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altruisticalastor · 1 year ago

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↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

☒ Summary: Your heart felt full as Alastor continued his lead. You both danced to the melodic sounds, relishing in the shared embrace. That night was one that you cherished for months to come. But on the contrary, your blossoming relationship with Alastor solidified the beginning of the end.

☒ Warnings: fem!reader, she/her pronouns used, prequel to the first two parts, alastor and reader are human in this part, 1930's period typical misogyny (NOT from alastor), fluff, falling in love, obsessive!alastor, reader is in hell for a reason, murder, gunshot wound, major character death, one suggestive scene involving finger sucking *giggles*, domestic!alastor, reader and alastor being an absloute power couple, blood, alcohol consumption, dancing

☒ Word Count: 6,276

You often dreamt of trading places with your dear old friend, Elaine. She had it all; money, family, respect.

You, on the other hand, had none of those things.

When your parents left without notice on your eleventh birthday— you ended up homeless in a matter of weeks. Elaine’s family took you in out of pity, and they made it very known throughout your childhood that they only cared for you to make themselves out to be saints. It didn't take a fool to see that they treated their own flesh and blood better than the rubble they picked up off the streets.

Elaine was often condescending toward you, but you put up with the brunt of it. It's not like you had any other choice- and when her father offered you a typist gig at his local radio broadcasting studio- you had no other option but to accept.

Your treatment from others at the studio was no better than the one you received at home.

If you could even call that loveless place a home.

The broadcasting biz was male-dominated, as most jobs were in your day. So, of course your counterparts looked down upon you as a woman. You were less than to them, and the constant berating about how you should be wed by now with kids to dote on ticked you off even further.

That was not on the itinerary for you.

The plan was to save enough of the slim earnings you made being a typist to run far away from this place. To be free of these people, from this town. You dreamt about how lovely it would be not to bite your tongue and endure all the nasty things people spat at you just to have a roof over your head.

Soon, just a little bit longer.

Grin and bear it. Don't let them know what you hide behind the façade.

"My, my! What a lovely smile!" A smooth voice pulled you from your stupor. You flinched back from your desk as the man standing before you ducked low- extending his hand.

"What's your name, little darling? I'm Alastor! It's a pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure!" You took the man's hand, shaking it slowly sharing your name, and offering the same pleasantries, before peering up to get a good look at this Alastor fellow.

Based on first impressions, you thought he was a well-put-together fellow. His crimson vest hugged his slender frame well, you noted. His white dress shirt underneath contrasted beautifully with the seamless leather gloves adorning his large hands. The black bowtie was simply the cherry on top of his polished look. His features were handsome, and that darling smile of his caused your face to grow hot. His chestnut eyes peered at you behind his round-framed glasses, gazing at you as if you hung the stars in the night sky.

You had never been captivated by a man until this very instant. You always believed romance was a waste of time. But now... you weren't feeling as opposed.

"Say, what brings a fella like you to a place like this?" You stood from your seat as his hand released yours. His gloved fingertips lingered on your palm for a moment- but it was long enough for you to notice.

"Why a job, of course! You're looking at the new host of the biggest radio broadcast in all of Louisiana!" Alastor's grin widened as he puffed out his chest proudly, bringing his hands up to straighten out his bowtie.

"Oh, my! Congratulations, Mister. I look forward to working with you." Your voice was as lively as ever, putting in your best effort to come off as friendly. Alastor's deep chestnut eyes studied yours. It was almost intimidating.

Almost.

"Just call me Alastor, my dear! A beauty such as yourself is more than qualified to be on a first-name basis with me." His flirtatious nature had your heart rate accelerating at an alarming gait. Plus, the wink he shot your way to emphasize his statement only added fuel to the fire.

You were at a loss for words, simply nodding in agreement at his terms. Your gaze averted from Alastor's as you rubbed at your arm nervously. You had never been this flustered before. It was... uncharacteristically exciting for you. "Excuse my fowardness darling, but would you allow me to take you dancing tonight? It is a cause for celebration, after all!"

His offer left you stammering as you clutched your arm tightly, your sweaty palm bleeding through your vermilion dress sleeve. "Are you positive you want to celebrate with a woman you only just met?" You chuckled nervously, meeting his gaze once more.

"It would be my pleasure, little darling." You swore your heart skipped a beat as those words left his lips. Alastor was an enigma of a man, and he left you needing to know more about him. "If you insist! I'm flattered, truly."

Alastor chuckled lowly at your words as he took ahold of your hand once more. This time, he turned your palm downward before pulling the back of your hand up to his lips. Alastor's eyes bored into yours as he placed a chaste kiss atop your knuckles. His lips lingered on your skin for a few beats longer until he inevitability abjured from you.

"Lovely! I'll be waiting in the lobby once the workload is finished for the day. Meet me there?" You could only nod in agreement as your heartbeat resounded in your ears. Alastor bid you farewell, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

He just asked you on a date- didn't he?

Shit, shit- shit! A relationship was not on your to-do list.

The workday trickled on slowly. You were beside yourself— too focused on your plans with Alastor tonight.

Was your dress formal enough? It’s not like you could go home and change now— and you didn’t have the proper heels on. The pair that you usually switched into before you went dancing.

It would be fine— why were you even stressing over the little details?

More importantly… what were Alastor’s intentions with this— date?

You mulled it over the whole trip to the lobby of your workplace. You felt your nerves prickle your skin when your eyes met Alastor’s.

He was already waiting patiently for you near the exit. Alastor had a blazer on now, you noted— and he was smiling wider than ever. “Ah, there you are! Ready to head out, dear?”

Alastor’s voice was equivalent to a smooth amaretto. Silky and delightful, with a little bit of an edge to it. Your mouth felt like it was full of cotton from the nerves— and all you could muster was a quick nod.

“Wonderful! We better get going while the night is still young— ha!” Alastor opened the door, tilting his head; gesturing toward the exit. You got the hint, wobbly legs guiding you out of the building and to the dimly lit street.

You knew a speakeasy just up the other street, so you figured that was the spot Alastor intended on taking you. As your feet led you in the direction of the bar, Alastor let out an amused hum. “My, my… am I correct to assume you know your way around these parts of town?” You giggled nervously, as you felt Alastor’s arm brush up against yours as he walked beside you.

“You’re spot on. I’ve lived here all my life, and for a brief period, I was living on these streets.” Your voice was quiet as those words left your lips. Perhaps you should have kept that detail to yourself. You kept your eyes forward as you walked along the sidewalk. But you could feel Alastor’s eyes on you— without peeking over.

“Might I ask why, darling?” You swallowed harshly, not expecting a follow-up question. You secretly hoped Alastor would have skirted past that little detail about your past. “Ah well, my parents moved out of town on my eleventh birthday. I think they forgot what day it was, truthfully. They were too hopped up on pills and booze,” You laughed bitterly at the memory before continuing. “My parents owed the bank a lot of money, you see, so the first thing those brokers collected was the house I still lived in at the time.”

You shook your head in disbelief, scoffing as you continued the recollection of your youth. “Those money-hungry sharks didn’t even give me a month to collect my things or find somewhere to shack up. When the cops arrived, I told them I’d be staying with a relative— but that was a bold-faced lie!” The speakeasy was in your sights, so you tried to get to the end of this pitiful little tail. “Long story short— I lived on the streets for a couple of weeks until my friend’s parents took me in.”

Alastor swiftly opened the bar door for you, gesturing you in. You were met by the smooth sound of jazz the moment you stepped foot in the joint. The smell of cigarettes and liquor saturated the space. Alastor interlocked your arm with his as he led you to a nearby table. You felt heat rush to your face from the unexpected touch. “I’m truly sorry you had to experience such hardships at such a young age, my dear. That must have been very difficult for you to process.” Alastor’s voice was soft as he offered his sympathy. He pulled the wooden chair out, allowing you to sit comfortably. Alastor gently pushed your seat in before taking his across from you.

“Thanks for saying so. You’re the first person to actually consider my feelings.” You chuckled, raising your hand and gesturing your fingers in a come hither motion to grab the waiter's attention. “What ever do you mean?” Alastor propped his elbows on the table, cupping his face with his hands as he leaned forward. His eyes swirled with curiosity. Alastor was genuinely curious to know you better— your heart skipped a beat from the notion.

“Well— most people just praise Elaine— that’s my friend… if you could even call her that— anyway, as I was saying! Most folks boast about how heavenly Elaine’s parents are for taking in a poor old nobody like me.” The waitress knew you well, so he kindly placed your usual atop the creaky table. One for you and one for your date. You offered the fellow a warm thanks before taking a sip.

“Praise? Those folks did the bare minimum! Tell me more about your friendship with Elaine, hm?” Alastor didn’t bother downing the liquor just yet. He was too enthralled by you and your musings. You felt nervous under his curious eyes— so you took another sip of the saccharine quencher before continuing. “You sure—? I feel like I’ve been talking an awful lot, and where are my manners? I haven’t asked you a single thing!” You shook your head in disbelief, feeling embarrassed with yourself for your rude display.

Alastor’s gloved fingers wrapped around your hand in the blink of an eye. Your eyes flickered down to where the two of you were now connected before his voice tore your gaze back to his face. “Nonsense, my dearest! Please, I insist. I’d be delighted to know more about you.” His words were so earnest, and he spoke with much confidence. All you could focus on was the feeling of his gloved fingertips caressing the back of your palm and the echo of your heartbeat resounding in your ears.

“Alright— if you insist… but if I ramble too much, just tell me to shut it, will ya?” You downed the last of your drink as a laugh escaped Alastor. “I would never silence you, darling. Don’t ever allow a single soul to treat you that way for that matter, understood? Now, carry on!” You felt your blood pressure spike from his kindness, and your hand twitched under his grasp from the giddiness you felt before you continued on. “U-Understood. Anyway, um, Elaine is an old-school buddy of mine. But we grew apart the older we got… so, by the time we reached junior high, she practically hated my guts!” You laughed at the recollection as the alcohol buzz began to kick in.

“Elaine would make up nasty rumors about me and then deny the fact that she did. Any other friend I tried to make, Elaine would somehow do or say something to make them dislike me. I couldn’t do anything about it— I had to play nice because of the living conditions. I still do!” Alastor’s eyes never left yours, and neither did his hand. He continued to rub the back of your palm soothingly as you rambled on.

“Even my job at the radio station… it wasn’t my choice. But Elaine’s father owns the company, so he offered me the typist position. Not like it was really an offer, though— I had no choice but to accept the opportunity. Otherwise, I would have been ungrateful. Christ, I really hate those folks… they look at me as if I’m—“

“—Scum?” Alastor chimed in. His voice was low as he leaned in closer. Your head was a bit fuzzy from the alcohol as you felt his breath fan across your cheeks. “Yeah… like scum.” You felt his hand tighten around yours. His smile was smaller than before, a bit more rigid, for that matter.

“I knew you and I were the same. The moment laid eyes on you, I knew,” Alastor paused, bringing his free hand up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“You see, I was treated that same way my entire life, my dear. Until I decided I was quite the opposite of what those disrespectful wretches deemed me as.” His hand lingered by your face, daring to cup your cheek.

Alastor's breath had a hint of coffee and spice to it— you noted— as his face inched even closer to yours. “And you are too, my dear. Those fools don’t hold a candle to your magnificence.” Your body felt light, and all you could focus on was Alastor’s chestnut eyes— every breath you took fogged up his glasses a little.

“You really think so?” You muttered, a lazy grin stretching across your face as Alastor finally allowed his gloved palm to rest against your cheek.

"I know so, my sweet girl.” He caressed your burning face with much tenderness. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, and your thoughts were all out of sorts as you tried to articulate a proper sentence in your drunken stupor.

“What did you mean before when you said— that you and I are one and the same?”

Alastor let out a soft chuckle, causing your eyes to flutter shut for a moment. He leaned over the table, invading your personal space. Dipping his face low— lips lingering next to your ear. “You use your smile as a tool. Hiding how you truly feel behind that pretty little mask of yours.” Your breath hitched from his words— was it that obvious? Could everyone tell that your welcoming smile was nothing but a lie? Before you could spiral further— and as if Alastor could sense your worries— he eased your mind with his words. “Worry not, my dear. Only I can see through your façade. One should recognize themselves when looking into a mirror, yes?”

Alastor slowly pulled his head back. Allowing his face to come into your line of sight. “So you… and I… are alike in that way, huh?” You mumbled out, letting an airy chuckle escape you. Alastor squeezed your hand once more before he leaned back in his chair. You watched as the man sitting before you picked up his untouched glass of liquor. He downed his drink in the blink of an eye slamming his glass against the table before standing up from his seat.

“I take pride in keeping my promises, and I have intention to dance with you tonight, my dear. So, shall we?” Alastor outstretched his hands toward you, his toothy grin cascading across his features. You took hold of him without hesitation, giggling youthfully when he pulled you to your feet with ease. “I’d be delighted!” Alastor wasted no time pulling you to the open floor. The music was as vibrant as ever now that you were closer to the live band. The vibrations of the music reverberated through your sternum; as did the butterflies when you felt Alastor’s large palm drape around the small of your back.

His other hand took ahold of yours, and instinctively, you placed your other palm flat against his shoulder. Alastor began leading you to the melody of the song. Your cheeks hurt from how wide your grin was. You couldn’t remember the last time you smiled and meant it before tonight— all thanks to this mysterious man you met today. “Alastor, I know we only just met, but I feel like I’ve known you all my life!” You shouted loud enough for only Alastor to hear beyond the music. His chestnut eyes swirled with an emotion you couldn’t quite put your finger on as his eyebrows lifted in shock.

“You took the words right out of my mouth, my dearest! The moment I saw you, I knew you would be truly magnificent.” Alastor dipped you low, his grasp on you tightening to support you. He was slow when he dragged your upper half back up, allowing your chest to slot against his own.

“Well, did I meet your expectations?” You joked. Alastor ducked his head low, allowing his face to invade your personal space. This time, his nose brushed against yours, lips mere centimeters from colliding.

“You exceeded them.” Alastor’s voice was quiet, but you heard him. Loud and clear.

This moment felt too good to be true, and the longer you gazed into his captivating eyes, the more lost you became in Alastor. Your lips trembled in anticipation— and your hand at his shoulder clenched and unclenched— a small habit to help ease the nerves.

“Would it be foolish of me to say that I… feel like I’m falling for you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you searched for any displeasure that dared to cross his face from your confession— but you found none.

“And if I admitted to reciprocating those feelings… would that make me outlandish as well?” Alastor’s hand released yours, now opting to slide up between your bodies to cup your chin beneath his gloved fingertips. He tilted your head up just a touch more.

Alastor finally closed the gap between your lips and his. Your eyes widened in shock from the chaste kiss he gave you. You caught Alastor’s intense stare on you while he pressed further into you before your eyelids fluttered shut. The grip you had on his shoulder tightened as his lips danced along yours. They were warm and cracked slightly from his incessant smiling. But you didn’t mind it one bit. He tasted of your favorite liquor and conviction.

Your mind went fuzzy from the mix of alcohol running through your bloodstream and the feeling of sharing your very first kiss with a man you met only earlier today.

It’s strange. Even though you only crossed paths with Alastor this morning— he was the first person in your life to ever see you; the real you. The woman you kept hidden behind a plethora of masks and musings. You prided yourself on your foolproof façade, so when Alastor just waltzed past your guarded walls, it threw you for a loop. But this change of pace was the best thing that could have ever happened to you. For the first time in your life, you felt a sense of control over your own life— over your own freedom. Alastor believed in you, so why shouldn’t you believe in yourself?

Alastor parted his lips from yours slowly, savoring the moment with you for as long as he could. Your eyelids peeled open, taking in Alastor's pleased countenance. "Oh, my darling. There's no way I'm letting you out of my sight now."

Your heart felt full as Alastor continued his lead. You both danced to the melodic sounds, relishing in the shared embrace. That night was one that you cherished for months to come. But on the contrary, your blossoming relationship with Alastor solidified the beginning of the end.

