#Auditory escape

[beaufadi]

Chillout Downtempo Sessions #2

Escape into Serenity 🌄 Get ready to unwind and elevate your mood with Chillout Downtempo Sessions #2! 🌅 This playlist is your perfect companion for relaxation, introspection, or simply soaking in the calm moments of life. ✨ Featuring artists like Tycho, The Chemical Brothers, Saint Etienne, and Boards of Canada, this playlist blends iconic sounds with hidden gems. Let tracks…

[roxannepolice]

My brain is still rotten by the Gay Noir 50 Shades of Saxon (I have spilled over 6000 words about it after all!), because now I'm thinking that U2 has a freaking Batman song Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me and look, the Master was 100% dragging terrified rockstars to give him private concerts on the Valiant so yes, he absolutely danced a grotesque tango full of backdips with stone faced centenarian Ten in front of Francine Jones, Lucy and Bono.

Also, if BBC weren't cowards, there would be a scene of depressed Twelve sitting hunched by the Vault doors and playing Velvet Underground's Venus in Furs (strike, dear mistress, and cure his heart) on his guitar.

[theprissythumbelina]

I don't even have that going for me

i have no idea what's going on in my life im just in charge of the music

[blog-o-meter]

Room 5 - Nicholas Alexander Chavez x fem!reader

summary: (Y/N) escapes to a quaint little hotel by the beach for a few days. On the first night, she realizes that the hot guy in the neighboring room is a... loud guy, and she finds that she can't seem to escape him no matter where she goes.

warnings: 18+, voyeurism (auditory), self-masturbation, fingering, unprotected p in v, cursing

required listening: 24 Hours by Sky Ferreira

word count: 17,415

a/n: sorry this one is so long (compared to my other fics), but I just had too much fun writing this one. I honestly could've gone writing more. If anything, I can just add on, but I think I wrapped a nice, little bow on this one. I hope you guys like it, and I would appreciate any and all feedback!! pls enjoy :) edit: I continued the story in a sequel of sorts, which you can check out below!

Making Room (Part 2) | Room On Fire (Part 3) | Room To Breathe (Part 4)

reblogs and likes are appreciated and lets me know if you'd like to see more!

The boutique hotel looked absolutely adorable, white brick on the outside and only two stories — a tiny café and gift shop downstairs and the rooms up top, just steps away from the ocean. It sat between two tall condo buildings, which mostly housed an older crowd of out-of-state tourists.

I was in search of the perfect place for a weekend getaway, and this place seemed to check all the boxes. It wasn’t near any of the busy beach accesses where all of the rowdy high schoolers seemed to hang out at, and the pictures of the café seemed like it was straight out of an interior designer’s Pinterest board. This place, The Pearl, seemed perfect.

Actually, I had been looking forward to this weekend for a long while, having booked this trip about a month ago. Funnily enough, I lived just 30 minutes away from the beach but never had the time to just get away for a couple of days — until now.

After I checked in, I carried my weekend bag and backpack up the narrow staircase to the second floor, the wood creaking underneath my sandals. When I turned on the mid-level landing, that’s when I heard a second set of footsteps coming down from above. I turned my head up, my eyes falling on the drop-dead gorgeous man carefully shuffling down the steps.

Our shoulders brushed as I squeezed by with my luggage, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver that branched out from where our arms grazed.

“Sorry,” I whispered without missing a beat.

The guy smiled politely as he turned his head back, his big, brown eyes inviting, “You’re good.”

My heart skipped a beat hearing his warm, low voice. The stranger was ridiculously attractive, his muscles bulging out of the wife beater covering his torso, his tousled brown hair elegantly falling over his eyebrows. His smile, though, was what made my skin prickle — a wide, genuine grin that showed off his perfectly white teeth behind his pink lips.

I returned a polite smile, continuing my journey up the stairs before he could notice my blushing cheeks. When I arrived to the top of the landing, I saw that the second floor was T-shaped, the rooms in ascending order the further I walked down the hallway.

I turned the corner, immediately sensing the change in atmosphere compared to the row of rooms I had just passed. This section of the hallway seemed much more secluded, quiet, possibly because, indeed, it was in its own corner of the floor away from all the other rooms.

I passed by the one other door in the hall, reaching my room — 6 — at the end where a singular window accented the softly-lit hallway. Setting my bags down, I fumbled for my phone, scrolling through my text messages with the hotel manager for the code to my door. I appreciated the fact that the rooms had a code to enter instead of a plastic key card that I could lose in the sand.

As I input the code into the lock, the wooden staircases creaked as a set of footsteps became louder and louder making their way toward me. It was the same handsome man I had brushed shoulders with earlier, a backpack slung over his shoulder as he approached the only other door, room 5.

Our eyes met briefly, a flicker of recognition in his. “Good night, neighbor,” he said with a slight nod, that same smile that made my chest warm flashing across his face as he made his way inside his room, the heavy door falling closed behind him.

I let go of the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. What are the odds the hot guy and I were staying next to each other? 1 in 5 it seems.

Shaking off the butterflies fluttering around my stomach, I finished inputting the code and dragging my bags inside the freezing room, stopping to admire the details of what my hard-earned paycheck had managed to spoil me with. The room was quaint, a neutral island color palette — the large bathroom and queen-sized bed to my right and the 70” flatscreen tv and closet on the shared wall to my left, a built-in marble counter all along the bottom.

The bathroom was my favorite: an art-deco flair with hints of coastal influence. The full shower was astounding in the best way possible — a beautiful mosaic pattern along the whole wall, double shower heads on opposite ends, and with enough space to possibly fit maybe 5 people. I could literally walk about ten steps between the two shower heads.

I walked back out to the room, setting my bags on the counter and starting to unpack, not in any particular rush to venture outside. As I organized my stuff — bikinis, pajamas, toiletries — I turned on the tv, flipping through channels and settling on HBO, Black Swan playing a few minutes in.

Enthralled by the movie and remembering I had a few snacks in my backpack, I changed into my pajamas and dug out a box of Lady Godiva chocolates from my backpack, climbing into bed and stretching out my arms and legs, excited to start my weekend getaway.

At some point, I had drifted off with a chocolate in my hand only to be awoken by a sound. I didn’t know what it was at first, choosing to ignore it and keeping my eyes closed, hoping I’d drift back to sleep. But it persisted, and it wasn’t a sound I had expected to hear — a woman’s moans.

My eyes fluttered open, thinking it might’ve been coming from the tv. After all, Black Swan did have a sex scene. However, I found the tv to be off. Maybe I had forgotten I turned it off myself before drifting off to sleep. Then, a low, drawn-out groan rumbled through, clear as day.

Oh.

Oh.

My cheeks flushed, burning at the realization of what I was hearing. I mean, I know a boutique hotel might not have the same amenities as a more established hotel chain, but you’d think thicker walls would have been a forethought. How could somebody planning to open a hotel not have thicker walls?

Again, I heard the moaning, and there was only one other room in the hallway that they could be coming from — room 5, the hot guy. I sat up in bed, heart pounding as I processed what was happening in the room behind the tv. The sounds were so clear you’d think they were having sex in the hallway.

In fact, I thought just that. There was no way that was happening right? I walked up to my room door and carefully peeked my head out, finding the hallway empty.

I retreated back into my room, my heart racing. Any other person would’ve probably turned the tv back on, or put on some headphones, something to block out the sounds, but what I did, I couldn’t tell anyone else about. I stood frozen, listening. I listened past the rhythmic porn-like moaning of the faceless woman, instead focusing on the low rumble of the hot neighbor guy’s voice.

The closet that shared a wall with his room beckoned my name, tempting me to inch closer. Before I knew it, my bare feet were shuffling toward the closet door, quietly swinging it open. The space was small, just big enough to fit a luggage rack and a few hangers up top, but the rhythmic thumping and guttural groans just behind the plaster called out to me.

Carefully, I leaned over the luggage rack, pressing my cheek against the cold, white wall. Every sound was clearer now — the creak of the bed slowing to a stop, the huffing coming from my neighbor, and the yelps coming from the mysterious lady. I could even make out some words.

“Bend over,” my neighbor spoke, his voice deep and seductive.

My stomach twisted hearing him speak in such a commanding yet intimate manner. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that a stranger so polite in passing could be so primal behind closed doors; though, wasn’t everyone?

“You’re so huge, Nicholas,” the mystery lady spoke back.

I know I shouldn’t have been listening, but I was just so enthralled. Did they know just how thin the walls are, assuming they’d block out most sound like I did? I couldn’t imagine someone knowing the walls were thin and still choosing to have sex, especially knowing there was an occupied room next door.

The plaster was cool under my cheek, refreshingly so as I could feel myself becoming warmer and warmer. The sounds of their erotic encounter seemed to vibrate through the wall, through me. Without noticing, I had squeezed my thighs together, my hand finding its way at the band of my pajama pants. As soon as I felt my fingertip slip under my underwear, I was jolted out of my trance. What was I doing?

Before I could feel any more guilty for lingering longer than I should’ve, I pulled myself away from the wall and scampered back toward the bed, choosing to ignore what was going beyond next door, my heart racing. Grabbing my headphones from my nightstand and slipping them on, I threw myself into the sheets and turned on my white noise playlist. But as much as I forced myself to focus on the therapeutic noise, my imagination wandered, picturing the faces my neighbor — Nicholas — might be making right now as he pleasured the woman accompanying him. Before I knew it, though, I had managed to fall asleep.

In the morning, I made my way down the staircase to the hotel’s tiny café, eager to start my day with a light, sweet breakfast. As I descended down the last few steps, I looked over to the sea of tables, hesitation in my heels as my eyes landed on Nicholas sitting by his lonesome as he enjoyed a cup of steaming coffee in one hand and a beat-up book in the other.

Swallowing the thought of what I did, and listened to, last night, I walked past him and approached the café counter, the smell of warm croissants and muffins enveloping my nostrils, a temporary distraction that I was grateful to experience.

“Hi,” I politely smiled to the employee, “Can I just get an Italian crème croissant with a hot green tea, please?” I quietly asked, not wanting to interrupt the quiet, calm atmosphere for the patrons of the café. 

The barista nodded her head, inputting my order into the tablet register, “We’ll send it over to your table,” she smiled.

I slipped her the money for my breakfast, smiling, “Thank you so much,” and making my way through the slew of empty tables.

I settled in at the corner table on the opposite end of the room, wanting to be as far away from Nicholas as possible to avoid any awkward conversations. Though, I may have chosen the worst table for my plan, accidentally giving myself a clear, unobstructed view of Nicholas from across the room.

His hair was damp, not purposefully styled in any particular way but still somehow falling over his eyebrows in such a perfect manner. He wore a loose flannel with a few buttons loose, the shirt billowing open to tease just enough of the gold cross chain draping over the sculpted valley between his chest.

He hadn’t noticed me yet, completely enthralled by what he was reading — Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller. I was stunned by his choice of literature. There was an old fellow a few tables down reading the newspaper to get his local news, meanwhile this guy, Nicholas, was probably on some page where the author is describing, in excruciating honesty, a night he had with a prostitute just as easily as one could describe their morning routine. In a way, I was impressed, curious.

As I waited for my breakfast, fiddling with my fingers, occasionally looking at my phone, my eyes would glance over toward Nicholas, my gaze lingering just a beat too long. The way he achingly turned the page, the tip of his finger playing at the corner of the paper, or the way he’d carefully bring the mug of coffee up to his lips — it was all so titillating.

Thankfully, though, the barista came over with a small pot of piping hot tea and my croissant, interrupting my trance and carefully setting down the items in front of me. Just as she left, my eyes flickered up to Nicholas to find that he had glanced up from his book, a polite smirk at the corner of his lips when his eyes met mine, lifting his mug in a silent, “Cheers.”

Not sure if I should wave or say hi or flash a toothy smile, I settled for a polite closed-mouth smile, lifting my mug back at him before quickly focusing my attention to the food in front of me as my cheeks grew warm. The greeting wasn’t graceful at all, but how could I focus on being graceful knowing I eavesdropped on his privacy just last night? If I was awkward at all, I figured it was my subconscious trying to punish me.

I served myself some tea and picked at my croissant as I looked out the window to the occasional family or couple walking down the street, all carrying their beach items and taking their time to get to the sand. I’d even glance around to the other patrons at the café. Though, I think part of me wanted to see if any of the girls would join Nicholas at his table and reveal herself to be the high-pitched moaner from last night. However, nobody ever did join him. Was he here alone? Or maybe she had taken the morning to be by herself.

Every impulse in me was begging me to take just one more look at Nicholas, to savor his image one last time, but I fought it. Everything except anything in Nicholas’s direction became intriguing to me. The checkered tile on the ground, the promotional poster on the window that I could barely read because of the sunshine striking through it, the older fellow enjoying his newspaper — I didn’t think I’d find myself focusing on the details of such things trying to avoid the gaze of some guy I had talked to for no more than 10 seconds, maybe less.

When I finished up, I quietly tidied the table, collecting all of the dishes and brushing off any crumbs, making my way out of the café and toward my car.

The breeze was refreshing, a nice whisper against my cheeks. I opened the trunk, staring at all of the beach gear I had to carry by myself. It was a struggle, but I managed to carry everything in both my arms — umbrella, picnic, basket, beach chair, headphones, blanket — using every crevice of my upper body to anchor something to me so it wouldn’t fall on the way over.

Thankfully, the beach access was right next to the hotel, and the path to the open sand wasn’t too long. When I got to the end of the path, I was grateful for having woken up early for the opportunity to pick a spot in an otherwise empty beach, a few umbrellas and chairs here and there from the condo occupants. I chose a spot that didn’t have any people too close by for maximum relaxation, carefully setting everything down on the sand.

I stabbed my pink, frilly cabana umbrella into the ground, laying out my beach blanket and beach chair in the shade, sliding everything else onto the corners of the blanket so the breeze wouldn’t pick the fabric up and blow sand toward me.

The water was calling my name, the light green water perfectly sparkling against the morning sun. But before I could strip my clothes off and jump in, I looked around to see if anybody would be looking as I pulled off my clothes. I didn’t see anybody particularly interested in my arrival, so I quickly pulled off my jean shorts and tee to reveal my glittery brown bikini set underneath. Before I became too hyper aware of my body, I walked toward the water, instead letting the feeling wash over me just as the waves of deliciously cold seawater did.

The occasional squawk of seagulls, the sun warming up my skin as it rose higher and higher in the sky and the sound of the waves crashing was all perfect. This moment was all I wanted out of this weekend. No distractions, no work — just me and the ocean. Needless to say, I was very excited to be able to repeat this routine for the next couple of days. 

I continued walking into the water until I was chest-deep to let the ocean devour me whole. The feeling that a wave could crash over me entirely was exhilarating. The water slowly picked me up by my feet as I hopped around.

I lingered for a few more minutes in the water, splashing water around or searching for little fish before stepping back out once my fingers started to wrinkle. As I strutted out of the water, though, I saw the familiar shape of somebody relaxing in a chair just a few feet next to my umbrella — Nicholas.

I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, he was a guest in the hotel, too, after all. Why else would someone book a room in a hotel by the beach if they wouldn’t find themselves relaxing in the sand? But did he have to set up next to me when there was an entire football field of available space?

Meekly and careful not to trip or stumble on the way over, I walked toward my umbrella, fighting the urge to steal a glance at Nicholas, but from the corner of my eye I could see he sat there with his chest exposed. I had to let myself give in; what was the harm in a little peek?

He sat reclined in his chair, his skin deliciously glistening under the killer sun as he took it in. His hair was lightly brushing across his face from the sea breeze, like Mother Nature herself was playing with his hair. Nicholas’s long legs stretched out in front of him, his feet digging slightly into the sand. Both hands rested lazily on the arm of the chair, open. It was like he wanted to take up as much space as he could. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes; I couldn’t tell where he was looking or if he was looking anywhere at all. He radiated a kind of tranquility, as if the ocean had washed away any burdens he carried, something I hoped to experience myself this weekend.

I realized I was staring, my breath caught somewhere between awe and curiosity. I darted my eyes away, afraid I might be caught, which is absolutely the last thing I want.

Growing cold from the breeze brushing my wet skin, I grabbed my towel, drying myself off and squeezing the water out of my hair, mindful of turning myself from Nicholas so as to not flick any water droplets his way or have him think I was trying to grab his attention deliberately. Maybe he just sat there without knowing he had set up next to me. After all, I was in the water this entire time.

As I settled in, I brushed my wet hair over the back of my chair and reached for my picnic basket, pulling out my headphones, sunglasses, and my current read, White Oleander. I didn’t want to distract myself with any energetic music, instead opting to listen to the White Oleander movie soundtrack for the perfect accompaniment to the book.

I read through the chapter I had left off in, but I found myself having to reread some paragraphs, even entire pages, every time I saw Nicholas shift in his seat from the corner of my eye every few seconds. Even the way he jittered his knee up and down was distracting, almost like he wanted to grab my attention. After some minutes, he stood up from his chair, letting out a groan as he slowly stretched his arms and walked toward the water, and I silently thanked the universe for finally letting me have a few minutes to myself.

