#crimson really should have known

[drama-glob]

I know there’s being so rich you get to do whatever you want and no one can tell you no, but the fact the Chaz showed up to the wedding in a tuxedo T-shirt should have been a big red flag to Crimson that he wasn’t rich. -_- XD

*I get that Crimson was super desperate for money, but come on man. >_<

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 40: Where Do We Go From Here?

Summary: Things aren't going as smoothly as anyone would like. Maybe they can fix it. Maybe they can't.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,723 words

Warnings: Angst, discussion of nightmares, PTSD, discussion of death and killing people, emotions, so many emotions, angst, a little sliver of comfort

A/N: And it is back!! not super proud of this one but I'm starting out on a filler so...yeah. Really just setting up for the next part where some action starts again. You'll see. Anyway, glad to be back at it and I hope you enjoy!

11/30/24: **This chapter has been edited and rewritten from its original version**

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John stands at the door, gazing out at the yard. It’s pouring rain, dumping buckets on the roof. The water has pooled on the planks of the deck, splattering with every big drop that pours from the sky. The weather once again mirrors your mood, your sobs audible from your room over the pounding on the roof. 

John holds his mug in his hands, staring at the reflection in the window. Kyle and Johnny are sitting on the couch, both looking like kicked puppies. They’re itching to enter your room and go comfort you, but they’ve been kicked out for now. You’re not in the state of mind to be around any of them right now, no matter how badly your sobs tear at their heartstrings. 

You haven’t been in that state of mind for a few hours now. 

Whatever nightmare had plagued your mind last night, it was particularly awful. You’ve been up since the early hours, waking from a nightmare with a terrified scream that had continued until Kyle finally got you to stop and breathe. His ears are still ringing with it, his mind still pulsing with that fear. Something happened. Someone got in. Someone hurt you. 

Nothing happened. No one got in.  

The only threat was still just in your mind. 

Graves. 

He knows that’s at least part of your nightmares. Christine had disclosed that to him quietly on the side. Even she doesn’t know everything that plagues your dreams, but Graves seems to be a common specter in the darkness of your mind. 

It makes his blood boil, and not just out of anger for what Graves did to you. 

It boils with anger at himself too. 

It’s his fault you’re in this state in the first place. He should have known, he should have seen, he should have suspected. He should have never left you there. You should have been his priority over anything else. 

How badly he’s failed you. 

He lets out a sigh, turning away from the window to move over to the couches. He sinks down with a sigh, resting his elbows on his knees. The little progress you’ve made has regressed with this new string of nightmares, the fear pushing you further and further back into your mind. He’s resolved himself to only get worried when Christine is worried, and right now she’s beginning to look worried. If you regress back again, the chances of bringing you out of that are slim. Sure, there are plenty of options to help, but you have to want them to help. 

He knows exactly what will help, you just don’t want it. 

He runs a hand through his hair as your sobs begin to quiet. It’s longer than he’s let it get for a long time. They’re all a bit scraggly and ragged looking, worn down and lazy now that there’s no strict rules guiding their lives. None of them quite know what to do outside of the regulations they’ve spent the better parts of their lives living under. He’s been in the military longer now than he hasn’t, and he’s been finding himself itching for that structure again. He can never bring himself to relax and put the job aside even on leave. He only takes it when he has to and usually spends it training and keeping his skills sharp. 

Now...now things have changed. 

They have no return now. There’s no clear, set time that they have to return to base. They can’t return to base. It would leave them too open to a possible retaliation from Shepherd. They were betrayed by one of their own already, who's to say someone else wouldn’t be just as eager to become a traitor for a chunk of cash? They’re not even truly safe here. 

How are they going to go back to base after this? Can he bring himself to take you back there, a place you never felt comfortable in the first place? 

Where do they go from here? 

He’s been trying not to think too much about it. That’s a dilemma for a different day. That’s thinking too far ahead. Day by day is as far as he dares to take it now. 

The door closes quietly, John’s head lifting to watch Christine as she approaches the couch. There’s a slump to her shoulders, something that’s been getting lower and lower as the days have progressed. She’s struggling with this just as much as they all are. 

She sinks down on the couch, letting out a long breath. Your sobs have quieted, no sound coming from the room now. The silence is almost eerie after days of constant sounds, good and bad, from your room. You were doing better. You were looking more alive and well. 

Then this happened. 

“She’s asleep.” Christine says, her voice strained. “Finally calmed down enough to nap.” She covers her eyes with a hand, sitting there still for a moment. 

“The nightmares?” John asks, glancing at Christine out of the corner of his eye. 

“Worse.” She says, her gaze far away. “She's remembering what happened.” 

John stares at Kyle and Johnny for a moment, the betas returning his worried gaze.

“Those shadows she killed...” Johnny says.

Christine nods. “She's, uh, not taking it well.” 

John runs a hand over his face. He knew it was possible you'd start to remember what happened during the time your omega took control. It wouldn't remain a dark spot forever, though he hoped it would. The things you were forced to do are coming to light now, the things you did to survive because they failed you. Taking the life of someone who deserves it is nothing to them. Taking the life of someone who would take yours just as quickly isn't so much as a second thought. 

You're not like them. 

You've never had to face that reality before, and you shouldn't have had to. 

“One of us should talk to her.” Kyle says.

“I don't think that's the best idea right now.” Christine shakes her head. “She's...regressed a bit. Pushing that on her, while well intentioned, might do more harm than good...” she trails off, her gaze still far away. 

The three of them sit there, waiting for what she’s going to say next. He’s not even sure Johnny or Kyle are breathing as they wait patiently for whatever solution Christine might be able to come up with, whatever move she thinks is the best one to take next. 

“I want to take her out.” Christine says. 

“What?” John asks in surprise. 

“She needs to get out of the house. It’s not doing any of us any good sitting in here all day.” She rubs her eyes. “She expressed interest in going for a walk a couple days ago. She needs to get up and moving, start regaining some of her strength.” 

John lets out a breath leaning back against the couch. He’s tempted to say no. His knee jerk reaction is to refuse. The world outside isn’t safe. If anyone is watching, if anyone sees them...

There’s always going to be that risk though, and Christine is right. Sitting in the house all day isn’t doing any of them any good. They’re at the mercy of the rain, but even then, he doubts it will keep any of them trapped inside for long. 

“When the rain clears up.” He finally says. “We'll discuss it more. But, I think that might be a good idea.” 

“What can we do?” Kyle asks, staring at Christine. 

She lets out a sigh, covering her eyes with her hand. “I don’t know. I’ve helped hundreds of omegas in crisis and yet I don’t know why this case is so hard.” 

“This has become more personal than those cases.” John says. 

Christine’s shoulders slump even more. “I know. I try so hard but she’s just so...different from other omegas.” 

“This entire situation is different from what you’ve done before.” Kyle says. 

“You’re right.” Christine sighs. “The best we can do is let her lead. Do what she needs, give her what she wants. The worst thing that can happen right now is regression. If she regresses too far, we might never get her back.” 

“What is it? Tell me what ye need.” 

“Can you make me forget?” 

“I wish I could.” 

“Hit me hard enough on the head I might forget everything. Then we can all just start over.” 

“That’s not funny.” 

“It wasn’t supposed to be.” 

“Kitten,” Johnny sighs, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I wish I could make those thoughts go away. I wish I could make them mine.” 

“I killed people.” 

“I know.” He reaches out, touching your hand. “I wish ye didnae have to. Ye were just defending yerself. Those Shadows would have done worse to ye if ye hadn’t.” 

You curl up in your chair, turning away from him. “That’s not helpful.” 

“Sorry.” He says, letting out another sigh. “We just want to help ye.” 

You’re silent for a moment, sitting there listening to the waves. It’s cold this morning, not even the thick blanket draped over you offering much respite. It’s the first morning it hasn’t poured rain in days and you were determined to take full advantage of it despite the objections of your pack. 

“I know.” You finally say, staring out at the grey clouds looming on the horizon. The rain will return, just like the dark thoughts constantly swirling in your mind. They make you sick, nausea constantly churning in your stomach and threatening to rise. 

Johnny wraps his hand around yours, his palm warm against your cold skin. “Should head inside. Gonnae catch a cold.” 

“You know that’s a myth right?” You say, tilting your head to stare at him. 

“No it’s not.” He says, pulling your hand between his. “It’s not good for ye being out in the cold.” 

“I’ll live.” You say, trying to pull your hand from his, but he holds you firm. He’s stubborn, but so are you. 

“Kitten...” He says, almost whining at you. “Go inside please.” 

You let out a sigh, staring out at the horizon again. The clouds promise more rain soon, another downpour on its way. You hate it, how much it’s been raining. You just want to be outside, down at the beach, going on walks. Your pack won’t let you though, not while it’s raining, even though they often leave no matter the weather. 

It’s not fair. 

You’re not a fragile flower and you’re tired of being treated that way. Even though your brain feels like it’s in a blender constantly. Even though the pain of what happened still drives into you like a knife, you just want to be treated like a normal human being again. 

“Fine.” You sigh, pushing yourself up to stand. “I’ll go inside.” 

Johnny grabs your arm before you can head back in the door. “Ye know we just want the best for you.” 

You stare at him for a long moment, emotions swirling in your mind. They are trying. You’ll give them that credit. They’re trying, but not hard enough. “What you think is best and what’s actually best isn’t always the same.” 

He looks like a kicked puppy as he lets you go. You turn away before you can feel guilty, heading back inside the cottage. 

You pull the blanket tighter around you as you stare at the flickering flames in the hearth. The heat is intense so close, but it’s warming the chill under your skin. It’s getting colder at night, foretelling the upcoming winter. All the blankets in the world couldn’t fight off the chill that’s settled in you at night. You know what might help, but you’re not brave enough to approach that solution. 

The footsteps on the stairs don’t startle you in the otherwise silent house, the creak of them audible over the crackle of the logs in the fire. 

“I’d add another one.” A voice says from behind you. 

“I’m going to.” You say, reaching for the stack next to the fireplace. 

“Careful. Put it on the side.” 

“I know how to make a fire, thank you.” You snap, shoving the log in before moving it into place with the poker. “I’m not useless.” 

“Didn’t mean to imply you were.” It’s silent for a moment as you settle back into place. “What are you doing out here?” 

“I’m cold.” You answer simply, not feeling up to giving an entire expose on your current state of mind to the person you want to speak to the least right now. 

“We can turn the heat up more.” John says. “Whatever you want to be more comfortable.” 

I want you to leave. You bite your lip, suddenly not brave enough to say it out loud. 

They are trying. 

“Why are you down here?” You ask instead. 

“Couldn’t sleep so I came to get a snack.” He says. “You want anything?” 

“No.” You say quickly, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. “I’m alright.” 

“You sure?” He presses, standing off to your right. 

You hesitate for a moment, curling your toes under the blanket as one of the logs snaps. It’s not food you need from him. Your appetite has decreased again with this new wave of horrible things plaguing your mind. You want answers. 

“I want to know why you decided to leave, why you went on that mission and left me when you knew things were not right.” 

John shifts on his feet behind you, the wood floor creaking just slightly. He’s silent for a long moment, so long you almost think he’s walked away. 

“I was too trusting. I got caught up in the mindset of a soldier and chose to trust my superiors when I knew I shouldn’t have. I wanted to send you somewhere else, to stay with Kate, but things didn’t work fast enough to make that possible. I shouldn’t have just left you there, even with Johnny and Simon. It’s the worst mistake I’ve ever made.” 

Tears burn your eyes as you stare into the fire. At least he knows he made a mistake. At least he thought up other plans, but that doesn’t excuse the fact he did nothing and just left you there so easily. 

Another question burns at the forefront of your mind. You think back to that conversation with Dr. Keller just a few days ago. You want to trust her, you know you can trust her. She’s given you no reason not to. She wouldn’t lie, even if the rest of your pack did. 

“You really didn’t leave me with Graves?” The words slip out before you can stop them, spilling forth from your lips, revealing part of those inner thoughts that have plagued you for the last few hours. 

“I would never have left you with him.” John says, the floorboards creaking as he takes a couple steps forward. “As soon as we found out we turned around and went to Kate’s safehouse. She was already looking for you. We did everything in our power to find you as quickly as we possibly could.” 

The tears start sliding down your cheeks as you sit there, taking in his words. They’re spoken with such conviction and match what Dr. Keller had told you. Some deep, dark part of your brain wants to think it’s all a lie that they’ve conjured to try and make you feel better about everything, to try and jumpstart the healing process. Yet, at the same time you want to believe they are telling the truth. 

Your other option is to trust Phil and what he said to you. For all you know, everything he said was a lie. Some sick justification to torture you as some kind of revenge towards your pack. Maybe it was all about revenge. 

Who can you trust more? Phil, or your alpha. 

Maybe if you had just held on a little bit longer. Maybe if you hadn’t believed Phil’s lie, you could have saved yourself the terror of letting your omega take over. Maybe you wouldn’t have had to take that risk and corrupt yourself with blood-stained hands. From what you can remember and have managed to weasel out of Dr. Keller, they were right behind you. A few more minutes and maybe none of it would have had to happen. 

Maybe you did do the right thing in the end. Phil might have ordered his men to kill you as soon as they arrived. Maybe they would have done it as soon as Simon and Johnny entered the room. Saving yourself might have been your only option. 

Those men would have killed you or worse. You did what you had to do. 

You’re shaking. The tears are cascading down your cheeks, warmed by the heat of the fire. You’re crying, your breaths nearly hyperventilating as you sob quietly. 

“Talk to me.” John says as he kneels down beside you. 

“I can’t do this.” You whisper, your knuckles white where they’re gripping the edges of the blanket. The words are coming out and you can’t stop them. Maybe it’s because deep down you remember the better times, when he was a comfort. Someone you could trust to catch you when you fall. “I keep seeing them, seeing what I did, what happened. I killed people.” 

“People that would have killed you without a second thought.” He says. “You were defending yourself in a situation where that was unavoidable. It’s not your fault. None of it is.” 

“She scares me, my omega.” Your inhale stutters. “She’s angry. She won’t settle. I’m scared I’m going to lose control and she’ll come out again.” 

“You’re not going to lose control.” John says. Despite the heat of the fire you’re not much warmer, a cold chill shooting through your veins. “If it were to happen, we’re right here. We’ll get you through it.” 

You stare into the flickering flames, your breaths slowly coming back down to normal. John sits there, as still as a tree. You don’t want him so close to you, yet you can’t deny how comforting his presence is. For the first time in a while you don’t feel quite so out of control.

“Can we ever move past this?” You ask, your voice quiet and broken.  

“I like to think we can.” John says. “It won’t be easy, but if that’s what you want, we sure as hell will work to make it happen. Things won’t go back to the way they were, and they shouldn’t. You deserve better than what we gave you.” 

You don’t respond because you can’t. His words float around in your mind, replaying over and over. You want to believe him. You desperately want to believe him, but a deep part of you can’t. He’s made promises before and then broke them. How can you trust this time will be different? 

The creak of the stairs wakes you. It’s jarring, pulling you out of a sleep you didn’t know you were in. You’re on the couch in the living room, bundled under a blanket with a decorative pillow under your head. You don’t remember moving to the couch. The fire is nothing more than embers now, but it feels warmer in the house. It’s dawn, the grey light streaming in through the window, chasing away the shadows of night. 

“What are you doing out here?” A gruff voice asks you. 

You groan, rubbing your eyes. “Fell asleep.” 

“On the couch?” 

“Think I was on the floor first.” You yawn, pressing your face back into the pillow. “Don’t remember getting to the couch.” 

“Why?” 

“Got cold.” Your voice is slightly muffled as you pull the blanket up higher. 

Simon lets out a sigh before moving around the couch to the fireplace. He adds a couple logs in before lighting it again, the fire crackling back to life. You’re half asleep already as another blanket is draped over you, tucked up around your neck. There’s a feeling of a hand brushing over your head, but that may have just been your imagination as you drift off back to sleep. 

You don’t get to sleep long, more footsteps coming down the stairs waking you. A hand does brush over your head this time, the scent of the beach filling your nose. You let out a groan, trying to snuggle deeper into the blankets. 

“Sleeping out here this morning?” Kyle’s soft voice reaches your ears. 

You grunt, chasing the quickly fading edges of sleep in your brain. 

“Breakfast is ready, if you want to get up.” 

You are hungry. There’s a quiet rumble of your stomach as you begin to register the smells coming from the kitchen: bacon and eggs and coffee. Johnny is making the coffee most likely. Maybe you’ll have some this morning. You might need it with how groggy you feel. 

You stretch out on the couch, trying to breathe some life into your limbs. It’s not the most comfortable couch, definitely not for sleeping, but it’s better than the floor. It was likely John that moved you. You’re not quite sure how that makes you feel. 

You don’t remember falling asleep after your little talk last night. You’re not sure how that moment of vulnerability makes you feel either. There was a time when you wouldn’t have thought twice about going to your alpha with such concerns and tumultuous feelings. There was a time when you would have sought him out for the comfort and stability you need right now. 

Things are different, though. Things have changed. 

You run a hand over your face, thinking back to the groggy conversation with Simon this morning. You’re not quite sure it even happened, or if you dreamed it. There’s two blankets on you, however, and you distinctly remember feeling the second one being draped over you. 

It’s a touching gesture from the specter in your life. Once again he’s been reduced to a shadow, a figure lingering only because he has to. The distance that had once been so close to closing has widened into an impossibly wide canyon. You’re not sure it’ll ever fully close again. Too much has transpired in such a short amount of time between the two of you. He’ll never forgive himself, and you’ll never be brave enough to force it again. 

You push yourself up to sit, joints cracking from being stuck in one position for so long. You blink slowly as you sit there for a moment. It’s warm in the house, almost too warm now with your body warmed from sleep. Dr. Keller is sitting at the table, a steaming mug in front of her. Tea, most likely. Maybe coffee. You’re not quite sure. She gives you a soft smile as you rub a hand across your face again. 

You feel groggy as you push yourself up to stand, letting your stomach and feet guide you towards the smells coming from the kitchen. Kyle guides you to the table with a promise of making you a plate and you take your usual seat at the end of the table facing the kitchen. Dr. Keller is to your left this time, coffee in her mug judging by the smell. 

“How did you sleep?” She asks, her hands wrapped around the mug. 

“Fine. Got cold.” You say, resting your head in your hand.

“John turned the heat up a bit. We can get you more blankets if you need them.” Dr. Keller says. 

You hum, letting your eyes close for a moment. You won’t complain about more blankets, more soft things to lay with. There is one thing you wish you had, though. You’re not quite sure how to ask for it, or that it would even be possible to get. 

You jump when a hand touches your back, not realizing you had even dozed off sitting there. 

“Sorry.” Kyle says, setting a plate on the table in front of you. “Food’s hot. You want coffee or tea.” 

“Coffee.” You say instantly, earning a wide grin from Johnny as he takes his own seat at the table. 

“Even split this morning.” He says cheekily, setting his own mug down. “Three against three.” 

“Tea is still the superior choice.” Kyle says from the kitchen. “Better for you anyway.” 

“Coffee has a lot of health benefits as well.” Dr. Keller says. “So long as you don’t add too much sugar into it.” 

“See.” Johnny says, giving them a victorious grin. 

“She said so long as you don’t put too much sugar in it.” Kyle says, carrying over your mug of coffee. “You’ll get diabetes from how much you add in.” 

“Two spoonfuls isnae too much.” He turns to look at Dr. Keller. “Is it?” 

Dr. Keller gives him a worried look. “You might be pushing it there.” 

Johnny’s grin turns into a pout. “What do ye mean?” 

A ghost of a smile tugs at your lips as you quickly shovel a forkful of eggs into your mouth. As much as the deep pain of trauma and their decisions ache in your chest, you have to admit you missed this. It’s the least tense you’ve seen all of them in the last few weeks. Even Dr. Keller’s shoulders don’t seem quite so squared as they have been. 

A part of you feels guilty about it. It is your fault deep down. You’re the one keeping them all on edge, driving that wedge between them over and over again. Deep down you’re the one causing the heavy weight that’s settled over the house. You wish you could just go back to normal, you wish you could just wave a wand and make yourself okay again. You wish you could ease their pain just a little bit. 

The eggs suddenly don’t taste quite so good anymore. 

You force them down regardless in favor of causing another scene, in favor of dragging the mood down. They deserve a little lighthearted moment after everything. They don’t need to know the inner turmoil plaguing your mind. 

Simon shifts next to you, his eyes darting to glance at your face. You can feel them, the intensity of his gaze just as sharp as it had been back in the beginning, back before he looked at you with fondness. He’s stiff as he sits there, almost as if he can sense the storm raging inside of you as you force yourself to pretend that you’re fine in favor of keeping the bright mood that’s settled over the table. 

Maybe he can sense it. He is an alpha after all. It’s his job to know, to understand. You glance across the table at John, his eyes on his phone as he sips his tea. 

Your gaze drops down to your plate as you pick up a piece of bacon, your heart shattering just a little bit more. 

“‘S too early.” You whine as hands pull the blanket off of you. Cold air nips at your skin, making you curl up in a ball. 

“It’s noon. Come on.” A hand closes around your arm, gently shaking you. “You want to get up.” 

You let out a whine, pinching your face up. “No.” 

“Trust me. It’ll be worth it.” Kyle says, brushing the hair back from your face. 

“Why.” You say, letting out a huff. 

“We’re going on a little trip.” Kyle pulls you up, forcing you into a seated position. “Dress warm.” 

You’re alone in the room again, the door left open. Light streams in, making you squint against the harsh intrusion. A quick glance at the clock reveals it is, in fact, a little past noon. You took a nap to make up for a night of tumultuous sleep, one of the few things you have to do here in this prison. Nap and read. It’s a lot like your life before the cottage, before everything that happened, except now you’re stuck with your pack around you at all times. 

You almost miss the times they were away. 

You’re half tempted to go back to sleep, but you’re too awake now, and the light streaming in the doorway is making it hard. It was done on purpose, left that way to prevent you from falling asleep again. 

You let out a huff as you maneuver yourself so your legs dangle over the edge of the bed. You try to blink the drowsiness away, no matter how much your brain is trying to chase the last lingering threads of sleep quickly receding. The nap hadn’t been nearly long enough, but judging by Kyle’s eagerness, they let you sleep a bit longer than they wanted. 

You let out a sigh before pushing yourself off the bed, moving to the dresser. You pull out warm clothes, quickly changing. You have no idea what they have planned, what’s going on. There was no frantic rush, Kyle’s energy more excited than anything. It makes you a bit worried as you step out of the room into the living area. 

They’re all waiting by the door, watching you as you approach them, rubbing your eyes. 

“Come on,” John says, setting a pair of shoes on the floor. “Boots on.” 

“What are we doing?” You ask, moving forward automatically. 

“We’re taking a little trip.” Kyle answers, repeating what he told you in the room. 

You look at him cautiously as you step into the boots, pulling them on. You haven’t been away from the cottage since you arrived two weeks ago. You’ve barely been let outside, weather permitting. It’s an overcast day today, the world grey outside, but grey is better than rain. 

“Ready?” John asks as you stare at him. 

“I guess.” You say, still a bit hesitant. 

They make no effort to ease your discomfort and nerves. 

You’re led out the door and towards the cars by Dr. Keller. Her face is brighter than it has been lately which doesn’t help your nervous energy. She’s excited too, just like the rest of them. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous. Maybe it’s the anxiety of leaving after being trapped inside for so long. You just want to know where you’re going, what it is you’re going to be doing. 

