#DO NOT tag this as romantic i’m staring daggers

[serenadeofsunshine]

(wakes up in cold sweat) My Boy….

[writerastray]

Recreate

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Disclaimer:

⚠︎ My works are all protected. I do not permit any form of copying, translation, or reposting. Please reblog if you want to share my work.

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-> Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin/f!Reader

-> Word count: 4.2k

-> Rating: 18+→ Mature/Explicit

->Genre/Tropes: Romance, Mutual Pining, Romantic/Sexual Tension, One-shot, Fluff, Fun, (a sprinkle of angst), Smut. Other Additional Tags to Be Added. (Spoiler tags: Childhood Friends to Lovers.)

-> Warning tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Heartbreak, Writer's Block/Creative Struggles, Alcohol Consumption, Use of fake dagger? Other Additional Tags to Be Added.

-> Synopsis: Hyunjin, a successful author, can’t seem to write a decent romance scene anymore. When you, his childhood friend, visit him for the weekend and discover his creative block, you propose a bold solution: recreating the scenes together. The only catch? Hyunjin insists that you be his partner.

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The coffee shop was about to close.

The streets were a bit busy, as it was almost Christmas time. Most of the stores were filled with people rushing to buy last-minute gifts.

The cold wind carried the scent of witch hazel from the flower shop nearby, mixed with the sweet scent of roasted chestnuts and cinnamon from street vendors. Beneath the glow of streetlights, the snow sparkled like scattered diamonds, and laughter echoed as couples and families hurried by, their breath visible in the frosty air.

Your feet didn’t move as you saw Hyunjin at the counter, smiling at a young lady as he completed her payment. It hadn’t been long—just a year and a half, in fact—but it felt like years since you had last seen him. He reminded you so much of when he was younger: playful eyes, still flirty, and that sweet smile that never failed to make your stomach flip.

After countless copies of his books were sold, he still lived above the coffee shop. You remembered when he asked you to help him move there. You still had that bittersweet taste in your mouth after leaving Hyunjin by himself and returning to the countryside alone.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your bag and crossed the street. The bell above the door chimed as you entered, and warmth immediately wrapped around you. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee blended with the buttery scent of croissants and the sweet spice of cinnamon rolls. Your stomach growled in response.

You walked to the counter, and your gaze met Hyunjin’s.

His eyes widened briefly before a slow smile tugged at his lips. Surprise melted into something sharper, a piercing stare that almost stole your breath away.

Tilting his head, he asked, “Why is there a witch in my coffee shop?”

You smiled back. “If you don’t want to be cursed,” you replied, leaning on the counter, “I’d suggest making me something to eat.”

“So demanding,” he said, shaking his head. “Give me five minutes.” He disappeared into the kitchen. His voice echoed from inside, and you couldn't help but smile at his loud giggle.

Looking around, you noticed an empty table in the corner near a wall full of quotes. One caught your eye: “I can't go back to yesterday because I was a different person then.” — Alice in Wonderland. It used to be Hyunjin's favorite as a child.

Hyunjin returned five minutes later, carrying a plate of food.

“Here you go, my dear witch.”

He sat across from you, his gaze fixed on you like you were the most fascinating thing he’d seen in years. His black hair was slightly tousled, and it had grown since you last saw him, curling at the ends. His white shirt was rumpled, and yet he looked just as princely as the first time you met him as a child.

“What? Missed me that much?” you teased.

His brow arched slightly before he asked, “How are you doing, Y/N?” in that soft voice of his.

“To be honest, I’m doing well. Life has been kind to me.”

It had been five years since you moved to the countryside to live on your own. It was your dream since childhood, when you lived with your grandma during the summers; and even though all your friends were in the city for college, you chose to stay.

“I’m happy to hear that,” he said. “And your grandma?”

“She’s on a cruise with my mom,” you replied, shaking your head in disbelief. “Can you imagine those two stuck together on a ship?”

He laughed, and you felt your heart race at the sight. His head tilted back, eyes crinkling into crescents.

“I give it two days before they’re at each other’s throats,” you quipped.

“Two days?” he said, still chuckling. “You’re being generous. Your grandma’s probably having the time of her life annoying your mom.”

The bell above the door jingled, and a small group of students entered, their chatter filling the cozy space. Hyunjin stood, brushing off his hands, still smiling. “Eat. You’re home—head upstairs when you’re done. They’re my last customers, and I’ll close up after.”

You nodded and turned your attention to the plate in front of you. The food was every bit as delicious as you’d hoped, and Minho hadn’t been exaggerating about the Tiramisu—it was the best dessert you had ever had.

After finishing, you gathered your things and started toward the stairs, only to hear Hyunjin call out. He jogged over, pulling something from his pocket. “Keys,” he said, his lips curling into a playful smirk as he tossed them to you.

You caught them midair, raising an eyebrow. “Still trusting me with these after all these years?”

He winked before turning back to the counter. “Always.”

His apartment was a blend of a library and an art studio. Bookshelves lined the walls, overflowing with novels, sketchbooks, and scattered trinkets from his travels. Canvases rested against the corners of the room, some blank, others adorned with half-finished paintings. A faint scent of paint lingered in the air, mixing with the subtle sweetness of the winter jasmine that drifted in through the open balcony door. You chuckled. He hadn’t changed at all.

You walked to the guest room. It was simple, with just a bed, a desk, and a wardrobe. You placed your bag in the corner and let yourself fall onto the bed. It was soft and smelled fresh—Hyunjin must have just put on clean sheets. You grabbed your phone and sent a message to your mom, letting her know you were at Hyunjin’s, and another in the group chat with your friends. You were here for your yearly winter reunion with your childhood friends. This year, it would be at Chan’s apartment.

The apartment door creaked open, followed by the sound of a lock clicking into place. Hyunjin’s voice carried through the quiet space. “Love?”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a soft snort. His footsteps were nearly silent, but you sensed his presence before you saw him. He appeared in the doorway of the guest room, leaning casually against the frame, a bottle in hand. “Strawberry wine?”

The sweet wine slid down smoothly. It was dizzying in the best way, loosening muscles that had been tight since you’d stepped on the train to the city.

“So, the reunion,” Hyunjin started, swirling his glass of wine lazily. “Changbin’s girlfriend is coming. Nervous?”

Changbin had been your first love, and for a long time, you regretted ending things. You thought that if you’d been stronger, you might still be together. Maybe you could have fought harder, tried to make the long-distance relationship work. But you didn’t. Then time did its thing, and eventually, you moved on.

You met his gaze steadily, though the question tugged at an old scar. “He’s my best friend at the end of the day.”

This would also be the first time Hyunjin and Felix would be with the rest of the group in the same room.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said quickly. “Hard to believe, but I’ve moved on too.”

It was hard to believe. He had been a mess after his breakup. It was the worst you’d ever seen him.

You were at Chan’s apartment that evening, watching a movie on the couch, when the door slammed open. Hyunjin stumbled in, his face red, tears streaming down his cheeks. His chest heaved as though he couldn’t catch his breath, one hand clutching the fabric of his shirt over his heart.

“It hurts,” he choked out. That was all he could manage before his knees gave out, and Chan rushed to catch him.

You’d only seen him like this once before, years ago, because of his parents. He clung to Chan like he was the only thing keeping him steady, reduced to sobs that wracked his entire body; his fingers digging into his friend’s shirt as he gasped for air between cries.

For days, he stayed in bed, barely speaking. He’d stare blankly at the ceiling or curl into himself, clutching a pillow as though it could shield him from the pain. It took weeks before he could even crack a small smile, and months before that smile felt genuine again.

“So, what’s your new book about this time?” you asked, wanting to talk about something else.

He groaned. “Nothing.”

You frowned. Hyunjin’s mind was never without a story. “What happened this time?”

He smiled faintly. “If I tell you, will you solve the problem?”

“No,” you said.

He eyed you. “Maybe.”

His eyebrow arched. “Probably,” you gave up.

He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re just like when we were kids, trying to solve all the problems in the world.”

“Don’t change the subject,” you said.

Running a hand through his hair, he sighed and licked his lips before meeting your gaze. “I know the story. It’s just... some scenes don’t feel natural. I think I don’t know how to write romance anymore.” Then, tilting his head with a smirk, he added, “Do you have a spell to fix it?”

You threw a cushion at his head as his laughter filled the night.

The next morning was a sunny Saturday. You stayed in bed for at least an hour before finally getting up. You hadn’t fallen asleep until 1 a.m., trying to come up with a solution to Hyunjin’s problem. You couldn’t help it; you loved solving them.

Eventually, an idea came to you.

Hyunjin was in the kitchen, wearing a white shirt so large it slipped off his collarbones, holding an apple in one hand.

“Isn’t it too early for you to bother me?” he mumbled.

You smiled at his annoyed tone. He had always been like that when he woke up at your grandma’s house after sleepovers.

“I thought about what you said last night,” you said, pouring coffee into a yellow mug and sitting across from him at the table. “About your writing.”

His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “Haven’t I told you not to bother with this?”

“Actually, no, you didn’t. Besides, when have I ever listened to you?”

He closed his eyes, his mouth opening and closing as if the words were hard to form. Then he rolled his eyes and said, “Speak.”

You sipped your coffee before continuing, “What if you tried recreating a scene? You know, live it out—get into the character’s head.”

He stilled mid-bite, his expression skeptical. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve heard a lot of writers do that. Whether it’s fight scenes or dance scenes, some even take classes to understand them better.”

“Tonight, you’re going back home,” he deadpanned.

You pressed on. “It can work. At least you should try it!”

Hyunjin was silent for a while before finishing his apple and taking a gulp of his coffee. He leaned back in his chair. “And I suppose the person I’d recreate it with would be you. Is that your way of telling me you’re interested in me?”

You looked away, embarrassed. “Of course not!” The warmth creeping up your neck betrayed your calm tone. “And it doesn’t need to be me. We can find someone you’re more comfortable with.”

He got up and came closer to you. His hands were in his pockets, but you felt caged by his stare. He looked up and put a hand to his lips, tilting his head slightly, until his whole body stopped.

His eyes met yours.

“It’s not you that’s the problem.”

“What is it then? You? It’s not me; the problem is you.” You sighed. “If your books are as cliché as you—”

“My books are good.”

“And if you want to write another one, you need to work on your field research.”

“Is that what you call making out with me?”

“It is now.”

He opened his mouth, then sank his teeth into his lower lip. For a moment, you couldn’t stop staring. When you realized you were mirroring his action, you looked into his eyes. He seemed to be searching for something, but then you saw his shoulders relax, and his eyes closed.

Hyunjin sighed dramatically, crossing the room to grab a notebook. “Fine. Let’s try it.”

“Wait—‘we’?” you asked, taken aback.

He turned, a sly grin spreading across his face. “You’re the one who suggested it, love. Field research, remember?”

Hyunjin leaned back on the couch, running a hand through his dark, disheveled hair. The faint glow of his laptop screen illuminated his concentrated expression. Next to him, you watched the rays of sunlight slip through the drawn curtains, while absently turned a fake dagger between your fingers—a prop he had picked up at one of his book signings. 

“So, they can’t be together, even if they have feelings for each other, because he’s immortal, and she has to die tomorrow for him to claim the throne and start a war?” you asked.

He nodded, his gaze fixed on the screen.

“Got it.” But the truth was, you didn’t. Your hands were clammy, your heart pounding so loudly you wondered if he could hear it.

The way he avoided your eyes didn’t help. You swallowed hard, forcing your voice to stay steady. “If this makes you uncomfortable, we can find someone else—” 

“There’s no one else,” he answered, his tone firm. “And I’m not uncomfortable.”

You studied his face, looking for any hint of hesitation. “Are you sure?”

He nodded and finally met your gaze. His stare sets you ablaze. We’ll only pretend. Nothing more, you remind yourself. 

You licked your lips before asking with a small smile, “Not even nervous?”

He arched an eyebrow. His hand brushed your waist, and you saw the shift in his eyes—intense and almost hypnotic.

“I don’t think I’m the only one who’s nervous,” he said. His smirk deepened, and, in one swift motion, he pulled you closer. “Whenever you’re ready, little witch,” he teased.

With slightly trembling hands, you grabbed the dagger and placed it against his throat.

“You think I won’t do it?” you said, reciting the line from his book, though your voice wavered.

"You don’t have the courage," he said, his voice low and taunting.

"Of course I have," you lied, gripping the dagger tighter.

His breath hitched, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before snapping back to your eyes.

"So, do it," he whispered.

You don’t answer. Instead, you lean into him, your lips brushing his in a kiss that starts soft but deepens almost instantly.

 It took you to somewhere far from reality. Was that really happening? Were you really making out with your childhood friend for the sake of a book? 

His hand slides to the back of your neck and you tilt your head, pressing closer. He makes a low sound in his throat that sends a thrill through you.

When you finally broke apart, you were breathless, your lips swollen and your heart racing.  

Hyunjin’s gaze is heavy-lidded, staring at you, his pupils blown wide, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

“I—” you started, but the words stuck in your throat.

Hyunjin’s lips twitched, his eyes darkening in amusement. “What’s wrong? Afraid to take the next step?”

Your pulse thundered in your ears, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks. “No,” you shot back, though your voice wavered. 

You hadn’t expected kissing him to feel so… right.  Like finally finding the missing piece of a puzzle.

Hyunjin’s eyes searched for yours. You could feel the weight of his gaze, the way it lingered, testing you, daring you.

“Then prove it,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you again, but he stopped short. His gaze flicked between your eyes and lips. “What would they do next?” 

You swallowed hard, caught between the roles you were meant to play and the reality of what you felt. “They wouldn’t stop.” 

Hyunjin’s lips curved into a smirk, “No,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t think they would.”

He leaned forward, capturing your lips again, and this time, there was no hesitation.

Hyunjin’s hand slides from your neck to your waist, pulling you into him until you're straddling his lap. The laptop, once forgotten, slides, together with the dagger, to the floor with a soft thud. 

Your breath hitches as his lips leave yours, trailing a hot, open-mouthed path along your jaw, neck, and the sensitive spot just below your ear. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groans, the sound reverberating against your skin.

“You’re so…” Hyunjin’s voice falters, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, his words almost too much to say. “Irresistible.”

You feel his lingering smirk as his hands roam lower, gripping your hips and holding you in place as you rock against him.

“Hyunjin,” you breathe, your voice breaking on his name. You try to remind yourself that every kiss is just pretend. You are only recreating a scene.

He lifts his head, his dark eyes searching yours, his expression raw and vulnerable. “Say my name like you mean it, love. You know you want to,” he says, his thumb brushing your lips.

Your lips part, and you lean forward, kissing him again. Your hands fist in the fabric of his shirt, tugging it upward until he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside. You pause at the sight of him—his skin smooth and warm, taut over lean muscle, the sunlight spilling through the curtains painting him in golden hues.

You reach for him, your fingers brushing the curve of his jaw and the dip of his collarbone; he shivers at your touch. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” you say, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

“Am I?” His brows lift, the corners of his lips tilting into a mischievous grin. “If I remember correctly, you once called me a frog.”

You laugh as Hyunjin’s hands trace the curve of your waist. His lips meet yours, tongue sliding against yours, deepening the kiss as he explores you slowly, savoring every moment. 

His fingers curl under the hem of your shirt, and he says against your lips, “Is this okay?” His voice is thick and unsteady for just a moment, making your heart coil inside you.

“Yes,” you whisper, trembling with anticipation. “Please.”

He bites his lips, eyes darkening; and then he’s pulling your shirt up, over your head, revealing your bare skin to the soft glow of the sunlight.

Hyunjin freezes for a moment, his gaze roaming over you like you’re... something precious. You need to remind yourself that it’s not real, that both of you are just pretending—for the sake of the book.

Hyunjin’s plump lips capture yours messily. "I dreamed about this," he says between kisses.

He leans down, his lips brushing the curve of your collarbone, then lower, to the swell of your breast. His hands slide up your sides, cupping your breasts gently, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

You arch into his touch, your body instinctively seeking more, and he takes the hint, his mouth closing over your nipple. He sucks softly, the sensation sending a bolt of pleasure straight to your core. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him there as he switches to the other, his tongue flicking over the hardened peak before nipping it lightly with his teeth.

“Hyunjin,” you gasp, your hips bucking against him.

He groans, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as he moves, pinning you against the couch. His hips grind against yours, the hard press of him sparking a heat that blooms low in your belly.

He grips your waist before sliding your pants down, taking your underwear with them, leaving you bare beneath him.

You feel exposed, vulnerable, but the way he looks at you—his gaze consumed by desire, his lips parted—erases any hesitation. 

He kisses his way down your body, his hands following the path of his mouth, brushing over your hips, your thighs, until he’s settled between your legs.  

His lips trail over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, his breath warm against you as he moves closer, his hands gently spreading you. “You want me, hm?” His voice drops to a teasing whisper. “Tell me, love, what exactly do you need?”  

You moan, almost begging. “Stop messing with me.”  

He chuckles and finally leans in. Hyunjin’s tongue traces a path along your slick folds. Your body jolts at the sensation, back arching as a strangled moan escapes your lips.  

His hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as his tongue circles, flicks, and plays with your clit. You can’t hold back the sounds spilling from your lips, your hands holding his curls tight. 

“Hyunjin,” you gasp, voice high and breathless.  

He looks up at you, lips glistening, gaze burning with desire, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “If you keep doing that, love, I might not be able to stop.”  

Your hips buck against him, body chasing the building pleasure as he slips a finger inside, then another, curling them in a way that makes you see stars. He pumps them slowly at first, matching the rhythm of his tongue, then faster as your breaths come in short, sharp gasps.  

“Hyunjin, I’m—”  

You shatter, body tightening around his fingers as waves of pleasure crash over you. You cry out, holding him against you as he guides you through your climax, his movements slowing but never stopping.

When you finally calm, your chest rising and falling with each breath, he traces his kisses back up your body, his lips lingering on your skin as though he can’t get enough of you. The firm length of his cock presses against your thigh, sending another rush of arousal through you.

His eyes search for yours, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. “We don’t have to go any further if you don’t want to,” he says, his voice soft, careful.  

“I do,” you say, reaching for him, your hands finding the waistband of his pants. “I want this,” you add, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest.  

Hyunjin’s breath catches as he helps you push his pants and boxers down. You swallowed, taking him in—hard, heavy, and glistening with arousal. “I’ve never been more sure.”  

For a moment, he freezes, his eyes locked on yours, and you realize what you’ve just said. You silently hope he thinks it’s the character speaking and not the hypothesis that you might be way more into him than you thought.

His forehead drops to yours as he pushes into you, slow and steady, filling you inch by inch until you feel impossibly full. Your body stretches around him, and you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders.  

“Fuck,” he whispers, his voice a broken plea, “my goddess.”  

You can’t speak, can only nod as he begins to move, his hips rolling in a slow rhythm. His thrusts grow deeper as he leans down to capture your lips again. The kiss is fierce, almost desperate, his tongue sliding against yours before his lips suck, lick, and bite yours repeatedly.  

Your legs wrap around his waist; the friction between you sparking waves of pleasure. He moans into your mouth, his hands sliding under you to tilt your hips, fucking you harder.  

“Hyunjin,” you whimper. 

Your hands roam over his back, nails scraping lightly against his skin, and you feel him shudder above you. You lift your hips to meet his thrusts, each movement sending shockwaves through you. The pressure coils low in your belly as your body tightens around him. “Just like that,” you said.

Hyunjin’s hand slips between you, his thumb finding your sensitive clit. He circles it with just the right amount of pressure, matching the rhythm of his hips. Your vision blurs as you tumble over the edge.  

“I can feel you,” he moans, his voice nearly a whimper. “Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight.”  

Your only response is a gasp, your head tilting back as you surrender to the pleasure. His lips trail down your throat, sucking and biting gently, leaving marks you know will linger.  

He moans, his rhythm faltering as your release triggers his own. His body tenses, a shudder running through him as he buries himself deep, his cum spilling into you. Hyunjin’s face nestled in your neck as he says your name and comes apart in your arms.

Both of you lay tangled together, your breaths mingling, your bodies slick with sweat. Hyunjin lifted his head slowly, brushing damp strands of hair from your face as he looked down at you. His thumb traced the curve of your lips, his gaze soft and full of something you couldn’t quite name.  

“You’re incredible,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.  

“So are you,” you whispered, your hands sliding up to cup his face. You kissed him softly, languidly, savoring the moment.  

When he finally pulled away, he stayed close, his forehead resting against yours as your breaths evened out. “I think I’ll have no trouble writing now,” he said, a small, sheepish smile tugging at his lips.  

You laughed, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. “I’d say we got into character pretty well.”  

Hyunjin chuckled softly, his fingers brushing over your skin as he lay next to you. “You know, I think I have a few other scenes I could work on…” His words trailed off as you suddenly pushed him off the couch.  

“And be late for Chan's party? Never.” You teased, raising an eyebrow.  

“What a witch,” he laughed, his eyes warm with affection as he got up and went to the bathroom.  

You watched him walk away, trying to ignore how your heart raced. For now, you pretended it was just a fleeting feeling, hoping—really hoping—that there would be more scenes to recreate.

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Author's note: Hi! I hope you liked this story. English is my second language, so please excuse my errors. Constructive feedback is always appreciated! I do not permit any form of copying, translation, or reposting of my work.

Did you enjoy this? If so, please reblog it. Thank you for reading! Sending love 💕

Copyright © 2025 by Writerastray.

[cece693]

Me, Jealous?

pairing: hannibal lecter x male reader tags: jealous hannibal lecter, reader is amused, not hannibal (nbc) canon,

A date at the opera was hardly what you would call romantic. The venue itself might’ve been grand—old, world architecture with gilded flourishes on the ceiling and plush velvet seats arranged in perfect rows—but everything about it felt like a stage set for egos. Brighter-than-necessary overhead lighting illuminated acres of expensive fabrics—lustrous silk gowns and tailored tuxedos that cost more than what most people made in a month—and you could all but taste the arrogance in the air.

It wasn’t your ideal location for a date by any stretch, but your husband had turned on his rare brand of doe-eyed pleading, sweetly murmuring “Please?” in that honeyed timbre that usually meant he had something up his sleeve. You should have guessed there was more to his insistence. In fact, you’d sensed an undercurrent of excitement radiating off of him from the moment you’d left your shared home. It became painfully obvious why he was so eager once you arrived and found him being whisked away by a woman whose understanding of personal boundaries seemed nonexistent.

You didn’t recognize her, and maybe she truly had no idea Hannibal was spoken for—or maybe she was fully aware and enjoying the attention anyway. Possessively, she clung to Hannibal’s arm, her manicured nails splayed like a decorative cuff on his impeccable suit sleeve. Her laughter at his every remark was irritatingly saccharine, the type that left you rolling your eyes behind the rim of your champagne flute.

Hannibal, naturally, glanced your way every so often. He had a certain glint in his eye—like a cat playing with its prey—anticipating your jealousy. A lesser spouse might have felt their heart clench, might have shot daggers at the other woman or stormed over to reclaim their partner. But you’d been through these small tests before. This was Hannibal’s game, and he loved to provoke a reaction just to study it, to taste it the way he might taste a fine wine. But you knew better than to give him exactly what he wanted without having him ask sweetly.

