#But they have no place inside my house LEAST OF ALL in the tiny tiny study room on the fourth floor of the building

[swytdoll]

(19)virgin!choso has the hots for his older neighbor(35):(

perverted. that’s how he felt as he watched you wash your car, in shorts so tiny they were practically underwear and a white tank top that was so soaked it was see through. the way the fabric clung to your breasts made his mouth water. he had been staring for at least 30 minutes and had gotten to see them from all angles. it was torture, sweet torture. he wanted to take you right then and there in the grass and hear his name on your lips over and over.

you were old enough to be his mom. in fact, he had had you as a teacher back when he was in high school and that made him feel guilty for looking at you like this. but he just couldn't stop. he couldn’t stop himself from fantasizing about being with an older woman, one that knew what she was doing and knew how to use him. you would make him feel like your toy and he wanted that.

you looked up and caught his eyes. he blushed bright red and quickly turned away. maybe if he had kept looking he would have noticed the smirk on your lips.

you were a teacher in more ways than one. you could teach him how to be a good boy and give you the pleasure you deserved. he wanted to sink into the ground when you began to approach him. you were smiling sweetly, but your eyes said something different.

you leaned against the fence separating your property and his, propping up one of your arms on it. you gave him a soft grin and he wanted to die. you’re so pretty to him. glowing eyes framed with thick wispy lashes, pretty plump lips. he can't look away, mesmerized, he watches the way your lips part and the tip of your tongue darts out to wet them. the sight makes his blood run hot and his shorts grow tighter.

"hello mister kamo," you hummed, "where are your parents?"

"i-i'm sorry i-" had he been caught? were you gonna tell on him?

"what's the matter? are you nervous?" you cooed, "i just wanted to say hi to your mom, see if she needed anything for the barbecue later. is she around?"

"she's- um- out. getting groceries," he replied quietly, not daring to meet your eyes.

"oh? and what about your father?"

"he's...working late," choso said. he was sweating and the bulge in his shorts was now painfully obvious. he wanted to die, to disappear from embarrassment. you smiled and let out a giggle.

"are you okay mister kamo? you seem awfully nervous." you’re batting those lashes and he swears he could melt, he clears his throat. "yeah! yeah, i'm fine, totally fine!" he blurted out, "i'll- uh- tell them you said hi."

"okay," you quipped sweetly and began to walk back to your house, "if you need anything, just let me know, okay?"

he nodded, "okay."

his head was spinning and he couldn't think straight. he didn't want to be alone, didn't want to go inside, didn't want to leave and miss seeing you again. he could still smell the strawberry of your shampoo from where he was. it was intoxicating.

"choso," you called out and he snapped out of his daze.

"yes, miss?"

"can you come help me? i dropped my hose and it's really hard to pick up."

"o-okay."

you lead him around the side of your house and he saw the hose was indeed on the ground, the water running. his hands were shaking, but he bent down and picked it up anyway. the moment he stood, you grabbed his hand and placed it right on your chest. he squeaked and tried to pull away, but you held him tight.

"you can touch me," you hummed, "i don't mind. is that why you were watching me? do you like older women?"

"i- uh- well- you- you're-"

"use your words, choso," you chastised him and moved his hand lower, making him rub his fingers over your nipple, "good boys speak when spoken to. did i ever teach you that?"

"y-yes," he whined and his hips bucked into the air. you gave him a wicked smile and pushed him to the ground. he landed on his back, legs sprawled out. his cock was standing up, pressing against his shorts and there was a dark stain where his tip was.

"such a cute little thing," you giggled and knelt down in front of him. you grabbed his legs and pulled them apart before getting between them. he squirmed and you grabbed his hands, pinning them to the ground.

"please," he whimpered.

"please what? be a good boy and tell me what you want," you cooed, pressing his hands into the ground.

"i- um- please...touch me," he whispered.

"like this?" you hummed and reached down to rub his clothed erection. he bucked his hips into your hand and moaned.

"yes, please, miss," he gasped.

"good boy," you purred and kissed him, he was putty. "so good for me."

your hands moved to his hips and he lifted them so you could pull his shorts down. his cock was already leaking and twitching.

"you poor thing, did you get this hard just from looking at me?"

"y-yes, miss," he moaned, "i couldn't stop thinking about you, how pretty you were and how much i wanted you."

"oh, you're such a good boy, telling me exactly what you want," you cooed and gripped his cock, stroking it slowly, "i should give you a reward, hm?"

"please, please, please," he whined, his hips twitching up.

"okay," you replied and leaned forward. you pressed a soft kiss to his tip, smearing the pre-cum on your lips before wrapping them around him. his back arched and he let out a loud moan. he couldn’t believe this, anyone could see him and you. his parents could walk past the fence and catch you sucking off their son. but that was part of the fun. it was forbidden and he loved that.

the sounds of your gurgled chokes as you slurp his cock are like a siren's song to him, the way you so dutifully suckle him to the base and take his entire length in your mouth without a trace of resistance. your jaw is slack as he slides between your lips, his hand gently cradling the back of your head, urging you forward until your nose is pressed into his belly. he's so big that even though your eyes are rolled back, your vision is obscured by the sheer size of his erection. your throat feels like a fleshy sheath for him, your breath forced out in tiny, rapid huffs through your nostrils, and your tongue is pinned.

and you're not just sucking his cock, either. you're swallowing. and every time your esophagus clenches down around the head of his dick, it sends him hurtling closer and closer towards an orgasm that he's determined to wring out of you first. he can feel you starting to struggle for air, but the way you're still obediently sucking his cock even while your lungs burn from a lack of oxygen.

“god," he rumbles, his voice like the sound of boulders shifting together. his grip on the back of your head tightens, and he grinds against your face, your nose and lips mashed up against his skin.

your stomach growls and churns in a desperate plea for nourishment, but the way he fills your throat is a completely different hunger. you can taste his pre-cum, his magic thick and warm and tingling on your tongue, and you suck and swallow with more enthusiasm. even though you're struggling to breathe, the idea of drinking his cum makes you feel like a starving woman given the key to a buffet.

"j-just like that," he praises you, his words coming out in a hiss as you clench down on him, your throat tightening in a futile attempt to keep his cock from pushing so deep into your airway. he whines when you withdraw, a string of saliva connecting you two.

"you taste so good, choso," you murmured, "have you had many girls do this to you?"

"n-no, miss, never," he groaned, "only you."

"and do you want only me to do this to you? do you want me to be the only one that knows how good you taste and how cute you sound?"

"yes! yes, miss! i want it to be only you, please," he babbled. you smirked and kissed his hip.

"well then, i better take good care of my boy, huh?"

"please, please," he whined, pushing his hips toward you.

"okay, i'll make you feel really good, sweetie."

you took his cock back into your mouth, licking at the tip and stroking the rest. his head was spinning and he could hardly breathe. you felt too good, looked too good, sounded too good. your soft lips wrapped around him, sucking and licking, teasing and pleasing. it was too much and yet not enough. his body was on fire, burning and aching.

his knees buckle as your warm hand palms his balls and your tongue traces the veins of his cock. he lets out a whine and grips your hair. you pull off his dick, letting it fall against his stomach. you press a few soft kisses to his tip, watching as his cock twitches.

"miss," he whimpered, "it hurts, please."

"what does, sweetheart?" you asked.

"please, let me cum, miss," he begged.

"already? did i make you that horny?"

"please, miss," he whined and bucked his hips.

"alright," you hummed, taking him back into your mouth.

"thank you," he breathed.

you bobbed your head, taking him as deep as you could. his fingers tightened in your hair and he bucked his hips. your nose pressed against his pelvis and your throat clenched around him.

"i'm close," he moaned, "i can't, fuck, it's so good."

a few more thrusts, and his movements become erratic. you're dizzy from oxygen deprivation, the edges of your vision growing dark, when suddenly his cock twitches inside you, and his hot, sticky cum fills your stomach. there's so much of it that you're actually able to feel yourself swell a little with the volume of his release, and the sensation makes you whimper and whine.

"you did so well," you cooed, crawling up and laying next to him, "was that your first time?"

"yeah. . . s-sorry i finished so quick." he mumbled, cheeks tinted brightly.

"you did so good," you repeated, pressing a kiss to his temple, he felt like he was going to pass out.

“i’ll see you tonight at the barbecue, yeah?”

he nods, fuck, you’re gonna be the death of him.

*peeps around corner* dare i say part 2?

[ohwowimlonley]

ohhhh free use with poly!marauders would be something like the boys making it hard for reader to do watch a movie because they keep using her holes and passing her around. imagine the boys sitting in one couch and the reader is seated in remus' dick, waiting for him to cum until she is passed to the other boys 😵‍💫

Changed this a tiny bit to fit a bit better but here :) (btw its roommates!marauders)

Cw for free use/advanced consent

-

You’re alone in your room, curled up in the corner of your bed, blanket covering your thighs as you finally start watching you’re favourite movie. It’s the middle of the day, so you’re the only one at home while the boys are out at work. See, you and your roommates had come to an agreement; they would go out to work and pay the rent and bills and buy groceries (and occasionally gifts for you), allowing you to spend your days as you please. In return, they ask for only one thing: your advanced consent.

Now, let’s not get silly here, you can always tell the boys no at any time, and they constantly remind you of that fact. All the agreement means is that they don’t have to ask you, and sometimes they pull you away from what you’re doing when they really need you. There are also a few rules in place. For example, you shouldn’t wear panties around the house (that is, excluding extenuating circumstances), and you shouldn’t touch yourself before asking for their help first.

Just as the plot starts to get good, your bedroom door creeks open. You jump, not expecting anyone to be home for at least and hour and a half, but relax when you see it’s only Remus. Once he determines you’re not in the middle of something vital, he pushes the rest of the way into your room. He doesn’t say a word to you just yet, just pulls his tshirt over his head and works on unzipping his jeans, pulling out his cock from his boxers and tugging on it.

“Rem! You’re home early,” you grin up at him, not bothering to ask him why, it doesn’t matter so long as he’s home. He makes a noncommital ‘hmph’ sound as he clambers up next to you, grasping at your him and turning you onto your stomach, letting your shirt rise up and expose your pussy to the room, still puffy from James using it this morning.

“Shush,” he grunts, but he doesn’t really mean it. He just wants to get inside you as quickly as he can, “boys’ll be home soon, wanna have you first,”

You go to respond, but Remus interrupts your train of thought by letting a fat glob of spit fall from his lips onto the folds of your pussy and follows it with scraping his fingers through the stickiness. He wastes no time at all before slipping his cock into you, not going slow like he usually does to let you get used to his size.

You whine loudly at the burn his cock leaves you with, and while he doesn’t slow down he does set a soothing hand on the small of your back and bends over yiu to press a kiss to the bcak of your neck as he starts up his fast pace. It doesn’t take long for you to get used to the stretch, and you let your mouth drop open in a long, continuous moan.

You lose yourself in the sensations, almost forgetting about the movie still playing in the background as your roommate manhandles you all over your bed, using his full strength to let out his frustration on you. Remus hears the soft click of the front door opening, but you don’t, so you let out a confused whine when he pulls out of you.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he soothes, seating himself at the head of your bed and pulling you over his thighs, slipping himself back into you, “boys’re home, gotta make sure they don’t take my girl, huh?”

You don’t respond. You can’t, what with Remus slipping his fingers against your poor, aching clit. The door to your room is already wide open, so James and Sirius can see the two of you as soon as they get to the upstairs landing. James clears his throat and you whip your head around to see your two other roommates standing side by side, watching you take Remus’ cock. You make eye contact with Sirius, and he rolls his eyes playfully.

“Told you he’d get home first,” he jabs his elbow into James’ rib before taking his hand and sitting on the end of your bed with the other boy in tow.

“Your fault really, Pads,” he points out, then smiles up at you, shrugging his shoulders, “the boys were arguing this morning about who got to have you first when we got home,”

“I was gonna share with Jamesie here, but Moony’s a stinkin cheater,” the boy in question doesn’t pay them any attention, just renews his grip on your hips and brings them down to meet his own thrusts.

“Rem!” You protest, turning back towards him and putting your palms on his chest to keep your balance. You can feel him throbbing inside you, a telltale sign that he’s close, and thank goodness for that because you’re getting there too, and on days where they pass you back and forth like this, it’s best if you cum as little as possible in the beginning.

“Who’s it gonna be next, love?” James is always more careful with you, his voice always questioning, never demanding. This by no means indicates that he isn’t just as desperate as you. In fact, on days where it’s all three boys, theres never a time where he isn’t practically forcing his cock into you.

There’s no opportunity for you to even try to answer his question, because Remus is anchoring you to him and spurting his cum deep inside you.

Sirius goes to tug you from Remus’ lap, but he locks his arms around your back and prevents you from moving even an inch further away from him. Sirius and James let out grumbles of displeasure.

“Rem, honey, share,” you remind him. When he eventually lets you go, James gets to you first, “can I face this way? I wanna watch my movie,”

All three boys chuckle amoungst themselves, and silently vow to make it as difficult as possible for you to watch your movie.

[dollyichi]

MAD PUP

kaminari denki x f ! reader ᯓ★ 2.7k words. m—dni. established relationship / both are pro-heroes / m-rec. oral / mentions of injury / c^m in pant!es / not proofread

an entry to my “ milk and cookies “ event with the prompt #6 “no don’t take it off, i want it just like this.” requested by an anon!

your boyfriend’s sulky and playing hard to get because of a little misunderstanding. that’s fine, you always know how to get your way in the end.

“denki… please don’t ignore me!” you’re on your knees beside him on the couch, tugging on his sleeves. “are you mad at me?” as if he could resist those doe eyes—but right now, he has to.

you got home late today because you passed out during a mission and was only brought home when you were given the clear after waking up. he wasn’t mad about that—he was more relieved you were alright. but since you’re finally home, he was mainly mad with the ‘fact’ that you left him early in the morning without even telling him where you’re headed off to. shutting the front door so quickly, him trying to run down the stairs to catch up to wish you good luck, then you’re suddenly gone the whole day—not even leaving a note, no texts, no calls—just pure silence.

very out of character compared to the you that he knows—sweet, loving, actually giving him actual attention? (maybe a bit of an overreaction.)

you’ve been dating for three years and you’ve never done that, not once, neither did he. besides, he can’t recall anything that could’ve gotten you upset at him.

then there goes the overthinking: are you cheating? are you sick of him? not even a little kiss before you go?

if you can’t even say a simple ‘goodbye,’ then he shouldn’t have to greet you with a ‘welcome home.’

when the bells start to chime and you’re going inside the house, your lover isn’t there looking at you like an excited puppy. it makes you raise a brow but it wasn’t that much of a bother. you figured he was probably asleep and resting.

you use this time to take a shower, hoping to spend time with him after—this had his eye twitching from how calm you’re being as he watched from behind the wall that connects to the hallway. “didn’t even bother to find me.” he mutters with a whimper.

the best attack is showing you that he is definitely ignoring you. and thus, when you finish your shower and you catch him in the living room, you get on the couch to hug him immediately. “denki! i really missed you so much today!” yet he doesn’t move, doesn’t look, doesn’t even talk, and refuses to let you cuddle up to him.

confused and oblivious, you place a hand on the side of his neck, “you got no fever though.” he shakes your hand away, “huh? you got hit with a quirk or something?” you say with puffed cheeks.

he’s leaning on the edge of the couch, turning his body slightly to the side, glaring away. somewhat amused with how you’re deliberately trying to get him to look.

‘that’ll give you the taste of your own medicine!’ he reassures himself, but it’s so. damn. hard.

you’re so pretty right now—as always—but especially, now.

you don’t usually have to beg him for anything, you hardly do. you rarely ever fight and it was always easy to make up when you argue. today was just the worst of it. and he wanted a little bit of revenge for feeling left out of your day but he feels like he’s being beaten to a pulp in this silent battle he’s made.

you’re batting your eyelashes, pressing your thighs together. ass so plump against the tiny shorts you always liked to wear at home. hair a little bit damp, probably rushed drying it, towel around your neck, tight shirt. listing all these little details in his head since now was the only time he got to see you properly for today—this was torture for him too you know!

the cherry on top was definitely the lip balm that’s on your lips that you use before going to bed. he’s internally groaning because he always kisses you when you get home—no! you deserve at least this much.

‘ahhh! don’t get hard. don’t get hard. you’re supposed to teach her a lesson!’ he’s doing his best to distract himself and not let the blood flow directly get down to his pants.

you’re so confused why he wouldn’t even look at you. maybe he’s lost it? or was the injury he got yesterday getting to him?

“tch. you don’t wanna look at me, huh, denki?” ‘you’re so cute.’ “then i’ll make you look dummy.” ‘god, you’re really fucking cute.’

the next movements you make has him frozen in his seat, for real this time. watching you move down to the carpet in front of him and tugging his sweatpants down alongside his boxers. already kissing the tip of his dick’s that slightly hard, hands dragging on his body, resting on the back of his thighs, then sensually rubbing up and down.

you suck on it experimentally, and he almost chokes on his own spit. you’re so naughty and dirty, immediately targeting his most sensitive part at the get go.

he never expected you to fight back this hard. he rarely even lets you suck him off cause he knows he’s going to cum just from seeing you take him in your mouth. almost forgetting that ‘lesson’ he wants to teach you.

so he doesn’t look. he doesn’t look but he’s already shaking. gripping onto wherever he could while you’re licking him. doing his best not to buck his hips, letting you have your way but he refuses to let you win… at least not this fast.

maybe a little peek wouldn’t hurt- no he can feel your eyes on him.

and he’s not wrong. you’re making sure your pretty eyes are on him at all times while you’re jerking him off with your hand. using your tongue to lick along his head that’s twitching every time he feels it flick. he’s breathing hard so hard, chest heaving, face contorting—he’s definitely feeling it.

his breath hitched suddenly. feeling your lips sucking around him so softly. he exhaled slowly from the warm, moist feel of your tongue. he’s getting stiffer and harder each second.

if you keep teasing him like this he’d give in. you chuckle against him, which gets him to finally look, a little shocked from the vibrations. as stubborn as he is, he’s still not saying anything, still refusing to touch you—what’s wrong with him?

you take him in deeper. wrapping your hand around the shaft of his cock while your lips inched further. letting his dick slide against your tongue. you’re doing your best to see his every reaction was you looked up through your eyelashes. when your eyes meet he’s already averting his gaze—he’d cum immediately.

it’s crazy how the shine of your balm is mixed with his pre, coating your lips prettily while it’s wrapped around him. bobbing your head up and down so, so slow. he’s already melting. mouth slightly parted while his eyes narrowed down on you.

his fingers are twitching wanting to touch you but he’s still so stubborn. you pull away, continuing to kiss him all over. taking your hand to spread his legs even further that’s getting him embarrassed.

he’s got that face, when you’re trying hard not to be mad but it’s not working in the slightest—you already know you got him.

‘a bit more.’ you think to yourself.

“f-fuck i’m gonna cum.” he says in a whisper, unfortunately you didn’t hear it properly.

denki knows it’s a crime to not be able to fuck you or touch you but he wants to keep up his ‘pride.’ even though it’s definitely tempting while you stared at him all wide-eyed with a guileless expression.

eventually he takes your hands, intertwining them with his as he rests them on top of his thighs.

0 - denki 1 - you

if he wasn’t so cute right now you would’ve stopped right there, when he’s so close and you suddenly deny him of it—but there was a possibility of you being in the wrong.

no matter, this is your win, he at least admits that whole heartedly. he promises to himself that he’ll never challenge you again (as if you knew that.)

“mmph~ baby i wanna cum with your pussy…” he manages to croak out. pushing the strands of hair away from your face.

he’s so close he knows if you go even faster he’s going to burst. you let him go with a pop, licking your lips. you’re smiling to yourself, ‘maybe this strategy isn’t too bad actually.’

his lips quiver as he looked at you.

suddenly, he’s pulling you up from under your arms, seating you on in his lap. “you ignored me today baby.”

“i’m sorry i did my best to get home as quick as possible.” you huff.

“then why didn’t you at least kiss me goodbye?”

you tilt your head, “because you might wake up. and i didn’t want you to get too startled in the morning. you’re still recovering you know?”

“then why didn’t you at least leave a note?”

“i did!” you pout, “i even saw it on the floor when i got here.” he did accidentally hit the fridge while he tried to ‘run’ (wobble) towards you. that explains why didn’t couldn’t see it.

you did say you worked your best today especially with the unusual high rates of villains suddenly showing up in the area.

he lets out an exasperated sigh, you stay quiet for a bit.

“you’re not mad at me?”

“so you’re not mad at me?”

you both say at the same time. you both stop to look at each other, finally taking a proper look. it was obvious from the glimmer of both your eyes that you missed each other, especially from the scare you both got yesterday when he got hit.

“i was hoping to get a kiss on my head you know… it might heal me even faster!”

“you got tons just now though?”

he snorts, “pfft! well not exactly that… but i’m not complaining.”

he pulls you closer, but you make sure not to bump his head. “you still wanna cum?” he nods.

you take your shorts off with a swift motion. you bow your head towards his cock, letting spit trickle down to his head and he’s whimpering at the sight, spreading it on his shaft with each pump of your hand. he’s watching you with an excited grin from your shoulders.

you tilt your head to face him with half-lidded eyes and your hand tight around him, flicking up and down, a trail of spit is still hanging from your lips, visibly connecting a the tip of his cock on your mouth—exactly how it was a few minutes ago.

his hand wrapped around yours that’s pumping him, slowing you down. “h-hahh baby~ just go steady this way.” he’s suddenly so close again before he stopped you.

“n-not fair, at least let me play with your pussy…” he’s so cute. aside from the bandage on his head that has you frowning, the visible tears forming at the corners of his eyes and his cute little pout has you relieved. he’s finally acting like his indulgent self.

his other hand’s trying to tug on your shorts. eventually pushing down the fabric finally exposing your clothed cunt. cooing at the sight of the very visible damp spot at the center of it all. “nice panties baby, real cute.” he chuckles. it’s as he describes it, cute. a pikachu tail patterned pair that matches him, isn’t that convenient.

“d-don’t tease me! you got this for me after all…” you say, already raising your hips to take it off but he stops you. “no don’t take it off, i want it just like this.” he whines, wasting no time to slip them to the side just enough to get him to slide his cock along your slit.

gently pressing the tip against your hole, he ran it back to the front, rubbed it against your clit. it’s just rubbing against you however already making so much noise. you didn’t think you were so turned on from your boyfriend who’s spoiled you rotten suddenly so cold, stubborn, and playing hard to get.

“i love you… denki…” your clit’s so swollen and sensitive from the friction as you grind on each other. “but i-i d-don’t want you to do too much right now though…” you tell him.

“i love you more. so don’t underestimate me baby. just a little hit on the head wont stop me from making you feel good.”

‘as if it was actually little,’ you think to yourself.

he slowly moves your underwear downward, not removing it entirely. letting him slip both his hand and cock from underneath.

he places his tip against your clit, as if he’s kissing it himself. you cried, not caring about the unintelligible sounds coming out of your mouth. feeling his middle and ring finger enter into your pussy from behind, giving you the extra sensation. it’s crazy, feeling so much from the front and inside.

with a shaky hand you reach down to cup his cock. pressing a little harder to help him get there faster. most of your senses were muffled, like grain and static—all hazy.

his fingers constantly pump into you, your walls taking them so deeply he barely even pulled them out. it sent shockwaves through you every time his tip circled your puffy bundle of nerves.

your legs start to tremble from how good he’s making you feel. nothing but choking sobs and his name in broken whimpers left your lips. your walls slightly trembling around his finger made him know you were getting close. he peppers the side of your mouth with kisses easing you into your own peak.

getting dizzy from the sounds of the lewd squelching of your sexes and the way yours and his hand get sloppier by the second. that little knot in your stomach getting tighter with every motion.

before you know it your entire body twitches in time with your intense climax hitting you so suddenly. still, denki’s fingers doesn’t still inside you, letting you ride out your orgasm on his fingers while your walls constantly spasm around them.

fingers curled deep inside you while he continued to jerk himself with his other hand, tip hitting your sensitive clit that has you hissing from the slightest touch.

his breathing was labored, sticking out his tongue against your neck while trying to reach his own high. he’s so sexy when he desperately wants to cum.

you pull his fingers out, while your other hand fixed your panties, letting it hit against his tip that’s leaking so much, wetting the spot even more. “h-hah… so close baby… so close… gonna cum in your panties- mmhh~ gonna make a m-mess just like you.”

he inhaled through his teeth, repeating your name in a chant-like way, making choked sounds as he reached his climax. feeling every shot of his load onto your inner thighs, feeling every drop of warmth to drip down and pool at the bottom of your underwear. you tremble when feel it trickle down against your cunt.

denki places gentle, moist kisses on your shoulder, finally both calming down from your high from how intense session you both had. your bodies to gradually sink deeper against each other and on the couch.

it was all loving and tender till you see your boyfriend make that face of his when he overdoes it. “stupid! look what happened.”

you immediately stand up to get an ice pack to cool him down, however the post-clarity hits you and the uncomfortable feeling of your juices and his slick collected in your cotton panties was not the best sensation.

it’s as if denki’s vision focuses immediately on your inner thighs, seeing the fluids flow down. it gets him to almost sit up slightly with his cock getting hard again—almost gaining complete and proper consciousness out of sheer arousal alone.

with the towel on your neck you try to wipe it off. you can hear him whine under his breath, not liking what you’re doing at all.

