#be careful with alcohol ya’ll
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Rule Number 3: Never let Blue drink liquor
I shouldn’t have finished this quickly but I’m a procrastinator so obviously that had to happen- Anyways, here is a long awaited Drueswap oneshot, I missed those idiots so much-
Warnings: Alcohol use, abuse/physical violence, breakdowns, mentioned alcoholism and I think that’s it
Synopsis: Blue tries to drink a shot of wine, immediate regret.
***
The fact that Dream used to be an alcoholic was never a secret for Blue. It was actually one of the first things he had searched about him, in case he would have found him drinking during one of his many visits.
Thankfully though, Dream had stopped drinking a long time ago but surprisingly, he still kept his stash of liquor tucked away near his office.
Blue had one day stumbled inside that room and, as curious as he is, he wondered how it would feel like to drink. Due to his… special conditions growing up, he never really got the chance to go out with people at parties and never had any friends to do any of that anyways. He knew that alcohol smelled and that the taste was generally not that good. He also knew that people were aware of that. So what made all of these alcoholics continue to drink even though they knew it wasn’t good for their health?
He wanted answers and Blue was the type of man to push until he got what he wanted.
He was usually the type to conduct a thorough research about a subject before experimenting right away but today, he deemed that little experiment of his harmless enough not to proceed as he usually would. In case of problems, Dream was just in the next room anyway.
He looked over the impressive number of bottles placed next to one another before he eventually reached for a random one, not really noticing how old it was. He looked around and soon found the glass he was looking for, he grabbed one and started to pour the wine into it.
He was being careful, he just wanted to taste it after all, not get drunk. He had no clue how he would be drunk and he didn’t intend to find out, it scared him far too much.
What he didn’t take into account however was the fact that alcohol was supposed to be drunk slowly but also the fact that wine entered the bloodstream way faster than beer, making it relatively easy for someone to get drunk.
At first, he didn’t feel much but a few seconds later, he started feeling dizzy, a little warm even. He tried to shake the feeling off but it didn’t go and instead made him stumble a bit forward.
It felt like a fog had taken over his brain and he was walking out of the room with a weird limp, giggling quietly all the while.
Surprisingly, Dream wasn’t sitting behind his desk and working but was instead hunched over his phone on the couch, seemingly watching a video about animals, if the smile on his face was anything to go by.
Blue stopped, just staring at him for a few seconds. He had always found Dream pretty and still does, especially when he was looking genuinely happy like that, but he felt really weird right now like there was something tight in his chest that didn’t like what he was seeing.
He briefly wondered if it was about the alcohol, after all, it had already made him tipsy with just a shot of it. How far-stretched was it if it made him feel weird in the chest as well? He was starting to regret not searching things about that or at least asking Dream, he knew how the last time he didn’t inquire his opinion ended up as and he was not quite thrilled to relive the same thing.
He called out to him or at least thought he did. In reality, his mouth moved but no sound came out of it, explaining why Dream didn’t react to it. At the other’s lack of reaction, Blue frowned. He tried again, no sound. He still didn’t realize his voice wasn’t coming out of his chords and just felt like Dream was ignoring him.
In normal terms, Blue would simply pout or feel a bit upset about that. But right now, his mind was a mess and the alcohol was getting to his head, throwing any rational thought out the window.
He started to breathe a little funny.
This whole situation suddenly triggered a memory from his subconscious that he was sure had been lost to time. He was… how old was he at the time? 10? Maybe 12? He had no idea. He only knew that it was a bad day for him, an awful one even like most of his days spent with his brother.
That morning, Papyrus had dragged him by the ear to the store, finally letting him out of the house he was usually secluded in. Blue found that suspicious at first but after finally stepping out of the building, that wariness faltered a little to be replaced by happiness. It was the first time in forever since he had gone out and felt grass beneath his feet instead of the cold hard and bloody floor of his room and he was feeling something similar to euphoria.
He was so happy in fact that during their outing, he accidentally let go of an item that dropped to the ground and broke. A long silence had ensued. Blue was shaking but desperately tried to compose himself. They were in public, surely, he wouldn’t try anything here right?
He was wrong, so terribly wrong.
Papyrus started yelling at him, openly insulting him in front of a huge crowd that looked away, some people even left him there, hurrying out of the aisle to hide in the next one.
That’s when he landed the first hit. It was a slap.
The sound of the slap echoed inside the aisle and Blue took a few seconds to realize what just happened. It didn’t even hurt. It was just shocking and unexpected. At one point, he didn’t remember when, but he had found himself on the floor, his back aching and products scattered around him like confetti.
He saw Papyrus walk toward him, pissed off, and his intentions clear: he was going to kick him. In front of everyone.
Panic washed over him and he looked over at the previous crowd gathering around them with teary eyes, searching for any sympathetic gaze, just one would have done the job.
He found none as most people had left. The ones who did stay weren’t looking at him and were simply choosing an item from a shelf, as if there wasn’t a boy getting beat up just a few inches away from there.
Papyrus’s foot collided with his stomach and he gasped, pain taking over him. He desperately tried to get away, to get help but no matter how many times he reached out, no one turned to look at him. It felt like he was invisible to them.
Look at me!
He let out a sob when he felt Papyrus’s hand wrapped around his throat and lifting him up. His eyes bore into Blue’s and the latter swore he could see the tiniest glint of amusement in those demonic orange irises.
Please look at me!
He couldn’t support his gaze any longer and so he turned away, once again trying to make eye contact with anyone else in the aisle. He never managed to.
Why won’t you look at me?
His feet dangled in the air uselessly as he grabbed at the hands around his throat. He was going to die. He turned his head one last time to see that people were still ignoring him despite the urgency of the situation.
Why won’t you look at me?!
“LOOK AT ME!” Blue suddenly screamed, making the winged man jump in his seat and almost drop his phone. He didn’t hear Blue arrive. “WHY WON’T YOU LOOK AT ME?!”
His voice was teary and his expression was a strange mix of frustration, fear, anger, despair, and hate. That got Dream to frown, his phone long abandoned on the couch as he walked toward him, trying to get his attention.
“Blue?” No response. He kept screaming, arms wrapped around his stomach. It looked like he was in pain.
“Whywhywhywhywhy—“
“Blue!” The taller shouted, grabbing his shoulders. The intoxicated man jolted, not expecting that, successfully tearing him out of whatever daydream he was having. He stammered, looking in Dream’s direction but not really seeing him. It more so looked like he was seeing through him.
“What…?” He took a step back before whipping his head around in all directions with a fearful look, like he was expecting a serial killer to jump to his throat at any moment. “Where is…?” He didn’t finish the sentence, letting it die in the atmosphere.
Dream didn’t say anything, his face scrunched. He had just noticed the familiar scent of alcohol and knowing that he had not touched a single drop of one in decades, it was definitely not from him. He looked at Blue in concern and only just realized that the door to his previous hiding spot from reality was wide open.
Something clicked in his brain. He walked around Blue, closing the door shut before dragging the other to the couch. The entire duration of that, Blue didn’t know how he was feeling. His mind was so fuzzy and he was so confused…
He seemed to be spacing out but before he could fall too far, Dream snapped his fingers in front of his face, jolting him awake yet again. Blue seemed to finally process Dream actually being here and looking at him, if the fact he just threw himself at his neck was any indication of that.
“I’m sorry—“ He breathed out, shaking. “I don’t know— I don’t understand— Please don’t ignore me again I’ll do anything please-“ Dream hugged back, one of his hands tracing a circle under the other’s hoodie. That seemed to soothe him. The smell of wine was even more obvious this close.
“I wasn’t ignoring you.” He almost whispered a hand coming to pet Blue’s hair. “I’m sorry if I gave you the impression I was.” The shorter one melted at that and sank down on Dream, a purr escaping him.
“Dream…” Blue frowned, he forgot what he wanted to say. That didn’t normally happen. “Can we stay like this a little more? I’m sleepy.”
The politician pulled away, before shifting their position so that Blue’s back was pressed against his chest and his head resting on his shoulder. “Isn’t that a bit better?” Blue nodded before he looked up at Dream.
“You’ll look at me, right?” The winged man arched an eyebrow, why was he obsessing over this verb today? Should he ask? As an answer, he nodded, cupping his cheek with one hand.
Blue snuggled that hand, loving how warm it felt against his skin. Dazed happiness replaced the gripping fear from before. Dream watched Blue’s eyes flutter shut as the latter nuzzled his hand, reminiscing his expression when he heard him yell the first time.
His eyes narrowed. He’s gonna have to have a conversation with him when sobers up later. He blinked when he heard the sound of soft snoring beneath him. He looked down and noticed that Blue had already fallen asleep, probably tired because of the alcohol.
Dream cringed internally. He was going to regret everything after he woke up, subject to one nasty hangover. He could only hope he was ready to face a post-drunk Blue who would, without a doubt, be in a murderous mood soon.
#dreamswap#ds dream#fluff#angst#ship#ds blue#drueswap#ds dreamberry#ds drue#ds drueswap#ds dream x ds blue#i need more content about this ship#i will go down with this ship#hurt/comfort#blue needs help#dream also needs help#everyone needs help#dream missed work that day#be careful with alcohol ya’ll
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Their naughty thoughts of you 🐚🙊
I most definitely am not apologizing for making this post 😤we all get a lil freaky sometimes. Anyway hope ya’ll enjoy! Feel free to like comment and reblog. 18+
divider creds: @fairytopea
Pile 1: Welcome my little friend 😈 anyway ya’ll this is cute. My fluffy and sweet pile. They wanna see you self pleasure and you probably smell really good, so they really like that. They wanna see you dripped out in lingerie, or anything that makes you feel confident and just touch yourself in front of them. There’s something about that fantasy that gets them going. And they also fantasize about cuddling you, definitely have a praise kink 🙊 I am calling this person out—they’re like a teddy bear in bed and they do wanna be close to you as physically as they can. This person would romance you first 😮💨 and then get dirty. They care about feelings soo, booty call with feelings kinda vibe 🥺 and they also won’t hesitate to give you water whilst they’re doing you, like “hey you need some of this?” 😭 helpp. They’re funny too. I feel like even in bed they fantasize about awkward cute moments between ya’ll. This is making me gush they are cute lol. Yall could never dating or haven’t done sexual stuff yet, but they definitely think about owning your heart first and worshipping you as you are! They’d take their time and kiss everywhere and make sure you’re all comfortable in bed or where else ya’ll prefer doing the dirty 😭 I also feel like they fantasize about making you cry their name and have you be an emotional mess (in a good way) from all the pleasure. Whoo. Pile 1. There you have it 👀 a lil something spicy. Hope yall enjoyed and feel free to like comment and reblog 🤍
Pile 2: My god pile 2 is it me or is the tension hot on both sides 😭 the person you’re asking about and you. I feel like both of yall have such strong vivid imaginations and wild ideas. I heard it goes both ways, so its not one person if you need confirmation. I feel like your person idolizes you, I heard maneater so they definitely see you as someone to worship. And not just anyone but a divine being. I feel like they wanna do everything right by you—even if it means being submissive to you. They’d fall to their knees for you 😤 this is the kinda energy they’re bringing!! And we’re not complaining 🥺 love to see it. I feel they fantasize about kissing messily, grabbing each other up and pressing everywhere. And fingering, lots of exploring. They wanna feel all the juices everywhere. And I think they fantasize about blowjobs, or at least having their fluids in your mouth. They just want to see the visual of it and replay it over and over. They fantasize about sitting in a chair whilst your between their legs, and they succumb to your touch. Like you’re just their devouring them and they have no choice but to take it 😭 maneater vibes fr. And I also feel like they’re kinda shy about their fantasies which makes it cuter but they want it. They want it to happen. I think they hide it a lot from you and put on a stoic face but deep down they cant ignore their freak!! Their freak is calling them 😩 “is somebody gonna match my freak” help. Its playing in my head 😭 anyway pile 2 yall get a room and get it on or something, hope yall liked this. Feel free to like and comment and reblog 🥰
Pile 3: hey guys, what is this? Damsel in distress fantasy? 😭 guys I feel like your person has a fantasy where you come running to them and you just want in on their world. Like consumed by all their pleasure and wanting only them. Its giving they want you to be hooked and obsessed on their energy, and the way they do you. They want you coming back for more. I have no idea if anyone here is into threesomes—someone here likes that. Also getting high or drinking alcohol might be something they fantasize about. It’s also giving daddy kink like ddlg, I picked up on. I heard pet play too. Im not judging just writing whatever spirit is telling me ☕️ I feel like they dream about you joining their sex filled world. Like this person could be experienced and they fantasize about showing you all the things they know and teaching you—and its like this thing where they help you reach your release because they know your body. They know where to touch and please you. I don’t know if some of yall never had sex before, but I’m picking that vibe too. I feel like this person is possessive of you in bed and only wants your attention on them. They want you completely focused on them. Geez this is intense! 😮💨 it’s giving Scorpio and strong mars energy. Maybe they have a lot of mars aspects or placement in their chart. But either way—they have lots of stamina. Strong bdsm vibes. And they want to spend lots of time doing foreplay to draw it out before finally giving in. Only when you’re comfortable. Like I see a feather being trailed down your spine and teasing you—this person KNOWS. Anyway yall, be safe always & at your discretion, have fun 😈 hope yall liked! Feel free to like comment and reblog to help this blog grow.
Thank yall sm for reading! Definitely bringing in that nsfw vibe 😈 hope yall enjoyed the freakiness. 18+ only 👀
Extra 🤍
Paid readings 🤍
#astrology community#devi post#astrology#tarotcommunity#divination#tarot deck#tarot#witchcraft#tarot reading#astro posts#astrology notes#astro notes#tarot readings#tarot readers#tarotdaily#pick a card#pick a pile#pick a picture#tarot community#astrology observations#pick a card romance#pick one#witchblr#tarot recommendation
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𝓓𝓲𝓿𝓮 ᯓᡣ𐭩
kiss below the line…
a/n: i hate him but at the same i ain’t mind letting him tap 😋 also using colored panels for now cause it’s cuter tee hee
・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───
18+ !! MINORS DNI
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───
cw: p in v sex, oral sex, afab!reader, reader lowk a top here but sanji gets a tad bit of confidence towards the end, sanji know how to eat that kitty 🙏, reader a FREAK, call this man sanji freaksmoke ong 💀🙏, reader wears a bikini, no set arc, risky public sex, they fuck in a secluded area but still open to public, porn WITH plot
tags ✮⋆˙ smut, afab!reader x sanji, beach date, p in v bby, no set arc - no spoilers
now playing: dive - victoria monét
After a long strenuous journey of hopping from island to island, you suggested the crew stop at a tropical resort for a few days to rest and gather supplies for the Sunny. Liberating islands from tyrannical rule and going against from oppressive government is tiring…Well guess what? It’s time the Strawhats get a well deserved break!
“Hmm, yea sure,” your rubber captain shrugged.
“Wow, you didn’t really think that through did ya, Luffy?”
“No, you’re right. After a long battle, I’m pretty beat plus…”
“Plus?”
“A seafood boil sounds nice,” he laughed as he rubbed his rumbling belly.
Robin chuckled at Luffy’s expression, “Well, since us devil fruit power users can’t swim in the water, I wouldn’t mind indulging in a nice seafood feast cooked by our skillful chef.”
You suddenly see the pervy chef’s nose start to heave heavily, a few drops of blood trickling down his chin, “OF COURSE, ANYTHING FOR THE BEAUTIFUL LADIES OF OUR SHIP!”
His stance takes a 180 as he faces the men of the crew, “The men have to hunt for their own food.”
Zoro looks at him with annoyance, “Hey! Can I at least get some sake?!”
Luffy pouts, “No fair! I want to relax like the girls too!”
“Well, real men hunt for their own food!”
You sighed, “Sanji, relax, the guys worked hard at the last island. Cut ‘em some slack will ya?”
His demeanor changed as soon as you spoke, “OH MY DEAR, [NAME], YOU ARE SO RIGHT.”
“Alright, fine, since we’re going to have a seafood boil, I gotta gather some ingredients.”
“A spectacular feast created by our lovely cook, my mouth is watering just thinking about it, if I had any saliva…YOHOHOHO!”
“Then, it’s settled! Nami, set course for [insert cool island here]!”
“Right away, captain!” The beautiful tangerine-haired girl yelled back.
————
The summer sun shone upon the golden sand, the crystal blue water crashing upon the shore as the coconut trees swayed to the calming wind. The resort is occupied by many beach goers as children ran along the hot sand with beach balls, men clinked their beers, and ladies were served fancy mojitos. The smell of grilled meat lingered the air as barbecue parties took place nearby.
You reveled in the moment until hearing your captain’s booming voice destroy your peace of mind.
“WOOHOO!”
“LUFFY, DON’T GO IN THE WATER, YOU CAN’T-”
The rubber boy struggled to keep afloat in the water has he gargled for help, “HELP! HELP!”
“swim…” You facepalmed.
“I got it…” The green haired swordsman immediately dived into the water before rescuing your struggling captain.
“Captain, be more careful, will ya?”
He coughed up seawater, “Bleghhh, Zoro, I might throw up on you…”
“LIKE HELL YOU WILL!”
You decided to sit with the girls when the blonde cook approached all of you. He sported black swimtrunks, along with a half-opened tropical shirt while holding a tray full of orange cocktails, “Well, ladies, can I interest ya’ll in some ‘Sex on the Beach’ drinks to quench your thirst?”
The black-haired vixen smiled, “Thanks, Sanji. You really know how to read our minds.”
“Wow, these look refreshing, as expected from our cook!” Nami took a sip of the alcoholic drink.
“No kidding, I was starting to feel a bit parched myself,” you smiled.
Sanji covered his nose to prevent a nose bleed from coming out, “Ladies, Ladies, no need to thank me. Just doing my job.” He smiled to himself as he replayed the compliments in his head.
You looked at him with concern, “Hey, Sanji. How’s ingredient gathering going for ya?”
“Huh? Oh, I’ve been trying to catch some fish and crab for the last 30 minutes but I think the amount of people here are scaring them away.”
“Hmm, hey! I can help you look for a secluded spot for fishing!” You cheerfully suggested to him.
“Oh, I can’t let a lovely lady like you get up and help me out like this!”
You chuckled, “No worries, I’d rather walk around then sit down doing nothing.”
“Well…I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have extra help.”
————
You sealed the bucket full of prawns before setting it aside and sitting down on the dampening sand, “Wow, we caught a lot today! We’re gonna be eating tonight, aren’t we?” You looked at the remaining gold rays of light slowly disappear in beyond the horizon.
He laughed at your amusement, “I should start cooking soon if we’re gonna serve this on time for the crew to start feasting.”
You attempted to carry the heavy bucket of freshly caught prawns, but it proved to be difficult with the sandy environment preventing better movement in your legs.
He noticed your struggle with the filled container, “Need any help?” He walked towards your sinking figure in the moist sand, lantern in hand to illuminate the darkened atmosphere.
“Ah, no, no! It’s ok!”
“Come on, [Name]. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“No, really, I can manage-”
“I’ll just grab this part-”
“Sanji! It’s gonna-“
Splash
“…fall,” your once dried figures now soaked with sea water as both of you guys fell backwards into the incoming waves — his trembling body loomed over yours, salty droplets falling onto your face.
The sound of your increasing heart beat pounding in your ears from the closed distances between your bodies. Your eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to his toned abs up close to your face, despite the evening darkness sweeping in to mask the dimming sunset.
You were embarrassed to admit it, but you always had a slight interest in the blonde cook. Sure, you were a little annoyed by his flirtatious attempts and his slightly pervy behavior — yet, in his times of seriousness that complimented his cool, stoic character, it was…quite attractive.
The amount of times you caught yourself staring at him as he cooked the crew’s meals with rolled-up sleeves, or chilling on the ship while lighting the butt of his cigarette. You had to resist the urge to bite your lip then and there.
But, seeing him on top of you while half naked and wet took the final slice of the cake.
“O-oh my god, I’m so sorry! I should’ve listened to you-” The blood rushed to his cheeks and ears to form an embarrassed blush before lifting himself off you.
“Hot damn….” You muttered to yourself.
“Uh…what?”
“Um- Uh, nothing,” you shot him a sheepish smile before lifting yourself up. “It’s all good, I should’ve just accepted your help,” you laugh awkwardly as you drag the fallen bucket.
“Ahem, that would’ve been awkward if anyone in the crew saw us,” he brushed his hand through his blonde locks before searching his pockets for his cigarette box.
You suddenly halt your process of dragging the prawn bucket, an invisible lightbulb lighting upon your head. You turn to the chef before smirking at him,“I wouldn’t mind giving them a show.”
You could practically see his eyes bulging out of his sockets at your flirtatious manner. Who knew the pervy cook would get nervous by one of the only girls in the Strawhats? You wanted to take advantage of this sudden burst of confidence…
You walked up to him, his face producing a red hue on his cheeks as he watched your figure close the proximity between you two. His heartbeat increased at the sight of your practically bikini-clad body swaying in the moonlight. He clutched the cigarette between his teeth…
You look up at his flustered face before stealing the lit cigarette from his lips, a seductive tone poisoned your words, “Can we stay here for a bit?”
The nervous cook gulped, “U-Uh um…why?”
He watched as you took a drag out of his own cigarette before putting it out — He never found anything so sexy in his life; not even when he saw a naked Nami back in Alabasta before.
You harshly pushed his toned figure onto the dry sand before noticing the now obvious bulge in his pants. You were quite pleased by the outcome of this situation as you watched the cook fall to his knees for you — he relished in the sight of you using him. It was kind of different from the way you seen him with other girls. Slowly, you hovered over his body; his eyes glued onto your bikini-covered chest as he felt his mouth become dry.
“I think you know the answer, Sanji…”
————
A needy moan escaped from the cook’s mouth as you caught his lips in a sloppy kiss, your tongue ravaging with his as you grinded your clothed heat on his crotch. His body had become so turned-on from your sudden dominant nature, your touches like a tempting devil.
“[Name]…fuck,” his hands moved to your hips as you continued dry humping his erection.
You caught his lower lip between your teeth, “You’re so fucking sexy when you say my name like that, wanna scream it more for me?” You watched his body shutter as you exchanged the movement of your hips with your rubbing over his hardened bulge.
“A-ah shit, mon chérie, quit teasing me…”
You bit your lip as you continued your edge on his clothed cock, ignoring his pleas for your pussy. You relished in the sight of the blonde begging for your attention. You rubbed his erection in a faster pace, grabbing the outline of his size — he groaned at your intense touch.
A sly smirk creeped onto your face as you guided his hand under your skimpy bikini top, his hand instinctively squeezing the soft mound of flesh, brushing over your now hardened nipple. A soft moan left your mouth as you felt his rough hand roll the pearl between his fingers. You slapped his hand away with a smirk on your face.
You slowly shoved two fingers into his mouth, feeling the warmth of his tongue sucking and licking them, “Wanna show me what that mouth can do?”
You remove your bikini bottom, revealing the transparent slick trail of your arousal connecting from your pussy to the dampened cloth. You toss it to the side before hovering your crotch over his flustered face.
You harshly grabbed his face, “Make me cum and maybe I’ll give ya a reward.”
“…Yes, ma’am…”
You cautiously lowered your hips onto his face before you felt strong hands hastily grab your hips and slam you down. A yelp came out of you at the sudden pressure of your crotch rubbing on his face.
The warmness of his tongue desperately overlapping over your needy hole as you bit your lip to conceal the sounds of your impending pleasure. The sound of the crashing salt water colliding with the sand had become quieter as the sun died down and the moonlight became brighter.
The sound of sloppy wetness overtaking your hearing as he fucked his tongue inside you. You face twisting from the overbearing sensation of pleasure took over your body as you grinded your cunt further into his face, the feeling of his nose rubbing against your sensitive clit, the smell of your arousal radiating off your warm body.
He lapped his tongue over your erected bud as sucked you off like a starved man. He groaned as he pulled your hips harder onto his face with need, his grip tightening around you. — He became obsessed with the taste of you and he was wanting more.
He slid his hands over the fleshy mounds of your ass before spreading them apart for better access. The speed of his tongue fastening had jolted the nerves of your body, your back arching from the overstimulation on your abused clit.
“S-Sanji! Oh god, keep going!” You cried out in pleasure. The moist sounds of his mouth connected with your saliva-coated cunt.
“Mmm’ Mon chérie, cum on my face,” he groaned as he swiped his tongue over your pulsating hole.
