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wandasfifthwife · 2 months

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༺ needing me

paring: CEO!Wanda x fem!reader

tw: 18+ MDNI, Wanda calls her strap her “dick,” dom!Wanda, sub!reader, use of the term “mommy,” reader gets jealous of the attention Wanda’s giving the new neighbor, fingering (r receiving), (magic) strap in v (r receiving), Wanda spanks you, needy/bratty!reader, Wanda puts you in your place 🤭

a/n: not proofread, I’m exhausted. sorry if it’s shitty yall’ss. enjoy

People come and go. Some are for a season, some for a long time. The woman who sat across from you and Wanda, you hope she’s going soon. It wasn’t like this in the beginning, so what also changes is feelings. You would have never called this woman a bitch when you first went with Wanda to say hello for the first time.

It was pleasant meeting her. Thanking her for the kind gift and inviting her over sometime— as casual neighbors. Then one dinner had turned to two. Then two had turned into three. Then you had begun to mumble curses under your breath when Wanda told you from the living room that Lorre was hoping to join you two for dinner. Again.

“This is the fifth time,” you had snapped, too irritated by her taking so much time and by Wanda allowing her too.

“Yes. It’s quite nice to have friends in the neighborhood.”

“She’s a little too friendly.”

Wanda had entered into the kitchen just then, a frown now on her face at your attitude., “why do you say that? I think she’s been lovely.”

You roll your eyes, “she’s the closest thing to a bitch if there ever was one.”

A neutral expression takes over where her frown was as she realizes. Only a quiet hum escaping her as she leaves to go open the door when Lorre began to knock. Her reaction was enough to send you spiraling, desperate to push her over the edge.

You had greeted her reluctantly, placing the silverware and food onto the table for the three of you. Lorre made herself comfortable in the living room, Wanda making conversation with her while they waited for you to come and get them.

Your distaste and attitude was apparent when she took a seat near you, Wanda being on the opposite side. It was fine, you answered when she asked and kept a low profile for the first thirty minutes. It grew when you felt like you were pushed to the back, no longer reviving Wanda’s affection.

“I remember last time you mentioned being interested in non-for-profit work, I know someone who would be—“

You cut Lorre off, deciding to speak on Wanda’s behalf, “that’s okay.”

“Oh I insist, they’re a grand writer and they—“

“And I don’t think Wanda would be cut out for that. She has enough as is.”

Wanda had reached over the table then, putting her hand on yours, drawing your attention to her.

“I apologize for her. Before I forget, I’m going to return your plates! Thank you so much for letting us borrow them.”

Wanda had pulled you behind her, not caring if you were embarrassed by the action, or how you stumbled. She brought you to the kitchen, letting the swing door close behind you before she turned you around and into the counter.

“So desperate for my attention you have to ruin a good night?”

You gasp when her hand burns the skin on your lower thighs, the feeling rubbing your ego so well it has you pressing back against her.

“Need you.”

“I know.”

You feel her smile grow into the kiss she was placing on your neck when you whine after a particularly rough slap. She laughs, “so needy.”

You’re left on the counter with nothing when she moves beside you to grab the plants Lorre had gifted you with a homemade baked good a week ago. You reach to grasp onto her and pull her back into you, but the way her expression sets has you scrambling back.

“I want you to be polite to Lorre the rest of the night unless you want to go to bed knowing you won’t come until I decide.”

You say nothing, not wishing to push yourself any further at the moment. She was fully capable of sweet talking Lorre out of your house, explaining how nice it was to see her again and how something came up with word but when in reality it was you she was busy dealing with.

The rest of the night went as expected. Wanda listening to Lorre rant about the same things she always does while you sat in silence contemplating what would happen when she left. When you stopped looking at the clock in the corner of the room, the time went by faster and Lorre was finally ending her conversation and heading back to her house beside yours.

You didn’t care to walk her out, preferring to lay back on the couch while you waited for them to exchange final pleasantries. Wanda had shut the front door and it felt every cool breeze went with it.

“Want to tell me why instead of explaining and using your words, you thought being a brat to and in front of another would be more appropriate?”

“I wanted your attention.”

She pulls your legs to wrap around hers, “do you feel better after mouthing off to mommy? Needed to be mean to get what you wanted instead of being a mature adult?”

You pull at the front of shirt, begging for her to take the initiative and kiss you but she leans away.

“Until you learn you need to ask what you want and that you’re mine— I’m not touching you.”

“I just think, maybe you should pay more attention to me- oh.”

She pushes under your waistband, drawing a finger over where you need most. You pull her onto you, begging her to touch you.

“You’re really cute when you’re jealous,” she mumbles before kissing you. Your arms come around to fully embrace her, trying to hold her as close as possible.

“Please,” you breathe against her lips between each bruising kiss, “please touch me.”

She loves the sweet sounds you make when she finally presses a finger into you. The way your legs tremble around her waist, either holding her tighter against you to loosening and trying to make purchase on the couch arms beside you.

“You fall apart so beautifully. I just wish you wouldn’t be so rude to other’s because they’re taking mommy’s attention away from you.”

“I’m sorry,” you cry, tone breathy and shaky.

She questions you, adding another and angling it to watch you squirm. Each trust wears at your attitude more, chipping at it until you’re an empty shell of what you were before. Hands gripping wherever you can, little soft cries coming from you as you’re sensitive from not feeling her touch after two weeks.

It’s enough, and she’s pulling back to switch your positions. She pulls you onto her lap, asking you to remove her pants. Your hands fumble with her belt, your face leaning close to hers to whisper in her ear.

“Need you to be rough,” she stares into your glossy eyes, eyebrows raised at your request, “please.”

She grins at you, “need mommy to be rough with you? Want to feel how good I can make you feel?”

You whimper at her words, moving to kiss her and moaning when she bites your lip. She loves easing up on you when she recognizes the days when your eyes and put-of-place attitude beg for her to take control.

Wanda adjusts beneath you, widening her thighs and giving you space to breathe as you sink down on her length. She’s gripping your waist tight, a long sigh escaping her when you bottom out.

“So good for me,” she mumbles, rubbing your sides, placing kisses over your chest.

You can’t help but to grind onto her length when you feel she’s taking too long. She’s quick to stop you, punctuating her actions by jerking her hips to hear you gasp.

“You need to ask, baby.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry— please just use me. Need you— ah!”

She guides you, muscles flexing while she splits you on her length. Soft ahs falling from between your lips with each thrust pushing deeper into you, pressing into the spot that has you arching into her body.

“Always take my dick so well,” she coos, “always so good for me.”

“I’m good?” You ask, voice needy and she’s quick to reassure you, landing praise after praise until small tears form. The whole time she had her thumb pressing near your clit, adding enough pressure to watch your pleasure build, not feel it spike due to overstimulation.

“Do you need to come, my love?“

You nod, pulling at the seams in the couch as you feel it boil over. She lets out a sound similar to you when you quiver around her, a sob coming from deep within as you come down from your high

“My love, you’re so good,” she kisses your neck, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you to sag into her body.

“I love you,” you babble.

“So very proud of you. I love you too.”

The words ease your mind, giving you the freedom to fully relax in her hold. Wanda lifts you by reaching under your thighs and carrying you to your room, laying you onto the mattress.

You run your fingers through her hair, a dazed smile on your face, “are you going to stop there or keep going because I need you again.”

She laughs, eyes wrinkling with a smile brightening her face. The sound making you smile and rub your thighs together from underneath her. She notices, and you almost feel offended, “you haven’t paid me any mind for two weeks. It’s not my fault.”

“No it’s not,” she spreads your thighs again, “I’ll take care of you until you’re satisfied.”

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oweninadaydream · 5 months

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𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐩𝐭 𝟏 || 𝐅.𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 : Say Don't Go (Taylor's version) (From The Vault) or 4 times you say 'I love you' and Finnick says nothing back.

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 : Finnick Odair x reader

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 : 2K

𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼 : angst/fluffy ending (in part 2), (not really) unrequited love?, insecure reader, jealousy, TW: sexual exploitation (second story).

𝓪/𝓷 : This is my first time writing for Finnick and I'm so exited for you guys to read it!!! Hope you enjoy this fic :) Part two is already posted!!! You can find it here. If there are any mistakes I'm sorry , English is not my first language.

𝟣. 𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝑒

The quietness of the night was only being disturbed by the sound of crickets and mockingbirds. The cold breeze was the only thing keeping you awake. Well, that and Finnick. You were seated next to him on the porch of your house which was right next to his. Three years had passed since you won the 67th Hunger Games and you still weren't used to the gloomy sight that was Victors Village, especially not at night, when the solitude and darkness of the streets made you remember things you thought (or hoped) were long gone in your memory but that deep down you knew would always haunt you, until the day you died.

Finnick scooted closer in order to share his blanket with you "Stop being so prideful, I can see you shaking" he scolded you for being so stubborn. " I did it on purpose, I just wanted to make you cuddle me" you joked, as it was normal in your friendship.

He had been your mentor the year you were reaped , you got along well but didn't become that close then. You knew that those were his second games as a mentor and you could feel that he wasn't emotionally prepared to bond with you just to see you die days later. Still, he prepared you the best way he knew and was always kind towards you. After you emerged victorious from that nightmare, the Capitol decided to profit off of your charm ; you were too young, scared and lost, just like Finnick once had been (and still was). That's when he took you under his wing , and you would forever feel grateful for that.

He was your rock, your light within the dark, your safe person and he saw you as his happy place, someone he could rely on, his partner in crime and the person with whom he shared his deepest thoughts, his dreams, his nightmares and hopes for an utopian future. Finding each other seemed something simply destined to be. You needed each other in ways that no one else could wrap their head around.

Despite having that special and heartwarming relationship with him, you wanted more. You were utterly and madly in love with him. Your infatuation had begun during training and only grew stronger after he approached you after the games. The thing between you was so fragile, so special that you had never thought of confessing your love. The possibility of driving him away caused your heart a kind of ache worse than any stab received back in the Arena. Your feelings felt selfish, how could you want more? Your greedy passion would ruin everything (or so you thought), so you settled for what you had.

On the inside, you knew he wasn't the kind of man that would dismiss your feelings rudely and that he would continue to consider you his friend , but it just wouldn't be the same, and seeing your dynamic change in such a way would be a more fatal fate than dying at the games.

" The way they're shining, how beautiful" he quietly mumbled loud enough for you to hear. "I know, the stars look unreal tonight" you agreed while staring completely mesmerized to the night sky. "I was looking at your eyes" you turned to see that he wasn't in fact stargazing like you were. You were out of words. He was usually flirty and he never ran out of lovely words to dedicate to you, but you still reacted as if it were the first time. "Charming as always, dear" you replied as you rested your head on his chest. He moved so you could be more comfortable and you wanted to stop time at that exact moment.

" Thank you for always being there for me" he said in a more serious tone. " You know that I'd do anything for you. Are you okay? Where is this coming from?" you asked with a worried frown adorning your face. "These past few days apart have been rough and it made me appreciate you more" he confessed timidly. How privileged were you to be able to see him in his most vulnerable state. The moon, his hands holding yours, the heat you felt on your face, it was simply too much.

"FINNICK!" a blood-curdling scream came on the scene, startling you both. He quickly stood, as he had already identified the person behind such a yell. "ANNIE?!?!? WHAT'S WRONG?!?!?"

Annie was the victor of the last Hunger Games. She had been mentored by Finnick just like you, but unlike with you, Finnick had rapidly grown fond of her ever since they first met. You knew you shouldn't have thought too much of it, but your mind was your worst enemy. You couldn't stop yourself from imagining a very near future where he chose her over you , leaving you behind and all alone in this world. You liked her : she was kind, delicate but strong and very beautiful, but for those very same reasons you were becoming jealous of her and her chances of getting together with your best friend.

Annie appeared in front of your porch wrapped in a blanket and trembling while sobbing. " They're gonna get me" "Hey hey Annie c'mon, no one's gonna hurt you anymore, you know I'll make sure of it" How caring was Finnick, it was just natural for him to become the protector in every situation. "O-okay" Annie said with little confidence in her voice "Would you stay with me tonight? I had a really bad nightmare" her doe eyes had the reflection of the full moon in them ; it truly was a breath-stealing sight "Sure thing darling, I'll be there in a second, wait for me at home, all right? It's okay " his soothing voiced and calmed her down enough to return to her house by herself.

He turned around to look at you "I'm sorry, I have to go" "I know, Finnick, it's okay" you assured him, even though you were shocked by the term of endearment used for her, as it took Finnick quite a while to refer to you as sweetheart, honey or your favorite, love.

