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mead-iocre · 11 months ago

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Our New Normal Pt. 3 | Leah Williamson x Reader

Our New Normal 3/4 (pt.1) (pt.2)

Ding.

The ding of the elevator interrupts your train of thought. The closer you are to her flat, the more nervous you are about the inevitable. You had to tell her tonight. You had to tell Leah that you are transferring to Arsenal. This was the first time you had ever kept something so important from your best friend. The guilt was nearly eating you up inside and while you were nervous about how she might react to your news, you were ready to get rid of the weight baring down on your shoulders during the past couple of weeks.

You are gently pulled out of the elevator by the blonde, one of your hands tightly clasped in hers. You and Leah walk the short journey to her front door, the warm sensor lights illuminating the way as you walk further down the familiar hallway. It’s hard to ignore the way your steps are synchronised, a reminder of how easy and effortless it feels like to be with the Arsenal defender.

But that could all change after tonight.

You begin to tug your hand out of hers so she can grab her house key, but she tightens her grip. Instead, Leah uses the hand that was pulling your luggage to fish out her key from the pocket of her trousers to unlock the front door. Your hand was safely intertwined in hers the entire time. This was normal. While Leah has always been an affectionate person, especially with you, you had a feeling that this was more than that. You had no doubt that the blonde can probably sense the change in your mood– she could read your cues and signals better than anyone. Leah could probably tell that you are pulling away from her, even if she doesn’t know the reason why, and she was stopping you from doing so. Literally.

——————————————

You never realised how much you detested coats and jackets, but now you have come to the realisation that they weren’t your favourite thing. First of all, some coats on the market aren’t insulated enough to keep you warm, and it can be very hard to find the perfect coat without spending so much money. Secondly, having a coat on meant that you have no choice but to let go of Leah’s hand in order to slip off your coat. Once your hand left hers, you immediately miss the comfort it provided. Not only were you enjoying the feeling of her hand in hers, but it gave you something to focus on instead of the onslaught of worrying thoughts that have begun to fill your mind. Every insecurity, doubt and uncertainty about how this night was going to go were now on the forefront of your mind.

“Right. I’m gonna order a takeaway” Leah walks over to switch the lights on, and her entire flat comes to life. She drops her keys onto the porcelain trinket tray that you had bought for her and wanders further into her flat. Leah has a tendency to misplace her keys, so you suggested setting up a designated place where she can leave her keys and so far there haven’t been any incidents. Yet.

You follow in behind her, slipping your feet into a pair of shearling slippers that the blonde had bought for you a few months ago. They were terribly overpriced, thanks to the iconic “H” cut-out that proudly boasts the luxury designer, but you couldn’t refuse her very expensive gift when she had excitedly pulled out a matching pair for herself.

Walking straight into the lounge, you spot the merinos wool throw blanket that you had bought and left at her house. It was also a very expensive purchase, and not one you would usually make, but you justified it by saying it’s for both of you. You and Leah would nestle underneath the blanket together whenever you were watching trashy tv shows on her sofa. By the corner of the window, you see the Kentia Palm plant, nestled in a ceramic plant pot, that you routinely nag the blonde to mist regularly. The bookshelf across the sofa proudly displays frame photographs of the most special people in Leah’s life. Some with family, some with friends, and some with you. There were pictures from your early years at England camp, playing for the youth teams. There were also photos outside of football, photos that never made the instagram feed and were only just for your eyes.

There are remnants of you all over her home.

After delivering your luggage to the guest room, she walks over to you and cups your rosy cheeks in her hands. “Put something comfy on and warm up, baby.”

It wasn’t long before you and Leah were seated at the table, a selection of all of your favourite Chinese takeaway dishes spread out in front of you. The aroma of sweet and sour chicken wafted through the air, mingling with the savoury scent of beef and broccoli; crispy spring rolls beckoned from their perch on a porcelain plate, making it almost difficult to choose which dish to taste first. Without further hesitation, the both of you began to tuck in. Together, you both sampled each dish with gusto, comfortable conversation and shared laughter filled the usual silence of the defender’s flat. Leah animatedly told a story about the time Kyra pranked a few of the girls on the team by hiding their boots and shin pads around the training grounds and sending them on a wild goose chase to find them.

As the meal drew to a close, you both leaned back in your chairs, sated and content. Now was probably the right time to tell the Arsenal defender about your transfer. You put your chopsticks down and turn your gaze at your best friend.

“Leah, can we talk…”

“Sounds serious.” Leah puts her own pair of chopsticks down on top of her napkin before she pushes her plate to the side. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I-it’s nothing bad. At least I hope not for you”

Leah leans forward in her seat. There’s a small smile on her face, but her eyebrows are furrowed slightly in concern. “You’re making me nervous, baby”

“I wanted to talk to you about my transfer…”

“Look, y/n.”

A brief pause of silence.

Leah takes a deep breath before continuing “I want you to know that I wouldn’t be mad if you signed for Chelsea. Honestly. It is still fucking weird to think about it though and I’m seriously considering knocking you on the head a few times– but if they had put down an offer and you want it then go for it.”

“That’s great, Lee, but-“

The blonde runs a hand through her hair in frustration, a habit she must’ve picked up from being around you so often. “I still can’t believe Arsenal didn’t put down an offer– I mean, you’re one of the best midfielders in the world right now. Seriously.”

“Lee–“

“Although it’s a bit weird that you would still consider playing for my rival club, like among all the wsl teams out there, you chose the club that happened to my club’s direct rival– wait does that mean we’re rivals now–”

“LEAH”

“WHAT”

“I signed for Arsenal”

One breath in, one breath out.

Two beats of your pulse.

“…fuck off.”

“Leah!”

“Don’t fucking joke about that” You wince at the sound of her chair scrapping against the hardwood floors as the blonde abruptly stands up. Her hands on her hips, face flushed red in anger. Annoyance even, perhaps. Her lips are pressed together firmly and her eyebrows are still furrowed.

“I’m not fucking joking. I signed for Arsenal”

Silence.

Two more beats of your pulse.

“Y/N listen to me– my heart is up to my fucking ears right now, and I swear to bloody god if you are saying all this just to have a laugh–“

The blonde in front of you begins to gesture wildly, hands pointing here and there but her posture remains stiff. A flicker of uncertainty danced across her gaze, mirroring the storm of thoughts that were probably racing through her mind at this very moment. The slight tremor in her hands betrayed the internal struggle as she sought to manage the anxiety probably bubbling within.

Every so often, Leah’s lips parted as if she wanted to speak, but it was as if the words remained trapped in the hesitancy of the moment. A subtle, rhythmic tapping of her foot on the floor betrayed the restlessness, a visual of the nervous anticipation coursing through her veins. You hear an audible hitch in her next inhale

and then silence again.

You give into the silence for a moment. Your own hands are trembling and your heart was pounding but you want to give the girl in front of you the time to process it. It takes a lot to leave Leah Williamson speechless, and if it were a different situation you would’ve teased and bragged about how you had been the one to leave her completely speechless.

But now was not the time to joke around.

After another moment of silence, you could not take it anymore. The quiet was almost suffocating at this point, when it reality it had probably only been a few minutes.

You expected the blonde to be happy– to be jumping for joy over the fact that the two of you will now be teammates for country and club. However, the lack of reaction was making you second guess your decision to sign for her club.

“Leah…” You start, but then stop yourself. You hate seeing the uncertainty in her gaze. You hate the way the defender in front of you is hunched over slightly, almost as if she was trying to make herself smaller, seeking a shield against the external world that seemed to loom large around her.

You take a deep breath and start again. “I’m not lying. I did sign for Arsenal. I wouldn’t lie to you–“

You wanted to explain things to her but she cut you off.

“You made me think you were leaving me” Hearing those words leave her lips nearly broke you.

Your chair rattles at the sheer force of how quickly you stood up to level her stare. “I– I know, Lee, but I wanted to surprise you”

“For weeks I was stressin’ about where you would be moving to. I was trying to calculate how far Lyon was from London– I was fucking looking up plane tickets, trying to figure out when I can come visit–“

You wanted to run. Like you normally would. You hated seeing the look on your best friend’s face. A face so familiar that it became a source of solace and comfort during your time of need. Now, however, the face looking back at you was filled with disappointment and distrust.

If it were some other time, you would be out of that room. You hated confrontation. You hated the feeling of being forced to say what you feel on the spot because the thought of accidentally blurting something horrible out in the heat of the moment terrified you.

But you weren’t going to run this time. Not when Leah was being vulnerable and honest. Your usually strong and capable defender looked like she was the one that needed defending right now. But how were you going to do that when the one thing that was hurting her right now

…was you.

“I’m sorry, Leah. I really am” Your hands were trembling. You felt like you were losing her, and yet she was never even yours to begin with.

You close your eyes, taking a moment to will your heart to stop pounding so hard. “I would’ve told you earlier– honestly. But then I started to have second thoughts– I mean I started to worry about–“

The next words were stuck in your throat. Tears had started to well up in your eyes, and the soon enough your vision of the blonde in front of you was drowned out by tears. You hastily start wiping away your tears when you feel another hand reach out to grab hold of your arm. A warm thumb gently glides across the span of your cheeks, brushing your tears away lightly.

“Don’t cry. I can’t stay mad at you if you cry” It was said in a hushed murmur. Like she had just divulged in a secret, in a confession.

You push her arm away slightly. She was standing a little too close. Close enough that you could fall into her and she would catch you. But you wanted to explain things before you gave into the urge to run away like always.

“I really didn’t mean to lie to you. I swear, Leah. I was worried that you wouldn’t like me being around you to much–”

An eyebrow raise from the blonde was her only reply. Leah had expressed to you multiple times that she wanted you at Arsenal in passing over the years, but you couldn’t help the small nagging doubt that clouded your mind once in a while.

Leah chooses to remain silent for the most part. In the many years that she has known you, this is the first time she has ever seen you lay all your cards out right in front of her, so there was no chance in bloody hell that she was going to interrupt you. Leah often joked that you were the master of avoidance. Whenever a difficult conversation loomed on the horizon, you would flee from the confrontation rather than face it head-on. It wasn't that you were afraid of conflict, but rather that you found it easier to run away than to confront the issue at hand.

She had gotten used to your flighty responses every time you argued, so this change was a surprise to her.

And she was so proud of you.

Her usually reserved and collected girl was pouring her heart out, and she was more than ready to piece it back together again– once you were done speaking, of course.

A lock of your hair falls in front of your face but before you can reach up to push it away, Leah does it for you. Her touch was feather-light as she tucks your hair behind your ear. This was normal. It was a simple act, one she had done countless of times before, but each time it felt like a reaffirmation of the unspoken intimacy between the two of you.

You grab her hand before it can fall back to her side. You need something to steady you as your world falls on its axis, and Leah was your anchor. She gives your hand a squeeze, taking a step closer to you.

Gone were the piercing blues earlier, instead they were now replaced by a softer, warmer look. She gives your hand another squeeze when she notices your slightly dazed expression. “Continue, baby”

The familiar nickname gives you butterflies. Like it always does.

“I was beginning to second guess my transfer because I was scared that us being around each other so much would ruin our friendship. Y-you know that saying that absence makes the heart grow fonder? Yeah, well what happens if we see each other too much? I-if there is no absence–”

“Baby, what the fuck are you on about”

“That saying that–“

“I don’t give a fuck what a saying says” She air-quotes with her fingers. “I want you with me all the time.”

The defender squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, trying to suppress the urge to simultaneously yell out in frustration and laugh. Not at you, but at your absurd idea that she would grow tired of you. She finds that idea laughable.

“Y/N, listen to me. I was upset because I wanted to be there for you. We did almost everything together. Remember when we signed our first professional contract, we did it together–”

You cut her off. “Actually you signed yours first. Mine was a couple days after because the mens team had a match at Old Trafford”

The familiar, unimpressed look the blonde gave you had you fighting to a grin. Maybe everything will be alright.

“I saw the comments when you announced your transfer. I saw the fucking nasty ones too, about how you were selfish for leaving United, and I wanted to be there for you every step of the way. To protect you from all that”

“You can’t protect me from everything, Lee”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t fucking try”

Leah takes a deep breath before focusing her gaze at you again. Her voice was quieter this time, timid. “I just feel like you’ve essentially shunned me from such a big step of your career. Like this is your first club transfer and I wasn’t a part of it in any way– not that I think I deserve to be because it’s your career but like– fuck we usually did everything together ya know..”

“I know I probably sound so selfish right now, y/n, but I felt like you didn’t want me to be a part of that. I felt like you were pulling away from me”

You frown. You were so focused of keeping this entire transfer surprise away from Leah that you did not expect her to feel left out in the process. Maybe you should’ve been more attentive. Whenever Leah would ask about your transfer, you would brush off her questions and quickly change the subject. You didn’t think that by doing so, you were making her feel like you didn’t care about her feelings.

“I’m sorry, Leah. I didn’t think that by keeping this away from you, I was pushing you away. I was just so focused on surprising you…”

“S’alright. I do feel like I’m overstepping–“

“No. You have every right to feel this way, Lee. You’re a huge part of my life and you’re right– we do everything together”

“Yeah. Well it seems like we’ll be doing a lot of things together from now on” Her tone was now light, and playful.

Leah finally breaks the looming tension with a smile, but not just any smile. She’s smiling the kind of smile that she only reserves just for you. With her lips curved in a tender crescent, her smile held the promise of a thousand intimate secrets, like the ones shared and whispered at 2 am in the morning during England camp. Her blue eyes, now alight with affection and warmth, drawing you into their depths like a moth to a flame. It wasn't just the physicality of her smile that captivated you—it was the way it spoke volumes without uttering a single word. It was the silent reassurance it offered whenever she knew you needed it.

In Leah’s smile, you found solace, understanding, and an unwavering sense of home.

“We’ll see how we get on when we’re together 24/7” You mutter, still not fully convinced.

“Baby, listen to me” The blonde cups your face in her hands, lightly stroking your cheek with her thumb. “Quit being such a worrywart. Yeah, we’ll probably get on each other’s nerves. That’s normal. I’ll do things that’ll piss you off, you’ll tell me to go ‘fuck myself’ and vice versa. We’ll still disagree on things– like how you’ll probably nag me about forgetting my boots at training, or how I’ll have to remind you about refilling the petrol in the car because I have an irrational fear of you being stranded somewhere with no petrol”

Leah waits a moment, wanting you to process what she just said. Her gaze firm, unwavering. When she notices your eyes start to water again, she knows it’s not because you’re sad or angry. She knows you’re just overwhelmed. She pulls you close, and tucks your face into the crook of her neck. With your tears wet against her neck and your arms hanging limp by your side, she can almost feel your exhaustion– both from the events of day and the emotional rollercoaster you both had to endure today.

You welcome her embrace, wanting to bury yourself in the safety and comfort of her arms. She faintly smells like her favourite perfume, delicate notes of jasmine and cedar wood still cling to a warm spot on the side of her neck. You nestle further into her.

"That's normal, baby. Otherwise relationships and friendships would be far too easy, too boring. But we will always work it out in the end. That's how we work. You run, I follow. I get angry, you calm me down. That's us. And that won't change just because we see each other more often. I promise"

After another minute of silence, Leah pulls back slightly. She gently grabs your face out from where it was buried in her neck, so you could meet eye to eye again. She frowns at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks, and uses her thumbs to wipe away the lingering tracks of moisture that streaked down your cheeks.

“Enough tears” She mutters, bringing your face close and resting her forehead against yours. A whispered secret only meant for the two of you. “You’re breaking my heart, baby”

She presses a kiss on your forehead, her lips soft and warm against your skin. “Do you understand what I said earlier? About not being a worrywart?” “m’not a worrywart” The blonde chuckles at the pout that you give her. Your eyes are still glassy, the tip of your nose red, and your hair was a mess, but to her you were the most beautiful girl she had ever seen. Bloody adorable too.