Leaning against a marble column, you let your gaze skim over the crowd. Most of the attendees were too busy boasting about their knowledge of obscure operas or discussing the perfect brand of caviar to notice you, but you still felt a few curious stares. Being Dr. Lecter’s husband was a precarious sort of prestige—people either hovered like anxious sycophants hoping to impress you, or they observed you from a distance with feline curiosity. Tonight, though, you simply had no patience for idle chit-chat. If Hannibal wanted to play, let him. It wouldn't cause a rift in your relationship like others might believe. Because that was the unspoken truth: no matter how many admirers clung to his arm, Hannibal’s nights were solely yours. It was you he felt anything akin to love.

Your eyes continued to roam the opulent hall: heavy drapes fell from high windows, shimmering under the bright chandeliers. The murmur of voices rose like tidal swells, and snippets of classical music drifted in from the stage where the orchestra had tuned mere moments ago. It was then that you caught sight of someone else—a man with neatly combed dark hair and a tailored suit that fit him so flawlessly it seemed hand-stitched. You recognized him vaguely; he’d been polite when you first entered, a quick hello exchanged in passing while the audience was still finding their seats.

Now, he stepped away from a small group he’d been conversing with and headed in your direction. Despite the chatter around you, his voice was pitched low when he finally spoke, creating a sense of intimacy amid the bustle. “Good evening,” he greeted. “I see we meet again.”

You inclined your head politely. “We do. Enjoying the performance?”

“I’ll be honest—I’m not much of an opera fan. But I make appearances when necessary.” He motioned around him, lips curving in a self-aware smirk. “Comes with the territory, I suppose.”

You let out a laugh—short, genuine, and surprising even to yourself. “I can relate.” You took a sip of champagne, feeling its effervescence linger on your tongue, and cast a glance across the hall to find Hannibal watching you. He stood a few paces away from his clingy companion, but his gaze was entirely fixed on you. You could practically feel the heat of his scrutiny.

The newcomer followed your line of sight. “Husband?”

You nodded. “That’s him,” you confirmed, swirling the champagne in your glass to give your hands something to do. “He’s…quite sociable tonight.”

“Lucky man,” the stranger said, his brown eyes gleaming with sincere admiration. He leaned in just enough to keep his words between the two of you. “I hope I’m not being too forward, but I’d much rather chat with you than half the people here. You seem—” he paused, searching for a precise term—“less rehearsed.”

Your lips curved into a small, wry smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

And honestly, it was. In a sea of plastic smiles and pretentious laughter, Adam was a breath of fresh air. He asked about you in a way that felt genuine—inquiring politely about the arts, about your tastes, about what you liked doing in your free time. The conversation flowed so effortlessly that you didn’t notice the time slipping by.

For nearly an hour, you and Adam talked, a soft bubble of quiet warmth in the midst of the bustling foyer. Eventually, the bell sounded to signal the final act was about to start. Adam extracted a slim black business card from his wallet and handed it to you, smiling. “Let me know if you ever want a less formal chat. I’d like that.”

You looked down at the card and then back at him, feeling amusement dance along your features. “I’ll consider it,” you said, inclining your head in gratitude.

He nodded his goodbye, rejoining the flow of people returning to their seats. Suddenly aware of how your heart beat just a bit faster, you turned and found Hannibal already at your side, the tension emanating from him as palpable as the hush that once again fell over the audience. He offered you a measured smile—overly polite. The humor never touched his eyes, and his hand came to rest protectively (or possessively, depending on perspective) around your waist.

As the two of you made your way back into the darkened auditorium, Hannibal’s grip did not loosen. It was as though he wanted the entire opera house to see exactly to whom you belonged. His free hand brushed down the front of his suit in an almost nervous gesture—though he’d label it a mere habit. The moment you settled into your plush seats, you could feel his gaze flicker to the business card in your hand. There was a storm in that glance, a controlled fury that might have burst into a full hurricane if not for the need to maintain civility in public.

Slyly, you slid the card into your pocket without breaking eye contact, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. You could imagine the wheels in Hannibal’s mind spinning: envy, curiosity, possessiveness, all swirling like a tempest. And you? You were calm—steady. His petty pageantry in parading around with another woman felt all the more transparent now that he watched you with such thinly-veiled anger.

Yes, Hannibal Lecter was a possessive man, a petty, petulant prince if ever there was one. But you knew just how to handle him. Smoothing the lapel of your own jacket, you let the lights dim around you. The orchestra swelled, the final act beginning, and Hannibal’s hand tightened over your own. You felt a rush of satisfaction that cut through the boredom of the night, a sense of triumph in how quickly the tables had turned.

By the time you and Hannibal exit the opera house, the swell of applause still echoing behind you, the tension between you is palpable. You trail after him through the opulent lobby—your pace unhurried despite the stony silence radiating off his shoulders. Outside, the Bentley gleams under the streetlights, and Hannibal unlocks it with a snap of his wrist that betrays his simmering mood.

He slides behind the wheel, and you settle in the passenger seat. There was no music playing, not even the subdued hum of classical radio that Hannibal often preferred. He eases the car away from the curb with smooth precision, but his knuckles stand out white on the steering wheel, his maroon eyes fixed ahead. In the hush of the Bentley’s interior, you can almost feel his anger swirl like a tangible thing. Where others might quake at that quiet fury, you find yourself quietly amused. You’ve seen the beast’s temper before; this is just another piece on the chessboard.

The drive home feels longer than usual, the only sound the rhythmic hum of the tires and the low purr of the engine. You steal a glance his way every so often, noting how his jaw tightens, how his lips press into a line. He’s stewing. But you allow the silence to remain unbroken, letting him feel the full brunt of his own jealousy. If Hannibal truly wanted this result—wanted to provoke or be provoked—he can drown in it for a while. A small, satisfied smirk forms at the corner of your mouth before you quickly wipe it away.

When the Bentley glides up the winding driveway to your home, Hannibal parks with more force than necessary. The headlights cut off abruptly, and for a moment, neither of you moves. You can sense him hesitating, perhaps wrestling with the possibility of speaking first. Then he sets his jaw and steps out, slamming the door behind him with quiet aggression.

Inside the house, the familiar warmth of low lamps and the faint aroma of polished wood greet you. You shrug off your coat and hang it neatly by the door. Hannibal’s own coat is flung onto a nearby chair with none of his usual precision. He’s already stalking through the foyer, shoulders rigid, making a pointed show of ignoring you. That’s how you know he’s furious: Hannibal never leaves his clothing in disarray without intending it as a message.

You follow him into the sitting room, where he has paused in front of the fireplace, one hand curled at his side. “Was it fun?” he asks without turning around. His voice is taut, every syllable thick with petty jealousy.

“Surprisingly, yes,” you reply, taking measured steps toward him. “Given the circumstances.”

He swivels to face you, maroon eyes narrowing. “I suppose I should be pleased you enjoyed yourself.” There is no pleasure in his tone—only an accusation, a reminder that his own orchestrations haven’t played out the way he intended.

You hold his gaze, refusing to rise to the bait. “I’m not the one who spent half the evening being clung to by someone who didn’t know how to keep her hands to herself.”

Hannibal’s lips twitch, and for a moment, you think he might admit to his mischief. Instead, he inhales slowly, as though collecting himself. His voice drops. “I want to see that business card.”

A short laugh escapes you. He’s come straight to the point, then—jealousy still raw. “What business card?” you ask innocently, already knowing he saw the whole exchange.

“Don’t pretend with me,” he snaps, more sharply than usual. “This—this Adam, or whatever he calls himself. Why would you need to keep his details if you have no intention of—?”

You step closer, crossing the room until you’re mere inches away, resting a hand lightly on his lapel. “I assure you—I merely think he could be a good friend,” you say, your tone calm, soothing. “And please don’t pretend it doesn’t suit you to have me cultivate connections. You’ve pushed me into social circles all this time; was it only acceptable when you pulled the strings?”

Hannibal’s eyes flick to your hand on his jacket, and in that micro-moment, you sense the conflict in him: the desire to shake you off versus his need to feel your touch. When he speaks again, his voice is clipped. “You don’t need a friend like him. I know his sort.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Considering you barely spoke to him, that’s quite an assumption.”

His expression darkens. “I’m not asking for your opinion. I’m telling you. Give me the card, and forget about him.” He’s trying to reassert control—like a child demanding a toy be taken away so nobody else can play with it. You let the silence stretch, your fingers sliding up to smooth the lapel of his suit. You’re not trying to antagonize him, not exactly. But neither are you in the habit of rolling over for his demands.

“Hannibal, you know that I love you. But no, you can’t have the card.”

His nostrils flare; he’s on the precipice between fury and something else—hurt, maybe. You lean in, pressing a kiss to his jaw, an unspoken assurance that all his insecurities don’t need to exist. He’s still yours, and you are his. “I’m not keeping it from you to be cruel,” you murmur. “But I do enjoy his company. Don't kill him just because you felt threatened."

His response is a quick, sneering exhale. “Threatened,” he repeats incredulously, as if the concept is beneath him. But the tension around his eyes says otherwise. You guide him backward until his legs meet the edge of the armchair, urging him to sit. He settles, still bristling. Standing before him, you slide one hand through his hair, letting him feel your affectionate calm.

“I don’t want to fight,” you say quietly, “especially not about something so small.”

“There wouldn’t be a fight if you would just—”

“—hand it over?” you finish for him, smiling ruefully. “Let it be, Hannibal. If you want to grill me about Adam, do so tomorrow. Right now, we’ve both had a long day.”

He looks up at you, and for a moment, the flash in his maroon eyes reminds you of a predator debating whether to lunge or retreat. But then his gaze softens, ever so slightly, and he exhales. You recognize this as a truce—a temporary surrender in a war of wits and possessiveness that defines your relationship.

Slowly, you lean down, capturing his lips in a quiet kiss meant to soothe. After a second’s hesitation, he kisses you back, and you feel the rigid line of his shoulders relax beneath your touch. The two of you remain that way for a breath or two—locked in a silent détente—until he finally pulls back. The storm in his expression still lingers, but there’s the promise of a calmer tomorrow.

You trace your thumb along his jaw. “Come to bed,” you suggest gently. “We can talk in the morning if you still feel so strongly.”

Hannibal nods once, gaze flickering with unresolved emotions. He stands, tugging you closer by the waist in a gesture that speaks of both affection and ownership. “Just remember,” he murmurs, voice low and controlled, “you belong to me.”

[theraggedygirl11]

Baš ja, koji nisam verovao da za nekim biću lud

Bojan's POV

Kris' POV: AO3 - Tumblr

SUMMARY: In a world where Heaven and Hell exist, angels and demons are constantly fighting and killing one another. What if a demon easily dominated by his emotions falls in love with a stoic and cold angel trained to kill demons?

PAIRING: Bojan Cvjetićanin/Kris Guštin

WARNINGS: swearing, blood, implied violence, hurt/comfort, implied suicide, emotional rollercoaster, enemies to lovers, hint of jance in the background

WORDS COUNT: 5.094

LINK: AO3

NOTES: Hello! Welcome to my first ever BoKris fic. It all started from this post by @arctixout and that damn tag (for reference: #stoic angel!kris and demon!bojan who's slave to his emotions and then they somehow fall in love wait who said that). And what could I do? It was too juicy to not write something out of it! So here we are.

Besides, as you can see from the title, I used Bluza (Youtube video and lyrics+translation) as my inspiration (and background music while writing), and this songs plays a role in the plot too 👀 yeah, I know we all think this is a BoJere song, but in this fic it's a BoKris fic, you'll understand why

Also, thanks to my beta @anxious-witch!

Last but not the least, I did this aestethic/moodboard trying to match @arctixout gifs

“You should talk to him.”

“Why? He's a demon. He's impure, a damned soul.”

“And you love him.”

“Angels can't love. He started corrupting me.”

“Angels can love and they must love. It's not corruption.”

“How can you tell it's not his corruption, Jan?!”

“Because I fell in love with a demon too. And I accepted it. Go to him, speak to him. He’s singing for you.”

When humans think about demons, the mental image they have is that of a terrifying creature, maybe with huge bat wings, a tail with an arrowhead at the end, claws, horns, red skin, maybe even hooves instead of feet.

Well, we do have a tail, and wings, and claws, but nothing alike of what you see in those pictures, and not every demon has them. We own a human form, just like everyone on this planet, that we use to roam among mortals. We have feelings, desires, hobbies, friends and families. Our only drawback is being born a demon from demon parents. We are guardians in Hell, we just watch over the damned souls who doomed themselves to suffering.

Heaven knows this, angels too, but they deliberately chose to not see this, to hate us, and they kill us with no hesitation when they find us on Earth. They think we are impure beings that don’t deserve to live.

And this is what led me, a demon, to meet the most beautiful creature ever seen on every plane of existence. I fell in love with an angel, I don’t even know his name, but I will discover it.

He almost killed me, I was terrified for my life, but he stopped when our eyes met, the sharp point of his dagger barely touched my throat. Something exploded in my chest, my heart was beating so fast. I've never felt something similar to what I felt at that moment.

And since that night I find myself staring at the sky so often, during both daytime and nighttime. Am I a hopeless romantic that waits for his angel to come and get him? Oh yeah, you can bet on it. And I'll wait for him to appear for eternity, if necessary.

* * *

“Bojan, come on!” Shouts Nace, one of my dearest demon friends. “We are late!”

I turn my eyes in his direction. I was staring at the sky, again. As always, no signs of my angel. He will appear, I’m sure of it, but this is not that day. I sigh, then reach Nace and Jure.

“Still looking for that feathered ass?” Jure asks.

“I…yes. I’d like to meet him again.”

“It’s better if you forget him, he will try to kill you again the next time he sees you,” says Jure while looking me in the eyes.

“He’s different. I’m sure of it. He didn’t kill me.”

“No, but he was about to,” replies Nace. “You know better than us that those winged assholes can’t be reasoned with.”

I lower my eyes, aware of the truth behind Nace’s words. We lost so many of our demon friends because of angels. But maybe…maybe he’s not like the other angels. I saw something in his eyes, something different, this sparkle.

With this thought in mind, I followed Nace and Jure to our destination: there’s a concert of a human band we all like, so we decided to go. We enjoy music so much, we also joke about forming a band together and tour together on Earth, among mortals, but that would put too much attention on us. It’s too dangerous. But at least we can enjoy concerts and gigs!

I’m dancing, taken away by the rhythm of the songs, when my gaze meets familiar eyes in the crowd, two amazing blue-green seas. I completely stop, and so does he. The music and every other sound disappears along with the people around me.

We stare at each other for moments that seem to last decades, blue into brown, light into darkness, Heaven into Hell, a perfect but forbidden combination, something that should never exist.

This magic spell breaks when I feel a hand on my shoulder and immediately after a tight grip. I turn and see Nace on my side, who is harshly staring at my angel. Jure appears on my other side.

I turn again towards my angel and I see two other people near him, one of them with dark and long messy hair and a beard, the other one with shorter hair but well combed and a trimmed beard. They are definitely angels. And they know we are demons.

The guy with messy hair steps in our direction, but my angel stops him, raising his hand and using it as a barrier. The dark-haired angel steps back and quickly glances at his friend. No one says a word.

“Bojči, let’s go,” Jure whispers into my ear, then grabs my arm and pulls me away.

I keep looking at my angel until I can no longer see him in the crowd.

In the next weeks Nace and Jure forbid me to go to the surface, but I sneak out. Every other demon could tell that my self-preservation instinct got fried because I want to talk to that angel, at all costs.

I keep looking at the sky, searching for him. Waiting for him to show up. And every single time nothing happens. But I’m stubborn, I won’t give up.

Tonight the sky is clear, stars are shining bright, and there's a small crescent moon. I'm lying on a patch of grass in the middle of nowhere, around me only trees and mountains. 

Suddenly a shadow partially covers the sky above me.

“What are you doing here all alone?”

I startle and stand up immediately, recoiling scared. When I recognise the person in front of me, I wide my eyes and open my mouth in surprise.

“Angel,” I whisper.

It’s dark, but I can sense his piercing blue eyes on me. He’s tall, taller than Jure and Nace too. His cheekbones are prominent, I can for sure cut myself while stroking them. Maybe I’m a masochist, but I want to touch them and feel them under my hands and bleed for him. He’s standing straight, rigid like a soldier, or maybe a general, I can’t tell his celestial rank.

“I repeat, since you seem to not understand my words, what are you doing here all alone?”

Shivers run down my whole body, his voice is…ok, this might sound cheeky, but yes, his voice sounds angelic, a slow caress of a lover on my back down to my waist. 

“I was looking for you.”

“For me?” He’s surprised.

“Yes, for you. I wanted to talk to you, angel.”

Now he’s confused. Well, not every day a demon comes looking for an angel. I go closer to him, moving slowly.

“I’m not armed,” I show him my hands. “You can check on me. This is not a trap.”

His eyes follow every single movement I do, even more carefully when I’m in front of him. I stare at his face, stunned by his beauty. I lift a hand to touch it, but I stop mid-air. No, I can’t touch him, my dirty hands can only ruin his perfection.

“Why do you want to talk to me, exactly?”

“I…I want to know you, angel.”

“I beg your pardon, you want to know…me?”

“Yes,” I nod. “You are amazingly beautiful, angel,” I let slip this comment, without realising. 

I notice a weird red-ish colour on his face. Did I just make him blush? I chuckle, he replies with a shy smile. Oh, he’s so wonderful! That smile almost made me melt on the spot. 

“Would you like to…I don’t know, come grab a coffee or anything else to drink?”

Who said that angels and demons can’t get along well? They must have never met an angel, then.

My angel, whose name is Kris, is a pleasant company. Well, he’s still a little bit rigid, but since that night when we had a couple of drinks together in a bar he became much more open and relaxed and he smiles so much now! Oh, I adore his smile. And his laugh too! 

We started going out together here and there, but every time it happens, my heart almost explodes out of joy. I can’t wait to see him again and again and again. Jure and Nace are worried for me, but I feel safe around Kris. He’s not like the other angels.

Our “dates” are pretty diverse. Sometimes we just hang out in some park or in the middle of wild places; once we sat on a cliff for hours, we talked and we observed the environment, at least Kris, I was too busy looking at him with heart eyes. Some other time we choose a city and we explore it, we can just appear anywhere in the world, a perk of being supernatural creatures!

This night though is special. Tonight I will confess my feelings to Kris. By now we have been seeing each other for some months and I’m completely sure about my love for him. Yes, I, a demon, fell in love with an angel, I’m not afraid of saying it, I want to shout it from the top of a building.

I’m putting on some makeup. I’m in front of the mirror in the bathroom of a small apartment I rented for when I’m roaming around on Earth. Jure and Nace are with me in the room, they are still worried for me.

“Are you sure of what you are about to do?” Nace asks.

“Yes, never been so sure in my long demonic life,” I reply.

“But he’s an angel, Bojči,” Jure whispers. “He’s dangerous. What if he’s playing with you?”

“He’s not, Jurček. I see how he looks at me, he…I think he’s in love with me too,” I glance at him through the mirror. 

“Angels are sly creatures, you can’t trust them,” Jure adds.

“They say the same stuff about us, you know?” 

I smile at my reflection. That black eyeshadow with glitter is perfect for me, my eyes are shining. “I love him, I’m going to tell him this. Tonight will be a special night, nothing can change this.”

We hear the sound of wings in the living room. He’s here.

I almost run in the room, a huge smile appears on my lips when I see him. He’s wearing beige trousers, a shirt with light colours and floral designs and a silver jacket. He’s from Heaven, no one can be mistaken. And his clothes collide with mine: I’m wearing black trousers and a black t-shirt, when we’ll go out I planned to wear a bright red leather jacket. He’s the good boy, I’m the bully, the bad boy.

“You are stunning, ljubavi .”

“You…too, Bojan.”

I notice his eyes passing over me. I turn and I see Jure and Nace.

“Oh, yeah, these are my dearest friends. This is Jure,” and I point to the blonde demon. “And this is Nace,” I move my hand towards the tattooed demon. “They are safe, they won’t hurt you. I ask you to do the same.”

“...fine,” he grants. His eyes turn back to me. I notice hesitation in him.“You put on makeup.” 

“Yes, just for you. Do you like it?”

“You…look good.”

I grab his hand. “I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes and follow me.”

I practically pull Kris to the bathroom, where I make him sit on the edge of the bathtub.

“What are you trying to do, little demon?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise,” I reply while I take the palette I bought the other day. I start putting makeup on his face, I chose a wonderful golden eyeshadow for him. I admire my work.

“You are otherworldly, ljubavi . Open your eyes.”

Kris opens his eyes and looks in the mirror. I observe his reaction: I can read astonishment in his face.

“Gold is your colour. It suits you perfectly.”

“I-It does,” he whispers.

I smile and kiss him on the cheek. “We can go, then. I have other surprises for you, my angel.”

Our first stop is at a wonderful restaurant where we had already eaten so many times because it’s Kris’ favourite. I let him order whatever he wants and then pay for the whole dinner. We talk about many topics, but Kris is weirdly more silent than usual.

“Is everything ok, ljubavi ?” 

“Yeah, sure, don't worry. I…had a rough day in Heaven, that's all.”

I smile fondly at him, then gently grab his hand and slowly stroke its back.

“Now it's time for you to relax, then. Enjoy this night out.”

Our eyes lock. I see him relaxing a bit, the shadow of whatever happened retreating.

Once dinner is finished, we take a long walk into the city centre. It's almost summer, the temperatures are pleasant, so many other humans are around. We blend in, looking like a proper couple, even because we are holding hands.

When we arrive at our final destination of the night, I bring Kris to the top of a building, so we can be alone and closer to the sky, his home.

“Why did you bring me here?” Kris asks.

I shake one hand in the air, around us many candles appear and some slow music starts spreading, embracing us. I turn towards my angel and offer him my hand.

“Would you like to dance with me, Kris?”

He looks at me, confused, but then takes it. I lay my other hand on his waist and smile at him. We start dancing, slowly. My angel is a bit embarrassed, but he tries to follow my lead.

“Just let the music flow over you. Hear it inside of you and allow it to take control over your body,” I whisper to him with a tender voice.

A few seconds later Kris is more relaxed and we are dancing more fluidly, following the rhythm and the melody. I can’t stop smiling while I look at my angel. He’s so beautiful, so ethereal, so perfect. I can see stars reflecting into his eyes, an entire galaxy in which I could lose myself, bewitched by its beauty.

We keep dancing along with the music, but the more we dance, the more I see a shadow coming back in Kris’ eyes, until he leaves my hands and takes two steps back.

“We can’t go on doing this, Bojan.”

“Why not? I don’t understand.”

“Because we can’t! You are a demon, and I’m an angel. We are not supposed to…mingle.”

“We are not mingling, ljubavi . This is a romantic date between two creatures who have feelings for each other.”

I grab the angel's hands and look him in the eyes.

“Kris, I'm not the monster Heaven teaches you to despise. You saw me, you got to know me.”

“You are still a demon, Bojan, no matter how you behave or what you do.”

“And so? What does it change between us?”

“I'm a freaking angel! We are supposed to fight each other, not…doing this, dancing alone like two teenagers in love!”

