. you wished you liked the same things these girls did. your life would be one-hundred times more enjoyable if you just embraced your sumptuous blessings and shed a couple brain cells to be on the same level as them.

then again, you didn’t want to be exactly like them.

they left you to get home by yourself just because you drank too much. at a bar.

pressing the wine glass against your lips, you tilted your head back and easily gulped down the remaining chardonnay. it was a pleasant coolness that streamed down your throat, and you slammed the glass onto the table once it was emptied; even slouched back in your seat and didn’t bother patting your lipstick dry with a tissue. aria raised an eyebrow at you. she looked like she was itching to say something. you were in the mood for a challenge. if she was going to make a passive aggressive comment, it better be soon.

“i hope you have a designated driver.” she finally decided to chuckle.

you rolled your eyes. “shut up, aria.”

ester and her friends immediately looked up from the phone.

“excuse me?” aria replied while tucking a strand of her behind her ear. she seemed a bit baffled by your sudden disdain. “i don’t believe i’ve ever heard you speak like that.”

you were beyond a point of caring. “what are you gonna do then? tattletale on me? you’re such a fake.”

“that’s way out of line.” ester intervened, staring you down intensely. “why are you acting like this?”

“whatever.” you stood up from the chair and reached for your coin purse, revealing a wadded clump of cash that you slapped on the lacquered table. admittedly, the alcohol concocted with your frustration (not to mention being around wonwoo’s snide personality) had quite the effect on your behaviour. if you never had to see these girls again, it would be too soon. you couldn’t believe that you’d even went through the effort of buying aria a christmas present. the only thing she gifted you was a card with her signature on it.

like that was fucking useful.

“i think you need to leave.” ester announced like you weren’t already gathering your things.

“exactly.” you falsely commended her.

she probably had a pea-sized diamond in her skull instead of an actual brain. “i’m leaving now before you guys get the chance to ditch me. don’t worry about it though. i can actually walk myself out this time.”

if only you had a camera ready to capture their gobsmacked expressions. it would have been embarrassingly laughable. you flicked past them toward the door and pushed into the nighttime air, which was crisp and wonderfully cold to your warmed flesh. you felt powerful for summoning the courage to break ties with them, and yet, at the same time, you found that you were on the verge of tears. they deserved to have their toxic behaviour thrown back in their face. it was just that you felt a bit broken.

now you truthfully were alone. well – apart from wonwoo.

you approached him as he stood at the corner, still suckling on his lollipop. him and his friends were in the midst of a humorous conversation when you tapped on wonwoo’s hard shoulder. you always wondered what they spoke about. it always seemed more interesting than the lifeless talk you once endured inside the bar. he didn’t seem all that surprised to see you, though he did look with concern at the watery film across your eyes. you could smell the sweetness of his lollipop; it had to be strawberry.

“are you okay?” wonwoo asked, his breath forming wispy cotton against the dark sky.

you ignored his question. “i want to go back to your place.” you told him.

“now?” he raised his eyebrow.

“yes. now would be good. i’ve just been thinking, and i really want you to eat me out.”

you didn’t care if his friends overheard. apparently, wonwoo didn’t care either. he smirked at you and licked his lips, though there remained a bit of uncertainty in his eyes. you had yet to answer his initial question. from inside the bar, you knew those girls were staring at you, watching you talk to wonwoo.

they were definitely going to tattle to your parents.

your fingers clawed mercilessly over the bed, practically uprooting the linens tucked beneath the mattress as wonwoo kept your thighs tightly locked apart. everything felt so dense, so hot, like the universe was pushing down on your chest and igniting flame inside of your body. you lifted your head off his pillow, only capturing a mere glimpse of his pink tongue gliding past your slit, the muscle coated purely in your arousal. he started to fuck you with his tongue, digging it as deep as he could within your heat.

unabashedly, you moaned, extremely loud and most likely disturbing everyone in his apartment complex. everything about the technicality and purpose of his movements was pushing you toward a climax that would be unlike any other. he was so impatient to get a taste of you that he hadn’t even taken your skirt off, instead bunching the pleated material up against your stomach while your underwear were thrown to the floor. suddenly, you were gasping, and your head collapsed back to the pillow.

wonwoo had managed to wriggle his hand between your thighs. as he ran his tongue in hot, fervent licks against your needy clit, he pushed two fingers inside of you, scissoring you open.

“ffuh-fuck, wonwoo!” you wailed, your hand grasping at his soft hair to keep his tongue against you. “it fe-feels s-so … s-so fucking go-good!”

he’d been taking his sweet time in building up your climax. you allowed him to have his way with you, since he knew how to work your body as though he were magic. his fingers started to curl. it didn’t take him long before they were hitching up into that one golden spot, the one that caused the entire room to whirl. you could tell that he was smiling. he began to messily circle his tongue around your clit. the sensation of the warm, wet muscle pleasuring your most sensitive region was leaving you breathless.

“c’mon, babygirl,” wonwoo mumbled against your core, his fingers thrusting up heavily and abusing that spot inside of you, “you gonna let go and let me taste your cum? you’re fucking dripping all over the bed.”

there was a glimmer of drool leaking from the edge of your mouth. you were so blissed out and crammed with euphoria that you could hardly articulate a response. wonwoo wasn’t giving you much of a chance either. he started a brisk pace rubbing his tongue against your clit, and then he closed his plump lips around you to better flick it with the pink muscle. his bicep was probably burning as he slammed his fingers deep into your heat, making you squelch. your slick had thoroughly soaked the sheets beneath you.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you panted, arching your chest into the air, “i-it’s s-so much, w-wonwoo—m’gonna—nngh—m’gonna cc-cum!”

wonwoo kept your hips pressed firmly to the mattress with one arm as your pleasure exploded. the tears easily streamed down your flustered, glossy face as this extreme contraction passed through you. it was incredibly wet, too wet, and you knew exactly what had happened as wonwoo pulled out his glistening fingers and completely buried his face between your thighs. god, it was fucking embarrassing. you would have curled away from him if wonwoo wasn’t so persistent. he kept licking at you, hard and fast.

at that point, your tears were no longer tiny beads. the sensitivity had left your nerves completely raw, and you sobbed helplessly as wonwoo continued to eat you out. his tongue felt like it was lapping everywhere, impatient and hungry. you tried to pull him away by dishevelled hair, but he swatted your hand back and bit down softly on your swollen clit. before you even knew what was happening, wonwoo had somehow forced your body into another orgasm. his tongue was inside of you as the second wave hit.

“pl-please,” you whimpered in utter fragility, the mixture of pleasure and pain becoming too overwhelming as wonwoo attempted to lick you clean, “pl-please, wonwoo… i-it huh-hurts..”

he chuckled against your sore flesh warmly. “are you sure you’re done, baby? bet i could make you squirt again if i was real gentle.”

“i-i don’t want to talk about it…” you said shakily. honestly, you didn’t even know your body was capable of feeling that much stimulation and pleasure. it was cosmic.

“awe, don’t be embarrassed,” wonwoo hummed, “you have no idea how fucking hot that was.”

“i don’t want to know.” you sighed.

wonwoo scoffed innocuously. he pecked the inside of your thigh, then each hip bone, before he crawled overtop of you and let you taste your own sweetness off his tongue. you spent a few minutes idly making out, smearing saliva over each other’s flushed lips, running your hands up and down his broad, hard chest, leaving scarlet rivulets along his biceps. wonwoo began teasing his fingers against your slit again, and you gasped into the kiss as his finger sunk into you, slowly, deeply.

“what’s wrong?” wonwoo asked while pumping the digit at a gentle pace.

“what do you mean?” you squeaked, staring into his brown eyes tinged with his earlier concern.

“you know what i mean,” wonwoo hummed, “why were you about to cry outside the bar? what happened?”

“are you sure we should discuss this while you’re fingering me?”

“baby, just tell me.” wonwoo urged with a comforting tone in his voice. he started to massage his thumb over your clit, and your entire body jolted.

you sniffled. “i-i just, i— i kind of cut ties with my friends. a-and i’m glad i did it but now i’m just gonna be even more a-alone.”

“of course not,” wonwoo shook his head, “you have me.”

“are you sure?”

slight amusement and shock coloured wonwoo’s face. he pulled his hand away from your core and looked like he wanted to laugh. you couldn’t blame him, but you also couldn’t help your insecurity.

“i’m sure, baby.” he told you firmly. “i’ll always be here for you. i promise.”

you smiled up at him, feeling your heart start to soften.

“can we take a shower?” you then proposed. “i want to get these tears off my face before they dry.”

while wonwoo was busy getting the water running inside the bathroom, you noticed your phone start to glow and vibrate on his nightstand. it was your mother’s number on the screen. taking a long, slow breath, you flipped your phone upside down and ignored the call. it was a risky move, but it felt almost healing in a sense to turn away from the stress in your life. instead, you focused on what mattered in the moment.

wonwoo joined you in the shower, the water gliding in silk-like pathways around his lean muscle and smooth skin. he pushed back his wet hair, sparkling droplets sticking heavy to his eyelashes. he pressed you against the tiles, and their icy touch sent a shiver up your spine. in the midst of the steam and heat, he was kissing you again, suckling softly on your tongue and squeezing your breasts in his hands. his aching length, hard and heavy, brushed between your thighs, to which your palm started to glide up his shaft.

he smiled against your mouth, “you want my cock inside you, babygirl?”

the fire slowly rebuilt itself from the embers in your stomach.

“yes please.” you lilted innocently.

wonwoo decided to press your front against the glass wall instead of the tile. his lips were leaving drifting pecks up your shoulder blade, and he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. a rough, deep groan filled your ear as wonwoo rubbed his cock between your folds, allowing your arousal to coat him generously. however, you were yearning to feel how he filled you entirely, until you could feel him nestled right to the brink. wriggling your hips against him, it was your non-verbal cue for him to start sliding in.

he cupped your breasts in his hands, whispering into your ear, “how should i fuck you, baby? do you want it hard?”

as impatient as you were, there was something about the atmosphere that told you to prolong your intimacy.  “n-no,” you mumbled as the fog swathed around you, “s-slow, i want to feel you.”

your moan was almost louder than the water spraying against the tiles when wonwoo started to push inside of you. once he was buried as far as could fit, he started to grind into you, extending his pace so that you could truly feel his every inch and vein. his fingers were massaging your chest, the round flesh almost like velvet to his touch. everything about your body was endearingly soft and warm. he loved it.

“does it feel good, babygirl?” wonwoo purred. he was situated at such a pleasurable depth inside you that you felt like complete gelatine. he thrust into you a little harder, but it was enough to make you cry.

“s-so good,” you stuttered, licking the water off your lips. “do i feel good t-too?”

wonwoo smirked. he moved his hips at a shallow pace. “mmhm. you’re so tight and warm around me, baby. feels so perfect. how pretty do you think your pussy would look with my cum dripping out of it? should we try it?”

you pushed yourself back against his pelvis, “fill me up, wonwoo, please.”

“of course,” he grinned, and slowly dipped a hand down your stomach until you felt him begin to rub soft circles into your clit.

“let’s see how much you can take, babygirl.”

you were exhausted. you were sore. but you felt safe. you made an audacious decision and decided to spend the night at wonwoo’s rather than going home, where you knew you’d be greeted by an equally displeased mother and father that aria had snitched to. it was the first time you’d gone to bed without wearing pyjamas that weren’t expensive, pink satin. you were clad in nothing but one of wonwoo’s old t-shirts. he tried to give you one that didn’t still carry the scent of stale cigarette smoke.

his arm was around your waist, your spine resting comfortably against his chest while you lay together beneath the bedsheets. the sheet that was stained in your arousal had been tossed in the laundry hamper. you knew wonwoo would never stop teasing you about it. anyways, life felt different at his apartment; in fact, it felt better, especially when wonwoo kissed your temple before shutting off the light. your wealth had never been a defining factor in your personality, but it did make you consistently miserable.

that night, it was just you and a boy, a boy who you were quite positively in love with. maybe he loved you too. you weren’t completely certain yet, and you didn’t want to rush anything; however, you felt fairly confident his heart was likewise when he buried his face into your neck and wished you goodnight in his low, sleepy voice.

whatever your parents had to say, you’d find out tomorrow morning.

right now, you weren’t the rich girl, but a happy girl, and that mattered more to you than anything else.

[kissme-hs]

Tainted Love : 2

Here’s awaited part 2 of our recent heartbreak. I would very much appreciate the feedback and suggestions for further improving my writing skills. Also, thank you everyone who showed me love and support it means a lot. I haven’t proof read it so I apologise for any mistakes. I hope you all like it!!

-Ria

Warnings: none

Pairing : Reader x Chris Evans

Tainted love : 1

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

Once a cheater, always a cheater. If you can let you heart drag your feelings from the person you believed you loved to a stranger who’s looks were so mesmerizing it made you tremble break the trust your person put in you, you are nothing but a sinner. The sin of crushing someone’s heart for your greedy needs, the heart which would die to give you love is worst than any other. 

You thought this whole time Chris wasn’t the one to be blamed. You thought he went to seek comfort and warmth which you failed to give him for a few days. You thought he felt lonely just because you were working so hard to be accepted in his glamorous world. The blame was on you, as per YOU. But oh boy how wrong you were. The kind heart you carried took the blame of Chris’s sin. Poor you who thought maybe just maybe if you gave him your time things would be different. You left thinking maybe this is what fate wanted. 

No.                                                             

It was never you. Being a kind person came with cons of being taken advantage of. You neither were neither dumb to be fooled easily nor were you the cleverest not once not falling for someone’s fake tears. Your generosity was one of the beautiful traits that made Chris fall in love. Your empathetic self always tried helping the world as much as you could. You were indeed a piece of art he chose to love.

The fault wasn’t yours. He knew. He was aware of how much you were working hard to be accepted in his world of fame, to stand up to expectations of his fans and people surrounding him in being The Chris Evans’s girlfriend. And he appreciated it. Chris was grateful for what you were doing. He was thankful to the lord for bringing such an angel in his life filling it up with joy and happiness. For giving him someone who loved him so dearly he felt the world moved beneath his feet. He was so in love with you even till the date he was on top of that lady. But the thing is, it all did not start when you became busy, it all started way before.

He wouldn’t like saying it was a mistake because it wasn’t. A mistake is an action you do unwilling without any intention. The very first second she pressed her lips to his and he kissed her back was unintentionally as it was a reflex respond of his lips getting used to kissing yours. But the moment after when he pulled her back in grabbing her by her throat was the minute he lost his defense of calling it a mistake. He was well aware and sober enough to know what he was doing. None of the actions ‘just happened’ he chose to do it. It was his own decision sneaking out of the house just to get a taste of her. He forgot about the woman lying beside him dreaming of a beautiful life for the both of them. No longer had Chris started enjoying the feeling of her body connected to his. The new taste got him addicted. The growing lust overshadowed the emotions he had for you.

“I love the way you take me in baby” Chris bite her ear as he thrust in her body bringing himself to the edge.

“Just like your girlfriend does” She smirked and for a second it felt like the realization hit his mind. He looked at the lying lady beneath him and searched for the face he fell for but couldn’t find it. His mind wandered to your face taking in your beauty but the feeling of lust overcame his thoughts.

“Even better”

The feeling of devastation was real as you stumbled out of the house with an aching heart. Your eyes were blurred with the tears he caused you caused because in the back of your head it was your entire fault. The sound of your clicking heels echoed the empty parkway as you quickly rushed to get seated in your car before getting noticed by your neighbors or hiding paps. There was no sun out that day. The sky was dull and grey and soon you heard the rain drop on your roof. Seemed like the universe was helping you, signaling you to let the pain out as you let out a loud cry. If anyone stood outside, it’d hard for them to figure out that you were yelling In ache because of the rain muffling your broken voice.

Every sob reminded you of the time Chris promised you he wouldn’t make you cry.

But here you were sitting with broken promises and tainted love.

