#but CAN YOU IMAGINE if man just lied through his teeth and all of that shit he pulled. were just for shits and giggles

[suguann]

tags. fem!reader, boss/employee relationship, stupidly domestic, little wife kink in there somewhere, nanny reader, single dad gojo, breeding kink [18+ only]

You sometimes find yourself wistfully imagining having a family of your own—a soft and sweet little bundle to cuddle and someone strong and capable (competent) at your side. But you can’t think of the last time you’ve been on a date where that person had the same interest in something more serious than casually sleeping around. 

Nannying seemed like the natural conclusion, especially when you’re still settling in a new city and barely scraping by for rent and student loans for a degree you don’t use. 

You pick up a few jobs just to get a feel for it: parents going away for a honeymoon, a last-minute call-in, a weekend business trip. Then a friend of a friend says she makes enough to afford one of those picturesque apartments that overlook tall high-rises and iridescent lights, the very ones you’ve dog-eared in real-estate magazines.

All it takes are a few phone calls and an interview until you’re packing up your apartment and taking the freeway outside of the city to somewhere remote and expensive, your car looking almost out of place parked beside the shiny new one in the long driveway.

You rap on the front door before you lose your nerve, and a few moments later, it opens, and you’re unsure who looks more out of place: this man with a smile too big, dressed for work, immaculate suit dampened by the baby rag slung over his shoulder and what looks like drool on his crisp collar, or you in your scuffed shoes and second-hand store clothes, standing in front of the nicest house you’ve ever seen.

“The nanny?”

“Yes,” you mutter, licking your lips. “That’s me.”

“Good, Ren just woke up from his nap,” he says, opening the door a little wider with a creak. The darkness behind him is almost comforting.

You take a deep breath and pass over the threshold into his home.

The entire time, his hand stays on the small of your back to steer you toward the nursery, and a shiver threatens up the length of your spine.

Three months. That’s how long it takes before your employer poses a problem.

It’s not that he’s a terrible boss; in fact, he’s quite the opposite. He lets you take over one of the many spare rooms in his massive house, pays you double the regular rate, and gives you time off when you ask for it.

It also helps that Ren is cute, only a year old, and still so sweet and tiny. 

Perfect.

The problem lies in that you know what he sounds like first thing in the morning, that he knows how you like your coffee, that he helps you fold laundry in the living room while the baby naps, how you catch him staring anytime you hold his son—his expression shuttered, a foreign thing that you can’t read. It’s all so terribly domestic. 

Terrible in that you think it’s a horrible idea to develop a crush on your boss, that you can’t help but get flustered anytime he so much as looks your way, even if it’s fleeting. How a sleepy smile before he retires to his room for the night can turn your thoughts into a scattered, ill-defined mess of what they used to be until all that’s left are words like spun sugar melting on your tongue.

But also, it’s not normal, at least not from your experience. 

You were lucky in the past if your employer even wanted to know about their kid’s day. Barely saying hello once they walk through the front door before sending money to your bank account.

Satoru—because that’s what he asked you to call him one afternoon while you were in the middle of feeding Ren mashed banana, a lazy smile curling the edges of his lips after you say it for the first time—wants to know everything: what Ren ate, if he laughed, how your day was, if you finally got your hands on that book you’ve been meaning to buy. 

“You don’t have to ask about my day,” you tell him shyly, accepting the glass of wine he proffers you after spending the past hour trying to put a teething baby to bed. “To make me feel better, that is.”

“Would it be so bad if I said I want to? You live here, too.”

You try to separate the two: that he cares as your employer and not for any other reason, and how you sometimes catch the soft look in his eye whenever he looks at you could make you believe otherwise.

Cool fingers cup your chin gently, thumb caressing the top of your cheek, now close enough that you catch a few of the warm notes of his cologne, a move that’s probably very inappropriate between a boss and an employee.

“I never say anything I don’t mean.”

You swallow, nodding, slightly shaky, breath caught in your chest. “Okay.”

“Good girl.” He retreats to his office before witnessing how those two words knock the wind out of you.

He starts saying things like our shopping list, our car—because he gave you the keys to the SUV parked beside his car and hasn’t touched it since; for you and the baby, he said, plus it’s terrible on gas when I drive it to work—our house, our baby. You don’t think he means to do it; it's more of an easy slip in conversation.

But then, one morning, he’s rushing around the kitchen, hair still damp and smelling like his shampoo, as he grabs his coffee and briefcase from the counter, kissing Ren’s forehead first…and then yours.

You’re half convinced that you imagined it—that his lips hadn’t stayed there for a second longer than necessary—until he straightens his tie and heads out for the day with a ‘be good’ tossed over his shoulder, and you’re left wondering if he meant to say that to you or Ren.

It sets off a chain reaction of thoughts whirling away in your head, leaves you wanting and wondering—only ever allowing yourself to fantasize a little when the house is quiet and dark, the baby monitor humming on your nightstand, and images of your boss flit behind closed eyelids as you fit your hand underneath your soft sleep shorts.

In the morning, you worry he can tell what you did, his smile almost too sharp, too something—more teasing than what you’re used to—his hand resting on your lower back as he leans down to kiss Ren’s chubby cheek while you make breakfast.

“I have a meeting this afternoon, so I’ll be late. Want me to pick up some food on the way home?”

No, you think, there’s no way he knows.

You spend most of the morning cleaning and folding the array of graphic onesies Satoru has a penchant for dressing Ren in, and the later half walking around the pool because it’s warm and Ren enjoys splashing around in the water. It’s enough to tucker him out for bed early, unable to keep his eyes open while eating a plate of mashed potatoes.

It’s also the first time in weeks that you have the night to yourself, no baby keeping you busy, no Satoru to—well.

After a long shower, you step out of the bathroom, moving into the hallway. And there are many reasons why you felt confident walking the few steps it took to reach your bedroom. Most revolve around what Satoru told you that morning, so you don’t expect him to be standing there, shirtsleeves rolled up, piercing gaze sliding down the length of you wrapped in a towel and little else.

“I brought home those drunken noodles you like,” he says when his eyes focus back on your face, his whole expression softening into a smile.

A beat. “Thank you,” you whisper, unable to look away.

He tucks the wet strands of hair clinging to your cheek behind your ear. “Why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll join you downstairs?”

The noise in your brain goes static.

You’re unsure what causes it, but everything changes when he comes home early one afternoon and finds you and the baby napping in the nursery. He has this soft look on his face and something else you can’t decipher with his piercing blue eyes settled firmly on you.

Ren coos softly into your shoulder. 

When Satoru picks him up and settles him in the crib, then walks you to your room—here, let me help you—and when he hovers in your doorway, you let him in without question.

He doesn’t waste any time peeling off your clothes, eager to have you naked and splayed out underneath him. You cum on his tongue more times than you can count until you’re silently begging him to fuck you.

He laughs, large hands spread over your tummy. 

“Use your words, baby. I’m not a mind reader.”

You feel like you’re someone else watching you from somewhere else, another body rocking against the length of your boss’s cock, back arching every time you manage to find the friction you need. He’s hard against your back, thick in a way that makes you wonder if he did enough to stretch you out. 

“I-I want—”

All other thoughts are obliterated by the stretch and press of him against your cunt. 

“Think I’m going to keep you,” he rasps, lips dragging over your throat. “Keep this drippy little cunt spread open on my desk whenever I want while the baby naps. Would you like that? For me to fuck you full until you give me a baby.”

You clench, nerves shot.

“Gonna get all round with my baby, stay here forever,” he mumbles when he draws away, and you can’t tell if the words are meant for you to hear or slip out without him realizing. “Fuck—breed my little wife until it takes—”

Your eyes roll up, lost in the little promises he paints across your skin, body shivering over and over until you’re sobbing from it until he has to clamp a hand down over your mouth—shh, you’re going to wake the baby—going limp when he finally cums, pressing as deep as your body will allow, as if he can somehow imprint himself there. 

Wonders if maybe he’s been building up to this moment all along. 

It’s so easy to lay there after, blissed out while he litters kisses across your face and collarbones, letting him lift your hips up to slide a pillow underneath, even though the position is awkward when he tries to cuddle you afterward.

His fingers draw shapes on your stomach, giving you a wistful look, like he can’t believe he’s laying here with his cum still dripping between your thighs—no matter how many times he scoops it up and pushes it back inside you. “Do you think it’ll take?”

And you don’t have the heart to tell him about the little foil packet of pills tucked away in your nightstand.

[ceilidho]

fear of god

prompt: There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 4 masterlist

-

At the quantum level, an electron can behave as both a wave and a particle. It is the act of observing it that confines it to a single form. The electron that once could’ve passed through multiple openings at once is forced to choose a single path when observed. 

Because what the eye sees becomes—

“—real,” you whisper, staring up at the face hovering in the window beside your bed. His smile doesn’t waver. “You can’t be real.”

“Sorry about the other day,” he says, instead of answering. “I got a bit lost after you left.”

Again, you pinch the soft skin of your thigh to wake yourself up and twitch when the pain sets in. The reassurance that you’re still awake doesn’t go a long way towards reassuring you. 

“This isn’t real,” you repeat to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and breathing heavily out through your mouth. “This isn’t real.”

Your words are met with a silence so profound that it almost feels as though you’ve plugged your ears, until you open your eyes and he’s still there, waiting right outside the window.

The blue lights around the inside of the window glow soft against his dark skin. You can make out the finer details of his face up close—the smoothness of his skin; the faint scar on his cheek; the fine grooves in his plush bottom lip. Too beautiful to have spent the last several days without food or water or sleep or fresh oxygen. You, with access to all of those resources, feel grimy; gritty. Skin tight against the bone, and hollowed.

“Was that you? Before?” you ask, thinking of the astronaut you saw drifting out in the distance, so lifeless and limp that you imagined the body within it long expired. 

He nods. The motion is slow, deliberate; still that sluggishness analogous with zero gravity. 

You wait for him to volunteer more information, but he just smiles wordlessly at you. It’s difficult to know where to begin. You’ve always been the kind to break a problem down into smaller, more manageable parts, but with this you don’t even know where to start. Its bigness is all you can focus on. The enormity of it. 

“Where did you go?” you ask instead. “You weren’t—…you were gone when I came back. We couldn’t find you.”

He blinks. “Elsewhere.”

“You can…move around out there?” 

“I can.”

His deliberate evasiveness frustrates you. Ostensibly one-dimensional with his glib charm and easy smile, but with an unplumbed depth. His response provokes more questions than it answers, and you can tell that it’s intentional. 

But again you’re prescribing an internal locus of control to an apparition that has been proven to exist only in your head. It can only supply you with information that you already have. 

And that’s the real quandary, isn’t it? The thing that has you whispering softly to yourself oh no oh no oh no oh no in the quiet of your room. Your body knows that the front door of your mind lies on its side, ripped from the hinges, dirt mounds blackening the entryway. And now outside stands a man, waiting to be let in. 

“How am I able to hear you?”

He smiles. “You must just want to listen.”

You huff out a breath through your nose. There it is again. 

“Who are you?” you ask, and you know that his answer won't matter. It won't matter because it won't be real. Because it's just you in your head and the words are too loud and whatever sickness is in your mind has crystallized in the body of a man that stares at you with a gaze too intense, too penetrating for what he is.

“You can call me Gaz,” he says simply, teeth peeking out from behind his lips when he enunciates the name. Glinting sharp like bone in the blue light. 

His answer makes you blink. It doesn’t seem like a name that you would come up with, but the mind works in mysterious ways. You didn’t think it could conjure up a person either, and now look at what’s happening to you. And it is happening to you, of that you’re sure. 

“Are you going to let me in?” he asks before you can open your mouth again.

He presses his gloved hand to the window. The folds in the fabric spread with his fingers, the pads of his fingers flecked with dust and grime, worn from years of use. 

You give a curt shake of your head. 

“Love…” Gaz says warningly. 

In the few days since he first appeared in the window, you’ve never heard him use that tone. You’re not too proud to say it frightens you. Whether he’s real or just in your head, so far Gaz has been perfectly affable, and you’re not sure you’re willing to face the implication that he might not always be that way. 

“I need to sleep,” you plead. “T-tomorrow—I’ll…I’ll think about it tomorrow.”

You press a button on the wall that drops a panel over the window with a quiet shunk, blocking Gaz from view.

When he knocks again, a shiver ripples down your spine. Guilt twists your insides up in knots. All you can do is pull the comforter over your head and block your ears. 

By morning, the temperature in your room has dropped a degree. You bundle up in a thicker sweatshirt and boots before going for your morning cup of coffee, but for the first time since takeoff all those months ago, you head for your work station instead of sipping your coffee in the cockpit. 

You start to hear him no matter where you are on the ship, a window no longer necessary. Always it comes after two solid raps against the hull of the ship, the sound jolting your heart into a frantic beat, pulse fluttering wildly under your skin. And then his voice, muffled through the layers of aluminum and titanium alloys, but intelligible despite the impossibility of it all. 

Sometimes, you respond. Just a few words to acknowledge his existence, even when the wall separating the two of you is impermeable, only his voice accessible to you. 

That makes it worse somehow though. Displaces his voice from his body, forcing you to reckon with his presence like a symptom of a bicameral mind, your own thoughts projected from you into the world. What difference is there between his voice and an audio hallucination? You should know better than to indulge in it. 

You’re beginning to understand the real root of the problem. The crux of it all. There’s a box in your mind labeled psychosis, and in the months of prolonged isolation and discomfort, you’ve inadvertently unshelved it, pulled it out of its storage space and peeled the lid open, all of its contents now released into the world. 

The thought is terrifying. You wonder if you can even trust your own mind, if everything is now compromised. Can you even trust what you see in front of you, or have you made it up as well? The thought is so disturbing that it paralyzes you in your bed at night. 

You’ve taken to sleeping in the medbay because it’s one of the few rooms without access to any exterior walls. Several other crew quarters separate it from the hull, while the main corridor runs along the other side. It’s the only place where you’re able to get a decent night’s sleep, though the lights stay on, fluorescent white at all times, programmed to stay at full brightness in case of an emergency. 

Even the sight of your own reflection makes you flinch until you realize it’s just you. 

One twenty-four hour period cycles into the next, pulling you into its embrace like crossing over an event horizon, your future self already distended out in front of you. 

In an effort to finally put you to good use (you try not to resent the implication when it’s framed like that), Farah tasks you with conducting pressure checks on the fuel tanks and lines around the ship while she continues to focus on the issue with the cruise control. You’re tasked with attaching a pressure gauge to the tank and increasing the pressure while keeping an eye out for any leaks or drops in pressure. A task simple enough that even the uninitiated could perform it. Busywork. 

You shut down the part of you that beats on your chest and demands that you leave. That this isn’t your job; you were brought aboard for a particular purpose and this isn’t it. You could be conducting your own research instead in the comfort of your lab, ensconced in data on antimicrobial resistance in space or microgravity-induced orthostatic intolerance. Not checking fuel tank pressure.

Someone raps their knuckles against the wall nearest you from the outside of the ship, startling you. 

“Shit,” you curse, the pressure gauge slipping out of your hand and clattering to the floor. You sigh when you bend down to pick it up and wince when you notice a crack in the glass where it hit the floor. 

“Love? Is that you?” Gaz asks from the other side of the wall, voice muffled.

Ignoring his voice doesn’t keep your heart from beating harder. You try to focus instead on the task at hand, pressuring the tank to fifteen hundred psi and waiting for the needle to stabilize on the gauge. Nothing abnormal. You jot it down and move on to the next tank, removing the gauge and starting the process anew. 

Another thump against the hull, the sound sending a jolt through your body. 

“I know you’re there.” He sounds amused. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

How could you avoid someone in your head? You almost say as much but then catch yourself on the verge of opening your mouth. You turn back your task, scrolling down the checklist on your tablet. 

There’s an edge to his voice the next time he speaks. “This is starting to annoy me, love.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” you whisper, finally breaking, the stylus nearly slipping from your clammy hands. Brows scrunched, eyes shut tight. Another breath out to stabilize yourself. 

“Ah, there you are,” Gaz hums. “Thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

Just ignore it, you think, breathing in and out again. 

“You’d rather talk to Farah than me,” he says when you don’t respond, almost accusatory, and you nearly brush it off until you register what he said.  

“How do you know her name?” you hiss under your breath, turning your head to stare at the panel that his voice emanates from behind. 

“I thought I was just in your head,” he says, amused again. Voice lighter than a moment prior. Easygoing as ever.

You worry at your lower lip until the skin threatens to break. “Yes, but—”

“Who are you talking to?”

Your head whips around at the sound of Farah’s voice. You hadn’t heard the cargo hold doors open, but she stands in the doorway, staring at you with an unreadable expression, shoulders squared and hands on her hips. 

Your instinct is to ask her how long she’s been standing there, but that won’t serve you in the long run. You almost want to ask if she heard his voice too, but you don’t think you could handle her confirming to your face that Gaz’s voice is all in your head. 

“…No one.”

Her face hardens and you wonder if you made the wrong call choosing to lie to her. But what else should you have said? The wall behind you remains conspicuously silent.

The next few seconds under her gaze feel endless. Eventually though, Farah pivots on her heel without another word and leaves the way she came, the doors sliding shut behind her. 

The room bellows its cold ire. Only the sound of your own breathing reaches your ears. 

An hour passes. Possibly longer. The stress eats away at your insides. Though you don’t cross paths with Farah for the rest of the day, you can’t help the way every sound makes you flinch and glance towards its source. Jumpy; paranoid. 

You make yourself dinner when the galley is still empty and eat in the medbay instead of with the rest of the crew. The peppery aftertaste is more prominent than usual while you eat; you almost have to choke your food down. Almost metallic, like antiseptic. 

It happens again on your way back to your quarters. The lights cycle with the night and dim in the hallway, a soft pale glow like a low-hanging moon illuminating the floor in front of you. 

You catch him in the corner of your eye this time, no knock to signal his presence. Just an astronaut hovering outside the window, nearly translucent with the absence of light. The fear that overcomes you is almost animalistic until it settles into the folds of your skin like an ointment rubbed in, and you turn to face him. 

It’s the same but different. You know what he wants. What he’s waiting for. 

“I don’t think I can let you in,” you whisper, looking away from the window to the other side of the hall. His gaze seers into the side of your head.

“Why not?” It’s the first time Gaz’s voice has sounded cold to your ears. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end. 

“I’m worried you’re not real. That maybe you’re just in my head. And I can’t—” You bite your lip, swallowing the warble in your voice. “—I can’t let them know I’m crazy.”

Let them know. As if it were a foregone conclusion. As if you’ve already passed the point of no return. But what other conclusion could you draw from your observations as of late? The constant disappearances and reappearances, his voice in your head only when you’re alone. His voice in general, somehow audible despite there being no medium for it to pass through. You’ve been ignoring his anomalous properties because you’ve been desperate to believe that your mind hasn’t been compromised. That you aren’t a danger to the people around you—a voice in your head telling you to open the airlock when there’s nothing out there in space. 

When you turn your head, he’s still there, eyes stony behind the visor of his spacesuit. He tilts his head and the visor glints black for a second, suddenly opaque, obscuring his face.

He looms like a figure straight out of death, imposing even from the outside of the ship. Your arms hang limp at your sides, locked in place under his gaze. Even the thought of moving fills you with dread. 

But he isn’t real; he’s just in your head.

When Gaz lifts his head again, his visor clears and his smile is pleasant again, back to what it once was.

“I’ll prove that I’m real. Wait for me, love.”

And then he’s gone, the view beyond the window night sky black. Gone between one blink and the next; faster than light.

[roseboysstuff]

Just saw ur baby trapping with leon and now I was thinking something similar with Zuko. Like if reader was his personal servant, always following his orders^^

One day reader wants to quit but Zuko ain’t having it so he makes sure reader isn’t allowed to leave the castle :3 RAHHHH i love him and I can’t stop thinking about it

Hell yeah! I love possessive baby trapping and the power dynamic of servant and king is just, mm, chef's kiss.

Also this got way too long and i made it kinda romantic hehe oops

Your little affair with Zuko was kept completely silent. Both of you knew that it would bring shame if it was discovered. The Firelord having sex with a servant. It would be a scandal.

But he couldn't help himself. You were hot. And your tight pussy felt so good to fuck. It was the perfect stress relief after a day of ruling an entire nation. And that was your dynamic. You spent your day cleaning and acting like the perfect servant. His quarters were kept spick and span. All thanks to you. He spent his day being the Firelord. Sitting on his throne, helping out the citizens, and making policies to help the country flourish. It was a delicate balance.

And at night, he would await you in his quarters. Tell you to suck him off. Or get you to lie down and just sink himself into your welcoming body. This lasted for months. And he thought you were content with it. He certainly was.

So imagine his shock when word reached him of your resignation. You were leaving? You were leaving him?

No. No you weren't. You're not leaving him. He'll make sure of it.

He brings you to him for what he says is one last session. He lies through his teeth, telling you everything you want to here.

"Of course I'm not mad. You can leave, if you want. Just one last time, yeah?"

And so you give him one last time. You expect the simple routine of him taking out his stress on you, pounding until he can't anymore. But he doesn't. It's different this time. It's yearning. It's longing.

He takes it slow. It's almost... loving. He eats you out, something he's never done before. But it doesn't occur to you to ask why he's doing it. Not when his tongue is licking stripes up your slit, licking up all the juices that leaked from you. He made you cum like that. Licking and sucking your clit, his arms wrapped around your thighs, eating you out like a starved man.

