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3lli3l0v3r · 1 month

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how soon is now? | part one

READ THIS FIRST 🇵🇸

teasers: one. two. series masterlist. next part here!!

♡: hallway crush!ellie x uni student!reader

☆: listen, i know this timeline is kind of ridiculous, but i’ve organized it all best as i can! this is the expanded story based on those first little blurbs introducing the au (reads fine on its own though), and this part specifically was originally going to be one huge fic, but i've ultimately decided to split it up and drop the first part now, because i feel like it ends in a convenient enough space where i can make a separation not so jarring. so that means this will have a direct continuation (how soon is now? 2 ? lol this is so stupid-), and that will be posted soon enough once i finish it! but yes that means after so much waiting, it's finally here for y’all. i literally thought up this silly idea right before i passed out on new years, and never expected y’all to love it so much…but i keep my promises, so here. also love the smiths and felt the title sort of fit. i feel like not too much happens but eh anyway, thank you for waiting, thank you for reading, and please enjoy!

♧:4.6k word count

◇:suggestive but not explicit - horny descriptions and tension, however no smut (for now?….BUT DON'T HOLD ME TO THAT.) no descriptions of reader’s physical appearance, no use of “y/n”, slow-burn construction and loooooads of pining, a lot of build up but stay with me, attempts at occasional foreshadowing, smau elements(text messages lmao), savage starlight is a plot point lol, hallwaycrush!ellie is sort of a mix of loser/modern/university au/dorky-ish ellie I DON'T EVEN KNOW. abby is your bestie, girl what else do i put here- this is just kinda plot, plot, and more plot progression about the whole ordeal, and me indulging my obsession with modern!ellie. (lmk if there's anything to be added!)

“Abbyyyyyyyyyy.”

You rolled around your lifelong best friend’s bed, babbling her ear off while she studied away at her desk, or tried to at least. This situation has been a daily occurrence for weeks at this point.

Laying on your stomach facing away from her, you could hear her scoff in annoyance. “What?” “Please give me some advice..I don't know what I'm even supposed to do. She's driving me up the wall." This crush was the sole thing occupying your poor mind, so naturally, you had to drown your bestie with your troubles as well. That's what friends do. Abby spun around on her chair to face you, with a clearly fed up expression on her face, and leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

“Well I don’t fucking know man, I’ve already given you my best advice, and that's either introduce yourself, or suffer.” She said coolly. You sat up and groaned. Wasn't there an easier way? One that didn't involve actually taking initiative and doing something? Maybe, hypothetically, you ace a test, and the professor announces it in front of everyone as he emotionally congratulates his star student, and she bounds over, beaming. Then tearfully confesses her love and admiration for you- hold on, where the fuck is this going?

“Oh come on, you know I can’t do that..” You gulped a burning bundle of anxiety down as you replayed the scenarios with your obsession for the thousandth time that day, the mere crumbs you were forced to fixate on until you saw her next, the first sighting that started this whole fiasco, and shook your head to clear it and listen to what your best friend had to say. She sighed and rubbed her eyes, slamming her textbook shut and making her way over to sit next to you.

“Listen babe, I love you, but you really gotta get ahold of yourself, alright?” She spoke sternly, looking you straight in the eyes to make sure you understood and absorbed every last word she said. “Listen, here's what you're gonna do. when you pass her in the hall, smile, it's simple but it's a classic, okay? And then you listen to the lecturer as normal, right? I have no idea what you nerds do in astrophysics, but that's besides my point. Make sure to pay attention and not stare only at her like a stalker or something, I cannot stress enough how normal you gotta be. But here's where it gets good, you still with me?”

You're listening to her for sure, and nod vigorously. Crystal clear. She continues, “Okay you said you sit as far as possible from her? Sheesh, why'd you do that? When the class is over I want you to go over to her, and introduce yourself. Catch her on her way out, tap her on the shoulder if you're feeling bold. Ask for some of her contact details, play it cool. Just don't shit yourself, got it? All you gotta do."

Abby finishes her speech, smirking and looking smug. She's positive she got through to you this time. On the surface you're totally chill, confident even, ready to snatch this ethereal being for yourself, however underneath all that you knew you didn't have an ounce of the courage that was required for this seemingly impossible task.

Breathing deeply to calm yourself and try to take in her helpful words as best as possible, you give Abby a hug. “Thank you Abs, really. I'll do my best. Oh, but what if I freak out and start stuttering- or what if I trip and fall on her…I can't do this what the hell.” Swarmed with worry, you start doubting yourself yet again. Burying your face in your palms, you feel two strong hands on either side of your upper arms and you look back at Abby, who's really not playing around anymore.

She was so serious about this it almost scared you. Either she cared about you more than anything, or she wanted to hear the end of these pathetic, lovestruck rambles. You prayed it was the former.

“Suck it up. You can do this. You've had crushes before haven't you? This should be a piece of cake c’mon, I believe in you. Make sure to keep me updated every step of the way! I need to hear every last detail.” She lightens up at the end and releases you from her grip once she sees you've relaxed.

Unsurprisingly, your best friend always knew what to say to snap you out of your spirals. Maybe most would disagree with her methods, say she was being rough, but they worked for you. Heart rate returning to a normal pace, you reply genuinely.

“Okay, okay I got this. Yeah, it'll be fine.” She was getting through to you, this time you felt sure of it. “Good, good. Now will you let me finish this stupid assignment? Then we can watch something or do whatever." Abby chatted as she got up and sat back at her desk, resuming her studious endeavor as she left you with your thoughts.

Immediately you heard her mutter, “All this and you don't even know her goddamn name…good grief.” For the sake of preserving the peace you chose to graciously ignore that one. She said she wanted some quiet, didn't she?

Drifting away into a sea of daydreams, your thoughts inevitably returned to being clouded by this cryptic figure. It was like she'd cast a love spell on you. Did she even know who you were? Or did she shoot everyone those insufferably charming looks of hers. Was she even aware of how fucking cool she was?

Dressed in that deliciously grungy style, you yearned to know what floated behind her greener-than-grass eyes. Her hair looked so smooth and soft, the wispy auburnette strands framing her refined features, intriguing fern tattoo decorating her lean forearm…. You felt your cheeks begin to heat up as a portrait of her materialized in your mind's eye. Nestling into the comfortable atmosphere of your best friend's room, you sunk deeper into your thoughts.

Like Abby had mentioned, it certainly wasn't as if you've never had crushes before, you've certainly had your fair share of them, like most people. But that was a sort of flaky, surface level interest, whether it be for their looks, their little quirks, or ways they treated you. Maybe it has been a while since you'd had a proper crush, but you couldn't recall a time when the infatuation, the pure limerence, had hit you this hard before. You almost felt helpless, just besotted by her.

You simply needed to act on this. Right then and there you steeled yourself, and decided you were going to follow Abby's advice after all, and go after this hallway crush. Worst comes to worst, she turns you down, you get over it eventually, bla bla end of story. It wasn't going to be too complicated, right?

You and Abby had stayed up all night, dusk till dawn, gossiping about things other than your hallway crush, shocking, and you were greatly regretting that decision the very moment it was time to gather your books and get to class.

You really did not feel like stunning everyone around you with a gorgeous outfit today, you were just trying to make it through the day in one piece to be honest with yourself.

With a pounding headache you threw on some mismatched sweats, and ran out the door to be on time. Your bag felt unreasonably heavy as you made your way down your apartment stairs, and you cursed your past self for choosing a building without an elevator. Sure, exercise is healthy, but it can’t be when you’re feeling like a zombie, and wish for nothing more than a good, long nap.

Luckily the lecture hall was a comfortable distance away from your place, not far enough to make it a pain, but enough so you could get a much needed breath of fresh air. The tiredness had pushed all plans of action you and Abby had discussed the previous night to the back of your head, and you weren't thinking of your crush at all. At least for now.

Walking slowly with your gaze pointed downward, you eventually made it to the hall. Completely dazed and zoned out, you made a mental note to never pull an all nighter again, gross, who’s idea was that- thump.

Out of nowhere you're rudely jolted from your silent sulking by colliding with something, or someone? It takes a moment to register what happened, and you quickly look up from staring at the ground to sort the situation out. “Oh my gosh I am so sorry..”

Profusely apologizing while simultaneously being smacked across the face with the realization of who this was. Her. Your words trail off as you’re suddenly winded, and you feel your blood run cold. You’re transfixed by the intense eye contact, and it feels like time has stopped. Goodness, this is dramatic.

In the time it takes for you to briefly die and come back to life, the young woman has lowered her chunky headphones so they rest around her neck, Morissey’s vocals faintly floating out of them, and is looking at your stunned state with an indiscernible sneer playing on her face. Was this actually happening? Holy shit you and Abby did not discuss this scenario…you weren’t looking where you were going and had collided with an actual Earth angel. Great.

Still gawking at her like an absolute buffoon, akin to a deer in headlights, she breaks the tension first, with a smooth voice that you would obey virtually any command for.

“Nah, you’re good.” And a wink. Your heart skipped a beat, or four, when you witnessed her wink at you. Did you imagine it? Was she being suave on purpose or did she have an eyelash in her eye…Was your life a literal rom-com or what?

“Um..” Your mouth opens and closes in an attempt to form a coherent sentence, but your brain is much too fried to do so because, well, you had just made physical contact with the literal girl of your dreams. And gods did she smell good…while you’re unable to tear your eyes away from hers, she keeps talking as if nothing happened.

“I think the prof had an emergency or fuckin’, I dunno.” She stops to gesture around the two of you at the crowd that had formed in front of the auditorium’s double doors with elegant, ring adorned fingers..holy fuck you needed those inside you right fucking now- WHAT.

Briskly shoving those thoughts down to the deepest depths of your subconscious back to where they belong, you turned your attention back to her, and put on a brave front. Hyper aware of how searing hot your face felt, her pretty self didn't show a hint of caring that you were making a fool of yourself. They say that any situation is always worse in your head than it was in actuality, well you hoped so.

“So, what are we supposed to do now?” Clearing your throat you managed a sentence back, hooray. You were doing this. Good job. Although, of course, before the gorgeous nymph before you had a chance to respond with her own assumptions, a substitute lecturer you had never seen before pushes his way through the crowd and unlocks the door while people file in, separating you from her. You felt like Rose, viciously torn away from Jack from Titanic, what a cruel, cruel world this was.

And once again you didn't get to ask her name. Re-slinging her bag with one arm, she looks back at you one final time and throws you a “cya around.” Before disappearing into the auditorium with everyone else. You meekly nod at her and force a lopsided smile, before leaning against the wall to steady yourself after that fiasco in the now empty hallway.

Wasting virtually not a moment of time, you pulled your phone out and began furiously texting Abby with a recount of the events at a speed faster than the speed of light.

Once that excruciatingly torturous class was over, you applauded yourself for containing the stares in her direction and keeping your eyes fixated on the professor. Whether you actually retained any information, now that was a different story. Picking up your bags and laptop, you stay behind for a moment as everyone else files out, no need to crowd and suffocate amongst the other students, and you had nowhere to be except catch up on your favorite shows and relax all by yourself.

Filing out the auditorium with everyone else, you see a familiar face pass by you, and vaguely hear Abby’s voice in your head urging you to seize the moment. Now’s your chance, go! And so you gather every little bit of strength you possess to do just that.

After a couple deep breaths you jog up to her. “Uh, hey.” She turns around and gives you a warm smile, making your legs instantly turn to jelly. You subtly checked her out and took in her outfit, another bulky jacket and lightly distressed jeans. Fingers studded with layered silver rings, and those big ole headphones seemed to be magnetically attached to her, she always had them on her. Note to self: ask for some music recommendations.

She was even hotter up close…with a beautiful galaxy of freckles scattered across her fair skin, you wanted to place a kiss on every single of them. “I, um, never caught your name.” “It's Ellie.” She sticks out her hand for a handshake and you accepted it, you finally had a name to the face you've been pining over so intensely for so long. Abby was going to lose it once you tell her about this. You steady your voice and hide the glee that was likely evident from this interaction going so smoothly, and introduce yourself to her as well.

After some time of idle chit chat and standing there, neither one of you knowing really what to say, Ellie pipes up, facepalming, tsking, and furrowing her brows. “Oh yeah, I don’t mean to spring this on you outta nowhere, but would you wanna study sometime?” She flushes a dusty pink, “I don't know anyone else taking this course and am having kind of a hard time with it...when I chose it, I expected it to be more about space and the planets, and less about numbers and math, my head hurts.”

Her demeanor was making you feel rather comfortable with her, even though the two of you had just formally met a few minutes prior. “I would love to, yeah!” Maybe you were being a little too enthusiastic, but at this point you were operating on pure instinct and not thinking critically of what was coming out of your mouth. “I actually don't have any plans now, or today at all, so if you want to, we can get a head start before the next class?” Well that just slipped out. Go you, blurting things out.

You had no idea why you'd said that because your place was an absolute mess, clothes strewn everywhere, trash can still full, you'd been too preoccupied with your studies, and well her, to do much about it. To your horror, Ellie exclaims, “Hey, that's perfect! I don't have anything to do right now either, and it would be good to act on it while it's still fresh in my mind, y’know?” Her face morphs into an adorable toothy grin as she taps on her skull comically, you were becoming more obsessed by the second, if that was even possible.

Every little sliver of her personality you got to see under the stoic one you had assumed she had just grasped at your heartstrings. You smiled back at her so hard you almost pulled a muscle in your cheeks, “Awesome! Follow me, then, my dorm isn't far.”

The walk there was mostly fine as the two of you made it to your place, Ellie occasionally making comments about how she hates the class even though she adores outer space and learning about it on her own time, and you were nodding and acting as if you're listening, agreeing with her robotically while she rambled away and you daydreamed about what her lush lips would feel like on yours. You wondered if she was gentle with it, or if she’d kiss you hungrily, devour you like her very last meal….gulp.

Leading her to your place was an automatic task, not much navigation needed, and when the journey was done you had to legitimately stop short for a moment in an attempt to soothe the pounding in your chest.

The crush that has plagued your mind for ages, who you've just met formally today, was about to be in your room. The two of you were about to be alone. That was totally fine, yeah, she can't be a murderer…..right?

“You good?” She asked sweetly, why did she have to be so nice, “Those stairs were killer, I totally get it, phew.” “Oh for sure, gets me every time.” Covering up your panic smoothly, you unlocked the door and went inside with her. When she walked inside, Ellie took a glance around your room and set herself down at the edge of your bed, immediately making herself comfortable, while you still lingered in the doorway, awkwardly swaying and staring at her, unsure of what to do with yourself.

Suddenly you had completely forgotten why she was here in the first place. “No way, you read Savage Starlight too???” She spotted the figurine on your desk and snatched it up in her hands to inspect it thoroughly, with a childlike wonder in her eyes. “Wow, this one was a limited edition and it sold out in like an hour, I'm so jealous you got this!! How much you want for it, I'm serious.” She was so excited, and you couldn't believe it. Savage Starlight has always been one of your favorite comics ever, you've loved it since you were a young teen, and now this seemingly perfect human before you, who you're hopelessly obsessed with says she loves it too? Could she get any more flawless, is all you could wonder.

Her happiness because of this little thing you two bonded over was infectious, and some of your nerves slowly began to go away. Grinning genuinely, you sheepishly said, “I've never met anyone else who likes it, that story has helped me through lots of phases in my life, and Daniela was my gay awakening.” Ellie gaped at you for a beat, making you almost doubt revealing that information.

“No. Fuckin’. Way. Mine too! Her suit was just- damn. And those action scenes in the third volume had my thirteen year old self’s brain just mush for, I don't even know for how long. This is crazy, I can already see we’re gonna get along so well.”

You wanted to talk to her about everything and anything forever, and her glee made you want to squish her, but there was unfortunately work to be done first. “There’s so much we have to discuss, but we gotta get some studying done first if we wanna make it out of this course alive.”

You were sitting at your desk, hunched over the sprawled out textbooks and messy notes, as you drew the graphs and talked to her about the concepts she was struggling with. Your desk was so small and you only had one chair, and you were the one using it, so Ellie was forced to hover over you to see all you were doing.

Focusing solely on the subject before you was proving to be more difficult as studying time went by, because you were a little too aware of the way she had caged you in against the desk to watch, her oversized shirt grazing your upper back. You gripped your pen ever so tightly to minimize any trembling, and kept a steady voice as best you could while explaining it all.

She was so, so close, the tension in the tiny room was palpable, she didn't seem to notice your nervous tremors or the proximity she’d created, and the low murmurs of, “ohhh, mhm, yeah,” as you embarrassingly stammered over your explanations made you flushed and to be frank, needy. You could feel her warmth radiating off of her, could faintly hear her breathing just above you. You didn't dare move a muscle. Was she feeling this too?

At this point you swore the delicious gravelly vibrations from her voice this close to you would be plenty enough to make you cream your pants. The air in the enclosed space was getting hotter and thicker by every passing moment, it took everything you had to keep yourself from losing your mind right now. If you moved back a petty few inches, you’d be pressed flush with her front. What would that be like, you wondered. Oh, no. Your throat felt drier than the desert when you swallowed, the thought of that making you weak.

Since your focus on the work was lapsing, you were beginning to make some little mistakes and blunders, compelling her to take the pen right from your hand and fix them herself. “No, no, this one’s supposed to be like this instead, see? Then you're able to get the right answer which is…” She stretches over you further, you nearly whined, someone save you, and grabs the textbook to review the solution. “Like this, yeah, I was right. Honest mistake though, don’t worry about it.”

You nod your head and make a pathetic murmur of approval, ignoring the fiery tingles spreading all the way up your arm when her hand bumps yours to return the writing utensil, and the blistering coil of want forming in your stomach. This all had to be deliberate, right? She couldn't lack that much spatial awareness, could she? Well, it wasn’t that you minded, she could get as close as she damn wanted to, you'd let her throw you around like a ragdoll even- you were just afraid your heart was going to give out if she kept it up. “Could you show me this work you guys did? Of course the one day I'm late, the prof talks about something new and I miss it.”

What feels like an eternity later, you hear her groan above you and she returns to her earlier spot on your bed. You can finally breathe properly. Glancing at the clock, your own headache begins to set in. Crap it was late, how time flies.

“We’ve been studying for so long, it’s getting late.” “Shit, you’re right, I’ve definitely overstayed my welcome. Sorry about that, and hey, thanks for this. I understand it all a lot better now, see you tomorrow.”

She stands up abruptly and ushers herself out of your door in a flash, to which you clumsily stand up, knock your chair over, and hastily run after her, not wanting her to go just yet. “Wait, Ellie!” “What's up, did I forget something?”

She pats her pockets and looks at you with concern. Round puppy dog eyes, and lips in a miniscule pout, so cute. You were in front of her now, but did not process what you actually wanted to say. Just ran after her like the smitten nincompoop you are. Upon feeling your face go hot, you look at the ground to mutter, “Uh- nothing. See you later.” Realistically, what were you planning on saying, or doing?

After stumbling over your words you two finally part ways and you slump down against your door, missing her presence already. You simultaneously wanted to jump around or open your bedside table drawer to release the energy you'd accumulated, and wanted to fall into the deepest sleep of your life to recuperate from the experience. This was just, a lot. You wanted to scream and screech like there's no tomorrow, but did not want to deal with noise complaints from the others living on your floor. Gosh she was so close, she shares your niche interest, your hands touched, albeit accidentally, lo and behold you were in love with her.

Maybe it was early to call it that, but you were going to plan out your future together. Preferably a quaint, peaceful farmhouse, the one you two lovebirds renovated together exactly how you envisioned, where you could ogle her doing the farmwork. Ugh. Cook all her favorite meals, make sweet, sweet love under the moonlight. Take strolls through the flower gardens you two planted, receive her curated bouquets as gifts, you two are going to have such a tender, domestic life.

You had to mull it over some more, and didn’t dare wish to forget how close she was to you, you were still buzzing from her essence. You were pointlessly pacing around your room now, unable to stop looping the study session's events in your head. The simplicity, the eroticism of the encounter. One-sided or not, you had yet to find out more about her, the impatience was going to take over. The day almost seemed too good to be true, but for now you had to force yourself to relax and think about something other than her. Time to browse Pinterest with striking kitchen ideas for your beautiful future.

What were you going to say to her the next time you see her? You were eager to know how, or if at all, this new friendship was going to progress. Part of you was dying of impatience, but the rest of you wanted to take it all as slow as possible, savoring every little moment and making the most of it.

You sighed, this was going to be a long, long, year.

lovely taggies: @amiorca @mostlyhornyandsad @lasting-lover @radioheadfan699 @sophie-thefrog8 @machetegirl109 @ellieschair @aouiaa @wavesgocrash @tangerinngi @elliesbitchvenus @dinaissoprettyoml @rxreaqia @camicocom1a @elliesexual @ellslvr @boobdrug @writing-on-a-bathroom-stall @bready101 @yourelliewillms

.......really hoping this doesn't flop because it isn't smutty, yall wanted more fics that are plot soooo

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loaksbitch · 1 year

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ok this is based on request, but imagine jake sully fucking you with pure hated cause your existence alone fucking irritates him yet he can’t keep his hand off of you yes? HECK YES

warning(s) – enemies with benefits, angry sex, mean jake, clit stimulation, overstimulation, cervix fucking, dumbfication, owning kink (if that’s a thing), cussing, orgasm denial, choking, slight hair pulling, cum stuffing, reader is a bratty minx too.

jake was sat across the hut, reshaping his arrow tip to hunt for later and very much annoyed on how youre in front of him, chewing on your thumbnail so fucking loud, on eywa you’re was so bitchy.

for the past half hours he was trying so hard to block out the chewing sound yet nothing helped, especially with your very aware self doing that purposely.

“can you stop doing that?” jake huffs, doing his best to control his growing anger and hatred.

“what?” you say with an attitude, a brow arched and giving him a stare.

you and you’re fucking attitude. jake licks his lips, tongue poking through his cheek. “that, stop chewing loud you’re distracting me.” he says, pointing to where his reshaped arrows are.

you click your tongue, nodding your head to the door. “if you’re disturbed, the door is that way.” your words are pushing him on edge, wanting to rip you and do things, you on other hand was also feeling the same and you want him away from your sight.

“this place is not yours.” he spat, tone showing a tint of anger. you’re hitting jackpot. “and it’s not yours.” you bite back.

a deep growl leaves his chest, jake frowning as he starts to speed his knife against the wooden arrow. he decides to ignore you, thinking it’s the best to steam down his anger, fuck he really hates you it’s making his cock twitch.

you’re not done with him, especially after yesterday night when he literally scared the cute na’vi male who was talking to you away. this bitch deserves to go crazy with your existence.

“slow down.” you say, voice high and pushing him to the edge. “i swear to God, y/n if you don’t shut the fu—“ you dare to cut him off, you fucking cut him off and his nostrils flared.

“you might not want to cut those fingers, do you?” you tease, empathizing with the fact he has five fingers and is different from the na’vi’s.

he blinks, eyes twitching and triggered before he snaps his head to yours.

“i’m sick of your bitchy self today.” he tries to humble you but you find ways to slap his face with your fiery mouth. “and i'm sick of your bitchy self every day.” you say and jake loudly hissed, amber eyes strictly glaring at you.

“fuck you.” he grumbles

“fuck you.” you hiss back.

done with his shit, you decide to leave and get on your feet. he smirks, lips opening to get on your nerves. “leaving already?” you don’t reply, only one plan in your mind. you’re gonna destroy this man.

intentionally, you walk over to where reshaped and non shaped separated arrows are and nudge your leg to them. you feel them tumble, falling and mixing together. “oops.” you giggle,

jakes’ smirk drops, fading so quickly, this was the last string of patience he had. he lets a terrific chuckle out and your body shivers, maybe you’ve taken it too far.

“you little bitch.” he was now on his feet, walking to you and grabbing you by your hair. you two always ended up in a fight, him not caring if you're a female or you not caring if he was male. you just go for it, punching him when he dared to touch your hair.

“the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you turn to him, face red with anger as well. you’ve always hated when someone had you by your hair. you poke on his chest, pushing him while you knew this drives him insane with maddens cause he hates getting pushed too.

“don’t. push. me.”

both of your eyes were on fire and burning holes to each other’s skull. you swallow nervously yet hold your ground and not let him see how he was intimidating you.

“don’t be an asshat and you won’t be pushed.” you said quietly.

“fuck you.” he says, voice to deep.

“fuck you.” you’re on your tiptoes now, chin raised high to show you’re not scared or bottoming out.

without any warnings his lips were on yours, hot and wet as he takes your lips and devour you. anger was still in him but the lust is winning. both of you are fighting until he was biting on your lips and making you involuntarily moan.

it was his chance, tongue being shoved inside your mouth and being tied. he moans to the kiss. jake suddenly pulls you closer and you whine, hands skimming to his chest and push him away.

he licks his lips, eyes lingering on your lips before lifting to see your eyes. you wipe your lips with your arm, spitting on the floor with disgust. oh trust me, you were so fucking turned on but had to pretend.

“don’t wipe my kiss off your lips.” he demands and you scoff, wiping more and watch his eyes squint, a chuckle leaving him.

“fine then, i’ll mark you all over your body and see if you can wipe it.” he spits and you’re being scooped to his shoulder.

you don’t fight cause you know you want this, but at the same time you’re nervous.

before you know it, you’re being thrown to the hammock, jake crawling on top of you and you almost moan at the sight. “what the fuck are you doing?” you ask, not letting him have a chance to know you’re wanting him right now.

“i think your sexy ass knows exactly what i’m doing.” your inside twists, pussy pulsing at his words. he doesn’t miss how your legs close themselves and he nods, smirking. “that turns you, doesn't it?” you look away when he holds onto your knees and forces them open.

“fuck you.” you say again and this time jake grins. “please do.” he begs this time.

he was between your legs, your loincloth getting ripped away and him untying his gently. he’s so passive aggressive. “i’m gonna fuck you till you’re screaming my name only.” he leans to nudge on your cheek with his nose.

“fuck off, i’m not doing–“ jake was again kissing you, rough and angry that almost breaks your skin. your legs are roughly pushed wider. “i fucking hate you.” he reminds you and anger bubbles in you, “i fucking hate you too–hngh..!” you struggle to answer when pleasure strikes you as jake cups your heat.