Even though Chris was finding someone else attractive, it didn’t mean he stopped caring about you. He missed you with every breath he took, he missed you when he looked at the photos hung on the wall, he missed you looking at the t-shirts you’ve worn. He knew he was up to no good when he decided to still keep holding onto you when he was seeing someone else. He would not deny that he is as selfish man when it came to you. Him fucking her, never changed the fact that at the end of the day it YOU who he thinks of. So when you were almost two days late coming from the business trip he panicked. Yes, he should’ve called to check on you but that’s the thing. There were bare phone calls, bare test messages, bare kisses and almost to nothing of I love you’s.

His mind blurred with the most regretting thoughts, none of them close to him cheating on you but instead something bad happening to you. Little did he know, you already saw the worst of all.

“Hey where are you” He typed in biting his lips, the little voice in his head hinting that you might’ve come across to his dirty little secret but brushing it off he hit the send button. And the wait began. He waited for an hour, two hours and soon he fell asleep waiting for you to text him back. He was sprawled on the couch when his phone buzzed awaking him from his little dream-land.

“Hey Chris,

I came home. I was standing right in front of you but you were so blinded by the beauty of your mistress that you couldn’t see the girl you love once loved. I am sorry for not loving you enough Chris. I am sorry you felt the need to seek love from someone else. Only if I was able to give you the happiness you wouldn’t have done what you did. Please don’t be mad at yourself because I know you will, because I know no one can stop you from caring about me. The way you look at her tells me enough to let you go. And so I will. I hope you find happiness in her. But it won’t change the fact that I still love you, dearly and heavily like I always did.

Take care,

I love you Chris.”

With just mere words he felt his world crashing down. He can’t imagine the pain you felt when the man you loved was fucking another girl in the same bed you made love on. For the first time the guilt crawled up his throat as he let out a gasp, his breath became heavy and his hands went cold. How could he never even once think what would happen if you saw it? How could he not. Just imagining you in bed with someone else feels like getting punched in the guts and makes him want to strangle the man then how could he do the same to you. And oh poor you, he thought. Took the blame on you, left him to be without putting up a fight.

For a second he was disappointed hearing you just give up but then he realized, he was the one who started it. When he saw her working hard day and night he should’ve held you tight, telling you how much he loved you, how much he appreciated you but instead he carried on with his little fling.

His eyes picking up tears and his stomach churning with regret. He did not know what to do. The shame was eating him alive knowing he had the best in the world but he still went for something which was nothing but an illusion.

He promised to give you the love in fairytales but gave you a tainted one instead.

—

Sorry if this didn’t turn out as you thought it would. I wanted to keep things real and based on my personal opinions I would never give a person who cheated on me a second chance.

Tags

@captainchrisstan

@evansphnx12

[alygatorwrites]

y'all i have some serious stepbro!reiner brainrot so im sharing *not great at writing so bear with me plsss

imagine you just finished your assignment after downing your gazillionth cup of coffee and munching of every type of sugary thing available downstairs in the kitchen and you're fucking exhausted so you just decided to rest your eyes a little and lie down on the table just for a minute...

meanwhile his way to the bathroom, Reiner sees your door is open and peeks in, your door was never open when you slept. To his disappointment, he sees your empty bed and realises you're probably still downstairs working as he didn't hear you come back up

'silly girl', he mutters to himself as he pads down the stairs and walks into the kitchen to get you into bed, to sleep ofc duh, but he stops when he sees you all sprawled out on the kitchen table, face smushed into your arm, surrounded by mugs and paper. 'she's so adroable like this' he thinks, and as he walks closer, his eyes drift toward your lips looking all soft and pouty and perfect to bi-

he clears his head before something stupid happens from those thoughts and gently wakes you up, 'hey, wake up, you can't sleep like this'. To which you jolt up a little too quick and feel just how stiff your neck became, 'huh? mmfh, owww...' you mumble. Reiner's instantly by your side, closer than he needs to be when he enquires with a worried huff, 'you okay? you shouldn't have slept here...'

'm fine', you reply, standing up a little too quick and feeling instantly light headed, stumbling forward into Reiner's hard chest, only for him to catch you with those hunky, built, pretty arms of his. 'you're not fine. you shouldn't stay up so late, you're burning', his voice is laced with worry as his big hand feels your forehead and cheeks for a temperature. 'i said im fine, silly', you said, still clutching on to his shirt in your sleep-addled state, and eventually losing balance and stumbling back in the midst of avoiding his massive hands.

Reiner was quick to throw a strong arm around your waist to steady you but ended up pulling you in awfully close, too close as your sleeply self stared back at him, soft and perfect and so prett-- 'control yourself', he mentally berated himself and decided to do the right thing, the proper thing. 'you need to get to bed, now', he said in a firm tone, far different than the one he used earlier, whilst attempting to put some space between you two.

You frowned, quite adorably, Reiner mused, before you spoke, 'why do you do that?', leaning forward and keeping the gap between the two very non-existent. 'do what?', Reiner replied in an uninterested tone. 'this.' , you poked his big bicep and gestured to the two of you. 'you're unbelievably nice to me, and then out of nowhere you start acting completely...different, like someone flipped a switch on you'

you felt like you were whining but at this point you couldnt care less. you knew Reiner looked at you differently, knew his intentions behind every little harmless favor but hated the way he'd close up on you when he got too close. Reiner was quiet, and clearly shocked, as he didn't he was that transparent. was he? he was about to deny it before you asked, with glassy eyes and hushed voice, 'did i do something wrong, Rei?'

you pouted your lips, in part frustration and part wanting to fluster him even more, when Reiner replied in that same soft tone he used earlier, 'what? no, no, of course not. you didn't-'

'then why do you stop yourself?' this was it - you had him. you held his stare with your shiny eyes and watched the cogs turn as he grew more conflicted in front of you. Reiner could either deny it, feign ignorance or....embrace whatever hellish attraction you had towards each other.

Reiner's heart hammered in his chest. You knew. Fuck, you knew. He could feel his entire being come alive with pure desire as you stared at him, with your sleepy doe eyes, far smarter than he anticipated. Your lips had been in a sinful pout the whole time and it took everything in him not to kiss them to oblivion. He soon realised he'd been staring, like a goddamn fool, when your hand came up to his forehead, and then his cheek.

'look who's burning up now. maybe you should get to bed instead', you whispered, voice tainted with lust and hands lingering on his handsome face far longer than they needed to. Reiner couldn't take it anymore, not when you were teasing him like this.

Just as you decided to resign and started to push yourself away, Reiner's hand delved into your hair and slammed his mouth on yours, earning a squeak, followed by a sinful moan as his arm snaked round your waist even more. His tongue slipped past your lips, eating up any last traces of sleep as you craned up on your tiptoes and pulled his face down to you with a bruising grip. Soon, your toes didn't even touch the ground anymore as Reiner lifted you up onto the dining table in one swift motion, his strong arm caging you between the broad expanse of his chest.

Both of your hands were fast and desperate - pulling, tugging, grabbing at each other whilst the kiss you shared grew more and more breathless and elicited moan after moan. Reiner eventually pulled away as he cradled your face, thumb gliding over your pretty lips, eyes glazed with lust, as he said in a low voice, 'we should really get to bed'

*iron deficiency for the win lmao i had to cut this half because i got too carried away welp

OH MY GOD ANON PLEASE THIS IS SO FUCKING GOOD 😩😳what do you mean you're not good at writing???!!??? I WAS ENTHRALLED THE ENTIRE TIME !!! YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME WRITE A STEPBRO REINER FANFIC AT THIS RATE KDfkjhs;lhdfsdkhjf EVERYONE READ THIS!! i love you so much nonnie ❤️🥵

[amwritingmeta]

15x20: Oh fuck it’s actually really good. Dammit Dabb.

So I slept. And waking up the first thought in my head was... but there is this open ending with them all in Heaven and Cas not a stated angel even, just a helper to Jack...

And then I felt the need to watch the episode again. Because of how I’ve said, perhaps not for always, but often enough, that this show of ours was never about Destiel, was never about Dean and Cas’ love story, and beginning to hope that the ending would be focused on them... it wasn’t fair. Not really. And I remembered reading somewhere that a big chunk of the internet accepted Cas’ death as final, and seeing posts to that effect and thinking LUDICROUS and NO WAY and knowing all along that it could all be denial on my part.

And oh boy was it. 

I know there were plenty of us who kept that hope alive, and I’m thankful for you, but I made myself believe that he’d be back because I couldn’t imagine he’d die like that, or that the love story would end unreciprocated like that. And I guess, in a way, it still did, BUT... in another way, it really didn’t. 

It’s not enough. Subtext is not the representation I’ve always hoped for, but it wasn’t just erased either. And we got as much as we could get, because obviously Dean being textually bi and us getting an I Love You out of him was just never going to get green lit by the studio.

I’ve always believed the writers would’ve gone there if allowed. I think Cas’ love declaration underlines that they would’ve. But they weren’t given the opportunity, and I’ll lament it until the end of time, but it is what is.

What we did get, though, is quite beautiful. No, listen, IT IS.

There’s the emotional substitute Miracle Dog, getting so much LOVE from Dean, which I know most of us all went the big awwww at, no matter what we thought of the rest of the ep. 

There’s the healthy way Dean is dealing with the loss of Cas, and of Jack, knowing that pain will never go away, and accepting it. Accepting it because he’s feeling worthy of moving on without them. He’s no longer attaching his self-image to the perceived failure of protecting others. He’s letting them go, believing that they may meet somewhere further down the road.

But looking at the finale for what it is, rather than for what I wanted it to be (cardinal sin omfg my emotions really ran away with me and I wish I could’ve been more level headed and come on here with this positivity and calm) (but) (no dice) (anyway) it’s just beautiful how Cas is in the background, not waiting, not really, because he’s busy preparing Heaven and fixing his home in ways that will actually mean peace AND freedom when the brothers are done.

Something Cas would not have been able to do if he’d not fallen in love with Dean. If he’d not gone through his journey. I mean. Those implications are highly satisfying. 

Last night all I could think, ALL I could think, was that it’s not ENOUGH.

But it has to be. Because it’s not dismissive. It’s not erasing anything. It’s the same subtextual thread we’ve always been pulling on, and it’s there for us to continue to pull on, and that’s a goddamn gift.

I wish that 15x18 hadn’t been quite so in our face “kill your gays” buuuuuuuut that’s if you’re surface watching, yeah? Cas isn’t dead, for starters, and everyone was, obviously, brought back when Jack took Chuck’s power, so even if it wasn’t visually established that Stevie and Charlie are back and thriving, it’s narrative fact that they must be. What it is, more than anything else, is what I read it as to begin with: a love letter to the love story, where we get the subtext of couples loosing each other so strongly stated that there’s no way we’re not meant to understand that Dean losing Cas is within that exact same context.

We didn’t get textual Destiel, but we did get the love story textually confirmed through Cas’ declaration, and we did get it subtextually confirmed, not hinted, subtextually confirmed through all those other couples losing each other, that the love story EXISTS there, on that level, for us. 

Oh guys I feel so sad that I was so SAD yesterday. Why didn’t I just take a breath?? Guys, guys, guys, there’s such BEAUTY.

And Jensen.

Jensen in how he played that death scene. Jensen who kept it so even, so gentle, so... brotherly. These brothers have been through hell. Dean ending this way... it’s a travesty, but it also means he meant to go to the place where he doesn’t have to hope to see Cas again--because he will see Cas again.

And why didn’t Cas come right back to Dean once he was out of the Empty, why did he go off with Jack to fix Heaven?

I would say that it’s another underlining of Cas’ independence, and this his entire focus isn’t Dean, but, of course, I would assume the thought of Dean is ever present, and the rearranging of Heaven is as much about making sure Dean gets that freedom, as well as that peace, once he’s done as it is about Cas simply not being able to stand for souls being trapped in their memories anymore. Cas knows how to fix Heaven. I mean... that’s a fucking gorgeous and highly satisfying ending to his individual arc. And he’s with Jack!

Like. I mean. That implication that Cas is fixing Heaven with Dean at the back of his mind is quite head-exploding to me. And yeah, sure, that’s how I’m interpreting it, but all the ingredients for that delicious pie is left right there for us in this ending.

What about the legacy issue? What about found family? What about Dean finding happiness in death? What about Dean opening himself up to love?

Yeah, it’s not without issues, depending on how we interpret these things. Do I believe Dabb set out to write an offensive, horrifying, deeply problematic ending to this show and pretty much hand it over to the side of this fandom that has always been the... well, shall we say, less stabile? 

No. I kept saying yesterday that I just didn’t understand what happened, I didn’t understand why our writers room would choose THIS ending, I couldn’t fit the pieces together. That was on me, not on them. Get me?

Interpretation is deeply subjective. It’s personal. And it’s tainted. Always tainted, guys, and there’s no way around that. It’s not perfect and it’s not absolute and all the writers can hope for is that their core message will get across strongly enough to avoid misunderstanding.

I misunderstood the intention yesterday because my interpretation was tainted by what I wanted and felt I needed from this narrative.

For years I’ve refused to put expectation on the story because I know what that does to one’s perspective. It’s futile to engage with hopes and wishes on a deeper level because the show will never deliver exactly what you want. It’s delivered stuff in the ballpark enough times for me to dance alongside it, but to place so much expectation on this finale was just... oh man. Bad. 

I take full responsibility. :)

What about the legacy issue?

The legacy is that you live the best life you can and you end up in happiness, with the people you care about. You LIVE. Nothing about Dean’s death is prescribing dying to get what you want. We have it established that Dean is not suicidal in any way, that he’s mentally stabile and that he’s carrying on without Cas, even though he thinks about him. Not living would make the sacrifice pointless.

What about found family?

Found family was meant to be a part of this ending, but due to COVID (I’m assuming along with everyone) we didn’t get a collection of oldies and goodies at the Roadhouse. We got a father figure to signal the father/son thread that this finale was pulling on, a thread always tied so tightly around Dean and Sam and underlined for us in this episode. The codependency finally broken because they were ready to let each other go. Not forever, because that would’ve been tragic, but for now.

What about Dean finding happiness in death?

The implications of Dean having to die to be happy are quite dark, I know that, but he was never going to hang it up. Not entirely, right? He would never be able to rest on Earth. And he’s always afraid. So instead of spending a lifetime alone, growing into a crusty Bobby (who lost the love of his life too early too), Dean got to go to the place where his happiness actually is. He got to go where Cas is.

I mean, that’s my interpretation here, but rather than set both brothers up with a love life and families and all that, we got a Dean who’s lost the love of his life and is dealing with that loss as best as he can, but who is also ready to go when it’s his time. He wasn’t expecting it to be right then, that day, and he says as much, but he’s ready. As long as Sam is ready to let him go. And Sam isn’t, but he does, and Sam deals with that loss, and finds his way into life and living and loving and happiness in a way that Dean simply wouldn’t have been able to. Because he lost the love of his life.

And Dean waited for Sam to show because of course he would. Sam was the only thing missing: Cas, and Jack, and everyone else Dean has ever loved and cared about, were already in Heaven. For the show to go on, Sam had to return too.

Hope.

That hopeful ending that I, and so many, many of us, have always wanted. Sure, everyone’s DEAD, which, you know, bummer, but they are at peace, they are together, and they are done sacrificing, bleeding and dying. Isn’t that remarkable? Isn’t that the greatest reward? Love and happiness and togetherness. Forever!

And for this fandom, we got what we hoped we’d get, right? An ending open enough for us to keep returning to this narrative over and over and over.

Let me formally apologise for the despair of yesterday. For all of you still feeling it, I send you so much love. Know I understand, I honestly do, but I hope, perhaps, some of these words will offer a sliver of comfort.

So, this is first impression based on second watch of 15x20 positivity. Let me know if anything hits right or hits wrong and let’s talk. <3

[randomfandomimagine]

Reunion (Cloud Strife x Reader)

Characters: Cloud Strife, Zack Fair, Tifa Lockhart (feat. Jessie, Biggs, Wedge and others)

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Tags: Reunions, crossdressing, angst with a happy ending

Warnings: Mentions of death, spoilers for Crisis Core

Word Count: 4k words

Requested by anon: could you do a ficlet with a fem! reader for a Platonic!Cloud? my idea is where the reader was in SOLDIER (disguised as a guy) and when Hojo found out they kicked you out (quite violently). You were really close with Cloud and Zack, but once you were gone they thought they killed you. In other words I just want an angsty sweet reunion when he finds you working for avalanche back at the Seventh Heaven. (Points if you’re close with Tifa too). Thank you! I love your work so much! Ur a blessing ♡ 

A/N: I have never beat the original FFVII and I’m not sure what happens in canon with Cloud’s memories, so I took some artistic liberties to write this. Hope you enjoy!! Please please please give this some love, I worked so hard on it!!

