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girlgenius1111 · 6 months

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make it better

a cure for frustration: part 2

warnings: angst / hurt comfort. smut. 18+. thanks for reading :)

2.3k words

If you had to pick a favorite part of Alexia's body, it would be her lips. Or maybe her abs. There were a lot of options, as you were reminded as you laid on top of her, lips meeting hers. This kiss was different than the ones before, less hungry. The first round had relaxed you both, and your mouth moved against her full lips, little sounds leaving her when your tongue entered her mouth. You loved her best like this; hands softly holding your face as she kissed you, her love for you evident in her gentle touch. You had no doubt that things would turn definitively less gentle soon enough, but you didn't mind. Anyway Alexia wanted you, she could have you.

You broke apart, both of you gasping for breath having gone far too long without air. You leaned your forehead down to press against hers, your eyes meeting her green ones. In the dim light of your room, her eyes were warm. You couldn't explain it, but they gazed up at you with such softness, you felt yourself melt. Her gaze was intense, and suddenly you were blushing, the light brush of your nose against hers, hot breaths mingling together. You move lower on her body, ignoring the sensation of your core sliding against her for now, pressing your face into her neck.

Almost overcome by a sudden wave of affection for the woman underneath you, you mumbled a soft "Te amo" into her neck.

Her chest rumbled under you with a small laugh. She was always amused by how much she affected you; both of you felt like the other was potentially the most perfect being on earth. Enjoying your spot against her neck, surrounded by the smell of her perfume and something else that was just so Alexia, you felt her hands drift lower on your body, until they were gripping your waste tightly, as she adjusted your lower half to settle over one of her thighs, and began to rock you against her. She bent her knee up slightly, planting her foot on the bed, and tensing the muscles of her quad. A moan slipped past your lips before you could stop it. You slid against her easily, still incredibly wet from your previous orgasm, only getting wetter as she guided your movements against her. She turned her head into your neck and began to suck lightly against the skin she found there. Her lips pulled away slightly as she spoke in a raspy voice in your ear.

"You're making a bit of a mess there amor" she whispered, and you shuddered. "Do you like to ride my thigh, hmm? You like it when I move you against me, and all you have to do is what my hands tell you?" her words were filthy, and you felt yourself pressing down harder against her, shifting slightly until the pressure on your clit was perfect, her muscles tensing even more up into you. You nodded against her, gasps falling out of your mouth, but she kept going. "Tell me. Tell me how much you like it" her fingers tightened on your hips, rocking you faster.

"Love it. Shit. Love how good you make me feel Ale, so good" she seemed satisfied with your response, as breathless as it was, and you chased your high, hips moving frantically against her. You could feel how wet her thigh was underneath you, her hands roughly moving you back and forth, her lips returning to suck a new mark on your jawline. It was perfect, all so perfect. "Gonna come. Please don't stop," you barely got the words out before Alexia did stop, suddenly flipping you over, your body now under hers.

Her legs were achingly far away from where you needed her, and you whined, opening your eyes to see her smirking down at you, her eyes hungry as they gazed down at you, clearly enjoying how ruined you looked. Your hips rose to search for any friction they could find, which proved to be a mistake as she lifted off of you completely, sliding off the bed, and taking her time to open the bedside drawer, searching for the perfect item.

Your eyes followed her hungrily, finding her ass as she bent over slightly, hands rifling through the many toys you had. You couldn't help yourself, the sight of her turned around being one of your favorites, sliding a hand down your body to rub harsh circles over your clit. The noise your hand made against you was very audible, and very obscene, and she turned, eyes narrowing as she saw what you were doing.

"Cuidado" she said quietly, the warning in her voice clear. The look on her face was enough for you to pull your hand away, but not enough for you to stop egging her on completely. Instead, you moved your hand up to your breast, squeezing tightly before pinching your nipple in between your fingers, keeping your eyes on hers. She quirked one eyebrow at you, but turned back to the drawer, finally pulling out a strap and fastening it around her waste. You were slightly unsettled by her lack of response to your actions, but quickly got distracted, noticing she'd picked the the dildo that had a smaller part that slid into her when she put it on.

She turned back to you, walking slowly towards the bed as you let your hand fall away from your chest. You gazed at her mesmerized, convinced she was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. Her hair fell messily around her face, the blonde a sharp contrast to her tanned skin.

You were truly distracted by her beauty, and you let out a gasp, startled, as she grabbed your legs, yanking you down the bed to meet where she stood at the side of the mattress. She leaned over you, concerning breaking through the mask of dominance she'd put on, her eyes searching yours. You could only nod up at her, and she pressed a light kiss to the tip of your nose, before leaning back, straightening up and looking down at you with a pensive expression.

"Show me how much you want me, bonita " she paired her words with her her hand grabbing yours, guiding it between your legs. Instead of listening, you reached for the toy strapped to her waste, trying to pull it against you, eyes falling shut. You were normally much better behaved than this, but something told you Alexia didn't really want you to be good. At least not right away.

Gripping your wrist, she pulled your hand away from her and back to rest against your core. Her voice was harsh when she spoke.

"Are you being shy now? You were so eager a second ago. Venga mi niña bonita, show me how you fuck yourself." She guided your fingers into your cunt. "Show me how good you can be, and i'll let you come." Her words were still harsh, but tinted with a hint of praise, everything she knew you liked, everything you ached for.

You slid your fingers in and out, not wasting time as you curled them against your front wall. You let out a loud moan, deciding that if Alexia wanted a show, she'd get a show. You were absolutely dripping, and the sounds your fingers made paired with the sounds falling out of your mouth were pornographic. You whimpered Alexia's name as you neared the edge, not sure if she would let you finish.

Grabbing your hand and pulling your fingers out of you carefully, she hummed, softly running her hands up and down your thighs as your legs shook pathetically. You were a mess under her, and you opened your eyes to gaze up at her pleadingly.

"Not yet, bebe. Want you to come on my cock, vale?"

With that, she guiding you to flip over, lifting your hips into the air, and pressing your face into the mattress. She palmed your ass, before sliding the plastic dick into you painfully slowly. She let out a deep, long moan as she bottomed out inside of you, the little piece inside of her pressing just right, as the strap pressed against her small bundle of nerves. You gasped into the mattress. Deciding she'd dragged it out long enough, she began to fuck you, pulling the strap out all the way before pushing it back into you in one fluid motion.

"Fuck. Ale. Fuck." You were a mess under her, hands fisting into the sheets as moans of your girlfriend's name joined the filthy sound of her sliding in and out of you, the sound of her hips meeting your body loudly. Her moans above you only turned you on more.

"So good for me, bonita. Taking it so well, such a good girl," her words were breathless, her own pleasure catching up to her fast, still focused on making it good for you, making sure you knew how happy she was with you. You let out a loud cry as she pounded into you, one which she recognized as the sound you made just before you came. She wrapped an arm around your chest, pulling you up until you were pressed back into her. She thrust into you faster, moving her hand up to wrap around your throat, applying light pressure, moving her other hand to rub frantically at your clit. The new angle put more pressure on her, and she felt herself nearing the edge.

"Come with me bebe. Make a mess for me," she managed to gasp out the words, and suddenly you were trembling against her, screaming her name. The sound you made pushed her over the edge, and she thrust up into you one last time, holding you tight against her body. Your orgasm seemed to go on forever, until you were resting limp against her, head on her shoulder as she moved her hand away from your core and gently pulled out of you. She collapsed onto the bed, pulling you with her, as you both fought to catch your breath. Your eyes fluttered shut, her hand rubbing softly on your back, as you let the sound of her heartbeat bring you back down to reality.

----

You both had showered, put on pajamas, changed the sheets and climbed into bed an hour later before you decided to bring up her odd behavior in the locker room. You were resting in Alexia's arms, back to her chest, as she pressed light kisses against your temple, occasionally whispering sweet words into your ear.

"Ale?" your voice was soft as it broke the peaceful silence.

"Hmm?"

"You seemed upset earlier. In the locker room, when you looked at your phone." She hummed noncommittally at your words, neither agreeing or disagreeing with your statement. "Do you wanna tell me whats wrong?" At this, she sighed, resting her head against yours.

"It was nothing. Just. Everyone always has something to say. About my knee, about my contract, about the fucking goal. What was I supposed to do? Not make sure it went in?" You turn your head slightly, heart breaking a little bit at the tears pooling in Alexia's eyes. "I kiss the Barca badge and people still feel the need to question where I'm gonna go. It's just so much. All the time, it never stops." Her voice broke on the last word, and her eyes squeezed shut, trying to stop the tears from falling.

You rolled off of her, laying down next to her and opening your arms without a word, just tugging her hand lightly. She got the message, scooting down to bury herself in your warmth, face tucked against your neck. You felt tears hitting your neck, and you stayed quiet for a moment, holding her tightly.

"People are always going to have something to say, baby. I wish they wouldn't, but they will. They don't matter, what they say doesn't matter. What matters is how you feel, how the team feels. The team knows you, they know you wouldn't steal a goal, they know you aren't being a diva about contract negotiations." You pause, pressing a kiss to the side of her face. "I know you, and I know your heart. And I love it. You're my Ale, no one else's. What they say, what they think, doesn't matter. All that matters is you and me."

You hold your breath as you finish, hoping you said the right thing. Alexia was a very strong individual, and it wasn't often that you found yourself in this position. Often, it was the other way around. She always knew what to say, what to do. You hoped your words would be enough.

She pulled back, her watery eyes meeting yours as her bottom lip trembled. Her gaze searched yours, as if trying to determine whether or not you were being honest. You wiped a tear off her cheek with the pad of your thumb, before she pressed into you, her lips meeting yours in a wet kiss. She pulled back again after a minute, looking at you through her long lashes, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Thank you. Te quiero. Te quiero mucho." Her voice was tired, but you could tell she felt less weighed down. You pulled her impossibly closer into your body, legs tangling beneath the sheets, as you pressed a kiss onto her forehead.

"Always, amor. I love you," you whispered against her forehead feeling as she relaxed into you, the long day finally catching up to her. You felt yourself drifting off too, completely surrounded by her warmth. Your last thoughts as you dozed off were that you felt incredibly lucky to be the one to get to be there for her.

-----

thank you for reading :) i hope this was what people were hoping for.

sidenote. i barely know how to work tumblr but let me know if you have anything specific you want me to write. smut or not smut. ill probably write for most people you request. finals are coming up so obviously i need something to do instead of studying.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso imagine #woso #woso x reader

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starryschoolgirl · 6 months

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Just A Man

| A Soldier's Song Installment |

Summary -> As the weeks leading up to Elvis' deployment to Europe begin to dwindle you and Elvis try to help your son understand what it will mean. Meanwhile, inevitable tensions between you and Elvis are pushed to the side as the two of you figure sex is better than facing your issues, especially with such little time left together.

Warnings -> mention of family death, domestic fluff, flirting, mention of war, pre-deployment, Elvis being a young dad & husband, (much needed) sex with 50s Elvis, angsty undertones, smut, kitchen sex, swearing, foot kink, stocking kink, almost footjob(?), breeding kink, oral (f. receiving), unsafe sex

WC -> 5.8k

A/N -> So this is more of a prologue to the actual events of which this au series is based upon, to sort of give a glance into what life was like before Elvis gets deployed to Europe, I hope you enjoy it! In the next installment, we WILL see Elvis in uniform. This is an installation of the A Soldier's Song AU

“That one made my hand hurt Frankie!”

The little boy giggled at his daddy’s shocked face.

That battering of a baseball against a leather mitt is all that kept you company on the back porch of your home. Watching the two boys, your two boys, in the yard tossing the ball back and forth puts a smile on your face, but as you turn your head to the empty chair next to you that smile falls ever so slightly, missing the warmth that often emanated from that chair.

Elvis had been at basic training when she passed and was only able to make it back in time for her funeral, but even then while you were a wreck he remained as strong as he could. He held you in one arm and held your little boy in the other as the service proceeded.

You’d only had two grief-filled days with him before he went back to finish his basic training, you couldn’t even figure out whether or not he’d really come to terms with his mama because it all happened so fast. And now you’d only have a few final weeks with your man, all crisp and in shape from basic training, till he was off to a poor war-stricken country in Europe.

With that in mind you remembered to smile, in the knick of time too as Elvis looked up at you after running to pick up the stray ball that had rolled along the grass toward the porch due to your little boy’s poor aim.

He stared up at you like the school boy he used to be, and said with that tone of voice you’d often heard since he first laid eyes on you, “Hey there Cutie”

And like the school girl you used to be, you’d blush and only offer a small smile as you waved him off, “Go play with your son”

Elvis gave you that look, he wanted to say something he couldn’t say in front of young ears. He got up, ball in one hand while he wore his leather brown mitt on the other, with each step up the wood porch his smile grew, you could feel his curled lips on your cheek as he leaned down to kiss it.

Then quietly he’d murmur in a cooing, baby-talk type tone,

“Daddy wants to play with Mama though”

You rolled your eyes and put a placating hand on his clean-shaven cheek. After leaning forward to press a quick peck to his lips you spoke quietly with that same baby-talk curve to your voice,

“Daddy can play with Mama when Baby goes to bed”

Elvis smiled softly at you and mumbled out a soft and assured, “Alright”, before stepping away to go back down onto the grass, giving Francis, or as Elvis nicknamed him, Frankie, an underhanded toss of the ball.

You turned one last time to the other chair and the empty cushion on it, you couldn’t look at it anymore. Thankfully you were needed elsewhere as you could smell the roast in the oven drift through the window of the kitchen out onto the porch.

After going inside as you tended to the food you could watch Francis and Elvis play about in the yard, it was quite big, but the two of them only remained within a small portion, part of the reason could’ve been because Francis couldn’t yet throw very far.

The sun was setting and the light practically flickered off of Elvis’ hair. Now being in the army he didn’t bother with that black dye, it would just be washed out as soon as he was back at base after all. And it wasn’t like he’d be making movies or releasing songs anytime soon, no not with what he was on his way to do in a few weeks.

You could just barely hear Elvis’ voice as he praised your son, “Frank my boy you might be the Babe Ruth of your generation if ya keep at it”. You couldn’t help but shake your head with a smile, Elvis talking to Francis as if the four-year-old knew who the Babe was and as if he knew what the word “generation” meant.

It was in Elvis’ nature to talk to children in that way though. He always treated them like little adults. You couldn’t recall a time when Elvis didn’t speak to children that way. His mama had made fun of him for it when Francis was two and he could only remark, “Frank is just people, like you and me are just people”

Oh goodness, you thought of her again.

You don’t think a day goes by when you don’t think about her. Elvis’ mama was a godsend, truly. And while he’d never open up about it, you know it’s affecting Elvis immensely. She was so involved in your life ever since you entered Elvis’ and she was always sweet and welcoming.

You could think back to a time not too long ago when after you’d eloped with Elvis and announced the news of your pregnancy at the young age of 18, your parents kicked you to the curb, but she welcomed you with open arms.

At the time Elvis was still driving a truck he hadn’t yet become the “movie star” that he was now. But despite the financial struggles of her Presley flock, Gladys happily welcomed another bird.

It was just a few months ago, before the whole fiasco of Elvis getting drafted and sent off to basic that you’d had a conversation with her in this very kitchen about that.

You told her how appreciative you’d always be toward her for being so welcoming to you, and she told you with an arm around your shoulder, “I’m a mother Hon, it’s only natural. The two of you were babies when ya had that itty bitty boy of yours, I couldn’t ever leave y’all out in the rain, you know that”

You knew no matter what Elvis would have stuck beside you, you knew he’d always be there to hold your hand. After all, you were mothering his child. But it helped so much more that his mother would be on the other side of you, holding your other hand to help you in whatever way you would allow.

Things were slowly returning to normal within the home, her lack of presence isn’t as pronounced, but that’s because she lives through memory now as more time passes, it’s almost like she’s not gone.

You hope that’s how Elvis viewed it. His stone face didn’t leave any slack for a crack or two, and for once it was getting hard to read him. But you’d continue to hope that it isn’t a facade and that he is okay. Yeah, you’d hope with all your might that your man was doing okay.

-----

Dinner was quiet, whenever your voice, or Elvis’ voice, or Francis’ voice didn’t fill the air, love would keep you all company. Of course as always Elvis got on Francis about playing with his food, having grown up poor Elvis was more sensitive to matters of waste such as that.

But if that was the stress high-point of the evening, then you could call it a good evening.

And as you now sat on the edge of the bed, a hand on Francis’ blanket-covered knee while Elvis kneeled on the floor next to the short, small children’s bed, you had a soft smile play on your lips as Elvis talked on the subject of him leaving in a few weeks.

Elvis and you had been explaining night after night to Francis what would soon happen, why his daddy would be going away for a while and what would happen after. After talking about it quite a bit within the first month of knowing about Elvis’ draft you and he decided it was best to be very open on the subject to make it less daunting when Elvis suddenly left home.

And after Gladys’ death you had to explain to Francis that his daddy’s absence would be different from his grandmother’s absence.

“Ya g-gonna fight bad guys Daddy?”

Elvis smiled and brought his hands up in fists, then with a few shadow-box moves which made Francis laugh, Elvis assured,

“You betcha, gonna give the bad guys one of these! And one of these!”

The little boy laughed, his laugh too big for his body as he bent over on the bed and held onto your arm with both his little hands.

After his precious giggles subsided, Francis sat up and asked curiously, a glimmer of what must’ve been a child’s worry in his eyes as he asked with that stutter that his daddy used to have,

“W-what if the bad, bad guys hurt yo-you Dad-Daddy?”

Your smile fell slightly as you and Elvis made eye contact at the suggestion. Of course that is something that you and Elvis had been careful approaching when it came to explaining this sort of thing to Francis.

You couldn’t explain it without truly worrying the boy, you felt tears prickle your eyes at just the thought. Elvis knew of your worries, he knew that quite a few of the girls you were friends with down at the beauty parlor had husband’s overseas, and that a few of them had gotten the dreaded telegram, along with a folded American flag.

He knew all too well your worries as he’d spent many nights being the one to soothe you back to bed. When he’d feign sleep even though he knew you’d spend mornings staring at him, just wanting to look at him as if you would soon lose this view.

Of course if he had died at war it might be different. Having been in a few films and sung a few hit records, he feared that if he died you might find out about his death through the newspapers. You would either find out through that, or as Elvis heard, on rare special occasions they’d send something much more personal, they’d send chaplains and military officers to tell the grieving widow in person.

Elvis hoped if he died he’d be that special occasion, that way you wouldn’t be alone when you heard about his death, the same way you were alone when you saw his mother in her state of death.

“Well,”

He started before getting up, and sitting next to you on the bed. He wrapped an arm around your waist and reached a hand out to rest atop yours which rested on Francis’ knee.

“Listen buddy, that sort of thing might happen, but ya don’t gotta worry. Your daddy’s strong, and he’s gonna get home to you and Mama. He promises.”

