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kesujo · 2 months ago

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Chapter 6: Miss Pet - Part 2

Previous chapter here.

“How do you want it?”

The hopeful expression in Tiffany’s eyes was quickly overtaken by an excited one. “Really?”

“Uh huh.”

“Thank you so much, I love you, Master!” Although those three particular words caught him off guard, his attention was immediately brought back to the chipper, energetic girl in front of him, who elected to jump onto his lap. Her arms went around his neck while her tail snaked around her waist, wrapping around Seojun’s throbbing member.

Seojun jumped, his fist clenching as a shudder ran down his body. Tiffany shifted forward, her eyes shining with joy and lips curving upwards in excitement. She rubbed her object of desire against her sopping wet slit, a pleased hum filling the air, the submissive succubus’s eyes fluttering shut as a wave of ecstasy filled her.

So hard had she worked for the privilege of being able to rub her Master’s cock against her aching pussy that it was screaming its wish to be filled to its owner. However, Tiffany wanted to revel in the feeling first. Like some sort of masochist, she withheld that satisfying feeling from herself, indulging in the steadily growing sensation of neediness. That budding feeling of want gradually transformed into raging desire, which over time became an overwhelming need. Tiffany’s sounds of pleasure grew in parallel, her hums and sighs transforming into full-out moans, her soaked slit continually pouring its juice onto Seojun’s member, thoroughly lubricating it with another layer of a different form of her bodily fluid.

It was only when Tiffany’s lust grew to the turning point of the edging she was inflicting on herself that Tiffany finally gave in. “Master, may I…?”

Seojun could tell what Tiffany was doing, and although feeling Tiffany’s smooth, drenched labia rub across his entire length was amazing, Seojun himself was starting to feel a little impatient. The accompanying visual only added onto the appeal: the way Tiffany’s eyes grew increasingly crossed, the way her chest heaved increasingly more noticeably, the bits of her arousal increasingly seeping into her hums and sighs and moans, everything was a feast for the eyes.

As enjoyable as it was to see Tiffany basking in the pleasure of edging herself, Seojun was also feeling his patience wearing thin as his lust increased. So when he heard those magical words, reeking of desperation and desire, he somehow managed to mask his ecstatic response in the calm manner matching his role in their master-servant roleplay. “Go ahead, Tiffany.”

When Tiffany finally plunged down onto his cock, hilting herself in one fell swoop, the two let out such a sexually-charged, synchronized groan that Taeyeon, who was observing from behind, had moved her hand away from Seojun’s side and onto her own pussy.

In that instant, the lust that had built up inside the two burst out all at once. Tiffany’s head was thrown back, her back arched, her hip and leg muscles flexing and the hot walls of her vagina tightening around Seojun’s sensitive sex organ. She relished in the sensation, rotating her hips against Seojun’s crotch, the pleasurable friction from the action drawing out further moans from the two.

“Ahn! Master’s cock is stretching my small pussy so much!”

But while Tiffany was enjoying the fruits of her torturous labor, Seojun was enjoying the body of not only Tiffany, but Taeyeon as well. At his front was Tiffany, her lascivious body pressed up firmly against him and her hot, soaking wet pussy wrapped tightly around his cock, and against his back was Taeyeon’s less curvaceous yet equally soft body, the sounds of her gentle moans while she fingered herself joining the symphony of sounds of pleasure from her best friend and her servant.

Tiffany’s plump, inviting lips and big, expressive eyes paired with curves giving way to a body just begging to be fucked, and Taeyeon’s beautiful, spotless skin that stretched over her ample chest and tight butt, both bodies were simply to die for. In a previous life, Taeyeon and Tiffany would’ve been the subject of Seojun’s fantasies, but to feel both of them at the same time was even more stimulating than he could’ve ever imagined.

“Master feels so good inside me!” Tiffany’s alluring voice echoed inside the bedroom, vibrating with the cadence of her bouncing atop Seojun’s cock. Seojun himself was no slouch, hands tightly gripping her hips and burying his cock deep into Tiffany with each thrust. So far did Seojun penetrate the succubus’s pussy, spewing out further lubrication to counteract its increasing tightness, that he could feel the tip of his penis brush against her cervix with nearly every thrust. The resonating sound of Tiffany’s dampening butt, ripples coming off it from the force of their connection, joined in on the symphony of sex. “I love Master’s cock so much, please use me like your personal sex toy!”

Seojun had inadvertently been staring straight at Tiffany’s vigorously bouncing tits the entire time and was so absolutely hypnotized by the sight that it took those words for him to accept the invitation, diving down and capturing her right breast with his mouth.

“Master…”

The whimper escaped from Tiffany as Seojun’s lips planted kisses along her soft mounds, small sparks of pleasure erupting from every point of contact. Feeling the sheer softness on his lips was addictive, but even more so was Tiffany’s response: demure whines and moans, her back arching slightly to allow him easier access.

“Master, I’m supposed to be paying you back, not making you do more work…”

“It’s alright Tiffany, I want to do this.”

“Master—ah!” This time, an abrupt squeal escaped from Tiffany, Seojun taking Tiffany’s invitingly swollen and pink nipples into his mouth and suckling on them. “Master!”

While Seojun feasted on Tiffany’s tits, Taeyeon was pressing hers firmly against his back, taking advantage of Seojun’s exposed neck by planting kisses along it.

“You’re fortunate your Master takes such good care of you, Fany.”

“Master is the most generous, kindest Master one could ask for~” Tiffany agreed in an almost purr of gratification.

To Seojun, he was being anything but generous. His fingers were cheating further and further down to feel the soft butt bouncing so fiercely against his groin, his thrusts increasing arbitrarily with Tiffany forced to match his pace, his lips ruthlessly attacking Tiffany’s rack and mercilessly tugging and pulling at the pink nubs sitting atop her breasts just begging to be suckled on, each and every single one of his actions were driven strictly by his own desire.

“More, Master! Harder! Destroy my undeserving pussy, ravish my boobs, turn my ass red and my insides white!”

But it seemed Tiffany didn’t mind, in fact relishing in her Master’s selfishness, a never-ending stream of moans and words of motivation only egging Seojun on. He was completely lost in his own cloud of ecstasy, barely noticing the added feeling of Taeyeon’s lips pressing against his until he felt her tongue run against the wet membrane. The sweet taste flooded his senses, briefly confusing him before realizing what Taeyeon had done.

The older succubus had manifested Seojun’s lips on his neck and was making out with it, Tiffany watching on in jealousy. When Taeyeon noticed this, she looked up, eyebrow cocked. “You’re such a needy girl, Tiffany,” Taeyeon noted, her hand reaching up to tuck a few stray strands of hair behind the bouncing woman’s ear. “You have your Master’s cock in your pussy and your Master’s mouth on your boobs, and now you also want your Master’s lips on yours?”

“I-I’m sorry, Mistress…”

“I think you need some punishment later, but for now enjoy all the attention Seojun is giving you.”

Seojun came up for air, Taeyeon quickly moving her head back to make room for it. “You’re doing a good job of paying me back, Tiffany. Why don’t you be a good girl and turn around for me?” Tiffany nodded, the dejected expression on her face replaced with an excited one.

“Yes, Master!” Tiffany hastily unsheathed herself, her body shaking as bits of her honey leaked past her closed lips and onto Seojun’s crotch, before turning around and presenting her delectable ass to Seojun. “Master can sit back and relax and let Tiffany do it.”

“Thank you, Tiffany.”

His eyes were trained solely on the sight of Tiffany’s dainty fingers reaching across the supple skin on her butt and spreading those cheeks apart, carefully backing up, carefully lining up her entrance with his throbbing tip before splitting her labia lips apart with his shaft.

“Master!”

Tiffany’s sexually-charged yelp rang inside Seojun’s head, the pleasant sensation joining the added feeling of her moist walls gripping his cock tightly, gliding along the length of his shaft as it slid to the hilt back inside the younger succubus. Seojun’s arms wrapped around Tiffany’s waist, head resting on her shoulder, eyes closed while soaking in the divine feeling of Tiffany’s plush yet firm ass massaging the sensitive skin around the base of his painfully erect cock as she masterfully rotated her hips against the stubble around his privates.

“Mmm, fuck,” Seojun husky moan floated right into Tiffany’s ear, a shudder running down from the top of her head all the way to the tips of her toes.

“Master…” The submissive whimper arose from Tiffany as naturally as a whine from a wounded animal. Her hand reached down but was stopped prematurely by Seojun, capturing her wrists with one hand while the other snaked down, finding the hardened nub easily.

“Sing for me, Tiffany,” he whispered into her ear right before pinching it with his thumb and index finger.

And sing Tiffany did. The noises coming out of Tiffany’s mouth grew louder as Seojun’s fingers played with her clit and rubbed the sensitive lips split wide apart by his cock, louder again when he resumed the thrusting motion from before, and louder still when Seojun’s free hand traveled up and began massaging Tiffany’s boobs. Seojun was so absorbed by the pure ecstasy of Tiffany’s soft, curvaceous body reacting so responsively in his hands that his orgasm nearly caught himself by surprise.

“Tiffany, I’m—!” was the only warning Seojun gave before unleashing a torrent of semen straight into the waiting womb of the lewdly moaning demoness.

“Oh-Oh, oh god, Master!” Tiffany’s entire body tensed as she absorbed the generous feast supplied by the succubus’s servant, the seemingly endless stream of the delectable sustenance so overwhelming that it brought her to her own orgasm. “Master, it’s so much, I’m cumming too, oh—Oh, oh god!”

The final word came out as a scream, the arousal in her body overflowing onto Seojun’s cock mid-ejaculation. The warm feeling of her fluid on his sensitive sex organ on top of the feeling of Tiffany’s curvaceous body shaking so intensely against his own seemed to prolong his orgasm, a few additional groans and grunts leaking out of Seojun’s lips, the tugging and massaging motion of the fleshy walls of Tiffany’s relentless pussy milking the last few drops of semen from him.

“Who said you were allowed to orgasm too?”

Seojun felt a chill down his spine at the sheer coldness of Taeyeon’s voice directed at the succubus winding down from her orgasm.

“Babe, it’s fine, I’m glad she enjoyed it,” Seojun said, leaning his head back onto Taeyeon’s shoulder and bringing his hand around to caress her cheek.

Ordinarily, Seojun probably would’ve just gone with the flow and let Taeyeon direct everything; however, while the tension that had built up inside him had unraveled, his lust for Tiffany’s body still remained peaked. Looking back, Seojun would realize just how amazing Tiffany’s Trait was, but in the moment it felt no different than every other time—which only went to show how practiced and matured Tiffany and honed her Trait in her millennia as sex demon.

Feeling Seojun’s warm hand against her face, the size of his hand dwarfing the small size of the dominant succubus’s face, Taeyeon closed her eyes and smiled. “If you say so, honey.”

“Master—”

Tiffany’s eagerness was cut short by Taeyeon, the sternness returning to her voice. “But we’re resting now. You don’t want to make your Master black out again, do you?”

Tiffany frowned, the dejected expression overtaking her face pulling at Seojun’s heartstrings. “No. I’m sorry Mistress…”

“Good girl.” The compliment from the otherwise stoic Taeyeon immediately put a smile back on Tiffany’s face as she unmounted Seojun. “Babe, you can scoot back and rest a bit. The key to taking advantage of Tiffany’s Trait is to occasionally bring yourself back down, since it’s that high level of constant arousal that the mortal mind can’t handle and causes the blackout. Fany, come here.”

The two readily obeyed, Seojun taking his place at the head of the bed while Tiffany joined Taeyeon at the other edge of the king-sized bed. As Tiffany was still shifting into her position, laying down face-up with her eyes directed at the other succubus half-standing and half-kneeling between her legs, Taeyeon started.

“Mistress—oh my god!”

The loud gasp arose from Tiffany, her eyes shooting wide open as Taeyeon pushed four fingers straight into the curvier demoness. “But you still need to be punished for being such a greedy girl,” Taeyeon said, the devilish grin on her face so fitting and so damn sexy. “You want attention? Here, let Mistress give you all the attention you could ever need.”

“Oh my—oh god, fuck!”

The gasps and moans didn’t stop, Tiffany’s chest raising and falling with increasing frequency as Taeyeon continued her attack. One hand went to her clit, her tail transforming into a hand and heading straight for her boobs, massaging them with such strength that Seojun felt concern that she would end up deforming Tiffany’s rack. Fortunately, no such injury occurred, the increasing ferocity of Taeyeon’s punishment causing Tiffany to close her eyes, her fists clenched and her back arched, her legs shaking as Taeyeon’s four fingers relentlessly pounded Tiffany’s hole.

The sight before him was incredible: Taeyeon and Tiffany were both extremely attractive and sexy in their own right, but together, they had amazing visual chemistry. Seeing the determined, confident expression on Taeyeon’s face, watching the smaller succubus dominate the taller one, submissively mewling and moaning, her lewd body responding to her Mistress’s each and every action, both pairs of boobs jiggling beautifully at the increasing pace of Taeyeon’s assault, it was all enough to get Seojun’s previously softening erection raring back in force. He grit his teeth, trying to fight it off and resist the urge to start jacking off to Taeyeon and Tiffany’s steamy sex, not wanting to defeat the purpose of the break he was taking at the moment.

While Tiffany was too preoccupied with Taeyeon’s fingers to notice Seojun’s increasing lust, Taeyeon didn’t let it slip. She smiled to herself, briefly closing one eye for a second before opening it back up.

Seojun flinched, his vision suddenly becoming blurry; his right eye instinctively closed, a second image appearing before him. It was nothing like he had ever experienced: it felt like he was seeing a picture-in-picture except in real life, with the sight of Taeny from his vantage point on one side and a top-down view of Taeyeon’s fingers penetrating her glistening folds and sliding into the damp opening on the other. “Thought you might like this view, babe.”

“Wow … I didn’t know you could do this…”

Taeyeon grinned in reply. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s great—but I thought you usually had to touch the person whose body part you’re copying.”

“Not for my dedicated servant. Fany, it looks like you’re enjoying this too much; this is supposed to be a punishment, remember?”

“I-I’m sorry, Mistress! Mistress’s hands just feel so—oh!”

Seojun flinched again, except this time it was seeing Taeyeon curl her fingers inside Tiffany from Taeyeon’s vantage point.

“I think your Master is almost ready, why don’t you warm him up?”

Understanding the cue, Seojun got up into a kneeling position and presented his erect cock to Tiffany. Her eyes flickered away from Taeyeon and onto the sex organ hovering over her, the look of arousal deepening and her eyes narrowing at the sight. Her hands moved away from her sides and onto the stiff rod, firmly grabbing it while her head moved up so that her mouth could capture one of his testicles.

Seojun hissed as Tiffany’s hands started pumping the hardening shaft, her lips forming a tight seal around one of his balls and her tongue swirling around his scrotum. The double whammy of seeing Tiffany below him suckling on his balls while Taeyeon’s fingers pried the taller succubus’s hole wider and wider was insanely arousing. Seojun could only watch on in awe as Taeyeon managed to first push the joints of her fingers inside Tiffany, followed by her knuckles, and then finally the entire fist.

At that moment, Tiffany let go of Seojun’s testicles, a loud, resonant moan echoing about the bedroom. “Mistress, oh god, it’s so much!”

“Who told you to stop warming Seojun up?”

“I’m sorry!” she yelped in response to Taeyeon’s fierce thrust, pushing her fist as far as she could into the fleshy walls of her vagina, desperately stretching in an attempt to accommodate its guest. Tiffany lifted her head up a bit more, Seojun aiding by lowering himself a bit, so that her lips were level with his veiny cock. Her fingers were unsteady, her body involuntarily shaking from Taeyeon’s merciless fisting, but held Seojun’s manhood steadily enough to cover his shaft with kisses. One hand moved down to caress his balls, the other reaching behind Seojun to secure herself, her long tongue gliding along the underside of his shaft.

A strong surge of arousal sent a shudder down Seojun’s body, another hiss of approval escaping his lips as Tiffany’s mouth captured the first few inches of his cock. Though she was unable to take more in due to the position of her head, the masterful use of her tongue despite the increasing raggedness of breath and increasing tension in her body from another impending orgasm more than compensated for that fact.

“Fuck, Tiffany, that feels so good.”

Keeping his right eye closed, Seojun’s duo sight of seeing Tiffany craning her head to capture as much of his cock as possible and seeing her pussy swallowing the entirety of Taeyeon’s balled-up fist, sprays of her honey flying out with each pull outwards and her body jumping at each thrust back inside aided in his growing lust.

“You’re such a naughty slut, about to cum from getting your punishment.”