Cloud Strife x Female Reader

_

[ B/N: Boy Name ]

.

Many terrors haunted Cloud. There were too many things he had lost, too many people he missed and too many burdens he carried. However, no matter how much he tried to forget them all or how tangled his mind was, one seemed to stand out: you. He had befriended you during his SOLDIER days, an unlikely friend in a strange place.

He vividly remembered you: the way your eyes twinkled when you spotted him, your shy smile and your gentle expression, the playfulness in your voice when you teased him. He thought of you fondly, one of the few things in his past that weren’t tainted by evil. Even then, you had still turned into a bad memory. Your mere existence made him sad because of your early demise. You had only ever been kind and still your fate was cruel and undeserved. Your only crime had been lying, and even that he wouldn’t blame you for. Others, however, found that sin to be unforgivable and punished you for it. With a sentence of death.

“Cloud?” Tifa called his name, bringing him back to reality. “Still with me?”

“Uh��� yeah” He straightened up, surprised upon realizing how crestfallen he had made himself with his own thoughts. “Lead the way”

“I’m excited” His friend smiled, leading him to the Seventh Heaven. “We finally get to meet our new member. Everyone has been so secretive about them”

“Why?” Cloud focused on trying to follow the conversation, even if his thoughts pulled him back to the past.

“They’re Avalanche’s secret weapon”

“Hm…”

Tifa, not really catching his disinterest, continued talking.

“Apparently they have some serious military training”

“Uh-huh…”

Her voice became a dull background noise as his thoughts drifted without remedy. Even if she kept speaking, he had stopped listening.

He had dreamt about you again last night, and his mind betrayed him by dwelling on your memory. Inevitably, he drifted off to past thoughts, to his SOLDIER days when everything seemed exciting. He felt insecure and unworthy, but he was willing to improve. He was prepared to work hard and make his way to 1st Class. Zack was constantly by his side, taking Cloud under his wing. You completed the trio, and he couldn’t help but to think back to when he met you.

A tall boy with dark hair and sky blue eyes stood in the training room, crossing his arms and watching how the new recruits finished their exercise. He noticed how one of them struggled more than the rest and was more than happy to give him a little hand.

“Hey, newbie” He walked over to a specific soldier who just then finished with the squats. “Need some help there?”

You shook your head, completely breathless after the exercise, and leaned back on your butt until you were sitting down. Joining SOLDIER had been your dream for a long time, wanting to become strong enough to be able to help people. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, just didn’t imagine it would be this hard and exhausting.

“Come on” He held his hand out for you to take. “We all need help sometimes”

With a sigh, you took his hand in yours and let him pull you up. Once you were standing on your feet, you leaned your hands on your knees. It was hard to catch your breath. Despite how athletic you were, this was on a whole new level.

When you dared to look up at the boy, you found him showing you a wide friendly grin. Beside him now was a blond guy, with kind blue eyes that went along with his meek expression.

“It’s okay” The blond muttered. “It takes a bit to get used to”

You nodded your head, managing a tired smile in appreciation. The other one observed you in a mixture between amusement and sympathy and patted your back.

“You did well for the first day” He told you. “What’s your name?”

“Uh…. B/N” You carefully watched his reaction, and your heart began racing in anticipation.

“B/N? Nice to meet you” Unaware of your nervousness upon introducing yourself, he offered you his hand. “I’m Zack, this is Cloud”

You shook his hand, and waved with the other one at his blond friend. He timidly reciprocated with a small wave.

“Tell you what, kid” Zack put his arm over your shoulders, and you tensed up. “I’ll keep an eye on you and help you out”

An irrational fear took over you, as it was the first time someone got so close to you. Even if you had managed to push your way into SOLDIER without arising any suspicions over yourself, you were afraid they would know. Your secret was far too important to air it out, and it could get you in trouble. Big trouble.

While you appreciated Zack’s offer, you feared his friendship too much. What if he found out who you really were? How would he react? Would he still be friendly if he knew? Would he give you in to the authorities to have you punished for daring to deceive everyone?

“Don’t overwhelm him….” Cloud bashfully defended you, definitely noticing your awkwardness.

“No worries, Cloudy” Zack brushed it off. “B/N here just needs to get out of his shell”

“We…” The other one added. “We can help you train if you want”

“That would be nice” You replied, purposefully making your voice deeper.

“That’s the spirit!” The dark-haired boy chuckled. “And relax, man, you’re so tense!”

You lowered your shoulders, which were almost up to your ears. Still, even if you were trying to act natural you couldn’t relax, you couldn’t stop being tense. Because what would happen if anyone at SOLDIER realized you were a girl?

-

You nervously tapped your foot against the ground. Although you had joined Avalanche a bit ago and were starting to get used to it, you still got jittery. Even after the mission was over, the nerves still conquered your stomach.

“I swear, Y/N!” Jessie tugged at your hand, making you look at her instead of that far off point that you were staring at without seeing it. “You’re gonna love him!”

“Am I?” You smiled at her, pretending not to be restless still.

That recent mission reminded you too much of SOLDIER. It was ironic that Shinra, the very thing you once were a part of and now were trying to escape, had become what you were fighting against, confronting it head-on. It seemed to haunt you even as you adamantly tried to bring it down. 

To make matters worse, Barret had announced to the group that they were calling their mercenary contact for the next mission. You hadn’t been with them long enough to have met him, because in those couple of days you had barely even grown accustomed to their company. 

Barret didn’t talk to you more than necessary, even if you could tell he was a big softie, especially when you saw him with his daughter Marlene. Biggs and Wedge had been kind and welcoming while still trying to give you some space. Jessie was the most outspoken, and clearly the one more determined to make you feel at home. It painfully reminded you of someone else whose personality was bubbly and extroverted that you had met in the past.

“For sure!” Her very voice snapped you out of your nervous thoughts again. “Cloud is the best, even if he likes to pretend like he’s a tough guy”

You tried not to wince at the mention of his name. How cruel was it that you ran into someone else called Cloud? A part of you had hoped it was the same Cloud you befriended in SOLDIER, but it just wasn’t possible. He must have become a SOLDIER, 1st Class like he wanted to. Who knew? You might even have fought him with Avalanche without realizing, unaware that his spiky blond hair and kind blue eyes were hidden under one of those helmets.

You shook your head. No. It just so happened that there was another Cloud in Midgard. It was too painful to get your hopes up for a sweet reunion… even if you had daydreamed about it countless times. Cloud and Zack had been so important to you… Fondly looking back at them, you hoped they were doing okay.

Zack’s laughter was contagious, and you couldn’t suppress a smile as you triumphantly stood up and towered over Cloud. Pouting a bit, he averted his gaze and didn’t move from the spot, sitting on the ground and leaning an elbow on his propped up knee.

“And the winner is… B/N!” Zack took your arm and lifted it up. “I knew you had it in you, kid”

Cloud still didn’t speak. His cheeks were a deep shade of pink, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of the squats you had beat him at or because of the embarrassment. Maybe both.

“Okay, Zack” You playfully pushed him off you, moving towards Cloud. “Stop torturing him”

“I’m not torturing anyone, he did great” Zack leaned down to pat his friend’s shoulder. “You just did better”

Even if you wouldn’t admit it out loud, a sense of pride bubbled in your chest. Boys were generally stronger than girls, but you had bested one of them after training hard for weeks on end. Still, you felt bad for Cloud and offered him a hand.

“No hard feelings?”

“Sure”

He smiled at you as you pulled him up, wobbling because of all his weight. Zack chuckled as he put his hands on your back to stabilize you.

“Who would have known a skinny guy like you would become such a good SOLDIER?”

The comment might have offended you when you first met him, but you knew Zack meant it as a compliment. After all, you would never forget the day you first met. You had felt helpless and not capable of making it in SOLDIER. You were shorter and smaller, but you didn’t let that stop you. Now you were stronger and resilient, even more so than some of the boys there.

The three of you gasped, startled, when the door to the training room suddenly swung open. In came Sephiroth, Hojo and Lazard, seemingly very angry and determined.

“No…” You uttered, with a nasty feeling in the pit of your stomach. What if…?

No, you had been very careful. It was impossible. You had disguised yourself to the point that not even Cloud and Zack discovered you despite being so close, despite spending so much time together. You had even found a way to avoid Hojo’s tests, knowing he would discover your identity if you got too close. They had no way of finding out… right?

“That’s her” Sephiroth pointed a finger at you, bearing no expression.

“Her?” Zack repeated, taking a step forward. “What’s going on?”

“B/N is an imposter!” Hojo accused, scowling at you. “She is a woman”

“What?” Your friend shook his head at them. “There must be a misunderstanding”

Terrified of what they might do, you took a few steps back. Cloud stood behind you, and you stepped right into him. His hands protectively fell on the small of your back, and when you looked up you found with his gentle blue eyes. They were so expressive. There was confusion in them, but also alarm and concern and fear all at once.

“Get her” Lazard said, and just then two soldiers appeared from behind him.

“No!” You screamed as they approached you. “Please!”

In your panic, you retreated more into Cloud and pressed yourself against his chest. You felt his fingers hold on to the fabric of your shirt.

“No, don’t touch him!” Zack insisted, helplessly watching as the soldiers reached you. “You’re making a mistake!”

You exclaimed as the soldiers reached you and took ahold of you. Cloud didn’t hesitate to hold on to you, tightly grabbing you by the arms.  The four of you struggled, but the soldiers were stronger.

“Stop that!” Zack begged them still, wincing at the sight of you.

Tears streamed down your face, knowing what awaited you if they took you. Now screaming, you were calling anyone for help. Cloud was your last hope as you tightly clung on to him, but they separated you from him.

“No!” He joined Zack in his attempts. “Stop it!”

“Lazard, please! I’m sure B/N isn’t-“ The brunette’s words were suddenly interrupted.

“Then what’s this?” Hojo showed them a picture, and everyone grew silent.

It was you in the photo, without a doubt. Before you cut your hair, before you hid your breasts and took all necessary precautions to pass as a boy. 

The chaos that had erupted in the room suddenly came to a halt, replaced by a heavy awed atmosphere to replace the previously frantic one.

“What…?” Cloud uttered, watching you in astonishment.

“You’re a girl…” Zack said as well, even though is voice was a mixture of sadness and understanding. 

“Don’t just stand there!” Hojo urged the soldiers, who came back to their senses.

“Take her” Lazard insisted when his subordinates turned to him for confirmation.

Shaking from head to toe, you let yourself be grabbed by them. Your mind was racing, frozen with the reminder of your friends faces. They weren’t angry, they didn’t feel betrayed. They were only surprised. You had been too scared to tell them, but now you realized you could have. How could you have doubted them?

“Wait…” Cloud stuttered as tears reached his eyes. “Wait, don’t… don’t hurt her!”

“Sephiroth…” Zack desperately called. “Sephiroth, do something! Don’t let them take her!”

The 1st Class Soldier didn’t say anything. He only turned around as you were dragged away from your friends. Sephiroth glanced down and faced his back to them.

You tensed up when you heard a cry full of rage, followed by Zack throwing himself to them. Cloud made to move, wanting to support his friend, but he was still too taken aback by the situation to act.

Obeying a gesture from Lazard, two more soldiers entered the room and intercepted Zack. He struggled against them, fighting to return by your side and save you.

“Don’t!” You pleaded, letting yourself use your natural voice for the first time in months. “Don’t do this, Zack”

“I don’t care if you’re a boy or a girl, I won’t let them-”

“Let me go” You shook your head, trying to put an end to his endeavor. “Don’t get hurt because of me”

You quickly glanced at Cloud behind him, noticing how his eyes were drowned in tears. He was still frozen in place, prey of an overwhelming shock and uncertainty. The sight made your own tears overflow, staining the track that the old ones left again.

“Take care…” You whispered to him, trying to memorize his face. A last comfort before you met your end.

Cloud parted his lips, but they only shook as no words left them. A tear rolled down his cheek, and it was too painful to keep looking at him. Glancing at Zack, you realized he was now just as heartbroken. He had given up, understood that it was impossible to fight for you.

Accepting your fate, you began moving. You exited the room and heard the door loudly closing behind you. A ruckus broke out inside it as Zack still fought against them. A second person had joined him in his outrage, and you sobbed knowing it was Cloud.

You walked directly behind Sephiroth, who walked beside Hojo and Lazard. As you were taken with them, Sephiroth’s long silver hair and his broad back was etched in your memory. It would be one of the last things you’d see. Just like the voices of your dear friends would be one of the last things you’d hear as they called out for you, by the fake name they knew you by but still begging for your life.

Even if you trusted them, you had been too afraid to completely expose yourself to them. What would have happened if you did? What would have happened if you told them you were a girl? A part of you had always known the answer: they would have protected you. Zack and Cloud cared about you, not because you were a boy or a girl or anything else… they cared about you because they were your friends... because you were their friend.

You hadn’t trusted them with your secret. You had been too afraid to tell them. And know they would have to live with your death.

-

Everything seemed oddly silent, as if the usual sounds had dimmed slightly. There was the murmur of voices inside the bar, but no loudness. Cloud’s boots seemed to echo as his feet moved over the wooden steps that led to the entrance. Even Tifa, who seemed so talkative, had grown quiet. Cloud brushed that feeling off, assuming it had more to do with his thoughtful mood. Everything was normal.

When he came in, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Barret played with Marlene, Biggs and Wedge talked and laughed, and Jessie was high-fiving someone she was talking to.

“Hello!” Tifa cheerfully greeted everyone, gathering their attention.

You looked up to find out who that mysterious merc was. The sun behind him shadowed his slim figure as well as the curvier one that accompanied him. Mildly curious, you kept your gaze glued to them as they walked in. Once the door closed behind them, your eyes grew used to the light and you could see them properly.

The woman was slightly familiar, but you didn’t pay mind to her as she walked behind the bar. It was the man who you were more interested in. When you took a good look at him, your heart skipped a beat.

That merc, that man allegedly called Cloud, walked in without noticing you. His eyes had fallen on you, but there was no recognition in them. Barret was telling the newcomer something, but you didn’t hear.

Surely, your mind was playing tricks on you, and that man looked more like Cloud to you than he actually did. Of course, it wasn’t him. It was an amazing coincidence that on top of the name he also had spiky blond hair, but that was the only similitude with your memory of Cloud. This man before you was cold and rough, nothing like the sweet, meek and shy boy you knew. His eyes were also greener than you remembered. Still, the more you stared at him, the more you realized… it was Cloud. Despite the change in his demeanor, in his eyes, in the way he carried himself, in his entire persona... it was Cloud, the one you knew years ago. The one whose face you had tried to memorize as you resigned yourself to your death.

Destiny was capricious. You had survived and you had escaped. He had too. And now you were together again. You both had followed similar paths.

“Y/N?” Biggs called you, gently shaking your shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah, you just got very pale” Wedge’s words seemed to alarm the rest as well.

Everyone turned to you, but you only had eyes for one of them. Your feet moved on their own as you approached Cloud with determination.

“What the hell?” He whispered, frowning as you directly went over to him.

“Cloud” You threw your arms around his neck, feeling too happy and relieved to see him to realize his reaction. “It’s so good to see you!”

“What’s going on?” He spoke up, his voice sounded annoyed as his arms lifted a little trying to avoid touching you. “Do I know you?”

“You…” Slowly pulling away, you stared into his eyes. “You don’t recognize me?”

Cloud hesitated, and so did you. His voice was so… deep, so irritated and so harsh. He really felt nothing like the boy you had known. What had happened? He changed so much…

Your vulnerable expression seemed to snap something in him, because his eyes suddenly grew wide. His mouth fell agape, staring at you as though you were a ghost.