What was wrong with you? That poor girl had just got out of the games and was terrified out of her mind after dreaming about a traumatic experience she had recently been through (just like you did in you day) and the only thing you could think about was how jealous you were because she was being comforted by Finnick in such an intimate and caring way, because she had his full attention and she would be the one lured to sleep by his calloused hands running through her hair that night. You were not thinking logically and you lost control of your actions.

"Hey" you shouted to catch his attention, as he had already begun to leave towards Annie's house "I love you Finn, I just wanted you to know" you confessed as your froze in place . You told each other how much you loved each other all the time, but it had never been like this : not under that light, not with all that sentiment in your eyes and definitely not with such a voice tone. It was clearly a confession and you could't believe what you had just done.

He stared and smiled, transmitting you his appreciation for such kind words and he continued the way to his destination. Oh fuck. Fuck Fuck Fuck. He hadn't interpreted your words as you spilling your guts about your feelings, it was just a friendly 'I love you' to him. Annie was perfect for him, you could never give him that sweet innocent love you believed Finnick deserved. The anxiety quickly transformed into anguish and you went back inside to prepare yourself for a night full of tears and stupid hypothetical scenarios about them. About him.

𝟤. 𝐼𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒

Looking around the enormous gardens you couldn't spot a single person you genuinely cared about. This Capitol party, as the previous ones, were filled with members of high society that gazed at you and the rest of victors as if you were exotic wild animals.

Reaching your secret hiding spot, you felt yourself letting your guard down. Even if distracted, you noticed the warm hand on your shoulder. You spun on your heels to identify the person behind that unexpected and yet comforting touch. Of course, Finnick Odair. Your confident, your best friend, your protector and the love of your life (role that's he's unaware of). "Shit Finnick, don't do that!" you playfully reprimanded him while smacking his chest. He pretended to be hurting but ended up laughing at your little tantrum.

"Wow, Cinna has outdone himself, you look charming my dear" he said as he gently took your hand to make you spin and admire the fine clothes you were dressed in that evening. Based on the pink blush that adorned his cheeks you quickly arrived to the conclusion that he was far from being sober and you didn't blame him, these events were unbearable if not intoxicated. "You're not bad yourself, Odair" .

The two of you danced, talked, drank more than you'd be able to remember the next day and flirted, a lot. Your heart couldn't take one more touch nor one more compliment from this man . "There's something you're not telling me, I can see it in your pretty face" he commented while hugging you from behind. He'd always known everything about you, so that remark was not surprising. Still, your heart started beating at an alarming speed and you felt the sweat coming out from your shaky hands.

What if you told him? Based on the spark in his eyes during the party you could only assume he was at least interested in you as more than a friend. You were intoxicated and wrapped between his arms, what if you just told him? "I... I love... you..." you mumbled while closing your eyes as if that would make you invisible to him. The deafening silence brought out your worst fear : rejection. No, no, no, this couldn't be happening. You've fucked up real bad this time. You turned around to face him and get this done as fast as possible.

That's when you realized : he hadn't heard you confessing your most cherished secret. You had an opportunity to go back in time, to act as if nothing had happened. You couldn't risk losing him. You locked eyes with him and Finnick tilted his head to the side in drunken confusion as he hadn't caught on to what you had so shyly whispered. Smiling sympathetically you shook your head as if to not give importance to what had been previously said. He didn't give too much though to your dismissive answer. "Would you like another drink, love?" His characteristic smirk accompanied the proposal perfectly, inviting you to give in ; as always, you couldn't deny him anything.

Before you had the chance to approach the drinks table , one of Finnick's regular clients grabbed him by the waist and whispered something into his right ear. His eyes suddenly darkened and his once relaxed features stiffened significantly. You already knew what was about to happen. You were no stranger to the services President Snow forced him to provide to Panem's elite. In fact, you were another of the poor miserable souls in charge of satisfying every desire of anyone who was wealthy enough to afford the luxury of laying with a victor.

Telling the wealthy woman to wait at their usual meeting place, he shook her off. Finnick approached you, feeling guilty and not wanting to part from your side. After a single chaste kiss on your left cheek, he left in the same direction as his client. You let out a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding and tried to prevent the tears from falling. As common as this was, it never got easier for neither of you.

Later that night you found yourself in a similar position as Finnick. The man caressing your body didn't pay any attention to the way you were spacing out and you felt thankful for that. Your mind was elsewhere, replaying over and over again the moment you almost told Finnick how in love you were with him and wondering what would have happened if you had had the courage to repeat those three words just a little bit louder . But it doesn't matter, not anymore. He was drunk and so were you, nothing sincere would have come out of his mouth at that time and you highly doubt sober him would have corresponded your feelings anyway. If only things were different.

#the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games fanfiction #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair imagine #female reader #male reader #gender neutral reader #the hunger games imagine #oweninadaydream

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niqhtlord01 · 4 months

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Humans are weird: The illusion of Pain

“The monastery is secured.”

“Excellent.” Vil said over his shoulder. “What of the survivors?”

“We’ve gathered them in the main hall.”

With that Vil waved away his underling and returned his gaze to the outside. Situated atop the tallest mountain range on the planet Vil had to give the humans credit for a truly majestic location to build a temple. He was also grateful that it was so isolated which made raiding it even easier. The nearest terran league outpost was a system away and since his pirate crew disabled the temple’s transmitter in the opening volley no distress signal had been sent out.

Turning from the view the pirate captain began walking the corridors to the main hall. He strode past several of his men ripping tapestries from the walls or carrying several large golden artifacts under their arms. Vil was not concerned with gathering loot himself. Once all the loot had been gathered aboard his ship he would get first pick of the treasure, and if any of his crew had kept loot for themselves before he had his pick they would find themselves the guest of the airlock chamber.

A short walk later and Vil had reached the main hall. Gathered at the center were a dozen or so human monks. They had offered no resistance to his crew when they attacked and as such none had been killed during the attack; though some bore a few new bruises from his crew’s “encouragement” to comply with their orders.

“You have all complied with my orders and as such I will give you a chance to earn your freedom.”

The gathered humans looked amongst themselves in confusion at Vil’s statement. “We are going to play a game.”

Vil entered several keys on his wristband and an energy barrier appeared around his person. It was capable of stopping level three plasma energy shots as well as the occasional thrown knife. He had known a few pirates who had neglected that last feature and had paid the price for their carelessness.

“If any of you can reach through this shield and touch my person, I will set you all free and return your possessions to you.”

Several of the humans looked up at this but Vil raised a taloned finger to forestall them.

“However,” Vil continued, “should none of you be able to complete this task you will be sold into slavery for profit.”

The sudden jubilation at potential freedom was just as quickly quashed by this statement and Vil grinned. He may not be a vindictive pirate, but that didn’t mean he had other ways to enjoy a bit of sadism now and then.

“I will give you until the final setting of the sun to win; you may begin when ready.”

His crew watched the humans whisper between each other before one of them finally stepped forward. Like the rest he wore a simple orange robe and had his head shaved to the skin.

Vil stood silently and watched the human approach him. He stopped just outside of the barriers range and reached out with a hand cautiously. The moment his finger touched the barrier a shower of sparks erupted from the point of contact and the human withdrew their hand immediately.

The surrounding crew guarding the humans laughed at the foolishness of the human monk. Looking down at his singed finger the human was horrified to see the top layer of skin for his entire digit was missing. The red pulsating muscle surrounding his bones was now clearly visible and the monk wept from the pain.

Vil looked down at the monk and shook his head. “If this was an easy game it would be no fun.”

The first monk retreated back into the group nursing his wound as a second monk approached. He walked as close as the first monk and stopped, taking several deep breaths and closing his eyes. Reaching out with his right hand the monk touched the barrier but unlike the first monk continued moving his hand forward as the energy barrier began to spark. He had made it all the way to his wrist before he finally gave out and screamed in pain; retracting his now flayed hand and collapsing to the ground.

Vil grinned and turned to his crew. “Anyone want to start a side wager?” he chuckled. “I bet fifty credits not one of them will get past their shoulder.”

His crew laughed and joined in on the side wager, placing all sorts of bets from which one will be the first to die to which would piss themselves from pain.

On and on this went as the sun slowly set in the distance and the room grew darker save for the light generated by the energy barrier. Vil watched as every monk stepped forward and tried their best to reach him. Many could not handle the pain after mere inches; while others tried repeatedly each of their limbs had been flayed in some manner by the barrier. One had even gone so far as to sprint at Vil in an attempt to use his forward momentum to reach Vil. That human had lost their footing just as they leapt at Vil and had merely grazed the barrier, and in the process flay half his body as he flew by the pirate captain.

“If there are no more contestants,” Vil finally declared as the sun was just about to set, “I think we can end this game.”

Vil was just about to deactivate the barrier when a voice gave him pause.

“I believe it is my turn.”

Vil looked up from his wristband to see an elderly monk slowly make his way through the crowd of humans. His pace was slow yet precise as the old man finally stood before Vil.

“You are the leader of these humans?” Vil asked the elderly human.

“Yes, I am the master of this temple.” They replied in a throaty voice dimmed by age.

Vil tilted his head to the human in recognition. “A pleasure to meet you,” Vil began as he waved a hand at the injured monks, “but I must ponder the nature of a master who allows his students to come to harm before he intervenes.”

To his surprise the elderly human shook his head. “A true master will let their students test what they have learned, rather than deny them the chance of enlightenment.”

This was not the response he had expected. “Then tell me, wise one, what have your students learned?”

“They have learned the meaning of pain,” the human replied, “but have yet to master the means of overcoming it.”

Without saying another word the elderly human walked forward. He did not outstretch his hand or leg as his students had but simply approached Vil with his back upright and his breathing calm.

The energy barrier sparked to life as the master stepped through it with his entire body as if it was nothing more than a gentle stream of a waterfall. Vil’s eyes went wide as he watched the skin from the human be peeled away by the barrier from his head to his toes in an instant. Yet what was more astonishing was that the human made not a single sound aside from his deep breathing, even as his clothes burst into flames and fell from him in clumps of ash.

His crew stood silent as the elderly human reached out with a now shriveled hand and touched the forehead of Vil with a single finger. They had never seen any being perform such a feat before and watched with baited breath for their captain’s next words.

“How…..” was all Vil could manage as he watched the flayed man standing before him.

Through lidless eyes the master looked up at Vil.

“Pain is a great unifier amongst the many peoples of the star ways; yet only when you realize that it is an illusion can you truly begin to experience the universe.”

He motioned to his gathered pupils who were still nursing their wounds. “Our order has been persecuted long before we reached the stars and in doing so has taught us much of pain.”

“And yet you appear to be the only one who has overcome it.” Vil remarked.

The flayed old man looked at him and smiled. “That is why I am the master.”

#humans are insane #humans are weird #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #scifi #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01 #tw

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back2bluesidex · 1 year

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Haegeum - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Gangstar!Yoongi X Bar-owner!Reader

Theme: SMUT, PWP (MDNI)

Summary: Banning Yoongi from your bar has its own consequences.

Word count: 1869

Warning: Strong Language, sexual theme, dub-con, sex on the bar island, creampie, mentions of gun, a little bit of violence, Yoongi is hot OMG!!

**************

“How dare you?” you seethe through your teeth, staring at the man that seemingly has no emotion at all. Your eyes scan the pieces of shattered glass all over the floor of your bar. You wanna cry. Your bar means the world to you. After pressing yourself under the unforgiving wheels of the corporate sector, you finally saved enough money to open your own bar. It has been one of your biggest dreams since forever. All of it was going good, so fucking good until one day Min Yoongi, the infamous delinquent of the city stepped inside.

Nothing has been quiet and peaceful since then. Using your bar for his illegal deals has become one of the common things. You have warned him again and again but you received nothing but a smirk in return.

However, everything has a limit so does your patience with this terribly handsome delinquent. The dam of your cool demanour broke yesterday when he pulled out his gun and pointed it at the man he was supposed to be making the deal with. You threw both of them out of your bar just at once. Thanks to your bulky security guards, the deed has not been tough. But you knew that you were jumping in a pool of fire. You knew it the moment Yoongi turned his head to stare and smirk at you before being pushed out of the entrance.

And just as you thought, he came back today. He came back with his gang of thugs and jerks and destroyed the large mirror that you installed behind your bar counter, it was your favourite decoration. Seems like he knew it.

You miss the way Yoongi’s eyes rake over your body as you continue to stare at the broken glass all over the floor.

“Are you regretting, kitten?” Yoongi cooes in a low voice, taking your attention. You look at him and visibly cringe at the nickname.

“This is what you get for banning me from my favourite bar in the town.” He says again.

“This is my bar, you nutjob! I get to decide who can step in here and who can’t!” you scream at his face. Your fury didn’t let you see the way you are stepping towrads his body.

“And this is my area, Kitten. I get to decide who can start their business here and who can’t.” Yoongi replies calmly, as if he didn’t trespass your property and scared your guests away less than seven minutes ago.