Your core tightened as you felt your approaching climax form into a pit in your stomach, “Then, you better savor it while you can, Blondie.”
He swore he could’ve felt his cock twitch in his swim trunks at the sound of his nickname slipping from your lips. God, the things you do to him…
You swayed your hips to the movement of his hungry tongue as the muscles of your increasingly tightening before you felt the imaginary coil unravel and relax. Your milky liquid leaking out your pulsating hole, smothering over the cook’s face.
He released the suction of mouth over your erected bud with the sound of a pop. His chin had been covered in his own saliva and your arousal. He huffed and puffed as he caught his breath. The taste of your cum lingered as on his lips as he licked them without shame.
“Good boy, I think it’s time I give you your reward,”you shifted your body off his face, the feeling of the cold grainy sand resting below your knees as you lowered your face over his crotch.
A surprised moan escaped the cook’s tainted lips as you pressed light kissed over his erection, the taste of ocean salt overtaking your taste buds. You could practically feel his wanting cock straining along the restraints of his wet as it ached for your touch.
You grabbed the hem of his trunks, peeling the fabric to reveal his touch-starved cock — it had a slight curve to it, the circumcised tip supporting a swollen redness as it leaked precum, his shaft with a few veins trailing down to his nicely-groomed happy trail of blonde hair surrounding it, his balls desperately awaiting to be emptied from all the edging you did to him.
“Nice cock, dude.”
“Haha, very funny, [Name],” he sarcastically rolled his eyes.
“I’m being serious, Sanji,” you swipe your index finger over the dripping slit of his tip.
A grunt escaped his lips as you flicked his sensitive cock in a teasing manner; Your hand running down his shaft before slowly fisting his cock in your hand. That fucking smug smirk painted on your face that drove him insane the entire time.
Your hand moved up and down faster as you watched his face twist from pleasure, his body jerking from the sudden jolts of electricity running in his body from your touch — You swiped your tongue over the flushed head, savoring the taste of the transparent liquid as you continued your pace on his shaft. A sharp hiss escaped through his teeth as you rubbed and squeezed his sensitive balls in the process; god, he was about to burst then and there.
He gripped the sand below him as you brought him to the edge of his orgasm, you enjoyed the amount of overstimulation you brought to his cute face as his curly brows scrunched together in pleasure. You bit your lip as you felt his cock twitch in your hand before-
“Sanjiiiii! [Name]! Where are you?? I’m hungry!!” You hear Luffy’s voice in the distance.
The cook looked back at you in horror, in fear that both of you guys were about to get caught by your captain. Luckily, you were out of sight from your rubber captain due to the steep rock wall that separated you and Sanji from him. You shot him a devious look as you continued your movement on his needy cock, “Gonna answer?”
Oh, fuck you.
“W-We’re still busy fishing so g-go away!” He yelled back with nervousness.
He bit the inside of his cheek as you engorged his cock into your mouth, the salty taste of his precum filling your taste buds as you slobbered over the tip and shaft.
“Well, hurry up already!!” the hurried tone of your captain’s voice echoing in the distance.
The cook groaned in annoyance, “SH- SHUT UP AND BE PATIENT OR ELSE ITS VEGETARIAN FROM NOW O-ON!!!”
“AGHH FINEEEE…”
A small snort escaped through your nose as you heard their short banter. Sanji was such a cutie patootie when he got mad at the crew you thought to yourself.
That’s probably why you enjoy seeing the cook moaned and whimpered as he submitted to your touch, wanting more of your attention from you. <3
He felt as if he could cum to the vibrations of your gagging alone as you struggled to swallow his cock whole, hitting the gag reflex that sat in the back of your throat. What didn’t help was when you caressed his swollen balls, squeezing them as if they were putty in your hands. They tensed at your touch as they added onto the ongoing stimulation on his messy cock.
He bit his lip while grabbing tufts of your hair as he felt the euphoric climax slowly creep towards his tip as you continued sucking him like a summertime popsicle.
Just when he was about to release his seed, you halted your action; releasing his cock with a pop as it bounced towards his abdomen. His cock twitched with impatience as it awaited more of your stimulation. The tip redder than before as it begged to release its seed.
He huffed, “Mon chérie…wha… what are you doing?”
You hovered over him before whispering in his ear, “I’m gonna ride you, that’s what i’m gonna do.” You bit his ear before aligning yourself over his cock.
You slammed on his cock, causing both of ya’ll to gasp in pleasure as you felt the gumminess of your walls swallow his size. He grabbed the fat of your ass as you bucked your hips up and down.
“Oh god! Oh yes!” You cried out as you felt him match his hip movements with yours.
Your pussy was practically a perfect mold for him as you sought to reach that euphoric feeling of edging to your arrival. You became obsessed with the feeling of his tip kissing your cervix as each thrust became deeper and rougher. You swore you saw a tear well up in his ducts as you watched his face become a moaning mess.
“Hah, oh fuck! K-Keep going at this speed, I might cum inside you…” He squeezed your ass harder as he kissed and sucked the skin on your collar bone.
“S-Sanji- hah!” You felt his lips lick the soft flesh of your chest as he moved his hands towards the underside of the fabric triangles, pushing them upwards to reveal the dark pearls of your cherries.
“Sanji!” You screamed his name as you felt the warm sensation of his tongue lap over your erected nipples. Now you’re the one being a victim to overstimulation.
He groaned as he made out with your right nipple while pinching your left one, the friction leaving you speechless as you were left in a moaning mess. He clenched your the soft mound as he felt your moist walls squeeze around his cock.
“You’ve been teasing me this whole time, I couldn’t help but retaliate…” He left your right boob with purple marks around your now tender nipples. He shifted his attention towards your left boob as he sucked and bit your dark pearl, enough to send electricity towards your pussy.
“Mmm’ you taste so divine, Mon chérie…This is way better than some seafood boil.” He loved the way you clenched on his cock as he sucked your sensitive nipple.
No amount of crashing ocean waves nor the sound of seagulls squawking under the illuminated night sky could muffle out the sounds of sloppy slaps and moans of the heated moment you both shared. You cried out his name in hiccups as he continued the movement of his hips guiding his cock towards your cervix, increasing his speed.
“Sanji, Sanji, Sanji…i’m gonna cum!” You were going dizzy at his hypnotizing movements.
“Fuck, me too…Can I cum on that pretty face of yours, Mon chérie?”
You nodded as you felt that familiar tightening feeling in your abdomen of your impending orgasm had . The thought of releasing on his cock was racing in your mind as you wanted to savor the sensation the next time you had the “urge.”
You gripped his shoulders as you arched your back to the ripping feeling of your toe-curling release, a cry for pleasure escaped your lips as you felt your abused walls clench around him. — thick, white…it poured from your used hole as it coated on his twitching member, waiting to come as well.
He groaned at the sight of his cock being covered in your slick, like a used sex toy. He fisted his cock, your cum serving as lubrication to relieve himself.
He chanted your name in mutters as he took in the sight of your fucked-out face, sporting a tomato red and a trail of saliva dripping down your chin as you huffed and puffed for air. His hand instinctively stroked faster as the aftermath of your face around him even more. He let out a groan as he felt the nerves in his shaft jolt as ropes of hot cum spurt from his reddened tip.
You smirked as you watched the white fluid land on your face along with your hickey-covered chest. You didn’t want to lie when you felt surprised by how much spilled out of him—embarrassing amount continued to drip onto the sand from his now sensitive cock.
You bit your lip, “Didn’t tell me you had that much in ya.”
His face became flushed, “It’s not my fault, I was pent up from how much you edged me today!”
“You’re really hot when you’re hard at work, I couldn’t help seeing you in such a submissive state,” you stuck your tongue at him.
His heart skipped a beat at your embarrassing words, “MY LOVE, I’LL LET YOU DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO ME IF IT MAKES YOU HAPPY.”
And…he’s back to his usual self.
The chef’s ears perk up as he hears rustling from the nearby coconut trees. You noticed his reaction before your attention redirected towards the origin of the sound.
“What the hell, where am I?
The mosshead looked towards your direction as he noticed the two figures in the distance, immediately recognizing the both of you.
Both you and Sanjj’s mouth dropped open before you guys scrambled on the sandy floor, readjusting your swimsuits and jumping in the cold salty waters to wash off the evidence. In the back of your mind, you wanted to cry of embarrassment; the thrill of almost getting caught was exhilarating itself. However, getting caught a a different story.
“Go away, moss head! We’re trying to fish in peace over here!” The blonde cook yelled at the swordsman.
Zoro smirked, “You sure this is fishing, cause last time I checked, you’re supposed to have your clothes on.”
Both you and Sanji looked at each other with an embarrassed blush on your face before quickly diverting your faces knowing the opposite direction.
“Zoro, you can’t tell anyone…” You softly pleaded.
The swordsman yawned, “I don’t really care, I was tryna find curly brow since Luffy was getting antsy about the food.”
“Oh and I was wondering where you kept the sake.”
The cook facepalmed himself, “You fucking drunk…it’s in the wine cabinet now go away.”
The swordsman yawned again, “Wow, thanks I guess. I’ll let yall do your thing but hurry up cause the captain looks like he’s about to munch on our emergency food (chopper).”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll get started once [Name] and I bring our shellfish catch back to the ship.”
You sighed in annoyance, “Let’s just get out of here.”
As the three of you walked back, the little devil on your shoulder caused you to land a nice smack on Sanji’s ass. He turned around with surprised look on his face while rubbing the impacted area. You shot a smug smirk at the cook before doing the “p in v” gesture with your fingers.
He smirked before giving you a wink. You quietly giggled before whispering in his ear, “Let’s do this again, but more private.
#one piece#fanfic#smut#one piece smut#oneshot#vinsmoke sanji#sanji x reader#black leg sanji#sanji smut#one piece fanfiction
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put it on me | d.t x reader x r.t | vampire au | bloody baby au
an: heyyy ya’ll missed me? had a tove lo song stuck in my head it’s talking body.
synopsis: baby knows she has been made to forget, she knows they are pretending to, everything is alright but is it?
warning: overconsumption of alcohol, compelling, argument.
You were dead sure something was off, like visually not a hair out of place but you just knew, like a nagging intuition burning holes into your stomach. Though it could have been the last shot oqf tequila you took.
They let you off the fucking island, it made no sense. What four months of playing a captured princess and out of nowhere “Go birdie go fly and be free.” something was off it was sour milk in your mouth. One could even say it was because you were touch deprived, but the more shocking detail to take note of was the lack of puncture marks in your body. This wasn’t some insecurity bullshit again, this was them hovering over you from the balconies watching you dance with you friends and not lifting a finger to feel you up.
Absurd isn't it?
Something happened, you can only feel it in your dreams, something deeply wrong— something that you were not supposed to see but you hadn't been compelled, at least you think you weren’t. You simply woke up in their bed three weeks and they’ve pretended like you would break from a single touch, and they watch you—constantly. When you eat, when you read on the lawn and sometimes you could swear they watch you sleep.
This uneasiness was tearing at you, were they done with you? Their own martial relations seemed to be a little too close, they always were but you never felt left out but now you did, you felt nervous even to walk up to Rhaenyra for a hug in the morning. And now this.
A taste of caged freedom. Freedom.
Who knew you'd grow so fond of the cage that housed you, a golden stone castle far from any life you’ve ever seen? Yet here you were now, at a cheap club your friends and you had graced every weekend after working on your thesis to chug fireballs and vodka.
Freedom? That's what the wanted you to feel, to help you transition back to your mortal life. Well then, a taste of it should have been fair for all. So you didn't hesitate after pulling another bill from your bra and ordering another round for your girlfriends. You loved them, you missed them, but right now your sense of celebration wasn't for them. As the bitter liquid burned at your throat, you shot daggers at the balconies again and disappeared into the crowd.
Deep in the sea of sweaty bodies jumping with no care in the world, thick into where the intentions of every one were similar, “We’re free game” You didn't care who touched you, just as way before when you didn't. You never know the person, hell you couldn't even make out their face from the lights but you felt the hands, the grinding.
It did feel freeing, compelled or not, you could do it— slip further into the crowd and just slip out of this dingy club. Disappear with the money and ID tucked into the lining of your bra, they won't find you. Strom City was far too vast to find a little scorned soul nearing the bottom of the bottle. You closed your eyes and just felt the music and the alcohol making you feel weightless, you lifted your hands into your hair to cook the back of your neck as you continued to sway, a stranger’s beer can pressed to the back of it. You smiled at your friends dancing, reaching for the coolers in one of their hands and took a big swig. You could feel the bile at the back of your throat, but you knew you'd been fine if you just kept dancing.
You could still feel hands on you and yet no faces, it wasn't until you turned that you could finally register faces— or well a face.
Daemon stood still amongst the dancing crowd, arms crossed and neck just slightly titled. Silently questioning as to the fuck were you up to.
You didn't stop, looking right at him you kept dancing when the beat dropped stealing the last of your friend’s drink. Hips swaying and still holding your wild hair so you don't overheat, you knew you were playing with fire. What's the worst that could happen? They’d drain you of all blood until there was no life left in you? You’d come to terms with that possibility months ago.
You could feel him nearing, shrugging off the mortal bodies coming in contact with him. You could hear your friends giggling as she reached for your hand and yanked you through the crowd.
“What the fuck were you thinking,” Daemon said, looking very visually irked as he sat comfortably on the hotel couch.
Rhaenyra had barely anything to say but she was angry, you could see it. A conflicted hurt. The rules were clear, they were crystal and you'd broken them.
You scoffed sipping on the glass of water you were forced to drink as you leaned against the bathroom door, still heeled and dizzy. You couldn't digest their discontent when they were ones playing games with you.
“We have very simple rule-”
“Oh fuck your rules!” you cut him off
“It's just bodies isn't it,” you said holding in a hiccup “We are just bodies.”
Rhaenyra opened her mouth but you raised your finger to stop her, stumbling of the bathroom door and walking to the middle of the room.
“How many? How many girls? How many men? I mean fuck!” you shook your head stumbling a bit.
They entertained your outburst, usually you were so placated that this was beyond the unusual.
“Don't you see, you've lived the two of you have each other, have been married for like a forever long time, and me. I'm twenty— human years mortal, simple-bodied.” you tap your head to see if they saw your point.
“I have barely loved, and now that I do—” you hiccup blinking your drunk tears away “its with two blood-sucking—” you stopped yourself laughing.
“I’m just a body to you that you use for fun.” you laugh, mascara tears coating your face.
Rhaenyra finally speaks “that is not true.”
You scoff once more, this time breaking the glass of water you'd been drinking against the bedstand “Turn me then.”
Daemon turned his face, looking out the window and Rhaenyra now stood shaking her head at you.
You could feel the glass imbedded into your palm, you raised the broken shard at her— lil quivering. “Turn me.”
“Turn me.” it sounds like a pathetic prayer.
This time Daemon turned to you, eyes narrowed staring at your bleeding palm, he looked at his wife. He knew this would have come to this conclusion, it always does.
You knew you’d die soon, whether it was to come back as one of them or dead for good. You’d made your peace with it a week before, pouring your heart out in the pages of your journal. Though what were you expecting, that the sex with you was that good that they’d have you around for a life time.
You served one purpose for them, to be their walking blood bag, a toy for them to use and dress as they pleased.
“Turn me.” you said once more.
This time Daemon pushed off the couch, he was in front of you within a blink of an eye, nostrils flared as he grabbed the back of your hair and yanked it back.
“You want to sell your soul that bad? You’d break even before it began sweet girl. The pain of the turn, but sure since you want it that bad.” he bit into the back of his hand and pressed it to your mouth.
The taste of bitter copper filled your mouth, it was true human blood tasted far sweeter, and you’d tasted it on their lips countless times. Your own blood.
“Daemon stop.” Rhaenyra said this time, approaching her husband.
He did not budge, still staring your soul down as he pulled the glass shard from your hand. He didn't hesitate to press it against your carotid artery, the faintest if pressure and he’d dig in. You bleed out and either come out as one of them or a feral— a demon of sorts. They wouldn't take that risk but Daemon was so done for it.
He knew the truth of what he’d compelled away from you, the attack, the threat that somebody was after them— he feared not for him or Rhaenyra but if they found you. He had thought of turning you a thousand times over, and so had Rhaenyra, though the possibility that you may not make the other side. Not many survive the pain, not many come out looking like their mortal bodies but mangled creatures from hell.
However Daemon had snapped, he grew irked from having to hide the truth, from having to pull away. True he had Rhaenyra to come to with his ails but she would sway him otherwise. Rhaenyra battled the guilt of nearly killing you for days, she still does and cannot touch you without remembering her teeth digging into your flesh. You may not remember it, but she had torn you within an inch of your life.
“Daemon we have to let her go.” Rhaenyra urged.
This time your eyes snapped to her and then back to Daemon.
“No turn me.” you urged, this time pushing yourself against the shard of glass “turn me.”
Daemon threw the shard away, shaking his head as he held your shoulders.
“No no, you're not leaving me.” the panic set into your body, death would have been easier. “Just turn me, I can do it.” you hiccuped.
Rhaenyra this time finally touched you, pulling you closer and embracing you, your senses were completely engulfed by her. The way she smelled, her touch, her hair.
You kept mumbling “no” incoherently as she sat you down on the bed.
Her eyes dilated as she shushed you, you looked at Daemon, his stern expression held pain to it if you looked close enough. He leaned against a wall. He knew Rhaenyra had to be the one to do this.
You felt no pain as Rhaenyra pulled the small pieces of glass from your hand, they were already healing because of Daemon’s blood.
“I’m so sorry my love,” she kissed your palms as she sat them back down onto your lap. “It isn't safe anymore.”
“Please don't,” you pouted, more tears flowing down your cheeks. “Don’t leave.”
“You were away on a vacation in the Summer. Isles, you needed a break. You won't remember us, anything about the past six months, it will be as though time stopped and brought you back to reality.” Rhaenyra whispered, kissing your forehead.
“Please.” you cried.
“The pain you feel now will be gone, we will be gone.” her eyes dilated one more as she shuffled your body back into the bed. “Go to sleep.”
Okie and that's a wrap!! I had so much fun writing this chapter, kinda poured my own breakup pain into it. Either way, I can't wait to start writing more!!
#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen#house of the dragon#hotd#daemon targaryen x rhaenyra#daemon Targaryen x reader x rhaenyra Targaryen#daemyra vampir au#vampire!rhaenyra#daemyra vampire au#vampire!daemon#hotd fanfiction#hotd smut#hotd fandom#rhaenyra targaryen x reader#rhaenyra x daemon#rhaenyra targeryan
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white noise / track 1: st. patrick
pairing: lee seokmin x afab! reader
series summary: your best friend seokmin has always been there for you. after a particularly rough heartbreak, you find out he's there for you in more ways than just one.
series notes: uni!au, best friends to lovers, friends with benefits, kpop 97 line antics and shenanigans (specifically seventeen & loona), 18+ (smut is outlined/warned beforehand)
chapter notes: alcohol mention and consumption, house party setting, smut!!! (oral sex [afab receiving], protected sex, small insecurity mention), mingyu being pouty, yves being a terrible wingwoman, minghao being the king he is, to my jaehyun lovers i'm so sorry, this is for the orbits for the pain that we've been through
wc: 7.2k (still can't believe i wrote this much)
a/n: i've teased bringing this back a lot and this series still means so much to me, even though it still sits unfinished lol. this first track especially. and if it weren't the support (& excitement) of @onlyseokmins, idk if i ever would've reposted it. so this is for you bb <3 please let me know what you think in the tags or send in asks, i'd love to hear your thoughts! <33
“What do you think about this?”
You look over at your friend, her figure adorning a velvet tube top with loose white cloth pants, an outfit that’s comfortable and light for a steamy college party and yet accentuates her curves enough to show off. Any sane person would tell Yves that she would be the center of attention as soon as she walks through the door, having everyone question if they wanted to be her or be with her.
“It looks good,” you respond with a nonchalant shrug, going back to aimlessly scrolling on your phone, surrounded by a multi-chrome array of clothes.
You were clearly not the sane person in that scenario.
Yves turns to you, exasperated at your attitude. “Dude, you’ve been so boring since you got your heart broken by Jaehyun.”
“I did not get my heart broken.”
“Really? Because you’re acting like the second lead who just got dumped in a drama.”
“Your outfit and you are hot, like always! Is that what you wanted to hear,” a small chuckle leaves your lips as you stand up from the bed. “Anyways, I’m not heartbroken, just upset.”
You look over your outfit in the floor-length mirror of the room, your black booties standing out against your mid-wash jean shorts. As you play with your cardigan, your mind wanders to Jaehyun and the ghost of a fling, fleeting and indescribable to anyone not close to you. You begin to wonder how he describes you to his close confidantes, if the small cafe dates and late night study sessions in the library were described with care or if all that mattered were the rushed bedroom antics, leaving you with just a memory and an “I think we should see other people” text message.
“Take this off. I know you and you’re going to get hot,” Yves wakes you from your daze, pulling your cardigan off your body, revealing your black cropped tank, “This is a better outfit anyway. We’re going to a party, not one of Haseul’s opera recitals.” She joins you in the mirror, a small smile gracing her face as she assesses your outfit. “Much better. Plus, this,” she gestures to your figure, “will help you get laid.”
You roll your eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what they say! To get over someone, you have to get under someone new.”
Looking at Yves, her pride evident in her stance and a mischievous gleam in her smile, you were sure of one thing. “You’re absolutely mental.”
“You know I’m right,” Yves insists. “One way to quickly get over someone is to have sex with someone else. I’ve done it.” Her shameless approach on the topic bleeds through her demeanor, her shoulder sitting low on her upper body as she sits on her bed and one of her legs drapes across the other. Just as you were about to respond to her, your phone buzzes in your back pocket, distracting you and Yves from the current conversation.
LADS ‼️💯‼️
seokmin: ya’ll going to the party tn?
haseul: can’t :/ have the late night shift at the library
mingyu: booooo tomato tomato
minghao: and what happened to fuck capitalism?
haseul: try telling our landlord that
minghao: fair enough
yn: yves and i are going!
seokmin: jinsoul?
jinsoul: social battery is pretty low, so i’m probably going to stay home
mingyu: BOOOOO tomato tomato 🍅🍅🍅 i'm throwing tomatoes!
yves: leave her alone gyu!
jinsoul: i’m not getting you coffee before class anymore for that
minghao: lmao good job gyu
yn: he will be his own downfall
mingyu: :(
seokmin: anyways the boys and i will see yall there!
seokmin: do you need a ride?
yves: we’re taking an uber!
minghao: good. stay safe!
Yves looks up from her phone and looks at you with a playful smirk pulling at her lips. “You know what I just thought was a great idea.”
With her track record, it’s probably not a good idea.
“You should hook up with Seokmin.”
It definitely wasn’t a good idea. “Okay, now I know you’ve lost your mind.”
“You can’t tell me that you haven’t thought about it.”
You can’t deny that you haven’t thought about how your best friend would treat you in the bedroom. You would get lost in your head, thinking about how his arms had gotten toned after his recent workout sessions and how those same arms would hold you down as he made you reach cloud nine. Many would cringe at the mere thought, but with how close you and Seokmin were and how much time you two spent together, people thinking you were at least hooking up wasn’t uncommon, your cheeks getting hot any time it’s brought up. His eyes would get wide with that same sweet smile, the red flush on his ears disappearing quickly. You’d never cross that boundary just to get over a silly boy; your friendship means much more to you than a quickie.
“Just because I might’ve thought about it, doesn’t make it something that needs to happen. I’m not that desperate,” you double down on your stance, grabbing your phone to check the status of your Uber, finding any excuse to escape this conversation. The thin black line stating your driver was more than 5 minutes away, you mentally curse at whoever was upstairs who enjoys watching you suffer at the hands of Yves.
“Please, have you seen how buff he’s getting! Those arms?” a sly grin blooming on her face, she looks over at you expectantly as if you would agree with her. You do, but you’d never let her know that. Instead of entertaining her antics, you grab your personal bag, ready to leave for the night.
“Okay, you’re done. Let’s go,” you say, pulling Yves from the bed, “the Uber is almost here.”
Walking through the door of the frat house, the humidity in the air makes your shirt stick to your chest like a second skin. The packed bodies only add to the warmth inside the cramped house, you silently thank Yves for making you take off your cardigan, the couple years of your friendship proving that she knows you better than you think. She hugs your backside, keeping you close as you move through the mass of people, looking for your group of friends.