“you’re so fucking wet.” your eyes almost roll up to your head, his husky voice being too much. jake was admiring the way he bruised your blue skin when he was marking your neck.

jake trails hot wet kisses down your cleavage and to your breast. you drew a deep breath between your teeth when he took your nipple. jake locked his eyes with yours when he tugged on your nipple, letting it roll between his teeth. the sharpness of his teeth scraping on your nipple and making you shudder.

he leaned back, getting on his knees and glaring at you as he told you how he is proud with the effect he had on you with his eyes. your temper was flaring.

you pull your legs to your chest and try to close them but jake was fast. “uh-uh.” he grips onto your ankle and yanks your legs back open. you grit your teeth, fighting him and his masculine ass to get off of you.

“baby.” he sternly calls and you freeze, “the fuck did you just call me?” you slap his hand away from you when he tries to reach and brush your messy hair from your forehead. “i ain’t your baby.” you growl.

“fine, you want it the hard way?” he spits. “i’ll fuck you then.”

you’re getting pushed back and pinned to the hammock. “fucking stay like that or else…” he threats and you scoff. “no, you don’t tell me what to you, i’m not yours to obey around.”

“you’re not mine?” he arched his brow and you're silent, looking away and staring at the roof until hands are firm, grip on your jaw turns you and makes you meet his gaze. “you’re not mine?” of course at the end of the day you’re his.

“yes, you don’t own me.” every time his nostrils flared, you were very happy because he was getting upset. “we will see about that.” and then he was leaning down to capture your other breast that didn’t get attention.

you were fast to throw your head back, moaning when you felt him lightly bite on your bud and make you squirm under him. you didn’t realize you were pushing his head away from your chest until jake was grabbing your wrist and throwing it away.

right then you arch your back for him to suck on your nipple more he stops and you whine. “you’re not mine huh? you sure you don’t want to take that back?” you huff, eyes telling him you’re not changing your mind.

“yeah,” you spit, watching him grin, “is that so?” he says.

“yes, because you’re— argh!” you groan when his other hand roughly parts your fold and sinks in until his knuckle is a barrier. jake was so rough when he fingers you, your cunt squeezing him deliciously.

your eyes widen when you catch his cock jump and point straight to the roof, precum leaking from the angry tip of his dick. he can imagine how warm and tight you are.

“relax.” he curls his finger inside you, thumb flicking your clit. “relax for me.” he hates you yet look at him going all ‘relax for me’ on you.

“you’re so pathetic, so fucking dumb on my fingers.” he pulls his two fingers out before shoving them in you.

“who am i?” he asks and your answer causes him to curl his fingers inside you. “you’re an asshole!” you mweled. “asshole? i’m an asshole?” jake pinches on your thigh when you try to close them on his hand.

“c’mon pretty, i know you’re better than that. who am i?”

you’re silent, only soft breath leaving you. jake can feel how you pulse on his fingers, telling him you’re about to come. “what the–“ your eyes shoot open when you feel jake pull his hands away from you.

“open your legs wider, be fast.” for once you do as you’re told and jake hums, pleased.

“you’re not gonna get that far until you say you’re mine.” he was very serious and you gulped. you’re spread open and jake closes his eyes when the scent of your leaking slick hits his nose.

you smell so tempting and delicious.

your gaze follows him when he settles between your legs. “gonna fuck some sense into you now.” you throbbed when you said that, feeling your wetness leaking out of you fast and clenching on nothing but air.

jake held both of your legs, pushing them up to your chest and folding you half. it was his turn to squat, watching your exposed and pink folds shining as his angry tip circles on the slit.

“please,” you catch yourself slipping, pride somehow demolished. jake was surprised, “what? can’t hear you.” he gives you an attitude.

you don’t fight back, just wanting to be filled with his dick. “please i need you inside me.” he wasn’t up for teasing now. he needed you as much as you needed him. “fuuuck.” he moans, watching your face attentively when your jaw hungs open.

pain and pleasure hit you, he was not giving you any time to get accustomed to his length. jake thrusts into you, angry and rough.

“you’re mine?” he asks, taking advantage of your hazy mind but you’re no near to being hazy. “fuck off.” you hiss when he pushes your leg to your chest more, almost blocking your lungs from your stretching.

“hm, i’m asking you in a minute and i’ll need you to get it right yeah?” you only moan. jake pressed his body to your folded leg, grabbing your hips and titling your pelvis. you scream when he hits the right spot.

hands sought to his broad shoulders and pushed him when he ruined your tight cunt, it was painful when he started to slip in more. jake can’t help but get shocked when he fucks you open. his cock was literally in your cervix.

“it hurts.” you whine but jake only shushes you. hands wiping on the tears that appear on your eyes. “shh, you’re okay. i’m just so deep, f-fuck don’t do that.” he grips on your hips when you tighten on him. your warm breath hits his lips on how close he is and pressing himself on you.

hands that were wiping your tears slides to hold onto your wrists that keep pushing him away and moving them away from him. “who am i, baby?” you’re now completely gone, his dick controlling your brain and body, even your breath when he ruts to you.

tears are leaking from your eyes as he keeps thrusting into you, abusing your walls and bruising them. you moan and cry louder, nothing making sense with the pleasure and pain you’re feeling.

your breath shortens when jake wraps his large hand on your throat, oh mother eyw—

“who am i?” his tone changes on the last word and you scream? giving in easily. “jake! jake sully!” you cry out, orgasm bubbling in you, you want it out of you, the growing pressure. you want jake to rip it out of you.

“okay, that’s it.” he pats your temple, “ seems like ’m knocking some sense in you.”

“now,” he kisses your forehead, hate still bubbling in him. “you’re mine, yeah?” you wanted to shake your head. wanted to punch him. wanted to…

“c’mon, say it and i’ll give you what you need.”

“i’m yours, i’m yours, i’m yours.” the moment you said it, jake felt something in him burn with ego. you’re his, you gave yourself to him. no going back now.

“good fucking girl.” he huffs, pulling out of you and causing you to cry, like seriously cry loud and he spreads your leg apart, hands wrapping on your waist before he helps you get on him.

your ass sets against his strong thighs and you moan when he easily slipped inside you.

“JAKE!” you yell when he pushes you down, bottoming out before grazing on your earlobe. “you’re mine, you get it? a part of you is mine and i own you.” you hate how his words made your insides clench.

tears are shed, heart in pain with no reason. “i hate you.” you tell him and he smiles, pulling you close to him and hugging you as he fucks himself in you. “i hate you too.” jake chuckles when you hide yourself on his chest.

“i’m gonna cum…” you whine, feeling the man holding you close. “i got you, i’m here.” at this point the hate is confusing because jake doesn’t know what he is feeling any more.

you let go, trusting the man you hate the most and coming. he was soon taking your step, manly whining and hiding himself to the crook of your neck. “shit.” he moans, loading himself in you.

he suddenly feels you pushing him away and hips buckling causing him to slip out of you. he was about to ask what was wrong until glaring at him with pure rage.

“this never happened.” you bark and watch him confused and try to understand. “what?” he innocently asks and you point at him then, down to his semi-hard cock. “this, me and you. we never did it.”

right then it hits him, jake gets that you don’t want this to get out of you two, it was like a dirty secret and jake felt annoyed. “you don’t want no one to know?” you’re quick to nod. “yes.” as much as he wants to show you off.

if you want this then he got you, he was gonna bite his tongue and sit back and you watch him hesitate before nodding.

“good.” you state and move from him to fetch on your loincloth. he only stares at you, the tension you both had a while ago long gone and his amber eyes following you as the mean man he was before disappeared. you don’t even spare him a look as you dress and leave the hut.

too confused and trying to process what just happened.

like + reblog is very appreciated but not pressured! i love each and everyone of you sm!

3K notes · View notes

cheolhub · 9 months

Text

EVENING GLOW — KIM MINGYU ࿐

summary. you’re having a horrible, no good, very bad day and mingyu wants to do everything he can to make it better.

wc. 4.5k+

warnings. hurt/comfort, overthinking, reader goes through it and cries a lot, allusions to having anxiety, smut! soft bf!mingyu, so much praise (it’s insane), pet names (angel, baby, sweet/pretty girl), reader is v needy and sensitive, a lot of reassurance, hand holding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, slight dumbification, creampie, V SOFT, unprotected sex — MINORS DNI 18+

note. because i love keir ( @jeonghantis ) and bc they deserve the world and all of the stars. also it’s really for anyone who’s had way too many bad days in a row <3 u are very loved (by me and ur fave). also, i lost sight of the plot half way thru this (very common reoccurrence in all of my mingyu fics) so i apologize for that hehsh. i appreciate ur feedback! <3 and yes, this is loosely based off evening glow by wave to earth <33333333 + @toruro i also hope u like this hehehe

bad days aren’t uncommon for you, but you’ve had significantly less since kim mingyu waltzed into your life like the klutz he is. he manages to make every day brighter by simply existing. every smile, every laugh, every touch makes bad days seem like a distant memory.

that’s not to say you don’t still have them because you do.

you still have days– like today– where it seems like nothing is right. days where you overthink every single thing in your life, ‘am i doing this right?’ ‘does he still love me?’ ‘does any of this even fucking matter?’ days where you want the earth to crack all the way open and swallow you whole.

those days are beyond harsh. they have you trudging back home with wet lash lines, cloudy vision, and a loud voice in your head that’s begging– pleading– don’t cry, don’t cry, please don’t cry.

and today… today felt like you went to hell and back. the second your eyes opened, you knew it was going to be one of those days and it truly was a series of rather unfortunate events. you woke up late and alone, you were reprimanded by your boss, you spilled your much-needed coffee during your break, your coworkers were much more hostile than usual, you got yelled at by clients over the phone, your personal phone died halfway through the day because, of course, you forgot to charge it last night, and then, the intrusive thoughts came. the ones that had you overthinking like crazy.

and it’s not like you could talk to anyone about it (read: talk to mingyu about it). your phone was dead and you hated all of your coworkers, so you were stuck. stuck in limbo, it seemed, mind plagued with horrid thoughts. everything good in your life didn’t feel so good anymore.

which is why you were practically in tears when you got back home, letting them roll down your face shamelessly as your hand fumbled the keys. you eventually got it into the lock– after steadying your shaky hand– turning the metal and letting yourself in. the second you shut the door, you press your back against it, head in your hands as you let out the soft sobs you've been holding in all day.

on most of your bad days, you can keep your tears at bay till you make it into the shower. but, on days like today, you just can’t and your sobs echo through the empty apartment, reminding you that you’ll be alone till your boyfriend arrives. it’s not the prettiest sight, though, so you’re partially glad that mingyu misses it since he gets home after you.

he usually does, at least.

what you don’t realize is mingyu is home and he’s wandering around the apartment with his brows furrowed, confused as to where the sound of crying is coming from.

and when he sees you at the main entrance with your hands covering your face, he feels the air leave his lungs and his heart almost literally cracks in half.

he treads carefully, slowly making his way to you. “...baby?”

you’re startled, choking on one of your sobs at the sound of his voice. out of mere embarrassment, you quickly wipe your tears with your sleeve though it does nothing to hide the fact that you actually have been crying.

“gyu…” you say with a wavering voice, doing your absolute best to keep up your shitty facade. you quickly feel your resolve crumbling as you both stand in awkward silence, so you put your head down to avoid eye contact. “i-i thought you were working?”

he ignores your question and counters with his own, “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

you bite your trembling lip and shake your head, eyes still trained on the floor.

he walks a few steps closer, now towering over your trembling body, “c’mon, angel. tell me what happened.”

you take a shuddered breath, slowly raising your head to look up at him. he frowns at your bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks and at the fact that all you can say is “hi…” in a nearly-inaudible, yet dulcet voice.

“hi, baby,” he whispers back, hands coming to cup your cheeks, thumbs wiping at your stray tears. “tell me what happened.” he repeats, a bit more demanding this time.

you deflate, “i just had a bad day… it was nothing.”

he shakes his head at how you invalidate yourself, “it’s not nothing if it’s making you cry, Y/N…” he gently reminds. “please tell me? i wanna help… if you’ll let me.”

you sigh, leaning into his touch. your eyes flutter close and the words escape you before your brain can process them. you tell him everything trying your hardest to not let your emotions get the best of you. it’s not like mingyu would care if you were crying and blubbering out your words, but you knew he hated seeing you so upset, so you refrain from shedding more tears.

you try to refrain, at least. you can’t stop the way they helplessly fall when you open your eyes again. “nothing was going right, gyu… my day was so bad that it had me overthinking every little thing.”

“i’m sorry, baby.” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours. “i’m so sorry i wasn’t there for you.”

you shake your head profusely, swallowing the lump you feel in your throat, “n-no! no, please, it’s not your fault, gyu, i swear. my phone died, so it’s not like you could’ve known anyway.”

he pulls away from you, hands coming down to hold yours. “what did you think about?”

you squeeze his hands, “a lot of things…”

“like?” he frowns, pressing further.

you look away, mumbling out a lie, “i dunno. it was a lot… i can’t really remember right now. ”

truth be told, you didn’t want to admit the anxiety-induced thoughts you had earlier knowing he’d worry. if he heard half the ones you had about your relationship, you know he’d probably break down himself. you’re well aware mingyu loves you more than anything on earth because he never fails to remind you.

but sometimes, the tiny voice in the back of your head– the one that says he’s too good to be true– gets a bit too loud and you tend to forget all his little reminders– all the ‘i love you’s’ he whispers into your ear right before bed, all the kisses he peppers onto your face, all the hugs where he squeezes the life out of you.

“you don’t have to tell me what you thought about, but i do want to tell you something,” he starts, a small smile making its way onto his pretty lips. he leans into you, with a voice so small as he says, “i love you. and i know i suffocate you with it sometimes, but it’s true. i love you so much. please don’t ever doubt that.”

you nod, sniffling, “i know.”

his smile grows, “and?...”

your lips curve up a bit and you whisper, “and i love you, too.”

“you better not forget it,” he playfully jokes, forehead resting on yours again. “you know i love you the most, though.”

you giggle softly, shaking your head. “you always turn it into a competition. you know it isn’t right?”

“i know it isn’t, but i do.” he confirms, voice tender and a bit hushed. “i want you to remember that the next time you think too hard. i love my pretty girl the most… more than anything. i’d do anything to keep you happy. wanna see that pretty smile everyday.”

the genuinity– the love– that drips from his words has you weak. the words replay in your head over and over almost as if it’s on a constant loop.

i love my pretty girl.

my pretty girl.

your breath hitches at the unanticipated pet name, remembering the sweet, innocent way it rolled off his tongue. you know you probably shouldn’t feel this way, but it doesn’t stop the way you squeeze your thighs together, pussy pulsing at the mere term of endearment. you’re almost sure mingyu can feel the heat radiating off your skin, yet he does nothing. he stands still, warm, brown eyes staring at your tear-stained face.

so you take matters into your own hands.

you stand tall and lean into him. your nose brushes against his and the proximity between the two of you closes quickly. i want to be kissed, your face reads– begs– and he finally sees that, obliging reluctantly.

his eyes flutter and his lips graze against yours before you take the lead and close the gap for him. as his mouth collides with yours, you feel warmth erupt in your body and you relish it.

the kiss is soft. gentle. it nearly has you melting under him.

but the longer his lips mold against yours, the longer his tongue roams the inside of your mouth, the needier you get. it’s like all your worries wash away. all the bad thoughts evaporate into thin air. all you can think about is the everlasting love you have for the man before you and the incessant love he has for you, too.

you untangle your hands from his in favor of pawing at his chest, nails digging into the cotton fabric of his shit and slightly biting into his skin.

you’re slowly, yet surely losing your mind. the kiss deepens and all the coherent thoughts you had minutes prior are being pushed to the back as mingyu is on the forefront of your mind. you’re overcome with need for him. need for him to make you forget everything. need for him to fuck you till all you can think about him and the way his cock makes you feel.

and mingyu knows this, of course. he knows with the way you claw at him and how you whimper desperately as if you’ve been deprived from his touch for far too long.

it’s why he doesn’t make you beg for it. instead he’s pulling away, watching you chase his lips while he breathlessly asks, “you sure you wanna do this, baby?” he looks so enamored with you. there’s no doubt you look like a complete mess right now, but it’s like he sees past it. past the tears, past the red eyes, past all the sadness.

“please,” you whisper, sniffling again.

he murmurs okay against your lips before grabbing your hand and guiding you to your shared room.

he diligently strips you of your clothing, first your pants then your shirt. his fingers skillfully popping the buttons on your blouse and slipping it off your body, letting it fall into a pool on the ground.

“so beautiful,” he whispers, massive hands immediately moving to grope your tits through your bra. “you’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N.”

his words linger in the air and you feel them. you feel beautiful when he stares at you half naked in your cotton panties and mismatched bra. you feel beautiful with your puffy eyes and snotty nose. mingyu makes you feel so beautiful even in your most unfavorable moments.

you whimper at his heavy hands, your own tugging at the ends of his shirt, wordlessly begging for the fabric to join the other clothes on the ground. he obliges immediately, practically ripping it off of himself before his hands are back on you.

he pulls your bra down, letting your tits spill out, kneading at the flesh with hearts in his eyes. a breathy version of his name comes out of your mouth–

and the sound makes his cock ache. his body yearns and begs to be inside of you. so much so that it has him swiftly unclasping your bra before gently pushing you onto the bed. he thinks it’s gentle, at least. mingyu tends to forget his strength so his gentle can be your rough.

it doesn’t matter, it never has. every single act mingyu performs for you is one that comes from a place of love. he’s a benevolent man, not a single malicious bone lives in his hand-crafted body.

“gyu,” you whisper, hand slipping in between your thighs to work on your clothed clit as he towers over you. at your own contact, you feel a shock run through your body and your back just slightly arches off the bed. “need you.”

he curses under his breath, suddenly unable to breathe in his loose house shorts. he hooks his fingers into the waistband, pulling them down and presenting his leaky, hard cock to you.

and the sight has your entire body going hot. you throw your head back against the plush pillows and moan out his name, louder this time, fingers moving faster against your clit– though it would feel so much better if he finally put his hands on you. or better yet, his cock inside of you.

“gyu,” you drag out his name in a cry and you finally feel the bed dip under his weight.

“i know, baby,” he whispers, hand moving yours away from your soaked panties in favor of replacing it. when his bigger fingers begin to rub circles into the covered bud, you gasp and let yours grasp at the sheets under you. “i know you need me. i’ve got you.” he reassures you, voice shaky as he notices just how wet you are. “gonna make you feel so good, don’t worry.”

but you don’t realize how sensitive you are because the second his hand slips inside your panties, his warm hand finding your heated cunt, fresh tears spring to your eyes. “oh, fuck,” you shudder, shaking underneath him.

“you’re so wet,” he mutters the obvious, fingers dipping in between your folds to collect your slick before pulling his hand out.

“don’t tease me,” you plead weakly.

he frowns, shaking his head, “i’m not– i won’t,” he tells you softly, rolling your panties off your body and down your legs. he tosses the cotton material over to join the other articles of clothing on the ground before his hands spread your legs open, displaying you for himself. “i told you that i got you, pretty girl, i promise.”

you give him a broken nod, squirming in discomfort.

his hand is back on your pussy in no time, tapping at your drooling hole with two of his fingers. “this still okay?”

you nod again, “yes, gyu.”

he leans down, lips meeting yours as he presses into you with his index and middle fingers. he’s quick to swallow your moan as he stretches you open, feeling the way your gummy walls invite and welcome him in.

your kiss is more fervent this time around. you can feel his need, the way he shoves his tongue into your mouth, messy and uncoordinated. it has you trapping his fingers between your wet walls, grinding with all your might against his hand.

you have no clue how he manages to multi-task, both finger-fucking and kissing you into oblivion, but he does both without fail. you whine desperately against his lips, one of your hands coming to wrap around his wrist in hopes to support yourself.

the wet squelching of your cunt fills the room and it has him pulling away from you for a second to groan out, “you hear that, angel? pretty pussy takin’ my fingers so fuckin’ well.”

you clench around him again, enveloping him as if your life depended on it– you feel so fucking good–

and yet you crave more. it feels good, yes, mingyu always has you seeing stars, but you need more. more of his fingers, more of him. and mingyu is probably well aware of the fact with the way your pussy swallows his fingers, but you know he’s reluctant about giving you too much because of… prior events.

you want that– you want too much. you want to forget about your shitty day. the only thing you want to think about, the only thing you want to be all-consumed by in this very moment, is mingyu.

“m-more–” you whine against his lips as he wildly pushes in and out of your messy cunt.

fingers unfaltering in speed, he pulls away from you breathlessly, lips wet and swollen. “more, baby?”

“mhm,” you give him pleading eyes as you whisper, “wanna cum.”

“fuck,” he mumbles, nodding his head mindlessly as if your words put him into a daze. his fingers pull out and his ring finger joins the two that are already covered in your slick. they push into you slowly, effectively opening you up. “how’s this, beautiful? this enough?”

you pant, clamping around the digits, squeezing them like a vice. “m-min-” you muffle your moan with your hand, more tears stinging in your eyes.

“no?” he asks, an endearing grin on his face. he maneuvers till he’s in between your legs, he moves further down the bed and your heart thumps erratically in your chest.

it’s when his lips wrap around your clit while he concurrently thrusts his fingers into your sopping heat that you let out an ear-splitting moan. you lace your fingers into his silky hair and tug at his roots without a care.

he winces and moans against you at the feeling, the pain making his cock throb against the bed.

your mind escapes you, melting at the pleasure. his tongue flicks at the sensitive, swollen bud while his fingers curl against your sweet spot, pushing you closer and closer to the edge and you’re on the brink of pure ecstasy.

“s-so close, fuck, i’m close, gyu.” you babble breathlessly.

he moans again, tirelessly continuing his brutal attack on your pussy, but the sound waves of said moans shock your entirety and teeter right over the edge. your vision goes black for a solid minute, only a few specks of white in sight, your blinding orgasm taking your entire body over.

you jerk under him, back arching as you release all over his fingers, the tightrope in your tummy completely unraveling and allowing you to soak his fingers in your syrupy arousal. his mouth moves down as he pulls out and slurps you up obnoxiously, eating you out as you cum.

and you can’t stop shaking, not even after he’s pulled his mouth and fingers away from you. your body twitches and writhes like he’s been working you for hours and mingyu, astounded, has never seen you like this– well, he definitely has– not after a single orgasm, at least.

he shudders, body burning with need. the taste of you alone has his brain a bit fuzzy. “are… you okay? was it too much?” he manages to ask, voice strained.

mingyu thinks his question falls on deaf ears when all he hears is your heaving and tiny whimpers. he moves to clean you up, partially worried he overstimulated you, but then you make grabby hands at the large, flushed man.

he leans into your touch, allowing you to grab on to him, “what’s wrong?”

when he looks into your eyes, glassy and glazed over, he notices the hint of need. the pinch of pure desperation. he sees the way you wordlessly ask for more of him, how you wordlessly ask for him to just fuck you already– he can’t deny you. not with the year-long day you’ve had or with the way his cock is basically begging to stuff you full.

he pecks your lips and sits up again. a soft chuckle escapes him as you chase him for another kiss, but it quickly turns into a sharp breath when he looks down at your puffy, pulsing pussy. you’re crying for him, that much is obvious, but your pussy is just weeping.

an endless trail of arousal continues to drool out of you and it’s so enticing… yet it feels so tantalizing…

he feels a bit guilty for being this hard, for wanting to fuck you so bad. it’s in his good nature. you’ve told him countless times that it’s okay, that you need him, but he just wants to make sure.

“are you sure?” he whispers, so soft that you could almost miss it. “we can just go to bed if you’re not up for this, Y/N.”

you can tell that mingyu is fighting inner turmoil. you know he always feels guilty for fucking you stupid. today, though, you’re sure he feels guilty for the other things.

you don’t want him to. he shouldn’t feel guilty for something beyond his control, so you muster up all your strength and, in a wavered voice, tell him, “i want you… always want you.”

you hear his breath of relief and see the wobbly smile on his face and you mirror it. he’s quickly ridding his mind of the guilt and shame at your reassurance and lining himself up with your hole. he slides the tip of his cock between your lips and revels in the way you jolt gently.

“deep breath f’me,” he mutters, knowing you’ll need it. when he hears your shaky inhale, he takes one of his own right as he pushes into you. “fuck,” he says breathlessly. you’re still so fucking tight around him.

a broken whine bubbles up in the back of your throat and mingyu watches the way your eyes screw shut and your jaw goes slack. beautiful, he thinks to himself. even when you’re fucked out of your mind.

he finds the strength to push past the resistance, slowly shoving himself inside of you till his pelvis meets yours.

when he bottoms out, your face contorts and you’re spluttering over your words, “s-so big,”

he nods his head like he knows. “i know, baby,” he murmurs, sliding one of his hands into yours. “but you’re so good for me, always take me so well.” he whispers this time as he’s leaning down, moving your intertwined hands next to your head on the pillow. his free hand cups your heated cheek and he studies you for a few minutes, cock fully sheathed inside of you.

he watches your face change as you become accustomed to the size of him, how your contorted, pained face relaxes as the minutes pass. when your eyes flutter open and you whimper his name, “gyu…” he pulls out a tiny bit before pushing back in– something of an experimental thrust– and discerns your positive reaction.

he repeats his actions, inching out a bit more and sliding back in with ease. his eyes observe you intently, noticing every reaction you make as he drives his cock in and out of you, each one going deeper than the last.

his hand squeezes yours and his lips graze against yours, “feel good?” he asks, breath fanning over your face.

“uh-huh, so good,” you respond in a pant. “th-thank you.”

he falters a bit, but continues to deliver his deep and calculated thrusts. “why are you thanking me, angel?”

“for taking care of me.”

mingyu’s heart swells and nearly bursts right then and there. his smile practically reaches his ears because mingyu, admittedly, loves being the cause of your pleasure. he’s a giver. he always has been.

it makes his hips move faster, his hips flushing to yours with every stroke. the bed squeaks under you, loud and annoyingly high-pitched. neither of you are bothered by the sound as you’re wrapped up within each other– you’re moaning and whining for more and more against his lips and he’s promising to deliver through deep groans and grunts against yours.

and he does deliver. the tip of his cock kisses your cervix and it knocks the wind out of your lungs. you squeeze the hand in yours and your other comes to claw at his body. you dig your nails into the flesh of his arm, biting into him in favor of leaving crescent shapes on his smooth skin.

he hisses, but the subtle sting just spurs him on. that and the way your pussy contracts around him.

