#I have been seeing more masks in the wild this week | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nastybuckybarnes · 2 months ago

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Street Mouse

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

Summary:

Warnings: Language, Violence, Minor Angst, Hinted attempted assault, fluff, military inaccuracies (teehee)

Word Count: 2.3K

A/n: i've got a whole bunch written for this pairing, and i might make some hc explanations. I've never played COD, sue me. I hope y'all enjoy and I'm gonna probably keep pumping out more parts of this cause i love love love it.

~*~

The distant sound of gunshots is akin to a lullaby now.

You're curled up in a rundown building, a tattered blanket draped over your legs as you try to get some rest.

The sound of more gunshots, these ones much closer, jolt you upright.

Risking a glance out the broken window, you peer down at the street below you, eyes widening as you see two men fighting intensely.

Your heart jumps into your throat at the display, and you can't tear your eyes away.

Eventually, the larger of the two plunges a knife into the smaller man, watching as his body crumples to the ground in a heap.

A shiver races down Simon's back, and he straightens, eyes carefully scanning the area for danger.

He turns around, glancing into each window before finally resting on the eyes he could feel piercing through his gear. His hand twitches toward one of the many weapons strapped to his body, but something about the wild curiosity in her eyes has him pausing.

You hold his gaze, unblinking and absolutely entranced.

He's a huge man, with a skull mask covering his face. Only his eyes are visible, and they all but gaze through your soul. He holds the staring contest, turning to face you fully until there's a soft grunt from behind him.

He glances over his shoulder as his comrade comes into view, and when he glances back at the building, you're gone.

He turns back to Soap slowly, risking one more glance over his shoulder, but it's as if you were never there in the first place.

"What is it? Ya see somethin', Lt?"

Ghost says nothing, only starts heading back the way he came, pausing to rid the corpse on the street of the weapons he was carrying.

You slowly peek out the window again, watching as the two disappear into the darkness of the night.

For weeks, maybe months, the country you now call home has been war-torn.

Schools have long since shut down, and the majority of the population has fled to find refuge elsewhere.

Which makes it a perfect place to hide.

And even though you know you should be keeping a low profile, you can't help but be intrigued by the skull-faced man.

And so you begin to follow him.

The streets are familiar now, as are the schedules of the soldiers and the hostiles.

Which is how you find yourself here.

You're not dumb enough to follow him onto the base or anywhere near it, but in the city when he's on patrol, those hours are all yours to observe.

Your curiosity does have you venturing farther outside of your comfort zone than you normally would, but it pays off every time your eyes meet.

And he's not oblivious to the new eyes that seem to be following him whenever he's in the city. Sure, he's gotten used to the locals staring whenever any of them walk through the streets, but these eyes aren't afraid or hostile. No, these ones are curious. Excited.

The next time he feels the gaze on him, he's outside at just past one in the morning, puffing on a cigarette in one of the few safer areas of the city. Goosebumps rise on his skin and he flicks the end of his cigarette, watching as the ash floats to the ground.

"As much as you try, you're not going to sneak up on me," He says softly, flicking his cigarette onto the ground and crushing it with the steel toe of his boot.

You say nothing, only watch curiously from the second floor of the house he's leaning against.

He turns around, backing up a few paces as his eyes dart from window to window, searching for your face until finally, they land on you.

"Show yourself."

You cock your head to the side, eyes shining in the moonlight.

"Come on, I won't hurt you, but I won't ask again," he warns.

A little grin pulls at your lips and you lean forward in the moonlight, not enough to fully show yourself, but enough for him to see the outline of your face.

You shake your head at him and bring your hand up to the side of your head. With your pointer and middle finger extended, you curl your ring and pinky finger in, pointing the faux gun at your head.

'Bang,' you mouth, knocking your head to the side dramatically.

Ghost lets out a breathy chuckle at your theatrics, his hands resting on his tactical belt.

"Why have you been following me?" He finally asks.

He's not one to second guess himself, not after all he's seen, all that he's endured. But he has to give you credit - you made him question his sanity for a day or two there.

Knowing that you're real, that someone has, in fact, been following him, puts his mind at ease.

You give him a soft smile then lean forward and press your lips to the glass.

He stares at the kiss mark left on the window, traces the soft pink mark with his eyes and then looks back up to where your eyes were, only to find that you've disappeared once again.

Simon Riley is a man who prides himself on his attention to detail, his situational awareness. But he cannot, for the life of him, understand how you manage to disappear into thin air like that.

This starts happening more and more frequently. Little run-ins, kisses left on windows, your twinkling eyes in the pale moonlight.

It's gotten to the point where he volunteers to go out on patrol if only for the possibility of catching a glimpse of your pretty eyes hidden between shadows.

And soon enough, the drawings start to appear.

The first one is drawn on a window, and he doesn't even notice it. Soap is the one who points it out.

"Look, Lt, looks like you've got a fan," he says, pointing to the window across the ally.

He glances over, following Soap's finger, and his brows raise.

On the window, drawn in what looks like marker, is a skull that matches the hard-plated mask on his face.

He scoffs, but deep down, he knows exactly who put that there. His suspicions are confirmed when he catches a lightning-quick glimpse of your eyes peeking through the curtains.

He starts seeing them more often. It surprises him how you manage to get into some of the most dangerous parts of the city and leave nothing but a skull drawing behind.

What really gets him, however, is one particular day, when they're tasked with a particular assignment.

Hostage rescue.

But the exact location of the hostages is unknown.

That is, until he notices little skulls drawn on the windows of one building. More skulls than he's ever seen you draw before.

Trusting his gut, he nods toward the building, signalling for his team to follow him as he approaches.

Sure enough, the skulls lead them better than breadcrumbs exactly to the hostages, and the hostiles are taken out quickly.

"How did you know it was this one?" Gaz asks once the building is secure, leaning outside with his Lieutenant as he lights up a cigarette.

He takes a long drag from it the blows out a cloud of smoke, his eyes flickering around in search of his helper.

"A little mouse told me," is his reply.

Never one to question his Lt, Gaz only nods and heads back inside to meet up with Soap.

As he smokes, Ghost notices a small piece of paper fluttering in the wind, half hidden beneath a rock on the ground.

Crouching down, he picks it up and unfolds it, scoffing out a chuckle.

On it is none other than one of your signature skulls. His little Banksy.

With his cigarette tucked between his lips, he grabs a pen from his breast pocket and scribbles down a half-assed picture on the paper, then tucks it beneath the rock one more time.

Though he can't see you, he knows you're nearby. He can feel your ever-present gaze.

"Ghost! Let's go!" Price calls from inside.

Tossing his cigarette onto the ground, Ghost turns on his heel and heads back inside to meet up with his team.

His back is turned for what feels like only seconds, but when he glances over his shoulder to check on the paper it's already gone.

~*~

You don't see the man with the skull face for a while after that, but you keep his drawing on you at all times.

It serves as a pleasant little reminder that life isn't so bad. Not all the time.

Your thoughts are shattered when you bump into a hard chest, tumbling to the ground with a grunt.

The night may be dark, but the moon shines brightly enough above you to illuminate the back alley you were sneaking through.

"Well, well, boys. Look what we've got here," the man says, a sick grin on his face.

He wears a similar uniform that your skull-faced soldier does, but this man's eyes are sick and snake-like. They send a shudder racing down your spine as you scramble back, scraping your hands on the ground until your back hits a wall.

"It's a long time past curfew, sweet cheeks. What're you doing out so late?" The ringleader asks, stepping closer to tower over you while his comrades circle around you, leaving you with no escape.

One of them grabs your arms and yanks you to your feet in front of them, and your heart almost jumps out of your chest.

The leader drags a dirty finger down your cheek, his brows drawing together when you yank your head back.

"I asked you a question, bitch," he snarls, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to keep your head where he wants it.

You glare up at him, then spit directly in his face, watching with satisfaction as he flinches back.

He chuckles after a moment, squeezing your face harder and glancing at his friends.

"Looks like we've got a fighter. That's okay, we know what to do with those, don't we, boys?" He asks.

This elicits chuckles from the men around you, and you feel your stomach drop.

"Do we?"

The voice is like the crack of a whip in a still room, and the laughter stops immediately.

The men beside you straighten up, hands coming up in salute.

Like water dousing a flame, you feel some of your fear ease at the newcomer.

"Tell me, Corporal, just what might we do with those?" Ghost asks, stepping out of the shadows.

"Lieutenant! We were just... this street rat was out past curfew," the man holding your chin tries to reason, quickly dropping your face.

Ghost nods, looking between the men, his eyes scanning over their names before finally resting on your eyes.

"This is what you lot spend your nights doing? Terrorizing the locals? The people we're supposed to be helping?" He asks, stepping even closer.

The tension grows thick, and you watch as the man in front of you turns around to face his superior.

Ghost chuckles dryly, the sound lacking any humour.

"You know bloody well what we do to terrorists, Corporal," he whispers, his voice deadly, dangerous.

"Now, would you care to explain to me what exactly you were doing to this nice young lady?" He asks again.

You stare up at his icy blue eyes as he makes the man cower, absolutely bewildered and warm inside.

"She's out past curfew," the Corporal tries again, his voice whiny and afraid.

Ghost nods, "and if I remember correctly, we give the citizens a warning and escort them home, we don't corner them against a wall and try to have our way with them. Or did you miss that day of training?"

The soldier's mouth opens and closes several times, but Ghost stays stoically staring at him, gaze sharp enough to kill.

"I asked you a question, Corporal, and I expect an answer!" He snarls, stepping into the man's personal space.

"There's a place for scum like you, and it's not on my team. You're removed, go back to base." His eyes find the other men, "if I ever catch you lot in the city pulling a stunt like this again, I won't be so forgiving. Dismissed."

With that final word, the three men all but sprint away, leaving you alone with the man who's consumed your every thought for the past several weeks.

He watches the men leave, and you're tempted to make your escape.

As if reading your mind, his gaze snaps back to you and his head cocks to the side.

"Even you can't go everywhere unseen, can you, mouse?" He asks.

You blink up at him, your heart racing in your chest.

He watches you for a moment longer, his brows drawing together.

"You speak English?"

You blink up at him again and he sighs, "Christ."

Slowly, you reach into the pocket of your sweater and pull out a piece of paper, opening it up and showing it to him.

His lips twitch upward when he sees his scribbled mouse next to the skull you've drawn.

"Mouse," you whisper, touching the paper.

He nods, pointing to the little drawing.

"Mouse. S'what you are. Quick, hard to catch."

You cock your head to the side and he takes that moment to take you in.

Since that first day, he's imagined what you look like, what you really look like, and he has to admit, he's not disappointed.

You're pretty, lovely even. If circumstances were different... if he were to see you in a bar, he might buy you a drink, ask for your number.

But you're a local, a street mouse, and he's here on business.

He gently pushes the paper back into your grasp and takes a small step back.

"You keep yourself safe. Try to stay out of the streets after curfew." He turns his back to you and takes a step away, then pauses.

"Or at least don't get caught."

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gazeofseer · 10 days ago

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𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍?

𓇼🐚☾☼🦪 🎀🫶🏻💌💓

••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°••....••

Texas, Australia, United States and California, You are a queer by soul who lives by their own even amongst the crowded room, seeking something as distant and indifferent to what seems the same after all, but subtle do you fear the idea behind crossing lines, edges that drew scars around your borderline of heart the reason you easily withdraw the click and connection with places and people, you feel everything should be new as each passing moment because anything that stay longer bored you because you feed in daydreams and expect teh same dosh to be served outside around you, but all you taste is something different but not you.

Guidance : You are looking for yourself from within by blocking all the external settings and invites believing the world to be a harm to your existence throughout your journey down the lane to changing seasons and places so far, now you are just tired and tormented wanting to settle but truly can't keeps you restless.

Leo sun, Aries Rising, 8, Saturn in 9th house, Silver accessories, Denim Jeans, You brought something last week still waiting to be worn.

I see you are not only brain fogging but also bloating with overwhelming thoughts and emotions at the same time because you want but you don't, you don't but you want so badly, you have been guided to not make any decision right now, and not to hang in either, changes kept happening, but you are holding something beyond it did. It could be a little picture or a memory too, let it go to where it belongs it will harm you in the long run. Stop sitting with disappointment, disgrace or insult. Let that find peace within you and embrace these changes as a chance for you to strike this fog with the sword of your consciousness on if the very next second you would die, what will you do in the given second of the moment? Chose what is right, and needed for now that is how you lead life always rightly despite the wrong being gifted.

Netherland, Germany, Scotland, Denver & Amsterdam, there are eerie chills to your soul which plays chivilrious in the darkness and acts demure in the light, like a nasty kid you carry the flaws around the forest creeks but throw a elegant gaze the moment a eye flickers upon you, the mask of basking in solitude feels so enchanting enough to thrive through life beyond its hardship and pain, you take it as gift for the one who got none even sorrow becomes the only life present before.

Guidance : The ostracized child, who was not even a count nor in the quantity or quality leave the first and last of being a choice but never an part of any option to even begin with? I feel you started to heal enough that you understand the value of pain you received so far and treat it exactly right that it has become your that safe home which strengthens you instead to tame, instead of guidance your spirit guides have messages 'That, we really appreciate your pure heart and acknowledge your being of existence as of great as of the any other living, we are around you, when you believe you are lucky enough after seeing something weird l, quirky and unique because that is who you are and we show up there'

Fox teddy, bear, herbivores, cozy vibes, brown eyes, eyeglasses, Aquarius Venus, Capricorn Venus or sun, writing a novel or blog, secret lover.

Paris, France, Italy, London, Russia and South Korea, What beauty of it doesn't scares a bit right? It took you a trail blaze or ages to burn down and pave one path for you that fire runs through your body despite the sickness you feel in your heart and fatigue you carry on your soul, the more you get tested the more pure you mold into the miracles and become the magic itself, you accept the essence of love, that sets free, wild and at the arms of death where one can love so truly to the depths of each feels and moves of life.

Guidance : Okay, so this pile has been through a lot bodily or mentally the sickness which prolonged seems like a default, or your mistake or an accident which made you be on bed for rest and feel this helplessness from the echoes of the room and beyond the sky where slowly you discovered and connected to your soul and learned the ultimate truth of being all that you need to yourself exactly when you need yourself.

'Hey, sorry to interrupt I am just worried and kind off ..sorry again how are you? I hope you are doing well now, I promise I am on my way please, kindly don't give upon me, for that I have not yet arrived into your life, all the lovers you met were the lie you told yourself to hold yourself tight in your head, but let go the grudge and find me within your heart whenever you look into the mirror with those doe eyes, those two flicks of your hair curls around you ear I did kiss those cheeks with freckles and toughened skin, I did hold you like the witch who carries her wretched wand in her power and strength, I love you, can you hear that, I say that everyday before you sleep'

Well, that was tear jerking right? Give me a second.

Important Updated my services list do check (;

#Spotify #divine feminine #divination #divine guidance #pyschic reading #gratitude #intutive reading #pick a pile #pick a image #pick a card #free tarot reading #tarot cards #witchy #happy winter

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neil-gaiman · 7 months ago

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Hi Neil.

I know you are flooded with asks and this somehow became extremely long. Too long. “Why am I suddenly telling this poor man my life story?” too long. “I think I’d rather he work on the GO3 script than read this wild beast” too long. “He’s going to think you’re criminally dangerously insane” too long. If you never get to it, I’m good with never seeing a response from you. Maybe it’s better that way? Maybe an anon would have been nice here. But, it’s 2024, so I say “we ball.” It’s a privilege to be able to send this to you at all. You get a lot to this effect and I hope they give you good feels, so maybe what’s the harm, yeah? Because this is not an ask. This is a thank you letter.

First, thanks for reblogging my therapist post, I hope it amused you. I nearly sent you “How am i supposed to explain this to my therapist?!” But refrained. At that time.

So, therapy. What is therapy really? Well…

Things have been really rotten for as long as I can remember. Bad health, bad doctors, bad relationships, bad coping mechanisms, bad all kinds of things. (Yeah, bad is a weak and unhelpful word, my therapist reminds me, but we’re doing this.)

Well, things got even more really really rotten and BAD these last few years. Health declined further, coping mechanisms declined further and more intensely, packed up my life, applied for disability, moved back in with my parents across the country.

Then 4 years ago last week I watched my fiance die of a sudden heart attack. I was 29. Two years later my best friend died. Then last summer I sauntered vaguely into a cancer scare. Not long before an operation my cat who has been my companion through so much garbage died as well. I’m not entirely in the clear on the cancer scare front. All my attempts at going back to work, volunteering, going to grad school - they collapsed on me because I couldn’t get through this STUFF.

(Sometimes when I talk about this, when I tell people, I think “they are going to think you are a raging pathological liar.” Because I’m not sure I would believe someone if they told me all of this happened to them. In such a short time period. All before they were 35. And hell if that hasn’t been isolating. You know how it sounds? Lonely. And it is.)

I did the hypervigilant and sensation/experience chasing stage of PTSD. It got me in a lot of trouble in all kinds of ways. I had to do a lot of medical and psych advocating because things kept getting worse. That was exhausting. Then that peaked. I went into the thick of the “I feel absolutely nothing” stage for a long time. I didn’t feel fatigue or hunger or thirst. Not people, feelings, a reason. Not hope.

But of course, like seems be for a lot of us, I somehow found Good Omens at just the right time. I was a very “I’m so cool and intellectual I mostly consume non-fiction media” person for too long. Like, what? How is that even a real thing? And it wasn’t real. It was just part of this curated autism mask that I don’t think anyone really bought anyway.

I think I got to a point where I’d just had too much reality. I needed fantasy. I didn’t realize I always needed it. But I denied myself for too many odd and painful reasons. Maybe I thought it was an escape I didn’t deserve.

But as it turns out, it wasn’t an escape. I watched both seasons last fall, and then this light came on. I watched it again and again.

I came to tumblr because I needed more. I found this fandom. I stepped into this beautiful world of fanart and fanfiction and brain flexing meta writing and a sense of community and wonder that you and Terry created - that everyone involved in the show inflated - exploded in the right way - like fireworks if fireworks were some kind of autocatalytic reaction - a self perpetuating force.

It’s not a “saved my life” feeling. Not a “getting my life back” feeling. It’s been a “maybe it’s time for you to have the life you’ve always been denied - that you’ve denied yourself” feeling.

I’m creating. I’m not “great” yet. Not terribly “good” at all. Maybe “behind” as far as the “proper” timeline for starting. I know there isn’t one, not really, but boy does that society machine make ya feel like there is. And sure, I started and stopped a lot in the past. But the second it got hard I always gave up. I felt like if I didn’t get it “right” to begin with, then I just didn’t have it in me at all. But for once I’m really in it. I’m writing and trying to draw things that look less like fever dream five year old drawings. (Not that there’s anything wrong with those, is there? 🙃) I’m eating better. I’m sleeping better. I reach out to old friends more. I’ve made new friends who share this love of Good Omens.

My therapist has been floored by the change in me. After that first funny mini flop, he has been so encouraging about it. I saw him this week and I said “Maybe this is helping me get prepared to start living again. Maybe it’s a springboard.” And he honest to god said “But You ARE living. This is YOU LIVING. Why does it have to be a springboard? Why do you have to turn this into ‘work?’ Just let yourself have this for once in your life.”

But there were two more added elements that made it all work. And I can’t help but think this whole brainrot thing wouldn’t have happened without them. So many things just happened all at just the right time - a proper coincidence.

In all of the madness of the last few years I finally got the memo that I'm autistic. i figured I was for a while. But it finally sunk in for me and my docs and my people. So I’d been working on unpacking that. Grieving the life that could have been entirely different, shedding the mask. I let myself hyperfixate openly instead of hiding it and hating myself for “spiralling” or “obsessing” like others -!like ‘I’ always punished myself for before we knew that it was a trait and not a personality flaw.

