#damn this became longer than expected

[ifindus]

Do you think Norway could’ve studied any subjects in an uni at some point? Considering how they are literally immortal, I just feel like he would probably do something like that.

Oh wow, I do have a lot to say about this. First some backstory:

While Denmark established its first university in Copenhagen in 1479, Norway was not allowed his own. This was only worsened during the 1600s, when it was decided that to work in any posistion of power in the state of Denmark-Norway, you needed a university degree. This put Norwegians at a great disadvantage and essentially only made influencal posistions available for Danes. Norway was fighting for the right to his own university from 1661 and until his liberation. Still, during the 1770s, Norwegian students at the University of Copenhagen formed their own "society", a social club where they would meet, drink, exchange academic talk, and reject Danish culture while emphasising the Norwegian one - at most they had 100 memebers. This was the beginning of the national romanticism that would sweep through Norway during the 1800s.

Then, in 1811, a Norwegian society was fed up with not being allowed a university by the Danish King, so they started a campaign where people could donate to the cause - because the reason for no university sited by the Kings was often "no money". This was a huge success, raising more than 150 million Euros in today's money, only sponsored by the Norwegian people. Employers by the Danish King in Norway were instructed to work against this funding campaign, the reason being the King was afraid a Norwegian university would be a risk for the union between the two countries. Eventually he had to give in to not risk even more uproar amongst the people.

Norway got its next university in 1910, then NTH (now NTNU) in Trondheim and this was a huge win for the region, who until then had felt estranged from the decisions in Oslo and treated as lesser. Today Trondheim and NTNU is regarded as the student city in Norway, focusing mostly on techology and sciences.

So, with that in mind, here is my headcanon as to what Norway would have studied at which point in history:

Københavns Universitet, 1770s: Literature

Universitetet i Oslo, 1810s: Law

NTH/NTNU, 1910s, Electrotechnology

NTH/NTNU, 1970s: Economy

I don't neccesarily think Norway would enjoy university so much as to get a bunch of degrees, but I think he would appreciate it for what it is and get degrees that would benefit his people and be relevant for changes in the society and world around him. These courses and dates are not picked at random.

[sepheroth]

❝ just give me a heads-up before you stab me next time, okay? ❞

resident evil: 4 remake starters

What was once a past time from what he would once assumed would be better come to known in terms as veiled under as a way to make certain either one, or both of them hadn't lost his own sense, speed or his own essential skill. He'd not been certain if it was because of the way in how Genesis learned to weaponize their passion. A way he'd forgive. He always would. Still, it was a tale and title he needed to learn to have gotten used to. Friends with benefits. It still felt strange for him to word it like that. Not because he doesn't believe it, but because they crossed the very fines and boundaries and borders of friendship. That bond strengthened in some way where it solved and both somehow intensified an unknown fear. Because admittingly, before he never thought of himself in said situation. Here he'd found his once iron-like grip slipping at his palms and his palms all the same felt hot. But not the sort that his brain would signal to him that they were on fire. And at his fingers more and more over by the helve of his blade feels looser but his other hand and wrist was careful to take heed of how his brain allowed his wrist to handle his stances and foot work. But once the blades would cross, hiss, and sometimes spark and sing it's tune in his ears that much felt like a praise no other would understand, Sephiroth remembered that he ought not have allowed himself to solely think of him of someone he'd known. The actuality of it might be true. First, it happened in slow motion and because he allowed himself to remember what they were doing and allowed himself to forget that even for a split second that they were intimate now, he'd duel him as though he were an untimely foe or an unseemly and untimely combatant. Due to this, his brain tricked him to thinking danger ran amok--clear as day. Then it happened slower and slower. If he'd had failed to notice a few seconds too late, Genesis may have met an unfortunate end. Had his brain not have allowed him to register the voice that dared to break his unreasoned with concentration. It was a loud and scraping hiss. Fortunately their blades had not broken. The stomping in his footing grew heavy before the rest happened and he pulled himself back and caught his breathing once he took his battle hand back. His chest stung from the rush he was hit with. Once his vision shifts back into a clearer focus before remembering how speak and Sephiroth blinked at the calmness that oozed and radiated from his partner. With an inward confident smirk (he's feigning, but convincingly so) "Naturally. Fortunately for you, even were I blind, if you'd not said anything--that easily might've spelled a certain end for you.The lasting affect of his sentence came at at playfully sort of tsk.

[kingkat12]

art on art (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, oral sex (female receiving), drug mentions, nasty fluff tihi

summary: why hasn't Eric reached out after leaving rehab yet, and how long does it take for marker ink to fade?

word count: 5,272 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is part 3 of my Eric Draven fanfic draw you! thanks again for the overwhelming support of this series, and enjoy!!<333

Some broken part of me never expected to see Eric again. I knew that the previous men in my life would leave the second they got what they wanted out of me, so why should I hope for this one to be different?

I had been out of rehab for exactly two weeks now, and I knew this meant that Eric was out as well. He had my address, he had my number, and he weirdly enough also had my email address... yet I hadn't heard anything from him. Not a single thing. I wasn't quite sure why my heart was breaking at the realization I had been thrown away again-- I should be used to this.

In actuality, I knew exactly why my hopes were up.

The last time I saw Eric, had been right before I was about to leave rehab. We were standing in my room, the guards no longer watching me as I was technically excused and only there to get my stuff. I was packing everything into a big cardboard box, unable to meet Eric's green eyes as he sat on my bed-- he just looked so damn sad, I couldn't bring myself to watch. 

At the same time, I couldn't believe that he was upset about me leaving; no one had ever cared for me like that before. "Why do you look like that?" I eventually asked, stuffing his drawings into a book so that they wouldn't get ruined during the move. 

"Like what?"

"Like I'm about to shoot a puppy,"

Eric snorted, a slight smile finally forming across his lips. "Just thinking about how shit these next days are going to be without you here,"

I dared to gaze at him, watching his chest rise and fall in a long sigh. Even while doing the simplest act of sitting, Eric looked downright gorgeous. His dark hair had grown even longer during the time we had known each other, which allowed slight curls to form along his forehead. Draped in pink, tattoos peeking up from the collar of his jumper, green eyes soft with feelings-- the sight was almost enough to make my breath hitch.

"Oh, you won't notice I'm gone," I mumbled, trying to lighten the mood at the same time as I tried to be discreet about shoving my underwear down into the box. "Time will fly by, don't you worry."

Eric shifted, moving closer to the edge of the bed. He stopped me from picking up the next batch of my stuff, leading my hands into his as his rounded eyes sunk into mine. "You're saying that as though I won't miss you,"

I held my breath, unsure what to say. 

Eric noticed my hesitance, squeezing my hands; "I will miss you. Do you understand that?"

Oh, I most certainly did not understand that. Not at all. But it didn't stop my heart from swelling, beating harder than it probably ever had before. It also didn't get any better when Eric led me between his legs, letting go of my hands so that he could put his against my waist. He looked up at me through his thick, long lashes, clearly trying to make me understand the longing lingering in his body. "Will you miss me?"

There was no question in my mind that I would. I'd miss him every second of every day, as I already did. However, I wasn't sure whether it was smart to tell him this, or whether that would make him lose interest like my previous flings. But weirdly enough, something told me I could trust this guy-- or was that just his pretty face doing the talking? "I will," I said, taking his face into my hands, brushing my thumbs over his cheeks in a newfound sense of affection.

Eric's previously glossy look suddenly became a hopeful one-- he pulled me even closer, my hands going up into his hair as he buried his face against the crook of my neck. 

There was something so sincere about him, that I couldn't help but smile. Even now, as I remembered it. Was I stupid to imagine that it had all been real? That he hadn't acted like he would miss me just out of pity?

This was definitely my insecurity talking. I needed to get it all out of my head-- which is exactly why I ended up going out tonight, my friends by my side as we made our way into our usual spot at the club downtown. Being back in the darkness of this place, music blasting through my ears, brought a lot of memories back; specifically the dark ones. 

However, I wasn't drinking. I wasn't taking anything, and I wasn't planning on doing so. In the back of my mind, I kept imagining a scenario where Eric would finally reach out and find me relapsed... and that was certainly not ideal. Then he'd definitely not want to be with me.

Maybe I just needed to forget about him?

And so I began trying-- it didn't take long before I sat down next to some guy trying to tell me about his life story. I had never been this disinterested in my life, allowing him to put his arm around me as I stared up at the light-show on display across the roof, lost in thought.

I wondered where Eric was. What he was doing, who he was with, where he was. Whether he thought about me at all. It quickly hit me that being sober at a club took away all the fun, and with alcohol floating around right before my eyes, I wondered whether I should bother staying sober or not. I didn't exactly have anyone to stay clean for, as I thought I would. 

And just as I was about to ask the guy next to me whether I could have the tiniest sip of his beer, I spotted a familiar tall frame across the room. I blinked several times, straightening up in my seat as though I was a woman possessed. I was sure it was him-- I immediately knew the second I saw the tattooed poem on his back peeking through the top of his shirt.

As though I had heard a gunshot, I got up from the couch, my whole body tingling with unexpected excitement. This was an adrenaline surge unlike anything drugs could give me, and it only grew stronger as Eric seemed to be leaving. 

Panicked, I sped up into a light jog despite being in heels, making my way through the crowd on the dancefloor. It didn't take long before I caught up to him, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt.

Eric had a bewildered look about him as he frantically searched who it could be that had held him back from leaving. When his big, green eyes finally landed on me, they widened as he broke out into a look of relief. "There you are!" he exclaimed, his large hands grabbing my shoulders. "I've been looking for you all over!--"

I was sure I would've started crying if I hadn't reached for the collar of his shirt, tugging him down to my level to press my lips against his in the neediest kiss I had probably ever shared. I flung my arms around his neck as he pulled me closer, both of us letting out relieved sighs at our reunion. 

I wanted to stay like this forever, swimming in the bliss of being reunited with the man who had haunted my every waking thought. However, I couldn't let myself revel in the joy before I got the answer to my question; "You never called!" I said, my hands now at the sides of his face. "You never fucking called!"

Eric hummed, connecting our foreheads as he closed his eyes. "I did... just from a different number. You never answered, so I had to track you down all the way here,"

My thumbs stroked over his cheeks, my anger simmering down into a slow ache. The thought of Eric calling without getting a response made me feel worse than bad. "How?" was all I was able to say, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose.

Eric blushed a little before pulling away, and I was unsure whether the reason for my sudden dizziness was the loud music or his smile. God, he was gorgeous. "Our dealers are cousins," he said, wrapping his arms around my waist as we swayed on the dance floor. "And your guy told me I could find you here."

"I see," The loving look in Eric's eyes nearly made me melt��� it was clear that he had missed me as well. But my questions kept coming to me; "Why did you get a different number? Is everything alright?"

With that, Eric's smile faltered just a little. His grip around my waist tightened as he brought one hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear in a loving gesture. "I... suppose there's a lot I have to tell you, now that I've come all this way,"

I could sense that this was serious— I had seen enough of those guilty eyes for one lifetime. "I see," I repeated, pulling him in for another kiss, reveling in the feeling of tasting him again. There was nothing I had missed more about rehab than this. "Let's talk it out somewhere else, then?"

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

It wasn't every day that I brought back men from the club— my policy was no men at my place at all, just in case I encountered a serial killer in disguise. But this thing with Eric was different; he could've moved in for all I cared. He could also proceed to burn it all down, rip me apart with his bare hands, and I'd let him.

However, the difference between Eric and the other men in my life was that I knew, deep down in my heart, that he would never hurt me; which is why I let him into my apartment.

I watched as Eric took a look around, his hands tucked into his front pockets as he whistled; "Quite the place,"

Shrugging, I made my way towards him as he towered over everything in my living room. "Sure is,"

Eric turned to me, a raised brow on display. "You're telling me you're loaded?"

I felt a bit embarrassed— I knew that once Eric found out the truth, he'd think of me just as all the other ones did. The spoiled girl who had nothing else to do but turn to drugs to get a high out of life. I couldn't help but grow nervous, unsure how to explain the truth to him; "Well... It's my parents' money,"

Eric nodded to himself, stepping towards me. "Are they around much? I didn't see them visiting you in rehab,"

The truth stung. "They don't want to look their biggest disappointment in the eye," I mumbled, my gaze falling to my feet. "But they make sure I'm still alive, I suppose. So it's not that bad."

There was a silence before I suddenly felt Eric's long, slender fingers beneath my chin, tilting me up so that I could meet his gaze. I wasn't sure what I was expecting to see, but it certainly wasn't this; compassion. "Their loss," he said, the emerald green of his eyes engulfing my being with unexpected kindness. "At least you got a great apartment out of it."

I let out a warm laugh, now keening against the palm of his hand as he placed it to my cheek. "I've missed you,"

As Eric smiled down at me, it was obvious that his heart fluttered at the sight of me. I had never thought someone would ever look at me like that. "I've missed you too," he breathed. "Thought about you during every waking moment of every day. You have no idea how glad I am that I found you."

I could barely believe this was real— didn't stuff like this only happen in movies? "If only I had known you called," I mumbled, placing my hand on top of his. "Being without you was just hell... What happened?"

Eric inhaled a sharp breath, an unintelligible emotion swimming in his eyes. "I want to be honest with you, but... I'm afraid you'll run,"

In a flash of desperation, I placed his hand against my heart. "I have nowhere else to run but to you,"

Eric's green eyes rounded out, his lips parting in confusion— was I maybe not the only one stunned by the confessions of complete and utter love tonight? "I— Fuck," 

With that, Eric's strong hands gripped my waist, pulling me towards him as our lips came together in a hungry kiss. The sheer force of it, along with the element of surprise, nearly had me stumbling a few steps back. But Eric only followed; I nearly moaned out as I felt his tongue against mine, my hands flying up into his dark locks and pulling him closer. I had missed him more than I had ever missed anything in the world, including drugs— all my swarming feelings of never-dying love had me pushing away all my needs for an answer from him regarding his phone, and I let my back hit the surface of the couch as Eric hovered above me.

"Missed you," he breathed in between kisses, a slight growl to his voice. Something told me Eric was trying to melt himself into me to make sure we would never be apart again— it only made my need for him stronger. I clung to him, my legs wrapping around his tall figure as I attempted to pull him even closer than he already was. 

Fuck, his lips were so soft. Deadly soft. The way Eric was nipping at my lower lip, occasionally sinking his teeth into it to draw out a whimper, was making a familiar knot form in my lower abdomen. I barely registered that my dress was gone before I watched him discard his shirt somewhere on the floor— now that we finally had time, I let my fingers run over his tattoos, smiling into the next kiss as I realized we would finally have that messy morning I was promised. I couldn't wait to lie in his arms, tracing every piece of art on his skin, taking it all in— this was heaven. Everything about finally being alone with Eric was heaven. 

"Missed you too," I eventually managed to moan out, feeling him grow hard against the apex of my thighs. "I don't ever want to be without you again." My breath hitched as Eric left wet kisses down jaw, neck, breasts, and stomach, knowing exactly where he was heading. I drew my hand towards my mouth, gently biting down to suppress a rather girly squeal. 

"You'll never be," Eric purred against my skin, sinking his teeth gently into my thigh to evoke a sound. "If you think we're ever going to be apart from now on, I need you to scour that pretty little brain of yours once more."

It was impossible not to smile, and I squirmed against the couch before Eric's big, strong hands grabbed my hips, holding me in place as he pressed a kiss against my clothed sex. However, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was doing this to avoid telling me what had happened in the moments we had been apart. Despite wanting to give in to the pleasure, let him tease me and keep me on the edge through the night, my mind wouldn't let me.

In the moment Eric threw my underwear to the floor, now kissing up my thighs and leaving me breathless, I propped myself up on my elbows; "Hold on," I breathed, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair in hopes of getting his attention. "Eric, wait--"

As he looked up at me through his brows, eyes wide with confusion as he paused for me, I didn't know whether I could go through with it. This moment was so damn precious, something I had been longing for ever since the moment I saw him; so why couldn't it wait? With a sigh, I laid back down. 

"You okay?" Eric asked, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle against my hipbone. "Wanna stop?"

That was definitely not it-- I let in a lazy breath, my eyelids drooping over my eyes as my body shivered at the feeling of his hot breath against my cunt. Everything about this situation was making my brain shut down. "No... I don't want to stop," My hands reached for his, and Eric let out a hum, his free hand now ghosting over my sex. "Just wondering whether you drew it or not."

"Drew what?"

"What we did in that stairwell,"

Eric's eyes sparkled with amusement as he laughed, placing a wet kiss against the inside of my thigh. "You bet I did,"

"Will you show me?"

He hummed against my skin; "Later... I'm a little busy here, as you see," Eric hooked his arms around my legs, dragging me closer to him as I yelped. I could only laugh, the realization that I had finally gotten all I had ever wanted hitting me just as I felt the warm trickle of spit running down my cunt-- my hips bucked up in surprise, my breath escaping me. I was about to prop myself up on my elbows for a second time, hoping to get a look at what the fuck he was doing, but as he ran his tongue up between my folds with a ridiculously soft touch, I could only whimper.

The memory of Eric saying he would take his time with me when we were out of rehab suddenly dawned on me-- I was in for the long run.

It didn't take long before he had me writhing beneath him, a whimpering, panting mess. With every swirl of his tongue around my clit, every time he sucked in my aching bud between his plush lips, I held back the urge to buck my hips up against him. It got increasingly hard to keep still, especially when Eric pulled away to simply breathe down on my sex, knowing exactly where he had me. 

"Fuck," I cried, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair-- I did my best not to tighten my grip, fighting the urge to use his dark locks as handles. 

I could feel Eric smiling against me, leaning down to press a soft kiss against my clit; my breath immediately hitched, bucking up against his mouth in an attempt to beg for more. His fingers dug themselves into my thighs, driving my legs further apart as he made space for his broad shoulders. I whined at the loss of friction when he tilted his head to look up at me, and a shiver ran up my spine at the look of his face, slicked with my arousal. 

A mischievous smile spread across Eric's plush, glistening lips; "Someone's impatient,"

I could feel my cheeks redden with embarrassment, lolling my head back down against the couch-- looking at him only made it worse. "Can you blame me? You're doing this on purpose," 

Eric hummed, one hand leaving my thigh to lazily rub soft circles around my clit, using my slick as a lubricant. It only made me squirm, letting out a shaky moan as my back arched slightly off the couch. Even worse, was that I started to feel a small tremble appearing in my hands. "Can't handle a little teasing?" he said, biting his lip as he watched me attempt to suppress my noises. "You keep saying you've waited for me... What happened to your patience?"

I held back the urge to simply kick him-- but that thought immediately slipped out of my mind the second Eric flattened his tongue against me, licking a stripe all the way up to my swollen clit. It was impossible to suppress the hitch of my breath, and the tug I gave his hair in response was purely instinctual. It surprised me further to hear him enjoy it; I decided to keep that observation stored for later.

I had a feeling Eric knew my mind was buzzing, that he wouldn't be able to toy with me much longer. There might've been a few giveaways that I was at my wit's end-- all of which left me feeling like an even bigger mess than I already was beneath him. "I- I can't," I whined, my words leaving me as Eric sucked me in once more. "Wait, please!--"

He hummed against me, now pressing his lips against the crease of my thigh as a chuckle built in his throat. "Fine, fine," he said, playfully sinking his teeth into my skin, his green eyes watching my every move. "I suppose I'm dragging this out... I don't know why I'm feeling nervous."

Nervous? Eric didn't look very nervous to me. "It's just me, though?" I tried, attempting to catch my breath as I laid my hand on top of his. My next words came out shakier than anticipated, especially now that he was kissing his way back up my body; "You don't need to be nervous."

Eric hummed, his large, tattooed hands kneading my chest, kissing along the hem of my bra. "It's just... When you left rehab," he started, his lips pressing along my collarbones. "I realized it took me days to recover after a dream with you in it."

The rush of joy surging through my veins reminded me of a hit of amphetamine-- it was all-taking, consuming, and I wanted nothing more than to press him so closely that we'd melt together. "Eric--"

"I've drawn you over and over," he breathed, kissing up my neck with a toe-curling softness. "In every way possible. Imagined the way you'd look at me after waking up in the morning, how it would feel to kiss your pretty little face good night..." Eric's lips hovered above mine, our shared breaths hot and shaky against one another as he continued; "I want you to burn into me like warm glass, mold into one. It sounds insane, but... how else can I ensure we stay together?"

My eyes were wide, finding his, as my hands reached up to cup his face. Like this, I finally had the time to admire the tattoo above his right brow, the deep scar on his cheek, and the tattoo above it. I stroked my thumb over the ink, holding back from connecting our lips just yet; "If you think I'm ever leaving you, I need you to scour that pretty little brain of yours" I breathed, watching his pupils dilate as I bit back a smug smile. "Do I need to remind you that I'm all yours?" My fingers now ghosted over his lips, still wet with my slick, as an idea suddenly hit me. "Actually..."

Eric watched in confusion as I shifted beneath him, now reaching for the table right by the couch. There, I had left a marker which I had previously used to write a birthday card, and I took it into my hand before laying back down, looking up at the puzzled look on his face. "I'm not able to physically melt into you, but..." 

Eric's green eyes widened further, watching as I popped the cap and drew a tiny little heart on the peak of his shoulder.

I met his gaze, beaming up at him; "I can leave my mark,"

The most unexpected thing happened-- The sight of Eric welling up in tears was not something I had counted on when I let my impulses take the lead. For a second, I got genuinely worried I had overstepped all boundaries until he pinned my hand above my head and pressed a needy, passionate kiss against my lips.

I couldn't control the moan that escaped me, my hips bucking up against his, feeling his hard length grind down and brush up against my clit as our chests came together, pulling each other in as close as possible. The need I felt for Eric was undescribable, ravaging through my being-- I had never wanted anyone as bad as this. 

Mind dulled by anticipation and pleasure, I barely registered that he had managed to pry the marker from my fingers and pull it into his hand. Eric disconnected the kiss, pressing his wet lips against my cheek before propping himself up on his knees, scanning his canvas. "I'm definitely dreaming now," he whispered, mostly to himself, hovering above me as he drove the marker tip to the point where my ribs met on my chest. 

I could only smile, watching my favourite artist at work with admiration blossoming in my chest. Knowing I would be decorated with his work made me even more hot and bothered; I did my best to get a look at what he was drawing without disrupting his process. 

Eric drew a line down my chest, a few leaves scattered along it-- it dawned on me that he was drawing a rose. A beautiful, big rose, with that same scratchy style that I recognized from his previous creations. I watched him dart his tongue out, keeping it between his lips, focused; I couldn't help but find it endearing.

"Art on art," he breathed, pulling away to drink in the sight of what he had drawn on my body. Eric's green eyes found mine, his shy smile returning to his plush, glistening lips. "You're beautiful. You're so beautiful."

"So are you," I held back the urge to cry happy tears, my hands reaching out for him. "I love it, Eric. I'm scared of needles, so I won't be able to get this tattooed... Meaning you'll have to draw it over and over. Would you do that for me?"

Eric let out a choked laugh, eyes glossing over as he put the cap back on the marker, discarding it somewhere before returning to his place above me. "I'd do anything for you,"

I hadn't smiled so brightly in what felt like years. Like this, at this moment, I was sure this was it. He was it. 

Before I knew it, we were completely lost in the fiery kiss that ensued-- Eric's tongue against mine, hands lost around my waist as my fingers hooked into his dark locks, our chests heaving at one another. I was so gone, so dizzyingly aroused, that when I felt his thick cock pushing past my sopping entrance, I could only gasp. 

Eric let out a grunt, both of us moaning into the kiss at the immediate relief-- I could barely believe that this was real, that we were back as one. In a sense, this was the melting together that we had both craved so badly. 

My nails dug into his back, leaving crescent marks in their wake as I let him push further into me. Eric buried his face in the crook of my neck, letting out a breathy groan against my skin when he finally moved. His cock stroked my walls the same way it had that one evening in the stairwell, the exact feeling I had chased as I buried my fingers deep inside of me every night since-- I had forgotten how the real deal had felt. How mind-numbingly��good it felt to have Eric in me.

I whimpered as I felt his cock throb upwards, immediately hitting my sweet spot, and I wrapped my legs around him, wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever. Knowing I bared his mark on my chest, knowing he had dreamed of this as well, only strengthened the electricity running all the way up to the tips of my fingers. I didn't know how I was supposed to last long at all, especially when I heard Eric moan out my name-- I shivered, pressing my lips against the heart I had drawn on his shoulder. 

I noticed a blush creep up his cheeks before he connected our lips once more, but it was hard to kiss properly when we were both in a heavy daze of pleasure-- we ended up mostly breathing against one another, Eric's green eyes watching as I let out a string of moans with every stroke of his cock. 

"You're everything," Eric rambled, nipping at my lower lip to suppress another grunt. "You're everything, you're-- Fuck!--" His hands dug into my hips, fucking me properly into the couch as he deepened his thrusts. 

My heart fluttered in my marked chest as I realized we were both looking down to watch our union-- the sight of Eric's cock pumping in and out of me, the wet sounds of our love filling the room, was almost enough to bring me over the edge. I also caught a glimpse of the petals drawn over my body, realizing I was admiring both the art and his body against mine. 

My back arched off the couch as Eric shifted, angling his thrusts upwards-- now, he was dead on pumping his cock against my sweet spot, which had me mewling out against his lips. "Eric, I-- I'm not gonna last, a-ah!--"

With glossy eyes, I watched a smirk spread across Eric's lips; "Let go if you need to," he cooed, his dark hair now kissing his forehead as he let out a laboured grunt. "We'll go again, baby-- hah, don't worry."

That was all I needed-- my heart fluttered, realizing we had all the time in the world to fuck all through the night. 

Forever, if we wanted to.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

This was nice. Stupidly nice. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this moment.

