#Hollow Mats

[kapoormatsblog]

Hollow Floor Mat, Rubber Ring Mat, Hollow Foot Mats in Delhi, India

Kapoor mats and steel is manufacturer, exporter and supplier of Hollow Floor Mat, Indoor Outdoor Rubber Ring Mat, Hollow Foot Mats, Hollow Mats, Hollow Door Mat from Delhi, India.

[allykatsart]

Gravedigger Radiance, she will live an uneventful life in service of others, never once reclaiming the might she once carried. And one day she will die an ordinary death, just as anyone else.

[nonuggetshere]

I realised that the last time I drew my THK gijinka design post-sealing was literally year's ago so. Time to fix that

[barefootcosplayer]

Rapture as a haunted house…….

[bobfishpresents]

❤️ European based @MicheleNitri-hollow-press publishes great comics both... @hollow-press

[tonycries]

Golden Boy - G.S.

Synopsis. Falling right back in love with the cult leader you’re supposed to kíll? Happens more often than you’d think.

Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader 

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, friends/lovers to enemies to lovers, oral (fem receiving), facesítting, creampíe, slight Gojo x Reader, running away from it, Suguru is so SOOO in love still, unprotected, spítting, kinda angsty, hurt/comfort, mentions of bIood and kníves, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.4k

A/N. I was listening to fantasmas while writing this so take that how you will LMAO.

The difficult part, surprisingly, wasn’t infiltrating Geto Suguru’s Time Vessel Association. No, a few faux tears, a decoy curse, and you were in - stepping through his grandiose hideout. The difficult part was convincing yourself that you were here to kill him. 

Something that utterly foolish little part of yourself still had trouble believing - even when you had a knife to his throat. 

“Any last words?” you spit, muffled through your mask, thankful for the way it covers up just how much your voice shakes. Maybe because of the way his lips curl into a familiar smile, maybe from his cool dagger pressing against the back of your neck.

Seconds away from a bloodbath. 

You don’t know if you’re breathing - or if he is either. Eyes locked on the way Sugur- your target only raises his hand up, up, up - getting ready to strike. To kill. Only you’d get him first and-

Snip!

You’re not dead. But you might as well have been, because your mask falls onto the tatami mat with a deafening clatter. 

“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.”

It’s hard not to remember. 

“You don’t have any right to say that.” your knees tighten around where you had him straddled to the ground. Your hand pinning one of his down, blade digging deeper into Suguru’s pale neck - eyeing the slow, steady drop of blood that beads down it. “Didn’t think you’d remember me, either.”

With your mask now no longer on your face, you could traitorously take in that relaxed grin - as if your life wasn’t in his hands right now. As if he didn’t care. 

Suguru’s hair was much longer now, splayed out across the floor inkily. Circling around his broad shoulders, around the eyes that were just a bit harder than they were ten years ago. And yet, you catch the way they flicker briefly with something so raw as he whispers gently, “How could I ever forget my first love?”

So quiet that you could’ve blamed it on your imagination - and you wish you did. 

It’s so unfair. 

Unfair how you let out a gasp, despite yourself. Unfair how you were the best sword wielder that Jujutsu had to offer, yet your fingers tremble on your knife. Heart stuttering at the mere sight of the way his eyes crinkle with the beginnings of a smile. Pleading, like all he could see was you from what felt like a thousand lifetimes ago. 

Those golden years. Back when rare Susanoomon cards were what you’d fight over, and the only stains he’d wipe off were from the grassy grounds of Jujutsu High, still faint underneath the encrusted blood on that uniform nestled away deep in his wardrobe.

You manage to grit out, “Shut up. You left me- us.”

“I did.”

Like it was all he wanted to see. 

“You never loved me.”

“I do.”

Your voice is shrill at this point, words stumbling over each other. “You’ve massacred more people than you’ve saved.”

Suguru wastes no time denying - or in any niceties. Looking right into your absolutely crazed eyes as he answers, “I have.” And his answer rings so hollow and emotionless in your ears, cold-blooded. Absolutely nothing like the boy you remembered. The one that would laugh and steal you away to take you around campus on his bicycle, all because the next class was “too far”.

“I- fuck.” You place both hands on the hilt of your blade, distantly registering the way that Suguru lets his own drop onto the floor. “I should kill you- I should kill you right now.”

Just one flick of your wrist. Fast and simple. 

In and out - exactly like you’d been ordered to. 

“And to die by your hand would be a death that someone like me doesn’t deserve.”

You both jolt when your knife hits the ground - as if neither of you were expecting it. And before you can stop yourself, you’re fisting his thick robes, pulling Suguru’s face up closer to yours. Mere inches away. 

“Then- then I’ll-” you choke, a hand coming up to dig into the sides of his milky neck, leaving neat, red indents on his skin. “I’ll kill you with my own hands, Suguru.”

And he’s known you for years - would never admit it, but was by your side for only half as long as he’d watched over you. 

Saw - only from a distance -  those big fat tears you cried at graduation, the curve of your lips as you pulled a very reluctant Nanami into a hug outside his new office building. The steely look in your eyes meeting Satoru’s much softer one, telling him first how you’re going into teaching. And the smile on your face when you thought of who else might have, too. If he’d gotten the chance.

Always hidden.

Never so close to this frenzied glint in your gaze, a tiny sob threatening to escape your lips. Never like this - and yet, he never thinks you’ve looked so beautiful. 

But what would someone like him know about beauty, anyway?

You flinch as Suguru reaches a hand up to thumb away the furrow between your brows, catching on the single, stray tear sitting at your cheekbone. Whispering - so low that you involuntarily crane your head closer to hear - “Still such a crybaby.”

“And you’re still going to be the death of me.”

Soft - Suguru’s lips are as soft as you imagined. And it’s not exactly the tender, picture-perfectly romantic first kiss his teenage self dreamt up with you, but fuck if he wasn’t going to remember this like it was. 

Perfect. 

Pretty lips smothering yours, all slow and sensual. Drinking in those deliciously breathless gasps of yours as he sucks on your candied lips. 

You gasp, “Suguru.” and it comes out teary. Making you finally register the wetness rolling down your cheeks, glistening against the dim lighting. You tighten your grip around his neck, “This won’t fix-”

“I know.” Fuck, does he know better than anyone else. 

A hand slides up your forearm, the other cupping your face to pull you closer. He’s running his hot tongue along your cheek, pooling your salty tears on his lips. “But let me make you forget - if just for tonight. Please.”

The only answer Suguru gets is your fingers leaving his neck, dancing feather-light across his sculpted shoulders to slide under his robe. Feeling the smooth plane of his pecs underneath your palm, that traitorously thundering heartbeat he wishes he could slow down. “Kiss me.”

“Fuck.” he pants into your open mouth. The sight of your glossy, slightly puffy lips having him surge forward to reattach his with yours with a pained grunt. “God- jus’ a bit more, my love.”

Again. And again and again- like he was addicted. 

He’d always been, with you, anyway.

You let out a sinful sound of his name when Suguru kisses down your neck, lips slotting over your racing pulse. Throbbing and so real under his lips, remembering how he used to feel this song under his arms long before. 

“Oh- shit.” you moan, when his now rougher - larger - hands sneak underneath your crumpled shirt, deftly unbuttoning. Unbuckling. Impatient. “Sugu-”

A hoarse groan leaves him, only spurring him to all but rip the rest of your uniform off your body faster. 

And at the first sight of you clad in nothing but your panties, Suguru’s kiss-bitten lips are falling slack. Brows shooting up into the dark strands of hair sticking to his forehead now, “Been missing out, hm?” He’s dipping a hand down to run the back of his index along your clothed, puffy folds. Up and down. “Really been-” Heart clenching when he remembers the way Satoru now looks at you with a familiar glint. One he knew all too well. “-missing out, my love.”

You’re only trailing your fingers along his cheek - his neck, grazing over that little mark from your blade. He groans - maybe from your touch, probably from the way you’re dragging your cunt across that massive bulge underneath you. “Please, Suguru. Wan’ you.” 

And if Geto Suguru has spent ten years denying himself, surely he could sacrifice it for the way he lifts your stuttering, sloppy hips up so easily. All the way up until they were hovering over his mouth, hot breath hitting your clothed cunt. 

“Wanna taste you.” he groans, spying on the way your slick beads through your panties. “Wan’ see if you’re as hah- sweet as I imagined. Please.”

And he’s obsessed with the way you’re sinking yourself down so gently, cock jumping at the thought of you afraid you’d suffocate him - as if you didn’t have your blade at his throat just minutes ago.

“Fuuuck, don’t worry, pretty.” he groans, soft darting to lick at the juices smeared across your inner thighs. “Some more now. Put it all on me, I can take it- fuck-”

Your syrupy sweet cunt has Geto losing whatever’s left of his fucking restraint, dark eyes rolling to the back of his head because you were so sweet. So pretty looking down at him with your glassy eyes. So addictive. He moans, chest heaving as he breathes in your essence. “What happened to that feist from earlier? Gonna hafta do a lil’ more than that now.”

“B-but-”

It’s at this moment you realize that at any given moment Suguru could’ve easily taken the upper hand. A hand of his pulls down your hesitant hips, swollen lips against your covered ones in such a filthy kiss. 

He hums into your folds, bunching your panties between them. “Mmm. Shit- jus’ like I imagined.” Hot tongue dipping just underneath the flimsy fabric to feel out your sloppy entrance, “Better, even. Jus’ look how well you’re taking me, pretty.”

But you don’t - too scared to find out that you’d like the sight more than you should. How you wished you could go back to the golden days where it didn’t matter - wasn’t a matter of life and death. And something else entirely. 

And this dilemma has Suguru’s brows furrowing, sharp canines lightly nipping at one of your swollen folds. Wanting to see how it’s him - despite everything, it’s still him making you feel this way. “None of that now.”

RIP!

With this you have to look down, a desperate whine leaving your stupid mouth at the fucking sinful sight down below. Your panties now a tattered excuse in between Suguru’s teeth, baring them with such a devilish grin right up at you. 

“See?” he spits out the fabric onto the floor beside him, half-lidded eyes peering up at you so sultry. Looking right at you as his tongue lolls out, spreading your bare, needy folds shamefully. “Isn’t this much better?”

“Hngh- fuck, yes-” you slide your fingers through his now-messy hair, falling out of that half-bun. Jolting on top with each push of his tongue past that feeble ring of resistance, the lewd squelches leaving you with each graze of the wet muscle against your walls. “Shit- Suguru it feels too good. So deep ngh-”

He swats a hand against your ass, making you sit your slutty hips down deeper, all the way till Suguru’s jaw was grinding so greedily against your cunt. Tongue bullying past your folds in and out in and out in and-

“God- hah-” he’s pulling away to gasp deep lungfuls of air - secondary, to the way he was back immediately to making out so hotly with your tight pussy. “Mmm fuck. This cute lil cunt is so needy. S’like you’re trynna suck my tongue off.” Thumb reaching up to draw slow, languid circles that have you throwing your head back. “So perfect.”

Your delirious mouth is dropping open, body moving before your mind as you strain to reach your hand behind. Trembling. Shaky when you manage to cup Suguru’s aching erection. 

“G-guess m’not the only one ah- needy, hm?” you smirk, having him bucking and spitting out harsh little profanities with each rub of your palm down his drenched length. 

Suguru doesn’t give you a response - because his fingers are speaking on his behalf. Dipping into your sloppy hole, locating your g-spot, as if on instinct. He’s milking your pretty cunt while he roams for those sweet spots. Lips muffling around your throbbing clit, “You’re always right, my love. You always were.”

And his words are so gentle - mouth so sloppy. Squelches so obscene. 

Nose pressing up at the top of your abdomen, cheeks hollowing wetly around the sensitive nub. Letting your juices drip all the way down his chin, his jaw, dangerously close to that cut on his neck. 

The hand sliding back and forth across the swollen outline of his cock had Suguru get more frenzied. Faster. Like it was his personal mission to make you cum on his tongue before he fucking passed out. 

Penetrating your gummy hole with both his fingers and his tongue, spreading it open more. And it’s all you can do to keen, “Oh- oh my god.” Riding Suguru’s pretty face harder. “Shit- m’close, Suguru.”

“Always right.” he gasps, swiping his tongue faster across your clit. “Always perfect” Alternating between squeezing back into your hole, your sweet spots. Stretching out your gummy walls as far as they’d go. “Always made f’me.” Assaulting it with both his fingers and his tongue. Again. And again and again and- “Jus’ wish I got to have you sooner.”

His words make you snap your eyes up from his mean mouth to meet his gaze, devouring you as greedily and depraved as his tongue. They make your thighs burn with the effort to drag your sloppy pussy faster.

They make you cum - shaking, crying out little mewls of “Ngh- fuck. M’cumming m’cumming m’cumming.”

The way your voice is breaking at the end of each moan has Suguru’s cock straining so painfully against his trousers. One hand firmly on your waist, arching you deeper to tongue you through your high in ways he’s only ever dared to imagine. 

Ways he’s selfishly hoped only he could - even after all these years, the sight of any other man looking at you wrong having his irritation flaring. 

“S’right.” his voice is sending stars bursting behind your lids, tongue even worse. Having you pleading and so sensitive. “I got you, my love. Give it t’me.” Messy - not as forgiving as he’d like to be. “Give it alllll to me.”

And you do - all but smothering Suguru’s eager tongue with all your sweet juices. Ones he’s lapping up happily, tilting his head back as far as it’d go on the floor, letting your heady slick fill up his throat. His pussydrunk lips let out a hiss, both at the burn of that cut on his neck, and the way you’re desperately pulling your hips back. 

Too overstimulated. Too fucking sensitive. Too much - but it would never be enough for Suguru. 

“Please, Suguru.” you sob at the way your limp hips are being pulled back by a needy Suguru. “M’too sensitive. I- fuck-” He’s only lapping at your quivering cunt leisurely, smirk prominent against your swollen folds. 

And it’s all you can do to deliriously slip a hand underneath his robes, a desperate attempt to keep whatever shred of sanity you have left. Fingers feeling down his unfairly toned abs, the tufts of hair at his pelvis, reaching-

“Oh fuck!” Your heavy eyes admire the way Suguru arches into your touch in surprise - like he couldn’t help himself. Eyes flying open, glossy, plump lips curling into a disbelieving grin, “Ya really are made f’me, huh?” 

That’s all it takes for Suguru to head to your lewd whims, bruising fingers on your hips finally loosening to let you sit your sloppy cunt back down on his lap - except, this time, you were seated directly on his rock-hard cock. Pussy lips spreading around his length to just soak him. 

“Oh, my love.” He sits up, splaying you out so prettily on his lap. “How I’ve missed you.”

