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seospicybin · 8 months

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TOO HOT TO HANDLE.

PART I

Lee Know x reader. (s)

Too Hot To Handle Masterlist

Synopsis: You and Lee Know become contestants in a reality dating show, Too Hot To Handle. (10,8k words)

Author's note: Hope you like this one too. Feel free to send feedback! x

Content warning: This is entirely a work of fiction and not affiliated with real Too Hot To Handle show.

YOU: I'm always on the hunt. I'm always looking for the next exciting thing [giggles] I know I may sound conceited saying this but... I usually get what I want [bites lip] Well, I'm beautiful, I'm fun, I have a great body... they can't say no to me [winks] get ready 'cause I'm coming in hot!

Having all these eyes on you the moment you walk in is nothing less than your expectations.

You used to get stared at by people, it's something that you've been dealing with after you went through puberty. For one, you don't have either the big boobs or the ass, your body is... average. But people still stare at you like you have all of that on you.

That's when you learn that sex appeal doesn't have anything to do with your appearance.

You can engage in a boring conversation with someone and they'd still find you sexy. Sex appeal is a gift, a very lethal gift.

"Hi, everyone!" You sweetly greet them with an elegant wave of hand.

"Girl, you're really cute!" One of the females says.

You smile even though you prefer to be called anything but cute, coming from her makes it sounds like you're small and not a threat to them.

However, a compliment is a compliment and maybe she meant it in a good way.

"You too," you return the compliment with a quick cheek-to-cheek kiss.

Skipping the females, you go straight to introduce yourself to the male guests, "Hi, hello!"

There are three of them, blonde, brunette, dark-haired, chocolate, vanilla, and caramel. They got everything in here and you can't decide which one you want to taste first.

"Jai!" The dark-haired says. The tattoos covering his left sleeve catch your attention.

You know that accent everywhere, "Australian. I like it," you say with a flirty smile.

You turn to the next one, "And you are?"

"Luca," he answers with a rather different accent.

It's hard to tell but he's tall with a very well-built body, it's safe to say he's an athlete.

"Do you play sports?"

"I'm a professional footballer," he answers.

"Soccer?" You ask for confirmation because football means a different sport in a few countries.

He nods, "Do you like it?"

"Well, I like what I'm seeing," you shamelessly reply.

It amuses him so much that he laughs, "I mean, soccer," he corrects himself.

"Only when you're playing," you answer without a beat.

You move on to the blonde one that has the biggest body out of the three. It's hard to miss those abs even with his oiled body reflecting the sun at you.

"Bryan," he introduces and doesn't hesitate to kiss your cheek.

"You're so big," you say in awe.

"The bigger the better?"

You grab a glass and let him pour you one, "Well, cheers to that!"

YOU: Oh... [fans your neck] They're all so hot. Not sure I can survive in this heat.

It's better to consider the other female guests as your friends rather than competitors.

They're all attractive and have their own charms, it's not like you're here to compare looks. You're here to have fun in a show called Pleasure Island.

From the name of it, you can imagine all the fun you can have and hopefully, get some action in the process.

The next male guest who enters the villa is a bit shorter than the previous ones, he has long curly hair and a great body.

He comes in your direction and introduces himself to you first before anyone else.

"I'm Jack!" He says with a smile that showcases his perfect white teeth.

"Hi, you have a nice smile!" You say.

"I love your smile," he flirts back with a subtle wink.

He leaves quite an impression on you, he has wild youthful charms.

YOU: Jack is cute. He'll make a cute boy toy. If you know what I mean.

It comes down to the last guest.

Your eyes are already busy silently checking them out while sipping your fruity cocktail but how can you say no to another body you can ogle on?

This guy sure has a lot of confidence in him. Wide strides, a sly smile, and a face that would make Michelangelo rise from his grave just to immortalize it into a sculpture.

Sadly, he only introduces himself briefly to everyone from the other end of the group of people lining up to face the camera.

"I'm Minho," he shortly announces his name with an enigmatic smile that would make Monalisa run for her money.

There's something about him, something you can't put your finger on. He got the body, and the face, he even got that improved, sexier version of The Kubrick stare.

You quietly watch him as he speaks to a girl with rosy cheeks, ginger hair, and a Scottish accent, you believe her name is Maisie.

Something about him makes you can't look away. A part of it must be because he's pleasing to the eyes and the other part is... You are simply attracted to him.

It feels as if he knows he trapped you in his magnetic field, he catches you looking.

Instead of looking away, you stare deeply into his eyes and sending him signals that you're indeed attracted that you can't stop looking.

Before it turns into an intense staring contest, you slyly smile and raise your glass at him for a toast.

He slightly raises his glass as well and sips it without breaking his eye contact with you.

That means signals received so let's see if he gets them right.

YOU: Minho is dangerous but who likes to play safe anyway? Definitely, not me [smirks]

"I like Jai. He's hot..." says the beautiful girl with strawberry blond hair, Agnes.

It's obvious that she'll be the main character of this show. She's hot, very likable, and has a perfect smile that would get her teeth-whitening ads.

"What about you?" She asks the tallest girl with legs for days, Zara.

Her dark skin glows under the sun and her curly hair flows down her back, radiating that goddess beauty.

"I like Bryan. I like big boy," she answers.

"And apparently, you like vanilla too, huh?" you playfully add.

Everyone cracks a laugh at your witty response and accidentally takes your turn to answer, "I like Jack, he's cute. I like cute boys."

YOU: Jack is the safest choice for now. I have my eyes on Minho too but I want to check the competition first.

"Yeah, he is, I think he's the youngest of them all," the one with midnight hair and light brown eyes, Alia.

Maisie nods in agreement, "But I got my eyes on Minho," she says.

The first competition appears and you keep your face straight, playing dumb.

"Oh, good choice!" You calmly respond.

"Did you see his face? He's so beautiful, like a Greek God!" Maisie says with a dramatic sigh.

"And his body, ooh..." Alia adds, overwhelmed by just the thought of Minho.

"Oh, you like him too?" Maisie asks, faking her surprised tone.

"Yeah, I'm going for him, he's so my type," Alia daringly says.

Forget what you said about them as your friends!

Maisie and Alia are your competitors now but you're not going to declare a war just yet. For now, you want to gather as much intel as possible to assess the probability of winning against them.

YOU: Minho is quite the ladies' favorite I see.

You're the last person to come into the bedroom and everyone seems to have chosen their territory.

There are five beds anyway, you're not afraid of not getting one and you're alright sleeping with anyone.

Maisie can have her victory when you see her getting onto Minho's bed.

You sit on the sofa looking away and when everyone else is busy chatting with each other, you look at Minho's direction laying down with hands tucked under his head.

Once your eyes make contact and lock in a gaze, you keep staring into his eyes with your thumb tugged between your teeth.

When you deem he gets the message as he flashes you his signature half-smirk, you look away and shift your attention to someone else.

"What's good, Jack?" You ask him who's looking lonely on his bed.

"You," he answers.

"I think I'm more than just good," you tell him with a flirtatious laugh.

"There's only one way to prove it," his eyes that keep looking at anywhere but your face tells it all.

YOU: Jack is just so... feisty? He's so young, so eager. He's like a rabbit, ready to have sex 24/7. A jackrabbit.

The theme for tonight's party is Greek Gods and Goddesses.

The males are wearing togas while the females are wearing white and gold dresses with less fabric and high slits on them. You put on a dress with a plunging neckline and a golden headpiece on the crown of your hair. Not forgetting to put layers of lipstick on because nothing arouses men more than seeing red-painted lips.

The male cheers when all the females are descending the stairs to the beach where the party is held. There's a bonfire, glasses of cocktails ready for everyone to grab, and platters of food arranged so beautifully to snack on.

To get it started, music is blasting through speakers so everyone can warm up with a dance, gyrating and humping against each other and whatnot.

You notice Jai and Agnes already got things going on as you caught them kissing in between changes of songs.

While Jack is hopelessly trying to get something out of you for a while.

At one point, you let him rest his hands on your hips as he stands behind you, dancing and rubbing yourself against him as a little treat for him.

YOU: Everyone is looking so hot, so divine... the sexual tension is rising and the night hasn't even started yet.

The music abruptly stops playing and everyone is told to sit down while Jack is taking center stage, announcing a game everyone is going to play.

"Nectar is the drink of the Olympian gods but unlike them, we have a new way to drink it!" He begins by sharing a little knowledge of the Greek mythology.

You have zero idea what it's got to do with a game everyone is about to play.

"Everyone is going to stand here and let the other Gods or Goddesses drink the nectar from their bodies," he explains, pointing to a bowl of honey on the table.

A few of them coo in excitement and probably start thinking about what they're going to do with it.

"Nothing is off-limits! It's whatever, wherever, whoever you want to do," he playfully remarks.

Bryan is the first one to take his turn and he stands there with his big body, looking like a true Greek God in his toga and crown.

You see that Zara wastes no time to take her chance, taking a spoonful of honey and letting it dribble down his abs. She drops to her knees to lick the honey clean on his glorious abs.

"Whoo!" You howl and applaud her because she sets the standards so high already.

She doesn't miss the chance to kiss him after, getting his big boy just like she planned. Now that's hot!

It gets crazier with each turn and you want to have fun as well, ultimately, you want to show everyone how to get it done.

It's Agnes's turn. You don't usually have a thing for blonde but she's pretty and she'll make a great conquest.

Before Jai can have his chance, you dash toward her and brush her lips with honey right with your finger. She has soft lips and you're so eager to taste it.

You lean in and passionately kiss her, showing off your skill in kissing and giving everyone a little show. Just as expected, kissing her only convinces you that girls are better kissers.

"Oh, damn!" You faintly hear one of the males exclaim.

Agnes gasps as she lets go of the kiss and suddenly, Jai takes over from you, afraid that you'll take her from him.

YOU: It's a party. I want to have a lot of fun and kiss everyone.

You return to your seat with a triumphant smile on your face, on the way, you shot a glance at Minho to dare him.

However, both Maisie and Alia didn't get any from him. You start to wonder if he's going to kiss someone at all or not. When it's Minho's turn though, Maisie is excitedly put honey on his neck and licks it off for him, finishing it with a kiss on his lips.

Alia takes her turn after, kissing him right on the lips and well, you must admit that he's a good kisser. He's lacking in hand placement.

Sure, you would love to get up there and show him what a good kisser you are.

YOU: It's still day one. There'll be lots of opportunities to kiss him and if not, I'll make the opportunity myself.

When it comes to your turn, you expect nothing from Jack but he's waiting for it, rubbing his hands together, impatient to execute his plan on you.

"Come, get your honey," you playfully say.

Jack picks up the whole bowl of honey and pours it down your cleavage. You're gasping the second the sticky liquid lands on your skin and trickles down the valley between your breasts.

Putting the bowl down, Jack dives right in and buries his face between your breasts, he's smearing the honey all over instead of licking it off of you.

You admire his creativity for this even though you know it's coming from the pit of his lewd, juvenile brain.

"Oh, yeah!" He lets a celebratory roar but it soon dies down as someone else comes toward you in his confident, wide strides.

Your stomach is fluttering as Minho stands right in front of you, looking like Adonis with his sharp nose and chiseled jaws, got you holding your breath and wondering what he's about to do to you.

Minho is unpredictable which is exactly what you're looking for in a man.

You see he dips his two fingers into the honey and brings them close to your lips, smearing it all over. Your lungs are shrinking the longer you hold your breath yet you can't seem to breathe when he's leaning so close and about to...

Minho doesn't kiss you. Instead of that, he licks your lips and you can feel his hot tongue on your lips. One lick is all it takes to make your heart skip a beat.

When you think he's done, Minho tugs your lower lip between his teeth and gently bites it, pulling at it before letting it go.

As he takes a step back, Minho shoves his fingers to his mouth, a half smirk that signified he just evened the score with you.

YOU: Minho got the signals after all [slyly smiles]

When the host of the show enters you finally snap yourself out of it.

"Wild night, huh?" He asks everyone.

"Yeah!" Bryan answers the loudest.

"It gets wilder because I have a surprise for you guys!" The host announces.

That gets everyone excited, guessing what kind of surprise they'll bring on the first night of the show. They expect so much because everything has been great already. More girls? More boys? A celebrity guest? A DJ?

"Are you guys ready?"

Everyone is hyped, shooting up from their seats and jumping in excitement like kids on Christmas morning.

"Bring it in!"

The attention shifts to the two staff carrying a big wooden box and placing it in the center. The anticipation is rising and everyone can't wait to see what's inside.

"Five! Four! Three! Two..."

Everyone counting down the second and when it finally gets to one, the side of the box opens, revealing a cone-shaped thing inside, lighting up in purple colors.

Then you hear the infamous ding sound that you know for sure it's coming from Lana, the ultimate cockblocker.

Your excitement fizzles out in a second and drop your head on your hands, "Oh, fuck!"

Maisie squeals while Agnes shrieks in horror and the rest are wondering what is that thing, oblivious to the fact that they're about to be forced into celibacy.

"Is that an air freshener?" Jai asks in pure confusion.

"That's Lana!" You say.

"What?" He cringes and is still confused.

"She's going to cockblock us!" You concisely tell him what's about to happen to all of you.

"We're on Too Hot To Handle!" Zara breaks the news for everyone and makes it real for you that you're trapped in this show.

"Hello, I'm Lana, your personal digital assistant!" The cone starts speaking.

"Welcome to the retreat!"

YOU: What. The actual. Fuck?

"The purpose of this retreat is to help you gain deeper and more emotional connections."

Alia whines and then sighs, "I signed up for dicks," she lowly mutters.

You lowly laugh at her words, not realizing that you're also laughing at your pain.

"For the last 12 hours, I have been watching you and learning about your behavior. You have been selected as all of you are having meaningless flings over genuine relationships."

The more Lana speaks the more you feel like fainting. Can't believe that she threw a party, and got everyone all hot and bothered, delivering shocking news in the middle of it to let everyone know that they can't have a release at the end of it.

"As part of your social development, I have allocated a prize of $200,000."

YOU: That much money makes me horny, to be honest.

"How about I give you $200,000 for you to go away, Lana?" Luca jokingly offers but it falls short since Lana has no ears.

Even if she had one, she wouldn't listen to him anyway, Lana is her own boss.

"However, I will deduct money from the prize fund if there are breaches of the rules."

Looking at them and how wild the things they've done this night alone, you can tell that there'll be not much money left at the end.

"For those of you who need reminding, there is to be no kissing...."

"Fuck!" Zara bluntly curses.

"No heavy petting, no sex..."

"Oh, my God!" Agnes panicking, looking like she's about to hyperventilating.

"And no self-gratification."

Jack's eyebrow raises in question, "What's that mean?"

"No masturbating," you tell him with a sad smile.

He looks devastated as if you've just told him a relative has died, "for real?"

You stifle a nod.

"Welcome to your long, hard, sexless summer," Lana finishes.

YOU: Boys make me horny. Money makes me horny. I'm fucked.

Everyone in the dressing room is groaning and complaining about the turn of Pleasure Island into No Pleasure Island with Lana ending the party for everyone.

You don't want to be dragged down into the misery pit and decide to finish your night routine quickly, wanting to end the day already.

Minho's bed is right next to the door and he's laying there as if he's been waiting for you.

"You'll sleep on this bed," he says, stopping you from walking.

You tip your head to the side, then let out a low chuckle, "How are you so sure?"

He leans back on his pillow and puts his hands under his head, "because I'm sleeping here," he answers.

Minho is so cocky, so pretty, a menacing force in this retreat and you're intrigued to see what it feels like to sleep with the devil's advocate.

You crawl onto the bed and lay next to him, not showing any signs that you'll fall into his temptations, at least, not tonight.

YOU: Well, as expected, the best girl won!

The next thing you anticipate is how Maisie or Alia is going to react to seeing you in one bed with Minho.

Minho has his hand resting on your stomach like he's trying to hold you down, not letting you go anywhere even though you're under the cover with him, chatting with Agnes who's occupying the next bed with Jai.

Maisie is the first one to see that her number one guy is on the bed with someone else, she glances away and is left with no choice but to sleep with Jack tonight.

You don't have to look to know that she's throwing daggers at you with her eyes from across the room.

And Alia looks calm about it, she's going to sleep with Luca anyway. Perhaps, she's switching onto his lane tonight.

"No one breaks the rules tonight!" Bryan remarks.

There's always that one guy who's going to protect the money but it's a surprise that it's going to be Bryan.

"Be good!" He warns once again as he looks around the room.

Something about being reminded not to do something though only encourages all of these horn dogs to do it.

You turn your head to see Minho and can't tell what he'd likely do. With most men, you can easily tell everything about them but Minho... he is uncharted territory but it's a good thing that you're eager to explore.

YOU: Minho is so perfect and I feel the need to violate it.

You're usually jealous to see anyone prettier than you but not with Minho.

Instead of being jealous, you want to admire him, and worship him like a divine being he is. You hesitate to touch him because it doesn't feel real to exist in the same space and time with him.

It's getting dangerous now that the lights are out and anything can happen in the dark.

He turns to lie on his side and face you, with the dim light coming from the sleep lamps you can see his eyes are open and looking at you.

You reach for his hair and put the strand away from curtaining his forehead, "Are you going to be good tonight?" You keep your voice low as everyone else is going to sleep.

His hand finds your waist under the cover and then he answers, "I don't know."

He then slides his hand to the arch of your back and using all of his strength, he pulls you close until your body is against him.