“holy shit… something really hurt your brain this time!”

“one m-more time?” he asks weakly.

you profusely shake your head, crossing your arms. “shut up!”

you take a mental note to be stricter this time. no more sex till he’s properly recovered, and to buy better refrigerator magnets.

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : HAPPY NEW YEAR! lmk what you think of this fic and ghe dynamic!! i am so bad at male rec i took everything i had in me (that i have right now) to think of this… i love denki so bad btw

[thevoidstaredback]

It's always graveyards. Why is it always graveyards? They're creepy as hell and, well... that's it. On the bright side, the Protection Spirits watching the gates recognize him and realize the danger he's in. Well, maybe he wasn't in real danger because the Bats and Birds don't really do the whole purposefully harming civilians things, but they are scary as hell! Chasing him down like a bat straight outta hell- obviously he was gonna run! They cornered him! Maybe he'll invest in getting them lessons in how to interact with people in and out of costume?

Honestly, Nightwing, Danny expected better of you. At least Red Hood and Signal know how to treat innocents.

Here's the thing about Protection and Guardian Spirits, though. They don't like intruders. If you're running from something and you don't have time to ask permission to enter, you best say "thank you" and bring them shiny things on your next visit. If you do have time to ask permission, you ask permission. If they think you're a threat or rude, they won't let you enter whatever they're guarding.

"Thank you," Danny said as he slowed to a walk further into the graveyard, the sound of the gates slamming closed behind him confirmation that the Bat and his gaggle wouldn't be following him in.

Wasting no time, Danny pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket. It was a handy little thing he'd picked up during his stay in the House of Mysteries. Draw and door, tell it where you wanna go, open it, and go through! Beetlejuice style. Though, unlike what the Handbook for the Recently Deceased says, these doors won't actually open a door to the afterlife. He fixed that tiny glitch a while ago.

Anyway, a quick few chalk lines on the side of a mausoleum later, and Danny was opening a door to Fawcett, Philadelphia. Probably not the best choice, considering that he was trying to stay away from the Justice League, but it's better than Metropolis.

"Whoa." Damn it! He should've stayed home. "What was that, mister?"

Danny made sure the door closed behind him, praying for strength. Why did he feel like several deities were laughing at him? "Hey, kid. Can you, um, maybe not say anything about that?"

The kid, short brown hair and a red jacket stood out the most to Danny for some reason, seemed very amused. "You're gonna have to buy my silence."

Again, Danny let out a quiet, long suffering sigh. "Coffee is so not worth it." Looking at the kid, he said, "Alright, fine. I was getting coffee anyway, I'll buy ya lunch. Know any good places?"

Grinning, the kid cheered, "Hell yeah! Follow me!"

Resigned, Danny followed after the kid, easily keeping pace. About a block later, he figured he should probably get the kid's name. "I'm Danny."

"Billy."

"No last name?"

"Fae rules, dude. What's your excuse?"

He had to give it to him. "Touché."

Another three blocks of walking, Billy finally stopped at a cafe. It was a quaint place with stained white brick and a dark grey roof. There were metal chairs and tables outside the building surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The table umbrellas and the awning over the black door were light blue, matching the curtains in the inside.

The inside walls were painted baby blue with a white ceiling and a pinewood floor. The tables and chairs were all stained black with light pink cushions and table cloths. The curtains, as observed before, were all baby blue, tied back with baby pink ribbons. The lights were barely yellow, giving the room a warm feel. The counters were white with black paneling on the outside and white granite as the tops.

"Welcome in," the young man at the register greeted with a smile, "What can I get you two started with today?"

Danny envied the man. He'd obviously not been doing this long enough to gain the veteran's shine to his eye. He turned to look at the menu after telling Billy to get whatever he wanted. A mistake he'll probably pay for. "I'd like a large Red Eye, equal parts coffee and espresso, with cinnamon, honey, chocolate syrup, mint, and vodka, please."

The 'newbie' light in the man's eyes dimmed a little bit. "Um, we don't carry vodka." Glad that's the only thing he's worried about. Priorities.

Danny clicked his tongue. "Oh, well, it was worth a shot. I'd like everything else, though, please. Mix it at your own discretion."

"Alright," he was very valiant to go back to grinning, "Anything else?"

Danny motioned for Billy and the kid stepped up. "Can I get a large mocha, three chocolate chip cookies, and two sandwiches?"

The blond entered the order. "Of course! That'll be $25.37." A quick card swipe from Danny. "Thank you very much, we'll have your order out to you soon!"

The two didn't say a word as they chose a table in the corner. Danny let Billy take the seat that was open to the rest of the cafe so he wouldn't feel cornered. He had a good view of the door, though, so he wasn't complaining.

"So, how'd you do that?" Billy asked after they'd gotten their orders.

"How'd I do what?" Danny sipped his drink.

"How'd you walk outta that wall? It's solid!"

"Magic."

"I guessed that much."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Will you teach me?"

"No."

"You didn't even think about it!"

"Okay," He paused. "No."

"Not fair." he pouted.

Putting his drink on the table, Danny summed as much fake-it-till-you-make-it energy as he could. "Magic isn't a toy and takes years of practice to get a handle on, not to mention you have to actually have an aptitude for it before you can even try. Besides, I don't know you nearly well enough to trust you with anything else."

Billy finished the cookie he was eating. "I can do it! You just gotta teach me!"

Another sigh that Danny had stopped counting. "Look, you seem like a good kid, but I'm not gonna teach you magic."

"Why not!"

"However," he continued, ignoring the demand, "I'm not gonna leave ya fully defenselessness."

"What do you mean?" Billy backed away slightly, his eyes narrowing as he moved to be able to run quickly.

Another sip. "Based off of the dirt you're covered in, the grease in your hair, and the overall poor condition of your clothes, I'm gonna bet that you're a street kid. So," he pulled a small card from his pocket, very aware that Billy was watching his hand aptly, "I'm going to leave you with this."

Slowly, the brunet took it and turned it over. "What it is?"

The white card had the initials DP in the middle, circled by an Ouroboros. The initials were completely solid, but the snake of the Ouroboros was made up of tiny runes of protection and health and healing and good fortune.

"My calling card. If you're ever in danger, hold that to your chest and ask for help. I'll be there."

Still obviously suspicious, Billy took a moment to scrutinize the card. It was cute to watch the kid act like he knew what he was looking at or for. When he seemed satisfied, he shoved the card into the inner pocket sewn into his jacket. "Thanks."

"No problem, kid," Pulling out his phone, Danny saw the time and stood, "I've gotta go now. I assume I've sufficiently bought your silence on the whole magic thing?"

Billy grinned, "I guess, but you gotta come visit me, okay?"

He chuckled, "Sure thing. See ya."

Part 2 Part 4

(I don't drink coffee, so Idk how that shit works)

Tag list: @zaiothe4th

[chrisbesitos]

"isn't that 'bunny'?"

matt frowns his eyebrows, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes to see better the picture chris is showing him on his phone. it's impossible, because she told matt earlier she'll spend the whole night studying for a test and plus she'll never go to a party without him — or without telling him —. once he realizes, he widen his eyes. it was her, his bunny.

"she's – are she for real? she said she'll study tonight." matt says, biting his underlip and swiping his fingers on his hair. he scrunches his nose, lifting his body from the couch and looking for car keys at the coffee table. chris frowns his eyebrows, looking at matt walking to the door, he lifts too.

"where are you going?" chris asks.

matt didn't answer, he just slammed the door. he's not exactly mad at you, but he's not okay with the fact you're at a party at the frat house his frat totally hates. so, if you think he's gonna let you stay there after lying to him, you're totally wrong. he drives to the house, climbing out of the car after park in the front of their place. he walks inside, looking for you like a hunter looks for his prey. pushing people from his way, you better not being with one of the frat bros from this house.

he finds you sitting outside in the backyard, your friends with you and he. matt takes a deep breath, scrunching his nose angrily, trying to not make a scene. he walks towards you, he wants to smile at your cute outfit, most of the girls are wearing tiny dresses, but you are sitting there wearing your superheroes shirt and leg warmers, you swipe your glass in your nose. your face drop when you see matt walking in your direction, his jaw clenched, visible angry. you shouldn't have lied to him, but your friend convinced you to do it, knowing matt would never let you go to this party. even though matt doesn't have to allow you go to anywhere.

"what are you doing here?" matt says, you roll your eyes, crossing your arms against your chest. matt is making a scene. your friends stare at you and him, you shrank embarrassed. "you're supposed to be studying in your dorm."

"you're not my babysitter, matt. stop." you say, lifting from the bank and pushing matt by the chest to talk more privately. matt sniffles, smelling you like an animal, feeling the smell of alcohol in your mouth. first you lie, then you drink, all of this without saying anything to him.

"you told me you would be studying, i believed you! you know i don't like these guys." matt groans, grabbing your chin to analyze your face. especially your eyes. at least you're not on drugs, he doesn't trust anyone at this party. "you're drunk, are you serious, huh?"

"i'm not, i just had a couple drinks." you sigh, rubbing your temple. you're not drunk, just a little bit. you don't drink normally, but your friends convince you to drink a bit tonight. "please, go. you're embarrassing me."

"i'm embarrassing you? are you hearing yourself?" matt laughs sarcastically, swiping his fingers along his hair. you sigh again, looking back to stare at your friends, of course they're watching your argument with matt and this is really embarrassing, because they're gonna tell everyone on campus. "let's go, bunny." he says, grabbing your arm.

"i'm not going anywhere, matt. go home." you say, trying to make he let you go. one of the guys behind you both walks towards you, matt frowns his eyebrows looking at him, not letting you go.

"she's not going anywhere with you, asshole." he says, now you're frowning your eyebrows. you stop moving and stare at the guy, because you're mad at matt, but he's still your best friend.

"don't call him an asshole, you back off. this is a private conversation." you push his chest, he stares at you angrily, but before he does anything, matt puts himself in front of you. he pushes the guy.

"stay away from her. all of you." matt says, grabbing your arm again and pulling you out of this party. at least he didn't have to carry you to the car, you walk by his side, even though he protects you and you defend him, he's still mad at you for lying. "i'm gonna drop you at your dorm." he snorts, walking to his car. you stand in front of the car door, matt waits for you get in, staring at you. "get in the car, y/n."

"i'm sorry for lying, ok? i know you wouldn't approve." you sigh, crossing your arms, you sit at the highway. matt sighs too, he walks until you and sits by your side, he embraces your shoulders with his arm. "i just wanted to look nice."

"you can look nice without going to parties like that." he groans, you glance at him and he shakes his head, resting his chin in your head. matt worries about you, sometimes you're too naive for this world, he's scared of anyone hurting you while you away from his eyes. that's why he don't like you at rivals frat parties or drinking without him. "i'm sorry for embarrassing you."

"i know you don't regret it." you say, matt laughs nodding. you raise your head and admire matt's eyes, you rest your hand on his cheek, brushing your thumb there. matt smiles softly, his anger for you disappears. "thank you for caring, baby."

"never do that again, i'm not kidding, bunny." matt says, pointing at you, talking seriously. you smile softly, nodding agreeing with him. you lift your chin to put your lips together.

it's okay to kiss, best friends kiss sometimes.

꩜ chérie's notes: i love love love dealer!matt with nerd!reader <33333

taglist ; @lizzymacdonald06 @lushjunkie @sweetreliever @watercolorskyy @ivysturnss @brianna-grace12 @blahbel668 @gabri3la-sturns @unknvhx @pvssychicken @all4l0vee @i4longhairchris @sluttybitchformattsturniolo @sophand4n4 @sturniololetstrip2 @zayluvss @sturnsmia @sofieeeeex @ifwdominicfike @planettori @jetaimevous @leclecwifey16 @mattswifeyx @joclyn240 @voqueflms @pepsicola-pussy @sturnobsessedwh0re @chrissturnioloswifeee @sturniolossss @imonlyhereformattfluff @sturniolosluttt

[hischiershoe]

𝐀 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐰 | 𝐋𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Everyone on the team seemed to like you, except for one person in particular and you didn’t know why. But by some Christmas miracle, everything finally falls in place.

Warnings: Luke’s a dummy, some misunderstandings, a tiny kiss at the end, Lazar!sister, not edited

Note: This is a part of my Ficmas event!

Soft music filled your small apartment as you pulled the last batch of cookies out of the oven to cool. A brief glance towards the small clock on the stove told you that you had roughly fifteen minutes until your brother would be there to pick you up and drag you to his work Christmas party. Once the cookies were laid out evenly on the drying rack, you hurried back to your bathroom to make some last minute touches to your makeup and to make sure you still liked the way your outfit looked. Just as you were shoveling the last bit of cookies into your Christmas themed container, the sound of someone knocking on your door broke your concentration.

 “You know,” Your brother's voice fills your ears as he pushes through the door, “You really should learn to lock your door.”

“You know,” You mimic him, rolling your eyes as you snap the lid on, “It’s somehow only a problem when you come over.”

“I don’t count,” Curtis waves his hand in the air, “It’s my job to make sure you’re being safe.”

“Well, you suck at your job then,” You snort, pulling the container close to your chest as you turn to face him, “Let’s go. I’m ready to see my nephews.”

The two of you walk down to the parking garage, bickering about something you had said in your family groupchat nearly a week ago and you didn’t stop until you were stuck between two car seats in the back of his SUV. The entire ride to the Haula household, you were being pulled from nephew to nephew as they both prodded for your attention, but you didn’t mind it too much. You soaked up as much family time as you could because you lived so far away from everyone else, and you never knew if Curtis would have to up and move like he’d had to before.

The longer the drive went, the more the feeling of anxiety blossomed in your stomach. No matter how many times Curtis or his teammates told you that you were always welcome in their circle, you still felt like you were overstepping. Realistically, you had no place in their group of hockey players and hockey wives. Their life was luxurious and full of excitement compared to your own that was full of studying for a degree you’re not sure you want anymore and working part-time at a job you didn’t necessarily like. Even then, when Curtis found out he was traded to a team only thirty minutes from his youngest sister, he made it clear you were always included and welcome wherever he went.

“Hey guys,” Haula greets with a smile as he pulls the door open, “Come on in! A few of the others are here already.”

With Owen’s hand tightly grasping your own and your cookies tucked against your side, you follow the others inside with a small smile on your face. Though the second you walk through the door, he runs off to join the other kids without so much as a glance in your direction. Your gaze darts around the house and you pass a smile to anyone you accidentally make eye contact with until your eyes find a familiar mop of messy curls. Of course you knew the likeness of Luke being here was high due to this also being his team event and all, but that never stopped slight annoyance from burning in your chest when you finally saw him.

To put it plainly, Luke pissed you off. He was standoffish, a little arrogant, and insanely annoying. At least to you he was. When you first met him, you did your best to appear friendly and make light hearted conversation with him. You wanted to befriend him given the fact that this was the first teammate Curtis had introduced you to that was the same age as you, but Luke was seemingly having none of it. He hardly made eye contact with you when you greeted him, only ever gave half-assed one word responses when you tried to talk to him, and he never came up to you first. At first, it upset you that he seemingly wanted nothing to do with you, especially because you found him to be quite cute. Now it just irritated you to no end, yet you still found him obnoxiously attractive. 

“Play nice,” Curtis elbows you in the side, “Or you’ll have to go on the naughty list and I’ll send the gifts mom sent for you back home.

A dramatic gasp fell from your lips as you moved your gaze to your brother, eyes wide and heart clutching your chest. “You wouldn’t,” You playfully narrow your eyes at him before you shake your head,  “I don’t plan on talking to him, and that’s as nice as I can get.” 

“Oh, come on,” He tries, “I think you two just got off on the wrong foot. He’s actually a really great kid.”

Your hand quickly flies to his forehead, making a show of feeling the temperature as your eyes are wide and swimming with feign concern, “Are you sick? You’re saying something nice about Luke.”

“Oh my god,” He rolls his eyes, slapping your hand away from his face, “Get outta here. Go play with the kids or something.”

You let a snicker as you walk towards the kitchen, shaking your head to yourself in amusement. A few of the girls were already in there talking amongst themselves, and you tried to keep to yourself in fear of intruding, but they quickly pulled you into their conversation. They made an effort to ask about how your classes were going, and when you told them your doubts, they were all quick to bring encouragement and wise words of advice. It wasn’t long until they brought up the topic they really wanted to. Boys.

As the night went on, you did exactly as you told your brother you would do and didn’t speak to Luke, which wasn’t exactly hard to do. It was almost like he avoided you on purpose, making sure he was never too close to you or ended up being alone in a room with you. You’re not particularly sure why, but tonight, Luke’s indifference toward you was getting to you in ways it hadn’t before. You were taking it to heart more than usual, slowly getting in your own head and wondering exactly what it was about you that he didn’t like.

When the others decided that they wanted to play some sort of group game while the kids all watched a movie in the other room, you decided to take the time to step outside by yourself. A few rounds of ‘are you okay’s went around the room when you stood up, but you brushed them off with your reassurance that you just needed some fresh air. However, as you trudged towards the back door, you missed the way Luke’s worried gaze followed you until you disappeared through the door, but Curtis didn’t.

You severely underestimated how cold it was going to be outside. Of course it was mid-December in North Jersey and you knew it wasn’t exactly going to be warm, but it felt like it had dropped nearly twenty degrees since you had been outside last. The thought of simply going back inside crossed your mind several times, but the idea of getting away from Luke just for a moment triumphed your need for warmth. Who knew silence from a guy you barely knew would have you braving the almost freezing temperatures rather than sitting in a heated house.

You pulled your jacket close to your chest as you sat on the small outdoor couch, tucking your legs underneath you as you let out a shaky breath. You tried to focus on calming your nerves, on taking deep breaths and grounding yourself with the sounds and smells of nature, but Luke still managed to occupy your mind. All you could think about was him. Why didn’t he like you? What you couldn’t done differently? Was it because of something you had said? Was it because the way you looked?

The sound of the backdoor opening tears through the maze of insecurities swirling in your head, forcing your eyes to the last person you expected to see. Luke. He stepped into the frigid air, a blanket neatly folded against his chest as he let the door close behind him. His soft yet anxious gaze found your own, and it felt like all of the air in your lungs had been sucked out of you. The shift of tension was so evident that you’re almost positive even the group inside could feel it, even if their prying eyes weren’t peeking through the window. 

“Uh, hey,” Luke meekly calls out, hovering near the door.

“Hi, Luke,” You flatly greet, untucking your feet from under your thighs as you straighten your back, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” He clears his throat, doing his best to ignore the dullness to your voice before he closes the large gap between you, “You looked cold so I brought this for you.”

He thrusts the blanket in your direction, his eyes bouncing around the backyard to avoid meeting your own as you peer up at him. You hesitantly reach out and take the soft material from his slightly shaky hands, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’ before you cast your eyes down to the concrete under your feet. An uncomfortable and painfully awkward silence falls over the two of you, and you want nothing more than for a hole to open up in the ground so it can swallow you entirely.

“Can I– Uhm, can I sit,” He asks, bringing his hand up to nervously brush across his face. 

Your head snaps towards him, eyes wide and mouth dropped open in surprise as you manage only but a weak nod. Luke carefully takes the spot next to you, attempting to keep as much space between the two of you, but the couch wasn’t exactly large in size so his thighs inevitably brushed against your own. Despite the icy air biting at your skin, the slightest touch from him sent a wave of heat over you like a bucket of warm water. 

“I want to say that I’m sorry,” Luke nervously clears his throat, letting his gaze briefly flit to your face, “For being kind of a dick.”

“Kind of,” You repeated with a teasing chuckle, your brows raising in amusement.

“Okay, yeah,” He breaths out through a shaky laugh, “I’ve been a dick, but I am sorry. It’s just, um, you kind of intimated me.”

You watch as Luke uncomfortably shifts in his seat, his hands shoved in his pockets as his already red cheeks darken in color, and you can’t help but find it cute. His bashfulness was something that you always found endearing when you weren’t busy trying to convince yourself that you didn’t like him.

“I intimidated you,” You incredulously ask, shifting your body so your knee is slightly poking his thigh and you’re facing him, “How?”

“Um, it’s stupid honestly,” He shakes his head, slightly scoffing to himself, “You were just so friendly, and, um, everyone seemed to like you and I was nervous that you wouldn’t like me. You’re also– Um, you’re really pretty, too, and that definitely didn’t help.”

Luke’s words ring in your ears, your body stiffening as you try and convince yourself that you had heard him correctly and it wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you. Your heart was ramming into your ribs, your breathing becoming uneven as all of the words you wanted to say kept getting caught in your throat. However, you could see the panic forming on Luke’s face, and you knew you needed to say something before he freaked out. 

“I’m sorry,” You breathe out, “I just— So all this time, you didn’t talk to me because you thought I wouldn’t like you? Luke, I thought you didn’t like me. I thought you hated me, actually.”

Now, panic was really evident on Luke’s face as he rushes to say, “I don’t! I never hated you. Shit, I’m sorry. I’m not very good at this.”

You watch as he slightly tilts his head back and lets out a sigh of frustration, the hood from his jacket falling off to showcase the mussed up curls on his head. His hair had grown out quite a bit, the strands curling over his ears and brushing against the nape of his neck. You’d always liked his hair the most when it was a little longer, the occasional unholy thought crossing your mind before you brought yourself back to reality with warm cheeks and downcast eyes, but you’d never admit that out loud.

The incessant vibration of Luke’s phone breaks the pause between the two of you, your eyebrow quirking in curiosity as he straightens back up with a sheepish look on his face.

“I’m sorry, I’m just gonna check it real quick,” He mumbles, casting you an apologetic glance.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through what appeared to be dozens of text messages before he quickly glances to the roof of the pergola. You follow his line of sight and you find the neatly wrapped bundle of mistletoe that was hanging from the wooden frame, and the nerves you were feeling before were absolutely nothing compared to now. You were frozen in your spot, your neck craned to stare at the fake plant above you, your stomach twisting itself in knots.

“Is that…,” Luke’s voice trails off, moving his focus back towards you.

“It is,” You swallow before slowly letting your gaze fall on Luke’s face.

When your eyes meet his, your breathing hitches, and it feels like the world around you stops moving. The sounds of nature, of the cars driving by, of the laughter from inside the house– It all disappears until only the sounds of your heart drumming in your ears was all you can hear. All of the colors around Luke blur together, only him staying in focus as you wait for his next move in nauseating anticipation.

“Isn’t it like- a Christmas law or something,” Luke clears his throat, inching closer to you with each passing second.

“Christmas law? Seriously,” You snort, your eyes crinkling as you give him a goofy smile.

“I dunno,” He meekly mumbles, slightly shrugging as his cheeks tinge pink all over again.

“Yeah, Luke,” You quietly agree as the gap between the two of you becomes so minimal that you can feel his warm breath fanning across your face, “It is a Christmas law.”

Your eyes delicately flutter closed, your nose nudging against Luke’s before you press your lips against his own in a small and simple kiss. Your hand was firmly placed on his thigh to keep yourself steady, Luke’s finding purchase on your lower back as he brings you closer to his chest. Truthfully, it wasn’t anything life-changing or extraordinary, but it was still perfect.

“Hey,” Curtis yells out of the back door, forcing the two of you apart so quickly that you nearly topple off the couch, “Quit kissing my sister!”

“You said he was a good kid,” You quickly retort over the sounds of laughter from inside, throwing your brother a look that clearly says ‘GO AWAY’.

“I take it back! He’s the worst!”