You don’t even register the way you’re raising your head up to meet Suguru’s - not until he spits. Once. Twice. Straight onto your awaiting tongue that you didn’t even realize you were sticking out, saccharine sweet saliva making such a mess when he’s crashing his lips into yours. 

“Yeahh, like that. Kiss me like that.” he slurs against your mouth, drunk off both sets of your sweet lips. Getting out through wet, sloppy pecks. “How I wish I had you sooner.”

You can feel your heart thumping so wildly against your ribcage, matching the needy, needy staccato of Suguru’s cock throbbing between your puffy folds. And, well, you really can’t be blamed for the way you break the kiss to look down and oh-

Oh Suguru notices that furrow between your brows, kissing away the nervous little wobble in your lower lips as he grunts, “God, you’re killin’ me.” 

Fuck. Killing him?

You were the one sent in for the kill, but it seems you won’t be making it out here alive. 

Because Suguru was so big, girth rubbing up against your thighs. So angry and heavy, smearing hot precum over his abs, your cunt, adding to add to the absolute mess. Long enough that you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk out of here - which, honestly, Suguru would’ve preferred. To keep you with him forever. 

To have you always mewling so prettily when he’s dragging his fat head down your sensitive slit. To have his name - and only his name - leave your bruised lips when he’s asking, “Who’s got you this wet?” 

You’re so cockdrunk already that you’re groaning mindlessly, “You- Suguru-”

“No, that’s not what you call me.” 

And it takes you a few, long seconds to understand what he’s saying, all the while trying to focus with the leaky tip being pressed past your swollen folds. Slow. Torturous. Hitting you so violently at the same time he slips past that first, slutty ring of muscle. 

“Sugu!”

A blinding grin splits across Suguru’s absolutely fucked-out face, brows furrowing together in ecstasy. “That’s more hah- like it.” Not having heard that familiar little nickname - one of your many - fall from your lips since high school - one that makes a heart he forgot he had grow five sizes too large. “Now, just take me-” Hips bucking up, so strong and ruthless. “-like I know you can, okay?”

Over and over. 

You can’t let out anything but barely-lucid whines at this point, letting Suguru sink in inch by fucking inch. Your walls stretched out so perfectly to take his sheer size. But the stretch- oh, the stretch.

Fuck, it has you clawing at Suguru’s exposed shoulders, fingers leaving angry, red marks down the muscles. An obscene ah! ah! ah! leaving your lips with each time he reels his hips back, only to bully his aching cock inside until he physically couldn’t.

“Hngh- Sugu, s’too big-” You buck your hips down in shallow, tentative grinds to meet his filthy method of fitting in. “Too- much. Didn’t expect you to be so mean-”

“The sorcerer that hah- held a knife to the infamous Geto Suguru’s neck-” he groans, hands groping your ass to move you further down his massive cock. To watch the way your sloppy entrance was stretching out so much to suck him up. “-can take this too, right? I know you can.” He reaches a deft thumb around to toy with your pretty clit, making your cunt relax like the good girl she is. Fucking up deeper, just a bit more mean. “You- can-”

Several things happen at the tail end of Suguru’s sentence - he’s finally fitting in all in one go. With a calculated, harsh thrust up into your poor cunt, your ass is kissing his heavy balls, pussy rubbing against the hair at his hilt. So full and so much.

And Suguru knows he just might not see heaven - but shit, does he feel like he’s there right now. The feeling so good that both of you letting out mingling gasps of pleasure. 

Your back falling onto the now soiled mats like such animals, the other not far behind.

“You alright, my love?” Suguru hums against your throat when you’re managing to adjust somewhat to the stretch, aware enough to kiss the palm resting protectively underneath your head - making sure you don’t hurt yourself.

You bat your teary lashes, “Never been better, Sugu.”

And something about that makes him remember. 

Remember the way you’d tell him the exact same thing when you fought with curses too strong for you - coming back to the dorms all battered and bruised, but alive. Flashing him that addictive grin, and a crooked thumbs up, “Never been better, Sugu. Gold, actually.”

His golden girl.

Shaking away the tightness at his throat, Suguru instead focuses on wrapping your trembling legs around his toned waist. Tight.

“Sh-shit- you’re milkin’ me so good, fuck-”

Abs burning as he just drags his cock along your plushy walls, keeping your legs held wide open for him. So tight - like you were sucking the fucking soul out of him. Making sure to angle his hips in just the way that’ll have your eyes tearing at the way he was massaging all your sweet spots. 

And sure enough - “O-oh my god-” you breathe, and shit, it was so hard to speak. Suguru’s cock too big, too depraved. Speeding up with every ram of his hips into a steady, mean pace. “Jus’ like that, fuck-”

“Mhm?”

You paw at his free hand settled by the side of your neck, trailing it down, down, down - rings and all - to the part of your stomach you could feel his thick tip hitting. A slight bulge, abusing your cervix over and over, “Here-”

“-s’where I belong.”

Your brows raise at his interjection, and you swipe away the long locks of hair partially covering Suguru’s face, legs tightening around his hips as you take a long, hard look. He repeats, “S’where I belong. Where ngh- you belong.”

Like some deep, dark part of him was trying to fuck out any and every doubt about this out of you - as if you’d have any - Suguru’s rolling his hips harder into yours. All the way until it almost hurt - until the sting of his twitching balls against your ass felt permanent, fingerpads pressing down so hard on your stomach. 

Lips searing against yours, punctuating each word with a jagged, rough thrust. “Because you sh-shouldn’t be ah- here. You shouldn’t be-” He drags you deeper onto his dick like some ragdoll, fingers frenzying on your clit. “-with me.”

Words slurring and as sloppy as his hips now. 

“Wh-why fuck- why wouldn’t I be?”

“Heh, you forgot?” Suguru spits out a chuckle, pushing you further and further up the mat with how bruising his hips were hitting yours. Alternating between marking your cervix - your g-spot - your gummy walls. “Forgot how I told ya to live a better life than this?” Everything and anything. Hips smacking so loud, echoing in symphony with those melancholy words he parted with so long ago. “How I told you to hngh- find a-another? Live a long life? To be happy?”

Now that Suguru was talking, it was like he couldn’t stop. Like a damn had been broken - both with his words and his movements. The curve of his dick drives you wild, veins molding your cunt into their shape. 

Gritting his teeth to hold back the way his drenched balls squeeze so painfully, biting down on your lower lip. “You’re s-supposed to kill me.” A drop of sweat splashing down on your cheek, “To kill me and maybe you’ll be hah- fuck mine in another universe. But not this one.” It’s like he’s out of control now, “Never this one. You can have anybody else.”

And suddenly you’re having a flashback to just a week prior, to an uncharacteristically solemn Satoru telling you words you should’ve been happy to hear. Quiet, and unassuming. Ones you knew that had you heard them before knowing Suguru, you’d have jumped into his arms - exactly how he hoped you would, the day of his departure. 

Chuckling at you being such a “crybaby” about him leaving. After all, this was just meant to be, right?

But no.

Instead, you’re here. Bunching Suguru’s beautiful, glossy hair curtaining the sides of your head, into a ponytail. Difficult - with how he was getting faster. Harder. Just ravaging your hole until you were gaping and breathless.

And yet, arms trembling and limp, you still manage to reveal the boy you fell in love with - the one you could never forget. From the flush on his pretty face, to the twisted, sad curve of his mouth. And the eyes that bore into yours like they were searching for the same thing. Smiling, for the first time since you entered this place, “How could I ever want anyone else, Sugu?”

The hand on your stomach is cupping your adorable face so softly - and it’s hard to believe those hands have killed. Betrayed.

Like they were capable of doing anything but as Suguru swipes the single tear glistening down your cheek, “Still a crybaby, huh, my love?”

And then you cum - and Suguru isn’t too far behind. 

It’s just a flash of hot white, tingles running down your spine - all the way to the thick, creamy base soon forming around his wildly twitching cock. 

And it’s so good. Too good that all you can do it scream out his name, letting him do anything - and you were glad all he did was fuck you so mercilessly through your high. So violent. Addictive. 

Vision blurry, mouth sagging open for Suguru to press intimate little kisses along the corners of your mouth. Whispering sweet praises as your cunt sucks him up so good. So sinfully milking him for everything he’s worth. 

Taking in rope after rope of thick cum that warms your gummy walls from the inside, overfilling just enough for it to dribble down into the mat below in an obscene little pool. Smearing down your thighs, his balls. Heavenly. 

His heaven.

And in the haze of it all, Suguru imagines that you’ll reach for your knife again, press it back against the curve of his exposed neck. He imagines you’ll laugh in his face, tell him what a great whim this was but you had to get back to your job, turning your back on him as he has done before. He imagines.

But what he gets is your strained, fucked-out little voice, “I missed you, my golden boy.”

A/N. Yes, That Line was inspired by HTTYD. If I had to be hurt, y’all do, too. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[gyrrakavian]

Parallax: A Synthsong Story - Chapter 3: Beyond The Stars

[literaryvein-reblogs]

what are some ways to describe people other than eye and hair color

I am assuming you are looking for physical descriptors. Here are some examples. I may just make a different post on psychological descriptors.

Arms: Long, Muscular, Pudgy, Short, Skinny, Thin

Back: Bent, Hunched, Ramrod Straight, Rounded

Build: Anorexic, Athletic, Beefy, Brawny, Burly, Chubby, Coltish, Compact, Fat, Gangly, Gaunt, Gawky, Haggard, Heavy-set, Herculean, Husky, Lanky, Lithe, Muscular, Obese, Overweight, Petite, Rangy, Reed-like, Scrawny, Skinny, Slender, Slight, Solid, Spindly, Statuesque, Stocky, Strapping, Sylphlike, Taut, Thickset, Thin, Trim, Underweight, Voluptuous, Well-built, Willowy, Withered

Cheeks: Blushing, Bold, Curved, Dimpled, Bold, Curved, Dimpled, Disturbed, Glorious, Glowing, Hairless, High (cheekbones), Hollow, Honey, Livid, Pale, Pallid, Pink, Plump, Puffy, Radiant, Reddened, Rosy, Rounded, Ruddy, Shining, Smooth, Soft, Sun-burnt, Sun-bronzed, Sunken, Sun-tanned, Tanned, Tearful, White

Chin: Angular, Bony, Bumpy, Chiseled, Defined, Doughy, Firm, Protruding, Round, Smooth, Soft, Square, Strong

Ears: Jug-like, Large, Protruding, Tiny

Eyebrows: Arching, Bushy, Emphasized, Near, Spaced, Thick, Thin

Eyelashes: Artificial, Beaded, Beautiful, Blinking, Dark, Dark-fringed, Dense, Dusky, Heavily-fringed, Long, Mascaraed, Sandy, Sooty, Sopping, Tear-drenched, Thick, Uplifted

Eyes: Almond-shaped, Bright, Bulging, Expressive, Frightened, Gentle, Languishing, Little, Luminous, Made-up, Round, Shining, Shortsighted, Smart, Stunned, Thin, Wide, Woeful

Face: Baby, Blood-stained, Bold, Chiseled, Contorted, Dead, Expressionless, Fair, Familiar, Fierce, Flat, Frightened, Furrowed, Honest, Indifferent, Little, Pale, Poker, Pretty, Radiant, Rough, Ruddy, Sallow, Square, Stained, Swollen, Trim, Weather-beaten, Wry

Feet: Athlete's, Big, Flat, Pigeon-toed, Small, Sore, Stinky, Stubby, Swollen

Fingers: Gnarled, Long, Short, Stubby

Finger Nails: Bitten, Broken, Claw-like, Dirty, Hooked, Long, Painted, Sharp, Talon-like

Hair: Afro, Bald, Beehive, Braided, Bristles, Bun, Chignon, Coiffure, Combed, Corkscrew, Corn rows, Cowlicked, Crew cut, Curly, Disarrayed, Disheveled, Dreadlocks, Dry, Flattop, Flecked, French braid, French twist, Fringe, Greasy, Grizzled, Knotted, Layered, Locks, Matted, Messed up, Mohawk, Mussy, Muttonchops, Neat, Oily, Page boy, Perm, Pigtails, Plait, Pompadour, Ponytail, Ragged, Receding, Ringlets, Ruffled, Shaggy, Shorn, Shoulder-length, Skinhead, Spiky, Split-ended, Straight, Tangled, Thick, Thinning, Tidy, Topknot, Tousled, Twisted, Uncombed, Unshorn, Untidy, Wavy, Wiry, Wisps

Hand: Big, Elegant, Small

Height: Big, Knee-high, Medium, Short, Shoulder-high, Sky-high, Small, Tall, Towering, Waist-high

Legs: Amputated, Bandy, Bony, Bowed, Brawny, Bulging, Fluted, Gartered, Gouty, Graceful, Hacked, Hairy, Jagged, Knotted, Leaden, Long, Lower, Muscular, Pitiful, Rickety, Shapely, Shivering, Short, Sinewy, Slender, Slim, Spindle, Stockinged, Sturdy, Thin, Thread-like, Tinder, Tiny, Toothsome, Tree trunks

Lips: Blue, Cracked, Cupid's Bow, Downturned, Dry, Fat, Full, Grim, Large, Luscious, Parched, Parted, Red, Ruby, Small, Smiling, Thin, Wet

Mouth: Arch, Ascetic, Baby, Cavernous, Churning, Compressed, Cooing, Coral, Cracked, Cruel, Delicate, Dumpled, Distended, Dry, Fine, Firm, Frothy, Full, Funnel-shaped, Gaping, Grim, Handsome, Hungry, Insistent, Irritable, Large, Luscious, Munching, Musty, Perilous, Puckered, Querulous, Relaxed, Resolute, Sardonic, Sensuous, Serious, Slobbering, Small, Sulky, Sweet, Tender, Thin, Wide, Winsome, Wrinkled, Yawning

Neck: Bullnecked, Elegant, Long, Short, Swan-like, Thick

Palm: Broad, Oval, Rectangular, Square

Skin: Acned, Alabaster, Albino, Apricot, Black, Blemished, Blistered, Blooming, Blotchy, Blushing, Bronzed, Cadaverous, Calloused, Caramel, Clear, Craggy, Cream, Ebony, Fair, Flush, Freckled, Glowing, Greasy, Ivory, Jaundiced, Leathery, Lily-white, Lined, Milky, Mottled, Nut-brown, Olive, Pale, Pallid, Pasty, Peeling, Pimpled, Pink, Pitted, Pockmarked, Red, Rosy, Rough, Ruddy, Russet, Sallow, Scabby, Scarred, Smooth, Splotchy, Spotty, Sun-burnt, Tan, Wan, Waxen, White, Wrinkled, Yellow

Stomach: Bulging, Distended, Empty, Firm, Flabby, Flat, Heroic, Hollow, Lean, Paunchy, Protruding, Unbounded

Teeth: Artificial, Black, Blunted, Buck, Canine, Chattering, Clenched, Clinched, Compressed, Crooked, Dagger-like, Dazzling, Decayed, Deciduous, Extracted, False teeth, Feeble, Ferocious, Filed, Flashing, Fluoridated, Foam-laced, Fractured, Gap-toothed, Gleaming, Glistening, Glittering, Gnashing, Goofy, Grinding, Hooked, Horrid, Ivory, Jagged, Lacquered, Large, Milky, Mottled, Neglected, Pearly, Perfect, Pretty, Protruding, Razor-like, Sharp, Shining, Short, Small, Snowy, Sore, Spaced, Straight, Sweet tooth, Tender, Tiny, Toothless, Toothy, Ugly, Unrelenting, White, Wisdom, Wolfish, Yellow

Hope this helps! If it does, do tag me or send me a link to your writing. I'd love to read your work.