“You don’t own the property, Yoongi” you reply, boring your fiery eyes into his cold ones.

“You bet I do, kitten. And do you know what else I own?” he pauses, taking a step towards you, “you”.

You stand still. You don’t know if you should be scared or thrilled hearing such a handsome delinquent calling you his. But what you do know is that even if you want to oppose it, it will all go in vain. He is Min Yoongi after all and what Yoongi wants, Yoongi gets.

“Have you ever asked yourself how you got to open this bar without facing any trouble?” Yoongi asks, taking another step towards you and this time you take a step back. You indeed have asked yourself. Since your capital was limited you didn’t get to open your bar in a fairly decent area. You decided to settle for a little shadier place instead, promising yourself that you will shift it to somewhere better once you earn enough profit. However, you heard stories about how other pub or club owners in this area had to pass money under the table for opening their businesses. When you faced nothing like this, you indeed asked yourself several questions starting from why and how. You somehow knew it would come with a price. But you didn’t imagine the price to be Min Yoongi himself.

“Because I let you do so.” Yoongi growls, breaking your reverie and taking another step towards you.

“Becuase I wanted you from the day my eyes landed on this pretty face of yours, this inviting body of yours.” his eyes travel down your face to your neck then your chest. The heat of his gaze and his body makes you feel lightheaded. You almost jump when your body comes in contact with the bar top. Yoongi’s body towers over yours and he locks you between those vieny arms of his. You should be angry and furious but the sudden dampness of your panty says something completely different.

“Why do you want me?” your voice is softer than before and you fail to recognize yourself when you say those words. It is as if you want to hear him saying something very specific, you don’t know why.

“I like strong, confident and self-dependent women. I like to see them fly until they find that one place they can’t reach.” he smirks that lethal smirk again, “and in your case, I am that place.”

You are about to protest but then your words get cut as you feel something hard against your stomach. Unfortunately, that object isn’t his bulge but the cold metal of his gun.

Your breath gets stuck on your throat as you feel terror creeping up your spine. But you don’t want to show it, not today.

“Go ahead, kill me if you want. I still am not bending in front of you.” you say and Yoongi chuckles.

“You got some courage, don’t you? But kitten, you gotta bend in front of me if you wanna save your precious bar. If you don’t, next time it will be those expensive bottle of liqours to be shattered here on the floor.” He presses the gun on your stomach even more.

“No!” you mutter.

“Then do as I say. I promise it won’t be painful. Rather you will like it all.” Yoongi’s gaze falls down on your lips and your cunt leaks with anticipation.

“What do you want me to do?” you say, letting your own eyes fall on his lips.

“Strip” the demand in Yoongi’s voice sends you working in auto-pilot and you find yourself shredding each piece of garment one by one.

Yoongi’s eyes darkened the moment you are left only with your emerald lace lingerie. You see him licking his lips as his body still towers you greedily.

“Stop” Yoongi commands when you reach for the hook of your bra. He places his gun in the back pocket of his jeans and places one of his giant palms on your bare thigh.

“Better than my imagination” he says, squeezing your thigh harshly. Within a moment you find yourself being lifted up and sat on the bar top.

“You are already wet? Is this how much you hate me, kitten?” Yoongi says, regarding the wet spot that is visible through the cloth of your lacy underware. You are embarrassed but you’re aroused much more than that.

Yoongi takes out his gun again. He holds you by your waist and he presses the mouth of his gun on your clothed clit. You hiss at the contact. Yoongi’s mouth finds the expanse of your collarbone as he bites down on your skin, “you like it, kitten. You are just as nasty as I thought.”

Moaning out a little, you try to roll your hips for some friction, you are badly in need of that.

“So impatient. Just like a little slut. You are lucky, I have been waiting for a long time to get you like this, which means I am in no mood to tease.” Yoongi mutters in your throat before he pulls his face away from yours and hooks his fingers on the hem of your underware. He snatches that away within a blink. And now you are sitting naked on the bartop with a leaking core waiting to be ruined by Yoongi.

“Fuck” he curses, as he places two of his fingers on your slit gathering some of your juices. Your pussy starts throbbing at the contact. And without your own knowledge you moan out his name.

“Yes, kitten, yes. Moan my name. Let me hear it.” Yoongi says with a dazed expression. He places the gun on the top of the bar just beside you and starts removing his pants. You know he is just as impatient if not more, when he pulls his boxers away along with his jeans. His delicious looking dick frees from confinement to greet you in its full glory.

Your mouth waters at the sight. As much as your pride hurts right now, you can’t really deny the fact that you would love to suck him dry. As if reading your mind, Yoongi says, “I would love to give you a taste but, I need to be inside you now.”

He aligns his dick on your entrance and presses on your clit with the tip of his cock once. You hiss at the contact, yet again.

“Fuck Yoongi!” you moan.

“Yeah kitten. I am gonna fuck you till you can barely walk.” he says, slowly entering you. He pulls out his length once he is midway and then slams into you without any warning. You grasp for a handful of his thick hair. He barely gives you any time to adjust as he starts moving with a good pace already. You don’t even register when his hands reach your back and unhook your bra. You finally get what is happening when he pulls the garment away from your body and throws that away.

Yoongi latches his mouth to one of your perked nipples as one of his hands massage the other tit. He sucks hard and messily, leaving a trail of his drool dropping down the swell of our tits, reaching your naval down to your mound. He bites your nipple and that gets you seeing stars.

“Yoongi” you whine.

Yoongi takes up a much faster pace, this time he shifts his mouth to your other tit and his hand reaches down to draw circles on your clit. The pleasure that you feel is unexplainable. You feel like you could faint from this.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck” a string of curses start flying out of your mouth when his cock hit your g-spot twice in a row. As a result your walls start squeezing his shaft and his cock starts twiching.

“Cum on my cock, kitten” as if you obey his command, you cum on his dick. Yoongi follows right behind as he spills his seed in you. He bites on your nipple again and the pain overstimulates you.

Yoongi pulls out his softened dick from your cunt and watches as his semen flows out. He chuckles at the sight. Your breath is heavy and ragged and seeing Yoongi chuckling at your fucked out form makes you angry.

“What’s so funny?” you ask furiously.

“Not funny but definitely amusing how you ended up bending before me.” He smirks again. Your jaw gets tight at his cockiness.

“It’s a one time thing” you say as you start climbing down from the bar top.

“Oh, kitten, you thought so. Cause now, you belong to me.” Yoongi says, grabbing his gun and pointing that to your temple.

**************

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie

#bts smut #yoongi smut #suga smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenarios #bts x reader #bts x you #haegeum #bts suga

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 1 month

Text

Alt Assistant AU Pt 6 NSFW

Under the cut!

The morning after their first tryst, anxiety churns in Kara's gut. Looking at Lena's sleeping form beside her, spread and open and relaxed as though she hasnt a care in the world, she wonders if this will be a one time thing. A singular supernova of two bodies colliding before spiralling off into the expanse, never to meet again.

She needn't have worried.

Lena wakes with a purr and a smile, leaning in for a sour kiss before throwing her leg over Kara's waist and levering herself upright. Being knelt over gives Kara a full unobstructed view of Lena's full, rounded breasts, pierced nipples and all. Her mouth goes dry.

"Last night was..." she rasps, not quite sure what word could possibly encompass the experience. All she knows is that she wants more. More and more and more, until Lena consumes her entirely.

A dark eyebrow lifts. "Was....?" Lena prompts teasingly.

"Unbelievable," Kara offers. "Euphoric. Rapturous--"

Lena curls down and kisses her again.

"Intoxicating," Kara sighs when she can breathe again.

Gaze turning soft, Lena regards her from above.

"Last night, you asked me how many times I've thought of this." Green eyes watch her closely. "How often have YOU thought about this?"

"Fucking?" Kara says brashly. "Not as often as being with you. Close to you. I..."

She trails off, suddenly uncertain. Being Lena's assistant, effectively invisible in so mundane a role, has given her confidence. Without having to either hide herself or set an example or embody an ideal, Kara knows she's thrived in a way she never had in the previous reality. But now... being so near to Lena pulls the rug out from under her, leaving her feeling unsteady.

"What?" Lena asks gently. Her head tilts slightly, and Kara thinks she sees genuine care in her features.

"I don't want this to be one time thing."

Lena's lips curl in a barely constrained smile, delight appeared bright and sudden. "Well, then..." she says, her voice all but rumbling. "I suppose it's a good thing I have no intention of letting you go any time soon."

----

Life after that remains relatively the same. In the office anyway. Kara is just as attentive as she's always been, seeing to Lena's every need and many of her wants as well. She brings all of her knowledge of Lena to bear, and she knows Lena is a little surprised at how well she can "guess" what Lena likes and doesn't like.

But as soon as they log off for the night, and go their separate ways at the doors of the LuthorCorp building, all bets are off. They always come back together at Lena's apartment-- Kara uses her speed to arrive before Lena, and simply hides herself a reasonable amount of time before knocking on Lena's door.

They fuck. A lot. Not a single surface in the apartment is safe from their ravenous hunger for each other. For the briefest moment of time, Kara worries that her desire may be one sided, but when she bides her time to let Lena set the pace, Lena's come for her just as ardently.

But as the days pass into weeks, their trysts ease from need to comfort. Their escapades are punctuated by take out meals on the couch in varying states of undress, and light conversation about each other's histories. Kara uses what she knows of herself in this reality and makes up the rest, and Lena reveals what Kara couldn't find online.

Her broken heart at boarding school, her brief shame in her sexuality before she embraced it out of spite for her bigoted mother. Her knowledge of her mother, slightly more than Kara remembers her knowing-- that she'd been a folk singer in a small town before moving to the city to make a better life for Lena. How her mother had died-- cancer, instead of drowning.

Some happy memories too, of her early days with the Luthors-- more than before but still too few-- before Lionel had died in her teenage years.

Her desire to do good, even under the watchful attention of her brother, who sees only profit.

When the weeks pass into over a month, Kara allows herself to believe this might last. That she might be allowed to keep Lena in her life forever. Until one day Lex Luthor himself appears in Lena's office.

She and Lena are just returning from another meeting, and Lena immediately addresses her brother with a warm welcome, preventing Kara from needing to interact with him directly. She pretends not to feel the heat of his glare as she exits to return to her own desk.

As she sits, Kara casts her hearing through the wall between them, listening closely as they exchange pleasantries that seem friendly enough. But it's not long before Lex's tone sharpens.

"I was surprise to hear you'd become a cliche, ace."

The silence that follows is frigid as Lena stiffens.

"Screwing your assistant?" Lex smirks. "Come on."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you and dad had cornered the market on diddling the secretary."

Lena's response is cool and measured, but it kicks Kara in the gut like a mule. She almost misses the darkening of Lex's tone.

"Don't be snide..."

"Oh, but your hypocrisy makes it so easy." Lena huffs. "Jesus Lex. I never gave you grief about Eve, or even Mercy. What gives you the right--"

"I own this company!" Lex barks. "Everything you do is a reflection of me and our name. It's time you remember that."

"As if you'd let me forget--"

"I let you have your little pet projects, let you use company funds for your silly outreach ideas, and you do this?!" Lex takes a breath, letting it out in a huff of feigned sympathy.

"We have rules against this sort of thing, ace, and they're in place for a reason. If you choose to continue, and the board catches wind of it, I won't be able to protect you."

This time, Lena doesn't respond. A quick glance with her x-ray vision shows Kara the inevitable slump of Lena's shoulders.

Lex's senses his victory. "Think about it," he says. "I know you'll do the right thing."

When Lena still doesn't say anything, Lex takes his leave. The smirk he shoots Kara on his way says everything. She's lost.

Later that night, Kara enters Lena's office on quiet feet to go over the next day's schedule. When she finishes, Kara pauses.

"Do you need anything else before I leave?"

A subtle prompt for Lena to leave too, despite the paperwork spread on the desk promising that Lena has no intention of calling it quits.

"I have some proposals to review," Lena says quietly without looking up. "I won't be home until quite late."

"I can stay--"

"No," comes the clipped response. "I have what I need."

Kara grits her teeth, trying not to let her hurt show. She leaves with a nod, forcing herself not to look back until the door shuts behind her. Only then does she turn to peer through the wall, and witness the sad features Lena covers with both hands, elbows resting on the desk.

Scowling, Kara turns on her heel and heads home.

#supercorp #alt assistant au

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zarasu · 3 months

Text

I've been awfully distracted from conquer by writing on my abyss demon!sy bingyuan au. Have a snippet! Binghe and Shen Yuan reunite at Huan Hua.

---

His first reaction to seeing Shen Yuan at Huan Hua Palace was rage, thinly veiling fear.

