#I am being consumed by feelings………………… | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starmocha · 2 days ago

Note

sorry if this is too dark but if MC did die, how do you think each of them would react/the severity of the reaction? Obviously all of them would be crushed but I think Caleb would definitely either 1) end everything 2) end himself

Oh, I've written plenty of dark stuff before in other fandoms so...

So…do you guys have your tissues ready? Guys’ reactions to losing both you and the baby. For the sake of continuity, it follows the previous ask someone wondered about an MC with a risky pregnancy. I will be writing two other alternate “endings” another time (losing you, but baby lives & both you and the baby live. I won’t be doing a miscarriage/stillbirth one since no one asked.). These ficlets will also be available on AO3 in my fic collection, and we’ll chase after shooting stars.

(I actually do have a series with the guys grieving your death, but I am way behind on it. I have Zayne and Rafayel’s stories up if anyone’s interested in reading them.)

life moved on

Zayne would struggle internally, his logical side at war with his own emotional state.

He was a doctor. He knew there would always be a risk of loss. He himself sometimes had to be the one to deliver this type of unfortunate news to families.

Only, he just never imagined he would be on the receiving end one day.

He had monitored you throughout your pregnancy, learning more, and taking precautions wherever necessary. He knew the risk, he knew there was always that chance. But he had hoped. He had prayed. He had believed.

And it was all in vain.

He had been letting work consumed him. Life still moved on. The world would not stop for him, and there were still lives that he could save. There was not a moment to waste.

Sometimes, though, the world did slow down, everything pausing, such as now as he sat down at his desk lined with a row of photographs in frames. The snapshots of the life he had lost, of the future that should have been his, seemed to stare back at him in cruel mockery.

For just this moment, alone in his office, Zayne let his grief poured out, the heavy sobs filled the former silence in the room. In an hour, he would compose himself again, returned to being Doctor Zayne, and he would resume his duty, because life moved on.

But his heart stayed buried, resting with you and the child he lost.

no rest for the wicked

Rafayel falls into a deep depression, riddled with guilt, because he believes he is being punished for what he had said previously.

There was no rest for the wicked.

Rafayel couldn’t recall the last time he had slept peacefully, or even at all. Surely, this must be a punishment, right?

He had said such horrible words, so he was being punished for them, right? He didn’t deserve the baby, and he didn’t deserve you, so he was punished with the loss of both. That was a fair punishment, right?

He laughed, the sound so hollow and mirthless, his chest tightening with pain as tears trickled down his face.

Right. He didn’t deserve this.

So why should he deserve anything?

He grabbed an empty canvas and hurled it at the wall, destroying it instantly.

He didn’t deserve any of this.

He grabbed another, and another, and another. He incinerated several art pieces at various stages of completion, feeling nothing as they turned to ashes. He vandalized most of his studio, destroying his tools and everything he had ever created. There was no meaning to any of this anymore.

Heaving heavily and with a dagger in his hand, he turned to the grand canvas that filled the space of a wall. He plunged the weapon into it, dragging it down over and over again, his mind filled with a cacophony of his own voice and yours.

My fishie…I won’t leave you…

“Don’t lie to me…” he kept attacking the canvas, his words growing more frenzied, “Don’t leave me…I’m yours…I’m yours…you promised to stay…”

He dropped the dagger and fell to his knee, his forehead resting against the canvas as he sobbed. He was so exhausted, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep again in your arms.

“I’m sorry…”

forever would be nice

Xavier would feel so much guilt, almost as if he didn’t do enough to help you.

He felt so incompetent.

He should have done more. Should have done something.

Xavier could hear you scolding him, telling him it wasn’t his fault. Deep down, he knew it was true, but he wanted a reason, wanted an explanation for why that day happened. If he at least shouldered the blame, then maybe he could make sense of why he lost not only you but the baby as well.

Lately, it seemed like it was harder to wake up. He had not changed the bedsheet or pillowcases in a while, the scent of you still lingered, helping him sleep most nights. In these sweet dreams, he lived another life, his world completed with both you and the baby.

He wished he could dream just a little longer. Forever would be nice.

just enough

Sylus reverts to who he used to be, cold and distrusting.

There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to numb this pain, but maybe if he drank enough, he could begin to forget.

Forget the you who had fearlessly took his hand no matter how dangerous he was, the you who had wanted to bring light into his dark world, the you who accepted him for who he was, loved him just as he was.

Sylus’ hand tightened around his glass, the force enough that it shattered and shards pierced his skin. He stared emotionlessly at his cut hand, the blood dripping profusely to the floor not even registering in his mind that it was his.

As his wounds healed on their own, his eyes glazed over, and he remembered another day when there was so much more blood than this. There was just so much blood on that hospital bed, and he remembered how his voice was completely raw as he screamed at the panicked doctor and nurses, and then the chaos subsided, an eerie silence had followed, his whole world gone in an instance.

There was no noise. There was no warmth. There was no joy. There was only this sudden void in his life again, one that he had tried to fill for so long.

Not enough alcohol to numb the pain, not enough punching bags for him to take his rage out on, and not enough money to bring back what was.

If he could trade away his riches, his power, his glory, he would in a heartbeat for a chance to have you back, because with you, everything was just enough. He desired nothing else but you, the love and happiness you had brought into his life was enough.

always by your side

Caleb wouldn’t be able to bear living in a world without you, since his whole life since childhood had revolved around you.

There were hushed whispers throughout the Farspace Fleet, all quieted in an instance whenever Caleb passed by. The Colonel was always a strict man, his presence demanding respect for his authority, but recently, there had been a change, his demeanor hardening, his violet eyes dulled, a despair hidden beneath his icy façade.

One night in warm June, he left Skyhaven in the dead of night, catching a late train to Linkon. He disembarked, empty-handed, his feet automatically moving, his mind muddled with memories of a little girl who came into his life so long ago, of his promise to always be by her side, their lives always intertwined until that one awful day he was taken from her.

However, nothing could ever keep him from you. He would always find his way home to you, and no matter the storms in your lives, he would find a way to right things.

You were both going to be happy. There was nothing make-believe about the life you two were going to have.

You had worn a white dress, him in his colonel uniform, and with your hand in his, he had vowed his life to you once more, his joy boundless when you echoed back to him similar words. After marriage came the baby carriage, and you were all going to be a family of three.

He had always taken care of you, and he still took care of you even when there were concerns about the pregnancy. He had done everything right, made sure you were safe throughout, so how could things have gone wrong in the eleventh hour?

The moment you slipped from his life, his whole world stopped, the nightmares he had thought were gone returned with a vengeance, haunting him with dreams of that day over and over again. He had failed you, the hospital had failed you, everyone had failed you, because he would rather believe this than ever think he was always meant to lose you over and over again until you were ripped from his life for good.

It wasn’t fair.

He wondered what sin he carried to be punished with the loss of both you and the baby. A baby conceived from love, an innocent being, never once taken breath but only knowing death. Caleb wondered what kind of God would be so cruel, wanting to scream his anger out, wanting to demand answers to all of the questions that had been haunting him.

He stopped walking, seeing a locked gate blocking his path. He stared at it dully before he pulled out a gun, shooting the lock once with perfect precision. He continued walking, the path he was taking lined with rows of gravestones of those long departed from this world.

The one he wished to see was secluded, in its own area and hidden away, just like how he had always wished when you were alive. The world had never deserved you, and now he was even more convinced, you were always too good for this Hell on earth.

A grave among bushes of hydrangeas, his breathing suddenly became ragged. The air was heavy and he was pulled to his knees, his lungs tightening as he struggled to breathe, but for this brief instance, there was a smile on his face as he let go of his control over his Evol.

The gun he used earlier levitated ominously.

He started laughing, tears in the corners of his eyes. He could hear your voice again. You were calling for him.

Caleb! Caleb!

“I’m here,” he whispered, “I’ll always be by your side.”

Caleb always kept his promises to you. Always.

Among the dead, a deafening noise resounded, startling the wild creatures that lurked around the area.

Surrounded by the pink and blue and white of the hydrangeas, the summer seemed so endless now as the ground was dyed in crimson.

384 notes · View notes

crow-quilll · 2 days ago

Note

hii! when are you gonna post chapter 11? i have been waiting impatiently ahhhh

Hello!! So sorry, just finished my last assignment today and NOW I am free from university's evil clutches for a whole week. SO I can say that Chapter 11 for Nobody's Soldier will be out tomorrow :) But as a little treat, here's a taste tester:

(CW!!: Aftermath of torture)

-----

"I lost, Young-il," Gi-hun's voice grows quieter, lower, more vulnerable, "I lost. I- I couldn't last through all of it, I gave the Front Man what he wanted."

He runs his own hands through his hair, resisting the urge to pull at the strands to distract himself from the dull, all-consuming shame.

"And then he came in here and--"

Gi-hun cuts himself off, pressing his lips together as he instantly decides that he can't vocalize what happened next. He just can't. Telling Young-il about the torture was one thing, but telling him how the Front Man hand-fed him stew? How he gently caressed his face and called him "beautiful"?

No. Young-il didn't need to know all of that, he didn't. He would never be able to look at Gi-hun the same again without picturing the Front Man's hand wrapped around his throat, deciding if Gi-hun had behaved well enough to earn the privilege of breathing.

Young-il's hand finds his shoulder gently from behind, "I'm so sorry."

Gi-hun's shoulders lower with a shaking breath out, pulling his hands down from his face, "It doesn't matter, it's over now. We've got more important things to worry about."

"Gi-hun, you are important," Young-il corrects him, forcefully turning him around to see his face, "How do you expect to lead a rebellion if you can barely stand?"

"I can stand just fine," Gi-hun refutes stubbornly as he meets the other's eyes, ignoring the way his entire body trembles from supporting his own weight, "What time is it? How long until lights out?"

"Just stop," Young-il commands firmly, both hands finding the sides of his arms as if they never left, "take a breath."

Gi-hun stares at him bewildered for a moment, something in him instinctively itching to disobey like a beaten dog that bites before it can be kicked again. He has to remind himself that he's talking to someone who genuinely wants to help. He tentatively obeys, taking a slow breath in and wincing at the movement of his mutilated ribs. He holds it for a moment, a dull blush creeping into his face at Young-il's close inspection, and lets the breath out through parted lips.

"We've got time, okay?" In-ho urges, rubbing the side of his arm gently, "You are bleeding through your bandages, so let me at least redress your wounds before you set off for another fight."

"Young-il, I'm fine--"

"I shouldn't have to keep arguing with you about this," Young-il cuts his lie off, "I know you are in pain. Anyone would be after all you've been through."

Gi-hun grinds his teeth and looks away, "It's not that simple. If we don't make a move now--"

"Hey," Young-il's fingers find his chin and pull his face back up, forcing their eyes to meet, "do you trust me?"

Gi-hun hesitates a little, swallowing the growing lump in his throat at the way that Young-il holds him. It resembles the Front Man's touch just enough to make him instantly nauseous -- but it's different. The Front Man's touch is cold and unyielding like the sharp kiss of frostbite, but Young-il's is tingly and pleasant like warm rain. And yet, a pit still curls in his gut like two frigid hands reached down his throat, took hold of his intestines, and wrung them like a wet towel.

He shouldn't be hesitating - why is he hesitating? Young-il has proven time and time again that he genuinely wants to help Gi-hun overthrow the Front Man. And yet, Gi-hun can't shake this haunting feeling that he's making the wrong choice.

But it's not Young-il making him hesitate, is it?

It's the Front Man and his games. Gi-hun has been warped like wood in water by this place. He can feel rot spreading to every facet of his being, chewing away at everything he is and ever will be like a cancer. His belief that he could rely on other people died with a whimper the day that Sang-woo bled out in his arms.

If he can believe that humanity is still capable of good, then why can't he trust anyone without waiting for a knife to dig into his back?

So, despite that sinking sensation in his chest, Gi-hun bites back his automatic reservations and lets his cracked walls lower.

"I trust you," Gi-hun says honestly, sounding far more breathless than he originally meant as he feels Young-il's breaths warming his face.

Young-il's fingers fall away from his chin, his intense gaze softening like ice in sunlight, "Then let me help."

