#I may seem bubbly but its dark in there friends | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scorpioriesling · 7 months ago

Note

Those prompts are so good omg… what if smut 38 and 15 with az !?

Midnights

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Azriel x reader

Warnings: smut, mdni, 18+, oral (fem recieving), mentions of weed and alcohol, pining if you squint

Summary: You absolutely cannot sleep, and of course you're out of all of your usual sleep-remedies. Who would be awake at this hour anyway to ask for help? You don't need to think long -- the answer comes through your phone at the moment you needed it.

SR’s Note: Thank you anon for the request and for your patience -- this uses prompts #15 and #38! Enjoy, xoxo

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Every night it was the same -- you'd always end up being scheduled late at the bar, which of course meant getting home at an ungodly hour, thus leaving you to finally lie down in bed in the very early hours of the morning.

You didn't complain; the cash folded neatly inside your bulging wallet kept you quiet about that, especially considering it was a Friday night and the customers at the bar were feeling rather generous tonight.

Although you made enough in tips on top of what you'd earned each hour, it almost made up for the job at hand. Sure, you'd spent your paid eight hours mixing and whisking away at drinks; but you'd also conversed, brought up the energy, and had to play off the frequent attention you'd recieved shift after shift.

There were only so many responses that you could come up with to "let me get your number, baby!" that were light-hearted and fun, but still dodgy enough that you didn't actually need to give it out. Can't hurt a male's ego too bad, if you piss someone off too much, it could cost you a job.

Overall, it was just exhausting.

Nonetheless -- you flipped back and forth between your sheets, desperately searching for sleep; a concept that seemed just out of reach as your eyes fluttered open for the hundredth time, no matter how many times you'd forced them shut.

Reaching toward your bedside table, you clicked the power button on your phone, the bright screen in your dark room causing you to squint at the intensity. 2:53 AM. Why couldn't you fall asleep?

Sighing, you place your phone in its original spot, flopping onto your back and running a hand over your face. You stare blankly at the ceiling, trying to decide what to do. You'd used the last of the sleepy tea that your best friend gave you -- Nesta swore by it -- and were out of weed, which always relaxed you enough that you may drift off easier.

Nesta was for sure asleep by now. She already chastized you for your plans to not attend training with her in the morning -- forgive you, that you'd choose to spend your Saturday morning sleeping in rather than watch her and her boyfriend pretend not to undress eachother with their eyes, thank you -- so, at this hour, she would be long asleep.

As you're racking your brain, your phone buzzes beside you. You reach for it once more, turning the brightness down to see the screen more clearly.

Wow. A message from the last person you'd expect tonight.

You up?

You read the text again, and again, looking up at the name and back at the gray text bubble to make sure you're seeing straight.

I am...

You stare at your phone screen blankly, waiting a few moments before three little dots pop up.

I can't sleep.

You probably should, you type back. Don't you have to be up early tomorrow?

Considering the sounds from down the hallway... I don't think anyone is going to be awake tomorrow morning for training.

You bite your bottom lip, chewing on the skin. So... Nesta definitely was awake. Awake, but... busy. You could just text her instead, ask her for some more of her tea. She would be able to get it to you, seeing as she isn't getting any shut-eye.

But, instead, you type back.

Want to come over?

✧･ﾟ: *

You're rushing around your bathroom, brushing your hair and spraying yourself with perfume when you hear a light tapping on your window. It's then that you look up, meeting your own eyes in the mirror, and scowl. He's just an acquaintence, you think to yourself. Why stress so much over how you look?

Maybe, because he is handsome.

Come on, you mentally slap yourself. You've met him only a few times anyway. He probably won't even care that much.

But you care. You really care-

It is 3 AM, he will understand.

You continue your mental battle in your head as you nervously pad over to your window, drawing the curtains and pushing the glass up. The moonlight bends around his hulking form -- and you can see his dark, touseled hair shining in the pale light. He tucks his wings behind him, leaning so suddenly close to climb through.

"Hey," he utters. You back up as he squeezes through, grunting when his feet finally hit the floor. You stare at him, looking up and down unabashedly. He has ditched his usual leathers for gray sweats, a cotton black tank, and tennis shoes.

Holy shit-

"Are you just gonna stare at me or..."

Your cheeks heat, and you quickly glance anywhere but him.

"No! Uh, no, I... welcome, uh..." you search for words, and he chuckles.

"You just get off work?" He asks, making way through your room for your living room. You trail behind him, your brow only furrowing slightly that you're following him through your apartment.

"Yes...?" You say. He plops down, making to untie his shoes and get comfy on the cushions. You simply watch in amusement, finding it rather hard to tear your eyes away from his massive biceps-

"Do you always stare or am I just now realizing it?" He teases again, kicking his final shoe off as he adjusts his hips on the couch. His arm lazily drapes over the back of it, and you scoff.

"No," you say defensively. "I am just amused that this is the first time you're in my apartment, and you are acting as if you've been here a hundred times before." You shrug, making way for the fridge.

"You got anything to drink?" He asks, changing the subject immediately. You reach inside, crouching to look between the shelves for anything other than the usual.

"Do you want alcohol? Or just a regular drink?" You ask. Azriel chuckles again, and you poke your head out for just a moment to see him smiling lightly at you and shaking his head.

"Ahh," he sighs. "You're a funny girl, Y/N." You raise an eyebrow.

"Just a normal drink, please. Don't want to be too fucked up if I'm going to try and fly out of here later." He reasons. Your heart sinks just a tiny bit at that, wishing he'd stay.

Don't be delusional.

"Water it is." You pull too bottles from the shelf, tossing one to him. He catches it, uncapping and taking a few long drinks before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You try not to stare again as you make your way to the couch beside him.

"So..." You say awkwardly, reaching for the remote to click on the TV. "What made you uh," you smile nervously. "What made you text me of all people in the middle of the night?"

Azriel shrugs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I mean, I told you about your friend and Cass. I hate when they wait so late to start with... you know... whatever they do," he avoids the word.

"Fucking?" You raise an eyebrow, and his eyes meet yours.

"Uh... yeah. That." He coughs, and you smirk, clicking through the suggested shows on Hulu.

"Still doesn't explain why you came here though. Don't you have like, a million friends? Or, a girlfriend or something? I thought you and-"

"Nahh, nah." He interjects, shaking his head. "Just the Inner Circle. Well, them and now you, I guess, since Nesta started bringin' you around."

Your heart swells, the mini-crush on this handsome male from training only growing with every minute he spends on your couch.

"I knew it'd be quieter here, I guess." He says in finality.

You pause, crossing your legs and turning to face him.

"And, how would you know that?"

"Know... what?" He asks.

"Know it would be quiet here?"

He looks side to side, playing with the silver band on his finger. "I don't know, I mean, why wouldn't it be?"

You frown. "Did you just assume I didn't have some else I was spending my time with?" His head tilts to the side in consideration.

"You know what I mean. Fucking?" A light rosy blush fans across his cheekbones, and he shakes his head.

"No, I uh, I didn't think you had anyone here. I know you didn't, actually, um, Cassian told me-"

"Told you what." You demand, inching closer and closer. The smell of mist and cedar infiltrates your senses, and you have to remind yourself to remain steadfast.

"He... he told me you weren't seeing anybody. Haven't been, for a while, actually." You pause, staring into his hazel eyes that search yours.

"Wait, what?" You say. His hand on the back of the couch slides to meet your bare arm, and you almost shudder at the contact. "W-why would he tell you that?" You ask.

Azriel leans closer, his pupils dilating with every inch he draws nearer. He's so close that you can count every light freckle on his nose, see every fracture of color in his irises -- so close, just an inch or two more and his inviting lips would be on yours.

"Because I asked him. About you." His hand on your shoulder slowly trails up, brushing across your shoulder and snaking down toward your hip. You only now realize the position you're in -- you're practically atop him, he casually leans back against the L-shaped couch, and you've all but crawled between his legs and sat in his lap at this point.

"Why ask..." you trail off, and his other hand moves to brush a fallen strand of hair from your forehead. He smiles softly up at you, his thumb brushing against the swell of your cheek.

"I had to know if I actually had a chance," he whispers, his fingers lightly holding your jaw and pulling you down to him. "Before I did this."

His lips were definitely inviting. Warm, and soft as they slid across yours, fitting perfectly against the skin of your own. He held you firmly, pulling you closer so that you were in fact straddling him as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping across your bottom lip. You allowed him in, your own dancing with his in a tango of passion as his fingers gripped your hip tighter. His other hand roamed downward, first, lightly gripping the column of your throat. You softly moaned into his mouth, and he smiled into the kiss.

His fingers kept travelling, down, down, over the curve of your breast, where he squeezed lightly before finding purchase on your other hipbone. You fingers tangled in his hair, softly skating through the strands as you continued to relish in the taste of him.

"Sweet thing," he pulls back, only slightly breathless as his half-lidded eyes meet yours. You gulp a few lungfuls of air in, and match his gaze, which is focused on your pelvis, unsubconciously moving in small circles atop his lap. He looks up at you again, chuckling before connecting your lips once more.

"You can't," he breaks the kiss for a breath. "...keep doing that..." He goes back in for more, his hands snaking behind you to grip your ass. You squeak, and he grins slyly at you. "...I can't fuck you on the first night, Y/N," he says, his gaze finding yours again. Oh, how good your name sounds coming from his lips...

"You'll see me for more than just one night?" You ask, and his eyes soften as he pulls you in for another quick peck.

"I'd like to see you every night, if you'd allow me." You giggle, and he smiles warmly up at you before pressing a trail of sweet kisses from the corner of your mouth, down your jawline in a descent over the column of your neck. He lightly bites on the junction between your neck and shoulder, eliciting another soft whine from you.

"Azriel..."

You can feel the pressure between your legs only growing, the thin material of his sweatpants the only barrier between your cotton shorts and his hardening length. He pulls back, his hands lifting you off of him for a moment as he slides down to lay flat on the couch.

"Az... what-"

"Sit on my face, baby." He asks, his fingers tugging on your hips as he adjusts his wings underneath him. Your eyes widen, and he pulls on the waistband of your shorts. "Please... I want to take care of you."

You stand, shucking off your tiny shorts and watch as he marvels at the thong you had on underneath. You peel if from you, discarding them before returning to position yourself right over his awaiting mouth.

"Mmm," he hums, his lips kissing the inside of your thighs softly as you tremble over him. You can feel your arousal leaking from your core, surely trailing down your inner thighs at this point, and you place your hands on the back of the couch as his deliciously rough hands grip your ass again.

"So fucking perfect Y/N..." he mumbles, licking a slow stripe between your folds that has you gasping. "So fucking wet, just for me."

His lips press into you, his tongue working to stimulate every last nerve ending you have down there as you grip the back of the couch, whining and panting pathetically above him. His hands search across your ass, gripping your hips, and holding your thighs wide for him when you try to close them around his head.

"Fuck, Azriel... eating me so good..." you cry out as his lips find your clit, sucking on it harshly without warning. You feel the liquid fire in your lower belly being set ablaze, growing hotter and hotter with each expert flick of his tongue against your dripping heat-

"Mhmm, you like it when I eat you out?" He mumbles, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. You throw your head back, moaning loudly as his tongue dodges in and out of your core.

"Fuck! Please... oh Gods.. yes Az-" you pant, your hands braced behind you on his thighs as your eyes look down to meet his. Your met with a sinister stare as his mouth detaches from you one last time.

"Come for me, sweet girl," he commands. You cry out desperately, his tongue so deep inside you that his nose nudges your clit with each minstration. A few more swipes of his lips against your pussy, and you're coming undone.

"Azriel!" You groan, your lower half slightly shaking as your orgasm shoots through you. His hands hold you in place over him, his tongue licking up every last drop of you that spills out before kissing your inner thighs one more time.

He delicately lifts you off of him, laying you down on the cushions as he stands up beside the couch, leaning down to kiss you deeply. You can taste yourself on him, and he allows you to by kissing you longer, and longer...

"Sweet girl," he pulls back, his hand cupping your cheek lightly. You gaze up at him, all the adoration in the world as his chin glistens in the moonlight with your essence. "Tell me where I can find you a towel?"

Your heart melts, and you silently point to the bathroom. He makes his way over, coming back a few moments later with a warm rag to help clean you up. You move to take it from him, but he only shakes his head at you.

"I said I would take care of you," he offers. You stare at him, bewildered where your night has gone and what all has come out of it. Once you're clean, he simply picks you up in his arms, carrying you gently to your bed before resting you upon it and tucking the covers around you comfortably.

"Az," you reach for him when he moves to leave your bedside, and he turns to face you once more.

"Yes?" He asks. You grab his hand, pulling him close to you.

"Please, stay?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair again. "You know I want to-"

"So stay," you cut in.

"We haven't even had a first date yet," You can practically see the war in his eyes, but reluctantly, he folds his wings in close and walks around to the other side of the bed and pulls the blankets back.

"I don't want you to think this is just for the night," he continues, nuzzling in close and pulling you flush against his chest. "I want things to be more than... just, something for one night, Y/N."

"I do too Az, really," you kiss his cheek, and he grins.

"And, I promise, I won't think its just for one night. I'll trust you," you say, and his fingers roam over your bare bottom, resting comfortably there as his heavy-lidded stare meets yours once more before you drift off in his warm embrace.

"As long as you come back tomorrow."

✧･ﾟ: *

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

Text

Seeing Stars 2

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Summary: You struggle to be star struck by the world's most famous super soldiers. (grumpy!short!reader)

Note: Guess this is happening.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your image in print makes you cringe again. If you keep doing that, you're going to form a few new wrinkles. It's hard to describe the expression on your face; somewhere between a gape and a grimace. Bonita doesn't seem to notice as she waves the signed photo in glee.

"Oh my god! Mo is going to hella jealous," she chimes.

You grumble. Another pair of thunder gods barge by and you stop short to keep from getting bonked by a foam hammer.

"They couldn't crop me out?" You wonder.

"Heyyyyy, no way. Then it'd only be me and cap," she whines. "You look fine."

She isn't looking at you. She's too obsessed with herself, perched perfectly in Steve Rogers' arms. You glower at your likeness and roll your eyes.

You shrug as if trying to wriggle free of the touch no longer there. It's there in the picture, that unwelcome embrace. It just happened so fast. You don't touch. You don't hug. Bonita gets on for her birthday and one for Christmas and outside of that, you have your bubble.

"My feet are killing me," you drone.

"You're not tapping our already, are you?" She chirps.

"No, but I could use a coffee. Maybe sit for a few."

"I don't want to miss the costume competition," she hums. "How about you come find me?"

"That works."

You'll agree to anything if it gets you a break from all this. You feel your battery flickering. You're at 12% socially and recharging will take days, if not weeks.

"I'll text if I get lost," you assure her.

You part and go in search of one of the vending machines you passed a few minutes ago. You're not outwardly sardonic, or you try not to be. When people describe you as deadpan, you're often surprised they pick up on that. You say as little as you can but some people take silence negatively.

You tap your card for the overpriced instant cappucino. The machine churns noisily and a cup drops down onto the tray. The brown espresso mix spits from the nozzle. Its aromatic even if you expect a watered down flavour.

You take the cup and blow over it. You keep away from the hordes of fandom devout. You wind along the wall and find a quiet hallway. You lean by the emergency exit and sip your coffee.

You close your eyes and sigh, tilting your head back as you let the coolness of the wall soothe you. You inhale as the thrum of the crowd drifts in. You don't want to go back.

There's some scuffing at the end of the hall. Your head snaps up and you stand straight, expecting a staff member to chase you out. Worse. It's one of them.

"Oh hey," the blond slows as he comes down the hall, stopping midway. "Um... didn't expect anyone back here."

You stare at Steve Rogers and take another drink, "just on my way out." You glance at the door to your left; 'Employees Only'. The placard beneath denotes a restroom. Makes sense, he can't piss with the peons.

"You got a photo," he says as you edge down the hall, keeping near the wall as you try not to get close.

"My friend did, yeah."

"Wait? You didn't get a copy? I can pull a few strings."

"No thanks," you stop a foot away from him, realising he's too big to squeeze by.

"You alright?" He asks, sounding genuinely concerned. Your forehead furrows but you stop the frown from reaching your lips, "I'm fine."

"These things give me a headache too," he says.

How presumptuous. Even if your head is feeling a bit dull.

"VIP is pretty nice. There's a lounge. I could get you and your friend some passes. Hear they got real coffee too," he gestures to your cup. "I don't know for sure, I don't get to enjoy it much."

"That's... too nice," you insist. "Excuse me, I gotta find my friend."

You motion past him but he only moves an inch, "need help?"

You look at him and shake your head, "I'll find her." You waggle your phone at him and turn, sidling by slowly. At last your free but at the cost of a few drops of coffee as it sloshes in your cup. It's bland. You toss it at the first bin. What a waste.

You find Bonita near the contest banner. She looks unimpressed as she pouts and crosses her arms. You near as a yawn threatens to break free.

"What's up?" You ask.

"Didn't qualify for the contest," she mopes. "So, guess I'll watch."

"Hm, there's a prize?"

"Just a gift card but still," she says.

"Ah, too bad."

"Well..." she looks around, "how about the raffle? The grand prize is a your of the Avengers compound or something."

You try not to show your disinterest. She better not invite you to that too. Ha, it's a long shot anyway. You'll humour her for a bit longer.

"Sure, why not."

You follow her over to the table. The staff at the table fill out the ballots for you using your ticket numbers. You give your information mindlessly, figuring there's enough people there that you'll forget you even bothered.

"That's so awesome," Bonita trills. "Can you imagine?"

You would hate it. You know. You like a museum tour or even a solitary stroll through the library but some good will act for good PR? You'll pass.

"I hope you win," you say to Bonita.

"Me too. I have so many questions!" She begins to ramble as you only half-listen.

As you walk along the booths, your eyes wander through the milling bodies. You squint as a head of golden hair bobs at the far end of the room and pauses. Even on your toes, you can't see enough to confirm your suspicions. What does it matter anyway? Good luck to the Cap finding his way back through these fanatics. You don't envy his lot, you hardly covet your own.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #dark steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #series #drabble #seeing stars #marvel #mcu #captain america #winter soldier #avengers

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aw1tht33tha · 1 year ago

Text

Feeling feral enough, darling?

Astarion gets turned into a delicious whimpering puddle (and a bit of a feral animal) with the powerful magic of sensual femdom, pegging and lots of love. Just the way this man deserves.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pairing: Spawn Astarion/F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 5.1k

Tags/Warnings: 18+, BDSM, femdom, power play, bondage, dirty talk, teasing, edging, cunnilingus, blowjob, pegging, rough PinV sex, body worship, sensory deprivation (sight/touch), praise kink, sensitive elf ears, orgasm denial, biting, scratching, blood drinking, high heels, fetish, fluff and sass, two horny sadistic assholes in love, established relationship, more or less cannon compliant, cat in the end

Read on AO3 or indulge right here:

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Astarion’s mind is spinning these instructions on repeat as he opens the front door and enters your deceivingly quiet home:

Take a bath.

Enter the bedroom naked.

Kneel next to the bed.

Put a blindfold on.

Wait.

Surrendering control wasn’t novel for a vampire spawn. However, giving it up fully and willingly for shared pleasure with his lover felt deeply alluring, but a little intimidating still. Astarion is too used to lavishing others with attention and keeping his grip tight on the reins out of necessity, rather than his own desire. But it should be different now. The newfound safety of your relationship gifted him a chance to learn letting go and truly enjoying himself for the first time in what seemed like a fucking eternity.

He feels slightly anxious as he undresses and discards clothes on the floor, crimson eyes locked on a steamy bath with bubbles, prepared lovingly in time for his arrival.