Shen Yuan was the seduction he had fled from, finally catching back up to him. He was the blissful oasis, coming to distract him from his goals. He was the promise of comfort and belonging, hovering at the edge of everything happening to make Binghe lose sight of what was important.

There he was, bowing before the Old Palace Master, this unassuming, soft little man. There was no sign, now, of his dark mana that used to surround him at all times, no playful tendrils curling around Binghe's ankles, no extra mouths, eyes or sharp teeth.

He looked like a normal, harmless young cultivator and Binghe wondered how he had managed to gain control of his nature so quickly, when control seemed to be far away just a year and a half ago.

The only thing that didn't seem to have changed was how quickly Shen Yuan sensed his presence.

Black eyes found him under the cover of long eyelashes and Binghe hated how quickly his body sprung to attention in response, awareness coursing through him like crackling electricity.

He wondered if Shen Yuan knew how he commanded his body, even after all this time.

Sensing his distraction, the Old Palace Master followed Shen Yuan's glance until he saw Binghe standing at the entrance.

"Ah, Binghe," he called, intentionally informal, possessive indulgence in his eyes. He reached out, beckoning, and Binghe came closer until the Old Palace Master could put a heavy hand on his shoulder.

With close interest, Binghe watched as Shen Yuan's hand twitched at his side.

He got his first good look at the scene now. Shen Yuan was in simple cultivator's robes and there was a large, dead beast laid at the palace master's feet. A winged lioness. A rare catch, outside of the abyss, and a deadly one too. Many cultivators would naively go for the males, desiring their golden mane, and disregarding the infinitely more dangerous female lions. That Shen Yuan had not only managed to kill one but came out of the fight seemingly completely unharmed spoke of his power and competence.

And the Old Palace Master knew it.

Slowly, Binghe started to understand what was happening before him. Shen Yuan was trying to get into Huan Hua. He was trying to bait the Old Palace Master into keeping him here and, going by the greedy shine in the old man's eyes, it was working.

"Binghe," Shen Yuan said then, unexpectedly. "It's good to see you well."

He shook off his momentary surprise. Binghe wasn't sure why he had thought they would pretend not to know each other, but obviously Shen Yuan had had other plans.

Before he could reply, the Old Palace Master interjected. "Master Shen knows our Binghe?"

Shen Yuan's face grew a little stiff, but Binghe finally found his voice. "Shen Yuan. I didn't expect to see you here." There was a moment of silence before he added: "I'm glad to see you too."

Where had his eloquency gone? He felt like a bumbling youth, all talk and nothing behind it. He quickly turned to the Old Palace Master. "We met on my travels. Shen Yuan saved me from a situation that would have otherwise ended very badly for me. I owe him my life."

Maybe Shen Yuan hadn't been so sure of his welcome after all, going by the way his stiff expression was replaced by surprised pleasure. "Anyone would have done what I did."

Binghe felt the sudden, desperate urge to laugh.

"Well, any friend of Binghe's is a friend of Huan Hua," the Old Palace Master said. "Of course, Master Shen is welcome to stay for as long as it pleases him." He looked like he had just added two profitable, fat cows to his stables instead of inviting two wolves into his flock of sheep.

Shen Yuan bowed, his eyes flicking away from where the Old Palace Master still had his hand on Binghe's arm. "This one is grateful for the palace master's generosity."

"I will have a servant take care of your gift so that we can display the hide soon. Come, Shen Yuan, I'm sure we can find a room for you." He put his other hand on Shen Yuan's shoulder and pulled both of them to the door, deeper into the palace.

Hidden by the way they were walking ahead of the palace master, Shen Yuan turned his face to Binghe just the slightest bit. As soon as their eyes met, Shen Yuan's mouth curled up into a sly fox's smile.

#svsss #bingyuan #binggeyuan #demon sy #svsss au #fic snippet #my fanfiction #possessive sy #original luo binghe #shen yuan

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peachdues · 3 months

Text

*ahem* enjoy a preview at my Kyojuro fucks your tits one-shot

CW: MDNI • explicit sexual content • tit play • ice play • Kyojuro is a ruthless tease

Kyojuro’s hands drop to his belt, and the sound of the metal clinking as he unfastens the buckle makes you nearly cry out in impatience. Rather than removing his dress pants, however, he merely pulls his length free, already stiff and demanding. Cock in hand, he slaps it against your stomach and lets it sit, thick and heavy and hot on your belly.

“Look how far I’m able to reach,” he muses, pupils blown wide at the sight of his thick cock head resting against your belly button. “And you take me perfectly every time, don’t you my darling girl?”

You plant your feet flat against the bed and buck your hips, trying desperately to show him where you needed him most.

The feral, ravenous heat simmering in Kyojuro’s eyes is tempered by amusement. He knows exactly what you want — always has, always would.

He denies you anyway. “Not tonight, my flame,” and he clicks his tongue at you the second your bottom lip begins to tremble with your pout. “Don’t give me those eyes — it won’t work this time.”

One broad, warm hand drifts idly behind him and wedges between your thighs. Kyojuro chuckles lightly as he watches the way your body tenses, how your eyes go wide and beg him for more. He drags two, thick fingers up your slit, only dipping between your folds to just barely swirl around your clit, before he withdraws his hand.

He is maddening and you are wanton.

“Do you know what I had to do all week, my little dove?” He peels away from you to stand beside the bed, shaking his arms until his dress shirt falls to the floor. “While I was in meeting after meeting, having to talk numbers and profits, and annual reviews?”

Your mouth turns dry as Kyojuro’s divinely toned form is freed from the confines of his button down. You press your knees together and fidget against your bed where you lay, desperate to feel his body cover yours.

But your lover does not rejoin you on your mattress; instead, he only continues to stand there, off to the side, his eyes bright with a silent order not to look away from him.

“I had to endure video after video from you as you pleasured yourself all over the damn apartment,” his voice drops to a growl. “Flaunting it.”

If he noticed the way you squirm under the intensity of his gaze, he doesn’t show it. Instead, Kyojuro merely hooks his fingers around the waistband of his slacks and he slowly pushes them down until he’s left in nothing but his briefs.

Your eyes instantly fall to the large tent protruding out from between his considerable thighs, and you can’t stop the moan that slides past your lips.

Kyojuro’s smirk is dangerous. “Imagine how it felt, my love, to be sitting in a room full of associates — of superiors — and receiving a video of you riding my pillow.” He tsks at you, shaking his head slowly in mock-disappointment. “Imagine my anguish when I had to wait until I returned to my hotel room just to turn the sound on so I could hear your beautiful little moans.”

Kyojuro reaches for his cell phone, laid face down on the nightstand. The blue light of his screen momentarily dispels some of the simmering heat in his face, as he scrolls through his texts. His thumb stills against the screen and his eyes lift back to yours. The dark lust in his gaze sends another wave of arousal rocking through you.

You recognize the video the second he turns his phone’s display to you; it was the one you’d been most certain would drive him utterly wild with need — so much so, that he’d tried to video call you the second he stepped foot in his hotel room, desperate enough for phone sex to hold him over until he returned home.

You hadn’t answered.

The video in question is you, perched on the folded plush of Kyojuro’s pillow that you’d wedged between your thighs. Your hips roll and grind desperately against it, your boyfriend’s name falling in lilting, breathy cries from your lips.

It’s unquestionably hot, but you know now, just as you had when you’d texted him the video mid-afternoon, that the mere act of you rutting against his pillow was not what had nearly sent your flame-haired lover over the edge.

Kyojuro Rengoku loves your body; he cherishes it — worships it, even. Since the first time the two of you had been intimate with one another, Kyojuro took great care to ensure you knew exactly how much he loved every inch of you. When it came to sex with Kyojuro, quickies were few and far between. If you were naked, your fiery, passionate lover was going to spread you out across the nearest piece of furniture and savor every inch of your nudity with his warm hands and even hotter mouth.

Yes, Kyojuro is a loving partner, who thinks you are the single most beautiful creature ever to walk the earth. To him, you are utterly delectable.

But you’ve also known since day one that Kyojuro Rengoku is first and foremost, a tit man. He has been, ever since the first time the two of you slept together, when he’d pushed the straps of your sundress off your shoulders as the two of you got hot and heavy in the back of his car. From the moment he’d laid eyes on the luscious twin swells of your breasts, Kyojuro’s fixation bordered a full-blown obsession that could not and would not be contained.

—

His knees are still braced against the bed on either side of your hips as he reaches toward the drink on your nightstand, the glass slick and sweaty with condensation. His hand dips past the brim and withdraws a single ice cube, pinched delicately between his thumb and index finger.

He holds the ice teasingly over you, the watery mixture of the melted ice and alcohol running in rivulets down his broad forearm. A single droplet makes its way to his elbow before it falls, and you hiss at the shock of the cold meets your heated skin.

“You know the rules, my flame,” he purrs, shifting until his weight settles into you until you are utterly and hopelessly pinned against the mattress by your hips. “You tease me, and I tease you.”

I apologize in advance for how filthy this is gonna be

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kyojuro rengoku #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny rengoku #kny kyojuro #kny smut #demon slayer smut

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cacti-are-like-flamingos · 9 months

Text

Shared Moments...

Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

The Cursed Trio | Living Waters

...

Usually, you wouldn't mind time going fast. The faster it went, the closer to a break you got. But those two...when you were with those two, you begged the clock's hands to slow down. Swearing to give it anything it wanted, in return for just a few mere minutes. It didn't have to hours nor days nor months, not even years--- just a few minutes is all you asked for. Was that too much to ask?

You would never admit to them, especially not Gojo. But you've actually started to enjoy hanging out with them. They didn't even have to do anything, just being in their presence proved to be enough to scare away the aching loneliness that seemed to continuously plague you.

Back then, it never got this bad. Then again, you were easily able to speak to others. And while, the aid of Haibara and Geto have gotten you close to some kind of fluency, you still felt insecure enough to not speak publicly.

Not to say, you're silent as a lamb. (Iykyk) On the contrary, they've never seen you so talkative (not as in, you're being a chatterbox. It's just that back then you would utter out like a sentence or two depending on the person. The only time you spoke more than that was when you were cursing out Gojo in your native tongue. Now that I think about it, maybe that's why he annoyed you so much. That way he could hear you more. Huh.)

First year was turning out to be quite the breeze for all of you --- albeit, training sucked sometimes. To be more specific, training with Gojo was annoying. Not because you couldn't take it, more of a --- he just wouldn't stop talking!

It's like that's all he was born to do. Talk and talk and talk.

In spite of that, the silver fiend did have moments where his words would bubble out laughter out of you. He'd say something so out of pocket that you just couldn't stop yourself from laughing much to Geto's disapproval. (That's another thing you both have in common, you're both the literal incarnations of out of pocket shit. The both of you say things that would make the fucking Joker from Batman blush)

After training, you'd throw yourself besides Geto. Not too close, not too far. Just close enough to feel his warmth, and you'll just lay there for a moment. Taking in the sight of the blue sky and the dancing leaves...until Gojo proceeds to throw himself on you as always. The fucking bastard...

Eventually, he'd get off of you. Thanking you for being such a good cushion, to which you'll flip him off as you skip over to Geto, whom you've developed the habit of keeping a hold of at the ends of his uniform. It started out when they took you to one of Japan's major festivals, you don't remember which one, but what you do recall was the amount of anxiety you felt as you tried to transverse the crowds. Desperately trying to keep an eye on both their heads --- you were only so tall!

Next thing you know, you did it out of desperation. Not wanting to lose them again.

You'll never forget Geto's surprised expression that soon shifted into a genuinely sweet smile, one as soft as a cheery blossom petal. (Haibara actually took you to see these. This is where he told you to call him by his name)

Gojo likened you to a lost puppy, contrary to Ieiri's belief of you acting more of a cat (the others agreed you were more like a cat cuz I like cats better than dogs)

Speaking of Ieiri, both of you loved to go out shopping. She'd invite other girls from other schools to introduce, that's how you met Mei Mei and Utahime.

Surprisingly, you and Mei Mei seemed to get along. Mainly because your sense of fashion was incredibly similar. Elegant and timeless has always been the way to go. Also, you like money, she likes money --- what more could you ask for?

Also she spoke your language (she does business overseas to increase her profits so she makes it a habit to learn as many languages as she can. The more she knows the more opportunities she gets)

In a way, you understand her way of thinking. In spite of that, you disagreed with all of it. Good thing you knew when to keep your mouth shut, you had a feeling she'd be a lovely ally in the distant future.

As for Utahime, how could you not get along with her? The two of you fawn over cute animal cafes. She once took you to this Capybara one, as a treat for being such a good Kouhai, and you were over the moon. Mainly because you've never seen one and now you were feeding one!