Dr. Keller ushers you into the back seat of one of the cars, getting in the other side. Kyle and John climb into the front while Johnny and Simon get into the other car. 

You watch the green pass by as they drive, taking in the new landscape. You don’t remember arriving at the cottage. You don’t remember most of the trip at all. It’s all a blur in your memory, much like the events that transpired after your omega took over had been. You wish you could remember the trip over those events. You’d take green rolling hills over your own hands taking lives. 

It had been jarring waking in the cottage for the first time. A new place, the lack of memories getting there. You’re beginning to get tired of the pattern. You half expect to fall asleep and wake up somewhere new again most nights. You wouldn’t know any better. A slip of a pill into some food and you’d wake up somewhere halfway across the world. 

You like to think they’d at least warn you beforehand. 

John pulls the car into a parking lot, parking near a line of trees. Johnny pulls into the parking lot behind John, parking near the entrance. It’s on purpose, you know that much. Everything is about safety and making things look as inconspicuous as possible. Anyone could be a rat. Anyone could be watching. 

It’s windier here as you step out of the car, even though you haven't gone far from the cottage. Walking distance, if you were up for a hike. You’re not. 

“Come on, kitten.” Johnny says, guiding you through the parking lot and towards a path. 

You still don’t know what’s happening as you follow them, Johnny holding your hand as you step onto the rocky path. He leads the way, the others following. John is behind you, hovering in case you slip in the gravel. You do your best not to, despite how quickly Johnny is leading you. He’s more eager than Kyle had been, and you’re sure he’d be running if you could keep up. 

You begin to figure out what’s happening as the sound of waves crashing on the shore gets louder and louder. Your chest starts to constrict with emotion as the trees start to get sparser and sparser, a cliff edge visible over Johnny’s shoulder. You want to run now, you want to break ahead and race your way to the edge of the cliff. Johnny, even in his excited state, would catch you before you could take off and potentially hurt yourself. 

You might hurt yourself just trying to run. 

You hate it. 

The land opens before you as you reach the edge of the cliff. The expanse of the sea seems daunting so close, grey and choppy from the wind. Salty air blasts you in the face, rustling your jacket as you stand there above a small beach. It’s empty, but that’s expected for late fall. All the tourists have gone home, those with vacation homes back in better weather for the winter. 

You’re glad you’re alone. You wouldn’t want anyone else ruining this moment. 

Kyle’s fingers wrap around yours as you stand there, staring down at the beach below. “Come on.” 

The gravel turns to dirt as it winds down the side of the cliff, getting steeper as you near the beach. You do nearly slip as you follow Johnny and Kyle down to the sand, your boots quickly getting muddy. You’re glad for them, understanding why John chose boots over more comfortable shoes. 

You pause as your feet sink into sand. You stare out at the water, at the white crests of waves crashing onto the shore. It’s real. It’s not just some mirage, some painting in the background of your life. It’s really here. You’re really here. 

No one says anything as you take a few steps forward before squatting down. You scoop up a handful of sand, letting it slip through your fingers. It’s coarse against your cold skin, thicker and rockier than the sand you’re used to, but it’s still sand. It’s still a beach. 

You’re at the beach. 

You scoop up another handful of sand, letting it run through your fingers again. You want to put some of it in a jar and set it on the nightstand at the cottage. You want to stare at it and remind yourself you’re really at the coast, you’re really just a short drive away from the sea. You want the sand to sink into your skin and flow through your veins and fill every crack that’s formed in your mind.  

You’re really here. 

You stand up straight, staring out at the water again. Your pack is still behind you, silently watching you. You shuffle forward a couple steps, waiting for one of them to stop you, to grab you and keep you from getting closer, but none of them move. You widen your steps, treading through the soft sand until you reach the edge of the wetter sand where the water was earlier. It’s easier to walk on as you continue to approach the water, the sound of your pack treading through the soft sand disappearing behind you as you get closer and closer to the water. The waves flow up the beach, your feet getting closer and closer to where that water stops. 

You half expect them to stop you as you step forward, letting the waves hit your feet. The salty water washes away the mud and sand clinging to your rubber boots, rushing up over the tops of your feet. You stare down at the water, watching it surge upward and around your ankles. You’d keep walking if you were brave enough, let it get higher and higher until it soaked your clothes, but you know they’d stop you. It’s far too cold to risk getting wet. You can feel the chill of the water through your boots as it flows over your feet. 

You’re not sure how long you stand there, watching the water rush back and forth, feeling the pressure of it against your boots as you stand in the waves. You’re really here. You’re really standing in the sea. 

You finally turn after what seems like an eternity, making your way back up to the softer sand. All of them are standing in a line, watching you. You wonder what’s going through their heads, what they feel standing here. Relief? Happiness? Guilt? Shame? The wind whips at your back, coming right off the water, blowing their scents away from you. What you wouldn’t give to be able to smell them right now. 

Tears burn your eyes as you make your way up towards John, trudging through the sand. His cheeks and nose are pink from the cold wind, his beard longer than you’ve ever seen it. You don’t remember the last time you’ve really looked at him up close. His gaze is uncertain as he stares down at you, trying to gauge your next move. He can’t. You know he can’t and it makes you feel powerful. 

It shouldn’t, but it does. 

“Thank you.” You say finally, a tear sliding down your cheek. “Thank you.” 

You can hear them. They don’t know it, but you can. They think they’re speaking quietly, but in the silence of the morning, you can hear almost every word. Dr. Keller’s protests, John's quiet insistence. 

Leaving. 

That’s the word that caught your attention. Leaving. Someone is leaving. Someone is separating themselves from the pack again, and not just for a trip to town to go to the store. This meaning is different, it hangs differently in the air. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea right now.” Dr. Keller says, her voice just barely audible through the open sliding glass door. It’s open just a crack, just enough to hear what’s transpiring inside. 

“We won’t have another chance.” John says, his voice insistent. “We have to do this. She deserves it.” 

She. You. Whatever it is, it involves you. It always does. You can’t remember a time over the last few weeks when it hasn’t been about you. It’s always about you and you hate it. You almost wish things would go back to the way they were before, when you were a second thought, the one left behind.

You’re going to be left behind again. 

“John-” 

“I know.” John’s voice is louder again. “We have to do what’s best for our pack, and right now this is it.” 

The sliding door opens, the conversation over. Your stomach is churning, nausea eating its way up your esophagus as John crosses the deck towards where you’re seated. His steps are slow and quiet, almost like he’s approaching a wild animal. He might be, depending on how this conversation is going to go. 

How are you going to react? You expected it eventually. They’ll always leave, they’ll always put you last and think about themselves first. Are you upset? Are you angry? Is it a relief? 

You wish you could feel something right now. Instead you feel numb. Another promise broken, another lie told. 

“You’re leaving again.” You say, staring out at the horizon as John takes a seat next to you. You need to get it out first, say what you know before he can say it and break your heart again. 

He lets out a quiet sigh, leaning back in the chair. “We are, but you’re coming with us.” 

You turn to glance at him, taken aback by his words. You’re leaving too? You hadn’t considered this. The cottage is your prison. You are Rapunzel trapped by the Mother Gothel that is your pack, stuck in the tower for the rest of time. 

Leaving? 

“There’s something we need to take care of back in the states.” John explains. “You’re coming with us.” 

Back in the states? What could possibly be there that is left for you, for your pack? 

You don’t like the sound of that. You don’t like the sound of that one bit. 

NEXT ->

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[iamgonnagetyouback]

proposal ⋆˚࿔

synopsis ⭑.ᐟ james potter x reader who gets asked out by james with the help of the boys and..... minnie?

warnings: none

word count: 970 words

navigation┆ james potter masterlist┆request here 𝜗𝜚

You clutched the small, crumpled piece of parchment in your hand, staring at the words written in James Potter’s unmistakable scrawl:

“Common Room. After dinner. Don’t tell anyone. Trust me, love. It’ll be worth it.”

Now, trusting James Potter was a gamble at best, but curiosity—and your soft spot for him—led you to climb through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room.

The space was eerily empty, the usual chatter replaced by an ominous silence.

“James?” you called out, your voice echoing slightly.

Before you could take another step, an explosion of sound and red smoke erupted from seemingly nowhere. You coughed, waving your hands in front of your face as crimson mist swirled around you. Instinctively, you drew your wand.

“Ventus!” you muttered, sending a gust of air through the room. The smoke cleared, revealing a massive, glittery banner suspended near the ceiling.

“DATE…?” it read in obnoxiously large, bold letters.

You gawked at the banner, completely dumbfounded. Before you could process the situation, a spotlight flickered on. There, standing on a table with a guitar slung around his neck, was none other than Sirius Black.

“Hit it, Wormy!” Sirius bellowed.

And then...he strummed the guitar.

The sound was horrendous. You weren’t sure what was more offensive: Sirius’s attempt at music or Peter Pettigrew leaping out from behind an armchair, singing in a voice that could shatter glass.

“GO OUT WITH HIM, GO OUT WITH HIM, HE’S THE BEST BOY THERE IS! HE’S THE CHASER WHO’LL CHASE YOUR HEART—”

“Merlin, no!” you yelped, covering your ears.

“—SO DON’T LET THIS CHANCE FAAAAART—”

“Wormtail!”

Peter stopped mid-warble as Sirius smacked the back of his head. “It’s fall apart, you dolt!”

“Stop! STOP!” Remus Lupin’s voice rang out from the shadows, mortified. He looked like he was actively praying for the floor to swallow him whole. In his hands, he held a small, handwritten sign: Go out with James.

Remus looked anywhere but at you, his cheeks tinged with pink as he awkwardly raised the sign higher.

“Merlin’s beard…” you whispered, half amused, half overwhelmed.

Suddenly, the room plunged into darkness.

“Oh, come on,” you muttered.

Another spotlight flickered on, illuminating the man of the hour: James Potter. He was perched—on top of a chair? The mantle? You couldn’t tell because your brain was short-circuiting. His lopsided grin was in full effect, his hazel eyes sparkling as he looked directly at you.

“Will you go out with me, love?” he asked, his voice warm and soft, despite the ridiculousness surrounding him.

You opened your mouth to respond, but—

“AHEM.”

James froze, his smile dropping as he turned toward the source of the noise.

“Not now, Pads,” he hissed.

Another cough.

“I said not now, Pads. Don't you want a brother to settle dow—” James whipped around, his expression shifting from annoyance to sheer panic when he saw who was standing there.

Professor McGonagall.

She was staring at James through her glasses, one brow arched so high it was practically touching her hairline.

“Care to explain what is going on here, Mr. Potter?” she asked in a tone that sent shivers down your spine and, evidently, James’s too.

“I, uh—”

Peter piped up, “We’re just, uh, rehearsing for the school talent show!”

“There is no school talent show,” McGonagall said flatly.

“Then we’ll start one!” James said brightly.

“Mr. Potter, the Fat Lady came screaming through the portraits about ‘horrible singing and red smoke.’ I should have known it was your group of troublemakers,” McGonagall said, her tone icy.

Peter piped up: “You know, Min—er, Professor, the Fat Lady really overreacts. I don't really believe I- the person who was singing was 'horrible'. I think we should fire the Fat Lady.”

Professor McGonagall gave him a look.

“On second thought,” Peter stammered, “she’s doing a great job. Wonderful lady. Terrific lungs.”

Sirius jumped in, abandoning the guitar and his shame. “Minnie, might I just say you’re looking particularly radiant this evening?”

“And regal!” James added hastily, straightening his glasses.

“Charming!” Peter squeaked.

“Delightful!” Sirius chimed again but McGonagall only gave them the look.

“Minnie, come on! Give us a break,” Sirius pleaded, dramatically throwing an arm over James’s shoulders. “Do you want James to grow old and alone?”

“You will grow old in detention if you keep this up, Black.” She turned her gaze to you, her stern expression softening slightly. “Five points from Gryffindor for…whatever this is. And Potter…”

���Yes, Professor?” James asked, his voice squeaky.

“You have one minute to clean this up. Good night.” She turned to leave, but not before casting you a knowing smile over her shoulder. “Good luck,” she murmured, loud enough for only you to hear, before walking out.

The moment she disappeared, James collapsed into a nearby armchair, dramatically wiping his forehead. “Merlin, that was close.”

“Close?!” you echoed, finally finding your voice. “You almost got us all detention for this?” You gestured vaguely to the chaos.

James grinned sheepishly. “So…will you?”

“Hmm,” you teased, tapping your chin. “I’m not sure. I mean, the sign was a bit much. And Peter’s singing…”

“Oi!” Peter said indignantly.

“And Sirius…”

“What about me?!” Sirius demanded, looking offended.

“…was Sirius.”

James groaned, flopping onto his knees in front of you. “Please, love. Don’t let all this effort go to waste.”

You chuckled, letting him squirm for a moment before leaning in. “Yes, James. I’ll go out with you.”

Before he could react, Sirius clapped his hands loudly. “WELL? What are you waiting for? Snog already!”

“Padfoot!”

“I mean it, Prongs! Show her why you’re the best!”

You laughed so hard you nearly cried, but James ignored Sirius, leaning in close enough to whisper, “Don’t worry. I’ll save that for our first date.”

You blushed, but before you could reply, Sirius shouted, “I’M TAKING CREDIT FOR THIS!”

© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.

[alastor-simp]

Cuddling By The Fireplace🧡 - Alastor X Female Reader

❥Summary: It's fall season now, which means the air in Hell will get much colder. Thank god, the hotel has a fireplace.

❥Tags: Alastor x Female Reader, Flufftober, Cuddling, Snuggling, Fireplace, October, Flufftober 2024, Fluff, So Much Fluff.

❥Notes: Needed me some flufftober with Alastor. Enjoy!

Grabbing a piece of wood from the pile, you moved it slowly to the burning flames in the fireplace, small fire sparks crackling out. "That should be enough", you thought, as you slowly motioned to stand back up, maneuvering to your cozy section on the couch. Autumn had slowly creeped its way to hell, as the air was becoming more chiller, and some of the hellish trees were getting a change in color. It still surprised you that hell could even experience seasonal change, since you always believed it was a fiery molten pit, with blazing flames everywhere, but well you were proven wrong.

The other residents of the hotel noticed the sudden change, and began to slowly adapt to it. The others began to wear more comfortable clothing like sweaters and cardigans, especially Angel Dust since you often some him wearing really revealing clothing, but even he couldn't deal with the new chilly weather. Charlie, being the sweetheart that she is, went out of her way to get everyone new fall attire and also provide more blankets and comfy decor for there rooms since it was especially more colder at night. Alastor had pitched in as well, maybe not as much as Charlie, but he expanded his powers to create a warm fireplace in the lobby of the hotel, which everyone appreciated, including you. Everyone had retired for the night, except you, as you found yourself unable to snooze, so you decided to head to the lobby, hoping the warmth from the fireplace would help you nod off.

Upon reaching the couch, you threw yourself onto it, grabbing the fluffy blanket that Charlie had gifted you and wrapped it around yourself. Letting out a sigh, you leaned back, head placed on the couch cushion, as your eyes were trained onto the fire, watching the flames dance and twirl. The cracking of the wood burning and glowing effect provided a comforting atmosphere for you, as your eyes watched on, entranced.

Waves of static had merged itself with the sounds of the burning wood. Turning your head to the right, the empty area of the lobby was now accompanied by the radio demon himself. He was still in his regular suit, as he often said he didn't really sleep, so he found no need to change unless he felt like it. Crimson eyes were gazing at the fire, before they made their way towards you, watching you. "Good evening, my dear. I take it, you also are having trouble getting some proper shut-eye, hmm?" Alastor bent at the waist, smile widening as he continued to look at you. Wrapping the blanket tighter around you, your eyes gazed into Al's softly, giving him a kind smile, "Yeah, I was thinking maybe using the fireplace would help make me more tired. Thanks again for making this" Alastor appeared quite pleased, happy that you were appreciating what he did. It was only a simple trick, but the others were very thankful for it, even though he knows they wouldn't say it outright to him, except maybe Charlie.

"You're quite welcome, my dear.", his smile had softened, as he turned back to gaze at the fire, straightening back up with his hands behind his back. The both of you remained quiet after that, listening to the sounds of the fireplace and the small bursts of static coming off from Al. Moving more to the left of the couch, you lifted the blanket up, inviting Al into the warm cocoon. "Join me?" His ears twitched at your words, moving his head back towards you - eyebrow lifted as he was contemplating it. Eyes widening, you quickly realized your mistake, forgetting the extreme dislike for touch that Alastor made well known to everyone. The hand that lifted up the blanket slowly began to drop, until Al spoke. “Very well," he responded, as he moved closer to where you were on the couch.

Grabbing the lifted blanket, he slowly sat on the couch, moving the cover to wrap around his back. His legs crossed one on top of the other and his hands were placed against his lap, his whole body stiff as a statue. He hadn’t turn to look at you when he did that, his eyes continuing to stare at the fire. Heaving a sigh, you uttered an apology, earning a confused look from Al, as his head swiveled towards you, “Why are you apologizing?” Looking up at him, you opened your mouth to speak, but words failed you, so you casted your head down - ashamed. “I understand I have made you uncomfortable and it wasn’t my intention to do that. J-just…. I’ve never seen you physically relax and wind down after a long day and I thought maybe you joining me might help with that…I don’t know…I’m sor-”

A warm hand had placed itself on your chin, turning it around to face the red deer man. “You did no such thing, darling.” His hand ventured from your chin to your cheek, giving it a soft rub. Al began to turn back to look at the fire, his hand dropping from your cheek, making you a bit sad at the loss of contact. “I will admit though, it has been difficult for me to, what’s the word? Adapt…to these sorts of things. Centuries of mutilating and torturing my prey on my broadcasts can do that." His sharp row of teeth had disappeared, as his lips drew into a more somber smile, allowing you to see more of the true side of Alastor. His eyes turned back towards you, illuminating your face. "It may take some time for me to get a grasp of all this. However, I don't mind this current situation." His body was still stiff, but he had unhooked his legs, signifying that he was trying to somewhat relax.

Hands twiddling under the blanket, you looked at Alastor, words fumbling from your mouth. "C-can I come closer?" Silence was the answer that you received from Alastor. He didn't speak, but he was able to respond with a soft nod. Moving slowly, you began to inch closer and closer towards Al, eyeing him to notice any signs of discomfort from your actions. Two sets of hands had grabbed at your waist, lifting you up a bit, placing you on his lap. The blanket was then wrapped around the both of you, warming the both of you up. "Al! What are you doing?" You gazed up at Al in shock, not expecting him to do that. Alastor tilted his head, "Why, you wanted to get closer. Isn't this what you meant?" Well, he wasn't wrong, but you expected laying your head on his shoulder, not being seated on his lap. "W-ell yes, just wasn't expecting this"

Al noticed your flustered state, making him chuckle. His hands remained wrapped around your back, allowing him to pull you closer, your head being placed on his chest. His cheek was place against the top part of your head, allowing him to nuzzle against it softly. Despite being shy at the situation, you melted at the soft actions he was doing to you. Copying him, you nuzzled against his chest, listening closer to the static coming off from him, and breathing in his scent. "You smell nice" His chest vibrated with laughter, amused at your comment. "What a peculiar thing to compliment someone about." Heat rushed to your cheeks, burying your face in his chest to hide yourself from him, yet he could probably spot the red coloring of your ears. Laughing at your adorableness, he moved his hand to place it against your cheek, wanting your eyes to look up at him "You can't hide from me, my dear. You said something along the lines of "I smell nice." Care to tell me more about that?" He was loving this, giving how wide his smile was, eyes as well, glowing with amusement. Seeing no way out of this, you decided to give him an honest answer. "Well...um...you have kind of a earthy scent. Like the smell of pine trees in a forest. It's very pleasing."

As you were explaining it to Alastor, his smile had soften, his hand continuing to caress your cheek. "There! That wasn't so hard, was it?" Still embarrassed, you shook your head to remove his hand, returning back into his chest. Chuckling again, his cheek continued to rub against your hair. "Wildflowers" you heard him say. Removing your head slowly, your eyes gazed up at him, "Huh?" His nose began to trace slowly along your hair, you swear you heard him inhale. "Your scent reminds me of wildflowers. Reminds me of the ones that use to grow in my mother's garden. Sweet and oh so delicate." His voice had dropped an octave when he said this, sending shivers down your back. It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest. If you weren't sitting on his lap right now, you would have collapsed on your knees at him saying that. "Thanks," was your response to him, face nuzzling further into his chest. He let out a hum, as he continued to do the same to you.

The both of you remained cuddled next to each other, wrapped in each others and the blankets warmth, as the glowing flames from the fireplace continued to dance. Alastor's hand was tracing circles on your back; the sensation drawing a yawn from you as your ears picked up on the sounds of his static heart beating. Your breaths had slowed, eyelids becoming heavy, and little by little, you fell into a deep sleep, cuddling with Alastor. Feeling your body relax, his arms tightened around you, hugging you closer to himself. "Sweet dreams, Y/N."

-END-

Sinners:

@alastorsgoldie @91062854-ka , @delectableworm , @iiotic

@cookiekyo , @demoarah , @danveration , @beebsbea ,

@veethewriter , @forbidden-sunlight , @pinkcrystal44 , @luujjvi ,

@unholycheesesnack , @saturnhas82moons , @jyoongim ,

@aceofcards0-0 , @ghostdoodlen , @yourdoorisunlocked ,

@starshipcookie , @ainsliemac , @aria-tempest , @nobuharashinyao

, @sweet06tart , @blakedbeanss , @ihyperfixatedagain , @ktssstuff ,

@yakultt-art , @mooniee123 , @nightmarenaya , @darischerry ,

@sadnessiscoldtea , @alastorssimp , @imacollasaltitan ,

@dilucragnvindr-my-beloved , @batmanmonstarr , @felice-jaganshi ,

@justchillaine , @crazed-flower , @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog ,

@akiooshizuka , @lokis-imaginary-friend ,

@themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @futureittomainn ,

@christinaatyourservice92 , , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it ,

@angelinevalentine89 , @yunimimii , @staryosh1 ,

@mihawksdemoness , @crystalreads , @blahblahbruhmeow ,

@madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel ,

@artemisandhunters , @thereeallink , @ask-theradio-demon ,

@lousypotatoes @l4zyb0n35 , @midorichoco

@lillyisfreakyy , @alastorthirsty , @yukiinee ,

, @aconstructofamind @angiiiiiiiiie

@pumppkinlynn @erikaafernns , @silverpaw2 ,

@cosmiccandydreamer , @killer-nightmare0 , @visara-valentina

@thereallsaturnstar , @coffee-or-hot-cocoa ,

@fckedupandbeautiful , @alaskathestereodemoness , @fries11 ,

@toneystank-3000. , @doll-babe-a-tron-queenthousand

[gothwineaunts]

Wow, hello!

So, I was actually feeling pretty motivated to write this post yesterday. But things have gotten exponentially worse, and I admit the pressure is getting to me. There seem to be a ton of expectations surrounding what I should be saying here, in order to… I guess, absolve myself? As if there’s a checklist people want me to go through to perform the “perfect” creator apology. But, I don’t see the point. I care a lot about this community and I think you deserve something a lot more sincere than some hollow chat-gpt apology. I understand that that’s foolish, on my part. Things are done that way so often because they work. But what you’ll find throughout this post, is that I’m kind of an idiot about some things. I’m stubborn and hard-headed and a little bit pretentious. And so, what I’m planning to do here is to simply tell you the truth about what happened. No cherry picking. All my mistakes, but also the context that goes with them. And at the end, my formal apology. This is a long and winding tale with a lot of characters. I’m going to be sharing some usernames as we go, in the interest of clarity and transparency. You’ll understand why with the context. But please do not seek these people out. Don’t pick fights with them. It will only make everything worse, for all involved.