Then over the last few months my therapist and I started trying this new exercise. One session he stopped me and said “in the last 20 minutes you have responded to what I’ve said with 9 ‘I knows.’” My response to that? “Ugh, I know.” So we started this “I know” swear jar type situation. Really, I’ve been afraid of not knowing. I couldn’t let myself “not know.” Because it meant I was “dumb.” I was just drowning for so long in guilt and self loathing for the “I knew better and screwed up anyway.” Or “I should’ve known better - I should know that by now.”

As it turns out, there’s a lot of things I don’t know. That I didn’t know. Things I will never know. And refusing to admit all of that kept me from learning a damn thing. Kept me from asking questions. Kept me from trying new things because it was scary to do something new - something unknown - and I "knew" how it would all turn out anyway. Kept me from connecting with people because it was painful or embarrassing when they knew things I didn’t and it seemed like I already should have. Kept me from getting better at making art, music, writing. Kept me from forgiving myself. Kept me from growing. And kept me from moving forward. Maybe not on. I don’t know if we ever “move on” from things. But we can move forward as we carry them. And as we do, the weight gets less. We’re able to carry it better. But only if we can admit that we don’t know how. Only if we don’t treat ourselves like this is something we do know or should know and we’re just failing because we’re less than. Not good enough. Not strong enough. Not deserving. We have to be able to say “I don’t know how to do this.” And then we can start looking for the answers. We can ask. We can learn.

I thought about the apple. Being able to tell the difference between good and evil. Aziraphale’s years and years of watching what he “knows” to be true be proven wrong. Crowley’s need to ask questions…

The simple and enormous gift of “Knowledge.” The “Knowledge” of the difference between Good and Evil. The “Knowledge” that can only be gained by realizing, accepting, admitting that there are things we don’t know. Asking the questions. Sometimes we get answers we don’t like. Sometimes the consequences of asking hurt us. And unless you want to stay in that painful place that painful knowledge got you, well, you’ve got to let yourself learn how to get out.

So all of this good? I never expected this. I never thought I deserved it. Joy and belonging and this sense that “Yeah, maybe things can get better. Maybe things can be good.” Because I said those things, not truly believing them, to the people I thought needed to hear it. But it couldn’t save them. It was hollow. The proof for us wasn’t really in our orbit or on our radar at the time. And now they’re gone.

People always say “it’s never too late.”

One of the people I lost said “it’s later than you think.”

I jokingly would respond “it’s already too late.”

It was for him in the end. For them. For some people I guess it really is. But maybe a lot of the “too late” people are there because they think “they know” that things will never be good for them. So they stop looking, they stop asking, stop finding. And eventually they just stop.

Then there came Crowley’s “It’s always too late.” The first time I heard it I thought “For sure, Crowley-cakes, I KNOW.”

But then…I just needed to rewatch the whole thing. And lines like that…familiar things…familiar themes…I was suddenly identifying with these characters. I suddenly saw myself. And the realization hit - I connected with something! Something new. And I FELT THAT. And that tiny little crack that made in the wall was just enough to start breaking it down. Yeah, when you start letting yourself feel after not feeling for so long, opening up to the good feelings means opening up to feelings and then the bad ones come out too. But when there IS good … it helps you balance. You can deal with the bad a little better because you’ve got the good thing to lean against when it gets too much. And now you’ve got feelings. You’ve got good and bad. You’ve got sticky foggy grey. You’ve got life.

Whew.

So, TLDR, thank you. From the bottom of my slowly healing heart, thank you.

And to sign off with some shits and giggles… I couldn’t find this in existence as a sticker so I had to custom order. Perhaps this will spread misery and panic among the humans of my city - or at least a malignant and creepy sense of unease.

Or maybe they’ll say “wtf” and go home and google it and they’ll fall into the Good Omens hole they never knew they needed too.

Thank you for this. I never quite know what to say to messages like this apart from I am really glad that it helps. (It becomes the weird extra piece that I worry about when writing season 3 -- hoping that it will be that thing again. Not just a story, but something that helps people feel and helps with healing and helps with love.)

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arlertwhore · 5 months ago

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draft #1: sneaky link series, pt. 7

completed draft - not a part, a draft - meaning there is technically no pt 7. i have no issues with people taking it as pt 7though.

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! “sneaky link” reader.

warning(s): angsty, argument / breakup, fluff, smut, scissoring, pussy eating, fingering, spitting, hair-pulling, unedited.

synopsis: Despite your admission of feelings, Paige still wants to keep you as her secret. However, as the threat of discovery looms and you grow close with someone else, she jealously realizes she doesn't want anyone to think you don't belong to her. Even if you remain a secret, you are undeniably hers.

word count: 7.1k (what happens when ana's creativity fights to not fight)

Author Note: first ever draft i'm dropping AH! i'm so weirded out that i'm leaving this series unfinished (for now) and posting something this trash, but i think its what best for me. like i said, this isn't an official pt . 7, it's just a draft, but i have no issue if i get an inbox we can talk about like its an off pt 7 yk?? you guys are also so free to leave ideas for pt. 8 and 7 in my dms, inbox, etc.. so if i return i can get back into the groove!

Paige, after a week of ghosting, suddenly texts: "Good News", and despite being frustrated with her, you're desperate for a study break in studying for your last exam of the year and some positivity, so you quickly respond: "?"

She tells you her old friend from Minnesota, Serena, is in town for the week at a hotel while her soccer team plays Connecticut, and she's allowing Paige to use the hotel room while she's away due to her losing a bet.

You respond with a terse "Cool", and Paige's response hangs in the air, marked by those ominous three dots. After an agonizing pause, her next text arrives: "See you by tomorrow night?"

And although you're betraying every emotion you've had at the frustration of paige ghosting you the whole week, you say, "yeah."

You felt like a total idiot for believing that perhaps now that she'd confessed, Paige would stop running from it. You should've been wiser, given your history with Paige, but the thrilling days that followed your vulnerable confession of feelings deceived you. They were a dizzying whirlwind of happiness, lulling you into a false sense of security, and masking the reality of her true intentions.

You and Paige had a fast romance, resembling a newlywed couple's bliss. You strolled hand-in-hand through the neighborhood, enjoyed family movie nights, and explored the mall together. She even surprised you with intimate gifts, like delicate lingerie, which she eagerly removed in the privacy of your bedroom. Those days were filled with laughter, love, and a sense of security, free from the fear of rejection that once plagued you. Your connection deepened so much that Paige even let you take her with her strap, a thrilling milestone in your relationship.

The experience was magical, but as the school week began, reality hit hard, and Paige, as she always did, resumed the cycle. She seemed to have perfected the art of creating distance. Her texts became short and infrequent, she stopped answering your calls, and just ghosted you.

You were crushed: you made it clear on the week she did ghost you that you hated when she did that, and the fact she ignored your pleas and chose to cowardly avoid everything was heartbreaking. But at least you had your new roommate, Maggie, to distract you. After growing up with a wayward sister, Maggie was your first taste of what a healthy sibling relationship could be like. She was everything you weren’t—energetic, popular, outgoing, and the life of every party—your polar opposite, and her presence brought a refreshing contrast to your life.

She filled your evenings with wild stories of campus drama and an endless supply of party interesting anecdotes. And also, piping hot gossip that you were more than amused by until one night, when Maggie stumbled into your room back from a party, reeking of alcohol and giggling uncontrollably.

"Paige Bueckers, aka Ms. Hollywood, is allegedly hooking up with some mysterious girl on campus who claims to be straight."

Your heart skipped a beat: you had never claimed to straight before.

And also, both of your entire life's focus had been on your careers, and this rumor had potentially to be extremely damaging to your professional prospects. Especially for you — you had worked tirelessly to build a respectable image, and the thought of being linked to Paige's scandalous behavior was daunting.

You played it cool, dismissing the rumor with a nonchalant laugh: "Oh, really? People say crazy things." But inside, you were turmoil-stricken, unable to reveal the truth to Maggie due to Paige's strict secrecy and dislike of her for being a blabbermouth.

Maggie shrugged, "Well, Paige is in trouble; social media's onto her, and they're searching for her mystery girl. Apparently, they even go clubbing together." Your heart sank, knowing this was all too true. As exams approached, you pushed aside the rumors and pretended to be too busy to care, all while secretly suffering in silence, worried about the potential fallout on your career.

So, when you pulled up to "Serena's" hotel the next day, really Paige's place, you were exhausted, beaten down by her behavior, the looming rumors, and the fact that you had probably bombed your exam that night. You couldn't have been acting more out of character, bursting through the hotel door and pushing past Paige, who stood awaiting your acknowledgment in the foyer.

"Is there anything to drink? Maggie drank every last drop of alcohol in the house." you called out, voice laced with desperation and a hint of frustration, as if the scarcity of alcohol was the final straw in a long series of disappointments.

"Me?" she whispered softly as she crept up behind you in the kitchen, wrapping her arms around your waist with a gentle kiss to your neck. "Or Rose. In the fridge. You're lucky S I'm sharin'; S got it for us tonight." The warmth of her embrace and the sweetness of her kiss sent a buzz down your spine, momentarily distracting you from the fact she was everything wrong these days too.

"Oh, is that why you've been ignoring me? For Rose, Serena —because Paige, if we're being honest," you said, pulling away from her and striding over to the fridge to grab the coveted bottle, "I don't like sharing either."

There's a tense and awkward momentary silence as you stretch to reach the glass from up-top the shelf, and Paige approaches, her hand resting on your lower back, and her breath on your scalp. "We've both been busy - I'm not ignoring you, alright?" she says in a low, defensive murmur, her gentle touch sparking a flutter in your chest, making it hard to maintain your frustration.

Together, you manage to retrieve the glasses, but her gentle gesture has already disarmed you, and the tension between you shifts, your defenses slowly dropping, a fragile facade crumbling under the weight of her.

"I miss you even when we're together." you admit, looking up at her with a vulnerable gaze, your eyes locking onto hers as you bare your soul, the weight of your words conveying the constant fear of losing her, the ache of knowing that external pressures and expectations can tear you apart at any moment, and the desperation to hold on to her, even when she's right in front of you.

"I've had the worst fucking week, and- I spent most of my time in bed and not studying, thinking about why I could make you confess, but not... not stay with me." The pain in your voice as you reveal the turmoil that's been consuming you, and the desperate desire for her presence in your life is felt mutually.

"Okay," you whisper shakily, feeling tears prick at the way Paige looks at you, mutually, like she feels the same, but where you can see her resistance up still. And you know you'll never win. You have to stop thinking you can.

"I'll drink my feelings away, and then we're gonna fuck to get it off my mind, and we're never gonna bring this up again." your voice cracks as you surrender to the defeat, seeking temporary escape.

You pour the rose in both your glasses, and Paige stands back watching, knowing that this is exactly what's happening. She's suppressing her inner fear and has no choice but to acquiesce, and not say anything because she told you her rules at the beginning, and fears if she says anything, it'll be from her heart because it hurts her as much as it hurts you.

She's trapped in her own emotions, unable to express her true feelings, and resigned to silently follow the script you've both agreed upon.

"Cheers," you say, raising your glass, and she looks confused, but reluctantly clinks your glasses together and watches through a slow sip as you down it and then pour yourself some more. The alcohol burns your throat, but you welcome the numbness, trying to dull the ache in your chest.

Paige's gaze lingers, melancholy, but more neutral, as she silently acknowledges the change in you, trying to read to lightheartedly conversate.

"I see Maggie's introduced you to the lifestyle. You guys still getting close?'' her voice is subtly clad with a hint of detachment, an attempt to shift the focus away from the tension between you, and onto a more casual topic, but her underlying concern and curiosity are both still evident.

You nod, your eyes focalled on the alchol in your glass. "Yeah, she- we're thinking of doing a double date thing and I was gonna ask you before - y'know, but I guess it's pointless even though she already kinda knows."

You mention the fact - y'know - that you guys just suffered a breakup without even being together in a very odd manner, and that that is the weirdest thing ever. Well, to Paige, the second strangest thing of the night - the third is that how you broached the subject courageously in the first place, and the first: "Maggie knows?" she repeats, "Did you tell her?" a slight accusatory tone to her voice, her eyes narrowing slightly as she sets her glass down, her gaze fixed intently on yours, as if searching for any sign of betrayal or deceit.

"Everything." you whisper, jokingly confessing and shaking your head at her ridiculous pissed face (that's also sorta hot).

Paige glares back at you, serious and you furrow your brows, feeling the alcohol hitting you already. "Shit, what do they put in here?" you ask, checking the label for the alcohol volume, when Paige snatches it out of your reach and demands, "I'm serious, Y/N, what'd you-"

"Nothing!" you interrupt, exploding, "Nothing, Paige, there is fucking nothing to tell Maggie because all of this," you notion back and forth between you two, face-to-face, "Is nothing! What would I tell her, huh? That you don't text me for days on end and shit like that?" Your words spill out in a frenzy, the alcohol fueling your emotional release in the opposite sense you wanted it to.

Paige hates how that's supposed to comfort her, but instead makes her feel belittled and trivialized as she processes, now reaching for her own glass to forget about what you just told her - that you guys are "nothing." The word stings, a harsh reminder of the boundaries she's set, and the apparent insignificance of their connection in your eyes. She takes a swig, the rose souring her throat, as she struggles to reconcile the conflicting emotions within her.

Pretty soon, because you guys are weird and perfect for each-other, you're in bed and dealing with your conflicting emotions in a thoroughly unproductive way.

Paige kisses down your neck, hands roaming over you with a fervor in her eyes like she had the day at the bar, but now, times ten, and mixed in with something new. As she's stripping off your pants and kissing down your legs, she's still doing that thing where she murmurs vague stuff she knows she can deny if you try to confront her later. "So pretty, baby," she whispers, spreading your legs apart and kissing your calf, "My pretty baby." If not for the desire you have to get fucked out of your own brain, you would probably tell Paige to stop entirely or just stop saying that, but you can't, especially because it at least feels good to pretend that all just didn't happen.

By now, you've had plenty of rose, a lot more than Paige has, and under the spell of alcohol, every sensation she evokes in you feels better than the last. The room spins, and your senses blur, but Paige's touch is the one thing that feels lucid, the one thing that makes sense in this haze of emotions and alcohol.

Before Paige can put her mouth to use on you, the bedroom door is bursted open, and the once muffled call of her name that you're too tipsy to register becomes audible. "Paige! Bro, practice is cancelled, let's go-" she suddenly crashes in, who you can only assume is Serena, and walks in on the compromising sight and exclaims, "Oh shit!" standing there in awe as Paige scrambles for your clothes to cover yourself, furious, "Get out!"

She storms, jumps out of bed and slams the door in her face. The sudden movement makes your head spin, and you wince, the loudness reeling in your head from the alcohol and the abrupt interruption.

When Paige sees you lying still, eyes shut in what looks like anguish, she rushes over to you, apologetic. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, she's- she's obviously not supposed to be here as you just heard and-" - "It's fine." you interrupt, gathering your clothes hastily and getting out of bed. Once again, Paige has let you down, and it annoys the both of you equally. "Call me," you say, your tone indifferent, "Or don't."

You go to open the door and rush away before Paige can stop you, but Serena awaits on the other side, and you pause, dissecting her.

You were going to be jealous over this girl until you realize she's like Paige, just a little less tall, a lot less blonde, and skinnier. She isn't her type and she's masculine too, to your delight, and not because of Paige and her not being compatible, but at the fact its your type.

"Sorry," she says cheekily, "I thought she was here to take a break from the team."

Serena smirks, amused. "I mean, I guess she was." and her eyes linger at the hickey on your neck. The implication is clear, and you feel a flush rise to your cheeks as you try to brush it off, the alcohol still clouding your judgment.

"Y/N," you laugh, smiling, "I'm sorry, I- I drank all your rose tonight, and you just saw me kind of naked, so probably not a great way to start things off." you chuckle, trying to play off the awkwardness, and she smiles, exposing pearly whites, and seeming to appreciate your honesty and humor.

"Oh trust me, I couldn't mind less." and you can't figure out which way she means it before she continues again, "But... if you had too much rose, I don't just wanna send you driving home with a stranger. And better yet, by yourself. You're welcome to stay the night if you want to." her tone is genuine, and you hesitate for a moment, weighing your options, before nodding in agreement, grateful for her kindness.

Paige is forced to watch her Serena clearly court you over the night, dressing you in her oversized t-shirt and shorts, and giving you some cold water as you guys converse on the couch in the living room. She does need time to herself after the alcohol begins to wear off and she begins to think about the consequences of her actions, the weight of her emotions, and the reality of her situation with you, but she can't do that logically while hearing you giggle and laugh at everything Serena says.

When she emerges from the bedroom, realizing she can get a rise out of Serena too, you both glance at her like she's intruding once she plops down at the couch in the living room. Serena laughs. "Yo, are you- you staying here tonight?" she asks, her tone playful, but also hinting at a sense of not wanting Paige too, as if she's making her rethink her choice, and maybe even staking a claim on you, much to Paige's dismay.

"Well, yeah, that's the plan for the week, S," she says, eyes darting between you two, "Unless you guys want the house all to yourselves." Paige's tone is laced with a hint of sarcasm and a dash of curiosity, as if she's testing the waters, gauging the dynamics between you and Serena, and perhaps even hoping to stir up a reaction from one or both of you.

"Maybe we do," you say, leaning back on your couch, and Serena smirks, Paige rolling her eyes.

"Well, yeah, we're learning lots about each-other. She's a huge soccer fan, and I'm a soccer player."

Paige scoffs, shaking her head and laughing, "You hate sports. You're a nerd, what do you mean you're a-" - "I am." you interject, "You just don't care enough to know that." you shoot back, Paige's expression a mix of amusement and disbelief, as if she can't fathom you pretending to be something you're not.

Serena glances at between you both, intrigued, and curious. "So, uhh...before I ask what I do, what are you guys?" she asks as if she's navigating a sensitive topic, and her eyes dart between you and Paige, seeking clarification on your relationship status.

"It's complicated," and "Nothing," you both say in simultaneously, and when Paige's eyes narrow and she falls silent, you learn that the word "nothing" triggers her. The air is thick with tension, and Serena's eyes widen, sensing the underlying dynamics at play.

"Nothing?" she raises an eyebrow at Paige. She pauses. "Uhh... well on that case, why don't all three of us go get dinner tomorrow? Paige can bring somebody!" she suggests, hoping by the proposal, it will soften the blow of tension.

"And... And so can you, even though I'd prefer if you don't." You smile warmly at her attempt to flirt, and also, keep things equal. "What about my friend Maggie Bowman? She's practically my sister, I think you'll love her. She plays soccer too." You offer, trying to lighten the mood and include Maggie, finally, in your real life.

Paige realizes thats how you must've been able to keep up a sports conversation for so long. "Maggie? I mean, c'mon, I-" "I'd love that!" Serena exclaims, "Who're you bringin' Paige? Maybe another hot model girl?" she teases, referencing you, who does that stupid giggle again and it takes Paige all her might not to lash out as she calmly responds, "I don't know, Azzi maybe."

Serena nods. "That'd work." and Paige grimaces at the fact she'd try for her best-friend too.

The rest of the night is a blur and you come down from the alcohol, all eventually falling asleep on the couches, yet you awaken in bed, next to Paige, like you had become used to as of a week ago. The familiarity of her presence, the scent of her skin, and the warmth of her body engulfing yours stir up a mix of emotions, from comfort to guilt, as you try to process the events of the previous night and the current state of your relationship.

Your body may crave the comfort of her closeness, but your mind knows that giving in to these desires will only lead to more heartache and confusion in the end, so you nudge her. "Off, Paige." you whisper, your voice gentle but firm, trying to extricate yourself from her embrace without hurting her feelings, and subsequently yours.

"Hmm?" she murmurs from sleep, groggily, "No, stay," she slurs, her voice laced with a hint of desperation, as she tightens her hold on you. She has a bad sleeptalking habit, one that you've struggled with in the past to understand if she's just stupid and asleep or genuine.

It's both. And it also seems like old patterns are dying hard. You force yourself up, you exit her arms, and book an Uber back to your house, where Maggie is waiting at the doorstep with coffee. "Where were you all night? Gosh, I was worried sick, I called everybody you knew. Fuck, your friends are dicks." She scolds, her expression a mix of relief and annoyance, as she hands you a steaming cup of coffee, her eyes narrowing slightly as she takes in your disheveled appearance.

