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v33n4-c4rn1s · 20 days ago

Text

"Promise."

Remy LeBeau x fem!reader

A/n: This is my first proper fanfic! it's over 2000 words lolol and it's just Angst/Comfort with everyone's favorite Cajun! I'm really proud of this and I'm happy Remy gets to be my very first proper fic..i hope you enjoy!! also tag for because they asked so nicely :3 @kaidan-z

Summary: When wade wilson dragged you into the mess you were miserable, mourning and utterly heartbroken but now, after following Wilson and Howlett around for hours, watching them fight you finally get your end of the deal. Seeing a man you thought you'd never see again.

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Maybe it’s the fact this was all so..confusing.

I mean how are you supposed to feel when you come face to face with a ghost?

Well, not really. A ghost would still remember, clutching time in its weary hands, allowing freedom and the soft embrace of closure. A ghost would know. Instead you’re both faced with the haunting idea of a lost memory. Something to yearn and claw for, barely scratching the surface of remembrance. A flame of longing and desperation that’s snuffed out by the force of time.

- - - - - - -

You were forced into this mess, against your own will really. One minute you’re sitting in your own misery, clutching a pen and paper, biting back inevitable tears. You mourned the loss of a man who had been long gone, Remy Lebeau. Your Remy. God he was the brightest star, the sweetest man with a sharp tongue. You loved him. You loved him more than anything. The best part? He loved you. Of all the wonderful people in the world, he wanted you, always you. Only you. So that's why it hurt so much when he met his end.

That's why it tore a hole in your heart. He was tied to you, so deeply rooted in your soul that nothing could pull him away, no gentle persuasion could remove him. Only brute force, A harsh tug that tore him away and left you burning. Painful rage that was so blinding that people cowered away. So in this moment..you just needed solace.

But the universe didn’t give you that, instead You're hauled over some guy's shoulder who's blabbering about how “relieved” he is to see you.

So..what the fuck?

You later learn that you're stranded in a trio, a pathetic one at most. A merc with a mouth, Anger issues in a little yellow bundle (he comes with claws too.) and of course...you.

To most, you weren’t anything special. A mutant? Yes. Despite that being heavy enough itself, your mutation wasn’t anything flashy, just simple enough to cope with.

So why the hell did this bloodstained bastard take you of all people?

- - - - - - -

So here you are now, stalking behind the pair you now know as Logan Howlett and..Wade Wilborn?..no, Wilson. That's it. Wade Wilson. He was the reason you were here. The void. That’s what this place was..a void. An endless layout of trash and gunk. The TVA, who you later learned “preserved the Sacred Timeline and prevented the creation of alternate timelines.”

Turns out Wade’s universe was fucked because it lost its “anchor being.” Which was his universe's version of the grouchy companion he’d brought with him..or well, forced with him. Paradox, the one responsible (sorta) for Wade's wonderful kidnapping plan did not seem too pleased..especially since wade had to be that tiny bit extra and break his nose. So he sent you all here..the void.

Wade seemed to be a bit too friendly in all the wrong aspects..seriously how many sex jokes are too many? He’s sweet, you’ll give him that. You found that out only after he attempted to use you as a human shield against some bald headed bitch that only existed to grind on your nerves..But hey, that Johnny guy definitely got it worse.

- - - - - - -

The two overgrown children further proved their hatred to each other by fighting all their tension out in a shitty honda odyssey..all night. They fought till the sun went down. You just sorta sat there, lazily trying to wipe the nose bleed you had received after Wade shoved you to the ground in order to reach a “precious angel.”

..A dog. She was cute but you didn’t take too kindly to him picking a slobbering dog over your mental stability. Still, now all you really had to do was sit and wait for the two to finish their very loud and sharp disagreements.

- - - - - - -

So..now you’re all caught up? Good. Then let me jump back to our present time.

He could have been a ghost, hell he might as well have been considering how much he paled when he saw you. The way the cards in his hands fluttered to a gentle stop. Even when wielding his weapons he was a gentleman. His lips parted..He wanted to say something, anything..but words could not find him. He just starred.

To say you felt sick was an understatement. You felt like your body was about to give up any second. Overcome with the heaviest wave of nausea you’ve ever experienced. Here he was..a dead man. Standing in front of your very eyes..and he was beautiful. A little different..but beautiful. From the hair to the tip of his boots, he was the most gorgeously sculpted man you have ever seen.

“Chere?..”

“Remy?”

Oh fuck. You’re kidding right? So this..version of him had a version of you too? He knew you? He knew you and without even knowing what had happened to his version of you, just looking at his face you knew that something so unforgettable had happened that he was just as broken as you.

“Ooh shit!! Are you seeing this!? I gotta say..i expected all the flashy entrances but look at these two lost loves? Ugh it's like I'm drawing in their self deprecating..”

Remy gave a half glance at the merc, scowling immediadently. His eyes set on him for just a split second before the glare was gone and he was back to looking at you. A softness creeping into his gaze that you didn’t think you’d see ever again. His brows furrowed as he took a step closer.

He knew it wasn’t his lost love but still. From the tips of your hair to the flush in your cheeks, the tentative grasp of your fingers against the fabric of your suit, the way your eyes brimmed with uncertain tears..it didn’t matter. He could rebuild. As selfish as that sounded he could rebuild it all if you’d let him.

“it..it ain’t you but-”

He tried to speak, he really did but the way you flinched at the sound of his voice made him want to cower like a small child. Your eyes fell onto the set of cards in his hand that he soon tucked away into the pocket of his coat. The gentle rustle of the fabric brought you snapping back to the present, a sharp gasp slipping from your lips as you carefully backed away, allowing Wade to take the lead again.

- - - - - - -

He watched you the whole time. He didn’t pay attention at all to whatever the hell the nuisance in the centre babbled on about. He watched you like a hawk. Eyes tracing over every piece of you. The way you bit down on the plush of your lip or how your lashes seemed to dampen everytime you blinked. He took note of the unsteady rhythm of your chest. He knew all the signs. When his eyes flicked back up to your face, he saw a tiny tear, barely visible but he could see it. It slipped down your cheek, resting on the curve of your jaw before it dropped onto the floor, seeping into the wood.

Remy had known you all his time in the void. He had no grasp on anything other than this wasteland and well..you. For a brief moment, he let himself daydream, just resting in the past, in the familiar sight of the sweetest smile he had ever seen. Yours.

- - - - - - -

“Don’t you think this is an awful idea?”

“Nonsense Chere, you think Remy doesn’t know a fine place when he sees one?”

His lips curled into a smile as he watched you glance at the rundown diner. It wasn’t exactly heaven, he knew that..but that didn’t matter, as cheesy as it sounds everywhere was heaven when he was with you. You laughed at the way he struggled to open a cabinet, the way he tugged at the wooden handle.

“Careful remy..it looks unsteady..maybe you should-”

“No need to worry about me Mon amour, what? You think Remy can’t handle a little push and pull? Dis is nothing, you just sit there and look- merde!!-”

It swung open, nearly taking him out in the process. You burst into fits of laughter, your knees buckling under how hard your laughter had hit you.

- - - - - - -

And that..bittersweet memory was the very thing that kept him pushing. Your laughter was the sweetest thing to him, he adored it more than anything and he’d longed to hear it once more.

He glanced over at you again, seriously he couldn’t stop. How could he? It was like looking into the past, the love of his life was a few steps away from him and he was doing nothing? What was wrong with him?

He couldn’t stand the silence anymore, the tension. He watched as you looked at his hands that were now nervously playing with his card deck. He carefully placed them all in one hand before pointing at you. He saw the way you jumped a little at being addressed. He then pointed to himself before pointing to the exit.

He wanted you alone, He wanted to talk.

Despite the ache in your chest, the tremble in your body, you followed him. You followed him out the arch and into the cool near evening. The sun was beginning to set, it casted the warmest glow over the wasteland. It was the prettiest thing about the whole dump.

The two of you walked in silence for a bit. The only sound filling the air were the gentle crunches of twigs beneath Remy’s shoes. It suddenly hit you. You were here, with an exact copy of your former lover. This was so fucked up.

He led you to a smaller campfire, letting you take a seat on the log before lighting the fire, sitting down with a soft grunt.

“Remy know’s dis is a bit..confusing and he’s damn sorry about it but..he’s gotta know, cher..”

His soft honesty brought warm butterflies to your stomach. The words rolled off his tongue, combed by his heavy accent. His knee bounced nervously as he watched your face, biting his lip slightly.

“It's..complicated, it would take a long time to even-”

“Remy’s got all the time in the world Chere, just talk t’him..”

You glanced at him one last time. He looked like a kicked puppy when you denied him. How the hell could you say no to such hopeful eyes?

And so you told him, you told him everything. The love, the loss, the pain. The way his absence had left a gaping wound on your being, leaving the ugliest scar and a hideous rage, a burning hatred. You spilled it all and it felt good. It felt good to finally just talk. You were so into explaining it all that you didn’t even notice the fact you were in floods of tears, droples streaking down your cheeks. Your breathing shortened as you forced more words out of your throat. You were too engrossed in the pain.

“Chere.”

His firm tone cut you off, he reached up, carefully swiping a tear away with the pad of his finger. It sent a range of sparks up your spine and you quivered under his gaze.

He watched you for just a moment before making up his mind. He knew he was overstepping the imaginary boundaries but he knew his Chere well enough to know what she needed. One arm wrapped around your waist and the other slid up to your shoulder, bringing you into a warm embrace. He was so different yet the exact same. He smelt like whiskey and leather. He smelt like home and it made you feel sick.

“Ma pauvre fille..”

He was so comfortable that he didn’t even realise the words that left his mouth, the soft claim he made..but you did. You heard it and it stung, it healed a tiny part of your wounded soul, to be addressed as his once more. You squeezed his shoulder, letting the last few tears fall. He pulled back, hesitantly cupping your cheek, relaxing a little as you leaned into his touch. This felt right, despite the gnaw of pain it felt right. To be here with him, to feel him.

Remy lifted his hand, capturing your smaller ones with a gentle touch. He pressed his lips to the back of it. A kiss, full of tender love and sweet affection. A rush of blood reached both of your cheeks. The cool air gently brushed against the heated skin. He leaned forward pressing another kiss to your forehead this time, letting his own rest against yours as he brought one of your hand to his chestplate, placing it above his heart.

“It’s yours Chere, mon coeur est à toi.”

You knew what he meant, he had promised you that despite all odds, if ever something went wrong, he would find you. He’d find you in every universe.

And he did.

Remy Lebeau was many things. He’d been branded as a scoundrel all his life..but if there was one thing he couldn’t do, it was lie to you. He was an honest man who kept his promises to you.

He fulfilled each one. Including this one.

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#void gambit #xmen gambit #gambit #gambit x reader #remy lebeau xmen #remy lebeau x reader #remy lebeau #xmen #x men #x men 97 #x men comics #x men movies

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feelmyskinonyourskin · 8 months ago

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Worship You

Pairing: Frank Castle x AFAB Reader

Main Masterlist

GIF Source: Papa-Evershed @papa-evershed

Summary: You’re feeling a little nervous and insecure about your postpartum body, Frank just wants to show you how much he loves you.

Warnings: SMUT/18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio). Mentions of pregnancy, birth, and postpartum AFAB body. New mom insecurities and fears. Lactation kink, oral (F receiving), fingering, protected P in V, use of lube. Pet names (baby, sweetheart, mama)

WC: 2600

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

Four and a half months, that’s how long it had been since you’d given birth to the precious angel that was your daughter. It was the best day of your life and changed so many things so quickly.

Particularly, your body. You were so proud of it; growing and carrying a life for 9 months, enduring 14 hours of labor and delivery, producing daily nutrition to feed this tiny human you loved so dearly. You lamented all the times in your youth when you would pick and pull at your skin, over analyzing the ways your body could “improve” and wishing to abide more by the over photoshopped standards you saw in magazines. How foolish you were.

Now you loved your body. She was a warrior. A Goddess.

But still, even with your new found appreciation for her, it was difficult some days to not feel like a stranger in your own skin. You knew pregnancy and birth would bring about irreversible changes to your body. But nothing could have prepared you for the emotional wave of grief and confusion that came with all the new feelings and quirks that come with life after pregnancy.

Which was probably why you had been avoiding having sex.

Sure sex had been uncomfortable towards the end of your pregnancy, you and Frank inventing the most insane positions just to find a comfortable way to do it. Your body had already changed so much then, but even more so now. Would he still love you like he used to? Would the things you used to enjoy still feel good? Would there be any pain?

You’d been cleared at your 8 week postpartum appointment to move forward with all sexual activity, but still had put it off.

Frank, of course, never pushed the issue. In fact he never brought it up at all, too tired and busy doting on your daughter and making sure your recovery went smoothly. Daily, you got to witness the strength and determination he showed to welcome this second chance despite the demons of his past. He was the epitome of a perfect father and partner, which only turned you on and made you love him even more.

“Ithinkweshouldhavesextonight” you finally blurted out one morning, need for intimate connection and relief outweighing the anxiety.

Frank had just gotten your daughter down for a nap and was at the kitchen sink washing out your pumping equipment.

He turned around so casually to face you and leaned against the counter, as if you had just asked him what the weather was. God, did he have to look so sexy when he was just existing?

He looked you up and down and with an eyebrow corked replied softly “Yeah? That somethin’ you’re ready for?”

You were still reeling from the shock of actually saying it out loud and stuttered out “I… I think so.”

Frank nodded calmly.

“Okay.”

And then he was back to his task without another word.

He didn’t bring it up for the rest of the day, going through the evening routine of dinner, diaper changes, and bathtime with your daughter as he normally would.

Meanwhile, your nerves were on edge, half with anxiety, half with anticipation.

The last feeding of the night was done and your daughter drifted to sleep in your arms as you rocked her. You gingerly set her down in her bassinet, careful not to wake her and have to start the whole routine again.

It was typical to find Frank leaning in the door frame of the nursery, happily observing the site of his family. So you weren’t surprised when you turned around and found him standing there with a grin plastered across his face.

“Hey beautiful.”

“Hey big guy.”

“You still feeling up to…” he asked

“Yeah,” You nodded. “C’mon let's go to the bedroom.”

You reached for his hand, but he pulled it away.

“I got somethin’ for you first.”

The bathtub was to the brim with bubbles. Based on the aroma in the air, you could tell it was the good kind you liked to buy at cute little boutiques in Brooklyn and not the Johnson and Johnson brand you used for your daughter’s baths.

Frank pressed his chest to your back and placed a gentle kiss to your crown.

“Gotta get you relaxed first.”

Docile fingers danced under the hem of the shirt you wore; a dingy, grey henley that once belonged to him, as he slowly began to undress you.

You silently cursed at yourself for not putting on something sexier earlier. Not that any of your old lingerie fit you, but anything more put together than this would have been better.

“Where’s that brain of yours goin’ now?”

Goddamnit how could he read you so well?

“Just wishing I put a little more effort in to seducing you.”

“Eh, you know you don’t need nothin’ fancy to do that.”

The kisses he peppered to your now exposed shoulder sent a shiver up your spine as he continued.

“My woman’s so goddamn pretty, it’s been torture keeping my hands to myself.”

Frank’s plan worked wonders as you found yourself emerging from a half-hour in the scented warm water feeling relaxed and floaty.

He was waiting for you in the bedroom, wearing nothing but clean grey sweatpants that rode low to tease and tantalize you. Good to know he still remembered just what you liked.

He eyed you up and down as you walked towards him, closing the gap between you and pulling you flush to him.

A gentle hand ran down your cheek as you lovingly gazed into each other's eyes.

“Okay, here’s how this is gonna go,” he said “I’m gonna go nice and slow,”

You let out a huff, which caused Frank’s eyebrows shoot up.

“And you’re not gonna whine about it.”

“Fine.” you conceded

“If at any point, anything hurts or makes you uncomfortable, even a little, you tell me and we stop. You got that?”

You nodded your head gently, leaning into the hand he still had resting where your jaw and neck meet.

“Atta girl.”

His lips were soft when they met yours, gentle but not hesitant. He took care to guide you backwards and sit you down on the bed gingerly.

It always fascinated you how hands that inflicted so much violence and death could show you such tenderness and love, could provide so much pleasure. Even moreso now seeing how docile he was with your newborn.

The tie of your robe undid easily and the soft fabric fell off your shoulders and pooled in your lap, exposing you to him.

His eyes were full of reverence as he once again stared at you, admiring with a boyish grin before he dove in and covered your skin in the sweetest of kisses. Each meeting of his lips to your shoulders, your neck, your chest was the rising sun of spring, reigniting your body from hibernation.

His nimble fingers gently grabbed at your breast as he continued tracing his lips across you, giving it a small squeeze before twirling your nipple under his thumb.

It was just enough stimulation to release a few small drips of milk, followed by a tiny stream.

You pushed at his shoulder to get him off and attempted to stop the liquid with a bit of your robe.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I thought about pumping before we got started, but I was hoping maybe she had enough before bed that it’d be alright.”

“It’s okay baby.” Frank practically whispered, swiping at the opaque fluid with his thumb.

“They sore?” he asked

“A little.”

“Can I help?”

You practically felt a flood rush between your legs at his request and nodded eagerly.

Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees before you. His breath was hot against your skin as he licked all the way up from your ribcage to your nipple, gathering the warm nectar on his tongue.

He hummed in satisfaction as he took your nipple fully into his mouth. The divine mix of building pleasure and sweet relief filled your body as he began to suckle, soft pouty lips encompassing your breast.