This is actually the moment where Gojo crashed your hang out, stealing you away for serious big-boy business. You protested the entire way, shouting at Ieiri to give the other women your phone number just in case before letting yourself be whisked away by the toothpick

You glared at him, "Where's the rest of you?"

Cue in Geto greeting you with a bag of your favorite treats to make up for Gojo kidnapping you. Worked like a charm.

"Pig." "Shut up, Tampon." Cue Geto holding on to a table, laughing his ass off as Gojo stared at you over his sunglasses flabbergasted. You were the only person to ever leave him speechless, on multiple occasions.

He instantly burns red as he berates you, which you only roll your eyes at as you feast into your threats, "Says the mouthwash." Gojo and Geto look at one another, confusion written in their faces. Gojo speaks first,"Mouthwash?"

You hum in delight, nibbling on a mochi treat, "For the amount of women that had to suck you off and then spit it out like mouthwash."

Geto's not even in his chair anymore, he laughed so hard that he ripped the seat back and fell onto the concrete below. Gojo is now absolutely glaring at you with narrowed eyes, giving up when he couldn't think of a better come back.

When you get back to school, they have a tendency to escort you back to your dorm or if you're still feeling peckish, guide you to the question and hang around while you make yourself something to it. It's not even a conscious thing, they just do it out of sheer habit. The moment your eyes settle in the direction of the kitchen, they just know

There's a counter with some stools so they chill there, casually talking to one another about the most randomest of things while you dance around the kitchen gathering your ingredients

Gojo will steal some while you offer Geto some (and because you know Gojo likes to steal, you make it a habit to make a bigger portion.)

Often times, you can't really sleep so you like to wander about the school grounds. That's how you came across Nanami. He was sitting on a couch in the recreational room, wet towel over his eyes. He looked so tired, poor guy.

The moment he heard your footsteps, he snapped his head your way. Letting the towel fall onto his pants as his brain took a moment to charge enough to actually process your presence.

Even when tired, he's polite.

You have a fresh warm cup of some traditional drink from your home country, something that'll help you fall asleep and rather than drinking it yourself, you gift it to him. Of course, he'll reject. But we all know how stubborn you can be.

As he drinks, he'll actually talk to you about his day and the missions he had --- seems the more exhausted he is, the likelier he is to open his mouth.

Your drink helps him sleep whilst his voice lulls you to sleep

Eventually, the two of you fall into a routine of sorts. You'll find him trying to sleep in the recreational room, so you'll go and make him a drink from your home land. And as he sips on it, he'll talk until you fall asleep.

Nanami would be the first to wake up. Upon seeing you sleeping by his side, he'd pick you up. Quietly carrying you over to your down where he would tuck you into bed, whispering his thanks before leaving your room.

One time, Gojo caught the blonde in the act. Nanami had to calm him down before he destroyed the whole area. He happily placed you into the nuisance's arms, uttering a soft thank you to your sleepy ears, and left to go slumber.

Ah, your dorm room was simply just too far. Just the weight of you alone so hurting his arms (that's a lie if you ever knew one) ah, what are you saying brain? What about his dorm room? It is closer. In fact, it's right around this hallway that he's already been walking through since Nanami placed you into his arms.

There's barely anything in his room as he settles you down into his bed, draping a blanket over your figure. The velvety ones he knows you like (this isn't the first time, you found yourself asleep in his bed. The last time you were seeing god from all the amount of benadryl you took and somehow sneaked your way into his room. You will deny this day even to God himself)

You had made a comment that his sheets and blankets were just too scratchy. Not long after, all of his bed stuff had been replaced by satin and the good kind of cotton.

Setting his sunglasses on the nightstand beside the bed, he got ready to sleep.

Tugging the blanket up, he slid in beside you. An arm of his settling under the crook of your neck as talked a hand onto his sternum, feeling his heart under breath the fabric while you dreamt.

Even in your sleep, you shied away from complete touch. Yet you unconsciously allowed yourself the simple indulgence of a heart beat and the warmth of another besides your own.

The next day, when Geto woke up to wake his bestie up. He momentarily froze at the doorway before pulling out his phone to take a picture of the both of you. Snickering as he did so.

He'll always tease the both of you about that night, stating that he never took either of you as 'cuddle bugs'

And yet, the photo is his home wallpaper.

Hypocrite much?

...

(A/N): I have yet to sleep but I have no regrets. These two make me want to die.

Check out my masterlist for more The Cursed Trio content

Song Inspo: HOAX - into the blackhole

If you don't like being to touched, then why did you let Gojo touch you?

Huh, Mei Mei is an...interesting character. Wonder what we got there.

Drop a comment

Feel free to buy me a 🦩

Hope you enjoyed!

#gojo x reader x geto #gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo x geto #gojo satoru x geto suguru #reader #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #romance #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #the cursed trio

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rafeandonlyrafe · 6 months

Text

kinktober: cuckholding/prostitution

words: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, males who are NOT rafe receiving oral, drugs, prostitution, kind of cuckholding, female receiving oral, p in v sex

it’s your third guy of the night, the third guy who shilled over the extra money to rafe along with paying for whatever drugs he also bought.

there’s a list of conditions they must agree upon, and it shocks you as well as flatters you every time how many men are willing to go for it.

first rule is the one that makes you agree to the whole arrangement: rafe must remain in the room at all times. there’s many others, like how the men can only use your mouth, how you can stop it at any time and they aren’t allowed to say a word.

you have learned to adapt quickly to the different men's styles, some prefer for you to to suck them hard and fast, some slow and deep, while others prefer you to simply sit back and let them use your mouth, like the man who is currently in the room with you, rafe sitting on the armchair, eyes on your face to pick up any signs of displeasure.

the man starts to moan and you can tell he’s getting closed, leading to your next rule: no cumming in your mouth. you give him one last thrust down your throat before you’re pulling away, letting him jack his own cock off into the trash can. it’s undignified, but they are paying to use you after all.

rafe stands once the man cums, handing him the drugs he paid for as well before showing him out of the room. rafe gives you a hand to help get you up off your knees, and you hurry into the bathroom, rinsing out your mouth and then brushing your teeth as you do after guy. you gargle with mouthwash before you head back out to rafe, giving him a kiss now that your mouth is clean.

“it’s so hot.” rafe says, hands squeezing your waist. “watching them pay thousands just to cum in minutes from using your mouth.” you smile at rafe, your greatest pleasure being from making him happy. “are there any more for tonight?” you ask, wanting your ultimate reward. while rafe spends every penny of profit from a night like this on you, it’s him fucking you afterward that you really look forward to, not the shopping sprees or lavish gifts.

“one more.” rafe says, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “unless you want to be done now.”

“no, no.” you shake your head. “i can do one more. can i have another bump though?”

rafe nods, heading back over to the table and helping you take a bump. as soon as the drugs are in your system you let out a soft sigh, letting rafe pull you onto his lap. he will let you do drugs, afterall, it’s a bit hypocritical considering his chosen profession, but it’s always under his close supervision and he makes sure you don’t take too much.

you let yourself enjoy being on rafes lap as your mind wanders, the drugs taking you on a journey until it’s interrupted by a knock at the door. you stand up, knowing exactly how this plays out.

“come in.” you say with a sultry smile, letting the man into the room. he’s handsome, and you feel yourself getting turned on at the thought of sucking him off. rafe makes sure to be very careful about who he invites up to your room. it has to be men that you aren’t going to be disgusted by physically. you only do this about once a month, so he is very picky, running the potential men by you first.

you take your place back on rafes lap as they do the drug deal, the man handing over money for the coke and for you, grinning as you stand up and move to the plush rug. you kneel down, cringing slightly at how bruised up your knees are.

“god, she’s gorgeous.” the man says to rafe, running his thumb briefly along your lip before he goes to undo his pants.

your eyes turn to rafe, watching his reaction like you always do. while you make the men cum, it’s rafe who you really want in your mouth, who you want to be giving pleasure.

rafe nods in approval as you start to suck the man off, head bobbing up and down. you appreciate the loud moans of the man, showing clearly how much pleasure you are bringing him.

rafe usually stays composed throughout your encounter, but knowing that this is the last one of the night, that after the man leaves, rafe is going to take you, has him pressing a hand over his crotch to give him some relief.

you resist the urge to smile around the mans cock, pulling back to suckle at the head before ducking back down. you can tell he’s getting close when he starts to pulse in your mouth, and you almost don’t pull off in time for him to turn his body and cum into the trash can.

you don’t even wait for the man to zip up before you rush into the bathroom, taking care of yourself and then also getting undressed. you wait with your ear pressed to the door as rafe converses with the man for a moment, and then your cue to leave the bathroom is the door shutting as the man leaves.

you step out as rafe is counting the money, but he drops it onto the table and watches you with lust in his eyes.

“did i do good tonight?” you ask, moving to sit on the edge of the bed that sits in the corner of the room.

“you did amazing, baby.” rafe walks over to you, dropping down on his knees between your legs. you smile and spread them for him, and rafe is quick to lean forward, tasting your wetness on his tongue. “damn baby, did sucking off all those men make you this wet?” rafe asks, tongue quickly falling back out of his mouth and lapping at your clit.

“no.” you give your head a shake. “knowing that you were gonna fuck me is what made me this horny.”

“good answer, princess.” rafe says with a smirk, sucking your clit into his mouth. you let out a moan and tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing his face into your pussy. rafe continues to eat you out for a minute until he gets too impatient, needing to get inside of you. he hops up from his spot on his knees, freeing himself from his pants as you lay back, but leaves your legs spread towards the edge of the bed.

rafe smiles at your position, ready and pliant for him to fuck. he knows the drugs flowing through your system are helping relax you even more.

he presses his cock against your entrance, not even bothering to pull his pants all the way down but it just turns you on more that he’s completely dressed while you’re there naked.

“only one that gets to fuck this pussy, right?” rafe says, pushing his cock inside of you, but keeping his thrusts halfway as he doesn’t give you the ultimate pleasure of entering you fully.

“only one, only you rafe.” you moan out, trying to entice him to fuck you deeper by circle your hips and squeezing your cunt around him.

“that man offered me 10k to fuck you tonight, and you know what i told him baby?” rafe asks.

“hm?” you question, eyes rolling back in your head as rafe pushes in deep, bending his body over yours so his chest presses against yours, rough material of his button down shirt rubbing against your sensitive nipples.

“i told him that i wouldn’t even let him look at your pussy for a million dollars. that’s how special it is. do you like feeling that special?” rafes hips start to move again as you let out a little whimper, now fucking you deep and hard.

“do you like knowing how many men want to fuck you?” he asks, standing back straight so he can get good leverage to move faster. “how much money men are willing to pay just to be in your mouth?”

your hands fist in the bed sheets as rafe continues, bringing one thumb to rub over your clit. “answer me, princess. do you like it?” “yes.” you moan. “it makes me feel sexy.”

“you are sexy, baby.” rafe says, moaning when you squeeze around him as his thumb rubs just right. “you gonna cum f’me?” he asks.

“yes, i’m close.” you say, eyes rolling back in your head as rafe moves faster, and when you feel his cock swell inside of you, you can’t hold back any longer, cumming around him and triggering his own orgasm, his hips pressing deep into you as he cums, thumb slowing down as you work through it.

“shh, good girl.” rafe says when you whine as he pulls out, tucking his cock back into his pants and redoing them. “you did so good tonight, baby, i’m proud of you.” rafe leans over you and gives you a kiss.

“how about i get everything ready for us to go home while you rest on the bed, hm?” rafe asks, helping you slide up the bed and get under the covers. he never brings the drug business home, meaning you often rent out airbnbs for the nights that you let the men pay to use you.

“mkay.” you mumble, eyes already sliding closed now that you’re under the warmth of the blanket.

“love you.” rafe says, kissing your forehead.

“love you too.” you manage to say before sleep takes you.