Though, I couldn’t help but occasionally glance up from my book to observe Nicholas in the water. The sun accentuated his muscles in an almost picturesque way, the stark shadow falling under each crevice of his body perfectly. He cut through the water like a knife as he walked deeper and deeper in the water, splashing water over his chest and shoulders, eventually dipping himself under the water to wet his hair. When he reemerged, the surface broke with a powerful splash, Nicholas throwing his head back and brushing his hair back with his hands.

Shaking myself out of Nicholas’s trance, I buried myself back in my book, trying not to look back up to him and letting myself get lost in the story, and for a while, I did. However, the universe seemed to like playing cruel jokes. About two chapters later, a shadow crossed my face. Curious to know if it was a bird or somebody’s umbrella flying away, I looked up to find Nicholas standing in front of me with a small grin.

“Good book?” He asked, drying his hair with a towel.

Shocked, I almost couldn’t form any words, but I managed to spit out a normal-sounding sentence, “Uh, so far, yeah, but I’m more familiar with the movie.”

“I’ve never seen it,” he confessed, dragging the towel up and down his dripping torso, almost deliberately. “Do you recommend it?”

I was quiet first, trying to clear my head of any thoughts of the night before that kept replaying in my mind. My eyes drifted up from his torso to the smile on his face, his straight white teeth in full show. Thank god I had my sunglasses on

“Totally. The dialogue in that movie is…” I trilled my lips, searching for the right word, “poignant.”

“Sounds raw,” he threw the towel over his shoulder, resting his hands on his hips, his lat muscles flexing outward like wings. “Is it your favorite movie?” He asked as he sat down in his chair, shifting until he found a comfortable position.

“One of,” I replied, turning my head to face him.

“I’ll check it out then,” he smiled, grabbing Tropic of Cancer out from under his chair and spreading it open.

“There’s a movie on that one, too,” I pointed to the book in his hands.

“Really?” He cocked an eyebrow, looking at the cover of the paperback, like he had forgotten what book he was reading. But then, a cheeky grin grew on his lips, “Did you like it?”

I couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle, knowing what Nicholas had meant. “I wouldn’t know; I’ve never seen it,” I smiled, turning my head back to the book in my hands, having almost forgotten about it.

All I heard back from him was a quiet chuckle before he settled back into his chair, the both of us reading their respective books.

After a half hour, I tossed the book and my sunglasses back into the basket and walked out over to the water. I paused at the dry edge of the sand, letting the water nip at my toes, trying not to picture Nicholas behind me. He could have been glancing at me as I made my way over, but he could also be looking at the sky, or the book in his hands, or maybe even his phone. As much as I wanted to peek over my shoulder, I continued forward, letting the sea swallow me.

I lingered, brushing my fingertips over the surface as I planted myself in knee-deep water, clutching the sand underneath my toes as it dissolved under me. As the water hugged my calves, I searched the water for anything I could find — maybe a lost pair of sunglasses, some little fishes, or maybe a conch laying at the bottom of the ocean floor. To no avail, I slowly started to retreat from the water, picking my head up to find Nicholas was looking forward, hiding behind his sunglasses again.

I didn’t let the fact he was looking over to my direction affect my ability to walk properly. After all, he could be looking past me. Maybe under those sunglasses he had his eyes closed. I wouldn’t know. However plausible any of those situations were, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.

Upon approaching my chair, I wrapped myself in the damp towel, deciding that my time at the beach for today would be over for now. Slowly, I started to pack up my things, but I honestly didn’t know how I was gonna carry everything back now that I was damp and shivering. I tried juggling some of the things in my arms, but occasionally something would slip from my grasp. I really tried not to seem so helpless, but when the umbrella slipped out from under my arms with a loud thump, I knew keeping up that ruse wouldn’t work.

“Need help?” I heard Nicholas’s voice behind me.

I turned around, catching him push his sunglasses to the top of his head to show off his crinkled eyes, smiling. It seemed to be more from amusement at watching me struggle, not smiling from politeness.

I struggled to hold onto everything in my arms, “No,” I shook my head, laughing nervously. “I mean, I managed to bring everything over in the morning.”

An exhale escaped his lips before he tossed the book to the sand and stood up from his chair, making his way over with a satisfied look, “Let me help.”

I bit my lip, debating if I should let him help or to just push him away so I wouldn’t have that constant reminder of hearing him have sex in my head. Before I could answer, though, Nicholas grabbed the beach chair out from under my arm and picked the umbrella up off the floor.

“Thank you,” I mumbled as I adjusted the remaining items in my arms, now much more manageable without having to carry the bigger things.

“No problem,” he spoke in a low tone, that same tone I overheard when he said ‘Bend over’ to the woman in his bed last night.

My breath caught in my throat. Suddenly, I felt inexplicably warm, like the back of my neck was on fire. His expression was soft, casual, like the same man I had run into in the hallway yesterday, not at all like the man I heard in his room in a false sense of privacy.

We walked back toward the hotel, the sand kicking up behind us with every step. I was too afraid to say anything to him at all after remembering the way he spoke to his late night companion.

“So, are you from around here?” He spoke up, his voice cutting the tension that only I seemed to be aware of.

“Kind of,” I replied, hiding my face behind my damp hair, “I live 30 minutes out. I just came here on a solo-trip for a few days to escape. You?” I didn’t expect the question to slip from my lips, but in a way, I guess, I wanted to coax information out of him. Maybe if I knew more about him, that pang of guilt in my stomach would leave on its own.

He stifled a chuckle, “Not at all. I’m from Colorado, actually.”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised at the answer, “Wouldn’t California beaches be closer to you, maybe even look better than this old shore?” I looked back out into the beach, admiring its charm, but even then, I know it wouldn’t compare to a California beach.

“Actually, I live in LA, so I go out there all the time. I guess, I just wanted to visit a different place,” he answered.

I was surprised at his honesty, but I scoffed, not believing that any person from out of town would want to come here willingly, “Well, you picked a different place, indeed. Not much goes on around here, except when it’s spring break.”

Nicholas stifled a warm chuckle, “Yeah, I think I read that online.”

A part of me wanted to prod. Was he single? Who was that girl from last night? Another guest? The only appropriate question that I could think of that didn’t sound too suspicious was, “Are you here on a solo-trip, too?”

He nodded his head, “Yeah, I do a lot of solo travel. There’s a certain freedom in not having to worry about anyone else except yourself.”

I glanced over to him and saw a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he looked over to me. Something fluttered in my chest, or maybe it was just the droplets of water trailing down from my head.

“Sounds liberating,” I managed to spurt out before the long pause became too awkward.

“It is, but sometimes it’s nice to share it with someone else, even for a little bit,” he said, his words hanging in the air.

I didn’t dare reply. I wasn’t sure if he was alluding to our current moment or maybe to the similar encounters of last night he has with women during his trips. Of course, there’s no way he’d know that I knew what he did behind closed doors, but what if he did?

“Yeah,” I absentmindedly agreed to his statement, eager to cut the conversation short.

We arrived at my car. I opened the trunk with my keys that were in my picnic basket, watching as Nicholas bent over to place the umbrella and chair inside, then grabbing everything from my arms and setting them beside each other, closing the trunk.

“My name’s Nicholas,” he held his hand out for me to shake.

That’s when I realized that he had never introduced himself. The only reason I knew his name was because I had my ear pressed against the wall just as his lady friend from last night had moaned it out of her lips.

I hesitated for just a fraction of a second before breaking through that one-sided tension and reaching out to shake his hand, his warm palm sending a shiver up my arm, “(Y/N),” I introduced myself, meeting his gaze for a second or two before looking down at my feet.

“Pretty name,” he smiled.

Blushing, I shyly said, “Thanks,” retreating my hand from his grasp and whipping back a strand of wet hair behind me.

Nicholas lingered a moment longer, the soft curve of his smile inviting me to hold his gaze. “Any chance you’d wanna get a drink later?”

I blinked, my mind scrambling for a response as the question hung between us. This stranger, Nicholas, was never meant to be more than just some nameless blur that happened to also be a guest at the same hotel I was staying. We were only supposed to bump into each other a few times in the hallway, never going into conversation and being fine with that. Now, here he was, asking me if I wanted to have a drink with him.

I kicked my feet nervously, looking down, afraid to look him in the eye as I turned down his offer, “Actually, I have plans.”

His brow lifted slightly, an amused look on his face. “Solo plans?” he asked, clearly poking fun at my earlier words.

I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, despite my nerves. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Fair enough,” he said, his tone casual but with a glimmer of understanding. “But if you change your mind…” he leaned in the tiniest bit, some tiny droplets from his hair dripping onto my skin, “you know where I’m staying,” a mischievous smirk at the end of his lips.

I felt my stomach jump at his words, catching the double meaning. He lingered a bit too long, like he was testing me, before he pulled back, still smirking.

I nodded, “Yeah, I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”

I watched as he walked past, sauntering back toward the beach. The way his shoulders shifted as he walked, relaxed yet deliberate, made it impossible to look away. The nerve of him, the audacity to be this calm, this magnetic. Maybe it’s because I’m never forward with people I just met, especially if I think they’re attractive, but I couldn’t wrap my head around the swagger Nicholas oozed. It was like he was aware of the effect he had on me.

Desperate to wash away the sand in my crevices, I trotted toward the hotel entrance, going up the stairway and to my room. I felt relief when the cold air of the room hit my face, pulling my hair away from the back of my neck so the air could creep its way and bring some relief to my flustered self. My head buzzed, replaying anything having to do with Nicholas — the way he dried his towel in front of me, his soft chuckles, even the way he walked.

Get it together, (Y/N). He’s just a guy. Just a guy you won’t see ever again after this weekend. Ever.

I sighed, dragging myself to the shower and stripping the wet bikini off my body and letting it fall to the floor without a second thought.

I was grateful the shower was huge, that way I didn’t feel as suffocated with the warm water steaming up the glass. However, each time I closed my eyes to let the water fall on my face, all I could picture was Nicholas’s charming smile, all I could hear in my head was the way he said ‘Bend over’ to the girl in his bed last night, and suddenly, I could feel a tension pool low in my belly.

Fed up, I turned the faucet knob to cold, shuddering and gasping loudly the moment it fell down my spine. It might’ve been drastic, but it did help. All I could focus on was trying not to tremble under the cold stream of water enveloping me instead of focusing on a certain man.

Once I was done with my shower, I wrapped my hair and body in a towel each, padding out into the cold room, my ankles shuddering at the cold floor beneath me. I changed into a casual set of clothes, thinking I’d probably go out for a walk later. As I dried my hair with the towel, I made my way over to the window, looking out toward the beach to see Nicholas still lounging out in the sand. He was splayed out on the chair, legs wide open as he leaned back and looked out into the water.

Tired of my mind drifting to him, I jumped into bed and put on my headphones, opening up Hulu to catch up on shows. Before I knew it, hours had gone by and it had become nightfall.

I walked to my luggage resting on the built-in counter, zipping it open to pull out a bag of chips I had bought before arriving. That’s when I heard a light knock on my door. I froze at the sound, too scared to shuffle over and check who it was.

“(Y/N), you there?” I heard Nicholas’s voice call out. I didn’t answer, standing still, my heart almost pounding out of my chest. “If you are, I’m heading over to the bar across the street, if you wanna join me,” he calmly spoke through the door, his voice cool and collected.

After a bit, I heard his feet shuffle away, becoming fainter and fainter. I still didn’t dare move an inch, paranoid he might’ve pulled a fake-out and is actually still standing outside my door. I sat on the counter, debating his invitation, but I decided against it. I’m not exactly sure why; any other girl would already have been out the door by now. I just had to trust my gut on this.

Later that night, at about 1:30AM, I found myself still awake, quietly scrolling Instagram on my phone. That’s when I heard the loud giggles of a woman outside in the hall, followed by a deep shush, the giggles falling to a quiet mumble as I heard a door open and quickly fall closed. I ignored the sounds, continuing to scroll and catch up on posts I missed during the day.

Some minutes pass by, about 10. That’s when I heard the bed on the other side begin to thump against the wall, a lady slowly starting to moan. The moans sounded different, belonging to another woman. Then, the all-too-familiar grunts coming from Nicholas started to join in.

I couldn’t reach for my headphones to drown out the sounds of sex coming from the other side; my headphones had died just 30 minutes earlier, now charging on the outlet above the counter. Tossing and turning in bed, I burrowed myself under the covers, hoping it would make some barrier, but to no avail.

Irritated, I walked over to the counter, checking to see if my headphones had any juice that I could use even for just a few minutes until I fell asleep. Just as I reached to disconnect them from their charger, that’s when I heard Nicholas’s voice rumble through the wall.

“You’re so hot,” he said, his tone thick with pleasure.

I stood there frozen, my hand still hovering over my headphones. The more I heard Nicholas speak, the more I found myself inching closer toward the closet. My heart was racing, beating faster the moment I opened the closet doors, carefully stepping inside and resting my cheek against the shared wall.

I knew I shouldn’t have been listening in, again, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was this urge that I had to follow through with. I closed my eyes for a moment, listening past the girly moans and searching for Nicholas’s voice. My chest grew tighter, my thoughts beginning to spiral.

“Just like that,” he growled.

Had I said yes to drinks, would that have been me in there? Would I be the one moaning under him instead of the mystery girl inside? My stomach tightened at the thought, frustrated. I’m not sure why I was letting it get to me like that. Maybe because hindsight is always twenty-twenty. But just knowing that it might’ve been me Nicholas said all those things to had I just agreed to drinks… It drove me crazy.

“Say my name.”

My body tensed at his words. Somewhere between spiraling and intrigued by the events happening on the other side, I had closed my eyes, achingly moving my hand to my shorts, slipping it under the waistband. What if I just pretended it was me he was saying all those things to?

I clenched my teeth, feeling a heat bubbling low in my belly as it slowly rose up to my chest. The sound of Nicholas’s voice; he sounded so close yet we were separated by this thin wall. It was maddening. I slipped my fingers under my underwear, grazing them over my damp self. I covered my mouth with my other hand, proactive about not wanting to be heard from the other side just as I heard them.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Nicholas groaned on the other side.

My breathing became deep, my nostrils pushing out all the air that couldn’t leave my mouth. As my fingers found my throbbing bud, I quietly whimpered out, pretending Nicholas was saying those words to me. I rubbed myself in small circles, bucking my hips into my fingers.

On the opposite side of the wall, Nicholas’s groaning had become guttural, primal. The more the headboard thumped against the shared wall, the more powerful his movements had become. At one point, I thought something might fall off the wall from my side of the room.

As I slipped a finger, then another, inside myself, my breathing became erratic. I imagined Nicholas taking me, right now as I am, hard at the thought that I had been listening in on his sexual escapades. Maybe he’d push me up against the wall, cornering me so that I might not escape him. He seems like the type to want to be in control, and I’d be happy to give it to him.

I pumped my fingers slowly, at first, but then picked up the speed to match the thumping on the wall. The tension in me began to build tighter and tighter. I was so close to collapsing in pleasure, but the moment I heard a loud moan escape the woman’s lips from the other side, I was taken out of my imagination completely, remembering that it wasn’t me he was having sex with.

My eyes ripped open, realizing what I had been doing. I pulled my fingers out and collected myself, shamefully walking out of the closet and reaching for the headphones on the counter. I couldn’t believe that I had been pleasuring myself to the sounds of somebody else having sex. Even more embarrassingly so, I didn’t even arrive to a climax, so I couldn’t even say it was worth it.

I climbed back into bed, trying hard to ignore the sounds coming from the other side and slipping on my headphones, putting on anything that would distract my mind.

The next day, I didn’t wake up as early as I had liked. I ended up falling asleep pretty late, almost 2:30 in the morning, which was not my usual bedtime, clearly. But it was 12PM, still enough time to enjoy a light brunch before officially starting the day.

I changed into some loose clothes, making my way down to the café. Even though I felt guilty about last night, I felt ok enough to confidently walk into the café knowing Nicholas wouldn’t be there. Either he’d be too tired from his late night drinking and stayed in, or he would’ve started his day earlier and already had his coffee for the day. And when I entered the area, I found myself to be correct. He wasn’t there.

Comfortably, I ordered the same meal from yesterday, a croissant and a pot of tea, taking my seat at the same table. What can I say, I’m a creature of habit. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

Almost as soon as I sat down, the barista came over with my things, setting them down with a polite smile. Tired and hungry, I pulled a chunk out of the croissant and placed it into my mouth, savoring its sweet taste. I enjoyed my first meal of the day calmly and slowly, relaxed to know I wouldn’t bump into Nicholas right now. Maybe I’d have a few hours to myself before I did. But of course, my peace was short-lived.