It’s been almost a year since both Cazador and Netherbrain fell to their deaths. The bond you’ve built together since then felt stronger than ever. No masters to serve, just following your own hearts. And yet, worries that pain and disgust may flood back from the depths of his past again gnaw at the back of his mind. He wants this to be perfect. To take a leap of faith and feel good and present, blissed out with you tonight. Free of his demons. For good.

“This is what I want, isn’t it?”

Take a bath.

He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes for a few seconds trying to settle his nerves, then steps into the bathtub to clean off blood, sweat and dirt of his last bounty kill. Warm water embraced his cool body and relaxed sore muscles almost instantly, freeing his mind to reminisce about more pleasant things from the recent past.

Being an adventurous “hero” proved to be a surprisingly fun and profitable pastime, quite deliciously filling too if you happen to be a vampire. “Turns out nobody really cares about the murder… as long as you murder the right people.” Astarion recalls his joke at a party with your group of weirdo friends and it turns the corners of his lips up a little.

He starts making quick and thorough work of getting himself clean with fragrant soap, shampoo and conditioner. Pleasant as it is to soak and indulge in a self-care routine, it seemed just a bit cruel to make you wait for this perfect body for too long.

A few minutes pass and Astarion is out of the tub and sufficiently dried off - damp silver locks falling charmingly out of order and white towel wrapped scandalously low around his hips. He grabs the bathroom door handle confident enough to proceed with the next step.

Enter the bedroom naked.

“Right, naked” – he freezes. With one swift motion towel flies off his lean body to join the pile of its cotton siblings stacked in the corner. He crosses a dark corridor, anticipation starting to build up in his chest. Your shared bedroom reveals itself in all its intimate glory and comfort.

Closed heavy blinds, fresh dark silken sheets on a spacious bed, fluffed pillows arranged in an unusually orderly manner and almost ridiculous amounts of candles bathing the room in gentle warmth, pleasant scents, and dancing lights. So very you and him. The top of the bedside table appears busier than most days, displaying a carefully lined up selection of sex toys and ropes. All quite familiar to Astarion, yet he doesn’t know when and how exactly any of those are going to be used tonight and it is positively intriguing.

The only sound in the room is produced by candle wicks softly crackling in the background. Astarion takes a moment to sink in the atmosphere and looks around.

Kneel next to the bed.

His gaze stops at a big red pillow invitingly laying in the middle of the room close to the bed. A simple black blindfold is resting on top. He circles around and slowly lowers himself down on his knees. No one is commanding a vampire to do so except his own little voice. He yearns for your presence already and picks up a blindfold.

“Curious how we got here,” Astarion thinks as he gently runs his fingers along the soft black fabric, grateful for all the time you’ve spent together up until this moment. How it literally turned his undead life around and made him experience everything he thought was impossible or unreachable. Everything he thought wasn’t meant for him – freedom, salvation, friendship and… love.

Especially love. Somehow, he found himself not only caring deeply for you, but slowly nurturing some love and acceptance for himself. A truly unexpected turn of events.

Put a blindfold on.

The blindfold slides over his beautiful eyes and Astarion finds himself depraved from one of the prime senses to rely on. An exciting image of you invades his mind and he starts wondering if you are going to wear anything at all tonight.

His brain naturally shifts focus to what he can hear, touch, taste, and smell instead.

Your voice. What are you going to ask of him tonight? Will you let him make you scream his name?

Your skin. So soft and warm, he craves to glide his fingers all over your body right this instant.

Your scent. That unique blend of indescribable “you” with a hint of perfume or whatever fragrant skin care you just couldn’t stop stealing from his shelf like the adorable fetishist you are.

Your blood. That sweet life essence you are kind enough to share, keeping him hopelessly addicted from the first bite.

And wait.

Wait for your arrival and then dive into the unknown. Well, not that unknown since you both discussed your desires a few days prior, leaving just a touch of mystery on the details. “Gale of Waterdeep” was chosen to serve as your shared safe word, cause who else possessed an ability to kill the mood faster than a walking encyclopaedia?

This is, without a doubt, the sweetest torture for Astarion so far in the night. Just kneeling still and ready, wondering which of the obscene scenarios generated by his mind in your absence was going to become a reality. He did exactly what you asked him to do already, and he couldn’t wait for more.

It isn’t too long before his head instinctively turns towards the sound of steps approaching the room. A measured, confident pace accentuated by an unmistakable clack of heels meeting wooden boards sends a little shiver up his spine.

Finally.

You open the door without haste and your eyes are met with probably the best sight you could ever imagine:

A devastatingly beautiful elf is kneeling at your mercy, exposed and blindfolded, his perfect marble skin bathed in candlelight. Soft silver locks allowed to arrange themselves with less restraint than usual. His cock is hard for you already, twitching and leaking precum as you take your time to shut the door and take a few steps closer. His chest is heaving in anticipation, those beautiful tender lips parted slightly, both arms digging through his own thighs not daring to touch himself where he is dying to be touched right now.

Astarion looks properly riled up by his own imagination already. Letting him marinate and fight against his own impulsive nature worked even better than you anticipated. You shake off a strong temptation to sabotage the whole scene and dive down to devour him right where he is. It would be a crime to end the session so soon and you find the strength in yourself to stick to your plan of taking him completely apart piece by piece.

“Hello, my sweet,” your flirty voice is barely above a breathy whisper, and he can tell you are saying it through a wide smile without even needing to see your face.

A raspy “I missed you so much,” is all Astarion can manage to reply as his nose catches intoxicating mix of pulsing blood in your veins, arousal building up between your thighs, and surely his own perfume you’ve stolen again as you position your hips mere inches away from his gorgeous face.

“Did you? How about a proper greeting, then?”

You gently raise his chin with a curled index finger and run your thumb across soft parted lips making him gasp and desperately lean into your touch. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his own fingers lightly grazing the pillow, crawling their way towards your feet in the darkness.

“No touching until I say so.” Your warning makes him slightly raise his hands in defeat and put them back on his thighs. He manages to behave while your thumb invades his mouth to meet with a hungry vampire tongue, even when your other hand caresses his neck and jawline in admiration. It’s the feather light tracing of his pointy ear from earlobe to the tip that makes Astarion shudder and send his seeking arms forward again.

No, he won’t be able to keep his hands away from you or himself at this rate, so you stop and take a step back as soon as his fingers make contact with the tips of your shoes. Astarion lets out a soft disappointed moan, his body leaning forward craving any attention you would graciously descend upon him.

“Please, I’m burning to touch you, my love.�� He is on the steady path of falling apart already.

Delightful.

“You’ll have your chance if you’re patient enough. Wrists together behind your back.”

He reluctantly obliges your command. You reappear behind him with a short red rope to lean down and restrain him with a simple double column tie. That should take care of his mischievous rogue hands for now and you circle around to face him again.

“Now, where were we?”

Before Astarion has a chance to come back with anything at all, your right foot lightly grazes against his left knee and you drag the blunt nose of your pump up his leg, ghosting over the aching length of his cock almost as if by accident. His abdominal muscles clench and he lets out a shaky sigh, baring his fangs. Observing this man’s reactions to teasing is quickly becoming your new favourite form of entertainment. You rest your foot on his upper thigh applying just enough pressure to make the heel sting slightly, keeping him sitting low.

“You may worship whatever you can reach with your lips.”

He eagerly leans forward, and his mouth starts travelling up your inner thigh kissing, licking, nibbling on your smooth skin like a starved man. Payback time, darling, Astarion thinks reaching that place where your leg connects to pelvis and caressing you agonisingly slow with his firm tongue, so close to your sex you almost wobble. You run your fingers through his white curls gripping firmly to find stability.

Astarion quickly realises you are not wearing any panties, so he keeps on leaving tender kisses and passionate licks all around your folds and clit, never giving you more than his hot breath over the very centre. He knows exactly how to drive you dripping wet and desperate, pussy clenching over nothing. Difference is, he is not really in control this time, so you intend to serve him a reminder and tilt his head back, pulling hard on silver locks.

“I think you’re missing a spot,” you manage in between intensified breaths.

“Sorry, darling. If only I could see what I was doing,” he sounds almost convincingly apologetic, but a tiny smug smile gives him away. Astarion knows exactly what he’s doing to you. He won’t be getting away with anything easy tonight, though… despite his impressive arsenal of ways to melt your body and mind into a whimpering puddle.

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you.” You cup his perfect face gently before adding, “stick your tongue out for me, gorgeous.”

Your confident yet warm tone makes him obey before even thinking. This feels refreshingly fun and liberating - not having to think much and simply relying on you to lead this dance to ecstasy however you desire.

You bring his face closer and roll your hips forward forcing his tongue to part the folds and finally get to the most sensitive parts of your sex. A much anticipated sensation hits you almost like a jolt of electricity and you have to dig your fingers in his neck and shoulders to keep your balance.

“Now, be a good boy and make me come.” You push the words out quickly before starting to lose yourself on Astarion’s skilled tongue. He is lapping your cunt devotedly, flexing muscles against the restrains, moaning softly. No toying around, witty remarks or aiding with fingers, just completely lost in eating you out with passion.

It doesn’t take much time for him at all to tighten up the coil of pleasure in your lower belly and for you to release it, holding on to him firmly as your legs dangerously give in to the weakness. Gods below, these damn heels don’t help either and you barely manage to ride out your orgasm not collapsing down.

You take a few moments to unwrap your arms from Astarion and steady your breath a little. “You did so well, my love… giving me exactly… what I asked for.”

As a reward, you take off the blindfold and carelessly toss it on the floor, the elf below you then greedily drags his gaze up your body. You are wearing nothing but high heels and one of his slutty black shirts you shamelessly snatched from his wardrobe earlier. Unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, fabric loosely dripping down your back and ass, it’s not really covering anything in front. His burning eyes meet yours. “Anything for you, beautiful.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Stand up.”

You take a small step back and let him rise on his feet. Usually, Astarion would tower over you being a few inches taller, but the heels keep you almost the same height letting your eyes level with his. He finds himself enjoying this new perspective.

You let your nails and fingertips gently explore under his jaw, down his neck and over the clavicles. Then you close the gap between your lips inviting Astarion for a heated kiss, tasting your own deliciousness still lingering on his tongue. With his arms still tied he can’t do anything but struggle against the rope and desperately try to melt his whole naked body against yours seeking familiar warmth or any form of friction you would allow.

You decide to give in to this sweetness and lower your hands to pull your lover closer by the waist. Astarion uses this opportunity to push into the kiss even more and grind himself against you, leaving trails of sticky precum all over your belly. It’s too easy to get drunk on his eagerness and you have to peel yourself away before you’re too far gone. There is much more to do after all.

“A good little vampling like you deserves a treat, you know?” You whisper in his ear mischievously as you nudge him to take a few steps back towards the bed.

He sits down watching your every move through a haze of lust. You circle the edge of the bed and sit behind, brushing your lips against his ear as you half-whisper a new command. “I need you to get on bed fully and lay down on your back for me. Can I trust you to behave well and not touch anything you shouldn’t?”

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you hear sincerity in his reply, and set his arms free for now. Astarion wastes no time doing what he was asked to. You ditch your shoes and crawl on top of him straddling his waist. He tentatively lifts his forearms from the sheets anticipating you to restrain him again.

“Well, look who’s finally playing along,” you smile, playfully drawing random patterns on his chest with your fingertips. “Being tied up growing on you?”

“It’s you. Surrendering to you like this is growing on me,” his soft breathy confession travels right to your core. You bring his right wrist up to your lips and kiss it gently.

“Oh, I think you will love what I’m about to do next,” you give him a smug look and stretch the arm you were holding towards the upper corner of the mattress. Reaching under the pillows at the headboard you produce a thick leather handcuff connected to the bedframe with a rope.

Astarion lets you close and secure it around his wrist with an excited sigh. “Gods, you really planned everything out.”

You throw him another confident smile and repeat the same steps with the other wrist.

There is now a beautifully splayed vampire on your bed and it’s time for the main course. You shuffle back slightly, spread your thighs and press his legs down with your shins making it much harder for him to move his hips. You lower yourself down and start worshipping his exquisite body, letting your hands and mouth freely explore and trace all his lines and curves. Broad chest and shoulders, sensitive neck and nipples, firm abs, narrow hips – no part is left without your thorough attention. You deeply enjoy discovering every possible reaction he can give you while you caress and scratch, kiss and nibble, lick and breathe down his flawless ivory skin.

His hitched breaths and hisses gradually evolve into soft quiet moans the longer it continues and further down you go. When your arms and hot tongue leisurely reach his hips, your hair and the collar of the shirt start lightly brushing against his aching neglected erection. He can't stay more or less composed anymore.

"P-please, love," his urgent plea makes you raise your head and catch his longing gaze, pupils blown wide.

"Hmm?" You tilt your head and raise an eyebrow, waiting for more elaborate begging.

Astarion doesn’t wait for you to nudge him further. “Please, I need you. Your hands, your mouth, anything...”

"Like this?" You position your tongue at the base of his hard girthy cock and glide it up, savouring his taste, feeling it twitch against your touch. You pay extra attention to the pale pink tip, suckling on it gently and cupping his balls with your hand.

"Mhmm... yes, please… more," his purring approval reaches your ears, and you dive down on his length, taking in as much as you can on the first go before sliding back up and releasing him with a little pop. Astarion is quickly becoming a writhing mess as you repeat the pattern a few more times.

Your movements are slow and deliberate as you alternate between hand strokes, sucking or just teasingly kissing all around his delicious cock and balls. You are not being consistent with your pace or type of stimulation on purpose, attempting to drag out his pleasure as long as possible. It only works somewhat effectively as he is obviously on a steady ascend towards his climax no matter how chaotic you are in toying with him. There is just too much pent-up energy aching to burst out.

His head is slowly tilting back, erection almost rock-hard, and erratic exhales start breaking into moans. This is your cue. The perfect timing. You drop everything you were doing at once and pull yourself up into sitting between his legs, watching him break apart groaning and throwing his hips up in the air, finding nothing to help him finish. He was oh so close and you just denied him the much-awaited moment of bliss.

“Why must you be so cruel?” He loudly whimpers, shutting his eyes and rubbing his feet against the sheets in frustration.

“Cruel, my dear?” You climb over him and slide off the bed to pour yourself a glass of water from the pitcher. “I’m merely serving a fantasy. You know the words if it’s getting too...”

“No!” He interrupts and his wide red eyes meet yours. He adds a much softer, “please continue.”

You take a few sips of water and rest the glass back on a bedside table, inspecting the toys on display. You go for a small bottle of thick lube, a girthy glass butt plug and a strapless strap-on.

“Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? As I recall…”

You theatrically clear your throat to proceed with your best “Astarion” impression as you climb back on a bed armed with new tools to ruin him.

“I want you to torture me with pleasure, darling! Tease and edge me to your heart’s delight. Make me go feral for the sweetest release by the end of it…”

You prop one of the pillows under his ass for extra comfort and position yourself in between his slender legs. Then you gently tap him to spread wide open, knees bent high in the air. You generously coat your fingers in lube and start teasing his entrance and continue quoting him almost word for word.

“I know it may not be easy to achieve, unless you are, well, a seasoned professional like me,” you pause to imitate his high-pitched giggle. “But please make your best attempt.”

Astarion is taken aback by the sheer audacity of you mocking him like that, and can only watch your performance with his jaw open. You bend over and place the weight of your body on his chest getting your lips closer to whisper in his ear:

“…or something like that.”

Your index finger effortlessly slips inside, earning you his sweet gasp.

There is no rush as you slowly curl your digit inside him, kissing his neck and playfully nibbling on his earlobe. Soon enough, second finger joins the first and you feel Astarion’s calves brushing against your backside as he relaxes into the feeling of being stretched out. You raise yourself on one elbow to find his lips and start kissing tenderly, noses brushing together. You are eager to share just how much you’re pleased with him without any words.

He hums sweetly and wraps his legs around your waist when you carefully add a third finger in and push a little deeper inside. His cock is leaking precum on his abs, twitching against your lower belly.

“I’m so ready for you,” he rasps quietly, and you feel a rush of wetness, igniting your desire to give him everything you can. What did you do to deserve this world-endingly beautiful man melting under you like this?

You raise up and slide your fingers out carefully. While giving his shaft lazy pumps with one hand, you are fitting in the strap-on with the other. Even though a strapless variety is harder to keep in place, you appreciate extra feedback and pleasure it can provide. One more coat of lube for good measure and you are ready to invade his body again.

Taking it very slowly you line up the tip of your strap with his hole and dive in inch by inch, sending shivers up his spine. You give him a couple of seconds to adjust and then push under his knees encouraging Astarion to practically fold in half as you choose your preferred angle. Time to clench your pussy and get to work.

You are rolling your hips in rhythmic deep thrusts and manage to snake one hand in between your bodies to stroke him as well. The end of the strap within rubs deliciously against your tense walls. Sweet praises leave your lips as you fuck him gently.

“Such a good boy, taking me so well.”

“You look breathtaking just like this.”

“I love making you feel good.”

Doesn’t take too long until Astarion is reduced to sweat and loud whimpers, eyes shut and completely lost in his own world of rapture. He is about to fall over the edge at any second, arms grasping at the ropes that hold him in place, legs wrapped around your waist. You are not too far behind yourself and it's extremely tempting to just keep on going until it shatters you both into pieces.

You listen closely to his telltale signs not to miss the right moment. And then you pull out and break away from him. Again. This time he almost flies off the sheets after you. The whole bed frame shakes at his attempt to escape his restraints and chase you.

“Feeling feral enough, darling?” You pant heavily and toss aside the strap, brushing away strands of hair stuck to your face. A growl and flash of fangs is all you get as a reply.

“Shhh.. shh.. I just want to feel you inside me as you come undone.”

It almost feels like you are approaching an injured tiger as you try to get through to whatever humanity is still lingering in his brain.

“Allow me?” You show him the glass plug and he stills just enough for you to glide it inside, giving him at least some feeling of fullness back.

“Last thing I’m going to ask you to do…” You reach to free Astarion from leather cuffs while he practically burns holes in your face with a smoldering stare. “...is to fuck me however you want.”

You free up his right arm and he grabs your shoulder immediately, scrunching his own shirt roughly. Before you can even process what happened, you are pinned down on your back and have to somehow reach your arms from under him to get his other wrist. He is pushing your thighs apart urgently, lining himself as your fingers clumsily fiddle with the buckle on the other cuff.

Astarion shakes the damned thing off and holds you down in a squeezing embrace as he drives himself into your dripping wet pussy with a single powerful thrust, burying himself up to the very hilt. That hip-slapping entrance makes you see sparks and hold on to his back for dear life. Right away he sets a fast and punishing pace that makes the corners of your eyes water from intensity. His head drops to nuzzle your neck and send hot shaky breaths into your bare skin.

There is no holding back. Nothing, but pure animalistic lust as he rails you with vengeance. The sensation of being fucked helplessly like this is overwhelming and you feel him all over your sensitive spots, stretching you deep and to absolute capacity. Your legs start trembling and you are digging nails into his scarred back as he bites down on the curve where your neck meets the shoulder. And this mutual exchange of piercing pain is all it takes to finally finish you both.

You’ve never felt or heard either you or Astarion come so violently until tonight. Waves of orgasm hit you both like a screaming tsunami. If his undead vampire heart was still beating it would surely leap out of his chest right there and then, as he was spilling everything you made him hold back inside you, arms gripping even harder, fangs sinking deeply.

For a few moments it seems like you have merged into a single entity – one body and soul in a state of absolute incomprehensible mess, riding high on your climactic waves. When it’s over, you both are slowly coming back to your senses. Astarion carefully retracts his sharp canines from the wounds that guarantee to leave bruises and starts gulping your blood. His grip also softens, and you both enjoy the intimate closeness of him feeding on you for a bit, steadying your breaths. He laps and licks your puncture wounds, drawing just enough blood to make you feel a little dizzy, while satisfying his own urge to taste you.