#reupload!#kinktober #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron drabble #obx fic #obx x reader

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chrollohearttags · 1 year

Note

rich tech ceo!zeke hcs pls😫

oooh! this is a good one. 😫 Because picture him being a tech CEO with this multi-million dollar company, pursuing (y/n), the owner and founder of a new rising business and him being unable to sway her as easily as all the other women he’s pursued.

cw: black fem reader, zeke being a bit of a narcissist but reader being a badder bitch, alcohol use, sexual content, oral (f. receiving), sub (ish) zeke, hair pulling, smoking

rich tech ceo!zeke is every bit the epitome of the stereotypical CEO and ‘self made billionaire.’ Selling everyone the bootstraps, ‘dollar and a dream’, ideology when in reality, a nice little loan from daddy helped offset his business venture.

rich tech ceo!zeke began his company at only 19 years old, tinkering around with old phones and computers, curating software that would work universally on either device. Doing so while attending some upscale university and trying to figure out a way to decrease his homework load.

upon stumbling across the idea, he worked tirelessly to create programs that would help not only students but professionals as well better manage their time and resources. Instantly thrusting him into the spotlight. Putting him alongside names like Jobs, Gates and Hawking. He was well on his way to notoriety and fame.

rich tech ceo!zeke amassed over five million in his first year and went on to average ten million a year after that. He grew to be among the richest men in the world and even graced Forbes’ 30 Under 30. He was a man of much wealth and high status, believing there’s nothing money can’t buy. Flaunting it all every chance he gets. That is until he comes across (y/n) (l/n).

rich tech ceo!zeke first stumbles across your name when he sees you featured in the same issue special and learns that you’re being deemed as the woman who’s ‘changing the face of business forever’ with your all in one revolutionary app that allows people to shop black owned businesses in one place (think the Miiriya app).

zeke sees this as not only super creative but lucrative as well and wants to see what the fuss is about..he gets his moment when he gets word that you are looking for extra shareholders to invest.

“Set up a meeting with this miss (L/N). I think with the right amount of pressure and incentive, she’ll sell to us entirely.”

rich tech ceo!zeke is met with the shock of a lifetime when he sees the stunning beauty, standing at half his height in a sleek black dress and gorgeous brown skin complexion walking in with a team of lawyers, ready to discuss business. But he can’t keep his eyes off of you.

it’s during this meeting that things become intense and the two of you engage in a heated battle of negations. Throwing subtle slams at one another..

“Well Ms. (L/N), with all due respect..your profits haven’t been nearly as maximized as they could be. With our help, you could have something truly amazing on your hands.” “Well with all disrespect, Mr. Jaeger..I’ve gotten this far without you or anyone else helping me so I have to disagree.”

rich tech ceo!zeke, who’s never had anyone in his life, less known a woman, talk to him in such a way is beside himself. Not only because you matched his energy but that fiery attitude turned him on.

rich tech ceo!zeke knows that your paths have to cross again, even if it isn’t in a business setting. Asking his assistant to set up a dinner for the two of you to further discuss things for his own agenda and is feeling himself when you accept, just knowing that you’d never shoot down someone like him. Not to mention his offer of buying you out for $1.6M

“I figured you’d accept but I'm glad you’re here.” “I'm a very busy woman and my time is very precious, please don’t ever waste it with a bullshit offer like that ever again”

rich tech ceo!zeke quickly learns you’re not going to be easy to crack. But he’s so enamored with you, he keeps trying every underhanded tactic to get your attention. Not just for business but pleasure as well. Until finally, you call his bluff.

“I only deal with real men, Mr. Jaeger. Not sneaky little boys…if you want me or my business, you approach me as such.”

rich tech ceo!zeke, who finds himself in your office of the new high rise building in the city, running a hand up your thighs in a last ditch effort to sweep your innovation out from under you, realizes he’ll have to work a whole lot harder and maybe even grovel a bit. And at this point, he’s desperate because he’s never been told ‘no’ a day in his life.

“I’m sure we can work out some sort of deal, but first, there’s something I need you to do for me.”

rich tech ceo!zeke, who finds himself underneath your desk with your legs spread wide and Giuseppe heels resting on his shoulders as he flicks his tongue greedily around your clit; feasting as you guide his head along with your hand. Even snagging one of his cigarettes from his pocket; igniting it as he eats you out.

“You know, you look much cuter with your mouth shut..”

rich tech ceo! zeke, who can’t believe he’s been all hit reduced to your personal playtoy is so humiliated that he’s begging you but can’t get over how good you taste.

rich tech ceo!zeke, who’ll never be the same after running across you..his rival turned secret lover.

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passivenovember · 8 months

Text

"Hey, isn't that Steve?"

Billy almost drops the vase in hand. It's about a hundred and thirty fucking degrees out anyway and it's not even noon so his palms are tiny oil slicks, but he's done good, so far.

He's been careful. Happy to finally unveil his fall collection to the hundreds of Instagram follower's who've been on his ass since July--

But Heather opens her mouth and says, "Shit, Bill, I think that is Steve," peering over Billy's shoulder with these comically large brown eyes, and usually it would be kinda funny.

But the thing is, Heather's working his last fucking never in the way only a best friend can.

She had to be dragged out of their apartment this morning, kicking and screaming until Billy forked out ten bucks to get a starbucks coffee in her even though they already agreed to split today's profits 90/10 because he needed help with the maker's fair.

Billy didn't even get a coffee himself, they were running so late, and by the time the Camaro screeched down Millwork street, kicking up a cloud of dust as Billy frantically searched for the vendor entrance, it was almost 10:00 am. The bitchy volunteer at the gate almost refused to give him the tent he shelled out $200 for because check-in was at 8:00 am and it's almost 10:00, now.

Like Billy can't tell time. So.

He's not in the mood for games or jokes or teasing. Really not in the mood, like. He might drop the cashier lock box in Heather's hands and vanish, all, take your 10% and shove it in your ass, not in the mood.

But Heather trips around the folding table, dropping Billy's favorite plaid table linen in the dirt to clutch and grab at his shoulder like a scared kid.

"Heather," Billy snaps, stooping to save it from the dust with his free hand, "Holloway, I swear to fucking God--"

"Look," Heather spats. Her nails dig into his armpit when she spins him around, and.

Steve's there.

Huh.

He's wearing a volunteer t-shirt. And a fanny pack. And his extra-strength 50 SPF sunscreen hasn't been rubbed into his cheeks all the way so they look like sugar glazed apples where he sits in his little folding chair, two tents over at Robin's candle booth. Laughing.

And. Billy hasn't heard that laugh in what feels like a lifetime.

His bones ache with it, rebuilding around the loss he never really processed but has grown to ignore out of survival's sake. Steve's laugh, it. It's Billy's favorite sound in the entire world.

They haven't spoken in three months.

Not since Steve was inside of him, pumping slow and hard with his hands behind Billy's knees, folding him in half as he mouthed sweetness into Billy's throat.

You're so beautiful, tongue lavish against Billy's fluttering heartbeat, You're mine, baby. I want you to be mine. I love--

Behind them, Milk & Marigold's assistant drops something heavy and it shatters. Hundreds of eyes turn in their direction, dozens of frazzled vendors and their teams alarmed at the sudden stillness, and.

Robin, who grins widely at Heather, and. Steve. Locking eyes with Billy as all the color drains from his face.

"Holy shit," Heather's nails press deeper into Billy's arm, somehow, and Billy thinks, distantly, that she might draw blood.

He doesn't care.

Steve's looking at him. For the first time in months, the world is right and Billy can breathe again and about a trillion and thirty things rush through head, rapid firing so he doesn't have the mental space to register the way plot seventeen aches to topple to the parking-lot under foot.

Somewhere, back on Earth, Milk & Marigold's assistant gets his ass handed to him for being so reckless, and slowly. Shyly. Steve lifts a hand and waves.

Billy's going to drop plot seventeen. He grips its amber neck, instead, carless of the rippling clay under his fingertips. "Very funny," Billy says, turning on his heel. He sticks the vase between plots sixteen and eighteen, his jaw so tense it could hack and slash the sky. "I can't believe this. This is such a fucking joke--"

"--Shit--"

"--I can't believe I thought I wouldn't see him here, I mean. Robin's got a business too, right? A side hustle?"

"Candles, or something. Yeah."

"Of course she'd be here. And if she's here then. Fuck, I should've thought about this more," Billy says, tugging all ten fingers through his hair, "God, I should've just launched the fall collection online, like a normal--"

"Billy?"

Billy stands ramrod straight. All the air rushes from his lungs, his hair standing on end as if the tent overhead has grown lips and is talking to Billy in his father's voice.

It's not that.

Steve could never be that because he's better. Holy.

Steve's so much more real, up close. His hair is longer than the last time Billy saw him, his cheeks and jaw dusted with a prickly 5'oclock that gives way to a mustache up top.

It's incredibly sexy.

Billy hates it, on site, because Steve's moles are hidden like a secret. A sun-ripe memory of the first thing Billy ever loved about him.

"Wow. I didn't think I'd see you here, today," Steve says. His eyes hunt over Billy's face, warm and familiar and so, so soft despite all the shit that Billy said the last time they saw each other.

It hangs in the air, stuck like a wedge between them.

"Billy," Steve says again, soft and full of wonder and ready to scale the enormity of their past. Billy forgot how his name holds weight, when Steve says it. Extra syllables and consonants, worth their stake in gold.

Billy clears his throat. Longs for a glass of water, "Hey," He says, when really he means, I'm sorry, and, please never go away again. I'm a bad man and I was afraid but if you give me another chance, I promise I won't push you away, because I love--

Heather clears her throat.

Billy jerks his head in her direction, dizzy as the world fades back into focus. "Sorry," He says, weary, "I'm an asshole. Steve, this is--"

"Heather," Steve shakes her hand, smile gorgeous and winning, "I know, we met, I think. Once or twice when I was on my way out of the apartment."

Billy's going to pass out.

He's dizzy and sick to his stomach, and then. Steve looks at him, and his gaze settles like a warm, solid weight over Billy so he can't float away. "It's a nice apartment," Steve says shyly, "Felt like home."

Billy wasn't expecting this. To see Steve, let alone talk about the apartment, and--

"Billy," Heather says, clapping her hands together once, "How about I go and see if Robin has any extra tent weights?"

"Sure," Billy says, and Steve smiles at him, and then Billy smiles because Steve's always had that effect on people.

Heather scampers off and Steve shrugs, his hands slipping into his pockets. "You look good," Steve says.

Billy's palms are sweating. "So do you."

"Thanks. I feel like shit. I didn't realize you'd be here, even though I could've guessed, if I had a moment to rest with my own thoughts. Robin's working on her fall collection--"

"--Right--"

"--and I guess you are, too. Well," Steve tugs a hand through his hair and it poofs up big like fresh whipped cream, and Billy has missed him so desperately that his ribs rack and break, "That's a lie. I don't have to guess. I know for a fact you're fixing to launch your fall collection."

Billy frowns, "How do you know that?"

"I follow you on Instagram," Steve says, like he's expecting to get told off.

But.

It does something, to the atmosphere. Shifts things. Billy thought he'd blocked Steve on everything, after the first drunken voicemail, but.

Apparently not.

"Yeah, well. The suburban moms love my shit," Billy crosses his arms over his chest, suddenly freezing.

Steve's gaze gets caught on the swell of Billy's arms. "Billy," He starts.

"Look, it's almost noon," Billy says, heartbroken.

Steve doesn't seem to get it. But then his eyes get big and watery, like Heathers, and Billy wants to wrap him in a blanket. "Right," Steve says, "Market's opening soon."

"Right."

"Sorry, I know you still have to set up."

"No sweat."

"Look, Billy--"

"It was good to see you, Steve."

It presses down on them. Everything.

Steve's eyes close like doors. "Sure," He says, and then he's gone.

Apparently, word gets around for events like this.

For the first few hours Billy doesn't have time to mull over his interaction with Steve, because they're slammed with wave after wave of eager Saturday Morning buyers.

Billy's feet ache by noon as Heather works the cash box and he makes laps around the tent, restocking and catching up with repeat buyers.

The event volunteers swing by every thirty minutes or so to make sure they have everything they need, dropping off bottled water and drink tickets, and by two Billy's happy he won't be going home with a trunk full of merchandise.

He counts the cash box, whooping when he realizes that their 90/10 won't shake out too badly. "We did pretty damn good, Heath, and it's only 2:00."

Heather's already used her drink tickets on a couple of Bloody Mary's. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

"I heard there's a fried hotdog thing on a stick down by the food trucks," Heather says, and she giggles like any sort of weenie could pique her interest. "That doesn't sound good to you?"

"Eh," Billy says, leaning back in his chair, "I've been trying this intermittent fasting thing. I eat a big fuckin' breakfast of mostly protein, and then a light lunch around 3:00, and a small dinner--"

"That's so fucking stupid."

Billy frowns, "Gotta keep in shape."

"For who?" Heather demands. "It's not like you're whoring yourself out anymore, and you're not gonna let one of your old flings back into the apartment., much less your heart."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Heather's cheeks are red, as if she's been sitting in the sun all morning. Billy knows her well enough to get that she probably doesn't mean any harm by it, but her words sting, anyway.

"There are other guys in New York, Heather."

"You don't want to get to know other guys, Billy."

"Bullshit. I know you're a nosy lesbian with too much attitude wedged in her a-cup bra to notice, but some of us aren't looking for love. Some of us would rather fuck random losers."

"That's so not you."

"It's a good distraction. I could use one of those."

"It's kinda hilarious," Heather rolls her eyes, "Even you don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about protecting people."