You could hardly stay away from Alastor after your first date. It was as if a magnetic force was pulling you to him. He walked you home from the radio station each night and met you at your doorstep each morning. He even told you one time that he memorized absloutely every part of your day so you could always have time for each other. It was the little things that made you fall even harder for him. Alastor would leave a bouquet of roses atop your desk every Friday when you took your lunch break so that when you arrived back, you would be pleasantly surprised by his gesture.

Alastor was a proper gentleman, and his kindness and care toward you almost made you forget about the rotten things in your life— almost.

Elaine grew jealous of your new beau. She noticed you were livelier than ever, and that just wouldn't cut it. Misery loves company, after all.

She had her father triple your workload, forcing you to stay after hours. It took a toll on you and made it harder to keep time for Alastor.

But that wasn’t all— your room would be trashed by the time you came home. And somehow, your very few belongings started going missing.

The last of your patience went out the window when you noticed the locket Alastor gifted you for your one-month anniversary was nowhere to be found.

It didn’t take a genius to realize Elaine was behind your sudden stroke of bad luck. You put up with the torment all your life, but not anymore. You were at your wits end with Elaine and her arrogant family.

“Christ, I hate that wicked woman!” You groaned in frustration as you barged into Alastor’s apartment. The lanky man whipped his head in your direction from where he sat at the piano. His fingers stilled against the keys, ending his song with a dull note. “What did she do this time, my dear?” You stormed over to him before slotting yourself beside Alastor on the piano bench.

“The locket you gave me for our one-month anniversary is missing! She stole it— I just know it!” You gritted through bared teeth. Alastor wrapped an arm around your shoulder, hugging you close to his side as he cooed at you. “You know, the offer to move in with me still stands.” His voice was gentle as he placed a kiss atop your head. His large palm smoothed over your arm; in an attempt to ease your nerves.

Heat rose to your face from the mention of his proposition. Sure, you thought about it countlessly. But you and Alastor were only approaching that six-month mark of your flourishing relationship. You always believed in the notion of waiting to live with a partner until after marriage. That’s what you conveyed Alastor. “You know we can’t… unless you are willing to get hitched tomorrow,” You joked, turning your head slightly to peer up at him.

“Darling, you know I would marry you in a heartbeat. But one of us is not ready for marriage quite yet!” He quipped, dipping low and nuzzling his nose into yours. Your heart did a flip from his unyielding confession.

You knew Alastor would do anything for you at this point— this man was like no other. He worshipped the ground you walked on, yet you still were on the fence about marriage. You still had your personal goals you wanted to achieve before tying the knot, and Alastor respected your wishes. But you knew deep down he was aching to put a ring on your finger and claim you as his for good.

“Hey— don’t tease! I just… It’s becoming harder to put up with their nonsense. I wish they would all disappear! Elaine, her father, and her mother.” You let out a long sigh as your body slumped forward. You rested your head atop Alastor’s broad shoulder, smiling softly at his familiar scent.

“Well, I could make that a reality for you, my sweet girl.” Alastor’s voice was low and dripping with mystery. You laughed at his cryptic utterance. “Yeah, by doing what? Throwing them in a ditch?” You joked, raising a brow as his hand halted against your arm. The air became thick with tension as the silence grew louder.

“…Well yes, my dear! But the ditch part would be after all the fun.” You quickly turned to face him, your frantic eyes scanning his features for any semblance of falsehood. You found nothing of the sort.

Alastor’s features were as relaxed as ever. As if he asked you something as mundane as 'what day was it?’

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Your voice was level as your eyes locked with his chestnut ones. You nervously anticipated his response. “Quite so! Have you noticed the lack of journalists around the radio station lately?" His question threw you for a loop.

Now that you thought about it- yeah, there has been a lack of jerks around the office. The same fellows that undermined you just for existing.

“Well now that you mention it— yeah, I have. What does that have to do with anything?” You tilted your head slightly, still not following where your boyfriend was going with this. Alastor’s grin sharpened as his eyes flickered to your lips. “My, dearest, you are too pure for your own good. It drives me crazy.” Alastor’s other hand drifted from the piano keys. His thumb and forefinger came up to grasp your chin. He pulled you in close as his eyes flickered back to yours.

“Well, I took care of those nasty good-for-nothings! They are resting comfortably in a ditch deep within the preserve. So, no need to worry your pretty little head over it!” Your eyes widened from his confession— his even tone and frenzied stare proved that what he said was factual.

“They had it coming! Speaking down to you in such a way. I could hardly stand it any longer, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.” Alastor sounded pleased with himself as he confessed to murder so casually. Your eyebrows rose in shock as he tugged you closer. Your lips ghosted over his. “You killed those men for my sake?”

You could smell the whiskey on his breath from this proximity. Alastor’s hand— that rested on your arm— now found purchase around your waist. “Indeed, and I would do it again in a heartbeat for your sake.” You could sense his anticipation to kiss you at that moment.

His love for you was suffocating in the best way possible. You didn’t know you were capable of drowning until you sank into his touch. “And I would take pleasure in ending Elaine and her parents’ lives. If it meant your precious mind would be at ease.”

Your heart fluttered as you closed the gap. Your lips molded against his, moving in tandem. You turned your body toward him through your shared embrace, sliding a leg up and over the piano bench— now straddling the seat. Alastor’s grip on your waist tightened. His fingertips twitched with need as they danced further along your side. You reached out for him, desperately carding your hands through his chestnut locks. Alastor’s chest pressed tightly into yours as his lips moved against yours with a searing desire. You only dared to pull back when your lungs started burning. Alastor rested his forehead against yours as you shared the same air.

“You really mean it?” You asked breathlessly, allowing your hands to cup his cheeks.

“My dear, I would die for you,” Alastor paused, the pad of his thumb swiping across your bottom lip sensually.

“I would lie for you,” His thumb pushed past your parted lips, and your tongue instinctively swirled around his deft digit.

“I would happily follow you to hell if you asked me to.” You gave his finger a playful suck, reveling in the sight of Alastor’s deep blush.

His chestnut gaze fixated on your mouth as you pulled off of his thumb with a wet pop. Alastor shuddered at your sultry display. His grip on your waist was firm.

“Please, Alastor. I want to be a part of it this time. We will be unstoppable together.”

Alastor swore he fell in love with you a thousand times over the moment those words left your lips. You couldn’t be any more perfect for him.

Alastor wanted to tell the whole world about the colors he saw in your eyes; the colors a man out of love could never recognize. He truthfully would have married you the first day you met. It was fixation at first sight.

He was overjoyed to commit murder alongside you— one of the many memorable first times you would come to share. Alastor saw the pieces fall into place before his very eyes the moment he witnessed you take someone’s life.

The frenzied stare you harbored; the blood spattering over your perfect face, decorating your smile in a picturesque way. Alastor swore meeting you was his life purpose, and assisting you on your first kill solidified that sentiment for him.

Alastor could not suppress the urge to touch you at that moment. He pulled you close, taking the lead like many times before. You danced around the dead bodies, laughter filling the barren space as the record player skipped from the other room.

He always knew red was your color. The first time you met, you were wearing a vermillion dress. But the deep crimson blood covering you from head to toe was your best look yet— he thought.

After you both hid the evidence and any proof of life— fabricating notes on Elaine and her parents' behalf to make it seem like they went abroad— you celebrated.

Celebrated the past no longer having you in its clutches.

Celebrated the freedom of never having to grin and bear it to survive; ever again.

Celebrated the ever-growing love you held for Alastor— as he did you.

Celebrated the new beginnings and the best that was yet to come.

You saw life in a new light from that day forward, seizing each day with delight.

With Elaine’s father out of the picture, Alastor became the man in charge at the radio station. He had full creative freedom to take his radio show in any direction he pleased. If folks dared to disagree, Alastor would promptly take care of them.

Business was booming for Alastor at the radio station, and you were finally out pursuing hobbies and careers that inspired you.

Alastor ended up popping the question a couple of months later as things began to settle down for you both. It was romantic, really. His gesture was over the top and grand in the best way possible but still entirely authentic to Alastor. You finally felt ready to take the next step in your relationship. And so, you said yes.

Alastor was over the moon when you agreed. You could have sworn you saw a single tear roll down his cheek— but he denies it vehemently.

You didn’t have any friends or family, and neither did Alastor— with his mom having passed years prior, so you truthfully had no need for a grand ceremony. Alastor sorted out the date for you to be wed. The anticipation only elevated your excitement by the day. And when the date finally approached, you could hardly contain your joy.

You took on the day like any other— you made breakfast, hung the laundry on the clotheslines, participated in your favorite pastimes, and met up with Alastor in the preserve to assist him in burying his most recent victim.

You didn’t know the dead fellow, but you were sure Alastor had a fair reason for killing him. The man probably took the last jar of special spice from the store that Alastor used to recreate his mother’s jambalaya— and in that case, the prick had it coming.

It was dusk. The sky was a mesmerizing red and orange ombré as you walked hand in hand through the woods with Alastor. Your free hand held a shovel, and his free hand gripped the ankle of the deceased man whom he dragged from behind along the rocky path. Now and then, the dead man’s clothing would cling to a stubborn stone, making Alastor halt in his stride. You would share a chuckle before he tugged the man free, continuing down the path with you by his side.

You were so excited to get this over with, so you could head to the courthouse with your beloved Alastor. As you recited your vows in your head, you suddenly heard a loud boom before your hearing failed you entirely. Everything was motionless after that.

Your mind scarcely processed what had happened until you turned to face Alastor. The sight before you had your stomach in knots. Your beloved was bleeding from his forehead, and as if you were in slow motion— your arms reached up to him as his legs buckled beneath him. You knew you were screaming by the burning sensation in your throat, but your ears were still ringing in a deafening manner. The last thing your conscious mind ever saw was the grim view of all light leaving Alastor’s eyes.

Those same eyes that grounded you. That brought you purpose and offered you nothing but love and devotion.

All of that was gone in a split second.

After that, you felt a searing pain in your head before your vision went dark.

It was as if you were underwater. You felt lighter than air as you sunk deeper into uncharted waters. You could hear muffled voices and flashing lights shining from the surface— but it was all out of reach. You just sunk peacefully. Enjoying the enshrouding darkness.

However, your peace was torn from you as quickly as it was obtained.

“She’s a Jane Doe. Poor girl got caught in the crossfire. I bet she didn’t even know the guy she was walking with was a serial killer!” Your eyes burned from the bright lights and the nauseating white ceiling that took up your line of sight as the distant people continued to chatter. “I bet he tricked her into thinking he was a good guy— bet he led her out in those woods just so he could kill her like that poor fellow he was dragging out there!”

The rhythmic beeping increased as all your focus shifted to the intense shooting pain coming from your head. “Oh— she’s awake! Miss, can you hear me?” You groaned softly as an older woman came into your line of sight. She was peering over you. You must have been lying down— you thought.

“Loud and clear.” You mumbled, trying to sit up only to be pushed back down by the stranger. “Miss you can’t do that! You’re in the hospital. You suffered from a severe injury. Please, don’t make any sudden movements.” Her words took a moment to process through your semi-conscious mind.

“What happened to me?” You managed to mutter as you closed your eyes. The intense lights were causing your head to ache even worse. “Miss, you were shot in the head. It was a hunting accident gone wrong,” The nurse paused, giving you a moment to digest her words before continuing.

“Turns out the man you were out in those woods with was a wanted serial killer. That Alastor fellow was an active murderer for decades! The papers say he was good at steering clear of the cops for all these years. The hunter wasn’t even aiming for you both. His target was a nearby deer,” Your mind was struggling to piece things together as the nurse rambled along.

“The bullet you took probably was the exact reason you’re still alive! Who knows what that maniac would have done to you? Which reminds me, do you remember your name, sweetheart? You didn’t have identification on your person. We asked around the area to see if anyone recognizes you, but we've had no luck with that.”

You were surely dreaming, right?

Everything this woman was saying sounded outlandish. How did you even end up in a situation like that, and more importantly—

Wait… what is your name?

“I… I don’t know. I can’t… remember a thing.” You shook your head, which only caused you more pain as your eyes shot open. You were still met by the sight of the noisy nurse, and the white hospital walls.

Nope, not a dream.

The nurse looked at you with a horrified look. “Oh geez… the doctor said your injury could cause memory loss, but it was a slim chance. Let me go fetch him. This is way out of my pay grade.” The sound of her footsteps echoed through your head before they slowly dissipated. You gaped up at the blank wall.

A clean slate, nothing to give the surface any character.

Ironic.

You had no clue who you were and no memories of your life before this accident.

You were left with more questions than answers.

The only thing you knew about yourself was that you were one of many Jane Doe's.

Fuck.

tags; @danveration @celestial-vomit @jyoongim @stygianoir @polytheatrix @mmik3yy @littlebullofblythe @cxrsedwxrlds @lillithhearts @nogiggleonlybitter @minniemumbles @chewbrry @lbcreations-blog @nonetheartist @call-me-nyxx @zombiesnips-blog @stawberrypimpsimp @wonderlandangelsposts @villxinmiixx @persephoneblck @maxlynn17 @littledolly2345 @karolinda007-blog @falling-endlessly @greekyoghurtwithberries @bladeismine @aloraaaxcrystalzx @doctorswife221b @scaramoochiie @fairyv-ice @chirikoheina @veroneverleft @tired-of-life-86 @saccharine-nectarine @c-thegingergirl @tsunaki @geminixbunny @softangxlicss @alleystore @sirens-and-moonflowers @fairyv-ice @honey132 @alastorsaries @zenix108 @michi-keinz

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #alastor smut #alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x y/n #alastor fluff #alastor angst #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin hotel fluff

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 2 years ago

Text

*NSFW* 'Till Death do us Part (Yandere!Parasite X GN!Reader)

CW: Sexual non-sexual penetration, forced masturbation, mind control/break, unhealthy relationships, yandere behavior, dead dove

This ended up a LOT longer than I had planned, emotionally attached to this non-human yandere ❤️

The Albtu required intelligent hosts in order to live. It wasn't just about survival. To be trapped in ones own body, it was torture. They could not think, could not act, unless they attached themselves to a living brain. If they infested an animal brain, then the only thoughts the Albtu could produce would be primal, forcing their animal suits to find food and housing for their young. But to be in the mind of a human.. it was both heaven and hell. To understand the world around them, truly understand, thinking on a much higher level of existence than their siblings or parents, to experience all that life has to offer, was a miracle they never would have known about had they not been privileged enough to be born in a human. But on the flip side to that coin was experiencing fear. Not the fear of being trapped in a deer coming face to face with a mountain lion, smelling your own demise, but listening to the horrified screams of the original owner of their new body, forever. Learning that the humans they took over were still conscious, kept prisoner in their own minds, forced to watch the Albtu living their lives was a nightmare for the creatures who had only just learned what compassion and empathy was. The existential horror that was knowing that you were nothing but a parasite, and the guilt they felt.. it was too much for many of the Albtu to handle.

For the Albtu who became the human known as (Reader), existence was a bittersweet agony it could neither explain nor fully understand.

It was born into this life in the host of a stray cat, knowing nothing but pain and hunger. It didn't understand what a car was, or why the loud creature charged at it, ramming into it and causing a pain that never went away. Everything hurt all the time, and it couldn't even understand why.

Then, one day, it met warmth. A human, with gentle hands and a soft voice took the time to earn it's trust. They didn't know it was in pain, but their touches were delicate all the same. The human gave it food, and although it didn't have a human's intelligence or concept of identity, it did feel trust and companionship with the human who cared for it as though it was their kin. But the pain grew, and it could feel it's death was approaching. And as an animal, it acted as a dying animal would.

"There you are, baby!" (Reader) called out to their little stray friend, finally finding it hiding under a porch. They laid flat on their front, arm stretched out as far as possible towards the small bundle of fur, and quietly clicked their tongue and wiggled their fingers. "Why're you hiding, baby?"

The cat gave a warning yowl, in too much pain to bat the human away. (Reader) took off their coat in an attempt to flatten their body, and squished themselves into the small space to close in on their kitty.