More: On Character Development

[textmel8r]

[ DRABBLE + SMAU ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( seventh installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro

୨୧˚ cw; sugar mommy! reader , sugar baby! toji , masturbation , angst , profanity , descriptions of violence , toji being a pathetic little sicko :D

୨୧˚ an; sorry this part is on the shorter side😅😅 it’s more of a filler chapter but i still like it!

It’s well past midnight when Toji slips his way back into his motel room. It’s dingy and drab, the once-white walls twinged a sickly yellowish tint from chain smoking guests. Ugly bedspread details different flowers that Toji couldn’t name, the same aged pattern clinging to the drapes that were pulled shut over the front window, never to be opened. It smells of heady sweat and open wounds, though maybe that’s just him. No, it definitely is him. He’s hyper aware of the grimy layer of filth that acts as a second layer of skin. It’s gritty and uncomfortable.

The bathroom cubicle is claustrophobic; if Toji were to stand in the center of the room, he could easily touch all four walls that boxed him in. He sits on the closed toilet seat lid, staring at his hands. They’re huge, intimidating. Trembling, spattered in blood that’s long since crusted into a dark concretion, cracking at the hinges of his fingers. His hands that took the lives of two innocent men just hours prior. Toji didn’t want to kill them, but they wouldn’t cooperate. Oh, how they shrieked and hollered for their lives as he dragged them into that alley. They just kept fucking screaming. 

“Fuck…” The man sighs grimly, letting his head dip forward to rest in the cups of his filthy palms. His bangs feel matted and crunchy with remnants of sweat. Disgusting self-pity blooms at the base of his hollow chest, and suddenly Toji has the urge to ram his skull into the drywall. Or dislocate his finger. Or do anything to punish himself for that feeling of defeatism. The nerve to possess such a shameful victim mentality, as if he deserved sympathy. He’s a killer; the best he deserves is a fucking electric chair.

Toji showers. A long, scalding shower that singes him to the bone. Water stained red cascades down the rippling wall of muscles that was his body and swirls down the rusty drain. These post-slaughter showers used to be blank canvases of his life. Ones where Toji’s brain would shut off and try to forget the atrocities committed by his hand. He would scrub his flesh raw, scrub scrub scrub mindlessly until he ached all over. But now, he only thinks of one thing.

You.

Maybe it’s some sick coping mechanism, turning to thoughts of you in times like these. In a pathetic form of self comfort, he reminisces. Your hands holding his face, your know-it-all smile, your way with words. God, your fucking way with words. 

“My sweet boy,” Toji whispers under his breath, touching himself. As if he could replicate the delicate way in which you spoke to him. His eyes shut, desperately clinging onto the mental image of you beneath him in his bed. Your arms outstretched, reaching for him like you want him. Like you love him. “My sweet…” Toji tries to fade into the warmth of the spray, imagining it to be your body heat encapsulating him instead. But the water is far too hot, it hurts; you wouldn’t hurt him like this. He tries so damn hard to disassociate into the pleasure, as if his hand would magically dissolve into yours. Yeah, right. His hand is too big to ever compete with yours. Too fucking rough and gritty and mean.

The flat of his palm finds the greasy tiles of the shower wall. Toji fucks himself with all the roughness he deserves, lower lip staked between two rows of teeth to cease its quivering. He’s going to cum. Your face appears in his psyche once more, but this time, it’s from the first time you visited him in the hospital all those months ago. He can see the picture so vividly, it scares him: you seated at his bedside, poking and prodding over his obliques, muttering a stream of concerned questions. But you were never upset or angry. No, despite the worries, you were still smiling. At him. 

Fuck, he’s really going to cum.

Toji grits his teeth, climaxing with a harsh shudder and a broken gasp of your name on his lips. Small jolts force him into a twitchy state, and he leans forward to rest his forehead against the tiles beside his hand. Semen paints the wall below, too far to the left for the shower spray to rinse it off. He doesn’t bother to clean it off. He’s too repulsed by himself to do much of anything. 

The plasticky sheets stick to his skin. Sleeping in just a pair of boxers was probably a stupid idea, bed mites were a real cause for concern, or so Shiu had told him. But it’s hot. He’s hot. And restless. And uncomfortable. He always had trouble falling asleep in foreign beds. Lidded eyes peek over to the alarm clock perched on the side table, its cherry digits splaying 2:47am. You were asleep. 

He reaches for his phone anyway, wracked with guilt all the while. The tension in his thighs still persisted, still succumbed to the aftershocks of his orgasm he fucked himself to with your face in his mind. He’s fucking gross. This is gross.

She’s sleeping, jackass. Don’t wake her up because you’re lonely.

Be a fucking man and lick your own wounds. That’s what his father would say.

He texts you anyway.

He presses the call button. It only gets through half a ring before the line cuts on and he hears a groggy “hey” filter through the receiver. How long has it been since he’s heard your voice? Not that long, only three days and yet it feels like it's been three lifetimes. And that’s truly the moment when Toji knows you’ve fucked him for life, because when did he start thinking such sappy shit like that?

“Hi,” he answers, melting back into the stiff mattress. His gaze wanders along the waterlogged ceiling, tracing the abstract damp stains that have settled in its popcorn surface. He thinks offhandedly that one of them vaguely resembles a rabbit. “Sorry for waking you.”

“You already apologized, silly. I told you it’s okay.” There’s a pause. “It’s nice to hear your voice.”

It’s nice to hear yours, too. “Go to sleep.” 

“Yeah, okay.” The sound of sheets stirring crackles, Toji assumes you’re tossing in bed. “You’re sleeping now, too, right?”

He paws at his stomach, the pads of his rough fingertips tracing the gutters of his abdominal plates before he sinks his blunt nails into his own flesh. “In a bit.”

“Soon. It’s late, Toji.” You order him to bed like a mother would her child.

He nods as if you could see the gesture. “Soon, then.”

You bid him a good night, turning once more into bed before settling back into the depths of the slumber Toji had interrupted. He clasps his cell between his ear and shoulder, basking in your gentle breaths. It’s the same sounds you made the night you fucked him. He slept upon your chest, head over your heart, listening to its beats. You drooled on his pillow, he gave a quiet scoff at the memory. Are you drooling now?

Toji never sleeps.

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tags . • @4imhry @sugurubabe @mastermasterlist1p1 @mikisspeak @fluttershyfangs @iluv-ace @xstom @bratbby333 @mizzfizz @sserafin @wo-ming-bai @maexc @r0semultiverse @r0ckst4rjk @aesukuni @taelattecookie @purple-obsidian @hqtoge @khaothick @saintkaylaa @ya9amicide @crayzyaarna @saiki-enthusiast @haesify @nyamocka @sixxze @lifesucksweswallow @darkstarlight82 @megumisdivinedogs @celestialol @yunho-leeknow @ghostfacefricker6969 @aizawa19 @lupicalbestwolf @nymphsdomain @makuzume

[madaqueue]

gn!reader - 18+ MDNI (jjk spoilers !!!! also just....angst. lots of angst)

you never hated the rain. satoru made sure of that.

“it’s a way to prove things are alive!” he’d beam, gaze fixed on the window as it slowly collected droplets, tracing their path down the glass. he smiled when they’d meet, rivulets diving down and onto the concrete below to join one another. as if they, too, were alive.

maybe that’s why you’d find him standing outside during storms, hair matted and clothes drenched. soaked in proof.

it’s almost fitting that it’s raining today.

almost.

the rain sounds hollow as it litters the ground. the dirt. the empty casket. for someone so loud, who filled every space with his soul and energy and mind, you would have expected more. but then again, not even the sun exploding and burning and wiping everything away until the only noise echoing through the universe is a chant of his name would be enough to capture him. to honor him.

instead, today, there’s no sound anywhere.

you want to scream, to pull out the grass and slam your fists onto the wood just to make something happen.

but it won’t make him come back.

it won’t make his arms wrap around you, pulling you into his warmth. it won’t make his lips press kisses over every inch of your skin like a promise. it won’t make those bright blue eyes linger a moment too long on yours. not ever again.

and then you’re on your knees. you’re screaming and your chest hurts and the rain tastes saltier than you remember and you feel like you’re drowning in it.

maybe then you’ll at least get to see him again.

“hey, it’s okay,” a warm voice pulls you back to the surface for a moment. but the hand rubbing your back is too small. it’s not him. “let it out,” shoko hums behind you, holding an umbrella above your shaking form.

you feel weak, like a strong enough gust of wind could blow you over. you wish it would. you wish it would throw you into the hole in the ground and cover you in wet soil and mud. even dirty, satoru would love you.

you wonder if he’d find this pathetic. he was never one for dramatic displays, especially for his sake. but then again, he never looked down on you for how violently the waves of your emotions seemed to throw you around, crashing into rocks and tumbling underwater. no, he would just rub your back and kiss your tears away. “it’s okay,” he’d whisper, “i’m here.”

but now he’s not here.

and he’ll never be here again.

and you can’t bring him back and you can’t hear his voice or his laugh or the soft little breaths as he fell asleep in your arms and you can’t say “i love you” ever again. because you won’t. you won’t ever feel what you felt for him again.

your heart is buried in the ground and no amount of digging will bring it back.

but then, more arms wrap around you. they still aren’t satoru’s, but they’re warm. in spite of the rain.

“we miss him, too,” yuji whispers. the others don’t say anything - they don’t have to, they can’t. what more is there to say?

but then, as they hug you, and you hug them, the grief gets a little lighter, just for a moment. because you’re all carrying it together. his students, his future, will hold him in their memories and bring him with them.

your head falls back, and raindrops land on your cheeks. the same places satoru’s lips used to be.

the sky matches his eyes.

maybe you can find him in the rain.

a/n: sorry :/

[taeghi]

in the flesh (kind of)

ghost hunter y/n gets called to exorcist a ghost out of a home, she expects the usual routine, but is instead met with heeseung—a mischievous ghost who’s way too charming, way too flirty, and definitely not ready to leave... not until he gets the thing he most desires.

PAIRING: psychic y/n x ghost heeseung

GENRE: smut!! i guess a bit of horror? lots of oral, spitting, biting, spanking, unprotected sex (plsplspls wear a condom), face sitting lmao, a bit of cum eating if you will

WC: 6.8k happy halloween 🎃 MDNI

the house in front of you looked as ordinary as ever. 

it didn’t look like one of those houses in scary movies. there was no sign of paranormal activity from the outside. 

you had been called to this house to investigate an alleged haunting here. they client said it was urgent too, and that you needed to get the spirit out quickly. 

you’re a psychic and you happen to be a ghost investigator, too. 

you pull out the client’s report and read through it; 

it started small, but it was always… wrong. i’d have female friends over, and they’d say they felt watched. they’d joke about it at first, until the jokes stopped. they’d leave my place unsettled, refusing to come back.

it escalated. i heard whispers in the night, a low, raspy voice calling my name. some of my friends even said they felt something cold graze their skin, like fingertips trailing along their arms and neck. it happens when they’re alone, especially in the bathroom mirror. they swear they see a face behind them, something shadowy with hollow eyes, just watching.

last week, a friend bolted out of the house, screaming that something had grabbed her arm, hard enough to leave a bruise. she won’t speak to me anymore. this thing – it doesn’t just haunt; it targets. i don’t know why it hates them, but it’s getting bolder. please… i need it gone before it decides that’s not enough.

you sigh as you finish re-reading it. the rest of your investigative team were called to a larger house with a previous client, leaving you alone with this emergency client. all alone as a woman with a spirit who allegedly targets women. 

you roll your eyes, just your luck.

you start your way up the ordinary pathway to the ordinary house, and find the spare key to the house under the mat, where the client said it would be. you slip the key into the lock and push the door open; it creaks as it widens. 

from your point on the outdoor step, you look into the house. the inside is seemingly as normal as the outside. the grand foyer in front of you is made with dark wood and you can see the sunlight peering in through the glass stained windows. 

you step inside, closing the heavy front door behind you, and a deep silence settles around you. the air feels dense, pressing close to your skin, but there’s no immediate trace of energy. you begin your usual inspection, running your fingers along the dark wood walls, pausing every so often to feel for any lingering presence. your fingertips drag across the furniture in the living room, the marble countertops in the kitchen. your senses are on high alert, but… nothing. not a single trace of energy. 

you check off the first floor on your checklist and slide it back into your bag. the basement and second floor are still left. the client mentioned there may be an attic, but he’s never been up there and doesn’t know how to get there. 

you make your way to the spiral staircase in the foyer, placing a hand on the ornate banister. instantly, a faint, buzzing vibration hums beneath your palm. it’s subtle, barely there, but unmistakable. your pulse quickens, and you grip the banister tighter as you ascend, focusing on the sudden, faint energy. 

maybe there is paranormal activity here. 

as you reach the top of the staircase, the air seems colder, biting at your skin, and it’s so silent you can hear the ringing in your ears. the hallway stretches before you, dimly lit from the afternoon sunshine, with shadows pooling in every corner. 

you turn down the hallway and find the bathroom from the client’s report, its door slightly ajar. the second you step inside, a wave of heavy energy washes over you, prickling your skin. you can feel something in the bathroom, the remnants of something. 

your fingertips graze over the sink countertop, trying to fully grasp the energy that is lurking out of sight, watching you. 

you stare into the mirror, half expecting to see someone else’s reflection staring back, but there’s only you—your eyes wide, the unease settling like lead in your stomach.

you take a step back, trying to shake the feeling, when a loud creak pierces the silence, echoing down the hall. you jump, heart pounding, and whip around to see a door at the end of the hallway slowly inching open, as if beckoning you.

you know it’s in there. 

your heartbeat thunders as you approach. halfway down the hall, a framed portrait catches your eye: a family, frozen in time, but the mother’s eyes… they look wrong. her painted gaze feels too aware, following you as you move. you look away, only to hear a faint, raspy whisper echo down the hall, saying your name. the sound slithers through the silence, almost mocking, and you spin around, 

but there’s no one there.

you almost laugh at yourself– you’ve been in worse situations than this, yet a little creak and, probably the wind, scare you. so, you continue your way to the creaked open door. 

just as you reach the open door, a sudden, sharp cold rushes past you, chilling you to the bone. your skin prickles, and you swear you feel fingers graze your shoulder. the air fills with the faint scent of something metallic, like rust or old blood. your throat tightens, but you push into the room, only to find it empty – just an old bedroom, frozen in time.

then, a loud slam rattles the door behind you, sealing you inside.

you immediately start to dig into your bag for sage and a lighter, pulling it out and trying to light it. from the corner of the room, you hear a soft, almost playful chuckle. your breath catches, the hair on the back of your neck stands up as you realize… you’re not alone.

you spin around, eyes darting to the shadowed corner where the chuckle came from, and freeze. there, half-hidden in the darkness, stands a man. his silhouette is tall and imposing, dressed in old-fashioned clothing—a loose white blouse with the top few buttons undone, revealing a sliver of skin beneath, and black pants that hang loosely around his frame. the shadows surround his face, but you can feel his gaze locked onto you.

your fingers fumble with the lighter, hands trembling as you try to spark a flame against the bundle of sage. it clicks over and over, each failed attempt magnifying the icy dread pooling in your stomach. your throat tightens, and you can barely swallow.

you keep trying to spark a flame when a deep voice cuts through the silence. “you know that won’t work, so don’t even bother with it.” his tone is smooth, calm, and almost amused.

before you can react, the sage flies out of your hand as if it’s been ripped away, slamming against the nearest wall before falling to the floor. you jolt, heart pounding, and look back to the corner—but he’s gone. the space where he stood is empty.