And without hesitation, after your orgasm, he slowly worked his cock into you, not pounding. Not this time. This was his way of showing his feelings. His true feelings. There was no way he was going to let you leave. So this time, as he fucked into you, he pinned your legs to your chest, putting you in the perfect mating press. And he did something he had never done.

He kissed you. It felt so romantic. Slow and loving. Like he was trying to prove a point. You didn't know what that point was, but who were you to argue with the FireLord?

The sex lasted for a while, no words. Just kisses and gentle thrusts until you were cumming around his cock, and he couldn't hold back any longer. He usually pulled out, but not this time. You were staying with him. He'll look after you, and... anyone else who might come along.

His cock twitched and throbbing inside you, spilling hot seed into you.

This wasn't over. By the end of this night, he would make sure you were knocked up. And then he'd keep you. As his. His boy.

[hom3landr]

Madeleines

18+

After a hard day, Homelander enjoys his favorite baker's voice in his ear a little too much.

CW: Brief descriptions of gore

Homelander is seething as he leans against the alley wall. The heady scent of iron hangs thick in the air and gore from some unlucky pickpocket drips from his glove onto the dirty ground. The gruesome red mass of blood and bone that was once a human is still steaming in the cold night air. He pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a growl of irritation. His fingers leave a sticky crimson smear across his skin. Usually taking out his frustration on some random criminal helps ease some of the tension in his shoulders but he feels no better than he did before he put his fist through the man’s spine.

How dare Edgar? How dare he?

He stomps on the mutilated remains next to him for good measure, imagining it to simultaneously be every person who is dedicated to keeping him down. Starting with that uppity bitch Edgar appointed to the Seven without his permission. Who did she think she was? The way she stuck that camera in his face like he was some kind of zoo animal and smugly hid behind the protection of the faceless nobodies commenting on the screen like a bunch of shit flinging monkeys had his teeth grinding. 

He thought he’d straightened things out with Ashley after his little demonstration with Blindspot but apparently the universe seems intent on mocking him. He curses himself for draining the last bottle of milk earlier. He should have saved it. He couldn’t help himself and on top of everything else shitty about the day, he now has one less piece of her around. It took them a year to begin the renovations on her office and seeing it bare was an all too painful reminder of her absence. He wishes he didn’t miss her. She doesn’t deserve his love after what she did, the way she lied. But he loves her all the same. 

He sniffs, blinking away the sudden shameful tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He needs a win. 

He reaches down to touch his hip where the newly sewn pocket holds his phone. Ever since he gave you his number, he can’t seem to go anywhere without it. He had wardrobe redesign his fucking suit just so he’d have a place to keep it safe. The ribbon he still wears tucked into his waistband. A phone can be replaced if it falls out during a flight, the ribbon can’t.

The thought of you is finally what seems to snap him out of his bad mood. The kiss was two months ago but it seems so much longer. He remembers the warmth of your kiss and the softness of you against him on the couch as the two of you ate gingerbread and watched Christmas movies. He’d wanted to take you so bad, fuck you raw against the counter until you dripped with him, hoping that maybe it would take and give you your own little Christmas miracle. He’d had to take a break and jerk himself off in the bathroom just so he could think straight. Even now, his stomach flips at the memory.

He’d been a good boy. He’d behaved himself. He acted a perfect gentleman and there was no way you could have known his depraved thoughts when he swept you up to slow dance to a Frank Sinatra record. The singer wasn’t half bad actually, maybe he’d originally judged him too harshly. You’d blushed and swooned and when he had to leave he gave you one last gingerbread scented kiss, the stars reflecting in your eyes as you leaned over the fire escape to wave him goodbye. 

After that night things mostly returned to normal. With Transluscent’s funeral fast approaching and the new Saving America campaign about to take off, Homelander had been too busy to even think about seeing you. He’d catch you staring at him in the halls sometimes and his heart beat faster every time. Now that he knows you feel the same, he’s almost at a loss as to how to proceed and it’s easier to bury himself in his work where he can rely on dependable fantasy to get his fix of you.

But after the fucking day he’s had, he’s tempted to fly straight to your apartment and kiss you stupid.

Fuck

There’s an idea… no one said it had to be your mouth

His pants grow tight instantly at the thought and the rush of arousal is a nice balm to his wounded ego. It barely takes a second for him to unclick his belt and pull himself free. He groans lowly in relief as he strokes himself nice and slow. The blood still staining his glove provides an easy glide until his cock is standing at full attention and dripping onto his boots. He keeps his touches nice and light, a little tentative, the way he imagines you would. His free hand reaches for the ribbon, holding it to his nose so he can catch your scent. His cock twitches in his grip and he thumbs his slit as he arches into his fist.

He groans your name before releasing his cock to cup his balls, tugging gently to tease himself, imagining your face looking up at him as he plays with himself. The wall behind him cracks as he throws his head back in pleasure.

A tinny jingle breaks through the haze of his arousal and he immediately fumbles to get his phone out of his pocket, recognizing the tune he’d picked for you so he’d always know who was calling him. The ribbon is promptly tucked back away as he slides to answer the call. His cock feels even heavier in his grip as he anticipates the sound of your voice. It’s like you knew what he was doing. This was the first time you’ve ever called him and your timing couldn’t be more perfect.

The first thing he hears is the clang of utensils and he knows instantly that you must be baking. He bites his lip to keep from grinning at how predictable you are. He can almost smell the sugar through the phone.

“Hi! I hope this isn’t a bad time. I’m trying a new recipe from this french cookbook I picked up and I always get nervous the first time I bake something. I figured you could help me take my mind off things while the cookies are in the oven.” Your voice is so sweet and he has to pinch the base of his cock to keep from shooting his load like some pathetic schoolboy. It feels so illicit to touch himself while you are so innocently seeking his company on the other end of the phone. You probably have flour on your cheeks and your strawberry apron on and the thought causes him to throb painfully. He gives himself an experimental tug and his fucking knees almost buckle.

“It’s never a bad time for you to call.” He replies warmly, trying to keep the rasp of pleasure out of his voice so you don’t suspect. You go quiet for a moment and he knows you’re blushing. He bets that if he were there that the smell of you soaking your panties would be filling the room. You get wet so easily. He remembers your phrase from the second time he spoke to you. You have a “nervous disposition” apparently but he knows what really has you trembling and it’s something a lot filthier than a little anxiety. 

“Thanks, that’s very sweet of you to say. I meant to call sooner but Ashley has been running me ragged for weeks with all the prep work for the funeral. I’ve barely had any time to myself.” You reply with a huff and the clear annoyance in your voice has him both amused and indignant on your behalf. He’ll have to have a firm discussion with Ashley about being respectful towards your time. The thought that you could have been calling him for weeks has his teeth on the verge of grinding again so he teases the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock until he relaxes into the pleasure again.

“I can’t have you exhausted at work. I’ll talk to Ashley about giving you a break. You deserve to rest.” He coos at you as his hand quickly finds a rhythm that feels right. 

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot. I miss you.” Your voice softens longingly and he can picture the wistful look in your eyes perfectly. 

You want him so fucking bad.

He thrusts into his fist, briefly removing his phone from his ear and biting into the soft leather of his glove so you won’t hear him moan like a whore. He wants to be good for you. He wants to be your gentleman lover. He wants a romance like the old movies and he wants you to picture him that way. 

But fuck

You want him and it seems pointless to stand here and jerk off to your voice in a blood-soaked alleyway when he could be buried in your sweet little pussy. You’d get over your shyness once he was bouncing you on his cock until you were soaking and shaking so hard that he’d have to hold you steady. He’d take you on every surface until he was sure that he’d fucked all traces of your “nervous disposition” right out of you. 

He has to pinch himself again to hold himself back. He doesn’t want this to end so soon. He tucks his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he gropes at his chest. He really wishes his suit wasn’t so fucking hard to get off so he could tease at his nipples and imagine you mouthing at him. He’d make sure you knew every inch of his body.

“I miss you too.” He answers truthfully, leaning back against the wall and bracing his feet wide so he can really fuck into his fist the way he imagines fucking you. 

Have you ever even had your pussy licked? He hopes not, he wants to see your face the first time you feel a tongue on your pretty little clit. He wants you to gush all over his face till it soaks into his suit and he can smell you for weeks after.

“Maybe once things calm down, we can hang out again.” You sound so hopeful and the soft noise of rustling fabric makes him realize that you must be fiddling with the hem of your shirt. You kissed him first and yet you still seem unsure of his returned affection. You still worry that his voice will turn to a harsh rebuke again.

“I’d like that. Y’know, maybe I could fly us to Paris so you can do some first hand research. A cookbook will only get you so far. I’m sure Vought could arrange a meeting with a pastry chef.” His cheeks flush as he imagines you beaming at him under the glow of the Eiffel tower, soft and pleased with him as he leans down to kiss you tenderly. You’d appreciate what he could do for you. He wants to do so much for you.

His balls tighten up at the fantasy and he finds it a little strange how the innocent scene has him closer to coming then all the filthy scenarios he could muster. 

“Oh” 

You sigh, and he can hear the flustered wonder in your voice at the thought.

Oh

With a strangled groan he comes, hot thick ropes of come covering his fist, his suit, dripping to the ground in milky white puddles that fuse with the crimson aftermath of his earlier rage.

“I’ve never been to Paris.” You reply breathlessly in a way that almost mirrors his own ragged panting. 

He takes a moment to catch his breath as he strokes the last remaining remnants of his pleasure out of his tender cock, whimpering at the almost too much ache of sensation.

“I guess it’s a date then.” 

_______

Later, once he’s back home and clean and snug in his bed, he sleeps well for the first time in weeks. He dreams of the Paris sky and the stars in your eyes as you look at him like someone you could love.

[poeticpascal]

White Lies (Joel Miller x Reader)

Masterlist | Request here!

Summary: Joel would do anything for you. He does anything for you. And he makes sure you don't know a thing.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: violence, Joel kills 3 dudes (what murdaaah?), descriptions of blood and wounds, stitches, Joel feels guilt and shame but is also very soppy and very in love, fuff and angst all tangled up, descriptions of chronic pain

A/n: I have had a bloody nightmare the last few weeks with suspected endometriosis, which is what inspired me to write this. In my head, reader has endo and the medicine is some sort of contraception or strong painkillers to help her manage it. But it isn't explicitly mentioned so you can imagine whatever you most relate to. Please do let me know what you think, and as always, requests are open!

It’s a harsh winter, even by Boston’s standards.

The QZ is coated in a veil of thick snow, the blizzard that took hold weeks ago now bruising the streets with an icy fist.

Joel pulls his coat tighter around himself, grateful at least for the cover the snowstorm offered, the skies foggy and grey. He can slip through the alleyways much quicker, much quieter beneath the frost. His footsteps are erased almost as soon as he leaves them, and when things get messy, he can soothe his wounds in the freeze.

Which is good, because things get messy a lot.

Not that he’d tell you that. You were too pure, too gentle; not unlike the snow that paints your doorframe now.

No, Joel keeps those things from you. The world has been unkind enough, and if he has one purpose now, it’s to protect that sweetness of yours. To collect it, each golden ray of sunshine that so easily radiates from you, to give it back and let you bask in the warmth of your own soul. 

No one deserves it more than you do. Least not him, and yet you’d given him more love, more sweetness, than he could ever dream of.

That’s why he told you he was working a late shift today - sewage, he thinks he said - rather than where he actually is at 3am, catching his death in an old littered alleyway.

He occasionally shifts to avoid the silver moonlight dripping from the gaps in the fire-escape stairs above him. Tonight’s meeting should be a simple one, free from FEDRA’s strict patrols; he’d done this long enough now to know when, and where, was safest for these things.

He stays on high alert, though. Just in case.

Marco’s late. He isn’t known for being the most competent of dealers, but Joel was getting desperate now, and he was the only crook in the QZ who could get what he needed. He was a small man, a bit pathetic looking, really. But he was smart, and he had connections that even Joel couldn’t make for all his smuggling and dealing.

So when Joel’s supplier told him he couldn’t help him anymore, he didn’t have a choice. That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

“Miller, there ya’ are.” Joel’s snapped out of his thoughts, his looming regret of this whole situation, as Marco strolls down the alley. He grins, in the same cocky way he always did, the sort of grin a man who couldn’t win a fight but has enough men who could wrapped around his finger, doing the dirty work for him.

Joel insisted he come alone. Not because he couldn’t handle his goons; he knew he could. Maybe. But it would cause a scene, and draw attention, to something he very much wanted to keep under wraps.

He’s semi-surprised to see the two men walking behind Marco. Deep down, he’d had some faith that the dealer would stick to his word.

“Quiet the fuck down,” Joel warns, seething through his teeth as his eyes search the alley behind them, making sure they hadn’t been heard. “Who are your friends?”

Marco follows Joel’s gaze towards his companions. “They’re just here to observe.”

The men are the same height as Joel, maybe a little taller. He recognises both from the sleazy speakeasies that lie beneath the floors of the QZ. Where the bad guys go. 

One is bald, with a jagged scar carved across his cheek and over his eye. He’s scowling, unlike Marco and the other man, who looks somewhat softer with thick hair grown to his shoulders and brown eyes that stayed on Joel like bedrock.

“That’s not what we agreed,’ Joel growls.

There’s tension in the air, thick, and they must feel it too because Marco’s henchmen each have a hand hovering near their sides, where silver blades reflect the white of the snow.

“I recall us also agreeing that you’d get your meds in return for the money. But we’re doing things a little differently today.” Joel remains stoic, though his eyes turn dark and angry, the moon’s light no longer illuminating his features. Marco tiptoes slowly towards him, getting so close that Joel can feel his breath and raising a hand to pick a piece of lint from his flannel shirt. “I want my money. But you might have to wait a little longer for your meds.”

Joel reacts then, squaring up to him, stepping forward and clenching his fists. The other men wrap their hands around their blades, anticipating a fight. Marco just laughs.

“‘Scuse me?” Joel asks, though they all know he understood what was going on.

“You’re gonna give me the amount we agreed. And then, you’re gonna speak to one of your guard friends, and cut me a deal. Then you might get your meds.”

Joel’s anger swells inside him like a beast, his previous care to stay hidden long gone as he imagines driving his fist into Marco’s smug, son of a bitch face again and again and again. 

He has to think this through, though. He needs those meds. Marco can see the cogs turning. “Just give me the money, Miller. Don’t make this difficult. You can’t take three of us.”

“No?” Joel retorts, already decided in what he’d do next. “I don’t think it’s worth findin’ out. Give me the meds.”

Marco sighs, dropping his head and stepping away from Joel, leaving him to face his men. “Shame, Joel. You really coulda helped us.”

He nods to his men, who immediately draw their blades and attack. The first lands a punch on his face, the weight of it surprising him as he falls back into the railing. Before he can recover, the other has already plunged a blade through his stomach, right below his ribcage. He controls himself, swallows the yell that claws its way up his throat, tries to think. The cold steel of the rail stabs into his back, and when another fist collides with his cheek and sends him to the floor, he uses it to haul himself up and tackle one of the men - the softer one - to the ground with him.

Marco only stands and watches as Joel throws his weight onto the man and smashes his head into the stone floor. The other grabs his shoulder, spinning him round but Joel’s prepared this time and he dodges the swat of his knife. Instead he throws a punch into his stomach, making him double over which gives Joel the opportunity to grab the knife strapped to his calf and drive it through the bald man’s throat. He stumbles, collapsing to the floor with a choked cry, and Joel turns back just in time to see the other man trying to stand, though the injury to his head makes him dizzy. Joel stands first, easily pushing the man to the ground, and stomping on his head with as much force as his steel-toed boots would let him. Both men stay down.

Marco has regressed into the darkness of the alley, and he looks somehow smaller than usual. He’s pathetic, and if this was any other job, he’d laugh. But this wasn’t a laughing matter, and there was only one target for him; the medication.

The smaller man reaches into his pocket, searching for his gun, but Joel anticipates the move and has already reached him and thrown him against the wall before he can find it. His movements strain the wound in his abdomen, but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t feel it.

Joel’s fist pins Marco to the wall by his throat, making him splutter and flail like a fish out of water.

“Where are the fuckin’ pills, Marco?” He just continues to flail, trying to pull Joel’s hand off of him with both of his own, to no effect. Joel scoffs, throwing him to the floor and dragging his knife out of the now dead henchman’s neck. “If you won’t tell me, I guess I’ve got no use for ya.” He uses his shirt to clean the blade, the flannel already soaked in blood, his own.

“For fuck sake, Marco whines, slightly out of breath. “They’re at my place.”

“There anyone else there?” Joel asks, so nonchalantly that it almost sounds like a passing thought.

“No, no one there. But you’ll need me to get you in.”

Joel looks up again, the now-clean knife held in his fist with a vice-like grip. He stalks towards Marco, ignoring his desperate pleas. 

“Shouldn’t be a problem-” 

With that, he stabs him in the chest, letting him choke and gasp on the floor and searching his pockets for a key. He finds it, and does a quick, final survey of the alleyway. The once perfectly settled snow is disturbed, kicked up in the fight, and deeply stained with blood.

Joel curses, but leaves, only now noticing the burning pain from his torso. He leans against the wall, now stood out in the street, open; but there are no guards. He doesn’t think he’d care. Instead he grabs a fistful of the snow around his feet, packs it into the wound, hissing at the sharp pain of the ice but quickly feeling relief as it numbs him.

This was going to be a long night.

—------------------

It’s another couple of hours or so before he returns. There were, in fact, people at Marco’s place - but Joel knew that would be the case anyway. They weren’t a problem.

He’d showered in Marco’s flat, after taking out the men hanging out in there. Protecting it, he assumed. And he’d found a med pack that let him stitch up the wound to some degree; it was a hack job, but it should do the trick. He’d had worse.

The most important thing was that he found the meds.

The old door of your place creaks as he steps inside, quickly closing it behind him before the cold could enter. It’s futile, really; the wooden pillars are rotten, decaying so badly that the wind sweeps through the cracks with ease, and he can see dustings of snow on the floor around your windows. But he tries anyway.

“Joel?”

There you are.

It’s scary, honestly, what your voice does to him. Even so quiet, so distant from the bedroom upstairs, it lifts the weight from his shoulders that he thought he’d carry forever.

“I’m here, baby. I’m comin’.” He pulls off his shoes, placing them neatly beside the door just how you like, and heads upstairs. His bloodied shirt is long gone, buried in some forgotten corner of the QZ, where he has a collection of discarded items by now.

You don’t reply, he doesn’t expect you to. He reaches your bedroom, gently opening the door and sighing at the sight of you lying there, curled up between mountains of sheets and pillows.

He’d almost think you look peaceful if he didn’t know how much pain you’re in.

“Oh, honey,” he laments, crossing the distance from the door to you and kneeling down beside your head. You open your eyes, though they’re weighed down by exhaustion, and a small smile creeps onto your lips at the sight of the man before you.

“Hi,” you whisper, letting a gentle hand poke out from the duvet and brush his jaw. He can’t help but grin back at you, the total mess that took place just hours ago wiped from his mind completely, and he leans into your touch.

The both of you just stay like that for a moment, your thumb sweeping across his cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. Then you wince, and no matter how much you try to hide it, he can see the wave of pain inflict your body.

“I’ve got your tablets, sweetheart.” He reaches into his pocket, a desperation to his actions now; he hates seeing you like this. You just nod, pushing a meek but honest “thank you” past your lips, so quiet that he almost doesn’t hear it. His heart swells.

Joel presses out one tablet and hands it to you, then picks up the glass of water that stands on your side table, making a mental note to replace it later. You take the pill, grabbing hold of his hand before he can pull it away, and give it a gentle squeeze. He follows your lead and tips the water to your lips once you’ve placed the tablet on your tongue, gently helping you swallow and squeezing your hand right back.

A look of relief washes over your face, and he finally lets himself relax. He stands, letting go of your hand and leaning over to kiss your forehead, before pulling off the clothes he’d taken from Marco’s wardrobe and climbing in beside you.

He only knew heaven in these moments with you, late at night, when your hands reach for him beneath the sheets and your head nuzzles into his neck. It’s no different tonight; he’s quiet, unsure if you’d fallen asleep in those few seconds, and as much as he wishes you’d rest, he can’t deny the way his lips curl when he feels your gentle touch wrap around him.

“How was today? Doing the sewage?”

Joel swallows. “Yeah, yeah. It was fine. Don’t you worry about it, sweetheart.” His arms envelop you, holding you tight against him, one hand drawing gentle circles on your back. He’s lost in the bliss for a moment, letting it wash over him in waves, when your hand brushes his haphazard and you freeze. So does he.

“Joel,” you say; it’s still a whisper, but not the tired kind you’d given him earlier. It’s like you’re too scared to ask. “What’s that?”

He panics, holding you tighter, trying to think. He can’t believe himself for not remembering to cover it, to make sure you didn’t see. 

“There was an accident today. I did some building work before I went to sewage, a pipe fell. Nicked me real bad-” you gasp, forcing yourself to sit up with shaky arms. Joel immediately pulls you back down, his hands grasping your face, staring into your eyes like they held the world inside them. It’s dark, but they glimmer, and he just hopes you can’t see his fear.