The increasing ecstatic sensation inside her heightened to a point that she could no longer sustain keeping Seojun’s cock inside her mouth, her breathing growing so deep that her mounds, although were no longer being massaged by Taeyeon’s tail-turned-hand, jiggled and bounced about nearly just as much. “I-I’m sorry, Mistress, bu-but I can’t help it because Mistress’s hands feels so good inside me!”

“What do you say, honey?” Taeyeon suddenly stopped, her eyes still trained below her, onto her wrist hanging out from Tiffany’s entrance. Tiffany let out a sharp whine, her body squirming and her hips wildly thrusting, attempting to compensate for the sudden pause. “Does this slut deserve to cum?”

“Let her cum, honey, she took her punishment well enough.”

“You’re so soft, babe.” For a brief second, Seojun wondered if Taeyeon was disappointed in her response, but seeing her smile vaporized that thought. “But that’s what I love about you. You better be thankful for your Master.”

Tiffany yelped as Taeyeon resumed her fierce pistoning with rekindled vigor, just barely able to squeak out the words, “Th-Thank you, Master!” before letting out a high-pitched, drawn out, beautiful note of ecstasy as her body succumbed to pleasure, her body shaking violently as her orgasm overtook her body.

Taeyeon aided Tiffany in riding out the orgasm, Seojun drinking in both the stunning visual of the breathtakingly beautiful and sexy Taeyeon kneeling between the legs of the extremely attractive and alluring Tiffany and the top-down view of Taeyeon’s fist disappearing again and again into the abyss of Tiffany’s pussy as streams of her viscous liquid leaked out of their connection and onto the soft material below them. Seojun pulled back, watching on as Tiffany’s orgasm died down, ending with a final shudder when Taeyeon extracted her hand from its wet, warm confines.

Tiffany laid on the bed for a few seconds in the afterglow of her climax, her chest still heaving from the intensity of the orgasm. After restoring Seojun’s vision back to normal, Taeyeon beckoned Seojun over. He proceeded to essentially exchange places with Tiffany, who scooted further up the bed to make room for him.

“You wanted more attention from your Master, did you?”

Those words sparked Tiffany’s interest, who lifted her head. Seojun couldn’t resist the urge to smile at the sight of the adorable excitement clearly visible on Tiffany’s face, the enthusiasm akin to a restless puppy hearing the word ‘outside’ or ‘play’. She nodded vigorously, earning a sly smirk from Taeyeon.

“Turn around, on your hands and knees,” Taeyeon told her, then whispering into Seojun’s ear, “Make sure you, yourself, are ready, babe.”

A shiver crawled all the way up Seojun’s body at hearing Taeyeon’s honey-sweet voice breathing the pet name into his ear. His face took on a red hue, his heartbeat revving up to already dangerously high levels—Taeyeon, sensing this, could only giggle to herself. “O-Of course,” Seojun found himself stuttering, biting back another moan at the feeling of Taeyeon’s ample bosom pressing against his back.

Taeyeon’s hands reached down and wrapped around his shaft as Tiffany turned around and presented her perfectly shaped bubble butt to her Master. “Like this?” Tiffany asked, her neck craning backwards to make eye contact with her Mistress.

“Take a look at that. Doesn’t our Fany have such a sexy butt?” Taeyeon’s hand reached about Seojun and landed on the supple flesh on her rear, Tiffany yelping in response.

“She sure does,” Seojun said in agreement, his hand joining Taeyeon’s almost subconsciously, feeling up the soft skin beneath his palms.

“Master … Mistress…” Tiffany whimpered, her eyes already showing clear signs of aphrodisia.

“It’s so nice and round, and her skin is so taught and white … doesn’t it just make you want to violate it?”

The harsh words coming from Taeyeon’s contrastingly relaxing voice caused a spike in his levels of arousal. “It does,” Seojun agreed once more. Tiffany’s whimpers increased in volume, her legs beginning to shake and slivers of precum starting to dribble out of the succubus already turned on beyond belief.

“Master, please…”

Although Seojun had no problems with Tiffany being mostly in control in their night-long sex session, hearing Tiffany make such submissive noises was just as tantalizing. Accompanying the subservient whimper was a surge of power and control that Seojun felt only one other time with Taeyeon and with Yeoreum, so convincing that Seojun completely forgot that Tiffany was supposedly putting up an act.

“Face forward, and no looking back.” Tiffany reluctantly obeyed, planting her face on the pillow, mewling and whimpering as the pair continued to enjoy the soft firmness of her bottom. “Carefully, OK?” Taeyeon whispered to Seojun.

Before he could ask what she meant, he felt the distantly familiar sensation of the fingers on his left hand melding together, looking to confirm that Taeyeon had used her Trait to copy his penis onto his hand.

So this is what she meant.

“You want this?” Seojun teased, brushing the tip of his cock against her labia, her plump cheeks spread apart with the help of Taeyeon.

“Yes! Please, Master!” Her body shook along with her voice from pure need, her hips pushing back, gyrating against the length of his cock pressed against her wet slit.

“You’re such a needy slut, aren’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry, but I can’t help it because Master’s fucks me so well and Master’s cum feels too good inside me!”

“Inside where? Your pussy,” Seojun said, teasing the entrance to her vagina, “or your ass?” He pulled away, using the cock on his hand to tease the puckered hole above.

“Inside … I-Inside … I’m sorry Master, I can’t decide, Master’s cock feels amazing in both!”

“If you can’t decide, then I’ll just use both!” At the last word, without warning, Seojun promptly shoved both cocks into their respective holes.

“Ah, Master! Oh god, FUCK!”

Tiffany’s ecstatic scream resonated inside Seojun’s eardrums, himself grimacing at the combined feeling of her sphincter muscles squeezing his cock so tightly as well as her hot, wet walls hugging the circumference of his dick, massaging and tugging on it, as if trying to pull him further in. Seojun obliged, his right hand tightly gripping her waist as he pushed both penises into each of the tight holes until he had completely sheathed them inside her.

“Fuck, Tiffany…” Seojun groaned, pulling his dick out of Tiffany’s pussy until barely a centimeter was left inside, his arm pushing the other penis hard against her cervix to serve as a counter-balance, before firmly shoving his entire length back in. Tiffany let out another sharp moan, her back arching at the influx of ecstasy. “Is Master giving you enough attention now?”

“Yes—ah!” Tiffany’s response was cut off when Seojun alternated, extracting his dick from her ass while firmly pushing the original against the back of her vagina. “I-I love Master’s cocks inside me!”

“You’re such a dirty little whore for enjoying the feeling of your Master’s dick in both of your slutty holes, aren’t you?” Taeyeon egged her on, herself growing wet at the sight of her best friend’s vagina and backdoor being simultaneously penetrated by her servant.

“Yes! I’m Master’s little cumslut! I love feeling Master’s cock ravage both of my slutty holes!”

It took some getting used to, securing himself with only one hand, but Taeyeon being pressed up so firmly behind him helped. He soon got into the rhythm of alternating thrusts between his left arm and his hips, and when he did, Tiffany became not much more than a mewling, moaning mess.

The two were so preoccupied with each other that they didn’t even notice Taeyeon preparing in the background, snaking her tail around to Tiffany’s front while picking up Tiffany’s arms and placing them on her own forearm. It wasn’t until both of Taeyeon’s hands as well as her tail transformed into more copies of Seojun’s penis that Seojun noticed Taeyeon was doing something, and it wasn’t until Tiffany felt the soft tip of Seojun’s otherwise rock-hard dick that she noticed something.

“I noticed you still have a hole left unfilled, why don’t I fill that for you?”

“Oh! Thank you so much, Mistress!” Tiffany jumped at the opportunity to fill her mouth with the same cock that was stretching her pussy and asshole at the same time, planting a few kisses on the sensitive tip and dribbling on some saliva before attacking the stiff rod with her mouth.

Seojun swore loudly, another surge of pleasure expanding inside his body at the feeling of the third warm, tight cavern suffocating his cock.

“Do you like that, babe?” Taeyeon whispered into his ear, sensually rubbing her breasts against his back. In most cases, the feeling of her hardened nipples drawing random lines on his skin would drive him crazy, but his mind was already so preoccupied with pleasure from all three of Tiffany’s holes that he barely registered it.

“Yes, fuck, Tiffany feels so good on my cock.”

Tiffany let out a muffled noise of joy, the words of encouragement pushing her to become more aggressive with the cock wedged deep down her throat. In addition to the satisfying, crisp sound of Tiffany’s voluptuous ass slapping against his groin, another sound soon joined the cacophony of sex sounds: the wet gargling and slurping noises, and occasional gagging noises, of Tiffany’s mouth as she deepthroated his painfully hard erection.

“How about we add more?”

“What? More?”

Instead of answering with words, Taeyeon elected to answer with her actions, turning both of her hands into yet more copies of Seojun’s penis. “Get your hands working, Fany.”

Understanding the prompt, Tiffany shifted her hands down and, to her delight, found yet another pair of her favorite phallic object against her palms. She immediately got to work, her thumb caressing the swollen tip of his dick while the rest of her fingers wrapped firmly around the shaft, her soft palm flush against its veiny surface, and pumped.

At that point, Seojun’s mind was so overwhelmed with pleasure that he completely lost the ability to think. His hips and left hand continuously pounded Tiffany from the back, Tiffany herself helping by matching his increasingly wild rhythm, his upper body slumped against the marshmallow-y skin of Tiffany’s back, his right hand reaching around and groping her tits with the same force at which her body shook with absolute, sheer ecstasy.

Tiffany herself was starting to become overwhelmed; multi-tasking as she was currently doing wasn’t the issue, as she enjoyed the occasional gangbang on more than one, perhaps even more than a hundred, occasions, but it was the sheer excitement from the impending orgasm Tiffany could feel Seojun rapidly approaching.

Although Seojun could feel a tension in his nether regions, he could barely register it: the hot walls of Tiffany’s pussy convulsing around his hardened shaft, the tight grip her sphincter muscles had on the base of his dick, the continual spray of fluid from both her pussy and her mouth onto his shaft as they relentlessly pounded her, the tension of her throat as his dick traversed deep inside her mouth, and the softness of her fingers and palms juxtaposing the harsh jerking motion of her hands, rubbing along the entire length of his shaft as if coaxing out his seed.

“This is where you belong, getting fucked in all of your holes by your Master’s cock, using your two free hands to pleasure two more of them. Are you getting enough of your Master’s attention now?”

“Mmm!” Tiffany’s response was muffled by the cock occupying her oral orifice, completely lost in a sea of pleasure. It became a viscous feedback loop: Seojun’s movements would make Tiffany hornier, which would make her movements wilder, which in turn increased Seojun’s arousal and would cause him to become wilder.

“You want to feel your Master’s cum pouring down your throat and directly into your slutty pussy and asshole?”

“Mmm!”

“You want to feel your body coated in a layer of your Master’s thick semen?”

“Mmm!”

“Fuck, Tiff—!” was Seojun only warning before the tension in his lower abdominal area unraveled all at once.

Every single penis exploded simultaneously, the influx of the delicious sustenance into Tiffany’s body throwing her body into a state of overdrive. The entire room filled with the high-pitched noise of her scream as her pussy, her ass, and her throat was filled with wave after wave of semen, the additional dicks shooting the viscous fluid at first onto her back and sides, then transitioning to her neck, clavicle, and tits. Her mind was filled with nothing but sex and the immaculate taste of Seojun’s semen, not even noticing that they had shifted her onto Seojun’s lap so that she could more easily ride out her own orgasm.

“Master, oh god, Master…” her mouth, now unplugged by the cock still lodged inside her vagina and butt, rambled incoherently, the waves of ecstasy rolling inside her body long after Seojun’s orgasm calmed down. “Master’s semen is so good, I can’t—oh, oh god, Master!”

Another squeal and another orgasm directly following the previous as her body continued to process the high-quality semen, her body shaking violently against Seojun’s as the second orgasm wracked her body. It wasn’t until a full minute passed that Tiffany’s orgasm had finally completely subsided, by which all body parts that had transformed into Seojun’s cock were reverted to their original state.

At this point, Seojun was starting to feel the onset of exhaustion, but the warm walls of Tiffany’s pussy massaging his cock, tugging and pulling on it as if requesting another round, fought it off well.

“Wow, fuck, that was so intense,” Tiffany said, taking a moment to catch her breath, lazily leaning against Seojun’s chest and scooping the viscous bodily fluid off her breasts, neckline, and sides into her mouth. “I can’t remember the last time I had consecutive orgasms like that.”

“Right?! Isn’t he worth your life-long pact of never designating a Servant?”

Tiffany giggled. “What do you mean ‘pact’?” Hearing the beautiful noise was immensely pleasing to Seojun’s ears, perhaps equally as pleasing as her screams of ecstasy—although in a completely different manner. “It’s just that, I didn’t want to give up the freedom to have a diverse taste of semen from all sorts of men, but…”

“Hm? But what?”

“Well, the taste of ‘Master’s’ cum never bored me, which has never happened before after spending an entire night feasting on it.”

“Y-You don’t have to call me that anymore.”

Hearing Seojun’s innocent stammer elicited another beautiful giggle from the succubus whose pussy was still straddling his cock. “Why not?” she said playfully, teasing the erect shaft by grinding a bit against his groin. Seojun furrowed his eyebrows, a groan arising from him at the unexpected movement.

“I don’t know, Tiffany; it just feels weird, somehow…”

“Oh, and you don’t have to use honorifics with me like with Taeyeon,” Tiffany said, getting up and unplugging the last remaining hole. She turned around and sat on the bed, facing them, Taeyeon resting her arms on Seojun’s lap and her head on his shoulder. Seojun could feel his face turn bright pink at the intimate actions of what was supposed to be his actual Mistress, but doing his best to look Tiffany in the eye nonetheless.

“OK, Ti—Tiffany.”

Said succubus smiled, her eyes disappearing into thick, black, upside-down crescent moons. Seojun felt his heart skipping another few beats. Thank god his body had already been modified, or else he might’ve had a heart attack and died right then and there. “Much better! I think I decided, I’m going to make you my Servant too.”

Although it was Taeyeon who was pressing Tiffany to do so, it was her jaw that dropped the most. “Wait, really?”

“What? You were the one who told me to!”

“Is there no, um, restriction for being a Servant to multiple succubae?”

Taeyeon pondered the question. “Hmm, not to my knowledge. Tastes tend to vary wildly between succubae, so there aren’t usually many cases where two will want the same man as her Servant. I heard that there are diminishing returns on the physical benefits of being designated Servant of multiple succubae though; your physical body won’t improve as drastically as it did the first time, but your lifespan still increases by some amount, but not by as much. Maybe a couple hundred years.”

“Should we get started now?”

“Wait, Tiffany; how much do you know about the ritual?”

Tiffany huffed indignantly. “I can do it, you know. I did have a Servant in the past in my earlier days, but he didn’t last long.”

Taeyeon sighed. “Well, the ritual is all about attuning your bodies and life forces to each other, as well as implementing any physical modifications to the Servant. For a normal human, becoming a Servant isn’t an issue because their life force is untouched and therefore extremely malleable; however, with Seojun, it has already been attuned to mine, which will make it harder to also become attuned to yours.”

Tiffany’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion—but however confused Tiffany was, Seojun was even more so. ‘Life force’? ‘Attunement’? Maybe he should’ve asked more about it that one time Taeyeon mentioned it. “What? How?”

“Attuning two life forces is a process that involves adjusting and changing bits of Seojun’s life force to weave together with mine. That’s why attuning to someone else would be harder.” When Tiffany remained silent, no less confused, Taeyeon continued, “Imagine each of our life forces as a bundle of strings. One of the things the Servant ritual does is to tie these strings together; now, if Seojun wants to attune to you, he’ll have to untie some of those strings attached to me before he can tie some of his strings with you.”

“Oh, I see…”

“This process of untying the strings can have some serious strain on a human body, not even mentioning how Seojun’s body might physically alter again during the ritual. So, just in case, what we’ll have to do is train up your physical body. Luckily, I’m still your personal trainer, so I can give you all the private sessions you need.”

Hearing those words increased the intensity of his flush, while simultaneously hardening his growing erection.

Taeyeon, noticing this, grinned. “So, are you ready for another round?”

Next chapter here.

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onyourhyuck · 1 year ago

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Red Light. | N.JM

— Prologue: “Baby just the tip, i promise.”

— Summary: You and your boyfriend Jaemin get the cab back home however, your boyfriend can’t keep his hands off you.

— Genre: Smut. Cockwarming. Public sex literally at the back of the cab. Needyboyfriend!jaemin. Exhibitionist. Slight voyeurism Jaemin. Mention of first time squirting. Jaemin’s literally pussy starved this man cannot wait. Unprotected sex. The name terms used ‘good girl’ ‘pretty slut’. They get caught at the end.

— Notes: This trope does something to me.