“Do you know if they’re here yet?” you hear Yves’ voice, yelling above the crowd from behind you and almost blending into the music.
You respond, bringing your face close to her ear, “Yeah, Seokmin texted me saying they were!” She nods in acknowledgment, eyes scanning the immediate area. It’s hard to miss a man towering over the crowd, his signature black hair striking against his tan skin making him stand out as he takes a sip from his red solo cup near the kitchen. Two other men stand close to him, donning similar red plastic cups, one with a bright smile that easily lights up the room, shining with the fluorescent blues and purples of the house, and the other boy making his mark with a messy mullet and trademark style that defines his frame. Even if you hadn’t recognized the trio as your best friends, you would’ve instantly taken notice, the boys immediately attracting your attention.
“I found them!” you announce to Yves, who’s still close behind you, clinging to your arm as if her life depended on it. Grabbing her hand, you move through the crowd, not caring whose toes you stepped on or if people didn’t hear your ‘excuse us!’. It wasn’t long before you met with the trio of men, their faces lighting up as soon as they took notice of your presence and Mingyu pulling you in for a suffocating hug.
“You finally made it!” Mingyu’s breath is hot against you as he yells over the noise, still keeping you close even after the hug was long done, his arms tucking you underneath him. His chin decides to rest on your head and naturally finding its place as his arms wrap around your figure. At first glance, people may think that the two of you were an item, but Mingyu was just close with anyone he knew, finding any reason to hug his close friends.
“You’re lucky we made it all, hell, with how many people are here!”
“We were talking about moving to the backyard once you got here. Did you guys want a drink first?” Minghao is the one to speak up, looking at you and Yves through his bangs, bringing his red solo cup to his lips.
A groan breaks through the air, Yves grabbing his hand as she responds, “Yes, please. I definitely need it.”
Surprisingly, the kitchen is less crowded than the common areas of the house, bodies not congregating in the area once they make their drinks. You feel instant relief, the air conditioning hitting your skin, even a nice breeze from the back door giving you much needed fresh air. The group makes their way to the kitchen island, an array of liquor, beer, and mixers lining the surface, making the workspace nonexistent. Mingyu works with what he has though, his hands moving with diligence and ease as he acts as the group’s personal bartender for the night - just like every group gathering before.
“Hey!”
Turning towards the voice, you’re met with Seokmin, his dark hair falling against his tan skin and a smile so big that the skin near his eyes smile along with him, still sparkling with the bright party lights. Your heart grows warm seeing your best friend, the energy around him bursting with sunshine and love that anyone can feel when they enter his presence. You return his smile and saddle up to his side. Your shoulders touch as the two of you watch Mingyu mix drinks for you and Yves, who joins you and Seokmin, sitting on the kitchen counter next to him.
“I haven’t gotten to ask you, how are you doing since…” Seokmin’s words trail off and you look at him, concern etched in his face.
“Since Jaehyun? I’m not made of glass, you know. We can talk about him.”
Yves chimes in, “Don’t act like you weren’t crying about how unloveable you were just two days ago,” her snark ever prevalent in her tone.
“Anyways!” you retort, moving your attention back to Seokmin, “I’m fine. It was just a little fling, not a big deal.”
“It’s ok to be sad. You really liked him.” Seokmin flashes you a sincere smile, so pure, so full of light, the party seems to be worth it all from this little interaction. It’d been a while since you left your cave, only earthing to join the weekly movie night with everyone. Every time you wanted to hide away underneath your sheets, when you wanted your world to be blackness, when you wanted the world to swallow you whole, Seokmin was always there, the light at the end of your tunnel, pulling you out.
“Well, we’re not being sad tonight,” Mingyu interrupts your daze, handing you a miniature plastic cup, the same shot-sized reusable cups that were on the counter for reckless decisions like this one. “We’re here to forget about Jaehyun and enjoy our friends. Ones we know won’t leave us high and dry.” He holds his cup up to the ceiling, everyone following suit. “To our friendship!”
The clear liquid burns in your throat and you can feel it travel down your body, a chill tingling up your spine. Your nights that usually start with vodka shots don’t end too well, you think.
Cheers to you finding out what this night has in store.
A breeze wafts into the air, tripping you up and the ball you just threw blowing away with it.
“That’s not fair! The wind affected the throw!”
“Doesn’t matter! We discussed the rules before we started!”
A pout forming on your face, you stand back, giving Seokmin room for his turn. He turns to you, giving you a small pat on your lower back, muttering a soft ’it’s okay’ before his concentration is back on the five red cups laid in front of him on the table. His eyes are focused, his face still as he brings his hand up to aim, lining up his shot. The air was silent, the group paying close attention to his actions, watching him take his shot. The world seems to stop as he lets go of the plastic ball, everyone quiet until it reaches the rim of a plastic cup, toying with your emotions until it finally dips into the cup with a resounding plop.
You scream and wrap your arms around Seokmin, giddy with excitement as giggles fill the air. You don’t even care that there were still 3 cups to a victory and neither did Seokmin as he lifted you in the air, making your world dizzy. He held you tight, keeping you tucked into him even after he set your two feet back on the ground, his arms hugging you and taking place on your shoulders.
“I don’t know why Y/N is celebrating, they’ve missed every one of their shots!” Mingyu taunts, clearly trying to get under your skin.
Before you can respond, Seokmin speaks up, “Hey! We’re closer to winning than you! And that’s bold coming from you when Yves is clearly carrying your team.”
Mingyu gets quiet at that, Yves not even able to defend her teammate, just turns to him with a sympathetic pat on his arm before lining up to take her shot. Minghao, who’s leaning comfortably on the back wall of the house, chuckles, only staying quiet once Mingyu shoots him a death glare.
Looking up at Seokmin, you pout with a small whisper, “Am I that bad?”
“What? No! Also, who cares? It’s just beer pong.” He leaves the comfort of your touch to grab the ping pong balls from the grass, both missed by Yves and Mingyu.
“I care! For my ego.” You know he’s trying to make you feel better, trying to make sure you don’t take Mingyu’s competitive nature to heart like you tend to do. It is just beer pong. But the phrase “The more you drink, the better you are at beer pong” has exceptions and you may be one of them, the alcohol coursing through your system not helping whatsoever.
A playful smirk appears on Seokmin’s face as he says, “Would it hurt your ego if I helped you out with your form?”
You look at Seokmin through your lashes, your pout turning into a coy smile and a flirtatious lilt coming out of your tone. “No, I don’t think so.”
When Seokmin hands you the ping pong ball, he takes position behind you, lifting your hand with his, the other holding to your waist tightly. His breath was hot against your face, his voice soft and nurturing, tickling your ears, “You want to keep your wrist loose and have it high to start. It’s easier to aim from high above.”
It could be the alcohol talking, but having Seokmin this close, this intimate, had you thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to have him tangled in your sheets. The same caramel voice that was coaching you through your terrible beer pong skills, the same voice that calls you late at night to make sure you’ve made it home safely, that same voice would be coaxing you to your high, having you come apart from his words alone.
It’s definitely just the alcohol talking, you think. You hope that’s the case, anyway.
“Once you get an aim, you’ll want to let go and follow through with your throw.” Seokmin leads you in the motion he described, still keeping you close. With your confidence now elevated, the air still, and everyone quietly watching, you let go of the ball and follow its arc as it sinks into a center cup.
Pride lights your smile aglow, your first instinct to reach Seokmin for a hug in a small celebration. His grip on you is tight as he hugs you back, his eyes showering you with admiration.
“I knew you could do it.”
“I only made that shot because of you.”
You glance over at the other side of the table. With a knowing smirk on Yves’ face, she keeps her eyesight towards the ground, preparing for her next turn.
You won’t be hearing the end of it from her.
You lean against the folding chair you’ve taken refuge in, a sweet breeze coming in, slightly lifting the jacket that’s draped across your shoulders. Smoke from the small fire in front of you makes your eyes sting, tears filling the corners. Bringing the cup you have to your lips, a clear line of separation from the ice that has melted and the alcoholic coke visible, you shudder at the taste and hand the cup back to Mingyu. “This party is kinda boring.”
“Oh, is beating us at beer pong not enough fun for you?”
“You’re starting to sound like a sore loser, Gyu,” Minghao chimes in, nursing his own screwdriver next to you. He keeps his puff jacket unzipped, letting the heat from the fire warm him up from the chill of the night air.
“So what if I am? Yves didn’t do all that work for nothing.”
“Speaking of Yves, where is she?” You never saw her slip away from the group, the atmosphere missing her snark and light attitude, but you’re only met with shrugs from the two men in front of you.
“She mentioned meeting with ViVi, don’t know if she ever found her.” The voice comes from behind you with a hand meeting your shoulder, the touch not unwelcomed, recognizing it to be Seokmin. “I’m assuming she has because she’s been gone for awhile.”
Just as Seokmin rejoins the group, a fresh drink in hand, your phone buzzes on your lap with the screen illuminating your face, looking at the text.
yves: leaving with vivi, don’t wait up <3
yves: also, don’t think we won’t be talking about seokmin later
yves: 😉
yn: we won’t be talking about him bcs nothing is nor will happen
yves: keep telling yourself that
You tune yourself out of your conversation with Yves, exhausted from the few text messages and her persistence. Turning your attention back to the group, leaning your head against Seokmin’s arm. “Yves just texted me. She left with ViVi.”
“Of course she did. I’m surprised it took her this long to make a move,” Minghao comments. The fire was now burning stronger, embers flying through the space only to land softly on the concrete. “How long has she been talking to her, anyway?”
“About 3 months now,” Mingyu answers.
“Damn… She must really like her.”
“Yeah, she never waits that long if it’s just a hookup. Even if I wanted to take someone out, I don’t think I’d wait that long.”
Minghao's eyes flicker to Seokmin, something on the edge of understanding and comfort, almost like he was sympathizing with him. Something you might have noticed if you weren’t resting on Seokmin’s hips, eyes closed as he rubs small circles on your shoulder. Something you would ask Seokmin about if you had seen. The look leaves as quickly as it came, Minghao’s face leans downcast, lips pursed as if he was holding his thoughts in.
Seokmin’s face leans close to your ear, soft and inviting as he speaks, “You getting tired?”
“Not really. Just bored,” sighing, you look up at Seokmin, meeting his eyes. “Kind of want to go home.”
“Let me take you back, make sure you get home safe. I’ll get us an Uber.”
“You just got your drink! I don’t want to end your night early.” You give Seokmin a gentle smile, a small appreciative gesture at his care. He was always taking care of you, always by your side, always giving himself to you. You wanted him to enjoy his night not worrying about you, at the very least.
Suddenly, Seokmin is walking to Mingyu, handing his cup over to the man sitting on the concrete, engulfed in conversation with Minghao. He announces his departure, telling the boys to make sure to get to their shared apartment safely and let him know when they do. Then, he’s walking back to you, grabbing your hand with such kindness, such care, before he’s looking at you expectantly.
“Let’s go.”
Your keys clinking fill the dead space as you enter your apartment, making sure to hold the door open, inviting Seokmin to follow you. He’s been here many times, whether it was alone or with your group of friends. The apartments shared between the seven of you had an open-door policy, welcoming heartbreaks, laughs, boredom, and overall debauchery with wide arms and open cabinets. Seokmin didn’t ask any questions when he walked into your apartment last week and saw you left alone in the darkness, nursing a bowl of your comfort instant ramen, your body hidden underneath an oversized blanket. You didn’t ask any questions when he joined you in your reality tv show marathon, grabbing a blanket from your ottoman, letting the fabric swallow him whole when he settled on your couch. Neither of you said anything, sitting in a comfortable silence, your brains turned off from the stress of the week.
He knew he didn’t need to ask anything; he knew you would come to him eventually, when you were ready.
He secretly hoped your heart would do the same.
“Did you want a drink?” your voice brings Seokmin back to reality. You were at your fridge, pulling out transparent green glass bottles. “I know you didn't get to finish yours earlier.”
“I thought you were tired,” Seokmin ignores the question, instead looking at you incredulously.
After you open the bottles, you bring the cold bubbly liquid to your lips, walking across your kitchen island to bring Seokmin the other. “I said I was bored, not tired. There was nothing to do, just a lot of loud drunk kids.”
“That’s most frat parties, you know.”
“Yeah. I don’t know why I keep letting Yves drag me to them,” you sigh, staring past Seokmin but not focusing on anything in particular.
“How about we play a game or something? Never have I ever?”
“You already know most everything about me! What fun would that be?”
“I bet there’s some things I don’t know about you!” While you and Seokmin had known each other since freshman year, spending most of your time together, you kept yourself guarded. Only letting Seokmin in when you were comfortable, prepared for the onslaught of judgment - which never came. Seokmin had been nothing but understanding, a warm breeze in an otherwise cold world. “How about we play 20 questions?”
You purse your lips, letting the beer bottle settle on your countertop as you think over Seokmin’s proposition. “Fine.”
“What was your first impression of me?”
You giggle to yourself, settling on your rug in the living room, thinking back to when you first met Seokmin during freshman orientation. Your knees touch his, bumping into each other as you reminisce. “What was my first impression of the goofball who followed me around like a lost puppy?”
Seokmin laughs, lighting up the room, making happiness bubble to the surface of your skin. You join in his laughter as he says, “Hey! Two lost people is better than one! Would you have not wanted me to follow you around because look at us now!”
“You’re right. Who knew that little goofball would end up being one of the best people in my life?”
“Remember during the social, Mingyu busted his ass trying to show up Minghao at b-boying?”
“Yeah and we had to help him nurse his ego in the dorm hallway?”
You and Seokmin had been inseparable that weekend, from his first awkward “Do you know where the Admin building is?” to your last “I guess I’ll be seeing you around campus”, you two finding your way back to each other come the first semester. With you two living in adjacent dorm buildings, it was easy to catch up for lunch, walk each other to class and meet in the communal study rooms. Mingyu happened to live in the same building as Seokmin and Jinsoul was your freshman year roommate. Soon, your group during the lunch break grew to include Haseul, Minghao, and Yves and solidified during sophomore year. They all held a special place in your heart, but none like Seokmin and they all knew it. Life was easier with Seokmin; midterms never seemed as difficult with his guiding light, heartbreaks never felt as lonely with his warmth and bad decisions never were so irreversible with his love.
Seokmin was and will always be your home — your light at the end of the tunnel.
The laughter between you two dies down, an easy silence falling in the air. It isn’t until you calm down that you ask the next question, “Okay my turn.” You bring a serious expression to your face, shifting the tone from the previous lighthearted atmosphere. “Is it better to love & lose or never love at all?”
“Oh, you’re getting philosophical on me now?”
“No better time than at 1 am on a Friday night, tipsy with my best friend.”
You see Seokmin slightly wince, something that happens in a blink of an eye before it’s replaced with a pensive expression, his lips jutting out in thought. You don’t have time to point it out before he’s answering, “Isn’t it better to love & lose? I mean, what’s a world without love?” You think on his words, albeit too long as he voices, “Why? Do you feel different?”
“Personally… yeah,” you mutter. You speak a little louder, confiding to Seokmin, “It might be everything that happened with Jaehyun but I can’t see how I can be thankful for giving him my love.”
“You… loved him?” Seokmin murmurs quietly, unable to mask his surprise.
“Not exactly, but is it embarrassing how fast I fell for him?”
No…” Seokmin trails off, his lips in a thin line, almost like he’s trying to keep himself from saying something he wants to. It’s faint, but you notice.
“What do you want to say?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re hiding something.”
“No I’m not,” he repeats, adamant.
“Yes you are!” you smile before continuing, “C’mon, just tell me!” You begin to poke Seokmin’s side, a prominent offensive move in your arsenal. Seokmin giggles, trying to move away from the stimulation of your jabs, but is unsuccessful as you reach over and begin your attacks on his left side.
“Y/N stop!” His demand comes out broken as he tries to catch his breath, unable to break his fits of laughter.
“Not until you tell me what you’re hiding!”
Your assault continues, your giggles getting louder, probably annoying your neighbors. Neither of you are able to catch your breath, until Seokmin suddenly grabs hold of your wrists, bringing your back to the cushion of your rug, effectively pinning you to the ground.
Your laughter dies, the room becoming dead silent, only your ragged breaths filling the air. Your chest is heaving, your lungs trying to catch the precious air around you. With Seokmin straddling your waist, it isn’t until your breathing finally slows do you realize that his face is inches away from yours. His breath is audible, face red from the commotion.
You’ve never really looked at Seokmin this close, his mole standing out on his cheek. You notice every pore, every freckle and every line, all of it accumulating into the beauty of his face. His eyes are soft as he looks at you. The tension is unmistakably palpable, making your skin hot underneath his touch. You glance down at his lips, the curves and various shades of pink accentuating against his tan skin.
Before you can think much about it, you’re suddenly kissing him.
And just as quick, he’s pulling away from you, eyes wide. He looks at you as if you might break, like fragile glass ready to crack at any moment.
“Are you sure you want this?” Seokmin is sincere, voice woven with care, loosening your own heart strings. “I don’t want you to do something you’re going to regret in the morning,” he whispers, speaking softly, trying not to overstep his boundaries. His thought to put you first was the last undoing of the tangled mess of woven string in your heart, unraveled and exposing yourself to him.
“I’m sure, Seokmin. I want you.”
You don’t get to finish your sentence before Seokmin’s lips are back on yours, swallowing your last breath.
His lips are softer than you imagine and taste of mint and whiskey, combining to create something that was uniquely Seokmin. The hairs stand up along your body, your senses being invigorated by Seokmin’s attention to your lips. Shivers run down your body from his kisses alone and once he starts trailing along your jaw and neck, your skin lights fire, igniting the burning desire within you.
His hands leave your wrists, bringing them to your torso, keeping you close against him as your hands immediately cling to his neck, breathing heavily. He runs small circles along your skin, making you go dizzy.
Panting, you manage to whisper through your short breaths, “Should we take this somewhere that, you know, isn’t my living room floor?”
Seokmin keeps his attention on your neck as he responds between kisses, “I don’t know. I was ready to take you right here.”
“Do you want me to blow my back out?”
“Oh, you’ll be getting your back blown out no matter where you are.. so it’s really up to you.” You can feel him smile against your neck with a small nip. You moan at his words, his confidence making you quiver. This kind of arrogance isn’t something you’re used to seeing on Seokmin, but you can’t deny that it looks good on him, easily molding you like clay under his fingers.
You play it cool, though, or you hope, at least. “I’d rather not have sex with you on my living room rug.”
“Fair enough.”
SMUT WARNING !
As soon as you shut the door, Seokmin finds his hands all over you, bringing you back to his mouth. One of his hands lands on your waist, kneading at your skin underneath your crop top, slightly lifting the fabric. He held on tight, not wanting to let you go, afraid of you disappearing from his grasp. He can’t help but think this is all a dream — his ears ringing with your whines, his fingers grazing your goosebumps, it was everything he’d fantasized about.
“Seokmin…” Your voice sounds sweet in his ears, blissful, a desire dripping from it that he’s never heard from you before.
“What is it?”
Your breath on him is hot, heavy against his skin. “Can we hurry this up because I need you,” you sigh, a small teasing smile playing against your lips. Your hands were grabbing at his clothes desperately, the tug and pull making Seokmin’s head spin. He lets out an airy chuckle, pulling you closer.
Seokmin leads you to your bed, your back hitting the mattress as he runs his hands along your thighs, still leaving kisses along your neck. He trails along the length of your body, down your neck, your clothed chest, your stomach, leaving languid kisses. He was in no rush, wanting this night to last as long as possible, even if it was already two in the morning. He could have you underneath him for hours, your hands pulling at the strands on his head.
He reaches the bottom of your shirt, playing with the hem, leaving open mouthed kisses along your stomach. “Can I?” He asks, referring to your crop as he looks at you, eyes meeting yours. He didn’t want to do anything out of comfort zone, feeling lucky enough to be in this position. As much as the flirty banter made both of your positions clear, he wanted to give you any opportunity to back out if you were ever uncomfortable with crossing the imaginary boundary of your friendship.
You nod and slowly, Seokmin begins to lift your top, revealing your torso. It took everything in him to not confess to you right then and there, the alcohol flowing in his system removing the filter in his mind. He wanted to kiss you all over, sing sweet praises, tell you how much he’d always wanted this and more, how he’s been in love with you since that freshman orientation weekend — everything that’s been on his mind these past two years.
But he settles with a “God, you’re so beautiful,” hoping that you’d recognize the whiskey lacing his words instead of the yearning.
“Why are you acting so surprised? You’ve seen me in a bikini before!”
He has seen you in a bikini and Seokmin had to take a cold shower when he rinsed the chlorine off of his body for the day, hoping you hadn’t noticed his lingering eyes.
“Can’t a guy just compliment his best friend’s naked body before he fucks them?”
He’s also hoping that you don’t notice how hard it was for him to say that, disguising his wince with a teasing smile.
You begin to unbutton your jean shorts, your hands dancing around the waistband of the material. “Are you actually going to fuck me or are you just going to talk about it?”
Oh, you were going to be the death of him. He fears that you know that.
“I should’ve known you were going to be a brat,” Seokmin mutters, still loud enough for you to hear as he pulls down your shorts down your legs. He’s met with a visible wet patch on your black underwear, which almost takes him out right at that moment. The damp fabric is stuck to your cunt, like a second skin. “Fuck.”
“What?”
“You’re so wet,” Seokmin responds, getting closer to the gap between your legs, blowing puffs of air from his words, making you shake from the stimulation.
“Is that a bad thing?” He can hear the insecurity in your voice, the confidence from earlier breaking with you slowly pulling your legs together. Seokmin counteracts this action, bringing your legs apart and opening yourself up to him once again. He plants a soft kiss on your inner thigh and he feels the tension release from your body, welcoming his touch.
He looks up at you earnestly. “Of course not. It’s hot.” He toys with your panties, waiting for your approval to continue.
“You can take them off, Seokmin.”
That was all Seokmin needed, peeling your underwear off.
Seokmin thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. Seeing you bare, spread open for him and only him, was something he’d never believed would happen to him in this lifetime. He’s awestruck at your beauty, only able to respond by kissing your thighs repeatedly, your moans only encouraging him.
He lowers himself close to your pussy and licks a slow, long stroke along your bud. You grab at his head instantly, a whine coming out of you. He circles your folds, teasingly slow, savoring every moment he has between your legs. You taste sweet, more enticing than any of Seokmin’s dreams. His hands took purchase on your waist, pulling you closer to him when you’d steer away. Your arousal builds and he’s quick to flit his tongue against your clit.
“Fuck! Have you always been good at this?” you choke out, the question coming out broken and breathy, a moan following.
Seokmin smiles against you, laughing quietly, the vibrations tickling against his lips. His pride was swelling, hearing you, the person he’s been in love with for two years now, cry for him. The feeling is making him insatiable, the desire to make you cum overriding any other thought in his mind. Your fingers that were in his hair started to pull harder, fervid as the pleasure overtook you.
The ache in between his legs, his dick squeezing in between the fabric of his jeans, started to become excruciating. Seokmin slowly grinds against the mattress, searching for any relief for his own hard-on. It proves to be useless, his arousal moving three steps forward and one step back each time you moan his name. His face was covered in you as you jerk against him, riding out the sensations.
He ghosts his fingers to your entrance, hovering over it, teasing you with the prospect of having them inside of you. He keeps his fingers where they are until you wail, begging for them.
“Seokmin, stop teasing…” your voice trails, punctuated with a gasp, from Seokmin slipping his fingers inside of you.
He didn’t need any lubrication, you were dripping enough for him. The sounds that were coming out of your cunt were lewd and it only turned Seokmin on more, blood rushing to his cock and the strain against his jeans becoming even more unbearable to ignore. He can feel you clenching around his fingers; he knows you’re close. Once he reaches the bumpy surface of your g-spot, your muscles tense even more and your breath hitches, your legs squeezing Seokmin.
“Let go for me,” he whispers with a kiss to your clit. A second later, you’re coming undone, back arching off of the mattress. Your walls pulse against his fingers, making his cock twitch. His eyes were transfixed on your figure, watching you fall apart because of him. You were beautiful, this he always knew to be true, but the image of you tensing around him and cumming against his fingers would be engraved in his mind for the rest of his life.
You begin to come down from your high, Seokmin kissing your inner thigh, eyes shining with awe as he continues to slowly pump in and out of you. You look down at him, relaxing your hands that were once gripping his hair with superhuman strength. He didn’t mind, though. He never minded anything when it came to you, especially since he knew that he was the reason for the overwhelming pleasure.