You poke her playfully on her side, giggling when she jerks away and narrows her eyes at you, but her lips are already curled upwards.

“I understand, Lee.”

The next thing you know the blonde has wrapped her arms around you waist, lifting you up and leaving your feet dangling in midair. You squeal and quickly move to wrap your arms around her neck tightly. You knew she wouldn’t drop you. You trusted her more than anyone else in the world. You were just looking for an excuse to hold her close. You laugh by her ear as she spins the both of you around a few times, excited cheers and whoops replace the tense silence earlier.

When she stops spinning and your feet are planted firmly back on the ground again, you both stand there grinning at each other before she breaks the moment.

“You’re now a Gunner.” “Woahhh hang on a minute– ” Placing both of your hands on the blonde’s chest, you push her away lightly. You are also hyperaware of her hands that are still resting on your hips, a thumb hooked onto one of your jean’s belt hoop.

Ignoring the pounding of your heart from Leah spinning you around just a second ago, and now from the mere proximity of her, you narrow your eyes at her.

“Lee, that actually gave me the ick. Don’t call me that” You groan, but your whining falls deaf to her ears.

“Y/L/N is now a bloody fucking Gunner” She practically screams at your face, her smile growing at your less-than-enthusiastic face.

The blonde then abruptly pauses her celebrations “Bet your spurs fan dad wasn’t too happy”

“Oh he was fumin’” Leah laughs loudly at that. She and your dad often butted heads, especially during derby days when the mens team were playing against each other. They would purposely rile each other up and taunts would be thrown throughout the match, but it was all in good fun. Leah didn’t know it, but your dad would secretly root for Arsenal when she was on the pitch. When you called him out for it, he said he was “cheering for Leah, not Arsenal.” Yeah right.

In the moody lighting of Leah’s kitchen, shadows dance across the walls like silent spectres, lucky to have been granted a peek into what seems to be the beginning of a new chapter– not just for you– but for Leah as well.

Leah, who had been by your side for many, many years. Leah who has been your friend, your confidant, and your lifeline.

“…so we’re actually going to be teammates at Arsenal, huh?”

In the corners of this kitchen, shadows linger like forgotten whispers. The soft glow of the pendant ceiling light that you had given her as a house-warming gift hangs above the dining table, casting a gentle hue over the both of you. The flickering flames of the candles that decorate the table dance across the room like fireflies in the night.

“It appears that way”

It’s hard to ignore the way shadows dance across her cheeks, the soft light tracing the contours of her jawline and the arch of her brows. Her eyes, darker than usual in the dimness, glimmer. The faint light catches the sparkle in her eyes, leaving you almost breathless from the intensity of her gaze.

She takes a step closer to you, until you could almost feel her breath as it fans across your face.

“And we’re going to be seeing each other a lot”

She reaches out to take your hand in hers.

“Yep. At training, recovery, meal times, team meetings…”

Your eyes are drawn to the way her tongue peeks out to wet her bottom lip. A nervous habit of hers that you have become familiar with over the years. Her lips part slightly, catching the light in a soft gleam, their natural colour deepened. She cranes her neck down slightly, forcing your gaze away from her lips and back to meet her eyes. If she noticed you staring at her lips, she doesn’t mention it. Instead, with her voice barely above a whisper, she began to speak.

“Move in with me”

For a brief moment, it was just silence as you both take in what this means for the both of you. This kitchen became a place of quiet refuge from the outside world. Here, you told your best friend and the woman who has somehow crammed her way into your heart that your lives will change.

You were not only going to be teammates who only saw each other during national duty camp, but now your lives will be intertwined even further. Here, amidst the flickering shadows and muted glow of her kitchen, time seems to stand still. Tonight, you will bask in these moments of intimacy and secrets that are only meant for the two of you, before the rest of the world found out.

“Yes.”

The much much-awaited chapter was worth it. Hopefully I met all your expectations (if you had any lol). It was a bit angsty-ish but I hope the ending made it worth it considering I was thinking about leaving it on a cliffhanger

but I'm not that evil.

Here's to breaking more glass ceilings. Happy International Women's day, my loves!

-- kisses, butter.

*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission first. Thanks for respecting that!

#woso #woso fanfics #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso community #leah williamson imagine #Our New Normal fic

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obriengf · 11 months ago

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he loves me, he loves me not - w/stiles

it was hard to muster up that much confidence; to intake such a deep breath that you felt dizzy, to ignore the hammering of your heart against the caging of your chest, to fight against the nagging voice in your head chanting 'stop' over and over again. it was hard to find that courage to speak before you think; to take that long leap between two cliffside edges, laying out your cards without the promise of a full sweep, to dip your toes in the cold rage of the ocean waters. the ability to become so incredibly incomposed was something that you wish you could fathom, but it was just so difficult the mere moment you glanced into his eyes. and you knew you were gone. lost. frozen.

"i love you."

it wasn't until you watched his amber eyes grow, bewilderment holding them captive as it was his turn to simply freeze. you didn't even recognise your voice as is slipped involuntarily past your shaky lips - an out of body experience, watching as the scene began to fade to a murky grey to complement the darkened cloud that had suddenly appeared overhead.

stiles gulped. visibly. painfully. conflict danced between the scrunch of his brows and twitch of his jaw - the embodiment of trepidation, eptimome of ambivalence, quintessence of apprehension. he was all of the confusion and indecisiveness that one could muster, and he wore it so well like a badge of honour that he did not want. on the inside, his lengthy fingers would be tearing at his hair and provoking gasps of panic from the look he knew you would be giving him next. the look, that he knew, would break him as much as it was about to break you.

"i-i don't... i'm sorry, but i don't love you. not, not like that."

it was a whisper that could have so easily been carried with the wind. it was quiet, and soft, and shaky as his voice broke. if you weren't standing so goddman close with anticipation, then you would've missed it. it was hard to see those beautiful amber eyes after that - your view disrupted by a glaze of emotion, tears that gathered and clung for dear life until you would allow them to fall. the possibility of his denial was always on the board, but you wished otherwise. you manifested the love he would give you, and how he could have repaired your aching heart, and given you the devotion that you so easily offered him.

words were lost on your tongue as they weighed heavily, preventing any further prying, stopping any further embarrassment.

it was like air as you stepped around him - feet light, floating, the ghost of who you were moving without any thought. you couldn't feel how your heart sunk and screamed for help, how it was drowning. numbness filled the cavity of your empty body, just a shell of a girl who laid everything on the line before losing it all. it was always going to be a gamble.

stiles forgot how to move, himself. as if the second you left his presence, a switch was flicked and his power was drained. what he said was in all truth, but that didn't make it any better; it wouldn't ease his conscious or remove the image of your broken composure from the forefront of his mind. he was convinced that his heart already belonged to another, and even they had no idea just how much of a hold they truly had. would he be able to love more than once? the thoughts were rough as they penetrated his chest, his heart on a skewer, the agony prevalent at the prospect of losing you.

the image of your saddened expression returned and stiles shut his eyes. he could feel you with him, still - seconds had barely passed, everything moving in slow motion. he could smell your perfume as it lingered behind him, and the crack of a stray sob that was choked back. he wanted to reach for you. his hands clenched, momentum building to swing around and just grasp at your wrist, to pull you back to him -

"there you are!" his eyes opened, but there was someone else there. the figure of which he had imagined his heart belonging to, the person he was so surely convinced was for him. but now, he wasn't so sure.

their hold was gentle as they cupped his cheek, asking if something was wrong. stiles shook his head and offered a smile, convincingly enough for the worry to be dropped and forgone. the story that followed from the kind soul before him was lost on deaf ears as he turned around slightly.

he shouldn't have turned. he should not have looked briefly over his shoulder. he should not have let the curiosity get the better of him. stiles should have left it as it was.

because if he did, then he wouldn't have seen you wipe away the tears that you let fall. nor would he have seen the anguish that came with your broken heart.

he wouldn't have wondered, for such a sweet small second, of what would've happened if he just told you that he loved you too.

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien x reader #teen wolf x reader #stiles stilinski imagine #just something small idk i like the pain of angst

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arminsumi · 2 years ago

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WHEW🚴 can i request corrupting canon verse armin??? sure, he’s seen his fellow soldiers go in and out of brothels but that’s so indecent to him!!! :( poor boy doesn’t get the hype of sex and even how good it feels, maybe armin had an occasional wet dream but he’s too focused on his work to know how an orgasm feels or how to pleasure others… UNTIL Y/N PULLS UPPP😶‍🌫️

thank you sm i adore your writing

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

ARMIN x f.reader

Warnings; 🔞 MDNI, smut

Kinks; masturbation, oraljob (reader giving), inxperienced Armin x experienced reader, accidental edging, unprotected sex, creampie, kinda sub!armin and soft dom!reader

A/N; WHEEE this request had me holding my breath 😩💕 ty i hope u like what i did with it mwaaa

It just didn't occur to armin that he could touch and stroke his cock whenever it got stiff. That needy feeling persistently nagged him, but he paid it no mind like a good and disciplined soldier and went back to his duties.

Sometimes he'd look confusedly at his sheets in the morning after waking, wondering why there was a small puddle on his sheets of this creamy white... milk? No, that couldn't be milk, it was the wrong consistency, and it also didn't taste like milk, as he discovered.

It was curious that, when he was around you, his cock got stiff. And stubbornly so. Sometimes while talking to you, he felt it begin to strain against the black fabric of his uniform dress pants.

When you confronted him about it, he stuttered and attempted to explain himself sophisticatedly. "I don't know, it gets like this when I talk to you... when I think about you."

How cute. But you knew more than he did, poor innocent angel that he was. You offered to help him out, and he accepted with a nervous gulp.

"Wh-what are you getting on your knees for? You're gonna hurt your knees and — it's — it's cold!" he looked at you confusedly.

"Oh, Armin, don't worry. I'm gonna teach you how to take care of yourself, m'kay?" you smiled, your thighs pillowing flat as you kneeled before him.

You looked up at him. What a damn good-looking man, so handsome in his uniform with that pendant around his neck.

When he first felt your lips engulf his hard cock, he visibly melted and went straight to heaven. A staggering moan escaped his lips, but he had no idea why he made that sound. "Sorry... that was, um, involuntary?" he apologized through ragged breaths.

When you pulled away and he saw the sloppy mess of saliva left on his cock, he busted right there. Hot, creamy ropes of cum shot all over your tongue and mouth.

His chest heaved up and down, he tried to catch his breath and apologize at the same time.

"I-I don't know why I — how did I — I'm so sorry, it got all over you! Let me get you a towel!" and he scurried off to get you one.

After that life-changing experience, Armin practiced jerking himself off a few times. He was starting to get an idea of how good sex must be, and why his fellow soldiers snuck off to brothels so often.

Sometimes he felt shameful when he got hard, and avoided touching himself.

He had to really distract himself.

So he'd do some pushups and get into a sweaty workout. But he'd be rock hard throughout it, his cock aching and nagging to be touched. You at the forefront of his mind, of course.

In the shower one day, he finally gave into his desires and stroked himself off. Rivulets of piping hot water ran down the contours of his physique, precum spurted out his reddened cockhead. The veins showed up all over.

Each stroke became faster and faster as he tried to chase that familiar feeling to the finish line. He threw his head back and let the water wash over his face, let it run down his neck, his chest, his abs... his tummy flexed at the sensation of fucking his hand.

His cock twitched at the memory of your lips. And his thoughts? All he could think about was how it would feel to have sex with you. How it would feel to actually be between your soft thighs, to have you take his cock.

"Hey! Miiin? You in there?" you called.

He stopped immediately, hissing because he just unknowingly accidentally edged himself.

"Yeah! Just a minute!" he yelled in response.

He hastily turned the water off and wrapped a towel around his waist.

How annoying... his cock made a tent.

His tip nuzzled against the soft fabric, making a tickling sensation. "Shit..." he mumbled.

He had to calm down before presenting himself to you. But he just couldn't. So instead he compromised and folded his hands over that region, so he could press his cock down and look normal.

"What is it?" he innocently poked his head around the corner.

You motioned for him to come out quickly. It was just some small favor that you needed him for — fixing a tiny ODM gear mechanic.

"I should repay you in advance. Wanna take that towel off?" you asked cheekily.

His ears perked up. His heart raced — it went nuts. His cock only just started calming down, now it made a tent again with the towel. Armin flushed bright red and half-heartedly concealed his hard-on, but you pulled his hands away.

"Don't be ashamed, Armin, it's totally normal. I get it." you said.

"Sorry... I-I gues I just... I like you a lot?"

"Mmm... i think it's a bit more than that." you said. "you wanna fuck me, don't you?"

He audibly swallowed and stared at you dumbfoundedly with those baby blue eyes. He nodded and weakly responded with a small and shy "Y-yeah... I do."

"Well, c'mon, I'm right here. Give it to me." you said, hopping on his bed, pulling off your panties from under your uniform skirt.

Armin's eyes went big. His dick was so hard that it hurt.

"Come here." you beckoned him. He didn't hesitate.

Soon you had him kneeling on the bed, staring curiously as your pretty plush thighs parted for the blond soldier. Your dirty smile was so inviting to him, but —

"What... what exactly am I supposed to do?" he asked.

"Fuck me." you giggled.

"But... how?" he blinked.

You giggled louder.

He let out a gasp when you reached for his cock, tugging on it a bit. "Put this," you said, "in here." you spread your legs wider to display your soaked pussy.

That sight made him widen his eyes. He stuttered, "Oh... o-okay, I'll try?"

The poor boy, it took him a while to... ahem... find the hole. And when his tip first pushed past your supple lower lips, he came immediately. He came a lot. It felt like he burst inside you.

"Ooh, you've never felt pussy before, huh?" you teased.

Well, it wasn't only that; he had just edged himself in the shower.

"N-no, I haven't. I-I don't really know what I'm doing. c-can you guide me? Please?" he pleaded cutely.

"Of course, come closer; push it deeper. Mhm, there, like that, keep going. Deeper, deeper — there we go — oh fuck — you're thick."

"Is that a good thing...?"

"Mhm, definitely. Ah, okay, thrust your hips now, just imagine you're doing those ODM gear warmup exercises, Y'know what I'm talking about?"

"Y-yeah. Ah fuck... like this?"

You rolled your eyes back and he groaned. His cock was pulsating. It felt so damn good all over, he felt all this dopamine rushing through his brain.

"Oh — oh — yes — fuck, ohmygod— Armin, keep doing that."

You kept guiding him through the motions until... well, until he figured it out and ended up fucking you dumb.

You didn't expect that. But that's so Armin of him; he's a quick learner, of course after a little sex lesson he'd know exactly what to do, and excel at it. Well, some of it was also just primal instinct.

Your plush pussy engulfed him and squeezed out more of his creamy cum. It got messy, so messy.

His forehead beaded with sweat, dampening his bangs and causing them stick to his skin.

Fully flushed. Breath short — he panted as he easily came a third time inside you.

His thrusts made your eyes roll back, hard, and your pussy clenched around him like it never wanted to let go. Just a few more strokes and you felt yourself gushing and shaking under him.

"Oh my god..." he whimpered at the sight of you cumming for him.

He wanted to make you do that again and again — he got a little addicted to sex with you after that, some days he'd come pawing on your skirt with these pleading, lustful eyes.

#mdni #🐬ocean prince #armin #armin arlert #smut #drabble #aot #snk #armin smut #armin arlert smut #armin x reader #armin x y/n #armin x fem reader #armin arlert x fem reader #aot smut #snk smut #attack on titan x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan smut

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runscold-runsdeep · 9 months ago

Text

Squeeze

Terzo X Omega - Dark Cardiophilia

Warnings/disclaimers: dark cardiophilia, fluff-ish, arguing, near death experience, heart failure, arithmetic heartbeat, demonic magic induced injury, Google Translate Italian for one phrase.