The softness of his fingers running up my bare shoulder, the kindness with which he bathed me-- I didn't even know this existed before now. I looked up at Eric, my head nuzzled against his broad, tattooed chest as we lay in post-coital bliss. I reached out to trace the heart I had marked him with, and I wondered what else I could draw on his beautiful body.

However, I knew I had to ask the question he hadn't been willing to answer yet. I had to look past how heavy his beautiful lashes looked in his drowsy state, and how badly I wanted to reach out and trace the upward slope of his nose, to ask what needed to be asked. "Eric?"

He hummed, glancing down at me. 

It was incredibly hard to take my eyes off his kiss-swollen lips. "You never told me,"

"Told you what?"

It felt as though we'd had this conversation about three times now; "You didn't tell me why you changed your number. Or why you waited to reach out. Or, better yet, why you didn't just show up here... I even gave you my address," I couldn't stop the imminent pout appearing across my lips-- I had forgotten how upset I was about this. "I waited for you. I nearly drove myself crazy thinking I'd imagined it all."

Sighing, Eric's gaze diverted to the ceiling. "I'm sorry. I will tell you everything. Just... could I have one more day?"

"What?" Something told me that his secret was a lot more damning than I initially thought-- why was he so reluctant to tell me? Did he think it would change how I felt?

"One more day," he echoed, his tattoed hand mindlessly traveling up into my hair as his eyes glossed over.  "Just give me one more day..."

I didn't know what to say, at a loss for words. Instead, I popped the cap to the marker in my hand, realizing I wouldn't be the one to deny him his one wish. Eric closed his eyes with a sigh of relief as he felt the tip of the marker against his skin once more; time was a gift I was willing to give him.

I was willing to give him absolutely anything he'd ever want-- I just hoped it wouldn't be the death of me.

(a/n: PART 1 and PART 2 linked here<33 thank you for reading!!)

[suiana]

(yandere! "good" boy x gn! player) (reader is an asshole)

"oh, so now that you've had your fun you're leaving huh? that's it?"

"yeah, you were fun because of your innocence. but that's gone now so I'll leave too."

you comment, dusting your pants as you move to leave his place. yeah... it was his innocence that intrigued you in the first place. bright eyes, cute blush... you knew you had to have him.

and you did! he fell for you awfully quick, listening to your every whim and demand. he was like a puppy. a cute and obedient puppy. he was obsessed with being your perfect boyfriend and it was really cute to see. plus he was good at learning the things which you taught him too!

but he learnt a little too quick.

that's why he quickly lost his appeal.

he became just like everyone else. corrupted and sinful. he's not worthy enough to be kept around any longer. yeah he has a pretty face but... everyone else does too. he doesn't really stand out. or does he? you don't really care to be honest. all you know is that you find him boring.

which is why you were leaving right now... well, tried leaving.

your now ex boyfriend clings to your shirt, eyes wide as his smile drops. his face pales as his grip miraculously tightens tenfold. his previously calm demeanour is ling gone as he starts getting desperate, not wanting you to leave him.

"no, you can't leave me. not when i did everything for you!"

he screams, face growing deranged as you grow slightly uncomfortable. geez... you didn't expect him to be this emotional. like, you knew he adored you more than all your past lovers but you didn't expect him to take it this badly. maybe a little crying here and there and begging but-

he's literally clawing at your clothes! is he actually a dog?!

"o-oi stop it..."

you mutter, feeling annoyed as you grimace at the pathetic sight. damn, you should've broke the news through text.

"no! not until you say you're not leaving!"

he cries out, suddenly tackling you to the ground as he pants heavily. damn boy! what the hell? you grunt softly, trying to push him off as he maintains dominance over you.

"no. you can't leave me. you're all i have left."

he mutters, the aura around him suddenly changing. you can't help but shiver at this, growing more than just uncomfortable as you try to avoid eye contact with him. ugh... maybe you shouldn't have told him you liked obsessive guys...

"you won't leave me right?"

he asks, getting all up in your face as you look away. you refuse to answer him. usually ignoring them works so you'll try that for now. and if it doesn't, you'll just have to break him even more.

you hum at your own thoughts, lost in your mind before coming back to reality as he suddenly starts dragging you to the bedroom.

"h-hey don't drag me!"

however your words fall on deaf ears as he continues to drag you like a sack of potatoes. he then chains your ankle to the bed, refusing to let you leave him physically as he crouches down beside you, a blank look on his face as he caresses your face.

"ugh..."

you grimace at his touch, turning away from him as you groan. maybe you should've left him before he got too corrupted.

[yeonzzzn]

devilish: sjyn + lhs

epilogue of chilling & killing 🔪 | spotify playlist

pairing: jake x afab!reader + heeseung word count: 2.3k

synopsis: you go visit heeseung in jail for one final interview about the ghost face cases…learning more than you expected.

genre: ghostface!heeseung, ghostface!jake, journalist!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, m*rder & sexual themes, heeseung and jake are insane (as always <3) I think that’s it!

Heeseung chuckled when he saw you sitting on the other side of the glass, his heart smile reaching from ear to ear. 

He sat down in front of you, tilting his head, “Awe, what did I do to deserve a special visit from you?” his voice echoed through the small holes in the glass, his voice a tiny bit muffled. 

You cross one of your legs over the other and stretch your arms out, hands resting on your knee, “I came to ask questions.” 

He chuckled again, “There’s the journalist YN we all know and love.”

“You don’t even know me.” 

Heeseung smiled, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth then releasing it, eyeing you up and down, “How’s Jay going?” he asked, tilting his head in the other direction, “You know, after you stabbed him three times.” 

You tried to not react, not to give him what he wanted: to see you break. “Jay is fine,” you said calmly, “He was released from the hospital yesterday.” 

Heeseung nodded, “Didn’t think you had it in you to be so feisty.” 

You still didn't react. But you had to agree with him, you didn’t think you’d have it in you either to attempt to kill someone until seeing the way Jay was hovered over Jake with Jake’s blood spilling on the floor. 

“So,” Heeseung said, sliding his cuffed hands onto the table, index finger touching the glass, “How did…” he glanced up to the ceiling, then back down at you, “how did Jake figure me out?” 

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table, “It wasn’t hard, Heeseung. Not after piecing everything together.” 

“Oh?” his eyebrows raised, “Tell me more!” 

“You slipped up,” you lean back in the chair, “First, you let me see your watch when you attacked me.” 

Heeseung shrugged, “That wasn’t something I was planning on, it didn't cross my mind. Sunoo had my longer gloves at that time and once I saw you leave your apartment, I had to ask fast.” 

You continued, “Second, after you attacked me, when we were discussing the murders, you specifically said, “we’ll catch him,” that narrowed it down to males specifically. So we had the watch, and what you said.” 

Heeseung stared at you, “Jake figured me out just by those two things?” 

You raised a brow, “I wasn’t finished. Besides, he is…you know. He knows how it all works, I suppose.” 

Heeseung had to give you that one, Jake was one smart motherfucker. 

“Jake went over all the cases again, looking at every piece of information given until he found the missing puzzle piece.” 

“He always was a good detective,” Heeseung leaned back in the chair, lowering his head at you, “Still will make a damn good one.” 

“Jake wasn’t one hundred percent sure it was even you,” you sighed, “But the more he thought about it, the more sure he became. Jake went into the film office, finding nothing that said it would even be pinned to Jay or Jungwon. Then he searched the investigation office, used his brain, and found Sunoo’s ghost face attire. That was another strike in your box, that you had help. The last bit of confirmation was how Jay attacked us. It wasn’t the same movements as when you attacked me. Plus anytime you talked to Jake as ghost face, you said his full name. Jay slipped up and called him Sim.”

Heeseung locked his jaw, anger raising through him at how he could have gotten away with everything if fucking Jay didn’t fuck that one up. 

You saw his gears turning and you smiled, “The only last bit was to draw you in and confess.” 

Heeseung evilly smiled, “Your boyfriend used you as bait to catch me,” he laughed, “he was so confident that he risked your life, all to catch me?” 

You looked to the floor. It wasn’t a risk Jake wanted to take but one he felt that needed to be done. Jake researched everything about Heeseung and took notice of every little thing he did towards you, it was obvious Heeseung had feelings. Jake knew Heeseung wouldn’t fall for a meeting if Jake was the one to call it, it had to come from you no matter how much he hated it. 

“Why did you do it?” you asked him once more, “Why drag Sunoo in on this? How many people did he kill?” 

Heeseung smirked, “I assume you already tried speaking to him and he gave you nothing.” 

You didn’t have to acknowledge it, you knew Heeseung already knew you spoke to Sunoo. All Sunoo did was stare and smile at you and occasionally giggle, “I want to know about the past department head too.” 

Heeseung sighed, leaning forward again, “I’ve always been obsessed with killers and how their brains worked. All the crimes they commit and how they do them. Watching plenty of documentaries growing up and different types of crime TV shows, it always made sense to me to become a forensics investigator,” he shrugged, “You probably could assume how excited I was when the ghost face killings started happening,” Heeseung chuckled at the memory of the first body that popped up on the news, “It was all exciting. Like a serial killer was on my campus. It was crazy. I rushed to the first murder scene.” 

He made eye contact with you, “Then there was you,” you swallowed, waiting for him to continue, “It was love at first sight. Seeing how you wrote in that little journal of yours, taking pictures and investigating. I knew I was in love.” 

“You don’t know me…” 

“Oh, but I do,” he bit his lip, “I followed you around everywhere. I looked up every piece of information possible and learned everything. I know how you like your coffee and you’ve never drank coffee near me.” 

The hair on your arms raised. Heeseung stalked you for so long and you never knew. 

“I spent so long trying to figure out how to approach you, to make you mine while at the same time, my obsession with ghost face grew. And then Jake joined your team,” Heeseung’s eyes grew with hatred, “I hated him the moment I saw how he looked at you. He looked at you like you were the ones who aligned the planets and slapped the stars in the sky.” 

You already knew Jake was interested in you since way before he even joined your team, he’s admitted that much to you. But hearing Heeseung say it made your heart race. Like it was fated that Jake would always be your endgame. 

“So I started following him around,” Heeseung confessed, “It didn’t take long for me to figure out…his secret.” Because of course it didn’t, “You should have seen how angry I was. Knowing the man I loathed because he had feelings for my girl was also the same man I obsessed with and looked up to? The mixed emotions were crazy.” 

You stared at him, “I can imagine, and I’m not your girl.” 

Heeseung frowned, “My admiration for him outweighed my feelings for you,” he looked away from you, “At least, at first. Not until I followed him off to your apartment, seeing how you figured out his secret and still let him fuck you on your kitchen floor.” 

“Jealousy is an ugly thing, Heeseung,” you whispered.

“Not so ugly when you felt him fuck you in public all because Jay was hitting on you.” 

You roll your eyes, “Continue your story.” 

Heeseung laughed, “Eager are we?” you narrow your eyes at him, “I stalked him enough to learn his patterns and the types of victims he goes for. The brand of knives he uses, even the cloak, and where he got his mask. I studied everything, all just to take him down, steal his title and his girl.” 

Maybe Heeseung was crazier than Jake. 

“But I had to get close, needed a reason to get close. So I committed a few murders and dumped my mask as a middle finger to him knowing it would piss him off. I learned how to bug devices, and was listening in when the news was on. It was the perfect time to introduce myself, then go commit more murders,” He shrugged again, “I needed to get close to you and your team. So I pitched to the dean about us joining together, but he told me to ask the department head. And as you know, she was murdered.” 

“I’m going to assume she turned you down, saying to stay out of it?” 

“You’re the department head for the journalism club for a reason,” he smiled, “She told me no. So I dressed up as ghost face and murdered her right outside her dorm room,” he sighed, “That’s when Sunoo comes in.” 

You laughed, “He caught you, didn’t he?” 

Heeseung nodded, “He watched me slit her throat and started acting like a fanboy, begging me to let him join me. He’s a major ghost face enthusiast.” 

It made sense. 

“Sunoo even knew I was a copycat,” Heeseung snickered, “He did his research just as much as I did. The only thing is he didn’t know who the original was until I told him. Then we started plotting together.” 

“And you had him do your side work.” 

“You’re on a roll today!” he clapped his hands together, “and to finally answer your question, Sunoo only stained his hands red once. The rest was all me. I wanted it to be all me.” 

“Why?” you asked with a shaky breath. 

“Again,” he leaned forward, “To destroy Jake. Destroy everything he was and what he had built. To murder him and take up his ghost face mantle and make you love me instead of him!” Heeseung clenched his fists, “I could have continued his legacy and had you at my side. Oh, the way I’ve dreamed of being in his position. Getting to be the one to be ghost face and come home to you every night and fuck you so so good. With Jake completely out of the picture. You were such a fucking tease with how you drew me into you, I knew it was too good to be true but I couldn’t help myself. Feeling your legs wrapped around me and lips brushing against mine, getting to finally touch you…” 

Your ears turned red and you stood from the chair, “You’re fucking crazy!!” 

Heeseung stood up quickly, leaning closer to the glass, “Says the one who is fucking a serial killer every single night.” 

You shook your head, “He’s changed.” 

Heeseung laughs a bit too loud, it echoing against the walls on your side of the glass, “Has he though?” he smirked, “Where is your boyfriend at right now? Do you know?” 

You swallow, thinking of all the places Jake could possibly be right now, not giving him an answer. 

Heeseung leans closer to the glass, his breath fogging it up, tapping his index finger against the glass, “I think we both know where he is right now, YN.” 

You slowly backed away, blowing off his comment, “We’re done here.” You turn on your heels, quickly pressing the button to buzz yourself out of this room. 

Hessung’s laughter could still be heard, “You know where he is, YN. Use that brain of yours!” 

You exited the mental hospital, quickly walking to your car and climbing inside, dropping your face into your hands and taking a couple of deep breaths. 

Heeseung’s words echoed in your mind over and over on repeat to the point you were driving yourself crazy. You sat back in the seat, glancing at the time on your dashboard, it was almost seven pm and you couldn’t help but wonder where your boyfriend could be, letting Heeseung’s words sink in and not wanting to actually know the truth. 

—

Jake’s laughter echoes across the empty alleyway, pulling his knife out of this random guy's chest, his blood splattering across Jake’s new mask. He lifted the all-white hockey mask up to the top of his head and pulled down the black bandana to his neck. 

“Awe fuck,” he breathed, staring at the blood dripping down the blade of his knife, “Feels so fucking good to slash with my favorite weapon again,” he coos, “It’s been too long.” 

Jake laughed again, leaning down and pressing the knife to the man’s neck, his eyes widened, and cried out of fear as he looked up at Jake, pleading with him. 

“Yes, I’ve missed seeing those desperate looks,” he pressed the blade more against the man’s neck, and Jake’s smile turned into a frown, “That damn copycat forced me to change my whole persona. My mask and outfit too. Such a fucking shame.” Jake slides the blade in and through his throat, blood going everywhere including Jake’s near face, it being the killing blow. 

He stood to his feet, wiping the blood onto his long-sleeved shirt, staring at his reflection on the blade. Jake’s corners of his lips curled upwards, him not being able to hold back his giggles that once again became a laughing fit. 

“Ahhh,” he sighs after calming down, dropping his hands to his sides and staring up at the nighttime sky, “YN is going to murder me once she finds out where I am,” his smile just grows more, “But that’s just the thrill of it all, knowing she could end me at any moment.” 

Jake walked deeper into the alleyway, grabbing his things. Who knew just chilling and killing could be this much fun? Mostly now that Heeseung took the fall for his plus Jake’s crimes. Jake could start fresh and rebuild what was taken from him. Oh man, he couldn’t wait to see the look on your face once he’s home. His cock twitched with anticipation just thinking about it.  

He tossed the knife up, catching it at its hilt then tossing it again, “We are so back.” 

‧₊˚✧T H E E N D✧˚₊‧

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[beejunos]

ANIMAL INSTINCTS | Alastor x f.reader

Summary: An unexpected rut makes you and Alastor act upon your feelings. Desperately and intensely.

This story was requested by @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog. The idea for the story is completely theirs; I just had the pleasure of putting it into words, and hopefully, I did a good job. Enjoy, darlings!

Tags: Dom!Alastor, rut, biting, smut, doggy style (the position is actually called prone bone, but that's a weird name if you ask me), creampie

For the most part, life in Hell mirrored life on Earth. There were homes, stores, libraries, work and gyms. Sinners went to restaurants with their friends and bought flowers for their lovers. Life in Hell could be quite pleasant if one could ignore all the violence and chaos.

Alastor revelled in the stark contrast between the underworld and Earth. Here, he found that everyone had shed their masks, revealing their true nature without the façade of modesty or fake politeness. The freedom he felt in Hell was unparalleled. Here, he didn't have to suppress his instincts; he could openly embrace them without fear of judgment or reproach. In this realm, he no longer needed to lurk in the shadows or carefully stalk his prey. Instead, he basked in the unbridled power and control he had meticulously crafted for himself, relishing in the unfiltered expression of his true self.

There was just one thing that put a wrench in his otherwise perfect afterlife. His demonic body.

In the depths of Hell, Alastor had encountered a multitude of sinners over the years, each with their own unique and otherworldly appearance. Some exhibited minor demonic features such as pointy ears and sharp teeth, while others had undergone a complete transformation, like the sinner whose very essence had been twisted into a demonic couch. At first, Alastor had felt a pang of sympathy for the unfortunate soul trapped in such an unusual form. However, as time passed, he found himself more amused by the bizarre and often tragic circumstances of the damned. Such encounters became a part of his daily routine in the underworld.

Alastor considered himself among the fortunate few with a body almost identical to a human's. Despite initially struggling with his large and overly sensitive ears, he was still considered quite handsome by demonic standards. However, it was not just the ears that were new to him.

When alive, Alastor quickly realised that while others did not share his murderous instincts, he lacked some of the instincts others seemed to have. For all his life, he never sought to do the devil's tango, as one of his old friends used to call sex. He had tried it a few times, mostly just to see what the fuss was about and because it seemed to be expected of him to want it, but after it all, it just seemed more trouble than it was worth. For most of his short human life, Alastor never desired the human body but the blood that pumped through its veins.

However, this all changed the day he woke up in Hell.

It quickly became apparent to Alastor that he had woken up as some form of demonic deer-man, something he had initially been quite disappointed in since he didn't feel like it conveyed a strong enough message to the other sinners. However, when his shadow had manifested with increased powers, Alastor embraced his new, formidable body with contentment. For years, Alastor revelled in his new body and his new life in Hell.

He was strong. Stronger than his human body had ever been before, he found that he could finally live entirely after his compass with Hell's lack of rules. But Hell is still Hell. Meant to torment the souls of the damned, and torment did strike Alastor after a few years in the afterlife.

As he would later come to name it, the Need crept into Alastor's being like a shadowy predator stalking its prey, stealthy and deliberate. It didn't strike all at once, but rather, it sank its insidious teeth into his tender flesh slowly, so slowly that he barely noticed at first. Like a venomous serpent, it released its poison in measured doses, corrupting his thoughts and warping his desires, turning his own body into an alien battlefield. Once sharp and disciplined, his mind began to fragment under the strain, waging war against the primal urges that had begun to claw their way to the surface.

The first time the Need truly manifested within him was nothing short of a revelation. It started as a faint tremor in his gut, a gnawing sensation that he couldn't quite place. It was an ache, a deep, pulsing hunger that steadily grew, coiling tighter and tighter within him until it felt like a living thing pressing against the confines of his very skin, desperate to break free. The hunger wasn't for food, though; it was something far more dangerous and primal. It was a desire that went beyond the physical, a craving that no amount of flesh could satisfy. This hunger wanted more—to hunt, chase, and devour. It yearned to sink its teeth into the tender skin of another, to drink deeply of their essence, to taste the raw, pulsing vitality that lay beneath.

At first, Alastor was bewildered by these new sensations. He had known hunger before, of course, but this was different, more intense, more consuming. It felt as though a part of him had awakened that he hadn't even known existed—a part that was wild and untamed, a beast that had slumbered deep within him, only now rousing from its ancient sleep. He tried to dismiss it, to ignore the insistent, throbbing ache that had settled into his bones, attributing it to the peculiarities of his demonic form. Perhaps, he thought, it was merely a quirk of his new existence, a strange dietary need that would soon pass.

Driven by this belief, he made his way to Cannibal Town several times, drawn by the tantalising scent of fresh, raw flesh. There, in the beautiful shops, he indulged in every manner of meat, tearing through pounds of it in search of relief. He savoured the rich, iron taste of blood, the texture of muscle and fat, and the crunch of bone between his teeth, but it was all in vain. No matter how much he ate, the hunger remained, gnawing at him from the inside out, growing stronger with each passing day. It was as though the food he consumed simply vanished into a void, leaving him more ravenous than before. The Need was insatiable, a bottomless pit that could not be filled by any earthly sustenance.

As the days turned into weeks, the hunger grew stronger and more demanding until it became a constant, aching presence in his life. It whispered to him in the dead of night, its voice seductive and dark, urging him to give in, to surrender to the primal urges that coursed through his veins. The Need was no longer content to simply lurk in the shadows of his mind; it wanted out. It wanted to take control, to drive him to the brink of madness. Alastor could feel it in every fibre of his being, a relentless, thrumming pulse that matched the beat of his heart, pushing him ever closer to the edge.

The realisation of what the Need truly was hit him like a bolt of lightning on a stormy night, sudden and terrifying in its clarity. It wasn't just a hunger for food, for flesh—it was a hunger for something more profound, more intimate. The Need wasn't just physical; it was carnal, a desperate, all-consuming desire for connection, for the raw, sensual meeting of bodies. It was a hunger for a mate, for the sweet release that could only come from the merging of two beings, from the surrender to the primal dance of desire.

With this revelation came a new kind of fear, one that gripped him tightly and refused to let go. Alastor was a creature of control, a being who prided himself on his ability to remain composed and detached, even in the face of the most extreme temptations. But this…this was different. The Need was something he couldn't control or suppress, no matter how hard he tried. It was a force of nature, a storm that raged within him, threatening to tear him apart from the inside out.

In his desperation, Alastor withdrew from the world, retreating to the safety of his own home, where he could hide from the prying eyes of others. He couldn't bear the thought of anyone seeing him like this, of anyone witnessing the raw, unbridled Need that had taken hold of him. The isolation was a double-edged sword—it gave him the space he needed to think and regain control, but it also left him alone with his thoughts, with the dark, twisted desires that refused to be ignored.

The Need gnawed at him day and night, a relentless, insistent presence that demanded to be satisfied. It filled his dreams with visions of flesh and heat, of bodies entwined in a desperate, frenzied dance. He could feel it in every touch, every breath, every beat of his heart—a yearning, a craving that consumed him utterly. He was starving, not for food, but for the touch of another, for the sweet, intoxicating release that could only come from the union of two beings.

As the days stretched into weeks, Alastor found himself on the brink of surrender, teetering on the edge of a precipice from which there might be no return. The Need had become a living thing, a beast that demanded to be fed, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before he could no longer resist its call. The hunger was too strong, too all-encompassing, and he was only a man—demon or not—trying to resist the inexorable pull of nature.

Ultimately, Alastor knew he could only hold out for so long. The Need was a part of him now, a dark and twisted companion that would never leave him, never allow him a moment's peace. It was both a curse and a revelation, a reminder that even in the depths of Hell, even in the heart of a demon, the most primal of instincts could never be wholly denied.

And then, just as it had once been there, the Need disappeared, and he was himself again. However, that did not comfort him, for he now knew that this new existence was just a part of his new body, his new life in Hell—a seasonal rut.

Life at the hotel often teetered on the edge of sheer chaos, like a tightrope walker balancing precariously above a roaring fire. Yet, in its bizarre way, it maintained a strange sense of peace—well, as peaceful as one could hope for in a place that served as a rehabilitation centre for wayward souls in the depths of Hell. The air itself seemed to hum with the constant tension between serenity and madness, as if the very walls of the hotel were alive, listening, and waiting for the next outburst. But despite the madness that swirled around you, you found solace in the routine of it all. You had a roof over your head, work that brought a sense of purpose, and friends who felt like family, albeit an unconventional one. In a realm where despair could easily consume you, in your humble opinion, these small blessings were worth more than all the riches in Heaven.

As a hotel maid, your days were usually filled with mundane housekeeping tasks—dusting off ancient chandeliers that hung like eerie spectres from the ceilings, scrubbing the seemingly endless floors that stretched out in labyrinthine corridors, and changing the sheets on beds that often bore the remnants of restless nights. The hotel itself was a monstrous, sprawling structure, its architecture a twisted blend of grandeur and hellish decay.

Occasionally, a guest or someone connected to the guests would lose control of their composure and attack the hotel. You had witnessed more than one instance where someone's emotional outburst resulted in a massive hole being blasted through the wall, or worse, through the roof. Alastor, the enigmatic and unsettling overseer of the hotel, would then swiftly summon shadowy, spectral figures to repair the damage. These figures moved with a ghostly grace, their forms flickering like candle flames in a drafty room, and they worked with an efficiency that was both mesmerising and unnerving. You had learned early on not to question it. Alastor had an aura of menace about him that made the others shy away from him, but to you, there was something intriguing about him. Something that pulled you to him. It could, naturally, be that he was a deer type of sinner, just like you, and you had never seen someone else like that before him.

Then there was Nifty, your fellow maid and a whirlwind of energy. She was small in stature but mighty in her work, flitting from room to room like a hyperactive sprite, cleaning with a speed and precision that was almost supernatural. She had a knack for tidying up even the most disastrous of messes in record time, leaving rooms spotless and gleaming as if nothing had ever been amiss. In the beginning, you had tried to keep up with her pace, but it quickly became apparent that this was a futile effort. Instead, you decided to focus on another crucial aspect of the hotel's operations—cooking.