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Your boyfriend and you decided to get the cab home after having a double date dinner with your friends. The night ended when you and Jaemin couldn’t wait anymore. During the entire dinner let’s just say your boyfriend was literally touching you at every end of your will considering how good you look it’s a torture to stare and sit still. Your boyfriend can’t wait. You didn’t know what else to do except to call early and tell your two friends you need the cab.

“Yeah sorry Mark, something came up. It was nice having dinner though with you guys.” You fake a smile at your friend and Mark being the gullible person he was believed you.

He believes that you actually had something important coming up. You’re glad your friend trusts you so much considering you’re now fighting between your inner conflict of slapping your boyfriend’s hand under the table that’s right at the hem of your panty line ready to sneak his touch in between your two pretty thigh gaps touching his hands.

You wish your frown was visible but you couldn’t make your expression obvious so now you’re just squeezing your thighs together hoping your boyfriend gets the memo that he can’t be doing this in a public restaurant, in front of your two friends.

“Yeah… I promise I’ll make it up for you, right Jaemin?” You now said turning to your boyfriend with a hidden glaring smile and your voice was hoarse and gritty when speaking to him.

Your boyfriend turns his blank gaze to Mark and his girlfriend who are watching the both of you. There was some tension between you guys especially when your expression fell into hard solid form when speaking to your boyfriend about the problem that came up. “Hm? Oh yeah, we definitely will reschedule our double date on a better day.” He says and you turn your sharp glare away standing up with your dress and Jaemin was quick enough to take his hand away from between your thighs.

Leaving the restaurant wasn’t easy either. Jaemin’s hands always found a way to grope around your waist or your ass down below your dress you keep trying to fight the urge to snap at him. You have no idea why your boyfriend was deciding to suddenly out of nowhere act out like this.

Once the cab arrives in front of the restaurant you snuck in first and Jaemin goes inside after you. The black cab had tainted windows in the back and he found that to be convenient knowing that he will not have the patience to get back home to take a taste of you. Your cab driver starts to drive when you direct him to the address of your house.

Hand snuck around your waist and Jaemin’s face was hidden on the nape of your neck breathing and taking in your scent. It was sweet and warm. It reminds him of coffee in some way. Your breath quickens when his hands caresses your thighs going up, and up, until he reaches the higher ground. Your eyes shift to your boyfriend’s stoic face that shows no emotion but flatness. You knew damn well what he was feeling behind those black eyes.

Jaemin whispers near your face, his hot breath drawing on you as if you were a white blank canvas and he was the painter. “Get on my lap baby, I need to be inside of you.”

The words he tells you were so simple but so complex knowing that you’re literally in the back of the cab on your way home and the ride from the city back to your house will be a little longer drive especially with the night life traffic going on. You want to cuss knowing how much your boyfriend’s mind was already made up. There’s no point trying to change his decision. He already knows what he wants and he needs you.

Your eyes widen as did your perfectly red lips. “Jaemin you can’t be serious right? We’re on our way home can’t you wait for a minute?” You snapped quietly knowing the driver could hear even the slightest of yells.

The situation was already arousing so much, Jaemin hearing your sharp snapping makes him think how attractive you are when you’re angry or even scolding him? Jaemin can’t handle much of your voice either he just keeps imagining flashbacks of you moaning everytime he was inside you. All those memories keep invading his brain and sight. It’s all he can see and hear nowadays was just you moaning out his name while you’re being a pillow princess in your shared double bed.

“I can’t wait. You kept me waiting long enough Y/n.”

He shakes his head as if this was already decided between the both of you. If it’s done discreetly than none of you will get caught and that’s a happy ending right?

You feel his hot breath against your cheek while his mouth plants soft and slow kisses on your jawline and down your neck just above the jawline he has just kissed. As if he was waiting for your approval. But of course he knows you will into the idea, you never leave your boyfriend behind when he wants something from you. “Baby just the tip, i promise.” He softly whispers into your ears bringing the face back up to be next to your pierced ears wearing those pretty diamond earrings.

You thickly swallow your saliva building in your mouth knowing how you’re starting to vision how he would be only inside you, not moving and not doing anything. It wouldn’t look weird if you’re sitting on your boyfriend’s lap. The driver up front wouldn’t even notice.

“Okay just the tip.” You whisper slowly. Jaemin gave a little smirk knowing you’re about to move on to his lap. The body weight pressing on his crotch while Jaemin was sneaky enough to wrap the hands on the surface of your beautiful thighs while you feel the zipper pull down below and the harden crotch pressing against the crack of your ass just makes you shiver. You’ve never done something like this with your boyfriend or even with your past lovers; but this wasn’t nearly as exciting as anything you did before and this new level of excitement and intimacy you’re about to unlock with Jaemin.

Your boyfriend pressed the tip on your entrance and slowly and surely pushed inside feeling your walls growing on him like it was a circle squeezing and squeezing him out of you even more. Your mouth parts like the waves landing on the shore as the intense pressure forming from down below stretching you out much. Your hand pressed over your mouth and you bite your palm to make any noise die off.

He slips out low groans at the back of your neck kissing down your spine while you are seating on your boyfriend’s lap casually watching your hands curling up into a ball. The warmth and fullness of your body giving him so much ecstasy.

It was unbelievable how good it feels to be inside you not moving or doing anything but it was just as intense as if he was moving around.

Your eyes waver when your boyfriend spread his kisses on your shoulders as his hands caress up and down your thighs. Your stomach was at its wits ends right now. “You feel good? I feel so good… I missed your warmth so much.” Jaemin whispers bringing his lips to your ears giving it a small loving kiss.

You breathe out heavily. “Mhm…” and your mind goes to wander many things as you try not to move too much. The back of the cab starts to move again and now you’re going through these speed bumps which makes your bodies rock even more against each other while pressing your back against his chest.

Jaemin groans deeply suddenly while he sucks on your neck, the intimacy of your bodies rocking back and forth like a carousel would makes your brains turn off and the electric impulses you feel running in your blood making it go warm when your boyfriend was kissing your skin and sucking on it causing gentle reddish marks to form. “Fuck… baby move your hips against me gently.” He pleads nearly.

You bite your tongue as you do as he said, your hips rut in small movements at the backside while you’re sitting on the lap. “Fuck, Jaemin…”

Watching you moan his name like that while trying to be quiet wasn’t working in your boyfriend’s favour, it was making your boyfriend go ballistic hearing how pretty you sound. He can’t get enough of you. It wasn’t enough for him no matter what you’re doing Jaemin keeps wanting you as if you’re gravity pulling him down with you.

His hands move inside your panties now when you least expected as you’re focusing on your body steadily keeping it on his lap as the cab shakes time to time you didn’t want to fall off. Your boyfriend was sly and he slowly rubs circles on your clit which makes you flinch at the sudden contact of his long slender fingers creating a new pleasure to enter your body. It was filling your head with joy. To feel your boyfriend down there rubbing you in circles while the driver was driving.

Trying to not make it so obvious what you’re doing you start to struggle holding it in. Jaemin saw how your eyes were watering and you’re trying not to press too much pressure otherwise you would’ve moaned a much louder tone.

“My pretty slut enjoys getting fingered by her boyfriend in the back of the cab? Oh my… Y/n you’re so dirty.”

You close your eyes as Jaemin pushed in the fingers into your wet hole making small wet noises to come out between your shaking legs as his cock was bending your walls with powerful thrusts. The intensity of him inside your interior womb was just rubbing your shoulders by his forehead while pressing such deadly wet kisses on your body, while he was nastily moving his fingers roughly in and out of you. All your broken voices in your head was killing you to let them out.

It never crossed your mind once to think your boyfriend would ever be like this in public with you.

Somehow this makes it even more arousing than you might of expected it to be. You hate how your boyfriend’s touches were engraved to your muscle memory. Every part of him was a memory you remember. It just makes your walls crumble and your guard will always be lowered when your boyfriend touched you. He knows your love language was physical touch as well and this made it all so much harder to ignore your boyfriend.

“Fuckfuck… Jaemin… stop we will get caught.” You eagerly tell him when you’re feeling your stomach flipping upside down.

Jaemin smirks with his eyes watching yours. They were so crystal clear and they are watering at every second the fingers slipping out of your wet cunt. “You think I actually care if we get caught baby? Darling don’t be afraid and give our cab driver a good show.”

He was teasing you, it’s obvious but in the moment you feel everything hitting you with all hundred percent. You bite on your inner cheek as the pace of the fingers were increasing the amount to bury deep in your sweet soothing cunt as your breath quickens and now your chest was pounding full on with your heart racing at each moment he was latching at your body keeping you close.

You moan into your palm hurriedly, your moans were getting too hard to keep track of. Jaemin’s fingers were kissing your thick and soft walls while his free hand was running in your thick and silky soft hair, as if he was brushing them away from your face so he can see how red your cheeks were.

In your mind you were a literal mess. Shaking and trembling with your weight pressing on the lower body with your boyfriend’s cock deeply buried twitching while he occasionally thrusts inside while your nub was quickly teased between the two fingers.

Jaemin’s thumb and index finger pinch at your clit causing you to cry out suddenly while you had your teeth biting at your own tongue.

“Ah! Shit… shit… m’feels so good.” You mumble you couldn’t even think of anything else to distract yourself from this. All you had on your mind was how much you want to cum on his fingers. Even the scorching knot heating your abdomen below was threatening to burst.

Jaemin knew you were about to release before you knew it yourself. It’s like you couldn’t even keep track of your own body’s release and Jaemin was making sure your body remembers him so much you’re going to scream his name out. It was like a promise song he will always keep you at.

The release you didn’t even know was coming had you suddenly moaning much louder and you failed to keep it inside as you bury your head in your two palms out as your boyfriend’s fingers were rubbing fanning up and down on your red swollen causing clit causing your folds to tear open a powerful orgasm with your own pussy juice making your legs split open and shatter as it all falls out of you like a thunderstorm before the calm.

It didn’t even occur to you that you’re about to cum but your boyfriend had you thinking so much you were blanking out in between the intense moments of his hand between your thighs while he was inside your cunt so deep you can barely describe how far he was inside of you.

Jaemin’s trousers were wet and he was enjoying your leak so much he didn’t stop moving the fingers against your clit as he made you spill so much more. At this point you were bouncing on his lap as you’re crying out with pleasure for your own salvation and help right now.

“That’s it, good girl… good girl.” Jaemin coos against your face kissing your cheek as you’re here breathing and panting heavily with your half eyelids open.

At the same time he saw your droopy expression telling him how good you’re feeling. It must’ve been like you were put into a different dream, or perhaps it feels like a dream to you knowing how good your body was under going underneath what he caused you to feel.

“Ahh… fuck I came… ahhh no way…”

You whimper a few curse spells while you try to move on the lap while your boyfriend’s cock was still buried deeply in your folds. All your orgasm was creaming now against the tip of his shaft.

Your brain took a few seconds to register that you squirted all over the cab flooring and his trousers. Now it was everything so wet you didn’t even think you could orgasm this way. Your dress was slightly crumpled up. Your boyfriend’s clothes are wrinkled and wet from your squirting. Your eyes were feeling heavy as much as your red lipstick was stained when Jaemin brought his face over to rub his thumb over your bottom lip that has little drool from your moans.

The lipstick smudged over to your corner of the lips and the chin while Jaemin looks at you, you look like a messy considering your hair was slightly more messy and you press your mouth together softly when you’ve calmed down.

“Where are we…? Almost home?” You mumble and Jaemin looks up front with a smile seeing how your cab was at the red light.

“We’re at a red light, princess.” He whispers brushing some hair out of your face. Your eyes were tired and you manage to see up front the driver gawking his attention over at you both in the back seats while his eyes glued to you and the entire mess at the back of the cab while your boyfriend was having his hands possessively wrapped around your waist.

The driver shakes his head in slight disappointment and also shock knowing what you guys did there but he didn’t say anything. But you knew deep down some minor shame and at the same time your heart was shattering in embarrassment.

But your boyfriend? He had no shame. He was shameless and smirking as he squeezed his arms around you some more.

“Since we’re at a Red Light, can you give me another orgasm Y/n?” The shameless smirk on Jaemin’s face makes you think he must be the incarnate of the devilish spirit. “I think our driver wants to see more of you…”

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank youu! Reblog this fic and follow my blog for more!

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etherfabric · 5 months ago

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How the Universe provides for you + Songs

Choose a pile by which picture you resonate with the most.

If your mind is too busy to clearly decide, take a few deep breaths, and use the finger of your non-dominant hand to hover over the images. One will give off the most subtle yet prominent signals, like tingles, a magnetic pull, or temperature. This is your pile. Multiples are also possible.

You are the ultimate authority over your life. I merely provide my perspective. Sometimes the Universe lines you up with something that doesn't resonate with your truth, so you have contrast to find out what does. Never give away your power.

Pile 1

Strength, 3 of Pentacles

youtube

You have loyal allies in your challenges. A lot of unforeseen inconveniences you can't seem to avoid are in your energy, but this time, you feel the support - be it physical incarnations of kindred spirits, or those from the other realm connected to you. Yes, your heart is pounding and your knees are shaking, and these instances definitely aren't what you would've put on your wish list in a million years - but you surprise yourself with your bravery amidst it all. You thrive in collaboration with likeminded people, even in the face of your antagonists. The Universe is sending you storms so you can see how well you build your structure, and feel like the badass boundary expert your past self dreamed they could be.

This was a test, and you passed with flying colors. All your hard inner work is tangibly paying off, and you feel elated and proud - rightfully so.

Pile 2

Queen of Pentacles, The Fool

youtube

You finally stopped caring so much. You figured out where (or with whom) you lose the energy you so desperately missed all this time, and despite the struggles of letting go, you are now light as a feather. But in contrast to the past, where you were simply too scared to attach fully, so what else is there to do but float... you can now fall back on and draw from the deep roots you grew in fertile ground. Nourishment tailored to your needs is in constant supply, and plenty of opportunities to extend that generosity onto are emerging on the horizon. But this time, you know what to look for to have it reciprocated.

There might be people you still deem generally lovable you had to leave behind, and trust that hearing their criticism or seeing the effect of your absence on them will never truly stop hurting - but you know your worth and needs better than ever, and are determined to ultimately look ahead to the promising future. The Universe provides for all, and not just through you.

Pile 3

7 of Wands, 7 of Pentacles

youtube

The Universe is fueling your fierce protector side. You respect your own time more than ever, and see the value of patience with yourself. Your vulnerability is no longer a source of shame, it has become your most precious inspiration. Outside disturbances can't faze you out of your serenity with your true self. You worked hard for where you are, and you are not letting anyone counterproductive get close to it. Take the various toxic coping mechanisms projected onto you as the compliments that they are - you trusted in your balance, followed what felt right, and are reaping the rewards, while others still cling to the very same mindset that starts itching once you are around.

You understand the delicate relationship between healthy aggression and egotistical overkill, and are a role model for those wanting to follow you. The blessings you have already received are shining brighter than ever, and it's only the beginning. Isn't it so worth it being seen as the bad guy? Your people love you for what you are doing for them. No one can take this away from you, because you know how to keep it - becoming more authentic every chance you get.

Pile 4

2 of Swords, The Hermit

youtube

I can imagine you clicking on this particular reading with a kind of scoff. "Oh yeah? Providing for me? I see fuck all." Dare I recommend to expand your understanding in which ways one can receive...? I see you clinging onto promises you kind of already know aren't very, well, promising. But for some reason you only want it that way, almost to try to prove a point no one even challenged you on. Your idea of what you need and what you want have no space for differences inbetween. This might not sound pretty or comforting - I feel awfully confrontational saying this to you actually, and my Cancer Mars is shaking like a leaf - but I see the Universe providing you with an ultimatum.

Drop the rope if you truly want happiness (and not just validation for how great all of your ideas are), or be stuck in the frustration eating away at you. Look at what you already have. Yes, it's not the ultimate dream, but you have to first step inside of you to be able to receive. Because inside of you is where you will feel the love that's on its way to you - not craning your neck out as far as you can, desperate for a crumb to roll by.

#tarot reading #pick a card #youtube

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luveline · 1 year ago

Note

your spencer writing is so beautiful jadey! i was wondering if we could get some hurt comfort where reader really struggles after a case and he comforts her? <3

thank you ♡

Grief for other people can vary in strength. Ever present, occasionally numbing, tonight's case has left you neck deep in it, and the feeling needs to come out. Tears slink down your face in lazy rivers. You keep thinking you'll stop crying. Then you remember her hand, soft with newness and curled in death, and it starts again.

It hurts to cry. You don't attempt to stop; you don't think about it, or the team, or the heat at your side, you just think about the girl's hand. It's not fair. It's too much.