Brushing your hair to the side, he then brings his mouth close to your ear and whispers, "We'll see."

His vague answers only make you feel uneasy but your chest is overflowing with excitement that you can't sleep, even when you're sleeping, you feel alerted with every movement of his body against you.

In the middle of the night, he disrupts your sleep with a gentle kiss on your neck. He then slides down the strap of your tank top so he can place kisses along your collarbone.

The quiet in the room is filled with the rustles coming from this bed as Minho hovers above you, he takes both of your hands and pins them above your head.

You believe he specifically chooses this time to see if you can keep it quiet as he places kisses down your neck and chest. Each kiss leaves a searing mark on your skin with a few low moans slipping past your mouth.

You don't even try to break away from the hand pinning your hands by the wrists but can't stay still as he's teasing you more by kissing you all over your face, except your lips.

He teased you earlier by only licking your lips and by doing this, he wants to see how far can you go and see if he can make you push the limit.

Minho is a fucking sadist but what can you do when you get pleasure in pain?

He lands his lips so close to your lips that you reflexively open your mouth, ready to return his kiss but he retracts himself, you can see how pathetic you are from the way he's looking down at you.

"Are you going to be good tonight?" He asks you back, then loosening the hold around your hands.

Minho is turning the table back, leaving the decision whether to rule break or not to you.

In that case, he was wrong to think you'd be afraid to be the first to rule break.

YOU: Well, I mean... [bites lips] I've never been a good girl anyway.

That half-smirk of his is mocking you but he looks so damn attractive whenever he does that.

You hate losing but for this one time, you're going to like it.

"You fucking tease," you mutter to him, putting your hand on the nape of his neck and bringing his head close.

The bad wins tonight and you can feel the burn as both of your lips touch and clash in a blazing kiss that sets your body on fire.

You wrap your legs around his waist and draw him closer, leaving not even an inch between your bodies, your breasts squashed between your chests.

You kiss him hard and deep, making the most of it knowing that it will cost you money. Your hands are tugging at his soft locks.

His tongue skillfully parts your lips open and invades your mouth, deepening the kiss to get as much taste as he can. He is one phenomenal kisser and even if you had to die of asphyxiation, you don't want to stop.

However, you still want to live to play this game with him and he seems to have the same plan by the way he slowly pulling away. You both gasp for air the second you let go of the kiss.

You land soft pecks on his cheek and neck, turning his head to the side, You whisper "I let you win tonight," then playfully bite his ear.

YOU: And just like that, we're the first to break the rules in the retreat.

"Good morning!" Agnes cheerfully greets everyone the second the lights are on.

"Morning!" You mumble your reply, still feeling sleepy with how little you slept last night.

Bryan pinches the bridge of his nose and scans everyone to spot any guilty faces, he looks even bigger topless next to Zara who owns a model body.

"I really thought I was dreaming that I'm in Too Hot To Handle," Agnes innocently shares.

You softly laugh at that and indirectly, at the satire of your own life. You turn to look at Minho, looking so beautiful even when he's just woken up from sleep.

"How about you?" You put your leg over him under the cover, rubbing his shin with your toes.

"Did you dream a sweet dream?"

Minho slouches down on his pillow, looking like he's about to go back to sleep, "It was sweet but it wasn't a dream."

He casually says that like it wouldn't bring back the recollection of how the two of you kissed last night and you're not going to lie, it gets you wet just thinking about it.

YOU: Waking up next to him, the first thought that comes to mind is our kiss last night. Gosh... it was so fucking hot.

"Didn't you say you like Jack?" Zara asks the second both of you are out of everyone's earshot.

"But I didn't say I only like him," you playfully respond.

She giggles in amusement, "You're a trouble. I like it," she says.

Working out with her at the beach, earning you some tips and exercises you can to get her perfect body figure.

"You got some real competitions though," she says while doing a minute-long plank.

You're running out of breath but manage to answer her, "So?"

Zara chuckles again, "You're not afraid you're juggling two men and going against two girls at once?"

When she puts it like that it sounds like you're creating a problem for yourself. In this retreat, you can't just do whatever you want without getting the consequences considering that you're locked in with them for the next few weeks.

"Well... I like Minho more," you tell her and drop to the mat as one minute has passed.

"Yeah?" She asks for further details.

"But he makes me second guessing everything," you concisely explain.

You turn over and cover your eyes to shield them from the morning sun, "with Jack, it's easier. I don't have to think around him."

Zara turns to start doing side plank, "You're not looking for a good pet here!" She playfully scolds you.

You laugh and follow her lead to do the same, "Unless Minho likes someone else then he's my number one right now."

Zara gently slaps your butt, almost sending you toppled to the front, "that's a good girl!"

YOU: It's only day two and the options are still open but I know what I want. I want Minho.

It's convenient that the dressing room is empty at this time with most of everyone already dressed and dolled up for the day.

"Did anything happen with big boy Bryan last night?" You slyly ask while she's putting her fake lashes on.

She lets out a long sigh in response and slaps her spatula on the table, "What do you expect from an accountant?"

It all makes sense now. Bryan is an accountant, he thinks about the money more than treating his girlfriend with a smooch.

You burst into laughter and stop applying mascara, "hate to say it to you but you chose the wrong guy to be in the show with."

She glares at you from her table then looks back in the mirror, "he chose to play the good cop so that leaves me no choice but to play the bad cop."

"Ooo..." you coo, impressed with her determination to make Bryan break the rule with her.

"If you need a smooch, just know that I will give it to you in a heartbeat," you tell her with a sly smile.

Luca walks in on you applying sunblock on each other's body and he refrains from getting to his locker.

"What did I walk into?" He confoundedly asks.

As Zara bends down against the table, you lather sunblock on her ample butt then slap at it, entertaining the sole spectator in the room.

Luca is too stunned to speak that he's just standing there with his locker door open, "Damn. Do that again!"

The sight that welcomes you as you walk out of the house is of Minho in the pool with the Maisie and you owe it to her to give her a chance, making it a play fair.

You turn the other way and decide to sunbathe on the lounger with Alia, chatting about some good skincare products since she's done some beauty ads.

After a while, you see Agnes and Jai walking back from the beach. From the way Jai is grinning from ear to ear, you can tell that they did something that cost some money.

"Hey, girls," she innocently greets you both and sits on the farthest lounger.

"Hey," you reply then exchange a look with Alia.

She seems to also get the same impression and straightforwardly asks Agnes about it, "Did you just spend some money?"

Knowing that she has a bad poker face, Agnes licks her lips and stifles a nod.

"Oh, no..." Alia sighs and picks up her water tumbler from the floor to take a sip.

You see Jai is joining Luca and Jack in the pool, it's only about time that everyone knows someone has broken a rule and the others will soon take their turn.

YOU: They just didn't know that they're not the first to break the rules, eh? [bites thumb]

Zara packed a lot of outfits with her and you get to borrow one.

"I'm going to look so hot Bryan can't say no to me," she remarks.

You must admire her confidence and it's indeed looking good on her, you should have some on you as well if you want to win this competition.

The night is cool with a warm breeze blowing from the sea, carrying the salty air ashore. It's so easy to locate Minho since he's the only one that always catches your eye.

He's wearing a white shirt with the three top buttons open, exposing his chest muscles, and sitting with his legs spreading open.

You feel like dropping to your knees between those muscular legs and... you push the thought away. You focus on the mission you have to do.

One of the things you like about Minho is that he doesn't waste time, he's straightforward and that's what you're about to do, going straight to business.

"Calling for me?" You poke fun even though he doesn't say anything but sipping his drink by himself.

The sofa can fit three people but Minho's thick thighs are looking so comfortable you can't help yourself to sit on them.

"Do I look good?" You take his hand and put it on your waist.

"Not bad," he answers.

He reclines on the sofa, head tilting upward looking at you and that way, you can admire his beautiful face from the top, inexplicably never getting tired of it.

There's no need for words when you can see everything in his eyes, the way he's intensely staring into your eyes with his thumb lazily rubbing the arch of your back.

The tension is there and it's electrifying, you feel alive when you're with him.

"I like your eyes..." you say as you put your hand on his jaw and your eyes drop to his lips.

Minho softly laughs because he knows you're looking nowhere near his eyes when you say it. He puts a finger under the thin strap of your dress and twirls it around his finger.

"I like yours too," he says back as he's undressing you with his eyes.

YOU: God! I want him and I'm going to get him.

Putting your hands around his neck, you draw him close and put a few inches of safe space between your faces.

Pfft, it's not like it's going to stop you from breaking the rules.

"Are you going to be good tonight?" You ask.

"I haven't decided yet," he shortly answers.

You lean into whisper into his ear, "If you're good then I'll give you something as good later."

Now Minho knows what you mean by being good. That he won't let anyone turn his head or get tempted to break the rules with someone else.

Knowing his nature, you doubt that it will not stop him but it's worth trying. He got a taste of it last night and there's a big possibility that he wants more of it.

You softly kiss his cheek and take his glass of drink from his hand, not hesitating to take a sip.

Let's see how the night goes.

YOU: I think it's going to be a good night.

Too much confidence isn't good either.

You feel a little bitter when you see Minho openly flirting with Alia just a few feet away from you. A moment after that, he talks to Maisie.

You scoff because he decides to turn it into his game and you know what?

You feel like making him sweat a little, especially with Jack sitting across from you and checking you out long enough that you can't ignore it anymore.

You lay on your side and decide to tease him a little, "Nice shirt!"

His mouth curls into a sly smile, "Nice body!" He shamelessly compliments you back.

Agnes comes into the scene and sits on the sofa, letting you rest your head on her lap.

"How about me?" She asks.

His smile grows wider, "You two are on the top of my list!"

"Really?" Agnes asks in curiosity as she drags the letter R.

He points at you and says, "I'm obsessed with you but I think you know that."

"Whoa!" You respond in awe, surprised by how daring and blunt he is.

YOU: I'm not going to lie but I like the attention Jack is giving me right now.

You make a space between you and Agnes, patting it as you tell him, "Come sit here!"

Agnes folds her legs on the sofa and also tells him to come, "We're not going to bite unless you want us to," she says.

Jack, like the puppy he is, hops onto the sofa and sits between you and Agnes.

You lean in close to his side and put one leg over his thigh, slipping your hand into his brown, curly hair.

"Not sure about some bites but Jack wants some kisses," he confidently demands like the two of you would easily give it to him.

Agnes looks at you and you look back at her, in a few seconds of eye contact you know that she wants to do it, she shares the same chaotic energy with you.

"Jack wants some kisses, huh?" You childishly talk to him.

Jack turns his head to look at you and puckers his lips.

"Only if you say please!" You tell him.

"Please..." he pleads by adorably dragging the word.

You grab his chin and lean in to kiss him which he eagerly returns with so much passion, trying to show you what he got.

Not wanting to give him too much, you pull away from the kiss and say, "Agnes is a better kisser," you jokingly say to bruise his little ego.

"Yeah?" He says with an eyebrow raised.

"Why don't you try yourself?" You dare him.

Jack turns to the other side and Agnes doesn't give him one second to prepare himself, showing him how to get it done. You take your drink and sip it while watching them kiss in front of you.

YOU: I kissed Jack not because I have a feeling for him. We're just having fun [shrugs]

It was an eventful night.

Even though you have no idea what Minho did the rest of the night, you don't want to think too much about it, especially after what you've done behind him.

Thankfully, Lana hasn't announced any rule breaks yet and you can sleep in peace for tonight.

You walk to the bedroom in heavy steps and hate that you're feeling scared that Minho suddenly decides to sleep with someone else after being busy flirting with everyone the whole night.

You never know with him and this time, there's no excitement, it's just anxiety. You push the door with your shoulder and find the bed is still empty, you reckon he's still washing up.

Jack flashes you a smile as you get under the cover and it's only making you more anxious. You get startled when the bed shifts as Minho climbs from the other side.

Since he's not that cuddly of a person, you take his arm out so you can rest your head on it and snuggle close to his side, letting out a quiet sigh of relief.

"How was your night, my beautiful man?" You ask, your hand gently rubbing down his clothed chest.

"Good," he replies, twirling his finger around the thin strap of your black tank top.

"I can make it better," you whisper, lowering your hand down until your fingers meet the waistband of his boxer.

He looks at you and one corner of his mouth raises into his signature half-smirk, "No one is stopping you."

Bryan catches the two of you being suspicious and points it out at everyone, "Hands where I can see them!" He orders.

Instead of complying, Minho shoves your other hand under the cover and keeps them there.

"Minho, man, come on!" Bryan hopelessly scolds him.

It's in the dark that Minho once again starts his exploration.

He pulls you by the waist until there's not an inch of gap left between your bodies, you perfectly mold into his body as he spoons you from behind.

As he presses his lips on the nape of your neck, his hand traces the side of your body, stopping on the back of your thigh to squeeze the soft flesh there.

"I've been good tonight," he whispers to you.

You softly chuckle, not expecting that he'll be asking for what you promised him.

Without turning, you softly slip your hand in his hair, "Really?"

He places a long peck on your jaw, "mmh."

You turn to lay on your stomach and prop a hand under your head, leisurely looking at his beautiful face in the dark.

The plan was you're going to tease him just like he did with you the other night but after what you did and the assurance you got from that misbehavior. You want to show him that you don't want to play a game tonight, or ever again.

Tenderly, you caress his face and hold his jaw as you lean in, kissing him so slowly yet passionately. Minho seems to sense that there's something different about the kiss.

He brushes your hair to the side and holds it there as he returns the kiss to you, his other hand is slipped under your tanktop, splayed on your back with his thumb faintly rubbing the skin.

If only breathing wasn't necessary, you would keep kissing him.

You pull away and press your head close to the side of his head, placing little kisses on his jaw.

"That's money well spent," you comment.

He turns his head to face you and it only entices you to kiss him again but immediately refrain out of the fear of being head-locked by Bryan's giant arms tomorrow.

You sweetly kiss his cheek and lowly mutter, "Goodnight!"

Minho glides his hand up to your neck and looks at you, "Goodnight!"

YOU: Honestly, I wasn't thinking of Minho when I kissed Jack but after it happened, it only got to me then that I really like him.

When you wake up, anxiety dawns on you.

You feel sick in the stomach when Lana chimes in and lights up in the corner of the room.

"Good morning, everyone!"

You silently plead that Lana would not drop the news this soon. Not when you just woke up from a nice, long sleep with Minho cuddling you all night.

"Morning," you meekly answer with a yawn at the end and accidentally meet Agnes's eyes on the next bed, exchanging a knowing, uneasy glance.

"Today's weather will be sunny with highs of 82⁰ Fahrenheit and there will be zero chance of sex."

Jai breaks into laughter and puts his arm around Agnes's shoulder, "She's fucking quality, she is."

The day barely started, you can already tell it's not going to be a good one. You're counting down the minutes or even seconds until Lana tells everyone all of your sins.

YOU: I'm a bit on edge. Not a bit actually. I'm on THE edge.

Even after a session of yoga with Alia, doesn't help you relax at all.

You've done this plenty of times before, going from one casual partner to another in the blink of an eye and never feeling the slightest bit guilty about it. You don't know what changed when you're playing the same game and the only difference is that you're doing it with Minho.

It's after you showered and are immersed in the girl's talk while doing your make-up you finally can have a little peace.

"Have you cracked big boy Bryan yet?" You ask Zara.

Zara carefully swipes the brush on her cheekbones to apply some highlighter, "Girl, as if!"

"That big body comes with a tough personality too," Agnes comments, squinting her eyes to draw a neat line of black eyeliner.

"When we cuddle in bed, he locked me with his arms to make sure I didn't do anything," Zara rants, borrowing your pencil liner without asking.

"You should be grateful that he didn't headlock you to sleep," Alia chimes in as she braids her hair in front of the mirror.

You and Agnes are breaking into laughter at the same time.

That's when Lana decides that it's time for judgment. The cone chimes, startling everyone in the dressing room.

"Hello, girls!" She says.

Zara fans her eyes as she just puts on her fake lashes, "What's up, Lana?"

"Please gather everyone to the cabana!" She orders.

You exchange a knowing and uneasy glance with Agnes as your heart is beating out of your chest. Every step you take to get to the cabana is getting heavier the closer you get there.

There's a space next to Minho on the sofa but sitting next to him will only make you more anxious. You sit in the middle between Luca and Maisie, it's safer to be out of Minho's sight.

"I wonder who kissed who?" Luca asks with a haunting tone.

YOU: Counting my own mistakes, I know for sure that I broke the rules three times [shakes head in disappointment]

Your concern is not the money.

You believe someone else broke a rule or two as well. For example, everyone knew about Jai and Agnes's kiss at the beach.

Also, you're not afraid to admit the ones you committed together with Minho, it's the other ones that you're not proud of.

The sickening sound of Lana coming online makes your heart drop to your stomach.

"Hello, everyone!"

You can't find it in you to reply to her and awkwardly smile in response while everyone else is weakly returning her greeting.

"You were brought here to form deeper emotional connections and were given rules to adhere to. Those rules forbid sexual contact."

Even though Lana is a high-tech virtual assistant, you can hear in her voice that she's not pleased with everyone.

"Despite this, yesterday, your flagrant disregard for the rules has resulted in a deduction of $21,000."

There is a mix of shrieks, gasps, and curses happening all at once. Well, at least, now you know you're not the only one spending the money.

"You guys are blowing it," Alia says in disappointment.

"In total, there were seven rule breaks," Lana shares further details.