In a place like this, where the boundaries between reality and nightmare were often blurred, food became an anchor, something tangible and comforting in an otherwise unpredictable existence. You took it upon yourself to prepare meals for the staff and guests, finding a strange kind of peace in the rhythmic motions of chopping vegetables, stirring pots, and seasoning dishes. The kitchen became your sanctuary, a place where you could lose yourself in the art of cooking and crafting meals that provided a brief respite from the chaos outside. You would experiment with recipes, combining ingredients in ways that were both traditional and wildly unconventional, catering to the eclectic tastes of your infernal clientele.

Each dish was a labour of love, an offering to those who, like you, sought comfort in the small pleasures that life—or the afterlife—could still offer. And when the day was done, the last plate was washed, and the kitchen was quiet, you would sit back with a cup of tea, savouring the calm that settled over the hotel in those rare, precious moments of tranquillity. Ultimately, it wasn't just about surviving in Hell; it was about finding those fleeting moments of peace and holding onto them for as long as possible.

On a day much like any other, you awoke in your bed, the soft rays of early morning light filtering through the gaps in your heavy curtains. The light seemed to dance as it crept into your room, casting delicate patterns on the floorboards and chasing away the remnants of sleep from your eyes. The air was still, with only the faint hum of a distant world waking up beyond the confines of your room. You lingered for a moment, savouring the stillness, before reluctantly pushing back the covers and rising to meet the day.

Your feet touched the cool wooden floor, the sensation both grounding and invigorating, pulling you further from the grasp of sleep. You moved through the motions of getting dressed, slipping into your familiar work clothes—soft, well-worn fabrics that wrapped around you like an old friend. The final step before heading downstairs was the comforting weight of your apron, slung over your neck and tied at your waist.

The Hazbin Hotel, usually alive with the bustling energy of its residents, was enveloped in a rare, profound silence. With its long, winding corridors and grand, if somewhat faded, décor, the building took on a different character in these early hours. The ornate walls, adorned with tapestries and portraits, stood still as if holding their breath, waiting for the inevitable stirrings of life to resume. Yet in these moments, before the chaos of the day began, you found a certain peace that was otherwise elusive. The quietude of the morning allowed you to appreciate the old hotel's charm—the way the light from the grand windows caught the intricate patterns of the wallpaper, the scent of old wood and polished floors, and the echoes of footsteps long past that seemed to linger in the air.

Descending the grand staircase, your hand brushed along the polished bannister, the cool surface smooth beneath your fingers. The echo of your footfalls on the wooden steps was a comforting, familiar, and constant sound. Each step brought you closer to your favourite part of the day—those first few moments in the kitchen, before anyone else stirred, where you could begin your morning rituals in solitude.

The kitchen was the hotel's heart for you. The dark wooden cabinets stood tall against the walls, their surfaces worn from years of use but still sturdy, holding all the secrets of your culinary endeavours within them. The floor, a classic checkered pattern of black and white tiles, was cool underfoot and always spotlessly clean—a testament to your careful attention. And then there was the range, a magnificent maroon beast that dominated the wall opposite the kitchen entrance. It was more than just an appliance; it was an old friend, a companion that had seen countless loaves of bread, pastries, and roasts emerge from its fiery belly.

You approached the old pantry to the left of the entrance, its door creaking slightly as you pulled it open. Inside, shelves lined with jars and tins, spices and dried herbs greeted you with the promise of a thousand possible dishes. But this morning, as with every other, your hand reached for the small, hand-cranked coffee grinder and the tin of coffee beans. The grinder was a cherished antique, its wooden body smooth from years of use, its metal crank polished to a dull sheen by the countless hands that had turned it. The beans rattled lightly as you poured them into the grinder, their rich aroma already beginning to fill the small space.

With a steady rhythm, you began to turn the crank, the gears inside humming quietly as they crushed the beans into a fine powder. The scent of fresh coffee intensified, mingling with the faint smell of cinnamon and vanilla that still clung to the air from yesterday's baking. You allowed yourself a moment to enjoy the fragrance, the anticipation of that first sip bringing a small smile to your lips.

Once the beans were ground to your satisfaction, you carefully emptied them into the percolator, setting them on the stovetop. As the percolator began to bubble and hiss, filling the room with the comforting sound of coffee brewing, you turned your attention to a small plate on the counter. Nestled on a doily were some cardamom buns—a remnant of yesterday's efforts. The buns were golden brown, its surfaces dusted with sugar, and the scent of cardamom was still strong.

You took one of the buns in your hand, breaking off a piece and savouring the soft, fragrant dough as it melted in your mouth. It was smooth, buttery, spicy and comforting, the perfect balance to the strong coffee that was nearly ready. You knew that starting your day with only coffee on an empty stomach wasn't the wisest choice, but with the cardamom bun in hand, the morning felt just a little more right.

As the last drops of coffee dripped into the pot, you poured yourself a cup, the dark liquid steaming gently. You took a deep breath, savouring the aroma before taking a cautious sip. The warmth spread through you, a quiet joy. This was your moment, a small piece of serenity before the day began. And in this stillness, in the gentle light filtering through the curtains and the soft hum of the hotel around you, you found contentment.

As you sat perched on the kitchen counter, your legs gently swinging back and forth, you sipped your coffee and savoured the last bite of your cardamom bun. The comforting warmth of the cup in your hands and the sweetness of the bun created a perfect start to the morning. The kitchen, bathed in the soft glow of the early light, was a tranquil haven, and you felt a sense of peace that was rare in the Hazbin Hotel. Your thoughts were only on the present moment, relishing the quiet solitude that these early hours afforded you.

But then, the serenity was gently disrupted by the soft creak of the kitchen door swinging open. You glanced up to see Alastor enter the room. His presence, though familiar, always sent a slight thrill through you. Today was no different. Clad in his trademark red and black striped suit, he appeared every bit the dashing and enigmatic figure you had grown to love. His posture was impeccable, as always, with his shoulders square and his back straight, projecting the image of effortless composure. But you noticed something others might not—a slight lethargy in his movements, a subtle delay in his usual brisk steps. Though still glowing with that unnatural red intensity, his eyes seemed to carry the faintest hint of weariness. He looked like he’d had a restless night.

It was a knowledge that only came with time. You had spent countless hours watching him, learning his habits, his idiosyncrasies, how his smile would linger just a fraction longer when he was genuinely amused or how his voice would drop ever so slightly when he was tired. These were the details that no one else noticed, the hidden truths you cherished as a testament to how well you knew him.

"Good morning, Alastor," you greeted him cheerfully, your voice light and melodic, not unlike the chirping of birds heralding the dawn. The words slipped out with ease, a reflection of the joy you felt in these quiet moments alone with him.

Alastor's eyes, as crimson as freshly spilt wine, turned towards you. Though sharp and intense, his gaze softened slightly as it met yours. And then came that smile that never failed to send butterflies tumbling through your stomach. It was a smile that could charm or disarm, depending on his mood, but to you, it was simply Alastor, the man who had somehow captured your heart.

"Good morning, my sweet," he replied, his voice carrying the remnants of sleep, a slight rasp that added an unexpected intimacy to his greeting. The nickname, one he had affectionately bestowed upon you, never failed to make your heart skip a beat. It had originated one evening when he had wandered into the kitchen in search of the bottle of rye Vaggie had hidden. Instead, he had found you, elbows deep in a mixing bowl, powdered sugar dusting your nose and cheeks as you prepared a batch of cookies. The moment had been simple, unremarkable to anyone else, but it had marked the beginning of something special between you.

A faint blush crept across your cheeks as you recalled the memory. The warmth of his words mingled with the warmth of the coffee still cradled in your hands. Alastor's presence always had that effect on you—an intoxicating mix of excitement and comfort, of familiarity and mystery.

"The coffee is ready, just as always," you said with a smile, nodding towards the cup you had thoughtfully placed on the counter beside you. It was a small gesture but one that had become a part of your morning routine, a quiet act of affection that you performed without fail. You knew how much he enjoyed his strong and black coffee, and you took pride in ensuring that it was ready for him the moment he stepped into the kitchen.

Alastor's gaze followed yours to the cup, and his smile widened, a glint of appreciation in his eyes.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice now smooth and warm, like honey. He reached for the cup, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest of moments—a touch so fleeting yet so charged with meaning that it sent a shiver down your spine. He lifted the cup to his lips, inhaling the rich aroma before taking a slow, deliberate sip. You watched him, your heart swelling with quiet happiness as you observed the way his eyes half-closed in contentment, the weariness in his expression easing ever so slightly.

As you sat there, the two of you cocooned in the quiet of the kitchen; you couldn't help but reflect on how these small moments had come to mean so much to you. It was in the stillness of the morning before the rest of the hotel awoke that you felt closest to him. These were the moments where you could be yourselves without the pretence or bravado that often accompanied life at the Hazbin Hotel.

You had long since discovered that Alastor, for all his flamboyance and charm, was a creature of habit. He liked his routines, and once you realised that he preferred to have his morning coffee around the same time as you, it became a shared ritual—a way to carve out a small piece of the day that belonged to just the two of you. It was a subtle dance, a quiet partnership, and you cherished it more than you could ever express in words.

As he took another sip of his coffee, you found yourself lost in the simple pleasure of being near him, of sharing these unspoken moments. There was a comfort in the routine, in the knowledge that, for this brief time each day, it was just the two of you against the world. And in that thought, you found a sense of contentment that made the early mornings all the more worthwhile.

As you sipped your coffee together, the familiar comfort of Alastor's presence mingled with a growing, unbidden sensation deep within you. The fluttering butterflies in your stomach, which had always been a pleasant reminder of your feelings for him, began to stir with a new intensity. Their delicate wings, once only a source of lightness and joy, now seemed to brush against something more profound and primal. The tingling sensation spread through you, igniting a warmth that travelled lower, coiling deep within your core. You blinked, startled by the sudden realisation—the butterflies had transformed into something else entirely, a throbbing ache that could only be the unmistakable stirrings of arousal.

Startled by the intensity of your own desire, you quickly jumped down from the counter, your feet hitting the cool tiles with a soft thud. In a hurried attempt to mask your flustered state, you downed the remainder of your coffee in one swift gulp, the liquid scalding your throat but distracting you momentarily from the heat pooling in your lower abdomen. The sudden rush of movement seemed to amplify the blood pounding in your ears, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

Desperate to avoid Alastor's gaze, you rushed to the sink, your hands trembling slightly as you fumbled to place your cup and plate inside. The clatter of dishes rang out, the sound unnervingly loud in the otherwise quiet kitchen. Words tumbled out of your mouth in a clumsy attempt to divert his attention, to keep him from noticing the flush that had crept up your neck and settled on your cheeks.

"Well, this was truly wonderful, Alastor, as always, but now I really must get back to work!" you stammered, your voice higher than usual, betraying your anxiety. Without daring to look back, you spun around, intent on making a hasty retreat from the kitchen and the overwhelming tension that had suddenly thickened the air.

But instead of the open space you expected, you found yourself colliding with a solid chest. You gasped, the breath catching in your throat as you realised that Alastor had moved completely silently and now stood directly behind you. Your heart leapt into your throat as you tilted your head back to meet his gaze. His crimson eyes, usually so playful and full of mischief, were now darkened with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

Alastor's right hand was hidden behind his back, his left still holding the coffee cup, though it seemed to have been forgotten. He studied you with an almost unnerving focus, his gaze piercing as if he could see straight into the depths of your soul. Yet, something was distant in his eyes, as if part of him was lost in thought, grappling with something unseen. His breaths came slow and deep; each inhale seemed to draw the air from the room, leaving you breathless in his presence.

You instinctively backed up, the edge of the counter-pressing into the small of your back as you tried to create some distance, though your body betrayed you by leaning forward, drawn inexplicably closer to him. The air between you was thick, charged with a tension that felt almost palpable as if it had a life of its own. You could feel the energy crackling between you, something heavy, potent, and utterly intoxicating.

Alastor's eyes bore into yours, and you could see the flicker of something carnal, something raw and unrestrained, within their crimson depths. The intensity of his gaze sent a wave of heat coursing through you, settling deep in your belly, where the ache from before had grown into a full-fledged hunger. His laboured breathing mirrored your own, the rise and fall of his chest almost hypnotic as you matched his rhythm, each breath filling you with a heady mixture of anticipation and longing.

For a moment, the world outside the kitchen ceased to exist, the only reality being the charged space between you and Alastor. The very air seemed to hum with the unsaid, the unacknowledged desires that had long been simmering just beneath the surface. The silence stretched out, heavy and loaded, thick with unspoken words and the magnetic pull of mutual attraction.

And then, as if on some unspoken cue, Alastor took a step closer, closing the small distance between you, his body heat enveloping you like a warm, intoxicating fog. His free hand, the one hidden behind his back, suddenly appeared at your waist, fingers brushing against your side with a touch so light it was almost imperceptible. Yet, it sent a jolt of electricity through your entire being. The delicate caress was enough to draw a soft gasp from your lips, a sound that seemed to hang in the air between you.

His touch lingered, the pressure of his fingers increasing ever so slightly as he held you in place, preventing any thoughts of escape. You could feel the power in his grip, the barely restrained strength that lay beneath the surface, and it thrilled you to no end. Your pulse quickened, each beat echoing in your ears, and you found yourself leaning into his touch, craving more of the sensation, more of him.

Alastor's eyes darkened further as he noticed your reaction, a slow, predatory smile curling at the corners of his lips. His head dipped slightly, his breath ghosting over your ear as he whispered, voice low and laced with a dangerous, seductive edge.

"What is it, my dear? You seem… restless." The sound of his voice, so close and intimate, sent a shiver racing down your spine, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you whole. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, couldn't suppress the desire that was rapidly spiralling out of control.

"Alastor, what are you doing?" Your voice, though quiet, held a steady resolve. Even as your heart raced with the thrill of being this close to him, a flicker of concern danced in the back of your mind. This behaviour was unlike anything you had ever seen from him before. Alastor had always been composed, a master of his emotions and actions, yet now there was something different in how he looked at you, wild and untamed. The intensity in his crimson eyes stirred a mixture of excitement and trepidation within you. You didn't want him to stop, but you needed to understand what was happening and what that look in his eyes truly meant.

As if your words had snapped him out of a trance, Alastor blinked, his expression momentarily softening. He seemed to realise how close he was to you, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he withdrew his hand from your waist. The absence of his touch left a cold void where his warmth had been, and a strange sense of longing settled in its place.

Without a word, he turned slightly, reaching over to place his cup in the sink. But to do so, he had to lean forward, his body brushing against yours most tantalisingly. Your breath hitched as his face came mere centimetres from your neck, and in that moment, you felt his breath warm against your skin. Then, he inhaled sharply, his nose grazing the curve of your neck as he took in your scent. The intimate gesture sent a jolt of electricity through you, making your entire body tingle with awareness.

The soft sound of his inhale, almost a sigh, was filled with a hunger that sent your heart racing, and before you could react, the sharp clatter of the cup hitting the metal sink broke the spell. You flinched slightly at the noise, your startled gaze flying back to his face. But before you could form the words to ask him why he had done it, why he had drawn so close only to retreat, he was already moving away, his form dissolving into the shadows that clung to the edges of the room.

Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as you stared at the space where he had been, your mind reeling from the sudden shift in the atmosphere. The air still crackled with the remnants of his presence, heavy with an unspoken desire that had hung between you like a charged storm cloud. You could still feel the ghost of his breath on your neck, the faint warmth of his body against yours, and it left you yearning for more, craving the touch that had been so abruptly withdrawn.

For a moment, you remained frozen in place, your senses still overwhelmed by the lingering traces of his closeness. His scent—a mix of dark spices and something uniquely Alastor—still clung to the air, wrapping around you like an invisible cloak. Your skin tingled where his hand had rested, your neck burning where his breath had touched. The memory of that fleeting moment was enough to set your pulse racing once more, the ache in your core intensifying with every passing second.

You couldn't shake the image of his eyes, the way they had darkened with something raw and primal as he had leaned in. It was as if a dam had cracked within him, and for the briefest of moments, you had glimpsed the depth of his desire—a desire that mirrored your own. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, your body responding to the mere memory of his touch.

But then, just as quickly as it had all begun, it was over, and the kitchen was once again empty, the shadows swallowing him whole. You were left standing there, your heart pounding in your chest, your body still humming with unfulfilled need. You knew that this encounter had changed something between you, and you had opened a door that could never be closed. And even though he had disappeared into the darkness, you couldn't help but feel that this was only the beginning, that whatever had ignited between you was far from extinguished.

The hunger in his eyes and the way he had inhaled your scent as if trying to memorise it were not things that could be easily forgotten. And as you stood there, the silence of the kitchen pressing in around you, you realised that you didn't want to ignore them. You wanted more. More of the closeness, more of the heat that had flared so suddenly between you, more of the man who had just vanished into the shadows but who, you knew, would never be far from your thoughts again.

The encounter with Alastor in the kitchen earlier this morning had left you confused, yet you couldn't deny the raw energy that still coursed through your veins. His touch, the way he had leaned in so close, his breath on your neck—it had all been so brief, yet so intense. The memory of it lingered, simmering just beneath your skin, a constant reminder of the hunger that had been awakened within you. It was a sensation you couldn't shake, a burning need that gnawed at your insides and left you restless. You tried to make sense of it, to understand what had transpired between you, but the more you thought about it, the more you realised that understanding was not what you craved. What you wanted, what you needed, was to find him again, to confront the tension that had sparked between you and see if he had felt it too.

With a sense of determination, you decided to channel that restless energy into something productive, something that might draw him to you. Alastor had always had a peculiar taste when it came to sweets—he wasn't one for sugary confections. But you knew he had a weakness for rich, decadent chocolate, the kind that was bittersweet, with just the right balance of indulgence and restraint.

The idea struck you then, sudden and insistent. You would bake something for him, something that would carry the weight of your unspoken desires, a message wrapped in layers of dark chocolate and anticipation.

In the quiet of the kitchen, you set to work, your movements purposeful and precise. You gathered the ingredients, each one a piece of the puzzle you were crafting for him: dark cocoa, rich butter, a hint of espresso to deepen the flavour, and just a touch of sweetness—enough to balance the bitterness without overpowering it. As you melted the chocolate and mixed the batter, your mind drifted back to that moment in the kitchen, the heat of his body so close to yours, the intensity in his gaze. The memory only fuelled your determination, adding a particular fervour to your work. You poured the thick, glossy batter into the pan, smoothing it out with a spatula, your hands steady despite the wild beating of your heart.

As the brownies baked, the aroma filled the kitchen, rich and heady, curling around you like a dark, enticing promise. You found yourself imagining how Alastor would react when you presented them to him, how he might lean in close again, his sharp eyes studying you with that same hunger you had seen earlier. Would he be able to sense the emotions you had poured into every step of this creation, the longing that had driven you to seek him out?

Once the brownies had cooled, you carefully cut them into neat squares, arranging them on a plate. The sight of them, so dark and tempting, filled you with a strange sense of satisfaction. You could only hope that they would have the desired effect on Alastor, that he would understand the message hidden within the folds of rich chocolate.

With the plate in hand, you made your way through the winding halls of the Hazbin Hotel, each step bringing you closer to the man who had left you in such a state of turmoil. The hotel was quiet, the usual chaos subdued in these early hours, allowing your thoughts to swirl unchecked. The closer you got to the radio tower, the more your anticipation grew, your heart pounding in time with your footsteps as you climbed the stairs to the roof.

Finally, you reached the door to the radio tower, a place that was as much a part of Alastor as the suit he always wore. You hesitated momentarily, the plate of brownies warm in your hands, the reality of what you were about to do sinking in. But the memory of his closeness, the tension that had crackled between you, pushed you forward. You raised your hand and knocked, the sound echoing in the quiet corridor.

The door creaked open, and there he stood, Alastor, with that ever-present smile that could be both charming and unsettling. His red eyes glinted in the low light, and for a moment, the two of you stared at each other, the memory of the morning's encounter hanging heavily between you. Then, with a graceful tilt of his head, he stepped aside, gesturing for you to enter.

"Well, well, what have we here?" he asked, his voice smooth, with an undertone of amusement that sent a shiver down your spine. He eyed the plate in your hands with interest, his gaze flicking back to you, curiosity—and something else—lingering in his expression.

"I thought you might like something to go with your coffee," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady even as your pulse quickened, ignoring the fact that he’d had his coffee over an hour ago. You stepped into the room, the door closing softly behind you, sealing the two of you in the intimate space. He took the plate from your hands, his fingers brushing yours in a way that made your breath hitch.

"Chocolate brownies?" he mused, his tone almost teasing. "You do know me well, my sweet." His smile widened, though there was a sharpness to it now, a glint in his eyes that spoke of a keen awareness of the game you were playing.

As he placed the plate on the small table near his desk, you couldn't help but notice the way his movements were deliberate and overly controlled. He turned back to you, his gaze once again locking onto yours, and you felt the air between you grow thick with the same tension that had crackled in the kitchen. Only this time, it was more intense, more charged with the unspoken desires that had brought you here.

Alastor stepped closer, the space between you shrinking with each measured step. You could feel the heat of him, the magnetic pull that had drawn you to him this morning. His presence was overwhelming, and as he leaned in, his voice dropped to a low, intimate murmur.

"You didn't have to go to all this trouble, darling. But I must say, I'm flattered."

There was no mistaking the intent behind his words, the way they wrapped around you, pulling you deeper into the web he was weaving. Your pulse raced, your body reacting to his sheer proximity, the dark allure of his presence. You could feel the same simmering heat that had driven you to seek him out, now burning brighter, hotter, in the confines of this small room.

He reached out, his fingers trailing along your arm, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"What are you really here for?" he asked, his voice a soft purr laden with meaning. The question hung in the air, heavy and expectant, as if he already knew the answer but wanted to hear it from your lips.

Your mouth was dry, your thoughts a tangled mess of desire and uncertainty. But as his hand came to rest on your waist, pulling you just that little closer, the answer became clear. You had come here not just to deliver brownies but to confront the tension that had been simmering between you, to see if he felt the same electric pull that you did. And as his eyes bore into yours, filled with a hunger that mirrored your own, you knew he did.

The radio tower felt both intimate and suffocating as you stood before Alastor, the heavy air around you thick with the tension that had been building all day. You had come here intending to confront him, to get answers about the strange encounter in the kitchen that morning. But as soon as you stepped inside, you realised that something was terribly wrong. The room was filled with his scent—rich, intoxicating, and overwhelmingly powerful. It invaded your senses, curling around your mind and body, leaving you feeling dizzy and unsteady.

You had heard of this happening before, this surge of uncontrollable desire, but you had never experienced it so intensely. An instinct and power that overwhelmed sinners with certain animalistic traits, and since both you and Alastor were sinners with deer traits, it was only natural what had come to pass. Your heat had begun, and the sudden realisation sent a wave of panic through you. The heat in your body was growing unbearable, every nerve alight with a desperate need you couldn't control. And here you were, standing so close to him, your body betraying you, pulling you toward him as if he were the only thing that could satisfy the fire raging inside you.

You tried to focus on why you were here, trying to form the words that would explain your confusion about what had happened between you this morning. But the scent of him was all-consuming, clouding your thoughts and driving you mad with desire. You could barely speak, your voice catching in your throat as you looked up at him, your eyes wide with a mixture of fear and need.

"Alastor, I… I need to go," you stammered, your voice shaking as you stepped back. You couldn't let him see you like this, couldn't let him know what was happening. It was too humiliating, too raw. But as you turned to leave, you felt his eyes on you, sharp and intense, and you knew he had already figured it out.

The flicker of understanding in his crimson eyes sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting to the silent acknowledgement of what was happening. He knew. And worse, he understood because he was feeling it, too. His rut had started, and the primal part of him, the part that thrived on dominance and control, was warring with the more civilised side that knew it wasn't right to keep you here, wasn't right to let the Need within him take over.

You could see the conflict in his eyes. His muscles tensed as he fought to hold himself back, his breath coming in slow, controlled exhalations. For a moment, you thought he might let you go, that he might allow you to escape before things went too far. But there was a hunger in his gaze, a dark, consuming need that made your heart race even faster. And you knew that if you didn't leave now, you might not be able to at all.

With a burst of adrenaline, you turned on your heel and fled the radio tower, your heart pounding in your chest as you bolted down the stairs. The corridors of the Hazbin Hotel twisted and turned as you ran, your footsteps echoing in the empty halls. But no matter how fast you moved, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched, that something was stalking you from the shadows.

The presence was palpable, a dark, looming force that seemed to close in around you, even though you couldn't see him. You knew it was Alastor, that he was there, following you, watching you. The knowledge sent another wave of arousal crashing through you, your body reacting to the chase, to the danger of it all. The thought that he was hunting you, that he could catch you at any moment, only heightened your desire, the heat in your core growing unbearable as you neared your room.

You slammed the door behind you, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you leaned against the wood, trying to calm the frantic beating of your heart. But it was no use. The room felt small, the air thick with the remnants of his scent that had clung to your clothes and skin. Your hands shook as you fumbled to lock the door, knowing deep down that it wouldn't matter. If Alastor wanted to get in, no lock would stop him.

For a moment, there was silence, the kind that presses in on you from all sides, heavy and oppressive. But then, as if summoned by your thoughts, the shadows in the corner of the room began to shift, twisting and writhing as they took form. Your breath hitched as Alastor stepped out from the darkness, his eyes gleaming with an intensity that made your knees weak.

He was in front of you instantly, moving with the fluid grace of a predator closing in on its prey. You backed up instinctively, but there was nowhere to go and hide from the desire radiating from him in waves. His scent was overwhelming now, intoxicating, filling your lungs with every breath you took. It clouded your mind, pushing aside any thoughts of escape, leaving only the raw, primal need that had been driving you since this morning.

Alastor's gaze locked onto yours, and the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you. The tension between you crackles like electricity in the air. His hand found your wrist, pulling you closer with a firm, unyielding grip that sent a jolt of heat straight to your core. His touch was searing, his presence overwhelming, and as his other hand came up to cup your chin, tilting your face up toward his, you knew there was no turning back. The need in his eyes mirrored your own, a dark, consuming fire that threatened to burn you both alive.