-----

Hehe, I hope you enjoyed this little appetizer. A new chapter is on its way, get ready my friends <3 <3

#nobody's soldier fic #whump fic #gihun x inho #nobody's soldier #seong gihun #457 #inhun #inhun fanfic

55 notes · View notes

uncreative-cryptid · 10 hours ago

Text

aha this has me thinking about about cannibalism and morality now, and not just for any reason, but i think the reason a lot of people can't give a better explanation of "cannibalism is bad because that's illegal" probably don't understand that centuries of death rituals and innate teachings of religion are likely at work here.

if you read the bible on death and how the dead are meant to be handled, you'll probably note something rather distinct:

Numbers 19:11 ; "Whoever touches the dead body of anyone will be unclean for seven days"

you are considered "unclean" when handling dead bodies, so i would also give to assume that the idea of eating a human body would be difficult as you would be considered unclean and would have to go through a whole ass cleansing ritual to be considered "clean" and "acceptable" again.

but this isn't the only thing at play here when it comes to cannibalism. i think that religion's views and handling of the dead also lay within their death rites and rituals, as a lot of religions will consider the human body sacred. i think it'd be abhorrent if someone you loved passed away then was flayed, sectioned, and butchered, all before you in a way to be consumed and then you were offered a piece of meat as compensation.

i can only imagine how the catholics would feel if we exhumed the saints and decided to chew on a femur or two for enrichment.

though, alternatively, consumption of a person in some ways can be seen as symbolic of love (i.e. jesus saying the bread is his body and the wine his blood, that you may consume him and accept him)

something i think a lot of people also unconsciously take into consideration without truly realizing it is that when say "corpse" you are using a very broad term that could mean anything dead.

i like to eat meat, particularly ribs. i am actively consuming a cooked corpse when i choose to eat ribs. now, why does that make it different from saying "eat humans"? well, when i consume beef or pork ribs, i am eating an animal i have over many years been conditioned to equal as a source of food.

hundreds, if not thousands, of years of society telling me that animal and livestock lives are less than. i can still vividly recall the way my family excused ruthless slaughter of farm animals for consumption as "well they aren't going to heaven because they don't have souls anyway".

so what point am i trying to make here exactly?

inherently, over a long period of time, either based in religion or just societal belief, we have conditioned ourselves to see humans as "higher" - after all, we're top of the food chain. in some arbitrary way, we've assigned ourselves as gods of a hierarchy of animals. we are sentient, we are living and breathing and aware and emotional and volatile and constantly changing creatures subject to love, hate, pain, fear, bravery, bias, and a number of learned behaviors we subconsciously take on.

because we think, therefore we am.

so we have:

religious beliefs (the dead are unclean, diseased AND the body is sacred and must be treated with respect as is their final rites for their transition into the afterlife)

humans are a "higher being" and should be treated as such

but lastly i'd like to point out that once you start thinking of humans, specifically dead humans, you begin to assign faces mentally.

the discussion of death and mortality is not often discussed outside certain circles or in the context of "a life after death, what waits beyond", and rarely do we actually discuss death in of itself.

this aversion to the discussions of death has inherently led to a lot of people becoming uncomfortable with the idea that we as mortal beings can and will die, this fate is inevitable no matter how we wish to perceive it.

i imagine that in some sense, when discussing the ethics and morals of cannibalism, we are subconsciously putting ourselves into that role. we tend to put our ego into a lot of things, because at the heart of it we are animals that want to preserve our lives to some degree.

cannibalism is uncomfortable because it poses the concept of death and humanity as nothing greater than the animals of the greater wilds, who must feast or die.

so, the points to make as to why cannibalism is "illegal" or "morally incorrect":

religious beliefs

humans are "higher beings"

the ego

humanizing what is no longer human, or what used to be human.

that last point, i highly suggest watching Caitlin Doughty's video The Rugy Team That Fell From The Sky, as it's part of her historical documentary and actually covers the topic of cannibalism (she has 3 that i can think of that cover cannibalism as a matter of fact to the story).

when faced with no alternative, people will turn to cannibalism.

in the book Tender Is The Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica, it poses the question "what if no animal on earth was edible except humans?" and proceeds with explicit detail on how man would go about handling this - it's not something i suggest reading, it is graphic and hard to stomach, but essentially:

the less human you make it, the easier it is to consume.

we personalized and humanize, we're animals who seek comfort in the pack of families and communities. the more human, the more personal, the more you will struggle to consume that which as become more real to you.

but what if we could make it something of a ritual? a sacred ritual celebrating the life that is no longer, in the same way church made me eat a cracker and drink cranberry juice every sunday morning?

cannibalism is only illegal because we as humans personalized, humanize, and elevate, ourselves and those closest to us.

this excludes the understanding of sciences and that eating a human body can lead to disease, but i'd dare to say that we simply haven't experimented with human meat based meals to have made it edible and safe like we have with the corpses of cows and chickens and pigs and fish.

cannibalism is complex and fascinating and there's a lot to it, but "morally incorrect" is only subjective based on what you believe "humans" to be.

#shitalks #sorry i yapped about cannibalism #death rituals and death is a Special Interest in a way #finger guns in mortician #anyways i'll stop yapping now

40K notes · View notes

hellfiremunsonn · 1 day ago

Text

Summer Daze. Eddie Munson x Reader

Summer Daze.

I DO NOT ALLOW MY WRITING TO BE REPUBLISHED ANYWHERE OTHER THAN MY OWN BLOG WITHOUT MY CONSENT

Summary: A sweet moment with your sweet boy

18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

Warnings: none? fluffy fluff fluff (IF THERES ANYTHING I MISSED LET ME KNOW)

Word count: 808

You don't know when you realized this, but somehow on a random Tuesday afternoon you realized that your relationship with Eddie Munson, was the most real and perfect relationship you had ever been in.

He wasn't a perfect partner by any means, but neither were you. He has his quirks that drive you up the wall, and god knows you could piss him off in a millisecond, but at the end it never made you two love each other any less, ending each day with a kiss you goodnight and an 'I love you'

It was apart of Eddie to love so fully, rooted so deep in him to care and love, and to show his people constantly how much they meant to him. Sure he was still rough around the edges, and sarcastic as hell, but one thing about Eddie is that every aspect of him is passionate.

So on that hot afternoon, when you're curled up on the couch in his trailer, nose deep in a book, you didn't expect a simple gesture to have you bursting into tears.

You had been staying at Eddies for the past week or so; Wayne was off on some work trip for the whole week, leaving the place to Eddie and you to play house, and do all those silly little domesticated things together, that the two of you didn't realize how badly you craved it.

Your calves are sticky and sweaty from where they're sprawled across eddies thighs. He's got a pair of old gym shorts low on his hips, and his chest is bare, and you can't help peak over the top of your book every now and then to admire the sight of your flushed boyfriend.

You keep asking Eddie if your legs on his are bothering him, offering to move them but he insists that you keep them there, gripping them tightly when you try to move them away, so you keep them there. Letting him trail his fingers up and down the lengths of them while he watches the tv with heavy lidded eyes. That lethargic feeling that only comes from the end of a hot summers day; when a nap is just around the corner, and the thought of an oscillating fan rippling its breeze over you and the thin sheet you'll wrap yourself in later sounds better than anything else you could think of.

Eddie groans before stretching his arms up over his head. You loll your head to the side to stare at him fondly.

"I'll be back" he says patting your legs lightly before moving them off of his lap and standing up.

You continue reading your book, listening to Eddie rummage around the small trailer doing whatever it was he was doing.

A few minutes later he returns to you, handing you a small bowl of fruit cut up with a fork. He hands it to you before sitting back down, grabbing your legs and putting them back across his lap while he sips a beer thats in his other hand.

You hold the bowl in your hand awkwardly, ready to pass it back to him, thinking he handed it to you to hold while he sat down, but he just raises an eyebrow at you. "What?" He says.

"Did you want this back?" You ask.

"No? It's for you babe" he said like it was the most obvious thing.

"What?" You're absolutely shocked.

"It's yours?" He says with a raised brow. "It's like three o'clock and you haven't eaten anything since breakfast, so" He shrugs, still looking at you with a confused expression. "Did... you not want it?"

You continue to look at him shocked. He just, brought you a snack? without you even asking for it, or even muttering a word about being hungry. He just... did it.

"You... Made me a snack?" You ask quietly, tears beginning to well up in your eyes, and the back of your throat burns as you attempt to keep your emotions at bay.

"Yeah?" he says looking over at you, still confused. His face softens when he sees the tears in your eyes. "Baby are you crying?" He asks softly, setting his beer down on the table.

"No" you lie, chucking your book down onto the coffee table to wipe at the tears that escape. "S'just really nice of you" You mumble, sticking your bottom lip out in a pout while you look over at him. So in love, and definitely embarrassed that it brought you to tears.

"Well you deserve nice" He says firmly, leaning over to press a quick kiss to your lips before stealing a strawberry slice out of your bowl and popping it into his mouth, he reaches down to grab another and brings it up to your lips. You open your mouth and let him feed you, grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to it.

#hellfiremunsonn #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #Eddie Munson fluff #Stranger Things fluff #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you

67 notes · View notes

cinnamonbear22 · 1 day ago

Text

Baby (choi su-bong x reader)

Chapter one

PLEASE READ⇊⇊⇊

I just wanted to explain a little and write some disclaimers! This story is set way before squid game happens. reader and other characters are of age. I am adding my own tweaks to his character which may not be cannon accurate. This story contains heavy topics, i am not responsible for the media you consume. It contains abuse, drugs, violence, sexual content, fem reader. I appreciate all types of feedback :) I am planning on makin this a series, I already have multiple chapters written !!

Tw- drugs, abuse, fem!reader

The cool wind hastily nipped at (Y/n)s cheeks as she walked against the breeze, shivers being sent up at down her entire body despite being warmly dressed. The large hand-me-down jeans scraped against the damp concrete as her black hood was drawn over her cold head. Hair was constantly blowing out of place but her hands were to busy being jammed in the pockets of her brothers old tan canvas jacket that was visibly worn-out, gripping the wad of cash anxiously as while striding down the street.

She kept her head down in effort of keeping her cheeks warm while looking up occasionally to see how much farther she have to go. Not many people were out considering it was a Tuesday night and most people had to work early in the morning, as well as students having school. The streets were mostly empty besides the occasional drunk man stumbling around and the drug addicts pestering on the side of the road asking for money.

It wasn't the best part of town for a young woman to be walking through this late at night but she didn't have a choice. When her brother needs her, he needs her. The consequences were never worth the pain and time so if she had to go at a ridiculous hour at night she did.

The familiar landmark of a green, rusted, bronze dog statue appeared in her view which was her remembrance point that it was the first alleyway directly after the piece they would meet. She had been in the same alleyway a countless amount of times that it didn't even bother her much anymore walking straight down into it. Well, she was afraid of it, but she had learned to tolerate it.

The wind now was blocked by the two buildings that left limited space on either side of her. She could finally comfortably open her eyes and pick her head in surveillance of the familiar place. The setting never, ever changes. The bricks on both walls of the buildings are graffitied beyond belief. Although it was barely visible in the night due to the dim flashing lights that hung onto the side of the building. It was littered with leaves, overgrown weeds peaking through the cracked concrete, broken glass and aluminum cans. Occasionally a load of dirty needles would appear from time to time.

She wasn't the type of person to get bothered by absolutely anything but the amount of suffocation that she felt every time she entered this alleyway is overwhelming. The constant feeling of a looming threat gnawed at her nerves that heightened her awareness of her surroundings. She was a smart girl, she knew how to protect herself and is quite frankly very good at carrying herself, but she didn’t have a choice. She has been trapped into her brothers business as a drug-courier and money collector since the young age of eight-years-old. No one would expect an innocent little girl committing degenerate crimes, right?

He was one of the most popular drug lord in all of Korea that had multiple high connections to powerful people. Police have been trying to investigate for over a decade, but the execution of the business was extremely well thought out so there was no room for error. For obvious reasons she was never allowed to use her name in public places, resulting in the lazily thought-out nickname 'Baby' since she had been the youngest in the business. She hadn't heard anyone say her real name in years. She was never allowed to go to public school, but her brother made sure to educate her all throughout her adolescence. Before she had gotten her own place, she was never allowed out of her brothers home. She was constantly monitored. She wasn’t allowed to make cell phone calls, she was only allowed to answer. Her phone got went through every single night despite being a crappy flip phone that barely functioned.

And yet, the most familiar part of this entire alleyway was leaned up against the moist brick walls with a cherried cigarette between his snide lips. "Baby," Su-bongs blowen out eyes darted quickly to her lifeless pupils. Her emotionless face stared up at him quietly as his slender fingers pulled the cigarette out of his mouth. "You're late." his overly expressing eyebrows raised in a mocking fashion as he looked at the girl.

She stayed silent for a moment while instantly remembering the countless number of times he has left her waiting in this alleyway for several, several hours. "Barely." She mumbled quietly keeping her eyes on his that would twitch from time to time. He would always excuse his twitching from a “muscle spasm condition” but she knew better. She had been around substance abuse her entire life. "Three minutes behind." She knew she didn't have to defend herself to him but she wasn't afraid to prove a point.

"You're never late, I thought something happened to you," he clasped his hands over his chest with mumbled words since he was still supporting the cigarette in his lips. The fake concern didn't amuse her at all, her stone-cold face remained emotionless as he felt like she was piercing an icy spear through his chest and into his soul with her tired eyes. "So, big brother send you out here this late? Hm?" He slowly began to push himself off the wall, fixing his slouched shoulders and cracking his neck to fix his tall, slender posture, but (y/n) didn't budge. She had never really felt threatened by him knowing that he was a little afraid of her brother and if anything had happened to his most loyal employee, he would not be happy.

She blankly stared at him in response to the question that he already knew the answer to. He chuckled deeply at his own joke and slowly began to move a bit closer to her. Her eyes narrowed on him, analyzing every movement so she could anticipate what his next move was. She knew how impulsive he was with his thoughts and how he is possibly insane even though they both never had personal problems with each other. But one wrong move at the wrong time, that could all change.

She averted her gaze to her dirty white sneakers as he inched closer to her in the claustrophobic alley leaving her nowhere to create a safe distance. He strived off of the small movements that she would rarely express, her drained eyes darting to the ground as he approached her almost set him on fire. The way her breathing visibly hitched in the freezing air as he bent his body down eyelevel with her made him smirk. "When will you stop being a puppet?" He whispered softly through his clenched teeth and sleazily reached behind her head and yanked her thick black hood off that offered limited protection from the cold. Thick cigeratte smoke left his lips and straight into her face which only irritated her. She could never recall a moment that his joking gestures amused her, yet he continues to display them after the last six years of knowing each other.

Her eyes snapped back up at his with strong pensiveness once the cold air pricked at her ears and neck, her fighting instincts were quickly alerted with how close he was getting to her which resulted in her quickly pulling her hands out of her pockets and shoving him off. "Stop being a douche." Her eyebrows furrowed together out of anger as he barely felt the force of her push. His feet shuffled back against the broken glass and concrete as he chuckled to himself with slight adoration for the small angry expression on her face. "Come on," she was practically shooting daggers through his head as she stared hard at him. "It's late and cold. I want to go," Her tone was sharp and demanding yet she was so softly spoken that the rustling of the wind was louder than her. Her stray hairs blew messily in the breeze before she stuffed her hands back in her pocket gripping the wad of cash with frustration.