YOU: I contributed three out of those seven rule breaks but who did the other four? [squints eyes]

"Time to fess up!" Bryan calls the shot.

Everyone is looking at each other and trying to see any guilty faces. After a while, Minho points at you and calmly says, "I kissed her twice."

Now, that's a man. Minho doesn't falter as he owns up to his misdeeds and even says that it was he who kissed you when in fact, you were the first one to cave in to the temptations.

Maybe it's because of how fast Minho comes clean about it or it could be because of how overwhelming for him to know that two rules have been broken, Bryan only sighs and then moves on to find where the rest of the money went, "how about the other five?"

You gulp air again and pass the turn to someone else. Jai has the worst poker face he can't keep himself from grinning, "We did too," he says while half laughing, "You guys knew we did it on the beach once and did it again last night."

Agnes is looking down on her lap as Jai admits everything and adds an apology at the end, "I'm sorry, you guys!"

Bryan closes his eyes and his eyelids flutter, "Okay then, anyone else?"

Luca who's sitting next to you suddenly raises his hand, "I kissed Maisie last night," he confesses.

That is not what you expect and you're aware that you're getting in between them by sitting there. You didn't know Maisie had given up on Minho already.

"Just once!" He quickly adds.

Maisie even backs him up right after, "We shared a moment and we wanted to see if there's chemistry."

That shocks everyone but Bryan seems to give him a pass for only breaking one rule. Not sure what he'll do when he finds out about the last two rule breaks.

Agnes has been avoiding everyone's eyes and you don't expect much from Jack, he's staying quiet because no one suspects anything because he's harmless and the youngest.

YOU: But I have to be honest, right?

"I kissed Jack," you blurt out.

There's a long pause then Zara snaps her head in your direction, "What?"

Luca laughs next to you, "Look at him, sitting there all quiet," he says and keeps laughing afterward

A grin blooms on Jack's face, maybe it's the grand scene that he's been pictured in his head that he's not what everyone thought he was.

"Well, it's obviously because I like her," he shortly explains.

He rubs his chin and continues speaking, "And I don't regret that one if I'm being honest."

You've been avoiding looking at Minho's direction but you get the urge to see his reaction, not sure what you're expecting but he looks strangely calm about this.

When he's about to look your way, you hurriedly look away though.

You turn to look at the other culprit who's smiling like an angel next to her guy and you can't go down on your own.

"Agnes!" You call and wait until she looks at you to say, "You kissed Jack too!'

"WHAT?" Zara gasps and then covers her mouth, her eyes widen in surprise.

"Why did you do that?" Bryan asks since she's sitting close to her.

Jai who's sitting next to her looks not pleased at all, leaning back with his hands balled into fists on his sides. You would love to see Minho get a little upset too but when you glance his way, he looks not bothered at all.

Now that the offenders have admitted their crimes, Lana can announce the damages done to the prize money.

"I must also inform you that with these multiple rule breaks that happened in the last 24 hours, I have been left with no choice but to double the fine as of this moment."

Bryan's face drops onto his big hands and brushes his head to the back, making his combed hair disheveled in a second.

"Which means $42,000 has been deducted from the prize fund."

There are moans and groans of complaints but there's nothing anyone can do except try to keep their hands to themselves from now on.

"No more spending!" Bryan remarks, crossing his muscular hands together to form the letter X.

Everyone else is nodding in agreement but with almost a quarter of the prize money lost in one day, you're not the only one feeling pessimistic that there would be money left at the end of the retreat.

YOU: That means I spent $18,000 in one night? Whoops.

What makes them think that doing bondage in a workshop would help to take your mind off sex?

You're not sure if that's what the workshop is going to be but you see the waxed ropes and that's the first thing you have in mind.

"Today, we're going to learn Shibari," the guest sex expert announces.

"An ancient Japanese technique used to improve intimacy and trust in relationships," she shares with everyone.

Minho and you have no problem with intimacy but with what you've done recently, it seems that Minho is likely to have a trust issue with you.

"It's a bit more risque but it really does teach people how to trust which is the foundation for any long-lasting relationship," the expert further explains.

"Have you guys ever played with bondage, handcuffs, or any type of restraints?" The expert asks.

A few raise their hands in pride and you see Minho as the experimental type, always open to everything. You don't see him raising his hand, he's too busy shielding his face from the sun.

You take the first turn and can't decide which one you want to do, you haven't done this. Picking up the smaller rope in red color, you decide to do the simplest one called the Hand Prayer tie.

Minho doesn't need to be told, he puts both hands together in front of him and lets you tie rope around it.

"It goes around the middle fingers," he instructed.

As expected, Minho knows how to do this. It's a piece of information that both excites and scares you but in the best way.

After a lot of errors, you are finally done and not impressed with how you didn't tie the rope tight enough that Minho has no problem taking it off without your help.

YOU: Oh, yep, just exactly what Minho needs right now: tie me up.

"Are you ready?" Minho asks as he takes the bigger rope in the color black.

Now that he's about to tie you, you suddenly get a little nervous too.

"No," you answer with a low laugh.

He starts by turning you around, making you stand with your back facing him, not allowing you to see which knot he's going to do with.

"Hands to the back," he orders with his head looming on your shoulder.

You comply right away, putting your hands to the back.

"Shibari is based on power play. When you're the person with the rope, the rigger, you're actually the one who is surrendering and trusting your partner," the expert says as she walks around watching everyone tying each other up.

That's what you're going to do, you're going to trust Minho and he'll be having too much fun with it but he'll do nothing to hurt you.

The second the rope brushes with your skin, you feel a chill down your spine and when Minho pulls them, tightening them around your wrists, you let out a low moan.

Once he's done with the hands, he tidies the ends of the rope before instructing you to lay on your stomach on the mat

You're getting even more nervous as he bends your legs to the back and ties them together.

"Too tight?" He asks.

You test the knot by twisting your ankles together but it doesn't budge at all, "mmh," you hum in answer.

"Good," he calmly responds.

If this is his way of getting back at you then you just have to accept it. You should be grateful that he doesn't tie the rope around your neck.

He then brings your hands and legs together, tying them with the rest of the rope. He pulls at it to make sure the knot is securely tied.

You try to wiggle your body and try any way you can to break away but it's a fruitless effort, you're running out of breath from lying on your stomach for too long.

Minho notices and helps you to turn over, but your hands are now pressed under your body as you lay on your back.

"I can't get out of this," you tell him as he stands, towering over your body.

"No, you can't," he says with a malicious grin.

Minho then lays next to you on the mat, scoots closer to shield you from the sun, and then props a hand under his head as he enjoys watching you helplessly lying next to him.

"You're enjoying this," you say.

That's a wrong thing to say because he hasn't started yet. He picks a flower from the plant near him and uses it to caress your body, dragging the soft petal down the front of your body.

He knows that it does things to you and he can see it from the way your chest is heaving as the flower reaches to your lower abdomen.

Your legs are slightly shaking as he drags it lower and then stops right on the elastic band of your bikini bottom, tugging the flower there.

YOU: I must say it's the best kind of punishment. I don't even think it's a punishment [winks]

"Why did you kiss him?"

You know that Zara has been waiting to ask you that from the moment she found out about it.

You dab your face with a layer of foundation to get ready for the night, "I don't know. I was having fun."

She gives you a scolding look and tips her head to the side, "Girl!"

"I know but at that time I was feeling like... You know, it was so easy to break the rules," you honestly answer because you did feel that way.

There was nothing intimate about the kiss with Jack, if anything it was selfish of you to spend money on a meaningless kiss. You can see now how foolish you were for doing that.

"But instead of upset, I am so jealous of you," she says with a sad sigh.

You get quiet because you know how hard it is for her to even try to tempt Bryan to break the rules with her.

"He didn't even let me cuddle him," she adds.

It's a good thing that Bryan wants to be on Lana's good side but he disregards Zara's opinions about it, putting her needs aside which makes him just as selfish as you are.

YOU: The plan is I'm going to look hot, be a good girl, and talk to Minho. Wish me luck [Crosses fingers]

Taking a glass of drink to fuel your courage, you check if Minho is in a good mood before coming and start talking to him.

"Can I sit with you?" You ask for his permission when you usually would plop down next to him without asking.

He glances up and nods, "Yeah."

Minho doesn't talk much and you should be used to his short, concise answers but it seems a little different tonight, there's an edge to it.

You sit next to him and put a space in between, "You look good tonight," you compliment.

Minho is indeed looking good tonight. That's why he model, because everything looks good on him but you bet that he looks better with nothing on.

He tips his head to one side and looks at the dress you're wearing, "You too," he compliments back with a thin smile.

A little attention is better than nothing. You sweetly smile and mutter, "Aw, thank you!"

Before you forget your initial reason because of just one compliment, you remind yourself that you come to talk.

"So... how are we feeling?" You ask, testing the water before diving right into it.

"About what?" He innocently asks.

You lick your lips before answering, "About the kiss."

"Which kiss?"

Your palms are getting sweaty on your lap. It's like whatever answer you're going to give him would be a wrong one.

"Our kisses or...?" He asks again because you stay quiet.

You take a breath and try to slowly explain everything, "I think the kisses we shared are special. I can see that we have chemistry and connection."

He tilts his head low enough to give you the stare, "If that's so then why did you kiss someone else?"

You keep your calm and answer, "That kiss with Jack, it was nothing. I don't have any feelings for him so you don't have to worry about that."

Minho responds with a nod but no words come out of his slightly parted mouth.

YOU: I usually just walk away from a situation like this and stop caring about it but I want to make this work with him.

"Are you mad at me?" You ask because that's what you're dying to know.

He's been too calm that you start to think that he probably doesn't like you to even care about it but he only replies with a shrug.

"I don't want you to be mad at me because I do like you," you tell him to get an answer out of him.

He stares at you and makes you wait in anticipation to get a response from him. After a while, he leans back on the sofa and says, "We'll see."

You usually like the mystery those words bring whenever Minho says that but not this time.

"'We'll see'? What is that supposed to mean?" You ask in pure confusion.

"I need time," he answers.

You scoff and try to process his answer, "You want me to sit around and wait for like what? A week? Ten days?"

He slumps down the sofa and spreads his legs, casually he says, "I need time to get over it so until then... We'll see."

YOU: I kissed Jack because I saw Minho flirting with the other girls so why am I the only one having to wait for him to come around?

"Okay," you meekly say even though you're not sure that he'll get over it before the retreat ends.

You think that this is possibly his way to keep his options open or maybe that your fear is true, he doesn't like you that much. You just like to play games with each other.

"Are we still going to sleep in the same bed?"

"I don't know," he replies.

This is probably the right time to cut everything off before you get too attached to him when the options are still wide open and who knows that Lana will bring more guests to the retreat, there are many possibilities so why do you have to trap yourself in such a confusing situation and wasting your time on one guy?

You look away and shrug, "Okay, alright."

YOU: If Minho doesn't want to give me what I want then I'll just have to get it from someone else.

You're not tired but you're so ready for bed. You brush your hair quickly before going to the bedroom.

You don't look around but going to Jack's bed, you put the duvet away and say, "Come on, you're sleeping with me tonight," you tell him.

He looks taken aback but awkwardly follows you as you climb onto the bed you shared with Minho for the past two days.

Agnes is giving you the questioning look but just like everyone else, they don't say anything but let the drama unfold.

You get under the cover with him and turn to the side to look at him, "Are you cuddly, Jack?"

He pauses for a moment then says, "I am."

"I love good cuddles."

"Yeah?" He asks with a gleeful grin and eyes that are filled with hopeful glints.

"Of course."

YOU: I told you, Jack is my cute boy toy.

You slip your hand in his curls and play with it, at the same time, watching the door because Minho can come at any minute now.

"Your hair is so soft," you comment.

The door swings open and Minho steps inside, stopping on his track for a second to see that someone else has taken his spot.

The brief look he gives you is enough to make you gulp air, he's saying nothing but has to share a bed with Alia.

The silence is suffocating as everyone watches intently every gesture or expression on either you or Minho to get any hints about what's happening between the two of you.

Their eyes are going back and forth because your beds are facing each other.

"Don't you feel a little hot, Jack?" You ask.

"Uhm..." he hums as he thinks of an answer to such an easy question, "I think so."

You sit on the bed and look in Minho's direction, not necessarily seeing him eye to eye. You take your top off, not caring that this will be broadcasted all over the world and everyone can see your tits.

"Oh... fuck..." you hear Jack curses under his breath next to you.

Minho takes a sip of water from his tumbler and you can see that his jaw tensed as he swallows his water.

Once the lights are out, you get under the cover and turn to the side to face Jack. For someone who kissed two girls at once, he's playing safe by keeping his hands away from you.

You lean in close to his pillow, "How was your day?"

He rakes his brain to answer another simple question, "Can't complain," he answers.

You giggle because of how cute he is, how oblivious to the fact that you're using him to make Minho jealous. When you think about the kiss you shared with him, he isn't that bad of a kisser, he was too excited at that time to focus on using his skill.

You kind of want to give him a second chance so you lean in closer and ask him, "What do you think about spending 6 grand tonight?"

YOU: We'll see? No, Minho. You'll see.

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the-s1lly-corner · 11 months

Text

He accidentally hurts you (Eyeless Jack edition)

I've been meaning to explore something like this and I'm still hungry for angst! Very heavy on my hc of "eyeless jack is cursed and has moments where his monstrous side takes a hold of him especially when it craves flesh",

Basic idea is reader gets hurt, jack smells blood, curse immediately totally takes over, blah blah things happen

More fan fiction-y than my usual short headcannons, but still using the bullet point format since I couldnt commit to the bit

Cw for mild injury, blood, mentions of SH but I wont dwell on it

Not proof read we die like Jack's self esteem

It wasnt too often that the ugliest side of Jack's curse showed itself; at least that's what you thought. You were under the impression that it happened rarely, due to the fact that you only visit Jack when he gives you the go ahead, on nights where he knows it wouldn't be an issue

But tonight, as your anniversary draws near, you decided to drop in unexpected for a night with your boyfriend. It was hard enough getting to his cabin, what with the rain and it being dark..

When you made it to his door, you could hear... noises..

Growls, hisses, howls; all pained. It sounded like there was a fight happening on the other side of the door... the sound of things being thrown and someone's body slamming against the walls made your worry spike

Of course you opened the door, fearing that someone had intruded into your partners cabin.. but when you threw it open, you saw that Jack was alone. Covered in bruises, and his arms bloodied with claw marks and bite wounds; showing off his blackened, inky blood. The man's small body heaved with ragged breaths as his empty sockets locked onto you

You quickly explained yourself after assessing that he was in one of his.. low points..

He wanted you to leave, but the rain had become to pour harsher outside; far too dangerous to walk out alone

And how could you leave him be when he was so obviously wounded? You insisted on patching him up, to which Jack reluctantly agreed to.

So you took him to the bathroom and took out his small first aid kit, and got to work.

Washing the wounds, adding pressure to where he needed it, added bandages. When you were done, you placed a light kiss on his arms

That seemed to soften him up, even through his building bloodlust and hunger

"I'll go get some bedding and we can set camp out in the living room," you said, trying to keep him pacified. He seemed to enjoy the idea..

He was smiling.. that's good, and his breathing seemed to calm down just a touch, though it was still on the.. hissy growly side..

You headed to his room, gathered some of his comforters and pillows, and walked to the living room, then went to his room a second time to grab his radio, knowing it can help keep him calm.

Unfortunately; due to the cabin being run down, one of the wooden floorboards was loose and lightly curled upwards... and, well. You tripped. You managed to save the radio, somehow, but your face slammed down onto the floor

Instant nosebleed

You cursed, and pressed a finger up to your upper lip.. yep, that's blood.. lots of it, the burning in your face intensifying as the pain set in, making your eyes water

Before you even had time to process anything else, a growl caught your attention. Spinning around, still on the floor, you saw Jack. The leaking ink of his eyes doubled in pace and volume; making a mess of his face and shirt as his bared teeth flashed down at you, nose flared and ears peaked at attention. Because of course, how could you forget, the smell of blood is basically a death sentence when Jack's curse is flared.

Your mind raced as you scooted backwards, Jack seemed to be fighting himself; but he lost. Before you could choose between running or bracing, he jumped on you

Bracing it was, then. Your arms shot up in front of you, and you felt white hot pain almost immediately

But just as soon as he jumped on you, you felt him pull himself off. Blood was all over his jaw, and getting spread all over the floor as he began to force himself to spit it out. Growls were replaced by low whines, before he scampered off, leaving you alone

It all happened so fast you were left confused on the floor, holding your arm. It felt worse than it looked; his teeth didnt seem to go that deep, and since he didnt... pull at you with his teeth still in, you were still intact... that was nice, at least..

Your mind went back to racing as you processed what happened.. you needed to get cleaned up before Jack slipped again

And that's exactly what you did; you rushed into the bathroom you were in just earlier, and began the process of cleaning the wound..

