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sidekick-hero · 2 months

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Someone's banging on his door, the noise so loud that it drowns out Queen blasting from his speakers. His first thought is, "It's back," quickly followed by panic that grips his heart, squeezing it tight as he thinks, "Someone's hurt".

Steve runs to the front door and flings it open before the second thought fully registers, his fears seemingly confirmed when he finds Eddie standing on his porch, fist raised to knock again. The adrenaline pumping through his veins makes everything laser sharp, his mind running a mile a minute as he takes in the man in front of him.

The man who owns his heart and who looks seconds away from collapsing. The dark bruises on his face are a stark contrast to the pallor of his skin, and Steve's stomach drops at the sight of one of those beloved eyes swollen shut. There is blood on Eddie's face, dripping from his nose, which also looks swollen and slightly crooked, and from his mouth, where his lip is split open. He's hunched over, his other arm wrapped around his own middle in a protective grip. 'Please don't let him be hurt any more than this, I can't lose him,' he pleads to a god he doesn't even believe in.

He would beg any deity and any demon for Eddie. His life, his soul, they could have it all if it meant Eddie would be okay.

It's not healthy or well-adjusted or whatever psych-speak there is to say that what Steve feels for Eddie might be fucked up in its intensity. It's not like Steve gives a fuck. He has more important things on his mind.

"Eddie." He wants to say it in a calm and soothing voice, knows that's what Eddie needs to feel safe, but all he manages is a broken whisper, his fear ringing in every syllable.

"Hi baby," his boyfriend says with a smile that turns into a pained grimace before it's fully formed, "sorry for barging in on you like this but I didn't know where else to go."

It breaks Steve's heart to see Eddie like this. The man he knows, the man he loves, is larger than life, with a big grin and an even bigger heart. He shouldn't look like this, so small and still trying to make himself even smaller, and the only thing Steve can do right now is open his arms and let him sink into his body so Steve can hide him away from a world that doesn't deserve someone like Eddie.

Eddie falls right into him, and Steve wraps him in a careful hug until Eddie pushes even closer, obviously needing to be held tight enough that he can fall apart without losing a piece of himself.

They're still on Steve's doorstep, out in the open for anyone to see, but he doesn't care. Steve has a feeling that he won't be in this shithole of a town much longer anyway.

"Oh baby, it's okay, I got you, you're safe here," he coos into Eddie's ear. He wants to ask what happened. He wants to ask what (who) did this and rush upstairs to grab his bat and bash in the skull of whatever (whoever) did this to him.

A pained whimper is all the warning he gets before the weight in his arms grows heavier as Eddie lets himself crumble and break, trusting Steve to hold him through it.

Steve does, almost carrying Eddie to the couch and pulling him onto his lap once they're there, never letting go of him, not even for a second. Once they're both settled, Steve continues to just hold Eddie as he continues to tremble in Steve's arms, silent sobs tearing through his body.

It takes a long time before Eddie slowly lifts his head from where it's nestled against Steve's neck. "I'm sorry," he says again, as if it was ever a hardship for Steve to have Eddie in his arms. As if it's his fault that they live in a world with sharp teeth that likes to sink them into anything soft.

"Don't be, none of this is your fault. Whoever did this to you should be sorry." He doesn't add that they'll be sorry if he has anything to say about it, because he knows that would upset Eddie. That's why Steve keeps those ugly things away from him.

Eddie laughs humorlessly. "I'm pretty sure the only thing they're sorry for is not finishing the job. Some days I think the next time will be the last. That this time they will finish it, finish me. I'm pretty sure that if I don't get out of here soon, I'm going to die here, Steve."

And that's... Steve knows deep down that that's the truth. It's not Eddie being dramatic, like the time he fell to the floor as if Steve had mortally wounded him by refusing to watch the thing with him for the tenth time. It's Eddie speaking a truth that Steve has been trying to hide from them both for months.

Steve knows it's time to make a choice. For himself and for Eddie. For them. Either they leave this town, tonight, or they may never leave it again. Not alive. Because where one goes, the other follows, and Steve knows he can't protect Eddie forever from the hate and violence that bled into the heart of this town long before either of them were born.

"If we leave now, we can be in Indiana before midnight," Steve hears himself say, the decision already made, because the alternative is blood and pain and sorrow.

The kids graduated a few months ago and are about to leave for college. Robin, Nancy and Jonathan are long gone, many miles and just a phone call away. It doesn't matter where they go, any place would be better than here. They have nothing to lose but each other.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"What I'm saying," Steve replies, "is that we can pack up my car right now and be on the highway in about an hour. It's not far to Indy from there. Or Chicago. Hell, if you still wanna go to California, we can do that. I don't care, Eddie. As long as it's with you, we could go to the moon and I'd be happy."

Dark brown eyes search his, one still so swollen Steve wonders if Eddie can see anything with it, the other bloodshot but still beautiful.

"You would do that? Just up and leave everything behind. For me?"

Steve wonders how someone as bright as Eddie (because grades don't make you smart, they both know that) could sometimes be so dense.

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you." It's not a grand declaration of his undying love, no poetic words as Eddie would find them. Just the simple truth of his irrevocable devotion.

Another searching look before Eddie climbs off his lap and back to his feet. He holds out his hand for Steve to take, and when he does, Eddie pulls him to his feet to kiss him. It's hard, a desperate, hungry edge to it, raw like the blood Steve tastes from the cut in Eddie's lip.

Eddie's lips are red when he pulls away, blood staining them like lipstick. "You even let me pick the music while we drive?"

Wondering if his grin looks as bloodstained and wild as Eddie's, Steve teases, "I wouldn't go that far."

Eddie's eyes (at least the one Steve can see) finally sparkle again, and his grin softens to a gentle smile as he cups Steve's cheek and wipes the blood from his lips. "I love you, Steve Harrington."

"I love you too. You have no idea how much."

"I think I'm starting to."

It's Steve's turn to smile softly at Eddie, pressing a kiss into his palm. "Believe me, this is just the tip of the iceberg."

Eddie's grin turns wolfish at Steve's words, breaking the solemn mood. "Just the tip? I think I heard that one before, big boy."

"You're a menace."

Another kiss, another promise ("I'm your menace"), and then they're almost running to Steve's room, hastily packing only what they consider absolutely necessary. After that, they go to Eddie's new trailer to do the same and leave a message for Wayne, explaining what happened and promising to call as soon as possible.

Then they're off, flying down the highway in Steve's car, and when Eddie reaches for the radio, Steve lets him. As if there had ever been any doubt that Steve was going to let Eddie choose the music for every single day of their life together.

With one hand on the wheel and the other arm wrapped around Eddie's shoulder, Steve feels like he's right where he belongs.

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddielovemonth #steddiesongfics #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #day 21 #love is letting him pick the music #my writing

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phoenixyfriend · 18 days

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Shadow and Mirror

Read on AO3, written for this prompt

Cody has a new crush.

Well, a “crush” implies something much more childish than the point he’s reached in his life.

Cody has… felt a connection and really hit it off with someone he finds reasonably attractive.

His brothers are being less than supportive.

“He is my Jedi and one of my best friends,” Rex says, “but I just… for both your sakes, life will be so much easier if you don’t go for it.”

Cody is unfazed. “You do remember he was my Jedi Commander before he got promoted and took you with him, right? I know what he’s like, and I’m into it.”

Rex makes a face. “Uh, all due respect, Cody—”

Oh, this bitch.

“—but he’s changed in some pretty big ways since he split from Kenobi.”

“So’ve I.”

This earns him an eyeroll. “Yes, yes, you’ve discovered your romantic charisma and started charming the pants off of any sentient you encounter on leave. You do realize that’s part of the problem?”

“That I have game?”

“Skywalker doesn’t do casual,” Rex insists. “Open, maybe, if you talk about it, but he doesn’t do casual.”

After a moment of consideration, Cody shrugs. “I can work with that.”

“Can you?” Rex challenges. “Can you really deal with the full force of Anakin’s attention? With him losing his entire mind if you get hurt, and calling you up at three in the morning to chat, and promising you the galaxy in a bunch of flowery words that should be hyperbole, but really, really worryingly sounds literal and sincere?”

“…did you try dating him?”

“No, but I was there basically every time he hung with Amidala, and that shit continued past the point where he gave up on romantic seduction and settled into friendship,” Rex says, more of a grumpy complaint than anything, “and she’s just as weird as he is when it comes to all that, so it’s no skin off her back to match his energy, but you are not on their level.”

“Rude.”

“I’m just saying,” Rex grits out from between clenched teeth, “that you like to have fun, and Anakin likes to dedicate every morsel of crazy knocking around his brain to whichever poor soul ended up in his affections.”

“I feel like insulting your CO that much is grounds for a court martial.”

“Echo told him, to his face, that he occasionally seemed crazy as a bag of tooka kits and about as hinged as a sliding door. General Skywalker took a second to process, and then laughed. He doesn’t care, not if it’s from a friend.”

Cody hums. “Which you are.”

“Yes.”

“Enough to warn me away before I break his heart?” Cody asks. Rex looks away, and Cody can only chuckle. “You’re not that subtle, Rex.”

“I’m trying to make sure you do what’s best for both of you,” Rex insists, glancing at Cody for only a moment before breaking eye contact again, “so Anakin doesn’t get disappointed, and so you’re not walking in blind when it comes to him being… the most.”

Cody snorts. “I can handle Skywalker, Rex. I may not be a Jedi or a Senator, but I can handle one brat with a smart mouth, a bad attitude, and a couple of super-powers.”

Rex grimaces. “I mean… it’s not really… that simple. The Force stuff, I mean.”

There’s something a little odd to Rex’s voice with that one, more than just the weird pauses. Cody doesn’t dismiss it quite as easily as he might have. Instead, he carefully asks, “the whole ‘Chosen’ thing some of the Shinies were gossiping about? Kenobi said it was an old superstition more than anything, a metaphor taken too literally, and that even the Jedi argue about it.”

“When?”

Cody’s expression must speak for him, because Rex clarifies without prompting.

“When did Kenobi say that?”

Cody looks past him at the wall, frowning as he thinks. Rex waits, and doesn’t take it too personally; they know each other too well for that. Finally, Cody shrugs. “A couple months in. Skywalker was still a Jedi Commander with the 212th.”

“So, before Mortis.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “This has to do with that shitshow?”

Rex looks uncomfortable. “You… aren’t 501st.”

“Yeah, and?”

“Well… Kenobi didn’t get possessed. Or channel a god. He just used an extra weird lightsaber for a bit.”

Cody gives it a few moments, and then finally says, “Rex.”

His brother continues to look uncomfortable.

“What did that place do to Skywalker and Tano?”

(Continue on AO3)

#Codakin #Codykin #Anakin Skywalker #Commander Cody #Ahsoka Tano #Clone Trooper Fives #ARC Trooper Fives #Clone Trooper Echo #ARC Trooper Echo #Captain Rex #star wars #the clone wars #eldritch au #phoenix files

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wyn-n-tonic · 8 months

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That's A Real Fucking Legacy: All of You, All of Me

Word Count: 968 Warnings: Uh.... death talk? Author's Note: SHE'S BACK ON HER BULLSHIT, BESTIES.

TARFL Masterlist | Author Blog

It’s been years in the making at this point.

You, Joel. Baby. Except her name isn’t Baby anymore and it’s not Thomasin either.

There was a lot of discussion, a lot of broken hearts and tears from all parties involved. Tommy was touched but he ached. Even when he got over it, found somebody else, he ached so deep in his being that there were nights he thought he’d split himself in two.

Because at the end of the day, he still believes—with all his heart—that your little girl should be his, too. He believes that when you took the last name Miller, it should’ve been gifted over from him.

“I’ll hold onto this hurt for the rest of my life, sweetheart,” he’d said.

Said he’d accepted that he’d caused it but that didn’t make the pain go away. Didn’t soothe that raw, bruised part of his heart—his soul.

There was no begging, Joel was on board from the beginning. Joel was on board before anybody else. Change her name, something more appropriate for who she is to you and Joel and this world. A gift.

A second chance.

Or third. Fourth. Fifth.

One hundredth and many more than you deserve after years and year over this life; this way of living.

Especially for Joel, your strong, broad mountain of a man who believed himself irredeemable in the eyes of everybody but especially yours. He cradled her with such gentleness, even as she grew, that it was hard to believe he was capable of any kind of violence.

So, after a year of late night and early morning talks whispered across the pillows, decisions had been made. A lot of them, actually.