“B/N?” He uttered, recognizing your features despite never having seen you as a girl. Except that one time in that picture, when he thought it would be the last. “You’re alive?”

“B/N, is that really you?” The woman who had walked in with him uttered from behind the bar. It finally clicked why she was so familiar. If that was indeed Cloud, that had to be…

“Tifa!” You ran to each other, colliding in a warm hug accompanied by breathless tearful chuckles.

Despite not being close, you had known Tifa through Cloud and Zack. She had always been kind and friendly and you were so glad to see her, comforted by her familiar face and warm demeanor.

“You look good as a girl” She joked, breaking away to take a good look at you.

“Thanks, I-“ You began to say, but were interrupted by a deep voice.

“B/N” Cloud said, staring at you as though you were the only person in the room. Despite the emotion in his eyes, his expression remained neutral. “That’s not your real name, is it?”

“No…” You whispered, suddenly feeling a lump in your throat. “It’s Y/N”

“Y/N…” He repeated, nodding his head in deep thought.

The temperature of the room seemed to fall drastically. Something in his tone was ice cold. The silence was absolute, only interrupted by the noise coming from the windows, a reminder that life went on outside of the bar.

“Um… you’ll explain everything later” Biggs muttered, standing next to the pinball machine. “Seems like you need a moment alone”

“Yup, leave you guys to it!” Jessie awkwardly said, sinking into the secret room. One by one, all of her friends followed until you were alone with Tifa and Cloud.

“We have a lot of catching up to do” Tifa sweetly smiled, returning behind the bar. “I’ll prepare some drinks”

You and Cloud stood before one another. His eyes never once left you, looking you up and down as though trying to make sure that you were actually there, that you were real and not one of his many dreams.

“Well…” You awkwardly said, needing to break that suffocating silence. “Where’s Zack?”

Cloud suddenly grimaced, groaning and clutching his head. Concerned, you were about to lean in and put a hand on his arm, but ultimately decided not to do it. You still weren’t sure he wasn’t mad at you. After all, you kept an important secret from him. You lied to him and pretended to be someone you were not. All of this was something you didn’t know he could forgive and you were too scared that he would push you away.

“B/N… I mean, Y/N?” Tifa called, and so you glanced at her. She only shook her head.

The air suddenly left your lungs as you understood what that somber gesture meant. A sob got caught in your throat at the realization. You had been lucky enough to reunite with Cloud, but you would never be able to see Zack again.

Turning back to the blond, you wondered the impact this had on him. After all, he and Zack had been very close and when you left, believing you were dead…

“Oh!” You gasped when a force suddenly made you stumble.

Confused, you paused to notice Cloud’s arms wrapped around you. They urgently pressed you against his chest. An invisible weight seemed to be lifted off your chest as you accepted and treasured his embrace with a sigh of relief.

“I’m glad you’re okay…” He whispered, and in his voice you recognized that softer tone you had been used to. The old Cloud seemed to be shining through the cracks as the new fake Cloud fell apart.

He was breathing heavily, squeezing you against him so tightly that he was hurting you. In spite of it all, you didn’t have the heart to complain. You almost couldn’t breathe, but it could have been because you were starting to sob.

“You too” You cried against his shoulder, now bawling your eyes out as you clung on to his shirt and he held you still.

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn​ / @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ / @anxiouslyreckless​ / @xionroxas​ / @dancewaterdance02​ / @little-faerie-artist​ / @x-joie-x​ / @honeybunhanbin​ / @legallyblindgamer727​ / @lotsoffandomstoimagine​ / @imaginealllthefandoms​ / @fandomatakeover18​ / @goodmorningawfulbye​ / @trunks-kiwi​ / @lostiintheocean​ // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, send me an ask!! // Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[puppy-phum]

pingxie thoughts (and prayers) bonus 2/2

continuation for this post where i try to make sense of all the visuals offered to us in the amazing bazaar photoshoot. had to divide the bonus part of this series into two bc of the amount of photos and my own tendency to write novels (even while excluding the video clips). hopefully these can offer you all at least something (more than just an eyeroll at my pretentious poetry). 

side note: the photos from the digital magazine (the ones without a watermark) belong to @/thosch3i who i very much want to thank you for all the updates and translations ♥

The Bazaar Photoshoot – Future Dream

As stated in the first part of this “analysis”, the theme of this photoshoot was the Pingxie ten years reunion. I already managed to get through the “ideal reality” photos, so now it’s time to delve into the “future dream” in the remaining ones. These seem to offer a deeper look into Pingxie’s actual relationship during the reunion and how their past and future meet in that moment. 

(placing under cut bc this gets long with all the photos!) 

These photos really challenged me to think outside the box. Bc the obvious answer would’ve just been me screaming “Pingxie married!” on top of my lungs but that’s not really something I’m aiming at quite yet. So I decided to call this pile of photos “the (future) dream” instead, which I think suits it quite well. Just let me try to explain why. 

Beginning with these two teaser photos where we first see their matching rings and then their matching necklaces. A lot of eternal promises and unbreakable bonds and soulmate symbolism here (my left brain: but Pingxie married!!! me: shush, not now). I feel like these photos in general show many of those themes, try to catch their bond and the deepest essence of their relationship. This is some type of core, them in their purest form, far outside of actual reality now.

The black and white colors make these photos feel even more like they’re part of a dream or a fantasy or a memory almost. Maybe it is about the things they now have and the things they have lost. Maybe it’s black and white bc things have changed but they still want the same things; they still have their bond and things still make sense. (Maybe I sob about this bc I’m just so weak and Pingxie soulmates, it’s confirmed now!)

Also gotta mention here – bc I will allow myself this one moment of gushing – that Pingxie in black and white, ZSX and XYL in these suits (both suits), is sinful. Absolutely sinful. But also stunning. And so soft. And well, what else could be more symbolic than making Wu Xie wear white and Xiaoge wear black? Tho I think that together, they have always been turning a bit gray. (And how many times did I read that as “gay”? Which,,, still true but. Not the point here.)

At this point am also fighting against my urge to talk about the video clip that dropped with the weibo update on the 1st of March and all the hand action we got in that. Bc I just loved how they played with each other’s hands and the snow and kept looking at their hands together in that clip. It felt like an inaudible love confession. And maybe these photos are just that; a voiceless, wordless way to say “I love you”. Neither of them is good with words anyway and the love is so loud am going deaf. I hope they’re happy. 

But if we forget that video, I want to pay attention to the poses in these photos. They are sitting or lying down together, Wu Xie’s head on Xiaoge’s shoulder, Xiaoge’s face almost buried in Wu Xie’s hair or at least turned his way. It feels domestic. There is nothing but them. There is nothing else to care about in this world than them being together and this closeness they share after all the time without it. It’s what they want; this very intense focus on each other (and if that doesn’t scream love to you then I don’t know what to say). It’s a little bit like the ideal reality I talked about in the previous post but even more intense and somehow so much more open which makes me think about this as a “dream” or at least a fantasy of sorts. 

Then in the two photos above, we again have Wu Xie looking at the camera while Xiaoge is focusing on him. It feels almost like Xiaoge is a prop here, all the focus placed on Wu Xie who is, unlike in that intense photo in the previous post, smiling. Slightly, but still. He looks soft, content, happy. He’s okay to be the center of all this attention bc he knows that it will take it away from Xiaoge (and omg I know yall whine now that such a thing is impossible with XYL’s beauty but just humor me for a bit). He’s so relaxed bc he knows that Xiaoge is content right next to him. (He might also be a bit smug bc he has a man like that but can anyone blame him?) 

I have to note then that, after gushing about their outfits and how good they look in them, there also seems to be a deeper meaning to these suits. Because I don’t think it’s an accident (or a thirst trap) that in these whole-body pictures where they lie in the snow, we see their chests and they’re bare-footed. It feels like this is them being bare in general, open. Their chests show bc their hearts are open, feet are bare bc they are vulnerable (and when you google symbolism for being bare-footed, Wikipedia hits you with childhood and innocence so yes, they are innocent here, pure, like they wish to be). This is them being true and honest with each other, offering all those parts of themselves to the other to look at which they never previously had the courage to show. 

At least that’s true in this dream, in this future they hope will become reality one day. In this future that, for now, ignores all the difficulties and obstacles between them (bc they have a lot of stuff to sort out and then Reboot happens and. Yeah well, the future never goes as you planned anyway).

Sitting and shoes on now, we then have Wu Xie offering this almost angry look to the viewer. He might be sitting slightly behind Xiaoge and lower than him but he’s the one who seems powerful here. Xiaoge looks almost childish (which might be just XYL’s personality showing through lol) and is focused on his own hands, the ground, and his shoes/legs. It feels like this is Wu Xie being the one aware for once, being the one who carries their worries, the one who sits there protecting Xiaoge so that Xiaoge can finally focus on something else. So that Xiaoge can be free and a little careless. That he can focus on himself and what he wants after giving so many years away for Wu Xie and his (at this moment non-existent or at least tainted) innocence. This is their dream; or at least Wu Xie’s dream bc somehow this whole photoshoot seems to focus on him instead of Xiaoge (like I stated before, he seems like a prop sometimes haha). 

In contrast to that thought and the previous photos, this one actually puts Xiaoge on display tho. He’s at the front, in the middle of the photo, and if you don’t get distracted by Wu Xie’s eyes (hard, I know), then you most likely focus on Xiaoge and get stuck there. It feels intentional, like Wu Xie’s strong protective instinct is somehow left a bit hidden? Behind Xiaoge? Who is usually seen as the protector? Which is interesting imo bc at this point Wu Xie has learned to be very brutal, and in Ultimate Note (and before that), we see him being very fierce when it comes to him protecting those he loves. So this setting between them feels a bit like a dream too, a dream where Wu Xie has been able to pull away a little bc Xiaoge is alright while facing the world again. Xiaoge is not as vulnerable as someone who doesn’t know who he is and who to trust. He has found his place to be.

Then the two photos that confused me the most bc at first they felt like they didn't fit at all? They just felt... weird, even if they look absolutely stunning. Here we have Wu Xie and Xiaoge dressed in their second pair of suits (if these can be called suits?) with Xiaoge in this long cape thing and his arms half bare. Wu Xie’s outfit seems almost too simple compared to everything else he’s worn, and they are both now facing towards the same direction while previously they were either looking at each other, away from each other or, in Wu Xie’s case, the viewer. 

Maybe these pictures were why I finally came to think about these as “the future” instead of just some type of “dream”.

Because in these pictures it feels like they are actually looking towards the future. Especially in this last photo they are both facing the light, side by side, in these clothes that feel almost like they’re… I don’t even know. Purified? Divine? Heavenly? Please excuse my lack of words but this just feels like that, like some kind of final peace where even their clothes are somehow on a higher level. It’s a dream-like future where they both can stand strong and be together forever, finally. (Also makes me think about how we see their rings in these pictures, like a sign of the bond they have formed and the bond they want to form (my left brain again: Pingxie married!!!! and this time am tired of arguing against that).) 

And if we add the other photo up there, where they are slightly turned towards each other, sharing a look almost, it feels like they have decided to go. Like this is a mutual choice of walking forward, some kind of turning point like the last photo was in the previous post. They are going and the future is at their reach and it’s going to be amazing (or at least I believe so, once again, bc they deserve their happy ending).

What are we then left with? With a future that includes them being at peace, being content with each other and the surrounding world. A future that is, probably, more from Wu Xie’s point of view than Xiaoge’s but still so utterly loving for the both of them (bc what else would Wu Xie want than happiness for Xiaoge?). And then if we connect this to the other photos in the first part, this feels almost like that ideal reality coming to life in their future, that closeness and joy and basking in the other’s presence stretched to cover an eternity. It’s so soft and gentle and sweet. Just like Pingxie are always. And I’m not even surprised that their future includes all of this bc what else could they wish for than the final relief of being together?

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Lifeline - aka Ahsoka reaching out for Anakin post Malachor Oneshot

There was a sudden flicker.

So distant, so weak and wavering a gleam that she just might have thought it to be a fallacy, a trick of the mind. Her imagination willing it into existence. If that had been all, she might have ignored it. Might have denied it, might have told herself it was only an illusion. That it was only her weary state conjuring hope into her aimless life.

Until it sparked again.

Persistent, as it traced the periphery of her senses like the appearance of an unexpected, old friend. Not calling out to her in particular, but rather to anyone. To anything familiar, perhaps even unknowing of the fact that its was writhing in despair. Screaming for recognition, for comfort, for notice. Stumbling in the dark for a lifeline to cling to.

Ahsoka's chest felt inexplicably tight, as she allowed herself to taste the presence, so size it up. From afar, it seemed so much more like the man she'd once known. The man she remembered, the man she no longer recognized.

Anakin.

She hesitated, knowing that to invite him meant danger. Meant he may be able to locate or pinpoint her, however well she'd conceal her tracks. Opening up to the Force these days, with the Empire's shadow looming over the Galaxy, always came with horrible repercussions. Yet, even with that in mind, she couldn't deny him. She had promised him she’d stay.

Ever since Malachor, ever since she'd lost touch with the Rebellion, she'd found herself restless. Unable to stay in one place for too long, constantly glancing over her shoulder. On alert, highly strung. Barely able to sleep, for fear of Inquisitors finding her in the night. At the same time, she had expected to die that day. Had been set on staying beside him til the bitter end, even if it may be by his hand.

His hands were drenched in figurative blood. His conscience black and charred with sin, bearing the weight of countless innocent lives snuffed out. All for what?

She couldn't understand how the gentle, sensible, nurturing man she'd once known could have fallen so far from grace. But, as the tainted yet distinct Force signature she'd once felt such a kinship with reached out blindly for aid; she responded. What else was there to live for, if not him? He was the last link to her past; their shared past. As if reaching out her hand, she grasped at his unseen, extended conscience. When a cold, sodden weight settled at the pit of her belly she was convinced she had made contact.

"Anakin."

She breathed the name, trepidation colouring her tone as the words carried over the established bond. She felt the tremor as the connection wavered, as if the man himself was now hesitant. Or perhaps her initial assumption that the cry for solace hadn't been intentional had been right all along. Still, she shut her eyes as she latched firmly onto his signature, to his aura.

It was so much colder than she remembered it, so much darker. All harsh edges, and prickling tendrils of agony sinking deep into her core like grappling hooks. Daggers, greedily burrowing into whatever they could find. None of the warmth he had radiated in the past persisted. The only thing remaining a constant was the uncertainty, the bottomless anguish.

'I’m not good enough, I will never be good enough'; he had once said in a moment of emotional overload. His entire Force signature seemed to be vibrating with that unspoken sentiment now. As if his entire psyche was made only of suffering and pain and doubt, as if that was all there was to him. All that was left of him.

"Anakin," she attempted again, firmer this time - demanding.

She refused to let him slip away.

She knew he wouldn't want her to call him by his real name, so few of those who knew his secret left alive. She should be proud that she had lived to see another day, if only by the help of a friend. Had Ezra not found a miraculous way out, she too would pile onto the heap of his victims.

Her shoulders slumped in near relief, as some of her tension wore off when she was greeted more openly by the presence. So he was intending to stick around. She allowed him to pry into her mind, channeled distinct happy memories towards him. Albeit buried deep beneath the surface, she knew he too must be able to recall the moments when presented with them. Memories of them together, fighting side by side or throwing teasing quips at each other. All while she was still under his tutelage. While she would still look upon him as her older brother, as her guardian, as her master.

"I no longer respond to that name."

That stung.

Ahsoka had known he would reject it, but she'd hoped he would accept it for what it was just this once. They both knew his new name was nothing but a title, nothing but a mask to hide behind. Nothing but a facade. It helped make him anonymous, helped in washing away all his crimes. He had been a hero once, before donning the suit and mask. Before the Dark Side sunk its claws into him. Before he was twisted into but a shadow of himself.

Even worse, was the fact that his voice came out clear now.

Without the use of actual sounds and syllables, without the vocoder translating his words for him. Without the forced diction, much less monotone. Even with the different speech pattern he’d picked up, the differing pronunciation - the voice was human.