“oh fuck,” you whisper, a high-pitched whine following the words. you’re so sensitive from your previous orgasm that it’s making all too much. your body is buzzing and the familiar knot is forming quicker than usual. “mingyu– mingyu, i-i’m so close.”

he nods, breathing out, “it’s okay, baby– cum for me. you deserve it.” you deserve everything you want, he fails to add.

you don’t hold back, completely unraveling under him. you’re easily reduced to a mess, gushing all over his cock while you mewl a mantra of his name. your brain leaves you for a solid minute as you mindlessly babble out thank you’s and i love you’s.

he pulls away from your lips as he watches you come undone. he’s truly so enraptured by you. with your tear-stained cheeks and the drool that trails past your bruised lips. when you tell him you love him– almost incoherently– his dick twitches in your spasming cunt.

“i love you.” he groans, swiftly rocking into you. you’re sobbing in overstimulation, but he eases you with more praise. “you’re so good, fuck, so perfect. i love you so bad.”

his hand leaves your cheek, instead grabbing your free hand and intertwining your fingers. he pins your hands next to your head, just like the other, and continues fucking you.

“my pretty girl,” he murmurs, holding your contrastingly smaller hands tightly. “i’m gonna cum inside… you want that right?”

the question triggers your mind back to life. “please,” you moan weakly. “n-need it.”

he twitches again, a throaty groan coming out of him before he gasps. his entire body stiffens before he presses himself all the way inside of you. his groans and grunts distort to needy moans as ropes of his seed paint the velvet walls of your convulsing heat.

he attempts to control his breathing. after a minute straight of panting and whining, his heaving chest slows and falls into a steady rhythm.

“are you okay?” he pants, pulling out of you, body still hovering over yours. “was it too much…”

your lips turn up into a tiny, sweet smile and nod your head, “‘m okay, baby.”

“good,” he whispers, leaning in and kissing your lips.

he releases you from his grasp and falls next to you, trying to recover more before cleaning you up. he sighs, soothing a hand over your skin and you scoot into him.

“i wanna help you,” mingyu starts with the softest voice you’ve ever heard after a few minutes of comfortable silence, “you can always tell me when you’re having one of these days, baby… you know that right?”

“i know,” you nod, mindlessly tracing shapes onto his bare chest.

“i’m always gonna be here for you… as long as you’ll have me.”

“i know.” you repeat, words whispered this time. “you always make the days better– make them shine– you literally have a heart of gold, mingyu.”

he chuckles, “i don’t,”

“no, you do. just trust me. if we cut you open right now for open heart surgery, there’d be 24 karat gold in the shape of a human heart inside of you.” you tell him.

mingyu smiles widely. happily.

“just remember that this heart is all yours, angel.”

taglist 🏷️: svt : 🔖 @roe-sinning @hyuk4ngel @bowmonde @5xiang @ttyunz @lunaofthelake @girls4cheol @miriamxsworld @enhacolor @jihoontea

#mingyu smut #svt smut #seventeen smut

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cinnamonest · 3 months

Text

Uhtceare

Yandere Ayato x Reader - "Failed escape attempt" series

(I still cannot publish posts that have people tagged. I don't know why, it just gives me an error popup saying it couldn't be processed. Apologies to those in my taglist.)

Warning: DARK CONTENT, noncon/dubcon, implications of forced/coerced marriage, masturbation voyeurism that’s also kinda forced, manipulative use of mental health and problematic way of addressing it, gaslighting and psychological manipulation, implied future forced drugging, there’s just a lot of my man being awful here

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“Ah, there you are.”

Of course. He would be right there at the entrance waiting, wouldn’t he.

You were hoping to get a few more seconds to put off the inevitable, but the reality of your situation was not so kind as to grant you that. It was all far too fast — the full events of the night before, the journey of being dragged back here — flanked on all sides by doushin all the while — all went by in a blur, leading up to this very dreaded moment.

You kept your gaze turned to the ground, unable to bring yourself to make eye contact. Your fingers curled, digging into the fabric around your thighs.

Nonetheless, without even hesitating nor willing it, you found your feet moving on their own. Perhaps it was instinct, to get away from the unfamiliar men that made you so uncomfortable and uneasy, and into the arms that, despite everything, were at least familiar, and thereby a comfort at the end of your long trial of distress and misery. Maybe you knew it was expected, and feared some consequence for not acting as you knew you should. Or maybe some of both.

Regardless, your feet shuffled forward, any thoughts muted in favor of instinct as you bounded over towards your husband — as much as you hated to acknowledge it, your one source of comfort. As you grew close, he reached an arm out, hand firmly planting itself on your back and pulling you in. Perhaps out of that same sense of fear at the thought of disobeying expectations, perhaps out of pure exhaustion, you allowed it without struggle coming to stand directly by his side, grasping at his clothes, burying your head against him and squeezing your eyes shut as if it would obscure the others’ view of you.

“I can’t thank you enough. You have no idea how worried I was about her,” he spoke to the arrangement of men now standing a ways away, moving his hand on to rest atop your head. “I apologize for the inconvenience. The poor thing gets a bit irrational from time to time. You know how it is.”

The other men only gave a brief, curt sound of acknowledgement. One, the own standing closest to the two of you based on how close the voice sounded, seemed to deem it appropriate to give at least some response. “Of course, sir.”

Not that that actually made any sense, that such a bizarre thing to say could ever warrant an ‘of course’ as a reply. But they weren’t there to be sensible, to assess the situation and act according to any supposed principles. To help. They were there only to follow through with an assigned task, one that they had not even tried to conceal in their expressions and tones towards you was an unwanted inconvenience, and to turn a blind eye to any conclusions they might draw.

Maybe that too was intentional — the estate lord could have easily sent his private forces to be the ones to escort you back to the estate, yet he chose to allow the public law enforcement to return you. Perhaps he knew you’d grown to resent the family’s private forces, and thereby had no issue inconveniencing them, whereas he knew you’d feel more embarrassment and guilt having strangers be forced to bring you all the way back… yes, the more you thought about it, that certainly seemed like that was his intent.

“I hope she didn’t give you too much trouble?”

“Not at all, sir.”

“Ah, I see, that’s good to hear.”

Your hands balled into fists.

The whole show made of it all was utterly humiliating — that too no doubt the intention — but you had no choice but to stand there. Doing something rash like running off to hide yourself from the embarrassment would only meet a worse consequence later.

The burning, bitter anger only made said embarrassment that much worse. It was consuming, maddening. Everything — this place, these people, their words and their attitudes, their dismissal of you as if you were a child or an animal — it made you so damn mad, and yet, you could do nothing but endure.

Your eyes burned. You blinked a few times in rapid succession. You couldn’t forgive yourself if you actually cried in front of these strangers. The back-and-forth between the two parties continued, but you did your best to tune out the words, knowing that listening would only hurt you further.

It wasn’t until there was movement that you returned your attention to them, pulling your head away from him to look — now they were turning, walking away.

Leaving you alone with him.

You then dared not avert your eyes from the ground, watching the men from your peripheral vision as they made their way down the path, growing smaller and smaller and they moved further away, until their footsteps were no longer audible.

All that remained was a heavy, palpable tension.

Avoidance was the easiest path — a foolish choice, of course, which you knew full well. It wasn't as if you could avoid the present reality forever, but nonetheless, you found yourself clinging to each precious second that ticked by, body growing stiffer as you braced yourself for the inevitable. Perhaps you could trick yourself into believing that if you just kept your gaze turned to the ground, nothing would happen.

But sure enough, you clenched your jaw as his hand moved upwards, and came to rest on your shoulder.

“Come on now. You're certainly tired. Let’s get you to rest for a while.”

His voice only made your stomach twist further. It was calm and gentle, not explosive or infuriated. It would have felt more assuring that way, if your fear could just be easily confirmed, rather than a calculated calm that felt far more dreadful and foreboding than any rage.

His hand moved from your shoulder, coming down to grasp your wrist. It wasn’t a sudden, harsh motion, nor was the grip itself strong enough as to be painful — but it was noticeably firm.

And then, he pulled. A soft tug, pulling you in the direction of the doors.

Your resistance was not a conscious choice, not something you thought about nor had any time to do so; it was only a reflex. Instinctively, your body stiffened, your feet dug into the ground, and thus his pull was met not with the meek obedience that was expected of you, with footsteps that followed where you were guided, but instead a firm resistance.

Your own realization of that resistance, what you’d just done, sent a sharp rush of fear through your veins.

And thus, for the first time since arriving, your gaze tilted upward, and your wide, frightened eyes met his.

His expression shifted. The amiable, pleasant smile half-faded, still present, but only barely.

“…Don't be difficult. Come on.”

Likewise, his voice dropped far lower, a dark and foreboding tone far removed from the one he’d spoken with just moments ago to the other men.

Your mouth opened, instinctively wanting to reply, but you couldn't summon a coherent thought. You were afraid, you were angry, you were so, so embittered and ashamed and wanted nothing more than to run to your room, close your eyes and burrow into the bed.

And for a moment, you considered the compliant option. If you just lowered your head and followed along, apologized and insisted you were just being petty or immature or whatever he would call it this time, and took whatever consequence was handed out, then you could do just that, confine yourself to your bed and try to forget it all.

But the shame only fueled the fury, like gasoline to a fire. It was his fault. As scared of punishment as you were, your pride could not stand for simply bowing your head, and as your mind raced, the sheer fury you’d been stewing in all throughout the night before, all the angry words you’d monologued in your head and vowed to spew at him when you saw him again, all came rushing back.

You swallowed, fingers curling even harder around the fabric around your thighs. Now that it was just the two of you, although you still fought it as best as you could, you couldn’t help that your eyes watered, burning as your vision blurred out of pure frustration and misery.

“I… I know you did all of this on purpose! I only got all the way out there because you let me, a-and…”

The words came out in a trembling, wavering voice, far weaker than intended.

He exhaled a heavy sigh, closing his eyes in frustration. His voice was still characteristically gentle, but you could hear his patience waning. “We can discuss this inside.”

“But I—”

“Inside.”

You stiffened, freezing in place. That was not a tone you heard often in your married life, more firm than normal.

You swallowed, gaze darting to the ground again, unable to summon a reply and not wanting to make eye contact again. With another heavy exhale, he pulled at your arm with a gentle tug, and this time, you followed, feet quickly shuffling behind his.

You didn’t say a word, though, through the full minute or so of walking across the courtyard, through the front doors, down the hall, only dimly lit today due to curtains hanging over the windows lining the walls. It occurred to you with a sinking feeling in your stomach that you were headed straight for your shared bedroom, rather than one of the estate’s many drawing rooms and lounges, which meant the anticipated conversation to come would be one you’d both want kept in privacy. Your stomach felt as if it were turning in knots, your chest compressed by an unseen force, each breath feeling strenuous and weighted.

And then, finally, you both came to a halt as you reached the last room at the end of the hall. You felt helpless, unable to do anything as you watched the handle of the door turn, stumbling in as you were guided forward by the hand that came to gently press on your lower back.

Likewise, equally pitifully, you could do nothing but stand there and wait as you listened for the door to close behind you, clenching your jaw at the trepidation in your chest from the footsteps on the floor behind you, but made sure to not let your fear swallow your fury.

“Now,” he began slowly as he moved around you to the other side of the room, voice now back to its usual tone, but still firm nonetheless, “I can tell you have a great deal you want to get off your chest, but you’ll have to forgive me for a moment… your well-being is my primary concern.” He looked you up and down, and his voice took on a note of concern that admittedly sounded sincere. “You aren’t hurt in any way, are you, dear?”

You bit your lip at the affectionate term, and more importantly, at how unbothered he came across. Granted, you now knew just how much of the past twelve hours or so had been entirely within his control, so it made sense that he was never genuinely distressed, but admittedly, it was also disappointing. Part of you wanted him to have been panicked and worried, to get the satisfaction of knowing you’d successfully gotten under his skin.

Still, you shook your head, keeping your gaze to the ground as you gave a curt, frustrated reply. “No.”

“Good,” his eyes closed for a moment, taking a heavy breath of pause. “Well, in that case…” He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms. “I believe this would be the best time to give you a moment to explain yourself.”

You couldn’t miss the obvious foreboding in his voice, nor the way it made your body stiffen.

But you had already prepared for that — you knew it would be intimidating, that it would be awkward and shameful, but you had spent the previous few hours trying to preemptively harden your resolve against that. Besides, after it was interrupted earlier, you now had the chance to get back to what was essentially the pre-written script you’d memorized in your head of exactly every little thing you wanted to say to him.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, the you that was standing there in front of him was significantly less brave than the ‘you’ in the scenes you’d played out in your head on the journey home.

Still, you clenched your hands into fists, thinking you had to at least force him to acknowledge the one point you’d deemed most important.

“You let me leave.”

In your mind, you’d spoken with a bold voice and looked him directly in the eye… and while the same words came out of your mouth, they were instead said with a weak, shrill attempt at an accusatory tone, pathetically looking to the wall as you found yourself unable to summon the gall to look up, once more lacking the firm accusation and self-assuredness your imaginative self had had.

He tilted his head. “That’s not a very accurate way to put it. I never granted you any such permission… I was simply aware of your intent to run off, and didn’t stop you.”

For a moment, you contemplated asking how he knew — but you had a feeling the answer would only make you more upset. His voice was laden with a faux sincerity, a sort of disingenuousness that made your blood boil, enough to embolden you further as you continued.

“And you… you had people following me the whole time, I know you did!” Your voice began to get louder as you grew bolder, bitter anger strengthening you against any trepidation. “They didn't even do a good job! I started noticing them towards the end of it!”

"Well, that would be because they were specifically told that concealment was not necessary.” He kept up the dry manner of speech, seemingly unbothered by your fury. “They deserve a break from high effort jobs every now and then, surely you understand. Besides, they didn’t directly interfere with your little outing, yes?”

He was so calm in contrast to your visible irritation, no doubt at least in part deliberate. It only served to make you even more mad.

“They told the local doushin to — no, you told them to tell them! There’s no other way that could have happened! I-I, I got," in sheer frustration, you jerked your fists in a sharp downward motion, "arrested!"

“I’m very well aware.”

“They put me in jail!”

“I do believe that is the standard process for an arrest, yes.”

“I was all by myself for hours!”

“Naturally. I couldn’t allow you to be placed with any dangerous persons, that’s why you were put in a solitary space.”

You clenched your fists so hard they trembled. “You, y-you let me get that far in the first place, and, and…” A lump formed in your throat again, which you did your best to suppress. “…Just to make me go through all that… I was there for hours before they came for me…” Your face scrunched up as you fought the urge to cry.

You hung your head, shoulders falling as you let your body relax, the fuse of anger burning out as it turned to a quiet bitterness swelling in your stomach. What was even the point? You knew better than to think your emotions would be given any weight, treated as anything beyond trivial.

A few moments of quiet passed, perhaps to see if you would say anything more, or perhaps just to force you to wait in uncomfortable uncertainty. After a moment, he shifted his posture slightly before unfolding one arm, holding out his hand in a standard gesture of speech.

“And what have we learned?”

You never would have thought one question could send such a spark of fury through your body in a single moment. Everything, from the wording to the timing to his tone, felt utterly mocking, infantilizing in a way that made you seethe.

You swallowed, practically trembling. “That you’ll go to any lengths to humiliate me?”

He returned the extended arm to its former position, exhaling heavily, straightening his stance. “It's rather unfair to assume I had such malicious intent. Stopping you early on in the past has clearly not worked in the long term, so further measures were necessary.” He tilted his head to meet your averted gaze, reflexively turning your attention back to him, eyes connecting with yours. “My only intention was that you would have some time to reflect on your series of decisions… and hopefully return with a change of heart. These episodes of yours are worrisome.” He gave a brief pause before finishing, “claiming I had cruel intent when you know in your heart that I only arranged this because I care for you… that's rather harsh, isn't it?”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to acknowledge the notion that the words were genuine. Admittedly having fallen for the words die a moment, you mentally shook off the momentary feeling of guilt.

These situations always went the same way, you'd be driven to apologize and feel bad about your choices. You had never met anyone else in your life with such a mastery of speech-craft as to be able to control your emotions and actions with words as easily as if it were pushing buttons on a machine. The first few times, you'd actually fallen for it, found yourself completely malleable, psyche bending and shifting to another's whims. At least with time, you'd become more resilient, had learned to notice and recognize the attempts… so you believed.

You opted to avoid answering the quesiton. Instead of acknowledging his own words, you turned to another matter that had come to mind during your escapade.

“Aren’t you abusing your authority? How are you even allowed to do this to begin with?!”

He took another deep breath, as if it were a trivial matter, or one that shouldn’t necessitate explanation.

“It’s… complicated, but the law does fully permit estates to employ local forces to locate any missing property belonging to the estate… people employed or bound to it are a sort of grey area in that regard.” After a moment of pause, he added, “besides, I also made it very clear that you were not in your right mind at the time, so your wellbeing was of immediate concern, and they were happy to help.”

“What?” The anger in your tone only rose. “I was perfectly in my right mind, you, you… a-and I’m not…”

A few moments passed as you trailed off, having to pause to collect yourself, blink away frustrated tears.

He opened his mouth as if to respond, but seemed to decide against whatever he'd considered saying, closing his eyes and taking a breath before finally replying in a more exasperated tone.

“You're making yourself upset needlessly. I can only do so much… in the end, I only wanted to keep you safe. You have to be the one to accept the grace you're given. Wouldn't that be easier for you?”

There was still unease to his tone, but the way he said it was nonetheless indicative of a sort of tiredness, as if not wanting to carry on about the matter anymore. It almost sounded like he was saying that you “accepting” his “grace” was all that was required to bury the matter entirely.

You spoke slowly, cautiously.

“You’re not… mad?”

“…I never said that.” He shifted away from leaning against the wall, standing upright. ”Of course, I can’t allow this to go entirely unacknowledged.”

He took a few steps towards you, and you fought the urge to step back, keeping your arms rigidly straight at your side as he continued.

“Normally, a proper form of consequence would be in order… however, after consideration, I realized that this was in large part my own fault, and I owe it to you to take responsibility for that.”

The words took you by surprise. The idea that he was in any way acknowledging that he had any responsibility for what you did was baffling, all things considered. He had never once even acknowledged that refusing to let you leave the estate was essentially holding you prisoner, and usually insisted that everything he did was what was best for you, even if, as he seemed to believe was the case, you did not understand that.

You hesitated before replying. “What… what do you mean?”

He flashed you an amiable smile. “A lesser person would only act on their momentary frustrations, but I’m not the sort of person who acts without understanding the situation. Luckily, I do understand you.” He looked off to the side, holding a hand up to his chin in a pensive pose, before adding in a quieter voice, “I made the mistake of getting too caught up in my work recently. Acting out over feelings of neglect is entirely different from misbehavior out of sheer petulance.”

He turned his head back towards you again before finishing,

“It would be cruel to respond to a cry for attention as if it were ordinary disobedience.”

The words took you aback, and you hesitated in your response, but as it fully registered in your mind, the momentary surprise was replaced with shameful fury. You held your arms firmly at your side, hands balled into fists as you replied.

“What?! I didn't— I didn’t do it for attention!”

You felt foolish for thinking for even a second that he might actually empathize with you, might finally come to enough humility to realize that much of your perceived disobedience was due to the sheer degree of meticulous, total control he held over everything you did. But no, instead, your attempt to run away was being treated as attention-seeking. It felt belittling, degrading.

He took a short breath, as if about to say something, but as his gaze fell upon you again, he simply exhaled, an amused smile forming on his face, replacing the former exasperation — and only infuriating you further, realizing even your anger wouldn't be taken seriously.

“Yes, yes, of course.” He made no effort to hide the dismissive amusement in his voice, either, but cleared his throat before returning to a more neutral tone before you could give any retort. “Regardless, you've been through a lot already. If you can be mature and calm down, make some acknowledgement of the trouble you’ve caused and show some remorse, then, I'm willing to somewhat overlook this.” Making direct contact between your eyes and his, he finished, “Won’t that be easier on us both?”

The obvious dismissal of your statement and implications of what he thought made your face feel hot. The embarrassment that had already been weighing down on you now became suffocating, and the utter arrogance of the presumption of your willingness to comply made you so upset it felt nauseating.

“What does ‘somewhat’ mean?” You tried to suppress the irritation in your voice.

He gave another heavy sigh. “Should you really be asking for specifics? It’s your best course of action regardless.”

You opened your mouth and inhaled as if to speak, holding your closed fists up to your chest, ready to spew every ounce of vitriol you’d been building up, and then, you fell silent as your eyes met.

His expression grew dark, eyes half-lidded and features blank — not contorted with anger nor curiosity, but merely waiting, watching, warning. Anticipating your defiance, prepared to react accordingly.

You looked down, hesitating.

Was it really worth it…? A few moments of lashing out, at what cost? ‘Consequences’ hurt, in one sense or another, they always did, no matter what form that word took.

You swallowed. He was right — one path before you was wiser.

You hung your head.

“…I’m sorry…”

Even with your gaze turned downward, you could see his eyes widen just a bit in your peripheral vision, not having expected such quick compliance — understandably so, based on your past incidents. But after a moment, his expression softened. He took another step, closing the gap between you, cupping your face in his hands and forcing you to lift your head back up.

“Mm. I’m glad you understand. You know, you've matured quite a bit recently.”

You almost, almost found yourself feeling happy at the praise, but then pushed that feeling away. It was part of the way he did things, part of the process, so you'd slowly come to recognize, putting the pieces together over and over until you became aware of how he managed to bring you down to submission each time. You refused to be swayed by that. You were only giving it up and apologizing because it was the was the easier, less painful choice… so you reminded yourself. Now, at least, you'd be done with this, could move on and quietly begin plotting again.

But then, as you felt his hand move down to your shoulder, then to your waist, you remembered the ‘somewhat.’

Yes, of course it couldn’t be left at that, wouldn’t be so simple as forcing you into humility just once.

You knew that full well. These checks of obedience after an act of disobedience never came solitary, and the desire for that subservience to be affirmed was not easily satiated. It would only grow deeper, an increasing hunger for your subservience. Pushing your pride further and further down, carving into your personhood and whittling away anything deemed unfitting. It would only go further, debasing you in increasingly violating ways.

You felt a gnawing in your stomach. You hadn’t thought of that part, in the moment, but the realization now made your heartrate begin to accelerate once more.

His eyes drifted downward.

“…Ah, right. The clothes you’re wearing, we need to have a servant wash them for you. Just set them by the door for now.”

You looked down. You hadn’t even bothered to think about it until now, having been so preoccupied with other thoughts, but indeed, the oh-so-nice and expensive clothing you’d been so lovingly lavished with, was now fully coated in grime and dirt.

At the same time, your immediate instinct was to protest the idea, knowing the intent. He wasn’t going to get you a replacement — which he himself would need to do, seeing as all of your clothing was, no doubt deliberately, kept outside the bedroom itself, and it had been established early on that you were to rely on him or servants to fetch whatever he would have you wear that day for you. Was the command too, then, intentional?

The very moment you even asked yourself the question, though, came the immediate answer, making you feel foolish for even questioning it. Of course it was intentional, planned — what wasn’t, anymore, in your life? You remembered looking back, on the day you were brought here, thinking over the past with borderline horror at the realization of how intricately detailed and precise every detail had been in his effort — what you now were certain was a premeditated plan — to get your family to call off the years-long betrothal you’d already been in, and marry you off to him instead. That realization of it all had kept you rightfully afraid of him, knowing he was always one step ahead of whatever you might attempt.

The corners of your mouth pulled taut with embarrassment, and you pulled your hands in towards your chest again, elbows pressed firmly to your sides. “That’s…”

He caught a glimpse of your face, and in turn smiled, an amused sort of expression. “Come on now,” he took a step towards you, reaching out and grasping at your hands, pulling them out of their defensive position, “even now, you’re still so shy over this?”

“I— no, I’m not—” you cut off, teeth clacking together as you snapped your mouth shut when his hands released yours, instead moving around to the binding ties of your outfit, pulling the knot apart.

You held your hands up to the level of your shoulders, bent at the elbow, fingers curled as if preparing to reach forward, to grasp at his hands, to do something.

But you didn’t.

The exchange was itself a means of conversation, communicating something not fully articulable by word alone. Violating your comfort and dignity, baring you to him, those things themselves were an assertion, a statement. To interrupt would be to challenge that assertion, to deny him. And perhaps it was, in part, also a test, a question of whether or not you would dare to deny the unspoken statement.

As the silk strands came undone, the first layer gave way to the second, and pulling apart that knot caused the fabric bound by it to slide apart, exposing your bare skin to the cool air.

An unspoken reminder that your body was not your own, that any right to autonomy and privacy you might have beyond this room, no longer existed within it. Access to you was not a privilege granted by your permission, but an inherent right, provided by the very contract that legally bound you to him.

The casual, unhesitating manner with which you were stripped down only emphasized that that very reality itself was not something to be regarded as of any great significance, but a fact accepted as readily as any other. Exposing you, touching you, exercising that unconditional access to your body was given no greater thought than utilizing any of one’s possessions.

There was nothing he could ever say to you, nor adequate words to even exist, to fully encapsulate the degree to which you were owned — but with that gesture, you understood all the same.

And even though the humiliation of the reminder made your eyes burn, made you bite your lip, you lowered your hands to your side. An admission of defeat, surrender.

It did not go unnoticed. He smiled.

“Very good. You’re behaving much better today than I anticipated.”

Another moment of praise. He was genuinely pleased. You could see it and hear it through his face and voice.

Were it on any other matter, you might have felt proud to be praised in such a sweet, charming voice. If the praise were on something you actually wanted to achieve.

And then, his eyes trailed downward, running over your body, taking in each detail. His eyebrows furrowed as his gaze settled on one particular spot.

“You really shouldn't lie to me,” he spoke in a quiet, low voice.

At first, you felt a momentary panic, not quite sure what he even meant, thinking you had somehow made a unintentional transgression. It wasn't until you looked down that you saw the scrape just below your collarbones from your, admittedly unsightly, vigorous resistance upon initial confrontation with the doushin the night prior, having essentially had to have been wrestled down to the concrete street. In hindsight, you were even surprised with yourself for putting up such a fight, but at the time it had just been the instinctive reflex, fueled by desperation.

It all felt distant now, as if further back in time than it was, the memory all blurring together. It was only a very small mark, and had now scabbed up as part of the natural healing process, but as his fingers brushed over the spot, you still tensed at the slight lingering sting.

“It doesn't really hurt,” you replied nonetheless. “It's fine…”

He only straightened back upright, closing his eyes momentarily.

“I suppose I shouldn't have expected common doushin to be able to follow instructions… just so you know, I did specifically say to ensure you weren't hurt in any way.” He turned his gaze downward, hand held to his chin as he added in a low mutter, “I'll be sure to only use private hands in the future, should I need something like this again.”