Joel admitted that he felt his humanity pouring back into him with every breath he took beside you; every moment he held your daughter in his arms. He bloomed as father, color darkening his cheeks with emotion every time he looked at her. He felt like before in some sense of the word, like he was being given the gift of fulfilling the only thing he ever felt he was good at.

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, you know where that thought would often go. Silent promises to himself that he wouldn’t fail this time. Or, God help him, he hoped his failure was no longer being in this world to protect her when it came down to it.

In the registry office of town, where all the records of who was who and where they were were kept, you both signed as a new birth certificate was made.

Clara Miriam Miller. No Thomasin, no Baby. No placeholder for who she was or name to carry as if she were some memorial, just Clara.

It means bright. Clear. Joel joked that she was the only light in the darkness he’d ever seen or needed.

It was good, beautiful even. As you finished your signature on the page detailing everything you could remember about her birth—bloody, loud, an early morning surprise that still exhausted you to this day—Joel cleared his throat.

Trying his best to tuck an unruly piece of hair behind your ear and failing, he took a deep breath and finally said, “will you marry me while we’re here?”

That’s the last piece to his puzzle, always has been. The thing he always wanted before—-companionship. Love in such an intimate way. Not that your relationship lacks that as it is but there’s something about being official.

There’s possession to it and there’s this bit of submission as you vow to give all your life and love and hurt and pain and, even, your death to one person.

No. No doubts in your minds about this one either. He loved so fiercely, so deeply, and he’d whispered all his insecurities and broken parts in all the nights you’ve lived together. He didn’t have it before, not when it happened. Selfishly, you’re glad that he didn’t, that his wife had walked away from him years and years before that. If he’d lost her the way he’d lost the others, the way he fears losing you or losing Clara…

But if that had been the case, there would be no you. Not for him. There wouldn’t even be a Clara, there would be somebody else with somebody else.

Or maybe nobody at all.

Your vows are even more selfish as you tell him how grateful you are that you found one another through all this and the more that life tried to throw at you; that you went to him the way Tommy had said to when there was trouble even though it scared you so much to knock on his door.

It scared you to tell him the things you told him, to make the decisions for yourself and decide you were tired of pretending it wasn’t love that you felt for him.

In the end, with Clara’s small face tucked neatly into the crook of his neck, he took your hand, looked at his brother and apologized with gratitude tacked onto the end.

Looking back at you, he smiles and you reach out to touch your thumb into the hidden dimple as it wells deep into his cheek.

“When I go, I hope it’s peaceful,” he says. “I hope it’s beside you, Mrs. Miller, and I hope it’s only after years. And, selfishly, I hope it’s not a pain or absence you have to feel for long because I am going to be mighty pissed off if you make me wait for as long as I did to have you in my bed in the first place.”

Going back to your signature on Clara’s paperwork, you pick up the pen and add -Miller to the end of your name.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tommy miller #tommy miller fanfiction #o writes

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disruptivevoib · 2 months

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I’m not good with questions but

Could you possibly talk about Viscera? I don’t have anything specific but I love the concept that he’s a Whole in a Soul’s place

-🛩️

VISCERA.

Very long ramble under the cut

He is really my most under-spoken-on character here...which is odd because he is by far one of my favorite / more complex ones!

Vis is in his concept, Whole in Soul's place. I think in the album now, he reflects Soul very well in the idea of being the shell. Though this is mainly because Whole isn't really a character and Soul is the implied shell of what we think of as Whole in concept.. The casing, the iron maiden for Mind and Heart to be held within!!! (there is a reason his name was almost Body ig.. thank god CJ reconsidered tho. Body is kinda an awkward name/title.)

Anyways.

Vis is a hollowed out husk of what is supposed to be somebody. Soul is some form of throughline to Mind and Heart. A connector, an adaptor. Viscera is simply not this. He is a vacancy because he is fundamentally nothing. Meant to be someone, torn from his purpose and placed promptly in the spot of what would typically be his identity.

Sooo Viscera struggles to be much of anybody. In this, and through the hundreds of loops he endures due to Astray (Soul as Whole) and his inability to really, of course, be a person when he is meant to just be one facet of someone, Vis remembers everything.

It was a commonly shared idea that Soul is able to choose to remember or forget during loops. Swap Au explores this concept in that Astray explicitly is the reason Judge (Heart as Mind) and Ennui (Mind as Heart) forget alongside himself. Vis, as Whole yet not knowing it, remembers all of this context (though from his own point of view. So he does not know Astray /well/ really. But he feels for him in terms of knowing the panic that comes with having split down to three again.)

Vis is kind and gentle and cares very very much for his thirds, or rather his ids and his Whole as he sees them. He reminds Ennui and Judge of their names and his own every loop, and though things change during loops, and no timeline is entirely consistent, there are throughlines and thus predictability. So he can navigate it just as well.

Viscera is interesting in juxtaposition to Eleutheromania Soul who remembers his loops though Mind and Heart forget just the same. Yet their reactions and handling of the situations are fundamentally different. Though this is due to their roles and the treatment they get in their respective Psyche and by their respective versions of a Whole or Soul.

... But yes. Vis is. deeply longing to be complete in some way. He is unsure always of his emptiness and what might fill it, but never loses this inkling that being Whole is.. what he needs. And in some way, it is and is not that!

He also speaks in intense amounts of prose and roundabout allegories, symbolism, and metaphors. It was more a quirk of his character to make him distinct from how my other's spoke, but I think it also calls to the deeper idea of the way fragmented thoughts put together can be a little outlandish and nonsensical but.. make perfect sense to you in some way. Or something like that.

He also, moves very slowly and takes a lot of time to do things. Like an old window's computer. He needs time to process information!! And I attribute this also to his emptiness and lack of anything but memory as it is all he has in the moment to base what should be his feelings and thoughts on.

^ Though despite that sounding like he cannot feel or think or anything, it is more like trying to make sure he feels like himself? even though realistically Viscera very deeply struggles with that idea. Not that he'd say it ever. Vis is incredibly genuine, though. He does what he can to ensure the safety of others including his ids and they in turn do the same to him.

The Swap Au really makes for a VERY interesting person to look at due to characterization. Someone who is unstable but trying, and through all their struggles remains loving and warm. That is who Astray could be, who Vis essentially is and what Judge and Ennui contribute too.

Also he smells perpetually like citrus. I do not know why but I made it canonical that all four of them have distinct smells to them and the things they summon. Perhaps they are all just very scent oriented.

Also-Also in terms of my other Aus and Sources as a concept for HMS. Of which I can elaborate on ig? if need be! Viscera has no source...................... it is a black voided little pit or hole there instead.

If Soul's source is a star, then Viscera's became a sort of blackhole. I suppose.

#chonny jash #voidthoughts #swap au #viscera swap au #ennui swap au #judge swap au #astray swap au #cccc #let me talk about ennui and judge pls and astray but mainly ennui #Ennui is fundamentally and narratively doomed every time. just FYI and BTW!!!

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bonnie-toyour-clyde · 1 month

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Just got to s13 in my rewatch and i never noticed before that when Sam’s alone in the bunker w Jack watching him try to use his magic (i think 13x3) he’s reading The Drama Of The Gifted Child which is book about discovering your true self after childhood trauma and repressed anger and the knee jerk instinct to become numb to cope with abuse etc and like…. I love that.

I love that he’s aware that he needs to heal his inner child if he’s going to raise this kid who everyone in the world will hate (especially his own brother, who Jack already looks up to and tries to mimic). And its beautiful seeing him confront Dean for telling Jack he would be the one to kill him when the time came (and it’s heart wrenching to watch Jack sitting on the floor behind the corner like a kid trying to listen to his parents in a screaming match while also staying out of sight to keep himself safe). But…

I also hate that we only see a glimpse of the book’s cover. Like I had to pause in order to read the title. And that’s ALL they give him in the later seasons to show that he’s struggling with all of this. With Lucifer being out, with trying to raise the antichrist to not be the antichrist (which feels strangely displacing, like Jack’s himself from 9 years ago and he’s in the role of Dean but trying desperately to do a better job of making sure the kid knows he’s loved), and losing all of the same people that Dean lost but not being able to grieve for them quite yet. He has soooo much on his plate (as per ush) and the writers refuse to give him any depth about it. Any trauma response other than a clenched jaw and scared eyes. They’re just like Look! He’s reading a book about childhood trauma! Can’t you see he’s traumatized?! and then only show it for a split second.

This is not to say that that’s a bad way to cope at all, again I think it’s amazing that he is reading this book and you can see that it IS helping him - but only if you squint. Its very subtle. Like he isn’t allowed to have upsetting trauma responses anymore, he’s too old for that, he isn’t the baby anymore, Jack is. And that’s really what breaks my heart - it’s the treatment of the (100+ years of) trauma from the cage and from the wall in his mind and from losing his soul as something he should be over by them. He’s a big boy. He can read a book about it, he’ll be okay.

Anyway I’m frustrated by the lack of care for Sam’s healing throughout but especially s12 forward

#idk. i just woke up and this was my first thought #i watched 13x1-3 last night and its just /:#he’s going through SO MUCH #but he has no one at all to talk to. definitely not dean anymore.#deans so blind with rage this season it’s like he can barely look at Sam #/just this once let me be my own #/from the grave #meta?#spn #Sam Winchester #abuse trauma #childhood trauma

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autisticlancemcclain · 11 months

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Truthfully, he should have seen it coming.

He’d anticipated the pain and loneliness for the first week. No signal, Keith had said, but it won’t last too long. Lance had hung onto those words like they were the only thing holding him up from a chasm of frustration. Every longing look at his laptop came with a reminder that he could talk to Keith soon.

And then the second week passed. And the third.

Lance had rationalized it to himself. Keith has a very hectic schedule, after all. It’s not too unusual for him to miss a call, for him to be unavailable. It’s not like he has a set schedule. He gets missions and then he has to go — Lance would rather him be focused, honestly, even if it means he misses his boyfriend worse.

He’s in a weird state of limbo, then, when the call from Kolivan comes. Part of Lance felt dread from the moment the Blade pushed through the call. Another part begged any god who would listen that he was wrong. There had been so much panic and uncertainty swirling through thin, then, that he’d hardly even heard the Galran’s words, hardly heard him confirm Lance’s worst fear: Keith had gone missing. He was assumed dead.

Something cracked in Lance, then. Something wide and sharp and gaping, splitting all the way up from the base of his tailbone to the tip of his head. Something fragmented, as every part of him imploded.

Before he felt the pain, though, before his heart cracked fully in half, his brain went foggy, like he was a panicking horse with a blanket thrown over its head.

This is for your own good, murmured a voice in his head, gentle and cool as a river, and then Lance went blank. He heard his teammates’ outcries, heard the demand for answers and details that Kolivan did not have, saw the confusion and fear and panic in everyone’s expression.

But he was blank. He felt nothing. Red had dragged Blue to him, and had her blanket his mind and soul, protect him from his own destruction.

He spent the next two months increasingly numb. He felt things happening, logged them in his brain, interacted as normally as he could, but it almost felt like he was tethered on a string a few feet away from his body, like he was watching himself live from behind.

It was nauseating.

Watching the team fall apart, struggle to even interact as a group; watching everyone branch off and grow more irritable, watching Shiro crack under his own pressure and turn into someone Lance couldn’t recognise…it was difficult to watch. It felt like watching two trains approach each other at full speed only for you it was in slow motion; you knew it was coming, could see all the damage it was doing, but you were powerless to stop it.

I can’t do this anymore, he begged his lions. He felt both of their apprehension in his mind, their fear; of him splintering where he stands. He’s never been very good at handling heartbreak. He can barely handle the pain of being so far away from home, from what he knows. Losing people haunts him in ways that never leave. He knows that.

But he also knows that he is capable. He has made it this far. Grief is all-encompassing, it always is, but he has grown around the pain every time, and he will again.

This time, also, he has no choice. He is the Red Paladin of Voltron. Whether Shiro wants him or not, he is the right hand. He has a responsibility, and he can hide from it no longer.

It will hurt, Blue warns softly.

Lance closes his eyes, shuddering. His hands clutch tighter on the shirt he has of Keith’s, soft with use, no longer smelling of him but comforting anyway.

“I know,” he whispers.

Hesitation blooms from both lions, but Lance’s resolve is stronger. Nothing happens for a moment, the anticipation of the pain worse than any muted emotion he’s felt in weeks. Then, suddenly, like the blanket was ripped off his mind, he lights up with pain.