You trembled under his touch, the last remnants of your resistance crumbling as you looked up at him, your body screaming for the release that only he could give you. And as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, you knew that you would give in to that need, would surrender to the fire that burned between you, no matter the consequences.

"Tell me to stop. One word and I will, but tell me you desire me as I desire you, and you will be mine for the night and all the nights to come," he whispered his voice a low, dangerous static that sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. But you couldn't, didn't want to. You were too far gone, too consumed by the lust that had been building inside you since the moment you entered the radio tower. Instead, you leaned into him, your body arching against his as you gave yourself over to the heat, to the need, to him.

"Alastor, don't you dare stop," was all you needed to say.

His lips were warm and soft against yours. The kiss was only gentle for a split second before the desire, the Need, overtook both of you. Hands clawed at your clothing, and it did not take long before you could feel his skin against yours. His body heat felt scolding against your skin, making you wonder if he was leaving marks all over your body. His hand travelled down your back as the bottoms of your shirt were opened and pushed down your body. The feeling of his fingertips against your spine felt almost sinful in nature, and you wondered if you would ever be the same.

Alastor pressed you against the wall of your room as he stopped kissing your swollen lips and turned to rain kisses down your neck. In between every kiss, he would stop and drag his teeth or nibble your flesh, making your skin feel raw and hot. Having enough of his attention directed towards your neck, you buried your hands in his thick hair and pulled him back towards your lips. His ears laid flat for a second against your hand but sprang up again after he realised that you did not pull him back in rejection but to encourage him to kiss you again.

As you continued to make out against the wall, you continued to strip each other clumsily. There was no way of being gentle or structured in the heat of passion, and some clothing pieces could be heard ripping, but none of you cared at that moment. However, everything seemed to stop as you felt Alastors hand sneak into your underwear and drag a finger slowly against your wet pussy. You tried to inhale, but your breath was ragged and hitched at your throat.

"My sweet, sweet little dear, are you desperate?" Alastor teased as the tip of his finger slowly started to circle your clit. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you looked back up at the radio daemon. To someone else who did not know Alastor, it would look like he was unaffected by what was happening, but you knew he was far from untouched. His smile ever so slightly wider, pupils blown wide, his shallow breath hot against your skin, and the feeling of his erection pressing against your hipbone.

"Tell me, do you want it here against the wall," he asked, pressing you closer to the wall, "or do you want us to move to the bed?"

"Bed, please." The words whispered against his cheek, but Alastor heard you clear as day. With strength you didn't know he had, he helped you jump up with your legs around his hips as he carried you to the bed behind him. He softly put you down against the soft and cool navy bedsheets, following closely as he laid down over you, encapsulating you between his arms that leaned against the bed, his pelvis pressing against yours between your legs. The meer pressure from his cock against you made your legs shake, and your body feel all tingly.

His lips, his hands, they are all over you, and it’s almost too much. Every touch leaves a feeling behind, almost like a mark, and you revel in the thought of Alastor leaving something behind on you that’ll show everyone that you are his just as he is yours.

Alastors skin is warm, almost scolding hot, under your fingertips as you help him strip from his clothes. You kiss him with desperation you had never felt before as you buck your hips to put pressure on his cock, making him moan against your swollen lips. He presses you down against the bed as you drag your fingers through his soft hair, pulling his head back as you trail wet kisses down his neck. His breath hitches as you find a sensitive spot where the neck meets the shoulder, and as you suck on his tender skin, leaving a small purple mark, you can’t help but feel pride. You pull back and look up at the man above you with smugness. His cheeks had darkened in a soft blush as he panted above you, red lips swollen and eyes almost black with desire.

As if the final mental blockade fell away and all inhibitions flew out the window, you and Alastor tore away each other's clothes. Leaving only tattered pieces of cloth on the bed and claw marks on your bodies. Later, you would wonder if the pulsing and desperate neediness that had built between the both of you had just enhanced what was already there, but for now, you revelled in the warmth and tingling sensation of arousal. You were wet, and you could feel the slickness of your pussy as Alastor removed your underwear at last. The cool air shilled you at the same time it sent waves of pleasure down your thighs.

“Look at you,” Alastor said, his voice husky and laced with desire as he looked down at you. “Such a sweet delight you are—sweet enough to eat.”

As he said those words, Alastor slowly pushed his finger into your vagina, coating his finger in your essence before slowly pulling out. You could not help the moan you let out turn to a gasp as you looked up at him, who started to lick his slick finger clean. His eyes blazed with uncontrollable heat.

“Truly delicious. Come, my sweet, have a taste of yourself.” Alastor put his other hand behind your head and pulled you up from the bed to meet his lips in a messy kiss. His tongue forced itself between your lips, mingling with yours and effectively leaving the taste of yourself on your own tongue.

“Stop being such a tease, Alastor.” You said against his lips when the kiss ended. Your hot breath merged with his as you dragged your hands down his torso. You could feel every muscle jump underneath your fingertips as if they were shocked with electricity as you pulled your hands lower and lower. His pants, opened and barely hanging off his slim hips, weren’t difficult to pull down and made a soft sound as they hit the floor across the room. You gently pressed your thumbs down between his underwear and skin as you slowly pulled them off him. You could feel the goosebumps covering the man above you as your finger glided over his hot skin.

The first time you felt Alastor’s cock against your heated pussy, it made you believe that there was never going to be anyone else after him who could match the feeling. Hot liquid pooled between your legs as you instantly lifted your hips to get even closer, effectively pulling a low moan out of the man's trembling lips.

“Naughty, naughty little doe of mine. Control yourself,” he chuckled as he pressed open mouth kisses against your neck, but you didn’t want to control yourself. You wanted the passion, the heat, the feeling of Alastor pounding inside you as your legs shock from pleasure. And so, letting the instincts take over, you grabbed his cock gently, making Alastor let out a gasp against your shoulder as he gently moved his hips to make his manhood glide back and forth between your fingers. Desperate for the touch and the pleasure you could give him.

“Alastor, please, my dear, I want you inside me. I can’t wait anymore. I need you so badly,” you mumbled against his ear right beside your head, and with every word you said, you could feel Alastor’s teeth and nails dig a little bit deeper into you.

 With one single thrust, Alastor entered you after you had aligned him right in front of your opening. It has heaven in Hell, this moment when you first felt him inside you, and your legs instinctually closed around his hips to press him as deep within you as he could go. Everything was heightened. Every touch felt electric, every breath a heave, and every thrust sent a feeling of fullness and belonging inside you. The feeling was addicting, like the sweetest of wine, the nectar from the gods, and it begged and begged for more.

“More, more, Alastor, give me more,” you chanted against his skin as your fingernails dragged long red lines along your lover's back.

“Greedy, oh so greedy, my sweet.” you could feel his smirk against your cheek as he kissed your temple. “You deserve the world.” Was the last thing he said before he pulled away to sit up on his knees. His band quickly found your knees as he prided your legs open and started to slowly and agonisingly thrust into you. You could feel everything. His eyes roaming over your body, the cold air against your heated skin, and his thick cock slowly pushing in and out, filling you, teasing you. It was as if Alastor wanted to drag out your pleasure for as long as possible.  

In an instant, Alastor pulled out and flipped you around on your belly with a strength you didn’t know he had. Two strong hands took hold of your trembling hips and lifted them high enough to shove one of the thick pillows underneath. With your hips resting against the pillow and chest against the mattress, Alastor sat up further on his knees, towering over you, as he dressed your legs together with his knees so that your legs were now snuggled together between his thighs. You could feel your cunt flutter in excitement as you bit your lips, waiting for Alastor to enter you again. And he didn’t disappoint.

With one thrust, Alastor buried himself within you again as he bent down to whisper in your ear.

“Is this what my sweet little doe wanted? To be bent over, used, fucked till there isn’t a single thought in that head of yours? Do you want me, my darling? Do you want to be mine?” Every word he whispered was further emphasised with a slow and deep thrust. Pressing you against the pillow. Your finger dug deep into the bedsheets as you pushed your mouth to the mattresses to disguise your primal moan in desperation. But Alastor would have none of it. Instead, his hand snuck underneath your chin and bent your head back, effectively filling the room with the sound of your moans and the slapping against bodies as Alastor continued to fuck you.

“Don’t hide for me. I want to hear every pathetic little sound you make. I want to hear how good I can make my little mate feel.” Those words were the drop that made the goblet overflow and the last thing you need before an orgasm ripped through your body uncontrollably. Your pleasure seemed to snap something inside Alastor, too, for he quickened his pace. Chasing and intensifying both of your pleasures as you pulsed around his cock.

“Yes, yes, yes, your mate. I want to be your mate,” the words came tumbling out of your mouth as your whole body chook from the orgasm that beat within you like stormy waves against a cliffside. Nothing had felt more right than Alastor within you and the thought of being his as he was yours.

Alastor kept thrusting at a quick pace as your orgasm started to subside, but a new pleasure hummed with pride within you as you felt him come inside you. With every throbbing of his cock, Alastor’s nails dug deeper and deeper within the mattresses until he tore them apart.

Shaking, sweaty and tired, you let out one last moan as Alastor put all his weight against you as he lay above you, pressing you against the mattresses. You could feel his hot lips against your neck as he said,

“Well, aren’t my sweet little mate full of surprises?”

Well, would you look at that! I'm back! Did you miss me?

Jokes aside, I hope you enjoyed this smutty little story!

Hazbin gen. taglist: @reath-solia @everwolf-20 @alastorthirsty1

[lisired]

who needs cupid’s bow?

pairing: bff!haechan x (f) reader

genre/warnings: bff2l, suggestive, lots of sexual innuedos but no smut, fluff, a teaspoon of angst, mc & hc are oblivious to each other’s feelings and jaemin calls them out on their bullshit, mutual pining

summary: Cupid is not on your side, it seems. He’s made you fall in love with the worst possible person ever, AKA your best friend, AKA the man who still eats tootsie-pops—willingly. And frankly, it feels like the damn candy has a better chance of dating him than you ever will.

word count: 11.1k

a/n: inspired by down for you by kehlani, boyfriend by ariana grande, and serial lover by kehlani. another oldie but i kinda like it… kinda. as always, feedback is appreciated!

It’s safe to say that Cupid is your mortal enemy (Or immortal—whatever. Nonetheless, you aren’t the biggest fan of him.)

You don’t know why, but for some inexplicable reason, he always makes you fall in love with the wrong people. Such as Lee Taeyong from eighth grade, or your failed relationship with Kim Jisoo from your biology class in high school — a pretty girl, but you were as compatible as Mentos and Coca-Cola. Hell, there was even Jung Sungchan from senior year, who you naturally drifted away from during an exam period. They’re all chapters in your book now, but you’re currently stuck on the one about your best friend, Lee Haechan.

It seems like you’re Cupid’s mortal enemy, too. You and Haechan are always side by side, down one another’s throats, there’s no way his arrow could have hit you and missed Haechan.

Perhaps, it’s a hole you dug yourself in. Via mutual friends, when you were seventeen, you met Lee Haechan — jock, senior, and the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen. There was an instant connection between you two, all it took was a convo at a party about coincidentally both failing the same math exam, and you quickly became friends and close enough to pour out your heart into little rants whenever there was something personal bothering either of you, and you needed an outlet. You liked him because he understood you. He was patient witth you. You see, you aren’t the best at communicating how you feel, and he never makes you feel bad about it.

You remember breaking up with your then-boyfriend, Jung Sungchan, and while you weren’t heartbroken since you saw it coming and all the love had evaporated by then, you were devastated that you no longer had someone to kiss. That being your main concern made Haechan laugh. He thought it was the most you thing ever.

“Can I kiss you, then?” you asked, a little grin on your face, although you were very serious. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, kissing your best friend. He has pretty lips, and it isn’t like it’ll mean anything, you think. It’s just one kiss.

Haechan scoffed, biting off the last remaining piece of his Tootsie Pop off the stick. You’re kidding, he thinks. Why would you seriously want to kiss him? And after breaking up with your now ex-boyfriend? The wound’s still fresh. “You wouldn’t dare.”

To Haechan’s surprise, you dared.

He tasted like chocolate, exactly like a Tootsie Pop, as expected of him. You didn’t mind, though. You never do. It was fun, you liked the way Haechan held you in his lap and kissed you back with fierceness, and he still kisses you with that same passion, like there’s no tomorrow.

And that’s the problem.

Fast-forward four years later, you’re still best friends with Lee Haechan, only this time you’re in college, and have the fattest, most gigantic crush on him. Somewhere along the way, those lines between love and friendship were blurred. It’s impossible to pinpoint when, but you fell deep and hard for your best friend.

And the worst part? You doubt he’ll ever reciprocate those feelings.

One kiss turned into more than you can count on your fingers and toes.

Should you continue making out with your best friend who doesn’t reciprocate your romantic interest in him? Probably not.

Are you still going to, though? Absolutely.

“Y/n, I’m going to kill you,” Haechan states as he stumps inside the dining room. His hair is tussled since he’s just waken up from a nap, but you like this raw side of him. He looks gorgeous, and despite him basically threatening to murder you you still want to kiss him.

“Romantic,” you deadpan, training your eyes back on your laptop. It takes everything in you not to stare, but if you want to keep your feelings low-key, you need to follow a couple of rules.

“I know you took my Tootsie Pop. Where is it?”

You smirk a little, but it quickly fades into a line. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Okay, so maybe that’s a lie, and you both know it. You aren’t the only other person in the house, but Jungwoo, Haechan’s stepbrother, is asleep and wouldn’t cut his nap time short to do something as stupid as stealing the last of his brother’s favorite candy. That leaves you. As his best friend, you’re the first person to know Haechan turns murderous over those stupid lollipops, and that he’s the last person to know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie-Pop. In your personal opinion, they’re not even that good. But he’s loved them ever since you’ve known him.

“We’re best friends, y/n. I know when you’re lying,” he remarks, and doesn’t give you the chance to answer before he persists, “where is it?”

There’s only one way out of this.

Run.

Haechan follows almost automatically, and in spite of being barely awake he obviously has the upper hand because he’s always leaned more towards the sport-y side. This doesn’t deter you though, because you have a getaway plan.

In your attempt to somehow outrun a man that used to do track and field, you make a beeline for the backyard door. He’s not going to outrun you in the grass in slippers, you think as you turn to see if he’s caught up on you. You’re in the lead, albeit barely, with your body almost being in arms reach. You try to pick up your speed, and once you reach the door you hurry to turn the knob. Except, there’s one, itty-bitty problem.

The door is fucking locked.

And you already know you won’t have time to open it, so you cave in to defeat, whirling around with your hands up in a surrendering pose. Your plan’s backfired; you’ve been caught.

“Oh, I’ve got you now,” Haechan says cockily. He has you—hook, line, and sinker, and at this point you aren’t even upset. You can’t be upset. His eyes are on you, and his body is close to yours, dangerously so.

“Okay, you win. Happy?” You mumur.

“Not until I get my Tootsie Pop back,” he shakes his head, “now where is it?”

Smiling, you shrug. Of course, you know where the candy is, but he’s either going to have to win or pry the answer out of you.

Then, he steps even closer, and your heart starts pounding in your chest twenty times faster than your feet were against the hardwood. This isn’t your first rodeo, you’ve made out with your best friend countless times, yet the anticipation gives you a rush, like you’ve never done this before. It makes you feel like a teenager in love all over again — seventeen, young and head over heels in love with the man closest to you.

He’s back you into the door, and you can’t keep your eyes off his lips. Beautiful, plush, soft, and your eyes flutter shut as you prepare to feel the same skilled pair against your own, closer, and closer, and closer—

Crunch.

“I fucking knew it!” Haechan yells, jolting your eyes open. You aren’t even given the opportunity to register the situation before his hands are digging into your back pocket, retrieving his fortunately unharmed Tootsie Pop.

It feels like he’s gone before you can even blink, and realizing he’s slipped back into the hall, you begin to follow him into his room. “Hey!” you yell, and he doesn’t say anything, just looking up at you from his gaming chair with that damn candy hanging from his mouth, “why didn’t you kiss me?”

“Why’d you steal my Tootsie Pop?”

Okay, that was stupid, yes, but there was a particular goal in mind which was reached, even if for a short-lived moment.

You frown, “I wanted your attention.”

Haechan shakes his head, laughing. “C’mere.”

Somehow, those words never fail, making you melt and slip into his lap effortlessly every time. You’re like Jell-O to his voice, to his touch, to his whole. You’re a goner, some would say, and a part of you is alright with never coming back if it means you get to feel all the weird, Cupid-y emotions he makes you feel.

At this point, you don’t think you’ll ever stop kissing Haechan. In the time that you’ve been together, you’ve both been in relationships, hence putting the make out sessions on hiatus. They were never really long though, because you’d break up with them and inevitably find your way back to one another in the end.

His fingers guide your chin up, and once more your eyes flutter shut as his lips unite with yours. Haechan kisses in a manner that contrasts with the soft feeling of his lips. He always starts off gentle, but there’s a hunger that overcomes him as he stands up and pushes you against his desk, rough yet graceful and holding you so firmly, like you’re glass, but he wants to break you. And when he shatters you into all those tiny pieces, you don’t care. You want him to glue you back together and do it all over again. He’s intoxicating, he’s an addictive drug, but he tastes like candy, and you can’t stop coming back to him. He feels like home, the place where you belong. The place where you can be one-hundred percent, authentically you, safe and whole, more than the general perception than you. And fuck, does he kiss like the damn devil himself.

You were silly for ever believing it would only be one kiss.

Jungwoo thinks that for people who are trying to keep their not-so relationship-y relationship under wraps, you two are very loud.

Speaking of which, and despite the nature of your relationship, you and Haechan haven’t even discussed your label. You know that you aren’t friends with benefits—you haven’t crossed that line, but to be honest, those lines have been starting to look blurry for a while—but you also aren’t in a relationship. You see other people, you fuck other people, and when other people ask if you’re dating, you both deny it immediately. You’re just best friends, you both say each time like some rehearsed line, even if it breaks your heart to hear him friendzone you.

Karina and Mark even have an ongoing bet about you two. Karina is one-hundred positive there’s something going on, whereas Mark is probably the only person in the world that wants to give you guys the benefit of the doubt.

“For heaven’s sake, I can’t get any type of sleep around here,” Jungwoo rasps, leaning against the doorframe, “I really hope you guys don’t do this shit when Dohwan’s here.”

His judgmental eyes practically bore into your soul, and you thank heaven that you don’t have to worry about keeping this secret from Jungwoo, even if he would probably appreciate it more if you did. He finds you in a rather interesting position, straddling Haechan’s lap as you press kisses into his collarbone.

It’s all Haechan’s fault, really. Three years ago, Jungwoo made the mistake of walking inside Haechan’s bedroom without knocking, accidentally finding you two making out in a very touchy way on his bed because a certain someone didn’t think to lock the door. Not only did you ruin his quote-unquote innocence, but his perception of you forever, and ever since that ordeal, Jungwoo has never opened his stepbrother’s door without knocking. This time, it just so happened to be wide-open.

You bite your lip, feeling bad. Kim Dohwan is Haechan’s halfbrother of whom he babysits whenever available (and you like to tag on, because dealing with children is stressful and Haechan’s already stressed enough), and on weekdays Jungwoo has to wake up from his nap earlier to pick up the kid from school and bring him back home, then leave for work. You were too loud and disrupted the poor guy’s nap time.

“Oh,” Haechan says the syllable blankly, not too sympathetic, “did we wake you?”

“Of course not, I usually wake up at 2pm and take extra longs showers to start my day,” Jungwoo deadpans, “but whatever. I’m heading out. Don’t forget to go grocery shopping today.”

“Noted,” you and Haechan say simultaneously, gazing at one another and stifling giggles when you catch each other’s gaze. Jungwoo smiles at you, then flicks off his brother before parting.

When you’re both all alone again, a few seconds pass before Haechan’s eyes do that thing where they twinkle every time something catches his interest (or perhaps that’s the in love side of your brain making you see things.)

“Hey, you coming to Chenle’s Valentines Day party Monday?” You don’t know why he’s even asking, you follow Haechan everywhere he goes like a lost puppy. Maybe he’s discreetly asking you out. “Unless you’re actually busy, by the way, I hope you know you’re going. And maybe you’ll find some single pringle interested in a relationship. You can’t just kiss me forever, you know.” Oh. Well that eliminates that thought.

A part of you is yelling at you to decline, to lie and say that you actually have a dick or pussy appointment scheduled for the 14th, yet another is weak, in spite of you being aware of how this works. First of all, Valentine’s Day parties are mainly for single people who don’t have anything better to do, and each time one of you go to one, you end up meeting some stranger and hooking up with them. You know that’s more than likely what he’s going to do, and you aren’t strong enough to watch him flirt with other people.

You know how to put up a good front, though, so you’ll fake it until you make it.

“We can do a lot more than kiss,” you suggest with a wink.

Haechan grimaces, “No thanks. Now get off my lap.”

You frown, but climb off his lap nonetheless. “Wow,” you drag dramatically, “You’ll make out with me for what feels like hours, but sticking your dick in me is where you draw the line?”

“Precisely.”

You gasp in faux offense. “Oh, come on. Sex doesn’t seem so bad. Like, think of it as my pussy giving your dick a nice warm hug.”

Haechan’s at a lost for words, his face bright red. How do you even come up with this stuff? “Oh my god, are you coming or not?”

You joke, “I thought you said sticking your dick in me was where you draw the line?”

He shoots you a glare so sharp you’re sure that if you were still on his lap, he’d be barely resisting the urge to shove you off. You don’t miss the way his cheeks heat up, though.

Haechan groans exasperatedly, leaning back his gaming chair, “Y/n, seriously!”

“Fine!” resisting your best friend is literally impossible, you conclude, because you have officially caved in to his request—or, more or less, demand, rather, “fine, fine! I’ll go!”

“Great,” he grins with satisfaction, beaming with his thirty-two teeth, and you even see little gleams of smiles in his eyes, “anyway, Dohwan’s gonna be here soon, so let’s get ready to go shopping.”

You furrow your brows. You have a solid twenty minutes left, and all you really need to do is slip on your shoes.

“I need more Tootsie Pops,” Haechan adds, and suddenly everything makes a lot more sense.

And you roll your eyes. “We’ll get you some more Tootsie Pops, but you better not ditch us for the candy aisle!”

“Of course, not,” he smiles, not even trying to sound or appear convincing. “I’d never leave you guys.”

That’s exactly what he does.

You aren’t even remotely surprised, though heavily disappointed when he announces in the middle of the thankfully empty cereal aisle that he’s going to find Tootsie Pops, managing to run off before you can even protest.

Gripping the shopping cart, you avert your gaze from the Cinnamon Toast Cruch boxes to his figure, almost missing him jog onto the following aisle. You shake your head, a small smile tugging your lips. If it were the end of the world, Haechan would stock up on those candies before he would even think to consider water.

“Auntie Y/N,” you aren’t quite adjusted to being addressed as an aunt, but you aren’t against it either. You have the image all put together—rich, thriving, and the kids adore you, “do you love my brother?”

That was perhaps the very last question you expected the six-year-old boy to ask you. Your eyes are a little wide, but it’s a kid, you remind yourself, so you shouldn’t be worried. But shit, then again, if a first-grader can figure it out, you’re fresh out of luck.

“Why do you think that?” You crouch down to be eye-level with him, having a feeling there’s some misunderstanding here. Dohwan’s bright for his age and doesn’t let anyone forget it, but you’ll be damned if he’s sniffed you out.

He makes a face. “I saw you kiss him, just like mommy and daddy do. And my mommy and daddy love each other very—” he stretches the vowel, and you can’t but giggle, “—much! That’s why they made me!” then he gasps, and you fear what it means, praying he doesn’t ask what you think he will. “Will you and my brother have a baby, too? I wan’ a new friend!”

On second thought, you think you’d rather he would’ve asked you what you thought he was. You nearly have a heart attack in the middle of the aisle, yet still, Dohwan gazes up at you with his innocent, sparkly eyes. You assume it’s in the blood; Jungwoo doesn’t have them, and he isn’t blood-related to Haechan, but Dohwan partially is, and the twinkle is promiment.

Calmly, you reply, “Don’t you already have a lot friends?”

He does, you both know it. You vaguely remember pulling up to his sixth birthday bash and being in shock of all the little kids jumping and flipping on the Spider-Man bouncy house. You haven’t been surrounded by that many children since, hell, probably since kindergarten.

“Yeah, but I wanna be a big brother,” he folds his tiny arms and pouts, “It’s not fair Hyuck and Woo get to be big, but I don’t!”

With minimum success, you manage to stifle your laugh, stretching out your arms to bring the little boy in for a hug, “You’ll be big one day. Trust me, you don’t wanna rush it.”

“And strong like Superman?”

“And strong like Superman,” you reassure, all smiley and convincing. “Now let’s go check up on your big brother, he’s taking too long.”

Dohwan rocks from side to side as he walks, murmuring some Nickelodeon TV show theme song, and you push the cart until you’ve reached your designation.

Quickly, you regret acting on your impatience. The scene taking place at the back of the aisle is anything but comforting—Haechan’s talking to some girl, whom of which is literally throwing herself onto him, and you can’t help but notice the way he wallows in the attention. For fucks sake, all the attention you give him and he doesn’t even give a fraction of it back! Then here comes this random girl from your campus.

Sometimes, you think about how you could do everything she’s doing right now—twirl your hair around your finger, be touchy with him, giggling girlishly at everything he says, funny or not—and yet he wouldn’t bat an eye, because you’re best friends and nothing more. Kissing each other breathless is already normalized between the two of you, what’s a little flirting.

Sometimes, you wish you hadn’t kissed your best friend that day. You’re both too comfortable, everything is too weightless. I love you, Haechan says it back without a thought. C’mere, he calls and pulls you onto his lap or cuddles you to death. Fuck, he—on very rare occasions when making out goes a little too far—groans into your ear, groping you a little. Scratch that. It may be weightless on his end, but it isn’t on yours, and everything has an everlasting effect on you.