“Only because we are not human teenagers? Because we come from two different places? Because others tell us that we should hate each other?” I clutch his hands between mine. “You know me,” I repeat. It’s the truth, we have been seeing each other for some months now. I bring one of his hands on my chest, right over my heart. “This heart is yours, ljubavi , and no one else’s.”

“Bojan, this is wrong .”

“Kris, I love you. What's wrong with that?” I feel my heart sink into my chest. “You…don't love me?”

“No, Bojan. I don’t love you. Let’s stop pretending.”

My heart stops beating in that exact moment and I feel my head spin. The ground under my feet is crumbling. I’m falling even if I’m right in front of Kris, my angel. I struggle breathing.

“I-I’m not pretending.”

“Don’t lie, Bojan. You are a demon, all demons do is lie. You know who and what I am, you saw weakness in me because I didn’t kill you that day. You are corrupting me because you want me to lose my wings!”

“I know you are an angel and nothing else! I-I don't want you to lose your wings!” There’s panic in my voice, and maybe it’s showing on my face too. “I’m not lying!”

“You want to bring me to the path of perdition! You want me to fall, just like Lucifer.”

I let Kris' hands go and recoil, stuttering. My heart is clenched, it can’t beat.

“I-I’m not, Kris. I-I don’t want to-”

“Stop lying!” He shouts and his eyes begin shining out of celestial power. “You are a filthy demon. You don’t change, you just want to destroy us.”

I recoil again, scared, I even fall on the ground. I stand up then turn and run away as fast as I can. Tears sting my eyes violently, they want to come out and a few seconds later they manage to do so. My makeup is for sure ruined and dripping down my face. 

I feel like an idiot. I hoped that Kris would be different, but what was I thinking? He's an angel, those creatures are heartless killers when it comes to demons like me. Their hatred for us is blind, almost innate. I just got another proof.

Nace and Jure were right. Angels and demons are not meant to be together. Then why did I, a demon, fall in love with an angel? If we are supposed to be mortal enemies, then why was I destined to lose my reason for a celestial creature that would slaughter me just because I am what I am? Just why? Will I ever get an answer? 

I’ve been locked in my room in a building in Hell for…who knows how much time. I don’t want to see anyone, neither Nace nor Jure. I keep crying, stopping the tears coming out of my eyes is difficult, or dare I say even impossible. My heart is shattered.

Why are demons born with such intense feelings? Why can’t we control them like angels do? Or are we cursed to be dominated by our emotions exactly because angels don’t have them?They teach us that the universe needs balance, so if angels can’t feel, someone else must feel double the time. 

I wrap my body with my arms, trying to look smaller. My tail is out, wrapped around my leg. It’s a pathetic endeavour to not feel so alone and abandoned. 

I wince when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I open my eyes and see Nace sitting by my side. He’s visibly worried.

“Bojči, what happened?”

I sob. “Y-you were right about him. He-he’s a heartless angel, just like anyone else of them,” I stutter, my voice is trembling.

Nace lays on my bed, facing me, then pulls me over to hug me. I plant my face against his chest. I feel his hand running up and down my back.

“Not every angel is heartless.”

“He is, Nace!” I shout, utter despair in my voice. “He is! I showed him my love and he accused me of trying to corrupt him! I-I gave him my whole heart and he laughed at me, he stabbed it with his ice dagger and killed me-” I stop. I can still hear his words in my mind. “H-He called me a filthy demon, Nace. After all I did for him and showed him, I-I’m still a filthy demon to him.”

My friend says nothing, he just stays there and cuddles me, attempting to make me feel a little bit better. 

And since that day I kind of started feeling better. Well, it’s more of a euphemism. Let’s say that I was barely surviving. I came back to my chores as a demon, but now I don’t smile anymore, or very little. I’m quiet. I prefer to stay alone than in the middle of a crowd. With me I have a small notebook in which I write my thoughts, ideas, feelings, and also lyrics. I can’t be a singer in the human world, but no one can stop me from writing what I feel, what I experience. 

This is how I wrote a song about my angel and how I fell in love with him. It has a stupid name too. I can write good songs, but I’m not able to name them. I will find a better one, one day. Hopefully.

“What are you writing in that notebook?” Asks Jure while sitting next to me.

We are in the human world, more precisely in a park. We needed some fresh air and some sunlight. 

“It’s nothing…” I answer.

Jure leans forward to read. “Is this about him?”

I nod. There’s no one else in my mind. I don’t like his presence, he’s haunting me, my mind is working against me. 

“It’s really intense,” Jure whispers. “Do you really love him?”

I nod again. “I know I’m a stupid demon. I should move on, forget him, but I can’t. He doesn’t love me back, he said it,” I sigh. “I’m just hoping to forget him as soon as possible. Maybe writing this stuff will help me process this stupid feeling.”

“Love isn’t stupid!”

“My love is absolutely stupid. An angel, Jurček! I’m a freaking demon and I fell in love with an angel.”

“You are not the first one.”

“Yeah, and how many of them survived? Are they here to tell their love story? No, Jurček, because angels killed them. I’m lucky I’m still alive.”

Jure pushes me with his shoulder. “Don’t lose hope, Bojči. There’s always time to change.”

I look at him. I don’t believe his words. Months have passed since my last moment with my angel, his shiny eyes are still impressed in my mind. He was about to kill me that night. 

No, he won’t change. Kris is an angel, full stop. He’s born to despise demons like me. I just need to accept that, but it will take time.

Is this despair that is guiding my actions? Possibly. Will I regret my decisions? Almost certainly. But if I can’t be with my angel, then I’d rather be dead, maybe slaughtered by him directly. That would be pretty ironic, wouldn’t it? A demon executed by the angel he’s fallen in love with. There’s poetry behind all of this. Maybe demons will use me as an example to the younglings to warn them to not fall in love with angels if they want to live.

I tried to forget him, move on, but every time I close my eyes, I see him. He's haunting me. And with him also the lyrics of the song I wrote for him. 

I’m in the middle of an abandoned industrial area. I prepared an amplifier with a microphone and a computer. I recorded some music for my song and I will perform it for the first (and last) time here, hoping that my angel is listening to me and will come to…I don’t know, to do anything. I’m ready for whatever he will decide to do to me. Included death.

I test the volume and the music. Everything sounds good, so I play the music and I start singing, looking directly at the sky.

“ Stolicu primakni, ruku mi dotakni, noćas ti si moja muza, ja u ritmu tvoga bluza ću da plešem bez prestanka .”

Nothing. The sky is blue, there’s not a single cloud, not a single sign of feathered wings. I continue singing.

“ Soba nam je mala. Ja ko pijana budala, a ni čaše nisam popio. Ja mislim da sam se zaljubio u tebe. Baš ja, koji nisam verovao da za nekim biću lud. Za tebe, kao u pesmama i filmovima ljubavnim, staviću zvuk .”

Still nothing. But I won’t lose hope, I will keep singing for him. He will show up, eventually. I just need a sign, Kris, please, I’m begging you.

“ Samo se okreni, baci pogled prema meni. Preći će tišina sama kilometre među nama dok jednom srce otkuca .”

Now it’s again time for the refrain. Some tears started running down my face, but I continue singing, I must, even if he won’t appear. I need to take these feelings out of my heart or it will explode. Maybe it will be my heart to kill me and not my angel.

“ Soba nam je mala. Ja ko pijana budala, a ni čaše nisam popio. Ja mislim da sam se zaljubio u tebe. Baš ja, koji nisam verovao da za nekim biću lud. Za tebe, kao u pesmama i filmovima ljubavnim, staviću zvuk .”

I see something in the sky, then the clear sound of wings hits me. I lower my eyes and I find Kris right in front of me. I see his three pairs of wings. A seraph, I should have guessed. Of course, I fell in love with one of the most powerful angels in the sky. When I do something, it’s always something big or I’m not happy with the result.

I kneel in front of him. Now I’ll sing the last part of my song.

“ Ne palite još svetla, još samo jedan tren da se nagledam lepote te. Ne palite još svetla. Ne prizivajte dan. Spasite me, smislite neki plan. Ako svane sunce, ostaću sam .”

The music stops. I’m looking at my angel, finally here for me. I’m breathing deeply, my heart is racing in my chest. My hand that’s holding the microphone is shaking. I’m afraid of what might happen, but at the same time I’m relieved. 

“You came,” I whisper.

“You called.”

Silence falls again between us. Kris slowly approaches, his facial expression is cold, hiding every emotion. I have pure angelic power in front of me, a deadly machine trained to kill my kind, and I’m looking at him in adoration.

“You know I should kill you right now because you are on Earth and not in Hell, right?”

“Then do it. I won’t fight, I won’t run away. If I can’t be with you, I’d rather be dead.”

Kris averts his eyes and presses his lips together, then talks. 

“You are an idiot, Bojan.”

“Yeah, I know, ljubavi . Love made me lose my mind in a way I didn’t think possible.”

“You said that in the song.”

I chuckle. “Maybe it’s just one of the many flaws that make us demons so imperfect in front of you angels. I was so unlucky to fall in love with you, but I don’t consider myself unlucky. I had the best moments of my life with you, I don’t want to change this for anything else in this world, not even a place in Heaven, if this means that I will lose my ability to love so strongly.”

I let the microphone fall on the ground and grab Kris’ sword, he has it in his hand, then I lay his sharp point right on my heart.

“You are here for this, no? Killing another impure soul that doesn’t follow the rules.”

Kris looks at me, finally. I smile, those eyes are so cold and so beautiful at the same time.

“Don’t make me do this, Bojan.”

“It’s ok, ljubavi . It’s ok. It’s…it’s your nature, you have been trained to do this your whole life.”

My voice trembles with emotions. Tears keep running down my face. No, I realise I’m not ready to die. I want to live, to be with him, but I know I can’t. It’s not allowed.

I feel the point of his sword pressed against my chest. In a few seconds it will reach my heart, and it will stop beating. I close my eyes.

But nothing happens. I’m still here, alive, breathing. I hear a metal sound against the ground, then two hands cup my face and I feel warm and soft lips pressed on mine.I open wide my eyes. Kris is kneeling on the ground in front of me and he’s kissing me.

I close my eyes again. I kiss him back, desperate to feel him, to make him feel my love through that act. I gently grab his wrists. 

When we interrupt the kiss, I touch Kris’ forehead with mine. I keep my eyes closed, trying to process what just happened.  

“Please, let it be real,” I whisper, without even realising it. “Please, please, let it be real.”

Kris chuckles. “It’s real, Bojan.”

I open my eyes and part a bit from him, just to look him in the eyes. “Real-real kind of way or…real-I’m-in-some-sort-of-Heaven-for-demons-because-I’m-dead kind of way?” I ask.

My angel gently strokes my cheeks, then leans forward to kiss me again. 

“This kind of way, my little demon,” he whispers against my lips. I shiver thanks to that lovely nickname. I hate being called little because it reminds me of my lack of height, but I’d let Kris call me whatever he wants, just to hear his voice again and again.

“I’m your little demon, then?”

Kris nods while looking me in the eyes. He caresses my lower lip with his thumb. His touch is so gentle, shivers run down my spine again.

“What made you change your mind?”

“Your song. I had feelings for you, they developed pretty early, but I…wasn’t acknowledging their existence because I never had the chance to fall in love with someone.”

I jump on Kris to hug him, sending us both falling to the ground, so I end up on top of him. I burst out laughing.

“Well, now you have someone right here.”

My tail appears behind me and shakes in the air, showing my happiness. I kiss him on the cheek, then giggle when I see him blushing. A couple of tears run down my face, but this time they are out of pure and simple joy.

* * *

I've been a demon my whole life. I grew up fearing angels, but nothing could have prepared me for what fate had planned for me. I fell in love with Kris, an angel, a seraph. Our relationship began with the worst scenario possible, with him trying to kill me. And yeah, I might be dumb, because I fell in love with him in that moment, but now we are happy together. And I wouldn’t change a thing about us.

Heaven and Hell finally united thanks to the love between an angel and a demon.

[sparklz02]

Is He Gay? Part 2

Tags: Fluff (diabetes killer all throughout)

A/N: let’s pretend that I didn’t post in the past…idk how many months it has been oops-

Anyways college has been rough (if you know you know) and I also have wips that desperately need my attention ahaha-

part 1

“Why are we doing this again?”

Lyney chuckles softly as he leads you into a twirl, “Because you agreed to this.”

You pout as you allow him to continue with the lead. He led the dance with grace and expertise and following his steps wasn't that difficult. Right?

“Oh my, I believe that’s the 30th time you’ve stepped on me so far, correct~?” He asks slyly.

You roll your eyes at the exaggerated claim. “That was actually the 7th time.”

“Oh is that so?” He asks cooly before bringing you back close to him. “How can you be so sure that it was the 7th?”

The corner of your lips tug upwards slightly as you counter smugly, “How can you be sure it was the 30th?”

He chuckles softly and says, “Touché.”

As the slow dance continues, Lyney never removes his gaze away from your eyes which makes you flustered. You refuse to meet his adoring gaze and instead settle for staring daggers to his chest with a pout.

He notices this behavior and finds amusement. Several attempts he has done to make you look at him as he leads the dance. He found it funny how you can be so brave and upfront one moment and the next completely shy and flustered whenever he manages to make your heart skip a beat.

Lyney finally does a bold move. He shifts his left arm away from your right hand and brings it down below your waist. You finally meet his eyes after he does this and open your mouth to ask, “Lyney what are y—”

He cuts you off successfully by grabbing your right thigh, holding your waist tightly, and bringing you down for a dip. Afraid that he might drop you, you quickly hold onto his shoulders tightly.

Lyney chuckles at your reaction and speaks softly, “Do you really think I’ll let you fall?”

You smack his shoulders gently and reprimand him, “You could've given me a warning you know? What if you dropped me?”

He maintains the position for a bit longer and teases, “As if I’ll let that happen~. I’m hurt that you don’t trust me.”

“Oh I trust you Lyney.” You assure him. Moving your head towards the direction of the dancing meka you add on, “I just wasn’t expecting you to deter from what the dancing meka are doing.” You shift your gaze away from the meka and back to Lyney, “Surely you have a reason for this unnecessary move?”

He was taken aback by your question and looked away nervously. He quickly changed expressions with a beaming smile and asked, “You still never told me your reasoning as to why you believed I was gay.”

“Don’t you dare dodge my question Lyney.” You deadpanned.

He tilts his head to the side, maintaining his smile, “I have no idea what you are talking about~.”

Before you could refute his claim, he brings you back up slowly and resumes the slow dance. You sigh in defeat and only allow him to continue being the lead of this dance, opting to enjoy it rather than poking each other with questions.

After a few more minutes of slow dancing, Lyney does another bold move. He grabs your waist securely on both sides and sensing he is going to do something insane again, you hold onto his shoulders for dear life. He smiles softly at you before lifting you up in the air, twirling around before gently placing you down to the ground and resuming the dance again.

“You’re quite the romantic aren’t you~?” You ask in a playful tone.

Lyney responds with a smile, “Only for you, mon amour~.”

“Such a smooth talker indeed.”

The dance finally comes to an elegant end. Lyney offers his right arm for your left to cling onto. Scratch that, he didn’t even wait for you to accept; he clings his arm with yours and happily takes you on a stroll around the Opera Epicles.

“Sooo what's the schedule after the stroll?”

Lyney smiles brightly at your question. He declares dramatically, “The finale of this date will be at Hotel Debord of course!” He offers you a single rainbow rose with his free hand, “Don’t tell me you forgot~?”

You grabbed the rose and twirled it slowly between your fingers. “If anything I was worried you forgot.” You quip back.

“Oh dear, looks like I must repay you for the worry I’ve caused!” He says dramatically.

You raise a brow in confusion. You shake your head slowly followed with a soft sigh, “You know there’s no need? Besides this is all just friendly banter—”

He cuts you off swiftly by grabbing your chin gently, moving it to face him and tilt upwards slightly. A comfortable silence envelopes the both of you. The only present sound was the flow of water emitting from the fountain of lucine.

Lyney brings his face closer to yours very slowly, gauging your reaction closely before closing his eyes shut as he gets closer. You prepare yourself and also close your eyes shut as you wait expectantly…

Suddenly, Lyney’s hat begins to shake uncontrollably. You both open your eyes and Lyney begins to frantically hold down his hat but unfortunately…

“No, no, no! This wasn’t part of the—”

His hat flings into the air and three pigeons are freed. They flew into the air as the hat dropped with a light thud; the pigeons flew around the hat before landing beside it and looking at Lyney with curious gaze.

You watch as Lyney scratches his head in embarrassment. He walks toward the pigeons and hat and bends down to grab it. He dusts off any specs of dirt that was available and gestured for the pigeons to fly back inside.

Once the pigeons are back inside, he turns around to meet your figure and sheepishly stretches out his hat, “Tada~?”

The attempts at stifling your laughter were futile. You covered your lower face with your hands as you tried so hard to not laugh at poor Lyney for whatever flashy magic he had slotted for last.

“Did you—, did you really have another trick up your sleeve? Or in this case, hat?”

He covers his embarrassed expression with his hat and mutters something beneath his breath. Probably cursing the universe or something for the terrible luck.

As you continue to laugh at the funny predicament, Lyney walks over to you and once again grabs your chin gently, successfully silencing your laughter. You see it now, red tinted cheeks and an adorable pout. Without waiting for another teasing jab, Lyney swiftly seals your lips with his.

You did not expect him to kiss you after the first failed attempt but you kissed back nonetheless. His lips were soft and warm, pressing softly against yours with the utmost care in all of Teyvat.

Several seconds or maybe minutes? Who knows, the concept of time has been thrown out of the window but after some time, you both finally separate yourselves.

You touch your lips before turning away in embarrassment. You hear Lyney chuckle and he wraps his arm around your waist as he places his head on your shoulder. You refuse to meet his face as he tries so hard to make you look at him as he chuckles at your stubbornness.

He finally resorts to whispering something in your ear…

.

.

.

“Still believe that I’m gay~?”

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

the satanic rites of eddie munson (chapter 3)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Female Cheerleader!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Read on AO3

Summary:

Eddie was just trying to have a normal Thursday when some band from out of town decides he’d make an excellent virgin sacrifice for their get-famous-quick plan.

Except he’s not a virgin, and the ritual unleashes something much more sinister that lives in him now, hungry for flesh and possessive of you, the pretty cheerleader he’s always been drawn to.

Which means anyone that touches you? Needs to die.

Inspired by the movie Jennifer's Body.

Additional tags: graphic depictions of blood and violence, gore, other demon activities, making out, dirty talk, pet names, dry humping

Eddie struggles against the rope binding him to the tree as the absolute nutcase in front of him takes a step closer.

“We found this book, right? Old as shit, practically falling apart, but it’s got a really interesting section on wish fulfillment,” he says, crouching so that he’s eye level with Eddie. He places the tip of the dagger beneath his chin. “All we gotta do is spill the blood of a virgin on a full moon and all our dreams will come true.”

Eddie pauses in his struggle. “What makes you think I’m a virgin?”

“You spent twenty minutes going on about your stupid little board game. It doesn’t take a genius.”

“But—“

“Shut up.” The tip of the blade digs deeper into Eddie’s throat. “Mike, start the incantation.”

________

This has arguably been the best few days of Eddie’s life. He’s given you a ride home from school every day, relishing in the opportunity to spend time with you outside of the five to ten minutes he gets before the first period bell. He’s introduced you to Metallica and Dio and Black Sabbath, and now when you get in his van your first task is switching his tapes around for the one you want. He learns you’re an avid reader and love romantic comedies. You’re a cheerleader at your mom’s insistence. You want to major in nursing when you graduate and go to college. You have a garden at home that you like to spend time in, though you haven’t really gotten the hang of growing much besides one thriving basil plant.

Of course everything has to inevitably come crashing down.

By the following Monday, the hunger is back, a sharp pain in his abdomen that can’t be mitigated by anything, no matter how much he eats. His teeth and jaw ache with the need to rip and maim and kill. His skin feels too tight for his skeleton. His eyes burn and the shadows beneath them are more prominent.

You start to notice around Thursday. In class, you give him a concerned glance every time he shifts in his seat, unable to sit still. When he bounces his foot, you place a warm palm on his knee to stop him. The brief touch centers him, at least for the rest of class.

But once you’re out of his sight, the agitation returns ten fold.

In the halls and at lunch, he seeks you out. A brush of your shoulder, a smile from you when you catch him staring - anything to quiet that grating voice in his head telling him it’s time to feed.

At lunch on Friday, he watches you stand up from your table and throw away your trash. He expects you to sit back down, since there’s nearly twenty minutes left in the lunch period, but you surprise him by leaving, backpack slung over your shoulder as you push through the heavy metal doors.

With little thought, he’s out of his seat and following after you. He vaguely registers Jeff calling out for him but chooses to ignore it as he leaves the noise of the cafeteria for the blessed quiet of the empty school halls.

Your footsteps echo on the linoleum and Eddie follows the sound. You lead him to the library and he watches you walk past the old librarian, Mrs. Lewis, with a sweet smile. Students aren’t supposed to be in the library during lunch period, but it doesn’t surprise him that you’ve got the batty old woman wrapped around your finger.

Eddie, on the other hand, probably has a lifetime ban from her and a WANTED poster with his picture hanging in her office. He’s going to need a bit more finesse to get inside.

He waits patiently, watching the circulation desk. After what feels like ages, Mrs. Lewis stands with her coffee cup in hand and heads to her office for an afternoon pick-me-up.

Eddie opens the door quietly and darts inside, heading deeper into the stacks to look for you. The act of searching for you appeals to this darker side of his brain, the one that wants to hunt you down as you run through the trees, your fear rolling off of you in waves like the sweetest scent.

A shiver runs down his spine at the thought.

He’s glancing down every aisle until he finally spots you, up on the tips of your toes trying to reach a book on a higher shelf. Your little cheerleading skirt rides up with the movement, exposing more of your thighs and as you stretch your arms, your top lifts to show a tantalizing strip of your stomach.

When you notice him at the end of the aisle, you flash him a bright smile that spurs him into motion. He steps up behind you, pressing closer than what’s absolutely necessary, and reaching above you to grab the spine of the book your fingers had been unable to reach.

“The Encyclopedia of Wild Cats,” Eddie reads from the cover. “Just a bit of light reading?”

You blush, holding a hand out for the book. “Just….getting ahead in biology this semester.”

Eddie tilts his head. “You’re in chemistry this semester. Not biology.”

“Right,” you reply lamely, staring at the book in your hands. “Okay, fine, I was just looking up the migration patterns of mountain lions. It’s just…it feels like they’re not looking into all the possibilities. I mean, we don’t have mountain lions here, much less mountain lion attacks.”

“I think you’re just feeling a little paranoid, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers teasingly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. He fails to mention that the very thing you should be most afraid of is standing right in front of you.

Your eyes go wide. “You really think so?”

“Let the good ol’ boys over at Hawkins police department worry about it,” he urges, pulling the book back from your grasp and sliding it into place on the shelf. You nod, eyes flicking between the book and Eddie’s face.

“Okay,” you whisper back.

________

Eddie steps closer, the movement urging you back until you’re pressed against the stack of books behind you. He lifts his arm, placing his hand on one of the shelves above your head, effectively caging you in. This close, you can see how bloodshot his eyes are, how dark the circles beneath them have become. How pale he looks.

“Eddie, are you okay?” You ask. He smirks.