“No no. It’s fine, baby. I’m fine. Got seen by the doc, got a couple ‘a stitches. Says i’ll be all good by tomorrow.”

“By tomorrow? Joel that doesn’t sound right-”

He interrupts you. He hates this. “I promise, baby. That’s what she said. I promise.” He wipes a thumb across your cheek, and the way you seem to settle, to believe him, makes him ache. He hates this.

You nuzzle back into his side, placated. You trust him, endlessly, and he hates that he abuses that trust just as much as he needs to protect you. A means to an end, he thinks.

The two of you are silent for a few moments, your hand lay gentle over his wound. Like you’re trying to heal it. He thinks it’s working.

“Thank you for picking up my medicine,” you say.

“It’s okay.” His words are quiet, muffled; he’s got his face buried in your hair now, revelling in your scent, and really, he doesn’t want to talk about this with you. He doesn’t want to lie anymore than he already has.

You’re still oblivious, though. Still sweet.

“I’m so glad you can make my rations cover it. I don’t know what I’d do if they made them more expensive.”

Oh, babygirl, he thinks.

Because your rations don’t cover your medicine. Neither did his. Even combined, they’d hardly cover a drink in the bar these days. He’d seen you work and work and work, in spite of the pain that bloomed in your abdomen and tortured your bones until you could hardly stand up anymore, and he saw the way they laughed in your face and turned you away when you tried to get the help you needed. When you tried to trade your labour for medicine. You were nothing to them.

So he told you he could barter the price down. That it was best if he goes from now on, to make sure you’re not taken advantage of. He takes your rations, stuffs them right back in the savings pot you keep above the shelves in your kitchen, and leaves to make whatever underground deals he needs to in order to get those meds. And you didn’t know a thing.

He must’ve been quiet for a while, because you continue. “And I’m glad you don’t do those scary things anymore.”

That gets his attention. “Scary things?”

“Yeah. Like, the smuggling and stuff.” You take a breath, tighten your arms around his waist. “I mean, I know why you did it. I’m glad you were able to look after yourself.”

Joel curses to himself, unable to wipe the tears that brimmed in his eyes as you spoke, because that would mean letting go of you.

“But I’m also glad you don’t do that anymore. You go out, and you work, even the horrible sewage shifts like tonight.” You giggle, but Joel can’t even force himself to smile. Shame consumes him.

“I’m proud of you, Joel.”

He’s silent. He doesn’t know what to say. He feels like shit.

If you notice his stillness, you don’t mention it. That alone makes his heart ache; you’d always been so understanding, so careful to make sure he’s okay while knowing exactly how to handle his feelings.

It’s odd, really, how fiercely you protect one another. He doesn’t let the darkness of the world so much as touch you, and you extract the horrors from his veins like a vacuum, making him forget the damage was ever even there.

His eyes flitter down, watching you drift asleep, finally at peace and free from pain. He exhales.

He’d never feel good about lying to you. But some things, he thinks, are worth it.

You are worth it.

And so he brushes away the hair that’s fallen over your eyes, trying to fight the droopiness of his own so he can keep them on you for just a second longer. But sleep overtakes him, and the only reason he lets himself fall into dreamland, is because he knows he’ll find you there, too.

[nvuy]

poor provincial town — il capitano

summary. your father disappears suddenly, so you set off in search, and discover something much worse than the monsters you were warned about in your quiet little village.

notes. nvuy actually writing something holy shit we lost. it’s a beauty and the beast spin off. i want this man so badly i will trudge across the sahara desert just to lick off his sweat to cure my unbridled thirst.

warnings. 16+, mature themes, you can interpret capitano as yandere but he’s also implied to not be human (riding on the draconic capitano headcanons here) so in general he’s just a weirdo, he’s probably ooc because yeah, gn reader (any usage of the word ‘man’ is just another word for ‘human’), mentions of violence, threatening, violent threats can also be interpreted as sexy i guess, mentions of death, AU sort of because beauty and the beast spin off.

Your father had gone missing.

The news had shaken you to your core, and despite the wrangling on from the poor terrible and boring provincial town that you hailed from, you planned to set out almost immediately in search of him.

The people had warned you of wolves in the forest, flesh eating bugs that crawled in the winter snow, and men with pointy sharp teeth and large claws that could slice you to ribbons. All horror stories from children’s books; the same nightmares you had when you were little. Raging beasts within the trees to make sense of the shadows that moved strangely in the night.

You were warned, denied, almost locked away in your home for protection. But, you moved. You set out, for your father was already old and frail as he was. You couldn’t imagine him being lost to the woods. Not your father. He was wiser than to step out by himself, and especially so deep within the trees.

“It does not make sense for you to venture by yourself. Trekking through the woods is not for people such as you.” The older lady of the town library told you one day. “What lies out there… I could not tell you.”

You took the book from her hands and pressed your fingers into the hard cover. Your nails left a permanent dint in the laminate. “I do not fear death.”

“Not death,” she corrected. “Death is not what lingers.” She then glanced up at the ceiling, thoughtful. “Death is beautiful. What you should be afraid of are people.” She looked back down at you before a sad grin grew onto her lips. “Speak not to strangers, for you may provide dinner for the beasts that roam the woods.”

She did say beasts, you know. Monsters with fangs and fur and hooves that knew nothing but to bite and eat, eat, eat.

But there are various sorts of beasts. Charming, handsome quiet beasts. Kind and polite and patient.

“It is the gentle beasts that are the most dangerous of all.” The older lady sighed deeply, perturbed. She fidgeted in her seat behind the counter. “If you do leave, bring a weapon.”

You cannot fight, though you did pocket a small dagger.

And then you set off. Through the woods, down hills, across rivers, trying to piece together a narrative as to why your father had disappeared. It was winter — though, it did always snow here — and the winds were much more biting than usual. Thankfully, you had brought layers, and the thick hood that wrapped over your head did its job in banishing most of the cold.

It did not stop the lingering gazes of the creatures that crept along the trees, and lingered within the shadows.

You are soaked in snow and wind and cold, but you press on.

You eventually stumbled upon a castle. A grand one, with cracked and broken windows, thorny leafless bushes that surround the forked fencing, and a door so giant your hand can barely wrap around the handle. It is the only source of shelter for miles.

He must be here. Your father was ill. He needed a roof to sleep under. And possibly, despite its state, the castle could have food hidden away if looked for thoroughly.

You push open the doors, wincing from the loud creaking that alerts your presence to anyone residing inside. It looks abandoned. The once polished floors and mangled and ruined, and it a single candle flickers with life. The chandelier sits on the floor, smashed to pieces, and glass spills from every corner.

It is dark, and cold, but it is shelter.

So, you search.

High and low, wandering through the endless halls, trying to trace your steps. You search upstairs first. There are many levels, perhaps maybe five or six, and as you look, you find different rooms. Grand empty ballrooms, bathrooms that once had plated gold edging to every corner and crevice, bedrooms with torn sheets and broken wardrobes. Most rooms were empty — you cannot imagine being able to fill every single one.

Then, you search downstairs. You hadn’t wanted to go below the ground, but your father did not answer to any hushed whisper you called, and you were beginning to lose hope.

The deeper you go, the more you feel trapped.

There are cellars down here, and they stretch on beyond what your eye can see.

The cellars are dark and twisted and cold. It smells of mildew and mould, and every step you take emits a splash from the puddles. The walls are brick and cracked and covered in moss so old it has turned black with time. There are no little white flowers along the vines.

You step further along the wet stone, feeling along the wall blindly. Your nails scrape along, and you try to even your breathing. It’s cold. It’s cold. Frost and snow still clings to your clothes.

That’s when you spot your father rotting away in a cell, and you quickly take his hands through the bars. He’s frail and older now, and so much sicker from being locked away for so long.

You cry out pathetically when he struggles to curl his fingers around yours. Frostbite has taken the tips, and his skin has morphed to an ugly purple and black.

“You shouldn’t have looked for me,” he tells you. Then, he glances down the dark hall. He cannot see anything, for shadows linger across the walls like spiders crawling upon silvery silken webbing, but he knows there is something out there. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

You dismiss his concern. “You’re freezing.” You squeeze your hands tight over his thin skin before you shed off your hood and hand it to him through the bars. “Who did this to you?”

“You need to leave,” your father pleads.

“‘Leave?’” you echo. You try to see through what little light there is for a keyhole. You do not have a key, but the iron is rusted and weak, and you’re sure you can find something to smash the door through with. “I cannot leave. Not without you.”

You search around. You try to steady your racing heart, breathing deeply through your nose. Fog passes from your lips with each breath. Water drips from somewhere, and the constant ticking and creaking of the old bricks make you nervous.

You’re concerned the entire floor will collapse, so you work quick.

The cellars are empty and abandoned. Most of the doors are open, and there’s no keys in sight. There are no weapons, either, nor any long poles to smash the door down.

You panic.

It’s hopeless.

This place is completely empty.

You turn back to your father and try weakly pulling at the door. It does not budge. “Who locked you in here?”

“A beast,” he replies. It is said in a whisper, as if he’s afraid of even uttering the word. “It tore me off my path and brought me here.”

But beasts can’t be real. They’re just fairytales; stories your mother told you when you were little so you wouldn’t wander off by yourself. “Did it hurt you?”

“No. Not yet.” He glances down the hall again. “But it may hurt you.”

“I am not leaving without you. I have searched for days.” You stand up to search for something again, but you know deep down it is futile.

There is nothing.

There’s nothing here.

You want to weep, but that will not help.

It’s hopeless. It’s all so twisted and horrific. There is no beast here. There cannot be. You would have stumbled upon it by now. It would have sliced you to ribbons by now. It would have locked you away with your father by now.

“Listen to me,” your father whispers. “Return to the village and call for the soldiers.”

You shake your head.

“They will not listen to me. They think I’m crazy.” And they do. You briskly wipe at your tears and kneel down in front of the bars again. Then, helplessly you bash at the bars, and the sound echoes down the halls. “How do I get you out?”

Your father tries to quiet your sobbing. “Go back to the village. Find General Zasha, speak with the soldiers.” He grabs your hands through the bars. “The General will listen to you.”

“He will not.”

“He will.” Your father nods once, confident. “I know a man in love when I see it.” Your father kisses your knuckles once before he lets go. “I will be alright.”

He will not be, but you stumble to your feet and back away from the cellars.

And then you leave. You say not a parting word to your father. You pray and hope he remains alive for another few days. You can do nothing else but trek back up the stairs and return to the main halls.

You know they must have been beautiful once. Now everything is old and withered and etched away.

In another world, another life, just maybe, you would have loved to roam the halls of a castle and spoiled endlessly.

You walk slowly, beaten down, cold and alone. Your bones ache with exhaustion, but you will not rest here. You are determined to return to the village and speak to the general, even if you despise him with every inch of your heart.

Your hand reaches for the door handle.

“What’s this?”

And then there is a blade at your throat.

“Another thief roaming my halls?”

You swallow, but all that does is press the blade further into your skin. The discomfort sends you into a panic, and your breathing stutters. Your hand remains wrapped around the handle, but you cannot will yourself to move.

Escape is futile.

You should not have come here.

The blade is removed swiftly. So swiftly that the sharp end glides along your throat and leaves a shallow cut. It stings, and you try not to cry out in fear. Sweat pools down your neck and twists into the new cut. You hiss silently at the pain.

“What did you steal?”

You do not turn around. “Nothing. I am no thief.”

“Then you know the man I locked away.” His voice is deep, and it echoes in the hall. “Otherwise, you would never have come at all.”

You turn slowly, aware he is still armed.

It is a sword he holds, though it is hidden away beneath a large feathered and fur coat that rests upon his shoulders. Long black hair falls from beneath a mask that covers his face, and the shadows below disguise his skin, and anything that can identify him.

He is taller than you. Much taller, and much bigger. You cannot fight him.

“Why did you lock away my father?”

“Your father is a thief,” he replies easily. “And thieves remain thieves until they rot.”

There is no noise. It is just you, and him, and the constant dripping of water from your hair.

“My father is not a thief, beast,” you argue. “You are locking away a sick man.”

“I am no beast,” he denies. “I am man.”

“A man with a blade is no different to a beast.” He must be a beast. There is no reason as to why he would reside in a place such as this. “I will bring back an army.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure you will.” It sounds condescending, and you scrunch your face up when he leans down to scrutinise you. “That is if you can leave my grounds alive.”

“You will die before you lay a hand on me.”

You pull out the dagger residing in your pocket. It is a desperate attempt to create space between you, but the knife only manages to garner a simple tilt of his head.

It’s small, barely deadly, but if angled right, you could take out an eye. But the thought of that makes you crumble; you don’t fight.

The man simply tuts. “You are not even worth a chance to spar.” He simply plucks the weapon from your hands. “How you survived out there is both a mystery and a miracle.”

“I am not weak,” you say. You don’t feel it’s true.

“Stubborn. You are stubborn.”

Your finger twitches in frustration. “Free my father from his cell.”

“Bring your army,” he answers. “It has been a while since I’ve been faced with a challenge.”

“You will lose your head before you even unsheathe your weapon.” You’re not sure if it’s true, but you have to trust yourself. Just this once. “You cannot take on one hundred men.”

“I have once. I will do it again.”

“I will be honoured to have your severed head hanging as decoration in my bedroom,” you sneer. “You will not win this. Your arrogance will be your downfall.” You try to twist and make for the door again, but he holds steady on your wrist. “Unhand me.”

The man, or the beast, or whatever he is, does not falter.

“You are small. Whatever army you bring will be smaller.” He pulls once at your wrist and that silences your struggling. It hurts and stings in warning. “Puny. Is this the best you can do? What if you were to run into a real beast?”

“Let go of me!” you try.

His grip tightens. You fear your bones will snap into pieces. You’re unsure if the skin beneath his gloves belongs to a man or a beast. The tips are sharpened and metallic, and you’re sure they can pierce into your flesh.

He leans in close. Too close.

Close enough you can barely identify the outline of lips drowned out by the shadows that swamp his features. A big man, much too big for you, and he terrifies you beyond your nightmares.

You will dream of him.

Terribly.

“Let go of me,” you plead quietly.

“Let us strike a deal,” he whispers.

“I will make no deals with any man,” you defy.

You see a smile and a flash of sharp teeth.

“I am no man, nor beast,” he responds. “Send your men. Send one thousand. Send every man that has ever walked this plain.” He grabs you even tighter, and if the mask did not obstruct his face, your lips would have touched his, and the scar that runs across the vermillion. You share his breath, and you smell blood and ash. “I will kill them all.”

You feel he tells the truth.

Still, you insist. “You will die.”

“If I do so perish, then the wager is in your favour. Have whatever you wish from this place. Destroy it, restore it, it is yours.”

You want to tell him you do not want this terrible castle. You want your father home, but you are aware he knows this. You open your mouth to speak, but a hand abandons one of your wrists to grab your face and squeeze just enough to keep you quiet.

His claws press into your flesh. You try to wretch yourself free and rake your nails down his arm.

“And if I kill every man you send, I will return your father.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“I will have you instead.” He twists you further towards him, and your lips touch. “I will decorate these halls with the heads of every man of your village, and I will ruin you.”

That is a promise. You know it is. You can tell from how he whispers it, and how his grip has slackened into something more gentle than it was before.

“You cannot–” Nothing comes forth from your lips.

“I can.” He lets go of your other wrist and twists his claws into your hair. “It has been so long since I have tasted the flesh on mortal bone.”

The man, whatever he is, releases you finally, and you startle backwards against the door. Blindly, you feel for the handle behind you, trying to keep your breathing even as you finally grip onto the cold metal.

The door swings open behind you and you step outside of the castle. The cold hits you instantly, and you double over in the icy strong winds. You abandoned your hood to your father, and have nothing to shield your eyes. They sting with tears and snow.

Something drapes over your shoulders, heavy and warm.

It’s a coat. The same feathered and furred coat, though it is not laid onto you out of concern or politeness. It is possession, and complete control, ownership when the beast grasps your chin from behind you one last time.

You stare out in fear into the forest ahead.

“Flee, little one.” You feel his lips on your ear. “Time slips away as the clock ticks forward. The world will stop for you, if I so choose it to wait.”

He is warm. Warm against your back, and it provides temporary, ill-fitting relief into your skin.

“I await your return, blade honed, and hungering for your skin.”

You slip from his grasp. “If I don’t return?”

“Your father will draw his final breaths in my cellar,” he tells you, “and once he does, I will chase you to the ends of the earth to deliver the good news.”

[sashi-ya]

𝑴𝑰𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑹, 𝑴𝑰𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑹...　 「cuts of freedom: part 5」 soshiro hoshina x f! officer! reader

a/n: oof, I'm so sorry for that cliffhanger... please enjoy a new one. also, sorry for misleading you with that Okonogi call 😆 tw: mdni! sex explicit scenes. mirror sex. some biting. vag sex. feelings exposed. wc: 1,5k // masterlist

[Okonogi-chan calling…] "Why is she calling, Soshiro?"

You quickly want to get off his lap, but he buries his fingers on your thighs. “No need for you to stop” he murmurs, smiling with his teeth.

You frown; does he really wants to answer Okonogi’s call with your sex still around his?

“Shhh…” he scoffs, pulling you closer to his chest as he grabs the phone and slides to answer. This way, your head rests on top of his chest, and your nose reaches for Soshiro’s neck. You can listen, in any case, everything through the phone as you are extremely close.

“Fukutaicho! Are you ok?! What are you doing?!” Okonogi asks, rather desperately.

You think why is she that worried? Could it be that he didn’t answer her texts? Or maybe she was waiting for him? were they going on a date? Are they on a relationship…?!

“Yes, why are you asking that?” Soshiro asks, confused but not worried at all.

You idiot, why are you treating your girl this way?! She is worried for yo-

“Because your heart rate won’t stop rising! Are you in pain fukutaichou?!” she screams, leaving your potential asshole of a boyfriend… man? lover?! temporarily deaf.

Your head is a mess. You wanna stand up, you can’t stand it. You don’t wanna listen anymore…

“OH- I- I forgot I had the control device still on!! I’m ok, dear! I was just… uh… training” he excuses himself, silly and sweetly -and lies, thankfully-

“Training?! Are you crazy? You are wounded! What type of training do you think it’s ok to do when you are still wearing your bandag-” “I am training… Okonogi-chan… with someone... -.-“ “Oh-“

You can imagine her cheeks turning red as apples, blushed as the idea sank in. As her intelligent brain was able to decode what type of “training” is done with someone else. She immediately asked for forgiveness and ended the call.

Soshiro, who was still holding his phone, also blushed.

You, on the other hand, were only able to swallow dry. How could you think this badly of Soshiro? Do you really expected for him to be an asshole?

“I’m sorry, Soshiro” you whisper. Perhaps he won’t understand why you are actually sorry for.

“Not your fault, I forgot this little shit on” he says, annoyed, as he picks a little plastic -very technologic- health device attached to his torso, off.

You try once again to stand up, and this time he won’t  stop you. Soshiro understands he can’t force you to stay.

You pick up his silky yukata and cover up swiftly; then, you get inside the bathroom.

The mirror in front of you, which takes the whole wall, shows a woman with bed head hair, black remains of your mascara over dark circles and that special aura every person that’s been having sex has.

You want to open the faucet; honestly there is nothing to wash, but you do it anyway.

Seconds after, delicate steps come closer to you. He seems defeated but also intensely blushed, or at least it is what you can see through the reflection.

“I shouldn’t have answered… I thought we had to go back to the base” he apologizes once again, as his arms snake around your waist.

Soshiro is completely naked, his perfect body with bandages around his tiny waist still makes you shiver… your body can’t lie, it’s become addicted to his.

His chin rests on your shoulder, he kisses right there too.

“You look beautiful with one of the Hoshina family yukatas” he murmurs, playing with the hem of the fine fabrics covering your nakedness. He slowly lets it slide just enough to expose your shoulder, and with it your chest.

“ I’m sorry for the interruption. But, now, I wanna keep making love to you…” he mutters, sliding his hand down your right hipbone.

You let the little air in your lungs left, out. Your lips semi open, your body bending a little forward and your belly softly pinned against the white marble of Soshiro’s sink.

His hardness, hot and drippy, now rests on his palm ready to be guided into you once more. While his free hand travels to your face, pinching your cheeks ever so softly.

“Look at you, look at yourself in the mirror as I fuck you…” he orders, gripping your façade tightly but soft enough not to hurt you. “Aren’t you the most beautiful woman alive? And aren’t you mine, mh?”

You nod, out of words. Your eyes speak what your mouth can’t, and they suddenly turn white, in the violence of a thrust that knocks every oxygen molecule out of you; every sense out of you…

He goes deep, very deep into your core. As he is fucking you from behind, you can enjoy the tip hitting the right spot. Your walls spasm around him, milking with great force, causing him to grunt loudly.

“Don’t - don’t squeeze…” he pleads, biting your shoulder with sharp little fangs, while his hips dance a slow adagio of lust.

You weren’t doing it on purpose, but the way you can feel it pulsating inside of you won’t stop you from doing it.

Soshiro -needs- starts to go slow, painfully slow. The rhythm can only synchronize to a relaxed heartbeat, but the truth is that both of yours were about to jump off your chests.