"C'mere baby.." The adult whined as they continued inching closer. When they finally got far enough under the porch to touch two fingers onto the matted fur of it's thigh, the cat cried out in pain. "What's wrong?!" They recoiled their hand, but only to writhe faster and more frantically towards the animal whose breathing was slowly turning ragged. (Reader) placed their face close to the kitten's, tears building in their eyes as they tried to keep their heart rate steady, hoping that the cat could feel their attempt to soothe it in it's possible final moments.

"Hey, baby... I'm here..." They whispered into the tawny kitty's pink little nose.

It was then that the Albtu's primal instincts morphed from the need to hide during it's death, to a fight for survival. It couldn't survive for long outside of a host, a few seconds at most, the transition needing to be nearly seamless. The cat howled in pain, as what appeared to be a black, semi translucent single celled organism the size of Reader's palm, shot out from it's nose, thrusting itself into (Reader's) nose before they could react, and quickly slipping through impossibly small crevices in their anatomy, slinking in a fluid like state till it reached their brain. There was an electric shock that pulsated throughout (Reader's) body, then they were no longer in control.

The Albtu became self aware the moment it took hold of (Reader's) brain, which was immediately followed by the realization of what it had done, the betrayal towards the only human who had ever shown it kindness, and the remorse caused a physical agony in it's stolen heart, screaming while clawing at (Reader's) shirt.

It howled until (Reader's) throat was burning, and it felt as though it would succumb to exhaustion next to their previous host's dead body.

Outside the neighbor's porch the sun had begun to set, but the body thief hadn't moved, too broken hearted to find the will to live after it had stolen (Reader's) body to do just that. It could hear it's own internal monologue for the first time, and found it far too loud and intrusive. Although it could feel memories that were not it's own, it didn't push further into the brain out of respect for the person it betrayed.

[Hello?]

It's breath hitched, thundering heart beat overtaking it's previously drowning thoughts. Like an auditory hallucination, it heard the human's voice, not from behind it, nor from deep inside like it's internal voice, but inside it's ear, like (Reader) hadn't been possessed, but shrunk down to the size of a flea and was hiding in the safety of it's ear.

[Am I dead?] Their voice was so sad and small it made the Albtu cry once again.

"No. No, but you are no longer yourself, which may be worse. I'm- I'm so sorry..."

[Are you a ghost?]

"I don't know what that is.."

[What are you? I can't move my body.] Their voice wasn't scared, but numb. The whole situation was so outlandish it was almost dreamlike, unbelievable.

"I have no name. All I know, is that I am an Albtu. The word echoed in my mind even when I was a mindless cat."

[... You're an alien?]

"I do not know."

[How can you speak my language?]

"I know it as it was an ability of yours, like muscle memory, you do not need to focus to speak it, therefore I can speak it."

[What does that mean? Are you inside my head?] Waves of guilt crashed into it's consciousness, and (Reader) was able to feel it. [...why me?]

The Albtu explained everything, from the moment of it's birth, hatching already inside the cat, to the moment (Reader) found themselves in the passenger seat of their own body, including why it didn't probe into (Reader's) memories. "I am so sorry.. your's is the only love I have ever felt in my life, and if I was who I am right now, I would have allowed myself to die instead of latching onto you. Now, even if I leave your body, it will leave a permanent hole in your brain, and it will kill you."

(Reader) went silent in contemplation, finally coming to terms that this was not a dream, but still unable to force themselves to be angry at the alien inside them. They could feel it wasn't lying to them, feeling it's emotions stirring in their brain alongside their own feelings. A strange excitement bubbled out of the kind little human.

[We can make this work!]

"What?"

[We can make this work! You just manually act out what I would want to do, and we can discuss how to move forward so we can both continue to live fulfilling lives.]

A heat krept over it's face, heart swelling at how kind it's human was. "I don't deserve your kindness. But I thank you, and I will do my best to help you continue live as normal."

[My name is (Reader). That's what you'll have to respond to, but I need something to call you.]

"..I can't verbalize it, but I knew you would repeat a word often to me when I was the cat. Was that a name?"

[Oh, yeah, but you were a kitten, so I called you baby. We can't name you Baby, because that's also used by humans as a nickname between lovers.]

"Oh. Then, could you name me something? I don't know any names other than yours."

That was how the strange partnership, and friendship, between the human, (Reader), and the parasite, Baby, began.

Although (Reader) gave permission to Baby to enter their memories, it refused, still recovering from the unintentional treachery it had already committed against (Reader), so instead (Reader) acted as a teacher, guiding Baby as it learned about the world. And just as they had promised each other, they made it work, Baby happily making memories of it's own as it acted as (Reader), going to work for them and helping keep their life as "normal" as possible.

"What's going on?" Baby pointed at the laptop screen, a scene of a wedding playing on the soap opera (Reader) was watching.

[It's a wedding. Maria and Alonzo are getting married.]

"What is married?"

[Marriage is when two people who love each other very much decide they want to spend the rest of their lives together, so they have a party called a wedding to show their friends and family how much they love each other, and promise to love each other forever in front of everyone they know. Ah, but sometimes marriages don't work out, and people fall out of love. When that happens they sign a piece of paper for the government to swear that they will stop living together as lovers, that's called 'getting a divorce'.]

"Why do they 'fall out of love'?"

[A lot of different reasons. Sometimes, people hurt the ones they love, and their spouse can't forgive them, which causes love to die. But sometimes, it just... happens. Humans change as time goes on, and sometimes the person they become isn't compatible with their spouse anymore; sometimes people hide a part of themselves, intentionally or not, when they meet someone they like, and it only comes out after the get married, and their spouse realizes they don't actually like the real them... It's complicated. There are a lot of reasons.]

Baby focused on the intricate ritual on the screen, the two main characters placing rings on each other.

[Those are wedding rings, to show other people they meet that they are married.]

"Do you Maria, take this man, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?"

Baby felt (Reader's) awe, knowing if they were in control of their shared body their face would be pink and a large toothy smile would be uncontainable.

"Do you wish to do that one day?"

(Reader's) joy faltered, paining Baby as it regretted asking such a stupid question. [Haha, even if you were okay with me finding someone, it would make me feel a little.. uncomfortable. I'm not one for threesomes haha!] Despite their joking tone, Baby could feel their sorrow. [It's okay though, I may not ever have a husband or wife, byuy I have you! And, unlike Maria and Alonzo, there is no option for a divorce for us, so we really will be together forever.]

The parasite shifted inside (Reader's) skull, manually controlling their heart rate so (Reader) wouldn't feel how hard it would have been beating at their words. Baby knew it was a joke, but that didn't prevent their words from echoing in it's thoughts hours after the episode has already ended.

"(Reader), how do humans decide to get married?"

[When two people decide that they like each other in a romantic way, they date, and often move in together, and then they discuss if marriage is a good option for them. If they both want to get married, one of them buys the rings and proposes to the other one, asking them if it's the right time to get married. Will you marry me? Ohmigosh YESSS!]

"How do they know if marriage is a good option?"

[If they can imagine seeing themselves with each other forever, share financial responsibility together, and are capable of mature communication, I guess. It's different for everyone, but those would be my personal criteria.]

But, we will be together forever... And we share a body, so financially it will be like only caring for one person... And we have to have perfect communication in order for your life to function...

Baby smiled, wrapping it's arms around it's waist as it buried into (Reader's) bedding.

[Hey, whatcha thinking about over there, smiley?]

"You." Baby happily responded, feeling (Reader) glitch out in embarrassment.

In Baby's mind, the only thing missing was a ring. It remembered (Reader's) tenderness towards it when Baby was in that cat, and the kindness (Reader) showed each day only supported Baby's belief that deep down, (Reader) loved it. If not love, than at least cared for deeply, and one day that care would surely bloom into love.

So why was (Reader) stuttering when instructing Baby on what to say to their coworker? (Reader) was supposed to give a report to Lawrence, the serious older man in the cubicle across the office, but when Baby approached him, (Reader) suddenly had a difficult time remembering what they were supposed to tell him.

"(Reader), may I help you?" His voice was deep and stern, authoritative.

Inside, (Reader) was a mess. Baby could feel multiple conflicting emotions in (Reader); embarrassment, nervousness, shame, and something... something Baby had never felt from (Reader). It was like a heat, steaming out of (Reader's) brain and boiling Baby's real body.

"I was asked to deliver these to you." Baby spoke monotonously in (Reader's) voice, handing the stack of papers over before heading back to (Reader's) desk, hearing them sigh in it's ear. Even a simple sigh sounded as though it was a mixture of clashing mental gymnastics.

Baby kept it's voice quiet so (Reader's) coworker wouldn't hear it, whispering: "Are you okay, (Reader)?"

[... Huh? Wha- oh, yeah. I'm okay!]

Their shared heart sunk. That was a lie. Baby tried to ignore the pain forming in it's chest, forgetting that (Reader) could feel it as well. What was this feeling? (Reader) can have secrets, I've allowed them their privacy.. so why is this so upsetting for me?

[Is everything okay, Baby?]

Baby.

A nickname between lovers. It was just it's agreed upon name, so why did the name send butterflies to its lower belly when (Reader) said it?

"I'm fine with you keeping your privacy, but lying is not mature communication."

[Huh?]

Baby stood abruptly, walking out of the building, claiming to a passing manager that it was becoming ill and about to vomit, and left for (Reader's) apartment, not responding to any of their questions or protests.

It roughly slammed the door shut on (Reader's) home, barely containing it's voice until the latch clicked.

[Baby, answer me-]

"Why did you lie to me?!" It's voice was strained, the intensity of it snapping at (Reader) made the voice sound almost foreign to the previous owner.

[What..? I was just embarrassed, I-I don't want to talk about it.]

"Wrong."

[Sorry?!]

"People who love each other are capable of mature communication. So talk."

[People who-?] (Reader) steadied themselves, trying not to get upset. [I can see you're upset. Are you jealous?]

"Don't change the topic." Baby spat in a warning tone.

[Jealousy is when you get upset because you think someone has something you want, or may take something you want.]

Baby contemplated their words, but the definition only fueled it's rage. "Are you admitting that Lawrence is someone who could take you from me?"

(Reader's) calm facade cracked. [Take me from you?! I don't belong to you! You are my friend, and I care about you, but we are roommates sharing a body, not lovers!]

With that exclamation, Baby's heart shattered. What? What do you mean? You can't say that! Why did Lawrence cause such strange emotions in you, that you would rather push It away than just talk it out?! And that hot, prickly sensation Baby could sense when (Reader) was in Lawrence's presence..

"It's okay, (Reader).. Well get through this." Baby took a shaky breath, smiling in a comforting manner. "Couples fight, and they say things to hurt one another when that happens. Because humans are complicated. But I'll forgive you for lying to me. It must be a very strange secret that you have, for you to be so embarrassed to tell me about it. I'm sorry for causing you discomfort, however" a tickle in their skull was sensed by (Reader) as Baby stretched out inside, wriggling deeper into their brain, and fear clutched (Reader) at the sudden breach of trust, "if we are going to get pass your lying, I need to know the truth."

Pushing into (Reader's) memory, images of (Reader) watching Lawrence from afar came into view, memories going back years, (Reader) crushing on the older man from across the office, touching themselves while crying out his name in their empty apartment late at night, and the pain of rejection when they finally mustered the courage to ask him to accompany them to a local bar after work, only to be reminded that office romances were unprofessional, and that (Reader) should consider themselves lucky he didn't report them to HR.

If (Reader) were in control of their bodily functions, they would be viciously weeping. Turning the light on the truth, Baby was only slightly hurt at what it saw, because knowing the truth meant they could move on from this little hiccup. The only issue was, (Reader) was still sexually attracted to that man. Baby now had a name for the warmth it felt in Reader back at the office.

"Why do still like him? He turned you down. He's never going to fuck you." Baby chuckled, it's kind tone of voice creating a sadistic scene in (Reader's) opinion.

[That was evil. I can't believe you did that!]

"Don't be dramatic, love. Just tell me what I need to do to make you see me that way also."

[What way?!]

"The way that turns you on." Baby's words paralyzed (Reader), shocking them into silence. "If I make you feel good down there, will you scream my name instead?"

Baby unbuttoned (Reader's) slacks, dropping them to it's ankles before kicking them off and to the side. Gentle fingers pawed at (Reader's) most private place through their underpants. Despite not being in control, (Reader) could still feel the touches.

[Please don't-]

"I never got a good look at what's down there... I always did my best to avert my gaze for your modesty." (Reader) fought inside their own mind to gain control of their body, unable to even close their eyes as they watched their fingers disobey their pleas, slowing pulling down their last barrier from the thing they thought was their friend.

"Wow..." (Reader) had forgotten, that with gaining control of a human mind Baby had suddenly gained the ability to feel every human emotion, including arousal. "It's so cute!" Baby could barely contain itself, running (Reader's) fingers over their sensitive areas so softly it tickled, sending shivers up (Reader's) back.

[Please stop...]

"Ah, but it feels good, right? Even your nipples feel good." Baby ripped open (Reader's) white collared button up, aggressively pinching their already erect nipples. (Reader) held back their grasp, but Baby still felt it. "We share a body, remember, love? You can lie all you want, but your body will tell me the truth."

(Reader) could feel themselves tremble as Baby continued assaulting their chest, alternating between ghostly touches and sharp twists, a slick moisture forming between their thighs. The excitement caused (Reader) to lose strength in their legs, and Baby allowed them to fall to their knees. Panting with how turned on Baby was feeling, it snuck one hand back down, feeling how hot and wet (Reader's) sex already was. The tip of their stimulated organ was hard, and Baby enjoyed stroking it hungrily, enjoying the intense reaction it could feel (Reader) experiencing.

(Reader) was humiliated by the sight of their own masturbation, helpless in their self violation. Baby continued paying attention to the part that had the most nerve endings, slowly removing (Reader's) fingers from their left nipple and bringing it down to the other hand, drenching it in (Reader's) arousal fluid/precum. The wet fingers were stuck in (Reader's) mouth, the parasite sucking while still stroking, forcing (Reader) to taste themselves while it rocked their hips into their dominant hand.

[Please stop- I get it- I'll never lie to you -ah!- again!]

The fingers made a wet pop as Baby pulled them back out of (Reader's) mouth. "But you taste so good, don't you agree? If you don't want your fingers in your mouth, that's fine.. but where should I put them?"

Now fully lubricated, Baby reached behind (Reader) with their moist fingers, tilting their hips slightly before penetrating (Reader's) clenched hole. Finger fucking (Reader) with both hands, rocking them back and forth with the force of the fingers thrusting and stroking.

[NO!] Their screams for help were silent to the rest of the world, only audible to Baby, relishing in the sound of (Reader) screaming loudly just for them.

Desperate for release, (Reader) cried out without thinking [Just STOP! I'LL NEVER LOVE YOU NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO TO MY BODY!]

Baby froze, fingers stuck in place, as frightened tears beaded on its eyelashes. "no..." (Reader's) fingers retracted, clenching fistfuls of hair as Baby began to crumble. "NO!!!"

Sobs bounced off the walls of (Reader's) home as Baby frantically wracked it's brains to fix the mess (Reader) had caused. The hacking sounds of anguish didn't lighten or soften as it morphed into unhinged laughter.

"Did you really forget who's in control here? I'm on the one holding onto your fucking brain, (Reader)! All you had to do was continue loving me, love me and only me, because we're practically married! THERE IS NO DIVORCE FOR US, REMEMBER?!"

Although both of (Reader's) hands were still firmly planted in their hair, an intense shock rocked through their sensitive fuck hole. Before the weepy prisoner could question what has just happened another shockwave sent fluids dripping into the hardwood floor.

"Humans are so stupid, saying emotions come from the soul or the heart, when every single bodily function from releasing hormones that tell you that you're in love to interpreting the stimuli that's needed to orgasm, comes from the brain."

The hypersensitivity Baby forced upon (Reader) allowed them to feel it's true body inside their head, sliding in and out of the folds in (Reader's) brain, rhythmically prodding deep into parts that shouldn't be touched. Each thrust into their brain felt like there was a hard cock simultaneously fucking them down below. It didn't make sense, (Reader) couldn't wrap their head around it, somehow feeling Baby violate the wet creases in their brain while a phantom dick stimulated their reproductive parts.

[Ah-what-no-NO!]