Big hands wrapped around your lower back, pressing indents into your skin with his calloused fingers as he held you close to him, his eyes now squeezed shut as he continued to nurse.

You threw your head back, groaning at the borderline overwhelm of feelings that ripped through your body.

Frank laid you down slowly, upper lips dragging along your skin as he released your breast and began to kiss down, allowing a spurt of milk to fly into the air.

As he moved down, your hands instinctively flew to cover the loose skin of your stomach, still laden with lighter stripes from where your daughter stretched your flesh as she grew in utero.

His thick fingers grabbed at your wrists to stop you.

“No.” he commanded and instinctually you groaned in rebuttal, trying to free your hands from his grip.

“Ain’t no hiding from me baby. C’mon.”

The low roughness of his voice always made you want to obey whatever he requested. You looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Look, I know you’re still gettin used to all of it, but you’re still my woman and I love you. Shit, you’re even more my woman now that you’ve had my kid. You think I ain’t gonna worship every bit of you? This beautiful body that gave me my daughter, that gave me a second chance I don’t deserve. You think I ain’t gonna love every inch of you just as much as before?”

You couldn’t help but grin at his praise and nodded, leaving your hands at your side and permitting him to continue his work.

Done with taking his time, but still a certain gingerness to his movements, he finally kissed his way to between your legs. You were practically squirming with need as he teased his hot breath against your core.

The sweet relief when he finally ran his tongue through your folds had you practically jumping off the mattress with how calico-like your back arched. You were sensitive, having had no stimulation there in months. You hadn’t even dared to touch yourself in any way that wasn’t medically related, afraid to even test the waters.

Once he was satisfied with the amount he slicked up your petals with his tongue, he went back to being slow and careful, experimenting with your limits by tickling your entrance with the tip of his finger.

Another nod from you and he pushed in just to the first knuckle, then the second. All you could do was whimper with the pleasure of finally feeling him again, bucking your hips to encourage him to go further.

He massaged your walls a little before adding a second finger and you were in heaven.

It was so familiar the way he worked you over with his fingers and mouth. More and more of your fears dissipated with every movement, the luminous pleasure building inside took them over.

Your orgasm crashed into you unexpectedly, taking not much at all to get you there. It made you feel normal and human and real again.

Tenderly, he kissed at your thighs as you worked to steady your breathing.

“How you feeling, sweetheart?”

Another nod. Usually it was Frank who was mostly silent and you doing all the talking. But not tonight.

“That good, huh?”

A giggle escaped you.

“Talk to me pretty girl, what you need now?”

“You Frank, wanna feel you inside me.”

“Okay. How? Gotta do whatever’s gonna be most comfortable for you.”

“I think I should be on top. Have the most control that way.”

“You got it.”

Frank rummaged around the nightstand and pulled out a condom and the bottle of lube. He shed his sweatpants and made his way back to you.

Spreading your legs, he applied a generous amount of lube, using his fingers to push it inside you a little. Satisfied with that preparation, he layed down beside you and put the condom on. You tossed your robe to the floor and crawled to him, maneuvering to hover over his length.

He held you in place with one strong hand and ran the back of his finger down your cheek with the other.

“Remember baby, anything hurts, we stop.”

You nodded, then reached down to guide him to your entrance.

It was a delicious stretch as you slowly sank down, relaxing away the last of your fears about pain. It felt good. It felt different. But it felt good.

The sigh of relief once he was fully seated inside you echoed around the room. You sat there for a moment, enjoying the pleasure. It felt like coming home after being away for too long.

You gave a rock of your hips, steady and easy, feeling the drag of his cock against your velvet walls.

Again. And again.

Until you found a comfortable rhythm and lost yourself to the pleasure.

Meanwhile, Frank’s hands continued to explore, reveling in the feel of your skin under his touch after missing it for so long. Observing the way pleasure twisted and contorted on your face as you rode him, he couldn’t take his gaze off of you.

Temptation won him over, he raised his hand to paw at your other breast. Just a few pinches to your tender nipple and the leak began.

Rising to his elbows, he once again took your breast in his mouth. The warmth of his soft lips latching and sucking sent a wave of goosebumps across your skin as you continued to thrust against him.

Carding your fingers through his cropped hair, you held his head to you, encouraging him to continue.

His fingers found the other breast, squeezing so the stream of milk began once more, flowing down the curve of your tit.

“Frank, I’m so close.” you said, punctuated by the slap of skin.

He moved to bury his face between your boobs and kissed your breast bone, husking out “That’s it baby, let me feel you. Atta girl”

Every dial in your body was cranked up to maximum capacity and it wasn’t long before you erupted, white hot pleasure coursing from head to toe as you rhythmically clenched around him.

You grabbed at his shoulders in an attempt to not fall over and he shushed at the whimpers you released with every spasm of your walls.

Frank wasn’t far behind, cradling your face as he pulled you to press your forehead to his.

A grunt escaped him as he thrusted up into you a final time. His gaze bore into yours as he released, attempting to say a million words he couldn’t form right now.

Cautiously, he tipped sideways and laid you down beside him on the bed, pulling you to lay on his glistening chest.

“You feeling good?”

“Yeah, Frank that was perfect.”

“Good baby, I’m glad we…”

But his words were cut off, the siren cry coming from down the hall stopped both of you in your tracks.

You moved to get up but Frank pushed at your shoulder.

“Shh shh shh I got her mama. You stay put.”

You closed your eyes as you listened to him coo her back to sleep from down the hall, content to live in this little bubble of joy forever.

For you @itwasthereaminuteago

#frank x reader #frank castle

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voxisdaddy · 7 months ago

Text

Rewritten

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

C/TW: Implied cheating/infidelity, depression

Type: Oneshot | Angst but bittersweet ending

In which even if you were meant to love Lucifer, despite everything’s that happened, you could still love another.

It was difficult existing sometimes.

You felt like you served no purpose. Like you failed the one thing you were meant to do. What was that one thing?

Betrothed to Lucifer—the favourite son of the Heavenly Father.

Things were so heavenly between the two of you at first. Lucifer, while not enthusiastic about being given a bride, quickly fell for you. And you? Well, you were made for him. Of course you loved him. Anyone who knew of you two, all agree that you two are a match made in heaven.

If only that lasted the eternity that was promised to you.

When the creation of Adam and Lilith came to be, your joyous attitude to this new wonder quickly started to sour. It only worsened when you eventually found out the truth. Lucifer didn’t love you anymore. Whatever he felt for you seemed to pale in comparison to what he felt for Lilith.

Then the creation of Eve came to be. Lucifer, ever the dreamer and occasional trouble maker, meddled in that too—carving an ugly mark into heavens plans which would lead to the banishment of Lucifer and his new bride.

You had spent many nights and days sobbing over the man. How could he love another? How could he promise to love you for eternity and lie? How could he sneak off and…never formally end things with you if he no longer loved you?

Your heart ached for centuries. He betrayed you. Angels…shouldn’t be capable of that. But he had it in him to do it anyways.

Naturally you’d find a weird sort of friendship with Adam. It wasn’t long until he came to Heaven as the first human soul when you became acquainted. You could see through him—his attitude that everything’s okay. You saw that same look in your own eyes every time you looked in a mirror. Just like you he was hurt. The two people who were meant to be his forever loves were taken from him. And his sons turned out…less than ideal.

As centuries and centuries went by, things became easier. Lucifer wasn’t on your mind all the time by a certain point. Eventually the only times you’d remember him would be if you happen to overhear someone sharing the story of Lucifer—Heaven’s most famous fallen angel.

You didn’t think you’d stay single and moping forever would you? Of course not. As heaven got more populated, the more charming faces came about, each with personalities of all kind at every corner. Heaven’s never felt more lively.

Eventually you’d meet someone who found a way into your heart—intentionally or not. You didn’t know you were even capable of loving again.

You hated it.

You hated that every moment you spent with your partner, a part of you ached. You hated that every time you gazed into their eyes, you couldn’t get fully lost in them. You hated how an ‘I love you’ felt like a betrayal.

You hated Lucifer.

Even if you could fall in love again a part of you yearned for Lucifer. How could you not feel it? You were quite literally made for him. You were made to love him. You didn’t have a choice on who you could and couldn’t love when you were created. Your heart and very being was created to love Lucifer for every eternity.

“I wish I wasn’t created sometimes, your highness.”

Sera tries her best to offer you a safe space to vent. A place to let you be upset, for you to mourn, cry, be angry, and sometimes laugh;

“—and despite my wings still healing from the noodle incident, they still took me on a cloud flying date, your highness! They held onto me and never let me go!”

Seeing you fall in love again is a favourite of Sera’s.

With that comes with it’s heavy weight of guilt and anguish due to who you were made for but…you’re proving the odds to become your own person.

Even when you meet Lucifers daughter, you can’t help but feel satisfied with yourself for how strong you feel like you’ve moved on. You thought you’d never forget a single detail of Lucifer but when seeing him again through his daughter? Well, you hardly recognized her.

A part of you will always long for Lucifer—a part of you you’ve grown to hate but learn to ignore—but at least now as you say your vows to someone who actually means every single word of love and promise, you know you can love again. And no matter how hard the strings tug, your love will never waver for your new life partner.

The new partner reader meets can be anyone really. I wanted to write something to join in on the “Lucifer leaving reader for Lilith” stories that pop up every now and then, but give it a more happy ending for reader

#hazbin hotel #x reader #Lucifer Morningstar #Lucifer Magne #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #angst #bittersweet #happy ending

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holybibly · 1 year ago

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Divine Rosa ❢ot8xreader❣

❣ Pairing: yandere!otx8 x reader

❣ Genre: Dark Romance, vampire au, angst, horror, yandere au, smut

❣ Word Count: 8.5k

❣ Summary: The moth always pours itself into the flame; what a pity that in the end it burns out. After the tragic death of her sister, MС tries to find answers to the questions she left behind. This leads her to a gated cottage town known for its luxurious rose gardens. In addition, there are also these mysterious men who manage all the affairs in the city. Too sweet, too helpful, too intrusive, and too in love.

❣ WARNING: only!18+ Themes of death, suicide, severe depression, stalking, blood, yandere behavior, panic attack. Sexual themes: hematolagnia, body worship, masturbation, bite kink, olfactophilia, voyeurism.

❣ Disclaimer: I don't support yandere behavior, stalking, or religious imposition. Themes include violence, obsession, possessiveness, and emotional or psychological manipulation. This book is intended solely for entertainment purposes.

❣Chapter 2: Wolf in sheep's clothing❣

Love is a word that deserves closer consideration, halfway between the dry hypocrisy of the dictionary and its deep sacral meaning.

What a strange feeling…

Love, both virtuous and vicious, motivates us to accomplish great feats yet also triggers the commission of heinous crimes. This mysterious and inexplicable feeling interweaves its complex structure within us, becoming the most unstable, contentious, and hazardous of all human emotions.

Love is the fundamental source of all our emotions and experiences in the world, both beautiful and disgusting.

Love has a multitude of motives, including the desire for control, submission, care, seduction, lust, protection, worship, creation and, of course, destruction.

The feeling is manifold; We can call this complex emotion by different names, including passion, hatred, obsession, alienation, objectification, mania, unattainable dreams, happiness, idolatry, spiritual unity, and possibly the most poetic of all—the second half of the soul.

Humans crave love from birth until death. This desire is inherent and everlasting. As we take our first breath, we unconsciously absorb the toxic essence of love, which settles in our lungs like delicate, silky flowers.

This need is woven into the very structure of our DNA, an animal instinct that inadvertently condemns us to eternal suffering.

Love exists as a palpable entity, often obscured by human perceptions of carefree happiness and joy. It can be likened to a lurking deep-sea creature, concealing its true visage, branching and moving under the thin surface of our skin.

She is as cunning as a murderer's grin, and she is well aware of the inevitable tragic end of every story she is about to tell. Though we may be in the belief that we have had a joyful life, in reality all our actions have been under the impulse of love. For the sake of this deceptive feeling, which unites us for a moment in the ecstatic joy and privileges of angelic ugliness.

In the end, our physical bodies will serve to feed the earthworms, to house the larvae and to nourish the roots.

Never again will they gaze into each other's eyes, never again will the turquoise flame passion between them ignite, and never again will their lips meet in a voluptuousness kiss.

Love has the power to drive us insane, to blind us, and even to lead to our demise.

And yet, in life, it is possible to miss everything but love.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

3rd POV

I want to fill my mouth with your name. I want to eat you whole. Pablo Neruda, Twenty Love Poems, and a Song of Despair

“You look pathetic, San. Don't you think so? I wonder what Seonghwa would say to that?” Yeosang lazily runs his pale spidery fingers over Yoru's silky black fur, looking with contempt at the naked brunette stretched on a pile of knocked-down sheets and pillows.

The rings on his hands burn with blood, like the eyes of the Devil.

San looked blissfully relaxed and languid, like a caressing predator. His golden skin seemed to glow from within with an otherworldly glow as the translucent sunlight greedily licked his body with its soft touch.

Still, there was something vaguely animalistic, almost primitively predatory, about him, which in no way connected him with the arrogant aloofness that was inherent in the entire vampire race.

There was hot blood running through his veins, making him even more dangerous.

He was unbridled.

“I don't care what Seonghwa says, if he says a word at all in the next few centuries. Personally, I would prefer that his magnificent body continue to rest in the coffin for a very long time.” A smug smile played on his sensual lips. “And unlike you, my dear brother, I don't hide my true desires.” A slow, almost lazy glance from San's silvery eyes swept over the slender body of Yeosang sitting in the chair, lingering for a moment on the pale pink patch of soft skin on his temple.

He imagines, not without pleasure, how, with particular cruelty, he tears it from the porcelain face of his beloved brother with his long claws, leaving behind a wet, gaping wound.

San hated it. His birthmark is indisputable proof of his connection with his beautiful Rose.

The sign that binds their souls tightly into a single whole.

He should have found her first that night.

“Look at you, Sangie. You act like a coward, hiding in dark corners and wandering in her dreams. Perhaps I could understand you if your wayward antics gave her pleasure. If our Rose woke up with your name on her lips, all wet and needy, so desperate for more.

You have to ignite her passion and her desire to be loved, make her feel special, and fill her with thirst and hunger for our touch and our love. All her thoughts should belong only to us. But how did we end Yeosangie? Tell me, huh? Our Rosa has an animal terror before you. Sarang is afraid of you. Isn't that really pathetic? You know, I can smell that sweet scent of fear on her sheets.” San buried his face in the soft fabric of the silk pillow on which Sarang usually slept and took a deep, slow breath. “So damn delicious… I want to eat her whole.”

All he wanted now was to feel her from the inside, so that her scent would stay forever in his lungs, merge with his blood, be absorbed into his skin, and become an integral part of it.

God, he is prepared to worship this woman and idolize her in every conceivable way.

She was his.

Not in some figurative or metaphorical sense, no. She was his everything. A soul that fills the shell with his dead body, blood black as night, that runs through his veins, his thoughts. Every second of his life. San couldn't tell where he ended, and she began, for you were two halves fused together into a single breathing living being.

The beginning and the end of his life

If he could know death, which was no longer possible for him, he would be happy to suffocate on that heady aroma that was spinning his head like a powerful drug. And to do so until death takes him into his arms.

How beautiful would his death be! Silk sheets, roses, and Sarang are the only true loves.

“She smells so divine, Sangie; how can you resist this temptation?” His back arched gracefully. Under the golden canvas of the skin, the jagged vertebral bones were outlined, and the flexible muscles were stretched like tight velvet ribbons. The relief of his chiseled abs pressing against the bed, his thighs rushing up, creating a perfect s-line.

He moved so smoothly. A large predatory cat, draining gross sexuality and animal dominance. A true erotic vision, fringed by the diffused glow of the lazy midday sun. The smell of her fear brought out the worst in him and made him crave to devour her heart and soul, but he couldn't do it.

“You don't know shit, San. You come here whenever you want and act like a cranky kid, pouting and expressing anger because you couldn't get her first. What a pity, because I was the one who made the connection. I can feel her; I can feel her in my veins; I don't have to act like a bitch in heat fucking her bed.” Yeosang's voice was indifferently cold, so deceptively calm, but San could clearly hear the poisonous malice in every word he said.

It looks like he hit a nerve.

“You tell me you'd never been in my place, Yeosangie?” San grinned, and on his cheeks appeared charming dimples. “You never could lie;you always spilled everything to Seonghwa like a good puppy at the first snap of his fingers. You should ask Wooyoung to teach you some lessons if you want to play games with me. We all know exactly what you do, so didn't be shy about it, honey. Do you think you can hide from Hongjoong your little dream manipulation, constant stalking, and night visits? Or how pathetic and pathetic you look, whining and wriggling like a whore when you come in with her dirty laundry, which you hide under your pillow. Oh my God, what will Seonghwa say when he finds out? You should care. Our good boy has gone to the dark side; he's going to be so disappointed that he lost his mutt. Although you know, maybe you and Wooyoung aren't as different as I originally thought. He's just as pathetic a puppy as you are, my beautiful brother, and look how that turned out for him. Perhaps you'll be the next one to end up in a coffin. I'd change my behavior if I were you. Bad boys get punished.” There was mockery and outright bullying in his voice.