You watch as Reanne tries to reel him back with a grin on her face, telling him to leave the two of you be until you were ready to come back inside. When he was successfully wrangled back in, you meet Luke’s stare again and he’s mimicking the same look of embarrassment that you had. You can’t stop yourself from bursting into a fit of awkward giggles, leaning forward so that your forehead is pressed against Luke’s shoulder as his body shakes with laughter of his own.

“I’m never living this down,” Luke quietly groaned, using the leverage he had to subtly shift you under his arm.

“Probably not,” You chuckle, craning your neck to look up at him, “Was it worth it?”

You can see a flicker of something in his gaze. Something unfamiliar. Something intense.

“More than worth it.”

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!yoongi (3) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist

//

it’s been almost three weeks since you last saw him. 

so, when you walk into the clinic, flushed cheeks and tucked-in hair and all—yoongi’s first thought catches him off guard. 

oh, i missed you. 

your absence crept into him slowly over the past few weeks. it filled in all the small gaps of his days with a quiet ache he had never noticed until now. it’s weird to say the least. 

when you spot him, a small and hesitant smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. yoongi smiles back, fuller than you expected. it’s still a casual smile but his eyes tell all. 

"hey," you say, voice soft as you approach him.

your fingers nervously fidgeting with the strap of your bag. he notices and reaches over to take your bag. 

you let him. 

"hey."

he tries to sound professional, though he knows he’s already failing. his voice is laced with excitement and nervousness. "let’s head to an exam room, yeah?"

then, he gestures down the hallway, and you follow.

as you two walk, you clear your throat. 

“where is everyone?”

“nam joon and jin have an online doctor's conference so they’re in jin’s office. hobi has a patient, jimin’s his nurse, and taehyung’s on his lunch break.” yoongi answers you like he reviewed for this. 

“and jungkook?”

yoongi blinks at you before placing his hand on your lower back and guiding you through the 3rd door to the left. 

is it bad he wants to be dismissive? is it bad that he’s a little annoyed you’re asking about jungkook while literally in the midst of finding out if you’re pregnant with his child?

doesn’t matter.

yoongi is mature. he answers you patiently—only really annoying himself.

“he’s my rn. told him my patient requested a private exam so he’s on a break too.” 

the room’s quiet when you two step inside. just the soft hum of the vent and the door shutting fills the silence. yoongi helps you sit on the exam bed. you don’t say anything, letting the crinkling paper under you shift as you settle in. yoongi gathers his supplies, his eyes darting toward you between movements.

“so... how’ve you been?” he asks, rolling up his sleeves. 

it feels like such a weak question. like it’s too small for all the things yoongi actually wants to say (because it is).

“fine. a little... tired, i guess?” you forces a tiny laugh. “and you? how’s work been? the space is really well done. i think the last time i saw it was during the final renovation process.”

“it’s nice, isn’t it?” yoongi states pridefully. 

“aren’t you into interior design? i’m gonna guess you controlled the overall aesthetic.” 

yoongi chuckles at you lightly. “we decorated a gingerbread house together once 2 years ago and you can never let that little discovery go, huh?” 

you stick your tongue out at him and swing your feet. “you’re pretty obvious with things you like.”

yoongi stares at you, eyebrows lifting in quiet surprise. 

you’re pretty obvious with things you like. 

your words hang in the air, sinking into him with a weight he hadn’t expected—he hadn’t prepared for.  he tries to play it off, mouth twitching into a half-smile, but he can feel his face warming.

there’s a small silence, and he can feel his heart picking up speed. his brain racing through all the ways he’s been maybe—not-so-subtle.

the way he leans a little closer when you talk.

how he remembers every little thing you mention— stupid things like how you prefer your coffee bitter. 

it hits him all at once.

he’s not fooling anyone. 

but for some reason; he hopes to fool you. even if it’s just a little while longer. as complicated as it sounds, he isn’t sure how much more risk he can put your friendship at. 

his throat tightens, and he clears it.

“...guess i am,” he murmurs, unable to hide the quiet honesty in his voice.

you stay quiet.

a little unsure if your friendship always had these silent gaps in between or if it’s because of the tension between you two right now. you attempt once more. 

“so… work?”

“work? oh… it’s the same, mostly.” he shrugs, tying a tourniquet around your arm. his fingers brush your skin for just a second longer than necessary. “though it’s nice to have an interesting case now and then,” he teases, his lips quirking up just slightly. 

“oh, so i’m interesting now?” you tease, trying for lightness. although, your voice shakes a little.

you hope he doesn’t notice. 

he does. 

“well... always have been, if i’m honest,” yoongi snickers. “blood test first and then we’ll do a urine sample. i can have the blood test result by tomorrow.”

“okay,” you say as you shut your eyes.

yoongi then slips a needle into your vein with practiced ease. once you feel the pinch, you flutter your eyes open. 

they meet yoongi’s and for a fleeting moment—he feels his chest tighten. 

as the vial fills with blood, yoongi realizes this is the closest you two have been in weeks. 

there’s something unspoken about it but very understood when he reaches for your free hand and squeezes it. you gulp and offer him a small smile. 

when it’s over, yoongi gently places a bandage on your arm. his fingers brush your skin again, lingering just a (another) second too long before he steps back.

"all done," he says softly, but he knows they’re only just beginning. “ready to pee in a cup?”

“more than ever.” 

with that, he laughs and takes your hand. yoongi helps you down and reaches for the sample cup. his arms wrap around your waist ever so gently as he guides you out of the exam room and into the washroom. 

yoongi waits for you outside the washroom door.

yoongi watches you pace, the linoleum tiles squeaking under your sneakers. 

"it only takes a few minutes," he says, tapping the test strip on the countertop, trying to sound as calm as he can. you’re nodding, but your hands are twisting the hem of your shirt. 

the clock ticks away the longest three minutes of your lives.

yoongi's eyes dart between the test and the silent tension builds up between you and him. when he glances at you, you’re staring at the counter. 

like you’re bracing yourself. 

like you already know. 

then, the lines appear. 

yoongi’s throat tightens, fingers hovering over the little strip with too much gravity for its size. his throat feels dry and suddenly he’s all out of words. he’s speechless as the results speak for themselves. 

but then, he can feel your eyes on him—waiting, hopeful, and terrified all at once.

“___,” yoongi breathes. “it’s positive.”

a moment passes.

"oh my god,” you choke. “hyemi is gonna lose her shit."

yoongi drives you home. 

he takes the rest of the day off actually. he excuses himself and lets jungkook know something came up. no one catches you two leaving the clinic together. 

now, here you two are. 

sitting in his car, parked outside your family home. the weight of the news hangs in the air. it’s not heavy—but it’s not exactly light. it’s… different. it’s more good than bad—actually, it’s not bad at all.

both of you sit there, still processing the reality of it all. 

“i want whatever you want,” yoongi finally says, breaking the stillness. his gaze is focused on you, sincere and adoring. 

you nod, accepting his words. 

“this is what i want,” you say simply. though your voice trembles with a mix of excitement and disbelief—you mean it. “look, i know my baby fever is batshit crazy and the whole time we fucked i was literally such a freak, but this—this is so precious, you know? new life. are you fucking—oops, sorry baby—” you pat your stomach.

“yoongi, this is ours.”

you shift something in yoongi. 

his heart flutters at the word. 

ours. 

it plunges his heart and engraves itself; ours. 

there is no other way to act or feel. 

the thought of being a dad feels surreal. it’s like something out of a dream. he’s always wanted to have a family.

okay, fine.

is the status of their relationship ideal? no. but the reality of a baby, their baby, makes his heart race.

and so what if he isn’t prepared? so what if this wasn’t what he expected? so what if a first date would’ve been a better idea? the questions flood his mind, but they quickly fade as he looks at the way you look at him. 

hopeful. 

excited. 

scared shitless. 

joyous. 

the joy on your face igniting something deep within him. 

he wants this too. 

even if it feels overwhelming. even if it isn’t ideal. even if it means navigating through a literal lifetime with you from here on out.

yoongi’s gaze softens.

“we’re doing this... together. this is ours.”

“together,” you echo, a wide grin spreading across your face. your eyes tear up from all the emotions and the rushing feeling of relief. with soft tone, you murmur; “ours.”

you two look at each other, unable to read one another. all you know is that this isn’t as scary as you thought it’d be. yoongi’s eyes are kind and the way he reaches to squeeze your upper thigh makes you feel safe.

“you know what? i’ll be the first to say it,” yoongi laughs. “congratulations, mama.” 

your eyes widen and you burst into laughter. 

your laugh fills his car, bright and full of life. you can’t help but to lean in and wrap your arms around him. you hold him tight. he holds you tighter. 

when you pull away, you two lock eyes. 

the air feels thick with anticipation. yoongi’s heart races as his eyes shift from yours to your lips then back to you. you’re looking at him with an expression mixed of excitement and vulnerability. he can’t help but admire the way the light catches in your gaze.

time seems to slow as you two hold each other’s stare. both of you are caught in the moment.

for a heartbeat, it’s just you and yoongi.

two people on the brink of something new and beautiful. yoongi leans in a fraction, drawn by an invisible thread, while you tilts your head slightly. your lips part and the urge to close the distance grows stronger. 

but you blink. 

and yoongi hesitates. 

the tension cuts. 

you pull away first and sit back. yoongi clears his throat and does a double take. then, he thinks; fuck it. 

he leans over and unbuckles your seatbelt. 

“should i walk you to your door—”

“no, no,” you insist. “yes, i’m pregnant with your child… but we don’t have to act like—”

“act like what?” yoongi huffs. “am i not allowed to care for you?”

you shrug. 

"___, you're literally carrying my child—"

“you know what? i’ll be in touch regarding child support,” you tease, a mischievous glint in her eyes. with that, you open the car door and step out. 

yoongi rolls his eyes. 

“you’re ridiculous,” he replies, shaking his head but unable to suppress the smile spreading across his face. then, he unbuckles his seatbelt and jogs around the car. he shuts the car door for you. 

you give him a look. 

he mimics it. 

then, you scrunch your nose and accept what’s happening.

yoongi walks beside you, fingertips lingering and all. he tells you that he’ll let you know what the blood work says tomorrow. he tells you to let him know if you need anything and not to worry about anything health related as, in his words; “no discussion needed. i got it.”

all you do is nod and try your best to stop your heart from fluttering so much.

[zorostitties]

Aurora; 8 (m)

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 9k

A/N: HAPPY ONE MONTH ANNIVERSARY TO AURORA!!! I can't even believe I got this far with this fic. Fucking 50k+ words in a month??? Hyperfixation REALLY go boom! It also happens to be my birthday today 🫠 my age is definitely starting to sound WAY TOO SERIOUS now. welp. ANYWAYS - an anon motivated me to create a playlist for aurora, so here it is!!! These are some of the songs that I listen on repeat when I'm writing. Not all of the lyrics have anything to do with the story tho, some just match the vibe of the fic. Though, if I had to choose a "theme song" for Aurora, it'd definitely be Darkness At The Heart of My Love - Ghost. I know metal isn't everybody's cup of tea but in my brain, vampires = metal. And specifically Castlevania = Rammstein for some reason lmao. Anyway!! I hope you guys give it at least (1) listen, as I really think the playlist encapsules the vibes I'm trying to portray in my writing very well. ANYWAYS!!! LET ME SHUT UP!! ENJOY THIS BEAST OF A CHAPTER <3

⤕  Masterlist  ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

? Years Ago

Jerash, Ottoman Empire

The moon was hidden behind heavy storm clouds that night.

The rain whipped against the walls and ceiling of the humble house. It consisted of only two rooms – the kitchen and a tiny bedroom with simple wooden furniture. One would consider it the house of a common peasant, but the hundreds of books piled over one another indicated otherwise. They were everywhere: over the table, stored on shelves, precarious bookcases and boxes… some looked ancient, some looked new. Some had intricate leather covers, beautiful handwriting and illustrations, while others were nothing but a bunch of pages with incomprehensible scribbles. It was even difficult to walk into the house without stepping over one.

The place smelled of spices. Many types of dried herbs were hanging around the kitchen. Different types of stones of all colors and sizes rested over the closed windowsill: quartz, crystals, amethysts, obsidian, malachites… colorful bird feathers were tied by threads in intricate designs, also hanging from the ceiling. All of that was supposed to provide “protection” against the “evil”, apparently.

Drolta hated that place.

No… hate was too strong of a word. To hate someone or something, you must care about it enough, and Drolta didn’t. She was… disgusted. All the dirt, the simplicity, the cheap magic that wouldn’t even hurt a fly… it was boring.

And the owner of that house was especially disgusting.

That short, bald creature finally appeared from inside the bedroom, carrying a heavy book in hands and an annoying large smile. When all this ended – and hopefully it would end very soon –, Drolta would make sure to kill this little man and take a long, really long bath to take his smell off her skin. She didn’t even plan on feeding off him. He didn’t deserve it. Drolta refused to drink from a neck that wasn’t soft, young and feminine.

“Here it is. The product of all of my researches over the years,” he claimed proudly. What was even his name? Was it Khalil? She didn’t remember. Before looking at her face, his eyes stopped for two seconds on her cleavage. He did it every time and hadn’t been trying to hide it ever since Drolta stepped foot into this thing he called home.

Men… oh, how easy men are. Drolta witnessed multiple changes in the world during her long lifetime. She saw empires rise and fall, cultures cease to exist, philosophies and religions sweep the Earth. But one thing that had never changed over all this time was the simplicity of men. All she needed to do was put on a tighter corset, a deeper cleavage… and she had him on the palm of her hand. Drolta didn’t even need to try much much harder. This little Khalil man was the type she despised the most: the needy type. Never got married. Judged too strange by his fellow villagers. Probably never felt the touch of a woman. He was desperate.

But he had something that Drolta valued after all: knowledge. There was a time when the world was full of magicians. Speakers, priestesses, witches, oracles, shamans, alchemists… actual scholars of the ways of magic. But that was before the fucking Church. Now, apparently, all humans knew how to do was kneel and pray for a God that could not grant them any power.

Drolta was aware that she was partially at fault in all this. However, she would redeem herself soon.

When she finally succeeded in bringing Sekhmet back to life, this Earth would know what a real Goddess is. A Goddess with real power, real impact, who could bring real fear and obedience and adoration.

Soon, she thought to herself. I can feel it. She will come back soon. I will bring her back soon.

So many centuries of preparation. So many sun cycles searching for the right candidate. She had finally, finally encountered someone whose body managed to withstand Sekhmet’s power. Erszebet Bathory grew more powerful every day; the holy blood she drank was slowly but surely changing her body, her soul, empowering her. Drolta could feel Sekhmet’s presence in this world getting stronger. She could feel her goddess through Erszebet, talking through her, striving to resurface through that vessel. Everything was going so well.

And yet – all of her effort was still not enough, because half of Sekhmet’s soul was still missing.

Aside from taking care of the vessel, Drolta and her sisters roamed Earth after the Ba – Sekhmet’s mummy. For some reason, it was always out of reach: stolen from someone, bought by someone, then stolen again, then auctioned… Drolta was always too late. She prayed, prayed, prayed ardently that her beloved Goddess would help her from the other side, give her a sign, maybe twist things a bit so she could have a chance… but oh, she knew her Goddess was too weak to help. Drolta knew she would have to find a way.

And although all odds seemed to be working against her, Drolta found another way. Drolta thought of another chance.

As far as her associates scattered around the world knew, the mummy was lost forever. She completely lost track of it somewhere in the Horn of Africa; the last news she heard about it was years ago. As much as Drolta despised the idea – as much as she’d like to personally torture whoever committed such blasphemy towards the body of Sekhmet –, she had to be realistic and assume that the mummy was, perhaps, definitely gone.

But Drolta wouldn’t let herself be drowned by despair. No. Despair was the enemy of reason. She had to be strong – for Sekhmet, for her sisters, for her goal.

So another idea grew into her mind.

Drolta was under possession of Sekhmet’s blood, the Ka; the Goddess’ Ba, the mummy, was out of reach.

And then there was the third piece of her soul which was also out of reach.

Except… maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe there was a way to reach into it.

Yes, she knew no one had ever managed to do it. Yes, she knew the possibility of failure was high. Yes, she knew that, perhaps, it was all but a delusion. However, Drolta couldn’t be sure without trying first. If there was even the smallest possibility of it working, she would go on with it.

She had to do it – and do it fast. Drolta had never met anyone that could take so much of Sekhmet’s blood, but even her couldn’t take much more; the Goddess needed her other half.She could not lose Erszebet; she would do anything in her power to keep that woman safe.

Which led Drolta to this annoying mortal man.

He was disgusting. He smelled bad. He had the audacity of assuming he was going to fuck her. And still, he was an alchemist – and there weren’t many alchemists in the world anymore. Not good ones, at least. Drolta wasted her time going after a famous alchemist in China months ago, but she turned out to be a charlatan. As far as Drolta knew, this one was real. Maybe not powerful like mortal alchemists used to be, but he could do the job.

“From the information I have gathered, it hasn’t been tried in centuries,” Khalil spoke with amazement and reverence. It truly was the work of his life, apparently. “Not many scholars even believe it happened, in fact… it is under deep discussion. However, the ones that believe it, report that the occurrence happened in Wallachia, when a certain alchemist tried to… well…”

Khalil averted his eyes, seeming embarrassed and hesitant. Oh, the traits of a man that has been laughed at and ridiculed his entire life. Drolta felt grateful that he was this way. Much easier to deal with.

She rested her hand on his forearm and looked at him with round, curious eyes – even though she already knew what he was trying to say.

“Tried to what? Please, tell me,” she asked in a honeyed voice.

Khalil probably had an erection at that moment. His face flushed and he smiled.

“Tried to bring D-Dracula back to life,” he finally let out. “Yeah, I know it sounds absurd. I-I mean, Dracula? The folk tale to scare kids? How is that even possible?”

“I don’t find it absurd at all,” Drolta said, shaking her head softly. “Please, continue.”

The man averted his gaze from hers sheepishly, holding the book just a tiny bit stronger.

“Y-You are the first person to ever take me seriously, Miss Danubia,” Danubia? Oh… it’s the name she made up for herself. She had almost forgotten. “I… I really appreciate it.”

What, are you going to cry? Spare me.

Drolta caressed his arm softly.

“I admire your intelligence. I’d sit with you and talk for hours about all of your discoveries,” the idea sickened her, in fact. But Drolta couldn’t just force him to do anything. As far as she knew, the entire process had to be done willingly, otherwise it wouldn’t work.

For fuck’s sake, it really looked like he wanted to cry. Khalil blinked rapidly and looked down at the book again.

“Apparently, the portal was opened directly into Hell in order to retrieve Dracula’s soul. But it’s entirely possible that, through this same ritual, I could try to reach into other realms, too…” For the first time, Khalil looked hesitant. He gulped. “Though, if I’m to be completely honest, Miss Danubia, I do not believe I have the expertise needed to lead such a powerful ritual.”

Drolta stepped back, letting go of his forearm.

Khalil looked up at her, slightly startled at her sudden lack of touch.

But then, Drolta looked down, putting her hands over her chest and…

Tears welled up her eyes.

“I-I wish you could understand my pain and my despair, Khalil,” she started, voice trembling. “My mother… my dear mother. I could never tell her goodbye before her death. She had such a painful, slow death…” Drolta looked at him again, a single tear streaming down her cheek. “I do not wish to retrieve her soul, Khalil; I understand this goes against the laws of nature. I just want to… talk to her. In my culture, we believe that the souls of our deceased goes to the duat. If I can just get a peek of it… just look at her face once more… you will have my eternal gratitude. I-I can’t let this chance go by…”

Drolta covered her mouth and sobbed. With the corner of her eyes, she saw Khalil rush to put the heavy book over the table and bring her a handkerchief. She didn’t want to put that stinky thing near her face, but took it anyway and wiped her tears delicately.

Khalil pressed his lips together. All the hesitance was gone, being replaced by determination.

“I believe I can do it, Miss Danubia.” He inhaled before speaking. “The g-good feelings I have for you will be my guide and shield.”

Drolta offered him a sweet smile and a fragile thank you.

Khalil took off his coat and pushed the small table to the farthest corner of the room. He then took a piece of white chalk and started to draw something on the floor.

“This is the symbol of Osiris, Egyptian god of the Underworld… or the duat,” he explained while he drew. As if Drolta didn’t already know it. Yet, she acted shocked, trying to engage him in conversation as he lit a circle of candles around the hieroglyph. She needed him content and willing. Mortals work better when they are in their best feelings; they tend to put much more of their force into what they are doing, and this, in magic terms, was extremely meaningful.

Drolta loathed the fact that she needed this man happy to achieve her goal, but it was necessary. Well, if not happy, then hard. Sexual energy can also be extremely powerful.

After Khalil finished his preparations for the ritual, Drolta approached him and held his hand.

The man visibly held his breath.

It was so easy for her to send him that sweet gaze. So easy to trap his entire attention on her, as if Drolta became the very air in his lungs. She leaned down slightly and pressed her soft lips on his cheek, making sure to stay there a second longer than necessary, before leaning away a delivering a smile that showed quiet sadness and care.

“If you succeed, Khalil, you will have my heart eternally,” she purred in an almost whisper.

He was shocked.

It really looked like he couldn’t breathe.

Finally, he managed to crack a smile. He puffed his chest like a pathetic male bird and nodded as Drolta stepped away.

“I will, my lady. For you.”

She held back laughter.

Finally, Khalil took his heavy book again and stood near the candle ring. The flames projected eerie shadows around the walls; the outside storm was everything they could hear. He placed the book in front of his feet and took a small knife from his pocket.

“Blood is required to initiate the ritual,” he explained. “You can look away if it makes you uncomfortable, my lady.”

Khalil didn’t see when she rolled her eyes this time.

He swiped the knife on his palm, wincing in pain as he did. Weak little human, can’t even stand a cut without crying. He let blood drip over the symbol on the floor before walking back to the candle ring and taking the book in his hands once more.

He took a deep breath before finally initiating the spell.

His pronunciation of Akkadian was bad. Laughable, even. Drolta could barely understand half of the words. And yet, it was enough.

The candles trembled. The air within the house got colder. Drolta felt the floor beneath her feet shake slightly, the air vibrate in a high frequency – the frequency of high magic.

It was working.

A grin slowly grew on her lips. She… underestimated this little man after all. He was an actual alchemist – but the ritual was only working because of her efforts, she realized. Khalil was putting all of his love into the spell. Yes, actual love. How such a naive creature fell in love with her so quickly after a few days of knowing each other was beyond her.

Love is also extremely powerful in magical terms.

The storm grew angrier out there. A thunder so loud and so close shook the entire house, made Khalil lost his focus for a second before continuing to read the spell.

Followed by another thunder – even closer this time.

And another thunder.

The ground shook. Some books fell from the shelves. Khalil lifted his head and looked towards the window.

There was another sound mixed within the cacophony of the heavy storm.

Screams.

What was that out there? Was the house of his neighbor burning?

“W-What is–?” Khalil stuttered.

He hadn’t noticed that Drolta was towering right behind him. How did she get so close so fast?

She held his head with both hands from behind, guiding it down towards the book again.

“Keep reading,” she instructed in a quiet whisper, her mouth close to his ear.

A violent shiver ran down Khalil’s spine.

For the first time, Drolta’s presence made him feel uneasy. Her voice changed drastically; it wasn’t welcoming anymore, or warm, or caring. It was just freezing cold. It… it didn’t even sound much human.

All these talismans he hung around his house for protection – and yet the worst evil he could possibly imagine was standing right behind him, welcomed by him with open arms.

Another thunder. Another fire. Another house burning down. A few more souls to fuel the spell.

Khalil could be a real alchemist, but he was far from being a good one, Drolta remarked to herself. All of those books taught him nothing – again, she had to do most of the job. In the few days she worked on gaining his trust, she also made sure to mark every house in the village of Jerash with the symbol or Osiris. Marked it with virgin blood to make it even more effective.

Every respectable alchemist knew that in order to open a door into the Infinite Corridor, multiple mortal lives were required. That is why most alchemists weren’t brave enough to do it.

Khalil wouldn’t be brave enough to do it too if he knew what it’d cost. That is why Drolta lured him into it and made the preparations behind his back.

Drolta chuckled. How he must had been feeling at that moment, knowing he sacrificed hundreds of lives of his fellow villagers in the hopes of sticking his tiny penis inside of her?

“I told you to keep reading,” she repeated, and this time her voice sounded like a dangerous hiss.