"Serena's house," you reply, "This friend of mine. She's in for the week while her Soccer team plays Connecticut."

Maggie's eyes widen. "What? Like The Minnesota Stars playing Connecticut this week? As in the Serena Davis?" She asks, her voice laced with excitement and disbelief, as if she can't quite wrap her head around the fact that you spent the night at the hotel of a famous soccer player.

"I think," you smile, glancing down at your clothes, "I didn't catch her last name, but these are all hers. She's sweet." Maggie's jaw drops, her eyes bulging in utter shock, before she lets out a squeal of excitement, jumping up and down like a teenager at a rock concert. "OH. MY. GOD! You're a groupie! You're a total groupie!" she accuses, laughing and teasing, her hands on her hips. You nod, playing along, "Would this groupie still be one if she was inviting you to dinner with Serena? And Paige Bueckers? And maybe Azzi Fudd?" You ask, grinning mischievously, as Maggie continues to freak out, still in disbelief.

Up until 8:00, the confirmed meetup time, is when Maggie energizes.

She talks endlessly about how you're basically living a double life, how you're "rubbing shoulders with soccer royalty", and asks you what it's like to be with Serena, her questions ranging from serious to absurd. On the drive to the restaurant, you have to lecture Maggie on proper etiquette, reminding her to behave herself, not to fan-girl too hard, and to please, for the love of all things good, not ask Serena for a jersey or autograph.

"Just be chill," you advise, shaking your head in amusement as you walk into the restaurant together. You can feel Maggie's excitement radiating like a force, and you know she's struggling to contain her inner fan-girl. You shoot her a warning glance, silently reminding her to play it cool, as you spot Serena, Paige, and Azzi waiting for you at a table, Serena looking radiant and entirely too comfortable in her celebrity skin.

You underestimate just how famous the girls are, especially Serena, but when even your waiter is a little starstruck to see the three of them, telling them each she's seen them in sports, you realize that you're dining with genuine sports royalty.

You each spend the dinner laughing. Maggie and Azzi talk for some time, both self-proclaimed party-girls with mutual friends, and Paige, you, and Serena—mainly Paige and Serena—do their own thing up until you guys have finished eating and chatting, at which point Serena pays the bill with a flourish, her celebrity status evident in the discreet yet deferential service you received all evening. As you prepare to leave, the waiter lingers, still starstruck, and Serena, Paige, and Azzi graciously autograph a napkin for her before you exit.

The night ends with Maggie inviting you all to a party that you and Paige decline, however, Serena opts to go. "Might as well make the most of it while I'm in town." she says with a grin, "But... if you wanna stay at the hotel, Y/N, we'll all see you guys tonight." She winks, eyes sparkling as she ganders at you hungrily.

Azzi, the only person besides you and Paige who knows your history, a member of the "Paige needs to stay focused" club, and also her best-friend knows exactly what'll happen if you guys are left alone together, and once you say, "I think I will, S," Azzi is quick to interject, "Sure you BOTH don't wanna join us? I mean, Y/N, I remember the first time I met you. At a party." she teases you playfully, coaxing a smile out of you.

"And you remember how I embarrassed myself, Azzi?" you ask, laughing. "How could I forget?" the girl chuckles, "I wanna hear this story tonight," Maggie chimes in, and Serena agrees, "Me too." before Azzi just sighs, knowing there's nothing further she can do, and relents with a playful warning. "Just don't get too distracted, you two. We'll see you tonight."

You don't think you'll get distracted as they disappear into the distance, waiting for their Uber, and you and Paige head towards your car, walking down the street together in silence. The only sounds are the crickets chirping and the occasional passing car, but the air is thick with an underlying tension between you and Paige until you speak up.

"Can you drive? I'm too tired, I wanna take a nap." you ask Paige, tossing her your keys. She catches the keys with a hesitant smile, her eyes searching yours for a moment before she nods. "You done being mad at me?" she asks, her voice soft, playful, and a little vulnerable, like she's feeling her way through the moment, trying to gauge if the chill between you has started to return.

"I was never mad at you," you say with a shrug, avoiding her eyes and sounding utterly nonchalant. "I was mad at myself." Your tone is detached, like you're dismissing the whole thing, and your gaze drifts away from hers, leaving a sense of distance between you.

She decides not to go there with you. "So, Maggie's actually chill," she says, changing the subject, her tone light and conversational. "It's kinda weird it's all falling into place now even though we're not, y'know, 'friends' anymore." her words hang in the air, not probing or accusing, just stating a fact.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

She shrugs, continuing, "Well, Azzi just accepted the fact I'm staying at a hotel with you, which means they all will because she's my best friend. I like Maggie. You like Azzi. And the net is catching on."

You chuckle, amused, and she smiles, playfully teasing. You can't help but think that if you two were still close, she wouldn't be so nonchalant about this situation. It's as if she's only comfortable with this all coming to you both at once because you're no longer under her control.

The thought crosses your mind that sometimes, it takes losing something to realize its value, and you wonder if she's come to appreciate you only now that you're no longer there. You have to remind her you aren't, because with the way her eyes scan your body, your dress, her favorite color on you, black, accentuating your shape perfectly before she licks her lips, adjusting her gray Nike tech, its obvious.

"I do have to say, I like Serena. How come you never mentioned this 'friend' of yours was hot and also really talented?" you laugh, a low throaty sound, and raise a waggling eyebrow that makes Paige herself chuckle smally.

With her laughter, her inability to go there with you ever, you don't expect it at all when she looks you straight in the eye, and boldly smiles, "No you don't. You like me? Remember? Back at your parents' at the park?" there's a dash of challenge to her tone, as if daring you to admit the truth, her eyes sparkling with a knowing glint that makes your heart race.

And just like that, you fall back in.

You slip up in your words. "The car's here, Paige," but you swallow the last part, jumbling it into, "C'mere Paige," instead of repeating what you had actually meant to say. Your voice is struck with want, your brain foggy with the familiar haze of passion, as you pull her closer, your hands roaming over her body like they used to, like no time has passed at all.

Within seconds, you're inside of your car, making out with Paige as her big hands grasp your hips, and you can't at all believe yourself one bit — that you're doing it again — that Azzi was right — and letting her fuck her way back into your life again, but you did have unfinished business.

And plus, now, with it all out of the way — you didn't mind just being casual, your resistance crumbling like dust as her lips devour yours, the familiar spark between you, consuming all rational thought.

"Fuck, I-... I never wanna see you like that again, do you hear me?" she growls again, staring intensely with her hand gripping your tits, spilling out the top of your dress. "Never," she repeats firmly and pulls you back in roughly by your ass, making you yelp into her mouth as she kisses you fiercely, tongue claiming yours.

Luckily for you guys, the deserted streets are quiet and your windows have a tint. It would be a shame for anybody to witness how Paige pulls you over her lap in the driver's seat, pulling your dress down and popping your tit into her mouth, sucking on you with hungry groans, tongue flicking against your nipple as she murmurs, "You like that?"

It's obvious in the way your body responds to hers, hips bucking against her thigh, and how you moan, "Y-Yes, shit." She holds your hips firmly, guiding you back and forth sensually, and due to how wet you are, she can feel you soak her knee through her sweatpants. She softly whispers into your ear, "No panties, huh? Of course, such a slut," and she grabs your hair, forcing your head to tilt back as she suckles on your neck. "Let me show Serena who you belong to."

Those times you knew Paige would flat out ignore you or deny it when you brought up her possessiveness and control during sex, were far behind you because you knew she couldn't now, and it was clear she didn't want to, and it was the hottest thing ever.

Her passion and intensity were undeniable, and you were swept up in the fervor of the moment, loving every second of her unbridled desire.

Once she's done doing that, you can't take it. "Wait, I-.. home Paige home, it's too tight in here." Your voice is laced with desperation, pleading with her to stop or to slow down, but your words are overtaken by her intense kisses, your body betraying your mind as you succumb to her fervent touch, the confines of the car suffocating you.

You don't know how you guys even manage getting home: the want is that much. You have so much need in your body that you do the most reckless thing ever known to mankind. As Paige slams on the accelerator, you spread your legs and slip your fingers down between your thighs, rubbing on your clit, in your wetness that makes the lewdest sounds ever, second to when you moan her name breathlessly. "Paigeee, fuck…! Wish this was you, P, mmph, gosh."

She tries not to glance and she tries not to react, but when you extend your arm and put your hand right across her lap, fucking your own fingers into you with wet noises and desperate whimpers before you give her a taste of it, it's like she's possessed.

You're rushing through the hotel to get back to the room, and in the elevator, more kissing continues, but at the door, you guys tap in and are making out furiously, for what feels like hours, hotly, both stepping out of your clothes in the corridor.

Your hands are all over each other once you crash in, rekindling the passion that never quite faded as you stumble into the room, locked in a embrace that's hard to break.

You unzip Paige's sweater and remove her Nike tech pants and are upset to find the truth about layering being true now of all times -- underneath, she has a black sports bra and blue basketball shorts.

You drop to your knees, sliding them down her legs, and your mouth is on her cunt in a flash. She's insanely wet—probably the wettest you've ever had her before in all your years of fucking.

"Do I have to be standing for this?" she asks through gritted teeth, and you realize that she's complimenting your head game like that, and smile, smirking as you look up at her and delving into her pussy with a strong flick of your tongue against her clit a couple of times, moaning hungrily.

The teasing gets her weak, her knees buckling.

Your words, your touch, your gaze—all of it has her surrendering, her defenses disappearing as she gives in to the tension that's been building between you two.

It's been ages since you've gotten to do this—melt Paige on your tongue, and she tastes like heaven, and sounds like it too. When you focus on her clit, parting her folds with your fingers to angle your tongue and flick at it, she whimpers.

Your touch is so, so perfect it doesn't even feel real, and though none of it does, Paige can't help but savor the moment. She gazes down at your face, looking deep into your eyes as she grinds her hips against you, in a frenzy riding your face as she moans loudly.

"Fuck, you're so good," she groans, pulling you back up by your hair and onto your feet, eyes blazing. "Tell me you wouldn't do this for Serena. For any other girl," she demands, tugging your hair in a way that turns you on intensely as you murmur, "Just you. Always only you." And she's relentless, spitting into your mouth, her saliva thick and warm, before she pushes your face back into her cunt, making everything a wet mess through the singular action.

You pull back and marvel at her pink folds. "So beautiful," you whisper against her cunt, entranced with desire and by the way her pussy glistens and gleams, sparkles, and you suckle her clit like a connoisseur.

The signs she's going to climax emerge: her eyes shut tightly, her abs contract repeatedly, and her face turns red and redder by the moment as you work your jaw faster, slipping your finger up into her entrance, but she stops you with a yank of your head backwards.

"Seriously, I'll fall over if we—c'mon, let's go to the bed." she pants.

This time, Paige remembers to lock the door behind her before she slips in between your legs, dangling her chain enticingly in your face. "Still wet?" she softly and earnestly inquires, and you chuckle at her ridiculous charm. "Yeah, of course."

She kisses you deeply, hands roaming eagerly. "Lemme check," she whispers, and then she slides up your dress, exhaling in awe at the sight because you're genuinely dripping.

"So fuckin' perfect, fuck," her warm breath against your stomach gives you chills, and you twitch slightly in her embrace, prompting her hand to fly to your hipbone, anchoring you with a desperate gaze, afraid you might slip away. "N-no," she stammers, her voice trembling, "No, just... just stay like this, just like this." With lustfully hazy eyes, she closes them as she nuzzles her nose against your clit, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from you. "Ah, Paige-!" you yelp, and she's quick to hush you.

"Shhh, angel, please," she whispers, her eyes meeting yours fleetingly. "Please," she repeats, more firmly this time, before her tongue teases at your clit carefully - like she just wants a small taste.

The shamelessness in her begging — begging for you to be complicit with her, coupled with her mouth, it all makes your head spin.

When you nod, silently giving into her, you watch as she indulges in you, moaning at the faint taste of you on her tongue before she withdraws. "You taste amazing," she mumbles, "Just for me."

Your eyebrows furrow at her words, arousing you further, soaking you thoroughly and making you squirm once more, much to her dismay. "Stay still," she instructs firmly, pausing. "Stay still or you won't get anything out of this… I could do this all night, I promise you."

It took you back to when you first met Paige and she told you the exact same thing. You didn't believe her at first, and then she ended up not letting you cum for half an hour, her fingers inside you changing with every stroke, LITERALLY keeping you on edge.

Your hands laced into her hair, and you tugged lightly. "'s what you get, you bitch… so fuckin' mean to me," you teased, knowing exactly how to get her where you needed her, just like she'd gotten you to where she needed you for what you were about to do. "Serena'd be fucking me good by now. She almost did last night before you came out on the couch."

That was true. You weren't just saying it, and you both knew it. That was true.

"Is that so?"

In moments, you were now both naked, her hands gripping your ass and tits eagerly. Her kisses were urgent and messy as she undressed you, her lips assaulting your neck with hungry fervor. "I'm going to fuck that out of you," she declared, her voice filled with need, her breath heating your skin. "I can't get enough of you."

"Do it."

Paige complied, her hands gently kneading your breasts as she positioned herself between your legs. You gasped softly as she settled against you, the heat of her body melding with yours as she aligned your cunts precisely. The room seemed to fade away as you focused on the exquisite friction between you, the heat intensifying as Paige hooked her leg around your thigh in a sense, drawing you closer with each movement. Her voice was a whisper against your calf, filled with need as she questioned, "Feel my clit, baby? Feel how wet I am for you?"

You whine, overwhelmed. "You're so wet, P, fuck." She had your leg bent back towards your head, her slick heat gliding against yours as she moved forward, inhaling sharply at the exquisite friction between you.

She smirked down at you. "Fuck, you're my slut, baby," she moaned, pupils dilated as she arched her back, pressing her body closer to yours.

With each powerful thrust of her hips, you could see the subtle flexing and rippling of muscles beneath her skin, a testament to her arousal. Her voice was heavy with desire as she lifted your leg higher, craving deeper access. "Fuck me back, baby, come on. Just like that." the last part a near whine as you appeased, meeting her every grind with a fervent thrust of your hips.

"God, you're so wet," she whimpered, biting onto her bottom lip to stifle her moans, "Fucking dripping, aw.. shittt." in the break, she's panting, breathing fast breaths into your ear, and then it falls silent.

The sound that fills the air between you two once it does was raw— carnal. It had grown louder as you complied, truly fucking her back, your clits sliding against each other frenziedly, eliciting a wet sound that mingled with the rhythmic clapping of your skin. Unable to stifle it, a sigh of satisfaction escaped you, breaking the silence. "So deep, Paige," you grunted softly, reaching up to fondle her firm tits, her eyes fluttering shut as she quickened her pace, urging you to keep up.

"Don't… do not fucking stop," your voice cracked with pleasure, urgent and needy without care. "Then fuckin', ohh," testing her resolve, you pinch her nipples mid-sentence, and they perk up, practically begging to be sucked. Her voice trembles so invitingly that your mouth waters.

"Then fuckin' keep up with me, ma. You can do it, angel," she encouraged, brushing your hair from your face just to look you with her glossy from determination, and then she's crying out, "Fuckk, yes!" as her hips buck against yours snugly. You're just about to ask what has her so riled up when you feel it— her nails digging into your skin at the sensation of your clit, rubbing hard against hers and pulsating, driving her insane and making her lose control. It makes you shake with pleasure. It was all just perfect — Paige never fucked you like this often just because in her own words, she didn't like sounding like a bitch.

Moaning like a girl. And... she always warned that she couldn't hold back when it came to your pussy. She'd always lose control if she took you like this, and she knew you secretly liked it when she did.

It was hot watching her internally battle the side of herself that wanted to hold the power and the side that wanted to fuck you stupid and give you all her cum.

Nevertheless, she's spilling more arousal from her hole into the mix, and the glide just gets smoother and smoother, like water on water.

You push your hips up harder, grunting with each forceful thrust, and Paige sounds like she's exerting herself at the gym, groaning gruffly as she fucks you relentlessly, babbling about how badly she wants you to cum in her.

"You do? You want it?" you tease, and she's quick to nod her head vigorously, hair flying free from its bun as she moves. "Mhm," spitting down between you both and pleading, "I want your cum so badly, baby, please give it to me, please let me have it, please make me- make me cum, shit you're gonna-"

Her eyes squeezed shut and she moaned deeply, hips bucking, signaling her impending climax. "Look at me," you urged, "Look at me, Paige, I want to cum, I want to give it to you, look at me."

When she forces her eyes open, glistening with tears, she freezes on the spot at the sight of your tits bouncing and clapping together rhythmically, the way you bite your bottom lip, and how desperate you sound once you climax at the exact same time as her, calling out her name hoarsely. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, Paige, oh—! Oh fuckkk, yes!"

She's whining and crying out listlessly as she collapses over your body, muscles contracting as she spills onto you, and with each slow movement, her cunt feels like glue against yours, so much so that you tremble.

Your skin sticks to each other, a mixture of sweat and arousal making it feel almost impossible to separate, and before you can offer to clean her up again like you so desperately want to — to finish what you started earlier and have her cum on your tongue, a firm knock is heard on your door.

"Guys?!" shouts Maggie, "What the fuck are you doing in there?"

Paige is so thoroughly fucked out that she can't move or speak or react, even though her worst fear has come true, and Maggie knows.

You shake your body, responding cautiously, and inadvertly shaking Paige in the process. "Peanut Butter?" you say. "Yeah?" she manages timidly and you press your hands on her waist, moving her gently, only for her to shudder at the sole movement.

You chuckle at her sensitivity and general posterior as you disclose, "Secret's out," with a humorous whisper.

And to your collective surprise, realizing Serena is back too, she responds resolutely.

"Good."

MASTERLIST

AUTHOR NOTE #2: i think you just witnessed the fact i can’t write angst — or maybe it’s just the creative slumping idk man show all your fav writers some love it’s rly tough out here lol! as always i am now gonna beg for you to interact with me because ily all sm - ana. ALSO TY FOR NEARLY 900 FOLLOWERS WTF!! love u all my cutiemooties, followers, anons 🤍

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sheerfreesia007 · 2 months ago

Text

Dandelions

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Word count: 5,252

Content warnings: Arranged marriage, fluff, mention of sex, suggestive but no actual smut, pining idiots

Summary: You and Lee Minho have been childhood friends due to your fathers being close. When your family falls into a large debt with no way to pay it off Minho decides to step in and help. But when your father proposes an arranged marriage in exchange will you be able to survive it or will you get your heartbroken?

Mindeulle: Dandelion, Jagi: Sweetheart

“So apparently there’s a lot of drama going on with the Choi clan. Did you hear that Jongho is now seeing the Candela’s oldest daughter? She just recently got divorced from her ex husband. It was a quick divorce too.” Jisung rambles on as he lounges on the long sofa in Minho’s office while tossing a tennis ball up into the air and catching it.

Every week Jisung would come and brief Minho on all the gossip that he heard throughout the week and update him on anything that he heard through the grapevine. Minho for the most part doesn’t really care for the gossip but he knows it’s beneficial to know so he lets Jisung come in and just relay it all to him. “And apparently San still hasn’t confessed to the love of his life and he might lose his shot at her since there’s a new upcomer on the scene lately. Oh! I also heard the Yun clan aren’t doing so well lately.” Jisung says in an almost regretfully absent minded tone and Minho immediately raises his head. The clan name catches Minho’s attention and he turns his head away from his computer screen to stare at the younger man taking up space on his sofa.

It’s been a long time since he’s heard that last name, in fact five years to be exact. The last time he saw any member of the Woo clan was at his father’s funeral five years ago when he had stepped into the role of head of his family while grieving the loss of the most important man in his life. And you, the Yun’s only daughter, had been there at his side holding him up as his grief tried to consume and overtake him. But with just the mention of the name Minho is instantly transported back to his childhood, where he would run wild with you at his family’s vacation home each year during the hot summers where he was free to be who he truly was without having to wear a mask. You had never tolerated anything but his truth whenever the two of you were together, it was freeing being with you during those summers.