Your lip quivered as you tried to smile. Elvis could feel the way your hand tensed under his, he quickly pressed a kiss to your cheek and mumbled quietly for his little family to hear,

“And ya know I’m not a liar, I wouldn’t piss on ya leg and tell ya it’s rainin’ now would I?”

You abruptly turned your head toward Elvis’ crude analogy and hit his shoulder lightly making him laugh as Francis giggled at his daddy using a “nasty” word.

As Elvis laughed he stood up and pulled you with him, leaving enough time for you to kiss Francis goodnight before taking you with just a tug of his arm around your hip.

As you reached for the lamp next to your son’s bed your spoke softly,

“Get a good sleep Frannie”

Once you and Elvis were making your way out of the room he teased you softly with his hand still resting at your hip, “Wish ya would stop callin’ him such a girly name, his name’s Francis”

As soon as you closed the door you laughed softly and pointed out, “So he’s Francis when I call him Frannie but he’s not Francis when you call him Frankie?”

Elvis shrugged and popped out a “yup” as he guided you down the hall. Just before reaching the bedroom you told him you remembered you still had some dishes to do and made a B-line to the staircase to head toward the kitchen.

After getting down there and getting the dishes loaded you found yourself standing in front of the sink, staring down at the soapy dishwater with not a thought in mind.

It was Elvis’ voice that pulled you from your trance as he spoke, “Baby?”

You jumped slightly and turned around to see Elvis throwing you a confused half-smile, his red shirt from earlier was off and he was left in just black trousers and his wedding ring. There was a dampened towel on his shoulders, the tips of his hair were slightly wet, likely from having just washed his face.

You sighed softly with a smile at the sight, “I’ll be up in a minute Handsome, just getting some things done”.

Elvis’ neck stretched slightly as he saw the dishes were washed and now laid on the drying rack, he then turned toward the stove to see that the leftovers were put away. You didn’t have anything to do.

He took a few steps forward, till he could comfortably rest his hands at your hips.

“Looks to me like everythin’s been done, why don’tcha head upstairs with me?”

You took a moment to look around and realized he was right, quick on your feet you slid away from his hands and walked over to the oven and opened it, you gestured a hand toward the inside,

“I haven’t cleaned the oven out yet”

Elvis’ eyebrows furrowed as he shook head and mumbled with a hand on his hip,

“Honey, ya never clean the oven out till the 1st of the month, I mean unless things have changed that much since I’ve been at basic…”

You sighed softly. As you gently closed the oven door Elvis walked over to you with a small frown, his hands finding their place at your hips once again as he asked,

“What’s goin’ on Genevieve?”

You bit your lower lip softly, whenever Elvis called you by your name you knew he was serious, there was no wiggling your way out of it, especially now that he had you pressed back against a kitchen counter, his hands gripping your hips with resolution and a look in his eyes that told you he wasn’t letting you go without a fight.

With a shake of your head you looked away from Elvis, suddenly deeming the drying rack a few feet away to be a better view than your half-naked husband. Elvis’ head followed your gaze and suddenly it was him you were looking at again.

“I just, I wish you would stop doing that…”

Elvis looked confused as he ran a hand through his uncombed hair. He really looked different from a few months ago, his jaw was sharp and his cheeks sort of caved in, but not in the way a waif’s would. His hair was a crisp, fall-ish brown, and his body was cut in a way that felt a little foreign.

While he was naturally slim and tall, he was usually still soft and smooth around the edges. You’d realized his first night back from basic that his body was more sharp and angular, and you worried they weren’t feeding him properly. But as he’d been home a week or two now, his body remained sharp and cut, and now your worries were on your own lacking areas, you knew your food couldn’t replace his mama’s but you’d swear if his mama were here, he’d be back to his soft and squishy self.

“Stop doin’ what Hon?”

As your eyes lingered over his body more you’d completely forgotten what you’d first been talking about as you changed the subject by asking, “Are you still hungry?”

Elvis laughed softly and titled his head to the side, “What are ya talkin’ about?”

Your lower lip quivered in worry and concern, it seems all the dulled emotions you’d been feeling lately came together to overpower your own emotional maturity as your lip wobbled pathetically. As Elvis saw the sight his smile fell and his eyebrows furrowed in worry as he bent down slightly to look you head on. “Oh, Baby, now,” He cupped your cheeks with his hands to keep you from turning away from him.

There was a soft incredulous laugh that left his lips, “Why are ya cryin?”

As Elvis pulled you close to him, you could feel his body shake with each laugh that left his lips, you knew what he was thinking, it was what he always thought (and sometimes said) whenever you started crying, it was-

“You women and your emotions…”

And just as you would everytime, you’d hit his chest with all your might (which would only evoke another laugh at your pitiful effort) and mumble into his chest wetly, “Stop laughing at me Elvis Aaron Presley.”

“Alright, alright, I won’t laugh anymore Mama, now what was it you wish I would stop doin?”

Your arms around his waist tightened slightly as you thought back to the original topic of discussion. Elvis gave you a moment as he rubbed his chin along the top of your head, ruffling your hair in doing so, but you didn’t care enough to mind.

“I just wish you would stop pretending you’re this indestructible force Elvis.”

You could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke,

“Well, I gotta make sure my son knows there ain’t a man better than his Daddy, ya know that Hon”

With a soft sigh you pulled back enough to look Elvis in the eye while your arms remained around his waist.

“I’m talking about with me, Elvis. You do that same thing with me that you do with Francis. You talk to me like I’m a child- Like, like I don’t know what you’re going into, like I haven’t been reading the papers”

Elvis’ smile flatlined as he listened to your words. You continued on.

“I’m your wife Elvis, I know that you’re not some indestructible being.”

As Elvis' eyes lingered away from yours, you placed a hand on his cheek to regain his attention as you could tell he was searching for ways to change the conversation.

“You’re just a man Elvis”

There’s his way out. Elvis bit his lower lip before breaking into a smile as he stared down at you. His hands that were wrapped around your waist fell down to each globe of your ass, giving you a soft squeeze through the fabric of your dress. The abruptness of the action caught your attention as your eyebrow lifted in suspicion and confusion at what he was doing.

Here you were pouring your heart out and he-

“Well, I can admit I am just a man, and a man’s got needs ya know?”

He had a boyish smile on his lips as he said the last part quietly, as if he were a child trying to tempt his mother into letting him get his favorite piece of candy. You knew how this would go, it would go as it always did. You and Elvis would avoid this topic and go on to avoid a few other topics, then in a few weeks or a month you and him would get into a huge argument of all the topics combined just to kiss and make up.

It’s happened often within your relationship, hell, you and him hadn’t fought the entirety of your pregnancy with Francis and on the day your water broke, all hell broke with it as you and Elvis got into a huge argument. You almost gave birth in the house because you refused to have him be the one to drive you to the hospital.

But that would be fine for now, especially when he smiled down at you the way he was now.

Your previous pure look of concern had washed away with a defeated smile as his hands continued to knead the flesh of your ass like dough and his smile only dug into his cheeks further, almost bringing back that full look of them.

With a fond tinge to it, you sighed out,

“You really are just a man”

He brought his nose down to nuzzle against your cheek before pressing his lips against the soft skin, murmuring, “Your man”

“Mhm, my man”

You began to giggle at the ticklish sensation of his lips dragging from your cheek down along the sensitive skin of your neck. You tried tucking your chin into your neck as you continued to let you squealed laughs.

Elvis let out a soft playful growl as he spoke into the skin,

“Flutterin’ around like a bird”

To stop your incessant wiggling Elvis tightened his arms around your waist, his nose changed locations from the crook of your neck to the dip of your collarbone till it landed in the deep neckline of your dress, snug between your breasts as he nuzzled himself into the skin, trying to get a whiff of you in your purest form.

The smell of you at the end of the day, the light scent of your perfume that somehow lingered late in the day mixed with whatever sweat had tried to grace your body, it was a smell he couldn’t get enough of.

His lips began to press gentle little kisses at the inside of both your breasts as he tugged at the neckline a bit more, trying to give himself more ground to cover with his lips. You laughed softly and buried your hands in his brown locks as you pressed numerous kisses atop his head.

You could hear him mumble where his head was buried between your breasts,

“Mm kiss me Baby…”

You laughed softly and between pecks on his forehead said, “That’s what I’m doin’”

He finally came up, his eyes lidded slightly as he murmured, “I mean really kiss me”, before kissing you with the same lips he just worshiped the skin of your tits with.

You hummed into the kiss with delighted surprise at the hungry tenderness of it all as Elvis’ body backed you completely against the kitchen counter. He felt around blindly for the counter behind you as he refused to break the kiss and then with two gentle pats to the back of your thighs you jumped up just slightly for him to pick you up by the thighs and push you onto the counter.

Elvis’ hands quickly worked the fabric of your dress, tugging it up till it pooled around your waist and as he pulled away from the kiss to look down between the two of you he was left with the sight of your legs, almost completely bare except for your seamed stockings that ended at your thighs and were held up by the garters connected to your panties.

His hands glided along the thin fabric of your stockings along your calves and thighs, he loved how they felt. You couldn’t help your smile as he admired you. When he stepped back he could pull one of your legs up nice and high so that he could see the seams on the back of your stockings that ran up your legs, giving the illusion that you had much longer legs than you really did.

All his focus was on that leg that he had stretched above your head, pointed to the heavens as he stared with admiration. You, his own point of interest, had betrayed him as your other lonely leg that dangled from the counter stretched forward to dig lightly at the bulge beginning to form in Elvis’ black trousers. Elvis’ brows creased and his eyes closed as his mouth opened to let out a low, heavy breath.

“Oh, Mama…”

Elvis’ grip that held your foot high had loosened at the undoing of his usually calm and collective nature within the act. “Mhm?” You took the opportunity and brought your other foot down to join in on the pushes and presses of your feet into the growing bulge.

He only repeated with a breathy, more defeated voice,

“Oh… Mama…”

His head fell back slightly and his legs looked to be going a little slack, knees bending in the slightest as his hips pushed into the pressure of your feet.

It was only when you attempted to dig your foot’s heel into Elvis’ groin did he make a move, spreading your legs apart and pushing his way between them with an eagerness. His hands were quick as he unclipped your garters, followed by the rough yanking of your stockings off your legs. You were thankful you had stabilized yourself onto the counter with your hands otherwise he might’ve yanked you off it right along with your stockings.

You figured you’d help him as you lifted your ass up and began to shimmy your panties off, having to bite your lip to keep back from whining at the cold slap of the counter against your thighs and warmed heat. As Elvis turned to look at you, his mouth was left slightly agape, he could never get used to the image of his wife being all pliant and pretty for him.

The men he used to work with as a young truck driver told him to never get married to a girl he liked, because when women became wives they lost their appeal, they became prudent and too good for casual sex with their husband. Oh how wrong those men were.

“Spread ‘em f’me Hon”

You obeyed as you watched Elvis kneel down, he had enough height on him to where even kneeling down he could easily be face to face with your bare cunt as you sat on the edge of the counter.

From below he made eye contact with you again and murmured,

“Spread those as well Baby”

You let out a breath at his words, feeling a heat spread from your chest up your neck from the embarrassment of where he was referring, but you’d listen. Your hand hesitantly danced down your body before landing at your cunt, and with a soft, wet sound, your pointer and index finger spread the lips of your pussy apart, giving way for Elvis to see the white discharge that was just edging out of your entrance, you had practically sprung a leak down there.

“You’re so pretty Baby…”

He looked up at you to make sure you knew it before steadying himself by gripping the sides of your thighs before pressing his head further between your legs. His aquiline nose ran along your core before anything else, but his tongue and lips were quick to follow as he licked a stripe up the center.

You let out a soft breathy moan at the feeling and tilted your head back to stare at the ceiling, the blank ceiling, boring enough for you to be able to focus entirely on the sensations Elvis was filling your body with.

As his tongue poked and prodded at your entrance you let out a cacophony of back-to-back breaths. As he moved his lips lower, his tongue now scraping along that gap of skin between both your holes, his nose was enveloped entirely by your entrance, and you could feel it inside of you.

Then his fingers on one hand reached toward that little nub of nerves that rested atop your pussy like a pretty bow, and like an expert he could easily undo that bow with the twists and turns of his index and middle finger.

That is what made you squirm and squeak, hushing out a high-pitched,

“Elvis..!”

His answer was a hungry hum which only pushed you even further as the low baritone of his hum reverberated in your pussy. “E-Elvis..!”

Your hands burrowed greedily into his hair as you contradicted yourself, while you made it seem like you wanted him off you, you only pushed his nose further and further into your entrance, you might suffocate him at this point. It was as if his life was in the hands of whether or not he could make you come.

You attempted to drive your hips further into his mouth as he pulled you closer with that hand still gripping your thigh.

As his fingers strummed your clit like the strings to a guitar your breathing got uneven as you felt the incoming of those waves of pleasure that only your very own husband could pull from you.

He groaned loudly into your heat as your grip on his hair became painful to the man bearing it, but he’d continue on till he got you to your release.

“Oh fuck Elvis..! I’m, I’m…”

Your hands entangled in his hair began to drive his head completely home as you let out a guttural moan, the pleased pitch cutting off as you’d reached the peak of your pleasure.

Your entire body felt limp, not even having enough strength in your hands to continue holding onto his hair. Elvis’ head remained tucked away long enough for your dress to fall over onto his head and hide him away as he finally pulled away for air.

You watched with tired eyes as his hands came up to pull the fabric off his head, he had the biggest lazy smile gracing his lips as he looked up at you, and for a moment you had a hard time deciphering whether or not the dampness on his face came from his sweat or your own pleasure, you settled on it being a mix.

“I make ya feel good Honey? Played with Mama just right, hm?”

He slowly stood up and brought the fabric of the dress up with him.

“You always do Elvis,”

He hummed with a smile and brought the wrung up fabric to your mouth with one hand and tugged your chin down with the other, leaving room for him to set the fabric between your lips for you to bite down on.

“Good, now, you’re gonna help Daddy feel good too now right? Gonna sit still f’me right?”

You hummed, “Mhm”, feeling eager to please the man after the trip he just sent you on. Elvis smiled down at you as he watched you hold the fabric between your teeth.

The fumbling of Elvis’ hands undoing his trousers was momentary as he’d become a bit of an expert at undoing his pants in the years you two have been married. You watched with blown out eyes as his dick shot up against his pubes and stomach as it was freed from the confines of Elvis’ pants and underwear.

Your legs were already spread and ready, your hole was already warmed up and loosened, you were his for the taking.

As Elvis took a step forward he tugged you just slightly closer to him before lining his uncut cock along your hole. Then he pushed in. His eyebrows creased from the pain of needing to be patient at this part, trying to find a good balance of needing to be watchful of your expression while wanting to watch as his foreskin begins to prematurely slide back before he’s even completely inside of your warm pussy.

“It’s goin’ in smooth Honey? N-no burn or anythin’ right Baby? I can keep goin’?”

You hummed out a quick, “Mhm”, with an eager nod of your head, and you could see the relief spread along his face at not needing to wait, because to be quite truthful he wasn’t sure he’d be able to.

Elvis kept a hand on his base as he guided the rest in and when he was fully in, his arms wrapped around your waist tightly, practically pulling you off the counter as he wanted to be as close to you as possible while he pressed kisses along your neck.

“Fuck Baby, feel so good,” He groaned softly as he pulled out slightly just to shove his way back in, eliciting a used squeak from you as he did so. “Think that I still haven’t broken ya in properly after bein’ at basic f’so long huh?”

You could only moan softly at his words as you kept the fabric of your dress clenched between your teeth. As he repeated a similar motion he mumbled into the skin of your neck,

“It’s alright Honey, we’ll make more room in there, make more room for a little one or two…”

You wiggled slightly only for his body to press impossibly closer as he spoke through gritted teeth, “Just need ya to sit” he pulled out just to harshly press back in, evoking a whimper from you, “still.”

Elvis’ thrusts became fuller and more drawn out with every second that passed and every moan that left your lips. He was a chatty lover, and while he liked to believe he was talking you through it all, it was really himself he was talking through the motions of sex. He had a strange anxiety when it came to sex that had only shown itself since his takeoff in the entertainment business.

“Gonna fill ya so full of me, gonna leave a piece of myself here to watch over ya Honey,”

Your noises continued to be muffled by the fabric that was becoming soaked in saliva from being kept in your mouth for so long.

The build-up of precum that had been filling your insides made for a wonderful lubricant, even better than your body’s natural one. Elvis’ hips continued to thrust roughly into you. As the speed doubled, even tripled, Elvis’ breaths and voice got raspy.

You were certain he’d bruised your cervix by now, but the desperate rasp of his voice left you as gooey as your insides were.

“Shit, this is it..!”

Elvis buried face into your neck and you felt the heat of his breath sprawl across your skin as he groaned throatily. The animalistic, rhythmic pace of his hips dying down to slow downward grinds. He slurred out as he came down from that peak of pleasure,

“So good… So fucking good…”

Finally as his body came to a rest you spit out the fabric and inhaled as much air as possible through your mouth.

As Elvis geared himself to pull out, your arms wrapped around his neck abruptly as you held him close, mumbling a soft, “Don’t.” as you did so.

Elvis’ body felt stiff for a moment as he asked with hushed concern,

“W-why? Did I hurt ya Hon? You know you’re supposed to tell-”

You stopped his sentence short with a quiet,

“No, you didn’t hurt me. Just, wanna be with you a little longer. You don’t mind do ya?”

Elvis let out a breath of relief to hear that. He’d never want to hurt you. So in that moment of silence he held you close and buried his face into the crook of your neck, letting his nose linger on that pulse point that he watched you apply perfume on every morning for the past 4 years.

And you carded your fingers through his hair, kissing the skin of his head as a form of apology for how rough you were with it earlier.

His voice was like honey, sweet and thick as he assured,

“Of course not. I wanna be with you all the time, otherwise I wouldn't have married ya”

You smiled and remarked into his hair,

"Smartass..."

To which he fondly mumbled,

"Cutie"

This was more a passion piece, just because I really wanted to write something involving those pictures, seriously he's such a dad.

The masterlist will be posted and linked as soon as I get up from my nap! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this au feel free to just comment or message me!!

Taglist Lovelies: @suraemoon, @drtyelvisfantasy, @mydarlingelvis, @astral-eyed-cat, @lialocklear, @obsessedvibee, @sexystarfish, @everythingelvispresley, @thebardotreincarnate, @prettyprissyblvd

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krahk · 29 days

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Blood for Ruin

Part One

Thank you all so much for the love and support for Part One, it is always so scary sharing brain children. You are all amazing.

Part Two

(Or, Alastor Proves he Makes a Shit Hotel Host by Bullying a Murder Victim)

By the time you opened your eyes, you had been moved to a bed, a comfy bed, in a warm lit room that was modestly decorated. And you were alone, thank god. Sitting up on the edge of the bed and kicking the sheets off as you straightened up. You stretched in a vain attempt to bring yourself some comfort, at least in body if not the mind. Doing this however, resulted in an immediate eye opening panic, because the sides of your arms brushing against either side of your head caught onto nothing.