Khalil’s hands trembled. He gulped. His voice wasn’t as confident anymore, but he had already initiated the ritual; there was no coming back from there.

The floor shook as more souls were reaped into the spell. Suddenly, the windows opened all at once; the ceiling cracked and was swiped away by a violent gush of wind. Drolta looked up in time to see a funnel of souls converging into a single streak of red light, being attracted by the symbol of Osiris on the floor; they made a twister within the circle of candles that were somehow still lit despite everything.

Wind and rain whipped Drolta and Khalil, made his books fly in all directions. None of that bothered Drolta. She had a maniacal grin on her lips, eyes locked in the chaos unveiling in front of her eyes.

Finally, finally, finally, a white crack slashed the air inside the candle ring. A crack in reality itself.

Freezing cold wind came out of it. The crack was slowly but surely getting wider. It made Drolta’s eyes widen, shivers run her body; few times in her life did she witness magic so powerful, so strong, so chilling.

It was working. It was finally working.

She stepped aside from a shell-shocked Khalil and extended her arms in a wide movement, the smile never vanishing from her lips.

A door to the Infinite Corridor, opened right in front of her eyes.

And yet – her work wasn’t done. This door needed to be redirected; it needed to be aimed at the right place.

“Oh Sekhmet, Eye or Ra, Lady of Terror, Mistress of Dread, She Who Mauls; hear mine calling, let thou be guided by the voice of thy loyal servant!” Drolta chanted with all her might, raising her voice as to be heard beyond the storm and the magic and the weeping souls.

The crack got a bit wider. Insurmountable amount of energy escaped from inside. Drolta didn’t even know if Khalil could stand in front of it much longer, given how weak he was, so she needed to rush.

“Hear mine call, Your Magnificence!” Drolta continued, gesticulating in wide movements. “Let mine voice guide thee through the waters of the primordial abyss; let thy Akh resurface in the land of the living. Oh Sekhmet, Lady of Slaughter, She of Ten Thousand Names; walk back into thy rightful realm, retake the throne unfairly taken from thee, wear thy rightful crown once more!”

The crack got wider, wider, wider. It was difficult to understand what could be seen inside of it; it looked like a confusing kaleidoscope. Different images jumped in the blink of an eye, landscapes not even Drolta could understand. And yet, she kept chanting, hoping her energy would be the necessary guide. The mark of Osiris burned in bright red.

Finally – the image within the crack seemed to stabilize itself.

Drolta’s eyes widened.

She saw a… calm river. A temple made of gold in the distance, sitting atop of an island. A pyramid. Purple trees adorned it; the tip of the pyramid shone with a blinding light. The most beautiful sky she had ever seen.

That was it. It was the duat.

Drolta got even more passionate in her speech; her throat ached from screaming.

“Hear mine voice, Lady Sekhmet! Hear mine voice! Come to me!” She begged. Finally, finally, finally, her goddess was right there; after years and years of searching and fighting for her and protecting her legacy and trying to find ways to revive her, after so many frustrated attempts of retrieving her mummy... Finally, Sekhmet’s Akh was right there in front of her eyes.

Finally, Drolta had succeeded.

All she needed to do was cross the door. Drolta couldn’t enter the duat, but Sekhmet could cross it towards the land of the living. Drolta held a small shabti made of pure gold in her hand, the holy object in which she could safely store the third part of Sekhmet’s soul. From there, Erzsebet would only need to incorporate it.

Come to me, Sekhmet; come to me, come to me, come to me, come to me, come to me, come to me–

Something happened.

The image twisted.

“What?” Drolta gasped.

The sight of the duat blurred.

Suddenly, the winds that whipped the house got stronger, more violent. The soul twister got more chaotic. Now, everything that could be seen within the door was the kaleidoscope of colors again, passing rapidly.

It… started to get black.

“No! No! What are you doing?!” Drolta turned to Khalil, her wrath so big that made him tremble. But the man was frozen in place, tears falling down his cheeks mixed with the rain.

“I-I-I’m not doing anything!” He stuttered. “It wasn’t me!”

Drolta turned to the door again.

The air was getting even colder. Colder, colder, colder… freezing. The Osiris symbol suddenly started to burn in black – and then everything else was black. The souls, the flames of the candles, the energy rays that poured from the door.

The air smelled of coal and sulfur.

“No! Stop! Stop!” Drolta yelled at whatever was interfering with the ritual. “I don’t want you here. I didn’t call you!”

But it was too late.

A second before the explosion, Drolta saw a dark figure walk out of the door.

She had time to protect her face with her arms. She did not care about Khalil.

Boom.

The shockwave destroyed what remained of Khalil’s house; he was sent back flying meters away. The reaped souls let their final, painful yell before dissipating in the air. The candles were extinguished in a gush of wind.

Drolta was the only thing to remain standing in place.

She lowered her arms slowly. It seemed that even the heavy storm got timid after such an unnatural occurrence. The neighbor houses still burned; the fires spread down the hill. As it wasn’t magical fire anymore, the rain started to quiet them down. No voices were heard. No more screams. No live witnesses anymore. The village of Jerash became nothing but a burning cemetery.

Drolta fell to her knees.

A shrilling scream of pure anger crossed the air.

She had failed. She got so fucking close and failed yet again. The duat was right there in front of her and she failed.

She turned around to see Khalil’s body on the floor.

Drolta got up, red anger clouding her gaze. He was still alive – hurt, bleeding and crying, but still alive.

“You stupid piece of shit!” She kicked his stomach so hard that the men rolled a few more meters away. “Useless little man. I submitted myself to your disgusting presence for days and you still didn’t serve me anything!”

Khalil coughed blood. He refused to look at her, shrinking into his own body, crying like a child.

She should skin him alive. This, at least, would serve as a way to calm down.

And yet – she stopped in her tracks.

Rain still fell over her head. She was entirely drenched. Drolta stopped and inhaled, letting her anger quiet down.

There was someone talking to her.

Something.

The air still smelled of coal and sulfur. It had nothing to do with the burning houses.

Slowly, she turned back to the circle of candles.

Her eyes widened.

There was someone laying on the floor inside the circle. She rushed towards it.

It was… it was a woman.

For a moment, overwhelming joy and excitement rushed through her veins. Could it be who she thought it was? What if she had actually succeeded, but in a different way than she first expected?

What if that was Sekhmet incarnate?!

Drolta knelt down beside the woman. She was unconscious, laid on her side, completely naked. With care – even hesitancy – Drolta turned her body around, making the woman lay on her back. She took some strands of drenched hair away from her face.

It was a young woman. Her chest moved slowly, as if she was simply asleep.

Drolta frowned.

She pressed two fingers over her neck. A regular pulse. The scent of… regular mortal blood.

Her frown deepened.

“This is no Sekhmet,” Drolta said through gritted teeth. “This is just human woman.”

Then, she lifted her gaze – and finally noticed what was talking to her.

It was nothing but a strange, tall shadow; Drolta could barely make sense of what she was looking at. But yet, that grin was very much recognizable. The entity seemed weak, vibrating in a low frequency, making the entire area around it even colder.

“Did you bring her with you?” She asked. The entity answered. It didn’t use… words. It spoke into her mind with intentions instead. Perhaps, it was way too weak to vocalize.

Drolta huffed with disdain. “And what use would this mortal have?”

The entity moved slowly, circling around them.

Drolta froze in place.

“How do you know this?” She asked in a cautious hiss.

The entity’s grin seemed to get even wider, now knowing that it had Drolta’s full attention.

It continued sliding around Drolta. The vampire lowered her head, looking at the human woman once again.

She looked and looked and looked and looked and…

She remembered.

Slowly, Drolta’s eyes widened as realization hit her.

This… wouldn’t solve all of her problems. She still needed to find the other half of Sekhmet’s soul. And yet… it could also serve her plans, in a way.

Drolta once again lifted her gaze towards the grinning shadow.

“I know you wouldn’t be offering me this out of the goodness of your heart,” she started with suspicion. “What do you want of me in return?”

The entity trembled. Drolta leaned her head slightly.

“An easy task. And if I fail?”

The entity grinned at her quietly. Drolta chuckled.

“You won’t have it, for I won’t fail.” She got up to her feet again. “But this sounds like a fair deal.”

A fair pact, in fact.

Drolta extended her arm towards the entity. It approached her; the shadow extended too in what resembled an arm. It revolved around her hand with a chilling touch.

When the shadow retreated, there was an icy object over Drolta’s palm.

A ruby necklace.

Drolta nodded at the entity; it sent her a last eerie grin before disappearing into the shadows of the night.

It was done.

Drolta looked down.

She took the cloak off her shoulders and covered the woman’s naked body with it. She leaned down, taking her into her arms, before straightening her posture again.

It… wasn’t a complete failure, after all.

Her Goddess never left her without a way out. She was always kind to send Drolta another option, another strategy, and that’s why Drolta managed to survive and move on after every problem.

“For every suffering, a wisdom is gained,” she said quietly. The mantra that had been keeping her sane for centuries.

Khalil was still weeping some meters away from her. Drolta paid him no mind. He wasn’t totally useless in the end, which meant he gained the right to keep living.

Drolta walked away from the burning cemetery of Jerash with the unconscious woman in her arms, the ruby necklace safely tangled around her palm.

The heavy storm clouds opened a small breach for the first time; the moon peeked through, being the only witness of the horrors that had unveiled that night.

Present time

Paris, France

The sun had hidden behind the horizon at least three hours ago.

You looked out the window at the full moon reigning sovereign in the sky from the tiny inn bedroom. There were barely any clouds to hinder its view. Stars adorned the space around her, creating a breathtaking view.

And yet, the air was… eerie.

Maybe because you knew what was about to come, and the fact that the rest of the city didn’t know yet made the situation horrifying. So many people were probably having dinner with their families, resting their heads over their pillows, having no idea of the hell that was about to burst upon them.

What made the situation even more difficult was that you were, well, useless in the middle of it all.

Richter and Annette were hunting nests of vampires. Alucard was about to leave to talk to the leaderships of Paris in order to organize the defensive lines. The three of them, much obviously, were ready to fight.

And you? All you had was a useless golden scepter.

Maybe you had your hopes way too high after what happened at the Louvre. You remembered what Annette told you when you first met – you might be a witch, Ruby; you just don’t remember it. You thought that, the moment you put your hands over the artifact again, you’d have some sort of epiphany. Your past would unveil itself in your head, you’d finally understand Erzsebet and Drolta’s interest in you, you’d know why you were needed to summon eclipses…

But nothing happened.

The scepter was just heavy and very impractical to carry around.

Alucard had no idea what language the inscriptions were. He advised you to not read them out loud, as it wasn’t clear the effect it could cause. You also didn’t magically understand what these words meant. So… just another frustration to add onto the pile.

“Ruby, I’m talking to you.”

You jumped and turned your head around. Alucard was standing in front of the door, searching for something in the inside pocket of his coat and eyeing you with curiosity. You adjusted your posture where you were sitting on the bed.

“I’m sorry. I… wasn’t paying attention.” You said sheepishly.

The white-haired vampire paused for a moment.

“Are you scared of being on your own?” He asked quietly.

You shook your head. “No! Not at all. I’ll be fine.” You reassured.

To be honest, being alone wasn’t exactly an idea you liked. The last three days were the safest you’d ever felt in your life, and that was because you were around them. You tried to avoid picturing the horrifying image of Drolta in her new night creature form breaking through that window and dragging you back to the chateau. There’s no way this is going to happen, not now that she retrieved Sekhmet’s mummy… I’m not needed anymore.

But the idea you liked even less was of being a burden, and you knew you’d be a burden if you kept hanging around uselessly while they fought. Annette almost died due to your mere presence. You were sure everyone would’ve handled the fight much better if you simply weren’t there. So… it’d be better if you just stayed hidden at the inn for the time being.

Alucard shrugged slightly and approached, finally revealing what he was searching for in his coat: a… red string?

He sat by your side on the bed, eyes glued on it. The only source of light came from the moon outside and a single candle holder over the desk. The light of the timid flame created a golden silhouette on his delicate features.

“The Revolutionary Commune is reunited some blocks away from here at this moment,” Alucard explained while his fingers worked on measuring the string. You watched him in silent confusion. His voice always dropped even quieter when he was close to you like that. It was… comforting. He was so close that his arm brushed on yours. “I must go warn them about the incoming fight. There will most definitely be vampires roaming the streets right now, hence why you must stay hidden for the time being.”

You nodded. “I understand.”

You watched as Alucard tied the red string around his own left wrist skillfully. How did he even manage to tie something with a single hand? That was quite impressive. “I won’t take more than two hours, however. After I assure your safety within the Revolutionary Commune, I will come to pick you up.”

Then, he brought his wrist close to his mouth; he put the remaining length of the string between his teeth and cut it using his sharp fangs.

Oh.

You couldn’t help but feel shivers run your spine whenever you remembered that Alucard had vampire fangs. He was half vampire, in fact. It was a bit strange how, as you grew comfortable around him, this “detail” became less and less relevant; you always associated vampires with the worst things possible, while Alucard was much the opposite. Perhaps that’s why it was a bit surprising to remember part of him was one.

You also had noticed that Alucard didn’t open much of his mouth when he talked… and it seemed to be a very conscious act when he was in public. You payed attention to how he talked to those boys earlier. Was it an attempt to make his fangs less obvious?

“Give me your left wrist.” He asked. You promptly obeyed. Alucard tied the remaining string around yours this time. “If anything happens, anything at all, untie this string. Mine will untie, too, and I will rush to you.”

You nodded, a bit surprised. “This is impressive.”

Alucard chuckled and tilted his head slightly. “You were effortlessly summoning eclipses and this is what surprises you about magic?”

The words got caught in your throat.

“Well– it is impressive.” He looked at you with a quirked eyebrow, which did not help you organize your thoughts better. “A-And I wasn’t summoning them, not exactly.”

“You’re not sure about that, are you?”

No, you weren’t.

Your shoulders dropped. Alucard chuckled again.

He finally let go of your wrist and a tiny part of you immediately missed his touch.

“Remember. Two hours. No more, no less.” He got up from the bed again and walked towards the door. “I might be asking too much from you, but I’d advise you against sleeping, too.”

“As if I’d be able to close my eyes at all,” you whined quietly to yourself.

Alucard opened the door and looked at you.

Once again, it seemed that he was about to say something. He looked… hesitant. His expression wasn’t as nonchalant as usual, but you couldn’t tell exactly why. You looked at him expectantly.

Then – this small glimpse dissolved in seconds.

“Lock the door,” he said, pointing at it with his head.

Oh.

You got up in a jump. At last, he left. You safely locked it and kept the key in the pocket of your vest.

Then, you were alone.

For the first time in your life, being alone didn’t bring you relief. You’d usually look forward to the moments you’d be locked inside your quarters again, recovering from your wounds; despite the pain, it were the only times when you had some peace. Now, however, you’d wish someone was here. You hoped Annette and Richter were safe, wherever they were…

You laid on the bed and faced the ceiling. The scepter was also over the bed, right beside you.

And you just… stayed there.

Your fingers fiddled with the red string on your left wrist mindlessly. Alucard didn’t make a complicated tie as to keep it easy to undo, so you took care to not untie it by accident. This little piece of braided wool had magic in it… but you didn’t feel anything strange while touching it.

You remembered how Alucard felt that the scepter was magic just by touching it, while for you it was just a normal object. You remembered how Richter could summon elements with his bare hands and Annette could see spirits as easily as people…. Perhaps you had no aptitude for magic at all. Perhaps they made you read that book because they needed a human to complete the summoning of an eclipse, not because you had some sort of hidden power.

You touched the scepter again without bothering to look at it. Cold and lifeless as usual.

Maybe it had that reaction – shining, the rust disappearing – because it needed someone to… awaken it. Anyone. Not you specifically.

But it must had been touched by someone before, isn’t it? Of course it was. It didn’t walk into that crate. Someone put it there.

You groaned and turned to your right side.

Minutes went by. Minutes, minutes, minutes. You were on high alert, so your eyelids didn’t feel heavy with sleep.

You laid on your stomach and brought the scepter close to your face.

These characters… you recognized them.

Alucard told you to not read them out loud, but he didn’t say anything about writing them.

You got up and rushed to the desk. There was a small drawer there with a piece of paper and some charcoal. You laid on your stomach again and started to translate the characters into the common Latin alphabet. Alucard might not recognize the characters, but what if he saw the syllables in a language he could read and the words made sense to him?

As the scepter had a lot of text and you didn’t have much paper, you tried to keep the letters as tiny as possible. You broke the charcoal a bit to make a sharper point. Your hands and the sheets got dirty with the black of the charcoal, but you couldn’t care less.

You didn’t pay attention to the time now that you had something to busy yourself with. Minutes went by. Minutes, minutes, minutes. An hour. Half an hour.

You had little free paper left and a lot to translate still when a sound out there immediately brought you back to your senses.

You froze and looked towards the window.

The street was very quiet up until that point – you even wondered if nights in Paris were always so peaceful. That sound, however, was impossible to ignore; was impossible to not make your heart immediately race.

A scream.

You got up in a jump and approached the window slowly, peeking at it with caution.

The scream came from a nearby street, followed by fast steps. Another scream. It sounded female.

No… it sounded childish.

Maybe it’s nothing. Just a kid spooked by a dog or a rat. Nothing to worry about. You shouldn’t get on your nerves every time you hear a scream.

You stood by the window for some more minutes, your heart thundering nonstop… and nothing appeared. You sighed, tried to calm your already irregular breathing. Focus on a single thing, a simple thing, to muffle everything else–

Someone running down there on the street.

You eyes widened. Your breath got completely caught in your throat.

It was a kid. A small kid, desperately running away from something. A boy. You recognized the worn out clothes and the curly black hair.

The lily in the pocket of your vest seemed to get hot.

It was Oliver.

When he disappeared from your sight, you saw what he was running from: three men. They laughed as they pursued him.

Three vampires.

You grabbed the scepter, the piece of paper and without taking a single second to think, you were already running out of the room.

The only things you could hear were your deep breathing, your thundering heartbeat and your boots rushing on the wooden pavement, then on the stone street as you rushed out of the inn. You almost fell when taking a sudden turn in the direction you saw Oliver running to. The street was completely empty and cold, but your body already felt hot from adrenaline.

You ran as fast as your legs could take. Please let me not be too late please please please please please please please please please–

Another strangled scream followed by more voices coming from an alley nearby.

You didn’t take a second to consider what you were going to do, how you were going to save him from this situation.

You just rushed into it.

“Oliver!” You screamed, stopping on your tracks.

The scene unfolding in front of you made your blood boil in a mix of anger and fright.

Oliver, the little boy, had fallen; his back was pressed against the wall. It was a dead end. His knee bled – he had probably fallen –, tears streamed down his cheeks, his pants were wet. He was shaking; his eyes, the most widened you’d ever seen.

The three vampires cornered him. They wore simple clothes, but all of them shared a similar trait: the symbol of an eclipse burned into the skin of their foreheads.

They immediately turned around at the sound of your voice.

For a moment, everyone was shocked – you, Oliver, the vampires. They were the first ones to recover.

“M-Madame!” Oliver stuttered in a strangled, horrified voice.

The vampire in the middle smirked.

“What do we have here?”

“This is even better than that bastard,” the one on the right laughed. “No one told you to not walk around at night by yourself, sweetie?”

“Leave him alone,” you blurted out. You didn’t sound that frightened, at least, because your body hadn’t properly processed what the hell you had gotten yourself into yet.

“Oh, we might now that you’re here.” One of them said with a disgusting smirk. “And what is it that you’re carrying with you? Looks interesting.”

They started to approach at slow steps.

You knew how vampires acted. They didn’t see you as a threat, so they would not use their inhuman speed. No; they wanted to savor your panic, to make you think you’d have a way out the way they did with Oliver. Vampires acted as cruel hunters, not as animal predators that acted purely on instinct and hunger.

That’s why they didn’t notice when you put your left wrist behind your back and swiftly untied the string.

I’m sorry, Alucard, you thought as the reality of that moment finally hit you. You… you did it again. You put yourself in danger again, exactly the opposite of what Alucard told you to do. But if you had waited for him, if you had untied the string at the inn and then explained what happened and then hoped that Alucard caught the vampires in time, would Oliver still be alive? Would he have an extra minute of luck?

Whatever these vampires were about to do with you – it didn’t matter. You could take it. Oliver couldn’t. The same way Annette wouldn’t have taken the night creature’s bite.

“M-Madame, run!”

His voice caught your attention again.

That little boy had wet himself in fear. He could barely stand. And yet, he was telling you to run. He was worried about your safety.

That little boy.

So small and so fragile and wearing those worn out clothes and shaking and hurt.

It brought forward an instinct within you. Perhaps that same instinct you felt when you looked at Richter’s sad expression. A will to take care. To protect. Something that run deep into your soul, something very familiar in ways you couldn’t explain, as if you had been in a similar situation in the past, as if you had felt this desperate need to protect someone small and fragile and dear to you.

These men were going to kill that little boy and he wouldn’t even be able to fight back.

This strange instinct to protect and the anger towards these men and the revolt because you had been in similar situations too, countless times, and you couldn’t do anything to fight back against a force tenfold stronger than you made your mind go blank.

Blank, blank, blank, devoid of any thought. Any fear. Any hesitance. At that moment, there wasn’t anxiety anymore. Your fingers didn’t shake. You didn’t think of any consequence.

All that existed was the need to protect that little boy.

One of the vampires approached and grabbed the scepter roughly. Instinctively, you held it with both hands, trying to pull it back.

And then – the vampire screamed.

A sizzling noise filled the alley.

“Let me go! Let me go!” He screamed.

The scepter was burning his hands. He couldn’t take them off.

Your mind didn’t register well everything that happened in the following seconds.

The moment you held it with both hands, it started to glow again – but in a different way than before.

The inscriptions started to glow. That same glow traveled from one end to the other – to the tip of the scepter; the image of the sun.

It started to shine.

The light was blinding. You had to tighten your eyes. It was hot hot hot hot, you almost dropped it on the floor, but something told you to keep holding it. So you held it with all your might. You felt a strange wave of energy flow from your body towards the scepter.

The little sun of the scepter shone, brightening the entire alley as if day turned to night–

And the three vampires yelled in agony.

They tried to cover their faces, tried to run away – but it was already too late. Their skin began to burn as if they were set on fire. Their muscle, their clothes, their scalp, their bones, everything was burning. The vampire that tried to grab it was the first to fall on the floor, agonizing, until he finally stopped moving. The other two screamed, yelled with nowhere to run. Their limbs were way too damaged to move.

You felt that your heart was burning, too.

Finally, the burning was too much for you to take. With a scream of effort, you dropped the scepter with a loud metallic noise and fell back on the floor.

The light extinguished.

You panted. You supported your body on your arms. Finally, the screaming stopped.

There were three dead vampires on your feet.

Their carcasses completely burned, unrecognizable. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air. Smoke clouded the alley.

You started shaking again.

What– What just happened?!

But then, you heard another tiny voice besides yours and you remembered that there was someone you still needed to take care of. You got up from the floor, not daring to touch the scepter again, tip toeing to avoid stepping over the bodies.

You knelt in front of Oliver and held him by both arms.

“What are you doing here at this hour?!” You lashed out. “Alucard told you to not get out at night!”

The boy sobbed.

“I-I-I’m s-sorry, m-madame,” he stuttered between his cries. “I-I-I was t-trying to help. I-I was t-telling people to g-get into their houses. I was already g-going back home…”

You wiped his tears with the sleeve of your blouse before hugging him. Tight. Oliver cried on your shoulder, his little body shaking against yours.

A hand touched your shoulder from behind – which caused you to gasp loudly.

Alucard had the most shocked, confused expression you’d ever seen. It was one of the rare moments when he wasn’t being subtle.

“What happened?” Was all he asked, but it sounded like a demand.

No no no that’s not what you should ask right now. Oliver is the priority.

The boy leaned away from you and you held his shoulders again. “Where do you live?”

He sniffed and rubbed his nose. His little face was all puffy and wet. “T-Two streets away from here.”

You got up and took his hand. “Let’s go.”

“Ruby–“

“Let’s go,” you interrupted Alucard. “I need to take him home.”

Take him home take him home take him home. Yes, this is what I need to do. This is all that matters.

You walked on a beeline with a rushed pace towards the exit of the alley – both the scepter and the piece of paper with your translations completely forgotten on the floor. Alucard followed you closely, but in silence. Oliver’s little hand was still shaking. You held it tightly.