As I picked at my food, the front door to the hotel chimed. I was too focused on pouring myself the last few ounces of tea into my mug to look up, but I didn’t have to. A familiar presence approached my table, “Mind if I join you?” Nicholas asked.

I looked up, my eyes locking onto his. He had that oh-so charming smile plastered on his face — innocent, as if he wasn’t the one partially responsible for keeping me up late.

“Sure,” I said, pulling the pot away from my mug.

He pulled up a chair from the neighboring table, sitting down across from me while his gaze flickered down at my half-eaten croissant. “You like taking your time, don’t you?”

I felt a rush of heat creeping up the back of my neck at his casual teasing. He was wearing a faded tee, not from age but one that looked like it had been drying out in the sun too long, his gold cross chain hidden under the collar. I’m sure he looked good in anything he wore.

“Don’t you?” I asked without missing a beat.

Nicholas stifled a smirk, tapping his finger against the table, “So what’d you do last night?”

I almost choked on my own spit at the question, clearing my throat. Dear god, please let me not stumble over my words. “Not much, why?”

He sharply inhaled, like he was unsure if he should answer, “I had knocked on your door to invite you out to the bar again, but you didn’t answer.”

I stifled a chuckle, shrugging my shoulders, “Why? Were you afraid I was doing something better?”

Nicholas’s fingers played at the edge of my plate, smirking. “I figured you were out walking or something,” he smiled.

“Well, I planned to,” I picked at my croissant, ripping off a tiny piece and placing it in my mouth, “but I ended up staying in.”

“Oh? You stayed in?” He shifted in his seat, thinking about his next words. “Sleeping?”

I calculated my answer. I didn’t want him to be embarrassed about the fact that I could hear him having sex the past two nights. “Yeah, early night,” I kept it short, hoping he’d drop the subject or, at least, change the topic.

I wasn’t sure if he believed me, but I didn’t care to elaborate. His presence was disarming enough without dredging up last night’s… intrusive thoughts. Instead, I took another sip of tea and focused on not meeting his gaze.

“So, then why’d you come down here so late in the morning?” He asked, a grin playing at his lips.

I stumbled on my words, trying to find an answer, Nicholas becoming more amused and entertained the more I stumbled. Was he waiting around for me? Did he know his proclivities had kept me up? Did he know I could hear through the walls?

“Lazy morning,” I shrugged my shoulders. He stifled a chuckle, accepting my answer without too much kickback. “What about you?” I asked, turning the tables on him. “What did you get up to last night?”

His grin didn’t falter. If anything, it grew sharper, and he leaned forward just slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “Me? Nothing much,” his finger twiddled near my croissant, pushing around the tea spoon next to it, “I had a drink or two. A little company.” His eyes flickered up to meet mine.

I swallowed hard, the tension between us thickening. His choice of words hung in the air, deliberate and calculated. He knew exactly what he was doing dangling that tidbit of information in front of me, seeing if I’d bite, but I wasn’t going to.

Taking a sip of my tea, I pretended to brush off his words, “Sounds like you had fun,” I spoke casually, keeping my expression neutral.

Nicholas tilted his head, watching me closely. “I would’ve had even more fun, but I had some plans fall through,” he paused, “I had to improvise.”

Oh, the calculation in his words were driving me mad, especially because I didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of baiting a specific reaction out of me. Was I right? Could that have been me in his room last night if I decided to go out with him?

I set the cup down as calmly as I could manage, but inside, I was shaking, “Doesn’t seem like you had any trouble improvising, then.”

For a moment, Nicholas’s fingers stopped tapping against the plate, that infuriating smirk returning. He leaned back into his chair, amused, “You heard, didn’t you?“

My eyes nearly fell out of my head, but I tried to keep it cool, "Heard what?"

His laugh was soft but full of certainty. "Come on, (Y/N). I heard you watching a movie the other night. These walls,” he gestured lazily toward the ceiling, “are paper thin; it was like I was in your room watching it with you.” He leaned toward me, resting his arms on the table again, “That’s why you woke up late, isn’t it?"

God, I wanted to shrivel up and die right then and there. It was absolutely infuriating how he could figure me out so easily. But my suspicions were confirmed — he did know, this entire time, and he still decided to have loud sex knowing anybody in the neighboring room could hear. And he had no shame about it!

My face burned with embarrassment, and l avoided his gaze like my life depended on it. "I didn't hear anything," I stammered, lying so poorly I might as well have just admitted the truth. “I’m a deep sleeper.”

Nicholas tilted his head, that insufferable smirk deepening. “A deep sleeper, huh?” His voice dripped with amusement. He rested his chin in his palm as he studied me like I was some kind of puzzle. “Alright, I’ll take your word for it.”

My grip tightened on the edge of the table, desperate to regain some semblance of control.

“For what it's worth...” Nicholas pushed back his chair and stood, smiling down at me. He leaned down toward me, his tone softening just enough to send a shiver down my spine. "If I'd known you were listening, I might've put on a better show." He took a small bite of my croissant, dusting the crumbs off his hands and making his way toward the door, winking at me before he exited.

Unable to fathom what had just happened, I stayed planted in my seat. Did he seriously just say that? My thoughts spiraled. Was this a game to him? Could he tell just how truly flustered I was by his teasing? Was I really that easy to rile up?

I pushed my plate and mug away from me, hoping to regain some space to avoid feeling suffocated by the remnants of his presence that Nicholas had left behind in his wake. And yet, I couldn’t deny the pull he had on me. No matter how hard I tried to push it down, to deny the heat in my cheeks and the butterflies in my stomach, it was there. Nicholas was under my skin.

I tried to avoid running into him the rest of the day, to suffocate him out of me like one would a parasite, but to know you’re avoiding someone, you’d have to be on the lookout, on your toes. Every corner I turned, I checked to see if he was there. Every room I entered, I scanned around looking for his distinct tousled hair. On the beach, I hid behind my sunglasses, scanning the shore for the familiar build of him. Finding him nowhere, I relaxed a bit, choosing to free myself and going for a short walk along the water.

I let the water lap around my ankles, rhythmically enveloping them as I slowly walked along the borderline empty beach. I picked up a few shells that caught my eye — only the colorful, unique ones. In fact, I kept walking, walking, and walking until it became evening, the sun setting over the beach, slowly but surely.

I returned to my spot, sitting back and admiring the colors of the sky. In fact, I was so relaxed, huddled under my towel, that I may have yawned once or twice. As I continued to look out into the horizon, I felt a cold tap on my shoulder, turning my head up to see who was interrupting my moment of relaxation. Of course, by now, I already knew who.

Nicholas stood there, towering over me with a pair of beers in his hand, holding one out for me. “Pretty, right?” He asked with a smile, looking out into the purple water.

I glanced at the beer in his outstretched hand before shifting my gaze to his face, the fading sunlight casting an orange glow over his sharp features. I kept my expression neutral, taking the beer from him without a word. He took that as an invitation to plop down in the space next to me, stretching his legs out and taking a sip from his can.

We sat there in silence for a while, the only sounds being the gentle crash of waves and the occasional chatter of distant beachgoers. It was… oddly peaceful, almost enough to make me forget about the tension that seemed to follow us — or should I say, me — like a shadow. Maybe, also, because I was a little sleepy.

“So, did you find what you were looking for today?” Nicholas asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

I frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

“You were walking up and down the beach for hours,” he said, motioning toward the small pile of shells I’d collected.

My mouth grew to a smile, cocky, “You were watching me for hours?”

For the first time, Nicholas stammered on his words, and it was a sight I was incredibly amused by. His head fell as he chuckled, maybe flustered that I had finally caught him in a moment instead of the other way around, “Yeah,” he nodded his head, his cheeks pink, “I was.”

I couldn’t help the smirk tugging at my lips. Watching him falter, even slightly, was a rare treat, one I planned to savor. “I can see why you like pushing people’s buttons now.”

“I don’t like pushing people’s buttons,” he said as he brought the beer to his lips, “just yours.”

It was insane just how quickly Nicholas could turn something back onto you. The admission was so casual, yet it hit me like a rogue wave. I stared at him, half-expecting him to laugh or brush it off as a joke, but he simply leaned back on his hands, eyes on the horizon like he hadn’t just set my pulse racing.

“I’m sure you say that to all your company,” I turned to face the water, sipping on my beer and trying to hide my flushed cheeks. I chose my words carefully, wanting to see how’d he react.

Nicholas let out a low chuckle beside me. “I don’t,” he said simply, his voice drawing me in despite myself. “Only you.”

I stole a quick glance at him, but he was already looking ahead, the way his profile caught the last rays of the setting sun, casting long shadows across his features. There was something magnetic about him, and the more time I spent around him, the more I couldn’t ignore it. He was confident, teasing, but there was something underneath, something deeper that made it hard to read him completely.

A part of me wanted to challenge him, maybe even keep him on his toes. But there was another part of me, the part I kept hidden, that wanted to give in to the tension, to see where it could lead. My mind raced with the possibilities, each thought contradicting the last, until I was sure I was overthinking every moment, every word we exchanged.

I cleared my throat and shifted my position in the chair, facing toward him completely. “Indulge me. What makes me so different that you just can’t help but push my buttons?”

He smiled, like he had an answer prepared since the moment we met, “You don’t give in easily, but you seem like the type to give yourself completely once you do.”

Nicholas’s words lingered in the air, making my pulse quicken. It was strange how effortlessly he could unravel me with just a few words. I tried to maintain my composure, but the quiet between us seemed to stretch longer than I was comfortable with. His words felt like a challenge,  but also like a promise. My mind kept drifting back to the night before, to the sounds of him on the other side of the wall.

“I’m not so sure about that,” I replied, keeping my voice steady, though it didn’t quite mask the undercurrent of uncertainty I was feeling.

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he shifted closer. “Really? Because there’s only so much pressure somebody can take before they start to crack.”

I wanted to say something sharp, something that would put distance between us, but his confidence was suffocating, almost intoxicating. I couldn’t seem to gather the words to shut him down. So, instead, I took another long sip from my beer, pretending to focus on the view ahead of me, though my mind was anything but at ease.

His smile widened, “Aren’t you cracking?”

For a moment, it felt like time stopped. The world seemed to fade into the background, and it was just the two of us, sitting there in the fading sunlight, with nothing but the sound of the waves and the sudden weight of his words hanging between us.

I cleared my throat, finishing my beer, “I don’t think so,” I said lightly, trying to mask the effect his words had on me.

“We’ll see about that then,” he finally said, his voice low and casual, though I could tell there was a hint of challenge in it.

I was almost afraid to look at him, afraid of what I might see in his eyes. But I couldn’t help it. Slowly, I turned my head, and our eyes met, the connection between us palpable. My head slowly started to move forward by itself, millimeter by millimeter, toward Nicholas. My heart raced faster and faster, it was practically thumping out of my chest when I realized that he was leaning in, too. Right as I was about to close my eyes to welcome whatever was about to happen, I heard a group of people loudly laugh as they passed by behind us. I quietly chuckled to myself, thinking that may be my cue to leave.

Satiating my dose of Nicholas for the day, I dusted myself off and stood up from the beach chair, handing him my empty beer bottle, “I guess we will,” I said, not too much of a challenge behind my words. I grabbed my chair and looked back at Nicholas with a friendly grin before walking off.

I couldn’t shake the feeling of Nicholas’s eyes on me, but I powered through, making my way to my room. The second I entered, I went to the bathroom and stripped off my sandy clothes, turning on the shower to warm myself up from sitting in the cool, evening breeze. The hot water streamed over my skin, washing away the lingering chill from the beach. I let out a deep breath, closing my eyes as the steam began to fill the space.

My mind wandered back to the conversation with Nicholas. His words replayed in my head, their weight sinking in a little deeper with each memory: We’ll see about that.

After my shower, I slipped into a cozy tee and shorts, feeling a bit more grounded. I sat by the window, towel drying my hair, watching the moonlight dance on the water. The calm of the night settled around me, but my mind was still restless.

To distract myself, I turned on the tv, not caring what was on but making sure to keep the sound at a reasonable volume to not disturb Nicholas but just loud enough that I might not hear tonight’s mystery woman moan through the wall.

As the night stretched on, I tried my best to focus on the random show playing on the screen, but my thoughts kept drifting. Every sound outside my window, every muffled thump from the hallway, made my heart race just a little faster thinking it might be Nicholas arriving to his room.

The hours ticked by. I hadn’t heard anything from his side of the wall yet — not a voice, not the creak of a bedframe, nothing. It was almost worse than the alternative. The anticipation was maddening. I half-wondered if he knew I was waiting, if he was deliberately drawing this out just to mess with me.

Finally, around midnight, I heard the faintest sound of a door opening and closing. My stomach twisted, though I wasn’t sure why. I told myself I didn’t care, that whatever he did wasn’t any of my business. There were a few thumps followed by a silence on the other side. I tried to focus on the tv but my ears seemed to be tuned in on what was going on the opposite side of the wall.

Minutes passed, and the silence persisted. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Nicholas had turned over a new leaf tonight, or maybe he just couldn’t hook himself a lady tonight. But just as my focus started to drift back to the tv, the silence was broken by a clear, unmistakable groan — Nicholas. I half-expected it to be followed by the high-pitched moan of a woman, like it was both nights prior, but it never came. 

I should’ve turned the volume up, drowned it out, or grabbed my headphones. Instead, I sat there, frozen, as the groaning grew louder — his voice, unmistakable and far too close for comfort. I hated how my body reacted. The heat in my cheeks, the way my chest tightened with every noise, the throbbing sensation between my thighs. I shook my head, trying to dispel the thought, but I let my curiosity get the best of me.

I slid off the bed and crept toward the closet, my heart pounding in my chest. My rational side screamed at me to stop, to mind my own business, but something about the sound of his voice pulled me in. But the little devil on my shoulder told me that I had already eavesdropped twice before, what’s one more time?

Opening the closet doors quietly, I leaned over the luggage rack and pressed my ear lightly against the cool surface of the wall, listening. The groans continued, low and guttural, accompanied by the light sound of a rhythmic wet slapping, sending an uninvited warmth through my body. It took a moment for me to realize there was no second voice, no telltale feminine giggle or breathy gasp. It was just Nicholas.

My breath caught in my throat. He's alone. The realization sent a shockwave through me, equal parts relief and something else I didn't want to name. He wasn't with anyone tonight. He was... taking care of himself.

I pressed my forehead against the wall, closing my eyes as his voice — raw, unguarded, and achingly intimate — filled my ears. My hand instinctively moved to my chest, clutching the fabric of my shirt as I fought the conflicting feelings that raced through me. However guilty I felt for listening in, I couldn’t pull myself away. I was entranced.

His groans deepened, interspersed with uneven breaths, and I felt my knees weaken. It was maddening how his voice seemed to reach right into me. My lips parted slightly, my breath shaky as my body betrayed me, responding to the sounds with a heat I tried desperately to ignore.

The wet slapping quickened, a whimper escaping his lips followed by erratic heavy breathing. I lost all inhibitions, slipping my hand under my underwear. I exhaled shakily, my head resting against the wall, feeling the vibrations of his voice travel through me. My fingers moved instinctively, slow and hesitant at first, matching the rhythm of the sounds spilling from him. Each groan, each sigh seemed to draw me deeper into a haze I couldn't escape.

My mind was a mess of contradictions: shame, desire, and something more dangerous — an unspoken connection, even if he didn't know I was there. I bit my lip, trying to stay as silent as possible, but the tension within me built with each passing moment, threatening to undo me entirely.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Nicholas quickly whined out, followed by a loud moan.

I slipped my other hand under my shirt, kneading my breast, as my fingers worked my throbbing clit. I felt the rapid beat of my heart as it matched the rhythm of his breath. The heat between my legs intensified, and the sound of his voice grew louder in my ears, pulling me further into the spiral. His groans were rough, almost frantic now, and I could feel every pulse, every heavy breath reverberating through the wall like it was echoing through my very bones.

I tried to focus, tried to pull myself out of this situation before it became something I couldn't undo, but I couldn't stop. I couldn't pull away, couldn't shake the pull of him. I closed my eyes tightly, my fingers rubbing harder against my clit in frantic circles, then moving them lower and slipping my middle and ring finger inside of me. Desperate, I pulled my shorts off me, letting them land at my feet.

My own breathing became erratic, escaping through my nostrils as I tried to keep myself from making any sound, biting the inside of my cheek and shutting my eyes closed as I pleasured myself.

His voice broke through the haze of my thoughts again. "God... need you..."

The words, the desperation in them, sent me into a frenzy. I couldn’t hold in my voice any longer — a quiet, whimper escaping my lips as I pumped my fingers inside me, pretending they were Nicholas’s. I could feel the tension in me coiling tighter and tighter the more I heard him talk through his pleasure.

A high-pitched groan slipped out of him, the wet slapping quickening even more. I could almost picture him on the other side — laying down in the middle of his bed, shirtless. his legs dangling off as he tugged at himself, his eyes shut as he grabbed at his hair, giving in.