“You alright, my love?” He is the first to check in, searching your eyes with a smidge of worry as he realises he may have been a little too wild, even by his own unhinged standards.

“I am great. This was incredible,” you manage a tired but happy smile and lazily run your fingers through his unruly curls while he pulls out of you, gets rid of the plug and tosses all the toys back on the bedside table. “How do you feel?”

“I’m not even sure how to put it all into words yet. It was liberating? Intense? Ecstatic? Certainly fun! I’ve never experienced anything like this before. You were amazing, thank you“ Astarion melts your soul with the softness of his gaze. A little pause and then it turns a little naughty. “And I will be asking for more. Although, we have to do something about your cute obsession with stealing my things before it gets out of hand.” He slightly tugs on the collar of his shirt you were wearing this whole time and smirks. You chuckle at his glowing review and pepper his face with small kisses.

Next few minutes are spent side by side cuddling, joking and whispering sweet nothings to each other, refusing to let go just yet.

“Darling, just how many lovers did you have to go through to get this good?”

“Not as many as you had to. I’m a natural, you see.”

“Oh, are you now?”

He purrs the question in your ear and playfully rolls on top, caging you with his limbs only to freeze a mere inch away from your lips, his face looking like he just remembered something mildly concerning.

“Where is His Majesty?”

“Oh shit, I locked him in the kitchen to spare us his judging gaze.”

“You did what?!”

“Hold on, I’ll let him out.”

You almost jump out of his embrace and quickly disappear to free the forgotten cat. A few loud disapproving hisses later that smug hairless bastard enters the bedroom like he owns the place, you are merely trailing behind. His Majesty gracefully leaps on a bed wasting no time to curl up next to his favourite elf. Astarion may be the only person in the entire Faerun, you are convinced, who somehow found a way to tame that ball of absolute feline sass.

“Natural, she says. Can you believe that woman?” He coos and kisses the cat's forehead.

His Majesty throws you one last glance before melting into Astarion’s hands as you crawl back under the blanket. You can’t help but adore these two cuddling in the most sickeningly sweet way possible. Even when these brats are seemingly plotting against you.

The last candles are blown out and the sunrise is fast approaching as all three of you settle to rest in one pile of blissful comfort, saving any worries, big or small, for later.

#astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #spawn astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #astarion romance #smut #fluffy smut #astarion fic #baldurs gate iii #baldurs gate fanfiction #bg3 astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate

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redvexillum · 4 months ago

Text

@inuhalfdemon I knew I could count on you to spice things up a bit! Listen, you made @safination a very happy lil gal with this ask, I'll have you know. I'll even change it up from my usual style, and write this purely in Alastor's POV. Not sure if you like human Alastor, but I hope you do after this ☆ ～('▽^人)

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, blood play, ♡ral sex, unhinged!alastor, briefly imply cannibalism, infidelity, alastor has scars, unhinged!alastor, branding with knife, obsessive!alastor, period typical racism, maybe bordering yandare!alastor (?)

Alastor was going to kill you.

He had no doubt about it. You, with your pristine life – riches, status, and a marriage that looked flawless from the outside. Everything about you seemed perfect, a picture of untouchable elegance.

But Alastor knew the truth lurking beneath that polished exterior. He knew your husband was nothing more than a filthy, corrupt official – extortion, blackmail, murder of the helpless, especially those of colour. By association, you must have shared in his sins, whether by action or silence.

For Alastor, his prey was always chosen with care. He wouldn’t dirty his hands with the innocent. His mother had raised him better than that. The streets were crawling with vile creatures, and there was no shortage of filth to cleanse. Killing wasn’t just a necessity – it was a thrill, a ritual he savoured.

The sweet satisfaction of purging evil from the world, leaving it a little cleaner, a little darker, but always better. It was his art, his craft, and each kill were a masterpiece. You were supposed to be another one.

He watched you, lurking in the shadows, memorizing every detail. The way your arm draped over your husband’s like a serpent coiling around its prey. That perfect smile – too perfect, like a mask you wore every day, hiding the darkness he knew must linger beneath. Alastor studied you relentlessly, plotting the exact moment to strike, the precise time to drag you into the depths of his bayou and erase that false, disgusting smile forever.

But something shifted, something he hadn’t foreseen.

One afternoon, as Alastor sat on a park bench, his lips curling into a grin behind his newspaper, amused at the latest article about the “Bayou Butcher,” he felt the sunlight dim. A shadow fell across the print. He looked up, ready to snarl at the interruption, but his breath caught.

It was you, standing before him. Your fingers fidgeted nervously, a soft smile playing on your lips, and at that moment, you weren’t the victim he had imagined.

“May I help you?” Alastor asked, his tone honeyed, concealing the whirlwind of confusion brewing inside. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Why was his prey coming to him?

You gasped lightly, and then, as if the heavens themselves were laughing in his face, a giggle bubbled up from your throat – sweet, melodic...

...Intoxicating.

“Are you the radio broadcaster for station 66.6?” Your eyes sparkled with innocent excitement, that same radiant smile now directed at him.

His lips twitched, the faintest flicker of amusement and wariness passing through him. How had you recognize him? His voice was the only part of him ever to broadcast.

Sensing his unspoken question, you raised a hand to your lips in apology, looking shyly to the side before meeting his gaze again. “I’m actually a good friend with Mimzy. When I told her I was a fan of your show, she pointed you out when you were at her speakeasy the other night.” You smiled nervously, twisting your hands together. “I wanted to approach you then, but...I suppose my nerves got the best of me.”

At that moment, something in Alastor changed. He convinced himself that this was fate. You, his prey, presenting yourself to him so willingly – it had to be a sign. And so, he entertained you, the perfect gentleman. He played his role as he always did, charming, polite, hiding his true intentions behind his ever-present grin. He would lead you into his bayou soon enough. Flesh and blood would be his reward.

But somehow...the plan never quite happened. The weeks stretched on, one excuse after another.

Next week, he told himself.

Then...

Next month.

And the next.

And now? Now, you were in his home – in his bed. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows that danced across the room. Your wedding ring winked at him from the dim light as your fingers reached out to him, your smile – damn that smile – still as enchanting as the first time you’d greeted him in the park. His pulse quickened, a thrum of something dark and dangerous lurking beneath his skin.

Desire.

Forbidden and all-consuming. It clung to both of you like second skin, wrapping around his and your hearts and pulled them deeper into its murky depths. The line between predator and prey blurred.

Sinful.

Wicked.

Irresistible.

You.

Your soul was stained the same as his at that moment, soaked in the same shade of black, though Alastor’s - oh, his – was far darker. After all, how could yours compare to a man who had murder etched into his very bones?

His bare skin pressed against yours, both of you entangled in the warmth of each other, every inch of him revelling in the feel of your soft, smooth curves. He inhaled sharply, his breaths unsteady, savouring the heat where your bodies met. His fingers traced along your hips, your thighs, as if memorizing each delicate slope. He could get lost in the feel of you, spend hours worshipping the perfection beneath his touch.

His lips found yours, a slow, burning kiss that lingered before he dragged his mouth down the tender column of your neck, across your collarbone. Each kiss light, each kiss reverent. He explored the valley between your breasts with deliberate, maddening slowness. Each kiss sent shivers through you as he travelled lower, his breath brushing your skin.

When he reached your hips, he paused, eyes wild with hunger, before hooking your legs over his shoulders. His breath ghosted over your sensitive folds, teasing, tempting.

How did he get here?

His fingers tightened around your hips, holding you firmly as he leaned in, his lips pressing a feather-light kiss against the swollen tip of your clit. This wasn’t what he had imagined when he’d thought of indulging in your flesh, not like this. But now, he couldn’t stop.

He was needy.

Ravenous.

Consumed by a hunger that went far beyond flesh.

“Al...” you breathed, your voice soft and sweet, like the wind whispering through the trees of his bayou. The sound of your voice sent a jolt through him, tugging at something deep inside, something primal. He wanted to drown in that sound, let it wrap around him like the humid air of home.

His mouth pressed against your slick folds, his tongue sweeping between them with aching slowness. The hitch in your breath, the soft moans that escaped you – they drove him mad.

More.

He wanted more.

He needed it.

Every reaction, every sound, it wasn’t enough. He craved everything you had to offer.

But his eyes caught the flash of gold – the wedding band still clinging to your finger like a sick reminder. The sight of it made his chest tighten with rage, his hands twitching with the urge to rip it off and toss it into the swamp. But instead, he closed his eyes, shutting out the thought, focusing on you. He focused on the heat of your body, the taste of you, as his tongue lapped at you, deeper, stroking every part of your trembling core.

A low moan escaped him as his tongue dipped further, swirling around the most sensitive part of you, eliciting another desperate, breathless sound from your lips. His cock was aching, painfully hard, but all he wanted, all that mattered, was your pleasure. Your moans, your writhing body beneath him, the way your fingers curled into the sheets.

Your everything.

More.

It was the only word echoing in his mind as his mouth worked tirelessly, his tongue gliding, tasting, drinking in every drop of your desire.

More. More. More.

Perhaps it was because he knew – deep down – that no matter how much he craved you, you could never truly be his. You would return to your world, leave his bed empty, cold, and desolate once again. And each time, that dark, consuming desire to trap you here, to make you his forever, only grew stronger. Feverish.

More.

“Alastor,” your voice came out as a soft, pleading whimper, cutting through the maelstrom of dark thoughts swirling in his mind. That sound, delicate and needy, was never enough to make him stop wanting more of you. His lips parted from your core, a thin, glistening strand of saliva and your slick connecting the two of you before it broke, hanging in the air like the tension between the both of you.

“I want to please you too,” you murmured, your voice tender, your eyes warm and filled with a quiet devotion. You smiled softly, your hair – usually neat and perfect – now loose and wild, framing your flushed face with strands that had escaped in the heat of the moment. You shifted, the bed creaking beneath you as you leaned forward, pressing your body against him, your warmth melting into his bare chest.

Alastor’s breath hitched, feeling the press of your soft curves against him. Slowly, deliberately, he guided you down with him until you lay on top of him, bodies entwined in shared heat. His cock throbbed insistently against your belly, but he ignored it for a moment, letting his fingers weave through your messy hair. He gently stroked the strands, savouring the intimacy of the moment, before planting a tender kiss on your forehead. The sound of your giggle – light and sweet – filled the room, sending a rush of satisfaction through him.

More.

The thought lingered, twisting like a knife in his chest. He could kill your husband, make him disappear. The idea came easily, a whisper of violence mixed with longing, the dark fantasy taking root in his mind. He chuckled then. Perhaps, it had already taken root and has now blossomed into a beautiful thought of a world where he was drenched in your husband’s blood.

You shifted, lifting yourself just enough to brush your fingers over one of the many scars that marked his skin. Your eyes sparkled with curiosity and mischief as you traced the rough line with delicate fingers.

“How did you get this?” you asked, your voice soft and gentle before pressing a kiss to the scar, your lips warm against his skin as you followed the path leading dangerously close to his aching cock.

Alastor chuckled darkly, his grin sharp as he watched you, mesmerized by your touch. “Got into a little scuffle when I was younger,” he replied, his voice low, filled with amusement. Your lips formed a pout, then softened into a kind smile as you kissed the scar again.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore?” you asked, running your fingers back and forth across the jagged edge.

“No,” he whispered, guiding your head with a teasing hand, urging you toward his throbbing length. “Haven’t thought about it in years.” In truth, the only thing burning in his mind was the revenge he had taken, the satisfaction of ending the lives of those who had hurt him once his mother was no longer there to hold him back.

You hummed softly, and then your warm, soft lips kissed the head of his cock. His breath hitched as your fingers wrapped around him, stroking gently while your tongue flicked out, teasing, tasting him. The sensation was electric, making him shudder as you dragged your wet tongue along the head of his cock, your touch slow and deliberate, designed to drive him mad.

Could he kill your husband? Would that mean you would finally be his, completely? The thought grew within him, louder and louder, until it was all he could think about – obsess about. His eyes flicked to the golden band still shackled around your finger, a symbol of everything that stood between him and what he truly wanted.

You closed your eyes, your lashes brushing your cheeks as you took him deeper, your lips forming a tight, wet seal as you began to suck, your mouth hot and exquisite around him. A sharp breath escaped his lips, his hand trembling as he stroked your hair, his other hand gripping the sheets beneath him.

“Cher...” he groaned, the word a strained whisper as he fought to contain the chaotic storm of emotions swirling within him. His feelings for you were growing, spiralling out of control with each passing moment. He was falling into something dark and dangerous, something that felt too close to obsession – hah! – no, it was already an obsession.

The wet heat of your mouth, the way you moaned around him, it was driving him wild. He wanted you in every possible way – mind, body, soul. Every inch of you, every whisper, every smile. More. Always more.

But even then, he knew it would never be enough.

His eyes roamed over the scars that marred his body, a patchwork of memories etched into his skin. Each one told a story, some of the prey fighting back, others from the cruelty inflicted on him for being born into a world that saw him as lesser. They were his reminders – marks of his survival, of the battles won, and the punishments endured.

But now, his gaze drifted to you. Your fingers, soft and pristine, wrapped around his cock, your clean cuticles and neatly trimmed nails standing in stark contrast to his scarred body. A thought flickered in his mind – wouldn't it be beautiful if he had something that reminded him of you, something permanent, something he could see on days when you weren’t with him?

“Cher,” he called out softly, his voice a desperate whisper. “Cher,” he repeated, his tone filled with need, and his breath jumped sharply as your mouth took him deeper, the feel of your throat tightening around him sending a shock of pleasure up his spine.

You looked up at him, his cock buried deep in your mouth, glistening under the dim flicker of candlelight, and he felt the image burn into his mind. The sight of you like this – lips swollen; eyes glazed with lust – it was a sight he never wanted to forget.

But then, with a slow and gentle motion, he pulled himself from your mouth, watching as your lips parted, slick and bruised from your ministrations. He leaned over, his hand searching the drawer of his bedside table until he found it – a small wooden handle sheathed in leather. Unsheathing the blade, he held it out to you.

Your brow furrowed, confused, your head tilting slightly as questions danced in your eyes, though none found their way to your lips.

“Evidence,” Alastor murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, placing the knife in your hand with reverence. “Proof,” he continued, inching closer, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that felt both tender and tainted with the thrill of something darker. “Anywhere, love,” he whispered, his voice lilting with an almost jovial tone that belied the devilish intent behind his words. “Anywhere you want, to show me how much you love me.”

Your lips trembled; your hand unsteady as you seemed to process the weight of his request. “It’ll hurt,” you murmured, your voice barely audible as you traced the dull side of the blade along his inner thigh, testing the sharpness of the blade.

But then, Alastor saw it – the flicker of something dark behind your eyes, the same gleam that had sparked the first time you’d broken your marital vows for him. You were his – his little devil, his wicked temptation, his.

A slow, wicked grin spread across your lips as you pushed him back onto the bed. “Anywhere?” you cooed, your voice a sultry tease as you bowed your head, your tongue flicking out to lick the base of his cock. The contrast of your warm tongue and the cool blade was intoxicating.

His heart pounded, each throb sending a pulse of arousal through him, as you pressed the flat edge of the blade against the head of his cock, teasing him with the threat of pain. His cock twitched in response, a bead of pre-cum forming at the tip, and you seemed to sense his desire. You continued your slow, torturous licks, kitten-soft, while pressing the sharp edge of the blade against his inner thigh.

Alastor hissed as the first slice cut into his skin, sharp pain blooming in his flesh, but it was drowned out by the pleasure of your mouth on him. Your lips enveloped his balls, sucking gently, your tongue tracing delicate patterns that made him groan. The mix of pain and pleasure twisted inside him, creating a heady blend that left him breathless.

Each stroke of the blade was purposeful, each cut sending a rush of heat through him. His hips rolled instinctively, thrusting into your mouth, seeking more of the pleasure you so expertly provided, even as the blade pierced and dragged across his skin. Blood trickled from the fresh wounds, warm and wet, but your tongue, your lips – they were his salvation amidst the pain.

Twelve strokes. Twelve precise cuts. With each slice, the pleasure intensified, his groans turning into a melody of pleasure and pain. His body trembled beneath you, surrendering to the exquisite torment you dealt him, his desire swelling.

More. Always more. And even then, it still wouldn’t be enough.

The moment the bloody blade fell from your hand onto the bed, your fingers slick with his blood, you gripped his throbbing shaft, working it with slow, teasing strokes. Your lips were wrapped around him, tasting his arousal, his blood, as you bobbed your head up and down, your mouth a wet, heated heaven that he lost himself in.

The pain from the cuts on his inner thigh faded into a distant, forgotten ache, drowned out by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his body. His head fell back, lips parting as his breath came in ragged gasps, hips pushing forward involuntarily to chase the sensation of your soft, warm mouth. The slick, wet sound of your spit, the sticky remnants of blood on his thighs, the obscene wetness trailing down his cock – it all blurred together in a haze of ecstasy.

With every thrust, every gurgle and moan, Alastor’s grip on control slipped further. His eyes squeezed shut, lost in the raw, primal swirl of base desires. And the thought – the beautiful, intoxicating thought – that now he had a scar from you, a mark that would outlast everything, including the tarnished band on your finger, that thought was his undoing.

A deep, guttural groan ripped from his throat as he came hard, releasing in thick, hot spurts into your waiting mouth. You, always so good for him, took him in, swallowing every last drop, your lips and tongue devouring him with a devotion that made him weak. You were perfect for him, always.

But he needed more – always more of you. He could never have enough.

And tonight, he made a silent vow. He would kill your husband. No more waiting. No more pretending.

As you pulled away from him, your lips slow to part from his cock, you licked them clean, flashing him a cheeky grin. “I think we should clean you up,” you teased, your voice soft, breathless, as you glanced at the mess of blood and cum staining the sheets, his thigh soaked in crimson.

Alastor’s gaze drifted lazily down to the fresh wound on his inner thigh, a scar that would be his forever. He had to fight the urge to pull you under him and take you right then and there, to lose himself in you until morning came. His breath was shallow, his chest heaving, and a high-pitched laugh escaped him, tremors of delight rolling through his body.

“Oh, cher,” he murmured, fingers tracing the new cut, still warm and raw. His tone was laced with affection, but beneath it, there was the dark swirl of possessiveness. His bloodied fingers caught your face, smearing crimson across your skin as he pushed you down onto the bed. The mattress groaned beneath your combined weight, sinking into the heat of the moment. “Cher, cher, cher,” he repeated, his voice dripping with laughter and madness, each repetition steeped in dark affection.

His hands, now slick with his own blood, gripped your face with a possessiveness that bordered on feral, marking you with his blood as his lips descended on your skin. His mouth traced you hungrily, tasting, claiming every inch of you. Blood and lust mingled, and his touch, his kisses – they were everywhere, devouring, overwhelming.

MINE.

That was what your scar said to him. It screamed it – MINE.

And at that moment, Alastor knew – this was your permission, your sign. He would kill your husband. He would make sure you were his.

Forever.

Mine.

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

FUN FACT: Several months ago, I made a poll about what story I should write next. Human!Alastor and ABO was super close, but ABO won in the end. This one shot was actually a snippet of my story. Read this post here, if anyone is interested!

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aventurineswife · 4 months ago

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Stages of Shadows: Chapter 4 - Unexpected Friendship

The air buzzed with excitement as the audience erupted in applause, their cheers echoing off the high ceilings of the grand theater. Aventurine, with his flamboyant style and magnetic presence, commanded the stage, seamlessly weaving together an intricate tapestry of dance and music. His performance was a testament to his talent, captivating those lucky enough to witness it.