“Auntie?”

When you look down at Dohwan, your gaze is so, so tired. Your eyes do the talking; you can’t move your lips.

He hugs your leg. “I love you.”

His face is pure, innocent, but he reads you so perfectly. The corners of your lips turn up, and you ruffle his hair, “Love ya, too. Let’s go get your brother, alright?”

He bounces eagerly, and you both begin to stroll down the aisle until you’re beside Haechan. You’re in a selfish mood today, so you think of some remark to make in the process.

“Nice Tootsie Pops, Bowlcut,” you mask your tiny emotional breakdown with a joke, “Hi, Faith.”

“Hope,” she corrects, evidently annoyed by your presence, though she doesn’t state it outright. “My name is Hope. And… bowl cut?”

“Interchangeable,” you dismiss her correction carelessly. In all honesty, you already knew her name, but you’re feeling like a bitter bitch currently, “and yeah, in high school Haechan had this hideous bowl cut that he—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Haechan grumbles, “that was four years ago!”

“And I’ll never forget,” you’re smiling blissfully, nostalgic. “Anyways, what’cha two doing?”

“We were catching up, it’s been a minute since I’ve seen Hope here,” you hear Hope snicker at this, and something about it is extremely off-putting. He turns to her, “So, I’m in a bit of a time crunch. Could I have your number?”

Ouch. Right in your face, literally.

She giggles some more, typing her number in his phone, and you try to focus on Dohwan so that you don’t cave into your desire to knock her upside the head. There’s already so much on your plate, you don’t need an assault charge.

She smiles, all bubbly and giddy. You know jealousy isn’t a good look, but it’s still pissing you off. “See you around?”

“See you around,” Haechan replies. She hugs him, not forgetting to shoot you a look from across his shoulder as she does, and only once satisfied does she turns on her heel, sashaying away.

“Didn’t know pussy was on the shopping list,” you sneer, relieved once she’s finally gone. Her presence was suffocating.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he rolls his eyes, “at least I’m actually trying, I don’t know what you’re going to do when I’m cuffed down and—holy sh—I mean crap! You’re so quiet, I forgot you were here,” Haechan jumps, only noticing Dohwan when he pokes at his leg. “And don’t you dare make a cuff joke, y/n. Not in front of the kid.”

You yell in that defensive tone which is a tell-tale sign you’re lying, “I wasn’t gonna!”

Haechan gives you the look.

The we’re-best-friends, I-know-when-you’re-lying look.

And that look is utterly withering, so you decide you’re accepting defeat. “Okay fine, maybe I was thinking about it, but I wasn’t actually gonna say it. Not with him around.”

Haechan snorts, like you said something funny, but in reality he just doesn’t believe you. “Yeah, alright. Let’s finish shopping.”

You don’t argue, but there’s a lingering thought in your mind as you push the cart, rattling around in your brain still.

When he’s cuffed. Hmm. You can’t speak for him completely, but you both know how that one goes. When you get into a relationship, you think the person is great and they serve as a nice temporary distraction—that is, until you’re bored and realize no one will ever compare to Haechan, and especially not in the kissing department. So you break up, and then you go back to making out with Haechan, solidifying your suspicion that no one will ever replace your best friend. It’s the reason you don’t do relationships anymore, you feel bad for using people when you know it isn’t going to change a thing. It never does.

As far as your knowledge extends, things aren’t too different with Haechan. You and him don’t push things, you don’t pry too deep. There’s some unspoken boundary, and you know when to drop things. That’s why you both say the same thing each time you ask one another why you and whoever it was that you were previously seeing broke up—it wasn’t working out.

Like a moth to a flame, Haechan always finds his way back to you too, because apparently you’re the only person that can keep him tied down. You don’t think that’s the case, though. Your problem is you’re in love with your best friend, no matter how hard you try to suppress the feelings. His problem? You can’t be sure, but you’d guess commitment issues.

Whatever it is, and as selfish as it may sound, you want it to stay. He isn’t yours, but you like the comfort of knowing that he isn’t anyone else’s, either.

If Cupid had a human counterpart, it would be Na Jaemin in reincarnated form. He may not have wings nor a bow and arrow, but he does have dedication and a gigantic mouth.

“I can’t believe you called me over here for this,” you stand in an effort to leave, but Jaemin pulls you back down by your wrist, so you sigh, accepting that you’re stuck in the cafe and in the middle of a Jaem-terrogation.

“Not so fast, Sonic. You still haven’t answered my question. I don’t have all day, you know, I have other people’s business to be in,” he admits unabashedly, and you snort at his honesty.

Jaemin is an extremely shameless, extremely straightforward individual. He knows what he wants, how to get it, and the only time he’s afraid of letting someone know what he’s chasing for is when it interferes with his goal of obtaining said desire. He loves all things drama and gossip, and these are the lengths he’ll go to squeeze information out of you. No wonder he’s one of the writers for the campus newspaper.

“I don’t have feelings for Haechan,” you fiddle with your fork. “And even if I did, why would it matter? Haechan doesn’t have feelings for me, either.”

“Forgive me, but you’re a fucking dumbass,” Jaemin concludes, and you gasp in dramatic offense. “Why would I be here if he didn’t like you back, y/n? You know that he hasn’t had anyone over in two weeks? There’s like, three things at the top of Haechan’s list of shit he needs to survive, and that’s you, Tootsie Pops, and sex. Yet he’s gone two entire weeks without it. He likes you, really fucking bad.”

“Golly gee, Haechan hasn’t fucked anyone in two entire weeks. He must be head over heels in love with me,” you deadpan, ignoring how Jaemin rolls his eyes in response. “Be serious, Jaem. He literally got this girl’s number the other day. The man said himself that he doesn’t want to stick his dick in me. There’s nothing going on.”

Okay, so maybe Haechan is a raging sexaholic. Maybe he’s been a little horny recently. And maybe contact-full makeout sessions have been a reoccurrence in the past two weeks, but none of that matters, and he typically has extreme self control. Fresh as yesterday, he was definitely trying to get into Hope’s pants. It’s weightless, everything between you. It means absolutely nothing, and you’re trying to come to terms with the possibility that it never will. You wish your friends would accept the fact, too.

At least they don’t know you and Haechan make out, and have been for the past four years. They’d be insufferable, and you two would absolutely never hear the end of it.

“Y/n, please. Your biggest competition is those damn Tootsie Pops.”

“And if you told him that he had to live without me or the candy, he’d choose them over me any day.”

“Actually, he’d tell me to fuck off—and stop asking him stupid questions. You can’t tell me I’m wrong because I’m speaking from experience,” Jaemin grins, “I pushed the question until he gave me a proper answer. He chose you, by the way.”

You groan into your hands, “Unless you have some other evidence to provide besides this stupid question and him not getting laid in two weeks, you’re wasting my time here, Cupid.”

Jaemin sighs, “I thought I could pressure you into admitting your feelings—”

“I don’t have feelings for Haechan!”

“—that you deny having, but I guess taking the high road doesn’t work. Don’t worry, I still have plan B. I mean, you should be worried, but it’s whatever.”

You blink. “Plan B?”

He ignores you, standing up and preparing to take his leave. You’re still curious about whatever his alternative, backup plan is however, and he doesn’t look like he’s going to tell you.

“Jaemin!” You shriek. “What are you talking about?”

“February 14th, Chenle’s party,” he answers vaguely, swinging his bag over his shoulders. “Be there, or be square. Whatever that means.”

He exits without another word, leaving you dumbfounded and with a sudden dread in your chest. They don’t… know, do they? No, of course not. How could they? You’ve been keeping this secret for nearly four years, and the only people that know are Jungwoo and Dohwan.

Great. Another reason to dread the fourteenth, and despise Cupid—and his human counterpart, your actual mortal enemy.

“I know you like Regina George, but the dress code is Cady Heron.”

Bummer. You didn’t exactly plan on attending as a sexy bunny in fishnets and knee-high boots, but you don’t intend on wearing a Party City outfit, neither. It’s only the 6th though, so you still have a week and some change to outfit plan.

You frown, “Why the change? None of his past parties have had much of a dress code.”

“Because Chenle is also stuck babysitting his baby brother on Valentine’s day while his parents are having a date night,” Haechan answers. “I’m not saying you have to dress like a prude, but don’t dress like a slut, either.”

Ignoring the insinuation behind his words, you don’t miss the fact he said also. “What do you mean also? Don’t tell me…”

“Exactly what you think. Dad is whisking my stepmom away on a romantic evening date to only God knows where, and Jungwoo is busy with his girlfriend, so me being the sole single-pringle in the family gave him the bright idea to have me baby sit,” he explains, though he doesn’t seem burdened by the task. “I don’t really mind, though. It’d be one thing if I planned on getting some pussy that night, but no one’s smashing at a party where there’s children. I hope not, at least.”

You wince at that. You hope not, too. It’s a setback that you have to re-plan your outfit, but on the plus side, Haechan can and will help you decide this time, even if you have to force him.

So that’s where you find yourself a couple hours later, your bedroom a mess as the aftermath of the meticulous care you’ve put into your self-styling. You’ve narrowed it down to two outfit selections; option A, the white crop-top with the cute pink pants; or option B, the pretty and red mini-dress with stilettos. It’s a little embarrassing that hours of your indecisiveness have led you to this conclusion, but you want to choose the perfect outfit that’s also not overbearing.

“And I have to help you why?”

“Because you’re my best friend, and that’s what best friends are for, duh.”

Haechan’s favorite thing about your place is you have all his utmost favorite games—and that literally everything there is like a piece of you, from the decoration to the smell of your perfume bottles you keep in your bathroom. He’d never tell you that, though—so he wasn’t too enthusiastic about being interrupted from his video-gaming session. But then, he realized he gets a special preview of your Valentine’s day outfit, and Haechan loves the way you dress, probably an abnormal amount. Slutty or prude-y.

“Then what’cha waiting for? Strip for me, princess,” he demands jokingly. It isn’t normal for you to feel bashful by anything a guy says, but everything is so different with Haechan. It’s the littlest, simplist things that drive you over the edge, that make you want him in ways you probably, scratch that, definitely shouldn’t.

And all the questions, assumptions, and rumors regarding your nonexistent relationship with Haechan aren’t exactly unwarranted. You two flirt and touch an abnormal amount, and while it’s common knowledge that Haechan is a touchy person, and you’re a natural flirt, people say it’s extreme between you two.

That makes you laugh. When it comes to the tension between you both that people speak of, you wish you could see what they see.

“You want to watch me strip?” You’re genuinely surprised, only the other day he seemed repulsed by the thought of you naked. “That’s new. I’m guessing you haven’t gotten laid in a hot minute.”

Haechan rolls his eyes, silently confirming what Jaemin told you at the cafe, but you shake the thought away, refusing to let it spur you on. It doesn’t mean anything. “Anyways. You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen before, baby girl. Now, you gonna strip or what?”

“I’m stripping, I’m stripping! Relax, Liam Payne!” It’s really nothing he hasn’t seen before, because Haechan’s seen naked girls, and he’s seen you half-naked before, so neither of you actually care. You peel off your top, slowly and in a strip tease sort of way and look him in the eye, giggling once you catch him shaking his head. You don’t repeat the movement with your shorts though, simply taking them off and picking up your new shirt to slip it off the hanger.

Successfully discreet, Haechan wallows in the sight of you half-naked for as long as he can before you’re slipping on the crop top and the pink pants. Now that he thinks about it, he bought you those pants, and darn do they make your ass look good. Then he realizes he’s thinking about your ass and taking not as discreet looks at it, and shakes the thought away.

“So?” Your voice cuts through the silence. “What do you think?”

He needs a moment to gather himself and recollect his thoughts, because he feels like turning on Destiny’s Child’s Bootylicious and if spoke his mind he would definitely say something he’d regret. Like, I could fuck the shit out of you. He doesn’t think he should say that.

“What do you mean, what do I think? I bought you those pants, I’d be damned if I thought you didn’t look good in them,” Haechan supplies, making you roll your eyes in response.

“Very underwhelming reaction. I wanted you to fall out on the floor and pass out for a few seconds with your hand on your chest,” you pout.

“Definitely not doing all that,” he chuckles. “But you do look good enough for… somebody to do it. Anyways, it’s stripping time again. Get in that dress for me, princess.”

If he doesn’t stop with the pet names you’re going to combust. You hide it though, taking off outfit option A and putting on option B. You feel confident in your appearance, with or without him, but the way Haechan’s practically gawking at you does boost said confidence.

“What about this one?”

Okay, so Haechan’s one-hundred percent biased in his decision—or maybe he isn’t, since he didn’t buy this outfit—though nonetheless, he loves this dress on you. In his personal opinion, you’ll look good in anything you wear, but the way this particular dress hugs your figure perfectly is a bonus. He knows all eyes are going to be on you the moment you step inside Chenle’s house, and maybe he’s going to have to keep you and Dohwan close to his side.

Rather than replying verbally, Haechan walks forward and pulls you into a kiss. His hands dip around your waist, skirting the area until he’s gripping you like he’s afraid of letting go.

And as always, you melt into his lips. Like ice to the sun, or wax to a flame. It’s the umpteenth kiss in your whole lifetime, but Haechan always makes it feel like the first time. Like two love-struck highschoolers, except with a lot more experience. Haechan kisses you like he loves you, and you hate it. You might even loathe it.

His fingers slip down your hips, to your revealed thighs, like he just so happens to know that’s one of your weak spots. Luckily you’ve learned some of his weak spots too, and not really thinking, you don’t hesitate to aim for his most sensitive one - his neck. You can’t get used to how beautiful he sounds as he moans, your lips pressing into his sweet spot and leaving undoubtedly a mark.

“Fuck,” Haechan moans, “you’re my kryptonite, you know that?”

“A kiss is all it takes for you to fold?” You gasp out with a smirk.

“Shut up.”

Your grin widens. “Make me.”

Just as he leans in, about to pin you down to your duvet and kiss the life out of you while you’re thinking that maybe this is the tension people speak of, his phone rings in his back pocket. It feels like snapping out some trance or spell, like a reverse Cupid’s arrow, and he instantly backs off of you.

He takes a look at his phone screen. “I um, I gotta take this.”

Biting your lip, you nod. “Okay.”

“You look great though,” he comments, and you smile thinly at him as he slips from between your fingertips yet again.

It seems that you’re left all alone, pathetically wet, and wondering if that person on the other line is Hope - but you try to shake that thought off.

Sighing, you flop against your sheets. Love is some extremely cruel, extremely rigged game that only lucky people win, and it seems that Luck has sided with the evil that is Cupid. You’ve been dealt cards, and Haechan refuses to show you his hand. All you can do is watch it play out.

Haechan knew that something was dangerously off when Jaemin bought him a brand-new bag of Tootsie Pops without being asked, and invited you over for a movie night with the guys, offering to open up with you and Haechan’s all-time favorite movie, Mean Girls. He even offered to play The Kissing Booth next! Everyone else instantly protested of course, but the fact he offered in the first place is borderline suspicious.

Sure, Jaemin’s not the devil or anything, depending on who you ask. He’s… kind, and he can be a sweetheart. But Jaemin does nothing for free, and Haechan can’t shake the thought that this is planned bribery. And it isn’t hush-money. Jaemin doesn’t buy silence, he buys words.

By the time Jaemin asks Haechan to help him with the popcorn, he’s ninety-nine point nine percent sure that something is definitely wrong here. Yet still, he follows him into the kitchen.

“Alright, what’s up man?” Haechan wastes zero time, wanting to get to the bottom of all this. “I know you want something out of me. There’s no other reason you would offer to play The Kissing Booth, or buy me Tootsie Pops for free.”

Jaemin scoffs, but he doesn’t try to front, “Glad you know. Since we’re on the same page, let’s address this thing with you and y/n.”

“That’s what this is about?” Haechan grumbles. “I’ve told you, I don’t have feelings for her!” He whisper-yells.

Jaemin has heard that far too many times for it to be convincing. He’s positive that even Helen Keller herself could tell you two are hopelessly in love. Takes one to know one, he thinks. It seems the three of you must be blind, because you and Haechan are oblivious to your feelings for one another, and it’s painfully obvious.

“And Mary wasn’t a virgin,” Jaemin says ironically, making Haechan roll his eyes. “If you’re not in love with her, then explain what the hell is going on between you two. I know that she’s your best friend or whatever, but you don’t act like it at all. From a fresh perspective, someone would totally think you’re in love.”

Haechan hates that he’s right. It doesn’t make sense the amount of times you’ve gone to public places and had cashiers refer to you as a couple, or elderly people ask you if you’re together. Because you’re not. You’re best friends, and even if Haechan wants to be more than that, that’s his label. And he’s sure he’s stuck with it for life.

“You’re fucking Hope to distract yourself from your feelings for y/n,” Jaemin adds, and it’s a statement, not a question.

“I’m not—”

“You are,” Jaemin interjects. “Head over heels, in love with a girl you think doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, and you’re also being an ass to her, whether you know it or not.”

If Haechan was in a situation where he needed to simplify the reason you two click so well, he’d say chalk it up to compatibility and say it’s because you’re like a mirror of one another. Which also means he knows you, better than anyone else even, and he knows neither of you do the whole catching feelings things anymore. You like to fuck and flirt, and fuck some more, to avoid the fact that you love too hard. If you fuck people whose names you don’t even remember, it doesn’t mean a darn thing that you two make out.

No one really knows about that part yet. But they do know that you like to fuck, and that’s why Haechan thinks that if he’s an ass, then that means so are you. What the fuck is he doing that you aren’t?

Even if he is an ass, what is he supposed to do? He’s only recently realized that damn, he actually does have feelings for you, which is where Hope comes along and yes, he is fucking her to distract himself from you. So what? It’s not like it’s working, he’s still stuck on you, obsessed with the thought of you, craving your touch and the sound of your voice. He still loves you, and it’s so scary because no matter what his friends say, he thinks they don’t know you or your relationship like he does. They think they do, but they don’t.

“I’m not in love,” Haechan lies through his teeth, “maybe I’m in like.”

Jaemin snorts. In like? That’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. Not in love his fucking ass. “You’re in denial, that’s what you are.”

Haechan grumbles, trying desperately not to raise his voice so that the others don’t hear him from the living room, “Even if I did like her—and I’m telling you, I don’t—it wouldn’t change anything because she doesn’t like me.”

“You two are the same breed of oblivious and stupid,” Jaemin takes the popcorn out of the microwave, pouring it all into a bowl. He’s even laughing, much to Haechan’s confusion, but he’s apparently unbothered by Haechan’s lack of confession, “but fine. Lie to my face. I still have a backup plan.”

“A back-up plan?” Haechan repeats, lost.

“I just thought it would be nice of me to try and get you to confess before I have to work a Valentine’s day miracle, but unfortunately you two are a match made in heaven—both terribly stubborn,” Jaemin says vaguely, not really answering Haechan’s question, “so I guess we’ll all know the truth at Chenle’s party.”

Jaemin exits with the popcorn bowls before Haechan can even part his lips to ask another question, and he stands there, shocked and unsure of how to react. He’s concerned, though. Jaemin has something cooking (besides the popcorn), and he isn’t sure what, but it’s Na fucking gossiping blabbermouth Jaemin. That means it can’t be anything good.

So apparently when you and Haechan had that heated makeout session the other day, you left a trail - or in other words, you marked his neck the fuck up.

You hadn’t noticed because he covered it up with concealer, but you’re in the middle of another one of those when he stops you, preventing you from repeating your mistake.

“You can’t do that. People will see,” Haechan frowns. You wonder what’s the problem with hickeys. Is he embarrassed? No way. Haechan? Embarrassed? About hickeys? He has much bigger fish to fry.

In contrast, you’re over the moon. Even if he isn’t yours, marking him up makes you feel like he belongs to you. Plus, other people will see, and they’ll know that he isn’t theirs, either. Haechan also has a beautiful neck, you realize as you stare at his skin. It makes you wonder if there’s anything about him that isn’t beautiful.

“Would that be so bad?” You ask. “You’d look sexy all marked up by me.”

Haechan groans, “Do you ever think with your head and not your pussy?”

“I wish my pussy was my head. My head’s just so full of you,” you sigh dramatically.

It’s rare for Haechan to blush, but you somehow manage to make him full-on flush sometimes and you take that as an achievement. It’s partially the reason you love flirting with him so much, he’s so reactive. His reactions are cute sometimes.

“Be serious for 5 seconds,” he whines, and you giggle.

“I was serious,” you insist, “but fine, I’ll think with my head since yours is clearly not working. No one’s gonna assume they’re from me, Hyuck. Just tell them they’re from one of your hoes.”

“I know, but it’s not them I’m worried about. It’s, um…” he trails off.

You’re confused, blinking. If not your friends, then who on earth—oh, for fucks sake.

“It’s Hope,” you utter tonelessly.

“Yeah, uh, yeah,” he wonders why you suddenly sound so dry, and then the whole grocery shopping thing seeps back into his mind. You obviously don’t like Hope, and it’s not just you, really. Lots of people don’t like her. But Haechan needs a pretty face to compete with the image of yours in his head, even if it isn’t winning. “She kinda likes me, and—”

“Do you like her?” You don’t mean to ask so fast. It slips, like your mouth has a mind of its own.

Haechan shrugs. No, he doesn’t like her. He likes you, but he thinks that maybe he can somehow convince himself it’s the other way around. So he replies, “Maybe.”

Fuck. You try not to appear suddenly devoid of life, forcing a cheery smile. “That’s… nice,” you lie through your teeth. “Let me take this opportunity to have one last kiss before I possibly never will again?”

Haechan snickers, to silently say as if. He isn’t wrong for it, either. One kiss is never one kiss with him — never has been, never will be. There’s a reason you both bonded over bombing a math exam.

D-day rolls around, and you’re eyeing your frame in your full-length mirror, smoothing your palms over your dress as you give yourself a quick once-over before the clock strikes 7PM. You look like that bitch, and everyone in that party is going to fucking know it because you’re going to walk in there like that bitch. Fuck Cupid. You don’t need his stupid bow. And fuck Haechan, too. He’s your ride, but he’s gonna ditch you at some point in the party like he always does. It’ll be no different now, and this time, you’ll be the first one to leave.

The chime of the doorbell jolts you from your mental slumber, and you quickly reach for your purse then head towards the door with a heavy heartbeat. You know he’s already seen you in this dress, he chose it for fucks sake, but there’s something else that gets your heart racing—no. You can’t think about him. Fuck Haechan, remember? He’s no good for you.

“Here goes nothing,” you mutter to yourself, palm on the doorknob, “you can do this.”

Haechan’s sucks in a breath the moment you open the door. You look gorgeous. You always do, but in this particular moment, you look better than you ever have before. Those corny romance sayings usually make him laugh with mirth, but he’s genuinely convinced you look better everyday that he sees you. All dressed up like this, or not.

“You look so pretty, Auntie!” Dohwan beats him to a compliment.

You bend down to ruffle the boy’s hair, “Thank you, Dohwan. You look very handsome.” And then you look at Haechan.

He looks handsome as well, unfortunately. Jet black hair, exposed forehead, and his outfit is black with red hearts in the center of the shirt. You try not to pay him too much mind, but your heart and the place between your thighs don’t seem to agree with your mind. He catches you looking at him, and feels a twinge of anxiousness in his heart. Get it together, man, he tells himself. Lee Donghyuck doesn’t get nervous looking at pretty girls. Lee Donghyuck doesn’t hesitate about his actions, either, wondering if he should hold your hand, he doesn’t rethink what he should say. It all comes to him naturally.

“Yeah, you look beautiful,” he settles, mentally cursing himself for being unable to think of anything else. He blames you. Ever since you first snuck in his mind, you’ve been living rent-free there, and make it hard to think about anything else sometimes. That’s why he thought that needed distractions.

If you could relay the message to your heart, you’d tell it stop beating. Instead, you mask your emotion, smiling. “Thank you, likewise. Now c’mon, we gotta get there by 7:30!”

Haechan’s saddened by the dismissal, but you don’t catch his face as you walk to his car.

If you ignore him, you can do this.

Haechan cannot do this.

Something isn’t right. It wasn’t right the second he noticed you gave him a simple, rushed compliment, not bothering to make some sexual remark that usually makes Haechan’s cheeks feel like fire. You didn’t even kiss him before you got in the car. And Haechan’s sure you’ve been avoiding him like the plague, scurrying off and getting lost in the red and pink sea before he could even ask you if you wanted to check out the drink menu.

He doesn’t know where you are, and that haunts him. Turns out Chenle is paying Yangyang, Ten and Jisung to keep the kids entertained on one end of the house, whilst the adults do adult-y things on the other. You could be with someone else for all he knows, hell, you probably are. He was practically fuming when he saw some people staring at you as you walked in.

“Uh oh, I think y/n divorced Haechan,” Chenle jokes, and a choir of laughs follows suit.

Haechan grumbles, “A guy can’t miss his girl best friend?”

“Of course, you can,” Chenle drawls, “but everyone knows she’s more than just a friend to you. Like even if you aren’t together, there’s no way you guys don’t have feelings for each other.”

“Right? And they’re so cute together, too. A literal match made in heaven by angel Cupid,” Jaemin agrees, speaking as though Haechan isn’t right there.

“You’re dating y/n?” gasps Karina, overhearing Jaemin much to Haechan’s dismay. Oh, great, she’s as much as a blabbermouth as he is. The whole world’s going to think Haechan’s dating you in five minutes or less.

“No!”

“Yes, he is, spread the word,” Jaemin says, already knowing he doesn’t have to tell her. Karina’s mumbling I knew it under her breath before jogging somewhere.

“You know,” Haechan starts, downing a shot because if he’s not at least tipsy he’s going to die at this party, “she’s been making me watch murder documentaries with her and I’ve definitely picked up a thing or two. I’d be careful.”

Jaemin scoffs, “Please. You’re going to be kissing my ass and the ground that I walk on by the time this party’s over.”