Distant, icy, dismissive. But it was not the mechanical baritone - it was the voice of the terrified, insecure young man she'd once known. The same voice that had spoken to her on Malachor, as one blood shot, golden Sith eye peered through the cracked face plate of his mask.

"It's the name your mother gave you."

There was no response to that, only a wave of pure rage accompanied by the undercurrents of hurt and distrust. Indignation, as if he was questioning how she dared bring up Shmi Skywalker so casually. She had said that with the intent of wounding him, of reopening his scars. She had succeeded, but she took no pleasure in that knowledge. She wasn't out to harm him, although she probably should.

"What do you want?"

Now, it was Ahsoka's turn to squirm. She wasn't sure what she wanted per se. She had responded to the cry, perhaps expecting him to deny her. Perhaps expecting him to turn her down, to turn away, to shut her out. Now that he was acknowledging her, she found herself lost. She had so many questions, but none seemed reasonable to ask. She didn't imagine he would reply to them even if she tried.

"You knew I survived," she found herself blurting out, an overpowering melancholy clouding her judgment before she could reign herself in.

A pause, as if he was contemplating. Or perhaps, it was a silent admission of guilt.

"I could not be entirely certain."

He was lying.

She knew he was, she knew him too well. She could feel it, could sense the dishonesty behind the careless statement. He was dismissing it as a lapse of faith on his part, but she knew better. She shook her head into the emptiness, he must know she wouldn't believe him.

"Why? I know who you are. Both who you were before, and who you are now. It's not like you to keep those aware of your identity alive."

“A simple oversight on my part. It shall not be repeated, take that into consideration. Be grateful.”

“You’re lying. I know you are,” she pressed.

"You are mistaken. You have never known me."

"That's not true. You know it's not true, you're only denying it to yourself," snapped Ahsoka sharply, her frustration slipping through the cracks.

She'd known he would behave this way, known he would be stuck in denial. Why had she hoped for anything else? She suspected he dreaded what might happen if he did admit to who he was, if he did admit to the fact that even now, he was the same man. That there was no phantom of malice possessing him to commit atrocities.

That it was all on him.

Ahsoka herself had wanted to ignore the truth for so long, had been desperate to accept his proclamation of having killed her old master, had longed to stay blissfully unaware. Had tricked herself into believing he was right, that there was nothing left of the Anakin she'd loved.

But she knew better, she'd stared into his uncovered eye. Into his bared soul. She'd looked into his mind, peered behind the fortified walls of torment and turmoil - and there hid the same, frightened boy who'd grown up as a slave on Tatooine. She feared he denied because admitting the truth would destroy what was left of his sanity, as much as it had crushed hers when she'd allowed herself to take in reality.

There was no Darth Vader.

There never had been. There was only the pitiful being Palpatine had twisted Anakin Skywalker into, more machine than man. Less than human, so much less than he had been.

There was only Anakin. And he must sense her stubborn wish to force the same epiphany onto him.

"Still as foolish, and naïve. You cannot appease me with your affections towards a dead man. Skywalker was weak, indeed his apprentice appears to be no better off."

In another lifetime, such a degrading statement would have insulted Ahsoka. When she was still quick to anger, following the whim of her rebellious emotions before reason. Now, all the words inspired was sorrow. The fact that he was referring to himself as weak, as feeble, as insufficient. The jab at her meant nothing; the one aimed at himself not as easily overlooked.

"You weren't weak. You never were. I may not know or understand why you've become... this, but whatever the case, I refuse to believe it was a choice you made out of your own volition. I refuse to believe you could commit to such evil without a good cause, without sensible justification. You always had a way out of trouble, Palpatine must have manipulated you beyond comprehension. He must have backed you into a corner, and extorted you!"

"You know nothing."

It was a warning Ahsoka didn’t heed to.

“What did he say, Anakin? What did he do to put you of all people on a leash?”

“Silence.”

Another tremor through their bond, and this time she feared he would block her out. That she had crossed the line too far; that she had been too bold, too daring. That she would once more appear only as a dot on his hit list, as an enemy of the state. Up for elimination, standing to be eradicated. The command was no longer an insinuation, as much as a promise. The one word urged her to recuperate, and try again coming at him from a different angle.

Still, he hadn't rejected her use of his real name this time. The importance of that wasn't lost on her.

“I just don’t understand. You were always so kind, so caring. You were invaluable. To me, to Rex, to the entire 501st, to Obi Wan...” she paused before adding, “to Padmé--"

"Do not speak her name, you do not deserve to take it in your mouth!"

Ahsoka shuddered and recoiled as if slapped when he raised his voice.

“You know nothing of her, or of me. Learn your place and watch your step closely. You have crossed the line more than once, you do not wish to press me any further.”

The delivery was so vile, so full of livid fury and loathing that it made her stomach reel. Made her feel dizzy, nauseous, faint. Her forehead clammy, her chest tight. The fact that the mere mention of Padmé's name could conjure up such unbridled rage was both shocking, confounding, and heartbreaking.

Ahsoka had been outright aware of the involvement between senator Amidala and her former master, had caught hints at their intimacy. She'd liked the senator, viewed her much as an older sister and a good friend. Her master's high opinions of her had been enough for Ahsoka to accept and appreciate the woman. She wasn't stupid, she'd understood there was more than a friendship between the two. Even when the senator tragically passed, the event made public to the Galaxy after the fall of the Republic, she had mourned a friend and a fellow candidate of democratic justice. She suspected the sudden death had more to do with what Anakin had become than would ever be revealed.

"What happened?" she finally softly inquired when she spoke again.

"It is beyond your concern, and shall remain that way."

His arrogant, uninterested approach was back. Dismissing her offer of comfort, of consolation, of someone to listen to his side of events. Of forgiveness. Ahsoka couldn't say she'd be unbiased, but she longed to understand. Longed for that final puzzle piece that would put it all together. That would explain his descent into what could only be described as madness.

"Please," she pleaded, aware of the disappointment and forlorn sadness she was radiating into the ether, pouring into their Force bond.

"Please, Anakin."

Just for a moment, something shifted. The change so vague, it would have been undetectable if she didn't know him so well. So closely, so thoroughly. His carefully composed facade cracking, just enough for her to glimpse what lay inside.

“I can’t.”

The bitter, freezing cold of darkness that had pierced every fiber of her being throughout their conversation abated with those words. Left was only a void; so vast and deep and harrowing that it would haunt her nightmares for the remainder of her life. A loneliness so stifling, a guilt so crippling, it left an excruciating, hollowing ache in its wake. She blinked rapidly against the involuntary tears welling up to blur her vision, choked up and speechless. This torment wasn't hers, it had only been lent to her, extended into her psyche. Laid bare for her, as a truce. As a silent plea not to ask any more.

The searing wound left behind, however; that was her cross to bear. She had wanted him to share, and this was the price to pay.

"You cannot save me, Ahsoka," he begged with such regret, that she could almost see his pained expression.

Before Ahsoka could protest or properly process it, before she could cling to him and keep their connection up - he was gone. Those steadfast, blue eyes of her memory etched into the back of her head. Along with the fading touch of his Force signature. Trembling, she heaved an unsteady sigh before covering her face to weep, grieving the man who would not mourn for himself. There was no one else to put the blame on.

There was no Darth Vader.

Only Anakin Skywalker, who suffered in constant anguish.

And that was the worst part.

--------------

This was intended as another chapter for Mask of Death, but I believe it works better as its own standalone piece. I wanted to write something for Anakin/Vader and Ahsoka, and Ahsoka’s POV is always fun to play around with - especially since she’s the only one besides Luke to really accept that Anakin is still Anakin, even while he calls himself Vader.

So, I hope you enjoy my spin on the idea of them conversing post Malachor!

Link to Ao3 version below, and subsequently my account:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25578304

Lose Companion to Ablaze:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25636756

https://stuffilikeipostno2.tumblr.com/post/634786811339816960/ablaze-aka-obi-wan-learns-the-truth-about-what

[dboliklover]

Tainting The Angel So That She Falls - Kanato

You were an archangel

Brilliant and strong - caring and motherly.

You spent centuries caring for the sweet naive humans.

You viewed them as your children if you were perfectly honest.

Angels weren’t permitted to reproduce amongst themselves. Creation was not what you were made for; just protecting and caring for the created.

And that was just what you did. Humans were your babies - your beloved children.

Even when they made mistakes - you forgave them, just as you were supposed to - supposed to lead them all back into the light.

When the other angels argued that humanity was a plague, you intervened and defended them, trying to explain the fact that good and evil co-existed inside of humans. They were morally grey beings - never fully good and never fully evil.

But others did not listen to you, no matter how hard you tried - and it upset you terribly to know some angels hated these poor, pitiful humans.

It was true; humanity was growing increasingly terrible and it caused a great plight within your heart - and so you were relentless with trying to save humans - when disasters happened you swooped in, tried to save as many as possible - you tried to defend abused children, and when someone had a growing evil in their soul you attempted to cleanse it from them, sadly not always with a full success rate.

Some humans, you realised, could not be saved from their own ambitions, greed and their love for sinning.

It upset you, greatly, because your capacity for love was unlike that of anyone else - angelic, human, or demonic. You loved intensely, wholly - love consumed you.

It was the fuel that burnt inside your golden heart - you breathed love, created it wherever you could and encouraged it in all shapes and forms.

Who would have ever thought that this all-consuming ability to love unconditionally would only bring about your fall from grace itself?

You loved so much that your love extended from humans - to every hurt creature. From humans to animals - and soon, you would find, to even creatures of the darkest nights.

A holy being such as yourself was kept far from the creatures of darkness until you weren’t.

At a church - seemingly abandoned - you met a boy. He looked younger than he was, you found out - but he held some traits you found adorable and carried around the sweetest teddy bear. But he did seem more than slightly...unhinged.

He didn’t seem to immediately realise who - or what - you were, and you were hesitant once you realised his aura was vampiric. The whole situation was surreal and the conversation was mostly you apologising for trespassing in an area that he clearly was protective over, and gently assured him you meant no harm.

You could also tell he was immensely troubled. The sorrow and trauma practically flowed from him, spiritually, and you felt distraught at the prospect, so you did what you always did - you attempted to save him from himself.

Maybe it was wishful thinking and you were incredibly foolish for it - you knew you were incredibly foolish for it - and yet, despite this, you felt hopeful. Hopeful that you would be able to save this vampire from the traumas of his best.

Your good heart was driving you into committing yourself to an insane task that was going to cost you everything.

He was understandably hesitant around you at first, making cruel, bitter remarks and trying to creep you out - fortunately for you, there were only few things in this world that scared you and vampires certainly weren’t a part of it.

If you could help humans - maybe you could also help an emotionally wounded vampire, too?

From then on you tried to find ways to help heal his broken shards and put him back together again - and for a while, you thought it was working. Gradually he started to become more honest with you, though his brashness never faded.

It felt like you were making real progress.

But you had no idea the dark, disgusting things Kanato Sakamaki was thinking about in his mind each time he saw you. Thoughts about how pretty you were - how you would make a surely perfect bride-doll for him if given the chance to turn you into a part of his growing collection of beauty.

It was endearing though - and though he wouldn’t admit it, having someone so caring and motherly here for him, comforting him...it was what he never had with Cordelia and he enjoyed your company far too much to turn you into a snow-dressed doll.

You were good to him, and with time his intentions to take the light from your eyes turned into an internalised childish desire to keep you with him. He hated when you weren’t there - he hated how attached he felt.

You made him weak and vulnerable and you needed to take responsibility and stay here with him, forever. He needed your attention or he felt like he would die.

Fury coated his bones as he thought of the prospect of you ever leaving. Ever betraying him and hurting him as his birth mother had. Clenching tightly onto teddy, Kanato felt angry tears well in his eyes at the idea of life without you in it - or worse, a life where you would end up abandoning him.

He wouldn’t let you!

You couldn’t leave, you couldn’t abandon him and leave him by himself.

It started getting harder to leave, from then on. Every time you had to say goodbye to him and go back to your home in the skies, he would throw a tantrum - each one far more violent than the last. It made you pity him further - but it also frightened you, but you reminded yourself he was a wounded soul that needed saving and bringing to the light.

But soon, even your attempts and comforting him weren’t enough if it meant you still had to leave him alone at the end of the day.

You had things to do - vital responsibilities to fulfil, but Kanato demanded all your time for himself, knowing how much you hated to see him cry and using his bloodied tears as a manipulation tactic, aware of how he was your weakness.

You wanted the best for him because you cared about him more than he could ever know.

And just as he got attached to you - you, too, got attached to him. You adored him, and loved spending time with him and wished you could have more of it - but you had duties.

You were an archangel, you were not even supposed to fraternise with vampires - yet here you were, holding one in your sweet embrace, his head on your soft bosom, humming a gentle lullaby which was carried by the wind.

You’d have to go, soon.

For once, though, Kanato stirred in your embrace but did not grab the nearest object to throw against the walls out of his immense agony of having to part from you.

This time, he did something that was so unlike him. He looked up at you with teary eyes, clenching onto your blouse. “Don’t.” His voice was soft and weak - so vulnerable - more than you thought you would ever be privy to hear. “Don’t go.”

You knew you had to - but your heart pounded in your chest and a thousand tiny knives pierced through it when you moved a single limb. You had to, but your conscience and love for Kanato refused to let you go.

You couldn’t go - not when he stared up at you with such raw desperation. He needed you.

And you needed him, too.

So you stayed with him because it was the thing that made you happy.

Centuries of helping others - never once thinking about yourself meant that this once, you wanted to act on a whim and a desire.

Even if you knew this was going to make you fall, you didn’t mind it.

You’d have Kanato by your side, and you would be by his side, and that would be enough for you.

Shu: Click here 

Reiji: Click here 

Ayato: Click here

Laito: Click here

Subaru: WIP 

- Mod Rozalia

[comic-the-adventurer]

There was nothing.

“Nothing.”

What did “nothing” imply?

What did “nothing” mean?

What did it mean to say there was nothing?

For him to say that he was nowhere, with nothing around him, he had to know what that truly meant. He couldn’t misidentify his surroundings yet again. Not now. Not after he finally might have time to stitch together his disjointed thoughts. His heart jumped at the thought of falling short. Before something changed again, the answer needed to be found.

When you think of “nothing,” what's the first thing that comes to mind? A black void? An empty room? Void is something. Emptiness is something. What’s nothing? If you’d define “nothing” as simply, absolutely nothing -- no sound, no entity, no visual, no existence -- to the point where if Mist-Jun begged you to believe he was nowhere with nothing, that alone would prove it to be yet one more devious lie. (No. He wouldn’t perform another elaborate lie. Out of everything that gets entangled in his tattered thoughts, he will forever be haunted by what banished him “here.” It’s the one thing he can remember)

He realized: He couldn’t be in an area with nothing inherently. No matter how empty it felt at times, no matter how hollow his heart felt, if looking upwards, there was always that rarely-spinning cot mobile. The mobile that always remained in the same place no matter how far he thought he strayed; as long as he looked above himself, it was always there. Even if the rest of the forever looping “room” was empty, there was always the golden cot mobile -- he was never certainly with nothing.

Although, maybe “cot mobile” doesn’t quite describe it well. In a mobile, pendants are connected to a base that spins slowly. This one had neither. He’d argue it’s more like an endless, lightless chandelier that began who-knows-where. There is no ceiling; just where the chandelier faded away -- No visible start to the mobile, just an end.

The chandelier was barely visible from shadow when he first awoke here. Originally, it appeared as a small, golden dot from his perspective. With how far it rested from the "floor," he barely noticed it at that time. The more time passes, the longer it grows, he'd realized at one point.

Until then, he was convinced time stood still where he was, all while earth continued to live on as suffered. The thought likely came from how long those mysterious voices revealed he was punished to spend in this looping, blank world a few...years?...ago.

The chandelier, he was certain, was the lock keeping him in this ominous realm.

Just like everything else here, the patterns on the cot mobile periodically changes, it seems. Never when he's looking, though; always when he turns his back.