“over here.” the voice comes from right behind you, and you spin around, breath catching in your throat. he’s standing inches away now, close enough that you can make out every detail of his face. despite the fear tightening in your chest, you can’t help but notice he’s… handsome. dark, intense eyes watching you closely, his expression unreadable, but somehow captivating. every instinct tells you to run, but his gaze holds you frozen in place.

the man’s gaze sharpens as he studies you, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “so you really can see me, huh?”

you nod, unsure of what else to do, your throat dry.

“hm,” he hums, tilting his head as he takes you in, intrigued. “i’ve never met someone like you. i mean, i’ve sensed people who can feel my energy before, but never anyone who can actually see me.”

“right,” you stammer, forcing the word out past the lump of nerves in your throat.

his smirk widens, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “your name is y/n, right? after your great-grandmother?”

you feel a flicker of shock but work hard to keep your face neutral. stay calm, you tell yourself, steadying your voice as you say, “yes. what’s your name?”

the man starts to wander around the room, his fingers trailing over the dusty, ancient bookshelf, his expression thoughtful. suddenly, like a whisper in your mind, a name appears: heeseung.

“heeseung?” you murmur, testing it out loud.

he stops, looking over his shoulder with that same smirk, eyes gleaming. “wow, your powers really are a talent, y/n.”

“t-thank you,” you stammer, your voice barely steady.

heeseung stands up, moving to the window and glancing outside as the last light fades, leaving the sky dark and heavy. “let me guess,” he says, sounding amused, “the man of the house called you to exterminate me?”

you nod, trying to keep your composure. “yes, heeseung, exactly.”

he chuckles, turning to lean against the window with an easy, almost playful smirk. “he’s so pathetic. i was just trying to have a little fun.”

your mind flashes back to the client’s report. “you targeted women? left a bruise on one of them,” you remind him cautiously.

heeseung laughs, loud and sharp, his eyes glinting with amusement. “please, y/n, i didn’t leave a bruise on her… at least, not the kind of bruise i enjoy leaving.” he pushes off the window, closing the distance between you in a few strides. “i just like scaring people. and women, well, they’re the easiest to frighten.”

he stops right in front of you, his gaze boring into yours, making it hard to breathe. “can you feel me, y/n? if i touch you?”

you shrug, trying to ignore the way your heart pounds. “depends on how strong the energy is.”

heeseung quirks an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “may i try?” you hesitate, the thought of a ghost’s touch sending a shiver down your spine. heeseung senses your distaste, “i’ll be gentle, i promise.” 

before you can think better of it, you nod. “yes.”

heeseung’s smirk softens, and he reaches out, placing his index finger gently on your shoulder. the touch sends an electric jolt through you—it feels as real as any human’s, but you can feel your skin vibrating and humming under his touch. he drags his finger down slowly, tracing over your shoulder and down your side with a feather-light pressure that makes your skin ignite. his touch doesn’t stop until it rests at your waist, and he finally pulls away, leaving your skin tingling in its absence.

you’ve never felt anything like it before. 

“that felt so good,” he says, his voice laced with surprise. it’s as if he can’t believe the sensation, and for a moment, the amusement fades. “i haven’t felt such energy since i’ve been dead.” he examines his finger closely, as if he’s trying to grasp the lingering warmth it held. you wonder if it still hums for him like your skin does for you.

“how long have you been dead for, heeseung?” you blurt out, unable to stop the question before it slips past your lips. as you take in his clothes, you can’t help but think it must have been a while since he last walked among the living.

without opening his mouth, his eyes drift from the tip of his finger back to you, and you hear his voice echo in your mind: i don’t remember. you nod in understanding. 

you swallow hard before speaking again, the weight of the moment settling over you. “heeseung, you need to leave this place.”

he smirks and starts to pace around the room, giving you a breath of space that you didn’t realize you needed. “i knew that was coming,” he replies, the teasing lilt in his tone returning. 

“why do you want to stay here?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

heeseung laughs, the sound rich and dark, and looks at you from across the room. “because the man of the house brings so many women over—so many beautiful ones. and he fucks all of them!” in an instant, he’s right in front of you again, his hands gripping your shoulders. the humming and vibrations return, electrifying your skin as he leans closer, intensity radiating from him. “do you know how long it’s been since I’ve felt the touch of a beautiful woman?”

it takes you a second to process his words, your heart racing as you feel the vibrations from his touch. he drops them back to his sides, the absence of his touch leaving you feeling strangely cold. “so long, y/n,” he sighs, a deep, heavy sound that echoes with despair. “at least i can watch the man of the house get some.” 

he moves away, flopping sideways onto the old bed, his feet still planted on the floor. he looks almost wistful, staring up at the ceiling as if searching for something lost. the room feels heavier now that you know what heeseung’s spirit seeks. 

your curiosity can’t stop you from asking, “i mean, can’t you have sex with like, other ghosts?” 

heeseung sits up on his elbows, looking at you like you’re an idiot, “it’s not the same, y/n. there’s no desire! no warmth!” 

“i see, but you can’t stay here, heeseung– you need to move o–.” 

“i’m not leaving!” his voice yells suddenly, you hear all the doors in the house start to rattle. your heartbeat picks up and you take steps back from the bed where the ghost layed. “i’m staying here!” 

you stop walking when your back hits the wall behind you, causing a small squeal to escape your throat. you glance back to the bed to see heeseung gone, the doors rattling stopped. you look around the room and you can’t see him anywhere. 

just great. you think to yourself, now the ghost you needed to remove is gone. 

“what’s just great?” a voice speaks in your right ear, causing you to squeak and jump to your left. you hear heeseung’s laughter fill your ears as you realize it was him. “see, i told you. it’s so easy to scare women.” 

you huff as you look at the ghost, “it’s’ not funny heeseung, you’re not welcomed here.” 

heeseung signs and rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wall you were previously up against. “i know, i know. but i have a problem, y/n, and i can’t leave until i get it fixed.” 

you think about his problem and how you could get him to leave so your client would be happy. 

have sex with him. 

the intrusive thought fills your mind, and you realize that it wasn’t your thought, but heeseung’s. you glance up at him with a scowl on your face– the opposite as the smirk on his own. 

“please y/n!” heeseung whines, stepping away from the wall and walking up to you, “if you have sex with me then i’ll leave here, and the man of the house can be happy and you’ll get paid.” 

you open your mouth to disagree but heeseung starts speaking again, not wanting to hear it, “please y/n, just think about it.” he walks even closer, closer than ever, and places his hands on your hips. his thumb staying still on the exposed skin of your lower abdomen from where your shirt had ridden up. the vibrations from his touch course through you again. “just a simple touch makes it feel this good for you, imagine how’d my touch feel as i taste your pussy– as my cock stretches you out– i know you haven't been touched in a while, y/n. your poor pussy,” heeseung tuts and you can’t argue with him, it had been awhile. but to sleep with a ghost? you weren’t so sure about it. his touch does feel so good, so electrifying, you do wonder how’d it feel on other parts of your body. 

have sex with him. have sex with him. have sex with him. have sex with him. have sex with him. 

“okay! fine!” you consent loudly, “enough!” his voice echoes through your head over and over again.

“perfect.” 

then, heeseung is pushing back against the wall, your body trapped in between his and the wall. his hands fly to your body, wanting to feel all of you all at once– the touch was electrifying. his lips pressed into yours, roughly. they worked against yours quickly, his tongue licking your bottom lip, demanding for entrance. when you open your mouth to let him in, his tongue isn't shy from exploring your mouth. your tongues fight together as your lips are rough against each other. heeseung gives you no room to breathe, his lips are just attacking yours, sending vibrations all around your body. 

heeseung pulls away, his hand staying on your jaw as he looks down at you. your eyes are already dazed, your lips are swollen and wet and your chest is heaving roughly. he smirks at your lack of composure, his thumb grazes your bottom lip gently. 

“wanna see what else my mouth can do?” heeseung asks with a teasing tone. you quickly nod in response, wanting and needing more from him, more than you ever expected. heeseung presses a rough kiss onto your lips again before he kneels down on the floor, unbuttoning your pants and pulling them down alongside your panties. he helps you step out of the clothing before he’s spreading your legs apart and staring right at your exposed pussy. 

“fuck your pussy looks so fucking good,” heeseung literally moans out, staring at your pussy lips that are starting to leak with your juices. 

before you could respond, heeseung dove in between your legs with you still standing against the wall. he licls you completely from the front of the back. he started sucking on your sensitive clit, swirling his tongue around your entire pussy. 

your whines quickly filled the empty house. you looked down between your legs where heeseung was knelt on the floor, his eyes staring at your face as he flicked his tongue over your clit which you could only describe as heavenly. the way he was staring at you so intently made your pussy wetter and wetter. 

heeseung’s fingers found the entrance of your drenched pussy, teasing it as his lips continued to suck on your clit. he sunk two fingers in at once, moving them in and out as he ate you out. 

“h-holy shit, heeseung,” you moaned loudly, arching your back off of the wall behind you. heeseung kept licking your now swollen clit, fingering your pussy faster and faster. the sounds coming from between your legs was so sinful. 

heeseung curls his fingers inside you, searching for your g-spot to touch. his fingers were long, being able t o reach deeper inside you than even your fingers had. your pussy walls were starting to tighten around his fingers as he found the right spot that had your knees buckling on either side of his head. 

“does that feel good, y/n? do you like having my fingers inside your desperate pussy and my tongue fucking your clit? is this what you’ve wanted for so long?” heeseung growls into your pussy, his fingers fucking harder against your g spot over nad over again. 

you gasp for air was the pleasure from his touch began to course everywhere through your body. the vibrations and humming on your skin where he was touching made it hard to breathe. you could quickly feel a knot forming in your lower stomach, quicker than you’ve ever experienced. 

“heeseung!” you screamed and suddenly you were cumming all over his fingers and face. your juices dripping all over him. you had never released this quickly or hard before, and you think it had something to do with his vibrating touch that courses through your entire being at every single touch he gave you. 

your body was shaking and spasming as the high rushes through you. his face was still buried between your legs until you stopped. he slowly pulled away, you can see his entire lower half was drenched. 

before you had even caught your breath properly, heeseung was pulling you to the bed and pushing you down on the ground before it. he sat down on it in front of you, undoing his own pants as he bit his lip and looked down at your already fucked out figure. your knees felt relief as they kneeled on the ground before you. your entire body still felt unstable as heeseung’s cock popped into sight in front of you. it was hard and veiny and it looked like it was about to explode without a singular touch from you. his size was definitely the biggest you had ever seen. 

“suck on my cock, y/n, be a good girl for me,” heeseung grinned down at you. 

you didn’t hesitate to lean down and lick a long stripe from his swollen balls to the tip of cock. you licked the base of it. heeseung groaned in pleasure and watched your actions with intense focus, like he wanted to remember every single detail of his moment. 

his cock was throbbing with the need of pleasure in your mouth. you felt yourself drool at the idea of how hot and heavy it would feel inside of your mouth. you wanted to please him so much. 

you continued licking his cock with your tongue, and you grabbed a hold of his balls with one of your hands. you squeezed and massaged his hard balls softly as you licked to the sensitive tip again. you took in the drops of pre-cum that were pooling and threatening to spill onto the floor. 

then, you took him completely into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down. 

heeseung moaned loudly and smiled to himself in relief as his head fell back on his shoulders. one of his hands found its place on your hair– making your scalp erupt with vibrations that encouraged you to suck him faster. 

your tongue swirled around his cock while you bobbed up and down. you could feel him sliding deeper and deeper into your throat. 

“fuck you’re such a good girl,” heeseung moaned before he started to help you move yoru head up and down by holding the grip of your hair tighter. you hollow your cheeks more and kept sucking to give him the pleasure that he had given you. 

your tongue swirled around heeseung’s cock as you bobbed around him. your hands gripped on his balls tighter and massaged them. his moans and grunts picked up pace quickly. you could feel his cock start to twitch in your mouth. the thought of him cumming turned you on so much, you wanted to see him squirm and moan your name as his cum shot out of his sensitive tip. 

“f-fuck, ok ok,” heeseung says, pulling you off of his cock. you whine out, upset that he didn’t cum in your mouth. 

he only laughs, “i wanna finish inside of you, y/n, just wait.” 

you bite your lip at the thought of his cum filling you up, you wanted it just as bad as you wanted it in your mouth. heeseung pulls you up from your knees, you’re still wearing your tshirt, and makes you sit on the bed with him. 

“take my shirt off of me,” heeseung demands. you shakily reach out your hands and unbutton each small button on his loose fitting shirt, you see him shiver slightly as your fingers graze along his skin as you undo every button until it’s wide open and showing his chest. it’s well defined and pale and cold like the rest of him. “your touch feels as good on me as mine does on you.” heeseung explains as he reads your mind. 

heeseung shrugs his shirt off his shoulders and drops it on the ground, leaving him completely naked in front of you. he looks beautiful. 