There it goes. Haechan wonders what’s so special about tonight that Jaemin’s been hinting at vaguely. It’s been keeping him on his toes, but he doesn’t ask because he knows Jaemin, and he isn’t going to tell him a thing. The one time this guy wants to keep something secret.

An hour flies by, and Haechan still hasn’t seen you. He’s looked for you, and refuses to believe his eyes are somehow missing you, even though you’re in a crowd. He literally went up the stars and gazed over the railing for a better view, and you were no where to be found. You’ve refused to answer your phone, too, and Haechan doesn’t know what to do. He would just start talking to some random chick, but that’s not what Haechan wants. He doesn’t want some random chick. He wants to be with you. Hold you. Touch you. Kiss you, with no shame, no fear, in front of everyone, and he isn’t in denial about it. He wants you.

And Jaemin is fed up.

“Alright, I’m tired of you moping around drinking like a divorced man. Let’s go to the kitchen,” Jaemin suggests. Or commands, but still.

Haechan quirks a brow. “Where there’s nothing but more drinks?”

“Trust me, I’m not letting you drink anymore tonight. You have a wife and a kid to drive home,” Jaemin jokes. Usually he’d deny any sort of relationship with you that isn’t best-friendship, but Haechan simply shakes his head, following his friend and roommate into the kitchen.

Then he sees you, and his jaw doesn’t just drop, but it falls flat on the ground, bounces a little, and comes back down. You’re clinging to Chenle’s side with a confused face, equally as surprised to see him, though not very delighted.

“What’s going on?”

“What’s going on?”

You stare at one another.

“Stop copying me!”

“Stop copying me!”

Jaemin and Chenle stare at one another, then stare at you two staring at one another, and stare at one another again.

“I hate to interrupt your… stare-off, but there’s a reason we brought you two here,” Jaemin interjects, making you two finally split gazes as you stare at him, confused.

“Which is?”

“Which is?”

You glare at him. Jaemin’s success was short-lived, it seems.

“Drum roll, please,” he says, and Chenle begins tapping against the counter, “Dohwan!”

Suddenly, Dohwan pops up from around the corner. He’s on the completely wrong side of the house, and while he’s under adult supervision, you still wonder why he’s here.

You blink. “What’s he doing here?”

Jaemin smirks. “I’m glad you asked. Dohwan tells me he’s witnessing some very interesting sights of the two of you. Go ahead and tell us what you saw, kiddo.”

“I saw Haechan and Auntie y/n kissing, like mommy and daddy do!” Dohwan shares, grimacing in disgust. If you weren’t practically fearing for your life right now, you’d probably laugh at his reaction.

“And how often do you see this?” Chenle adds.

“Um…” the kid ponders, “every time Auntie y/n comes over. I heard them say they wanted to keep it a secret from me, but they’re not very good at it.”

Haechan shoots you a panicked look, and you’re wearing the exact same one. By the time you realize that this is what Jaemin’s been hinting at this whole time, it’s much too late. Your secret has been exposed to the worst people ever, and now they’re definitely going to think you’re dating. 

“Thank you for your input, Dohwan,” Jaemin smiles, then turns to look at you and Haechan. You’re both frozen and stiff, unsure of how to respond. “So, anything to say about this?”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Haechan’s quick to say. You hope no one catches the way your face falters with hurt for a split second. “If you want me to be honest, then fine, I will. Yeah, we kiss. We’ve been kissing since high school, but it didn’t mean anything then and it doesn’t mean anything now. We just, I don’t know, do it for fun.”

Chenle deadpans, “So you just kiss for pure, innocent fun.”

“Exactly,” Haechan nods. “It means nothing.”

It means something to me, you think to yourself, and when you notice the silence in the room, you gaze up to see everyone’s eyes on you, Haechan’s a little wide. Oh, fuck.

“I said that aloud, didn’t I?”

“Yep,” Jaemin grins. He was right. “Is there something you want to share with the class?”

Stupidly, you decide to look at Haechan, and he’s re-lost his composure, frozen up and stiff all over again. Your heart is pounding harder than it has been all night. It’s partially the alcohol, but you can feel it in your veins and all around you. It won’t leave you alone, and looking at Haechan, it’s faster, as if to say he’s the one I want.

So you choose to make another decision that you might possibly regret, but you have to get this off your chest. It isn’t news to anyone but Haechan anyways.

“Donghyuck,” you start, and he knows it’s getting serious because you just said his government name. You literally never call him by his government name. “I know we agreed to keep things platonic, and for it to mean nothing, but I want you. Like really, really bad. I think I—no, everyone’s right, I really am, extremely in love with you. If you don’t feel the same I understand, I just had to get this off my che—”

You aren’t given the chance to finish before Haechan swoops you in his arms, reaching for your waist as he pulls you into a kiss. There’s a chorus of cheers from Chenle and Jaemin, followed by a shriek of disgust from Dohwan as he covers his eyes, but you two aren’t trying to hide anymore, you want to scream from the rooftops that you’re in love. Yes, the infamous Lee Donghyuck and y/n know more than flirting and fucking. You’re in love, drunk off of a sip of it and the taste of Haechan’s lips, and god, has kissing your best friend never felt better.

“Let’s give the newlywed couple some privacy now,” Jaemin says with a grin. Gosh, he really is the spawn of Cupid, but you have to thank him. This wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for his stupid ‘gotcha!’ plan. “You two work this out.”

The three of them pile out, and you and Haechan part from one another to breathe. You stay in comfortable silence for a moment, his hands slipping into yours.

“Your hands are sweating,” you comment after a while.

“It’s hot.”

“It’s the middle of February.”

“So? Global warming is real, you know,” Haechan shrugs, refusing to acknowledge the fact that his hand is sweating because he’s nervous. He’s accepted that you make him feel all warm inside and his heart feel like mush, but he still isn’t used to not hiding the way you make him feel.

You laugh but don’t press things. “Newlywed couple, huh. Can’t be, you still haven’t popped the question.”

“Yeah?” He laughs, too. “Then will you take my hand in marriage and take me as your illegally wedded husband?”

You hum, pretending to contemplate, “Hmm, I don’t know. You sure you don’t wanna marry a giant cardboard Tootsie Pop cutout? Or what about that girl? What happened to her, by the way, I thought you said you liked her.”

Haechan groans, not really wanting to think about her right now, “No more Hope. Ironically, she’s a lost cause. I had to cut shit with her because she can’t comprehend what a fling is. She wanted a relationship, and you know, I lied to you when I said that I might want her. I didn’t know you liked me back until, like, now, so I was just saying shit in hopes of convincing myself I could stop liking you. That planned failed, though.”

His words lift a massive weight off of your shoulders, and you finally feel like you can breathe now. Take that, bitch, you think with a smirk. She was giggling in your face so hard at the grocery store, but you’re having the last laugh.

You tilt your head. “What about the Tootsie Pops?”

“Yeah, sorry but I can’t give them up as easily. Would you mind a Tootsie Pop bouquet?”

Gosh, this is the man you love. You roll your eyes, but smile as you reply, “You know, you’re like a Tootsie Pop.”

If Haechan were a dog, his ears would perk up right now. “How come?”

“I’ll never know how long I’ll be able to kiss you without wanting to fuck you,” you lean in his ear to purr, voice tickling his neck. You eye it and his lips, and lord knows you can’t wait to finally be able to mark him up again.

“Yeah? Wanna go home, put Dohwan to sleep, and let me take this dress off you?” He grips at your waist, his hand resting there with the burning urge to dip lower. He bites his lip.

“Thought you drew the line at sticking your dick in me,” you joke.

“That was when I was in denial about wanting you,” Haechan whispers, “but now I can admit to myself that even though you amazing in this dress, I wanna take it off of you. Your body’s perfect.”

“I kinda hate the scar on my thigh.”

“Don’t. It provides depth to your character. It makes someone wonder how you got it, the story of how it happened,” he answers, ever so deeply.

“Poetic,” you snort, “can’t tell if you’re giving me Bruno Mars or John Legend vibes more right now.”

Haechan rolls his eyes, smiling. “You said you’d never know how long you’d be able to kiss me without dying to fuck me, right?”

“I never said dying.”

He ignores you, “Then let’s put it to the test, shall we?”

Your lips wind up pressed firmly to his, with your hands on his cheek and his palms on your hips yet again. It’s fiercer than ever, Haechan’s kissing you like he doesn’t want to let you breathe, like he wants to stay in this moment with you forever. He kisses you with love and lust, with passion and desire, with emotion and no more fear in his chocolate-y eyes. You don’t regret kissing Haechan that day. It took a while, but it brought you to this moment where you can finally call him yours. And that one more kiss stuff is bullshit. His lips are yours and vice versa, and as you’re by each other’s side, you’ll never stop kissing him. And he’ll never stop kissing you.

“They’re here!” Karina suddenly bursts into the kitchen, pointing at you and Haechan. “Look! I told you they were dating!”

Oh, god. You totally forgot about Karina’s stupid bet with Mark. Mark looks entirely devastated and surprised, devastated because that’s twenty-five bucks gone from his wallet, and surprised because he genuinely believed you and Haechan have been best friends this whole time. Technically, he isn’t wrong, but you’re not sure if you want to interrupt to tell them that.

Mark whines, “Oh, c’mon! I really thought you guys were just friends.”

“Pay up, loser,” Karina smirks, and with a pout, Mark pulls cash from his pockets.

Haechan looks at you, and while you don’t say anything, you can tell you’re both thinking the exact same thing. The whole campus is about to know you two are dating. Karina’s for sure going to tell everyone she knows, hell, probably even people she doesn’t know, and there’s a ninety-nine point nine percent chance of Jaemin raining your business on everyone in his latest report for the school newspaper.

You can’t say that you care, though. This is what you wanted, to unashamedly love Haechan, to be able to state it proudly in front of everyone, to let everyone know, to claim him as yours and yours only. So fuck Cupid. Fuck his bow, fuck his arrow, because this relationship is all a product of you and Haechan’s hard work and dedication.

Who needs Cupid’s bow when you have tasty lips and Tootsie-Pops?

“You’re telling me you’ve been in love with me for the past four years? Oh, you’re a soldier. I would have given up in the first month.”

You snort. Part of becoming Haechan’s girlfriend is the process of telling one another the secrets you’ve been keeping, such as how long you can been in love. Haechan’s been in love with you for a solid year, he thinks, maybe two, but it’s been almost four years for you, on the other hand.

“If only it were that easy,” you sigh. “Trust me, I tried getting over you by getting under other people—how Jessie Reyez of me—but that didn’t work out, obviously.”

“You are too much like me,” Haechan shakes his head. “What made you think we should anyways?”

“You mean, four years ago, or now?”

Haechan shrugs. “Either. Give me three reasons.”

“Oh, brace yourself. I could do a presentation on this. One, we know each other’s McDonald’s orders. Two, like you said, we’re very alike. When have we ever argued over pizza toppings?” You reason. “Three, I can’t imagine kissing anybody else. I mean, we’ve basically been practicing on each other for the past four years. I’m the reason you can kiss so good, it would insane for you make out with other people. Four, I have a fat ass and sometimes I catch you staring at—”

“I said three reasons!” Haechan cries, face blooming red as a rose.

“I could go for a fifth,” you grin, “we’re both terrible at math.”

“Damn right we are,” he mutters. “But that’s what makes us… us, isn’t it? The only reason we’re dating right now is because we couldn’t resist kissing each other after one time.”

He’s right. It practically only took one kiss to fall in love with Haechan. He’s giving you major Dua Lipa vibes right now.

“I know you’re thinking about that Dua Lipa song right now.”

You smirk. “You know me very well.”

He tilts his head. “And what else are you thinking about?”

“That you look like all I need,” you say in tune, making Haechan laugh. “And I just want to feel your skin on mine.”

“Then we should do something about that, right?” Haechan smirks back.

You’re kissing the smirk right off his lips seconds later, and this is where you decide that you just can’t get enough of him. Even if one kiss is all it takes, you’re greedy for more, and more, and more, until both your lips are swollen and you’re both gasping for air.

[aphroditelovesu]

hey its my first time requesting...

maybe can I request yandere Daemon Targaryen with velaryon or hightower reader

❝ 🐉 — lady l: this is actually quite cute lol. A soft yandere, but Daemon is only soft to the Reader, the rest be burned alive, in his view. Anyway, I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! 💚🖤

❝tw: mention of death, obsessive behavior, family conflicts, fluff and soft!yandere basically.

❝🐉pairing: yandere!daemon targaryen x hightower!female!reader.

Daemon doesn't like the people in your family, the damn Hightower's. He hates them all, especially Otto, your father. He has always made this very clear, never trying to hide the disdain he feels for your family. Daemon just didn't expect to fall in love with a Hightower.

Daemon paid you no attention at first. He thought you were like your father and siblings and he wanted distance from you all. He even tried to fight the feelings that came over him when he saw you, but it soon became useless.

Daemon's constant presence, initially cold and distant, changed around you. His furtive glances became more frequent, his words, once sharp, began to soften. He could no longer ignore the truth that was right in front of his eyes: you were different. Different from Otto, different from your sibilings. And despite all the hatred he felt for the Hightowers, he found himself wanting to be in their presence more and more.

Every time he met you, he felt a growing internal conflict: the deep-rooted hatred towards your family and the irresistible attraction he felt for you. Daemon found himself wanting you, wanting you and not just in a sexual way. He wanted to have you.

Finally, Daemon had to accept that, against all expectations and against his own will, he had fallen in love with you, had become obsessed with you and he was going to have you no matter what. Daemon knew that Otto would never consent to you and him being together but Daemon doesn't give a fuck about your father.

Daemon began to plan. He was not a man who let something so trivial decide what he could or couldn't have. If Otto Hightower was an obstacle, then he would be removed. It didn't matter the cost. Daemon used his cunning and influence to create opportunities for furtive encounters. Every touch, every word whispered in the silence of the night only strengthened his resolve. You also couldn't help but be drawn to his intensity, the danger he represented, and the promise of a passion that burned hotter than anything you had ever known.

You were conflicted as well. Daemon Targaryen was a man you were warned to stay away from, your father and your sister, now the Queen, had told you to stay away from the King's troublesome brother. But you couldn't. Daemon was kind to you, he liked you and you knew you liked him. Maybe you even loved him but you knew your father and sister would never allow it.

The nights became secret meetings, increasingly daring and passionate. Daemon was determined to make sure his love for you wasn't discovered until he wanted it to be revealed, for now, it was fun to be with you in secret. He knew that when the moment came, he would need to be prepared to protect you and the future he envisioned with you. And he would protect you with everything in him.

Every furtive encounter, every whispered conversation in the darkness, every touch that set your body on fire, only increased your dilemma. On the one hand, there was your loyalty to your family, your need to live up to their expectations, and your fear of repercussions. On the other, there was Daemon, with his magnetic presence, his bold words and his protective manner, which made your heart race in a way you had never experienced before.

You tried to keep your distance, and obey your family's warnings, but you always ended up returning to Daemon. He was irresistible, and the way he looked at you, with a mixture of desire and tenderness, made you feel special, seen, and loved. Daemon understood you in a way no one else could, and that was both a blessing and a curse.

Daemon wouldn't let you get away. He didn't care, he wanted you and that's why he went to his brother and asked him for you. Daemon knew that Viserys would agree to the request, after all, he owed him that. Viserys, although distressed at the thought of causing conflict with Alicent and Otto, gave in to his brother's wishes and you were formally granted to you as his wife (after the latter's mysterious death). And you finally officially became his in every way that mattered.

When you finally married him, Daemon became more protective than ever and he displayed you in front of his family like a trophy. He loved you but he loved teasing Otto and Alicent even more. When the conflict between the Greens and the Blacks began, Daemon would keep you tied to him tightly.

After all, you're just another reminder of why he should get rid of all the Greens. Especially because, when you became pregnant in the middle of the conflict, Daemon could not allow any threat to you or the baby in your womb.

[iwasdear]

I'm coming in with another thought about Matsukawa cus he lives in a penthouse in my brain and bro is not moving out any time soon

he did not truely grasp how big his meat was until he lost his virginity

sure he's not dumb he knew it was definitely something but not until he got a girl in bed did he realize his shtick was built different

and lemme say that did more than just inflate his ego, he was a changed man

And doesn't just slang it all willy nilly and expect his size to do all the work, he learned the motion of the ocean and was a certified sex god from that point forward‼

Not just cocky for cockys sake, he promises a good time and sure as hell lays it tf down too😼

On a similar note can I ask how you think all the seijoh 4 first times went? when? how? what do you think?

oh i definitely fuck with this thought, anon. he's not cocky just because he can be cocky, but it's because he knows he can be cocky. matsukawa isn't like those annoying mfs that are cocky because they think they're the shit. he is the shit. after that encounter where he lost his virginity, he became a god and nobody could stop him no more.

now, here is how i think seijoh 4z first time went ( with reader ) ★

oikawa had his first time at a party. since he's very popular, he gets invited to parties often. i feel like he def had no idea as to what the fuck to do, but i mean, you're not bound to knows when it's your first time, right? he was really excited about it, though, and spoiler: he came really fast! we understand, king. hormones are everywhere, there's a rush that's hard to ignore, its a first time sensation, how could he hold back? he had a round two after that because he reached his own high, but reader didn't even get to enjoy theirs, and let me tell you. his second orgasm hit him ten times harder. i know this messed up with his ego so he's been participating in every no nut november like a loser because he says it will help him last longer (it really doesn't).

mattsun had a pretty decent first time with a date, and it went absolutely amazing for both of them. the amount of stamina this guy has is insane. they met on a dating app, both of their profiles specifying that they didn't want anything serious, much rather looking for a quick hook-up. it was then when matsukawa realized his cock was in fact not your average dick. the fact that his huge buddy could make someone cry in pain fascinated him. my guy has morals so he held back so reader could adjust but god was his ego over the roof. ever since then, mattsun proudly carries a weapon between his legs.

makki had his first time in a damn club HANDS DOWN. unlike oikawa, who had the commodity of a (strangers) bed, hanamaki went at it in a bathroom. oh yeah. ngl i feel like he's a sucker for head, so they went with that first! he loved it, btw. lasted quite long but not too long, iykwim. then he proceeded to fuck reader on the sink. some clubs tend to have full body mirrors and my gut is telling this mf had a second round but this time full view on said mirror. the ones above the sink weren't it for him. out of the 4, i personally think makki is the most experienced. he knew what he was doing the moment they walked into that bathroom. if you're wondering, they waited for it to empty out and locked the doors and didn't let anyone in for a good two hours, teehee.

this one may be a little too biased because i love iwaizumi a little too much, and in my eyes, he's a gentleman. unlike the other 3, iwa had his first time with someone he was in a stablished relationship with at the time. it was actually quite romantic and beautiful and SIKE. hajime had his first time in the lockers. stressed from dealing with oikawa and his annoying fangirls, mattsun and makki holding him back from beating the shit out of his best friend, and just built up stress from other things. he was over it. the stablished relationship part is true. he asked reader to meet in the lockers a little earlier than the time practice usually ends because he heard from others (mattsun) that sex was a good stress reliever. by the way, iwaizumi was the last to lose his virginity. the gentleman part was also true because despite being someone who doesn't speak his mind outloud, my man still had the courage to confidently ask reader if they could do the deed right there and then. tbh i feel like he likes his privacy, and i mean, anyone could walk in any second, so they both went with the showers. great experience if you ask him, but he would NOT do it in an open space like that ever again.

© iwasdear | more thoughts are welcome!

[geeky-politics-46]

Kinktober 2023 - Day 5

Caught Masturbating with Tommy Shelby

"Caught In The Act"

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Summary: Tommy has somehow fallen through time & made a new life in the modern day with you. He wants more than friendship & an awkward encounter makes you confront that idea.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - masturbation, voyeurism, sex toys, dirty talk, swearing, pet names, hair pulling, creampie, vaginal sex, very light dom/sub, a little bit of fluff

Tommy wasn't quite sure what to expect when he opened the door to your small apartment and immediately heard the sound of your voice moaning and whimpering. He immediately went to reach for his weapon, suddenly remembering that he was unarmed. He was still getting used to living in this new century and the fact that he no longer had a reason to be armed.

It was all still a mystery as to how he ended up here. He had no idea how he had taken one breath in 1930 and the next in 2023. Neither did you, but that didn't stop you from helping him. Even though to pretty much anyone else, his story made him sound utterly certifiable. Instead of judging or turning and running the other way, you were kind and caring.

He slowly began approaching your bedroom, and the sound of your voice became louder. The closer he got, the clearer it became that your whimpers were not of pain or fear but of pleasure. He had dreamt about hearing you make sounds like that since the moment he first met you. 

You had been so sweet to him since he ended up here. You showed him kindness in a way he was completely unused to. Allowing him to stay in your spare room and helping him learn to navigate the modern world. He had become quite smitten with you, actually. You had given him the chance of a fresh start. A chance he was determined to seize.

You also weren't afraid of him. You would talk back to him and call him on his bullshit. Your modern feminism serving you quite well when mixed with your sharp wit. He hated to admit that it gave him butterflies when you laughed openly in his face about doing some chore he always thought to be 'woman's work'. He knew damn well you wouldn't be serving him anytime soon, and frankly, he found your demeanor refreshing. 

You were also stunningly beautiful. In a way that was all your own. Tommy Shelby was well accustomed to interacting with and even seducing attractive women. He had been married to two beautiful women. Both Grace and Lizzie were enchanting, but you were a creature from another world entirely. 

All of these things had him utterly spellbound by you. He'd be lying if he said he didn't spend his evenings imagining what it would be like to be yours and for you to be his. He had a suspicion that underneath your sweet exterior was a devil waiting to come out at the most intimate times. He wanted to be the one to unleash it.

He often thought about you sneaking in to join him in the shower after you overheard him stroking himself. Picturing you dropping to your knees in front of him. Staring up at him through your eyelashes. Water droplets starting to roll down your body, your nipples pebbled and at attention from the temperature change. Wanting to help take care of him, since you knew that it was because of you that his cock was throbbing.

It was because of all the fantasies he had about you that he kept walking towards your door. Stopping only momentarily when he saw your door was cracked open. Your voice was now crystal clear as you whined and moaned, but now he could also hear a soft buzzing and a wet sound. There was now no doubt in his mind exactly what you were doing. You were masturbating.

His suit pants tightening at just the thought that he was catching you playing with yourself. He really was trying to turn over a new leaf. To be a better, more respectable man than he had been. He knew that peeking through your open door was the wrong thing to do, but he just couldn't help himself. Not when he was still a devil at heart, and you sounded so angelic.

What he saw when he looked through the cracked door was immediately worth any guilt he may have felt. It was by far the most erotic thing he had ever seen in his entire life. You were naked from the waist down with the t-shirt you had slept in rucked up to expose your breasts. Up on your knees with your face turned to the side and your shoulders pressed down into the mattress, your ass up in the air. Your eyes squeezed shut, and your mouth dropped open. Your hair dishelved and a little sweaty. Both of your hands busy between your legs. 

In his time vibrators and other sex toys were uncommon. Really, they were just being invented. So seeing you with a vibrator in one hand pressed to your clit, and a big fake cock in your other hand  greedily ramming it in and out of your tight little hole was nearly enough to have him cumming on the spot. You were taking what you wanted, what you needed, and doing it with zero shame or hesitation.

He could see the dildo glistening with your slick everytime you pulled it out of your cunt. Judging from the ring of white cream around the base of it, you must have already been fucking yourself for a while. His hand was already moving to palm himself over the fabric of his pants. Gripping his length and wishing his cock was that toy stretching your pussy. Biting his lip to keep from groaning and giving away his presence.

All that went out the window, however, when you started to moan again. Clearly getting closer and closer to another orgasm. Your hips thrusting to meet the toy and the wet squelch of your cunt getting louder. As you chased your climax you started to speak. Letting the fantasy in your head spur you closer to cumming. It was what you said that sent Tommy spiraling further into his own lust alongside you.

His name. You said his name.

"Oh fuck, yes Tommy. Right there. Fuck! You feel so good. Need you to make me cum again."

You said his name while you were fucking yourself with your toy. You were imagining your toy was his cock. You wanted him just as badly as he wanted you. No, you said you needed him. Needed, not just wanted him.

He felt his member pulse and leak at your admission. Before he even realized what he was doing, he brought one hand up to rap lightly against your doorframe. Officially announcing his presence before moving to open the door wider. It didn't leave you any less startled by the sudden intrusion at such a private moment. 

He couldn't help the smirk that formed on his face as you scrambled to cover yourself. Pulling your shirt back down to hide your breasts and grabbing at the covers to conceal the mess between your thighs. Quickly trying to stash your toys under your pillow. Not that he couldn't hear the wet suction of your cunt desperately trying to hold onto the dildo as you pulled it out. Or your vibrator still buzzing under the pillow that you were now pretending you didn't hear. Not that you didn't look like you had spent the day fucking yourself silly anyway.

He slowly entered your room. Fully aware of the tent in his pants. Knowing that it gave away the fact that he had been eavesdropping on you. His smirk turned into a grin as he saw you notice his erection. Involuntarily licking your lips. Obviously, still in need of satiating your desires despite your embarrassed blush.

"Tommy, I thought you had gone out. How… how long have you been home? … how long have you been standing at my door?" 

His eyes dropped to the floor momentarily, debating how to answer in a way that wouldn't make you think he was a creep. Even though you both clearly desired the same thing. Now he had discovered that he could give it to you, but only if he played his hand diplomatically. 

"I did go out, but then I came back. Decided that I enjoyed your company far more than anyone else I could have run into. As far as your other questions… I was worried when I came back and heard you moaning. I thought maybe you had fallen, but I was obviously very mistaken. You are definitely not hurt, but you do seem to be in need of help. Help that you seem to want me to offer, and it would be remiss of me not to tell you that I desperately want to provide that help. That I think about you at night and wish I could be in your bed instead of my own. That I daydream about fucking you on every surface of this apartment." 