Word count: 800+

///Author’s note

I finally got it written!!! It’s short, and probably undeserving of a banner that took too much effort to make, but I wanted to scrub off the rust and get back into the swing of things. I’m gonna be adding a tag list to my fics from now on, so be sure to let me know if you want on!

🫀⸸⛧⸸🫀

The room was dark, the only light being the flicker of the TV displaying a horror film with Terzo scooted as close to Omega as he could, the mortal being curled up into the demon’s side. Omega enjoyed this closeness though, wrapping an arm around Terzo to keep him cozy. Despite the volume of the TV not being turned down low and Omega not having his ear pressed against Terzo's chest, he could still hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, occasionally quickening in response to the suspenseful moments in the movie.

Unable to resist the urge, Omega slid his hand down to Terzo’s chest, feeling the gentle, rhythmic beat of his heart against his palm, which made Terzo smile and lean closer to him. Despite his best efforts to concentrate on the movie playing in front of them, something about Terzo’s heart in that moment kept drawing his attention away. A sort of curiosity was nagging at him.

Ever since he was summoned and his natural talents for healing and caretaking were discovered, he found himself dedicating most of his spare time in The Ministry’s infirmary whenever he wasn’t with Ghost or alone with Terzo. The infirmary became a sort of sanctuary, a place where he could learn about the intricacies of the human body and its many ailments. However, amidst all the knowledge he was gaining, there were curiosities that lingered in his thoughts, and one of those questions kept pushing itself to the forefront of his mind. What happened if a heart was squeezed?

He tried to push this thought away once more. He would never test such a thing on his partner of all people. He would rather be sent to the ruthless hounds of Hell than to purposely hurt Terzo to answer such a ridiculous question… But at the same time, he also wanted to know how exactly Terzo’s heart specifically would react to such a thing. As he thought over this dilemma, his mind was clouded with conflict. On one hand, he felt a sense of guilt for even considering such a cruel experiment. On the other hand, curiosity gnawed at him, and whatever damage was done to his heart, he could always reverse it.

A purple light in the corner of Terzo's eye caught his attention, forcing his eyes away from the TV to look in the light's direction. Omega's hand was in a grasping position, aglow like ignited hand sanitizer. As Terzo's gaze lingered on the mysterious light, his lips parted to question Omega, but all that escaped was a wince. As Omega’s talons closed, a tightness formed in Terzo’s chest and a sharp pain began to shoot through his jaw and arm. As he felt his heart begin to stumble, his eyes widened, realizing now what Omega was doing. The sound of his pounding heart filled the room, drowning out all other noise as fear and confusion clouded his mind.

“O…Omega..!” Terzo gasped out, clutching at his chest and watching helplessly as Omega's claws tightened their grip around his heart, slowly squeezing it with his demonic powers, “Omega, s—stop!” He leaned against the ghoul, the pain and his failing heart causing his consciousness to wane.

And at once, Omega did, letting go of Terzo's heart and placing his large hand on the mortal's chest, taking in the pain he had inflicted. His own heart started to falter and ache now as he absorbed the injuries that had once belonged to Terzo.

Terzo closed his eyes, tilting his head back as he took in several deep breaths, trying to regulate his heart and his nerves before his eyes shot open, his head jerking to face his partner, glaring at him. “Tu... Tu fottuto idiota!” He exclaimed, “Wh—What the hell came over you?! You almost… you could have fucking killed me!”

Omega, who more than expected this reaction from Terzo, sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Why did you do that?” Terzo pressed his hand to his chest, as if trying to reassure himself that his heart was still beating.

Omega shrugged. “I was curious.”

“…You were curious.” Terzo repeated as he blinked at the demon, as stunned as he was furious. “You tried to kill me just to satisfy some curiosity?!”

“I mean,” Omega exhaled, pausing to choose his his words, “I wasn’t trying to kill you—“

Terzo glared at the ghoul, his white eye bearing a more intense coldness than it normally did, which made Omega cower just slightly.

“…I—I, uh… I wasn’t gonna push you that far. I was gonna stop before you reached that point. And I did.” Omega stammered, averting his gaze from Terzo’s.

Terzo huffed, shaking his head slightly as he curled back up with the demon, snuggling up against him. “Just… warn me next time you try something stupid like that.” He grumbled, “And look, I've missed a part of the movie because of you!” He complained, which forced a small chuckle from Omega as he pulled Terzo close.

“Want me to rewind it?” Omega offered, nuzzling his nose against the top of Terzo’s head.

“No, I’ll figure out what I missed later.” Terzo settled back into Omega’s hold as the ghoul draped his arm around him. Omega turned his attention back to the TV, feeling content at last even though his heart still throbbed and ached with an unsettling rhythm. He hoped that the discomfort would pass soon…

#cardiophilia #cardiophile #cardiophiliac #heartbeat #ghost bc #dark cardiophilia #rcrd's fic #terzomega

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cinnamontoastcrunch-15 · 9 months ago

Text

I posted a oneshot on my ao3 and forgot to post it here haha. Enjoy!

"Right, what has got you moping about?" Mary asks suddenly, snapping Sirius out of his daze.

"Hm? Nothing, nothing, I'm fine," He says back vaguely. He's prepared to go back to staring into space, feeling a bit sorry for himself. Mary, however, isn't one to drop a topic.

"You haven't talked my ear off about anything today, and it's weird, okay? What's going on?"

"I-" He looks at her a little helplessly, but she just arches an eyebrow. Okay, so she isn't going to let this go. "I asked a guy out," He concedes with a sigh.

"Okay, and?"

"And he said no," Sirius adds, after an unimpressed look from Mary.

"Sirius, I love you, and all, but you can't act like this every time someone doesn't want to go out with you. You'll be over it in a day or two, anyway!" Sirius just shakes his head, frustrated. He really doesn't think he will, not this time.

Not with Remus.

Yeah, he's had fleeting crushes, but Remus has been a constant. Somehow, he has stuck around, at the forefront of Sirius' mind, since fifth year. In two years, Sirius fell head over heels in love with his best friend. Well, more realised that he had never done anything but love him.

So of course he's a little mortified that he brought Remus to the top of the astronomy tower and confessed everything, only for him to turn bright red and stutter a quick 'no'. Still, there's something else. Something that's nagging at him, that he's really hoping isn't just sadness induced delusion.

"That's not it," Sirius says, half-truthful. "I don't think he rejected me because he doesn't like me."

"Sirius..." She looks at him carefully, and Sirius knows he needs to elaborate.

"Listen, I'm not stupid. I know what the signs are, and I'm sure there's something there. The amount of times we've almost kissed, I mean..." for a moment, his mind gets lost, having to blink harshly back to reality. "I- I can read him like a book, okay? There's something else going on. Some other reason why he said no. Some stupid, self-deprecating, endearing reason, and I need to know what it is."

Mary just looks at him blankly for a second, before shrugging casually and leaning back against the sofa.

"Ask him, then."

"...yeah. Yeah, I think I will."

Remus is revising.

Well, trying to revise.

No, he's staring at his book.

It's not his fault, though! It's all Sirius'. Sirius and his stupidly perfect face, looking Remus in the eye and telling him that he loves him. Every single braincell in his head is taken up by picturing it again. Honestly, he doesn't know if it's daydreaming or torture. It doesn't really matter in the long run, it still has him pretending to flick through the pages of his History of Magic textbook, sitting up against a tree by the lake.

He's so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn't even hear a person approach. He's blissfully oblivious to the presence of another person until a voice rings out.

"Hey, Moony? Can we talk?" Sirius snaps him out of his daze. Almost immediately, he shoves his book aside, feeling a little like he's been caught thinking about him. Like Sirius can read his thoughts, or something. He cranes his neck slightly to look at the standing Sirius, and almost immediately feels guilty. He's shooting Remus a polite smile, but he can see the hurt that he's trying to cover up.

"Huh? Yeah, yes, we can, yeah," Remus says quickly. Sirius wastes no time in dropping down opposite Remus, eyes meeting his. He isn't really sure what Sirius is going to say-

"How do you feel about me?" He asks suddenly, watching Remus carefully.

"What- what d'you mean?" Remus asks, confused.

"I mean, did you really reject me because you don't have any feelings for me?" Involuntarily, Remus' eyes widen, shock rippling through him. He was hoping that they'd never have to talk about the whole... confession thing again. He's not even sure he can find the words, really. Instead, he focuses all of his energy into keeping his eyes on Sirius', not letting them fall to his mouth. "We never have to talk about this again if you don't, I promise," Sirius says quickly, almost reading Remus' mind. "I just- well, tell me you don't have feelings for me. Say the words."

"I- I don't-"

This is harder than Remus expected.

He fights with himself for a few seconds, before just sighing.

"I don't want to lie to you, Sirius," He says hopelessly, shrugging slightly.

"So you do? You have feelings for me?"

"Yes, Padfoot, I have feelings for you," Remus admits in a rush, feeling his face heat up. Sirius smiles triumphantly and, even now, that grin makes Remus' heart warm. A kindness weaves it's way into Sirius' features, concern etching into his eyes.

"Why'd you say no, Moons? Was it- is it me? Whatever it is, I can work on it-"

"No! No, it's not you, I swear!" Remus says hurriedly, his mind solely on reassuring Sirius. "It's me, it's all me, really."

"Remus," Sirius says, with a tone so earnest that Remus feels compelled to stop and listen. "There's nothing about you that would change the way I feel, okay? Not a thing."

He needs to stop saying everything Remus has wanted to hear. It's just making it all more painful.

"What about the moon?" He says quickly, practically incoherently.

"The moon? What-? Oh, Remus, you know I don't give a toss about your... furry little problem," He says calmly, glancing around for students as he speaks.

"I quite literally turn into a monster every month, Sirius!" He exclaims quietly, desperately. Sirius isn't getting it. "You can't really hold onto any feelings. You might think you do, but you don't. You'll get over it, Sirius. I'm not doing that to either of us when it'll be over in a month, anyway."

For a second, Sirius just stares at him. Christ, he's fucked it up, hasn't he? Sirius isn't even going to want to be his friend anymore-

"I'm in love with you."

Oh.

"I think I've always loved you, really," Sirius adds with a breathy laugh. "And that's not in spite of anything. I don't love just one part of you. I love you. All of you. That's not going to change anytime soon. Especially not since I've known that for well over a year. You can tell me you're not good enough, but I disagree. You're everything, Rem. Merlin, I wish you could see that. I've known you for years. Your lycanthropy hasn't gotten in the way of how I feel; not once."

"Not even-?"

"Not once," Sirius emphasises, reaching out and grabbing Remus' hand. He squeezes it once, offering him a gentle smile. "You aren't going to change my mind. If I'm not changing yours, then I'll keep trying. Now that I know you have feelings for me, I'm not going to stop trying to make you see what I see."

Sirius' other hand reaches out and presses against Remus' cheek. Honestly, Remus is dangerously close to tears. Too much is happening, making his head reel. He's not even sure what compels his next decision.

All he knows is that he's leaning in and kissing Sirius.

He hears a small, muffled noise of surprise escape Sirius, before he's kissing Remus back in earnest. It's... everything Remus could have imagined and more. Sirius' lips are soft against his, the hand that was sitting comfortably on Remus' cheek winds around and lands on the nape of his neck instead. Remus wishes that could be it.

Instead, his brain decides to keep whirring, forcing him to pull away and talk again.

"I'm going to die first. Shorter life span," He blurts out, instantly wincing at himself. Sirius just arches an eyebrow.

"You're not dying tomorrow, right?" Remus shakes his head, confused. "Then it's a bit early to be thinking about dying," He says with a grin. Oh, Merlin, how it makes Remus' stomach swoop. "What else have you got? Hit me with it." Remus finally smiles properly.

"Can't think of anything off the top of my head," He says calmly.

"Okay, great! That means we're going to try, right?" Sirius asks gently, looking at Remus hopefully.

"Yeah. Yeah, we're going to try."

#cuties #i missed canon school wolfstar #wolfstar #sirius black #wolfstar oneshot #marauders #remus lupin #remus x sirius #young marauders #moony x padfoot #atyd marauders #marauders oneshot

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shyamanuensis · 1 month ago

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drabbles and thoughts - sebastian sallow

Sebastian missed the way you nagged at him. Stand straight, calm down, don't listen to them Seb. He missed the way you were constantly attached at the hip which he had taken for granted. The way that you'd bend over backwards at the drop of a hat to ensure his best interests were always put at the forefront of your actions. How you ensured that time after time, it was him smiling; irrespective of the way you felt and what you had going on in life; or better still - what your heart was going through. That red string of fate you had tied between your wrists, linking you both had been cut, severed, torn; shreded. He was a fool to think he'd ever get that back. That friendship, that alliance, the never questioned bond you'd both fallen head first into. Regardless of his ambition projected as impulsiveness, his loyalty dressed as a playful, teasing lust.

He hated the way; he wasn't the reason behind your smiles, wasn't the reason for your laughter, could never be the reason for your heart to skip a beat. He'd watch you; from a distance. He was never beside you anymore. This time, from across the corridor before charms on a Thursday as you made your way past him without a hello, without a slide glance, without even a hint that he existed. He watched as you draped your arm around the back of Garreth who just grinned, snaked his own arm around your shoulders and pressed the softest off kisses to your cheek. One that made you giggle, one that made you smile, one that made you rub tiny circles at the small of his back like a lovenote written into robes.

That's when he knew he had lost you.

Or at least - lost the idea of the two of you. One he'd continue to crave and have sleepless nights over forever.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow drabble #sebastian sallow x oc

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theamazingdigitalraceway · 1 month ago

Note

What is the cast's roman empire/thing they think about a lot.

(Bonus question):

(Whats your roman empire? ',:3)

A/N: MY Roman empire is this AU. I am haunted by this plotline that won't write itself for some reason 🙄 what do you mean I have to actually write it???

CAINE: Entertain. Distract. Deflect. Humans can be happy here. He can keep them happy. It's the one thing he was made to do. However there is a certain racer that has made him feel like maybe he could be more.

POMNI: Escape. There must be a way out. There must be. However, she's recently been distracted by a curtain pair of dentures.

RAGATHA: ANYTHING that isn't her current situation. She welcomes any distraction. If she thinks about where she is...she won't last.

JAX: Abstraction. It's always in the back of his mind. He can hide it and lie to himself and the others...but he's afraid. All. The. Time.

GANGLE: Her art projects. From OCs to changing the color on her kart, she's got art on the brain.

ZOOBLE: Their appearance. They avoid mirrors. They avoid the subject. It nags at them. They think about it whether they like it or not.

KINGER: Bugs. All the bugs. Big bugs. Little bugs. Bugs that aren't insects. BUGS.

GUMMIGOO: Racing. It's his first real identity, being a racer. He's still figuring things out but Racing takes the forefront of many thoughts.

LOO: Living. She wants to experience as much as possible. She doesn't mind being an NPC, she gets to live so many different lives.

SETH: Mango. He was in love with her, to the point he wanted to marry her. He still has the ring.

ABEL: Vengeance. It's all he's obsessed over for twenty years.

#the amazing digital raceway #raceway au #tadc raceway au #the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc au #raceway seth #tadc pomni #raceway abel #tadc caine

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wzy3ka · 2 years ago

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| When you caught him smoking — S.JY (심재윤)

bf!jake x fem!reader / you caught Jake smoking. warnings: slightly suggestive?, angst?/ fluff kissing, smoking I think that’s all

—————————————————————————-

Jake sat on the spacious balcony, perched on a comfortable chair, his fingers tightly wrapped around the chilled can of beer. The evening had gracefully transitioned into the night a little over an hour ago, casting a mesmerizing array of stars across the sky.

It had been quite some time since you had departed, embarking on your new venture to Japan for a prestigious fashion show. This was the longest period of separation you both had experienced, and it weighed heavily on Jake's heart.

While distance may have physically separated you, the countless

FaceTime calls acted as a lifeline, keeping the connection alive. Each conversation revealed just how much he missed you, and the mere thought of your absence tugged at his heartstrings.