“you look beautiful too, y/n.” heeseung says, and it doesn’t surprise you anymore that he can read your thoughts. he reaches out and puts his thumb against your lips, wanting access inside your mouth. you open and allow his thumb inside. you suck on it, wishing you could do more. “fuck, i need to taste you again.” heeseung grunts and pulls his hand away as he lays down on his back. “c’mere, sit on my face, baby.” the nickname causes a stir in you, and you hurriedly do as he says. 

you place both of your knees on either side of his head, looking down in between your thighs you see his eyes, hungry and full of lust as he switches from looking at your pussy to your face. 

“it’s okay, just sit.” he encourages you, sensing your brief hesitation. he yanked you down harder against his mouth, making you fully sit against him. your body fully relaxes as you feel his tongue start to dart around your pussy again, already familiar. 

“oh god! oh fuck!” you cry out, your hands grip the headboard, needing support as your upper body felt weak from pleasure. 

heeseung went from moving his entire mouth back and forth, to left to right against you. he thrusts his tongue deep inside of you, wanting to taste every inch of your hole. then he went into sucking your clit into his mouth like his life depended on it. he was doing everything he could to please you, and you couldn’t even process it all from the pleasure consuming your entire body. 

“c’mon,” heeseung coaxes from underneath you, out of breath, “aren’t you a little slut, y/n? hm? gonna ride my face, baby? grab my hair– i like it.” he grabs your wrists from the headboard and guides your hands to his hair. 

you nodded, your hands curling in his hair, holding onto him. you relax back onto his mouth, his tongue going back to licking and sucking your clit. you instantly pull at his hair, needing something to hold onto as he holds you still and tongue fucks you. 

heeseung’s hands either gripped the flesh of your thighs, holding you in place on his face, or they alternated onto your ass, where he’d massage the flesh after he spanks it. he loves the cries you made everytime his hand made contact with your ass. he loved the way you were so into pain, just like he was. 

you were turning into a whining mess above him, and he loved it. he loved it so much more than he should’ve. 

“you like it when i eat your pussy, right baby?” 

you can only nod in response, the pleasure too overwhelming for you. all you can think about is his tongue circulating your pussy, making sure to touch every single spot. you start to swivel your hips against his face, without even thinking about your actions, just thinking about how fucking close you were to cumming. you couldn’t handle it, his touch that would send vibrations throughout your body, his moans into your skin, the way he was so intently looking at you. the pleasure was building so quickly you needed to do something. 

“fuck you’re so hot,”  heeseung mumbles into your pussy, “look at me, y/n– look how much your pussy has soaked me.” you manage to look down further, his nose, cheeks, chin and even his neck are glistening in the moonlight. it only makes you cry out, the sight turning you on more. you’ve never been so desperate to cum before. 

“are you gonna cum, baby? gonna come all over my face?” heeseung questions you, sensing how close you were, reading your mind and every single movement you made so easily, “please, i want you to so bad. i need it.” 

“f-fuck! yes! heeseung yes!” you cry, pulling on his hair harder, making him smack your ass harder. you needed something to hold onto as the huge rush of pleasure started to take over your body before you could realize it. 

he pulls  your body tight and snug against himself as your orgasm hits. a loud scream of his name escapes your lips as your body spasms above the ghost. his tongue not stopping at licking and sucking your entire pussy throughout it all. 

suddenly you felt a rush of wetness leave your body, your vision going blurry, your body felt like it was on fire. 

“oh fuck, yes!” you hear heeseung mumble, his head moving in a frenzy against your pussy. your cries don’t stop until the final, long wave of pleasure ends. 

your left practically hunched over on top of him, your body red and sweating with your chest heaving as you catch your breath. you don’t even feel heeseung gently slide out from underneath you and gently lay you do. 

“that was so hot, y/n,” heeseung moans, “i didn’t expect you to squirt.” 

the word comes out of your mouth and shocks you, you hadn’t thought you had done that. your eyes fully adjust to the room again and you see that heeseung’s entire chest and face are drenched in what could literally only be your juices. 

your hand covers your mouth in shock and almost embarrassment, oh my god, what have i done? 

heeseung suddenly laughs and reaches over to pull your hand away, “don’t worry, it was so fucking hot, i wanna make you do it over and over again.” 

“oh god, maybe not right now, i don’t think i could handle it.” 

heeseung only laughs at you, a full chest laugh before he leans down and meshes his lips against yours. you moan at the taste of your juices covering his lips and mouth. his hand is gently resting on your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek as you make out. both of you needed a break from the pleasure, but still wanted to touch one another. your touch was addicting to him as his was to you. neither of you could pull apart for too long, needing the other’s touch again. 

“you gonna let me feel your pussy wrapped around my cock?” heeseung asks you, his voice in a whisper. 

“please,” you beg in a whimper. 

heeseung shuffles so he’s hovering over top of you, his hand roaming your body. he lifts up your shirt so it pools around your arms and neck, revealing your breasts. he starts to grind his hard length against your pussy, making you cry out. his fingers pinch your erect nipples. your back arches into his touch, wanting more. 

“you’re so sexy, oh my god,” heeseung growls, bending down to take your rosy nipple into his mouth. his tongue teases and suckles, alternating between gentle laps and firm tugs that have you writhing against him. 

heeseung suddenly spins you around, pressing your front down against the mattress. he nips at your neck, biting and sucking on it from behind. he leaves a trail of wet kisses, making you shiver. 

heeseung positions himself at your entrance, the broad head of his cock nudging your slick folds, “fuck your pussy’s drenched, can’t wait to feel it around my cock.” 

heeseung slides just the tip inside, so slowly, making you whimper, “please, heeseung, i need your cock inside me.”  a sudden slap against your already red and irritated ass makes you jolt and squeeze around his cock. 

“tell me how you want my cock.” 

“i want it so bad! i need it heeseung! please fuck me, please.” you couldn’t recognize your voice, the way it sounded so desperate and needy for him and only him. 

with a growl, he plunges deep inside of you, filling you in one swift stroke. you cry out as he stretches you, accommodating his large cock. “so tight, so fucking perfect.” he grunts, his voice strained as he holds himself still, letting you adjust to his size. 

“move, please,” you plead, pushing back against him, wanting more.

he obliges, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you, setting a relentless pace. the slap of flesh meeting flesh fills the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts. he reaches around, finding your clit, and begins to rub firm circles as he pounds into you. 

he pulls back, letting the tip remain inside your warmth and spits down, landing where your bodies connect. you moan out at the degrading action, your eyes rolling back into your head as you let him continue fucking you. he’s practically using your body to get off, you’re so weak and spent and needy, all you can do is lay there. 

everything is so wet and warm, your bodies tingling from each other’s touch. the pillow your face is resting on is soaked in your drool and sweat. 

“fuck,” you moan, long and drawn out, the whole bed moving with every single thrust he makes. his free hand that's not on your clit spanks your ass again and again, his imprint clear and profound. pleasure rushes through you, and you can feel the pleasure taking over you fully again. “c-close,” you whimper out, quietly as your throat is strained from your moaning and crying. 

heeseung’s hand leaves your clit and pulls both of your arms around your body so they are interlocked on your lower back, he grips onto your arms and uses them as leverage as he begins a brutal pace of fucking into your pussy. the pace knocks all the wind out of your chest, your moans breaking and splitting. his hips smack into your ass, the sound filling the room. 

“fuck you’re taking me so well,” heeseung grunts out, “like a perfect slut.” 

you can’t even respond to him, you’re too focused on feeling everything. it all blurs together and she still needs more of it and him. 

“fuck i’m gonna cum!” you whine out, your words muffled into the pillow, your head falling to the side so you can look at him. 

“wait, baby– i’m almost there.” heeseung says. he can feel you struggling to hold back your third orgasm. your warm walls are convulsing around him, milking him, begging him to cum deep inside of you. he groans at the thought of his white cum dripping out of your soaked and swollen pussy. 

“please heeseung!” you cry out, “can’t!” 

heeseung lets go of your interlocked arms, they fall limp to your side. he grips your hips and starts fucking into you from another angle, “fuck okay okay! cum for me baby, let go!” his voice is strained as he reaches his own orgasm at the same time you reach yours. 

your walls clench around his throbbing shaft as it empties his remnants inside of you. you can hear him swearing and his hips start to stutter. both of you can feel his cum mixing with your juices. 

your shallow breaths fill the room as you try to calm down from the strong and final orgasm you have. the air in the room is thick around your two tired bodies. you can feel heeseung start to pull out of you so slowly and gently, but you still wince from the sensitivity. 

“look, y/n, watch.” heeseung says to you, his hands help you guide you onto your back, your legs spread open still so you can see his white cum leaking out of you. “fuck,” 

your moan leaves your mouth as you watch the sight in between your legs. his saliva, your juices and his cum all mixed around on your pussy and inner thighs. 

heeseung can’t help himself but grab his softening cock and swipe it along your used pussy lips. the tip of it swiping across your clit has you crying out and gripping the sheet underneath you, but your eyes don’t leave his movements. 

he gathers his fallen cum off your pussy and onto his cock and he looks at you, his eyes still lustful as ever, “taste it.” 

heeseung meets you in the middle as you use the rest of your weak energy to sit up and open your mouth, letting heeseung shove his cock back into your mouth, this time with his cum on it. you moan around him at the taste of the salty substance on your tongue. you softly sucked on his cock, wanting as much as his cum as you could get. heeseung hissed above you from sensitivity, but nonetheless let you suck his cock again. 

he just couldn’t get enough of you. 

when he finally gets himself to pull out of your mouth, heeseung helps you wash up, his hands surprisingly gentle and warm for a ghost, guiding you through each motion until you’re finally redressed correctly. he pulls back the covers and settles you into the bed, a room that’s neither his nor yours, but feels oddly safe with him beside you. he stretches out next to you.

"your psychic powers are so interesting, y/n," he says softly, eyes tracing your face. you manage a tired smile, whispering back, "i know."

heeseung’s hand brushes against your cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. for a moment, you can feel his thumb lingering by your jaw, and your gaze locks onto his. but his smile fades, and something shifts in his expression, like a shadow crossing over his face.

"i guess i have to leave now," he says, voice low and final. "our deal is complete."

his words hit you like a wave, bringing you back to reality, grounding you in the truth you’d momentarily forgotten. heeseung is a ghost. you’re here to finish a job—to exorcize him from this house, to set him free. but as the realization sinks in, so does a strange, aching feeling in your chest, something heavy and unfamiliar. you’ve never felt this way before, not about a spirit, not about anyone.

you reach out and grab his arm, as if holding onto him could somehow stop him from slipping away. "don't go," you whisper, desperation lacing every word.

heeseung chuckles softly, shaking his head. "i have to, y/n. it was our deal. besides," he nods toward the hallway, "you have to go, too. the man of the house will be back soon."

reluctantly, you let your hand fall to your side, a hollow ache spreading in your chest as you watch him. "where will you go, heeseung?"

he shrugs, a ghostly smile crossing his lips. "everywhere."

you turn your face away, feeling the weight of everything you can't say pressing against you. you'll never see him again, never feel the electric hum his touch sends across your skin. the realization hits you hard—you have feelings for a ghost, and it’s breaking you apart. it’s not natural. 

heeseung reaches out, his cool hand cupping your jaw and gently turning you to face him. "you have a long life ahead of you, y/n," he says, voice low and soft. "don't get stuck in this part." you nod through the tears that fill your eyes, knowing he's right, but it doesn't make the goodbye any easier. 

"i’ll see you on the other side, y/n. i won’t forget you."

“i won’t forget you either, heeseung.”

heeseung's gaze softens, and he leans in, pressing a final kiss to your lips, a gentle brush. your eyes close, savoring the feeling. but when you open them again, you’re alone in the bed. 

you sit up slowly, glancing around the room. there's an emptiness now, a quietness that tells you heeseung is really gone. there’s no lingering energy, no faint presence lurking in the shadows. it’s just an ordinary house again.

you leave the bedroom and make your way to the front door, pulling out your checklist and marking off the final task. you scribble a quick report (leaving out the part where the spirit fucked your brains out). with a sigh, you click your pen closed and tuck everything back into your bag.

as you step outside, the cool evening air hits your face. you pause on the front step, glancing back at the house one last time. it looks as plain as you thought it did when you first arrived, but now it holds memories you know you'll carry with you for a long time.

taking a deep breath, you turn and start down the street, the soft glow of a lone streetlight casting long shadows as your shoes scuff against the scattered orange and yellow autumn leaves on the pavement.

heeseung is your only thought.

you wonder when you’ll see him again; unaware of his spirit watching you from the front step of the house you’d just left, a sick evil smile on his face as he turns and walks back into the house. 

@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

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@llvrhee

[br0kenangel]

BROKEN SOULS: you both hate each other. you both are broken. and you both lost your children. that's why you keep him. because he's the only one left.

TW: dark reader, broken Aegon, non con, reader is the rightful heir, minors DNI.

The dimly lit chamber feels colder today. The smell of damp stone, sweat, and despair fills the air as you walk in, tray in hand. Aegon kneels in the center of the his body slumped forward, chained to the floor like a dog. The clink of his collar as he shifts sends a thrill through you. He's nothing now-nothing but yours.

You set the tray down before him, watching as he avoids your gaze, staring blankly at the floor. His silver hair is matted, his once-proud body thin, broken. Every inch of him screams defeat. The man who had once taken everything from you-your throne, your children, your life- was now little more than a shadow, crawling at your feet.

Your lips curl into a twisted smile.

"Look at you," you murmur, kneeling in front of him, tilting his face up with your fingers. His violet eyes are hollow, vacant, but you see the flicker of recognition there. That old fear. That pathetic dependency. He doesn't hate you as much as he should, and that makes your stomach churn with something like satisfaction.

"You're going to eat" you say softly, but there's a command in your voice. "Open your mouth."

He does, like a trained dog, his lips parting obediently as you press a small piece of bread to them. He chews slowly, his eyes glazed over with tears he's too broken to shed. Your fingers linger on his lips, tracing the cracked, dry skin as he swallows.

"You've been so good lately," you coo, feeding him another bite, watching as he swallows it down like the obedient little creature he's become. "Such a good boy for me."

His breath hitches at the words, something like a sob bubbling in his throat, but it's muted-buried beneath layers of misery and exhaustion. You feed him another bite, and another, until the bread is gone. You wipe a tear from his cheek with the pad of your thumb, smirking as his body trembles under your touch.

"They are gone, Aegon," you whisper, leaning in close, your breath warm against his ear. "My children. Your children. Everyone is gone."

His face contorts in pain, eyes squeezing shut as fresh tears spill down his cheeks. You cup his face, forcing him to look at you, delighting in the way he shudders under your grip. "But we don't need them anymore, do we? No... we'll make something better. Something new."

His lips tremble, and his voice comes out as a broken whisper. "Please... no.."

Your smile grows wider, darker. You can feel the madness swirling inside you, an insatiable hunger that nothing can soothe except the thought of what's to come. "Yes, Aegon. We can. We will. We'll make new children. New little silver-haired babes, just like us."