"It's okay," Spencer says. You know it's him without looking, his voice a familiar gentleness that reaches your ears despite the roaring-quiet nothing and your sniffles.

You turn your face away from him to hide.

He puts his hand on your thigh amicably, his tone encouraging as he continues, "If you don't calm down you'll throw up. What can I do?"

You suck in a shaky breath, an attempt to regulate feelings too big for one body, "Sorry, it's– I'm fine. I'll be fine," you wobble. You can't finish the second fine, a cry crushing it down.

Another hand touches you, fingers on your wrist and weaving down. He covers the back of your hand with his palm. It's not like Spencer, but it's not like you to cry like this.

Spencer doesn't tell you to stop crying or try to shush you. He'd told you once that he tries not to stop people when they're talking, because he knows what it feels like to be shut up. I wish people… I wish people would have more patience, I think. Sometimes I can't get things out the way others want me to, and I get that things are time sensitive, but. I don't know. If I have time to listen, I'll listen.

Listen to you cry, listen to your staggering breaths as you catch them. Patient, Spencer pulls your hand to his lap and draws letters into your wrist. You can't make out what he's writing, but you can feel the bumps and curves of Os and Ks. Maybe he's telling you it's okay, maybe he's writing out a recipe. Whatever it is, it calms you down.

"Do you want some water?" he asks as you still. He sounds pitying, sure, but he understands. His thumb rubs down to the middle of your hand.

"Yeah. Please."

He passes you a plastic bottle of water with the seal already broken. You have the wherewithal, then, to see where you are. The conference room is dark, and your teammates have given you the chance to cry alone, though they'd sent Spencer in to keep you company, it seems. You can see Morgan waiting out by the door like your bodyguard, and you're sure you can hear Hotch shouting. Or, not shouting, he doesn't yell much, but his voice is loud and terse. He cannot be argued with.

"I'm sorry you got the short straw."

Spencer puts an arm behind your back. "Actually, I had to fight Emily to be the one who gets to sit with you. And I can't fight, so it was more like begging."

He rubs your back. You forget that he's a man, sometimes, but you can feel the ridges of his arm, smell the woody scent of his deodorant as it stretches around you in a half hug. His awkwardness with women doesn't extend to his friends at any rate, and he hugs you with surety.

"You're one of my favourite people. I'm sorry you didn't know that. Holding your hand when you cry isn't a short straw," he says.

You lean into his shoulder. He murmurs a quiet, "Come here," as you do, his jaw pressed tight to your forehead.

"I'm so sorry," you say. To him and to someone else.

"It's okay. It's not your fault. You can't save everyone." He sounds near choking up with his last sentence. It's a grim and undeniable truth. No matter how hard any of you try, there will be impossible cases with twisting riddles for motivation and terror that fills every corner. There will be young girls who die, because there will always be someone waiting to hurt them.

"I tried–" You bite your cheek until it screams at you to stop.

"I know. There was nothing else we could do."

You turn into him completely, wrapping your arms around his waist in a vice. Spencer doesn't baulk, circling your shoulders, his breath tickling your ear where you squish your face against the collar of his sweater. The fabric bites your skin, a wicked heat returning to line your lashes.

Your back shakes under Spencer's hand.

"I know," he repeats, rubbing your back. "It's okay, Y/N, I promise. He can't hurt anyone else, ever again."

It doesn't make the crime any better. It won't bring back the girl you lost. And it can't erase the agony of knowing you failed her.

Spencer starts to talk. Simple facts, explaining grief. When we cry, it releases oxytocin. You feel better afterwards because of the chemical effects.

When you eventually do calm down, head pounding and chest aching, Spencer helps you clean the tear stains from your cheeks with a pocket pack of tissues, and you know it isn't the oxytocin that made you feel better, just a really caring man.

"Thank you for dealing with me. I know this wasn't even the worst thing we've seen, but I–" You clear your throat, determined not to cry anymore tears until you're back home. "I couldn't stop seeing her hand. I can't remember my hand being that small anymore."

Spencer gives you a smile. It's far from happy, a flat line with the slightest curve at the corners. "Some things are hard to forget. And we shouldn't forget them. But we have to keep going so we can balance it out. Or at least that's what I think."

You hug him quickly. "Thanks, Spence."

His hand twitches against the small of your back.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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nathabat · 1 year ago

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How they surprise you

✰ content: ## sfw , gn!reader (you/your pronouns used) ,

Bi-Han

The Grandmaster is terrible at surprises. Keeping anything secret is natural to him when it comes to the Lin Kuei and the assignments or information they have to keep under wraps. So why is it so difficult for him to keep things from you?

He wouldn't know how to describe it. All he knows is the anniversary plans he's had in the works since the beginning of the year, put together so meticulously, threaten to burst at the seams each time he's forced to bite his tongue to keep you none-the-wiser.

He tries to keep it simple, he's a simple man after all, but each gesture is still somehow almost sickeningly sweet and romantic to its core.

Flowers delivered straight to your hands whenever he is away, a freshly wrapped and prepared bouquet of Lilies, Chrysanthemum, and white roses. Sometimes offered to you with a little note attached, scrawled in Bi-Han's familiar attempts at elegance. Just a location, a time, and instructions to dress comfortably. His palms are almost sweaty as he waits for you, so terribly eager to finally have you all to himself after long weeks and hours of work kept you away from one another.

He embraces you first, sighing as his tensed muscles relax the very second his hand engulfs yours, his strong and callused fingers gentle as they intertwine with yours before he guides you into his arms, Where he'll finally be able to kiss and cherish you like he had been meaning to all day <3

"The long days are much easier when I have you to look forward to... Happy Anniversary."

The way your eyes shine with delight make the wait so worth it.

Kuai Liang

He's the opposite of his brother, but he faces the same temptations of spilling his well planned secret each time his chest tightens with excitement as everything falls into place. He knows the wait is the hardest part, yet he's able to keep himself under control until the time comes.

He can't have you finding the decorations he and Tomas bought and threw together themselves before your birthday. He usually takes up kissing and smothering you in his arms to draw your attention away from anything that pertains to the surprise he has been planning for months. Next time you go to snoop, you'll find the boxes you had found earlier had been moved or replaced with something else entierly.

He struggles being subtle though. Those packages he has high up and is super cagey about?

"It's nothing, my flower. Some old training equipment- Ah, no, you can't touch it. I can't have you getting hurt."

So maybe it isn't such a shock when you come home, exhausted from an assignment Tomas had eagerly dragged you away on proclaiming he needed your help specifically, just to find Kuai Liang amidst a mess of decorations that suggested a celebration just for you. Looking around, Tomas and others of the Shirai Ryu have suddenly disappeared, leaving you with your beaming lover. Who is so thrilled to have you home.

With his hands on your hips Kuai Liang draws you into him, thumb rubbing over your cheekbone as he cups your face in his warm hand. He presses a kiss to your forehead first before his lips trace down to peck the tip of your nose, and then finally your lips.

"Happy Birthday, my love."

Tomas Vrbada

He wishes he had the patience of Kuai Liang in moments like these. There's almost hundreds of times he almost caved and told you, the words dancing on the tip of his tongue. He's complained to you a few times about how hard it is to not spoil a surprise, but when pressed he clammed up and swiftly changed the subject while brushing off both your confusion and suspicions.

It's a week in the making, no special day or reason for it aside from the fact Tomas so desperately wishes to take you on a trip away from everything else. He has Kuai Liang's blessing, all that it hinges on is your agreement when he finally has everything settled and planned to a T.

"What? Oh no, my sweet, I promise it's nothing!!"

And since it's so hard to picture sweet little Tomas hiding anything from you, it's quickly dropped. But needless to say it's still painfully obvious what's going on the more he slips up and stammers as he recovers.

Getting everything squared away is what took the longest, especially going behind your back to talk to your boss and basically bribe them to get you that special time off, and the second it's agreed upon he's racing home to finally tell you. Shows you the tickets, explains his plans, all with a big smile on his face. He almost seems more excited than you!

You hardly get any packing done with Tomas pausing to steal a kiss and gush about how happy he is, and all the things he can't wait to show you and do with you.

"I'll make sure you have fun!"

a promise sealed with another kiss <3

Johnny Cage

He does his best to surprise you any chance he gets. Not just for special occasions, but for the times he misses you. Showing up at your work and accidentally causing a ruckus because... Well, he's Johnny fucking Cage. You get a lot of business that day, though you needed to have a talk with him about disrupting your workplace like that. He's toned it down, and by that I mean he juts sneaks around to see you without alerting the press or his droves of fans.

Shows up right when you're about to take a lunch break and insists on taking you out. He does this everyday he can when he's not shooting his next biggest hit, and he always makes it a point to take you somewhere new each time you ask him to pick a place. He knows your tastes afterall, and so far he's hit the nail on the head each time :)

He surprises you at home too. While he cant seem to follow recipes worth shit, he does spend a lot of time getting some cooking lessons or drops a lot of money on a private chef so you come home to a gourmet candlelit dinner. And his open arms, of course. You don't get four feet in the door before he's kissing you on the temple and taking your coat, incredibly insistent on pampering you.

Massaging your shoulders after you take a seat and explains the assortment of food laid out before you. Gives you another kiss before taking his own seat. And Cage is all smiles when he sees you take the first bite and melt in relaxation at the savoury flavours.

"You deserve it, babe."

Kenshi Takahashi

His heart squeezed up into his throat hearing that. He swore he'd make it better and he did. The next day was the surprise as he gently woke you with some breakfast he somewhat haphazardly threw together, paired with a long and sweet kiss. Maybe you expected plans in the future, yet Kenshi was quick to plan a whole day for just the two of you.

His work against the Yakuza becomes more and more tedious and time consuming as the days pass. He does well at surprisingly well at keeping his personal life and his work totally separate, but there's been times it bleeds over. Being woken up from your embrace by a call of a lead that required his attention. He profusely apologized and kissed your forehead as you groggily blinked your eyes at him, but he was already rushing out the door.

Maybe it's been expected that you came to him and communicated you felt a bit second place to everything else, your own responsibilities eating you alive. You just wanted to come home to him, but even that became rare.

He takes you to the farmers market and picks out stuff for dinner, squeezing your hand cheekily when you ask what it's for. You two have a great lunch at a noodle place he used to visit a lot, and he's happy to share anything on his plate with you before heading out again.

He keeps his cards close to his chest, sharing breakfast and then telling you to get ready. He doesn't say why, just offers you assurance it'll be worth it.

You like books? He took you to a library/bookstore and let you pick anything out. His hand on the small of your back as you walk up and down the aisles, squealing about this and that.

"You're my focus tonight, darling. I'll worry about it after dinner."

It's a busy day, and when you come home he's quick to get you to put your stuff away before making dinner with him. An old recipe he favors, warm and the perfect way to wind down after a day being out and about. His hands are on yours as he helps you cube up some vegetables, sliding down to grip your waist the second you get a hang of it. Sento is good help here, because Kenshi can't get enough of how your face scrunches when he teasingly places a kiss right below your ear.

And as his phone buzzes and rings on the counter, he's more than happy to ignore it.

Raiden

He tries not to get too busy to keep time for his beloved, and still manages to find ways to keep the spark alive. You're not sure how you still manage to fall for his surprises, but it's almost endearing how much effort he puts into each one just to see you get all hyped up.

He's learned to keep Kung Lao out of it since he's spoiled a few too many of Raiden's plans even if he meant well, and you ended up having to kiss the frown off your boyfriend's face. Not like you were complaining though ofc <3

What tipped you off this time was the fact Raiden had been especially cagey. In a way that irked you, setting a pit in your gut as he excused himself on more than one occasion for Shaolin or "Champion matters", as he put it. Yet when you called Cage, he gave you a confused response. Raiden was just as wound up as you though, trying his best to keep himself together as he sneaked around your questions with some help from Tomas or, regrettably, Kung Lao.

It helped that Kung Lao didn't know what was in store, he just knew to keep you busy as Raiden settled a terrace reservation with Madam Bo on a night the skies were meant to be clear enough to see all the stars in the sky.

Producing a velvety box from his pocket, he collected himself with a deep breath before popping the question;

Your own worries seemed to relax and take a backseat as Raiden surprised you with the dinner, even as you noticed his nervous mannerisms as you gushed about the scenery and all the delectable food. He was almost sweating bullets as Madam Bo sent him a knowing look when she came up to check how it was all going, before he quickly ushered her away.

You were just finishing your wine when Raiden cleared his throat, gathering your attention as he sheepishly spoke about what an amazing time he's had with you in his life. He held your hand cupped in his as he rattled on, less than composed as he got out of his seat and dropped to one knee.

"Will you marry me?"

Kung Lao

He's always boasted about his romantic side and all the dates he took you on, planning them well even if a bit messily. There's been at least a couple times he didn't account for things that came up, or forgot to ensure his time off was squared away and had to rush back for something just to seek your forgiveness later. His eagerness has its own charm, so it wasn't hard to earn himself back into your graces after whining and throwing himself into your arms with some kisses placed along your jawline before you'd giggle and tell him you were never mad in the first place.

Even when that meant stealing you away from home to surprise you, wrapping you up tight in a coat and then pointed up. There in the distance across the rolling hills and water was lanterns dotting the dark sky. It was a beautiful sight, one you always wished to see but only managed to sleep through every time it came around. Kung Lao wrapped his arms around you, chest against your back before he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

He really has to make an effort if he wants to surprise you though. You know him so well its hard for his plans to go over your head, but after a long week of you struggling with one issue after another he really tries his hardest. Just to ensure you feel better, because that's all he wants in the end.

It damn near broke his heart to have you curled up and crying in arms as he stroked your head and down your back until he lulled you into a gentle slumber, free from worries even if just for a moment.

It was little things at first. Risking being late to helping Raiden so you could sleep in and he could bathe with you when you finally awoke, rubbing your shoulders and lathering you in soap even as you mumbled concerns about him being late. He assured you with gentle kisses down the ridges of your spine, cherishing and comforting you until he couldn't stall any longer and he had to make a quick beeline out the door. He wasn't done yet though, because until he saw you smile he wasn't content to leave you to your own devices.

"I promise, one of these days, I'm going to take you to see those lights."

☄. *. ⋆

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illustromic · 2 years ago

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My thoughts on drawing wings (an unofficial tutorial)

Do you want to get better at drawing your favorite winged character? Do you have winged OCs? Just want to learn something new? I can't promise this post will help, but maybe it'll give you some helpful tips.

I know, I knowww, wing tutorials have been done to death. I don't care. This was initially inspired by a conversation on twitter, but actually I've wanted to write down my notes on the topic for a long time lol. Basically wings are one of my special interests so it's very important, for me, to draw them both nicely and also realistically.

On that note, let me first show you my resume *distant sound of floodgates opening*

Like what you see? Read on! (Oh, and I will only be covering feathered/avian wings bc those are the type I know best.)

Now, I'm not here to give you a step-by-step guide on wing anatomy and aerodynamics, because there are plenty of other resources that cover this already, and I'll list my faves at the end of the post. Right now, I'm going to give you some easy guidelines and tricks that I wish more artists knew.

1: Wings do, in fact, have bones (crazy, I know) and are actually very rigid because they have to support the weight of a living creature. There are some positions you cannot physically force a wing into irl.

2: Flight feathers are not placed willy-nilly on the wing, because then they wouldn't catch the air properly. Again, like the bones, they are rigid and strong, so don't draw them like fur or ribbons. All wings have the same pattern of feather placement, with slight variation depending on species. If you learn the feather sections, it will automatically improve your drawings a lot.

2.5: Feathers overlap each other like a handful of playing cards, and this looks different depending on which side of the wing you're drawing. They always do this unless they're extremely untidy.

3: The size of the wingspan is important if you're going for a more realistic design. There is no "scientifically accurate" measurement when it comes to fictional creatures, but my general rule is when in doubt, you probably need to make them bigger. Personally, for my original winged human species, I give them wings that can be up to 12 feet long each (the artistic sacrifice is that it's really hard to fit the wings on the dang page lmao, so make your own call).

4: Get used to drawing folded wings. Most of the time, birds keep their wings folded because it prevents them from getting damaged and it conserves energy. The trick is to get good at visualizing how the joints bend and overlap (look at plenty of photos!) In general, they can fold much tighter than you think.

5: Wings and feathers take a lot of patience to draw, but the results are worth it. I've seen so so many incredibly beautiful and skillful artworks that are---well, maybe not ruined, but still negatively affected by a pair of wings that look like an afterthought, or not even like wings at all. You have no idea how much a little extra time and practice will add to your work until you see for yourself.

Finally, some notes on "stylized" wings: Of course it's perfectly ok to draw more simplified/cartoony wings if that's your preference!! BUT there is a difference between a stylistic choice and a lack of effort/poor understanding of the subject matter. Even cartoonists have to learn the fundamentals of realism so they know how to make their designs logical and appealing. Here are some examples of more stylized wings that I feel retain the core principles of anatomy/aesthetics:

And last but not least: A list of helpful links I use personally for reference and inspiration!