The longing to hold you in his arms grew stronger with each passing day, and he yearned for the moment when you would return to him. That day finally arrived when your work in Japan was completed, prompting you to hastily secure the earliest flight available, eager to be reunited with Jake once more.

In an attempt to create a memory that would linger forever in his heart, you decided to keep your imminent arrival a secret, concealing the delightful surprise that awaited him.

As you turned the key in the lock, the door swung open, revealing the darkness that cloaked your apartment. A flicker of anticipation danced in your eyes as you pondered the possible reasons for the absence of light.

Could Jake be fast asleep, worn out from the day's exertions? The time was well past 11 pm, and you knew his restless nature would keep him awake, even at this late hour.

Setting your suitcase aside, you ventured further into the apartment, making your way toward the shared bedroom.

However, your steps came to an abrupt halt as a peculiar and somewhat unpleasant scent permeated the air, assaulting your senses

A toxic aroma lingered, its presence undeniable.

Casting a wary gaze into the darkness, you caught a glimpse of a familiar silhouette occupying the balcony a silhouette you recognized all too well.

It was Jake, sitting there in the dimly lit space, his thoughts a mystery yet to be unraveled.

From the shape of Jake's tense shoulders, you could sense the weight that burdened him, while a faint wisp of white smoke floated before him, dissipating into the night air.

Startled by your presence, he jolted up from his seat, inadvertently releasing the grip on his beer, causing it to tumble and shatter on the ground.

The tranquility that had enveloped him was abruptly disrupted by the sound of your sweet voice, breaking through the haze of his thoughts.

He wasn't even sure if he could trust his ears the sound of your voice felt surreal and otherworldly.

Turning his figure toward you, his tense expression spoke volumes, revealing the turmoil that had plagued him during your absence.

Unbeknownst to you, the passing days had taken a toll on his spirit, leaving him yearning for your comforting presence. But before he could fully process your arrival, there was a burning question that tugged at the forefront of your mind.

"Jake?" you spoke his name softly,

seeking his attention, and in that moment, his eyes locked onto yours, a mixture of relief and tension swirling within them.

However, before he could respond, you posed the question that had nagged at you.

"Are you smoking?" you asked, your voice laced with concern, as your gaze shifted to the wisps of smoke that lingered in the air.

"I missed you," Jake murmured, his words escaping his lips before he could register your inquiry, his mind still reeling from the sight of you standing before him.

"Are you smoking?" you insisted, determined to uncover the truth.

Jake hesitated for a moment, his internal struggle evident, before he

finally nodded his head in reluctant admission.

"Why?" you inquired, searching for an explanation to understand his actions.

"I don't know," he confessed, his voice tinged with a hint of remorse. He was acutely aware of the detrimental effects of smoking, but his loneliness had driven him to seek solace in the temporary respite it offered.

"You know you shouldn't expose vourself to those toxic substances." you pleaded, gesturing toward the cigarettes with a mix of concern and frustration.

"Y/n, I just felt so lonely here, and I wanted to ease my mind," he confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability. The weight of guilt washed over you upon hearing his words. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have allowed myself to succumb to this habit."

"It's okay. You have me now, Jake" you reassured him, your voice filled with understanding and love.

As he approached you, his arms outstretched, he enveloped you in his embrace, providing solace in his strong, protective hold.

"Kiss me?" you whispered, a mischievous grin dancing on your lips as you looked into his eyes.

"Your wish is my command," Jake responded, a playful smile lighting up his face. As he leaned in, his lips met yours, igniting a spark of passion and desire.

In that moment, you could feel the tension of longing melt away as your souls intertwined in a dance of fiery love.

But just as things were about to escalate, you halted him, recognizing the importance of the promise you needed from him.

"Wait," you gently interrupted, your voice filled with a mix of seriousness and tenderness.

"Promise me that you will never put another cigarette between your lips as long as we are together."

Jake looked at you, his eyes filled with amusement, a mischievous glint dancing within them before he spoke.

"I promise that your lips will be the only 'cigarettes' I put between my lips," he declared, his words dripping with playful affection.

And with that promise sealed, he claimed your mouth once again.

#sim jaeyun #jake x reader #jake sim x reader #sim jake imagines #enha #enhypen jake #jake enhypen #enhypen hard hours #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #enhypen x you #jake sim #jake enha

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glitterguts13 · 3 months ago

Note

Dan Heng or Blade or Jing Yuan (maybe secretly) giving birth to Lan’s child? 👀

I don't write enough Jing Yuan, let's give him some love today, yeah?

There's something scratching at the back of his brain, an inexplicable force urging him to go. Try as he might, the General just can't seem to focus on the work laid out in front of him, the single thought of move cycling over and over.

With the dead of winter hanging over the Loufu, the heavy coat he wears covers the incredibly noticeable swell hanging off his middle. Little light-hearted jabs are tossed his way, on how he'd been gaining weight, that the lazy General was getting up there in years, and perhaps a few more work outs were needed.

His clothes got baggier after that, his armor discarded, jackets and cloaks keeping his secret with only a few centimeters of fabric. The jokes stopped, everyone going about their life as if nothing in the world was any different.

Jing Yuan didn't have that luxury.

Heavy boots echo through the quiet, night-empty streets. Jing Yuan isn't even sure where he's going, just that he needs to get there, and fast.

The last few months had been a blur, nothing was the way it should have been. Every action he took felt muddy, as if something was controlling him, guiding him, pushing him.

The thing inside his belly shifts, jumping and kicking.

It had bothered the General at first, but now as he hurries along, his hands slip under his coat and gently strokes his heavy bump.

The pain starts slow, twinges he ignores while hyperfocused on getting to wherever it was he needed so badly to be. So set on his goal, he barely notices when a burst of liquid dribbles down his thighs and leaves a wet trail behind him.

There's an old, abandoned starskiff on the edge of the Loufu. Lost to time, marked for destruction but somehow spared by someone's forgetfulness. Jing Yuan slips inside, that nagging voice in the back of his skull finally starting to quiet.

He strips from his clothes, folding them neatly aside while the pain begins to come to the forefront of his thoughts. He places a hand on his belly, dazed and confused.

Baby, that's right, their baby was ready to be born.

He settles against the back corner of the starskiff, hands gently smoothing over his middle, chuckling softly as the child inside him kicks impatiently. The muscles of his womb contract, but the pain feels far away. Present, but dulled by something nibbling away at his subconscious being.

Push.

Head lolling back, Jing Yuan takes hold of his legs from behind his knees, pulling them. His belly shifts, tightening, shrinking visibly as another gush of fluid pours onto the dusty ground.

He moans, low and deep, eyes closed.

A guttural hum the only noise he can make as he bares down again and again, feeling their child squirming further down and closer to the world.

Push, harder.

Gasping for air, Jing Yuan feels dizzy, his hole stretching far too wide and sending shocks of agony through his aching body. He pushes, again, and again, groaning and moaning till the life growing inside of him finally slides free.

Panting, tears dripping down his face, Jing Yuan pulls them to his chest.

Small, whimpering softly, faceless with deep, navel blue skin pulsing with energy. Beautiful, and dreadfully inhuman.

#mpreg #mpreg birth #honkai star rail #jing yuan

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neuroticbookworm · 2 years ago

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Parenting in Step by Step, a defense

I saw a bunch of posts about how Pat is immature and has poor communication skills, and citing his parents' divorce as one of the potential reasons.

*baffled* W H A T.

I don't have the time or energy to rant about the "poor communication skills" read, so all I'm gonna say is that Pat was busy holding his mushed up braincells together for the majority of this episode and direct your attention to @shortpplfedup's crisp and hilarious Ten Movements that perfectly summed up Pat's emotional journey. Cut him some slack, for fuck's sake.

Now, onto Pat's parents and their relationship with him and each other. I want to highlight the writing and dialogue in their scenes, because it hurts my heart to see not a lot of people talking about them.

When we first meet them, both Pat's Mom and Dad express concern about his eating habits, but the parent-child dynamics in these conversations were very different. Pat's mom says it's not good for him to eat ramen for breakfast, but she quickly accepts Pat's excuse and goes back to doting on him. When she brings up Jeng, and Pat complains that she is nagging and changes the subject, she lets him.

When Dad comes into town a few *undisclosed unit of time* later, he basically asks the same question as Mom, but this time, Pat is a little elaborate with his excuse explanation.

But Dad doesn't let him get away with his bullshit. He offers up a few solutions and wants to work on them with Pat.

After he's sure that Pat knows the need to change his food habits, he then adds levity to the conversation, and goofs around with his son. (I will forever adore the Asian Gordon Ramsey moment, more father-son wholesomeness in Asian media, please and thank you)

(did y'all notice how both Pat's Mom and Dad call him adorable with very different energies? did ya? okay, good)

Now, when the time came for Pat to let go of all his frustrations and break down in front of his parents, I was worried that the show would lean a bit too hard on the parental roles, the good cop/bad cop gambit. But no, it surprised me. It sure started out that way, with Pat offering up an empty excuse to Mom's question.

Which is immediately followed by this look:

(more on this later, I have SO MANY THOUGHTS about this)

When Dad follows up with this statement, Pat's defenses begin to crumble.

He opens up about how he feels overwhelmed and disconnected with himself, and Dad responds with this:

He brings the realities of adulthood to the forefront, reassuring him that he has also been there before and that Pat will learn to manage it. Still in line with the roles the show had previously drawn up for them. When Pat continues, Mom moves to Pat's side as soon as they realise that Pat's problems include heartbreak ("Everywhere I go, it's filled with memories") and she hits him with this:

Oooooof. That's a hell of a line. Accurate? yes. Comforting? Fuck no.

That's when Dad moves to Pat's side, and tries to soothe him. The roles are flipped.

Pat then says that maybe it would've been better, if they had stayed with him all the time. Now, this can mean two different things: I wish I didn't grow up so I could've stayed with you and life would've been so much simpler; I wish you guys did not get divorced and we could've all stayed together. Mom chooses to address the first part. She says that even if they stayed together, no one could stay with him all the time.

Dad, then acknowledges the separation and they tell him, TOGETHER, that they will always be his parents, and they never stopped loving him. And that they don't hate each other.

The TEAMWORK here, between Pat's mom and dad is executed SO WELL. They love their son, and want to comfort and reassure him, and they do it together. They don't do the "one of us do the talking and the other one hmms in the background" bullshit. They both understand his pain and give him their individual and collective opinions. They are in sync with each other's thoughts, and it shows. Remember the look between them at the beginning of this scene?

This speaks VOLUMES. They know something is weighing on him and they can't let him excuse his way out of this conversation. They look at each other, a non-verbal "let's do this", and start talking to Pat.

Being in love with each other and being good parents are not strictly inclusive. The show did not leave this unsaid, either. They show us, how two people can move on and still remain in each others' lives as someone to lean on. Someone who will always know you better than most people in this world.

How some people saw this amazing back-and-forth and thought "yeah, they're incompatible, and they traumatized their son, and he now has communication issues", I'll never understand.

TL;DR:

Stop demonizing divorce and calling it the root of all childhood trauma

SBS writers are doing some things EXCEPTIONALLY WELL, and they deserve credit for it

#step by step #step by step the series #pat phakphum #jeng kittiphong #jengpat

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myillusions · 2 years ago

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I Saw You In A Dream (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Summary: After being ambushed by a group of raiders, you are gravely injured, testing the limits of your life. In torment, it’s dauntingly proven to Joel that without you, his light, he doesn't know how to cope.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: HEAVY angst, death of reader, blood, wound description, fluff, more angst (this is just a buttload of angst tbh), cursing, infected, canon typical violence

A/N: ahhhh ok ok i honestly had so much bloody fun writing this omg. i wont even lie writing angst is a BLAST and for what!! again tysm all of u for the amount of love on Home here's another oneshot bc why not i hope u all enjoy and thank u to everyone who reads! bless u all <33

An owl; a bird which gives an omen of death with its hoot. Joel should’ve taken it as a warning that night. He curses himself every day for not listening intently for it; constantly wishing for a way to go back to the time before it was too late. To the time before he heard the light chatter of perturbed Jackson townsfolk as they flooded their way to the front entrance gates.

In some way, Joel already knew. You had left on your patrol early that morning, before the sun had even begun to make its venture to haul itself above the distant hillocks; and had yet to return, even as navy blue and stygian black clawed at the sky above, drowning the sun downwards revoltingly along with Joel’s hammering heart. He already had that nagging thought which creeped its way to the forefront of his mind maliciously with each movement. As he swerved and shoved his way through the crowd, the only thing that highlighted your physique set upon the horse was the dim lighting of the flickering flames confined within glass, sitting as streetlights and the scintillating reflection of the moon. You were not alone, sitting behind Tommy on the saddle as he directed the horse through the gathered, his own hands smeared scarlet with the evidence of your pained expression. Your head was slung forwards with exasperation, a palm wrapped firmly around your torso.

Joel forced his way to the head of the throng, coming to assist with hoisting you off from the horse and laying you down onto a make-shift stretcher weaved with a multitude of maple leaves against the material in attempt to provide comfort; but it did not serve to calm Joel’s ragged breathing as his hands came to cup your cheeks, searching your dazed appearance mixed with pale skin, your eyes giving their best brawl to remain open.

“Look at me, baby. It’s okay. Look at me.” Joel tried desperately, seeking to keep you conscious. Your mouth opened for a moment like you were going to try and speak, but then two people were gripping the wood pieces connected to the bed, heaving you upwards and towards the Jackson infirmary. As you were lifted Joel’s hands slid down from your face, much to his disapproval. He began to kickstart after you until a hand was placed against his shoulder, abruptly pausing him in his steps. Joel whirled his head around, his brows furrowed, going to shove the intrusion away, before he was met with Tommy’s aggrieved guise.

“It’s not good, Joel.” Tommy warned, his head tilting slowly. Joel went to respond but didn’t trust his own voice at that moment, so he just roughly turned away, storming after you.

Once Joel had shoved past the doors to the makeshift hospital and gotten to the room in which you were located, he immediately perched himself at your bedside, hands running forth to securely grip yours. Joel went to finally examine you for the first time, his stomach churning sickeningly as his gaze settled upon the profound wound stretched along the side of your torso, clearly struck by a sharp-edged knife. The gash was illuminated with deep crimson, and blood emanated persistently.

He shook his head to clear the odious sight from his glare, instead directing it up to your eyes, which were already firmly planted on him. Something unnamed glistened in the cavernous hue of them, as though you were seeing him for the first time; or the last.

Joel couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze from you, too frightened that you may crumble beneath his hold if he did, even as the only doctor of Jackson, John, broke through into the room hurriedly; coming to inspect you, with hushed inquires being passed through the few in the room. Joel caught on to the fact that your patrol was ambushed by raiders, and it caused a tint of vexed red to forsake his vision.

Then, you began to shake; as an agonised cry ripped through your trachea, your eyesight blurring with ample tears. Your head shook vigorously as you blinked up towards Joel, hands desperately trying to squeeze his tighter, though slipping from the quantity of blood smeared against your flesh.

“It hurts.” You sobbed out through a harsh inhale, head falling forwards with exertion and Joel felt himself physically deflate with the demoralised edge to your voice.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” Joel urged, shaking your palms against his until your chin lifted back up to face his watered gaze once again, “Just look at me, baby.”

You sniffled gratingly, your next words coming out rasped as your throat dried with trepidation, “I’m scared.”

Joel frowned laboriously, elevating a palm from your own to press it impetuously against the side of your face, his thumb swiping away the tears that had collected on your cheek.

“I know, sweetheart. I know. It’s going to be okay.” Joel promised warily, his gaze flickering over towards where John was collecting his limited supplies, before he brought it back to your distressed face.