His body stiffens, his eyes wide with horror, and you feel a sick, twisted thrill at the sight. "No." he breathes, his voice barely audible, a desperate plea. But it's too late for that. Far too late.

You push him down, the chain around his neck rattling as his back hits the cold, hard stone beneath him. His breath comes in ragged gasps as you climb on top of him, your hands already working to untie the gown at your neck. He's shaking now, tears streaming down his face, his body caught between fear, disgust, and that pitiful attachment he can't shake.

"Don't cry" you murmur, your voice soft but dripping with cruelty as you kiss the tears from his cheeks. "We're going to make something beautiful together, Aegon. We'll replace them. We'l make new children, and they'll be perfect. They'll be ours."

He shakes his head, his sobs growing louder as you undress yourself, letting the gown fall away from your body. "Please. don't..." he chokes out, his voice breaking.

But you don't listen. You never listen. You smile down at him, your fingers trailing over his trembling body as you begin to undress him, slowly, methodically, savoring every tear, every sob, every tremor of fear that runs through him.

"We don't need anyone else," you whisper, your lips brushing against his ear as you strip him bare. "We'll have our own family. We'll have everything we've lost."

You bite his neck suddenly, harshly, your teeth sinking into his skin until you taste blood. He gasps, his body jerking beneath you, but there's no fight left in him. There hasn't been for a long time. He sobs quietly as you kiss the wound, licking the blood from his skin, shushing him softly.

"'Shh... it's okay. It's okay, Aegon. You'll give me what I want, and I'l give you everything you need."

He's crying openly now, his body shaking with every sob, but his tears don't deter you. They fuel you. You press your body against his, your hands running over his bare skin as you whisper sweet, poisonous words into his ear.

"Do you want your children back, Aegon?" you ask, voice soft and poisonous. "Wouldn't that be nice? To hold them again. To see their little silver heads running around these halls?"

A sob escapes him, but he doesn't speak. His body quivers under your touch, tears sliding down his cheeks, as you run your thumb over his lips. There's no comfort here, not really, only a twisted kind of cruelty laced with sweetness. He knows it too. Knows that this is all wrong, but he's too far gone to care anymore.

"We can have them back," you whisper, leaning closer until your lips brush against his ear. "We can make them again. Our perfect little babes. Just like before."

He shakes his head, a small, pitiful gesture of defiance, but it only makes you laugh-a sharp, bitter sound that echoes off the cold stone walls.

"Why not, Aegon?" you coo, your tone soft but mocking. "Don't you want to be a father again? Don't you want to have your children back? We can name them after the ones we lost... after you lost them."

His breath hitches, and his tears flow faster. You straddle him, pushing him back down onto the cold stone floor, his chains rattling as you settle on top of him. His body stiffens beneath you, his eyes wide with fear, but there's nothing he can do to stop you.

"Think about it, Aegon," you whisper, your hands trailing down his chest as you slowly, methodically, undress him. "We'll name the first one Aegon. Just like you. Wouldn't that be perfect? A little Aegon, just like his father. He'll be beautiful."

He tries to speak, but all that comes out is a broken whimper. You smile, tilting your head as you run your hands over his trembling body, taking your time, savoring every tear, every ragged breath.

"And then we'll have more," you continue, your voice taking on a lilting, sing-song quality. "We'll name them after your lost children. After our father. Won't that be wonderful?"

You can see the madness in his eyes, the way his mind is breaking under the weight of it all. But there's something else there too一something darker, something twisted. He hates you. You know that. He despises you for what you've done, for what you're doing now. But he needs you. Needs your twisted affection. Needs this warped sense of control, even as it destroys him.

You move slowly, your body pressing against his as you begin to ride him, your pace deliberate and cruel. His breath hitches, and he tries to turn his head away, but you grab his chin, forcing him to look at you.

He sobs, his body shaking beneath you, but you shush him, pressing a finger to his lips. "Shh... don't cry, Aegon. This is what you want, isn't it? You want them back, don't you? You want our little family."

"Look at me, Aegon," you hiss, your voice cold, sharp. "Look at me while we make them. Look at me while I give you back what you lost."

He sobs harder, but his body betrays responding to your touch even as his mind screams in protest. You ride him slowly, cruelly, watching as he crumbles beneath you, his tears soaking the stone floor beneath his head.

"You'll thank me for this," you whisper, leaning down to kiss his tear-streaked cheek. "You'll see. We'll make them perfect this time. They'll be ours, Aegon. Ours alone."

He whimpers, his eyes glazed over with tears and despair, and you can see the last shred of his sanity slipping away. You kiss him again, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, your fingers digging into his skin as you ride him harder, faster, forcing him to surrender completely to your madness.

"Say it" you demand, your voice harsh now, a cruel edge to your words. "Say you want them. Say you want our children, Aegon."

He chokes on his sobs, his voice broken, barely audible. "I.. I want them..."

You smile, a sick, twisted grin, as you press your forehead against his, your breath hot against his skin. "Good boy" you whisper. "We'll have them. And they will stay alive this time."

He cries beneath you, his body shaking with every sob, but you don't stop. You ride him harder, your hands gripping his shoulders as you force him to give in completely, to surrender to the darkness that's consumed you both.

In that moment, nothing else matters. Not the throne, not the past, not the lives you've taken or the ones you've lost. All that matters is this一the two of you, broken and mad, clinging to each other in the twisted wreckage of your lives.

And when it's ove, when his body finally stills beneath yours, you press a soft kiss to his forehead, your voice sweet and soothing as you coo at him like a mother to her child.

"'Shh... it's okay, Aegon. We'll have our family back. We'll make them again. And this time, they'll be perfect."

He doesn't respond, his body limp, his mind shattered. But you don't care. You've won. You've taken everything from him, and now he's yours. Completely. And he will give you what you want.

They'll be perfect. Perfect little replicas of what you've lost. And this time, nothing will take them from you.

Nothing.

Part 2

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.6K]

THE TIMELINE

“Love is born into every human being; it calls back the halves of our original nature together; it tries to make one out of two and heal the wound of human nature. Each of us, then, is a ‘matching half’ of a human whole…and each of us is always seeking the half that matches him.”

- Aristophanes, Plato’s Symposium.

I. ATHENS, GREECE: 8TH CENTURY BC

The gods were angry.

Or so you’d heard. It started with whispers. Murmurs from the town and its people. Rumours spread across Athens the same way the breeze did at the start of summer. They said the gods were angry, furious.

How could the mortals be so silly? How could they possibly rile their gods like this? Again?

Stupid humans, foolish humans.

You didn’t understand.

But then one morning before the sun rose, you awoke to a reddened sky and a heavy wind, a storm brewing over the horizon, a dark mass you could see above the sea from your bedroom window. Preachers took to the streets then, standing on the cobbles with bells ringing above their heads, warning every person listening about the end of times. It had happened before, they said, their faces masks of horror. It was happening again.

The gardens all died, grass turning black, crops to dust, life fleeing from the ocean as Poseidon uprooted the seafloor, waves crashing against the cliff's edge. Athens turned to decay, colour slipping from the world as the gods ruled over it from the skies and sea. A punishment fit for the crime, the elders said, telling stories at the marketplace, of how their own grandparents had once been born together, joined at the heart, four arms and four legs.

One soul.

They said Zeus came from Olympus, that he’d crashed down to earth riding a bolt of lightning and he ripped the mortals apart. They said it was a bloodshed, rivers of red running through the plazas, wells turning thick like tar.

Zeus cursed everyone, you heard. Your kind had been getting too prideful, too full of ego and greed and want for more. The gods feared an uprising, they sat on their thrones and they resented to power you all craved.

So they did something about it.

With their wounds left to heal on their own over months and years, each half of a mortal was thrown to different corners of the earth, destined to spend the rest of their lives searching for the other half of their soul.

It seemed nothing more than a fable, a horror story for children, something you would never have believed. Soulmates? Someone made just for you? An impossible notion, you were sure you would have once thought, if you hadn’t already met yours.

He was at the forge when the first bolt of lightning hit the ground.

The concrete split and temples on the cliff sides shook, the tiles on each home shattering as they fell. You heard people yelling from your garden as the ground shuddered and an eerie quiet followed. A hollow silence, a calm before a storm and then something else hit the ground too.

Bigger, heavier, more powerful.

You dropped your basket and ran.

Still barefoot, you left the sodden clothes on the grass and fled, passing the sanctuary of your home, the temples beyond the rivers, the forests that came before the sea. You ran to the plaza, through the marketplace that was buzzing with fear, shoulders burning with pain as you slammed your way past everyone who ran against you. You were battling a tidal wave of townsfolk, each one crying and yelling.

You heard shouts of Titans! Furies!

People yelled out names they once didn’t dare whisper, each word said like a curse. Cronus, Crius, Oceanus, Thea. Standing on the marble steps of the Parthenon, a preacher in guided robes had blood running down the side of his face, a cut on his head matting his greying hair. He was ashen, clutching at his scribes and shouting at the frenzied crowd below.

“Tartarus has risen!” He yelled, “the gates of Hades have opened and we, foolish mortals, shall pay for our sins! The father of gods shall come for us, he shall feast upon thy flesh and bone and—”

The preacher's harrowing words were cut off abruptly as another crack in the earth opened up. The shining marble split and the man fell through, the world itself swallowing him whole. You didn’t have time to react more than a strangled cry coming from somewhere deep in your chest. You clasped your hand to your mouth, fearing you’d lose your breakfast, that you’d become too dizzy to keep moving.

The ocean was growing closer, too tall waves and swirling, dark pools buried into its depths. Ships were being sucked under, their white sails the last thing you saw before they were swallowed by Poseidon’s fury. A golden chariot raced down from the sky, sparks flying in the air as it landed on the roof of the Acropolis. More marble shattered and Ares, the god of war, had landed on earth to do his duty.

By the time you reached the forge, the plaza was running red, just like the elders had said it would. The bronzed statue of Hephaestus that guarded the entrance to the blacksmiths had come to life, the god himself taking its form as he spewed fire across the village, molten heat and steel dripping from his large hands, coal crumbling at his feet. The air smelled like ash, like fire and death.

As you searched for him - your other half - eyes wide and frantic, your chest heaving, Hades stood in the shadows across the cobbled road. Inky black dripped from him, from his robes, his skin, his mouth. He looked ghoulish until he stepped into what was left of the daylight, a trick of the sun turning his gaunt face handsome. He grinned at you, each tooth pointed and sharp and he held out a hand. A pomegranate was placed in his palm, the fruit cracked open and the ruby seeds spilling out of it like tiny jewels. He beckoned you, a voice in your head whispering, silky, sultry, full of promises that couldn’t be real.

Surely eternal damnation was better than a fate like this?

You moved, your body not your own, one foot in front of the other, your hand outstretched. Images flashed through your head, dark swirls of three headed dogs, rivers made of souls and gates of bones. But when they opened, there was a garden, more beautiful than the ones in Athens, with their marble pillars and fountains that led into ponds. In this garden, temples stood gleaming and tall, with maidens dancing amongst rose bushes, naked and with hair to their waists. They waved to you, more scarlet coloured fruit held in their hands and they were laughing, singing, pulling you closer--

Another bolt of lightning - bigger and louder and brighter than before - hit the ground and the maidens disappeared. The god of the underworld grinned once more before he stepped back into the shadows and turned to smoke, melting into the bloodied ground.

Zeus had landed in Athens.

And you couldn’t find Steve.

Steve Harrington, son of the town’s head blacksmith, was tending to the forge when the first god came to earth. He’d left you in bed, the threadbare sheets around you still warm, your skin littered with his leftover kisses, marks from his greedy fingers the night before. The sky had been scarlet when he walked across the plaza and in the far distance, a plume of smoke rose from what seemed like the ocean. The Methana volcano was simmering, waiting, spewing fumes of gas and dust.

A warning.

The forge cracked when Zeus arrived, the bricks splitting along with the forge floor, cobbles and bricks turning to rubble under the men’s feet. Fire and coal tumbled from the cast iron cages, half made swords of burning steel falling at their feet. The sky above rumbled, the windows shattering as bolts of lightning hit the land and people screamed, torturous sounds that made Steve run blindly out into the plaza.

Some were kneeling, their heads bent and their palms open to the sky, to the gods. A sacrifice that was ignored. Others ran, diving into buildings that immediately fell on top of them and Steve watched in horror as people dropped before him, falling like sacks, crumpled to the ground as they clutched their chests in agony. They called out their lovers' names, their voices hoarse, pleading, desperate and all at once, a crowd surged behind Steve, carrying him with them, his shoulders burning at the momentum.

He had to find you.

The market was in ruins, once fresh vegetables and fruits now smashed into the concrete, the smell of baked bread hidden under burning embers. Panicked horses fled their owners and carts, almost knocking Steve to the ground as they tried to escape the carnage. The sea level was rising, the shadows of boat sails towering over marble buildings, the hulls of ships teetering closer to pillars that once held the statues of the gods now seeking revenge. Steve had been raised to honour them, to covet them, to fear them.

And he’d never felt as scared as he did when he spotted you across the square, eyes wide and not yet finding his, your gaze too trained on the statue of Aphrodite that was crashing down too close to you. The white marble hit the floor and shattered, sending clouds of dust and dirt into the already smoke filled air and you disappeared from Steve’s sight once more.

Panic flooded him, a fear like no other and suddenly the gods that reigned from the seas and skies didn’t seem as terrifying anymore.

He yelled your name, choking on the fumes from the fires that had started to rage all around, Hephaestus riding a cloud of black coals and burning embers as he let fire pour from his palms and open mouth, a gaping maw of molten lava that dripped from and melted everything and everyone it touched. Steve flung himself to the ground to avoid the flames, crawling desperately forward before he caught himself and began to run again, hissing as the gaps in his shoes filled with shards of broken stone. Red poured from the soles of his feet but he didn’t think anything could hurt as much as the thought of losing you.

Again, he screamed for you, the letters of your name hitching in his throat, scratching like glass and more people tore in front of his path, running from the destruction. Bodies fell before him, couples forever trapped in a lovers embrace, their faces hidden in each other's chests. They became one again, four arms, four legs, two faces.

Joined at a heart that was no longer beating.

Steve didn’t want to die without you.

He found you in the rubble as Zeus moved closer, a grey and white shadow of a man, a huge hulking figure that didn’t seem real. He didn’t look like his marble castings, the statues that were gilded with gold leaf. He wore no olive laurel on his head, he bore no kind smile nor gentle eyes. Instead he held bolts of lightning in his hands like swords, like spears, throwing them at his victims with cruel precision.

A storm followed him, bigger than anything Steve had ever seen before. It turned the red clouds above the god purple and black, an inky slurry of darkness and electricity crackled between spaces. The air buzzed and Steve’s skin prickled, the static making his ripped and bloodied shirt cling to his damp chest.