“Oh my god… Seriously, where did you learn to eat pussy like that?” you breathe out, still trying to catch your breath.
“I don’t know,” Seokmin chuckles as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you. “I guess I’m just a natural.”
You sit up, reaching for Seokmin’s chin as you bring his lips to yours, taking his breath away. He's completely intoxicated by you, the alcohol wearing off and being replaced by your allure. It still amazes him how you have him trapped under your spell, wrapped around your finger — and you don’t even know it. Seokmin is so lost in your kiss, he doesn’t realize that he’s now on his back with you straddling him, your hands fumbling with his zipper.
“Let me take care of you,” you coo, your lips still close to his, brushing against them softly.
It pains Seokmin, the thought of your mouth around his length, his body shivers with the image in his mind. “I’m going to be honest, while I’d love to have you sucking me off, I’d cum in 30 seconds,” he confesses. “I need to be inside of you. Now.” You smile so bright, so enchanting, Seokmin is already seeing stars when you kiss him again, only breaking the kiss to take off his pants and underwear and he removes his shirt.
“Do you have a condom?” he asks, lingering on your body as you remove your bra.
“There’s one inside my nightstand.”
Once Seokmin rolls the condom down his length, your body hovering over him, he finally realizes that this is actually happening. This might not be the way he thought it would ever happen, but he doesn’t have much time to think about it before you’re sinking down on him, enveloping his cock in your heat with a curse.
You pause, eyes screwed shut as you mentally curse. Tears threaten to fall, pooling to the side of your eyes. Seokmin sees this and panics, immediately sitting up, rubbing soft circles on your cheek. “Hey, hey, are you okay? What’s wrong?” He speaks softly, comforting, afraid that you would crack.
You shake your head, finally opening your eyes to look at him. “It’s nothing, it’s just…”
“Just what?”
“I just had to adjust. You’re…” you pause, thinking carefully on your words, “much bigger than I anticipated.”
Seokmin can’t help but feel smug. He can feel you clenching around him, squeezing the life out of his cock. He can’t hide his smirk, but he’s quick to give you a tender kiss, feeling you relax on top of him. “Just relax. You set the pace,” he soothes and you nod in response.
He stays sitting up as you slowly start to rock back and forth on his lap and Seokmin is already seeing stars, holding back moans. You start slow and easy, setting a rhythmic pace, building pleasure and you lean your head on his shoulder. “Fuck, Seokmin.”
“What is it, baby?” The pet name slips out before Seokmin can catch it. He mentally curses, hoping you don’t notice. It tastes sweet on his tongue, like it was meant to come out of his mouth.
“You feel so good,” you moan, punctuating the statement with a clamp on his cock.
“I can say the same for you.” It was embarrassing how close Seokmin already was, completely drunk on you. Every squeeze, every whine brought him closer to his dissolve; it took every ounce of Seokmin’s self-control to not let go right there. It took everything in him to not confess, tell you that this was everything he’d ever dreamt of, that he was helplessly and completely in love with you. Seeing you drunk on him, on his cock, was shattering all of his resolve.
“Seokmin, I’m so close,” you whine.
Thank God, Seokmin thinks. His hands that were on your waist guide you, bouncing you up and down on his cock, helping you reach your high. “C’mon, baby, you can do it.” Fuck, I’ve got to stop saying that…
He feels your nails dig into him, creating crescent moons and threatening to break skin as the tension that was building in your body starts to snap, an overwhelming amount of electricity coursing through your veins. Seokmin’s willpower is left on a thread, feeling your velvet walls tense around his cock, he’s close to his own climax. Once he’s looking at you, seeing your pleasure wash over you, your eyebrows furrowed and a symphony of moans releasing from your mouth, he’s done for. His orgasm crashes against him and he grips your waist tightly, keeping your body at a steady pace as he empties inside of you.
You're both left panting, bodies spent and going still. All that’s left in the air is your breath and the humidity as you both come down from your highs. Seokmin doesn’t know what comes over him, but the overwhelming need to kiss you takes over his body. He doesn’t think, just reaches up and pulls you to his lips, kissing you passionately until his thoughts come back to him.
Well, where do we go from here?
#seventeen x reader#seventeen smut#seokmin x reader#dk x reader#seokmin smut#dk smut#dokyeom x reader#dokyeom smut#seventeen scenarios#svt x reader#svt smut#svt scenarios
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okay, ya’ll hear me out. a cat demon reader who has a crush on alastor (unrequited) and is jst sittin at the bar with husk trying to talk her out of it
A/N: I didn't mean for this to be this long and I didn't mean for this to fade into what it did. But here we are and now I'm gonna have to write a part 2 for this too 🤭✨
Word count: 1.1k (1,135)
Contents: unrequited love, alastor doesn't care about you 😭, vox is involved but at the end, sad drunk reader turn angry, no use of y/n or pronouns, husk being a good shoulder to lean on
Little Pet [ Alastor(unrequited) x Reader → Vox x Reader ]
The static laced voice drove you crazy. His bloodlust was something you strangely found attractive. Alastor. You were in love with the radio demon. Your infatuation for him was the main reason you’re in the hotel since you thought it’d lead to the two of you becoming close.
But it didn’t work. No matter what you did, none of your advances worked and you were too scared to go too far to the point where he distanced himself from you. You’d bring him freshly-killed deer to his room. His delight made you think he was finally starting to warm up to you but he’d just accept your gift and kick you right back out so he can dine by himself.
You groaned at the other cat demon, Husk, who gave you a whole bottle of booze. “I want him so bad, Husk.” You whined before downing half of the bottle.
He rolled his eyes at you, “Look, that fucker isn’t going to consider it.” He sighed at the sad look in your eyes, “I ain’t ever seen him do any of that romantic shit. He’s just not the one, kid.”
“Why can’t he be the one?” You frowned, alcohol dripping from the side of your mouth. You were a mess over this one-sided pining. “Him and I can rule together. We share the same passions, love watching desperate souls try just to fail, do things out of sheer boredom, and crave power! Everything, Husk! I even brought him fresh kill!”
Husk grimaced a bit at the last bit of your sentence but shook the expression off of his face, “You’re gonna have to give up on it. This whole,” He gestured to you, “front you got on right now is looking, well, pretty fuckin’ pathetic. Sorry to be harsh but it’s been, what? A year of pining now? And he hasn’t even spared you a lovin’ glance.” Husk joined you and started to drink an entire bottle of some cheap booze he had.
It was true. You’ve been running, chasing and practically begging for him to return, or even acknowledge, your affections but he would just leave you alone in the dust. You’d be lying if it didn’t hurt. You take a new bottle off of the shelf behind Husk and popped it open, the cork flying off somewhere with a satisfying ‘pop’ sound. “Thanks for the pep talk, Husk.” You pat his back, “I’ll…try to get over it. You’re right. And thanks for the alcohol.”
He gave you a slight smile and nodded, “The bartender’s always here for you. Let me know if you need another round.”
As soon as you got to your room you slammed the door shut behind you before throwing yourself on your bed. You screamed into your pillow and kicked your legs iut of frustration. Your ears pinned down to your side as you flipped on your back. “What the fuck was I thinking?” You turned your head and caught a glimpse of your drunken, emotional self in the mirror. You laughed at your sad display. What were you thinking? Falling for an overlord like him? He’d never return your feelings. You drink out of the bottle you took earlier. “Fuckin’ lame.” You grumbled to yourself.
Maybe it was an attempt to distract yourself from your broken heart but you ended up scrolling through your phone all night long. You started off looking at the pictures you took with the staff and residents here. They made you smile but every single time you see a glitchy photo, your eyes immediately scanned for the red deer demon and your smile would dissipate into a frown. The more you see him, the more your frown would turn into a scowl. Maybe it was the alcohol but your adoration for him turned into irritation.
He could have at least given you an answer! Some kind of closure. But he just continued to be standoffish and mysterious. You didn’t need him. You couldn’t even take photos with him and you love taking photos. Who needs him anyways? Not you. Not anymore, at least. You got mad looking through your gallery and went on social media.
You scrolled through boring posts until your attention was caught in a VoxTek ad. You squint. Vox hates him and you never really understood why at first, but now you do. That pompous, red, deer-headed, old-timey overlord thinks he’s too good for others. You were done pining for him. Your anger sobered you up and erased your affections for the radio demon. You did so much for him! Followed his bidding and his commands with nothing in return, not even a little bit of praise. You’ve killed for him with no hesitation and he didn’t even bother to look! You were done throwing yourself at someone who won’t appreciate your effort.
You look around your room. You didn’t own a lot of things, only a couple drawers of clothes and maybe some little trinkets you got from Charlie littered your table. You look back down at your phone, staring at the photo of VoxTek’s CEO, Vox.
If there was anyone that could understand this newfound hatred, it would be him. If Alastor can’t recognize you for your power now, then you’re just going to have to make him see you. Make him regret ignoring your obvious affections for him and leaving you hanging with no closure.
You pack your things and leave in the night. You left a note for everyone, except Alastor, apologizing for the sudden disappearance and stating you weren’t necessarily ready for redemption yet. Before you headed out, you left a trinket for Husk as a thanks for constantly listening to your ramblings and helping you out of this hole you dug yourself.
You started to make your way to the Vee tower and as you walked with your backpack, you looked around for a VoxTek drone. As soon as you spot one hovering over the rooftops, you jump on anything that could help you get close to it. As soon as you made it up on the roof you stared right into the lens, determination on your face. You lightly tapped on it with your claw.
“Vox? I know you can hear me. I know you’ve seen me around the radio demon. But I’m fucking done with that prick. I’m leaving the hotel and going straight to your tower. I need you and your power. With me by your side, I promise you that you’ll definitely get under that old fuck’s skin.” You grin at the camera and walk away, jumping rooftop to rooftop as you head towards the tower.
Vox heard and saw you. A sinister grin crept up on his face as he leaned back on his chair. He chuckled with amusement at your resolve, his left eye spiraling. “Interesting.”
Taglist: @froggybich @baizzhu @dickmastersworld @matrixbearer2024
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor x reader#vox x reader#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel alastor x reader#hazbin hotel vox x reader#unrequited love#love to hate moment
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the counterpart
chapter 4 — the day after you stole my heart
rating: explicit. the smut chapter is here. i’m done edging ya’ll. or am i?…
word count: 5,5k
pairing: viktor x fem!reader (no use of y/n, as usual)
cw: smoking, some mild cussing. now to the real shit: did you know you can play chess and fuck simultaneously? well now you know. everybody say thank you sober. brief oral, (fem receiving), unprotected sex. poorly proof-read, i’ll deal with that a bit later.
part 5 —
Every chess player had a favourite vice. That is a proverbial axiom, a mandatory requirement to pursuing a chess career: if one doesn’t have a murderous little something to kill him slowly, but surely — then they shall forever be declared an amateur, a poser, a pathetic excuse of a genius.
Blackburne loved a good drink. He would chug that scotch down like a thirsty man, but it didn’t stop him from becoming the greatest of his time — he mastered the art of combining poison with flawless skill. Tal, on the other hand, held onto his liquor crutch a bit too tight — it didn’t blunt his sharp mind, yet still made people wonder how he‘d managed not to drink himself into a much earlier grave. Generational differences or the infamous Eastern European relationship with alcohol? The biographers weren’t exactly sure, but one fact still remains a tragic reality: once you touch the piece professionally — you’re doomed, and winning a tournament won’t be the only addictive feeling in your life.
But what were Viktor’s vices?
He liked to think he had none. He would politely turn down every temptation, and it made him unique — an outstanding exception, a pleasant anomaly.
Until he met his undoing. His mess of disheveled hair, mingled scents of thrifted threadbare leather, nail-polish and tobacco, mascara fallouts under each tortured with the lack of sleep eye, his constant, impeccable taunt — light-hearted, slightly erotic, animate.
A vice of special danger. A vice much worse than some substance corrupting one's lungs or liver. A vice that went straight for his poor heart.
A woman.
A provocation.
You.
Viktor knew he was a goner the second you challenged him, smartassing your way out of the massacre of pawns — a risky trick not every professional is daring to try, crass and intimidating, and therefore effective. Quite the aggressive nuisance you were — you encroached on his pieces, yet even the possibility of swallowing a delicious knight or two wasn’t tempting enough for you to stoop down to chasing after a man. He really had to lure you into losing that carefulness, boring you out to make you throw yourself at him — but only on the board, of course. Viktor would never indulge more unvarnished fantasies. A bewitched one, yet still a gentleman.
Although he could picture making a solid threat out of you. After all, you were already threatening his sanity. He wore the afterglow of your touch like a phantom trophy, sweetly picturing how other parts of you would feel at the mercy of his tenderness — if only you’d be willing to allow him near you like that: in ways that involved sacrally holding hands and shyly asking for permission to press a goodbye kiss to the crooked corner of your smirking mouth. A threat like that is more than capable of becoming a chess menace: if that’s what you can do to a delicate man’s mind after just one unfinished match and a few equivocal conversations — then you could easily become a champion.
But was he allowed to become something more than just a counterpart shaping you into a better player? Was he allowed to think of you softly when he laid face up in the dark comfort of his room, silence pulsating rhythmically in each ear, as mind drifted to the sound of your laughter — raspy from all the cigarettes you have for lunch? Was he allowed to stare at your hands as they contemplated their next move? To memorize each crack of the thick red coating your nails? To wonder if you’d be opposed to accepting a soft kiss pressed to the cleft of your knuckles after he’d helped you patch up — if only he was brave enough to offer it?
The desperate need to acquaint himself with you more intimately kept suckling at his usually reserved demeanor, melting it off his secretly passion-starved soul. The whole Saturday was spent in aching anticipation, the board with your by-heart recorded moves spread on his desk, a palm slammed across Viktor’s forehead as he replayed your game over and over again. Jayce peeked from behind the sharp arc of his shoulder, clueless as to what could possibly drive his tactful friend into a distress of that extent.
Viktor groaned, aggressively pressing his fingers into his hot from the restless thinking temple. The pieces were mocking him from their hopeless positions — at this point they could’ve aligned into the word ‘liar’ and it would still pain him less than their current placement.
There was no draw. The absence of queen was crucial in your situation — especially considering your previous moves. You really couldn’t get out of this. And he knew it the very instance you’d accidentally caged yourself with that impulsive hunger for his bishop.
And he lied to you. Willingly. Out of pure, selfish eagerness — just to see your brain come up with a solution, and he was oh so close to witnessing it — if only you didn’t gnaw into your nail halfway through. If only he didn’t have a lecture to get to that Friday.
But charming women demand academic sacrifices. He’ll do better next time. If next time ever comes. How naїve of him.
“I don’t get it,” Jayce muttered, throwing another puzzled gaze on Viktor’s dim misery, “why would you lie to her about the draw?”
Viktor sighed, leaning into his chair, wincing at the heavy moanful creak of it.
“I wanted to see her squirm, I suppose,” he confessed, but the answer didn’t seem to please him. “Scratch that, not squirm. She’s a… strange player, let’s put it that way. I just wanted to see her try to get out of that irreparable quandary. Sheer curiosity, if you will.”
“Strange player as in… hopeless?” Jayce quiered, carefully hovering about the board, forehead wrinkled into a frown as he desperately tried to understand what ‘quandary’ Viktor was referring to.
“No, not at all,” Viktor objected, defensively. Had Jayce smiling knowingly at the rushed remark, light-hearted mockery spilling out of his friendly grin. “Impulsive, more like. Brilliant, but so impulsive. If that wasn’t the case — I would‘ve offered her a draw. At the very least. She could’ve beat me if she noticed my plans on her queen in time.”
“Tell her you lied to her.”
“I’m certain she already noticed that much,” Viktor muttered, tired frustration prominent in each heavy sigh as his fingers found a few pieces, twisted them nervously a few times, then poked the pad of his index sharp and angry — as if trying to pierce right through it, to sober up from the heaving regret.
Charming women demand honesty. Precision. Utter resentment even towards experimental white lies.
Or do they really? Viktor was about to find out.
On a Sunday morning he woke up coated in sweat, trembling hand an anxious slam against his wet forehead in a frightened search for signs of fever, followed by a relieved exhale when he didn’t find any. The squealing alarm clock kept persistently reminding him of the tortures he was yet to endure before the revanche — two hours of cramping anticipation: one spent on a rushed meal and a cold shower and the other on an even more hastened trip to the bakery.
He watched the baker wrap the pastries for him with a meticulous frown — that polite old lady wasn’t aware of the importance of her mission, of the fact that those fluffy buchteln were actually a peace offering. Them, and his decision not to bring the timers with him today. Perhaps keeping you well-fed and unlimited in torturing him on the board for however long you pleased could make up for the silly lie he’d regretted so immensely.
The walk to your dorm was slow, slothful even — he picked the long picturesque path on purpose: both not to suffer from the still merciless sunlight, and to avoid showing up earlier than you requested. It takes a lot to please a woman, and he was willing to commit to it — but a sweet little something and some punctuality would have to suffice for now.
So at eleven sharp, with a handful of baked goods wrapped in crispy paper and a nervous grip on the handle of his cane, Viktor was already standing at your door. He sighed, checking the number on it for the umpteenth time — and when that glistening little ‘505’ glared down at him from its honorary position, his hand had finally flexed into a fist and knocked. Politely.
No response. Only an illegible little something — supposedly, an annoyed groan — audible through the door, and Viktor cocks an eyebrow, knocking again; this time, a little bit more insistently.
“Fuck’s sake, what part of ‘do not disturb’ you didn’t get?”
Five angry footsteps. No warning to back off. Five more jarring spins of the clanking keys — and the door flies open, practically disarming Viktor of his cane, forcing him to clumsily step away, going limp and even paler.
“Oh. It’s you.” So soft. Like that mouth — now stretched into a lovely grin — wasn’t just spewing harsh swears. Like those tangled signs of freshly interrupted slumber weren’t scattered across your hair like a sweet morning torture. Like you were completely oblivious to the slight arc your waist caught as you leaned on the doorframe, thin straps of the see-through shirt hanging loosely off each shoulder.
A dare. To slip even lower, to find that fabric crumpled above your navel and — of course — fully absent around the hips, flowing into just as exposed thighs, then calves, and, finally, a definitely barefoot sight.
He didn’t make it past your underwear.
Spellbound, he followed the nod of your head — a few hesitant steps inside, gaze clumsy and inquisitive, already roaming across your room. A humble tremble as it slid over the swell of your backside when you rushed to the lock — to keep him in that cozy cage of yours for today. Eyes rolled, running over the messy bed — no doubt, still warm after you basked in it sweet and half-naked. He spotted the board and lingered there, in a nervous attempt to count every fallen into the folded sheets piece. Anything to find a decent enough distraction while you were struggling to crawl into your jeans — the ones you threw onto your desk the night before, hoping to have them on before he shows up.
“You really do sleep in on Sundays,” he found his voice, choking on a chuckle and watching you scurry around the place, finally not with your ass out. One hop to the left to grab a brush, one slip to the right to practically knock over an ashtray on the bookshelf — a haphazard thing, chaotic and rhythmless.
“I went to bed late,” you mumbled a confession apologetically. “Took me a while to analyze our game. Which, mind you, wouldn’t have been the case if someone hadn’t lied to me about the draw.”
“Is that the reason for your, eh… discontentment?” Viktor quiered, chuckling again. Caught you facing his back with a quizzical frown and met your gaze slyly over his shoulder. Pupils dilated and swiftly followed you to the bathroom, beautifully regretful as he realised that you were about to leave him for a few minutes.
“No,” you laughed, walking out of the reach of his peripheral vision. “A few neighbors tried to disturb my precious beauty sleep earlier. You just happened to come under the fire.”
He hummed in silent understanding, accepting the invitation to explore your room with every fiber of his insatiable curiosity — fingers ran over the contents of your bookshelf, stroked the spine of ‘Masters of the Chessboard’ languid and delicate, relishing that delicious dejavu of the library incident in dreamy reminiscence. Had him stiffening as he caught a rhythmic shuffle coming from the bathroom, then smirking awkwardly as he realized you were simply brushing your teeth. Legs were aching for rest, yet he didn’t answer their painful calling, simply hovering above your desk with a heavy gasp — taking in every notebook and unsharpened pencil.
“Would you take that handsome nose out of my writing?”
Viktor shuddered, clinging off the crime scene with a dismissive shrug, shoulders arched and tense as you raced past them and whisked an ashtray out of its lonesome spot behind the books. Elbows brushed against each other sharp and brief, causing him to turn around with a guilty giggle. Eyes met yours one more time, then fell to your still tortuously uncovered clavicles. You didn’t change out of that loose shirt. A vengeful move or a generous blessing — Viktor was grateful for it nonetheless. And you kindly let him feast upon you in his respectful rapture, as long as he kept looking at you like that — with the excitement of a medieval man fainting at the sight of an exposed ankle.
You crossed whatever little distance divided you from the bed in a single step, kicked the muddled blanket off it like a stupid obstacle and slithered straight on the mattress, ordering him to sit down with a muffled tap by your side. Viktor cleared his throat and obeyed, albeit not expecting to get into one bed with you that fast; left his cane by your desk, took his shoes off and joined you on the sheets, stretching a braced leg out with a fleeting wince. Smiles were exchanged again, limbs relaxed and sank into the all-besieging softness, fallen chess pieces found and resurrected from their countless dents in the linens.
“Did you have any trouble finding me?” you finally interrupted the comfortable silence. He shook his head.
“No. I’m good at following instructions. Didn’t even have to bother your clientele.”
“And what’s that?” your finger pointed at the package he held protectively and your stomach suddenly whined for whatever was inside of it, instantly recognising the familiar bakery label on the paper. You spotted an oily stain at the bottom of it. Must be something sweet. Pastries.
“Oh,” he handed the precious wrap to you. “I’ve brought lunch. Well, breakfast, in your case, I suppose.”
You abandoned the chess board for him to set and anchored greedily into your bucheln, devouring it in a few excitedly large bites. It made him laugh — low and raspy, head rocked back in a precious quiver as eyes closed shut, tempting you to steal a peek at his contorted with chortling face. Flushed. Pretty.
“Thank you,” you mumbled through a chew, feeling the treat melt on your tongue deliciously — a freshly baked gift all yours to satiate with. And when you were done with it — all too fast, to be frank — your gaze returned to the board, widening at the sight of patiently waiting at your side white pieces.
“I thought we’re handling some unfinished business first?”
“No need. We both know the outcome anyway,” he declined discreetly. “I’d rather watch you take your revenge.”
You froze above the row of your pawns, considering the offered privilege. They were reflecting the light with hostile glints, ready to attack. Belligerent and nothing like those glimmers in Viktor’s eyes — all humble and endlessly curious. His dark pieces tensed up in quiet obedience, fully anticipating the first blood to be drawn.
So you indulged him, but not at all mercifully. No pastries can quench the hunger for vengeance. And he understood. He complied.
You greeted him with the taste of his own venom — pawns met in a good old Sicilian once again, resenting each other obliquely from their standard positions.
1.e4. The predictable, flavourful treason. A choice made not for the sake of efficiency — you opened like that because it was personal.
Simply couldn’t resist when it felt so right — to have Viktor completely at your disposal, and, most importantly, out of his own will. He huffed and moved his piece with an unimpressed sigh. Must’ve seen that coming. Of course.
“Eye for an eye, Viktor.”
He snickered. “Pawn for a pawn, more like.” A fucking smartass.
Your knight made an appearance next — you wanted to punch your way through a barricade he was about to build for you, hoping to prevent a possible attack. No need to fight the urge to shift closer, foreheads practically touching as both of you hovered above the board, glances so sharp no blade could ever compete with their inveteracy.
The plan was working. He moved another pawn to d6 for protection, playing into your delusion, and your breath grew hotter before his face in a cheeky laugh. Matched his energy with the same careful move — but not for the sake of creating a shield. It was a calculated preparation for a strike. And as you waited for him to bend to your will, he proved you wrong and took your pawn in two swift motions — one on the board, the other in a small jerk forward, close enough to steal that incredulous gasp of yours into his mouth, if only he was persistent enough.
Oh the fucking audacity! You pulled away from him to a distance more appropriate for a game of chess: both to bite back and to compensate for the distracting nature of your attire. Amber eyes twitched and descended to the crevice of your cleavage, then sprinted back to the board. Either still not brave enough, or simply reluctant to stare at the cost of a loss.