Y’no, nothing. Nothing where ears should be. Looking around frantically, there was a cracked door heading into what was possibly a bathroom- please god, please be a bathroom. You body checked the frame as you ran in, muttering a whiny ‘ow’ before flicking a switch that turned on the overhead lights by the sink. Door open, lights on aaaand yep. Yep, yep yep. Ears missing. Hyperventilating now, you stumbled to the vanity and braced yourself on the ledge, staring into your own reflection as the panic began to set in.

Hell took your ears!? This was fucking ridiculous. Could one bitch to the devil? But also…how…how were you hearing? Because you definitely could hear. In fact you could hear better than before, like the wind outside rattling against something and a creak from the walls possibly 2 rooms over. Your brain might have been empty of explanation but your ears more than made up for it in what you heard. You leaned towards the mirror, turning your head back and forth trying to figure out what had happened to you. Then you felt it, a twitch, a little itch, at the very top of your head. Eyes drifted upwards to the pair of soft brown ears (?) That didn't quite point straight up, instead pointing more in a 45 degree angle. The left one was flicking of its own accord. The scream that left your mouth was instinctual, and loud.

Almost immediately you heard a knocking at the door and Charlie waltzed in, breathing hard, indicating the speed in which she came to your need. You spun around to meet her eyes, hands whipping to the very soft - so soft - ears utop your crown, breath shaking as you tried to get control over yourself.

“Ooohhh, yes, yes you’ve discovered your adorable new features! Thank goodness, I was so worried!” Charlie said, hands waving in front of her before clasping them together on her chest. “Everyone who comes to hell as a sinner takes on a delightful new appearance that reflects the way they lived and died! It’s a great way for you to meet new people and uh…learn to live a better life in spite of them! Many people take on animal appearances, my dad thinks it’s because every soul transcends the image of a human body.”

Still taking large breaths to keep yourself from screaming, your stuttering proof of your inability to form basic words, Charlie continued.

“Angel Dust is a spider, we think because he was involved in a ‘web of crime’ with his exciting mafia family - Husk…well okay Husk is interesting because I’m pretty sure cats in the overworld don’t have wings but he was a gambler before death so maybe he was just lucky to get wings too! You know, cards fell in his favour ha-haaa…” She trailed off awkwardly, face scrunching in a manner that you understood as her realising maybe she wasn’t explaining any part of this new discovery very well. She rubbed the back of her head with one hand, the other one placing itself on her hip. “Alastor is a deer demon, and it looks like you could be one too! I mean, you’ve got similar ears, although yours are much cuter because they are kind of floppy. And your nose is so cute! Like a baby doe! You’re pretty adorable honestly.”

You glanced at the mirror again, hands finally falling to your face to rest on your chin with your fingers covering your mouth lightly, spaced apart to allow your haggard breathing to come in and out. She was right, you did have a cute nose, it was similar to Charlie’s in appearance, and your ears did closely resemble the ears of a hooved forest animal. They reminded you of a mule deer's ears, the only deers you ever saw in Oregon (where your home was). Looking closer at yourself without the same level of panic your eyes moved back and forth rapidly taking in the new details of your person. Your skin all around was a sort of fawn colour, if fawn the colour could look dead. It was as if Bambi had died and his fur turned an ashier colour devoid of the warmth of active blood. That was you! Your ears were a dark blonde peppered with black, complimenting the soft blondish brown of your hair. Fingertips and nails were black, the black creeping up your arms before ending below the sleeve of your short sleeved pyjama top. You looked down and poked your foot out a bit to see if your lower limbs matched and hooray…they did.

In another world, maybe one where this was a costume, you would admit that you were cute out loud. However denial was still the leading emotion so you just slightly nodded at yourself before slowly turning around to face your gracious host once more.

“So. I’m a deer, so that’s a fun new fact…will I stay this way while I’m…here?” You winced at your admission of hell being your new place of residency.

“Yup!” Charlie replied in a chipper voice.

”And if I manage to get to heaven…will I change into something new?”

Charlie paused, the hand that was on her head had shifted to her chin, finger now tapping in pensive thought. “Hmm, I’m not sure? But from what my dad has said, humans who go up to heaven also take on forms that reflect their earthly life. Soooo you would probably stay a deer.”

”How would your dad know? Can we talk to the people in heaven?” This casual conversation was helping hasten the subsiding panic.

“Uh no. Heaven and Hell are pretty much separated all the time, except for the extermination BUT we’re working on that…My dad is Lucifer. Like the archangel!”

Your face was in obvious shock. Jaw dropped lightly and your hands came to your sternum, and you gaped at Charlie with wide eyes. “Lucifer? Like…the Devil? Satan himself?” What the actual fuck, why was your luck so cursed?

Charlie rocked back and forth on her heels, slightly grimacing from your comments before answering. “Yes, my dad is the Devil - but Satan is his own person, lots of people get them confused, much to dad’s chagrin. Lucifer Morningstar is my dad, the Devil, the King of Hell, fallen angel, and Satan is just the Lord of Wrath. It’s all very simple once you’ve been here a while.” Charlie had come to your side and wrapped her arm around your shoulders to walk you out of the bathroom. ”You should really join us downstairs for a proper tour, breakfast was over a while ago but we might be able to find some lunch in case you’re hungry.”

Your stomach rumbled at the thought of food. Was Hell just like Earth, but scarier? And redder? Would you need to get a job? Pay taxes? Oh good god, was Hell was just the worst part of living on monotonous repeat? Brutal. And certainly great punishment.

“We can work on getting you some more personal clothing later, but you are Vaggie look to be around the same size so she’s dropped off a few pieces just to get you in gear for redemption! I should probably go tell the others that you’re fine. I can’t wait for you to join us!” Charlie was so sickly sweet it was crazy to think she was the daughter of the Devil. She was too cheerful for a normal person, never mind a demon. She waved to you and said bye before closing the door as she exited.

Picking up the first couple of pieces in the donated pile, you dressed yourself in a shorter dress with a billowing skirt oh my god you have a tail ignore it ignore it ignore it and thicker grey socks that went all the way up to the middle of your thighs, covering up your black skin meeting up with the length of the dress. The dress was a softer white colour, not as bright as a crisp, new piece, this was a well loved item. No complaints, it was broken in and you were grateful for the gift. The only questionable features were the X’s that were placed directly over the nipples of the top. That was…quite the fashion statement. No time to be picky, something would be better than the pyjamas you died in. No shoes were provided so you simply walked out of the room into the hallway without.

The hallway appeared neverending from both sides, the detailed wallpaper and carpet going for visual miles. Which way was the right way? Good thing you were unconscious when you were brought up here, makes it much easier to retrace your steps. You were grateful for your giant new ears because it seemed like you could follow the sound of chatter down a hall.

Frowning, you let instinct take over and you went to the right. You were passing a door on your left and you felt the hair on your body begin to rise, a staticky sensation passing over your skin. It was a similar feeling to when you would take a giant fleece blanket out of the dryer when it was still warm. You shuddered and made an audible noise of discomfort. Thankfully it appeared that you chose the right path however, since you found yourself at a set of stairs that appeared to curve to the lower floor. You could hear the chatter clearer- “She screamed at the mirror? She’s adorable! She coulda been a worm or a giant slug or-” You shook your head, attempting to ignore the conversation you were accidentally eavesdropping on. A click was heard behind you and you whipped around to face the creature that resulted in your uncomfortable welcome to the hotel in the first place.

Alastor.

Now that he wasn’t talking and simply staring at you, analysing your being, you could really take in his face. Large, red eyes with a frightening depth to them were framed by darker red skin on his lids, his nose somehow sharp but similar to your own, his was more nose-like however. His smile was the worst part though. You were unsure of what could possibly make him smile so wide. His teeth were very large, and clean despite their colour. Strange for a person framed after a prey animal to have such sharp teeth, and you instinctively ran your tongue over your own behind your lips to discover sharper canines only, nothing comparable to the man in front of you.

In the silence his eyes narrowed and focused on you, making his face far more intimidating. Again, an unintentional shiver ran down your back and you shuddered under his gaze. You were a startled deer, caught in his frightening gaze. You were so unsure and uncomfortable with the situation that you had completely missed that he said something to you. You closed your eyes and shook your head to get out of your thoughts.

”Pardon? I’m sorry, I missed what you said there.” You admitted with crossed fingers that he would accept the apology.

”Yes, clearly. I merely asked you if you slept well! You took quite a nasty fall to the floor! Generally people know my history before I can make them faint from fear so I will accept the compliment. It appears as if my sabbatical has had very little effect on my presence.” He bowed slightly in a polite manner, arm crossing over his stomach as he did so, the other arm holding a microphone that was promptly used as a cane once he came up from his polite gesture. You had done a small curtsy in return, awkwardly grabbing the side of the small skirt to fulfil the action. He appeared to nod in acknowledgment, hopefully appreciating the polite return.

Your arms dropped back to your side as you processed what the man had said. Things were only going to continue to confuse you. This was all a nightmare, honestly.

“Now, on to a more serious matter,” He snapped his fingers, and the both of you were in a different room. Two chairs to your left were angled around a small table, the little radio featured on top of it. God damn it that fucking thing again. Farther behind one of the chairs however, the room opened into a bayou swamp environment - dark, marshy and foggy, the eerie sounds coming from it promised danger of an unknown kind. What kind of place was this? You could feel your ears flick from the ambient sounds coming from the strange forest as Alastor continued his interrogation. Walking to the antique, he asked “What were you doing with my radio, my dear?” Gesturing with his free hand to the little machine.

You essentially vomited out the story behind it, where you found it, why you were there, the reason you took it home with you. He listened intently, glancing at it once you finished your very brief history with the item. It truly wasn't a scandalous thing that you pilfered from some ritzy location, you salvaged it from a hoarder's house after it was put there by a woman with an obsession with Antiques Roadshow.

“If it is yours, why did it come here with me? Charlie said that possessions don’t follow souls into hell, but this did?” You inquired, hoping perhaps he held the answer.

Alastor became pensive “Hmmm. It is quite peculiar that it came with you. What were you doing with it? Please do not miss a single detail my dear, I am curious about our situation.

You frowned. What else other than grabbing the cord as you fell back? You listed out your actions on your fingers, reciting out loud the steps you took before your death. When you landed on the finger you paired with ‘took the back panel off-‘ he shouted a sharp ha-Hah! Confused and with a frown you continued, ending with cutting your hand on it before putting everything back together and heading to bed. Well, then dying. The actual ending.

“Are you sure that was all you did? Do not leave a single detail out, or you might regret it.” A sound attune with a record scratch sound from nowhere as you stared at the demon. Took radio home, took radio apart, bled on the radio, cleaned blood off the radio - your eyes went wide. And you silently checked off a step you missed in your story. You had cleaned blood off the symbols in the radio, the ones that looked like they themselves had been written in blood. Alastors gaze sharpened at your realisation.

“On the panel, inside the radio…” You started, “There were these symbols inside of it, I didn’t really get a good look at them before cutting my hand open,” You absentmindedly looked at your palm only to see a bright white scar where the long cut once was. Already? A Scar in hell? Alastor had stalked towards you and grabbed your hand to look at it. The air around the two of you was suffocating. It was difficult to think straight with him in front of you. And you were suddenly hyper aware of yourself, and him. Holding your hand was almost too much to handle and you tried to pull it back only for him to grip harder, nails pressing into your hand painfully. He raised his other hand palm up and held it beside yours. A matching scar was present. He frowned, though his smile was still prominent.

Dropping your hand he returned to the radio and black shadow tendrils rose from the floor and grabbed it, taking pieces off and placing the back panel of it in his hands. In silence he looked at the mess before entering into a low laugh, one that increased with each breath before he was near hysteria. His figure increased in size, antlers growing in size from his head, limbs lengthening - he swung his head to face yours as his figure started to loom over yours.

“Well my dear, we seem to have a problem” he said in a strange, distorted voice, his figure still looming. “You have compromised some old runes within my radio…it could possibly explain how you ended up here, with us, looking as you do.” Halfway through his terrifying statement he had returned to his ‘normal’ form and fluffed out the lapel of his coat as he did so. Eyes returning to yours the room became darker, and green symbols similar to the ones in the radio appeared on the floor, some appearing to raise up and float around the two of you.

“You will not mention any part of this radio or what you know of it, including where it was found or how you came into possession with it. You will not let others know of how your scar came on your person, and you certainly will not mention any of the runes you saw.” He wasn’t making a request, he was clearly demanding it. It felt as if wind was billowing his hair and coat as his eyes took on a much brighter look. ”If you do, I promise you will regret having ever come here and I will devour your soul only after a long and painful torture, am I clear?” You nodded in acknowledgement, knowing that the only reason you had not thrown up yet was the complete lack of food in your system, though the bile was resting at the back of your throat from fear.

He raised his hand to yours in a handshake motion, beckoning you with the outreached hand to join yours with his. You grabbed his hand with your own, both scars meeting in the middle, and they began to glow before he said only one word - “Deal?”

Well really, was there any other option? You nodded before he tsk-tsked your action, “I need vocal consent my dear, it is required.” The last word turning dark with static.

“Deal.” You barked out, and as soon as you responded, the room reverted back to its original state immediately. Alastor took his hand back and wiped it on the opposite sleeve. ”Excellent. You may leave now, the stairs will direct you right into the lobby. Please tell Ms. Morningstar that my afternoon has changed and I am unable to join her.” The door swung open on its own accord and black tangible tendrils of shadow had all but shoved you across the room and out the door before slamming the door shut so hard you swore the wood splintered slightly.

You paused to catch your breath, staring at the door, which you now knew led to Alastors Room. On the other side you could tell he must have been pacing back and forth, his heels clacking on the hard floors as he did so. Soon after however, it sounded as if a wild animal was throwing furniture and ripping fabric, loud screaming as it did so. Not about to stick around, you sprinted to the stairs and nearly slipped from the lack of shoes trying to place distance between you and the Demon upstairs. You kept up the pace on the main floor until you ran past an open door and caught sight of Charlie sitting on a sofa. You entered the room, out of breath and slightly sweaty from the encounter upstairs. She waved excitedly before patting the open seat beside her for you to sit as she held up an apple in her other hand. You sat, accepted the apple and took a bite before looking at the Television and promptly choking as you watched a news anchor discuss something called an ‘Extermination’, didn’t Charlie mention that upstairs?

Thankfully, once things had settled down in your head, you found yourself swept up in trust exercises, oh goody. Thankfully this spiralled into chaos and you were glad everyone had simply accepted your presence without hesitation, there were far more exciting things happening. It was especially comforting that Alastor would be keeping his promise and leaving on an outing for the day.

****

I will add here, this will be a semi-slow burn. Alastor is aroace pre-reader, but with time things change. Time, magic, and forced proximity.

#alastor smut #Alastor Hazbin #Alastor x reader #Alastor slow burn #Alastor Hazbin Hotel #Alastor x OFC #Hazbin Hotel #alastorxreader #alastor x you

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thesassypadawan · 2 months

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Behave *part 1* (Burnt Darth Vader x FemPetReader)

Summary: All Lord Vader demanded of you was to behave. Which you’re happily obeying until a certain someone decides to use the force on you. Better not act up, unless you wish to anger him.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all the lovely smut. Somewhat public fingerplay, misuse of the force, Dom Lord, Sub Reader…and Vader’s magical force fingers.

Note: Hope you lovelies also enjoy Breed *part 2*! ❤️

- “Behave yourself, pet, and perhaps I will reward you.”

- Lord Vader’s demand was simple, one that you are happily obeying as you sit by his side. On the floor, next to the throne. Arms draping over one of his long legs, your head resting atop his muscular thigh.

- You’ve lost count of the number of people who have come and gone. Paying little attention to them and the words they spoke. Only focusing on your lord’s warmth beneath you, his gloved fingers absent-mindedly running through your hair.

- Just as you begin to drift off to the sound of his rhythmic breathing, you feel invisible fingers trailing down your sides. A phantom hand cupping and squeezing your ass firmly. Causing you to jolt slightly, holding back the urge to gasp.

- You stifle the small moan wanting to escape as they brush against your bare cunt. Breath hitching when the sensation rubs back and forth. Slick gathering between your legs. So grateful for your somewhat concealing loincloth.

- Tilting your head, you steal a glance at Vader. His masked face remains set forward while they ghost over your now throbbing clit. Your hips shifting awkwardly.

- ‘What is it, pet?’ His deep voice fills your head, a note of dark amusement in his tone. ‘I sense that you are uncomfortable.’

- At his words, you feel the invisible fingers slip into your needy pussy. Steadily pumping, forcing you to bite your lip harshly.

- ‘Are you misbehaving?’ He mocks, curling them within your depths. Hitting you in that wonderful spot again and again.

- Weakly you shake your head in response. Your mind grows fuzzy, the pleasure consuming you more. As he uses the force to toy with your clit, to seemingly add another into your already overly stretched cunt.

- Leaning heavily against him, you bury your face into his thigh. Tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, your nails digging into his flesh. Trying desperately to time your mewls with his mechanical breaths. Praying the sound would help cover them.

- A large, real, hand comes to rest on the small of your back. Drawing soothing circles on your skin. ‘Clever girl.’

- The coil in your stomach is unbearably tight. The waves of ecstasy threaten to crash over you. You’re holding strong, but just barely.

- ‘But not quite enough.’ A growl echoes throughout your mind, followed by what felt like teeth grazing your sensitive nub.

- You can no longer fight it. Electricity shoots down your spine. Blinding heat engulfs your entire body. Your tiny voice finally cries out in pure, raw bliss. You’ve come completely undone.

- The realization of it all sets in and the hot tears now flow freely. You misbehaved; you went against your lord’s demand.

- Aside from his steady breathing, the room fell painfully silent. Broken only when his low voice rumbles out a dismissal to whomever he was speaking with. “That will be all.”

- Too frightened to even move. Your mind fills with dozens of dreadful thoughts of what will happen next…of how he will punish you.

- A phantom hand wraps loosely around your neck, squeezing your throat surprisingly gently. “Pet,” he says coldly. “I wish to speak with you in my chambers…immediately.”

- Rising from his throne, you follow suite. The same phantom hand pulling you to your unsteady feet. “Yes, my lord,” you whimper, trying to regain some balance.

- “We have much to discuss.”

- Without another word, he marches off. You wobbling after, head down as always. A very evident wet spot left glistening on the floor where you had obediently sat.

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lovekipani · 3 months

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Part 2 - Alastor Smut - Alastor's Perspective

Alastor Fucks You Part 2 - Alternate Perspective

If you haven't read the reader's POV of this, you can do so here.

My partner and I collaborated on this story from Alastor's perspective to mirror my previous version written from the reader's perspective. So if you are curious what was going on in Alastor's mind when he was fucking, here's our one-shot of just what that might be. Enjoy.

Plot: Alastor wants you... bad. But not just as a one-night stand. He wants to make a deal to keep you as his personal toy. And the kicker is...you want it just as bad.

It’s 2 am, and I’m hungry for restless, mortal souls that struggle to sleep. Souls that are particularly…vulnerable…to what I have to offer.