That's right, they were family; their loyalty to each other was an unbreakable blood oath, and if necessary, they would be willing to die for each other. Blood is thicker than water. But the bond they shared with Sarang was different from anything that could be explained. She wasn't a missing part; to think so would be foolish. No, she was a part of themselves, a part of their dead souls, filling their bodies with a semblance of life. Something extremely more dangerous than any possible blood bond. A bond where the lines between reality and fantasy, obsession and morality, understanding and rationality were blurred. And that bond was the reason, why Wooyoung, Yunho, and Seonghwa were still resting in their luxurious coffins. Iron, velvet, and crystal—so completely different, so frighteningly the same.

San remembers with pleasure how good it felt to drive stakes into their black hearts. The spell would be broken with a kiss. Perfectly. He hopes their sleep will be eternal. This time, it should be different. He will be the first, yes. San will be first—not Seonghwa, not Hongjoong, not Wooyoung, but him.

That's right. Everything will be the way it should be from the beginning. After all, he was the one who started it all.

Once upon a time, Sarang belonged only to him.

“San…” Yeosang hissed menacingly, digging his bony fingers forcefully into the soft feline fur, causing Yoru to meow painfully and curl up into a ball in his lap. His fangs bared, scratching his plump lower lip, and black veins trickled in an intricate pattern down his thin neck.

The brunette laughed and rubbed his cheek against the soft fabric of the pillow, covering his eyes dreamily.

The silk felt wonderful against his bare skin.

“You hiss like a kitten; will you show me your sharp little teeth?”

“You'd better watch out for your tongue, or I might rip it out.” The fierce gaze literally stabbed him. It burned and penetrated to the core of his being.

“I dare you.” The bloodied lips opened, allowing the pointed tip of his tongue to traverse the tortured, swollen flesh, licking away the blood that seeped to the surface.

“Let his lips be like rose petals - red as fresh blood.” Said the Queen Witch.

San covered his eyes and completely ignored the angry brunette. He loved to play with fire. It was his nature. If it had been Hongjoon or Mingi in Yeosan's place, he might have thought twice before poking the tiger with a stick, and of course he would never intentionally offend Seonghwa; the outcome of any of those confrontations would not have been in his favor. But this was Yeosang - airy and gentle as melting snow.

The shadows of San's long eyelashes lay in a lacy pattern on his heart-wrenching cheekbones. They were one of the most striking features of his appearance - sharp and angular - and they made his face a masterpiece. A creation skilfully crafted by the hand of a master.

Yeosang's beauty was soft and angelic, the kind of beauty one might see on the faces of the winged, plump cherubs beneath the vaulted ceilings of Gothic cathedrals. He had once admired their beauty so much, especially when he tore their flesh with his claws and tore baby, fluffy wings from their pale, soft bodies.

Such an exquisite, decadent taste.

San's beauty was of a completely different kind: vicious, dark and hypnotic. Chiseled like the eternally frozen perfection of a pagan marble god, every line of his face was sharp and deadly seductive. From the feline cut of his eyes, shimmering with silvery immortality, to the capriciously curved corners of his plump lips, always inflamed and soft, so tortured and tender from incessant biting and kissing…

San's appearance was sinful.

He was the most desirable of all nightmares, the special kind that seduces the girls of the church, then fills his bathtub with their blood and organizes orgies in the bloody pieces of their torn bodies. San was formidable and intimidating, but his aura was alluring and seductive. The terrible prospect of an inevitable end and death had never looked so appealing. Maybe he was having an affair with you, or maybe he was going to kill you. There was lust, danger, and rage. There was a delicate balance between horror and desire, as if he were the embodiment of both the horror and the charm of God. He was the man everyone secretly dreams about when they caress themselves before going to bed, in a cold, lonely bed.

He was the person who made you feel uncomfortable in your own skin and who made you experience a shivering sensation of fear that would spread over all of your exposed areas.

San was undoubtedly that person. Despite the potential for his eyes to linger on your skin, his presence was desired. Exquisite wounds, reminiscent of blossoms from damaged tissue, were created by his razor-sharp canines.

Death and sex were not enough for San; he had a craving for disorder and hot sensations.

He always wanted more, whether it was blood or pleasure. He never felt satisfied.

His sole desire was Rose—just her alone.

“Do you smell that Sangie scent?” San inhaled deeply again that intoxicating divine scent, resisting the urge to savor her flavor like a dog, choking and whimpering. “Mmmm, I want her so badly. I want her whole, every fucking cell of her body. She's driving me crazy.”

Sarang emitted a scent that was distinctly sharp and overpowering in its fragrance. Reminiscent of aged wine, it was infused with the bitterness of dark chocolate, the piquancy of red pepper, and the sweetness of roses. It tastes like sin and blessing at the same time. Like a slight saltiness akin to the tears she had shed, he longed to lick them off her rounded, flushed cheeks. The fruity sweetness of illicit fruit. The taste of his own blood. The metal and thick aroma of their sexual encounter. Thick as semen and honey.

San wants to have her. Wants her to love him. He desires his love to be reciprocated as fervently and passionately as he does.

His only wish is her love.

Although it is not enough for him to possess her love, he wants her to have an intense and almost sadistic affection for him—one that goes beyond what seems possible. He yearns for her to destroy him. Because he's confident in Sarang's ability to do so. He needs more. More than she could offer him, more than she could ever agree to. He is but a slave, created to worship her.

San's aim is to belong to her; he would go to any extent, even to the point of destroying the entire world, if that is what it takes to achieve that. The value of her love is immeasurable, and his objective is absolute. She is the center of his life and the very essence of his being. She is the haunting presence in his dreams, a seductive force that both seduces and tortures. The midnight idol of his desire, the serpent that dwells around his heart, tempts him to sin.

San craves her love so much, and that need is so painful, so all-consuming, and so twisted. If need be, he would kill her with his own hands, just to be sure that no one else would ever have her.

Sharing her with his brothers was like hellfire burning him from the inside out, but it was a paltry sacrifice he could make in exchange for her love.

This time, he won't let her go. This time, not even death would dare separate them. Saran will be his. She will be theirs. In life. In death. Forever and ever.

Soon.

It will happen so soon. San can't wait for the day when his Goddess is beneath him, in the cage of his body, sprawled on the black velvet of his bed. With his fangs deep into her sweet flesh, and she will screaming his name in a haze of ecstatic pleasure.

He would make her see stars. San will take her all the way to the doors of Heaven.

“San,” “San,” “San,” “San” over and over, until her voice completely collapses to a painful wheeze, until he absorbs every tiny sound she makes, every moan, every breath, every barely perceptible note, until all she will remember is his name.

Until Sarang whispers right into his lips, “I am yours.”

Soon.

In the meantime, San can patiently wait. He will wait as he always has, obediently and without complaint. He will be such a good boy. San will wait obediently, as he has done for centuries and centuries before. Until the time is right to pursue his desires, he will take all that he has dreamt of, and God will save the souls of those who get in his way.

Right now, he thinks he could die here — in her bed, surrounded by the lingering warmth of her body and her maddening scent. He would like nothing more than to show her all his passion and devotion and all the love he could give her.

He dreams of running his lips over her skin and tasting her until his whole face is wet and glistening with her juices. He will fuck her into oblivion until night turns to day and then drown her in tenderness, worshiping her caress-weary body as an obedient slave should.

Sometimes, he thinks it's not normal—the feelings he has for her. Such love simply cannot exist. How can someone love someone so much? Is it normal to hate the very existence of nature and the heavenly bodies for being able to see her beauty, which should belong to him alone?

However, these were only momentary musings until he regained his composure, dispelling any doubts. How could he even question his love? It felt so perfect and effortless, like breathing. How could such thoughts even enter his mind?

Her love was a life worth living.

It was destined since the dawn of time, when spirits roamed the earth, the sun was young, and the old gods had not yet vanished. She belonged to them, and they belonged to her. They sensed her first breath on their lips. He felt.

Their love bloomed again—a blood rose.

Soon…

These fantasies drove him mad; every cell ignited with the desire to possess, awakening his animal predatory nature. The ugly nature of his genuinely depraved being.

He pictured Sarang biting into his neck and taking possession of him. She aimed at him as if he were nothing more than a thing, a toy for her amusement.

“Say my name, Sarang. Express your fondness for me and acknowledge that I am your only one. I want you to own me and claim me as yours. Say my name until it burns your lips. Again and again. Drink my blood, bite me to death; I'm nothing more than your slave, just a pathetic means of pleasure. Hit me. Hurt me, I beg you. I need it so badly. Please, my love, I am begging you to love me. Love… Love me so much until it kills me. That is what I wish for.”

His hips moved smoothly, grinding his arousal against the rumpled bedclothes. San moaned, breathlessly gasping as he found the perfect angle to satisfy his intense desire for release. He needs to cum; he couldn't leave here without cumming. He buried his face in the pillow, panting and whimpering like a wild animal possessed. His primal instincts demanded he leave his mark on her, to possess her and fuck her into oblivion until her belly bloated from the amount of cum pouring into her and her head felt light and empty.

His claws lengthened, digging into the mattress, leaving sickening jagged stripes as his hips moved uncontrollably, continuing to rub his throbbing wet cock against the silken folds of the crumpled sheets.

The sounds he made were almost heavenly.

Soft, extended moans that turned into pitiful sobs. He sounded like an angel in the throes of passion.

In his fantasies, San imagined drinking from her as long scarlet streams of her sweet blood ran down their naked bodies, staining everything red. How deeply he entered her body, seeing the imprint of his cock on her flat stomach as her neat, pointed nails plowed into his back into gaping lacerations.

His teeth clenched as he let out a hoarse moan, the sound vibrating deep in his throat. San needed to cum; he was on the verge of madness. The need for pleasure was more obvious than anything around him at the moment. The transparent essence of his arousal dripped down onto the sheets, sticking to his golden, wet skin with every movement of his muscled thighs.

His thoughts returned to the dark, vicious images of hot animal sex. A fine shiver ran down his entire body.

He will run his tongue along every contour of the intricate bloody lines, licking up every last drop. First, the longest neck-open and vulnerable to his insatiable mouth, then lower down the hollow between the heavy breasts, rising in time with her labored breathing. His lips would close around the hard pink nipples, scraping them with his teeth, making her squeal and gasp. Lower down her flat belly, where the flowers of his hungry kisses and hard touches bloomed. Until his tongue is between the moist puffy folds of her pussy, he runs the pointed tip along the soft silken flesh, plunging deeper into the tight hole where blood mingles with her natural sweetness. He wants to feel the velvety, wet walls of her vagina clench and quiver around his tongue.

“Sarang!” His voice was hoarse, and his hands gripped the sheets beneath him with such force that his knuckles turned white, almost tearing the skin.

He looked pornographic.

San was so lost in his fantasies that he had completely forgotten about Yeosang, who was still in this room, until he was reminded of it with a sharp, painful tug of his hair. Long, thin fingers gripped the dark, damp strands with force and tilted his head back rigidly, revealing a view of a strong neck with veins swollen from exertion and beads of sweat running down her

“Here we go, such a pathetic, stupid bitch.” Yeosang said it with mockery in his voice. His lips curled into a wicked smirk, and San could feel it on his skin as the brunet whispered in his ear. “Look at you, you're nothing more than a slut; where's your pride, San, eh? The great general of the dark army, the heartless ice prince, the ruthless Ripper, is nothing more than a drooling whore shamefully rubbing his cock against the sheets.” Yeosang's fingernails dug painfully into his scalp, tugging harder on the long silk strands the color of night.

“Yes, yes, keep calling me that.” His request sounded like a plea. All Yeosang's words made him move faster, almost in desperation.

The rhythm of his hips became erratic and uncontrollable. He was close. His teeth clenched as he let out a hoarse moan, the sound vibrating deep in his throat.

“Are you imagine fucking her, Sannie, hmm? Or what would it taste like? I bet the taste will be heavenly; she's sweeter than ever in this life. Oh no, I know exactly what you're thinking.” A mocking chuckle escaped his ruby-red lips. “You want her to bite you.” Those wicked lips pressed against the frantically beating pulse point. “Right here.” Yeosang's teeth sank with force into the flushed skin of San's neck—that particular sensitive spot on his neck beneath a scattering of pale freckles.

San's eyes rolled back in pleasure, his mouth opened in a silent moan, and his hips shook with the intensity of his orgasm. Thick, hot cum splattered onto the sheets, staining them with the pale, milky liquid.

The brunet unclenched his teeth, releasing the tender skin. The bite mark was wine-red, with swollen incisor impressions and drops of black blood in the hollows. A poisonous flower, tempting to know sin.

“Sannie, look at the mess you'd made. Truly a royal fuck. I always thought it was more Mingi's style.” Finally, thin but surprisingly strong fingers let go of the silken strands, allowing San to rest his face tiredly against the pillow. His whole body relaxes after the overwhelming orgasm. The entire pillow is soaked with drool and sweat, and semen cools beneath his stomach, sticking uncomfortably to his skin.

He opens one eye and looks up at the vampire leaning over him with a lecherous smile.

“Would you like to join me, my beautiful brother? We still have a few hours before she gets home.” The brunet rolls onto his back to make room for Yeosang in the bed. His fingers run along the sculpted curves of his abs, scooping up the viscous, pearly liquid and sliding it into his mouth. “Mmm…” A long tongue swirled around his fingers, licking up every drop with lazy, slow pleasure.

“You're disgusting, San.” Yeosang puckered his lips in disgust, looking around at the brunette sprawled on the bed. He turned sharply on his heels and strode away from the room; to he pick up Yoru on his way, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, in his arms. “Get up; we have to go. Hongjoon is calling us.”

“You're not leaving the cat?”

The brunette turned around over his shoulder, meeting his gaze with San's silver eyes.

“June misses his darling; for our little girl, it's time to come home.”

San propped himself up on his elbows, looking at the departing Yeosang. His lips stretched in a satisfied smile full of devilish anticipation.

The time had finally come.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

1st POV

"Feed me to the wolves, let them take my flesh."

��Well, I'm glad to finally meet you in a more relaxed setting, Miss Ahn. Please take a seat.” With an elegant gesture, the man motioned me to a deep leather chair in front of his desk. On the glass tabletop was a silver plaque engraved with the name “Mr. Lee Taeho”.

“Miss An” - how sad and tragic that sounds. I never wanted to try out this role. I didn't like being addressed like that, because it was always Mina, and before her, it was my grandmother, and probably my mother was addressed like that when she was alive.

But here I am, the new Miss Ahn, and unlike my predecessors, I have not sought to carry the weight of this unbearable crown. I don't need the congratulatory ribbons and the wet glitter sequins smeared across my face.

Although there was nothing in the address itself that I could call unpleasant, the tone with which it was always delivered foreshadowed the inevitable tragic ending of its own and tasted of earth and chrysanthemums.

You're bound to end up as one of them; it's not all by chance, Sarang. Don't kid yourself.

I saw the future as a series of predetermined events, especially after Mina's death. She had the arrogance to dispose of my life as she saw fit, putting chains of obligations and secrets around my neck. I buried her in the ground, and my days became nothing more than a list of dull plans, paltry hopes, and bitter regrets, as murky as the water in the city canals through which a coffin floats. Still, I couldn't help but wonder who would be the next Miss An when I died, or would I be the one to hold that title forever?

There are never any former queens. There are only dead ones.

I could feel the blood flowing faster through my veins.

For a few moments, there was silence around us, thick and enveloping like fog. If I'd felt any hint of confidence as I walked through the tall glass doors of Silver & Black LTD, now, alone with this man, I was floundering in my social insecurity like a butterfly caught in a spider's web. I resisted the urge to squirm under the gaze of his night-dark eyes. Beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

Lee Taeho wasn't just one of Silver & Black's most successful lawyers; he was also a devilishly handsome man.

He was built like a god. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, and a tight-fitting white shirt that accentuated his muscular biceps, bulging pecs, and flat stomach. The image of strength and power was completed by the perfectly tailored, tight-fitting trousers. The rolled-up sleeves revealed several tattoos on his wiry forearms—something in Latin that I couldn't make out.

His face was also striking, with angular, pointed features that would have looked strange and out of place on anyone else, but the luscious, perfectly sculpted lips made them something unimaginable and outrageously beautiful.

I felt uncomfortable under the weight of his scrutinizing gaze. He was looking at me like I was something special, but not in a sexual or romantic way; rather, it was the look of an explorer who had found an unexpected treasure in a pile of rubbish.

“I honestly didn't expect you to have any free time in the next few months, so thank you for seeing me at such short notice.”

To be honest, I knew absolutely nothing about Silver & Black until Soomin told me about them on the way here. Soo turned out to be absolutely right when she told me about them. This place was the epitome of the arrogant domination of money and power—cold, glassy, and sterile, like a morgue where the remains of all “happy stories” are taken.

I could never belong to such a place, but I could easily imagine Mina here, with her developing blood curls and the unemotional grandeur of royalty. People like my sister were part of that 'proper' society so suited to closed Sunday clubs and icy glass offices. Like all of her kind, Mina was a great predator, used to labeling people and giving them her own names and definitions. She knew exactly how to make those around her feel uncomfortable with just one look.

Some people have everything, others nothing. It's as cruel and true as the inequality of love.

I still didn't understand how Mina had so much money to afford the services of this company, but judging by how polite and “sweetly” the receptionist greeted me at the entrance, she was very much appreciated here.

Blood of my blood.

“You have nothing to thank me for, Saran.” He said that, and I looked back at him in surprise. It wasn't so much the fact that he allowed himself a familiarity that surprised me, but the way he said my name—as if it had always belonged to his lips. It was as if he'd said it over and over again until the intonation was perfect.