After a minute, the door cracked open; Jack peered in, more mellowed out than before but guilt was written all over his face. It was clear he was still struggling with his hunger, and you can tell just by looking that he was debating whether or not to approach you

His face twisted in pain when he, although hard to tell due to his lack of eyes, seemed to glance at the wound

"Its not that bad," you insist, but he shook his head. "You could have died.. I should have dealt with this sooner, you shouldn't have to.." he trailed off, "get hurt," he finished. His ears drooped slightly as he slumped. He pushed the door open, and entered the bathroom

His hands shook slightly as he removed yours from your arm. "Its my fault, I need to fix it.." he mumbled. You didn't push him away, although it may have been a dumb idea to let the starving man eater handle your bloodied arm

Cleaned, applied pressure, bandaged

He stared at the bandages, still holding your arm in his hands

You finally noticed just how cold he was. Jack was always on the cooler side, but at the moment he was freezing, even though he was covered in a layer of sweat

He ran his clawed fingers along where the wound would be, as light as a feather, as not to risk hurting you again

He leaned down, and lightly pressed a kiss to the bandages; just as you done for him

"Im so sorry," he whimpered, leaving another kiss

"You shouldn't have to be put in danger just to try to help me," his eyes welled with inky tears, and he left another kiss

"You shouldn't have to see me like this," his voice creaked out, another kiss

He was about to lay down a fifth kiss, but you stopped him

You reassure him; it wasn't exactly his fault. He didnt ask to be cursed, he didn't mean any of this to happen, he had been roped and manipulated into the situation that made him this way. You reassured him that you'd heal, and you weren't going to think badly of him, how you took the chance for something like this to happen when you first got together. Things like that. Though, this will call for a more in depth discussion about how to prevent this in the future, make a system and means of communication so he can warn you ahead of time during flare ups... but right now, comfort was top priority

It took a minute, but his tears slowed and he got control on his breathing. He whimpered, before peeling himself off of you

He backed off, but you tugged him into your arms

Cue the waterworks, again. You both hugged, not speaking.. just standing there for a few minutes. He rested his head on your chest, and you rested yours in his shoulder. You pulled away, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Do you still want me to stay?", you asked. He looked conflicted. He didnt want to run the risk, but he didnt want to be alone. Besides, the storm was still raging outside

"Why don't you.. stay here tonight, I'll step out.." he said softly as he stepped back. He cut you off before you could respond, "I'll be back soon, I just.. need to get this.." he gestured to himself, "dealt with, I don't feel safe having you around.. its only a matter of time before.. " he trailed off. You nodded, "I understand.. be back in the morning?"

He hesitated, before nodding back, "I'll be back as soon as I can be," he said quietly

You let him make his way to the front door, tugging his hold and mask on

"I love you," you said as you watched him open the door

He paused.

"I love you, too," he said, the cracks returning in his voice, likely choking down his emotions again

"We'll talk.. more about this in the morning," he added, smoother this time

"Alrighty," was all you said

And he left for the night, closing the door behind him

WOOOO

I hope that wasny too bad

This was really just a VERY vague idea I had for a few days that i wanted to write but I'm too lazy to do proof reading and rough drafts <\3 and im not used to writing longer detailed stuff like this, let alone dialogue

I hope it's not too cringe, I feel like the ending it rushed because

Erm

I didnt know how to end it

Yay

Eyeless jack angst

#creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack imagine #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack headcanon #eyeless jack #eyeless jack angst #angst

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yourantag · 1 month

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The Red Means I Love You (Edgar×Reader)

AN: This was supposed to be finished and posted on Valentine's Day. However, as you can see from the word count, that was a fool's errand. I wanted to delve more into yanderes since I find them fascinating in writing, and now, here we are. Staining White Day red, I present to you the most generic title for an Edgar fic you will ever see. (Btw, I apologize to Edgar fans- I might've massacred your boy but I swear I tried my best.) Word count: 4.9k words TW: Blood, violence, murder, yandere themes, and blackmailing. Summary: Accepting the invitation of a dubious letter sounds just about as bad as it actually was. Oletus manor is not a name spoken without notoriety, after all. Was that where it all began? Was this your first mistake? No, it was further down the line, wasn't it? Yes, perhaps it was when you became the muse of an artist with no inspiration.

Reality has disappointed you time and time again. The expectations of a life of peace was crushed easily under the hands of society. So, you fled. You fled inside your head, transporting yourself into worlds of fiction. Romance, mystery, fantasy, and the likes kept you alive. It was the only thing you could really call safe.

Among many genres, you favored one above the others.

Horror.

There’s a certain comfort that comes from these fictional tales. You know they aren’t real, that the killer can’t find you, that these psychopaths don’t exist. Are there people similar to them? Sure, but they aren’t in your life. Thus, they merely stay as silly little people within a book.

But, it’s not quite enough. The thrill of words upon a page cannot compete with the real deal. While you weren’t stupid enough to seek out murderers or the like, you were still dumb enough for Baron DeRoss, apparently.

The envelope is white as a dove, a blood red stamp sealing it shut. It whispers promises and praise, false hope and rewards. It’s an enticing offer, truly. Would you let it guide you astray?

Well, you were never one to turn away from the call of the abyss.

“I really don’t get it. I know it’s game changing, but it’s not helpful for anyone else but me! Why do they want me to team up with them?” You huffed, resting your face on your palms. Edgar merely rolled his eyes, flicking his wrist. Focused on the canvas in front of him, he let the brush streak red through white.

“You said it yourself, your abilities are game changing. We don’t even know the full extent of your abilities– who knows? Maybe you could completely uproot the current meta. Besides,” He smirked, peering at you from the corner of his eye. “The hunters are terrified of you.”

You paused, letting your arms fall flat against the table.

“Scared? Of me? I’m just another survivor– what do they have to be afraid of?”

Edgar hummed, tapping the handle end of his paint brush against his lips. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t quite fancy being stabbed.”

Okay, yeah, that was fair.

Most survivors didn’t possess the ability to fight the hunter, not really, yet here you were. When Jack had first chased you, he had the reckoning of his life. You wince at the phantom feeling of stabbing steel into flesh and bone. That was, admittedly, not what you had expected to be your special skill.

You pouted, cheek against the cool wood of Edgar’s table as you glanced around. His room was an odd combination of an art exhibition hall and an actual bedroom. It was big and extravagant, but you wouldn’t expect any less from him.

Well, kind of.

Edgar confused you. Intriguing, even among the sea of other unique characters within the manor. You suppose that’s why he’s your favorite comrade and closest friend, if you could call him that. He’s never kicked you out of his room or flat out yelled at you, so safe to say he didn’t hate you, at least.

He’s neutral on all matters within the manor, composed regardless of what he faced. All he cared about was his art, nothing more and nothing less. Perhaps that was how he was unaffected by everything.

You suppose that’s natural for an artist. You can’t claim to understand it perfectly, but in a way, you truly understood.

“It’s like… you’re a moth drawn to a flame, right? Art is something you’re willing to give your life to, dedicate your whole body and soul to. Even if you have to sacrifice your time, energy, or health, for the perfect outcome, you’d do it.” You had said it off handedly, not thinking much of it then. In some respects, wasn’t his passion for art just like your obsession with thrill?

But then he had grabbed your hands, looking into your eyes with such fervor. His gaze burned, a certain desperation flickering within it. What was he seeking so fiercely? What was making Edgar, apathetic, snide Edgar, act like he had found an oasis in the desert?

“You get it?” He whispered, almost pleading.

“Maybe,” You responded.

That had been enough for him.

Since then, you and Edgar had become an odd pair. Not quite friends, but too close to be acquaintances. You gravitated towards him, as he did to you. More often than not, you’d ask him if he’d like to team up for matches. More often than not, he’d say yes.

You suppose that’s another reason why other survivors regard you with care.

Edgar isn’t the most difficult person to work with, but definitely not the easiest. He’s all too much and too little: haughty and snide, distant and cold. He’s a reliable teammate, not a likable one.

Still, the playful sparkle in his eyes as he led the hunter straight to you made you beg to differ. You’d curse him out as you ran, glaring at him after the match was over, before begrudgingly thanking him for supporting you with a painting or two.

However odd it was, you wouldn’t trade your friendship for the world.

There’s a letter in your mailbox.

That isn’t especially weird, considering that’s what a mailbox is for. Letters, mail, packages, whatever. Still, you can’t help but pause as you stare at it. A white envelope with a lovely red seal, the stamp itself in the shape of a camellia. The embossed flower is outlined in gold, shimmering softly in the low light of your room.

Gently, you pry open the seal, careful not to damage it or the envelope. Once you’ve successfully extracted the letter without destroying everything, you stare at it with uncertainty.

It seemed like this was a love letter from the presentation alone, yet you couldn’t help but feel a bit unsettled. You couldn’t understand why, however. It was beautiful, but simple. It wasn’t overwhelming, nor alarming. So why, from the depths of your heart, was your subconscious screaming at you to run? As though you were about to open Pandora’s box?

You unfold the letter and read.

Edgar gives you the nastiest side eye you’ve ever seen. Perhaps you deserve it after the stunt you pulled. Then again, what else were you supposed to do? He was going to be sent back to the manor if you hadn’t let yourself go down.

In the end, thanks to your sacrifice, the potential tie had turned into a win. Sure, you were the one sent back to the manor instead, but a win was a win! Though, Edgar seemed to disagree.

“You’re an idiot.”

You would be offended if it weren’t for the fact that he was wrapping your wounds. The tender touches were barely there, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings. He was being careful, making sure you didn’t feel even an ounce of unnecessary pain. The concentration he was putting into taking care of you was something you had only seen when Edgar was painting.

The subtle quirk of his lips, eyes barely narrowed, and relaxed shoulders expressed more to you than any words ever could. The guilt that pooled into his chest, made evident by the quiet sighs he’d let out, seemed to manifest itself as kindness and gentle care.

It made you really want to tease him.

“Ow!” You hiss, flinching slightly away from the man. Edgar freezes, staring at you with concern.

“Shit– sorry, I didn’t mean to.” The sincere remorse in his voice immediately makes you regret your decision.

“Wait, wait, wait, no, I– gah, sorry. I was just messing with you.”

The painter’s formerly soft expression faded into a scowl, a glare sent your way even as he finished wrapping you up. Edgar immediately stands up, leaving you scrambling to do the same as he leaves the infirmary.

“Ahhhh, wait, I’m sorry! Wait, Edgar, I’m sorry, I swear I won’t do that again! C’mon, don’t leave me like this! I–” You trip on something, stumbling as you lose balance. You fully expect to kiss the ground, what with one of your arms in a cast, when lithe arms catch you.

You glance up at Edgar with a sheepish smile, gazing upon the apathetic look upon his face. Apathetic, to anyone else but you. You can see the little curl of his lips, the faint swirl of amusement in his eyes.

He helps you reorient yourself, hands on your shoulders. Once you’re safely standing, Edgar turns and continues down the hallway. His steps are slower than usual. It’s probably the closest you’ll get to an invitation.

You grin, chasing after him once more.

“So does this mean you forgive me?”

“No.”

“How do you manage to stay sane, painting the same thing over and over again?” You ask, half dangling off a couch. Edgar’s room is still as grand as ever, but you can see the changes. It seems more lived in, more homey. There’s a table that isn’t covered in paint, brushes, or other art supplies. There’s shelves with books instead of art supplies. Then, those cabinets have, wait for it, something other than art supplies.

It seems like a small shift to others, though that’s probably because they don’t visit Edgar half as often as you do. The first time you saw the couch, you thought you were hallucinating.

The Edgar Valden, using something other than a stool? Incredible, revolutionary, absolutely groundbreaking.

He did not appreciate your dramatics, or so he claimed, but you knew he was covering his mouth to hide his smile.

“I’m not painting the same thing, and I am, in fact, going insane.” Edgar responds, frown deepening as he mixes a few colors together. You hum, peeking at the canvas as much as you can from your position. From the sketch, you could tell it was a portrait. A rare occurrence, considering Edgar preferred landscapes.

“Why the sudden interest in portraits?” You ask, sitting more comfortably on the couch. Glancing at the shelves, you skim through the books. Edgar wouldn’t mind if you read one of them, right?

The man pauses, his expression almost bashful. It’s so bizarre you can’t help but raise a brow. Edgar has never been afraid to draw attention to himself. He’s no pushover, willing to fight for what he wants while still remaining relatively neutral. To see him like that, a dust of what can only be blush upon his cheeks, twists something in your heart.

Before you can untangle what exactly you were feeling, the painter coughs.

“Well, I tried talking with Victor about expressing oneself. He suggested letters, or other mediums I’m comfortable with. So…” Edgar stares at his canvas, his smile more so a grimace. “I’m trying out his suggestion, I suppose.”

You tilt your head, humming to yourself as you nod. Sliding off the couch, you grab one of the books on Edgar’s shelf. “Well, then I wish you the best of luck.”

His eyes linger on you, closing softly as his expression relaxes. When he opens them again, he starts creating new hues with more focus.

“I’ve been getting letters recently.” You mention, flipping another page in your book. Edgar paused, turning to look at you.

“And?”

You closed your eyes, contemplating. This really wasn’t something you had to tell him. But, well, nothing too interesting has been happening lately. The matches have finally grown duller, the thrill fading as you stayed longer. You were running out of things to ramble about, so why not?

“They’re love letters. Nicely decorated, with neat handwriting. If I had to guess, someone born into privilege.” You think Edgar flinches at that.

“It’s really sweet, honestly. A shame they’re anonymous.” You skim over the words on the page, brows knitting themselves tight. The main character was oblivious to the danger so close to them. How frustrating.

“A shame, really.” Edgar echoes back, delicately brushing shadows along the red camellias. His painting seemed nearly finished, if you only stared at the beautiful flowers. The rest of the canvas was rather barren, a figure still not yet painted whole.

“C’mon, theorize with me! Who could it be? I put my bets on Jack.” You sighed dramatically, head thrown back with your hand on your forehead.

You received no response, however.

“Hear me out! He called me darling, dear, and tried to kill me. Obviously, he fell for my sick kiting skills and great looks. I rest my case.” Still, nothing.

You were getting really worried with how unresponsive Edgar was being. Usually, when you started overexaggerating like that, he’d make a snarky remark. Something like “please, you get terror shocked at 5 ciphers” or “you make amphibians look appealing.”

The silence was really getting to you.

“I mean, he’s got confidence in spades so it probably isn’t him. Still, I kinda hope it is, he’s rather attrac–” SNAP!

Your head snaps up from your book, turning to Edgar so quickly you nearly give yourself whiplash. There, in his hands, are the remains of a broken paint brush. Blood oozes from his tightly clenched hands, slowly trickling down his palm and under the cuff of his shirt. That was reason for concern as is, but the most startling thing of all was his eyes.

Blue, like the sky. Blue, like the sea. Blue, like the wings of a morpho butterfly.

Blue, like the swirling vortex of the night sky.

You rush over, grabbing the first aid kit you know he keeps for you, before standing next to him. You’ve never seen him like this, eyes so dark and blank. It’s honestly scaring you a little, but that means nothing when he’s hurt.

So, you kneel, pulling out tweezers, disinfectants, and bandages. Gently prying his hand open, you discard the larger pieces of the brush. With the tweezers, you pick out splinters of wood embedded in his skin. You whisper apologies as you do, knowing this definitely hurts, but he doesn’t so much as flinch.

By the time you finally disinfect his hand and wrap it, Edgar seems a lot more like himself than before. He gazes at you with quiet consideration, blinking slowly. Languid, calm, almost cat-like.

“Are you okay?” You ask, holding his hand. In all the time you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him react like that. The kinder side of you hopes it’ll never happen again, if only so he won’t needlessly hurt himself like that. The morbid side of you wants to see him like that again, what you can distinguish as cold, searing rage threatening to consume him whole.

Edgar leans his head forward and onto your shoulder. The scent of citrus, chamomile, and something chemical tickles your nose, brushing against you as the painter sighs. He seems… tired.

“Let me rest my head, just for a bit.”

You don’t have the heart to say no.

The next few letters you get are… odd. Passionate as always, but far more obsessive. The first few had been sweeter, more tender. This was escalating in a weird direction, and as much as you loved yourself a good horror story, romance and horror never mix well. They were starting to threaten you, saying they’d hurt the people around you, and that was where you drew the line.

So, you start ignoring them. It sounds foolish, especially for a connoisseur of all things freaky, but life is more mundane than fiction. If this person doesn’t have the guts to confess to you, does it make sense that they’d have the guts to actually go through with their threats? Logically, no.

Besides, even if they did, the people of the manor are strong. They can hold their own. Even if they can't, that person will get outcasted for hurting a survivor, regardless of if they’re a hunter. “No violence outside of matches,” that was the first rule both factions set.

So, it was safe to assume you had nothing to worry about. You have more important things to deal with, anyway, especially with a new survivor arriving. His name was Orpheus, a novelist. You were thrilled, especially since he was the author of some of your favorite series.

You were busy with preparations, practically skipping with joy. The other survivors poked fun at you, both for your enthusiasm and the lack of a certain painter at your side.

Edgar was concentrating on his art, as per usual, and you didn’t want to bother him. He seemed a little lonely, though, so you tried to convince a few people to talk to him. They all just looked at you as if you grew another head.

“Are we… looking at the same person?” Mike asks, smile strained. You frown, turning away from the banners you were fixing.

“Yes! Edgar Valden, our resident painter, our sassy rich boy, our lovely old friend. I say he is lonely, and I think you should talk to him. I mean, you’re easy-going, fun, and silly. Who wouldn’t like you?” Even if half of it was an act. Still, Mike was one of the people Edgar tolerated better than most. Perhaps it’s because he’s another form of an artist?

“Why can’t you just, I don’t know, talk to him yourself? You guys get along just fine.” Mike looks away, fiddling with his hands. You narrow your eyes at the sight.

Mike Morton, local funny man, someone with dedication and deceit running through his veins, nervous? It’s not faked, the sweat rolling down his neck and the faster breathing all indicating he was genuinely nervous. Maybe even scared.