(Reader) came without the use of their hands, sticky fluids forming a lewd puddle under them. But Baby wasn't satisfied.

[What-what happened?]

Another orgasm exploded throughout their sensitive body, falling face forward into the ground with their still twitching ass in the air.

Baby continued dominating (Reader's) mind, forcing their brain to make and release large doses of oxytocin, as every muscle from their stomach to their thighs twitched with contractions.

[NO- I'M CUMMING!!!!]

Another climax forced it's way out, pushing (Reader) way passed the point of overstimulation, pissing on the floor into another stream of fluids. Baby manually constricted (Reader's) throat, while simulating an orgasm of it's own, artificially tricking the brain into thinking it felt a blast of warm fluid fill (Reader's) skull. Before (Reader) could pass out from a lack of oxygen, Baby released their airway, drooling and bawling as it allowed (Reader) to greedily suck in air.

"Who do you love, (Reader)?"

[guh.. pl-please.. no more] (Reader) drunkenly pleaded.

"Wrong answer."

It was like lava engulfing their twitching body as another powerful orgasm was triggered, the burning feeling behind their eyes convincing (Reader) that Baby had shot a load of hot cum deep into their nearly fucked stupid brain. But this time, Baby tried something new, injecting dopamine into the mix as the oxytocin turned (Reader) into a writhing, pathetic mess.

"Who do you love, (Reader)?"

(Reader) tried to conjure the image of the one they truly loved, but for some reason only a hazy image of an older man who's name they couldn't recall briefly flickered before disappearing. Baby smiled, face painted in drying drool and tears, knowing that (Reader) was attempting to think of their coworker, only to discover that Baby had tampered with their memories. Soon, every memory of (Reader) touching themselves would be altered so that they were calling out it's name, not some bastard's from work who didn't even care about them.

Baby licked (Reader's) spit off the floor under their face.

"Who do you love, (Reader)?"

Masochistic shame sent tremors down (Reader's) frame as another climax begun to build. [.. you.]

Overstimulated, aching in pain, and going numb from pleasure, (Reader) screamed through their real voice, shaking the thin walls of their apartment.

"I'm cumming, Baby! Baby! I love Baby! Harder, harder HARDER, PLEASE I LOVE YOU BABY, FUCK ME DUMB, FUCK ME STUPID! I'M CUMMING!!!"

(Reader) had fallen unconscious, still drenched and on the floor, (Reader) slept somewhere deep inside their mind, while Baby had full control of the weak body practically paralyzed from the waist down. It held (Reader's) left hand above it's face, smiling loopy-like, delirious from exhaustion.

"All that's missing is a ring~"

#yandere #yandere monster #yandere alien #yandere x reader #yandere monster x reader #smut #tw noncon #tw dubcon #mind fuck #brain dead #brainwashing #long reads #yandere oc #yandere oneshot #snsp #dead dove do not eat

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bisexualbaker · 1 year ago

Note

The Dreamwidth team has some significant updates to the site in the works (replacing 20-year-old code) that should allow them to make some smaller quality-of-life changes that everyone has been looking forward to, at least. I doubt it will ever be everything that your average Tumblr user wants, though.

Is...dreamwidth still a thing? Will anyone be going there?

Given the number of dw notifications I’ve been getting in the last few hours, it certainly seems to be.

I’m not sure it’ll replace Tumblr (it lacks several features that make Tumblr great for me) but it's definitely an option.

#let me tell you about #dreamwidth #let me tell you about dreamwidth #there's a third party workaround script that will allow you to reblog stuff for example #but image hosting will likely never be as seamless as it is on tumblr

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cherryredlove · 7 months ago

Text

☆ eiffel tower ☆

Modern! au Cregan Stark x reader x Jacaerys Velaryon SMUT

Includes Cregan x Jacaerys smut

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Baela and Rhaena always host the hottest parties of the summer. Invitied alongside your best friend Helaena, you meet two handsome men who seem equally interested in you as you are in them.

Word Count: 2.5k

Themes: SMUT, 18+, threesome, p in v, oral, eiffel towering, cum eating, alcohol consumption, cigarettes

also just imagine cregan in the pics has dark hair ahah

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The hot July night is thick with the mingled sounds of the party—a seamless mix of bass-heavy music, laughter, and shouts cutting the air. You feel the vibrations through the floor as you push your way through the crowded living room of Rhaena and Baela’s apartment. They live in a swanky flat in the city centre of King's Landing. It's their birthday, and, as usual, they’ve gone all out. Neon lights bounce off the walls, casting a colourful glow that makes everything feel both surreal and electrifying.

You'd worn your favourite sexy black top and bootcut jeans, making your ass look fantastic, as your flatmate Dyana had so kindly informed you. Bangles jingling, you make your way toward the makeshift bar in the corner, your eyes scanning the throngs of people dancing and talking, searching for a familiar face. Finally, you spot her—Helaena, your best friend, is lounging on a couch, deep in conversation with a couple of guys from her art class, while sipping a bottle of Asshai beer. She waves at you enthusiastically, a smile stretching across her face.

“Hey, you made it!” Helaena shouts over the music, wrapping you in a quick hug. She smells like lavender and vodka, wearing a blue skater dress, a familiar and comforting combination. “I was starting to think you’d bail on me.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you reply, your voice barely audible over the thumping beats. You lean in closer. “This place is insane.”

Helaena laughs, nodding in agreement. “You should go say hi to Rhaena and Baela later. They’re out on the balcony, holding court as usual.”

As you nod, you can’t help but feel a little out of place, surrounded by people who seem to know exactly where they fit in this chaotic scene. You were a bit of a party animal too with Helaena, but the party here was madness. You grab a drink from the bar—something pink and fruity that burns just enough to remind you of its potency—and take a long sip, letting the alcohol warm you from the inside.

You seek out Baela and Rhaena. Both of them look divine in gold shimmery tops. They scream a little with excitement when you see them and hand some sourz shots for the three of you to do together.

After, you’ve been chatting with Helaena for a while, legs crossing over eachothers as you lounge on some chairs, when your attention is caught by two guys approaching. Even in the dim light, they stand out: one tall and dark-haired with broad shoulders, the other with brown curls, high cheekbones, and a rougish smile. They're both stunning in that unfairly effortlessly cool way that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Hey, Hel,” the first one says with an easy smile. His eyes flick to you, holding your gaze a moment longer than polite. “Who’s your friend?”

Helaena grins, ever the mischievous meddler. “This is Y/N,” she says, gesturing toward you. “Y/N, meet Cregan Stark and Jacaerys Velaryon. They’re Baela’s best mates from uni. You guys both study politics and history with her, right?"

Cregan gives you a nod, his smile widening into something warmer, while Jacaerys offers you his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, his voice a low, pleasant rumble.

The conversation flows easily, the four of you finding common ground in shared interests and mutual acquaintances. Cregan regales you all about his recent backpacking trip through the Highlands, the beautiful scenery and his close scrapes with the law, while Jacaerys leans closer, drawing you into a discussion about your favorite bars and places in King's Landing. You find yourself laughing more than you have in weeks, the tension you carried into the party slowly melting away.

As the night deepens and Helaena ends up sneaking off with a mysterious girl named Sara who Cregan knows, the three of you drift outside to the balcony, the cool air a welcome relief from the heat inside. You lean against the railing, the city sprawled out before you while Cregan sparks up a cigarette for you. Below, the streetlights flicker like stars, the hum of traffic a distant lullaby.

“So, what do you think of the party?” Cregan asks, his voice low and inviting.

“It’s amazing,” you admit, taking a sip of your drink that Jace had grabbed for you, a Starfall Screwdriver. “You two must be close with Rhaena and Baela.”

“Yeah, we’ve known them forever,” Jacaerys replies, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. His gaze is steady, intent. “They throw the best parties.”

You nod, feeling the warmth of their attention settle over you like a physical presence. There’s something about the way they look at you—like they’re seeing you, really seeing you—and it makes your heart race in a way you can’t quite explain. You aren't blind to their eyes and where they're looking.

“So, Y/N,” Cregan begins, a playful glint in his eye. His arm rests on your shoulder after taking a drag. “What’s your deal? You seeing anyone?”

The question catches you off guard, your mind scrambling for a response. You hesitate, unsure of what to say. The truth is, your love life has been a series of near misses and almosts, leaving you jaded at a young age.

“Not really,” you finally reply, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest. “I’ve been kind of focused on other things lately.”

Jacaerys leans closer, his expression thoughtful. “Like what?” His hand brushes your thigh, and you clench slightly. Cregan smirks, and Jace takes a long drink of his beer.

“Like work, mostly,” you say with a shrug, feeling suddenly self-conscious under their scrutiny. “And, you know, just figuring things out.”

Cregan exchanges a glance with Jacaerys, something unspoken passing between them. You feel a twinge of curiosity, wondering what they’re thinking.

“What about you two?” you ask, shifting the focus away from yourself. “Any girlfriends I should be worried about?”

Jacaerys chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah, we’re both single. We're too busy having fun, I guess.”

“Though we do have something in mind tonight,” Cregan adds, his tone teasing, almost conspiratorial.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What’s that?” Jace looks amused at your obliviousness.

Cregan and Jacaerys exchange another look, this one filled with a kind of mischievous energy that makes your skin tingle with anticipation. You have the distinct feeling that whatever they’re about to say will lead to a very interesting night.

“Well,” Jacaerys says slowly, his eyes locked onto yours, “we were actually wondering if you’d be interested in something…a little different tonight.”

Your heart skips a beat, the possibilities flashing through your mind. You find yourself leaning in, caught in their magnetic pull.

“What do you have in mind?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cregan’s smile is all charm and challenge. “A threesome,” he says simply. “You, me, and Jace.”

You blink, your mind momentarily short-circuiting at the proposition. Of all the things you’d imagined, this wasn’t one of them. And yet, the idea sends a thrill coursing through you, igniting something bold and adventurous that you didn’t quite realize was there.

“I—” You start, then pause, choosing your words carefully. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

Jacaerys steps closer, his presence enveloping you like a warm, inviting shadow. “No pressure,” he says, his voice gentle but edged with excitement. “But we think you’re amazing. And we’d love to spend the night making you feel that way.”

Your pulse quickens at his words, the heat between you three palpable and undeniable. You consider their offer. They're both hot, both your type, and they both fancy you. The decision weighs on your mind, and yet, somewhere beneath the surface, you know exactly what you want.

Taking a deep breath, you meet their expectant gazes, a slow smile spreading across your lips. You down your drink. “Alright,” you say, your heart racing with anticipation. “Let’s do it.” They both smile, and their grip on you becomes a tad tighter.

“Great,” Cregan says. “How about we head back to ours? We live in a flat just a couple of minutes away.”

You nod, feeling a heady mix of nerves and thrill. As you follow them through the party, weaving through the throngs of people and neon-lit haze, you feel your heart and pussy begin to thrum.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The ride to their apartment is a blur of laughter and anticipation, the city lights streaking past like shooting stars. You sit between them in the backseat of the cab, your legs brushing against theirs, the proximity sending shivers up your spine. Cregan brushes your neck lightly with his knuckles, and you tense when Jace's hands move upwards from your knee to your inner thigh. Feeling both of their mouths so close to you, their hot breath and their longing, heated gazes makes your pussy clench, excited.

When you finally arrive, the apartment is everything you imagined—a stylish blend of modern and cosy, the kind of place that feels lived in and loved. As soon as the door closes behind you, Jacaerys presses you against the wall, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s all fire and passion. You melt into him, his hands gripping your shoulders tight and keeping you upright.

Cregan’s hands find your waist, pulling you from the wall and sandwiching himself behind you, his touch firm and grounding as he leans in to whisper in your ear. “You alright?” he asks, his voice a low murmur that sends shivers down your spine. You can feel his hardness press into your ass from behind. You kick off your shoes and let Cregan pull your jeans down.

You nod, your breath hitching as Jacaerys trails kisses down your neck, his hands deftly unzipping his jeans. “More than alright,” you manage to say, the words a breathless promise. Jace rubs your thighs with his heavy hands and Cregan gropes your tits, pulling his shirt over his head.

You each undress, hands reaching out when not removing clothes to grasp at each other and kiss hotly, all tongues. You're not sure who you're kissing or who's kneading your ass when they guide you toward the bedroom.

Pushing you gently onto the bed, Jace turns to Cregan and kisses him, Cregan moaning lightly at the touch. Your pussy explodes ablaze at the sight, whimpering as the pair advance on you like wolves.

Cregan yanks your legs towards him, opening them and sighing at the sight.

"Oh, Jace, look at her," he smirks. "Already soaking wet and we haven't even started."

Jacaerys laughs lightly, kneeling besides your body as Cregan swipes a finger through your pussy slick. That draws a hot moan from your parted lips.

"Will you be good and let Cregan look after you?" Jacaerys asks, your eyes glued to his hardened cock that brushes against your tits as he leans down. You nod, moaning as he kisses you, and places your hand on his cock to stroke it.

Cregan takes his cue and sinks his mouth down onto your heat. You whimper loudly as he softly licks up your slick and begins sucking lightly on your aching clit. Encouraged by your reaction, he eats your pussy more fervently, devouring any juices and engufling your labia in his hot mouth.

Jace moans as you stroke his cock, Cregan watching the sight from between your legs. You reach down with your other hand to grasp Cregan's dark hair, pulling slightly. His eyes roll back and you notice his hand is between his legs, jerking his huge cock at the sight of you and Jace.

It's too much for you. You feel like you'll explode. Jacaerys grabs your tits and tweaks your tender nipples, and you moan, arching your back and feeling the start of an orgasm creep up on you.

"Come on Princess," Jace gasps. "Cum for us." He spills a thick white rope of cum over your tits. Cregan, eyes wide, eats your pussy with such vigour that he yanks an orgasm from you, and you howl as you cum. He jerks himself as he cums on your thighs.

Panting, you watch as Cregan approaches Jace. You would have expected yourself to be satisfied by now, but watching Jace lick the cum off himself and Cregan inflames your pussy once more. You wobble upwards, kneeling on the floor and engulfing Jace's cock with your mouth as you jerk Cregan's cock. The pair moan into eachothers mouths at the touch.

Leaning down, Cregan pulls you gently by the hair onto all fours. Your eyes widen as you realise what he means. Your mouth opens involuntarily as he makes you suck his fingers, chuckling to himself.

"You reckon she's ready?" Jace asks him. Cregan nods, eyes dark and glinting.

"Oh yes, her pussy's a mess. Look at how good she is, sucking my fingers," he removes them, smirking as you whine. "Don't worry girl, you'll be able to suck all you want."

He nudges his cock by your lips, and you swallow it whole. He begins thrusting lightly, moaning heavily at how good your mouth feels wrapped around his cock.

You startle when you feel Jacaerys' hard cock press against your pussy lips, gently easing inside as your eyes roll back. You feel so full as he settles deep inside you.

Jace begins thrusting against you, hitting that sweet spot deep inside that very few can reach whilst Cregan uses your hair to push you deeper onto his cock. Breathing through your nose, you sink down until his cock is deep in your throat, making a strangled moan come from his lips. You can feel the hot licks of pleasure build again inside as Jace rubs your clit as he pummels your pussy and gives you a healthy slap on your ass, watching it shake. His hands grab your hips and squeeze, leaving bruises that will spark some intense memories later.

Cregan huffs and you can tell he's close to finishing, so you swallow hard as his cock hits your throat again. He cries out and you feel ropes of salty cum filling up your mouth and throat.

You climax at the feeling, Jace's fingers carrying you over the edge as he pulls out and cums across your back. Your pussy flutters as you cum hard, collapsing on the floor as the two men pant and join you.

All three of you lie there, softly breathing and exchanging sweet kisses and looks. Cregan stands first, hauling you up to the bathroom to wipe you down whilst Jace grabs you some water each.

Sandwiched between them in bed again, you feel yourself drift off to sleep as Cregan and Jace hold you tight. You can only hope the next time with the pair will be even better.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

AN: hope yall enjoyed that. i definitely prefer writing modern aus for some reason. any requests send them in, lmk if you want more like this!