He gasps out in the shock of it — it’s more than he expected, everywhere, like months of grief is hitting him at once. Sobs bubble up his throat and explode out of him, violent in how they tear out of his throat, his mouth, and the heaving turns his stomach so greatly that he barely makes it to the bathroom before throwing up. He clutches the icy porcelain of the toilet seat, like the grip can help the splitting ache in his head, the burning of his eyes, the bitter taste overflowing his mouth.

“God, no,” he moans, and he’s not sure if he’s protesting the pain of a trillion suppressed neutrons firing at once or the abstract pain of knowing he will feel this ache every day for the rest of his life. “God, please, no.”

He’s not sure how long he sits like that. How long he suffers. Long enough that he runs out of tears, long enough that his voice grows hoarse. Both Blue and Red howl in pain inside his mind, frantic to watch him but unable to intervene. He mourns until he physically cannot mourn any longer, and falls asleep crumpled where he sits, clutching himself tightly to try and hold his pieces together.

He wakes suddenly to the castle’s blaring morning alarm, muscles cramped from their night-long tense positions and eyes burning. He straightens as carefully as he can, rising to wash his face and dress as quickly as he can manage. He’s going to be late regardless. And Shiro is going to be angry with him, and this time he’s just going to have to deal with it. The ache in him has not lessened. He just no longer has time to cater it.

He is the Paladin of the Red and Blue Lions, the Right Hand of Voltron.

He has a job to do.

———

fics in the same universe: before after

#i couldn’t get this one to fit but it’s decent so up it goes lol #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #langst #hurt no comfort #red paladin lance #blue paladin lance #lance & red #lance & blue #klangst #s5 #klance #s6 #established klance #my writing #fic #longpost

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daisiescomelate · 2 months

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my favorite au in fanfics it's soulmates au, and i couldn't help to noticed that sukuna's true form has two faces, two arms, and two legs (according to the nihongi, a very very old japanese history book where we can find the first mention of the figure of sukuna in folklore), and that description matches with the theory of soulmates given by aristophanes in the symposium by plato.

the story is told by aristophanes during a discussion this character had with other philosophers about what love is. it tells the tell of people originally being these creatures with two faces, to arms, to legs, to sets of genitals, etc, that got punished by the gods and got separated.

all quotes are fragment of symposium from here: the internet archive classics

why they were a threat ergo they got punished:

"Terrible was their might and strength, and the thoughts of their hearts were great, and they made an attack upon the gods; of them is told the tale of Otys and Ephialtes who, as Homer says, dared to scale heaven, and would have laid hands upon the gods. Doubt reigned in the celestial councils. Should they kill them and annihilate the race with thunderbolts, as they had done the giants, then there would be an end of the sacrifices and worship which men offered to them; but, on the other hand, the gods could not suffer their insolence to be unrestrained."

so zeus split them in half

"At last, after a good deal of reflection, Zeus discovered a way. He said: "Methinks I have a plan which will humble their pride and improve their manners; men shall continue to exist, but I will cut them in two and then they will be diminished in strength and increased in numbers; this will have the advantage of making them more profitable to us. They shall walk upright on two legs, and if they continue insolent and will not be quiet, I will split them again and they shall hop about on a single leg." He spoke and cut men in two, like a sorb-apple which is halved for pickling, or as you might divide an egg with a hair; and as he cut them one after another, he bade Apollo give the face and the half of the neck a turn in order that the man might contemplate the section of himself: he would thus learn a lesson of humility."

and they are cursed to need each other, look for each other

"And when one of them meets with his other half, the actual half of himself, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another sort, the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy, and would not be out of the other's sight, as I may say, even for a moment: these are the people who pass their whole lives together; yet they could not explain what they desire of one another. For the intense yearning which each of them has towards the other does not appear to be the desire of lover's intercourse, but of something else which the soul of either evidently desires and cannot tell, and of which she has only a dark and doubtful presentiment."

so i keep thinking about a story where sukuna is defeated and sealed, losing his true form because a part of his soul dispersed and escaped somewhere as the other half of him was being fragmented and put into fingers. if i don't remember wrong, according to folklore sukuna didn't obediently follow the commands of an emperor and tended to cause ruckus and because of that said emperor send someone to execute him, so it'll add up with the idea of infuriating a god because they consider him a threat because of his strength.

then a thousand years later he strangely fits perfectly inside this boy, making him the perfect vessel for some unknwon reason, a boy that looks almost exactly like him for some other strange reason.

one day, bored out of his mind, sukuna is walking around yuuji's mind and stumbles across images, memories, more than a thousand years old that look so familiar to him. he realizes that yuuji is the part of his soul he lost back then, understanding that they are both the same but also very distinct individuals since this fragment of his soul had being apart from him for so long and had grown and develop on its own.

this idea also comes from some other thing i read about the original sukuna that said that maybe he came to be a symbol of twins or brothers from ancient history, and the theory that maybe sukuna represented actually two brothers (kagosaka no miko and oshikuma no miko) that were sons of an emperor, which would go pretty well with a platonic soulmates au.

ps. the way aristophanes describes one of this types of creatures (because there were three types: woman+woman, man+man, and then this third one) that looks like two people into one is like a third genre he called "androgynous" (i don't think it's necesserily woman+man but something different that doesn't exist anymore according to him, idk), that has both female and male characteristics, and in the lights that we found out sukuna lactates and he might be pregnant now, i think it fits perfectly to what his true form shows to be now in the manga.

ps2. i'm not a philosopher, i actually don't know what i'm talking about, just very passionate about the topic of soulmates in general.

#jjk #fanfiction #ryomen sukuna #soulmates #yuuji itadori #sukuna x yuuji #plato #soulmate au #yuuji #sukuna

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goyaagogo · 2 years

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I’ll Be Seeing You (George Luz x OFC)

wow wow wow part 5 so soon? Yes because my ADHD meds were working for once, weeee...

Chapter 10 has smut so be warned, and here are the previous parts as well.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Also I listened to this song on repeat while writing the scene, phew it just gets me GOING.

Chapter 9-

The moment Simone awoke, before she even opened her eyes, she could feel the throbbing pain in her arm. It took her a moment to remember what happened— Lucien lying on the floor of the pharmacy, sprinting through the streets of Losange, the moment she was shot. She groaned and foolishly tried to move her left arm.

“Try not to move too much.” she heard a familiar voice.

When she finally opened her eyes, she saw Ron sitting beside her.

“Where am I?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

“CP."

“What time is it?”

“Nearly 2100.”

She had been out all day, it had been only 7:00 when they left CP this morning.

“Is my shoulder okay?”

“Doc Roe said you should heal up just fine. You were lucky, it was just a bullet fragment, ricocheted off of a building."

"Can I still say I was shot?" Simone asked playfully.

"I won't tell anyone otherwise." he said with a small smile, but she noticed tears that had welled up in his eyes.

"What's wrong?"

Ron shook his head and leaned forward towards her, "nothing- nothing's wrong at all. I was just worried about you."

"I'm fine Ron, like you said, it was just a bullet fragment. Nothing too serious."

He gave another small smile that didn't reach his eyes, and he turned from her gaze, shifting in his chair. Simone could tell he wanted to say more.

"Ron?" she asked, looking up at him in the dim light of the tent. He looked at Simone, their gazes meeting with an intensity that almost took her breath away. He looked tired, but still so handsome with his soulful hazel eyes and the scruffy shadow of a beard, with his hair slightly curling and hanging just above his eye.

At once, he leaned down and kissed her-- a kiss full of longing and unsaid words, of passion and hope. He lingered above her for just a moment before sitting back up, his hands clasped together with his elbows on his knees, he looked deep in thought and she could see his shoulders moving with deep breaths.

Simone's heart was beating fast, and she could feel her cheeks reddening. He opened his mouth as if to speak but hesitated, before gathering the courage to continue, "Simone, I was so scared of losing you today. It's the scaredest I've been in this whole war, frankly. I... I think I'm falling for you. No, I know I am."

Suddenly the shoulder pain was the farthest thing from her mind. She couldn't deny how she felt last night, the butterflies she felt when he said he had come to see her. But when she thought of love, of falling in love-- she thought of George. The night they shared, the way he looked at her, the way she knew she looked at him-- it was undeniable.

"Ron..." she whispered, tears coming to her eyes, her heart feeling like it would split into two at any moment.

Simone could see the barely detectable change in Ron's countenance, the split second he went from hope to hopelessness.

He cleared his throat and sat up, "you don't have to say anything." His voice sounded cold and distant.

"No, please-- I need to tell you. I have feelings for you, Ron. When you said you had come to see me last night, it made me happy, it really did, but..."

"There's someone else?" he asked, finishing her sentiment.Simone closed her eyes and nodded, feeling tears slip out.

"I'm sorry, Ron..." she whispered, finally meeting his gaze.

"Don't be sorry, Simone..." Ron said as he grasped her hand in his, "I just hope George knows how lucky he is..."

They exchanged an amiable smile before Ron stood up and pulled on his coat and headed towards the exit.

He turned to face her once more, "Doc says you can go home tomorrow. In the meantime, we'll get you something to eat."

She nodded in thanks, suddenly feeling sleepy again, letting her head fall back down to the pillow. Her heart was still beating so fast and she tried to steady her breathing. Her mind was flooded with thoughts of George. Now that she had let her feelings be known to Ron, the secret no longer belonged to her heart-- it was out in the open, it was undeniable now.

Chapter 10-

The night passed slowly and by the time the sun rose, Simone was more than ready to go home. She was still emotionally reeling from Ron's confession and she had spent the whole night thinking of George, wondering if he was okay. He hadn't come to visit her, but then again, no one did-- except Roe to check on her, and she was too embarrassed to ask after him. There was gunfire throughout the night, sometimes sporadic but at other times it seemed to go on forever. She seemed to wince at every shot, thinking of George injured or worse. It was nearing noon when Roe gave her his blessing to go home, making her promise to keep the sling on and to be patient with healing.

Dick had insisted someone walk her home, and she was disappointed to see Malarkey chosen. Her eyes searched CP for a glimpse of George, but he was nowhere to be seen.

It was when she had finally reached home and shut the door behind her that she collapsed into tears.

She cried for Lucien, his life barely begun before it was snuffed out, for the pain she was in, for the pain she knew she caused Ron; she cried bitter tears for this war that had stolen her youth and the future she had envisioned for herself; she cried for the lives that had been taken, for all the lives that would be taken before this war saw its end.

She cried for anything and everything, and when she finally stopped, her body crumbled on the floor, she felt numb and hollow. Eventually Simone picked herself up off the floor, a difficult task now, with her arm out of commission, and went to her bedroom.

The blackout curtains were still drawn and she undressed in the dark, removing the sling before painfully removing the shirt that Eugene had given her, and cradled her arm as she climbed into bed.

She stared up at the ceiling in the darkened room and reached over to where George had slept that night and thought of him. She thought of his smile— those lips that kissed her so tenderly and expertly. She ached with desire to be with him, to hold him close again. Simone pulled the pillow in against her chest and fell into a deep sleep as soon as she closed her eyes.

_______________

When Simone awoke it was already evening, and even though she was still incredibly groggy, she pulled herself out of bed, bathed and got dressed in fresh clothes.

Her arm ached awfully and her whole body felt stiff as she made her way downstairs, where she took some meds that Roe insisted she take back with her. It wasn't much longer before she heard the familiar knock.

Instantly her heart quickened and she opened the door to see George on her stoop.

Before Simone could say anything George exclaimed, "Holy shit, you did get shot!"

Simone laughed, a foreign feeling after the events of the past couple days. "Not really," Simone replied as she followed him into the kitchen, "it was just a fragment, Ron said the bullet ricocheted off a building."

Immediately she regretted saying Ron's name, she could see George's countenance drop.

“Right… just a fragment…” George said, his gaze dropping from her.

Simone felt a distance growing that was reflected in the uncomfortable silence settled between them.

George cleared his throat, “Well I’m glad you’re alright, you had me worried there.” “

Roe said I’ll heal up fine. Do you want some brandy?”

“No, I’m fine. I assume the doors and windows are locked?”

Simone was confused as to why he was acting so distant. He didn’t seem angry or upset, just utterly uninterested.

“Is everything alright, George?”

He gave a tight lipped smile, “Simone, I…”

George hesitated for a moment and she could see he was trying to find the right words to say. Simone could feel a tight knot of anxiety begin to form in her stomach.

“I know about you and Ron—“

“What about me and Ron? What are you talking about?” Simone interrupted, her voice cracking with emotion.

“I saw you two in the tent at CP. I wasn’t spying, I swear— I just came to visit you, to see how you were. I was so worried when I heard you had been injured… and as I was about to walk in, I saw him kiss you. And it’s okay Simone, I just want you to be happy. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Simone could feel her heart breaking for George, and she understood now why he was being so distant.