"People like Steve?"

Billy snaps the cash box shut. "You're so bad at conversation Segway's."

"Fuck you, I'm really clever and stealthy."

"Did you talk to Robin about this," Billy demands, watching slack-jawed and furious as pink floods Heather's cheeks. "My thing with Steve isn't any of your business, and it's not interesting enough to warrant all your fucking medaling."

"I just think--"

"I don't care what you think."

"Why would you react like that when you saw each other?" Heather sits flush to the edge of her lawn chair, shoulders squared for a fight. "If what happened between you meant nothing and you'd really rather skip the greasy market-food for some imaginary sex pot you can blow and dump on Cornelia Street the second you're through with him, why would your heart stop beating when--"

Billy shakes his head. "I don't care what you and Robin have to say, I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a piece of shit, alright?" Billy snaps. "What happened with Steve, it. It was inevitable, okay? He said he loved me, and I loved him and I still do but that doesn't fucking matter because he's Steve and I'm Billy and I could never be half good enough, alright? Happy?"

When Heather doesn't say anything, Billy shoves back from the table.

"Where are you going?" Heather asks, voice small and awful.

"I'm having my two drinks," Billy says, padding quickly onto the already crowded street.

As far as Billy's concerned, calories don't exist when it comes to alcohol.

He finds the nearest bar cart and orders two shots of dark liquor, even though it usually makes his stomach go on strike, and shells out seven dollars of his own single-person salary for a French 75.

Then he starts walking.

And walking.

At another bar cart, Billy can't stop thinking about the first time he ever saw Steve, pulsing like a brand new heart under club lights, pretty with the kind of looks that made Billy mentally ill. So he shells out another $20 on a girly pink drink with a paper mâché umbrella.

It tastes like strawberries and Steve used to taste like strawberries in the summertime. Billy can't remember what he was so upset about, before.

He feels good. In control.

But then he gets lost somewhere near Broadway and just as he figures out how to get back to his tent, where Heater is likely up to her eyeballs in impatient customers and guilt about being endlessly right in all things, Billy spots Steve balancing a funnel cake on one arm.

His nose is red. Strawberry dappled, which means he's drunk, and he's got a cup of pale ale pinched between his teeth as he figures out how to hold his market load.

The only problem is, Steve's gorgeous and so, so fucking stupid he can't figure out that he's got two hands.

It makes Billy's heartache, thumping a little harder to the left, and he can't remember why he ever left Steve rumpled in a hotel room that night, half-hard and brokenhearted, so Billy takes the rest of his drink like a shooter, and marches up to Steve and says, "You really should be locked up somewhere."

It's meant to hurt. And bruise.

But Steve's whole face lights up and he drops the ale down the front of his volunteer shirt. "Billy," he says, sounding way too bright and happy. Soaked through.

"Shit, your uniform--"

"It's okay, thing's almost over anyway."

"Stop being so nice."

"Okay," Steve says easily, "You're an asshole, and you broke my heart, and now I'm all wet."

"Well, since we're being honest."

Steve frowns. "I dreamed about seeing you again, you know? How you'd. Have too many drinks and look at me and say you haven't been able to get it up since we split.

"I can always get it up," Billy tires flatly, and Steve smirks. It's small and barely there, but. Billy swallows thickly, "I am an asshole. You're right. A drunk asshole."

"Me too. I know."

"I was worried about hurting you," Billy admits in a rush, "I didn't want to disappoint you. I thought I wasn't ready for what we had to be more than just sex, but it already was."

"--Okay--"

"I never bottomed before," Billy blurts out. "I can get it up. You make me pop too quick, you're just. You're perfect and you're kind. You're every wet dream I ever had rolled into one, Steve." The sidewalk is waving, a little. Steve looks like he wants to touch Billy, to reach out and steady him, but he's already holding a funnel cake.

Steve nods.

Encouraging and soft and kind as ever, and Billy's never felt safe with anyone, like this. So, Billy says, choking a little, "I never let another person touch me, like that. My body or anything else. I never did. You're so good, Steve. So I let you touch me and it changed me and I don't know how to be anything else than a drunk, whining asshole. But we happened and I never ached for it before, it fucking. Knocked me on my ass, Steve. You came in and you knocked me on my ass, and--"

"Billy--"

"God, I love it when you say my name," Billy says. He wonders, distantly, what kind of mojo they put in that girly little cocktail because he can't stop talking.

Steve doesn't seem to mind, but he says, "You really hurt me," Picking at the golden crisp of his funnel cake. "Seriously, Bill, I didn't think I was gonna survive it."

Billy's knees almost give out, he's. Hot all over. Burning up with feverish grief. "I'm sorry," he says. He's a hole in the center of the universe.

"I know."

"I was afraid."

"I get that," Steve says. He shuffled the funnel cake in his hands, and Billy wonders how the bottom's not soggy yet, damaged and ready to fall out. Steve puts it on the ground. "Shit's gross."

"Yeah."

"Do you wanna," Steve says, frowning, "We could walk. And talk about it, more."

"Sure."

"I'm not saying we can get back together yet--"

"--Yet--"

"I missed you," Steve says, and he's bright as the sun.

Billy's been freezing to death his whole life, so. He draws close. Takes Steve's hand, "I missed you, too," He says. "Maybe we should get you a dry shirt?"

#harringrove #guys this truly is just word vomit #anyway!#hope you liked it lol #because i didn't do any editing #lol #love ya!

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madschiavelique · 8 months

Text

Cursed Vampire!Miguel O'Hara

Okay so i came back from this tiny pause and idk why but a sudden hit of vampire diaries content has been multiplying all over my medias after i returned fully and ooo boi

vampire miguel

but not any vampire miguel

cursed vampire!miguel

on the 30th of august i did a spell for the blue moon in pisces and i was guided by my witchy friend who reminded me about the 4 elements and their usage in witchcraft : if you want something fast you use fire (candles), something that is a bit less faster and that purifies you use air (incent for instance), something that takes a little longer and that you use to heal you use water (rain, rivers, moon water etc) and if you want to make something to last in time, you use earth (burying something in the earth for instance)

and she punctuated this recall by “which is why curses are most of the time buried in the earth, because it lasts in time”

and I was like

yea cursed vampire miguel

but with a twist

content warnings : mentions of blood, killings, miguel trying to kill himself but failing, general vampire stuff and some personal lore i elaborated word count : 4,6k (not proofread)

Let’s imagine the setting. A little village lost in the middle of nowhere, Miguel being perhaps mayor, or even just chief of the village if we go back enough in time to a point where electricity was still just a thing you could see when lightning was striking in the sky but had no place in your home.

He owns the biggest house, a manor with multiple rooms and multiple people living in it ranging from normal villagers to servants. Is he a member of the aristocracy ? Not so much, let’s say that he was a hard worker in the fields or something that involved him getting them big muscles (lumberjack perhaps, who knows) and that he revolted against a previous higher up that owned the place.

Xina, his lover at the time, was a witch, hiding the village. She had helped Miguel with her magic without him knowing when he made the rebellion happen. See, she was ambitious, and if Miguel could help her reach her goals, then she’d use him to her own profit. But one more thing, she was deeply in love with him.

And he did love her, until one thing happened. Dana, Dana D’Angelo happened.

Xina believed in many things, in spirits, in demons, in deities, but if there was one thing she didn’t believe in was second chances.

And so, she cursed him, for you don’t play with a woman’s heart, even less with a witch's one.

It had been a few days since the symptoms of this curse still unknown to his consciousness had started spreading within his body.

First, the same night she was executing the ritual, he couldn’t sleep well. He felt heavy, and yet his head felt airy like it was full of cotton. He felt feverish, his shaking body boiling one last time before his life would turn to eternal ice. He had weird dreams that night, altering between horrors and his eyes opening to his window, looking at the full moon.

The next day felt odd, he had this sort of dryness that never left his mouth, and no matter how much he passed his tongue on the inside of it or drunk anything, it stayed parched. The difficulty and surprise settled in when he tried to eat his breakfast but his silverware burned him. He ended up taking something that did not necessitate him to cut, an apple, a fruit, something to satiate the sharp hunger that burned in his body.

He didn’t like seeing people much in the morning, but considering how many lived in this place, he’d have to face them some time or later. And the light, the light from outside felt… too bright for his eyes. The chandeliers that were still getting lit up in the corridors didn’t burn his eyes though, so why ?

That night, he couldn’t sleep. The next day, going outside felt like an army of ants were crawling under his skin as he got under the sun, and these tingles lasted all day, until at the end of it the tingles had turned into a slight burning. He didn’t understand, it was winter, and here he was catching sunburns.

And the next day, another symptom added itself to the list. Why did the people surrounding him smelled so good ? Why did he feel like being near anyone gave him the sensation that he had not eaten anything for days and that they were smelling exactly like the one thing he craved for and needed ?

And then he couldn’t see himself any more in the mirrors, and cutlery felt like he was touching hell, and being outside was like being in hell. And when he passed someone that felt so good, why were his nails elongated into claws ? He definitely ruined some curtains at some point because he was trying to retract them.

And… wait, Xina hadn’t been much around lately. Why couldn’t he get a grasp of her ? Why did he never cross her way ? Had she discovered about his affair ?

And then, one night, when the multiple symptoms had added and fixed themselves entirely in Miguel’s body, his entire property started acting weird around him.

He could hear their whispers, their hearts beating in their chests and pumping blood in their entire body, he could smell their singular perfumes from metres away : everything felt as heightened as dull.

More and more people started leaving their place from the manor. They had heard rumours, rumours saying that he was a malfeasant being, that he had organised the rebellion for power and that he intended to turn everyone here slaves to his demonic energy.

Soon enough, only Miguel remained in the manor. He was more and more absent, living as a recluse in his own part of his quarters.

And one night, as someone was banging heavily on his doors, he came downstairs. As he opened them, he saw that the villagers that had been living under the same roof with him for several months were armed, ready to stab or spike him.

Of course, Xina was at the center of the group. Followed what looked like a fight, but Miguel was almost twice bigger than most of them, and ten times stronger, so he massacred most of the rebels against him until the remaining ones decided to leave the village.

Xina came to him, and told him :

"You have grievously offended me by your cheating, and this crime against me is an affront I could not let pass. Hence, I have cursed you."

Miguel tried to attack her, but as his claws tried to dig into her, he was violently pushed away and his back came into contact with a wall, he fell to the ground, remaining seated against it. Xina walked towards him.

"You can't do anything to me," she said, a pale glow glimmering around her as the sort of crystal crisalide that surrounded her faded at the lack of impact against it.

"What have you done to me?" he breathed.

"I told you, I cursed you," she knelt. "I made you a vampyr."

he looks at her, his eyes finally turning red. She smiled. He had heard of these creatures of legend, these stories made to frighten children and the superstitious, but he had never thought that he would become one in his turn.

"You should be happy, I've given you the gift of immortality. I told myself that eternity would be enough time for you to reflect on your actions," she said, tilting her head to one side. "The few friends you have left will die, those around me will die too, and much later it will be my turn to die. But you, you will remain. Children age, lovers perish. Kingdoms are born and burn up, and you, you will go on."

He didn't want eternity. Why want it when you know the world you live in, but did he really have a choice?

"But you see, even in my revenge I will remain merciful. I offer you two solutions." she said, raising her hand next to her head to count the options. "The first, you find my curse, and destroy it, which will return you to mortal rank." Hope sprang up in Miguel's now cold mind. "Secondly, you find someone who will love you despite what you are and be prepared to forgive all your faults and misdeeds. However, they won't bring mortality back to you, you'll simply be able to change them into a being just like you, and to live with that person for eternity." She rose to her feet, looking down on him before saying her last words:

"Farewell, Miguel O'Hara. The secret of my curse will be taken to my grave. You were my first and last love. You took hold of my heart and crushed it. If you fail to find my curse, choose well." Choose well.

She left, leaving him alone. Remorse, Regret, Guilt and Anger mingled within him in his grey heart. He was alone.

The first decades and the first century were most complex. First of all, he searched the entire region, every piece of land and stone, for Xina's curse. His first instinct was to go to the room she occupied in the manor house, but she had taken everything she owned with her. He went to his family home, searching every room with great interest. But there was nothing.

He searched the library of his manor for information on witches and their rituals, and the only information he could find was that most curses were buried in the ground.

Days, weeks, months of digging everywhere, and nothing. Strictly nothing. The despair of loneliness overtook him earlier than he thought, and soon enough, he tried to put an end to it.

He tried many times. To make matters worse, all the silver objects he used for everything had been taken away by the villagers. The coup had been prepared, Xina had planned everything so that he would have to live with himself.