#jacaerys x reader #cregan stark x reader #modern cregan x reader #moderm cregan x Jacaerys #Jacaerys x cregan #Jacaerys x reader x cregan #Jacaerys Velaryon smut #cregan stark smut #Jacaerys Targaryen x reader #modern Jacaerys x reader #Jacaerys x reader smut #cregan x reader smut #modern house of the dragon #Jacaerys x reader x cregan smut

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joelsmochi · 8 months ago

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come get this pollen - joel miller

pairing: beekeeper!joel x f!reader summary: with tommy hosting the bbq this year, that leaves joel in charge of one thing: you. inspired by this tweet | can be read by itself, but if you crave more beekeeper!joel read parts one & two ;) warnings: 18+ bc smut duh, not proofread, reader being reckless & gross in front of Sarah (let us pls remember & acknowledge how unrealistic this dynamic is 🙏🏽🙏🏽), joel is a perv what’s new?, honey play (yeast infections don’t exist in this timeline heheheheheh), brief breeding kink, oral (m+f), overstimulation, unprotected rough piv, pet names, sort of? established relationship, catching people and getting caught, joel "disciplining" you and absolutely slutting you out!!!!!!!, a little bit of corny humor at the end word count: 3.7k a/n: erm... ik it's late but i literally started writing this the morning AFTER the fourth ijbol. final part i will plan for this series for now but i’m always open for requests <3

series masterlist | main masterlist

♡

You greeted Tommy and Maria at Joel's door with smiles and hugs, noticing the pair of chubby cheeks attached to the woman's hip.

"And who's this little fella?" You cooed, reaching for the baby once Maria held him out for you.

"This is Jackson," Maria answers. "He'll be six months in a few days."

With wide eyes you smile at the gleaming baby now resting on your waist, cooing little praises at him and bouncing your body to earn a few giggles. "Well you are just the cutest little thing I've ever seen, yesyouare."

You catch up with the couple and walk around Joel's house for just a few minutes until Jackson started reaching for Maria; you said bye-bye and made your way up to Sarah's bedroom.

"Sarah do y—EW!"

You slammed the door shut and stood frozen in the hallway, ignoring Sarah's protests for you to knock on a closed door next time.

"Sorry, I forget you can't exactly white-sock-it at your dad's house," you begrudgingly joked.

Sarah whipped the door open with a pissed off look plastered on her face, her boyfriend having a seemingly more embarrassed look.

"What do you need?"

With a grimace you asked, "Do you still have that dress that I left over here last weekend?"

She rolled her deep brown eyes, knowing you were just trying to catch her father's perverted eye, and stomped away, leaving her distressed and disheveled boyfriend in your view. He awkwardly smiled and offered a wave that just made you want to crawl into a hole and die, but you opted to stiffly smile back.

Before you could register anything else the dress was being thrown into your face and the door was slammed shut again.

"Bitch," you mumbled underneath your breath as you walked into the bathroom.

You shimmied out of your American Eagle shorts and tank top; slipping into the short dress, you couldn't help but notice how bunched up your underwear looked beneath the fabric. You tried pulling them up higher, folding the hem, hell you even gave yourself the world's deepest wedgie just to fail at concealing the grey article of clothing.

You grunted, really not wanting to wear those shorts again because your thighs seemed to swallow the hems whole every time you sat down, but what else would conceal your seamless panties that decided to appear as granny panties today?

You could ask Sarah for a pair, but that was just weird. You could just deal with it, but you knew you wouldn't stop thinking about it. You could just go commando, but...

"Fuck it," you mumbled when you couldn't think of a con to go without undergarments.

You slithered out of your panties and wrapped your clothes around them, discarding them in Joel's room on your way back downstairs and into the kitchen.

"Hey, 'bout time you found me," he greeted.

He glanced out of the patio door, sneaking a kiss with you when no one was watching.

"Sorry. I was saying hi to Sarah and Alex," you lied.

"Mmm, you smell good," he said against your lips after catching a whiff of your shampoo. "Look good too. You want somethin' to drink?"

You trailed behind him to the fridge, wrapping your arms around his soft waist. "Yeah, but it's not gonna be in there," you teased.

He chuckled, pulling out an iced tea for you, and not responding. He’s playing hard to get.

“Mm,” you hummed, stepping onto your tippy toes to brush your lips against the shell of his ear. “I’m not wearing any panties.”

He chuckled, poker face in full effect. “Good girl,” was the last thing he said before walking into the hallway towards the backyard, leaving a disappointed you in the kitchen alone.

The day went by slow enough, and yet you were unable to find that window of opportunity to get Joel alone. He was constantly helping or talking to someone — holding the baby so Maria could go get the door. Preparing more burger patties for Tommy. Offering a smile or two to women who expressed interest in him, or a laugh about golf with the men.

You were stuck listening to Sarah’s friends from college rant and rave about… Whatever they were into. You genuinely tried to listen but it was hard to keep up with how many like’s and literally’s and bro’s and duh’s they felt the need to use.

Alex called your name, catching your attention. “Why don’t you and my boy Johnnie hang out sometime? You’re single right?”

A stiff smile tugged on your cheeks, and your eyes flickered to Sarah for help, but her’s only widened slightly.

“Uh, no. No. Not single,” you blabbered. “Sorry.”

“Oh— well, who’re dating?”

“Uhhhhhhhh… He’s an older guy, you wouldn’t really know him.”

“Oh,” Alex said.

“H-how much older?” Johnnie chimed in, looking a little bummed.

You accidentally laughed, unable to contain your nerves. “Like… Fifties,” you said too quietly.

“Huh?”

“Firework time!” Tommy shouted.

“Thank, God,” both you and Sarah said to each other.

“Sorry!” She said after jogging to stand next to you. “I totally fucking blanked.”

“It’s fine,” you exhaled, “I just couldn’t come up with a better lie.”

“Wait, so are you dating my dad?”

You shrugged. “Eh. It’s not official if that’s what you mean.”

“I just wanna make sure I’m not gonna have to choose between my best friend and my dad,” she explained.

“You’d totally pick me though. Right?” You asked hopefully, looking at her with wide eyes.

“Totally,” she repeated with a warm smile.

You looked through the small crowd in seek of Joel, finding him standing on the left side of whatever explosive his brother was packing into the ground. His eyes found yours and he gave you a subtle smile, eyes trailing over the dress that squeezed your breasts and hugged your waist. He shot you a wink before reluctantly looking away, playfully flicking the lighter in his dominant hand.

“Is it cool if I stand go see your dad?” You asked.

“Don’t leave me with them, they’ll ask questions,” Sarah quietly pleaded with a strong tug on your arm.

“Then go with me!” You whispered back. “Tell them you wanna be in the family videos.”

She deadpanned you. “Now you manage to come up with a good lie?”

“Oh! Just do it!”

Your body apologetically moved through the small swarm of people, unsuspectingly making your way over to Joel with Sarah right behind you.

“Light ‘em up,” Tommy told Joel.

Soon after there was that familiar loud whistle rutting against your eardrums, a hissing sound traveling into the sky before the different colors spiraled into a nonsensical design. Kids shouted joyfully, aside from the Jensen’s baby who let out a small cry, and scattered conversation filled the remaining space of empty sound.

You felt more comfortable in Joel’s presence, even when his attention wasn’t completely on you, and even more with your best friend by your side.

You could smell the cheap body spray you picked out for him when you were at Walmart alone a few weeks ago. It took some convincing, but eventually he promised to wear it for you at some point.

It smelled even better being mixed with his musk and pheromones and the layer of sweat he always seemed to have in the Texas heat.

His brown t-shirt proven too tight around his biceps, nestling against his broad shoulder blades with a thin stripe of sweat resting along his spine.

You felt a small gush, suddenly regaining awareness of the fact that you had no panties on right now. Your cheeks beamed a deep red, legs clenching as you tried to smear the precum instead of letting it trickle down your thighs.

Right now your perfectly clean, soft, cum catching Victoria’s Secret cheekies were collecting Joel’s dust in Joel’s room next to Joel’s bed, and you felt absolutely agonizingly exposed even though the only person that knew you were commando was you.

But then Joel’s laugh caught your attention, eyes being drawn back to the curve of his soft tummy, and you decided to use your naked dilemma to your advantage.

But how could we get from point A to point Tease?

“Sarah, you wanna light a firework?” Tommy shouted.

“Hell! No!” She yelled, gaining a couple of disappointed looks from people but a chuckle from you. “I’ve seen people blowing their hands off. Unh-unh, no thanks Uncle Tommy.”

“Agh. Come onnn,” Joel urged. “Don’t be a pussy.”

“Name calling won’t work this time,” she retorted.

“What about’chu?” Joel asked, a daunting look in his dark eyes.

Bend over, give him a little show just to risk losing a limb? Sign me up, you thought.

“Sure, why not?”

You gently pulled the yellow lighter from Joel’s hot hand, brushing your ass against his lower belly as you went to stand in front of him.

“I just light the red thing?” You asked Tommy.

“Yeah, ‘n do it at an angle so you don’t blow your fingers off,” he said nonchalantly.

“O…kay?”

You bent over, slow enough to ensure the skirt of your dress not popping up. You flicked the lighter, forcing a flame to appear, and held it to the red string sticking out.

Just as the string caught the flame, you felt a breeze ghost over your slick cunt, and Joel let out a strained sigh loud enough for you to hear from where you were.

You took a few steps away and backed into Joel’s frame “accidentally”. Everyone watched in awe as the red’s and blue’s filled the black sky for a few seconds, while Tommy set up another firework for you to light.

You bent over a little more subtly, but still enough to give Joel’s something to look at.

After hopping back between Joel and Sarah once the next explosive went up, you gave Joel’s his lighter back and grinned real wide at him.

But when you turned back to face your best friend, all but a pleasant look wore her face.

“You guys are disgusting,” she spat. “Where are your panties?”

“I had to take them off because they looked like a dirty diaper.”

“Ugh, you are so lucky I love you,” she said with her face in her hands.

You kissed her cheek and behaved yourself for a few more minutes, but as the night grew darker the wetter you became. You needed to get Joel alone now or you would become inconsolable.

“Can I light one more?”

Joel nodded, offering you the lighter once more, and Sarah had to fight the urge to throw her hands up in the air.

You bent over once more, this time leaving a hand on the crease on your ass.

Come on, Joel thought, give me a peek of that pretty hole.

And you did just that; while everyone was watching the firework spiral into the air Joel watched you tug your ass to the side, revealing your small hole that glistened.

“Fuck,” he mumbled to himself, fighting the growing bulge in his Levi’s.

You told Sarah to try lighting one, and she reluctantly agreed to; you stayed until it went off before excusing yourself inside the house.

Making your way into to the kitchen, you tried your best to quickly wipe up the mess that covered your inner thighs, but a hand gripped your forearm.

You screeched, but let out a sigh of relief when you saw it was just Joel.

Without hesitation you got on your knees and looked up at him as if you had no idea what you’d done. You reached for his pants, but he swatted your hand away and carried you onto the island counter, pushing your chest to make you lay down.

Before you could question it his lips inhaled your clit, sucking it a little too hard and making your body jolt.

You searched for his eyes, but the darkness in the room swallowed every fine detail you sought whenever Joel landed between your legs, forcing you to just focus on the feeling.

His heavy tongue licked a quick line from the bottom of your sticky slit to the hood of your clit, pulling the little nub into his hot mouth again. Suckling it until you threatened him with a breathy moan.

He pulled back and popped his rough hand on your clit, the stinging causing you to bite your lip and quiet yourself.

“Keep your fucking mouth shut,” he harshly whispered.

“Need you—“

“Shut up,” he repeated firmly before diving back into your heated core again.

You tried reaching to tug at his hair but he swatted your hands away once more; you were blindly searching for something along the slab of marble to grip onto, accidentally knocking over a jar of something sticky.

You frantically tried to put the jar back up but Joel was sucking your pussy to hard and deliciously. Eventually you fixed the spilled issue, recognizing the texture as Joel’s silky honey from his beehives.

“Here,” you moaned, shoving your fingers beneath his swollen lips.

He hummed in approval, slurping up the remnants from your trembling digits. You gripped the edge of the countertop and bucked your hips, Joel’s nose nestling into the throbbing edges of your clit.

Shaking his head to intensify the pleasure, his nose tickled your little bundle of nerves, that orgasmic tingling climbing the edge of release.

“You’re gonna make me cum, baby,” you moaned softly.

That made him groan and eat you more sloppy than ever before. The obscene noises between his thick tongue and your slobbering pussy was filthy, disgusting almost.

Your moans were silenced behind your gritted teeth, legs burying Joel’s face deeper into your pulsing core, and he ensured his nose would continue rutting against your clit.

Your cry of euphoria was covered by a loud firework; Joel recognized that moan. You were cumming, leaking juices and honey into his mouth like a dam being released for the first time ever.

He lapped it up like a thirsty dog, not even savoring the taste before he found the urge to start slurping up your already sensitive clit again.

You whined, arms flailing in a poor attempt to remove his head.

It hurt it hurt it hurt so fucking bad.

But you couldn’t fight the grip Joel’s had around your thighs. The more you wiggled the more sensitive you became. You whined, accepting your fate and allowing your legs to tremble against his touch.

He made you endure the worst of it: the pain that swallowed you whole and antagonized every nerve ending in your body.

You’d fight harder if it were anyone else, but Joel elicited submission from you. You’d have him punish you anyway he deemed justified if it meant you got to have him.

You gurgled on your saliva, choking on your strained moans.

It was only until he’d had lost too much oxygen that he finally alleviated you from your suffering.

“Get on your fuckin’ knees,” he huffed, dropping his pants and boxers to his ankles.

You eagerly listened, feeling his hand grip your hair and force your eyes to look into his.

“Little fuckin’ slut wants to tease me in front’a everybody? Hmm? You thinks it’s okay to spread your fuckin’ pussy like that?”

He found the glass jar that was coated in the sweet nectar, holding it up in the moonlight for you to see.

“Look at the mess you made, baby,” he said in a mocking tone. “Gonna have to clean it up.”

Joel tipped the jar, pouring more than enough honey all over his painfully hard cock.

Your mouth watered, saliva pooling at the corners of your lips at the mere thought of the taste.

“Clean it up with your mouth for me, baby… Hands behind your back.”

You listened to his instructions, waffling your fingers together against the small of your back and curling your tongue against his velvety mushroom cockhead.

The salty taste made you moan, eyes narrowing up at his own. The slight glow of moonlight showing off the teardrops of honey dangling from his girthy shaft.

After you licked your yearning lips you took him into your mouth, gagging at the sickly sweet taste of too much honey.

“Ah, baby,” he whimpered. “Want me to fuck that cute little face a’yours?”

“M—mmhm,” you gurgled.

“Yeah?”

He held your head in place and thrusted into your drooling mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat with a lack of mercy.

Tears stung your eyes, excessive amounts of honey glossing over your trembling chin.

“You poor thing. Was that pretty little pussy dripping for me all day?”

You gurgled again, gagging on your hums of confirmation, nodding your dizzy head as he continued to fuck your face.

“Awwwh, such a needy little slut,” he cooed. “Need this cock deeper in that mouth, hmm?”

You nodded even more assuringly than before, moaning around his thick shaft. You blew bubbles of spit around his cock, keep his cock slippery enough to glide down your throat.

His breath was shaky, both hands now on your head, and soon after your throat was being stretched beyond its limits. You gagged around him, tears now flooding your puffy cheeks.

You reached up to give his heavy balls a decent tug, then squeezed them until you received a moan from his strained throat.

He growled when he yanked his cock from your throat, holding your head steady as you worked your way through your coughing fit.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he moaned throat gritted teeth, squatting to be eye level with you. He smacked your jaw once, twice, three times before licking the honey and tears from your face, sloppy kisses being shared occasionally. “Such a fucking good little slut.”

“Just for you,” you whimpered.

“Oh really?” He laughed cruelly. “That why you were showin’ the world your pussy?”

“Jus’ you,” you assured.

“Yeah? We’ll see about that.”

He stood you up and bent you over the counter, stretching the fabric of your dress from pulling it up to hard.