“Edgar, I really do love him, but he needs more friends. I think the only people who talk to him on a regular basis are Luca and I. Adding a few more people to that list would be nice, so…” You bring your hands in front of you, clasped tight as if you’re about to pray. “Could you please talk to him?”

Mike deflates, sighing as he nods. You smile brightly in response, promising to make it up to him.

“Hey bestie! You excited for the new survivor?” Demi croons, grinning as she tosses an arm around your shoulder. You laugh in response, leaning into her.

“That’s about the dumbest thing you could ask me. Of course I am! He’s written so many good books. God, I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around him. He’s made some stories that have basically shaped who I am now!” You sigh, smiling so widely your face hurts.

“Well, don’t forget your boyfriend in all the excitement! I can see he’s basically seething with envy.”

You pause, turning to look at Demi.

“Who?”

Now, it’s Demi’s turn to look confused.

“Uh, you know, Edgar? Are– are you guys not together?” She asks, genuinely shocked. You feel your face heat up, your hands itching to cover your blush.

“Wh– no! We are not! Why would anyone ever think that?”

Demi gives you a deadpan expression in response.

“You two are basically glued to each other’s side, go into every match together, hang out almost every day– Hell, you’re the only one Edgar has allowed in his room without it being necessary!”

Well, that’s news to you.

You furrow your brows, blinking in shock. Sure, you two hung out a lot, but it wasn’t like you guys were friends exclusively with each other. You had Demi, Mike, Melly, and even Violetta while Edgar had Luca, Victor, Andrew, and Galatea. It wasn’t like you… hung out… every… day…

“Oh fuck, we really do look like a couple.” You mutter, having half a mind to smack Demi as she laughs. She’s completely unapologetic about it, struggling to breathe as slowly calms down and giggles.

“So, you two aren’t dating?” She asks, wiggling her eyebrows. You huff, fighting back a smile.

“Nope, not at all.”

“Then in that case, I’m allowed to flirt with you as much as I want!” Demi cheers. She spins you around, causing a laugh to bubble up from your throat. The two of your twirl around in a silly dance, the faint sound of Frederick playing the piano the only background music.

At the end, she dips you down, smile upon her lips. She leans close to your ear as your smile is wiped away.

“Be wary of him.”

With Edgar, it’s like you’re taking three steps forward, then five steps back. Just when you think you’ve got him all figured out, he throws a curveball at you.

That desperation he had in his eyes the day you became his friend, flickering like a brilliant flame, you understand it now. However much he claimed he didn’t need people to understand him, how he didn’t need to understand others, it didn’t mean much. He still craved it, to be understood. To not have to be questioned, to not be approached with dishonesty, with intentions that lied beyond just him being him.

You suppose that’s exactly why you got along. You wanted to understand him, and he wanted to be understood. A match made in Heaven, you suppose.

It’s why it miffed you a bit that you really can’t understand Edgar at the moment.

He hates drawing portraits, yet he draws a figure, the same exact one, in every one of his new pieces. They look familiar, a lot like you, but you’re pretty confident Edgar would rather die than paint you. You’d tease him to Hell and back, all while he complains and swears up and down he’s never being nice to you again.

The landscapes, adorned in reds of all shades, always have that figure in each one without fail. Is he in love with someone? That would explain why he’s so weird lately.

Edgar’s odd behavior was already messing with you, but on top of that, the letters were getting worse. Instead of being slid into your mailbox, they were flat out in your room now.

Normal people would think someone just slipped it under the door. Reasonable assumption. However, unless that person has not only a very thin arm, but a long one, you don’t know how they’d manage to get it all the way to your desk.

You stare at the white envelope, stamped shut with a red seal in the shape of a camellia. The outline of the flower is in gold, though the beauty of the letter and the seal means nothing. Not when it got into your room. Not when it clearly has a splotch of dark red glaring at you.

Your hands are shaky as you open the envelope, a familiar curl of thrill fighting with your new found protective instincts. The letter is white as a dove, the red tainting it made all the more stark.

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you read.

‘I didn’t imagine love would be like this. Wonderfully warm, like the rays of the sun in winter, and unbearably painful, like a knife in my heart. Do you just like hurting me? No, I know that isn’t true. After all, you always look at me with concern when I’m injured. Still, it’s hard to believe you’re this dense.

These past few weeks have been driving me mad. Your attention has been solely on the arrival of the new survivor. You’ve been ignoring me so much I can barely stand it. Can’t you spare even a moment for me? Is that novelist really that important? Seeing you look at him with stars in your eyes… it makes me want to rip his head off his shoulders. He doesn’t deserve your attention, nor your admiration, not like I do. I’ve known you longer, loved you for longer. He doesn’t deserve anything from you, yet he gets everything I could ever want and more.

Did you know? When you’re excited, your smile turns bigger, more genuine, till dimples show. Your eyes crinkle just a little, your hands moving to curl in front of your chest. You stand taller, you shine brighter.

It’s such a beautiful sight, I hate that I have to share it. Sometimes, I wish I could just put you in a cage and never let you go. Then, you wouldn’t look at anyone else but me. You wouldn’t think about anyone else but me. But, that’s not how you should live. You deserve to be free and happy. So, I’ve decided to get rid of anyone that doesn’t deserve to be around you.

I think I’ll start with that novelist.’

Your blood runs cold.

Fuck.

FUCK.

Just who is this? Who are they and just why are they so obsessed with you? Get rid of those who don’t deserve you? Who gave them the right to decide that!?

You take a deep breath, desperately trying to calm your nerves. Your heart is racing, and for the first time, the thrill in your heart turns into true fear.

You’ve never minded being the one hunted. In fact, you practically adore it, the addicting rush of adrenaline pumping through you. It’s why you came to the manor. But your friends? They’re not the same, and you wouldn’t want them to be. You want them safe and happy, not hunted down by some freak who thinks they “aren’t worthy of you” for whatever sick reason.

“Fuck, fuck… Orpheus, I need to find– no, it’s probably too late for him, there’s blood on the letter. Okay, okay, stay calm, stay fucking calm. Who would be the next victim? Mike? Melly? No, it’s probably Ed–” You pause.

Almost comically, everything clicks in place.

Camellias.

Red.

Ignoring them.

Edgar.

You bolt out of your room.

Normally, you’d knock. You know Edgar hates it when people barge into his room. However, considering the circumstances, you think that’s the least of your concerns.

You can’t help but pray in your mind. To whom? You don’t know. You don’t think anyone can truly help in this situation. It couldn’t be anyone else but Edgar, but still, you prayed. You hoped against all hope that your conclusion was wrong.

Edgar would scold you for barging in, sigh, before smiling and asking if you were really that desperate to see him. Everything would be fine. It would all be just a cruel joke.

But just as life is more mundane than fantasy, reality is far cruller than fiction.

The large windows to Edgar’s room let in the light of the falling sun, casting the room in many shades of gold and orange. In the middle of the room, in all his glory, is Edgar. His back is to you, paint brush in hand. You’re hit first by relief, then with the heavy scent of iron.

You shake, hands covering your mouth as you finally process what's around Edgar. Orpheus, drained of blood, head sat on a chair, body left haphazardly on the ground. Jack, ghastly white and face twisted, his horror eternally memorialized in death. Demi, eyes closed and serene, seemingly asleep if not for the purple veins that roam along her arms.

You fall to your knees, the shock hitting you so strong you can’t stand up any longer. He was your secret admirer. The one who kept sending letters. The one who went into your room just to place them on your desk. The one who threatened to kill your friends. The one who did kill your friends.

Edgar, finally, turns around. His cheek has splotches of blood on it, his hands no better. It’s startling just how much of it is on him, but worse yet, you know not all of it is on him. There’s a lot of blood in a human body, much more in two, so where was it?

When he smiles, it’s just as sweet as it was yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that. Was this really your friend, or a demon in disguise?

His smile, ever so sweet, only serves to unsettles you, looking more like a nightmare.

“Ah, you’re here! Come, I need to show you my newest masterpiece.” Edgar steps closer to you, dragging you by the hand to a canvas you hadn’t noticed before. He was standing in front of it, so it was only natural.

You numbly follow, heart in your throat. You’re grateful, distantly, that the “masterpiece” is not the corpses of your friends. You think you’re going to throw up, eyes trying to look at anything but them.

So, you gladly look at his so-called masterpiece.

You really wish you didn’t.

There, on the canvas, is a portrait. This time, it’s so painfully obvious it’s you that you can’t even deny it. Surrounded by red camellias, hands curled in front of their chest, with a smile so genuine, dimples showed. Eyes crinkled, back straight, and God, did it have to be so accurate?

The red of the camellias are familiar, as is the red of your blush, the colors of your clothes, your hair.

It’s all been painted using your friend’s blood.

Edgar comes behind you, his arms circling your waist. A content sigh leaves him, his chin resting on your shoulder. His hold is gentle, but firm, possessive in a way you never thought him capable of. His lips brush against your neck, a kiss much like a collar pressed into your skin. You can feel them curl into a smile.

“What do you think, my muse? The red means I love you.”

#idv #identity v #identity 5 #idv edgar #idv painter #edgar valden x reader #idv fanfic #identity v fanfic

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anonypussi · 25 days

Text

Inquisitor Cal shows a good time to Jedi Cal

for @hereforthefanficsandromance ily 😘

I wrote this for miss V's fan fiction (cause im cray-cray)

MDI | Cal x Cal (yes you read that right) | Inquisitor!Cal x Jedi!Cal

Warnings: choking, light degradation, themes of BDSM, face humping, unprotected sex, proceed with caution (or with excitement idk you do you)

Cal was four holographic films into the night and about ten strokes away from finishing himself off when he sensed it.

Immediately, his erection flagged out of sheer shock like a sail that lost its wind because no way— no way was he mistaking the face staring back at him through the doorway of his cabin.

He scrambled, because how the fuck did he miss this person stumbling into his ship while he was preoccupied? The molten embarrassment makes itself known on his face as shoves his dick back into his underwear. There was no way to play this off, it was so obvious what he was doing alone in his room— and he was not going to take the entire blame for this awkward situation.

“Oh shit-“ he began, getting up quickly to get this person off the ship so he can just fly away and pretend it has never happened. He definitely did not get walked on jacking off alone by a stranger (he will never sleep right after this). He couldn’t even look at this person in their eyes without feeling the crushing shame through his veins. “Hey, what are you doing-”.

He stops abruptly, his thoughts fleeting out the window. His eyes were solely trained on the infamous white insignia on the stranger’s chest, which he bleakly realizes is a breastplate being worn by no one else other than an Imperial Inquisitor.

Great. Not only did he get walked on jacking off. He got busted jacking off by a fucking Imperial Inquisitor. If Cal wasn’t already shifting into defensive, the Force reinforcing the wall around his consciousness and flinging his lightsaber into his hand, he would have gone hysterical with how absurd this situation was.

Yep. He has to kill this motherfucker. Screw the Jedi principles. He refuses to let this Inquisitor he just met yet go back to their lair and make jokes about his dick. They would never let him live it down- oh gods now all of his future interactions with the Galactic Empire’s Inquisitors would involve innuendos.

How the fuck is he going to explain this to-

“I’m not here to fight you,” the Inquisitor said. Cal’s eyes flicked to its face after trying to stare a hole into its breastplate. His mind went blank and he froze.

Because that’s his face. The Inquisitor is wearing his own face.

Did they clone him?

The Inquisitor sighs in irritation. “Will you listen to me?” He growls, Cal becomes fascinated with how his eyebrows scrunch in anger and how his jaw clenches while swallowing. He continues, “Or do I have to force you to listen to me?”

Cal almost laughs. Force to? Typical.

He takes a breath instead. He doesn’t really want to have a fight in his own ship, wearing only his underwear while his opponent is fully decked out in full gear. He doesn’t raise his lightsaber, noting that his opponent- his twin hasn’t pulled out his own weapon, yet. Cal eyes at the dark uniform, taking in the sleek black clothes and protective plates. He sees the red glow right next to the unmistakable small signature imperial logo printed on his left breast.

This was it. He was looking at his worst fear, of submitting to the delicious veil of the dark side of the Force. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the golden orbs on his face, the same orbs he sees on his enemies.

Anger. Hate. Fear. Power.

He doesn’t even recognize himself. He is not Cal. He has his face, his body, eyes, nose, everything. However, the way how this person- this monster carries himself at first impression, was unmistakably not Cal. He forced himself to not flinch as the monster sighed and stepped back, away from him.

His heart seized, and his breath cut off at the horrifying realization that his only family left wouldn’t distinguish them physically. What if this clone hurts his f-

“CAL.”

His eyes focus directly on this Inquisitor, who snapped him out of his own turmoil. The monster stares at him back, his face completely devoid of emotions as his eyes analyze his copy (the better copy of himself).

Cal knew what he needed to do.

“How did you get on my ship?” He asked, willing his voice to not crack as he stoically stared at the man. The inquisitor purses his lips and Cal does not miss how his eyes looked at his saber.

“You were at the bar downtown.”

Cal blinked at him. “What?”

“By coincidence,” he continued, clearly not impressed with Cal, his eyes boring into the Jedi as if saying keep up with me, will you? “We used the same cup, I saw you. And knowing you, I figured you’d hide your ship here.”

Yeah, that explains why there are two Cal Kestis in this universe.

Cal didn’t let up his lightsaber. “And you’re me. But you’re-”

“An Inquisitor?” The man interrupted, his expression finally deviating from blank to a mocking curiosity. “Clearly,” he says, setting his hands on his hips and Cal could already do that by habit, the way his gloved fingers rest easily on the belt. “I was on a task to retrieve this artifact, we thought it was a form of Holocron, however when I activated it, it brought me here, and I knew this place was not my home.”

“Right. And you expect me to help you?”

“Is it your job to hunt down Inquisitors?” He snarled, irritation finally coming through his stoic facade. “Helping me would keep the number of those fucks the same, not helping me would just add more problems for you.”

Cal bristled, clearly not wanting to deal with this and do something else entirely different. “Why not go to your brothers and sisters?”

Thirteenth scoffed. “Would you rather me go to them over you? Kriff, you know how to hurt my feelings.”

“How did you get in here?”

“I’m literally you,” He exasperated as if that was the clear answer to his questions. “I flew this piece of junk before,” Cal grimaced at the Inquisitor’s insult. “Can you at least put that damn thing down?”

Cal didn’t need a moment to decide on that. “No.”

The Inquisitor pursed his lips and kept his eyes on his opponent. Cal holds onto his gaze as he tries to forget what he was doing earlier before this confrontation. The messy sheets behind him and the damning bottle of lube really didn’t help him do that. The silence was just awkward. Cal couldn’t tell if the Inquisitor even wanted to fight him after walking in on him. This is what is happening, right?

The Inquisitor backed off, now slouching his shoulders as if he wanted to make himself look smaller, more harmless. “Fine,” he exhaled and moved his hand to reach for the weapon strapped to his back. Cal adjusts his position, mentally preparing himself for a nasty fight in such a tight space.

He sees the signature weapon, expecting it to ignite bold red.

Except that didn’t happen. The Inquisitor chucked it at him unkindly, clearly annoyed with him. Cal disengages his weapon and catches the chucked lightsaber after it bounces off his chest, glancing at it with disgust and judgment with its design.

“Now I’m defenseless,” the evil clone stated. Cal blinked at the hidden memories the Inquisitor held with his weapon. He felt the disgust at how many people were slain, the disgust of how his clone was able to carry out such atrocities with no hint of remorse on his face. “Do you trust me?”

Cal would have said no if he didn’t see the other memories. Memories of the Inquisitor, being more Cal than a bloodthirsty soldier of the Galactic Empire. He sees him volunteering at a very cozy library that is hidden away from the peering eyes of the Empire, talking to passerby and their children as they venture through the walls of books. He sees him purposely thwarting imperial soldiers from finding force-sensitive children more than a dozen times over the years. He sees him kill Fifth Brother for threatening to kill someone Thirteenth Brother clearly cared about.

He sees him fighting against a fallen Jedi, a newly formed Inquisitor, Fourteenth, pleading with him to not fully succumb to the dark side of the Force, to endure the long road of redemption, with him.

So his clone’s name is Thirteenth Brother. But he goes by Cal when he doesn’t want to be a monster an Inquisitor.

But once an Inquisitor is always an Inquisitor.

“You know I won’t trust you,” Cal started saying before realizing what he was even saying to Thirteenth. “But I will help you return home. Do you have the artifact with you?”

Thirteenth visibly relaxed, his features almost softened “Glad you asked,” he said and he reached behind once more to grab something from his satchel. “Right here,” he pulls out the cube that resembles a Holocron, glowing eerie green as it dimmed and lightened periodically. Cal almost wanted to step closer to the Inquisitor to inspect it himself, fingers itching towards the object.

Thirteenth smirked with a glint of unkindness in his eyes. “However,” he began, Cal braced himself, already knowing whatever he was going to say would sting. “Before we get into that, I’m giving you a chance to get your dick wet before we proceed. Straight back to your cabin alone after drinks is just sad.”

Cal blinked. His mind went blank for a second as Cal.exe rebooted. Then the feeling of embarrassment comes back in full force and Cal seethes at his clone for making fun of him for jerking off alone. They are literally the same person. “Don’t even bring that up!” He exclaimed defeatedly and Thirteenth chuckled at him.

He hoped this would be a swift mission for both of them.

______________________________________

The atmosphere is thick with tension.

Almost suffocating.