It's never unusual or unnerving for him to recognize the patterns in the chandelier; familiarity always gave him a feeling of safety.

...

Not always.

Sometimes, he views the patterns with fear.

The patterns came in lines; one set of symbols repeated themselves until the line was over. The farther down on the chandelier, the shorter the line. It occurred to him, one day, if that meant the mobile would inevitably be forced to stop growing.

He wondered what would happen then.

The more he studied the symbols on the mobile, the more he realized some shapes were recurrent: Nearly always, there was a silhouette of him and a woman dancing. He smiles when seeing this symbol, knowing it was fortunate this was a common pattern; had it not been for this, he might have forgotten about them by now. Completely and entirely, he means. That encrypted, dance partner on the chandelier reminded him of who? It's not the first time he's thought about them. He knows their name, even if it must’ve been buried into the back of his head unknowingly. He promised never to forget them. Who was it? Don’t forget them, Mist.

Don’t forget them.

Don’t forget them.

Don’t forget them.

It was strange.

When he’d first awoke in this endless chamber of immeasurable darkness, he was only reminded of what led him there by those ghastly voices that were kind enough to warn him of his crimes. Otherwise, he’d be forever wandering these tainted halls without a clue of what banished him here.

This shadow-shrouded dungeon has become a prison to him. A special prison, just for him. With the years he’s spent here, he’s given up hope of escaping from this blighted chamber or finding himself released if he remains patient. With the years he’s spent here, he’s given up hope of getting answers to what the red handcuffs encircling his wrists represent or what the green shackles entangling his ankles mean.

With the years he’s spent here, he’s given up hope of trying to get answers for anything anymore.

They’ve likely forgotten him.

Not them, the voices, he means.

He’s been abandoned with no one coming back.

He hasn’t heard those voices respond to him since day one. Not just voices -- he needed to specify. Those voices. The voices that explained why he was imprisoned here when he’d first awaken, that’s who he was yearning to hear. The only other voices he’s heard in here are rather unsettling whispers that, though uncommon, seem to come from merging and shifting walls…

...And…

...of course…

...that familiar lullaby that rarely sings from the cot mobile.

It comes in waves.

Day-and-night cycles are far from identifiable to him (Here in this domain, he could identify one, and only one, cycle: "safe stage" and "danger stage.") but, over time, it grew increasingly obvious the faint melody was periodic, performing in random order. He would never know when it would start. Nor why - despite his relentless search for answers, he will forever be rooted in a world filled with simply empty non-existence.

Chills swept over him.

He couldn’t help but feel embarrassed he hadn’t recognized the person who whispered that song sooner.

Although, even then, the first time he was struck by this gentle song, he could recognize the medieval folktale hidden beneath the soft-spoken lyrics easily. This song was about one of their traditional acts, he noticed. Upon the first time he heard the lyrics, it was about the ancient belief that, if you scribbled your deepest desire on a scrap of paper, slipping it into a glass bottle and watch it safely sail past the ocean horizon, one day, you’ll find your wish has become a reality.

…

There’s a strange connection he felt resonate between the lullaby and him.

Down to the singer.

The lyrics.

The melody.

The--

...

Focus, Mist-Jun.

Should the time come he gather the strength to search through the fogged memories of his tragic past well enough, his recollections had told him that...he...used to cast wishes into the sea himself;

It couldn’t be a coincidence.

Could not.

It couldn’t be a coincidence how--

--something clicked not too long ago when he realized the lyrics always alter slightly with each performance. Though the pure melody was always the same, the “final” lyrics are always delayed more each listening with new words added to the ending, steadily building another verse. While he always heard it begin all the same and, ignoring it at first, he was unaware that the strangely familiar lullaby had been rewritten.

Because his heart ached from hearing it.

With even the beginning of the lullaby intertwined with an aching story he had promised himself he would forget, how could anyone have the strength to resist shielding themself from the nightmare? Despite grimacing at the thought, It wasn't until after the song's length doubled that he thought to rehear its healing lyrics as he had staggered steadily to his feet.

…

He shouldn’t have waited. He knew that now.

Although he feared the way his broken instincts insisted the true nature of the song would have been better left a mystery, he had known the fragments of his spirit wouldn’t stop bleeding until he understood the song’s true strings to his heart.

He’d been right.

With the sadly-sung lyrics, the singer reminisced a tale of a maiden crowned as a reigning royal, and as such, grows accustomed to receiving anything and everything she would desire at the drop of a hat. As time passed living her best life and sharing her throne with her best friend, she had grown caring not of the disgusting way the foolish peasants outside her castle were forced to live, nor how greatly the townspeople hated her greed.

(The peasants weren’t being fair, he deemed. He knew they weren’t.)

The verse rambled on about her narcissistic orders as ruler…

...and…

...the penalty that came with it.

Once the public heard word of how their queen grinned happily with malice as she carried out wickedly inhuman deeds that provoked nothing but grief and misery for the common people such as enflaming the sacred forest and slaughtering the cherished lover of another princess from a faraway country, the masses arose to overthrow the ruling tyrant, leading the reign-sharing best friend to--...

…

...to…

...

The song never specified.

Still, he knew exactly what happened.

He promised them he would never forget.

It was a memory that ate away at him, a memory that tormented him, yet he would sacrifice everything and anything to hold on to this one, certain sin.

Repeating the same bloody scene again and again.

He smiles.

He couldn’t tell you what it is, of course.

It was a secret.

That he held on to.

Even after death.

[raibebe]

Guardian

Genre: smut (!) Words: 5.822 Prompt: Guardian Demon Kihyun Warnings: Violence (he’s a demon, what did you expect), dirty talk, fingering, unsafe sex (please use protection, kids), light cumplay (I’m so sorry) 

A/N: The beginning is inspired by Clean eyes on AO3, I never finished reading it because it literally destroyed me several times, but if you are into that and into Chanki, I highly recommend it. Thanks to the lovely @im-a-special-bebe​ who made this beautiful moodboard. She posts those from time to time and they are awesome, so check her out. Also if anyone cares the working title was literally: Kihyun birthday demon, good job me. This is not part of my still unfinished Halloween promts, I just like supernatural concepts who am I kidding Not betaed because I’m a horrible person and because this is already late. So all mistakes are my own. Also I can’t believe I wrote this filth, I legit got possessed in the midst of writing this, I swear. Please feel free to sream at me about this once you’ve read it And most importantly: Happy belayed birthday, Kihyun. I hope your day was amazing and you will nerver read this 🖤

Demon: A vicious creature who is a subordinate to one of the rulers of hell and gifted with different supernatural powers. Some of them, especially the more powerful ones, once were angles before they became tainted by sin and fell from heaven.   Oddly enough their name originates from the Greek word Daimon translating to guardian spirit.

You usually weren’t one to go to shitty college parties at a random frat’s house, but your whole week had been fucked up and you really needed to get your mind off of the things that had happened. Not only had you managed to spill coffee on yourself twice but it also was in class in front of your crush. You also had tripped over nothing while running to catch your bus which had resulted in you scraping your knee open and missing the bus. You were also pretty sure a man casually walking the street had seen you fall and laughed at you. And if all of that wasn’t enough, you were pretty sure your crush had also seen you when you arrived late to class, drenched to the bone because it of course had not only started to rain but your umbrella had broken as soon as you had pulled it out of your bag.

So in conclusion your week hadn’t been going well. So what worse could happen if you went drinking alone at this random party because your best friend had cancelled last minute because she had to rush to the vet because her cat was hit by a car? Exactly: A lot of things. First your crush was also here which made you more nervous than it should have. But he was looking illegally good with his hair styled upwards and a neat button down with the sleeves rolled up. And second you had already been tugged away by one of the frat boys, who you shared some classes with, to join in a horrible drinking game which not only left you with a light buzz already but of course when you got up to catch some air outside you bumped into your crush resulting in him almost dumping his drink all over you.

This was what had led to your current situation which was simultaneously best and the worst that could have happened: You were standing in the empty kitchen with your crush, trying to make casual conversation while he was mixing himself a new drink because his old one had ended up all over the floor. “You look really hot today,” he said, letting his eyes roam your body, lips curling into a smirk behind his red plastic cup. Blushing you tried to hide behind your own cup, taking a long sip to calm your nerves. You did dress up a little bit, the dark blue dress showing off more skin than you usually showed and the black stockings hid your scraped knee while also looking cute. “We are in the same literature class, right? I never noticed how good you looked,” he kept flirting, raking his hand through his styled hair. You could just nod, silently sipping your drink until a stranger aggressively pushed past you in the kitchen, making you lose your balance, resulting in you almost falling if your crush hadn’t caught you. Blushing again you apologized for being so clumsy. “Well this isn’t too bad, is it?” Your crush asked, tightening the grip he had on your waist, pressing you against his chest.

Grinning and setting his cup down, he slowly closed the distance between you and him. Just seconds before your lips were touching his, the stranger who had shoved you on his way inside, loudly cleared his throat, making your crush stop and glare at him. “What’s your problem dude?” He asked while releasing you from his grip and walked over to the man, clearly irritated. Even though the stranger was a couple of centimetres shorter, he didn’t back down even in the slightest and stared directly into the other male’s eyes when he spoke. “I would rather not witness you tainting this kitchen or this girl right now,” he spoke calmly, pronouncing every syllable very carefully. “Tainting? What decade are you from dude?” Your crush asked, laughing at the very handsome stranger. His jaw seemed like it was chiselled out of marble, his pale skin just as flawless as his expensive looking black suit jacket and his dark eyes had a sharp edge to them, almost animalistic. When the stranger just raised one of his perfectly arched brows and didn’t give an answer, your crush huffed in anger. “So you ruin my chance to get laid tonight but don’t have the balls to talk back to me?” Hearing that almost made you choke on air. Who had said anything about you having sex with your crush tonight? Was that what he had planned on doing? Was he just after a quick fuck? Sure he already had a couple of girlfriends through the year but you had never taken him for the type to just be after that type of stuff. “I merely don’t want to descend down to your level of standards when it comes to conversations,” the stranger answered calmly, his face an expressionless mask and you couldn’t help the little laugh escaping your lips.

“You find that funny?” your crush snarled and turned back to you, face contorted with anger, making him look so unlike himself. “I... No, I jus-”, you stuttered trying to explain yourself. The way he looked at you really made you feel uncomfortable. “Hm, bitch, cat got your tongue now?” He continued to curse at you, taking a step towards you. “Don’t touch her again,” the stranger interfered, his tone carrying a strange weight that didn’t tolerate any misbehaviour. A wide grin was spreading on your crushes face when he slowly stretched his arm towards you, eyes on the stranger. Crowding your body against the kitchen counter you tried to bring as much space between you and your crush. Your heart was beating furiously, the blood rushing through your system drowning out the sounds of the party. “I’m giving you one last warning,” the stranger growled in response, eyes narrowed in anger. Before you could realize what was happening, the stranger had leapt forward and twisted the wrist of your crushes hand, that was about to touch your skin, making him wail in pain. “I don’t like being talked back to. I ordered you to not touch her and yet you chose to disobey,” the stranger spoke through gritted teeth, “You know what I do to those who disobey me?” When your crush didn’t answer, the stranger broke his expressionless mask and grinned. “I will show you exactly what I do, creature.” Taking the other’s wrist in both hands, the stranger quickly but pressure on the joint until you first could hear bones cracking before your crush screamed in pain, falling to his knees and clutching his hand which was now helplessly dangling off his arm.

Yanking your crush by his hair to make him look up, the stranger spoke dangerously calm: “Do not come near her again or I will take my time breaking all of your knuckles separately before I snap your wrist. I might not even stop there. Maybe I will take the time to dislocate your shoulder, break a couple of ribs or shatter the bones in your arms so you won’t even be able to touch anyone ever again. Did you understand?” Still whining in pain the other didn’t answer. “I asked a question, creature. I will not repeat myself.” “I understand, fallen one,” your crush whimpered, baring his throat to the stranger who immediately released his grip as if it was burning him. “Leave this place,” he spat out before looking at you for the first time tonight.

You didn’t even notice your ex-crush scrambling to get up and hurrying out of the kitchen when you felt the stranger’s gaze wandering over your body. To say you were terrified wasn’t even enough to describe the fear you felt. He had just broken this guy’s wrist just because he had tried to touch you again. “You have nothing to fear, girl. I can’t hurt you,” he said after a while. “I think you are perfectly capable of hurting me after what I saw,” you dared to say which earned you a grin from the man in front of you. “I didn’t say that I wasn’t capable of it. I just said that I couldn’t.” Swallowing around the lump that had formed in your throat, you willed your body to not shudder at his words. “We should leave this place. There are way too many disgusting creatures here and I don’t have the desire to let you witness any more violence today.” With that the stranger took your hand in his and led you out of the kitchen, through the mass of drunk people and out of the house.

When he began walking in the direction that your apartment was, your brain seemed to finally catch on to what had just happened and you shook off his hand. Stopping dead in his tracks, he looked down at your now separated hands before raising an eyebrow in question. Gaping at him with an open mouth you just managed to breathe out a “What the fuck” before the scene in the kitchen played again before your eyes. “You just broke that guy’s wrist.” “You just noticed?” He asked teasingly while running a hand through his messy dark brown hair. “He didn’t even do anything.” “He would have if I hadn’t stopped him. You heard him say it.” That knocked the wind out of your sails. He was right of course. But that didn’t mean that you had to admit it. “What if that’s what I wanted?” You asked, feigning confidence that you really didn’t have. For all that you knew this man was aggressive and did not shy away from using violence. “No.” “No? What do you mean no? Who are you anyways to patronise me like this?” You asked the stranger, getting angry. “You may call me Kiyhun,” he answered calmly, scanning the surroundings, probably for any passer-by that heard your shouting. “Oh, I may?” You asked, sarcasm dripping from your lips, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Listen up, princess,” Kiyhun began speaking while shedding his suit jacket, leaving him in a black turtleneck, before draping it across your bare shoulders, “I can sense that you are getting cold, scream at me all you want when I brought you back to your apartment but let me assure you: You did not want to go home and spend the night with that foul creature.” Blushing from his sudden gentle move, you pulled the jacket tighter around yourself, it was indeed getting chilly. When Kihyun began walking again, you hurried to fall into step with him again. You couldn’t quite make sense of him. First he was all violent towards that guy and now he acted all gentle towards you even though he was a stranger to you. You were pretty sure you had never even seen him even once on campus. A man like him stood out with his handsome features and sharp style. How did he know who you were and where you were living? “You still haven’t answered my question though,” you whispered after some time. “What question?” “I asked who you are.”

Wrinkling his nose, Kihyun almost nervously rubbed his neck. “That’s not an easy question to answer, princess. You weren’t supposed to ever meet me.” “What does that even mean?” You asked in confusion. “I was sent to protect you. In secret. From the shadows. It’s what I have been doing for a while now, trying to keep you away from foul creatures like that one at the party. But you are quite the stubborn person,” he chuckled darkly. “I didn’t think you would keep approaching him after you spilled coffee on yourself twice.” “You made me spill my coffee?” You didn’t believe him. How would he have done that if you had never seen him? “One of my many talents,” he only grinned and wiggled his fingers. Rolling your eyes at his innuendo, you groaned: “How are you any better than him?” “Never said I was. Technically speaking I’m worse than him but I already told you that I can’t hurt you, princess,” he told you with a wink before opening the door to your apartment complex for you, mind you without any key. Catching your surprised look he just cryptically said: “Told you those fingers had more talents.”

The walk up the stairs was quiet and before you could search for your keys, Kihyun had already opened the door to your apartment, holding it open for you with a sly grin. “After you, princess.” Blushing at the nickname, you stepped past him, toeing your shoes off and neatly hanging his jacket up. “What... What are we supposed to do now?” You asked him, unsure about what he had meant before when he had told you about how he was supposed to protect you. From what? It wasn’t like you lived in a terrible area of the city where you had to fear getting robbed or assaulted. “Whatever you want, princess,” Kihyun answered, slipping out of his shoes and making his way to your living room like he owned the place. Had he been in here before? Had he broken into your place? “I’m going to make a cup of tea, would you like anything?” You asked him, at a loss what you should do, too many questions filling your head. He just shook his head, inspecting the pictures you had put up on your wall. The little time it took for the water to boil was barely enough to sort out your thoughts. Who or what was the stranger? And what was that whole protecting thing about?