"Still don't have a car?" He expressively tilted his head to the side like a confused dog as he smashed his cigarette against the brick. She gracefully shook her head no and pressed her lips together impatiently. "You had to walk?" His upper lip twitched then he tilted his head to the other side. His twitching was normal to (y/n) at this point that she hardly noticed it at this point. "Let me give you a ride back to your brothers" he nodded his head towards the left of him indicating his car was parked somewhere around the alley.

"Are you fucking nuts?" Her harsh tone surprised him a bit as he threw his hands up in the air for quick defense. He knew better than that and she knows he does. All of the stupid questions he asks her are all things he already knows, but it's in his nature to pester her. "Stop asking questions you know the answer to."

"Okay, okay," he curled his lip, shaking his head slightly. "I was just trying to nice. I just want you to get home safe, you're very important to me." Although his tone was a bit sarcastic he genuinely did care for her. After doing business with her for years, he's grown very fond of their small relationship that's been built from the brief interactions.

"Cut the shit," she did not reciprocate his friendly playfulness, she never did. There was never a reason for her to be friendly, or playful. That was what her brother drilled into her head anyway.

"You know, I've known you for a very long time," He started one of his spiels that only made her roll her eyes. Even in the bad lighting he could still see the flash of whites of her eyes as she huffed. "And you've never been pleasant to me once."

"Business isn't supposed to be pleasant." She quickly retorted and silently prayed that this interaction would speed up but commerce with him always took the longest.

"You wouldn't have to even do this if you weren't so easily pushed around." His blown-out pupils mocked her as she swallowed hard but she didnt let his words even get to her. She knew she was a pushover; she didn't need to hear it from someone else.

"Just give me the bag." She snapped; her volume was a little louder than usual which made his brows shoot up with surprise.

"Alright," he dropped his shoulders in a defeated manner, turning on his heels slowly as he started walking towards the black backpack that was slouched against the wall. (Y/n) looked side to side checking her surroundings before pulling out the roll of bills in her clutched palm as she watched his every move. He never screwed her over once during their business, but she still would stay on high alert when the money and products were out. His eyes immediately darted to the fistful of cash which he grinned deviously.

They swapped items without any word. (Y/n) quickly unzipped the bag and shuffled around the items making sure everything was present. He had held the money tight in his hands as he began flipping through the several large bills. His head was already racing with the freedom and privilege this money provide even if it was for a temporary amount of time. She slung the bag over her shoulder weaving her arms through the straps and she pulled her hood back over her head. She gave him a brief nod instead of properly saying goodbye and without his response she was already walking in the opposite direction.

"Jesus Christ..." she whispered to herself quietly while keeping her head down on the gravel being kicked up under her feet. She reached one of her hands up to her chest pocket, removing the crumbled carton of slim menthol cigarettes from her jacket. She brought the box up to her lips, grabbing a singular cigarette with her mouth before shoving the box back. Then subconsciously she moved her hand down to her front right pocket of her pants where she had always kept her lighter.

Major disappointment filled her body as two of her fingers poked directly through the fresh hole that was ripped into her jeans. She had completely forgot that she got caught on a jagged fence during the walk, but she didn't know she lost her lighter. "Goddamnit..." she groaned, patting herself down like an officer would in a manner while praying that she maybe just misplaced it.

She didn't need it, she thought to herself as the unlit cigarette still lingered between her cracked lips. But the temporary relief that she would feel was needed.

she hesitantly looked over her shoulder to see if Subong was still around, and luckily, he hadn't gone too far. He had his back to her as he walked away with his head hung low and his arms were sporadically dancing to an imaginary beat that was playing through his head. She was scolding herself heavily for what she was about to do, she knew that he would get a kick out of her and drag their interaction out even longer than intended. But it was a long walk home. "Subong!" Her loud voice echoed against the brick walls and pinged angelically in his cold ears. He spun around so quickly that he had almost stumbled over his own feet as (Y/n) was already walking towards him.

He felt his ears burn against the cold air while his stomach was slowly dropping to feet. "Everything is in the bag!" He quickly defended himself since he had already jumped to the conclusion of why she's walking back to him. His hands slightly trembled at the strange anxious feelings running through him that was only enhanced from being intoxicated.

"I know," she murmured cooly as she looked up at him with the cigarette moving between her lips. "Can I borrow a light, please?" her expressionless eyes filled him right up before he exhaled gently not even realizing he was holding his breath. He began to laugh softly at himself; his tense posture quickly became lax.

"Hm," he hummed like he was truly pondering her simple question while tapping his chin and looking up at the dark cloudy sky. His black pupils then narrowed down at the shorter girl in front of him as his rough hands reached into his back pocket, pulling out a black lighter that was engulfed in a chrome case with skulls and crosses engraved in the metal. "How bad do you really need it?" His wiggling eyebrows playfully ridiculed her before she gently sighed. Of course, everything had to be a game to him. But she wasn't the person to play those games, she deals with enough bullshit that she did need more unnecessary convivences.

"Not enough." She pursed her lips in a bothered manner and turned her back to him to restart her journey back to her brother's home. His smile quickly dropped from his face as she started walking away and he scolded himself for a second. He knew she hated his jokes, his teasing, his demeanor, their interactions. He knew she hated him, but he still felt oddly enchanted by her and screwing up a moment like this is only adding more tension.

"Fine, fine" He swiftly placed his hand on her shoulder before she got too far out of reach. She paused under his touch, but he quickly retracted his hand off her knowing that could result regrettably. She spun back around slowly with the cigarette still loosely hanging from her plush lips, her tedious eyes lifted up to his that gazed at him with the slightest look of vulnerability. A look he's never seen. His lip quivered for a moment as he flicked his lighter with his thumb holding the small flame down to her mouth as she inhaled harmoniously. The small light illuminated her face for a moment as he watched her with reverence. He took notice of her sad, sunken eyes that were complimented with scarlet eyebags and the small scar that was engraved above her eyebrow. Her lips that wrapped around the cigarette were still an alluring shade of pink despite being cracked and dry, as well as a few small bruises down her neck that had the shape of fingerprints. The flame extinguished from the small devices as she exhaled with shut eyes to peacefully enjoy the buzz of the first hit. "What do you say?" He grinned down at her with slight amusement at her relief.

"Thank you." She opened her eyes and looked at him softly which he was shocked he had gotten a positive response of gratitude.

"Here," He reached his hand out that held the decorated lighter between his slender fingers to her. "Take it, for the way back." She looked at the lighter hesitantly while her eyes darted up from him, to the lighter, and the back to him. "Go ahead, here." He shoved the lighter closer to her as she glared up at him. She took her hand out of her pocket and grabbed it from him, her freezing fingertips gently grazed against his own before she slid the lighter in her coat pocket.

"What's the catch?" She felt overly skeptical, squeezing the metal in her pockets harshly.

"There isn't one." He confusedly tilted his head at the question as he took notice of how quick her soft energy changed into guarding.

"Then why did you give this to me? What do I need to do in return?" Her jaw clenched tightly as she slowly began stepping back away from him with flickering eyes.

"Nothing?" He cocked a brow at her hastiness then furrowing them together confusedly. "It's a gift, from me to you." He held his hands up to show her he physically was harmless. "Have you ever received a gift before?" He harshly spat since he was taking great offense to this interaction. He doesn't understand why she is so defensive now and why she thinks he'd hurt her when he's never done anything to hurt her.

(Y/n) swallowed harshly, her throat was beginning to feel slightly dry from embarrassment. She never was given something without an expectation for something in return, ever. "Goodnight." She quickly turned around and walked fast out the alley as Subong stood there in a shocked manner, watching her disappear around the corner.

He was drawn to her. It was the consistency of her pushing him away that attracted him. She was a complete mystery to him, and he wanted nothing more than to peer into her life.

…

Chapter two

52 notes · View notes

cherryblossomcowgirl · 2 days ago

Text

The Bodyguard part 3

WC: 1.4k

Warnings: Age gap; mentions of smut; light smut; FLUFF; ANGST; unrequited love

TAGS: @skyehuntress

I stand there frozen, shocked by the words that just came out of Jake’s mouth. Part of me wonders if he is messing with me, but he looks serious as a heart attack. I muster up all of my courage, “So take me.” Jake pauses. One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. He murmurs, “Fuck it.” His lips crash into mine. One hand is on my lower back, while the other is tangled in my hair. My body feels like fireworks are going off inside of it. Warmth spreads from my head to my toes. The kiss is intoxicating. All consuming. His hand moves down, grabbing my ass and I moan, “Jake.” He freezes and pulls back, “You said my name.” A blush spreads across my cheeks, “I’m sorry…” I am cut off by his lips meeting mine. He bites my lower lip and I whisper his name again. Something inside of him lights up. He picks me up by my thighs and I wrap my legs around his waist. My hands explore him, moving from his chiseled abs to his muscular arms. In a moment of boldness, my hand travels down to his belt. Jake puts his hand on mine, “Sweetheart, you’re killing me.” I pout, “I want you.” He smirks, “Not like this, okay?” I run my hand over his chest, “Please?” Jake sighs, “One step at a time. Come here.” He pulls me back in. His lips are soft and taste like the coffee he was drinking when I walked in. My phone ringing brings me back down to Earth. Jake picks it up off the desk, chuckling when he sees who it is. I hide my face in my hands, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He holds back his laugh as I answer. “Hey Glen! … I am sorry, something came up. … Oh, he did? …. Oh wow. … yeah, uh, my dress is, uh, navy blue. I can send a photo. … Okay, well I will see you then! … Oh, yeah, just some security things with Mr. Seresin. … You too, bye.” Jake’s eyes search mine as my phone rings again, this time it is my Father. “Hi! … Yes sir. … Mhmm. … I’ll see you then. … Love you too.” I untangle myself from Jake and sigh. Worry spreads across his face, “What’s wrong?” My eyes water, “The Presidential ball is in two days and my Father invited Glen to be my date.”

Jake’s body stiffens and he nods, “Okay Ms. Y/l/n. I’ll finish writing up the plans for the trip to DC and I will have them for you in the morning.” My brow furrows, “So that’s it?” His jaw tightens, “I shouldn’t have crossed that line. I apologize.” A tear rolls down my cheek, “Goodnight, Mr. Seresin.”

*2 days later*

The ride to D.C. is silent. All I can think about is Jake’s mouth and hands being on me. There’s a tightness in my chest. Jake clears his throat, “10 minutes out, Ms. Y/l/n. The stylists are set up and ready for you when we arrive.” I stare out the window, fighting the tears back. When we pull up to the White House, I rush to my room. My best friend is standing there, looking through the rack of dresses. I scream, “Pen?!” She smiles, “Couldn’t miss the ball, even though the flight from London felt like eternity.” I wrap her in a hug. Jake wheels in my bags and she glances over, “Who is that?” “Bodyguard.” Penelope giggles, “He could guard me anytime. De-lic-ious.” I roll my eyes and Jake walks over, checking his watch, “You have 2 hours. Your Father has asked you and Glen to walk in the processional.” He does a horrible job of hiding his distaste for Glen when saying his name. My heart is hopeful, praying it was jealousy and he would admit last night wasn’t a mistake. I keep my face neutral, “Thank you, Mr. Seresin. I will let you know when I am ready.” He nods and heads into the hallway. Pen leans over and whispers, “Something must’ve happened because that tension is otherworldly.” I sigh, “You have no idea, Pen.”

After being poked and prodded by 4 stylists, I am finally ready. Pen kisses my cheek, “You’re stunning. See you down there?” I nod, “Love you. Thank you for coming.” She smiles, heading out the door. I take a moment in the quiet of my room. There’s a knock, “Ms. Y/l/n? Are you ready?” “I have 5 more minutes!” Jake walks in, “Are you okay?” My face is buried in my hands, “Don’t ask me that like you care, Mr. Seresin. I would just like 4 more minutes of peace before I am surrounded by cameras and people.” He clears his throat, “I do care, Ms. Y/l/n.” I laugh, “Mr. Seresin, you made your feelings very clear the other night.” I stand up, straightening out my dress. Jake’s gaze rakes over me. “We should talk about that.” The heat returns to my body and I take a deep breath. A staffer knocks on my door, “Mr. Powell is here, ma’am.” I push down whatever it is I am feeling for Jake and I walk past him, “Excuse me, my date is here.”

The night is filled with dancing and drinking and political schmoozing. Glen is wearing a tuxedo and he looks very handsome, but I keep glancing over at Jake. Glen pulls me out for a dance, smiling as the strings play. “Are you having fun, darling?” I smile, “Yes! And I was not expecting Pen to be here.” “She seems like a very good friend.” “She is. What do you think of all of this?” He looks around the room and leans in, “It’s a lot, but you do such a great job with all of this. And I know I’ve already said it a million times, but you look beautiful.” His hand moves down my back just a touch and I look over at Jake, he isn’t happy. The fluttering feeling in my stomach isn’t from Glen, it’s from Jake’s jealous glare. The song ends and we head back to our table. Pen is running around; a single, flirty girl in a sea of eligible bachelors. The rest of the night is a blur. Speeches. Toasts. More dancing. More political questions. I hit my limit, turning to Jake for a way out. He starts to walk over, but Glen beats him. “You okay, darling?” I nod, “Yeah, I think I am ready to call it a night.” He leans in and kisses my cheek, “Okay, darling. Get some rest. See you soon.” Jake clears his throat, “Ms. Y/l/n, if you’d follow me.” I loop my arm in his, waving goodbye as I leave the ballroom. We make it to my room and Jake turns to leave. I grab his arm, “Wait! I need help with my dress. It’s a corset.” He sighs, following me inside. Jake starts to undo my corset, careful to not touch me. “Did you have fun tonight?” I shrug, “Maybe.” His voice lowers, “His hands were all over you.” The corset falls, leaving me in my slip. I turn to look at Jake’s eyes, “And?” His green eyes darken, “I wanted to rip his head off.” I giggle and he raises an eyebrow, “What’s so funny?” I start taking Bobby pins out of my hair, “You. One second you want me and then the next I am a mistake.” He shakes his head, “I never said that.” “You didn’t have to.” His eyes wander down my body, barely covered by the delicate silk of the slip. He runs his hand along my arm, leaving goosebumps in his trail. I try to control my breathing, but I can’t. I want him. I need him. He leans in, “I warned you. I won’t be able to let you go.” Our lips are almost touching when I whisper, “Jake, please.”