Every movement is deliberate, every breath heavy with suppressed emotion. The air crackles with the electricity of their simmering anger, each moment stretching out as they refuse to be the first to break the silence. Cal found himself inhaling sharply over every small little thing he immediately found irritating, knowing that his emotions were being influenced by Thirteenth’s simmering rage through the Force. Kriff sake, he couldn't even wash the dishes without feeling the urge to grab a plate and throw it at Thirteenth.

Thirteenth is currently fixing up the wiring behind the subspace transceiver underneath the holographic pod. Cal would have felt appreciative for his double to help him out with that, but all he felt was annoyance because he knew Thirteenth wasn’t fixing that out of the goodness of his heart.

What heart, Cal thought spitefully.

Thirteenth's fingers tighten around the tool in his hand, knuckles turning white with the effort to contain his frustration. He shoots a glance in Cal's direction, eyes narrowed with resentment but quickly averts his gaze, not wanting to give Cal the satisfaction of seeing his agitation.

Cal's jaw works in tight, controlled movements, muscles twitching with the effort to keep his anger in check. His grip on the last dirty mug tightens as he struggles to contain the torrent of words threatening to spill from his lips.

Instead, Cal calmly shuts off the water facet and makes his way to his cabin. He needs to get his clothes off of him, put on some comfort clothes and forget the entire fucking thing.

The ‘entire fucking thing’ involves no one other than Boba Fett. Not only Cal’s man-crush has caused this tension, fucking Thirteenth made the entire situation almost damn unliveable. Cal did not want to walk in on Thirteenth screwing Boba Fucking Fett in a dirty alleyway, hear their moans and grunts of pleasure, and Cal sure has hell did not need Thirteenth to catch him looking and give him a show.

Thirteenth knew Cal liked him, and he went ahead to fuck him and brag it in his face. Now, Cal can't even take up bounty contracts with Fett in the future without the blinding embarrassment that threatens to crush him.

All he needed to do was walk to his cabin, change his clothes, and call it a night. Yes, he has to walk past Thirteenth to get to the cabin, but he's a grown-up. He can handle the tension.

But, also, fuck Thirteenth.

Thirteenth is now looking at him with an expectant expression on his face. He finishes up the repairs as he drills the metal sheet back up, his eyes not leaving Cal as he tries to walk past Thirteenth and ignore him.

With a sharp inhale, Cal’s plans were thrown to the gutter as Thirteenth’s voice cut through the silence like a lightsaber.

“You are being pathetic.”

Oh, fuck you, you son of a Bantha.

Cal turns, all common sense thrown out of the ship as he steps closer to Thirteenth menacingly. Thirteenth obviously doesn't flinch at his antics. Cal had enough of this man. He was rightfully pissed and Thirteenth is the asshole if he refuses to see his perspective. “I’m not the one who got some dick instead of doing our job,” Cal hissed.

Thirteenth’s amusement was blatantly clear on his face, and Cal had to resist the urge to deck him.

“At least I’m not so pathetic that I have to jerk off alone every time. I man up and fuck around.”

“You always had to bring that up?” Cal exclaims with annoyance.

Thirteenth is acting like a child. A fucking child. And he's an Inquisitor.

Yep, this is when he walks away.

Cal sighs and turns around to proceed to his cabin, praying to the Force that Thirteenth is not sadistic enough to follow him and continue bickering. His patience was falling apart at its seams and Thirteenth followed him, not letting up the argument for a moment.

“Are you angry at me because you don’t trust me enough to let me run off for a few hours? Or is it the fact I fucked your stupid crush and you didn’t?”

“Shut up,’ Cal groaned exasperated, rolling his eyes hard at Thirteenth as he threw his coat on the dresser.

“You stayed around a lot longer than you should have,” Thirteenth pointed out and Cal froze for a sliver of a second and continued to pull out his bedclothes to play it off. “Did you like watching me get fucked by big, strong men?” Thirteenth asked, his voice low and dark, like telling a dirty secret. It was gravelly, even more than it usually was, scratching away Cal’s self-control like sandpaper on wood. “Did you enjoy watching me beg and cry for it?”

Cal had to swallow hard.

Thirteenth’s eyelids slid low over his eyes, practically fluttering his eyelashes at Cal, the memory of Thirteenth’s lustful gaze on him while Fett thrust into him came back to mind.

Kriff.

“Did you want to do that to me?” Thirteenth purred with a mean sneer. His eyes darted to Cal’s wet lips then back to his eyes. “Hold me down and make me cry? Call you ‘sir’?”

Cal let out a gasp, breath stuck in his throat and he looked at the door behind Thirteenth, trying to judge if he could get away from just sprinting out and never coming back. Cal looks back to Thirteenth before he can let the man extract his thoughts from his mind and figure out his plan.

Only when he looked at Thirteenth, he could see the realization dawning in his expression and absolute glee dancing in his eyes, like all of his wishes came true all at once.

“Or maybe,” Thirteenth said slowly. His other hand came up to unclasp the belt around his (borrowed) coat, letting the bag fall to the ground. Cal felt like he was suffocating on Thirteenth’s stare. He swallowed a lump down his throat.

“Or maybe you want all that to be done to you,” Thirteenth hissed.

Cal was fucked.

Triumph broke out on his face— bright and glorious. His eyes glowed a dark hue of red as the Force entwined the two souls through mutual lust as if this was what they were meant to do.

“You do want me to do that to you.”

Cal wanted to say no. He wanted to deny it. He wanted to shove Thirteenth away and take a lightsaber and cut him down on this spot, maybe even punch him if he needed to— anything except look at him like a Jawas caught stealing a droid red-handed.

Thirteenth stepped closer, right into Cal’s personal space, his hand raised to cup his jaw, his thumb stroking Cal’s lower lip.

“I can do it,” he murmured. His voice was laced with promise and lust. “I had my fair share of brats, and I know how to satisfy their needs.” His hand lowered to firmly grasp Cal’s throat, tilting his face up, and Thirteenth asked, “Do you want me to, Jedi?”

No no no no no no n-

“Put you on your knees,” Thirteenth continued, “smack your ass until it’s cherry red and fuck your mouth afterwards? With no regard if you can breathe?”

Cal wanted to die, wanted to disintegrate and his ashes to fly away in the wind.

Thirteenth’s eyes gentled, the red glow fading away, and he leaned in closer. Too close. Close enough that Cal can breathe his breath.

“Let me have you,” Thirteenth whispered. His tone was no longer teasing, he no longer sounded like he was taunting him, playing with his desires and prancing about fucking other people while Cal desperately hold true to his Jedi values.

Now, he sounded pleading. Pleading. Begging.

Cal’s eyes shut, and his head fell back against the wall. He made a soft noise as lust nearly overtook his self-control. Maybe it was noise to remind himself that this was not a wet dream.

Thirteenth took that as a sign to make a move. He leaned in even further into Cal’s throat, to dip his nose at the length of his column, breathing him in, barely touching his skin other than his hand holding him still.

The hand on his throat should have scared Cal, but it didn’t. It was reassuring, his neck on fire where skin met skin, touch light enough to gently pet a cat.

Cal broke, the Force dropping his walls as Thirteenth’s overpowering presence seeped into his consciousness like tea in hot water. The lust he could feel from him snapped all of Cal’s thoughts as his neurons overloaded.

“Okay,” Cal whispered in response with the quietest voice he could muster like he was hoping this was not real.

Thirteenth responded to that by pressing a kiss to his neck just beneath the corner of his jaw, under his ear, a firm kiss, but nothing more. Then he nosed his way up to Cal’s ear to whisper into it, “Undress for me. I want everything off.”

Cal stepped back almost abruptly, letting Thirteenth’s hand fall from his throat, but he didn’t make a move, like a predator waiting for their dying prey to succumb so they could feast on them lazily.

Cal felt a burning blush creep up his neck and into his face, heating up the rest of his body. There were tremors underneath his skin that he knew had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with desperation and sheer arousal in his blood. His cock was hard beneath his pants, which did not hide it, but Thirteenth didn’t have to see it to know how it looked.

With the greatest effort, Cal pulled his shirt off, his eyes never leaving Thirteenth’s gaze as he was being watched. He saw how Thirteenth’s eyes dropped down to his chest, slurping up all the detail in the dimmed lighting. This gave Cal the courage to shuck his pants down and prays that Thirteenth would not take this opportunity to make fun of him going commando underneath his clothes.

Cal stood naked, and the Inquisitor stayed clothed. Cal wanted to reach forward, say fuck this, and just rip every article of clothing off of him. However, he stayed put, and there was a small fear in the back of Cal’s mind that this was some elaborate joke and that Thirteenth was cruel enough to pull this prank on him.

Turns out that being Force-sensitive does not grant full transparency between two men who sought a deeper connection. Thirteenth takes this hesitation from Cal as second-guessing and doubts, he looks back up into Cal’s eyes, searching for something, Cal didn’t know. His eyes flickered over every inch of it as if committing every feature and comparing it to himself.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured quietly, and the silence in the room was loud enough to hear a pin drop. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

Cal remained silent, but he reached up to put a hand delicately on the back of Thirteenth’s neck and pulled him down for a proper kiss.

Thirteenth seemed to melt against him, just falling into him and using his entire weight to push Cal back and up against the wall. The kiss that Cal had initiated had been taken over completely by Thirteenth.

He pressed his mouth harder and harder against Cal’s own, using the wall as leverage to do so. Their teeth clicked together with the pressure, and almost unconsciously, Cal parted his lips.

Thirteenth made a soft groan at that, a desperate noise that sent a shudder through Cal’s body.

How long, he wondered, how long had Thirteenth wanted this too?

The thought floated away as Thirteenth’s tongue was licking its way into Cal’s mouth. All that remained was the hard line of Thirteenth’s body against his front, pinning him to the wall against his back, and the wet heat of his mouth, devouring him. Cal let out a breathy sound as the Inquisitor rutted his thigh against his groin.

“I want to suck you,” Cal breathed out, taking the opportunity to rut against Thirteenth’s still-fully-clothed thigh. “Please,” he added for good measure, knowing every Inquisitor is the same.

They all lust for begging of any sort.

And to Cal’s delight, Thirteenth fell for that trap.

Thirteenth stepped back to give Cal just enough room for his commands. Cal almost whined at the loss of bodily contact and the delicious friction. He was almost lightheaded from the amount of lust he was drowning in, trying to stay afloat while the tendrils under the water pulled him under by his foot.

“Kneel.”

That simple command meant everything to the both of them for the night. Thirteenth is not simply asking him to stick his dick in his mouth. He was asking for submission, and Cal was not known for submission. Especially to the Empire. However, this was Thirteenth, himself, and Cal would submit to himself.

Cal kneeled, eyes never leaving Thirteenth’s face as he relished in the look of satisfaction on his own face. The hunger grew in his eyes as he looked predatory. Cal’s dick jumped pathetically at the sight as it hung between his thighs, exposed to Thirteenth’s judgment entirely.

“Convince me to fuck you,” he commanded, and if it wasn’t for the lust restraining Cal’s ego, he would have got annoyed at him and snarked back.

Instead, he reached up to the hem of Thirteenth’s trousers and gingerly pulled out his cock from its confines. Cal closed his eyes from the smell of his own sex filling the room and he had to hold back a sound after the fire went through his veins and through his groin.

Cal opened his eyes and looked up to Thirteenth, trying to copy the expression he saw on Thirteenth when he found him with Fett and gave him a firm lick up the shaft. Cal didn’t give him a moment to react when he wrapped his mouth around his cock and sucked.

“Damn,” Thirteenth hissed, tossing his head back in response to the assault.

It was an assault, a reckless takedown of Thirteenth’s walls. With every vicious suck of Cal’s lips, every stroke of Cal’s fist, every lick of Cal’s tongue, Thirteenth felt himself crumbling down to bare himself completely to Cal.

He could not let that happen.

Thirteenth’s foot kicked open Cal’s thighs and a shin pressed against his groin, Cal choked a moan and barely stopped himself from gagging on the dick deep in his throat, he grabbed onto Thirteenth’s thighs tightly.

Thirteenth tipped his foot on its toes and down, grinding his shin against Cal’s groin and he grabbed Cal by the back of his head to thrust into him deeper. Thirteenth’s instructions were clear, and Cal let out a choked breath as he compiled.

Not that he didn’t want to grind against Thirteenth’s shin (more like ankle with how low his hips are now) for his pleasure, but the thought of it, rutting against an inquisitor’s leg like a dog, was humiliating and satisfying in equal measure.

Thirteenth groaned deeply at the sight, his voice sending vibrations through his chest cavity and his body, Cal redoubled his efforts to not abandon the cock in his mouth to focus solely on humping his leg.

He could feel his legs aching from the floors, his thighs burning for the small circular motions for his groin and his jaw sore from holding it open for a prolonged period. The intense eye contact with Thirteenth has stopped Cal from noting his discomfort as he stares at the golden orbs, desperate to prove his worth by repaying him with pleasure.

Thirteenth’s pace has increased to the point where he was painfully grabbing Cal’s hair to move his mouth faster, his thrusts hard enough to press into his face as he desperately tries not to gag on his dick, and fails to do that. As Thirteenth abuses his mouth, Cal in return grabs onto the leg he was using with both hands and grinds hard against it, taking it as he pleases.

Even though Thirteenth has completely put him into submission, Cal still wants to compete with him. He would not fall apart yet, not before the inquisitor. He can feel the Force surrounding Thirteenth rapidly crumble with each thrust, exposing the man’s feelings to Cal as his protective wall evaporates with each pant he releases.

Cal’s entire body is burning, but he doesn’t stop. He won’t stop until he proves himself to him.

For what though?

Thirteenth curses, eyes opening wide as they had slid shut after Cal let him fuck his mouth, the inquisitor curses more and abruptly pulls Cal off of him, one hand tangled in his hair with a grip, holding the Jedi in place to look at him.

Cal coughed and took his opportunity to catch his breath as he held eye contact with Thirteenth, not ignoring how he could see the trembling underneath clothes and the flush on his copy’s face, he noted at the red lips glistening wet as Thirteenth had been biting it to muffle his noises.

Before Cal could start teasing him for not being able to hold onto it for much longer, Thirteenth beat him to it, his hand gripped his hair again and this time, he gripped it tight, painful so that Cal cried out a little. He used that hand to push Cal's face harder against his cock and thrust up against his cheek, rubbing himself off on him.

It felt hot and filthy and a little embarrassing, all the requirements needed to drive Cal out of his fucking mind.

“You are such a whore for my cock,” Thirteenth groaned. The words sound like they were supposed to be cruel, but the tone he said was delighted. “This is what you wanted. Me rutting against you?”

Cal moaned in agreement. His cock was dripping, but he kept his hands on Thirteenth’s shaking thighs while Thirteenth rubbed off on his face.

“Fucking look at you,” he hissed, fingers tightening even more and shaking him a little, making Cal cry out more. “You’re getting off on this, being used like this.”

Oh Fuck, Cal realized, I can come just from this.

Thirteenth seemed to realize the same thing. To Cal’s relief (or disappointment), Thirteenth pulled back from him, grunting when the Jedi got in one last lick on his cock while pulling away. His hand is still tangled in Cal’s hair and he pulls him up, forcing Cal to get up.

“Get on the bed,” he orders, and Cal internally pumps his fist in the air for what is about to happen. As the grip left his hair, Cal plopped himself on the comfy mattress, realizing the duvet was off and folded neatly into the corner. Cal wondered if Thirteenth planned this all out.

The thought was interrupted when Thirteenth suddenly grabbed one of his ankles and pulled him closer to the edge of the mattress. He felt the tendrils of Thirteenth’s force assisting the pull as Cal was brought closer to the Inquisitor with little effort. Before Cal could make a move, Thirteenth gripped his throat, and pushed him back down to the mattress, gently to Cal’s surprise.

The Thirteenth looked good from above. He looked divine, with the look of hunger in his eyes and lips wet with wanton. And he was finally naked to Cal’s delight.

Cal couldn’t stop staring at the lips.

Thirteenth slowly inches closer, close enough that Cal could taste his breath. Thirteenth licked his bottom lip, and Cal could only whimper and try to kiss back in return.

Thirteenth’s worship was efficiently quick as he went from kissing and licking into Cal’s mouth, tasting their precome together, he moved to under Cal’s jaw, bit his ear before kissing down the column of his throat, biting into his skin, and all Cal could do was lay there helplessly and bite his tongue.

Thirteenth’s spare hand strummed Cal’s ribs gently before it circled around his nipple, making Cal squirm. A strangled yelp escaped Cal as Thirteenth pinched it, but Cal held perfectly still as he moaned.

“Oh good boy,” Thirteenth murmured, full of delight. He moved down to suck in Cal’s other nipple as he kept pinching the same nipple.

“Thirt- Cal-“

“Try again.”

Cal’s mind went blank while Thirteenth continues to play with his fucking chest. He couldn’t think straight and could only grunt as Thirteenth pulled painfully at his nipple, before resting it and soothing it with his tongue or fingertips. Cal had to think what he said wrong, and then it dawned on him.

“Sir,” Cal whispered, “please.”

Thirteenth prompted forward, like a rope snapping, and bit Cal’s ear and licked it and Cal could only moan.

Fucking hell.

“I don’t care if you come,” Thirteenth growled right into his ear, “I prefer you like this, desperate and needy. If you want to come, you better convince me” Then he flipped Cal onto his front against the mattress and manhandled his legs to expose himself to the Inquisitor.