Cool? Cool. But first I need to address the elephant in the room. This will probably seem like irrelevant drama at first, but this is the nuance and background that I wasn’t adequately able to articulate the night before last. In more ways than one, this is a story told in twos. The first set of twos is you, the readers. Who you are, and what you’re hoping to find out in this post.

1.      The overwhelming majority of you, are earnestly wanting to understand what has happened in the Nevermore Discord. You are concerned that I am not who you hoped I was. You are disappointed, and I understand why. To you, I am so sorry. I want to say that things are not as bad as they seem, but that is not for me to decide. You will need to draw your own conclusions from the words I write. And I understand, whatever you choose to do next.

2.      And there is a small, but incredibly vocal minority of people who are absolutely living for this. They are spreading complete fabrications with no screenshots to speak of. Horrible, horrible accusations. People who are more excited about watching a dumpsterfire than they are about the series that brought them here in the first place. I’m not going to attempt to cater to those people in this post. Because nothing will ever be good enough. Everything that can be taken in bad faith will be taken in bad faith. It would be pointless. But you’ll see them in the comments and reblogs. This is a known group to not only myself, but many others. I will share some of their names in a later section so you know who to watch for. They will make a lot of noise around this post because they’ve been trying to make something like this happen for actual years. And now that I had a genuinely concerning response that good people reasonably want me to explain, they’re lunging at the chance to throw absolutely anything at the wall. It’s parasocial levels of hatred. This is some deep and horrible lore.

The next set of twos is how two things can be true at the same time. And that is exactly what is going on here, in this situation. Let me be really clear, because I don’t want either truth to be lost in my explanation as they are intrinsically linked to one another.

1.      I did a downright terrible job explaining myself in the Discord when people started asking about crimson. I can give you all kinds of contributing factors for this, and I might later. But none of them really matter. It was incredibly careless of me to use “egging them on” and “cried wolf”  to describe what I understood. At the time I was really laser-focused on expressing what happened as simply and quickly as possible because the channel replies were paused and I felt like everyone was just waiting for me to be finished with my message. But after stepping back, I immediately understood how badly I messed up, because of course these idioms are routinely weaponized against survivors of SA and CSA. That is not how I intended to use them. It was an unfortunate case of one thing looking and sounding like another thing. Incredibly ham-fisted and irresponsible on my part. To the survivors who read my words and felt that it echoed their past experiences, I’m heartbroken that I did that to you. That lapse of judgement was a betrayal to both you and me. I don’t know where my head went, and I’m just blown away by my own lack of awareness in that message. So for that I am and will continue to be sorry.

2.      The second thing that can be true is that, while you are all absolutely owed an explanation and an apology, there are also some people amongst you who are using this fuck-up on my part as a springboard to take me down.  These people have been trying to get a call out post to pop off about me for at least a year, and they have been very quick to jump into the reblogs and comments about this very serious topic with complete lies and slander. Just, anything that might stick to the wall. We’ll address this later on as well. But please understand that me discussing the harassment I’ve faced from these groups is not at the expense of me also owning up to my faults and taking the proper accountability.

And the last set of twos is one I’ve alluded to in the first sets, concerning a pair of toxic side-servers that ran adjacent to the main Nevermore Discord. Completely unofficial cliques. And invisible to myself and Flynn and our mod team. We were eventually made aware that both of them were breaking laws and Discord ToS in ways that leaked into our server and affected our members negatively. As such, both groups were mass-banned. And the cliques are the ones running a majority of the discourse you’ve been seeing here, because while they are formally banned from the discord, we have absolutely no say in their participation on Tumblr. Now, keep in mind. Both of these groups were uncovered after crimson was banned the first time. That’s important later.

Clique #1

My understanding of the first group is that it started as a gaming server for people who met one another through the Nevermore Discord. I don’t know when or why it started being used to talk shit about other readers, but I do know that it got really vicious. And it was sort of an open secret for long before I knew anything about it. I found out after that there were a lot of people passively in this server, just observing. It was that much of a spectacle.

Now, this clique had been pretty rude. Like they’d try to start fights with me in the discord fairly often, both in the Patreon and free spaces. But it wasn’t grounds for dismissal until we found out about the baiting and the alts.  These people had a lot of grievances, but one really united them: they were extremely upset about anyone who would ship Prospero.

Many of you know, that Prospero is an aromantic character, canonically. And you may notice that canonically, he has no apparent love interest. But this group wanted to make sure other readers were not thinking about Prospero in relationships, or creating ship content of him for any reason on the grounds that it would be considered a “proship.” I told them (and I stand on this) that it’s not up to them to police the thoughts of other readers, and that aromantic people have widely varying lifestyles and experiences and do not need to be infantilized that way.

This turned out to be a bad move on my part, because it brought with it an onslaught of alt accounts coming in and "innocently" kicking up what I now refer to as the “prosp-aro” debate every time they had the chance. But because of this and what a common occurrence it was, we started being able to pick out the alts. And we realized that this group of people had been using the same alt accounts with different names to antagonize certain readers they’d decided they hated, and it had gone on for a long time.

I did a lot of investigative work in dms trying to figure out who all was responsible for the harassment, and settled on a list that was vetted by three different people who knew about the clique. And all three of these people insisted that, while Laci was in the group and in a lot of the screencaps saying pretty dubious things, that she was good people. So I believe them, and let Laci stay. This group was banned on April 3, 2024, and contained the following users:

-          lilnatx (nat)

-          suitino (sushi)

-          jj_the_jet_plane (layden)

-          rivsticks (jasper)

-          atheimee (athena)

-          jinxs.com (lanx/jinx)

-          smartestginger (nico)

-          thereallandofbugs (bugs)

-          rosienemui (rosie)

These were the names they were known by on the Discord. I don’t have the Tumblr accounts tied to these identities. But some might be the same. I know a lot of them are here.  It should be noted that jinx was later unbanned due to pressure from Laci that they had been banned in error, after the fact. We allowed them back in after a few days as a favor to Laci since the situation seemed like it was very stressful for her. This would prove to be yet another a mistake since, as you have probably seen in the screenshots from the night before last, jinx rapidly escalated things to another level while I was trying to figure out how to handle crimson’s unbanning and subsequent rebanning an hour later.

Clique #2

Phew. Still with me? Great. The second group we needed to ban was one that actually started long before the first one, but was a lot smaller and comparatively more subtle. This group, to my knowledge, cropped up around the time that ep. 39 of Nevermore was released. (11/10/22) We knew about this group but not who all was involved in it or in what capacity for a very long time. They would consistently post things on Tumblr trying to start a scandal. I recall posts alleging that we were racists, or SA apologists, or that we were sending death threats to a random confessions account.

To be clear, these allegations are completely false. This clique will say anything. Like a recent post one of them put up during this discourse said that hiwi (our mod) is both a r*pe apologist and a childhood friend of mine and that’s the only reason she hasn’t been banned. Hiwi is absolutely nothing of the sort, and I have never met her in person. In fact, she lives on the other side of the continent.

Now, this clique is a little different than the first. The first, to my knowledge, was a group of friends that got toxic and felt morally superior about their opinions and it all kind of got away from them. The vibe was a little catty, I guess. Gossipy. But this clique has more of a stalker vibe. It’s dark.

They’ve had it out specifically for me for as long as I can remember. And some of them (at least one, at all times) would subscribe to our patreon, both to sow dissent in our stream chats and also to leak literally all the content back to the others, including me talking about random shit like what I ate for lunch. Just so they could like. Laugh about it, I guess. I’ll never understand why. [Editing note: because in the final moments of proofreading this post I see one of these people has made some master post about what a terrible person I am? A lot of those screenshots are from Patreon channels and the guy STILL has them laying around. I’m telling you, they stole everything that wasn’t nailed down.] 

The biggest grievance this clique had is that any ship with Montresor is an “SA fetish ship” because to them he is a r*pist because of how he made Ada bark (?) and since Montrada is canon, that means we are supporters of SA, and that Morella and Ada should be together instead. Listen, I’ll level with you, this one baffles me. I don’t even know how to begin to untangle it. But if you see a lot of vitriol about us being SA apologists from these users, it’s because Montresor exists. That’s pretty much it.

You can ask them for screencaps ‘til you’re blue in the face, but unless they build fake ones from the ground up, they’re never going to be able to back up their wild claims. Simply put, they’re provocateurs, and they use the scariest words they can to whip people up into a panic.

We became aware that they were leaking patreon content when one of them was caught publicly referring to things that were being said behind a paywall when we knew they weren’t a patron. It unraveled from there.  People who knew about their antics shared screenshots and information with us, and we finally realized the scope of the clique’s hatred and banned whoever was even left in the Nevermore Discord. But they continue to be active in the community on tumblr. You’ll have seen them around. They were banned on 5/11/2024 and the names involved are as follows (again, a mishmash of discord names, nicknames, and tumblr accounts):

- percy (gremlinguy145 on tumblr)

- queenmorningrose (annabel-lee-nevermore on tumblr)

- spoopycactus630 (spoopy-nevermore-dump on tumblr)

- grif/horrorshow (conscience-grim on tumblr)

- unreqiknizd

- duke aralt (westofthestyx)

- eden (sapphic-mad-scientist on tumblr)

- priemium

Again I’d like to reiterate. The point in sharing these names is not to incite any sort of response against these people. But they are folding themselves into the fray and doing what they can to whip everyone else up into a mob, and all as we’re talking about a discord server that they have been banned from for months now. The above context is also relevant for the next section, which is why you’re all here in the first place.

What the hell happened with Crimson?

I hope it’s not confusing, but now we’re going back to 3/14/2024, before anything I just outlined above had come to light. The cliques were quietly doing their harassment and baiting and raiding and whatever-the-hell behind the scenes, but Flynn and I and the mods were blissfully unaware of how bad it was getting. We get a dm from Laci. The same Laci who was part of Clique #1 and was rescued from being banned with the others by her friends outside the group. Jinx’s friend, who managed to get them unbanned as well. You have probably seen these screencaps already, but I will show them to you again, just in case.

Sufficed to say, we were immediately alarmed by the information Laci shared in her DM with us. Now, I want to be very clear about this because it’s been lost in the game of telephone. What Laci outlines in her dm to me, were the events that occurred between six users (including crimson) in a group chat with minors. Everyone in the evidence was censored (pfp and username), as was the image that crimson showed them. When I asked, Laci agreed to give me one name of one of the minors in the dm. I’ll call them Alice, but that is not their real name. I asked if I could talk to Alice about this, I was told by Laci, no. Alice doesn’t want to talk. I was like, ok I understand, that’s fine. 

I hope it makes sense when I say that it is not feasible for us to moderate the things that happen in peoples’ dms. As you’ve seen above, the mod team doesn’t usually get involved with drama unless whatever is happening is directly affecting the experience people are having in the Nevermore Discord because that is all we can see and the only place we have any real authority.  But this was obviously a special case. We banned crimson very quickly without asking any follow-up questions, because of course we did!? I’ve seen people say I’m harboring or defending crimson or that we’re buddies but we barely spoke, ever. They were a stranger to me then, and they still are now.

But something about the entire situation wasn’t adding up to me. And I want to be clear that none of this is in any way meant to discredit csa survivors, I’m really just trying to put you in my headspace and walk you through my thought process. But I found that the evidence was just, sort of strange. Laci started her dm explaining that she found this information out because she and a group of people were investigating crimson for ‘art tracing’ which felt, to me, like a bizarre non-sequitur and totally irrelevant next to the evidence of them showing nsfw content to minors. Petty, kind of. Like I wanted to ask – why were you doing that in the first place? People trace Flynn’s art all the time. As long as they’re not selling it, it’s not a big deal.

Most of the crops are from a PC but the windows are oddly small, and only contain a couple messages at a time. Some have American formatted time and some have European formatted time. So different users, I assume? The names were blotted out, which I would understand for a public call-out but not for a private report to the mod team. Laci was not in this gc at any point in time, despite being the one to report. 

One of the users was apparently 12, to which I ask – what is a 12-year-old doing on discord at all? If we knew who they were, we would have reported the account. Discord is not a safe place for a child that age, let alone a small group chat. Along with 18-year-old Crimson, there was also a 22- and 17-year-old in the chat, which left us wondering – why hadn’t anything been done?

I had no evidence that anyone ever told crimson they were minors, and I feel if it existed, it would have been in the screencap dump (I find that sometimes a noticeable lack of key evidence is evidence in itself). No one seems to have tried to kick crimson from the group chat or report their account for inappropriate behavior. Then there’s the fact that this is a group chat. Anyone in it can leave at any time. 

Then I came across the messages that started this whole gc, and it only got stranger when I realized Alice started it, called it “Women Lovers” and created it “so we can talk about Nevermore women without having to filter ourselves” after they all reacted to a sultry but sfw drawing of Lenore that crimson had made and posted in our hideout channel. And all that made me wonder why Alice didn’t just kick crimson, if she had admin power?  Do you see what I mean? It’s just all a bit head tilty. I noticed it at the time. But I said nothing. Because it didn’t matter. Crimson, no matter what happened, exposed minors to nsfw content. And that’s on them. And I’ve never in my life defended it. We banned them.

Crimson was beside herself. She came off humiliated and apologetic, and insisted she had no idea and begged to come back to a community she said she loved. But we told her no, there’s no coming back from doing what she did.

Time passes and we uncover Clique #1. And while we figured out who the main players were, I dmed with Laci. And it was Laci herself, who tells me that it was Alice who made most of Clique #1’s alt accounts, and that it was Alice who used those alt accounts to harass people and try to get them to start fights or say something that might get them in trouble. 

And I’ll be honest with you, the mod team still didn’t think much of it, outside of – we need to figure out which accounts were the alts. So we did. We had several confirmed to us.  And those accounts were zeroing in on certain users that the clique didn’t like. At the time we noticed two notable targets in addition to the mod team. I won’t name them, it’s their business if they want to weigh in about all that. But in screencaps, they’ll be labeled Target #1 and Target #2.

More time passes and Clique #2 comes to light. As you can imagine, by now we’re feeling disillusioned, and very tired of trying to moderate shit we cannot see for ourselves. And that’s when crimson comes back to very hesitantly ask if they might be able to appeal their ban. It wasn’t until then that it occurred to us that Laci (on behalf of Alice) was the only one who ever reported anything to us about Crimson. 

And I want to just say that again. Because it’s gotten lost too. Laci was the only person who ever reported Crimson. There was not one single other person who ever sent a modmail or a dm or even a ping to anybody on the mod team. I have since (only yesterday) seen some screencaps that are rather skin crawly, but even those happened in yet another side server. Thinking on this, the mods went back through the known alt accounts Alice had used. And they found that Alice harassed crimson both on her main account and on the same alt accounts that she used to harass the other targets.

By now, Alice is banned for completely unrelated reasons. Not because of what happened with Crimson. I’ve seen that one flying around and I’m sorry it’s just not true. It’s because she was relentlessly harassing and cyberbullying people in the discord we moderate. Laci is still there, but had lost my trust, for being involved with both the drama I’ve mentioned here and more that I don’t care to dip into. It’s ultimately irrelevant. But what am I going to say to Laci? “Hey, did you and Alice, by any chance, coordinate some kind of bizarre trap together to get crimson banned from the discord because you suspected them of tracing their art?” And once again. Because I want to keep this top of mind. Even if that were the case, it doesn’t make what Crimson did alright, and it never will. Sharing nsfw content in front of minors is a disgusting thing to do. And one that we frankly are really irritating about in the moderation of the discord. I’ve heard people say that we over-moderate when it comes to art. 

But all this stuff about a “known pedophile?” If it was known, then we were on the outs. And to even this minute right now, I don’t have any conclusive evidence that Crimson is a pedophile. The evidence I have is that Crimson shared nsfw with a group of people whose ages they did not know. Which is fucking gross. It’s an adult’s responsibility to make sure they’re speaking with other adults before posting things of that nature. 

But at the time, the way I read the situation is that Crimson had only just stopped being a minor and was egregiously negligent in how they were speaking and what they were posting, likely in part due to them not being aware enough of their adult responsibilities.  And hey. I know some of you are chomping at the bit. You can call me naïve for this! This is what I’m referring to when I say that I can be a real idiot. But I feel everyone has been very quick to call Crimson a pedophile. I know this is pedantic to say, but the prerequisite for being a pedophile is “being attracted to minors.” Based on the information I had at my fingertips, I did not think Crimson sought out these minors. Crimson was invited to the gc, they did not ask to join. 

I have seen discussions about all the things crimson did to their victims since we unbanned them but I have not seen screencaps to support that whole ‘marriage proposal’ thing, and again I think it sounds a bit odd coming as a pedophilia accusation from someone only one year younger than crimson.  

But you know what? I don’t know crimson. Maybe we were wrong. But even if we weren’t, I realize in hindsight that it was a stupid decision for the mod team to give them a second chance. We didn’t have anyone to consult about what happened because all the other people in the chat had been obscured from me and I didn’t feel like Laci would give me a straight answer. 

The mods and I felt at the time that crimson, like the other targets of Clique #1, had been singled out and that they deserved another very closely monitored chance in the discord, which they said they still missed dearly. I’m a bleeding heart, alright? A total sap. I know that. But being honest with you, I felt bad. It feels horrible to be singled out and targeted. And I was probably too close to that feeling at the time, seeing as we were on the tail end of finding out the Clique #2 had pursued me so relentlessly for so long. 

So for my part, I’m sorry. I made a rash decision that was influenced by some very personal circumstances. And we should have left it alone. Based on the evidence I've seen, I don’t know if I personally would call crimson a pedophile and certainly I wouldn't call them a known pedophile, but I am regretful that we risked it either way.

When I was trying to explain all of this in the west common room channel two nights back, things had boiled over and were already getting out of hand very quickly. A lot of brand new accounts were joining the discord with one word intros just to start conflicts in the public server with crimson. Alts. Either from banned users or burner accounts. And I got panicky. One of the mods paused the messages in west common room but no one besides me was available to handle the situation at that moment. Reacts about being silenced were pouring in and I felt pressured to quickly take over and try to explain. 

In my rush, I stupidly didn’t backread more than a quick skim. And I ate shit, y’all. You saw. One thing I want to state outright. I’m talking a lot about my thoughts and my feelings and it’s because I don’t wanna speak for Flynn or for the mods. But I didn’t make this decision alone. In fact, I was dragging my feet and being really lazy about okaying the whole thing. Just because I was busy, not because I was fretting over it or anything. But I had to be pinged and then literally tapped on the shoulder by Flynn, asking me to respond to mod chat when this was being discussed earlier that day. That doesn’t change the fact that I was part of the decision. I agreed to unban crimson. Foolishly. I understand that, now. 

I hope that now it makes some more sense though, how it came to happen. I never meant to hurt anyone. My own past and present feelings got in the way, and I own that. But in the moment, my personal intention was to give crimson a second chance because I felt that they’d been targeted by Clique #1. Not to ignore anyone’s concerns or make them feel unsafe, even if those were the ultimate outcome.  

So, completely underprepared and defensive, I jumped into west common room and I just. Blew it. Totally fucking blew it. I knew it instantly but it’s hard to stay logical when people are telling you you’re vile and evil and they’re sick that they ever thought you were a good person and that they’ll never see you the same way again. My mind went blank and I don’t really remember much of what happened next. But I said what I said, and I should have done better. 

I wish there was a word bigger than sorry. I’m beside myself. I know there was probably a way to make everyone happy. To make everything okay. But I wasn't clever enough to figure it out in the moment, and it eats at me. So it’s like I’m sorry for my poor judgment and my terrible choice of words, but there’s another layer where I’m also sorry for not matching how wonderful this community is with how wonderful (or well, unwonderful) I was two nights ago. I promise I am going to work harder to be better for you all.

Again, to every victim of SA and CSA, my heart is with you, more personally than you might realize. I don’t think I could have handled my explanation in a worse way. And I’m so so sorry.

Moving forward, I am also going to take an enormous step back from moderating and participating in the discord in general. I feel like a lot of this happened because I was still treating it like it belonged to a smaller fandom, like Shiloh’s. But realistically, I don’t have time to both moderate and make the series itself, and I really dragged my feet on being honest with myself about that. And for that too, I apologize. We’re going to get more mods, they’re going to have full control of the moderation, and Flynn and I are going to do what we love more than anything in the world and just make Nevermore.

I understand if you won’t be there for it. This is not a flattering picture I’ve painted for you. And you’d be well within your rights, to decide not to give us another chance. But it's been a pleasure to lurk here in this wildly talented corner of tumblr. And I’ll never forget it. <3 Yours truly, -Kit Trace

[obeymelucigirlie]

A pact with Lucifer

Obey Me

Pairing: Lucifer x f!mc (reader)

Content warning: Explicit (NSFW/ Smut)

Summary: Lucifer agrees to make a pact with you in lesson 20... and takes you to his room to make you his.

You hear the faint sound of jazz from the cursed record wafting from the study.

Lucifer.

He’s the only one who hasn’t shown up at your impromptu farewell party. Your chest tightens with a pang of sudden sadness. Your last night in this crazy world. With these silly, loveable brothers who have changed your life for the better. If only you could stay…

You should rejoin the others. They’ll worry, come looking if you take too long. Mammon will freak out and call for a search party. But still, you feel an urge to check in on Lucifer.

You knock softly.

“Come on in.”

Lucifer is seated in his favorite chair, a glass of demonus in hand, eyes closed, enjoying the soft melody.

“It sounds like quite the party up in the attic. Since everyone else is busy up there, I get to enjoy my music in peace. Come, join me for a while.”

You take the other seat by the fireplace, enjoying his calming presence. Such a drastic change from the boisterous party roaring a few stories above.

He finally glances your way.

“Have you completed all that you set out to do here in the Devildom? No unfinished business? Loose ends?”

You consider him, then. This proud, detached man. The hardest to read of the seven brothers. He’s kept his walls up all year. How does he feel about you? Will he miss you at all?

You know you’ll miss him, perhaps most out of all of them…

You gather your courage and bring up the topic that’s been eating at you these past few days.

“Well, I still haven’t made a pact with you.”

Lucifer sits up in his chair, giving you a cold, calculating look.

“A pact, you say? I see. You’ve made pacts with all my brothers, which just leaves me…”

He stands up and stalks close to your chair, gazing down at you with his severe, crimson eyes.

“Do you really want to make a pact with me? Truly? I don’t know how my brothers felt about their decisions, but I am more than a name to be crossed from your list. I can’t have you lumping me together with everyone else. That won’t do.”

Lucifer transforms into his demonic form, looming over you menacingly. You gaze up at him, standing your ground. You’ve seen this side of him too often now to be frightened. Deep down, you know he won’t hurt you.

“You aren’t going to run? You’ve certainly got guts, don’t you? I’ve always found that aspect of you both irritating and endearing. Now, listen, and listen well. I will not be your possession. I won’t belong to you. You will belong to me. So, what will it be? Will you make a pact with me?”

Your breath catches at the sudden change in his tone, the possessiveness. You’ve never seen this side of him before.

He gazes down at you in his demonic form, his look both terrifying and heated.

You bite your lip, pondering. You’ve been dying to make a pact with him, make him yours, all year. Now this turn of events.