“George, there’s nothing between Ron and I. Yes he kissed me, but I didn’t kiss him. He knows my heart belongs to you.”

Simone walked over to George and placed a hand on his cheek, “I’m yours, George…only yours.” His deep brown eyes softened as he gazed into Simone’s.

She could feel her heart beat faster and faster as he grasped her face between his hands and kissed her deeply, passionately. Simone could hardly catch her breath between kisses as George backed her up till she felt the oak table behind her.

His hands moved quickly to undo his belt before pulling Simone’s dress up around her waist and hoisting her onto the edge of the table.

She pulled him in closer, her hands gripping the collar of his OD’s as his lips trailed her neck with greedy kisses. George’s hands found their way to her underwear and pulled them down hastily, the delicate fabric hanging carelessly by her ankle.

Simone moaned into his mouth as he gently ran two fingers between her folds.

“You’re so wet for me.” George whispered into her ear, his voice low and raspy with desire.

“Only for you…” Simone whispered breathlessly back.

She reached down and gently grasped his hard cock and began stroking him slowly. She pulled away from his kiss and watched him, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly slack.

With her free hand she pulled him in for another kiss and guided his cock to her soaked entrance.

George entered her slowly, eliciting sighs from both of them. She could feel herself stretch to accommodate his cock, and with each thrust he went deeper, filling her out entirely.

Simone wrapped her legs around his waist pulling him in even closer— she felt she could never be as close to him as she wanted to be.

As George’s climax loomed his thrusts grew more shallow and hurried, his breathing ragged.

“Come for me George.” Simone whispered as she felt George’s body tense, his brow furrowed in deep unbridled pleasure.

He cried out as he came, spilling into her with a final thrust. Simone held George as he came down from the high, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

He pulled away from the curve of her neck where his head has rested, sweat beaded his brow and his hair hanging lazily over his eyes.

Simone thought she had never seen someone more beautiful than George was to her right now. She wanted to stay in this moment with him forever.

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #george luz x ofc #george luz fanfic #george luz imagine #george luz #ron speirs #ron speirs imagine #bob #malarkey

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lemoncakedesign · 2 years

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Time After Time prompt for Leather and Lace :) I wanna know how that date went!

Oh, that's fun! I had a good time writing this. Nothing but fluff :D

They don’t get to the date for a few weeks. First Pike has a wedding he has to make arrangements for—with Valliant on vacation—and then Ryne gets sicker than a dog and Thancred doesn’t want to leave her with a babysitter. After that, it’s Mother’s Day, and then the shop does their Flash Week, and it builds and builds until it’s been a month since Thancred asked Pike out, and he feels like an ass.

It’s not like they haven’t seen each other—on Valliant’s vacation, Pike was working nights, which meant Thancred could come see him and occasionally bring him a coffee. Plus, Thancred’s reduced his workload as an artist to handle more shop admin, after hiring a new artist (Alisaie is a little spitfire), and slyly mentioned to Pike that he was welcome to keep Thancred company while he’s doing paperwork. Thancred doesn’t get much done when Pike does come over. He finds he doesn’t mind.

(The time Pike decided to lift up his shirt and pull down his pants to show off the little bird tattooed on his hip lives rent-free in Thancred’s mind.)

But finally, finally, they get to the date. Thancred picks Pike up at 7 on the dot (no small feat for a single father, even when his daughter practically shoved him out the door with no jacket and shoes).

“I thought about bringing flowers,” Thancred says, as they walk to his car. “But I’d have to buy them from you or the grocery store, and I doubt that would be a nice gift. I’ll buy your first drink instead.”

Pike laughs, and Thancred thinks oh. Because he’s practically sparkling in the starlight, the purple of his eyes somehow brighter with it. He’s gorgeous when he smiles. And his laugh. Thancred wants to taste it, wants to kiss the sound out of his mouth and hold it against his soul forever.

“You alright?” Pike asks, tilting his head, and the way his curls fall softly over his shoulder do funny things to Thancred’s heart. “You’re staring.”

Thancred jolts. “Well, with a view like this…” He winks, and Pike laughs again.

They get dinner. They talk about…everything. Sometimes Thancred swears he’s losing track of his thought, and Pike will finish it effortlessly. They mesh well on everything important, and the few things they disagree on Thancred looks forward to teasing and debating over for weeks to come. They get so deep into debating the meaning of a song that their server has to clear her throat several times just to get them to pay.

They agree to split it (“I’ll pay, Pike, since I asked you out—” “Technically, your daughter asked me out for you, and I doubt her allowance could cover this.”), and then there’s a moment of hesitation, like they both don’t know what to do.

“Do you want to walk down to the lake?” Pike asks. “If you don’t need to get back to Ryne, that is.”

“She’s in good hands,” Thancred says, relieved. He didn’t want this to be over.

The breeze off the lakefront is cool, and Pike tucks himself into Thancred with a shiver. “I should know to bring a jacket with this blouse,” he says, plucking at his shirt, “but it ruins the silhouette.”

Thancred slides his arm around Pike’s shoulders, grateful for the excuse to get closer. “It does look great on you. Though it’d look better—”

“If the next words out of your mouth are ‘on my floor,’ I’m walking home,” Pike threatens, and Thancred snorts. “I’ve heard that line far too many times to appreciate it.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Thancred replies. “I couldn’t resist.”

“I’m sure.” Pike elbows him.

Thancred turns to face him, and the way the moon reflects off the water makes Pike look angelic. Otherworldly. He’s beautiful, and Thancred has known this, but he’s struck with it like a hammer. “Pike, can I—”

Pike reaches up and guides Thancred into a kiss.

It’s perfect. It shouldn’t be, but it is. Thancred’s hands span Pike’s waist and grip, and Pike’s hand on his face curves around to cup his neck, pulling Thancred deeper into the kiss. They move in sync, like two old lovers, and Thancred never wants the moment to end.

When they do pull away, Thancred leans his forehead against Pike’s. “Wow,” he says, and Pike giggles a little. “That was—wow.”

“So eloquent,” Pike jokes. His hand is still around Thancred’s neck, and he’s a bit flushed. “But I agree. Wow.”

Thancred kisses him again. And again, and again, until Pike shivers himself out of the last one. Thancred huffs a laugh at the put out expression on Pike’s face. “We should head back to the car. I’d rather not have my boyfriend be a popsicle.”

Pike blinks at him. “Boyfriend?”

“Ah,” Thancred stammers. “I mean—you don’t have to, I know we said we’d take things slow, but—”

“I’d like to be your boyfriend,” Pike says, and relief floods through Thancred’s system. “I still want to go slow. But I like you, Thancred. A lot.”

“Well, that’s good,” Thancred replies. “Because I like you a lot, too. Gods, I feel like a middle schooler.”

“Me too.” Pike shivers again. “Okay, car.”

Thancred drops him off at midnight. He doesn’t go in—not today. There’s time enough for that later. And he has someone to report how things went at home (he knows better than to assume Ryne hasn’t cajoled her babysitter into letting her stay up). But he does get another kiss goodbye. He can’t really complain.

#ffxiv fic #ffxiv #my writing #almost (sweet music)#lilbittymonster

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chonnyjashh · 5 months

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DARK LORE WARNING! CHONNY JASH AU.

This will be a post regarding what caused their split... AKA, the childhood abuse.

As Good Day is the song that best explains it, I will mostly be using it to explain.

Its name I hate to call it

None of them like referring to their father as "dad" or "father." They instead simply refer to him with an emphasized "him".

It's something. I'm suffering.

Pretty self explanatory.

Instead it creeps at night and sneaks on in and festers while you sleep.

This... Is where shit gets dark. Their father was an addict- A severely sick, perverted one. While Addie (The child) slept, he would sneak into the room and try to abuse them in secret. They would pretend to sleep, as the first time it happened, and they tried to scramble away and scream for help, it led to them being beaten badly- Before the same thing that would have happened if they stayed quiet was done.

But you know this song is not about a no or yes or why

Addie was not given a choice in what their father did to them, no matter the reason they gave him— Though they shouldn't have had to give a reason to begin with, as he should have kept his hands off of them.

What's really what I say is that about a resignated sigh.

... Once again, pretty self explanitory. They would just stay put, resigning themselves to what was happening— Accepting it as fate, and unavoidable pain.

So come along, I think I'm done, I think we're done, yes this is done- The only question's whether it will be with pills or with a gun.

At the age of 10, Addie first considered suicide— However, they could not decide on a method, and spent so long deciding that the urge passed. They did not, in fact, attempt to take their own life in that moment.

You want me to sing? Fine.

Once again, they were simply accepting it— But at this point, they stopped pretending to sleep— Hoping that if they put up an indifferent, if disgusted appearance, he would lose interest. This backfired, leading to more physical abuse.

Looking through glazed eyes helps you to realize nothing's gone right in your life. The meds aren't that helpful, it's hard to feel half full, when all you feel's anger and spite.

At the age of 15, Addie first tries some of their father's drugs- He told them it'd make them numb, and they wanted nothing more than to feel empty for once, instead of the constant waves of far too much emotion they had been plagued with due to him. It backfires horribly, and they simply end up thinking unendingly about how horrifically wrong their life has gone. This leads to an uncontrollable rage, in which they physically attack their father for lying to them about the drugs- Which only made it all worse.

I thought you knew I knew 'bout why I want to die and say goodbye- I wanted you to know, I thought you knew but why, and by, and why

This line is Mind and Soul, telling Heart, as he starts to realize just why their father was banned from their life- That they had lashed out because they thought he knew. In their strange, messed up way, this was an apology.

Fine, I'll play us the happy version.

This is Heart, finally explaining what he THOUGHT their father had done to get barred.

Free from sadness and perversion.

Heart did not know of the sadness and perversion- Only of the alcohol and drug use. He thought their father was banned for being an addict. In this line, he is beginning to have flashbacks of the truth.

Eyes be blocked from devastation

This line references the fact that, whilst the abuse was happening, Heart was always sheltered. He was barred from being in control in these moments due to an instinctual knowledge he would be unable to keep still and cope with it, which would get them severely beaten and possibly killed.

All to see is self-elation

This is a flashback of one of the things Mind accused Heart of during the big fight— Of being prideful, and thinking he knew better, to go against them to see their father.

Birds and bees and television

Another deeply dark thing. They were forced, by their father, to watch NSFW content from a very young age- Content they were too young to even recognize.

Cardboard boxes, x-ray vision

Sometimes, Addie would hide in boxes or furniture when their father would come home drunk and angrily. X-Ray vision, is unfortunately referring to the way he would stare at them in a perverted way— As if trying to see through their clothes.

You don't want to see the truth, what's convenient will do

Another flashback to things Mind screamed at Heart, thinking he was just in denial/justifying things to himself.

Telephones and silly games

Mind's view of what Heart was doing, being on the phone with their father- As their conversations were extremely lighthearted and chill.

Periods and lots and lots of question marks

... A lot of things regarding their body were NOT explained— The abuse stopped around the time they first started getting periods.

So..... Yeah. That's the end of the explination.

KEEP IN MIND— This is an AU, and the character themselves is a person with DID. Extreme childhood abuse is kind of required to have said disorder- I say that as someone who went through ritualistic CSA abuse, which led to me being a system myself. This is not a glorification, making light, or joking around about these issues—

Jokes actually should not be made regarding this section of the backstory. It's most likely the most serious post I'll ever make. But, as I play these characters frequently online... It is a necessary backstory post. Here's to hoping I don't get banned for fictional writing about a topic I myself have dealt with!