“Never been better,” he whispers.

You swear his gaze lingers on your lips. Your heart hammers in your chest as he stands there, pressed so close to you yet not nearly close enough. You swipe your tongue across your bottom lip and watch as his eyes darken following the motion.

His head tilts closer still, and you swear that this time maybe he’ll kiss you. Your eyes flutter shut in anticipation.

Then the bell rings.

The sudden noise startles you so much that you jump against the bookcase, rattling the contents. Eddie places a hand on your shoulder to steady you, the heat of it on your exposed skin feeling like a brand.

You can’t look away from Eddie’s deep brown eyes. You can hear students entering the library for their free period, but it feels like you’re in your own little world with him staring at you like this.

You swallow nervously. “I gotta—“

“Right, yeah,” Eddie murmurs, stepping back. You slip past him, ready to head to your next class, but he calls out your name. “Would you…wanna hang out? Sometime?”

“I’d like that,” you reply. He smiles, his face lighting up with it and temporarily washing away that bone deep exhaustion that’s been painting his features for the past couple of days. “Tonight? They canceled the game with everything going on.”

“I’m free tonight,” he confirms.

“Great!” You reply, a bit too enthusiastically. The warning bell rings, breaking your attention from Eddie. “I should—“

“Get to class, princess. I’ll see you after school,” he tells you.

With one last lingering look at him, you turn to leave, a little extra sway in your hips and bounce in your step.

________

Eddie sits on the toilet in the boy’s bathroom, rolling papers and freshly ground weed balanced on his knee. He’s skipping his last period, rolling himself a joint in the hopes that it might take the edge off of this pain in his gut.

The door bursts open, and a familiar pompous voice echoes in the tiled room. “Did you get the stuff?” Jason asks.

Eddie quietly lifts his feet from the floor to keep them out of sight as a second voice responds, “Yeah, man. Got a bottle of whiskey my old man won’t miss. And my brother left me a six pack last time he visited.”

“One bottle of whiskey and a six pack is not enough for a fucking party, Alex,” Jason snaps. “We need a keg.”

“Bruce will get one for us,” the third person says, his voice soothing like he’s calming a wild animal. “He’s never failed us before.”

“Good, good,” Jason replies. “Tell Bruce to drop it off at the diner.”

Eddie tilts his head in interest. The diner in question, Benny’s Burgers, has been abandoned since it closed down last year. It’s since been claimed for parties by the Hawkins High elite. He’s been to a few gatherings there, mostly to empty out his lunchbox of party favors and pad his wallet with some spending money.

But the other thing about the old diner is that it’s near the edge of town, surrounded by woods.

Eddie smiles.

________

Eddie drops you off at home after school, just as he has every day for the last week. This time before you open the door of the van, you ask, “So, you’ll come pick me up later, right?”

He nods. “What time, sweetheart?”

“Best to wait until my parents go to sleep. How about nine? They usually head to bed around 8:30.”

“I’ll be here.” He leans across you, his arm brushing against your chest as he pulls the latch to your door. Your breath stutters as he draws back, that same arm purposely dragging across the hard points of your nipples. “See you soon.”

With a nervous swallow, you hop out of the van.

________

Eddie parks his van at the edge of the woods near Benny’s Diner. He kills the engine and gets out, assessing. Distantly, he can hear the sound of Jason’s voice and those of his friends replying to him, but it doesn’t sound like the party is in full swing yet. Likely won’t be for a couple more hours.

He creeps closer through the trees until he can spot Jason and his two lackeys from earlier. A fourth man wheels a silver keg into the dilapidated building before accepting cash from Jason with a grunt.

“Did one of you get cups?” Jason asks. The two jocks glance at each other. “Seriously? Do I have to do everything myself for it to get done right?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. Jason needs to get off his fucking high horse.

Good thing he plans to knock him down.

Jason orders the two idiots to go get supplies while he gets the keg tapped and ready. Eddie watches them get into the car parked in the overgrown parking lot, speeding away with a blast of music from the stereo.

Eddie walks out from the tree line, hands shoved in his pockets. Jason must hear the crunch of gravel beneath his sneakers because he glances over his shoulder, smile dropping when he takes in Eddie. He drops the keg hose and turns to face him.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Jason demands.

“Heard there was a party. Doesn’t seem like it, though. All your little friends busy?” Eddie teases. He watches with glee as Jason’s face begins to turn red. “You know, you got a real anger issue, Jason. Bet I got something that could help that.”

The blonde’s fists tighten, jaw tensing. Eddie steps closer.

“Might even got something to keep you from shootin’ off too fast. You know that’s the number one cause of failed relationships, right? Sexual frustration.”

That must hit the mark. Jason launches forward, fists swinging, one colliding with Eddie’s cheek and sending a jolt of pain through his jaw. Blood drips hot down the side of his face. He dodges the next swing, diving for Jason’s midsection and tackling him to the ground.

He wrestles with him until the blonde is pinned him. Eddie wraps a hand around his throat, leaning his weight into it. Jason’s legs flail behind him and his fingers claw into the leather of his jacket. He leans closer.

“I can smell your fear, Jason,” Eddie says casually. Jason’s eyes go wide and he struggles to gasp for air. “I’ve been so patient waiting for my meal. I thought it would have been more…rewarding. Maybe I should let you fight just a little bit more, huh?”

Eddie releases his hold on Jason’s throat. He gasps, coughing on the sudden lungful of air before shifting his weight and scrambling from beneath Eddie.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jason snaps.

“Less questions, more running. Come on now, I’ve got a date I’m late for,” Eddie replies. Jason takes a couple stumbling steps backward, tripping over his feet in his haste.

Eddie waits until Jason disappears from view through the trees before walking at a leisurely pace in the same direction. He whistles casually as he follows the panicked breaths of his prey.

He checks his watch. It’s nearing 9:30, which means he’s already late to pick you up and people are bound to be showing up and expecting a party soon.

A twig snaps nearby and Eddie turns to follow the sound. A body collides with his, sending him rolling across the forest floor. Another punch lands to the side of his eye, making him hiss.

“Motherfucker,” he snaps, grappling until he’s out from beneath Jason. The blonde dives forward with another punch.

But he sees it coming this time.

Eddie grabs Jason’s outstretched arm, tugging until he hears the sick pop of bone leaving socket. He collapses with a shout, holding his disabled arm to his body defensively. Eddie kicks at his injured shoulder to leave him flat on his back.

He crouches beside the writhing man. “Do you know why this is happening, Jason?”

“F-fuck you, you freak ,” Jason spits.

“It’s because you touched something that belongs to me. And I don’t like to share.” Eddie’s jaw clicks as his teeth sharpen to dangerous points. He swipes a clawed hand across Jason’s abdomen, ripping through skin and muscle and fat like paper. A scream lodges in the boy’s throat, replaced by the gurgle of blood as he chokes.

Eddie’s hand slides up behind his rib cage, fingers curling around the faintly beating organ and tearing it out. The light goes out from Jason’s eyes, his body going limp as blood continues to pool around him.

Eddie sinks his teeth into his heart, blood dripping down his chin as he feasts.

And feasts.

And feasts.

_________

You glance at the clock, biting at the skin of your thumb in annoyance. It’s past ten, making Eddie over an hour late to your plans. Your parents are fast asleep, the house quiet save for the hum of the air conditioning as it kicks on.

You’re annoyed, bordering on angry, with a side of worry. Part of you wants to chew him out for ditching you but a bigger part wants to make sure nothing bad has happened to him, be it this mysterious mountain lion or something else.

You leave your room with quiet footsteps, slipping out of the front door with a soft click. You follow the shadows around the back of the house to the bike your mom uses for her weekly group rides with her fitness pals.

Rolling it out to the sidewalk, you hop on once you’re a greater distance from your home. You know Eddie lives in the Forest Hills trailer park with his Uncle Wayne. He’s mentioned it a couple of times during your rides together. You don’t have a plan, exactly. You’re fueled by feminine rage and fear, not logic.

You slow your pedaling as you make it past the front sign marking the start of the trailer park. It’s dark, but a few of the homes have porch lights on that help you see. It’s not long before you spot a familiar van parked outside a worn down trailer.

Okay. You’re officially fueled more by rage than fear.

You toss the bike in the grass and stomp up the steps, banging on the door with your fist. “Eddie! Open the door!”

“Shut up!” A woman’s rough voice calls out.

“Make me!” You snap back right as the door opens, your fist colliding with a shirtless chest rather than a metal door.

You look up and gasp. Eddie’s gripping the doorframe, knuckles bruised in a shade of purple that matches the mottled skin around his right eye. There’s a small cut on his jaw and blood has collected in the corner of his lip.

“Sweetheart, now’s not a good—“

“Oh my god! What happened to you?” You shove your way past him into the trailer despite his objections. Your fingers skim the bruise around his eyes.

“You should see the other guy,” Eddie jokes, tilting his head slightly into your palm.

“Do you have a first aid kit or something?”

“Under the kitchen sink.”

You spot the kitchen behind him and head for the sink, kneeling on the cracked linoleum to open the laminate cabinet door. There’s a bottle of bleach, a mouse trap, and the promised first aid kit amongst the contents. You grab the box and stand, shaking it at Eddie.

“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.” As if knowing arguing won’t work, Eddie surrenders, leading you to the back of the trailer into what you assume is his room. It’s messy and cluttered, but so very Eddie.

There’s posters lining most of the wall, along with a handmade Corroded Coffin flag pinned above a dresser. He has a guitar hanging on the wall, as well as an acoustic one set in a stand in the corner. The bed is messy and rumpled, pillows smooshed against the wall and blankets balled up across the surface.

“Sorry, would have cleaned if I’d known I’d be having company,” Eddie comments quietly.

“No, I like it. It’s very you.” You set the box of supplies on a clear patch of desk.

“Messy?”

“More like…subversive. Now sit,” you command, rifling through the contents of the box. There’s a bottle of rubbing alcohol and some gauze, a few band aids, and some butterfly stitches.

Eddie laughs as he takes a seat. “Subversive?”

“Yeah, you know, it’s all yours. It’s not pristine. You don’t have the same blue plaid bedspread as all the other guys.” You pour some alcohol onto a gauze pad, patting it gently to the cut on his jaw. He leans away with a hiss.

“Seen a lot of blue plaid bedspreads, then?” He grabs your waist with both hands, fingers wrapping into the grooves of your ribs as you continue to clean his wounds. “Because I don’t know if I like that.”

“Like what?”

He stares up at you with those big brown eyes, and for a moment you wonder if that bruise has already faded some. His hands slide to your hips, squeezing, pulling you closer between his spread legs.

You’re suddenly hyper aware of how close you are and how much of him is on display. Your own hands land on his bare shoulders to steady yourself. The heat of him is nearly stifling.

“I don’t think I like the idea of you seeing a lot of other bedspreads,” Eddie rumbles, voice rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I uh…haven’t. My mom just…gets a lot of Macy’s catalogs,” you reply breathlessly.

He grins. He urges you forward, slipping a hand on the back of your thigh and lifting slightly to fold you into his lap. Your breath leaves you at the contact, the hard length of him unmistakable where it presses against your core.

He leans forward, lips ghosting over your neck. Your hips flex at the gentle touch and he groans, his breath hot against you as his mouth grows more insistent, teeth nipping and lips dragging deliciously.

“Eddie,” you whimper. His head lifts and he brings a hand to your jaw, gripping your chin to pull your mouth to his.

Christ. Christ. You’ve been kissed before, sure, but never like this . He controls everything, tilting your head with his hand and urging your mouth open with his tongue. The cold metal of his rings is a sharp contrast to his heat and you groan as his tongue tangles with yours.

His free hand slips beneath the waist of your jeans, fingers gripping roughly onto your ass and grinding you harder, faster against him. Your breath is coming in short pants as he drives you higher, a low growl rumbling through his chest. You can feel your muscles tightening, winding tighter in anticipation of your release.

And like he knows, like he’s more in tune with your body than you are, his hand leaves your jaw and tangles in your hair, pulling your head back with a sharp tug.

“That’s it, baby, let me see you,” Eddie says. “Let me see that pretty face when you cum.”

“Oh god,” you cry out, fingernails digging into Eddie’s shoulders and legs pressing tightly to his as you cum.

“No god here, princess,” Eddie says with a smirk. “Just me.”

“Just you? Christ, Eddie,” you reply breathlessly, giggling as you bury your head against his neck. “Did you—?”

“Don’t worry about me,” He shifts you gently from his lap, laying you back onto the mattress before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m gonna clean up real quick. Don’t go anywhere.”

You nod, burrowing into the blankets that smell like Eddie with a contented sigh.

_______

Eddie locks the bathroom door behind him and inspects his face in the mirror. The cut you’d been tending to is nothing more than a faint pink line. The bruise around his eye is more yellow than black and blue. He’s not sure how he’ll explain that if you ask.

He turns the water on and rubs a thumb against the corner of his lip to clean off the dried blood stuck there.

Then he gets to work scrubbing the rest of blood from beneath his fingernails while you wait for him.

[dreaming-of-mossballs]

Battle Scars - (Childe x Reader)

DISCLAIMER: This fic contains dark topics. I do not condone or romanticize self harm/suicidal ideology. I don’t write stuff like this often either. As someone who struggles with my own mental health, this was meant to be a comforting read. Please notify me if this is violating any rules and I’ll take it down immediately!

Summary: After a lousy night, you’re exhausted and forget to cover up the marks you made prior to waking up. Your roommate, Childe, spots them while making breakfast. He tries to comfort you as best he can. He is worried about you, after all.

▸ Genre: Hurt/Comfort, angst

▸ Pairings: Childe x gn!reader

▸ Word Count: 1.2k

▸ Tags: Childe/Tartaglia x reader, roommate!childe, angst, hurt/comfort, can be read as either platonic or romantic,

▸ Warnings: Topics of self hatred/self harm (does not specify where or go into detail), emotional turmoil, food mention

A/N: I literally don’t know what to call Childe he has THREE names. PROOFREAD BUT BADLY. I GET LAZIER THE FARTHER I GO

Remember, if you need help, call 988 or another available suicide hotline. Please take care everyone!

The mahogany floorboards creaked as you made your way to the kitchen, rubbing your eyes wearily. The warm morning light poured in through the windows of the apartment you shared with Childe, but it was anything but comforting.

You could smell blini cooking on the stovetop, the aroma of buckwheat wafting gently through the air (albeit your nose was still stuffed up from an intense crying session last night). Leaning on the doorframe, you gave your roommate a weak wave.

”Mornin’ comrade. Sleep all right?”

You yawned, shaking your head. Childe was pouring batter into a pan, a bowl of fresh strawberries sitting to his right. His ginger hair was almost glowing in the sunlight while he flipped the pancakes with an impressive amount of precision.

“ ts’ok. Tossed and turned the whole night,”

“You do look a little worse for wear. Sit down and I’ll grab you some tea,” he smiled.

“I can grab it myself, silly, I’m not THAT tired,” you chuckled softly, opening the cabinets and shuffling around for the box of tea leaves. The finest in Liyue, gifted to you by Zhongli. Turning around, box in hand, you noticed the sounds of the spatula had come to a halt.

Childe’s eyes had widened slightly, staring at the markings on your body. He quickly tore them away and back to you. You froze for a fraction of a second, feeling his gaze drilling holes into you.

The feeling of your heart beating in your throat was almost painful as you set the box down hurriedly. Your free hand fidgeted with the fabric of your clothing, trying to cover up the marks, but to no avail.

“You want any? I just… need to wash the teacups real quick,” you cleared your throat awkwardly.

He hadn’t moved an inch. His back was rigid, still gripping the pan. It looked like he was about to snap the handle off.

You resumed roaming about the kitchen, trying your best to pretend that you hadn’t noticed the look on his face, or that your knees were about ready to give out. You didn’t remember the last time you had eaten a proper meal either.

Pouring water into a teapot, you flinched as you heard him speak.

“(Y/N)… are you… doing all right?”

You waved your hand dismissively while setting the teapot down, flashing him a pitifully weak smile. The dark circles under your eyes didn’t help your case either.

“You really don’t have to lie to me, you know,” There was a hint of worry in his voice. He took a small step to face you, while you instinctively drew your hands closer to your chest.

“How— how long has this been going on for?” his expression was one of concern, which cut like daggers into your heart.

Suddenly the stinging of your wounds became much more noticeable.

“I… I don’t… I um—,“ your voice cracked slightly, eyes darting around the kitchen.

You continued to struggle for words but your breath kept catching in your throat. All you could offer was a small hiccup in response.

Leaning your elbows on the counter in exasperation, you rested your head in your hands. A tear fell down your right cheek, and then your left. You covered your mouth with your hand in order to stifle the sobs starting to escape your lips. With every jagged breath you drew in, your body trembled.

Childe hastily turned off the stove and rushed towards you. He placed a gloved hand on your shoulder as you clutched at your head.

“Hey, hey (Y/N) it’s okay—,”

“Archons, Ajax. I’m sorry— I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” you said between sobs.

“Nonono (Y/N)— I’m not mad or anything, I swear. I would never be mad about this. I’m just concerned about you,” he rubbed your arm gently. “I am your roommate, after all. What’s going on? Can you tell me?”

”I don’t— Ajax, I don’t know. My brain feels like it’s burning up sometimes.. there’s just too many things all at once. I’m so scared and stressed and sometimes I’m not even sure if I deserve the air I breathe. I don’t know why ANYONE bothers keeping me around— and— and—,”

You were cut off as another fit of hiccups shook your body. He looked at you with a pained expression.

“GODS, I am SO pathetic when I cry,” you said, rubbing your eyes frustratedly. “I sound like a blubbering idiot,”

Childe placed a hand on your other shoulder and turned you towards him, looking you dead in the eyes. His gaze was filled with nothing but kindness.

“That’s not true at all. You’re not pathetic, (Y/N). You are the farthest possible thing from pathetic,” he furrowed his eyebrows slightly.

“I just can’t believe you’ve been going through all of this. I had no idea. I wish I had realized sooner,”

“Ajax,” you whispered, “It’s not your fault. Not at all, actually. I know you care about me, but I… don’t exactly feel like I deserve to be worried about,” You laughed weakly, burying your head even further into your arms.

“Comrade… you don’t have to be so closed-up, you know. It’s ok to let people know if you’re going through something,” Childe murmured.

“You’re allowed to ask for help. That doesn’t mean you’re weak or pathetic. In fact…” he brushed his hand lightly over the marks.

“You’re as much a warrior as anyone else. These are your battle scars,” Childe said, gripping your hand tightly, “You’re fighting really hard, and I think you’re so incredibly strong for making it this far. I hope you understand that I want you to feel safe and supported, even if you don’t feel like you deserve it,”

“But you do. You really do. It just takes time to realize it. If you ever feel like you want to hurt yourself, come and get me. I’ll always be here to help if you need me, (Y/N). Always. Doesn’t matter when or where,”

You let out another shaky breath, wiping away your tears as Childe drew you into a hug. You melted into the warmth of his embrace, exhaling when he finally let go.

“Thank you, Ajax. I really, really needed to hear that,” he gave you a warm smile in return.

“Anything for you, comrade,”

“Well then, is there anything I can do for you right now?” he inquired, offering his arm to help you stand up. You took it gladly, picking up the box of tea leaves once again.

“Not that I can think of, but I appreciate the thought,” you replied, placing the teapot on the stove and lighting it.

“What about those? Do they… hurt at all?” he motioned to the marks, “We should clean them up so they heal properly,”

“Ah shit, I guess you’re right. They do kinda hurt,” you winced, “I guess the tea can wait. It’ll be ready by the time we’re done,”

You followed him to the bathroom, wiping your remaining tears away with the handkerchief his sister made him. He held the wad of bandages carefully while you wrapped yourself up. After you had been properly taken care of, you both headed back to the kitchen.

Breakfast that day felt different, the sunlight coming in through the windows reached you for the first time in a while. A great weight had been taken off your shoulders, as you felt like you finally had someone to rely on. With pancakes and tea as a bonus.

Even if it was only for a short while, all was right in your world again. And that was enough.

2023 - Oven-Mitt-On-A-Bookshelf - Do not repost/translate without my permission

[thegreatobsesso]

Word find tag (want, entire, empire, and wonderful)

I was tagged by my friend @oh-no-another-idea for this one :D

want

Callie POV

Corpseflower petals? Psshht.

Callie Ray could get anything she wanted, always could, long as she was willing to meet up with an anonymous psycho or two.

She and Bennett hopped the glorified ski lift together, which’d carry them all the way over the mountains they saw from Delaney’s windows and down into the neighboring valley. The lift ferried Delanians back and forth once a month so they could partake in the decadent delights of “town”.

Twelve years ago, that would’ve been sarcasm. It wasn’t anymore. She legit couldn’t wait.

They weren’t going just so she could shop. She salivated at the thought, even though Fisher Ridge was nothing more than one main strip of mom-and-pop stores. They were going because Bennett wouldn’t hear of having some apocalypse-mongoring Callie Ray fan anywhere near the castle.

(Dear steadfast disciple, she’d written. Your time has come. I’m in need of your services.)

entire

Riley POV

“We don’t need to kill our own food,” she snapped, closing the car door with too much force and jamming the keys into the ignition. “Chain stores do that for us nowadays.”

Nauxial bristled. Why are you so upset?

“Because this’ll make the local news. We just created an entire scene, for no reason whatsoever. What were you thinking?”

She wasn’t really asking but the answer spilled out anyway - an evening together, cooking and eating their kills. Him, tasting through her.

She could see the inspiration for the dinner: candelabras overflowing with years of melted wax, delicate silver knives and forks - the table settings, surely, of his childhood home. Animals on a platter with their eyes still in - the kinds of things he associated with an indulgent evening.

No - not just indulgent. Romantic.

A blaring horn. She was sitting here at a four-way stop, paralyzed. She shook the image free and drove, even as it crept through her like black mold.

empire kingdom (Congratulations for finding a word that was nowhere in my massive WIP, there aren’t many 😂)

Simon POV

That night, in an enclave off the graduate common area, Peter wrangled Callie into playing a game with them. One of those games Simon only loosely grasped, with kingdoms and castles and cones and whatnot. Again, he felt the urge to make himself scarce. Callie stared daggers of suspicion straight into his soul.

Be cool with her, Peter sent him quite deliberately. For me. It matters.

Well, he’d do just about anything for Peter, so he listened while he explained the rules to Callie, trying his best to commit the game’s mechanics to memory and glad of the distraction.

Callie seemed to listen the entire time, miraculously, but proved consistently at each turn she hadn’t taken in a single word. Could it be she was just interested in listening to him talk?

wonderful

Simon POV

“You underestimate the power of influence. If McKinnon tells the board to jump, you can bet they’ll ask how high,” Camilla chattered away pleasantly. “Besides, it’s high time outsiders started holding positions in these traditionally closed-off, magicians-only spaces, and I think he’ll agree. Doesn’t that just further the equality agenda you’re so excited over?”

“You’re just paraphrasing his speeches,” he countered, losing control of what he said and what he didn’t. “I can hear his voice in your head, dammit. Aside from your desperate desire for power do you even have one unique thought up there?”