By now, your mouth had fallen open at his admission. Clearly, you hadn't been expecting him to confess all this. He confidently strode closer to your bed, bringing himself to stand right at the edge of the side where you sat. Your eyes roaming his body before eventually falling back to his bulge before quickly jumping back up to his blue eyes. 

"Now, my beautiful girl, I heard you call out my name before. Pretending that toy that you're hiding was my cock. I'd be surprised if you haven't heard me calling out your name as I fuck my own fist. Pretending I'm fucking your pretty little cunt instead. So I think it's safe to say we both want the same things, but I'll ask anyway. Do you want me like I want you?" 

Tommy moved to sit himself down on the bed in front of you. Bringing one hand up to your cheek and letting his thumb pull lightly on your bottom lip. He could see the lust in your eyes, and you quickly nodded your head. Whispering a soft breathy "yes" that made him smile wider because now he knew he could really have you. 

He brought his other hand to your waist and slowly brought his plush lips to yours. The kiss began soft and tender, but before long, it started to become more heated. Both of you starting to feel the need to finally feel each other grow. 

Tommy carefully lowered you down to lay on the bed. Throwing the covers off of your legs so he could run his hands over the soft flesh of your thighs. One of your hands moving to the longer pieces of his hair and the other starting to toy with the buttons on his crisp white shirt. He still insisted on wearing a suit nearly every day, and you were thankful he had apparently already ditched his waistcoat and jacket before he heard you. 

One by one, you undid the buttons on his shirt. Opening just enough that you could slip your hand inside and feel his bare chest. Your fingers dancing over his dusting of light brown chest hair and the edges of his tattoo. You wanted to rip his clothes off and let him take you. To let him bring your fantasies to life, but you knew that before you lost all sense of self-control, you needed to figure out what exactly this was. So you lightly pushed him back far enough to separate your lips from his. Enough to look into his mesmerizing blue eyes.

"Wait, Tommy, hold on. I'm not the person that just fucks people. I'm not good at the no strings attached thing. If that's what you want this to be then we are better off just finishing this each by ourselves. Pretending neither of us ever saw or said anything."

He chuckled at your statement. Not because it was funny, but in disbelief. Could you really not tell the spell you had him under? Did you really think he would spend so much time thinking about you if he only wanted you for a night?

"Oh no, princess, we do this it means you are mine. It means you are mine, and I am yours. Like I said, I want to fuck you and love you on and against every surface of this apartment. That will take far longer than one night. We do this, there is no getting rid of me." 

With that, he forcefully crashed his lips into yours, desperately trying to convey how badly he truly wanted you. The feeling of your fingernails gripping into his back through his shirt only spurring him on. Like squeezing your heels into the sides of a horse, your actions only making him move faster. 

He reached down to pull your leg up over his hip as he continued to kiss you. Moving down to suck and bite at your neck as he ground his pelvis down against you. Automatically, he could feel the heat from your sex through the fabric of his pants and boxers. Reminding him again of how he had found you. How you were still soaked and ready for him. 

A growl fell from his lips as he bit your neck when the sensation of your slick started to soak through to his cock. Rutting his hips into you harder and pulling the most beautiful gasp from you that turned into a wanton moan. Suddenly any trepidation you had been feeling had fled and your animal urges took over. 

You immediately brought both hands to his shirt and proceeded to rip it open. Sending buttons scattering before shoving it back off of his shoulders so Tommy could discard it. He moved on to his pants just as quickly. Getting the button and zipper undone while he took off his undershirt.

You were just able to shove his pants down to his knees when he pushed you back flat on the bed. Quickly taking off his slacks, leaving him in just his boxers before returning all his attention to you. Slowly dragging his hands up the outsides of your thighs to start pulling your shirt up your body. His eyes studying each new inch of flesh revealed to him.

When your shirt was finally high enough to reveal the treasure hidden between your thighs, you thought Tommy might actually start to drool. You were soaked, and your thighs were messy with your arousal. Your clit was swollen and puffy from your vibrator. Your lips flushed and your hole was still gaping slightly from where you had your dildo buried inside of you. The only thing missing from the picture was the sight of his cum leaking out of you. That would have made it perfect.

"Fucking perfect." 

He whispered under his breath before diving down to pepper your stomach with kisses. Biting at your hip bones and stealing a single taste of your cunt before continuing upward. He knew he would be back with his head between your legs later that night. Right now he couldn't wait to be inside you, but he had to finish getting you naked first.

His lips danced over your soft stomach, and his teeth nipped at your ribcage. Nuzzling his nose at the bottom of your breasts as he started to pull your shirt up over them. Keeping his face close to your skin and reveling in your sweet noises. Adoring every part of your body. Smiling against your skin when you finished pulling your shirt off and threw it to the side. Your body finally completely bare for him.

You were getting impatient with his slow pace. As much as you were enjoying his touch, you had been ready for him to fuck you before he had even entered the room. You tried hard to suppress the needy moans that escaped your lips as he studied every inch of your naked body.

"You are even more beautiful than I fantasized." 

As nice as his compliment felt, you were nearing the end of your rope. You needed to feel him inside you, or else you feared for your sanity.

"You've already got me in bed naked and horny, Thomas. You don't have to lay on the flattery. I'm on the pill so just hurry up and fuck me."

You reached down to grab his erection. Squeezing firmly over the fabric of his boxers before shoving your hand inside to start stroking him. Your whimpers were nearly louder than his as you felt every vein on his length and circled his tip only to find him leaking and wet for you. 

Through staggered breath and the most beautiful groans and growls, he finished his thoughts. His hips started to rut into your hand as pumped his cock perfectly. He mentally thanked the advancements in birth control that he wouldn't have to wait or pull out. Although he always preferred bareback anyway, with both horses and women.

"It's not flattery if it's the truth, and it is the truth. Like I said, I've thought about this. A lot. Now, lay back on the bed for me like a good girl."

You did as he said. Pulling your hand out of his boxers and licking the precum off of your fingertips as you laid yourself out for him. Legs spread and back arched in a sinful tableau just for him. Letting him sit back on his heels and study you for a moment. His eyes devouring every inch of you. 

A cocky smirk on his face, he stared right into your eyes as he pushed his boxer shorts down over his hips. His cock finally free and standing proud. Tommy wasn't sure he had ever actually been this hard before, and it was all because of you. It was all for you. 

You groaned at the sight of his thick cock. It was even bigger than your toy was. Biting your bottom lip and grabbing your own breasts. Toying with your nipples as you thought about how good it was going to feel to finally have his cock inside you after all these months of wanting. 

He didn't break eye contact with you as he gripped his length and gave it a few slow strokes. Using the precum dripping for his flushed red cockhead to prepare himself. Enjoying the feeling of you watching him. Especially now that you knew he spent nearly every night doing just that thinking only of you. 

"Tell me what you want. Tell me what you want me to do. Just like you did with that fake cock of yours." 

Tommy descended on you like a predator caging in its prey. His arms braced on either side of your head. His chest pressed to yours. His cock now shamelessly rubbing against your wet cunt. Sliding up and down against your lips and the ridge of his swollen head teasing your clit. You could hear the wet sounds coming from between you. 

The most desperate noise you ever made pulled from your throat before you could answer. Right before you did exactly what he told you and begged for his cock like you had with your toy. Your eyes pleading for him to finally take you.

"Want your cock inside me, Tommy. Need you to fuck my tight little pussy and make me cum. Want to cum on your cock. Want to feel you cum inside me." 

A growl came from the back of his throat. He was very pleased with how you begged for him. He lowered to nip at your bottom lip. His eyes were nearly black with only a sliver of the normal bright blue remaining. 

"That's a good girl. Normally so nice and sweet and proper, but not in the bedroom, eh? I could get very used to hearing you talk like a slut for me."

He brought one hand to drag down your body. Making sure to stop and tug at your nipple before continuing its path between your bodies. Moving his cock so his fat tip sat right at your opening. 

Slowly starting to push inside of you. With how wet you were, he could almost slip right in. Your warmth engulfing him and making him swear under his breath. No one had ever felt as perfect around him as you did. 

"Oh my God, Tom."

You whined at the stretch of him. Even after spending so much time fucking your toy, Tommy still made you feel delightfully full. His length immediately brushing up against your g-spot that was still swollen from fucking yourself. It felt like he was made for you. His slow shallow thrusts immediately starting to push you towards orgasm, and your moans and whimpers starting to push him towards his.

"Can't believe you were holding this perfect cunt back from me this whole time. Well that's not happening anymore, love. I'm never leaving your pretty little pussy ever again." 

His thrusts started to pick up pace when you greedily nodded and agreed. Pushing his hips into yours with more force as he dropped his head to bite and suck at your neck. One hand coming to dig your nails into his shoulders, and the other was moving to pull at the longer pieces of hair on the top of his head. 

Your own hips starting to roll underneath him to meet his thrusts. The sound of your bare skin slapping together starting to echo around the room with the squelch of your wet cunt as an accent. Both of you already breathing heavily. The realization dawning on both of you as soon as your cunt started squeezing his shaft that this round wasn't going to take very long. Tommy could already feel little spurts of precum dripping from his cock into your cunt each time you contracted around him.

"Oh fuck, darling. I'm so close. Where do you want me to cum? Want me to fill you up princess?"

His declaration made the band start to tighten in your low belly. 

"Fill me up, Tommy. Cum in my pussy, baby. I'm close too. Keep talking to me. You're gonna make me cum." 

An evil smirk on his face as he gave up, trying to hold anything back. His hips starting to piston into you. The headboard of your bed beginning to bang against the wall as Tommy began pounding into you. His intense blue eyes locked with yours and his nose nuzzling against you as he spoke. Urging you on.

"That's it, love. Don't hold back. Let go for me. Fuck, you feel so incredible. Thought about this every night and it's even better than I could have imagined. Feel like this cunt was made for me. Is this my cunt? Cum on my cock and prove it to me, love. Cum for me." 

All it took was his order to send you over the edge. Your back arching and a ragged moan pulled from your chest as your body began to shudder. The feel of you cumming allowing Tommy to finally let go. His last few thrusts becoming sloppy as he followed your lead into orgasmic bliss. The feeling of him shooting his warm load inside your cunt prolonging your own orgasm.

After a moment to catch your breath, Tommy leaned down to place another kiss on your lips. Less heated and hurried but no less passionate. Then he slowly pulled out of you and rolled to the side. Urging you to lift your head so he could thread one around underneath and wrap it around your shoulder. Wanting to hold you close but not wanting to smother you. 

When Tommy finally broke the silence, it startled you a little. Part of you had still expected him to just get up and leave. You certainly weren't expecting him to say what he did. 

"Thank you."

You couldn't help the guffaw that came from your body. Quickly elaborating before he got the wrong idea from your reaction.

"For what, fucking you?"

Luckily, he seemed to find your response funny and gave a chuckle of his own before he elaborated. His voice getting softer as he let down his armor, something he had rarely done before, and let you inside. Rolling over to face you and wrapping one atm around your middle to pull you closer to him. His aquamarine eyes were bright and clear as he looked deeply into your eyes.

"For everything. So technically yes, thank you for fucking me, but more than that thank you for everything else you've done for me. For letting me stay here despite having no idea where I was or how I got here. For trusting me when I know others told you not to. For teaching me how to navigate this world. For giving me a chance. For all of it. Thank you." 

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

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[afroditisworld]

Salvatore

Spencer Reid x female!Reader

minors dni

Warnings : smut without a plot :)) reader is in her 20s praise kink and hands kink, oral (female received), switch Spencer, use of pet named (good girl, love, baby, brat, sweet) if you are not into that please do not read.

word count : 3k

Dating Spencer was never a plan. But here you were, falling for him more and more each day. He was not someone you expected to fall in love with; you didn't usually go for guys like him. But he had something that made you feel safe and understood at the same time. He was different from anyone you had ever dated before, which made him so special to you. You were younger than him, and you sometimes worried that you weren't what he needed in his life. But Spencer was always there to remind you that you were his safe person.

You didn't have always much time to spend together because of his work and your studies, but whenever that happened, it felt like time stood still and you were the only two people in the world. You went out for coffee or a date in a library, trying to find books for each other, and when you just wanted to relax, you would just lay on the sofa and read books.

Tonight was like this, with you two being too tired to go out but wanting to spend time together. He was at his desk, studying something for his new case. He had promised you that it wouldn't take long, but half an hour became one and then two, and you started getting bored. You didn't want to bother him, but your boyfriend was looking so damn good doing what he was good at, and you couldn't stop staring at him. His focused expression and the way his brow furrowed in concentration were oddly attractive to you. You wish he was more focused on you; however, you were afraid to ask for his attention.

You couldn't quit thinking about how beautiful his hands were. You loved how his fingers moved with precision and grace, making you feel an odd mixture of admiration and desire. The longer you watched him, the more you imagined him touching you. You couldn't stop thinking about his hands running down your body till they landed on the band of your pyjama shorts. Spencer knew it he wasn't naive. He noticed how you would stare at his hands and bite your lips. He saw how your gaze remained fixed on them while he was reading, or how you would simply stare at them when you assumed he wasn't paying attention.

"Spence, I... I just," You couldn't admit your desire for his hands; you were only hoping he wouldn't see through your frozen expression.

"Are you feeling okay?" He asked. He sounded so calm, as if he hadn't caught you staring at his hands, and wishing he was doing something other than work.

"Yeah…why wouldn't I be?" You replied and gave him a forced and awkward smile, hoping he wouldn't ask anything more. The tension between you two was clear, but you attempted to hide it.

"Well, first of all, your face is kind of red, you were zooming out, and you were also staring at my hands." He spoke without breaking eye contact.

"I-I'm not staring," you responded quickly, attempting to explain yourself, but your stutter made you seem more guilty.

You could stop thinking how long have you been staring at his hands? What if he thought it was weird? What if you make him uncomfortable?

You hadn't dated Spencer for a while, and he didn't know all of your likes, so you were afraid to tell him.

When you finally mumbled, "I-I just... um, I really like your hands," you could feel the heat rising on your face. Spencer's face softened, a tiny smile spreading across his lips. "Well, in that case, I'll have to make sure to use them to hold yours more often," he said making you blush even more.

"Are you done with your work?" you asked eagerly, hoping to attract his attention.

With an innocent smile, Spencer shook his head and chuckled. "I have a few more things to finish up before I'm done," he said, noticing your disappointed look. "But I can come there and sit with you while I work if you'd like." You blushed again and nodded quickly, letting him know how much you wanted to touch you.

Your heart skipped a beat at Spencer's offer. You could feel his warmth and comfort spreading over you as he placed himself next to you. You looked at him, and you asked softly, "Can I lay with my head on your thigh?"

He nodded, and as your head rested on his leg, one of his hands played with your hair. You looked up to him with doe eyes and made yourself comfortable. Spencer's gentle touch and the way he stroked his fingers through your hair left you feeling desperate. Spencer's hand discovered your sweet place, and you let out a sweet groan. His touch caused shivers down your spine. You knew he was teasing you, so you placed your hand on his thigh and massaged small circles.

Your hands moved higher, attempting to reach the spot you desired the most. Spencer's breath caught as your hand came closer to where you wanted it, but it didn't get far. He grasped your wrist, and you glanced up at him innocently.

"Don't tease me, Y/N." You could see the desire in his eyes, which just increased yours. With a devilish smirk, you asked, "Who said I was teasing?" You felt like your entire body was on fire. You wanted him to touch, feel, and kiss you. He was so close and yet so far away; you weren't sure what got into you, whether it was his hands and how they made you feel or the way he played with your hair.

He looked down at you, smirking, and said, "Don't you want to be my good girl, Y/N?" His voice was deep but lovely, and it sent shivers down your spine. Your breath caught in your throat, and you nodded before even trying to process what he said.

"So don't tease me, love, and let me finish my job," he replied, releasing your wrist. But you weren't expecting this response, so you got up from his thighs . As you struggled to process his words, you felt a rush of eagerness and nervousness wash over you. You couldn't resist the anticipation of his domination, but you didn't want to wait.

"I don't want to wait," you said as you tilted your head. His eyes darkened, and he raised his eyebrows. "Impatient, are we?" he replied with a smirk, his hand trailing up your arm, leaving a small kiss on your shoulder. "I like that in you," he added before pulling you up to his lap. He left the file on the small table that was beside the sofa, and then his hands touched your waist.

He cupped the side of your face with one of his hands. "My girl's so needy that she can't even wait five more minutes," he said, and you bit your lips. His touch sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but lean into his hand. "I can't help it when you're around," you whispered, feeling his grip tighten slightly in response. He leaned in, pressing his lips against yours, and you melted into the kiss, feeling a rush of warmth run through your body. His touch was intoxicating, and you knew you'd never want to be anywhere else than in his arms. Your hands slid up his thighs to the button on his jeans as soon as he pulled back. He sighed and dropped his head back as you unbuttoned his jeans. You were so eager that you almost didn't recognise yourself.

Before you could even remove his trousers, he stopped you with his hand on your wrist.

"Not so fast," he whispered, kissing you again. Spencer changed your position within a minute.

Now you were sitting on the sofa with your legs open and Spence on his knees between them. His hands moved gently over your body, making you feel warm with excitement. His intense gaze at you caused your heart to rush even quicker.

He was now staring up at you with an eager grin. Spencer's hands moved from your waist to your thighs before touching your pyjama shorts. With your help, he carefully slipped them down, exposing more of your skin to his desperate gaze. The air between you cracked with longing; you couldn't wait any longer; you needed him to touch and feel you. He was so close, you could feel his breath on your sensitive core. He hadn't even touched you down there, but you knew you were wet; you could feel the frustration running through your body.

"Please, Spencer," you asked. You had no idea what you were begging for, but you were willing to accept whatever he offered you. He wet his lips and used his hands to remove your panties. You stared down at him and realised that even though he was on his knees, he had complete control, which he proved as soon as his hands reached your clit.

Spencer teased you more, wanting to hear the sounds you made as a reaction to the pleasure he gave you. You bit your lips and pushed your hips towards him, aching to feel more.

"Patient," he replied without breaking his sight from you. He looked at you with lust and need, but he refused to touch you unless you begged him to. You knew Spencer would always make the wait worthwhile.

“Please, Spencer just- do anything, please I need- Ah.” you didn't have the time to complete your sentence and Spencer's mouth was now on your clit. He always knew how to please you, especially when he would eat you out. He was a man with an eidetic memory after all, of course he knew your body better than you.

“You’re such a t-tease Spence” you whined. He looked up at you with his gorgeous eyes and a smirk and before you knew it his fingers were inside of you. You were so wet already that his fingers could easily slip inside you. He didn’t take his eyes off of you, he couldn’t and the truth was that he didn’t want to. It was one of his favourite things to do, watching you fall apart just because of his fingers and mouth.

“P-please” you managed to say again.

“Begging is a good look for you, darling but I’m sure you don’t know what you are begging for, do you ?” he said with a grin.

“Don’t stop Spencer” you cried out.

Spencer was eating you out like a man starved. The fingering and eating duo was phenomenal and he knew that. He was practically making out with your clit.

When he pulled his fingers out you cried out feeling so empty, but immediately Spencer spread your pussy lips with his fingers as he pressed his tongue inside of you. Your back arched and a sinful moan left your lips. Your legs started shaking and you could feel yourself getting closer as you tried to close your thighs together. Spencer understood that and with his hand placed one of your legs on his shoulder.

“You want to come Y/N? ” he asked hot breath hitting your core and sending shivers through your spine.

“God-yes” you moaned as Spencer’s lips touched you again, you felt your clit pulsing and twitching in his mouth with his fingers once again inside you.

“Then cum to my fingers Y/N” Spencer whispered as your pussy squeezed rhythmically around his fingers finding your climax. You closed your eyes and your head fell back as you tried to catch your breath.

Spencer started leaving wet kisses on your thighs and when you finally opened your eyes and looked at him he said “I want you to ride me. Can you do that pretty girl?” he asked. You just nodded eager to please him.

When he placed himself next to you he helped you climb on him.

Spencer’s hands moved tightly around your waist, when he tried to place you on his thighs, sending goosebumps to your whole body. Your hand fell to the zipper of his jeans unzipping it as fast as you could. You could finally see how hard he was. You looked at him biting your lips so innocently, his eyes never looked away watching every move you made.

“Eating me out really does make you hard,” you whispered in his ear and smirked. His eyes darkened as he pulled you by your hair lightly to make you look at him.

“You’re in no position to tease baby, remember that.” He grunted softly “You were the one who was begging asking to be touched.” you blushed and tried to look away. “So if you want to cum I suggest to stop being a brat.”

Spencer always was talkative during sex but now he was being mean and bold.

“S-sorry” you managed to say.

With Spencer’s help, you remove his jeans and boxer his hard dick was licking with pre-cum as it hit his flat stomach.

You decided to tease him some more jerking his length with your palm as you go for a kiss, moans dying in your mouth.

“Just- Just ride me already” Spencer groaned you grinned at him before you opened your mouth and said, “And I thought I was the needy one”. His hands were now gripping your thighs trying to guide you on top of him and without any warning he slipped inside you. You were already wet because of your previous orgasm but Spencer was big and you could still feel the way he was stretching you out.

“Always so tight,” he breathed out. Spencer didn’t move he didn’t know just how badly you ached for him, so he waited to adjust to him. Your hands were resting on his chest, you were trying your best not to fall apart and collapse on him. As you sank down on him he knew he should help you but he loved watching you struggle. So you decided to take matters into your own hands, as you started straddling him. You opened slightly your mouth and a small cry left your lips. Your head fell back and you started moving. With every rise of your hips and bounce of your ass against him you were taking him deeper.

“P-please” Words were coiled at your throat, coming out as broken sobs, wishing for more but you were starting to get tired of doing all the work.

“If you want something, you have to use your words, babe” Spencer hissed. You tried to move faster but your legs were giving up on you. Spencer could feel the way your warm walls throbbed around him, but he also noticed how your pace slowed down.

“Can’t you handle it, baby?” He whispered in your ear leaving a wet kiss there.

“I can-fuck, I can handle it.” You were I mess, your lips were trembling and Spencer couldn't take his eyes off of you. Thrusting yourself up and down along his cock was causing your boobs to bounce in front of him begging him for his attention. And the next thing you know is that his mouth scatters wet kisses all over your boobs.

“Go faster,” he said plainly with a bit of a whine.

“I can't, too m-much Spence” you whined as you kept riding him.

“Oh you want my h-help” he managed to breathe out. You couldn't say anything your mind was far gone for a while now and the only thing that you could do was nod your head.

“Use your words, baby, you are a smart girl, Right” he teased you. He always knew what to say to make your walls throb around him.

“Pl-please help me” you stuttered.

“Help you with what baby, come on,” he said as he let his hands fall on your ass.

“Cum” you whined. You didn't have to ask him twice as he started helping you with your movement. Your hips were now slamming up too recklessly giving you exactly what you asked for.

“Faster—ah shit—“ you were a hot mess, but believe me Spencer loved the view.

“I'm sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making” he grinned at you teasingly. His fingers sank into the smooth fat, forcing your movements to speed up, and you're mewing, pleading with him to give you more, more, more.

Spencer was hitting that one spot and your eyesight was beginning to blur. He moaned loudly and bucked his hips up into you.

“Feels so good S-Spencer” you cried out. You started getting louder with watery eyes as you got closer to your orgasm, that was the signature of him to go faster. You could feel him pulsing inside you since he was getting closer as well. He placed his hand on your throat making you come closer to kiss you. Your eyes fell on his hands his veins were popping out and you couldn't take your eyes off of them.

“S-so pretty” you mewed before he kissed you. But you were struggling to kiss him back as he was fucking you so good.

“I-fuck S-Spence I’m g-gonna cum” you said.

“C-cum for me sweet” he stuttered softly while he was getting closer with every movement.

“So good…you’re doing so good, such a good girl for me,” he praised, suddenly overwhelmed by the pleasure your pussy had given him.

His praises practically take you over the edge, forcing you to lean forward and put your arms on his shoulders to hold yourself from falling on him while continuing to ride out your orgasm.

“Y/N” Spencer moaned “I’m cumming, don’t stop, please. Don’t stop” You always loved how he would beg as he was getting closer.

“Beg,” you said as you pulled his hair feeling more in control now as you keep riding him.

“Don’t…nghh- don’t be a brat” he groaned as he came inside you filling you up with his cums.

Spencer needed some time to catch his breath and calm down from his climax before he tried to help you stand up. But you shocked your head.

“I want to be close to you, please” you begged.

“You know actually the chances of-mphh” he started saying but you cut him off by kissing him.

“You know I don’t mind,” you said as you tried to stand up “But if it makes you uncomfortable I can always go clean up” you continued but before you could even get off of him he pushed back at him.

“N-no stay” he murmured. You nodded at him with a little smile and rested your head on his shoulder as he started talking about a new poem that he read.

Spencer maybe made you wait but he always fucked you like a gentleman.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

reblogs are always appreciated !

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dying by the hand of a foreign man, happily

[hxnbi]

「 BEING THEIR SIBLING 」

synopsis: you were his beloved sibling, meant to stay far out of harms way, he would make damn sure of it

— characters: itadori yuji, fushiguro megumi — contents: fluff, angst, comfort, platonic, gn reader

gojo version | masterlist

ITADORI YUJI ✿ child reader

With all that Yuji has been through in his life, he, of course, feels a sense of responsibility and duty for the well-being of his family, blood-related or not. 

Still at the age where letters in math could only be dreamt of in nightmares, Yuji found himself being the one to take care of you. And when his grandpa died, he was left, now alone, holding the bag.

Or so he thought. 

You held onto his hand that day when he found out, a sombre look in your eyes. 

Thats right… How could he be so selfish? He still had you. 

He's very much a family guy, and he holds his family closest to his heart. And when he was told about you—getting to keep you in his arms in the hospital—he knew what his duty was. As his baby sibling, Yuji did everything and anything to ensure that you were protected and cared for.