But, I rarely get to venture into the living world these days…where TV and digital technology have taken over (fuck you Vox), weakening my access to souls – a link dependent on powers of old…the power of voice. The power of frequency. Instead, I roam Hell, claiming souls in bondage in exchange for what I can offer them…what they need and crave.

Since I expired and ended up here, in hell 90 years ago, I have been known by many names, but legend knows me as Alastor. The Radio Demon.

It seems like it’s going to be just another night in Hell. I sit in my den, dimly lit with the soft glow of demon fire, the sound of 20s jazz crackling in the background as I raise my glass of whiskey to my lips…the cold thick liquor burning as it slides down my throat.

I am tense and restless. It’s nothing new. As much as I lord over the souls in Hell, nothing down here can satiate my hunger…my shadow’s hunger…for the flesh of a mortal soul, and it has been too long since I have had my fill. My power, invisible yet pervasive, emanates like waves. But like water crashing against a dam, my powers are confined within the walls of Hell unless the perfect, damned soul tunes in.

I drift off in my thoughts. Maybe I’ll go over to Charlie’s hotel and fuck with Husk. Grouchy old fuck is so easy to rile up, and he’s the best bartender in town. I straighten my red pinstriped jacket, and fix my red and black hair – after all, a gentleman, even a Demonic one, must not be seen in public unkempt.

I open the door to step out, when suddenly I feel a shift in the air. Something I have not felt for so long, yet so unmistakably familiar. The shadows in me stir, knowing that this could mean. My stag ears straighten, scanning the airwaves. I don’t so much see her, but sense her – a sensation at once faint, but all the while so vivid that it paints a picture in my mind. I close my eyes as I feel a grin spread across my face, baring my razor sharp teeth. The tentacles of my shadow rippling under the silk fabric of my jacket. They are hungry.

I see her now, still faintly, standing alone in her dark apartment, leaning against a side table with a cold drink in one hand, her other hand fiddling with the dial on an old wooden radio – most likely a family heirloom. Her grandmother’s, maybe. I can see her frustration as she turns the dial back and forth, trying to find the right frequency.

She is a vision. Thick long blonde hair that reaches the top of a perfect ass held in low rise jeans that fit just right. The low cut V-neck tee hugging her hour-glass figure, barely containing her breasts. But there is more to her than her looks…something deeper inside. Sure, it takes a damned soul to connect with me, but there is something more. Something darker. A hidden truth. Something deliciously sinful.

Finally, she finds the frequency, my frequency. She visibly relaxes and closes her eyes as she listen to the old 20s sounds. Little does she know that she has just sealed her own fate.

“Good girl,” I whisper.

My entire body vibrates as the old radio connects with my energy, and the vision becomes clearer, and the portal, invisible to mortal eyes, that has been closed to me for so long finally opens.

I straighten my body, holding one hand against the small of my back, the other holding my staff, topped with an old radio microphone. I draw in a deep breath. I can practically smell her perfume – a familiar scent from a French fashion house – mixed with the sweetness of her skin.

I gather myself, holding my shadow in check. “Patience, Alastor,” I say to myself.

Taking one last deep breath, pulling my shoulders back and letting my frame take on its full size, I concentrate my thoughts and my powers for my long-awaited return to broadcast radio.

“It’s show time,” I mutter to myself, an evil grin spreading across my face, knowing what is to come. My body tensing, I project my energy, my thoughts, and my voice through the air, and right into her ear.

I slip into the shadows. A Demon watching his prey.

“It’s my pleasure to introduce you…"

Alllaasstor... I breathe into her ear.

I watch as her eyes snap open and she looks frantically around the room, trying to locate the source of my unexpected voice. I chuckle again…I fucking love this part. I can see her body tense with confusion.

Strange…usually what I see is fear.

I hear her whisper under her breath…”Alastor.” I watch as she leans back, taking another sip of her drink, trying to relax.

Who is this woman? It’s time that I find out.

With a simple thought, the lights flicker, and I watch with sadistic glee as her eyes widen and her body straightens. “What the fuck was that?” she says out loud to herself.

Another simple thought, and I plunge the room into darkness. I watch her in darkness, and her confusion brings on an arousal that I have long missed. I can feel my cock harden in my tailored pants, growing and aching for what is to come.

“Lets have some fun,” I say to myself, as I turn the room a sinister, crimson red. I watch as she closes her eyes, visibly shaking her head, trying to wake herself from what she believes to be a dream.

I step out of the shadow and stand directly in front of her as she opens her eyes, my eyes menacing and fixed on hers as I grin wide and bare my razor-sharp teeth.

Her body stiffens with fear as a growl rumbles in my throat, that primal hunger growing. I can feel her fear and I feed off it, my frame growing as I tower over her, my cock hardening into a steel rod as a sensual gasp escapes her soft lips. Her face flushes red and my heightened senses smell not fear…but desire. Her whole body emanates the scent of a woman in heat.

I release my shadow that I have held in check. The tentacles of my inner monster reaches out, wrapping themselves around her ankles and snaking up her legs and thighs, around her waist, gripping and squeezing her tits through her clothes, and wrapping around her throat as I lift her into the air. I pull her head back, exposing her neck as I step closer, my prey held in mid air.

I step forward, pressing her back against the counter, and lean my face close against her neck, taking her scent in like a feral beast. I bring my face close against hers, not touching, but close enough for her to feel my heat, as I growl into her ear, “mmm…you smell delicious.”

My shadow pulls her back further, arching her back to expose her breasts to me. I can feel her heat and wetness as my shadowy tendrils, like phantom hands, press and explore between her legs. Instead of recoiling in fear like many have in the distant past, her hips roll and seek me out.

Yes…that’s the deep, dark truth that I sensed earlier. This dark, sex-crazed soul that I will both set free, and claim as my own fuck toy.

As my demonic shadow holds her aloft, I grip her hip with one hand, my claws digging into her soft flesh, while the other runs down her cheek. I love the feeling of her body under my claws... so sensitive, soft...vulnerable. My shadow spreads her legs as I pull her hard against me, the shaft of my hard cock pressing against her slit through her jeans. I can feel the moist heat burning through her jeans.

I lean forward, the tip of my tongue licking softly from her collarbone up to her ear. “What a darling specimen you are, my dear,” I purr into her ear as I grind against her cunt, my cock desperate for release.

I press my weight over her, the underside of my shaft covering her slit, with the tip of my cock against her naval. I watch her face flush and contort with desperate desire and lock my eyes with hers.

“Allasstor…” she breathes hotly. I set my demonic desires free as I tighten my hold on her body.

“You have such a lovely voice…maybe I should broadcast your screams tonight for all of hell to hear while I fuck that needy little cunt,” I growl as my shadowy hand grips her hot pussy through her jeans, pressing hard against her clit. I feel her tense and whimper, and I tighten my grip on her tits, my shadow splitting into thin fingers, slipping inside the collar of her t-shirt and inside her bra, teasing her nipples, rolling them into hardness.

“Or maybe it’s your screams they’ll hear, Radio Demon?” she moans into my ear as I claim her body.

“Oooo, I love that demonic little mouth of yours. I’d like it even more if it were wrapped around my cock. Or maybe I’ll just bend you over this counter and fuck that delightful little pussy instead?” I growl as grip and massage her ass. As much as I want to fuck this cock-sucking slut’s throat, my shaft longs to be buried inside her cunt, and to fill her to the brim.

I flip her over with ease, her tits pressed against the countertop as I press my cock against her ass. I wonder what her tight little asshole would feel like? I press my chest against her back, and I feel her hand slide back, reaching to free my cock.

“Be careful, girl. I’m the monster you were warned about.”

“You’re the monster I want,” she moaned back.

With one hand holding her down by the back of her neck, I rip her jeans and panties off in one violent motion, leaving them in tatters on the ground. I can smell her cunt, and can see her pussy dripping with desire. I flip her onto her back, my claws gripping the collar of her t-shirt as I tear her t-shirt and bra in two, her tits spilling out, topped with perfect, hard nipples.

I lick my lips, as I command my shadow to tease her cunt, the tendrils stroke lightly up and down her pussy lips, gently prying them open, exploring every wet fold, learning the contours of what I am about to devour.

“Perfect…”, I growl deep as I begin to devour my little demon whore. My mouth starting at her neck, tasting her skin and biting, marking her. My clawed hands paw her breasts, squeezing them hard until she whimpers in delicious pain, my clawed fingers pinching her nipples as I twist and pull at them. My hands grip her thighs and spread them wide as I kiss down her abdomen, down her mound and breathe in her cunt, my fingers spreading her pussy lips and exposing her swollen, needy clit as my tongue lashes the sensitive bud, licking the length of her slit as my shadowy fingers teased and rimmed her tight asshole. I suck hard on her clit and feel her press her pussy into my mouth, a loud moan filling the room.

I rise from between her legs as I watch her breathe heavily, her eyes heavy-lidded, pleading for more. I rip my shirt off and hold her gaze as I unbuckle my pants, and I watch with pleasure and satisfaction as I watch her gaze drop between my legs as my demon cock springs free, thick-veined and ridged, dripping and glistening with precum. I slide the length of my cock up slowly her slit, starting at the junction between her cunt and her anus, making sure she feels and acknowledge every inch that is about to fill her.

“Let’s give the listeners a show they’ll never forget…” the little slut purrs as she grinds her pussy against my shaft.

Pushing her ankles above her head, I slam into her in a single deep stroke, my pelvic bone crashing against her clit that makes her groan in both pain and pleasure. I can feel her cunt stretch to accommodate me while drenching me in her juices that run down my balls. There is no elegance or tenderness, just a demonic beast claiming his prize as I drive my full length into her over and over, pulling back until just the tip of my cock is inside her before I slam fully back into her, and grinding my pelvis against her clit.

“Al…Alastor…of fuuuckk…” she moans and whimpers as I claim her sweet little cunt.

I pin her hands above her head as my body keeps her legs folded up above her head, as I fuck her relentlessly, watching her face as her eyes roll back with pleasure, and moans turn into whimpers.

I can feel her pussy clenching and tightening around my cock, massaging me inside her. I remain inside her and enjoy her ministrations, as I whisper into her ear.

“That’s a good girl…I know what you are. Now enjoy getting fucked in ways you have only dreamed of…”

I feel her cunt tighten and gush with wetness in response, as though she has been awaiting permission for her true self to be liberated. I slide one hand under her ass, running a finger between her ass-cheeks, feeling her cream dripping over her asshole, as I tickle it with the tip of my clawed finger.

“Yess…such a perfect little demon whore…such a needy little cunt…You’re mine. All mine…” I growled.

“Yes…I am yours…” she gasps as her orgasm builds. I watch her face as I continue to fuck her, as she fades from the world, sinking deeper into a world of pure pleasure and ecstasy.

I can feel her pussy swelling and getting tighter as she nears her climax. Her orgasm will be my claiming of her soul.

“Is it a deal?” I ask as I seek her complete submission. My cock swells in anticipation, filling her and stretching her even further.

“Yes! Yes! Alastor!!! Yes!!!” she screams as her body is wracked by a seemingly endless orgasm, relinquishing all control to me, as her cum gushes like a fountain, soaking my thighs and leaving puddles on the floor.

Her submission triggers my release, as I growl deep and bury myself deep inside her, my balls tightening, and my cock pumping thick seed deep into her hungry, eager pussy, filling her. My cum spills out as I slide out my still-twitching cock. Needing to empty myself completely, I stroke my cock as she watches me, and finish over her body, covering her belly and breasts, howling into the night.

As I catch my breath, and slowly release my grip on my newly claimed prize, I see that she has slipped into a deep sleep. My mark glowed a faint red on her mound…the mark of the Radio Demon.

I wrap my arms tight around my prize’s exhausted body, as I summon my shadow. Darkness falls around us and in a moment, we are back in hell, in my office.

I sit in my velvet armchair and watch her as she sleeps in my dimly lit room. My eyes glide over her naked form, watching her breasts swell with each breath. I can feel my arousal returning again, my cock starting to rise.

For how long she slept, I don’t know. Time has no meaning in Hell. Afterall, Hell is forever. At last she stirs, and opens her eyes, and I see her blink away the sleep, and watch her gaze drop from my face, down my body, to the erect cock that has been waiting for her.

“Welcome to Hell, Darling. Your deal starts now, and my listeners will want more,” I say with a smile as I approach her. She rolls onto her back, opens her legs, and wraps her ankles around my waist, pulling me down against her. Her tongue searches out my mouth, and my tongue dances with hers, tasting her.

“Best not to disappoint them then,” she moaned as I sink deep into her.

Want more?

Check out the Master List here.

#blurbs #blurb #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel smut #alastor smut #hazbin hotel x reader smut

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welcometomyoasis · 4 months

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Seventeen as life's comforting moments

Synopsis: what comforting moments the seventeen members remind me of no pairing | fluff, comfort | approx. 2.4k words | warnings: mental heath, insecurities A/n: because svt brought me so much comfort this past year, here's a little headcanon. i'm wishing everyone a good year ahead ❤️

🍒 Seungcheol - spending quality time with people you care about

Seungcheol is the type of person who really treasures those who care close to him. He shows his appreciation to them in different ways by giving them gifts, like Jeonghan’s Dyson airwrap, or telling them how much he cares for them. But I feel like one major way he shows his love and appreciation is just to spend quality time with them. They don’t have to be doing something fun. They don’t even need to be engaged in some deep, emotional conversation. The time spent together could simply be a quiet day at home spent in comfortable silence. It’s all about spending time in each other’s presence and taking that in. Time is precious. Especially amid the hustle and bustle of life, being able to carve out time shows just how much the other person means to you. It means that they are a priority in your life, and vice versa. Seungcheol encapsulates those moments of love.

😇 Jeonghan - watching the sunset

Perhaps this is me projecting because Jeonghan is one of my comfort people? One of my favourite quotes is “Even the darkest night will end, and the sun will rise again” from Les Miserables. I know the quote is more of a sunrise, but to me, sunsets signal the end of a hard day. You haven’t exactly gotten over the intense emotions yet, everything still feels very raw. All the emotions like anxiety or sadness washes over you. But as you see the sunset, you just know that at least for now, the day is over. There’s a certain peace of mind that comes with that thought, and I would view Jeonghan as that. He’s such a silent pillar of support for the members. They can go to him with any problems and he will gladly lend a listening ear. Sure, the problems might remain and the emotions are heightened, but Jeonghan’s presence, empathy and willingness to listen would provide so much comfort for his members. Not unlike the feelings that come with watching the sunset, Jeonghan is that moment of emotional reprieve.

🦌 Joshua - spending time by the ocean

Joshua represents the feelings you get when you’re by the ocean. Joshua is a fun loving guy, and playing by the ocean is certainly fun. You can play in the sand, build sandcastles, have a picnic, and you can run into the ocean only to laugh and run away when the tide comes rushing over your feet. At the heart of it all, Joshua embodies everything that is gentle. He’s like the soft breeze brushing against your face, the sounds of the tide slowly cascading onto the beach. He’s the happiness and peace that washes over you as you dip yourself into the ocean and let the waves slowly rock you back and forth. Best of all, he’s that feeling of serenity you get from just breathing in the salty ocean air as you look out onto the vast horizon. When you look out at the picturesque view, Joshua is that moment of serenity that comes to soothe your aching body and soul.

🐱 Junhui - snuggling under a blanket to take a nap

Junhui has a certain air of innocence around him, something I would associate with the innocence of childhood. The feeling of curiosity that made you want to grow up. It’s just that when you do, that innocence goes away. You become tired and drained from being busy all the time and having way too many responsibilities. At least when it gets too much, you can take a nap right? It’s a luxury. But there’s just something nostalgic about being able to tuck yourself under a blanket to take a nap. Feeling the weight of the blanket, letting the warmth completely envelop you as you slowly drift off. It’s not that you feel childish from taking a nap, nor is it childish in the first place for wanting to take a rest. It’s about that nostalgic feeling that makes you long for the time when you were younger and hadn’t dealt with what life had thrown at you. Napping makes you feel like an innocent kid again within your own little bubble away from the harshness of life. In that sense, Junhui represents the moments that heal your inner child.

🐯 Hoshi - feeling passionate or excited about something

If there is one thing about Hoshi, you can never doubt the amount of passion he has. It doesn’t matter what that passion is directed at, he never seems to run out of it. Be it his passion for dancing, his members, tigers or even his passion for throwing Mingyu under the bus during the mafia game. I also wouldn’t say that it’s simply when you allow yourself to get caught up in the moment. Passion is more complex than that. Feeling passionate about something, someone. It’s a feeling that excites you and it’s that feeling drives you forward to pursue whatever and whoever it is that is at the center of it. It doesn’t just make you feel alive, it makes you feel that life is worth living. It allows you to turn that passion into determination, strength to push forward even if you encounter any hardship. Honestly I don’t know what else to write because to me, Hoshi represents the moments when you allow your emotions to take over completely, when you allow your emotions to guide you forward.

🐈‍⬛ Wonwoo - solo dates

We all know that Wonwoo is extremely reserved, he is an introvert who does enjoy spending time alone. Sure he loves his members, but he definitely needs time alone to recharge. Wonwoo reminds me of solo dates. When you just take yourself out. You could be engaging in your hobbies like photography. But it’s not only about that. It’s about really treating yourself to things and experiences that you enjoy. You can’t put a price on the relaxation and peace that going on solo dates brings. Of course you don’t have to spend money on your solo date either. Your solo date could be at the new restaurant you wanted to try, or at the old restaurant you are a regular at. Maybe it could be at the beach or park. You could even indulge a little and try the expensive spa treatment, or you could get the $3 McDonalds McFlurry. Ultimately, you’re doing what you want to indulge yourself. I see Wonwoo really enjoying that, so I would think that Wonwoo represents the moments when you exercise self-love and self-care.

🍚 Woozi - time spent creating

Woozi has done and created so much for seventeen. The sheer amount of creative energy that this man has is indescribable. As such, I would see Woozi as the time you can spend creating. There are no boundaries or rules for being creative. You can literally do what you want. You want to paint a picture of a cute cat, do photography, paint your nails, write a seventeen act play. Go right ahead. Sadly, no matter how inspired you are, sometimes insecurities get to you. It holds you back from creating because you don’t think it will be good enough. My question is good enough for who? It’s your work and others’ opinions should not, and do not matter. You should be proud of what you can create. Woozi would certainly share that sentiment. Because of that, I strongly stand by the opinion that Woozi would be the moment you are able to let go of your insecurities or inhibitions to create something that would definitely mean a lot to you.

⚔️ Dokyeom - genuinely laughing

I don’t just mean letting out a haha laugh or writing an lol that we often do with a relatively straight face. I’m talking about laughter that comes from our bellies. The type that makes you tear from spending so much energy being hunched over and clutching yourself. The type that physically sheds all the tension from your body. Dokyeom reminds me of that. His laughter is contagious. His smile and energy is bright. He’s not afraid to laugh or be playful. He’s naturally funny and his cheeky antics bring so much joy and laughter to us and the rest of seventeen. Dokyeom represents that ability to lose yourself in a moment of laughing at something or someone that you find hilarious. He represents the feeling of being able to just feel something other than all the complex, possibly negative emotions in life. Dokyeom is the moment when you feel alive.