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

— falling out of love with gojo satoru

warnings: angst, mentions of sexual content, cursing

masterlist !

when you fell in love with gojo satoru, your heart exploded like a firework.

you still remember that moment very vividly at the back of your head. it was new year’s, and you two were drunk on both liquor and the feeling of having the other by your side. it was a tough year – as the norm was for jujutsu sorcerers – but you both made it out alive.

alive couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt that day.

satoru has always been the person who stuck by your side through thick and thin like how you were the one who always went against the higher-ups when they tried to limit his capabilities. you should’ve known then, that the higher ups were just the beginning. that when once you thought their oppression for satoru’s plans were nothing but microscopical compared to the barrier his family had placed between the both of you.

they didn’t like you.

he was a gojo, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, while you were...well, you.

you weren’t really anyone special or better than anyone. your technique was decent and had a lot more drawbacks than advantages that you had to improve your physical abilities instead to not be deemed a total useless tool.

satoru never saw you that way. to him, he admired you almost as equally as he cherished his best friend, suguru, so much so that the three of you become the best of friends in the blink of an eye. the more time you spent together, whether alone or with others, it felt like your world just hyper focused or snapped into tunnel vision, zeroing on no one else but the white-haired man whose smile was brighter than any other in the sky.

when he told you he loved you, you couldn’t distinguish which ones were the exploding new year fireworks or the drumming of your heart. you stared up at him then, lips falling open as you released a tiny breath of air, and satoru laughed. he actually laughed.

you wanted to tease him, to punch him even though you couldn’t really ever touch him just to get over the fact he had you losing your composure with eyes glossing over. “well,” he taunted then, one shoulder lifting up lazily. “aren’t you gonna say anything? if you feel the same way, now’s the best time to tell me. we can end the year as friends and start another one as-”

satoru never got to finish his sentence. you had jumped into his arms faster than the speed of light, hands yanking down his yukata to pull him towards you, your lips slamming on his almost greedily.

he didn’t mind. he never did.

for once, it felt as if his infinity never existed. you had both spent the night tangled under the sheets, your name rasped from his lips like a prayer. the way you kneeled for him just moments later with your eyes fervently closed made him feel like he’s the one being worshipped instead, and in a way, it was. you loved him – way too much that you no longer cared how much it would hurt the day after when he never gave you a break and kept you pulled closer to him.

you loved him – way too much that you no longer cared how much it would hurt if ever the time came that you no longer felt the same.

contrary to how you fell for him, you fell out of love with your best friend quietly. your shared apartment would still be filled with his annoying mannerism of dragging his feet over the floor as he walked, always groaning and complaining that he was hungry but never really bothered to cook anything for himself.

it felt a lot like living with a child where you were his mother, but in that sense, satoru hated it whenever you worried for him.

“you’re not my mother, stop telling me what to do!”

“stop being so arrogant, satoru!” you pointed to the barely conscious child in his arms, the first year student still barely breathing because satoru had gone out of his way again and brought yuuji while he fought a special grade curse. “you may be strong, but not everyone around you is capable of handling what you can! stop dragging people into your mess and start using your goddamn brain for once!”

“you don’t know anything, so shut the hell up.”

you scoffed, hands placed on your hip while you blinked back the angry tears that threatened to fell. you worried for yuuji, you really did, but in reality, you just couldn’t handle seeing gojo pushing himself to his limits and coming back home more wounded than the night before.

“i’m just worried for you, satoru. i don’t want you getting hurt.”

“i’m the strongest,” was all he said – was what he always kept saying. “i’m not going to get hurt.”

“you may not,” you reply stiffly, “but what about me? don’t you think about me? don’t you think about how much it hurts me to see you this way?”

you told yourself you hated him. you hated how arrogant he got. it was good he was confident of his abilities and prided himself of such an honourable title, but satoru was human. he was bound to fall at some point.

eventually, you got too tired.

it was too tiring to keep waiting for him to come home unscathed. you were assigned different missions all the time. satoru would always be working overseas while you mostly helped train the kids and exorcised curses from time to time; no missions that were as dangerous as his.

in the dead of the night, when you were turned away from him in your bed that had already gotten so cold from his usual absence, satoru would slip beside you as silently as he could. the morning afterwards would always be the same: good morning, did you sleep well? he knew the answer. he knew you never slept well without him, but he’d ask just to be nice, and it wouldn’t take too long before you’re both late to work because he missed you too much from being away all the time that he wanted to feel you clamp around him one more time.

it was tiring. too tiring.

that heavy weight never left your shoulders. you cried yourself to sleep far too much that you’d lost count – until you reached a point you just felt nothing. the bed no longer felt cold – just empty. his side always remained untouched, his chair in the dining table barely used, and you’ve gotten so used of washing only your plate and utensils that you wondered if satoru had ever been there.

you wondered if it was a coping mechanism; that maybe you could just no longer handle the pain of having to worry about him every damn night and he’d never care enough to at least be a little more careful, and this was why you just stopped missing him, which was why you just started enjoying the silence in your apartment a little bit more than you should.

but if it was a coping mechanism...why did you feel a lot freer and happier in his absence? instead of it feeling like you were supposed to be distracted, you felt awakened. alive.

alive in the same way he told you he loved you while the skies painted different hues of red, blue, green, and yellow in the darkness that bore witness to your souls connecting that night – the same sky that was now patiently watching as your souls split in half and formed itself whole all over again.

contrary to how you fell for him, you fell out of love with your best friend quietly.

there was no longer someone singing made up songs in the shower. there would no longer be that sound of an annoying loud kiss down the bride of your neck or the smacking of his palm on your ass when he wanted to piss you off.

you fell out of love him so silently that when he crawled next to you that night, you didn’t even hear him. and for the first time in a long time, you slept well the moment he left before the sun stretched its wings across the horizon. when you were greeted by nothing but your own pair of slippers outside your bedroom and not even a post it note to tell you he’d already left for work, a smile tugged on your face.

you made your breakfast in peace. satoru no longer dared to come back home if he was injured because he knew you wouldn’t care enough to fix him up.

although of course you would, but nothing ever beats in your heart for him anymore when you dab the disinfectant across his cut lips. satoru would catch your wrist then to tug you to him slowly, empty eyes staring back at his sky blue ones.

“thank you. for patching me up.”

“you’re welcome,” you’d smile, climbing off his lap while closing the first aid-kit. “go get changed. i’ll cook something up for you.”

it was a silent, empty routine. satoru would thank you for fixing him up because he was never every sorry for worrying you. he’d keep being reckless again and again until he reached a point you no longer cared for him enough to say goodbye to him with a kiss and the slow, tender promise of be safe – i’ll wait for you to come home.

you still kiss him – more out of habit than anything – but you’ve changed.

i’ll see you tonight.

it was empty, silent, completely different from the fireworks he’d ignited within you when he told you he loved you. satoru wasn’t dumb, and he didn’t need his six eyes to see that you’ve grown too comfortable over the large space between you and him between the sofa, almost as if him being away was what felt home for you.

he was never a confrontational man; he hated each waking moment that lead to this, but he had to do it. he needed to do it – to set you both free.

when the commercials started playing, satoru lowered the volume down, voice low and serious as he turned to you. you easily picked up on the sudden tension in the room – the first thing you’ve felt ever since you’ve fallen out of love with him – yet nothing changed. when satoru sighed, your heart didn’t ache.

“well,” he chuckled nervously as he leant back to his side, “things have changed, don’t you think?”

“yes.” there was no point denying it. you knew it – he felt it.

“what do we do now?”

you had no answer to his question. despite the fact you no longer looked at him the same way, not once had it crossed your mind to leave your apartment. not because you wanted to hold on as much as possible to whatever memories you shared under this roof, but simply because you didn’t know where else to go.

it wasn’t like it made a difference anyway. satoru barely came home, and when he did, he made his presence as scarce as possible that you could no longer tell what difference it would make if he was here or not.

“i don’t know,” you admitted, knees hugged to your chest. “what do you want to do?”

his answer came in the form of opened doors. you leant against the doorframe, watching as nanami and even yuuji came to help satoru move his stuff out of the apartment. he found a better place somewhere in the upstate, somewhere much closer to bars and clubs – which you know he thoroughly enjoyed it prior to meeting you – and your mind immediately went back to the time you and satoru first moved in.

it proved to be a difficult task. you both wanted to move in and finish unpacking as soon as possible, but satoru was too eager to christen each part and corner of the house that you both ended up making more mess.

nights spent tucked into each other because the heater was broken and you were both too tired to sleep anywhere except the uncomfortable mattress played like a broken record in your mind. satoru’s laughter echoed when nanami complained that he should stop spending money on souvenirs so he could’ve hired professionals to help him move out instead, your head snapping up at the source of that carefree, sweet laugher that always had butterflies erupting in your stomach.

as if feeling your gaze on him, satoru’s eyes flitted to where you stood. when he smiled, you could tell each genuine apology rang behind it – all the words he never got to say staying like a broken glass that kept cutting him over and over again.

he loved you. he still loves you.

and maybe, tucked away in the deepest parts of your heart that no longer felt fond of him the same way it did before, still held a little compassion enough for this man you once wanted to spend your life with.

you weren’t unkind. you didn’t need to love someone to know when to forgive them, but just for this moment, just for him, you could pretend to for one last time.

smiling up at him with your eyes crinkled and the last bits of adoration for everything about him gleamed through your lashes just before it slipped away into nothingness. it was enough. it was enough for satoru to know he’d been forgiven, and it was enough for him to finally set you free.

the next time you saw him at school, there were no longer fireworks.

your heart was at peace.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x reader angst #gojo x reader smut #gojo-satoru-x-reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo satoru x reader angst #gojo x reader imagines #gojo x reader drabbles #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru

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prelovednikaidou · 3 years

Text

corrupt; draken, ken ryuguji [01]

Summary:

In which you met the man of your past, but he didn't come back to remind you of the bitter break-up. Draken had one thing in mind and it was to never let you leave his side ever again. Distance made the heart grow fonder but he'd rather let you spend the rest of your life hating him if it meant you'd never leave his sight.

"I don't wish you well when you ain't with me, I want you crying."

Warning:

mention of suicide, oral receiving (reader),

a/n: taglist are open up to 10 users! comment '☁️'

Word count: 2.1k

series masterlist

[01: jealousy]

Draken wanted to take you away.

The curves of your spine, flowing down to the slope of your well-rounded bottom flesh, he watched the symmetrical dimple right above your butt - mocking him that those precious intimate spots were no longer his possession to own.

It wasn't only him who shared the same thought; everyone in this crowded room had their eyes glued on you. As if you were holding those guests captive, you felt immense pressure on your feet and thighs, quivered before you wrapped your leg around the shining pole.

Spinning, spinning, spinning.

Those blinding lights showered your sweating figure in all fairness, the sound of Abel's voice had long dimmed down, it meant that your show was done. It was silent in a minute,

lifting your face - your lips curled into a hunting smile and the room soared with cheers, crumpled money tossed across the stage, but your sense of content was suppressed by the overwhelming tension.

A pair of black pupils were starring at you - pinning you to where you stood. He was among the crowd, all in his glory without care but you. You felt something burst inside your chest, unable to tear your focus from him.

This longing for him is toxic.

Flashes of memories where those sober eyes bore into yours when he pumped his fat cock into your tight cunt until his thick cum over spilled, the same eyes that once shone with so much love but turned cold.

"Dollface!"

A shout from backstage startled you from your daze, another coworker came up and escorted you down, assisting you to take off the painful high heels.

"What's with you?" She threw a curious stare your way.

You still couldn't wrap your mind. He was there. Flesh and soul, presented in front of you. It was a brief eye contact but it was enough. Enough to tell you that he was coming back for you.

It had been years since the two of you chose to split up, making your paths without each other's companion.

"I, I've got to go. I forgot that I locked the windows, my cat's probably waiting for me. He's been out for 3 days so he's starving I think. Y'all can continue without me,"

You stood but your knees turned weak at the sudden arrival of him, standing by the door. A few steps taken back, you lost all rationality to stay calm because your heart thumped loudly.

Standing tall on his 6' ft, athletic and young Draken was nowhere to be seen but replaced - with a mature adult man that induced everything he carried into lust.

The robust body looked incredibly fit, lean, and you could see the strong outlines of his defined chest and abdominal muscles from the black shirt. If it was years ago, those leather jackets wouldn't suit him - he'd look like those up-start wannabe gangsters.

But it was different now. It clung to his broad shoulders perfectly, he wasn't as cheap as those local pranksters. The dark jeans also did little job in hiding his long legs. He was indeed a member of a gang; eerie and cruel - but he had never look this good that you want to fuck.

Draken's presence was enough to brush away every man in the room that you belonged to him. Your little admirers couldn't even look at him in the eyes, let alone make up a fight.

They left with a strong sense of defeat; no wonder you never once accept any confessions, turned out you have such a man waiting.

"Why is he here? This area is off-limits. Only staff is allowed. Naoki, guide him out." You forced yourself to mutter those words, uncaring to look at him with your back facing him.

Naoki sighed, this man literally slipped $750 under the table just to meet you. Those incompetent flies who claimed to love you didn't even spare this much effort. She only signaled him to step in before she whispered to you,

"Remember the guy I told you? The one that booked a whole session for your private room? He's that guy. It's just that he arrived a little early than the arranged meeting but it'll be great if you can build a connection with him."

You glared back, "Then send him back. We still have a week before that, right? I'm tired. I can't keep up with this," You pushed off her hand from your shoulder, began to take off your wig. His eyes were still the same; always undressing you naked.