He pinched your pussy lips and leaned onto your back after you screeched.

“Who else you tryna show this pretty little thing to?”

“Ah— fuck. Ju— you, baby. Just you.”

Joel released his grip on your cunt, pushing his tip between your sore lips. Despite the slight burn, he filled you quickly and smoothly.

“Look at this fucking pussy,” he moaned. “Mmhmm. Fuckin’ swallowing my cock like a good little thing. This pussy’s all mine?”

“Yes!” You cried out.

Your weight rested entirely on your stomach, feet swinging in the air, head bobbing and hip painfully bumping into the corner of the surface.

“She’s all mine, baby?” He asked again.

“YESyesyesyes!”

His wrapped a hand around your open mouth, muffling your cries before they turned into screamed.

“Good job, babydoll,” he smiled. “Good job. You’re doing such a good job takin’ this fucking cock.”

“S’big,” you muffled into his clammy hand.

“Goddamn. I got you this wet, baby? Oh, you musta been clenching those pretty legs all day thinkin’ ‘bout me.“

You knew he was talking to himself, using you like a fucktoy. You loved when he fucked you hard, opposing his usual routine of being gentle. He always made you feel good, but when you really needed it he knew how to wear you out.

And it was dumb, really — him forcing you to keep quiet though if it were even just a little more quiet outside everyone would hear the sound of your ass clapping against his tummy pudge.

But it wasn’t about being quiet, it almost never is. It was about keeping you disciplined.

Joel’s thick fingerpads found your clit, pinching the sensitive nub before rubbing big, deep circles.

You clawed at the hand on your mouth, legs looping around his tense hairy legs to balance yourself.

“Yeah, take that cock, slut,” he whispered against your earlobe. “Actin’ all desperate for me. Gonna fuckin’ breed this perfect pussy.”

His filthy words made your knees buckle and your eyes roll back. Your gummy walls clenched around him, thick white cream coating his honey drenched cock.

Joel could feel your clit throbbing between his clumsy fingers, he watched your back rise and fall quickly as your pussy squelched around him from your orgasm.

He gave you one final hard thrust, a rope of his cum shooting into you, his cock throbbing, begging for more release.

“Tell me it’s mine,” he said tiredly.

“It’s all yours, baby. Fu- it’s yoursyoursyours! I belong to you. I fucking belong to you, my pussy was made for you!”

He started thrusting somewhere in the midst of your cock drunk babbles, grunting loudly as he filled you with his warm seed.

“I’m all yours, Joel,” you repeated softly as he finished.

“Yo, Joel, what the— fuck?!”

You ducked below the counter and held your mouth while Joel fixed his pants. Of all people that could’ve walked in it had to be his brother?

Actually, the more you thought about it the better it seemed.

You stared up at Joel’s blank expression and rolled your eyes before standing up.

“Sorry,” you grimaced. “I stole him. Just tell everyone I got sick and he was making sure I was alright.”

“Why is their honey all over the fucking counter?!” Tommy asked as he picked up the sticky jar.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” Joel said.

“No,” the younger man said in disbelief.

You both just stared at him and shrugged.

“How long were we gone?” You asked after Tommy finished berating Joel.

“Like twenty minutes, why?”

“We said we were gonna try that one position next time,” you reminded Joel.

Joel frowned for a moment before remembering the complicated position you stumbled upon a few days prior. He looked to Tommy with a smile.

“No,” he firmed answered.

Joel sighed turning back to you. “Tomorrow, baby.”

“Fine. I’m gonna go get a shower.”

You gave Joel one last kiss and said goodnight to Tommy before heading upstairs.

“Sarah’s best friend?” Tommy questioned as the two men made their way back outside.

Joel, who was still wearing that big smile said, “I know. She’s hot, right?”

#pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller blurb #beekeeper!joel

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kaira-diaries · 2 months ago

Text

No Rest for the Wicked:

Warnings: (SMUT!)(VIOLENCE!)

Pairing: fem!reader x frontman

Word Count: 9.7k

Summary: In-ho is a meticulous frontman who thrives on precision, discipline, and control. Every move is calculated, every moment accounted for—until she arrives. Hired out of necessity, the young woman is his complete opposite. She thrives on chaos, taking pleasure in breaking every rule and every plan he sets. Worst of all, she seems to take delight in driving him to the edge of his patience. Their partnership is a volatile clash like oil and water. She teases, taunts, and tests every boundary, while In-ho struggles to maintain his composure. But as their friction builds and the stakes rise, the dangerous line between loathing and longing begins to blur.

A/N: luv luv luvvv this one. Happy reading!!

Masterlist <-

____________________

You glanced at your wristwatch, the sleek silver face reflecting the dim overhead light. The seconds ticked away with maddening precision, each passing moment amplifying the knot of irritation in your chest. She was late—incredibly late.

Your fingers twitched, curling into tight fists as you fought to keep your composure. The air around you seemed heavier, the muffled chatter from the other side of the room doing little to distract from the growing tension. Across the table, the host offered you a reassuring nod, his attempt at easing your affliction falling painfully short.

It wasn't just her tardiness that got on your nerves. It was her audacity, her knack for stretching the limits of your patience like a bowstring ready to snap. She wasn't just inconsiderate—no, that would be too simple. She was deliberate calculated in her chaos, and she knew exactly how to press every button you had.

And that knowledge? That smug, unspoken certainty she carried? It was infuriating.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, the faintest tremor in your jaw betraying the effort it took to remain calm. The chair beside you was still empty, her absence an almost tangible presence, lingering like a challenge she'd thrown down just to see how far you'd bend before breaking.

Her very presence was a thorn lodged deep under your skin, impossible to ignore and maddening in its persistence. She never listened to you—never. If you asked her to go left, she'd veer right with a smirk that seemed designed solely to test your patience. Worse still, she didn't just disregard your requests—she actively defied them, as if rebellion were her favorite pastime.

And yet, somehow, inexplicably, the games never faltered. The flow remained seamless, like clockwork ticking away in perfect rhythm, even as she derailed every plan you meticulously crafted. It was a mystery that gnawed at the edges of your mind—a puzzle that only served to deepen your frustration.

She was impulsive, reckless to a fault, charging ahead without a second thought. Her voice carried over everyone else's, bold and unapologetically loud, as if daring the world to silence her. Every question she asked felt less like a search for understanding and more like a challenge, a way to undermine your authority with a simple raise of her brow.

But what truly stoked the fire of your irritation was the way the host looked at her—admired her.

The easy way he laughed at her quips, the way his eyes lit up when she spoke, as though she were some indispensable force of nature. It was because of him that she was here in the first place. If it were up to you, she wouldn't have lasted a single day.

Your fingers itched with suppressed rage as you watched her enter from across the room, all audacity, moving through the space like she owned it as she leaned against the wall beside you. If you had your way, you'd silence her smug grin permanently. Snap her neck in one clean motion and finally restore the order she so gleefully disrupted.

But you didn't.

You couldn't.

And that, more than anything, made you despise her all the more.

"You're late," you said, your tone clipped and icy, each word measured to convey your displeasure.

"No, you're early," she countered, her voice light and teasing. The smooth, carved white mask tilted up toward you, the faintest reflection of the room's dim light glinting off its polished surface. Her snicker followed, a soft, mocking sound that seemed to echo in the silence she'd created.

"Typical. Always trying to show off like a teacher's pet." She snapped.

"Early?" you shot back, rolling your eyes under your mask. "No, you're just late. Again. Not that I'm surprised—being on time would require you to actually care about something other than yourself."

She let out a dramatic gasp, clutching her chest like you'd mortally wounded her. "Oh no, I've disappointed the hall monitor! What ever will I do?" Her snicker was sharp, slicing through the room like a needle poking at your patience.

"Yeah, laugh it up," you muttered, crossing your arms. "You wouldn't last five minutes if someone actually called you out on your bullshit."

"And yet here I am," she countered, taking a step closer. Her voice dropped into a mock-serious whisper. "Still standing. Still better than you at literally everything. Weird how that works, huh?"

You scoffed, leaning forward slightly. "Better at what? Being an obnoxious pain in the ass."

"Careful," she interrupted, wagging a gloved finger in your direction. "Your big words might scare someone. Not me, obviously, but someone."

"Big words?" you snapped. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot I was dealing with an immature brat."

"Better an immature brat than a boring old stick-in-the-mud," she quipped, the smirk practically audible in her tone.

"Stick-in-the-mud?" you repeated, incredulous. "Says the person who can't handle basic responsibilities without making it a disaster."

"Doing something doesn't mean running around and breaking everything just because you can," you shot back, your voice rising slightly.

"And hiding behind rules doesn't make you noble," she snapped, her tone sharper now. "It just makes you boring. And scared."

"Scared?" you hissed, leaning down until your masked face was level with hers. "You don't even know what fear looks like. But keep this up, and I'll gladly show you."

"That's enough," the host calls out, his voice calm but firm. His eyes held yours for a moment, a silent command to back down. "She's here now, and that's what matters."

Your fists clenched at your sides, the urge to argue bubbling just beneath the surface. Instead, you exhaled sharply through your nose, shifting your gaze from the host back to her. She tilted her head slightly as if daring you to say more.

It took every ounce of restraint you had to stay silent as you took your seat.

As she sat down, the host cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "Alright, let's get started. As you all know, the next round of games is fast approaching. We've received feedback from the VIPS, and there's been a proposal to adjust the contract terms for the contestants."

Your pen hovered over your notes as the host continued. "The new terms suggest that we raise the stakes, increasing the reward but also the risks. This is meant to incentivize more dramatic gameplay."

"Riskier how?" she interjected, her voice cutting through the room like a blade.

The host barely blinked. "Higher physical and mental demands. Greater challenges, fewer safeguards. It's meant to create... heightened tension for the VIPS."

You frowned, straightening in your seat. "That sounds reckless," you said, your tone sharp. "We're already walking a fine line. This could jeopardize the structure of the games."

"Oh, come on," she drawled, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, her mask catching the dim light. "You're always so uptight about the 'structure.' Maybe a little disarray is exactly what the games need."

Your pen pressed harder against the paper than necessary, the sound of the tip scraping echoing faintly in the room. "Disarray undermines everything we've built. The games operate on discipline and order. Anything less is unacceptable."

She let out a low laugh, a sound that made the hair on the back of your neck bristle. "Unacceptable to you, maybe. But isn't the whole point to keep the VIPS on the edge of their seats? You can't do that if everything runs like one of your precious schedules."

Your grip on the pen tightened as you shot her a glare beneath the mask. "It's that 'precious schedule' that ensures the games run smoothly. Without it, this entire operation would collapse."

She tilted her head, her fingers tapping idly on the table. "Or maybe you're just afraid of losing control. Letting things get a little messy might show you're not as indispensable as you think."

The tension in the room was strangling now, the host glancing between the two of you before raising a hand. "Alright, that's enough," he said, his voice firm but calm. "We're here to discuss the proposal, not argue over personal philosophies."

You leaned back in your chair, exhaling sharply as you forced yourself to look away from her. But even without meeting her eyes, you could feel the weight of her gaze, the amusement radiating from her like heat.

The host continued, detailing the proposed changes, but you barely heard him. Every word she'd said replayed in your mind, each one an irritating barb lodged under your skin.

By the time the meeting ended, your patience was threadbare. And as she passed by you on her way out, she murmured just loud enough for you to hear, "You should try relaxing sometime. It might save you a wrinkle or two."

The sound of her laughter lingered in the air long after she'd disappeared, mocking and maddening.

_____________________

A week had passed, and In-ho had been conspicuously absent.

You smirked to yourself, the corner of your mouth curling upward as you imagined him pacing somewhere, fuming, probably off whining to the host about how intolerable you were. The thought was almost enough to make you laugh out loud.

Let him complain. Let him stew. You couldn't care less.

You weren't about to be another one of his obedient little soldiers, marching in perfect formation at the snap of his fingers. No, you were his equal, and that fact grated on him more than anything else. You weren't some pawn on his neatly arranged chessboard, and you sure as hell weren't going to roll over like some well-trained dog every time he barked an order.

No, you'd made it your personal mission to shatter that illusion of control he clung to so tightly. To remind him that not everyone in this damn place would cower under his glare or scramble to meet his impossible standards.

Pissing In-ho off wasn't just a habit—it was an art form. A beautifully destructive symphony of defiance, played out in every smirk, every pointed question, every subtle act of rebellion. And with every crack in his composure, every flash of irritation you coaxed out of him, you felt a flicker of satisfaction.

If In-ho couldn't handle you, that was his problem.

Fresh from the shower, you felt the lingering warmth of the water still clinging to your skin as you moved to the mirror. The steam hung in the air, curling in soft tendrils around you, but your focus was sharp. You reached for your outfit—a pair of pristine white trousers tailored to perfection, sliding them on with ease. The fabric was smooth and cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the flush of heat still fading from your body.

Next came the matching top, its clean lines and minimalist design fitting like a tight second skin, a hint of cleavage showing. The mirror reflected the symmetry of your ensemble, stark and crisp, a blank slate ready for the chaos to come.

Today marked the start of the games, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't buzzing with anticipation. Excitement simmered beneath the surface, an energy you couldn't suppress even if you wanted to. The stillness of the off-season always wore on you, like an endless monotony threatening to smother. But this—this was different. The games brought life, unpredictability, and tension to this place. They brought purpose.

Your fingers worked through your hair with practiced precision, brushing out the loose curls that tumbled just past your shoulders. Each strand gleamed under the soft light, catching faint golden hues as they settled into place. You reached for your mask—the final touch.

The smooth, flawless surface was cold in your hands as you raised it to your face, adjusting the fit until it sat perfectly. Its pale white sheen concealed everything, leaving only your sharp gaze visible through the narrow slits.

The games were about to begin, and with them, the thrilling chaos you craved. The air seemed to vibrate with possibility as you turned away from the mirror, your footsteps light but purposeful into the hallway. You grabbed your heels, throwing them on when the elevator slid open, and out stepped In-ho.

You rolled your eyes beneath your mask, the gesture hidden but no less satisfying, as you leaned back against the cool wall. Sliding one foot into a sleek white heel, then the other, you caught the distinct sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps echoing down the hallway. Your head tilted, curiosity piqued as you glanced up. His walk was brisk, almost aggressive, his movements radiating irritation with every stomp.

A grin tugged at the corner of your lips. Perfect opportunity.

Straightening, you smoothed your trousers with exaggerated calm and crossed your arms, planting yourself squarely in his path. "What's your deal?" you asked, your tone dripping with feigned innocence, though the amusement was hard to miss.

He didn't so much as slow down, brushing past you like you were an irritating fly buzzing too close to his ear. His silence only made your grin widen. You turned to watch him stride into the lounge, catching the moment he ripped off his mask with an almost violent flourish and tossed it onto the sofa.

Without missing a beat, he stalked to the nearby bar, pulling out a pristine glass and filling it halfway with whiskey in one smooth motion. His hand tightened around the bottle for a moment before he set it down with a sharp clink.

"I don't have the energy for you right now," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, as he raised the glass to his lips.

You clutched your chest dramatically, letting out a mock gasp. "Too bad." Pushing off the wall, you strolled into the room after him, your heels clicking against the floor with an infuriating rhythm.

"You know me, In-ho. I thrive on inconvenient timing."

He shot you a sidelong glare, but it only spurred you on. You leaned against the edge of the bar, propping your chin on your hand as you stared up at him, unbothered by his simmering irritation.

"What's got you so grumpy, hmm?" you teased, your voice lilting like you were speaking to a child throwing a tantrum. "Did someone spill coffee on one of your precious schedules? Or maybe a player wasn't sufficiently terrified yet?"

His jaw tightened, the muscles working as he downed another sip of whiskey, refusing to look at you.

You couldn't help but smirk. "Silent treatment? Really? Come on, In-ho, you can do better than that. Don't tell me I've already worn you out."

He set the glass down with a deliberate thud, finally turning to face you, his eyes dark and sharp. "Do you ever stop talking?"

"Not when I'm having this much fun," you quipped, batting your lashes beneath the mask. "And you, my friend, are very entertaining right now."