Your nails carve into the marble, as Soshiro’s hands land on yours. His fingers interlock with yours, grabbing you as he kisses your back and neck. He goes from planting sweet pecks, to looking at you through the mirror. His eyes, penetrating as much as his sex itself, seem to be telling you a story of love and desire. A story of a man willing to claim your body, to subjugate you until you are left like nothing more than his own little sex doll.

Far in the past rest those doubts; if he was yours, you didn’t really know… but there is, once again, something clear to you… you were, so absolutely, only and just, his.

The thrusts grow faster again, when not even himself can’t think straight. Both have fallen, finally, victims of the lowest instincts. Bodies desperate for relief, bodies hungry and thirsty for climax.  

“I’m coming, please don’t stop ~” you purr, this time your head only remains up as he pulls from your hair so that you still face the mirror.

“Turn around, come on” he commands, taking his sex off you faster. The <pop> of the detachment might have been silent, but you could feel it reverberating from your insides to your brain.

His hands move around your waist until you are facing him, and his hands lift you from the back of your thighs. You end up sitting on the very edge of the sink, with your legs spread apart, waiting for him to bury into you again.

Quickly, he guides his sex back inside; it took him no effort, as your folds drip wet from all the arousals.

His forehead lands on yours, his hips fuck you so fast and hard you can’t even breathe properly. Your right hand squeezes his neck, as the right one tangles with his hair.

Like powerful clamps, your legs snake around his little waist, ready to pin him and never let him go. Perhaps, you didn’t even realize, but something primal inside of you was desperate to let him impregnate you.

Him, as well, couldn’t think any differently...

“Soshi-Soshiro, are – ngh- are you mine?” you can’t stop your tongue while on the verge of climax.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “(Name)… I…."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 「to be continued…」

[littlefireball]

May I pretty please request A Yeosang X reader smut? She's a fairy and he's human or anything else you'd like, but she meets him in the woods and he notices how innocent she looks but can tell something is off. She doesn't understand what is happening as she grew up alone. Etc?

🐼

Sorry for replying late 🤧🤧

ʏꜱ|ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ʟᴜꜱᴛ (ᴍ)

ᴇᴠɪʟ ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ x ꜰᴀɪʀʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ|ᴏʀᴀʟ|ᴏᴠᴇʀꜱᴛɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ|ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴘʟᴇ ᴄʟɪᴍᴀx|ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ꜰᴇʟʟ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ'ꜱ ᴛʀᴀᴘ (?)|ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ʟʏɪɴɢ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.9ᴋ

As the morning sun peeked through the dense canopy of trees, casting dappled light on the forest floor, you began to pack your meager belongings. Your heart raced with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. You had lived in this secluded spot for as long as you could remember, the trees and wildlife your only companions. The silence was often comforting, but today it felt oppressive, like a cage you were desperate to escape.

You had always been different, an outcast among your own kind. Your thoughts and feelings didn't seem to align with those around you, and the wall between you and society grew thicker with each passing day. It wasn't that you didn't want connections; quite the opposite. You yearned for understanding and belonging, but it seemed an impossible dream.

Your path led you deeper into the forest, away from the familiar landmarks and the whispers of the past. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the sounds of birdsong filled the air. Notably, it lies near the fabled devil's den. Yet, these tales are mere folklore, and no one has ever laid eyes on such a creature.

Perhaps they were already dead?

Without a second thought, you began to hum a familiar melody while gathering berries, yet an unsettling feeling gnawed at you. Whispers of demons echoed in your mind, morphing into vivid images that played out like a haunting film. At times, they flashed their menacing teeth and claws; at others, they lurked in the shadows of the trees, silently observing your every action, even beckoning you with a chilling wave. A creeping dread settled in your chest, and your palms grew clammy with anxiety.

You murmured softly to yourself, trying to dispel the notion that it was all mere imagination.

"Alright, this should be sufficient..." A hesitant smile crossed your lips as you inhaled deeply, lowering your gaze to avoid the forest's dark embrace. "Time to head back." With a powerful flap of your wings, you ascended into the sky. Typically, you would stroll home, but today, an instinct urged you to return swiftly.

But as you flew, a nagging feeling of unease began to creep in. The forest was not as deserted as it appeared. Shadows moved among the trees, watching you with eyes that you couldn't see. You quickened your pace, trying to shake off the feeling of being hunted.

And then, you heard it. A low, guttural growl that sent shivers down your spine. 

"A fairy…" 

Your heart raced as you spun around, searching for the source of the sound. But there was nothing there, just the endless sea of trees and the echo of your own panicked breathing.

You pushed on, determined to ignore the fear that threatened to consume you. But the growls grew louder, closer, until you could feel the heat of their breath on the back of your neck. You stumbled, tripping over a hidden root, and fell to the ground.

As you scrambled to your feet, you saw them. A pack of wolves, their eyes glowing in the dim light, circling you like predators sizing up their prey. You stood frozen, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Get…get off me!" You shutted your eyes tightly as they wanted to launch an attack, a sharp voice stopped them. 

"Back off!" The sound of a voice nearby wrapped around you like a warm blanket, easing your unease. With a gentle flutter, you opened your eyes, and a man came into focus.

"Are you alright, lady? Did they frighten you?" Yeosang inquired softly, a sly grin dancing on his lips that quickly transformed into a warm smile as your eyes met his. At last, he had discovered a fairy. The thrill in his heart was nearly overwhelming. Every demon had a destined mate, chosen by their deepest desires—lust. Yeosang had been on a quest for a fairy companion for ages, believing that only a fairy could truly match his beauty. 

Or more accurately, he was finding you, a fairy called Y/N.  He meticulously observed the movements of the fairy tribe, yearning to find his destined partner. While each fairy possessed their own enchanting beauty, none ignited the spark of desire within him—until he learned of your existence. The moment his eyes fell upon you, he realized you were the one he had been searching for. His heart raced wildly, and visions of joyous moments spent together danced in his mind, leaving him unable to shake the thought. Upon discovering that you lived alone, he seized the chance to make his move. Who would have thought you could be so easily deceived?

"I... I'm okay..." you stuttered, rooted to the spot, fear gripping you at the thought of those creatures lunging at you if you dared to move. 

"Apologies if they frightened you. They're just my hounds," Yeosang said, extending his hand to help you. "Did they hurt you?" 

"No, I'm fine, thank you." As your fingers intertwined with his, you felt a jolt of warmth pass through your veins. He helped you up, his grip firm yet gentle, and as you steadied yourself, you noticed the striking features of this man. His eyes were a deep, oceanic blue, flecked with gold, and his silky hair flowed like a midnight river down his back. Despite the danger you'd just faced, you couldn't help but feel drawn to him.

But you didn't know what this feeling was. Is it just an admiration? Maybe?

"Come, let's get you out of here," he said gently. As you stood, you noticed that the wolves had retreated, their growls now distant echoes in the night. Yeosang whistled softly, and they vanished into the darkness, as if they had never been there.

"How...how did you do that?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Yeosang chuckled, a melodious sound that seemed to echo through the forest. "I have my ways," he said mysteriously. "But now, let's get you to safety. Where are you headed?"

You hesitated, unsure whether to trust this stranger. But his smile was genuine, and his eyes held no malice. "I'm on my way to my home," you said finally. "Nearby the forest." 

"Ah, I see," Yeosang said, nodding. "Well, I happen to be heading in that direction as well. Allow me to escort you."

And with that, he offered his arm, and you took it, feeling a sense of safety and comfort that you hadn't felt since you'd entered the forest. 

"My name is Yeosang," he said, offering a lovely smile. "What's your name, lady?" 

"Y/N." 

"It's a good name." 

As you walked through the woods, Yeosang talked about the land and its inhabitants, his voice soothing and comforting. You listened intently, fascinated by his stories of the demons and their world.

In an instant, the sky transformed into a deep shade of gray, casting an eerie shadow over the landscape. It felt strange, almost unnatural. Since you settled in this forest, the weather had been consistently calm—never a cloud in sight, nor a drop of rain. The only exception was the infamous devil's lair, a place where sunlight dared not penetrate, shrouded instead in a dense, foreboding mist.

The twilight deepened as the first gentle drops of rain began to fall, tapping softly against the lush canopy of the dark forest. Soon, the patter intensified, transforming into a relentless rhythm that echoed through the trees. 

"It rains!Run!" Yeosang grabbed your hand and rushed to the cave. 

"Why does it start raining?" You tidied up yourself and gazed up at the sky, feeling weird. "It never rains in this forest."

"That's weird then." Yeosang casually said as if not surprised with this rain. 

"Don't you find it weird?" 

"Why?" Yeosang hesitant, forgetting he should be keep acting. "No, I mean it's normal." 

 His words caused a furrow to form on your brow. It appeared he was unfazed by the rain falling in the forest. While rain is typically a common occurrence, it is anything but usual here. This enchanted forest is shielded by magic, basking in sunlight throughout the year; rain only graces the land when shadows descend.

Given his deep familiarity with the forest, there's no way he wouldn't recognize this pattern.

A sudden realization gripped you, sending a jolt of fear coursing through your veins. The cacophony of noise around you was swallowed by an overwhelming tide, intensifying the turmoil churning within. You had to leave but visibility dwindled to mere feet, as the world was enveloped in a veil of grey. 

"What's wrong, Y/N?" Yeosang's sudden voice startled you, yanking you back from your thoughts. 

"Nothing… I just… feel a bit chilly." 

"Really?" He stepped closer, his tall figure casting a shadow over you. As you leaned back, you realized there was nowhere to escape; your back pressed firmly against the wall. 

"You're frightened." He gently cradled your face, sensing the shivers that coursed through you at his touch. "Is the rain troubling you?" A flash of lightning illuminated the sky, sketching the clouds in stark relief. After a tense pause, the rumble of thunder rolled through the air, resonating in your ears. For a fleeting moment, you caught a glimpse of a haunting golden glimmer in his eyes—an unsettling hue that seemed to belong to the devil himself.

"No…" You stammered, taking a deep breath. "I wanna go back." 

"You mean home?Here we are, darling." 

"No! This isn't my home!" Your resistance was futile as he pressed your wrists against the wall, an unyielding grip that left you powerless. An unseen force held your ankles in place, rendering you immobile.

"Shh… Stop your screaming; no one is coming to help you." One hand gently traced your cheek before tightening its grip, stifling your cries.

"Why see through me? Huh?" He wiped away the tears that fell from your eyes. "If you just stay quiet and behave, I might be kinder to you. But alas, tsk, you're not being good, Y/N."

"Please no…" Your voice trailed off, watching him lean even more closer. "You need to be punished, dear." 

His left hand traced the silhouette of your figure, gliding down to the edge of your dress, gently exploring your tender thigh. "So sensitive," he chuckled, his cool fingertips dancing along your skin, sending a tingling sensation that made you instinctively rub your thighs.

Kneeling down, he ripped off your dress, tearing them into pieces. His head divided between your thighs, his breath pooled against your wetness. Without a second thought, he sucked your bud hard, making you bend. 

"Yeosang…!" "Be patient." He flatted his long tongue, licking from the hole to the fold. Even if there was a fabric, you could still feel his every move, every press. He tore the hem of your panties from the middle, giving him directly touch your soaked clit. His tongue tip tapped your clit in a quick way, while one of his fingers slipped inside your hole, thrusting in and out slowly. 

"Fuck fuck fuck!" You let out a cry, overwhelmed by sheer exhilaration. Your chest heaved rhythmically, each breath coming in quick, heavy gasps. A tightness gripped your stomach as he drew in deeply, the loud sucking noise sending a dizzying rush through your mind. Juices kept flowing out and he swallowed them all, letting out a satisfied sound that sent vibration to your clit. 

You were so sweet, so delicious. He could just eat you out for an hour until you beg him to stop. 

"Cum, honey. Let me taste you." His words made you mess, you couldn't help but come undone. "Godness, you're so tasty!" Your sweetness drove him totally insane. He licked away all the juices as if it was his last meal. He pushed one more finger instead of pulling away, oh, that was so deep, deep enough to ruin you. In order to taste more of your juices, his long tongue slid into your dripping hole in one go, making you let out a loud moan. 

His fingers and tongue moved in pattern; he pushed in his tongue and tapped inside while his fingers pulled out; then his fingers thrusted in after withdrawing his wet, long tongue. This left you no rest, your cunt was so full of him. You could tell the second orgasm is approaching as all the heat gathers at the same spot. Moaning messily, you finally came as Yeosang suddenly found your G spot. 

"Oh here it is." He smirked, kissing your clit. 

"Please no more, Yeosang…" The two peaks of intensity left you utterly drained, as if all the air had been siphoned from your lungs. The prolonged groans had parched your throat, causing a slight sting whenever you tried to utter a word.

"No, no, honey. It's not enough." Yeosang stood up to meet your gaze, his lips were red, covered with your wetness. "Forget what I said?" 

"I can't take it…please Yeosang." 

"Oh my princess is tired?" He suddenly lifted up your thighs, making you gasp in surprise. "But I'm not." Before finishing his words, he leaned in to press his arched crotch against your skin. 

"Shit…"Tilting your head at the back, you felt an overwhelming pleasure once again spread throughout your body even if it was just a small touch. 

"How does it feel? Want more?" A playful grin crossed on Yeosang's lips as he pushed in again, rubbing up and down, earning a long soft moan from your mouth. A wet spot evident.  on his pants as pre cum covered his huge cock. He wanted to fuck you so hard but he needed you to beg, to say. "C'mon, Y/N. I know you want more." 

"Sangie…" 

"Yes, say my name, my pretty pretty." He whispered against your lips before planting a kiss on it. "Say you want me." 

"Please. I want you." You found yourself entranced by his voice, surrendering your thoughts to his guidance. Though fear and fatigue weighed heavily on you, they faded in the face of overwhelming desire. The demon before you wore a triumphant grin, as if the moment had finally arrived to possess you completely. The mysterious strength that once held your wrists captive vanished, and instinctively, your arms fell to encircle his shoulders.

With a tender touch, he laid you down on the soft earth, then lowered his pants and leaned over. Your flattened wings sparkled like stars, captivating him with their beauty. "Mine," he murmured, easing himself into you. His massive size made you arch your back and whimper, a stark contrast to the sensations from his fingers and tongue.

"Just breathe," he encouraged, propping himself up with both hands as he began to move in a gentle rhythm. Your legs bent more each time his cock reached your sweet spot, the way his hard tip kissed it made you moaning without care. The storm raging outside the cave has faded from your mind, a distant memory. The chaos of the world beyond held no significance for you now. All that matters was the man above you, igniting waves of ecstasy that wash over you. This feeling was foreign, something you've never encountered in any story you've read. You should perhaps feel a twinge of embarrassment or consider pushing him away, but instead, you found yourself yearning for more.

His tenderness no longer existed, instead by roughness. Your velvet drove him crazy, the warmth and wetness brought him to the new high, especially when you squeezed hard as you tried to adjust his size. There was no way to endure; he shoved into you with all his might, moving so fast and hard. 

"Sangie…!"  Sharp, wavering moans mixed with soft sobs escaped your lips, as tears cascaded down your cheeks. The overwhelming blend of agony and exhilaration enveloped you, leaving you breathless. You found yourself torn between the desire for him to cease and the yearning for him to keep igniting that blissful sensation within you.

"Need to fill your little cunt with all of my seed. You want it?Hm?Tell me." Yeosang caught his breath, feeling his high approaching. 

"Yes, yes, yes. Please fill me in fully." After a few thrusts, he came all and creamed your cunt after you squirted on him. Dropping a peck on your cheek, he wiped away the tears, saying softly, "You're mine now, my little fairy." 

You tightened the embrace around him, panting heavily. "Why…what is this? Sangie?Why do I want you?" You were overwhelmed, your thoughts swirling in a tempest that left your mind in disarray. The figure standing before you was no benevolent soul; he was a demon, devoid of kindness. He didn't bother to inquire if you wished for him to fuck you. Yet, here you were, pleading with him, clinging to him, refusing to let him slip away. It felt utterly bizarre.

"Honey, it's the so-called mate." 

"Mate…?" 

"You want me as it's your desire, your lust." His eyes glimmered with a warm, golden hue as he gently nibbled at your palm, pressing it tenderly against his cheek.

"Lust…?"

"It's okay, honey. I'll explain to you later as we have so much time." You realized the noise of raining disappeared, and the sight of the cave was replaced by a dark purple garden,  filled with exotic flowers that bloomed in hues you'd never seen before.

"Welcome home, my mate." 

tag list:@angelsaway, @yeosangcutie0615

[peterparkersnose]

Feeling You

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k

warnings: david’s episode and themes along with that, reader is chained up, david is literally creepy and disgusting, reader kills a person, description of death, angst, joel cannot physically feel anything, trauma description, ellie’s aftermath of david, religious trauma, mentions of weapons

a/n hi season finale my life is over at least we got mando still 💪

summary Y/N confesses something to Joel she shouldn’t have when she saw him awake for the first time in weeks after his accident

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 13 mins 10 seconds

The feeling of panic woke you up. The strange dream you couldn’t remember faded as your senses came back to you. It was cold and your head was pounding. The cold air nipped your nose. Your clothes felt like there was space between the fabric and your skin, you could feel the stinging cold prick your skin. You lay flat on what you could only imagine was a bed. It wasn’t comfortable whatsoever and only made your back stiff. Joel’s flannel from the night before had kept you warm enough to survive. Gaining the muster to move, you tried to yank your feet on the floor. Your right leg was cuffed to the bed pole.

“She’s awake,” you heard someone call, and commotion started around you. Blinking your eyes and trying to adjust to what was happening, the noise of a padlock being opened distracted you. “Good morning,”

You recognized that voice. The man that you and Ellie encountered in the woods. What was his name…David? How did you even get here?

“I’m glad to see your up.”

You scuffled on your hands, propping yourself up in bed. “Where is she?” you shivered, moving your free leg up to your chest. The only other thought that consumed your brain was the little girl you were protecting.

“You must be cold. Here,” David said, snapping his fingers. One of his friends fed a blanket through the bars that were currently entrapping you. He draped the blanket over you. You hated it, but had no choice but to accept it.

“Where is she?” you reiterated. “She’s fine.” David ensured to you. “All comfy like you.”

“This is far from comfortable.” you hissed at him. “Just, tell me a few things and I can make you feel real comfortable.” David said. His tone made your stomach drop.

“Where is he?” David asked, mimicking your insistent question.

You knew he meant Joel. That’s all they wanted. Joel. You and Ellie were just the sad accessories that came along with him. “With the rest of the group.” you lied. David sucked his teeth. “Tell the truth,” he said, standing up over you. Scooting over in the small bed, you tried to put as much distance between you and the man.

“God doesn’t look down well on liars,”

‘What a freak’ you thought to yourself. You remembered reading old stories about cults that mimicked his teachings, or what he had preached at you the night he found you and Ellie.

“What kind of god makes our world a living hell?” you taunted. “Why would you believe in some shit cause? Have you seen what is out there?”

A subtle but dark smile came to David’s face. He brought up his hand and promptly slapped you on the cheek. Hard. The all too familiar needle like feeling seeped in on your cheek. The taste of blood slowly began to form in your mouth.

“We all need a father. We all need some guidance.” David said, bringing his hand up to your face again. You winced, hoping he wouldn’t strike you again. Instead, his fingers grabbed your chin. “There’s always time to repent,”

He inspected your face, forcing it to turn in whichever angle he would like. Blood filled your gums and began to dribble down your face as he squeezed your cheeks together. “Such a pretty thing,” he sighed. You spat in his face. He sighed and wiped the blood and spit mixture from his forehead with his sleeve.

He let go and stepped back. “I see your confidence, I see your leadership, I see myself in you.” he explained, taking another step back. “We could lead, you know. Bring greatness to this group. I could give you a future. A future with me.”

A new kind of fear began as you slowly began to realize what he truly wanted from you. The only thing you were good for in his eyes, maybe besides your flesh. His eyes seemed to undress you under the few layers of clothes you had on. They had taken your coat the previous night and you were left in your jeans and one of Joel’s flannels you stole from his pack to stay warm.

“Just give him up and I’ll give you the world.”

You sat silently. It was obvious that David was getting annoyed. “He’s just your old dad. It’s probably better if my guys get to him before the-”

“He’s not my dad.” you said harshly. “Well,” David laughed. “My apologies.”

He dragged the stool from the corner of the cell to the side of the bed. He straddled the stool and got a little too close for comfort. “Is he her dad?” he asked. You shook your head no. “Uncle, brother, cousin…? I’m trying to understand the relationship so I don’t hurt the little girl too much.”

You looked away and focused on the painted white brick wall. He was searching for leverage, an advantage you were not about to give him. The breathing exercises were not working when you could smell David’s rancid breath on you. “Oh,” he said with a smirk. “I get it.”

“Your with him.”

Closing your eyes, you moved your hand over your face. “Aren’t you a little young for such an old geezer?” he asked. You shook your head no. What a fucking narcissist. This man had to be Joel’s age, and from the looks of how much hair he had left I would say, maybe, older.

The age gap was the one thing keeping you from going the extra step and pursuing Joel. The mutual attraction had been present for a while, but you both were too afraid to face the facts. And now that he was as good as dead, the mere thought of what could have been stung harder than it should have.

“If your not gonna talk, then I’m just going to move to your little friend.” David sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to get what he wanted out of you without some sort of leverage. His original plan hadn’t worked.