Naoki could only grit her teeth, the money already landed in her pocket. What if he asked it back? She can't let such a great deal slip so she greeted him,

"She's a bit tired from the recent show. How about we push this to tomorrow? She's got free time on her hand to rest too." At least, this would do, right?

"If I have so much time on my hands, I wouldn't have come a week early. So you guess it yourself." His voice has changed too. It was an octave lower, you immediately rubbed your thighs together before you waved a hand.

"Haaa... leave us, Naoki. But I need you to go to my house. I wasn't joking about what I said earlier."

Naoki hurriedly nodded, clutching to her pocket before her eyes warily darted from Draken to you. Is this a couple feud? She noted in her head that she'd help this guy soon in the future - who doesn't want easy money?

"Okay, I will. Sir...? Err.. hope you have a pleasant chat with Dollface. I will excuse myself then ." The hindrance in Draken's eyes finally left the room, the door closed in a thump and the subtle tension thickened.

He didn't say anything, only leaned his body by the door as he watched you wiped off your makeup. This was his morning view back when you were still wet behind ears about pole dancing. You'd come back at the crack of drawn and he'd already been out to his workshop.

"Dollface."

Stubborn like a little cat, your doe eyes didn't look up from your make-up bag and he could see through your act to be so busy. He loved how feisty you've become after years. It eased his heart that you could chase off those little shit.

"It suits you, [Y/N]. Face so pretty like a doll. Make one's heart itch to keep around. But I wonder why the name sounds so familiar."

"State your business. I'm heading home straight after this so don't expect a lap dance or something."

"Then that's the plan. I'll drive you home, eh?"

That damn 'eh'. He picked up your habit too well that the time he spent with you shaped him into copying your habit. It sounded cute but your heart still couldn't forgive him. Let him suffer a little.

"Don't need to. My boyfriend is great at doing his job. So do me a favor and let me rest quickly, how about that?"

Now, you were looking at him through the mirror. It was just too hard for you to muster yourself to face him directly. Draken didn't seem shaken. He stood straightly, you clenched your thighs tighter.

"Have I ever been quick in everything when I'm with you, [Y/N]?" His towering figure gawked over your smaller frame - casting his shadow over you as his sharp facial features caught your attention.

"Can't remember. Maybe? Because I said it just now almost like a reflex." You replied, not backing down but instead, squaring up to him that your ample breasts brushed against his torso.

His cologne didn't smell like the tacky, cheap body spray he used to own. This one smelled so expensive, alienated your memory of his familiar scent.

"Now you're getting older, your memory is getting rusty, dollface. Should I put on a play and see if you can call anything in mind?" You felt your breath became heavier but he didn't let you lose your focus yet.

Your chin was tugged upwards, the shadow of his cap cast upon his face and you remembered now; it was his eyes. Because he wasn't vocal about his feelings, you could understand everything from his eyes.

"You've grown softer, Draken. I almost threw up listening to you talk like this. What, are you changing jobs now? Don't tell me you went from a gangster to a con artist."

No, you were lying to yourself. Draken didn't change but improved. Change can be something bad but he never did anything that would bring him down. He just got better.

And it was true when the velvety touch on your beating pulse suddenly moved to your lips before he squished your cheeks in his hand.

"Fucking hot as hell but so damn annoying." He laughed, the light from his eyes never return, only replaced by a wicked glint.

He wanted to take you to his place, fuck you in his bed until you couldn't walk properly so he'd have more reasons to keep you at his place. He wanted to swallow you whole and he barely even started but why was it so damn hard to have you?

"Don't dare to think of anything nasty. You might not care about commitment in a relationship, but I do. So take your hands off me, Draken."

"Kenie. It's Kenie for you."

Your lips were so plump and wet, his other arm wrapped around your waist - hoisting you up to his body before he leaned by the dresser.

You shrieked when his scalding hot palm touched your naked back and as he untied the strings of your bra, he smiled at your face as he said,

"Do you think I'm going to believe that, dollface? Do you really think I don't know that this pussy hasn't been fucked well for months? I have eyes across this ward. You don't get to fool me."

Heat rose to your face, your small hands pushed on his shoulders, "You're still up in my business? Sounds like someone can't fucking move on."

He nodded, ripping off your lacey bralette and his big hands began to palm your heavy breast - carelessly rubbing your nipple with his thumb. You fought the urge to moan, you hold onto his shoulder for dear strength.

"You're right. I can't move on." Your breath hitched, he nuzzled his face to the column of your neck, inhaling so deep, and wrapped his arms tightly around your body. He missed you so much. So much that if you ran away again, he'd just kill himself.

"I fucked my fist thinking of you. I got this hard just by thinking of you. I'm not ashamed of it."

"That's your problem, Draken. I'm not you. I'm living my best life right now, and sorry that I can still cum just with my fingers."

"That's my girl," He pushed you until your back met the concrete wall, your eyes widened when he took off his cap and put it on you before he dropped to his knees.

"I am aware of your appetite, [Y/N]. You won't be happy with such a small meal. You always keep coming back to have your tight pussy stuffed. Even when we were living together, you couldn't stop begging my dick every night."

"What the hell are you talking about-" You pushed his forehead away from your private part, one hand covering your pussy but he gripped the side of your hips - bringing you straight to his mouth.

"I don't care if you use me as your favorite Cherry Twins. But don't deny that I made you cummed the hardest when I was in your life, dollface."

Your eyes became misty, his words just flew through your head - empty when his mouth latched on your clothed crotch, lapping on the small fabric that the nudge of his tongue probed on your budding clit.

Cherry Twins were the name he gave to your vibrators. Since he was always out when you were at home, he'd make you use them to your greedy cunt - even made a video call so he could jerk off in the public restroom.

You were wild, but he taught you to live even wilder.

Next page: chapter [02] →

a/n : next chapter is full smut bcs thats the only thing my brain's capable of. Taglist are open up to 10 users! Comment '☁️’.

Taglist: @hanmascult @q-the-rockaholic @hikkarins

#tokyo revengers smut #tokyorevengers x reader #tokyorev smut #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers #draken x you #draken x y/n #draken x reader #draken smut #draken #ken ryuuguji x you #ken ryuuguji smut #ken ryuuguji x reader #ken ryuguji #nik; [series] ☁️#nik; [corrupt]

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simpforhoon · 3 years

Text

just you. (p.js) *ೃ༄

pairing: soft dom! jay × female reader

genre: smut, fluff, soulmate au! kind of angsty it has a happy ending I swear (praise, making out, protected sex, oral (f-receiving)).

summary: in a world where everyone gets the name of their soulmate tattooed on their wrists when they turn 18, finding out your best friend is your soulmate was not how you planned your 18th birthday to go. now, what’s so bad about that you might ask? you see, jay despises the thought of soulmates. but maybe he doesn’t despise them so much when it comes to you.

please note, this work is purely that of fiction. and not meant to represent what the enhypen members are like in real life.

A/N: guys no why am I so soft,, anyway I’ve been wanting to write this for a while now, so I hope you enjoy!! and I'm reposting this now, as this didnt get a lot of notes on my old account cause of all the reporting and stuff!

word count: 3.4k

warnings: mentions of heartbreak, crying, mentions of food.

1 week ago

you bit your nails as you paced up and down your room, a nervous habit you’d picked up in your junior year of high school whilst dealing with the tremendous stress and pressure school put on you. well lucky for you, you had graduated now and your 18th birthday was just around the corner. specifically, exactly a week from now.

your best friend jay sat on your bed staring at you with amusement written all over his face as he quietly observed you, before moving up to stop you and pull your hands away from your face. “you’re going to wear yourself out” he mumbled softly, pulling you to sit next to him and rubbing your shoulder in a comforting manner.

“I know I know, I’m just nervous, what if they’re all the way on the other side of the world? or even worse, what if they’re someone I know??” the panicked expression on your face was seemingly too much for jay to handle as before you knew it, he had almost rolled off your bed, laughing his ass off at you.

you see, your “dearest” best friend jay never believed in soulmates. he himself never actually got a name on his wrist, a sign that his soulmate had not reached the age to get theirs. to say he was ecstatic would be an understatement as he was at a party that very night, hooking up with a random girl before going over to your house the next morning with a massive hangover and a sullen expression.

it hurt you to see him that way, hooking up with random people, praying that he wouldnt run into his soulmate. and it hurt even more when you thought of how his soulmate was probably so excited to meet him even if they didn’t know him yet.

if only you knew where you would be a week later, wishing it was you who never met him.

present day

the time on your phone read 11:57, and jay had shown up to your house at exactly 11:30, punctual as always, giving up his usual saturday night parties to spend the night before your special day with you instead. he held your hand in his, one thumb running up and down the expanse of your knuckles soothingly, the only thing grounding you in the tense moments before what was basically the biggest moment of your life. your eyes never met his once, only flickering from the clock to your wrist every few seconds, almost as if it would appear before time if you stared long enough.

12:00 a.m.

it was almost as if everything stopped in that moment as the words appeared on your skin. the crickets stopped chirping, that one car alarm outsode your house stopped beeping and both you and Jay stopped breathing, even if it was just for a few seconds. one by one, letter by letter, black ink slowly trailed up the soft skin on your clean wrist, marking your skin for the rest of eternity. you watched with bated breath as tbe letters curved their way into your skin, into your soul.

“P-A-R-K” looks like your soulmate would have the same last name as your best friend. “J-O-N-” that was when the realisation of what was about to happen dawned upon you. “no, no, no, no” was all you could think. “this wasn’t supposed to happen”

meeting jay’s eyes for a split second, you could see the shock on his face, the same shock you knew was written all over your face at that very moment. yanking your hand out of his warmer one, you stared at the 2 words displayed on your wrist. “park jongseong” you whispered as a one lone tear ran down your cheek, falling to you chin before disappearing into the soft material of your sweater.

this prompted jay to push up his own sleeve, the words that seem to have appeared on his wrist confirmed what you both already knew by that point. jay park, your best friend since you were 5, your rock, your everything, was your soulmate. if the situation were anything but this, you would have been jumping for joy, ecstatic that your soulmate was the man you’d grown up with your whole life. but unfortunately, that was not the case.

“_______” he whispered, voice hoarse as he held your hand in his again. gripping it tightly this time so you wouldn’t be able to let go this time. not that you wanted to anyway. “jay” you whispered back, attempting to smile at him, despite the tears that were threatening to overflow at any moment. “I-I need time to think” he said, so softly, his eyes full of nothing but remorse. “I understand jay, take your time, don’t rush okay?” you replied, squeezing his hand in reassurance. he wistfully smiled at you one last time as he pushed himself off your bed and walked out of your bedroom, closing the door with a small ‘click’, leaving you alone in the darkness of your room, mind racing and wondering what were you were going to do with this newfound information.

you fell asleep after much tossing and turning, your mind full of nothing but jay and his name that was now tattooed into the inside of your wrist. you were woken up by the bright smile of your parents, you mother holding a plate of pancakes and wishing you a happy birthday. the sight alone was enough to make you burst into tears as you wrapped your arms around her, seeking her familiar scent and comfort after the rough night you had. your parents seemed shocked, but did not press you to open up, wrapping their arms around you as they attempted to comfort you.

your mom was no foolish woman, as she seems to have caught on to what was bothering you on your special day. “its about your soulmate isn’t it?” she asked as she placed a glass of your favourite chocolate smoothie in front of you, wiping her hands on her apron. you looked up at her, disbelief written all over your face as she chuckled at you. “how did you know?” you asked as she smiled slyly at you. “I have my ways, and besides, I’m your mother” she replied with a wink. you groaned, dramatically resting your head on the counter as she laughed and gave in. “I saw jay walk out of your room last night with tears streaming down his face, and considering you woke up crying too, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what went down there”.

“you should talk it out with him sweetie, he’s not just your soulmate, he’s your best friend. despite how he feels about this whole fate thing, I’m sure the both of you will be okay.” her words reassured you as you grabbed your backpack, and walked through your front door. not even 2 minutes later you heard the biggest scream and you were tackled into a hug. giggling, you wrapped your arms around the taller boy as he squeezed you tightly. “happy birthday ______!” he said as he let go of you and continued your walk to school. “thanks sunoo” you said, smiling at the younger boy who had the biggest grin on his face.