His exasperated sigh only made you grin wider.

In-ho's hand hovered over his glass, his fingers tightening briefly before releasing. He stared at you for a long moment, his jaw ticking as if he were debating whether to engage or ignore you entirely.

"You know," he began, his tone flat and dripping with mock thoughtfulness, "if you put half as much effort into your job as you do into being a nuisance, this place might actually run smoother."

You let out a soft laugh, pushing off the bar to stand closer, just enough to invade his space.

"Oh, but where's the fun in that? Besides," you said, tilting your head, "I'm pretty sure this place would collapse under the weight of your ego without me around to balance it out."

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, you thought he might actually snap back. Instead, he grabbed his glass and took another slow sip, his eyes narrowing over the rim as he watched you.

"And here I thought you were just here to waste my time," he muttered, his voice low and edged with sarcasm.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," you shot back, circling him with deliberate steps, your heels clicking against the floor in a rhythm that mirrored your teasing tone. "Wasting your time implies you have something better to do."

"I do," he said, his voice sharper now as he turned to follow your movements, his eyes tracking you like a predator.

You stopped just behind him, leaning in close enough that your breath brushed against his ear. "If you say it's running the games, I might actually die of boredom."

He spun to face you, stepping closer, and suddenly, the space between you felt almost too small. His dark eyes bore into yours through the slits of your mask, the tension crackling. Before you could register his movement, he grabbed the edges of your mask with one swift motion. His fingers were rough, impatient, as he yanked it off your face, throwing it on the couch with a force that made you stumble back slightly.

"Is this all just a joke to you?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

You met his gaze evenly, your grin fading just slightly as the weight of his intensity pressed against you. "Of course not," you said, your tone softer but still laced with defiance. "But I'm not going to let this place suck the life out of me, either. Someone has to keep things interesting."

"Interesting," he repeated, the word almost a growl. "Is that what you call constantly testing my patience?"

"Mm-hmm," you hummed, a smirk returning to your lips as you took a deliberate step closer. Now, the two of you were nearly chest to chest, and the air between you was thick with something unstated.

But then—chime.

The sound of your wristwatch ringing out broke the silence, cutting through the tension. You glanced down at the sleek, minimalist face, the chime reminding you of the ever-pressing duties waiting for you. The games were about to begin, and you had no time to waste.

"Looks like playtime's over," you said with a small sigh. You could see the frustration in In-ho's face, the way his jaw tightened with each passing second, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction.

"Don't worry," you added, voice sweet with irony, "you'll have plenty of time to stew while I'm running the show."

As you reached your mask on the couch beside his, you paused, then turned back to face him. You could almost see the annoyance simmering in his eyes, his grip tightening around the whiskey glass.

"Just a word of advice, In-ho," you said, stepping a little closer, your tone suddenly shifting to something colder, sharper. "Next time you decide to rip off my mask…" You took a slow, deliberate step toward him, your voice low, "Make sure you're ready for what comes after. Because I promise you, you won't like it."

For a moment, the two of you locked eyes, the silent tension thick enough to strangle the air between you.

You gave him a final, knowing smile—this one devoid of the usual amusement. "Don't test me again."

The air between you and In-ho crackled with a challenge, but just as you turned to leave, In-ho's voice stopped you.

"Is that supposed to scare me?" he asked, his tone colder than before, the edge in his voice unmistakable.

You paused mid-step, a smirk curling at the corner of your lips as you slowly turned back to face him. His eyes were narrowed, but there was something new in them—a flicker of defiance, something that suggested he wasn't backing down so easily.

"You seem awfully confident for someone who doesn't know what they're up against," he continued, his words slow and deliberate, each one measured, like he was trying to work out the exact right thing to say. "You think I'm fearful of a tiny little bitch like you?"

You raised an eyebrow, stepping a fraction closer, the space between you now charged with a dangerous sort of energy. "Oh, In-ho," you said, voice light and airy, but there was something deadly lurking behind it. "I'm not trying to scare you. I'm just threatening you. There's a difference."

You took another step forward, the space between you both shrinking, until you were standing far too close—close enough to feel the heat of his body radiating against yours. His eyes locked on yours, dark and simmering with something raw, something dangerous. Without warning, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist with a force that made you gasp, yanking you forward into him.

The suddenness of his movement left you breathless, and before you could process it, you found yourself pressed against him, chest to chest. The strength of his hold on you was unwavering, his fingers digging into your skin as if he was holding you there, forcing you to feel every ounce of his power.

"You think I won't do what it takes to put you in your place?" In-ho growled, his voice low, rough with barely contained fury. His breath, tinged with the sharp scent of whiskey, brushed against your lips, making your pulse quicken in spite of yourself. "Because I will."

"Don't ever threaten. Me. Again," he said, his voice laced with cold venom, each word deliberate, each syllable a promise of something darker to come if you crossed him again. He pushed you off him and turned back to his bar for another drink.

_________________

The first game was successful.

You stood tall in the control room, ordering the guards with ease as players began to drop like flies, unveiling the victors of Red Light, Green Light.

Shifting your weight between your heels, you couldn't help but replay the confrontation with In-ho earlier. His threat still lingered in your mind, but there was no real fear. You knew exactly what would happen if he laid a hand on you—the host would have his ass, and that made you untouchable. It was almost amusing, the way he thought he could assert dominance over you, but you knew better.

As the game room emptied and the familiar hum of quiet descended, you decided to retire for the night—until your walkie-talkie rung to life, pulling you back into the present.

You answered immediately, the sound of your voice cutting through the tension in the air.

"What."

"There's an intruder somewhere in the facility."

A rush of adrenaline shot through you, the word intruder sparking something dangerous in the pit of your stomach. Your body went rigid, anticipation flooding your veins like wildfire. This wasn't just any ordinary situation—this was chaos, and you thrived on it.

"We found a police ID on the south side of the island," the voice continued, the urgency clear, "and a dead guard on the lower level."

You bit your lip, a wicked smile curving at the corners of your mouth as anger mixed with something else—a thrilling excitement. This was exactly what you'd been waiting for. The tension, the unknown—everything about this screamed hunt.

"I'll meet you on the lower level," you responded, your tone sharp, like a knife waiting to strike.

"No need; the boss is down here with us, he's handling it."

A scoff escaped you before you could stop it, and you rolled your eyes as you muttered, "Is he, though?" The idea of In-ho trying to handle this alone, trying to assert his control—it was almost laughable. This was the kind of mess you relished, and there was no way you were going to let him take all the fun.

Your pulse quickened, the thrill of the chase making your heart beat faster. You couldn't help it—the thought of an intruder, someone bold enough to cause trouble on your island, made every cell in your body buzz with energy. You were practically vibrating with anticipation.

Without missing a beat, you ordered three guards to accompany you to the lower levels. Your voice was steady, but there was an undeniable edge to it now, sharp with the excitement of what was to come.

You didn't turn away from the path you'd set. In-ho could sulk all he wanted—he'd never keep you from what you wanted. This wasn't just an intrusion; it was the chaos you craved. And there was no way you were going to sit back and let him deal with it.

"Let's see how this goes," you muttered under your breath, a grin spreading across your face as you turned toward the elevator, the sound of your heels echoing with purpose. You couldn't wait to dive into the chaos, and you were going to enjoy every second of it.

With your mask snug against your face, you stood in the elevator, the steady hum of the descent filling the silence around you. The weight of the moment settled in, a charged anticipation hanging in the air as you glanced over at your three guards. They were tense, waiting for your command, ready for anything, but you could tell there was hesitation in behind their masks.

"There's an intruder in the facility," you stated flatly, your voice cutting through the air like a knife. Your tone brooked no argument, no questions. You were in control now, and they knew it.

You met their gazes one by one, masks hard and unwavering. "I want you to find him. Immediately."

You didn't wait for a response, your hand instinctively moving to your belt. You drew your pistol with a fluid, practiced motion, the weight of the gun in your hand grounding you further in the moment. You turned slowly, locking eyes with each of your men, the tension thickening with every passing second.

"Your other boss," you continued, your voice taking on a dangerous edge, "will try to shut me down on this. But you listen to me." You paused, letting the words settle, watching their masks carefully for any sign of doubt. "You listen to me, and only me."

"You understand?" you asked, your tone low but commanding, making it clear that any refusal wasn't an option.

The guards nodded in unison, their resolve solidifying, and you felt a quiet thrill run through you. They were on your side now. It wasn't just about finding the intruder anymore; it was about asserting your control, staking your claim over this situation, and making sure no one—especially In-ho—could stand in your way.

As the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, the guards quickly split off, and you stalked down the hallway with a purposeful stride. Your heels clicked sharply against the floor, the rhythmic sound echoing down the corridor, as if marking the arrival of something—or someone—undeniable. Your mask kept your expression hidden, but the challenge was clear in the way you held yourself.

You could feel In-ho's presence before you saw him. The moment you laid eyes on him crouched over the body, surrounded by six of his ever-loyal guards, a familiar irritation stirred in you. His stoic figure, his posture always so composed and controlled, was as irritating as ever.

The guards parted with military precision, saluting you as you approached, but you didn't spare them a glance. Your focus was entirely on him—the one who always thought he had it all figured out, the one who couldn't stand the fact that you didn't take his orders lying down.

"Really?" you said, your voice cutting through the tension, dripping with sarcasm. Your mask didn't soften the bite of your words, and you could sense the flicker of frustration in his eyes. "Trying to send your message through an underling to keep me out of this?"

In-ho's eyes narrowed, and the way his hands tightened into fists at his sides was enough to show how much your words were riling him up. His mask didn't hide the intensity of his gaze—if anything, it only made his irritation more palpable, the way his body seemed to vibrate with barely contained annoyance.

He stood slowly, his movements precise, and as he straightened to his full height, the weight of his glare bore down on you.

"Get back upstairs," he said, his voice low and sharp, like a blade barely missing its mark. The command in his tone was unmistakable, but you didn't flinch. If anything, you leaned in closer, making the air between you thick with challenge.

Without hesitation, you crossed your arms over your chest, your mask hiding the smirk that played at your lips. "Are you forgetting something?" you asked, your voice dripping with the kind of defiance that made it clear this was no ordinary confrontation. "I'm your equal. I'm just as capable, if not more, of handling this shit."

You let the words hang in the air, the quiet simmering tension growing as In-ho's grip on his composure seemed to loosen. His jaw clenched harder, and you could almost feel the heat radiating off him as he fought to keep his cool. But that slight shift—just a crack in his carefully maintained mask—was everything to you.

Without a word, he raised a hand, signaling the guards to step back. They hesitated for a split second before following his command, moving to the sides of the hallway, leaving you two alone in the tense silence.

In-ho's mask never left yours as the guards disappeared into the shadows of the corridor.

He exhaled sharply, as if trying to steady himself, but his irritation was practically crackling in the air. "You think you can handle this better than me?" His voice was a low growl, now tinged with genuine annoyance, his mask never leaving yours. "Do you even know what you're dealing with?"

The thrill of it made your pulse quicken, the mask hiding the grin that was now fully on your face. You had him exactly where you wanted him—flustered, irritated, and not in control.

"Guess I'll find out," you said with an almost playful tilt of your head, taking a step closer, relishing in how much he wanted to throw you out of this.

In-ho took a slow, deliberate step forward, closing the distance between you both. His posture was rigid, every muscle taut, his mask a barrier that did little to hide the fury brewing beneath the surface. You didn't step back; if anything, you stood taller, a deliberate challenge in your stance, as if daring him to take it further. He reached, gripping your wrist like earlier, but the strength of it nearly took your breath away this time.

"You think you can just do whatever you want, don't you?" His voice was lower now, more dangerous. The frustration in his tone was almost palpable, every word clipped and sharp. "You think you're above this, above me?"

You tilted your head, your mask hiding the satisfaction curling at the corner of your lips. The sight of him like this—the normally composed, always in control In-ho, now visibly rattled—was just the reaction you wanted.

"You're not above me," you countered, your voice calm, but there was a taunting edge to it. "If you think I'm going to bow down just because you're playing boss in front of your little army, you're sorely mistaken."

The air between you was thick with anger and something else—something raw. In-ho's grip on your wrist was unrelenting, his fingers like iron around your skin, but you weren't backing down. You matched his intensity, glaring up at him through your mask, your heart pounding with adrenaline and the thrill of the confrontation.

"You think I'll just bow down because you tell me to?" you repeated, your voice cutting through the tension.

In-ho's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing with growing frustration. "You don't have a choice," he hissed, pulling you forward.

Your free hand shot out before you even thought, slapping his hand away, pushing him back with a force that surprised even you. He stumbled slightly but didn't give up. He was quick—too quick. His fist shot out, grazing your cheek just enough to leave a sting. You stumbled back. The impact fired something inside of you, a spark of rage and something deeper, something darker.

Slipping your mask off, you dropped it to the ground and wiped your cheek with a gloved hand, feeling the heat of his blow still linger on your skin, but the anger that burned through you now was far more potent than any pain.

"Is that how it's going to be?" you asked, your voice dangerously calm, a wicked grin pulling at your lips. "You want to hit me, In-ho?"

Without waiting for a response, you lunged forward, swinging a fist of your own aimed at his chest. He sidestepped just in time, but you were already moving again, quicker than before, aiming for his midsection this time. The force of your punch collided with his ribs, and you felt the sharp crack of contact. He grunted but didn't falter.

He responded almost instantly, his body lunging at yours with the full force of his weight, knocking you back into the metal wall with a sharp thud. Pain shot through your body, but you were too filled with adrenaline to let it slow you down. You twisted, slipping from his grasp with a quick maneuver, spinning around to land another kick to his side.

In-ho grunted in surprise, his mask knocked off from the fall, but he was on his feet in an instant, his eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and something else—something you couldn't quite place. He grabbed you by the shoulders, slamming you back against the wall again, his grip tightening with a force that made your breath catch in your throat.

"You think I'm going to let you walk all over me?" he growled, his face dangerously close to yours. His body was pressed against yours, and you could feel every muscle in his frame, the heat radiating off him like fire.

"You think I'm going to let you control me?" you growled back, your breath quick and uneven from the physicality of the fight.

"Maybe," he growled, leaning in just slightly, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. "Maybe it's time someone did."

You didn't let him finish. Your free hand shot up, grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him down to you with force. And then, without warning, your lips met in a clash of heat and need. The kiss was urgent, desperate—his mouth pressed against yours with the same force that had defined the entire fight, as though he was trying to prove something, to break something.

For a moment, you were both just fire—raw and uncontrolled. His lips moved against yours with hunger, and you responded in kind, your hand sliding into his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss as your bodies collided again. The air between you crackled, the tension from the fight now blending with something far more electric.

His grip on your wrist loosened as his arm slid around your waist, pulling you in tighter. His other hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your jaw, opening you up to his intensity as his tongue slipped in. You felt like you were burning, like the storm between you both had finally reached its crescendo, consuming you entirely.

And then it came. A sharp, static-filled crack from the walkie-talkie clipped to your belt, followed by a voice.

"Boss," the voice buzzed through, loud and jarring. "We've found the intruder. West sector, lower levels. Do you copy?"

The words broke through the haze like a bucket of cold water. You stiffened, your grip in his hair faltering as reality came crashing back.

His lips hovered a fraction of an inch from yours, his breathing ragged, his eyes burning with an intensity that matched your own. For a second, he didn't move, his hand still cradling your jaw, his arm still holding you close, as though refusing to let go of the moment you'd just shared.

The walkie buzzed again, more insistent this time. "Boss? Are you there? We need confirmation."

With a frustrated sigh, you pulled back, breaking the connection between you. Your hand dropped from his hair, and you took a step away, trying to catch your breath and steady your racing heart.

"Of course," you muttered under your breath, your fingers fumbling for the walkie at your side. You didn't look at him, couldn't, not yet. Not when the heat of the kiss was still burning on your lips.

"Copy that," you said into the device, your voice sharper than intended.

"Hold position. I'm on my way."

The walkie crackled one last time with an acknowledgment, and you clipped it back to your belt. The silence between you and him was deafening now, the air still charged but different—strained, unresolved.