🐸 Minghao - taking a walk through a trail in a forested area

Being able to walk through a trail in a forested area is a much needed change of scenery from the stifling, chaotic cities that we live in. Minghao gives off the feeling of emotional and mental stability, something I would associate with the tranquillity of nature. Walking down a path amongst all the trees, feeling the warmth of the sunshine hit my face. Yet feeling the coolness that comes with the shade of the trees. It’s sad that we often forget how beautiful nature is, that we forget how we should appreciate and experience nature. In the same way that Minghao would close his eyes when he meditates, closing our eyes when we are surrounded by nature will help you to feel at peace with yourself and your surroundings. Listening to the sounds of the animals like the cicadas or birds, taking in the scent of pine trees or flowers. It’s not about being one with nature, it’s more about being present. Minghao is certainly that moment of learning how to be present, and more importantly, how to feel present within your surroundings.

🐶 Mingyu - waking up early in the morning

Not everyone is a morning person I get it. Somehow Mingyu makes me think that he’s an early riser, someone who would like to get a head start to the day. I would think of him as this time in the morning just after the sun has risen that is calm and quiet. It’s the time before the city or wherever you are gets busy. The sun casts its rays into your house, giving it the most beautiful illuminated glow. It makes your otherwise normal house look ethereal. Especially if you have the day off, that time of the day is also perfect because you get to prepare yourself for the day without the pressure of having to be prepared for anything specific. You can afford to take your time and just go around your house. You can make your breakfast, do your skincare routine, choose an outfit for the day. Or, you could just sit with a cup of coffee, tea, or whatever drink you prefer and chill out on the couch. Having that time to yourself is precious and it gives you time to prepare yourself mentally for the day. Perhaps you even anticipate getting out there. Mingyu is definitely that moment, the moment where you feel ready to take on the day no matter what it throws at you.

🍊 Seungkwan - listening to heavy rainfall

The sound of rain falling is soothing. The rhythmic way that it drips and splashes onto your window or the ground. Hearing the pitter patter of the rain drops while you’re inside does something to you. Perhaps it’s the melancholic feeling that the grey sky makes you feel, or perhaps it is the heavy water droplets that fall harshly to the ground. Whatever it is, it has a soothing effect, making you feel instantly calmer. It heals you. Similarly, Seungkwan has the most beautiful, soothing voice. His voice is soft, melodic. He knows how and when to regulate the tone and strength of his voice. He has the talent and ability to put different emotions into the song when it’s needed. When you hear him sing, you can’t help but give up control over your emotions. Your mood automatically shifts according to the emotions he delivers through the songs. Like the sound of the rain, listening to him relaxes you. Seungkwan is the moment you allow your heart and mind to rest.

🐻‍❄️ Vernon - engaging in your hobbies

There are people who are quirky in the best way possible. That’s Vernon. He’s so unabashedly Vernon? The fandom jokes he’s like an alien. He likes food combinations that most people would think are weird. He wears clothes which look like they don’t match but are actually pieces from designer collections. I link this with engaging in your hobbies because everyone has different hobbies. And sometimes our hobbies would be considered weird. But it’s what we enjoy doing. It’s not about finding validation from other people, it’s about being able to be in our own little bubbles to do what we want. It’s our safe place. We engage in our hobbies not only because we think it’s fun, but it’s also an escape from life. Our hobbies, as weird as they are to others, bring us contentment and fulfilment. Everyone is weird that way, right? I would like to think that Vernon therefore represents the moments of happiness that comes with indulging in activities you enjoy.

🦦 Chan - accomplishing little things

Honestly, I struggled thinking of what to write for Chan. Similar to Hoshi, Chan is passionate, and similar to Woozi, Chan is creative. He’s capable of so much and he always excels at what he does. That’s why I would see Chan as the times when you are able to accomplish something. In life, there are so many expectations. We’re expected to do so many things at the same time, and we’re expected to do it well. If you can’t juggle the tasks, you’re deemed to be inefficient, incompetent. That kind of mindset really wears you down. It makes you feel like you’re not good enough when most of the time, you’re just worn down and stretched too thin. Instead, we should celebrate all of our achievements no matter how big or small it is. It reminds us that we aren’t as broken or useless as we think we are because we can do it. We can achieve things, which is why Chan’s ability to excel makes me believe that Chan is that moment when you manage to accomplish something. He’s that moment that you realise that you are definitely capable of more than you think.

taglist: @weird-bookworm @wonijinjin @babyleostuff @wishing-fieshes @kwanienies @mayashu @megseungmin @porridgesblog @haecien @mirxzii @scoupsofcherries @eightlightstar

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guyfieriii · 11 months

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Get Us Strung

We're back to our regularly scheduled programming with another angst-y piece. Inspired by the song Dirty Love by Mt. Joy comes the tale of John Price and his best friend. My apologies if it seems a bit disconnected, it was originally much larger but I decided to scrap a lot of it (See? I can be nice sometimes.), but I tried my best. Also, this was edited on pure audaciousness, a bottle of wine, and a pitcher of margaritas. Do with that what you will.

Lastly, the biggest thank you to @mvtthewmurdvck for once again tolerating me bombarding her with snippets galore and supporting me as she always does.

(Can we consider this as a somewhat happy ending? My original one was A LOT worse.)

Pairing: John Price x f!Reader Warnings: Explicit Sexual Scenes and a gallon of pain :)

Nostalgia is a cruel consonance of sentimentality and longing. A honeyed trap you could easily get caught in if you aren’t careful.

You weren’t.

All it took was one precarious step forth into its birdlime confines and you’re stuck, forever adhered to moments gone by. Try as you might to break free, to rid yourself of the persistent fog that looms and live in the present — you’re simply unable. The struggle of it brands ropes into your skin. A chemical burn that scabs eventually, but it leaves you debilitated of every ounce of strength you have to leave.

With time, you make do.

You adjust to the circumstances you’ve found yourself in. It’s easy enough — to simply give in. It’s like the call of a warm bed on a cold winter morning. The arms of a man you love held open in an invitation. It’s the perfect balm to your stinging disappointments and embittered thoughts.

Witness, reminisce — rinse and repeat.

A moment here. An admission of love there, just not the right kind. Not enough to keep you satisfied, just enough you keep you—

There. Still. Stuck in time. Recycling the same out-of-date echoes through your trench of despondency till they fossilize.

It’s his eyes that do you in, really. Lapis set in moonstone white reminding you of the ebb and flow of deep ocean currents that gently coax you inwards to drift among the waves.

They were the first thing you noticed about him.

A skinny kneed boy of eleven, head full of bistre-brown hair, and the bluest eyes you ever saw that suddenly wanted to be your friend. He was loud and brutish in contrast with your more reluctant and constrained demeanour and yet—

He was your best friend. Your first. Your only.

Is your best friend.

Five years later, he left to join the infantry.

He departed, eager to prove his worth. While you stayed back with a poor facsimile of a supportive smile as he promised his eventual return.

I’ll be back on leave before you know it.

But—

I’ll be back.

And I’ll be here.

You clung to him when he told you he was enlisting, fingers curling into the sleeves his Fleetwood Mac t-shirt — a gift from you for his fifteenth. He’d asked if you wanted to keep it, as a reminder of him.

Wouldn’t need to if you just stayed, Johnny.

In the fortnight leading up to his departure, you prayed for a last-minute change of his mind. Maybe the realization that he couldn’t stay without you would finally come to the surface.

It had to. Eventually.

You couldn’t bear the thought of walking up the morning after he left, just missing a part of you. Feeling a crater right in the middle of your chest grow wider and deeper as the distance between you and him extended.

But as the days counted down, his excitement grew nearly as fast as your despair.

It began with you pulling out all the stops, reminding him of the comforts of home, of you. To him, it was only the perfect gift farewell.

It wasn’t until just the day before that you decided to take the cheap shot and just beg.

Don’t leave. Just— please just stay, okay? You don’t have to go. You don’t have to leave me— please, Johnny. I can’t—

He stood at an arm’s length and listened to you in silence, watched you scrounge every ounce of emotional ammunition you could, until your voice ran hoarse, and your tears ran dry.

The pained expression that your outburst gradually chiseled onto his face left you shamelessly hopeful, and you took a step forward to close the distance between you and him.

He wordlessly took a step back.

The time slowed, and the seconds hemorrhaged until he finally spoke.

All he responded with was—

I have to.

You saw him standing out on my pavement by your house the next morning, walking across the same yard over and over. He’d glance upward at your window every now and then in such excruciating hope that you might grace him with something as simple as a wave goodbye.

But you didn’t. You simply stood there, watching from the shadows, trying to find some relief in tears shed, but you came up dry.

And he left.

When he returned, he came as Private Johnathan Price.

Nearly half a foot taller since you saw him last. Mostly the same in disposition if only a bit more self-assured.

In the 18 months of his absence, all you had was a shoebox full of unopened letters and that chasm left behind that grew deeper, still. Every week, unquestioningly, there’d be an envelope addressed to you. And every week, you’d hold it with measured trepidation and excitement. The first one brought you relief to know that you hadn’t lost him in your near ruinous parting of ways. But as you felt the weight of it in your hands, your fingers prudently tracing the ink, you couldn’t bring yourself to read what lay inside. It felt it would be ripping the bandaging off of a wound that had barely begun to heal.

So, you kept it aside.

18 months. 72 weeks. Every corresponding letter that followed underwent the same approach. You held them, appreciated them for their infallible arrival, and locked them away with repentance as the pile grew.

The letter that followed, came hand-delivered.

“You could have written back at least once, y’know.” He says with a smile.

“I’m—”

Sorry, Johnny. Forgive me. Forgive me. Please—

Your ensuing apology dies at your lips, and you nearly suffocate under the weight of it until—

“It’s okay.” He promises.

“It’s not.” You assert back.

His gaze softens and he tries again. “Hurt ya when I left, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“So, it’s okay.”

He means to placate. You know this and an infinitesimal part of you appreciates it. But what takes more prominence is one blazing question left behind.

It blisters and leaves behind the blackened soot of your unmatched expectations. A skeletal impression of his well intended albeit anticlimactic confession.

All you’re left wondering is—

Why didn’t it hurt you to leave me, too?

You met him in London to celebrate your collective 21st birthdays some time halfway in between them.

It took some coordination, between your school and his training in Sandhurst. He never told you — said he wanted to keep you detached from that part of his life.

How’re the— I don’t know what to ask, John. You never tell me anything.

I tell you plenty.

He does well— his mother informed you as much. But the details remained vacant. You try to fill in the blanks, hazard a guess — a poor approximation of the real thing, you’re certain.

It wasn’t something you liked, but never fought him on it. It felt as though your paths diverged at too steep of an angle and you were the only one trying to get them to realign. He seemed content in this compartmentalization, while you worried your margin in it would grow smaller still.

The disconnect it created left you unsettled. Like a trail down the woods that suddenly ends midway. You’re disoriented and unanchored, forever caught in an abridged narrative with his part missing.

But you couldn’t keep waiting around—

Something you tell yourself to make it better.

“Didn’t bring him with you, then?” He slides a glass of ale across the table to you, the bottom of it catching on the adherent buildup of many a spilled drink, causing the foam at the top to dribble over.

“You asked me not to, John.” You mutter, indignant.

You wouldn’t have asked to begin with, but for appearances sake—

“Didn’t want to have to share you with some other bloke, is all.” His self-satisfied grin tells you he sees right through it.

The implications that simmered beneath that statement cut through you instantly.

He didn’t want to have to share.

What would happen if you told him that it was never even brought to question? That you were his, and his alone.

Would he make it come true?

Would he—

“I’d like for you to meet him eventually, y’know.” You opted for a safer route. Something more dependable. Everything John isn’t.

That’s a lie. He’s nothing but.

“If he stays around long enough.”

“Johnny.” You snap, irritably.

“Been a while since you called me that.” He murmurs, his grin slipping into something less presumptuous and more unshielded. Vulnerable.

“We’re not kids anymore.” You turn your gaze downward, nails digging into the chipping laminate on the cheap bar top until he flicks the side of your palm to make you stop.

“No, we’re not.” It’s his tone that makes you look back up— hinting at some kind of unspoken understanding that you recognize right away.

Let’s not pretend, then.

It’s in the dimming obscurity of alcohol when it finally happens. With your dress hiked up over the curve of your ass, and panties pulled to the side — he fucked you in a rush, outside in the cold fall air. The grain of the brick wall scratched your cheek with every thrust he buried himself in you. His ale-laden breath at the cusp of your ear, his hands cupping your breasts, squeezing — they were your only source of warmth.

“Fuckin’ hell, I’ve wanted to—” He confessed.

“So have I, Johnny.” You matched his revelation with your own.

But this wasn’t how it was supposed to—

You’ll take what you’re given. Even if it’s just this once, just tonight. A fleeting taste is better than the fantasy of him you’ve held on to.

He’s better than what you’ve had in the past. Better than what you’d thought he’d be like.

Or maybe, it’s just how well knows you.

He knows how deep you need to feel him, no matter if it hurts just a little. It’s the kind of hurt you enjoy.

How many women have you been with, John?

Does it matter?

Yes. No. Maybe?

It was you that crossed the line. A temerarious lapse in judgment, a flick of a wrist that knocked down an already precipitous house of cards when suddenly your lips descend upon his. He tastes of stale beer and the cigarette you bummed off an old man at the pub. With a grunt of surprise, he reciprocates, his tongue invading past your lips.

In a flash of somewhat sloppy adjustment, your back remained firmly pressed against the brick wall of the side of the pub, while his hands to the side of you effectively cage you in.

It’s not soon after that he takes the reins.

His mouth is everywhere — your lips, glossing over your jaw to the underside while he firmly grasps a fistful of your hair at the root, tilting your face upwards. He lays siege to the delicate column of your neck, armed with a stinging bite and the consolatory swipe of his tongue after.

John. Johnny.

The straps of your top hang loosely off your shoulders as he pulls the front of it down haphazardly to latch on to your nipple. You helplessly mewl beneath him, fingers trembling as they undo the buckle of his belt.

“Tell me to stop, love. Tell me, or I’ll—” He groans. Your hands sink in past the zipper to palm his erection. Warm. Solid.

“Please, don't.” You sink to your knees with the excitement, the need to taste him chafing at your rib cage with every beat of your heart.

“Fuck— fuck, okay. Just slow down—”

“John. Please.”

“I’ll make it good, yeah? For you. I will.” He swears.

I know you will.

You moved to Liverpool a year later. Something about staying in Hereford without him just kept you trapped in a state of inertia. Spending your time waiting more than anything else. It was time to move on.

Or try to, at any rate.

Humble beginnings for you — a modest apartment, a job that paid the bills and nothing else.

You settled into a routine — oscillating between work, home, and bisected friendships that you formed.

It’s not the same. It’s not the same.

It’s hard not to hold him somewhat accountable for your perpetual state of futility. There’s an essence of banality that follows you wherever you go. A life lived in half measures, mediocre and prosaic. It isn’t fair, and yet—

Why couldn’t you just stay, John?

It’s usually at night when the bitter tendrils of your regret slink up your limbs, like stalks of Golden Pothos, that collect around neck and squeeze.

A fire that kindles all too easily.

Can you even call it your own, when it’s caused by the choices of another?

It’s when you think back to that night in London, the weight of his cock in the palm of your hand— the way his eyes pinched shut and his head tilted back as you attempted to take him all the way in.

“Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?” He’d asked in a choked groan.

Had the head of his cock not been pressed against the back of your throat you’d have answered with:

Upset you weren’t the one to teach me, aren’t you Johnny?

Whatever remnants of that night that weren’t washed away by the glassy comber of one drink too many, replayed themselves a hundred times over. Every reiteration leaves you breathless and wanting — the evidence of it clearly shining on the inside of your thighs and the tips of your fingers.

Until—

A knock.

“You moved.” His voice was weight down by many an unspoken accusation.

“I did.” There’s no point in an apology— he’s here now.

“You never said.” Anger. Hurt. Betrayal — all in coalescence that lacerates you so deeply, you might stain the walls blood red.

“I— Do you want to come in—?”

He walked across the threshold, brushing past your shoulder before you even finished inviting him in.

“You— it’s not much. I’ve only just—” You stumble your way through some kind of explanation as he sheds himself off his duffel and coat. Any reasoning you were able to muster trickles back down your throat as he makes himself comfortable on your sofa, the floral embellished cushion sinking under the weight of him like it’s his right to be.

“It’s nice.”

You’d have expected him to feel out of sorts in this new home of yours, but he finds his place in it so naturally it fucking stings.

It really could have been that easy— a life with him. It’s a dangerous thought experiment but you wonder if he also aches for that near miss of a surrogate life. A peripeteia of decisions that might have led you down a different path entirely.

“How long are you on leave this time?” It’s a jibe and he notices. There’s an unmistakable clench in his jaw, a steely look set in his eyes at your question like he’s willing you to challenge him.

You almost do.

Good of you to waltz by after a year, Johnny. I’ve been waiting.

You really have.

“Two weeks. If you’ll have me.”

You considered turning him away simply out of spite. A laughable thought, really. An egomaniacal deliberation you pretend to have.

You’d never—

“Aren’t you going home?”

Don’t say yes. Please, don’t say yes.

“Would’ve — yeah. But you moved.”

Fuck. Don’t—

“You make it sound like I’m the only reason you come back.”

The words decamp themselves from you without any realization. Subdued embers relight themselves. Veiled desires now unwrapped — a festering infection that itched beneath near-mended dermis now touching air simply because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

“Would— would it be so bad if I said yes?” He asks, wavering slightly in his footing only to gauge your reaction, and you pray you’re not giving anything away.

Yes. Yes, it fucking would, John. Because—

It means nothing in the scheme of its payoff. You don’t know what he expects, because to you his disclosure only exacerbates the acridity of his absence tenfold. It makes his eventual departure seem like a harsher slap to the face.

You could accuse him of pretense. Tell him how hollow it makes you feel.

Or simply—

“No. Of course not.” You lie with a smile, instead.

He believes you.

His parents pass within a year of each other. He attends both funerals in uniform — having only singular days granted to him in lieu of bereavement.

It might have been a personal choice in his father’s case, which happened to be the latter.

The first was an open casket, the second closed — both lowered into the ground while his hand firmly grasped yours.

And after—

On both days, he found himself buried in you, however in polar opposite ways.

It began gentle, with his need to be held and your need to oblige. You straddle him in the backseat of your busted-up Mondeo Estate, soaking in his silent grief as you whisper condolences. He finds his home in the crook of your neck, bedewed with the warmth of his breath and his tears.

He tastes of grief.

Regret, even.

Maybe, one day, you’ll tell him it didn’t have to be that way.

Imagine what we could’ve been, John.