“No,” you called out, wanting to swallow your words back down. David’s back turned around again. “Then tell me pretty girl,” he said, each step echoing in the jail cell as he got closer to you. “Are you fucking him?” he asked, his nose almost touching yours. With lips pursed and your eyes tightly closed, you shook your head no. Your face rose with heat at the mere implication. 

“Liar.” he spit at you. He left you once again and sat outside your cage with his friends.

You began to doze off. Caged to the bed like a dog and freezing wasn’t the best headspace to stay in. You tried to imagine the penicillin Ellie came back with had some sort of super power and resurrected Joel so he could come kill this red headed motherfucker that wouldn’t stop staring you down. So that he could rescue you and Ellie and you could return to Jackson to get proper treatment and then take Ellie to the lab that was supposedly in Salt Lake City. So Joel could return to you and just be there and be alive. You missed Joel endlessly, even though you were just with him hours prior. And the last time you saw him, he was as good as gone.

As you were dreaming about the unlikely future, the men began to stir. One left, and another followed. There was muffled arguing down the hallway. David was getting angry about all the commotion and went to see what was happening.

“She what?” you heard him yell down the hall. “You mean to tell me she’s escaped?”

Your lungs caught your breath too hard when you heard him say that. She’s escaped? Ellie?

“Watch her.” David commanded, poking his head in the room and yelling at a man who you believed to be named James. He sat down in David’s stool and stared at you. You slowly began to get up, your leg chain dangling off the bed. James didn't say a word. 

Suddenly, two gunshots rang out. You grabbed for the white painted bars blocking you from leaving, and tripping on your leg chain. “No!” you screamed, pulling yourself back up. “No,” you said quieter, the reality of Ellie’s death started to become a little too real for your comfort. 

James had arisen, his hand rested on his gun in it’s holster as he anxiously stared at the door. He took a step back, contemplating what he was going to do. His back was turned to you. Another shot rang out, and James jumped backwards. In the hassle, the keychain holding your key to freedom was conveniently sticking out of his back pocket and was accessible to you. Without hesitation, you grabbed the keys and along fell out his knife. 

James was quick to react, grabbing your hand with the keys interlocked in your fingers. He grunted as your other hand met the set of keys and started to pry his cold, lanky fingers off the keys. James was hesitant to drop his gun, it would have been in reach for you. He was clueless that his knife was in reach where he couldn't see. 

“Fine,” he said, giving up. He let go and let you have the keys. “The second you try anything…” 

He looked over at his gun. He was still level with you on the ground. Sliding the keys behind you, you quickly grabbed the knife from behind him. Panic flashed in his eyes as you grabbed his neck and swiftly impaled his neck with the knife. He began to choke, and you pushed it in once again. His gun fell from his hand as he uselessly pawed at his neck. 

After a few tries with the various keys, you finally unlocked your leg from the chain that had been wrapped around your ankle all night. Quickly, you escaped your jail cell. You grabbed James’s knife from his neck and wiped it off on your jeans. Also, you stole his gun. 

You were shaking. Freezing and adrenaline wasn't the best combination at the moment. You were unsure of where to go. Where was Ellie? Where would Ellie go? You were all she had left. The cold hallway with a door with light pouring out under it seemed like the smart choice. 

When you opened the door, you were hit like a brick wall with a gust of wind blowing snow in your direction. Your arm immediately came to cover your eyes as you hastily made your way through the snow cloud. Just as it was about to clear, two arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you out in to the open. 

After grunting and fighting what you prayed wasn’t David or one of his associates, your hands were held behind your back tightly. Screaming and wriggling, you couldn’t hear the voice of your new partner in crime trying to calm you. 

“Y/N!” you finally heard. The haze around you seemed to settle. “Hey! It’s me,” 

You opened your eyes from the struggle and thought you were hallucinating from the evident dehydration and starvation. His hands now rested on your shoulders as he looked at you with the first inkling of real fear you had ever seen behind his eyes. 

“Are you alright?” Joel asked in a gutted tone, staring at the formation of a red handprint on your face. The fear turned into rage behind his eyes. All you could do was stare in to his face and enjoy the safe feeling once again. An unintentional sob came from you. Joel quickly embraced you. 

His hand shook as he cradled your head in his hand. “I got you,” he whispered, holding your body tight against his. “T-they still have her.” you whispered in his ear. 

Joel’s body stiffened. 

“Where?” he asked, letting you go. He reached for his coat, sliding it off his arms. “I don’t know I was trying to find her and—”

Joel noticed your hands and grabbed for them. They were covered in fresh blood. “Fuck,” he whimpered. “Go find her.” you said, pulling your hands away from his. “But—”

“Go,” you trembled. 

Joel’s longing look was one you were never going to forget. He saw the gun tucked in your pants and gave you a nod. “Hide,” he said in a hushed voice. 

As he was about to leave, you called out his name. He turned to you with a hurtful sigh. He was limping. Swallowing, you spit out the words to the man you had fallen for across this journey across the country. “I love you,” 

He was taken aback. It was definitely sudden and unexpected. His lips parted slightly in shock. Joel’s need to protect Ellie was strong at the moment. He didn’t have time to give in to these childish antics at the moment.

“I…”

His feelings for you wanted to stay, but his duty to Ellie, his duty to Sarah was more important than a silly crush on a silly girl. This whole time he thought he was just being delusional. All the little things, little moments the two of you shared he thought was just out of pure alliance and survival. 

Nausea filled you as you as you realized he had to go. He wasn’t going to say it back; from everything you knew about Joel Miller, you should have expected this exact reaction. He was unable to love, unable to just say it back to someone who was significantly younger than him and was a stranger just six months ago. Joel would regret this moment for the rest of his life. He stared at you in disbelief, unsure of what to do. He watched as your lips pursed and your hands wrap around your stomach, trying to keep yourself warm. 

“I’m sorry.” he muttered, turning away from you. 

You watched as you zipped his coat up as another gust of wind threw snow around the open space and he was gone.

Quickly, your eyes darted for a hiding spot. The survival instinct came in and tried its best to shut out the hurt you had just caused yourself. An old heat radiator stood a few feet to your left, in the direction Joel was. A produce crate covered in snow was another foot away and you picked it up, placing it next to the radiator. You sat on the freezing ground, clutching the gun and praying for something to go right today. 

A terrible scream erupted in the town’s square. You recognized that scream anywhere. Ellie, the little girl you had been with practically since her birth was in trouble. Your heart pounded in your chest as you jumped from your hiding space and ran towards the screaming. When you arrived, you stopped a few feet behind them. Joel was holding Ellie just as he was holding you moments before, moments before you had just fucked everything up. A lump rose in your throat as you feared the worst. 

“Ellie!” you yelled loudly and clear, catching the little girl’s attention. She looked up at you and wailed, her face was covered in blood. Almost falling on your knees mid run to her, she left Joel’s arms and collapsed in to yours. 

“Oh, baby.” you murmured, brushing her hair our of her face. She held on to you and sobbed in to your chest. You offered soft words of assurance, unaware of what monstrosities Ellie had just survived. Slowly rocking her back and forth, your hand intertwined with hers as you tried to calm her down. Brief words through the sobs Ellie let out broke your heart. 

“Y/N-” Joel said with a raspy voice. You shot him a look of hurt as you rested your chin on Ellie’s head. You slowly shook your head in disappointment. “It’s okay, Ellie.” you whispered in her ear. “Your safe now.”

“We really should go,” Joel urged, anxiously looking around. You closed your eyes, ignoring him. Ellie’s wails had subsided, but her grip on your waist hadn’t let up. 

“Let’s go,” you whispered to her, using the sleeves of Joel’s coat to wipe some of the blood off of her face. Joel was right. You all were heavily exposed at the moment. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

--

It was now night. The horse was gone, and Joel was barely able to keep upright for long. You had found a cave while trying to hunt down a rabbit. The three of you were going to rest there for the night. 

Ellie hadn’t left your side. Her hand was in yours as you made your way up the cold mountainside. Slowly, the three of you trudged upward. 

The rabbit you had caught for dinner was average. Joel was hurt, but still useful. He made a fire and helped Ellie get comfortable. She was in dire need for a good night of sleep. Hell, you all were in dire need for a good night of sleep. No words had been spoken between you and Joel since the small town. 

Ellie’s head rested in your lap. You sat against the wall of the cave and watched Ellie as she slowly took in breaths. Joel was fixated on the flames, making sure they were still roaring strong. 

“You should get some sleep,” Joel said, breaking the tension. You shrugged. “I-I can take first watch,” he offered. “No.” you said back bitterly. 

“Y/N,” Joel sighed, adjusting his tone to yours. “Are you going to be bitter the rest of this trip?” he asked bluntly. Your head snapped to look up at him. Joel raised an eyebrow. 

“I just need some time, Joel.” 

“Well, you kinda said it at the worst time possible.” he muttered, using the ground to stand up and fetch another log of wood for the fire. “Well,” you seethed. “I thought you were dead. When I saw you…I had to.” 

You sighed and closed your eyes as you heard him toss the wood on the fire. 

Joel’s shoulders slumped as he slid down back against the wall. “Yeah, I know.” he said heavily. “It’s just hard for me to hear things like that.”

You nodded. “I’m sorry. I should have been more… considerate.” you apologized, searching for the right word. Joel was right; wrong time and wrong place. Stretching your legs out towards the fire, Ellie stirred in her sleep. You and Joel stared at the girl, waiting for her to calm. Her grasp on your hand tightened, but she seemed to fall back into her hazy state.

“I failed her,” Joel said, a tinge of sadness backed up his tone. “Joel, no.” you sighed. “I-I should have been there. I should have been more careful and…”

His face scrunched as he placed his hand on his forehead, shielding his eyes. Was he… no. Was he?

Slowly, you moved Ellie off your lap. She let out a few grunts of protest, but you placed your backpack under her head. You scuffled next to Joel. He seemed to jump at your touch. “Joel,” you whispered, grabbing his hand in yours. Tears welled in his eyes. “I failed her Y/N.” 

The definition of her was falling on a fine line between Ellie and Sarah. 

“No you didn’t. You saved us, Joel. You saved her.” 

The two of you stared at Ellie. She was sound asleep. Ellie was now clean, you had helped her clean up in a freezing stream. It almost felt like a proud parent moment in some odd, fucked up way. The two of you staring at your miracle kid. She had survived and endured so much for her age. It was almost odd to see her resting so peacefully. The knowledge that the two of you got her there safely was enough to keep the hope flowing.

Your other hand fell over the one you had holding on to his, and your head rested on his shoulder. 

“I love that kid so fucking much,” Joel blurted out, his free hand moving to wipe a tear out of his face. “I know.” you said, feeling the emotions in you begin to rise. “I love her too,” you whispered, your eyebrows falling soft. Joel tried to keep it in, but a sudden gasp for air made it evident that he was crying. 

Sitting with him was the best thing you could do. Your hand rubbed over his knuckles that had healed from the events of leaving the Boston QZ. Slowly, testing your limits, your arm wrapped around his shoulders. He moved his head in to the nape of your neck and sighed. He was hiding behind you from his feelings and the world. You were his metaphorical escape. 

Joel’s mind wandered to all the previous moments the two of you had shared. Awkward, brief stares at each other in the Boston QZ periodically before you two actually knew each other. When you bandaged him up after a bullet graze. Your hands were so soft and you worked so carefully, making sure the process was as painless as you could make it. Or when you shared your last meal with him. You ripped the disgusting piece of jerky up and insisted he ate it. The two of you were sitting in what used to be a park and was watching Ellie play on the fragile equipment when it happened. One of the few moments she actually got to live like a kid. 

“Y/N?” Joel whispered in your ear. Turning to look at him, his eyes were red and puffy. “I do love you, you know.” 

A thin lipped smile rose to your face. You nodded. “I’m not very good at these kinds of things… I’m sorry.” he sighed.

You rejected his apology and rested your head back on his shoulder. “I know. Me too,” you managed to say, with a slight chuckle at the end. Your hand wrapping over his slowly turned in to his hand intertwining with yours. “We’ll get through this. Together.” you assured him. Joel nodded, leaning in to kiss you softly on the forehead. You felt a rush of happiness fill you at this small gesture. 

Joel was a hard man to crack, you had known that since the first day you met him. His stubbornness was relentless. This meant the world to you. 

Now as the two of you lay side by side, you felt him wrap his arms around you. Joel was so warm, it was comforting. He pulled you close, not caring what Ellie would think when she awoke. You both closed their eyes, praying this remote cave was safe enough to not stay up and watch for any danger. And it was. 

Joel was healing physically, but the shattered man inside began repairs as the night moved on. He knew he could do anything, feel anything, and try to be even an inkling of the man he used to be with you at his side.

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @mandoloriancookie @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy

[blasphemecel]

Michael Kaiser — Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.3k TYPE: Angst, Post-break up WARNING(S): Don't read if you're sensitive to medical stuff, also tw for KAISER-TYPICAL MELODRAMA

“Are you fucking kidding me? That just sounds made up.”

“Sir,” the doctor, who’s been having to deal with Kaiser acting like the hospital is a debate club for the past fifteen minutes, says. Then he lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. In all honesty, he does not want to deal with this. “While there’s an existing argument about the classification of broken heart syndrome, it is a real thing that happens. And you have it as we’ve deduced.”

“I don’t have health problems,” Kaiser says. Of course, those words fly out of his mouth without trouble even when Ness had to call an ambulance on him and everything, since he looked like he was on the brink of death today at practice. “Much less from bullshit reasons like a broken heart.”

“You don’t need to take it literally. That’s just the name. The trigger for the stress varies from case to case.”

Kaiser hopes his defensive statement didn’t reveal anything too personal, and decides to throw off any suspicion by staring down at his lap while frowning like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. At least the doctor doesn’t seem to care because he’s not prying for unnecessary details. Not yet, anyway.

“For how long have you been ignoring the symptoms?”

“I haven’t been ignoring anything,” Kaiser says.

Sure, he was dizzy a few (many) times and short of breath, and disregarded it. And while he can sense the tightness and pain in his chest each time, a recurring physical and tangible ache, Kaiser interprets the experience as some kind of metaphor for the figurative stabbing he was a victim of. The arrhythmia is a natural indignant response to whenever your irritating face pops up in his imagination, since you’re the perpetrator.

All this over some shitty break up. While it’s stupid for someone whose career is in sports to shrug off such obvious signs, until today Kaiser never truly thought it was serious enough to warrant such an overreaction from his body. You shouldn’t have this much power over him. He’s going to kill you next time he sees you for doing this to him.

He’s deep in denial and the grave he’s been digging with his stupid lies is shallow in contrast, inefficient. Can’t even deceive himself.

“It’s most common in people over fifty.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes. “Thanks. I really needed to hear that.”

“What I’m saying is, I assume you’ve been ignoring this for some time and it escalated to a bad attack. So, do you recall if you’ve gone through severe stress recently? Anything traumatizing even, either physically or mentally? When was it? If you could be exact, that’d be helpful.”

Traumatizing? Traumatizing? Is this man fucking kidding him right now?

Kaiser stares at the doctor as if he’s the stupidest person alive. Forget a person, he is a bug for such a suggestion. Through grit teeth, he relents, “There was something two weeks ago. By the way, it wasn’t traumatizing! That’s ridiculous.”

What’s even more absurd is the notion Kaiser wouldn’t know how much time has passed with perfect accuracy. Fourteen days he hasn’t been sleeping well, hugging his pillow and crying like a loser, cursing you, wanting you back, both a worshipper and a heretic.

What was he feeling at that moment, when you broke things off? Was it overwhelming anger which got him to this point? Though he’s been reliving the moment over and over, Kaiser still can’t identify it. Just something intense zapping him through his veins, a devastating shock, a surge of adrenaline. But surely it was resentment at your audacity to throw him away like disposable trash? He doesn’t like the thought that he’s been so pathetically sad, he got sick because of it, so this is what he’ll go with.

Thinking about it is enough to make him start picking at the skin on his neck like he’s trying to peel the ink off. It’s almost vile. At least he retains the common sense not to squeeze it in front of a medical professional who can send him away to a psych ward with ease.

The doctor, too, looks at Kaiser like he is an insane person. Good thing they pay him enough for this — otherwise, he doesn’t know how he’d deal with having a strange man with a bizarre haircut give him attitude over his diagnosis when it should be reserved for his barber or whoever is responsible.

“Two weeks ago, okay,” he says, writing it down. “Lucky for you, this is temporary and reversible unlike most other things we checked you for. You’ll be fine in about two months with the treatment.”

“So, like I thought, it’s not a big deal. I can still play football, right? Don’t need to lay off or anything?” Kaiser asks.

The doctor sighs. Again. He wants to measure the circumference, thickness and density of Kaiser’s skull. “You’re not listening,” he says, clearly exasperated, but still trying to exert patience. “Your heart is weak and not functioning properly at the moment. You can’t immediately jump back into living the way you usually do. It’s still serious no matter what you say and it can cause complications.”

Kaiser makes an annoyed expression like this is all one big inconvenience rather than a threat to his quality of life. “Are you serious? You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I’m honored you seem to think I’m a hilarious comedian, sir, since this is your nth time asking, but it’s not the case,” he says levelly.

“Don’t get clever with me.”

A sharp inhale through the nose and the doctor’s back on track, maintaining a feeble grasp on his inner peace, at least enough not to snap. Then, after this brief recollection, he reaches out to grab something, then holds it up. It’s a picture that looks either like an abortion-to-be or a black and white photo of lasagna… maybe. “This is your heart.”

Kaiser almost forgot about the ultrasound or whatever since he was strung out and sedated- relaxed throughout that whole ordeal. At the sight of it now, always theatrical, he decides the best course of action is to wrinkle his nose and say ‘eww,’ even though he’s not squeamish. But treating the matter seriously means admitting he has a problem, and he can’t have that.

The doctor pretends he can’t hear anything and points at the relevant area with his finger to illustrate the crux of the matter better. “You have apical ballooning. Do you get it? Even if it’s temporary, you can’t treat it lightly. So-”

Kaiser tunes out the rest of the explanation. Blah, blah, he could harm himself, very original. His gaze is stuck on the echocardiogram, though, and this time he’s nauseous for real, the tiniest bit. It strikes him as particularly ugly and deformed. Organs are repulsive to begin with, anyway, but this… thing is his, and he’s seeing it now. In any case, nothing so disgusting is worth loving or treating with care.

Is this how you’ve come to see him? What does Kaiser look like in your eyes? Ugly and maladjusted on the inside? Someone who likes laughing at other people’s misery, but can’t take even the slightest puncture? So out of touch with his emotions — and of his own volition —, he’s started experiencing them in the most visceral way possible. His desire for you: torment, a disease.

Would you find him dramatic? Maybe, but at least you’d make him laugh and smile and anything else his troubled mind has decided he needs at the moment, from you alone. Doesn’t matter, though. He’s not privy to that kind of thing, not anymore.

There’s a sting in his eyes and Kaiser wipes away his tears with a hasty swipe, though a few more stream down his cheeks. He doesn’t even know what he’s crying about again.

The doctor observes the display with the distanced apathy of someone who’s watched people die and shit themselves.

He gets discharged with a prescription and elaborate instructions on how to go about his physical activities until it’s deemed he’s fully healed at the later check-ups.

Great. Pitiful.

___

What's funny is that Y/n's probably having a good day while all this is going on

[yuyuonabeat]

Doll Face. It’s Getting Hot Pt.2🫣

Pt.1 here

A/N: Yeah mainly because he has me on a chokehold

His hands roaming down your back trying to loosen your shirt so he can see more of you. It’s risky and you know it but gosh you’re so turned on right now that you couldn’t care anymore.

He starts kissing your neck and collarbones. Looking at you with glazed lustfull eyes.

“H-hongjoong..Please be gentle.”

You’re a blushing mess. And fuck he just looks so godly right now. His hair a mess and his chest on full display for your needy eyes to see.

“It’s alright baby girl, must be your first time then. I’ll take care of you but I warn you..”

He leans into your ear and whispers “I can get quite animalistic when I’m near my high” he then nips your earlobe with his teeth.

You shiver at his words. Never imagined your first time would be with The Captain of Ateez.

You start to explore his body a bit more. Never taking your eyes off the surroundings as you’re scared you may get caught. He notices and grabs your chin down closer to his face with one hand.

“Baby let lose, I got you.” He winks at you and smashes his lips into yours making you moan in shock.

Kissing him felt like heaven. His lips with a hint of cherry chapstick made you even more wet than you already were.

He grabs your waist with one hand while he unbuttons the rest of his shirt with the other. Never breaking eye contact with you.

You moan at the sight of his hard nipples looking so pretty on his chest. You bite your lip and get closer to kiss at them. Sucking on his nipples earning a moan from him.

He gets comfortable sinking a bit more into the chair with his legs fully wide open.

Grabbing your ass and squeezing it he then pushes you back to look at him.

“Strip for me Doll.”

That couldn’t sound any better. And so you started to take your shirt off but he caught you off guard by stopping you.

“Slowly, I wanna enjoy the view Doll.”

You moved your hips a bit forward at his command. Slowly taking your shirt off and then getting up from his lap to do your pants as well.

You could see him licking his lips while he strokes his boner through his jeans.

You swallow hard noticing how big he was.

“So pretty for me Doll. Wanna make a mess of you.”

Suddenly he’s stripping himself off too and harshly turns you around so that your back is facing his chest and he slams your body down on the small table next to you.