“What’s going on with the Yun clan?” Minho asks curiously as his eyes focus on the back of Jisung’s head as his thoughts clear from his memories. His assistant slash partner turns to look over the couch and smirks softly at his friend with a knowing look on his face.

“Why are you so curious about the Yun family?” he teases Minho who frowns darkly at him in response. Jisung grins widely at him from the couch before turning back to face away from him and continue to toss the tennis ball into the air. It was no secret that Minho had grown up with you during his childhood since both of your fathers had been close friends. You had been there for every important milestone of his and he was there for all of yours. But ever since his father had passed away and Minho had stepped into the role of head of the family your relationship had grown distant. He hadn’t meant for it to but more often than not he would be too busy to respond to any of your texts, calls or letters that you sent. “I heard that they’ve fallen into a large amount of debt and are having a hard time getting out of the hole. Plus they’ve been in talks with the Song family though no one seems to know about what.” Jisung says with a shrug of his shoulders.

Minho stares at him from his desk as his mind begins to worry about you and your family wondering how bad it has gotten for you and why you haven’t reached out to him about it. He silently mulls over the knowledge that Jisung had just presented to him and he’s reminded of a summer that you both had spent at his family’s vacation home away from the city and the busy hectic life. You both had been out in the fields that surrounded his home just walking around talking about whatever came to mind as you diligently collected flowers for his mother to put in a vase in the kitchen. You were in a pretty flowing lilac dress that fell to your knees in a soft flutter of fabric, your hair had been braided up out of your face and your eyes were bright with your happy laughter ringing through the air. It was the year you had both turned thirteen, an age that Minho insisted was unlucky but you had proved him wrong that summer. That was the summer Minho had realized he was in love with you.

But as you both made your way through the field you hadn’t noticed the rock nestled in the thick grass until you were tumbling feet over head. He had quickly rushed to your side and found you gritting your teeth as you inspected your bruised knee before asking him to help you up. When he had offered to carry you you had indignantly refused insisting that you were big enough to take care of yourself.

A soft fond smile graces his face as warmth fills him with the memory as he grows nostalgic for a time that’s been long gone. Of course you wouldn’t have reached out to him about your family’s debt, you’re too proud to ask for help when you know yourself to be capable. He knows that you’ve been working in the advertisement business ever since a year after his father’s funeral and you had excelled at your job garnering an impressive career to back up your work ethic, he has a feeling that you’ve probably been working yourself to the bone to try and help alleviate the debt. But he knows with the way the loan was probably made that it would take you much longer to make any significant dent in it. He wonders how long you’ve been dealing with this issue on your own and how large the debt is if Jisung is hearing about it now. A frown darkens his face as the worrying thought that you’ve been dealing with this for far longer than you should have been crossed his mind.

“What’s going through that head of yours? I’ve just seen at least five different emotions cross your face.” Jisung calls out as he peers over the sofa arm. Minho’s eyes dart over to his friend and he furrows his brow slightly before he starts to plan out his next steps.

”I need to have a meeting with Yun Hak-Kun. And you need to find out everything you can about this debt for me.” Minho says solemnly and Jisung smiles brightly at his words as his eyes twinkle with a teasing light.

”What are you planning?” Jisung asks knowingly as he turns to face away from Minho. Grabbing the stress ball that he always left on his desk Minho launches it at the back of Jisung’s head and smirks triumphantly at Jisung’s loud squawk of distress.

*-*-*-*

The restaurant is dimly lit as Minho steps into it and stands to the side of the door, he adjusts his suit jacket on his frame as his eyes roam the dining room of the restaurant. There’s a woman standing at a podium looking at him with expectant eyes and he shakes his head at her before she nods once and busies herself with something else. He finally spots Yun Hak-Kun sitting at a booth near the front windows gazing out of it, a look of worry and concern on his face as a bowl of soup sits in from him with steam coming off of it.

Taking in a deep breath Minho begins to walk over to the table, his emotions are all over the place as his eyes take in the older man. It’s been at least five years since he’s last seen the man and within that time it looks as if there has been so much change if the dark circles and wrinkles on his face are any indication. He wonders idly how much you have changed since he last saw you at his father’s funeral, he hopes that it wasn’t too much of a change as his mind conjured up the last image he had of you. When he comes to stand at the side of the table he bows elegantly to the man who looks over at him with surprise written on his face.

”Minho-ah?” The man asks confused as his eyes dart around behind Minho trying to see if there was anyone else with him. Obviously the man has come to distrust mostly everyone around him thanks to this debt that he’s fallen into, the knowledge of that pains Minho and guilt fills him as he wonders if he could’ve stopped this from happening if he was around more.

”Good evening Hak-Kun, how are you?” Minho asks kindly as he stands to the side of the table.

”Please, come sit. I will order you some food.” The older man rushes out as he gestures to the other side of the booth for Minho to sit. He then turns to call one of the waitresses over so that he could place an order for Minho. Minho unbuttons his suit jacket before he slides into the booth and gratefully takes a seat across from the man. “How are you son? Is everything alright? Is your mother alright?” asks the older man worriedly and Minho smiles at his concern, it had always been that way when he was growing up. Both families would be the support and guardian of each other, it was partly the reason why he felt so guilty to have to hear from Jisung that your family was struggling. He hadn’t been there for you or your family like he should have been and he knew his father would’ve been disappointed in him for that.

“My mother and I are just fine. I came here tonight because I’ve heard that you’re not doing well.” he said softly, not wanting to offend the older man. He watched as the man furrowed his brow as a soft frown fell over his face, before shaking his head adamantly.

“We are fine. Where did you hear that?” Hak-Kun asked with a deep scowl on his face. Minho nodded once at the older man before gazing at him earnestly watching as Hak-Kun shifted slightly in his seat before sighing softly. “How much do you know?” he asked knowingly and Minho twisted his lips in thought wondering how much he should tell the older man that he had looked into their situation. He didn’t want to completely offend him and make him distrust him as well but he needed to be honest with him.

“I know that you trusted the wrong person and they took advantage of your kind spirit.” Minho said softly with a soft frown before looking down to the table and tapping it gently with his index finger. “I know that you’re now in a lot of debt that will take you years to get out of if you keep paying them like you are now.” Minho explained and Hak-Kun looked at him with wide worried eyes before he sighed loudly and tiredly as his head hung heavily.

“We’re drowning.” Hak-Kun admitted and Minho nodded his head at the man’s words. The waitress came back with the soup for Minho and he nodded his head at her in thanks before waiting until she left the table to speak again. He didn’t want anyone else to hear what they were talking about, he didn’t think it was right to air this man’s troubles to everyone.

“Let me help.” Minho said softly and Hak-Kun snapped his head up before quickly shaking his head.

“No, no I couldn’t ask that of you. We are working on a plan, Mindeulle has agreed to choose a husband and I am in negotiations with the Song family.” Hak-Kun said softly and regrettably. Minho flinched back at the man’s words when he mentioned your childhood nickname, Dandelion, and then the knowledge that you had chosen Song Mingi as a husband made his blood boil with anger and indignation.

“What?” Minho asked on a soft gasp as his chest tightened at the thought of you being married to another man. Hak-Kun nodded his head solemnly as he sighed softly.

“She’s aware of the debt and has chosen to help in this way. The Song family want their son Mingi to marry and settle down and are willing to help us with part of the debt. They have agreed that Mindeulle would make a lovely wife for him and her career will help further their family’s standing in society.” Hak-Kun explained softly and Minho shook his head quickly as he scowled softly at the table. He couldn’t allow this to happen, he couldn’t let you slip through his fingers like this when he was so close to being with you once again. He knew he was being selfish in his way of manipulating your father into getting what he wanted, you. But he was eager to finally be with you after loving you silently for so many years.

“I’ll marry her.” Minho said softly with a determined tone in his voice.

“What? Minho, son.” Hak-Kun said surprised as he looked over at the boy that he had practically helped raise.

“Cancel the negotiations with the Song family. I’ll pay the debt off in full.” Minho said firmly and Hak-Kun looked over at him with wide surprised eyes before he smiled softly at the boy. “It’s better if it’s me, I have her best interests at heart and will make sure to always protect her.” Minho says adamantly as the look Hak-Kun’s face softens at how insistent he was being.

“You always were in love with her weren’t you?” Hak-Kun asks softly and Minho stares at him surprised before bashfully ducking his head as Hak-Kun chuckles softly. “She was sad when you pulled away after your father’s funeral but she understood it. She knows how crazy and hectic life can get. I will set up the meeting between the two of you. I have no complaints if you married her, even without your help I would be happy to officially call you my son.” Hak-Kun says fondly and Minho smiles softly at his kindness before nodding his head. The two of them then began to eat their soup in a peaceful quiet as they enjoyed each other’s presence.

*-*-*-*

Your eyes widen when you step into the living room of your parents’ home, your father had called you to come over because he had found you a husband who would be able to help take care of the debt that your family had fallen into. Ever since it had happened a year ago you had been working as much as you possibly could to help send money to lessen the debt but no matter how much money you sent over it was never enough to make any change. You had agreed with your father’s proposition of marrying into a wealthy family who would be able to help with the debt much more than you ever could, he hadn’t given you many specifics on who it was he was in talks with but you had heard some rumors that he had contacted the Song family.

Which is why when you spotted Lee Minho sitting comfortably on the sofa with his ankle crossed over his knee talking and laughing with your parents you were shocked to your core. Your eyes raked up and down him silently as you stood in the doorway and almost as if he had felt your eyes on him he turned his head slowly to gaze at you with a wide familiar smile on his face.

“Mindeulle.” he greeted you softly as his eyes squinted with warmth at you. You were instantly transported to the summer of your thirteenth year where you would hide with Minho in the field of flowers that surrounded his family’s vacation home. The two of you giggling to each other as you shared your deepest secrets with each other while lying in the tall grass letting it completely hide you from view of the world.

“Minho.” you say on a gasp as you’re suddenly pulled from your memories as he stands from the sofa and moves towards you. You don’t think as you rush towards him and launch yourself into his waiting arms as he chuckles softly at you while tilting his head down towards yours.

“Hi Mindeulle.” he said softly into your hair and you grip him tightly in response as a smile falls brightly on your face. Suddenly your father clears his throat and you regretfully pull away from Minho to look over at your smiling parents who are watching the sweet reunion between best friends. You duck your head slightly as your cheeks flush brightly at being caught hugging Minho so tight and he chuckles into your hair as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his side bemusedly.

“I know you’ve heard the rumors about me being in talks with the Song family about arranging a marriage between you and their son Mingi, but Minho has graciously stepped up to help our family.” Your father explains in a soft fond tone as he watches the two of you stand before him. “In thanks to his help he has agreed to an arranged marriage between the two of you. Your mother and I are more than happy with this arrangement, we know Minho will take good care of you. He always has.”

Your face flushes prettily at the knowledge that Minho had consciously offered to help your family and agreed to an arranged marriage with you. Your mind raced with the possibility that maybe this marriage wouldn’t be considered a burden to him. Your eyes dart over to your mother and she smiles beautifully at you before nodding her head once in silent acknowledgement of the marriage between the two of you. Minho squeezes your side before tugging you further into his side and you look up at him with a soft grateful look on your face as he smiles fondly down at you. Your thoughts are racing as you continue to gaze at him silently, you’re wondering if he’s happy with this arrangement and if his agreement to this was out of familial obligation.

“Mindeulle, do you have any protests?” your father asked you softly and you felt everyone’s eyes on you as you stood pressed to Minho’s side.

“No, no protests or complaints.” you said warmly to your father before looking up at Minho as your hand came up to rest against his chest feeling his muscles underneath your palm. Your eyes widened slightly at the strong feeling of the muscle underneath your palm before you quickly shook your head and smiled softly up at him. Minho’s eyes were sharp as he regarded you silently before his eyes dipped down to your hand, your lips parted on a silent gasp as you felt the muscle flex underneath your hand and Minho’s answering smirk made your body flush with heat and desire for him.

“Good, then let us leave you two to catch up.” your father said kindly and you nodded blindly at him as your eyes darted around Minho’s smirking face. His eyes moved to watch your parents leave the room and he nodded his head once at them before he turned back to gaze down at you.

“No protests or complaints?” he asked softly still with that smirk on his face and you smiled warmly up at him before tilting your head to the side.

“Well, I mean it’s you.” you began and his eyes sparkled with a challenge in them as he waited for you to continue. “Even if I protested, would it make a difference?” you asked knowingly in a light teasing tone. Minho’s smirk widened on his face as he slowly wrapped his arms low around your waist and pulled you flush against him, your hands immediately going to lay flat on his chest feeling his muscles flex once again under your palms.

“Glad we’re on the same page Mindeulle.” he husked out at you and you shivered in his arms as his eyes sparkled delightedly. “You’re mine now, Jagi. I promise to always be by your side from now on no matter what. I won’t let anything harm you or your family.” he whispers softly to you and you can feel tears beginning to prick your eyes at his solemn promise that he was making. The whiplash of emotions was almost too much for you as he went from seductive teasing to sweet solemn promises. “I know I wasn’t there before for five years but I’m here now.” he told you and you felt one tear slip down your face before he caught it with his index finger.

“I don’t blame you for being busy taking care of your family after your father’s passing.” you confess to him softly. “I’m just happy you’re back in my life now.” Minho smiles adoringly down at you as his hands come up to cup your cheeks and he pulls your face close to his until he brushes his nose gently against yours.

“I’m going to always be in your life by your side.” he whispers to you before he tilts your face up to his and presses a soft chaste kiss to your lips. You hum softly into the kiss as your eyes flutter shut and let yourself feel all your love and affection that you’ve held within your heart for him pour out into the kiss.

*-*-*-*

The wedding was beautiful and you couldn’t help but feel such a grand emotional connection to Minho on the day. He was handsome dressed in his tuxedo as it stood at the altar waiting for you while your father walked you down the aisle towards him. And when he had handed you over to Minho with a warm affectionate smile and a deep bow to the younger man that had both you and Minho tearing up at the significance of the deep bow. Even Jisung had burst into tears half way through the ceremony causing Minho to roll his eyes while softly scolding him and you chuckling softly before handing him your handkerchief.

When it had come to saying your vows you both had surprised the other by having handwritten vows for each other instead of using the generic vows the officiant had at ready. You had gone first with a shaky voice telling Minho that he had been with you through every important moment of your life and that you were so proud to have him by your side during the most important moment in your life now. You confessed to him that your heart beat for him now and would forever beat for him. Closing your vow with the promise to always love him the way he should be loved by another.

Minho’s vows had shocked and surprised you with his own love confession stating that he loved you back when he had just realized what love was and he would love until he couldn’t love anymore. He had admitted that he had lost his way after his father passed away but he had never stopped loving you in that time apart. And now that you were back at each other’s side he had no intention of ever leaving you again. Both you and Jisung had tears coursing down your faces at the end of his vows and Minho had jokingly teased that the two of you were crybabies.

The rest of the evening had been nothing but love filled light moments and towards the end of the night you had found yourself caught up in all the emotions and love that filled the reception hall. You couldn’t help yourself when Minho had tugged you onto the dance floor for one last final dance of the evening, you had rested your head against his chest pressing your ear above his heart listening to the steady thumping of it. Your body had heated with all the love and desire you held for this man and you found yourself desperately pulling him into a kiss that shocked you down to your bones. Minho eagerly returned the kiss as everyone in the room cheered and hollered with delight at your sweet display of affection for each other.

That night the two of you had fallen into bed together exploring each other’s body with soft caress and sweet whispers. Minho’s attention to every detail about you and your body had you singing for him in moans and whimpers that he committed to memory. Any and all sounds that Minho makes nestle into the fabric of your entire being and live under your skin now just waiting until the next time you can get him alone like this.

The morning after you’re greeted to a litany of bruises and love marks all over your body from your newly appointed husband and you can’t help but cherish them as you gaze at them in the mirror. You both then fall into an easy routine where you share sweet fleeting moments together during your busy schedules often crashing together at night in your shared bedroom to create a loving symphony of noises and movements that mirror each other.

Married life suits you it seems as you find yourself more at peace with the world at Minho’s side but there’s still that nagging thought in the back of your brain that he might still view this marriage as a familial obligation since your families were so close while growing up. You try not to let that nagging thought take over your mind but there are some days when you’re unable to stop it from doing so. On those days Minho seems to pay extra attention to you with his soft touches and sweet words, he may not understand what it is you’re thinking or what’s plaguing your mind but he knows that something is off and he tries to alleviate it or assure you that the two of you are just fine. You try to just enjoy your new found life with him as his wife and bury any doubt that you have.

*-*-*-*

The sun is warm on your skin as you lay back in the tall grass field surrounding Minho’s family vacation home, well now your family vacation home. You smile to yourself as you consciously correct yourself before stretching like a lazy house cat disrupting the dozing man on your stomach. Minho had proposed spending your first year wedding anniversary at the vacation home where you had spent your summers as kids. You had eagerly agreed knowing that a trip down memory lane was long overdue for the two of you, not to mention the two of you had been so busy with your careers that it was time for a much needed break.

There’s a light breeze that rushes through the fields and you hum softly as it ghosts across your heated skin and ruffles your loose hair. Suddenly there’s a large shadow that covers you and you blink your eyes open to stare up at Minho who’s hovering over you with a curious look on his face.

”What is it Minho?” You ask softly as one of your hands comes up to cup his cheek gently. He leans into your touch smiling happily before pressing a kiss to your palm.

”Did you ever think we’d ever be here? Married to each other back in the place where we grew up together?” He asked softly and you smiled softly at him as your heart thudded in your chest.

”I had hoped.” You confessed to him softly and he looked down at you with a slight furrow in his brows questioning your soft saddened tone. “I’ve been in love with you since we turned thirteen Minho. It was here during that summer that I figured it out, when you would lay in the field with me just like this talking about everything that came to mind.” You whispered to him still cupping his cheek and smiling softly up at him. “I never imagined that you might feel the same for me. And I still don’t believe it, I keep thinking one day you’re going to wake up and tell me that this isn’t love but familial obligation.” You confess as your breath begins to come in soft gasps. Minho looks down at you with soft saddened eyes as he begins to shake his head in response to your confession.

“Mindeulle” he coos softly at you before smiling brightly at you. “I’ve been in love with you since the same summer. I realized it when you spent the whole summer trying to convince me that our thirteenth year wasn’t unlucky.” He confessed softly and you stared up at him as your lips parted in a gasp remembering that summer vividly, your eyes searched his and found only love and affection sparkling within them as he gazed down at you. “I love you Mindeulle, I think I always have. It just took me thirteen years to figure it out. But I promise to always love you until I can’t anymore.” He admitted, his words reminiscent of his vows on your wedding day.

You cried out happily before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to press your lips to his sweetly pouring all of your love into the kiss hoping he would receive it well. Minho hummed softly against your mouth as his hands trailed down the outside of your thighs before hooking under your knees and dragging your legs to cradle his hips. You gasped into his mouth as he smirked and you chuckled softly at his intentions.

”Minho” you scolded softly and he pulled back with a look of faux shock on his face.

”I am doing nothing but kissing my beautiful wife. I don’t know what’s going through your pretty little head.” He teased you before kissing you again. You hummed against his mouth as he shifted you under him making you cry out with desire as he brushed against you. “But if you want to share your thoughts I promise to be open minded.” He teased darkly and you chuckled at him. Just as you were about to open your mouth to respond to him there came an excited cry from the house and Minho sighed softly as you chuckled delightedly.

”Aye! Lee family! Where are you hiding?!” Jisung’s voice rang out from the house and you couldn’t help but chuckle as Minho rolled his eyes at his best friend’s excitement.

”Why did you invite him again?” You ask teasingly and he glowers at you for a second before rolling his eyes once again.