In stark contrast to the exhilaration surrounding him, [Name] sat slumped against the wall in the waiting room, staring blankly at the floor. Shadows danced across their features as flickering lights from the stage illuminated their downturned face. The cheers and music felt distant, muffled by the weight of grief and anxiety pressing down on their chest. Robin’s death loomed heavy in their mind, a constant reminder of the fragility of life in this brutal competition.

Across the room, Ratio leaned against the doorframe, his muscular build casting a long shadow. He observed the other contestants milling about, but his focus remained fixed on [Name]. While most were lost in conversations or preparing for their own performances, [Name] was isolated in their sorrow, an island amidst a sea of vibrant life.

Ratio knew that it was time to act. He pushed himself off the frame and walked over to [Name], his presence commanding but measured. “You seem lost in thought,” he remarked, his voice steady and confident. “As though the world is pressing down on your shoulders. Would you care to share what’s on your mind?”

[Name] looked up, surprise flickering across their features. They hadn’t expected anyone to approach them, let alone someone as imposing as Ratio. “I—” they started but faltered, words caught in their throat. Instead, they lowered their gaze again, unable to meet his intense eyes.

“Do you think avoiding conversation will ease your burden?” Ratio pressed gently, crossing his arms. “You’re not the only one who carries a heavy heart in this place.”

At his words, [Name] finally met his gaze, feeling a flicker of curiosity. “What do you know about burdens?” they replied, a hint of defiance in their voice. “You seem too busy with your own ambitions to care about anyone else.”

Ratio’s expression softened slightly. “On the contrary. My ambitions stem from a desire to eradicate ignorance and share knowledge with others. But that doesn’t mean I’m oblivious to the pain around me. I’ve witnessed the struggle in many faces, including yours.”

[Name] inhaled sharply, feeling a twinge of something—recognition, perhaps. “I don’t know how to handle this,” they admitted, their voice barely above a whisper. “Robin—she was my friend. But… now she’s gone. I don’t know how to keep going.”

The vulnerability In [Name]’s voice struck a chord in Ratio. “Grief can be consuming,” he acknowledged, his tone shifting to something more empathetic. “But you must find a way to navigate through it. Knowledge is a powerful tool; it can guide you when all feels lost.”

“Easy for you to say,” [Name] shot back, frustration bubbling beneath their words. “You’re a genius. You have all the answers. What do you know about loss?”

Ratio’s expression hardened for a brief moment before he regained his composure. “I may not know your specific pain, but I’ve faced my own losses. The world is filled with cruelty and hardship, yet I refuse to succumb to despair. I channel my grief into purpose.”

Intrigued by his earnestness, [Name] felt the walls they had built around themselves begin to crack. “And what’s your purpose in this competition? To show off your intellect? To prove something to those who doubt you?”

“Partly,” Ratio admitted, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. “But more importantly, I want to inspire others. I believe knowledge should be accessible to all, not just a select few. This competition offers a unique platform to reach people who might otherwise remain in the dark.”

Aventurine’s performance reached its climax, and the audience erupted into rapturous applause, bringing the waiting room back into focus. Ratio’s gaze shifted towards the screen momentarily, then returned to [Name]. “You see, we all have our own battles to fight. Yours may seem insurmountable right now, but perhaps you can find a way to transform that pain into something powerful.”

“Powerful?” [Name] echoed, skepticism lacing their tone. “How? How can I turn this agony into strength?”

Ratio’s expression softened further, revealing a glimpse of the man behind the intellect. “By sharing your story, by connecting with others who understand your struggle. It may not happen overnight, but every step counts. You don’t have to walk this path alone.”

For the first time, [Name] considered his words. They had been so consumed by their grief that they hadn’t thought about how sharing their pain could foster connection. “You really believe that?” they asked, searching Ratio’s eyes for sincerity.

“I do,” Ratio replied firmly. “And I’d be honored to help you find that strength. We can challenge this competition and the expectations that come with it. Knowledge and compassion can pave the way for a brighter future—even in a place like this.”

As Aventurine won his performance, the sound of applause washed over them once more, but this time, [Name] felt a spark of hope flicker within. Perhaps, just perhaps, they could forge a connection amidst the chaos.

This unexpected twist meant they would have to work together, possibly forcing them to confront their own struggles side by side.

“Looks like our paths are intertwined,” Ratio said with a hint of amusement, though the underlying tension was palpable. “Are you ready for what lies ahead?”

Taking a deep breath, [Name] nodded, feeling a mix of apprehension and newfound determination. “Let’s see what we can do together.” they replied, a flicker of resolve igniting in their chest.

However, as they prepared to face the trials ahead, an unsettling thought nagged at the back of [Name]’s mind—a sense of foreboding that something darker was lurking just beyond the horizon of their newfound partnership.

“Just remember,” Ratio said, his gaze steady, “in this competition, we’re not only battling for ourselves but for those we’ve lost. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

[Name] felt a chill run down their spine, a premonition that echoed ominously within. The weight of his words lingered in the air, a fragile promise underscored by the reality of their perilous surroundings. In this arena of ambition and peril, they both knew that not everyone would make it through unscathed, and somewhere in the depths of their hearts, a fear grew that one of them might soon pay the ultimate price.

As the applause thundered through the walls, Sunday found refuge in the solitude of a dimly lit bathroom. The sounds of excitement and celebration in the waiting room felt like distant echoes, mocking the void inside him. He gripped the cold porcelain sink, knuckles whitening as he leaned over, desperately trying to steady himself. His eyes, usually clear and resolute, were clouded with grief and a pain he couldn’t seem to shake.

The loss of Robin hung over him like a storm he couldn’t escape, a ceaseless torrent of guilt and sorrow. Memories of his sister—her laughter, her strength, her unwavering kindness—flooded his mind, each one a dagger that twisted deeper into his heart. He remembered the last conversation they’d had, the words they’d left unsaid. If he had been there for her…

A tremor ran through him, and he swallowed hard, his throat tight with suppressed emotion. Sunday wasn’t one to reveal his vulnerabilities, especially not now, when so many were depending on him to remain strong, rational, and composed. But in this moment, all pretense fell away. He was just a brother grieving his sister, grappling with a loss he couldn’t protect her from.

“Robin…” he murmured, his voice barely audible, thick with pain. The name felt like broken glass on his lips, sharp and cutting. His grip on the sink tightened further, and his reflection in the mirror blurred, obscured by the tears he refused to shed. How had he failed her so utterly? How had he let her slip away in this brutal competition, this world that valued survival over compassion, cruelty over kindness.

He took a shaky breath, forcing himself to keep standing. There were others still here, others he was responsible for, others who could still be saved. But the thought felt hollow. What was the point if he couldn’t save the one person who’d mattered most to him?

Sunday’s shoulders slumped, and he closed his eyes, trying to regain a semblance of composure. But the weight of his loss was overwhelming, pressing down on him with unrelenting force. For the first time in his life, he felt truly powerless.

He heard faint footsteps outside, voice muffled but growing closer. He clenched his jaw, willing himself to bury his grief, to hide it as he always did. The world wouldn’t care about his pain. It had never cared. And he wasn’t sure he had the strength to care anymore, either.

[Navigation]

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xsolaresx · 2 months ago

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paul lahote.: violent delights have violent ends

pairings: paul lahote x fem! reader

summary: What if Jacob couldn't save Bella from drowning in New Moon? What if, with the death of Edward's blood singer, another one appeared and he wasn't so kind?

warnings: angst! sad! graphic description of blood!

word count.: 2,1k

author @xsolaresx

notes: English is not my first language, so there may be some grammatical errors.

ps.: if you want to translate any of my work, please send me a message and we’ll talk about it.

I was dreaming. I knew this because I was surrounded by salt water, but my clothes were still dry. I'm sinking into the deep sea, but I'm still breathing, so I'm staying calm. Soon I'll wake up in Paul's arms and it will all be just a strange dream.

However, the dark, calm waters off the coast of La Push suddenly turn into turmoil when something falls off the cliff into the sea, a few meters in front of me. Several bubbles appear, blocking my vision and I can't see anything, but as my surroundings come back into view I can see that something has fallen and is slowly sinking.

My vision becomes a little blurry and unfocused because of the darkness, but when I manage to focus on the object I realize it's a person. It's Bella, my friend since childhood. She's awake, she doesn't seem unconscious, but for some reason she's not moving, she's not trying to float or swim back to the surface. She's letting the darkness consume her, taking her deeper and deeper into the ocean. I start to swim towards her frantically, my arms and legs aching from the effort that the icy water causes, rendering my movements useless.

Bella looks at me and smiles, nodding her head in the negative.

She doesn't want to be rescued.

The freezing cold of the water begins to take its toll, her skin becomes paler than it usually is and her cheeks and nose turn an unnatural shade of purple.

Bella had always loved the cold, even if she tried to deny it, even if it hurt her.

She sinks deeper and deeper into the darkness, until she closes her eyes and smiles. Her body disappears from view and a desperate cry rises from my throat as I try to reach her, but it's too late. Bubbles come out of my mouth, blocking my view of the darkness of the sea.

This is a nightmare. I realize it when I wake up screaming and crying in Paul's empty bed. Lahote bursts through the door, his body trembling, ready to transform into the giant wolf and protect me from any threat. But his features soften when he realizes that it's just the two of us in the room, and that my face is covered in tears.

“Tell me what happened, baby.” He kneels in front of me, taking my face in his hands. Paul tries to dry some of my tears in vain, as I can't stop crying in despair.

“B-Bella's going to kill herself, I saw it Paul.” my voice comes out slurred, my despair increasing when I realize that this is the truth, my friend has given up. She doesn't want to live without Edward anymore.

“Calm down, baby. It was just a bad dream, everything will be fine.”

“You don't understand, I saw it. You have to help her, Paul. It's going to be on the cliff, I saw it.”

“Y/N, breathe, please...” a knock on the door interrupts us. Paul tries to get up to see who it is, but I run in front of him and open the door.

A drenched Embry in shorts is standing on the other side in the rain. He's a little startled when he sees me and shifts his gaze in respect when he realizes that I'm just wearing Paul's big sweater and nothing else

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you, but it's a serious matter,” he says a little awkwardly, his face showing concern.

“What happened?” Lahote appears from behind me, his voice even more serious as he holds my waist tightly.

“It's Jacob... we were chasing the red-headed bloodsucker when he smelt something different and went in the opposite direction, letting the vampire escape... It's just that he... he found Bella on the shore. She'd jumped off the cliff... I'm sorry Y/N, I know you were close, but... She's gone Y/N.”

It's as if a hole has opened up in my chest. After all those months I spent by Bella's side, helping her eat, sleep, keeping her company even when she didn't want to, all the efforts I made to make her understand that it was enough that she didn't need Edward, she couldn't take it. Bella would rather die than be away from that vampire.

Paul holds me tightly when he senses my sadness at the imprinting bond.

I've always hated the cold, ice cream or snow, but I learned that once I became Paul's imprint it meant that I could snuggle into his feverish body and he would never let me go. Compared to me, Bella always loved winter, even if she tried to say otherwise, she liked to feel her fingers freezing in contact with the snow while we played outside. She always went with the ice, sinking into snow crystals and snuggling up to her dead boyfriend. At the end of the day, Bella couldn't save herself from the deadly attraction that Edward exuded.

He was the lion and she was the deer.

“Someone needs to go and see Chief Swan, Jacob refuses to leave the hospital and Billy doesn't know yet, but he'll want to go to Charlie when he does.”

“Let's get Billy and go straight to the Chief's house, they're friends, he'll know how to comfort him,” Paul says when he realizes I don't have the strength to answer. Embry just nods and rushes off into the forest. “Come on, my love. You need a bath and something to eat.” Lahote pulls me into his arms as he closes the door.

I cling to him as if he were my lifeline. My only chance of not drowning again.

I put on some clothes while Paul tried to get me to eat a sandwich before we left, but I couldn't, I wanted to throw up everything and cry. The craving increased as I realized that it was all Cullen's fault, if he had walked away when he met her, if he had stopped playing with his prey, trying to live something he couldn't, Bella wouldn't have gotten so close to him and felt so helpless without his presence.

She would have lived.

All the way Billy kept quiet, he was one of the first to warn Bella of the danger, but even he couldn't persuade her.

“Come on, sweetheart, we're here.” Paul touches my hand with a consoling caress. I hadn't even realized we'd arrived at Charlie's house.

“I can't.” The tears that had dried come back blurring my vision, Paul tries to hug me as best he can in the passenger seat.

“We'd better go ahead, give her some time to process.” Billy, who was in the back of Paul's truck witnessing everything, speaks up to comfort me. Lahote nods, climbs down and gets the older Black out of the car.

I watch through the living room window as the two of them get in and tell Charlie, who falls to the ground in tears.

I rush out of the car aimlessly, the suffocating pain in my chest blinding me and taking all the air out of me. The next thing I know, I'm in the forest behind Chief Swan's house, a long way from the trail. I'm lost. I fall on the wet ground and stay there long enough for it to get dark. I know that Paul will soon find me, so I remain motionless, my strength gone.

A strong wind blows past me, lifting my hair and I shiver with cold. In the distance, I hear branches breaking, until they stop, only for the noise to come back and get closer and closer to me. I don't have time to react, when I try to get up I'm surprised by a figure standing in front of me in the distance. It's Edward.

“What do you want?” the vampire's figure makes anger rise in my throat. “Isn't it enough that you killed my friend?”

“It was never my intention...” another wind blows towards me, blowing my hair into my face.

As I pull the strands out of my eyes, I realize that Cullen is pulling in air sharply, his eyes turning into massive dark stones. I stand up when I realize that his fierce gaze is directed at me. The sad, desolate look he had been wearing for a long time was gone, the only emotion I could see in him was remorse, and... thirst.

“I came after Bella... I wanted to see for myself... make sure she's gone.” Edward says cautiously, letting out heavy breaths with each sentence.

“She's dead, because of you. If you'd stayed away from her, if you'd stayed away from the beginning... she'd be here.” I say angrily as more tears come out of me.

“I couldn't, I was weak, her smell... it was like a drug to me, I couldn't stay away from Bella. I loved her.” His face contorts in pain, as if it's hard to admit that now that she's gone.

“Then why didn't you turn her? If you loved her, why didn't you make her one of you!” I shout fiercely. “That's what she wanted, to be immortal with you,” I whispered in pain.

“I couldn't, I couldn't condemn her to that life.”

“Didn't you realize that you condemned her long before that? You brought danger to her, you made her become a danger to herself. She preferred killing herself to being without you!”

“I tried to control myself, she was my blood singer, I always knew it, but I fell in love with her instead of accepting my fate and sucking her blood, but... your blood, it... it smells just as good as hers...” In the blink of an eye Edward is in front of me, his hand outstretched towards my face, but not touching me. More tears roll down my cheeks, but now it's out of fear, finally realizing that I've been in front of a predator all along. A blood-sucking vampire.

“You wouldn't do that... I'm Paul's imprint, it would kill him,” I say fearfully as he sinks his nose into my neck.

“Bella was the only one who held me to this world, the only one who made me better than a bloodsucker, but now that she's gone, there's no sense in it anymore.” I try to move away from his icy body, but it's in vain. He's much stronger than me.

“Jacob will come after you, he'll want revenge for Bella, and if you kill me then all the wolves will come after you... you'll die” I try to persuade him to run away while there's still time, but this seems to ignite the flames in his black eyes. Edward lifts his face from my neck and looks deeply into my eyes. In the darkness, I realized... I was never going to get out alive.

“That's exactly what I want.” Edward advanced towards my neck, his teeth, so white and polished, now looked like shiny, bloody daggers. A strangled cry comes out of me as I feel a sharp pain in my neck.

I think that soon he will throw me aside and run away, but no, I watch as his eyes darken even more into a crimson shade. I pray to the ancestors that it will be over soon, that I can see Paul's chocolate eyes one last time and hug him.

My body is losing its strength and I'm slowly falling to the ground with him on top of me, my eyes are getting heavy and my vision is blurring. The last thing I see is a reddish wolf jumping on Edward and pulling him off me, but I don't have the strength to call for help. Blood pours down my throat and I realize that the bastard has torn a hole in me. I can't speak.

I turn my face and realize that more wolves have fallen on the vampire, tearing him limb from limb. Edward takes one last look at me and smiles, surrendering to death, then a gray wolf rips his head off.

Paul shapeshifts and falls to his knees next to me, his trembling hands trying to stop the bleeding, but it's too late.

“I - I - I'm cold.” I try to say to him, but only whispers come out of me, it's too hard to speak.

“I know, baby, I know, I'll warm you up, okay? I know how much you hate the cold.” Thick tears fall from Lahote's eyes, and with one last effort I try to dry them.

“I lo-love you,” I say and blood starts to come out of my mouth.

“I love you, Y/N. I'll always be here for you, it's all right now. You can rest my darling, I'll take care of you.” Paul says in tears, all the time looking into my eyes. Then I realize that this is the moment.

My arms fall by my sides, I can no longer feel my legs and in one last gasp I look at Paul.

My breath stumbles and then there is nothing more. There is no life.

Violent delights have violent ends.

#fanfic #edward cullen #jacob black #twilight #the twilight saga #paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #new moon #wolves #vampires #family cullen #la push #wolf pack

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noellerain · 2 years ago

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Antithetical ♡ [suguru x afab!reader]

noe: this man is living rent-free in my mind for days now so you can consider this fic a brainrot/love letter to this gorgeous son of a bitch.

Warnings: [ DEAD DOVE! ] dark smut, noncon/rape (reader to Suguru), somnophilia (reader to Suguru), femdom, babytrapping (reader to Suguru), profanities (vulgar words), intoxication, spitting, implied that Suguru is drugged but not by the reader, obsessive behavior (reader to Suguru), proofread once, Gojo has a cameo lol, just over all madness. [LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED SOMETHING! THANK YOU!]

+ BLOCK, DON'T REPORT!

[If you read the warnings then proceed to click/press the cut button, you consent on reading the dark material below.]

Suguru Geto is midnight personified. His jet-black hair reminds you of the night sky when it's void of the moon and the stars. His eyes are blackholes that can consume your entirety if you look hard and long enough. His scent smells like the Earth after rain: a unique, addicting scent that makes your stomach flip yet still brings you a sense of warm melancholia.

Suguru Geto is way out of your league. You know that. But while everyone is fawning over his annoying best friend, Satoru, your love-struck eyes are fixated on that enigma of a man. Just one look, whether it's intentional or in passing, can shake and blow you away like the flimsy petals of dandelions.

Tonight, as you stand in the dark corner of Satoru's living room while everyone else drinks and dances to the rhythm of the song booming from the speakers, the walls seem to close in on you.

There he is, sitting on the couch with his arm around a girl. His hair is up in its usual bun; tresses hanging on the side of his face. He's wearing a simple white shirt and black cargo pants. The simplicity amplifies his good looks.

They say that he and Satoru are two different sides of the same coin. Satoru's boisterous personality is on the face; one look at him and your alarm immediately goes off. Meanwhile, Suguru's serenity is the reason why he catches people off-guard when his true colors show.

He is a fucking mastermind. He plays the good guy role; carefully making the bed and patiently inviting his victim to lay down on it. Perhaps that's their difference: Satoru's always in a rush, his thirst never quenches. Suguru, on the other hand, takes his time. You conclude that it makes the game more enjoyable to him. That sweet, sweet reward of fucking someone dumb after all the efforts you exert may be Suguru's personal brand of drugs.

He leans closer to the girl, whispering something in her ear. She laughs and the bubbling jealousy in your chest tastes more bitter than the liquor you're currently drinking in a red cup.

It's a vicious cycle of his. For two years now, you've been nothing but a bystander. Always in the corners, watching. You've seen him lay out an elaborate plan, working his way down to different women's panties. When he finally gets what he wants, he puts his pants up and throws them away like ragdolls. Then he puts his façade— back to square one again and again and again.