Only seven months later, you find yourself in circumstances alike only in one solitary way. This time, it’s his anger that transcends the grief. You’re turned away, bent over the disjointed desk in the corner of his childhood bedroom. His fingers etching your skin in a mosaic of blue and purple, willing you to acquiesce to his baser instinct rather than envelop him in comfort. He fucked you, brutally — bare teeth, white knuckles. A lacquer of vitriol to coat you in. Only apologetic in the aftermath.

And—

He wouldn’t let you kiss him.

Change is a weight borne poorly by most relationships.

You try to blame the distance between his visits, and the fact that he always seems more worse for wear than the last. A chronic transformation with every visit, like rust on iron — sandstone shaded corrosion bleeding into his edges.

He tries to shed himself of it when he’s in your company but it’s ever-present, like a phantom limb. An undeniable extension of himself.

You tell him not to pretend.

Not with me, John.

You might as well be white noise.

What started out as concern he’d brush off with a ‘this isn’t something you need to be worrying about, love’ slowly evolved into disregard which concluded with blatant contempt.

This isn’t what I—

He stopped himself a moment too late.

“This isn’t what I came back for.”

“Glad we’re both disappointments to each other.”

Finally, some truth spilled out. It felt oddly cathartic, even if it meant having your worst fears confirmed.

He makes an implicit plea to retract what’s been said, undo the hurt caused, and return to your perpetual state of synthetic decorum. Two people who tip-toe around each other, chat about the weather, and when all redundancies are through and done with—

Let’s just leave it be. Dinner’s nearly—

He feasts on your cunt like a man starved.

It’s funny how rarely you consider the sheer probability of his safe return. Is it simply denial? Is he so deeply rooted within your being that imagining him not being there isn’t an ending you can enumerate?

To you, there is simply no finality to John Price. Forever seems like a paltry presumption to have in his line of work and yet, you can never imagine the alternative.

You’ve tried. You even asked him once.

Just once.

“You’ll be informed if— I — they know you’re my— you’ll be informed.” He spoke with such unambiguous apathy like he was reading it off a manual.

Ten different ways to prepare your loved ones for your eventual demise.

“I’ll be informed?” This isn’t the hill to die on, but you just can’t help yourself.

“I don’t know how else to—”

“I’m glad to know I’ll have the privileges of being your widow without you having to marry me, John.”

He recoils away like you just struck him.

It was an unscrupulous remark to make. Atonement is futile, he’d see right through it. All you can do is wait for the dust to settle and carry on.

But he—

“I’d marry you tomorrow if I thought it would fix things.”

It wouldn’t.

Some things are just predestined to remain broken, you suppose.

“I know you would.”

You find yourself at an impasse. Anyone pragmatic might think to cut their losses and retreat. Start anew.

That’s just not who you are.

You find other ways to meet each other halfway, on an equal plane of vulnerability and certitude. Nothing to hide behind in the arms of one another. There are shared breaths, harmonies of impassioned confessions and you find yourselves in the other once more.

You shed the pain you wear like a second skin, disrobed in ways both actual and metaphorical.

He’s kinder and you’re more forgiving.

He tells you it’s his last night with you for a while and you request your goodbye before the morning. You need something to remain unsoiled.

He leaves before you wake.

Sometimes, he leaves a note.

I’ll be back soon, darling.

Empty words. Hollow promises. An interminable echo in a cave that ripples in the subterranean waters you float in.

Except—

I’m doing the best I can.

And that’s enough.

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pinkmirth · 5 months

Note

I want to dom richter so badly 🥺 just imagine how cute he'd look, gorgeous baby blue eyes blown wide with lust and gazing up at you dazedly while a pretty pink blush dusts his cheeks as you ride him. His face, lips, neck, and chest completely covered in kiss marks in your favorite shade of lipstick. All the while, his wrists are snugly tied together with his white headband giving you full rein to his pleasure.

⸻ 𝒮𝒰𝒞𝒞𝒰ℳℬ!

𝑀𝒴 𝐿𝒪𝒱ℰ-𝒩𝒪𝒯ℰ! 𝜗𝜚 ₊ ⊹ oh nonnie, how i love your gorgeous mind! subby richie is now everything to me. and using the headband?! oh my fucking god . . . now that’s just icing on the cake >.< m’gonna faint and i need richter to catch me. thanks so much for sending in your thoughts! now, please enjoy this teensy tiny drabble for my favorite belmont boy ❤︎

𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜ℐ𝒩𝒮 𝜗𝜚 ₊ ⊹ ( 1k+ words of . . . ) richter belmont x fem!reader (black coded), dom!reader, sub!richter, cowgirl position, bondage (via headband ooh!), edging, use of petnames (e.g. love, baby, rich, etc.) reader tells rich to ‘shut up,’ explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo!

richter finds himself quite stuck.

the purest shade of angel-white is what binds him, in the form of a thin strip of ribbon-like fabric. you’d slipped his headband clean off, smiling naughtily as you did so, and created makeshift ‘cuffs’ out of the cloth. it’s drawn together securely around his wrists like a tidy little bow, keeping him right where he ought to be— underneath you.

your lover looks so good this way, so pliant; laid to the mattress, basking in the way you ride him. those glittering eyes of his, a bright ocean blue, have a thick wave of lust clouded over them. his cheeks are blooming the prettiest shade of blush-pink, and it runs across the bridge of his nose to tint the ends of his ears. richter’s chocolate brown hair has gone completely astray, even more so when you thread your fingers through the curls to pull, tug, yank. the best part of all, he's got his plush lips open wide with the pleading call of your name falling past it.

you’re sat atop richter’s spent body, thighs enclosing him on either side. then, your hips begin to swivel; back, forth, back, and forth all over again. your ass, fleshy and round, jiggles with every movement after another, clapping down on the swell of his balls. you shift in the slightest, and he shudders. oh, do you love the thrill of utter control. it’s fun, watching him crumble and whine whenever you go a little faster. that’s what you do best, after all— driving him absolutely mad.

richter isn’t the type to surrender. but for you, he gives it all up; just lies back and allows you to do as you wish. he likes having you above him. he likes your hungry stare and purposeful touches. he likes that for once, he’s allowed to be delicate and helpless.

“you’re so sensitive tonight,” you coo, sounding airy but assured. as for richter, he grows restless beneath you. full of fervor and no pace, his hips desperately buck upwards, driving his cock deeper into your contracting walls. the man grinds, and he whimpers, eyes pricked with watery tears unfallen. you peer down at him, fingers drifting low to swipe at your clit, “you must really want to cum, hm?”

he’s quick to nod, fluffy hair swaying with the motion. “please,” he, a belmont, begs. “if i can’t touch you, at least let me—”

“i’ll allow you to when i see it fit, not when you ask me to.” you dive down to his level, with your hand coming to grasp at his jaw. he feels the soft, familiar warmth of your breasts cushioning against his chest, your peaked nipples grazing his own in a way that pries a light moan from him.

you like this proximity; being close enough to press your lips, smoothly coated with waxy lipstick, upon the warm canvas of his skin. and so you do— one at the height of his rosy cheek, another against the pulse of his bobbing throat, and two more planted near his trembling pelvis. your favorite shade is what he’s now scattered in. richer’s a prettily painted picture. your masterpiece.

“now shut up and be patient,” you smear the lipstick-print on his cheek with the drag of your thumb against it. he takes the digit into his mouth, wraps his tongue around it before you pop loose of his wet lips, “you can do that, i bet.”

“yes, yes, i can,” a hasty reply he gives you, voice coated in desperation. it’s only when you top richter that he complies so well. and with that, you sit yourself up, planting your hands on his chest for leverage. you’re back to working him, angling the drop of your body to make his smooth cockhead collide with your spot.

“ngh, f—fuck,” so many profanities spill from him that you’re sure he can hardly control it anymore. his mouth parts at how nicely your cunt sucks him in, and he can’t even bring himself to tear his eyes away from you sliding down the length of him, leaving creamy rings of arousal gathering at the base of him.

“watch your mouth. you promised to be a good boy, did you not?” you give a sly warning. he’d listen, but the sway of your breasts with every bounce is too entrancing. if only he could just squeeze them, bite and lick and do anything that’d pull beautiful noise from you; flip you on your side, pound into you just the way you like and actually be fucking useful, but he can’t even manage to touch you in a position such as this . . . how cruel.

from where his hands are tied against one another, he digs his fingernails into the supple flesh of his palm. “please, don’t fucking stop! oh, god— keep going, keep going,” with intrigue, you watch him stumble over his very own words. had his hands been free, he would be using them to slam you down harder.

he’s throbbing now; rapid pulses at the underside of him, a sure sign of his nearing orgasm. “you’re close, rich. i can feel it,” is your sweet whisper, feathery against his ear. you’ve decided to give in. “go ahead. cum for me, love.” he does, without question. then comes a round of thick spurts, warm and pearly, tainting your womb once richter finally comes.

his eyes seal shut, and it feels like his groans are reverberating through you. a little more is what you need, just that last bit of stimulation to push you over the edge. so again, you’re fucking yourself down on his twitching cock, getting off on the mess you’ve made out of him; spit-stricken lips and ceaseless moans. he’s a pretty little wreck of your very own doing.

it’s the friction of his pelvis to your needy clit that finally satiates you. with a shameless cry, you spasm around him, reveling in the fullness before slowly lifting yourself off. thighs aching and body worn, you melt into richter, face pressed to his heaving chest.

“i love this thing,” you pull the cloth loose and free richter of its confines, softly smooching his wrists, “keep it forever.”

“and why’s that?” he breathes out, touching where you just kissed him at his arm’s pulse. the headband’s constraint faintly lingers there.

“because it’s the only thing that makes you behave . . . you’re pretty when you behave.” he says nothing, silent with flattery. instead, richter gives the wordless response of his hands coming to fondle you from either side of your hips. he’s been deprived of your embrace for far too long.

it’s quiet now, and the power play’s been set aside. he’s curling himself into your soft body, arms draped over your waist with his face nestled between your tits, and the white fabric’s been strewn over to the edge of the bed. all is still, though your hearts beat wildly together.

one day, he might dare to admit just how much he enjoys being used for the sake of your pleasure.

181 notes · View notes

ressonancee · 7 months

Text

Retrouvaille

✦ You and Minghao have always been friends and remained friends despite of different countries, different time zones, and lives, but now, you and him are back in the same city.

✦ genre: friends to lovers, fluff, just really idiots in love ✦ word count: 3.652

✦ Thea note: hello hello hello, first this is part of @sunnylovespickles september candy land! This was a struggle tobe honest, I started writting this before my exam and this month was so hectic that I just had the time to really sit and write this one, but in the end I think she is nice, she is cute. Also, second Minghao fic in a very short time, who saw that coming? not me!

Retrouvaille; the joy of being reunited with someone again after a long time apart

It was funny how constant variables changed.

Minghao, once upon a time, was a constant - never changing, always there. He was your everything, your friend, your first love, and again your friend. When you think about Minghao the picture that pops up in your mind is vast forests in a mountain. Always there, never changing.

But life, you learned, had its own way of making people drift apart. To make constants turn into a very new set of variables. You and Minghao remained friends even if life tried to make it hard. Different countries, weird timezones, messages that needed a couple of business days to be answered. In reality, you thought, it was just the two of you growing up, and you couldn't be sad about it because, in the end, the physical distance was what made your dreams turn into reality.

But for the first time after five years, you and Minghao would be in the very same city, in the very same time zone, sharing the very same air.

And somehow that scared you because- what if?

What if Minghao grew and changed even if you two were still friends and talked weekly? What if you changed?

Oh god, that was even worse - you almost needed to park your car to try to calm yourself. What if you changed and Minghao didn't like the person you turned into? What if the endless messages, video calls, and Zoom movie dates weren't enough? Could you - could you just hide and leave Minghao alone in a completely different city he has never been into? Did he have your address? How high was the probability of him knocking on your door because you didn't pick him up?

Every possible result of the equation sounded pretty distressing, so you just didn't stop even though you wished to drive to another state you settled for the airport. But the feeling of uncertainty didn't leave you in the airport, and didn't leave you when you saw Minghao passing through the gates in his all-black outfit - well at least he still loved his clothes, that remained unchanged.

"Hao," you call, waving your arm and stretching your whole body to call his attention.

And when Minghao looked at you and smiled you felt that everything would be okay.

Even if you changed, even if his changed, even if the world around the both of you changed - the street name, the culture, the places, the smell, and the sounds, it would be okay because it would be you and Minghao, and that itself was never changing.

Because you knew that if everything changed what you've built with him in the past couldn't - your memories would remain.

"Well," Minghao says finally in front of you, his hair is longer now, he has one more earring, but he is still Hao, your favorite human, your friend. "What a warm welcome."

"I thought about writing a poster saying welcome home cheater but I thought you would kill me for the public shame." You say looking at him, thinking if it is possible to just be a dream, if it could be just something your mind wanted so badly that you thought it was real.

"I would jump in the first plane back," Minghao says, almost eye-rolling at you.

"Okay, this is weird isn't it?" You say, body going back and forth but not changing places, not taking the first step.

"No, it isn't. Come on," Minghao says, opening his arms, "it will only be weird if you want to." He says in his voice low, like he is sharing a secret which makes you laugh before you find comfort in his arms.

You think it will be okay, it won't be weird because you don't want it to be. You think it will be okay because the way Minghao hugs you is the very same as he did back then because even the way Minghao smells is the same. After all is Minghao and everything is okay when he is by your side.

"I really missed you," you say - because is the truth.

"I really really missed you," you can hear Minghao's voice still soft, still telling you a secret that only you know, a tiny bit of him that is only yours. And you don't doubt it.

"Ok, ok," You say taking a step back, a physical distance to not get overwhelmed by his physical presence, "how are we feeling? good to go running around or just straight home and delivery?"

"Straight home, a good shower, and a delivery?" Minghao says putting his hand around your shoulders and walking guiding you around like he knows the airport like the back of his hand, so you do what you need - hold his hand and tuggle him in the other direction.

"What do you want? Greasy food or?"

"Yeah," Minghao says struggling with his suitcase, but still slapping your hand away when you try to get his suitcase. "we can have something like that if you promise we eat like human beings in the next couple of days."

"Can't promise that, still very much of a coffee addicted but now I also dabble in sugar highs," you say knowing that Minghao will lecture you at some point about how that is not healthy and how you also need to do yoga or physiotherapy for you back pains - he always did that, he always ranted about how you should take more care of yourself.

"Oh fuck, we need at least one proper meal per day, for health reasons, or else I will perish under your way of life," Minghao says stopping on his track in the middle of the airport, making you laugh, god you could feel it in your belly how happy he always made you feel.

"Nah, you will survive Hao, I am even including salad in my diet," you say - smiling when Minghao’s reaction is just rolling his eye at you.

Yeah. Things seem pretty similar so far.

On your drive back home you show him different places that Minghao may seem interested in; a museum, a coffee shop, a gallery that you know the owner and he always sends his client on your way for restorations, a restaurant, even a furniture studio that you know the owner - you point out that Joshua promised teaching you so maybe that would be fun.

When you finally arrive you two follow your plan - shower and delivery, but before that Minghao comments on a thing or two in your house; a pretty plant, or a painting. He also may have pointed out that you have a pile of clothes in a chair, you explain that to be fair it is clean clothes that you need to put out but the only free time you had this week was right before going to the airport - you scream in the kitchen while he heads to the bathroom like an old couple - the familiarity of the years very clear in the way that Hao’s screams in the bathroom that he wants fried chicken and something to drink, a beer or two.

“This place is great,” Minghao says trying his best to dry his hair with the towel, leaving droplets all around the living room.

“Hao for the love of god dry your hair in the bathroom,” you complain, “but yeah, the place is great and not that expensive and very close to the studio so jackpot really.”

"Or your studio is in the neighborhood right?" Minghao says leaving the room.

“Yeah, it is really close. By the way, when it will be your interview?” you say turning the tv on and splaying yourself on the couch. “I can take you to the museum is not really that far if you get the job we can-”

“Don’t jinx it!” Minghao screams from the other room, probably hanging his towel. “We talked about it, we want it too much, let's just not think about it but of course, I want the ride or I can Uber it, is not really a hassle."

"Is not jinxing I was just thinking about how cool would be," you try, but Minghao knows you better than you know yourself really, he knows how you build big fantasy castles in your head, how you take a leap bigger than your legs can take, how you run way too ahead with a simple prospect, and how in the end when things don’t go your own way the downfall is way harder than it should be - not only the reality is crushed but all your dreams and fantasy too.

"Yeah and giving both of us anxiety, let's pretend I didn't get it and we are just having a great time because I'm visiting," Minghao says sitting on your side, like he is extremely exhausted, his hair falling on his face.

"Oh but I do have a great time when I am with you. I don't need to pretend,” you say giving Minghao your best smile because it is the truth, and because it is Minghao, and because you are indeed the happiest you have ever been.

"That's not what I meant," he says mirroring your smile, “that is a given, stop being a smartass.”

And you feel warm like it is a physical reaction to your happiness across your body. In a weird way, you know Minghao feels just the same. In a way that familiarity, that certainty, is what helps you to anchor yourself in the moment, to make you feel grounded. You wish you could stop the time - that weird image of Minghao on your sofa, in your house, in your new city, in your life. You know you will cherish that moment for a long time, the image of Minghao in clothes way too big for him, some of his nails are chapped, you are sure that he took off his earrings because of airport security and didn’t really bother to put it after it.

That weird want, the desire to stop time remains with you every time you look at him, it happens in that coffee near your house, the very same coffee that you did online dates with Minghao, sometimes you would bring your drawing supplies and just chat the whole afternoon while Minghao did some house chores. Seeing him in that coffee makes you almost pinch yourself to see if it is real. When Minghao points that out, that he recognizes the printing on the wall, or that he remembers that you painted the view from the windows you wish you could hold that moment and put it into a bottle, maybe you could send it as a message for your future self when that moment don’t exist anymore.

You wish you could cherish every little moment. Cherish the walks in the park, and cherish the supermarket trips at the end of the day whenever Minghao was too bored.

In a way you find new things about Minghao, the way that he is more organized even tho he sucks at drying his hair without wetting the whole floor. And the fact that he is so invested in fashion that he always finds something to try on on a random trip, or that everything turns into a reference for his work. But Minghao every now and then makes you remember that your friend was there and no matter how many months or years apart, he would still be there. Unchanged.

It was the way that he always made sure he brought his favorite tea, or the way that he always filled you a cup as well without even asking. It was the way that he always tilts his phone so you can watch the silly video on repeat or the way that he always lends his coat to you because you always fucking forget to take one, and sometimes you also leave it in places like that time you only noticed when you arrived home and Minghao run to the restaurant to retrieve it before the restaurant closed.

Or when Minghao remembered a silly thing that you said or did that you didn't ever recall anymore. Like when you dedicated an entire sketchbook for the butterflies collection of the museum.

"Do you remember that?" you ask in disbelief, looking at Minghao, who still staring at the painting, his hands behind his back like an old man.