I made this pinterest board for general artsy inspo, and this board to curate my very favorite tutorials/refs/information, focusing on the scientific aspect of wings and flight in general. Feel free to use both! (I also suggest pinterest in general for pose refs and such, but try to only practice using photos at first and not other drawings.)

I highly recommend this blog and this blog if you want examples of artists who draw more realism-based winged creatures!! They are both huge inspirations for me and I think you should totally follow them even if you don't plan to draw wings lol <3

If you're REALLY serious about it, my favorite ref books are: Winged Fantasy, a lovely drawing book by Brenda Lyons; Proctor & Lynch's Manual of Ornithology; and Angelus vincens by R. Spano, which is essentially an artbook by someone who (I believe) designed biologically plausible "angels" for their senior thesis.

Ok, idk how to end this lol but I hope it helped! I know it's not my normal kind of post but I'm super busy with college stuff rn and this was all I had time for. If you guys have any questions or feedback, please let me know!!!

-Aloe <3

#my art #wings #drawing #tutorial #the way I could've talked for so much longer haha #but it's 3 am for me and I am fading fast so GOODNIGHT

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alewritesfics · 1 month ago

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Hope

Happy marriage part 3

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word count: 4k

Summary: new hope blossoms and new starts commence

A/n: long time no see people! 😅😅😅 Sorry I went MIA but I got this done and decided to post it. Now I won't give an exact time on when I'll post because now I see I'm a little liar and I don't go through with my word 😶😶

I'm very sorry to leave you all hanging. But here's the last part of happy marriage and I hope you like it!

MASTERLIST Part 1. Part 2

“When I said I will give you a chance to make it up to me, I did not mean you had to follow me and be glued to my side everywhere I go.” You spoke annoyed, lifting up your eyes from the romance book you were currently reading. You had felt Anthony’s gaze centered on you for a few minutes now, you tried to ignore it but it felt so intense it was impossible to.

It was annoying, really, well maybe just a bit endearing, although you’ll fiercely deny it if anybody mentions it. Anthony really seemed to be trying to earn your forgiveness, he was more attentive than before, more understanding, a little bit more romantic as he now gifts you a bouquet of flowers every single day (something that annoys Lady Bridgerton as the maids cannot seem to find any more empty vases). But it was annoying that he seemed to follow you wherever you went.

A walk around the garden? Antony was walking behind you. You sit down in the drawing room to read a book? Anthony was seated next to you before you could even blink. A ball? He would always pull you into dances, something you couldn’t deny him of. Annoying, very annoying (You secretly love it, don’t lie to yourself).

“I know,” Anthony responded, meeting your eyes without any shame, “I do not mind following you around, it is quite…..fascinating, to be in your presence that is.”

You held back the blush wanting to come on to your cheeks at his words “Surprised you are just now figuring that out” You said, flickering your eyes back down to your book, pretending his words did not affect you in any way when the truth was that they did. “You know, it is not too late to give up now. You will not have my forgiveness from one day to the next.”

It was hard not to forgive him in an instant whenever he spoke sweet words, no matter how much you wanted to deny it, you still loved him, deeply. But the reminder of how much he hurt you and how much you cried over him washed away any sudden desire to forgive him. He had to work hard to earn your forgiveness, it’s not something you’ll give away easily towards him, not this time.

Anthony wasn’t deterred by your words, “There is something us Bridgertons are, and that is that we are stubborn, so i will not rest until I have fully earn your forgiveness, you have my word.” He said as he stood up, determination filling his words “Gather much patience and indifference as you can, darling, because I am going to be by your side until I succeed and I can see you are not as unaffected as you try to appear to be” He then turned around to walk out of the drawing room

“There is another thing I am bargaining for,” He stopped before he exited the room “and that is to earn back your love….no matter how long it takes” he said shamelessly before finally walking out

You swallowed harshly, your heart beating fast in your chest as you fully took in his words and the promise in them. You exhaled shakily, feelings you did not want to feel ever again trying to resurface. It is both horrible and amazing how much he affects you, whether he said cruel or sweet words, your traitorous heart always seems to beat faster to no one but him.

He felt so idiotic. For the first time in his entire life, Anthony felt like the dumbest person in the whole wide world. He could see it, he could see how much he actually hurt you. You were distant towards him, cold even, your eyes didn’t have that sparkle in them whenever you saw him, nor did you bend over trying to fulfill his every wish, not that he wanted you to, but there was this pain in your eyes, this hurt when your eyes met his which made him feel so guilty and dumb.

There is this saying that goes, you never know what you have until you lost it. Anthony felt like that. You was an amazing person and he felt like the dumbest person alive to not have realized that sooner. His mother was right from the start, you really are the perfect viscountess , the perfect woman….the only woman for him.

His only relief is that the pain that he previously saw in your eyes decreases with the time he spends with you. It gave him hope and he will not rest until that pain disappears completely and your eyes once again reflect love in them when you see him.

“Y/n” His face lights up, eyes flickering up when he heard your name, standing up from his seat as he saw you enter the dining room with a plate full of cookies, his reaction not unnoticed by his mother who hid her smile pretending to take a sip out of her glass of wine.

“Y/n,” Anthony said taking a step towards you before stopping and instead pulling out your unofficial assigned chair (which is coincidentally besides him, wink wink), one you haven’t sat on since your marriage crumbled.

You sit down on the chair, silently thanking him with a nod of your head “I made some cookies, they’re recently baked so they might be hot” You smiled, putting the plate in the middle of the table “I-“

“You didn’t have to.” Anthony said breathlessly, the thought that you accepted his gesture and was so close to him making his heart beat quickly, it felt as if it would snap right out of his chest. You were not completely ignoring him…

“I know, I wanted to” You say with a nod

“They look delicious.” Anthony said, not knowing what else to say to you, suddenly feeling as if he couldn’t muster up any idea on what to say to keep the conversation going.

“I hope that they are” You answer

“I am sure anything you make is amazing,” He said with a smile

You blink, now you were the one speechless “Thanks….I guess?” you say awkwardly. You heard Benedict chuckle from beside you, you turned to face him, giving him a glare.

“Ah no, do not mind me” Benedict uttered, taking a sip from his cup of wine “Pretend I’m not here, I just remembered something funny and it made me laugh”

You scoffed before standing up from your seat “I have to go get ready for the opera” you said “do not follow me” you uttered once you saw Anthony moving to stand up as well

“but I- I can-“ he groaned when he saw you leaving without another glance

“Anthony, go call Y/n and Hyacinth , the carriage is almost here” Violet Bridgerton told her son as she looked out the window

“No need” You spoke as you walked down the stairs, Hyacinth not far behind you

You let out a breath as you reached the ground floor, Anthony’s gaze immediately found yours as you descended the stairs. His eyes lit up, as though seeing you for the first time that evening, his breath catching slightly at the sight of you. You wore a gown of deep sapphire, its elegant lines flattering your figure without drawing too much attention, and yet, to Anthony, you might as well have been the only person in the room.

“Y/n…” He murmured, his tone soft, almost reverent. The man you had once known to be brash and commanding now seemed utterly captivated by your every movement. It would have been endearing if it wasn’t so infuriatingly persistent.

“You look beautiful,” he added, his voice lower now, as if it was meant only for you.

You offered him a polite smile, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “Thank you, Anthony.”

Hyacinth grinned mischievously from behind you, clearly picking up on the tension between you two. “Anthony’s been quite eager about the opera all week,” she teased as she passed by, giving her brother a sly look.

Anthony’s expression shifted into something more sheepish, a rare sight indeed. “Only because I knew you’d be there,” he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

You sighed inwardly. This was all part of his effort to win you back, but he couldn’t just charm his way through everything. Not after the pain he had caused. There was a deep well of hurt beneath your composed exterior, and no amount of flowery words or pretty compliments could erase it. You had promised yourself that if he truly wanted your forgiveness, he would have to work for it. He would have to see the depths of the damage he had inflicted.

“Let’s just get going,” you said softly, already moving toward the door where the carriage waited.

The opera house was a grand affair, as always. Chandeliers glittered overhead, the rich burgundy of the velvet curtains creating an opulent backdrop for the night’s performance. People dressed in their finest milled about, awaiting the start of the show, their chatter filling the air like a soft hum.

You took your seat next to Anthony, and despite the large crowd, it felt like you two were the only ones in the room. As the lights dimmed and the first notes of the opera began to play, Anthony leaned slightly toward you.

“I’ve never quite appreciated music as I do now,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft overture. His eyes, however, were not on the stage but on you.

You didn’t respond, focusing your attention on the performance. Sienna Rosso, the opera singer he had an affair with, had a voice that could command any room, but tonight, it seemed Anthony was deaf to it. His gaze never left you, even as the area swelled with emotion, which completely surprised you.

Throughout the performance, he remained close, his presence a constant reminder of the promises he had made. When Sienna reached a particularly moving part of her song, you noticed Anthony’s hand briefly brush against yours where it rested on the armrest. You quickly pulled your hand away, not wanting to give him any more satisfaction than necessary. The corner of his mouth twitched in what you could only describe as amusement, but he didn’t push further.

After the opera ended, and the crowd began to file out, you overheard murmurs from others in the audience. Most were compliments on the performance, but a few curious glances and whispers were directed toward you and Anthony.

“It seems Viscount Bridgerton is quite taken with his wife these days,” one woman said to her companion, not too far from where you stood. “He didn’t take his eyes off her once.”

You pretended not to hear them, but the words echoed in your mind as you followed Anthony outside. His devotion was clear, and while part of you appreciated his efforts, another part still held back.

The days that followed were filled with Anthony’s persistent attempts to be near you. He insisted on accompanying you during your walks in the gardens, even if you would rather enjoy the peace and quiet alone. You often found him sitting in the drawing room whenever you tried to read, as if his presence had become a permanent fixture in your life.

One morning, you entered the drawing room with your favorite book, intent on having a quiet moment to yourself. To no surprise, Anthony was already seated by the window, reading through some documents. His head lifted the moment you walked in.

“You don’t always have to be here, you know,” you said, trying to sound indifferent as you sat down with your book. You felt a sense of déjà vu as you remembered you said almost the exact thing days ago.

“I know,” Anthony replied, not looking up from his papers. “But I want to be.”

You shook your head slightly, unsure whether to be frustrated or touched by his relentless presence.

As time passed, Anthony’s efforts didn’t wane. Instead, they became more thoughtful, more personal. He began to ask about the things you can loved—books, music, even the small hobbies you indulged in. One day, he found you at the piano, quietly playing a familiar melody.

“I didn’t know you played,” he said softly, standing by the doorway as he watched you.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you replied, not looking up from the keys.

Anthony stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “Then let me learn.”

For a moment, you stopped playing and turned to him. His gaze was sincere, and for the first time, you saw just how much he truly wanted to understand you, not just win back your favor. There was a quiet desperation in his eyes—a longing to connect in a way that went beyond mere apologies.

“I’m not the same person I was before, Anthony,” you said softly. “And neither are you.”

He knelt beside the piano bench, his hand resting lightly on the edge. “I know. But that doesn’t change how much I want to be the man who deserves you.”

Anthony’s devotion became even more apparent during the next ball. You had agreed to attend, mostly to maintain appearances, but you had no intention of dancing with him. Yet, as the evening wore on, you found yourself in his arms once again, moving to the rhythm of the music.

The anticipation of the evening bubbling inside you. You’d worn your best gown—an elegant shade of deep emerald green that complemented your complexion beautifully, with delicate lace detailing that caught the light as you moved.

As you stepped into the grand hall, the chandeliers glimmered above, and the soft murmur of conversations created a symphony of excitement. You could already see a few familiar faces, including Anthony’s, who was talking animatedly with Benedict. As your eyes caught his, a smile crept onto his face, and it sent an unexpected flutter through your chest.

“You look stunning,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as you approached him. There was a sincerity in his tone that made your heart race.

“Thank you,” you replied, trying to keep your composure. “You don’t look too shabby yourself, Viscount Bridgerton.”

“You’ve really been making an effort, haven’t you?” you remarked, genuinely curious.

“I have,” he replied earnestly. “I realized how much I took for granted, and I want to change that. I want to understand you better, to show you how much you mean to me.”

His words stirred something deep within you. It was a mixture of hope and caution, the remnants of your heart still wary. “It’s going to take time,” you reminded him gently.

“I’m willing to wait,” he said, his voice firm yet tender.

The rest of the evening passed in a haze of laughter and shared stories, a tentative but genuine connection beginning to weave itself between you. Over the following weeks, Anthony continued his pursuit, each small gesture a reminder of his commitment. He would bring you books he thought you’d enjoy, spend afternoons listening to you play the piano, and even sought you out during family gatherings, always ensuring you were included.

During one particularly memorable evening at a ball, Anthony once again swept you into a dance. The music flowed around you, and with each turn, he whispered sweet nothings, his breath warm against your ear. “You look breathtaking tonight,” he murmured, pulling you closer.

“Flattery again?” you teased, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you.

“It’s not flattery if it’s the truth,” he replied, his gaze unwavering.

As the dance continued, a group of gentlemen approached, their laughter echoing with a cruel edge. One stepped forward, a smirk plastered across his face. “Well, well, if it isn’t the Viscount and his precious wife,” he sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. “I never thought you’d stoop so low after stepping out on her for that soprano. What a delight to see you back with the real prize. But then again, is she really a prize if you had to search elsewhere?”

The laughter from his companions was sharp and mocking, and your heart sank at their words. You could feel heat rising to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and anger flooding through you.

Anthony’s demeanor shifted in an instant. “If you’ll excuse us,” he said coolly, his grip on your waist tightening as he moved to lead you away. “Your lack of manners is as appalling as your lack of character.”

“Come now, Anthony. You can’t seriously think anyone would believe you’re happy here,” the gentleman continued, his smirk widening. “After all, we all know your heart is still with that soprano. Poor thing, she wasn’t simply a phase, was she?”

The cruel laughter of the group hung in the air, and you felt the sting of their words cut deep. Anthony’s protective nature surged to the forefront, his expression hardening as he glared at them. “Fun at the expense of another’s feelings is not fun at all,” he retorted, his voice steady but low, a clear warning laced with anger.

You watched in surprise as he stood his ground, the intensity in his gaze unwavering. “You’d do well to remember that she deserves respect, not your mockery.”

As the gentlemen backed off, their laughter fading into awkward silence, you felt a rush of gratitude for Anthony. “Thank you,” you whispered, looking up at him. In that moment, you truly saw the man he was becoming,the way he stood up for you, how he was learning to respect your feelings, and the genuine warmth in his eyes. It was as if a veil had lifted, and you could see the sincerity in his actions.

Your heart softened for him, the edges of your hurt beginning to blur. “You’ve really changed,” you added, your voice barely above a whisper. “It means so much to me.”

“Always,” he replied softly, his gaze searching yours. The intensity in his eyes was filled with an unspoken promise, a vow that he would continue to earn your trust and love.

As the evening wore on, you both enjoyed each other’s company, the space around you brimming with laughter and joy. The memory of the cruel words from the gentlemen faded, overshadowed by the warmth that radiated between you and Anthony. With each smile, each shared glance, you could feel the distance between you gradually closing, drawing you closer together.

You gently squeezed Anthony’s hand and leaned in close, your voice barely above a whisper, “Come with me.”

His eyebrows raised in curiosity, but he didn’t hesitate. You led him out of the ballroom, down the halls of the house, until you found a small, secluded alcove at the back of the house—a quiet corner where you could be alone. The air was cooler here, with the faint scent of roses from the garden outside, and the moonlight filtered softly through the window.

Anthony looked at you with concern, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what was on your mind. “Are you alright?” he asked gently, his voice filled with care.

You nodded, stepping closer to him, feeling your heart pound in your chest. “I’m fine, Anthony. I just… I wanted to talk to you alone.”

He looked nervous, as if he feared what you might say. His eyes flickered between yours, waiting, bracing. You took a deep breath, your fingers still wrapped around his.

“I’ve been thinking,” you started, your voice soft, “about everything that’s happened between us. The pain, the distance… but also, how far you’ve come.” You met his gaze, your heart swelling with the depth of emotion that had been building inside you for months. “You’ve changed, Anthony. Truly. And I can see how hard you’ve worked to prove yourself, not just to me, but to everyone.”

Anthony’s jaw clenched slightly, his brow furrowing as he listened. “I did it for you,” he said quietly, “because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you completely. You mean everything to me, Y/n. I know I’ve hurt you, and I’ve regretted it every day since. But I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears as his words struck a deep chord within you. He was baring his soul to you but this time, in the privacy of this small, intimate space, it felt even more real—more raw.