Your face contorts into a frown when he smoothly puts his hand on the girl's knee. From your perspective, it looks unintentional; like his hand just happens to be there. She smirks at him, obviously enjoying the situation she's in. Your eyes narrow on his long, slender fingers, now gently rubbing her skin. It's fucking funny how life slaps you in the face over and over; there he is, the object of your obsession, sitting next to someone else, to anyone else, to everyone else but you.

His fingers slide up her thigh and give them a squeeze; the hem of her miniskirt bunches up on her lap. Your mind is beginning to go into overdrive. It's so unfair. So fucking unfair. What do others have that you don't? You take a big gulp on your drink.

"Oh? What a pleasant surprise!" Satoru's loud voice snaps your mind to sanity; your soul back to the dark corner where you're standing.

You look up at him as he strides lazily over to you, a red cup in his hand as well. He's wearing a tight black shirt and jeans that hang loosely around his waist. "I don't usually see you at my parties. What's a pretty girl doin' here in the dark?"

He leans against the wall and takes a big gulp on his drink. You don't humor his attempt for a chat. You can still feel your simmering envy as you look down on the brownish liquid in your cup.

"Not gonna entertain me, huh?" He laughs; an annoying sound that grinds your ears. "I understand, though. After all, I have a better vision than my best friend over there."

You whip your head to him, confusion all over your face. Heart beating loudly in your chest at the mention of Suguru, his one and only friend. Your lips are pursed and your brows are deeply furrowed. "What do you mean?"

He drinks again, his electric blue eyes glimmering with malice. When he puts down his cup on his side, he gives you an impish smirk. "Heh. Watch."

He pushes himself off of the wall and begins to walk away. But before he's beyond your earshot, he yells: "Second floor, last room on the West wing!"

You roll your eyes. As usual, Satoru is a menace. A baffling menace. You do not get a single word he says and you have no plans on trying. After all, guys like him are meant to be heard, not to be listened to.

Your eyes go back to Suguru. He's still on the couch but fortunately, his hands are now off the girls' body. Instead, he's pressing his forehead with his thumb while his eyes are shut tight as the girl next to him continues to babble away. The sight strikes some chords in your heart. You notice the creased skin between his forehead. It only goes away temporarily when Satoru appears and hands him a red cup.

You gnaw on your bottom lip as he taps on his forehead again with the pad of his thumb. You glare at the girl whose red lips continue to move. What is she even saying to him?

Your mind begins to wander. If it's you who's next to him right now, you're fairly certain that you won't be talking at all. You'll stare at him and listen to everything he says; hang on to every word. But Suguru is not selfish like Satoru. You know that it will be a conversation between the two of you; not just him yapping away like Satoru does.

Your heart skips a beat just by imagining how he'll look at you while you talk. He will nod, smile... Laugh. Gives you pennies for your thoughts. You pray to a higher power for the chance though you're certain that you won't be able to mutter anything coherent.

A few minutes pass by and the girl leaves. Suguru also leaves and a part of you dies inside again and again every time you see him with another girl. Where are they going? Is he going to sleep with her? Kiss her, touch her, claim her in places your mind does not dare to imagine? You finish your drink in one gulp before storming to the kitchen to grab more.

Your childishness tells you that your anger and envy are valid. After all, you've been pining over Suguru for two years now. Every time you try to move on, there is a pang of guilt in your heart. You never had him but he lives in the trenches of your heart, his name emblazoned in your mind.

But the rational part that's left of your intoxicated brain tells you that it's wrong. That you have no right to feel this way. Suguru doesn't even know you. How can you let him put a chain in your limbs and control you this way?

You wipe the liquor that dribbles down your chin. You look up and see through your hazy eyes that there are less people in the living room now. What time is it? You look down on the bottle of alcohol that you're cradling in your arms. Hiccuping, you realize that you drank half of its contents.

You stand up and the world around you begins to spin rapidly. Your knees feel like boiled noodles, unable to keep themselves upright. But still, you persevered. You leave the living room, determined to see Suguru. You decide that the madness has to stop once and for all. You can't live your life—

"Second floor, last room on the West wing!"

"Fuck you." you mutter beneath your breath as you hit your head with your fist repeatedly. For some reason, Satoru's voice decides to pop up out of nowhere.

You hiccup and begin your search to find Suguru. You look for him outside, trying to spot him in smaller crowds. At the pool area, staring at the people fucking on the water, the bathrooms… he's nowhere to be found.

You crawl your way upstairs, opening the rooms but either they're locked, empty or some people are fucking like rabbits inside.

You squint your eyes as you peek through the crevice of another door you opened. Another couple is fuck— wait. The jeans pooling on his ankles, the tight black shirt and the messy mop of white hair...

"Satoru," you drawl, inserting your head through the space between the door and the doorframe.

He whips his head, bullets of sweat dripping down his face as he smirks. "Hey. Anything I can do for ya?"

His breath is labored as he speaks; his hips continuously drilling against the girl's cunt. You can't see her from the angle but knowing Satoru, he's into beautiful girls. Beautiful, whiny girls. Her moans sound pretty, too.

"Where's Suguru?" You ask, blinking slowly.

"Told ya," he laughs. "Second floor, last room on the west wing."

"K," you sigh. You close the door and pray for the poor girl. You've never seen Satoru in action before but gods, are the rumors right. He is merciless and bursting with vigour.

You drag yourself to the last room on the West wing. Frankly, you don't even know what you're going to say to him. Does he even know you? Is he going to even hear you out?

Dread fills you to the brim when you stop in front of the door. What if he's not even here and Satoru is just messing with you? Worse, what if you see him fucking someone else inside? Gods.

You slap your cheeks to try and get a hold of what's left of yourself. It's a good thing that you're still somewhat sober despite drinking half of that bottle. You thought the liquor will make you forget but here you are, about to make the most stupid choice you've possibly ever done in your life.

Staring hard at the door, you take a sharp breath in. Your shaking fingers close around the cold knob before slowly turning it. The door finally opens and you feel your heart throb in your chest.

You peek inside then gasp in surprise.

"Su... Guru?" You whisper, pupils blown wide from the sight sprawled in front of you.

He's laying down on the mattress with his luscious long black hair spilling on the pillows. His eyes are closed and his chest is heaving erratically. Bullets of sweat drip down his forehead and there is a deep frown on his face. He seems asleep but he looks far from being peaceful.

You enter the room; your eyes languidly take in the curves of his shoulders, the muscles on his arms and his chiseled torso that are illuminated by the shaft ray of moonlight pouring through the window. Suguru always opts for loose clothing; his naked image that you've sculpted in your mind is a drastic comparison to the real thing. You thought he's going to be built like the gods but... He isn't. There is still softness; a mix of godhood and humanity in his features and your fingers twitch with the desire to touch and hold him.

Your eyes travel down his black sweatpants. The poor garment is hanging on for its dear life on his prominent v-line. His lower abdomen has a pathway of light black bush that leads to his...

You swallow thickly. There is an indentation of his dick against the fabric. You know it's wrong but your body begins to feel that familiar warmth. Here he is, the source of your mirth. The destination of your late night adventures when deep-seated desires stir. The subject of your dreams, of your fantasies, the muse of your high as thick hot cum dribbles down your inner thighs while you gasp for air; reality settles and you feel pathetic with your fingers knuckle-deep inside your cunt.

You should leave. But then what? Remain on the sidelines, longing for him, envying other girls and touching yourself to the idea of him? Here he is, served with his walls down. If you can have him once, just once…

You close the door. The sharp sound of the lock's bolt sends tingles all over your body. Slowly, you approach him. Shame burns your gut and makes your cheeks flushed. But you're here. You're here now. What matters is right now.

Slowly, you kneel in the space between his spread legs. The mattress shifts and you eye him nervously. But Suguru is still in deep sleep even when you pull down the waistband of his sweatpants and his cock springs free.

"Ah..." You breathe out, calming your heart. It's beating in your ears now as you stare at his length that's resting on his lower stomach.

The picture of his dick that you've crafted in your head is similar to the real deal and that makes you uncharacteristically giddy. It's on the longer side and its bulbous crown is pinkish in color.

With shaking fingers, you reach for it. He stays still even as your hand closes in around the base and gives him a few pumps.

"Suguru…" you whisper. The normalcy of you whispering his name like a prayer is true only in your bedroom as you touch yourself. But right now…

You continue your ministries as you stare at him anxiously. Is he going to wake up? A part of you wishes he does. Hoping that you will get to experience the stories you've heard from the women he fucked before. For him to watch you as you serve him, the memory ingraining in his mind. Your chest burns with envy again but you get a grip of yourself.

Who cares? The pad of your thumb caresses his tip. Your experience will be different. Exclusive.

You lean your entire torso down, your ass hanging in the air. You purse your lips and gather a blob of saliva before spitting it out on his dick. You use your own fluid as lube, pumping him a little bit faster now.

"So pretty, Suguru," you giggle when he breathes deeply. His cock is smooth and it's now starting to take a rigid stance. "I'm sure you taste pretty, too."

You descend your lips and pepper his length with feathery kisses. Lolling your tongue, you give him a few kitten licks, particularly the tip that you find endearingly charming.

He smells so good, too. Sweet like warm vanilla. You open your mouth and shove his length in. He's a bit longer than what you can take so your hands wrap around what's left of his dick, pumping it simultaneously as you bob your head.

He moans in his sleep, tossing a bit. Tears prick your eyes when his length hits the back of your throat. Your hands instinctively squeeze his hips, putting him in one place. You hollow your cheeks and pick up your pace, tongue swirling and licking the tip that's now leaking with precum.

"Haaa…" he gasps and you freeze.

You look at him; your eyes widen when you meet his dilating pupils. "W-what…"

He seems at loss but he doesn't push you away. Suguru blinks a few times at you as he heaves. You can almost see the cogs in his brain turn as he takes it all in.

You quickly release his dick with a loud pop before straddling him by the waist. "Shhh… It's okay."

You cup his face as panic settles in your nerves. You stare deeply into his eyes but notice that they're… absent. It's as if they are somewhere else even though they're looking at you.

"It's fine," you whisper. "It's fine. You're good. Trust me."

His head falls back on the pillows and he winces. You take the chance to finally kiss him, your legs pressing against his sides. He lays motionless, his eyes now closed. Panic dissipates from your nerves… now replaced by the thrill of it all.

You cup his cheeks and forcefully slither your tongue in. You shut your eyes and moan into his lips; he tastes like peppermint. Hollowing your cheeks again, you suck on his tongue.

When you pull away, a string of saliva keeps your lips connected. He opens his eyes, whispering something along the lines of "Who are you?"

You don't answer. Instead, you kiss and lick his skin. Worship every nook and cranny of his flesh, marking him. Your hands are all over the place too, touching him, staining his body with your shameless, scorching affection that you can no longer contain.

Your mouth envelops around his nipple as your other hand kneads on the other. You look up at him while you suck like a starved baby. He groans, his weak body trembling a bit.

"You like it?" You ask, swirling your tongue on his perked nipple. "You like being sucked like this, Suguru?"

He mumbles something that you didn't catch and do not honestly care about. Your lips go south, reaching his happy trail and his cock again.

"S-sto…p," he sighs when you press your face against his dick. "Stop… it…"

"But it makes you feel good, though…" you reply. "See? You like it. You're hard."

You shove it in your mouth again. Suguru groans like an angel as his hips buck upwards; his dick reaching the back of your throat again. He says he wants you to stop but his entire body's reaction does not match his words.

"Stop!" He screams, trying to pull away. But you keep your head in place, gripping his hips. Greedily, you suck him off until his cock trembles and spurts hot ropes of milky cum in your throat.

You pull away and swallow hard— he tastes salty. You smirk at him. He's frowning while gasping for breath.

"Wh…"

"Shhh," you shush him, leaning down and kissing his cheek. "It's alright. You taste so good, Suguru."

The words spilling out of your mouth, as well as the desire that is overtaking your body are beyond the heavens now. Your mind is in a haze and your pussy pulsates with need. You want him. You want him so bad it hurts.

"You seem weak," you whisper. "What happened to you?"

"I…" he mumbles.

You coo and kiss him again. "Shhh. It's okay. You're safe with me. I love you so much, Suguru. I love you so, so much."

You sit up on his stomach and take off your top. Your breasts spill out of the garment and Suguru can only watch with droopy eyes.

"I've always wanted you…" you mutter as you lift your hips. You take his hand and bring his fingers to your mouth to suck them.

When they're wet enough, you guide them to your aching cunt. You hold onto his index finger and use it to rub your warm clit. You keep your eyes on him as he remains still, letting you do whatever you want. He looks confused and it makes your heart ache. What's going on with him?

"Gonna put 'em in…" you whisper and slowly ease in two of his fingers inside you.

A moan rips out of your lips when his slender fingers fit snug inside your walls. You move your hips— up and down, up and down until his entire fingers are coated with your cum.

You take them off, licking the middle finger before you align the index in his mouth. He whips his head to the side— a stubborn act of defiance that makes you annoyed.

"What the fuck? You did this with other girls, I bet. Other girls that don't fucking care about you," you angrily snap, cupping his jaw. "And you can't do it for the one who loves you? How dare you?!"

You squeeze his cheeks until his lips form a small opening. You shove his index finger in, coated with your cum. With a maniacal smile on your lips, you watch as he struggles.

"I taste good, right?" You laugh and kiss him on the lips, tasting your own essence on his tongue. "I taste so good."

"S…sto—"

"Sh," you hush him. "Don't say anything. I don't want to hear you talk. I only want to hear you whine and moan. Understood? Such a good boy, Suguru."

You get off of him. Hastily taking off your jeans and underwear, Suguru's eyes widen in panic. Before he can move away, you position yourself on his waist, straddling him again into place.

"I was so fucking envious of the girls you fucked," you laugh. "They say you're good in bed. I'm a bit sad that you're too weak to show me but don't worry, okay? I love you. I love you so much, I'm going to make you feel good."

Suguru shakes his head when he sees you lift your hips. He winces when he feels you drag his dick along your clit, using your cum as lube. You spit on the crown before finally shoving him in.

You hiss in pain as his bulbous tip bullies its way inside you. Suguru thrashes for a bit before you finally take him all in. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you quickly move to ease the pain; bouncing your hips on his cock.

You look down and see him completely helpless. He's too intoxicated to even think straight, moreso move. It delights you to see him like this; beneath you as you use him like your personal toy.

"Suguru," you gasp for breath, leaning closer to him. "Does it feel good? I feel so good."

He whips his head to the side again but you don't care this time. You're too lost in the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of you; caressing your gummy walls perfectly.

You anchor your hands on his chest and pick up the pace of your hips. It's starting to strain your legs and thighs but you're determined to reach the highest of highs. Strings of whimpers and groans escape his lips. You laugh upon realizing that he doesn't have a condom on and you're not taking any pills.

"Hey, Suguru—" your breath hitches in your throat when he hits that particularly sweet spot inside you. "You're gonna be so mad at me when you wake up tomorrow. Might as well get my fill, huh?"

It's all getting in your head. You arch your back as you put your hands on his knees to anchor yourself. You throw your head back, sliding in and out of him with ease. The squelching sounds of your skins are music to your ears.

Your mind wanders as your legs begin to tremble. God. What happens if you get pregnant? Just the thought of carrying Suguru's baby makes your entire body tingle and the knot in your lower belly tighten. You look down at him and smirk.

If by chance, you get the privilege of carrying his child, will he stay in your life? That's uncertain. But one thing's for sure and that is you will have a piece of him with you forever. A laughter slips out of your lips as the knot in your belly loosens and turns into a mess— hot cum gushes out of you and sprinkles his lower abdomen.

But you continue to move despite your shaking body. You need him to reach that high. You need him to cum deep inside you and fill your womb. Suguru's hips stutter as he lets out a guttural growl. You laugh once again when you pull out and see his sticky cum drip down your inner thighs. Quickly, you gather the fluid and shove your fingers inside you, not letting a drop go to waste.

The reality sets in, akin to the times you spent alone in your bed. But this time, it's different. You don't feel pathetic. Matter-of-fact, you feel happy. Your dream is now fulfilled. This experience is yours and yours alone. And even if Suguru fucks other girls, it doesn't matter anymore. You have a piece of him in you now. You're certain that no girls had their ways with him until you. You were in charge and that made you feel powerful.

Suguru's eyes flutter until they finally close. Sweat drips down his forehead as his chest begins to heave deeply. His face does not look like he's in pain anymore and that makes you smile.

You lean towards him and kiss him for the last time on the lips before you get dressed. You pull up his sweatpants, his cock now flaccid. You don't bother wiping him clean. Even just for tonight, you want him all over you.

You leave the house with your head above the clouds; your throbbing cunt misses him already.

#suguru x reader #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw: somnophilia #tw: noncon #tw: spitting #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk suguru #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #[noelle's works (⁠◕⁠દ⁠◕⁠)]#suguru geto x afab reader #suguru x afab reader #suguru geto x afab reader smut #suguru x afab reader smut #suguru smut

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sunnnfish · 2 months ago

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collection of shirashiro drafts, circa May 2024. because im crazy and insane. theres a lot and they're kinda long. good luck

May 13, 2024

SHIRASHIROOOOO

May 13, 2024

shirashiro. the childhood friendship. my fabiniku au. shirahamas wet paper towel swag has charmed tashiro. i could crossdress for you...? tashiro gets feelings first but hes genuinely so cool with it. doesnt even make a big deal about it. able to act completely normal except for straight up running away a few times. shirahama blushing at slightest displays of affection. especially after catching feelings. MOST IMPORTANTLY weird train rides home and playing video games together and teenage boyhood roughhousing that gets weird but shirahama has to go splash his face with water and tashiro laughs it off. they DONT get together in high school. god forbid. they go to mixers to get girlfriends til theyre at least 25. wait maybe. MAYBE. they become college roomies together cause theyre bestiessss and not weird about each other at all. bros before hoes am i right. dont worry about the sock on the door. tashiro gets a little gender too dont worry. shirahama is bi.

May 13, 2024

things about how shirahama laments bachelorhood and tashiro offers to fill in

May 14, 2024

shirashiro who dont get together in high school but go to mixers until their senior year of college, which they totally go to the same college and dorm together because theyre best friends, in which they come home from another failed mixer, midnight at best, leaning on each other halfway drunk and sad because they still cant get a girlfriend (because Something has been bubbling under the surface for a loooong time.) lighthearted crushes on girls at best, maybe on follow up date but nothing Sticks because they keep thinking about something else. nights up late playing video games, illuminated by the glow of the tv, menu music playing as they get sleepier and sleepier. nights up late playing shirahamas girly games, dating sims, tashiro telling him to pick the choices that he would like to be told. tashiros never one to keep things in, makes his affection known rather easily but shirahamas too goddamn self-deprecating that he doesnt think its real. i wanna get a girrllffriiieeennnddd... i could crossdress for you...? Comments about some scenario from his games he wants to experience, tashiro does every single one for him. doesnt say a word about anything Explicitly. he may be blunt but he does have some shame, some desire for a preservation of status quo.

May 14, 2024

they come home to a shared college dorm in senior year after another failed mixer, midnight at best, 3 AM at worst, drunk and leaning on each other lamenting their singularity again. unsaid Something keeping them from truly liking any girl enough to go steady. unsaid thoughts of Well who am i gonna play games with if you get a girlfriend. tashiro gets a little too close to a girl that night, he even seems kinda into her. shirahama feels--miffed. certainly not jealous. even though hes had half a mind to call it that recently.

witching hour and all, shirahamas haloed by fluorescent dorm lights that are far too bright for drunk 20-something year olds. shut em off... shirahama obliges, but now its too damn dark to see, dumbass. feel their way around each other and the room, moonlight replacing haloes and complimenting kyoujis hair way too well. gonzaburou looses his hair, ruffling it out of his face. unsaid somethings, blearily looking at each other in dark moonlight, socks and clothes already strewn around a college boys dorm. maybe we just werent made for girlfriends or something, one of them laughs. climbing into bunked beds, tashiro staring at the ceiling and shirahama staring at the bottom of a bed. then what were we made for? one of them echoes.

heavy with sleep, mmmmm... 'll think about it later.