”I didn’t! He invited himself.” He huffs out as you chuckle at his predicament. But then Minho’s face turns devious and you suck in a harsh breath knowing exactly how his mind worked after all these years. ”You think he’ll be able to find us before I have you whimpering underneath me?” He asked sultrily and you gasped as he put his thought into practice racing his best friend’s curiosity.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin

#my writing #stray kids #skz x reader #skz #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know #lee minho

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swappermanent · 13 days ago

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Reverse Inheritance

The first time Leo told me he could astral project, I didn't think much of it. My grandson had been living with me ever since his father—my son—went to prison, and though he was 20n now, he still had that same wild imagination he'd had as a kid.

Just last month, he'd been on about reincarnation, saying he remembered fragments of past lives. And before that, he was convinced our neighbor was running a smuggling ring out of his garage. Normally, I didn’t mind letting him ramble on. But lately, I was starting to get a bit tired of it.

Today, however, Leo seemed particularly insistent. “I’m serious, Grandpa. I can do it. Astral projection. It’s real.”

I scoffed. "Alright, then. Let’s do a little experiment."

"Sure, what kind of experiment?"

I reached over to a drawer and pulled out an old deck of cards, shuffling them a couple of times until I was satisfied. I fanned the cards out, then carefully picked one from the middle, holding it up so only I could see. “If you’re telling the truth, you should be able to ~float out of your body~ and go behind me to tell me what this card is,” I challenged, leaning back.

Leo took a deep breath, closing his eyes. His breathing slowed, his shoulders relaxing in a way I’d never seen before. For a second, I actually thought he might’ve fallen asleep. But then, with his eyes still closed, he whispered, “Eight of spades.”

I froze. Placing the card face up on the table—the eight of spades.

I forced a laugh. “Lucky guess. Let’s go again.”

Leo gave a small shrug and smirked. “Alright. Let’s.”

I shuffled the deck again, this time picking a card off the top. “Alright, wise guy,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “What is it?”

He closed his eyes again, barely a few seconds this time. “Three of hearts.”

I looked down at the card, and my stomach did a small flip. “Alright,” I said, trying to mask my surprise. “That was another good guess, I’ll give you that. Let’s see if you’re really up to it.”

This time, I picked three cards at once, spreading them face down on the table. “No way you’re getting all of these right,” I muttered, almost to myself.

But a few seconds later, He rattled them off without a second thought. “Queen of diamonds, five of clubs, ace of spades.”

I looked at each card in my hand, and they were all correct. My jaw dropped, and I couldn’t hide it. “Shit… wow,” I breathed. “Alright, kid, you got me. I believe you.”

Leo’s eyes opened, and he gave me a small, satisfied smile. “You want me to teach you how?”

My heart was pounding a little faster than usual. “You think I could?” I asked, half-joking but more curious than I wanted to let on.

Leo leaned forward, his face serious. “Yeah. But you have to really want to do it. Like, let go of everything. All those thoughts that keep you grounded here.”

"Let go of everything…" I repeated.

---

Over the next few weeks, Leo patiently taught me to master astral projection. At first, it felt like some sort of strange meditation. But gradually, I learned how to slip out of my physical body, just as Leo did, until I could stand beside myself, looking down at the slouched figure.

Each session, Leo and I would push the boundaries a little more. We couldn’t go too far since our astral projections only seemed to last about four hours at a time, and even then, we couldn’t travel much faster than a brisk jog. But I was fine with that; I wasn’t interested in dashing across the city, only in seeing how far I could push this strange new freedom.

When we’d reach the end of our limit and weren’t back in our bodies yet, something bizarre would happen. Our astral selves would start to get get pulled back, as if our bodies had a magnetic force calling us home. Those first few times, it was disorienting, hurtling back through space until I snapped back into my skin, breathless, my heart pounding. Leo explained that it was the body’s way of keeping us tethered, that if we stayed out too long, our astral forms would dissipate like smoke, and we’d cease to exist.

“Cease to exist?” I asked him one night, feeling the weight of that warning.

Leo nodded, his face solemn. “I haven’t pushed it that far, Grandpa. And I don’t think we should. The pull back gets stronger the closer we get to that limit. But if we ignore it…” He shrugged, letting the words hang in the air, dark and final.

Still, despite the risk, I found myself craving these nightly adventures. For the first time in years, I felt alive, truly alive. As someone who’d all but resigned myself to the slow, tired rhythms of old age, it was thrilling. But as our nights stretched on, I started to wonder about Leo’s fascination with this skill. He was young; he didn’t have a curfew, he didn’t have an old, weary body holding him back. He could be out living his life instead of hovering in ghostly form around the house or strolling through empty streets with his old grandpa. What was he getting out of this?

One night, as we settled into our chairs to begin our ritual, I glanced over at Leo’s body. He’d gotten comfortable, his head tilted back, his breathing already slowing, his eyelids fluttering shut. It struck me how young and full of life he looked, even when he was so still. I felt an odd pang of longing, a desire that surprised me in its intensity.

When had I last felt young? Truly young, without the weight of decades pressing down on my shoulders? What would it be like to feel like that one more time, to feel that boundless energy I saw in Leo.

As Leo’s breathing grew steady, his astral self drifting beside me, I looked back at his empty body, sitting there, vulnerable and untouched. The thought tugged at me, and for a moment, I felt an almost irresistible urge to reach out, take his body for myself just for one fleeting moment

---

The idea had been lingering in the back of my mind for weeks now. Every time I saw Leo drifting out of his body, the temptation grew a little stronger.

He was shy about his body, sure, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that felt like a betrayal somehow, slipping into him without asking. But there’s no way he’d ever say yes. Besides, I would be in and out before he’d ever know, right?

Finally, I gathered the courage. One evening, Leo announced he was heading out and asked me to join. “I’ll be back in a couple hours, wanna come with,” he said with a grin as he leaned back, his breathing slowing as he began the process.

I shook my head no, feigning sleepiness. “I’ll stay in tonight,” I replied. “I could use the rest.”

As his body drifted to sleep, I waited, counting each minute until I was sure his astral form was far enough away. Then, with my heart racing, I initiated my own astral walk and hovered towards his body .

A deep anticipation rushed over me as I prepared to enter. “Just a half hour, tops” I told myself.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to slip in as gently as possible. But something was wrong. As soon as I began, it felt as if I were pushing against a wall. I couldn’t just slide in like I usually did with my own body. I adjusted my position, aligning myself more carefully with his form, and tried again. This time, I felt a bit of give, and gradually, I was able to push through, inch by inch.

First my legs merged with his, then my torso. I felt the strength in his muscles as I took on his form. I kept pushing, my hands now matching his, aligning, filling out his arms, until finally, my head was nearly there, just hovering over his own.

But then, out of nowhere, I saw Leo’s astral form float towards me from across the room, his face a mixture of shock and fear. Me entering his body must’ve attracted his astral form back as a defense mechansim. Panic flared within me. If he re-entered his body while I was halfway in… I didn’t even know what would happen, but I didn’t want to find out. Before he could reach me, I shoved my head down, slipping fully inside.

---

I blinked, and when I opened my eyes again, I realized I was fully conscious—inside Leo’s body. My vision felt sharper, my muscles responsive, and as I looked down, I took in his smooth, toned arms, the strength and youth radiating through every limb. It was exhilarating.

I hopped up, feeling the lightness in my step that I hadn’t felt in years. Each movement was effortless, as if my body itself had forgotten what it meant to be heavy. I walked around the room, flexing his hands, rolling his shoulders, feeling every inch of youth as it coursed through me.

But then I felt something odd—a light tapping on my stomach, almost like a faint punch or a persistent nudge. Instinctively, I flexed Leo’s abs, the sensation dulling a bit, and that’s when it hit me. That tapping—that was Leo, trying to get his body back.

“Leo…” I whispered, feeling a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry, kid. I’ll be out soon, I promise.”

I let myself enjoy the feeling of his body, each sensation crisp and vivid. As I explored myself, I felt a familiar tension grow in my pants, one that I hadn’t felt in years. Instinctively, I reached down to my waistband and grabbed down to tug at my new, surprisingly hairy ball sack. That was enough to get my cock to throb.

I began stroking my new, uncut cock while feeling up my smooth torso with my other hand. As I did, my mind wandered to all the hot guys I could pull in this body if Leo ever let me borrow it again. Concentrating on that thought was all it took to send me over the edge. Slowly and sensually tugging at my shaft, I spurted all over my chest, completely draining mysefl.

Finally, as I lay back into the bed, a wave of satisfaction washed over me, leaving me feeling both exhilarated and calm. The room was warm and quiet, and with the last bit of energy fading from me, I felt a sudden drowsiness settle in. I lay down, and before I could convince myself to leave, I drifted into sleep, enveloped in the softness of youth and the quiet of Leo’s room.

I jolted awake, my heart racing as I felt hands gripping my shoulders, shaking me roughly. Blinking in confusion, I looked up—and there was my old, familiar face, creased with panic and rage, staring down at me.

“What the hell did you do?” he demanded, his voice hoarse and furious.

It took me a second to process, my mind still foggy from sleep. I tried to sit up, disoriented, and felt the youthful energy of Leo’s body springing into action, as if the night hadn’t worn it down in the slightest.

“What…” I managed, words failing me. But he kept going, too upset to wait for me to catch up.

“I had no choice but to take your body,” he said, his voice laced with frustration. “Otherwise, I’d have just… disappeared. Astral projection doesn’t work for body swapping. That’s not how it’s supposed to go. I never told you that because I didn’t think you’d ever try something like this.”

The full weight of his words settled over me, each one hitting like a cold punch. “So… we can’t just switch back?”

He shook his—my—head, a bitter smile flashing across his face. “No. There's a refractory period before we can attempt any switch again. It’s designed to prevent exactly what you just did. We’d have to wait ten years before we could even try to go back.”

“Ten years…” I repeated, the words sinking in like stones in my stomach. My old body—now his—was 90. I knew my own heart, knew how every joint ached, knew how every year was harder than the last. The odds of it lasting another decade were slim to none.

The guilt knotted in my chest, sharp and sour. I opened my mouth to apologize, to try to explain, but the words caught in my throat. What could I even say?

But then, unbidden, a different thought crept in. In ten years, this body would be 30. That meant I had Leo’s—my entire 20s to live again, the years I’d once cherished and missed deeply. I looked down at my youthful hands, the strength and vitality I could feel coursing through every inch of Leo’s body, and felt a strange, conflicted thrill rise within me.

He must’ve noticed the shift in my expression, because his face—my old, familiar face—darkened. “Are you… are you happy about this?” he whispered, incredulous.

I shook my head, trying to fight the feelings rising up within me, but they were relentless. The shame of it burned hot, yet I couldn’t deny the excitement simmering just beneath.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my expression steady. “Leo,” I said softly, but I didn’t know how to finish.

He watched me, a flash of betrayal in his eyes as he seemed to understand, even without me saying it. And then, with a bitter laugh, he turned away.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror across the room. Fuck, this’ll be fun.

#Isaac Cole Powell

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starofthesea7 · 2 years ago

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König~Worship the King

Your eyes traced the huge mass of muscle in front of you. Fresh from the field, he looked exhausted, primal- his canvas pants still splattered with mud and god knows what else. Arms shiny with sweat and rain, leg bouncing absentmindedly, his head was still a void, swimming with pictures of death and devastation. His eyes were focused on a bowl of stew, dwarfed by his huge, muscled hands. Pale fingers against white ceramic.

‘You can take the mask off to eat your food, I have to clean up your face anyway. In fact I should look at that first.” Your voice was soft, hesitant. Afraid of startling him, even though little could do so.

Dark fabric folded as he shook his head gently. “After. I don’t want it to…” he searched for the word in English, “to scare you. Yet” His voice was rough and tired, laced thickly with an accent, german. Your heart twinged at his words.

“You couldn’t scare me.” You attempted a reassuring smile. König. King. A very fitting name for the enigma in front of you, and yet in some ways not fitting at all. True he was imposing. Large. Stately. Yet he was gentle, anxious, even, when he was in close proximity to others. Under scrutiny. He was anxious when it came to people, most of all you. He was good at hiding it though, to you it seemed an aloofness, perhaps even a polite disinterest, that he felt towards you. A simple nod in greeting as he passed you was the most you could hope to receive.

Now you stood in between his enormous thighs which he’d spread just far enough apart to avoid grazing yours, the air between them thick with tension. You rolled up his dark sleeve, doing your best to ignore the rippling muscle beneath. They way it flexed which each ascent of his spoon, before it disappeared underneath black cloth, then reappeared, empty. He barely flinched as you dabbed an alcohol pad across the gaping wound on his shoulder. Blood glistened carmine.

Oxymoron was a more fitting name, you thought. Perhaps it was too long for a nickname. He truly was a paradox, though. So colossal, yet reserved. So immense yet quiet, even gentle. He was a man of few words. A wave waiting to crash, or a volcano waiting to erupt.

Your voice broke the silence, surprising you both. It felt small. “Feel okay?” He was nervous, although you couldn’t see it, underneath the mask. He wasn’t really afraid of you, more afraid of hurting you, or scaring you. With his weight. His scars, his is strength.

His eyes raised to meet yours. Although he was sitting, they were level with your own. A cold, pale olive green. “Ja. Thank you. I am sorry for waking you for this little scratch.” When you’d gotten a call that he’d needed a small patch job, admittedly you’d jumped at the chance to see him. You’d been drawn to the Austrian giant since you’d arrived a month ago. You liked his presence, it was safe, a shield to all else. Nothing could touch you with him there. No amount of horny jeering men, or loaded guns.

“It’s not a just scratch, König, its a big gash. And I haven’t even gotten to your face yet. Plus, I couldn’t sleep anyway, I’m happy to do it.” You rambled, feeling the burn of his eyes on yours, studying your face as you concentrated, threading a sterile needle. You stepped forward, into him, bumping his leg. He smelled like earth, and motor oil. Faintly of cigarettes and metallic blood. The heady odour was thick, collocating with the rubbing alcohol of your sterile office.

“Deep breath.” You felt silly, instructing a man who’d murdered countless men in the past week to do a breathing excersise, but he obeyed, the soft, raspy sound making your knees weak, and your imagination run wild. You blinked and regained focus, before puncturing the skin. His eyes fixed on your face, unwavering. You counted the stitches. Eleven, black and neat, in a row. “Aaand…done.” You cut the thread. “And not even a flinch.” You smiled at him, and his eyes crinkled, barely.

You gently rubbed it with ointment and wiped your hands on a towel, blood staining it crimson. You noticed his thighs now resting against yours. They were warm, and dirt from them stained your kaki pants but your hardly cared. “Ok. Ready for the mask?” You felt nervous, more nervous than he looked. It felt monumental, an enigma becoming real, smoke condensing into man.

You’d thought about what he looked like, but only in patches, certain features imagined while the rest of the picture was more of a blurred haze. Pale skin and light eyes. Dark or light hair? A sharp jaw or weak and soft? You couldn’t really imagine him being ugly, and truly, you felt you’d be attracted to him regardless, like opposite poles of a magnet. North and south. Dark and light, soft and hard.

He cleared his throat, and set the empty bowl down beside him. His eyes held yours vehemently, and large hands raised black cloth, revealing a pale, broad column of neck, a white scar gracing one side. You wanted to graze it with your lips. His lips were split, bitten and red. And inviting. A glint of teeth and a jaw, sharp with a whisper of stubble. The cloth clung to a splatter of blood and small cuts now integrated with old scars, and a few pieces of shrapnel that traveled up to a deep, glistening slice. Caked blood ran down his temple. His nose was sharp and slightly crooked, veering to the right in an endearing way, as if it had been broken when he was a child.

Then, his eyes, deep set and soft, framed with long lashes and crowned with sharp brows, one interrupted by a large, aged scar. Finally, hair, light, light brown, almost blonde, with a tinge of red, tumbled out. It was tied back with an elastic, but not long, as if he was in need of a trim, shorter pieces falling across his forehead. His head tilted back as he looked at you, silently, daring you to react to his intimate sign of trust.

You breathed out. It wasn’t what you had expected. His face was, interesting. Attractive. Younger than you’d imagined. A sharp canine pressed into his lip. You let out a breath, and raised a hand to his jaw, feeling it clench beneath your fingers, tilting his face up towards artificial light. His lips parted, adams apple bobbing. “You should’ve let me do your face first.”

“Sorry.” His voice was soft, ragged.

You reached for a pair of pointed tweezers and began removing each piece of shrapnel from his face. The night was quiet, save for for soft breaths. His was hot against your cheek. “König.” Chunks of metal and stone clanged into a small aluminum bowl. He hummed in response.

“You could never scare me.”

He smiled softly at you, slightly crooked.

Without meaning to, your thumb stroked the soft skin of his jaw. His legs tightened against you, barely, but your heart quickened against your ribcage.

Again, you soaked the wounds in alcohol. You could tell it stung. His fingers began absentmindedly drumming against your hip, leaving hot tingles in their wake. You moved to the cut on his lip, he hissed quietly as you made contact with the cotton pad. Your eyes were focused, pupils blown wide as you stared at his lips. His hot tongue peeking out from behind pink bloodied skin.

Your voice was quiet, distant, “You have a pretty bad split lip, I’m gonna put a little stitch in it.”

He swallowed hoarsely, “Okay.”

You were close, so close to him, breaths mingling in the hot air. His scent enveloped you. He enveloped you. You weren’t particularly small, but to him you were. Fragile. The needle ruptured his lip and his hand gripped at your waist, heavy and large. You leaned into him, lower stomach barely grazing the split of his pants. He shifted in thick canvas.

Your hand shifted, cupping his jaw as you cut the thread. His eyes were heavy with fatigue, and something else. You looked at each other with neediness, both in awe of how the other contained all that they could ever want- him to satiate your emptiness, you to soothe his aching burn. A month of passing glances and unsaid words threatened to morph into action; spurred on by the arousal of seclusion and stagnation after the high of adrenaline, the heady scent of blood, metal, alcohol.

You leaned in and felt his hand tighten against you hip, You were inches from him, the air between you buzzed as opposites attracted, pulled you towards him. His mouth widened as he leaned into you. Your soft, plush lips grazed his, barely, and he pulled you into him, emitting a soft sound. Mouths opened wide with need. He was metal, cigarettes and gasoline, the taste and smell making you unsteady, faint. You gripped his shirt tightly, his mass keeping you from falling, or perhaps from floating away.

Deft, strong fingers found the back of your head. Scalp prickling as he pulled at your hair. You were slick.

He groaned slightly into your mouth, and your hands found his hair, fisting it free from the elastic band, copper locks brushing your forehead, stubble brash against your reddening cheeks.

His large warm hand traced from your hip down, raising your leg to straddle his thigh. Hot, hard muscle against your softness. You let out an involuntary airy moan as the seam of your jeans jabbed into your clit, cunt clenching around nothing, deprived and empty.

You lifted your other leg to straddle him fully, clothed cunt contracting at the friction against pelvis, you could feel him, large, hard, heavy and confined. It made you hot with need. You pulled back to stare at him, pupils blown, lips puffy. His hips bucked up into you, searching for friction and release, his brows furrowed. Colossal hands found your waist beneath your shirt, opposite fingers almost touching around your circumference. His fingers were calloused and rough. Feeling his hot skin against yours made you reel with thoughts of at the way he dwarfed you, dominated you with the simplest of actions. The fact that he could fill your emptiness, stretch you to the brink, overwhelm you, crush you- was inebriating.

“I-” he searched for the right words, “I want you. Ich brauche dich.” You smiled at his mother tongue appearing, as it often did in states of intoxication.

You pressed your mouth to his neck, with an open mouthed kiss, feeling the bump of his scar as he swallowed, and looked up at him through wet lashes. Grinding your hips against him, making him groan, cock twitching, hyper sensitive from months of neglect. You maundered, “Let me make you feel good, König.” Your voice was airy and laced with fervour. His eyes were glassy and lidded as he looked down at you, hair falling across his forehead, glistening with sweat. His head swam, the situation feeling far to good to be true, an intoxicated dream or adrenaline spurred hallucination. His blunt fingernails clutched at your waist harshly, leaving half moons in their wake.