Before Cal could feel any sense of shame (there was none), a hard smack landed on his ass, making him shout. It was hard enough to leave a handprint, he imagined, and it only made him tilt his hips more to expose more of his ass.

“Liked that?” Thirteenth asked mockingly as if he couldn’t read all of Cal’s soul through the Force, just like Cal could sense deep desire and lust through Thirteenth.

Cal did not answer as he decided he was not going to further validate that asshole.

Another hard smack landed in the same place, and Cal grunted loudly once more, his cock pulsing and a bead of pre-come slowly dripping from his shaft and onto the sheets.

Cal could feel the smugness from Thirteenth, motherfucker didn’t even bother to try to hide it. Another smack on the other cheek drove Cal forward and flattened himself on the mattress, a broken sound out of him and another smack had him whimpering.

He could feel both of Thirteenth’s hands grip his hips to force him to get his ass back up. Thirteenth smacked him again, and again, and again until Cal couldn’t bother muffling his cries. His ass was hot, throbbing in pain. Hiding his noises was the least of his worries.

And Thirteenth slid his fingers up the crease of his ass, caressing his hole lightly, Cal gave in and begged, “Please.”

“Finally you submit to me,” he hears him murmur in approval. Thirteenth pressed his fingers to Cal’s rim and rubbed the outside of it lightly. Cal pants as he holds back his moans and lets the inquisitor fondle him.

The fingers withdrew, and before Cal could decide to start mouthing at Thirteenth to do something to him, he heard the man move towards his bedside table to find the lube and condoms.

Cal looked over to the condoms in Thirteenth’s hand and a thought came just as quickly Cal tried to squash it before Thirteenth could hear it through the Force, however, it was pointless as Thirteenth looked back to Cal with a sharp inhale, dropping the condoms back into the nightstand.

“You are a slut,” Thirteenth murmured and gods, that should not have sent a violent wave of lust through Cal’s body.

Cal shut his eyes and rested his head against his arms as he held his ass up, he could feel his legs trembling from overstimulation and exertion. He fights down the humiliation of succumbing to Thirteenth’s dominance.

He finches and wills himself to not pull away as he poured lube on his ass and in between his cheeks, with full disregard for how cold the lube felt on Cal’s skin. He felt Thirteenth return to fondling his ass, and when he pushed two into him at once, they went with little friction. Still some resistance though as Cal’s ass burned from the intrusion. He cried out a broken pathetic sound and arched his back like a cat getting that good scratch on its back.

“Good,” Thirteenth hissed, both mocking and sincere. “Fuck yourself on my hand, show me how much you want my dick. Beg for it and then maybe I’ll let you come.”

Cal hates this man.

But he wanted this. Thir- Cal was doing everything he wanted. They were fully transparent with each other and the Force-

The Force unexplainably acted as a catalyst, a bond between them.

Cal let out a moan before he started to roll his hips, and another when he felt the delicious pressure of Thirteenth’s fingers on his prostate.

“More,” Cal whimpered.

“Try again,” Thirteenth cajoled. His fingers split apart, stretching Cal open with little kindness, and Cal couldn’t help but rise up on his toes and cry out, “Please!”

“Please what?” Thirteenth demanded.

“Please fuck me with your cock. Please fuck me, Sir,” Cal sobbed, shutting his eyes and pressing his face into the mattress to smother out his embarrassment as humiliation slithered through his spine. But he has already crossed the point of no return. There was no coming back from this, so he could only proceed forward. “I want you inside me, you to split me open and fuck me up. Please I’ll do anything,” he whimpered.

Thirteenth hummed in approval and kissed the back of his tailbone. “Dangerous promise,” he praised, and Cal tried not to lose his mind on him because otherwise, Thirteenth would have that power over him. “Good boy.”

And he felt a wet dick nudging against his hole. Cal scrambled to move his hands to spread his cheeks for Thirteenth. When he pushed himself in, it slid with ease of extra lubrication that Thirteenth put on himself without Cal’s attention.

Cal moaned and moved his hands back to the mattress for leverage to look back at the Inquisitor, curiosity burning in his gut to see what he looked like from above.

And Gods. Gods. Is this what he looks like when he fuck?

The heavy gaze Thirteenth had on him held Cal into place, like a siren soothing the sailor to look at them. His eyes held promise as he slurped up all of Cal’s features, committing it to memory.

Then, Thirteenth darted a hand to the back of Cal’s neck, gripping it painfully and forcing him back onto the mattress roughly. Cal yelped before he was smothered into the mattress, he barely could turn his head to breathe as Thirteenth held him down like he was a wild animal. Cal groaned as he stayed put, and screamed when Thirteenth violently thrust into Cal’s ass with little regard for comfort or pleasure. He grunted with each thrust that drove Cal further up on the mattress. Cal had enough consciousness to throw his hands up the best he could while being pinned to avoid bringing himself into the wall.

“Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleas-” Cal was chanting through his sobs, doing his best to stay in position for Thirteenth as his legs shook with fervour.

“You have until I finish to come, or you won’t come at all,” Thirteenth growled through harsh breaths of effort. “You are mine now, Jedi. You don’t get to come without my permission.” Cal sobbed out something akin to an agreement. Kriff- yes. Yes, he wanted this. He craved this and he finally got it. He wanted to come for Thirteenth. “You won’t be able to come with anyone else. I am ruining you for everyone. You won’t be able to come without me.”

Cal just yelled in response, tears ready to leave his eyes as he breathed harshly against the now-wet mattress under his face. He was so close. So so close-

Thirteenth stopped and Cal could have started a whole new war over that.

Before Cal could let his rage consume his horniness and get angry at Thirteenth for fucking stopping when he was just right there. Thirteenth pulled out and grabbed him again, manhandling him onto his back.

Thirteenth then grabbed his legs to wrap around his waist and used the same hand that held him down previously to choke him into the mattress. Cal inhales pitifully as he struggled and his dick jumped, he stares at Thirteenth, eyes fluttering as he struggles to keep them open on his face and moaned loudly as he was fucked brutally again.

Cal was getting off on the feral look on Thirteenth’s face as he increased his pace. The grip on his neck tightened again and the grip on his hip left bruises, and his thrusts grew harder and erratic, slamming into Cal harshly with every single one.

Cal whimpered as he took every thrust without complaint, Thirteenth was saying something but went unheard as Cal could only hear the roaring white noise in his ears. Thirteenth moved his grip on his neck to the back and he moved himself lower to breathe into Cal’s sweaty neck. Before Cal could consider moving his hands to Thirteenth’s back and feel the muscles working, Thirteenth bent over to bite the skin around Cal’s nipple and suck it into his mouth.

When Cal cried out, Thirteenth started fucking him in earnest.

Cal knew he was moaning and crying and whimpering, but he couldn’t gather enough focus to worry about it. He could only feel, not think— feel Thirteenth sucking on his tit, feel Thirteenth fucking him like a beast.

Thirteenth grunted with the force of every thrust, the headboard banging against the wall, and Cal could only grab his back and hold on as the pleasure overwhelmed him. Thirteenth used the hand not holding his neck to reach his neglected cock.

And he was seizing up into Thirteenth pitifully as every wave of crashing orgasm wrecked through his entire being. Cal yelled out as his vision whitened out, and was able to breathe after Thirteenth sat up to watch him crumble apart.

Cal comes back to see Thirteenth’s subtle yet triumphant look on his face, his hips still gyrating to give himself pleasure.

“That was good.” He panted to Cal with a smirk.

Vaguely, Cal could feel the Inquisitor still rock solid inside him, so he grabbed Thirteenth’s shoulders for one last time to gain leverage to flip positions. Cal was delighted that his stunt succeeded as he heard Thirteenth yelp in surprise, clearly having his guard down long enough for Cal to roll him onto his back, looking up at him with awe and his dick still snug inside Cal.

Cal wasn’t done, so he took Thirteenth’s hand, the one that had finished him off and was still covered in his semen, and licked his come off it.

“Fuck,” Thirteenth swore, his mouth hanging open. That was when Cal started to ride him at his earnest, hard and fast, half abandoning cleaning up the hand with his tongue. Thirteenth swore loudly, yelling out his orgasm into the darkness of the room, his fingers digging painfully into Cal’s waist, holding him in place as he violently rutted into the Jedi.

His head collapsed on the pillow afterwards, spent and sated, Cal followed him as he slumped his body on top of him, ignoring the wet spot and sweat between them. Thirteenth made a small pleased noise and they fell into silence, basking in the glow of post-orgasm haze, letting their body cool down and their heart slow to normal.

“That was fucking hot,” he told Cal as he wiggled the body off of his and onto Cal’s side, letting his softened cock slip out as he did.

The trickle of come that followed made Cal grimace, to which Thirteenth smirked a little, letting his fingers wander to Cal’s hole and insert a finger in.

Cal drew in a sharp breath but made no motion to stop him.

“So this is how I shut you up,” Thirteen snarked and Cal groaned in annoyance, plopping himself back onto the mattress and Thirteenth laughed.

“How long did you want to fuck me?” Cal asked, jumping straight into it.

Thirteen didn’t mind.

“Since I saw you jerking off. Wondered what it was like to fuck yourself, literally.”

“Is that why you kept making jokes?”

“It got you into bed with me.”

“... fair.”

[This is the most vanilla smut i have ever written]

#cal kestis #inquisitor cal kestis #sw jedi survivor #hereforthefanficsandromance #those in discord pls don't guess who it is im scared of yall #im sorry im gonna repent #I shall now practice celibacy #smut #Cal Kestis smut #gay???? idk they're doing themselves #my work

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adarkrainbow · 9 months

Text

It is quite fascinating how the United-States formed their own little corpus of “classic” fairytales that is basically a mixed salad, or - just like their country - a melting pot.

Basically, Americans selected a few of each fairy tales from the “great groups” and knows these fairytales by heart, while completely ignoring the other fairy tales that came with them.

Americans know very well the Three Billy Goats Gruff, or “East of the Sun, West of the Moon”, but do not have any idea of who Asbjørnsen or Moe are. Maybe if they hanged out a bit on the Internet they’ll have heard of Prince Lindworm, and if they are a diehard fan of Tolkien they’ll know of Soria Moria Castle - but that will be it. On the 150 Norwegian fairytales collected by the “Grimms of the North”.

Similarly, Americans will know by heart a trilogy of English fairytales: Jack and the Beanstalk, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, and The Three Little Pigs. But all the other stories collected by Joseph Jacobs are ignored by the general American audience - Cap O’Rushes, The Buried Moon, Kate Crackernuts...

And of course, same thing with the French stories. Every “general” fairytale book in America will have Perrault’s Cinderella or Puss in Boots, all the while ignoring his other stories (that are known by every kid in France) such as Donkeyskin or Little Thumbling.

There’s a truly “pick and choose those you’ll like best” mindset in the American perception of fairytales. Even with the fairytales Americans know the best about - like the Grimm fairytales. On the hundreds of stories, it all gets down to Snow-White, Briar Rose, Rapunzel, The Frog King (well, Prince as most people make the mistake), Hansel and Gretel, and maybe a few others.

And by selecting this handful (or sometimes less of a handful) of fairytales from each country, from each author, from each era, Americans formed together a sort of given set of “classic” fairytales they keep rehashing and repeating and reusing and re-deconstructing throughout their fictional works.

#just a random thought

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theyraylovehate · 1 year

Text

Wheel of Fan Fiction Masterlist

Smut 🔥

Fluff 🌸

Angst 💧

*This is like brand new so most of the characters won't have anything just yet*

•Stranger things

-Billy Hargrove

-Steve Harrington

-Eddie Munson

-Robin Buckley (Fem/NB only)

-Argyle

-Johnathan Byers

-Nancy Wheeler

-Jim Hopper

-Joyce Byers

-001/Henry

-Will Byers (No smut)

-Mike Wheeler (No smut)

-Max Mayfield (No smut)

Hateful Cuddling - Female reader 🌸

-Dustin Henderson (No smut)

-Lucas Sinclair (No smut)

-Eleven (Jane) Hopper (No smut)

•Marvel

-Iron Man/Tony Stark

-Captian America/Steve Rogers

-Black Widow/Natasha Romanoff

-Hawkeye/Clint Barton

-Hulk/Bruce Banner

-Thor

-Loki

-Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes

-Black Panther/T'challa

-Doctor Strange/Steven Strange

-Scarlet Witch/Wanda Maximoff

-Quicksilver/Pietro Maximoff

-Starlord/Peter Quill

-Gamora

-Spiderman/Peter Parker

-Falcon/Sam Wilson

-War Machine/James Rhodes

-Valkyrie (Fem/NB only)

•X-Men

-Professor X/Charles Xavier

-Magneto/Erik Lensherr

-Wolverine/James Howlett

-Quicksilver/Peter Maximoff

-Rogue

-Jean Grey

-Storm/Ororo Munroe

-Cyclops/Scott Summers

-Mystique/Raven

-Beast/Henry "Hank" McCoy

-Nightcrawler/Kurt Wagner

-Havok/Alexander Summers

•DC/Young Justice

-Batman/Bruce Wayne

-Superman/Clark Kent

-The Flash/Barry Allen

-Aquaman/Authur Curry

-Cyborg/Victor Stone

-Joker/Jack Oswald White

-Harley Quinn/Harleen Quinzel

-Wonder Woman/Diana Prince

-DeadShot/Floyd Lawton

-Kid Flash/Wally West

-Nightwing (Robin #1)/ Dick Grayson

-Red Hood (Robin #2)/ Jason Todd

-Robin (#3)/ Tim Drake

-Beast Boy/Garfield Logan

-Superboy/Johnathan "Jon" Kent

-Artemis/Artemis Crock

-Red Arrow/Roy Harper

-Green Arrow/Oliver Queen

-Black Canary/Dinah Lance

-Miss Martian/Megan Morse

-Aqualad/Kaldur'ahm

•Umbrella Academy

-Luther Hargreeves (#1)

-Diego Hargreeves (#2)

-Allison Hargreeves (#3)

-Klaus Hargreeves (#4)

-Five Hargreeves (#5)

-Ben Hargreeves (#6)

-Viktor Hargreeves (#7)

-Marcus Hargreeves (#1)

-Fei Hargreeves (#3)

-Alphonso Hargreeves (#4)

-Sloan Hargreeves (#5)

-Jayme Hargreeves (#6)

-Lila Aryu

-The Handler

•Harry Potter

-Harry Potter

-Ron Weasley

-Hermione Granger

-Fred Weasley

-George Weasley

-Ginny Weasley

-Draco Malfoy

-Sirius Black (Older)

-Cedric Diggory

-Oliver Wood

-Neville Longbottom

-Luna Lovegood

-Remus Lupin (Older)

-Nymphadora Tonks

-Lucious Malfoy (Older)

-Narcissa Malfoy (Older)

-Severus Snape (Older)

-Bill Weasley

-Charlie Weasley

•Marauders

-James Potter

Friendly Love - Male reader 🌸

-Lily Evans

-Sirius Black

-Remus Lupin

-Severus Snape

-Regulus Black

-Lusious Malfoy

-Narcissa Black

-Peter Pettigrew

•Greek Mythology

-Zeus

-Hades

-Posideon

-Apollo

-Hera

-Persephone

-Ares

-Athena

-Demeter

-Aphrodite

-Artemis

-Dionysus

-Hermes

•Divergent

-Beatrice "Tris" Prior

-Caleb Prior

-Eric

-Peter

-Christina

-Will

-Tobias "Four"

-Zeke

Zip line of Love - Nonbinary Reader (Requested) 🌸

-Uriah

•Star Wars

-Anakin Skywalker

-Luke Skywalker

-Leia Organa

-Han Solo

-Obi-Wan Kenobi

-Kylo Ren

•Supernatural

-Dean Winchester

-Sam Winchester

-Castiel

-Crowley

-Lucifer

-Rowena MacLeod

-Gabriel

-Charlie Bradbury (Fem/NB only)

-Chuck Shurley

-Jody Mills

-Ellen Harvelle

-Kevin Tran

•The Walking Dead

-Rick Grimes

-Daryl Dixon

-Glenn Rhee

-Carl Grimes

-Maggie Greene

-Negan

-Michonne

-Shane Walsh

-Rosita Espinosa

-Carol Peletier

-Paul "Jesus" Monroe

-Abraham Ford

‐Tara Chambler (Fem/NB only)

-Enid

-Ezekiel

-Aaron (Masc/NB only)

•The Walking Dead Game

-Clementine

-Lee

-Kenny

-Luke

-Javier

-Gabriel

-Kate

-Louis

-Omar

-Ruby

-Mitch

-Marlon

-Violet (Fem/NB only)

IT (2017)

-Richie Tozier

-Beverly Marsh

-Eddie Kaspbrak

-Bill Denbrough

-Stanley Uris

-Ben Hanscom

-Henry Bowers

-Mike Hanlon

-Patrick Hockstetter

-Victor Criss

-Belch Huggins

•Desendants

-Mal

-Evie

-Ben

-Jay

-Jane

-Chad

-Doug

-Lonnie

-Carlos

-Uma

-Harry Hook

-Gil

•Maze Runner

-Newt

-Minho

-Gally

-Teresa

-Alby

-Chuck

-Brenda

-Aris

-Thomas

-Frypan

-Jorge

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redqueenphoenix · 7 months

Text

State Championship (TWD Fan Fic Part 5)

State Championship Part 5

(A TWD Fan Fiction)

I do not own any of the rights to The Walking Dead, nor do I own any of the characters mentioned from here on in, other than Victoria Hawkins. Some situations have been changed and some people may have been switched in this alternate universe.