My heart beats fast in my chest, but I couldn't tell if it was fear or something else entirely.

“We will always make time for you. If you'll allow me to be frank, I've left a few free hours each day, just in case you decide to call me. Honestly, I expected it to take a little less time on your part, but who am I to judge you, Sarang?”

“But why?” I tried to gather information and put it together in a way that wasn't absurd. I didn't want to assume anything.

“Why? Do I have to explain? Maybe I just wanted to see you; you're a beautiful girl, and I'm a great admirer of the beautiful. He smiled, seemingly satisfied with the embarrassment that must have been written on my face. I could feel the heat spilling over my cheeks, turning them a painfully inflamed shade of red.

I had never been a girl with a 'cute' blush. I was more like a girl burned by the gold of the sun, pressing her cheek directly against the boiling, bubbling surface of the sun.

Taeho lightly drummed his perfectly filed nails on the glass tabletop, completely ignoring my obvious embarrassment at the situation, and continued:

“But let's say that this is due to the fact that your dear sister was a valued client of ours, whom everyone here at Silver & Black LTD sincerely appreciated. Miss Ahn was our special customer. All the staff will agree with me; your sister is impossible not to love.”

“A special client?” I interjected. Somehow, that didn't surprise me at all. Of course, it was only natural that Mina was always at the center of the universe. People followed the sound of her voice like rats behind the magical melody of the flute.

“Are you surprised, Sarang? Your sister has helped our firm in many ways, bringing us new clients and introducing us to the 'right' people, making our firm one of the best in Korea. She's contributed a lot to the development of Silver & Black. There was a strange note in his voice, as if between the cracks there was something terrible—a terrible secret that could change my whole life.

For some reason, I don't feel comfortable at all right now.

“I'm pleased… hmm, or rather, I'm pleased to know that my sister has done so much for you. Lately, she and I haven't really been close, and we've barely chatted. So I didn't know where she went or what kind of people she hung out with.” My words come out a little sour, and I press my lips together.

The lovely Mina, as always, is proving to be the best. I wonder if the day will come when she damn pedestal will be nothing but a pile of ruins at my feet. I thought all this time you'd been pining for roses, but instead you've been doing the right thing. What else don't I know about you, Ahn Min?

What don't I want to know about you?

''Yes, yes, she helped us a lot. Now let's get on with signing the documents, do you mind? I don't want to keep you any longer than necessary.” His words were very dry, businesslike, and in no way in keeping with the previous flirtation. Something flashed in his eyes—concern, doubt, maybe even fear—there was a tense tremor in his hands, and his whole aura changed, as if something huge and evil had turned its attention to him.

“Sure, let's get started.”

The entire process took no more than 30 minutes. I signed document after document, with occasional detached comments from Mr. Lee, which were completely at odds with his previous behavior. There was nothing special about the documents, except for one thing: Rose Hill. As best, I could make out from the extensive stack of papers, it was a small house in the style of Victorian England. It was in the ownership of a gated cottage community, the grounds of which were owned by a private company. It was all too complex and confusing to realize the meaning in the space of 30 minutes. I'll deal with it later, most likely in the company of Soomin and a couple of bottles of wine.

“Can I sell the house I inherited, Rose Hill?” I asked without lifting my head from the papers; a few more strokes and I could be out of here. The atmosphere in the office was terribly tense; my skin itched unpleasantly and tingled in places as if it no longer belonged to me.

“To my regret, I cannot help you in this matter. In all matters concerning Rose Hill, you must deal directly with the owners of the land; I will email you their contacts.” The smile he gave me was forced, and I couldn't help but wonder what had made such a difference in his change of mood.

“Okay, thank you.” I signed the last form and handed the pile of paperwork to Mr. Lee. “I'm done; hopefully everything is settled now. Can I get a copy of the documents, preferably today?”

Taeho cursorily flicked through the pages to make sure each one was signed.

“Our administrator, Sunwoo, will give you all the documents. There is one more thing you need to get before you leave. When you leave here, go further down the corridor to the vault, and Bora will show you a locker in the storage room that belongs to your sister. Now, if you'll excuse me, my next customer is waiting, and I don't want to keep him waiting.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Lee.” I clumsily rose from my chair, trying to get out of this stuffy room as quickly as possible. The air felt pressurized, and I felt like I was going to start suffocating a little more. I needed to get out of here right now.

“It was nice to meet you, too, Miss Ahn. Please take care of yourself.” The look he gave me was sad—so unusually sad, like the look of a man living his last day on earth. It was as if the end had come for him before he could realize it.

His words, on the contrary, were a warning. “Take care of yourself.” What kind of lawyer wishes that to a client as a farewell? Was I in danger? Perhaps you were. Although that's true, it's worth crossing out the word “perhaps”, yes, I was in danger. Could he have known about it? Did Taeho know about the roses or the people who sent those awful flowers? Was there something he hadn't told me? A thousand questions were in my head as I walked out of his office.

Mechanically, I reach for the strands of pearls at my neck and twist them around my fingers, nervousness bubbling in my stomach. This isn't some worldwide conspiracy, Sarang. Wake up.

I think I'm becoming paranoid.

The door closes softly behind me. I'm alone in a sterile, shiny corridor.

In the distance, I hear a cheerful laugh—Soomin. She was definitely laughing. Soo is having a great time waiting for me to wrap things up. Even though she was denied my escort to Mr. Lee's office, she wasn't upset at all because the nice receptionist, Sunwoo, I think his name was, was determined not to let her get bored alone.

I could have fallen in love with him. He was charming and cute, with a sweet, heart-shaped smile that would make your teeth rot. He was wearing a perfectly tailored suit, Armani Prive, in a thinly stitched pinstripe. I'd say he looked like a puppy. With those big, wet, shiny eyes and the way he struck the right pose when you told him to.

Yes, that was the kind of guy I fell in love with—the kind with a good reputation and a well-paid job—the kind who makes love, not fucks. They're the ones who make sure he looks you in the eye and whispers to you about how good you're feeling when he's caressing your body.

Good boys. Obedient boys. Sugar-coated like candy.

If I fell in love with a guy like that, Soomin would break him up like a Christmas candy bar and take a bite right down the middle of him. She liked that type—kind, gentle, and submissive. There had never been a lack of male attention in her life, but for some reason, Soo had always surrounded herself with this type of boy, like colorful toys. She wasn't afraid to break them because she could always move on to the next one. They never crossed her, nodding in obedience and jumping as high as she asked. Men were no more precious to Soo than broken crystal balls, shimmering but useless.

The corridor in front of me was long and empty, with a single door at the end. The sound of heels hitting marble tiles echoed in my head, and the checkerboard pattern on the marble was jarring. For a moment, I thought the corridor was narrowing like a rabbit hole, endless and dark. I was short of air, unable to breathe, and the oxygen in my lungs was as thick and viscous as swamp sludge. I clawed at my neck with my fingernails, trying to pull off the pearl collar, but I felt myself tightening it stronger. My eyes stung from tears and mascara, and ink streaks ran down my cheeks, and somehow they felt colder than they should have.

My fingernails dug into the skin on my collarbones, scratching at it with cruelty and anger.

I needed to get away from myself. To be separate from my body and the way I felt. The nightmare awakened inside me, licking my veins, working its way inside, and gnawing into my soul. My consciousness was beyond my mind.

I hear the sound of tearing threads and thousands of pearls falling at my feet, and I fall with them. I want to go back to before it all began. Before the pain, Before the roses.

Fluorescent lights flash like the tails of nameless comets on the pearly roundness of the beads. I see stars exploding behind my eyes, painting the underside of my eyelids with intricate strokes—the constellation Gemini. Nergal. I want to remember the days when roses were just roses, not home to the ghosts of my soul.

I hear a sound—it's pearls crunching under sharp heels. Under steel heels, like the teeth of the Witch Queen.

“Oh my God, Saran!” Someone shouts. Soomin isn't laughing anymore.

Her hands are so cold against my clammy skin. She presses my face against her chest, and the feverish beating of her heart brings me back to reality. She is my white rabbit.

Voices, voices—there are so many of them. It's a cacophony of sounds and unpleasant cracking noises. The pearls keep breaking, and I keep crying.

Someone brings me a glass of unpleasantly cold water; it runs down my throat like a liquid flame.

I finally took a breath.

“Take me home.” That's all I can say right now. I want to go home, away from the world, away from the sun, and away from the memories.

“She's having a panic attack; she needs air.”

“No! I need to go home.”

“It's OK, sweetheart. I've got you,” Soo purrs, kissing the top of my head like a little baby. She pulls me off the floor with effort, lifting me to my feet.

I look down at the checkered pattern of the marble slabs and at the scattered pearls. In some places, the white slabs are smeared with red, like lipstick smeared by a kiss. This is blood. My blood.

My legs shake like a newborn fawn as Soomin leads me away from this place. Every step was painful, almost more painful than Soo's tight grip on my forearm. “It's okay, Sarang, we're going home.”

It's okay, Sarang.

It's okay.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

“Are you sure you're feeling better?”

“Yeah, I'm fine now.” I squeezed out the shadow of a smile. Apparently it was useless; the look in her eyes remained the same: worried, with fear lurking around the edges. Fear for me.

“How long have you been having these attacks?”

“This is the first time. I guess… I don't know. Let's just say it's a consequence of trauma. I don't want to talk about it.”

“I'm so sorry.” Soo crouched on the edge of the bed, taking my hand gently. I was made of glass; she didn't want to break me or do the opposite by hurting herself on me. “It's so horrible that you have to go through all this, baby.”

“Yes, it is.” What else could I say? I could not have said a word, and everything would have been understood. The wounds under the bandage itched terribly. Long red marks stretched along my collarbones and neck. Mascara was still smeared across my face, as was the soft pink lip gloss. I looked like a mess. I was a mess.

My throat was all dry and thirsty, and my eyes were so swollen I couldn't even open them fully.

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight, love? We can watch a film or something; maybe one of those stupid comedy shows Mina hated. I'll make dinner and open the wine.”

“No need; I'll be fine. Soomin, go home; you should be resting too, not babysitting me. I'm fine, really. I'm feeling better, and I'll definitely get through the night. I'll probably go straight to sleep as soon as you leave.” Much as I loved Soo, I didn't feel like seeing anyone right now.

“If you say so, Please call me in the morning as soon as you wake up, okay?”

“Of course. Be safe, Soo. Love you.” I thought I covered my eyes for only a second before I heard the click of the front door. The mark of her kiss burned on my cheek.

I don't know how many hours I sat like that—completely still, not taking my eyes off the dark landscape outside the window, which was getting brighter now that a little moonlight was seeping through the thick clouds.

I didn't want to get out of bed, drowning in pillows and blankets like a pipe dream. I felt good in my bed. I couldn't understand what exactly had changed, but I could feel the change. Even in the morning, the bed had been cold and lonely, but now the silk under my fingers was warmer and softer to the touch. Even the smell of the blankets seemed to be different, like purple lilies and musk, a scent that remotely reminded me of something very familiar but long forgotten. Could it have been Soo's perfume? No, more like the scent that Yoru always brought with her.

By the way, where did she go? She was here when I left this morning, but knowing her talent for disappearing and reappearing at will, I didn't hold out much hope of seeing her today. It would be nice to have her around now, though.

I rolled onto my side, resting my cheek against the pillow. I didn't want to sleep, but I didn't want to get out of bed either. My gaze settled on the small box that lay on the chair across from the bed. A casket from a storage locker.

After my panic attack, Soomin took it away, since I was apparently incapable of doing so. Next to it was a neat stack of papers with black paint poisonously embedded in them, listing all the possessions I now owned, including Rose Hill, but the most valuable and important thing was kept in this little silver coffin.

The metal walls of the casket shimmered like liquid silver when moonlight hit them. I was mesmerized by this otherworldly glow. Number 0711 - Miss Ahn Mina. Sometimes a lifetime can be folded like origami and placed on a velvet cushion like a collector's item.

I struggled with myself for a few more minutes before I threw back the blankets and got out of bed. My curiosity outweighed my fear. At that moment, I had to remind myself that “curiosity killed the cat,” and if I had been any smarter, I would have thrown the box to hell and never thought of it again.

The box opened silently, and I felt a chill, as if someone had dipped my heart in ice water. There weren't many things in the box—something old, something new, and something blue—all like a wedding tradition. It wasn't like Mina. She had always despised the idea of marriage; the very thought of anyone daring to claim her freedom made her sick.

It wasn't for her, and it wasn't for me.

Weddings are gorgeous, creamy bouquets of fragrant flowers that breathe in the dawn. At the end of a long journey down a narrow church aisle, a handsome prince awaits with the promise of eternal love. As if. Girls, guard your hearts, for they will eat them for breakfast. Piece by piece, like a birthday cake, until there's nothing left to keep you alive.

Then there'll be another, just as naive. And then another, and so on, endlessly. That's all love is. A streak of devil's rubies and eaten hearts.

There was no heart and no love in that box. Just one little piece of paper with torn edges and a handful of precious trinkets. Just one small puzzle piece that had fallen out of a huge and complex picture. I could recognize Mina's handwriting from a million others, but the words written on that little piece of paper were not hers. In each letter lurked something that had never belonged to Mina; her hand had scrawled those lines, but her lips had never uttered those words.

“My only love. My divine Rose, when I leave this world, I will leave you everything you could ever want. When you read this, I will be gone. Everything has been arranged; everything is ready for you. The whole world will belong to you, my love. I took care of it. On the back of this page, I have left the number of my good friend. Please give him a call; he will help you with all the things you need. He'll be waiting for you. He is the only one you can trust, Sarang. Your beloved Mina P.S. Don't forget, love is eternal.”

I flipped the sheet to the other side. The handwriting was the same but so different; the letters were sharp and crumpled, as if they were written in a hurry.

Hongjoong. I had heard that name before. I knew the taste of it on my tongue.

My fingers hurriedly dialed the number; I didn't look at the time, and, to be honest, I didn't care. I wanted to make sure that he was real and that this wasn't another one of her crazy fantasies that would lead me down a blind alley. I needed to know that Hongjoong wasn't fiction but blood and flesh, intermittent breathing, and an unevenly beating pulse.

At the other end of the phone, the long beeps were interrupted, there was a static pause for a second, and then I heard the sleepy and so welcome sound:

“Hello.”

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fyodior · 1 year ago

Text

june 19th

✦ pairing: dazai x gn!reader

✦ notes: my 4th installment of blurbs for my boy's birthdays (bbb). i love him so much it hurts. let's all pretend this isn't 2 days late <3

✦ warnings: surprisingly sfw, talks of death/suicide (it's dazai), minor angst but painfully sweet at the end

✦ wc: 1k

Birthdays were hard for Dazai. The congratulations, the gifts, the cake, the smiles, only reminded him of one thing – he survived another year. A concept that was still difficult for him to grasp. It was admittedly getting easier, slowly finding things worth living for, but still hard. When he spent so much of his life, so many of his formative years, hoping for nothing but death, it’s hard for that not to be in the back of his mind.

When birthdays felt like a failure. When the number ticking up made Dazai feel like a coward. A further reminder that he hadn’t built up the guts, that he was still naïve enough to think there was something worth living for, and he just hadn’t found it yet. A spineless fool who could never practice what he preached.

The only thing that made him crack a smile when he was strongarmed into blowing out the candles of the cake that Elise demanded, was how antithetical it was to wish for death at a celebration of his birth. A paradox of his own creation.

Dazai could never really understand why anyone wanted to celebrate his birth. He couldn’t think of a single person who, for a reason outside of personal gain, would be sad if he died. Sure, Mori and much of the Port Mafia would mourn the loss of one of their most cunning executives, Odasaku would miss having a drinking buddy, and Chuuya would miss having someone to antagonize, but no one would miss him. No one would miss Osamu Dazai as an individual and a soul, for all that he is and is not.

So why was it worth celebrating his life – the opposite of his death?

You were the first person Dazai ever met who actually cherished him for who he was, and not what he could provide. His life meant something, meant everything to you, and was more than worthy of celebration.

The first to look him in the eyes and tell him you would be sad if he died.

“You are so much more than a Port Mafia executive, or a Detective Agency detective – you’re so much more than No Longer Human, and even more than my partner,” you whispered to him one night. “You, are Osamu Dazai. A soul unlike any other, and a soul just as worthy of existing and being loved.”

Of course, he never really quite believed you – and you didn’t much expect him to, either. Not with how this life had treated him. He spent his whole life being told his worth extended only as far as what he could do, never who he could be.

Even when you spent hours gently unwrapping every single bandage that adorned his fragile skin, and kissed every single scar that marred his body, Dazai still didn’t quite comprehend. Not even when you helped him wrap fresh ones, each sealed with a kiss, assuring him that he didn’t have to hide but you would always support his comfort. But that was okay. You didn’t love just to receive love. You loved because he was worth it.

So when his birthday came around, the first of which the two of you would be spending together, you were very intentional with plans. You wanted to make him feel loved and cherished and worthy, but not push him past his limit – or make it feel artificial. It couldn’t feel like it was just going through the motions and playing out the stereotypes of a birthday. It needed to be suited to Dazai, so that he could see that it was on purpose.