That left her speechless, for one wonderful moment. His head ached with the pressure of how much more he wanted to say. Even with the Guiding Preservers, even with the Sword, he could find some shred of commonality. Even they believed in something. Even they had some sense of morality, twisted as it was, that extended past themselves.

I’m having one of those days where the reality that I’m writing an actual story hits me in a real way that just kinda blindsides me in a lovely way. Do you know what I mean? Like you look at what you’re doing and you’re just like, Oh, wow. I’m doing that. That’s MINE. It’s a happy feel. :D

Tagging @winterandwords, @dontjudgemeimawriter, @pertinax--loculos, @harps-for-days and @i-can-even-burn-salad with the new words wood(s), dark, ground and tree(s) :)

[dino-fart]

I just thought of something hilarious, what if Namor starts flirting with Dr Stranges apprentice since they may be in contact about artifacts that could literally destroy the world through dimensional rifts if not handled correctly. Dr strange goes into protective dad mode lol

Oooo hehehe!

You walked with Stephen to the shores. You wore a long sleeved blouse, jeans, and boots. Your hair was in a high ponytail and you held a small box in your hand. Stephen told you to stop and he walked further toward the shore. The waters parted and the great Talokan king Namor walked toward Stephen. 

“Quite an entrance.” Stephen remarked. 

Namor approached the sorcerer, “Stephen Strange. Have you found the box? I was able to find the dagger.” 

“Yes, my apprentice actually found it.” Stephen stepped back and gestured to you. 

You walked over to them and offered the box to Namor. Namor stared at you and gently took the box from your hands. “Thank you, my lady.” Namor said softly. 

You cheeks felt warm at his stare, “Take a picture it’ll last longer.” 

“Perhaps I could paint a picture? Of course my painting will not be able to match your beauty.” Namor said smoothly. 

You bit your lip and grinned at him, “You paint, huh? That sounds romantic.” 

“I can be very romantic, once I meet the right person.” Namor flirted. 

“Alright that’s enough. We have the pieces let’s get on with closing the rifts.” Stephen stepped in between you. 

You rolled your eyes and watched Namor walked back to the waters. “I will return with the dagger, wait here.” 

You nudged Stephen’s shoulder, “What the hell was that?” 

“What?” 

“That!” 

“You’re going to have to be more specific.” 

“Stephen...Can you not get in the way of the hot sea king flirting with me?” 

“I don’t think we can trust him just yet.” 

“And that’s why we’re helping him? Or do you mean trust him with emotions?” 

“I just think it would be complex relationship.” 

“Stephen, I appreciate the concern. But I’m a big girl, okay? Besides, if it goes south, I know how much you like saying ‘I told you so’.” You grinned. 

“I don’t enjoy saying it.” Stephen shook his head. 

“It’s okay dad I’ll be careful.” You rubbed his arm. 

Tagging: @starksbf​​, @strangelockd​​, @thealleydog​​, @wolfie-west​​, @k1mikoz​, @fizzybubbletea​, @pinkthick​, @silver-shadow​, @strangesthirdeye​, @mynamehasbeentakenbysomeperson, @lucimorningst4r, @evelyn-kingsley

[squidgamesmut]

Ali, Sang-woo & Gi-hun | A lesson about pleasure 🌶️

Prompt: Ever since you joined the team of Gi-hun, Sang-woo and Ali, neither of them has been able to keep their eyes off of you. Deciding that tomorrow's uncertainly is good enough of an excuse to have all of them, you have a rather unconventional request.

Word count: 4,6K

Tags: Degradation, foursome, oral, dom/sub

Requested? Yes @themindfulwriter16

Proofread? No

MINORS DNI

Ever since you joined the ragtag group of Players during the Tug-Of- War, something grew tense in the air amongst three of the men in the posse.

An unspoken feud came into existence the very moment you decided to make your allyship official, and neither of them had left your side ever since.

First there was Cho Sang-woo, Player 218, the person you deemed one of the strongest in the group if not the strongest. He was headstrong and intelligent, something you thought would come in handy in a situation like the one you were currently in. He was charming, though did not strike you as the type to settle down and have permanent relationships.

Then, Seong Gi-hun couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. In the short time that the Squid Game had been going on, you had seen him grow from the meek and clumsy man who provoked the gangster in the very first minute to a determined, kind friend. His kindness towards the old man warmed your heart, and you wondered what he truly was like in the outside world.

The third and final man who was starstruck with your presence was Ali Abdul. Sweet and unswervingly loyal, you had instantly figured. Large, warm eyes would meet yours occasionally, and you knew that every word that left his lips would be true. You wondered how he ended up here, for he didn’t seem the type to get himself in deep trouble.

So one evening, in between games and after dinner, you sat with the other women at the side. The annoying yapping of Han Mi-nyeo was something you had learnt to block out within an hour of knowing her, just letting her chatter whilst braiding her tangled hair as well as you could. A bit away sat the three men who had felt this undeniable attraction towards you, staring at you whilst glaring daggers amongst one another. It would have seemed like a romantic comedy if the environment had been any different, and you weren’t stupid to not notice.

“Aish! Don’t tug on my hair so firmly, that hurts!” Mi-nyeo whinged and showed you a deep frown. You muttered an apology and shifted a strand of hair so that it wouldn’t hurt her anymore. With a few swift movements of your fingers, you finished the braid, tying it up at the end with a worn-out band.

“Are you going to fuck one of them or what?” Mi-nyeo quizzed unabashedly whilst grabbing the bottom of her braid to inspect it, humming in satisfaction.

You blinked at her. “Excuse me?”

“Those Players over there. They’re practically undressing you with their eyes. Come on, who are you gonna fuck? The leader?”

Letting out a scoff, you shook your head. “You really are something.”

“I’m serious!” Mi-nyeo shrieked, turning towards you. “In this hell-hole you better take all the dick you can get! Even if you might end up regretting it.” She let out a sigh and looked across the room at Player 101, who had betrayed her earlier. “He’s an asshole, but it was fun whilst it lasted.”

You shook your head but could not fight a smile from forming. “Well, what do you suggest?”

Mi-nyeo puffed out her cheeks. “Well, I’m not sure. I wouldn’t fuck 199, so maybe 218? 456 seems like such a softie, like he wouldn’t know what to do with his prick!”

Had you met Mi-nyeo in real life, you were certain that you wouldn’t have been friends.

“I like all three of them,” you confessed, “So it’s difficult to choose.”

A laugh left Mi-nyeo’s throat - high-pitched and annoying you deeply. “Well then, that’s quite the predicament! Say, why don’t you just fuck all three of them at once? You never know what this place will bring, right? Tomorrow, we might all be dead for all we know. Just fuck them and get it over with. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You sighed and shrugged, biting your lip whilst looking at the three men one by one. Cho Sang-woo maintained eye-contact, slightly narrowed his gaze, tilting his head in a questioning way. Gi-hun blinked in confusion and looked away only to look back a second later, flustered by the contact. Ali averted his gaze at once, and you did not meet his eye again.

“Perhaps you’re right.” you acknowledged, “Might as well get everything I can.”

“Good luck!” Mi-nyeo said in a sing-song voice, “Let me know all the details!”

You stood and approached Sang-woo first, leaning closer towards him to whisper in his ear. “Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes.”

Not awaiting his reply, you stepped over to Gi-hun, who was playing with the hem of his tracksuit. “Gi-hun,” you whispered, causing him to look up at you with widened eyes. “Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes.”

Finally, you invited Ali as well, who was immediately frozen in place at your proximity and unexpected proposal. He meekly nodded, and you left the Players be, heading for the bathroom to prepare yourself as well as you could.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you fixed your hair as much as possible, checked your breath by blowing into your palms, and tugged down your shirt a bit to reveal a bit more cleavage. Smiling, you bit your lip, your heart beginning to race inside your chest. Were you really going to do this?

Behind you, the door opened and closed. Gi-hun stood with quivering legs, your gaze meeting him through the reflection of the mirror. You turned around and smiled at him.

“You wanted to see me?”

You opened your mouth to speak and acknowledge it, but just at that moment Ali walked in, short of breath, flushed from the obvious excitement that ran through him.

“Miss (Y/n), can I help you with anything? Is anything the matter?”

You smiled and shook your head. “No, not to worry. I ah, I just wanted to meet with you in private and--”

The door of the bathroom opened and shut one last time, and Cho Sang-woo strode to stand in between Gi-hun and Ali, an air of confidence hanging around him.

“If you could excuse us, lads. (Y/n) has asked to meet me here, so I’d appreciate it if you left us alone.”

“Huh? She wanted to see me, too!” Gi-hun commented, crossing his arms. Sang-woo’s face fell into a frown and he turned to his friend.

“Did she?”

“She asked me to meet her, too.” Ali added, then looked at you, “Are you alright? Does it have to do with our little group?” He swallowed thickly. “Have I said anything that upset you?”

You once again shook your head, taking a deep breath. “No, not at all. Don’t worry. I uh… I wanted to meet all three of you so I could ask you something.”

The three men fell silent, all looking at you expectantly. Exhaling, you tucked some hair behind your ear. “You see, I’ve noticed you looking at me, and--”

Ali fell to his knees, rubbing his palms together. “I apologise, Miss (Y/n)! I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable! It’s just that you’re such a beautiful lady that I can’t help myself sometimes. Please, forgive me!”

A soft chuckle left your lips and you walked towards Ali, stretching out your hand for him to take. “No, no Ali. You’re not listening to me. What I’m trying to say is that I’ve noticed the three of you looking at me, and I was wondering if… If you’d care to do something about that.”

Gi-hun blinked in confusion. “I don’t think I’m following… What do you mean?”

“Well, we don’t know what tomorrow will bring, so I feel like we should just go for it. Right here, right now.”

Ali and Gi-hun looked at each other in puzzlement, shrugging. “Go for what?”

Sang-woo was the first to catch on and stepped closer to you, looking at you with darkening eyes whilst addressing the men with him in the room. “(Y/n) is proposing to have sex with us.”

Gi-hun started to cough whilst Ali’s eyes widened in shock. “What are you saying, Sir? It’s rude to assume such a thing about a lady like her!”

You bit your lip and laughed lightly, reaching over to Sang-woo’s cheek to cup it. “Well, you are right. We might die tomorrow. Might as well enjoy today, hm?”

Sang-woo inhaled sharply and put his hand on your jaw, stroking to your lips with his finger before his hand slipped around your throat. You looked up at him, and sudden lust surged through your abdomen, weakening your knees.

“All three of us, hm?” Sang-woo said with amusement in his voice. You wondered if he had made many women happy, only temporarily so. You nodded, and he slid his hand towards your ribs, teasing at the underside of your breast. “What a slut.”

“Sir, don’t say that!” Ali gasped, walking towards the two of you, trying to get Sang-woo off of you. “That’s unkind!”

“Not when she seems to be thoroughly enjoying it.” Sang-woo mused, looking over his shoulder. “Gi-hun, what do you say?”

Player 456 seemed a bit lost.

“Remember what we used to say,” Sang-woo began, “When we were children? What’s yours is mine, and vice versa. The lady wants you, so come over here and kiss her.”

Gi-hun approached, and your heart picked up speed. He inspected your face, scanning for any sign of regret or restraint, but found nothing but unspoken lust. He leaned in and kissed you, slowly at first, but you soon deepend it.

Sang-woo stepped back to watch it unfold, and you heard him talk to Ali. “You see, sometimes you just have to grab what life throws at you. In your very lap, a lady like her appears. So willing and obedient, so eager to be taken. I’ve met women like (Y/n). So keen to please, and good with their mouths.” He slapped Ali on the shoulder. “Why the hesitance? A place like this should have no space for something like doubt.”

Gi-hun pulled back, his lips slightly swollen. You smiled at him, feeling like you were floating, your knickers soaked through already. You hoped that Ali would join in, but you knew that the other two were already convinced. It didn’t take a lot.

Sang-woo tried again. “Why don’t you kiss her, Ali,” he suggested, “And if you still have your doubts afterwards, you can leave and we won’t talk about it ever again.”

Swallowing thickly, Ali nodded, stepping closer. You brought your face in front of him, rubbing your nose against his before leaning in and claiming his mouth. Ali hummed, instantly melting at the sweetness of you, grabbing an inexperienced hold of your face. You knew you weren’t his first, but he certainly lacked confidence. Nevertheless, it was a marvellous feeling.

Instantly, the other men were upon you, roaming their hands over your body to make quick work of your tracksuit. Within no time, you were in nothing but your knickers, and the cheap bra slipped from your breasts to expose them to the three pairs of eyes in front of you.

After pulling back and giving Ali a sweet smile, you fought the urge to cover up and allowed the three of them to eye you up and down. A certain glint in Ali’s eyes made you realise that he wouldn’t walk out that door right now, and the sudden tent growing in his trousers confirmed that.

“Well?” you mused, bringing your hands to your breasts to cup them and pinch your hardening nipples. The sight caused Gi-hun to groan and quickly shed himself of unnecessary clothing, and Sang-woo hummed appreciatively, palming himself.

“You’re absolutely beautiful, Miss (Y/n).” said Ali, swallowing as his eyes glued themselves upon your soft breasts.

“You may touch them.” you told him, and Gi-hun also took you up on that offer. Soon, your hands waved themselves in thick, black hair whilst he and Ali latched themselves upon your breasts, sucking your nipples with an eagerness that made your heart skip a few beats.

Sang-woo stood behind you, pressing his face against your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. “What a willing girl, hm?” he murmured, slipping his hands around your bare torso, cupping your breasts from the bottom to lift them up a little. This gave the two men in front of you better access, and their licking and sucking continued. You gasped, face flushed.

“So… Compliant…”

You nodded, tilting your head so Sang-woo could kiss you. His tongue snaked into your mouth, one of his hands coming to rest on your throat once again, the other sliding down your waist, into your knickers. You let out a moan against his mouth, moving against his hand, welcoming his touch.

“I should teach those two boys what it takes to please a lady.” said Sang-woo, strong fingers starting to toy with the soaked folds of your cunt. Your clit throbbed against his fingertips, your knees almost giving out underneath you.

“Step back.” Sang-woo suddenly stated, firmer than you anticipated, and it startled you a bit. Gi-hun and Ali let go of your nipples, which were now glistening with saliva. “It’s time that the two of you learn something about pleasing a woman.”

Sang-woo stepped around you, taking your chin between his fingers to tip it upwards.

“If a woman comes to you, practically throwing themselves at you, you better realise that she longs for your attention. Are you just going to give it to her?”

He looked at Ali, who shrugged. “Well, yes. I always want to be a gentleman, and--”

“No,” Sang-woo cut him off. “They are desperate, and you can not only have some fun with it, you can also get her to do whatever you want. Want her to suck you dry? To ride your face? You name it, and she’ll probably do it. Open your mouth, babygirl.”

The nickname made you croon and you did as he ordered, and without warning, Sang-woo spat into your mouth, his saliva mixing with yours on your tongue. “Little slut. So eager to get fucked. Not by one, not even by two, but by three men. You think you won’t have to work for that, hm?”

You shook your head, “No, Sang-woo. Of course not.”

He smirked a bit. “On your knees.”

You sank down in front of him at once, reaching for his waistband. “Watch and learn.” Sang-woo told the others whilst you removed the pants of his tracksuit. He was erect and bobbed with need, a beautiful long cock that you quickly took into your hand to jerk off a few times.

“Take it.” he hissed, and you obeyed by taking it into your mouth and beginning to bob your head up and down. A hand laced into your hair, guiding you back and forth. “You see that? Her eyes are pleading for more. Once you have a woman who longs for you that much, you better fuck her hard and good. But not without having her work for it, first. That’s just how little sluts are, all taking, no giving. You better put her in her place.”

You moaned around his cock when it brushed the back of your throat, and you covered the rest of it with your hand to jerk him off.

Sang-woo softly grunted, watching you work your mouth at him. “If she’s put in her place, she won’t take advantage of you. (Y/n) here, she’s a fierce one. Come on, Ali, why don’t you take her mouth for a bit?”

Ali’s cock was hard and thick, girthier than Sang-woo though a bit shorter, and you wrapped your lips around the uncut head, feeling it instantly tense underneath you. In the meantime, you heard Sang-woo walk over to Gi-hun, who was watching you do your thing with much interest.

“Gi-hun, why don’t you spur her on a little.”

Swallowing thickly, Gi-hun stepped closer to you, standing behind you so you could see him if you looked up, your mouth still kissing away at Ali’s cock. “You’re doing a good job, (Y/n).” he said, licking his lips. Sang-woo tutted.

“Come on, be a bit firmer.”

Gi-hun drew a sharp breath, watching how you kept blowing Ali like your life depended on it. Said man groaned and was unsure of what to do with his hands, choosing to rest one on your head, the other clasping over his mouth to block out the sound of his moans.

“I’m uh… I’m not really the type to say such things, and…”

“Well, you aren’t the type to fuck a woman you barely know either, hm?”

Gi-hun sighed and rubbed his neck. “Well, what should I say?”

“Well, for example…” Sang-woo grabbed the back of your head, starting to guide your head up and down Ali’s cock. You nearly choked on it, humming around its girth. “That’s it, you little slut. Take it like the whore you are. So willing to suck a big dick, hm?”

You hummed in acknowledgement, letting him force your head back and forth, and you closed your eyes firmly to prevent tears from spilling, until it suddenly stopped. “Like that,” said he, “Nice and slow. Or quick, if you’d prefer.”

Unaccustomed fingers replaced Sang-woo’s, and Gi-hun shot you an apologetic look. You smiled around Ali’s length, telling him that it was okay. After all, sleeping with three men at once did not exactly make you look like an innocent girl that deserved to be adored in all ways possible instead of needing a rough fuck - in all holes, so it seemed.

“Yes, doll. You’re way quieter with your mouth full of dick.” Gi-hun’s words made your heart skip a beat and you moaned around Ali, who had been losing his mind ever since he felt your lips around is cock.

Your jaw started to hurt and you closed your eyes, slobbering his length as well as you could. “Just like that,” mused Gi-hun, smirking a little, as if he was imagining himself in Ali’s stead. He was palming himself, and you wished that you could angle your head so that you could look upon his erection as well. Alas, you had to wait a little while longer.

“Good girl.” mused Ali, and your eyes snapped up to meet him. Something akin to amusement filled your features and you pressed a soft kiss to the head of his cock, licking the weeping slit. “Your mouth is so nice and warm… Ah… Can’t last long.”

“Stand up, (Y/n).” Sang-woo said, and you didn’t second-guess his authority in the situation, standing up and rubbing your sore knees, which had been painfully rubbing against the tiles of the bathroom. You gasped when he suddenly grabbed you, pulling you against him. “Gi-hun, you better make sure that she’s ready for us.”

Gi-hun did not need any further instruction, dropping to his knees to latch his mouth onto your dripping pussy. His fingers pried aside your soaked knickers, and his tongue was upon you at once. You moaned, throwing your head back against Sang-woo’s shoulder, whose lips found the nape of your neck. His cock pressed against your back, and you hoped to feel it inside soon.

The man feasting upon your swollen folds was undoubtedly skilled, and you couldn’t help but claw in his hair. Ali was watching the scene unfold in front of him, thoroughly enjoying it, though unfamiliar with the practise. You smiled a bit, realising that he was way more innocent when it came to sexual acts than you had anticipated.

Gi-hun’s tongue worked wonders, and your juices soaked his face to the point that when he pulled back, his chin was glistening, lips turned upward in a gentle smile. He was loving this as much as you were, and you hoped that you’d feel his cock inside of you soon, wondering if he was as skilled with it as he was when performing oral.

“I think she’s ready.” Gi-hun whispered against the inside of your thigh, way too soon. You nodded and gave him a thankful smile, beckoning him closer. He kissed you softly, and you could taste yourself on his tongue.

“Do you want to fuck her, Ali?” asked Sang-woo. Ali was hesitant, rubbed his arm, perhaps having regrets or second thoughts.

“You don’t have to.” you assured him, “I can suck you off again, if you’d like.”

He smiled and nodded. “Yes, please. I’d ah… I’d like that.”

Something akin to guilt swelled deep inside your chest, but it faded the moment Gi-hun appeared in your field of vision. “Alright, Sang-woo.” quizzed he, “How are we going to do this?”

Sang-woo hummed in thought. “I will lay down on the floor,” he began, “And then (Y/n) will get on top of me. Then, Gi-hun will enter her from behind, and Ali can get in front of her face.”

You frowned. “You want to lay down on this filthy floor?”

Sang-woo shrugged. “Sometimes you’ve got to work with what you have.”

And so, it was done. Sang-woo laid down on the cold tiles against your better judgement and you straddled him, cock poking at your entrance with a bit of guidance. You moaned at the intrusion, yet Sang-woo more collected, and he shushed you by pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Easy does it, doll,” said he, “After all, Gi-hun also needs to get in still.”

Gi-hun’s body towered above you, and with a bit of shifting, he straddled you, holding himself up by leaning on your back slightly. It was uncomfortable, but it was the best you could manage if you were to have Ali’s length in your mouth whilst doing this, and you eagerly took the weeping cock of said man back against your tongue.

Sang-woo eased a finger around the spot where your bodies joined to stretch you open, and you grunted around Ali’s cock whilst he added another slender digit. The slick of your cunt and with the help of a little spit, Gi-hun eased his cock inside of you, slowly but surely.

It burned, and you were sure that you were bleeding a little, but eventually, it fit. Tears appeared at the corners of your eyes, and Ali’s gentle hand on your cheek was sweet. However, it was Sang-woo’s snark that made you moan.

“That’s it, so full, aren’t you? Little slut. Taking our cocks so well.”

You nodded and began to bob your head, whimpering at the first thrusts of the men inside you. Sang-woo and Gi-hun moved unevenly at first, but soon found a pace they could both keep. Your breasts swung in Sang-woo’s face with every roll of their hips, and he took one of your nipples into his mouth.

Veins were sticking out on Ali’s cock, and he could not be far off. Slick ran down your thighs and the movements of the men became easier. Your tongue swiped over the sensitive ring of flesh around Ali’s head, causing the Pakistani man to moan in pleasure.

“That’s it,” he praised, “Your mouth is so good and nice, you… Filthy slut!”

Sang-woo smiled against your breast. “I’ve taught you well.” You laughed around Ali’s dick, nearly choking on it once again, and gathered more saliva in your mouth to spit onto his weeping tip.

“Such a slut.” Gi-hun grunted behind you, his body pummeling against yours, “So extremely full with our cocks yet begging for us to keep going.”

Your walls clenched around the cocks at the words. For a second, you pulled back for air. “Oh, harder!” said you, “Please, sirs.”

Sang-woo chuckled and quickened his pace. You wondered if he was close to orgasm. Ali was full-on groaning now, jerking himself off to the scene in front of him. You were a beautiful mess, and he could cum all over your face if you’d have him.

Gi-hun wasn’t making it a secret, either. He moaned, slamming his hips against yours. “Such a tight pussy,” he groaned, “Such a needy, spoiled brat!”

“Of course I’m spoiled!” you said with humour in your voice, though a mewl of pleasure unable to be suppressed right after. “I’m having three cocks at the same time! I’m just lucky, aren’t I?”

Sang-woo gripped your ass, guiding you firmer onto his cock. You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue so that Ali could tap the head of his length against it. “Gonna cum,” you announced, getting more and more stretched out by each thrust yet clenching around their cocks as if they were your last lifeline.