You shrugged, turning your eyes downward to the floor once more. Really, you wanted to not have to think about the incident any further, the mere memory stirring up embarrassment, which did not combine well with your already vulnerable state. “It's fine. It's not a big deal,” you grumbled. After a moment of hesitation, feeling another urge of spite, you added, “it wouldn't have happened if you didn't… do all that.”

He huffed in exasperation, but was quiet for the moment, seemingly composing his thoughts before replying.

“Don’t be disagreeable. We've discussed this. I care for you dearly, but that does not mean that you are exempt from expectations to behave.”

He always gave you that line — that a behavioral matter of yours had been previously ‘discussed,’ which merely meant he'd told you not to do something, or behave a certain way. That was the end-all-be-all — whatever you were told was set in stone the moment it left his mouth, and transgressing against the standard that was set was often treated as if you’d forgotten, as if it slipped your mind, the idea of intentional and deliberate disobedience being something unthinkable to such a degree that simply having done so by accident were more believable to him — and perhaps you ought be grateful for that.

You clamped your jaw shut, turning your head downward.

His gaze turned back to your body.

“…Your nerves are unsettled.” His hand slid it's way down your side, the feeling of touch lingering in a trail behind as his palm brushed over the curvature of your waist. “See, that's what causes these irrational episodes of yours. Stress, overexcitement. It just… builds naturally for you, over time.” After a moment, taking in your expression, he added, “it's nothing to feel bad about, dear. I don't mind helping you with it at all… I'm glad I can do so, really. I worry about how you'd manage without having me to help.”

You hesitated before giving a response. “What… what do you mean? I'm not… irrational…”

It was as if your words went in one ear and out the other, continuing on without responding to your objection. “But again, I failed to keep it in check this time, so this was ultimately my own fault… I'll have to make a note to be more thorough.”

His hand grasped at your waist, pulling you close. His other hand reached up, cupping your breast. He looked over towards your shared bed.

“Come on. Let's get you in bed.”

“Huh? But—”

His grip tightened. “Don't be difficult.”

Your stomach began to churn. You were still angry. The last thing you wanted was to go through what was essentially a humiliation ritual. There was something about the act itself — at least, between the two of you — that made you feel embarrassed and ashamed. The inherent vulnerability, for one, but moreover, because you knew the intent, you knew the way he viewed it in his mind, could practically feel the sentiment. An act of claiming, an exchange of power in which your loss of dignity became his gain of pride and control. Carving into your very personhood, marking you as something belonging to him.

Your opened your mouth, but whatever you intended to say was cut off by your small noise of surprise as you were pulled forward, in a manner that was somehow so gentle in touch, yet forceful enough to move your whole body towards his. His arm wrapped around your frame, the other positioning itself underneath your thighs before lifting you up and moving down to sit.

You fidgeted, tried to pull away — but his grip tightened, as much to secure you as it was a warning, telling you to hold still.

“It's for your sake. This will help you… you may not realize that yet, but you’ll thank me, I promise.”

His hands moved to your hips and turned you so that your back rested against his chest.

“As I was saying, you simply… build stress and neurosis, naturally. It's not your fault, really. You're just sensitive to changes, stressors... Every individual has at least some… defects in their nature.”

His hands retracted, and there was a brief rustling sound before they returned to your skin, now ungloved, flesh on flesh. The contact sent sparks through your nerves.

“That's why people pair with those they are compatible with. They fill each other's needs, compliment each other’s natures… I’m obligated to take those defects and resolve them.”

He gave you a smile — you couldn't see it, but could feel it as his lips pressed softly against your neck. Warm, full of sincerity and adoration.

“I wouldn’t do that if it weren’t out of care… and you in turn provide me with something that needs care and guidance. I enjoy having that.”

For all his attempts at soothing words and the gentleness of the touch, you knew in your heart that there was no doubt that that was part of the intent — to humble you, to tame you and make you docile, to make you submit. Forcing you to such a vulnerable state and inflicting reactions of pleasure was itself an act of exerting power and control.

It was, in a way, remarkable, that the human spirit could not only be broken by both brutal cruelty, but equally — or, perhaps even more effectively — eroded away with a gentle voice and touch, humiliation so deeply intertwined with affection that they became impossible to distinguish from each other, forming a unique sentiment that was both one and the other.

You were endearing to him, but that affection for you was like a venom that ran through your veins — an affection that diminished you, reduced you to some inhuman possession, a toy to be manipulated in any way he desired.

It made you feel sick. It made you feel angry, it tormented your psyche—

Your thoughts were turned to a haze as his fingers rolled your nipple between them. You inhaled a sharp gasp, back arching forward.

Processing your own reaction, embarrassment took place of the momentary pleasure, and your face felt hot. You reached an arm up instinctively to cover your breasts, pulling away from the touch.

“…We've had this conversation before, haven't we?” He reached up, grasping your jaw with a grip just firm enough to communicate a warning.

You swallowed and, albeit not without just a moment of hesitation, lowered your arm. You looked down, breasts now exposed fully. “I'm… sorry…”

He gave you a hum of approval, returning to the former fondling, fingers playing with the sensitive flesh. You bit your lip, breathing growing labored.

After a few minutes, his hands wandered downward, slowly, softly, down to your thighs, then back up over your hips, where they finally settled.

“Touch yourself.”

The command caught you off-guard. Your eyes widened. “…What?”

“Before I help you,” he murmured, “I want to see what you will do for me. That's only fair, don't you think?” He squeezed at your waist.

“Prove to me…” he leaned forward, breath hot against your ear, “that you know your place. Do as I say.”

You swallowed.

It was in your best interest to obey.

You reached down slowly, shivering as your fingers brushed over your clit. You pressed down, beginning to rub your outstretched fingers back and forth. With your other hand, you reached up, tweaking your nipple just enough to send pleasure through your nerves.

“There you go.” He pulled you a bit closer to him, so your bodies were firmly pressed together. He craned his neck, no doubt catching your abashed, embarrassed expression.

Not that he would give you any words of comfort on that matter, tell you not to feel embarrassed. He only smiled, grasping your hair and forcing your head to turn, pressing your mouth to his. It was only a short contact, parting with the softest of sounds.

His grip on your hip tightened, and you realized why he’d pulled back when he spoke.

“Don’t stop.”

You hadn’t realized you had, too focused on the slight surprise to being kissed. You took a shuddering breath, and resumed the motion. Your eyes closed, heightening your senses — the sensation of each touch and the shockwaves it sent through your core to every nerve in your body.

Your breathing quickly became labored. Even if you were inducing the sensation itself, it was good. You bit your lip as a soft, weak little sound came out of your throat, unable to refrain from vocalizing at the intensity of the feeling.

“Not just like that.” One of his hands reached down to your thigh, hand wrapping around the underside of it and pulling it to the side, spreading you open further. “Go on.”

“Mm…” You couldn’t summon any particular words, overwhelmed by the conflicting sensations — the heat to your face and knot in your stomach at the shameless way your body was so exposed, at the feeling of being watched as if the act were a performance, and the haze of arousal that rapidly began to cloud your judgement, obscuring the feeling of discomfiture, drowning your inhibition.

Even without the pleasure compromising your hesitation, you didn’t want to think about the alternatives if you refused to obey — this was thus far, comparatively, far from the worst consequences you’d ever received for acting out.

You reached down further, pushing two of your fingers past the slick coating your flesh and inside your body, curling them into the spot that made you tense, made your muscles spasm, over and over, each movement sparking a rush that surged throughout your body.

Each breath was a deep gasp. Your toes curled, your muscles went taut and your insides clenched around your own fingers.

But something was missing.

It was pleasurable, but there just wasn’t enough to push you over the edge. The sensations were too weak.

Your body had been conditioned something more, and this was not comparable.

Sweat began to accumulate on your skin as you kept curling your fingers, desperately chasing a high. His arm moved from your hip to wrap around your waist, pressing another kiss to your neck.

You tried. Frustration began to build. Your eyes watered as you curled your fingers as hard as you could, pressed as far in as they would go, down to the knuckle.

It wasn’t deep enough.

It wasn't what you were used to. Your fingers were too short, just short of reaching that one perfect spot that made you lose yourself in pleasure, melting to a mewling mess.

You shuddered. You couldn’t reach a climax, no matter how hard you tried to focus. Even without orgasm, though, your exertion reached a peak you couldn’t carry on further from, and your fingers stopped moving as you went limp, trying to catch your breath, frustration and desperation nearly enough to make you cry. Your head fell back, eyes closed as you panted.

You could feel the corners of his mouth upturn against the flesh of your neck.

“…Is something wrong?”

Your jaw clenched, and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

That was the other goal of it, besides proving yourself to him — it was also to prove something to you. Something you didn’t want to admit out loud, something that made your chest swell with bitterness just to admit to yourself, much more so to do so aloud.

“I can’t… I can't do it.”

“Mm.” He pulled you further back against him. “Then, what do you need?”

The tingling sensation, the desperate need, the remnant frustration of lost pleasure, was too much to bear. You swallowed your pride, closing your eyes as you forced the words out.

“…I need you to do it…”

You were expecting him to say something in return, but for a moment, he was only quiet. He began to drum his fingers back and forth against your waist.

“Is that so?”

You nodded again, which seemed to be to his displeasure—

“Use your words.”

“Yes…” You swallowed.

You waited, but no touch came.

“Hm. How odd.” His voice was low and quiet, but unmistakably derisive. “You seemed to think you were perfectly capable of caring for yourself, running off like you did.”

Your eyes welled with tears. You shook your head back and forth, unable to bring yourself to speak.

“No?” His hand trailed downward until it ghosted over your sex, the lightest of touches, borderline torment. “Then, you can't do this for yourself?”

“…No…”

He moved his face even closer, speaking directly into your ear.

“Then what do you say? Tell me exactly what you need. Show me.”

You swallowed. The burning of humiliation in your chest was almost too much to bear. Had your insides not still been alight with the wavering, tight feeling of need, your pride would have outweighed your desire. But in that moment, it did not.

You spread your still-quivering legs wide apart.

“…Please touch me.”

“Mm. And what do you want from that? For how long?”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I want to cum.”

Finally — finally — his fingers pressed down against your clit, enough pressure to send waves of pleasure up your spine.

“There, see…” He pressed another kiss to your face. “Aren't things so much easier when you just choose to be honest?”

You nodded. “Yes. I… I’m sorry…”

He gave a low hum of acknowledgement. “This stubbornness is just your nature.” His fingers slid back and forth, gracing the bundle of nerves with friction. “But that can be fixed.”

You bit your lip. “I… I’m not— ah—”

One motion of his hand was particularly firm, the sensation it sent through your nerves so intense it was almost painful. Your hands shot forward, grasping at his wrist.

It was only when the motion stopped that you realized you’d erred — it was a habit of reflexively grabbing at his hands when a sensation was too intense, trying to pry them off — something he very much did not like you doing.

Sure enough, he sighed, frustration blatantly evident. You jerked your hands away, but it was already too late to take back the first offense.

“…Now,” he started, “Can you refrain from doing that again, or do I need to bind them?”

“I…” you paused, realizing you genuinely needed to think it through. You weren’t certain if you could abstain.

You felt him shift back, leaning away from your body.

“Well, that’s enough of an answer itself.”

You heard the rustling of clothes, felt movement behind you, and you turned your head over your shoulder just in time to see as he pulled off first the top layer, then the undershirt over his head and off his body. You made a soft sound as he then pushed down on your back with a firm touch, forcing you to lean forward, grasping at your hands and pulling them behind your back — firmly, enough to be a clear message to not try to dissuade him, but your pride, weak as it was, still couldn't let it happen with no objection at all.

“Wait, wait, I can do it, I don't need—”

“This is for your sake. Hold still.”

“But I—”

“Be still.” He spoke firmly, but softened his voice as he continued, “It’s not your fault for having that reflex… but you have to train yourself against it. You want to be good, don't you?”

You shut your mouth, nodding as you sounded an answer. “Mm-hm…”

Cloth wrapped tightly around your wrists, using one sleeve to bind them together. Not enough of a bind that you couldn’t break out with some effort, but just enough to keep you from reflexively trying to interfere.

“Now where were we…”

You were pulled back once more, perhaps even closer. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

And his hand quickly moved back down, and the bliss of shockwaves of pleasures overcame you once more. You whimpered, biting your lip.

His fingers pressed more firmly, rubbing circles into the nub, and for a moment, your wrists jerked against the bind as the reflex kicked in. It was too much at once, but now, you were prevented from doing anything about it. As he began to rub in circular motions, your body shuddered, and an involuntary moan came out of your throat — a wanton, shameful sound, laced with pleasure and lust.

“There you go.” You could feel him speak, shuddering at the vibration of his chest against your back and the warm breath against your ear. His other hand rolled your nipple between a finger and thumb. “Give into it.”

Your body trembled against his touch, and jolted as his own fingers pressed inside of you. His were longer, and the touches firmer, and the result was a degree of pleasure you were simply incapable of replicating on your own.

As much as you hated it — hated to think it, hated to acknowledge it, hated to try and not acknowledge it as the reality prodded at the back of your mind — he made you feel better than anything you had ever experienced, better than anything you could ever make yourself feel.

You whimpered, toes and fingers curling. Your hips moved, a rolling motion to meet each pressing movement.

A singular motion, and singular sound, both of which you near-immediately caught yourself doing, having been too lost in the feeling to think clearly. You cut off your voice and went still, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Don’t.” He didn’t stop moving his fingers as he spoke, instead pressing down with harsh force, essentially pulling you back closer to him with the hand partially inside you. “Holding yourself back like that is another form of dishonesty.”

You bit your lip, squeezing your eyes shut, but unable to form a response before he continued.

“And you wouldn’t want,” the fingers that had been gently tweaking at your breast pinched down hard, a momentary spark of pain and the lowering of his voice making you go tense, “to make this unpleasant because you couldn’t be good for me, would you?”

You shook your head back and forth with vigor. There were many punishments in your domestic repertoire that were unpleasant, and the thought of any of them made your heart skip a beat. “No, no, I don’t… want that…”

“Then you’re going to be honest, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Yes, I promise…”

“Mm.”

He kept rubbing his thumb against your clit, even in perfectly synched timing to each motion his fingers curled inward inside of you.

It was so pleasurable, so intense, it made you angry. Mad that he was capable of it, mad that his control over your body was greater than your own, and most of all, mad that he did it with such ease, effortless, that making you come undone entirely was something he mastered without ever being taught.

That pleasure began to build and build. You squirmed and whimpered, muscles throughout your body tensing and relaxing over and over. Your hips rolled into his hand. Each movement built the pressure in your body higher and higher, rapidly reaching a peak.

The edge that climax made you quiver, body and legs trembling.

“There it is…” his voice was so soft and gentle, soothing in a way it had no right to be.

The noise that came out of your mouth was nearly animal-like, a whimpering cry as you threw your head back, quivering and spasming. The waves of sensation pulsated throughout your body, reaching a peak and then beginning to ebb away.

You went limp, bodyweight falling back against his chest, heaving with heavy breaths. Your head felt as if it were spinning, and you stared forward in a dull stupor, body trembling with aftershock.

You twitched at the feeling of his fingers sliding out of you, with a wet squelching sound that made you shiver.

“Look at that…”

He spread his fingers apart, clear fluid forming a trail between them. You bit your lip, tilting your head downward in a futile attempt of avoidance of what you knew well came next — but that effort was quickly negated as he grabbed your jaw, turning your head back up and squeezing your face.

“Open.”

The force of the grip as he squeezed down more or less forced your jaw apart anyway. You didn't even get to take a breath before he pushed his fingers into your mouth, salty taste spreading over your tongue.

“Clean them off.”

Maybe it was a way of forcing you to acknowledge your own bodily reaction, even if you tried to deny it to yourself. Maybe it was much simpler than that — just another way to degrade you, or something simply arousing for him because it just was.

You complied nonetheless. Your tongue swirled around each finger, sucking and swallowing the taste of yourself. Even as he pulled his fingers back out, a string of saliva connected them to your tongue.

And then, after wiping his fingers off on the fabric around his thigh, he returned the arm to your waist, pulling you close, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“See… so much more at ease now, aren't you?”

That was one way to put it. You couldn't even bring words to your mind. Even processing what he said felt like a significant effort. Everything felt far away, your mind like a blank slate, numb and empty. Your body was even more exhausted, totally lax aside from involuntary twitches.

You made a soft sound as he turned your body to the side, just enough to look you face-to-face. Looking down at your watery eyes as they met his, the stupor in your expression, even as your brain began to clear, as if a machine turning back on after a few moments of darkness.

And he smiled. It was soft, full of endearment. And belittling. It was not made any better by the small chuckle he gave, patting the top of your head.

It burned in your chest, down into your stomach.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your lower lip quivered, an admittedly petulant pout. Shame formed a knot in your stomach. Disappointment in yourself, ending up like this again after swearing so many times over that this one would be the last, the last time you'd come apart so easily, the last time you'd find yourself spent and susceptible to the touch that seemed as if it were designed for your body.

And he laughed. An amused chuckle, patting your head.

“Mm. I had a feeling that wouldn't be quite enough.”

He leaned in, firmly grasping at your arms as you tried to squirm, bringing his mouth so close to yours, forehead resting against yours.

“But, that does admittedly work out for my sake.”

You grunted in surprise as he hooked his arm under your legs again, this time only lifting you just enough to set you down onto the padding of your bed, gently pushing on your shoulders until you were flat on your back, arched over your hands bound behind you.

“A-ah, I…” You swallowed, grasping at the sheets to the best of your ability. It was nothing you weren't anticipating, but the vulnerability made you tense.

It didn't help that he paused any motion, eyes trailing over your body, before reaching down and running his hands over your flesh, one moving to grip at your waist, the other your opposite hip. You couldn’t reach to cover yourself, forced to lay bare and vulnerable. Instinctively, you pressed your thighs together, but firm hands grabbed at the undersides, pushing them apart and positioning himself between them so you couldn’t close them again.

The former act was not enough. Putting you through the ordeal of being made to wait in jail like a child in time-out was not enough, exposing your body was not enough, toying with your body and forcing an acknowledgement of his own control was not enough.

Your lip trembled.

But anger still pervaded through your negative emotions. It compelled your courage, you felt defiance surging up. You had to look him in the eye, tell him exactly what you felt, tell him you knew what he was doing and push him off, then, maybe then you'd have the satisfaction of some sense of control.

You could do it. You had to.

“You… you're just doing the same thing as before!” Your eyebrows furrowed. “You’re trying to, to—”

“Again with this?” He tilted his head. “I really wish you wouldn’t assume such ill intent. This is how people love each other… you know that.”

You bit your lip. You almost, for just a second, fell for it, almost felt guilty. You shook your head forcefully, clearing your mind of the thought.

“No, I won't let you—”

And with that, there was a rapid shift in expression. His eyes narrowed in a piercing, foreboding look. You went silent.

Your shoulders stiffened. The words came out on impulse, resolve of defiance broken as quickly as it had formed. “I'm— I'm sorry—”

Dammit.

For once, the dark expression did not shift back to pleasant as soon as you apologized — an indicator of having gone too far. His hand slowly reached up, this time not in a loving caress or gentle-but-firm grip, but outright harsh grip on your jaw.

“You…”

He tilted his head forward to more directly look you in the eye. His voice was low and cold, making your heart race further.

“Do not ‘let’ anyone do anything.”

His fingertips pressed into your flesh, squeezing your face between them.

“I know you understand your place. Don’t behave as if you don’t.” Finally, his voice softened as he finished, “I can’t help you if you keep fighting me every step of the way. So… you’ll control yourself, won’t you?”

You swallowed, nodding your head, twitching as the motion made his fingernails dig into your cheeks.

“You know I don’t like being so harsh with you, don’t you?”

You nodded again.

“Good.” He leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours. Only for a short, chaste moment, but a slow, sensual motion nonetheless. You closed your eyes, tuning out the rustling clothes, heavily breathing with anticipation.

“You’ll have to forgive me for this. This whole ordeal has been stressful for me as well.”

You didn’t get time to ask what he meant — he rammed himself into you all at once, completely stuffing your body in one rough, forceful motion.

You cried out, back arching and body stiffening. You felt your insides clamp down, pulsating against the intrusion.

His hands tightened their grip on your waist, holding you still as the momentary sting ebbed away.

“There you go… calm down.”

You felt him slide out, then push back in, the latter movement sending sparks of sensation running up your spine, causing you to go tense all over again.

Your breathing became ragged, legs twitching and spasming at the sensation. You tried, without thinking, to snap them shut, but it only resulted in effectively squeezing his waist with you thighs.

The intensity of the sensation naturally induced a reflex of strain and exertion to your muscles, a need to channel the feeling through your body, causing your toes to curl, your thighs clamping down harder, quivering at the bare touch of flesh to flesh. You closed your eyes, but couldn't drown out the sound of skin making contact to yours, the sound itself increasingly accompanied by a wet squelching as skin met fluid with each passing second, leaking out of your body.

“You're so much more honest like this.” You could hear just the slightest strain in his voice, otherwise so very composed to perfection. “So meek… it's lovely. Once that resistance in you is fixed… you'll be perfect.”

You could see the corners of his mouth upturn into a look of amusement.

“You should see yourself.”

Your body stiffened, but all you could do was whimper. The words felt like a cold knife to the stomach — and you knew he knew that. Knew that that moment was you at your must vulnerable, the peak of awareness of your own helplessness, the moment you felt the most degraded, and yet, it still wasn't enough.

He leaned in close, speaking directly into your ear, so close you could feel the warmth as he spoke, never ceasing to move all the while.

“Whimpering and drooling like that,” he murmured. “You're trembling… and that expression on your face is so adorable. Like you can't even think straight.” He leaned back up, enough to look you in the eye — now welling with tears.

And again, he only smiled.

“How precious.”

His hands ran down your body, grabbed at your hips, and began to pull you, jerking your body back and forth to meet his own movements.

It was too much. Even with the knot of emotion in your stomach, you felt a hot, tingling pressure build in your body. Your legs quivered, the wanton little sounds from your throat higher and higher.

You didn't want that. It was the final part of this ritual that so demeaned you, one more confirmation of his control of you. You pressed your hands into the mat, trying to push yourself back — but it was only met with a harsh pull, forcing your body back until you practically slammed against his hips.

“Don't fight.”

It was the last thing you heard. You threw your head back as the sensation became overwhelming, back arching and eyes rolling back as the feeling reached a peak. You could only faintly register the high-pitched sound that sounded as if it couldn't be you, a voice you didn't recognize.

And then it began to ebb away. A hazy stupor filled the void as the pleasure dissipated, a feeling of exhaustion. Your weight went limp.

You made a soft sound as he grasped your jaw again, turning your head just enough to place another kiss to your lips.

“There you go. Look at you now… all that stress and in you, totally gone. You can see it in your eyes, even.”

He paused before adding,

“Well, gone for now. I'll have to start monitoring for it more closely.”

You shuddered at the sensation as he slid out of you, fluid spilling out onto the sheets.

You felt him reach behind you, untying your wrists — you brought your arms to the front of your body, but the forearms only laid useless, having fallen asleep from your weight.

He came to rest beside you, upper body slightly propped up on his elbow, head resting in his hand, looking down at you with adoration and endearment.

And you were so, so weak. So much weaker than you wished you were, body, mind and spirit alike. So weak that, in the rush of emotions that followed, you found yourself slowly crawling forward, burying your face against his chest with a pathetic little noise.

“Poor thing. Maybe that was a bit too much for you…”

His arm reached behind your back and pulled you close, and the comfort you felt seemed to melt your mind into nothingness.

“You should rest for a while,” he continued, “then we'll get you cleaned off. We have a few hours before you'll need to be ready.”

After a moment to process the words, you tilted your head up with the softest of inquisitive noises. The cold, creeping dread began to spread through your stomach once more.

He seemed to realize, then, that you didn’t understand.

“Ah, right, you wouldn't have known.” He reached out with the hand he wasn’t leaning on, brushing his fingers over your scalp. “While you were gone, I sent someone to arrange a house visit with a psychiatrist… a private one that works for families such as ours.”

His words certainly didn’t help soothe your nerves. Your mouth felt dry. Your voice came out weak, hesitant, part of you not wanting to ask, lest you learn an unpleasant answer.

“…Why?”

He tilted his head in just the slightest, loose strands of hair shifting and waving with the motion. “Well, keeping your needs in check does help with your condition, but I’ve realized it would do you good to have a secondary means to treat your hysteric tendencies as well.”

“My…” You swallowed. “My what?” The words slowly pieced together in your mind, hitting you with a sense of dread and confusion. You squirmed backwards, shifting just a bit away from him. “There's… nothing wrong with me…”

“Of course, of course, there’s nothing wrong, that’s…” He spoke in a reassuring sort of tone, as if to comfort you. “…A harsh choice of phrasing. You just need some help, is all.” After a moment of pause, he added, “don't worry, it's perfectly normal that you aren't self-aware of it. That's usually how these illnesses work.”

His arm reached out further, pulling you back towards him, pressing your bodies together before he continued.

“He’s just required to see you in-person for a little while before giving you anything. Regulations and all. We’re just going to get you something to make you a little more… docile.”

His arm wrapped around your body, and he pulled his head back just a bit to look you in the eye, smiling with endearment.

“Ah, I can tell by your face that you’re nervous. Don’t worry, I'll be there throughout the whole thing… I'll answer any questions, you just sit there quietly, alright?” He pulled you a bit closer, planting an affectionate, short kiss to the top of your head. “I know that sort of thing is a lot on your nerves.”

If your trembling could be felt, he didn’t say anything about it, only carrying on with his gently-spoken words.

“We won’t have to worry about you having these… irrational escapades anymore. And you’ll be so much happier, too.”

You felt his hand on your back, firmly in place — you were pressed so close together that there was no need to pull you any closer, but perhaps he wanted to be sure you couldn’t pull away.

“So… rest for now, alright?”

Mind and heart alike racing, in your stupor, you let the pause linger for too long. The hand on your back began to close in on itself, fingernails brushing against your skin just enough to send the faintest of pains up your spine.

You had no strength left in you to give anything other than the correct answer.

“Okay...”

He only gave you a hum of acknowledgement, and began to stroke your back up and down, a pattern that should have been comforting and soothing, yet was anything but. Exhaustion wore on your body, but even as you forced yourself to close your eyes, true rest was nowhere to be found.