My breath hitched at the vivid image in my mind. It was a dangerous thought, but one that I desperately wished I was there to see.

I could almost hear the strained breath in his throat, as if he was on the edge, about to break. The thought alone sent an electric charge through me, spurring me to move faster, my fingers pressing deeper, matching the intensity of his own rhythm.

"Please," he moaned, his voice broken, raw with need. "Fuck..."

The vulnerability in his voice, so exposed, so real, made me lose all control. I found myself unable to think or reason anymore. I was lost in him, in the sound of his pleasure, and in the dangerous path I was walking.

His voice faltered, his groans growing more frantic, and that's when I felt it — the sudden wave of warmth, the rush of sensation sweeping over me. But just as I was reaching my peak, so was he. Nicholas let out a sound so intimate and raw that it sent a shiver down my spine. Then came a low, guttural groan followed by the unmistakable — my name.

“(Y/N)- fuck!”

It happened just as I was about to reach orgasm, but I was so startled to hear my name that my eyes shot open and I stumbled back from the wall, knocking over the luggage rack below with a solid thud as it tipped over. I tried to catch it before it hit the floor, stumbling to reach for it, but my effort was for naught. A deafening silence filled the room after the loud noise quickly settled. The only thing I could hear was the loud thumping coming from my chest, becoming faster as I realized my predicament.

My breath came in shallow gasps, my body stiff with tension, caught somewhere between shock and embarrassment. On the other side of the wall, there was a beat of complete silence. I held my breath, waiting to hear something — anything — but nothing came. Not a footstep, not a sound. My mind raced, praying that Nicholas might’ve not heard the ruckus through his climax. Don’t orgasms dull one’s senses?

And then, as if the silence was suffocating me, I heard it. A faint creak — Nicholas’s door, opening then closing with a heavy thud. My chest tightened, anxiety coursing through my veins. I stood there frozen, my legs completely unable to move as if I had stuck them in buckets of cement. I felt every inch of my skin burn with humiliation. That’s when I heard a knock at my door, not light like the day before. It sounded desperate. I couldn’t run; I couldn’t hide. Nicholas knew I was in here.

Slowly, I inched closer to the door, my hand trembling as I reached for the doorknob. I tried to swallow my nerves, but I couldn’t fight the fact that I felt like I wasn’t getting enough oxygen. I breathed heavily as I opened the door, clutching at the edge as my eyes fell on Nicholas’s heaving bare chest.

He stood there, his chest rising and falling, glistening from the thin layer of sweat that he had worked up. A slight satisfied grin played on his lips as his eyes trailed down my body, lingering on my bottom half as I stood there in nothing but my shirt and lacy underwear.

He didn't wait for an invitation, stepping inside as soon as the door cracked open, closing it behind him with a deafening click. We stood there, facing each other, the silence hanging thick in the air. I could barely meet his gaze, my cheeks still burning with humiliation. I stammered, hoping to explain myself with a pathetic excuse of a reason, but he interrupted me with a quiet shush, still smirking.

He placed a finger gently over his lips, his eyes dark with something unreadable. "No need to explain," he whispered, stepping closer, his presence dominating the space between us. My breath hitched as he closed the distance, cornering me against the wall, his body heat enveloping me, making my pulse race.

The air felt thick, suffocating, as if the room was closing in on me with every breath. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I couldn't quite figure out what to do with my hands, so I held them behind my back, pressing them against the wall.

“Were you listening in?” He asked, brushing his hand up my sides before it settled on my hip, my body trembling under his touch. It was everything I wanted him to do to me, and yet, I still felt nervous under him.

Too ashamed of myself to open my mouth to answer, I nodded my head hesitantly. Nicholas's smirk widened, but there was no mockery in it. No teasing. His hand slid to my chin, tilting my head up so that our gazes locked. There was no escape now — no way to hide.

“I hoped you were,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, sending shivers down my spine. His thumb traced the line of my jaw slowly, deliberately.

He was so close now that I could feel his breath against my skin, and I was painfully aware of how badly my body was reacting to him. His thumb brushed over my lips, and I instinctively parted them, my breath hitching as his gaze softened, darkened. I could feel the tension between us, so thick that I could almost taste it.

His other hand slid around to the small of my back, pressing me into him, the heat of his body sending waves of electricity through me. His eyes never left mine, and I could hear the rapid beat of my own heart in my ears, drowning out everything else.

Nicholas murmured, his voice dark and full of intention, "Did you enjoy what you heard?" His fingers tightened ever so slightly on my waist, as if testing my response, and I couldn't help the small, almost imperceptible nod that escaped my lips.

Nicholas's smirk deepened, and he closed the gap between us, his lips barely grazing mine. His breath was hot and intoxicating, and the world seemed to disappear around us.

“Were you touching yourself?” He questioned, his hand moving down to my hips, my body squirming the moment his finger hooked itself under the band of my underwear.

I closed my eyes, my lips parting at his touch, nodding my head again. My hands clenched behind my back, the urge to touch him overwhelming. But I couldn't seem to move, too caught up in the magnetic pull between us.

Nicholas's thumb traced the outline of my lips again, the action slow and deliberate. His gaze never left mine, and I could see the hunger in his eyes, the way he studied me like I was something he wanted, something he couldn't resist.

His voice was a whisper, low and intoxicating. "You can touch me if you want to." It was a quiet command, but there was an invitation in it.

I hesitated for a moment, but then, as if drawn by an invisible force, my hand slid up his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath the soft skin. My fingers traced the lines of his collarbone, skimming down to the waistband of his pants before I pulled away, suddenly embarrassed by the boldness of the move. Nicholas didn't give me time to retreat too much, though. With a gentle but firm grasp, he pulled my hand back to his chest, guiding it lower, urging me to feel the hard planes of his body.

His lips parted slightly as he lowered his head, his breath hot against my ear. “Don't be shy,” he whispered again, his voice thick with desire.

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing as I let my hand roam over his body, feeling the heat radiating from him. The muscles of his chest were solid under my touch, his skin warm and soft in contrast. My fingertips trailed down to the waistband of his pants again, this time without hesitation. He didn't stop me, didn't pull away. Instead, he let out a low, approving sound, his body shifting closer to mine.

The closeness was dizzying. His scent filled my senses, sharp and intoxicating, and I couldn't help but pull him toward me by his belt loops and lean in, my lips just inches from his.

He took charge, his lips brushing mine softly at first, teasing, testing, until the pressure grew, and I found myself kissing him back without hesitation. The kiss was electric, hungry, full of that same tension that had been building between us for days. His hand slid around my back, pulling me closer, as I tangled my fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss.

My body responded to him, betraying all the resistance l'd tried to put up. I felt his hands everywhere — on my back, on my hips, his hands softly squeezing my ass, pulling me closer as if he couldn't get enough. A groan rumbled low in his throat as his lips moved to my neck, trailing kisses down the curve of my collarbone. I tilted my head back, surrendering to the sensation, every nerve alive, every thought clouded by the pull of him.

His hands slipped under my shirt, sliding along my bare skin, and I gasped at the coolness of his touch against the heat of my body. The intimacy of it all, the way he seemed to know exactly where to touch, how to make me shiver, was overwhelming. But I wasn't the only one lost in this; it was clear from his ragged breathing, from the way his hands shook slightly as they explored my body, that he was just as desperate as I was.

"Everything I did this weekend was to get your attention," Nicholas murmured against my skin. His lips pressed against the curve of my jaw, trailing to my ear, where he nipped at the lobe gently. "I've wanted you since the moment I saw you in the stairwell. I can't get enough of you, (Y/N),” his voice rough, almost pleading, “I want you.”

His confession hit me like a tidal wave, and for a second, I couldn't breathe. His words, his desire, everything he was feeling was laid bare before me, and I couldn't deny that I wanted him just as much.

"I want you, too, Nicholas," I whispered, my voice barely audible, but the raw honesty behind it made his body freeze. His hands paused where they rested on my back, and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, as if he was trying to read my soul.

I, however, didn't hesitate. My hands found the sides of his face, pulling him back toward me as I kissed him fiercely. The kiss became frantic as our bodies collided, desperate, as though we were both starved for this connection. His hands moved quickly, pulling my shirt over my head and discarding it on the floor. I felt the cool air hit my skin, but it did nothing to dampen the fire building inside me.

I couldn't pull away. My body, my mind, all of it was consumed by him. His lips trailed down my neck, his teeth grazing lightly over the sensitive skin of my collarbone as his hands roamed lower, finding the waistband of my underwear again. I gasped as he gently tugged them down, his fingers brushing against my skin with an intimacy that made me tremble.

Nicholas was steady in his movements, never rushing, always making sure I was with him, always checking, always asking if I was okay with everything. But there was a fire in his eyes, a need that mirrored mine, a hunger that couldn't be ignored.

"I want to make you feel good," he whispered against my skin, his voice thick with desire. All I could do was nod my head at his statement, ready to give myself to him.

He wasted no time, lifting me effortlessly. I wrapped my legs around him, hooking them behind his lower back. The feeling of his jeans grazing my bare center was enough to trigger a quiet mewl out of me. Nicholas groaned at the sound, his lips crashing back onto mine as he carried me toward the bed. When my back hit the soft mattress, I felt the weight of him settle over me, his hands bracing either side of my head.

His gaze bore into mine, his chest rising and falling heavily as he paused, his face hovering just inches above mine. For a moment, everything stilled, the only sound was the rhythmic beat of our breaths mingling in the air between us. As he settled down in the space next to me, propping himself up by the elbow, his free hand reached up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over my flushed skin with a tenderness that sent shivers down my spine. The both of us laid there, face to face.

His lips parted as if to say something but no words escaped his lips, the hand on my cheek slowly making its way down, down. It lingered, at first, over my sensitive breast, tracing slow circles around my nipple. I bit my lip at the sensation, digging my head into his chest as I quietly moaned.

Nicholas quietly giggled, amused to see me squirming under him, as he slithered his supporting arm behind my head and pulled me closer to him. His lips rested on my forehead as he slid his hand further down, enveloping my center. “God, you’re soaking,” he whispered; I could feel his smirk against my skin.

His fingers massaged my throbbing bud, then slipped his fingers into me, his touch deft and confident. I loudly gasped and clutched at his arm, arching into him. “Oh, fuck,” I quietly breathed, nibbling on my bottom lip to bite back my moans.

He smiled, “Don’t hold yourself back. Be as loud as you want,” he whispered as his fingers continued to coax me, his thumb massaging my clit.

Digging my nails into his shoulder, my chest violently rising and falling as he pumped his fingers, I shook my head. “Somebody’s gonna hear,” I stammered out through my labored breathing.

“So?” He questioned, slipping a third finger in. Nicholas's confidence was maddening, his tone both teasing and commanding, making it impossible to resist him. “Let them hear how good I make you feel," he murmured, his lips brushing against my temple.

My body arched involuntarily, my head falling back into the pillow as a moan escaped me despite my best efforts to stifle it. Nicholas was not having it. He quickened his pace, quickly slipping in and out with ease, as his thumb continued to circle around my clit. His lips kissed at my neck, his tongue licking my skin before gently sucking. I turned my head, my hand clutching at the back of his hair as I passionately made out with him, softly moaning between kisses.

I was unraveling beneath him, my body trembling as the heat coiled tighter and tighter in my core. My moans slowly became louder and louder, filling the room, and I knew there was no hiding how he was making me feel. The pleasure that I was feeling was so great that I couldn’t focus on kissing Nicholas anymore. I had to pull my head away, glancing down at his hand pumping in and out of me before shutting my eyes and burying my head into his chest again. I could barely find the strength to call out to him, my voice faltering as I moaned out, “Nic…” 

"That's it,” he encouraged, his voice a low growl. "Say my name, baby,” his fingers reshaping themselves inside me to reach further

My breathing became erratic hearing him call me baby, my nails raking across his shoulder as I clung to him, "Nicholas," I cried, louder this time, no longer caring who might hear.

The sound of my voice seemed to spur him on, his movements growing even more precise, more relentless. His words, his touch, the heat of his body — it was all too much. "It’s ok; I’ve got you," he murmured against my neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along my skin. His gaze locking with mine, his fingers never faltering.

His words were my undoing. I shattered around him, my body arching as a wave of pleasure crashed over me, pulling me under. My cries of ecstasy filled the room, and I clung to Nicholas like he was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. He held me through it, his embrace steady and reassuring as I rode out the high while his fingers continued to coax every pleasure out of me, slowing to a stop.

When I finally came down, my body limped against his, Nicholas pressed a soft kiss to my lips, his hand leaving my core and coming up to his lips. I watched in awe as he licked at his fingers, wrapping his lips around them as he savored every trace of me with a deliberate slowness that made my breath hitch. His eyes never left mine, their intensity sending a shiver down my spine. I buried my face against his shoulder, my breathing still uneven.

He brushed away the damp hair from my face with the back of his pinky, “You taste even better than I imagined,” he spoke softly, his voice velvety.

The weight of his gaze was almost too much, but when I looked into his brown eyes, all I saw was warmth, tenderness, and something deeper that made my stomach ache. My stomach wasn’t the only thing aching, either. The entirety of me did — my hands, my core, my soul. I ached for him.

Desperate to have him at the end of my fingertips, I trailed my hands across his chest, settling on the nape of his neck as I captured his lips in a kiss. Nicholas replied with a soft groan, his hand finding my waist and his fingers delicately digging into my skin. The kiss deepened, our breaths mingling as I pulled him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against me. My hands wandered, exploring the contours of his back, his muscles taut under my fingertips.

I pulled my lips away, pressing my forehead against his, “I hope you’re not done with me yet,” I whispered.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, “Far from it.”

He cradled my head in his hand, angling it slightly as his lips moved with mine, urgent yet tender. Nicholas shifted his weight, moving slightly up on the bed, grabbing me by my hips and rolling himself over on the bed as he pulled me on top of him.

My legs straddled his hips, my bare skin brushing against the rough denim of his jeans. The friction sent a jolt through me, and I bit my lip, my eyes locking with his. His hands slid up my thighs, gripping them firmly as if grounding himself in the moment. His gaze roamed over me with unrestrained hunger, making my skin flush under his scrutiny.

His hands continued their slow exploration, sliding up to rest on my waist. "I could look at you like this forever."

His words sent a thrill through me, and I couldn't help but smile, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. He met me halfway, his hands tightening their grip as he deepened the kiss. I let my hands roam, tracing the lines of his chest and shoulders, marveling at the strength beneath my fingertips. His muscles flexed as he moved beneath me, his hands sliding up to cradle my back, holding me close.

My hips began to move instinctively, grinding against him, and Nicholas groaned, his head falling back against the pillow as his eyes fluttered shut. His reaction ignited something in me, a newfound confidence that made me bold. I leaned down, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered, "Tell me what you want, Nicholas."

His hands gripped my waist tighter, guiding my movements as he let out a low growl. "I want you," he said, his voice rough with desire.

The intensity of his words sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't hold back the smile that spread across my face. Leaning down, I kissed him again, pouring every ounce of my own desire into it. My hands tangled in his hair as our lips moved together, our breaths mingling as the space between us disappeared entirely.

Nicholas's hands slid down to my ass, his touch firm yet gentle as he guided me to move against him. The friction between us was electric, each movement sending waves of pleasure through me. His lips left mine to trail down my neck, his teeth grazing over my skin in a way that made me gasp.

"You drive me crazy, (Y/N)," he murmured against my collarbone, his voice raw, “you know that?"

I smiled, my hands bracing against his chest as I moved against him, my confidence growing with every reaction I drew from him. "I do now," I replied, my voice breathless.

Nicholas groaned, his hand digging into my skin as he bucked his hips upward, meeting my movements. His control was slipping, and I could feel it in the way his grip tightened, the way his breathing grew ragged. I continued to grind against him, trying to coax out the whimpers I had heard escape his lips when I was listening through the wall.

Nicholas's hands slid up my back, his fingers tracing along my spine as he tried to steady himself. His head fell back, his eyebrows tied together as his lips parted in a quiet moan that sent a rush of heat through me. But it wasn’t enough. I brushed my thumb against his bottom lip, slowing to a stop so he could feel the loss, teasing him with the occasional grind, “I want to hear you, Nic.”

He nodded his head, pressing me down against him as he bucked his hips upward repeatedly, desperate for me to continue. “Please, (Y/N),” he shut his eyes closed as he ground himself against me, quietly whining.

Smirkingly, I obliged, slowly continuing to grind against him. I rested my palms on his tense chest, bringing them down to the waistband of his jeans. His fingers curled into my thighs the faster I worked, moaning louder and louder.

“Fuck, I can’t—“ he threw his head back, raggedly moaning.

Looking at him in such a vulnerable state underneath me after days of having to deal with his cocky confidence, it made my blood rush. I played with the button of his jeans, undoing them and shimmying his pants and boxers off just enough for his hard length to free itself under me. I spit my hand, gently stroking him as I positioned his member at my entrance.