Hanging himself was useless, as he could no longer breathe, and the cutlery, which was not made of silver, bent against his skin when he tried to stab himself. All night he tried, and when the time finally came for the sun to rise, he placed himself in full sunlight, telling himself that the tingling would be enough to finish him off.

But nothing, the sun stung his pale skin slightly, but didn't go any further. The sensation was slightly unpleasant, but he wasn't suffering terribly. Trying to stay all day in the sun to try and burn himself was useless, for when night came, his skin healed by itself.

Rage hung in his stomach as much as hunger, but he smelt something so enticing that for a moment he wondered if normal blood was flowing through his veins again and he was alive. A simple passer-by had come too close to the village, and Miguel had let his gnawing desire for something to eat get the better of him, draining all the energomer's blood in just a few seconds.

It didn't take him long to become addicted to the feeling of life that filled him everytime he drank blood. He couldn't live like a human again right? So he would take whatever human life he could find on his path.

He knew of a small village nearby where he could feast. It took him a long time to learn to control his appetite, but it took less to learn that his curse had given him an intoxicating beauty that attracted all those he desired. Another of Xina's cruel tricks, he told himself, people will simply be blinded by my aura, thinking they love me when it's really just cursed desire.

He began methodically, taking the inhabitants back to his manor one by one. The first few times he drank them raw, but soon he got used to not drinking all their blood and making them his reserves. They were intoxicated, he could do whatever he wanted with them, but above all: their blind desire made them immensely loyal. None of them ran away, none of them refused to have their blood drunk, and even if Miguel told them to leave, they were far too pained by the thought and preferred to stay.

When the village was hit by an epidemic of a disease, Miguel went there to dump the few corpses that had not survived his bites, so that his business could pass incognito.

He knew of a town not far away and how difficult it was to house all its inhabitants. He went there, explaining to the mayor that he had recently bought a piece of land not far away with old abandoned houses that could help. "What a generous man," said the mayor, and soon enough much of the overcrowded town found itself reviving the village.

Miguel was an experimentalist in his approach to humans. It was so strange to have to deal with them in this way, not as people like himself, but as prey and how he would go about capturing them.

In particular, he was experimenting with his physical abilities. Some twenty years later, when the village was well established, he was tempted to go to the village pub. He could drink as much as he liked and didn't get drunk, he could carry heavy loads without any problem, and he gave himself over to the desires of the flesh with an excpetional energy that pleased all his partners - although they all complained about his icy body.

A century later, all was well, he had once again continued his trick of taking various villagers to his home and making them his delicacies, but he was doing it more sparingly. Humans became less foolish with time, and soon disappearances became too much of a topic in the village. Miguel was finally suspected, after a series of attempts to pin the blame on other suspects.

The slaughter was terrible, and the bottles of wine he filled with blood in the huge cellar of his manor house multiplied until he no longer had to hunt for a long time.

The company of men had become too boring for him. He had become bitter towards them, finding them profoundly idiotic. So he locked himself away in his books, and only left his manor occasionally to go and get more.

But Miguel was no longer interested in finding a way to end it all, he now wanted to get on with feeding his intellect and perhaps, who knows, one day help humans to make this world a better place and become less stupid.

Fifty years later you arrived. You had fled from a village further afield and found this one, which seemed untouched and empty, just what you needed to live peacefully.

You entered the manor house, and unlike all the other dwellings in the area, this one didn't seem so dilapidated and abandoned. You were convinced that someone was living there as soon as you saw one of the chandeliers lit. You arrived in the library, which was by far the least dusty part of the house, and for good reason - Miguel hardly ever went out of it. You found him sitting in his armchair with a book in his hand.

Miguel was 232 at the time, and had long since forgotten the second chance that Xina had offered him. And now that he was a more mature vampyr who didn't attack everything that moved, he managed to strike up a conversation with you.

He was intrigued that a human had arrived here, it's been a long time since he'd seen one. At first he was bothered that you were disturbing his calm and solitude, and he hesitated to kill you on the spot, just like that, without you having time to wonder what was happening.

But when you explained that you'd run away from your village, he was intrigued. And his interest was further piqued when he learned that the reason you had fled was that you were suspected of practising witchcraft, and therefore should be burnt. You didn't really seem like much of a threat, but then again, Xina didn't seem much of a threat either...

He also noticed that his charms weren't working on you, as you were obviously protected. His trained nose detected garlic in your necklace and bracelet, mixed with other herbs that wouldn't do him any good if he were to come to close to them.

Garlic cleanses, it 'purifies', it's a very good antibiotic like lemon (which repels spiders). Vampyrism would have been considered a blood disease, which in Miguel's eyes was not far from the truth.

Eating garlic purified the bacteria present in the blood and, according to some people, would either turn a vampyr back into a normal person or cause their death. The plague came from miasmas, and strong smells like garlic and spices kept them away, which was a reason in the collective mind for vampyrs to use them as a repelling weapon. These little things wouldn't do him much harm, but their influence was enough for you to not feel his hypnoze.

He agreed to let you stay with him, and went so far as to hunt animals for you and bring you vegetables from his garden so that you could eat properly. Why did he keep you with him when he could no longer stand humans and you could be a danger to him? It's quite simple.

Vampyrs aren't sentimental, the only state that comes close to love or attraction for them is obsession, and it didn't take Miguel long to develop one for you. Second, after so many years of loneliness, sharing some parts of his days with someone felt good. And then there was the fact that you were a witch, and that with a bit of luck you'd be able to help him put an end to his curse.

You started off naively enough, but you were curious about vampyrs and kept asking him questions on the subject:

"Why can't you see yourselves in the mirror?"

He sighs, taking you to a room in the manor where stood an old mirror. He took your arm and placed you with him in the reflection. You could only see your own reflection, and just as you were about to marvel in your shudder, Miguel explains:

"That mirror you see there is made of steel, a material that could be lethal to me, and is a formidable weapon against my kind. I'd advise you not to try and break it to attack me, that would be a serious mistake. Most of the mirrors there were in my time were made of steel, and since then they've started to make..." he led you further into a corridor where there was another mirror, "made of aluminium."

He placed you in front of it again, and this time you could see your reflection in the mirror. He was so tall compared to you, and so powerful... a shiver ran down your spine as your eyes met.

"With fae, they can't see themselves in lead, it's their Achilles heel." he said before letting you go and moving on.

You didn't feel any particular hatred towards vampyrs, more a certain curiosity, and obviously a fright. These creatures had been alive for so long, had seen empires fall, kingdoms be born, wars break out, and they had lived through so much...

Miguel had almost forgotten the need for humans to sleep. Fortunately, there was still one bed for you to occupy: Miguel's.

It was a bit dusty, and you even joked to Miguel that you were surprised it wasn't a coffin. He sighed as he got your bed ready, thinking that if you hoped to make friends in such a mediocre way he'd already regret his decision to keep you.

But that didn't stop him watching over you while you slept.

You seemed so peaceful like that, abandoned to the world of dreams, of your insignificant little life. Your frailty fascinated him. And to think that he himself had once been like that...

Your days were quiet, there weren't many exciting activities. You were used to picking and working all day in your village, but here you had nothing to do.

So you chatted to Miguel, listening to him tell you a bit about his whole life. In 232 years of existence one must have a few amusing anecdotes to tell, don't you think? You spent almost all of your time together, and it wasn't long before you started to have feelings for him.

You were afraid, afraid of what he would think, that he would tell you that "it was to be expected, humans are so easily corrupted. You don't love me, you're simply attracted by the beauty that was given to me to attract you."

But you knew it wasn't that evil charm that had got you, it was him all over. Perhaps you should avoid him? Maybe you should leave...

Miguel had felt the change in you, heard how your heart beat a little faster and stronger when you spoke to him, noticed the change in your attitude, especially when he caught you deep in thought. You were hiding something from him, and he was curious to know what.

One evening, when you'd pretended to go to bed, you came down the stairs, grabbed a few provisions that you'd packed in your basket in the kitchen, and silently walked through the big door. It wrung your heart to leave, but a human and a vampyr are an impossible love story. It was only a few minutes later, as your smell and the presence of your warmth began to disappear, that Miguel looked up from his book and your absence hit him right in the throat.

You trudged along on the muddy ground, the snow falling on your body and chilling you despite your coat. A sound of wind as swift and as a sharp blade on a stone brushed against your ear when Miguel was standing in front of you. You stopped walking, watching the prince of the night who was not afraid of the cold let himself be caressed by the snowflakes. None of them melted on his skin.

"What are you doing?" he asked, even though the question sounded almost like a threat.

"I realised that my humanity would be my undoing soon enough in your presence, and so I chose to leave."

"Why," he questioned as he moved closer to you until you had to tilt your head back in the hope of continuing to look him in the eye.

Your heart raced, "My personal affections towards you have shifted."

"Shifted?" he enquired as his hand gently came to clear the melted flakes from your cheeks, or was it your tears? "How have they shifted?"

"They became... omnipresent."

A slight smile stretched his lips as his fingers passed under your chin

"Tell me about them." an order, a necessity.

"They... they make me feel different." you say as your voice shrivels.

"How different," he says as he leans in and brings his face close to yours.

"Warm, and fuzzy," you whispered, "and make my every thoughts come back to... you."

Your breath catches on his lips, his red eyes never leaving yours.

"Am I the object of your love, mi vida?" His breath was cold, and exuded death.

"Yes, you are," you confirm as your voice cracks.

He came to kiss you, the coolness of his lips even colder than the night, and you shivered as the contrast with your skin and the sensation of passion in his kiss sent tingles to the back of your skull.

In as many years of existence, you're the only one who's managed to make him feel human again, and that's enough for him.

"Let's bring you back inside, alright?" he said as he parted from your lips to lift you up in one fell swoop into his princess arms.

And so your relationship gradually metamorphosed, each day sweeter and more fused than the last, until finally the time came for Miguel to think about making you his eternal bride.

What a vile gift she had given him, to allow him to turn you into such a loathsome, despicable, odious being. This choice was going to deprive you of so many things. From the sunlight going from caress to crush, your appetite capsizing, your inability to sleep again. And he didn't want to deprive you of your life.

He didn't want to turn you into such a monstrosity, but you reassured him, explaining that there was nothing in the world that would make you shy away from being with him. Besides, was a life without him by your side really worth living when you were growing old and he remained eternally young and beautiful?

So, with determination, he finally sank his fangs into your skin and set about turning you into a vampire. He simply let the venom infect your veins without ever, ever drinking your blood.

And your change took place just as his had, over the course of several days. He mopped up your fever, held you close to him when your dreams were strange, got you used to going out in the sun without going too far, and then introduced you to drinking blood. He had forgotten how hungry and powerful a new vampire could be, and seeing you almost empty his entire wine cellar made him shudder: not with regret or disgust, but with euphoria.

Never again would he be alone.

The years went by, and your couple survived every era. The good thing about living forever is that you can always find ways to entertain yourself, and it stays with you over time. You still remember so well, for example, that moment when you swam in that lake moving a poor piece of wood and people nicknamed the legendary creature you had inadvertently created 'the Lochness monster'.

It wasn't until years later, out of curiosity, that Miguel wondered what had become of Xina. And after several months of intensive research around the world, you find her grave.

He had read some of the records of what she had achieved. She had climbed far enough up the social ladder until her decisions were taken seriously by certain governors. But soon enough, when she passed the age of 110 while still looking pretty young for her age, she was accused of witchcraft, and instead of dying at the stake, she stabbed herself in the heart, her relatives burying her here.

The two of you stood by her grave and still insisted on bringing her flowers. But it was as he lowered himself to the ground that Miguel remembered what she'd said: "The secret of my curse will be taken to my grave."

Could it be...

So you both set about digging it all up, digging until you finally found her coffin. You were, after all, creatures of blasphemy, but opening her grave made you hesitate at first. Who knows what spell she might have put on her coffin to ensure that anyone who opened it would be cursed?

But when he opened it and discovered her skeleton, he found nothing.

"You were my first and last love. You grabbed my heart..."

"And you crushed it," he whispered.

He plunged his hand between her empty ribs, until he touched something hard, something that didn't have the texture of bone. He reached for the object, a wooden box sealed with black wax.

"Is it... what I think it is ?" you asked.

He nodded, silent. He wouldn't open it, he'd learned from some of his lessons. With his powerful hand, he crushed the box between his fingers with ease, a cascade of dust mixed with sand, herbs and other objects from the ritual surging through his fingers.

And his body burned with a delicious warmth. The familiarity of the humanity in him completed itself, while for you, too, vitality returned to your veins.

The curse was lifted, and now you could act normally. What a surprise it was when your two bodies touched and the warmth they emanated made you smile. And what a joy it was to be able to eat normally and not get a rash on your skin if you spent too many hours in the sun.

Thus your life ended in peace and love, both of you continuing your lives together peacefully.

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