After no more than five minutes of walking, he pointed towards his house. You leaned down and hugged him again.

“Don’t leave your house. Did you understand? Do not walk out under any circumstance. Tell your parents about it.” You repeated in a serious authoritarian tone you didn’t recognize yourself. Have you ever spoken that way before?

Oliver nodded and apologized again. Finally, he waved a last goodbye and entered the house.

It seems that you just started to breathe again when you heard the sound of the door locking.

A few seconds of silence went by.

“Ruby.”

You shivered and turned around.

Alucard looked down at you with frowned eyebrows. Was he angry? Oh fuck, of course he was angry. You put yourself in danger again. You did what you shouldn’t. You got out of the inn without his permission.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt your mission. I hope I didn’t cause any trouble for you,” you started while avoiding his gaze vehemently. Your fingers were trembling again; you hid them behind your back.

“Can you tell me what–“

“Oliver was being chased by vampires. I saw them running through the window and I couldn’t hold myself back. I’m sorry, I know you told me to not put myself in danger. B-But I couldn’t just stay still, you see?” You couldn’t shut up. Why couldn’t you shut up? Why was your voice shaking? “I didn’t want to make you angry.”

“I’m not angry at you.”

“And then– the scepter– it did that thing again. I don’t know how that happened. It– it got so hot out of sudden, and then the vampires were burning too. I d-don’t know if I was the one to do it. I just didn’t want Oliver to die. I hope I didn’t cause any trouble.”

“You didn’t, Ruby.”

“Oh– I left if on the floor, didn’t I? I’m sorry. I put you through all the trouble of going back to the Louvre only to drop it at the alley. I s-should take it back. Oh! And I was translating the writings too. I think I dropped the paper… well, I wasn’t translating anything, I was just writing the words in our alphabet, and I don’t know it’ll be useful at all but I wanted to help somehow–“

“Ruby.”

The words got stuck in your throat.

Alucard cupped your face with both hands, forcing you to look at him and nothing else.

He frowned. “You’re burning.”

You blinked rapidly. “What? N-No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I can feel it through the gloves.” Alucard used his teeth to take the glove off his right hand; he pressed it over your forehead. He was probably trying to help, but that action made you feel even hotter on the inside. “We need to do something about it.”

“No!” You blurted out. “No, there’s no need. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’ll heal. I always do.”

“Ruby.” He called again.

Alucard shoved the glove inside his coat and held your face with both hands again; he lowered himself slightly to get closer to your eye level.

“I am not angry at you.” He started in a slow and quiet voice. “You didn’t interrupt me. You did nothing wrong. But I need you to understand that you are spiraling, and I need you to calm down first.”

S… Spiraling? You were spiraling?

You gulped and nodded.

“Breathe with me.” He instructed patiently.

Inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. You followed his slow pace.

Adrenaline dissipated in your bloodstream; your head got quieter again. Your heart stopped running and went back to walking. Your hands, however, were still shaking.

You lowered your head, desperately trying to avoid his gaze, when you felt tears well up your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you said in a weak tone.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Alucard’s voice was even quieter than usual… even gentler. He didn’t step away. His thumb caressed your cheek with care.

“I got so scared. I thought Oliver was going to die.”

Why did you even confess that? You weren’t sure; your brain wasn’t working properly anymore. But yes, that was true. You were scared of getting hurt – you were just used to pain, you didn’t like it – but you were even more scared of seeing that boy die in front of you. So small and so innocent and so familiar for some reason.

Why was that familiar? Why were you so confused? What the hell just happened?

You had no answer to any of these questions. All you wanted to do was cry at that moment – but not in front of him. Never in front of him; it’d be too humiliating. You wanted to step away, to have some space to recover. You wanted to hide from him.

Alucard had other plans.

When the first stubborn tear streamed down your cheek, Alucard pulled you closer to his body. His hands let go of your face; instead, he wrapped his arms around you. He was delicate. Hesitant, even.

Your face was then hidden in his chest.

Alucard didn’t say anything. Perhaps there was nothing he could’ve said at that moment, so he decided to act.

You froze at first. This… this was the closest you’ve ever been to him – at least while fully conscious, a proximity Alucard established willingly. You didn’t even know you had the right to stand that close to him.

When was the last time someone offered you comfort like that?

If it had happened before, you didn’t remember.

Slowly, your body melted under his. Your tense members softened. His sweet scent enveloped you. With much hesitance, you wrapped your arms around his body too, under his cape – and in the moment Alucard realized you accepted his embrace, he held you just a little tighter, a little more comfortable. One of his hands caressed your hair, while the other wrapped around your back.

You did your best to swallow any incoming sobs, forcing yourself to cry in silence. If Alucard even noticed you were crying, he didn’t show it. He just kept his arms around you protectively… affectionately. It made your insides feel warm in a way not even that strange scepter could.

None of you said a word, though there was much to be said. Both of you understood the gravity of what just happened. The three burnt carcasses were there at the alley, waiting to be inspected.

But that could wait for now. Nothing had the right to pierce through the small bubble of peace you shared.

You just stayed there in each other’s embrace for longer than your confused brain could register.

The bright full moon, reining sovereign in the sky, was your only witness.

[irisinluv]

Caleb Love and deep space thoughts- SPOILERS AHEAD

Second update of brain dumping my thoughts as I play through the game… this time entirely Caleb focused

Ok so I’ve been reading Caleb’s anecdotes, dates, every scrap of info that becomes available to me…. And holy shit he’s such a simp!

Man almost fucking died, was lost in space for 2 weeks, and he’s just like “haha hey pipsqueak! Yea secret training mission, sorry, I’m back online!” As he’s in a hospital bed. Like baby boy not letting mc know he almost died???? And then the card/memory/whatever it’s called where he’s sick, and she has to basically beg him all day to let her in? Man wants to be Superman for her. Seriously, he’s out here becoming a pilot cuz it would pay well and help provide for mc, and if anything happened he could just whisk her away.

He literally worships the ground mc walks on. Obsessed with the necklace he gave him, kissing the pendant before each flight, not letting her lift a finger at the house when it comes to chore type things, using his evol to win her plushies at the claw machine… also he’s soooo obviously into the domestic life with mc! His house is bare bones before the reunion. Then MC shows up and there’s the scene where he’s surrounded by boxes, setting things up….. I picture him totally kicking himself for not having everything set up sooner, bc he got a house just so she could move in. I see him just living in an apartment that’s part of the officer barracks. There’s no reason why he has a whole ass house if not for mc. He just didn’t expect her to have infiltrated his ranks as a spy and to pop up so soon…. But hey she’s here now and so he’s totally buying everything and having a hot ikea build sesh in that slutty little tank top of his.

Oh and you know he’s a cheeky idiot about the fact that mc picked his room when deciding where to stay. Like we got that from the gameplay obviously…. But I just want to take moment to appreciate how hard that man must have been grinning on the inside. I also think it’s so cute that mc really is just making his place a second home. She’s got a little garden going at his house! She talks about the little yellow flowers she planted there in one of the text messages, and when he mentioned restocking his snacks on a community post mcs already planning on raiding it.

Also he’s been so obsessed with her since they were kids. Like he’s got some weird amnesia brain trauma shit going on after his deep space incident, and he scored poorly on the mental health portion of his exams (not him answering the “what’s the greatest challenge with flight missions?” Question with “it’s hard to get home on time”), and I’m assuming he was also an experiment by ever like MC is (but I haven’t gotten to the point where I can say that for sure), but like. That isn’t why he’s the way he is. Man was out here protecting her from bullies, the thing where he’d buy two of everything for mc, think he said something like “I wanted to grow up to be the most loyal… well you know, I could be” LOYAL HUSBAND? But from the jump he’s been doing everything for her. It’s so interesting getting this background from all the memories and whatnot. Like he’s made it such a source of pride to take care of mc in every tiny way, and so when she says stuff about not needing him, or uh, I don’t remember what thing it was part of but she fixed some electronic and was like “damn that was easier than I thought, guess I gotta stop bugging you for every tiny little thing, I can just figure it out.” and he PANICS! Like no baby- that’s his comfort thing. No matter what else is going on, at least he can feel needed and wanted when you come playfully whining to him that you can’t find your favorite mug. He’s the walking advertisement for acts of service. Also one last thing.

Yall noticed how he put his hat on mc like right after the reunion? The only thing I could think of is what it means when you put on a guys cowboy hat. Like damn Caleb. She’s still in shock that you’re not dead. But get it ig.

[awniie]

AT LEAST LOOK AT ME WHEN YOU LIE

ᣞ ⊹ ݁ summary: your boyfriend suguru finds the best way to punish you !!

꒰ content: mean!sugu, fem!reader, pussyslapping, praise/degradiation, cum denial, feel like this whole thing is kinda a niche kink

ㅤㅤㅤ⭑ notes: my ‘mean suguru’ drabble was based on this so if some stuff sounds familiar it’s cus i took this n drabble-fied it; also this is for the anon who asked for it <33 ALSO @d0nk3y-k0ng my new-found geto fixation is your fault <33

“Suguru, can you help me?…this thing is too heavy!” you called out, voice straining as you struggled to bring the giant cardboard box through the door. It was way too heavy for you, and of course the delivery people had quickly set it outside the door, escaping the potential work of having to bring it inside. Your boyfriend quickly rushed to your aid, grabbing the opposite side of the box. “I got it baby, where did you wanna put it again?” Suguru asked, setting the box against the wall and looking at you.

“I wanted to put it in the living room. That way it’ll be the most accessible.” You told him. You two hand just moved into your new place and decorating was the sole thing on your mind. You spent hours on pinterest, trying to find the perfect aesthetic for your new home. You valued your home,so much so that you started repeating all those cringey aphorisms whenever you were questioned about your new-found obsession.

“Home is where the heart is, sugu.” You told him. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, but what does that anything to do with spending $100 on a house plant?” You let out a sheepish laugh. “Well…I can take care of the plant. Which takes heart…?” You murmured. It was an inane suggestion, which was appropriate for the circumstance of spending $100 on a plant. “Sounds a bunch of bullshit to me.” Your boyfriend told you. He was necessarily happy with all the money being spent on what seemed like superficial things, he seemed to be happy with the results of your decorating.

It took about 30 minutes to situate this new mirror, but for good reasons. It was big, like really big. Leaning, it was taller than you and almost as tall as your 6’3 boyfriend. It was wide as well, providing a perfect view of anyone who looked into it. It was a gorgeous peice of furniture. The frame was a creamy white, with ornate molding. There were carefully crafted swirls and curves on it, with tiny clay embellishment. It had looked like something out of a fairytale, like a mirror that could reveal the deepest desires of whoever dared look inside. It was perfect for your new house, the only thing that wasn’t so perfect was the extravagant price. Your jaw almost dropped when you saw the cost. No way in hell would Suguru let you buy it, no matter how much you beg or how many tears you spill.

So you searched for alternatives. Any sort of duplicate or listing on another site would be scouted out and search throughly before you succumb your wallet to $2,500. You must’ve been god-kissed that day, as the only cheaper listing was $1,700. Still, it wasn’t something you felt 100% sure about buying, but what other options were there? Suguru would be proud of you for finding a cheaper offering and thinking about a budget. So, you went ahead and bought it, feeling pretty proud of yourself for doing so. Did you tell Suguru about the purchase? no way. You’d only tell him if he asked, and you prayed with all your heart that he wouldn’t.

“Sooo…do you like it?” you asked him hopefully. Maybe he would say yes and then move on to something else, and not ask that dreadful question. Maybe, when you told him about the bargain you made, he’d be proud of you for your efforts. “Mhmmm, t’s real pretty.” He put his hand on his chin, as if thinking. “How much did we pay for this again?” Suguru asks, stepping back and giving it an appraisal.

Shit. It was silent for a good 10 seconds. You could feel the way your words dried up on your tongue and died, as if they were too scared to come up. He raised an eyebrow and asks again, looking at you through the reflection of the mirror. “How much did we pay for this thing?” Stil not answer. He came up behind you, snaking one arm around your waist, while his open hand went to your chin. “Baby, you gon’ answer me?” His ghostly purple eyes searing yours through that cursed mirror.

…

“I-I just forgot to tell you-…!” you whined, legs buckling as you felt another sharp stinging sensation land on puffy clit.

“Oh, you did?” Suguru asked facetiously. You nod and cry as you feel another slap land on your clit. He then grabs your face with his hands, holding your cheeks between his slick-coated fingers. “At least look at me when you lie, baby.” He said as he guided your face in the mirror.

This was humiliating. He had you spread out on the floor, pussy glistening and your back pressed up against his chest. He had took upon himself to punish you, which subsequently turned into something lewd and twisted. Hence the being sprawled out, leggings and panties long discarded and receiving countless slaps on your cunt. It was painfully obvious that he was hard, feeling his length that was being squashed up against your ass. Your hair was messy and out of place, your skin sticky while drool and tears coated your chin. The worst part? He was doing this right infront of the new mirror and he wouldn’t even let you look away, so you were forced to fully embrace your current state.

“Please sugu. I didn’t mean too…just lemme cum please? You begged, your voice shaky and full of hiccups.

“Noo, only good girls get to cum .” He cooed, his finger playing with your little bundle of nerves. You’d been at this for about an hour now. He’d start to finger your cunt, and then he’d hit it as punishment. The closest you’ve been to finishing was the half-broken orgasm you’d stolen from his fingering, which in return you got another slap.

“Could’ve been done a long time ago. You’re making this so difficult for me baby.” He whispered in your ear, as if this hurt him more than it did you. “So now, are you gonna tell me the truth, or are you gonna keep lying to me? Cus’ trust me, I won’t hesitate to hit this pussy again” He threatened, the hand on your sticky clit moving even more slowly as an incentive.

You meant to shake your head, but when he swiftly plunged his fingers into your weeping cunt, the sloppy sounds of your slick, must’ve drowned out whatever of your senses was left. “y-yes…!”

You saw the gleam of that dangerous smile in the mirrors reflection. “I knew you would. Such a smart girl, yeah?”

Then your boyfriend laughed, a soft and smooth laugh that should not have gone down to your lower stomach with molten delicious heat. Could you blame yourself though? His fingers were pumping in-and-out of you with tantalizing proficiency, making your insides do somersaults. The way that syrupy-sweet praises dripped off his tongue alongside bitter jeers. Your brain was too far fucked out for so many conflicting emotions. “Go on now..say what you needa say to me.”

“m’ sorry for spending your money sugu! I shouldn’t have bought it, should’ve a-asked!” You confessed, buckling you hips in tandem with his fingers. “Ah ah…no moving.” He reprimanded, taking those fingers out and slapping your hole again. Your body jolted at the sudden sting and then slumped back against his chest.

“Look at you, all teary eyed and wet-pussied. You like this shit, don’t yeah?” He catchesized, with that stupid-stupid smirk on his face. “I bet you’re not sorry at all.”

“No-yes-no m’ sorry..! M’ really really sorry! ” You could barely understand what he was saying. Your pleasure was the only thing that mattered right now, all other senses finger-fucking out of you a long time ago. Geto loved you like this though. Fucked dumb and too far down the abyss of your own pleasure to think properly, all inhibitions lost. It was the easiest way to get an answer out of you.

“I think you bought this mirror just for yourself. Just so you could watch yourself get fucked? He guessed, dragging his hands across your quivering thighs. You hated how soft his voice sounded, especially when accusing you. whimpered as he did, wishing he’d just hurry and put you out of your misery. “N-no”

he frowned, stopping his hand in its tracks. He brought his lips close to shell of you ear, sending shivers down your spine and more wetness to your cunt. “Look at me, and don’t lie.”

You looked at him, straight through the mirror. “I promise, i didn't sugu. I just wanted our home to look nice!” you confessed, sniffling and squeezing your thighs together to create some sort of friction for your achey pussy.

Suguru felt his heart melt a little. You were so pitiful with your shaky mewls and whines . He couldn't help but feel a little bad for being so mean to his precious girl. He shouldn't punish you too hard, obviously you didn't know much better. “Aww..look at that face. How could I be so mean?” He told you, trailing that finger up on down your slit. He smiled at how you hips yet again bucked at his wandering digits. “So needy. Poor baby, drooling n’ crying just like this pussy. Guess I should give you what you want, yeah?”

“Mh! Yes sugu, please lemme cum now! I’m so sorry, won’t do this ever again.” You begged. At this point you were full on crying, all other senses overrides by your need to cum. His thick fingertip teased your sopping entrance, re-coating the fingers in cum.

He simply laughed, diving those fingers back into your pulsing heat. “Oh, I know baby. I know. Now watch me as I give this pussy just what she needs.”

[live-laugh-lenney]

LOCKED IN | ARTHUR FREDERICK

a whole year and it's finally with you! thank you for all your patience and all your lovely messages and comments about this new chaptered fic; i'm so incredibly excited (and incredibly nervous) to share it with you and show you the project i've been working on these last twelve months. i wanted it to be absolutely perfect before you got your hands on it. feedback is always welcomed and my inbox is always open so please, please, please don't hesitate to let me know your thoughts on the story. enjoy! <33

- C H A P T E R O N E -

“I’m actually terrified.”

The black car, donned with the FootAsylum logo that had been printed on the back passenger doors, rolled up the gravel driveway and stopped before a modern-looking home hidden deep in the countryside of a place she could tell was hours from home. With her phone being taken away and with nothing to keep her occupied, except picking at her nails nervously or chewing on the inside of her mouth, she couldn’t keep track of the hours she’d been sat in the car… but given the numb bum and the sickly feeling from the rumble of the car and having nothing to eat due to her nerves, she would have guessed her travel time had been, at least, two hours. Studio lights littered around to keep the grounds lit so everyone knew where they were going, the house being illuminated and almost in a spotlight to give it a real studio vibe, and it had finally set in her mind rather quickly that this was her reality for the next two weeks. The nerves that she tried to hide, swallowing back every lump in her throat and ignoring every bad thought that crossed her mind, were slowly coming back to haunt her and her knees couldn’t stop bouncing in the footwell in the back seat. 

“This is terrifying.”

Once the car came to a stop at the end of the driveway, she took a moment to herself.

The driver sat in the front, plugging in a destination into his built-in sat-nav that would either be taking him home or back to a building where the producers and the directors of the show were all huddled inside, yet she couldn’t bring herself to be nosey. And as her hand came to clasp around the handle of the backdoor, she could see her hand shuddering with uncertainty. There was no chance she was backing out of this opportunity now; it was the first day and she wanted to prove to people she could do this. That she was worthy of a place in the house. Having been on the Youtube scene for just over 12 months, she never thought her first year would end in her being part of a reality show centred around those with huge followings and a name for themselves and she wanted to show how serious she was about taking any given opportunity in her grasp and enjoying every moment life had to offer her.

Once she saw who she was going to be locked into a home with for two weeks, she did some digging on just who they were, putting a face to a name and googling them in hopes to find their social media accounts. Gaining the basic information and following their Instagrams and subscribing to their Youtube channels so she could scope out everyone as to not seem so clueless once she walked into the house. 

So she knew of a few of them.

It was nerve-wrackingly brand-new for her and it was something she never imagined herself doing when she posted her very first Youtube video just a short twelve months ago; being pushed into a house with nine other Youtubers who were practically strangers to her and, in that moment and before she met then, it was something she considered to be almost as bad as a worst nightmare.

The gravel rocks and the tiny stones of the pathway crunched beneath her trainers as she neared where she assumed the front door to the house was. Her eyes scanned across the wooden panelling of the front and she truly felt like an idiot, even more so because of the cameras hidden in every nook and cranny around her that would pick up her dumbfounded moments, as she tried to find a door handle or a doorbell that would somehow get her into the warmth of the house. The black bag on her shoulder which she, and the entire cast of the second season, had been asked to advertise as they walked up the entrance, kept slipping down to her elbow and eventually she gave up adjusting it and just let it swing to and fro as she questioned everything happening before her.

“How the hell do I get in? Is this a challenge or something? I feel like I’m being punked here.”

There was a gentle change in the way the wall was built and she pushed a panel to make the front door more noticeable, revealing the entrance hallway of the place that was going to be her new home for the next fortnight. Light strips coloured with neon green lighting her way, stuck to the walls and almost guided her in the right direction of where everyone else seemed to have congregated, fitting the whole aesthetic and colour theme of how the show was advertised and promoted on the outside world. Lots of monochrome, blacks and whites, with a burst of colour that surrounded her. The heat of the inside immediately hit her as she stepped foot into the hallway and let the door close behind her with a whoosh, shutting by itself once it hit the frame of the doorway. The lights were bright, as opposed to the scenery of the sun setting upon her arrival, and she could hear the chaos of everyone already enjoying themselves and introducing themselves further to each other - and she secretly prayed that she wasn’t the last one to enter the house. 

She took the chance to have a quiet glance around at where she was before she made her way into the centre of the house, cautious as she looked around to make sure no one was hiding and ready to jump out and make her jump, because that was the one thing she absolutely hated and she definitely would have held a grudge, mentally planning the next move in an unproposed prank war between herself and the housemates. 

“There’s someone coming.”

“Guys, someone’s here!”

“Someone new!”

“Finally!”

“That makes ten of us. I reckon that’s all of us here.”

YN stood still on the spot, taking in the deepest intake of breath to prepare herself before she exhaled slowly through puckered lips, trying to rid herself of the nerves that were sitting low in her stomach and making her feel sick, to keep her heart from racing and thumping rapidly in her chest.

When she was first asked to be one of the housemates for that year, she thought it looked fun and she was always up for trying new things and stepping out of her comfort zone. She was the biggest advocate for telling people, through her Youtube videos, that they should try out new things because they’ll never know how they feel unless they gave it a go. She shook her limbs to rid the nerves making her shake and she rolled her neck, giving herself the quickest pep-talk in her mind, and she took the last few steps from the room she was standing in and into, what she could only guess was, their kitchen and dining area together.

“Hi!”

“Oh my god, hi!”

“Hello!”

She was overwhelmed with the greetings, dropping her plastic FootAsylum bag to the floor and feeling the warm embrace of someone instantly wrapping their arms around her, a sweet and floral smell of someone’s perfume filling her nose as she reciprocated the hug, long hair tickling at her nose. Her eyes darted from face to face, slightly overwhelmed yet the feeling had slowly felt less suffocating and she took the chance to bolden her demeanour. The males taking their time to come forward and introduce themselves yet the females wasted no time in wanting to get to know her, patiently waiting for their time to bring her into a hug and find out more about her.

“I’m Anastasia,” the girl introduced herself and YN introduced herself in response, and she gave YN one final squeeze before pulling away, stepping aside for someone else to take her place. YN had seen Anastasia on her Youtube recommendations, at a time when she started gaining inspiration on how she wanted to run her channel and a long while back when it was just a mere thought, and it was nice to be given the chance to meet her on a more personal level than just what she showed for the cameras and for her vlogs. “It’s so good to finally meet you!”

A short queue-like crowd of eight other people had formed around her and the nerves that had been sitting in her belly had almost disappeared once she realised they were all in the same boat - no one really knew anyone in this place, they were all there to get to know one another and they were all there to fight for the winning place. They were all there for the same reasons, all going through the same thing, feeling the same feelings and experiencing the experience together so it made everything feel much less intimidating.

She hugged everyone around her, introducing herself as they introduced themselves, and they seemed like a truly good bunch of people to spend the next fourteen days with and she was excited to form special friendships with the whole lot of them. 

One guy hung behind from the introductions, waiting incredibly patiently, dressed in all black with the sleeves of his hoodie hiding his hands as his fingers played with the hem in a nervous manner. Brown hair upon his head, tousled and messy, and the most engaging brown eyes that didn’t seem to leave her face as he drank in everything about her. Every inch of his face was beautiful looking, sculpted perfectly, with the curve of the tip of his nose looking soft and the stretch of skin across his cheeks looking rosy and pink. She felt a connection to him, she felt easy around him without even knowing his name, and it was a feeling she couldn’t get rid of as if there was something that intrigued her about him that she was desperate to figure out.

“I’m Arthur. ArthurTV,” he grinned, almost hesitating as he went in to give her a hug, but barely resisting when she wrapped her arms around his neck and initiated the greeting between the two of them, forearms resting on his shoulders as her hands joined at the back of his neck, “it’s so lovely to meet you.”