Nicholas let out a guttural groan, his hands gripping me firmly as I hovered over him, teasing him with my slow movements. I lowered myself onto him, taking him in inch by inch, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure coursing through my body. A sharp gasp escaped my lips, and Nicholas’s eyes rolled back, his head falling back onto the pillow again. The connection between us was electric, every movement, every sound amplifying the intensity of the moment. Nicholas's hands roamed over my body, his touch both tender and possessive.

As I rode him, I grabbed Nicholas’s hands, leading them to my chest. Even though he could barely keep his eyes open, he understood what I wanted, beginning to knead and pinch at my breasts. I moaned at his touch, bringing one hand of his up to my lips to kiss his fingertips before placing it back on my breast.

Suddenly, I felt him tense under me, arching his back toward me, "Don't stop," he pleaded, his voice becoming an octave higher, his grip on me tightening. "Please, baby, don't stop.”

I didn't. I couldn't. The rhythm between us was intoxicating, building to something that felt almost otherworldly. My name fell from his lips like a prayer, and the sound sent a surge of pleasure through me, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

Nicholas's hands fell to my hips, guiding my movements as his breathing grew erratic. "I'm close," he groaned, his voice a mix of desperation and pleasure.

I leaned down, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered, “Come for me, Nic." My words seemed to break the last of his restraint, and his hips bucked up into me with an urgency that sent shockwaves through my entire body.

“Fuck, (Y/N), I —“ His words cut off as a guttural groan escaped him, his body arching beneath me as he came. The intensity of his release sent me spiraling over the edge with him, my body trembling as the product of his pleasure filled me completely, some of the creamy liquid slowly dripping out me.

The aftershocks of our climax left us both trembling, our breaths mingling as we tried to regain control of ourselves. I collapsed onto Nicholas's chest, his arms immediately wrapping around me, holding me close as though he couldn't bear the thought of letting go.

For a while, we just lay there, our bodies pressed together, hearts pounding in unison. His fingers traced lazy patterns along my spine, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath me, the steady rhythm lulling me into a serene haze.

He caught his breath, “That was….” a hint of a chuckle at the end of his words, “That was fucking incredible,” he said as he kissed the top of my head.

I pulled myself off of Nicholas, lying down next to him and covering myself with the bed sheets. I thought about what he had said earlier at the beach — I may not give in easily, but when I do, I give in completely. It felt nice to finally be seen by someone who could understand me even after only knowing me for a few days compared to other people who have known me for years and still manage to get things wrong about me.

I rolled over to face Nicholas, my hand finding his. He smiled softly, intertwining his fingers with mine and kissing the back of my hand. A smile curled at the end of my lips seeing him so affectionate, “When do you check out of the hotel?” I asked, playing with his hand.

“In the morning. You?” He asked, caressing my cheek with his other hand.

“In the morning,” I replied, my eyes flickering up at him to see his reaction.

He was quiet, not saying anything at first, however, he rolled me over and pulled me closer to him, spooning me and pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “We’ll have tonight, then,” he whispered, wrapping his heavy arm around my waist and nuzzling his head into the pillow.

My chest tightened at his words, and I couldn't help but smile softly. I rested my hand above his, intertwining our fingers. Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep to the sound of Nicholas’s soft, rhythmic breathing.

A few hours later, which felt like minutes, I stirred awake to the soft light filtering through the curtains. The remnants of the previous night were scattered around — my shirt and underwear and his jeans and boxers strewn carelessly across the floor, the faint scent of Nicholas's cologne mingling with the crisp hotel room air.

The weight of his big, beefy arm draped over my waist anchored me in place. For a moment, I stayed still, savoring the warmth of his body against mine and the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek before I rotated in place so I could admire Nicholas as he rested. 

We were so close that I could count the beauty marks on his face. There was one on his cheek and another on his chin. His lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones, his lips slightly parted as he breathed deeply. I softly grazed my fingers over the scar on his forehead, wondering how he might’ve gotten it, though I’m not sure if I’d ever find out. He looked peaceful, vulnerable even, and the sight tugged at something deep within me.

I let my fingers trail lightly over his chest, tracing the faint outlines of the muscles that had pressed against me so urgently just hours ago. He stirred slightly, a low hum escaping his throat as his arm tightened around me instinctively.

His eyes fluttered open, landing on me before he closed them again for a few seconds, “Morning,” he murmured, smiling, his voice thick and husky from sleep. He opened his eyes again, gazing at me longingly.

"Morning," I whispered back, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze despite everything we had shared. His hand slid up my back, his fingers tangling in my hair as he leaned in for a slow, lingering kiss.

“Are we staying in?” he asked, shifting his body to face me.

I smiled, running a hand through his messy bedhead. "Oh, I wish," I admitted, my cheeks flushing as the memories of the night before flooded back, "but we have to check out.”

Nicholas groaned, his forehead pressing gently against mine. “Don’t remind me,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “We should get some breakfast together before we leave.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, pushing myself up and sitting on the edge of the bed, stretching my arms. I let out a small sigh, feeling the weight of the moment settle on me. The night had been incredible, but the thought of leaving was already filling me with an unexpected ache. “Breakfast sounds perfect,” I said softly, faking a small yawn.

Nicholas and I didn’t waste any time. I changed into a clean set of clothes and packed up my things, my body slowly waking up the more I walked back and forth in the room. Nicholas put on his boxers and jeans and retreated to his room for a bit, quickly throwing all his stuff into a backpack before coming back to my room and helping me carry my bags to the car.

I think I was too somber to say anything, knowing if I did, that a “goodbye” might be attached to the end of whatever I say.

The silence between us felt heavy but not uncomfortable as we made our way to the café, our movements synchronized without the need for words.

As we entered, the delicious smell of freshly-baked pastries beckoned to us. The morning sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting soft rays across the inside. The sound of light chatter and the occasional clinking of cups and forks against the ceramic plates filled the air, but it all felt distant compared to the warmth between Nicholas and me.

He slithered his hand into mine as he led us to the register, politely smiling to the worker. He ordered his meal, a coffee and a Belgian waffle. I was about to order for myself when he interrupted. “She’ll have the Italian crème croissant and a pot of green tea, please.”

I couldn’t help but smile. That first morning in the café, I could’ve sworn Nicholas was so focused on his book that he didn’t realize what was going on around him; I had no idea he was paying attention to me the entire time.

He paid the worker for our food, letting her keep the change, and waked us over to the same table I had sat in both days prior. We sat close, our knees brushing under the table as we picked at our food, the conversation flowing easily despite the unspoken weight of the situation hanging in the air. After some minutes, the worker came over with our food, and we continued to converse while enjoying our breakfast.

Nicholas looked at me, his expression soft but with a hint of something more playful. “So, at what point are you gonna give me your number?” he asked, taking a bite of his waffle.

I paused, chuckling softly as I chewed on my croissant for a moment before meeting his gaze. “What?” I asked confusedly, trying to keep my tone casual, though my heart rate had sped up slightly.

“What, you thought you’d get rid of me so easily?” He took a sip of his coffee, shaking his head and smirking.

I laughed, the sound a little nervous but genuine. “I just didn’t want to assume anything or get my hopes up,” I admitted, giving him a sideways glance. There was a warmth spreading through me that I couldn’t quite place, something between affection and the lingering thrill of uncertainty.

Nicholas’s eyes softened, and he leaned back slightly, his hands wrapped around his cup. “Well, get your hopes up,” he said, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of something deeper. “because I don’t plan on letting go of you anytime soon.”

I swallowed, feeling my heart rate quicken at his words. There was something about the way he said it — so casually but with an intensity beneath the surface — that made me realize just how serious he was. And maybe how serious I was about him too.

“Alright, alright,” I said, smiling, trying to shake off the sudden rush of emotions swirling inside me. “Let’s trade phones.”

Nicholas’s smile widened, and he handed me his phone without hesitation, his fingers brushing against mine as we traded devices. I typed my number into the phone app, adding myself as a contact.

“Just remember we’re in different time zones before you decide to call me in the middle of the night,” I joked as I handed his phone back to him.

Nicholas laughed, a warm, genuine sound that made my heart flutter. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied, slipping the phone back into his pocket then handing me mine, the screen off. “Though I won’t make any promises I can’t keep.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, but the blush creeping up my neck betrayed me.

We finished our breakfast. Nicholas quietly walked me over to my car. He walked close to me, his hand occasionally brushing against mine before finally capturing it. He leaned casually against the car with his arms crossed. He looked so effortless, so at ease, but there was something in his eyes — a softness, maybe even a hint of reluctance — that made it clear he felt the weight of the moment, too.

We both stood there silently, knowing this was our goodbye. Nicholas uncrossed his arms, stepping closer until he was right in front of me. His fingers tilted my chin up, and he searched my eyes, his brows knitting together slightly as if to say something. However, instead of resorting to words, he inched his face closer and closer until our lips grazed. 

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if we were both trying to hold on to the fleeting moment. But then, as if we both couldn’t help it, the kiss deepened, more urgent now, the electricity between us undeniable. My hands found their way to his shirt, pulling him closer, while his arms wrapped around me, his fingers pressing into my back as if he wanted to keep me there forever. Though, we pulled away slowly, our foreheads resting against each other as we caught our breath. Neither of us spoke immediately, both of us reluctant to break the spell.

Nicholas stepped back, “How about next time you have a free weekend you treat yourself to a trip to LA and come visit me?”

My heart skipped a beat at his words, the weight of his offer sinking in. I couldn’t tell if it was the sudden openness of his invitation or the quiet sincerity in his voice that made it feel so real. It wasn’t just a passing comment; it was an open door between us.

“I’d like that,” I said softly, surprised by how easily the words came out.

He smiled, his expression softening. “Good.” He reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering as his eyes locked onto mine.

I wanted to say more — something that could make this moment last longer, something to ease the ache already starting to form in my chest. But the words didn’t come, and instead, we stood there, wrapped in silence, our connection hanging between us like an unspoken promise.

He gave me one lingering kiss, brief but filled with everything we couldn’t put into words. When we finally pulled away, he looked at me, as if taking one final mental picture of me standing there, before speaking. “I’ll call you.”

I nodded, feeling the flutter of anticipation start to rise inside me. “You better.”

He squeezed my hand gently before opening my car door and slyly rolling down the window, watching me climb inside and closing the door for me. He leaned on the door, softly smiling, “To be continued.”

I couldn’t help but smile and give him one final kiss through the open window so I could savor his taste before starting up the car. He stepped back, hands in his pockets, to give me enough room to back out of the parking space. I slowly reversed out, waving my hand at him and driving out into the street.

The quiet hum of the engine filled the space, but the silence didn’t feel empty. There was something between us, something that went beyond just a weekend. It was more than I’d expected, more than I’d thought I was ready for, but as I drove away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the end.

I don’t think I even left the neighborhood before a phone call interrupted my thoughts. My car’s entertainment screen lit up with the contact name in big, bold letters — Room 5.

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head as I tapped the answer button on the steering wheel. “Hey,” I teased, my voice light and playful, though my chest felt warm at the sight of his contact name lighting up my screen.

“Hey,” Nicholas’s voice came through, smooth and familiar.

It was just the beginning.

Continue the story with 'Making Room' here

[empyrealoasis]

Shifting 101: A Complete Beginner’s Guide🐚🫧

This guide will break down everything you need to know about shifting: what it is, how it works, the methods, the science behind it, and practical tips for success.

Scripts to use for beginners: World Building Guide Character Design Guide

What Is Shifting?

Shifting is the process of moving your consciousness to a different reality, whether it’s fictional, parallel, or entirely of your creation. It’s not your imagination—it’s about fully experiencing another reality.

Here's a summary of what it might feel like:

Physical Sensations

Vibrations or Tingling: Many report feeling their body vibrating or tingling, especially during the transition phase.

Weightlessness: A sensation of floating or being disconnected from the physical body.

Pressure Changes: Some describe feeling a "sinking" sensation, or a light pressure on their chest or body.

Warmth or Coolness: A shift in body temperature, often feeling either unusually warm or cool.

Mental and Emotional States

Calmness or Euphoria: A deep sense of peace, happiness, or excitement as they approach the desired reality.

Heightened Awareness: A sharper or more vivid sense of surroundings, even if they are imagined.

Detachment from the Current Reality: A feeling of being "pulled away" from where they currently are, mentally and emotionally.

Clarity: A sudden understanding or awareness of the desired reality, as if it's "right there."

During the Shift

Hypnagogic Imagery: Seeing flashes of light, shapes, or scenes from the desired reality as if in a vivid dream.

Auditory Changes: Hearing voices, sounds, or music associated with the desired reality.

Rapid Heartbeat: Some report their heart racing, which may be a mix of excitement and physiological response.

After the Shift

Being grounded in the Desired Reality: Feeling completely present and immersed in the new environment, often indistinguishable from waking life.

Memories: Retaining memories of the current reality but experiencing them as distant or unimportant compared to the new reality.

Familiarity: Even if the shifted reality is new, it may feel intuitively familiar, like returning to a place you've always known.

Why Do People Shift?

To live out their dream life or be in a fictional world.

Escape stress or explore alternate possibilities.

To experience new perspectives and adventures.

For self growth (mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually)

How Does Shifting Work?

Shifting focuses on aligning your consciousness with another reality. It may sound mystical, but scientific concepts can explain how it might work:

1. The Role of the Subconscious

Your subconscious mind doesn’t differentiate between imagination and reality—it processes everything you believe as truth. By visualizing and affirming your DR, you’re "rewriting" your mind to accept it as your "true" reality.

2. Brainwaves and Conscious States

Shifting works best when your brain is in certain states:

Alpha: Relaxed but awake, like when you daydream.

Theta: The in-between state of sleep and wakefulness—perfect for accessing your subconscious.

Delta: Deep sleep. Some people shift directly through their dreams.

3. The Quantum Perspective

The Many-Worlds Theory in quantum physics suggests infinite versions of reality exist. Shifting aligns your awareness with a different version of yourself, allowing you to live in that reality.

How to Shift: The Basics

1. Preparation

Create Your DR Script:

Where you’ll be.

Who you’ll meet.

Rules (e.g., “Time stops in my OR while I’m in my DR”).

Safe words (to return to your OR).

Set the Scene: Find a quiet, comfortable place where you won’t be disturbed.

2. Choose a Method

There are many methods to help guide your mind into the void or DR. Here are some popular ones:

The Raven Method: Lie in a starfish position, count to 100, and affirm things like, "I am in my DR." Visualize your DR as vividly as possible.

The Pillow Method: Write your script and place it under your pillow. Visualize your DR as you fall asleep.

The Void Method: Enter a deeply relaxed state, focus on the darkness behind your eyelids, and affirm that you’re in the void (a blank state of pure awareness where you can shift instantly).

3. Let Go and Trust the Process

The most important part of shifting is letting go of resistance. Don’t force the experience—relax and allow it to happen naturally.

Signs You’re Close to Shifting

You might experience these signs as you approach your DR:

Tingling sensations or vibrations.

Feeling weightless or heavy.

Hearing sounds from your DR.

Seeing flashes of light or imagery.

Common Challenges and Solutions

1. I Can’t Relax

Try meditating before starting or doing a body scan (mentally relaxing each part of your body).

2. I Overthink Too Much

Focus on affirmations or play calming music to distract your logical mind.

3. Nothing Happens

This is untrue as this is an assumption. However, it may take a few tries before you get the hang of it

The Science Behind Shifting

While shifting isn’t officially recognized by science, many related phenomena align with psychological and neurological concepts:

Hypnagogia and Hypnopompia: These are the states between wakefulness and sleep, where vivid imagery and sensations occur. They’re key moments for accessing your subconscious.

Lucid Dreaming: Like shifting, lucid dreaming involves awareness and control within a dream. Many people shift through lucid dreaming techniques.

Visualization and Neuroplasticity: Studies show that imagining something activates the same brain areas as doing it. With repetition, you "train" your brain to accept your DR as real.

The Placebo Effect: Your beliefs shape your experience. If you fully believe you’ve shifted, your brain will accept it as true. Can be achieved with the Law of Assumption.

Myths About Shifting

You Can Get Stuck: This is impossible. Your subconscious will always bring you back to your OR when needed.

It’s Dangerous: Shifting is as safe as sleeping or meditating. Unless you decide to shift to a Zombie Apocalypse then duhh.

You Need a Perfect Script/Concept: Having scripts and a good self-concept helps, but they’re not required. Your intention is enough.

Tips for Success

Stay consistent: Shifting gets easier with practice.

Believe in yourself: Doubts can create mental blocks.

Use reminders: Read your script daily to reinforce your DR.

Be patient: Everyone’s journey is different.

P.S. At the end of the day, all you need is yourself. Only you can make you shift. It is not necessary to have a script/method because it's you who's going to make it work. So, do what feels comfortable for you and what works for you. Don't let others tell you otherwise.