Poseidon had finally shown himself, emerging from the waves, his skin a sickly green, his eyes darker than the deepest depths of the sea he came from. He held a triton, seaweed hanging from its points, his body scarred and battered from the horrors he created in the oceans. He seemed too big, a giant, an almost titan and rain poured from Zeus’ purple clouds as he advanced onto Athens.

Steve saw your arm, a limp hand from beneath a pile of stone and he cried as he lifted each piece of what was once Aphrodite. The marble face of the goddess of love smiled warmly at him and it felt mocking, it felt like an arrow to the chest.

You were still alive, barely awake, nose dripping blood and a slice across your forehead that narrowly missed your eye. You cried when Steve pulled you free, his strong arms wrapped around your torso and you clung to him, barely daring to look at the horrors that surrounded you. He smelled like smoke and fire and the metal sting of blood, but under it all, there was something like home that still lay on his skin.

He seemed frantic, calling your name over and over until you nodded and said his back, like it was only upon hearing your voice that he believed you were alive. Steve sat amongst the debris of Aphrodite and held you, your weak frame pulled into his lap and he cradled you there, your head on his shoulder and your arms around his neck.

You weren’t sure what you coveted more fiercely, the young man or your last breath.

A shadow lingered nearby, listening to the soft murmurs you shared the pretty lies you both needed to hear as you told each other it would be okay. Hades stood close, statuesque and with black plumes at the bottom of his dark robes, a midnight blue cast over his skin. He looked like he’d never been close to looking human. He held a timepiece in one hand, a golden thing that ticked too loudly and he grinned at you and Steve, watching, waiting as two creatures by his feet held scrolls of names. They were made od nothing kind, created from bone and other people’s spines, their too long tails and forked tongues that flickered over the skin of the dead as they sent their souls below.

Steve knew he’d fight a god before he let them take you.

But he didn’t get such the luxury of battling for his lover. Zeus moved closer still, rain pouring harder, electricity making his hair stand on end. The father of gods himself stood tall before you both, his eyes as white as his long hair and beard. Nothing about him softened as he gazed down at you both intertwined, blood from each other staining your lover's skin.

Steve pulled you closer, his hand cupping the nape of your neck as he pushed your face to his throat, shielding you, protecting you. You clung to him tighter, hands fisting in the rags of his old shirt and you wondered if you’d ever get to see him again. If this life was it, if this was all you were allowed.

The two of you in the ruins of Athens, the goddess of love shattered at your feet. Four legs, four arms, two faces, one soul. Connected by a heart that seemed weaker than ever in the presence of something cruel.

Silence came before the crack, the world stilling, Athens at peace. You found solace in Steve, your nose pressed to his neck as you held onto him, praying for something painless. You pushed two kisses to his skin then, the side of his throat that seemed to make your lips fizz and Steve sucked in a breath, his lips at your temple, cherishing the last touch he got of you.

“I love you,” Steve whispered and his voice cracked on each word. Tears from his eyes stream the dirt on his face, running rivers down your cheek until they mixed with your own. “I’ll find you again. In the next life, and the next again. I prom—”

A bolt of lightning, so hot it felt frozen, struck the breath of space between your chests. Something inside of you cracked then, ribs splintering as the weapon found your heart and you couldn’t feel Steve’s arms around you anymore.

You couldn’t feel anything.

[gojipink]

kiss it better

ஐ ft. childe

ஐ summary. you told your boyfriend you'll kiss his bruises better, so what happens when his dick aches too?

ஐ warnings. (N)SFW, mdni, fem!reader, deep throating , dirty talk, fem. pet names. 1.2k words

ஐ notes. if i make a blowjob mini series, who would u wanna see!

truthfully, you dont even know how you ended up here; childe supporting his weight against the bathroom sink counter and you kneeling in between his legs, knees cushioned by the bath mat. 

“babbbyyy,” he drawls out with a pout, breaking you out of your thoughts. he teasingly pushes the head of his hard cock against your face, leaky tip smearing precum against your cheek, “you said you wanted to kiss it better, right? you said you’ll kiss everything that was hurting me, didn’t you angel?” 

you huff at him, “i was talking about your bruised face and your knuckles, you perv! i didn't know you would get hard from just a small kiss on your cheek!” 

he scoffs and rolls his eyes, “a perfectly natural reaction to your kisses, i believe. now c’mon give it a kiss, it hurts way more than any of these bruises do,” he says while flashing his boyish grin at you.

you roll your eyes at him before letting a glob of spit fall into the palm of your hand while maintaining eye contact with the harbinger. the lewd sight making childe’s eyes instantly haze with lust as he gently combs the hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail so he can see better.

you take his cock into your hands and lightly work up and down his length, making sure to twist your wrist when nearing his tip. the slick sounds and childe’s light groans sending a shock of arousal straight to your clit. 

his dick twitches with impatience in your hold, “angel, don't tease,” he huffs. “you have no idea how good you look right now. be good for me, baby c’mon, kiss it, it hurts,” he near whines while his grip on your hair tightens, making your breath hitch. 

looking up at him with lust filled eyes, your tongue pokes out to kitten lick at the bead of pre-cum oozing from his slit before planting a wet and exaggerated mwah on his swollen tip. 

childe grins from above you, blue iris nearly swallowed up by his blown out pupils. “s’cute, princess, fuck such a good girl, aren’t you?” 

you hollow your cheeks sucking on his tip while you hum in agreement. the vibrations causing his hips to buck into your mouth a little, making you both moan out. 

“mmmh, the base hurts too, baby. you wanna try kissing it there too, hm?” 

 you pull him out of your mouth with a wet plop, your hand replacing your tongue as you circle your palm around his sensitive head, making his jaw clench tight. 

“can’t reach back there without your help, ajax,” you pout up at him. 

he swears he nearly blows his load from how cute you look saying such a dirty sentence.

“oooh shit,” he breathes out a small laugh, “you want me to help you reach, pretty girl?” he coos, “i’ve got you, baby, say ahhh.” 

“ahhhhh,” you maintain eye contact while opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue, giving him a little show as your hands come up to lightly rake your nails along his thigh. 

he grips the base of his cock as he lightly taps his sensitive head against your tongue a couple times, smirking to himself at the obscene plap, plap sounds. 

he stands away from the sink counter to give himself more stability as he inches his long cock into your mouth, hands gripping your hair tight to keep your head still. 

“o-oh, fuck,” he curses under his breath as he feels your hot tongue drag further and further down the underside of his shaft. his mushroom tip hits the back of your throat, throat constricting around him tightly as you choke around him. 

“a-ah! mhm that’s it, sweet girl, just relax f’me,” he lightly thrusts, slowly letting your throat adjust to him. “breathe baby, you’re doing so well. just a lil’ more, ugh making me feel so much better, aren't you, pretty?” 

you look up at him with tear dotted eyelashes, eyes glazed over with need, head a little fuzzy from the lack of oxygen. 

“a-almost there, mmh- such a good girl, yeah? doing such a good job kissin’ on me like this.”

his constant praise making you squeeze your thighs together, feeling the wetness pool in your own underwear, making a sticky mess. 

you whine needily around him, desperate to feel his cum down your throat already. taking a hand away from his thighs to play with his balls, giving them a light squeeze, trying to encourage him to go a bit faster. his breath hitches at the feeling of your gentle touch, feeling the white hot pleasure build at the base of his spine.

“o-oh shit-! big breath angel, ngh- gonna kiss the base for me? gonna make it feel all better, hm?” he slurs out, drunk off the feeling of making a mess out of your throat.

you take in a quick greedy inhale of air through your nose, your hands making their way back to his thighs, digging your nails into his toned flesh. his fingers, twisted in your hair, push your head forward to meet his thrusts, his flushed tip nestled deep between the tight walls of your throat. 

“f-fuck! mmmmh-! ooh sh-shit!” 

feeling your throat struggle to accommodate his dick as it flexes and constricts around him forces him to immediately shoot white ropes of cum down your throat, head tilted up towards the ceiling with his eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted together.

your lips meet the skin of the base of his cock in sloppy open mouth kisses as his hips stutter against your throat making you both moan out obscenely. 

“r-right there, oooh goooood girl. good. fuckin’. girl.” he punctuates each praise with short plunges in your throat before gently pulling his softening cock out of your mouth. 

throat finally free of the obstruction, you slump to the floor as you cough and swallow lungfuls of fresh air, fucked out tears and saliva smudged along your face. 

recovering quickly, he wets a hand towel before crouching down to meet you on the floor, gently wiping down your face. 

“s’good for me, baby. did so good, made me feel so much better, pretty. only you could make me feel like that, hm?” he showers you in praise as he cleans you up, grinning at you when he notices a small dopey smile come through on your lips as you catch your breath. 

“alright, upsy daisy, can't let my girl sit here on the cold tile now, can i?” he scoops you up into his strong arms as he lifts you up bridal style off the bathroom floor. entering your bedroom, he lays you down gently on the plush covers of the bed. 

he has a lovesick smile painted on his face as he pets your hair, watching your breathing slow back down to normal. reaching over you to litter your face in small kisses, you breathlessly giggle at his silly display of aftercare. you open your eyes to peek up his beaming face. 

“theeeere’s my princess! you rest here for a sec, i’ll go make some hot tea. i already know your voice is gonna sound a little fucked out,” he giggles. 

“ajax!” you hoarsely whisper shout at him, weakly swatting at his arm. his boyish laugh fills the room as he bounces up from the bed to hurry into the kitchen. 

“you stay there and rest for a second! it’ll be your turn when i get back!” 

[mayhemories]

Pregnancy baby trope baby daddy Neteyam x reader please

TELLING NETEYAM YOURE PREGNANT 😩😩😩😩😩😩

Tsahik Always Knows

Oh my god!! Daddy Neyetam would be so sweet! Also, I'm sorry for the lack of posts, I've been studying overseas and this course is an intensive fieldwork unit so I have had like no time to think. Additionally, some of my tags are working and some are not - I'm so sorry if I miss out on tagging you!

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader (James Cameron’s Avatar) 

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: none. Vomit? Fluff? 

Words: 1.8k

Author’s Notes: 

Neteyam is 24, reader is 23, established relationship. AU where they never left the forest and Jake is still Olo’eyktan, Neteyam will take that mantle eventually,, happy-happy can’t read or write any more angst for real. 

Please note that the reader utilises she/her pronouns. If you’d prefer male or gender-neutral pronouns in fic I’m more than happy to repost a male or gn version of the story, otherwise include any pronoun preferences in the request box!

Tag List: @lilprettypetite @nyotamalfoy @weasleytwinwheezes @aonungs-tsahik @rainbowsocks @glitterandgoldfinds @bluealiensimp @melsunshine @ussoppl @wondxrgurll @luvlykrispy @myheartfollower @gloryavila

Read Below Cut:

You stared at the remnants of last night’s dinner on the floor. You had vomited, again. This had been happening in the mornings, on and off for the last few weeks. You did not feel sick, so why were you sick? 

Normally the vomit happened at home. Normally Neteyam had already left to tend to his duties. Normally you could clean it up and pretend like it never happened. 

The heat of your embarrassment swarmed over your neck and shoulders, sweeping up into your cheeks and ears. You knelt, frozen in place over the bile you had just produced. 

On Mo’at’s tent floor. 

She was practically, and legally, your grandmother, and had been since you were nineteen-years-old. But you never thought of her like that. She was your Tsahik, your teacher, your elder, your spiritual guide, healer of the Omaticaya. 

And you had vomited on her floor. 

Mo’at cleared her throat, sitting across from you, your shameful vomit between you. Tears welled in your eyes. This was the worst day of your life. 

“Well, luckily it was just you and me here, hm,” Mo’at said with an unusual lightness, a sweetness that was enough to spin you out of your own thoughts. 

“My Tsahik, I am so sorry I do not know-” 

“Don’t be stupid, how can you not know?” The typical biting Mo’at that you were familiar with came back, quickly. The woman leaned forward with a cloth, mopping up your watery bile like a dealdly secret to be kept between the Tsahik and her assistant.

Now, you really did not know what she meant. You sat up taller, finding a cloth to wipe your mouth clean, something tangible to hold onto. 

“My Tsahik, I promise you, I do not know what you think I know.” You whispered into the cloth at your mouth. Mo’at discarded her cloth that blotted your vomit into a wooden bowl. Some poor trainee will deal with it later. She squinted at you, taking you in. Harshly, she grabbed at your wrists, inspecting your palms, and your shaking, delicate fingers. 

She huffed as she held your wrist tightly in her left, her right hand poking at your cheek, breasts and thighs. “Hey!” you had enough of her prodding, as you pulled your wrist from her vice-like grip. 

“Lay down. Now.” The Tsahik made moves to push you back onto the woven mats on the floor. You were scared and confused and honestly, getting rather emotional. You were still reeling over the embarrassment the vomit caused you. More and more these days you found yourself crying over nothing, or getting easily embarsassed. 

You laid still, scared of Mo’at, and, scared of vomiting again. Flat on your back, you stared at the keen weavings of Mo’at’s medical tent. You hissed, looking down, Mo’at has placed a cold hollowed stone on your lower stomach, her ear pressed against it, she furrowed her brow bone. 

The elder woman jerked up once she was satisfied, discarding her stone instrument, she settled back into her seated position on the floor, you mirroring her. 

“Tsahik-” 

“You are with child, quite obviously.” Mo’at had cut you off, while simultaneously giving you news that ripped all the air from your lungs. 

Your mind was spinning. You were happy, you were sad, you were excited, you were embarrassed. How could you not see the signs within yourself? Obviously you and Neteyam mated often- 

Oh, Eywa. 

Neteyam. 

You were going to have to tell him. 

It was not like you both hadn’t spoken on the topic before, you knew you both wanted kids, a family. Additionally, children were expected, a future Olo'eyktan must be secured. 

But the two of you had not planned for it to happen so soon. You had been so careful, tonics and teas. God, Neteyam pulled out most of the time. 

Subconsciously one hand laid across your abdomen, the other covering your mouth. You felt your eyes struggling to focus on Mo’at, on anything really. You felt like a shell. A shell with a small shell inside. 

“How far along?” You whispered, normally you would scold yourself for your informality towards Mo’at, but you would give yourself a break just this once. 

“A month, maybe two. Nothing more, nothing less. You are not physically showing yet but you cannot be far away.” The rare gentleness from Mo’at rose its head once again. You were grateful for it. “Now, my lovely girl, go. Go collect yourself and tell my grandbaby that you’re having my great-grandbaby.” Mo’at said softly, helping you to your feet. 