Yuji's mouth dropped. "Crap…"

"Huh? What are you yapping about now?" Megumi scowled.

"I need to pick up [Y/n] from daycare!" he panicked, pacing back and forth. But it wasn't like he could suddenly leave, not like this spiky-haired individual staring daggers into him would let him… Well, not voluntarily, that is.

Megumi sighed, and he pulled out his phone. "I'm on it."

"What… are you doing?"

"Making a call. We'll have a trusted individual pick up your sibling."

"...I-I see."

Megumi looked at Yuji, who nodded. "Don't worry. They'll be out of harm's way."

That was all Yuji ever wanted.

But when everything in his life came to a head and he became the vessel of Ryomen Sukuna, the king of curses, your safety could no longer be guaranteed… not while Sukuna was still around, or rather, inside him. 

Still, you loved being around him, and Yuji loved being around you. When everything was said and done, all of Yuji's worries about this sudden move to Tokyo went much better than expected.

As a young child, you were naive, but that may as well be thrown out the window because Yuji didn't give two shits about that. And just like Yuji, you were energetic, outgoing, and eager to see the new "world" you were in. You two were like two birds that flock together, for better or for worse. 

The Tokyo students—mainly the infamously noisy ones Nobara and Panda while Maki, Megumi, and Toge watched—would pop in from time to time in his room, only to see you sleeping on Yuji's shoulder. At the same time, Yuji had a book in hand, previously to read to you but now used to block the sun from dancing on your face.

And a mystery to nearly everyone, even Yaga, the revered and arguably intimating headmaster—with a stare enough to make any child under the age of 5 cry—couldn't resist your charm. Your influence permeated every corner of Tokyo Jujutsu High until you were affectionately dubbed the school's unofficial mascot, much to your brother's horror.

And when Yuji went on missions or on days when the students had to train and go to classes, arguably the most responsible adult, Nanami Kento, was given the babysitter title of Yuji's sibling.

The others—that being Nobara, Gojo, and Panda; Megumi, Maki, and Toge would only watch with deadpan expressions—could only speculate on the origin of Yuji's surprising skills at cooking, but after doing some stalking investigating, and seeing you and Yuji in the itches together, teaching you how to cook, their hearts couldn't take it. That day, dozens of pictures were snapped and then plastered in Yuji's room. 

Yuji would hold you in his arms, providing comfort and a safe haven. He was an older brother figure who would do anything and everything to protect his younger sibling, even if it meant hiding things from you. He carried all the weight, all the burdens, on his own in hopes of shielding you from the harsh realities of their world. One of Yuji's defining traits is his willingness to sacrifice himself for others, triggered by his grandfather's last words to him.

No way in hell could he ever let that happen again—not to you, who had such a long life ahead of you, not to anyone. Yuji would always joke around with you and have fun, protecting that youth he cherished with his soul. 

You were just a kid, after all. You were just a kid when he died.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI ✿ older sibling reader

Unlike Yuji, Megumi would be the complete opposite.

As the oldest Fushiguro sibling, naturally, you took up the responsibility of caring for Megumi and Tsumiki. You were yet another child, the byproduct of Toji's fickle nature. You, Megumi, and Tsumiki were all from different mothers. God forbid there be another secret child you three haven't heard about yet. Still, the three of you couldn't have been more tightly knit. Megumi would beg to differ, only to have a chocolate milk carton thrown his way by Tsumiki. What a magical household of violence. 

When he was younger, Megumi struggled, or rather, embraced his unruly bursts of temper, often resulting in scuffles with middle schoolers. He would probably be considered a problem child if it weren't for his straight A's. But that didn't matter to you, and you ensured you knew that.

Your swift reprimands would quash any budding notions of so-called "gang activity," cautioning him against a future as a "mafia leader." Needless to say, he wasn't impressed.

Regardless, he listened—much to the jaw-dropping shock of anyone, especially those whom Megumi had previously beaten up. 

Your genuine concern for him—not about what he did but about him—made him angry.

He hated it, and yet he craved it. 

You'd always urge him to take a breather and relax, all the while as the pile of beaten-up "gangsters" groaned in pain and agony. But that wasn't your concern. Occasionally, during those moments with a fuming teenager at your side, you'd treat him to meals out whenever you managed to steal a moment from your busy workday. Everything you did was for his well-being, regardless of the stress you were putting on your own shoulders. Because in your mind, your little brother didn't deserve all that he went through, and as mature as he was for his age, he still deserved to be a kid.

No one should be able to take away youth from children.

As a kid, he needed that sort of stability in his life. After enduring so much, simply having someone beside him meant everything to him.

And you did so in a way where you took on a mother-like figure in his life. Everything you did and every action you took was driven by your love and care for him and Tsumiki. 

Even as a young third grader, Megumi keenly felt burdened by this fact—the weight of this responsibility, especially following his family's departure, Tsumiki's subsequent accident and being crippled and left in a coma in the hospital. Every first day of the month became a ritual for you and Megumi, visiting Tsumiki's bedside with a bouquet of flowers. 

And during the days when nightmares haunted your sleep, Megumi would be woken up to you crying. 

Neither would ever go on to utter a word about that.

Your absolute worst fear was for him to be injured or worse—to lose him to the dangerous path he might tread—and Megumi didn't have to be a genius to know what you were referring to. 

In your eyes, you wanted to take him and Tsumiki away from the messiness of Jujutsu and the Zenin clan and live a peaceful life. From all the times that Megumi would see you sacrificing your own happiness for the sake of others, he knew your heart's desire.

But when that scheming man—Gojo Satoru—presented Megumi with a deal, promising a brighter future for Tsumiki and you, Megumi knew it was his turn to repay you for all you had done for him.

He wasn't sure if you would accept it, but he had to try.

"...Huh?"

Little did he know, you had expected it.

"You don't need to say anything else. I understand."

You smiled softly, continuing to make dinner as Megumi stood there, lost in thought.

"Whatever choice you make is up to you. This is your life," you said gently, turning to face him. "And I trust you to make the best decision for yourself and Tsumiki. After all, what sibling would I be if I didn't trust my own brother?" you laughed. 

Megumi met your gaze. The stiffness in his shoulders eased as he took in your words and that smile of yours…

Your support meant the world to him.

"Thank you," he whispered, and you only smiled in response.

"Now!" you clapped. "Enough of that sappy stuff. Would you like to help me out with dinner?"

With a smile of his own, he nodded, "Of course," and made his way to the kitchen to lend a hand.

Yeah... this was what he was looking for. It was what filled the void he had been feeling.

With your acceptance, he felt more confident in accepting whatever was ahead of him. It didn't matter what happened to him. His own fate became inconsequential; his sole focus was on protecting you and his sister, Tsumiki.

You respected his choice—you always did—and that was why he cherished you so much. 

You, his older sibling.

There was always an aura of maturity around Megumi, his friends thought (and surprisingly selfless, but they would never admit that to his face). Unbeknownst to them, it was all because of how he had to take care of himself after all the adult figures in his life left him, except for one person. His older sibling of 7 years, you.

He felt a sense of responsibility. He owed it to you after all that you've done. He wanted to prove to you that all your efforts to raise him weren't for naught. 

All those nights when you thought Tsumiki and Megumi were asleep and would then cry yourself to sleep, or days when you would come back from work with a couple of injuries, or even the day when you came home with a bruise on your cheek…

He wanted to prove to you—that he could protect you, his family.

And then you could take a break and leave the rest to him.

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

[asthedeathoflight]

I do think 70s devils minion adds a whole layer to Daniel and Armand's relationship that we're not really taking into account enough bc while it does kind of technically happen in canon (that they break up and then get back together) we never actually get to SEE them when they're back together and so its not really taken into consideration for their dynamic.

But like Armand is someone who has for his entire life been another person's possession, who has defined himself as a person that people Have instead of Love. And what the Queen of the Damned chapter shows is Daniel Molloy as someone who Armand wanted to possess and who wanted to be possessed by Armand. Armand has never owned anything in his entire 500 year life and so he NEEDS to own Daniel, he needs to have just this ONE THING to himself after all this time. And Daniel for his part is very into being so consumed by another person. For a time, Daniel is exactly what Armand needs. Here is a person who cannot hurt him, who wants to belong to him, who he can finally assert authority over and in doing so assert his own independence. Nobody in Armand's life has ever been truly HIS in the way that Daniel is.

But the longer theyre together the less urgent the need to possess and control is, and the more Armand is able to love Daniel selflessly, the more they come into conflict because Daniel still WANTS that level of obsession. Their breakup in the books is inevitable because their relationship was built on impulses that, while important stages in their growth, over time became unhealthy. Daniel needs to get out of his cycle of addiction and Armand needs to grow past needing to possess people to believing they'll stay of their own free will. So they need to break up.

BUT unlike in the books where Armand's resolve ultimately fails him and he turns Daniel anyways, cementing the both of them into both of their unhealthiest habits, show Armand manages to work through his issues to the next stage of his growth: that he needs to let Daniel go. And he does! He lets Daniel go and he bears the burden of their relationship alone for 50 years so that Daniel could not only have a human life but also develop as a person in a way he never could have if he stayed with Armand. Show Daniel is a different man from 70s/book Daniel. He knows who he is. Even though he's falling back into old patterns now that he's a vampire he's still been through this cycle a few times and hes stronger now than he would have been if he was turned when he was 30.

I think, assuming devils minion did happen in the 70s, the present Daniel/Armand dynamic will be different from what we're expecting because they've finally grown enough as people so that they can come together on equal footing which is really important bc Armand has never been someone's equal in a relationship before! This is new territory for him! So I think their relationship has potential for development of both of them as characters to places they never got to go in the books. Please note that this is NOT me saying they will have a perfectly well adjusted healthy relationship I just think that this is the next step past their old dynamic and probably will be more dangerous for other people than it is for them which is always a win.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Them saying someone elses name during sex TW: AFAB Reader, 18+ MDNI, ANGST

Adam

You knew that sleeping with Adam was a risk, yet you were so in love with the man that you didn't dare refuse the offer.

His dick was divine, and the way he worshiped your body was even better.

However, you never realized that he paid such special attention to you and your needs in bed because of how much you resembled Eve.

You weren't her carbon copy by no means, but your pussy, smell, and voice were a damn close match for Adam.

As he was balls deep in you, pounding you relentlessly, it's when it happened.

A soft whine left your throat at how good he was kissing your cervix with his angry red tip when the faint 'Yes, Eve...I know you like it...' was heard.

He hadn't caught what he had said, yet you heard it clear as day, and your world shattered.

All the nights, he slept with you, not because he loved you how you loved him, but because he was trying to have a moment with Eve that he would never have again.

The following day you tried to talk about it with him, tears stained your eyes, and you shook from the sobs as he coldly reminded you that you were only a fuck, nothing more.

Your nightly visits became less and less, the ones you did have he unashamedly would moan out for Eve while he fucked you.

Eventually, you were just another woman, a notch in his bedpost as he looked for the next replacement for Eve.

Alastor

You knew all sexual interactions with him were just for steam release and nothing more. Alastor was Asexual and only seemed to seek you out for a quick get it out of my system moment.

You wouldn't lie that you felt special; he always chose you, excitement coursing through your veins when he was a little snappier and colder to others, signaling his time of need.

However, you never expected to have your whole world flipped upside down as he fucked you one night.

He had your knees to your chest as he rammed into you, making you scream and cry in blissful pain.

He was larger than any man you had been with, and this was what you craved for months that no sex worker or toy could do for you.

Yet when the words 'Oh fuck Liz, just like that' left his lips, you froze, your whole body clamming up.

He quickly realized his mistake, the walls he let down around you, and the session ended.

For weeks, you two never talked about anything that happened, and you wallowed in limbo.

You knew sex for him was just a release, yet you wouldn't lie. You fantasized about being romantic with him. Maybe that is why another woman's name from his lips hurt so badly.

When his next need arose, he called on you again, but things were awkward; he was stiff and just working you to get his own pleasure, and you were well there.

You tried to talk about what happened after he had his fill, yet he shut you out and asked you to leave, or else this would never happen again.

Lucifer

You witnessed the day Lilith left Lucifer and Charlie. It was horrible and painful, to say the least. As the one to pick up the pieces, you also became the best friend who fell in love with him.

You kept your feelings to yourself, knowing he needed time to heal and process what Lilith had done to him and his child.

However, when Charlie invited you to the hotel, it was a grand occasion and allowed you space from Lucifer so you wouldn't breach that boundary.

Only half a year after joining the hotel, he looked like a different man. He was no longer depressed and obsessed with ducks, and he was so much more handsome.

It didn't take long for the looks and touches to escalate to you riding his cock in the luxury bed that he conjured in the new hotel.

The battle, having almost taken your life, led you to believe Lucifer realized how much he loved you for what you did for him and Charlie.

However, as you moaned out again when the tip of his white cock brushed your G spot, you heard his moan too.

He grunted deeply, his hands holding your hips. 'Fuck Lilith, ride me so good, baby'

Quickly, you hopped off of him, and like lightning struck, Lucifer realized what had happened. Apologies after the apology had left his lips, but nothing mattered to you.

You avoided Lucifer like the plague; eventually, the whole hotel noticed. Even though he was heartbroken to lose his friend, he couldn't deny his love for Lilith.

It could have been more productive when Charlie finally convinced you two to sit down and talk. It was only filled with you asking why he would sleep with you, knowing you cared for him, and him simply sitting in guilty silence.

Not too long after, you left the hotel and were never heard from again as you reclused to avoid the sting of always being the other woman.

Husk

It was hard to get in Husk's bed, and he wouldn't deny that he had some underlying feelings for you. He also knew you; you were as hopelessly in love with him as he was with someone else.

He hated using you, but he convinced himself he could be a better man and make himself love you and care for you.

He treated your body right each night he brought you to his bedroom, from sensual make-outs to hours between your thighs.

However, as the rouse continued, he almost convinced himself he finally began to love you how you loved him, yet he was dead wrong.

You were on your hands and knees before him, back arched beautifully, and your moans muffled by the soft pillows.

When it happened, you were begging so nicely for more of him to be filled to the brim with his kits.

As he came deep inside your gummy walls, he let out, "Fuck, Angel feels so good in you," and your high was quickly erased.

Husk realized immediately, even while drunk, what had happened. Sorry's, and let me explain, left his mouth as you looked at him and yourself with disgust.

You know the two had a thing for one another, but due to their contracts, they were separated. A pitiful laugh left your mouth as you gathered your clothes and did the walk of shame.

As you made it back to your room in the hotel, you saw Angel, and though you cared for the sex worker, you couldn't help the venom that left your voice when he asked what had happened to you.

You just hope when the two finally fuck, Husk remembers what he did to you and hurts as badly as he hurt you.

Vox

Vox was a man of carnal pleasure, and he was known to get around; his only consistent sex partner was Val, but when things went south between them, it was rough.

You happened to stumble into the world of the Vees around that time, and Vox took a special interest in you and what you could offer.

At first, for you, the sex was transactional, your safety and protection for the price of being dicked down by the overlord of cyber security.

However, it grew to be more over the years, and you wanted it to be more than just a quick fuck or a rough session.

When you propositioned a more sensual night, Vox relented, seeing as it had been years of using you for his pleasure, and he was sure he would be fine.

However, as the night progressed and he languidly slid in and out of your frothy tight hole, he began to lose himself.

As you came over and over from his hands and cock you couldn't help but feel something was off with Vox; he usually was aggressive, and even though you asked for something more sensual, you figured he would cave by now.

However when you looked over your shoulder and saw the blue 'Fuck I miss you Val' screen on his face you felt your whole mood shift.

He wanted Val and always had; you were just the convenient dumb fuck that appeared right when he needed you.

Vox doesn't remember most of that night or when you became so cold about having sex with him. You went from excited to barely caring.

He also had no idea what possessed you to suddenly seek out Valentino's or Velvette's beds. He was shocked that you willingly stopped being his personal toy so blatantly.

It hurt him, but he would never know how badly he had hurt you.

Prompt assistance: @literallurker

[erwinsmithsmissingleftarm]

How long aot men last during the No Nut November

Including: Levi, Erwin, Jean, Eren, Armin & Reiner

Cw: mention of dub-con for Levi's part

Levi:

Doesn't give a fuck about the challenge, it's not true that he will restrict himself from fucking his girlfriend. At the second you ask him about the No Nut November challenge, he will grab you and bend you over the table.

"I don't give a damn fuck about this challenge! I was virgin for years so it's not true that I will do that again."

He will make you fail with him, fucking you like a wild beast at the very first day of the challenge. I mean... did you really expected Levi to get into such a useless and stupid challenge? Levi isn't ashamed to say that he didn't even try to last a single day. He even finds it funny seeing his friends struggling to keep going. And to be even more stubborn, he will do the exact opposite of the challenge by trying to fuck you every day for a whole month. Hope you have the stamina darling!

Erwin:

Will probably be able to last  all month (which is obviously longer than you). The only thing that can make him fail is actually... you. You just have to beg him to fuck you and man, he will lose it. He could have keep going without sex for longer but he can't see his little girl all needy for him.

"Are you sure? I thought you wanted to accomplish the challenge. Well, I give up if you give up."

Will proceed to grab you and throw you into the bed before crawling between your legs and undressing you both. Strong arms spreading your legs as you let out a moan when your two bodies connect together. So many days without this feeling of pleasure... you deserve it.

Jean:

Even with his big ass ego, he can just last for one week. Jean was sure that he could win the challenge without any efforts but... he learned at this moment that you were too much tempting. Always wearing those little skirts or shorts that let him see everything every time you bend to grab something or the too revealing neckline that showed a little piece of the fabric of your bra.

"Fuck, how can I accomplish the challenge if you don't stop teasing me?"

Will be a bit self-ashamed when he will wake up one morning naked in the bed beside you. Dammit, he had a good start but you managed to win against him. Jean will be a bit disappointed at the beginning but finally he will tell himself that the challenge is stupid anyway and that fucking you is way better.

Eren:

Four to five days is the longer Eren can last. It started well but quickly became difficult for him. This man is love-sick with you and you guys got habits that are difficult to destroy. That's why on the 4th day the sexual frustration started to be feel by both of you.

"God damn, why can't I stop fantazing about you?"

You both say that at the same time before starting to laugh. There is no embarrassment between you two since a long time so you just both gave up at the same time before having an intense seance on the kitchen table. What's better than having sex with your lover? That feeling of ectasy can't be replaced by anything else in the world.

Armin:

Armin is such a sweet boy that he didn't even know what's the No Nut November challenge. Once explained to him, he turned red and quietly nodded, telling you that he will accomplish it. But about 3 weeks after, you caught him right during his jerking off seance. Oh god, poor boy was so embarrassed and ashamed of himself.

"I-I'm sorry! I just had a... thought and it just... kinda happened."

Please, reassure him and tell him that it is okay or he will feel bad forever. Armin was truly sure that you will be mad at him but call him a good boy and praise him. Let me remind you that this baby is into mommy kink and praise kink so he will 100% melt and forget about it.

Reiner:

Pretty much like Erwin, he is able to last all month but he won't even lose against you. No matter how much you beg him to fuck you, he will remind you about the challenge and it's supposely "benefic"effect. Unfortunately for you, Reiner has a lower sex drive than you so he doesn't get sexually frustrated after the 3 first weeks.

"You can do what you want, honey, but I will try to win the challenge."

Finally, it's the first of December, and you can finally do the deed. You two officially managed to get through November succesfully (even if you almost gave up once). Even Reiner found it more difficult than what he originally thought but you can reward yourselves by having intense love-making seance of many rounds to get all this frustration out of you.

[the-entitie]

Why didn't you say anything?

Poly TF 141 x sex-demon reader (male intended but has depictions of fem):

A|n: Based on this writer's amazing work and this artist's au. And now this is very long.... I can't just write porn can I? Of well.

Prt:2 is done <3 》》》》》

Be warned I use more Catholic or deamon depiction of our succubus(male) reader, so please expect some body horror esk depictions. Also, the 141 are all in a polycule in this story.

CW: NSFW halfway through after the line break, sex addiction or dependence depicted for reader, threats to health, kind of eating disorder esk, talk of threats/acts of noncon and dubcon to reader (not focused on), polyamory, some talk of religion, why is this so long? And angst??? Ok....

Thinking about being a demon who became the 141's spy. The blood of the damned that ran through you, making you that much more dangerous and that much better at your job.

You fell under the deadly sin of lust, but it's been so many decades that you can't quite remember how you came to be. Maybe reincarnation, maybe you were summoned. It doesn't matter anymore, but it still hindered your intake into the military. You were practically a veteran by the time Price picks you up and drags you into his team.

None of the 141 had ever worked with anyone demonic for an extended amount of time. There had been the call ins and times when they picked up failed missions, but none of them ever really worked with a demon.

Ghost, as a wraith, was the closest any of them had gotten to working with anyone similar to you.

You started out as someone they called to scope out information before a particularly threatening mission. You were just the help, the one they called when they needed a spy. Until they leaned about how every other task force would drop you within a month of calling you thiers.

Price had worried that it was something to do with you or your attitude towards teamwork when he had taken you in, made you one of his men.

That was before he noticed this kind of cycle you would go through. Just when a mission would start, you would pull back. You would separate from everyone, not cold turkey, yet you just wouldn't be present. The training room was one person short, or their would be one less person here on the quieter afternoons he didn't even know this team had.

It was after the missions that you would be more than present again.

You were there again when Soap wanted to run his lycanthopic body to exhaustion just so he could feel just a little more human with the pains it brought. When he was hyper, feeling like he needed to move, you were there to shove him. Drag him into a game of tag or chase or anything to help him move. Soap has never been good at sitting still.

When Gaz needed to be called from the purch he picked to preen his damp or irritated feathers on that was away from the busy noise of the base. Or when his Avian blood told him to take to the sky, you were happy to be taken for a flight or watch him loop around, watch him stretch his wings, across the star splattered skies.

And there you were outside with the nocturnal Ghost, saying you didn't need the sleep most nights and got bored. Even when his form would flicker, tendrils of shadows lashing around his open skin, something that made most run. You stayed with him, hummed a tune you can't remember the origin of, in a language probably only those as old as you would remember.

When Price was struck with phantom pain, when he would feel this pang on his wing only to realize it was from the one that didn't exist anymore. You were there with him. Happy to share a cigar with the smoke that smoldered was neither from his drag nor you. There to sit and fill in paperwork long into the night shift, to just exist around Price when the team was still settling in, or licking wounds.

In the more common areas where Soap would annoy Gaz into another game of cards. You were there to keep the peace.

It had taken Price longer than he was willing to admit to know what was going on. It wasn't some manipulative, carrot and stick, trick no. And it almost seemed like you hadn't consciously been doing it. Before it clicked.

You were a demon, a succubus, to be specific. You fed off of the emotion or the intent of sex.

And you only got that when you needed to get someone to talk. You only lean into it when it's needed for a mission.

He honestly felt stupid, like a leader that failed, but he was quick to right that failure. It wasn't like this team didn't run off and blow off steam together or that they left soap to struggle through his heat alone, nor did they leave Gaz to sit and brood alone. None of that.

And if you were a part of his team, this team, then you can't be starved. Can't be left to weaken, to crave, no. Price wouldn't stand it.

So he talked to the team. Told them his theory, his plan to fix it, and when the team had gotten over the hurt of leaving you alone and weak. They jumped at the opportunity.

Starting small.

Being more openly affectionate around you, never quiet reaching out but still letting the emotions linger.

Those play fights that Ghost would tap out of suddenly just kept going, and those thick visceral emotions none could quiet place the origin of; would hang so heavy in the air you could practically catch it between your teeth.

Those days Gaz would pull back, preen his wings alone; became fewer and far between. Now, the nearest team mate had a lap full of fluffled up wings and pleading eyes. And could Gaz use those honey coated eyes of his to glance up through his lashes and beg.

The quiet chuckles and this ever so pleased emotion would wind around Price's incisors, a satisfied thrill of the dragon flooding a palpable semblance of the satisfied job.

Price started talking about to the team, and they started trying to be more connected, more present, with you so you could have that nourishment. And if that meant that private room doors were left ever so lightly ajar during late nights spent with each other. No one mentioned it.

Soap was the first to notice the actual change.

Your eyes would flicker, puplis vibrating softly before it was shut down, and you would disappear. Or you would actually pull back. He was also the first to tell Price. And thier leader waisted no time.

"You good there, lutenent?" His voice calls softly into your quarters.

"All good Cap."

"Not so sure about that one soldier." Price presses on, taking a step further in to push the door more closed, "You don't play well with this team?"

"No, I have no qualms with any of you. Sorry if it seemed so."

"Ya do always talk so proper like you know?"

"Apologies, old habits."

Price steps closer, easily taking the space offered my your open thighs. Letting that simmering feeling flush his skin.

"Maybe we should start making new ones. What do you say, Sugar?"

His hand hovered just over your throat, careful to keep you feel safe. Price of all people knows what a demon can do when cornered, and it wasn't like he wanted you to feel put off.

He sees what Soap saw, just as his palm cups the edge of your jaw, your pupils flicker. Body dropping almost leaning agaisnt him.

"Why didn't you say something, Suguar?"

"Not of my use in this team."

"You don't need to be useful to eat." He sounded almost angry, calming all the more when you do lean into him, "you never need to earn a meal. Just ask. We all want to help."

That night, he let you ride him.

Laid back against your bed, held your weight by your thighs, and let you set the pace. Even if he was so hard it hurt, or if your dark lion-esk tail would flick across the sensitive inside of his thigh. Or when he's come twice and is practically drooling before he notice just how much more like your kin you look.

He doesn't stop you from flicking a forked tongue over the overwhelmed tears, he only noticed the change at the hitch of your breath when Price tangles his scared hands in your hair. Accidently tracing the curving rams horns that has twisted around your more pointed ears.

Singing your praise, even as you tried and failed to explain that you don't matter in this, just his pleasure.

He shut that down real quick.