Jake groans as he closes the space between us. His kiss is hungry. He runs his rough hands over the silk. I melt into his touch. I kiss down his neck and he moans, “What were you thinking when you were with him?” I look at Jake, tracing his jawline, “I was thinking about your hands on me. Your lips on mine.” He kisses my neck, “Good girl.”

#glen powell x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #hangman fic #top gun

39 notes · View notes

differentalpacafestival · 20 hours ago

Text

You know, something I just realized is actually kinda funny.

The sole reason I even know what transgenderism is, is simply because I started seeing transphobia.

"This is so wrong, this is disgusting" etc made me wonder why they thought it was so wrong, so I pursued knowledge.

RuPaul's Drag Race was one of the first queer and LGBTQIA+ friendly media I ever consumed. I was not, and still am not the biggest fan of the drama because I just simply don't like drama, but I saw so many contestants coming out during that show. Grown "men" crying as they admit to feeling ostracized from their childhood communities, their family and friends, saying they've come to realize they're not actually a man, but a woman. I watched a handful of them becoming so vulnerable and stripping (emotionally) completely in front of someone they adored, but also a huge camera crew, and thus essentially the entire world. I thought "How is this wrong? What's so disgusting about this?"

I was 10 when I sat in the school bus after school and talked with some younger kids I was friends with about transgenderism. I don't remember the conversation, obviously, this is like 13 years ago, but I remember telling them it was actually possible for a boy to get a surgery to remove his penis. I remember feeling proud to be the one telling them this, but also appalled that their natural reactions were so strong, because mine never was, and both my parents and my older brother were vehemently against self expression like that.

When I was like 13, I identified as bisexual. I became obsessed with the flag's colours and tried to coordinate my outfits to have a similar vibe.

When I was 14, someone in my class told us after a visiting performance group that the lead singer *wanted* to be confusing, gender-wise. Someone had tried to make fun of the lead singer after their performance, and were quickly shut down when no one followed. My friend explained what being non-binary meant, and I felt so outed, but in a good way. My friend said the singer's long, messy hair was purposeful, that their big clothes were purposeful, and that they never introduced themselves by anything other than name, nor talked about it because they didn't need to; their self expression said everything for them. I remember going to the bathroom that same day and looking at my own long [straightened] hair and baggy clothes and wondered for the first time if I was on the same wavelength, just not the same wave.

When I was 16 I met my first ever trans friend. I quickly developed a crush on him, which, in hindsight wasn't actually a crush, but admiration, and I wanted to protect him at all costs. Whenever our elder teacher misgendered him or used his dead name, I, fairly aggressively, corrected her in front of the entire class to the point that I was yelled at for interrupting and that "she" [referring to my GUY friend] knows it's not on purpose. He never told me to stop, so I never did. We also didn't have that teacher for many classes, and I noticed she started to avoid using pronouns or even his name because I didn't back down.

That same year I found out that a friend I had, but had lost contact with, had also come out. She had socially changed her name when she started a new school, and her appearance had drastically changed from when we went to the same school just a year or so prior. I messaged her, asking if it was true and told her I was proud of her for being herself and that I was happy she had found who she truly was. The next time we met, I slipped with her pronouns, but that was also the only time I ever did. I apologized and we continued our lives as friends again. The next year, after I, too, had started my own self discovery journey, she dead named me, and I dropped her instantly. As a trans person, how do you have the guts to insult someone the same way you have been, even if they're not actively trans? (at the time, I only thought I was gay) Another in the same friend group followed suit after berating her, and after nearly 20 years of acquaintance, she dropped her as well. Apparently, they were never actually friends, they just happened to be the only two who were left out and decided to stick together. Had me and my two childhood friends from a different school not entered the picture, they wouldn't have maintained contact after their last year at the same school. I've also minimized contact with her since, after finding out she blames the entire trans community for everything that's wrong in the world after I came out as enby to her. She has always been protective of me, and has, on numerous occasions said she admires me, but when I learned that she wasn't just not a big fan of the, prior, only trans person in our group, but actually had fundamental issues with her as a trans person, my view of her changed. We had a short discussion about being trans and what it meant, and she argued with the same point you usually hear, like "You can never change your biological sex" and how we're just mentally unstable [which really felt like a personal attack because she knows I am].

About a year after I came out to my friends as enby, I came out to my mom after we had been drinking. I remember my thoughts being so loud when she started her usual transphobic tirade, and just as I was about to tell her, my nose started bleeding. I cleaned myself up and started by saying I knew why that happened, and came out to her on the spot. She stammered when she realized every bad thing and every criticism she has ever slung at the trans community, were also indirectly thrown at me. We've tried talking about it since, but she stands firm on non-binary not being real and how it doesn't matter if one is trans during life because "iN onE ThOusAnD yEaRs-"

My point is that in my peers' attempt at keeping everything strictly conservative, they helped me figure out that I'm a liberal.

My transphobic family's comments made me pursue my own conclusions because they were too emotional about it and never talked about trans people as other civils.

And I find that kinda funny.

#lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq community #lgbtq+#lgbtqia+#queer #transgender #trans #nonbinary #enby #agender #genderqueer #genderfluid #gender nonconforming

39 notes · View notes

heliosunny · 1 day ago

Note

can you do a yandere black swan plant please?

MYSTERY PLANT

Yandere!Black Swan x Reader

The plant appeared overnight. It hadn’t been there yesterday, you were sure of it. Your windowsill, once home to nothing but dust and forgotten trinkets, now cradled a strange, blackened vine curling elegantly around an obsidian-colored flowerpot. Its leaves shimmered with an eerie iridescence, deep purples and blues shifting under the light. The petals unfurled like delicate, violet feathers, their edges lined with gold.

Despite its unnatural beauty, the plant exuded something… hungry.

You should’ve tossed it out. But when you reached for it, the stem quivered, leaning toward your touch.

"How warm."

You yanked your hand back. The voice had been real. Intimate.

That night, your dreams were heavy, a figure called themself Black Swan. When you woke, she was there, draped in flowing violet and black, her skin kissed by moonlight, long silver-lavender hair cascading around her like silk. A deep hood framed her face, golden ornaments glinting against the twilight strands. Her golden eyes gleamed with an unsettling fondness as she reached for you, her gloved fingers brushing your cheek with a lover’s reverence.

The plant, once rooted in the pot, had vanished.

For a moment, all you could do was stare.

Black Swan looked ethereal in the dim light, her presence weightless yet all-consuming, like a wraith that had slipped through the cracks of your reality.

"You were expecting me, weren’t you?"

You weren’t. And yet… hadn’t you dreamed of her? Or something like her? The thought was hazy, slipping through your grasp like silk in water. You frowned, grasping at the fleeting memory, only for it to dissolve into nothing.

"It’s alright," she soothed, stepping closer. "You don’t have to think too hard. I am here now, and that is all that matters."

Her fingers reached for yours, and before you could flinch away, she grasped your hand gently. But even that touch sent a wave of exhaustion crashing over her. A delicate tremor ran through her frame, her golden eyes flickering like candlelight.

“Are you… alright?” The question came out unbidden. You barely knew her, and yet concern pooled in your chest at how fragile she suddenly seemed.

She swayed, barely standing. You caught her on instinct, her body pressing lightly against yours. She was soft. Lighter than you expected.

"It’s nothing… just… a little tired."

Without thinking, you guided her to sit, your hands instinctively steadying her. Black Swan blinked up at you, eyes widening slightly before lowering into a half-lidded, dreamy expression. As if she were pleased. Like a pet who had finally nestled into its rightful place beside its owner.

"You’re so kind"

Black Swan stayed close to you after that day.

You weren’t sure when it became normal—how she moved so seamlessly into your life.

You never questioned it.

Maybe you should have.

The town square bustled with life that afternoon, laughter spilling from the cafes. You and Black Swan sat at an outdoor table, the breeze toying with her hair. She had barely touched the tea in front of her, but her eyes remained half-lidded, watching the crowd with the patience of a weaver preparing a delicate thread.

A stranger approached, someone you vaguely recognized—a merchant who had a reputation for being pushy, prying too much into other people’s business. He had always given you an uneasy feeling, though you’d never had a reason to avoid him outright.

Until now.

"Ah, Y/N!" His voice was lighthearted but too eager, his beady eyes flickering toward Black Swan with open curiosity. "You’ve been hard to find lately. And who’s this? A friend?"

Black Swan smiled.

"I don’t believe we’ve met" she said smoothly, tilting her head slightly.

The merchant chuckled, rubbing his hands together. "Ah, well, I like to know all the interesting people around here." His gaze flickered to you. "And I have to admit, Y/N, it’s strange. You disappeared for a while, and now you’re back with…" He gestured vaguely. "Her. Just seems unusual, is all."

You frowned. Was it? You couldn’t remember being gone. Sure, things had been strange lately, but—

Your thoughts blurred.

You blinked, suddenly feeling… off.

Black Swan’s fingers brushed against the back of your hand.

And then, she stood.

"Excuse me for a moment" she murmured, stepping past the merchant and disappearing into the crowd.

The man watched her go, a deep crease settling between his brows. "Strange woman, that one. You sure she’s not—"

Whatever he was going to say never came. His face slackened, his eyes going hazy as though something unseen had wound its way into his mind. He blinked once, twice, then shook his head.

“…What were we talking about?”

"You… just asked about Black Swan?"

He frowned, rubbing his temples. "Black Swan? Who—?"

When she returned, she looked the same as always—calm. But as soon as she sat down, her shoulders slumped slightly, a quiet fatigue settling into her frame. She barely managed to lift her teacup before setting it back down with a soft sigh.

You reached out instinctively, pressing a hand to hers. "You shouldn’t push yourself."

"You always worry so much."

And yet, she didn’t refuse when you helped her up, leading her back to the quiet comfort of your home.

—

That night, exhaustion clung to you heavier than usual. It wasn’t anything noticeable at first—just a slight weariness, the kind that settled after a long day.

Black Swan sat beside you, her fingers threading through your hair in slow, deliberate motions. "You should rest"

You didn’t protest.

You barely noticed the way your dreams blurred—how the memories of the day slipped, tangled, and twisted under the weight of her hands.

And in the darkness, Black Swan smiled.

The second time it happened, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that something was… wrong.

It started with a person—a childhood friend, someone you hadn’t seen in a while but had once been close with. They had always been warm, always quick to smile and laugh. And yet, when they spotted you in the marketplace, their expression had wavered between familiarity and something more hesitant.

"Y/N?" They stepped closer, curiosity and nostalgia laced in their tone. "It’s been ages… You look well."

Black Swan was beside you, as always, her presence as delicate as a wisp of mist. She didn’t speak, didn’t move, but you could feel her attention sharpening.

Your friend smiled, "Do you have time to catch up? There’s a café just around the corner. It’ll be just like old times."

For a moment, you considered it. Something in your chest warmed at the thought. But before you could answer, a gloved hand curled around your wrist.

Black Swan spoke before you could. "How precious" she murmured, voice smooth like silk. "Old bonds are such fragile things… Tell me, do you think they last forever?"

Your friend blinked, startled. "I—"

She stepped forward, her golden eyes locking onto theirs, and suddenly… everything changed.

Your friend’s body tensed, the color drained from their face. Their hands twitched once before falling limp at their sides, their gaze distant—empty.

"Hey, are you—?"

Then, Black Swan swayed. Her entire frame wavered, her grip on your wrist loosening as her knees buckled beneath her. You barely caught her in time, her weight pressing against you as her breaths came in short, uneven gasps.

"Black Swan!" Panic surged through you as you steadied her. She was cold—colder than usual. "You alright?"

She exhaled shakily, her head lolling slightly against your shoulder. "It’s… fine" she whispered.

You barely noticed your friend stumbling away, their steps unsteady, confusion shadowing their face. They murmured something under their breath—something about forgetting why they had come in the first place before vanishing into the crowd.

The leaves of the nearby plants rustled—no wind, no breeze, and yet they moved. Slowly, with eerie precision, the color bled from them, vibrant greens dulling into lifeless gray. Stems shriveled, petals curled inward and blackened, roots cracked beneath unseen force. Within moments, the once-thriving plants were nothing but withered husks.

"That’s… strange," you murmured. "Why—"

Black Swan, now steadier, rested her head against your shoulder, her golden eyes lidded in serene satisfaction. She looked content. Like everything had gone exactly as she wanted.

"It’s nothing to worry about. Come… Let’s go home."

And for some reason, despite the eerie scene before you, despite the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right, you didn’t question it.

Your home was quiet, as always, bathed in the soft glow of the lamps. Black Swan moved through the space with effortless grace, her steps featherlight, her presence an unshakable constant. She had always been here, hadn’t she?

The thought drifted through your mind, slow and uncertain, but it slipped away just as easily. Of course, she had. Who else had been by your side all this time? Who else had taken care of you, watched over you, understood you?

You sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing at your temples, an odd fatigue pulling at your mind. "I feel… off" you muttered.

Black Swan hummed softly, standing behind you. Her fingers traced the curve of your shoulder, her touch barely there. "It’s just exhaustion," she whispered. "You’ve been feeling so tired lately… You should rest."