[cherryredstars]

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Perverted Reader, Mentions of Male Masturbation, Female Masturabtion, Pillow Humping, Sexual Fantasies/Dirty Thoughts

Summary: Is it a blessing or a curse that you and Miguel share a bedroom wall? 

A/N: Here you go WHORES (affectionate <3)

Word Count: 1.4K (Not Edited)

Pt.1 Pt.2

You can hear him. 

You’re not trying too, although you can’t say you’re typically upset about it. It’s just… the walls are paper thin and the layout of each apartment is basically copy and paste. Which means his bedroom is separated from yours by a singular wall, and- guessing by how clearly you can hear everything- both of your beds are pressed against that shared wall. You promise that you’re trying really, really hard to ignore it even though you did take off your sound canceling headphones. In your own defense, they were starting to irritate your ears from how long you were wearing them.

And it totally has no correlation with the fact that your next door neighbor is very clearly fucking his hand on the other side of your bedroom wall. 

At first, you had thought it was an auditory hallucination. Something your mind was making up after being deaf to the world and doing nothing but processing notes and videos and textbook pages. But then you heard it again and again and again. A faint, consistent wet noise followed by low breaths. You furrowed your brows, face gravitating to the wall until your ear was pressed against the cold plaster. Your hands had gripped at the pillow in your lap, hands tightening around it when Miguel’s muffled moan floated into your ear. 

You had scrambled back, readjusting your crossed sitting position so you could press your thighs together. It was embarrassing how a singular, muffled moan had you hot and bothered. But it isn’t a singular moan. No, it’s more. He just keeps going, hissing and grunting on the other side of the wall as the wet noises get faster. You don’t even realize that your ear is pressed back to the wall, brain too focused on your neighbor and the pulsing heat that is starting to burn between your thighs. 

It’s too damn hot. 

You have to strip yourself of your plaid pajama pants or else you’d die from the heat. Your panties are just so uncomfortable with your wet and sticky arousal that it only makes sense to get rid of them, too. This is okay, you chant in your head as you reposition your body, knees digging into the mattress as your forehead sinks into your pillow. Your ass is forced into the air, the pillow that was once on your lap now resting in between your legs. There isn’t anything wrong with this, you reassure yourself as your hands start to trail down your body. 

You’re pressed right against the wall and from your new spot against it, you can more clearly hear Miguel’s sounds of pleasure. You shove your head deeper into the pillow, biting down to muffle the small whine that escapes you when your fingertips brush over your clit. You have to be quiet. Not only because you don’t want him to know what you’re doing, but also because you don’t want to snuff out his muffled noises and eliminate the risk of him stopping. 

Your fingers flick at your bud, rubbing and pinching at it. You try to mimic the way Miguel had touched you in his kitchen. It doesn’t feel the same. Your fingers are too soft, too dainty. You try to press your hips into them, huffing against the pillow. It feels good, but it’s not enough. From the other side of the wall, Miguel hisses out a quiet curse and you close your eyes. 

You can see it so clearly in your head. Miguel laying back in his bed, pants pulled down right under his balls. His shirt lifted up slightly so he can get a good view of himself, exposing his stomach. His large, rough hands fondling his balls as the other tugs up and down his length. You bet he’s big, in both length and girth. You had been too dazed when he walked you out of his apartment to pay attention to his obvious hard on, and you whine into your pillow at your stupid brain. But he has to be big. A man that large must have the equipment to match. His cock a demanding thickness that stretches you out, tip effortlessly parting your pussy lips as he pokes at your entrance. You moan at the thought, fingers sliding down from your clit and through the wetness coating you. You bite down hard on the pillow as your fingers penetrate. 

Your walls are extremely warm, your two fingers pressing and scraping against them. You know two of your fingers would equal one of his, and you wonder how many of your fingers would equal his cock. Maybe four fingers? No, no that still feels too small despite knowing trying to shove four of your fingers into you would be uncomfortable. Maybe- oh god maybe- it would be closer to your entire fist. Your hips buck at the thought. He would absolutely destroy you. But you’d take it happily. Would beg him to rip you apart and ruin you. Your tight walls would hug him snuggly, and your body would shiver from each drag of his cock. You would be able to feel every vein and twitch of his raw cock. Your body would buzz as he spilled his seed into you, warming your stomach with it.

You wonder what he’s thinking about as he moans again. 

You hope it’s you. You hope he thinks dirty, deranged things about you. Hope he’s replaying the moment in the kitchen over and over in his head just like you have. Your mind wanders back to the image of him jerking off, to his hand wrapped around himself. Is he thinking about you as he touches himself? Is his hand white knuckled as he desperately tries to make it as tight as he’d imagine your pussy to be? Is he trying to finish to the thought of spilling into you? Or is he thinking about something else? Maybe, instead, he’s thinking about how your mouth would feel around him. Instead of thinking about your tight cunt, he’s thinking about how your throat would contract with a gag as he forced you to take it all the way to the base. Imagining how thin your lips would stretch around his thickness and the warmth of your mouth. You’ve never sucked someone off before and you hope your inexperience wouldn’t turn him off. 

Your dirty thoughts make you more horny and more frustrated. Your fingers aren’t doing it. They aren’t hitting that spot inside of you that stays untouched. A spot that you know Miguel would easily reach with his fingers or cock. Your hips drop as your fingers leave your entrance, both of your hands coming up to wrap around the pillow your face is shoved into. You groan when your sensitive clit rubs against the rough texture of your pillowcase, hips shifting and bucking until you find the right angle. Your clit drags against the pillow perfectly, a burning pleasure that you’ve only felt with Miguel starting to swell in your stomach. Your whines and whimpers are absorbed into the pillow as you start to move your hips faster, crying out from the delicious friction. 

Miguel’s own moans and hissing is becoming constant too. Dragged sounds that feed into your own approaching release. Your eyes are squeezed shut, imagining Miguel bucking into his hand desperately. His back is arched, mouth dropped open as he gets closer and closer to his climax. Your own is right at its peak, and your hips are a frantic mess as they try to get you to the finish line. From the other side, Miguel lets out a guttural sound, long and dragged out. He must have finished. You whine out, your own release triggering. Your body stiffens as you finish, heaving as you pant. 

You lift your face from the pillow, the spot you had bitten down on dark with saliva. Your cheeks flush as you remove the pillow from between your legs, dark streaks of arousal staining it. You throw it on the floor, promising yourself you’ll take care of it later as you roll onto your back. Your chest is still heaving, and your arm is slightly tired from fingering yourself. You throw one of your arms over your eyes, sighing out as you think back on what you just did. You’re in the middle of scolding yourself when one last noise on the other side of the wall makes you freeze up. You get up quickly, pressing up against the wall to hear clearly. You pray he does it again, just to reassure yourself that you’re not going crazy. 

Because- and you swear with everything in you- Miguel O’Hara moaned out your name.

Part 4 Part 5

Extra 1

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[regressionschool]

Short Scene: a high like nothing else

The moment he closed the door behind him, the weight of the day hit like a tidal wave. Deadlines, meetings, and constant demands swirled in his mind, leaving his shoulders heavy and his head aching. He set his bag down by the door with a dull thud and exhaled deeply, letting the stale air of his stressful day leave his lungs. His heart craved one thing: relief, escape—something that would take the pressure off his adult mind.

He padded to the bedroom, his socks muffling his steps against the hardwood floor. The familiar stash hidden in the bottom drawer of his dresser called to him like a secret haven. Sliding it open, he revealed the soft, thick diapers folded neatly within, their white padding pristine, promising comfort. The faint crinkle they made as he picked one up immediately began to soothe his frayed nerves.

Holding it in his hands, he marveled at the softness of the padding beneath his fingers. The material was smooth but textured just enough to be inviting. He pressed it against his cheek for a brief second, inhaling its clean, powdery scent. It smelled of calm, of comfort, of a place where expectations didn’t exist.

Gently, he laid the diaper flat on the bed, its crinkle growing louder as he smoothed out the wings. The sound sent a shiver up his spine, anticipation building in his chest. He took a step back and began to undress, peeling away the layers of adulthood. His shirt and pants hit the floor without ceremony, leaving him bare and vulnerable, but also ready to shed the burdens of the day.

Before lying down, he grabbed the bottle of baby powder from the nightstand. He loved this part—the scent, the feeling, the ritual. It felt grounding, a deliberate step into a simpler mindset. As he shook the powder over his skin, a puff of soft white dust floated into the air, the sweet, talcum-like fragrance instantly relaxing him. He rubbed it in slowly, savoring the silky feel against his skin. It left a smooth, dry barrier that he knew would soon blend with the warm softness of the diaper.

Finally, he positioned himself over the waiting padding, lowering himself down with a sigh that escaped unbidden. The moment his skin met the thick, plush material, a wave of comfort washed over him. It was like sinking into a cloud, the padding cushioning him in all the right places. The crinkling sound seemed louder now, wrapping around him like an auditory hug, sealing him away from the harshness of the world outside.

He brought the front panel up, the padding enveloping him fully now, and smoothed it over his stomach. It was thick, snug, and utterly secure. The tapes came next, their satisfying “stick” as he pressed them into place adding to the tactile pleasure of the process. He gave the waistband a gentle tug to make sure everything was perfectly snug. The diaper hugged him closely, its soft bulk creating a sense of safety he hadn’t felt all day.

Reaching over to the nightstand again, he grabbed his pacifier. The rubber nipple was familiar against his lips as he popped it into his mouth, the gentle resistance as he began to suck grounding him further in the moment. The rhythmic motion helped his thoughts quiet, his breathing slow. The world outside blurred, leaving only the comforting sensations of the diaper and the pacifier to anchor him.

As he lay back against the pillows, he closed his eyes and let himself drift. The soft crinkle of the diaper shifted slightly as he moved, a gentle reminder of its presence. Then, the moment he had been holding off came naturally—a warm flood spread through him, the heat quickly absorbed by the waiting padding. His breath hitched as he felt it, the expanding bulk pressing softly against his skin, growing warmer, heavier. The sound of the diaper swelling with its quiet, muffled rustle only heightened the sensation.

He exhaled shakily, his entire body tingling as the warmth spread. The wetness vanished almost as quickly as it came, whisked away into the absorbent core. It felt like magic—his body was letting go, and the diaper was there to take care of everything. A sense of euphoria bubbled up, his mind floating higher with every second. The gentle bulk between his legs, now softer and fuller, was impossibly comforting. He shifted slightly, feeling the soaked padding squish faintly beneath him. It sent a small shiver of pleasure down his spine, grounding him further in this special state.

He sucked on the pacifier rhythmically, his adult thoughts dissolving one by one. The responsibilities, the deadlines, the noise of the world—all of it faded into the background. All that remained was the crinkle, the warmth, the soft embrace of his diaper. The safety. The simplicity. It wasn’t just comfort he felt; it was pure bliss, a high like nothing else. He was weightless, his body secure, his mind finally free.

[lurochar]

Yandere Alastor x Reader who refuses to talk and not just to him but to everyone. Maybe one day he came off way too strong to her and ever since then she hasn’t spoken a word. How would he react? It’s almost like she’s ignoring him as she always has the far off look in her eyes even when he’s speaking to her.

Not sure if this is quite what you requested, Anon, but hopefully it’s a little satisfactory >_<

Warnings: Yandere!Alastor, Violence

--------------------------------

Everyone is quite worried about you. They have no idea why you suddenly just stopped… talking, but Husk and Vaggie have a pretty good guess and it definitely has something to do with their hotelier because of course it does.

Alastor, on the other hand, thinks your reaction to his… proposal (not literal, but aww, if you took it that way, he wouldn’t have refused your darling little self) is cute at first. So you’re playing hard to get, making him work for it? Usually, it’s demons coming to him asking and begging for deals in exchange for their souls, not the other way around.

Perhaps he was a little too forward, blunt in asking for your soul right away? It seems he was a little too eager to have you solely for himself that he completely forgot his manners – he didn’t woo you like a gentleman should.

After a proper courtship, only then should he have sweet talked you into giving him your soul.

But after a while, you refusing to speak, to him, to anyone – just avoiding everyone in general, completely spooked by the near loss of your soul (and Alastor, on some level, can understand your way of thinking, you are relatively new to Hell after all), well, it’s starting to irritate Alastor a little. 

He does want to hear your lovely voice again.

So, he starts out small, casual things – acts of service, maybe cooking your favourite meal, doing one of your chores around the hotel, buying a trinket on one of his outings. He does hope you’ll be at least polite enough to thank him for what he’s doing for you, but all he gets is a shaky nod before you’re running to the ‘safety’ to your room.

That’s fine, there are other ways to make people talk.

He just didn’t want to have to use them with you, but he didn’t realize you were this stubborn and if his kindness was wasted…

Alastor goes to collect any and all acquaintances, friends, and family members of yours to be rounded up and brought to his radio tower. His shadow has forcibly sealed you in Alastor’s room at the hotel and you have to listen in absolute horror as familiar screams are being broadcasted to you through the multiple radios in Alastor’s room.

“My sweet Doe, I will stop this, but we must make a deal first. Do promise me you will never give me this dreadful silent treatment again and I won’t lay a finger on any of these souls again. Do we have a deal?”

You are completely frozen in fear, the screams echoing in your head. Is this a trick? If you go there, is that what Alastor would do to you too? You don’t answer Alastor’s question, you can’t.

There is a sigh over the radio and Alastor’s shadow perks up, picking you up a moment later and you’re silently panicking, wondering if these are your last moments alive as you and the shadow travel through the voids right into Alastor’s radio tower.

“Interesting. I didn’t believe I would have to go this far, but…”

A breath escapes you and you tense when Alastor pulls you up from the ground, drawing your back to his chest (though he has to lean down some) as he places his hands tightly on your shoulders, claws ripping the fabric of your clothes. “While I may prefer the auditory experience, some are visual learners, I suppose.”

At some point, you believe you completely dissociate, unable to keep watching Alastor brutally torture your friends outside the hotel and the few family members you had found and reunited with in Hell and it’s then that Alastor strikes.

He does cast a spell on you after he’s finished with what started this all, his proposal for your soul and now he’s thinking about it, a real proposal may be coming very soon.

It’s a spell intended to scramble your mind, thoughts, and memories if you ever decide to talk with Charlie and the others again (he honestly thought about just stashing you away elsewhere, but seeing as he spent the majority of his time at the Hazbin Hotel, you would be safest there too), that you would not recall anything that Alastor had just done to you or that he now owned your soul to begin with.

After all, he certainly did not need Charlie to call Lucifer up if it ever did get out what he had put you through just to get you to speak again and to get you to sign your soul over to him.

Alastor had what he wanted and he would not let a little deadbeat ruin it.

[facefullofsadness]

I'm gonna combine all 3 of these bc they're all kinda the same, hope u anons enjoy!

content - sub!yunjin x dom!reader, smut (phew let's see, cunnilingus, edging, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, some corruption kink, some g!p reader)

wc - 970

a/n - the first anon is real, never escaping writing huh yunjin! am I complaining though? nope! love my rockstar tall hot perfect gf! lemme write her as a literal sub this time LOL

okay so sub yunjin.

I stand by the whole auditory thing, she loves sound. so not only does she love hearing your moans, her moans, the lewd sounds coming from her cunt, any of the above, but also dirty talk. you love to rile her on by whispering naughty things in her ear and watching her body stiffen.

she's not sensitive and loves foreplay. 70 percent of having sex with yunjin is foreplay, her relishing in the feeling of your skin touching her's and the pleasure gradually building the more you proceed. this way, when you get down to actually fucking her, her body is so incredibly responsive.

dropping to your knees to push her skirt up and panties to the side, sliding your tongue against her slit and filling your mouth with her slick, yunjin moaning out into the hot air surrounding you two. her thighs tremble on either side of your head and her hand threads through your hair, the other hand holding her skirt up to let you do your thing.

loud, responsive, and needy. yunjin whimpers with every swipe of the wet muscle trailing her clenching hole, hips jerking with every brush of your tongue against her clit, and whining your name like it's the only thing she can coherently remember in her brain clouded with lust. pleas for more leak from her lips when you tease her because oh my god is it amusing to see her so ruined by your touch.

and the joy it brings you to see her cry out for you when you deny her another orgasm, her body thrashing and tears welling at her eyes because you're so mean :( needs to cum so badly but you won't let her because "baby, I'm so sorry but you don't deserve it yet."

"I've been such a good girl though, please please god please let me cum. I-I can't take it anymore...!"

you bring your hand to cup her cheek and use your thumb to wipe her tears, cooing as she rubs her thighs together to suppress the orgasm, "you know I can't cum if you don't do it."