But you noticed. Noticed, and took it to your advantage, cruelly destroying the pawn he tricked you with while he was distraught. Weaponized his obvious weakness to whatever was so precious about your chest and bare shoulders, watching him put his knight into action with a now trembling hand. All is fair in love and war.
The torture was impeccable. It lasted long — diabolically so, extending every time he stepped back to save his pale ass from your aggressive approach. Fingers fiddled with the button of his collar when you almost caged him into a stalemate. Took you a dozen moves, one lost knight and around twenty minutes to do so.
Only twenty minutes. Filled with tension thicker than Bobby Fisher’s book, but that’s besides the point.
And yet he managed to get out of it — his queen lurched a few squares forward and dissected you from the check, ruining the perfect sight; made you swear angrily in a bitter whisper. Close, but no cigar. And you needed one. Desperately.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” you queried, watching him frown with a dismissive shrug.
“It’s your room.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Viktor sighed. Fingers flew to his shirt again, popping open one more button. Had your gaze nailed to the bulge of his voice box, to the slight tilt of his head when he smiled, tucking a single chestnut strand out of his narrowed eyes. A tease. A fidgety vision.
“If you please.”
Good.
You reached for the thrown somewhere nearby ashtray — as if the version of you from twenty minutes before knew that dealing with this man would be impossible without nicotine. Slipped into your pocket and handed him a pack, offering to share the poison together. He declined with a polite head shake and watched you put the cigarette slowly into your mouth — supposedly jealous of the stupid thing. Your pieces waited all around the place, aching to repeat the maneuver as soon as you were done harassing that poor, rusty lighter.
He ousted you of some promising options. You let the smoke fill your lungs, overlooking whatever little possibilities he left you to choose from — you could sacrifice one more pawn in exchange for his bishop later: but that won’t work if he notices it in time. Or you could refrain from attacking him just now in order to move closer to that delicious piece you were eyeing — both would result in a little compromise nonetheless.
You picked the latter. Moved the rook to d6 and exhaled with a wet little pop, catching him drawn to the slowly flowing out of your mouth smoke. Like he cared more about the shape of your lips than a grave you dug for him on the board. If only he slipped up to actually fall in it.
“You look distracted,” you whispered, going in for another drag. It burned your throat nice and thorough, adding to the kick you were getting out of aiming for his defense.
“I am distracted,” he confirmed with a hard swallow. “You’re not playing fair.”
“How so?”
“There was no need to make this so, eh… intimate.”
“Intimate?”
“Well, excuse me for the lack of a better vocabulary,” he snapped and abruptly captured your pawn, then threw it off the board with a hopeless huff. “You never claimed to be condescending and I’m aware of that, but please don’t toy with me. That’s beyond cruel.”
You stirred, letting the cigarette smolder into a thin bridge of ashes. Smiling to the accusation didn’t feel right anymore — his voice, tired of devastation, reduced you to thoughtfulness for a split second. Made you crave to address it softly.
“Are you questioning my methods?”
“No,” Viktor sighed. “I’m questioning my ability to resist them.”
Amber eyes flickered and slid up the curve of your shoulder, hands failed to abide by the stupid restraint and reached for you: one twined around your wrist and squeezed, tight and desperate, the other itched to cup your knee — but still lacked the boldness. Thankfully, you had just enough to flood the whole room.
“Then don’t resist,” you pleaded, feeling his breath collide with the bitter heat of yours.
And his hesitation crumbled, spilling clumsily against your bottom lip. Faces crushed together above the board, mouths opened and molded together hastily — a strangling union, full of whimpers and urgent tongue flicks. Made your hand go limp in his possessive clutch, and he used that opportunity to guide it into the ashtray, putting out the cigarette your tongue still tasted of.
So needy. Like he wanted you to crawl into his throat and slice it tenderly from the inside — if only doing so could guarantee that your kiss will be his undoing. In every single appropriate and inappropriate way.
Lips felt bruised, fingers used their newfound freedom to dig into his hair and tug him away from you softly, lungs burned from breathing him in sharply but oh so heavenly, and you were back at it again within seconds, though with starvation not nearly as impressive as his. Spine arched for him, tingling sweetly when he nudged you slightly to the left — away from the ashtray, the board and all the moves you were yet to make. Feral, but so careful — he was so afraid of destroying your work, yet so keen on ruining you. Preferably for any other man.
Viktor touched like a keeper, like someone others wouldn’t even dare to compete with. Had you shivering in a little convulsion when two undoubtedly talented fingers clung to your lower back and pressed, gliding swiftly into that delicious little dip. Made you wish he could grab more — like a trembling thigh or an ass cheek. You should’ve stayed in your underwear.
But he yielded so preciously. Didn’t let you near that pulsing spot on his neck when you tried to switch to it from his mouth: lips stayed on lips, and he intended to keep it that way. Hands locked behind your back and forced an attack, pulling you close enough to melt gently into his lap, and you left that vampiric attempt for later, settling for straddling him — tight and selfish. Not without a tiny evil itch to tease him out of that sudden bravery, to remind him that it’s you who plays White today. But judging from every pant Viktor made beneath you, he was pretty much aware of that.
You heard him gasp when tongues finally unraveled reluctantly, sharp chin still glistened with your spit, breath was a mess subtly tickling your neck. It drew a laugh out of him — that lovely sound of contentment nuzzling your collarbones with a soft shake, grateful for whatever pieces of you he was allowed to feel. Palms kept sweating nervously against the skin he found under your rolled up shirt.
“Greedy much?” you gave into the soft, tempting mockery. Leaned into his craving mouth and threw your head back, seizing every lick, nip and suck it had to offer. Let him move his palms elsewhere — wherever he pleased, really — and they fell into a cautious squeeze of both breasts, leaving sweet, eager scorches. Scooped your heart race up into a grip and pinched teasingly at one nipple, rolled it hard and stole a choked up moan. Yes. He was greedy. Very much so.
But the jeans were still there, tangling into the embrace and making it impossibly hard to find where he was hard for you. And you needed to feel him throb, raw and impatient as he was against your own torturous ache. As he would’ve been, to be precise — if not for the thick denim separating you cruelly from this obscenity.
He wasn’t thrilled to part with you even for a moment, eyes the prettiest begging stunt when you slid out of his lap — and, simultaneously, out of bed, pupils widened when he realized just what kind of honor you were about to do him. Fingers stayed on your hips and held them in place as you rose above him, digging into each shoulder for whatever leverage those trembling things could provide. Letting him help you out of that attire nice and slow — for the sake of savoring the sight Viktor didn’t deem himself worthy of earlier. Catching the bat of his breath when the cloth thumped to the floor, wrapping around your feet creased and forgotten. You stepped out of it in mad haste, felt him admire the softness of thighs with a languid touch as gaze flew back to yours in a shy request for permission.
And when you nodded, suddenly flushed from having this boy like this — messy-haired, hot and soft spoken, he stilled you securely between his widely parted legs and kissed you softly on the belly — just above that aroused little spot where you needed him most. Had you breaking in half above him, keening raggedly as he hooked his thumb into your pitifully soaked underwear and pulled it tenderly to the side, dark eyes glistening about just as much as the slick of your exposed folds.
A resolute man — he knew exactly what he wanted and went for it without hesitation. His tongue darted out to taste you in one long, relishing swipe — from slit to clit, deliciously sour as you were, moaning at his ministration. And that skilfull torture lasted a few pleasantly long minutes — until you were turned into an almost cumming disarray of weak knees and spasming muscles.
But, strangely enough, you wanted to be even with him. One knee bent and pushed lightly into his crotch, felt him tense up inside the tight cage of pants. He handed you the lead and fell boneless onto the sheets, head a muffled smack against the roughness of your headboard. Had you crawling back to him on all shaky fourth, shirt and ruined undergarments thrown barbarously to the nearest nightstand.
Impeccable in your naked splendor, you sat atop him again, chest heavy with all the things his spread out form did to your fragile heart. And it failed to resist the flaming urge to kiss him, smiling at the way he absorbed all of you so quickly — tongue caustic with your flavour, chestnut hair smelled of bitter cigarettes. Like he was already yours, ready to be kept in this muggy room for as long as you wished to have him.
You pulled away to cup him gently through the tortuous obstacle of clothes, palming whatever you could feel through that redundantly thick layer. And, judging from the Czech curse he hissed through his clenched teeth, you managed to feel just enough — made him slam a palm against that debauched little whimper, appalled to his own loss of eloquence. Bit his lip and nodded, weak and wobbly, at that curved throb.
“Please.”
And you allowed him that mercy. More so to soothe that painful need of him inside you than to ease his sensitive predicament — but it didn’t matter. Not when you pulled his pants down, brusque and impatient, let them roll clumsily around his lean thighs. Didn’t waste much time on his underwear either — lust came before manners, made you gasp when fingers wrapped around just what you were about to take. Body foretasted a tight, girthy fit.
It felt heavy in your hand, smacked against his stomach with a lewd sound when you failed to hold it through a shudder. Caught him staring not so placidly when hips arched, making you glide along the inches of him in a smooth little agony. Gaze darkened when you hovered, working him through the warm clench of entrance. He didn’t dare to rush you, to pierce through you to get that over with. Just took you carefully by the wrists and leveled the back of one palm with his swollen lips, softly kissing each knuckle while you stretched around him slow and pliable. Had you swearing when he budged and tip finally slid deep inside with a delicious tingle.
“Is being defeated the price I must pay for this?” he spoke through a raspy laugh, eyes still nailed to the debauched twine of your bodies. “I’ll gladly start resigning after my very first move if that’s the case.”
“But I didn’t win,” you breathed out, freeing one hand out of his lovely grasp. “We didn’t get to finish.”
He stiffened. Fingers unraveled from yours completely, returning to his side.
“Would you like to finish?”
You gulped, twitching around him with a strangled whimper.
“Yes.”
And he took it for a command. Turned slowly to the board and reached for it not exactly effortlessly, cautious not to knock any pieces over. Brows formed a concentrated frown as he rotated it, attentive and skittish, returning the army of attacking white into your possession. Placed it all softly onto his stomach and held a breath, trying oh so diligently not to ruin a single thing with the slight rise of his inhale. Made you laugh as your thighs parted wider to make more place for the duel, felt him quiver inside you out of sheer, depraved excitement.
He won’t last long. Not a chance.
So you decided to rid him of his misery. First rid, then ride, to be precise — but was it really a misery when you were wrapped around him so viciously tight, keeping him so warm through the rough slap of defeat? If anything, a single loss is a steal for that twisted bliss.
And you could already see the sweet victory. Rook took the bishop you were drooling over the whole time, gave you the cheeky opportunity to switch to a wheezy whisper.
“Check.” Good god.
Caught you nearly cumming on his cock — who needs friction when seductive mockery is an option?
His move smelled of retreat — not that he had any other routes. King ran away to h7, hiding behind the pawn, but you were biting right at its shiny crown, destroying his precious shelter with that same acute rook.
“Check.” Again. Had him twitching into that luscious spot in one sudden hitch, mouth failed to suppress the most pitifully delicious moan.
So when he attempted to escape for the third time — though rather reluctantly, to be frank — your queen stood right there before him, emitting pure humiliation. And, sure, he could still sweep it off its precious square by a simple f8 move — but it wouldn’t save him from the sly rook, sneakily waiting to put him into a numerous deadlock. A sweet, inescapable doom, leaking all over him. So he picked that poison and surrendered. In an old-fashioned way. Just like you imagined. Left the honors for you to do.
“Checkmate,” you uttered, and couldn’t take it anymore — foreheads bumped together fervent and sweaty, pieces poked the skin of your stomach, crushing beneath it as you leaned to kiss him rough and desperate. Hips finally made their first buck to help you both pick up where you left off.
But Viktor yearned to be helpful too. Pieces fell all over the place for you to find them later when long fingers dug into your hips, forcing both you and the board off of him. So pent up, so lovingly untamed — he threw you into the pile of chess, sheets and ashes, and thrusted deeper, had you seeing stars on the blank space of your ceiling. Quarrel died beneath him with whatever little shame you still weren’t disposed of, and your legs wrapped around his waist into a tight lock, pulling him so flush against you that breasts started to hurt from just how hard they were squashed under the pressure of his chest.
—
That Sunday you received a noise complaint from your neighbors. Lost three pawns, one rook and two bishops somewhere in your sheets. Viktor walked out of your room with a giant scratch across the crook of his sore shoulder and a few buttons of his shirt missing.
But looking back at it, when you collapsed, breathy and fucked out, onto the destroyed amenity of your bed — the thoughts of your newfound counterpart haunted you until eyes squeezed shut, drifting to slumber with a content smirk.
And it was totally worth it.
tags: @zaunitearchives @blissfulip @thehistoriangirl @queen-of-elves @vyshnevska
#viktor arcane#viktor x reader#viktor fanfic#viktor smut#no beta we die like men#viktor x reader smut#viktor x f!reader#the cunterpart
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*•.¸♡ MAN OF THE HOUR♡¸.•*
𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐊𝐈 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it folks) piv sex, oral(male!receiving), tit play, grinding/dry humping
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: MDNI! DENKI AND READER ARE IN 2nd YEAR OF COLLEGE!! Also this is one of my first longer “fics” so if you like, please interact so I can write more. Also PRETTY PLEASEE send in requests, I wanna write what ya’ll wanna see! Okay enjoy ya nasties!
★·.·´¯`·.·★ ★·.·´¯`·.·★ ★·.·´¯`·.·★ ★·.·´¯`·.·★ ★·.·´¯`·.·
You stood in the mirror, holding up two mini skirts to your body. Red or black? You tossed your head back in frustration. Fashion was full of trails and tribulations.
“Minaaa!” You yelled. “Red or black mini skirt?”
“Black,” Mina called back, standing in your bathroom mirror trying desperately to shove a second pair of earrings through her piercing that closed months ago.
“Mins, lets just get it re-pierced,” you winced.
“NO! I literally got this!”
“Whatever you say,” you said with a sigh.
The soccer team at your Uni had won Regionals and was hosting a celebration at the frat. The star player who scored the winning goal, Denki Kaminari, was apart of the frat, so of course the party would be go big or go home.
You were mutual friends with Denki, although not as close as you’d like to be. Though he was incredibly attractive, a star soccer player and had a charming personality, you heard enough talk to believe he has yet to touch a woman. How interesting.
“Okay slut,” Mina said, grinning as she stepped out of your bathroom. “Let’s go.”
Giggling as you walked up the frat steps to the pounding base of Heartless by The Weeknd, you inhaled the party scene. Alcohol, sweat and cheap cologne. Lovely.
Mina quickly went off to find Momo Yaoyorozu, who she had been crushing on for weeks and who was unlikely to be found at a scene as vulgar as this. You can’t blame a girl for trying though.
You refrained from ingesting the punch bowl mix some random boy had told you was “jungle juice.” Sounded more like a trip to the emergency room to get your stomach pumped. You settled with a coke and rum instead.
Scanning the room for someone you could talk to, you saw a flash of blond hair with a lightning strike streak. Denki! He was leaning against the doorframe of his room, completely alone. Odd.
“Hey!” You called out. “If it isn’t the man of the hour!”
“Hey Y/N!” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Glad you could make it.”
“Me too,” you smirked at him. He was nervous. How cute. “How’s the star player life treating you?”
“Oh same as always,” he laughed nervously.
“Oh don’t be modest, Kami. You put our soccer team on the map. You have to have a whole fanclub by now.”
“Nope,” he sighed.
“More for me, I guess,” you sipped your drink and looked up at him.
Denki nearly choked on air. A girl like you? Coming onto him? It seemed unfathomable. Sure, girls had hit on him before, but he had never had the courage to take it past harmless flirting. Maybe a kiss if he was feeling bold.
You stepped closer to him, smirking. “It’s a shame you aren’t getting the star treatment you deserve.”
“Y-yeah,” he felt his dick stir. “A real shame.”
“I can fix that,” you whispered, running your hand along his v-line.
“R-really?”
“Yes, Kami. Let me take care of you.”
You pushed him into his room and kicked the door shut. Shoving him on his bed, you straddled his lap.
“Y-you’re so beautiful Y/N,” he said breathlessly.
“And you’re adorable, Kami.”
You began to slowly grind your hips onto his half hard dick. He whimpered softly and squeezed his eyes shut, causing you to smirk.
“Has anyone ever touched your dick before?”
“N-no one but me.”
You began to play with the zipper of his jeans, continuing to ride his thigh. You began to moan softly at the pressure on your clit.
“F-fuck, do you like grinding on me?” Denki said nervously.
“Mhm..” you nodded slowly. Unsure of how to help, Denki began to bounce his thigh slowly to meet your movements.
“Shit Denki, that feels so fucking good.”
“Y-yeah?”
“Mhm, I’m close pretty, but I wanna cum on your cock.”
Denki moaned at your words.
“But first, I wanna suck you off. Can I Kami, pretty please?” You batted your eyelashes at him.
“Fuck, okay.” He whined.
You unzipped his pants, pulling down his boxers. His cock sprung free, leaking pre all the way down his tip. Your eyes widened, and Denki covered his face in embarrassment.
“Uncover your face, Denki. Wanna see the faces you make when I suck your cock.”
Denki looked down at you as you began to lick around his tip, eliciting whimpers from the blonde boy. Licking up the pre and moaning at the salty taste, you began your ministrations.
“Oh shit, Y/N. I-I fuck..I can’t…” Denki whined.
You took his whole cock in your mouth and began bobbing your head. His moans grew louder as you began to play with his balls.
“N-not gonna last long,” Denki choked out. “M, sorry.”
You batted your eyelashes at him, eager to please and continued the bobbing of your head. Denki’s legs began to shake and his cock began to twitch, signaling he was close to his release. His hands found purchase in your hair, grabbing at anything he could grasp.
“F-FUCK,” he moaned out. “C-cumming, CUMMING!”
You popped his dick out of your mouth and hastily threw off your shirt.
“On my tits,�� you moaned. “Please Kami.”
That elicited an incredibly loud whine from Denki as he spilled his hot seed all over you perky tits. Breathless and starstruck, he just stared. How did he get this lucky? As if scoring the winning goal wasn’t lucky enough.
You straddled him once more, and held up a tit to his face.
“Suck.” You commanded.
“Y-yes, anything,” he said eager to please. He took your tit into his mouth and began to suck on your pert nipple.
Moaning, you began grinding yourself on his leg once more.
“Fuck Kami baby, so good to me.”
He began to swirl his tongue around your nipple, producing more and more moans and whines from your lips. Suddenly, he unleashed your nipple with a loud POP!
“P-please,” he whined. “Can’t take it anymore. Please ride me.”
You smirked and grabbed his dick, which was hard again.
“Anything for my star player,” you grinned and sank down onto him, eliciting loud whines from you AND him.
“So big, Kami,” you whined. “Why have you been hiding this from me?”
You began to bounce slowly up and down, as his cock began to ram into your G-spot.
“F-fuck Y/N..you feel so good.. such a pretty pussy.”
You began to go harder, eager to please him and draw more whimpers from his mouth. The lewd squelch of you pussy and skin slapping sounds filled the room.
“So good, Kami..So wet for you and only you.”
“Y-yeah.. you don’t know how long I’ve thought about this.”
His cock repeatedly rammed your G-spot, making your vision blurry and speech slurred.
“M close Kami,” you slurred.
“M-me too.”
“Cum inside, please. Make me yours.”
Denki couldn’t hold on much longer. You came with an obscene moan, the one’s in the adult films that seem fake. But yours was so, incredibly real.
“F-fuck..F-uck..shit.. cumming…” Denki stuttered as he desperately thrusted his hips up into you.
“Please Kami,” you begged. “Make me yours. Fill me up please!!”
“FUCK!” Denki screamed as he filled you with his hot load.
Laughing and giddy from the pleasure, you laid next to him, his cum seeping in between your legs.
“Next time,” he stated. “You’re riding my face.”
#bnha smut#mha#bnha headcannons#bnha x reader#denki imagine#bnha denki#denki kaminari#denki smut#mha smut#denki headcanons#denki x you#denki x reader
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Warlord and the reader celebrating their anniversary
i GOTCHUUUUUUU
Wardlow and Fem!Reader Celebrating their Anniversary: (Wardlow x Fem!Reader)
Word count: 787
Genre: Fluff
Supreme Speaks: i know that I always say this but sorry for taking too long. shoutout to @hookerforhook for allowing me to write their requests (plz keep them coming). hope everyone enjoys this one. P.S. Remember you are loved and appreciated
Warnings: none i don't think, barely proofread
Taglist: @hookerforhook @hooks-martin @wwenhlimagines @triscillal @sheinthatfandom
Wardlow is a sweetheart and you cannot change my mind
A very strong, tall, delicious looking, smells good, funny, charismatic sweetheart indeed
In terms of yall getting together, he would have not stopped chasing you until you agreed to date him
(Then again if you rejected this man you are crazy and we need to talk-)
Throughout your relationship, he has been very hands-on and open about everything with you
I believe he would communicate very well with you
“Baby please don’t hate me but that couch does not go with the furniture”
“Babe, it’s the sims-”
Would think about you for the majority of the day
And would get you little trinkets while he’s on the road
He’s very protective of you and hates to be away from you for long
Always tries to get you to travel with him
Overall, Wardlow is grateful for you putting up with his schedule and the demands in his life and decided to treat you for the upcoming milestone
For the anniversary he would pull out all the stops
Breakfast in bed? With your favorite flowers? And the bottomless mimosas if you wanted? (or water if that’s your style)
OKAY HEAR ME OUT He would allow you to open one gift for every meal you two eat
So he has three big gifts for you in total
(and then he’ll eat you afterward if you know what I mean)
Wants you to wear a matching color scheme with him (his favorite color is black)
Would take you to a spa day cause he got certificates to use
After a nice back massage, he’ll take you out to lunch at your favorite place
DON’T THINK THIS IS ONE-SIDED
You gifted him with a map of where ya’ll first met and a transcript of your first words to each other
He said he’s gonna put it up in y’alls living room
“Is that Leo the Lion?”
He gives you a blooming flower box like this
I don’t think he’s into doing DIY by himself so he asked the girls at work to help him with the gift and putting it together
You nearly teared up as you looked through the memories together
“Oo babe! This is when you got chased by that-”
“I thought I took that one out -_-”
Although this is a nice gift, he saved the best for last
Hours later you got redressed cause he said “It’s a fancier place”
While y’all are matching again, he blindfolds you and takes you to the location
After stumbling in your heels (cause you can’t see or if you don’t wear heels that’s cool too), he took off your blindfold and you saw a beautiful table decorated with roses and pictures of the two of you hanging up by the tree branches in a garden
You awed and squealed as tears entered your eyes yet again
He leads you to the table where your favorite meal and alcoholic (or non-alcoholic) beverage awaits
While eating, you two discussed today and future plans, ultimately deciding today was the best anniversary ever
After you finished eating, you were given a dessert with the words “Marry Me?” on it
You looked up at Wardlow in shock as he got down on one knee with a beautiful ring in his hands
(girl if you weren’t crying earlier, you’re sobbing now as I’m about to get fluffy)
“Y/N, I truly love you. I cannot imagine my life without you, and I hope I never have to go on without you in my life. You have been my rock, the one person who keeps me grounded. Today, really cemented how I feel about you and how even after three years of dating, I still get nervous and butterflies when you just look at me. Babygirl, I am in love you. God, I’m so in love with you. You are the most caring, sincere, beautiful, and intelligent person I’ve ever met. Thank you for showing me how to love you unconditionally, with passion and purity. You will always be the best part of my life. I say all that to ask, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?”
You quickly nodded as tears streamed down your face. Wardlow got up, put the ring on your finger, and kissed you as the hired photographer took pictures of you.
Hugging you, he kissed your forehead and looked up at the sky. You felt his body shake and looked down to see him shaking his leg, you laughed at him
“Does your knee hurt?”
“Yeah, a little bit.”
“Let’s book another massage, you old man.”
“The old man you’re gonna marry.”
Overall…Wardaddy is an amazing boyfriend who is gonna turn into a wonderful husband.