Lucifer wanting to make you his.

“Yes, I’ll make a pact with you.”

“… Good. Then it’s done. As of this moment, you are mine.”

You feel a sudden, intense connection with the demon. The turmoil of repressed emotions within him. His affection towards you, which he's tried to fight for so long. An intense desire. He wants you, needs you.

He must be sensing your emotions too, as his lips curl into a knowing smirk. He tilts his head, assessing.

“Does that takes care of all your loose ends?”

You return the smirk, slowly rising from the chair to stand face to face with the demon.

“There’s still one more.”

“Is there now?”

You place your hands on his warm chest and rise on your toes, tenderly kissing him. His lips are so soft, so inviting. He wraps his strong arms around you, returning the kiss with a wild passion.

“I’ve always known you wanted to do this. And I know what you’d like to do next as well.”

The demon smirks in-between his fiery kisses, a heated, hungry look in his crimson eyes.

“We’re heading straight to my room." He kisses you ravenously. 'You’re going to spend your last night in the Devildom with me…"

Lucifer trails wet kisses down your neck, sucking gently, whispering in his husky, gravely voice," all night long, until the break of dawn."

A shiver runs down your spine.

He kisses along your collarbone, "I’m not letting anyone else have you now… You’re mine.”

Your eyes go wide, you can't prevent a small moan from escaping as his words strike you to your core. You want - no, you need him to make you his.

He doesn't wait on a response. You agreed to the pact after all. And you know he can feel your desire. He relishes it. That you chose him out of his brothers, to spend your last night in the devildom in his arms.

Lucifer gathers you in his arms and strides across the hallway into his spacious room.

The moment the door closes he’s on you, all wild with want, pulling at your clothes, not caring as he tears at the clasps and buttons in his pressing need to feel your naked skin against his.

Lucifer captures your mouth in a heated kiss, grasping your hips, pulling you flush against his arousal, his hands exploring, caressing, squeezing. Needing to feel all of you. Now.

You moan as heat pools within your belly, his scent, caresses, his powerful body driving you mad with desire. You pull at his clothes, and he helps you, peeling his shirt off and unbuckling his pants as he pulls you towards the bed.

Once he’s naked in front of you, you pull back, taking him in. He’s beautiful. All chiseled, perfect, angelic beauty. And so very hard for you. You trail your fingertips along his chest, feeling his muscles tense under your touch, enjoying his reaction as you slowly move down, stroking his cock.

“Hmm… that’s it, yes… this feels so good.”

Lucifer coos, caressing your face, biting his lips at the intense pleasure.

You smirk and kneel before the demon, daintily placing your lips around his cock. He’s so big, so thick, but you want to please him, so you open wider, working through your gag reflex. His eyes go wide as you take him in, slowly, letting him feel your lips sliding around him, every swirl of your tongue. He moans and threads his hands into your hair, pulling, tugging lightly, begging you to take more of him, coaxing, all desperate need now.

“Oh, yes, just like that… hmm you take it so good my little lamb.”

He hums and coos, caressing your cheek, your hair whenever you choke slightly as he hits the back of your throat. You pick up the pace, relishing in his moans and encouragements.

It turns you on, seeing him like this, the avatar of pride, undone, at your mercy. Only for you. Only in the confines of your shared intimacy.

“I’m… I’m gonna…”

And he comes undone, grabbing the back of your head roughly as he fully sheathes his thick cock in your mouth, calling out your name, spurting deep down your throat. You do your best to swallow every last drop of his salty seed, licking your lips as you gaze up at him under your lashes.

Lucifer looks down upon your puffy, tear-stained face. He smiles tenderly, trailing a finger along your swollen lips.

“Hmm… now that was delightful.”

“Glad I could please you.”

You smirk, wiping at your eyes as Lucifer pulls you onto the bed and covers you with his weight, his intense heat. You desperately grab onto his neck, his hair, tugging, pulling, needing his soft lips on yours. He growls as he kisses you deeply, moaning as he tastes himself on your tongue.

He caresses you, running his hands and mouth, his hot tongue along your body, taking his time to pleasure you, delighting in the sighs and moans he elicits as he maps out your body, committing it to memory. Finding all the spots that drive you crazy. Make you cry out to him. He drives you insane as he kisses and sucks, leaving marks all over you, making sure you – and everyone else – knows you are his.

“Lucifer, please…”

“Please what?” He asks huskily, grinding against your heat in a delicious torture.

“I need you.”

You moan, grabbing at his silky raven hair, to gaze into his eyes, burning with desire.

“You’re so impatient. I did tell you we had until the break of dawn.”

He smirks, pressing his throbbing cock against you, rubbing himself against your clit, teasing, pressing the tip inside your slick folds in a tortuous caress.

“Lucifer… stop teasing…”

You growl as he captures your lips in a ravenous kiss.

“I will do as I please with you, my impatient little lamb… Remember...”

There’s a dangerous glint in his crimson eyes as he enters you, sharply.

“… you’re mine.”

You gasp at the sudden sensation of fullness, as your body struggles to adjust to him. He starts a wild rhythm, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you over and over, his cock stretching you almost painfully. But it feels so, so good. You pant and moan as your body overheats, every cell in your body responding to his every touch, his ravenous kisses. His forceful thrusts deep into your core.

You urge him on, biting down onto his shoulder and earning a satisfying groan. He kisses you demandingly. The rougher he gets, the more intense your desire. He moves sharply and quickly. Every movement perfectly designed to drive you wild with pleasure. You moan loudly into his lips.

“Lucifer…”

You are completely and wholly lost to the demon as he possesses your body with a wild abandon. Tethering on the edge of pain and pleasure. You feel yourself coming undone, Lucifer’s powerful thrusts pushing you into the mattress, dominating you so completely. Your bodies, slick with sweat, connecting so perfectly.

Lucifer feels your desperation.

He smirks as he whispers in your ear: “That’s it, come undone for me.”

“Lucifer…”

You moan loudly as you careen into a delicious state of bliss, your body shaking uncontrollably. You grab onto his strong body, trying desperately to stay grounded in reality. You can feel him finally letting go, thrusting deep into your core with a strangled groan of his own.

“Hmm…. That was…”

The demon gives you a cocky grin, “I know.”

Lucifer pulls you into his arms, kissing you lightly.

"You did good my little lamb." He coos, gently removing sticky, sweaty strands of hair from your forehead.

You smile a tired, satisfied grin as you try to catch your breath.

His hands trail down your back in light caresses as he lets you recover from the mind-blowing orgasm. You sigh with pleasure as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in.

His hands slowly wander further south, and you moan as he caresses your overly sensitive, overstimulated clit. You gasp as he slips one finger, then two, into your slick folds.

“Lucifer!”

“What part of until dawn haven’t you understood yet?”

He smiles devilishly as he replaces his fingers with his already throbbing cock.

Comments & reblogs appreciated 💛

[tacticaldiary]

Reader joining 141 for a mission and Simon is not having it and is pissed at price for calling them and all of the other guys are confused about why ghost is so upset till they find out reader is his wife after the mission

Maybe reader got hurt and ghost goes off on price

The Price Of A Secret

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"People get injured on the job, Ghost." Gaz tries to defuse the situation. "She's alive-"

"This is different." He grits out.

"And why's that?"

"Because that's my wife!" He hisses, slamming his fist onto the table. It strikes them harder than if he were to have yelled it at them.

A/N: It's 2:45am and I have no energy to proofread caution advised-

Masterlist

The moment the picture of the intelligence officer joining them flashes on the screen, Ghost puts his foot down.

"She's not coming."

Everyone in the room pauses, Price staring at Ghost mid sentence. It's the usual 141, and then it's her. Sitting there with a mildly frustrated look, refusing to look at him because she should have known he'd try to pull some shit like this.

"Why not?" Price folds his arm, narrowing his eyes. "Is there an issue, Lieutenant?"

She was supposed to work from the inside, drawing out data and cracking through defences that they then passed on to people like the 141. An integral part of the process of running the whole task force, but not once was she involved in hands-on field work.

It's not that she's incompetent. No, not at all. Ghost would have his head bit off if he even remotely implied that because it simply isn't true. She got the top scores in almost every part of her training exercises, and yet she chose the intelligence part of the military to serve in. His wife was as competent as they got.

His wife.

"This is a covert operation, the fewer people the better." That's what he goes with. Not because his heart picks up at the thought of her being anywhere near what they deal with every day.

"I won't have the range I need to retrieve the data from their servers if I'm not close to them." She speaks up, and their eyes meet from across the room.

His determined, hers resolute.

Sometimes he really hated that she was so fucking stubborn. It had been the same stubbornness that cracked down the iron grip he'd had on the walls in his mind and around his heart, but if that stubbornness was what got her killed Simon would give up this joy in a heartbeat.

He'd do it for her if it meant she kept on living.

"This isn't up for discussion, Ghost." Price states, "She's part of this operation on my authority."

"Price-"

"End of discussion. You settle whatever you have going on outside this room." And fuck, he can't refute a direct order like that, can he?

Ghost sees her release a long exhale, and he knows he won't share such a relief until this damn operation was over and done with.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Her body is so limp it scares the ever-loving shit out of him.

Ghost grips her so tight it's as if he himself is the only thing tethering her soul to her body, boots thumping hard against the muddy ground as they retreat back to their extraction point, data successfully retrieved.

Successfully, not smoothly.

The plan was simple. They'd flank the building while she camped out near the edge of the woods, retrieving the intel they needed. A couple of fuckers slipped out of the building and went straight for her.

Ghost's stomach turns when he remembers how he found the scene. She wasn't answering through her comms, but he knew he wasn't able to leave his position until the building was secure.

Waiting felt like an eternity, he could feel Soap send troubled glances in his direction at the way Ghost was unusually silent and more brutal than.

When the building was finally secure, they'd gone to reunite with her position and found three men dead, bloody seeping into the ground in a crimson mess. The last one standing hovered over her unconscious form, over his wife with a knife raised ready to slit her thought.

The only thought Ghost had as he ripped the man away with his hands was that he was going to take the one good thing in his life away, and he would not let that happen. Not her. Not like this.

"Bleeding wound to the head, unconscious but still breathing!" Gaz called out while Ghost shoved the man's own knife into his throat. Tossing the gurgling body aside like a ragdoll, he's immediately by her side, assessing before carefully lifting her up in his arms.

It's the most emotion Ghost has ever expressed in front of the others, but he couldn't give a fuck about the looks or the questions right now. Her heartbeat against him settled him the slightest bit with the reassurance that she was alive.

Angry does not begin to describe what itches under Ghost's skin as they scramble into their exfil airship.

"Medic!" He barks the second they lift off. Setting her down, he brushes the bloody strands of her hair away from her face.

Despite the urge to stay by her side, the medic gingerly requests for him to take a step back so he could work. Ghost obliges but his eyes never leave her face.

He's painfully aware of his wedding ring pressing against his chest, strung onto a chain long enough to be tucked under his uniform. A matching one to her own.

Nobody speaks.

Perhaps they recognise the anger washing off of Ghost in waves, because if they'd just bloody listened to him, she wouldn't be laying there with a head wound.

The atmosphere is heavy and sombre. Even Soap keeps his mouth shut, too confused by the outward, uncharacteristic way Ghost was acting to make fun of it.

It's only when the medic announces she's stable that the suffocating knot in Ghost's chest loosens. There's audible relief from everyone in the place.

"Bloody hell." Price breathes, and something in Ghost snaps.

"I told you to dismiss her from the op." He says coldly, turning to the man.

"We got what we needed, son." He sighs, deep and tired, and part of Ghost understands that this was their life. But he's too worked up to care.

"At a fucking cost."

"People get injured on the job, Ghost." Gaz tries to defuse the situation. "She's alive, that's all that matters. Nothing permanent, yeah?" He glances at the medic, who confirms with a nod before slipping away.

"This is different." Ghost grits out.

"Why's that?"

"Because that's my wife!" He hisses, slamming his fist onto the metallic walls. It strikes them harder than if he were to have yelled it at them.

How long had it taken for Ghost-...no, for Simon to let someone crack open his defences until he was coaxed out and allowed himself to love again? Four years they've been married, and four years he's kept it a secret.

It's not that he doesn't trust his team. He trusts them with his life, would lay his own down for Johnny, Gaz, and Price any day.

But this? This was bigger than him, she was the most precious thing that had ever happened to him, and the safest way to preserve that was the keep it on a need-to-know basis.

She'd agreed with him, of course. In that soft, patient way she always has with him. She'd seen the paranoia in him, recognised that he needed this one thing for himself, and she'd been more than happy to oblige.

What was outside validation about her relationship worth when she got to crawl into his arms at the end of the day? Be granted the pleasure that comes with being loved by someone as protective, intelligent, and sharp as Simon Riley? She adores all of him, even the jagged pieces that cut into her from time to time, because he's always there to take care of her afterwards.

"She's my wife." He repeats quieter, sitting back down. Exhaustion lines the slope of his shoulder's dark circles well present under his mask.

"You're married." Soap is the first to speak, incredulously. "You? Ghost? You're married?" His eyes flicker down to Ghost's left hand, and then to Gaz and Price who look equally as surprised. "I mean, congratulations?" He trails off, knowing it's not really the situation to celebrate.

"Thanks." A tired, small voice has everyone's attention back onto the figure on the bed. Ghost is on his feet in moments, by her bedside. "It'll be five years in...what, a month?" She cracks an eye open, giving Simon a tired, smile.

"Two months." He corrects with a mutter, and Johnny looks like he might just collapse. "Sitrep?"

"We're not on the field anymore." She groans, pushing herself to sit up. Ghost's hands fly to her immediately, helping her sit up. At his blank, insistent stare, she relents with a deep sigh. "My head's killing me but other than that just a few scrapes and bruises." Her hand travels down to grab his at her shoulder, squeezing briefly.

"I'm alright." Her voice turns into something soft and reassuring, and it's only then that a quiet, shuddering breath comes out of Simon's lungs. "I think I'll sit to working from the inside though." She jokes weakly. "Leave the dirtier work to you brutes."

It lightens the mood as intended, eliciting a snort from Gaz. "Yes, ma'am."

He'd make sure she got checked out properly when they landed, but for now he takes his place sitting beside her. The others fall into a hushed conversation after a while, but he makes no move to join them.

A warm hand intertwines with his, hidden beneath the bulk of their combined gear.

"I'm alright, Simon." She mumbles, just loud enough for him to hear.

Simon squeezes her hand in response. "Fucking hell, love." He breathes.

And it's enough to convey everything he's thinking. Humming, she tips her head against his shoulder and lets her eyes slip shut. The warmth of his body, even through the tang of copper is enough of a familiar comfort to drain the tension from her body.

She's fast asleep against his shoulder a minute later, and the devil himself couldn't make Simon move lest he wake her now.

He wasn't a publicly affectionate person by any means...but he trusted his team enough for this right now.

Letting his own head press against the metal wall behind them, his eyes shift to meet Price's. A softer, knowing look from the Captain is all he needs to hook his chin over her head and turn his attention outside the small window.

And if he counts her breathing while she sleeps for his own peace of mind? Well, that's no one's business but his.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(10/09/2023)

[tulliebxby]

𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚢

Alastor x Fem reader

♡ themes: Alastor being a cutie pie, fluff, a little suggestive? ♡

Theres nothing Alastor despises more about himself than the intense biological urges he’s forced through annually. He’s always prided himself as being a well presented man, however each October it gets hard for him to present himself as such.

His antlers grow without warning, making him prone to headaches with how heavy his head feels. Not to mention the pieces of stringy velvet that are always hanging off.

His skin feels hot to the touch, his forehead is always a little damp from the sweat, his eyes twitch, he itches everywhere.

He looks a mess, even when he tries to look presentable.

That’s why he makes himself scarce, every year on that dreaded month, he makes as little appearances as possible. ESPECIALLY now that he’s at the hotel, however being surrounded by this many nosy people, it gets harder for him to stay locked away for long without people questioning.

However, this year was different, you were here.

You have known Alastor a while, long before coming to the hotel, although you’ve never caught him during a rut before.

Now that you’re living in the same vicinity as the man, you’re (un)fortunate enough to catch it. And it definitely is strange for him, there are unusual feelings that weren’t there before you had arrived.

There was a strange sense of protectiveness he had over you.

Presently, it is the beginning of October in the depths of Hell. You decided to start the day by baking, because why not! You look at recipes for little desserts and find one for chocolate chip cookies that you had ingredients for.

You were in the hotel kitchen, an old 50’s song track on in the background as you mix up the cookie batter, you hum along happily mixing.

You hear a familiar popping of static in the air behind you, turning your head around to see your dear friend making an appearance from out of the shadows.

“Ah! What’s all this, my dear?” He tilts his head a little, smiling wide as per usual, you smiled back at him.

“Baking, I’m making cookies!!” You beamed, his smile became that little bit wider.

“How lovely!”

He likes a girl that can bake, and although he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, he still admires your efforts, he loves watching you either way.

Now that he thinks about it, he loves watching you do anything. Whether that’s reading, walking, talking, laughing, smiling..

His smile tightens at his thoughts, feeling fidgety all of a sudden, theres a fuzzy feeling in his stomach that seems to grow the more he thinks.

He blinks a couple times as his eyebrows furrowed, watching as you hum and pour the chocolate chips into the batter and stirred, gently folding over the mixture.

Too busy to notice that you have turned around once more, watching him stare at your delicate fingers.

“Would you like to stir?”

You smile, moving to the side a little, he seems to snap out of whatever trance he was in as you spoke, stepping forward and in front of the bowl and taking hold of the wooden spoon.

“Now.. the trick is to fold the batter gently, so the texture is kept light, like this..”

You slide your soft hand onto his, guiding the spoon across the mixture.

His chest felt a little tight as he breathed, looking down at your hand on top of his. Oh gosh, he swears he’s never felt this… fuzzy before.

What’s the matter with him? Why is he having these odd thoughts. He’s known you for decades, why are these strange… perverse.. thoughts pushing their way into his brain? Surely this was beneath him.

He couldn’t keep his crimson eyes off of your hands on his, good grief, was it warm in there? Why had he began to feel himself sweat?

He should get a hold of himself, really. A sweet little lady like you? He can’t believe himself.

What are you doing to him?

[skyrigel]

Can you write an image in which Benedict is obsessed with Y/N and is always looking for reasons to touch her. However, Y/N knows that when it comes to women, Benedict quickly gets what he wants... sex. She keeps him waiting and doesn’t sleep with him until the wedding day.

Obsessed with you | I

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Benedict bridgerton x afab!reader

Synopsis: Ton's most eligible bachelor is obsessed with the mystery lady in silver, and would do anything to have her

Warning: Reader's mother has issues, scandalous family, last name Rose for convience, Benedict being a smug bastard, some regency class differences, cute Polin, cute kathony, minor non-con touching, smoking cigar, lots of teasing and ofcourse obsessive and possession behaviour. Might be toxic! Benedict but please he's a cutie.

Dearest gentle readers,

While for sure we have seen former Rake now Kate's beloved whipped husband, and Colin bridgerton who is so smitten with his dearest wife that it will not come forward a surprise if he hasn't set foot out in all these days, but Benedict bridgerton is neither whipped nor smitten, he is, as the poets would whisper, obsessed. It will be amusing to know who this mystery lady is, with her dazzling silver gown and piercing eyes, sharp enough as she carved the gentleman's heart out.

Benedict was a man for art and muse so forgive him if he got so obsessed with you, the real question was, how could he not ? You were the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, clad in your most dazzling blue dress that he wanted nothing but to take off.

" She exaggerates." Anthony pouted, he shouldn't know that he had but he's been pouting a lot lately, it's called 'kateffect'

" No, you've been domesticated brother, just admit it, Kate has tamed you." Colin peppered, sprawling down next to Anthony who greeted him with the most glaring glare.

" Like you're any better." Anthony smirked, setting his gaze on Benedict who read the index again.

" Penelope doesn't know her name ? " Benedict worried his jaw, looking between his brothers.

" I take that back, Penelope didn't exaggerate, you're really very much obsessed." Anthony remarked, Colin nodded.

" Oi, she would've known your mystery lady's full name and history but—"

" Don't complete that, I'll duel you."

" In the middle of a ball ? " Benedict laughed, eyes amused, Colin turned a crimson red.

" Rather tempting—"

" Oi! " Anthony raised his brow, his mouth curving in disdain, as Colin staggered away, leaving Anthony praying to lord behind like he was any better.

" Oh dear." Benedict smiled when once alone, thumb caressing the index, as if it was the mystery lady in silver blue gown, accused of taking away the gentleman's heart.

" Who are you ? " He whispered.

_

" Ma'am, would you like something else ? " Mrs. Turner asked once you were seated on your dressing, playing with several glassy bottles with colourful scenty substances.

" In yesterday's masquerade ball, I was dancing with a Bridgerton—" Mrs. Turner tutted softly," He's Benedict bridgerton, i assume."

" Yes, indeed, the only bachelor bridgerton boy of age." Mrs. Turner pulled the corset strings and you gasped, feeling your internals squeeze in the process.

You smiled, thinking about the way Benedict looked at you, all stars in his eyes.

" I..it is not my place miss but as your well wisher, i would say.." she worried her jaw.

" It's okay Mrs. Turner, you should speak your mind." You assured her, feeling her fingers stop at your back as she looked at your reflection in the mirror.

" Benedict bridgerton's a rake, unlike any other gentleman... he's known to engage women with class and wits...artists, musicians, and other dimplomacy that are odd amongst our sex."

" Oh." You nodded, feeling stupid enough to think those were meant for you, like they were of real affection.

" I wouldn't want you any harm, after your father's death and your inheritance affairs, you couldn't afford another scandal, for a good match—"

" My virtue should stay intact ? " You raised your chin, examining the stain of rose on your lips.

" Your sister was a good girl madam, so are you." Mrs. Turner smiled, her eyes crinkling with deepest concerns.

-

Benedict's eyes were searching for you everywhere, he has been waiting for you since so long. Despite anxious mamas forcing introductions and dances, he was looking only for you.

" Miss Rose." Benedict turned to see his sister in law, smiling a smirk, followed by her husband in tow.

" You wound me Pen, it's Benedict bridgerton! " He laughed, much to Colin's dismay.

" Oh well your mystery lady is Miss Rose, daughter of late Duke of Blair field and lady bloom." Colin was one step away from clapping.

" Wow." Benedict's mouth curved in a delightful 'o'.

" Oh well they are rather scandalous, her sister was rumoured to be not a virgin which deceased all of her prospects of marriages, her mother is rather protective of her."

" Pen, did I tell you how you're my favourite sister ? " Benedict perked his gaze towards the entrance, hoping for you to bless him.

" Don't let Eloise hear that." Colin said, outstretching his arm that Penelope held as they swirled between the crowd, laughing.

_

" You shall not be unchaperoned." Your mother had a faraway look in her eyes, her hand was trembling and you surged the desire to just hold it.

" I understand, mama." You bowed your head once, trying to forget the trembling of her hands.

" Don't engage in gossips dearest, better keep to yourself and..." She forgot what she was saying, her lips trembling along, you looked at Mrs. Turner with a pleading gaze.

" Ma'am, we must make haste." She simply said, your mother spared a glance to you, her mouth tightening around the corners.

" You look beautiful child." She looked away, you pretended not to see the tear that glistented down her cheek.

After securing yourself in the carriage, with your dress squeezing the life out you, you finally breathed.