“soooooo” he began, looking at you with an expectant expression on his face. you pursed your lips, already predicting the question that was due to escape his mouth any second from now. “jay” you said, cutting him off before he could even open his mouth. “JAY?!?!!?” he said, a little too loudly, mouth agape as he processed the information. you shrugged as he linked his arm with yours, understanding that you didnt want to talk about it.

luckily, no one pressed you about your soulmate for the rest of the day, warded off by sunoo’s glare the moment they looked like they were going to ask. you sat next to jay in all your classes, the atmosphere tense and awkward between the two of you. everyone seemed to have figured our what happened by that alone, your normally boisterous voices muted and soft. you went out after school with sunoo and riki, your mood heightened by the laughs and jokes of the two bickering boys.

when you got home, the house was eerily quiet, your parents nowhere in sight, all the lights turned off save the one in your living room. and there on the sleek grey sofa sat Jay, looking down at his hands as he anxiously played around with the rings he always wore. your footsteps alerted him of your presence, as he shot up off your sofa to greet you with a crooked smile on his face, black hair sticking up in every direction.

you smiled at him, already preparing yourself for the worst, as he walked towards you. “your parents have gone out, they handed me the keys and told me to come and talk to you if I wanted, and-” he cut himself off in the middle of his sentence, taking a deep breath and holding your hand. here goes nothing he thought. “I want to try. this whole soulmate thing I mean. maybe i wouldnt be this way if it was anyone else, but it’s you, my best friend, and I don’t want to lose you.” he mumbled out the last part, but it was still clear enough for you to hear. you couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face at his words, his own face breaking out into a grin at your expression. you reached up on your tippy toes to wrap your arms around his neck as his hands went around your waist.

he buried his face in your hair, your soft vanilla scent calming his racing heart, and that was when he realised how much you really meant to him. he loved when you would always being him snacks after soccer practice, he loved when you let him lay his head on your lap and you ran your hands through his hair, he loved seeing the expressions you made when you ate his food, he loved you.

“I made something for you” he said, pulling away from your embrace, leading you to your kitchen and making you sit down on the counter. he grabbed a plate of your favourite pasta and a fork before lifting up a mouthful and holding it out to feed it to you. you smiled, wrapping your lips around the fork as the flavours exploded in your mouth. “oh my gosh, this is good, you’ve really outdone yourself.” he smiled at the complement before pressing a kiss to your cheek and muttering a little “happy birthday love”, leaving your face feeling hot and an uncontrollable smile on your face.

the rest of the evening went by in hin feeding you food and taking a few notes of it himself, lots of little cheek kisses, before the two of you settled down on the couch to watch a movie. it seemed like jay had gotten over his awkwardness as he pulled you to sit between his legs the moment the movie started. you looked back at him in shock, wondering when he got so bold before he pressed a kiss to your lips and told you to focus on the screen.

it might not have been the perfect first kiss, but it was with jay and that was enough. he played with your hair throughout the movie, and moved it aside at one point, pressing little kisses along the expanse of your neck. it was when he landed his lips on one particular spot that you let out a little noise, one you never even knew you could make that made him sit up a little straighter.

it was almost as if a switch flipped within him as he tightened his grip around your waist, one hand slipping up your hoodie to caress the skin near your waist. “I didn’t know you could make such pretty noises baby” he whispered in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “well i didn’t know i could either” you whispered back, the realisation of what was about to happen making your body feel like it was on fire.

“are you sure you want this? we don’t have to do anything you dont want to sweetheart” he said, pulling away with a kiss to your cheek. you shifted so that you were facing him, legs wrapped around his waist and you reached your hands up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m sure jay, theres no one I’d rather do this with than you.” that was all the affirmation he needed, as within seconds you were being dragged to your bedroom by an overexcited jay.

he pressed you up against your room door, hands coming up to lift your thighs and wrap them around his waist, your core meeting his very obvious bulge. taking advantage of the gasp that left you, he allowed his tongue to skip into your mouth, taking control of every aspect of the kiss. pulling away, he brought you to your bed, gently letting you down onto the mattress, and reaching up to pull your hoodie off you.

“so beautiful” he whispered as he reached behind you to pull your bra off, before lifting his own arms to pull his own shirt off, leaving his body on display for you. just for you. he reached down to tug one of your nipples into his mouth, gently sucking and wrapping his tongue around the sensitive bud, his actions leaving your mouth open in a silent moan.

within minutes, both of you were left completely naked as jay continued to trail his lips down your body, pressing little kisses to your inner thigh before his mouth finally met your core, the smallest motion of his lips leaving you breathless and squirming. “stay still sweetheart, good girls don’t move around so much”. his words sent vibrations spreading throughout your body, not doing anything to help with the heat that was coursing through your veins.

his tongue delved in and out of your dripping hole, one of his hands rubbing your clit while the other held your legs open for him. “jay- i- I’m gonna-” but he was gone the moment the words fell from your mouth. and he was a sight to see. your juices mixed with his, drool and spit dripped down his chin, as he ran his tongue over his lips with a smirk on his face.

“oh so the baby wants to cum? don’t worry love, I’m going to make you feel so good”. he reached into his jacket and pulled out a condom before rolling it on and lining himself I with your entrance. he grasped your chin gently, pulling you up to look at him and planting a loving kiss on your lips. “I love you so much sweetheart, so so much” he whispered, pulling away from your lips. “I love you too jay” you said back, watching as he smiled once, before intertwining your hands and then, pushing himself into you.

nothing had ever felt as good in that moment as he gently, softly pushed himself inside. the feeling was euphoric, having your soulmate inside you in such an intimate manner. your bodies moulding together perfectly, bursts of colour lighting up the back of your eyelids as your eyes closed at the feeling of him in you. he began thrusting in and out of you slowly, not wanting to hurt you. but at your signal, he began moving faster, groans and moans escaping both your lips, finding pleasure and love in each other.

it didn’t take long for you to reach your high at all, his length hitting you in all the right places, leading you to ride out your high much faster than you expected, jay following soon after. he finished inside the condom, reaching out to pull it off and throw it away, before walking to your bathroom and grabbing a wet cloth to clean you up with.

he was greeted with the sight of your tired smile as he returned, gently cleaning you before tossing the rag and gathering you up in his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “does this mean you’re mine now?” he asked, reaching down to bury his head in your hair, his hands absent-mindedly tracing shapes and figures on your bare shoulder. “it does if it means you’re mine too”. he smiled at your response, pulling the blanket over the two of you as you drifted off to sleep in the arms of the one person who would stay with you forever.

thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed and I hope you drank enough water today! ♡♡♡

#enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen x reader #enhypen #heeseung smut #jay smut #jake smut #sunghoon smut #kpop smut #kpop

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aressss1 · 3 years

Text

I’m Yours

(Technoblade x Reader)

Request: Alright I have a request, so like monarch techno is pretty cool but what if he had a royal guard and asked them to taste test the food and it practically turned into a date because he just keeps feeding them.