#aew#all elite wrestling#aew imagines#aew fics#wardlow#wardaddy#aew wardlow#wardlow imagine#wardlow fic#all elite wrestling imagines
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Love me again
pairing: ex-boyfriend!lucas x female!reader
summary: when you encounter your ex-boyfriend after four years after your break up and he asks for another chance
for the Red collab by @jeonronwoo
word count: 3,401
warnings: strong language, mentions of alcohol, domestic violence and mental illnesses, exes to lovers!au
a/n: I don’t how people are still feeling about Lucas but I already had this on the plans so I wanted to finish it and what a better time to post than when he makes a comeback to social media? hope SM gives us closure on the whole situation but in the mean time enjoy this poorly written story 😅 hope ya’ll enjoy it! ❤
☽ ・・・・・ ☾
“Thank you very much, you can wait at the end of the counter.” You smile at the costumer as you finish writing his name on the cup for his drink.
Getting ready on the system, you go ahead and great the next client.
“Welcome to ‘The Vision’, what can I get you today?”
“A venti iced coffee.” You stop recognising a voice you thought you’d never hear again. “And another chance?”
“L-Lucas?” Finally looking up, you freeze at a face you thought you’d never see again.
-
You met him in highschool. Typical bad boy, often spotted skipping class to go smoke behind the gym, his rudeness to colleagues and teachers constantly getting him detention but somehow managed to have good enough grades to get him through. Needless to say his popularity was not that great and he was definitely someone you wouldn’t like to be associated with. That was until you got pared with him for a school project.
You were the typical good girl. Not the best of your class but your grades were good. Never skipped or got detention, but you were classified as borderline nerdy so your popularity wasn’t through the roof. Honestly you didn’t care, you were just focused on finishing highschool and getting the hell out of this boring town. But for that you needed to keep your good grades and that was being threatened by getting pared with him.
At first you thought maybe you could do the whole project alone, that way you’d ensure you got a good grade and wouldn’t have to deal with him, but your conscience convinced you to give him a chance. That was error number one.
Almost an hour late, but Lucas eventually showed up at the library. It took some time to get him to do something but right before the deadline you two managed to get the project finished and delivered on time and you were actually surprised the under his careless atitude he actually did a good job that resulted in one of the best works on your class. After that you thought you could finally breathe and not have to hang out with him anymore but he had different plans. He sat next to you in class, even if it wasn’t in his typical seat in the back of the classroom, and you two started casually talking. As you got to know him better you realised that under that bad boy mask there was actually a nice guy so you let him in your life. That was error number two.
With time you grew closer and closer. The way he looked at you, talked with you, was different than with other people and you started feeling things. It all happened so naturally that when he leaned forward you gladly welcomed his lips on yours. That was error number three.
As the relationship grew, he opened up to you. You sat silently as he told you how his dad had problems with alcohol and used to hit his mom almost everyday, right in front of him, until he fled the scene. At the time Lucas was relieved but his mom just went into dark road into depression leaving him, an only child, to figure things out on his own. At that moment you understood the rebellion inside of him, it was not his fault. Foolishly in love you decided to help him, a typical case of ‘I can change him’ syndrome. That was error number four.
It took a while but you convinced him to let you help him study, so he can improve his grades and apply to college. It was hard work but your mission was successful and you even changed your plans to go to uni closer to him. That was error number five.
Moving into an apartment together, your relationship was better than ever and you couldn’t be happier. Lucas barely had any money so the house expenses pretty much fell over your parents pockets. Obviously they were not very happy with that but you defended him at all costs telling them how much he has changed. That was error number six.
A few months in something started to feel off. And then you found out he was failing most of his classes. You confronted him about it and, even though he seemed sorry about it, he told you he was quitting college. You argued about all the hard work you two had done to get him there but in the end you couldn’t force him to keep going. The following month he just either stayed in the house all day or just went out and spent money. Your parents money. Once they knew about this, they threatened to cut you off so you had a serious talk with Lucas that agreed to find himself a job and get some income. You trusted him and that was error number seven.
As you busted your ass with school and even getting a part-time job at a local cafe, you trusted he was doing what he promised, but it was a mess. He found a job at a bar but was fired about a week after, you don’t really understand why. He told you he was looking again but soon he started to come home drunk. The first time you pretended not to notice, after the second time you started to make up reasons in your head to excuse his behaviour, but then it started to get more frequent and it was starting to get on your nerves. A few weeks later, you were at home trying to relax after a dreadful day and there he came crumbling. But this time you had enough.
“Lucas?” You called out from the living room.
“Who else would it fucking be?” He mumbled, struggling to take off his jacket.
“Great…” Rolling your eyes, you leaned back on the couch.
“What now?” Finally he was able to take the jacket off and roughly throw it on the ground.
“It’s just great to see my boyfriend drunk in the middle of the day again.” You shook your head in disbelief of the words coming out of your mouth.
“Mind your fucking business.” His body tumbled to the other end of the couch.
“Well I am, when you’re out there spending my money on booze!” You got up, massaging your temples as you looked away from him.
“Oh, shut the fuck up.” He groaned, like he was doing nothing wrong.
“No, you shut the fuck up, Lucas! I’m tired of the same thing every day!” You turned back around almost screaming in rage.
“Whatever…” He huffed.
“Not whatever!” You finally let go.“I’m tired of busting my ass in school and work for you to just go ahead and have fun at my expense! You said you’re different but you’re just like your father-”
“What the fuck did you just say?” He suddenly got up preventing you for saying anything further.
“I-I’m sorry,” you quickly apologised as you shouldn’t have brought that up, “I didn’t mean to say that-”
“But you said it!” He rushed to you pushing you against the wall.”I’m not like that fucking coward you hear me?”
Your eyes widened as you noticed his hand pushed all the way back, tight in a fist and about to come down on you, before he stopped.
“Shit…” His flaming eyes came back to reality when he noticed what he was about to do.
“Were you going to hit me?” Your voice sounded stern but your whole body was shaking on the inside.
“Babe, I’m sorry-” Dropping his hands on his side, he gulped.
“Go ahead then. Hit me. Show me how different you are from your father by doing exactly what he did to your mom.” You challenged him.
“I…” He started to back away as he looked at his hands.
“I’m done Lucas.” You sighed. ”I tried to help you, but I can’t. I’m not strong enough for this. You need professional help.”
You went into your shared bedroom and grabbed a bag you had prepared because deep down you knew this day would come.
“I’m going to spend the night at Ahreum’s and when I come back I don’t want to see you or any of your shit here. It’s over.”
Lucas stood in the middle of the room, speechless as he watched you leave.
That was the last time you saw him. Until today.
The next day you came back and he was gone. Part of you felt sad he didn’t even try to fight for you, for what you two had built together. But another part of you was just knew that’s exactly what would happen and you felt relieved and free of the drama that came with Lucas.
-
“Hi.” His smile is soft and full of hope but leaves a mess inside your head.
“Kun, can you cover for me? I’m gonna take my break now.” You suddenly abandon your place behind the counter.
“S-sure.” Confused, your friend moves to the register as you disappear into the back. “You said venti iced coffee?”
“I’ll be right back.” Lucas flees out the front door leaving the other even more confused.
You open the backdoor that leads to an alley next to the coffee place you work in, panting as your heart is beating so fast you swear it will burst at anytime. You squat down, body shaking as a million thoughts go through your head. What is he doing here after all this time? How can he just walk up to you so casually after the way things went down? What does he expect to get out of this?
“Y/N…” You look up and there he is again, standing right in front of you.
Quickly you get back up and move towards the door to get back in, but he stops you.
“Wait! I just wanna talk!” He pleas and that makes your blood boil.
“What could you possibly have to say after all this time, Lucas?” The name that once gave you butterflies, rolls out of your tongue like razors cutting their way out. “You know what, I don’t even care, I don’t want to talk to you!”
“I know I have no right to do this but please just hear me out. You don’t have to say anything, just give me 2 minutes, please…” You can hear the desperation on his voice, even though he doesn’t raise his voice.
“Time’s counting.” Sighing you decide to let him speak.
“Ok ok, hm… I swear I had a speech prepared but it all vanished from my head now.” He scratches the back of his but then you give him a look that he knows he’d better not waste his time. “I know I screwed up. We had something great and I ruined it. You were so good to me and I just took you for granted so I ended up losing you.”
Taking a deep breath, you fight the tears that threaten to fall. He takes a step forward before continuing.
“Look, the day you sent me away finally opened my eyes. You’re the best thing that happened to me and I gave it all up. And for what? Nothing. So I left and I decided be a better person. For you. For us. I spent 2 years in a rehab center taking care of myself and 2 more getting myself together. I got a job, a small apartment and it really feels like I’m in the right path. I’m just missing one thing. You. Let me show I’ve changed. Please.”
“What makes you think there’s space in my life for you anymore?” You don’t know how you managed to get those words out of your mouth without cracking.
“I don’t know. I just…” He sighs. “I don’t want to believe our story is over. Just give me one more chance. If at any moment I even say the wrong thing just say it and I’ll disappear. For good this time. Please.”
“You don’t get to break my heart anymore, Lucas.” You gulp, trying to keep yourself together. “I promised myself I’d never let that happen again.”
“I won’t.” He looks straight into your eyes making you want to believe him so bad. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do that again.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this…” You mumble to yourself.
“What?”
“You have a week.” Turning around you reach for the door.
“Really?” Good thing you can’t see how his eyes sparkle with hope.
“Don’t make me regret this.” You turn around and glare at him. “I mean it.”
“I won’t, I promise!” You hear him cheer outside as you get back to work, pulling a silly giggle out of you.
All you did for the past 4 years was trying to forget him. And you thought you did, until he showed up in front of you and brought all those feelings back. Maybe a few years are not enough to get over the one you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with and that makes you look forward to giving him another chance. But unfortunately you can’t just erase the bad times from your memory. You sent him away for a reason. He says he’s changed but you have your motives for doubting it.
The next day he takes you for a walk by the river. It starts off with awkward silence, none of you knowing how to talk to each other anymore. But as you take a seat in a bench facing the water you start to catch up. The way he talks is different but in a good way, like he’s not trying to put that bad boy facade anymore, he’s just the sweet guy you once knew. It really seems like he’s getting his life back together and you could almost see yourself fit in it.
The next date is a dinner downtown. Not a fancy restaurant, but he knows you’re not a fan of those anyways, just a cozy little place with great food. As you ordered you decided to test him and order yourself some wine. He didn’t seem affected by it, happily drinking his sparkling water as you eat and talk. Perhaps your tricky move triggered some instant karma because the wine glasses keep coming and in no time you’re seeing double. Lucas, takes you home, trying hard to follow your blurred instructions. He gets you inside, but just like a movie scene you trip and fall on your bed, pulling him on top of you. Your faces are inches apart and you can’t even think straight, but all you want is to feel those lips back on yours. However when you get closer he pulls away. The next moments fade from your memory as you pass out and when you wake up there’s a cute little note with water and a pill, just what you need for the pounding in your head.
Later that day he knocks on your door. Embarrassment takes over you but he doesn’t for one minute mention the previous night. He brings food, thinking you might not be in the mood to cook, and then he heads to the door but you ask him to stay. You two eat and then watch a movie, sneaking glances at each other not really caring about the plot.
The following date is a quick coffee at ‘The Vision’ as you have to work two shifts. You talk about college and how it’s been hard for you to get a job in your field after graduating, leading you to work here to pay the bills. Your heart skips a beat when he takes your hand over the table and tells you how he truly believes you’ll be able to achieve all your hopes and dreams. It seems like such a cliché thing to say but coming from him just hits differently. Luckily it’s time to get back to work because you don’t know how to deal with the desperate will to give it all up and get back with him.
With almost a week of dates with Lucas, you hate how easily you were brought right back into his spell. But at the same time it just felt so right. He really seems to have changed. During these days there were numerous occasions that, a few years ago, would’ve made him flip off just because. But now he seems more collected. Maybe things could really work out this time. Just maybe.
And there comes the end of the week. He picks you up late at night after your shift and takes you to a viewpoint facing the whole city. A beautiful scenario that looked quite familiar. Lucas pulls out some snacks and sodas before you sit and watch the lights below you.
“Cheeto sticks and Mango Monster?” You chuckle checking what he brought.
“It was a long shot but I hope you still like those.” He smiles.
“I can’t believe you remembered…” Shaking your head with a grin, you take a sip from your drink.
“How could I forget? Us driving around the empty streets late at night and ending up in places like this, talking about the future…” His voice trails off recalling all the broken promises made on those nights.
“Little did we know how things would turn out.” You sigh.
“There’s still time to turn things around.” Turning his gaze to you, Lucas examines your face trying to read it. “We can bring back those nights. And all the other moments we shared.”
“Even the ones you were out spending my money on booze and I had to carry you to bed because you were so wasted?” You scoff, closing your eyes.
“That’s not gonna happen again.” He promises.
“But how do I know, Lucas?” You finally turn to him. “You’ve made promises but that you didn’t keep! You said you’d get a job and instead you went out and got drunk everyday. You said you’d never hurt me but somehow I was still left heartbroken. You said you’d be by my side and then you left.”
“You were the one who told me to go!” He tries to fight back. “I didn’t want to but I knew it was the best for us! I needed to get better to keep all those promises. I don’t think you understand how hard it was for me to be away from you all this time.”
“If it was that hard to be apart what took you so long to reach out?” You get up and take some steps forward. “Didn’t you get out of rehab two years ago?”
“Because I needed to make sure I was good enough to come back!” Getting up too, he stands right behind you. “I needed to make sure I wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. I wanted to get a job and make sure I was done drowning my sorrow with alcohol. I’ve been doing therapy, going deep into my problems, and it has really been helping me. But something’s missing. You’re missing.”
With the ends of your sweater, you wipe the tears off your cheeks, thinking about how hard it was for you too and how you kept waiting for him to reach out, even if you wouldn’t admit it.
“And I was scared.” He takes a deep breath. “What if I came back and you had moved on with someone else? Someone who treats you better. Someone who gives you all their time and support. Someone who loves you like I do. And worst, someone who you’d love more than you ever did me.”
Slowly you turn around and watch the moonlight shine on his wet cheeks, shoulders shaking and chest heaving.
“I know I have no right barging back into your life like this, but I had to try, one last time.” He shrugs, smiling through the tears. “I know I hurt you but I just wanted you to love me again.”
“How could I love you again, if I never stopped?” You catch a glimpse of his eyes widening as you run into his arms, connecting your lips after what seemed like an eternity.
You’ve made a lot of errors when it comes to Lucas, but for the first time if feels like you’re doing the right thing.
☽ ・・・・・ ☾
a/n 2: not gonna tag anyone on this one as I don’t know how you feel about Lucas and also no networks, but I promise more works are coming!
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Astro Observations 💘💌
• Jhené Aiko has a pisces stellium in her chart, no wonder she is ethereal, and carries spirituality as a huge part of her platform. I feel those with pisces in their big 3, or stellium could benefit from incorporating spiritual themes in their career/side hustle! Jhené has a wonderful way of connecting to her audience, and Pisces is very much in tune with the collectives energy. Pisces is dreamy & manifests easily due to their flowing nature! So pisces, ya’ll can greatly benefit from a spiritual side hustle to help grow yourselves 💅🏻🤍 I love jhené aiko 🤝
• She often talks about getting high in her songs which make so much sense. Pisces may use drugs, weed and alcohol as a way to escape. But when healing, they turn towards spirituality and themselves to face their shadows 🤗🫶 shadow world is incredibly important to all water signs to help settle their subconscious! And a way to open their heart so it can flow the way it’s meant to.
• Virgos when they were younger probably carried the most health issues ❤️🩹 virgo babies please take care of your health. I believe health issues are your bodies way of communicating strongly, it’ll tell you what needs to change in your life, and if what you’re pursuing is helping you/hurting you. Your body is strongly connected to the energies around you which is why it’s so in tune. Powerful 🤗💘 just like pisces.
• Saturn in the first have a way of finding comfort in their melancholy, they almost never want to leave. Especially if this native has cancer placements. Their past is their comfort and only source of predictability, thats why they stay the same, or it takes a long time to make inner changes. Even if their past was turbulent, they would rather be able to predict what happened, than to change and face the unknown ❤️🩹
• Libra venus are so sweet and definitely know how to talk your ear off in romance 💘🌸 golden retrievers for sure! All libra placements honestly ‼️
• Capricorn venus is very particular about who they date. Perfectionism is apart of their motive, which is unhealthy, but also they want someone who can equally help them and support them in their life. Lets be rocks together ‼️ kinda vibe lmao. Some capricorn venus’s want control to the point of not letting anyone in, it stems from fear of everything falling apart ❤️🩹
• 12th house synastry is truly unique. Every experience I’ve ever had is different, because it’s a water house. That kind of synastry will reflect exactly what needs healing in your subconscious, and in your heart. I’ve been in mature connections involving 12th house synastry, I saw how deeply spiritual it is & it has soulmate energy to it. Ive also been in connections that were turbulent, and fell apart because of the healing I needed to do. Now, of course other partners with 12th house synastry can have their own healing they were not committed to which also contributed! This is important to remember. Both partners need to heal and dedicate time to their shadow work to evolve, and move forward 🤝 12th house synastry is not bad, it is simply reflective of your innermost state when you meet that person. You are meeting yourself in another 🌸🌅
Thank ya’ll so much for reading 🤗🫶 this was cool to make again! I appreciate any likes reblogs and comments. Share to me what you think! 🙌🌸 see ya’ll around.
Distance Healing Services 💘💌
Paid Readings 🤝🤍
#devi post#astrology#tarotcommunity#divination#astrology community#tarot#tarot deck#witchcraft#tarot reading#astrology observations#astro posts#astrology notes#astro notes
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19 with two bit and a greaser of your choosing!
vulnerable
susceptible to physical or emotional attack or harm
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
In which we see the more vulnerable side of Two-bit
Pairing - N/A
Word Count - N/A
A/n: This relates back to my headcanons on Two after Johnny and Dals death. So.. be weary. Two-bit has such a special place in my heart, and I cry more writing for him than I do anyone else.
“I hope this is to your liking. Enjoy”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Two-bit couldn't believe what he had done. He ran out of his house. He couldn't stand to see his mom in tears. He couldn't see his younger sister scared of him. Keith didn’t mean to yell. He didn’t. It just..slipped. He didn’t mean it. He ran for the longest time to a place that he was familiar with now; The cemetery.
With tears running down his face, he sat in front of his friends’ graves. “I wish you were here man..nothin’s been the same with ya’ll gone. I've been failing my classes and Pony has been getting worse grades than normal. Darry’s tryin’ not to be hard on him but its tough..for all of us.” He wiped away his tears, sobbing quietly.
“I didn’t know where to go..I didn’t mean to. It just slipped out. I didn’t mean to yell at them, Johnny. I didn’t,” He cried out “I thought it was someone else..I didn’t mean to yell at my mom.” He cried over the graves. He wouldn’t cry, not normally. If Johnny and Dal were still here, he wouldn’t have yelled. None of this would’ve happened. “Dal I don’t know how you did it..be tough, and cold, i mean.. It's hard. How did you not care? How Dal!” Two-bit sobbed, slamming a fist on the ground.
“I miss you..both of you..I don’t want’a turn out like your dad, Johnnycakes. I don’t. You were my kid brother, and my little sister reminds me so much of you…I don’t want to see her scared. I never did. I never wanted to see you scared either.” He let out, calming down. If he was sober he never would’ve said any of this. It was the alcohol doing this to him.
A few minutes passed, and Keith got out his black handled switch-blade that he miraculously found a few weeks after they had died. Two-bit opened it, and looked at the blade. Stabbing the ground directly in front of Dallas’ tombstone, he confessed “I wish I was more like you, Dally.”
#twobit mathews#two bit mathews#headcannons#the outsiders#dallas winston#dally winston#johnny cade#prompts#prompt ask game#ask games#jay!!
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thoughts are thoughting tonight💭
imagine kat is acting a little strange because she has a surprise coming up? maybe she’s bringing nat’s family to new york for a birthday surprise? or maybe she’s throwing a surprise party? anyway nat can tell something is wrong but she’s a little upset kat hasn’t come to her so she leaves it alone until she’s ready… however nat finds a bottle of vodka shoved in the back of a cupboard (maybe maya left it there from a recent party? or a friend of lynn’s brought it to a girls night they had recently and maya completely forgot about it) but nat assumes it’s katya’s and all hell breaks loose☠️ maybe nat brings it up as katya is hiding her family in the garden so when nat loses it (unbeknownst to her) kat feels a little embarrassed and untrusted and actually shouts back instead of trying to explain until melina and alexei come out like hey ya’ll how ya doin
this probably would never happen bcos murderwives are too in sync but as i said thoughts are thoughting💭
Okay but the only reason they'd have a full on fight would be because Nat's afraid Kat's not taking good care of herself :(
Of course, her mind immediately goes to that when she finds alcohol hidden in the house. It only makes sense Nat's left with some trauma after that whole drama a few years ago. Of course, she knows how addicts are, and their skill in lying, so she doesn't fully trust Kat on her word because her own fears take over.
I imagine Maya would then very timidly admit, full of shame, that it's her bottle and that she'd never ever meant for either of them to find it. That she's so mad at herself for risking a relapse. Murderwives will then come together to talk their daughter down 🩷
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The Silent Treatment || Bretan & Olek || April, 2024
Brett: "I'm hooome," Brett announced as he walked through the front door, feeling his entire body sigh in relief as the quiet of his house settled over him. Well, the relative quiet. Woodstock was doing his usual happy song and dance to welcome him home but that wasn't a nuisance. It had been a very, very long day and hearing his dog bark in excitement was music to his ears.
"Hey, buddy." Brett scooped him up and gave him a pet, wondering why he didn't hear Bo until he remembered that his husband had texted him earlier telling him that he'd be going out. "Guess it's just us. You hungry? Where's your brother?" Brett looked around. "Oleeeeek. I brought tunaaaaaa."
Olek: A series of chirps and trills started from the top of the stairs, bouncing gently with every step until reaching the first floor, where a tortoiseshell cat stretched its long legs and yawned, showing off his perfect pearly fangs.
A proper greeting this time in the tone of "Brrrr?" as he trotted over to the ghoul and pretended to use his leg as a scratching post. A little game he played. No claws today.
Brett: Like with Woodstock's barking, there was an instant ridiculous smile on Brett's face the moment he heard that first little chirp. This right here was his reward for the day he'd had.
"Awwww, big yawn," he chuckled, switching the shopping bags he was carrying over to the hand that was still holding Woodstock so he could scratch Olek's head. "Hey, fluffy baby. Did you have a good day? Lots of napping?" His arms were already full but he didn't care; the cat was being scooped up, too.
Olek: Purrect. Maybe someone would find it odd that a cat would hug a human's neck, but not in this house. Quite normal for both Bo and Brett to receive such affection. Same with the curious sniffs at his hair, his face, and when he had the opportunity, his hands.
Brett: There would be plenty of interesting things to smell on Brett today, but almost none of them were particularly pleasant. Aside from the usual scents of his body products and the station and his car, there was sweat, alcohol, car exhaust, and body odor that did not belong to him.
“Ya’ll wouldn’t believe the day I had,” he sighed, nuzzling into Olek and Woodstock’s fur as he carried them to the kitchen. “Lady almost caused a traffic accident because she was texting and ran a light and then tried to argue with me about it when I pulled her over. Oh, and that was after I actually managed to pull her over. She almost took me on a high-speed chase. Why are tourists like that?”
Olek: Well, that sounded terrible and exciting! Better than the scent of ash stuck to his skin after being in the presence of his domitor. The poor man seemed to only have a break at home. Time for some heavy-duty nuzzles to wipe the day from his skin and clothes.
Brett: Only around his animals did Brett feel comfortable enough to giggle, and aggressive cat nuzzles always got him.
“Awwww, thank you, honey.” He kissed Olek’s head and set the bags on the counter and him and Woodstock on the floor.
“I’m gonna go shower and then we’re gonna make some dinner, okay? And we’re not gonna tell Bo about the fresh tuna or the chicken I’m gonna make ya’ll. It’ll be our secret.”
Olek: Fresh?! Not from a can?! Bo's journal had called Olek his familiar - November 2010 - and some days there was no mistaking his awareness. His noises were long and grateful, circling Brett's leg quite recklessly.
Brett: “Oh my goodness!” Brett carefully walked over to the fridge to put everything away, making sure he didn’t one, trip or two, accidentally step on Olek. “Are you so happy, honey? Are you a happy fluffy boy? Watch your feet.”
He was almost certain that if he could’ve, Olek would open the fridge and help himself. His lack of thumbs was all that stood between him and being a little menace.