#thinking about how we dont know shirahamas birthday #whos older/younger…

May 14, 2024

something about how id totally date you if you were a girl, tashiro

May 14, 2024

shirahamas like a sheep dog to me.

yknow

May 14, 2024

shirahama walks into the dorm one day to tashiro squinting in the mirror, gloves and bleach brush held over chunks of hair. "do you uhhh... need some help?" "no i uh. ive. i got it--" clearly struggling to see all the spots and Not drop bleach everywhere. "dude you need help" "ive done this before!!" "so?" walking over already, peeling the gloves off tashiros hands because those kits only ever come with one pair. tashiro pouts, shirahama pulls a chair over, "here." he grabs hair pins and properly sections it out, telling tashiro to tilt his head this way and that way, hold still man. stop pulling so hard! bleach burns at gonzaburous scalp where they put it too close. Kyouji finishes up, smoothing hair and tying a stupid plastic bag around it, takes a picture just for blackmail, snickering the whole way. Pulls up the current girly game hes playing while they wait 30 or so minutes. Tashiro makes fun of every girl. Timer goes off, washing rituals ensue—“I’ll just take a shower??” “No you cant let the bleach run down your body idiot”—puts his head under the sink, gonzaburou doesnt think too hard about the gentle massaging on his head, instead focusing on trying not to let bleach get in his eyes. Kyouji tells him to turn around and bend backwards so they can wash the front of the head. Kyouji doesnt think too hard about seeing gonzaburou literally bent backwards, eyes squeezed shut so bleach doesn’t get in them, instead focusing on washing all the bleach out and thinking about what hair care he’ll have to let gonzaburou use. Shuts off the sink, playfully ruffles his hair with a towel before properly giving it to him. Perfect smooth gold, better than gonzaburou’s ever gotten on his own. “So? How’d i do?” Smug grin met with a shove in the shoulder. “Shut up”

May 14, 2025

Drunk after a mixer, i wish i was a giiirrrllll (a la fabiniku), share a stupid look because they always seem to know what the other is thinking. cheap drugstore lipstick and eyeshadow and blush, as if the alcohol didn’t make them flushed enough. Small college dorm room lit by moonlight because normal lights are always too bright for tashiro to adjust to. Turn on the tv for some semblance of sight, automatically turning on whatever game they were previously playing. Sitting on shirahama’s bottom bunk bed. Stupidly giggling because they know this is stupid and a dumb idea, but something in gonzaburo flutters again as eyeshadow and blush and lipstick get painted on by somehow steady hands. Not that the steadiness makes it necessarily good by any means. Gon-chan can’t stop laughing, so everything is taking thrice as long as it should to put on, stop laughing dude, i can’t put it on straight, full of giggles in his own right. Okay okay, waves his hands and makes a stupidly serious face that just makes them laugh more. Okay for real this time, schools his face into a gentle smile, easily painted by lipstick now, getting harder to smile as he feels Kyouji hands near his lips. Dont think about pink elephants, gon-chan. Okay done. Kyouji snaps the lid closed for emphasis and smiles at his work, illuminated by a half-finished girly game and soundtracked by its gentle music. Certainly not good work at all, but enough in the minds of tipsy 20-something year olds up past midnight. Can i do your hair? - Sure why not. Gon-chan turns around, letting kyouji pull his hair loose and comb through it with his fingers. He grabs brushes and hair pins and fashions it in a simple but cute style, letting gon-chan’s bangs loose in a way they usually aren’t. So. How do i look? Subdued playful energy as kyouji stares a little too long and too quiet. Oh ummm. Like a girl? Exaggerated shrug and averted eyes and lazy smile like it was a normal reaction that wasn’t ten seconds too late. Gets a laugh out of both of them at least. Sleepiness finally in the air as gon-chan says Your turn >:). A lot quieter this time around, gon-chan’s shaky hands kinda tickle kyouji’s face. Gon-chan can’t stop himself from laughing as he pulls away, her hands less steady and eyes less artsy, it looks like a caricature. Kyouji’s exasperated expressions don’t make it any less funny. Too bad your hairs not long enough to do much with. Oh wait wait wait, smiling too big, takes his old ponytail and pulls up kyouji’s hair straight up and ties it. Laughs even harder to where shes not even making sound anymore, just shaking hiccups that start to hurt. Infectious enough to where kyouji laughs a bit too, but ultimately tells gon-chan to calm down. Touching his shoulder and laying next to him. They’ve been so tired for a damn long time at this point, it’s a miracle they haven’t passed out. Gon-chan rolls over on his spot on the bed, ‘m just gonna. Sleep here. kay. Already out of it by the time kyouji even processes. Whatever. He’ll be self-conscious about it in the morning.

May 14, 2024

shirahama gets a bunk bed at his house which is why tashiro convinces him to let him have the top in the dorms

#double entendres intended. Always

May 15, 2025

have to write this down so i dont forget. malts comment about shirahama being passionate despite how lethargic he looks and acts. compared to tashiro who looks bright and passionate but doesnt really know what he wants at any given moment. tashiro who thought Man shirahama sure seems passionate about basketball in the first years novel. wish that were me. you suck man ha ha. how dare you go somewhere without me. tashiro who has this bright and optimistic front that certainly is real but also enforced to cover things up. repression is about not letting anything slip, not even to yourself. dont let anyone know about fears of loneliness and lack of direction in life. go with the flow.... youre not actually worried about it! youre tashiro gonzaburou! you go with the flow! and youre totally fine with it! everybody knows youre fine with it. avoid responsibility and self-reflection. becoming ping pong club captain doesnt just happen to you. youre a genius tashiro. youll be okay.

#im normallll....

May 15, 2024

anyways. shirashiro college majors or something. tashiro undeclared or undecided or whatever cause im evil. maybe eventually settles on some kind of sports science. shirahama something artsy. maybe even like. theater design..? does anyone see the vision. oorrr makeup artist...? Does Anyone See The Vision

-----

okay me from Today. January 10, 2025. this was my shirashiro spiral that i never posted about because im deathly shy but im over it and i need everybody to know the core of this. i was thinking about kind of editing this all together but im too lazy and also i hate cutting stuff out.

shirashiro is fundamentally something that doesn't happen for a long time to me. because best friendship gets weird like that. and i think its really easy to think about kissing someone late at night, lit only by the tv glow. anyways. also if anyone wants to know more about my "fabiniku au" as i mentioned a few times. 1) read fabiniku (manga) 2) ask me about it and i'll find the link to an old post i made about it. anyways again. this is going to be such a shirashiro-tastic 2025. go forth my shirashiro warriors

#shirashiro #tashiro gonzaburou #shirahama kyouji #ssmyverse #sasaki to miyano #sasaki and miyano #sunnfish.txt #also if you've seen any fics kind of similiar to these #thats bc ive told some people about it before and they ran with the ideas. because theyre awesome #:)

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titlemewickedwonderland · 2 years ago

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Mine (Swiss Ghoul x Fem!OC)

Summary: After escaping her toxic ex-boyfriend Y/n runs to the only place that had ever made her feel safe. As a long-term friend of Copia and his ghouls she swears that she is destined to be alone forever because of her poor taste in men; what happens though wen one of her best friends disagrees and confesses something very important that may alter the relationship between them?

Fandom: Ghost (Swedish Band)

Pairing: Swiss x Fem!Reader

Triggers: Cussing, innuendos, mention of mental and physical abuse

Auth. Note: The portrayal of Ghouls and Papa is from a fandom base and imagination alone; the personas of the band do not have anything to do with the real people behind the masks. I am a fan of their music and respect their privacy so their stage persona is separate from the real-life individuals in my works.

My Workshop

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and her teeth sank into the plush of her bottom lip as her skin sparked with fire that made it tingle. She could image the torn skin bubbling around the edges as the antiseptic killed any germs or debris that may have managed to get into her wound. She did not whimper though - she could at least take pride in that. She did not utter a sound to express the pain. It's not like the worst has come yet. A rough padded thumb pressed against her mouth gently but insistent as it pulled her lip from between her teeth as a hum broke the silence in the dimly lit room.

The lamp on the desk was their only source of light; the darkness that did not reach its border seemed foreboding and cold in the dead of night. A quick glance at the old circular clock on the wall by the door read it as nearly 2:00 a.m. in the morning causing a new sensation of guilt to tug at her heart; distracting her from the pain on her face.

"Mi cara, you should have told me sooner." his voice was soft and tinged with the readiness for sleep.

Y/n's eyes shifted from the clock to the man in front of her. Her vision was aided only by the yellowed light of the lamp beside them casting wary shadows along the man's unpainted face and the dark circles beneath his eyes causing him to take on the appearance of a human panda. His hair with brushed back but only by natural force instead of the hair gel she was used to and in this light, it looked a little greyer than usual - the black hair dye must have faded since the last time she saw him.

But instead of answering him, she reached out to playful swipe at the hair above his lips. "This is new. I don't know if I like it yet or not." she teased but the man's lips only curved downwards further causing her to sigh and drop her head a little - dislodging the attempts of cleaning the cuts along her face.

"What would you have done Copia? Whisked me away to hide me in the Abbey like a long lost remnant of the past? I'm not a little girl anymore, I can't always be relying on you to protect me like before." Y/n's voice sounded pessimistically fed up and tired.

Copia huffed out a breath and waved his hands. "Of course, I would have taken you away! You are no lost remnant of the past, principessa. You are a treasure and one of my closest friends. No... you are famiglia! Why do you insist on returning to him when you know he will only hurt you again? Won't you say yes and stay here?" the man's words ended almost pleading as his mismatched eyes stared at the younger woman in front of him with sadness in his eyes and anger in his blood.

Y/n had been such a great friend for the last several years. Before he had ever been chosen to be the next Papa, Copia was nothing but a Cardinal and in most eyes not as important as a papa but Y/n had always treated him with kindness and with humanity - treated him like a lost long friend from the get-go. He met her through his brother Terzo who was papa before him. She had been a good friend to Terzo and often visited the Abbey; making friends with the Clergy and Ghouls alike with her sunshine spirit, unique humor, and infectious smiles. Despite never joining the Clergy officially everyone who had known her during that time thought her part of the family. She just...stopped coming around after Terzo's death except on the rare occasion like tonight when she'd slink back in for safety with her tail between her legs covered in cuts and bruises because of her new boyfriend of a few months. He did not deserve her and Copia could never find it in himself to force her to stay in the safety of those she knew would never lift a finger unlike the stupid boy she dated - a boy not worthy enough to be called a man.

"I'll just...I just needed to clear my head Copia and-"

the door to papa's office burst open and a figure bent over with hands on their knees panting. Nostrils flared and hair askew from sleep stumbled in the pack with eyes filled with a frenzy. Y/n hadn't seen the ghouls often without their masks and the sight was always a wonder more than a fright to see them unglamoured with their ashen skin, claws, fangs, and extra appendages.

"Oh for satanas-" Copia threw the blooded cotton ball he had been using to clean Y/n's cuts with on the table and began to stand up but a deep growl that sounded near feral vibrated within the office and the man halted mid-motion.

Ghouls were not always as dangerous as most people would like to think. Well, not to Y/n who knew how to handle them. They were rather domesticated as they lived lives as mostly humans despite being creatures of Hell. So the woman did not startle when a lithe frame bolted forward and she was jerked forward by her shoulders. An unmasked face buried itself into her neck and she felt the puffs of exhaled warm breath along the skin of her neck as she craned it to the side submissively allowing the ghoul to take in her scent.

There was another growl of disapproval and anger as the creature pulled back and Y/n was faced with the fierce glare of the Multi Ghoul Swiss as he assessed the damage to her face.

"Tell me." his voice was pitched much lower and deeper than the usual light-hearted bantering tone she was used to. "Tell me who did this to you." he demanded

Y/n swallowed unable to look away from his piercing stare and somewhere behind the ghoul Aether's familiar tone pitched in with an apologetic look on his face.

"We smelled the blood as soon as you came into the abbey. We were worried..."

Y/n's lips curled slightly into a reassuring smile as she raised her hands to grab at the strong forearms bare and warm beneath her touch in hopes to soothe the agitated ghoul.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you guys...I forgot you guys could smell that far...I-I thought if I just came to Copia and get patched up I'd be gone by the morning and you wouldn't have to see me like this..." she trailed off.

The ghouls were always so protective and sweet with her but she and Swiss had a special bond - he was like her best friend and easy banter and flirtiness were their love language. Never had she seen him look so..so upset and feral before. Casting her gaze away from Swiss she looked over his shoulder to find Aether standing by the door watching a very irritated fire ghoul pace in front of them while Rain leaned against Mountain who was guarding the door watching with worried green and blue eyes alike. Dew was pacing back and forth; clawed hands flexing while every once in a while he'd look her way only to growl every so often under the watchful gaze of Aether. the scent of blood must be getting to him; Dewdrop was always the most sensitive when it came to blood and she wouldn't have been surprised if he had been the one to smell her first and alert the others. Ghouls were just like that but if one of their own was injured the entire pack was on high alert.

"W-well now that you've been found out I suppose there is no use running away now hmm?" Copia sighed rising to his feet and rubbing a hand through his hair. "All of you off to bed now. Mi care you can stay-"

Swiss didn't allow Copia to finish and instead, his arms wrapped around the girl and hoisted her up so quickly she squeaked and wrapped around him like a koala. Thighs and arms holding on tightly as he braced her against his lean body and pushed past his pack mates to walk down the halls towards the Ghouls den.

"Swiss." Y/n grumbled feeling her cheeks flush in the darkness but due to the amazing night vision of these creatures, she knew he probably saw it anyway.

"Mountain can fix you up and then you're coming to bed with me." the multi-ghoul snapped back causing Y/n to wince at his tone.

He did not let go or say anything until they were safely back in the Ghoul's common rooms. She was directed into Swiss' familiar room filled to the brim with music posters, music sheets, instruments, and more shapes within the darkness Y/n was not able to make out as she was plopped on the large bed big enough for more than just two. Her back was pulled flush to Swiss' chest as he yanked her by her waist to him; curling around her from behind like some kind of inhumane ghoul cape causing warmth to spread through her as she heard the subtle sniffing and the almost inaudible growl the multi ghoul let out; it was almost so silent that she felt it against her back more than hearing it.

Mountain kneeled in front of the pair with a jar in his hand filled with some kind of creamy gel inside tinted a sickly green and when he opened it the scent of earth, pine, and something almost spicy invaded her nose making her cough when it got inhaled too deeply into her lungs. The tall ghoul gave a slight rumble of amusement before his attention was drawn toward the ghoul draped over her back.

"May I?" he asked quietly and Y/n's mouth turned into a confused frown as she glanced between the pair.

Why was Mountain asking Swiss' permission? She was the one that was injured but the way her best friend tensed against her back for a moment had her ignoring the silent question in her mind and reaching up to grab at the toned forearm wrapped around her chest and gave it a few soothing strokes with her fingers. That seemed to do the trick as she felt his body slacken against her again and Mountain made a soothing noise as if in thanks to the other before dipping his fingers into the sticky mess in the jar.

He reached out towards her face and the cold substance felt almost tingly against her skin as he carefully smeared it along the bruise on her cheekbone and then returned with a new dap of whatever cream it was to the cut on her other cheek causing her to hiss out in pain as the minty tingly feeling invaded the open cut with more potency than the antiseptic crap Copia had dabbed it with earlier. The sound of pain slipping from her caused Swiss to snarl startling her and lurch forward toward Mountain nearly tumbling her along with him but Mountain seemed to have already predicted it and jerked backward just as Rain who had by this point gone unnoticed grabbed Swiss by his shoulders from where he had been perched in the bed beside them silent as a mouse to tug him back against his smaller frame; a chittering noise coming from him as he tried to soothe the other.

Y/n half turned to look at the pair with wide eyes and a hand instinctively placing it on the heaving chest behind her. "Hey there big boy, it's okay! Calm down Swiss. Mountain didn't hurt me...it's okay." she tried to soothe with a fake smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Swiss bared his fangs again and struggled but despite the smaller frame of Rain at his back, the little ghoul was rather strong; strong enough to keep the other at bay.

"Mine!"

Y/n blinked and she inhaled sharply at the proclamation. Something in side of her seemed to click into place as she stared at how feral Swiss seemed to be and she reached out to test the theory as she rested her hand on Mountain's large shoulder only to have Swiss struggling anew and causing Rain to grunt when an elbow jabbed him in the stomach.

"Okay! Okay! Swiss hey! Look at me!" Y/n's hand yanked back and she flapped it at the other two quickly. "GO! I can handle this. You're just making him more agitated-"

"But Y/n-" Rain piped up and she shook her head once sharply.

"I think you know what's going on....and Swiss and I have to talk. But we can't talk if he's riled up right now...please just..." she sighed rubbing her forehead. "It's been a long night."

A long night that was not yet over as Mountain gave a brief nod and recapped the jar. Helping Rain off of Swiss so that the pair could slip from the room. As soon as Y/n and Swiss were alone the lanky male pulled the girl to him. Sprawling her unceremoniously on top of him as he held her almost too tightly while burying his face into her neck.

"Oof!" Y/n pushed at his stomach to get leverage but it only caused the other to tighten his hold.

So Y/n waited while Swiss calmed down enough for her to shift into a more comfortable position. Her face lifted to meet his in the dimly lit room.

"I'm going to kill him."

"You can't kill Mountain, Swiss."

The other snorted and pressed his nose against her hair; inhaling her scent like it was the last thing on earth. "I'm talking about the bastard that hurt you."

Y/n went silent. She didn't need to ask how he knew who it was; the ghoul's scent was inhuman - that was already proven when the pack barged into Copia's office earlier.

"He is my boyfriend...well I mean, ex-boyfriend now I guess." Y/n found herself relaxing with her head resting against her best friend's shoulder while she tucked herself into his body.

"He usually doesn't go this far...But, he said that I was cheating on him with my co-worker because he saw me eating lunch with him. It was a meeting to discuss a project we were working on together as a team...Ironically, my co-worker is actually gay so. Jokes on him."

"Is this the same guy....you said you met on that dating app a few months ago? Is that why you haven't been coming by as often?" Swiss' voice finally spoke into the darkness

She shrugged slightly and played with the fabric of his sleep shirt. "Yeah...I guess. I'd like to say it was because of work but...I think we both knew it wasn't. I'm sorry...for not telling you sooner. I usually called Copia to meet me outside so my scent wouldn't get to you guys..." She felt her eyes sting with tears.

"I've been so fucking stupid. I'm sorry Swiss...I'm so fucking sorry." her body trembled with her tears and the ghoul felt his heart tighten as did his arms around her to hold her still against him.

"Aw sweets, you didn't have to hold it from me...you're my best friend...me and the pack...for satanas sake Y/n we'd have pulled you out of there sooner, baby." he closed his eyes tightly and hugged her for his own comfort as much as hers.

They held each other; taking comfort for the turmoil that resided in both of their hearts due to tonight's endeavor. But it was Y/n that finally calmed down enough to speak; her voice suddenly shy as she sniffed back the rest of her tears.

"Hey Swiss..." she asked tentatively. When she received a lulling hum that vibrated into her chest from his she continued. "W-what did you mean earlier?...."

"Hmm?"

"You told Mountain..." she swallowed. "You called me yours."