Ali was the first to cum - already on the edge for such a long time. His lips parted and he moaned, semen landing on your tongue and cheeks. You smiled at him, licking from the underside of his cock all the way to the head, and kissed it gently.

He attempted to catch his breath whilst Gi-hun came in stripes on your back, and you winced at the sudden removal of the girthy length of his manhood. Sang-woo replaced the sudden loss of stimulation with his fingers on your clit, and his determined eyes found yours when you looked down at him.

Moaning, you came around his length, legs giving out, your body falling atop his. Sang-woo fingered you through it, amused at how you crooned, and you saw stars.

When you finally regained some balance and managed to get some strength in your legs, Sang-woo pulled out of you without warning, causing you to flinch. He came inside his own fist, hot seed seeping out from the top as he coaxed himself through his high, his gaze fixated upon you.

“You needy slut,” said he, slipping his fingers into your mouth whilst his satisfied cock fell flat against his stomach with a splat. “Take all of it.”

You eagerly licked clean his hand no matter how tired your jaw and cheeks were from all the work, and you had to resist the urge to cuddle into him. Sang-woo wasn’t the type to snuggle, nor was this the place to do so if it had even been the case.

No, you thought to yourself whilst you allowed Gi-hun to help you up. You’d snuggle with Ali and Gi-hun, and Sang-woo would proudly watch from a distance. Or enviously, you weren’t sure.

Ali grabbed a few handfuls of toilet paper for the four of you to get cleaned up. In pleasant silence, you all redressed, tidying up the mess as well as you could in a situation like this. No matter how scratchy the paper was, or how moist your knickers immediately felt against your thighs, it was something you wouldn’t have wanted to miss for the world.

“If you go back first, (Y/n),” suggested Sang-woo, “Then Gi-hun can come after you after thirty seconds. Ali will follow after a minute, and I will come after that. That way, it will not raise suspicion.”

The four of you agreed on that, and you adjusted the jacket of your tracksuit before turning to the three men. One by one, you gave them a lingering kiss on the lips, enjoying each of them for their unique flavours and feels.

“Meet me at my bed.” you told all three of them, smiling before turning to the door, heading out to leave.

You wondered who of them would show up, you thought to yourself, but regardless of the afterglow that was soon to come, you were happy that you had followed Han Mi-nyeo’s advice, making a mental note to thank her later.

[bonny-kookoo]

Make Me | 🔞 | JJK x Reader

Pairing:Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Romance, Lowkey kinda crack, Smut, slight angst

Wordcount: 3.4k (its pretty short since I plan on giving you guys random smut-shots for this, so a lot of the scenes didn't make it into this one.)

Tags/warnings: Playful teasing, swearing, name calling, slight hair pulling, smut, usage of toys (remote controlled), slight angst, they be fighting a lil, it's a pretty low-carb meal really, very lightweight, okay I don't think there's anything else to say

Summary: Jungkook and you; a couple that's not only connected under the name of lovers- but best friends and enemies as well.

  Jungkook is absolutely in love with you.

That may be hard to believe, considering the two of you currently fighting on the couch over the last bite of your burger. You're not play-fighting like cutesy couples either, no; you're both acting as if starvation was the only alternative.

Its really not; there's plenty other takeout still on the table.

"I paid for this shit you ungrateful bitch!" He laughs out as you stuff the bite into your mouth, hands high in triumph. "I can't believe you sometimes." He mumbles, watching you chew and swallow before he attacks again. He's careful with you, although it might not seem that way. Jungkook wouldn't dare to injure you in any way, always getting apologetic every time he accidentally bruises your skin. He pins your arms on the couch, predatory eyes staring at you as you raise your eyebrows.

"What'cha gonna do about it?" You challenge, and he groans out as he lets you go.

"Fuck you!" He says, and you laugh out loud. "Don't make me fucking pop a boner- I don't wanna eat cold french fries!" He whines while reaching for said food item, and you shrug as you reach for the pack of chicken nuggets, opening a tiny tub of sauce. "I can't believe you." He chuckles, unable to hold up his facade of being upset about all of it.

He really isn't.

Everyone of his friends thinks its weird- the relationship you two had. He himself however always felt like he had won the jackpot with you; he had a hot girlfriend he didn't have to change anything for. There was no need to be all romantic and cheesy and make himself into someone he wasn't. Being gentle was no requirement with you; you were his absolute best friend, and also lover at the same time.

He had it all with you.

Hard to believe, but Jungkook had been very realistic about it with you. Of course it had been exciting when you two had hooked up for the first time- but the more he got to know you, the more he fell in love with your honest nature and loving personality. You were passionate about your art, never let someone talk down on you, always spoke your mind. You were a challenge, a tiger waiting to be tamed, and Jungkook was as ready as he had ever been to try and do just that. Because right now you were young, you were wild, and one day, you'll have lived all of your dreams. Somewhere deep down, he already imagines it. Sometimes. The way he'll buy a house for you two, how he'll marry you and knock you up to make his family complete.

But for now, you were simply two young lovers in the moment.

Theres a drop of sauce on the top of your breast, and you don't even notice the way Jungkook stares as you wipe it off with your finger, licking it clean like second nature. He's furrowing his brows as he throws his head back, pure agony in his voice as he growls out. "God what is it now?" You playfully complain, last bite of your food gone in your mouth as you look at him with amusement. "Don't tell me you're still hard." You say.

"Fuck off, it's your fault!" He laughs out, unable to quite conceal how funny the entire situation seems to him as well. "Can't you sit on my dick while I finish my food?" He whines, pouting expression thrown your way as you give him a look that says more than you could with words. "Okay yeah saying that out loud makes it sound weird." He mumbles, speeding up his speed as he finishes his food. He swallows after a moment, leaning back on the couch as he gives himself a moment to settle. Maybe he'll come down on his own.

But then again, as he looks at you, he has to remember what his mother always told him.

'don't let the food get cold'

And its your laughter in his ears that makes him smile as he crawls over you, pulling your shirt over your head as he decides no; he doesn't want to wait.

"Jungkookie, LOOK!" You exclaim as he walks inside your studio, watching as you were petting a massive dog. Maybe a great dane? Mastiff? It didn't matter at all- because you were so happy his attention wasn't on the animal next to you at all. "He's so cute, aren't you?" You say, squishing the dogs head a little. Jungkook laughs.

"Please don't tell me you want a dog now." He says, and you look at him with large eyes. "No, please, we can barely take care of ourselves right now!" He laughs. "Bring it up again when you can walk stairs without stumbling." He teases, and you stare daggers at him.

"At least I'm not scared of the fucking microwave." You mumble, as you stand up, the customer absolutely entertained by the two of you. Jungkook slaps your butt as an answer to your teasing, making you squeal scandalized. "Jungkook! That's public indecency!" You exclaim, and Jungkook laughs as he sits down on a chair in the waiting lounge you're standing in.

"If that's true I gladly get arrested." He says, and you roll your eyes as you say your goodbyes to the customer and his very lovable pet, getting your stuff to walk over to him. "Good to go?" He asks, and you nod, walking out next to him as you spot his car outside- or rather, the small van his company provided him. You have had your suspicions already as he was still wearing his work attire- this sight now spoke out clearly what you were fearing.

"Jungkook no-" You whine, and he sighs, silently telling you were right. "You promised no more overtime!" You said. "We were supposed to have a nice weekend!" You say, genuinely upset, and he can see it; the look in your eyes is pure disappointment, brows scrunched up as your shoulder slump down. "You promised." You mumble, as he opens the passenger door for you, letting you get inside the car.

"I'm sorry, but Tae called in sick and they asked who could take his shift." He explained as he drove home, well knowing that this was no excuse for you. But instead of voicing that out like you usually did, you were silent.

He did not like that.

"I'm really sorry." He says again, but you're still not answering him. "Baby?" He tries, but you're looking out the window, not sparing him even a glance. He knows he fucks up sometimes, but this is entirely new territory for him. Never had he had to deal with you genuinely upset with him, at least not to this extend- because at the moment it seemed as if you were ready to open that door at the next red light and walk right away from him.

The thought alone made him shudder- and not in a good way.

He tries again, but this time you speak; voice quiet, serious, and way too formal for him to feel comfortable with. "Just bring me home Jungkook." The way you say his name makes him bite the inside of his cheek. He's now upset at himself as well. He knew how much you had been looking forward to a shared weekend together. He should've not said anything when they asked who could take over the shift.

And as he came to a stop in front of your shared apartment, it only got worse. Because for the first time, you just got out of his car, closing the door, and went into the apartment complex.

You didn't give him his kiss to the cheek like you did every time- even when you were mad.

You didn't say goodbye.

You didn't even look back.

"I don't want you gone all the time." You whine out as you hold onto him, his hands on your back as he helps you stay where you are on his lap, your head in his neck as you breath heavily. "I need you." You say, and its one of the rare moments you're open like that. He's eating it up, drinking it in, as he holds you, palms all over your bare skin while you move lazily.

"I know, I'm sorry, I really am." He breathes out, placing kisses to your shoulder, helping you rock on his cock so you won't have to do all the work. "I need you too, I really do, I'm sorry." He mumbles, slipping out of you for a moment before he lays you flat on the bed, guiding his length back inside you as he looms over your body, kissing your skin as if he's worshipping you, as if he can't get close enough to you, his hands holding onto your middle as he keeps you stable while he pushes into you slowly.

"Faster-" You beg him, but he shakes his head, not picking up his pace at all as you whine. "Kookie please-" You say, and he shakes his head again.

"No, we got time." He argues back, and you open your eyes at that, looking to the side. "What is it?" He asks.

"We don't." You say. "You have to get up early tomorrow." You say, and Jungkook shakes his head, making you roll your eyes for a moment as you want to continue- but he shuts you up with a well practiced hand on your clit, your body reacting instantly as your toes curl up. "Jungkook-"

"I don't." He says, gritting his teeth as he finally picks up his pace. "I took time off." He breathes out. "Told them I need the weekend." His hand is eager to have you come undone underneath him as your legs move, heels digging into the small of his back as you snake them around his body the best you can considering the size difference. "Told them I got my girlfriend at home, and guess what?" He asks, and you mewl at his antics. "No one's gonna call me up. Phone's on airplane mode." You're suddenly frantic, hands gripping the bedsheets underneath you as he doesn't let up, smiles into your neck as he bites and sucks his marks. "They can fuck off while I fuck you." He whispers, and you suddenly snap, back arching as you come, his violent thrusting making you sob dryly, fingers reaching for his arms as you dig them into his inked skin.

That's your art underneath his skin, safely tucked away to be guarded from time. That's your ink on his body, your way of making him yours. And this, the way he mouths and nibbles and bites and kisses- that's his way of making you his.

He slips out, desperately rutting into his own hand as he cums onto your lower belly, his release staining the sheets below.

But it doesn't matter in that moment.

He gladly cleans up afterwards.

"Would you ever wanna live in New Zealand?" You ask him, as he makes sure not to burn any of the food on the grill.

It's your yearly holiday trip, this time in the cold of new Zealand, a camping van your home for the two weeks you'd decided to travel the country. "I mean, why not?" He tells you, turning a piece of meat over, before he looks at you sitting next to him, all bundled up in his way too large puffer jacket. It's already large on him- so it almost swallows you whole. But it also awakens something inside him, seeing you wear his clothes like that. He feels protective, weirdly so.

"Hmhm." You say. "The people seem nice here." You say, and then you rest your head against his shoulder, making him smile as his arm wraps around you- a movement almost instinctual at this point. "But I don't know, won't we miss home?" You wonder, and Jungkook shrugs.

"I don't really need a home as long as you're with me." He says, speaking it out loud without thinking as you suddenly detach from him. He looks at you, worried he might've said something too much, but you look at him so.. he can't describe it. Your lips are on his in the next second, before you go to the van to retrieve some paper plates.

"Oh my god, that was-" You say, balancing cutlery in your arm. "-The most romantic fucking thing you've ever said!" You say, putting everything onto the camping table as he chuckles. "No, I mean it. That was so movie-worthy!" You say. "I feel like I'm in a K-Drama!" You exclaim, and he laughs.

"They don't swear that much in K-Dramas." He corrects you playfully, but still smiles. "But yeah I get you. Sometimes I feel like this isn't real too. Too good to be true and all that." He says, and you suddenly squeal, making him look at you.

"Stop!" You say, before you hug him tightly.

You're looking through clothing items when you suddenly feel it.

The sudden buzzing right inside you, making your foot studder in its step as you try to conceil your reaction as best as you can. You can feel your thighs clenching, muscles contracting as the feeling of the bullet vibrator. And one look towards Jungkook sitting on a chair in front of the dressing stalls makes you want to punch him right in his pretty face.

He's got his hand inside his sweater pocket, smirking slightly at your struggle as he doesn't seem to care who's sitting next to him- or who could see you and connect the dots. He likes things like that; the slight thrill of getting caught and the literall proof that you had given him all control making him feel absolute bliss.

You're more concerned about the fact that you're about to cum.

Right inside this fucking store.

You shoot him daggers, and he simply has the audacity to smile, shrugging his arms as if he's got no idea what you mean. He tones it down a little, turning it off for now when he felt like he'd tortured you enough; stripping you of your orgasm as well. You want to whine out, complain, but you simply but the clothes back where they belong, walking up to him. "Oh? Nothing caught your eye baby?" He asks innocently, and you simply smile, shaking your head. "Alright." He says, getting up to walk out with you.

And its inside the car after he had parked in a secluded spot on a scarcely lit parking lot that he turns the device on again. "I have to say.." He starts, watching you squirm in the passenger seat, hands instantly clenching into fists as your legs squeeze together. "I'm not mad anymore I almost paid a hundred bucks for this thing." He tells you. "Feels good baby?" He asks, and you nod- but its not enough for Jungkook. "I can't hear you." He tells you, and you have to cut yourself off to not moan out loud.

"I-t.. ah- feels good.." You somehow get out, squirming and slowly growing desperate as he keeps the setting low- too low for you to actually cum. He's enjoying the show for a moment, until he reaches underneath his drivers' seat, fumbling around before the seat rolls back, making more room. You know what's going to happen next. "Can I-?" You start, and he nods, helping you safely onto his lap.

"You look so pretty like this." He praises, hands underneath your clothing as he gently fondles your breasts- enjoying the fact you've decided to skip the bra today. "Hm?" He humms against your skin, before he leans back, switching onto the highest setting. He doesn't even need to touch himself to get off, he knows that already; the sight in front of you enough to get him going. You're erratic at this point, Hips rutting into nothing as you hold your hands awkwardly in front of your mouth. Jungkook reaches out, letting you hold onto him, and he feels weirdly loving at the sight of you holding onto him so desperately. "Oh?" He suddenly asks, noticing you stutter. "Cum baby. Come on." He urges, and you want to tell him its too much, too much, but then you suddenly cum, and he tones it down a little, letting you ride it out as you clumsily fondle him over his jeans- only a few movements enough for him however to come undone inside his pants. "Shh, you're good, good job, good girl." He humms out, letting you rest against his chest for a moment, closing his eyes as he enjoys the moment with you.

He's really not mad about the hundred bucks anymore.

One thing Jungkook had come to live with was the fact that you loved everything cute.

You collected anything pink and soft and cute, plushies being his go-to present because he knew that would always be a bullseye-shot with you. They're all over the place, but Jungkook doesn't mind. Even though he can't understand the appeal of some of them, he himself understands the appeal of collecting things. And he's also not one to judge- having accepted you with every piece and habit you have.

That doesn't mean he doesn't tease you for it.

"Why's the rat wearing old granny clothes?"jungkook snorts, jumping over the back of the couch to sit next to you, who is currently trying to sew a hole on your melody plush toy shut.

"Shut up, Melody isn't a rat!" You mumble, making Jungkook chuckle as he eats his popsicle, watching you work. He really likes how delicate your hands are; they fit nicely in his hands whenever he holds them. Yours get cold a lot- and he likes giving you some warmth whenever he can.

Anything for you.

"I think its a rat." He tells you, giggling boyishly when you throw your head back, groaning. He gets up to walk into the kitchen to throw the wooden stick of his treat away, as he hears you.

"Well detective melody thinks you're a little bitch." You retort. And only seconds later, jungkook is behind you, looking over your shoulder to check if its clear- he doesn't want you to hurt yourself with the needle. Once he's made sure, he grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling it back so you're looking at him upside down.

"You wanna say that again sweetheart?" He growls out, and your sparkling eyes shout mischievously at him from below.

He loves the powerplay.

But this time you decide to ge cute, holding the stuffed toy into his face as you giggle. "Its melodys words, not mine!" You argue, and he laughs, before he pushes the toy aside, pressing a kiss to your nose before he walks back into the kitchen again. "Although I can't argue with whats been said-" you start, and Jungkook shouts from the kitchen as you laugh.

"I wasn't a little bitch last night when I was balls deep in-" he starts, and you scream over his words, scandalized.

"Jungkook, not when melody is listening!"

"So.." Jimin started, looking at your hand. "You wanna explain that expensive ass thing?" He asks, before he slaps the table. "Don't tell me its real!" He asks, eyes wide as you laugh.

"Why, you wanna steal n' sell?" You challenge, and he shakes his head, now a little more serious.

"No, I just wondered. He popped the question or not?" He asks, and you can't help the grin that spreads onto your cheeks. But before any of you can answer, the man in question walks inside, having heard the conversation.

"I did, and that means you can fuck off Park." He challenges, roughly pushing the elder away with a hand on his head, making everyone laugh at their antics. "How's my fiance doing?" He asks. "Still walking like a newborn babydeer?" He teases, and you smack his head with a printout you had rolled up. "Ow, you literally told me to go hard, don't be mad now!" He says, before running away from your red-faced form, chasing him with the printouts around the studio.

Yeah, some things never change.

And that's ok.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. Don't try reposting on AO3 or your mom's facebook. I got eyes everywhere.

[another-fantasy-world]

5:1 with Natasha Romanoff

GIF isn’t mine

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Title: The 5 Times Natasha Held Her Tears Back, And The One Time She Couldn't

Pairings: (Romantic) Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: Angst. Just pure angst. Maybe a sprinkle of Fluff. Major Character Death

Reader Pronouns: She/They, (I don't even think I put the reader's pronouns in, but it's what I was thinking of.)

Word Count: 5065 words

Author's note: I was feeling angsty these past few weeks so why not? I think this is all the angst I have stored in my body for this month. I'll go back to writing fluff now. I sincerely apologize for this.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

I.

You hated this.

Of course you did. SHIELD managed to destroy what you considered a home. It wasn't the best, they made you fight each other, they made you sit in a chair, electrocuting you or injecting you with weird chemicals. But you were their best, the best in that institute, and now you would have to fight for the top spot again.

“You. You're facing our newbie. We need to test her strength.” This too old to be alive, bulky man pointed at a brunette girl, who was now shaking.

“Let's see if you are what they made you out to be.” Madame B uttered as the guy pushed you to the center.

“Begin.” She said, her eyes focused on your movement.

You begin by circling the brunette, sizing her up. The perks of the power you were born with is that you can easily see their weak spots, parts that would make them cry out for mercy that you'll never give.

She begins the fight with a fatal mistake, running at you with her fist almost hitting your face, you caught the fist and twisted it just enough for her wrist to be broken. She didn't scream, which was disappointing.

You decided to do the next move, still holding her broken wrist, you held her elbow and flipped her onto her back, knocking the air out of her.

“Stand up.” You glared at the brunette, pissed that she was knocked down way too easily.

And she stands up, hiding her broken wrist behind her back as she fought with her legs and feet instead. Blocking a high kick, you held her right foot and slammed your elbow to her knee as hard as you can, making her leg bend in an unnatural way, this time making her scream in pain as she fell down to the ground.

“Eliminate the weak.” Madame B's voice echoed in the room

“Understood.” You replied, kicking the brunette so her face is on the ground. No matter how hard they train and brainwash you, you refused to see the face of your victims as they died, so you always turn their head the opposite way. She cries and begs for mercy, and you smirk at her pathetic attempts of surviving. Should've fought better then.

Producing a dagger from your thigh, you straddled her hips and plunged the dagger deep into where you know her heart is, making blood pool around her.

“Hmm.” Madame B hummed, her body language shows her positivity.

“Fine. We'll take her in.” Madame B said to your previous handler

You stand there, bored out of your brain as people clean the mess you made.

“Natalia.” The name Madame B mumbled brought you back to reality as a gorgeous redhead made her way to you.

“She's going to be the one you'll see frequently. Both of you are going on missions, so get along girls. I can't have our greatest assets kill each other.”

“Natalia.”

“Y/N” you accepted her handshake, her tight grip on your hand as she pulls you close.

“You'll regret killing her.” her voice faltered, giving away that she's close to sobbing her little heart out.

“The weak has no place in this world. It's kill or be killed, Natalia.” You bit back, your grip also tightening

As your handler led you away to a cell specifically made for you, You could swear you heard Natalia say something.

You turned back to see Natasha's beautiful green eyes lined with tears she desperately pulled back.

“Remember me.” She mouthed, tilting her head up to prevent the tears from falling.

It was the first time you saw Natalia hold her tears back

II.

You don't know how to feel.

Natalia escaped the Red room. You were extremely proud of her for escaping this hell. But you were pissed that she didn't even try to inform you of it.

You had been in a mission, an attempt for you to forget about the bond you and Natalia had, It didn't work, because the second you landed, you teleported to her room. A new power that you obtained from them, only to find her bed occupied with another. You grit your teeth and opted to kill this girl that's laying on your beloved's bed.

“Silence. Don't waste your time. She is not here, and killing that girl will not erase that feeling in your heart. We have another mission, let all your frustration out on that.” Your new handler said. This handler was much more gentler than the last one you killed, and you refrained from killing her because of that. She had become a mother of sorts.

“Another mission? I just got back.” You shook your head.

“You need to. I think you'll be interested in this one. Budapest” She hands you a file.

…and Natalia's face was plastered on the file.

“What is this?” You grit out

“Natalia joined SHIELD.”

The anger you felt was what led to where you are now.

“Y/N! Stop! Listen to me!” She grunts as you both land blow, after blow. You, letting all your frustrations out with your body, and her defending herself

“Why should I? You left me. YOU BETRAYED ME!” You say, your thoughts clouded

“They're using you! Fuck. They only see you as an asset for fucks sake!” She winces in pain as your dagger nicks her face, blood dripping from the wound on her face

“I know. So come and save me.” You mumbled when you had her in your arms, a dagger on her throat, threatening to slice it open.

“...I can't” She says, holding back her tears, her hands trying to find your other hand, trying to find comfort in this sick reality

“Then so be it.” You say with finality, hearing your handler say that the mission was complete, and you fulfilled your role of being the distraction.

You drop Natalia, her hand on her throat, trying to stop the bleeding. You both know it wasn't lethal, but it was still bleeding a lot.

“Be careful Natalia.” You whispered, before turning away from her, refusing to see her teary eyes. The sharpshooter was by her side in an instant, making you wish that it was you comforting her, not this man named after a bird.

Natalia can't help but stare at your retreating figure, guilt, regret, anger and sadness weighing her down. 8 years of training with each other, 8 years of flirty missions that would get you both punished, and 8 years of friendship, thrown down the drain, all because she refused to fight for you, all because she was following the rules set for her. It was then she realized, SHIELD isn't that much different from the red room and HYDRA.