Just a typical weekday, you turned off his alarm and woke him with a gentle kiss, whispering a sweet “happy birthday, my love” against his lips. Not even Dazai could fight the way his lips curled into a smile. You washed his hair in the shower and rewrapped his bandages for him, and he even let you apply a few swipes of mascara on his fluttery eyelashes, telling him it was so he could look extra pretty for his special day.

Sending him off to work with a perfectly crafted latte and a flurry of I love you’s, you sat down on the balcony with a paper and pen to write his birthday letter – his only gift, aside from the exorbitantly priced bottle of sake you bought to pair with dinner.

Dear Osamu, it began.

I am a lovesick fool. Your heart has corrupted me in the most irreversible way possible, and your soul has eternally entangled itself with mine. You blind me with your kindness, your passion, and your devotion. I have more love for you than there are stars in the sky, and you are worthy of every atom.

It is only when the ink of your pen starts to run dry that, three pages later, you decide to conclude the letter.

Happy birthday, my one true love. You matter. The letters were lacking in opacity but enriched with love.

And when Dazai finally arrived home, telling stories that likely were not supposed to grace the ears of non-Agency employees, you surprised him with a simple, yet very deliberate dinner. Crab and sake – just what he liked. The laughs got louder as glasses were poured, and tears collected at the corners of his eyes as he read through your letter. You matter, he mouthed silently as he read the line.

And for the first time in his entire life, an inkling of a sliver of a thought entered his mind, that maybe, just maybe, you were right.

#dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x gn!reader #dazai fanfic #dazai fluff #dazai x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #osamu dazai

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marvelmusing · 2 years ago

Text

A Courtship of Shadows

Pairing: Fae King!Aleksander x Fem!Reader

Summary: After centuries of seclusion, Aleksander is ready to form an alliance with the humans of West Ravka. The human king will be easy enough to manipulate, though his royal advisor appears to be more than Aleksander anticipated.

Word Count: 1.6K

My Masterlist

“She is infuriating.”

Ivan watches his king pace back and forth beside the fireplace in the royal study, firelight dancing over his features as his brows draw together. As the king’s most trusted advisor, Ivan knows to remain quiet as his ruler vents his frustrations. Especially since he knows exactly who has him so riled up.

For centuries, East Ravka has been a safe haven for the Fae-folk, protected by the wall of shadow that shielded them from the rest of the world. Humans from Fjerda, Shu Han, and West Ravka often ventured into the darkness, only to be driven out by the volcra – fierce creatures that would only answer to their master.

Just over a year ago, the Fae king had decided it was time to witness for himself how humanity had changed, parting the Fold and creating a small path for his travelling party to journey into West Ravka safely.

When the volcra and the shadow barrier had been created, Fae were hunted for their gifts, held captive to be tortured, killed, or enslaved. The Fae king had wanted to see if they had changed.

The Fae kingdom was thriving with freedoms never allowed before, but there is always opportunity for improvement. If there is one thing the Fae king cares about above all else, it is the people he has ruled over ever since the creation of the Shadow Fold.

Ivan finds the human king rather unremarkable, and he’s certain his king feels the same. The humans don’t suffer for it, but the man lacks any sort of drive or ambition. After one conversation with him, Ivan had thought his king would abandon his thoughts of an alliance with the humans.

Then he had met you.

A royal advisor that possesses everything the king lacks. Even Ivan will admit that you are intelligent and quick witted, you clearly care for your people, and you had never looked down upon the Fae. Though it is evident you don’t trust them. Fedoyr, ever the optimist, had argued that you didn’t seem to trust anyone.

Ivan knows that his king isn’t above manipulation to get what he wants. From what they have seen of your influence at Court, to have you in his debt would be to own the human king himself. Though it appears you are not as easy to trap as the Fae king had initially hoped.

“She doesn’t accept gifts until she knows they are given freely.”

He runs a hand through his hair before he stops at the small table beside his armchair. There’s the clink of glass as he removes the stopper on the decanter of wine, then the dark liquid flows into a short crystal glass.

“She won’t eat or drink anything I offer.”

The king swallows down a mouthful of liquid, nose wrinkling at the strength. He looks down into the glass, sighing as he sits down.

“Almost every human I’ve ever met responds with thanks after a compliment, but of course she doesn’t.” He scoffs lightly, taking another drink.

For a moment, Ivan thinks he hears amusement in his king’s voice, though he pushes that thought away quickly.

“She never accepts my invitation to dance. Even at a human function, where the music holds no power over her.”

The king runs a hand over his face, smoothing across his neatly trimmed facial hair.

“She never lies to me, though I can hear the way her truths bend into clever little remarks to distract me.”

The corner of his mouth twitches slightly as he stares down at the rug beneath his feet.

“She gives me a new name to call her by every time we meet, with this teasing smile, as if this is all just a game to her.” That prompts Ivan into speaking up,

“You think she suspects something of you?”

“Perhaps,” the king muses distantly.

Then he appears to realise that Ivan is still standing by the desk where they had been discussing plans for a trade route, until the topic of conversation had somehow shifted to the king’s opinion of you. He nods towards his advisor, saying quietly,

“I think that will be all for tonight, Ivan.”

»»---------------------►

Aleksander is so very tired. Being away from the Fae kingdom always drains him but the company, particularly at these balls, has him longing to lie alone in a field until the sky grows dark and the stars reveal themselves.

He stifles a yawn, briefly wondering when the last time was that he had a relaxed morning where he could remain in bed until whenever he wished to rise.

A group of young men and women flock around him, unable to resist the allure of the unknown and fantastical. He captivates them all easily enough, securing an almost unending chorus of ‘thank you, your highness’ in a coy response to his charms.

Humans really should teach their children about the dangers of the Fae. He isn’t intending on invoking any of these young nobles into his service, but he could, with the power they all hand to him unknowingly.

Politely, he excuses himself from them and makes his way around the room, noticing that the Kaelish ambassador had finally found another poor soul to listen to his ramblings, meaning that you are alone.

He appears beside you, stepping closer as he reaches behind you to pick up a goblet of wine. You bow lightly, inclining your head as you greet him. His own words are spoken into the crook of your neck.

“What name have you selected to offer me tonight, my lady?”

Momentarily, your eyes meet.

“You may call me Blossom.”

“Feeling inspired by the turning of the season?”

A small smile flickers at the corner of your lips.

“Spring has always been one of my favourite times of the year.”

As you watch people gathering to the centre of the ballroom, glittering dresses twirling as princesses and noble ladies are swept up by doting suitors, you don’t notice his gaze as he admires you.

“Might I say you look rather lovely this evening.”

“That’s kind of you to say, your highness.”

Whilst your knowledge of Fae-folk might be vexing at times, and detrimental towards his plan for the human throne, Aleksander finds it refreshing. His smirk widens as you turn to meet his gaze, no doubt curious as to why he hasn’t provided a response like usual.

As his lips part to give you a retort, there’s the sound of a small commotion at the side of the ballroom. The two of you watch as people gather around to get a glimpse of whatever has happened.

When Aleksander sees you roll your eyes lightly he frowns, and you duck your head down, tilting it towards his to inform him.

“It appears a lady has swooned rather tactically into Prince Rudolph’s arms.”

The corner of his mouth twitches in distaste. This isn’t the first swoon Aleksander has observed in the human court though he is no more impressed than the first time. The Fae Court, for all its rules and laws, is infamously brutal. A display of weakness, and dishonesty, such as swooning would gain a lady nothing but indifference.

“If someone were to swoon in my court there would be very few that would consider them a suitable partner.”

“That’s my sister.”

Aleksander’s eyes widen as they bounce between you and the woman currently being fanned down by the Prince.

“I meant no offense. I-”

The soft sound of your laughter stops him from fumbling through any more of his apology. As you look over towards your sister, your smile fades.

“Mother will be pleased. At least one of us turned out how she wanted.”

Aleksander has never known you to mention your family before. Of course, he knows of each and every member and their position in the human court. That your father was a viscount before a riding accident left your mother a widow when you and your sister were young. He knows you have a cousin that will inherit your father’s title when he comes of age.

“She thinks I was a changeling child.”

He tilts his head towards you at your admission. The idea of changelings is rather outdated, something humans of the past had used to scaremonger their peers, because the Fae were considered evil creatures that would kidnap society’s most vulnerable and innocent.

“We don’t actually do that.”

The corner of your mouth twists as you remark teasingly,

“What? Steal children?”

He nods with a tiny smile as he observes the glimmer of disappointment in your eyes. Had you hoped to be a changeling? Did you want to be like him? Aleksander has a feeling that you would thrive in the Fae kingdom.

“It’s just a fable,” he says softly.

Looking down, you nod in resignation.

“I thought so.” Then amusement sparkles in your eyes as you look back up at him. “After all, there’s only one person who can cross the Fold safely, and I can’t imagine you smuggling armfuls of babies in your leisure time.”

Aleksander laughs. The sound turns a few heads and you look rather bashful at the realisation that you had made the fearsome Fae king - the infamous Darkling - laugh.

“I actually use a cart pulled by volcra.”

As the jest leaves his lips, you gape at him with amusement and surprised delight dancing in your eyes. Then you bite down on your lip momentarily, before succumbing to your own bout of laughter. Aleksander loves hearing you laugh. When your laughter fades and the two of you go quiet he decides to add,

“Kaminsky’s parents were human.” When you frown he elaborates, “My second in command, his parents were both mortal humans. His brothers were human too.”

He can see you holding your breath as you look at him, eyes wide with longing and hope and fear. Your voice wavers as you whisper,

“What are you trying to say to me?”

“That you do not have to be born of the Fae to be one of us.”

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters

»»---------------------►

#aleksander morozova #fae!aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling au #the darkling x reader #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader #fae au

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bump1nthen1ght · 9 months ago

Text

Do the Crime, Pay the Time (M!Reader x M!Undead Knight)

Pairing: Male!Artist!Reader x Male!Undead Knight

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Misunderstandings

Warnings: Extremely Dubious Consent, No preparation

Word Count: 2254 words

Summary: All you had wanted was to paint, to decorate these abandoned ruins with your art. But it seems your presence is unwanted at these ‘abandoned’ ruins.

Request: i have an idea for a request,,

how bout an Undead Male Knight x Male Graffiti Artist

The Graffiti artist would wander into some ruins away from the city to paint a mural, unknowing of its origins and get caught by the Undead Knight…

Maybe some punishment for trespassing on the ruined kingdoms property,,? 🥹

You should have known this place was too good to be true.

You had stumbled upon it wandering one day, shocked that the crumbling ruins weren't kept behind a “KEEP OUT - PRIVATE PROPERTY” sign. That wouldn’t have stopped you, of course, but the fact the large complex was seemingly abandoned made it all the more interesting.

Most of the ceiling had caved in, remnants of flying buttress and great arches overgrown with moss and water damage. Some remains of stained glass lay shattered on the ground, brushed into the corners by the wind or wandering animals.

But what takes your attention is the surprisingly intact wall, clean of debris and dust. It’s perfect for a mural, and on first site the painting is already forming in your head.

You head home to pack up supplies and pray it stays unsigned by the next day. Your arms shake from all your equipment - a ladder, cans, some brushes and paints - and you mentally cheer once you see the clear wall left intact.

The high of uninhibited artistic creation must dull your senses, because you do not hear the crunching of rusted armor or the dragging of long-slept limbs. No, it’s not until you’re being choke slammed into your easel that you realize this place was very much inhabited.

“Speak your name, intruder.”

Your attacker’s voice is low, tense and full of authority. Your nails scramble at the armored hand holding you up, trying to pry them off your throat.

I need to breathe to speak, you psycho!

You try to scream with your eyes, feeling your vision go spotty.

All you can see of your assailant is a glowing green eye, trembling like an open flame out from their dark helm. The light from it hints at something underneath, bleach white like bone, but it must be from the lack of oxygen to your brain. Surely he isn’t-

The man loosens his hold on your jugular, blood rushing back in as you suck in a deep breath. You slowly regain your faculties, and your eyes begin to adjust in the low light of the morning.

“I didn’t realize-”

The arm pushes you further against the wall, raising you so your legs dangle like a ragdoll.

“I asked for your name, not an excuse.”

The voice says, no less angry than before. A filtered beam of sunlight comes through one of the stained glass windows, and you see another glimpse of his face.

Your brain hasn't deceived you. It was bone, a stripped clean skull right underneath a fiery green eye. But it was only one half, the other side being that of a shockingly handsome knight, sharp cheekbones and a smatter of freckles. His more human eyes are the same acid-green as the other, but doesn’t burn or glow the same way.

“___! My name is ____!” You gasp, hands still desperately trying to rip away his fingers.

The knight hums, eyes rolling down your form. It’s just some painter's overalls and a t-shirt, surely different from the thieves and nobles he is more familiar with.

“Why do you trespass on this place that is not your own?” He commands, holding you up with minimal effort. The bulk underneath his armor must not be just for show, especially with the large greatsword he wields on his back.

“I didn’t know someone was here! I just wanted-” You choke, feeling the palm of his armor digging into your jaw. You tap it furiously, and the knight must deem you harmless enough to set you down on the ground without a fight.

You drop to your butt, hands clutching what is surely your bruised throat.

“I just wanted to paint.” You urge, trying your best to seem innocent and non-threatening. This dude seems to have a hair-trigger temper.

The human eye appraises you again, the knight humming with burgeoning thoughts.

“I see.” The bared teeth of his skull clink together as his mouth grits, brow half-furrowing as he thinks on what to do with you. You eye that massive sword, brain going for the worst.

“Listen, I can go right now. I won’t tell anyone about this place, and once again I am so sorry-”

A palm is in your face, the other creasing the growing knot in the knight's brow. He seems less angry now, more frustrated. The bared teeth clink together.

He keeps his thoughts to himself as he stews, seemingly having a mini argument in his head.

“I see you are not a thief, nor do you seem to have…” Both eyes roll down your outfit again, taking stock in your lack of weapons or tools, “...nefarious intentions. But nonetheless you have disturbed this holy place, and for that my cursed commands I punish you.”

You grab your throat, instincts somehow believing your hand could stop that sword from separating your head from the rest of your body.

But the knight just sighs, arms not going for his great sheath, and instead kneels before you.

The gauntlet is cold against your flushed cheek, the knight's hand nearly the size of your face as he tilts your jaw to him. His face has fallen back to flat, contemplative and in control.

The human iris feels hot as it looks down the column of your neck, eyes your heaving chest, still full with nervous breaths. You think you see it sweeping lower, lower, before darting back.

“I suppose I can provide punishment in an alternative way to the convention.” The knight grips your jaw, yanking you forward.

His glowing eye is hard to look away from. You feel like a moth, drawn in by the flickering emerald spits in his eye. Your heart thuds in your ears, wondering if you’re about to get the beating of a lifetime

And then the bastard kisses you.

Well, half-kisses you. The lips he has are soft and plump, conveying a lot of experience with one smooth motion. The bone is a little more jarring, jagged teeth crashing against yours, yet making the same movements as the lips.

All in all though, not the worst kiss you’ve ever had.

The knight pulls away, no breath being lost on his end as a string of saliva connects your wet lips. Both eyes burn with something familiar,and he flicks a tongue across his half-lip.

“Yes, I think this will do perfectly.”

Before you can clarify, the knight meets you in another steaming kiss. It's quicker than the last, lips traveling down your neck and sucking hickies into the flesh. The knight seems particularly enraptured by your pulse, lingering and nipping at the pumping blood.

Ok, I guess this is happening.

You don’t really have a place to complain, as it seems your options are this or grave bodily harm. But even so, the flight-or-fight, survival monkey part of your brain tries to see the bright side. The bright side being that this guy isn’t too bad looking, and seems to be a very affectionate lover.

“U-uh mister knight-” You stutter out, brain beginning to bounce back from the shock of the last five minutes, “-what may I call you?”

“Sir Arthur.”

“Okay, Sir Arthur.” Your voice becomes breathily as Sir Arthur’s hands drift down your coveralls, deftly undoing your straps and yanking your pants loose around the waist. A metal hand caresses under your leg, groping the bottom of your thigh before reaching the fat of your ass, where it pushes and kneads like it was bread dough. Your body's instinctive reaction is to lurch forward, unintentionally grinding your crotch against his. There's muffled growls against your skin, and those gauntlets are back to yanking off your pants and underwear.

The castle floors send goosebumps down your bare legs, Arthur’s armor feeling ixy as he throws them over his thighs. The steel sends a jolt through you, your hips canting backwards as your cock feels the cold steel. But Sir Arthur’s grip is strong, his forearm keeping your power back in place. His hips swivel, groaning as he paws at your ass.

Does he even have a-

Your sarcastic question is answered with a couple pull of straps and the clank of armor falling to the ground. Something hot, heavy, and sticky thwaps against your stomach, brushing against your cock.

Sir Artur is still lost in kissing your shoulder, leaving several hickeys behind, and you feel comfortable letting your eyes drift downward. Unsurprisingly, his inhuman cock is as green as his eye, though luckily not on fire. No, in fact the ghost-cock seems to ooze a neon fluid, not dissimilar from cheap ectoplasm effects in movies.

Well, I guess we don’t need lube.

Your thoughts take a turn as you're suddenly thrown on your back, ankles still hooked around his back as Sir Arthur pins you to the ground. He’s pulled away from your neck, now focused on pushing your thighs back to your chest.

“Too long I have been without touch. This heat-” Sir Arthur’s chest rumbles with a purr, the flaming eye pulsing, “-it’s addictive.”

A warm head pushes against your entrance and you thank whoever’s up there for that spooky slime he has going on, because wow this man was packing.