"I know my love, just hang in there," you shoot her a warm smile to comfort her as you plunge three long fingers into her pussy, making her scream out and tears trail down her cheeks.

forcing her legs open and smacking her ass if she dare close them. mumbling absolute nonsense as her hole sucks your fingers in more and more with each pump, her eyes rolled back and hands clutching the bedsheets. you'd keep aggressively fingering her until she'd squirt all over your hand, arm, and the sheets, continuing till she's completely overstimulated and forcing another orgasm out of her, giving her all the climaxes she had been begging for minutes prior.

alternatively in a g!p reader world, you'd pull out your fingers, denying her another orgasm and forcing a sob to escape her throat. you pull back from her and hover over her shaking body, tears staining her cheeks, hair absolutely tousled, hands clenching at your shoulders enough to hurt.

"wanna cum baby? need it? tell me, tell me how badly you want me to fuck you until you cum."

yunjin cries, pulling you in to bury her face into your neck and beg, "y/n-ie please! it hurts so bad! fuck me! ruin me until I fall apart, please please... use your fingers, bury your tongue in me, fill my pussy with your cock, just please!! it's aching!!"

your eyes darken and lip slides into a smirk as she trembles under you, begging to be fucked senselessly, it would be a shame if you didn't listen to her! and so you did!

kissing her tear-stained cheek and whispering a reassuring okay into her ear before pulling back and resting the tip of your cock against her entrance, swiping up and down to collect enough of her wetness.

looking yunjin in her watery and pleading eyes before slamming yourself into her, a scream ripping from her mouth. her moans deafeningly loud with every intense thrust of your hips into her soaking hole. you pant into her ear and she grips onto you for dear life. her cunt clenches onto your throbbing member and it's difficult to move with every stroke, but you power through because she feels so fucking good, taking everything you give her so well.

she blabbers incoherently and murmurs continuous thank you's as you ram into her with no mercy, your pace impossibly fast. the sheer amount of slick and spit on and in her pussy makes everything so easy and pleasurable that you can't help but to feel like exploding soon. you hold her legs wide open and push deeper, bottoming out into her and feeling her cervix on your tip, making her throw her head back and your nails sink into her plush thighs.

you continue to rail her, completely pussy drunk and obsessed with how corrupted yunjin looks under you, a shell of the former confident hot girl you knew. nothing but a fuck doll, begging to be ruined by you. rubbing your fingers against her clit and watching as it sends her over the edge, her legs wrapping around your waist, her hands digging into your back, her throat sore with another scream erupting from her throat, her cunt gushing with cum against your pelvis. you cum deep inside of her, spurting out ropes of white liquid into her, filling her to the brim with your seed.

both of your guys' legs shake with pleasure as you fall on top of her borderline lifeless body. she's panting and gasping, trying to grapple onto air as you lick along her neck, tasting her sweat and smirking against her shoulder, her squirming with every action.

a/n - pretty short bc there's no concept behind it, it's more just headcanon/thoughts!!

[rottenpumpkin13]

What's the latest tea from Kunsel? 👀 🍵

When asked to spill gossip, Kunsel becomes an unskippable cutscene.

Kunsel: "Finally. I've been sitting on these for weeks."

Kunsel: "Zack appropriated the men's bathroom on the east wing of the SOLDIER base as a petting zoo. He's even charging people to pet the animals. It's booming, too. I heard he's even got a waiting list to pet tonberries."

Kunsel: "Word on the street says Reno's been delivering crates into the SOLDIER lounge labeled 'medical supplies,' but bystanders said they heard pills rattling. Sephiroth bought the stuff from him, which shocked a few people. They think it's illegal stuff. Real ones know it's the premium ibuprofen. The good stuff, not that cheap crap they give out at Medical."

Kunsel: "Angeal? I saw the guy walk out of the men's room, clear as day, with a faint lipstick mark on his neck. Thing is, no one went in or out besides him. So either his date is some kind of vent escape artist, or—my favorite theory—he's making out with ghosts now. Can't rule it out. He's weird enough."

Kunsel: "Oh, and Sephiroth. He's been spending his free time in the archives lately. Like, a lot of time. Apparently digging through old personnel files and Shinra history books. You know, looking for answers about his origins. Man, I would not want to be there the day he finds what he's looking for."

Kunsel: "There's a betting pool in SOLDIER about when Lazard's next mental breakdown will be. Current odds favor next Tuesday, but only because the bouncy castle Zack ordered online arrives next Monday."

Kunsel: "Genesis has apparently been writing self-insert fanfiction. Heard someone found a draft on his desk. It’s basically Loveless, but the protagonist is just him, but taller and with a better sword. There's also a Sephiroth kissing scene somewhere in there."

Kunsel: "Reeve's set to lose his shit any day now. Someone swears he might be Cait Sith. You know, the little robot cat? It sounds insane, but listen to this: during a meeting with the president, Reeve supposedly slipped up and said, in a full-blown accent "shove yer plans, Shinra, they're shite!" President didn't even blink, he was so alarmed

Kunsel: "And Hojo's been ordering tons of bananas. Like, crates of them up to R&D. No explanation, no context. Just bananas. Honestly, that's one I don't want to dig into. Whatever it's for, it's definitely bad news."

Kunsel: "Oh yeah! I ran into that blond cadet in the air ducts this morning. Cloud Strife. Man, he's so cool. I wish I had the balls to hover above the vent in Sephiroth's office and whisper "Your mother isn't Jenova. Go to therapy" down at him until he thinks it's an auditory hallucination, has a nervous breakdown, and takes the rest of the day off."

[melodic-haze]

Can I ask about sub Arlecchino being fucked with a strap-on in his office? I love your writing and sub Arlecchino is so... 😩

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Arlecchino x dom!fem!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Mommy kink 😜 aka reader is the 'Mother' figure to Arle's 'Father' ahahahahahah, reader with a strap referred to as a dick, overstimulation, semi-public? It's in her office so

☆ — NOTES: THANK YOUUU OMG I'M HAPPY YOU LIKE MY WRITING ANON❗️❗️SORRY THIS WAS ROTTING IN THE ASKBOX I had to do some stuff 😭😭😭 but it's okay bc I come back with a VENGEANCE

Ohhh dude the thing that just popped into my head you're NOT READY (delusional)

While she thought that battling her own children + the Traveller was the best move, it had kinda very much irked you. "I had trained them, it's fine," she says dismissively at the time when you confronted her and something inside you just kinda! Snapped!!!

If a Father has to have a hard hand on his children, then a Mother contrasts that by giving them a gentle touch

That DOES mean that you are to put anyone who threatens your children in any way, and Arlecchino is NO exception whatsoever

And what better way to punish her than to give her a taste of her own medicine in.. a different context?

One hand grabbing a fistful of her hair as you pushed her head down on the desk and the other clenching onto her hip as you moved her on your length, you're drilling into your lover relentlessly despite the slurred sobs that she had let out.

She had cum so many times by now, you didn't bother to keep count after the third time. Through that, however, you hadn't even entertained the mere thought of stopping, only reluctantly doing so when you ran out of stamina or needed to drink water—it's not as if you let her catch her breath as you did so, with the vibrator you had shoved into her at max setting whenever you needed to step away.

Your assault hasn't relented in the least, no matter how many times Arlecchino begged you to stop, no matter how many times she said to do better, no matter how many times she pleaded for you to go easier on her.

"Why would I give way to lenience when you hadn't done the same?" You mused coldly as you continued to plow into her over and over again, "You deem yourself exempt to my wrath, Peruere?"

You feel her try to shake her head in response before quickly following it up with a slurred defense, "N-No, 'm nn-- mmng! Not.. I--"

You clicked your tongue and gave her ass a loud smack, which earns you a garbled moan from the one underneath you, "You can't even form coherent sentences because of something you initially regarded as an 'unnecessary' action.. but that's okay."

The auditory mixture of her excess of slick between her thighs, your skin coming in contact every time you bottomed out inside of her, the pornographic noises that escaped her lips... It was all downright sinful, something completely unbecoming of her position.

But right now, she didn't care less. Or couldn't, more like, considering the complete lack of thought in her head. The only remaining thing within her mind was you and the way you put her in her place.

And the both of you knew that she relished the feeling of having things out of her control.

"You don't need to answer me," you continued, leaning down to press a kiss on the back of her neck.. before shoving her face down roughly as you straightened back up, "you just need to be put in your place, baby. Understand?"

You actually receive a desperate nod amongst the constant surge of white-hot overstimulation and constant orgasm.

"Good... Just don't resist and let mommy discipline you properly."

As if on cue, she cums again with a jolt, much to your delight.

Wanna fuck her so hard that her juices drip onto the floor and slide down on the side of the desk 😞😞 oughhghghh

There's that RISK of being caught in the midst of your lil session too—you could have it locked all along and while normal everyday Arlecchino would've noticed it perfectly fine, the Arlecchino you have underneath you is wayyyy too fucked out to actually realise in the moment so she's panicking but also? Her arousal is actually RAMPED UP are you kidding me

She won't admit to exhibitionism but there's smth There when she thinks of how the world would know that you have such a powerful Hold on her 🫶

But rn she doesn't care to move, not when her thighs are quivering and her pussy's aching to be filled all over again, practically getting used to the feeling of you inside her

Godddd break her enough and she might not be able to live without you ☺️☺️ or maybe you already have who knows ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️ just saying the moment you donned the title of a Mother was the moment that she was indesputably yours for you to do as you saw fit ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

[jd-loves-fiction]

"There’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close" + "I’m dying and I’m confessing my love for you"

✦ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: "The Kid" (Monkey Man) x GN!Reader

✦ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff + angst

✦ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: wrote this on the plane hope this good :)

[21:54] Chest heaving, legs burning and eyes darting for somewhere to hide, panic grips your heart like a vice. Spotting a suitable hiding place behind a dilapidated half wall, you grab your injured companion and urge him towards it. You let him lean on you while limping over to the wall and struggling over from the pain and blood loss.

“Hey, hey! Keep your eyes open, please.” You whisper, panting from running for several blocks to escape your pursuers, while brushing the man’s sweat-soaked curls from his sweat-slick forehead. His eyes droop and flutter, exhausted yet still squeezing a hand over bleeding bullet wounds. 

Multiple thunderous footsteps and shouts draw your attention away for a moment, looking just above the half wall to watch as the police force darts past where you’re hiding, making you breathe a shaky sigh of relief. A bloody hand grasps your elbow to direct your gaze back to its owner who lies bleeding and struggling to speak.

“Save your breath,” You plead, pushing down the rising queasiness to replace his hand with yours over the bulletwound at his shoulder and pressing down, ignoring the pained grunt he emits in response.

“There’s something… I need to tell you…” He wheezes, hand squeezing your elbow to hold your attention. But you shake your head – there'll be time for confessions later – you tell yourself. There has to be. If not… you won't think about that.

“Please,” he speaks, surprisingly firmly for a man losing time in your arms, leaving a bloody print on your cheek as he holds it to draw you so close you can feel every shaking breath, smell the sweat and blood on him.

His eyes, deep, dark and wet, take your focus, counting each of his long lashes, hoping not to forget the sight of him living and breathing. Though imagining him as anything else makes you sick right down to your heart.

Luscious lips move and oh, how you wish to see them quirk up in that rare, awkward smile – the smile of a man with so little good in his life and deserving of so much more of it.

“I–” he starts, or tries, before cutting himself off with a pained groan and a deep heaving breath that has you leaning forward to… comfort him? Kiss him?

What?

“I love you.” What?

The fact you see his lips moving around the words keeps you from thinking you've just experienced an auditory hallucination, but if the contrary were to be proven, you wouldn't be surprised.

You simply blink at him for a moment and that blessed smile is back again, born from your doubtlessly amusing expression. The sincerity of his gaze would've floored you were you not already sitting on the grimy street.

His bloody caramel hand slides over your skin, wet with sweat, grime and now his life's essence. You grab it, keeping it against you despite the sticky feeling it brings, “I’m afraid that might be the blood loss talking.”

Dark curls move in all directions as he vehemently shakes his head, eyes open and honest, genuinely terrified that his one chance to tell you how he feels is slipping between bloody fingers.

You take him in one last time – this is the man you love. Despite the mystery and the danger and the secrets. Because he cares, and shows it when it matters most.

And he will not die here today. Not on your watch. Not before you've properly savored this wonderful new feeling.

“I love you too.” You speak resolutely, arm reaching under his to support his body as best you can, “But if you intended for those to be your last words, though they are very lovely, I won't let that happen.”

Seeking his fluttering eyes, you hold his gaze, “You are not dying here tonight.”

Taking a deep breath, you begin walking forward out of the alley as he watches – falling for you all over again.

[ladycrimsonandblack]

i honestly don't have a lot of expectations for the summer hikaru died anime. like, yes, i want it to be good, and i want to enjoy it, but animation is not my art so i generally don't have any specific ideas about how the manga should be translated to the anime.

but i do have wishes about the soundtrack. specifically, i want it to be overwhelming.

i want there to be a buzz of cicadas in the background, always. the frogs should croak, the birds should sing; the wind through the grasses, the sizzling of the sun on asphalt. every sound should be ever-present and impossible to ignore. i want those comforting noises, those sounds of summer, to be almost a screech. loud. distracting. i want them to be claustrophobic. they surround you, and you can't escape. an auditory equivalent to the block of text in the manga; menacing and dark and so overwhelming that you can barely pay attention to what's happening on the page.

[candycandy00]

Human - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic

You’re a human-shaped cat girl curse in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Part 2

Notes: I got the idea for this after watching the latest episode and loving how they used horror movie music when Gojo was stalking Jogo. So this has horror elements.

Smut. 18+. VERY DARK FIC! Noncon/Rape! Torture! Pain! Gojo being a sadistic freak! Don’t read this if any of those things bother you! Reader doesn’t die but she goes through hell. You’ve been warned!

You had always loved humans. You loved the way they laughed, the way they moved, the way they loved each other so fiercely. From the moment you came into being, you longed to be human. 

You were a curse, and you were supposed to hate humans, to kill them. But you’d never harmed one in your lifetime. It was a blessing that you looked like them. The only visible difference was that you had furry cat ears and a long cat tail. In recent years you noticed young humans wearing fake cat ears as fashion accessories, and you loved it. Mainly because it meant you could walk among them and those that could see you wouldn’t even blink upon seeing your ears. 

You didn’t even need the ears to hear. You had a set of “human ears” as well, which you got your auditory information from. 

Over the past few months, you had even made friends with a couple of human girls who attended a college in the city. You looked around the same age as them, so you blended in well. 

This year, for Halloween, they invited you to come with them to Shibuya for a huge party in the streets. You were reluctant to go to big public places with them, for fear that they would introduce you to someone who couldn’t see you. But this Halloween party sounded so fun! And you could let your tail show and everyone would assume it was part of your costume. 

Your friends helped you pick out a dress to wear. It was black, to match your ears, slinky, with a slit up the side and thin straps at your shoulders. Your friends called it “sexy” and said it complimented your figure. 

On Halloween night, the evening had started out great, but of course it all went to hell pretty quickly. You saw the veil coming down, tried to hurry your friends along to escape without revealing what you knew, what you were, but it was too late. Your friends were sucked down into the subway station, and though you checked and found that you could leave the barrier if you wanted, you couldn’t abandon them. 

So you traveled down to where they were. You spotted some curses along the way but they ignored you, perhaps assuming you were on their side. You found your two friends standing in a corner, their hands clasped together in fear. When they saw you, relief broke out across their faces and they pulled you into an embrace. You didn’t know what was going on, but you had to protect them. 

It wasn’t long before a sorcerer showed up. You saw him hovering above the crowd like a god. He was tall, with snow white hair and a blindfold over his eyes. Even in a sea of humans dressed in outlandish costumes, he would have stuck out even if he were walking among them. There was something imposing about him. Something frightening. 

Then the curses came, and a fight broke out. Or more accurately, a massacre. The curses were killing humans to distract and frazzle the sorcerer, and you quickly ushered your friends to a far corner, as far away from the carnage as possible. You told them to remain there and keep their heads down while you went to check the situation. They didn’t want you to go, they were afraid for you, but you had to find out what was happening. 

When you got a little closer to the train tracks, you saw the sorcerer standing above everyone else, and watched him slowly pull his blindfold down. You saw the most haunting, beautiful, glowing eyes you’d ever seen. The sight took your breath away. And then, the real massacre began. 

The sorcerer dove in among the curses, ripping them apart, laughing with sadistic glee, eyes wild and crazed, mouth open in a terrifying smile. He was beautiful. He was monstrous. He was a nightmare come to life. 

What scared you most of all was how much he enjoyed it. This wasn’t a job for him, a duty. It was pure, unfiltered pleasure. He loved it. He loved the way their bodies ripped at the seams, the way their blood flowed and splashed, the cries of terror and pain. 

You retreated back to your friends, planning to shield them if anything went wrong. The action quickly died down. Whatever plan the curses had for the sorcerer failed. He’d slaughtered them all. You sensed the barrier come down, and you knew your friends would be safe. You also knew you had to flee. The sorcerer probably sensed you at some point, and your fear was that he would mistake you as being with the ones he’d killed, the ones who’d tried to kill him. 