#awful men portraying themselves as selfless/benevolent >>>>>#genshin smut #.ay

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dailyadventureprompts · 6 months

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Heavy Topics: A Child's Vision of Evil

One of the first big “aha!” moments in my journey to retrofit d&d’s laughably bad lore was the realization that the way the game treated evil didn’t make much sense. As a dungeonmaster I was asked to create dramatic stakes for my players but the out-of-the-box antagonists supplied to me were as laughably one note as the pollution loving villains in Captain Planet. Who would ever worship the demon god of killing everything that lives? Of torturing you for all eternity? Of being unpleasantly covered in slime?

None of it really made sense until I started to understand the world and recent history through a political lens, at which point several things became clear:

Despite how large a bogyman it played in the satan scare of the late 80s, the people who laid the foundations for the lore of d&d came from a background of conservative american christianity, and baked a lot of that ethos into the game.

The conservative christian imagination can only see things in black and white. People who disagree with them can’t just have a different opinion, even if that opinion is objectively good, they need to be wilfully evil . In fact they must be trying as hard to be evil as the christian is trying to be good, because they’re a backwards person, a monster, a demon.

This idea of the “Backwards Person” is the exact process that gave rise to the bloodlibel, to the witchpanics, to the redscare, and yes, the 80s fear that satanists lurk around every corner sacrificing babies and putting poison in candy because they love evil that much. It’s the same thought that’s given rise to Q-anon and the groomer panic. “People who disagree with just can’t just have a different opinion, they must be demons.”

D&D’s classic enemies are similarly all “backwards people”, hardwired to do evil so that players always have an excuse to kill them. While on the surface it seems harmless or even childish it leads to the default d&d world being one where peace is impossible and genocidal violence is the only correct answer.

We can do better in our writing than a bunch of shut-ins who wanted nothing more than to play cowboys and indians while ripping off Tolkien. Whether you want to write a sweeping epic or a mindless dungeon crawler, there’s a way to reconfigure d&d lore.

Join me below the cut for a discussion of different ways to use evil in your games.

Children cannot control their emotions nor their fear, they lack the life experience necessary to contextualize things beyond a surface level reading. If you ask a child to "imagine something bad" they're going to take something that scared them, something gross or unpleasant or threatening and imagine it blown up to cartoonish proportion. Tolkien got bit by a spider as a kid and the entire fantasy genre has never lived it down.

D&D is weird because it keeps these childish ideas about evil and drags them forward into an adult context. Those three demon gods I mentioned in the intro make a sort of sense when you realize they're fears of dying, pain, and uncleanliness made manifest. That said most of us having outgrown our childish simplicity understand that those things are neutral, Spiders might personally gross you out but we all understand that doesn't make them bad on a spiritual level. In the base d&d lore however that personal distaste is ALWAYS true: Evilness is synonymous with ugliness and monstrousness, drawing a thick crayon line between the good people and the bad things.

That's where we get our particular flavor of backwards people, because one of those fundamental (pun intended) fears d&d inherited from it's creators was xenophobia, fear of the strange, but also fear of the stranger. When the white, suburban, middle class, christian creators of d&d imagined the other they took all the bad things they had been told in their youth about people who were not them and made them into monsters: That's why the default thinking enemies of d&d are tribal primitives who squat in the ruins of greater civilizations worshipping demons while coveting the beauty and wealth of cultured people. It sounds hyperbolic, but there's a one for one parallel between between the weird sexual anxieties conservatives have about black men and orcs raiding human lands to kidnap women as breeding stock. Same fears about emasculation and race mixing and ethnic replacement, only d&d gives the good ol' boys a narrative vehicle where they can revenge themselves upon their imagined foe.

Most modern d&d is not like this, and I chalk that up to the demographic shift that's happened both because of time passing and the influx of new voices that came along with the 5e renaissance. We're all media literate enough to avoid the obvious racial pantomime... except in cases like the Hardozee when the devs port something almost word for word from an older edition and we get a thanksgiving uncle/facebook aunt screed about how the silly monkey people are really SO happy to work for the refined and civilized and white elves.

What's left behind however is that pervasive childlike worldview: Where perfectly natural things that creep us out (like rot) or frighten us (like pregnancy) are made universally villainous regardless of any themes that are going on in that specific story. Ask yourself why the creators of a piece of media made their badguys look and act like they did, rather than just accepting that it's that way because "the lore says so".

Anyway, that's my rant over, and I promised you guys some different versions of how to use Evil:

Classic demons or lovecraftian horrors make for good bossfights but are thin on character, one of the basic building blocks of story. To remedy this, pair your unremitting force of darkness and destruction with a troubled and nuanced mortal agent, someone who is trying their general best but has been forced down this low road by circumstances beyond their control. This gives your roleplaying focused players something to play off against while your combat focused ones battle a building sized monstrosity. Raw evil isn't interesting, it becomes interesting when we see what it makes morally grey people, even good people, do in reaction to it.

Extremity is one of the best ways to turn normal people into villains, a looming disaster or recent crisis that's putting the pressure on everyone and preventing anyone from thinking beyond protecting themselves and their own. Beyond the people acting rashly, you're also going to have a legion of opportunists offering to fix the problem as your higher rank of antagonists to overcome.

Similarly, if you're going to have your villain backed up by legions of faceless mooks you're going to need a reason for their loyalty. Your villain is offering them something worth dying for, which gives your heroes an alternate win condition for overcoming their numbers beyond genocide.

If you're willing to take a step into a more fanciful, cartoony universe, feel free to play with the idea of good and evil as arbitrary teams: It's the badguy's job to cause chaos and it's the goodguy's job to stop em, they're all working professionals and the dungeon is the workplace comedy. This is fun, but then lets you escalate the tension when someone doesn't play by the rules. What happens when a zealot starts executing evildoers who'd already surrendered? what happens when the villain summons something that is more interested in devastation than wacky hijinx?

Think of morality like a punnett square: There's the party, and then there's the villain who wants the opposite of what they want. THEN there's the villain who wants what the party wants, and the ally who wants the opposite of party wants. Suddenly rather than a simple binary, the party is forced to balance the interest of varying groups as well as their better judgment. This can be made even MORE complex by creating different categories of "what the party wants", which is generally how you get complex political dramas like game of thrones.

#heavy topics #writing advice #dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #ttprg #pathfinder

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asterias-record-shop · 11 months

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Okay, but Stiles finally spoiling you with a date night after weeks of working himself to the bone on his current FBI case 😭❤️👏🏻 Maybe he gets a call in the middle of the date with someone trying to interrupt (unintentionally), but tonight is all about you?

no because this is so cute!! probably going to make a pt 2 :) also, Dylan O’Brien as Thomas?? omfg

—𓆩[honey, honey]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - FBI Agent! Stiles Stilinski x Fem! Fiancée! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 1.3K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - It’s been a long fucking week, and Stiles has finally caught a break to spend time with you… until he gets a call right in the middle about the case he’s working on, but tonight is about you and nothing is going to change that.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - totally made you a spoiled princess in this, Stiles loves you too much to say no || FBI office based off of the BAU from Criminal Minds and like a little crossover || cursing I think? ||

“How’s the case coming along, Stilinski?” Agent Morrison asks, a sigh coming from Stiles’ mouth as he stares down at the stack of files on his desk.

He grins up at the man. “Absolutely delightful, Agent Morrison.”

“Oh yeah?” He laughs, looking down at his watch. “Gonna tell the missus you’re going to be home late?”

Stiles looks at the wedding band he didn’t stop playing with, sighing. “No, I’m going to go home early, actually. It’s date night.”

Agent Morrison laughs. “Date night! Date nights are good, don’t stop having those,” he looks down at his ring, sighing. “Makes the spark dim.”

Stiles sits there awkwardly for a minute. “Not too late to start them up again?”

Agent Morrison nods slightly. “You’re right. Well, your new partner is supposed to be coming in any minute, he was supposed to be here-”

“I’m here! I’m here!” A voice yells, quickly running in as they panted. “I’m here, I missed the bus.”

Stiles stares for a minute, jaw slack. “Dude, are you okay?”

“Yes! Yes I’m fine!” He walked forward. “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, I work with the BAU at Quantico, I’m here for Mieczyslaw-”

“Stiles,” the said man stands quickly, shaking his head. “Everyone calls me Stiles.”

Reid paused. “Stiles… Stiles Stilinski?”

“That’s what I said,” Agent Morrison stands, sighing. “Well, you both have fun. If you need anything, don’t call me.”

“We will call you as soon as we have a problem, Morrison!” Stiles yells as Morrison goes up the stairs.

“Don’t do that!”

“I’m positive I will, Morrison!”

“You do that, I’ll kill you!”

“Calling you right now sir!” Stiles smiles when he hears the door slam shut, another man stepping into the office. “That your bodyguard?”

Reid looks back and he shakes his head. “Oh no, that’s Morgan! Derek Morgan.”

Stiles hums, waiting for the other man to come to his substitute desk while he waits for everyone to clean his office.

The taller man walks over, a bright smile on his face. “You must be M-”

“Stiles!” Morrison yells out, opening his door. “Your offices are clean and Y/N is here!”

His brows furrow, it wasn’t that late was it? He opened the drawer with his phone, it was only 2:30 and he wasn’t supposed to get off until at least 5:00. “Uhm, I’m sorry, give me one second.”

When his phone rings again, he quickly answers it. “Hey honey-”

“I brought you lunch.”

He looks up, smiling when he sees you holding up a bag of food making him hang up, quickly excusing himself from his new partners. He jogs over to you, smiles wide as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your head. “Hey.”

You giggled, handing him the bag. “Hey. Made some of your favorite, just thought I’d bring it by.”

He nods, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you in for a soft kiss. “You’re fucking amazing, honey.”

“I know,” you laughed as you pressed another kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you later?”

He basically pouts. “You can’t stay a bit longer?”

You shake your head, softly brushing your hand against his cheek. “Last time I stayed we fucked in your office.”

He grins mischievously. “Well my office is almost clean-”

“Behave, Stiles!” Two voices say, both yours and Morrison’s whose door was now open.

“Yeah, okay!” He yelled back, looking down at you. “He won’t know.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, I still have to get back home and finish making our food for tonight.”

He really does pout this time. “You’re no fun.”

You hum. “I’ll remember that, Stilinski.” He groans dramatically before you press a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you. See you later.”

He nods, smiling. “I love you too.”

It doesn’t take long for Stiles to get off, giving his number to his new partners before making his way home where you already made dinner, and for fucks sake it was delicious.

You both settled on the couch, a movie you both really weren’t paying attention to as you sat on Stiles’ lap, his hands on your hips as you leaned back into him.

He laughs as he holds your chin, pulling you back just enough for a soft kiss. “You know, I was thinking-”

“Oh well that doesn’t sound good,” you teased, making him roll his eyes playfully. “What about?”

He shrugs, leaning into the crook of your neck. “Just… you know, I get my bonus soon.”

“Right,” you say, looking back just enough to look at his eyes. “What’s up?”

“We should take a trip, or something,” he says, shrugging. “I have some paid time off, you work for yourself… what do you think?”

You smiled widely, nodding. “I think that sounds fucking amazing.”

He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your lips again. “Perfect. And how’s our wedding coming along?”

Stiles left you in charge of pretty much everything, all he was doing was paying for it.

“Oh, good! I’m going dress shopping soon,” you say with a wide smile. “I’m super excited. Have a feeling this one will be great.”

You both had been engaged for a while, but you both wanted everything to be perfect before actually tying the knot, and Stiles wasn’t going to let you walk down the aisle in a dress you didn’t love.

He smiled, his hands sneaking around your waist as he kissed the back of your neck. “I know it will be, love. You liked that dress we saw in Mexico, right? You want to go dress shopping there?”

You gasp, quickly turning around in his lap. “You’d do that?”

He laughs. “Well, of course I will. But we need to bring an extra suitcase to make sure it fits.”

You pull him in for a firm kiss, humming. “You’re fucking amazing.”

He smiles before his phone starts to ring, pulling you closer before you finally pull away. “What if it’s important?”

He shook his head, pulling you back down. “Nothings more important than you.”

He pulled you back down for another kiss, your hands pushing into the back of his shirt before his phone continued to ring. You pulled away, sighing as you grabbed his phone and handed it to him. “Don't worry, I’ll be okay for the five minutes it takes you to talk to them.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “What if I’m not?”

You answer the phone, making him straighten. “This is Stilinski.”

“Hi Agent Stilinski, this is Dr. Spencer Reid, we met today, I’m your new partner along with Derek Morgan, but he isn’t here right now…” Reid continues to mutter, making Stiles raise a brow.

“Dr. Reid, is there a… point to this call?”

“Oh, yes! Sorry, I was wondering if you were busy right now? I found something big.”

He looks at you, your slightly sad smile as you pressed a soft kiss to his temple. “We can finish the movie later.”

“Y/N, honey-” he sighs as you go into the kitchen, rubbing the center of his forehead. “I’m sorry, Dr. Reid, do you mind if we talk about it tomorrow? I’m with my fiancée right now.”

Reid exclaims. “Oh, right! Sorry, talk to you tomorrow bye!” Reid hangs up quickly, Stiles smiling as he goes into the kitchen.

He comes behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and kissing against your temple. “Moved plans to tomorrow. We got all night, honey.”

You giggled, turning around. “I already looked at tickets to Mexico. What week are we thinking?”

“Any week you want, darling. This week is all about you.”

Taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪 𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪 𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪 𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪

#asterias-record-shop #requests open #stiles #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf stiles #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles x reader #stiles stilinski smut #teen wolf #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf x you #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf smut

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delusionaldeadgirl · 6 months

Text

Between me and you, our little secret

summary: you and spencer work together and have been dating in secret for 2 years. your coworkers have to find out at some point

warnings: smut, people being grossly in love lol

based on my character.ai chats but without those damn censors

Looking away from his files of papers, Spencer asks “Do you have anything new?”. “Nothing yet. You?” (Y/N) replies. “Not really.” He stares at the page almost like if he looks hard enough something will change.

(Y/N) walks over towards Spencer’s desk, planting her feet right next to him. Seeing him looking so disheveled and stressed out, she quietly utters “I love you, Spence”. “I love you too” he responds as she grabs his hand, dropping it suddenly as they hear footsteps come up behind them.

“(L/N), Reid, it’s getting late. We should all head home. We have a big week ahead of us.” JJ says noticing the two are still there while she was on her way out. The three of them walk out together, (Y/N) and Spencer getting into their respective cars as well, heading to the same home.

They both walk in the door together. Spencer speaks up first. “So…” He smirks mischievously. “You know we have the weekend to ourselves”. “What is it, Spence?” (Y/N) asks. “Why don’t i make my beautiful girlfriend dinner?”. “That would be lovely” (Y/N) replies. “Great” he kisses her head “I’ll tell you when everything is ready”. “Ok baby!” (Y/N) says as she takes her shoes off and puts them by the door.

After a bit, he yells out “Dinner’s ready” and she walks towards the table. “Also… I have a surprise for you” Spencer says smiling. “A surprise?” (Y/N) asks. Without another word, Spencer walks away and comes back with a small box, handing it to (Y/N). (Y/N) opens up the box to find a necklace with both of their birthstones dangling from the chain. “It’s beautiful”. “A beautiful necklace for a beautiful girl”. He says as she stares at it in awe. He puts it on her from behind and kisses her neck as he finishes. “Are you ready to eat?” he asks and she nods in response.

After finishing dinner, the couple sits with each other on the couch and Spencer speaks up. “You’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever laid my eyes on.” “You mean it?” she asks blushing slightly. “Yes. i’ve never met anyone as sweet and beautiful as you”. He says as he puts his hand on her thigh. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.” “You’re the lucky one?” she asks before continuing. “You’re the smartest and most thoughtful person i’ve ever met. And you’re quite easy on the eyes” She says chuckling. “I’ve never seen someone so perfect”. He looks down at the ground and then back up at her before saying “You’re the best part of my day. God I want to marry you so bad. Spend the rest of my life with you and no one else”. “Then do it”. She responds. “What?” he asks, slightly caught off guard at her serious tone. “I said then do it.” She says. somehow getting more serious. “I will. Tomorrow?”. Now she’s the one caught off guard by HIS seriousness. “Tomorrow we’re going to pick out a ring and I’m taking you to the courthouse and marrying you.” “ARE YOU SERIOUS?” she asks. “Yes. (Y/N) (L/N)? Will you be my wife?” He asks with nothing but admiration and love in his eyes. “YES A MILLION TIMES” she says jumping up and down in excitement. He picks her up bridal style, kissing her with such passion. She whimpers slightly making him smirk while kissing her. “Why don’t we do some celebrating?” he’s asks, carrying her straight to their bedroom, not waiting for her response.

Laying her down, Spencer kisses her passionately. “You’re so perfect” he says in between kisses, making her blush. “I love the way you blush for me” Spencer announces as his lips go from her lips, to her jaw and all the way down to her neck. “You are everything to me.” he says looking back up at her. “You’re smart, you’re sweet, and you’re the most gorgeous person i’ve ever met….” he continues. “Shut up and kiss me, Spence” she cuts him off. “As you wish” he kisses her with even more passion than before.

Their tongues dance around eachother’s. “You know you drive me crazy…” He smiles softly. “You drive me crazy too” she declares. “Oh do I? What shall we do about that….” “You tell me”. Spencer kisses her neck making her breath hitch. “You like that?” he asks rhetorically. Not even waiting to hear if she responds, he bites down on her neck making her moan. “S-Spence?” “Yes my love?” “I need you”. “You have no idea how bad I need you too. Let me show you” He says grabbing her hand that was on the back of his neck down to the growing bulge in his pants. She gasps a little. “Want me to fix that?” she asks. “More than anything” he responds.

They rip eachother’s clothes off not caring where they end up. Spencer enters her with an almost pornographic moan coming out of her mouth, making him gulp in reaction to such a beautiful sound. He looks down watching the two of them connect together as if her pussy was designed perfectly for him. She runs her hands through his hair tugging on it slighting, making him groan at the feeling of that and her walls tightening around him. Spencer nearly abuses her clit with his thumb as he holds her hips down with his hands, making her see stars. He once again looks down. This time seeing the bulge in her stomach that his dick is making. He starts biting her neck, marking his territory before whispering “You’re doing so well, My good girl” causing her to close her mouth to muffle the loud moans and whimpers begging to escape. “Don’t do that, my love. Open your mouth for me. I want everyone to hear who you belong to. Who’s making you feel this good, (Y/N)?”. “You” she whispers. “No baby…that whispering shit isn’t going to cut it. Who do you belong to?” “YOU SPENCER” she can barely get out as the feeling in her stomach finally snapped and she came undone right then and there. Shortly after, Spencer finishes inside of her. They stay in that same position for a couple seconds before he pulls out. Taking his finger and pushing the mixture of their cum back into her hole as she whines in overstimulation. Licking his fingers clean. After cleaning up, they lay side by side in bed immediately falling asleep. Too tired to do or say anything.

The next morning they wake up entangled in eachother’s arms. The sun shining bright on the two of them. “Good morning, love.” Spencer says as he admires how beautiful is girlfriend looks as the sun rays from their window hit her skin. “Get up and get ready, we’re getting married today.” He says. Him having enough energy in his body for the both of them.

As (Y/N) walks out of the bathroom in her only white dress she owns, Spencer can’t help but tear up looking at his future bride. Although this isn’t the most traditional way to get married, neither of them have the patience to wait any longer.

Arriving at the jewelry store, Spencer opens the car door for (Y/N) and holds her hand as they walk in together. After looking through cases of rings, Spencer hears (Y/N) gasp as she stares at the most beautiful ring she’s ever laid her eyes on. A silver band with a small yet perfect diamond on it. “Is that the one?” He asks. All she can do is nod as it finally hits her that she’s marrying the love of her life within the next couple of hours. Spencer pays for the ring and as they arrive at the car, though it’s not the most romantic setting, he gets down on one knee, sliding the ring onto her finger.

Walking out of the courthouse hand in hand, the couple can’t help the almost painful smiles on their faces. Reliving the words “Congratulations! You are now husband and wife” over and over again. “You looked so beautiful during the whole thing, (N/N). I mean you look so beautiful all the time but specifically in that moment…” his rambles are stopped by the most loving kiss they’ve ever exchanged. “I can’t believe i get to call myself Mrs. Reid” she exclaims with a twinkle in her eye. Spencer has never been so happy than in this moment. “You are the most amazing wife i could ever ask for.” he says on the verge of happy tears. They reach the car as Spencer turns (Y/N) to face him, planting his hands on her hips. “What?” she asks. “Nothing. I just wanted to take a look at my beautiful wife that’s all.” he says. watching a blush creep up onto her cheeks. “Even though it’s not your typical wedding, and you’re not wearing a typical wedding dress, you still look like a goddess to me.” he exclaims. She doesn’t respond, the bashful blush on her face is enough of a response for him to dip her like in those cheesy romance movies and kiss her passionately as she giggles in surprise. “Ya know… I feel like seeing as though we both have rings on our fingers, our friends are going to figure out at some point. Once they do, we should totally have a late celebration surrounded by all the people we love.” she says. “If you want to do that, we’ll do that. I’ll do anything for you” he responds in a cheesy manner. “But i wanna keep this between us for a little bit longer to savor this moment.” she says. “Me too. Let’s head home and plan that celebration, my love.”

They did not get any planning done but they did do some celebrating. The newlyweds can barely get in the door without touching eachother. “I need you” she’s whispers in between kisses. “How bad?” “Really bad. I’ll do anything” she desperately responds. He smiles softly, slightly biting her lower lip. “Anything Mrs. Reid?”. “Anything.” she whines. Spencer gently pushes (Y/N) up against the wall and then brings both of his hands down to her hips. “So all I have to do is ask? You’d do whatever I’d tell you to do?” He says while leaning in closer, biting her right under her jawline. “Yes. I’d do anything for you, my love”. Spencer’s face turns slightly pink at the sound of her desperation. His hands gently lifting her shirt just enough so they can now rest on her waist. “Just do as I say. I want you to give yourself to me.” He says this in a deep quieter tone. “I will.” she whispers. “Good girl, Let’s not waste time Mrs. Reid” he says before grabbing her hand and leading her to their shared bedroom. He lays her down pressing his lips against her, more passionately than before. “Surrender yourself to me (Y/N)” he growls. She takes off her dress, “Is this what you want?” asking with a new found sense of confidence. Spencer’s eyes move down her body and then back up to her face, feeling himself get harder the longer he stares at her. “You’re perfect. That’s exactly what i wanted”.

He bites and sucks her perfect skin, leaving marks from her jaw all the way down her stomach. She makes a mental note to remember to cover those up before work monday. “You’re such a good girl for me” he whispers into her skin. He continues kissing down her skin reaching her thighs spreading her legs apart. “Tonight is all about my beautiful wife.” he says earning a whimper in response. He slid her panties off, admiring what is rightfully his. He starts to lick softly at first, teasing her folds before finally diving in. It didn’t take long for (Y/N) to be a moaning mess underneath him. Spencer worked his tongue inside her feeling her walls tighten. Spencer knew she was close. She instinctively grabs his hair as she came undone on his tongue. Leaving both of them a panting mess.

That monday, they couldn’t hold back their child like giggles when they both woke up for work. Reality struck when they were both standing outside the doors of the elevator to the BAU trying to act as though they have no relation other than coworkers. “I’ll go up first and you come in maybe a minute behind me okay?” Spencer says to his now, wife. Spencer gets there before her and sits down at his desk. (Y/N) walking in like it’s a regular work day, notices Morgan standing alongside Spencer talking about a case. Spencer slightly leans forward before making eye contact with his wife then looking back at Morgan. After their conversation subsides, Spencer walks over to (Y/N)’s desk, whispering to her slightly. “Have you noticed Emily has been eyeing us recently?” he asks her. “Yeah. she definitely clocked my ring as she walked by my desk a couple minutes ago.” (Y/N) responds. “Um..Spence? Don’t look now, but she’s walking over here.” she says behind her teeth. Spencer however, disregards her words and looks right at Emily, giving her a deer caught in headlights look. “No no no..” he whispers trying to race to his desk.

This falls short as the woman steps in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. Spencer blinks at her a few times, trying to think of something to say. “Emily…I-I…is everything okay?” he stutters. “Can I ask you guys a question?”. They both nod their heads in response. “Is there something going on between the two of you?”. There it is. After two years of being so careful, it finally happened. Spencer sighs “Y-Yes Emily, there is.” he says with a hint of defeat in his words. “She is..um..my wife”. Emily nearly chokes, not expecting that statement to come out of his mouth. She looks at (Y/N) for any kind of response, but all she gets from her is a nervous smile and the slight raise of a hand showing her ring. This catches Emily off guard. She looks between the two, back and forth, trying to process this information. “Oh my god you’re married? That means you guys dated and when did you have time for that? And how could we not tell?” She rambles on. “How did you mange getting married in secret? Why didn’t you tell any of us?”. “With this job comes danger and stress. You saw what happened to Hotch and his wife. We didn’t want the same for eachother.” (Y/N) says, finally speaking up. “Did you two plan on ever telling anyone?” Emily ask. “We didn’t think that far ahead” (Y/N) responds still slightly nervous. “You do realize at some point you’re going to have to tell Hotch seeing as though you need to change your name on legal documents and stuff. We do work for the government.”. (Y/N) laughs a little then actually registered what Emily said. “Oh Shit.” was all she could say before looking at her husband. Just then, Hotch calls the three over to the conference room. “We have a case”. Spencer and (Y/N) look at eachother, and then back at Emily, before looking back at eachother again. “I guess it’s now or never, (Y/N)” Spencer says breaking the silence.

With a sigh, (Y/N) walks ahead of the other two. Noticing all of her colleagues are already in the room, She mentally prepares for the bombshell she’s about to place on the whole team. Going up to Hotch she nervously asks “Hey Hotch, could you do me a favor?”. “What’s up, (Maiden L/N)?” he responds in his normal stern yet still welcoming tone. “U-Um..” she starts to stutter. “Is everything okay,” he asks, cocking an eyebrow waiting for her response. She looks at her colleagues who are all now staring at her with worried looks on their faces. “Um…I need..uh..mylastnamechangedonmyfiles.” she says the last part rather fast, almost trying to get it over with as fast as possible. Spencer is behind her, nervously tapping his foot, leaning against the door frame.