Her words settled over you like a warm haze. She moved closer, wrapping her arms around you in a loose embrace, her hair cascading over your shoulder. "I’m here," she murmured against your ear. "I’ve always been here. The one closest to you. The only one who understands you."

A flicker of doubt surfaced. There had been… someone else, hadn’t there? A childhood friend? Faint memories pressed against your mind, blurred and distorted. But the more you tried to grasp them, the more they unraveled, dissolving into whispers.

"No one else matters"

She had been with you forever, hadn’t she? Always watching over you. Always protecting you. Always loving you.

A soft sigh left your lips as exhaustion weighed you down. Your body grew lax in her arms, your mind slipping into quiet, dreamlike compliance. You barely felt her shift, barely noticed the way her fingers ghosted along your temples, weaving unseen threads of memory, plucking away the ones that didn’t belong.

She kissed the crown of your head.

"Sleep well, my dear"

And as the last remnants of your past unraveled beneath her touch, Black Swan smiled.

Tomorrow, when you woke, she would be the only one who remained in your world.

Just as it should be.

#yandere x reader #yandere #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #black swan #black swan hsr #black swan x reader #heliosmysplant

42 notes · View notes

hcneymooners · 2 days ago

Text

i need to dump this somewhere so here are some things i keep thinking of that have sent my creative current flowing through me recently:

is this what you felt like?, car crash, please let me in, someday — these are tags from a work i have bookmarked on ao3. it's one of my favorites and in it one of the characters gets into a car crash while on the phone with the person they love. i've also been fixating on car crashes because of this fragrantica review as of late and i think i need to write about it but i don't know how yet.

its ok, not a love — another fragrantica review.

"all this talk of apocalypse makes me want to get married" — the more i write this out the more i realize i'm currently drawn to the idea of love in the time of disaster or destruction or destabilizing events especially when viewing love as a destabilizing event itself.

my online pilates instructor who is australian and has a low voice and says "beautiful job" all the time. love her.

it's you, again, please. again. please — tags from another fic with the same pairing as the first bullet point. best friends to lovers is the elite trope to me, i'm sorry.

forgiveness as a game i always lose. — i have gotten so particular these days about the kind of angst i consume because i am someone who struggles to forgive, well moreso forget when people hurt me or the people i love. i love complex ficitional works where characters are allowed to hold grudges, be reluctant to move forward/begin again while still holding feelings of love and attraction toward whomever they love. i need more of that. i hate when conflict is resolved too quickly or when the conflict isn't convoluted enough to be drawn out as long as it is.

iris (perfume notes).

this:

the true grit of beautiful things — i.e. this post by @indianatumbleweedjones

oyster/pearlescent/oceanic/crystalline imagery

the way my stomach is what feels my anxiety first

this tiktok this creator made where she said she's sick of wlw love scenes always being portrayed as mermaid-esque, slow motion magical moments. — she wants something darker and more desperate and then i looked at the wlw media i have saved/reblogged/annotated and realized i'm the same. things can still be "slow" and tender while still emphasizing the batshit insanity of it all and the electric current that is touching someone with the same softness/body as you.

mmkay, that's all. love you. please don't think i'm crazy.

ally x

#🐇 ; about ally.#mine ; 🐎.#🦷 ; ally’s question for the culture.

44 notes · View notes

her-power · 2 days ago

Text

The Arms of Sorrow (Part Two: Dark Romance! e.m. x fem! reader)

‼️❌🛑18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🛑❌‼️

SEQUEL TO FIXATION ON THE DARKNESS

DO NOT CONTINUE IF YOU HAVEN’T READ THE FIRST STORY. THERE IS SPOILERS AHEAD ❤️

Trigger/Content Warning for entire series: Dark! Eddie. Language. Strong Sexual Content. Suicidal Ideation. Violence. Fluff.

Summary: Full Summary on Part One

The entire night was a blur, I don't think I fell asleep until a long time after the sun rose. I kept staring at now wilted rose. My dead heart would flutter thinking of you, and how there was a possibly that maybe I wasn't dreaming. Sleep consumed me, I'm pretty sure if someone were to walk into this house, I would look more dead than I already am.

Someone’s knocking on the front door.

I open one eye and see that sun has barely risen. I ignore the knocking, closing my eyes, burying my face in the pillow.

Knock. Knock.

Knockknockknockknock

I still ignore it. There’s only one person I know that would be persistent enough and also piss me off at the same time. The knocking goes away and I embrace the silence.

Then I hear a sound of fucking pebbles being thrown at the window. I toss the covers off me and flash to the window, I open it, my fangs fully extracted.

“What?” I hiss.

Dustin grins at me, his baby face almost gone, and he gives me a little wave. “Good morning sunshine, did I wake you?”

I growl. “What do you want?”

“There’s some business to discuss my good sir.”

I roll my eyes, wanting to laugh but I bite my tongue my fangs disappearing. “Go away.”

“Can’t. It has to do with the upside down.”

I stiffen, my knuckles going white as I grip the window frame. Flashes of memory attack my mind like a lighting bolt. Flashes of me, fighting with my friends, becoming who I am. Flashes of you…and the blade.

“I’ll be right down.”

I shut the window and get myself dressed in clean clothes. My black jeans and torn up Motley Crue shirt will do. I go let him in and he gives me another cheesy grin, tapping my face. A growl rumbles in my throat and he giggles.

He’s lucky I still feel that brotherly love for him or else I’d eat him.

He sits at the kitchen table, placing his giant backpack on the table. He looks up at me, his expression more serious.

“Have you eaten?”

“Not really.”

He unzips his backpack and pulls out four IV bags filled with blood. Labeled different types. I could feel my teeth ache, the slight burn in my chest as I stare at the dark red liquid. “Where did you get these?”

“Blood bank. The school was doing donations…I had help.”

“You took those from people who needed it.”

“I saw the majority of them going in the trash, Hawkins homophobia supply.” He meets my eyes, disappointment crosses his face and he sighs tiredly.

My skin crawls. This town will never change, maybe it deserves its doom. I place my hand over one of the bags labeled A+, a black X was written in permanent marker over the label. I take it from the table, I pierce the bag with my teeth, and let the medicine go down. I toss the other bags in the fridge.

“You’re gonna need your strength.”

I let out a loud sigh as I suck the bag dry, I toss it in the trash. “For what?”

“Battle of Black Gate.”

His Lord of the Rings reference causes me to spin around. “What do you mean?”

“It’s happening again. Almost the same way it happened in 86’.”

“How do you know?” I whisper.

He reaches into his backpack again and pulls out a Manila folder, opening it. The first page is a picture of a young girl, in the same position I remember seeing Chrissy Cunningham. Except she was nude, her body was bent at odd angles, and her lower half…I had to look away. “Hopper?” I ask him about the photographs.

“He still has the keys.” Dustin mutters. “She graduated Hawkins three years ago, her brother died of a drug overdose when she was in the next room. He clearly fed off that.”

“And what about the sexual assault? That’s new.” I turn back to look at Dustin.

“It’s ruled as self inflicted.”

A growl rumbles in my chest, he’s getting creative.

“So what does this have to do with me?” I ask him, trying my best to hold control, the blood was making my head spin, and it was taking everything in my power to not finish him off as a supply. I would never hurt him, but that part that was hungry didn’t care who it was.

“We need you to fight with us.”

“Who’s us? Steve is dead. Everyone else thinks I’m dead, we still don’t know if destroying Vecna will kill me again. And if that’s the case I’d rather die in peace.” He winces as I say this and I sigh, sitting across from him. “Listen man, we all know how this ends. I’m not the same kid you knew and if this ends in bloodshed and we win, I won’t be around anymore. And I prefer if you stayed away from the danger.”

“I’m not a kid anymore.” He mutters.

“I know.” He wasn’t, I know that but I was tired of him risking his life for me. “You have a family, friends, everyone I love has either taken off, in jail or dead. Wayne took off to New Mexico and honestly, it’s safer for him than here.”

“You won’t even try?”

I stare at him, and he understands my answer. He nods, gathering up his things. I walk him to the door, and clap his back. “Don’t be so pouty.”

“I won’t be once we save the world.”

I sigh again, the sun reflecting off the snow blinds me for a moment until I see something red on the ground near the stairs. I squint, Dustin sees my expression and follows my gaze. I walk slowly down the steps and bend down, grasping the stem in my fingers. It was another red rose. I put my nose to it and close my eyes, inhaling.

Rose.

Fresh linen.

Salt.

My eyes open with a snap, I know I’m not imagining things anymore. “Dustin, go home.”

“Is that a rose?”

“Go. Home.” I glare up at him. “I need to figure some things out.”

I take the rose with me and leave Dustin standing there as I slam the door. I rush to put my shoes on, grab my leather jacket, a shovel and I’m out the back door in a flash. I run through the woods, mindful of any early morning trail walkers but I knew once I got to that spot no one would see me. The cold bites my skin, I could smell wildlife in their dens, sleeping away the winter.

If only that was possible for me.

I find the marker of your resting place, the snow disturbed with animal tracks. I brush away as much snow as I can and stick the shovel into the ground. I had to use most of my strength because the ground was almost frozen but once I got a good handle on it, it was easy to shovel away the dirt.

After what felt like hours, I force myself to stop.

Your body wasn't in the ground.

I look for any sign of you, any sign of if maybe you were wildlife's dinner or you had disappeared into the soil. But there was nothing, no bone, no clothing...empty. I glance around the woods; if you were alive...why hadn't you come to me? Then I remembered something...

You had.

Last night. Right here in these woods. It was you...but not you.

You were me, before I became who I am now, who I was before him, before Vecna.

"No." I whisper. "That's not possible."

You had died, I watched you take your last breath, you lost too much blood, you didn't want me to heal you...you didn't...

My blood.

All those times I fed off you and then I gave you my blood. So much of it. I didn't think it would cause a transformation like this...we weren't vampires. But maybe, maybe my blood still lingered in your veins, it was able to regenerate. You were able to regenerate, but you weren't left in the Upside Down. Vecna couldn't make a deal with you like he did with me. If you were walking this Earth again as...what we are, that means you are more dangerous than me. You may be doing things on your own free will. I still don't understand what I am, or why I'm alive with no heartbeat and why I crave blood sometimes but not to where it consumes me.

I stand upright when I hear a twig snap behind me. I turn towards the sound, my claws extend and my teeth grow sharper.

I could smell you and someone else's blood.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are." I taunt. My feelings for you are completely shelved away. I need them to be; in order to face you, in order to look you in the eyes to make sure that what I was theorizing was actually the truth.

Snap.

I hear a high pitched chuckle.

"Coooome fiiiind me, baby."

My chest clenches at the sound of your voice, your real voice. I stand my ground, using my senses to lead me in the right direction. I close my eyes and breathe in, I turn to my left, hearing another twig snap.

Cold hands are on my neck as I’m pulled backwards and land hard on my back, I grunt, the sun blinding as I look up only to see the bottoms of your boots. I grab you by your ankles, pulling you back down towards me but you're fast, faster than me. You do a somersault, locking my leg around yours, launching me into a nearby brush. I hear your giggle again as I burst out of the brush, rage and anger coming out of me. The rumbles that came out of my throat could be mistaken for a mountain lion if a hunter were nearby.

I'm finally able to get a good look at you, and I freeze.

You're squatting near your gravesite, looking directly at me, smiling. Your eyes were a crimson, making me getting lost in them for a moment. My eyes dart all over your skin, imagining my lips at your throat, tasting you, tearing you apart. I wanted to take your beautiful hair in my fists, pulling so tightly until you finally submitted to me, and I would finally rip off the clothes that hugged all of your curves, starting with those leather pants. I'd fuck you on your gravesite, smothering dirt and snow all over us, bringing the forest down with us, begging you to scream my name...beautiful.

No.

I have to look away, but I can't. I slowly walk closer and you are still there, unmoving like a statue, watching me, smiling at me. It's almost terrifying. I see all the parts of you that I fell in love with so many years ago, but I also see the darkness that consumes you.

I whisper your name.

Your head tilts to the side, your smile growing larger. "Hi baby."

I let out a small gasp, tears form in my eyes. You stand now, you held yourself like you were royalty and you walk towards me. I don't move, afraid if I do then this will all be a dream and you're not really here. I could feel your warmth as you stop inches away from me, looking up at me with that smile. My hands go to your face, your skin smooth under my touch, warm. I glide my hands over your hair, feelings the strands between my fingertips, studying them, wondering how something so beautiful could still be existing on Earth with me. You let out a soft moan, my stomach clenches wonderfully and you reach up to touch my face. I let you feel my face, my hair, and when I can't stop the impulse to lean down and brush my lips against yours, you snap my neck.

My eyes burst open, it's dark out, the full moon is the only source of light. I'm laying on my back covered in new snow. My entire body feels like it was put into a meat grinder. I carefully sit up and I crane my neck, groaning as every single bone in my neck goes back into place.

Well, I learned something today. I didn’t die. Again. I get to my feet, groaning and popping my spine. I feel a sudden rage in the pits of my stomach when I remember something you did before I went lights out. The sound of your laughter filled my ears as I hit the ground: maniacal, psychotic, and also a pleasing sound. The unbearable urge that wants you dead creeps up my throat and I let out a growl. This wasn’t you anymore. This was something else, something different. Nothing like me, so what were you?

I rush back to your house, needing to sink my teeth into a bag of blood that Dustin gave me. It would at least jump start the healing in some of my bones. When I burst through the back door, you’re standing there.

“Like what you’ve done to the place.” You grin, running your fingers along the spotless counter top, not meeting my eyes. Your eyes scan the living room, the only thing that was different was a scattered board of dungeons and dragons left by Dustin, some books, magazines. But everything else was clean, I couldn’t let the house go to waste like you’re about to.

I hiss, my teeth bared.