“I’ll slice it up for you as soon as I’m done, okay? You be good and wait for me.”
Olek: Fine, fine. He would sit on his hunches and wait.
Little did Brett seem to realize, that was exactly what happened when there was no one to entertain him but Woodstock. The many nights when leftovers would go missing, furniture shifted, and Bo's clothes out of order, it had been none other.
They both seemed to have forgotten what he was.
As often as he thought about revealing himself to Brett, asking politely for his aid in breaking his curse, he thought just as often what a terrible idea that was. He'd heard every story of every unsavory incident in his absence. Really, did he want the ghoul to faint? Absolutely not!
So, there he sat, eying the fridge and... maybe he could just... no, no. He'd wait.
Brett: Showering, like coming home and loving on his animals, was always a balm after a hard day. It was one of those comforting little rituals that always seemed to help no matter how he was feeling or how long he spent actually doing it. Feeling better started with feeling clean.
He was gone just shy of fifteen minutes and returned smelling like himself, which was exactly how things should be. “Okay, I’m back. Thank you for being a good, patient boy.”
As he set about getting everything to prep for dinner, he continued telling Olek and Woodstock about his day.
“So after the texting lady, I got called down to the docks because those kids that’ve been sneaking onto people’s boats to party finally got caught. One of them got too drunk and ended up passing out. Owner of the boat found him this morning with his pants half off and sharpie all over his face, snoring away. His friends drew dicks on him while he slept.”
Olek: Woodstock was a bit oblivious to what was being said, but enjoyed the sound of his master's voice. It was Olek who climbed onto the bar stool across from the ghoul and sat handsomely, watching intently as Brett talked about his day. Not the first, and guaranteed not his last.
His eyes softly blinked. He chattered his pleasure at the story and placed his paw on the table. Just testing the waters.
Brett: Brett couldn’t help but smile at the cat. Sweet boy. He always listened so patiently to all of Brett’s rambling, as if he really understood everything Brett was saying.
Granted, he was a magical cat so maybe he actually could. But without the ability Brett had once had to communicate with animals, he’d never know for sure.
The ghoul took that little paw in his hands and gently squished each tiny toe bean in turn. Truthfully, he was kind of grateful he couldn’t talk to Olek. Better to assume that the cat didn’t mind listening than to potentially be asked to quit his yapping all the time.
“Should’ve seen his parents, they were mortified. They’re gonna let him stew in a holding cell for a couple days to teach him a lesson. Hopefully it sticks. Oh, and that meth head is back. Again.”
Brett sighed and went to grab the tuna from the fridge.
“I got the pleasure of helping Peabody chase him down. Guy smelled like he hadn’t showered since Christmas.”
Olek: Brett gave the best massages. Bo avoided him most days, looking at him with eyes most hurtful, confused. The days he did receive attention, it was when the mage was half asleep. Scratches behind his ear, just as he used to.
"Ech," said Olek. That didn't sound pleasant at all.
Brett: “Yep, exactly. It’s just my bad luck that we got the call about him right after we’d had lunch. I almost saw it again.”
Brett shook his head. That particular little scene had all but drained him, literally and figuratively. He would’ve stopped at Guildias’ to fill his tank, so to speak, but his domitor was busy. It would be another day or two before he could top up.
“Peabody hosed him down before we brought him into the station. I swear that water ran brown.” Another shake of his head. “Maybe being roommates with him in holding will scare that kid straight.”
He considered the tuna for a moment before deciding how he wanted to cut it. Sashimi? Yeah, he’d go with that.
Olek: His other paw joined the first. He stretched again. Sleeping sixteen hours a day requires a significant wake-up period. Another yawn and a vigorous shake of his head.
Ah, but what was Brett doing now? He'd stretch his back legs while he watched, trying not to imagine brown water while he enjoyed the scent of tuna.
Brett: “I should tell whoever is on duty to febreeze the car and let it air out overnight so it doesn’t smell for the next six months. County isn’t about to give us the money to have it professionally cleaned.” Even though all the squad cars could certainly use it. God knew B.O. wasn’t the worst thing that seeped into those seats.
“Actually, I think Peabody might still be at the station. He wanted to pull some overtime since he’s saving for his—ow, fuck! Dammit, Brett.”
He’d gotten distracted. He was too busy talking and thinking about the day and not paying enough attention to what he was doing. He’d sliced his hand right open.
He set the knife aside and tried not to drip blood in the floor as he turned to run his hand under the sink.
Olek: Wasn't the first time the sheriff had cut himself while talking. He was a sweet man, but sometimes as clumsy as children. Not all children. One came to mind that was only reckless with spellcasting.
But, he didn't dwell. He was sitting up, craning his head for a better view of the ghoul's injury. How bad was it this time?
Brett: “Don’t worry, buddy, I’m okay,” Brett said soothingly to Woodstock, who was making that little whining noise he made whenever he sensed his owner was in distress.
The ghoul looked over at the cutting board, relieved to see that none of his blood had gotten on Olek’s dinner. At least something had gone right today.
Without thinking, Brett shut the water off and grabbed a paper towel to dry his hands. “I’ll get your chicken going as soon as I’m done with the fish. Actually, you know what?” No harm in putting the water on now. It would take a bit to boil anyway.
But as Brett reached to open the cabinet for a pot, he froze.
Olek: Woodstock whined for many reasons. He was a rather anxious little fellow, but the scent of blood gripped the cat's attention, watching just as intently as the previous conversation. No chirps or trills, just waiting.
The scent had yet to dissipate, and that was... new.
Brett: Brett was staring at his outstretched hand as if in a daze, heartbeat quickening and chest tightening.
Over the years he’d become accustomed to shrugging off minor injuries. Bumps and bruises seemed to practically heal themselves with very little effort on his part and normally, something as simple as a cut would’ve begun to heal before he’d even managed to turn the sink on.
But that could only happen if he’d been fed recently, or if he hadn’t been using his abilities.
The day he’d been telling Olek about had drained him. Quite literally. It had taken a great amount of strength and effort to wrangle the meth head, even with Peabody’s help. The chase had left Brett exhausted and without the ability to heal himself as he usually did.
The cut on his hand had remained open and, having been deeper than he’d first thought, was now steadily bleeding.
Onto the floor and onto his skin.
It was the stomach-churning sensation of it running across his hand that had Brett snapping out of it and bolting for the sink again, desperately scrubbing at his hand under the full blast of the tap turned as hot as it could go.
Olek: This wasn't normal. He knew normal, having lived under their collective roofs and seen Brett nearly every single day for years. He would wince, cringe at the sight of blood, and heal himself. It was the way of things, and yet blood stained the immaculate floor like sloppy drippings of chartreuse paint. He didn't have to know its true color to recognize the scent.
Brett could walk himself to the car and drive to the hospital, but he wasn't. He was no different than an anxious child on the verge of tears.
That's right... he was afraid of blood now. A story he had not witnessed. Something about Woodstock? A vampire? Something, he forgot.
If ever there was a time to be helpful before the ghoul scraped skin away in desperation.
His transformation was slow. It had been some weeks since he had snuck out of the house, exploring Edenton in human form. Precious time to allow his limbs to elongate, his fur to recede. Brett was too busy to notice a man of over 6 feet, in linin trousers, V-neck shirt, long cardigan and scarf manifest just feet away.
"Brett," came a gently warm, soothing voice.
Brett: In truth, Brett wouldn’t have noticed if god had descended from heaven and appeared in the kitchen. All he could see, all he could focus on, was the hot water washing over the cut on his hand.
What blood there had been had quickly been rinsed away but Brett could still see and feel it. His hand wasn’t clean. It wouldn’t be clean until the cut had healed but maybe if he scrubbed a little harder and maybe if the water was a little bit hotter, it would be. He had to try. He had to be clean.
He heard his name, or thought he did, but it sounded very far away. It was probably his imagination. Like the hearts on the tile. Like the scent of lavender.
He reached for the dish sponge so he could scrub harder and didn’t realize his vision had blurred because of the tears in his eyes.
Olek: His name wasn't enough to interrupt the panic stinging his eyes and trembling his hands.
Human form had been avoided in Brett's presence for this very reason. He was a capable ghoul, a good husband, a man of strong morals suitable for his profession, but an innocent flighty creature.
"Brett," he said again, more firmly to be heard above the faucet. "Look at - Look at Olek, please."
Swift thinking, he held his hands up, elbows to his ribs, submissive and unarmed, for the sheriff's peace of mind.
Brett: It wasn’t his name but his cat’s that finally got Brett’s attention and made him look away from the sink, though what he saw did nothing to calm to his panic.
What it did do was make him freeze again.
A man—a man he did not recognize—was standing with him in the kitchen. He must have been he one that had spoken, and somehow knew both his name and Olek’s.
Brett’s teary gaze searched this stranger’s face first with trepidation, and then with confusion. A question was beginning to penetrate through the haze.
Why wasn’t Woodstock barking at this stranger?
Olek: At least he wasn't screaming. That was progress! The familiar did his best to keep his expression gentle, his voice calm and his movements fluid.
"Good. Yes." Fingertips softly tapped over his heart. "Olek. I'm... I'm Olek. Yes." The simpler he kept his words, the easier, he assumed, it would be to wade through his anxiety.
He then pointed to the ghoul's hand.
"I... help?"
Brett: …Olek? The stranger was Olek?
Brett peered around the stranger at the barstool where Olek had been sitting while he’d cut his tuna. It was empty.
He looked down at the floor, but all he saw was Woodstock sitting at his feet, still making his anxious little noises and ignoring the man completely. There was no cat in sight.
His mind wasn’t exactly cooperating at the moment but…he couldn’t seem to find a reason to doubt what he was being told.
He gave a cautious nod.
Olek: Strands of blond, brown, and black were combed back from his eyes. He took a cautious step closer, then another. Eventually, he cupped his hands in offer.
With his aversion to red, he assumed Brett would look away. He didn't have to wonder what the color really looked like. He had an assumption in his dreams. Not at all his lovely blues and greens.
He remembered when Bo was a teenager, what helped him, and took a slow breath.
"Mama said there'll be days like this, there'll be days like this, Mama said..."
Not full voice. One could barely call it singing, just above a whisper. His attempt at keeping the atmosphere light, as he pressed his thumb against the wound. First, to stop the bleeding, and then with a sympathetic wince, he pressed harder, numbing the area.
"Mama said there'll be days like this..."
Brett: Was this all just his imagination? Brett couldn’t help but wonder as he held out his hand to this man that wasn’t a man but actually his cat.
Even though his hand was starting to bleed again, Brett didn’t panic or become fixated on it again. He was too busy staring at the man’s face. It would’ve been more than enough distraction even before he started to sing.
His voice was nice. Gentle. And it gave such a surreality to the situation that it was actually keeping him grounded while his wound was taken care of.
Was this really Olek? Could Olek turn into a human because he was a magic cat? Had he been able to do it this whole time? Why hadn’t Brett seen him like this before?
So many questions to keep him calm and distracted.
Olek: There was the bleeding, and his hand should have been sufficiently numb, as if circulation had been cut for a few minutes. A temporary fix as he continued. This would have been over sooner had he put his mouth to the wound, but intuition told him not to dare attempt with a ghoul, so instead, he pinched. Pinch and mend, pinch and mend.
"Olek - I thought you were going to faint." Not just now, but seeing him... ever.
Brown-green eyes looked up from the wound, and his smile easily reached them.
Back to singing.
Brett: The numbness almost tempted him to look down at his hand but he didn’t dare. He knew better than to push himself when he didn’t need pushing.
It was enough to know that Olek was helping him.
Brett nodded. That was a fair assumption to make. He still could, but he didn’t think he would. He didn’t feel like he was in danger or anything.
“Why…” He swallowed. “Why haven’t…?”
Olek: The inevitable question. They would work through it slowly, like this wound. He took a deep breath from his nose, and kept his smile on his features.
"Because I didn't want to scare you."
Brett: He frowned. “Then…why didn’t Bo tell me?”
Olek: "He did."
Brett: “He did?” Had Brett forgotten? No, that was impossible. He’d remember being told their cat could turn into a person, wouldn’t he? But maybe…
Olek: "He said, 'Look, Olek is familiar,'" he pointed to an invisible book, flipped a nonexistent page.
Brett: “Fam—ohhh.” Olek was right. Bo had told him about Olek being a familiar after finding that information in his diary but until now, it hadn’t occurred to Brett to wonder what that actually meant.
Magic cat didn’t just mean magic cat; it apparently meant a magic cat who could turn into a person.
“Wait, then do you…turn into a person…around Bo?”
Olek: The familiar shook his head.
"All better. Olek clean. Don't look."
Brett: Brett didn’t need to be told twice. He closed his eyes and covered them with his other hand for good measure.
Olek: There he was, moving about the house as a part of it. Wetting paper towel and setting to work on the floor, another for the counter while he hummed.
"Better?" not physically, of course. He knew as much. No more tears?
Brett: Even after Olek spoke again, it was still another couple of seconds before Brett worked up the nerve to open his eyes.
They were, in fact, free of tears and a little clearer. Not as panicked.
He nodded. “I’m okay. Thank you.”
Olek: Olek's smile immediately ached with its intensity. "Good." The stained paper towels were shoved all the way down to the bottom of the trash bag. Out of sight out of mind.
"You need practice."
Brett: Was this really his cat? Brett had no reason to doubt it but it was still so surreal. He’d seen magic before but this was different.
Magic didn’t usually put an entire person in front of him.
“Practice?”
Olek: "Mm. No more fear. No crying. Why didn't you heal? The color?"
Brett: “Oh. Um…” Brett subconsciously rubbed at his freshly healed hand.
“I’m low on uh…I think I used my abilities too much today and I need to go see…”
Olek: "Oh." He didn't know how to feel about Brett's circumstances. Reminded him too much of Bo's predicament, and everything that followed. His master must have really changed to allow this relationship to flourish. Good? Bad? It wasn't that simple.
"I... should have..." he gestured to his face, "...sooner."
Brett: He’d never thought about disappointing his cat, and he really hoped that having to give that answer hadn’t done it.
Brett shook his head. “No, please don’t be sorry. You couldn’t have guessed how I’d react. Expecting me to faint was a fair assumption to make.”
Olek: At least he took it in stride. That made him laugh, light and bubbly.
Brett: Brett couldn’t have fought his smile if he’d wanted to. Olek’s laugh was so cute. It made him want to—
His eyes widened.
How often did he kiss and cuddle Olek? How many times had he done it today alone? There wasn’t a day that went by without Brett babying him and now—
“Does—does it bother you how affectionate I am? I’m so sorry if it’s ever made you feel uncomfortable.”
Olek: Brett's widening eyes widened his own, though not with worry, but playfully mirroring his expression, smile still warm on his features.
"If I didn't want it, you'd know." Playfully, he swiped a manicured hand over Brett's chest.
Brett: Yes, he supposed that was true. Olek had never been shy about letting them know when he didn’t like something. Still, he didn’t quite know how to feel now that he’d seen Olek’s human face.
Would it bother Bo? He’d never said anything but…
“Oh god, you’ve seen—” Everything. Olek had seen absolutely everything.
Olek: Fingers came up to his lips, trying his best not to laugh, and failing gloriously. It was nice seeing Brett like this. Better than what was happening minutes ago. This was much better.
"Your secret's safe with me. All of them."
Brett: “Oh god,” Brett repeated, chucking helplessly as he covered his quickly reddening face with his hands. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
He wouldn’t be stepping out of the bathroom without wearing at least a towel from now on. Olek didn’t need to see all that.
Olek: Maybe Brett needed a little reminder that it really was alright, and the man before him really was just as accepting as the cat he had known. He reached out, wrapping long pale fingers around Brett's wrists, bringing them away just far enough to press a warm kiss between his eyes. A gesture so often done with nuzzles and licks just yesterday. Feel familiar?
Brett: If he needed any more evidence that the man before him really was Olek, how okay Brett was being touched by him proved it beyond all doubt. This man who didn’t like to be touched by anyone but his nearest and dearest didn’t feel the slightest unease or discomfort being touched and kissed by Olek.
Why should he when Olek gave him kisses just like that one all the time?
Brett smiled as some of his shyness dissipated. Very familiar indeed. “You know, I was really happy the first time you did that. It felt like you’d finally accepted me.”
Olek: "You treat my master so well." His voice was nothing more than a whisper. Their conversation was private. Not even for Woodstock's oblivious ears. "You're not a mage, but you're mine, too."
A glance was given to the clock stove, to the tuna forgotten on the counter.
"He'll be home, soon."
Brett: “I try my best.” Hearing that had warmth blooming in Brett’s chest. It was nice to hear someone he loved laying claim to him in such a gentle way.
“You better eat that tuna before I get scolded for spoiling you. Unless…do you not want to see Bo in this form?”
Olek: And, there it was. Did they have time to talk about this? He looked at the clock again. His chest caved with an exhale.
"I can't."
Brett: “You can’t? Are you not allowed to?”
Olek: Thank his lucky stars this wasn't a curse he couldn't discuss. Those were far too common!
But, he needed to be comfortable talking about this, so he took to the counter and crossed his legs.
"When he left," he gestured long ago, "Ol - I said to him, don't go. Bad feeling," he patted his stomach. The more he spoke, the more his amalgamation accent came shining through. "He said I was paranoid, emotional. I said he never listen to me, and called him hjerteløs. We wouldn't take back words. I said 'Olek's not speaking to you until you apologize!' and then, he said 'never!' and we curse," he pointed between himself and the door, where Bo would eventually return.
"And then he didn't come home. And he... didn't come home. And then he comes home and he's... not... him."
Brett: Brett’s heart broke a little more with every word Olek spoke, for both him and Bo. To think that Olek had correctly sensed something would happen. To think that maybe if Bo had listened then none of what he’d gone through would’ve happened.
It was a nightmare that never seemed to end, even when they thought it had. Poor Olek had never even gotten that small comfort.
The height of the counter wouldn’t deter Brett from hugging the man sitting on it. He was tall enough to reach and glad for it.
Olek: He saw just in time to uncross his legs. Coming from the ghoul, he knew this sympathy to be genuine. His back hunched, arms draped over Brett's shoulders. With the weight of his cheek buried in his hair, he closed his eyes. He felt he should be comforting him, not the other way around, so he did.
"It's all right. I thought... I thought one day, he would remember. It's... boring, waiting. But... I thought you'd be scared."
Brett: Brett didn’t know what it said about him that feeling blood on his skin scared him far more than seeing a cat turn into a man. Probably that he’d seen too much.
“I think we’ve all hoped that he would, someday,” he said softly, rubbing Olek’s back. “But I think, at this point, we have to make peace with the fact that those memories are gone. Who Bo used to be doesn’t exist anymore. There’s only the man he is now.”
He sighed and hugged Olek a little tighter. “Would you like me to talk to him? To tell him what you just told me and that I saw you in this form?”
Olek: That was a statement he'd never heard before. Eight years, and he had missed the part where someone had said that. The curse was broken, but that didn't mean his memories weren't in a jar somewhere they could break. Maybe they were, but no one was looking. Maybe.
But this Bo... didn't know him at all.
"I first saw him when he was nine. He was crying. I thought, that's too young to be so lonely. So, I waited. It didn't get any better. He's still... " my boy.
He nuzzled into Brett's hair, if only to prevent tears.
"Ok," he said wetly, "Yes."
Brett: If there was a jar, it was probably Bo’s journals. They were all his husband had of his old life. His old memories.
But Brett was certain that if a way did exist for Bo to recover everything he’d lost, that Bo would either find it or find someone who could.
Brett’s heart broke again for that lonely little boy.
He nodded. “He’s still that kid to you, right? You see him and see your Bo.”
Subconsciously, Brett had begun swaying back and forth ever so gently, almost rocking Olek. “I’ll help you get him back. I promise.”
Olek: All this time, at least Bo had someone to hold him, to take his hand when he wanted to throw something, to weigh him down against sleepwalking. To be there when he couldn't with hands and voice and power.
He was nigh immortal. He would continue on long after Bo's death, but he had missed eight years of conversations, of usefulness. It had been fine, under the assumption one day Bo would remember the man on the train. He didn't have every ounce of information. Now he had a little more, and it stung.
"He's my boy," he agreed, forcing himself to sit up. "But he's not a child. He's my favorite person. I can tell him everything, but... he won't want it."
Brett: “No, he’s not a child. But accepting you, accepting this?” He gestured at Olek. “Means getting another piece of himself back. He’s a smart man. Even when his anger gets the best of him he can still think. You owe it to yourself to try. And I owe it to you, too.”
Olek: "You owe me?"
Brett: Brett nodded. “For taking care of the person I love most. For never giving up on him. For listening to me ramble every day. For putting up with me.”
Olek: He was shaking his head before he finished. "Olek doesn't put up with you," he said without hesitation, without thinking, even. "Olek loves you."
Brett: Olek was getting another hug. An even tighter one this time.
“I love you, too, fluffy baby.”
Olek: The familiar snorted, and buried his face in Brett's hair again to bury some of his laughter. Hearing that in human form was even sweeter. Maybe Brett wasn't thinking, either.
Brett: Brett definitely wasn’t. But even if he was thinking, he’d have done the same thing. ‘Fluffy baby’ was Olek’s nickname regardless of what form he was in.
“Go on and eat your tuna. Bo will be back any minute.”
Olek: Eating in this form was a luxury these days. The only money still in his pocket were kroner. He hadn't studied every intricate detail of American dollars to perfectly conjure, yet.
He took a piece of tuna between his fingers and tilted his head back. Perfect flavor.
"My favorite," he sighed. Bliss. "Bowls of rice and fish and fish eggs. Nothing better."
Brett: Brett made a mental note of that. If at all possible, he wanted Olek to be able to have his favorite meal as often as he could.
That heavily depended on whether Brett would be able to get through to Bo, but he refused to be pessimistic about that.
“I’ll get you some fresh fish more often. Would be a shame to live in a fishing town and only have access to the canned stuff.”
Olek: "I've done," what was the word? "...gateforestilling downtown." He felt in his pocket, pulling out a small wad of wrinkled kroner, dropped on the counter. "When I want another taste, or bored," he smiled.
The front door rattled, buttons pushed and a woman's voice announcing Bo's entrance. A smart house, just like the last, and the last Brett would see of Olek as he immediately shrank, dropping the last piece of tuna he had pinched in his fingers.
And just like that, the forest cat was sprinting upstairs.
Brett: “Do you—” Before Brett could get the question out, the electronic lock was heralding Bo’s arrival and Olek was gone. He’d moved so fast that Brett half expected him to leave a little cloud of dust behind.
“Hey baby,” Brett called to his husband, shoving the money in his pocket and tossing the last little bit of tuna to Woodstock.
Bo: Keys and wallet were tossed in the black bowl near the door. Shoes softly clacked from the floor to the white rug, to the kitchen limestone. Today was a suit. Already adjusting his tie when he laid eyes on his husband.
A cursory glance later, "Busy day?" barely a questioning inflection.
Brett: Brett was smiling before Bo even walked into the kitchen. His mage looked like a million bucks, but then he always did. “Very busy and very tiring. One stupid thing after another. Yours?”
Bo: "I paid your vampire a visit." He had kept this secret under his tongue for weeks. Was high time to explain. "Invested in his business." And exchanged points of interest. "We've had a conversation about his situation, yours, mine. The town is continuing to grow. Touching base was necessary."
Brett: Brett blinked at his husband. "You did? When?" It couldn't have been today, Guildias had said he was busy. Or maybe what he had been busy with was this meeting with Bo? Although if that was the case, wouldn't he have told Brett?
Whatever the case, this certainly wasn't information he expected to be getting today. He didn't quite know how to feel about it.
"Did it go...well?"
Bo: His tie was pulled away entirely, folded, and placed on the kitchen counter. He could smell seafood but didn't see seafood. Where was his cat?
"Of course." He wasn't the tongueless child Guildias had met years ago. When he spoke, it was with authority now.
"You look tired."
Brett: It didn't go unnoticed that Bo had only answered one of his questions, but given what was in Brett's plans, he didn't think it would be wise to push. Besides, asking when Bo had gone to see Guildias was only for his own curiosity.
Brett nodded. "I am. It was a very long, very chaotic day. What would you like for dinner?"
Bo: Something comforting, he thought. What was the most comforting thing Brett could make?
"Soup and sandwich." By sandwich, he meant open-faced, filled to capacity with just about anything and everything from the fridge. He couldn't remember the details of Norwegian childhood, but certainly the cuisine still resonated.