You reached up, gently cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over the stubble on his jawline. “I know, Anthony. I can see that now.” Your voice wavered slightly, thick with emotion. “And I want to give us another chance.”

His eyes widened, surprise flickering in his gaze, followed by an overwhelming rush of relief. “Y/n… are you sure?” His hand covered yours on his cheek, his thumb caressing your skin as if he was afraid you might disappear.

You nodded, stepping closer until your bodies were almost touching. “I’m sure,” you whispered. “I want to be with you, Anthony. I want to move forward together. No more walls between us.”

A soft breath escaped him, as if he’d been holding it in for far too long. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion. “I love you, Y/n. I’ve always loved you, even when I was too foolish to realize it. You are everything to me. My heart, my soul… I don’t deserve you, but I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret giving me another chance.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but they were tears of joy, of hope, of finally letting go of the past and embracing the future. “I love you too, Anthony,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Despite everything, I never stopped loving you.”

The moment hung between you, charged with emotion, until Anthony, unable to resist any longer, gently cupped your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft at first, tender, as if he was afraid to push too far. But as your hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer, the kiss deepened, becoming more passionate. Years of unspoken feelings, of longing and heartache, melted away in that single, soul-stirring kiss.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together, the weight of the past lifted from your shoulders.

“You’re mine,” Anthony whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m yours, forever.”

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you nodded, feeling the warmth of his love wrap around you like a blanket. “Forever,” you agreed, your heart full.

Years later, the memory of that night remained vivid in your mind, a turning point in your love story. Life had changed for the better, your marriage growing stronger with each passing day. You and Anthony had built a beautiful life together, filled with laughter, love, and the joy of your growing family.

On sunny afternoons, you would find Anthony in the garden, playing with your children—two boys and a girl—who adored their father with all the fierce love you had once felt when you were a child. He was a different man now, a devoted husband and a doting father, and every day he made good on his promise to you.

One afternoon, as you watched from the porch, you saw Anthony scoop up your youngest daughter, spinning her around as she giggled uncontrollably. Your heart swelled with happiness, and you realized how far the two of you had come. The man who once made mistakes was now the man who never let a day go by without showing you just how much he loved you.

Anthony caught your eye from across the garden, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. He smiled, his eyes filled with the same love and devotion that had been there that night in the alcove, when you decided to give him another chance.

And you knew, deep in your heart, that it had been the best decision you had ever made.

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x you #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #colin bridgerton #lady danbury #lady whistledown #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagine

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impishjesters · 1 year ago

Text

Agents of Cat-astrophe

warning(s): none unless you count Jax note(s): This gave me a good chuckle as someone who's consistently dropping more curse words than regular words, I'd imagine the system to just censor anything and everything that comes out of my mouth at that point. A/N: (In response to the requester) I wish I was taking breaks (I mean I am sorta), I'm fully aware I'm running myself ragged right now. But it's hard for me to stop myself... I'm caffeinated and chaotic and I don't wanna stew in my brain for too long. At least I get up and stretch every now and then. Request: Anyways, I’m requesting a Jax x reader (crushing stage) where the reader is sorta at the same level of meanness as Jax and likes to do pranks with him on the other characters. Also the reader’s digital form is a short cat that at first glance makes them look nice/friendly (obviously not an actual cat but yk what I mean), and they have a sailor’s mouth that is unfortunately censored but that doesn’t stop them (can also purr and does so when they’re content which is usually when there chilling in Jax’s room or with Jax in general). I think it would be fun if the reader surprisingly was sorta nicer to Kinger and has a small soft spot for him and does more playful pranks on him than mean/harmful ones.

When you first showed up, you looked so small and frail, like a literal little kitten completely out of place in this big colourful nightmare world

Ragatha thought you’d be like Pomni, and boy howdy was she wrong

You just ended up being another Jax—who you later met and found out was also an agent of chaos

Similarly to Pomni you cursed up a storm when you first arrived and the endless censorship that came with it

You have a knack for testing Caine’s patience when it comes to your sailor’s mouth, much to Jax’s entertainment. It’s not every day Caine loses his cool like that and you’re just a newbie, needless to say, you caught his interest

That sailor’s mouth also gets used towards the other’s and Jax won’t lie and say it’s not funny because shit’s hilarious.

Sure they all curse from time to time, but you just laid out an entire sentence that was completely and utterly censored. Like the system said “fuck this I’m gonna censor the whole damn sentence”

Unlike Jax who doesn’t show any remorse for who he pranks or how cruel they are, you draw the line at messing with Kinger.

Okay, that’s a lie you still mess with him but it’s not like how you mess with the others. Kinger has this sweet unstable dad/grandpa vibe and it kind of makes the place more homey in a weird way. (plus that man has been through enough trauma, give him a break, and talk about his bug collections or some shit)

The upside is that his mind is so scattered sometimes that using the same pranks on him always results in something hilarious. So you really don’t need to try for any new material. (he also really needs to consider actually using the lock on his door, he makes it too easy)

Jax considered you his little partner in crime the more time passed—not exactly a friend nah, but like a good ol pal that also likes to partake in joining him and his bullshittery

The first time he hears you purring is when the two of you are lazing about in his room, he’d gotten distracted collecting things for a prank on someone and heard the loudest rumbling coming from behind him

“Are you fucking purring?”

It’s a little embarrassing at first, you’ve uh, never done that before..

Jax has the biggest shit-eating grin, if he wasn’t using dumb cat-themed nicknames before he sure as hell is now

“Oh, like you don’t stomp your feet like a petulant child you overgrown rabbit.”

He does not stomp his fuckin feet like a temperamental rabbit, thank you very much (that’s a fuckin lie if I ever heard one)

Jax already had mixed feelings about you before, nothing particularly bad, just feelings he couldn’t place…that was until the prank…

He doesn’t know how you did it, or how he got so wrapped up in it. But you pranked him, and you pranked him good.

Oh, oh okay that feeling is new… butterflies don’t typically belong inside your gut, now whether Jax has ever experienced a crush before or not is probably beyond him. But these little butterflies are a bitch and it takes awhile of placing two and two together to realize he’s… caught feelings to some degree

You, however, probably had a crush on him for a while, perhaps really noticing it after the whole purring fiasco when you learned that it only happened around Jax

#the amazing digital circus x reader #tadc jax #the amazing digital circus #jax x reader #jax #tadc

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stormsthatrage · 1 year ago

Text

Short snippet from the Bleach I Knew You AU.

But before I begin. *Insert deep sigh here.*

Secretlypansexualmango, if you see this, it was supposed to be a response to your ask. Unfortunately, it took a hard left-turn and ended up in. Uraichi shipping territory? Look, IDK, I'm asexual, I don't get it either. Anyway, since I don't know your shipping preferences and don't want to accidentally respond to your ask with something that squiks you, I will be officially responding to your ask in another post that is less likely to be unexpectedly unpalatable. Thank you for your patience, and, uh, I hope this doesn't turn you off the au! (*laughs nervously*)

Without further ado, the snippet:

Breaking into the Shiba family grounds is easy. By sheer comparison, breaking into Shiba Ichigo’s room specifically is almost a challenge, but it’s not anything that Kisuke hasn’t planned for.

The strange, modified kido, and the odd wards Ichigo has placed, are simple to bypass with a bit of fancy footwork and precisely-timed counter-kido. It’s practically child’s play to get past them, now that he's roughly figured out how they work and where they all are.

His job is made even easier by the fact that, for some reason, Kisuke’s spiritual pressure doesn’t wake Ichigo up. Quite the opposite, in fact. He seems to sleep deeper when Kisuke is nearby and has let Benihime out a little.

He has theories about that.

He’s tired of them being theories.

He’s here to get evidence.

Kisuke bypasses the final seal and slides Ichigo’s window open, slipping into his room. He lets his spiritual pressure permeate the air a little thicker than he would in normal company, and as expected, Ichigo’s spiritual pressure slows down as he falls further into slumber.

… And Kisuke is supposed to believe that the first time they met was two months ago? When this is Ichigo’s reaction to his presence? When Ichigo is one of the most paranoid people Kisuke, an ex-onmi agent, has ever encountered?

Kisuke is a genius. He doesn’t need to be in order to see the flaw in that logic.

Kisuke steps further into the room, gliding softly over the old wood floorboards. He pauses in the middle, taking a moment to debate where to start.

Well. Why not with the simplest?

He’s caught it a few times, the barest trace of his own power lingering around Ichigo. A fascinating phenomenon, when he can’t recall a single time he’s drawn shikai around him, let alone used enough power to leave a long-lasting trace.

He draws closer to Ichigo’s bed, until he could reach out and touch him if he wished.

Ichigo breathes deeply, evenly, no sign of waking up. At some point, his covers ended up half kicked-off. Possibly from the heat, probably from nightmares. Regardless of the reason, Kisuke can’t help but think that he looks strangely fragile this way, surrounded by the evidence of his restlessness.

He puts a hand on the the hilt of his soul-partner. “Awaken, Benihime,” he murmurs.

She stirs within him, gently, in a way that is oh so rare. Like the softest, most gradual of ocean tides, she rises, her fragrance of wet iron washing through the air around them.

And together, channeling her power through his eyes, they see.

Glowing crimson threads that they have no recollection of weaving wrap protectively, lovingly, around Ichigo. A thin but strong filament, sewn through the skin from just below Ichigo’s ear all the way to his opposite shoulder, sutures closed what must have once been a deadly throat wound. Another one, obviously originally meant to keep shut a gash down the length of Ichigo’s forearm, keeps it companion.

And beyond the battlefield sutures there are more threads. Hundreds of intangible and deceptively thin and absolutely unbreakable strands of Benihime’s power wrap around Ichigo, crisscrossing over themselves — around his throat and across his face and down his torso and up his arms, visible wherever his bare flesh is exposed — seemingly serving no purpose.

Benihime’s power surges at the sight, a hot delight running through her as she sees Ichigo so thoroughly caught in her webs. Kisuke’s fingers suddenly, urgently ache with the urge to touch, to tighten, to add more.

Soul King.

No purpose other than, it seems, to satiate their own possessiveness.

Kisuke exhales a shaking breath. Closes his eyes for a brief moment. Gets the heat in his blood under control.

No purpose other than to alert themselves, perhaps? Did they know that one day they wouldn't recognize Ichigo anymore, and left this as a clue?

(And oh, what a clue. What a clue it is.)

He lets Benihime’s power fade, taking his hand away from her hilt. He’s self-aware enough to know when he needs to stop tempting himself, and he’s gotten the evidence he came for — far better proof than he could have ever anticipated.

He takes a step back, and the motion is the most unnatural thing he’s done in a long, long time.

He has questions. He has a few theories, too. Amnesia, caused by a very specific type of parasitic hollow. Dimension travel. Time travel. He doesn’t have enough information yet to figure out which is most likely, but he has finally confirmed beyond doubt that Ichigo is his, has been his, and something tried to steal that from him.

Fury flares within him, burning through his veins, and he can’t do this right here.

He takes another step back, this one just as unnatural as the last.

He can’t ask, yet. He can’t get closer, can’t wake Ichigo up with a soft hand on his cheek, can’t tell him that he’s there now, can’t promise him to take care of it all if he would just let him in again.

No.

Shiba Ichigo is in the middle of a chess game — a dangerous one, a complicated one — and Kisuke can’t see the whole board yet. Tipping his own hand might trigger a whole plethora of traps, including another round of amnesia, and he refuses to risk the knowledge he’s regained.

He will have to be careful. He will have to move cautiously.

He casts one last look at Ichigo, lets his eyes trace over that delicate throat that he now knows almost bled out. That delicate throat that had to be held together with Benihime’s webs. That delicate throat that he doesn’t remember stitching back together, despite the fact that he used his bankai to do it.

He was made to unknow a person he loves. He was made to unknow a war. He was made to unknow the fact that danger lurks still in the shadows of Soul Society.

He will know the end of this game. And Ichigo will learn that there is no universe in which Kisuke does not protect what’s his.

Kisuke turns. Takes another unnatural step away from his favorite, infuriating puzzle. And then he wrenches himself out of the room, out into the night, closing the window behind him and leaving as unnoticed as he had come.

#i knew you bleach au #bleach au #time travel bleach style #urahara kisuke #kurosaki ichigo #*sigh*#uraichi #might walk this part of the au back if people prefer a non-ship version

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sminiac · 1 month ago

Note

xikers (hyung line) reaction to reader being so desperate to give them head

MINJAE

It can be inconvenient sometimes, he tends to get aggravated if it’s at just the wrong places, but Minjae always ends up enjoying it despite his best efforts to hold you off until he’s finished with his work.

He’s been trying not to feed into your never ending defiance, but the more frequently you come back in his room —crawling into his bed with an oversized shirt inching over the slope of your ass, revealing the cute pair of panties under it— the more his patience starts to fall short.

He huffs, ticked and hot, shoving the right side of his headphone behind his ear. “Stay in or out, would you?” His eyes don’t stray from the screen, not when he’s already been taking peeks at your body when your head is turned away. He has enough self control for that, at least. “Sorry!” You hurriedly whisper, curling up against his pillows, the shirt scrunching up at your waist as you rest a leg over his upper thigh. “Distracting you?” You ask over the frustrated clicking of his keyboard, rubbing your leg against his.

“A lot. Knock it off please, I have a deadline I need to avoid.” He taps at your feet, a silent request to not get him hornier then he already regrettably is.

Minjae assumes you’ve gone still behind him when you bring your leg back, not even a rustle of his sheets is heard and with him being fully focused on his laptop he isn’t aware of how close you’ve carefully inched yourself closer. “Must be really important, Minnie’. I’ve been trying to catch your attention for almost an hour now.” Your hands stop at the tops of his shoulders to briefly squeeze and rub before connecting in front of his chest, pressing wet kisses along the juncture of his neck, he angles his head to the opposite side, widening the space for your mouth. “I know. You’re so- move, annoying.” You smile, knowing you’re triumphant as he shoves back his open laptop with his foot and makes room for you between his legs. “Jus’ wanted my dick to entertain you.” He tsk’s, hooking his thumb into the band of his sweats and the briefs under. “Wish you just fuckin’ told me.”

Remainder of members under the cut!

JUNMIN

Thinks it’s sweet how adamant you are about getting his cock into your mouth. 9/10 he’s incredibly willing to let you get under his clothes, even when he’s still soft he’ll let you lick him hard if that’s what it takes, he loves giving you what you want!

He doesn’t expect a thing when you walk into the living room, so unknowing and sweet, surely anyone else could pinpoint almost the exact reason as to why you’re suddenly not so interested in your phone anymore.

“Hey, you busy?” The question is simple enough, Junmin doesn’t see anything wrong with the formality although being unnecessary. “No,” his head raises, pretty doe eyes blinking up at you. “do I look busy?” Your lips purse, shaking your head as you round the couch to tuck yourself into his side. “Just wanted to be sure.” At first Junmin’s almost bubbling with mirth as you slot an arm behind his neck to brush at his hair with your fingers, your other hand resting in the centre of his chest. He melts into your touch, nosing his way into your neck, only realizing how sleep deprived he truly is once feeling your warmth after being left by his members to finish watching a movie he doesn’t care about.

The tips of your nails drag ticklish over his upper body, evoking sleepy endearing noises from his mouth when the shapes begin to draw further down. “Gonna, fall asleep…soon.” He murmurs, adjusting his head on your shoulder as your fingers make way under the hem of his shirt. You pause a moment seeing the indents of muscle beneath, earning an annoyed grunt when the pleasant scratching against his scalp stops too. “Jun’ honey,” you call softly, “would you mind if I sucked you off, even though you’re sleepy?” His voice pitches up with a small frustrated thrash of his body. “Baby ‘m not even hard, won’t that—” a yawn cuts him off, his warm breath against your skin making it tingle and buzz. “be, annoying? Could get walked in on, not even in our room.”

You nod, ears full of cotton, panties even stickier than it was a minute ago. “Not annoying, jus’ let me please, need you in my mouth Jun’.” He feels your fingers adventure below his navel, slipping under the band of his underwear and then quickly brushing against the base of his cock. He sucks in a tight breath, his chest stuttering and legs quickly bent at the knee. “Put- put it in your…mouth, please. Makes me, makes me really hard seeing.” Relieved with how quickly you heed his ask Junmin adjusts himself in a way that makes it easier for you to put him in your mouth as your knees stabilize on the ground. Your tongue is gentle as you ease him in, so warm it makes his jaw clench as you lightly circle at his pink bulbous head. “God- won’t matter if I’m hard, ‘lready feels good.” His fingers curl up tightly into a fist then flex almost painfully with each stroke of your tongue, his heels digging into the ground as he lovingly strokes at your cheeks whilst watching the way you slowly take in a few inches, then pull back to let him see the remnants of your saliva. He stiffens up quite swiftly, and it doesn’t take long before he’s asking for more.