You laugh. “Relax, did you have a nice nap?” Your eyes dart to me now, your grin large. I hiss again, louder this time. “I knew it wouldn’t kill you, tried it on myself once, threw myself off a three story building just to see how invincible I really am.”

My hand clench into fists as you stalk around the kitchen, not taking your eyes off of me like I was your prey. “Get. Out. Of. Here.”

You laugh, a beautiful sound that makes every single nerve in body react. “This is my house.” You take a step towards me and I let out a loud growl.

“I will kill you.” I barely whisper.

“Will you?” You smile, tilting your head at me. “I believe I’m already dead, like dead, dead. Not half way like you are.”

What?

“What are you talking about?”

You giggle. “Your heart still beats…it’s just soft…pitter……..patter…………pitter…..oh, there it is, patter.” You move closer to me, bridging the gap and suddenly I don’t want to move. Your palm goes to my chest and I freeze.

“Mmm…that’s what I desperately craved to feel when I was alive. The feel and sound of your heartbeat so I could say everything was just a dream.” Your nose brushes across my chin as you move your face up to look at me. “That animal you became. Where is he? Where did he go?” Your lips graze mine. “He fucked me so good.” You say it so quietly, and I yell, grabbing you by shoulders and pushing you away from me. The psycho laughs out of you and within a blink you’re pushing my face against the wall that divides the kitchen and the living room, your fist in a grip in my hair, you push your body against mine, I can feel your pelvis digging into my ass cheek as your other hand starts to caress down my skin.

“Oh but isn’t this what you wanted earlier? To remember what my insides felt like? To make me scream your name until I can’t take it anymore and my pussy is just begging for more.” Your lips are near my ear, I try to move out of your grasp but you’re strong. Very strong.

“Fuck you.” I growl.

Your hand slinks down my back, under my shirt and around my abdomen, lingering at the button of my jeans, my stomach muscles clench when you pop open the button, and you glide your hand all the way down until your gripping my half way erection into your hand. I shudder out a groan, trying to suppress it.

“That’s what you have waiting for me? Come on baby, I know you can do better than that.” You grind yourself into my backside and stroke my cock at the same time, the movement, the position that I’m in, and the fact that it’s you, makes me get harder and more fucking pathetic feeling. My eyes flutter close, I try to push you off me again and this time you smash my head off the wall, making me dizzy. I feel your tongue glide up my neck, and I feel myself relax as a wave of pleasure vibrates through my body as you continue to stroke me. A loud moan escapes me and you laugh breathlessly. “That’s it baby.”

“What are you?” I groan out.

Your teeth graze my ear, I can feel the sharp points as you whisper: “A god.” A hiss escapes you as you sink your teeth into my neck and another moan escapes me. I can barely hold onto the wall anymore, but all I want is you. I muster up as much strength as I have and I grab you from behind, flipping you over my shoulder and slam you into the wall, pinning your hands above your head.

“Oh.” You gasp with a smile, my blood falling from your lips, your fangs still exposed. “There he is.” My fangs extract and I growl, burying my face into your neck as I sink my teeth into your flesh and you scream out in pleasure. Your blood tasted different, sweeter, warmer, I wanted to keep going, I wanted to drain your entire essence but there was something else I wanted to taste. I rip my teeth away from your neck and grip your arms, throwing you onto the kitchen table, causing it to groan as it slightly snaps, you laugh, your mouth finding mine as you suck your blood off my tongue, and I bite your lower lip. I rip off your pants, the fabric tearing easily with my fingertips. Our lips part with a smack and I force you roughly on your back, gripping your thighs and pushing them apart to reveal yourself to me. I bite your inner thigh, your hip, and you let out a sound I have never heard you make before. It was monstrous almost, like you were some kind of animal.

Fuck, I needed you.

Your pussy was dripping gloriously and I didn’t even hesitate before burying my face into you, sucking hard on your clit, savoring every moment of your sweet, sweet taste.

“Ooooooh. That’s it baby. You’ve been waiting for this haven’t you? Do I taste just like you remember? Ooooh, fuck…this is…this is…” You’re writhing beneath me, I grip your thighs harder, sucking the little bundle between my teeth and I pull back breathlessly. Your blood falls from my lips and I slam you onto your stomach, you laugh again, your breath coming out in tiny waves. I push my pants down, grip your thighs and slam myself into you. I groan loudly, feeling your insides mold beautifully with my cock and you cry out. With every thrust you’re calling out my name. I nip your skin with my teeth, licking the blood that trickles down your neck. I yank you up by your hair, your back is against me and I’m ripping your shirt off, your breasts falling into my hands and I continue my rhythm. I pinch your nipples, rubbing the blood that fell from your neck over the perfect bud. Your strength over powers me and you’re knocking me to the floor, pinning my arms above my head with one hand as you rock your hips against me, riding me. The look in your eyes was animalistic and I moan loudly, I pull your head down to my neck and you bite me, your tongue lapping up the blood, moving to my lips. Your kiss was tender this time, and your tongue molds with mine as I grip the back of your head, pushing myself into you and you continue to bounce.

“Oh fuck…” you cry out, fucking me faster and harder. “Oh fuck!”

I’m groaning loudly, leaning up on my elbows to catch your nipple in my mouth, feeling myself close to release.

But you stop.

I meet your eyes and you’re smiling that smile from earlier. “You think I’d let you get that part of me that easily? Ha, you’re a lot stupider than I thought, the game has just gotten started, baby.” You lean in towards my lips, grazing your nose along my jaw. “Have a nice nap.”

You snap my neck.

Again.

Son of a bitch.

A/N: heeeeeere’s part 2! I hope you enjoy! Thank you for your patience. I had loads of fun with this 😂

@fandomsearcherforcuntymen @kellsck @fearless-wretch-insanity @trixyvixx

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fluff #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson x smut #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson series

20 notes · View notes

dexthtoyounglings · 1 day ago

Text

Often

Cassian x Reader Smut

Summary: You had always wanted him to see you other than in anger. It was like your stepping into rooms was spreading a plague, killing him slowly. You just wanted him to hear you. To feel what you felt.

Warnings: slight angst, hate-fucking, p in v, degradation, choking, Cassian's kinda really mean in this one, hair-pulling, creampie, violence, mention of war (kinda), mention of Eris

A/N: Hi! This is my first smut in this fandom after I took a (well needed) hiatus after being involved in another fandom. This is scrapped together over a few weeks as I have been busy, so please bear with me, and let me know what you think!! :)

•--•

You huffed out a sigh, finally flipping the last packet on your desk to its front and adding it to the pile at your feet. Sure, you still had a report to write up, but everything had been annotated, and Rhysand had asked for such before he got the formal write up.

You had fallen into this comfortable rhythm after coming into the position. As the Night Court's secretary, you had become a part of the inner circle after the War with Hybern. Rhysand valued the way that you highlighted and took notes on the side, summarizing information you found crucial. He liked the written reports you made, but you had come to know how he only liked the reports for their keeping history of events -- immediate information was more valuable.

You grabbed your tote bag, neatly tucking the papers into it, careful not to mess with the uniform pile you arranged. Pulling on a heavy coat over your sweater, you shouldered the bag, slipping into warm winter boots and stepping out into the long awaited fresh air.

The streets of Velaris were always pretty. On Solstice week, they were a dream -- the display of lights and joy shining through the city like an array of bubbles. Laughter popped, children drifted around their parents' legs, and you could've sworn the air sparkled with it. But, nothing compared to the month after Solstice. Where festive lights were taken down, but the snow still glowed with the love that consumed its citizens.

Velaris was the Court of Dreams, and like its evil older sister, it proved true.

Losing your focus to the couples hand-in-hand, you barely noticed your approach to the River House, blowing on your cold hands to keep them warm.

Suddenly, the door opened abruptly, Feyre standing there to greet you as she always attempted to.

Your High Lady was nothing but caring, going to far lengths to make you feel apart of their small family. You smiled at her, walking up the steps and right into her waiting arms, the warmth of them engulfing you like a soft quilt.

"Y/n! It's so good to see you," she pulled back, looking at the bag that hung from your shoulder, "Don't tell me Rhys has been overworking you.."

You giggled, "Well, Mother Hen, I assure you I am perfectly comfortable with my current workload."

She rolled her eyes at your teasing, knowing she reflected her mate's protective tendencies. She stepped aside, allowing you into the house. You breathed in the air, grounding yourself as you examined the familiar space.

It looked all the same as the last time you had been. Though, that never stopped the house from amazing you. Decorated like a family home, yet sleek and clean like a palace. How a family could balance such two things in a way that you never felt stiff inside of was truly astonishing.

Despite the wonder of your environment, you knew there would always be a time limit to that comfortability. Especially when your favorite Illyrian male had a habit of interrupting your peace. And destroying it.

You had felt it from the moment you resumed your pace to the living room, following the ghost of Feyre's footsteps. His cold and hateful animosity towards you rolling off his body in dark waves. You would've been able to find him without Feyre's guidance, as if you were being dragged under the surf and kidnapped into the black sea that was his wrath.

Cassian.

He was everything that repelled you and pulled you closer. You resented him, always knowing the disgust he put towards your existence, and yet you fought the urge to tuck yourself closer to him. You wanted to be his friend, wanted to be his right-hand, and he seemed to, at most, believe you were shit stuck on the bottom of his boot.

It made you grind your teeth, lying awake at night, wondering what you ever did to make him feel so poorly for you.

Suffocating was the only correct word for how you felt in the same room as Cassian.

The first step into the room was like a mark on your soul, his steep brown eyes narrowing in, floating that hate through the air. A wretch, disgusting and withered. Through his eyes, you had always wondered what stood in your place. Always wondered what creature you hid inside.

He stood next to Rhysand, attention removed from his previous engagement. His wings were stiff, and if you knew any better, you could've sworn he was holding back from snarling at you.

Flicking your eyes to the ground, you stabilized yourself before examining the rest of the room with caution.

Azriel didn't stand too far from you, back against the wall, as distant from the lit hearth as he could manage, catching the setting rays of sun. The winter closed out days more eagerly, though the night was always welcomed, a comfortable blanket over the restless city. Plus, Azriel seemed to bask in being warmed by a different source.

Amren was curled up in an armchair, in which she had practically claimed as hers these days, picking at her nails as if she didn't just get them done several days ago. Mor sat on the angled love seat, positioned mere inches away from the chair. Her legs were stretched out, a peaceful smile gracing her face. She waved to you.

Bowing your head, you focused in on Feyre and Rhysand. They were both distracted, but Rhys noticed your fixed stare, welcoming you with a smile.

You smiled back, pulling your bag off your shoulder, reaching in to grab the stack of research papers and plopping it on the coffee table before him.

"I gave you those two days ago," he stated, looking up at you with curiosity.

You shrugged, "Winter keeps me inside."

He shook his head, looking back up at you with an individual sincerity, "Thank you for these. Cauldron knows we could use more of your work ethic around here."

He gave a pointed look at Amren, who shot him an icy glare that no longer carried the power it once had. Though, it had the same sway. Rhys' laugh boomed in the room, Feyre smiling gently at the noise. It would've been the perfect picture of life -- family.

Had it not been for Cassian's refusal to take his cold stare from the side of your head.

Mor walked over to the stack, touching your shoulder with a friendly reminder of her presence, picking up a few packets. Sifting through them, her eyes of crystalline honey dragging over the words and annotations. Her finger tapped the back of her mini-stack occasionally, leaving you to the silence of knowingly watching.

She pointed to the paragraph. "Cassian," she looked up at him, "I didn't know you stopped by the Summer Court recently."

The devilish smirk gracing her perfect face spoke words she didn't; she was teasing at his expulsions from that wave-washed court. He was notorious for such things. But, trouble in the Summer Court seemed to especially make his body a home.

Cassian softened at her words-- not even her words, just her. Plain and simple. Cassian softened at her.

You felt the pit of your belly gurgle, bubbles of pointed anger soon popped by the onslaught of shame which ate at your mind. You recognized the sensation, the white heat melting all around it.

Jealousy. You had always know it, deep in your heart, denied and shoved into a corner, but jealousy never hid for long enough. He had defrosted himself for her, as he would have Feyre, or Amren. Gods, maybe even Nesta. At each others teeth; he would've gone soft even for her.

The hollow cave of your throat tightened, pushing out air and snapping your attention back to Rhys, "Is there anything you would like me to work on now?"

His shoulders were slightly tensed at your sudden mood change, yet he just shook his head.

"You're leaving already, girl?" Amren asked, her teeth shaped the perfect semblance of human, her voice still holding that edge, "Ever thought of staying casually?"

You rolled your eyes, excepting the teasing, but denying you heard the underlying quizzing.

The answer was no. You have never thought of staying casually. Not while the beast always lingered, growling at you from the corner of every room. And now, you've realized you find it even worse when he's purring. He's never done such a thing under your watchful eye. But, that certainly wasn't the correct answer.

"I have a few things to do at home," you settled for.

Amren leveled you a stinging glare, a hum of disdain making you flinch. No more words were spoken, like it was so easy to watch you disappear.

You waved goodbye to the select people paying you any attention, leaving without as much of a whisper of protest. You took note of Azriel's shadows, reaching out to embrace your shoulder in comfort, returning to their master quickly after:

That pit in your stomach carried you out the door, a trail of silent envy tainted the freshly fallen layer of snow on the street. You inhaled, feeling it rise, peak, and quell with a loud exhale.

Then, shame.

You had fallen into a deep pit of work. Knocking out two written research papers, and writing up a paper from the stack Rhys eagerly returned to you. It had been just a week.

A week.

Like a grueling sickness, your hands refused to stop moving, a temporary distraction from the life around you. While your arm was moving so near to aching and sore by the end of every night, your head was only filled with raw information, the churning of formatting and sentences. You lost yourself in the pen and ink, and let sleep through the bedroom door only after your fingers stiffened to the point of uselessness.