You couldn’t remember the short walk from Mo’at’s tent to the home you shared with Neteyam. You felt as if you were on auto-pilot, blacking out and teleporting from place to place. You quickly sat on the side of your shared bed. Furs and gossamer blankets providing comfort to your shaking legs. Laying back, you stared at the gossamer canopy Neteyam had only recently erected above your bed, dangling your legs off the side. 

You rested your hands on your stomach, trying to etch into your memory what it felt like now, knowing that it will eventually swell with the growth of your baby. 

Neteyam’s baby. 

Realistically, you knew that Neteyam won’t be angry. Shocked? Maybe. But angry? Neteyam had never, ever been angry with you before. Emotionally? It was a different story, you imagined Neteyam being frustrated and screaming at you. You imagined him being disappointed. You imagined him packing his things and leaving. The passing thoughts alone were enough to put you on edge. 

Sighing aloud, you had a look at the water clock resting on the other side of the room, you still had a few hours before Neteyam was to return. You still had a few hours to pull yourself together and work out how you were going to spit it out. 

Neteyam ran his hands over his face, pulling up his ionar onto his forehead. His whole body burned from that flight. He had missed you today, not usually staying out on patrol this late, but the young recruits needed training, and Neteyam was always eager to please. But, he was a domestic man at heart, he loved being at home with you, loved pulling you to his chest, loved making whatever new thing you asked for. 

He loved nesting, he realised. Loved doing it with you. 

Striding from the Ikran keeper, Neteyam wanted nothing more than to see you. 

The warm lights of your home welcomed him, though when he peered through the gap in the curtain flap, all he saw was your anxious figure, pacing back and forth, muttering to yourself. The air was wrong, Neteyam had never really seen you like this. He watched quietly, confused as to how you had not scent him already, something was wrong with you and he would be damned if he did not find out what. 

“Oh Eywa, what am I supposed to say?” You prayed silently, wringing your wrists. You thought the pacing would bring you clarity, as it often provided your father-in-law. Yet you felt empty. And so unbearably full at the same time. In the few hours you had to wait for your mate you had come to love the little life growing in your womb.

You were so excited. You could hardly contain yourself. Neteyam would be the most perfect father. But as the night grew closer your brain started to pick itself apart. 

It was all too much. You fell to your knees in the middle of your home, letting the tears flow freely now. 

Neteyam did not let that stand for long. He quickly rushed in, picking you up and placing you in his lap. His strong arms snaking around your sobbing form. Your head quickly found is chest. He felt your hot tears streaming down your beautiful face and onto his skin. Neteyam hushed you, like he watched his mother do with his siblings, gently rocking you back and forth. It was so silent, save from your sobbing hiccups. Neteyam did not dare speak until you had stopped. 

“My love, what has happened?” He asked gently, pulling away to cup your delicate face in his large, calloused hands. His eyes found yours, and he could see something was creating great turmoil in the labyrinth of your complicated, intelligent mind. 

You sighed in response, shaking your head. Trying to find any courage at all. Knowing you have news that will change the course of someone’s life was not something you dealt with well. Maybe you were not cut out to be the clan’s spiritual leader as Tsahik. But that was a different problem for a different day. 

Neteyam placed a chaste kiss to your lips, then your cheeks, under your eyes, the tip of your nose, your forehead. You were loved, he said through the gesture. You are safe here. 

“Neteyam,” You started, softly. You were always softspoken. Something of which drove Neteyam crazy in love with you. So gentile, so docile, so calm. “I have something to tell you.” Neteyam’s stomach started to flip at your words, anxiety settling in, but like any good soldier, he willed his face into a blank expression. Giving nothing away. 

And, in turn, giving you nothing. 

“Continue my little love.” He said, putting your baby hairs behind your ears, smoothing your loose hair down as you spoke. 

“Neteyam,” You cleared your throat, forcing that invisible, metaphysical bubble away. “I am with child.” The words hung in the air between you, and all you could do was wait for your mate to respond.

Neteyam felt like he was dreaming. Of all the things he prepared for you to say, you being pregnant was not one of them. 

His tail betrayed him before his mouth did. Rapidly going side to side, the smile that erupted on Neteyam’s face threatened to split his jaw apart. 

You were carrying a baby. His baby. Your baby, together, with him. 

You melted into Neteyam’s searing kiss as he held you flush to his body. Pulling apart, Neteyam’s hands rested on your stomach, bright eyed and smily. He kissed your stomach over and over and over again. Peppering the whole area with his hot lips. You giggled at him. He was perfect. 

“Oh (y/n), I am so happy.” Neteyam kissed you again, your giggles erupting between kisses as he could not decide on what he wanted to look at, your face or your stomach. “How long have you known, sweetheart?” He rested his forehead on yours, his hands resting on your still flat stomach. 

“I found out earlier today.” You couldn’t help but smile. “Your grandmother knew.” 

Neteyam laughed, his shoulders shaking, beads of his braids clinking together. 

“She knows everything.” 

That night as the two of you laid in bed, Neteyam spooning you, you rose out of your slumber briefly. Neteyam’s tail had wrapped itself around your thigh, your own tail sat under your abdomen of its own accord. Neteyam’s fingers splayed over your stomach. He was so protective already. So in love with you and your unborn baby. 

You smiled. Shutting your eyes you thanked Eywa for gifting you with something so precious. 

[inkykeiji]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ alastor + dressing you in white

character: alastor warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, heavy pet/master dynamic, toxic relationship (condescension), blood + blood eating, slight gore, fem!reader words: 1.8k

alastor exclusively dresses you, his precious little pet, in white—white linen dresses, white silk pjs, white cotton undies—and you’ve finally figured out why.

“Alright, uh,” Charlie’s finger flicks the worn cardboard spinner in her hands, watching as the arrow lands on a splotch of colour. “Right hand, red!”

You’re in the parlour when it happens—a sudden, sharp pain that sears through your ribs as you bend over, a reactive hiss spit from between gritted teeth. 

“Whats’a matter?” Angel teases, panting slightly. “Too short to reach your colour?” 

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, Angel’s long limbs easily twist to obey the most recent order, both of his right hands finding red circles on the crinkled plastic mat.

“No, I just—”

“Holy shit!” his gasp cuts you off, all amusement eradicated from his face, dissolved by concerned shock. “You’re bleeding!” 

“What?” 

Glimpsing down at your body, your eyes are drawn toward the rapidly developing blot of scarlet, steadily seeping through white linen—a gruesome petal, irregular edges spreading, slow but ceaseless, eating away at the fabric.

A gurgle of disquiet sounds from the couch, voices tangling together, dulled to your ears as your gaze finds your Master’s. 

But he doesn’t meet your stare. 

Unblinking crimson eyes are focused on the flowering patch of blood, beginning to mottle as specks bloom around it. His chest rises and falls with even little huffs of air, ebony pupils gnawing at his irises as they devour the sight, his fingers twitching on his knee. Your gaze drifts back to the smeared blemish, the softest whimper dripping from your lips.

It’s beautiful. 

Alastor was right; your blood does look ravishing against the crisp bright fabric—stark but artful, a miniature abstract piece being painted in real time as the substance transudes the linen, created by your body and his, together. 

Now you understand; there is a reason why Alastor always dresses you in white. Especially when the abrasions he leaves have a nasty tendency to split and spill out. 

Entranced, your fingers press around the sensitive flesh, feeling the open wound hollowed by your dress and staining your skin with a glittering crimson, a sharp breath sucked through the gaps of your teeth, flashes of speared agony radiating through the surrounding flesh.

Your sound of pain seems to snap Alastor from his revere, blinking twice as he comes back to himself, smile stretching wider with something sinister, worming between razored teeth.

“All right,” Alastor’s saying as he stands from the couch, bravado ringing strong and clear and firm over the chatter. “I’ll take care of this.” 

“Are you sure? That looks, uh—”

“Why is she bleeding in the first place?” 

“Alastor, maybe we should—”

“Come, pet.” Alastor disregards the chorus of concerned comments without sparing them a glance, holding an arm out to you in invitation.

Then you’re scampering to his side, instant, instinctive, allowing him to curve around you protectively, guiding you away from a collection of worried faces with a palm plastered over the injury. 

“I told you not to play,” Alastor admonishes in a singsong while he guides you through the threshold of his bedroom

Leaning into him, you nestle your cheek against his ribs, catlike, hiding the blurry disappointment nipping at your eyes.

“But I wanted to.” 

“You should’ve known better,” he chides, but his voice is tender, fingers rubbing soothing circles into your shoulder as he ushers you into his bathroom, depositing you on the rim of the clawfoot tub. “Your injuries are not fully healed yet.” 

Your injuries are never fully healed, you want to point out. He is constantly engraving new cuts, scrapes, slashes, bites into you; there is never a moment where your body is not stained with Alastor in some way.

“I thought they’d be okay,” you say instead, forehead scrunched in petulance. 

“Well, you thought wrong.”

“Who knew a game of Twister could be so strenuous,” you mutter to yourself, bottom lip wavering on the edge of a pout. 

He snorts out a titter, mean and scoffing as his fingers pick through the first aid kit. “For such a smart little girl, you can be really stupid sometimes, can’t you?”

“What?”

But he refuses to elaborate, continuing on as if you hadn’t spoken at all. 

“Clearly, Master cannot allow you to make decisions for yourself,” he teases, but his tone holds a twinge of sincerity, a vow of certainty. 

This is the last time you’ll be making a decision on your own for a long time. 

“Arms up.” 

Immediately, you comply, arms held straight over your head, Alastor’s hands curling in the hem of your dress and pulling it from your body in one swift, fluid motion. 

It stings, the linen of the dress ripped harshly from the steadily weeping wound it had been clinging to, a yelp cracking in your throat. 

A halfhearted hush falls from your Master’s lips as he carefully drapes the soiled dress over the rim of the tub, taking a moment to admire the stain. A finger traces around the blotch almost affectionately, a tender sigh exhaled out his nose. Then his palms are finding your legs, pushing them apart and sinking to his knees, wedging himself between your spread thighs. 

“All right, let Master see,” he murmurs, shoulders hunched a little as he becomes eye level with the gash, your spine straightening to present the tear to him. 

Hesitant fingers prod at the surrounding flesh, now smeared with dried blood, inspecting the damage. 

“You ripped open every single stitch,” Alastor chuckles quietly, his fingers tugging at the bordering skin and watching with macabre awe as the wound gapes open beneath the pressure, a thick torrent of blood oozing out. 

A whine that sounds suspiciously close to his title sticks in your throat, half-stifled by your clenched teeth, and he looks up at you, sadistic amusement glimmering in his eyes. 

“Does that hurt, sweetheart?” His fingertips press down on the tender flesh, now slick with blood, and shove together, completely sealing the wound, another cascade of crimson spilling past the seam. 

“Master!” you cry out, fingers clamping over his shoulders to steady yourself, nails scraping against cotton. 

 The force of his touch increases, claws nearly sinking into the torn slash. “Answer my question.”

“Yes!” you choke out, head nodding in quick little motions. “Yes, it hurts.” 

A soft hum vibrates at the back of his throat, sharp teeth hidden behind a wide, close-lipped smile. Leaning forward, he plants his tarnished hands on your thighs for stability, then runs his nose along the top of the cut, inhaling one deep breath, his entire ribcage expanding as his chest swells with it. 

He stops, holds the scent in his lungs for a moment, lets it ferment into something sick and foul, lets it steep in the tissues and infuses them with you, before finally exhaling, the rush of air frigid against the bleeding gash.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, rubbing his mouth into the blood. “So fucking delicious.”

Tongue unfurling from his mouth, he traces, slow and cautious, around the edges of the wound with the tip, turning rusted blood watery and faded, grotesque streaks painted across your flesh. A noise claws at his throat, desperate to get out as he shoves it back down, tongue flattening over the slit and dragging, measured and meticulous, slick muscle soaking up the percolating blood.

“Alastor,” you nearly moan, dainty fingers curling around his antlers, the sudden touch evoking a growl from deep within his chest. 

“Let your Owner clean it,” he spits against the injury, lips brushing it again, voice muffled by your skin. 

And so, you do—because you’re nothing if not an obedient little pet girlfriend for your Owner, back arching as you press your ribs into his mouth, offering yourself up to him.

He laves over the laceration three more times, glazing it in a protective layer of his saliva, glimmering in the light with each of your shallow breaths. 

“Better,” he breathes, the word nothing more than a wisp of air against the wet cut, chills skittering across your flesh. 

“Th-Thank you, Master,” you whisper, fingers tugging on his antlers a little, desperate to get him closer. “I—It felt nice.” 

Crimson eyes flick up, his gaze veiled by heavy lids as he laps at his lips, cleaning them of excess blood, some of it streaked along his chin. 

And, oh, how breathtakingly beautiful he looks coloured in strokes of you. 

Hips twitching a little, your thighs tense around his torso, and he looks down again, eyes honing in on the drenched lace between your legs, panties molding to your cunt and accentuating every dip, every bump, every contour. 

He chuckles at the sight—something dark, something decadent, something demeaning melting on his tongue. 

“Well,” he pants softly to himself, pride tweaking the edges of his smile. “Would you look at that.” 

A finger traces the outline of your cunt—over your hood, along your lips, circling your hole and just barely pressing into it, watching with a morbid fascination the way it flutters against his finger, delicate material dipping, trying to siphon his finger into you.

“You would like that, you nasty little girl.” 

But he’s aroused, too, his cock straining eagerly against his trousers, a direct result of your sweet blood still tinging his tongue, your precious yelps of pain still ringing in his ears. Saliva pools in the dips of your mouth as you stare at it, thighs flexing on either side of him again, another gush of warmth flooding the apex of your legs. 

“Master, you’re—” you begin in a stringy, needy whine, swallowing thickly. “You—You’re…Can we…” 

“Can we what?” 

A knuckle finds your chin, drawing your eyes back to his, a thumb gripping the point, inhibiting you from fleeing his invasive stare. 

“Come now, it’s rude not to finish your sentence.” 

Pricks of embarrassment erupt across your face, eyes teetering on a wince as you force the stubborn words from your tongue, question trembling.

“Can we fuck?” 

Crimson searches your face, pupils pulsing with a vile sort of voracity, consuming his irises bit by bit as he contemplates. His gaze is cutting, slicing into you as it torturously pulls apart your features and examines them one by one. 

And you—you let him, open and willing and vulnerable and raw as you bear your soul to him, as you rip yourself open for him, as your fingers dig through meat and blood and bone to get to your core, offering it to him wholeheartedly. 

“Perhaps,” he finally responds, reaching for his surgical needle and thread. “I’m going to re-stitch this now,” he tells you, voice a touch huskier than before. “If you are well behaved as I tend to the wound—no squirming, no complaining—I might just give you what you want.” 

His stare holds your own, an eyebrow raising, imbued with inquiry. 

Are you ready to play? 

Oh, he isn’t going to make it easy for you, but you’re up for the challenge.