“I’m YN,” she smiled softly to herself, reading off her Youtube name in a similar fashion to how he had introduced himself and he snickered softly as she pulled away from him and broadened the gap between their two bodies, “it’s lovely to meet you, too, Arthur.”

“Did you struggle as much as me to find the entrance to this place? Because I must have looked like a massive tit to the cameras when I walked straight past the entrance and round the corner in hopes I’d find a backdoor or something,” he admitted, a laugh following in suit as she giggled and shook her head, “honestly, I just hope everyone else did the same.”

“It took me ages to find the door. I didn’t walk past it but I just stood there, staring at it, trying to figure out what the hell was happening. Thought that if I stared long enough, I’d see into a void and it would just appear,” she admitted and shook her head at how silly she was going to look in the eyes of those watching when it went live over on Youtube, “we can both look like tits together, I guess. Great first impressions to the public and all.”

“I do say that we make quite the perfect pair,” he joked, internally wanting to crawl into a hole and disappear at how corny he must have sounded, except she laughed at his attempt at humour and he swore he felt butterflies in his belly, “come and get to know everyone properly. We think you were the last person to join us now there’s ten of us standing here.”

So she was the last.

She knew it.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦ ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

It was Spuddz’s idea.

“Hot Seat! Let’s do Hot Seat.”

And YN couldn’t lie, the volume at which he suggested it had woken her up a little from her daze. 

Her eyelids felt really heavy and her eyes were stinging, almost screaming at her to give in to the temptation of snoozing and go to nap, and that was probably due to the lack of sleep she’d gotten the night before her arrival into the house. Because all night, all she could think about was the worst of what was about to happen. In a situation unknown to her, with people she didn’t know well enough, all she could think about was how she’d be an outcast compared to everyone else. 

She didn’t want to be the first one to announce her departure from the room, disappearing and missing out on the rest of the evening, just because she needed an hour's shuteye to feel a little more refreshed. But the warmth between the arm of the sofa and having Arthur seated beside her was enough to lull her into a state of complete peace and relaxation, almost completely at ease with everyone, listening to everything that was happening around her and chiming in with her own questions whenever she was prompted with something when they spoke about something that piqued her interest in the matter. 

Arthur had been her saviour in the first few hours of being in the Locked In house.

She hadn’t been glued to his hip for the entirety of the evening… although she thought she had been. Since their first hello’s were shared just a few hours prior, she felt magnetised towards him. She wasn’t sure what it was about him but she felt like she could be herself around him… maybe it was because he had taken time to greet her and introduce himself, maybe it was because they had common traits that made them feel comfortable with each other, maybe it was because she found him attractive and wanted to get to know him more. She couldn’t put her finger on anything definite but he made her feel a sense of confidence within herself. Like she could do anything that FootAsylum threw at her.

She had taken time to pop over to the girls of the house and have a chat with them so she could understand who they were and what their personalities were like. And she had been indulged in a joke war with SomeJokeman when he broke their awkward silence by cracking out a ‘Knock Knock’ joke for her to answer. But she always found herself always gravitating back towards the brown-haired, brown-eyed man who kept himself to himself and let others involve him rather than forcing himself in conversations happening around him. He was the one who had shown her around the house, the one who let her know what bed was free and who had claimed certain spots to be theirs and he was the one who let her take in the surroundings on her own accord.

The late afternoon hours had passed by, although they had no idea on what the time was, and it felt like they’d known each other for longer than a mere few hours. Where everyone was bouncing off questions and getting to know one another in a setting that was getting quite loud and confusing, the suggestion of getting to know one another at the pace of one at a time was something they could all agree upon. 

“We’re gonna put Jamie in the hot seat first,” Spuddz informed, letting the lad stand up from his place on the sofa and in front of everyone, “please, young man, state your name for the audience.”

“My name’s Jamie, otherwise known as LDN Movements,” he started off, clapping his hands and clasping them together in front of him in a nervous way, “is this how we do this? You ask me questions and I just answer them?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Spuddz nodded, “like an interrogation.”

And it began from there. 

Question after question came out, and she couldn’t fault him and everyone else with how they dealt with the quickfire questions being thrown at them from all areas of the lounge room. Answering with detail and speaking with gusto and enthusiasm as they all took the chance to get to know one another; finding out what they were like as a person, what their Youtube careers was based upon, what they did when they weren’t filming and what their hobbies and passions in life were.

“YN! Our last little newcomer,” Steph grinned at her from the sofa on the right, wiggling her fingers in an attempt to get her to stand to her feet and take her place before everyone, “it’s your turn, darling.”

She sighed in feigned dramatics, rolling her head back against the sofa before smirking and standing to her feet, much to Arthur’s dismay as he felt the cold air take over where her warmth had once been.

“I’m YN, as you already know,” she smiled, drawing out a long curtsey before everyone, “I don’t really do very much, to be honest. I started out on Instagram, gained myself a good following of young people who were interested in reviews of different daily products and skincare routines and such, and I went from there. I’m a lifestyle Youtuber, I guess. Moved my content into a much longer form instead of small Instagram videos and stories.” 

“What is a ‘lifestyle Youtuber’?” Johnny asked, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees, resting his chin on the palms of his hands, “I’ve never really heard of that.”

“I basically just vlog about my life? I don’t know how to explain it,” she felt her cheeks getting hot under Johnny’s gaze and she stared at the floor beneath the lightened oak coffee table in the centre of the room, “I film bits of my day, what I do, I never understand why people enjoy watching videos about my life but… they got me here. Which, of course, I’m so thankful for. So many opportunities have come my way since then and it’s all because of them.”

When she posted her first video, a ‘get to know me’ post that consisted of a compilation of frequently asked questions from her Instagram page that people wanted to know about her, she had no idea that she would be where she is now. A video where she opened up and shared more about herself and her personal life - from the quick and easy questions about her relationship status and her family life and where she grew up and what she studied in school to what she wants out of life and where she sees herself in five years time and what she thinks is the biggest issue in the world as we know it - had gotten her onto a pedestaled platform where, for the year, she had been able to share her tips and her tricks in how to get by in certain scenarios. 

She vlogged her daily life, from the moment she woke up in the morning to the moment she laid her head down on her pillow at night, and people loved to see what she got up to. Her friends became constant guests in her videos, partaking in small challenges and Q and A’s that were topical to whoever she had on screen, and her fans loved to see her in her social group where she let her true enjoyment and her true self be seen. 

She loved what she did.

She was lucky to be where she was.

She had a supportive following who loved her, supported her, made sure to help boost her name into the general public and she repaid them back by giving them back the amount of love that they gave to her.

And she wouldn’t change any of it for the world.

“Here, here,” Jamie cheered, “very lucky to have people watch us and support whatever we choose to do.”

“I don’t think any of us would be here,” YN pointed to the exact spot she was standing in with both of her pointer fingers, “without our subscribers and our followers. I thank my lucky stars every single day that I am where I am.”

Steph cooed softly at the words YN let slip off her tongue and she suddenly felt very open and vulnerable.

“Do you just post videos about a day in your life? Do you do challenge videos or react videos or anything like that?” Arthur asked, also following in suit of Johnny and leaning forward, placing his elbows on his knees and cupping his own face with his palms and as similarly as they were sat, she could look into Arthur’s eyes and speak to him, “do you just do reviews or?”

“I just do reviews, yeah. I don’t really focus much on the internet world and celebrities but more the real world and I just have a chat with the camera as if I was talking to my followers personally. I talk about topics people are chatting about all the time, what people comment about, and what’s trending. Whenever I get asked to do advertisements and such, I review different make-up products, skin care products, I show off my bedtime routine and my make-up routine and what products I use for skincare. I get sent clothes from various brands and do mini hauls, in the summer and the winter, on what I like and what suits me and what I would wear for specific occasions,” she grinned softly, “I should get you guys on. I think I could definitely use Arthur as a dummy to test out different make-up looks.”

Arthur blushed and shook his head, cackling softly, “I think you’re the more beautiful one out of us. You don’t need me to ruin it.”

“Arthur has rizz, you know!” Jokeman bellowed from beside him, clapping him on the shoulder as he blushed in his seat, “this is like a dating show, I’m telling you. Watch this space! Locked In is the new Love Island.”

There’s a chime that brings the conversation to a halt, saving Arthur from any more embarrassment from what the others had to tease him about, with the screen lighting up on the wall with an announcement, in the form of a tweet from Twitter, appearing on the screen.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦ ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

From the moment she arrived, YN had been craving a bed.

As soon as her head hit the plush cushion at the height of the bed, her slippers having been kicked off at the side and her pillows plumped up so she could sleep a little more upright, she could feel her eyes getting heavier and heavier as she got more and more comfortable. Watching as everyone else readied themselves for bed, with make-up free faces and blankets wrapped around their shoulders, dressed in the comfiest of clothing as they went about their nightly routine. Teeth being brushed, faces being washed, clambering into bed before the lights went out.

To one side of her, she had Anastasia.

To the other side, she had Arthur.

A grin on his lips as he made eye contact with her from beneath the duvet that was pulled up to his chest, hair tousled and his fringe sticking to his slightly damp forehead from where he’d washed his face, cheeks red from where he had scrubbed his skin with a cleansing wash. Her cheeks flushing red once she realised he was looking at her and she giggled softly and shook her head at him, pulling her own duvet to her chin and nestling a little further down on the mattress.

A grin on his lips as he made eye contact with her from beneath the duvet that was pulled up to his chest, hair tousled and his fringe sticking to his slightly damp forehead from where he’d washed his face, cheeks red from where he had scrubbed his skin with a cleansing wash. Her cheeks flushing red once she realised he was looking at her and she giggled softly and shook her head at him, pulling her own duvet to her chin and nestling a little further down on the mattress.

“It was good meeting you, YN.”

“You say that like we’re gonna be apart forever after we close our eyes. Like we’re just gonna die and never wake up,” she snorted, rolling onto her side to face him better, “sucks for you that you’re gonna be stuck with me in here for the next two weeks.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad to me,” he hummed, closing his eyes and pretending to fall asleep, leaving her in a slight state of shock as she took in what he had said so nonchalantly.

[jarofstyles]

The Heart Of The Woods

Hi my loves! I wanted to give you guys a peek into our grumpy mountain manrry! He’s different to some that I’ve written before but I think you’ll like him if you give him a chance

Read the series ( 9 parts ongoing) and 220+ exclusive writings on our Patreon!

WC- 1.4k

Warnings- tiny bit of rejection, asshole h

He hadn’t been sure what he was thinking.

Hiring a housekeeper had not been on his agenda, but it put his mum at ease. Being far from her, up in his large cabin in the middle of the mountain, she had said she worried a lot about not only his well being, but about him overworking himself. His days started early, working on splitting wood, emails, driving down to deliver it, and all of that. His group of employees that worked on the lot not too far from his own place up the mountain were his main source of socialization and even they knew not to bug him too much.

Harry preferred to be left alone.

So why hire a housekeeper? It sounded okay at the time. Someone to keep the fire stoked and the house warm so he could come home and not have the house be cold for him and his animals, someone to cook and clean and… another body in the house. Make it less lonely. Maple was a good companion, Ash was too, but a dog and a cat didn’t replace human connection. Perhaps that’s why he had found himself feeling more irritated lately.

Watching the car pull in, he had to wonder how she could fit her belongings into such a small vehicle. Weren't women supposed to have a lot of stuff? The question was answered as she stepped out of the car, light wash jeans clinging to her thighs and pink sweater hanging on her form as she waved up to him. "Hi!" she grinned a tad bit too brightly for his comfort, jogging up to the wraparound porch. "I’m so sorry l'm a little late. I got lost at the turn- the split in the road? and I didn't have good service to call and let you know. I usually try and do that.”

She was rambling.

He grumbled, wiping his hands on his work pants. “Late's fine. I didn’t have any plans today, just don’t make a habit of it.” Glancing at her car, then back at her, he gave her a little bit of a look. “You got everything you need?” He wasn’t the best at socializing, famously, but she wasn’t aware of that yet considering their talk had mainly consisted of emails. It would be something she quickly found out.

“Oh!” Her chuckle was nervous as the man stood tall above her on the wooden porch, making her look up a bit at him. “Uh, yeah. I.. I kinda had to get out of my place in a hurry, so this worked out.” She smiled up at him before looking back to her car. “Did you want me to grab my stuff now or did you want me to do it after you give me the run down of what you want me to do?”

He sighed, stepping aside to let her pass. “Follow me.” He led her inside, shutting the door behind her. It was weird feeling someone else in his space. It had been a long time since he’d heard footsteps other than his own or his pets in the hall, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it yet. Leading her down the wooden hall, he brought her towards the main part of the house- a large step down living room he mentally referred to as the den. The stone fireplace was lit with the fire going already as he gestured to a chair by it. “Sit.”

Y/N was distracted a little by the skylight- and then the view outside. It was absolutely gorgeous. The whole place was. She had slightly underestimated it despite the size of the place when she had applied to work eyes but she would make it work. At least the view was great. She could see that there was a deck outside, the view of the mountains sprawling behind them sort of blowing her away. The awe only lasted a few moments though, when she heard him clear his throat. Oops. “Sorry.” She smiled nervously. “The view distracted me. You’ve got a beautiful home.”

He grunted, not really used to compliments. Small talk wasn’t his thing. He sat down in his recliner, stretching his legs out in front of him before resting his hands on his knees. “So, as your employer, I expect you t’keep this place clean. Cook meals, do laundry, that sort of thing.” He paused, looking at her critically. “M’not home most of the day, and when I am I’m usually in my workshop. It’s the building out to the side that you saw.” He clasped his hands together. “We don’t need to have a ton of interaction. I need you to keep the fire stoked, maybe feed Ash for me if I get back late. I don’t have a lot of rules, but I ask you to respect my space.”

“Uh, alright.” She nodded, taking out her phone to take notes. “I figured the normal house stuff. I…” Her body felt the cringe as she went to ask it. “I haven’t really stoked a fire longer than it’s taken to do a bonfire while camping so, if there’s some sort of magic you know to keep it going longer I’d love to know it.” The girl didn’t want to fuck it up. The man worked with wood. The last thing she wanted to do was waste it.

It did make her a little unsettled to hear the other part, though. “Um, and what do you mean exactly by not needing to interact? Like, you don’t want to see or hear from me?”

Harry paused, his gaze sharpening a little on the girl. He was used to being alone. He liked being alone. He didn’t want to come home to some sort of chatty roommate. “I mean exactly that.” He said gruffly.

“Oh.” She replied quietly, swallowing the lump on her throat. Her gaze averted when his sharpened on hers, looking towards her lap. He was a little intimidating and she felt embarrassed for some reason- but logically she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong. Didn’t mean her body knew that, though.

“O-Okay. I’ll make sure to give you your space.” Her head nodded, convincing herself it would be good for her. Maybe akin to rejection therapy. She had hoped for something a little different, but this was the escape she had needed- she couldn’t complain. “Can you tell me what kind of foods you like, or don’t, so I can make what you’ll eat?”

Harry grunted, his expression relaxing slightly at the mention of food. He hated being bothered with small talk, but food was something he could appreciate- it was part of her job, anyways. He could talk abojt that. “I like meat and potatoes. Steak, roast chicken, mashed potatoes, that sort of thing. Don’t bother with fancy shit. Just straightforward, hearty food.”

He paused, thinking for a moment before continuing. “And coffee. Black coffee. None of that fancy latte crap. Just straight up coffee.” He stood up, stretching his arms over his head. “That’s all you need to know for now. You can start preparing dinner and I’ll be back later.”

“Oh! I… are you sure?” She stood up too, following him. “Where should I put my things?” Part of her felt a little nervous she had fucked up with how fast he seemed to want to get out of there, but she didn’t know what she could have done to offend him. Was this just the way he was? Probably. She shouldn’t take it personally- but part of her did, just a bit. “I don’t know which room I should set my things up in.”

Harry turned around, his expression still stern. “You can set up in the spare room down the hall. It’s the first door on the right.” He pointed down the hallway before continuing. “I don’t need any help with my things. Just worry about your own shit for now.”

Her eyes fell down towards the floor, nodding at his words. It must just be the way he was, she concluded. He didn’t bother saying goodbye as she heard the door close, the ticking of the large grandfather clock in the den the only sound until the start of his pickup was muffled outside.

Who the hell was this man? And what had she gotten herself into?

[bluewolfangel01]

I feel uhhh so silllyy for requesting this but what if sheep mc snapped at like the brothers cuz there’s no way their 100+ year old asses are still acting like angsty teenagers (MC has a delusional joy moment😔😔😔)

It's okay, this is a very interesting request and I'm glad to do it 😁

I will specifically be writing Mc as a sheep like in the manga cause tiny pissed off sheep going off on tall and powerful demons is hilarious (sorry for the wait btw)

angy Mc is funny Mc and you can't change my mind

(I headcanon that the brothers sense their sin on Mc/you btw)

-Angy Mc-

Satan was the first one to sense something was up after a few minutes after his brothers and him started arguing

At first he wasn't sure what he was sensing, until he realized that he felt his sin, pure festering wrath

The worst part? He realized that it coming from Mc, who oddly enough was just sitting quietly on the couch, blankly staring at their phone in front of them

Satan went quite

Which caught the attention of the other brothers, who also turned their shouting at Satan, and even though Satan was very tempted to strick back at them, he held his tongue for once

Mc: "Can you all not fight, argue, or yell FOR ONE DAY?!"

It was at this point the brothers knew, they f#cked up (and went silent)

Mc: "Honestly, I know yall are brothers and demons so this kinda stuff is bound to happen but for Diavolo's sake this is getting ridiculous!"

Mc: *points hoof at Belphie* " Belphie. I know you're the avatar of sloth and therefore sleep a lot, but you can't solve all your problems and grief by sleeping the time away constantly, and the youngest brother brat thing doesn't always make you endearing!"

Mc: *points hoof at Beel* "Beel. I know you have survivors guilt but Lilith ended up living with humans like she wanted, Belphie doesn't need you standing up for him all the time, and you needn't continue to try to fill the hole inside you by eating in a restaurant that has no more food when you could just go down the street to another food place!"

Mc: *points hoof at Asmo* "Asmo. I know you ~get it on~ mainly to distract yourself from your troubles, to make yourself forget even just for a bit, sometimes but you can't push those feelings down forever, so actually talk with someone, anyone, about whats bothering you rather then trying ignore it! And stop hitting on your brothers, it's kinda weird!"

Mc: *points hoof at Satan* "Satan. I know you have an inferiority complex when it comes to Lucifer, but for the love of Diavolo, you wouldn't be called Satan, avatar of wrath, if you were like Lucifer in the first place. You have blonde hair and like cats, Lucifer has black grey-ish hair and likes dogs. AND THATS JUST THE START OF THE CONTRASTS! You are your own person, get that through your thick skull!"

Mc: *points hoof at Levi* "Levi. I know that it's easy to compare yourself to others and not at least feel somewhat bad about yourself but how do you not realize that you're the best tech wiz we got, an amazing gamer, and the most dedicated being I've ever seen in my life! So if you think that you're not good at something think again!"

Mc: *points hoof at Mammon* "Mammon. How in the whole Devildom is the Avatar of Greed almost always poor?! Also I know you are a material gorl, but items and things can't fully fill the void that you feel, so stop acting all emotionally constipated and just ask for affection if you want it!"

Mc: *points hoof at Lucifer* "And you Lucifer. I know you're the eldest and the prideful one, but there is such a thing as shouldering too much and being stubborn to a fault! Ask for help and for Diavolo to lessen your workload every once in a while! And stop not telling your brothers important things, rather then being all secretive to try to 'protect them' youre just hurting yourself and them cause of it!"

Silence was all that could be heard in the House of Lamentation, the brothers still as statues with varying amount of widened eyes, staring at the small being that they cherished that had just ripped into them so aggressively

After a minute ofa dead silent pause, Mc turned off their phone, hopped off the couch and started walking to the living room exit

Mc: "Honestly, I didn't expect to become a therapist for demons when coming here, and now I can't even read my enemies to lovers book in even somewhat peace.... I don't get paid enough for this."

They then disappeared from the brothers' sight, left to wrap their heads around what just happened

And the arguement that started it all? Who was going to make dinner that night

[shuenkio]

Naughty neighbor | Sim. J 😈

Paring: Stalker!Jake x male!reader

Genre: Smut, 18+ [don't like don't press]

Cw: cum inside, rough, dirty talk, swearing, obsession behavior, bad .

Summary: Your lovely neighbors who you thought of as a golden retriever but turn out he's a stalker.

Non proof read/ wc: 1.6k

Eng is not my 1st lang.

A|N: I accidentally wrote it smut oops | @ddeonuswhre special thanks to you for the idea 🐱💡hope you're having a great time pookie.

[Ignore my edit, it's suck]

Moving to another home, just because of your workplace, was exhausting. However, when one of your co-workers, who is also your friend, told you that this neighborhood was full of hot guys and friendly people, as a result, you immediately moved in without hesitation.

Not to mention, it's better to stay here for a while. The scenario, the weather—it was pretty good for your own mental health as an office siren. At least you can enjoy the view while stressing your brain off. By your own pure luck, you were able to get a month of vacation off since you're the best employee of the month and the summer season is approaching.

Your boss probably won a lottery ticket; that's why they don't care if you're still working. Nevertheless, beside your tiny, little house, there's a guy next to you.

He seems like a fun guy, to be honest, at first glance. His face shape screams so much that he's an Australian citizen. Well, maybe you're in Australia right now? His smile, however, always did something to you, even if it was a greeting gesture.

He looks gentle and kind; his aura exudes the energy of a golden retriever. From your point of view, whenever you saw him, he was kind to the other neighbors. And his name is Jake. Your friends didn't lie about what they'd said about this vicinity.

Unbeknownst to you, all the scenes you saw in him were just his fake acting. Jake did all those corny things just because he wanted to get the attention of you, whom he'd had eyes on ever since you moved in. He thought that, never in his life, he had seen such a person as you. You look really soft and sweet, like fresh vanilla in your aura.

You're also an adorable little guy who's brave enough to live by himself in a small place beside him like this. He always wants to take your virginity away from you.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow. Birds chirped softly, and the fresh scent of dew filled the air.

It's 8 a.m., and you're waking up to start off your day by watering your flower garden in front of your backyard.

As you hold your watering can, splashing wet on your beautiful plants, you see Jake is also in his front yard, while he's stretching from the back pain you're assuming.

Being the good neighbor you are, you greet him with a small talk, asking about this and that until you invite him for tea.. At first, Jake denied it, but you're insisted. Yet deep down, he had been waiting for this moment forever.

You then prepare for the table before serving him the tea that you had brought from your home town.

"So Jake? What are you doing for a living?" You said, putting down your cup as you focused on him.

"Not much of the higher-paying job; I'm just the owner of a small coffee shop down the road, and you?" He responded, taking a small sip as he clicked his tongue as a sign of taste.

"I'm working as a manager in the management of marketing; it's doing some justice for my life, but it's also burning keke." You reply with a sly smile along with your chuckle. I found it somehow funny that you're the manager now.

"You look like you're not an Australian m/n; I have never had time to ask about you this." Jake mutters, folding his fingers together, while observing your face while you're not paying attention.

"Yes, I'm not; I'm from ///, and I see it's rare to find my people here."

"That's why you look handsome; I mean it." Jake snorts in polite manners as you laugh along to hide your face. Which makes you want to stay here longer just to chitchat with Jake.

Suddenly, you heard your phone ring inside your house before you excused yourself to pick up the call. As perfect timing as he planned to, a dark smirk appeared on his face. As he puts something in your cup of tea, pick up the spoon on the table and mix it up. A few minutes later, you came back as you settled yourself in your seat again. You ask him if he's bored, but he says it's nothing.

The moment of silence suddenly awkward the scenes as you obliviously take a sip with your drink till your cup is empty.

Out of nowhere, you feel a pang inside your skull as you feel like there's a drum inside your brain. Keep hitting on you.

It's hurtful and dizzy at the same time. Aside from having a sudden headache, you also experience the hotness of sweat leaking out of your skin.

It's getting hot unexpectedly, as if you just got chased by a bear. Trying to hide your unstable condition, you stand up to get yourself a glass of water.

Due to the aphrodisiac kick, you fall down to the wooden floor. Jake still put on his mask as he expressed his concerns to you, asking if you're okay.

Before he pulls you up, taking you inside to your bedroom, he locks the door behind him. Jake put you down on your bed, gently, as he took off your socks and tucked away, according to your request.