When you had the chance, you took off, running up the subway tunnel, into the darkness, shedding your high heeled human shoes as you went. You found a small maintenance room along the way and went inside. It was dark and empty, and there was nothing but a table, desk, chair, and a couple of lockers in the room. You squeezed into one of the lockers and dampened your cursed energy as low as possible, then waited. If enough time passed, you would feel safe in assuming the sorcerer hadn’t noticed you or at least hadn’t considered you worth pursuing. 

You hid there, holding your breath, trying not to move an inch. But then you heard the door open, and your heart stopped. You listened as heavy footsteps walked into the room. You covered your mouth with your hand as tears trickled down your face. You just saw what this man could do to curses, what he enjoyed doing to curses. You didn’t stand a chance. 

The door to your locker flung open, and you were met with the most horrifying, unhinged grin you’d ever seen, wild, shimmering blue eyes boring into you. 

“There you are!” His voice was deep, with a distinctly gleeful tone. 

He grabbed a handful of your hair and tore you from the locker. “I’m not with those other curses,” you were crying, wanting to make that clear as soon as possible, “I don’t even know them!”

The sorcerer pulled your face closer to his and sneered at you. “So you just happened to be in the same place at the same time?”

You realized how bad it looked. “Please wait! I’ve never hurt humans! I love humans!”

He laughed then. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

Your whole body was trembling with fright, your face wet with tears. You were pulled against him, and you felt a bulge through his pants. Killing the curses had left him aroused. He really was a sadist! His face had turned cold and emotionless. You didn’t know which expression was more terrifying. 

You tried to pull away from him, and his hand slipped from your hair. He grabbed at one of your ears, and it sent a jolt of sensation through you. 

Your ears were incredibly sensitive to both pleasure and pain. When they were touched, it was almost as intense as as being touched between your legs. As his fingers closed over your ear, a moan escaped you. 

He froze. You clamped your hand over your mouth. You glanced up at his face, and you saw a flicker of surprise. He gave your ear a light squeeze, as if to experiment. Your entire body jerked, and your hand did nothing to contain another humiliating sound coming from your mouth. Your breaths became quicker. You squirmed and clamped your thighs together, trying to block out the pleasure emanating from your ear. 

You heard his voice say, “Seriously?” You glanced up and saw a wicked grin on his face, a strange look in those glimmering eyes. His thumb stroked over your ear, softly, and you couldn’t hold back your mewling cries. 

His eyes shifted down to your chest, as if just noticing your shape, the way your breasts heaved beneath the thin fabric of your dress, the way your cleavage nearly spilled out of the low neckline. His free hand slid one narrow strap down your shoulder, exposing one breast, making you whimper in shame. Then he was roughly grabbing the rounded flesh. 

He chuckled. “Why the fuck does a curse have a body like this?”

Your hands were frozen at your sides. You were too afraid to move. You had no choice but to let him molest you as he kept stroking your ear. He seemed to enjoy your distress, that violent, bloodthirsty look still in his eyes. But there was something else there, something that scared you even more. Lust. 

The hand groping your chest moved down, then slid under the slit in your dress, shoving itself between your trembling thighs. He laughed again. “I guess curses don’t wear panties,” he said, his fingers opening your folds and rubbing the small, sensitive nub inside. 

Your body jolted again, pleasure rippling through you. You tried to pull away again, despite your fear, but his hand left your ear and grabbed hold of your tail. 

You screamed. Your tail was more sensitive than your ears, and the harshness of his hand coiling your tail around it and squeezing hard made you see stars. He loosened his grip slightly, now rubbing your tail in a more sensual motion. You could feel the pleasure building again, with his hands stroking both your tail and your clit. You tried to fight it, tried to contain your pitiful moans, tried not to look at those lovely, eerie eyes that were watching your face. But you had always been a weak curse, in many ways. 

“Ahhhhh!”

The cry of ecstasy broke free from your lips, and your body spasmed as you collapsed. His hands held you up, still stroking your quivering flesh and your shaking tail, even as you panted and leaned your head over onto his chest in exhaustion. 

You heard him laugh. “I’ve never seen a curse cum before,” he was saying, his voice so close it sent chills down your spine. “Thanks for the show, but the fun’s over now.”

Fun? What part of this was fun? But within seconds you realized the humiliation you just suffered was fun compared to what he planned to do with you. His hand tightened suddenly on your tail, and just as suddenly, he ripped it off. 

Blood sprayed behind you. The pain was blinding, unimaginable, unbearable. You began to fall forward, but he caught you by your hair, holding you upright. You couldn’t even scream, your mouth opening and closing as you gasped for air. 

“Guess I found your weak point,” he said in a light hearted tone. 

When you finally regained your voice, after your body began slowly regenerating your tail, you pleaded with him. 

“Please let me go! I’m scared!”

He used your hair to turn your head so that you faced him. “And you think all those humans you guys murdered weren’t scared?”

“I didn’t kill anyone! I told you, I love humans!”

His grin faded. “Why would a curse love humans?”

You whimpered as his grip on your hair tightened. He reached up his other hand and roughly grabbed an ear, making you jump and cry out. “Because I want to be human,” you finally said, shuddering with sobs. 

He laughed again, a cruel laugh that made you hate him as much as you feared him. “That’s hilarious,” he said, then suddenly he grabbed a hold of your dress and completely ripped it from your body. You yelled out in surprise, then tried to cover yourself. He pulled your hands away from your body and shoved you onto the metal table in the middle of the room. 

You were on your back, completely bare, the gaping wound where your tail once was trying to close around the tiny nub you’d regenerated. You kicked wildly, thrashing about to try to keep him from climbing on top of you, but it was no use. He was immeasurably stronger than you. He straddled you, his knees on either side of your body. He looked down at you with a mixture of desire and disgust. 

Then, he unbuckled his belt and opened his pants. You were shaking your head before he even pulled out his massive cock, still rock hard from his earlier rampage. “Please, no…” 

“Shut up,” he told you, scooting back on the table to give himself enough room to shove your legs apart. “Stop trying to act human. It’s grossing me out.”

So you laid there, crying and shaking, as he took you. His thrusts were violent, satisfying his lust for your body as well as his lust for hurting curses. He was destroying you. That’s what it felt like. His hands were on your breasts, squeezing far too hard, then on your hips, gripping them with bruising fingers, then finally on your ears. 

Surprisingly, his touch there started out gentle. He caressed them softly with his fingers, and you couldn’t resist the pleasure it caused. You let out little whimpering moans and shivered under his ministrations. He grinned down at you, seeming amused by the fact that he could make you feel this way even as he raped you. 

After a few minutes of mortifying pleasure that left your heart and body confused, when you were on the edge of another orgasm, he suddenly gripped one of your ears tightly, and pulled. You cried out in pain, looking up at him with tear filled eyes. “Please, don’t!”

His face shifted. His grin was maniacal, his eyes deranged, as he oh so slowly pulled your hyper sensitive ear from your head. You screamed, clawing at him then nearly blacking out from the pain. All the while, he was still fucking you. 

One of his hands moved to your other ear, stroking it again in an almost loving fashion. You didn’t have the strength to fight or resist. You could only allow the totally conflicting sensations to wash over you in waves. The white hot pain of your ripped off ear and his cock tearing through you, and the mind melting pleasure of his soft fingers on your remaining ear. 

Eventually he leaned forward, his fully clothed body pressing against your nude one, and pressed his lips to your ear. He ran his tongue over it, gently, and it felt like your entire body was being stimulated. You came with a loud, whining moan, your back arching involuntarily against him. When you looked up, he was smiling down at you, not the frightening grin he’d been wearing, but a strangely kind one. In your hazy, half conscious state, you thought he looked like an angel. 

Then, he ripped your other ear off. 

Your eyes widened, your mouth opening in a soundless scream, your torn body clenching around him. And that’s when you felt his warm cum shooting deeply inside you. “You’ll never be human,” he whispered as he filled you with his seed. 

He pulled out and got off the table, zipping his pants and fixing his belt. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced at you. The anger and the bloodlust were gone from his eyes, he’d fucked it all into you and left it there. As if he had come down from a high, he stood quietly for a moment, staring at your wrecked body. He opened his mouth to say something, but the door to the room burst open, cutting him off. 

Your two friends ran inside, one of them clutching your discarded shoes. They must have seen them in the tunnel and come looking for you. Even after all the blood and violence they’d seen tonight, they still walked down a dark, scary tunnel to find you! 

The looks on their faces were horrific. They ran past the sorcerer and to your side, one of them yanking off her jacket to cover you with it. Then they rounded on him. 

“You sick fuck! What did you do to her?!”

“Rapist! Monster!”

They were screaming, tears on their own faces. You tried to sit up, to tell them to run away. Sorcerers didn’t attack humans as a general rule, but this one was such a terror that you didn’t know what he would do to two human girls who had interrupted his fun. 

He looked at them with bewilderment on his face. He gestured toward you and said, “She’s… your friend?”

“Of course she is,” one of them cried. She was digging around in her purse for something, then pulled out a small pink canister. “Stay the fuck away from her or I’ll mace you in the fucking face!”

You were sitting up on the table, with effort. Everything hurt. “Get behind me,” you told them. 

“No,” the one holding the mace said, “you’re always protecting us! You think we didn’t notice?”

The other girl was standing firmly in between you and the sorcerer. “We’ll protect you this time!”

He looked at them, at the can of mace trembling in the girl’s hand. They were scared, but they refused to back down. 

Several different emotions seemed to pass over his face. Confusion, realization, shock, horror… guilt? Was he just now realizing that he’d brutalized an innocent creature? Had he really thought you deserved whatever punishment he dished out because he assumed you’d killed humans? He didn’t say anything, he simply looked at you with a pained expression, and then he was gone, so fast none of you saw him leave. 

Your friends turned to you. “Let’s get you home. Do you need a hospital, or can you heal yourself?”

You blinked at them. Your ears were already growing back. “How did you know I can heal?”

They glanced at each other. “We’ve known you were different for a while now. We don’t know exactly how you’re different, but we think it’s amazing!”

You pulled them both into a hug, tears in your eyes. They were the silver lining in your life. They made you feel human, and that sadistic sorcerer could never take that from you. 

[yuesya]

Ember glances up at the sound of brisk footsteps and a wooden clatter, auditory signals that are indicative of a new guest who has just pulled out a chair at the counter that he’s manning. The small shop is only one of many eateries on the Luofu, and while it’s far from one of the more popular spots, it has its share of loyal customers, too.

But the smiling woman with red-violet hair who’d just sat down in front of him is most definitely not one of the regulars that Ember is used to.

“… Can I take your order?” Ember asks.

“I think we both know that I’m not here to order food,” the woman responds, “Although I wouldn’t say no to a berrypheasant skewer, if you have any of those in stock.”

Berrypheasant skewers are one of the more popular street foods in Luofu. They’re one of Ember’s favorites, too, so he’ll begrudgingly admit that she at least has good taste.

It’s the only reason why he decides to give in to his own curiosity, and turns around to begin putting together the woman’s order… instead of immediately calling the authorities on this unwelcome customer who is also a Luofu fugitive. Ember might not be an actual Luofu citizen, but that does not mean he cannot play the role of one. Given how well he’s been blending in so far, he’d say that he was doing a pretty good job of things.

… Not that this was likely to last much longer than today, given the Stellaron Hunter smiling at him. Luofu authorities would definitely discover that Kafka had deliberately made a detour to this food stall while she was supposed to be escaping and hiding her tracks. Which meant that they’d probably be investigating the shop as well, and Ember wouldn’t bet his chances on staying unnoticed. And those of the Xianzhou could be… sensitive, when it came to Iron Cavalry Knights.

Well, he had been thinking about returning to Glamoth sometime soon, even if it meant cutting short his time in Luofu far earlier than he’d been planning to…

“Why are you here, Stellaron Hunter Kafka?” It’s known to the Iron Cavalry that the leader of the Stellaron Hunters, Elio, is capable of some manner of foresight. Ember doubts that the Stellaron Hunter is sitting in front of him for no reason.

“To ask a question,” the woman responds. “In exchange, I’ll offer a piece of information that should be of interest to you. Of course, if you deem it worthless, then I’ll simply walk away and leave. Does that sound like acceptable terms?”

Ember arches an eyebrow silently. The Iron Cavalry are widespread across the stars, and he doubts that the Stellaron Hunters would–

“‘The northern lights that vanished from the stars are slumbering in a dream within a dream.’”

Aurora?

Ember frowns. Aurora had been rather silent recently, but… was she really…?

Looks like he really did need to make a trip back to Penacony, then. And, a ‘dream within a dream’… if one was talking about dreams, then… “Penacony?”

Kafka smiles and does not respond. Instead, after a deliberate pause, “What is Glamoth’s stance on Stellarons?”

[love-and-deepspace-wiki]

Surrounding Characters: Luke & Kieran

Ages: 18

(In the spring of 2046, they were both 16. At that time, Rafayel was "22", Zayne was 25, Xavier was "26", and Sylus was 26. Since Sylus is currently 28, this would mean the twins are currently 18)

Birthday: Unknown

Employer: Sylus

Occupation: (basically whatever tasks Sylus needs done)

Workplace: primarily, Onychinus' Base

(Update: In light of the new World Underneath story "Mischief", I've updated this post to include more detailed information about the twins. In addition to this post, Luke and Kieran each now have individual posts that are linked below)

Luke

Kieran

Random Facts

Details:

Luke and Kieran are twins employed by Sylus. They first appear in the Main Story when they rescue the protaganist from the "Man in Black" who had taken her from The Nest. They subsequently appear in the recently released World Underneath story "Mischief".

Throughout the game, they function like Sylus' errand boys, enforcers, assistants, etc. They're like his rignt hand men, handling various tasks at his (and sometimes, the protaganist's) request. They're described as "eccentric, rule-breaking twins" who "enjoy playing pranks". Their in-game note says they "often wear masks to conceal their faces", but we've yet to see either of them appear unmasked.

Note: Interestingly, the protagonist makes mention of expressions of theirs (for example, seeing them do things like smile) that wouldn't be visible behind the masks they're depicted in. So, I'm unsure if they have removed their masks in interactions we aren't shown direct footage of.

Background:

In the World Underneath story "Mischief", we learn that Luke and Kieran were both research subjects under the Ever Group's supervision. Their subject ID was 808. After multiple attempts to escape, they finally succeeded when they were 16.

After Protocore exposure, they both showed rejection reactions and researchers concluded that "transformation occurring within three months is highly possible". For this reason, they were being transferred to the disposal site for termination when they made their escape.

Since they were projected to only have three months of life left, they opted to go out with a bang by killing Sylus. Though there was a real possibility Sylus would kill them, Luke said he'd rather "get killed and die early" than transform.

Through their story, we learn that:

The twins have identical builds, movements, and (originally) identical faces.

The twins mutually influence each other's visual, pain, and auditory senses

Luke can see images within Kieran's field of vision and vice versa.

When one experiences pain, the other feels it in equal measure.

Restraining one of them effortlessly subdues the other

When they act together, they're even more coordinated than one person.

Luke is always in the light, and Kieran in the shadows.

They grew up on the streets before being placed at Ever's research facility.

While at Ever's research facility, the twins became experts at fighting each other. They learned it could earn them painkillers or sedatives. If the fight was severe enough, it earned them a pass on the next day's “trials”.

The twins often used their identical appearances to convince an opponent that there was only one of them. The first person who didn't fall for this trick was Sylus.

Masks:

After their attempt to kill Sylus failed, the twins expressed a desire to work for him instead. Upon this request, Sylus tells them to prove themselves by fighting each other.

In the middle of combat, one of the twins began to transform. From within his body, black crystals crawled up his body and face. Though the other twin didn't transform, they still experienced the same agony. To escape the pain, the transforming twin considered killing himself. But rather than risk harming his twin in the process, he ultimately opted to gouge the crystals out with a knife. As a result, that twin was left with grotesque scars covering his face and body.

In order to still look identical, Luke had matching masks made for them by one of the 303 twins (inferred to possibly be Philip from the Odd Workshop).

Clothing:

Both twins are only ever shown wearing matching black outfits, which consist of the following:

A bird-like mask with red accents

Shorts

Leggings/tights?

Boots

A black top

A hooded, long-sleeved top

A vest-like outer garment

A belt with ornamental feathers

Leather gauntlets

The only notable difference in their outfits are the number displayed on their hoods and the placement of a decorative ring on the attached horns.

Notable Quotes:

Kieran: "She ours, by the way. We called dibs a long time ago."

Luke: "I'm really curious… She's brave enough to drink from a black glass."

Interesting Facts:

Kieran refers to the "Man in Black" as "that ungrateful traitor"

When Sylus arrives, they leave to take care of any remaining troublemakers before ultimately bringing the protagonist to Onychinus' Base.