Sir Arthur takes his time sinking inside of you, savoring every second of stretching you open. His armor clinks together as his body shutters, head thrown back in a moan.

“By the gods.” He swears in a dead language as he reaches his hilt, green drool seeping out of his skull jaw. A keening whine comes for your chest, your cock twitching as the tapered head grazes against your prostate.

The first thrust is tentative, but Sir Arthur seems encouraged by the yelp which explodes between your bitten lips. The nex thrust is slightly faster, sending a shock of pleasure all the way down your spine. Your toes curl behind his back, a drunken haze making your nerve ends tingle.

Sir Arthur’s armor trembles again, but it seems he’s found the rhythm he needs, and begins fuckign to you with a feevent desperation. Trails of slime connect your ass cheeks to his crotch as he thrusts down and into you, raspy breaths leaking from between his ribs.

Beads of precum bubble at your tip, cock aching for a single touch. Your balls twitch and tighten with each of his guided humps, all targeted perfectly at your sensitive spot. Bubbles of blood come from your worried bottom lip, and your needy moans echo across the destroyed ruins of the castle.

A part of you prays no one else stumbles upon this site and overhears your debauchery, sees you spread wide open for this hulking beast of a corpse. This knight who is far too good at fucking, whose cock deserves to have a dildo modeled after it. With a slime function, of course.

Heavy balls slap against your ass, cold trails of Sir Arthur’s ooze dripping down your ass crack and onto the floor. An armored thumb presses down on your lower lip, prodding you to open your mouth. With a brain too cock-drunk to fight your jaw opens easily, the taste of polished metal on your tongue.

“Suck, whore.” Sir Arthur commands, voice dripping with desire. Your tongue wraps around each groove and sucks, your cheeks hollowing as Sir Arthur groans at the sight. The tears bubbling at the corners of your eyes, the mating press, it all drives him wild. The position of knight suits him well if all it takes is a little power to make him horny.

He’s not a particularly loud lover, Sir Arthur. Most of the noises is slapping skin and clinking armor, only some low grunts and curses joining the cacophony as fucks you with more and more fervor. But it’s the way his fiery eye begins to ignite, the way he bites his half lip enough to draw sickly green blood, and the tightness of his balls which tell you he’s close.

“I’m going to fill you to the brim.” Sir Arthur punctuates his sentence with a hard thrust against your prostate, spots dotting your vision. “You will leak of me for days, trespasser. I will make sure of it.”

You feel your own orgasm brewing in your stomach, cock weeping as your balls grow tight. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull.

“F-fuck.” Sir Arthur draws out his vowel as he ends with several harried thrusts, hilted deep inside when he finally climaxes. What feels like a gallon of oozing, green-tinted cum fills you up, bursting from between the seams of your connection and spurting into the floor. He was right, you will be leaking him for days. Your own orgasms comes just as dramatically, mouth open inna breathless scream as you finish all over your stomach,

You don’t quite remember him leaving you, only the gaping emptiness left behind. It's taking a bit for your consciousness to reboot, to remember where you are. But there’s the sensation of cold against your skin, a wet rag rubbing down your sore entrance and across your stomach. A dull heat radiates through metal, massaging your thighs and neck as you’re laid on your back.

True warmth comes in the form of a heavy blanket, and your eyes flutter close under its softness.

“Rest your eyes, artist.” Sir Arthur whispers. “I will escort you back when you awake.”

Your last thoughts are vague, somewhat remembering the various paints you brought with you, and the pain they’ll be to carry home unemptied.

#my writing #reader insert #monster romance #male reader insert #monster x reader #requests

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ibelieveinvillainsupremacy · 7 months ago

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Oooooh!! I have an idea! How about a pitch black x reader where (Y/N) is totally Gen Z, so nothing really scares them and it drives Pitch INSANE.

Reader is so desensitized that anything Pitch tries to pull they just brush it off or think it’s funny!

Omg first request on my AU <33

Of course! Sounds so cool ^^

(After a lot of time i start writing again qwq)

Before starting, here's a little context on this AU:

I was inspired by @seaslugfanclub Disney Villains/ y/n park assistant concept, I thought something.

What if there was another company (generic name supposedly) that to go against this incredible idea of the Disney Parks to make the Villains turn into actual people decided to do the same thing with non- Disney Villains as well?

And this other y/n had to take care of them, because they are also very chaotic without a lead of some kind...

my most recent post includes way more villains i got obsessed with, so check out the list if you want to request me some asks!

Now, let's go <33

The Disney Parks had made such a smart move on making their bad guys come to life, so their most brilliant rival decided to do same thing.

But how to make their choice not sound like a copy of their rivals?

Easy.

Let's include multiple animated universes and let them come to life together!

Unfortunately for Y/N, the park attendant that has to reunite them all together and "take care" of their actions,

(no kids or human was harmed in this, writer of this confirms! at least not yet),

that wasn't an easy job. Not at all.

Don't get this wrong, the newest addition to the park really enjoyed villains of all kind (and despite not being accepted by the other park) she gladly wanted to work at this new one. Yeah, wanted.

Because the poor human didn't know tha chaos that was about to happen.

One of the villains that was a pain in the ass to tolerate was the lord of nightmares himself.

Now, normally one would be a little bit, at least for a moment, scared of what that man had in mind.

Well, let's just say that Y/N was one of those incredible (and so incredibly frustrating) humans that wasn't scared of the tricks and literal creatures Pitch could materialize out of nowhere.

Spiders? No, the park assistant wouldn't even look at them.

Clowns? You'll get a laugh and a few looks that seem to say "Not today, big guy"

Anything that the obscure could think about would never work.

"After months in your company, I'm still not sure on the reason why you are even able of seeing me, without any profound and maniacal fear in that head of yours."

Oh. That day you were literally head in the clouds, well not fully. You were trying to separate Rasputin and Rothbart (those bickering old-) that were for the thousand time arguing on who was the most powerful, had the coolest song, which one was almost going to be part of Disney (let's just think that he didn't succeed). And who had to help that mess? Guess.

So now you had another problem to fix. A big one.

You knew that he was a little disappointed from that look on his ashen face, so you had to fix that.

"Well, I actually am afraid of things, Pitch, but if I actually start panicking at any nightmare creation of yours, this park would be absolutely turned to dust. And I don't know where you'll go without me, and my frustrating emotionless face."

The villain then gave a small nod in your direction.

"Can you at least be scared next time? Just a little bit?"

"Would that make you happy?"

"I think so."

"Then alright big guy. I'll show you my terrified face, promise."

"I can't wait to see it."

#ask box #x reader #non disney villains #parkattendantau #dreamworks animation #rise of the guardians #pitch black #pitch black x reader #one shot #headcanons

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 1 year ago

Text

Progenitor

Pairing(s): Jasper Hale x Vampire!Reader, Edward Cullen x Bella Swan

Warnings: platonic Alice x Jasper, magic wielding vampire, no nahuel, alice can't see renesmee's future

Words:6,000+

"Tell me another story, cowboy." You impishly grin over to the man laying next to you. Your mate.

Really, there was no need for a bed in your room considering you never used it for actual sleep. That was beyond the both of you.

Jasper's smile is dashing against the flicker of your candles. His fingers are dancing over your shoulder and down your arm. "For someone who has lived for thousands of years, I'd figure you'd heard better stories."

You roll your eyes, kissing the plane of his chest. "This is the first time I've cared about the main character in those stories." It was true. Never had you cared about anyone as much as you did for Jasper. You just had to wait several centuries to meet the right one.

Through those years you'd taken many companions as well as turned many good friends and students. Even the oldest known vampires of the Volturi originate from your fangs. One would be lucky enough to boast that they were made by you. That meant something great in the known vampire community. Some even whispered that you were one of the first vampires in creation. You never spoke of your own origins. You told Jasper those were the dark ages of your life and were still not ready to go back to that time.

And for you to be even slightly interested in a young one like Jasper constantly confounds him. You ate up everything he told you, titillated by battle after battle that he won for Maria. Hanging on his every word with a sort of wide eyed innocence that was rare for their kind.

That's what he remembers (and misses) most about you. As much as the both of you loved one another, you couldn't stay in one place for too long. Jasper understood though both of you wish to see one another more often. As powerful as you were, it was something that neither of you could risk. Other vampires could sniff you out within moments. Not to mention you hadn't always necessarily been a nice vampire. One out of ten vampires was said to have a beef with you. It wasn't your safety that had you constantly roaming the world, it was the safety of the human world around you. Any city you were in could be preyed upon immediately by stray vamps who followed your scent.

Distance would never dampen the love you have for each other.

"I understand if you don't want to come-" Jasper has his phone pressed up against his ear and shoulder as he's shoving papers and folders into his backpack and other items he may need on his journey to South America. There were a few covens there that hey hoped to enlist as help.

"Oh hush Jasper. Of course I'll be there. Both Bella and Renesmee are family. I'll make up for lost time." His stomach warms when he can hear the smile on your lips through the phone speaker "And I think once Caius sees me, he'll convince the others to back down."

That's what the Cullens were banking on with asking you to come and defend your adoptive niece. After all, you were the progenitor of many of the vampires in existence today. Some way or another, they all were sired from your venom. Including Caius. He's been the most doting of your acolytes even if it did tend to cause a rift with the other two leaders of the Volturi. Marcus in particular since you'd defeated him several times throughout the centuries.

Off to the side of the room, Alice rolls her eyes. "See, I told you she'd be down!" She grabs Jasper's phone, monopolizing the call now. "He was worried that he'd be imposing too much on you. I told him that of course you'd help!"

Your laugh on the other end rings loud in his ears as he watches Alice cradle the phone to the side of her face. "You know how he is. My gentleman cowboy." Alice really did enjoy when the both of you ganged up on Jasper to embarrass him. It was delicious to watch him get flustered for once.

Having enough, Jasper snatches back his phone. "Alice and I are heading out soon. I don't know how long we'll be. . ."

"Don't worry. I have my house key. Relax, Jaz. Everything will be okay." If only the one power you did possess was Jasper's ability to control other's emotions, you would use it to calm him. "You two be careful and look out for one another. I'll be there."

God did he want to kiss you. To take you in his arms and let you reassure him in that way only you could. "Yes, ma'am. I love you."

"I love you too." Your voice lowers to a warm whisper.

When the call ends, Jasper stares at his black home screen. He takes a deep breath and shoves it inside his back pocket. Missing you wasn't going to aid him in any way at the moment.

In the background he vaguely makes out Alice's excited chatter, excitement raised her octave.

"I can't wait for Bella and Renesmee to meet her!"

"They're going to adore her."

"Don't you think Jasper?"

"Jasper?"

She actually had to reach out to him and give a small nudge with her index and middle finger. His head whips to her, finally catching his attention.

"Sorry." He mutters having heard none of Alice's rambling.

"You heard her. Why are you so worried? You know that she won't let anything bad happen. The Volturi would be stupid to initiate a fight with her here." She sets aside her own bag she'd been working on and crosses her arms in front of her chest. "We have to pull out our big gun."

"I hate of thinking of her like that. She's been everyone's big gun for centuries." Jasper just sighs and sits down on the edge of the couch, fingers digging into the upholstery. Esme won't be happy when she finds small nail marks in it.

Alice eyes him for a moment before pointing out "You know she'd do a lot more for you if you let her. To her, this is small peanuts." A new thought abruplty comes to her mind as she changes the subject. "You remembered to get those documents for Bella, right?"

In reply, his eyes dart to the manila envelope that lay on his desk. Alice's gaze follows to where Jasper's eyes had fallen. The envelope he'd obtained from J. Jenks. It was to be used under the worst case scenario.

"I hope Bella doesn't have to use it." He admits, hauling his backpack over his shoulders.

Try as she might, Alice couldn't force a vision that involved the outcome of the Volturi's visit. Couldn't even see Jasper's mate. But Alice trusted you, more than any other member of the Cullen coven. She knew you'd pull through, even without the use of her powers, she knew you would not let your family be threatened, even if you had yet to meet the two newest members.

You were forced to miss the wedding of Edward and Bella due to. . . circumstances. Regardless, you had sent them a present accompanied by a letter of congratulations. What better way to meet your sister-in-law and niece than by intervening on their behalf and chasing off the Volturi?

When you'd hung up from talking to Jasper and Alice, you tap the phone against your chin in thought. The room you'd been renting out was lit only by moonlight from outside. This way of living did get awfully lonely. You spoke to your family as often as you could. Visiting every five years at the very least. Thus was the solitary life of an ancient. You'd forgotten much of your early life, couldn't remember if you'd ever been human. There's a slim chance at that. The furthest back you could remember was a world of darkness and other screeching creatures. A small recollection that you'd once had inhuman body. But it felt like a dream, maybe another life completely.

In your long, long life, never did you have anything resembling a family. You were always alone with blood filled thoughts and the feeling you got when you shattered pathetic armies of men.

You changed accordingly as the world evolved as well. The forming of countries. The fall of them. From huts to skyscrapers. You found it almost appallingly easy to get victims if you were already assimilated into their society. They would have no clue of the real monster you were. Not until it was too late.

Then on a whim and also after hearing the bloodshed going on in the states, you met Maria and Jasper. She was pleading her case for revenge against the Volturi and had felt your presence in the vicinity. You'd heard that your scent was unmistakeable.

When you asked Jasper what your scent smelled like, he'd tried his best. "It's the essence of power, my love. There's a deep, heady richness to it. As if it has been steeped in the secrets of the universe. A haunting presence that clings to one's senses."

What would that even smell like? You'd wondered. When you sniffed your arm, all you smelled was the faint kiss of juniper berries.

Maria proposed the take down of the Volturi and how easily it could be done with you. She hadn't anticipated your hesitation. While you didn't agree with the massive coven, you would never go out of your way to meddle with their business. After all, Caius was your fledgling. The very first. Of course you'd be sentimental over him. Sharing your venom was not something to take lightly, at least that's what you thought.

And you doubted Maria's ability of warfare compared to the trio that ruled the Volturi. Her army of newborns was impressive without a doubt, but she was still young herself. You, Marcus, Caius and Aro were overwhelmingly more experienced.

Jasper was just an infant compared to the millenia you've lived or even the hundreds of years Maria may have been alive during. Yet he makes you feel. . . entirely new. Makes you feel something you'd never felt even toward another vampire.

Having never experienced it before, even you knew what it was you were feeling: love. Love at first sight. Quite pathetic but, alas, you have no control over your own emotions. Annoying, but you let yourself fall into it. Titillated by everything you felt when around Jasper Whitlock. Never had you felt so alive. Each kiss, each caress sent flames across your skin. You never knew how dead you'd really been. While you had the face and body of youth, you don't recall a moment where you felt like how you looked now.

You met him during a time where even Jasper was feeling depressed about his immortal life. He was tired of living the way Maria did. Nothing satisfied him. Until he saw you. It was like his heart started beating (but of course that was impossible). Even if she wanted to, Maria didn't fight against it when Jasper told her he was leaving her coven to be with you.

He's been the only one to see the magic you could do without it being stemmed from violence. Real, arcane magic. You'd briefly mentioned the wars you'd been able to win. The amount of people you'd slain. That didn't deter him. That didn't define you.

This is the one battle you would win for love.

Everyone was gathered in the near blinding snow capped surroundings. All except for you. Wolves and the Cullens on one side, black clad Volturi on the other. No one dares to make the first move. All looked to the coven leader, Carlisle, to do the greetings.

He looks to his adopted granddaughter, his family that he built and would do anything to protect. Renesmee beams up at him with apprehensive, big eyes.

Carlisle moves forward, his feet leaving prints in the snow. Aro's skin would have made him blend easily in the blurring snow were it not for his red eyes and black attire. His immortal, handsome face smiles when Aro greets Carlisle.

"Aro, Iet us discuss things as we used to. In a civilized manner." Proposes Carlisle. Hopefully he can take up enough time until you show up.

A dark brow raises on Aro's face. "Fair words, Carlisle. But a little out of place, given the battalion you've assembled against us." His eyes move from Carlisle and scan to behind him where several vampire covens and a pack of wolves wait for the signal to take action.

"I can promise you, that was never my intent. No laws have been broken." True, though the wolves may be a sticky subject to broach. Aro appeared more concerned about the little girl whose eyes bore into the Volturi leader.

Caius' lips curls in disdain. "We see the child. Do not treat us as fools."

"She is not an immortal." Carlisle counters, his arm opening wide to gesture to the Cullens' own army. "These witnesses can attest to that. Or you can look. See the flush of human blood in her cheeks."

While it hadn't been a particularly sunny day, everyone on the frozen field found themselves abruptly bathed in darkness. Above, the clouds had darkened and congregated thickly together. Still, they were able to make out a black shadow among the clouds. Many are left guessing but only Caius and Jasper knew what (or who) it was. Caius' eyes sparkle in veneration as he intently watches his creator break past the clouds with large bat-like wings. You must appear as some twisted angel the way you slowly descend to the ground, landing next to Carlisle.

His smile is bright and screaming relief. "Sorry I'm late." You apologize first to Carlisle.

Jasper catches the flick of your eyes toward him and finally he feels his face release from tension. He takes one step before Alice stops him. While everyone is happy to see you, this was a dangerous environment right now. If Jasper were to suddenly move and go to you, the Volturi might mistake it as an aggressive attack. Best to stay still and watch you take care of everything.

Renesmee grips her mother's leg. Her touch sends her thoughts straight to Bella. "Is she my aunt?"