He looks at the girl, quite puzzled. “Is something happening to you we should be worried about?” he asked, taking into account what line of work they’re on. “Um. No. I got married”. He looks at her with the most emotion she’s ever seen on his face since she started working there. Her coworkers gasp at her statement. “You got married? Who did you marry?” he says to use, eyes wide. “S-Spencer.” she stutters, looking at her husband and then back at Hotch. He almost drops his case files as he looks between her and Spencer. “You’re married…to Reid?” his eyebrows raise as Spencer walks over to her, putting his hands on her shoulder. “So when did this happen?” He asks in a slow manner. “Saturday.” Spencer finally speaks up. “Saturday?” Rossi says rather loudly. “We’ve been dating for 2 years if that makes it any better.” Spencer says awkwardly. “How did we as profilers not catch this?” Morgan asks the congregation of people. They all nervous laugh and exchange a couple ‘I don’t knows’. Penelope runs over grabbing Spencer and (Y/N) in a group hug and starts happily giggling. “YES MY OTP IS REAL”. Morgan and Rossi look at eachother “What the hell is an otp?” Rossi asks Morgan as Morgan just shrugs.

After everyone settles down, the newlyweds get congratulations and hugs. “See? it wasn’t so bad!” Spencer says as he holds his new wife tightly.

A/N: if you got this far, i hope you liked it. this is my first time writing anything like this since like middle school. i’ve never written smut before but i feel like it adds more flavor to any fic so it was needed lol. feedback is always welcome just don’t be mean i’m fragile lmao. lmk if yall want more.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #mgg #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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cat3ch1sm · 2 months

Text

💚~ hi!! this is my first fic in so long, im so sorry for disappearing for almost two months ... idk I've been at a loss for motivation for a while. happy new years i guess😭. but it's a story based off of @a-hazbin-reader recent headcanons about alastor (first hazbin hotel writing!! exciting !!) i happened to come across it and immediately saw a fic idea finally. all credits to them and the person who requested the original writing (hope they see this too lololol) !!! also yes my anime writings will also return so yayy im officially back!!

heads up this is super long it's like 15 pages cause ya girl got a little carried away 😅 i hope you all enjoy and reqs are open for all!

🌲❦(๑˙❥˙๑)~ mentions of violence , abuse, bit of blood, alcohol, language, lewd language a little bit at the start, fem!reader

alastor x fem!reader

"Angel. Are you able to draw absolutely anything else?"

The aforementioned spider demon stared straight at Charlie with his brow arched and a shit-eating smirk on his lips. Beside his face he haughtily held up a sheet of paper with one of four hands, a drawing depicting nothing other than a giant penis.

"Nope." He popped the "p."

The hotel residents and employees, including Angel, Husk, Vaggie, Nifty, you, and Alastor were doing Charlie's usual scheduled feel-good activity. The devil's daughter had given out paper and pencils, gathered everyone in a circle and told everyone to draw something that made them happy. And of course Angel Dust, lewd as always, had spent a frankly concerning amount of time drawing the member currently on display on his paper.

Everyone just stared at the drawing in silence. Examining it while Angel continued to hold it up with not an ounce of shame on his face.

"Why is it... anatomically correct?" you finally questioned, tilting your head and squinting at the piece.

Vaggie, sitting beside her girlfriend, let out an exasperated groan, looking from the drawing to Angel with undisguised revulsion. "Angel Dust. First you drew pills, then you drew a liquor bottle, and for the last three goddamn turns we've given you, you've drawn a dick. Come on. Are you even trying-"

"Whadd'ya mean?" Angel asked innocently. "Charlie said to draw somethin' that makes me happy. Dicks make me happy. And as a worker here, you shouldn't be judgin' me," the porn star added smugly, making Vaggie let out an impatient growl.

Business as usual in the Hazbin Hotel.

"Well, I mean, you can't really say he didn't try," Husk deadpanned in a gravelly voice. "I mean, look at the vein-"

Ding dong!

"Oh, wow, hey, someone's at the door!" You'd never seen anyone move as fast as Charlie in that moment, and Vaggie was in close pursuit. In a split second, Nifty's tiny frame was flying after them both.

"Someone's at the door!" Nifty repeated in a high-pitched voice.

"Right. While they're distracted, I need a damn dick- fuck. Drink," Husk snapped, rising from his place on the floor. Angel immediately started laughing while Husk wasted no time lighting into him. "Shut up. You and your fucking anatomically correct dick got into my head," you could hear Husk snarl while Angel's taunting laughs never ceased as they headed off to the bar.

With those two gone, it was just you sitting in the circle, blinking. "Right," you murmured, standing up and dusting yourself off.

"Well, my dear? What did you draw?" came the oh-so-familiar drone of the Radio Demon's voice from the corner of the room. You couldn't help the smile that spread across your lips at the sound of it, and glanced up to see Alastor standing with his trusty mic stand, beckoning you to come closer. Of course, you obliged.

You scoffed a little, smile turned slightly sarcastic. "Well... I was going to draw you, but Angel suddenly became the Picasso of Penises and I didn't get around to it."

Alastor laughed good-naturedly, wrapping an arm around your waist and planting a gentle kiss on your head. "Ah, always the sentimental one, aren't you, my dear? Well, no matter. It's the thought that counts."

Your smile turned genuine again at his gesture and Alastor noticed. "There's that smile, sweetheart. Now, if you'd just keep it on your face at all times without fail, we could be quite the formidable pair."

You kissed your teeth with mock exasperation and lightly shoved Alastor away. "Oh, here you go again. And I thought we were having a moment. Alastor, my face just cannot stay like yours for that long-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Charlie came rushing back into the room, her sudden entrance startling you a little. She made her way up to you and Alastor. "Hey, um, Y/N? There's a woman at the door who says she's looking for you. She seems really upset."

Your face wrinkled in confusion. Someone looking for you? You weren't friends with anyone really outside the Hotel and those affiliated with it, so you had no clue who would be searching for you. You glanced at Charlie with a "What's going on?" look and with some reluctance pulled away from your boyfriend's grip to follow her.

As you neared the lobby, you heard a distressed-sounding voice in the door, and confusion growing you walked a little faster to the entrance. But before you could even register who the visitor was, she'd thrown her arms around you, fingernails digging painfully into your skin. But the stench of her familiar perfume wafting unwelcomed into your nose, into your mouth, smothering you and strangling you let you know the identity of this woman without even having to see her face.

You instantly stiffened, limbs suddenly like metal rods, not at all softening into her embrace. Your eyes went wide and you could feel your pulse speeding up.

"Mother?"

"My love! Oh, my precious girl!" she cried, pulling out of that suffocating hug for a moment to cup your cheeks in her cold hands, hands that no matter how gently they touched you their touch would always sting. She peered into your eyes with watery ones of her own, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I missed you so, my dear. This is where you've been hiding? I was so dreadfully worried!" Her eyes, always scrutinizing, ran up and down your figure in the way that made you want to tear the flesh from your bones.

"Oh, and I was worried you were starving somewhere. You were such a frail, skinny thing before on Earth. It's a great relief to see you've put some weight on your bones."

And the first stone was thrown.

"Mother." It was the only word you could seem to utter, fighting the urge to throw up, bile collecting in your throat. Her voice was like a slap to the face, and it was only your mother's grip that kept you from actually staggering backward. And how the others were just staring, awed, at the scene, Charlie's eyes sparkling with tears, Vaggie with a hand on her shoulder and a knowing smile, Angel and Husk watching contentedly from a distance, and Nifty clinging to Alastor who was smiling as usual. God, if you didn't vomit right fucking now, you'd be surprised. But you knew what they all saw in their clouded vision- a heartfelt reunion between mother and daughter. But really? It more closely resembled a predator at last capturing its prey.

You really couldn't hear what she was saying over the pounding in your head, but somehow you were in her arms again, and she was fawning and cooing over you like you were a child, showering you with kisses that burned like molten iron and rocking you back and forth. Always she loved to put on a show, loved being the center of attention.

It made you sick.

You managed to come out of your stupor long enough to shove your wailing mother away, unfazed by her crocodile tears. It was like waking up from a haze. She stumbled back slightly, and you backed away, your entire demeanor hardening. Your tone was flat when you spoke.

"What are you doing here?"

You apparently weren't doing that clean a job of masking your emotions, because the venom in your voice caught even you off guard. Your mother looked hurt- that act wasn't new to you, either- and your friends and partner surrounding you shot you disapproving and mildly disgusted looks that clearly wondered why you were being so cold to your own mother. You dropped your eyes to avoid the accusing stares, unable to slow your breathing and fighting the desire to lash out. Charlie looked bewildered and hurt, Angel Dust arched a brow, Husk appeared disapproving and Vaggie’s venomous expression said everything she wanted it to. How dare they look at you like you were the bad guy without knowing shit! She couldn't care less if you lived or died. She was here because she wanted something, and nothing more. Perhaps she heard about your role in the extermination of the Extermination and wanted a piece of the popularity you'd recently found yourself gaining. Or she came because she was probably destitute, the frivolous bitch, and wanted to suck up to either you or the powerful people you were now associated with. Whatever it was, you didn't care. You wanted her gone.

But it was clear she had no intention of leaving.

"All this time, and not one visit. And she never calls," your mother moaned in anguish, now addressing her new audience. "Perhaps I wouldn't have to track you down like a bloodhound if you would just come see your poor mother every once in a while." Her voice was overflowing with hurt and heartbreak you just could feel wasn't genuine. Before you knew it, she had broken down into sobs again, and you could only stand there stiffly, rage boiling, while the always empathetic Charlie moved to comfort the woman, rubbing her back soothingly while she sent Nifty off to get her tissues for her tears. The dirty look Vaggie shot you- "How cruel of you to do this to your innocent mother,” it said- sent heat rushing straight to your chest. Jesus fucking Christ, how could they fall for this shit? Your stomach twisted again, and this time you actually did nearly puke, suppressing a dry heave.

You did not pay any mind to your mother's display- you refused to give her the satisfaction. You turned in the opposite direction, arms folded, nails digging into your skin hard. You felt nothing seeing her cry but bitterness and icy detachment.

"I don't want to see you-"

"Well, now- who do we have here?"

Alastor appeared from the shadows with his sharp-toothed grin, glancing at you first and then your weeping mother. Before you could stifle it, a rush of hope surged through you- if anybody could get this infernal woman to leave, it would be Alastor. You turned towards him, hoping he would see how distressed you were- he was typically fairly perceptive when it came to you and your feelings. But alas, your mother caught his attention first, peering up at the Radio Demon standing over her with teary eyes and wet cheeks, a piteous expression on her face.

"The Radio Demon? Oh, well, a being like you mustn't worry about who I am. I'm just- a poor mother come to visit her daughter. But she... doesn't seem to want to see me." She sighed in a melancholy manner and slowly unburied her face from the tissue she'd been holding. "I suppose I will simply see myself out."

"Oh, nonsense. Y/N's mother, are you? I absolutely cannot allow you to remain on the streets. I insist that you stay." Alastor extended a hand out to your mother, his maniacal smile gone suspiciously gentle. It was disgustingly familiar; it was the smile he reserved normally just for you. "As... abrasive as your daughter may seem at the moment"- you felt him cast a look over at your back turned to him- "I'm sure she wouldn't want you suffering like this. Please, you're welcome to remain here."

You wanted to cry when he said this- could he really not see who this woman was? Did he really think you were just being testy? And when your mother took his hand and held it for much too long, you could take it no longer. And as everyone crowded your mother, showering her with welcomes and greetings and kindness, you pushed past everybody and walked straight out of the hotel doors, the last thing you saw being the tauntingly smug smirk on your mother's face before you slammed the doors behind you.

When you returned to the hotel, drunk, night had fallen. You hadn't seen any of your hotel mates since you'd left, and as far as you knew nobody went after you after your abrupt exit. Who the hell cared about that now, though? You'd talk to them about your deranged mother when you got inside, without her presence. Perhaps Alastor had just been being nice when he told her she could stay, and they hadn't actually been blind to why you were acting the way you were. Maybe they were just being supportive of a guest when they saw you acting out of the ordinary, knowing you usually were never snappy and stony, and still took her side. Maybe so.

You wished you hadn't had so much to drink.The pounding in your head was worse than when your mother had shown up earlier and your eyelids felt heavy. You had tripped a minimum of ten times on the way back and almost let two thugs take you in their car with them. You hated being drunk, but your mother you hated more.

With unsteady hands you pushed open the doors of the Hazbin Hotel, vision blurring a little. You weren't amazing with alcohol, and again, being drunk wasn't your favorite thing. But the moment you entered, you realized you weren't nearly drunk enough.

In the lobby sat your boyfriend, Alastor, enjoying a cup of tea with none other than your mother. The two were laughing together, which incensed you enough, but what made you wish you'd just blacked out at that bar was when you caught sight of your mother's hand on top of Alastor's as they shared a laugh over God knows what.

It didn't take long for the two to notice you in the doorway, a turbulent, unreadable expression on your face, standing as still as a statue as you took in the scene. Your mother turned to you and smiled, waving the hand with the cup of tea in it.

"Why, darling, we hadn't realized you left! Alastor is quite a charming gentleman. We were just having a moment." She slipped her hand from on top of his with a slightly mischievous smile.

Oh, she knew exactly what she was doing. You had no fucking clue how, but somehow your mother had discovered that Alastor and you were an item. She wasn't sitting here with anyone else but Alastor, drinking tea with him, laughing with him, holding his hand. And she was wearing makeup she hadn’t had on when she’d first come in the hotel- red painted on her lips, blush dotted on her cheeks and glitter on her eyelids in a display clearly meant to make an impression on Alastor and Alastor alone. It wouldn’t be the first time she'd gone after one of your partners, but it angered you no less- it was like the woman wanted to take your place somehow.

Alastor turned to you as well with a smile, but when he saw the look in your eyes, his brow furrowed ever so slightly. However, he made no comment at your slightly disheveled appearance and picked up his expression once more.

“Why, hello, my dear. Your lovely mother was just telling me about her life before you,” Alastor enthused. “A lively woman she was! I’ve heard story after exciting story. Quite a wild one, indeed- rather unlike you, sweetheart.”

You gave Alastor what could only be described as what is called ‘the thousand-yard stare,’ expression flat, not knowing really what to say to that. Despite the fact that you were in a bit of a daze still, either from the alcohol or the fact that your mother was on a date with your boyfriend, the haughty, self-superior expression on your mother’s face was not lost on you. Nor were the cow eyes she was giving him, or how when Alastor reached for the teapot to refill his cup her hand was conveniently already on the dish, lingering beneath his for what felt like hours.

She turned to Alastor, looking up at him with that sickly sweet, beaming grin of hers that she always plastered on her face when she was really about to lay it on. “I’m still wild if you ever care to find out,” she purred, batting her lashes at Alastor with an unmistakable air of seduction.

Before you could even register it, you heard yourself saying, “Get out.”

Both your mother and Alastor turned to face you, your mother’s face having dropped and Alastor’s eyes piercing into yours.

“What?” your mother asked, looking at you with wide, glassy eyes. You truly saw red for a moment, knowing damn well those tears were as false as Angel’s lashes, and the twitching in your muscles to just lash out was almost painfully difficult to stifle. Alastor’s smile wavered a little as his eyes darted from you to your blubbering mother, who had already started her shit.

You advanced forward, your stride making your mother jump and Alastor stand, and without hesitation tore her hand from Alastor’s, yanking her arm with force that momentarily startled even you. She was pulled from her chair and forced to stand up.

Her voice full of anguish, she pleaded, “Baby girl, what did I do wrong?” However, unmoved by her over-the-top performance, you’d already started dragging her out, not bothering to respond to her or explain why you were throwing her out. She already knew; you could see past the tears and wails and her struggles to pull away from you. Fueled by fury, distress and the afterbuzz of the alcohol, you hauled your protesting mother out of the hotel, pitilessly leaving her outside in the dark, and forcefully slammed the doors behind her. There were muffled screams of your name coming from the other side, her fists pounding on the door, but after a bit they faded away.

The moment she was gone you instantly felt as if a weight had been lifted off of your chest, slumping against the door with a breath of exertion and relief. But that relief quickly dissipated when you locked eyes with Alastor, who was advancing on you, his smile obviously strained. The way he spat your name at you made you shrink back slightly, realizing that he was actually not pleased.

“You cannot just throw your own mother out like that. Into the streets? My dear, that is no way to treat your mother. And frankly, it’s rude.”

You felt anger rising once more, but you didn’t want to start anything with Alastor despite the fact that he had no idea what he was talking about. Of course it looked simply like bad etiquette from his standpoint; he had no idea who your mother was. And somehow you didn’t feel it was proper to tell him- you knew how much he valued his own mother and mothers in general, and as sweet as you had always thought that was, you knew he and his rosy view of maternal relationships wouldn’t understand and perhaps not allow for your turbulent relationship with your own mother. And you didn’t want to be the one to tarnish his otherwise endearing perspective by explaining how abhorrent of a person your mother was. So despite how much you just wanted to scream at him, to tell him he had no clue what was really going on, you kept your composure, inhaling shakily.

“Alastor, please. You- you don’t know what you’re talking about. So just stay out of it, alright?”

“She’s your mother, not the devil, dear.” Alastor’s tone was back to normal, and he was speaking in his usual radio voice as if he was talking to just anyone, and it made your stomach churn.

“She’s not innocent, Alastor, she’s in Hell-”

“Ah, but so are you and I, sweetheart.”

Your face crumpled, and you found yourself coming up short for a rebuttal. Before you could stop them, tears started to well in your eyes, frustrated that you couldn’t get through to him. Out of spite and pride, you blinked them back harshly. Alastor tilted his head and started to come towards you, his mic stand clacking on the ground as he walked, and for a moment you felt a glimmer of hope, thinking that he truly wanted to talk and get to the bottom of your animosity towards your mother.

But the Radio Demon breezed right past you and, before you could stop him, opened the door, and your mother whom you’d thought had given up at last and left waltzed right back in, suddenly no longer the aggrieved mother you’d thrown out and back to beaming a mile a minute. The self-assured smirk she sent your way had your blood boiling with rage, and you felt powerless to act. You wanted to slap that smirk off of her face, but why wouldn’t she smirk? She had Alastor exactly where she wanted him, and both of you knew it.

“I apologize sincerely for the earlier… incident,” Alastor told your mother with a note olf sympathy in his voice, and again he took her hand; you had to tear your eyes away, back to the scene.

“Aren’t you charming!” your mother exclaimed, voice pleasant and upbeat. ‘Don’t even think of it, I’ve already forgotten.”

“You’re too kind, miss. But in order to make up for it, I’d like to offer you to spend the night. I would hate to send a lovely woman such as yourself out on the streets of Hell after sundown. I implore you.”

Fucking Christ. You didn’t even have to see her to know the way she was grinning at you. Your shoulders tensed, rising to your ears, and the tears burned hot in your eyes. Not wanting to give her the satisfaction, you bit your inner cheek hard enough to draw blood so as to not make the slightest sound alerting her to your tears.

“What a kind invitation. It’s nice to know at least somebody wants me here.” An icy silence from you. “It’d be rather rude not to accept; I would be happy to spend the night.”

“Lovely!” Alastor praised.

You couldn’t take any more. Unable to stifle your sobs, hot tears falling down your cheeks, you tossed back a cracked “I’m going to bed,” and stormed out of the lobby with your head down, rushing upstairs as fast as you could and ignoring Alastor’s calls of your name. Just as you slammed the door to your room, you heard your mother say, “Oh, don’t worry about her. Let her cool off for a bit, and then I’ll go after her. A mother always knows how to cheer up her child.”

It was quiet now. Hours ago Angel Dust had returned from his work and Charlie and Vaggie had locked up for the night. Nifty had been, though with much effort, put to bed by Husk who had then closed up the bar and retired himself. You didn’t know where your mother or Alastor were, and you didn’t want to.

You were the only one up now, and you had finally run out of tears. Your head was stuffy, your eyes were sore and bloodshot, and you could feel the beginnings of a hangover coming on. It felt like days you’d spent just crying in your bed, unable to suppress the emotion you’d felt since your mother reappeared that morning. Charlie had actually come to check on you earlier, worried, along with Vaggie, but Alastor had told them to let you be for now. You’d heard their muffled conversation from outside your door.

You just wished Alastor would understand, that they all would understand. Your mother wasn’t a mother. She didn’t nurture, she didn’t love, all she did was belittle you, bully you, and take from you. Yet never once had you been able to figure out what you’d ever done to her. You had tried so hard to help and to please her as a living child, then teenager, then adult- tending to your siblings when she was out on the town, working multiple jobs to take care of the house while she spent the day blackout drunk and the nights in the city, and still desperately believing she would change, you sent her portions of your salary when you grew older and begged her to utilize the money, but she always blew it on material shit. And as if it wasn’t enough that you had to be the mother to yourself and your siblings, she beat you too, mostly when she was drunk but sometimes you felt it was just for her amusement or to make you feel small and worthless. As a teenager she did nothing but sabotage you- you couldn’t ever have friends over because she was always passed out on the couch or acting erratic and stinking of cheap liquor, and you had to fight like hell to get your siblings out of there after you left home for school. And yet you had still had hope for her.

That all changed when you came to Hell. It was the end of the road for real now, and you figured there was no point trying to reconcile with your mother anymore. So you’d left her in the past, thinking it was over, finally allowing yourself a little peace. But you hadn’t realized the extent of the resent you’d been harboring until she showed up at the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel. All those feelings just came rushing back.

Another hour or so passed and your swollen eyes were dried out and heavy-lidded. Exhausted from fretting about your mother and regretting the amount you'd had to drink, you turned over in your bed with a stifled groan and closed your eyes, hoping that sleep would finally find you and you could escape the events of the day at least for a little while. But just as you were drifting off, you were startled by the sound of your bedroom door opening.

You let out a moan that was half confusion and half sleepiness, and rolled over just a little to glance at the door through hazy eyes. “Alastor?” you mumbled questioningly, rubbing your eyes groggily.

But the voice that responded woke you right up.

“Not a chance, pet.”

You sat up instantly, knocking the bedcovers off. In the doorway, a shadowy silhouette in the dimly lit hallway, was your mother. A discordant note of exasperation sounded in your head; the woman couldn't let you be even at this hour? For the moment at least, you were more mildly annoyed than pissed like you were earlier, just wondering what in the hell she could possibly want now.

“Why are you even-”

You cut yourself off and immediately jumped out of the bed just as your mother lunged at you like a pouncing tigress; you'd sensed the attack in the way she had been moving and acted accordingly before she could maul you. It didn't mean it didn't still catch you off guard, though.

Your voice rising, you snapped, “What the hell are you-”

Again you were interrupted when she sprung off the bed and snatched your wrists in her iron grip before you could dodge again; her clasp was tight and bruising and you winced painfully. You caught a glimpse of her eyes in the faint light, and they were inflamed, wild with fury she'd probably been suppressing this whole time. It wasn't a new expression.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she snarled, voice trembling with fury.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you demanded, tearing your wrists from her grasp and moving a distance away from her so she was on one side of the bed and you were on the other. By the bewildered look on her face, she was clearly not expecting you to break away so effortlessly; maybe thinking she could just abuse you like she did when you were a defenseless child.

Like hell.

“What the hell are you even mad at me for?”

Your mother, seething, launched more accusations at you. “You think you're better than me, now, is it? Saw your sorry ass on the news after that damn Extermination rebellion. Bet it took your ego up a few notches killing those Exorcists, huh? And now that you're in some fancy hotel, dating some powerful boytoy and hiding behind hell's princess, you think you can just get rid of me?”

“Apparently fucking not, because here you are. And I'm not hiding. I'm trying to get away from you.”

Your mother let out a bitter, droll laugh. “Oh, you think that's how this works?” she hissed in an icy manner, and even though you were already a good distance away you backed up further still. “Think again, whore. I'm the one who deserves to be here, not some ungrateful little cunt who just happened to fall out of me. If I have to live destitute in the back alleys of Hell, so do you.”

The heartless insults and vulgarities she hurled your way would have shattered the living version of you. But it was about time your mother learned that you were no longer the pleading daughter you’d been on Earth, and instead of piercing your heart the names merely bounced off of you.

“You might recall I spent my whole damn life trying to help you,” you answered with equal coldness. “And for nothing, too, because here the hell we both are. Don't blame me because you turned out to be the nothing you always were.”

Without warning, she lunged at you, rushing forward like a charging bull, and though you tried to dodge she managed to snatch a handful of your hair and slam your head into the wall. You let out a cry of shock and pain and spots exploded in front of your vision before you reached up, tore her hand from your head and shoved her forward. You advanced again, teeth bared and fists balled, unwilling to let her get up- but before you could swing, there was a crackle in the air- and what followed was a cacophony of static, crackling, and microphone feedback that would've deafened an elephant. But the sound wasn't new to you, and you weren't surprised in the least when you lifted your eyes to see Alastor, smile maniacal and glowing red eyes wild as he entered the room. The sudden explosion of sound made your mother flinch and clap her hands over her ears, and seeing your opening, you kicked her to the ground; her head hit the wall rather roughly and she lost consciousness, her body going limp. You were breathing heavily, staring at her body sprawled on the ground without pity.

Alastor's eyes lost their luminescence and his smile softened; and he came over to you, attempting to touch you, but you shied away. You weren't necessarily ready to forgive him; if he'd just done a little more pushing and hadn't invited your mother here with you, this could have been avoided. You dropped your eyes to the floor.

“I'm sorry, my dear,” Alastor offered in a voice that was sufficiently staticky. “I wasn't too kind to you today.”

You wanted to say, no shit, but held your tongue, back to him still. Feelings of resent still swirled within you, but admittedly, hearing his apology did make them dissipate a little.

“Why is it you didn't simply tell me she was like this?”

Now you were silent not out of spite but more because…you simply didn't know what to say? Where were you to even begin? How would you explain that you didn't want to somehow tarnish his view of mothers by explaining your history with your own? And that you didn't want him to feel guilty about having a good relationship with his mother while yours was knocked out on the floor in front of you? And that you didn't want him to lose his love of mothers because you were unfortunate enough to have a shitty one?

Somehow you managed to splutter all of that into something coherent, because Alastor gathered you in his arms without waiting for your approval, which you didn't mind, finally feeling somewhat okay since your mother had first shown up. You felt his hands in your hair, taming the out of place strands, and he lifted your wrists to his eyes, tutting in disapproval when he saw the bruises beginning to form. He settled for wordlessly kissing the deepening marks gently, but when he spotted the gash on your head where your mother had slammed you into the wall, his smile turned positively venomous. His head did a full 180 on his neck, which always made you cringe, to glare at your groggily awakening mother, who froze in her position on the floor when she caught his alarming gaze.

Alastor turned back to you, static popping in the air, and his smile grew- if that was even possible. “Well, sweetheart? What would you like me to do with her?”