"I'm so sorry, Jake, for the trouble. I don't know why I'm feeling so hot all at once" You mumble in your stuttering, low tone. Hot sweat is still dripping down on your forehead and everything. It feels weird, but that's not the only place that's hot.

You feel like your boxer is tightening from your hard dick. A scowl creased Jake's forehead, deepening the lines around his mouth. His brows furrowed, casting shadows over his eyes, filling them with excitement.

He couldn't wait any longer to show his true colors as your creepy stalker. Jake has had eyes on you ever since you're moving in; it's like a love at first sign to say, but it's in a sexual way.

At night, while you're asleep, he sneakily installs many hidden small cameras in every corner of your house, including the bathroom, the bedroom, the kitchen, and the living room. Every move he made got you wrapped around his finger.

There's no privacy for you to have your time, chilling in your bed thinking you're alone, but deep down, your golden retriever neighbors enjoy the views of your face every single day. Even when you're in the shower, Jake would be sitting in front of his computer, fantasizing about all the nasty things with you.

He masturbates and touches himself from time to time when he feels like working up or missing you. For now, the plan that he has been working on is finally taking shape. He won't let it slip away and lose this perfect opportunity to have you, screaming his name, ruining your virginity.

Nonetheless, Jake's eyebrows shot up in astonishment as you begged for him to help you.

"J-J...ake, please help me take this hotness away; I feel like I'm dying." You said it half-conscious, rubbing your hand on your chest, feeling like fuel was burning on the inside of you.

"Don't worry, ma'boy, I'm going to make you feel at ease once I do my magic." Jake leans down to your earlobe, whispering. Before he tears up your clothes, drop them to the floor as he begins to strip himself while kneeling on your bed.

His cock was spring-free, standing so proud as he exposed his naked self in front of you. You were so fuck up that you want nothing but to erase those fires in your body; your body language is inviting him itself at this point.

"I won't stop just so you know, m/n, I'm going to make you can't walk once I'm inside—I'm going to fuck the life out of you till you beg for it, my dearest." The next thing you know, you feel a huge meat enter your entrance, spreading you in an instant without him warning you.

Results in a sign of pleasure, leaving your mouth open. A shockwave was sent to Jake's body, and he grunted loudly at the sensation. Making him buck up his hip, craving more pleasure. Before thrusting his cock in, as deep as he can at his first attempt.

"Holy, fucking shit, m/n, you feel like heaven, nrghh, let me have you more." Jake moans desperately, biting his plump lip to take pleasure once again. His cock continues to throb inside of you; your walls are clenching on him so tight that his hips are moving in and out unstoppably, fucking you roughly as a response to your body language.

"Jake, I think I'm going to squirt, ahh."

"Why not m/n~ *moaning* shot on me? I don't fucking care if it's dirty; just let me fuck you." Jake is shouting loudly at your statement, leaning down his lip to capture you, pulling you into a French kiss as his hip is still moving inside you.

"Let me fill you in, yeah? I think I'm coming. *huff huff* You let me hah?" Jake said in demand, and his orgasm started to build inside of him. You got the best of yourself, unable to decline his request as you braced yourself to welcome his request.

"ERG" Last but not least, Jake felt his cock twitching, growing hard as a metal between your stretching wall, as he exploding in your anal, filling you with his big load of a warm oragsm. In unison, you're also cumming to his sensation of him, hitting your sweet spot at the final thrust, which makes you shoot out uncontrollably.

Jake collapsed on your body, being too sensitive to the shockwave he had experienced earlier. Stop moving his hip as he sucking for oxygen sharply.

"T... thanks you, Jake; I feel a little better."

"We can do this all day, 7 days a week, to make you feel better every day, ma boy, haha. For now, let's consider our relationship  together."

"How about fuck, buddy?"

"No, I want all of you M/N" 

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ I know there's indeed a mistake in this, sorry in advance 🫶. Improve how to write better.

I REPEAT THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, NOTHING IS REFLECT TO THE REAL LIFE EVENT.

[moon-ttokki-x]

stupidly perfect - (best friend!bang chan x reader) part 4

pairing: best friend!bang chan x reader

summary: the aftermath of the fight, as well as another disaster, unexpectedly brings you and chan together .

genre: idol!au, mentions of eating, drinking, mentions of injuries, medical supplies and processes, mentions of self-neglect (chan forgets to use chapstick lmao), my poor minho :( , jisung chews his nails . . . bad quokka !! if i forgot anything (i probably did), comment and i'll add <3

a/n: part 4 everyone cheer !! gonna make a masterlist soon (lie) !! div by @ferretmilkshakezzz

skz masterlist | skz prompt list | part one | part two | part three

Chan walks home in the rain.

It's still thundering down like the skies have opened up, and the sensible part of him tells him to go back to your place and apologise, reason with you. Smooth a bandaid over your wounds, stroke a hand down your shoulders, make it all better like he has so many times before.

But he doesn't.

He keeps walking with his head down, the rain dripping off the slick strands of his hair, dripping into his eyes and falling unpleasantly down the front of his shirt, though it's already soaked beyond repair. It's freezing; so unbelievably cold that his skin is beginning to ache all over. The rain drives into his skin like a thousand tiny needles made of ice.

He grits his teeth and keeps walking. Time passes by in a shower of darkness and wet misery, and before he knows it, he's back at the dorm, shivering on the doorstep as he waits for Jeongin to open the door. His hands fly to his biceps and he stamps his feet, shivering and chattering as the door opens.

"Hyung?" Jeongin says, peeking around the door. He looks so cosy; oversized hoodie and sweats carrying the lingering scent of an evening hot drink. "What- You're soaking! Did you change your clothes...?"

Chan nods and steps inside, exhaling a puff of almost frozen air from his lungs. Jeongin disappears down the hallway in a whirl, presumably to fetch a towel, and Chan bites his lip harshly as he takes in the sudden sereness of his surroundings.

It should be no surprise; he lives here. But the way everything is set out, the placement of the furniture and little items on the shelves coupled with the rich scent of cocoa and soft blankets suddenly makes him shiver in a way he can't explain. And he knows it's not from the cold or the clammy wetness slicking his body.

He shouldn't be in here.

He should be outside, in the rain, in the cold, shivering and curling in on himself in the dark street. He should be out there, so blinded by the mist and the fog that he has no idea which way is where.

Because he deserves that. Not least because he literally blew up in his best friend's face and stormed out of their house.

Along with a few other things, he thinks bitterly.

"Here," Jeongin says suddenly, thrusting two towels in his face. Chan takes them and his younger member stands by worriedly, fluttering around like he's not quite sure what to do. "What happened?"

Chan just shakes his head, flinging drops of water like crystals from his hair. Turning, he slips off his waterlogged shoes, toes off his socks, and then trails down the hallway like a phantom. Albeit a very wet one at that.

Jeongin stares after him in utter confusion.

.

Chan hisses as the hot water hits his skin.

It's a welcome change from the wet cold he was drenched in earlier, but it feels strange, the difference in temperature. Like pouring boiling water over frozen bones, they don't immediately thaw.

His temper does, though.

Groaning, he leans his head on the tiled wall of the shower; it's steamy from the condensation, as are the glass walls. His hand comes up to lightly tug at his hair, trying to remove the waterlogged feel of it. Like he can just rinse it all off.

Resting his forearm on the tiled wall, he sighs and turns the shower temperature a little hotter. He's been standing under the stream for who knows how long, but he can't quite bring himself to reach for the handle and turn the water off. Not yet.

His forearm slips against the tiles and knocks unpleasantly against his chest, almost knocking the breath out of his lungs. Standing up abruptly, his vision is blinded by the hot stream of water and he hisses before slapping the handle. The water jet turns off and he rubs at his eyes with a wet fist before sighing and stepping out.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he steps out of the bathroom and jolts.

Hyunjin is sitting calmly on the bed; his long, elegant form is swathed in a dark hoodie and a pair of basketball shorts. He doesn't look cold despite the weather outside; though inside the dorm, warmth hangs in the air like a thick woollen blanket.

Stumbling and fetching up against the bathroom doorframe, Chan hisses before tossing a can of deodorant at his friend from the dresser. It hits his knee with a metallic clang before rolling under the bed. Hyunjin stares after it with a look of mildly piqued interest.

"Didn't know we were throwing aerosols to deal with our problems now," he remarks dryly before gesturing to the bathroom. "You took a while in there."

Chan huffs and sits down on the bed, feeling a lingering drop of water slide down his spine as he leans over, elbows on knees. "I wouldn't have taken as long if I knew you'd be here. Did Jeongin let you in?"

"No," Hyunjin says sarcastically. "I climbed seven stories and then broke in through the window."

One hand meets the bridge of Chan's nose, rubbing to ease the tired tension set between his brows. "Minho's humour is rubbing off on you."

"Minho-hyung wouldn't have done what you did."

Chan scoffs and moves to the dresser, slipping off the towel and replacing it with a pair of sweats, a tank, and a hoodie, all black. Hyunjin turns his back without being told, sighing as he twists his ring around his long, knobby fingers.

Feeling the weight of his friend on the mattress next to him, Hyunjin turns back and is met with Chan sprawled out on the mattress, rather like a fish after the tide has gone out. He's left flapping and dying on the sand.

"I'm guessing Y/n told you what happened," Chan says, his tone dead and tired.

"She called me crying, saying that you exploded at her and then left."

"Yep. You idiot."

Chan makes a strangled noise, throwing his hands up in the air and then letting them collapse by his sides. They bounce against the mattress. "I- That wasn't how it was supposed to go."

Hyunjin tilts his head. "She also got pissed at me because I let you use my phone to text her. So..." He lies down next to Chan, nestling in the duvet underneath him. "We're both in the wrong."

Closing his eyes, Chan rolls onto his side and regards his friend with a cool, stony stare. "You haven't said anything, have you?"

"About what?"

A pointed glance.

Hyunjin scoffs and looks up at the ceiling. "No. But I think you should."

"I can't. She hates me. Even more, if that's humanly possible. It'll just make this mess worse."

"Then at least apologise to her, hyung."

Chan sighs; a deep, weary exhale betraying the depth of his exhaustion. "Fine. Just- I need time to think."

Hyunjin nods. "I'm sure she does as well. For now, rest, and try to avoid getting sick. We have a lot to do in the next few weeks." He puts a hand on his friend's shoulder as he sits up. "Go and eat something, and then sleep. Let's put this mess aside for now and clear our minds. Everything will be fine."

"Do you think so?"

Hyunjin grins. "I know so. Now quick, go and eat something before Jeongin scoffs the whole pantry."

.

Chan can't focus.

Not on his schedules, or his training, or his dancing or singing or socialising or any other one of the multitude of roles he's somehow picked up along the way of being the leader of Stray Kids.

He wakes up. He sleepwalks his way through dance and vocal practices, half-asses his production work, does a photoshoot or an interview which he can't find it in himself to care about, does some more practice, and then crashes into bed.

Today is no different.

"Jisung, like this," Minho pushes his younger member's arms into the right position for the choreography, demonstrating the step. "Make sure you pop your chest before moving here- And then like this, see?"

"I don't get it."

Minho groans playfully, tugging lightly on Jisung's hair before moving to correct Seungmin's position. "Chan-hyung will show you."

Jisung looks across at his leader, who is standing half-dazed in the middle of the floor, clearly not up to the task. Which is unusual, along with the fact that he hasn't bothered to wrangle the rest of the kids into practicing like normal.

Hyunjin and Jeongin are fighting in the corner, and Changbin is on the floor on his phone. The rest of the members whine and complain, halfheartedly dancing, and Minho rubs a finger across his temple as his gaze follows Jisung's.

"Okay, fine," he sighs. "Just work on the first part. Seungmin, go do it with him."

Both members trail to the back of the room, beginning to run through the choreo again. Minho stalks up to his leader and tugs lightly on the stiff brim of his cap.

"Hyung," he says firmly. "I know you're tired, but we have a lot to do. Just this practice, then we can take a break tomorrow. But you have to help me out, okay?" He gestures to the chaotic mess of members around the room. "They only listen to you, and you're standing here like a ghost. Help me."

Chan is silent.

"Hyung," Minho says insistently, peering into his leader's face. "Help me."

No answer.

Minho sighs, turning away and feeling rather crestfallen as he begins the first line of choreography again. There's a strange feeling bubbling in his stomach, one that's unpleasant and rather reminds of when he was younger, being told off for breaking something or getting into a scuffle.

It's not like Chan to brush him off.

He didn't really brush me off, Minho thinks. Just kind of- Ignored me. I wonder if something's wrong. I heard Hyunjin saying he went to go talk to Y/n... Maybe they fought. Ah, this isn't ideal... We have a comeback soon.

How am I supposed to keep everyone in line? Chan-hyung won't do it.. Maybe he's upset with me, too. Maybe I should be doing better. I'll come back and practice tonight.

"Minho-hyung, we did the first part." Seungmin emerges from behind him, rolling up his sleeves. Jisung nods dutifully next to him. "How do you do the switch part where we move? Because I go forward to centre but Jisung-hyung and I have to move around each other..."

Minho racks his brain for the choreography. He knows this. He knows every step, every turn, every switch. He could do it in his sleep.

But suddenly, he can't remember.

Panic rises in his gut like bile creeping up his throat. He clears it awkwardly and clenches his fists as he desperately attempts to recall the steps. His vision blurs and he fiercely wills the unexpected emotion away.

"Take a break," he says, strained, cheeks pink in embarrassment. I don't want to be upset in front of them. "We'll do the next part tomorrow. I don't think we're going to get much done today anyway."

Seungmin and Jisung share a strange look before nodding quietly and wandering off.

Minho bites his lip as he watches them go. A sharp tang erupts in his mouth and he whimpers suddenly, tasting blood.

A pathetic feeling settles on his shoulders before it's overtaken by a wave of anger and frustration. His gaze flickers to Chan. He's still standing in the middle of the floor. Dead to the world.

Minho's gaze is afresh with determination.

I'm going to do better, hyung.

.

There's a knock on the door.

"Come in," Chan calls wearily. He's been sitting slumped against the desk, flicking a pen with his finger. It rolls up, then down, then falls to the floor as Hyunjin steps into the room.

He closes the door quietly, hovering in the doorway.

Chan doesn't look up; he doesn't need to. He's known his members long enough to recognise whose footsteps are whose, and he sighs and picks up the pen before turning to regard Hyunjin with a tired gaze.

"You again," he says, though there's no maliciousness behind it. "It's late."

"Hey," Hyunjin replies quietly. "I know. Can we talk?"

Chan gestures to the small leather couch behind his chair. Hyunjin sits and shifts uncomfortably. Clearly it's taken a lot of courage for him to appear at the studio, and his hands twist around each other in his lap.

"So," Hyunjin begins awkwardly.

"I haven't told her, if that's what you're wondering," Chan says calmly. He feels anything but.

Hyunjin doesn't look up, but the slight set of tension in his shoulders relaxes slightly. A puff of air escapes his lips. "I don't know if I should tell her. It feels wrong."

"It isn't wrong," Chan reasons.

"It is, kind of. Knowing that all this time..." He trails off, clearly guilty. "I just don't know when the right time is. Especially because you two fought."

"We didn't fight," Chan groans. "I just- I wanted to tell her so badly, but after the restaurant, I didn't know how to process things, and once I found out about this..." He gestures vaguely. "It was just so frustrating to not be able to tell her the truth."

"You need to, Chan."

"I know-"

"No," Hyunjin says firmly. "You need to really tell her. Sit her down when she isn't busy, apologise, and explain everything. Like we talked about last night. She deserves to know that much at least. It'll be good for you too."

Chan tugs off his cap. "What do you mean, good for me?"

"Hyung, you've been running on nothing but fumes since you stormed out of Y/n's place that night. You haven't been able to focus on anything, and we're falling behind. The comeback is soon."

"I know, I know," Chan sighs, slumping in his chair. "It just seems selfish to tell her how I feel, considering..."

The studio falls silent. Hyunjin stares at his friend with a look of empathy, though it's tinged with sadness in the dim light of the room. "You really do love her, don't you?"

Chan nods sincerely. "I know someone else does too. That's why I held back... It was so frustrating, Hyunjin. You have no idea..."

Hyunjin has the grace to look sheepish, running a hand over his dark buzzed hair. "Do they know that you know? The other person who likes her..."

"I don't think so."

Hyunjin leans forward, tugging curiously at the neckline of his shirt. "Do you know who it is?"

He nods again, leaning closer and lowering his voice. "It's-"

"Chan-hyung!" Jisung throws open the studio door, red-faced and breathless. "Come quick!"

Chan stands up immediately, Hyunjin following. His brow furrows in concern. "Jisung, calm down. What's wrong?"

Jisung's eyes widen fractionally in panic. "Minho-hyung is hurt."

.

He was just trying to practice.

One late-night dance practice wouldn't hurt, right? It would do him so good, help him clean up his moves before the rest of the members came to their senses and realised that he isn't competent enough to be teaching the group choreography.

Great work, Minho. Absolutely fantastic.

Now he sits in the middle of the dance studio floor, cradling his ankle between white-knuckled hands. The rest of the members flutter around him, along with some of the medical staff, and the door flies open once more as Hyunjin and Chan stride in, faces set in worry. Jisung follows, chewing anxiously at his nails.

"Minho," Chan says, kneeling by his side. He exhales sharply as his fingers lightly touch his shin, inspecting the damage. "What happened?"

"I'm fine." He fights a grimace.

"What happened?" Chan's voice is stern, strained with worry. He has every right to be; Minho's ankle is swollen and red, already bruising, but he feels a sharp pang of sadness at his leader's tone. And it somehow seems to hurt more than the injury itself, even if just for a moment.

He seals his mouth shut, pressing his lips together, and looks away.

"He was doing a late-night practice of the choreo," Jisung explains, moving to put an arm around Jeongin and Felix. "We came in a little later because I forgot my phone, and he was on the floor."

"He must have fallen doing the dance break," Jeongin says quietly, meekly nestling into Jisung's side.

Minho interjects with a sharp cry of pain as one of the staff members presses ice to the joint. It stings and aches and feels a little better all at the same time. His throat bobs, swallowing thickly, and a bead of sweat blooms a damp, circular patch on the cotton of his shirt.

Chan goes tense and calls out several instructions to the staff, his previous misery clearly forgotten. Turning back to Minho, his eyes flit all over his body, worriedly checking for any other injury. "You shouldn't have been up this late. And alone, too; you know bad things happen this way."

Minho flinches at his sharp tone. "Hyung-"

"No, Minho," Chan says firmly. "Promise you won't do it again. And tell me why you did it in the first place; it's not like you to be up so late to begin with-"

"I was trying to make you happy, hyung," he interrupts miserably, biting his lip.

The members fall silent, and the staff members bustling around with medical supplies and phone calls have the good grace to do the same.

"What?" Chan's tone is disbelieving.

"You were so down, so upset, and I thought it was because of Y/n, but I tried talking to you earlier during practice and you brushed me off, and it felt so hurtful, and I just wanted to do better, hyung," Minho cries, words tumbling out of his mouth. "I thought it would help- I wanted you to be proud of me..."

Chan presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. It ends in more of a sigh, and he crouches closer to the younger member, reaching up to brush a strand of slick hair out of his face. "I am proud of you. I always have been, no matter what you do or achieve. And I want you to know that I'm sorry, Minho," he stands up. "Everyone. I'm truly sorry. I've been so lost in my head and I forgot what matters to me. I'm going to fix this, I promise."

"Fix his ankle first, hyung," Jeongin chides him bravely, clearly fed up. "Apologise later."

The rest of the members groan and agree, and even Minho fights back a familiar smirk, grimacing as one of the staff adjusts him gently.

Chan lets a grin crack his mouth, the first real bubble of happiness rising up in him, even though it's small. It feels strangely good to be told off, snapped back into his senses.

He adjusts his dark cap on his head. "Right."

.

"Hey, Minho."

He looks up from the mess of blankets and cushions swaddling his figure on the couch. Blinks once, and then shuffles upwards to peek out at you with curious, catlike eyes.

"Y/n."

Grinning, you shut the door quietly and step into the dorm, pocketing your spare key. Toeing off your shoes, you place them neatly by the rack and then move over to where Minho is on the couch. "I bet you didn't hear me, hmm?"

He shakes his head rather shyly, clearly pleased to see you. He picks up the remote and pauses the show he's been watching. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Min," you say gently, placing a bag on the table and carefully bringing out a box. "I bet your stomach missed me too... I brought donuts."

You don't even get to finish your sentence before Minho dives into the box. Laughing, you stand up and pet his soft, messy hair before moving to the counter and placing a tote bag on the marble. "Leave some for Jisung. I'll get him to drop this stuff off too..."

Minho looks up, licking sugar and cinnamon from his fingers. "What's in that bag?"

"Chan's clothes," you say quietly. "He forgot them when he came to see me."

There's a silent moment of understanding where you move back to the couch and Minho dusts the remaining sugar off his hands. But it doesn't feel awkward like you were afraid it would.

You clear your throat. "How's your ankle?"

He sighs and closes the donut box, lifting his ankle from the couch. It's wrapped in a soft, white bandage, and you can still see some of the bruising peeking out like rose petals. He turns it side to side, inspecting. "It's better. I'm still not allowed to dance, though. Two more weeks."

You touch his knee. "I know it's hard not being able to dance, Min. Good on you for resting, though... I was convinced they'd have to tie you up- Ow."

He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he lightly pinches your arm. "Not funny. It sucks being stuck here all day."

You sigh and lean back against the couch. "Surely they'd let you come down and watch the practices, at least."

Minho shakes his head. "No. I'd just get tempted to try and get up. It's better this way."

You nod. "I see."

"You know," he continues quietly, "I missed you."

"I know, Min-"

"No," he interrupts. "Not just because of this," he gestures to his ankle. "I missed you when we went out with the guys and the dance crew girls. When we used to leave the company at 3 am to get snacks. I missed you hanging around us. I was upset about it for a while before I realised there was something going on with you and Chan."

"I ruined everything," you sigh. "If I hadn't burst out that night at the restaurant, none of this would have happened."

"And then you would have gone years without getting a chance to tell him how you feel," Minho says reasonably without missing a beat. "Better now than later, where things will be more complicated."

"Things are already complicated."

"Even so, it's better to do it now," he says earnestly. "At least you don't have to waste time pretending you don't love him. The feelings are out, Y/n; now you and Chan just have to work them out. And there's no reason you can't do it together. Like you both always have."

You're quiet, and before you can open your mouth to reply to his unexpectedly reassuring statement, the door opens.

Changbin and Jisung enter the dorm, clattering and bickering about a reworked lyric of the upcoming album's title track. Felix follows, laughing and attempting to stop the argument, finishing off the remains of a coffee. They stop mid-argument, gazes locking with yours, and both fall silent. Someone else steps into the dorm, shutting the door and pulling a dark cap off his head.

"So," Minho says uncomfortably, "I might have forgotten to tell you 3RACHA and Felix were coming over tonight..."

"Minho." You hiss at him.

"Sorry, sorry, it slipped my mind... Injuries and all..."

You filter his excuses out and stand, brushing yourself off. "Hey."

"Hey," Changbin, Felix, and Jisung all awkwardly reply in unison.

Chan turns around in surprise, tugging out his earphones. Clearly he wasn't expecting to see you standing in the middle of the room, and you see his throat bob before he stuffs the headphone cord in the pocket of his hoodie, wary.

No one moves.

You take the first step and pick up your bag, nodding a goodbye to Minho before you move past the couch. "I'll, um- I'm going now. See you later. Feel better, Min."

You fly out the door, fumbling to pull it shut behind yourself. Chan hasn't moved as you went past him, and the scent of his musky, faded cologne follows you in wisps as you head down the corridor with hasty steps.

Shit, you whine inwardly, pressing a hand to your hot cheeks. That was so awkward. Talk about bad timing.

You turn to the left and walk down the corridor before turning to go down the steps to the main floor, focused on leaving as quickly as possible in your embarrassment. In your haste, you miss a step and your stomach swoops unpleasantly downward as you trip.

Time freezes.

Gasping, you open your eyes, and look down at the staircase below. One foot hovers in the air, the other at such an angle behind you that you can't possibly understand how you aren't falling.

Someone pulls you back and you flail, only now feeling the strong, warm grip of a hand on your wrist. Both hands meet a solid chest as you're pulled back to face whoever it is that caught you.

Chan gazes down at you, expression unreadable.