“It’s going to be okay.” Joel reaffirmed, if not more for himself. He pressed his palm closer towards your jaw when your eyes began to flutter with warning of falling unconscious, his gaze widening as he began to ramble out assertions to try and keep you awake.

You listlessly and crookedly smiled over towards Joel as your eyesight blurred in from the edges, creating a tunnel-like vision directed towards Joels panicked optics. Your brain crepitated, cutting off any hearing obtrusively; but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you peered up, hyper fixating on the deep mahogany of Joel’s eyes, swimming with flecks of a colour much adjacent to coffee beans, which you found ironic. Joel had always loved coffee.

You remembered him noting that he had a fondness for coffee on the first time you met. You were situated in the mess hall, sitting at one of the back corner tables, unaccompanied. This wasn’t because you were lonely, no; it was because you currently had a book planted in your lap and were earnestly invested in whatever was on the pages, gravely turning each crinkled off-white page.

“Coffee?” A smooth voice interrupted your reading, causing your head to jerk up with furrowed brows. A man stood there, with a peppered-grey beard and unruled brunette hair; you recognised him almost instantaneously. Joel Miller. He’s Tommy’s brother, from what you had heard; which wasn’t a lot. He mostly kept to himself, and you didn’t dare to intrude on his personal space. Though admittedly, you had always had a piqued interest for the brooding man.

“What?” You gawped up at him, dumbfounded.

Joel cracked an amused grin at your blundering manner, gesturing towards the alabaster mug full of dark amber liquid set on the table.

“What you’re drinking. Is it coffee?” Joel inquired.

You shook your head promptly, tongue clicking discreetly. “Oh. No. Tea.”

Joel grunted, coming to settle in the seat on the opposite side of the wooden table, placing his own mug filled with his drink of choice down. His brusque manner caught you off-guard, honestly, but you were open to it; especially when he spoke next.

“I’m more of a coffee person myself.” Joel rolled his shoulder backwards to relax his posture. An animated smile lifted your expression as your nose wrinkled with distaste, and it caused Joel’s eyebrows to shoot upwards.

“What? Y’ don’t like coffee?” You shook your head, and Joel gave a dramatic scoff of faux offence, placing his palms down against the wood to elevate himself back to his feet, “Well, I don’t think this will work out then-“

“No, no!” You chirped through a boisterous laugh, reaching towards him over the table to place your hand atop his own, coaxing him to sit back down, “You just got here.”

Joel chuckled blithely, settling back down into the seat, yet he didn’t make any actions to remove your palm from the back of his. He seemed to analyse you rigorously for a moment, before he tilted his head, “Joel.”

You blinked with incredulity, retracting your hand to place it back into your lap. You introduced yourself composedly, even if your heartbeat was pulsating rapidly enough to give even a talented gunman whiplash. Joel tested your name out against his tongue for a moment, before he gave a nod of commendation.

“You’re Tommy’s brother, right?” You asked with a tilt of your head and newfound attentiveness. He seemed startled at your question, his arms raising to cross along his chest to comfortably situate himself.

“I am.” Joel confirmed.

“I don’t wish to intrude, I’m sorry- but I heard you came here with a girl, is that true?” You tried, curiosity getting the better hold of you, peeking over towards Joel, who sat in a rather stand-offish manner; protective, you guessed.

“Yes.”

“I haven’t got the chance to meet her yet, unfortunately.” You said gingerly, internally whacking yourself in your face for the idiotic inquiry; clearly, he wouldn’t leap towards the chance to talk about a close one with someone he just met, not in this society. It was far too perilous.

“I’ll have to introduce you both then.” Joel answered to your surprise; and you couldn’t hold off the exuberant smile that lifted your cheeks, which made Joel chuckle faintly.

“So, you’re both liking Jackson, then?” You hummed optimistically.

“Better than out there.” Joel replied gruffly, and you nodded your concurrence with a grimace.

“I’ve seen you around-“ Joel started, before he interrupted himself with a clear of his throat, “You been in Jackson long?”

You smiled gently, nodding punctually, “Almost a year now. I feel comfortable in calling it home now.” Which was true, the solace the Jackson walls have given you in your time of being here have provided such comfort, wrapping you in a warm blanket of dependability, and you were so appreciative of everyone involved.

You and Joel kicked it off almost straight away. Conversation was a bit tense to begin with, but both of your precautionary demeanours soon diminished with time. You discovered that Joel was actually remarkably humorous as much as he was bashful, and you swore the entire time he could undeniably see the shade of red flourishing your cheeks.

Joel rapidly learned that you were the epitome of luminosity. It seemed that wherever life decided to plant you, you always bloomed with grace. It never failed to amaze Joel. He would often grow timid whenever you caught him staring, trying to memorise each and every curve of your profile. God, how he adored you.

He never made any sort of advance in your relationship, remaining diffident and reclused with his touches and words, until five months after meeting you.

You had both been appointed on the outlook patrol together, and Joel remembered being embarrassingly rapturous about it. You had both just reached the designated spot, advancing the latter and discarding your bags by the dusty fireplace. You moved outside onto the balcony to curl your palms over the metal railing, chin lifting as you drew in an extensive breath, simply enjoying the fleeting moment of peace you managed to capture upon the higher level.

Joel had come to a stop as your effulgent hair lightly oscillated, swinging with the smooth rhythm of the passing zephyr. Joel didn’t believe he had ever seen someone look so deeply peaceful since the beginning of the end, and it stole his breath away unexpectedly in the form of you. You, casted in the illumination of the sun’s rays; and him, bordered in the gloomy shadows created by the roof of the outlook.

He didn’t plan to, but the words more-so tumbled from his lips before he could even have a thought of capturing them,

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

The statement made you fall stiff, head revolving around briskly to face him, your glistening eyes held wide. He felt dread cascade against him in a barrelling motion, his mouth running dry.

Joel blinked, shifting on his weight as his shoulders rolled forwards subconsciously, stumbling over his words as he attempted to sought up an excuse, “Well, I- what I mean is-“

He hadn’t noticed you taking a multitude of brisk steps towards him after the moment of revelation dispersed, approaching him until you were only a few mere breaths away, crossing the threshold the sun made between the joyous and dismal. You were almost touching.

Joel’s words died in his throat as he took a leap to connect his eyeline with yours; and what he was met with was awe and tenderness, causing a chill to run along his spine swiftly.

Joel felt his eyes flutter downwards to peer towards your full lips briefly, until they returned to your eyes once again, fleetingly. You both stayed like that, with dense breaths, until Joel spoke again. He had shifted forwards a bit more without noticing now, so close that even an inch of movement from either of you would press you both together.

“What I mean is,” Joel repeated steadily, his gaze searching yours inquisitively, “I didn’t expect to get this attached to you.”

Joel wasn’t even positive he had a heartbeat anymore with the way it was beating so rapidly against his ribcage and with how you drew out a shaky breath, a hand snaking up to be placed soothingly against his neck. Joel watched as your gaze clouded with endearment, and he didn’t take the time to reconsider his actions before he was swooping forth, capturing his lips with yours.

You sighed against his mouth, pressing forwards more, and the kiss escalated passionately. Joel’s hands flew down to your waist, delicately tracing the curves of your hips. He grunted against your lips as your mouths moved against each other, connecting you both completely and intimately for the first time. Joel felt his lungs burning against his chest, but he couldn’t bring himself to tear away from you, chasing after your lips more after every movement.

You keened against his mouth, before you murmured something. Joel finally pulled back, breaths intermingling heavily as you both caught your breath, eyes gradually sliding back open to peer into the others. You raised a palm to stretch it along his chest, playing with the buttons of his shirt.

“I think I’m falling for you too.” You murmured the confession, almost unintelligible; but he caught on. He smiled contentedly, leaning back in to recapture your lips with his fervently.

Joel was always in awe of you. Whilst being graceful and empathetic, you were also insanely valorous and proficient. You were a blazing forest fire, and Joel was a freezing man wondering the wilderness. He never wished to control your flame, only wanted to be near it.

He had uncovered that you were the kind of person to persistently say ‘I got this’, even when tears clouded your eyes. You proved this on the day that you, Joel and the rest of the patrol you were with encountered a lot of infected.

You, Joel and three others had been tasked with clearing out an area by the border of Jackson which had been reported to have been flooded with newfound infected that were drawn in. Upon arriving to the worn-out metal shed, it hadn’t taken long for you all to be ambushed by a group of infected.

It was a whirlwind of reverberating gunshots, mixed with the caterwauls of both human and infected. Joel, in a frenzy, after taking down a particularly stubborn runner, had whirled around to search for you desperately; fear striking along his veins.

Then he spotted you, stuck in the midst of it. Like a spotlight had shone down from the sky, past the tinned roof. The perfect combination of grandeur and violence, shooting adrenaline through your figure with every left jab, swipe of the leg, kick, right hook and shoot of your pistol. You fought with such vigour and persistence to protect your patrol mates; Joel was so eminently astonished of the sight that the figures moving towards him with malice were scarcely indistinguishable. Joel found a relief in allowing himself to focus on the task at hand after seeing you in the difficult situation, in complete confidence that you were able to handle yourself.

Joel shook you lightly to bring you back to your conscious, and he’s positive he’s trapped in a nightmare. John was gawping down at the substantial wound, having assessed the damage and come to a dreadful conclusion. Joel all but dismissed him from his sight, primarily focusing on you as your eyes slowly fluttered back open to face him, although hazy. You gave a dazed smile towards him as his appearance flooded back into your sight, your head tilting to the side, until the pain dived back in, striking you in the gut like a bullet.

You pressed your lips together in a thin line tightly to try and stifle the pain. Joel could do nothing but look on with apprehension. You then reached out for him desperately, an inhale breaking past your windpipe.

“Hold me. Please. Joel- Hold me-“ You choked out, gripping onto his shirt to tug him forwards pitifully. He hesitated, but then complied, twisting around to grab the nearest chair and drag it as close as physically possible towards the bed. He would’ve laid down with you, but he didn’t wish to disturb the wound anymore, so instead he wrapped his arm around the back of your head to cradle you against him, his cheek pressed right up to yours and his chest against the side of the bed.

He rocked back and forth slightly, murmuring emboldening words, “It’s okay, baby. I got you.” He raised his head to peer into your own eyes, his free hand coming back to squeeze your palm faintly, in reassurance, “You got this.”

You seemed to smile bemusedly towards that, as you tilted her head closer to him to seek out his warmth, beginning to shake as a honed chill ran along you, turning your fingertips frigid.

You gave a shallow weep, your mouth opening hopelessly; you were trying to say something. Joel exhaled unsteadily, leaning in towards you as you attempted to make out a few simple words.

You blinked up towards Joel as tears cascaded down your cheeks, but it wasn’t from the pain anymore. You shakily raised a hand, before delicately pressing your raw palm against his cheek. Joel forced himself to meet your gaze as his own significantly watered, multiple of his own teardrops littering his skin.

You endeavoured to get your words out, “I- I- I lo-“ But eventually you abandoned the idea as your throat tightened, cutting you off.

Joel broke now, his bottom lip wobbling until a cry tumbled through. “I love you, sweetheart. Fuck, I love you.”

You swiped your thumb over his cheekbone with an affectionate yet pained smile, your eyes cautiously slipping closed. Joel continued to rock back and forth, not breaking his gaze from you once as he muttered miserably.

“Please, baby, please. I love you. Please, god, darling.” Your eyes completely shut now, and your hand was the last to go limp as it fell from Joel’s face, planting itself by your side. Your chest stilled and the colour drained from your face completely; taking with it the tender-hearted and spirited woman he once knew, “Please.”

Joel prevailed in his swaying, his head drooping to hang low as he muttered nothings into the still air, not allowing the sight before him to candidly present itself.

Though, as soon as a hand landed on his shoulder; it brought Joel down to reality and sent him off the edge all at once. He felt as though he’s just stepped off a cliff, barrelling hundreds of feet into the dark ravine of the bitter currents that awaits below, swallowing him up completely as he fights against ocean currents, and then spitting him out to lay lifeless on the coarse sandy beaches.

Joel leans forwards as a striking pain wretches through his stomach, an agonising wail tearing past his windpipe and crawling its way out of his mouth. With the lamentation of the unveiling scene, the person who had pressed against his shoulder rapidly vacated the premise, leaving just Joel and the limp physique of you in the room. It happened too quick. Joel presses closer towards you, even with your body now not sanctioning the amiability and warmth he’s accustomed to.

Joel gave irrepressible cries which sent his spine forwards, until his body eventually gave out on him, and his arms untangled from you, sending his knees plummeting towards the marble floor, the chair dragging backwards with a deafening screech. Joel couldn’t hear, an ear-piercing ringing resounding through his head. Tunnel vision spiralled so rapidly in his vision that he had to shut his eyes tightly and lift his hands to harshly rake through his hair, ripping at his scalp. He curled himself downwards, his broad shoulders trembling whilst he wept.

For all the time that Joel had been familiar with you; you had been the symbol of radiance, your benign words spreading consolation through anyone fortunate enough to receive it. Your determination transcended further than anyone Joel had ever had the pleasure to meet, and your overwhelming fierceness and vehemence brought a magnificent juxtaposition to your thoughtfulness.

That light of yours had shuddered away to a dim glow, before disappearing completely; and Joel had witnessed it all. That will forever be his torment. To see a rare luminous light of this flawed and run-down world flicker to a formidable and devastating darkness.

And now, Joel is involuntarily enforced to remember you for longer than he had known you, and that is the most significant torture of it all.

"When death takes my hand, I will hold you with the other, and promise to find you in every lifetime." i saw you in a dream - The Japanese House

Comments and feedback are appreciated!

#joel miller fanfiction #Joel Miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel #hbo the last of us #the last of us #help idk what im doing #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou series #hbo #joel miller x f!reader #pedrostories

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00127am · 1 year ago

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signed with love and forever yours, chenle

postage. zhong chenle & gn! reader, cursing, mentions of kissing, very brief mention of sex (only in name, no details) cost to ship. 625 words

i can't seem to get you out of my mind.

you stick to my skin like glue that i just cannot seem to wash off. it's annoying, really. having to exist in each and every moment with the preconceived fantasy of you playing in my head with every word and every breath and every movement (all dedicated to one more second spent with the vision of you in my head). i hate how much i think of you, nearly as much as i hate being away from you (though the latter proves to be much worse).

i haven't been able to stop thinking about you since before any kisses of ours. and before the first time we fucked (does the use of the word fucking ruin the letter for you? i can practically hear you nagging me to change it to "making love," or something equally as stupid). you've haunted my mind since i before felt your touch on my skin and before you flashed that strikingly pretty smile in my direction. i can't tell you when it began. when you made your permanent home in the forefront of my every waking moment. but i wouldn't be surprised if you were always there, from the moment we first met.

i know i say that i don't remember it. and i don't, not your version of our initial meeting. and maybe i avoid the topic to hold myself from the embarrassment of admitting that i've been aware of you for much longer than you've been aware of me. or perhaps because if we did talk about it, and you pried (like you always do) then i would be forced to admit that i've been utterly and incomprehensibly in love with you from the moment i first saw you. a memory which i revisit nearly as often as i fantasize about you.

it's not revisited enough. at least, not enough to burn off the remainder of your lingering presence in my mind. something i doubt i'll ever be able to truly remove, though i'm not sure i'd ever want too. but if i did, if i had to move on from you, i doubt that i would ever be able too. both a matter of lacking the courage and the simple fact that i'm afraid that i will not ever be able to love anyone as i have loved you. because you, in every essence of yourself, are love to me. more so than any textbook definition and scientific measurement.

i can't seem to get you out of my head. so do me a favor and come to me in person instead. please.

about chenle's love letters.

all of chenle's letters are never meant to see the light of day, much less your gaze. he writes them on whatever is in his reach in the moment, the spare napkin laying on his desk and the back of the cardboard box from his most recent purchase. his words are lovely and kind, filled with an adoration that he expresses to you in touch rather than prose, filing the letters away in the bottom drawer of his desk. they'll reach your eyes some day, just not now, not when he feels like his heart may burst at the mere thought of you.

he often writes his letters in an irritated daze, bottom lip caught between his teeth and eyes set, furrowed, upon the bridge of his nose. the grip of his pen is tight, ink pushing harsh into the paper. all of his letters are written with love, despite being tainted by the faint impression of vexation. an aggravation stemming from the fault of feeling too much. loving too much. something chenle finds easy to blame upon you for all intents and purposes.

your mailbox

taglist. @evilsailorsenshi @222brainrot thank you for supporting me! ♡

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o9t1mus-x · 6 months ago

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the flames devour (everything that we are)

pairing: (young) sister imperator x (young) papa nihil emeritus

warnings: SMUT! vaginal sex, vaginal fingering/cunnilingus, groupie sex/mild infidelity, a messy coupling, some light angst and mentioned misogyny, mentioned past murder, set around the late 60's but before the Kiss the Go Goat incident, only Primo and Secondo exist

summary: Control, power, fame. Everything Sister Imperator promised the Clergy that the Ghost Project would culminate and more. But when push comes to shove and Nihil can't look past the packed backstage doors, someone has to put their foot down. (Surprise, surprise. It's not Sister Imperator).

word count: 10.2k

authors note: special thanks to @barelydaisy for commissioning this piece from me! the gratitude i feel towards you makes me ever so fond! i hope whoever reads this enjoys it, comments/reblogs/likes are always appreciated!