You were frankly tired now of fighting your mother, who had staggered from the ground, rage still evident in her visage but with Alastor present she wasn’t about to act. So with a weary sigh, slumping into Alastor’s chest, you muttered, “I just want her gone.”

“Anything you wish.” And within the next few minutes, Alastor had summoned Nifty, who was more than eager to take out the trash, and had the tiny janitor drag your mother from your room by her hair. You lost sight of the two after they left, but by the way Nifty was giggling the entire time she was hauling your mother, you had a feeling the next several hours wouldn’t be too enjoyable for her.

You’d been on edge the whole day, but you didn’t quite realize the sheer amount of tension your mother’s presence had placed on you until it was only you and Alastor inside the room. His hand traced soothing circles around your back, and you finally felt like you could breathe.

The morning, after what seemed like centuries, finally did arrive. You were already up although day had barely broken, and that was because the earlier commotion had disturbed the hotel residents and they had literally gotten you and Alastor (who had evidently felt bad enough to spend the rest of the night with you, which he didn’t often do for posterity reasons, kissing the side of your head where it was wounded and apologizing once more) up out of bed to barrage you both with an onslaught of questions (and Nifty remaining suspiciously silent save the occasional maniacal giggle). With some reluctance you gave the group a brief explanation of everything that had gone down, Alastor standing beside you with a protective hand on your shoulder. Long story short, everyone basically grasped that they’d fucked up by allowing your mother in and judging you harshly about it, and before long Charlie was in tears and begging for you to forgive her, Vaggie had admitted her remorse over it, Angel Dust was shifty-eyed and sheepish, and Husk apologized to you formally. You dismissed the apologies with a grateful look, and that seemed to satisfy them all except Charlie, who you had to tell straight out you truly did forgive her at least five times and that only set her off bawling again to the point Vaggie had to carry the girl out.

Alastor, although one couldn’t tell by his face, apparently did feel guilty about his involvement in the whole fiasco because he took you out for breakfast and spent the rest of the day with you, and by the time night fell once more your cheeks hurt from smiling so much and your spirits were significantly lifted. It wasn’t until the two of you were in bed together (again, your lucky day, you didn’t even have to convince him) that he broke the long, contented silence you two had been sharing to inform you curtly:

“You didn’t ruin my opinion of mothers, you know.”

You sat up at this, eyes wide with hope and relief. He rose along with you to meet your gaze.

“I didn’t?”

“Oh, no. My dear, I love my own mother dearly, but don’t think I’m not aware that others may not have the same relationship with their own mothers. I did admire your resilience, though, and though it really wasn’t necessary, I do appreciate your attempt to spare my feelings. If I do say so myself”- his hand came to rest on your lower belly- “you seem like you’d make quite a stellar mother yourself.”

“Alastor.”

“Merely a thought.”

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin art #hazbin angel dust #alastor #alastor x reader #charlie morningstar #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel headcanons #vivziepop #vaggie #vaggie hazbin hotel #Reader x alastor #alastor x female reader

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inkdrinkerworld · 8 months

Note

going through some breakup blues rn😞😞😞

could i please have smth w dealer!remus?? maybe she’s had a shit week so she goes to buy and her and remus hangout and he finally makes a move on her

miss my boy (dealer!rem) ((and also my ex pls help me💀))

aw babe im sorry you broke up :(( i hope this lifts your spirits a little

remus stops breathing for a short second when you walk into his apartment that doubles as his dispensary. he's sure sirius had let you in on his way out and he finds that he doesn't mind.

not when you're wearing his jumper from the last time you were over and a mini skirt that makes your legs look stunning to him.

"remmy, i need three pre-rolls, please." you slump down into his sofa, head dropping to his lap with a familiar ease that makes both your hearts jump.

you'd always been affectionate with remus, but it had been hard determining what was okay and what wasn't at first. he'd hardly smiled when you did anything flirty or flambouyant, then you had learnt his little tells.

like now, his hand pets your head and then falls to your shoulder. a light pressure and heat that bleeds into your skin.

"three? you usually only take two," another tell. he's always listening, always picking up on what it is you're saying even if you don't think it's super obvious. "is something wrong?"

anyone watching you now would think remus is being his usual self, but his eyebrows are a little too close for it to be regular concern. you're sure if you told remus someone was messing with you he'd sort them out even if he said nothing in the moment.

you sigh, shutting your eyes when his fingers follow the curve of your neck to the back of your head. "just school and work. think i need a breather this weekend." you say it all in one breath, relaxing into remus even more when he begins applying pressure to the base of your skull.

"how about you share mine with me and i give you two to take home?" remus pulls a pre-roll from his pocket and holds it out to you. "i'll give you the majority," he dangles the offer in your face and you smile.

"okay," remus lights it for you, taking the initial drag before handing it off to you. "thanks remmy."

you only sit up halfway, leaning into remus as you take hit after hit. your eyes go droopy, head feeling heavier and lighter at the same time as you pass of the quarter of the blunt that's left to remus.

"you wanna talk about it?" he asks around the blunt, watching you lay your head back into his lap and reach for the soft blanket that remus keeps on his sofa.

"not much to say, everyone thinks i'm disposable and that i'm just good for sex. it can wear you down." the way you say it makes remus frown.

"that's not all you're good for," he says it with enough conviction that your eyes set on him. "you're not just sex and those people are knobheads for thinking that."

you give remus a smile, a bright smile that makes his heart warm. he can't really imagine people only seeing you for your body, you're an incredibly astonishing person outside of that. but he knows how people think, and he's more sorry than anything else that you were victim to that thinking.

"i know you don't think that remmy, you're one of the best guys i know." you kiss the wrist of the hand that's back to working at the base of your neck.

"really?" he stubs out the blunt as he looks down at you, pulling the blanket higher up your hips as he sinks lower into the sofa.

"yes really, i know you wouldn't act like they did. i know you respect me."

remus smiles a bright smile even for him. both corners of his lips pull up even if only a touch.

"of course i do, you're the best person i know too dovey." he kisses your forehead before laying his head back against the sofa.

"do you think we'd date remus?" you ask after a couple beats of silence.

his breath hitches and he hopes you don't feel it. "maybe i'm waiting till i get a reservation to take you out," you twist in his lap, sitting up quickly. the movement causes your skirt to bunch up and remus brushes it down flat as you lean into him.

it causes remus to lean back, back pressed into the sofa as you hover over him. "you're going to take me out somewhere fancy?"

he laughs then, soft and low but it still sounds happy and like remus. "i can't take a pretty girl like you just anywhere, can i? gotta show you off, dovey." he pulls you over him completely, letting you lay on him. the blanket covers you both soon after.

"you're nicer than you let people think remmy," you rub your face into the his chest, nose breathing in his pine and mint scent that's fogged up with a little smoke.

"get some sleep, i think your memory is murky." you laugh softly in his chest, especially when remus pinches your hip. it's different being with remus, he's earnest in everything he does concerning you and it feels good- to be acknowledged in the way that he acknowledges you.

#remuslupin #remus lupin #dealer!remus #dealer!remus lupin #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fic #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x black!reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x yn

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rainylana · 1 year

Text

“Treat me rough, baby.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: you and eddie fuck at hellfire:)

warnings: language, smut, blowjob, dirty talk, sexual use of sir, decrophylia, rough sex, sex in the drama room, unprotected sex.

a/n: this is my first full fic i’ve done in awhile! it’s not super long like my others, but it’s a start! it’s also what was most voted for in the tally so i hope it’s up to par:)

“I should be working, baby,” His hands squeezed the backs of your thighs, his lips warm and flush against yours. “Guy’s will be here soon.” Another kiss. “Be’ pissed if I’m not ready.” Another. “Gotta work.” And another.

Your relationship with Eddie was new, exciting. You were at the stage were everything was fresh. You couldn’t spend enough time together. You were always hot for his touch. Your belly was always in knots and you fantasized about him all the live long day.

“I know.” You relaxed into his touch, sinking into his lips with tiny nips. His back leaned against the drama hellfire table, arms around your waist as you disgustingly kitten licked each other. “But don’t you like kissing me better?” You smiled up at him, blowing his curl.

“God, yes.” You stood between his parted legs as he answered. “But, i’ll never hear the end of it.” His eyes were a deep brown, like chocolate. You wanted to eat them. “Just one more and then I gotta get back to work, okay?”

You pouted, but he quickly shut you up with a full kiss, his hand going to the back of your head. His tongue licked your teeth and pushed your own with his, breath hot against your cupid’s bow. Your pussy throbbed when he pulled away.

He looked so damn handsome in that chair, legs spread and strong hands writing away at a fantastic script for their campaign. He was so creative. You watched him with a finger at your lip, thinking of the way he defiled you. You wanted to taste him, and you couldn’t wait. Without him noticing, you walked to the other end of the table and crawled underneath, walking on all fours up until you got to his feet. He jumped you palmed his cock.

“What the-” He gasped, his chair being pushed back so you had room to kneel in front of him. “Y/n, what are you doing?!”

“What’s it look like?” You smirked, raising up to unbutton his jeans. “I’m gonna suck you off. Have a problem with it?”

His face flushed red, but he smirked cockily and leaned back into his seat. “Treat me rough, baby.”

You laughed and sunk down to kiss the tip of his cock that was now free, holding the base gently. You licked along the sides, making him gasp. His hands gripped the arms of the chair, closing his eyes as he shamelessly bucked his hips to your mouth. “Open those lips, sweetheart,” He huffed, opening his eyes. “Wanna feel that warm mouth.”

You did as he said and took him in your mouth, breathing through your nose as you took him fully. He moaned when he hit the back of your throat, and then he whimpered, dear god, he whimpered. It made you throb so bad you almost wanted to cry for him. Your noises of slobber and gags made him breath heavily, his hips bucking up and down as the tip of your nose grazed his throbbing cock. The curls of his hair bounced as he jerked his head up and down.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna fucking cum,” He panted, no whimpered. “Fuck, fuck, get up.”

“What?” You pulled off of him.

“Wanna come inside you.” He stood abruptly, stepping out of his pants and boxers. “Turn around.”

You blushed at the demand and turned, gasping when he pushed you down on the table. You mewled when he lifted your sun dress, pulling down your panties. “Be a good girl and make those pretty noises for me, yeah?” He aligned his cock with your wet slick and you closed your eyes in ecstasy.

“Yes, sir.” You spit out the title with little warning.

He bottomed out with the first thrust, your torso squeaking loudly against the table with your skin dragging against it. “Fuck, I think I like that.” He moaned as you choked on your breath.

He gripped your hips and guided his cock in and out of your hole, his curls ghosting over your back as you were shoved up and down in a quick motion. “God, oh god, fuck,” Your eyes filled with tears and you let out a sob.

“That’s it.” He nodded, landing a hard smack on your ass that made your shriek. “Cry on my fuckin’ dick you little girl.”

He grunted oh so loudly above you, his noises making you clench around his slick length. You weren’t going to last much longer and neither was he. He felt his balls tighten and he pressed his chest against your back, pressing you against the table fully. “Call me sir.” He husked, his cheek against yours.

The weight of his hips punished yours in a bruising, painful way that irritated your skin, but the pain always brought you pleasure. You cried heavily, face twisted in euphoric pleasure.

“Fuck uh- fuck me harder, sir!” You begged. “Please, sir! Fuck..god, Eddie, god, I’m so close, please, oh my god!”

He picked up the pace maliciously and you both sang through moans and groans, and when you started clenching over his cock, he couldn’t keep up his dominance. He whimpered as he shot his load into your cunt. “Fuck, fuck , oh fuck-” His voice shook.

Tears dripped down your cheeks and you sniffled through your orgasm, shaking like a fallen leaf. You hyperventilated in his arms, collapsing your dead weight on the table, legs going slack. When he caught his breath, you felt his nose nudge your neck. “I didn’t kill you did I?” He chuckled breathlessly. “Check in with me, babe.”

You moaned back. “M’ dead.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #lana’s shit post

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untoldstar · 3 months

Text

male yandere king x fem! witch reader x male yandere personal secretary Introductory fic

warnings: no yandere shenanigans here so no warnings really BUT this is an introductory fic the yandere themes will appear in later parts.

You’re roughly shoved forward by the two guards that chained you and dragged you all the way here in front of The Kings throne.

King Reid.

“This is her?” You keep your eyes averted refusing to look at him in fear you might not hold back your glare and have your eyes gouged out for that. You’ve heard bone chilling stories of how ruthless he can be and you aren’t about to test the truth behind those stories yourself “Yes sir.” A gruff voice sounds beside you “And you’re completely sure it’s her?” He asks his tone pressing “Positively.” You look up to see that he’s already staring at you intensely, his body stiff with anticipation "Hm..,very well then." The corner of his mouth lifts slightly and a glint appears in his eyes. He nods his head to your wrists and in the blink of an eyes the rope is cut off your wrists. You groan as you rub your red wrists, at least he didn't keep you tied up. He suddenly turns his head to the guards "Everyone out at once!" The guards hurry to sweep the room of everyone and following suite shutting the door after them, as the echo of the large wooden door slowly dissipates it dawns on you that you're completely alone now. At his mercy.

He doesn't say anything only rises from his chair and makes his way to a nearby table pouring a drink which you assume is wine based off the crimson color you caught a glimpse of "Care to join me?" You only shake your head when he glances at you "Suit yourself." He grins. Just what is he doing? You've been dragged here like some sack of potatoes, wrists bound, questions ignored, not an explanation spared and yet he's leisurely enjoying a glass of wine?

"I've heard much about you." He plops down on his seat with a sigh. You stay quite simply watching his movements "The infamous witch.." He swirls the liquid in his cups as he stares at you almost spacing out. You quirk a brow. Infamous? Since when? "You might not realize it but you've caused quite the stir." He hums raising the glass to his lips " I hear people have been desperately crawling to your doorstep to give them a glimpse of the future that awaits them, pleas to make them rich overnight, many people willing to pay you a fortune just so their unrequited love can be returned. What is it that you do, potions?" You internally roll your eyes, of course he'd assume that "Spells." You answer keeping your voice even "Ah of course, my apologies, that was quite the childish assumption." Your tense shoulders relax a little you see he wasn't mocking. He's actually embarrassed if his averted gaze is anything to go by "That's alright..it's a common misconception." You try to comfort "Is it really?" You nod "You'd be surprised to know some of the people who come to me also think that." He hums "Is that so? very well then." He seems pleased to see you talking more and letting your guard down even if only a little "Well anyhow, I'm sure you're wondering why you're here" He sets his glass aside and shifts in his seat "I've been..watching you and I think you could be of great help to me and my kingdom." You cross your arms "What would a king want with a witch?" He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped infront of him "I do admit it's not..usual for a king to seek out a witch but that's precisely why I'm doing this. I believe that with you're help this kingdom can flourish" His eyes gleam and you understand why. You can already think of many ways that could be accomplished but what exactly are his plans? "How exactly would that be achieved?" He seems relieved you're not immediately against the idea "Well, in so many ways of course. You would provide me a level of protection my own guards can't give me, you can help me persuade allies, keep away enemies and false allies who seek the fall of my kingdom." You're face shows no emotions as he rambles on passionately, his ideas aren't bad but you don't want to stroke a kings already inflated ego "We can do so much together.." He suddenly rises up and walks towards you "Don't you think so?" He whispers, his body so close to you, eyes pleading and you're almost in disbelief at how a king is the one persuading you and looking at you with such pleading eyes. "Yes that could all work..But why would I do this? Forgive me your majesty but..what exactly are you offering me?" He smirks, thankfully not seeming to be offended by your question. His prideful demeanor returning once again "Why, everything, my dear. You will live here with me in the castle, your room will be right by my quarters, anything you ask shall be granted, I'll personally make sure of it. It will be a completely new way of living. All will be yours as long as you say yes." You don't give an answer. Nothing is stopping you, you live alone, up till now work has been your focus and this..is work. But is he truly to be trusted?

"..I-" You flinch when he suddenly places his hands on your shoulders rubbing them, he must have sensed your tension "Why don't you take a tour of the castle and think very carefully of my offer? perhaps that could help you arrive to a judgment" Your stomach clenches when his eyes darken and his tone turns warning "You'll find that taking me up on my very generous offer will turn out to be in your favor." Something is defiantly wrong with him but perhaps it's best to be polite and go along with the tour for now at least. You slowly nod "Alright.." He beams "Excellent!" He turns around and rings a bell that's by his throne and Immediately you hear the large wooden doors behind you open. You look behind you to see a man enter, the distance between you doesn't allow you to discern his features fully or any other details except for his raven colored hair and the fact that he's close to your age if not the same if his voice and build is any indication. He bows his head "You called me, your majesty." You feel Reid place his hand on your lower back "Yes." He turns to you smiling "That's Marcus, he's my personal secretary, he'll be the one to accompany you on the tour." You knit your brows "It won't be you?" He lets out a low chuckle "No, my dear, I'm afraid I have a few pressing matter I must take care of but I'm quite flattered you were hoping to spend more time in my company." He ends in a teasing tone. Ugh, anything you say will be taken as flattery with him won't it?"

"Alright enough of that now, Marcus can take it from here. I shall see you after the tour." He nods at you, his smile a little strained now, he truly does hope you will come to the decision of staying afterwards. It would really be disappointing if you don't, your room is ready and your closet is filled with clothes designed specifically for you, he doesn't want his preparations to go to waste.

He also doesn't want to take certain measures into making you stay.

#yandere oc #yandere blog #yandere x reader #obsessive yandere #yandere #fem reader #yandere king x reader x personal secretary #yandere king x reader #yandere Reid #yandere Marcus #yandere introductory fic #fem witch reader #I low key hate this but let’s go

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nhlclover · 8 months

Text

hits different | luke hughes

summary: after breaking up with luke, you realize that he wasn’t just another boy.

request: yes / no

warnings: drinking, throwing up, cursing, sad girl behaviour

a/n: based on hits different by taylor swift. i have a deeply concerning attachment to this song. also why did this take literally a full week to write???

word count: 1.2k

The smooth tequila rolls right down your throat as you slam the shot glass back on the bar top. You recognize that you’ve hit your limit when the alcohol didn’t even burn when going down.

You were a mess. Everyday following your breakup with Luke, you’d been a mess. He’d made a mess of you.

You’d tried to wash your hands of him, going to a bar every other night, but not even the strongest spirits could rid you of his. He seemed to haunt you, with bits of your relationship coming back every time you were out.

“Why does every bar play this damn song?” You groan, dropping your head to the sticky wood.

The sound of French Montana fills the room. Unforgettable initially started as a joke between you and Luke, as it was a song that tended to play in every space the two of you went together. On the radio during drives and in restaurants on date nights.

Eventually, it became your guys' song. Anytime you heard the song, you thought of your boyfriend ex-boyfriend.

“Y/n, love is a lie.” Yasmina said.

You’d heard those words countless times over the past couple of weeks. It was something of a mantra you and your friends lived by.

“I know, I know! I’ve always been able to move on so easily.” You say. “But with him… with Luke it just… hits different.”

You drop your head back to the table, feeling the tears well in your eyes. The tears seemed to come anytime you were reminded of Luke, which was proven to be often. The last few weeks had been hell for you, reeling from a love you never intended to have.

“Y/n please don’t tell me you’re crying again?” Tasha groaned.

“I just…” You heaved. “Miss him.”

A hand rubs across your back, offering sympathy and comfort. “I need another shot.” You declare.

Your friends shoot each other concerned looks but you’ve already flagged down the bartender and ordered another shot of tequila.

The new alcohol that enters your system leads to more rambling about Luke.

“They say that if it’s right, you know, right? If breaking up with Luke was the right thing, I’d know. In my soul.” You mumble. “But it feels so fucking wrong!!”

Your friends let you babble on for a few more minutes before Yasmina decides your night is done. She takes care of your tab while Tasha calls for a cab. She guides you out of the front doors and onto the sidewalk, keeping your stumbling frame steady.

Suddenly your mind is filled with images of Luke, holding another girl in his arms. You pictured him loving another girl the way he loved you; gently, but fearless enough that he’d fight you when you were being stubborn.

You’re not sure if it is the thought of Luke with other girls or simply the copious amount of alcohol you’d consumed so far, but the contents of your stomach spill out and onto the street.

Tasha holds back your hair, another wave of nausea coming over you. You wipe your mouth, straightening up. Your friend gazes at you, a look of pity painted on her face.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You pout.

She sighs. “It’ll get better, hon.” She says. You slump down to the sidewalk, setting yourself on the curb.

You prayed she was right.

Tasha says a silent thank you as the cab pulls up in front of you guys. “Okay missy, go home and sleep this off, okay?”

She guides you into the back of the cab, setting you down on the seat.

“I miss Luke.” You slur. The door slams shut beside you and the driver pulls away from the curb.

The drive back to your apartment was filled with silent tears. You’d ruined yet another evening with your grieving. It probably wasn’t long till they stopped inviting you to the bars, your sadness being too contagious for them.

The cab pulls up outside your apartment. You stumble out of the cab and up the stairs inside. You haphazardly toss your keys to the counter, teetering to the bedroom.

Your bedroom reflected the way you felt. Messy. Clothes were thrown around the floor, your bedding remaining unfolded and rather in a clump on the mattress. Luke’s hoodie was on the corner of the bed. It no longer felt like his hoodie, but rather yours. He’d given it to you early on, before you were even dating. His smell was long gone from it, now replaced with your perfume.

The little pieces of Luke you refused to throw away or give back were scattered around your messy room. Everywhere you looked in your room you were reminded of him.

The hat you knew sat on the top shelf in your closet was like a beacon, calling your name. You opened the closet door, seeing it sitting atop the box that contained mementos from your relationship. The God awful Yankees hat that Luke always wore taunted you. It reminded you of all the little things in your relationship.

You grabbed the box, taking it to your bed and carefully peeling the lid off as if something was going to jump out at you. Right at the top was a photo of you and Luke, still in his game day equipment from his first game as a part of the New Jersey Devils.

Underneath are a series of birthday cards, photos, and various ticket stubs from Devils games that you’d attended. With each artifact you pull out, the tears intensify until your vision is reduced to a blurry mess.

Mentally, you cursed the space that you asked Luke for. There was a lot of uncertainty in your life, with having recently graduated and needing to find a full time job in your chosen field. You felt overwhelmed and confused, leading to you having doubt in your relationship. Luke tried to convince you to stay, but you didn’t listen.

You asked for space and he listened. You hadn’t seen him in just over a month and it has been the hardest month you’d ever been through.

You couldn’t understand why you were still hurting. It wasn’t like you to still be caught up on something you ended.

The sudden sound of keys jingling in the door pulled you out of your daze. There was only one other person who had a copy of your keys. The door clicks open and shut, the sound of shoes shuffling through the apartment. Your bedroom door creaks open, Luke’s head popping in the doorway.

He takes in your sad sight, you with tear filled eyes, bundled up in blankets with mementos of your relationship scattered around the sheets.

He wastes no time in joining your side, curling up next to you. You slide right into your arms like they were built to hold you. The tears don’t stop, if anything they fall harder now that Luke was holding you.

It takes you a minute to calm down, finally speaking after a couple of minutes. “I was wrong.” You croak. “I was so so wrong, Luke.”

He shushes you, placing a soft kiss to your forehead. You look up to him, his hair inviting you to run your hands through it like you once did. His eyes look back into yours, carrying pity undoubtedly for you and the state he left you in.

You chuckle looking away and peeling yourself from his arms. “I’m such a mess.” You say.

Luke reaches back for you, pulling you back in. “Shut up, you're beautiful.” He says.

You slot in between his legs, his arms finding their natural spot.

“You still melt my world, dream girl.” He whispers.

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #new jersey devils #nhl #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine

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forlorn-crows · 3 months

Note

Crow my love will you pretty please tell me all about how Rain fucks Swiss' mouth the night Swiss kneels for him on stage? <3

i cant stop thinking about it. swiss was made to kneel for rain, i think. made to let rain tower over him and fuck his face 'til he's dazed and bleary-eyed. but he's gotta be smug about it too, right?

in a crazy turn of events, rain is cis for once. i know, i can't believe it either. crow writing rain with dick and balls? unheard of. and yet, here we are. mainly bc i am unwell about the idea of rain having a knot.

anyway. woe facefucking w/tiny mention of oral knotting be upon ye. this ones also for @askingforthesun >:)

EDIT: now w/a companion art piece by the wonderful @floating-goblin-art❤️

“Just like that,” Rain groans, pulling Swiss closer by the hair until his nose nudges the little nest of curls at the base of his cock. “Yeah, take it all.”

Swiss hums around him, sending a shiver up his spine. Still smirking despite a mouthful of cock and water ghoul slick coating his throat.

It’s unfair, really. But it turns Rain on like no other. Confidence and desire cutting him deep through that hazel-eyed gaze. Swiss’ throat milking him for all he’s got while he grabs at Rain’s perky ass. And the noises. Lucifer, the noises he makes, all of them rumbling through his core. Straight-up sinful.

Rain loves every minute that Swiss spends kneeling for him.

“Bet you hmpf wanted to do this on stage. Get my cock out for all those people. Show them how feral you can really be, huh?” Swiss’ eyes flutter when Rain grips his locs tighter, but he holds steady. Humming an affirmative and muffled uh huh while tonguing along the underside of his length. Pushing his lips flush to his groin and swallowing hard.

Rain swears and tosses his head back, knees going a little weak. “Lucifer, your mouth . . .”

Swiss pulls off with a pop, wiping the drool from his chin and stroking him with a coy look. Fangs out and far too handsome for his own good.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, you dirty voyeur.” He gives a lick to Rain’s dripping tip, flat over the slit like he’s tasting a popsicle. And again, squeezing from base to tip so milky-white pre dribbles onto his tongue. Rain’s eyes roll back against his will, tingling right down to his toes at the sight of his own slick pooling in Swiss’ mouth.

The multi ghoul swallows, licking his lips. “You’re so easy, rainbow,” he chides. “Get’cha wobbly over a few strokes.”

“Shut up,” Rain bites back. But it's a token protest, given how his fingers start loosening their grip on Swiss’ locs the longer he pumps his fist.

He snorts. “You like my dirty mouth,” he says, pitching his voice lower on purpose so Rain’s stomach will swoop. “Just as good talking as it is taking, isn’t it?”

He shakes his head, biting back a groan. He regains the grip on his hair and takes a step forward, caging in Swiss’ body between and under his legs, looming over him just enough that he has to put a hand behind him for balance. Rain’s tail snaps behind him, eyes darkening as he brings his gaze back down. Cool and calculating. Swiss challenges it, of course, grinning as he strokes his cock over the long column of his throat.