" I envy Gissele." You said softly, caressing the uneven glittering fake diamonds.

" She would say the same." Mary mumbled, she was Mrs. Turner's daughter who rather got scolded every often for being too blunt. You liked her alot.

" Oh wouldn't it be so wonderful to just lay in bed, reading a book and wearing simple soft dresses." You perked up at the idea of a life like that, a simple homely cottage, filled with warmth and sweetness and books.

" But the society has it's own fun, look at you, pretty dresses, pretty shoes, and all those prince charming lords." Mary took your fan and mimicked the motion, you smiled.

" Well you could always borrow a dress, have some fun." Your eyes glinted, Mary shaked her head.

" C'mon." You grabbed her wrist, shaking them, up and down profusely.

" No, mama will kill me ! "

" But the fun ?! No one would know, they haven't seen me, they don't know me."

" Well i can't pretend to be you, what would happen if somebody caught us."

" Don't then, be yourself ! Mary Turner."

" Sounds like a bad idea." Mary said, her smile deceived her.

" Lord Turner of Riverdales, be their relative, no one hardly pays attention."

" Whistledown does." Mary narrowed her eyes, you looked out to make sure you haven't yet reached.

" Well she called me a mystery woman who apparantly took a gentleman's heart."

" Oh Mr. Bridgerton's a known gentleman." You scoffed at that, Mary's brow knitted together as she studied you.

" What ? He's a rake." You brushed the tingling away, feeling the way Benedict's gaze lingered on you, the way he twirled you around like you were the only real thing, the way he flushed and stumbled through his words, attempting to know absolutely anything about you.

" I highly doubt that, never heard anything about him."

" Presumably he has a longing for accomplised women." You finger quoted it with a scowl that was too unladylike, Mary bursted into fits of giggles.

" What ? " You poked her, she shaked with her guffaw, chortling in her way.

" You fancy him." She said, chuckling the ' him' away, you frowned deeply, heart leaping at the ton that was gathered outside lady Danbury's exquisite ball.

" Utter rubbish. Do you still want to have fun ? " You asked, Mary smiled.

_

Benedict gaze perked up when you and Mary stumbled through the ball, Mary was almost shaking and you were sure her clothes didn't fit much to you, you felt your back prickling with burning gaze and you turned.

" Told you he's a rake. Don't be friendly to him." You whispered to Mary who was about to run when Benedict dropped his conversation with lord White, swaggering towards you.

" What if he recognises you ? " She mumbled and your lower lip trembled, but that's not possible, your mask obscured your whole face except your lips and eyes and certainly he hadn't painted you in his mind, afterall he shouldn't be that obsessed.

" My lady." He bowed, his gaze locking in yours as he kissed the hand Mary very reluctantly gave him, he was amused when Mary mumbled a hasty greeting, her manners mimicked.

" You look exquisite, more than the ball itself." He was clearly flattered when Mary blinked hard, looking at you for help.

You rolled your eyes when Benedict too, looked at you with a similar pleading as Mary.

" Forgive me my lord, my lady is tired—"

" We haven't been introduced i remember, Benedict bridgerton." He grinned, he actually freaking grinned as Mary glanced at you with the corner of her eye.

" Lady Mariam Turner." She blurted it quickly, looking at you for approval, " A pleasure." Mary smiled, you nodded.

" Forgive me Mr. Bridgerton." You cleared your throat, Benedict's gaze penetrated through you, he was setting you on fire and you couldn't do anything but to burn.

" My lady is tired, you must excuse us." You felt your throat dry, your whole body withering when Benedict narrowed his eyes, lingering specifically on your lips and treading down slowly.

" Indeed, I must not keep you." He cocked his head to Mary, humming along as you strode past him. You were sure he only whispered the ' not ' out of curtsy.

_

" That was bloody brilliant ! " You giggled while Mary shaked her head, clutching her bossom. Your footsteps echoing in the abandoned corridor, stiffling back your giggles.

" That was bloody scary and I can't breathe." Mary heaved, her breath easing when you patted her back.

" Lady Mariam Turner." You teased, bumping your hip as Mary looked at you, gasping scandalously.

" Shut up. I almost died." Mary pulled her dress that sticked to her skin, trying to fan in some air.

" Do you think he recognised me ? " Your cheeks blazed at the heat of the memory of him, his teasing glances and amused smiles.

" I...I think it was rather amusing that we were messing up, did you see how I trembled? " Mary shaked her hand, as you laughed at the display.

" No, my lady." You said, once your giggles subsided, " You were exquisite."

Mary wacked your arm, her smile unable to hide through the twitch of her lips.

" So, shall we go home ? "

" Would you mind waiting in the carriage ? "

" Don't tell me—" Mary glared, you pouted with puppy eyes.

" Please, you know it's my only way."

" Smoking is bad." Mary declared, " and for men." She added grimly, you nodded along, grabbing her wrist.

" Please, please, please."

" Only if you give back my clothes, i miss them." She touched the soft cotton of her clothes that you were wearing, you perked up eagerly.

_

You took joy at the puffs of smoke that ridiculed the air, the night chill freezing it into clouds of silvery mist.

Mary was dozing off in the carriage until it was time to go home, so early arrival doesn't raise any questions and your mother fast asleep, her trembling lipped questions saved for the next day.

" I thought your lady was tired." You almost dropped your cigar, jumping up the swing as it creaked at sudden outburst.

" Don't drop it, i don't have any with me." His smile was too big and smug for his face, his nonchalance dripped as he took the swing opposite of you. You stared, for some reason cigar still burning in intricate yellow blazing circles, dropping to ashes.

" Forgive me my lord—" you just remembered you were no longer in Mary's clothes.

" That's the only line you grasped so far ? " Benedict leaned on his swing, catching your wrist as he dragged you to sit.

You sat down with a thud, swing jiggling with your weight as you processed his smile.

" I..." You stammered, flushing in heat as he inhaled you in, you were back in your clothes, the one you were supposed to wear. And Mary was right, you couldn't breathe.

" I would say you look beautiful, in everything, in anything..or—" in nothing.

" I should leave." You throat itched.

" Stay." He was soft, almost a whine, a plead.

" Please don't tell anyone." You tried your best persuading smile, it worked on Gissele all the time, your lips pouting and eyes shining with stars.

Benedict's mouth curved in a smile, he clicked his tongue as he attempted to speak but he found he couldn't. A pause, then—

" You love tormenting me, don't you ? " Benedict took the burning cigar from you, locking your eyes with his own as he brought it to his mouth, a sound escaped him as his lips curved around the warmness that belonged to you, he inhaled deeply.

" I don't know what you're talking about." You tore away you eyes from the erotic display of smoking, he hummed in a dry scoff.

" Ofcourse, you wouldn't." He offered the Cigar back, every word coated with sarcasm.

The breeze was so cold that you shivered, moon hanging low in the night sky and every star stared back, Sirius, Rigel, and all of them.

" I never meant to offend you." You took the cigar back, his fingers brushed, a electrifying wave rippling inside you, like the way he held your hand and danced with you in the masquerade ball.

You noticed his flexing but said nothing, heart beating too fast to be sane and alive.

" Miss Rose—" you gasped, how could he know your name, "—have you ever been kissed ? "

" I...Benedict..lord." you clamped your mouth shut, lips suddenly struck by a bolt as they buzzed.

He leaned as you felt your back touching the rope of swing, his face too close... would he kiss you ? Would it be as electrifying as the rest of his touches ? Would you survive it or simply burn like a pheonix ?

" It's okay, we would alot when we get married. " He took away the cigar and dropped it as it was so close to burn your skin, smiling all the while. Was that a proposal ?

" Go home, it's getting cold, Mrs-yet-to-be bridgerton." And he pressed his lips against your forehead, his smile caressing your heart.

Rigel's note 🪩: while I loved this idea especially the hilarious ' Benedict gets what he wants....sex ' but I needed to base it, so it doesn't come as pervy and non con as it might, to make it comfortable enough to write on my part, I have tried to break it into parts, this part is generally meet up and getting obsession with y/n ( no use in fic ) and other will be courting and marriage bliss. Gif not mine.

[suunani]

crimson love ( park sunghoon )

▍ you learn that love isn’t always enough and can’t save everything.

content : 3.7k words, royalty!au, knight!male reader, prince!sunghoon, impossible love, they are nawt happy, sunghoon is kind of cold at first, reader call sunghoon 'my prince' & 'my love', angst, making out, slightly suggestive, cursing.

note : omg this is the first time i’ve written something like this, but i poured a lot of effort into making the emotions and situations believable, so i really hope it resonates with you!

the flickering candlelight cast long shadows against the cold stone walls of the prince’s private chamber, but the room felt suffocating in a way that no shadow could ever explain.

you knelt in front of sunghoon, your back straight because that's what a knight should look like, but your shoulders hunched because you didn't know how to hold the weight of what you were about to tell him.

“your highness…” you began, your voice a quiet rasp, carefully controlled but laced with something raw — something barely contained. “i'll get rid of her for you.”

the words spilled out, desperate, earnest, and dangerous. you knew they were too bold, too reckless, but in this moment, there was nothing more important than removing the threat looming over him.

you didn't even realize how tightly your hands were balled into fists until you felt your nails digging into your palms. you looked up at him, searching his face for something, anything — but all you got back was that unreadable expression he always wore.

the one that made him feel like he was miles away even when he was right in front of you.

for a moment, the only sound in the room was your breathing, uneven and shaky. sunghoon didn't say a word. his gloved hand hovered near yours, but he didn't touch you.

that, more than anything, made your chest ache.

you couldn't stop yourself. you reached out, your fingers, calloused from years of service and battle, were gentle as they clasped his hand, your touch as tender as ever — so gentle it almost felt wrong — though the rest of you screamed with the weight of your emotions.

you had never dared to show this side of yourself, this rawness. you had always been the strong knight, unwavering, a protector of the prince, of the crown. but now, in this desperate hour, your loyalty, your love, your sacrifice, spilled out in front of him, uncontrollable.

“my prince— my love,” you tried again, your voice breaking on the words, and you hated how small you sounded, how vulnerable.

but there was no hiding from him. not now.

"please. i'll do it. i don't care what it costs me. i would rot in prison if you asked me to. i would go to the ends of the earth, beyond the gates of hell, if it meant keeping you safe. keeping you away from her."

you didn't mean to say that last part, but it slipped out anyway, and now it was just hanging in the air between you, like an accusation. like a confession.

you expected him to get angry. to pull away completely. but instead, something in his eyes shifted.

for the briefest second, his guard dropped, and you saw it — saw him. the sunghoon you'd fallen for, the one who smiled at you like you were his whole world when no one else was watching. the one who kissed you like it hurt to let go.

but it was gone as fast as it came, replaced by that same cold, unreachable mask he always wore. he pulled his hand back sharply, and the ache in your chest turned into something sharper, something that made it hard to breathe.

“you don’t know what you’re saying,” he said finally, his voice tight, controlled.

but you knew better. you knew that the mask he wore was thin, fragile. it wasn’t anger that clouded his features. it was despair.

“i never asked you to do this. not for me. not for anyone. i never wanted you to.”

you didn’t flinch, even though his words cut deeper than he could have known. you couldn’t afford to.

"you don't have to ask," you shot back, and this time your voice didn't shake. you were done pretending. "i'd do anything for you, my prince. you know that."

you wasnt stupid. you were well aware of your place in the world — you always had.

you were a nobody, an orphan, a lost soul abandoned by everyone who had to claw his way out of the streets just to survive. you'd lost everything before you even knew what it meant to have something to lose. you didn't even deserve to be in this room with him.

but sunghoon had chosen you.

he found you in the rain, a chance encounter that had changed the course of your life forever. he had seen something in you that no one else ever had. he had brought you into the fold, given you purpose, given you a future — though you had never dared to imagine what that future might hold.

and somewhere along the way, you'd given him everything in return.

without question, without hesitation.

you had become his knight, his loyal protector, but more than that — his secret lover, when no one else was watching. you had given your body, your heart, your soul to him, knowing full well that it could never be enough.

sunghoon was the prince. his future, his throne, his empire, everything came before you, before your love. and you had accepted that, as painful as it was.

but now, this woman — olivia, the woman sunghoon had been promised to, was the final blow. she wasn’t worthy of him. she couldn’t love him the way you did. she didn't even deserve to be near him.

her every action, her every smile, was a mockery of everything sunghoon stood for. and you, as his knight, as his lover, couldn’t stand to see him bound to someone who would tarnish his name. someone who would drag him into the mud.

“that woman will drag you down with her,” you said, and the words came out harder than you meant them to, but you didn't care.

your hands was still clasping his as if you could somehow hold onto him, keep him from slipping away.

“she frequents brothels. she has not an ounce of loyalty in her. she would make you appear incompetent in the eyes of your people. your enemies would see it, and they will use it against you. she'll destroy everything you've worked for.”

you could see his jaw tighten, his fingers flexing slightly, as if resisting the urge to throw something, to lash out. the room felt heavier with each passing second.

but he didn't say anything. not yet.

“i’ve had her followed,” you continued, your tone fierce now, fueled by the rage and protectiveness you couldn’t mask. “i know what she’s been doing, where she's been going. and i can’t— no, i won’t let her ruin you.”

sunghoon’s breath quickened, his chest rising and falling with each labored inhale.

his entire body had stiffened, the tension radiating from him like a tightly wound cord threatening to snap. you could see the storm brewing behind his eyes — the conflict, the weight of everything he carried on his shoulders.

because deep down, he knew you were right.

you had seen things. heard things. you had watched olivia, followed her every move. olivia was poison. she had seduced every man in her path, her charms a weapon she wielded without mercy.

and her engagement to sunghoon wasn't love — it was a calculated political arrangement. a tool to strengthen the empire, to solidify alliances.

but at what cost? his heart? his future? the very essence of who he was?

sunghoon finally met your eyes, and there was no hiding the conflict swirling within them.

he opened his mouth as if to speak, but the words never came. instead, silence fell between you, heavy and oppressive, as though the weight of his situation was too much for him to put into words.

his father, the emperor, had fallen ill, leaving sunghoon to take the throne far earlier than he had ever expected, far earlier than he was ready. his younger sister had been sent away to marry the tyrant of a neighboring empire, leaving sunghoon to stand alone amidst the chaos.

alone with all with all the expectations and burdens of the empire on his shoulders.

your chest tightened as you watched him, your heart aching with a love so deep and consuming it made your breath catch. you wanted to reach for him, to hold him, to take some of that weight from his shoulders and carry it yourself.

"you deserve someone better, my love," you said quietly, your voice breaking with the emotion you had kept buried for so long. "someone who will stand by you, someone who will love you. not this woman."

at first, sunghoon didn't respond. his eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze growing colder. but it wasn’t aimed at you. it was directed inward.

you could see it, the bitterness and frustration that had been simmering inside him for weeks, for months, for years. it bubbled to the surface now, spilling over in a way he could no longer control.

"i never wanted this," he whispered, his voice so quiet it was almost swallowed by the silence of the room.

the words weren't for you, not really — they were more for himself, a confession dragged from the deepest parts of his soul.

"i never asked for this. i never asked to be emperor. i never wanted to marry her. but my parents, my duty..." his voice cracked, his fists clenching. "they've left me with no choice."

the rawness of his admission struck you like a blow, but you swallowed the ache rising in your throat. this was the ugly truth you had always known, the truth you had seen in the quiet moments when he thought no one was watching.

sunghoon was a man trapped in a cage of his own making, bound by a life that demanded everything from him but gave him nothing in return.

“i would kill anyone who stands in the way of your happiness,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper now, raw with sincerity. “if that’s what it takes… i will do it without hesitation.”

sunghoon didn't say anything. he just stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, but you could see the conflict in his eyes. the way his walls were crumbling, piece by piece.

and then, with a sharp, decisive movement, he broke.

before you could process what was happening, his hands were on you, pulling you up to him with a force that stole the breath from your lungs.

his lips crashed against yours, desperate and hungry, as though kissing you was the only way he could keep himself from falling apart completely.

it was sudden. it was urgent. it was desperate.

it was everything you had been holding back for so long, all at once.

his kiss slammed into you with a force that left you breathless, a bruising, consuming need that neither of you could suppress anymore. you felt it deep in your bones, the way his lips moved against yours with a hunger that bordered on fear — as if he was afraid that if he didn't kiss you now, he'd lose you forever.

you didn't hold back. you couldn't. your hands gripped at his waist, pulling him closer, trying to erase the space between you as if it was the enemy. your fingers curled into the fabric of his coat, desperate to ground yourself in the heat of him, the reality of this moment.

his lips tasted like fire, like the only answer to every prayer you had ever whispered in the dark. and his hands, god, his hands, they clutched at you with the same frantic energy, like you were the one thing keeping him from shattering into pieces.

your fingers traced the sharp lines of his jaw, sliding down to the curve of his neck. every inch of him was warm under your touch, and you were desperate to memorize the feel of him, the way he trembled under your hands.

sunghoon's breathing hitched against your lips, and it only spurred you on. you deepened the kiss, tilting your head, pulling him further into the storm that the two of you had created. his body shuddered against yours, and you knew it wasn't just from the intensity of the kiss — it was the weight of everything unsaid between you. everything that was about to break between you.

but in this moment, none of that mattered.

the kiss spiraled into something more urgent, more primal. you felt all the years of silence, of restraint, breaking apart with each desperate touch. his lips were soft but demanding, moving against yours with a frantic hunger that you had never seen before.

his tongue traced the edges of your mouth, sending a rush of heat through your veins that left you lightheaded. you couldn't get enough of him — his scent, his warmth, the way his hands slid up to your shoulders and clung to you like you were the only thing anchoring him to this damn world.

it wasn't enough. it would never be enough.

you felt the sting of his nails digging into your shoulders through the fabric of your uniform, but it didn't matter. the pain only made everything sharper, clearer. you wanted all of him, every jagged piece of the man who had captured your heart so completely, no matter how much it hurt.

but then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.

sunghoon pulled back, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. his lips were swollen and red, his eyes wide and glistening, as if he was trying to process what had just happened. he looked wrecked, like the weight of the kiss — the weight of what you both felt — was too much for him to bear.

and you hated how cold the room felt now, the warmth of his body already fading as the space between you returned.

you didn't let go of him. fuck, you couldn't. your hands were still trembling as they rested against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. it was wild and erratic, matching your own, but even that wasn't enough to soothe the ache building in your chest.

"sunghoon, my love..." you whispered, your voice barely audible.

but the sound of his name coming from your lips made his eyes dart to yours. there was fear there. fear, frustration and something that looked like regret.

“you— you don’t know what you’re asking of me,” he muttered, his voice tight and strained.

his gaze darted away, his hands falling from your shoulders as though the contact was too much to bear.

“you want me to abandon everything. everything i've ever known. everything i was born to do. everything i've ever been. i can’t… i can’t do that, y/n.”

the words hit you like a knife to the chest, and you felt your throat tighten. you could feel the truth, the brutal reality, beginning to claw its way back into the space between you. sunghoon was trapped. as much as he loved you, as much as he wanted to be with you, he was bound to the empire.

you had known this would happen. you had always known it would come to this, but hearing it from him, hearing the defeat in his voice, the finality of it, was way more than you could handle.

"i can’t lose you," you said, your voice trembling. "you know i would give up everything for you. i would leave this place, leave the kingdom, everything, just to be with you. please. we could escape. we could run away and live a life just for the two of us. i don't care about the empire, about the politics, or about your engagement. i only care about you. about us."

for a moment, his mask slipped. his face flickered with an emotion so fleeting, you almost thought you had imagined it — it was a spark of something that looked like hope.

and then, for the briefest heartbeat, you saw him.

the man beneath the title. the sunghoon who had laughed with you under the stars, fought beside you on countless battles, kissed you in the quiet shadows where no one could see. you saw the sunghoon who had stolen your heart and, in return, made you believe in something greater than yourself.

but the moment didn't last.

sunghoon stepped back, retreating into himself, his expression hardening into the stoic mask of the prince he was trained to be. the weight of his crown, of his kingdom, settled back on his shoulders. he was no longer the man you loved.

he was the heir — bound by duty, by legacy, by chains you couldn't see but could feel pressing between you.

“you think i don’t dream about that?” sunghoon's voice cracked, his frustration spilling through the cracks in his composure.

his fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to hold himself together. his eyes bore into yours, searching for an answer, but there was nothing you could give him. nothing either of you could say would change the truth between you.

“you think i don’t want to run away with you? to leave all of this behind? i’ve dreamed about it every day since i met you. every fucking day. but i can’t. i can’t just abandon everything that’s been entrusted to me. i can't abandon my duty, my family, my people. they're counting on me. i can't be selfish, not even for you.”

his words cut through you like a blade.

you wanted to scream, to beg him to stop, to tell him that he was allowed to be selfish, that he was allowed to choose happiness.

but you couldn't. instead, you stepped closer, your heart breaking as you reached for him, your voice trembling as you tried one last time to reach the man you knew still lived beneath the surface.

“you don’t have to carry it alone. let me carry it with you. let me be the one who stands by your side, always. please, you don't have to do this on your own.”

for a moment, he faltered. his shoulders sagged, and his gaze fell to the floor. the weight of what you were asking settled over him, and you could see the war raging inside him — the push and pull of duty and love, of obligation and desire. and for just a moment, you thought he might give in.

but when he lifted his head again, his eyes were filled with a sadness so deep, so consuming, it left you out of breath.

"if i run away with you..." his voice was strained, barely audible, but you could hear the pain in each word. "i would be nothing. a fugitive, a traitor to my people, to my family. and you... you would be too."

his eyes flickered up to meet yours, and the anguish there made your breath catch.

"you deserve more than that, y/n. you deserve to be free. you deserve someone who can give you everything without holding anything back."

your head shook before you even realized it, tears stinging your eyes as you took another step closer. the space between you still felt too vast, too unbearable.

"i don't care about the empire, sunghoon," you said, your voice breaking as your hands cupped his face. you needed him to hear you, to understand. "i care about you. i always have."

he closed his eyes at your touch, his features twisting in a way that made your heart clench painfully. a shudder ran through his body, and for a fleeting moment, you thought he might finally let go. that he might finally let himself choose you.

but when his eyes opened again, they were filled with a deep sadness — a sadness that had always lingered beneath the surface, but now it consumed him fully.

“i love you,” he whispered, the words barely audible, as though saying them any louder might destroy him completely. “i love you more than anything. but i can’t leave this kingdom. i can’t abandon my father, my people, my duty.”

the finality of his words slammed into you like a physical blow. your chest tightened, your lungs straining to take in air as the truth settled heavily around you. there was no more room for hope, no more room for the dreams of a future you had once dared to imagine.

it was over.

the empire had claimed him.

and you… well, you had always known that you would be the one left behind, hadn't you?

the silence between you stretched out, unbearable. you felt your hands fall from his face, trembling as they rested uselessly at your sides. your heart ached with the kind of pain you didn't think you'd ever recover from, but you knew you couldn't fight anymore.

you had given him everything — your loyalty, your love, your very soul — and now you had nothing left to give. now he was slipping through your fingers like sand.

“i can’t ask you to choose, sunghoon,” you whispered, your voice raw and broken. “but i can’t stay in a kingdom that has no place for me. not when it means losing you.”

his eyes met yours, his face a mask of conflicted emotions that only made the ache in your chest worse. his lips parted slightly, as though he wanted to say something, anything, to stop you, to make this all go away. but no words came.

and you knew, deep down, that there was nothing he could say.

with a shaking breath, you took a step back, letting your hands fall to your sides. the coldness in the air felt like a physical blow, and you felt as though you were standing at the edge of a cliff, the ground crumbling beneath your feet.