SUMIN

Surprisingly very pliable. Whatever you want, he wants, so there’s never a reason to be concerned of if the timings right. He loves the impromptu excursions that are made solely just to get eachother off, so Sumin’s always incredibly prepared whenever you are.

The thing you love about these cramped little rooms is the noise proof padding that decorates the walls, it makes certain activities much easier, more stress free for those certain times being now- when you’re dropping to your knees as soon as the doors clicked shut behind you, that no one else can hear Sumin’s breathy voice as he asks “‘s all you wanted?” While thumbing softly at your cheek, uncaring to watch the way you eagerly adjust the denim out of your way. “needy girl, just wanted my dick in your mouth, hm? That’s why you came?”

Your hasty response is sufficient, he already knows how embarrassed it makes you- the extent of your own willingness to get anything you want, but he soars knowing that it also includes him. Sumin doesn’t taunt you while you’re taking out his already hardened length, he just watches with lidded whilst pushing his leaking tip closer to your face. “C’mon then, need it don’t you?” He lures you in closer with a weightless hand on the back of your head. He sighs seeing the way your tongue pokes out from behind your lips, glossy, soft as you slap his tip against the relaxed surface of it. Seeing the smear of his precum decorate the pink muscle makes his chest feel hollow, tightening against his rib cage. As soon as your wet mouth fully envelops him Sumin decides then that he couldn’t be more content with his decision to get out of the practice room when he did, because the way you so easily make a mess, struggling to fit as much of his dick as you can past your glossy lips, is much more satisfying than any kind of result he could earn from tirelessly practicing.

“S’good, fuck you’re so hot, baby- can’t, I can’t.” His hand leaves the back of your head once you push him past a certain point in your mouth that’s softer, smoother, almost tighter- than the rest. His sudden grasp at the cool metal of the door handle is so strong that you’re scared he’ll accidentally pull it open from how desperately he grips at it, trying to hold himself back from coming down your throat so early. Your pace is dreadful, agonizingly slow, but with each nudge at that soft spot in the back of your mouth the higher you put him away from crashing down into his orgasm. “God, gonna make a fuckin’ mess ‘f you, make me cum- do it, shit…”

JINSIK

Torturous, it’s absolutely ridiculous how quickly you diminish his resolve by the lightest touch, an effortless word. He wants to be mean, standstill and resilient to your cunning wrath of teasing, but even when he thinks he’s making progress, he only lasts for so long.

“So you don’t want me…to?”

You’re confused. Seeing the effect of your words —dare you say your very existence— right in front of you, yet persistently being denied the pleasure of taking care of him? It isn’t quite clicking. Jinsik on the other hand thinks that he’s so smart for ‘teaching you a lesson’ after the countless troubling instances that you’ve made him hard. ‘Time and place!’ He’d cry, yet so willing fuck his own fist to get rid of the evidence just so you wouldn’t know of how greatly your mindless actions impact him. The only problem is that right now, you know. You know what you’ve done and you’re as stubborn as ever. There’s no scurrying down the hall and into the bathroom without you tailing him this time.

He spins in his chair to face the monitor again, leaving you to sit with an annoyed roll of his eyes. “No, Y/N. Not when you’re being…like this.” The tone of his voice makes you raise from his bed, shoulders rolling back against a blanket that Jinsik had placed on you, your chin high. “Oh? And what does ‘like this’ mean, ‘Sik?” He sucks in a breath from his mouth, exhaling heavily through his nose, troubled by your defensiveness. “Baby I don’t know…cunning? I guess? Intentionally making it hard for me to exist without getting horny? It’s embarrassing and you need to tone it down so that I can—”

“Focus?” You finish, making him jump from the unexpected swing of your leg over his lap. He quickly gives up, licking his lips and begrudgingly looking at you with a hand moving to rest around your waist for cautionary reasons. “What’re you doing now, I just said not—” “Not right now, I get it, stop being so sore.” You settle yourself over his thighs, thoughtlessly brushing his hair back. “Stop cutting me off then. Y’know—at least, pretend that you’re listening to more than what you want to hear.” You nod, humming as a hand rests against his chest, “I’m all ears.” You say, attempting to inconspicuously seat yourself over his erection. His hand shifts down to your ass, tapping twice against you before he pulls back. “Just get down there already please.”

HYUNWOO

It can never just be you on the giving end of the line, he refuses, despite the copious amounts of energy you’ve completely depleted from him. There’s a silent notion Hyunwoo follows that whenever you’re craving a fill of your mouth that only he can supply- then he’ll absolutely need something to keep him busy post-orgasm, too.

“Don’t.. need to, sweet girl, fuck- swear you don’t.” With every wet twist and drag of your soft palm around the width of his cock the deeper his breaths graciously build into. Hyunwoo squeezes his eyes shut, his back sticky against the pillows stacked behind him, pretty mouth dropped open for quick little huffs of air. “Can cum, I can, baby I promise—!”

The day was long, very long and incredibly tiring, the last thing he wanted was for you to put in the extra work to help him shed of all the nagging worries provided from your shared endurance. “Please don’t, hnngh god- worry.” Your slick hand squeezes at just the right places, your ears hot and unconvinced hearing the desperate gasps and cracks of his voice. His only struggle is that it isn’t your mouth. You aren’t convinced for a second that this is enough for him to cum again, but he insists that there’s no further reason to overdo it. His hips push himself up off from the bed, unsteadily fucking himself into your fist, dirtying your fingers with the remnants of his sticky cum.

You suck at your teeth, seething yet decided. “Just let me, Hyunu, know you want my mouth just as bad as I wanna give it to you.” His hips lock, a choked sound coming from his mouth. “Stop- stop, ‘m okay…please.” You feel him twitch just at the mere mention, how he tries to collect and store himself away from the thought. “Love your mouth, wan’ it, just let me, ride this one out ‘nd…my mouths, ss’holy fuck— all yours.” You’re both desperate, and tired, there’s no point in drawing this out any longer. Firmly you grip the base of him, inching forward to press your month onto him, and he can’t watch as you gently envelop him, an arm covers over his eyes hoping it’ll set him a few steps back from immediately coming. “Jus’ take all ‘f it, baby. My god, please- use your mouth.”

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st-danger · 11 months ago

Note

Ooo that thing you just wrote for @/forlorn-crows is a sick idea, normally I like stuff so I can read it later but that was a READ NOW BITCH type deal.

Gives me the idea of Aether going into people’s minds and giving them wet dreams

The new kid's insatiable. It isn't like it's a problem for anyone- on the contrary, they're delighted by it. They're no strangers to sex and lust in the Pit, but here, in humanesque bodies, it's a foreign experience. Different in ways that are difficult to quantify, but different. The obsession with new sensations in new bodies is a universally known thing, something they all went through when first summoned. And who could blame them?

But what a treat getting to watch it from the outside. How nice to watch him sweat and tremble and take until it hurts to be touched.

Aeon is easy.

Pliable. Suggestible and willing to try whatever anyone suggests. He desires with a fierceness that sees him crawling into bed with Dew late at night, desperate for relief. Sees him staring at Swiss during mass with dark eyes, bouncing his leg, unable to sit still, and Swiss is more than happy to drag him out after and lend a helping hand. Or mouth.

So. Aether offers, and Aeon agrees, and that as they say, is that. It's never brought up again, and he knows Aeon wants to ask when, when can we, but part of the fun will be doing this when he doesn't expect. In the meantime, Aeon cums from all the attention he gets, and rubs his cock until it's red and sensitized, and even a little past that.

He's lovely when he's awake- crooked teeth revealed with every wide smile, constantly smoothing messy hair off his face. He's lovely when he's asleep, too, sprawled out on the couch or the bed, shirt riding up to expose a stripe of stomach, eyes closed. Long lashes. Of course Aether was going to offer. When someone wraps a present for you, sets in directly into your palms, it would be rude not to open it. Cruel, even.

He lies sleeping in his bed in loose boxers, a thin white shirt. Half under a blanket having kicked part of it off at some point. Aether flicks the table lamp on and carefully, so carefully, sits on the bed beside him. He's out like a light- it's possible he's worn himself out (or, more accurately, been worn out by someone else) to the point he's less asleep and more comatose. Lips parted, drooling a little on his pillow. Aether swallows hard. He tingles in Places. His fingers itch with want. He wishes he had more patience, that he could convince himself to undo the bow and carefully remove the wrapping paper, but he's never had much self control with this, to be honest. He tries, but here, now, with the way he looks... surely it's understandable to want to rip the paper open as quick as possible.

He reaches towards him, strokes his hair, playing with it. Twirling the shock of white that cuts through the brown at his hairline. Lets the smallest little bit of his magick drip from his fingertips and into his head so he can make sure Aeon doesn't wake before he wants him to. He drags his fingers down the side of his face, tracing the angle of a sharp jaw, stroking down his neck. With his other hand, he palms himself, working himself up just a little. Not too much because he has plans for Aeon that require him not to pop too early.

Down his neck, down his chest to find a nipple, to give it a soft rub until it's peeking through his shirt, obvious. Down further, to the hem, where he slides it under and caresses his stomach. Pets his navel, and then the barest hint of hair that disappears under his waistband.

The magick flows easy, then. Warms him from the inside out and Aether watches, ensorcelled by the gentle noise Aeon makes on his next exhale. The obvious twitch of his dick stirring to life. If he wasn't so eager to wake him up and ask him to run that pretty tongue over his balls, he'd draw the blood south slower. But not tonight. He squeezes himself, presses on Aeon's belly, and stares, hungrier than he's felt in a while as Aeon's cock fills out. Faster than is necessary, perhaps, but who cares. Certainly he doesn't. Certainly Aeon won't be complaining.

He's tenting in no time, and Aether supplies him with visions of being taken. Being loved gentle and raw, and finally, Aeon whimpers, hips shifting while he dreams about many hands peeling his clothes off, mouths sucking his neck, tongues licking at secret, hidden places. A little more phantom sensation on his cock, and Aether groans as a dribble of precum dots the fabric, stretched against a head that he cannot wait to make sticky and overly sensitive.

It goes on until Aether's working himself and hard to the point that he's dying to pull it out. His pants are tight, oppressive. It's making him ache, and all he can focus on is what the little kitten licks he's going to ask him for will feel like.

He turns the dial of quintessence up, and Aeon gasps, unconscious and pleasured, leaking fluid and staining his boxers with the pre because Aether wants him to.

They've kept his balls so empty there's been no possibility to cum in his sleep yet. His body hasn't had a chance, and maybe that's the reason Aeon was so quick to agree- something new.

He gets him nice and close, until Aeon is whimpering, shifting where he lays, and Aether gives up.

He forces too much pleasure into his mind, and Aeon throbs and moans and Aether's eyes go wide as he watches his cock start to bounce around and spit out shot after shot, soaking himself-

Aeon wakes up moaning and disoriented halfway through, barely has time to register what's happening when Aether decides to give him a little gift of his own, drag it out, make it last unnaturally long, until Aeon is crying out, thrashing, looking at Aether with surprise and shock while he defiles himself by Aether's suggestions.

When it's over, when it's finally over and Aeon lies exhausted, and panting, he gifts Aether with a disbelieving giggle.

"What," he breathes, weakly.

Aether is already standing, unzipping his pants.

#st-speaks #ghost #the band ghost #ghost fanfiction #ghost fic #ghost headcanons #aether ghoul #aeon ghoul #phantom ghoul #aether/aeon #aether/phantom #aether x aeon #aether x phantom #nameless ghouls

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kiss-me-cill-me · 9 months ago

Note

i’m not sure if anon has already requested a character for that song but if ur up for it CAN WE HAVE THAT SONG WITH JONATHAN CRANE. also i just listened to that song for the first time in like 3 years and got major deja vu lmao 😭

also ps i love u and ur writing !!!

This is related to another ask from an anon, requesting a fic based off of Katy Perry's song, The One That Got Away. I am so sorry to both of you that it's taken me forever to write this, but thank you for your patience and support <3

Now We Pay The Price | Pt. 1

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Life hasn't turned out exactly the way you wanted it to. Isolated and distraught as you watch time slip by while you sit, trapped in Arkham, your only wish is to recapture the way that things used to be.

Warnings: Angst, whump, sexual themes but no explicit smut, mental health themes, obsession, unhealthy relationship dynamics, mention of needles, mention of sedatives, unrequited love, established past romantic relationship, ambiguity

A/N: I hardly ever write angst, so please be gentle with me lol. But with the song inspo, I couldn't help but go in that direction. Slightly nervous to post this, but also happy that I've branched out from my comfort zone a bit!

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Lying on your stomach, feet in the air, you stretched the thin cotton sheets with your hand. Just enough to give them the tension you needed to glide a ballpoint pen over the fabric, scratching over and over the same mark to make it appear complete. This was far from the perfect medium for doodling - but sheets were what you had, and so they were what you used.

Even the pen was contraband. You knew you weren’t supposed to have it. What anyone thought you’d do with it… honestly, you had no idea. As if you could use a pen for anything other than what you were wrapped up in doing now - carefully and determinedly drawing hearts.

You stopped to rest your head for a moment on the pitifully thin pillow. Across the room, blank white concrete stared back at you. Day in, day out. Endless. The same room with the same walls.

Picking up the pen again, you placed the tip right in between the lobes of one of the many hearts. Scratch, scratch, scratch. A messy, zig-zagging line bisected the doodle.

Broken.

You sighed, and started to color a different heart, filling it with blue ink that didn’t seem very inclined to stick to the bed sheets. It was slow going. The deep azure tint reminded you of deoxygenated blood, like you would see in a textbook diagram. Once the heart was completely filled, you moved dutifully on to the next.

A rustling at your door made you jump. Quickly, you stuffed the pen under your pillow, and turned up the sheets to hide your drawings. It wouldn’t be very good for you if anybody saw them.

You sat up, arranging your rumpled jumpsuit as neatly as you could. Leather straps hung off the sides of your bed, and you spared them a glance, bristling at the memories of having them lashed over your body.

The metal door slid open slowly, until you could finally see…

Him. Your heart skipped a beat and a half as he stepped stiffly into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. He didn’t make a show of locking it, but it was still all too hard to miss the way his hand stopped short at the keyhole, before slipping into his pocket.

“Jonathan. I’m so glad-”

“Don’t call me that,” he bristled. “In here, we don’t know each other. Please. You always forget that.”

“...Dr. Crane,” you corrected yourself.

His tone was so bitter that you could feel it in the very back of your throat, trying to claw its way down to your heart. You swallowed, trying to bite back the taste.

“I’m sorry. I was just happy to see you.” You smiled, pushing through your discomfort, for his sake.

Crane was clearly agitated. He took a few steps into the room, before turning around and facing the door. For one brief moment, you couldn’t see his face, until finally he turned back. His eyes were ice as they stared down at you.

“Do you have any idea how difficult you’ve been making things for me?” he spat.

The accusation hurt, of course. Though you knew very well what he meant. You had been acting out, more than usual, as of late. And although it wasn’t without a purpose, you could see that it was wearing him thin. But… how else were you supposed to see each other?

Arkham Asylum wasn’t exactly known for its model patients. It took a lot to get Dr. Crane’s attention.

“If we spent more time together, I wouldn’t be so difficult,” you replied, trying to keep your tone even.

Crane pinched the bridge of his nose, in that way that you were well acquainted with. He’d always had that habit. Back when you’d first met, you had loved making him get frustrated - just enough for a laugh. Some things never changed.

“You’re really backing me into a corner,” Crane sighed. “And I really wish you wouldn’t.”

“Let’s talk,” you offered, patting the bed. “That’s what you’re here for, right?”

Crane, reluctantly, sat down. You could sense his exhaustion in the way that he almost collapsed onto the bed, hands gripping the edge for support. You inched a bit closer, enough so that your knees touched briefly. Crane pulled away.

You wanted to reach out; put a hand on his shoulder, just like you’d done so many times before. He used to like it when you touched him. Sometimes, you liked to think that yours was the only gentle embrace that he had ever known. Maybe it was silly, but the thought of it always made you feel better.

Now, Crane’s eyes held nothing but menace as he glared over at you, as if you were a stain on the bed sheets. You wondered, vaguely, what had happened to change things.

So much. So much that had led you to this place, where you could be so close to him and yet felt more separated than ever.

“I hate to say it, Doc, but I think I’m going crazy in here,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

He barely had a reaction; a deep sigh the only hint that he’d heard what you said at all.

“And why do you think that is?” he asked, finally.