“Put it back in,” the water ghoul hisses. Control seeping back into his voice, that commanding tone Swiss loves so much. Rain bats his hand away and replaces it with his own, cupping the multi’s chin with the other. Digging his thumb into the side of his jaw until he relents, opening wide and letting his tongue loll out. Ready and waiting to be fed.

“That’s better,” he lilts. “And you say I’m easy.” Rain doesn’t give him space to reply, immediately rubbing the dusky lilac head of his cock over the flat of his tongue, letting his taste buds push the foreskin back and forth a little before sinking back in.

Swiss gags like he does every time his cock pushes past the back of his throat, muscles trying to force Rain out despite the eager way he takes him down. But he likes the tension, the resistance. Leans into it as he thrusts all the way down to the base with a satisfied sigh.

Rain looks down his nose at him. Cocking his head when Swiss makes the smallest of noises. “Do you want me to really use you, pretty boy?” he asks, voice sharp and equally as saccharine. “Make you take it until you can’t anymore?”

The multi ghoul’s eyebrows dart up in the middle as a visible wave of arousal runs down his spine. A puff of air rushing out of his nose and color rising to his cheeks. He’s weak for this, and Rain knows it—abuses the fact, really, when it’s time to get his way.

Swiss is a big ghoul, though; he can take it, masochist that he is. So he hums a sound that means yes, nodding as much as he can with Rain holding his face steady.

He knows Swiss is hard in his pants without even looking.

“Good,” he purrs, brushing a stray tear off of his cheek. A bit of softness before he starts thrusting in earnest, aiming to fuck his throat raw. Get his balls slapping against his chin and coated in Swiss’ desperate drool. Inch by wet inch, over and over until Swiss really gives in.

When Rain’s knot inevitably swells some time later, he tells him, reedy, wounded, and oh so desperate, to take it. Not fucking stopping. That’s it—squeeze it. Can’t stop. Lucifer, take it, you have to—all of it, Swiss, all of it.

#mmm rulti #ask #miasma #ficlet #the band ghost #ghost fanfic #the band ghost fanfic #rulti #swiss ghoul #rain ghoul #swiss/rain #rain/swiss #rain x swiss #swiss x rain #swiss army ghoul

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libraryofgage · 3 months

Text

Life in Miniature (One)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedediah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One (you're here!)

There will be more Jedtavius in the next parts I promise, I just thought this would be a funner introduction to the AU lmao

I just love those little guy dudes from the museum so much hfjdks and now we get two pairs of them

Also, fun fact, I took Steve's Roman name from, like, an actual king of Rome. The actual sixth king. He seemed like a chill dude.

Anyway, there's a meme at the end and as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

---------

When Robin took this job as a night guard, she didn't think the previous guard's words about history coming to life at night was, you know, real. She thought it was a joke, a predictable and corny joke, but a joke nonetheless.

But now, after being chased by a T-Rex, getting saved by Theodore Roosevelt, and almost being taken captive by fucking Attila the Hun, Robin thinks this job definitely isn't worth $16.50 an hour. Then again, this is the best paying job she's had in a while, and she was living a nocturnal life anyway.

Robin groans, leaning against a wall in the diorama exhibit, and slides down to the floor. She lets her head fall back against the wall, her eyes slipping shut as she slides. "This is crazy. This is insane. I need to find a fucking weapon or something," she mutters.

"Pardon me," comes a voice close to her head, "but might you be the goddess Diana?"

As pick-up lines go, it's not the worst one she's heard. And, based on what she knows of Greek and Roman deities, it wouldn't be too far off. Still, she does not want to be hit on by whatever weird historical thing is trying to flirt with her.

Robin takes a deep breath, opens her eyes, and says, "Do I look like a goddess to you?"

She looks to her left where the voice came from, blinking when her gaze falls on a figurine that would barely reach her ankle. He's dressed in a toga with a chest plate, wrist guards, a sword on his waist, and a deep purple cape over his shoulders. His hair is, honestly, the most impressive thing Robin has ever seen, made only more impressive by the golden laurels resting perfectly against his temples.

He's looking at her with wide eyes, more awed than anything else. "Yes," he says. "I have heard the gods are larger than life."

Okay. Fair.

"Why Diana, man?" Robin asks.

He tilts his head, studying her for a moment, looking her up and down. "You give me the same feeling as statues of Noble Diana with her Huntresses," he explains, pausing for a moment before adding, "A feeling of kinship, perhaps?"

Oh. This...this is like ancient Roman gaydar, right? Robin snorts and turns, resting her elbow on her knee. "I'm definitely not Diana. My name is Robin. I'm the new night guard."

His eyes brighten some, his smile growing wider and certainly charming enough to make the hearts of a few girls and guys flutter. "I am Servius Tullius, Sixth King of Rome, son of Vulcan, weapons master of the gods, and adopted son of Jedediah, Cowboy King of the Wild West, and Octavius, general of the Roman army."

Robin nods, letting all of the those words process in her head before saying, "Mind if I call you Steve? You look like a Steve."

The Sixth King of Rome blinks, looking slightly confused before his eyes light up with understanding. "Ah! A nickname! Yes, I am familiar with this concept. You may call me Steve, Lady Robin, as a show of our newfound friendship."

"Yeah, don't call me Lady Robin. Just Robin is fine," she says, hesitating before offering her hand to Steve.

"As you wish, Just Robin," he says, stepping carefully onto her hand and remaining steady as she raises him higher.

Robin blinks, frowning slightly and about to correct him again when she sees his smile and realizes it's a joke. "Okay, very funny, dingus," she says, carefully poking his side.

"Is dingus another nickname? It sounds like an insult."

"It usually is, but it's affectionate when I say it."

"Oh! Yes, like when Ockie calls Jed a philistine."

"Uh, sure," Robin says, nodding once as she lets Steve move to stand on her shoulder. He quickly sits, holding onto the collar of her jacket as she carefully stands up. "Hey, you know what I'm supposed to do about the dinosaur bones?"

"Rexy? Yes, he enjoys a game of fetch."

"Fetch. Of course."

----------

"What's going on in that head of yours, little man?"

Steve blinks, looks over at Jedediah, and raises an eyebrow at him. "I'm taller than you," he says, gesturing to the good inch he has on Jedediah.

"As long as you're my son, you're a little man."

Doing his best to not laugh, Steve nods once and points to the new diorama set up in the middle of the room. It's a circular diorama, centered on an equally circular stage divided into sections. A cacophony of noise echoes from it, clashing as each slice of the stage fights for dominance. "I'm trying to figure out what in Jupiter's name they're doing over there," he says.

"Well, most of it sounds like music," Jedediah says, "I think."

"It's not any music I've heard before," Octavius says, coming to a stop next to Jedediah and frowning at the diorama. "I would have assumed it the unholy shrieking of the damned."

"Perhaps it would be nicer if they weren't all playing at once," Steve suggests, hands on his hips as he tilts his head.

"Oh, boy, there it is," Jedediah says, his grin audible in his tone. "He's got the King Face."

"What are your intentions, my boy?" Octavius asks.

Before Steve can answer, Robin strolls into the room, grinning when she sees the raving diorama in the middle. She walks over to Steve, Jedediah, and Octavius, crouches down, and says, "Hey, guys. I see you're checking out the History of Rock display."

"History of Rock?" Steve asks.

"What in the sweet hell do rocks have to do with that mess?" Jedediah asks, gesturing to the noisy stage.

Robin rolls her eyes. "No, like, rock music. It's a genre. Anyway, it was sponsored by some musician, so it's a permanent display now."

"And they will be...playing every night?" Octavius asks.

"Probably."

Steve frowns a little more and nods, rolling his shoulders back. "If they are a permanent fixture in our hallowed hall, they must be welcomed. As Sixth King of Rome, this duty falls upon my shoulders. Fathers, I shall return shortly."

"Woah, woah, hold your horses there, little man," Jedediah says, moving to stand in front of Steve. "You're not going anywhere near that snake pit without some back up."

"A few centurions, at least," Octavius agrees.

"I will have Robin. What better protection is there?"

Jedediah and Octavius glance at each other before looking at Robin. She grins and offers them a two finger salute. "I'll guard him with my life," she says, "It's literally my job."

With that reassurance, Jedediah and Octavius move out of the way. Steve steps onto Robin's hand and settles on her shoulder with practiced ease, ignoring the nervous flutter in his stomach at greeting the new museum residents. He hopes they'll get along, but he also knows the might of his Roman army and the railroad workers can crush any who stand in their way.

Robin stops next to the diorama, tilting her head as she studies it. This close, Steve can see the bands playing on each slice of stage, the instruments and fashion shifting as his gaze travels around it. "Uh, excuse me," Robin says, raising her voice.

The raucous noise from the diorama screeches to a halt, the feedback making Robin and Steve grimace slightly. "Uh, hi. We're the official welcome crew for the Hall of Miniatures here. So, I'll need someone to represent your, like, whole display," Robin says, glancing over the bands until she finds one she recognizes. "Okay, I know you guys, so I'll be designating you the spokesband. Now, could the lead singer step forward?"

Steve watches as someone on the "Corroded Coffin" (what an odd name for a band) slice of the stage steps forward. Robin offers her hand to them, carefully lifting it away once they step on. "Great, uh, carry on, I guess. But, like, maybe play some of your quieter stuff for a bit," she says, her words barely out before the music starts up and the crowds start screaming once more.

She sighs and just walks over to the bench, letting off the person on her hand before letting Steve slide down her arm in a move they spent nearly three weeks practicing if only because they knew it would look cool.

When he hops onto the bench, Steve walks up to the other miniature, a man his age with long hair and odd clothes with tears that Robin once said were fashionable. His instrument is still slung over his shoulders, resting casually against his hips much like Steve's sword. Steve suddenly finds himself thinking that the man looks a little like a warrior. An odd one, to be sure, but a handsome one nonetheless.

He flashes his most charming smile, lets his shoulders relax, and says, "My friend here is Robin, Guardian of Brooklyn. I am Servius Tullius, Sixth King of Rome, son of Vulcan, weapons master of the gods, and adopted son of Jedediah, Cowboy King of the Wild West, and Octavius, general of the Roman army. You, however, may call me Steve."

-----

As far as Eddie was concerned, nothing mattered so long as Corroded Coffin got to keep rocking in an endless concert. The energy never waned, the set list never grew boring, and the music never stopped. He was ready to inform this welcoming crew of just that and promise Hell on Earth if they tried to disrupt the music (angry concert goers are a force of nature), when the words just died in his throat.

Because the most gorgeous man he's ever seen slides down that giant lady's arm, easily and smoothly landing on the bench. Somehow, his hair is perfectly windswept, the golden laurels glinting in the lights above them. His purple cape flutters softly as he walks closer, his toned thighs on full display with the toga hem that falls to the middle of them. There's a sword on the guy's hip, a chest plate that Eddie wants to pull off, a smile he wants to taste, and a pair of freckles right next to each other on the guy's cheek he wants to drag his tongue across.

He misses most of the introduction because he's too busy staring. He gets the important bits, though: Robin, a king, son of a god, adopted son of two dads. Eddie licks his lips nervously, a grin of his own tugging at his lips as he steps forward and playfully bows. "It's an honor to meet you, Your Majesty," he says.

It's supposed to come out joking, a little poke at the guy's authority to see if he can be riled up. It actually comes out way too genuine, and Eddie has a sudden realization that he meant it. He absolutely will accept this guy as his king, actually. He'll fall to his knees before him right now if asked, and not just because it might give him a little peek under the dude's toga.

"Please, just call me Steve. There's no need to be so formal."

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, hoping Steve doesn't realize that the things Eddie is thinking about (the things he wants to do to and with Steve) are just about the least formal things on this earth. "Good to know," he says, relieved his voice sounds normal as he stands up straight and offers his hand. "Name's Eddie Munson, uh, lead singer of Corroded Coffin."

Steve blinks, and his smile becomes a bit more genuine as he steps closer and clasps Eddie's forearm. "A fellow leader," he says, squeezing Eddie's arm. "Welcome to our museum."

"Y-yeah," Eddie says, his arm still tingling when Steve lets go. He clears his throat, idly tugging on a few strands of hair. "So, uh, what's the deal around here? I mean, giant women...Roman kings...cowboys, it looks like."

"Our noble museum is home to Pharoah Ahkmenrah and his tablet, which brings the exhibits to life each night," Steve explains.

"There's a few rules, though," Robin says, sitting down on the bench behind Steve. "One, no getting into fights. Two, be back in your display by sunrise. Three, no leaving the museum at night."

"What? Why not?"

"We have lost good exhibits to Sol Invictus's morning rays," Steve says, frowning slightly. "So, be careful."

Eddie stares at Steve with wide eyes as he nods, amazed at the fact that Steve seems to talk like that so genuinely. And the fact that Eddie is...kinda into it. Holy shit, that's not helping with Eddie's whole "fall to his knees" thing. He wouldn't mind some good old-fashioned worship if Steve would just smile at him again.

Maybe his prayers are heard, because Steve smiles at him again. "Wonderful," he says. "Now, Eddie, could I interest you in a tour of the museum tonight?"

"Oh, you could interest me in a lot of things, sweetheart," Eddie blurts out, his mouth running faster than his brain.

He snaps his jaw shut, relieved and horrified at Steve's slightly confused expression and Robin's "I know what you are" thousand-yard stare from over his shoulder. Before he can try to backtrack, Steve snaps, understanding in his eyes. "Ah! Sweetheart is a nickname, yes? I accept your offer of friendship."

Eddie clenches his jaw, stopping himself from saying that it's more than friendships he's offering, and smiles. "Yeah. A nickname. That's all. I'm just...a nickname kinda guy. I'll probably think of more, too, Stevie. Like that."

Steve practically beams, and Eddie feels his knees go weak. "I look forward to it," he says, turning on his heel to look at Robin, who thankfully schools her expression. "Robin, this is where we leave you for the night. You have my word that Eddie will be back in place before sunrise."

"Well, you two kids have fun," she says, grinning in a way that immediately puts Eddie on edge. "I'd better not hear about any funny business, though. Absolutely no bases should be reached tonight, and you'd better not do any conquering or pillaging."

She definitely looks at Eddie when she says that last bit. Eddie stiffens, doing his best to hold back a blush when Steve glances over at his, the confusion clear on his face. "Conquering requires more planning than this, Robin. I've told you before."

"Don't worry about it, dingus. Just have fun. Here, I'll even call a ride for you," she says, winking at them before turning, holding her fingers to her mouth, and whistling sharply.

Steve walks over to Eddie right as the ground starts to shake, easily catching him around the waist before he can lose his balance. "The shaking does take some getting used to," he says, his tone full of sympathy and obliviousness to the crisis Eddie is experiencing.

When his brain finally catches up enough to ask what he's talking about, a dinosaur skeleton slides into the room, its body wiggling excitedly as it growls. Eddie jerks back, the arm around his waist tightening some. "What the fuck?!" he shouts.

"Worry not," Steve says, leaning closer. His voice is a little softer now, his breath fanning over Eddie's ear. "This is Rexy, our steed for the evening. He's very friendly."

"Friendly," Eddie mumbles, letting himself be dragged over to Rexy and placed on the dinosaur's head by Robin. "The dinosaur is friendly."

"Many of the exhibits are," Steve tells him, grinning brightly as Rexy begins moving after a pet on the snout from Robin.

Eddie looks at him, feeling blinded by Steve's smile once more, and completely forgets about the living dinosaur skeleton.

--------

Lemme know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

(Also I know there are like one or two upcoming parent AUs that people have asked to be tagged in and I tried to see if this was one of them but couldn't find anyone for the life of me hfjdks so I'm sorry if you asked on another post and I missed you orz)

And, finally, a meme for you

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #Mini Steddie #the tag for this series #steve deserves good parents actually #night at the museum #natm crossover #natm jedediah #natm octavius #jedtavius #the worship kink was a surprise to me too actually #and then i realized it was v on brand #have fun guys #there ought to be shenanigans aplenty

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k2ntoss · 2 months

Text

YO QUISIERA - JASON TODD

tw ⭒ jason todd x fem!reader, john constantine's sidekick!reader, swearing, jealousy and that's it, this is mostly fluff with best friend jason based on guess what??? ANOTHER SONG, yo quisiera by reik

a/n ⭒ do you have an idea of how of a sucker i am for jay????? this is just, i need this please show some love. reblogs and comments are appreciated and each one gets you a kiss on your forehead and a warm hug and yeah, i mentioned mbv because it has jensen ackles and he's my man <3

have you ever heard about not being able to decide who you love? well, jason has heard enough of that bullshit and he was sick of it.

it all started the day bruce brought back with him the man that the bat-kids could consider their weird uncle, john constantine and he showed up with a girl that was about jason's age. she walked swaying her hips a little too much and wore a smirk on her lips that made him a mix between upset and fascinated, there was also that white button-up shirt with the black trousers which made her look like a mini-me of the obnoxious sorcerer if only she wore also a trenchcoat and a red tie.

his first claim, after your first meeting, was that he didn't liked you "she speaks like she has all the right in the world" he said, voice gruffy and body a little too tense when dick asked him what he thought about you "she thinks she's funny but she's fucking annoying" and that makes dick chuckle.

"i think she's funny and smart, maybe you should try and spend some more time with y/n" dick tells him with a shrug before he leaves jason with his thoughts. there was no way on earth he'll get along with you.

but thruth be told, you were a little more giddy and nice that anyone could ever say constantine was and that made jason a bit less avoidant when it came to the times you were around the batcave and let's say that he just happened to get used to you, that's how he finds a new friend that he never thought would really understand him but he was mistaken.

since all of this it's been two years, it took jason a while to open himself up to you while you were maybe a bit of an oversharer but jason enjoys listening to your rambles, it's been so easy for him to accept you into his space in a way that's been noticeable to everyone around, not that they say anything because there are things that need to happen.

but what makes everyone tease him when they notice is how he seems to turn into a giddy kid whenever you're close, there's always a nice aura around you both but there are times he would be walking behind you like an overexcited puppy, following you from a corner to another because he needs to know what you need even if it's just a hug.

for dick that's just so funny, because he does remembers how annoying jason said you were and now he barely accepts going on patrol with anyone but you as his partner "thought you said y/n was annoying, you spend too much time with her for someone who you can't stand" he starts as soon as he steps next to jason and it causes him to grunt.

"she's annoying but she's my friend" jason says, shrugging it off before walking away to start his shift with dick as his partner "and what if i spend too much time with her? that's what friends do" the way he gets all defensive amuses dick and makes him giggle.

"sure thing, birdie boy" the nickname earns him a death stare from jason because that's just one of the ways you call him and if jason has to be honest he loves it but only when it comes from you "friends are running behind their friends like a lost puppy and looking at their friend like they hung the moon and the stars on the night sky"

"shut your mouth, grayson, she's my friend"

and yes, you're best friends but that doesn't mean he's not dealing with a big crush on you and he tries hard to hide it. maybe it works with you because you've never been wise enough with those things but there are things you can't hide from a family of damn detectives and the way he looked at you, how he spoke about you and the big amount of time he spent with you, yeah even bruce was aware.

jason had to deal with their knowing looks, the not so subtle glances they gave him as soon as you stood next to him because he was afraid that you could notice and that his feelings could ruin your friendship. it was sad having you so close yet not being able to do anything about it, he could hold his love if it meant you would be by his side even if he would have to see you around anyone else.

he wanted to be the one for you; he wanted to be reason of your nerves and smiles, he wanted to be the guy who would keep you awake until late just to talk a little bit more so then you could wake up feeling so eager to see him. jason wanted to be the guy you loved the most.

but instead he was your best friend, a shoulder to cry on and the first person you would always ask for advice before a date, which was the situation today. three days before valentine's day.

"and how am i supposed to know if he really likes me? i mean, he's nice but that can't be all" you start once you sit by his side, looking at jason with a small frown and your tone sounds so frustrated he sighs.

the question itself makes his breath catch because if he's not careful he could be giving himself away, letting you know how he feels about you and that is something he can't let happen.

"how am i supposed to know? i don't even know the guy" he replies with a low scoff, but truth be told he knows who the guy is and he also knows that he isn't worthy for you and it had been proven when he cancelled your date "but if he cancelled your date he might not be really interested"

"jay, i'm being serious! it's there something wrong with me?" you sink a little into the couch, arms crossed and a small pool of tears now forming on your eyes "why can't i have one single chance? why isn't there a single guy that really likes me?"

the only thing left for him on these situations is to lean in and drap one of his arms around your shoulder and he does, pulling you closer so you can cuddle yourself up into his side while he kisses the top of your head and bites his tongue so he holds back his words.

"life is pretty shitty, isn't it? i'm pretty sure the right person will show up eventually" he says softly, jason caresses your side while he coos you and there's a second when he swears he has a chance because you look up at him in a way that sends his stomach to do backflips.

he feels so damn jealous, you've been telling him about your dates and the guys that you hang out with and he wishes it was him instead. that he could be able to call you his, to kiss you and hold you, call you his girlfriend and have you all for him. he knows that's not even possible, he knows he can't indulge himself such a pleasure.

"i wish all guys were half as nice as you are, jaybirdie" your words are enough to make his face go as red as his helmet but he just pushes his feelings away again.

she's just being nice, you stupid asshole he tells himself as a dry chuckle leaves his chest mixed with an annoyed grunt "you don't want a guy like me, sweetheart, i'm sure as hell" he says in a whisper that you seem to ignore and he knows that it's better that way.

"now... i have no valentine's date so" he listens to your words and there's a voice on his head that tells him that this is his opportunity to get you a nice gift, to win you over but that's only possible on his dreams "would you be my valentine?" you asks, eyes still teary but there's a small smile on your lips and he wants to scream yes, he's about to answer when cass comes into the room.

funny enough to tell that cass is the only one of his sibblings that really knows from the source that jason is into you and they've both tried to find out if you have feelings for him and you do, cass knows and she has told him but he refuses to believe it. life isn't that good for him.

"ew, no" he says, his hand nudding your head lightly and he misses the quick glint of sadness on your eyes but cass doesn't and she coughs while giving jason a knowing look as soon as his eyes meet hers "why would i date my loser best friend for valentine's?"

rejection hurts and even when it felt like you were asking him as your second option thruth was that you've been scared enough to make any move. because this was special enough for you to want to be the one to actually court him, making him feel wanted and needed because he was important for you way beyond the friendship.

"yeah, no" you nod as you sit straight, clearing your throat to get rid of the knot that was starting to mess your voice up "it would be really lame, sorry. you must have plans already just for me to ruin them"

the sudden change on your attitude weirds jason out and it also scares him, did he messed up? yeah, he did he manages to think with the glare he receives from cass. sitting straight too, reaching her arm again to pull her back into his embrace.

"i hate valentine's, you know i have no plans at all" he says softly, trying to get you to look at him "but i can make an exception for you, what were you thinking for us to do?" jason asks, leaning in to kiss your temple.

"i was thinking we could watch a movie, you know..." you start, maybe a little less excited that he would wanted you to be and he nods with a small smile, his mind running with possible ideas until he remembers one of those movies with one of your favorite actors.

"my bloody valentine?" jason suggests, looking at you with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on his lips that made your heart jump. this was exactly the kind of things jason never gave himself credit for, he may not be perfect but even with every flaw he could possibly have he was there, trying to be better for those who deserved to be loved.

it was set, you left after a few minutes of discussion on what to bring to your valentine's movie night. as soon as you were gone cass came up to him and the way she stood right in front with her hands on her hips made him guess what she was about to say.

"i know i almost fucked up" jason starts, hands on his face as he grunts "but i just- how do you expect me to believe she really likes me?" he asks on the edge of losing it.

"jason, she's being so transparent about it" cass says, she sounds tired and maybe she is, this isn't the first time she's said this to her little brother "you're not the only one that's chasing after her all the time, she's also doing the same and you're just too hard headed to accept it"

those words play on his head on repeat until the time you're out of his room, hands holding a couple of bags with food and also a small gift you brought him. it doesn't matter how the night ends, you wanted to give him something special. jason opens the door of his room, a big and warm smile as he sees your face and his heartbeat grows faster.

he lets you into his dorm, letting you sit on his bed with your back leaned against the headboard and he drops to the matress, his head resting on your lap while you play the movie and everything is nice, you both laugh at the cranky 3D effects that are just so weird on a common screen, he teases you whenever tom hanniger appears on the screen and chuckles when you giggle.

he eats a little distracted, feeling so at ease when your fingers brush through his hair and he stops watching the movie to look up at you, all the happiness he felt being replaced by a wave of doubt, he wanted to accept the idea of you liking him back but his mind was always ready to mess it up.

jason isn't aware of the low grunt he lets out, sound that brings you to pause the movie to look down at him with a worried expression because you wouldn't want him to be wasting his time on something he didn't wanted to do. he feels your gaze on him, eyes fixed on his face and he turns to watch the screen.

"what's going on, red?" the nickname slips, it isn't so often you call him like that but right now it just seemed fair when his cheeks blush a little "is there something wrong?" and the soft voice you use makes jason want to cry.

if only you knew how bad he wanted to tell you, he was dying to let you know how much he wanted to kiss you and have you all for him.

"if i tell you something you promise me we will continue to be friends?" jason asks, it slipped and he wants to tell you to forget it but he knows it's too late when you tilt your head before nodding "i just... is it weird if i told you i wish i was the reason you wake up all giddy? is it bad if i told you i wanted to be the guy you cry over? that you really felt something else for me? i'm just dying to tell you so many things but i'm afraid you don't feel the same, i'm afraid to tell you i want you to be in love with me and lose you, that the only way to see you then is on my dreams"

with each word he says your cheeks burn a little more, your heart is about to burst when he stops speaking. jason is looking at you, waiting for a response and he grows anxious when you don't speak right away, he shifts about to stand up when you stop him.

"who says you're not already the guy i've cried for?" your voice is soft and he can't bring himself to believe his ears "i mean... i can believe you don't think about it but how couldn't i? when i told you i wished any other guy was like you i meant it... i thought you didn't felt anything else for me"

you want to keep talking, keep on telling him everything you've felt for him but your words are hushed by his lips on your.

jason is kissing your lips, his touch so tender on your face while his hands cup your face like you could break or vanish at any second. the movie was still paused and who could care about a hot masked killer when jason was reciprocating your feelings?

"do you mean it?" his voice is low, almost a whisper as he speaks after breaking the kiss without putting much distance between your faces, lips still brushing as he looks into your eyes.

"i mean it, red" and your words, mixed with that cute giggle of yours made his heart melt "i like you. i love you" you whisper with your eyes closed and jason feels like he's in heaven.

"i love you too, sweetheart"

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