You never even noticed that you'd been alone for the past several days, the house finally an eerie quiet when it dawned on you;

You had no more work to be done.

And it was despair that welcomed you instead of joy. The first and last thoughts that ever seemed to enter your head were that of Cassian, the brute that grew hate like flowers. Telling yourself you hated him back wouldn't be enough. You wanted to truly hate him, so you wouldn't yearn for his toxic attention.

Yet, like a puppy, you felt you were always back at his feet before the night ended, thinking of the heat that would radiate from his hands as they ran down your sides, the weight of his body against your own, the brush of his eyelashes across your cheeks in the most loving fashion.

Maybe he'd come home from missions, allowing you to greet him with tiny kisses, pressing yourself against his muscle-hardened chest, touching-

You flushed those thoughts from your head, face heating with the want of it all.

Cassian was like a forbidden fruit, growing on separate branches just to escape the possibly of your hand reaching out.

You fantasized about this tangible version of him, one that found you nothing but completely delicious, holding you with a grip of iron every night, afraid of the possibility you could slip from him in the night.

A dreamer in a fit court. If dreams of a connection to Cassian weren't just cruel nightmares.

A knock at your door brought you out of the most intense thoughts you'd had all week. Rushing to the door, you didn't check before opening it wide. Revealing Morrigan.

"Mor," you said with relief, "How are you? Is there anything I can help you with?"

She tilted her head at your question, smiling cooly as you stood back to let her inside.

"Why does every interaction have to be about work? What if I just wanna see my favorite friend?"

Blushing, you quickly prepared a kettle with water, setting it up on the stove. Turning, you found Mor sat on one of the stools around your kitchen island, resting her chin on her hands and watching you move around with purpose. Her boots and coat were left at the door, the latter hung up beside it. Glossy golden hair fluffed down over the shoulders of a ruby red sweater, threads of silver shining in the light streaming through the kitchen window.

You felt small under her presence, realizing the only thing further from setting out mugs and teabags was to wait for the water to boil. Leaving you to sit down, and face the hazel marbles that bore into your skin without effort.

A moment of silent took you completely out of your realm, an air of uncomfortability hovering over you.

"Is.... everything okay?" Mor asked, that contented curl of her lips falling to a thin line. The corners of her mouth twitched with concern.

You looked down at the grainy countertops, swirling your fingers around individual patterns, swallowing around nothing.

"Yes, everything is okay."

Mor's head dipped, catching your focus. Her eyebrows were downturned in utmost care. The attempt to float a lie around her was fruitless; it bounced off a clean and unaffected Mor.

"Please," she said, "I want to be here for you."

Your shoulders rose, tense.

"I'm fine, really," you assured, unconvincing to even yourself.

The tea kettle howled at you, disrespected at such a feeble attempt at self-defense. Pathetic.

"Really? Because you've been cooped in your house for a week straight doing nothing but work. When was the last time you spoke to any of us?"

"It's not that crazy. Maybe I have a second life that none of you know about?"

Your walls were slipping, and Mor was gaining height on them. Intent to cross over.

The snort she let out was the first crack. A mocking noise that notched into a sliver that lay along your heart. Your chest ached.

"A second life?" she teased, voice raised, "I'm not that gullible." Standing, she found herself at your side, hip set against the rounded marble edge, "Y/n."

You looked up, picking at the skin on your fingertips.

"Let me in," she pleaded.

A hole in the wall killed the infrastructure.

"Why does he hate me?"

Her nostrils flared at the question. She was expecting a heavier brick than that to strike her foot. "Who?"

You cleared your throat, still rasping, "Cassian."

A bubbling rose through her, air pushing up, searching. And through her chest, into her throat, and involuntarily a boisterous laugh escaped the seamlessly elegant female next to you. The laughing didn't stop, and it didn't touch your own lips. Her laugh fell into breathless huffs, a finger sweeping under her eye.

"Cassian? Hates you?" she asked.

Anger grifted onto your veins, "Yes! I step in a room, and you'd think I killed his whole family! If there was something deeper than hate, I'm sure it would be the perfect descriptor for what he feels for me."

Maybe she had thought you were really joking, or maybe she just thought you had a better set of senses, but her face suddenly turned to something more supportive and professional.

"Y/n," she placed both of her hands on your shoulders, squeezing, "Cassian doesn't hate you:"

You roll your eyes, a human gesture you'd been picking up from the Archeron sisters, spending too much time drinking in their sass.

You pulled her hands off, the kettle whistling in your ear violently, grabbing you away from a dense weight that creeped back into its hidey-hole.

"He's so sweet with you. He was laughing, and he was gentle, and he was just normal."

Mor listened without interruption, even letting your pause pass like a heavy storm cloud.

"But, I only make him go cold. He- He shoves me away. Like I'm- he treats me like I'm nothing, Mor," tears well in your eyes as you pour the steaming water into the two mugs, teabags floating up in response, "What did I do wrong?"

A pair of strong, feminine arms wrapped around you in sisterly support, holding you close to her chest. She smelled like a rich flower, blooming in dark purples and blues. You let your head lean back against the hold of her shoulders, small tears leaking from the corner of your eyes. Falling and absorbing into the environment, you cried with your back to Mor.

You had never cried in front of anyone before, but it was hard to resist the thrall that came with her consuming love.

"Mor," you spoke, voice small.

She guided you to sit, taking care of your current occupation, setting your tea in front of you. Altered to your taste, you took a sip and allowed it to run through you like an open wound.

"You should talk to him," she suggested in return, blowing at her tea, steam rising.

Face pointed to the tall windows, side-by-side on the wall beside your door, you watch the blue of the sky dancing solo.

"How?"

Mor was smirking when you looked back to her. An experienced warrior.

The behavior went on. Partly because Cassian was an asshole, and partly because every time you wanted to open your mouth, your throat closed up, and anger ignited pins and needles in every surface of your body. The frost he treated you with spread to your own heart, leading to you upturning your nose at his waking existence. It hurt all the same. Going home to your empty apartment, falling asleep with your heart reaching out through your open curtains, begging for the night to produce what you desired most.

You pushed yourself back into the swamp of work, completing assignments at the same rate, maybe even quicker. This coping mechanism had been a frequent thing, stomped out into the remnants of a kindle after enough time.

The embers burned just as bright as the day it started, this time proving that some fires were eternal.

You rummaged through papers, searching for a missing report, mixing it up in the wrong pile. A frustrated click vibrated off your tongue. Fumbling with the final pile, your eye snagged on a familiar heading, snatching it out of the mussed stack.

You pulled the ream back together, tapping the bottoms on your table and shoving it into the folder it had arrived in. You pulled a string around it, placing it on top of your complete works.

It would be time for a trip to the River House soon.

A pounding at your front door made you jump in your own skin. It bore no familiarity, unrecognizable from the knocks you'd responded to in your prior time in Velaris.

You dropped your bag into the desk chair beside you, brushing your braid to fall over your shoulder. Approaching the door, another round of knocking began, even more aggressive than the last. You hasted your steps in frustration, pulling the door open, your face paling.

Cassian towered over you, broad wings covering the sun from entering in and blessing your person. His hair was down, fluffed effortlessly by the wind, loose strands tickling is face. And by the Gods, he was gorgeous.

He didn't wait for you to step back before he was walking in, forcing you to retreat into your home. In his hands, he held a stack of reports, ones you assumed Rhys sent him in a mission to drop off.

There was no way he would've ever volunteered himself.

He tossed down the stack on your kitchen counter with a grunt, a few papers flying off the top and onto the ground. He stood a moment, refusing to pick it up, but taking in his surroundings.

Disgust painted his face, like even knowing you lived here tainted the idea of it.

He turned back to your door, pulling his leather jacket further on. Under his breath, you heard, "No reason Azriel couldn't have done this..."

Steaming hot anger seared the very air you breathed, the tips of your pointed ears turning a deep red and your eyebrows scrunching, provoked by his mumblings.

"What is your problem?" you asked, voice assertive.

As if he hadn't expected the same tone your bore, his head turned. His body was second to follow, peering down at you, "What the hell does that mean?"

Your nose scrunched.

"It means why the fuck are you such an asshole all the time?" your words were laced with cold venom, "Every time I have ever been near you, you're just an asshole!"

He refused to meet your eyes, staring up at the ceiling, "Why do you care?"

Your heart thundered like a train; accepting the self-destruction, yet fearing the crash. Yearning for him to close in around you, cocoon you in his warmth, the acceptance of failed dreams gnawed at the back of your neck.

"I just want to know you, Cassian. I want to be your friend."

He ignored your words, the picture of pure boredom. His shoulders straight, wings kicking in irritation. It sunk every thought you had right into the Sidra's current.

"What do I have to change for you to accept me?"

Cassian straightened. Stiff, the twin of a board, like he had been struck by lightning. The air stilled like dead wight, time stopping. Electricity rang through your ears, sharpening your vision. A warning.

His eyes met yours. Predatory, searching for the right patch of flesh to mar. His eyes had lost their light, yet something burned in them so pure and full of life that you shivered. He was like a beast in this moment, the image that enemies saw at his approach. Like death and life, purgatory rested within him, trapped like a soulless animal.

His jaw clenched.

"What did you say?"

A raspy grunt came from deep in your chest and you yelled without second thought, "I asked what the fuck I have to do to get you to accept me? Huh? What do I have to do to be acceptable for you?"

You underestimated the speed of the Illyrian in front of you. He was big, a bulky, tall mammoth of a soldier. You assumed swiftness had passed him in the meantime. Though, he turned with such precision, hand swift as he reached out a large hand to grab your wrist. Stumbling forward, your whole face heated, a heaving in your lungs so deep that nobody was prepared to hear the words you bellowed.

But that steaming wrath was interrupted, a quick end.

"You are perfectly fine, Y/n," he seethed.

The response had your brain short circuiting. Perfectly fine. Just perfectly fine.

Before you could stop yourself, you laughed. A deranged laugh that didn't meet your eyes. Short, blunt sounds that were so detached from your usual cadence of enjoyment that you barely recognized it.

"Wow," you said with another snort, "W-ow! Then I guess I should just stop worrying! Because I'm perfectly fine!"

Cassian looked at you from under his dropped brows.

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear, Cassian. The wordsmith you are... it blows us all away!"

You could read him like an open book now, red building in his face, and a simmering thing opening up in his posture.

Just a little further.

You couldn't help yourself from the giggles that pranced through the air, foreshadowing every strike you landed.

"So I guess we can move back on to you shoving your own cock in your mouth while you give me the cold shoulder, right? Because everything is just fine!"

Your last words rang through the air like the final bell.

Disoriented, your location left you, forgetting the surrounding objects that crashed to the floor, scattering around your feet.

Cassian had shoved you back into an accent table, knocking over a potted plant with the force of his ministrations. You grunted at the impact, your lower back feeling the tense pinch that was created by the wood.

You were caged, Cassian's arms like immovable bars. You held one of his biceps with the hand not held in his clutch, maintaining a loose sense of balance.

"What the fuck is wr-"

Cassian interrupted you, drowning your sentence, "You don't understand what it's like. To have to be around you all the time."

Your face morphed into something cruel, mocking him with self-deprecating humor, "Oh, you're a fucking asshole!"

"And you're an annoying bitch, do you know that?" he bit back, "Always acting like you're entitled to princess treatment. Guess what! You're nothing but the scummy secretary of a High Lord!"

Reigning in your hands, your dominant stiffened with fuel. A fire seemed to ignite the nerves inside your arm, hairs standing up like an army of undead soldier. Raised for the battle, your hand held a strong position, moving without warning and landing a swift assault on his cheek.

You backhanded Cassian. Red blotched his skin eagerly, your knuckles surely having left marks on his cheek.

His head had shifted at the impact. A stillness overtook him, the muscles in his neck tensing. The highlights of them popped out with a thrilling pause, his loud inhale laying down a dirty foundation as it hollowed those soft spaces on his throat. Sparks licked up your abdomen. You were sure that the scent of your arousal was like a plague to the situation. The reactions that you tried to keep hidden, your willingness to bend whenever he was around you. It surrounded you now, hovering its needy hands. Warmth clenched at your core, your thighs flexing in restraint.

A rumbling fired into the air, a noise that reverberated from Cassian's center, traveling into his limbs and shaking his hands gently. You felt the vibrations in your connection, his fingers now gripping you with possession.

This moment. This was different. This wasn't the usual hatred that existed between the two of you. This was a deeper hunger, dried out with starvation. Fuck, everything you were made of was hungry for Cassian, clouding your judgment. The self-control you prided yourself in was pulling apart like a frangible cloud.

"You greedy bitch," he said through chuckles, spoken with sharp teeth, "Everything just needs to go your way, doesn't it? No room for patience, or explanations. Not everything is plain and simple, laid out for our sweet little secretary."

His nickname spiked your anger.

"You know that's not true," you spit back.

He rolled his eyes, face closing in on your own, "Sure, and I'm not Illyrian."

You tried yanking your wrist from his grasp, and he only tightened his grip.

"You're doing it right fucking now. You think I can't smell you?" he grit out, "You smell like a bitch in heat. That's all you want, huh? For me to go all soft on you and bow at your feet. Give you the princess treatment, take you to bed all slow and sweet every night?"

Eyes drifting to his lips, you spoke sensually, "And if you're correct?"

His jaw tightened, the bone accentuated sharply.

"Then you'd be wrong."

Your eyes flicked up to stare into his. They had never left your own, as if he were watching every one of your features move in tandem. Cassian studied you, prized in assessing his prey. His brown eyes were a deep pool in the dim space between you. And his own gaze was hot, barely a gaze as it was a brutal investigation. You felt your body melting into the same puddle you did every night, thinking of his calloused hands, and his hard body. Cassian consumed you in the pit of darkness that hovered in his very presence.