Now sitting on your couch with him, sipping your tea in silence you still weren’t sure what to make of everything that had happened today. “You look like you want to ask something,” Kihyun ripped you from your thoughts. “I don’t know where to start,” you admitted, searching for the right way to ask the question that had been in your mind for a long time now. “What exactly are you, Kihyun? You definitely aren’t human. Humans can’t cause accidents without even being in the same space or open doors without keys. Or tell people that they have been sent by someone to protect you from creatures, not men but creatures.” He chuckled and focused his wandering eyes back on your face. “I thought you would never ask, princess. I already told you part of my name. The rest of my title would be prince Kihyun, fallen angel, one of the 72 demons of Ars Goetia, tainted by lust, banned from heaven by the archangels themselves who used to call me their brother.”

Your mouth opened to reply something but your mind was wiped clean. What does one even reply to something like this? “That’s why he called you fallen one?” You decided to ask to fill the silence that had settled between you two. Kihyun just nodded, his eyes somehow seemed like he wasn’t with you, like he was lost in a memory or something. “And someone told you to protect me?” Another quick nod. “And who was that?” At that he just shrugged his shoulders. “They didn’t reveal themselves. But they needed to perform a powerful ritual to bind a prince of hell.”

“But why do I get a guardian demon? Everyone gets guardian angels.” That statement made Kihyun burst out in laughter. It was probably the most beautiful, melodic laughter you had ever heard. Not quite the laugh that made you laugh with them just for the sake of laughing but a laugh that made you smile softly and tinted your cheeks a rosy colour. “Angels wouldn’t even bat an eye at any human’s problems. They just don’t care. Everyone thinks they are these empathetic creatures who just want the best for everyone which is as far from the truth as it could be. They are cold-hearted, calculating beings with no desires other than keeping everything as it is and follow their orders without questioning them,” he lectured you, raking a hand through his messy hair again, causing a couple of dark strands to fall into his face. You had to grab your teacup harder to not give in to the need to push them back to feel if they were as silky as they seemed. “But what about demons? Aren’t they supposed to just follow their desires no matter what? And just mess with people just because it gives them joy? How does that make them any better?” “We aren’t. But we are different. Angles and demons or more specifically fallen angles are two sides of the same medal. One side cold and indifferent, the other only lead by their own desires. But both seem to only care about themselves,” he spoke calmly, stretching his arms out on the backrest of the couch, picking at a loose thread near your head.

“And what are you supposed to do now? Follow me everywhere like a stalker and keep embarrassing me in front of everyone when a creep is present?” “I suppose,” Kihyun sighed before he grinned at you, flashing his perfectly straight, white teeth, “But embarrassment doesn’t seem to quite work on you. You are quite persisting, princess.” You blushed but didn’t know whether it was because of the pet name so casually slipping over his plush lips or because of his teasing. “How long do you have to do this?” you asked after sipping the lost drop of your tea, gently setting the mug down. “Until the binding breaks I guess. Depends on whoever cast it in the first place. You don’t know anyone who would know how to summon and bind a demon by chance?” “I didn’t even know creatures like demons or angles were real until today. I still don’t really believe it,” you confessed, scared and fascinated by your guardian at the same time.

“Oh, I can show you just how real I am,” the demon grinned and scooted closer to you, your bare thigh touching his, the feeling of the rough denim making you shiver. “Sensitive, aren’t we, princess?” He grinned, placing one of his hands where your stocking met your bare skin, toying with the elastic, letting it snap against your skin in a playful manner. Taking a shaky breath, you tried to not let him affect you so much but he was really close to you and you could swear you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips. Getting bolder, Kihyun teasingly slipped one of the straps of your dress off your shoulder, kissing the skin gently before kissing his way up to your neck where he sucked harshly on your pulse point, leaving a purple bruise behind. Moaning in pleasure you bared your neck for him, granting him further access to your sensitive skin. You felt his chuckle more than you heard it, his teeth scraping against your skin making you whimper.

“I’ll give you one chance to tell me to stop, princess,” he spoke, his lips almost touching yours while his hand on your thigh slowly made its way to the hem of your dress. When he didn’t hear any words of complaint but only heavy breathing, he captured your lips in a heated kiss, claiming your mouth. Not wasting any time, he hiked your dress up and pushed your thighs apart to cup your panty clad sex, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit. Kihyun swallowed the moan that escaped your lips and let his tongue slip between your lips. Tangling your hands in his messy hair you tried to push him even closer to you, your body arching against him. Grinning he broke the kiss. “Eager to find out how good I can make you feel with my hands alone?” He asked while taking in your already wrecked appearance: Your eyes were blown wide in pleasure and you ground your hips shamelessly against his hand when he had stopped moving it against you. “Answer me, princess,” he whispered into your ear, his free hand grabbing your hair and exposing your neck to him. “Please, Kihyun,” you managed to say, biting down on your lip to stop the moans from spilling out. Chuckling he pulled the damp fabric of our panties to the side so he could gather your arousal on his fingers. “So wet for me already,” he moaned before attaching his lips to your neck again while slipping a finger inside you, pulling a satisfied moan from your lips which turned into a whine when he didn’t start to move his finger immediately instead gently circling his thumb on your clit. “You have to work for it, princess,” Kihyun breathed, placing a kiss on the abused flesh on your neck, where a dark bruise was already forming. Sighing while grinding your hips against his finger, you formed the words he had wanted to hear: “What do you want me to do?”

Growling deep in his chest, he captured your lips in a bruising kiss and thrust his finger into your heat harshly, filling the silent room with obscene noise. You broke the kiss with a loud moan when he added a second finger and crooked them just right so he was massaging your sweet spot. Just when you felt your orgasm approach almost embarrassingly quick, the demon quickly pulled his fingers from your heat and pushed them past your lips instead before any complaints could leave them. Almost instinctively you sucked on the digits and swirled your tongue around them, tasting your arousal. “I want you to undress, princess. Then you will sit on my lap where I can spread your beautiful thighs apart and reward your little pussy for being so obedient,” the demon demanded, his voice deeper than before, rumbling in his chest, before he pulled his finger from your lips and sat back against the couch, spreading his legs out. Wanting nothing more than his hands back on your body, you stood up with shaky legs, gradually slipping the second strap of your dress off. “You are in no position to tease me, princess,” Kihyun growled, palming himself through his jeans. The sight of his cock straining the dark fabric made your mouth water. Almost ripping your dress and panties off of you, you fell to your knees in front of him, stroking his strong thighs, eyes fixed to his hand moving lazily along the outlines of his dick.

“You want me that bad, princess?” You only managed to nod before he grabbed your hair and pushed you against him, making you nuzzle his clothed erection. A shaky breath left his parted lips when he felt your hands undo his pants to push them down, the lack of underwear making you chuckle. His cock wetly slapped against the skin of his abdomen where his shirt had ridden up, a bead of precum glistening at the head. When you just stared at the bare size of it, he grinned smugly. “What are you waiting for, princess?” His voice snapped you out of your stupor and you gave his dick a couple of experimental strokes, spreading the precum to make the slide easier.  Licking a stripe from base to tip, tracing one of the prominent veins, you took the head into your mouth while looking up at him. A curse left his lips and he rested his head back when you sucked harshly and swirled your tongue along the sensitive slit, tasting him. Feeling proud that you could make him loose his composure like this, you closed your eyes and slowly took more and more of his length into your mouth, bobbing your head and wrapping your fist around the part you couldn’t fit. “Fuck princess you look so good like this, your pretty lips around my cock, sucking it like you were made for it.” Kihyun’s praise made you moan around him, ripping a growl from him in response. “Look up at me,” he commanded and you gladly obeyed, moaning again at his appearance. He had taken off his turtleneck, exposing the pale flesh of his strong chest. But what turned you on even more was his heated gaze that had turned his eyes into dark pits of obsidian.

He grabbed your hair again, pulling you off of his cock with a wet pop. Catching your breath, you both just stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. You were sure you looked just as fucked out as he did, squirming on your knees and pressing your legs together, your sex clenching around nothing in need. “Get up here, princess,” Kihyun ordered, tapping his lap. Not before pressing a last kiss to the flush head of his cock, you slowly climbed onto his lap and claimed his lips in a kiss that was more teeth, tongue and want than anything else. When he grabbed your hips to grind your pussy against his erection, you loudly moaned into each other’s mouths, trying to swallow the sounds. “Please, Kihyun,” you begged again, bracing your arms behind yourself on his thighs, trying to get more of that sweet friction by rolling your hips down against him harder. “Not yet, princess,” he moaned, reaching between your bodies to rub steady circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves, making you cry out both in pleasure and frustration, “I want to see you cum like this first, squirming on my lap, desperate for me to fill you up with my cock, spreading you open.” Another loud moan left your lips at his filthy words. This man would be the death of you, you were sure. You were grinding against his length like a horny teenager trying to get off as fast as you could just to finally feel him inside you. You gasped loudly when he closed his lips around one of your nipples and twirled his tongue around the sensitive nub. Grabbing onto his messy hair, you held him in place, squirming between his hand on your clit and his hot mouth. Feeling your orgasm threatening to wash over you, you aimlessly yanked at his hair, suddenly feeling something hard beneath your hands. Looking down in confusion you saw two little horns hidden in Kihyun’s hair. The realization that he actually still was a dangerous creature along with his eyes looking up at you from where he was still sucking on you nipple, made you trip over the edge, your orgasm hitting you hard.

Throwing your head back in pleasure you felt his grip around your hips tighten. The moan of the demon’s name got stuck in your throat when he suddenly lifted you up and thrust his length into you while you were still shaking and clenching around nothing from your orgasm. A loud curse left Kihyun’s lips when he ground his dick inside you. “Fuck, you feel so good, princess, squeezing my dick like that.” Still riled up despite your orgasm, you kissed him feverishly, fingers finding his horns again, stroking along the base of them. Gasping against your lips, Kihyun bucked his hips up, fucking his erection even deeper into you. “Keep touching me like that and I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” the demon growled into your ear before sucking another hickey on your neck. Grinning you lifted your hips and sank down on him again, loving the slow drag of his cock against your sensitive walls. Picking up a slow rhythm, you tried to find the right angle for him to hit that spot inside you that made you see stars. Gasping when his cock was hitting it just right, you yanked at his hair to pull his lips from your neck to kiss him feverishly. Moaning into the air between you, you picked up the rhythm of your hips and gently massaged the base of his horns before whispering: “Fuck me like you mean it, demon.”

That made something snap inside Kihyun, an inhuman growl escaping his throat as he gripped your hips hard to hold you in place to fuck up into you hard and precise, making you squirm and moan in pleasure. “Watch your mouth, princess. Even with you on top of me, I’m the one in charge, you understand that?” He spat out between ragged breaths, landing a harsh slap on your ass, making you arch in his hold. Suiting the action to the word, he placed his feet more firmly to the floor, getting more leverage to slam his cock inside you. With each thrust his hips met yours and you let your head fall beside his, the breathy moans you let out only spurring him on even more. “Is that what you wanted, princess?” he growled, “You want to cum all over my cock?” Not able to form any coherent sentences, you just let out an embarrassingly high pitched moan, clutching tighter to him, raking your nails down his shoulders, feeling the knot in your stomach already tighten. It just took Kihyun to slip a hand between your bodys to rub quick circles into your clit, to trip you over the edge, the orgasm hitting you even harder than the first one. Your whole body was trembling and it felt like your blood had been exchanged with molten lava. You let out a string of curses, clutching tight to your guardian demon, riding out the pleasure with soft circles of your hips. Yanking his head down so you could kiss him again, you lazily licked into his mouth.

“I’m not finished with you princess,” Kihyun breathed when you two separated, grinding his still hard cock into you, making you whimper, your body still sensitive. He gave you some time to come back down from your orgasm, gently running his hands along the curves of your body. “Come on princess, be a good girl for me. Hands and knees, let me see that beautiful ass,” he instructed when your legs finally had stopped shaking, lifting you off of his cock. You couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped your lips at the sudden emptiness when you shifted on the sofa, arching your back. Chuckling he grabbed a handful of your ass and kneaded the soft flesh. Almost purring you wiggled closer to him until you could feel his cock slide against your backside. Grinding against you, the demon pushed a hand between your shoulder blades so your upper body was pressed against the cushions, making your back arch. “So pretty and all spread out for me,” he murmured, grabbing the base of his erection tightly and teasing your entrance with the head of his dick. “Please,” you begged, needing him back inside you.

“If you ask so nicely, who am I to deny you?” The demon growled, pushing into you in one swift move, wasting no time in setting a harsh pace, the sound of your skin slapping against each other filling the silence of the room along with your moans and his groans. When he started to grip your ass so tight, you were sure you’d have bruises tomorrow, pulling you back onto him and his rhythm faltering you could tell that he was getting close. Growling deep in his chest, the demon grabbed your hair, pulling you up so you where flush against him, the change of the angle making you cry out and clench around him. “Fuck, princess, keep squeezing me like that and I won’t last much longer,” he panted into your neck, snapping his hips more vigorously and reaching around you to rub tight circles in your clit. “I’m so close please don’t stop,” you begged him, tears close to spilling over from all the pleasure you were feeling, throat raw from all the moaning. When you were right on the edge of your orgasm, you clenched down around him, squirming in his hold. But that was already enough to send him over the edge, spilling his cum deep inside of you, biting down on your shoulder to muffle his load moan.

Groaning he let go of you, causing you so slump back against the sofa, his softening cock slipping out of you. “No, no, no,” you squirmed, pushing back against him, “Need you back inside me.” “Don’t worry princess,” Kiyhun chuckled, watching his cum drip out of your clenching pussy, “Three time’s the charm, they say.” Dragging a finger through your folds, he gathered the cum that had leaked and fucked it right back into you, ripping a moan from your throat. “Ass up,” he commanded and you immediately obeyed, arching your back further. Slapping your ass once, the demon fucked three of his fingers into you before attaching his lips to your clit, sucking harshly. With how close you had been before he had reached his climax, it didn’t took long for you to be right on the edge again, your moans rising in pitch. “I’m gonna cum,” you choked out, not even realizing the tears that were staining the pillows beneath you. “Cum for me, princess,” Kihyun breathed, barely audible over the sound of your moans and whimpers but the vibrations it send to your clit send you over the edge for the third time that night, your whole body going taut before every strength left you, slumping against the cushions, legs twitching. Pleased with how fucked out you were, the demon pulled his fingers from your twitching heat, licking them clean from your arousal, humming in satisfaction.

“You believe me now when I tell you I’m real despite being a demon?” He breathed into your skin when he kissed his way up your spine before pulling your body flush with his, wrapping you up in his arms. “Very real,” you murmured, reaching to tread your hands through his damp hair, trailing your fingers over his horns, making a sigh leave his lips. “I like those,” you giggled, taking a closer look at his dark horns peeking out from his messy hair. Chuckling he nuzzled his head into your hand. “If you keep scratching them like this, I’m going to fall asleep in no time.” “No round two?” You playfully pouted at him. “I don’t think either you or me have another round in us right now,” Kihyun grinned, running a hand along your still shaking thigh. “How come you are this exhausted? I thought demons tainted by lust could go for longer,” you teased him, pillowing your head near his heartbeat. “Restricting myself costs quite some energy, princess. I didn’t plan on suddenly knocking various furniture everywhere because my wings decided to sprout because I lost control completely. My horns weren’t supposed to come out either,” the demon said, voice already heavy with sleep. “You have wings? Like with real feathers?” Pulling you closer to him, he softly kissed your hair. “If you are a good girl and stay out of trouble, I might show you sometime.”

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

"Your food will get cold."

“Let it,” Pyro said, arms crossed in front of him, fingernails digging viciously into the flesh of his biceps. The problem with storming off on a boat was that there was nowhere to go.