Swiss' body still unnaturally so beneath her and she feared she'd said something wrong. They were best friends...it wasn't as if they hadn't talked about such things before. Well, perhaps more sexual innuendos before but that was teasing jokes and jabs. The question seemed too personal and yet a delicate matter.

"What do you know about ghouls, Y/n?" Swiss finally asked and she blinked at the soft question.

"Well, I mean you're demons...you got abilities... you're packing animals in a way and a little animalistic at times since you're not human...And you were summoned here for a reason. Why?" she tilted her head up to find that surprisingly Swiss' ashen skin was tinged with blush and he wouldn't meet her gaze.

"What comes with being a pack animal?" he insisted licking his lips

Y/n frowned thoughtfully but when she didn't reply Swiss continued. "Every creature has a partner...some animals have homosexual partnerships and others normal; some when are in close pack dynamics there is more than one partner they spend the rest of their lives with...but to continue the species every animal must have a significant other...have you ever noticed how Rain and Mountain seem close? Closer than the usual familial pack dynamics? O-Or how Dew and I are close in the same way..."

He watched slowly as the information dawned on her and Y/n pushed herself up with a pinched brow. "Are you telling me Mountain and Rain are life partners and you and Dew too?" she blinked at him. "I mean no judgment from me obviously but damn. That's news." she laughed a bit and sat up to sit crisis cross on his bed.

Swiss looked a bit frustrated as he too sat up. "Sweetheart you aren't understanding...Mates are overly protective of each other and have a stronger bond that goes deeper than a pack dynamic bond. The way Dew was acting when we barged in tonight at Copia's office...h-how I acted earlier...and nearly tore Mountain's throat out?" his eyes were insistent as he leaned closer scanning her face.

Realization dawned slowly like the sun rising over the horizon during sunrise and Swiss felt his heart constrict with nerves. "Swiss are you...."

His breath came out like a balloon popping and his head dropped to his head. "Shit baby. Dew doesn't even realize it yet...I had figured it out during your last visit before Tero's death but I didn't want to say anything because I was scared to scare you off..I didn't realize that I had almost lost you and when I saw you tonight I just- the blood...the knowledge..the fact that I hadn't seen you in such a long time I just-"

Y/n's hands gripped the front of his shirt and she was yanking him in before he could finish his ramblings. His mouth tasted too damn good as she pressed her lips to his. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she took in the sensation of kissing her best friend - it was so natural and made her feel whole...loved in a way she hadn't in such a long time. It was nothing like kissing her ex-boyfriend and a small part of her brain stupidly smacked her for being so blind to have seen the signs earlier.

When the air became too thin within the confinements of their lungs they parted with panting breaths but Swiss kept her close with a firm hold on her face; pressing his forehead to hers and crowding her against the mattress where she lay flat on her back staring up at him with wide eyes as she searched his face.

"You didn't lose me." her words came shaky as her hands loosened in his shirt only to slide up his back to hold him closer to her. "I'm sorry I was so blind...I didn't realize," she whispered feeling her throat constrict thinking that she'd isolated herself for so long because of her ex-boyfriend she missed out on finding the man she really wanted all along was right in front of her.

"Shh..." Swiss' lips pecked hers again before drawing her into another deep kiss - this time it was sweet and lingering. "I would have waited...shit, I would have been happy just to be near you even if you never knew..."

"I wouldn't have...I would have missed you and the others...the abbey and the papas too much to stay arm's length away from you guys. You guys are my home." her eyes sparkled looking up at him and Swiss shot her a toothy grin.

"So...you gonna stay?"

"Do I have a choice?" she teased rubbing her nose against his and was rewarded with a chittering sound as the multi-ghoul lowered himself fully on her and rested his head against her chest; listening to her heartbeat.

"Not anymore." his hands gripped her sides to hold her as he nuzzled at her collarbone.

Y/n laughed and sank her fingers into his curls and scraped at his scalp like she knew he liked it. "I'm all yours Swiss." she promised.

"Uh...well actually.." Swiss tilted his head up with a tentative smile.

She linked at him. "Dew doesn't know does he?"

"Well...no."

"Oh, I'm so telling him!"

"You are not!" fingers pressed to her sides causing her to shriek in laughter and wiggle beneath his hold.

When she couldn't breathe anymore Swiss stole whatever breath she did have left in her lungs with a kiss before pulling away to stare down at her. His hand came up to stroke along the side of her face and he gave her a softened smile as he rested their foreheads together again.

"Well, I suppose I can get used to my boyfriend having a boyfriend..." Y/n finally conceded with an airy but playful tone. "However will I handle two boyfriends to love me?"

Swiss grinned "Oh...I have a few ideas...." his grin turned a little more seductive and Y/n felt her heat flush.

"No...Swiss hey...no! Bad ghoul!" she scrambled from beneath him - a feat she knew he allowed while she scampered across the room and flung open the door with a wail of excited panic.

"Dew!!!"

Swiss gave a toothy grin that nearly split his face before he was launching himself down the hall full force into a chase.

Auth. Note: This is my first Ghost Band one shot so I hope it's not too bad and is entertaining at best for you guys! I love this band so much that it's unhealthy. More to come if people are interested! I have a full list of one-shots for this fandom <3

#the band ghost #swiss ghoul #swiss army ghoul #cardinal copia #ghost band #ghost #nameless ghouls #Ghost oneshot #Swiss Ghoul oneshot #Swiss ghoul x reader

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soapier · 12 days ago

Text

playing pretend

sapnap x f!reader

you seek refuge in another bar patron for the night, both feeling lonely after a rough week.

warnings: takes place in a bar, alcohol, mentions of cheating and breakups, shitty ending

++ i might extend this into a longer fic, it has potential ngl. lmk what you think. sorry its kind of short, i’m literally on campus writing this.

the music was loud in the bar, lights flashing, disorienting you further than your four vodka crans had.

it was a saturday, the first saturday since your boyfriend dumped you. your friends forced you to come out, claiming it would help you get over it. so far, they were wrong.

your jeans hugged your curves just so, and your backless top showed off the streaky, half-assed self tan that your roommate made you apply. your friends wanted you to have a reason to get dolled up, maybe feel pretty for the first time all week. you didn’t feel particularly pretty, though.

you gave up on dancing, the act of doing it alone bumming you out severely. navigating through the sweaty bodies on the dance floor, you found an open seat at the bar and situated yourself, ordering a beer to cool you off.

the bartender winked as he took the cash from your hand, making you feel more icky than flattered.

that’s when you heard the man next to you speak. “you look sad,” he said, more of a question than an observation.

“gee, thanks,” you grumbled, resting your chin on your hand. you took a moment to observe the man who initiated conversation; blue eyes, dark hair, and a patchy beard. he wore a hoodie and jeans, not exactly bar attire.

“you good?” he took a sip from his drink, something dark and bubbling.

you sighed, are you really going to confide in some random stranger? you may as well, seeing as your friends have gone AWOL on you.

“my friends dragged me out. said it’ll make me feel better,” you grumbled, nursing the bottle in front of you.

“from what?”

“huh?” you didn’t get the question with your mind’s clouded state.

“the bar will make you feel better from what?” he clarified, turning his body to face you.

you sighed, not believing that you’re about to debrief your week with this guy. “got cheated on. then got dumped. having a great week, i gotta admit,” you grinned a bit, making yourself laugh.

he smiled, “seems like it.” he paused, “i’m in a similar boat. shit sucks, huh?”

you were sucked in by his eyes, glittering in the flashing light. “sure does.”

you sipped your drink again before asking, “did your friends drag you out too?”

he laughed. “yeah, they did,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “told me to get laid, that i’d get over her.”

you rolled your eyes, is that the only reason he’d talked to you? “and how’s that going for you?”

“fuckin’ terrible.” he smiled, “i got no game.”

you nodded in agreement, “i’ll drink to that.”

the two of you toasted your drinks, a bittersweet ‘clink’ barely audible over the music.

he hopped up, offering you a hand. “wanna dance?”

you looked for a second, weighing your options. you could join him, knowing he probably just wanted to hit, or you could sit at the bar, pathetically drowning your sorrows in over-priced, watered-down drinks.

“sure,” you smiled and took his hand, letting him lead you towards the center of the dance floor.

some country-pop tune blared through the speakers, and he twirled you awkwardly. with a giggle you stumbled into his chest, “i’m y/n, by the way.”

“nick,” he smiled down at you, impressive height now revealed.

the two of you continued to dance together, giggly and uncoordinated. a few songs later, though, your face dropped as the first few notes of a familiar song rang out.

“hey, hey… what’s that about?” he said, face soft. he cupped your cheek in his hand, watching your eyes well up.

you half laughed, roughly wiping at the few escaped tears. “i’m sorry, it’s stupid, this was my ex and i’s song.” you felt stupid admitting that to him, thinking he’d judge you. “i just feel… ridiculously single, right now.”

he smiled, akd you felt the warmth of his hands on your waist, “me too, y/n, me, too.”

his smile was soft, eyes kind.

“lets just… pretend, right now. just for tonight, we’re not single.” he said softly, clearly feeling a similar hurt to your own. the offer hung heavy in the air, seeming to suck up all of the air in the room.

you paused, before nodding. “sure. okay, yeah,” it seemed like you were trying to convince yourself, more than you were agreeing.

he smiled, twirling you again. “deal.”

you smiled and watched him lean in, feeling his lips on yours.

“this okay?” he asked, bright eyes searching your own.

blushing, you nod. “yeah, that’s okay.”

jokingly, you took his hand and raised your arm, signalling for him to do a spin. he laughed as he did so, having to bend awkwardly to duck under your connected hands.

watching him crane his body just to make you laugh filled your chest with a slight warmth, you felt ever so slightly less lonely in that moment.

the two of you danced together for nearly an hour without speaking, just taking comfort in one another’s lighthearted presence.

a slower song played, incredibly rare for the bar you were at, and you felt him pull you close to his firm chest, the two of you rocking softly with the music. he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, relishing in the company.

before you could react, however, you felt someone tear you off, grip firm on your arm.

it was your roommate, informing you that the uber was waiting outside, that you had to leave now, that they’d already begged him to wait a couple extra minutes because they couldn’t find you.

she ripped you off of the tall man, nick, and you were halfway through the door by the time you were able to process and look back, meeting his sad, surprised eyes from across the crowd.

“you didn’t even let me get his number!”

—

let me know if you’d want to see this extended, i feel like i have the base for a solid longer story in here.

#sapnap #sapnap x reader #sapnap x you #unresolved issues #pretend dating #just kind of a sweet little story #lmk if you want a full fic of this or if i should leave it unresolved as-is #i dont even watch sapnap i just wanna fuck him

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wandafiction · 1 year ago

Text

Heart Like Yours

Warnings: Description of Terminal illness, talks of death, Sad and Angsty

(Unknown PoV)

I watch carefully, hidden behind the door looking through the small glass window, my body mostly hidden behind the wall so only part of my face is visible. The smiles on their faces are enough to light up the room, talking animatedly the light of the room dancing orbs in their eyes. Their hands tightly holding onto one another's, thumbs rubbing over knuckles, fingers tracing around the side of their hands; never not touching in some way as their fingers lace together.

Palms pressing together, laughing slightly at the size difference in their hands; one considerably smaller than the other, their fingertips ever so carefully touching as if scared that their hands will pass right through one another and none of it will be real. I watch as one of them leans down slightly resting their forehead against the other, soft words being spoken between themselves; lips brushing together but neither closing the distance.

The rings on their fingers almost seem to be glowing in the warmth light of the sun that has pushed its way through the clouds to light up the moment, my heart constricting at the pain I see in their eyes as their lips finally meet. Hands shaking, eyes closing lips never parting as they relish in the moment, in the warmth. The two of them are trapped in a bubble, to which the only escape is the door I’m standing in front of. A small giggle manages to make its way to my ears; a lone tear falling down my cheek as I see them smiling back at one another. A hand weaving through the dark locks, pushing it behind their ears as they brush their noses together.

I don’t have enough courage to enter the room, or maybe it’s because I don’t want to interrupt whatever moments - whatever time - they have left with one another. My hand still reaches for the handle of the door, my other wiping at my cheek to hide the fact that I may or may not have been crying all the way over here. My eyes follow the movement as my one friend sits in her seat, having become a bed for many nights over many months, its rightful place next to the bed in which my other friend has not left in too long. Short walks permitted, showers permitted, going onto the zen garden permitted, going home not permitted. So many times have I listened to the knocks at my front door and even with it being a thin possibility I always hope it's them that have come to surprise me.

The click of the door handle brings me out of my thoughts, not even realising my body was ready to enter the room while my mind was going crazy with a million thoughts going too fast to even process. The small noise seems to bring my two friends out of their moment and I’m afraid I might have popped the bubble they were living in, but instead of allowing it to dissipate completely they seem to just make it bigger with their smiles and small waves inviting me into it. Allowing me to become part of something they have been fighting together, allowing someone else into the ring with the towel and water, to give them a much needed break. I swallow the lump in my throat along with every pained emotion as they both smile at me, my one friend standing from her chair making her way over to me and pulling me into a tight hug. My arms immediately wrap around her body and I feel my own walls break, the lump in my throat is back and the emotions come back along with it and I feel tears start falling one after the next.

“Hey no tears, new rule. No tears allowed when in this room.” I can’t help but chuckle pulling myself away from the embrace looking at my friend in the bed as I wipe at my tears.

“What rule number is that? There are so many I've lost count.” I feel something soft hit my face with some force, laughing when I see the pillow on the floor and my friend flipping me off.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you the one in the bed? I think not, so I make the rules you live by them.” They say playfully with so much sass it's like they haven’t changed at all.

“Well I did come here to see you, pass on the love from the family but your wife seems like much better company.” I smugly reply, wrapping my arm around the woman who is still standing next to me pulling her into my side as she throws her head back laughing at the look on her wife’s face.

“Hey, Nat play nice. I’m dying here and you’re already trying to get with my girl. Damn at least wait until after my funeral. Yes! Rule number 172. Nat and Wanda must not get with each other until Wanda’s wife, aka me, aka the greatest baddest bitch in the world, aka Y/n has passed on in this world to whatever lay beyond. Which I really hope is like a land made of candy and instead of horses its unicorns, and the rainbows would be made out of jellybeans and there would be like giant candy creatures or food creatures. Damn I love food. I dream about it most nights, no offense Wands you make a great second place.”

Wanda scoffs picking the pillow that was thrown at me earlier and throws it so it hits Y/n square in the face. All three of us burst out laughing as I let go of my hold on Wanda, letting her take her seat in her rightful place as I stand at the end of the bed, my hands resting on Y/n’s calves giving them a light squeeze.

“So what’s the news?” I ask with dread as I see them both look at each other with sad eyes then back to me and I bow my head already knowing the news.

“I don’t qualify for the treatment, it's spread too much and I’m too far gone for them to do anything.”

“So, what? We just stand here and watch you die?! No, I’m not having that. There has to be something they can do, that we can do. You can’t just die! You can’t just give up now, you’ve been fighting this for so long. Why would you give up now?” I spit angry at the situation and using my friends as the verbal punching bag.

“Natasha.” Wanda’s scolding voice makes me cower, lifting my head slightly so I can look at her.

“It’s okay Wanda, she is just angry as were you. Just let her process it, let her deal with it.” Y/n says softly and Wanda nods her head, her body deflating as she leans down resting her head on Y/n’s thigh, her finger tracing around her knee.

“You can’t just quit Y/n. You’re not a quitter.”

“I’ve been fighting this battle for too long Natasha, far too long and I have been losing for some time. I’m not calling it quits because the battle ended a long time ago and we were all just kidding ourselves when we continued on with it. There are no winners in this one, we just have to accept that we cannot beat what we are fighting, what I am fighting. I’m tired, my body is frail and exhausted, I have no hair left and my lips are so chapped that it hurts to kiss my own wife but I will never stop kissing her. So I kiss her through the pain, I wake up everyday to see her gorgeous smile, hear her gorgeous laugh, look at that cute little nose that scrunches in the most adorable way. She has been my lifeline in this battle, but I can't keep up with it all now. I just want my last few weeks to be as peaceful as possible. I wanted to see the world when I was younger, and I have. My world is in front of me. Wanda, you and our family. I will die happy knowing that I have everything I ever needed in life. So yes Nat this is where the battle ends, and I’m sorry if it's not something you wanted to hear but it's my choice and its final.”

“There’s really nothing that can be done?” I bite my bottom lip, Wanda’s hand moving to rest on top of mine giving it a gentle squeeze.

“No, this is it.” I nod looking up to the ceiling blinking my eyes quickly to will the tears away looking back down at the two of them letting out a harsh breath.

“Well we better make these moments worth it.”

♤♡◇♧

I watch carefully, hidden behind the door looking through the small glass window, my body mostly hidden behind the wall so only part of my face is visible. The smiles on their faces are enough to light up the room, the light of the room dancing orbs in their eyes. Y/n’s body leaning against Wanda's, their arms wrapped around her neck as her head rests on her shoulders, her pale complexion and the way her feet drag across the floor telling me everything I need to know.

The sound of the music is muffled but I can take a guess at what they are listening to as Wanda’s hands are set firmly on Y/n’s waist helping to keep her standing. Wanda’s head resting on top of Y/n’s every few seconds her mouth moves, assuming the words being spoken are soft and meaningful as instead of reply Y/n will turn her head to kiss Wanda wherever her lips can reach; which from their position is the top of her shoulder.

The click of the door does not alert them to my presence, and even once I have entered the room they seem to be back in that protective bubble they created all that time ago. Both their eyes closed as they let the room fill with the song, gently entrapping them and keeping them safe from the outside world. I lean my back against the door gently closing it, this time the click of the door bringing Wanda back into this world. Her eyes are brimming with tears but with a smile on her face. She knows what is coming in the next few days, maybe hours, but when you are dancing to the song that played at your wedding no one can help when they are remaining over their best memories.

Y/n doesn’t seem to be aware of my presence as Wanda wraps her arm around Y/n’s back as her other arm reaches out for me, her hand waving me over. I shuffle over to them, grabbing a hold of her hand and wrapping my arm around Y/n who lightly jumps at the contact, her eyes lazily open and a tired smile making its way onto her face when she sees me.

“Hi Tasha.” She mumbles letting her eyes close again as Wanda’s hands move back to her waist and my arms wrap around the both of them resting my head against Y/n’s back. “Rule 171, no crying. Remember.”

“This is your wedding song.” I state into the room as the song starts again, obviously having it play on repeat. “Screw the rules, rules were made for breaking anyway.”

“It is, and they are.” Y/n allows her body to slump against mine more, taking more pressure off of her feet that are still dragging softly around the floor as me and Wanda gently sway all of us side to side and her soft voice fills the room as she lets the tears start to fall again.

Breathe deep, breathe clear

Know that I'm here, know that I'm here

Waiting

Stay strong, stay gold

You don't have to fear, you don't have to fear

Waiting

I'll see you soon, I'll see you soon

I hear Y/n gently humming along, a smile on her face as her hand moves to the side of Wanda’s neck, their thumb brushing against her jaw as we continue to sway.

How could a heart like yours ever love a heart like mine?

How could I live before?

How could I have been so blind?

You opened up my eyes

Sleep sound, sleep tight

Here in my mind, here in my mind

Waiting

Come close, my dear

You don't have to fear, you don't have to fear

Waiting

I'll see you soon, I'll see you soon

How could a heart like yours ever love a heart like mine?

I move my head to look at Y/n her chest gently rising and falling as a light snore passes her lips and I can't help but let out a small chuckle. Wanda notices as well, bending down and easily lifting Y/n bridal style - too easily - and places her gently back in the bed pulling the covers over her. The song continues to play softly in the background as Wanda decides to climb in bed with Y/n, and I take a seat where Wanda would normally sit. I move my hands to hold one of theirs each in mine as Wanda’s eyes never leave Y/n continuing to sing softly to her.