Natasha held her tears back once again.

III.

You felt excited for once.

After years of boring, too easy missions that were given to you, you were finally qualified enough for a mission with the Avengers, as if mass murdering people and assassinating people weren't enough qualification. HYDRA suspects that the Avengers will interfere with this specific mission, so they sent you to be a guard of some sort. You complained at first, wanting to move around and not be a body guard, but now you were relieved that your handler persisted you take this role.

“Come here often?” The green-eyed woman says, ordering herself a cocktail.

“No. Not at all. My sister was invited to this whole thing, and I just tagged along. Her personal bodyguard if you will.” You say, facing her and sipping your drink

“Natasha.” She chuckles, extending her hand

“Y/N” You chuckle back, she changed her name again.

“You never changed your name?” She asked, scooting closer to you, sipping on her orange-colored cocktail.

“It's part of my charm, why change it?” You smirked

“What are you doing here, Silence.” She says, her playful attitude disappearing, a frown now placed on her pretty face.

“Ouch, Natalia. Busting out the professional nicknames, that's painful. And giving up on that flirty tactic already? My, my. You must be getting rusty then.” You say, clutching your heart in faux pain

“I don't have time to waste, Y/LN. What. Does. HYDRA. Want. From. Samantha. Durkink?” You chuckled at her attempt of fishing out info

“Why don't you ask Samantha herself?” You say, lifting your glass to the target's general direction.

Natasha's eyes followed the direction you pointed, and there she was, the target, dressed in a dark violet medieval era-like gown, her eyes then roamed around to the delicately decorated ballroom, fit for a royal ball.

You watch her as she tried to get through the crowed that was dancing, laughing lightly when you see her struggling. You then laughed once again when a man mistook her for a dancing partner and instantly pulled her to dance, the crowd was dancing together, all in sync, which amazed you.

After a few minutes, you decide to take Natasha out of her misery.

“May I cut in?” You ask the man who was dressed like that one prince from that movie, Ice or something. You only saw it when you babysat Red room candidates.

He nodded and you slipped Natasha into your arms, your hands on her waist and palm, while her hands were on your shoulder and palm. The two of you waltz quietly for a few minutes, before you leaned into her ear, the one you knew had her comms.

“You have approximately 7 minutes to leave the building with your team. I personally dislike what they are about to do, but HYDRA has found a rather unorthodox way of burning evidence. And as much as I don't like it. It's a way easier way of...burning the evidence away with a bang. You understand right?” You pat her head, looking into her eyes fondly, letting your guard slip for just a second.

“I'm proud of you.”

And that was all Natasha could hear for the past hour. Even as she stared at the now burning mansion, the screams of people that were trapped in that building resonating in the air. Even as she was being suffocated by her team's emotions because the mission failed. All she can hear and see is you. Your eyes burning with passion she had never seen before, not even in missions, you always had an emotionless look on your face, much like hers. And yet, there you were, under the chandelier, looking at her like you care for her, looking at her like she's your world, looking at as if you...love her.

And that was what led Natasha to hold her tears back, even if she was in the privacy of her own room, her eyes on the small rectangular box you gave her.

She refused to believe that you love her. No. Love is for children. Love isn't meant for her. Love isn't meant for you. Love. No. She doesn't deserve love. Especially not from you.

She held her tears back harder when she realized. When all the “unexplained circumstances” happened, she never found who caused it. And now she knew. Now she realized.

You never stopped caring for her after all these years.

IV.

You care for her

After months of beating yourself up, you finally accepted it. You care for this reckless, red-haired assassin, who always seem like she never gets her life together. This green-eyed goddess who can never catch a break. This assassin who betrayed you. This woman who babysits Gods. This woman, who's sleeping beside you, her face oddly peaceful and calm, a complete opposite for what you were feeling.

“Idiot. Spending time with other idiots has made her an idiot herself.” You mumbled, flipping a page of this random fantasy story that's been translated to Russian.

“Hmmn. You were talking shit there Y/LN?” She stirred

“I was. You slept for 2 days Nat.” You say with no emotion in your voice.

“So mean.” She says, reaching around you, pulling you close and buried her head on your stomach. You were taken aback. She was never like this...unless

“What happened yesterday Nat? You know how forgetful I get.” You smiled at her sweetly

“Well, we were on a mission in Indonesia, and you killed your handler to give me ice cream.” She smiled

…ah- her brain must've reset itself when she almost drowned

“...I'm sorry Nat.” You say, a frown on your face.

“When did you start calling me Nat?” She asks, to which you just smirked

“Free, Proven, Easy, Loyal, Secret, Care, Loyal, Love.” You spoke in Russian, and Natasha's eyes turned blank, before they turned into panic

“Y/N? Oh my god.”

“...You have become annoyingly American.” You scoffed, annoyed that her first words after being brought back to reality are that of a Typical American

“Well, I at least needed to pass as American born or else I would've been deported you ass!” She goes to punch your face, but you blocked it with your book.

“Not the face Natalia.” You mumbled, rolling your eyes when she winced in pain

“Don't force your body. You have a flesh wound from the bullet that grazed you.” You say, placing your book on the nightstand and guide her to lay down.

“You promised not to use those words unless needed, Atrax.” She grunts, a cold hard glare directed to you.

“And I knew you wouldn't like living in a false reality, Widow.” You thumped her head with your palm.

“...That reality is a dream we once knew.” She mumbles, tears threatening to fall

You hold her face, wiping the tears before they fall. You knew her as much as she knows you. She hates showing weakness, She hates crying, So you vowed to never let her cry in front of you again.

“It's a dream that I can make a reality.” You nodded

“what?” She asks after a while, surprised

“If I could escape this hell, I would. And I'll bring you along with me, even if I have to tie a rope on your waist. We'll travel to a peaceful land far away and build ourselves a beautiful house with a backyard. Maybe a kid or two. But no more than that. 2 dogs, 2 cats, 3 spiders and 1 snake” You quoted yourself from 10 years ago, making her chuckle, but abruptly stops

“We were young.” She says, frowning

“And?”

“We were foolish Y/N. We were kids!” She shouts in your face

“...ah. I understand. You think that I break my promises? Well newsflash widow. I didn't break a single promise I made!” A look of anger in your face, you drag Natasha by her uninjured arm and pulled her right in front of the bathroom mirror.

“Look at me. Look at you. I promised you that someday you'll look at ballet as a form of comfort and not remind you of the pain it caused, You dance whenever you feel the need to cry! I promised you that you'll get out of that damn red room with or without me, And look what happened! Granted that I wasn't the one to get you out, I made sure you never returned. I promised that someday we'll look into each other's eyes without a dagger on each other's throat...” You trailed off, her green eyes tearing up again.

“I promised that I'll never let you cry in front of me. And I intend to fulfill that.” You say, wiping the tears before they fell once again

“It's not crying if tears don't fall.” You quote her from 12 years ago

And at that moment, Natasha let herself indulge in this sinful dream of hers. Her lips touched yours as moonlight made her bare skin glow, her taking what's rightfully hers, sitting on her own throne. The sweat trailing down her skin as quiet music erupt from both of you. You never wanted this moment to end, but alas the sun rose, and it was time to face reality once again.

“I can't...” She says the moment the sun shone through the curtains.

“I understand.” You say, standing up to get yourself dressed

“I'll leave you with a choice then. If you change your mind.” You softly say to her, left hand clutching the bag that you need and the other holding her face softly.

“See you in a minute.”

Natasha once again held her tears back, her hands trembling as it held the two envelopes that seem so heavy. One containing fresh, new, fake identity and a plane ticket to God knows where. And the other held a car key, a house key and some money to aid her travel back to the compound. Well the choice is heavy. To leave the Avengers behind, and rekindle a lost flame in a faraway land, or to stay, and continue to fight and to protect.

In the end, Natasha chose them.

V.

You felt at peace.

A couple months at a quiet town did wonders to your mental health. You were now playing piano in an old studio made to teach young students ballet. It was now abandoned, but you bought it, just for the nostalgia

“I knew I'd find you here.” You hear her voice echoing, You stopped playing Swan Lake, OP.20, Act II for a second

“Hmmhmmn. You've always been the better spy out of both of us.” You say, switching your piece to The Nutcracker: Dance of Sugar-Plum Fairy

“Ah. My outfit isn't fit for ballet” She says

“That never stopped you before, Widow.” You chuckled, smiling wider when she started to dance to the rhythm you set.

“Why didn't you stay there?” She asked while floating around the room, your piece now switched to The Sleeping Beauty, Ballet Suite, Op.66a: V. Valse.

“Not my scene, as I hate to admit. I missed the chaos. But I miss the silence too. It's a tough choice.”

“Trust me. I know.” She scoffs, then her eye widens at how insensitive that sounded

“Heh. Of course.”

“Switch to Giselle, will you?” She asks, her toes supported her weight even though she's not wearing pointe shoes

“Bossy.” You mumbled, but complying anyways

And there you both reveled in the bond you both had. Both expressing your feelings in the way that you knew the most. Music and Ballet. Your feelings of Regret, merging with Natasha's, Your feelings of Shame, battled Natasha's sadness, Your pride shoved down your throat as Natasha also shoved hers. As the melody you played turned into a much softer tune, Natasha's love vibrated through the air, as did yours, The feelings you held back came crashing down as you too try to hold back your tears.

There was no need to explain to each other. You both knew. Well, you sure hope she knew what you think. After all, you left her a letter in each envelope. And while she never sent a letter back, she had the habit of hacking into your morning radio and deliver small messages through Morse code, leaving you to figure out her puzzle of a message.

“You're happy. I like that.” You say, abandoning your piano to approach her

“I'm happy because of them.” She says, her green eyes staring back at yours

“Good. I'm glad. You seem different now.” Your eyes filled with tears, turning your back to her as you wiped the tears from your eyes

“Dance with me?” You take the hand on your shoulder, and let her guide you in dancing. Waltz has always been your favorite.

“I felt like we've done this before.” She says, her head dropping on your shoulders

“Perhaps in another life.” You concluded, spinning her

As you continue dancing to the silent music, you can't help but think how much you loved this woman. And that you could never handle the pain of letting her go again.

You also knew what this felt like. Farewell. Last Dance. You held her closer.

Natasha was saying farewell.

Natasha was saying farewell.

Natasha was saying farewell.

Natasha was saying farewell.

Natasha was saying farewell.

But you can't let her go. Not now. Not when you just accepted that you do love her, you're in love with this divine being, you're in love with Natasha Romanoff.

Even when no one taught you how to love, even when you knew love is for children, even when you know she's too good for you, even when she's an entirely different person when she's with you, her gentle gazes drown you, even when you know you're not worth of even touching her. You still accepted that you are in love. You are in love with Natalia Alianovna Romanoff.

And you know she feels the same. So why?

Why?

Why was she walking away now?

Why?

Why?

Why are you letting her get away?

Why?

Why?

Why did you let her break your peace?

Why?

Why did you let her break you?

“Take care of yourself.”

Four words and the sight of her back getting farther and farther away is enough to completely shatter your already broken heart.

Madame B was right. Love is for children.

Natasha didn't need to look back.

She couldn't

Not when your sobs ring throughout the whole studio

Natasha once again held back her tears.

Natasha once again held back the words.

Natasha once again held back her feelings.

Natasha once again held back her tears.

She can never get you back now can she?

Natasha held her tears back.

I.

Pain. Dark. Cold.

That was all you felt right now.

Hours ago, you fulfilled another promise you made when Natasha left you. To make her feel pain. To make her feel the pain she caused you. You fought the Avengers one by one. Catching them off guard and capturing them. Creating cells for them and them only.

You created an elaborate trap for all of them.

You wanted all of them to feel your pain.

You wanted them to know the feeling.

The feeling. The feeling of pain you felt every time Natasha chose them over you.

The feeling of pain when they stole Natasha over and over again.

But you knew you were only making excuses for yourself.

Who could blame you?

Well, all of them apparently.

And then you saw how Natasha fought for them. Screaming for you to let them go. Her resolve never faltering as she fought, taking the floors of the building by storm. Reaching each area where you keep each Avenger captive.

It was then you knew.

They were the villains in your story. Always in the way of you getting your princess back.

Oh how blind and foolish you were.

You were always the villain in their story. The ex-hydra agent who killed more than The Winter Soldier and Black Widow combined. You were the evil sorcerer.

And them? They were the royal knights protecting the Queen.

You scoffed at yourself. Of course you would make a grave mistake. You let yourself drown in the emotions you weren't supposed to have anyways.

“That heart is what'll get you killed. Mark my words, Silence.” Madame B's last words before you killed her.

You deactivated the whole building before leaving a note for Natalia.

You teleported to the rooftop, letting the air kiss your skin. You let yourself enjoy.

Because for once in your life, you don't know what happens next.

“... Atrax.”

“Widow.”

“How could you?”

“...A circle has no beginning nor end. What happens in the beginning shall happen again in the end to fulfill the cycle.” You say, drawing your dagger and turning to face her in all her glory.

The Sun's rays gently touches her skin, leaving her glowing slightly. This. This is one of the many memories you wish to remember when you get reincarnated once again.

She pulls out a familiar dagger. The one you gave her before you blew up that one mansion.

“Are we really going to end this way?” She says, anger and pain shone in her eyes as her face mimicked an emotionless stare.

“It would seem so.”

And so the clashing of blades began. Punch after punch. Kick after kick. Takedowns after takedowns. You don't want to lose. And neither does she.

You both then engaged into what you can call, the dance of death. With the clashing daggers as the music and combat as your choreography.

And then Natasha changed the rhythm. Using her dagger to slice your cheek, just as you did her in Budapest. But that also caused her to open a weak spot of hers.

Ignoring the pain, you decide to change the rhythm as well. Moving like a snake, tangling your feet to hers, making her fall down. You then slammed your boot on her chest, slowly putting pressure, slowly smashing her ribs, making her clutch your ankle, trying to gasp for air.

“Any last words Nat- Black Widow?” You ask, pointing the dagger right above her heart.

“...I love you.” Natasha finally let the three words out of her mouth, regretting not saying it earlier.

You tensed up, your shoulders tensing. Anger flared in your eyes.

Why now?

Why?

Is this fake?

Is she lying?

Why?

“Why now?” You whispered, not even bothering to hold back your tears.

You're tired.

Too tired.

“I always did. I just- Ugh. I just never had the courage to tell you.” She grunts out, trying to push your foot away, but you ended up digging it into her deeper.

“...Liar.” You gritted out, swiftly plunging the knife deep in her heart, enjoying the feel of her blood slowly emerging from her heart, the sight of the life in her eyes slowly fade.

You broke your ritual. You didn't turn her back to you. You saw her face.

…

Why?

Because you didn't kill her.

Natasha thought she was dead. In fact, she felt your dagger dig into her skin.

So why?

Why does she feel your hand in hers.

Right...

You have powers.

…

You have powers.

She instantly opened her eyes, her brain catching up.

“NO! What have you done! You stupid! Reckless! Piece of Shit!” She says, she slaps your face as she sees your eyes closing.

Pain Transfer.

You transferred her pain to your body. You transferred her lethal wound into yours. You sacrificed yourself to save her from the death that you, yourself, caused

You basically killed yourself.

“Forgive me, Natalia. I broke our promise.” You pulled her bloody hand from your chest and held it tightly in your hand.

“You promised to stay alive as long as I am. You never break your promises.” Natasha held her tears back, crying will make it real.

Your death isn't real. No. But loving you is.

She never got the chance to show you how much she loves you.

“This is our reality Nat. I was foolish to think I could ever change it...” You trailed off, coughing out blood. This was the first time you thanked your powers for moving so slow. You have more time. With her. And that's all you could ever ask for,

“...Stop crying Natalia. Heroes always win remember? Besides, I knew you'd let yourself die before you ever think of killing me, so I did it myself.” You grinned at her as best as you can.

“Idiot.” She whispered

“I love you too you know? Please remember that I love you. They love you too. But I love you the most.” You whispered back, the moonlight shining on your bare skin.

Natasha always go back to that night you shared whenever she sees the moonlight, but now, it's corrupted by the feeling of your grip slowly loosening, until it's only her that's holding on.

It was you who always held on.

You held on to the bond no matter how many times you got hurt because of it.

You held on to the hope that someday, you'll get to call her yours, and she gets to call you hers.

You held on, even as she repeatedly let you go.

And she can't help but regret that. She regrets it so much more now.

Now, she's the only one left.

There was nothing more to hold on to.

Nothing but the promise of living a life without you by her side.

Nothing but the memory of your smile.

The memory of you scolding her every time she got hurt.

Memories of you laughing

Memories of you dancing. Dancing with her.

She doesn't know how to say bye to you.

She doesn't know how to let you go now.

It seems like, she's done it so much that she forgot how to do so now.

She remembers every single promise you made. And the one promise you broke.

She can only hope that you can forgive her.

She's going to make you break your own promise.

But it's void now right?

You're gone.

She can cry now right?

She can cry as she reads the last letter you left?

She can cry as she reads the journal where you put all your memories in, because you're afraid of forgetting her, right?

She can cry as she opens the velvet box right?

She can cry as she puts the ring you left her as her necklace right?

She can cry as she reads that all your properties are now hers, right?

She can cry now.

She can let go of her feelings now.

But she can never let you go.

And then, for once Natasha used FRIDAY's soundproof function.

For once. Natasha let her emotions run rampant.

For once, she cried. She sobbed. She screamed. As if it'd make you come back.

If you were foolish enough to think that you can change reality, Then Natasha was foolish enough to hope you come back.

Natasha couldn't hold her tears back anymore.

Taglist: @jj-arms​ @satxnsupreme​ ​

[ythmir-writes]

Fictober 2021, Day 01

Prompt: "I need you." Fandom: Ikemen Prince feat: Chevalier Michel Audience: general Tags: tw blood, injury

Over the course of time I had spent evaluating Rhodolite’s Princes, I had learned that Chevalier Michel had three kinds of grip.

First, was the one that barely grazed skin, barely touched. It was a grip because he pinned you with his eyes, judged you from afar for what worth you had, the weight of scrutiny crossing whatever distance was between you and settling like a heavy, inescapable weight.

Second, was the grip that touched only to push or throw away. A touch meant to disarm, dislocate, or dispose – whichever was needed to get something or someone out of his way. A touch that lingered long enough only to make sure the other didn’t.

The third was the one that did actually physically made contact. His hand vice-like around a collar, an arm, or throat. On good days, it would bruise. On bad days, whoever he was holding wouldn’t live long enough to feel that grip relax.

And at the moment, he was holding me with a grip that was all three.

“Drop it.” Chevalier held me near him, lips just barely grazing my own. His hand was around my wrist, the other on my other hand, twisting it out of the way and planting it on the balcony’s railing. Never mind the rose thorns digging unto both our palms. All the while his eyes bore into mine like they held the secrets of the universe, like if he could step any further, look any harder, he would understand the how and the why.

The sound of the ball seemed so far away. The revelry a faint sound drowned by the thundering of blood in my ears and the silent gasps our breathing.

Any other day, any other circumstances except for this, I would have found the entire situation endearing. Heartfelt. Romantic, even. Chevalier was handsome. Smart. Terrifyingly so in both. And I could not deny my attraction to him any more than I could deny the damning situation he found me in.

One thing to know about daggers. Another thing entirely, to see it brandished and thrust towards you.

And that particular dagger was now pinned between us, and with one movement it could end my life.

Or his.

I tried to shift my weight but Chevalier, heavier, ambidextrous, and having the advantage of leverage, refused to budge. I knew he had me where he wanted me; he had caught me, cornered me literally with a dagger meant to kill him in my hands – and between him and the doors that promised escape was just enough space for him to kill me if he wished. His eyes told me he wouldn’t hesitate.

But I could try. A dagger was a weapon dangerous only if it was used in surprise and quite frankly, with the way we were vying for control over the small blade, there would be no such thing. If I twist left, Chevalier’s arm would be long enough to plant the dagger in my back – but only just. It would not kill me. It would be incredibly painful. I would probably falter. But it would not stop me from sprinting away from him to jump and –

“Fall to the briars below and trap yourself in its thorns.” Chevalier finished my thoughts for me, looking a little bit disappointed at the desperation in my plan. “The thorns would leave a thousand cuts to bleed you dry. And even if you did survive that, then sickness.”

“Delightful.” I scowled.

“Would you like to know how briar’s poison would slowly rob you of every rational thought?” Chevalier angled his head slightly. “Then again, you must not have any left with the madness you’re trying to pull.”

I bared my teeth at him. From my angle, it only looked as if I meant to kiss him. “I’m sure you have a dozen other bits of knowledge you would like to impose upon me.”

“Feisty even when staring at death.”

“Five hundred pairs of eyes on us.” I said, grabbing at a thread of hope. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Five hundred and fifty two, with the guards.” Chevalier answered. “You shouldn’t have dared.”

“Kill me, then. Get it over it with.”

“Don’t be absurd.” Chevalier shifted, leaving space for me to breathe. “We are in the middle of a ball to celebrate your coming into the family. All these would come to waste.”

“Sure. Suddenly, royalty concerned themselves with gold spent on frivolity.”

“I never waste a coin.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I shook my head. “Sariel can find a new Belle before they can find my body I’m sure.”

Chevalier’s tone was colder. “He will not.”

I ignored the dread that settled over me. “Which one? Find another Belle or my body?”

Chevalier frowned. And his grip, impossibly, tightened all the more.

For a moment, I thought he was going to break my wrist then and there. I'd seen him do it, seen him grab and twist and stay despite the screaming. I's seen him do worse. The five hundred fifty two pairs of eyes would not be enough to stop him.

I closed my eyes and braced for it, for the harrowing sound of bone cracking, for the pain that would shoot up my arm and back.

But it didn’t come.

Instead, I felt his lips near my ear. A jarring enough sensation for me to gasp, move, to try in vain to escape, only for the tip of the dagger to dig enough into me to hurt.

“I need you.” Chevalier whispered with so much urgency I could only think of it as a confession. “Do not make me do this again.”

I did not know which horrified me more. The realization that he would not even hesitate to stab me, that I understood he was actually steadying me so as not to hurt me more –

Or that I believed him, despite the blood quickly staining our shirts.

[we-love-imagines]

How about one where Jotaro has a crush on the reader but he thinks the reader likes Kakyoin, so he tries to get them be together. Reader notices this, gets frustrated by it, and confesses to Jotaro out of said frustration

I really liked this ask!!! Thank you so much anon! I’m sorry this took so long, my ask box was being mean, but I hope you enjoy! I’m going to start writing more frequently again- I took a little break after Christmas Countdown!

warning: some naughty words and a sprinkle-dinkle of angst!

Ripping off the Band-Aid

Jotaro couldn’t take it anymore.

How you looked at him, how you laughed at all his jokes, how happy you two seemed together- it hurt more than words could express. Jotaro, over the course of your journey to Cairo, had somehow learned to love you; but he saw how you didn’t return his feelings, that much was obvious. There was little question in his mind that you and Kakyoin had a thing for each other. Yet, that isn’t what hurt the most.