"Of course," Minghao says, finally looking at you, "I think I remember everything you ever loved. I think after you moved I kept a mental note on things that made you happy, the first few months were so hard for you that I always tried to remember everything that made you smile."

He tells you, the same way he tells you he brought fresh bread when he was out in his morning walking like his words don't make your heart beat faster or like his words don't make your knees buckle, that don't make you almost cry in the spot. But the only thing you can do is give him your best smile and keep that memory in a heart-shaped box in your brain. When Minghao gives you his best smile you know that the future doesn't scare you, because you already know one thing for certain, that you will love him no matter what.

When Minghao`s phone rings and he excuses himself while you are fixing the lunch you know it is something important - it is the thing, it is what will dictate if you can take a leap in an unknown and different future. And the minutes that Minghao is on the phone you pace around the kitchen, almost burning the chicken. You can feel your heart beating against your chest, your hands sweating. But then Minghao pops up in the door, a shy smile on his face, and you know, you just know everything will be fine.

"Did you get it?" You ask.

"Yeah, I got it," Minghao says giggling.

"What the fuck?" You say trying to understand what that means, how important and how everything will change from now on, but some will still be the same. "What the fuck Hao."

You say already jumping around and wrapping your arms against Minghao, and you are so happy that you are almost bursting. You can feel Minghao's arms against your body, but still, everything is so dreamlike that you ask yourself if you are real if this happened. Because if the present is so beautiful you are afraid to ever think about the future and be blinded by it.

"We need to celebrate this oh my god," you say, trying to breathe even though Minghao's arms are holding you in place. "I have a bottle of wine or two. We are having a home party!"

When Minghao giggles and makes your heart triple the size it is you think you burn the chicken. In all fairness, you didn't, but the onions are another story, they already reached the charcoal-like look. And not even that makes you or Minghao stop smiling. While Minghao sets the table you bring out the wine - not the cheapest wine ever, but still not something utterly special. It is a market-bought wine, a mid-range price, it doesn't scream broken teenager but doesn't really scream special occasion either, but when you say that you can go buy a special and price wine bottle Minghao is against the idea.

So you both share the bottle of cheap wine with a side dish of almost burnt chicken, and you suspect you might be the happiest person in the world. When you and Minghao sit on the sofa you can almost feel like you are floating, it is the wine - you say to yourself, but deep down you think it might be so happy you are starting to fill up like a goddamn balloon.

"What?" you ask when you notice Minghao`s eye lingering on you.

"Nothing," he answers but his smile still plastered on his face, his lips tinted because of the wine that you shared.

"Come on, there is something, I know you, Hao," you press on, leaving your wine glass on the floor and sitting on the sofa, your back upright looking directly at him.

"I-" he giggles, "I guess I am just happy," he says leaning his head to the side - his longer hair falling along, making you laugh and reach to tug his hair in his ear, digits softly running across his cheeks.

"Oh the cheap wine is doing its job," you tease, making your friend laugh.

"It’s not even that bad," he whines and takes another sip of the wine trying to prove something. While Minghao is sipping on his wine you take the opportunity to lie down on the couch, your legs half off the sofa, and your chin resting on Minghao's sternum, his legs right by your side and it feels a little bit cramped in your tiny sofa but you don't mind.

"Oh my God, you are a changed man, where is my friend?"

"Is it that weird to see me happy?" Minghao says and he is looking at you, eyes so bright you swear you can see little stars in it.

"You know, is it not," you say, poking his ribs, even though the tiny space makes it hard to bother him like you want to, "I'm just deflecting because I don't want to talk about how happy I am and I feel silly."

"How happy are you?" He asks and you don't think you can put it into words. Sure you could try, but Minghao is wearing his biggest smile, and you know, deep down, that he is the only one who can understand you without words. You two always functioned like that, like words were not always needed. Your bond was always there, making every step of the way easier, and communication between you two didn't need a lot of words, you didn't need to explain something - Hao could read between your lines.

"Very very happy," you say because it is Minghao, he could understand beyond that.

"Well, I am very glad and very happy as well," Minghao answers, kissing the top of your head.

"I missed you," you say against his clothes, face buried in his chest.

"I know, me too."

You finally pick up your courage to look at Minghao, planting your hands on his chest and resting your chin on it. Minghao's digits are almost feather-like when he fixes your hair.

The truth is that no place should be called home. No place comes close to Minghao's arms. No place comes close to his presence and the way that you feel engulfed in his warmth, in his smell, in the way that his low giggles hit your ear.

Minghao's fingers brush against the nape of your neck and you almost melt. If Minghao was the forest you would turn into a river that bends its way across it.

You rub yourself against his hand, receiving a giggle again.

"Are we doing this?" Minghao asks you.

And you know what he means.

You think you always did that, catch Minghao's thoughts when he throws it in the air.

And you want to say no. You want to say that you are afraid of change. You know that would change everything, that agreeing would mean saying yes to never going back - but in a way, you know it is already too late.

You and Hao are already there, in that uncharted territory, in that gray zone. Things already changed, yet you are still the same way - warm in his arms, safe against all the odds, because deep down you know - the street name can change, the sound of the street can change, the smell of spring can change, the country and the continent, the words that go out of your own tongue and the words that dance in your ear can change.

And Minghao can too, he did change, he transformed, just like a forest that experiences the seasons can change, but yet, he remained the same - always there.

When Minghao kisses you it is so tender that your heart feels full, beating against your chest. The feeling of having a new experience with something you have known for so long makes you so happy because it is Minghao and everything with him feels like home. Minghao, if you think about it, is the warmth of a cozy bed, Minghao is the safest place to fall. And even though you never kissed Minghao the feeling of knowing who he is makes everything feel very familiar - and yet it was something you never experienced before.

You never felt Minghaos’s hand cradling your face, Never once your breath was entangled with his like this. You never experienced this Minghao.

“I think it is long overdue,” you say when Minghao’s lips leave yours. “To be honest, I don’t know how we didn’t fuck it up sooner,” and that’s true because you lost count of all the times you thought about kissing Minghao.

“If we did it I don’t think it would be here,” Minghao says his fingers caressing the skin of your neck.

“Because we would hate each other,” and you know it is the truth, you and Minghao have always been tapping in that weirdly thin line, but never crossing it, always thinking about the most common outcome - fucking everything up.

“I could never hate you,” Minghao says earnestly and you know it is true, you know because it is Minghao.

“You know me, I am a little petty I could totally hate you,” Minghao’s laugh resonates and you are pretty sure you are the happiest person ever.

“Can you, please, shut up for just a minute, I am trying to kiss you again,” and it is your time to laugh until Minghao’s hands hold your face and kiss you again.

#septembercandyland #xu minghao fanifc #xu minghao fic #seventeen fic #seventeen fanfic #xu minghao fluff #seventeen fluff #t: xu minghao #t: writting #t: seventeen

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throneofsapphics · 6 months

Text

sweet ride

Nesta x f!Reader

Summary: Day 26, Face sitting with Nesta

Warnings: face sitting, oral

kinktober masterlist

She’d tugged you away from the party the first chance she got, not that you put up any protest. One look at the dress you were wearing, and lust crossed over her eyes, unashamed arousal dripping from both of you. You’d worn nothing underneath, knowing the exact reaction you got. Considering the dress was currently bunched up around your hips, you hovering over her face as she waited impatiently above you, it worked.

“Just sit on my fucking face already,” Nesta hissed, her nails digging into your thighs. You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth and glanced back towards the door. Closed and locked - no sound of anyone outside.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” You protested.

Her lips curved into a smirk, “cute you think you could,” She tugged your hips down, planting you firmly on her face. Her lips sucked at your clit, drawing a whimper from your throat. You fell forward, hands gripping the headboard.

“Gods, Nes.” She chuckled into you, and started moving your hips - encouraging you to rock back and forth on her. You gave into the feeling, letting your body move - letting pleasure take over you.

Moans vibrated against you, her tongue out now letting you ride back and forth, her nose pressing against your clit. Any fear of hurting her drifted right out of your mind, only focused on how fucking good this felt, her hands moving up from your thighs to tweak your nipples, your breasts bouncing above her.

An idea crossed your mind, and you figured it might be a bit uncomfortable, but her reaction would be worth it. You leant back, balancing one arm on the bed beside her waist. Her eyes looked up at you in confusion, but your fingers dragged up her folds. Her hips bucked, and a smirk crossed your face this time. Her blue-gray eyes narrowed. She doesn’t like the tables turned on her. She yanked you back forward, sending you nearly flying into the headboard, before grabbing your hips.

She controlled your movements, guiding you back and forth over her. You let her roll your hips, your arousal spreading all over her face. Something about that spreads satisfaction through you - that Nesta would smell like you, have your scent on her - for the whole world to know exactly who she belongs with.

Thoughts left you completely as your arousal peaked, sending a wave of pleasure through you - pulling you under and throwing you back over again. The coil inside of you exploded, your muscles clenching as it felt like lightning shooting down all of your veins.

You forgot your own name, only hers - chanting it over and over again like a prayer. With shaky legs, you climbed down her body, collapsing on top of her. A sweaty, breathless mess. Her fingers dug into the back of your hair, tugging your head up enough to see her. The satisfied look on her face, smug and full of pride. You wiped some of your own arousal from her lips with your thumb.

Eyes on her, you brought it between your lips, swirling your tongue around it to taste your own arousal. Her breath caught this time, fingers digging into your hair.

“Fuck,” she cursed, and twisted you over, straddling your chest. She glanced down at you, and you gave her a nod. “Tongue out baby,” she barely waited for you to follow her instructions before she lowered herself onto you.

#nesta x y/n #nesta x reader #nesta archeron x y/n #nesta archeron x reader #acotar smut #acotar imagine #acotar drabble #kinktober 2023

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 10 months

Note

This may be an out-there one but stick with me for a sec! I remember Leona going off to Jamil about how Kalim’s best asset is that he’s friendly and he knows how to use that to sway people whether he knows it or not. With that in mind, may we see Kalim’s magical charms work on Maleficia?

Consider this interaction as a part 2 to this one! They just happen to flow together really well.

P.S. For no reason at all, you should totally go read Jade's School Uniform vignette :))

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

A single spot of sunshine lit up all of Diasomnia's dank, gloomy lounge.

Kalim, a gargantuan smile plastered on his face, was seated at a table, playfully swinging his legs back and forth. He had with him a portable stove and a tea set, both ridiculously fine and expensive. His friend Silver would soon be there, and the two would delight in sharing an afternoon snack and catching up on one another's lives.

I wonder when he’ll get here! Kalim thought, angling his head toward the doors that spilled into the room. He said he was meeting up with his dad first, so maybe they’ll come together?

From a corridor came faint voices, low and calm, like lost souls afraid to startle their own shadows. The shapes of two people extended along a stony wall, green candlelight haloing them as they approached. Their forms steadily grew larger and larger until they had, at last, consumed all light.

"Silver?" Kalim called as he hopped out of his chair.

A pair entered the lounge, chasing away the sun in favor of the stars. Cloaked in black and pale-faced, inhuman horns protruding from their heads, they heralded in the night and bad dreams like the monsters from under one’s bed.

Kalim greeted them with cheer anyway.

“It’s you, Malleus!! You’re with your family today, huh?” he cried out, excitedly waving at the duo. “Didn’t think I’d run into you today. Usually you’re so hard to find for meetings!"

“Asim. I had not expected to encounter you myself.” The corner of the prince's mouth lifted into a slight smirk. "Perhaps you've not looked hard enough."

"Gahahah! I'll try harder next time then!"

“Who might this be, Malleus?”

“Excuse me.” His eyes slid to the woman beside him as gestured toward Kalim. “Grandmother, I give you Kalim Al-Asim, a fellow dorm leader. Asim, my grandmother, and current queen of Briar Valley.”

“Your grandma?!” Kalim’s exclamation echoed off the cavernous walls. There was no effort to conceal his shock, not in tone nor in face. “Whoa, I never would have known…! I thought she was your sister or something! You look a lot alike.”

Maleficia chuckled darkly. “We fae mature quite differently than humans. Our true age rarely shows.”

“So you look a lot younger than you actually are? That’s so cool!” Kalim laughed, oblivious to his own brashness as he ran his mouth. “There’s someone in my year level that’s kind of like that too. Have you met Riddle? He looks small but he’s actually super smart and responsible! I really look up to him!”

Maleficia nodded as she patiently listened in.

Next to her, Malleus slowly surveyed the room, then allowed his gaze to drift back to Kalim. “If I may ask, where have your own relatives, Asim? Were they not to accompany you today?"

“Oh, that!! Only dad could make it this year.He had to take an important business call, so he said go hang out with some friends and he’ll catch up with me later!”

Kalim indicated the canister beside his tea making supplies. “He brought back a new blend from one of his trading partners. It’s a rare tea made with petals and buds from the Queendom of Roses and Briar Valley. That’s where Silver’s from, so I wanted to share it with him!”

“A tea made in part with plants from the Briar Valley, you say…” Malleus cradled his chin in one hand. “Most intriguing. Our kingdom is a small, isolated one. It is not often that our culture is able to merge with that of another."

“The Queendom of Roses is the country east of our continent,” Maleficia said sagely. "It is not only known for its roses, but all kinds of flowers that blossom in the springtime. Being that our Briar Valley is more northward, our flora tends to be much hardier than that of the Queendom."

"That means your flowers and theirs are different somehow, right? It's neat how someone thought to bring roses from two completely different places together!" Kalim grinned widely. "It's like going to a feast where each guest brings a dish from their culture so everyone can have a taste of where they come from.”

Maleficia stared at the young man, her expression indiscernable.

“Oh yeah, if you guys are interested in it, you can try some!” Kalim offered.

Malleus cocked his head. "I believe you stated that your intention was to share the tea with Silver?"

"Don't be shy! It's my treat, and there's plenty to go around! I'll go and brew it. Take a seat while you wait!"

“Hmm, if you are offering… I suppose it would be rude of us to refuse your thoughtful invitation. Grandmother?”

“No objections.”

The Draconias slunk to the table and sat, their lithe forms melded with the quilted leather chairs. They looked right at home with their refined posture, commanding the lounge from their thrones without so much as lifting a finger.

Kalim appeared like nothing more than an attendant in the powerful presence of royalty, buzzing about and fiddling with various tools as he set to making the tea.

Removing the lid off of his kettle, he poured in enough water to fill most of the vessel up. Kalim set it upon the portable stove and cranked the heat up. A soft electric hum started, and the flat disc upon which the kettle sat slowly warmed.

“What a strange device," Malleus mused, his brows creasing at the various dials and settings on the stove. "Would it not be more efficient to prepare the tea with magic? A single puff of fire breath would also suffice to hasten the tea."

"Probably! But you two are my guests. It's my job to feed you and make sure you're enjoying yourselves! This is my way of doing that."

As he talked, Kalim kept his hands in motion. He popped the cap off of his cannister, scooping out unassuming mounds of dried leaves and flowers and letting them fall into each teacup. First, the queen's, then Malleus's, and himself last.

"In my home country, guests are always served before the host. It's to welcome people into our homes. 'You're my friend, and I respect you. I want to honor you with food and drink, to treat you like you're a member of my family.' That's the feeling behind it!"

“I see. So this is the hospitality that comes specifically from the Scalding Sands.” A small smile formed on Malleus’s lips. “I do recall similar kindness from my trip to Silk City. The people of the Scalding Sands are very friendly and warm, much like the sun.”

“The times have certainly changed,” Maleficia remarked. “Back in my day, the children of man were not quite so open-minded. To invite fae to any gathering was to invite danger—such was the common sentiment.”

“Ahhh, that’s too bad. Being left out of a party never feels good!” Kalim let a rare frown appear. “I guess I never realized how lucky I am to live in a time where all kinds of people can be friends.”

The kettle rattled on the stove, a high-pitched whistle erupting from its spout. He swiftly removed it by the handle, and set to pouring hot clear liquid into Maleficia’s cup, then Malleus’s, and his own. Curtains of steam rose up, hiding his features as he chewed on his thoughts.

“Silk City wasn’t always as big as it is now,” Kalim finally said. “My ancestors found a way to use the waterways for trade. It connected us to new information, goods, and people. Then over time, the population grew into the big community we know today.

“Things changed a lot! I’m thankful that they did, because that means all of us can experience so much more together, like this tea. The world really opened up to us.”

The leaves and rosebuds started to unfurl, their colors and flavors seeping into the hot water. A subtly sweet, mellow scent wafted up, filling the lounge with a flowery perfume.

“Indeed, it has.” Maleficia agreed. “Our Briar Valley is set in its ways, yet the world around it seems to constantly shift. I did not think I would live to see the day a child of man so fearlessly entertains me for tea myself—but here we are, fae and human, on equal terms.”

She reached over and squeezed Malleus’s hand. He laid another over hers and smiled back. There was something sad and haunting in their eyes, a mutual understanding of something far darker than their words would allow.

“Yeah, it’s great that we can do stuff like this without worrying anymore! Speaking of, I think the tea’s about done brewing. One last final touch…”

Kalim picked up his entire sugar pot and inverted it over Maleficia’s cup. Several cubes tumbled out and splashed into the beverage. The typically composed queen startled at the sugar and tea concoction (especially when Kalim produced another sugar pot and proceeded to do the same to Malleus’s cup).

“Is this… customary?” Maleficia carefully inquired.

“No, we’d usually add more! Luxurious tea is sweet tea!!” Kalim responded, totally oblivious to her shock. “I thought I’d just be serving Silver today though, so I bought way less sugar than I usually do. I hope it’s still to your liking though!”

“Ah, this style of tea would be the same kind I was served in Silk City. The… exceedingly sweet kind,” Malleus said warily. He spoke no more, but the warning had already made itself evident.

“… I understand. This dish is an integral part of your culture.” Maleficia lifted her cup with the grace and elegance befitting of a queen. “I shall partake in your saccharine fare… Asim, was it?”

“Yup, that’s me! Kalim Al-Asim.”

“Fufu. I will remember your name and face, Kalim Al-Asim. Of that, you can be certain. After all, I had the opportunity to hear many interesting things from you. It would not do to forget such an important individual—and a beloved companion to my Malleus.”

She swallowed her overly sugared tea without flinching. It was strong, peppered with floral notes—two adjacent springtimes at the same threshold. To one side, the Queendom with a sweet medley of rainbow flowers clustered around its roses. To the other, the once great Briar Country, its rosen blooms shrouded by bitter bramble.

So different, yet still meeting in the middle. Humans and fae, reconciling under the same sun.

“How is it?”

Maleficia slowly lowered the cup from her lips. They ached from the sugar in a single sip, yet she was satisfied all the same.

“It was delicious.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #Kalim Al-Asim #twst imagines #Malleus Draconia #twst interactions #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland interactions #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #disney twisted wonderland #Maleficia Draconia #NRC Family Day

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 4 months

Text

Pairing : Kang Taehyun x F!Reader TW : none ; fluffy ; Taehyun being cute as usual ; slightly suggestive at the end ; Word Count : 0.7k Request : nope! A/N : my life is a wreck but writing keeps me sane (kind of delulu but I'd rather be in my own head than at work dealing with my issues.)