How could I live before?

How could I have been so blind?

You opened up my eyes

Hold fast hope

All your love is all I've ever known

Wanda presses a soft kiss to the top of Y/n’s head before resting hers on their chest and wrapping her arm around their waist. Her hand comes to rest on mine that is holding Y/n’s giving it a small squeeze and my eyes meet hers, both of us with tears in our eyes as Y/n’s breaths become a little more shallow with everyone she takes; slowly falling into a proper sleep. Through the years I never thought that I would have to say goodbye to my friend, or Wanda say goodbye to her wife and no one can truly prepare you for when you say goodbye. But as I watch Wanda singing softly to her wife, a small smile painted on their face even in their sleep I know that even though it was a short life it most definitely has been a good life.

Hold fast hope

All your love is all I've ever known

How could a heart like yours ever love a heart like mine?

How could I live before?

How could I have been so blind?

You opened up my eyes

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x you

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foxnikki · 5 months ago

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hi!! can I please have a mha and jjk romantic matchup ? im pansexual so i have no preference for gender !

in terms of personality, im very optimistic and bubbly. i always try to see the good in ppl and situations, even if ive been wronged or if the situation is scary. im very emotional and empathetic too, so whenever i see ppl cry i also cry 😭 im a hopeless romantic, so i fall for ppl very easily and when i love ppl, i love them very deeply. sometimes im a yapper, but other times i go nonverbal. my friends also describe me as rlly kind and sweet, but also sensitive and super oblivious. whenever ppl like me, i never know unless they or my friends outright tell me that they like me (its rlly bad, i recently discovered that 5 ppl liked me at one point but i had no idea 😭). i tend to put others first and im the friend that ppl go to for advice. i tend to see situations from everyone’s perspective, so id say that im pretty understanding. im also very smiley and i laugh at almost everything, and this is my charming point when it comes to making new friends or leaving a first impression. as nice as i can be, i also say or do out of pocket or unexpected things sometimes. when it comes to dating me, i have rlly bad trust issues and i feel like im hard to love, so id need someone who’s patient and understanding.

my hobbies include crocheting, reading, drawing, playing roblox w my friends, listening to music (my fav artists are lana del rey, mitski, laufey, beabadoobee, ichiko aoba, and lamp!), binging shows, and playing an instrument. also idk if u need this, but i dress very girly but I can’t stick to one aesthetic!! i either dress in the himekaji style (think shoujo mc, like hachi or sawako) or dark coquette (idk if that’s the actual name of the style but think horror game protagonist). thank you so much and im so sorry for how long this is😭

a/n: hope you enjoy this!

You Got...

Izuku Midoriya !

He's sorry when you cry, but he understands that you're empathetic.

When he has a crush on someone he starts to stutter and turns red, so you should understand. At first he wouldn't admit it and I would just keep it to himself, maybe one day he'll get up the courage and tell you.

He may talk for a long time, especially if it is a topic he likes. But if you go nonverbal then it will do the same, since he doesn't know if you want to talk or hear him. Sometimes people need just a bit of silence.

Likes that you're kind.

Also likes the way you smile and laugh.

He is quite a patient person, he will give you the time you need.

Yuji Itadori !

Yuji tries to be as optimistic as possible and he's quite chatty. Have you seen a new movie that came out in theaters? He will definitely tell you about it. And if you want to talk instead then he will listen to you. Over time he became a good listener.

At the beginning, if he sees you crying he will approach you and ask what happened to trigger that emotion, you need to give him some time to make him understand that it is actually empathy towards others. He finds it a very important aspect in a person.

He likes that you are kind, and your smile makes him smile back.

If you say or do something he doesn't expect he'll be surprised at first, but in the end it doesn't bother him too much. He's discovered something new, it seems.

He understands that you need time to trust him, so he doesn't mind waiting. He understands it.

Never tried crocheting but looks interested, maybe you can teach him?

#my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha matchups #mha matchup #izuku midoriya #bnha midoriya #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk matchups #yuji itadori #jjk yuji

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numinousmysteries · 1 year ago

Text

Dancing the Tandava (9/10)

[on Ao3] @today-in-fic

Princeton, New Jersey 1993

On the drive up to Princeton, Scully listens to Mulder and William discuss classic science-fiction movies and their 21st century reboots. She wishes she could share their easy connection but her shock and disbelief intervenes. It feels unfair that William has this intimate knowledge of her as a mother but she knows so little about him. He is the product of her body and years of her nurturing and yet she feels a gap separating herself from him that she can’t quite bridge.

William is intelligent, kind, and curious. He’s soft-spoken and patient, but confident with a sense of humor. He’s exactly the type of young man she’d be proud to have as a son thirty years from now. The DNA test she ordered and reviewed herself proves William is her son and Mulder is his father, which means that at some point in the future, she and Mulder get together. And, since it seems like they’ve been parenting William as a couple, they manage to stay together. It’s a possibility that intrigues and terrifies her.

On the highway, she closes her eyes and tries to imagine Mulder as her husband and William as their grown son. As William describes the expanded universe of Star Wars prequels and sequels to Mulder who peppers him with questions, she can see the three of them naturally easing into these roles. But she and Mulder have never even kissed, let alone done anything that would result in the conception of a child. As much as she finds herself drawn to Mulder, she can’t imagine this single-minded man leaving his quest behind to live a quiet, domestic life.

“Scully, can you believe this?” Mulder asks, calling her back into her body. “George Lucas bastardized the entire metaphysical beauty of the Force with these, what are they called, William?”

“Midi-chlorians,” Williams says from the backseat.

“Midi-chlorians,” Mulder says, shaking his head dismissively. “You sure you want to go back to the future? It sounds pretty grim.”

“It has its ups and downs,” William says. “There’s someone I want to see.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mulder asks, flashing William a grin in the rearview mirror.

“My friend, Hannah. I mentioned her,” William says shyly. “I just miss her I guess.”

Scully peeks in the mirror and sees a blush spreading across William’s cheeks. He may have Mulder’s nose and lanky frame, but with her light coloring he can’t hide his embarrassment any better than she can. She turns to smile at Mulder and finds he’s already giving her a toothy grin. He’s proud of his son, she thinks, and she’s starting to feel pride bubble up within herself.

***

A flash of their badges grants Mulder and Scully access to the building that houses Princeton’s physics department. Scully catches William smiling, clearly impressed by how willingly the building’s security guard yields to his parents’ authority.

As soon as the elevator opens to the floor of Bellona’s office, they hear a man and woman arguing. Mulder raises a hand to hold Scully and William back from stepping forward so they can listen without being noticed.

“This is insane, Samita,” the man shouts. “Why would you want to give up the research you’re passionate about to work for the government on something so secretive they can’t even tell you what it is?”

“That’s exactly why I need to do it,” the woman responds. “This is the cutting edge of quantum research. What I learn on this project could revolutionize the entire field. It could be detecting dark matter, or even finding ways to utilize it. We’re making such small steps now, imagine if we could take a giant leap forward—what we could possibly learn if we had unlimited resources.”

“Resources from the military-industrial complex! You came here to unlock the mysteries of the universe, the origins of why we’re all here. And now you want to leave to work on what’s most likely a weapon that could kill millions?”

Their argument continues but their voices are lower now and Scully can’t hear what they’re saying. She looks to Mulder but he’s just as focused on trying to make out what Bellona and his wife are discussing. Scully wonders what line of questioning they’ll actually take once they get to Bellona. Knowing Mulder, he’ll probably come straight out and ask if he has plans to craft a time machine thirty years from now.

“I’m not going to let you hold me back,” Shah cries out. Her shout is followed by the sound of a door slamming.

Ballona huffs and heads toward them in the hallway. He’s a slight man with dark hair and glasses. As he makes his way to them, Mulder whispers to William, “Is that him?” and William nods.

“Dr. Bellona?” Scully says. “We’re Special Agents Scully and Mulder with the FBI and we have some questions for you.”

“Samita,” Bellona calls back. “Your friends the feds are here!”

With an exasperated sigh, Shah reopens her office door and comes to meet them in the hallway.

“Dr. Samita Shah,” she says, reaching out her hand to Scully. “How can I help you?”

“You don’t know them?” Bellona asks incredulously. “I assumed these were some of your government pals.”

Shah glares at him with ice in her deep brown eyes.

“Are you working on a government project?” Mulder asks.

“I’m considering it,” Shah says guardedly. “I was offered a contract by the department of defense. Are you here on their behalf?”

“No, Dr. Shah,” Scully says. “We’re actually here to speak with your husband.”

“Well, this will be a quick conversation,” Bellona snaps. “No, I’m not interested in collaborating with you.”

“Dr. Shah, do you know the nature of the project you’ve been asked to assist on?” Mulder asks. “Or where you’d be stationed?”

“I haven’t been fully briefed yet, no,” she says. “But I’d be working at Camp Hero on Long Island. It’s an older military base that’s being recommissioned for this project.”

Scully freezes and locks eyes with Mulder. She can see William looking at her wide-eyed in her peripheral vision.

“We need to visit that base,” Mulder says. “Would you be able to get access?”

Shah squints. “I believe I could. Let me make a call.”

She turns around and walks back to her office, leaving Mulder, Scully, and William with Bellona in the hall.

“Dr. Bellona, are you familiar with the Hindu god Shiva?” William asks. Scully looks at him nervously, unsure where he’s going with this.

“You’re better off asking Samita than me. Her family is Hindu,” he says. “But I’m familiar with the broad strokes. Lord Shiva is one of the religion’s three primary deities. He’s known as The Destroyer, but he’s associated with creation as well. You’ll often see him depicted dancing the tandava, a brisk choreography that has the power to create or destroy the universe.”

“I’m sorry,” he pauses. “Who are you? And what does this have to do with me and Samita?”

“Um, my name is William,” he says. “I’m…assisting on this case.” Bellona gives Mulder and Scully a questioning look but they don’t dispute William’s claim, so he goes on. “Is there any connection you can think of between Shiva and your research? Or with the project Dr. Shah is working on?”

“No, not really,” Bellona says. After a pause, he adds, “Well, in a very abstract sense, the tandava mirrors the dynamic movement of particles in quantum mechanics. Heisenberg even said quantum physics will make more sense to those who’ve read the Vedic texts. But, in practice, no, there’s no link.”

“What about if you were working on a particle accelerator? Would it be relevant then?” William continues.

“I suppose you could make the leap to connecting an accelerator’s capability to recreate the original conditions of the universe’s formation to Shiva’s role in the cyclic creation, destruction, and re-creation of the universe, but it’s quite the leap. And even the world’s largest particle accelerators haven’t even been able to confirm, yet alone re-create, the existence of subatomic particles such as the Higgs boson that are essential to that theory. Besides, it would take a real megalomaniac—or someone with nothing to lose—to want that kind of power for himself.”

Someone with nothing to lose. The words echo in Scully’s mind. “Dr. Bellona, could you give my colleagues and I a moment?” she asks.

“Sure,” he says. “I’ll go check on Samita.”

Once the three of them are alone in the hallway, Mulder turns to Scully and asks what’s on her mind.

“William, you mentioned in the car that Bellona and Shah aren’t still married in 2023, right?” she asks.

William nods.

“And have you heard of a Dr. Samita Shah working in the field? She already has an impressive resume and it’s hard to believe that she wouldn’t be leading a world-class quantum mechanics lab thirty years from now.”

“No, I’ve never heard of her. And I do follow this stuff pretty closely,” he says.

“Then I wonder if something happened to her at some point, something terrible that led Bellona to become the very type of megalomaniac he’s describing. With the advantage of an additional thirty years of advancements in the field of quantum physics plus a far more powerful particle accelerator, he could be dangerous.”

Mulder and William both stare at her and she can see them processing her theory.

“So you think Bellona, in 2023, either sees himself as a modern-day Shiva or is trying to harness Shiva’s energy to destroy the world?” Mulder asks tentatively. She realizes it’s typically the type of theory he would posit but the pieces are starting to fall into place. Besides, the results of the DNA test can’t be denied.

“I do,” she replies. “And I think our best hope for stopping him is making sure nothing happens to Dr. Shah.”

“How can we do that?” Mulder asks. “What do you think happened to her?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “It might have to do with William, or Camp Hero. There must be a reason he appeared when and where he did.”

“I think we all need to make a trip to Camp Hero,” Mulder suggests. Scully and William nod in agreement.

They hear a door open and Shah and Bellona return from the office.

“Okay,” Shah says. “I spoke to my contact at Camp Hero and I can go up and meet with them today. I didn’t ask about bringing any visitors, but I can try to get you in.”

Mulder, Scully, and William follow Shah and Bellona downstairs. “Follow us,” Shah says before they separate and head to their cars.

Scully trails behind Mulder and William, watching them walk in step. Nearly equal in height, their strides match and their mannerisms are almost perfectly mirrored. The doubts she had about William’s origin are evaporating, even if she didn’t have concrete DNA evidence to prove his parentage. She’s desperate to know what changes in her life over the next thirty years lead her to becoming the mother of this bright young man—and Mulder’s partner in more ways than one. Learning that information, though, she knows, won’t replace the experience of living through it all. Her only hope of getting to see firsthand what the future holds is to ensure William’s safe passage back to his version of 2023, even if it means having to say goodbye to him now.

***

As Shah’s guests, Mulder, Scully, and William get a much warmer reception at Camp Hero than they did on their first visit. As they drive through the gate behind Shah and Bellona’s car, Mulder smirks at the guard in his post. Scully smiles but keeps her eyes focused in her lap in embarrassment.

They follow Bellona and Shah to a squat, square building next to a taller one that’s capped by the radar dish. The walls of both buildings are tagged with bubbly graffiti letters and it appears as if the site hasn’t been active in years. Except for a few military vehicles, the parking lot is abandoned. Weeds poke through gaps in the pavement.

A uniformed man in his 50s greets them at the door. He’s stocky and solid, built like a refrigerator, with a thick, but neatly trimmed mustache.

“Dr. Shah, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says. “I’m General Jenkins, we spoke on the phone. You’ll have to excuse the desolate atmosphere around here. We’re just starting to get the base up and operational again, but we should have everything you need to begin your work.”

They follow Jenkins through a concrete hallway with a lingering mildew smell. Switch boxes and rusted-over equipment line the walls. Jenkins leads them to an unmarked door that he opens by keying in a four-digit code. Inside are rows of workstations with computers, but no people.

Jenkins guides Bellona and Shah to one of the desktop computers, booting it up to demonstrate something to them while Mulder, Scully, and William survey the scene.

“That’s the door I came through,” William says, pointing to a thick, metal door with a round vault closure at the other end of the room. “There’s a tunnel behind there.”

“The Phoenix III tunnel,” Mulder says. “That must be the entrance to the wormhole.”

Mulder and William glance at Scully, waiting for her to debunk the theory. In light of everything she’s seen, though, and as much as she doesn’t want to admit it, Mulder’s explanation makes more sense than anything else she can think of.

“Any idea how we can reopen the wormhole?” William asks.

“There must be a localized disruption in spacetime,” Scully thinks aloud, trying to reconcile her understanding of the laws of physics with William’s unbelievable appearance. “Two, actually. One here caused by whatever military technology—”

“Extraterrestrial technology,” Mulder interjects.

“—whatever technology they’re using, and one at CERN in 2023 that Dr. Bellona created with the large hadron collider. If they’re both activated at the same time, the wormhole will open and William, or whoever is in the tunnel at that time, will be able to travel between the two locations.”

“Bellona is going to try it again,” William says. “I just remembered he said he was doing a ‘test run,’ so it must have been for another experiment, possibly even a more powerful one.”

“Then we have to get them to activate the time tunnel here,” Mulder adds.

“But how?” William asks.

“Dr. Shah,” Scully says. “They want her to work on this project. She can ask them to demonstrate the technology before she commits.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Mulder says.

They agree it’d be best for Scully, as a scientist, to appeal to Shah and ask if she’ll go along with the plan. She takes a deep breath, then goes to pull Shah away from Bellona and Jenkins. Without explaining her time travel theory—she doesn’t want the other woman to think she’s insane—she manages to convince Shah to request a demonstration from Jenkins.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting to see,” Jenkins says after listening to Shah’s request. “I’ve seen the technicians run the experiment a few times and it just looks like gibberish on a computer screen to me. Of course, we can’t declassify any sensitive information until you’ve signed the necessary paperwork, but if you want to watch a technician press a few buttons on the computer, be my guest. Let me get our technician.”

Jenkins leaves the room and returns a few minutes later with a tall, thin man with a goatee. The man nods at William, who gives him a look of recognition in return.

“You know him?” Scully asks.

“He was here the night I turned up,” he says quietly to her.

“How can I help?” The man asks.

“Whatever experiment you were running the night William appeared, I need you to recreate those exact conditions and repeat the coordinates,” Scully instructs him.

“I just push the buttons,” the goateed man says, resigned, and takes up position at one of the desktop computers.

“And I’ll go in the tunnel,” William says.

“No one goes in there,” Jenkins barks.

“Sir, with all due respect,” the technician says. “I think it’d be in our best interest if he does go. He’s the one I told you about who turned up here the other night? If your concern is maintaining the secrecy of the project, I don’t think you’d want him hanging around.”

Jenkins nods. Scully thinks that it ultimately doesn't matter whether the technician truly cares about William’s return or only in hiding any evidence of time travel. Either way, their only chance of getting William back where he belongs is getting him in that tunnel.

William heads toward the vault door and Scully instinctively walks beside him. Even if she can’t understand or explain how he came to be, she’s suddenly acutely aware that she doesn’t want to lose her son. She feels the need to hold him in her arms and protect him.

When they’re directly in front of the door William turns to her and says, “You have to convince Shah not to work on this project. She has to stay at Princeton or else something will happen to her and it’ll send Bellona down the path to destroy the world in 2023.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” she says.

“Yes, you can, mom,” he insists, taking her hands in his. “Explain to her that she isn’t going to find any answers here. These researchers only want to use her for her abilities and then they’ll dispose of her to keep their work secret. You and dad told me you’ve seen things like this over the years. Shadow government projects with no respect for human life. I have a feeling that’s what’s going on here. She’ll listen to you.”

“I’ll try,” she says, squeezing his hands. Even though his eyes are as blue as her own, she sees so much of Mulder in his gaze—his desire to believe, even in her, and the trust he puts in her.

William lets go of her hands. He twists the vault door open and peers into the darkness.

“Wait,” Scully hears herself say the word before she thinks it.

She feels both William and Mulder’s eyes on her now. Mulder crosses the room to stand beside them.

“What if something goes wrong and you end up not returning to 2023…or never existing at all?” She steps closer to William and grabs onto his hands again. “I don’t want to risk losing you.”

“Mom,” William's voice catches in his throat. “It’s going to work. You figured everything out yourself. I need to get back. I’ll see you…in the future.”

She takes him into her arms and hugs him tight, closing her eyes to allow the smell and feel of him to surround her. Her son is brave and loyal like his father. For the first time since she saw him, she senses a deep bond between them that transcends time and logic. It’s an instinctual love like she’s never felt before. Like a birth she has no recollection of, she feels a physical pain as their bodies separate and she releases him from her hold.

She watches as Mulder hugs him next, knowing the link between them is just as strong. “You’ve got this, buddy,” Mulder says to his son, tapping him on the back before letting him go.

“We’ll see him again one day,” Mulder whispers to Scully, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. His weight feels warm and safe against hers, and she eases into him.

“I can’t wait,” Scully murmurs. Despite her fears, she smiles. Tears stream down her face as William disappears down the tunnel.

#xfiles #txf #xf fanfic #msr #xfiles fanfic #x files #the x files

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