It was the lack of closure that really stung; the feeling that he still had a chance with you clawing in the back of his mind every time he saw you and Kakyoin. Frankly, he wished you two would just get together already so he could pack away his feelings and be done with them. If he knew you were taken, forever out of his reach, he could let you go. But this weird limbo you were in, where you were simultaneously attainable and out of his grasp, was torture.  

While Kakyoin certainly wasn’t outgoing, he was far more approachable than Jotaro was. Of course you would prefer him; Kakyoin was nicer, smarter, and overall the better option compared to him. Jotaro really wanted to beat himself over the head sometimes, wondering if he’d be in Kakyoin’s position if he had just been a little nicer. Getting sick of all the ‘what if’s’ and heartache, Jotaro made the decision to get you and Kakyoin together as soon as possible. That was the only hope he had to pack away his jealousy, and put this stupid feeling behind him.

It started small, of course. Jotaro would distance himself from you and Kakyoin, giving you two a lot more time alone together than you were accustomed to. This technique quickly grew more obvious, like when Jotaro would whisper to the Old Man to let you two room together or insisting you both sit in the back during long car rides. While you enjoyed your time with Kakyoin, of course, both of you started to notice Jotaro’s desire that you two stay together at all times. When it was just the two of you, it felt like there was a piece missing- the third member of your little trio.

Jotaro got tired of you two still dancing around each other’s feelings, so he upped the ante. Pushing aside how much it hurt, he’d throw the old man’s money away on flowers and jewelry for you, writing “From: Kakyoin” on the little tags and leaving them in your hotel room. While he was never into this lovey-dovey type shit, part of him wished he could address this sweet, romantic gifts from himself. 

He didn’t know where he was going with this idea- you weren’t stupid. If Kakyoin admitted to you that he didn’t give you these gifts, you’d probably think it was some sick prank. For once, he hoped Kakyoin would lie to you, claim it was his doing and confess, so this could all be over with. Even if you did think it was some mean joke Jotaro was trying to pull, who cares? Maybe you and Kakyoin could bond over your shared hatred of him.

After a few of these incidents, your patience was beginning to wear thin. At this point, Jotaro refused to speak to you and Kakyoin outside of conflict, always ducking away the moment you three were alone together. Not to mention the weird, frequent gifts; it was clear Kakyoin wasn’t getting them for you, seeing as he freaked out and assumed the strange objects in your room were part of an enemy Stand. Quickly discovering it wasn’t part of a ploy to kill you, you figured that it must be from another member of the group- you had a sneaking suspicion of who it could be.

The next time you checked into a hotel, you hatched a plan with Kakyoin to catch your mysterious benefactor red-handed. While you two were “hanging by the pool,” Hierophant Green remained in the hotel room, watching and waiting for them to deliver the goods. 

Wouldn’t you know it, Jotaro shuffled into the room, looking around to make sure the coast was clear. When he saw you weren’t there, he pulled back his large, black coat to reveal a little bouquet of daisies, scribbling “From: Kakyoin” on the tag, leaving as quickly as he came.

Something in you was deeply hurt by this, rage pooling in your gut as you stood up from your poolside chair.

“I knew it!” you exclaimed to Kakyoin, your eyebrows knitting tightly as you spoke, “That bastard’s been messing with us! I’m gonna go give him a piece of my mind!”

As you began to stomp away, Kakyoin called for you to wait just a second, to try and calm down before you went to confront him. However, his words fell on deaf ears, your face going red out of pure frustration. Jotaro has the gall to ditch you and Kakyoin out of nowhere, try and push you two together at all times, and now he’s trying to fool you? Nuh-uh. Not on your watch. You were determined to figure out his little game so you could figure out why he wanted you out of his life so badly. 

Behind all your anger was genuine hurt- someone you cared about very, very deeply looked like he wanted nothing to do to you. You deserved an explanation at least.

Angrily marching up to his hotel room door, you knock with resounding force before waiting for him to answer. After a moment, the door opened up, Jotaro’s eyes widening when he saw the furious look on your face. Before he could shut the door on you, you placed your foot in the doorframe, forcing yourself in with an angry glare.

“You’re not getting out of this one, Jojo,” you practically snarled, crossing your arms as you stood before him, “You owe me an explanation.”

Without skipping a beat, Jotaro dryly remarked, “Kakyoin asked me to do it.” In his mind, Jotaro felt like shit for what he was doing; the fact that you were this upset surprised him, but he didn’t let that show on his face. His bold-faced lie only seemed to heat you up further, the hurt in your heart threatening to boil over.

“Don’t spout Bullshit at me, Jotaro. Since you’ve been making me and Kakyoin spend every waking moment together, he’d never have the time to buy anything.”

Jotaro, in his usual emotionally-unavailable fashion, remained stone-faced as he turned away from you. He was trying to suppress his feelings, trying to put the pain of hurting you aside so all of this could be over and done with. While he felt you staring daggers into his back, he tried his best to pretend you weren’t there, searching for the TV remote in the hopes you’d just go away- go away and find Kakyoin, that is.

You were both used to fighting in the literal sense, beating the snot out of enemy Stand users on the regular. However, fights like these, arguments about emotions and friendship and junk, were somehow a million times scarier for Jotaro. He couldn’t just hit the problem until it stopped moving, he had to sit down and sort out his feelings- the very feelings he was trying to keep hidden.

While Jotaro wanted to ignore you, you were done being ignored by him. Your bubble of anger burst as Jotaro grabbed the remote, sending your Stand to slap it out of his hands and forcefully turn him around to face you.

“You know how much it hurts when you try to push me and Kakyoin away? How much we miss hanging out with you?” you spit at him, words spewing out of you as everything boiled over, “I dunno what you’re trying to do with the flowers and boxes of chocolate, but it isn’t funny. If you’re trying to get me and Kakyoin together or something, it won’t work- I don’t like him like that. I like you like that!”

Clutching a hand over your mouth, you couldn’t believe what you said. By the uncharacteristic blush on his face, Jotaro couldn’t believe it either. Ever since he saved your ass from Yellow Temperance, you’ve definitely had a thing for Jotaro. That thing grew and grew, especially in his absence; in all honesty, that’s probably why his trickery hurt you so badly. Both of you stood motionless, silence hanging in the air as you both waited for the other to speak.

After a few long, deafening moments, Jotaro finally croaked out, “So... you’re not into Kakyoin?”

“Only as a friend,” you squeaked out in response, your cheeks reddened and blazing hot, “Did you think me and Kakyoin were...?”

“-Yes.”

Again, both of you just stared at each other, trying to gauge what the other was thinking. You had just confessed your feelings to Jotaro, and other than his pink cheeks, his stoic face remained the same. Little did you know, his stomach was doing backflips, his mind racing at a mile a minute trying to comprehend what you had said. 

You liked him? You really, really liked him? Like that?

He practically short-circuited, anything about DIO or the outside world gone from his mind; to him, it felt like the entire universe was just this room, and you two were it’s sole inhabitants.

“Jotaro?” you mumbled his name weakly, breaking him out of his reverie. He didn’t realize how long you’d both been standing there, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as the prolonged silence left you wondering if your feelings were returned.

“I- I, um-” he stuttered, quickly trying to regain his composure, “I thought you and Kakyoin had feelings for each other, so I tried to help you two out.”

“Oh, I see,” was all you managed to mumble out, your mind swirling with thoughts of rejection. Was this a subtle way to tell you to get lost? If he wanted you and Kakyoin to get together, he probably didn’t feel the same. You turned to leave, trying to hold back tears as you reached for the door’s handle.

“(Y/n),” he stopped you, grasping you by the wrist. You turn to face him, his grip sliding towards your hand as you found yourself closer to him than ever before.

“I tried to get you and Kakyoin together because I thought I didn’t have a chance with you. I thought it would make me feel better,” he admitted, his face now fully red as he averted his gaze from yours, “You know I’m bad with the mushy stuff, but I like you, (Y/n). A lot.”

Both you didn’t realize how good hearing that out loud would make you feel. Wordlessly, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. His body was still for a moment, almost as if he didn’t believe this was really happening, but eventually his tenseness melted away as he returned your physical affection. Jotaro felt a little dizzy, but in a good way- he was so surprised you felt the same way, it made him delirious.

“I’m sorry I got so angry,” you whispered into his chest, arms slowly pulling off of him, “Me and Kakyoin really missed you.”

“I’ll try not to overdo it next time,” he chuckled, looking down to meet your eyes again. You jokingly punched him in the arm, trying to muster up an angry expression despite how good you felt.

“There won’t be a next time doofus!”

As you both laughed together, you tried your best to memorize the rare joyful look on Jotaro’s face. You had a feeling you’d be seeing it more often.

[silversatoru]

the thin line between hope and despair

yelena x gn! reader

synopsis: you’re in love with yelena, and she feels nothing for for you. constant hook-ups and faded morals = very messy feelings

tags/warnings: nsfw, some smut?, angst, unrequited love, one-sided feelings, fuck buddies

word count: 2.5k

a/n: for my my sweet bby girl @brandmeyelena <3

Yelena knows what she’s doing with you isn’t right — on so many fucking levels. Taking advantage of your utter desperation for her over and over again when she knows damn well that she couldn’t care less about you. It wasn’t fair, especially for you, but she just couldn’t really find it in herself to feel sorry for someone so pitiful. You were so willing to devote yourself to her in exchange for mere crumbs of her affection, and it was pathetic. You left a sour taste in her mouth, a taste of sorrow and complete wretchedness, but you were also the perfect distraction. The perfect relief from all of her stress and all of her responsibilities with the volunteers. She was tired, and you were just so damn desperate to make her feel better — so how could she refuse? The answer was simple, she couldn’t.

That exact thought process is what landed her here today, with her fingers around your throat and your eyes rolled back into your head. She knows you love it too, being used like this — the way your cheeks grow flushed and your eyes get foggy when she cuts off the circulation to your brain. But she doesn’t do it for you — Yelena enjoys these things just as much as you do, her power hungry ego being fervently stroked by dominating you like this. Pinning you underneath of her and giving you orders made her feel in control — and that was perfect, because god knows she isn’t in control of anything else in her life right now.

Get down, she’d hiss at you, pointing to the floor with her long, slender index finger. Your pathetic frame would sink to your knees instantly, wordlessly doting to her every command. She’d lean back on her shoulders, her hips propped on the edge of the bed, and give you an expectant look. You know what to do. Do it, her voice would snarl, her empty eyes swirling with hunger. You’d feverishly obey, launching yourself forward and graciously opening your mouth for her pussy. You were dedicated to your craft, taking your time and ensuring that your tongue consumed every inch of her. Yelena’s head would fall back and, raspy, wet noises gurgled from her throat. She was entirely consumed by this twisted bliss — and she was a horrible monster for letting you do these things to her, but she felt far too good to care.

So now here you were, your tongue buried deep inside her while you worked desperately to make her feel better. She was quieter than usual today — the only things to leave her lips were small groans and half-assed insults. Things like the occasional “faster” while she pulled your hair, or “stupid slut” when you weren’t doing things quite right. The slander only made you work harder however, and honestly anything that came out of the blonde woman’s mouth was music to your ears. You stared up at her with rose-colored glasses, living in a delusional world where you truly believed Yelena cared about you.

It was a dreadfully fucked up dynamic — this relationship the two of you had, if it could even be called that. One of you lived in a terrible fantasy of what could be and the other was practically incapable of feeling human emotions. It was truly only a matter of time before the world started burning around the two of you.

A very short matter of time.

Yelena was spasming underneath of you now, warm juices and shaky convulsions racking through her body and into your mouth. You drove your tongue deep against her contracting walls, your eyes squeezed shut. A disgustingly sticky mixture of her fluids and your own saliva dripped down your chin as you finally pulled away, a bitter taste hanging on your tongue.

And Yelena was always quick to leave, she never stuck around any longer than she had to. She came, she came, and then she’d pull shitty excuses out of her ass as to why she needed to leave so soon. Those reasons more often than not consisted of one person — Zeke Yeager. Whether or not there was something romantic between the two, or if she was just highly devoted to him, you could never tell. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to know, honestly, because the answer might just break your heart.

Why don’t you stay tonight, Lena? You looked over at her as she pulled her trousers up her long, gangly legs. You craved something deeper with her, something more than just occasional casual sex — but it was really too bad that she didnt reciprocate those feelings at all. Sorry, there's a meeting tonight. I have to go. She’d respond, her voice dull as she carelessly brushed you off and slipped on her boots.

Will Zeke be there? Your voice always got low when you talked about him, but you made intentional efforts to hide the jealousy in your tone. Of course he’ll be there, he is the leader, she’d state dully as if this was obvious, and maybe it was, but it still made your chest ache.

You spend a lot of time with him lately, even outside of meetings, you’d state your observations out loud for the first time. Confrontation wasn’t something you enjoyed, and you certainly weren’t any good at explaining your feelings either. But your heart was starting to nag you lately, and you needed to voice your opinions before it was too late.

We’re preparing for a war, her eyes grew incredibly narrow, try not to make such selfish accusations right now. The words were like daggers of guilt stabbing between your ribs. Yelena had a way with words — a shiny silver tongue that always made you believe what she said without a doubt. You started to believe that you were being selfish — after all the war was very real and Yelena was very involved, that's probably all it was.

You’re right, I’m sorry. I just wish you were around more. Your voice was much quieter now, shame and remorse churning in your stomach -- maybe you would have been better off not saying anything at all.

We’re busy. You have to understand where I’m coming from here. It’s hard for me to make time right now, she’d continue to spew nonsense into your impressionable ears. She didn’t like that you were starting to question her, not at all. She’d say whatever you needed to hear to keep you around at this point — she didn’t plan on losing her little fuck-toy anytime soon. If you needed a little affection to keep you complacent, then she’d just need to put on a little show for you.

Come here, I’m sorry, her tone grew softer, but not at all sincere. You helplessly sunk into her spindly arms, and she pulled you tight to her chest. Just hold on until after the war, okay? Once we make the world a better place, we can do whatever you want.

More false hope, false promises, and false reassurance. The war would be brutal, you’d probably die at some point in a terrible event of collateral damage. You’d die and then Yelena would never need to fulfil her empty promises -- it was that easy, and you’d never know the difference.

That sounds nice, you’d smile, your heart warming at the idea of living in a free world with Yelena by your side. You fell ignorantly for her words, missing every single warning sign and every single red flag. Maybe if you’d noticed the subtle darkness in her eyes, the strain in her tone, or the way she hugged you a little too roughly, you could have saved yourself from the ensuing heartbreak. Or maybe if you had realized that with you being a scout and her being a follower of Zeke, it was unlikely that the two of you would ever work out. But you stupidly refused to consider any of these things, and it was going to cost you your heart.

That fateful memory was a few months ago, and now the both of you were in Marley, anxiously waiting for Eren’s plan to unfold. You were partnered with your friend Connie, his lips twisting into a thin line as the two of you hid in the shadows on top of an industrial building. You were incredibly capable with your 3dm gear, and even more capable with the new gun technology, but you were practically useless with your head in its current state. You watched the streets with fervent eyes, dashing them up and down nearby alleyways and hoping for any sign of Yelena. The attack hadn’t even started yet, but not knowing her whereabouts made you incredibly uneasy. She was probably wherever Zeke was, of course, but you liked to think that wherever she was, she was worried about you too.

Yelena was hiding in plain sight, dressed in a traditional Marleyan Army uniform with fake facial hair wrapped around her chin. She did as she was ordered, trapping two of the titan shifters in a large hole and then retreating back to her position. She was focused solely on her task, and on Zeke and how she could ensure his safety, and honestly, the thought of you hadn’t crossed her mind once tonight.

When Eren’s attack came, it came suddenly and violently -- and it was like nothing you’ve ever seen before, or at least not since the colossal and armored titans attacked so many years ago. Before you could even take in the horrifying scene in front of you, Connie was grabbing your hand and ushering you to run, the two of you taking off with your 3dm gear. You couldn’t stop your eyes from wandering as your body swung through the air, frantically searching the streets for the tall, blonde woman who owned your heart. But maybe you should have paid less attention to finding her, and more attention to where you were going.

Connie’s shrill scream shook you to your core, and at first you didn’t even notice the array of guns pointed right at the two of you. A group of Marleyan soldiers were lined up atop a building, every single nozzle of their firearms preparing to shoot at you and Connie. Your friend shot his gear downwards, swooping underneath the scope of the guns and shouting at you to follow him. And you tried, you really did, but you were horribly distracted and accidentally shot your gear into the very edge of a building. The hook crumbled the corner of the building and was unable to secure itself, sending you hurling to the ground beneath you. Your breath was wiped clean from your chest as you smacked against the ground, dust and dirt filling your lungs. Connie was forced to swing up onto a higher building, narrowly avoiding the bullets and unable to come down after you. Your bones ached as you peeled yourself off the ground, looking up just to see pieces of rubble hurling towards you. What the FUCK, Eren? You silently cursed out that irresponsible titan boy, scrambling to avoid the giant chunks of building that were quickly getting closer.

You thought you’d made it, your heart beat gushing in your ears as you launched yourself towards another building, only to be knocked back down by a slab of broken concrete. Pained yelps squeezed out from your throat as your body fell helplessly back to the ground. This fall did a number on you, your ears ringing and your head pounding with a dull pain. The large piece of rubble had crashed into one of your legs, rendering your leg immobile and absolutely crushing your gear. Connie couldn’t help you, not when saving you guaranteed his own demise — you needed to do this on your own, unless-

“Yelena!” You called out to the towering woman who was stumbling towards you. Her arm was wrapped around an injured Zeke, and she was working hard to carry him to safety. Levi must have rocked his shit again, you’d have to thank him for that if you made it out of this alive.

Yelena stopped momentarily when she saw your mangled leg, but not even an ounce of concern crossed her determined face. She looked you up and down, and then glanced down at Zeke as if she was weighing her options.

“I’m sorry,” She shot you a horribly unsypathetic look, dragging her gaze away from you and hurrying off with the injured blonde boy.

It was so simple, so short, and there wasn't the smallest hint of remorse in her voice. Your brain couldn’t process how easy it was for her to leave you there, your mouth hanging open in a small “o”. You would give your life for Yelena, and she didn’t even blink when you were faced with certain death — and that’s when it all started to set in. The delusional facade that you’d imagined between the two of you was shattering, small pieces of glass memories crashing and crumbling around you. The cruel owner of your pitiful heart felt nothing for you, and it had taken this long for you to finally realize.

All of the days and nights the two of you spent entangled in each other's arms had meant nothing. All of the time you spent with your lips locked against hers and her large hands caressing your body had been devoid of anything more than lust for her. Terrible embarrassment washed up inside of you as you recalled all of the sinful things you did for this cold-hearted, unfeeling woman.

Your motivation to fight was gone, your eyes locked onto Yelena’s tall figure as she ran further away and out of view. She’d picked Zeke over you again, she always did, and she always would. She practically worshiped him, like he was some kind of fucked up, twisted god. You weren’t sure why you ever thought you could compete with that.

In the midst of your complete breakdown, a firm arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you into the air. Connie had come back for you, cold air stinging your face as the two of you shot up to the safety of a tall, nearby building.

“Fuck, y/n, stop being so careless! And I hope you’ll finally give up on that lanky bitch after she walked right past you like that,” he let out an exasperated breath, slumping behind a large brick wall.

“Sorry… thank you,” you mumbled, “You really shouldn’t have risked your life like that”.

“No, but that’s what people are supposed to do when they care about each other. Is it finally sinking in, that she's been using you for the past year? I tried to tell you so many time-,” He continued to ramble on in frustration.

Every one of his words poured salt into your already burning wounds, tears beginning to leak from your eyes. Yelena didn’t care about you, she never did — she’d never even sacrificed time for you, never mind compromising her or Zeke’s safety for you. And you were stupidly ignorant to ever think that she saw you as more than a toy she used to pass the time.

[the-void-writes]

Friday Kiss Prompt

Thank you @italiangothicwriteblr for the tag!

Rules: Post a snippet of a kiss, be it soft or intense, platonic or romantic, as long as there’s a smooch 🥰

I’ll leave this one open for now, but I’ll tag @bloodlessheirbyjacques because I finally got the Gazali and Romero snippet to work 😏🤣

Shadows darted from the corners of Gazali’s eyes, a sensation he associated with one particular man. He ducked just in time as Romero’s dagger flew over his head. It stuck in the wall behind him, and Romero ran to grab it, but Gazali took the chance to grab him and push him up to the wall. They dangled in his grip, kicking wildly to try and break free.

“Well,” Romero hissed, “I’m glad your reflexes are still sharp.”

“You can’t take my blood again Romero. I can’t allow it.”

“I’m not here for that.”

Gazali huffed. “What, is throwing a knife just your idea of a flirt?”

“I just need you to call down that crescent bastard. I’m ready for him.”

The king shook his head. “Aphelion won’t listen to me, you know that.”

“He needs to pay for what he’s done.”

“Romero, please. I wish I could help you, but there’s nothing I can do.”

“You mean you don’t want to do it.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Then why won’t you—”

“We can’t fix anything! We can’t even bring back the dead! Don’t you think I’ve tried?”

Gazali wiped away his tears, still keeping Romero up.

“It’s terrible, I know… To be the one that survived.”

Romero stopped struggling, his dark and crazed stare seeming to relax as Gazali took a deep but shaky breath.

“Forgive me, please. If I could give you back your family, I would. It’s not fair to you.” He shook his head again. “But I can’t let you fight Aphelion. He will kill you, and I’ll never forgive myself for it.”

For one moment, Romero felt lighter in his hands. They held his wrists loosely.

“So what, then? Do you want me to just disappear, get a house in the country?”

“You’re more than welcome to stay with us, Romero. My friends will treat you well.”

Romero reached up and tore off his mask, revealing the disfiguration that Aphelion had left him with. Exposed teeth and flesh, all scared and tender, like someone had just pressed red mud onto a canvas.

“You look at me, and tell me that your people would let me walk those streets.”

They waited for an answer, watching Gazali argue with himself in his mind. With the new distraction, Romero managed to kick him in the stomach, falling to the floor. He grabbed his dagger from the wall and tried to leave, but Gazali grabbed him and pulled him closer.

“They would let you… I’d beg them to.”

Romero glared at him. “Why?”

The air felt still around them. Gazali’s mind and heart were pulling him in different directions, and against his better judgement, he let his heart win. He kissed the dreaded godkiller, careful not to aggravate their wounds. The contrast between soft lips and jagged skin was obvious, but it didn’t bother the king, at all. Romero felt limp in his arms, so Gazali pulled away, hoping he hadn’t crossed a line. For the smallest of seconds, Romero tried to meet his lips again. That was when his eyes flew open, ashamed of himself for wanting more.

“Romero?”

They hopped down from Gazali’s arms and turned away slowly.

“I need to… think for a bit.”

He shuffled down the hallway, and Gazali was about to go and mull over what he had done, but hurried footsteps came up behind him. Gazali turned just in time for Romero to jump back into his arms.

“Fuck it,” they said.

Romero kissed him much more intensely, sending Gazali’s pulse skyrocketing. The king carried him to his room, thankful that Frank was with Alex and Javi for the night so he didn’t have to immediately explain their potential new partner. They didn’t go very far that night, just enjoying the closeness and affection, the contact that Romero hadn’t had in years. For one moment, he could drown out the voices and pain, and let his king treat him like royalty.