A/N: I had a hard time writing this one, but I hope you like it all the same!

~~~~~~

You did your duty, protecting your lord, the King of the Nether… The one and only Blood God. He didn’t need you by a long shot, he could protect himself, but he chose you as his head knight, his bodyguard. You had come to accept that you would probably just serve as a meat shield to him when the time came and nothing more. This was one of his sleepless nights, and you had to stay by his side. Being head knight meant more responsibilities… And very little sleep.

You stood by the door of the dining hall, as your king waited for his food. Parts of the blackstone floor were shining red from the light the windows let in. That light shone over the king, as he seemed to be in thought. He held his chin in his hand as he stared off into space. Nights like these weren’t too bad, the King was always quiet… Always in his own head… He intrigued you.

Well… He did more than intrigue you… You spent many overworld moons pining after the hybrid King. He treated you like a dear friend, speaking to you as an ally not as a servant. But that could always be your mind playing tricks on you. So… You settled for servant, ready to lay your life down for him always.

You tensed, your hand on the hilt of your sword as the doors opened revealing a maid with a silver platter in her hands. Her heels clacked on the blackstone, as she made her way over to the king. Setting the platter in front of him. She curtsied, a blush forming on her face. She was one of the new maids of the castle. His bored eyes settled on her as he waved her off, dismissing her.

You kept your eyes forward as she left. The sound of her heels receding into the depths of the castle. The king looked at the dome that covered the food on the platter and he removed it, revealing his steaming hot supper. Your body straightened as he called your name.

“Will you please test this for me?” His golden eyes sought you out and you swallowed down the lump in your throat. “You never know when someone… wants to poison the king.” So… you were now… a taste tester?

“My lord?” You were confused. “Isn’t that the chef’s job?” You questioned. Oh, to be reduced to nothing more than a… poison detector…

“I don’t see him out here.” The king kept his eyes on you, as he waved you over.

“At your command… Sire.” Your words were almost bitter. You wanted to lay your life down for him but dying to poison was not an honorable way to die for your king… Making your way to the table he motions for you to sit down, and you do. He sat at the head of the long dining room table and you sat at his right side. You lean forward, grabbing his utensils, you start carving off a piece of the steak that lay on the platter. You take your bite of his steak, feeling his eyes watching you. You swallow, enjoying the taste. Nothing seemed amiss, so you put his utensils down next to the plate.

“What about the rest of the meal?” His words were soft, as he motioned toward the bread, the potatoes, and the carrots on his plate. “Can’t afford to have the King die now, can we?” You deadpanned, was he… taunting you? You weren’t sure you appreciated that… You looked down at the seemingly harmless food in front of the both of you.

“No, my lord…” You grumbled taking his fork in hand once again. Stabbing the fork into the carrot, the king’s eyes stayed on you as you raised the carrot to your mouth, you were starting to feel self-conscious… But this was for the safety of the king, it was your duty to protect him. When you had tasted everything that was left on his plate you pushed the plate back to him, standing up from your chair.

“Did I dismiss you?” Your king's voice rang out in the dining hall and you felt a shiver run down your spine. You had heard that tone of voice from him before and while you were glad it was never directed at you, well… before now… Why in the hell were you so aroused when it was??? You shook your head sitting back down in your chair slowly. He rang a bell signaling the maid from before, asking her to bring another platter of food. He watches her leave before his eyes slide over to you.

“Now…” His eyes settled on you, almost in a demanding way. “Since it seems that you do not like the food that I have to offer you… I’ll let you off easy. Your punishment shall be you finishing that plate of food since you don’t seem to like it.” You looked up at him quizzically, questioning him. His cheeks burned a deep red, and you let out a laugh, falling back in your chair.

“Forgive me my lord but… Did you plan this?” The way the King looked away told you, yes… This was exactly what he was trying for. He was silent for a few seconds, his eyes eventually meeting yours.

“…It’s been on my mind for a while… I just… couldn’t find the time to ask you. I couldn’t get you alone to ask you…” The king looked away, embarrassed. “Being king is busy enough, but you’re always workin’ on ways to protect the castle, I chose you for that reason… You are an amazin’ fighter, fightin’ by your side has and always will be a pleasure.” Your heart pounded, and butterflies made their rounds in your stomach.

“You couldn’t have just requested an audience with me?” Techno shook his head, as he leaned up onto the table, his eyes leveling with yours.

“Too many pryin’ eyes.” He looked down at his hands. “The… voices quiet down when I’m with you…” His cheeks burned as he took to studying his hands too closely, long nails tapping at the mahogany table. “I feel at peace with you.” The voices… He told you about his voices, made you swore not to tell anyone, for only you and Phil knew about them. It could be used as a weakness against the Nether King. You felt honored that he would even tell you.

“My lord?” You bent forward trying to catch his eyes.

“It is a knight’s duty to die for their king…” He didn’t meet your gaze, “I don’t want that for you.” Heartrate rising, you grip the arms of the chair you sat in. “The king isn’t supposed to want to die for the knight should the time ever rise...” It seemed like Techno had a lot of inner turmoil he was working through. “I don’t want to lose you.”

With that, Techno stood abruptly, the chair letting out a groan against the blackstone flooring as he stands, he quickly kneels in front of you, just like you knelt in front of him when you were knighted. His pink hair and red cape pooling around him as he bows his head to you. You… were stunned. How were you supposed to react to this? Gods forbid anyone see this right now.

“I may be a king, but that doesn’t mean anythin’, not when it comes to provin’ my worth to you.” Techno let out a shaky breath. “I pledge myself to you, mind, body and soul… If you’ll have me?” His eyes flit to your sword that hung on your hip. “Strike me down if I am unworthy.” You swore you could melt at this scene.

“Techno…” The word felt strange on your tongue, you had never called him by his name before, well, not to his face anyway. Your hands slowly make their way to his face, the pads of your fingers swiping over his scarred face, as you lift his chin to look in his eyes. Without a word, you lean forward in your chair, the creak of the wood echoing out through the room as you did so. You pressed your lips to his, letting out a soft groan. This felt amazing, like the two of you were made for each other.

You went forward off of the chair, your knees hitting the floor as you pressed yourself deeper into him and his kiss, he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you, the size of his body enveloping you. Tangling your fingers into his hair you felt tears springing forth. This man, who had pulled you out of battles to heal you with the finest potions, who treated you as an equal rather than a peasant, really thought he was unworthy of you. Your head spun at the thought.

You pulled back for air, leaning your forehead against his. Eyes locked as the two of you regained your breath, your fingers still entangled in his locks. You loved the way his hands felt as they glided over your form. You were sure it would feel better once your armor was off, but for now this would have to do.

“Be mine?” Techno looked for confirmation, and when you nodded his grip tightened on you. “Even with a whole kingdom to take care of?”

“I’m yours,” You whispered it in his ear as you rested your head on his chest, taking in his scent. He was everything you wanted and more. The door of the dining hall opened once more and that was when the two of you split from each other standing from your position on the floor. The maid from before, taking note of both your hands intertwined in the others. The both of you were nothing but shy smiles as you moved your seat closer to his and you both ate the meal in front of you. Random conversation playing in the wind.

There were preparations to be made. Changes to be had, but that was fine, just as long as you stood by your king… Technoblade.

#technoblade x reader #technoblade/reader #c!techno x reader #techno fanfic #fluff #tumblr request #Tumblr Exclusive #mcyt x reader #I'm Yours

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alstroemeriadissonance · 2 years

Text

Act of Contrition (NSFW)

Was getting a bit worn down with all the brain work needed for the NXX Mystery Theatre (will get to Part 3 after this), so this is sort of a palate cleanser

Thanks to the degenerates at TOTNSFW Discord for this nice prompt, truly what I needed. Thank you.

Demon Vyn AU.

WARNING: NSFW. Depictions of religious sacraments are just that--depictions--and are based on author experience growing up in a religious family. Please don't turn up my doorstep with pitchforks and priests ready to sic on me the Rite of Exorcism.

Take this, all of you, and eat of it,

For this is my Body,

Which will be given up for you.

Entrancing. This is the word that comes to your head when you gaze upon the hands that lift the unleavened facsimile of the Body of Christ. The hands, not the Body itself; from the front pews on which you sit you could easily see the long fingers, elegantly-boned hands peeking out of the alb's flowing sleeves as they hold up the Body for everyone's reverence.

Your gaze still does not leave the priest's hands as he breaks apart the Body--the communion wafer--into the Chalice filled with the Blood.

How interesting would it be if I were to be broken by those same hands?

Your Religion teacher of years ago would be sorely disappointed to see her favorite pupil, the quiet little you, recipient of Most Behaved in Class awards spiral downwards into irreversible corruption.

How interesting would it be to be touched by those same hands? Those gentle fingers that guide the flock to salvation.

You let your mind wander in boredom, as you have done for all of the Sundays of your life forced to sit down and endure the condescending words of priests who dare dictate how everyone should live their lives, even on romantic relationships, when they have never actually lived. Those priests who--

Indeed, my pet, would you like to be broken by these hands of mine?

Startled, you immediately look up to the priest who is still reciting the Eucharistic Prayer. For a split second you believe, you think, that you have seen those golden eyes look straight into your soul, but they close in reverent prayer before you could even think about it further.

You tell yourself that you are just hearing things. That your mind is just bored and playing tricks with you.

That the voice, a perfect reproduction of the priest's, wafting into your head unbidden to deliver a dangerous invitation is just your brain jolting you to back to Earth.

===

"The Mass has ended, go in peace to love and serve the Lord."

Finally. There is no real reason to linger; yet you decide to remain in your seat and let the rest of the parishioners go ahead of you. No need to wade through the crowd on your way out--or so you tell yourself as you find your gaze lingering on the silver-haired priest as he engages the more devout parishioners with after-Mass pleasantries, a beatific smile plastered on his face as they vie for his holy attention.

I wonder how his face looks like when he is alone at night. I wonder how he looks like on those lonely nights when he is touch starved. I wonder--does he touch himself on those nights, or do the angels of heaven descend upon him and take away his horniness?

You lose yourself in your immoral thoughts-- in the chapel, no less--and by the time you resurface back to the present you find the priest himself looking straight at you with a kind look.

The priest's gaze is tinged with something quite different that you cannot place.

There is nobody else in the Chapel, and everyone has already left while you were in your heathen reverie.

He approaches you, hands clasped in front of him. A slight breeze ruffles his soft, silver wisps the color of moonlight; his green stole signifying the period of Ordinary Time gently swaying.

You expect a genial greeting, or a blessing, perhaps, but his words seizing your heart and mind before your consciousness is obliterated are

"You need to confess your sins, little one."

A wicked, golden-eyed smile.

Then darkness.

===

And when you come to, it is still darkness that greets you.

You find yourself lying down on cool bedsheets, in a room almost pitch-black if it weren't for the dim lights set by the far corner of the room.

"Are you awake, little pet?" comes the familiar dulcet voice, the one that always presides over the Holy Mass. However try as you might, you can not reconcile the voice with the being sitting right in front of you, by the foot of the bed.

"Father Richter...?" your voice comes out raspy, confused. While the figure in front of you shares the same silver hair and gold eyes of the gentle, paternal priest, the rest of his features are a clear departure from the familiar: he is clothed in all black, his shirt and pants tight enough to accentuate his lithe figure.

And his face, eerily enough, shares the same characteristics as the priest. Yet it can not be any more different with the grin on his lips not quite reaching his eyes that, you now realize, glow in the darkness.

"Are you...Father Richter?"

You now start to question your sanity. Have your bored fantasies reached such a new low that they have created in you such lifelike hallucinations?

Or are you dreaming?

"You are dreaming," not-Father Richter answers your thoughts. "Somewhat."

You do not even question how he could answer your inner confusion. You just know now that he can read your thoughts.

Not-Father Richter crosses his legs by the edge of the bed. "You were too distracting earlier, pet." He would sound like he is admonishing you, if it were not for the small smirk on his face. "Those filthy, filthy thoughts. I could hear you loud and clear. I was getting thrown off." Soft laughter escapes his lips.

"If you only knew how much work I put into memorizing the prayers, how the sacraments were delivered, how to consecrate..." his voice trails off, shaking his head in amusement.

"What...what have you done with Father Richter?"

"I am still me, pet," he smiles. "Father Richter is the one who is...fictitious." He slowly approaches you across the bed, crawling on all fours until he is seated beside you. "I already have had my fill from the reverence of everyone in today's Mass. But I do not mind a little dessert."

His face slowly descends upon yours, and it is then that you catch a glimpse of the horns on his head.

"Hello, little one," he smiles as his lips hover a few inches above yours. "Just a quick introduction before I devour you. Just call me Vyn. And yes, I am a demon."

He licks your lips, letting his tongue linger before slipping into your mouth, locking lips with yours in a voluptuous kiss.

"Pray for me, little one, will you?" He whispers against your mouth. "There is nothing more nourishing than the selfish wishes of the people who want to gain something out of nothing, and at the same time thinking that the very act is one of sacrifice--" another laugh, his eyes glimmering with a derisive smile. "How silly."

"What are you doing?" you ask. But whether or not the demon answers you is moot, the way his fingers easily rip off your Sunday clothes as if they were mere candy floss already makes his intentions known.

"Were you not listening earlier? I said I would devour you," Vyn says before flicking a tongue over a sensitive nipple, sending your back arching, pushing your body even closer to his as you unconsciously crave for more of the sensations that you idly dream about during Mass.

He seems to hear your inner wishes, as he snakes his arms around you, pulling you closer to him and letting your legs coil around his waist. Vyn settles between your legs, still fully clothed, as one of his hands slide down to your now throbbing sex wet with arousal. He lets slip inside one of his long fingers inside your slit.

"No--not there, please," you moan in an effort to salvage whatever modesty you could still grab on to, only to fail spectacularly as Vyn's thumb finds your clit, strumming it at a sensual pace.

This sends you writhing underneath him, and your hips now grind against the hand slowly fingerfucking you...

"You did say earlier that you want to be broken by these hands," he chuckled. "Now, pray for me. Make this sweet time worthwhile for both of us."

Somehow the sensation of being fingered by a demon is prompting you to make questionable decisions. As Vyn's fingers take their sweet, maddening time slowing slipping in and out of your drenched pussy you ask, "What prayer?"

"Whatever you want, pet," Vyn licks his lips as he slides his index and middle fingers into your mouth. Instinctively you wrap your lips around his digits, letting your tongue lap and taste his cool, slightly salty skin as you suck his fingers.

"Ahh, yes, that feels good." Vyn then removes his fingers from your mouth, and uses the same fingers now drenched with your saliva to trace the areola of one of your breasts. "It can be any prayer. It is the intention that matters, after all."

It is particularly hard to rack your brains for a prayer that you can recite in full, while you are being molested by a demon, his long, delectable fingers that you have been fantasizing about making unbelievably lewd, wet sounds deep in your pussy.

Eventually you remember that you were recently sent to a confession by worried parents who have read your diary full of immoral, rebellious thoughts and so you had to memorize the Act of Contrition.

"Mm, that prayer," Vyn grins wickedly. "Yes. That would do. Nicely." He slams his fingers inside you to punctuate his delight at your choice. "Go ahead. Start now. I am waiting."

"Oh my God, I am very sorry for having offended thee."

Vyn lays on his back, his hands urgently guiding you to sit on his face. You lower your dripping sex over his waiting mouth that captures your slit in a sloppy French kiss. His tongue starts running stripes along the entire length of your slit, each stripe ending with a flick at your clit.

"Mmph--"

"Don't say another other word apart from the prayer, pet," he says in between licks. "Continue."

"I detest all of my sins because of thy just punishment." You lean forward as you grind your sex against Vyn's wonderful mouth, planting your palms on Vyn's naked stomach--you do not know when he even shed his clothes, he is just naked now--to give the tip of his shaft a small kiss.

His erect cock twitches in response.

"Continue," Vyn commands as he inserts three fingers inside you as he sucks on your bud.

"Ahhn...But most of all, because they offend you, my God, who is all good and deserving of all my love."

You have not done this before, being a virgin, but you know it would be good if you take his cock in your mouth...which you do so with a little struggle. Your tongue licks at the shaft buried inside your mouth, and you wonder if you are doing it right.

Suddenly you feel one of Vyn's hands thread its fingers through your hair, only to push your head even lower until the cockhead slams against your throat. You cry involuntary tears that come ignored, the discomfort in your mouth overshadowed by the sheer pleasure that threatens to explode your lower core, with the way Vyn is paying attention to your sex with his lips, tongue, and mouth...

You surface from his cock enough to rasp out "I firmly resolve with the help of thy grace..." and once again taking Vyn's length into your lips, only to be pulled back by your hair.

"No--that is enough," Vyn's voice somehow crack a little. "Continue. With the prayer."

With deft movements Vyn now has you on all fours on his bed. He does not bother slicking his cock before plunging hard into you--both of you are already wet with heavy arousal and saliva.

"To sin no more--ahh!"

Fully hilted inside you, Vyn reaches to grab your hands, pulling your hands back to his sides so the center of your weight is shifted to your hips, ensuring that your pussy will fall hard against Vyn's groin as he slams into you.

"Yesss. Now, the final words. Give them to me now," Vyn hisses as he starts railing your sex fast and hard, his hands pulling at yours as if they were reins.

Each pull, each thrust sends such stimulation into you that you struggle to complete the prayer, but you eventually do, though before you could close it properly with the universal closing word Vyn brutally slams into you over and over with such force that you can't even utter a single two-syllable word with all of the moans and cries coming from you...

"Ahh--and to avoid--shit--the near occasion--ah!--of sin--"

"Haha. Hahahaha," Vyn laughs as he rails you, then, bending just enough for his lips to reach your ear he says that very word with the most erotic voice you have ever heard:

"Amen."

And with that, you come undone with such earth-shattering force that sends you reeling forward....

===

It is almost sunset when you come to.

You are still sitting by the pew, but strangely enough it does not seem that you were sleeping. The way you regained consciousness feels like you just came off from a rather deep daydream.

"Have you finished with your penance?" comes the deep, honeyed voice once again.

Heart beating fast in your chest, you turn to face the priest--Father Richter--now in casual clothing with a clerical collar on the base of his neck.

"It took you some time when I only gave you one Rosary and five Hail Marys for your penance...or did you see it fit to pray more?"

His smile is warm, and somehow...genuine.

#tears of themis #tears of themis fanfic #mo yi #vyn richter #tot smut #tears of themis smut #vyn richter smut

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