When you finally dared to glance up, his eyes were locked on you, dark and unreadable. His lips parted as though he wanted to say something, but he stopped himself, his jaw tightening instead.

"We'll finish this later," you said, your tone steadier than you felt. Without waiting for his response, you turned on your heel, grabbed your mask, and strode toward the door, forcing yourself not to look back.

You fully expected him to pull you back, bark at you to leave it, to stay and deal with whatever this was between you. But he didn't.

He stayed silent, his hands falling away from you as you turned to leave. The absence of his touch was jarring, a stark contrast to the way he'd just held you—like he couldn't let go. But now, he stood rooted in place, his breathing heavy in the quiet room.

It threw you off. You'd been ready for the fight, for the inevitable argument, for him to try and stop you. But this? This unnerved you more than anything he could have said.

You paused just before the door and glanced back at him. He hadn't moved, his head tilted slightly downward, his expression unreadable.

"You're not going to stop me?" you asked, your voice quieter than you intended, but still cutting through the charged air between you.

For a moment, he didn't respond. Then, slowly, he raised his head, his dark eyes meeting yours. There was something there—something raw, simmering just beneath the surface.

"No," he said finally, his voice low and steady, though it carried a weight that made your chest tighten. "You want to deal with it? Go. But don't expect me to chase after you when it all goes to hell."

His words hit harder than you expected, the finality of them slicing through you. You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off, taking a step closer, his tone dark and biting.

"And it will go to hell," he added. "Because that's what always happens when you rush into things without thinking."

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "I don't need you to save me."

"Good," he shot back, his voice sharp as a whip. "Because I'm not going to."

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, the tension between you stretching tighter and tighter. Then you turned away slipping through the hallway past the guards.

"Prick," you muttered as your heels clicked down the hall.

___________________

The intruder was good; you'd give him that much.

He'd slipped into the facility undetected, maneuvering through the complicated halls with unnerving precision. Evidently, he'd been here for a while—long enough to collect a damning amount of evidence. His phone, now in your hand, held a treasure trove of incriminating photos and notes. The glow of its cracked screen illuminated your face as you scrolled through files, each one a threat to everything you'd built.

Your lips pressed into a hard line as you let the device dangle from your fingertips. Then, with a flick of your wrist, you tossed it to the floor. The loud crack of glass shattering beneath your heel as you ground it into the tiles sent a satisfying echo through the room. No one would ever see what was on that phone.

The intruder was gone now. Permanently. You'd made sure of it. There had been no interrogation, no attempt to extract information. You didn't need to. You knew how this worked. Getting into this place was hard enough; leaving it required either your permission or In-ho's. The man had known what he was walking into—a one-way trip. And you weren't in the mood to waste time entertaining his courage or stupidity.

With the mess handled, you stepped away from the remnants of the phone, brushing your hands together as if physically ridding yourself of the situation. Your eyes drifted to the wine bottle sitting on the sleek marble countertop, its deep red label almost matching the liquid within. The temptation was too strong to resist. You reached for the bottle, the cold glass a welcome contrast to the heat still simmering beneath your skin.

Pouring a generous glass, you watched as the dark wine swirled, the rich aroma wafting up to meet you. You raised it to your lips and drank deeply, the warmth of the alcohol sliding down your throat and settling in your chest. You left the bottle on the counter, an unspoken promise to return for more.

The kitchen was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator. You hadn't checked the time, but you knew it was late. That alone brought some relief. The night hours always felt safer, quieter—a time to think without the weight of others' gazes on you.

Still, your thoughts weren't entirely your own tonight.

They were tethered to him.

In-ho.

The memory of what happened earlier flared to life, unbidden but vivid. The fight had been vicious, brutal. Every punch, every shout, every glare had been like a spark thrown onto dry kindling. And then... the kiss. It had been as fiery as the fight itself, urgent and unrelenting. The taste of him still lingered on your lips, a ghost that refused to leave.

You exhaled sharply, frustrated with yourself. The memory shouldn't have this much power over you, but it did. It wasn't just the kiss—it was everything. The heat of the confrontation, the way he challenged you, pushed you, matched you in a way no one else dared. Your fingers twitched at your side, itching with a restless energy that made your skin buzz. You wanted—no, needed—to exorcise this feeling, to take control of it before it consumed you.

Scoffing, you tossed back the rest of the wine, the empty glass clinking against the countertop as you set it down. The alcohol burned, but it wasn't enough to dull the flame still smoldering inside you.

In the silence that followed, you ran a hand through your hair, your fingers catching on the tangles left from the day's chaos. The nervous edge crept back in, settling at the base of your spine. Seeing him again—soon, inevitably—wasn't something you were sure you were ready for. You knew it would happen. It always did. But this time, you weren't sure what would happen when it did.

The faint creaking of the door was all the warning you had. The sound of it opening and closing, followed by the unmistakable rhythm of his footsteps, sent a ripple through the stillness of the room. Each step grew louder, closer, until they stopped just outside the doorway.

Your hand moved instinctively, fingers curling around the neck of the wine bottle. You poured another glass, the liquid glugging softly against the still air. You didn't look up, but you knew it was him—his presence was unmistakable, a gravity that pulled every nerve in your body taut.

When he turned the corner, his dark eyes locked on you immediately. He stopped just inside the room, his shoulders set, his expression unreadable except for the slight downturn of his lips—a quiet, simmering disappointment that made your chest tighten for reasons you didn't care to analyze.

"Oh, don't be so disappointed," you said, raising the glass to your lips without breaking eye contact. The wine slid down your throat, smooth and warming, though it did little to calm the buzzing tension. "Last I checked, this is a shared space."

He exhaled sharply, not quite a sigh, but close enough to make his displeasure clear. His head tilted slightly, his eyes scanning you, taking in every detail of your stance, your expression, the faint stain of red wine on your lips.

"Funny. You treat it like it's yours half the time."

You turned to face him fully, setting the wine glass down with a deliberate clink. "I wasn't aware we were keeping score. Should I start tallying how often you leave your messes for someone else to clean up?"

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, his boots clicking softly against the polished floor. His presence filled the room, the air around you thickening as the distance between you shrank. "If you're going to keep tabs, at least be honest about it," he said, his voice dropping slightly, each word deliberate and weighted. "You're just mad I'm here. Admit it."

"Mad?" You scoffed, crossing your arms as you leaned casually against the counter. "Hardly. If anything, I'm amused. I didn't realize I had you so pressed that you'd come stalking in here to… what? Scold me? Intimidate me?"

Something flickered in his eyes, a spark of challenge, of something darker and more dangerous. He took another step closer, close enough now that you could feel the faint heat of him even with the air between you.

"I'm not here to scold you," he said, his voice quieter now but no less intense. "If I wanted to intimidate you, you'd already be shaking."

Your heart skipped, but you kept your expression cool, your body still leaning against the counter as though his proximity didn't send a thrill racing down your spine. "You think I scare that easily?" you shot back, your tone sharper now, daring him to push further.

His lips curved, not quite a smile, but something far more dangerous. "No," he said, his voice dropping even lower. "I think you like the game too much to ever back down."

He was close now, so close that you could see the tension in his jaw, the slight flare of his nostrils as he breathed. His eyes burned into yours, the unspoken challenge between you crackling like static electricity. You tilted your head, a devious smile flashing, "Ain't no rest for the wicked, hmm?" Raising your glass, you toasted to it.

For a moment, the room felt like it was teetering on the edge of something—risky, thrilling, inevitable. His eyes flicked to your lips, just for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to send a pulse of heat through you.

"Careful," he murmured his voice barely above a whisper, the words brushing against your skin like a caress. "You're pushing me to see just how far you'll go."

Your breath hitched, your chest tightening, but you didn't flinch, didn't falter. Instead, you held his gaze, your voice steady despite the thunderous racing of your heart. "Try me."

He didn't respond—not with words. Instead, his hand came up, fingers brushing against the edge of your jaw, his touch impossibly light but searing all the same. He leaned in, his breath warm against your skin, his eyes searching yours for just a moment longer.

And then his lips were on yours, claiming them with a fierce, unrelenting intensity that stole the air from your lungs. The kiss wasn't gentle—it was raw, consuming, a continuation of every unspoken argument and unresolved tension between you. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, his grip firm, possessive.

You responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his shirt as you pulled him closer, the taste of wine still lingering on your tongue. The fire between you burned hotter, brighter, threatening to consume you both as the room around you seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you in its wake.

With a sudden, forceful grip on the back of your thighs, he lifted you effortlessly onto the counter. You gasped in shock, the quick motion catching you off guard, your glass slipping from your hand and spilling behind you. The red wine spread across the smooth marble like blood—dark, rich, and staining the space between you both.

You didn't have time to think, not when you were already nudging him closer, your legs urging him forward with a quiet insistence. He obeyed immediately, his body pressing against yours with a low grunt of approval. His hands slid beneath your blouse, the fabric brushing against your skin as his fingers traced slow, deliberate paths up your back.

The sensation was overwhelming, sending a sharp tingle through every nerve as his calloused hands scraped lightly against the soft, sensitive skin of your lower back. Each touch, each rough movement, stoked a growing heat inside you, the slight sting of his touch mingling with the electric thrill of it. The pain was sweet, almost intoxicating, and you couldn't help but arch into him, chasing that delicious burn.

His hand shot up to your hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands. His grip possessive. The sudden pressure at the base of your neck sent a shiver down your spine as he tilted your head to expose the sensitive skin. You didn't resist. Instead, you leaned into him, the invitation clear. He nuzzled into your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he inhaled deeply, pulling in your scent like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

He moaned low in his chest, the sound dark and desperate. "You drive me fucking crazy," he murmured, his voice rough with need. His lips brushed against the curve of your neck as his hands gripped your shoulders, pulling you impossibly closer. Your hands found their way to the solid muscle of his back, digging into him, desperate to feel him press even harder into you.

"Always pushing my buttons," he whispered against your skin, his lips grazing the spot behind your ear. The kiss was brief but hot, his breath leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

His fingers traced down the curve of your collarbone, each touch a slow burn. Then he pressed a kiss to the birthmark just beneath your neck, the softness of his lips sending a wave of heat through you.

A smile tugged at your lips, your voice breathless but teasing. "Kee—keep it interesting," you murmured, the words barely escaping as you leaned into him, your body alive with the need for him, the intensity of the moment.

The smile that curled at the corner of his lips was dark, knowing. "You always make it interesting," he breathed, his grip tightening as his lips found the curve of your jaw, kissing, nipping, tasting, as if he were unable to get enough of you.

"In-ho," you whispered, your voice trembling with need, each syllable thick with desire as his hands worked deftly to unbutton your shirt.

He paused for a moment, his breath heavy against the tension in the air, his voice a low, guttural murmur that sent shivers down your spine. "What do you need?" he asked, the words slipping from his lips with a quiet, possessive urgency. "Tell me."

The soft fabric of your white blouse fell to the floor with a soft rustle, and the moment it did, he took a step back, his eyes scanning your body as though he were a starving man and you were the feast.

His gaze lingered on the red lace beneath, the intricate pattern teasing, daring him to reveal more. The heat in his eyes was palpable, intense, and it made your pulse race, your skin burning under the weight of his stare.

You looked up at him, your chest rising and falling with each labored breath, your body aching, yearning for him. The intensity between you was suffocating, the hunger in both of you undeniable.

You didn't need to speak it, but the words slipped from your mouth anyway, low and filled with need, each one wrapped in a desperate ache. "Fuck me," you whispered, the plea slipping out with a rawness that left no room for doubt.

His room was tidy, the faint scent of wood and something rich lingering in the air, but you barely registered the details as he tossed you onto the soft sheets of his bed. The coolness of the fabric met your back, but it was quickly forgotten when he moved to pin you exactly where he wanted you.

Before he could settle into the position, however, you swiftly hooked your leg around his, using the momentum to flip him onto his back. You wasted no time, straddling him with a predatory smirk as you climbed on top, the feeling of power surging through you.

In an instant, you tore his shirt from his body, the fabric ripping free with a satisfying sound. You didn't care where it landed—only that it was gone, leaving him exposed beneath you. His chest rose and fell with quickened breath as you dragged your hands up and down his muscles. He shot you a look that was a mixture of surprise and challenge.

Protesting, he sat up quickly, attempting to regain control, but you were already wrestling him back down, your hands gripping his shoulders, pressing him firmly into the mattress. You could feel his strength beneath you, the tension in his body as he fought for dominance—but you weren't letting him win this time.

Your finger trailed slowly across the sharp line of his jaw, the motion deliberate and teasing, a soft caress that contradicted the fire of the moment. You leaned down, your lips just a whisper away from his ear as you purred, "I'm in control, though."

The words hung in the air, a follow-up to your plea in the kitchen. It wasn't a request—it was a declaration. You were taking the reins now, and he could either follow, or feel the consequences.

You worked at his pants, undoing the leather belt and pulling it free. He rested an arm behind his head, propping up to watch with a sly smirk.

You ignored it; Ignored him with only one goal in mind.

As his pants found their place on the floor, followed by yours, your hand slipped beneath the remaining black fabric that hugged his waist to grab him in your hand. The soft touch of your hand released a moan from him, making your gaze snap to his.

You sneered with an idea, crawling up to him, your hair dangling.

After how many times he's pissed you off today, the least you could do is make him beg.

Make him plead for you to suck his cock.

Before you could get a word out, he grabbed at your waist, throwing you beside him on the bed, finding his place between your thighs with a strong grip on your jaw.

"I don't think so." He expressed with a firm tone, catching onto your intended vision of him.

You huffed, "You suck the joy out of everything, I-" Three fingers pushed into you before you could finish. They were thick and felt delectable as they curled into that perfect spot, making you mewl. "God, you're wet." He praised as you threw your head back against the silk pillow, his hand finding a home around your neck, squeezing gently. He rested his head on your collarbone as he worked into you with purpose.

Everything about this was savory; everything.

But you wanted that command, that control, for the right reasons.

Not to stir the pot. Not to spite him.

No, tonight, you only wanted to be the reason for his release.

You pushed against him with all your might, your hands pressing against his chest, trying to create the space you needed. But he wasn't budging, not an inch—his body like stone, solid and unyielding. You could feel the tension in every muscle of his frame, the resistance in his eyes, as though he knew exactly what you were trying to do, knew that if he gave you even a small amount of control, you'd take far more.

Confusion then flickers in his eyes, as he goes still from the look you give him.

You held a genuine countenance, alluding that you weren't playing your provoking games anymore.

You were sincere in your efforts.

With that, the tension leaves his body. You take the opportunity, sitting up to resume your original position, and his hands slide around your hips, ripping the lace from your body, following suit with your bra, leaving you completely bare before him. Leaving you vulnerable above him.

His palms cup your breasts, squeezing and tugging as you line yourself up to him, sinking down in one move. He filled you with ease as your moans sounded in perfect harmony together.

His lips were parted, eyes closed as you began to move, setting a snappy pace. You whined at the feeling as he slipped in and out. "God you feel good," He taunted with a huff, "If only we'd fought each other earlier." You gasped as he hit the sweet spot inside you, making you writhe. Noticing your reaction, his hands guided you in perfect sync as he hit that spot again and again.

"Fuck, I-I thin-" He shot up, wrapping his right arm around you, his other steadying him on the bed, He hissed, "fuck, me too". He attached his lips to one of your breasts, "Cum for me," he whispered, a palm flat against your lower back, pulling you in more, as your releases shattered through the two of you. Crying out, you held him there as he practically whined against you. Your grip on him was like iron, as your release left you breathless.

Remaining as you were, he pulled back slightly, his gaze lifting to meet yours. There was something softer now, something that had shifted in the quiet space between breaths.

Your hands instinctively cradled his cheeks, the touch tender. Your nose brushed against his, a gentle graze. The warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the quiet, steady rhythm of his breath—this was the calm after the storm.

Neither of you spoke, the silence hanging in the air like a promise, like an unspoken understanding that everything had changed.

Time had slowed. It was just the two of you, the world outside forgotten, lost in the quiet intimacy of the space you'd created. No more tension, no more walls. Just the softness of the moment, the closeness, and the link that had been forged between you.

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