Your eyes flickered to a stain of precum darkening the crotch of his thick pants as you rose to your feet, his hands gripped his thighs in restraint, watching you in anticipation. Then, you knelt to the ground to worship your king.

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 6 months ago

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Extended Parting

Synopsis: After being separated from you for so long, Childe finally finds you again.

Foul Legacy x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Comfort Warnings: Mentions of blood, physical injuries, fear, pain, crying, allusions to being attacked

Original Request by Anon: requesting requesting! beep bop beep bop ! more foul legacy × reader hurt/comfort, perhaps? :3

hear me out- in the format of a scenario; just pure comfort, reader is perhaps sent of to a dangerous mission/commission while childe is away doing his own thing. when he is going back home however, he stumbles across a group of fatui, taking the reader hostage & hurting them. foul legacy's reaction to his "allies" hurting the love of his life? and how he would take care of the reader after, assuming the reader got pretty severe injuries (even though they're not fetal).

Im a big sucker for this big boi getting all soft when the reader is hurt, and i wanna see more of him just holding the bleeding reader in his arms while trying to comfort them

~ * ~

Two weeks, three days, seven hours, and eight minutes. That’s how long you’ve been apart, how long Childe has gone without being in your presence, and he’s hated every second of it. Important commission, hah! No commission could be so important that it took you away from him for this long- almost half a month! All of your other missions took you a week, tops, and even then he could barely handle it, missing you more and more as each day passed without a single word or letter. Of course, he admits, it’s not like Childe didn’t also have his own duties to attend to during this time, this extended parting. As usual, he was forced to store Ajax and Childe away, slipping on the mask of Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger, and taking delight in violent diplomacy. But even fighting and bloodshed did little to satiate his longing for you; how much he wished to see your wonderful smile and that keen twinkle in your eyes, hear your lovely voice, cradle you in his arms and kiss your cheeks- Childe groans, burying his face in his hands. It makes him irritable, constantly yearning for you, and Foul Legacy is even worse. His Abyssal half is constantly clawing at the back of his mind, worrying his talons and whining as he asks why they haven’t seen you yet? Where are you? When will you be back? He wants cuddles something fierce, desperately seeking out the attention and affection you always give him only to find that you’re nowhere near. They’re both so lonely without you, only each other for company, and Childe has to physically bite his hand to prevent Legacy from simply snatching control of their body away and flying off to find you. With a sigh, the Harbinger wipes the blood from his blades, then his hands, and finally his face, ginger hair all wild and unruly. At the very least, today was when he would finally return home to Liyue. He never thought somewhere other than Morepesok could be considered home, but it turns out that “home” is wherever his heart is, and he gave it to you long ago to keep safe from everything that hurts.

Home… Childe’s mind drifts back to the house you both share, a small smile instinctively tugging at his lips. With a quiet snap of his fingers and a salute, his underlings are dismissed- they’ll be going back to the Fatui Headquarters in Snezhnaya. Childe, however, packs his supplies near the road back to the harbor city, waving the agents away, and the moment they’re out of sight his smile widens into a full-on grin, a delighted gleam in his azure eyes.

Even just thinking about you seems to bring out the best in him, Foul Legacy chirping happily in the back of his head when Childe reassures him that yes, they’ll be seeing you again soon. If you’re done with that horribly long commission of yours, that is, which he’s sure that you are- even the most arduous never take up to three weeks. Despite being exhausted, he finds a spring in his step, dust swirling as his boots land against the dirt path. You, you, you- he’s going to see you again, his beloved and most treasured. Childe almost glows with energetic joy as he jogs, as if he never fell into the Abyss at all. His hand twitches, Foul Legacy begging and pleading to be let out after spending so long locked away, but Childe hushes him gently. You’ve said that you like it when he’s kind to Legacy and Legacy is kind to him- they are part of each other, after all, and you love both of them- so he tries to treat the monster as a friend rather than a weapon, and with a huff Legacy settles back down. Something faint and distant as the moon pierces the night, and Childe pauses, ears pricking. He tilts his head to listen, and for a moment he hears nothing but silence. Until- there, there! A scream! It’s far off, over the next hill, but unmistakably there. Even from a distance Childe can hear the desperation, the terror burning into his bones like a raging fire with a familiarity that makes him stop in his tracks.

No… no, it couldn’t be. It can’t be- Please, please let him be wrong- Childe’s feet carry him towards the sound, dread spiraling and twisting in his gut as another awful shriek rings out and he looks up, eyes widening. He was right. Oh, he was right, and he wishes he wasn’t, because it’s you. It’s you, gripping your weapon like a vice and covered in blood, expression filled with panic and fear and pain. It’s you, still in your adventurer’s gear, bag packed with whatever stupid, insignificant item the commission wanted. It’s you, surrounded by Fatui agents- not his, thank the Archons- the rest of them laughing and sneering. It’s you, hurt and scared and looking as if you’re about to collapse onto the ground and never rise. It’s you, and Childe’s veins freeze over with cold, splintering ice. You’re pressed against a ruined wall, swiping the blade in your hands at the soldiers, who merely snicker at your weakened attempts. The leader- one of those Electro vanguards with a giant hammer- smacks the weapon aside and seizes your arm, and you let out an involuntary yelp of pain as tears prick in your eyes. The yelp is all the motivation he needs, and Childe barely feels his restraint shatter like glass. They never even saw it coming, Foul Legacy throwing his spear and ripping the agents apart as fast as lightning, vibrant purple sparks searing the grass as he roars, driven only by wrath and fury. The vanguard who grabbed you so violently shouts in surprise and horror- then everything goes silent, apart from Legacy’s heavy breathing, claws dripping with blood. He exhales, curling his talons into fist with a tight crackling noise, letting out a low, guttural growl of rage. You bite down fiercely on your tongue, trying to stay quiet, but you can’t help but gasp in pain as the slashes in your body flare, and Foul Legacy’s anger burns away as quickly as a dying candle. He turns and rushes to you, chittering frantically, only to freeze when he sees you stiffen, petrified with fright. His chirps and trills lower to soft croons, gentle and sweet and familiar, crouching slowly to your height and holding out a hand. He tentatively inches forward, hand extended and palm up, claws curling delicately around your wrist when you desperately reach for him. “A-Ajax…?” Legacy’s Abyssal heart cracks, and he swiftly gathers you in his arms, whimpering and nudging his forehead against your cheeks as you cling to him and let out anguished, hitching cries. You suck in a breath when his talons ghost over a wound, and Legacy almost sobs with despair. Some part of him- the rational, trained soldier that is Childe- tells him to get you home, heal you, make sure that you’re well- he carefully gets to his feet, holding you close to his armored chest and adjusting your head so it’s pillowed by his lavender fluff. You shudder with pain again, and Legacy gently licks his tongue over the shallow scrapes on your face, cooing softly; with a flutter of his glimmering wings he takes to the sky, his arms cradling you like you’re made of crystal and gold.

He lands near your shared home not ten minutes later, hastily unlocking the door with the key he always sees Childe using. The house is quiet and a little dusty from being empty for so long, but your bed is as soft as ever as Legacy delicately lowers you down onto the mattress. Childe is the one who tells him what to do, again, guiding his claws to gently wrap your wounds with snow white gauze. None of them are fatal, and Legacy thanks his constellation with a grumbling sigh of relief. A quiet croon slips out when he sees you fading in and out of consciousness, sweetly cupping your cheek with a clawed hand- he’s shaking. Why is he shaking? He’s not the one who nearly died- but your hand comes up to weakly grasp his, and Legacy’s heart melts and breaks and patches itself up all over again.

Your lips twitch into a shaky smile, exhausted, your fingers resting on Legacy’s and soothing the minute trembles running through his body. The Abyssal creature- your wonderful, sweet Abyssal creature- blinks slowly at you, crystalline eye filled with tears that drip down his crimson face and pool in the divots of his mask as he fights to contain the sobs that threaten to break out, and when you reach up your other hand, covered in bandages, to caress his cheek, his breath hitches and he collapses into your arms, burying his head against your neck and weeping. In a whispered voice you coo and murmur and hum to him, repeated words of “it’s okay, I’m here, I’m okay”, and he tries so, so hard to do it back to you, his own sounds cracked and stuttering, something along the lines of “don’t leave, I miss you, I’m sorry”, or as close as he can say with a mouth made for biting and gnashing. Your hands lightly tug him closer- or rather, your hands tiredly loosen and he moves to follow them- until he’s close enough for you to press a soft kiss to his forehead. Legacy immediately purrs, tearful and whimpering, and your silent offer of lifting up the blanket is met with an instance moth monster at your side, curling around your body and holding you close. He’s careful not to squeeze you, trying to get as close as possible and mold his form around yours as you rake your hands through his fluffy coppery hair, drawing more deep, comforting rumbles from within his chest, the type he makes when you’re dreadfully ill.

Cats’ purrs are healing, so you’ve heard. Perhaps Abyssal beasts’ purrs are much the same. Slowly, your eyes begin to droop, and you yawn, exhausted and worn. Foul Legacy quietly nudges you, a croon of reassurance falling from his fanged maw, claws dancing over the wraps on your skin now stained brilliant red. It hurts, it hurts like fire- but you’re safe. Safe in your bed, and in Legacy’s arms, and the tension leeches from you and dissipates into nothing. You vaguely hear a soft melody, low and rumbling and familiar from when you’ve sung Foul Legacy to sleep, and the arms around you tighten ever so slightly as the sun finally dips beneath the horizon into the locked box of night. Two weeks, three days, eight hours, and thirty minutes. That’s how long Foul Legacy refused to let you out of his sight, even after your injuries had closed and healed.

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jaylaxies · 1 year ago

Note

ARIAARIAARIAAAAA HAVE YOU SEEN THISS

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSL7vJc3J/

GIVE ME YOUR THOUGHTS 💭 - 🎉

OMG I HAVE and here:

tw: stalking, drugs, blackmailing, gambling, guns, smut

stalker!hee who pretends to be the nerd in your class, always watching you from a distance simply because he can’t get enough of you, you’re too pretty for anyone else to have and that’s how he learns the way to your heart, getting information about the smallest things such as your favourite drink so when he finally talks to you, he can manipulate you into thinking that he’s the perfect guy for you, knowing everything there is about you, him being wild in bed and having a big cock is only a bonus.

drug dealer!jay who’s always present at all your frat parties with whatever a person would need to feel out of this world, yet that’s not what you crave, you want love, you don’t wish to feel alone in this world and so, you try drugs in an empty balcony, but you request jay to accompany you for the same. he’s habitual to it, and he finds you cute with your mumbling, but once you both get high out of your mind, heat kicks in and soon, you’re on top of jay, kissing the life out of him while riding his cock, which feels a thousand times better while smoking.

blackmailer!jake who’s also your ex and possessive beyond what you’d consider normal. the breakup was messy, he was controlling your life and you were against it, but he had ruined everything for you. nothing felt good after him, no one fucked you as good as him till the day you get a text from him, hoping that it’ll be an apology but he ends up blackmailing you with the crime you had committed and buried deep in your memory. what he wants in return? you. it’s an easy bargain with you missing his touch and him doing anything and everything to have his cock in you again.

street racer!sunghoon who’s all the money in this world and yet nothing gives him the thrill like racing does, and that’s why he finds himself back there each week, until one day he spots you. he hardly pays attention to anyone, and he almost missed you since your clothes fit right in, but he doesn’t like how you’re clinging on to his rival heeseung. that would have been enough for him to stop thinking about you but that wasn’t the case when he made most out of the line bet with him—that he’ll have a night with you if he wins, which he did. but you’re fierce, you hate how they treated you as a bet, and without your knowledge at that. but that doesn’t stop you from fighting back, and fighting with sunghoon doesn’t end well, one minute you’re fighting, the other you’re under him, begging for more as he fucks you senseless on his silk sheets.

gambler!sunoo who cannot stop getting back to the gambling hub each night. the reason? you. he doesn’t like how you wear that smirk of yours, clad in the tightest clothes while playing strip poker, somehow always winning and never having to go beyond removing your top. sunoo never plays with your group, always observing from a distance until he finally caves in and plays with you, eyes on you, not caring about the ones around. he plays effortlessly, being the best player you had ever came across, a gasp left your mouth when you were left in nothing but your panties but he stops you from removing them, eyes dark, “leave them on, it’s only for me to see,” he’d whisper, and yes, you can’t deny him and find yourself following him back to a hotel.

mafia!jungwon who never had any other motive in life but to kill his rival as a revenge for his family, but right on the day of his final plan, things went south and you (who happened to be at the same restaurant) got hurt. of course jungwon completed his mission but leaving a girl injured would be way out of line even for him, and you had also seen their faces behind the masks while holding guns, which is why they couldn’t let you run away, which is why you found yourself in their secret building, trying your best to get away, but jungwon wasn’t having any of it. he snapped, pinning you against the wall and warning you, but you took this as an opportunity to kiss him, turning it into something deeper as you let him fuck his pent up frustrations into you. the sex was good but you wanted out, running away when he was sleeping, not knowing that he’ll come to get you again.

#🎉 anon #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #jay smut #jake smut #heeseung smut #sunghoon smut #jungwon smut #sunoo smut #enhypen #enhypen imagines

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auset66 · 2 months ago

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What your inner child wants you to know (Never heard before specific messages). 🎯👼

1. The Orange Girl 🍊

I see that you are a very practical and hardworker person. Past few days or weeks I feel is you are having some problems related to health or things just not going your way. I see the mental fog you cant pin point but things are just going wrong. A lot of confusion. You are also doing everything practical you can to deal with this but the thing is it is the matter of emotions and heart. 🧊🧹

Now the inner child of you wants to be free and have free flowing emotions. Now I feel you are that person who has been very emotionally detached from yourself as long as you can even remember living. Like you go and work hard and make things right physically. You might be that A class person "cold hearted" who is always about work work work. So why have you been like this? Because there is this fear of expressing yourself. Now I don't know if it because of seeing poverty or because of your parents being so strict not letting you be freely yourself. It could be many things, but the main energy the main source I see here is fear. That is now ingrained in your mind since the very young age. But you are exhausted now and your physical reality your health your body is giving out these signs. Calling you out to let your emotions flow free be the wild animal and live life freely in peace in happiness. What you can start by doing is maybe writing, drawing or even just try crying. It might be very very out of comfort zone but you can give it a Try. One thing you can do is write your feelings down everyday or everynight in the dairy or note app anywhere without any filters. Do what "feels" right. Very foreign to you rigth? And offcourse if you can I highly highly recommend consulting a therapist, not a psychiatrist, a psychologist. A good therapist can really understand all your problems and will help you out through this. That's their work afterall. What you need is therapy not medicines. Goodluck ✨️❤️

2. The blue walker. 🌧

Okay, so the first feeling I feel is happiness. Yeah I know you will be like... what happiness I literally hit rock bottom this time. Yes you did. I see a relationship or something very long term even could be your long term work it all breaking off. You lost something for sure or even someone. Whatever it was you made the decision already and are feeling a lot of uncertainty now about the future and everything. But (yes don't forget this reading) in few months from now you will see you feeling happy that type of happy you never even thought you could feel. You changing drastically growing naturally feeling natural and almost at peace. I feel whatever situation you left there was a lot a lot of masking up, a lot of chaos, people especially, lot of you doing and gaslighting yourself to do feel things you never wanted to. So this thing that ended your inner child is almost happy and thanking you actually that you finally let it go. All you have to do right now is to be patient and breathe. Rest. Let it flow. Whatever you doing right now you are doing right. You will see the change in yourself that you never even thought could happen. The change in your life the reality. Then look back at your life you had when you were in this "cage" I should say. And one more thing that I never say in my reading but it was strong so I see a person a good person entering in your life yes a romantic intrest. With this person you won't have to beg for attention or love or even have to pretend that you are Not clingy or that you are very cool person. You can just let be and this person will do everything without you even asking. You will be happy and feel free. Good luck. I honestly see a very bright and happy future and days. ✨️❤️🍃

3. The Green Rain 🍃

So I see you are a person who actually is really in tuned with their emotions. A good person a nurturing person. Having compliments about your motherly nature and being a caring person is not something new. So I see there is this calling in you which wants to make things right. Make the world a happy place. You love people and you are a humanitarian person. The thing is this energy is put on the people around you. Relationships, friendships and you know just these people. Most if not all these people are very immature and wants you to keep on giving and giving without expecting anything in return. Now the problem is you, that you think you feel that it is your responsibility to mother them, to nurture them to bring Them back to path. You feel like "give me all your pain let me alchemise it for you, because I know how it feels how to deal with it". You put yourself in others shoes, but the problem is these people are not giving the results back. They are just keep on becoming more dependant on you keep on taking all your life force out of you. Why you still think it is right even when you are so emotionally Intelligent? It is because of your childhood trauma of having irresponsible parents, huge mother issues. You feel if you won't do it everything will fall out. Your worth is only when you "protect" these people. What you can do? You should know that there is a line. The truth why you are still keep on doing it? And the truth is the trauma response not the empathy in this case.

The inner child in you wants to put this energy into something that will give the results back. What do i mean? Give a try to NGO work or becoming a clinical psychologist or world health or even teaching anything everything you can think of that will actually give the results back. Not the big manipulative corporations but the actual things that can help people not them keep on falling back to same cycle with you repetiting the same. You want to give to the world and you want results back. If you invest money in charity you want them to be invested in what charity told it will be invested it and not in their bank accounts becoming black money.

And yes the person whoever it is you are romantically involved in yes even if it is just a situationship. leave.You and me we both know how sneaky and immature this person and won't ever grow and especially never with you. The happy family dream... this person is far from that. Don't waste your wisdom and energy on these energy Sucker people in your life and put them into those who actually needs it. That's what your inner child wants. To make things equal and right. The change in world won't happen if you keep on mothering a litreal adult with mommy issues. Goodluck. 🍃❤️✨️

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preservationofnormalcy · 3 months ago

Text

[My name is Meghan Hendricks, and I’m about to do something stupid.]

[I’ve scheduled my work to be sent to my superior in the federal government’s oversight committee unless I stop it in one week. A dead woman’s hand. It’ll be somewhat fruitless - I’ve begun to suspect that my work will be restricted, censored, and buried like most other things the Office does.

A lot of the people I talk to are exculpatory of the Office, even if they say they have questions or concerns. I think most of them mean it. I don’t think it’s brainwashing. I think in such a tighly knit community as the supernatural world people feel a more genuine sense of belonging than they might otherwise. A werewolf helping werewolves is going to understandably try and defend the hand that deals the help, even if they’ve bit it in the past. But one thing I’ve learned as I’ve been peeling up rocks and seeing what scurries away is that something isn’t right. Something is hiding in plain sight.

Most people don’t know about it. They can feel the shape of it, the outline the absence of something makes. Some people, however, do know. At least a little. I’ve seen them avoid questions, look away, end interviews. I can see it in their eyes. They know enough to not want to know more.

All of that brings me here, to the backwoods of upstate New York. I’m dressed in all black, wearing a mask and gloves. My clothing smells of peppermint, and in my bag is a bottle of peppermint oil. It stung my eyes and, before I got the dilution right, burned my skin. I look in my car’s rear view mirror and it hits me that I look ridiculous. I don’t know for sure why the factory foreman Barry warned me about the peppermint, but I had a theory.

For the last few minutes I’d seen the shape rising into the air, the metal tower with red lights up its length. That was where I needed to be. The highway was thankfully bare, at this time of night. As was the turn-off onto an unmarked gravel road, only distinguishable by the Office’s symbol on a plastic sign, held up on a thin metal spike. I’d learned by now that the broader public couldn’t see the Office logos and signage until they’d been exposed to the extranormal, something the Office calls “memetic masking.” I was, in their terminology, memetically inoculated, and it was that fact that ironically helped me find the path. The gravel road went into the forest, but I pulled over past the road’s entry, into the small area of grass down past the turnoff. I pulled a tarp from my car and threw it over the vehicle, once again feeling ludicrous…and frankly, a little scared.