“goodbye, my love,” you said softly, your voice trembling but steady enough to carry the weight of your heartache. “i’ll always love you. always.”

his eyes widened, panic flashing in them like a warning flare. but you didn’t wait for him to respond. you turned away, your heart shattering with every step you took away from him.

the door to his chambers opened with a low creak, and you stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, your feet carrying you farther and farther away from the only person who had ever truly mattered to you.

he didn’t chase after you. he didn’t call your name.

you hadn't expected him to.

[acourtofpenandpaper]

The Bat Boys react to your new set of lingerie (ACOTAR Imagine)

Tags: Acotar bat boys x Reader, spicy tension, 18+, imagine, reactions

Masterlist Masterlist Mobile

Rhysand:

"What did I do to deserve this wonderful sight in front of me?"

"I don't know, being the best High Lord that I ever had the pleasure to meet?" You ask cheekily, climbing onto his lap. Immediately, his hands meet the sides of your hips and squeeze your sensitive skin.

"That doesn't mean anything, given that you only met the High Lord of the Night Court", he pouts.

"It means something to me. Also, I am sure that no other High Lord is as good-looking like yourself", you say and caress his cheek with your thumb, resulting in a low rumble from his throat.

His eyes pierce through you as he takes in the delicate design of the night-blue bralette you are wearing.

Slowly, you reach down to his ear and whisper: "The panties have an opening...for fun activities. Want to try it out?"

In an instant, you feel him go hard under you but you have no time to assess his reaction. You squeak as he lifts you up and places you against the pillows of the large bed you share.

"You know my answer to this question", he says as he pulls his dress shirt over his head.

Cassian:

His eyes go wide as you enter your living room in the small apartment in Velaris and his smile goes even wider. Cassian sits upright and lets his gaze roam over your body.

Your body that was covered by as little fabric as possible. The no cup bra push up your tits fabulously. You had discovered this set while out shopping with Mor and you went back to the store to try it on alone.

So yeah, you enjoy Cassian obviously going feral about this new set because it cost you a half of week's work. But in the end, given his reaction, it was worth it.

"What do you say?" You croon and stop right in front of him.

Your question is entirely rhetorical because you are able to read his thoughts by just looking him in the eyes. They are painted by pure lust.

Without breaking eye contact with you, his hands find the zipper of his pants and he pulls them down, letting free his already hard cock.

"Down on your knees for me." He growls.

His wish is your command, you think as you lower your mouth on him.

Azriel:

"Don't look! It's a surprise!" You shout from the bathroom.

But who are you kidding, given that your boyfriend is a spymaster. His job is literally being not surprised by anthing. Ever.

Trying to clasp the bra, you smile to yourself. Calling Azriel your boyfriend still has a nice ring to it. And you are sure that you will never get tired of it.

"I am not looking, just laying down on the bed like you told me to. I swear." He calls from the other room.

Finally, you adjust the straps from the crimson bra with matching panties and smile to your mirror image. Somehow, you get nervous now and you don't really get why.

Azriel loved you, he has previously said so. No need to be nervous.

"Is everything okay?"

You take a deep breath and emerge from the bathroom, just to be met with Azriel's worried gaze. But seeing you standing in the doorway, his eyes immediately soften.

"Oh", he murmurs.

Your hands twitch to the delicate fabric of your panties. "Do you not like it?"

His eyes light up and he quickly shakes his head. "No, it's just when I saw the set in the bag before..."

"So you saw it before! I should have known!" You exclaim and he laughs in response, catching your hand and pulling you onto his lap. His hands graze your hips.

"Yes, I caught a glimpse of it earlier. You should find better hiding spots in the closet."

You give him a stern look but smile at the same time. It is all in good fun. He always catches your surprises.

"But if you would let me finish my sentence...I would have said that I saw it but my imagination could never have predicted how utterly beautiful you look in this."

And just like that, all your doubts vanish as he catches your mouth with his.

Let me know if you have requests for other reactions for the bat boys (or other Acotar and BG3 characters!). This was fun:)

[withering-bloom]

Another Arlecchino x reader from me…wow what a surprise.

This is kinda angst if you really really squint alittle but I cried too much last night that all the angst is out of me 😼 This is more comfort drabble :3..this was also kinda rushed

@edgeray I luv you thank you once again 🐺‼️

“You never take your gloves off.”

Your voice was quiet, barely more than a breath between the two of you. Your fingers hesitated just above hers, waiting—always waiting—for the moment she would pull away. But this time, she didn’t.

Arlecchino only watched you, expression unreadable, her crimson eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite name. She had built walls so high, so impenetrable, that you had long since accepted she would never let you past them.

And yet, here you were.

Slowly, cautiously, you reached for her hand, your fingers slipping beneath the edge of her glove, tugging at the fabric. It should’ve been a simple thing. And yet, she had never let you do this before.

The material slid off too easily, and what lay beneath made your breath catch in your throat.

Her skin—if it can even be called that anymore—is blackened like burnt embers, veins dark and twisted beneath the surface. The curse warps the flesh, creeping up past her wrists, disappearing beneath the sleeves of her coat. It doesn’t stop there. You know it doesn’t.

Her hands curl into fists, a reflex she can’t suppress. “This is why.” Her voice is low, rough. “This is why I keep them covered.”

She expects you to recoil. To shrink away. To confirm what she has always known.

That she is something to be feared.

You don’t move.

Instead, you reach out, slow, deliberate. Fingers ghosting over the darkened ridges of her knuckles, tracing the places where the curse has twisted and burned. No hesitation. No revulsion.

“You should let them breathe.” The words are soft, a sentiment you’ve repeated countless times. “Even just for a little while.”

A sharp exhale. Her gaze flickers to your hands—unmarked, untouched by horrors like hers. You are everything she isn’t. Everything she has convinced herself she doesn’t deserve.

And yet, here you are. Holding her like she isn’t a monster.

Like she isn’t cursed.

A scoff, more exasperation than anything else. “You’re a fool.”

But she doesn’t pull away.

For a moment—just a moment—she allows herself to be selfish. A breath, a shift, and then her lips find yours. Fleeting. Desperate. Burning with everything she refuses to say.

And just as quickly, it’s over.

She tears herself away, slipping the glove back on with swift, practiced movements. As if it erases the moment. As if it never happened.

“I have to go.” Clipped. Final.

You nod, even as something inside you feels hollowed out.

She turns without another word, the air thick with everything neither of you are willing to face.

Because Arlecchino was never meant to hold something as fragile as love.

And even if she wanted to—her hands were never meant to touch something as soft as you.

Godbless Pinterest

[ericscroptop]

Make You Rock-Hard

✧ pairing: rockstar! sunwoo x fem! reader

✦ genre: smut

✧ warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), mentions of alcohol and drinking, smut, tipsy/intoxicated sex, reader tries to play hard to get and stand up for herself but fails miserably, situationship? unprotected sex (pls wrap it yall…), mirror sex, dirty talk, sunwoo’s hitting it from the back, fingering, praising, pet names, cursing, kissing, marking, flirty sunwoo, hints of jealousy from reader, brief mention of him being a manwhore, some angst

✦ word count: 7.1k words

✧ synopsis: you should’ve known pursing a relationship with a rising rockstar wouldn’t be easy. nonetheless, you can’t stray away.

✦ note: you can view sunwoo in this as a master manipulator/sleeze or a genuinely clueless, but ultimate simp for you— it’s up to the reader’s interpretation ;)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚

The raw, bitter taste of the liquid you just downed burns your throat, face grimacing slightly as a result.

Even more so when you don’t have a chaser, or even a lime on standby to counteract the strong taste.

But it’s honestly fitting. On the inside, you’re feeling sour. Pissed that you’ve found yourself here at this night club.

It was jam-packed, filled to the brim with people. They roamed freely around the room with laughter despite the overstimulation from the music booming and having to push past the crowd huddled together like sardines in a can.

Mostly everyone were either already, or on the verge of being wasted from sipping on alcoholic beverages, and/or doing unspeakable substances in the crappy restrooms. You also can’t forget about the stench of weed that clung onto the attire of some. And the clouds in the air every minute or so when people took hits of their flavored vapes despite them being banned in this joint.

That was the typical scene for a place like this, so you shouldn’t be annoyed. If anything, you should be blending into the environment like the rest. But that’s not particularly what’s grinding your gears.

No, what’s irritating you is the fact that you’ve yet again ended up here solely for one man:

Kim Sunwoo.

He’s the reason why you’ve been spiraling almost every day from thinking about him. The reason why you can’t bother to even think about accepting the advances of someone else trying to hit on you, or even consider the thought of being physically involved with another body. Sunwoo is the reason why you keep coming back here.

You first met him months back. During that time, he had just started getting small gigs at local bars and clubs for his band, Crimson Longing, or CL for short.

You liked to go out every now and again for some drinks with your friends, not really for the music, but just to get drunk while hanging out.

And during one of those fateful nights you did such, you encountered him. With his charms, he had convinced the owner to let him debut on a small stage with his other members, Changmin and Juyeon.

Although they were just starting out, their talents shown off instantaneously drew attention. Juyeon on drums, Changmin on bass, and Sunwoo front and center, serving as the lead singer, accompanied with his electric guitar.

It was difficult to not have ones eyes glued to the group. There was this fire inside of them that was exuded through their performances. The energy carried while performing was captivating.

They visibly had a passion for performing and being in the limelight. The talent was there, showing off diverse direction within their performances and music. Although their genre was mostly rock, they did present elements of hip-hop and r&b sprinkled in some of their songs.

Sweat soaked the boys’ clothes and beaded down their foreheads well after every performance. They gave 110% each and every time, their energy infectious, expanding off into the crowd.

On stage, they’d engage with the audience, communicating with the dolled-up girls through flirtatious winks, and shouting out scintillating or cheeky commentary that made the audience howl and raise the roof with noise.

Not only were they skilled on their respective instruments, but they also were easy on the eyes. Dangerously alluring with that combo of gorgeous looks and being talented musicians.

I mean, who wouldn’t be attracted to or fall for these young guys in a band? Their styling consisted of dark, edgy attire and loads of accessories. They definitely looked the part of hot rockstars.

The clothing they wore corresponded with their cunning and chiseled faces. Their appearances stood out as intimidating with seductive undertones— especially their lead singer. He seemed like a mischievous-looking fucker.

Surprisingly enough, you ended up catching his eye.

Well… it shouldn’t have been surprising considering how much of an effortless charmer he was towards the girls up front that would bat their lashes, all provocative, and go as far as to shamelessly throw their bras on stage.

Whether or not he actually collected groupies and sought out for mindless fun with starving strangers, or was just a major tease remained a mystery to you to this day. Regardless, he fed into the attention he received with ease, even if he was just playing a role to the public.

From your very first glance and initial impression of him, you figured he was a man-whore. You have an idea of what the spotlight does to people’s ego, and no guy that looks like that is bound to be very ‘boy next door’ if you will.

Even so, you were no different than any other girl that got an ounce of attention from him. After countless games of eye tag, he eventually invited you back stage.

Your curiosity got the better of you, and although you were wary of him, your conscience advised you to fuck around and find out.

He complimented you, filled your ears with lines you wanted to roll your eyes at because you bet he has used them on other girls. Though, your cheeks and core flushed from the flattery otherwise.

You strived to remain nonchalant and not seem easy to his obvious advances, but he was a sweet talker. A very good one at that. You fell victim to his charisma, letting him butter you up and eventually have a taste of you.

The confirmation on whether or not he had his fun with other girls and just anyone was never clear. Nonetheless, you let him hit every time you attended one of his gigs. His efforts to woo and beguile you worked in his favor.

One night with you simply wasn’t enough. He found himself searching for your presence in the crowds. Suddenly you inhabited a spot in his head, and the songs and music he was performing were fueled with even more passion and enthusiasm because of you.

You were a wonderful fuck to him. Constantly being tantalized by the image of you, whether you were standing right in front of him, yards away, or even in your absence.

The demeanor you possessed was intriguing. He needed you to keep coming back for more of him. He needed you to make his nights and rock your world the way your beautiful ass deserved.

There was never a proper establishment or any communication regarding what this relationship meant, or was. You simply attended the clubs to watch him perform and end the night with hot and sweaty sex as often as you could.

You bit your tongue when it came to your second guessing or feelings that weren’t sexual. And you still persisted seeking out for him, never getting enough of him.

While everyone reeked of a little too much cologne and the devil’s lettuce, you reeked of desperation.

There was practically no contact outside his gigs, so you really only saw him in the dark, stuffy, and crammed place(s) where he delivered exhilarating shows. Followed by meeting you backstage in his room to have your own private and special show, his adrenaline pumping miles a many.

But as time went on, you grew exhausted.

Exhausted from coming to see him just for sex, no matter how delicious the dynamic was during it. Exhausted that you did all this for a boy who doesn’t bother to make efforts to see you outside backstage rooms. Exhausted that Kim Sunwoo roamed your mind day and night, driving you bonkers because he was too beautiful, dreamy, talented…

But it seemed like he didn’t care for you in the outside world.

You wanted more. Of course you fell hard for him. It doesn’t help that lately Crimson Longing is getting loads of gigs out of town, in various cities far, far away. News outlets reported that they’re being granted a ticket to a record deal.

Chances of them going global were going to skyrocket. He’s too invested into his career. You’re not blaming him. He’s got a real kick for music, and deserves all the success.

It’s hurting your heart, though. And you can’t go on with this chase that led to nothing but temporary thrill and emptiness when not around him. It feels degrading.

An end needs to be put to this. How could you be an idiot, letting this drag on for as long as it has?

That’s why you’re here. Another shot gets downed by you, alcohol coursing through your veins, hopefully giving you strength to survive the night.

Everything then happens so fast: The lights dim, music from the DJ fades out and ceases, noise simmering down to where only hushed voices were heard.

Once the instruments of the anticipated group were audible, the crowd bustled in shouts and cheers that only grew thunderous when the spotlight shined on the three boys of Crimson Longing.

From that point on you sorta blacked out. You weren’t near the front, but your view of the band was still decent.

The hyped-screams drowned out in your head from how the band swooped your attention. Yes, their songs and skill were engrossing, but that damn Kim Sunwoo took your breath away.

He managed to pull you into a trance. His airy, cool-toned, raspy voice alone was enough to trigger your senses, your brain flashing memories of past-conversations and sexual encounters.

That gorgeous human being knew all of your sweet spots— where you liked to be kissed, and used just the right amount of pressure with his hands, lips, and hips. It was only natural for you to keep coming back for more when he had a masters degree in fucking. How could you not get flashbacks?

He’s the male equivalent of a siren. He lured you in thanks to all of his smashing qualities. You were left hypnotized, steered into his direction, losing all good senses that tried to advise you that maybe fucking around with a rockstar wouldn’t be good for your heart.

Especially now as you know how it feels to have him inside of you, molding into you almost perfectly and providing you orgasmic sensations that were indescribable and unmatched. You got too comfortable. That dick of his has been good to you.

But it was never enough, it never was. Irritation and anger hits you when you think about the gaps and the silence he’s left you to fill. Was it really all worth it for one good night every once in a while?

You were drowning. He inevitably seduced you. Feelings on your part started becoming too much, Kim Sunwoo drowning any other thought you could possibly have.

All over one man.

“Shittttt, the crowd’s on fire tonight! You guys are getting us rock-hard.” Sunwoo’s words into the mic steals your attention. He tantalizingly grabs his crotch, smirking with a raise of a brow. Of course, the crowd only becomes louder.

That just pissed you off even more. How could you be so dumb to rage inside in jealously for him doing his job? He had an audience to please and rile up. The assets he possessed were an advantage to him. Who wouldn’t drop their panties or bark for some attention from a young, handsome rockstar?

Typically someone in his position wouldn’t be tied down to one person. But he had that claim on you. An imaginary string ties and pulls you to him, stuck on him unless you give yourself the strength to cut it off. It’ll only bother you if you let it.

This situationship is consuming you when it didn’t feel, nor was real apart from the physical aspect.

You had to cut him off.

———————————————————————————

Their set lasted a little over an hour. Crazy how you’d stick around just for Sunwoo. But at least their music actually was good, and you may have had one or two more drinks to pass time.

As already expected, one of Crimson Longing’s staff members found you and escorted you to the back. This became a routine whenever you’d attend their local shows. You’d walk down the familiar path to Sunwoo’s dressing room, stares of other locals eyeing you with jealousy and curiosity, whispering gossip regarding your relationship with the band.

Up to a certain degree, it did make you feel special. But was it really so gratifying to be basically used and feel degraded? As well as perceived as a slut or threat by the regulars? (They would never have the balls to say it to your face, though.)

The bustle of the club continued and music muffled the closer to his room you got. The effects of the alcohol were getting to you. There’s luckily no anxiety, but your body and mind feels numb and fuzzy, coordination growing weak.

Once you arrive to his room, the staff leaves you to it. You silently thank him and don’t even bother knocking, inviting yourself in with ease.

In that room lies Sunwoo reclined in a chair, glass of what you presume to be alcohol in one hand while a rag is dabbing the back of his neck in the other.

The intrusion prompts him to look up, smirking when he sees your form.

“There’s my baby. Come here.”

It’s irritating how the cadence of his voice, the pet-name, and viewing him in the flesh for the first time in awhile strikes lightning to your core. You were weak when it came to him.

Shutting the door, you’re left separated from the outside world with him. With a serious look, you approach him closer.

He smiles and lets out a small laugh once you’re directly in front of him. Shamelessly, his eyes rake over the length of your body. A black leather jacket kept your arms covered while your slip-on mini dress of the same color exposed your legs. That paired with the stunning makeup on your gorgeous face was a sight for sore eyes.

“Look at you, all dolled-up.” he nods, man spreading and bringing his glass towards his mouth, taking a generous sip.

Your expression remained dull while he looked so smug. He’s so annoying, but clearly not enough when your gaze lowers front and center at his crotch. The leather material of his pants caging your favorite toy looks too appealing. Your eyes don’t rest there for long, but Sunwoo of course saw where your pupils followed, making you feel pathetic and predictable.

It’s sweltering in here, you think to yourself. He still appears smug, and moves his now-empty glass and sweaty rag over to the table by his side. Like the needy-flirt he is, he rubs both hands over his thighs and pats them, gesturing for you to come and sit over him.

You really wanted to stand on business, but with the alcohol ingested, it’s lowering your inhibitions. You truly did miss his touch, and craved long for his physical affection.

That smirk of his was stupid and gave you the urge to slap it right off, but it was also infectious. It had you pursing your lips to withstand letting your lip corners curl.

Like the weakling you are, there you go inching towards him. You sat your behind and weight over one of his thighs, legs draping over his other. Like clockwork, your arms hooked around his neck to ensure security.

A hand of his moves to the small of your back, while the other rests over your thigh. He looks pleased, bouncing his leg a few times, pupils blown and thirsty for your attention. His dark eyes study your face like you’re a work of art, in awe to have gotten his hands on you.

That’s one thing about Sunwoo you do treasure. His ability to make it seem like you’re the only girl worthy of his time.

“Liked the show?” he murmurs. His low voice and full lips irresistible to you, making you choke back a whimper.

The tension’s unbearable to fight; your body already betrayed you. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly your lips finally end up on his.

The makeout is passionate. Sunwoo does no attempt to hide his heavy breaths just from kissing, and your fingers tangled through his damp hair, too caught up in the taste of one another after being distant.

The different liquors you each have consumed tonight are exchanged through the wet kisses. If you weren’t already intoxicated enough, you definitely were now. Your senses were being overly stirred right now. The alcohol’s left you dehydrated, but Sunwoo is reviving you again.

“Was thinking ‘bout you the whole time.” he breathes out in between the zealous lip-locking.

While multiple factors are causing your mind and body to stupefy, you do indeed process what he has said.

Hilarious.

So comical that you bitterly laugh, separating your lips from his.

Sunwoo merely hums and raises his brows in levity, assuming you laughed from how funny the alcohol’s got you feeling.

“Don’t play with my feelings, baby girl.” he teasingly whines.

Wow. How ironic!

It doesn’t click that that’s not the case until he gravitates towards your soft appendage for more, surprised when you dodge another round of kisses. Genuine confusion floods his features, and you’re avoiding eye contact now, frowning.

“What’s up?” he questions now that the mood’s changed.

Your throat feels parched, straining to vomit out all the feelings you have about this whole situationship out of you. You’ve pondered day and night for awhile now about all the things you’ve wanted to say to him face-to-face, to perhaps truly end it all. But right now, you can’t.

“You can talk to me.” he utters barely above a whisper.

You really don’t want to kill your buzz right now. He looks so sweet and actually attentive, but one sweet moment can not possibly make up for the hollowness in your heart and question marks in your mind when he’s not with you. There’s got to be more for you outside of a very passionate but quick fuck every once in awhile.

“You know… if you really missed me, you’d actually make an effort to see me outside of these four walls.” you broke your silence.

He frowns a little at that, taken aback by your confession.

“If you’re just using me for quick fucks, go ‘head and tell me now. I’m a big girl, I can handle it, superstar.” you spat out, cheeks growing hot from the harsh words, angered to have allowed a boy to get in your head this bad.

He stares at you dumbly, lips parted slightly like he’s processing what you’re saying— or trying to come up with some good excuse.

You realize you really shouldn’t have even came here or given him the time of day, so you attempt to get off him, but he just holds you tighter and pulls you back down into him.

“Let me go!” you snapped at him, but respectfully, Sunwoo wasn’t going to let you go that easily.

“Hey— hey…” he calls to you, your expression exasperated. Unable to escape his hold, you at least turn you peeved face away from his own. But of course, he reaches out to carefully cup your jaw, directing your gaze back on him.

“You’re not just a quick fuck, baby.” he breathes out.

“Look, I’m sorry that i’ve been distant and haven’t shown you proper respect and love. I’ve been so busy— but that’s no excuse. I know that.”

His eyes appear to carry sincerity, but you’re still full of annoyance, as this wasn’t going to be solved right away.

“I know we never clarified whatever the fuck this is, but I don’t think I can do this anymore. I don’t do casual. I shouldn’t have messed around with you in the first place.” your eyes grew glossy from the hot tears stinging to rain down. God, this was so embarrassing.

Sunwoo bites his lip, eyebrows slanting slightly in seeing you like this. “No— I want you. Don’t say that.” he pleads gravely.

“There’s a ton of other girls out there that are waiting to fuck you. Go shoot your shot with one of them.” you grumbled.

With that, you forcefully escape his arms, aggressively pushing off him and standing up. Unfortunately, you’re only able to get a few steps away before Sunwoo also gets up to speed in front of you.

Shock is filling your face initially when he drops his knees to the ground, now having to look down to meet his eyes. He’s dropped to this vulnerable position, demonstrating his desperation to keep you here with him. He wasn’t going to let you go so easily like that. He’s too hooked to let you walk out of his life.

“Sunwoo, get your ass up— don’t do that.” you scoffed with a frown. You didn’t want him to make this harder for yourself.

Though, seeing him get on the ground so abruptly, now looking up at you with big, glassy-looking eyes, pinched at your heart. Him in this position was a complete 180 from the confident and tough exterior he presented otherwise.

“I don’t and won’t touch anyone that isn’t you. You gotta believe me, baby girl.” he voices, feeling feeble in the moment but tone strong and laced with urgency.