The psychiatrist in him always came through to shove even more distance between you. Like a shield, put up just when you’d started to press through the fog of tension that hung heavy in the room. You swallowed your frustration at being kept out, and tried to answer him honestly.

“Because I barely get to see you,” you replied.

That was the wrong answer, and Crane’s shoulders swung abruptly to face you.

He was scary like this. Almost scary, anyway. If you didn’t know him better, the look in his eyes would have sent you cowering.

But you did know him, so well, and you remembered with sudden clarity that he’d always been bothered by feeling inadequate. You felt awful; you hadn’t meant to imply that he wasn’t doing enough.

“I’m sorry,” you soothed, before he could say anything. “I know that you’re busy, but-”

“But you continue to make yourself into a problem,” he hissed. “You know the only reason you’re in here instead of rotting away over at Blackgate is because of me, right?”

You nodded, too shocked by embarrassment to speak.

“Then for my sake, why don’t you act like it?”

“I’m…” You paused for a moment, sharp tears welling up in your eyes. “I’m just… lost without you,” you whispered. “You know that. I always told you I would be.”

The first tear fell, and you tried to hide your face.

“Don’t cry,” Crane sighed.

You could hear the harsh tinge of annoyance in his voice, and wished that it was anything else. Even his pity would have been better than knowing that your feelings were now nothing but inconvenience. You choked on your own throat, trying to stifle a sob.

“Please don’t cry,” he mumbled, slightly softer this time.

But now that you’d started, you couldn’t make yourself stop. If anything, the tears were only coming faster, and you felt yourself start to shrink into your own chest. The little black pit that always seemed to sit there, now swiftly opening up to swallow you.

With a deep and lingering exhale, Crane pulled you close. Suddenly, you were back where you both had been, so many years ago: one person’s cheek pressed into the other’s shoulder. Tears soaking into fabric that seemed to be stained with sadness. You let out a half-laugh, half-sob, and nestled into the crook of his neck.

“Remember when I used to do this for you?”

Crane stiffened slightly beside you.

“Things have changed since then,” he muttered.

Your memory suddenly flashed back to the first time he had used the words “dysfunctional attachment” to describe you. That had hurt worse than anything else. Even more than all of the other occasions to come, when you’d heard those same words and worse fall from his lips. They could never truly compare to that first time, when your whole world had come crashing abruptly to the ground.

His arm dropped away from you, but you kept your face pressed into his shoulder.

“Things haven’t really changed,” you said. “I still belong to you.”

“You don’t.”

Two words that stung worse than hundreds of needles. You tried to pretend that the wind hadn’t been knocked out of you, as you replied.

“I do. And I will. Always.”

You looked up at him with wet eyes, a trace of the old life that you’d shared together still evident deep within your pupils. Even if only the memories of it lived inside of you, they still lived. They were still something.

“You need to move on,” Crane said flatly. “I know it’s not easy in here, with me…” He sighed. “I did what I could to protect you, but maybe it would have been better if I had just stayed out of your case. Blackgate would have at least given you distance.”

“I don’t want distance,” you whispered. “I just want to be with you.”

“You can’t be.”

Always so stubborn.

“I could be, if you’d help me get out.”

Confusion flashed across Crane’s face, quickly replaced with raw terror.

“Escape Arkham?” His eyebrows furrowed, nearly knitting together. “You can’t be serious. Do you even realize what-?”

“I know, I know,” you hummed. “But just think - we could run away together, just like we always talked about.”

“Stop.”

“Don’t you remember? We promised-”

“Things. Change.” Crane’s voice almost shook as it thundered.

You brought a hand up to his face, gently coaxing until he looked at you.

“But they don’t have to,” you breathed.

Your eyes drifted down to your wrist, to the space just below your thumb, and over the little tattoo that was etched into your skin. A heart - just like the ones littering your blanket, hidden carefully from Crane’s view.

“Remember when you gave me this?” you asked, holding up the tattoo in front of him.

“No; I remember you doing that to yourself.”

“At first, sure,” you chuckled. “But then, you helped me to finish it, ‘cause-”

“Because I didn’t want you to hurt yourself,” Crane muttered. “Just like you always seem to. Even now.”

You ignored his remark as your hands drifted down to collect one of his pale wrists, then lifted up to your face. The sleeve of his suit jacket slipped back, revealing the spot where once, long ago, you had given him the same mark. Just with a felt-tip pen; he would have never allowed you, even back then, to deface his own body in the same way you had yours.

At the time, the impermanence of it hadn’t seemed to matter. You’d been too distracted; elated by the way that his and your matching blossoms of ink had pressed up against each other as you’d held hands.

Now, you pressed a kiss to the blank space.

“Us against the world, Jonathan. Remember?”

Suddenly, his fingers pressed into your face, digging into the sides of your chin as he forced you back into focus.

“Don’t call me that,” he warned, once again. “How many times do I have to tell you? That life doesn’t exist in here.”

Your hands still dangled from his wrist as he continued to crush your jaw, not letting you look away. But this was the one part of him that you didn’t want to face. The part that didn’t need you anymore.

“Jonathan. You know the reason I’m in here, don’t you?”

“Are you asking if I know about your case? All of the crimes you committed?” he huffed. “Because yes - I was very involved in the trial, and it was nearly impossible to keep everyone else in the dark about…”

Us was the word that he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“That’s not what I mean,” you said. “I mean, do you know why I did those things?”

“Stop - please don’t tell me this again.”

“I did them for you,” you cried, your emotions getting the better of you again. “I do everything for you. So don’t you dare pretend you don’t need me, when really the only fucking reason you’re not stuck in here with me is because I always-”

“Stop.”

Crane’s hands tore away to grab you by the shoulders, wrenching you back to reality. Somehow he always managed to do that. To pull you straight out of the riptide, just as it was about to sweep you away.

“I never asked you to do what you did,” he hissed, articulating each word between clenched teeth.

“But I did it anyway,” you spat. “Because you always get into trouble. Because I told you I’d be there for you, no matter what. And because I always keep promises.”

“I don’t need you to anymore.” Crane’s hands squeezed you uncomfortably. “I don’t - I didn’t need you to ruin your life for me.”

“My life isn’t ruined if it’s for you.”

“Jesus Christ…”

Crane’s hand came up to rake through his hair, but before he could pull away fully, you caught him. Fingers clenched tight to the front of his suit, you pulled back and forced him to fall with you. Your back hit the bed, and Crane scrambled to catch himself before his full weight could slam into you. His body perched just above yours, caging you in his arms.

“This. You must remember this.”

Your words were a whisper, barely loud enough to pass from your lips to his ear, despite how close he was. Your legs frantically came up to tug at his waist, trying to force him closer.

“This was the only time I felt alive,” you continued. “When we were like this. You remember.”

How could he not? You could still live in that moment, if you tried hard enough. As if it had been only yesterday. Both of you nervous and fumbling, nearly falling off of the bed as he hovered over you and you clung to him.

The way that your bodies had melted together, almost desperately, in a way that had made you feel certain that neither one of you would let go. Letting go then had meant something worse than death; it meant a life that dragged on without you and him together.

The stale echoes of passion still rang in your ears as you looked up, silently begging for him to rekindle the spark that had been there.

Crane’s expression was all but impossible to read. His face half-hidden beneath bangs that fell into his eyes. The two-second pause was like a lifetime as you awaited his answer.

“Of course I remember.”

Your heart soared, flying recklessly up.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s the same now.”

Broken. Smashed hard against the cold floor of your cell.

“I don’t believe that,” you breathed. “I can’t. I-”

“You need to,” he interrupted. “Because it’s the truth.”

You stayed stock still on the mattress as Crane briskly pushed himself up, disentangling himself from your limbs. He exhaled as he tugged at his jacket, trying to make himself presentable.

You weren’t sure how he could find the nerve, after ripping your whole world apart.

“I’m upping the dose on your sedatives,” he informed you, still not meeting your gaze. “But I would prefer if you could find it within yourself to behave so that I don’t have to. I don’t like to do this, but-”

“Appearances…” Your voice drifted through the room. “Have to be kept up.”

He had told you as much, probably dozens of times. Just like he’d told you the old life between you no longer mattered, or even existed. If it ever had.

“I’m glad you understand,” he said shortly.

His back was already turned, but you looked up to watch him drift out of the room, quickly pocketing the keys on his way out.

Your head fell back, hard, but the sensation did nothing to ground you. You felt all too lost and adrift; trapped in a situation you had created. This wasn’t how things were supposed to end up.

Your hand drifted silently under the pillow, and wrapped around the barrel of the pen that was still hidden there.

Suddenly, grotesque understanding of all the reasons why no one would want you to have such a thing flooded into your consciousness. The possibilities were many and bleak, but they all led back to the same conclusion. It was just like you had told Crane earlier.

If your life together didn’t exist in this place, then the only solution was to leave.

You smiled. With resolve swirling dangerously inside your veins, you vowed to make sure that nothing like this ever happened again. You were going to be together, no matter what.

There would be no getting away.

This fic now has a Part 2! Read it HERE

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #cillian murphy x reader #angst #LemmyFics

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rosemaze-reveries · 2 months ago

Note

This is going to be a heavy request, so if it's not your cup of tea please feel free to delete this or not acknowledge it, please.

That being said, would it be okay to request a comforting scenario involving at least Norton with a reader who struggles with SH? And if I had to push, maybe Ithaqua and Luchino as well?

On a separate note, I love your writing and blog. Your past posts are both entertaining and comforting to read. I don't use Tumblr a lot but I check back in to see if you and a few other blogs have updated. Thank you for your time, and I hope you're well.

this kind of comfort fic can be hard to come by, i know 🥲 thank you for the req and the well wishes♡ same to you

inspiration hit for luchino first so i'll post his for now. the others will be linked here as they get finished. they won't all be this heavy on the medical care, i promise!

luchino diruse x you he dresses your wounds; you worry you're a burden to him

⚠️ graphic SH wounds, medical treatment (stitches)

Luchino’s ears prick at the sound of your footsteps.

He could hear you from a mile away—one of the perks of being part-reptile—as you sidestep the creaks in the floorboards, careful not to draw the attention of any curious night prowlers. He hears you pause at his door, your fist hovering above the wood, mustering the strength for that impossible knock. This happens occasionally. Sometimes you decide against it and retreat back to your room. Luchino never stops you, just like he never tells you that he’s been counting each of your visits, even the ones you think escape his notice.

Just when he thinks the silence has lasted a beat too long, his gaze drifts to the door, and it creaks open without a knock. Apparently you’ve decided to skip over it altogether. Not that that bothers him; he was hoping you’d choose him from the start. You’re slow and deliberate when you push the door in, giving him time to protest if he needs to. He doesn’t.

“Still awake?” you whisper.

Luchino is sitting in his reading chair. It’s the only lit corner of his room, with an open book in his lap and an apple core browning on the table beside him. Clearly he’s retired for the night. The sight of it makes your stomach churn, as you know you’re disturbing his quiet evening, but you’re not sure what else you expected. He flashes you a tender smile.

“As a matter of fact,” he says, closing his book and passing it to the table, “sleep has abandoned me entirely. Staying here tonight?”

His question doesn’t hear its answer. You wander into the room, shutting the door behind you. It wouldn’t take a fool to know you’re a little out of sorts—you haven’t even acknowledged him, and your eyes sweep the room erratically, trying to land on anything but him. Luchino watches you with curious patience. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek. Best to just get it out with.

“Stitches came out again,” you say.

He doesn’t bat an eye. “On their own?”

“Mhm.”

As he stands up, your legs stiffen, hanging under you like lead. All you can do is send him a glassy stare when he comes to inspect your arm. Luchino had just refitted your sutures a few days ago, after their first instance of “falling out on their own.” He’s well aware that wasn’t really the case. Even if he won’t admit to it outright, you know he knows, and you both keep the lie going anyway. He’s considerate like that. Or maybe he’s just placating you. Blaming sloppy stitches should be a blatant insult to his medical expertise, and Luchino is far from unskilled with the needle. Even so, this is one detail he never questions you on.

He curls his fingers gently around your wrist. You’re wearing a loose nightshirt with sleeves that reach your elbows. Somewhere in the back of his head, he finds it unusual that you’d walk around the manor with your forearms exposed, but he reasons that this was urgent enough to warrant an exception. It’s a grisly sight. Frayed silk knots dot your skin, all tattered and picked at, and the wounds between them have begun to pool again. He heaves a sigh as he examines it all. Guilt spikes through your throat.

“I could go find Dr. Dyer instead,” you offer, already trying to pull away. Luchino’s gaze flicks up from your arm. The eyes reflecting back at him are wide and winded and pierce straight through him, as if afraid of something he can’t see. He cups a warm hand around the base of your neck.

“This is nothing you and I can’t manage,” he says. His thumb tenderly traces over your cheek. “They won’t heal as neatly as they might’ve before, that’s all. Wait in my chair.”

He releases you to rummage through his bedside cabinet, where he fishes out some ampoules and a leather tool bag. You don’t move right away. The longer your eyes linger on Luchino’s frame, a burning sensation prickles over them, but no tears want to fall. He turns around with an armful of medical supplies.

“Are you feeling faint?” he asks.

“Kind of,” you admit. The dizziness hasn’t whittled away your consciousness yet, at least.

“Well, I’d rather not have you testing gravity today. Sit down.”

His chair is still warm from his late-night reading. You watch him clear away his book and the apple core before spreading a cloth on the table. You’re thankful he’s able to stay so calm each time this happens, chatting with you as if this is a practised routine. But he surely can’t be ecstatic about having extra work to do this late. Work that could’ve been avoidable, at that. The guilt clouding your mind wins you over again.

“You’re too good to me,” you murmur, eyes drifting to the floor. “Do you ever regret it?”

“Being good to you?”

“Putting up with me. I can’t imagine it’s been fun.”

“No,” he agrees, unraveling the leather bag. “Seeing you this way grieves me in a way I’ve never known before—hold out your arm.” One of the ampoules contains some kind of clear fluid, an anesthetic he made himself. He breaks off the neck. “But I’ve never considered this to be ‘putting up’ with you.”

“Would’ve been easier to find someone who doesn’t have all these problems.”

“And lose out on you? Not a chance, my dear.”

That cheeky pet name prompts you to shoot him a glance. He ruffles your hair.

“Too good to me,” you mutter again, looking away.

“One of the many pitfalls of being in love, I’m afraid.”

Forceps, scissors, needle and thread. As he lays out the rest of his equipment, your heart skips a beat. This is always the worst part. You always forget how much you dread it until it’s right in front of you. Watching him draw a syringe of that anesthetic, you instinctively squeeze your thighs, clenching your jaw and fists to steel your nerves.

It takes two doses to numb each stitch. Luchino says he’s working on a stronger anesthetic, one that can be ingested, or at the very least one that numbs a larger area. But he is staunchly against the idea of using you as a lab rat, so you’re not sure how far along its progress has gotten. For now you’re stuck with this method. You suppose you don’t hide the unease on your face very well. All he needs is one look at you before he reaches for the foot of his bed. There he grabs the crumpled shirt he wore earlier that day, balling it tight and holding it to your lips.

“Open.”

Thankful to have something to bite down on, you roll your eyes to the ceiling, toes curling off the floor.

Luchino works quickly. You can’t bring yourself to watch, though. He finishes dressing your fresh stitches in thick layers of gauze. You’re sure it’s to deter you from picking at them again. At least for another night, you think, but you refuse to voice that thought. You murmur out an awkward thank-you for treating you.

Instead of answering Luchino keeps his gaze fixed on your arm. It’s silent and scrutinizing, lost in thought. You know that look in his eye—he’s caught on to something. You quickly jump up, trying to sidle past him, but he catches your arm.

“(Y/N),” he starts, standing with you. You don’t say anything. His fingers find your sleeve and slowly begin to roll it up your shoulder. There’s no hiding this from him anymore. He’d figured out your patterns a long time ago. You can’t stop your secret from being exposed, but you can keep your gaze locked on him, searching anxiously for a flash of annoyance, exhaustion, bitterness—anything to reveal how much of a nuisance he finds you. Surprise, you think. More work for you. Aren’t I inconvenient?

Luchino lets no indication of his thoughts appear on his face. All he does is trace a gentle finger alongside a barely-congealed string of blood. These ones are new. There’s a long strip of them, neatly in a row, just a few hours old.

“They’re not too deep,” he observes. “The bleeding’s already stopped. I’ll bandage them now.”

He smoothes down your sleeve and looks at you for a moment. Then he lets out a sigh, drawing your body into his chest. You let him hold you, not quite returning the embrace.

“Will you find me before this happens next time?” he asks.

You don’t answer.

#idv x reader #luchino diruse #luchino diruse x reader #identity v x reader #idv professor #evil reptilian #identity v #professor x reader #evil reptilian x reader #idv imagines

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