"Are you going to tell me about your day?"
Brett: “Coming right up,” he said with a smile. “Is potato and leek soup okay?” As for the sandwich, Bo would be offered a choice between rye and whole wheat bread.
He nodded. “Which part do you want to hear about first? Speeding lady, meth head, or the teenager who woke up with penises drawn all over his face?”
Bo: "All in one day?" The city really was growing. Or deteriorating. He didn't know which. Probably both. Growth and deterioration were probably bedfellows.
He took to the stool nearest his husband.
"Did anyone hurt you?"
Brett: “Yep, alllll in one day. Started the day with the speeding lady.” He shook his head. “Tourists.”
Time to wash and chop vegetables for soup.
“Nope, no one hurt me. Not even the meth head, although it helped that Peabody and I went after him together. We got worn out but there were no injuries. Unless you count having to smell the guy on the drive back to the station.”
Bo: Bo nodded once, satisfied to know Brett hadn't needed to heal and conceal an injury before his return. Wouldn't have been the first time, but now he was in the habit of asking.
"I don't miss the station," was a lie.
Brett: “The station sure misses you,” Brett said with a grin, paying closer attention to the knife in his hand this time. He didn’t want a repeat of a little while ago.
“Two people in particular.”
Bo: "There's only two people ever there," he smirked.
Brett: Brett beamed at his husband. “And they both miss you a whole awful lot. Come and have lunch with me tomorrow. I don’t have to go out on patrol.”
Bo: "Fine," he said, softly. The station was generally avoided these days for no other reason than memories. A rare precious thing, but he didn't appreciate the man he was when riddled with a killing curse.
You're the only reason I'm here, he thought.
"Do you need me?" in the kitchen.
Brett: He shook his head. “Go and shower and get changed. Dinner won’t be long, I’ll give you a shout when it’s ready.”
Bo: Back from the stool, then, taking his tie with a heavy hand.
"I have something I want to discuss after dinner. Ideas for the house. Spells," he said, disappearing from view for the stairs.
"God ettermiddag, Olek," heard seconds later.
Brett: “Okay, we’ll do that. I’ve got something to talk to you about, too.”
The greeting to Olek made Brett smile. With any luck, Bo’s relationship with his familiar could be fully repaired and they’d have the comfort of their bond in its entirety. He wanted that for both of them so much.
Bo/Olek: Brett’s statement followed him up the stairs and to the shower. Olek leapt from his arms onto the tightly made bed of black and white, turned three times, and collapsed with a familiar comforting chirp.
The Etherite stared, wondering why, if what he had written was true, he had only mentioned Olek once in his journal. He stared, and the cat stared back.
His shower was long and searing. His thoughts were static and independent.
"What did you want to talk about?" Bo called from the top of the stairs.
Brett: When Bo returned, soup was simmering on the stove and the fridge was being raided for sandwich ingredients.
There had been basically no time between his conversation with Olek and Bo coming home, so Brett had barely had any time at all to think about how he was going to broach the subject. But maybe that was a good thing. It left less room for overthinking and worrying.
Sincerity was the only viable way forward. Sincerity and optimism.
Brett looked toward the stairs when he heard his husband’s voice and smiled, taking a deep breath.
“Olek,” he said simply. “I talked to him today.”
Bo: "You talk to him every day."
Bo turned the corner in black silk pajamas, hair still damp and nearly reaching his eyebrows. He was well overdue for a haircut.
Brett: He nodded. “I do, yeah. And usually when I talk to him, he’s a cat. Today was different.”
His voice was level, his demeanor calm. They could’ve been talking about absolutely anything.
“Today when I was talking to him, he turned into a person.”
Bo: A lot was going on behind Bo's stillness. The kind of stillness that usually followed deadpan seething and perhaps something broken. Words behind teeth when dealing with the unenlightened. Brett was neither an annoyance nor ignorant. The stillness was for himself, because what followed Brett's words was... nothing. Not a single tickle in his ear canal.
His husband wasn't lying.
"That's ridiculous," he heard himself say anyway. "He's never..."
Brett: Brett was braced for anger. For confusion. For flat out denial. He was ready for whatever his husband’s reaction might be and intended to meet it head on.
He nodded. “I was surprised, too. I almost couldn’t believe it until he reminded me he was a familiar. Makes sense that a magic cat can turn into a person.”
There were times when Brett let his voice become soothing and gentle to comfort Bo but this wasn’t the situation for that. It was liable to make it worse.
In cases like these, he made sure to speak calmly and rationally and answer every single question he was asked clearly because that was what his husband required to process things.
“I know he hasn’t. I asked him why he’d never shown himself as a person to me and he told me it was because he didn’t want to scare me. I also asked him if he’d ever shown himself to you and he told me he hadn’t since you’d reunited with him because he can’t.”
If given the go ahead to explain, Brett would repeat the story that Olek had told him about his last conversation with Bo.
Bo: What made anything out of Brett's mouth from this moment forward complicated was hearsay. He was telling the truth, his truth. It could have been a lie, but it wasn't in his belief, so what was Bo supposed to do with that?
How could he feel sorry for something he couldn't remember? He didn't possess that amount of sincerity for anyone.
His eyes closed. And then, a scoff.
"When we weren't around... he could have written a note. He could have said something in the fucking door cam if he really wanted. And I'm supposed to - I'm supposed to believe that?"
Brett: “I don’t know if the door cam would be a viable option since he can’t show himself to you, but if he did write you a note, would you believe it?”
Without his memories, Bo had absolutely no reason to believe Olek’s story. All they had to pin their hopes on was whether he’d believe and listen to Brett, and there were no guarantees there.
“If I asked him to write you a letter or I don’t know…recorded his voice so you could hear his explanation from him, would you be willing to listen?”
Bo: Bo held his hands out. The typical stop signal when teetering on a razor's edge. He leaned himself against the wall, staring at the floor. It wasn't Brett. No... No anger with his husband.
It was that small part of himself that refused to believe he had cursed someone unintentionally. Or it had been intentional, and then, what happened to him days later...
That small part was metastasizing rapidly.
"How many people can lie to you. To you?"
Brett: Brett nodded and stopped. He was pushing it. He could practically feel that he was pushing it. The fact that he’d managed to relay Olek’s entire story was already a major accomplishment, and he was grateful to have done that much at least.
The rest was in Bo’s hands.
“Not very many,” Brett said quietly. “I’m a cop. I’m a ghoul. It’s hard for an average human to lie to me but I’m not infallible. Someone who really knows what they’re doing could get one over on me.”
Bo: "Does it sound..." He couldn't ask that. He couldn't ask if it sounded like something he would have done. With the first uttered words, reality came down heavy on his shoulders, visibly sagging.
Brett: He didn’t know what Bo had been about to ask, but he could guess.
Does it sound like something I would’ve done?
Brett went around the counter to stand before his husband, close enough to offer comfort and touch should Bo desire it.
“Do you remember what I used to tell you on days when your curse really got to you or you had an outburst?”
Bo: The duel of his personality, wanting to swat Brett away, while reaching out to press the tip of his fingers against his husband's chest. Not a push, but to feel his strength. His pillar.
He shook his head. In this moment, he couldn't recall anything in his attempt to imagine what Olek looked like on two legs.
Brett: “The person you used to be isn’t the person you are now.”
Brett wanted so badly to pull his mage into his arms, to soothe and comfort him, but he’d never given in to the impulse before and he wouldn’t now. Bo needed a pillar so an immovable pillar he would be.
“Even if you had all your memories, you still wouldn’t be the same person. The big, awful things that happen to us shape us but the little mundane things do too.”
Bo: "You've heard every journal. How can you say that? I've always had big, awful things. This is the longest I've not been... used, or cursed, or..."
Brett: “You’ve always had the little mundane ones, too. And I’d be willing to bet that Olek was the source of a lot of them before you met me. The big, awful things aren’t all that you are, Bo.”
Bo: "You want that?" he whispered. The way Brett made it sound, Olek... was his Brett. Was he that selfless?
Brett: “I just…don’t want you to close the door on potentially getting back someone who’s cared about you and loved you for so much of your life and hasn’t stopped. I understand that it’s hard to apologize for something that you don’t remember, and you don’t have to make a decision right this second, but I think you should really think about it.”
Brett gave his husband an eternally soft smile. “I want you to have all the love you possibly can.”
Bo: Pressed fingers slid down Brett's chest, reaching out for his hand to grasp. If it was a desperate hold he wouldn't admit it.
And neither of them knew, upstairs, sitting on the top step, was a man-shaped familiar, elbows on his knees, picking at his thumbnail with his teeth.
"What does he look like? I'm not - I'm not apologizing to a cat face." He wanted to picture a human face.
Brett: Bo would easily find his husband’s hand, warm and strong and ready to hold his, just like always.
“Tall,” was the first thing that came to mind as Brett recalled Olek’s appearance. “Over six feet. Pale. His eyes are brown with a little bit of green. Hair’s dark and longer than both of ours, and there’s some lighter brown and blond in it. He has a sweet face. Sweet smile.”
Bo: "You like him," wasn't a question. Brett wouldn't regard anyone as fondly without merit. Bo was obligated to thank him, no matter anything else. The familiar had been there in his absence. He could only imagine the state he would have found Brett in without his assistance. Another peek into the familiar he had known and possibly loved.
Fingers curled tightly.
"I'm going upstairs."
Brett: “I do.” It was Olek. How could Brett not like him?
He nodded and gave the briefest kiss to Bo’s hand. “Okay, baby. Dinner’s almost done. Want me to bring you a tray or call you when it’s ready? Whatever you want.”
Bo: "I'll be back." Appearing upstairs or calling had the potential to break his concentration. He had no idea how long it would take for him to face the familiar. He couldn't pretend this wasn't his fault. The longer he dwelled on the number of years under a curse compared to his own, the heavier the guilt burdened his shoulders. His death curse had lasted just over a year. The familiar's burden had lingered since May of the same year.
Every emotion swelled with every step to the second floor. There at the top of the stairs was his cat. A hundred questions accumulated. Why hadn't he tried to write a letter? Why hadn't he tried for Brett sooner? Caution, Brett had explained. His husband wasn't that skittish. Why didn't Olek lock him in that day, and spared them both this pain?
Was it pain? Was that the ache in his chest? No, it was anger. Or both. Many days he went without knowing the difference between hurt and rage. What had his familiar ever done to help? Why did he omit him from the pages of his journal?
Instinct told him protection. Not once did he write about Brett. Not his progress, not his love and care and therapy. In case someone were to read about him. The pages were selfish, possessive, loving.
The forest cat followed behind his retreating figure. Brett would hear the master bedroom door slide shut. Left unlocked.
Minutes passed in silence stretching beyond an hour. And then a crash.
Brett: Respecting Bo’s wishes, Brett remained downstairs and finished preparing dinner while his husband took what Brett assumed to be some time to gather his thoughts. He’d received a lot of information that had no doubt brought up a lot of emotions; it was normal for him to need a second or two to digest it all.
When the soup finished without Bo’s return, Brett cleaned the kitchen and fed Woodstock. When half an hour passed and he still hadn’t appeared, Brett started a load of laundry and turned on the TV.
Only when he heard the crash would Brett rush upstairs.
Unlocked or not, he knocked on their bedroom door before he entered.
“Bo? Are you all right?”
Bo/Olek: The crash had been a vase of Bo's design. Made of snowflake obsidian, once the home of various white flowers dried years ago, now lay shattered by the wall leading to the bathroom.
On the floor at the foot of the bed was Bo, curled in the fetal position, face hidden, shoulders tight, sobbing like a child as mute as he'd once been.
Cradling him was Olek, long and human, lip bleeding, arms around his master's shoulders and head.
It was Olek who looked up, smiling despite his fractured jaw and split lip, eyes like glass.
Thank you, he mouthed.
Brett: Brett might’ve wondered how someone could smile when they’d clearly just taken a hit, but he understood the sentiment perfectly. If he had spent years not being able to hold and talk to someone he loved, they could shoot him and Brett knew he would smile because he finally had them back. That’s how he imagined Olek was feeling at this moment.
He nodded at the familiar and smiled before stepping back out, closing the door softly behind him. Olek and Bo had been without each other for a long time; they needed some privacy.
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Aight. So I write but I’ve never actually shared any of it before so this will be an experience. Okay soooo…Friends with Benefits (and feelings) with….(drumroll please)….Action Park Lifeguard Tsuyu Asui! (Gender Neutral Reader btw.)
So like most people in Grimetown, you’re doing whatever it takes to survive. This involves a lot of less than legal things.
Thankfully, you live close by Action Park (or Class Action Park as it’s “tenderly” known to the population of Grimetown.)
There are three potential partners in crime that work there that could play quite a role in your schemes.
The first one you approach is the manager that works there. They seem nice enough but decline working with you, telling you they already have too much on their hands in the way of schemes. Running an illegal street racing ring with go-karts isn’t easy, they tell you.
Okay. Whatever. The next person is Park Owner Zoë Hange. They seem on board with your plans but only if you’ll lend yourself as a human test dummy for their ride ideas.
You watched as three mannequins come out of the cannonball loop headless. Yep, definitely not doing that.
That leaves the last person, Lifeguard Tsuyu Asui.
Surprisingly, she agrees with no questions asked. When you ask about payment, she gives you her ultimatum. Rescuing drowning dumbasses is stressful work. By teaming up with you, she also wants you to become a fuck-buddy for “self-care”.
Okay, pretty forward but it’s a done deal. From that day onward, the two of you work together. She lets you steal things from the park like alcohol, tools and even a whole ass piece off of one of the rides (One of the LED signs which you broke apart for copper wiring. They still haven’t replaced it.)
And in return, she uses you how she wants. She’ll even call you to her on the job and ya’ll will make the hottest, nastiest sex in a storage shed. She makes you cum everytime. She really knows how to work that tongue you come to find out.
After a few months, you find yourself genuinely starting to take an interest in her. Sure, she’s straightforward and grumpy but she blows your mind everyday with everything she does.
The problem is you have no clue if she feels the same. Maybe you’ll just have to give it more time and see.
THIS IS AMAZING 😭 and so true, tsuyu would NOT ask questions about any of it, she doesn’t even care – AND IK WE’VE BEEN THROUGH THIS BEFORE BUT PARK OWNER HANGE IS SO FUNNY TO ME, THEY’RE MENACING EVERYONE WITH THEIR NEWEST CONTRAPTION THAT’S MOST DEFINITELY NOT SAFE FOR HUMANS! OR ANYONE FOR THAT MATTER.
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Killer Kafé
summary: Ya’ll remember HISHE’s superhero cafe and villain pub? Yea, well… here’s my take on it. Every DBD Killer, one saloon!
word count: 1890
a/n: This was a cracked idea I had randomly and it actually really inspired me, so I hope you guys enjoy it!
Once upon a time, there was a realm within a realm. This realm was where the killers of the Fog were held between trials, lest they try to torture the survivors outside of their allotted period of time. Now, not every killer was happy with this arrangement, but every killer did accept it for what it was — a chance to kick back and have a drink.
Michael Myers kicked the door open as the café went silent, watching him trod over, slumping down into a barstool and slamming his hand on the counter as he waited for the Deathslinger to give him a drink. No one actually knew what drink the Boogeyman preferred, as he didn’t speak, but he must not have hated whatever concoction Caleb came up with, or else he wouldn’t come back in the same exact way after every trial, bloodstained from head to toe.
Freddy joked, “Lose a couple pounds there, Michael? You’re practically silent when you walk.”
Ghostface said, “Actually, practically silent is what most would consider myself - Mr. Myers here is completely silent. You can’t hear him move at all, whereas one might hear my cape floating around-“
“We get it, shut up already.” Frank Morrison, head of the Legion, spit, shoving Jed out of his seat by his face mask.
The Nurse let out a spine chilling gasp in mortification. “Manners, young man!”
Frank grunted in agitation. “Sorry, Miss Sally. Certainly won’t do it again.”
Jed, finally back in his chair after fixing his mask, said, “If I had my knife, I would kill you.”
A sinister laugh erupted from behind the counter, where Caleb was busy making some Irish coffee for Michael. “Read the sign, buddy.” And pointed above himself, where a rusted sign with scrawled letters read: NO WEAPONS IN THE KILLER KAFÉ. The sign used to say ‘in the pub,’ but Caleb went on a rebranding spree when he heard about all the recent horror flick remakes, and he commissioned Carmina to repaint his sign. He didn’t listen to anyone who said remakes only happen for killers with movies already in existence. He had the spirit, at least; not to mention Rin Yamaoka sitting at the end of the bar, sipping on some herbal tea.
“But… don’t YOU have your weapon?” Julie pointed out in confusion.
“That’s because I own the pub — I have to be able to defend myself otherwise any ole’ ragtag crew could come in here and steal everything, from merchandise to money.”
“Like OUR ragtag crew?” Joey observed, with a glint in his eye.
Deathslinger slid the finished drink toward Myers, being careful to move the drink AROUND Joey’s grabby hands, as he confirmed, “Yes, like YOUR crew — and stop trying to get alcohol! I am a man of the law and I will not be breaking it.”
“He says, despite having murdered numerous people to even get to the Fog in the first place.” Julie narrated. She prided herself on being a smart-ass, arguing with the adults just to argue.
“Out.” Caleb pointed to the café door, already having reached his limit.
The three stood up to leave, chuckling to themselves, and a fourth joined them reluctantly. Susie, the only one of the three to be respectful and always ask for chocolate milk instead of alcohol, said quietly, “Have a nice day, Mr. ‘Slinger, I’m sorry about them.”
He tipped his hat at her, offering her a rotten smile and a, “Have a nice day, Miss Lavoie.” She smiled, waved goodbye to the rest of the killers, and chased after her friends.
“What a nice girl!” Sally rasped, clasping her hands together.
“Merrr!” Rin Yamaoka huffed in annoyance at the end of the bar. “She’s not the ONLY nice girl in the world, you know. More chai, please.”
The Killer Kafé suddenly went dark, and what most beings thought were the moans, screams and cries of the Dredge’s victims, were ACTUALLY the moans and groans of the killers at the Dredge’s dramatic entrance to the pub. He teleported into a (locked) locker, scrabbling until he could break the locker door open. The room lightened up again, and the Dredge complained, “I told you to stop locking that thing!”
“You took Maurice!” Jeffrey stood up, his beer belly nearly flipping his table over as he slammed his hands down angrily. Everyone silently nodded along. Even if they wouldn’t say it, making your entrance into the Fog by harming Maurice is wildly unpopular. Nobody hurts Maurice.
Anna, Bubba and Max Jr. trudged in through the back doors, dropping wood down by the fireplace and putting some meat into the prepping fridge. Caleb said, “Thank you for working so hard, you three. I appreciate it.” And nodded his head at each of them in acknowledgement.
“Is that bacon?” Amanda said, and those sitting at the counter pretended to jump. She tried to be stealthy, but everybody always knew when she was coming. It was the squeak of the chair that gave her away, but nobody had the heart to let her down.
Caleb nodded. “Would you like some, Miss Young?” She nodded vigorously, and he slapped some into a pan after grabbing it out of the fridge. Bubba grunted, which typically meant he wanted some, too, so Caleb added more. Caleb heard a hiss and a whine, and when he looked down, he saw that the Demogorgon was sitting at his feet, salivating, and even though it didn’t have eyes, he felt the puppy dog eyes breaking down his defenses. “Okay, fine. Here you go, Demodog.” He tossed a few pieces of raw bacon, and Demo jumped up, catching them in its mouth and chewing them with a loud smacking noise, as if it truly was a dog.
Across the room, Adiris keeled over, puking on the floor and saying something utterly incomprehensible. “Hey!” Caleb shouted, “No more drinks for you!” After which she groaned, swinging her sconce around messily and knocking the glasses on the table over.
Herman stood up from the next table over and said, “I think she just may be sick again, with the plague. Like usual. Would you like a mask, Adiris?” She readily accepted it, as well as the vaccine that Nemesis offered her with a roll of his eyes, as if her illness were an inconvenience to him. Granted, everything that didn’t help him catch Jill Valentine and all those other S.T.A.R.S. was an inconvenience to him.
Trickster stopped his melodic humming and piano playing and said, “I do this for free, you know. The least you could do is not stink up the room with vomit.” He shuddered. “Disgusting.”
Pinhead laughed next to Trickster. “I love witnessing your suffering. How delectable.”
“Shouldn’t your DRINK be delectable?” Trickster asked.
“No. It tastes horrible. That’s why I like it.” Came Pinhead’s response.
The Hag walked through the café doors, and everyone waved at her in greeting. She took a seat at the counter, and right when she opened her mouth to speak, a chime rang out. All she had time to say was, “Ah, shi–” Before she was teleported out of the room. Everyone in the room looked at each other awkwardly, and Pyramid Head stole Hag’s abandoned seat at the counter. Caleb glanced down at the drink he’d been preparing for Hag, shrugged, and handed it over to Pyramid Head. Pyramid Head grabbed the drink, tilted his head back, and immediately poured it all over his face. He sat there for a few seconds, processing what he did. Gently, he set the empty mug on the counter, then dragged his giant knife out of the café with him, the doors swinging shut in his wake.
In the private room of the café, Charlotte’s groans rang out as she banged on the TV, static noise trickling out through the cracks in the walls. “La télé n’est travaillé!” A harsh, grating noise rang out, and Sadako climbed out of the TV. Of course, the TV was still nothing but static, because Caleb didn’t know how to set it up in the first place, but he told everyone a repair man was going to fix it soon. Nobody knew who the mechanic would be, though.
A bell chimed, and a tall being materialized in the middle of the café. “I’m Philip. Heard there was a TV problem? What’s happening to it?”
Sadako eyeballed him warily and said, “It’s never been set up.”
Charlotte’s jaw dropped as she stared at Caleb in disbelief. Caleb’s jaw dropped because it was already broken, and he stared at the Onryo in disbelief. “How did YOU know that I never set it up?”
Sadako shrugged. “Not sure. I can feel it when I pass through, though.” She glanced to the side, then said, “There’s a baby trying to steal your bread, by the way.”
A squeal came from the kitchen as one of Trapper’s bear traps clamped down on Victor, the baby-looking man, while he held onto a piece of stale bread. “You’ll pay for that!” Albert Wesker says, pointing at Victor. Wesker hadn’t had much time to frequent the café as of late – the Entity kept calling him into trials – but he would be damned if a petty thief was going to ruin his first visit in so long. Trapper finally came back from wherever he was, and kicked Viktor, who splattered into nothingness, but reappeared in Charlotte’s chest cavity a few seconds later.
Trapper shuddered at the sight. “Parasite.” He said to Victor.
“Good work,” Blight praised Trapper. “Care for a drink?” Trapper shook his head, rejecting the offer. He’d already spotted the Blight spiking his drink with the golden glowy liquid seeping down through the coffee – it’d be bound to give him more than just an adrenaline rush.
Just then, a loud yell resounded through the Killer Kafé, and everyone looked outside with bated breath. A green aura drifted into the room, and the Wraith said, “I’m out.” He rang his bell and disappeared right as a horn was blown to announce the arrival of the Knight and his loyal army of soldiers. They trudged through the doors, metal clanking against metal and chainmail clinking together, taking a seat at the café counter.
Oni, who had just come back from a trial of his own, reared his monstrous head and roared. He dashed upstairs angrily, muttering about how knights are fake samurai and leaving a red trail of light in his wake. Caleb looked around at The Killer Kafé and sighed. He was proud of his renovations, but it still felt a little gloomy. Everyone was always mad about something, and he couldn’t cater to a consumer base that found a way to be glum about EVERYTHING.
He felt a tap on his shoulder. “Ahem. I see you’re feeling a bit down about your business. What if I bought it from you and made all of your troubles go away?”
He turned and saw that the voice belonged to none other than the Skull Merchant. He threatened her, “Don’t even THINK about trying to buy The Killer Kafé – your money is worthless in this world.”
“Suit yourself.” She said, and walked out of the establishment as if she already owned the place. Caleb was never going to get a break, was he?
#outsider writes#dbd#the shape#the deathslinger#the nightmare#the ghost face#the legion#the nurse#the artist#the spirit#the dredge#the clown#the huntress#the cannibal#the hillbilly#the pig#the demogorgon#the plague#the doctor#the nemesis#the trickster#the cenobite#the hag#the executioner#the twins#the onryo#the wraith#the trapper#the mastermind#the blight
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