There’s still doubt inside you even with his words, your throat tight and starting to gnaw on your lip to keep your sensitive ass under control.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been too caught up in my lifestyle to not do more for you. Fuck— I do care about you. Please don’t leave me— please…” his voice cracks, pleading for the life of him.

A hot tear or two manages to spill past your eye. The hurt tone in his voice and rawness of this scene is tugging at your heart, slowly cracking the icy coldness of the front you’re trying to uphold and have felt through the silence while apart.

His remorseful eyes continue to stare at you, visibly distressed and waiting for any sound from you. After a rousing performance, here he is unexpectedly on his knees, wishing that you wouldn’t walk away.

You’re not sure if he really gave a shit about you or was just this desperate for your pussy specifically, but the current sight of him like this might be enough to ultimately end the conversation of his behavior here.

You’re melting for this unforeseen vulnerability. Of course you’d not allow the radio silence and confusion you were left with to be forgotten, nor believe your feelings were not valid. But something about this side of him is making you think you should give him some grace.

Maybe you should reconsider being hasty about this. You were sorta drunk and although you weren’t sober, you’d like to think that you’re self aware and conscious of the decisions you make. You’re glad you just got some of those pent up feelings released, and now you need to do it via another outlet.

“I’m really sorry, I promise I’ll do better from—”

“I’m not going anywhere, but I will shove you if you don’t get up, boy.” you cut him off with a strict tone, leaving him wide-eyed at your words, not delaying in getting on his feet once he’s processed your threat.

He looks hopeful when he’s up, exchanging stares that carry uncertainty for what should happen next.

There is certitude that you each wanna fall into the established drill of allowing your bodies to talk through fiery sex. Especially while the liquor dispersed through your systems.

Neither of you dare say a word for a moment, until you can’t take it anymore and break that silence by stepping forward and extending an arm out to grab hold of the choker he wears, tugging at the material even if it’s too tight and yanking him towards your mouth.

He lets free a strangled gasp and whimper while he stumbles a bit as you guide him to you. You don’t waste more time further and push his plush lips against yours.

Breathlessly, he kisses you with no hesitance, devouring you with just as much urgency as you pucker with. Your hand that pulled at his leather choker snakes back and upwards into his nape, fingers mindlessly swirling and twisting his locks.

Teeth clash in between the frantic kissing, noses bumping together, breaths and hearts racing from the great need of sultry contact.

His hands dance all over your body, fumbling as he’s too caught up in chasing your lips and incapable of keeping them in one spot. They roam freely all over your silhouette and physical features, relishing every bit of you.

Actions are speaking loudly, exchanging lust for one another just through making out. Extra desperate after your confrontation and his newfound sensitive side that you’ve unlocked.

It’s almost as if you two are dehydrated. Not only from the liquor, but mostly from the absence of one another.

You bite, drink up, and swallow the taste of his mouth— tongues colliding, saliva exchanging, and teeth nibbling. At the speed and sloppy rate you’re moving, you two appear as a horny mess.

But you needed him. Caving to the pleasure and sweet, sweet attention Sunwoo could grace you with. Only he was capable of satisfying your needs and wants.

And he was just as addicted to you.

The kisses alone had you moaning, more so when his mouth began trailing away from your lips down to your neck. His lips cherishing and sucking one of your most-sensitive spots has prolonged, breathy sounds leap out of your mouth.

It’s body-shivering, those wet kisses turning your mind into static as he sucks intently until he’s left a mark that’d turn dark reddish-purple.

You didn’t even care, fingers tightening around his strands of hair and digging into his back, too consumed in the sensation, crumbling and aching for him to not let up.

That voice from earlier shouting doubts is too far away in the back of your mind. Now, all that enthralled you was those notorious moves of his, growing wet. You can’t refuse his luscious attention, softening and relaxing for him with open arms and drowning out any possible coherent thought you could have.

“There’s alot I need to make up for, but lemme do the easiest thing right now, hm?” he voices as he finishes leaving one of his marks, earning a whiny hum out of you.

So then you’re quickly pushed into a vanity, your backside facing fiery heat from his frontside. The neck kisses and fondling of your body doesn’t stop as he simultaneously with ease begins to remove all articles of clothing.

The sound of desperate breaths mingles with one another’s layers being pawed off and flung aside.

You meet one another’s eyes through the mirror once every piece of clothing has been discarded, skin on skin contact with him pressed up against your back, rock-hard cock glutted with excitement.

Both of his veiny hands settle over your breasts, balancing them and groping the flesh. You bite down gently on your lower lip, hairs on your skin raising and thighs squeezing together when his fingers roll your sensitive and undeniably tender nipples.

You softly moan, his movements natural yet stimulating, especially with how you have a clear view of the scene thanks to the mirror in front.

It has you shutting your eyes to bask in how he felt you up, but only for a split second before he suddenly tugs and pinches with a firm pressure, making you immediately open them, mewling and pouting at him through the reflection.

“Hey.” his warn comes out low but strong, sending a whirlwind-like sensation towards your core.

“Keep ‘em open for me. Wanna see those eyes when you take my cock.” he rasps, hands switching from your mounds to your hips, holding and rubbing along your sides like a trophy. He keeps his eyes on the prize that is your body, no intent to remove his sight on you, compelled that he gets to have you like this: Fully naked in all your glory, determined to fuck you like you deserve, and treasure you like he should.

“Put it in, woo. Please, baby.” you pleaded, your eyes and pussy full of ache, ravenous to be stuffed and banged by his cock.

Teasing and being a cheeky shit was one of his favorite hobbies, but he thinks he’ll have to move on quick with the foreplay, for he is also itching to fuck you.

His lips dip towards the side of your neck, licking your sensitive skin before pressing a generous kiss into the spot.

“Yes ma’am.” he affirms, simpering as he backs up just a bit to grab hold of his cock, running his fist along it to warm it up for you, evenly distributing viscous fluid that is already sitting pretty over his tip.

Normally you’d scoff followed by giving him a playful shove whenever he’d call you that, but he doesn’t allow any moment for that, slapping his dick up against your entrance.

That raises a squeal out of you, mouth gaping and body sizzling just from the outside contact of his manhood.

From that moment on, your body is on fire with lust. He drags his cock head over your folds, and then finally slides it past your slit.

“God!” you cried out from the anticipated-missed feeling. There is a mixture of the intensity from the slight pressure that came with the initial stretch and impact of your hole becoming jammed with his hard length.

“Not my name but close enough.” he titters, moving a hand to your lower tummy and patting it gently once he’s fully inside you.

Once again, you’d like to smack him for his response, but the beginning movement of his cock in-and-out past your walls knocks the wind out of you.

Your mind is blurred, not a single proper thought able to be formed when you’re becoming consumed in the feeling of your pussy so full and gorged.

Your walls greedily sucked him in, pleased with his entrance into you. Even though it’s embarrassing to admit, you were too attached to him.

Nothing beats having Sunwoo’s cock drilling you to climax, his broad frame up against you, his heavy grunts and breaths that emphasized how worked up he gets over having sex with you.

“Who’s that pretty girl, huh?” he voices breathily, nodding at the mirror, gesturing at the reflection of your figure. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, lips parted and growing close to drooling like a fool from how good he’s hitting it.

You don’t even think he was looking for an answer from you, but you should know better by now.

Suddenly he strokes into you with extra emphasis, lifting his hand from your abdomen to get a grip on your chin, making you squeal.

“Answer me, hm?” he grunts, hand still holding your face firmly. Your eyes are hazy, growing moist from how beyond turned on you are.

You look at yourself in the mirror with vulgarity, entranced especially when he slides his thumb over your lower lip, playing with the appendage by tweaking and strumming it, even going as far as to trace the outline of your bottom teeth.

“Hm?” he sounds out again, growing impatient.

“Me! it’s fucking m—me!” you moaned, eyes practically rolling back. Sunwoo was too fucking good at making sex incredible, feeling so sexy in your body and in this position.

“My good girl.” he praises lowly, letting go of your face and attaching both of his hands to your hips,

You’re growing weak, knees buckling as he knocks the sense out of you from behind. Losing your breath as he’s relentless with his pace.

You let yourself rest your elbows on the vanity for support, now bent over.

There’s no complaint from him. The change gives him a crystal clear view of your entire backside.

He grips your hips extra mean; the view of your body at this angle and the clapping of your cheeks charges the animal inside of him.

“Mine.” he growls, obsessed with the way your hot walls cling onto him during his out strokes, and the whiny, puffing noises that never cease.

There had to be something to slow down and interrupt your buzz though, as the startling noise of a phone going off joins your lewd sounds.

After a few seconds, it registers to you both that it’s coming from Sunwoo’s phone, but he refuses to acknowledge it, too immersed in chasing one another’s high.

However, you cannot ignore the pesky repetition of his ringtone that is killing the vibe and makes you anxious as it’s on-going.

“Sunwoo, just answer it. It may be important.” you sigh out with distress.

His thrusts let up and then cease, copying your sigh and then pulling his aching cock out of you.

“Fuck.” he groans, all frustrated as he jogs lightly to go pick up his disruptive device that’s sitting on a glass table— he really needs to keep it on silent.

Meanwhile, you pull yourself back up, puffing out some air, looking at your state, almost snapping out of your carnal mood.

Almost.

“What?” he bites out, clearly irritated.

You figure out quickly that it’s one of his band mates.

He moves back over to the vanity with phone up to ear, making you follow his movements through the mirror.

“I’m kinda busy, y’know?” he voices to the other end, startling you (even though you saw him coming) when he presses his front against your back.

From that point, you can’t even care or pick up on whatever the conversation may be about. Not with how Sunwoo’s still-hard cock digs against your lower back, not able to behave while on call and sliding his free hand around your front.

You attempt to give him a warning look through the mirror, but he just has a wolfish grin plastered, hand lowering until it reached your abandoned cunt.

He finds your clit while speaking to whomever. Your body quivers as he teases it by tapping it at first, then begins to use two fingers to rub at your delicate bud— all while he’s chatting it up over voice call.

If you thought this was naughty as is, Sunwoo decides to apply more pressure to his ministrations, making you lean back into one of his shoulders, growing feeble from his persistent playing while simultaneously trying to keep quiet in hopes that his band mate on the other end doesn’t hear a single smutty peep.

It only gets (yummier) worse for you when he pushes those fingers past your wet folds, holding your breath and clutching the edge of the vanity table to suppress the gasp that would follow under normal circumstances.

You wanted to curse him out so bad for being indecent and audacious enough to play with your pussy while being on the phone, incapable of keeping his hands to himself.

But your body always responded cordially to him. Your pussy dripped and squeezed for him. Your heart thumped to where you could practically hear it, and you fell into a state of bliss, palpitating and growing faint as he treated your body lavishly, making you feel wanted and most importantly: gratification.

His fingers dug into you, diligently swirling them and hitting the walls of your moist canal.

It’s so sick how he’s finger-fucking you now while on the phone, keeping conversation while he without issue entertains you both with diving his fingers into your sacred spot.

You’re growing flushed as he chuckles lightly at something that was said on the other line, winking at you through the reflection when you look at him with creased brows and a silent, wide mouth.

“Nah, man, don’t wait up on me. I already got plans; I’m bringing my girl to my place tonight.”

Those words come down on you and fill you with wonder and immense euphoria. Like a dog when they hear the rustle from a chip bag. Like a kid entering a candy store.

You tried to hide the kick you get out of hearing that he’s going to bring you to his place for the first time ever by biting down on your lip to prevent a dreamy smile or eager whimper.

You couldn’t control your body, though. Once those words were processed, your pussy throbbed and clenched his digits excitedly.

He continued sliding them in and out of you, a curse word slipping past his lips as your hot cunt swallows his fingers. Fuck, you responded so well to him.

He’s leading you closer and closer to your core snapping that it doesn’t even click to you when he ends the call until the loud thud of his phone hitting somewhere random in the room gets you to jolt.

“So, that made my baby happy? Yeah?” he teases, referring to the reaction you gave his fingers.

He smirks as he continues to drive his fingers into you, curling them with a slight but noticeable increase in speed, adding the zapping sensation of thumbing at your clit to fuck with you further.

You respond with breathy mewls, letting your noises free of constraint now that he’s got all of his attention back on you, no one else listening anymore.

The squelching of his digits swimming in and out your wetness and the way he’s tickling and brushing those sensitive spots makes it hard for you to keep your eyes open, breaths uneven as you’re unable to deal with the heaviness inside your core, relief approaching.

You know for a fact Sunwoo knows when you’re ready to cum, so it pisses you off when he decides to pull out and cease his ministrations, walls going from clenching around his fingers to nothing, already missing the feeling.

“Hmphhh! I was getting close!” you whined with your head thrown back, voice trembling, almost to the brink of tears. Your poor body and mind couldn’t take this. How could he be so annoying?

You feel like this is a game to him. He got off on seeing how worked up and fussy you’d get when he deprived or teased you until you were begging or scolding him. It showed him that you really did enjoy his touches and presence.

He tsks at you, calming you down by inserting those lathered fingers of his into your mouth, making you hum at the sudden invasion.

“I know, I know.” he coos, your eyes shining with hunger and want. You taste yourself on his fingers, purring at the act, but still aching as your cunt rages in jealousy from being abandoned.

Thankfully, he always delivers and fulfills your desires in the end. In the blink of an eye, his fingers are pulled from your mouth and he grabs his cock, shoving it back inside your warm, swollen pussy.

“Sunwoo!” you cried out as he squeezes his thick length past your folds once again, making you bend over like you were earlier.

“Yeah, baby? I’m right here.” he voices, leaning down and over your back, pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder before raising back up and attaching his hands to either side of your hips.

And then resumed the physical exertion of slamming his cock into you, sliding in out of your juicy hole like there’s no tomorrow.

Moan after moan was drove out your mouth from his steady rhythm. His stroking is utterly heavenly as he hits your spongy spot over and over again, some thrusts done with extra strength than the last.

He grasps at your hips and pulls himself into you repeatedly, his own breaths rough and heavy, ascending off the hotspot that encloses his cock, both of you wet with fluids and pre cum, too thrilled out.

The penetration of his dick has your hole crammed with fullness of meaty length, all from the guy who makes you go nuts, but ultimately has your senses swooning and letting him grant you pleasure that’s intoxicating.

“You’ll cum for me, right?” Sunwoo growls, still fucking you with passion.

Your muscles spasm, everything beginning to tighten up. It’s like your nerves are on fire, and you feel this heaviness that needs to unleash.

His cock ridges slide back and forth, poking and hitting your pussy repeatedly until he makes you break, tension growing, and clenching as the peak was so close that you could practically taste it on your tongue.

“Cum, let go for me.” he rasps.

And with that, you do. Your core snaps and you melt into relief, twitching as your release pops and coats his cock, moaning breathlessly throughout the come down.

Sunwoo still pushes through his orgasm despite the way you grip his cock so fucking tight. Your orgasm and reactions has him grunting curse words, being the cherry on top to lead him to his own orgasm as well.

Your body is basically limp as he still pounds into you from behind, muscles spasming involuntarily.

His painfully-hard cock is so bloated, bullying your pussy how you both like, but you don’t know how much more your body can handle, way-past sensitive since you already came.

“Sun—Sunwoo! I can’t…” you weakly whimpered.

You know he needed to cum, and wanted him to. But god, was your pussy beat. Your eyes were tearing up from him finishing up his business.

“Yes you can, baby. Mhm— almost there.” he voices brokenly, his hips stuttering, jerking into your dripping cunt.

A couple more thrusts and he’s spurting out his cum, pulsating and growling as his sack empties out, perspiration all over his body.

He carefully drapes his body over yours on the vanity desk, loud heart beats and burnt out bodies clashing together.

His weight on top of you lowkey crushes you, but you can’t seem to care enough.

After a minute or so of just breathing, he brushes his lips over the shell of your ear, kissing your lobe before whispering lowly into it.

“I meant what I said on the phone by the way.”

Your heart that was on track to revert back to normal beats, picks up pace again at the mention of that, breaths shaky.

“Come home with me, baby girl.”

God, look at how the night’s ending; not what you had originally planned.

You thought it was finally time to leave him. Attempt at forgetting and moving on. But he found his way inside you again, and you truly believe he’d treat you better from now on, knowing what’s on the line and knowing what he has the possibility of losing.

So… you think you will go home with him.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 11 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

୨୧┇Telemachus x fem!reader

୨୧┇note: Mama Eurymachus behind YOU 💜

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Telemachus ran his hands through his hair. Y/N’s lips on his. Her breath mixed with his own. His body pressed up against hers.

Oh gods…

It was all the prince could think about. He went over to the window, staring out at Ithaca. The sky accumulating into a mix of orange and red and the sun set over the roaring sea. Telemachus wishes a little sightseeing would fix his anxiety. He was about to continue his pacing when he heard a voice ring out from behind him.

“Telemachus.” It wasn’t so much a question but a statement. Telemachus turned around to see Athena standing in the middle of the room, her same tall stance visible.

“Athena.” He sighed in relief. The boy had believed that the goddess was done with him forever after their disagreement.

Athena’s face furrowed as she glanced at him, “You’ve done something little wolf.” Telemachus could feel his cheeks go crimson as his mind raked with an answer to reply with.

“I-I haven’t done anything..” He stammered, his fingers fidgeting with the bottom of his tunic.

The goddess felt like rolling her eyes at his attempt of disguising his guilty tone, “You’re lying.”

The prince let out a frustrated sigh, “Yes..I admit. I’m lying.”

“Now the only question is what are you keeping from me?” The goddess crossed her arms, and looked down at the boy. Telemachus debated what Athena would do with him when he came out with the truth. Possibly throw him out the window. Find a way to make his life miserable for the rest of his existence.

“I took your advice..I fought back.” Telemachus began his pacing once again as he talked.

The goddess seemed proud, “Is that so?”

He sighed, “Well..Y/n had been avoiding me and staying close to her brother ever since the other night. I was pissed off…so when she got up from the dining hall…I followed her.” Athena nodded as he talked, waiting for him to continue.

“...Then I cornered her…and pushed her against the wall.” Telemachus slowly stated.

“And?” Athena had an expecting tone.

“We..um..argued, “Telemachus suddenly said in a fast tone,

“andthenimayhavesortofkissedher.”

“I’m sorry?” Athena’s eyes widened.

“I’m not repeating that.” Telemachus muttered, almost ashamed.

“I told you to fight back, not with your lips.” Athena groaned, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her fingers.

“In my defense you got extremely unspecific when you said to push her against the wall.” Telemachus’s voice cracked as he tried to defend himself.

Athena scoffed, “I thought it was obvious that you should pull a dagger or hit her, but apparently not.”

The boy ran his hands through his hair, “What do I do.”

He sat down on his bed once again, putting his head in his hands, “I know you said you’re not any Aphrodite..but you have to help me.”

Athena once again had flashbacks of Odysseus, helplessly pining over Penelope, and begging for her help. And once again, she couldn’t refuse helping. Especially someone who was Odysses’s son.

“You may not blame me if my advice does not work. I also refuse to be your Eros.” The goddess pointed her finger at Telemachus.

“Really?” The prince’s eyes lit up, a new hopefulness igniting his spirit.

“I suppose..” She sighed, no hint of excitement in her voice, “Go with your instincts.”

He looked at her expectantly, “And?”

Athena shrugs, “That’s it.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Y/n slipped through the dimly lit corridors of the palace, her jaw clenched so tightly it ached. She hated herself for agreeing to Eurymachus’s demands, but she hated him even more for putting her in this position.

The servant quarters were quiet at this hour, the faint sound of snores drifting from behind closed doors. Y/N moved silently, her steps careful as she approached the small room where Eurymachus had said the necklace would be.

The servant, a young woman named Thalia, known for her kind smile and amazing cooking, was fast asleep, her breathing even and soft. Y/n hesitated at the door, her hand hovering over the curtain that separated the room from the hallway. What am I doing? she thought bitterly. This is beneath me. But Eurymachus’s smug face flashed in her mind, and she forced herself to push forward. Slipping into the room, she quickly spotted the necklace hanging on a nail by the bed. It was simple but elegant, its gold chain glinting faintly in the moonlight streaming through the small window.

Y/n moved swiftly, lifting the necklace from its hook and tucking it into the pouch at her waist. She turned to leave, but her foot caught on a loose board, causing it to creak loudly. Thalia stirred, her eyes fluttering open. “Who’s there?” she murmured sleepily, sitting up in bed.

Y/n froze, her heart pounding in her chest.

But Thalia’s gaze sharpened as she caught sight of Y/n. “Lady Y/N? What are you—” Her eyes flicked to the empty hook where her necklace had been, and her expression turned to one of alarm. “Wait! That’s mine! What are you doing with it?” Y/n didn’t answer. She bolted from the room, ignoring Thalia’s shouts as she darted back down the hallway. Her chest heaved with each breath, her guilt clawing at her insides.

By the time she reached the agreed meeting place—a secluded alcove near the main hall—Eurymachus was already waiting, leaning casually against the wall with his ever “pleasant” smirk.

“You’re late,” he said, his tone mocking.

“Here,” she snapped, pulling the necklace from her pouch and tossing it at him. He caught it easily, inspecting it with an approving nod.

“Perfect,” he said, slipping the necklace into his own pocket. “Thalia’s been a little… resistant to my charms. This should give her the incentive she needs.”

Y/n’s stomach churned. “You’re disgusting.”

Eurymachus shrugged. “Call it what you want. It’s effective. At least I’ll get some good pu—“

Pandora turned on her heel, her fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms. She didn’t look back as she stormed away, but Eurymachus’s smug laughter followed her down the corridor, a reminder of how low she had been forced to stoop.

——

Y/N sat in the shadow of a column, watching the main hall with narrowed eyes. Eurymachus had been annoyingly vague about this errand, but she knew what she was looking for, a suitor sneaking away with food under the cover of night. She hated herself for even considering helping Eurymachus, but if it kept him quiet, she had no choice.

The palace was quiet now, save for the faint sounds of distant laughter from the drunken suitors who hadn’t yet stumbled off to bed. Y/n eyes darted toward the dining table, still laden with leftover food from the evening feast. A plate of roasted meat sat untouched, along with a basket of bread and a jar of honey.

She crouched lower as footsteps echoed down the hall. A figure emerged from the shadows: Amphinomus, one of the less obnoxious suitors usually. He paused near the table, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. Y/n’s breath hitched as she saw him quickly gather a loaf of bread and a slab of meat, wrapping them in a cloth before tucking them under his arm.

Gotcha, she thought, rising silently and following him at a safe distance.

Amphinomus moved with surprising speed for someone who’d spent the evening drinking. He slipped through a side door that led to the servants’ quarters, his steps quiet and deliberate. Pandora stayed close, keeping to the shadows as she trailed him. He finally stopped near the kitchens, where two servants were waiting, a young man and woman with thin, worried faces. Amphinomus handed them the bundle of food, his voice low but urgent.

“Take this,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “Make it last, all right? If anyone asks, you didn’t see me.” The servants murmured their thanks, their gratitude evident in their expressions. Y/n’s chest tightened as she watched. She hadn’t expected this.

As Amphinomus turned to leave, she stepped out of the shadows. “Well, well,” she said, crossing her arms. “Isn’t this interesting?” Amphinomus froze, his face pale as he turned to face her. “Y/N,” he said cautiously. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied, tilting her head. “Stealing food for the servants? That’s not very suitor like of you.” His jaw tightened. “They need it more than we do.”