The hike was about twenty minutes, mostly uphill on a gentle incline, the numbers station being built on a hill. I’d done worse, but not in a while. I could see pretty well in the light of the full moon, a fact that made me a little more nervous. I walked along the edge of the gravel road, in the dark - hiking onto a government facility, my nerves went wild. Every shift of leaves meant an agent clad in camo, every whip of wind causing a noise that made me think of the things I’d seen since I began this assignment. Not this assignment, I had to remind myself. This wasn’t part of it. Not really.

I saw the fence in the distance first - an eight foot chain link fence that stretched as far as I could see in either direction. Past the fence, I could see dark buildings, giant spools of wire, and above it all the metal tower of the station. I hadn’t exactly planned for this, even though I knew it was more than likely. The handheld cutters in my back pocket were ready, but something in me didn’t want to cut the links, even if I fully intended to pass the fence. Getting in some other way could be a blunder, accidental. Cutting the chain meant intent.]

C] 1 15 12 24 2 12 12 21 16 26 1 15 12 22 21 19 6 26 2 25 3 16 3 22 25

[The voice almost made me vomit. I spun and saw a man. Disheveled, haggard, an unkempt beard and long hair. Older, in his 50’s, but being dirty and ragged made him look even older. He didn’t even look at me, mumbling numbers so fast I could only understand them later once I slowed them down in my recording. After his string of digits he stood there, looking at the fence, then back to me. In the moon’s light I saw his dirty, torn jumpsuit, the logo for the Office on the man’s arm and chest, along with an embroidered nametag - Cecil.]

M] Wh- who are you? What are you doing here?

C] 4 12 25 16 23 23 12 11 22 2 1 1 15 12 23 8 25 1 22 13 2 26 1 15 8 1 18 21 22 4 26 16 1 26 9 25 22 18 12 21

[His stare was distant, vacant. It was a shock when his hand moved suddenly, pointing upward to the moon. It took me a second to realize what he was saying, and when I did, it confirmed my suspicions.]

M] Here? Now?

C] 1 15 12 6 19 19 23 2 21 16 26 15 15 16 20 13 22 25 19 16 3 16 21 14 1 15 25 22 2 14 15 16 1

[With that, he turned and walked away. He looked back once, pausing as if making sure I was following - which, despite my better judgment, I did. I attempted to ask him some more questions, trying to understand who he was or why he was here, but he didn’t respond. Not even with his numbers.

After a moment of walking by the fence, we walked away from it, down the hill. A steep path, rocky and unstable, that he navigated with ease. It was only after climbing down past a tree and a rocky face that I noticed “Cecil” backtracking up a few steps. A huge drainage pipe jutted out from the hillside, hidden from above by rocks and plants. A piece of wood in the pipe was the only flimsy protection, and without hesitation Cecil pulled it aside and bent over to climb inside. Here I was, in the middle of the woods, about to climb into a dirty tunnel to a strange old man’s bunker.

I could hear a match catch fire just as I stepped down onto a concrete floor and stood up past the metal pipe. The space was small, a concrete box that ended in a pile of rubble. It must have been the entrance to an underground section of the complex at one point, but now was only a covered shelter. A camp stove, a bed, an orderly pile of refuse. He was living hard out here, but he was living. Cecil put the match into an old oil lantern and held it up to one wall. ]

C] 13 16 21 16 1 12 2 21 16 3 12 25 26 12 13 16 21 16 1 12 1 22 22 19 26 4 12 19 22 22 18 12 11 9 12 6 22 21 11

[All over the concrete wall, pasted or taped, were papers. Mainly old documents from the Office, with the Office logo watermarked on their corners. Many of them featured heavy black redaction bars. Some were torn, upside down. Cut in patterns, circled with heavy marker lines. I’d seen things like this in movies, of course. The stereotypical red string and thumbtacks on corkboard. This was different, however. When I looked over the collage I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t a man trying to figure things out. He’d already figured it out, in his own way, and this was some kind of…archive. Memorial. A reminder. I looked at him, and he looked down to the floor. In shame? Sorrow? I couldn’t tell. I scanned the wall again, trying to find some order.

‘Numbers Station 23 Decommissioned By Order Of Reality Compliance Council.’ ‘Bulletin From Director Walker On Directive 61722.’ ‘Los Angeles–’ the last one was torn off.]

C] 26 15 12 16 26 14 22 21 12 13 22 25 12 3 12 25 26 15 12 11 16 11 21 22 1 11 16 12

M] What is all this? Who ARE you?

C] 1 15 12 23 25 16 21 10 16 23 8 19 16 1 6 4 16 19 19 8 3 12 21 14 12 15 12 25

M] Listen, I – I don’t want numbers. Can you speak?

C] 15 16 26 13 2 1 2 25 12 16 26 2 21 18 21 22 4 8 9 19 12 8 21 11 1 15 2 26 16 21 13 16 21 16 1 12

M] You used to work for the Office…at the numbers station? This numbers station? Is that why you can only –

C] 4 12 18 16 19 19 12 11 25 12 8 19 16 1 6 1 22 26 1 22 23 15 16 20

[I must admit to some frustration. I scan the wall again. None of it made sense. Clearly it did to Cecil, otherwise he wouldn’t have saved all of this. Was the numbers station related to…what happened to my brother? Phrases leap out at me: ‘reality compliance’, ‘the equation’, ‘project dammerung.’ That last one was…all over. There were scraps, shreds with the phrase, but all of it redacted.]

M] What is this? Project Dammerung?

C] 2 19 1 16 20 8 1 12 4 12 8 23 22 21 13 22 25 1 15 12 2 19 1 16 20 8 1 12 13 12 8 25

M] I don’t…I don’t have time for this. You know why I’m here. Are you going to help me, or not?

[Cecil was silent for once, looking around hesitantly, and finally back to the floor. I give him a moment to respond, and when he remains silent, I take in a breath.]

M] Right. Thank you, Mister…Cecil. I’ll…

[He raises his hand, almost as if he wanted to grab my arm, but was too timid. Raising the lantern to a section of the wall, he gestured to a particular document, from Office Security, or O-Sec. A photo of a serious-looking Asian-American man, Corporal Han. Most of the document was blacked out. Was this a warning? I take in the wall one last time, and drop my bag so I can reach for my camera. A polaroid - no digital trail, no getting the photos developed. With a click I snapped a photo of the wall.

A noise distracted me. I turned, and Cecil was going through my bag.]

M] Uhh…sir? Cecil?

[He stopped, looking up at me in almost surprise, as if he’d forgotten I was even there. ]

C] 1 15 12 12 20 16 26 26 8 25 6 26 14 25 8 21 11 11 8 2 14 15 1 12 25 4 16 19 19 1 8 18 12 15 16 26 23 19 8 10 12

[He slid the bag back over to me. I couldn’t figure out what he was looking for, but it didn’t matter now. I needed to get out of there. I put the camera back in, quickly checking that nothing was missing, and backed up towards the pipe.]

M] I know you showed me this for a reason. I’ll figure out how it all adds up, I promise.

[I enter the pipe again, leaving the old man holding his lantern.]

M] Thank you.

[When I turn away, he looks to his wall one more time.

I emerge alone into the moonlight, attempting the climb back up the hill. Though I had more scraps of information, I was back at square one, or so I thought. When I reached the top and made it back to the fence, I saw a section of the chain link that had broken, detached from the pole nearby and bent away, covered in a bush that only kept it half hidden. This must be where Cecil still entered the facility.

The gap in the fence opened up into what seemed to be a storage yard, the place I’d seen past the fence earlier. Piles of tarp-covered metal or wood beams, spools of wire as tall as I was. In the moonlight, I could see poles dotting the yard, cables stretched between them, each one bearing a floodlight. Though everything had been organized and put away securely, I got the feeling no one official had been here in a long time. Leaves covered most surfaces, and cobwebs shone in the dim light along the roof of a nearby shed.

Again, it struck me that I didn’t know what I was doing. Any information or leads would be in the building past the storage yard, and surely that had better security? Cameras, keycard locks - what was I even doing here? Walking through the yard, almost lost in thought - the tower of the station rose into the night sky in the distance, red lights along its length. They almost looked like eyes along the body of some thin creature, frozen against the stars.

And then, lights near the station building. I stood still for a moment, uncomprehending until a pair of floodlights on poles a short distance away snapped on, then the next set. The lights were turning on this way, towards me. I had seconds to react, and I did what I’d practiced. In my bag’s side pocket was a plastic bag, containing a gross mess of wet cotton balls, soaked in diluted peppermint oil. Despite my panic, I threw them in all directions, slinging a handful of them in a wide arc, and then hid before the lights were on in my section of the yard. I could hear the electric buzz of the floodlights snapping on just as I ducked behind a row of wire spools, trying to stop my racing heart.

As I debated my options - running, waiting out the lights…maybe they were on a timer? I heard footsteps approaching, crunching on the leaves and pine needles that had accumulated over the unattended years. When they got closer, I tried to peek through the center of one of the spools I was hiding behind. I saw his uniform first, O-Sec, Office Security. A large man, built like a weightlifter - could see the black shine of a gun in his right hand and my heart leapt into my throat. It was the man from Cecil’s mural, Corporal Han. Was he the officer assigned to this site? I should have known the Office would still have security even on decommissioned stations like this.]

H] I know you’re here.

[He stopped in a large open area, looking around at the stacks of materials around him, the sheds and tarps - all hiding places.]

H] Normally, I might blame teenagers. Kids getting a kick out of trespassing on Office property. We had one group a few months ago, teenagers. Two humans, a fae and a vampire. They all forgot their vamp friend couldn’t enter without permission. Fun night.

[He paused, letting the silence fall again. I could see him look around, eyes scanning the yard and narrowing. He sniffed the air in a way that seemed…odd.]

H] But judging by the smell…I think you know what you’re doing. You came in with an idea of what was going on. Either you’re a professional, or someone told you…

[He carefully walked, passing behind a small shed and out of my view. I panicked that I lost track of him for a moment, but then there was a sickening sound. Like flesh stripping and bones crunching, and Han’s voice hissing. Then a sound that echoed through the yard, the sound of a hand - no, a claw, grabbing onto the edge of the shed’s corrugated metal wall, digging in and tearing the metal. A shape followed it. A long maw of shining teeth, white fur. A raised canine lip in a familiar but terrifying gesture of anger and aggression, a low rumble as the muzzle raised, and smelled the air. Then, a whine, another growl, sneezing and huffing as the muzzle retreated behind the shed again, out of my view. Another crunch, a growl, and Han staggered past the shed. Haggard, sweating, panting softly, looking incensed.]

H] And if someone told you, I’m going to have a nice, long…conversation with them.

[He tried to collect himself, catch his breath, run a hand through his hair. He pulled a bandana from a pocket of his uniform, pulling it over his mouth and nose.]

H] You have one minute. One minute until I call backup. You can hide from me, but can you run from a dozen of us? Most of them won’t have my…shortcomings.

[My heart was pounding. My head was swimming. My fingers were going numb. I couldn’t claim innocence, not when they found out who I was. Could I make a break for it? All of the ways out seemed to be past him, and if he was what he seemed to be, it would be a short chase. It would end up better for me if I surrendered now, but what happens after that? I’d never work again…or worse.]

H] Cecil?

[Han’s voice was confused, concerned. I snapped around to watch through a gap in the spools as Cecil approached, holding a bottle. The bottle of peppermint oil. He must have taken it earlier when he was looking through my bag.]

C] 1 15 12 18 21 16 14 15 1 9 12 8 25 26 1 15 12 14 2 16 19 1 15 12 16 26 25 16 14 15 1

H] Cecil, what did I tell you about–

[Han took in a breath through the cloth, and exhaled, clearly frustrated. His voice was sharp, low, but his face softened, and there was a soft click as he put his gun away.]

H] Why the peppermint, man? You know what that does to my nose. Were you just trying to sneak around without me knowing?

[Cecil looked at the bottle, then dropped it.]

C] 26 22 20 12 26 1 16 19 19 13 12 12 19 23 15 8 21 1 22 20 23 8 16 21

H] Are you taking your medicine? Probably not. Let’s….let’s get you back home. Not that bunker, home.

[Cecil seemed to hesitate, but Han put a hand on his upper arm.]

H] You know you can’t be here. Come on. If you come with me to the station I’ll ask someone to bring you dinner when they come pick you up. Okay?

C] 25 12 8 19 16 1 6 4 8 26 13 22 2 21 11 4 8 21 1 16 21 14

[The older man lowered his head, but followed Han as the guard turned and walked back towards the station - but not before looking around, deciding on the row of spools I was hiding behind, and nodding, jerking his head towards the direction of the gap in the fence.

I didn’t need to be told twice. Once Han and Cecil were out of sight, I ran to the exit. I don’t remember much of the next several minutes - running a roundabout way through the forest, coming to the edge, following that until I found my car. I didn’t allow myself time to decompress. I slammed the keys into the ignition and pulled out onto the highway.

The tears came just as it started to rain, and I drove until it became difficult to continue. I had gained nothing from this. Nothing but a panic attack and a long-lasting nightmare, a recurring dream with claws, spools of wire, and the scent of peppermint. ]

#this one nearly killed me #interview #lycanthropy #microfiction #short fiction #sci fi #writers on tumblr #also to answer the question I'll get. yes. Have fun.

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silassinclair · 6 months ago

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Hello! Wondering if I can request a Maddox with a very Dense darling? Just all in general doesn’t realize that Maddox grew to love her? It’s just going back and forth on Maddox trying to show his love while Darling is just thinking that he’s trying to manipulate her or something of the sort..Just all in all love silly and weird things happening with the two.

Hope you have a great day as always, remember to always take care! :)

This is such a cute request. Thank you for this one!! And you have a greater day :) Masterlist Here!!

Yandere Wild West Outlaw x Dense Reader

You noticed something odd about your outlaw captor lately. Usually he would force you to do chores around the house while he would either watch and insult you; or go out in town to drink while you were chained to the table so you wouldn’t run off. But for the past few weeks the chores have become less and less and Maddox kept a closer eye on you. No longer did he go out in town while leaving you chained up. Instead he watched you in silence. It was weird and honestly uncomfortable. Why was he always looking at you and not saying anything?

“Did you run out of crude words to call me?” You ask while hanging some clothes outside to dry. Maddox sits on the porch step watching you.

“Huh?” He utters.

“You’ve been watching me in silence lately. It’s… odd.”

The shirt you hang up is one of his. Even though it's clean it still has his cedarwood and smokey scent on it. Maddox has invaded all of your senses lately. You see him watch you, you smell him when he's near, you hear his grunts when he chops wood, and you feel his featherlight touch on your cheek when he thinks you're asleep. You can't go anywhere without sensing him nearby. No, the masked outlaw has you on an invisible leash.

Maddox stands up from where he was sat on the porch step. Walking past the hung clothes blowing in the wind he strides towards you. His brown eyes are locked on you. It makes you nervous. Did you slip up? Say something you shouldn't have? Will he punish you again?

"What is it princess? Am I makin' you uncomfy?" You can pretty much hear him smirking from behind that bandana. You don't even need to see his face to know what it looks like.

"No." You reply. "It's just weird. You're always watching me now. What are you scheming huh?"

The outlaw chuckles and reaches a hand out to your face. You flinch and his hand freezes. Maddox's eyes soften for a moment and he moves his hand slowly to put a strand of lose hair behind your ear. His hand brushes against the shell of your ear. It's warm.

"I ain't scheming anythin' sweet heart. Just like to watch you is all. Is that a crime?"

Your eyebrows furrow. "I don't believe you for a second."

Taking another article of clothing out of the basket you hang it up on the clothesline.

"You don't believe me?" He whines jokingly. "Why would I lie? Who wouldn't wanna watch a pretty girl like you go about her days? It's more entertaining than going to any boring ol' show."

That one causes an eyeroll. "Now you're trying too hard. If you think I'm going to run away then relax because I'm not. I learned my lesson when you shot me."

Maddox groans and wraps his arms around your waist. He leans down, resting his chin on your shoulder. Once again Maddox invades your senses. You smell the gun smoke, feel his heat, hear his breathing, and see his arms around you.

"What if I told ya' I loved you hm?" His husky voice whispers into your ear.

"Well then I wouldn't believe you." You shoot back imediatley. The outlaw whines and buries his face into the crook of your neck from behind.

"Why not princess?" He says as his finger toys with the ribbon that ties the front area of your dress together, the ribbon right over top your breasts.

"Because you're a lying criminal. Now shove off, I'm working on drying your stinky underwear."

Your elbow jabs Maddox in the ribs making him wince and let you go.

“Easy now princess.”

"I'm home."

You turn to see Maddox standing under the entryway of the kitchen. In his hands is a bouquet of wildflowers varying in colors of white, green, yellow, and purple.

"Those are nice flowers. I'll grab a vase for them." You say and look for one under the sink cabinet. But all you find is an extra large empty can that once held baked beans. Well, it'll have to do. You take the can and fill it with water from the basin. Maddox watches you take the flowers from his hands with the utmost care. He watches how gently you put them in the can and set it on the table.

You'd make an amazing wife. The way you make this temporary house a home is admirable. Maddox never knew what he was missing until he met you. You were a thorn in his side, just a little play thing that annoyed him. You were only supposed to be a temporary pleasure but you soon turned into an irreplaceable companion. Whenever he was gone he'd miss you. When he was home he'd watch you. Every second of his life is all for you.

All because he loves you. And seeing you smile over some simple wildflowers proves that his love for you is no mistake. You're absolutely perfect, even if you don't feel the same way about him. Eventually he'll make you come around. Even if he has to use force.

"I saw em while I was out and I thought you'd like em." Maddox says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Smiling softly you adjust the flowers. "They're beautiful. Thank you."

You turn to Maddox and lock eyes with him. At the same time the both of you think to yourselves,

"Maybe he isn't too bad."

"Maybe love isn't too bad."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oc x reader #x reader #yandere oc #obsession #western #maddox graves

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diejager · 9 months ago

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Hello, i was wondering if you could do the reader retaliating against Stepdad!konig and Dbf!horangi and going out to the bar by herself and she ends up meeting Ghost and Soap and hooks up with them on the down low?

Cw: DARKFIC, STEPCEST, DUB-CON/NON-CON, drinking, alcohol, hooking up, tell me if I missed any.

You were frustrated, feelings boiling under your skin and threatening to explode if it peaked higher. You couldn’t take it anymore, how restrictive and controlling your stepdad and his friend was, going as far s to manhandling your body and tire you out with the ruthless thrusts of their girth and famished kisses from scarred and dried lips. So you did what you knew best, called your friends and sought out their help to relax and forget the week-long stress and anger. They were eager for it, happy even to have you back in their warm embrace after your stepdad kept you locked in on most nights, and they went big, boisterously gushing about the hot men and beautiful women they saw at this bar.

Impulsively, you acted out by dressing more… freely, promiscuous with how much skin you were showing up in a black skirt that flowed elegantly around your upper thighs and a bottomed blouse with a notched collar that rode up your stomach whenever you stretched your arms. Your friends had encouraged you for acting out, dressed up so prettily that they swooned and enthusiastically pulling you towards their favourite corner of the bar. A little booth where they had eyes on everyone, ogling and smiling at people who stared back at them.

You restrained yourself from downing drink after drink, sitting with your friend who was the designated driver of the group, unlike the others who drank freely, giggling and cheeks flushed pink from the rush of alcohol. You enjoyed your current cocktail, stirring the straw and wrapping your glossy lips around the tip, relishing the sweetness and the afterburnof vodka in it.

“Hey,” Cassie nudged you, her shoulders touching yours as her eyes fleeted between you and somewhere farther up, “Someone- well, some people,” she shrugged, pointing at something with her chin, “Are staring at you.”

Your eyes followed her stare, moving over a crowd of filled tables and met pairs of dark and blue eyes at the counter of the bar, gazing at you with heavy eyes. You trailed down their bodies - side profile since they turned to hold contact with you - broad shoulders and well-sculpted arms and chest. One bigger than the other, but as tempting as the other, they worked off each other well, a giant and intimidating man and a smaller and more electrifying one. You shuddered, cheeks flushing red when you realised that they were handsome despite one having his face covered by some sort of mask with a skull print.