"I wouldn't be sweet with an annoying brat like you," he seethed, free hand coming up to grip your chin, "I'm not one of the mindless men you're used to. You'd be mine. It would go my way, and I would fuck you just the way that I like."

Your breathing went shallowing, eyelids drooping. His words commanded your body like the spilling of magic. You reacted readily, nipples peaking under your clothes, reeling in the images he fed you.

"You would like that, wouldn't you? To cut the shit, let me use you like a cocksleeve?"

"Fuck you," you responded, yet it lacked the spunk you were searching for, instead melting into something like a sunken moan.

"Trust me, princess. I will."

Cassian's lips crashed down onto your own in a hurried kiss, like a moment longer without your mouth on his would shatter the world. Mother, you would've believed him if he said such was true.

For the brutish appearance of him, Cassian's lips were soft upon your own. They moved with an uncontrolled possession, capturing your bottom lip prisoner with every passionate lunge.

You were puddy in his arms. Large, muscular arms. Fuck, his whole body seemed to muddle your thoughts, driving you mad. He was a weapon against your own senses, dangerous to any maintenance of concentration.

You reached up to hold his face, rough stubble scratching against your fingers that held lower on his jaw. His hands pulled away, only to move to the depression of your waist, pulling your lower half against his.

A hardness pressed against your lower belly, spreading molten lava through your body as a warning; this male was detrimental when he practically breathed the same air as you. Not to mention that he was steel at your own command, hard to the touch.

You moaned, your kisses turning open-mouthed, tongues tangling with messy abandonment. Spit coated your lips, some smeared further on your chin, teeth clashing in a hungry attempt to tear each other apart.

He wasn't close enough. Your body was groaning like a train, refusing against its brakes. Your hands drifted into his hair, fingers tangling, pulling his face impossibly closer to your own.

Cassian's hands were like hot irons, branding your skin with every touch passed. Your front teeth clanked together, both of you panting into the space as you finally calmed to a standstill.

"Cassian," you breathed out.

He slipped one of his hands under your thigh, hiking it up to rest at his hip, his hands holding you up from the junction of your knee.

"You don't understand what you do to me," he tucked his face under your jaw, silently begging access to your neck.

You let him, tilting your head up and accepting the way his lips latched onto the soft skin there, kissing and sucking, biting into the flesh with unrelenting hunger.

"Let me," you begged.

He stopped, placing gentle kissing along the hallow of your throat, "What do you mean?"

"Let me understand."

Picking you up, hands under your ass, and walking you into your secluded living room, he dropped you onto the plush of your sofa. He crawled over you, touching you with a searing kiss.

Cassian's hands dipped down to the waistband of your pants, the tips of his fingers dipping below to catch the warmth of your skin. He looked up to you, waiting for a confirmation.

You nodded, "Yes."

Those sweet moments were dropped from there on out, his hands like that of a mad male, tearing your leggings down urgently. He didn't waste time before stripping you of your shirt, leaning back to run his eyes over your body.

"You are... intoxicating."

Cassian's voice was strained, as if something was holding his body a slave, yet the words couldn't help but birth themselves. He brought himself down, tongue licking up the center of your abdomen, leaving a wet stripe up to the valley between your covered breasts.

His hands travelled under your back, unclasping your bra with a few tugs. Roughly tearing off your bra, it joined the rest of your clothes, leaving you vulnerable to the male that hovered over you.

A salivating dog, he was eager for you. As if he couldn't have you fast enough, lifting you up to meet his mouth as he latched on to one of your hard nipples.

You inhaled sharply, watching him with droopy eyes. He bit down, pulling a louder moan from you. His smile in return to the noise only made your stomach twist in excitement. He pulled off with a pop, tonguing at the unattended one with the same cocky expression. You felt helpless, on display, reaching for him.

Cassian allowed it, letting your back fall down unsupported as you ran your hands up his shirt, tugging it off before you reached up to pull him back to you. With a stiff spine, he refused, grabbing your hips with a bruising touch and pulling your core against him. You bit your lip, the pressure of his bulge sending your head into clouded territory.

"Yeah, do you like that?" he asked, "Fuck, I can practically feel you throbbing. Pretty little slut."

You sighed, hands traveling around his hips and waist, fingers toying at the elastic waistband of his boxer, peeking out of his leathers. He grinded into you, grunting as he watched your face contort in pleasure. He reached up with a large hand, the span of it wrapping around your fragile throat as his hips ground against you again in a deep motion.

"Mother above, you're like a fucking aphrodisiac. I can barely contain myself, knowing that you exist. Always prancing around our High Lady, all sweet and innocent. I knew what you were playing at. 'Could always smell how excited you got around me."

You tried pushing him away with a snarl. His cocky remarks fueled a fire inside of you that drove you further into this realm of deep hatred.

He tightened his grip on your neck, tutting, "Ah ah ah... You truly wouldn't want me to leave now, would you? Not when you're all riled up. Who would take care of little miss princess then?"

"I can take care of myself," you choked out.

He huffed a laugh, "Sure."

You grabbed his wrist, tugging him off you slightly to remark, "I bet you don't even know how to make a female cum. You're just anther Illyrian brute, after all."

The corners of your living room, quickly filling with shadows. The sun outside faded into the horizon of Velaris, snickering at your words, a display of foreshadowing. You had finally hit it, the one mark that would either drive him away, or drive him mad.

You could've sworn his scent grew impossibly stronger, preluding to the hostile grip he held your hips in, flipping you over without care for the lolling of your head, pushing your body forward into the cushions of the couch. Unbalanced out of your control, you submitted to the brutal way that you were shoved into the pillows, hair tossed recklessly around you in a crown of shame.

You heard rustling, the snapping of elastic, and then the press of hot, bare skin against your backside. What you didn't prepare for was the unprompted, teasing touch of his length at your thigh.

The graze of it made you shiver. He was... thicker than you had imagined. All those nights, lying in bed, sweat dripping from your brow and fingers stuffed between your legs, and you hadn't expected him to be so... big.

Cassian leaned over your back, pressing close to your body as he nuzzled against you. His lips kissed at the tip of your fae ear.

"You wanna be a bitch? Then I'll fuck you like a bitch."

He leaned back, leaving you missing the pressure of his body on top of yours. Though, he didn't let you miss it for too long.

You sucked in through your teeth, jolting forward at the sudden pain before you realized your panties were falling down. They had been ripped to shreds at your knees, Cassian tearing them right at the center.

You moaned at the hasty kindling of a fire inside of your body. Registering quickly the running of Cassian's hot tip through your folds, collecting the slick that dripped slowly from your wanting hole. Your ears twitched with the onslaught of a shyness, so exposed to the large warrior.

"So fucking wet for me," he remarked, "Must be so hard to be such a fucking cumslut all the time."

He teased your center with the tip of his cock, "But, I bet it's not all the time, huh?"

You wiggled your hips, trying to gain some sort of relief, but he moved with you.

"You're only dripping because you just hate me that much. Right?"

He pushed into you slightly, breaching your clenching hole, bringing you to a moaning relief, before pulling back out.

He leaned over you, hand grabbing ahold of your hair from the roots and pulling you back from the cushions.

"Say it. Tell me that it's me that makes you a mess like this."

You groaned in sexual frustration.

"You- You make me a mess like this. It's only you.."

He barked out a laugh, pushing into you slowly, the stretch unbearable.

"That's a good girl. You're all mine, aren't you? Such a sweet girl, all mine to fuck, and ruin."

You nodded your head fervently, mind filled with doughy excitement.

"Say it," he demanded.

You wiggled back against his pulsing cock, "I'm yours, Cassian. I'm all yours, please..."

Chuckling, he sheathed himself into you fully.

Ripping a scream from your chest, all your thoughts dripped into a pit of nothingness. Nothing mattered but him; nothing existed but Cassian. He was thick, huge, fucking hot. And he was so far inside of you, breaching your body in a way you had never felt in your life. The stretch was borderline unbearable, digging into your very soul.

The only tether you had to Prythian was his strong fingers grasping your locks by where they grew. He pulled you back out of your bubbling pit, scalp stinging a little.

"You're... so fucking tight, holy Mother," he moaned, panting above you.

Tiny noises were all you could manage, head clouded, "Please..."

"Please what, sweet girl? Tell me what you need?"

"'Need you to fuck me, Cassie- Please.."

He obeyed you simply, hips pulling back before he thrusted back into you with a power which was held back inside of him.

Resisting. A large man like him had more than just the blow that landed on your body, pushed you forward and smooshed your nose into the pillows. You knew there was more than just the soft ripple of your skin against his. In your mind's eye, you knew full well that a man like him had a dam built to contain.

You decided that you refused to respect his closed off restraint.

You needed it all.

"Don't tell me- oh my go- Don't tell me that- this is all you've got," you managed, testing the waters.

Thrusting into you exceptionally hard, the sting of it making you suck in lost air, he pulled your hair to hold your head up as he pushed his pace rougher.

"You don't wanna feel all that I've got," he snarked, "I don't think you could handle it. After all, you can barely handle being ignored."

Pushing your ass back against his pelvis, you mocked him, "I didn't realize you were a pure-bred pussy. Maybe I'll just have to ask someone else."

He held his breath, body at a halt inside of you. His fingers twitch within the tangles of your hair.

"I'm sure your great friend Eris wouldn't hold back on me. He's never been scared of a challenge."

Cassian's hand let you fall into the pillows, moving to press at the center of your back, between your shoulder blades. He pressed his body into yours, hovering like the embodiment of looming dread, a silent warning.

You didn't dare bite your tongue. It would've fallen off.

All air was drained from your lungs as if his cock was a siphon, pounding into you shamelessly. The slapping of your skins was lewd, disgusting as it absorbed every other noise in the room.

You couldn't help how good it felt though. How you whole body seemed the bask in the way he fucked you like a man gone mad. You didn't know whether to scramble or stay put, walls pulsing with the heavy craving that arose at his touch. He was tearing you in two, the thick length of him running through your walls like the hammering of steel.

He fucked in reckless abandon, gritting out, "Little bitch. You need to learn to watch. your. mouth."

You begged your vocals to respond, but all you could make out was a torn moan, broken in the muffled cushions.

"Nothing to say now?" the leaking tip of him slammed deep into your cunt, "Didn't know it was so easy to knock you off your high horse. Maybe I'll have to fuck you stupid more often."

You whine in response, hands clawing at the pillows in front of you, saliva leaking from the corner of your mouth.

He was ripping your soul from your body, and you vowed with some higher power that you would do anything to feel the delicious drag of his cock again.

With a particularly power thrust, he struck into you, forcing his weight onto you with a hand in your hair again. He pulled your head up, looking into your fucked-out eyes.

"Fuck, you're so pretty when you're helpless like this," he groaned, eyes raking over your face with pleasure, "You wanna tell me who's making you feel this good?"

"You," you said with a shaky breath.

He pouted in an act of hurt, "I need a name sweetheart. You remember my name, don't you?"

You panted, heat blossoming at your core again, desperate on the sound of his voice, and the weight of his cock inside of you.

"Wanna call me by your sweet little nickname again?"

You sucked in your bottom lip, squirming for more. He slapped your ass, stinging the skin in a threat.

"Cassie- please I-" you felt yourself falling apart at the seams, " Y' the only one that c'n make me feel this good, Cassie."

He reclined back into his straightened position behind you, tugging you up with him by your hair. He embraced his arms around you, his dominant hand wrapping around your throat.

"I've got you, pretty girl."

His hips fucked himself into you roughly, setting a sloppy pace. Your brain was putty, fogged with the nature in which he held you, spoke to you, fucked you.

It was all a dream. You'd wake up, and the phantom touch of Cassian's large hands would be a disappointment.

Because there was no way in Prythian such a man like him was real.

Your mind only drifted back down to your body to rekindle itself with the impending override of pleasure. Tightening, your whole body clenched, holding Cassian's length like a vice.

His hips faltered, the restraint with which you clamped onto him slowing his movement.

Cassian moaned loudly, the noise bouncing off the walls like the ringing of a bell, "So fucking tight.. 'm gonna cum. Where- fuck.. Where do you want it?"

"Inside," you cried, "Cassian."

He lost himself, holding you ever more tightly, his cock striking the spot that made you see stars. Your body coiled, fingertips digging into his forearms, needing to feel him.

The tightening of his hand around your throat was your undoing.

That string inside of you, holding you to the realm in which you resided, snapped as your walls sputtered around him.

You screamed his name, drowning in the way his hips careened into you, spilling his hot seed deep inside of you. The roar that paired with the sensation made your vision fuzzy, body limp against his arms.

Five, ten minutes. You couldn't tell how long you panted there with him, helpless to your surroundings.

Cassian steadily let you fall down onto the couch, careful as he pulled out of you, quick to rush around through the closets adoring your hall, finding a washcloth.

You faintly heard the running of water before he came back, a warm, damp washcloth in hand and cleaned you up with a sweet touch.

He got up to dump it off, stalling when he heard your call.

"Cassian."

He turned around, "Yes?"

The moment was stunned, making you wonder if it was all just some hallucination.

"Stay with me?"

Cassian watched you, his big brown eyes filled with something you had never seen before; not with Mor -- not with anyone.

And maybe when Mor had sounded incredulous at your accusations, that Cassian hated you, maybe she wasn't as crazy as she seemed.

And that golden string which you had never noticed seemed to strengthen. It seemed to flourish, expand, and stabilize your souls in a perfectly balanced limbo.

Cassian.

"As you wish."

•--•

ACOTAR Masterlist

#dexthtoyounglings: the archive #dexthtoyounglings #acotar x reader #acotar x reader smut #acotar smut #cassian x reader #cassian x reader smut #cassian smut #cassian acotar smut #cassian acotar x reader #cassian acotar x reader smut

47 notes · View notes