Bending down to your ear he whispers. “I may have lied, I don’t think I can control myself baby, so tonight your pussy is gonna get ripped open.”

His hot breath hitting your ear makes you shiver. He pins your arms behind your back.

Feeling so dirty and vulnerable being pinned down on a table by a man while you’re fully naked in such a public place.

But you were not stopping now. You wanted this. You’ve been praying for this. Begging the gods for Hongjoong to notice you. And your wish had now been granted.

Hongjoong starts to grind his boner against your ass, giving one of your cheeks a squeeze after delivering a spank to the other. He groans in his raspy voice.

All you feel is his hard dick against your ass. You just want him to fuck you already so you take it upon yourself to grind yourself against him for some friction.

That only earns you a loud harsh spank making you moan.

“Pretty girl is so desperate for Captains dick huh? Well behave like a good girl and you’ll get rewarded.”

He backs away from you body making you whimper at the loss of heat from his body. You feel him bend down on his knees and then your ass cheeks being spread wide open like jelly.

“Ugh so pretty and wet. Pretty pussy needs some licking, and I need sure wanna taste you so badly.”

Hongjoong starts to lick at your folds and then moves to your clit. Making you clench at nothing. He slowly eats your pussy while moaning, vibrations from that making you moan in pleasure.

“That feels good Doll? I see you enjoying this.”

With that you mewl. Him now fucking you with his tongue. Making you see starts just with his mouth.

“Fuck baby you taste so good, I could eat this pussy all day. Maybe this pussy needs an owner.”

You try to understand what he’s saying but you’re too fucked out already to make any sense of the words coming from his mouth.

“Imma mark you so good and fuck you so hard so that your pussy knows who she belongs to. So pretty. You fucked dumb already?”

“I-fuck…. don’t stop please…”

He smirks at how much you seem to enjoy it.

“And to think I haven’t given you the big thing.”

As soon as those words leave his mouth. He grabs his leaking cock with one hand and rubs it through your wet dripping hole. Pushing it inside all in one go without prepping you or even giving you a warning first.

“Fuck!” You scream. Hongjoong was big and you knew it but you didn’t imagine it would be this painful. Being your first time, you’d expect him to be gentle. But as your tight walls get accustomed to his huge cock, you only wish for him to start fucking you.

“Oops Princess, I told you I’d get rough. And fuuuck you’re so tight hmmm hugging my dick so well.”

He doesn’t let you speak, he starts pistoning his cock in and out of your tight cunt making you choke on your words.

He throws his head back as he rams himself into you like you’re made out of rubber. Smacking your ass like it’s made for it. Grabbing at your hips as he moans in pleasure.

“Dammit Doll, fuck this pussy is so so good. Hmm best pussy I’ve fucked so far. It’s rubbing my ego to know that I’m the first to fuck you. Didn’t imagine such pretty thing like you to be a virgin.”

He grabs the back of your hair, pulling on it harshly, making you scream.

Your eyes start to get watery, tears rolling down your cheeks, your lips swollen from all the biting you’ve done to try and quiet your moans. This man was seriously a beast and you start thinking perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea letting him fuck you.

“I…I’m so close..H-hongjoong…. Please don’t stop.”

You cry as he pounds himself into you like a wild dog in heat.

Hongjoong groans and fastens his movements now filling the room with the sound of your wet skin clapping together. Your moans filling his ears, sound like angels singing to him.

“Fuck baby, already cumming? I’m hmm fuck, I’m also close too.”

Hongjoong places one of his legs on a stool next to the table you’re on to give him more stability. He goes even faster and deeper than earlier. Whimpers escaping from your throat as growling sounds and moans escape from his.

“Uhhhh baby I’m so close let me cum inside you… I wanna fill this tight pussy up with my cum. Yeah wanna paint your walls with my seed.”

You try to think for a second if that should be a good idea. I mean you’ve never taken the pill as you’ve never had sex before. But gosh he was fucking you so good that you couldn’t care less.

“Yes fuck …fill me up please… f-feels so good.”

As he feels his release getting close he grabs your shoulders, pulling you up against his body and grabs your neck. Kissing you and moaning in your ear as he cums inside you. Shortly after, you cumming as well.

“God baby that was…so good.”

He kisses you and squeezes your hips.

He lets you go and starts to dress himself. Grabbing some wipes from the tissue box you use for makeup, he helps you clean his cum from inside you and from what’s leaking down your thighs.

“I didn’t….think it would feel that good.”

He looks up at you. Proceeds to help you dress yourself as well.

“What? Having sex?” He asks with a grin.

You nod. Putting your shirt on and fixing your hair.

“Oh baby then you better get ready, that was just a little taste of what I can do.”

He smirks and winks at you. Making you gasp and look down at your feet shyly.

“Come on Doll! I just fucked you. Don’t get shy with me now. Also we should definitely get going. Don’t want the guys thinking we aren’t where needed cause we’re doing something else.”

He winks at you and laughs.

You can’t help but laugh as well. You take your things and follow him out to meet the boys and the other staff members.

As the day is ending. You find yourself laying on your hotel bed. Staring at the ceiling you try to blink away the thought of Hongjoong fucking you again.

You think of the possibility of him fucking you again. I mean they do have to perform again next Friday….

You just wished he’d have a small sort of malfunction to his clothes or hair after the performance so he can come to you and then end up fucking you and cumming inside of you again.

Maybe he’d even let you suck his dick next. Or fuck you in another position where you could see him fully. You weren’t sure. All you know was that you wanted him badly.

That man had definitely woken up something inside you. And now you find yourself rubbing your thighs together at the thought of Captain Hongjoong.

The pet name “Doll” never leaving your brain. Every time it rolled off his tongue so nicely, made you nearly cum in an instant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Well this definitely turned out semi okay. Let me know what you guys think. Please reblog and like. It helps a lot to know my work is being enjoyed. And also don’t forget to leave me some suggestions or asks in the inbox please! I’d love to know what my readers want me to write next.

[death---dealer]

What if reader had a thing with the other guy before noa? And seeing him again would be something. 🧐

*fumbles and slips over my own self agony* Another SERIES? for NOA?

Series Name: Past Days. Chapter Title: A Day Doesn't Go By. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Pairing: Yearning! Noa x Human! Reader Human! Reader x Human!Male. Rating: T. ( Mentions of ape aggression, possessiveness, flat out agony. ) Words: 4K. Summary: You know that idea I had about you leaving and having a child with a Human Male? Only this time Noa and Reader didn't mate before. Good luck everyone. This is a series.

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“We were together before I met you,” Your words were concise, very thought out like you had to rehearse what you were saying. Noa had no doubt that it was the case, smelling the Echo Male just outside the thatched doorway that was propped shut for some privacy. “He-He’s a good man.”

"Good man?” Noa felt like he was going to roar, but swallowed it back down his esophagus and enjoyed the choke that it gave him.

“He comes--- He comes to my Clan, lays claim to---”

There was only a vague gesture towards you, something that was so minute to you that it wasn’t clear in the light provided by the small fire pit in the center of the room. One side sat Noa, back towards you, one side sat you, facing forward in hopes that he had the audacity to look you face to face. “You never… Told us of him.”

"I---” Your voice dripped with the smallest detection of hesitation before your bottom lip drew itself in and got caught between your teeth to be nibbled upon. Noa could see the action in his head regardless of his position and all he wanted, the tug he had inside of his rattling chest already brimming with innate jealousy, was to turn and look at you. One of his favorite sights to bear witness to, one of those things that were not Echo exclusive anymore. They were only yours and Noa liked to imagine he was the only one who knew that.

 “I thought he was dead--- I saw him…” Agony pierced through the Master of the Birds at the sudden shift of your tone. “I saw him dragged away by a pack of Apes. What was I supposed to think?!”

“So you… Kept secrets from us then?”

Silence.

“You lied?”

Noa’s brows were tediously torn in to each other and with each and every rise of his shoulders as he inhaled did nothing to calm down the pinned back fact that you had kept a secret from him for so long. No, No --- Not just a secret, but it appeared to be an entire web of lies that you yourself were unable to untangle yourself from. First, this… Echo Male shows up. Fine, Noa can deal with that if he needed - He wasn’t below defending his Clan in the shadows of danger, coming to terms that if that case ever arose, he was going to need to rely on his own skills to do just that. You knew this Echo Male? Fine, Noa can dea--- 

You were embracing this Echo Male, familiarly to the point where even Noa himself had to look away at the intimate nature of which your back was pressed forward, into a male pelvic bone that was not his own, tears falling down your face as you touched his face with careful hands, hands that Noa wanted to feel against himself, lips being captivated in a way that was rare for Apes, but seemed abundantly clear that it was a favored form of affection as you drew your arms around the skinny neck of the Echo Male, the movement of your jaw against his indicating to Noa that you had your tongue sweeping somewhere other than your own mouth.

It was disgusting, he couldn’t look away, he’d never seen something like that before, the turn in his stomach so uncomfortable and tight that he felt his abdomen was going to snap in on itself. Words were spoken, Noa was sure. But were they really needed? Your hair was brushed into by sleek fingers that Noa knew weren’t equipped to properly defend. What in the highest heavens could this Echo Male possibly do with those?

 They-- They… Noa snarled, his back towards you as it had been for the last ten minutes as your desperate pleas fell on deaf ears. They were like little twigs and Noa wanted to bite every single one of them off just to please his bloodthirst that suddenly set in when the realization dawned upon him that this Echo --- This. This Man was your mate. Of sorts. Noa did not press for details, he didn't want to know them and his mind already ran with the prospect that you were not who he thought you were despite the months you had been at the clan. You were a fraud, a selfish little Human who did what they had to in order to survive in this world.  “No!” You shouted, finally sitting yourself up from your perched seat against a tree trunk that was used for the Apes who used the workbenches in the hut you secluded yourself in. “I didn't lie!”

“Then what?”

It was your turn to growl out of frustration, the only way to get your point across it seemed was with primal inflictions  in the back of your throat. “Noa, you’re being irrational!”

“Me? I am--- Thinking of the Clan! Cannot have two ECHO’S.” Snarling at you, he moved in his seat only slightly to ball his hands into fists, an instinct that shot aggression right down his spine. “Two Echo who can mate and make others---” Noa was stagnant at that, figuring the implication of his words were enough for you to get the point across. “Do you not understand… How dangerous is that to APES?”

Noa finally stood but refused to come around the fire so you could see him properly. From the stance though, you were able to figure out that you had messed up. Severely made a mistake and now you were going to pay the price. Your eyes admired and feared the way his shoulders broadened, making himself appear much larger despite his frame already being on a bulker side than your own. His teeth shone in the fire pits luminescence and no matter how hard you tried, there was not a drop of familiarity in his eyes. “You say… This man is a good one, how do you know?”

You were scrambling, sputtering out in an attempt to answer the question. You knew he was a good man from years of being with him, there was no way that Noa was going to understand that without in-depth details. “I just do.” You finally rested.

“WHY SHOULD I TRUST YOU?” Noa shouted. “You come here to Eagle Clan, we take you in, Noa, Anaya Soona become your friends--- You become one of us, and you throw it all away for some ECHO?” 

His voice was thunderous through you, causing you to shift and sit yourself back down before your knees gave way to your weight crushing them. Eyes widened at first at the shock wave that was barreling through you at the dawning aspect that Noa was indeed an Ape first, no matter how many times you tried to pin Human Qualities on him. There was absolutely nothing stopping him from lunging at you out of anger and the crack of his voice, just like a whip against your eardrum, sent you spiraling like blood was seeping out of your ears now.

“THAT’S WHO I AM.” It was your turn to shout, not leaving your seat and staring at him, completely flabbergasted at the tearing nature of your own voice that reverberated against the wooden walls. “That’s…” You drew a deep breath in and closed your eyes, finishing in a coarse but gentler way, “Who I am.”

His voice was thunderous through you, causing you to shift and sit yourself back down before your knees gave way to your weight crushing them. Eyes widened at first at the shock wave that was barreling through you at the dawning aspect that Noa was indeed an Ape first, no matter how many times you tried to pin Human Qualities on him. There was absolutely nothing stopping him from lunging at you out of anger and the crack of his voice, just like a whip against your eardrum, sent you spiraling like blood was seeping out of your ears now. 

“That’s all I am to you now, right?” Crackling as you spoke, you found it difficult to stop your voice from sounding so frail as tears budded around the corner of your eyes. You were never going to be able to have it both ways, and now that you had bargained that against a Chimpanzee, you made your choice. “Just an Echo?”

Noa opened his mouth, ghosting a small ‘you were so much more’ that lingered on the tip of his tongue. Moving his jaw forwards and backwards a few times, depth in contemplation up to his eyes, Noa turned his face ever so slightly after having turned his back to you again, the jolt in your chest eradicating your emotions at the slight of his drawn in features, usually so kind and so accepting that you did not recognize who was in the room with you.

He raised his hand and gave you one clear sign, just as concise but more bitter than the beginning of this fruitless conversation. It flared against the heat rising from the fire that artistically bent his fingers. 

‘Just an Echo.’

“Noa---” “You need to leave…. Immediately,” He pointed his muzzle towards the door, “He is… You are… Both dangerous to the Clan.” ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・

Noa felt sick to his stomach. Even worse, the bile was bubbling in his stomach surely but he was unable to find himself able to relieve that feeling and he found it somewhat comforting as he heat rose against his diaphragm. The more his green gaze caught hold of yours mid-conversation, the smile he had taken time to learn every minute detail about from the curving as you formed it, the baring of your teeth, even the subtle wrinkles near the corners of your mouth, all seemed to make him flash red in front of his vision, temporarily blinding him in a fit of adverse envy. You had pressed yourself against Soona in a tight embrace, your words falling short and Noa was unable to hear anything you were saying. Maybe something like a ‘thank you’ of sorts. Noa wished he didn't care. He couldn’t find it in himself to look away. Your head tilting back to give him just a taste of your jugular enough for Noa to feel a flood of saliva coat the back of his throat in a frenzied attempt to prepare himself to bite you when Soona told you something funny as a departing gift. The coarse nature of your swinging laugh, hand placing itself onto your chest where he wanted nothing more than to grasp at the bones and pull them away to have you lay completely bare under you so he could seep into your very blood. 

Anaya was next, garnering himself a few stolen tears from your eyes as you clasped your arms around him tightly, his neck being laxed as you pulled him into your frame. He reciprocated, much like Noa expected him too with a small sniffle as his long arms tangled around you and kept you close to the point where you wheezed out a bit and Anaya loosened his grip. Noa caught the other Ape muttering something into your neck that sounded vaguely like a ‘Visit… Eagle Clan again?’ Followed by your eyes peering into Noa’s over Anaya’s shoulders, piercing into him with intensity and fire that contradicted your actions. ‘Maybe someday.’ You told him back, knowing it to be a complete lie. You were never to return, Noa made sure you were aware previously.

With your hand on the door to leave, you heard Noa’s voice one last time, “If I see you or… Echo Male on Eagle Clan Territory, I will come to kill you myself. Never allowed back.”

How he hated this. Hated you. Not in actuality, there was nothing that Noa could imagine that would make him viciously hate you, but he was teetering on a very fine line as far as his strung emotions went. Your hand pressed against a knee-cap, similar to structure to your own, slightly bigger and Noa found himself catapulting in the idea of shattering it. The crunch, the pull of the tendons as they were flushed and snapped under his stupendous strength. Noa felt his tongue brush against his canines in his open mouth, now salivating more at that idea than the previous notion of biting into your neck.

He caught eyes with you again and while you tried to keep the contact as cordial as possible while being yanked onto the horse back with your mate, even granting him the delicious swoop or your eyes forming a smile, all for him Noa thought selfishly and felt small hackles rise on his shoulders at the idea that you were do anything for him, this time the Ape was quick to look away and focus his eyes on the brushing strokes of the communal bonfire in the distance. Out of his periphery, he could see your arms wrapping around the tapering waist of another Male, one Noa let win out of the sake of your own wellbeing.

How good of a life could you truly have had with him? An Ape? Genetically, a child was improbable, culturally, something would have derailed you from him and his Clan and you’d leave anyway when you realized there was no satisfaction in staying, so he was more than agreeing to let you go back out into the world with your own kind. Where you can have a child, where culturally you share all the same aspects, where Noa knew you were able to get what you needed without himself or the other Apes hindering you.

His last words echoed in his mind.

He’d kill you if you came back, if any of you came back, his green gaze locked onto the Echo Male’s for a moment, and with a tilt of the head from your mate towards Noa as an acceptance of sorts, he began trotting off. Balling his hands into fists, it took all of Noa’s willpower to not chase after you in a desperate plea to get you to stay. Even if it meant the Echo Male stayed with you, he’d make it work, he’d convince the Elders. But--- He stopped himself as you looked over your shoulder at him, tears rolling fatly down your cheeks to kiss near your chin and drip off. 

One by one, Noa watched them fall until he was no longer able to see them. And one by one, he heard the horses' hooves getting farther and farther away, only taking mild-solace when Soona came to his side and wrapped her arm into Noa’s as a form of empathy. He spotted her a glance, nothing more before he looked back upwards into the woods. 

Five Years Later.

“You need to stay close to mommy,” You scolded your child softly, your fingers brushing their hair back softly out of comfort. They seemed afraid, as if they ventured too far from you and were lost, searching for you but ended up frozen in their spot when all the aspects of the forest became a carbon copy. Crouching down in a way that sends you reminiscent of the way your body used to fall when you were with the Clan, you tilted your head. Your knee tapping against Noa’s as you and he spent an afternoon bathed in the sun while near the rivers edge--- Even after all this time you thought to yourself and shook the idea out of your head, letting your fingers cup the plump cheek of your offspring.

“It’s dangerous out here, remember?”

They did not respond to you immediately, wide eyed, more so than usual as they held such curiosity about the world and you truly did your best to harbor that curiosity and to teach within your means. A shackle of electricity ran down your spine when you sensed you were being watched.

Always a primal instinct but it was one that you learned needed to be paid attention in the last five years. Slowly, as to not raise an alarm to your child or even to your husband who was five or so meters to your right scattering through some berry bushes for goods to bring back, you let your eyes scan the area. Upon first glance, there was nothing out of the norm so you began tracing your child’s line of vision to see what they had been fixated on, their small mouth now propped open to mutter one word towards you, a word they knew well enough from your tales and from the lore your husband told them before bed. 

“Ape.”

Ape.

Eyes widened slowly as you peered straight into the woods in front of you, coming eye to eye with another set of intelligent gazes that sent your hand towards the clutch that held your small dagger strapped to your thigh. Not equipped for an actual fight, you only trailed out from your camp that you shared with another set of Human parents to go fish and collect some wood trimmings for the fire. Cursing under your breath as you often ventured out with only your husband, the other couple you lived with taking time to babysit your child, you had brought them with you this afternoon after they begged. After they wanted to learn what Mom and Dad did out in the wilderness. 

You kept away from the Ape Clans of the area that you knew about. The fishing Clan that was off to the west, they held no animosity towards you but that didn't mean they wouldn’t attack if you got too close to their land which happened once or twice when you went to a particular river, the Tweed Clan that was nestled right against the outer banks of the Echo Ruins, often scavenging them for goods to use in their pieces of work of clothing, baskets, satchels. The Lumber Clan, closer to the peaks of the hills that surrounded the area, primed for chopping down the newly spruced trees but also knowledgeable to plant more in its place.

The last one ---- The Eagle Clan. You were in agreement with your husband to stay as far away from that as possible after you had told him of the empty threat that their leader left you with so many years ago. Empty to you, you knew Noa would never act upon the words and you were confident of that, but your husband thought otherwise as he did not know them the way that you did. So, all these years you stayed away, longing for a glimpse of what became of the Apes you considered your friends but to no satisfaction. Even when you swore you saw Eagle Sun, you told yourself that it was just a regular Eagle, perched upon a branch and brought no information back to their Master.

Swallowing lightly, you barely clicked your tongue which garnered the attention of your husband. He was quick to spot you, quick to watch your hand make movements that you had taught him from the Apes themselves, telling of the danger that was resting less than ten meters in front of you. He was slower on his feet, faster movements could be indicative of a threat to the wild Apes you were able to see. Two of them, one slightly bigger than the other though both were hunched in on themselves, very similarly to your stance, out of defense. 

‘Take Luna,' You signed at your husband, languidly pulling the young child behind your back and into the grasp of her father. In silence, he told her not to speak, not to make a sound by pressing his fingers to his lips in a quiet ‘shhh’. 

You shared a glance with your husband, ‘Two,’ The sign was clear, ‘Female, male. Male is defending, female might be with child----’

Vision suddenly became more vivid as the sun tore itself out of the clouds above and the golden rays danced through the tree leaves above, cascading to the ground below. You were staring at the male, for every time you moved to the left, they mimicked your behavior in a means to keep themselves leveraged in case you decided to run. Unsurely, you tried to keep your heart from beating out of your chest as you came to rise, cautiously, your fingers unbuttoning your dagger from its cozy home and taking the hilt into your dominant hand. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see your husband slowly untangling himself from the arrow that he carried against his back. It was time, you drew a deep breath into your lungs and stood fully, defending the ground you were on, “We don’t want to fight, we were just out getting wood for our fire.” Nothing, they just stared at you tentatively and in the shadows playing from the leaves of the heavens, you could have sworn that you saw the male Chimp tilting his head in shock or amazement. They signed something towards their presumed mate, your eyes at this distance unable to detect what was said. 