“Them?”

“Yeah! They’ve been staring at you for a good while, ” Cassie chuckled, wrapping her arm around you, leaning forward to whisper encouragements and temptations, “Why don’t you go talk to ‘em? Might be worth shit, y’ know? You wouldn’t be stuck being lonely with me at least.”

You glanced back at her gleaming eyes, mischief swirling in her beautiful blue eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Go, I don’t mind. Someone’s gotta watch over these bitches!”

Standing from the table, you made your way towards them with renewed determination after your friends all cheered for you to “get those piece of meat”. And seeing your approach, the mohawked man slapped the masked one in the arm and nodded your way, fully turning their bodies to greet you, one with hooded eyes and another with a toothy smile, wild and thrilling.

“Hi,” you smiled shyly, fingers curling behind your back in a nervous manner.

“Hello, Hen,” he had a Scottish - or so you thought - accent in his words, heavy and beautiful as it rolled off his tongue.

You told him your name with a flustered smile and he told you his with a peck on your hand, a downright sexy grin lifting the corners of his lips. His electric blue eyes and the small wrinkles around his eyes only made him look even more irresistible, it would probably fix your problems, finding someone sweet but feral to love and fuck you.

“Meet my friend, ” he gestured to the man who’d been staring at you so intensely, dark and dreamy with those pale lashes, “We call ‘im Ghost.”

You blinked, confused by the name until you realised it was probably an alias to keep his real name hidden, much like König did. Ghost was broader than him, but shorter than the 6’10 giant that lived in your house.

“Simon for you, luv,” Ghost - Simon as he told you - graced you with his sinfully deep and raspy voice, finally turning his chest towards you and peering down at you like you were a prey that he’d devour in a bite, “Buy you another drink?”

You’ve never felt more sure about your decision when you nodded, clenching your thighs at Simon’s wandering hands and Johnny’s gentle grip on your back.

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spidermans-l-o-v-e-r · 1 year ago

Text

Twice bitten

Why is my dream to be a housewife? I’m handy okay I have a wild amount of skills I swear I’d be an amazing housewife

Pairing: Buck x Eddie x reader

Word count: ….s’all in da notes app. But I did it okay 🥹🥹🥹 I wrote a longer one it’s a miracle

Notes: I didn’t realize how desperate I was for these two until I tried finding fics for them. Whoever writes them I love you, thank you. Ps, I don’t edit shit I’m sorry

⭐️Day 16: Double Penetration⭐️

It was normal on certain days of the week for Buck to rush home, the guys teased him for it but he just laughed it off claiming he was excited to just pass out after the long day they’d had.

It was normal for Eddie to crash at Bucks place on certain days.

Why no one noticed these days coincided with each other neither man was sure, but they sure as hell weren’t going to point it out.

Everyone knew you were Bucks longtime girlfriend, you’d met after the neighbors in your apartment burnt down their own home and half of yours. There was nowhere to go that night as you sat in the back of an ambulance, an oxygen mask over your face. Buck approached you first after the fire was out, he had been watching you for a little bit and you hadn’t moved in the last 45 minutes. He looked around, uneasy at first because he knew this was stupid. But you just looked so helpless… and your house had literally just burnt down.

“I uh- I promise I’m not a serial killer” Buck joked as he approached you, you looked at him- your eyes red-rimmed and puffy.

“Okay? Cool?” Your voice was a bit hoarse from the smoke, and Buck inwardly cursed himself. That was weird as hell

“I just- you- you don’t have anywhere to go and okay I know this is weird and my boss would kill me for this… but I have a bed! And oh my god that’s not what I mean I swear it’s just-“

“Are you asking me to stay at your place?” You look up at him and his heart breaks all over again for you.

“Yeah I am” he sighs quietly “I have an overnight shift tonight and won’t be home. So, I can take you there. I’ll just say I need to change or something, just. Consider it? Please?” He handed you a piece of paper with his number on it and the rest was history. Buck could remember the night Bobby had found out he’d done that for you, he was on dish duty for two months after that.

Four months after the fire, you still hadn’t found a place to live. It was weird at first, Buck gave up almost everything for your own comfort, often crashing on a coworkers couch. But one night he came home, and you’d made dinner for him as a surprise. The moment he walked through the door you knew something was off, he let his bag fall to the floor as he kicked off his shoes and went straight to his bed, crashing on it and putting a pillow over his head.

“Buck?” You asked softly, but he continued to ignore you. You sat at the edge of the bed and lifted the pillow a bit.

“Evan?” You whispered, and he reached out, pulling you down with him and nuzzling his face in your neck.

That was the night you and Buck had gotten together.

Two months after that, Eddie showed up at the apartment to drop something off and found you there, he knew Buck was seeing someone but he didn’t know it was you he was seeing. The conversation was light and awkward but very flirty and you found yourself comfortable around him immediately. He came around more often for “just hanging out” purposes but Buck knew there was an ulterior motive.

“Do you like my girlfriend?”

Buck cornered Eddie behind the fire truck one day as they were taking a breather, getting drinks from a corner store.

“I’m sorry, what??” Eddie wiped his mouth as he nearly spit his drink out, he coughed a couple times and looked up at him “Do I like who?!”

Buck crossed his arms over his chest “My girlfriend. Y/N? Do you like her?”

Eddie’s cheeks reddened as he tried to hide it behind the bottle. He shook his head as he took another sip. “ I mean- I- she’s cool yeah I like her she’s a nice girl!”

“You know that’s not what I’m asking you” Buck rolled his eyes.

Eddie sighed as he leaned against the truck, he looked down at his hands for a moment “Yeah” he said softly “Yeah I like her”

“So just tell her”

That night Eddie came over to Bucks house and asked you to be his girlfriend too. Buck had been suspicious for a little while before he started asking you questions and the truth came out. You did like Buck… but you just happened to also like Eddie. The immense guilt you’d been feeling went away very quickly when Buck laid back on his bed, his hands behind his head

“Yeah he’s kinda hot isn’t he”

you both laughed as you laid your head on his chest and just talked about Eddie, like two school girls with a secret crush. That was also the night Buck and Eddie decided it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing if they both found each other attractive.

This brought all three of you to today. Buck got home first, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you like he hadn’t seen you in months, he was stuck at work and then crashing at Eddie’s place for the last six days in a row.

“I missed you so much pretty girl” he breathed against your neck as he kissed it, inhaling your sweet perfume.

“I missed you too babe” you laughed as he pushed you against the counter and lifted you onto it.

“My gorgeous sweet toy” He whispers. His hands slide up your side and go to take off your shirt when the door starts to unlock. Eddie walks in, looking equally as exhausted. He slowly puts his keys into his pocket as he raises an eyebrow.

“Am I interrupting something?” He asks as he sets his bag down by Bucks, and leans against the closed door

“Not if you wanted to join us.” Bucks eyes sparkle as he smiles widely. Your mouth drops as Eddie shakes his head chuckling. He removes his jacket and sets it on the hook.

“You sure she’s ready for that?” He walks over and gently turns your head to him, giving you a dizzying kiss. Buck and Eddie had been toying with the idea of talking to you about sleeping with the both of them together. It had just been taking turns or one of them watching the other with you, never all three of you at once.

“Yeah I think she might be” He starts kissing your neck again, easing your shirt over your head.

“R-ready for what?” You ask as Eddie keeps kissing you. You feel Bucks hands slide between your thighs as he leaves kisses down your neck.

“We were wondering, if you’d be up for having us both.” Eddie asks as he pulls away for a minute, smirking at the dazed look in your eyes.

“You can definitely say no and if you say yes you can absolutely use your safe word.” Buck says as he pulls away as well.

“What do you mean by ‘having you both?’” You ask as Eddie picks you up and takes you over to Bucks bed. Buck pulls off shirt as he follows and as soon as Eddie sets you down he eases you onto your back, pulling off your bra and sucking your nipple into his mouth. His hand comes up and massages your other breast as he moans softly.

“We both want to be inside you, Y/N” Eddie says as he pulls off his shirt and starts kissing you, he picks you up and puts you on top of Buck, Buck goes to your other nipple, biting and sucking at it. You moan as you tangle your fingers in Bucks hair, pulling his face up to make out with him. You lightly grind against him and Eddie smirks as he watches your body. He pulls your shorts down and leans forward, giving your cotton panties a sweet kiss.

“What do you think Y/N?” Buck asks between kisses. You reach down and unbutton his pants and Eddie helps pull them off.

“We won’t be upset if you say no, you have full control baby.” Eddie reassures you as he starts to rubs your clit through your underwear. Your hips stutter as you grind against his hand and Bucks cock through his boxers.

“Y-yeah I want to try it.” You pant as Eddie pulls your panties to the side and easily slips his fingers in your soaked cunt.

“Fuck I’m into you” Buck laughs breathlessly as you agree to it. Eddie pulls off his pants and grabs your hips, pulling you a bit closer to him. He pulls his fingers out and you whine, angling your hips towards him.

“Shhhh mi vida it’s okay” He starts to grind his cock against your ass, pushing you against Buck. Buck groans loudly as he starts to grind back. Your gasps and moans come sharper from the pressure of both of them.

Eddie finally pulls off your panties, and your legs start shaking a bit. He chuckles and helps Buck pull off his boxers.

“You ready for this pretty girl?” Buck asks as he wraps his arms around you, kissing you softly. Eddie reaches over to the bedside table and pulls out a small bottle of lube and puts some in his hand, stroking his cock and then rubbing it between your ass. This wasn’t the first time you’d done anal but it sure was the first time with the two of them. He reaches down and lifts your hips a little grabbing Bucks cock and coating it too.

“I-I’m ready” you’re a bit nervous, Eddie rubs your back lovingly.

“Remember you can stop us if you need to but we know you can take it.” Eddie lines Buck up first and he pushes into you easily, your eyes roll back in your head as you moan together, Buck can’t help the way he pumps into you immediately. Eddie chuckles and holds his hips

“You’re both so eager”

He teases your tight hole with his cock a bit and you gulp, you angle your hips a bit and bury your head in Bucks neck. He chuckles and reaches his hands down, spreading your cheeks open for Eddie.

Eddie taps your hole again and pushes in slowly. Your body jerks a bit as he fills you, he pours a bit more lube on his cock and pushes in more. You hold onto Bucks body tightly as they both fill you, your cunt squeezes tightly around Buck and he groans, fighting to keep his hips down for you. Eddie throws his head back as he moans loudly, his grip on your hips tighter and bruising.

“Fuck that’s good, fuck” he leans forward with his head on your back as he waits for you to adjust. Your body is trembling as you lay between the two of them, filled to the brim and trying to adjust to being completely filled.

“Oh my god” your voice is high pitched as Bucks hips snap and he finally loses it, thrusting into you and holding onto Eddie’s arms above you. Eddie groans as he starts thrusting too and you feel like you’re being torn apart in the best way possible. They take turns thrusting in and out of you as you cling to Buck, gasping and crying out their names.

“Ah ah fuck Y/N shit you’re so tight” Bucks mouth covers your moans as he kisses you, it’s messy with the way they’re both pumping in and out of you but it feels good. Eddie wraps his hand around your hair and tugs it back gently, pulling you up to him and starts kissing your neck, his hands slide up your sides and cup your tits as they bounce in his hands, he reaches down and starts rubbing your clit.

“Fuck you better cum pretty girl, make a mess in Bucks lap.”

You lay your head on his shoulder, whimpering and whining as Buck grabs your hips now slamming you down on them. You scream their names, babbling incoherently as you cum all over their cocks. Bucks mouth drops in awe as he watches you squirting all over them both. Your body jerks as Buck holds you down on their cocks, they both hold onto you tightly as they come together inside you. Bucks hips stutter as he pushes his cum deep inside you. Eddie pushes his cock in to the hilt and squeezes your tits, pushing every last drop inside you. He pulls out and lets you fall forward into Bucks chest, his cum drips down your pussy and over Bucks balls.

“Fucking hell man” Eddie laughs as he pants, he turns to Buck and grabs his face, kissing him softly. “You both did amazing. Especially you mi amour” he reaches for you and Buck pulls out, handing you over. Your body is shocked and exhausted as you cuddle between the two of them.

“Promise me we’ll do that again when I can feel my body again?” You ask sleepy and both Buck and Eddie chuckle as they kiss your cheeks.

“Yeah we promise we can do that again.”

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munsonkitten · 1 year ago

Text

They say it’s for his own good. Because he’s dangerous. But Steve doesn’t feel any more dangerous than he did before this whole mess. Like, seriously, he could kill literal monsters with nothing more than a bat covered in rusty nails. He doesn’t feel any more dangerous now than he did when he hit Billy Hargrove with a fucking car or when he held back in all the fights he’s ever lost. Because he could kill fucking monsters. He wasn’t gonna find out if he was capable of killing teenage boys too.

He sees Eddie sometimes.

Eddie looks dangerous, but then he always has. Even if he never was. He always had that look to him, with his leather and chains and heavy boots. Dangerous in a good way.

Now he looks bloodthirsty.

Well, ha, Steve thinks. That’s because he is.

Steve is too, but he doesn’t think that’s grounds for imprisonment. He doesn’t think that’s grounds for being held hostage in the newly reopened and renovated Hawkins Lab.

They say it’s because he’s dangerous, but if that’s the case then they should’ve locked him up years ago. They should’ve seen what was wrong with him back when he was that asshole popular kid at Hawkins High.

Every time he sees Eddie these days it’s when they’re being shoved down hallways. They have Eddie in a mask to prevent biting. Some clear plastic thing that shows his snarling face as he’s pushed. His teeth are sharp and pointed, and he has this wild look in his eyes. There’s blood inside the mask more often than not. Whether it’s someone else’s every time, or if it’s Eddie’s, Steve never really knows. A mix of both, most likely.

They make eye contact and Steve tries to tell him they’ll get out of this mess, and Eddie looks back at him like he wants to believe him, but just can’t.

Steve doesn’t blame him. He’s lost track of how long they’ve been here. He stopped counting after six months, after the lines he carved into his wall with a sharp fingernail — talon, really — became too numerous to hide behind the one pin-up girl poster they gave him for good behavior after the second week.

Weird reward, if you ask Steve. The orderly that put it up for him smirked, said something about tissues in the cabinet in the corner of his room, and then left without another word.

Really fucking weird.

The head scientist comes into Steve’s room. Steve can’t remember his name. Matthews or Mathson or… Something. Doesn’t matter. Not like Steve really needs to know. He’s just called The Doctor and that’s that.

“According to our records, today’s a very special day, indeed. Happy birthday, Steven,” he says, looking down at Steve’s chart.

So it’s February fourteenth… But —

“How old am I?” Steve asks.

“Twenty-two,” the doctor answers.

Twenty two… Which means it’s 1988. Steve’s been here over a year and a half, since June ‘86 when they took him in the dead of night. Things had been weird before that. He’d been having cravings, and Eddie came back from the dead, clawed his way out of the Upside Down all by himself. He came back different, but still the same Eddie that Steve had mourned.

Twenty two years old and he doesn’t even remember turning twenty one.

“Since it’s your birthday,” the doctor continues. “We decided you deserve a reward for being so cooperative during your stay. Something you choose yourself, anything you want — within reason, mind you. Don’t ask to get out of here because that won't be happening. But if we can get it for you, it’s yours to keep.”

“Eddie,” Steve blurts out. “I want Eddie. I want him moved into my cell permanently. Get us bunk beds or some shit.”

“Ah, yes, well,” the doctor sighs. “Mr Munson is quite….”

“Dangerous? Insane? I can keep him in check,” Steve says quickly. “Look, we were friends before all of this and now we’re in the same boat. I understand him. If you want to get through to him, do this for me and I can help.”

None of that is true, of course. He’s not gonna make Eddie do shit, and he really doesn’t think he could if he wanted to. He’s wild, a little more monster than Steve is. It probably has something to do with being stuck in the Upside Down after he died. Different, but still Eddie.

Steve doesn’t blame him for the trouble he’s been causing. He’s seen it firsthand only a couple of times, but sometimes his doctors go missing and never come back. Sometimes they’re covered in blood when they come to see him after being with Eddie.

It’s not hard to guess what happens there.

“We’ll try it,” the doctor says. “But I can’t imagine why that’s what you want.”

He writes something down on his clipboard, clicks his pen with a sigh, and stands.

“I will see what we can do.”

And then he‘s gone.

Steve waits two days. Two days where no one comes to see him, to poke him with needles or flash lights in his eyes. He’s delivered his meals through the slot in his door, but that’s all that happens. He drinks the blood they give him. Animal today, he knows. They switch it up on him, and he’s found he can tell the difference easily now. It’s not the same as human, but it does the job.

It keeps him alive. It keeps him from wanting to tear himself limb from limb because of hunger and thirst. There’s still an itch in his throat and a nagging in the back of his mind saying he’s not satisfied, but it’s better than nothing.

On the second day, he’s told to stand against the back wall, and he complies easily. Complying means rewards — it means he doesn’t get hurt. The first few days he was here he was uncooperative and they beat him. It was too much like being in the Russian bunker beneath Starcourt again.

So he stopped fighting back. He stopped spitting and hissing, he stopped trying to sink his teeth into anything he could reach. And in turn he got rewards. He’s given more time outside his room, more time to sit in a room with a rainbow around the walls and a bunch of old children’s toys.

He knows he’s at Hawkins Lab. He can feel it, can feel something in the back of his head that tells him his family is close. His real family — Robin and Nancy and Dustin and everyone else. He knows he’s in Hawkins Lab and he can’t help but wonder if El lived in the same room as him, if she pushed around the same Hot Wheels car he does when he’s bored.

He stands in his room now, and it’s really a cell, but he doesn’t like to call it that, and he watches as two men carry his bed out. Two more come in with bunk beds that look like two of the regular beds welded together — thin metal frames with thin mattresses. Straight out of a prison.

The doctor comes into the room and he’s carrying a box in his arms. Steve can’t see what’s inside it, but he thinks they might be the few personal belongings Eddie has. The box gets set on the bottom bunk. An orderly comes in with a pile of extra blankets and two pillows. Those get set on the beds, too.

They all leave without a word, but Steve knows he won’t be alone for much longer. He knows that they’re going to get Eddie to him, and soon enough, they’re both going to be able to escape. Together.

Steve doesn’t know how long he sits there on the bottom bunk, but it’s a while. He only spares a single glance into the box, and he sees a spare hospital gown, and some clean underwear inside it. There’s a book sitting on top, tattered and splattered with blood. At least Eddie has that, Steve supposes.

The heavy metal door to Steve’s room opens and Eddie is shoved in, snarling and snapping at the guard behind him, holding his hands in shackles behind his back. They have heavy wool mittens on him, his plastic mask covering the bottom half of his face. Steve’s surprised they don’t just put him in a straitjacket and throw him into a padded room.

They make eye contact, Eddie’s formerly chocolate brown eyes now deep red. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail and shows his slightly pointed ears. Steve’s look the same, and his eyes are still mostly brown, but he can see the red swirling around inside them during the few occasions he can look in the mirror.

Eddie sniffs the air through his mask, bares his teeth. Steve can see the blood in his mouth through the clear plastic.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. What if Eddie hurts him too? What if he’s… What if he’s not Eddie anymore? If the last bits of his humanity have drained out of him, if he’s been forced to let the monster inside take full control… Steve doesn’t know what he’ll do.

I’d let the monster take me, too, he thinks, and then immediately regrets it. He doesn’t want to be that, and in his head he’s holding a snarling beast back with wrought iron bars, in a cell not too different from the one his physical body stands in. He’s gotten this far. It would be a waste to not even try.

The guard leaves Eddie where he stands, still cuffed, and backs away to the door. He slams it shut and locks it, then slides open the food slot. Eddie growls, jerks at his cuffs, trying to get free.

“Munson!” the guard barks. “Back up against the door.”

Eddie backs up until he’s against the door and Steve hears the key unlocking the cuffs around Eddie’s wrists.

The mittens come off next, and both things get pulled through the slot. The guard quickly slides it shut. Eddie is free from his restraints, and now he and Steve are alone.