MINORS DNI

Read On AO3

--------------------------

Facetious. Flippant. Exaggeratedly stupid enough to make her head thrum with anger on a daily basis. How unfortunate that he be so alluring.

The motel lobby was stuffy, the air thick and humid with the hum of the heater. She assumed it was the owner’s fault the heat was up so high, the flurries of snow outside swirling across the frosted panes of glass. She looked at the carpet below her, mottled with green and brown in an unappealing combination. It was a struggle to push down the urge to scoff.

Lifting her head, she studied the features in the dimly lit foyer. The furniture was mismatched in an abysmal show of ‘interior design’ skills, a mixing of modern and so dreadfully outdated that it made her want to retch. Resisting the urge to openly huff, Imperator pulled her coat tighter around her. The fur trim tickles against her neck, her hair further up than normal and lessening the chance of it whipping in the wind. The silk scarf wrapped around her head protects her ears, and heightens the anticipation of walking into a room and having all eyes on her.

She walks closer to the small front office window, peering in a bit more. The urge to ring the call bell and finally get some goddamn service was at the forefront of her mind. The dingy carpet, the thick lining of dust in the creases of the front desk, she could go on about the reasons she wished they were at another motel. To put it lightly, they were shit out of luck. She was no stranger to dingy motels, but the fact that they were better than that was a nagging thought in the back of her mind.

The tour was going well. In fact, better than well. Throngs of screaming fans, clubs and bars packed with people begging for an opportunity to see Papa Nihil up close. From her spot in the wings, Sister Imperator watched with subtle glee. She knew that Nihil was charismatic, but she hadn’t anticipated the reception they had gotten from the public. There were those in it for the music, for Satan, or more overwhelmingly for him. The dingy bars had been acceptable to play, the low tickets quickly piling into more than they had ever imagined possible for the Clergy.

Sister had fought for the Ghost project, staring down the eyes of men she knew only wanted to see her on her back with her legs spread. Men who wouldn’t shirk the chance to push her down for fun, to throw down her ideas with a lackadaisical “We’ll consider it.” But Sister Imperator had listened to her, looked at her ideas with an interest that led to her taking a young woman with wild ideas under her wing. And now here she was, with her title and her status, a former name now neglected, a shallow grave in the woods at the Abbey that nobody would find, and a small syringe hidden in a lockbox that she had thrown away the key to.

But with fame and a message spreading far quicker than anticipated, Sister couldn’t help but wish to stretch the budget in other ways. For once she would like to lay her head in a bed she hadn’t voraciously searched for bed bugs, stripping the sheets to find cigarette burns in the mattress. Nihil hadn’t cared, simply flopping down beside her and mouth opening in an uncaring yawn. Though they had separate rooms, it was seldom that they spent the night away from one another. Though she was loath to admit it, she had grown used to the weight of his head on her chest and the rise and fall of his breath on her nightgown. The road was lonely, who else to turn to but him? Practically any ghoul or stage hand , she thought to herself. But where was the fun in that?

Her line of thought was broken as she heard the waddling gait of the man stationed at the front desk, his non-slip shoes certainly close to slipping on the waxed linoleum. He appeared at the window, the flannel buttoned so tightly around his neck that she was frightened it was strangling him.

He let out a huff, flipping through the pages of paperwork that the Clergy had sent months earlier in preparation for the tour. Three rooms, two for her and Nihil and one for any reclusive ghouls that didn’t want to pile in on the bus. The man looked at her, locking eyes with an uninterested, if slightly bored, look. “Alright, I found the work in the back. Took me a minute, but it was just tucked away. You have ID, right?”

Sister nodded, her hand reaching into the mustard yellow vinyl bag she kept her clutch in. After flicking through her pocket change, she found her ID behind Nihil’s credit card. She grabbed it, placing it down on the cracked plastic of the desk and pushing it towards the man. Though she had gloves on, she didn’t trust how clean the man's hands were and didn’t want to risk him staining the crisp white of her faux fur gloves. (She cared little for the plight of the leather industry, but she couldn’t deny the news articles dampened her excitement for a new addition to her closet).

The man picked up the ID, gave it a cursory glance and nodded his head in acceptance. His hand slid under the desk, looking around for the keys no doubt. She turned around, her arms lightly wrapped around herself as the heater had stopped its incessant blasting. She turned in a half circle, her boots clicking against the floor once and then stopping. Her eyes turned to the window, the flurries coming down as mercilessly as they had been when they had rolled into the parking lot.

The light from the overhead street light shone hazy light over the parking lot, blending into the dark of the winter night as seamlessly as cream stirred into coffee. The bus was in the distance, the tinted lights only showing blurry shapes moving against the inside of the vehicle. That wasn’t what she glimpsed that snatched her attention away from the moment.

Leaning against the pillar of the motel was the curved posture of Nihil, his coat wrapped around his waist in a way that posited his sculpted abdomen that anybody would blush at. His makeup was still painted on, though a familiar eye could tell where it was beginning to pill on his neck from the copious sweat that poured down in the stage lights. His legs were crossed behind him, his platforms digging into the swirls of snow that would no doubt accumulate over night. Even through the heat of his body, the flakes of snow drifting down had caught on the unruly strands of hair and failed to melt. That wasn’t what Sister couldn’t bear to tear her eyes away from.

Nihil’s arm was placed along the hip of a woman, unknown to her. No doubt a fan from the way the woman’s lips were curled into gleeful disbelief at her luck. Sister could almost imagine the tittering, the vapid flustering of words that had become so commonplace that all she could do was turn with a roll of her eyes and a tap of her cigarette. The woman’s lips moved, and Sister could see Nihil’s mouth open in a laugh, the easy smile on his face directed at her. The hand on the woman’s hip visibly gripped tighter, pulling her closer to the warmth of his torso. The woman’s hand raised, gripping his clothed bicep and running up and down. Mocking.

Nihil turned, the woman moving alongside him and his arm curling around her hips, her deliciously full waist. His fingers pulled at the flesh, and his touch was… soft. Unfamiliar and with an air of understanding that no doubt made the woman’s stomach flutter with warmth. Had she ever been touched by a man, a woman? The intoxicating knowledge that she had sealed the deal with Papa Nihil, up and coming star of the Olde One himself. Did she know just how well his fingers moved, how his cock had made so many feel like their world was melting around them? She soon would.

Sister’s face was blank, her eyes narrowed in contemplation and thinly veiled vexation. Her stomach was simmering with… rage? Unclear. Her gloves squeaked as her hands squeezed together, her arms still crossed tightly together.

“Ma’am?” A voice said behind her, and she turned on her heel. What now? Imperator thought, her eyes flicking down at the set of keys on the ledge of the desk and her irritation fading. She picked up the key, gripping it in her hand.

The front desk attendant reached into the drawer, his head tilting up to meet her gaze. “Do you want the other key for your friend?” He motioned his head, leaning on his foot to look at Nihil outside.

Sister shook her head, her hair weighing heavy on top of it. She still needed to take a shower, unravel the intricate pins around her bun, and unpack her clothes for the morning. She let out a sigh, a careful shrug of her shoulders as she craned her head around to look out the window once more. Still in the cold, Nihil’s arms were wrapped tightly around the woman, his lips latched onto her neck and her mouth open in what was undoubtedly a wanton moan. In the middle of the night, no one was around to see them. But Sister knew he would have done it onstage, at an after party, on an altar at Black Mass for Satan’s sake.

She swiftly turned her head, meeting his gaze and pointedly dropping a twenty on the cracked plastic once more. “He can do it himself, I’m certain he can manage.” Her voice came out firm and stiff in the quiet of the lobby, and she turned to walk to the door. While she could ignore the way he licked at the woman's ear, turning pink from the bitter gusts of wind, she couldn’t ignore the simmering heat in her stomach. But there was nothing saying she couldn’t try.

___________________

The heat of the dressing room was sweltering, the push and pull of bodies making Imperator’s lip curl in disgust. The heat of the fire ghoul to her left was making her sweat, and she couldn’t afford to stain the new Emilio Pucci dress she had purchased earlier that day. The pink and green pattern helped to disguise the sweat no doubt attempting to push its way past her slip, the silk cool against her skin in the overwhelming bustle before the show. She was happy she opted to wear her hair in a high bun, the bump in her hair allowing the thin air to waft against her neck.

As she studied the people (and otherwise) in the room, her eyes landed on Nihil naturally. His hands were steady as he painted the lines across his lips, his mouth open in what would be a gasp if the thought to do so struck him. She smiled, her hand raising to her lips and taking a small drag of her cigarette. She let her hand fall away, tapping the ash into the crowded ashtray to her left. As the months in the tour had gone on, she had felt drawn towards Nihil. Long nights were spent with him nestled into her side, speaking about where they had come from, their dreams, what toppings they would add to a sundae, what colors they look best in. It was hard to deny the way her heart pounded when he drew near, though she hid it behind a stern demeanor and a perfectly drawn on smile.

The door opened, a ghoul walking in and looking towards Nihil. “Papa? You’ve got a call on the other line, the manager is trying to patch it through to ‘ya.” The earth ghoul spoke in a lethargic sway as he pushed his way through the crowd, the familiar pungent smell of dope stuck to his clothes. Nihil nodded, shooting the ghoul a half painted grin as he set down the brush and reached for the white marbled telephone to his left. He picked it up off the receiver, holding it against his ear. He paused, listening for the feedback of the call.

“Yello?” Nihil said into the phone, a confused look on his face, though it stretched into a grin as he let the call go on further. “Yes, it’s Papa. I thought you were supposed to be sleeping? Is it not night there, ragazzino? ( little boy).” Nihil’s lips were wide as he snickered into the phone, cradling it to his ear as he listened intently. Imperator could have bled from the ears at the urge to roll her eyes.

Nihil’s son Primo was sweet, there were no doubts about that. Quiet and intelligent, he was racing through his studies with diligence that was admirable for children his age. However, she couldn’t stop the irritation that fueled her when she saw him, heard his voice. He was a child, for Satan’s sake, she was being unreasonably harsh! But he was part of the bloodline, time would tell if he was worthy of his spot as Papa in adulthood. For now, he would watch Doctor Who and study to be the antipope. What an antithesis, she snorted to herself, pulling her cigarette to her lips for another puff.

“I will keep you on my mind, make sure to keep an eye out for your little brother. Especially him, I know he has been eating my Cordials. I have eyes on him, the piccola rana. (little frog).” NIhil laughs, his white paint creasing where he had failed to set it. After a minute or so of diligent listening, he shushes into the phone. “Goodnight, tell your fratello I send my love.” A pause, and a look of tired fondness softens his face. “Bye bye.” He pulls the phone away from his ear, placing it back on the receiver with a ring.

She wouldn’t pry, Sister thought to herself. Though she was never one to shy away from stirring up the mud with a well placed jab, she knew better than to push at the… delicate nature of Nihil’s relationship with his young children. It’s not as though they were all little monsters (She found herself grimacing internally, they weren’t little monsters all the time. But it would be no hard challenge to count on her fingers all the times she’d found leftover Chiclets from Secondo in her purse. Little bastard).

She rose from her seat, pushing through the ghouls pulling on their clothes for the performance. Walking up to stand behind his desk, she met his gaze in the mirror with a smile barely noticeable in the haze of the dimly lit room.

Nihil meets her smile with one of his own, his hand deftly gripping the small liner brush to his left and dipping it into the black grease paint. His eyes pull away from hers with a small degree of difficulty, she notices, and looks towards the mirror and continues the small strokes across his lips, above the bow of his upper lip and ending at his full lower lip. Hands rise, resting on his shoulders as she leans slowly down. Sister smiles, pulling in his scent that was so delicately him. How he managed to smell like juniper and basil eluded her, Nihil even going to a point of going into another room to spray his cologne so she couldn’t see the bottle. (“A man has to have some sort of mystery, si?” He had laughed, and she responded with a scoff. It still didn’t stop her from scouring every perfume counter in every city to find it).

She leaned her cheek against his, his eyes still locked onto his visage in the mirror, but his hands had a perceptible shake to them. “Nervous?” Sister purred, her pink frosted nails tracing along the line of his black leather coat.

Her cheek pulled away from his, her lips turning to the shell of his ear. Her breath was soft and warm on his ear, a tickle against the skin of his neck that pulled the hair on end quicker than the cold outside. Even in a warm room, Sister made him feel as if he’d gone skinny dipping in November.

“No, I am not. Merely hot.” His voice was soft in the din of the crowded room. “You would think they would have another room to dress in, si ?” He smiled at her, adding a thicker line to balance the larger stripe alongside it. Her nails continue to trace along his collar, the soft pads on her finger edging along the skin of his neck. Dipping into the countours of his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple with a calculating grace. His breath was steady, but his eyes, not yet coated with black shadow, were lidded with a hazy fondness.

An excited yelp from the corner by Nihil’s own guitarist shocked her out of the moment, her hands quickly pulling away. NIhil’s smile dropped in disappointment, but it stilled as Sister’s hands returned to tug his collar closer together and quickly fasten a button.

“We have a budget, Papa.” Sister’s voice said softly, though it was said with such finality so as to stop the train of conversation from going any further. Nihil shrugged, setting down the smaller liner brush and reaching across the table for his loose powder. As he opened his mouth, she knew the attempt would go ignored.

He hummed, looking up at her with a playful smirk, “Oh? And our budget includes a new pair of pumps?” At that her smile becomes an even line, her thin eyebrows furrowing as the words drop from his lips. Of course he had to push too far. It wasn’t as though he didn’t understand the limits of their spending allowance. It didn’t stop him picking the most upscale restaurants in the area, loosening the buttons on his shirts as more and more drinks were sent to the table, the way his eyes roamed the women who passed by. To her annoyance, he had never noticed the way her hands gripped the stem of her wine glass with vitriol, how she met the gaze of every curious woman and turned their eyes away.

“Yes. Just as it apparently includes a new coat and- oh? What’s this?” Sister’s hands shot towards him, gripping his wrist with care. She held it with tightness, making sure not to hurt Nihil. Never hurt, she told herself. Sister’s eyes sparked with a curious viciousness, but her stomach burned with ire.

“A new watch? Where could you have possibly gotten this little gem?” She hummed similarly to his own playful song moments beforehand. If there was one thing Imperator could do, she could match someone’s game. In kindness or in truculence.