All characters in this fan fiction are over the age of 21 years old.

Coach Negan Smith X Female OC

Word Count:1337

~*~

Part 5

Victoria’s eyes went wide as she recognized the voice in her ear. Her heart fluttered as she continued to dance. Looking down at his hand she realized quickly that he wasn’t in the clothes she's used to seeing him in.

“Whooooaaaa!” Samantha called out from the raised stage as she saw who was dancing with Victoria. Nudging the other girls.

“You go girl!” Barbie hollered as she leaned off the rail to the stage.

Victoria bit her lip as she mustered up the courage to turn around while still dancing. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes took in Negan. He was in a business casual two piece black suit with a white button up. Her eyes lingered on the collar, counting the buttons he left unbuttoned. Three, the most deadly number to her now due to the amount of his chest it showed her. She attempted to focus on her dancing as she watched him, perfect timing in his steps.

The music began to shift again into a much slower, more intimate song. Negan smirked as his hand that was around her hip snaked around her back and pulled her into him.

This forced Victoria to have to change her stance allowing his foot to step between hers. She brought her arm to rest on his shoulder as they began to dance. Blush creeped to her cheeks as they began to do a slow grind to the song.

Negan’s eyes locked on hers as he smirked knowing exactly what he was doing to her. Enjoying the blush that colored her cheeks and the way her breathing changed when he started this dance with her.

Victoria felt like the world was spinning as she danced closely with him. This was almost unreal to her as she kept up with him. She dared to look down for a brief moment as her mind wandered, watching hips brush into hers. If he was this good at dancing then…

“What’s on that pretty mind?” He chuckled as his free hand came up to her chin tilting her face back up to his. “I bet I know what it is.” He moved his hip into her a bit harder as the song began to shift.

A small gasp left her lips as his thigh brushed the apex of her legs.

“Exactly what I thought was on your mind.” A devil’s smirk on his lips as the song picked up to a faster beat.

The DJ began to call out as the song picked up, “I want everybody to stop what they doing. Now if you know you're with somebody you're gonna take the hotel room tonight. Make some noise!”

Victoria’s jaw dropped as Negan called out with the rest of the guys as they cheered at the comment while ‘Hotel Room Service’ by Pitbull blared over the speakers.

Negan smirked as he turned to her, “What? We’re in the same hotel.” He turned to leave the dance floor leaving Victoria stunned.

The fluttering in her chest quickly faded as he walked away from her. Her left eye twitched at the comment. Taking a deep breath she stormed after him, slipping past and headed straight for the bar. She leaned over the bar seductively and waved down the bartender. “Excuse me, sir. Jack and coke please.” Her voice sultry as she ordered knowing that he was within hearing distance.

Negan’s jaw tightened as she leaned over the bar flirting with the bartender. Leaning against the bar next to her. “That bratty shit doesn't work with me.” He sneered as he looked over at her.

Taking her drink from the bartender she turned to him with a flustered expression. Opening her mouth to say something then snapping it shut.

“Look doll, I like you too, but there are complications to it all. Harmless flirting is great, this cat and mouse game is exciting…” He laughed as he placed his elbow on the bar looking at her, “but we both know that it won’t work out the way you want it to.”

The comment cut into Victoria like a hot knife through butter. Her mind reeled as she brought the glass to her lips, downing it as fast as she could. Slamming the glass down she turned from the bar and headed for the entrance.

Negan let out an exasperated breath as he rolled his eyes. Waving off the bartender he followed Victoria out of the nightclub. The cool evening air hit him as he saw her heading down the street. “Vicky, wait.” He called out after her.

Victoria looked over her shoulder as she stopped to wait to cross the street. Trying to ignore Negan.

“God damn it, Victoria!” He finally caught up to her and grabbed her arm.

“What?” She yanked her arm from him.

“What’s gotten into you?” He watched as she scurried across the street with him behind her.

“You have.” She snapped, waving her hand as she turned to face him once they crossed the street. “I like you and you make my heart flutter. I’m just some stupid girl that was in your college sports class to you.”

He grabbed her arm again and brought her into his chest, holding her arms. “Is that what you think?” His face contorted into one of bewilderment. “That you’re just some random girl in my class.”

She nodded as she looked at him. “Yeah.”

“Then what the hell was the bus? Why the hell do you fluster me so damn much?” He intensely stared down at her. “And why do I think about everything that you could lose over this?”

Victoria looked up at him in shock hearing that he was stopping himself from giving in completely because of what could happen to her. She suddenly felt so stupid and selfish over it all. “I…” She couldn’t even find the words to respond.

“You, what? You wanna do this? Then fine.” He brought his hand up to the back of her neck, his lips crashing into hers.

Victoria’s eyes went wide as he kissed her.

Negan pulled back with a frustrated growl, “kiss me back.” He brought his lips back down to hers inwardly chuckling at her shock.

Closing her eyes she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned into his kiss. The sensation that came over her as his arms wrapped around her waist dizzied her.

Pulling back he looked down at her with a smile, “Now let’s finish this in my room.” His hand came down to hers as they entered the hotel.

She felt butterflies in her stomach as they made their way through the lobby towards the elevator. Stepping onto the glass elevator, Victoria closed her eyes as the glass cylinder moved.

Negan’s eyes went to her, clearly she was not alright with the elevator. He moved, wrapping his arm around her and pressing her against the glass, bringing his lips to hers to numb her mind to the elevator.

The doors opened behind them as he stepped out motioning towards their rooms. Victoria stepped out and began down the hallway, excitement building with each step.

He stopped in front of the room she shared with the girls, “last chance to change your mind.”

She shook her head and kept walking, smiling at him as she passed him. Shaking his head with a smile, he fell into step with her and pulled his key from his blazer. This is going to prove to be an interesting night, he thought as he opened his door letting her into his room.

~*~

Part 6 (NSFW, +18)

#fan fiction #ao3 #negan #the walking dead #writer #twd negan #twd fanfiction #negan fanfiction #negan smith #the walking dead negan #negan x reader #negan smut #twd dead city #twd #negan x oc #negan x you

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allylikethecat · 5 months

Note

i hate inflicting more pain onto him but you do "insecure matty comforted by g" so well, could we get a little snippet on him reacting to all the "twink death" posts on twitter 🥹

HELLO KIND ANON!

Thank you so much for going rogue and just like... sending me a prompt that wasn't on any kind of list. If anyone else wants to just... send me a prompt situation from the depths of their mind I am HERE and READY for it!

This little snippet ended up being 2k words and I'm not totally sure how that happened and I was going to try and cut it down some but then decided that this was my blog so I can do what I want and we are full send posting the entire thing. I'm not sure if this is what you are looking for, but here we are! Also I mean no offense to anyone with this one (Fictional!Matty per the prompt is upset about the Twink Death posts and it sends him spiraling about his relationship with fans and also fictional!George) and I hope you enjoy it! Also I 100% made up the twitter handle and I mean no offense if there is anyone out there with that handle.

Thank you so much and let me know what you think!

❤️Ally

Matty knew he wasn’t supposed to be on Twitter anymore. His therapist had told him so, George had told him so. Social media was a cesspool, it wasn’t real life, and it only ever served to bring him down. Matty knew he had an addictive personality, and a short attention span, so sometimes it felt like social media had been made just for him, projecting colorful, easily digestable, bite size bits of information right to his brain. (Rationally he knew that was the entire point of an algorithm but that didn’t mean it made him feel any less special.)

Scrolling through Twitter was like pressing on a bruise, he couldn’t help but love the sting even though it only hurt him. Whenever he went on Twitter he ended up doom scrolling until he sent himself into a depressive spiral, focusing on all the people who hated him and wanted him to overdose and die, which he then coped with by getting drunk and posting the wrong thing.

Matty knew he wasn’t supposed to be on Twitter anymore, but George was distracted and Matty was too tired to even sleep and apparently a masochist as he settled onto the hotel bed and re-downloaded the app, a white X on a black background instead of the blue bird he had grown to love to hate. He logged in quickly with one of his many burner accounts, a ‘75 fan account that no one had even joking speculated was actually him. A tingling thrill of anticipation moved up his spine, not unlike the buzz he used to feel when he went out to score, as his feed loaded. He quickly glanced over at George guilty, who was still staring intently at his laptop, sitting at the hotel desk, headphones on, working on something. He felt like a little kid with his hand in the cookie jar, just asking to be caught and disciplined.

Confident that George wouldn’t be paying him any mind, at least for a little while, Matty began scrolling. There were fans proclaiming their love for him, and that they wanted to have his babies, invasive fan theories about him and Ross of all people that couldn’t be further from the truth, pictures of Taylor in Brazil, then more pictures of her pretending she gave a rat's arse about football. Sandwiched between a gif of a cat falling off of the counter and a tweet proclaiming Jack Antanoff a chaos gremlin Matty saw it.

He nearly scrolled past the two pictures posted side by side. If he was going to be naughty and looking through twitter, he was going to at least try and avoid too much of his own press, but he couldn’t help but stop. It was a picture of him from 2014, he was on stage, clutching a microphone and a cigarette in the same hand, his pale blue button down half unbuttoned and nearly slipping off his shoulder, his collar bone jutting out razor sharp. His curls were overgrown and unbrushed, falling around his face, a dark curtain he used to desperately hide behind. He had a vague memory of that day, at least he thought it might have been that day. He had been wearing that shirt the first time George kissed him for real. It had been the last time he had worn the shirt as well, the buttons hadn’t survived George’s eager hands.

The other picture was from a few nights ago, a tight gray tee shirt clinging to his chest and biceps, the mustache he had grown back at George’s sheepish request twitched in amusement. He looked so much healthier in the second photo, and he was surprised to see it, surprised to see how stark the contrast was. He was pleased that the fans were seeing it too, that they were seeing how much work he had been putting into himself. He wasn’t hiding behind his hair anymore, hence the shorter curls. He was eating better, he was working out. He was trying not to drink as much, he was trying not to smoke as much. He was, after years of therapy, and a few hospital stays that he was happy never actually made it into the press, and more patience and support from George than Matty was sure he deserved, he was actually doing well. The new combination of medication was helping, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Then he saw the caption. Twink Death. He blinked. What did they mean, twink death. He was actively taking steps to better himself and healyslut69 was clearly being ridiculous, acting like a piece of him had died. He was the same person, he just wasn’t twenty five and addicted to smack anymore. Not that he had ever been a twink in the first place. He was a manly man, thank you very much. He clicked on the tweet, eager to scroll through the thread and see the replies calling out healyslut69 for being absolutely ridiculous. Twink Death, he scoffed, absolutely ridiculous. That was until he saw that all of the replies were in agreement with healyslut69. They were all mourning his alleged twink death.

He let out a little whine of frustration, then quickly glanced up from his phone to make sure George hadn’t heard him. Thankfully, George was still engrossed in whatever track he was working on, headphones on, clicking away. This is absolutely ridiculous, Matty thought, thumbing away from the thread to go back to his feed. This group of fans didn’t know what they were on about. He frowned as he saw another post relating to the topic, then another, and then another. He swallowed hard. Maybe healyslut69 wasn’t the one that was wrong. Maybe he was.

He scrolled up, finding the original tweet once again. He looked at the two photos, bringing his phone up closer to his face to examine them as if he wasn’t looking at the face he saw in the mirror every morning. Maybe he didn’t look like the same person anymore. Maybe it was more than just getting clean, cutting his hair and gaining at least a stone. Maybe a piece of him really had died. He swallowed hard, his thick smoker’s saliva catching in his throat causing him to cough wetly. At that George did turn his head, lifting one of the headphones away from his ear.

“You ‘right?” George asked, frowning, as he took in the look on Matty’s face.

Matty quickly waved him off. “Yeah, just swallowed wrong,” he said, flashing George a thumbs up.

George frowned but turned back to his laptop anyway and Matty went back to his phone, clicking on the original tweet must have triggered something in his algorithm because he was suddenly bombarded with posts about how much he had changed, how much the fans wanted the “old Matty back” how they wanted to “Make Matty Gay again” as if he wasn’t in a fucking relationship with a man and had been for the past nine years.

The more he read the more the self doubt started creeping in. It was slow at first, and he almost didn’t notice it. It was like frostbite, creeping through his body, overwhelming his senses without him even realizing until it was too late. He pressed the side button to lock his phone and tossed it onto the bed, where it proceeded to slide off the sheets and land on the floor with a clatter. He let out a groan of frustration and self pity, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. He just couldn’t fucking win.

“Okay,” said George, taking his headphones completely off and spinning around in the swivel chair to look at Matt, quickly glancing at his phone on the floor, then back to Matty. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” said Matty stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest, feeling ridiculous for even being upset that some faceless fan account was mourning his supposed “twink death,” even as his lower lip began to tremble. Fuck Matty though, unable to meet George’s gaze and the loving concern he knew he was going to see painted across his face. He was going to start crying. He froze, feeling like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. What if George didn’t find him as attractive anymore, what if George missed how he used to look, all skinny and delicate, with long messy hair, sucking on a cigarette instead of eating breakfast, lunch or dinner.

What if that was why their sex life had gotten less active as they got older. They still had plenty of sex, and Matty had always been satisfied, but what if that was the reason the shirt destroying urgency was gone, what if that was why George wasn’t tossing him onto the nearest surface at every opportunity anymore. Matty had thought they were just getting older, maturing, leveling out, but what if George just wasn’t as attracted to him anymore?! What if that was why George had wanted him to grow the mustache, what if he was trying to find some new way to make sleeping with him less of a chore.

Matty couldn’t help it, he looked up, at kind, sweet, understanding and supportive George, who forced himself to fuck him even though he wasn’t attracted to him anymore, and instantly burst into the tears he had been fighting.

George blinked in surprise, clearly he hadn’t been expecting that. He stood up, closing the distance between them as he sat down next to Matty on the bed, carefully pulling him into his arms even as Matty kept his hands pressed to his face.

“What’s wrong, love,” said George softly, rubbing a large hand in careful circles against Matty’s back. “Did something happen? Is your family okay?”

Guilt burned in Matty’s stomach, as he pressed his hand to his mouth as if he could push all the upset back inside of his chest, as if he could swallow it back down to his belly where it belonged.

“They’re fine,” Matty said with a hiccup, “I’m fine, sorry, fuck, I’m fine,” he rubbed at his eyes, even as his breath hitched, “you can get back to work, I’m fine.”

“Matthew,” said George softly, pulling Matty’s hands away from his face. “Something is clearly wrong, what can I do to help?”

George’s kindness just made Matty cry harder, burying his face in George’s shoulder. He knew he was being extremely dramatic and over the top right now, crying because some fans on the internet were mourning his alleged “twink death” was ridiculous even for him. But it wasn’t just about the fans on the internet, it was hundreds of little things he had pushed down until he just couldn’t take it anymore and it all boiled over. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be famous anymore, he wasn’t sure he ever had.

It was the fans that seemed to hate him always criticizing his outfit choices, the ones complaining about the set lists he painstakingly put together, the ones who complained that he didn’t talk enough during gigs, and the ones who complained when he did. It was the fans, and not fans, that took every word he had ever spoken ever, and twisted it round in circles until it didn’t even make sense anymore. It was the ones accusing him of being the worst person alive. It was the ones wishing death upon him and his loved ones. It was the way that no matter what he did, no matter how much of himself he gave to the masses, it was never enough and never what they wanted. He was just so fucking tired, and seeing that tweet broke something inside of him in a way that he hadn’t been expecting. It filled him with even more self loathing and doubt, why had he even bothered to get clean, why had he even bothered to try and get healthy, everyone liked him better strung out anyway it seemed.

“Just some dumb fans on the internet,” said Matty quietly, trying to get his breathing under control, George was still rubbing his back soothingly.

“Matty,” said George sadly, his heart breaking. He wasn’t going to address the fact that they both already knew Matty wasn’t supposed to be looking at Twitter.

“Do you,” said Matty, pulling away slightly, needing to hear the words straight from George’s mouth, needing to rip the bandaid off. If George didn’t like him like this he would figure it out. He’d lose the weight again, he’d grow out his hair. “Do you,” he swallowed hard, “do you still like me?”

“What kind of absolute bullshit question is that?” George asked, “of course I like you Matty, I fucking love you.”

Matty swallowed again, weighing his words. “Are you, are you still attracted to me?”

“Jesus Christ Matty,” said George, “what is this about? Yes I’m very much still attracted to you, always have been and always will be.”

“Even though I’m not as,” Matty could bring himself to say the word, “delicate anymore?” he asked instead.

“What do you mean?” George asked not following along. Matty sighed and pulled away from George’s arms, leaning over the side of the bed to retrieve his phone. He unlocked it, keeping his eyes down cast as he handed it to George.

George frowned, looking over the tweet, a crinkle forming between his eyebrows. He relocked Matty’s phone without saying a word and reached over to set it on the nightstand.

“I,” said George leaning in and pushing Matty onto his back so he could hover over him. “Love you.” He kissed Matty’s deeply, licking into his mouth, before nipping lightly on his lower lip. “And I will always love you and think you’re the sexiest man alive.”

“Even though I’m not a twink anymore?” Matty couldn’t help but ask even as he felt George’s erection digging into his thigh.

George snorted. “If anything, it’s even hotter that I don’t have to worry about hurting you.”

Matty couldn’t help the grin that broke out across his face, and George couldn’t help but kiss it away.