“We'll leave,” You stepped backwards once, cautious of where your feet were being placed. “Right now. We can all go,” Narrowing your eyes at movement as the male came forward, you tightened the grasp on your dagger and heard your husband whisper to your child to run if the Chimpanzee chose to come forward in a lurch. “We can all go out separate ways and forget we even saw each other.”

They came into more light and you were more avidly able to see details about them. Two cross body bags that merged together on the chest and digging into thickened fur all across the taut muscles that could aid in ripping your face off, dancing now from his hunched over position, thin waist belt that shifted with each move of his tapering hips. The last article of adornment left your mouth slightly dry because there was absolutely no way your eyes were seeing correctly.

The tan and orange tinge of the bicep band was familiar enough, your fingers dallied against your dagger as you imagined how it felt. Leathery, you had felt it before when you asked the Eagle Clan Leader what material it was made out of. The adjacent blue feathers came into view and solidified your entire train of thought. He was larger than he was five years ago - Finally growing more from the lanky nature of his arms and legs. Thickened fur hit his body in the right places, your eyes shocked to see the scar still remained against his right pectoral. 

Swallowing was impossible. There was a choked sort of cry resting in the back of your throat as he proceeded a bit closer and you found yourself staggering backwards. Speaking was impossible, your vocal cords were failing you. Breathing was impossible, it felt like your lungs were seeped with sap from a maple tree, thickening and causing pained core memories to flash in front of your eyes before you looked back towards the female Chimp he was traveling with. A tear prickled down your right cheek as they looked right back at you, suddenly flushed with familiarity. 

“So-Soona?”

They tensed at the sound of your voice, the angular nature of their body shifting ever so slightly but refusing to come any closer. Your husband's reaction behind you was palpable as he reached down to grasp Luna into his arms, eyes looking down at you before looking forward again. He’d only met them once, there was no way he recognized them by appearance. He knew their names though, something you spoke about with kind fondness, inflicting a bit more bitterness towards the male who now came into full view and there was no way for you to deny it any longer. 

“Noa.”

[sadist1224]

A little Mafia!Price 18+

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part4 Everyday life

It's a little dirty towards the end!

Mafia!Price is the underground king of this city. Invisible, but alert and intimidating.

Mafia!Price, who takes care of his home, even if his ways are immoral and illegal. He had long ago realized that the road to hell was paved with good intentions, and his city, sinking and rotting from corruption, lies and violence, could only be saved by an iron and merciless grip.

Mafia!Price, who built his empire on the ruins of former mafia gangs.

Mafia!Price, who is covered in blood not to the elbows, but to the top of his head, to bring balance to his house.

Mafia!Price, who, despite all his strength, power and authority, has weaknesses. His named family are his boys, who went through all the bloody hell after him and never complained.

Mafia!Price, who is devoted to all of them, as well as they are to him.

Mafia!Price, who loves his boys, all of them, without exception, in a variety of ways.

Mafia!Price, who didn't even think about expanding his family until fate brought them together with you.

Mafia!Price, who watched with disbelief and curiosity as his Gas and Soap swirled around you, trying to get your attention. Oh, it's been so long since he's seen his boys in love.

Mafia!Price, who was surprised to find out that even a Ghost is attracted to you for some reason.

Mafia!Price, whom even the most influential and proud married women of the city will beg to warm his bed while their husbands work for him and for him, but ironically, the only woman he wants to see in his bed, between his boys, under them and on them is an ordinary barmaid who is not afraid to say everything she thinks to a man in person, even if he is the head of one of the most influential gangs in the city.

Mafia!Price, who has a private office with a gorgeous sturdy oak desk. And you will obviously find yourself in this room more than once. And for more than one reason.

Mafia!Price, who does not like to be distracted from work, especially from paperwork, as his stern, handsome face always says. But he doesn't really mind at all if it's you. Only you can break into his office with impunity without knocking, opening the door almost from your feet to definitely attract his attention.

Mafia!Price, who purposely does not take his head off the papers to annoy you, although in fact all his attention is focused on you, your disgruntled face and disheveled appearance.

Mafia!Price, who likes the way the edges of your shirt are slightly peeking out from under your belt, and your bangs are uneven, but so beautiful.

And while you're telling him in an angry manner that one of his small fry was seen again in the neutral zone extorting money from civilians!..

Mafia!Price, in his thoughts, is already pinning you to the table, wrapping his big hands around your hips, imagining what kind of underwear you're wearing today and how he will tear it off with his hands or teeth. He would then definitely buy you a new black lace, with thin ribbons wrapping around your waist and hips, even better if you chose it together.

Mafia!Price, who has already imagined a dozen ways to occupy your mouth instead of this useless conversation. He can shut you up with a rough kiss, pulling your hair back, opening your neck for love bites and hickeys. Or vice versa, to lure you with gentle kisses along the jaw, pressing you by the waist so close to his body that you feel warm and calm.

Mafia!Price, who gets goosebumps from your confused face and the sight of reddened lips.

Mafia!Price, who is thinking about how long it will take Gaz, Sope and Ghost to get to his office, and how much he will have time to do with you while they are walking.

Mafia!Price you're still here, still telling him off for not fulfilling the contract. And he doesn't like the way you present it. He's a man of his word, it's part of his reputation.

He just will never tell you that your "unexpected" appearances dilute his routine, and how much he likes it.

Mafia!Price, who pretends to sigh wearily and nervously, breaking out of his thoughts to give up on you and, reluctantly, drive you away from here. Oh no, you don't have to know how much you influence him.

Hell, he doesn't even know whether to nail these idiots for not following orders or throw in a bonus for another meeting with you. But he will have to deal with it if he wants his fantasies to come true.

[overtaken-stream]

Thinking about Modern AU!King who is a police officer

This loses its plot... For a reason unclear to me. Also, rats and snitches although annoying are my guilty pleasure characters

Happy Valentine's Day My Pookie(s)!

Also, it's been a minute since I've last written smut, sorry if it's underwhelming and ooc for King, blame it on the stress of having to enforce laws all day.

Warnings: Choking, breeding.

King is an officer in his own right, wearing the black patrol uniform shirt that flexed with his moves, not exactly tight but enough to make the muscles under it visible, the lightweight body armor leaves his hidden underbelly to the imagination.

The officers at the station are jealous of his physique, while women fall over themselves at the sight the man brings. His sense of justice is firm, the way he speaks and treats the criminals he catches is enough for people to swiftly figure it out.

Alber doesn't complain about his job, even when his co-workers encourage it, with that scowl constantly on his face it's hard to differentiate enjoyment from irritation. He is a man of few words outside of work, is what every person thinks. It's what they assume.

They don't know about the bribes he accepts in the alleys when no one is watching, not when the criminal proposing it is shaking in their boots, afraid to say a word about Alber's betrayal of Just, they could never use the blackmail material even if they wanted to.

His co-workers don't know about the second face he puts up in front of them, a mask not much different from the real Alber, but distant, one that can be overshadowed if kept in one place too long.

They don't know about his connections to the underworld, his relation to the King, let alone the Emperor.

There's only one person aside from his Relations who knows of true him.

He arrives without a mask to uncover, a cozy place he calls home awaits for him with open arms.

Your face is bright as you greet him. Arms tight around his neck and your fragrance in his complexion is not enough to distract him from the fact that he can feel your breasts through the layers of clothes separating you two. Your whole body is hanging off of him, yet his muscles are unfazed.

He is home.

! !NSFW! !

The exhaustion in his gut is replaced by a pool of arousal and he can feel his pants tighten.

Only after grabbing your thighs and putting them around his abdomen, does he catch your gaze before firmly latching his lips with yours, tongues intertwined together as you gently cup his face, the soft temptation of your lips swings the craving in front of his face. The mess of saliva is nothing compared to what he wants to do after a frustrating day.

Getting to the bed and not fucking you in the middle of the living room is a hard task to accomplish considering all King wants to do is rip the clothes off and taste the sweet nectar already.

Your back meets the silky sheets and hands tug at King's shirt, eyes glazed over and lips covered in saliva. You are truly an apple of Kings' eyes. In seconds it comes off, leaving the fruits of your labor sprawled on the table as the shirt goes flying off. Not wasting a second, King leans over you, hands grasping at your attire until the nude figure lies before him.

The tips of his eyebrows turn down, framing an evil smirk on his lips, not a single malice could be felt.

You can feel the butterflies flutter in your stomach. Can feel your insides clench down on nothing. Flush rises on your face and in the moment your legs try to close around the hand now resting in front of your heat, but to no avail.

``Don't get shy on me now.``

His two fingers glide slowly on your clit before plunging swiftly inside, picturing your shivering walls is driving him to get on with it, your sweet wail does not help. His lips seal yours shut, stealing sharp hisses from you as he stretches out the fingers and drags them unhurriedly but with pressure out and in. His teeth clash along yours, lips eat away yours until he engulfs you, it's what you feel anyway. His furrowed brows are that much more handsome on his heated face. His passion takes your breath away and blows the air right in.

Digits are knuckle deep as he finally fastens his pace, thumb pressuring your clit and rubbing harshly on the button, you turn your face sideways, mouth agape and eyes shut, with no shame you let loose the sounds that'll make the neighbors turn red and King fall deep into perversion.

``Oh? You like that? Like how my fingers feel?``

Your hips have a mind of their own, chasing the height without your permission. King lets you hump his wrist, too busy shoving one more finger down the pleasure hole and spearing them into you, it touches every right place, pushes on every button, tightening every knot you have and making your eyes water from the ecstasy.

``O-oh-ugh—yesss! Fuck yes...♡``

You barely respond, the loud and wet sounds your pussy emits as his thumb finally pushes on the right angle and keeps it there, giving you the pleasure you've been wanting since you woke up. It snaps the rope holding your body together.

``G-good girl. Fuck...``

Mind blank, a whine emits from your bruised lips, thighs quivering around his wrist, holding him in place as your hips unexpectedly jerk forward, your pussy releases the orgasm with a cloudy hue, glistening around the fingers until King gets himself free and brings his face closer to your opening, it seeps the slick out like drool from your maw. King treasures every drip you produce.

Once you've calmed down you realize that it's rare for him to talk during sex but man should he do it often.

With quick work he gets free of his pants, finally feeling relief and getting unrestricted access to what he wants to do. The deep gulps of air you take are quickly forbidden when his fingers rest on your throat, wet and smelling of your sex. The gentle touch almost makes your eyes roll.

He is so impossibly close, resting his whole body on top of you, all the while holding himself up by the elbow as to not crush you.

The tip of his shaft rests between your pussy lips, rubbing your essence all over it while it beats against your clit, heavy and engorged.

Kings one arm clasps the bedding while another flexes against your neck, lightly tensing its grasp. You can only bring your digits to caress his abs built and maintained over the years. The sheen of sweat covers your body.

His hips jerk forward to push in his length carefully, it slides in with ease thanks to your previous orgasm. The stretch gives way to the burning pain at first, until it devolves into entirety. The way you feel around him steals small groans from King, the spikes of pleasure stab at his heart the longer he stills inside.

He can't hold himself back and you don't want him to.

The euphoric movement of his hips slamming against your cunt and his hand wandering closer to your chest, all the while struggling for breath is overwhelming in the most sinful of ways. The sound his body makes as he connects lights up your world which is already rocking with his actions. It's unbearable for you to contain all of it. Your face goes red and his grip is only making it angrier.

Your heavy eyelids close, legs shake, but he dares not to stop, a high pitched whines emit from you, who's grabbing at his hand that's squeezing and rolling your nipple in between his fingers.

He is nowhere near done with you.

How can you keep up with him?

You don't.

The next morning, a bouquet of bright red roses awaited on the bedside table, alongside angry blue and red marks littering your back and breasts, nipples sore and swollen, there's still cum dripping out of you, and a present lying on top of a love card reminding you of the special day.

You can't wait for him to get back so that you can show your gratitude.

[iibonniee]

Self Care

Pairing: Lee Minhyuk x Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral (fem receiving),

Rating: R

Word Count: 5.5k

Summary: After almost what feels like weeks of non-stop studying and taking finals, Y/N finally decides to invest in what everyone calls "self-care”. Little did she know her dearest best friend would show her his idea of self care.

Masterlist

The only thing that sat heavily on her mind was self-care. After weeks of almost back-to-back studying for finals, she knew she’d probably fail from procrastination alone; her body felt great, melting into her pleasantly soft couch. She knew she would need to get up if she wanted to do something of that nature called self-care. Still, the sofa had been calling her name after she blew it off one too many times in favor of her office chair and a dim light that hardly helped her focus on the text from the books.

After the finals, she enjoyed some time with friends, laughing about “how easy that final was.” She, of course, lied straight through her teeth to fit in with her laughing and slightly intoxicated friends. That final was absolute hell, and if she could, she’d totally find the professor’s house and tell them they should quit their jobs simply because what the fuck? Never mind the fact that she blew off all her friends in favor of studying.

Her lips pursed, remembering how her dearest friend Minhyuk had messaged her just hours ago. Instead of responding, she simply swiped the notification away for the fifth time that day. What could she say? Those finals tore through her, and now the simple fact of being around any single person deeply disturbed her. But thinking about practically blowing the man off, even with a schedule more packed than her, made her feel slightly terrible.

Her predicament was this: she was sitting – laying – very comfortably while her phone was peacefully resting on the coffee table just inches from her. She could, in theory, simply reach out for the phone and message him back. Surely, he would only lay into her a bit because “Best friends don’t leave each other on delivered for more than an hour. You know I break the rules just to message you back.”

Scratch that; he totally would lay into her.

The puff she let out was more than audible, and she swore the creaking in her bones was just as loud. Studying with work should be considered a sport. Her phone was cool to the touch, and as she had guessed, the male in question had sent her just about 5 messages for almost every single hour that had passed.

Reading his messages over, she couldn’t help but laugh loudly, thinking about the main vocalist tripping. At how she knew he’d tear the duo a new one just for bringing it up almost every couple minutes, thinking it was the funniest thing to date. The guilt was starting to eat at her for simply ignoring him.

09:16 a.m.: Y/N: wish me luck on my final 🤞 professor choi said it would be difficult as hell (not his exact words, but he was basically saying just that), so if i don’t ace this, blame my procrastination

09:17 a.m.: Minhyuk:  i can just picture your face now, sweating and pulling that super weird and questionable face you do whenever you’re thinking too hard 😂

10:46 a.m.: Minhyuk: i purposely waited more than an hour. how did you do?

11:28 a.m.:  Minhyuk: did you procrastinate so hard you died?

12.33 p.m.: Minhyuk: kihyun tripped down the stairs. me and hyungwon thought it was hilarious. imagine you messaged me back, and you could be laughing about it instead of me and him. you should be jealous of hyungwon

2:40 p.m. Minhyuk: earth to y/n?? i’m missing you! this is important

5:32 p.m. Minhyuk: i can’t believe procrastination took my best friend like this

The time was just shy of 8. She knew if he checked, he’d see she had read his messages and begin to think of a well-worded 5 paragraph essay as to why what she did was absolutely fucking rude. Deciding that rather than dealing with the bullet, she would try to avoid it.

7:56 p.m.: Y/N: don’t hate me…

7:56 p.m.: Y/N: i may have gotten dragged out with some friends from class to get “celebratory drinks”. believe me, i was going to message you back 🤗

She watched the message go from “delivered” to read in seconds. Her heart felt like a drum against her ribcage. Her eyes were glued to the screen like fresh glue. Like a child ready for her parents scolding, she waited with bated breath for his reply. The silence that stretched on was suffocating, the seconds ticking by like hours in her mind. She mentally composed a hundred excuses, each more dramatic and apologetic than the last, the nails of her free hand digging into the palm as she braced herself for the inevitable.

7:58 p.m.:  Minhyuk: dragged out, huh? guess those drinks were more important than letting me know you’re alive

The words stung like salt on an open wound, a sharp contrast to his usual playful banter. She could practically hear his voice in the text, tinged with annoyance that didn’t quite mask the concern behind it. She cursed at her screen, mentally chastising herself for her thoughtlessness.

7:58 p.m.:  Y/N: i’m so sorry minhyuk, today was a mess and i lost track of time. i didn’t mean to worry you or be rude

Her fingers hesitated over the send button before she finally pressed it, releasing a sigh that did nothing to ease the tension from her shoulders. She dared not to look away from the conversation, the panic turning her stomach into knots.

The dots appeared and disappeared, a sure sign he was typing, re-typing, his response proving he too was unsure of what to say. The wait was agonizing, her anticipation painted with shades of regret and anxiety. It was the kind of suspense that could only come from caring too much about someone’s opinion, about someone’s feelings.

8:00 p.m.:  Minhyuk: you’re lucky i care enough not to stay mad at you. don’t do this again y/n, it’s not just me, okay? we all worry.

Reading his response, a mixture of relief and guilt washed over her. Relief that he hadn’t completely unleashed his frustration on her, and guilt that she had caused him to worry in the first place. The knots in her stomach began to loosen, albeit slowly, as a crescent of gratitude rose amid the chaos of her emotions. 

8:00 p.m.:  Minhyuk: how did you do on the test? 

8:01 p.m.: Y/N: i think i passed? if i don’t pass, i’m going to my professor’s house and bitching him out. but since it’s all done now, i’ve been thinking about giving myself some self-care

8:02 p.m.: Minhyuk: like all those stupid videos you see?

Her thumbs hovered over the phone’s keyboard, the blue light casting ghostly shadows on her fingers. She drew in a breath as if about to dive underwater, aware that admitting her struggles to Minhyuk felt akin to exposing a vulnerability she often kept veiled.

8:03 p.m.:  Y/N: yeah, something like that. finals really did a number on me. my shoulders are up to my ears in tension. could really use one of those self-care days.

She sent the message out into the void between them, a digital confession that carried more weight than the characters it was comprised of. Her phone was a lifeline, a barrier, and a bridge all at once. Her screen flickered with the indication that he was replying, and she felt her pulse escalate, the anticipation tantamount to the moments before a storm broke.

The typing indicator blinked. Then.. stopped. She couldn’t help the frown that crept onto her lips. Were her problems too trivial? Too human for the idol facade he often wore?

But then, almost teasingly, the typing resumed. Her heart danced to the rhythm of his unseen keystrokes, a delicate waltz of hope and anxiety.

8:05 p.m.:  Minhyuk: i could come over? offer you some... exclusive minhyuk-brand self-care tips.

The message was light-hearted, a classic Minhyuk approach to her distress – humor laced with the promise of comfort. She couldn’t help the small smile that broke through, even as a blush warmed her cheeks.

8:06 p.m.:  Y/N: oh? and what kind of self-care tips are those?

The faintest feeling of daring bubbled inside her. To flirt with the boundaries of their rapport seemed reckless, yet the adrenaline of it was intoxicating. Minhyuk’s reply didn’t come instantly this time, and the silence stretched just enough to fan the flames of her curiosity.

8:09 p.m.:  Minhyuk: i could make you cum. i heard that’s a great way of relaxing and relieving tension.

The heat spread across her face way too fast for her liking. She knew Minhyuk. The man was often brutal when speaking honestly. Still, behind that brutal honesty, he was often gentle, a softness that he reserved for the quieter moments between them. It was that duality that had always drawn her to him, that fine line he walked between audacity and tenderness.

Y/N stared at the screen, the words blurring as her heart hammered. Was he serious? There was no way to gauge the sincerity of his tone through text. Still, a part of her, perhaps secretly hoping for a bit more than friendly banter, conjured up a thrilling image of him following through. In front of her, eating her out to relieve her stress. She swore he had talked about it before. Something about how Hoseok helped someone out and not in a work-friendly manner. Had he meant the same way?

She was about to type a response, her fingertips shaky with a mix of nerves and anticipation, when a new message popped up.

8:12 p.m.:  Minhyuk: unless... you’re already thinking about it?

The playful tease was evident even through the digital text, and she stiffened, caught utterly off guard. Yes, she was thinking about it, but the fact that he could call her out so accurately sent a jolt through her. Her pulse raced, the mixture of embarrassment and excitement causing a delicious tension within her. She found herself at a crossroads of confusion and desire. Trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation, she decided to play along, if only to see where this would go.

8:12 p.m.:  Y/N: idk, is that what you recommend to all your friends when they’re stressed? 

Her response was nonchalant, an attempt to mirror his teasing while her mind whirred with the possibilities. She waited, breath held, for his answer, utterly unaware of how this conversation might change everything.

8:12 p.m.:  Minhyuk: no, just you. 

She could hear his voice in that message — low, teasing, and devastatingly focused — as if he were beside her. The notion sent a tremble through her body. Her phone seemed to burn her fingertips, a virtual representation of the invisible thread tugging them closer with each message sent.

8:13 p.m.:  Y/N: and what if i were thinking about it? what then?

Her heart was pounding a staccato rhythm against her ribs. Each beat seemed to echo his name. She was playing with fire, and a part of her didn’t want to stop — couldn’t stop — even if she tried.

A pause lingered, almost too long, before his following message arrived, and it had her breath hitching in anticipation.

8:15 p.m.:  Minhyuk: then i’d say we’re thinking about the same thing. i could be over in 10.