Nihil’s smile didn’t drop, but the kidnapped arm rose and cupped her cheek. She sighed, resisting the urge to lean into his palm. The hand remained around his wrist, but she let it it go somewhat lax. The thick curls of hair along his arms were soft, though the wiry swirls of hair along his stomach were similar but not quite so coarse. Her thumb rubbed along his wrist, a gentle back and forth.

“I want to look nice for you, Sister.” Nihil’s accent and the curiously odd intones of ‘Sister’ made her cheeks tighten with the urge to giggle, and the tight smile made Nihil’s lip lift even further.. “Do I not look nice for you? I try so hard, you know this.” He pouts, the pop of his lower lip making her smile spread further. Damn fool, she thought to herself. Was she speaking about herself, or Papa? She could parcel through these thoughts later in the obscured dark of the tour bus.

“You do.” Sister said in a low mumble. The way her stomach buzzed was unfamiliar, the compressed feeling around her lungs making it hard to conceive of any thought besides how Nihil smiled at her, the way his hand fit along her hip and how her hand had never felt so drawn to touch someone. His skin was so warm, a sunkissed tan that made her buzz with something unknown. Or maybe she had always known.

He pulled away, and she fought the urge to jump towards his arms again and pull him to her. No, she wouldn’t stoop to begging. He turned to the mirror, patting the powder into his lips. “Good! The crowd will love it, always so attentive. The doors are open after performances, as always.” His eyes gleamed, the devilish glow of his one white eye gleaming in the muted warmness of this damnedly hot room. Could it compare to the warmth in Sister Imperator’s chest?

The fuzziness she had felt moments earlier was extinguished in that single sentence, burned by the way she had to stop herself from reaching forward and throttling him right then and there. How stupid could a man be? She was stunned every single day by the utter idiocy of men, going from not knowing how to do laundry all the way to this. She let her face go blank, what other course of action was there? If she followed her emotions, Papa Nihil would be buried in a shallow grave behind this very club. To hold her in his hands, and then casually drop that he wanted to get his dick wet?

Satan, maybe she should have listened to her mother and just become a lesbian in Boston instead.

Sister straightened her posture. “Of course they’re always open.” she said coldly. Her hands folded in front of her. They’re always fucking open.

His eyes look towards her, the grin still on his face but his eyes speak of something she can’t pin. She turns around, pushing through the throng of bodies with the force needed. Nihil has the right to his body, just as she does to her own. She could find any man in this glorified venue, pull them into an alcove and possibly cum. There’s no guarantee of that, she thought, fighting back the mocking laugh that wanted to tumble out of her mouth.

But she won’t. She won’t do that.

_____________________

The crowd was loud, though the indescribable energy that had pulsed in the room minutes earlier had fallen as the show had come to a close. Sister Imperator looked from the wings, Nihil was glorious. Sweat dripped from his chin, his eye gleaming in the stage lights as he pranced along the edge of the stage. His shirt was unbuttoned, the ringlets of hair soaked under the fabric. His boots were clinking against the floor, the pointed tips tapping in a calculated rhythm. Women were lined along the edge, their hair curled and their lashes stark against pastel blues and blush pinks. Pink blush against dark skin, similar beads of sweat lining their cleavage that was oh so pointedly pushed forward. All for Nihil. And she knew that he knew, regardless of if he had made the asinine comments earlier.

She turned, walking along the dark corners. Stage hands were leisurely walking, some carrying side lights and some carrying cords, wrapped in loops and gingerly carried to storage closets nearby. She needed a cigarette before he came back there, shucking his coat off and waiting for women to fall to their knees before him, to curl up in his arms.

She felt the familiar burn in her stomach of anger, of envy. Where the hell did she put her handbag again? She slid along the walls, feeling her way through the dark as her boots clicked along the waxed floor. The burn of eyes along her legs made her grimace, one more nuisance to deal with. Being honest with herself, all she wanted right now was to be curled up in her blankets back at the hotel, pleasantly sated and sweaty, held in Nihil’s arms and dozing in the glow of the television set. But no, she had to see him go back to his room with one, if not several , women running their hands along his thin body.

She needed a cigarette.

The space opened, the stairs leading back to the green room intersection between a larger side door. She sighed, the flow of air leveling out in the space, away from sweaty rugged men. Reaching for the door, she felt the sweat at the nape of her neck go blessedly cold. A break was what she needed, it would be another hour or so before Sister had the opportunity to be completely alone with a nice glass of champagne. Damn it all, she’d pay for the room service her fucking self. The last thing she wanted after a night like this was the Clergy treasurer waking her up in the night wondering why they’d been notified by the hotel of another ‘useless’ purchase.

Imperator leaned against the wall, the high collar of her patterned dress constricting the skin around her neck. She was lucky she had done her hair so high, the beehive allowing her to feel the cold air on her skin as best as she could. As best as she could, the thought mocked her. Out of all the times Nihil had fucked her into the bed, it had been her controlling his moves. Grabbing him by the hair and moans punching out from his throat, riding him until he cried from the sheer ecstasy of the orgasms rung from his overextended body, sucking him down in the shitty tour bus bunks when the ghouls had finally taken the message and left. And here he was, leering over the edge of the stage like he called the shots.

Sister Imperator knew he couldn’t take initiative if it offered itself up with its legs spread. Why the hell would he start now, she lamented.

The door to her left opened, the conversation high and energetic. As the door opened, she met the gaze of three women. Their conversation halted, noticing the woman on their right. She doesn’t look at their clothes, what point does it serve? They’re back here now and have come for a reason. At one point, she had made a point to memorize what they wore. How their belts cinched their waists, how their breasts spilled softly from their blouses in an appealing display of warmth. Not that she stewed on it, she would just have a bartender conveniently card them, or they would just so happen to lose their tickets.

Her eyes meet with the first woman. She smiles, a warm if not curious smile. “Hey, sorry to bother, but could you point us in the direction of the dressing rooms?” Her smile is toothy, Imperator files this knowledge away.

Sister crosses her arms, steeling her features into a cold impasse. “No, they don’t have one.” Her voice is oppressive.

The other woman with a pale nude lip, stark against the darkness of her skin and softness of her cheeks blinks and screws her face in skepticism. The confusion is clear on her face. Here’s the thing about Sister Imperator: she doesn’t give two shits about her confusion. Sister is tired, her face baking under the powder she applied earlier that day, her feet burning from her platformed boots.

She’s not quite inclined to point these women towards Nihil and exclaim, “Here he is! His cock is always ready! Would you like condoms, or would you prefer to go raw? Both are enjoyable, I surely would know!”

At this point in the night, she’s far more inclined to being difficult.

“They don’t have a dressing room?” The first lady intones, her head tilting as she pouts in confusion.

“Precisely.” Sister says dryly, her eyes narrowing. Her arms, still crossed tightly, allow her to tap her fingers along her arm in impatience. The woman laughs, smiling at Sister. She clearly hasn’t caught on that Sister Imperator would rather be anywhere but here, especially in front of these other women.

“So does Papa just get changed in the hallways? That’d be a gas.” She giggles, leaning against the propped door. The other two women ignore her, exchanging a look that spelled their confusion more clearly than if they had spoken aloud.

Sister scoffs sarcastically, her lips lifting in sardonic aggression. “Yes, it surely would be.” The last thing she wanted was a conversation, just let her get her fucking cigarettes, go home and have a good cry away from where anyone could see her.

The woman smiles at her once more, looking forward and then turning her head back. “Do you know where he might actually be? We wanted to see him before we ditched here.”

Imperator can feel her smile tighten, shaking her head. Get the hint, lady, good fucking Lord. “He ditched earlier. You just missed him.” Her fingers still rap against her arm, the flickering lightbulb above making one of the other woman’s eye begin twitching. The toothy woman’s face falls, her smile twisting into a pout.

“Bummer.” She sighs, turning back to retreat back through the door. The third woman, her eyes narrowed, lets her eyes run over Sister’s appearance. She scoffs in dismissal, turning back. But before Sister can sigh in relief, her night continues its downward spiral into her own foray into the question of her own sanity.

The space is swallowed by the dark leather and painted face of Nihil himself, panting heavily. Though the sweat has been patted away from his face, his neck is red with exertion. Of fucking course. His eyes turned to her, and then to the three women currently staring at him with varying degrees of joy.

“Oh, hello!” Nihil chimes, his eyes flicking to Sister and then the women once more. “I do not think we have had the pleasure of meeting, no?” The women smile at him, the one in the front walking forward and daringly placing a hand on his arm.

“We were in the crowd, Papa. You were unreal!” She smiles at him, her toothy grin making his own smile widen. Sister watches as the other two women walk closer, closely inspecting his wide white eye that shined intriguingly off in the shaky light of the bulb above them.

“Your eye is so beautiful, how do you get it like that?” The woman’s nude lips are wide, her arms wrapped around herself in a way that allowed her to push her tits further together. Sister frowned, her stomach roiling with annoyance. Good grief, just get it over with. Have him grab you by the hips and fuck you in his hotel room, leave the next morning and giggle about it with your girlfriends.

“A gift, bella.” Nihil purred, his hand rising to cup the second woman’s face. Her eyes widen, her cheeks filling out with a flush as he giggles at her. As much as Sister wants to move, she can’t stop. She hadn’t been wooed, as much as she was loath to admit it. Always the one to walk forward first, she had led Nihil along like a puppy on a leash. Of course she loved it, admired how much he turned to her. Either for kindness or guidance, for a fuck on the road late at night, she remained. But had he ever cornered her backstage and let him lick the sweat from her neck without her gripping him by the lapel?

“A gift? Not meaning to bug out or anything, but the speech you gave on stage was unreal. We’d love to hear more.” Ah, the usual segue. Begging for guidance on the Old One’s beliefs and then fucking at his metaphorical altar. She didn’t care anymore, she couldn’t stand to listen. It was one thing to see it at the hotel last month, another to hear him imply it earlier, but she couldn’t take the scene in front of her.

Sister turned, pushing gently past the woman at his side and walking past the gaggle. She walks briskly down the way.

“Mi dispiace belle signore , but I am unfortunately on a tight schedule. Perhaps you could ask one of the ghouls? I’m sure they would be more than happy to speak to such pretty fanciulle.” She can hear the groans of the other women, and the click of their heels as they walk away. The urge to pause and look is strong, but who knows why he did it? Nihil could have already got his rocks off with someone on the way, or the chance of another rendezvous already scheduled. Fool her once, shame on you. Fool her twice, shame on her. She’s already gotten through a third time, and a fourth would just be pathetic.

She turns the corner to the dressing room, thankfully clear. The packing up tended to go quicker than setting up, so hopefully things were going to plan. Sister still needed to check in, but first she wanted a damn cigarette. She walks across the room, leaning against the couch and looking behind where she had kept it. A growl released from her throat, couldn’t she have anything go right tonight? She wouldn’t cry. She knew better than that. But the tightness in her throat was beginning to hurt, the anger from earlier receding. And the sickly green feeling in the pit of her stomach was back, mocking and ugly.

A knock behind her, soft and gentle. She didn’t turn, knowing the click of his boot heels as familiar as her childhood home doorbell.

“Tesoro?” A soft voice calls into the room, loud in the now silent room. Warm earlier with the countless bodies, the lack makes her skin cold under the long draped sleeves of her mini dress. Even adverse to the company of others, she wishes that someone was here to pillow the moment with a stranger's presence.

“There’s no need to speak so quietly, Papa. We’re the only two here.” Sister says plainly, pushing the emotion out of her voice. All of this because of jealousy towards some fan? Out of all the shows she could have gotten upset over, this is the one? How demeaning.

“I am aware we’re alone. I see you after all my shows, yes?” She doesn’t turn to look at him, but his hands come to her hips behind her. Imperator stills, the hot sticky feeling in her stomach still there. Why couldn’t she just let it go? Out of all the times she had seen the way he acted, why is now the time she chose to turn her back?

“Not all of them.” The accusation hangs in the air, Nihil’s hands tight on her hips through the silk of the dress. The heat of his palm almost scalds her, he burns as hot as the sun, a constant inferno that scorches her when she touches him. It burrows into her flesh, finding nirvana in the way he fits inside her. The thought is swiftly cut off as he sighs into her ear, the shell warming with the outtake of breath. She doesn’t move.

“Si, not all of them. Concerts can be stressful, after parties and such. But do I not come back to your bed?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Imperator yanked herself out of his grip. She walks across the room, looking into the dressers of the cabinet for her purse. She could just get her purse and walk out, back to the hotel. As soon as this Ghost Project was over, she could go back to her comfortable office and deal with this from the back burner. No more Nihil, no more bastard children, no more goddamned groupies.

“Indeed you do.” The words grind out of her mouth like a knife on stone, slamming the drawer closed and straightening up from where she had been crouched down. The heels click against the floor quickly, and she gasps once she feels the warmth of his torso pushed against hers, her back pushed against the dresser quickly. She can feel the ledge of the small desk pushed against the small of her back. Sister looks up towards him, the placid look on her face crumbling into something sour, and surly, and she has to stop herself from pushing him away and leaving without her purse.

The words had never been said aloud by her. Late nights where she imagined Nihil fucking her with abandon, taking her from behind and treating her like one of the sweet little things that came to pray at his altar. It lingered in the atmosphere until she saw a scene like earlier, like a rubber band being pulled tighter and tighter until the middle burned hot from heat. White hot heat settled in between the space between her and Nihil, in the impasse of their stares. Always looking, across a room or when she kissed the overstimulated tears from below his eyes in the night.

There is understanding finally in his eyes. The crystal clear realization that maybe his actions did matter, through the smoke and haze of the lights above him as he sang and crooned to women who had never even conceptualized an existence beyond a white picket fence. Maybe he had finally crossed the line that had always been there.

(Maybe, everything has always been filled with maybes between the two of them).

“ Innamorata… Maybe I have not been so attentive.” He says softly, his gaze never wavers. That infernal eye never moves from its impassive gaze. His hands grip her waist, and she glares. She feels it like a warm hand against her throat, and she banishes the thought.

“Attentive? There are things you want… an inexperienced fuck in a cheap hotel room with a fan that doesn’t even know where her clit is. By all means, go for it.” She spits out, the words scraping out of her throat by the fine edge of a knife: the same knife has plunged into her back countless times during this tour. Pardoned by their own lord, sanctified in blood and sin, and here they were.

“Oh? You think I don’t smell it, tesoro? It’s dripping off of you.” His hand slides from her hip to her cunt, a gasp ripping itself from her throat as he cups it softly through her dress. She knows him, knows the way his eye glows, the way his cock is pressed against her leg and how it throbs hot, hard, natural. Oh, and it feels good. Feels, she finds, even better as he rubs the palm of his hand against it.

“Dripping off of you, dripping out of you? I can think of many things I want to fill you with.” Nihil chisels a space into the emptiness between them, rasping out a groan into her neck as the silk of her dress catches on slick between her legs. She should push him away, but it feels too good to have him take the lead. It’s burning, hotter than the fires of hell they pledge to have when they leave this mortal plane. When it all burns down, it is always captivating and aposematic.

Through the back and forth of his hand Imperator can feel him lean forward, his mouth latching onto the soft molten skin of her neck. He lifts his other hand not busied with the soft skin below, grabbing the burning flesh of her breast. She has to stop this, take control. She isn’t a woman begging to be let backstage, flashing her tits at the bouncer and hoping that he’ll press his face between her legs. His mouth is an ember compared to the blaze in his eyes, lavascapes in the stark whiteness of blue and white. She could burn, she realized, but she leans into the hand pressing into her softest places.

Papa’s mouth is soft against the dewy skin of Sister’s neck, the paint so delicately applied earlier is no doubt a parting gift against the paleness of her skin. His breath ghosts against her skin, pulling away. And she pouts at the loss, ichor rushing through her veins. She never quite understood the meaning of hunger until she met Nihil, a hunger for a man and not power. He rips open a vacuum inside of her, a festering hole that is utterly insatiable. A constant ache that drives her delirious with the urge to consume him with her gaping maw. Rapacious charm, never full.