“Maybe,” Y/n said, her tone cool. “But if the others find out, it won’t end well for you.”

“Are you going to tell them?” Amphinomus asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

She hesitated. For a moment, she considered lying, covering for him, but Eurymachus’s threat loomed in her mind. She had no choice. “Not me,” she said finally, her voice quiet. “But you’d better hope no one else does.”

Amphinomus studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable, before brushing past her and disappearing into the shadows. Y/N stood there for a long time, guilt gnawing at her as she thought about what she had just witnessed. When she finally returned to Eurymachus to report what she’d seen, she kept her tone curt and her answers short. Eurymachus, of course, was delighted.

“Well, well,” he said with a sly grin. “Amphinomus, huh? Who would’ve guessed? Well, actually everyone could’ve guessed. I’m not really shocked, he has this weird thing with greeting the world with open arms or whatever that bullshit means. But anyways, I’ll have fun with that little sliver of information.”

Y/n didn’t respond. She turned and walked away, her stomach churning as she realized just how far she’d fallen, and how much worse things might get.

——

Y/N groaned as she leaned against the stone wall of the courtyard, the weight of Eurymachus’s errand making her stomach churn. She’d avoided Telemachus for days after the kiss, unsure of what to say or even how to act. Now she had to approach him with a favor? For Eurymachus of all people? It was humiliating.

But she didn’t have a choice. Eurymachus’s smug grin and veiled threats lingered in her mind, and she knew he’d make good on them if she didn’t comply. Taking a deep breath, Y/N pushed herself off the wall and made her way toward the palace library, where she knew Telemachus would be. He’d taken to hiding there lately, away from the chaos of the suitors.

When she entered the library, she spotted him immediately. He was seated at a table near the window, a scroll spread out before him. The light from the window cast a soft glow on his face, and for a moment, she hesitated. Why does he have to look so…earnest? she thought irritably.

Clearing her throat, she approached the table. “Telemachus,” she said, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her chest. He looked up, his eyes widening slightly before narrowing in suspicion. “Y/N,” he said flatly, setting down the quill in his hand. “What do you want?”

She winced inwardly at his tone but pressed on. “I need a favor,” she said, leaning against the table with feigned nonchalance. Telemachus raised an eyebrow. “From me? That’s bold, considering…” His voice trailed off, and his cheeks flushed as he avoided her gaze. She felt her own cheeks heat, but she refused to acknowledge it. “Look, it’s not for me,” she said quickly. “It’s for Eurymachus.”

Telemachus blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Eurymachus?” he repeated, incredulous. “Why on earth would I do anything for him?” She shifted uncomfortably. “He… he wants you to put in a good word for him with your mother,” she said, each word feeling like it physically hurt to say.

Telemachus stared at her as if she’d just sprouted a second head. “You’re joking,” he said finally.

“I wish I were,” Y/n muttered.

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he regarded her with disbelief. “Why would I ever help Eurymachus? He’s insufferable.”

“Believe me, I know,” Y/N said, her tone exasperated. “But he’s been… persistent. And I’d really appreciate it if you just—”

“No,” Telemachus interrupted, his voice firm. “Absolutely not.” Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Telemachus, please. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”

He gave her a long, searching look, his expression softening slightly. “Why are you even doing this? What does he have on you?” Her heart skipped a beat at the question, but she quickly masked her panic with a scowl. “That’s none of your business,” she snapped.

Telemachus frowned but didn’t press further. “I don’t like this, Y/n,” he said quietly. “You shouldn’t have to do Eurymachus’s dirty work. If he’s forcing you—”

“He’s not forcing me,” she said quickly, cutting him off. “I can handle myself.” Telemachus’s eyes narrowed, but he sighed and shook his head. “Fine. I’ll think about it. But only because you’re asking.”

Y/n blinked, surprised by his sudden acquiescence. “You will?”

“I said I’ll think about it,” he clarified, standing and gathering his scrolls. “Don’t expect a miracle.” Y/n watched him leave, her emotions a confusing mix of relief, gratitude, and something else she didn’t want to name.

As the door closed behind him, she let out a long breath, slumping into the chair he’d vacated. This wasn’t how she’d envisioned her day going, but at least she’d made some progress.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her tangled web of alliances and obligations was only growing more complicated, and that Eurymachus wouldn’t stop until he’d completely squeezed her.

——

Y/N found Antinous lounging in the great hall, reclining on a cushioned bench with a goblet of wine in his hand. He looked perfectly at ease, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. But she knew her brother well enough to sense the sharpness lurking beneath his casual demeanor. This errand was going to be trickier than the others, and it was very last second. “Heyyy Y/n!! Can you go and convince your brother to lend me money? Please! Last minute request?” Eurymachus’s irritating voice rang in her head.

She approached cautiously, clearing her throat to get his attention. “Brother,” she began, forcing a light tone. Antinous glanced up, his lips curling into a smirk. “N/N. To what do I owe this rare display of sisterly affection?” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she said, sitting down beside him. “I…I need a favor.”

Antinous raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “A favor? From me? This must be serious.”

“It’s not for me,” she said quickly, twisting her fingers together. “It’s for Eurymachus.”

At the mention of Eurymachus, Antinous’s smirk disappeared. He straightened, setting his goblet aside and narrowing his eyes at her. “Eurymachus?” he repeated slowly. “Why in Hades would you be doing him any favors?” Y/n hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “He—he just needs to borrow some money. One last time. That’s all.”

Antinous stared at her, his expression darkening with suspicion. “Borrow money?” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “And why would he come to you to ask me for that?”

“He said you’d be more likely to agree if it came from me,” she lied, trying to sound convincing. Antinous leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “Since when are you and Eurymachus so chummy? Last I checked, you couldn’t stand the man.” Y/n’s heart began to race. “We’re not… chummy,” she said, her voice faltering slightly. “I’m just…helping out. That’s all.”

Antinous’s eyes narrowed further, and he let out a low, humorless laugh. “Helping out? You’ve got to be shitting me.” he echoed. “Do you think I’m an idiot, ‘N/N? What’s really going on between you two?”

“Nothing!” She said quickly, her face flushing. Antinous stood abruptly, towering over her with a look of barely restrained fury. “Don’t lie to me,” he growled. “If Eurymachus is trying to worm his way into your good graces, or worse into your bed—”

“Antinous!” She snapped, standing as well and glaring up at him. “It’s not like that!” But her denial only seemed to fuel his anger. He began pacing, running a hand through his hair as he muttered under his breath. “That little snake,” he snarled. “I’ll kill him if he thinks he can take advantage of you—”

“He’s not taking advantage of me!” She interrupted, stepping in front of him to block his path. “It’s just money, Antinous. That’s it.” Antinous stopped pacing, glaring down at her with clenched fists. “If that’s true,” he said slowly, “then why do you look so guilty?”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss for words. She couldn’t tell him the truth, not about Eurymachus’s threats, and certainly not about the kiss with Telemachus.

Antinous shook his head, his jaw tightening. “I don’t like this, Y/n,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re hiding something. And if I find out that Eurymachus has crossed a line, I swear to the gods—”

“He hasn’t,” she said firmly, cutting him off. “Please, Antinous. Just do this one thing for me.”For a moment, Antinous simply stared at her, his expression unreadable. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh and turned away, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But if I find out you’re lying to me, I’ll grab eurymachus and throw him so far he’ll be in Mount Olympus.” Y/N nodded, relief washing over her despite the knot of guilt tightening in her chest. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

Antinous didn’t respond, his back still turned to her. As she left the hall, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d just set something in motion, something she might not be able to control.

started a tag list!

@procrastination20

[kyunniebuns]

˗ˏˋ Entry : 055 - Big Brother! Sylus x Little Sister! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝕊𝕪𝕝𝕦𝕤 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

‼️[ tw: contains some spoilers for his myth except i dont fully understand but all ik is waw dragon man ayeeee. Child abuse mentioned as well as human trafficking. Murder and body horror. pure fluff ending btw....]‼️

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Hush Little Bird, Brother is Here to Keep You Safe ] ¡! ❞

Sylus had finally awaken from a long and tiring slumber that felt like he would be asleep for an eternity. But somehow he had awaken... In a body of a child.

His tall and proud body reduced to a bunch of stick and bones. He's wearing an oversized white shirt. He takes a deep sigh and decides to look at his reflection on a puddle.

Surely enough, he still has the bloody crimson eyes and the same silver hair except his masculine body is that of an 12-year old's.

Great.

Just great.

He died a miserable death in the arms of his beloved and yet here he is in the body of a child.

How the hell is he supposed to survive in this case?

"...."

Sylus takes a deep sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose.

He needs to figure out what the hell to do before setting off to look for his dearest.

He'll figure it out.

He has to.

꒰ .... ꒱

Sylus managed to figure out how the world works through some snooping and watching other mortals go about their days. He figures out that the 'city' he resides in is known as the n109 zone. It's an underground city similar to the slums of his time full of crime and well... Danger.

Not that he's afraid of course.

Sylus had already managed to make a living through street fights and occasionally stealing from oblivious passerbys.

What else can he do for now anyway?

It's demeaning in his honor as a proud dragon who once guarded a cave of luxuries but he needs to live.

This city he's in leaves everyone struggling in it's murky alleys.

It was either he succumbs to it's mercy or he overcomes everything as the topdog.

Survival is his priority if he wants to find that person again. He needs to make a name for himself and secure money in order to live in this brutal world where anything and everything is after his throat.

Cough... Cough....

He hears small sounds coming from behind a slanted signboard abandoned on the side of the alleyway. It sounded like it comes from a little girl.

Against his logic to leave it alone incase it might be a catfish pretending to be a helpless child— Sylus cautiously approaches the sign board and peers underneath it.

And there, he finds a little girl all ruffled up with her hair sticking everywhere, dressed in a makeshift adult shirt covered in grime and dirt.

Sensing his snooping, she lifts her tiny little face and looks up at him with her wide and tired beady eyes.

"...." Sylus stares back at her for a while before reaching behind him and handing her a pack of crackers.

After that, he just gets up and leaves her be.

What good is there to bring deadweight on you? She's a child, she'll be a hindrance to him. Giving her some food should sustain her enough to survive a few more days.

꒰ .... ꒱

Maybe he shouldn't have helped the little girl back then.

It's been three days since she started following him around whenever he's out to pickpocket or get into street fights to make some money.

She's a stubborn one.

But a clever little girl too.

She knows how to utilize her small body well to hide herself from the adults and everyone else. She never once got him into a tricky situation.

Oddly enough, Sylus had a feeling she knew more of the city than he did since she always manages to pop up anywhere he is and disappear just as fast whenever she senses danger.

At least he doesn't have to worry about her getting mixed up into the mess he gets himself into.

... Why is he worried about her anyway?

Ugh.

Anyway.

Sylus just finished one of his matches and secured a hefty sum as well as some food to sustain himself with.

Humans in this age are really fragile bastards. How come they're shitty at even the most basic fight? Their fighting forms are all over the place and it's pure bullshit they call themselves proud fighters!

They mind as well frolic in the arena waving their stupid delusions of being top fighters.

It irritates him to no end that they are no match eve a twelve-year-old's body but atleast he has it easier in building himself a name in this shitty place.

"You're here again, sweetie" Sylus said coolly as he lifted a cardboard box where the little girl was hiding herself in while watching him fight. "Aren't you scared someone might sit down on this wobbly box and crush your cute little body?"

"..." She starts giggling as she shows him a toothy smile with a missing front tooth.

'Does she think I'm playing with her?' Sylus thought as he watched her jump in her steps when she stood up and took his hand with her smaller ones.

The little girl started dragging him by his hand and leading him somewhere.

"You..." Sylus sighs and lets himself be dragged by her.

He followed her through winding alleyways and even went so far as entering a pipe just hanging in the backside of the tall buiding of n109 zone. When they came out of the dripping and dark pipe, they arrives at a makeshift base made in a withered and empty building.

It's lightsource is nothing more than a flickering light bulb and the contents of the little fort held up by sticks is a small blanket serving as a bed and a ruined bunny plush that is covered in dirt and dust.

"!!!!" She rummages on a box she had stashed under the blankets and pulls out a piece of bread then offers it to Sylus with twinkling eyes. "Brother... Eat!!!"

He was quite for a little while, scrunching his nose at her little action.

Regardless, he takes it and takes a small bite out of it before shoving the bread to her little mouth.

"Much appreciated, sweetheart" He said, glancing at her with less hostile crimson orbs. "But I'd rather you eat this."

Sylus made sure she finished the food before laying down on the makeshift bed, crossing his arms behind his bed.

He didn't have shelter yet, and since the little girl was so kind and naive enough to lead him to her hideout— What else should he do but rest? He has a lot to do tomorrow and he cant go around sleeping on the streets like he usually did.

So mind as well, right?

꒰ .... ꒱

In contrary to his previous thoughts, he ended up taking care of the little girl who always followed him around quietly or running behind him calling him "Brother, brother!" with that awfully cute voice of hers.

She's just like a stray kitten that he can't shake off no matter what he did.

Does he push her away? A few days back he would have, but now?

Yeah. No.

Absolutely Not.

It's another day of pickpocketing and petty street fights.

Sylus knew his shenanigans are going to catch up to him, but does it have to be so soon?

"Ack!" Sylus groans as he was hit with a pipe straight to his stomach.

He curls himself on the floor, panting heavily as he tries to school himself.

'These... Bastards!' He curses at them repeatedly in his head.

The fuckers followed him all the way to the back alley and ganged up on him in revenge for humiliating them in the previous fights.

"Fucking little shit" One of the men scowls, inhaling his smoke then stomping it out on the floor after blowing it out while his face is black and blue from being hit by Sylus earlier. "That son of a bitch put up a fight despite already being tired. What the fuck is he anyway? A fucking monster?"

"Shit, that must be it" Another sneers, kicking Sylus's stomach when he was already down. "What should we do with the bitch anyway?"

"Break his fucking legs, maybe even cut off his arms"

They laugh wickedly at that, making Sylus feel more pissed off at them.

"B-brother!" He hears a familiar voice crying out for him.

"What the hell?!" Another one of the group grabs the girl by yanking her back by her hair. "Why is there another rat here?"

"She's young?" The main perpetrator moves forward, ignoring Sylus's hand that grabbed his ankle to try and stop him.

"Don't touch her!" Sylus yells desperately, coughing out blood when his head was slammed down on the pavement.

"Must be his sister?" The one holding his head down laughs.

"Nah, I see no resemblance, this bitch looks like trash" The head man yanks the little girl's face. "She's around 5 or six? Maybe even younger? Either way, she'd fetch a good price at the black market"

"!!!!" She wriggles out of his hand and bites it, causing the fucker to pulls his hand out and hiss at the sharp pain.

"Fucking dipshit! She's just like that brother of hers!"

Sylus's eyes widened when he saw the same hand raise itself— About to hit her.

'Wake up.'

'Wake up.'

'WAKE UP'

'I'M TELLING YOU TO FUCKING WAKE UP!'

Boom.

An explosion suddenly resounded in the otherwise decrepit alleyway.

The hand that was holding Sylus down exploded, blood splatter painting the walls and falling onto his dirty silver hair.

He stands up, breathing heavily as crimson black wisps covered himfrom head to toe. Blood dribbles from his mouth to his chin, creating a wicked image with his bloodshot eyes.

The men attempt to scatter and call for help, but they only ended up having heads either severed or their limbs exploding.

He raises a hand towards the fucker that tried to hurt his dearest little sister.

"You..." He snarls, his red eyes overflowing with absolute malice. "I don't give a fuck even if you kidnap me to beat the living shit out of me, but involving my little sister who has nothing to do with anything crosses the line."

And with that, the man's head with suddenly explode into nothingness and his body would flop on the floor with a thump.

Blood puddles beneath him as the dead men spill out what they had in them from the injuries he gave them.

Sylus was in great pain.

Regardless, he stumbles towards the little girl he calls his family and tugs her to his chest.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Oh I'm so sorry" Sylus breathes heavily, stroking her head lovingly and placing kisses on her hair. "Brother is sorry, I should've awakened earlier. I'm so sorry."

"Brother... Wahhh!!..." Her loud sobs pierces at his heart, opting Sylus to hold her even tighther.

"Sshh..." He hushes her lovingly. "Brother is here, baby bird. It's alright"

He can't continue on like this.

He needs to be stronger and better.

Not just for the sake of the beloved he is looking for, but for this little girl who clings onto him so weakly.

This sweet little thing who still calls him her family despite the monster that he is.

He isn't really human even, but this girl loves him as a little sibling would for an older brother.

What can he do but to pamper her and shield her away from everything?

And so, he holds her against him, soothing the sweet little thing he calls his beloved sister.

꒰ .... ꒱

Through the years, Sylus rose in the ranks and soon enough was crowned as the Onychinus leader. He became the rightful leader that he should be with all the wealth and power he can flaunt as much as he pleased.

He raised his little sister along with the struggles he went through.

She didn't have to be involved in the bloody things he does, so it's alright that she herself is just hiding away in his home safe from the dangers of the n109 zone.

He is comforted as long as he knows she is safe and sound.

Sylus made sure no one touches her or even aware of her existence as his family.

So, he managed to live a peaceful life with his little sister who often banters with him for fun.

If there's anyone who can be outright shameless and call him insulting names— It's his baby sister who can do it without fearing for her head to be flying.

"Bastard Santa"

"Old man onychinus"

"Walmart edgelord santa claus"

"If only everyone knew that the leader they all fear is shit at singing"

... Yep, totally shameless.

But does he do anything? Nope.

He just teases her back and pinch her cheek as a form of revenge for each insult she throws out to him.

Right now, he was accompanying his little sister in linkon city for their weekly outings. She was quite sickly and fresh air is a need for someone like her with a weak body.

And what better way to do that than to take her out to Linkon since the air here is much more cleaner?

The colors in the city are also brighter, lifting anyone's mood despite the fact he absolutely detests the sunlight.

"So I managed to pull a new five star in the game yester...day." Her voice drifts off as she passes by a tall man.

She turns her little head to the stranger, glancing back at the tall back wearing a black coat over his broad shoulders. His hair is neat and the ebony black locks made him captivating, underneath those black locks are a pair sharp and charming hazel-green eyes behind rectangular glasses that gave him an air of sophistication and maturity.

His features are sharp and extremely handsome, not as intense as her brother's but still giving off this ethereal air to him. He's beautiful with the small bump on his nose, but not as prominent as Sylus's nose bump.

The stranger's gaze is cold but alluring, almost captivating even.

So captivating that she doesn't realize the fact that she is holding her breath.

Sensing her gaze, the man politely nods at her— Causing her to be a bit flustered and nod back before turning back to Sylus.

"Something catch your eye, sweetheart?" Sylus cocks an eyebrow up as his sister suddenly clung onto his arm.

"No, no!" She shakes her head, bashfully hiding her expression with her hair.

"... Is it a handsome man?" He teases, nudging her gently causing a pout on her lips to form. "What? You always tease your brother when it comes to his girlfriend, why can't I have a bit of fun when my baby sister finds someone attractive?"

"...I'm telling Rei-unnie about this!" She spites at Sylus who always chuckles, amused at her little tantrum and then ruffles her hair up with his free hand up.

"Don't grow up too fast, baby sister. Brother isn't willing to walk you down the aisle and hand you off to someone else" Sylus said affectionately, earning him a soft punch from her.

"Oh don't be so dramatic! If you're so upset about the idea then go and propose to Rei-unnie!"

"Help me pick up a ring then?"

"Buy me plushies after~"

꒰ 🪼 A/N: //Gasp!!!. Kyunnie posted twice for a day???!!! Omgg!!!!! Hahah jk x3!!! I was hit with inspiration because I've been daydreaming about being Sylus's baby sister for quite a while now!!!~~~ I'm always rambling to my mootie about this idea because I like the idea of being Sysy's baby sis who roasts him everyday heheh!!! I even sneaked in Zaynie//giggles. My hubbyyy~~~~ Should I make a fic where the other three lads men date sysy's lil sis 🤔🤔🤔. Maybe? Heheh٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡. Soon, one day>:3!!! ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[bleedingichorhearts]

“𝐈’𝐦 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬…” {2/2}

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: I believe the Big Blue has the worst abandonment issues. He was a single, loyal Primarch there for a second wasn’t he? Also, some of these Primarchs were kind of hard to appease.

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: The “Primarchs” reacting to you saying “I’m too old for this.” Simple as that.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k.

TW // Slight Angst.

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| • {Part 1}

Angron; “The Red Angel:”

Angry boi, angry boi… is not angry at you for saying such. How can he be? Life can be like a slave to one’s soul. He understands you in a way, not of your words, but the possible meaning behind it. He might… ponder with you on it, on your simple words. His nails ticking at him, but it’s nothing compared to the thought of your impending fall. Perhaps he shall hold you closer? No… no.

Roboute Guilliman; “The Avenging Son:”

Pauses in his work to look up at you. Those tried, pretty blue eyes of his roaming of your figure in sudden deep thought. A thought he had never really considered much since— He hums, finally standing up from his work and coming over to sweep you off your feet and nuzzle into you; inhaling your scent. He doesn’t wish to be alone once more…

Mortarion; “Death Lord:”

Surprisingly scared of your words. Something akin to his 9th brother. He doesn’t wish to hear you say those words again. He gets goosebumps just thinking about it, and might have a secret depressive episode only you can cure. Tell him how much you are doing; how well you are doing, not the opposite, please? He doesn’t wish to loose so much…

Magnus The Red; “Crimson King:”

Would also hear your words through warp, your soul, and it’s only then does he truly realize your mortality. He knows you’re mortal, yes, but he just… he didn’t think it would be so soon to realize the extent. Don’t be too surprised if you see him trying to commune with the warp more than necessary to rid you of your mortal shell…

Horus Lupercal; “The Lupercal:”

This man. This man knows what to do, and do you know what he does? Pampers the shit out of you: would make you stay in bed, massage you, anything to make sure you won’t say those words again. Though, the thought haunts him, and may drive him a bit… “passionate.”

Lorgar Aurelian; “The Urizen:”

Would stare at you like you had two heads. You? Old? Nonsense! You speak of nonsense! He worships you nearly everyday: 24/7 how could you claim yourself “old?” Would he have to show you what beauty you hold? What creation and power you wield? Well… he wouldn’t mind showing you again and again until you’re the brightest, glowing star in the his galaxy.

Vulkan; “Lord of Drakes:”

Another that says “You? Old? Nonsense!” This giant of a drake stuffy will swiftly pick you up in his arms (maybe do a twirl) before giving you a gentle kiss. Letting you sit on his arms as he will carry you around within his arms the rest of the day. No, you are not leaving him, no matter how hard you whine. He doesn’t like the thought of something he cherishes very, very dearly leaving him so soon…

Corvus Corax; “The Raven Lord:”

Yet another that unfortunately stares, and is… unsure of your words. There is an ache in his chest, a certain well known pain… He isn’t oblivious of your mortality, but he’s not sure if he should acknowledge it either. You might find some of his little crows surrounding you more often, and that’s when he’ll acknowledge it, and perhaps his sons will too. Crows take care of each other after all.

Alpharius & Omegon; “The Last Primarch:”

Hits them harder than you think. They have… shared you within the legion. You cuddled them, no matter who it was. You entertained them, no matter what they did. They didn’t think too much on your mortality, but now they definitely are. Perhaps they can find something in their blackmail archives to ensure your life? They don’t like to loose many… like Omegon.