Bella gapes in shock as your wings appear to shrink until they recoil and disappear completely. Edward had told her you were. . . quite old. Older than any other vampire out there. and that you possessed powers beyond her comprehension.

Stiffly she nods her head at Renesmee.

"Better late than never. It's good to see you." Carlisle pats you on the shoulder.

Before you'd landed, you'd already registered both sides of the battle. You counted how many each had, reveling in the marvel of the massive wolves that stood alongside the covens on the Cullens' side. And you'd seen the girl that was your niece. A unique thing she was. Even from high up in the sky you could see her veins filled with blood coursing inside of her. She was more human than vampire.

The breathy whisper of your name has you turning around to finally look at the Volturi's side. Despite Aro being leader, it was Caius who had called out to you. He always did have a beautifully bright smile whenever he gazed at you. Utterly devoted to his mistress.

You hadn't seen him for near three hundred years. His duties to the Volturi clashed with your values. There was no ill will between either of you though. "Caius. How unfortunate we have to see one another under these circumstances."

"So you know what's going on." Aro tensely holds a grin when he speaks to you. Like you were a ticking time bomb that had to be dealt with carefully. Behind him you didn't miss Marcus who shoots you a glare. He's tasted defeat by you before. It rose up once more in his mouth, bitter.

You casually nod. "I do. The very instant I saw the child, even I knew her to be of mix blood. Can you not smell the blood circulating in her?" Throwing them a condescending smile you continue "But if you truly need proof that she is not an immortal, then read her thoughts."

That had been the Cullen's plans all along. To have Renesmee explain for herself through her thoughts and memories.

Bella didn't like the idea of Renesmee going up to the Volturi by herself. Even worse was the thought that Aro had to actually touch her in order to read her mind. You could smell her apprehension and turn your back on the Volturi to go over to the Cullen's end. You take note of the Romanian vampires shying away from you. You give the members of your family quick embraces before you're brought to where Bella has a protective hand on Renesmee's shoulder. On the girl's other side was a massive rust furred wolf that snarls at you.

You carefully go down to your knees so you could properly address her. "Hi Renesmee. It's nice to finally meet you." Your voice is soft, expression gentle that didn't bely the deadly predator that you could be. Introducing yourself, Renesmee smiles at you; reaching her hand out so that she can introduce herself in her own way. You let her small hand fall upon your cheek and you're pulled into her thoughts.

Happiness.

Curiosity.

Nervousness.

She was aware all of this was her fault. That if the Volturi didn't believe her, so many people she cared about would be killed.

Covering her hand with your larger one, you give her your promise. She smiles knowing it to be true. You drop her hand and stand back up to look at Bella. "Would it be alright if I walk her over?"

Of course you knew that even though you were a Cullen, you were still a stranger. Ridiculous that she was expected to trust you with her child.

But Renesmee touches Bella's hand now. Renesmee trusts you. Bella chews on her bottom lips before relenting. She turns to the wolf. "You should probably stay here, Jake."

Fearlessly, Renesmee walks hand in hand with you to the other end. "Your wings are pretty." The child's thoughts ring in your head.

You tenderly smile at her. "Thank you. Once this is done, I'll take you flying if you want."

Murmurs ripple through the members and witnesses of the Volturi once you present Renesmee to Aro, your protective hand still holding onto Renesmee's. "Well Aro, you want a firsthand recount to her creation. Here she is. Renesmee, why don't you show Aro what you showed me."

Impressed by her fearlessness when Renesmee offers him a smile. Her voice is small but doesn't squeak. "Hello, Aro." Aro offers her his hand but instead Renesmee motions for him to crouch down so she could touch his cheek. The moment her fingers lay against the white flesh, you notice Aro's eyes grow distant.

Then he starts to delightfully. "Magnifico! Half mortal, half immortal. Conceived and carried by this newborn while she was still human." You'd never seen such a sparkle in his red eyes as he now takes in Renesmee for who she truly is. Not a monster that they had feared but just a special little girl.

Behind him though, there were unsatisfied grimaces and wary, darting eyes. This has you inching closer to your niece.

"It's unheard of!" Caius shrieks.

"There are many strange things in this world, Caius. You should know that by now." You patiently tell him. He relaxes at your words, happy enough that his mistress doesn't seem too bothered by this advancement. "Creatures of the deep. Those that lurk in shadows much like us." You momentarily inhale the air, smelling the wolves. "And those who are not what they seem."

While Caius is all too ready to accept the defeat and have the army stand down, Marcus snaps his fingers with the only instruction of "Bring the informer forward."

Ah yes, Irina. You'd met her once, maybe twice. Her expression is dour. If it were possible, she looked even more pale. She didn't have the golden eyes like those on a vegetarian diet. They were pitch black showing that she'd refrained from eating. Irina doesn't meet your gaze, she keeps her eyes gawking at Renesmee before she trains them down to her feet.

Confused by the tension she was feeling from Irina's guilty features, Renesmee sidles up to you; her hands gripping at your warm yarn coat that was just for looks.

"Is that the child you saw?" Marcus inquires.

Her nerves are impossible to conceal in her voice. "I'm not sure. . ."

"That's enough, Marcus. Renesmee's parentage has been cleared." You snap partially to save Irina any further embarrassment. Aro shoots you a look that tells you he didn't appreciate you undermining his authority. "None of your precious laws have been broken here."

Irina's fretful eyes do not lighten up. She knew the mistake she made. While you were more lenient nowadays, the Volturi would not appreciate being made a fool of like this. You could hear the small feet of Jane move as she anticipates the command from her leaders to get rid of Irina. You're fast to correct her with a hiss and baring your teeth. They weren't razor straight like the vampires of today. Your cuspids and lateral incisors were elongated and extremely sharp. Jane's eyes widen in alarm and she teeters on her next step before returning to her brother's side with a scornful glare. As much as she wished, her powers had no affect on you. Maybe in another thousand years Jane would be strong enough to subjugate you with her power. But until then she was but a baby.

Boldly you move toward Irina. While the other Volturi members twitch to move against you, one glare from you was enough to freeze them. Fury simmering in his gaze as he doesn't take his eyes off of you. Gently you take her by the arm. She shoots the Volturi scared looks but ultimately is pulled by you to Carlisle. Before removing your hand from her though, you force her to look you in the eyes.

"You will repent for what you have done. Beg forgiveness from the Cullens." Your whisper is a low one, but harshly hissed as you say it to her. "And remember this, Irina, if you pull a stunt like this again or anything that would betray the Cullens there is no place on this planet for you to hide. I'll give you the most excruciating death that I haven't dealt to anyone in a millennia."

Her throat bobs nervously, unable to rip her gaze from you out of fear. She stiffly nods, understanding that you'd have your eye on her for the rest of her immortal life. Carlisle gets her behind him.

Seeing that she was secured, you move on to your next point of business. "Irina has made a mistake, that is true, but no harm has been done. Whatever damage she's done was more so toward our family's trust in her. That is something we, as a family, will deal with." You nudge Renesmee towards Carlisle and motion with your head for the two of them to return to the Cullen's side of the field. Renesmee tugs a bit in resistance, not wanting to leave you. You pat her on the head as she passes to go with Carlisle. You don't take your eyes off of Aro.

Aro hates how he finds himself flinching a little bit when you consciously oppress him with your superior aura. All of the black clothed figures behind him shiver as well. "We don't know what she will become. The child is sweet and innocent right now. But she is the first known hybrid in creation. We don't know what will happen unless Alice has seen it."

Alice steps up. "It's hard to see the future of Renesmee. Even I cannot see." She'd tried many times to the point of giving herself a raging headache. The girl's fate was too intertwined with the wolves.

Her failure encourages Aro in his argument, you could see his mouth forming a smile that didn't meet his eery, scarlet eyes.

"Then I shall watch over her." The falling of Aro's face is priceless. "Who better to take care of an unknown variable than her very own aunt?" This was to be a discussion with her parents after the Volturi left. But you honestly thought that Renesmee traveling with you was the best option right now. At least until you're certain that she really would do no harm to humans. And she was the first interesting thing to happen to you since you met Jasper.

"You would make her a sanguinovite?" Caius breathes out, eyes jerking from you to Renesmee. Caius and Renesmee would be considered bonded via you as Caius was your apprentice by blood.

"I do."

Caius' shoulders slump. He was forbidden from causing harm against Renesmee.

But that didn't stop Aro or Marcus.

"Let us confer. We will use the facts that we have gathered." Wanting to keep some semblance of authority, Aro doesn't wait to hear your reply as he turns his back to you. At least Caius had enough piety to give you a quick bow before following the other two. Their wives linger behind them with guards encircling around them. Athenodora, Caius' wife, offers you a fleeting smile before whipping her head back at the tug of Sulpicia.

Sighing at the petulant child that Aro was, you walk back to your family who was anxiously waiting. The Denali coven are more concerned with making sure Irina was okay as they fret around her. You catch Tanya scolding her sister with a watery, relieved voice.

Jasper comes up to you and immediately you let go of your big bad vampire facade and melt into his embrace. You cling to him, fingers bunching up the back of his shirt. You allow the soothing of his power to wash over you. "I'm sorry I was late."

He chuckles against the crown of your head, pressing his lips against your temple. "It doesn't matter. You're here." His arms tighten around you.

"I missed you dearly." You whisper against his chest.

"And I you." His nose nuzzles against my face, coaxing a kiss from me.

He'd barely pressed his lips against mine before Edward is clearing his throat. Reminding you and Jasper to keep it cool as there was a child staring at you with large eyes.

Seeing that she has your attention, Renesmee immediately asks "Do you think it worked? Will they go now?"

"They'd be foolish not to." You smile at her.

"Hey, about what you said-" Edward starts but you were already ready to be confronted about the claim you made over Renesmee.

"I know. I should have talked it over with you first and gotten your permission. I'm sorry about that. But it was the only thing I could think to say to prevent violence." You explain.

Bella hooks her arm through Edward's and leans in to him, listening. She was still wary around you. Your scent probably didn't help either. It tend to aggravate other vampires.

Edward sighs, patting Bella's hand softly. "Thank you, by the way. For everything you're doing. I. . . We'll talk about Renesmee being your sanguinovite later. Would you really?"

"Of course I would. I know I haven't been around, but that doesn't mean I love my family any less. You and the rest of the Cullens have been my first and only family. When I married Jasper, I vowed to protect him. Then when we joined you and Carlisle, I promised to defend all that were in our coven for we are all family now." Family. . . Family had never meant anything to you before them. Really, they could tell you to annihilate any coven that threatened them and you would do so without hesitation. They didn't know the extent you would go to assure their security.

He swallows back the emotions that were surfacing across his pale features. "We are all family." Edward whispers, a choke in his tone.

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS! I REFUSE TO BE PART OF THIS!!"

Caius' voice was ear piercing across the frozen expanse of the land. It draws everyone's attention to the opposing side.

That didn't bode well.

Edward hisses something that you don't catch. You're already stomping over to the halfway mark that both had used before.

Don't be fucking stupid Aro. Don't do it. Your mind screams out. If only Aro had the telepathy that Edward did. Don't make me hurt all of you.

A few yards away, Caius and Athenodora are running to you but he's being hounded by fast, Volturi guards.

"CAIUS!!!" Voice booming and ice underneath you shattering completely, you feel your wings shoot from your back and take to the air.

Your ears ring by the velocity you shoot across to get to your first vampire creation. Veins running searingly hot, your eyes glow with an intensity that matches the strength of your magic. It shook the trees that surrounded the glade, shaking the ice until there were splintering cracks surfacing and splitting the ice as you summoned your magic that had defeated many armies before.

The ice around Caius sharply pierces upward, piercing the Volturi guards that were trying to capture him and Athenodora. Dozens of jagged icicles arise from the ground to form a barrier against them.

Through the opening above the barricade, you swoop down and grab Caius and Athenodora. When bolting back into the sky above you could see that your actions had surprised both sides. No one moved an inch for a moment. Not until Aro starts shouting, condemning you as a apostate. That's when the spell cast on both sides was broken and all hell broke loose.

Not wanting to stop, you drop both of them off as close to the Cullen's side as possible. Caius knew he'd have to get out of there the moment his feet hit the ground. It wasn't safe for them here. Not anymore.

Performing a swift u-turn, you're faster than the Cullen horde advancing on the Volturi.

A twitch of your fingers was all you needed to summon half of your power. You call forth the creatures feared by wraiths. The shadows twisted and turned, forming monstrous specters that rose from the ground. Both sides come to a crashing halt at the creatures that were clawing their way from the earth. They glomp on to the nearest Volturi member, their touch much like Jane's power to cause immediate pain. Howls and shrieks erupt from the Volturis, enough to keep the Cullen side at bay. They watch with horrified awe.

Your magic has always been an ancient and violent one. Primal and raw.

A long dead language flows past your lips. The syllables were not ones humans could pronounce. Wraiths grab not just Aro, but the others who possessed special powers that have aided the Volturi in their quest for domination. They're brought forth to you. None are able to use their unique abilities. Not under your suffocating aura that rendered them immobile.

I should have done this a long time ago. You think to yourself. But you're Caius was involved with them. That was really why you kept your opinions about the Volturi to yourself. But now they were an immediate threat to those you care about.

All of them are lined up in front of you, the others being held back by their own wraith captors.

You stare them down ruthlessly, you could feel your form shifting a little to resemble even a sliver of your original form. The rest of your teeth sharpen and form into fine points. Talons larger than any predatory bird out there replace your small, human fingers.

"I was hoping you'd be wiser than this, children." Your voice isn't your's. It belongs to a dark god from a time before humanity was as civilized as it was.

You can taste Aro and Marcus' fear. Tangy but enjoyable to your palate. A taste you miss. You extend your clawed hand toward the Volturi leaders, curved claws glowing with a faint, otherworldly light. One by one, you focus your attention on those that were pushed down to their knees. Each one had used their power to benefit the Volturi. To cast terror among those who refused to bend to their will.

Jane is snarling at you, trying her best to use her pain waves against you but she was as powerless as her brother beside her. Demetri, Renata, even Chelsea were all present.

You rip their powers from them, strip their core of what made them special. Their bodies jerk from your magic penetrating them. Many struggle to no avail. Like pulling an anchor from the depths of the sea, you give a good tug with your claws. Spheres of light that were the embodiment of their abilities. Weakly, Aro attempts to reach for his as it floats from his chest toward you.

Collecting them all, you fuse them together with more ancient words until their combined abilities were formed into an ornate necklace.

You stare at them, useless husks of what they once were. "Do you still wish to continue with your attack?"

They're panting from the pain of a part of themselves being ripped out of them. The other members who were standing in as mere witnesses are already scurrying, getting out of their before your mercy ran out.

"You-" Aro hisses out, clutching at his abdomen.

Teasingly you dangle the necklace in front of all of them. "I suggest all of you go back to your lair. There is no way any of you are getting your powers back any time soon. Trust me, this is me showing kindness that none of you deserve. Let this be a firm reminder to you, that all members of my family are off limits. Know your place."

Aro and Marcus seethe but know the threat behind your words. They were lucky to be leaving with their lives intact.

"Be gone." You growl. "I don't want to have to deal with you again. And if Caius does decide to return to your guild for whatever reason, you are to treat him with nothing but polite civility."

If his looks could actually kill, you were sure Aro would have smite you down in that instant. Alas, he's as weak as any normal vampire now.

"For me?" Renesmee smiles, bewitched by the necklace you offer her.

Everyone was back at the Cullen residence. Some of the other covens, seeing that the conflict was over, went back to their individual countries. The Denali coven were all congregated upstairs while the Cullens were in the living room.

"Who better to have their powers than you?" You place it in her small palms. "You can be the one to decide whether the Volturi are worthy enough to have their powers back."

"That's amazing." Bella breathes, admiring the necklace gifted to her daughter. "All their powers are in there?"

You nod. "Yup. It's a spell I picked up from the Mycenaeans. A little after I'd turned Caius. A fate worse than death for many vampires. As long as you have this, I don't think they'll be causing you any problems. Protect it and keep it safe, Renesmee."

She looks up at you, a worshipper gazing up at their god. "I will."

Standing up, you turn to your mate. "Shall we retire?"

Jasper had been patiently waiting all day to have some alone time with you. Now that the chaos was subsiding, it was the perfect opportunity.

He eagerly takes your hand, making Alice giggle, and the both of you bolt up the stairs to where Jasper's room was. Well, it was your shared room honestly. There were many of your possessions there. Paintings, little bobbles/souvenirs, an authentic Persian rug that you won from a sultan. A lot of your clothes were still hung or folded neatly in the wardrobe.

His pupils are blown out when he looks at you, a black dime cradled in a blanket of gold. "You never cease to amaze me." Hands on either side of your face, he kisses you deeply to further show his devotion. Between kisses, he gasps out praise for your strength, for the power that flowed in you.

You squeal out a giggle, something your enemies would gawk at. You always felt so young when Jasper gathered you up in his arms to transfer you to the bed.

Jasper hovers over you, his blonde hair dangling on either side of his face.

You grin. "Come here, cowboy."

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weirdworldofwinnie · 1 year ago

Text

A Darling Distraction

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader NSFW 18+ only Oneshot

(Mood board by Selene Shelby @forgottenpeakywriter, this fic is especially for you, so I hope you enjoy! Thanks for the initial idea and support💕)

Summary: Robert's been married to you for a while and now in Los Alamos, after the last few years of hard work and a 'successful' Trinity Test, he desperately needs something he won't admit: his wife in pink satin lingerie and sexual stress relief.