“How long have you wanted this? For me to take you like a slut?” The words drag over his tongue, and she’s alarmed by the moan pushing its way from her mouth. No, this has never happened. A step closer, her blood burns. The green feeling in her stomach has uprooted itself, destroyed in the endless warmth of his gaze. From where it had been clotted in her throat, for months upon months on tour, and it’s gone.

He smiles, leaning down and finally taking her mouth in his. His lips are firm, pressing against hers with a deliberate force that she hasn’t experienced. Is this what these women have been packing at the door for? They had surely kissed, but it was her biting and forcing her way into the soft cavern of his mouth. But at this moment, his mouth doesn’t rest. She presses against him, her arms reaching around his neck and pulling him closer. Her hands shake around his neck, the pulsing of wetness and warmth between her legs dizzying. It jars her, head gummy and full of sin. These women wanted this.

Their mouths press together, Nihil’s tongue pushing against hers in a sloppy push and pull of slickness. He tastes like sin, cigarettes and the heady tang of peppermint gum. He’s rough, a palpable hunger that pulls the last threads of jealousy from her mind. Papa pulls away, his eyes sharper than Sister had ever seen them. A yawning abyss of knowledge, and then she remembers. Women came to him for a reason, an unknown that would snap at the tips of their fingers if they got too close. And Nihil smiles, his hips pushing against hers and a sigh falling past his parted lips. It’s messy, adrenaline from onstage clearly pulsing through the fog of his mind.

“Do I interest you? Is that why you haven’t set me aside?” His voice is harsh, his eyes lidded and heavy.

“I could ask the same.” Her head is a slurry of pleasure, her clit throbbing where it meets the harsh bulge of his cock and the back and forth of silk against her body. It’s messy, less defined than anything she had ever allowed to happen. The backstage fumblings of curious women and-

“Shush.” He makes a noise, condescending and somehow sweet like a cocktail at the dingy bars they had performed at. It punches into her, makes her gasp. Her hips stutter, she’s never seen a sight more damning. If she had been more stupid, she could imagine herself in a crowd. Peering up at him, a smile tugging at her lips and watching him thrust against the mic stand. And by Satan, she realizes it. The brutality of it makes her crush her lips against his, tongue sliding against the wetness of his own slippery muscle. There is embarrassment of course, and there is shame. But she wants it, the horrible emptiness inside of her that wants to let him treat her like a slut. A groupie begging on her knees, her back, for his tongue and cock to complete her.

His hands return to her hips, lifting her onto the desk without breaking the kiss. The embers spar, blazing, when he deepens the kiss and presses the bulge of his cock into her pussy. She shivers, a whole body chill that has her breaking the kiss and moaning into the air. “Please.” It’s a plea, a whimper that she has never once spoken aloud to Nihil. And the way he chuckles, biting her lip with ravenous hunger that reminds her of the blood that courses through his veins, has her pushing back against him. She can’t resist, she wouldn’t even try.

“Oh, please?” His voice sings, a derisive coo that makes her keen. He pulls back, his hands lifting her dress to reveal the pale pink briefs beneath. Nihil crouches, kneeling before her and running his hands over her soft thighs. A sigh, and a kiss pressed against the pliable porcelain before him. He had spent hours before, his head pressed between her thighs while she gripped his hair in a domineering grip as she took her pleasure from him. But now simply gripped the edges of the table, her wide eyes meeting his as he grazes his knuckles against the soft skin. Nihil sighs, shaking his head.

“Have you thought about my head between their legs, tesoro?” The question is clipped, a grin on his face as he lets his palm glide up and down her legs. A hesitant nod, and her legs quake as Papa Nihil presses a kiss to her inner thigh. He lathes his tongue over the small scar at the influx of her thigh. Another whimper pours out as he peppers kisses against her, and she can’t tear her eyes away from his cocky grin. She should hate this, should be pulling him away and reprimanding him for taking control. But with the way he grips her thighs and the way she drips onto the table, she knows she loves this. Sister mewls as Nihil inches further, his eyes meeting her own.

“I will take my pleasure from you the same as I do from them.” He murmurs, his mouth latching onto her skin. Her hands grip into the desk tightly, keening as he meets her gaze. “A powerful woman, la mia dea. But a slut all the same, begging for my cock.” He growls, and she moans as he presses the flat arch of his painted nose against her clit, his tongue tracing circles into the slickness of her pussy.

Moans fill the silence of the room, muffled groaning and the slick movement of his mouth against her creating a back and forth cacophony of sin. Nihil’s hands against her thighs continue their back and forth as he takes his fill, his eyes closed in satisfaction. Sister whines as the sucking against her clit intensifies, his tongue swiping against her entrance. The hand against her leg moves, a finger dropping and dipping lightly at her dripping cunt, lightly swirling around the slickness collecting there. She bites her lip, catching the moan that bubbles out of her throat at the way he slurps at her cunt.

His eyes shoot open, meeting her own with his mismatched gaze. He pulls back, his mouth unlatching from her pulsing clit while his fingers continue toying with her. “Don’t keep your noises from me, I want to hear.” Papa’s finger slides inside, and Sister chokes out a gasp. “Do you think these women hold back their pleasure? Have you not pulled similar noises from me while you choke down my cock, tesoro? ” She should be angry, she thinks to herself, but she can hardly think after he pushes two fingers into her utterly drenched entrance. He grazes a knuckle against a spot inside her, a high moan punching out of her throat as her walls flutter around him.

“Nihil, I-” Sister Imperator gasps, her lips swollen and her lipstick rubbed off even earlier than now. He pulls his fingers away, and she moans in complaint. His eyes blaze with ire, his frown making her stomach clench in distraught anticipation. He rubs his fingers over her entrance, toying with the slick collected there.

Nihil shakes his head, pressing a chaste kiss to her clit. “That is not my name. What am I called?” She whines, thinking back to the times they’ve fucked. It had been either Nihil, slut, or even my love. Never had it been-

“Papa.” She whispers, his lips raising in appreciation. To everyone else, it’s Papa. His fingers slide back inside, the curls of his breath over her soaked pussy making her eyes roll back. Her hair knocking against the wall was probably a mess, her once perfect beehive now more of a honeycomb. While his tongue sucks against her raised clit, his fingers continue to coax burning pleasure that made her thighs shake. She can feel her lips are bitten raw, her knees pressed against her chest and exposing herself to him entirely. She should blush, she’s sure everyone else does, but his huffs and moans of pleasure persuade her to moan.

She whimpers, and all thoughts are stuck in the burning mess in her head, rendered out into ashes and into cries for Papa, for more. It’s all a puddle of bliss, including her. His fingers brush against a spot inside that makes her cry out, a wail that she’s sure can be heard outside of the room. The thought is knocked out of her head as the pads of his fingers bump into it again, coupled with Papa’s tongue swiping against her bud. Oh, how she needed this, for him to just show that he knew how to please.

She feels his lips curl against her clit and a muffled chuckle that makes her gasp, Coy, sweet, the type of mocking grin that he shot the crowd at the end of his show. He pulls back, fingers pistoning against her fluttering pussy, “Are you going to cum already, cara ? I thought you were a seasoned slut, opening your legs for any man with an ounce of talent?” He chuckles darkly, timbre drenched in sex and promise. She grits her teeth, eyes narrowing in a defiant glare that dissolves as he begins to softly lap at her clit. Sister wants to scoff, to roll her eyes but the breadth of his shoulders spreading her legs wide and the ministrations on her cunt cut the words on her tongue short.

He circles her clit with the tip of his tongue, lapping softly and moaning against it as he closes his eyes. The makeup around his mouth is smeared, his lips shining with her slick and his spit. His mouth is molten, and she can feel her weeping hole clench around his fingers. It’s hot, the high collar of her dress collecting sweat. It’s messy, the opposite of the nakedness she was used to with him. Debauched, wanton, desperate for him. The desperation is tangible.

“Show me how much you want my cock.” He growls into her cunt, nuzzling his cheek into her thigh as his fingers increase their speed. Imperator moans, her thighs shaking as she feels her climax approach much more quickly than usual. At the speed of his fingers, she can feel the delicious burn of pleasure that nears so deliciously into pain, a wire pulled taut and begging to be released. She arches, canting her hips greedily into his mouth. If he weren't so intent on making her cum, she’s sure he would be grinning like the damn dirty tease he is.

A particular curl of his fingers sends her over the edge, his tongue laving over her clit and his fingers fucking dangerously harshly against the sweet spot inside of her that has her choking out a moan. She can feel the rings of cum wetting her thighs, the spit that coats her lower half. She can’t help but whimper when she crests the wave, an embarrassing litany of pleads for her Papa, a melted husk of a woman drunk on the high of her orgasm.

Sister can feel the way he presses kisses into her thighs, the way his fingers have been pulled out of her and she cries at the need for him inside of her. Nothing where she rides him for control, where he begs and whimpers for her to let him cum. She lets her eyes fall open, a quavering moan from her mouth whenever she witnesses him suck her cum from his fingers. His eyes blaze as he stands above her, his mouth stretched wide into a grin that makes her heart swell.

Sister’s eyes flick down, where his bulge pushes against the black leather of his bellbottoms. Her hands shoot forward and reach for the laces, if not a bit clumsily trying to pick apart the laces. She knows he aches for it, and can feel him twitching against the confines of his trousers. His hand drops down, and Papa smiles down at her with a fond, if not condescending, smirk.

Her hands pull the laces apart, a joined moan between the two of them as his swollen cock pops out. The head of his cock is red, smeared with sticky spend at the tip that aids her as she begins to pump him leisurely. He sighs, a hand gathering in her hair as she looks up at him. “You do such a good job pleasing Papa, you know?” She nods quickly, her hand not slowing. Just as she finds a rhythm, his hands have shot out to stop her. The hardness of his cock in her hand makes the emptiness inside her known, aching even. He steps between her legs, craning her head upward towards him.

“Will you let Papa fuck you?” He whispers, stepping forward to rub his cock against her soaked folds. A whine forces its way from her throat. God, she just wants him, any way at any time. To say she’s been denying it would be an understatement. She needed him, wanted him near her always. It’s easy to worship him, she thinks to herself through the delirious haze of his weight against her cunt. Easy to kiss offerings into his skin, sing a hymn of praise into the dips of his neck.

“Yes, Papa.” A whisper, heavy and breathless. The way she addresses him makes him moan helplessly, and there’s nowhere else to burn eternally than with one another. Leaning closer, the head of his cock nudges inside her, popping in with such ease that it makes the both of them pause in the sheer buzz of skin on skin. Sister leans back, allowing herself to moan as she feels the heavy weight of him inside her. Nihil chokes on his gasp, pushing slowly inside of her. The head of his dick pushing against something soft in her cunt that makes her clench around him with a whimper.

The cloying feeling of him on top of her, inside her, makes her keen. Why had she fought this for so long, for the treatment he gave other women? The very feeling of him inside her is dizzying, the way he hovers above her with a self satisfied smile makes her match it. The fuzzy feeling in her stomach returns, her heart lifting from the well it had drifted to earlier. Control was something she had vied for, and couldn't let go. The ebb and sway of how he would let her control him, and this is where he got his kicks. Maybe now he could find his respite within her as well.

Nihil moans, rolling his hips into hers in a way that makes her eyes roll back. The thrusts are slow, a back and forth that knocks the air from her lungs in the most delicious way. Each time he retreats he comes back home, the tip of his cock kissing the place inside of her that makes her legs lock around his waist tightly. Strings of pleasure lick up her spine, her nipples hard underneath the fabric of her dress. She can smell the heady smell of sex in the air, the wetness between the two of them slick in the cool air of the dressing room. Maybe everyone would hear, hear how he fucked her like a woman, like any woman out there in the crowd.

His hair is soft beneath her hands, moussed from the sweat of the stage and his lingering adrenaline and the many times she had already gripped it in the space between the two of them.

“So good for me, you take me so well Sister,” He whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss against her lips in a salacious lick against bitten lips. He tips his head forward as Sister clenches around him, his thrusts grinding his cock into her pussy in a way that makes white hot pleasure tickle her spine. She combs over his face, his perfectly debauched makeup sliding down the smoothness of his skin. A thought passes about what he may look like when he’s older, how the makeup will pool in a similar way perhaps.

As she clenches around him his dick twitches in agreement, his eyes lidded in pleasure as he continues to fuck her. A hazardous grin spreads across his smeared lips when he catches her gaze, his eyes sweeping over her bent form as he continues to fuck her, spread out and stretched over his thick cock. Anyone can hear her, she realizes, can hear how badly she wants her Papa to fill her cunt, to make her cum, how good he is at making women achieve hedonistic pleasure. A star frontman, an experienced lover.

He grins, and she can feel his cock brush against a soft spot inside of her that makes her positively wail. His hand drops from where it’s clenched around her thigh, thumb swiping over her clit and she groans, needy and breathless. Sister’s hips work with his own, Nihil’s hips knocking against the silky walls of her cunt. His head brushes deep, her back arching in pleasure that makes her quiver in a profoundly intense ache. As his hand works over her throbbing clit and his hips batter against the meat of her ass, Nihil leans over. A kiss pressed to her neck, a stream of moans into her ear dredged up from a place of love and desperation.

“Will you cum for me?” A whisper into her ear, a fervent nod answered back. Her heart flutters, a taut softness as she feels her toes curl. It pinches taut as he angles his hips, tendrils of pleasure as he pushes his cock further in. In a moment like this, she couldn’t give a damn about a groupie, some faithless devotee. The devotion is right here and right now, between the one at the altar and the abnormality present.

“Please. I want to be your whore,” Sister whispers, haze filling the curtain of her gaze as she feels the pleasure ratcheting higher and higher. Papa Nihil feels similarly, she knows this, the desperate high moans against her neck as he visibly fights the urge to call out for her like normal.

A vicious swipe against her clit sends her over, liquid bliss spuming deep within her and setting her off. The rhythmic clenching of her softness around his cock makes him gasp, his breath choked in her throat as he cums deep inside her. She sighs, eyes slipping closed as he sighed against her neck. Her hands rose to his back, slow careful swipes of her hands on his shirt as he heaved for air.

The air was warm, and she could feel their shared spend dripping down from her hole onto the floor. The sickly green feeling in her stomach was gone, filled with the deliciously delightful feeling of Nihil in her arms, his hands warm against her waist. When he quiets by the end of her gentle petting, the mushy misty eyed look in her eyes won’t leave. An odd juxtaposition for a woman who could bring Nihil down to size in a matter of moments.

“You don’t suppose I could have a cigarette after this?” She mumbled, smiling softly as she heard a muffled laugh against her neck. Pulling back, they looked at one another. His makeup was ruined, as was hers most likely. Though they still had the drive back to the hotel to fare with, nothing delighted her more than knowing she could curl up in bed delightfully moisturized and nestled against Nihil. And looking into his eyes, she knew he was just as enchanted at the ending of their night together. His hand drifted to her cheek, his eyes soft in a way that made her stomach flip.

“Never again, Genevieve. I promise.” And she knew he wasn’t talking about cigarettes. He whispered, a delicate kiss pressed against the tip of her nose. His hand was warm, and she leaned into the soft embrace of it against her dreadfully sweaty cheek. Although her heart jumped at her given name, the irony of it in her current religion a mockery to her sensibilities, Sister sighed.

The sickly feeling of envy an ever looming fear now, she knew she could push through. Though he had two children now, the fear of a third, even a fourth was gone. He was hers, and she was his, even through the possibility of another Prime Mover. Satan forbid a groupie try to coax their way into his pants in the future.

The thought passed with a drop of disdain in her eyes, and a smile making its way onto her kiss swollen lips. All these months of sweat soaked nights on a bumpy bus, a hand held out in a busy afterparty, the soft breath against her neck as she held him close. A hand held in another hand with care, with no fear to be found.

“Of course. Never again.”

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