Her breath caught in a sharp inhale, a swirl of heat and butterflies erupting in her stomach. She’d known Minhyuk was bold, but this was uncharted territory. Each message was a step further into the unknown, and she wasn’t sure if her racing heart wanted him to slow down or to bridge the distance even faster.

8:16 p.m.:  Y/N: you wouldn’t dare.

It was a challenge, the kind of throwdown she’d seen in the charged space between two people in movies, the type that always led to someone’s back pressed against a wall, breaths mingling, gazes locked. She was playing her part in their little game, the script being written in real-time.

8:17 p.m.:  Minhyuk: try me.

And he added a winking emoji for good measure. A bold, ridiculous little symbol that shouldn’t have the power to increase her heart rate, but it did. It really did.

8:18 p.m.:  Y/N: …

She was lost for words; the ellipsis was all she could manage as a flurry of thoughts bombarded her, each of them an image of possibility. Her body was alight with unsaid promises, every nerve ending buzzing as if the warmth of his tease had a tangible touch. The air felt charged around her, heavy with the electric potential of ‘what if.’ Was she ready for the ‘what if’ to become reality? The next few moments would tell.

8:18 p.m.:  Minhyuk: say the word, and i’m there. i could have you cumming so hard you forget about that final. with my fingers, mouth, and cock. 

The audacity of his words sent a jolt through her, a storm of heat and shivers cascading down her spine. She read his message once, twice, thrice, each word emblazoning itself into her mind, conjuring images more vivid than any fantasy she’d dared to entertain.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, a dozen responses racing her mind. She knew Minhyuk, his sweet smirks, and the playful glint in his eye. But this was a new dance, where he was both the lead and the tempo, and she was swept up in the rhythm.

8:19 p.m.:  Y/N: you talk a big game. what makes you think i’d want that?

It was a deflection, a coy invitation for him to prove his point, and part of her thrilled at the boldness of her own words. All around her, the room hummed with the tension of a prelude to something momentous.

Minhyuk replied quickly, stoking the embers that danced beneath her skin.

8:19 p.m.:  Minhyuk: because i know you. because i’ve seen that look in your eyes that screams yes even when your lips are biting back the words. i’ve known you for years, y/n. i know what makes you tick. i just don’t say anything.

Her heart was soaring and plummeting all at once, caught between nerves and an exhilarating sense of inevitability. Minhyuk was as deft with his textual innuendos as he was with every other facet of their relationship — constantly pushing, always knowing just how far to go.

8:20 p.m.:  Y/N: if i say the word... do you promise to keep yours?

She was still questioning, still testing the waters, but the thrum of excitement in her blood was yielding to the magnetic pull of his promise. There was a potent sense of surrender threading through her words, a submission to the torrential desire she could no longer deny.

8:21 p.m.:  Minhyuk: i keep my promises. always. especially to you.

That was all it took. She sat, heart racing, a cacophony of longing ringing loud in the quiet of her room, and she realized she wanted the reality far more than the fantasy.

8:22 p.m.:  Y/N: come over.

Sent. 

The word lingered on the screen, heavy with implication and as momentous as crossing a threshold. As the message —come over — fades from the screen, Minhyuk feels a surge of exhilaration pulse through his veins. His heart drummed a rapid beat, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. There’s a smirk tugging at his lips, one of anticipation and victory mixed with a raw desire he’s only ever shown to her. 

8:23 p.m.:  Minhyuk: i’ll be there in 10. get ready for me.

Sent. 

The words, simple yet laden with his intent, dart through the digital space — a promise swiftly turning into a plan of action. He grabs his keys, phone, and composure — though the last seems fragile, like a thin veneer over the tumultuous wave of want coursing through him.

Meanwhile, her palms press into the plush fabric of the couch, her breaths coming out in short, deliberate gusts. Her eyes dart to the door and then to the phone. A carousel of feelings spins within her: excitement, trepidation, desire, doubt. One moment, she feels a giddy joy bubble up from her stomach; the next, nail-biting anxiety clenches at her throat.

She gets up, paces, and sits back down. The room feels smaller, as if the walls are inching closer with each second that ticks by. Cracks of light from the fading evening stretch across the floor, painting elongated shadows that mimic her tangled emotions.

8:25 p.m.:  Y/N: okay, i’ll be waiting.

A part of her wonders at her own audacity. How easy it was to type those words, yet how profound the impact. It’s a seismic shift, an invisible line crossed, the soft click of a door unlocking — whatever it may be, their relationship won’t be the same after tonight.

She lights a candle, the flicker of the flame casting a warm glow in the living room. It’s a vain attempt at nonchalance as if to say, ‘I do this all the time,’ when, in fact, her heart’s racing like it’s her first-ever date. Her mind plays and replays the possible scenarios, each as vivid and nerve-wracking as the last. Then, she blows it out. Her mind going a mile a minute. This was probably just going to be a quick fuck session. Nothing more.

And then, as the minute hand inches obligingly towards the half-hour mark, every nerve in her body seems to stand on edge, her senses heightened to the rapid-fire staccato of her heartbeat. It is equally the most terrifying and exciting countdown.

Three heavy and loud knocks greet her once-silent apartment. The knocks seem to reverberate throughout her apartment, a thunderous declaration that shatters the quiet anticipation. She freezes, every muscle coiled with an energy akin to the electric charge of a brewing storm. The moment she’s been swinging between dread and desire is now palpable, as imminent as the next breath.

Time seems to stretch these seconds to minutes as she gathers the courage to pad across the hardwood floor. She feels every fiber in the woven rug underfoot, every whisper of the evening air that sneaks through the cracks of her haven. With each step, her heart is both a traitor and an ally, pounding against her chest in nervous fervor.

Her hand hesitates briefly at the door handle, a transitional talisman that stands between what was and what could be. The cool metal sears her skin, starkly contrasting the warmth flooding her veins. She’s vulnerable, exposed, and yet the thrill of it sets her alight — a moth to flame, a siren to the sea.

Swallowing the tightly bunched nerves in her throat, she flings the door open with a quiet determination. It’s her choice, her call to make.

And there he is — Minhyuk — looking every bit the tempest she feels inside. His eyes are hooded, heavy with a desire that mirrors her own, and his lips part slightly, as if every breath he takes is borrowed, meant for this moment alone. His hair is a charming disarray, a testament to the fingers that have raked through it in impatience, want, or both.

His gaze latches onto hers immediately, an invisible yet unbreakable link snapping taut between them. He wastes no time and no words. As if pulled by an irresistible force, he steps into her apartment, closing the space that had stretched unfathomable just seconds ago. With a surety that only Minhyuk possesses, he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close.

Everything in her screams to melt into him, into the kiss they’ve both implicitly promised each other through screens and silent longings. Her lips part in an intake of breath, a silent invitation.

He meets her halfway, and the kiss is a collision of every unsaid confession, every smoldering glance, every midnight thought. It consumes her, a fire that she’s stoked with every heart race, every blush, every time she dared to look at him and see more than just her best friend.

He nudges her towards the couch, his fingers gripping her hip as she sinks down onto its cushions. Her eyes lock onto his, desire smoldering beneath her gaze. He moves in closer, tracing the curve of her neck with his lips as he inches lower, his hand sliding up her thigh. She gasps as his fingers brush against her damp underwear, her body arching into his touch. His lips find hers, their kiss deepening as his hand works its way inside her panties, stroking her already swollen core. 

“Fuck,” he whispers against her mouth, “you’re wet.”

She moans softly, unable to tear her eyes away from his as he slowly pulls down her panties and tosses them aside. He kneels between her legs, running his tongue along the length of her slit before plunging it deep inside her tight heat. She bucks against him, crying out in pleasure as he thrusts his tongue in and out of her hungrily. His fingers find their way back to her clit, circling it expertly as he sucks harder on her folds. 

She’s never felt anything like this before; he knows exactly how to drive her wild with need. And how he looks at her — like she’s something precious yet completely surrendered — makes her heart race and throb between her legs. 

“Soon, you’ll be forgetting all about that final while I make you cum over and over again. How do you want to cum the first time? With my mouth or fingers?”

The sound of his voice sends chills down her spine. She can feel his hot breath on her pussy, his tongue dancing over her sensitive nub. Her eyes roll back in pleasure as she responds, “Fingers, please.”

With a smirk, he removes his fingers from her dripping pussy and starts massaging her clit, using his thumb to apply pressure and flick it gently. She squirms and whimpers, desperate for release.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, a voice full of taunting innocence.

“No! Please don’t stop,” she pleads, her eyes squeezed shut.

Satisfied, he continues his assault on her clit until she’s writhing in ecstasy, begging him to finger her. He smiles wickedly, knowing he has complete control over her.

“Please finger me. I need it so bad,” she begs, her voice hoarse with need.

He chuckles darkly and leans in close to whisper in her ear. “Of course, princess. Whatever you want.”

With that, he slides two fingers inside her tight pussy, curling them up to hit her G-spot just right. She cries out in pleasure, her body shaking as he pumps his fingers in and out of her. He adds a third finger, stretching her wider and hitting deeper. She moans louder, her hips bucking wildly against his hand.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” he teases, his voice low and gravelly.

She nods frantically, unable to speak through the waves of pleasure washing over her. He grins and increases the pace of his fingers, rubbing her clit with his thumb. She cries out again, her entire body tightening as she reaches the brink of orgasm.

“Cum for me, baby girl,” he growls, his voice filled with possessiveness.

She gives in, surrendering to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body. She comes hard, screaming his name as her entire body shakes and trembles. He keeps pumping his fingers, letting her ride her orgasm out.

She gives in, surrendering to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body. She comes hard, screaming his name as her entire body shakes and trembles. He keeps pumping his fingers, letting her ride her orgasm out. Her breathing was heavy as she tried to catch her breath. He allowed it only for a moment, letting out a gasp as his mouth replaced his fingers.

“I told you I’m going to make you cum with my mouth. I need to taste you.”

Her body quivered and shook as his tongue danced along her clit. Her hands tangled themselves in his hair, holding him closer. His tongue was relentless. He sucked hard, licking faster, flicking her clit harder and harder. She could feel herself getting closer and closer to another orgasm. His fingers slid inside her once more, and he began to pump them in and out of her, his tongue still working overtime on her clit. The sensation was too much. She screamed out his name and came hard once again.

With a savage growl, he buried his face between her trembling thighs, his tongue lashing out at her swollen clit with unrestrained hunger, wanting to get another orgasm from her. She gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair as he devoured her pussy like a starving man. His tongue danced and flicked, tracing wet circles around her sensitive bud before sucking it hard into his mouth. 

“Fuck, yes,” she moaned, grinding her hips against his face. “Don’t stop, don’t ever stop.” 

He growled again, the vibrations sending shockwaves through her body as he doubled down on his assault. His fingers slid inside her, pumping in and out with an almost brutal intensity. She could feel herself tightening around him, her orgasm building like wildfire. 

“You like that, baby?” he rasped, his voice thick with lust. “You like it when I fuck you like this?” 

“God, yes,” she whimpered, her fingers digging into his scalp. “More, give me more.” 

He chuckled darkly, his tongue flicking faster, his fingers pumping harder. She could feel her legs shaking, her body trembling with the effort of holding on. And then, with a final flick of his tongue, she shattered. 

“Oh, fuck!” she screamed, her back arching off the couch as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. He didn’t stop, didn’t let up, his tongue and fingers working her through her orgasm until she was boneless and spent.

“Is that so?” he replied, his voice husky with desire, his brow raised in surprise, a smirk pulling at his lips.

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “I want you to take me,” she said, her voice low and seductive. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

Without another word, he rose from the couch and pulled her towards him. Their lips crashed together in a feverish kiss as he guided her towards the bedroom. They stumbled through the door, their hands frantically tugging at each other’s clothes until they were both naked and pressed against the bed.

He pushed her onto the soft mattress, his body covering hers as he claimed her lips once more. She moaned into his mouth as he trailed kisses down her neck, his hands roaming over her body with possessive hunger.

“You asked for it,” he said, his voice barely audible. He growled, his hands gripping her hips as he positioned himself at her entrance. 

And then he was inside her, filling her completely. She gasped, her nails digging into his back as he began to move. He fucked her hard and fast, his hips slamming into hers with bruising force. She could feel every inch of him, his cock hitting her in just the right spot. 

“Harder,” she begged, her voice breathless. “Fuck me harder. I want you to keep your promise to me.”

He growled, his fingers tightening on her hips as he complied. She could feel herself building again, her orgasm coiling in her belly like a spring. And then, with one final thrust, he sent her over the edge. 

“Oh, God!” she screamed, her body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. He followed her over, his own orgasm tearing through him like a storm. 

When it was over, they lay tangled in each other’s arms, their bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction. “Fuck. That was good.”

“I aim to please,” he said, his voice smug. He then chuckled, his hand stroking her hair. 

“You’re insufferable,” she said, but her tone was affectionate. Rolling her eyes, a soft chuckle left her lips as she turned to look at him. At that moment, they felt like lovers. Not two best friends who had probably just broken so many rules and fucked. That was perhaps the first rule as best friends. Not fuck. “Min, can I ask you something?”

Silence filled the room—a loaded, thickening quiet pressed against their skin even as they basked in the afterglow of their indiscretion. The sheets clung to their intertwined limbs, a shroud of evidence to the line they had just obliterated.

“Yeah, anything,” he responded, still close enough that his breath danced across her skin.

Her voice, when it next came, was a poignant mix of vulnerability and resolve. “Minhyuk, what does this mean for us? We’ve just tangled everything up, and I can’t... I can’t just pretend we can go back to how things were.”

He felt the weight of her question settle over his chest, heavier than her hand had been moments before. Averting his gaze, he reached for levity in a situation that felt dangerously close to shifting their worlds. “Before we get into that, have you considered what you’re doing this summer? Maybe a trip somewhere could clear our heads.”

The light swat to his chest was a rebuke, her expression earnest and searching. “Seriously, Minhyuk. We can’t just ignore this.”

“You’re right,” he conceded, his voice touched by a seriousness mirrored her own. He sighed, feeling the tension in the air wraps around them tight. “We can’t. So here’s the truth — I don’t have all the answers. But I know that whatever we’ve done or will do, I don’t want to lose you, not as my friend, not as... this. Whatever this is.”

She let the silence fill the room for a beat. Unsure of their next actions. She just fucked her best friend. Her best friend of 5 years. The man who comforted her during her heartbreaks, made her laugh when she was at her lowest, the man who knew her family so well. And she loved it. 

Hell, she loved him.

“We could be friends with benefits.” Throwing the idea out there was just as risky as him leaving her apartment and blocking her number once he realized that this was fucked and should’ve never happened. But she was greedy - far too greedy for her to admit. She would rather pass away than see Minhyuk with someone. And she’s been around him for a long time to see how well he can treat someone he loves. She wants that. “Or not. We can just act like this didn’t happen.”

Her heart was a thunderous echo against her ribs as she waited for his reaction. The words hung there, suspended, a proposal that felt like the edge of a precipice. Fear twisted inside her; images of him pulling away, of a frayed friendship, flashed in her mind.

Minhyuk was silent. His eyes, dark pools of thought, fixed on her face as if trying to read the story written in her expectant gaze. Time crawled, a slow tick in an otherwise frozen room.

And then, finally, he exhaled. “Okay.”

Her breath hitched. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, the corner of his lips tilting into a half-smile of bemused acceptance. “We can try it. Friends with benefits.”

She nearly choked on her relief. But her heart was still a galloping stallion; this was uncharted territory.

“But if we’re doing this,” Minhyuk continued, suddenly practical in the midst of their emotional tempest, “we need rules. We must be on the same page about everything to protect... this.” He gestured between them, the fragile, precious thing that was their friendship.

Her mind raced, and yet, she was hit by the sudden gravity of their decision. “Rules,” she echoed, the word bringing a semblance of safety amidst the chaos of their desire. “Rules. Okay.”

“We respect each other, always,” he started, the serious hue returning to his voice. “And if one of us starts feeling more, we talk about it—no ghosting, no pretending. Nobody can know. This is between us. Someone might complicate things. Lastly, if either of us finds someone…” He paused, his eyes searching her room before landing on her again. Clearing his throat, he continues, “We stop this. We go back to being just best friends.”

She nodded, feeling the weight of their pact settle in. “And we end things if it’s too much.”

They both knew the stakes, the gamble, but in that moment, cloaked in the night’s embrace, it seemed possible to preserve their bond while exploring these new, thrilling dynamics.

“Deal,” she whispered, a pact sealed with a mixture of anxiety and exhilaration.

The new agreement hummed between them, electric and alive. They were venturing into a maelstrom, two friends teetering on the cusp of something more, grasping at rules in a game where the heart was the ultimate prize.

“Deal.”

[viktorxsheep]

HI! i apologize for any mistakes, i dont send requests to often :,)

I was wondering if you could do the Star Rail boys and Fem! Reader with a pucca dynamic? Like she's over here tracking them down just to give them kisses and stuff, and gets jealous pretty easily. If all of them are too much just Blade and/dan heng! :))

hi!! thanks for the request! i loved this show so much when i was younger haha. thankyou for allowing me to indulge in my dan heng and welt yang love teehee. (no mistakes by the way!! :>>)

dan heng, welt yang, blade, jing yuan, gepard x fem! reader

___

dan heng

Dan Heng liked his peace. He liked his days in his room, looking through the archives as he sorted through every single data that he had jotted down in his notebook.

Ofcourse, he also knew to always expect you. Disrupting the perfect peace that he made for himself. He always acted annoyed and a little bit grumpy whenever you bursted through his doors, but he genuinely did like it. He loved your kisses, he could drown in them and he would reincarnate just so he could open his arms and allow you to ram into them.

As your relationship grew, he started getting a bit more flustered at your strong declarations of love. Your jealousy, your passion- he’s never experienced a love this strong and this good. All he wants to do now is to return it tenfold…r he’s still a little bit shy.

So when he can finally rest beside you, you sleeping in his arms, he can kiss your forehead as he hums a soft tune from his past. He didn’t expect that he’d love you this much, but now he even gets a little grumpy if you don’t kiss him all over the face in the morning, or go and tightly hug him. He still has nightmares..but now, he can atleast envision your body dashing to his to kiss him when he wakes up instead of the fear and the hurt.

blade

Blade was a little different from Dan Heng. Where Dan Heng was shy and a little bit unsure on how to repay your affections, Blade embraced this wholeheartedly. He relished in the affection, it made him happy.

But a small pet of him wondered if this was alright, if he even deserved this. From all of his past actions, the mistakes he would most definitely make in the future- did he deserve you running to him and toppling him over for kisses? He doesn’t want to dwell, instead, he hopes you let him love you the same way.

If ever you are jealous, he will sit you on his lap (albeit a little awkwardly at first) and he will comfort your insecurities. Are his comforting words not exactly very comforting? sure, but he tries. “You must be sick if you believe I do not love you, don’t be silly.”

Although he really hopes you would stop trying to chase after him during missions for affection, you could get hurt and it’s a bit annoying being teased by Kafka (well, he’d go through it if it’s you at the very least).

welt yang

He is such an old man. Stop giving him heart attacks as you go and kiss him every morning! atleast let him brush his teeth, but he has a feeling you don’t really mind that much. Welt always wakes up earlier than you do, smiling as he watches you excitedly open your eyes to meet his loving embrace.

You may be overexcited and very in love, but Welt can almost beat you in one thing…being the greatest male wife house husband figure you could think of. For every gift, kiss you shower him with, hugs- he surprises you with homemade cooking, clothes that he patched up, flowers and chocolates (that he made himself).

Whenever you get jealous, he can’t help but stifle a small laugh. You were so cute- though he really does not want you to feel insecure. When he knows you’re getting jealous (because he can read you like an open book) he calmly sets you aside and kisses your forehead, assuring you that his love and his heart lies only with you. He couldn’t imagine his life without you in it, so tell him if ever you feel insecure or jealous, he will always listen.

jing yuan

The fearsome leader of the cloud knights believed he was prepared for any sort of challenge. Some fearsome and formidable foes? no matter, stellaron hunters? he will ensure the safety of everyone he can. But who knew he would be so soft and fall victim to-

you. Wonderful, amazing, beautiful you. You in all of your glory, your soft kisses and excited smiles. He could sleep all day just to see you in his dreams, but he loves you even better in real life. He will get flustered (and never show it), and he will always feel bad when he’s forced to ask you to wait outside a meeting room due to the confidential information being shared.

He will ease your worries, he will hold your hand. He wants you to be as safe and as happy as possible, so how could he not indulge you? whatever kisses you’d like the give him, you may. While he can’t always let you bulldoze over to him just to kiss, he will always make it up to you after the moment you two get home.

gepard

You wanted to kill him.

He was sure.

Fearsome, strong, loyal knight captain. That was who he was and how his reputation was…atleast until his underlings saw the red hot blush on his face as you somehow got through the silver mane guards just to kiss and hug him. While he always scolds you (always with a small stutter due to the shock and flusteredness) to not follow him while he went away, he always held you in his arms and let you do as you pleased.

He would walk you back to the safer areas in the administrative district of Belobog, letting you get your fill in of as much hugs and kisses you want before he’s forced to rip himself and his tomato red face away from you.

You being jealous was the most shocking for him. You’re jealous? why? he may be a knight captain, but you were infinitely more beautiful and amazing and- if this line were to continue on, it would fill pages and pages of writing. An entire novel dedicated to every affection you’d offer and how he would call you.