Word Count: ~3,703

Warnings: Smut, unprotected and oral sex both ways, light daddy kink + breeding kink, some angst, mention of infidelity, period stereotypical gender roles, unspecified age gap (less than 10 years)

Disclaimer: Obviously NOT historically accurate to real life and is inspired by Cillian Murphy's portrayal of Oppenheimer in the film. It isn't supposed to be in total support and a complete reflection of the man's character, only my interpretation. Scroll away and DNI if you are uncomfortable or take issue with this; it is primarily for entertainment purposes only and it is just fantasy/fiction!

This is strictly a one shot story, no more will be added to it. If you want to read other Cillian!Oppenheimer fanfiction, check out my Masterlist

Tags: @happysparklingshadows (@forgottenpeakywriter wanted me to tag you), @frozenhuntress67, @immyowndefender, @szde8-blog, @bypurple, @irenethewoman, @noirrose21-blog, @gridmouse86

It had been less than 24 hours since the denotation of the gadget and Dr. Robert Oppenheimer's eyes had been engulfed in fire; the aftermath of a hot white flash as bright as a hundred suns blowing out his pupils, followed by a colorful mushrooming cloud that was somehow simultaneously beautiful and horrific. Between the hours before and after Trinity, he had thought of Jean and her influential poetry, and you of course, but now the bomb had become him and only that one vision filled his mind, haunting him.

All day he had been at the lab and offices, but mostly at the main mess hall celebrations that flowed with chatter and too many drinks shared amongst the military and scientists alike whom many believed had been witness to a great success, a miracle, but also the worst of humanity had just been born into creation. Oppenheimer had become what he supposed he had been destined to be all along: Prometheus, doomed to bring great power and advancement to humanity at a steep cost. He was the destroyer of worlds, but not technically yet, and that was the worst of it. The early morning test was exactly that; a trial, a preview of what was to manifest, and very soon would the world get to see such power he had helped birth. He desired peace, but the trick was he was only attaining that through warfare like never before. The stress was far from over and he was afraid to become a nervous wreck by the end of the decade with all these dark pervasive thoughts and doubts. Depression was nigh on the back of pressuring anxiety and there was no way anything would ever be the same again. He had changed, the world had changed, seamlessly overnight.

As he clumsily unlocked the front door to his home with slightly shaking fingers and stumbled inside, reaching up to remove his porkpie hat and hang it up on the coatrack, he called out your name hoarsely. After a beat of listening and there was no response, he sighed... Maybe you'd already gone to bed or were tucking in the children, whatever it was he didn't know and didn't care because he was too wrapped up in his own emotions. He felt ecstatic that all the hard work had come to fruition and they cemented history, but he was also at a paradoxical point of great accomplishment and great moral failure; the duality of man. But most importantly: it worked. Now what they would do with it was another matter he couldn't quit thinking about.

He reflexively twitched for a cigarette in his shirt pocket, but he was empty, so he walked to the bedroom single mindedly and fumbled for a box in the side table, yanking out the drawer and shifting through to pick up a pack of Chesterfield's.

"Darling?"

He jumped, spinning around with a huff and hand on his hip to see you standing in the shadows of the entryway and draped in a pink robe snug around your frame and he noticed your feet were bare as if you'd just been dressing.

"Y/N, I thought you were... Are the children in bed?"

"An hour ago, they were fussy and very insistent with missing Daddy, but once I read to them they finally settled down. You've been absent all day because of the test, what made you actually come home?"

He shook his head, finding relief and refuge in taking a long drag on the cigarette and blowing the smoke out, gesturing at you with the butt of it.

"You brought in the sheets like I told you to?"

"Of course, I knew."

"Good."

He moved to the edge of the bed and sat down heavily, rubbing his forehead and you noticed the tiredness he exuded for a man who usually was so attentive with higher energy levels, and how sunken in and sad his wide ocean eyes were. These past few years had taken a tremendous toll on his wellbeing more than ever... His jutting cheekbones and general gauntness were more pronounced with the unhealthy loss of weight and crinkles of wrinkles were all he truly kept gaining in eventual amounts; crow's feet, forehead lines, nasolabial folds, and etches under his eyes. His dark hair, kept meticulously cut short, was greying at the sides. Even his teeth, if inspected closely, were on a fast track to faintly showing signs of aging decay from all the smoking and drinking he did on a daily basis.

Robert was not the picture, nor rarely the temperament, of boyish youth you remembered from Berkeley.

Truthfully, you and him hadn't had proper sex in many months; it just wasn't very desirable or convenient between his never ending work that created distance between him and anyone who wasn't a scientist, the continuing socializing and parties with many other faces in town, and you personally spending days cleaning up and minding after little (often crying) children who did not have a clue of what their parents were doing out in the middle of the New Mexico desert surrounded by barbed wire fencing and uniformed men always patrolling. Life here was anything but boring, but the bedroom sure had become so. More often than not, Robert couldn't sleep soundly while you kept to your designated side of the bed and tried to ignore his tossing and turnings until eventually he doped himself up on sleeping pills to cope. He also hadn't been the same since the news of Jean Tatlock's passing and you highly suspected - no, knew - he had an affair during his trip to California once he had his security clearance approved. Of course it upset you he could be so idiotic and unfaithful, yet it wasn't shocking given his womanizing track record, but what made you more concerned was knowing how psychologically troubled Jean had been and if Robert thought he could offer her some consolation, he may have just made it worse and partly done her in. If he blamed himself for her death, you couldn't imagine carrying around that kind of guilt in addition to what he spent his time creating to end the war.

He stood now, restless, and began to pace an invisible groove into the flooring as he continually smoked and muttered to himself. You drifted away into the bathroom and shut the door, shrugging off your robe to the floor. You were completely nude underneath, coming off of a fresh bath and you had spritzed yourself with the best perfume you owned, hoping to surprise Robert, but something was clearly missing here.

Yes, and you know obviously what it is. It's his happiness, the spontaneousness that he has lost ever since he ran those calculations and went to Albert Einstein about a chain reaction igniting the atmosphere and blowing us all to bits. It was less than 0.1% chance, but it reminded him of the bigger issue... creating such a weapon with the power to destroy oneself was mighty weighty on any half decent man's conscience and even a rotten one's, for he too would be annihilated in the process if ever taken far enough. Everything these days was pure existential dread, no doubt about that, and no wonder Robert wasn't in the mood for love. His heart was being drained of it daily and you wanted to help, to fill him again even if just for once. It was difficult to watch him continually self-destruct and negatively affect those around him.

So you plucked up the ready matching pink folded satin lingerie he'd gifted you for the fifth wedding anniversary off the countertop and slipped into it, banking on the fact that it made you look sexually irresistible... And oh, it certainly did dial the appeal up to ten. You sauntered out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom where Robert was now seated on the bed, nose deep in a book and paperwork, clearly engrossed and a permanent frown was driven into his skin between his sculpted eyebrows.

"I have something for you, love," you announced softly as you leaned in the doorway, letting your body be on full display in such a loose, risqué little number.

"Hmm?" he murmured distractedly, haphazardly fluttering pages.

"Are you even reading any of that?" you asked flatly and he accidentally dropped it to the floor, hands still quivering and he tried to get up, wavering on his feet as you watched him in a strange state of both nerves cracking and drunkenness. You ached to make him better and by golly, tonight you would even if you had to throw yourself at him.

"Robert, don't you want to look at me? I have a surprise on..."

"I should pick this up and go to bed with a pill," he said to only himself, bending over and scooping the paperwork and book into his arms before standing unsteadily and he turned his back, carelessly dumping the materials onto the side table. You quickly strode up behind him and slid an arm around his waist, fingers drumming on his metal belt buckle splashed with a tinge of turquoise design.

He froze as you wound a bare leg around one of his and he reached behind his back, brushing your scantily clad silky bottom, fingers gliding over the fabric and making you moisten.

"The lingerie, you're wearing it," he stated and you couldn't quite tell if he was delighted by this or not.

"So I am, I know it's been a while since you gifted me with it, so tonight I thought I'd finally return the favor after the amount of stress we've been under, especially you."

"You-you're proposing I need... oh no. No, I don't know if I'm, uh, ready-no, I don't know if I-I can, I mean do-handle it-" he stuttered out and you fought a laugh. Oppie the great improviser, the genius, the man always in control of the proverbial cockpit was ironically clearly not thinking all that straight tonight and for once in his life, absolutely tongue-tied. You may not have much power as a housewife (that earned psychology degree had been so far deemed useless once you moved with him and had children) in this godforsaken place, but you had this way of melting your husband to molten lava that no one else was capable of. His mouth utterly agape, you ran your hands around the leather of the belt and snaked another leg around his, squeezing gently into his side as you put your lips close to his ear, murmuring.

"You know that we both need it, so just let me work my magic like a good old fashioned whore..."

He bristled, catching your hand still fondling his belt and pushing away lightly.

"I would never refer to you as that," he said, completely unamused and perhaps with a veil of disgust too that you thought seemed unnecessary.

"What am I, then, just the stoic scientific director's wife who will be at your side when you receive a Nobel for your work in stopping the world from global conflict with explosions and implosions?"

His sharp jaw clenched and in one swift motion, he abruptly fell over sideways onto the bed and you startled, leaning over and gripping at his shoulder, worried.

"Oh, Robert, are you sick? I was just being a bit sarcastic."

He closed his eyes, obviously in some sort of internal turmoil that didn't merit sharing fully.

"No, I just... We don't need to do this, not now, not when I'm having a pretty bad time. I'm fatigued, probably drunk, and I should talk to the General tomorrow about the schedule. I'll be wanting to fly to Washington soon; the President will be expecting a briefing and they need to determine the exact target and then once it's all over we'll need to settle somewhere else and..."

He began to murmur anxiously about all the engagements he was expecting (postwar and not) and you shook your head, pushing down on his chest.

"But don't you want a distraction, a temporary all consuming joy for one night?" you pressed and he finally looked up at you, really gazed at you, and a genuine buttery smile spread across his mouth.

"Come here, my love," he whispered while tugging at the lingerie panty bow unsuccessfully and you clamored onto the bed beside him. He paused, licking his lips, and then spoke too briskly.

"We'll get straight to it and once I finish, it should help me sleep naturally better than those prescriptions."

You sat up, shoving him playfully and scowling.

"That has to be the least sexist statement you've ever said to me in the bedroom. Don't you want a marathon, not a sprint? Enjoy me, Robert. That's what I'm really here for anyhow, your darling distraction."

He took this in, then rolled over on top of you, his hot alcohol and nicotine infused breath on your cheeks as he breathed heavily, and you made a cringing face.

"How many drinks have you had today? You smell of a bar and I'm thinking you should rinse your mouth out before you get the luxury of having me."

"You do, hm? I guess that's a command, Mrs. Oppenheimer," he smirked and sat up, shoving off to the bathroom and you went to go put on a record on the turntable in the living room. The classical music crackled through and you walked back to the bedroom, laying into a seductive position onto the bed, one leg propped up with a bent knee and your arm draped across the headboard.

When he came back, his eyes widened at the sight of you as though it was finally registering and he wet his lips again, unapologetically hungry. He moved to the bed, shrugging his suit jacket off to drop to the floor, taking off his black tie, and mindlessly undoing the buttons on his white shirt. That was quickly discarded as you waited for him to remove his socks and shoes, pretending to be impatient by switching position to cross your legs and checking your manicure.

"Hurry up, Oppie, I have a time limit here."

He shook his head disapprovingly, kicking the shoes under the bed and whipping off his belt, tossing it to the floor with a clunk before wrestling out of his trousers and you stared at his boxer clad skinny frame, the cock not even engaged yet... Looks like he's making you do all the work again. A petulant sigh escaped when you rolled your eyes and he pointed a finger, chastising.

"Patience, my love. Hasn't Daddy taught you anything at this point?"

You bit your lip as he leaned over and his bare chest collided with yours... You pulled him into an antsy kiss, mouths crushing each other needily and he tasted of tobacco and toothpaste, a strange combination, but better than before. You felt the slight sheen of cold water he had splashed on his skin transferring to yours and you gripped his neck, fingers splaying across the back of his head.

His own hands went to fondle your covered breasts and you pulled away from his kiss for a moment.

"You are divinely doll like in this, I love such feminine expression," he murmured in a kind of rapture.

"Shame it has to be stripped of me," you whispered with raised eyebrows.

"It's only garments, what really counts is here..." He suddenly squeezed both your breasts and you let out a spurt of high pitched noise, allowing him to remove the top, shimming it off your body in one motion and tossing it over his shoulder where the strap caught on the bedpost.

He thumbed over one nipple and then transferred to the other, teasing you to rock hard nubs. He moved to your panty, slipping it down and off to expose you, and you kicked it to the end of the bed. Then, in turn, you yanked down his underwear and his cock sprung out into your ready grip. You began to pump on it and getting him to a more erect state, rising up. He groaned lightly and you pulled the oozing tip to your mouth, parting lips and flicking your tongue out to carefully lick a strip along the length before taking head, making him grow stiffer and wetter by the minute. Your mouth popped of his length, swallowing, and he gripped your waist as he focused hard on you over his throbbing member.

"What do you want, my love? Do you want me?" he whispered huskily and you shivered in anticipated arousal.

"Yes, darling, I want you... I need you, you own me and I own you."

"Sounds like a fair arrangement," he breathed before crushing into you and began to rub, purely animalistic, all over your smooth body. His head burrowed down into your freshly shaved pussy just like how you and him liked it clean, licking at your folds and massaging your lower abdomen in a desperate frenzy. You dug nails into his hair, curling, and bucked your hips to meet his appetite when he slowly slithered on top. You groaned as you took him, all of him, and let his penis expand and stretch out your core to the fullest extent, clenching instinctively around the shaft as he thrust repeatedly until you were sent easily right over the edge in freefall.

"Mmm, Robert!" you squealed in ecstasy and he muffled you, hand slapping down over your mouth and shushing insistently.

"Shh, don't need to wake the children now. God knows they'll find Mommy and Daddy intimately together one of these days and be scarred for life at the sight." He chuckled as you whined behind his palm and grooved further at a pace you both knew very well. After years of marriage and sensual exploration, he knew all your sweet spots and sensitivities, when was too much, and yet it was taking all his self control not to completely plow you apart right now. His skin smacked against yours as he ground into you, hands everywhere at once and he peppered wet kisses all along your jaw to nape.

When his warm cum finally jetted into you, flooding in your cervix fully, you were unable to constrain a loud moan and he growled primally, his whole small frame shuddered through his own climax as you gripped his back, using his boney spine as placeholders for your fingers as he rocked further at a steady pace, not going to come out right away.

More orgasms came fast and one after the other, especially as you rolled over and he took his place beneath and you rode his cock in a fervor, letting the peak hit all over again and he watched in a dazed nirvana as you pleasured. When he finally pulled out from your used leaking hole, you could tell how satisfied he was having been able to hopefully successfully seed you and that signature smugness was so evident.

You laid panting at his side as he took up another smoke, struggling to keep his eyelids from closing and drifting off to sleep. You interweaved legs, soaking wet with combined fluids dripping onto the sheets, and he flit a free finger down to your soaked pussy, groping and nearly overstimulating you with another orgasm you didn't think could be as strong as the first. He grinned at the effect and cupped your mound with his palm, dominant of it as he spoke softly.

"Groves pointed out that I have no knowledge of birth control, which is true. By this rate, you'll be having yet another baby in nine months and I can only hope we are far from this current landscape and political climate then, never to return. You know, I'm hoping for another boy this time."

You sighed with a smile, rubbing your belly and his hand joined yours, rubbing circles over your navel.

"You make a wonderful mother," he commented in praise and you laughed lightly, bitterly, and glanced at him.

"I'm not perfect, I can barely hold it together these days when they're hungry, tired, and upset for no reason I can physically see at all... Sometimes I wish to wring their necks quite honestly. And you're very hardly the model father yourself when you are always away and hardly take care of them. I know the work is everything, but they need genuine paternal love more than your science to save them."

He shrugged, nonplussed, and then set his wispy cigarette to the ashtray before leaning his head against yours.

"We are probably horrible people, but I wouldn't have it any another way. To create life with you is more than I could selfishly do alone, for obvious reasons untold."

You laughed again at his dry humor and intertwined your body with his own, wishing you could crawl inside his skin and live in his bone structure. He was absolutely everything to you, even on bad days, and maybe his prestige and stability contributed to that, but there was real love underneath his flaws.

"Whatever you face, I'll be here to try to mitigate it," you whispered seriously and he nodded, appreciative.

"I trust you and I love you, Y/N. It won't get easier for me, for us, and I'm afraid the future may be as horrifying as I imagine it."

"That's why we have sex, to stave off the inevitable for a little while," you told him, tears pushing out and slipping down your cheeks. He caught one with his finger and wiped it clean off, staring at the translucent wet spot at the tip of his fingernail sadly. It wasn't unusual for you to weep after sex, but this felt different.

"Kiss me," he murmured and you leaned forward as he grabbed the back of your head and smooshed in, tongues writhing together for a few seconds before you both pulled away, breathing in the same air together.

"Tonight is good enough for me," he decided and you snuggled into his neck, closing your eyes to succumbing exhaustion.

In an uncertain frightening world full of variables, you vowed to be his one constant for life.

Thanks for reading 🖤

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