“I understand if you don’t want to see me,” Haven said softly.  “But you should eat.  Don’t harm yourself out of anger.”

“I’m not the one who needs to worry about harm right now,”  Pyro snarled.  The fury  burned through his innards, licking around his heart, until he could taste ash in his mouth. He gripped his arms even tighter, not trusting what his hands would do otherwise.  Kill no man…..

“I’m sorry.  I don’t expect you to accept my apology, nor do I expect forgiveness. But it is true.  I am sorry.”

“Bullshit you’re sorry!”  Pyro shouted, turning towards her.  “You’re just like the rest of them!  Magneto, Exodus, they didn’t give a damn!  Even that shit Empyrean was just using me!  I was ‘tainted,’ I was ‘unworthy,’ I had bad genes or a weak constitution or whatever the fuck.  Better to let people like me die off, right, so that evolution can keep marching on!”

Haven was shaking her head, eyes shut as if in pain.  “It was wrong.  It was of me to think that way, and I’m ashamed that I ever did.”

“I thought you were different, you know that?  I thought you were actually kind and decent.  Most of those rich pricks just fake it for good PR, but you….I thought you actually meant it.  I thought….I thought you were real.”  

“I am…..real,” Haven said haltingly. “I am as real as any other in this world, and as flawed.  I have been blind and arrogant.  I have done terrible things.  I am still capable of terrible things.”  She whispered the last sentence.

“So am I,” Pyro said, his voice menacing. “So stop whining excuses at me and get out of my sight before I do something really awful, you lying, two-faced cunt.”  

Haven lowered her head – a nod or a bow, Pyro couldn’t tell and didn’t care - before turning and disappearing below decks.  Pyro remained where he sat, watching the waves break against the prow, stars glittering on the dark sea.  

Playing with fire at the moment was dangerous, he knew that, but he flicked his wrist to send a jet of it into his waiting hand.  Sometimes he needed fire.  When he burned, it burned with him, until the anger would melt into a comforting warmth in his chest.  He would wrap it around himself in a protective embrace, until nothing could touch him, inside or out.  

In his fingers, the fire twitched and danced, forming abstract shapes, complex spirals and patterns.  It became Haven torn apart by lions or sliced in half or simply brutally beaten by firy hands.  It gathered into a tiny ball and burned intensly hot, turning blue-white and starting to melt the nearby sunglasses Shinobi had left on the railing. It relaxed back into a ball of flame. For a moment, it shaped itself into his own face, looking thinner and more haggard than usual – then Pyro sent it flying out into the water with a sound of disgust.  

Fuck it.  He really needed a drink.

It was sometime later, halfway through his second bottle of whiskey, that Pyro realized he was no longer alone on the deck.  

“There, you see, Madelyne?  He’s fine.  He had his dramatic little snit, and now he’s crawled into a bottle.  As I expected.  Soon he’ll pass out, and the problem will solve itself.”

“Problem?  What problem?”  Pyro felt strangely offended.  He wasn’t the problem.  

“The problem of you getting wasted and possibly falling overboard, firebug,” said Maddie.  “Or just getting hypothermia from lying on the deck all night. We’re not exactly in the tropics right now, you know.”

“I know,” Pyro said, shivering suddenly, as if just noticing the cold.  

“Madelyne was concerned.”  Shaw’s face wrinkled around the word, as if tasting something disgustingly sweet.  “I just wanted to be sure you didn’t damage the ship with your tantrum.”

Someone was putting hands on him, tugging at him, and Pyro realized that Madelyne was right there.

“Don’t,” he mumbled, and then were was a sudden, strange lightness on his back.  

“Don’t!” He repeated, louder and panicked. He flailed at her, trying unsuccessfully to stand.  “Don’t, I need it!”  

“Easy, easy,” Maddie soothed,    “I’m just putting it away for tonight, okay?  You’ve had enough for tonight.”  The whiskey bottle had disappeared as well.

“Not that, I need….need fire.  Fucking sitting duck without fire.”

“Yeah, that’s going up on the shelf until you’re sober, okay?  Nothing bad’s gonna happen tonight.”  

“Everything’s bad tonight,” Pyro slurred as Madelyne tried to pull him to his feet.

“Oh, please stop your whining, Allerdyce! Acting personally wounded just because Haven fell off the pedestal that you chose to put her on.  How utterly childish.  Not exactly her brave, chivalrous knight anymore, are you?”    

“Sebastian, this is really not the time for this,” Madelyne said sternly.  

“She said, she said…said I deserved to die,” Pyro muttered.

“She didn’t say that exactly – “

“She said it was a cull!  The Virus was a cull!”  Pyro insisted.  “Let the world be cleansed….of people like me, right?  People like me ain’t good enough to live.  Sweep us all out of the way for….paradise, or mutant supremacy or whatever the fuck.:”

“Yeah, that was a shitty thing to believe,” Madelyne said.  “And she had a demon inside her pretending to be a benevolent god.  You know she doesn’t think that way anymore.  There was a time when I believed that I should sacrifice my infant son and let demons overrun New York.  I thought I was owed vengeance for the wrongs done to me, and innocent people paid for it.”

“He doesn’t care,” Sebastian put in.  “Allerdyce only cares about past sins that affect him personally.  His moral code is very self-centered in that way.”

“Oi, fuck off, Shaw!”  Pyro attempted to point vaguely in Sebastian’s direction.  “You’re the most….selfish fucker I’ve ever met.”

“I am self-interested, Allerdyce, there’s a difference.  I take care of myself and expect no one else to do it for me.  I take what I have earned, and respect those who do the same. I don’t put people into boxes of ‘good’ and ‘evil.’  You’re really surprisingly naïve for a criminal, but I suppose that’s to be expected with your romanticized view of yourself -”

“Sebastian, shut up and help me with him, okay?  You can be smug tomorrow.”

“Can I, then?  I’ll hold you to that, Madelyne.”  Pyro felt himself lifted, and carried, none too gently, down the stairs. Soon he was in his own cabin, being tucked into bed like a child, and feeling very much like this had all happened before.

“Just get some sleep, okay?”  Madelyne was saying, and in the shadows her skin took on a greyish cast.

“M’okay, Raven,” Pyro mumbled.  “I can still do the job.”  He was no longer sure exactly where or when he was – just that he was lying weak and helpless in bed while the world lurched confusingly around him.

“Seriously, St. John.  Sleep it off.  Things’ll be better in the morning.”  Maddie said, backing out and closing the door.

“It won’t, though.  It’ll still be there in the morning,” Pyro muttered, but he was alone.  As he had done in a different life, he shut his eyes, and quietly waited for oblivion.

(OOC: Don’t mind me, I’m just taking completely innocent asks on a trip to Angst City.  Pyro just found out about Haven’s views on the Legacy Virus back when she was being manipulated by the Adversary.  I promise the next Haven ask will be much nicer.  Pyro will stew for a few days, then get over it and probably apologize for saying horrible things to her.)      

[mattzerella-sticks]

Supernatural Crack🩹tober

Day 6: Bi Bi Bi - Generations

1957

           Henry asks him to detail his encounter, again. “I – I didn’t have my, uh… my pen.” He shakes it, awkwardly chuckling.

           The other man – Paul – whistles a sad note at having to repeat his story but does so anyway. “Like I said, I was minding my business – taking a walk through the park…”

           Nodding, Henry scribbles over the little notepad what he should have been writing from the start. If he hadn’t been distracted. By disheveled hair, five o’clock shadows, blue eyes and broad shoulders under a too-tight t-shirt. Paul describes his encounter with the shifter in full detail. Henry barely collects enough information for his investigation. When their meeting ends, Paul ushering him out the door, Henry almost cries in relief. Still, there’s a routine to this. Rules he, a Men of Letters, must follow.

           “If you see anything else,” Henry says, handing Paul a business card, “you can reach me, here.”

           Not really. Henry rarely spends time in the Bunker, unlike his fellow colleagues who skulk around like the very ghosts they study. They’d more than likely answer the phone. Why he told Paul that, he cannot explain. Neither the rush Henry felt when Paul grabbed the card, and for a few scant seconds, they both held it. Thumbs inches apart from one another. Until Henry let go, stepping past the threshold and breathing deep from clean air not tainted by aftershave and loose cigarettes. Confusion flies from his mind like the birds overhead in the sky. Cawing while he walked the short distance from Paul’s trailer towards his car.

           That’s all he would need. A simple trek would send those queer thoughts heavenward, never to bother him again. Paul’s face stayed with him, though, when he entered the car. How his lips moved when asking simple questions, like if he wanted a drink. His fingers on the bottle while he poured, somehow maintaining eye contact with him. That damned business card.

           Henry tightens his grip on the steering wheel, shuddering as it all replays in his mind, frame by frame through his mental projector.

           Luckily, pinned on the rearview, was a picture of his beloved. Millie. Smiling like a ray of sunshine, parting those awful clouds. She gives him strength, and with one final push, shoves those thoughts far away. Paul’s strong fingers were replaced with her delicate ones, and the only lip he thinks about is her soft, pink ones. Her face is all he ever needs. With Millie, he can overpower any temptation.

           “And that’s normal,” he mutters, starting the engine, “we all have temptations… as long as I never give in.”

           On the roads, it’s hard. But that’s why, wherever he goes, he carries a piece of Millie with him. To make it easy.

1989

           John wakes up with a sharp knife cleaving his head in twain, and a dull ache low near his stomach. Gurgling, he rubs a tired hand through his hair. Blocks intrusive sun rays with a calloused paw, mumbling all the while about extinguishing the sun.

           “Yeah,” someone chuckles nearby, sheets rustling as he moves. A heavy arm wraps around him. “The sun’s a fuckin’ loser.”

           Despite the monster-sized hangover he nurses, John sprung from the bed. “What the –“ He bites hard on his tongue, enough to draw blood, as he fully takes in the bed’s other occupant. Bronzed skin, chestnut hair fanning out behind him on the pillow. Bloodshot, blue eyes squinting up at him. Chest bare, the rest thankfully hidden under the blanket. But judging by his own state, and that of the room with clothes strung about, he saw enough. Blissfully forgotten, lost when he sobered.

           “Hey,” the stranger drawls, sitting. Watching John with a furrowed brow. “What’s wrong?”

           He twitches, telegraphing his next moves with blaring sirens. John barks a quick order, “No!” in time, startling the other back into bed.

           “What?”

           “No,” he continues, growling. Reaching for a pair of pants, one leg inside. “No, you… you stay there –“

           “What?” he says again, angrier, “John, what the hell is going –“

           “No!” he roars, whipping around. Jeans still unbuttoned, unzippered. “Do not address me, you –“ Like a gunshot, he hurls the insult and watches all the life drain from the other man. Paler than earlier, his lips thin. “I am going to get dressed,” John says, shoulders quaking with rage. At the stranger. At himself. At what happened last night. “And I will leave. You will wait exactly ten minutes. Not nine, not eleven – ten. After that you can do whatever the hell you want as long as we never see each other again. Because if we do I…” John advances, snagging his button down on the way. Strangles the fabric in his grip. “I promise you will not like it.”

           Learning from his earlier missteps, the stranger wordlessly nods, drawing up the covers around his waist.

           “Good.”

           He throws the shirt on, hastily buttoning it. Tucks it into his now-fastened pants, and finds his stained jacket. Then, he grabs his shoes. Exiting barefoot, no care to waste time putting them on. More important that he create distance between him and his mistake.

           It won’t be far. First, he notices his Baby. Parked haphazardly but in one piece. The relief that ballooned in his chest bursts as his gaze trails from that towards the overhead motel sign. A familiar one. The same he saw when driving in three weeks ago, checking in while he skulked about for hunts.

           John looks behind him, at the room he left. Even in a stupor, he found a room on the other side. Far from his kids, his secret safe another day. He slams a boot against his head, ringing increasing from the blow. “Stupid, stupid…” he mutters, walking, “You promised… after the last time, you promised -!”

           This happened before. More than the standard one time – because every boy practiced kissing with their best friend. At least, that’s what Marty told him in the eighth grade. Once isn’t a big deal. Repeat performances and… and other lewd acts, that crosses over into queer territory. Dangerous territory. For him as a man, and a father.

           If only Mary… she stopped it, for a while. Woman or man, there wasn’t a person alive who stole his breath quite like her. Who made his heart skip a beat in a normal way. When she died, normality went with her.

           He hoped at least some of it would stay. But with enough drink, anything is possible.

           Standing outside his door, shifting on his feet, John promises to be better. Resist falling into old habits, into men’s arms. Otherwise, one day, he won’t be as lucky. And where would his boys be…

           “Whatever,” he sighs, opening the door, “women’re better anyway.”

           John expected, with how low the sun was, he’d find a quiet room. Two children fast asleep, and a table John can sit at and consider his life choices. The table’s there, and at least one child lay unmoving on the bed.

           Dean, however, sits on the edge of his bed. Bowl of cereal on his lap, he barely flinched at John’s entrance. Mesmerized by the television screen.

           Creeping forward, he curiously spies on the cartoon Dean watches. He recognizes the explosions and music, glad his son enjoyed a perfect boys’ show like G.I. Joe. Still, freaked by his morning, John sees the cartoon with new eyes. Were the men on the show always that jacked? Abnormally so? And men don’t hug, why are they? John only hugged his fellow soldiers for select reasons, and those nights ended in hushed whispers and regret.

           He strides across the room and clicks the television off.

           “Hey!” Dean cries, “I was watching –“

           “You won’t ever watch that show again, you hear me?” he says, sternly wagging his finger. “Do you hear me?”

           Dean whines, kicking his legs. “Why? What’s so bad about it?”

           “Because,” he splutters, cheeks flushed, “because, you don’t want people to think you’re a fairy, do you?” His oldest frowns, clearly confused. Unused to the term. John, reticent, turns from him. “Besides, you’re too old for cartoons anyway. Men don’t watch cartoons.” At Dean’s silence, John heads for the bathroom. “Wake Sammy, tell him we’re leaving –“

           “What?”

           “Your things better be packed by the time I finish showering.” He shuts the door, blocking any response.

           Hidden from his kids, John bleeds every ounce of tension from his body. Shoes drop, booming in the small space. Shuffling further, John braces himself against the sink. Stares at his reflection, hating every sinful inch. “Never again,” he whispers, “you’re stronger than your mistakes.”

2020

           Dean watches his reflection mouth the words, easy without sound. But when he tries voicing those thoughts, his voice crackles and cuts out. Plug pulled before anything happens, too frightened by what might be.

           “You can do this,” he mutters, splashing some water on his face. “You can do this.” He’s had how many years? Of figuring things out. Of lying. Of acceptance. It’s three words. There are scarier things than that, and Dean has taken them all down.

           But this?

           Sam knocks on the door, “Dean? You finished in there?”

           “Give me a sec, Sam!” he calls, wiping his hands on a nearby towel. His brother drumming continuing behind him, testing his patience. “Seriously!”

           “Come on… I want to shower!” Scoffing. Sam slams a heavy hand on the door. “Can you please come out already?”

           Dean swings it open, Sam’s brows jumping in surprise. “Fine!” he shouts, flailing, “I’m bisexual. Are you happy?”

           Sam scowls, looking unimpressed. “Is that all?”

           “…Yeah?”

           “Good,” Sam says, offering a tiny smile. Only momentarily, as in the next second it flattens into a frown. “Now, if you're done, can you please exit the bathroom so I can wash the witch gunk from my hair?”

           “Sure, sure…” Dean stumbles out, Sam rushing in after. Chest lighter, as was his mood. He giggles from the absurdity of it all, raking shaking fingers through his hair. “I’m bisexual,” he repeats, “I’m bi – I’m bi!”

           A hurricane of thoughts whip through is mind. Many of them a variation of what he’s already announced. In the eye of that storm, however, is a crystal-clear lake of blue. A comfort, that makes his heart swell and feel safe. The same color as a very, important person’s eyes.

           Dean dials his number, holding the phone to his ear. He answers on the third ring, Dean speaking over him. “Hey, Cas! I – I have something to tell you. I’m –“

(Day 5 - Now That’s an Angel Blade)