“Working out in the morning before anyone gets to the gym is the best, isn’t it hon?” Taehyuns voice broke through the thin barrier of your conscious and subconscious as you mindlessly began to doze off on the unclaimed workout bench. You hummed softly, tiredly, in response, not even fully registering what he had been saying, but the sound of his voice had you responding nonetheless. “Honey…?” Although still energetic, his tone had grown softer, and a lot closer than it had been before. “Are you still tired? You can go back to the house if you want…”

“Mmmn…” You let out another sound, waving your hands weakly in an attempt to tell him no without actually having to open your mouth to do so. Truthfully, waking up at 6 in the morning to go to the gym would have been hell if it had been for anyone else… But there was something about the thought of seeing Taehyun working out that had you stumbling out of bed this morning and pulling on your comfiest clothes and following him out the door.

You couldn’t understand how he had so much energy, it made no sense to you at all, and the only thought, although not rational at all, was that he was running on fully charged batteries and yours hadn’t been changed in months… At least that’s what it felt like. “If I knew you’d be sleeping on the bench, I would have brought your blanket and pillow so you could at least be comfortable.” He teased, but a soothing, loving hand came down to caress your cheek. “I don’t have to work out this morning, it really wasn’t in my schedule, I just wanted to do something with you.”

He was sweet, sweeter than any kind of candy or dessert. The fact that he did this just so he could spend time with you had you opening your eyes, albeit slowly, to look up at him with the sleepiest smile. “You’re so cute…” Mumbling the words, you raised your hand, ghosting your fingers along any part of him that you could reach. “Can we get breakfast after this?”

A snort, the tiniest puff of air shot from his nose as at your question, but his head nodded in agreement before he grabbed your hands and carefully pulled you up from off the bench. Your still tired body fell limply against him and his arms that protectively wrapped around you were warm and safe and you found yourself almost falling back into your slumber while leaning against his chest. “You never were a morning person…” He mused, delicate fingers tracing soothing patterns against your back, as if he didn’t mind if you fell asleep again. “But you’re so beautiful when you’re sleeping… I don’t mind…” You felt his chin lower, resting against the top of your head as he swayed your bodies back and forth, a lulling motion that had you giving up the fight against sleep, only staying awake enough to listen to the sweet sentiments that drifted through the air around you. “Being able to wake up beside you is the most amazing thing… And luckily your snoring is enough to wake me up so I don’t even have to set an alarm.”

“Hey!” You jumped back, not a lot considering the soft constrictions of his hold, but enough to look up at him with a look of shock that had him cackling and finally letting you go. “I don’t even snore, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a peaceful sleeper, so quiet…” You rambled, but he wasn’t even listening, laughing the entire time that you defended yourself. “You’re so mean, I’m going back to the bench.” You muttered, turning around to go back to your makeshift gym bed, but his arms snaked around your waist and his lips planted a garden of kisses against your neck as he pulled you back against him.

“I was thinking we could go get breakfast now and then we can spend the rest of the morning in bed… You can go back to sleep… Or we can just do our favorite workout…” His voice lowered, the sultry tone had you craning your neck to look at him, his cheeks a light pink blush and his eyebrows raised. You didn’t hesitate, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the exit.

You weren’t the biggest fan of morning workouts… But this kind… The kind he was talking about… It was acceptable. The only acceptable form of working out that you’d accept before 11am.

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hufflepuffwritingstuff2 · 5 months

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Can you please write something where the whumpee had to take some medicine which made them pass out/fall asleep for many hours and when they wake up all dazed and confused on the verge of tears hyperventilating because they don't remember anything , caretaker arrives and soothes them and just fluff

I really really love your writing too!! Thanks

Hi Anon! Sure! Thank you for the kind words, and for requesting this! Sorry it took so long, but here you go!

Whumpee was floating. They felt like they were drifting in a black ocean, the waves rocking them back and forth. Whenever Whumpee would try to think of anything, the waves would gently pull them under until their mind became blank again. Whumpee was just returning to the surface of the water when their eyes fluttered open.

They looked around the room- their room, they were pretty sure. But they weren’t sure of anything else, like how they ended up in their room or why they weren’t in the ocean anymore. The uncertainty scared them, so much so that their breathing quickened, and tears formed in their eyes. Why were they here? What was going on?

The door to their room- again, only partially sure that the room was theirs- opened, revealing a familiar face.

“Hey,” Caretaker greeted, “finally awake? Oh, oh my gosh, sweetheart-”

Caretaker quickly made their way to Whumpee’s bedside.

“What’s wrong?” Caretaker asked softly.

“Where’s the ocean?” Whumpee asked tearfully, “why am I in my room? This is my room, right?”

“Yes it’s your room, of course it’s your room,” Caretaker said, running a hand up and down Whumpee’s back.

“But how did I get here!? Why is the ocean gone!?”

Whumpee was fully sobbing now, and their breathing was so quick they were hyperventilating.

“Shh, shh,” Caretaker soothed, “Whumpee, honey, it’s okay. The ocean, er… the ocean just had to leave, okay? You were in an accident, you went to the hospital, they treated you, and then they sent you home on bed rest. I’m taking care of you, but you’re on some weird meds that might make you feel funny. Please calm down, Whumpee, take a deep breath. Come on, like this-”

Caretaker took a deep breath in and waited for Whumpee to do the same. Whumpee took a deep, shaky breath. Caretaker exhaled, and Whumpee followed suit.

“Good job, a few more times, alright?”

Caretaker walked Whumpee through the breathing exercise, at which point Whumpee had calmed down a little. They weren’t hyperventilating anymore, and their sobs had reduced to the occasional hiccup.

“Good, very good,” Caretaker praised softly, “I knew you could do it. Can I sit with you?”

Whumpee nodded, sniffling. Caretaker smiled and climbed in bed with them. They held Whumpee close, careful to not jostle their still-healing injuries.

“There now,” they said, “let’s just sit a minute. I’m making lunch you know. Wanna guess what it is?”

Whumpee shrugged.

“It’s bacon sandwiches,” Caretaker said with a smile, “you love those.”

“F-for me?” Whumpee asked, eyes wide.

“Mhm,” Caretaker said, “just for you.”

Whumpee still felt disoriented, but the promise of lunch had taken their mind off of the black ocean. They snuggled into Caretaker’s chest, their worries melting away.

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roguelov · 9 months

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Omg omg omg so I am having Morpheus ideas, you and Morpheus have been dating for a while but he’s never told you he can see you daydreaming, so imagine sitting in the library with him and Lucienne as they do their work and you start daydreaming of Morpheus just bending you over a table and just rearranging your guts. He asks Lucienne to leave because that’s enough work for one night and turns to you “Oh dear, what am I going to do with you?” Flustered you’re just like hwat, and he’s like “you really wish me to take you here?” And you’re like holy shit he knows and you’re like “Why didn’t you tell me you could see what I was daydreaming about?” “You never asked” And then makes your daydream a reality

This honestly is my fav headcanon that Dream can see your daydreams

“Perhaps we can …”

“… oh yes and …”

Lucienne and Dream talked back and forth about new plans and ideas for the Dreaming. You were contributing, however, now you were left alone to your thoughts as their voices drifted off.

You sighed, leaning on your hand. Your eyes scanned around the library trying to find some entertainment only to land back on Dream. He and Lucienne stood side by side overlooking a large map of the Dreaming. Your eyes dropped down watching as his slender finger skimmed over the map pointing to various areas. Oh, how it stirred up your imagination.

“Just like that, my love.” Dream cooed. His fingers pumped inside of you as you laid sprawled across the table. “Moan my name.”

You shouldn’t have indulged in your little daydream, but you were exceptionally bored.

So, why not? What was the harm?

Dream flipped you around. Your chest pressed into the cool wooden table. You whined softly as Dream teased you with his cock.

“Louder.” He bent over you, and purred into your ear. “I want to hear you. I want to hear how good I make you feel.”

A lazy, blissful smile tugged on your lips at your at your delectable daydream.

Dream, on the other hand, clenched his jaw. His eyes flickered over. You had a glassy haze in your eyes. You were far too enraptured with your daydream, and he couldn’t necessarily blame you.

His own body started to react at your thoughts.

“Lucienne, I do believe this is enough for tonight. We can pick up the rest tomorrow,” Dream calmly stated. The calm before the storm you were about to experience.

Lucienne nodded and smiled. “Of course, my lord. Goodnight to the both of you.”

You flinched, snapping yourself out of your thoughts. You quickly covered up your nerves - as if you were a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar - with a warm smile then waved her Goodnight.

Dream kept his eyes directly on you, listening as Lucienne’s footsteps faded away and the resounding click of the library’s doors. He slowly stalked over to you. “My dear, what am I going to do with you?”

You blinked, looking at him. “Huh, what do you mean?”

With a single finger, he tilted your chin up. He bent down, skimming his lips over yours. “If you wanted me, you should ask rather conjure up such fantasies.”

You tensed up as your heart sunk to the bottom of your stomach. “Wait, wait, you - you saw those?”

“Oh, yes.”

You nervously swallowed. “You can see my daydreams?”

“I can see everyone’s daydreams.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You squeaked out. Your mind immediately thought back to all your daydreams, especially all those ones with Dream. Even the ones before the two of you got together.

He smirked, “You never asked.”

Your heart lurched in your chest, feeling a heat in your cheeks.

Taking your hands, he gently guided you up to your feet only to swiftly push you down on the table. A gasp left your lips. He carefully spread your legs and nestled himself between them.

Your eyes widened.

He leaned down, caging you onto the table. “Let me make your dreams come true.”

#😏😏😏#the sandman #morpheus #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #smut #anon #ask

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drarrypotterrenaissance · 4 months

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So Good I Could Cry

I saw this post, and knew immediately that I had to write a fic for it. This is my first fic above a T rating, so it was written in one sitting before I could lose my nerve. What follows is the softest, most gentle M-rated fic I think you can find. Additionally, I am very ace, and thought that I was writing Harry as allosexual, until Vukovich told me how much ace Harry came through in this fic, so please take a moment to laugh at my naïvety and then to thank @vukovich for being a wonderful beta reader and for ensuring that I tagged this properly 💜

Words: 1,828 Rating: Mature Summary: There was a tumblr post asking who in your ship cries during sex, and I knew my answer immediately - Harry cries during, and Draco cries afterwards in secret. Read on ao3 here

It’s all so good. Everything has been so good, for months now, that Harry can’t really figure out why it took so long for him to finally ask Draco out. He can’t figure out why multiple years of amazing friendship didn’t turn into dating and kissing sooner, not when it only took him six months to realise that his feelings for Draco weren’t just platonic. He can’t figure out why it took them so long to get here, but he’s beyond glad that they finally have.

Harry’s lost count of how many dates they’ve gone on (although Draco probably knows; he’s obsessive like that, and Harry loves that he knows that about him), or how many times they’ve kissed, or how many scorching looks Draco has given him from the other side of the room. They’ve been taking things slowly, per Draco’s wishes, although Harry hasn’t minded, and has, in fact, been delighted to watch Draco open up to him even more with every dinner and every kiss, like a flower opening so slowly into the morning sun.

Now, though, they’re here, in Harry’s bed with Draco pink-cheeked and sweaty over him, for the very first time. And it’s so good, just like everything else, just like Harry knew it would be, because it’s Draco here with him. Draco’s nerves have dissipated, and he’s radiant, leaning down to kiss Harry, making soft little noises that Harry could listen to forever, beaming and laughing, pressing his eyes shut even as his mouth falls open. There’s a strand of hair that’s come free from its queue, falling alongside Draco’s flushed cheeks, and Harry is overjoyed to watch it sway back and forth, curling up into a gentle ringlet, because that means that Draco must secretly straighten his hair, and Harry knows this now, an intimate little secret to discover even in the midst of this intimate act itself. They’ve been together for so long tonight that Draco’s hair straightening charms have worn off, and he’s comfortable enough with Harry that he hasn’t bothered to refresh them, and now Harry gets to know that there’s a wave to Draco Malfoy’s pin-straight hair, and no one else gets to have that secret.

He reaches a hand up and twirls a finger through Draco’s hair, then cups his face to simply admire him for a moment. Harry doesn’t think that anyone could ever really look attractive during sex. It’s too sweaty and red-faced and slightly gross for anyone to actually look hot the whole way through, but Draco right now is so lovely, so captivatingly beautiful, both for his red-flushed, sweaty face and for how open he is in this moment of vulnerability.

“I love you,” Harry says, before he can stop himself. He’s said it before, a few times, and he’s certain that Draco feels the same way, even if he hasn’t said it back yet. Still, Harry hadn’t wanted to pressure him right now, hadn’t wanted to risk making Draco think that he had to say it back to him at this moment because of everything else. Draco beams, though, and kisses him fiercely, and somewhere in the middle, Harry tips over into ecstasy, coming back to himself moments later with tears wet on his cheeks and more still streaming from his eyes.

They kiss some more after, and then just hold each other close, drifting in and out of sleep for a while. Draco doesn’t say anything about the tears that took a few minutes to stop, although Harry thinks he’d be well within his rights to. Honestly, who cries during sex because their boyfriend secretly has curly hair? Instead, Draco just kisses him, and runs his thumbs under Harry’s eyes to wipe away the tears, and kisses him again while fresh ones appear.

When Harry wakes up an unknown amount of time later, he can still feel the salt, tacky on his cheeks. He passes a hand over his eyes, then scrubs it across his face, before reaching out to pull Draco close to him once more. His hand meets nothing but empty sheets, still warm from Draco’s body, but rapidly cooling. And Harry knows, because he knows Draco, that he’ll be back soon. He hasn’t gone far, nor has he gone for good, and Harry is sure of it even before he sees the light shining from under the ensuite door. If Harry could be patient for two minutes, Draco would surely return to him, eager to reclaim his place next to Harry in their warm bed, and to press his always freezing toes in between Harry’s legs. But Harry’s in love with him, and everything is so good when they’re together, and he doesn’t want to be separated even for the next two minutes, and so he gets up and pads over to the bathroom door, knocking gently to preserve the quiet of the pre-dawn stillness.

“Draco?”

There’s no answer, but Harry can hear the sink running, so he pushes the door open a crack and says Draco’s name again, sees his bare back stiffen slightly at the sound of Harry’s voice. He splashes water on his face once, then turns around with a towel pressed to his cheeks, patting himself dry even as Harry steps into his space and puts his hands gently around Draco’s waist. Draco leans into the touch, but doesn’t respond in kind, continuing to dry his face, the towel now an obstacle, keeping Harry from kissing him like he so desperately wants to. Instead, Harry slips his pinkies into the waistband of the boxers Draco has put back on, and gently smooths his thumbs up and down Draco’s sides.

“Hi,” he says, still making an effort to be quiet for no reason.

“Hello,” Draco whispers back, the towel still obscuring his face and muffing his voice slightly.

“Is everything alright?” Harry gives one of Draco’s hips a gentle squeeze, and Draco sways slightly into his hand.

Draco nods, but doesn’t say anything, and the towel is still hiding his face, which means Harry is forced to judge by Draco’s stiff shoulders how much of a lie his nod was. Harry slowly pulls the towel down, revealing Draco much as he was only an hour before; his face is red and blotchy, his hair is mussed, and his eyes are closed. Unlike before though, his face is now wet with tears instead of perspiration, and Harry feels a stab of pain go through his heart at the idea that something is marring this perfect night for Draco.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, moving his hands to cup Draco’s face, almost able to see the same motion echoed between them from earlier in the evening.

Draco shakes his head, and another tear falls to meet Harry’s thumb before being wiped away.

“Nothing. I’m fine, truly I am. I don’t know why I’m crying.”

Harry wipes away another tear and tilts Draco’s chin up gently until he meets his eyes. He can’t quite parse the emotions that he sees going across Draco’s face, but he can understand, at least in part, how Draco must be feeling. Tonight was a big step for both of them, their first time together, but it was Draco’s first time ever, and Harry feels like his chest might burst with love for Draco for letting him share this moment with him. Some of that must be reflected on his own face, because Draco gives him a watery little smile and tries again to explain.

“I’m fine, it’s just…” ‘A lot’ finishes Draco’s voice in Harry’s head, but he remains silent and gives Draco the chance to say the words for himself. “A lot,” he says, with another small smile, and then his lower lip begins to quaver again. “It’s all been really good!” he hastens to add. “And I’m fine!” he says, more tears splashing down his face. “It’s just a lot, all at once.”

Harry nods his head, wipes Draco’s tears, and kisses him. It’s not one of their best kisses, Draco sniffles in the middle of it, and Harry’s pretty sure that there’s snot in his mouth, but it’s still absolutely perfect, because it’s the two of them standing together in the middle of Harry’s bathroom at some wretchedly early hour in the morning.

When they pull apart, Harry swipes his thumbs across Draco’s cheeks again and says, “I get it.” At Draco’s raised eyebrow - and, oh, what a joy, to see Draco’s dearly loved prickly little personality pushing through his tears - Harry reminds him, “I was crying earlier tonight, too.” He shrugs. “It can be overwhelming sometimes, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t amazing.”

Draco scrubs the towel across his face once more, then fits himself to Harry’s body, pressing his face into the spot between his neck and shoulder that he had been kissing earlier that evening. Draco’s nose presses into a tender area, and Harry thrills to consider that he might have a bruise there in the morning, and can’t wait to avoid all of Draco’s attempts to heal it with magic, instead letting it linger for days as a reminder of tonight. Maybe, he thinks nonsensically, he could even get a tattoo there, to preserve it for all eternity.

“I woke up and wanted to wash my hands,” Draco says out of nowhere, the words slightly muffled against Harry’s skin, “and when I saw myself in the mirror, I just. I don’t know. I guess I thought that maybe I would look different, afterwards. Which, I know that’s silly, but I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to see. And I couldn’t tell if I looked different or not. All I could think about was how I must have looked to you-”

“Absolutely gorgeous,” Harry interrupts, and Draco laughs a little before pressing on.

“And then I was thinking about how you looked at me, and, and, and you love me-”

“I do,” Harry says,

“-and,” Draco’s fists tighten against Harry’s back, and he can feel the material of the towel Draco is still holding move against his spine. Draco pulls back slightly, and looks Harry in the eye. He’s a bit of a mess, with his cheeks a chaotic pink and his eyelashes spiky from tears, but once again Harry is certain that he’s never seen anyone more lovely, “and, Harry, I love you too,” he says, and possibly some other words after that, but those are lost into Harry’s mouth, kissing him thoroughly before lifting him up, letting Draco wrap his legs around Harry’s waist, and carrying him back to bed.

When Harry wakes up the next morning, it’s with Draco curled around him, his face pressed against Harry’s chest, and the bathroom hand towel, which Harry now realises is the novelty Celestina Warbeck one that Draco got him as a joke, squashed under his armpit. It’s so strange, and so perfect, that Harry wants to laugh. It’s all just really good.

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry fanfiction #my fic #my writing #ace harry #asexual harry potter #virgin draco #fluff

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