He has total power over you right now; if he lets go, you'll tumble down the stairs. There's a small half of his expression that rather makes him look like he wants to do it.

But the other half...

"Chan," you whisper.

"Planning to break your ankle like Minho?" He doesn't smile, his arms warm and steady around your waist. You're on your tiptoes, body pressed against his as you attempt to balance, but it's impossible without him. "You didn't have to leave."

"I-" You gulp. "I had plans."

"Liar," he says without hesitating. "With who?"

Silence.

Your heart pounds in your chest, smacking against your ribs like a wild, caged animal trying to escape. You look away, giving up without bothering to defend yourself, and Chan exhales.

"Could've just let me fall," you say suddenly, tone bitter. It bubbles out of you unexpectedly like fizz from a shaken can of lemonade.

He blinks, dark eyes regarding you with a calm gaze. He doesn't look as nervous as you thought he would. "Why would I do that?"

You scoff quietly and look away.

"I do care, you know," he says, his voice quiet. One hand comes up to gently brush away a strand of your hair. "Just in case you forgot."

For a moment, everything feels right; the brush of his calloused fingertips, the warmth between you; it's like it was before. Calm and comforting and familiar and Chan.

Before.

Part of you wants to break away from the touch, toss your head and shoo him away. But you don't. You let his hand gently move to touch your cheek, skating down the textured, smooth surface of your skin, caressing the curve of your jaw.

You don't pull away when his breath fans over you, stirring your hair in a faint wave, smelling of mint and coffee and something unmistakeably sweet.

You don't push him back when he lifts you gently, just enough to have your toes touching the ground, and steps back to the top of the landing, carrying you as if you were a doll.

You don't scoff at him when he lets a hand fall to the small of your back, guiding you closer, his touch magnetic and sweet and wildly addicting and so, so warm.

Like the Chan you know. The before Chan. The best friend Chan.

The one who always brought you little flowers when you were both younger to make you smile.

The one who excitedly sang and played his guitar for you on cool summer evenings.

The one who held your hand when you crossed a busy street.

The one who seamlessly included you into a group of friends without trying, because he knew it'd ease your worries of being alone when you first moved to Seoul.

The one, who right now, is gently pressing his mouth to yours in a hesitant, almost dazed action of searing contact, pulling away slightly. As if he's afraid.

Without thinking, you let him tug you gently closer, and one hand meets his collar, softly pulling him in. You didn't even notice when your mouths met.

You feel dizzy.

His lips are chapped; you pinch him lightly on the shoulder, chiding him for the self-neglect, and he chuckles against your mouth. He knows what you're saying.

He always does and he always has.

He barely has time to murmur your name in a blurry, heated whisper before the unmistakeable clatter of footsteps down the hallway makes you both pull back, panting.

Blinking, you and Chan stare down the hallway, fighting to rejoin reality, clinging to each other as your grip tightens on his shoulders.

Your mouth goes dry.

Felix stares brokenly from the end the corridor.

a/n: i hope the wait was worth it . . . nyeheheheheh !!

ttokki's taglist: @emilywhyyy @galaxy4489 @hyuneskkami @justsomekpopstuff @wavetohannie @strayingawayy @its-stayville-forever @batty-barty-crouchjr @wickedbutlovely @headfirstfortoro @lov3yv4mps @possum-playground @bear8585 @astraystayyh @m-325 @gnabnahcbby @mbioooo0000 @akindaflora @tsunderelino @hhwangsmoon @crazyforthatbangchandude @bluebellsringinghereandthere @ladylexis @tillaboo

send a dm, comment under the taglist post, or send an ask to be added !

[nuhuhwinniethepooh]

For Better or For Worse

Tags : Dark content, Baby trapping, Fluff, Angst, Delving into Gojo's childhood, Yan!tendency, Gojo x Reader, Captivity, Lovesick Gojo

A/N : Couldn't hold back my laughter while writing this (P.S. it was the evil kind)

WC : 3k

____________________________________________________

Satoru is nothing like his father.

Why? Well to start it off with, Satoru's love story isn't quite as renowned as his parents love story. The head of the Gojo clan falling in love with a woman from it's smaller branch, a forbidden love story made possible. Sounds romantic, doesn't it? It's not. Behind the rose-tinted background and the dreamy sighs of onlookers, lies the dark obsession of it all.

Satoru knows that his mother was in love with someone else, Satoru knows that his father didn't care, didn't bother himself with the fact that she was already engaged to another man, already promised to the love of her life. What he did bother with was the dissolution of her engagement, forcing himself on her to bind her freedom, her branch and herself to him. No one cared, her family didn't to say the least, everyone was so delighted to have formed a bond with the main branch of the Gojo clan, to the head of the branch that all regards for her flew out the window.

With the birth of Gojo Satoru soon after, her fate was sealed. What marriage couldn't do, a child did. Her dreams of escaping all but gone, afterall no mother could ever leave her child in the very place that plagued her nightmares and selfishly run off. Besides, running off with Satoru would make her a target of all the 3 great clans- some only interested in snuffing out the heir and holder of the Gojo clan's innate technique whereas running off without him would eat her inside out.

Forget the fact that she was a mother and bearer of Gojo Satoru himself, her husband would've never let her run off. The ring on her finger was but a leash to tie her down and Satoru was but another means for it, lucky him. Lady luck only seemed to favor the most twisted of minds. It started out small, really. So small that it was barely noticeable and by the time anyone realized, it was already too late.

Forcefully cutting off all contacts with her family was as easy as snapping a branch in half, as easy as easy comes by. Then came the isolation, isolating her from the general public, isolating her from the people of the main house until she was fully restricted to the northernmost corner of the house with only two servants besides her, a mockery of the freedom she craved. She was offered everything, given everything she'd ever want but what use is it if it's not what she needs?

Her only connection to the outside world? A husband she loathed and her sweet, sweet son. Her little boy that looked nothing like his father- a small mercy in disguise. Her beautiful boy who she was banned from seeing if she misbehaved ever so slightly, her adorable baby boy being the only thing that kept her sanity in check, the only thing that stopped her from throwing a middle finger up to her husband's face and removing herself from the land of the living. Her baby boy whom she loves so much that she grits her teeth and steels her nerves to please her despised captor of a husband, to murmur sweet nothings in his ear and coddle him like he wants, in hopes for seeing her baby the next day and the next day she does, her beautiful son excitedly running towards her on the gravel path delighted her, made her day just by looking at him, bending to pick him up and press kisses all over his pale tiny face.

Satoru might've been young but he wasn't naive, far from it, he notices the way his mother holds him tighter in the presence of his father. He notices the way her lips form into a tight smile when his father presses a kiss on her cheeks before excusing himself, he notices the way she relaxes when his father is out of sight, pulling Satoru closer as she coos sweet words at him. Softly brushing his hair back and giggling at his words with a softness he can't quite put his finger on, he wishes he could play her laughter on repeat, Satoru's favorite past time might be walking hand-in-hand with his mother in the empty northern courtyard, talking about everything and anything that comes to his mind as she listens, she listens to him talk like the words pouring out of his mouth was the very secrets of the universe instead of his boring everyday life. Satoru likes it, he likes being listened to, he likes being normal, he likes being treated as a child and above all, he likes his mother for doing so.

The world may have shifted from Satoru's birth alone but for her, all Satoru ever was and ever will be was her child. Her baby boy, her little treasure and her reason to live.

One could only guess how devastated Satoru must've been when he finds out his mother collapsed during one of the so-called ban imposed on her because of her misbehavior or so the servants says with hushed voices. He glares at them disapprovingly, heads bowed down and lips pursed into a thin line, murmurs of apology pours out swiftly before they excuse themselves and exit just as quickly.

He clenches his tiny fists, silently praying to every God he knows as he makes his way quietly towards his mother's room. Taking in a deep breathe and walking in, only to see her sitting up on her futon with his father besides her, holding onto her hand as if for dear life as she looks out to the garden with furrowed brows- ignoring father, Satoru notes. Neither of them aware of his presence yet.

"Mam- Mother?" Her head snaps towards Satoru, face softening immediately as she holds her arms out before pausing, throwing a quick glance at the hand held by her husband. A sign to let go. He doesn't relent, squeezing it just a little tighter. She frowns again, rolling her eyes slightly. Placing her attention towards Satoru again, she holds her free arm out for him "Satoru, come here" her voice is sweet, soft, loving, weak. Satoru is already moving, already making his way to her arm and burying his face in the crook of her neck like he always does, breathing in her comforting scent- now mixed with the horrible scent of herbs, of sickness and of death, he scrunches his nose, pulling away to look up at his mother.

She's looking down at him, wrapping her yukata-draped arm around him with a small smile, pressing a light kiss on his forehead "My baby" she whispers, breathing in weakly. "Mama" he sniffles ever so softly, hands curling over her clothes as he buries his head against her chest. She chuckles lightly, weakly, the sound was so comforting. A complete juxtaposition to her condition.

"I need you to be strong, the strongest in fact. You can do that for me, can't you?" She whispers, pulling him closer to her. He nods. She smiles, patting his back. "Mama loves you, you know that right?" She hums softly, leaning her cheek ontop of his head. He nods again "I love you too, mama"

"I love you more, Satoru. So do me a favor, okay? You can do mama a favor right?"

Satoru tilts his head up, expecting to see a smile like always. He's disappointed, there's a serious look on her face. She always smiled at him, always as in ever since he could remember, saving the frowns and looks of distaste for his father- Satoru nods, looking at her just as seriously as she was. She bends down and presses a quick kiss on his forehead, a chill quickly running down his spine- instinctively knowing that this'll be the last time she'll kiss him. Dead or Alive.

"Never turn into a monster like your father."

Silence. Silence broken down by his father's voice, yelling for the servants to drag away Satoru. His mother yells too, Satoru's not quite sure what as the servants make quick work with him, hurriedly dragging him away from the them. Turning his head back to catch a quick glimpse of his mother's figure looming over his father's seated one. It's funny how mother only seemed be her strongest during her weakest state- she huffs angrily, turning her head away in anger before catching sight of Satoru, hurriedly flashing a sad smile that quickly vanishes as the door slams shut and he's forced to take a turn. Her room completely and utterly out of view, along with his mother.

Satoru sees her again the next week but in an entirely different setting than he hoped it to be. Quietly making his way up to his mother's pale, lifeless figure, he looks at his father besides her. All life in his sunken eyes seemingly gone as he mindlessly stares at her, "Mother would've loved to see him this way" he thinks apathetically to himself, kneeling down and brushing her hair back like she always did his as he presses a gentle kiss on her forehead, like she always did his.

"I promise"

He sees his father glance at him momentarily, Satoru steels himself, waiting for him to say something berating maybe then he could berate back, yell and scream back at him but his father says nothing. He doesn't care, more like he can't care to say anything. "Pathetic" Satoru sneers internally, standing up and walking out, his mother listened to him like the very secrets of the universe poured out of his mouth so he'll do the same, what goes around comes around. Right?

Gojo Satoru was only 5 and nothing like his father.

°

Then he met Suguru. Strong and relentless with sass and bangs so profound he couldn't help but let hi- You, you're perfect. Watching you sit besides the new first-years, everything else fades away the minute his eyes makes contact with yours. Your words, your soft gentle voice echoing in the room as you introduce yourself hits him like a sledgehammer, it hits him like a semi-truck crashing full speed into him. Satoru's sure he'd survive the crash but surviving you? He doubts there'd be anything left of him by the end of it all.

His knees goes weak as he watches you hold your hand out to him with a pretty little smile, throwing on his usual smirk, he grabs it and oh- your touch, it burns. Your fingertips brands itself against his palm so deliciously warm that he can't help but squeeze just a little bit tighter, trying to hold on to you for a little while longer before you're pulling it away with a grin and you're speaking but he hardly hears you, so distracted with the lack of warmth, the lack of your hands in his.

"What?" He croaks out, ignoring the side-eye he's receiving from Suguru and Shoko besides him at his unusual demeanor. "It's nice to meet you" you repeat simply, eyes closed as you chuckle softly and oh God, Satoru feels his heart thumping against his chest so wildly that all he can do is hope that you can't hear it, Suguru or Shoko least of all lest he wants to make it the running joke for his entire life. Satoru says something but he doesn't know what, his mind and his mouth two separate entities as he watches you laugh again, he wishes he could record it and play it over and over again. By the time he's aware of what's happening, it's already night and the water is burning his skin, hurriedly switching off the shower overhead he stumbles back, palms pressing against the cool tiled wall, his skin tingling with the heat. It's an uncomfortable heat, one that he doesn't like at all, he'd much prefer the burn of your skin against his, molded perfectly against his-

°

"You're staring again" Shoko drawls out amusedly, nudging Satoru in the ribs as the pair watches you converse with your blond classmate, Nanami, he notes. Your laughter fills the empty distance and before you know it, there's a familiar arm weighing down your shoulder "Hi Gojo" you say without missing a beat, not bothering to look up at the albino draping himself all over you as you drone on about your latest mission to an indifferent Nanami.

"Sorry 'bout him, girlie" Shoko interrupts, grabbing Satoru by the collar and prying him off of you, he let's go with a pathetic whine. You brush it off with a smile, it's okay and I don't mind falling out your lips but it falls on deaf ears as she starts dragging him away. "Give the poor girl some space, Gojo. It hasn't even been 2 months and you're already clinging into her" Shoko berates, shaking her head and praying for Suguru to come back quickly; she doubts she has much patience left for the pouting man-child she's dragging.

Gojo was nothing like his father, what he was was a clingy fool, an annoying one too.

°

"Oh my- what happened?" You rush towards Shoko, eyeing her two classmates sitting quietly in the infirmary. She shakes her head and you know better to ask so you settle down, observing the two, Satoru looks fine...well fine except for the eerie glow in his eyes while Suguru looked like the complete opposite, his eyes was dark and dank, similar to light slowly being sucked out into a blackhole. You can't help but feel a cold dread settling low in your stomach, wrong. Everything is gonna go wrong. And wrong it went, muffled sobs wrecks your body as you crumple to the floor, hands helplessy clutching onto Nanami's blazer as he silently holds onto you and buries your face in his chest. Forcing you to look away from the scene in front of you but you don't relent, turning your head back just a little .

Catching sight of Haibara's lifeless corpse. All cold, pale and unmoving. He's gone, gone and never coming back, just like Suguru because only weeks after, you get the news that he's defected. Defected and on the run, hunted down by the very people he once knew and loved. Gojo, how was Gojo taking the news? The thought brushes past your mind, fading away just as quick as you struggle to pry the umpteenth cigarette from Shoko's fingers, her smoking habit was becoming worse and you took it upon yourself to see that she doesn't kill herself at this rate. Busying yourself to make sure that you don't kill yourself with the lack of closure.

°

"Satoru, how are you holdin' up?" You call out softly as you enter his room, watching the usually bright eyes of his all bloodshot and red does nothing but heighten your worry as you watch him lying down in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Settling down at the edge of the bed, you quietly grab his cold hand, offering him what little comfort you can give. "They need me to kill him" Oh. You say nothing, there's nothing to say. No words of comfort would ever work, not anymore. Squeezing his cold hand just a bit tighter, the room becomes a little more darker with the sun setting behind the windows before he starts speaking again. He's speaking and you're listening, listening to him vent about things you never knew, listening to him ramble on and on about things that didn't matter to others but it did, it did matter to him so he talked about it and you listened, humming and nodding late into the night. Completely missing the fact that his hand never warmed up.

Satoru's talkative by nature, it's an undeniable fact but even he outdid himself when he wakes up with a jolt, looking at the harsh sunlight forcing its way through the windows. With a groan he moves to raise his arms over his head but pauses, blinking back his surprise when he catches sight of your head resting besides his hand, your hands grabbing onto his as if for dear life. Shifting his position he finally sees your legs awkwardly sprawled on the floor, realizing only then that he talked throughout the night only to conk out halfway through, realizing only then that you never let go of his hand, not even once.

Finally, he finally lets his infinity down. The warmth of your hand immediately enveloping his, the tiny squeeze you give while still asleep and the soft sounds of your breathing, oh it makes his heart thump just a little bit faster and stomach flutter just a little bit harder. Gently brushing your hair back, he freezes when your eyes flutters open "Gojo?" You yawn, pulling your hand to rub at your eyes but when you fail to feel both your hands on your face, you realize that he's holding on, squeezing just enough to not hurt but to feel.

"Satoru"

"What?" You look at him confusedly. "Call me Satoru" he grins the same old smile. The smile that reaches upto his eyes and crinkles the area around it...but this time it's softer, softer and warmer. You can't help but smile back at the expectant look in his eyes, the squeeze of his warm hand urging you on, warm. His hand was warm.

"Satoru"

°

Spoiling you rotten was now the only goal in Satoru's life; the extravagant gifts, the 'just because' flowers, the more than unnecessary other things that he does which only earns him a low whistle from Shoko and a polite thank you from your side. You rejected it at first, of course you did. Hell, you rejected it until you lost count but one thing about Satoru is the fact that he's stubborn, so stubborn in fact that the more you rejected the gifts, the more he gave. One gift became two, two became three and so on. Finally giving in when he presents you with the key to a house you said you liked while flipping through a brochure, you refuse it firmly though.

Finally giving in and accepting every other gifts except for that, he just shrugs and pockets the key "feel free and ask if you ever need it, it's yours from now anyways" being the only thing he says before going back to his usual routine.

Satoru was nothing like his father, he was just a lovesick fool, a rich one at that.

°

You liked Satoru, adored him even but not in that way. He was your senior, your partner in crime and your bestfriend if you were being generous with the titles, that's all there was to it. You don't like anyone that wa- Your heart lingers on a certain blond man from the past but he's gone, gone and living his life away from the sorcery world. It's better off this way, you think, brushing off the thought quickly as you file your paperwork in silence. But fate is a funny thing because after everything was said and done, it all starts over again.

Starting with the emergence of Sukuna's vessel and ending with his return, igniting the embers you so difficultly tried to put out. You openly gawk at him when you see him for the first time in a long time, heart fluttering at the smile tugging his lips and your name rolling off his tongue so naturally that it feels like he never left at all.

"Nanami, you're back afterall"

°

Satoru's not sure of his own feelings these days, unsure on if he likes seeing you getting along with Nanami or not. On one hand he's happy watching his only remaining juniors get along but on the other, he just can't get rid of that ugly, twisted feeling that stabs him everywhere when he watches Nanami touch you for a little too long or watch the way your eyes light up when you make the stoic man smile. It just makes him want to snap something...or someone whichever is more convenient.

So he goes to Shoko and on a drunken stupor spills everything out, stupidly crying his heavy heart as he nurses his glass of beer. "Just confess already" is all Shoko says but he perks up, acting like he just heard the answer to all the unanswered secrets in the universe.

"I love you, will you marry me?" Satoru blurts out as he watches you reach the tori gates of the school compound, on your way to your next mission. You look at him with shock, mouth forming a silent what? Too stunned to speak or make a sound. "We could date first if you want" He smiles at you, all bravado and confidence acting as if like he didn't just profess his feelings to you. "No" is all you manage out, missing the way his smile twitches at the word.

"No?"

"No, I'm sorry Sator- Gojo. I don't....I don't see you that way" you sputter out, hands flailing wildly in front of you. Soul-crushing is an understatement, heart-wrenching, bone-breaking...nothing can describe what he, what Gojo, feels at the moment, it's all too much. "It's because of Nanami, isn't it?"

You freeze, heat creeping up your face when he calls you out. You look down in embarrassment and hurriedly cup your cheeks to hide your flushed face, wrong move. Maybe if you kept your eyes on him you'd have seen the way his jaw ticked, maybe you'd have seen him curling his hand into a fist but you didn't do that so you don't see it. Instead you bow, muttering an apology and excuses of being late for your mission before running off, missing the abnormal silence and the eerie chill in the air despite the harsh summer sun shining right overhead.

°

Every single person was wary of Gojo, sorcerers and elders alike, because ever since the day you'd gone missing, his mood has been no better than thunderous. With the emergence of Sukuna's vessel, the curses that needed to be exorcised had increased in number and strength. With the staggering disadvantage of numbers, you had been assigned back-to-back missions and one fine day, had gone missing along with the Grade-2 curse you'd been sent to exorcise. The efforts to at least find your body was futile at best, nothing was left behind, not even a minisicule trace. Finally deeming you dead after a month of searching with no hope of finding your body ever again, it only adds to someone's despair all over again, he should've never come back afterall.

Gojo sighs, shutting the door behind him and silently making his way to the bedroom, he wasn't mad at the fact that you'd gone missing, not at all. On the contrary, he had you right where he wanted you to be. Chained up on his bed for him only. Then why was he mad? He was only mad because even after all this time of convincing and explaining, you still did not understand why he's doing all this. He loves you and he needs you by his side, what was so hard to understand? "I missed you too" Gojo hums to himself when he hears the muffled rattling of chains behind the door, realizing that you heard him come back.

You weren't weak by any means, not at all. You could snap normal chains like twigs if you wanted to but the cursed chain graciously attached to your feet by Gojo was resilient, all efforts left futile. It also burns, it burns like a red-hot spoke, branding you his if you ever so much as try to walk out the bedroom door. The chain magically extended itself to all corners of the bedroom and the bathroom but anywhere else and you're lying on the floor with tears in your eyes as you drag yourself back to bed because of the searing burn around your ankle.

°

You rub your eyes dazedly, where the hell were you? The comforter beneath you, the curtained drapes and even the smell was unfamiliar. Your last memory was being flung to the wall by the semi-special grade curse that you thought was a Grade-2 curse, a deadly mistake by the administration team. You needed to alert Ijichi for back up otherwise you're dead, a blur of white hair flashes past you. Gojo? Why was Gojo her- "Finally awake?" You blink, turning around to see Gojo leaning back on a chair besides the bed with a grin. "Gojo, where am I?" You tentatively ask, eyeing your bandaged arms.

"Our house. You said you liked it last time didn't you? " he answers simply, holding his arm out matter-of-factly. You narrow your eyes at the platinum band on his left ring finger, only realizing then that you had a similar one of your own in your hand. You move to get up but something cool tugs at you ankle, the sound of chain rattling only increasing your heart beat as you throw the blanket off of you. Cold sweat running through you at the thought of it "Gojo, what is this?"

"Oh don't mind it, it's just a precaution" he stands up, pushing the chair aside as he gently tugs at the chain with a satisfied look. "This isn't funny" you tug the chain loose from his finger, biting back the bile rising up your throat when he quietly grabs hold of your ankle. "It's not meant to be funny" he grins, pulling you towards him by your ankle."Why?" You breathe out every so softly, fear and betrayal etched on your face. Oh betrayal, sweet sweet betrayal, he really does love that look on your face.

Everything he says is a buzz, you can't hear him, you're panicking. Nanami, what about Nanami? Oh God, what's gonna happen to him without you there? "Oh don't look like that, I'm not gonna hurt you" he coos, cupping your cheeks, completely misunderstanding your panic. You grab hold of his cold hands, silent tears streaming down your face "Let me go, please Gojo. I swear I won't tell anyone, Please" you plead, lips quivering and shuddering as sobs wrecks your body. "I'm afraid I can't do that" he tuts with mock pity, one hand gently caressing your body as it slides down to your ankle.

"This chain..." he tugs it. Hard.

"Keeps you safe. Keeps you with me. KEEPS YOU MINE" Maybe if he didn't say all that with a smile on his face, you wouldn't have hated him as much as you did right now. But he did and the burning pit of hate burns in your heart, you should've never met him.

"Also call me Satoru, we're gonna be here for a very long time"

°

It all starts over again.

Satoru is nothing like his father.

Where his father's love story extended for so long, his was cut short. Cut short by fate and your death- or thats what people think at least. They don't know that you're well alive and breathing, chained to the bed by the supposedly pitiful star crossed lover of a man.

It's ironic really, when his mother was chained down to his father by just a ring on her finger, he had hated it but here he was, years later. Literally and figuratively chaining you down to him with a physical chain, maybe the reason why Lady Luck seemed to favor the most twisted of mind was because she had a twisted sense of humor too. It's the only explanation.

But what about his mother's words? He became the strongest, that's one wish fulfilled. Never turn into a monster like his father?.... That's two wishes fulfilled, For Better or For worse, he's gonna keep true to his promise till the end.

Satoru is nothing like his father, he was so much worse.

__________________________________________________

Writing block hit me hard. Currently working on pt.3 of Prod!Gojo Satoru again cuz I deleted it by mistake 🥲

Masterlist