#every waiting moment is killing me with anticipation

[leisplayhouse]

pov: the cast recording aint out yet so you convert the youtube recording to an mp3 and add it to spotify

[gutsby]

Ruined!

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel is an old man who struggles to cum sometimes. You’ve got time to kill and a tight hole to fill.

Warnings: 18+. Peepaw brainrot + a dash of anorgasmia. Unprotected p-in-v, cockwarming, age gap, daddy kink.

Note: Finals are whooping my ass left & right. This is a quickie.

Word count: 1.2k | Part of the Waiting Game ‘verse

Surely he was hurting you now.

Joel Miller had a kink for many, many fun activities, but splitting a sweet young thing like you over his cock to the point you were almost in tears was just not one of them.

At the same time your poor, surely-bruised walls pulsed around his hardened length, he felt a pang of guilt. His balls were pressed against your ass like two lead weights, soaked with the remains of your third release, and his mind was at war with itself—keep fucking you like this? Pull out and offer his sincerest apologies for not being able to cum? A boy your age would’ve never had you waiting around like that, aching around his cock, much less begging for something as simple as a cumshot.

He decided to go straight to the source. Leaning over your prone body on the bed before him, he was careful not to rut his hips or jostle his dick around too much.

Joel pressed a hot, stubbled kiss to your cheek, then:

“‘S’it too much, baby? She need a break, maybe?”

Joel thumbed at that space where your body ended and his began and nearly lost his mind to the pearly-white slick that had accumulated with time. Two hours time, he had to remind himself while you moaned and writhed and bucked your ass back. Your cunt was choking him.

Crying, too.

Your eyes flew open the moment his words reached you.

“You kiddin’ me, Miller?! I could do this shit all day.”

Sometimes Joel forgot you were only in your twenties. Really, the thought only occasionally crossed his mind in moments like these—or when your father, his best friend, happened to bring you up—but when it did, it hit him hard. You were young. Lively. Surely far too spry and full of life to be messing around with a man as old as him.

Joel’s guilt ran almost commensurate with his pleasure when he felt you anchor your feet on the bed and start to fuck yourself back and forth over his still-throbbing dick.

Almost.

He planted a hand beside your head and grinned. He let you fuck him. Felt you pull off, crawl up the bed a little, then beckon him back to your body, where your ass was now pointing up and your back was arched in invitation.

Almost.

“You know I can’t sleep without your cum inside me.”

And you made a point to spread your knees and look behind you with a smile as sweet as Milo’s tea, fingers drumming a beat against the bedspread in anticipation.

“You do wanna fill me up, don’t you, daddy?” you teased.

Yeah, no. The guilt was gone. Joel could worry about being a depraved old man when he was done cumming.

Then he was back inside you, driving his hips until every last inch of him was wrapped snug within your wet and velvety embrace, and he sighed. A real protracted one, like the kind he was liable to exhale after climbing two flights of stairs, or else just hoisting himself off the sofa. Or lifting you in his arms and fucking you hard against the hood of his Bronco. Any time. Any place. You were kind enough to oblige him with the best cardio of his life, so the least Joel could do now was make you cum again.

He snatched your hands up in one of his own and placed your wrists at the base of your spine. With his other, free set of fingers he took to rubbing your clit gently.

“SON OF A—”

“—good girl.”

You let out a bloodcurdling scream into your pillow and secretly hoped this man’s dick would never deflate again. Not with the way he was sawing his thing back and forth and dragging you to the edge, circling your clit like you were the single most precious thing in the world to him.

“Oh, sweet pea, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Like he could feel the tears staining the cushion himself.

“Mmrooonme,” you cried into it, voice garbled by cotton.

“What’s’at, honey? Can’t hear ya.”

Joel then bent at the waist, pretending to be leaning in to hear you better, when really he knew he’d be digging in your guts with that big, bulbous head of his and making you squeal again. Hands still held captive behind you, you inched your chin back on the pillow so your moans could be heard even louder while Joel sped up.

“You— ruined me,” you repeated. Now clear as ever.

Joel tried to hide his smile and glanced down between your body and his. Then, while his ring finger joined the other two to make their tight, light circles, he returned,

“Ruined? Pussy feels just fine t’me.”

You’d kill him if he wasn’t so good at this. You turned your head more to meet his eyes from the corner of yours.

“No. Ruined me. For anyone else.”

Probably forever.

“Good.”

You knew he liked it that way.

You saw it in his eyes. Felt it in his touch. The hefty, broad, and greying Joel Miller had been loafing around on this earth long enough to know how to claim what was his. When his hips knocked yours to lay you flat on the bed, you already knew what was coming next.

First, his arms came to rest on either side of your body.

“Shit,” you whimpered.

Next, his lips went trailing down to your ear.

“Just a little more, sugar—that’s it,” he murmured while his hips sank in, and you felt that big, delicious stretch.

Then he released your hands so they were free to squeeze the sheets, and when they did, his moved over them—lacing his fingers through your own—and his lips pressed a kiss to your jaw. He held you in a tender grasp. His breath was hot on your neck, and the whole of his body was blanketing yours. Joel knew you liked it like that, which is why he made sure not to leave an inch of space in between. He was grunting, rutting, holding you close while his cock drilled a maddening pace inside you.

“You ruined me too, y’know,” he mumbled into your skin.

His nose was flush with the side of your cheek, nudging inward. Begging you to turn your head just a little more so he could kiss you. Weak as you were, you obliged.

And you moaned against that grey, stubbled chin of his when the thrusts above you had your cunt grinding the bed, rubbing that soft and helpless nub on the sheets.

“C’mon— let daddy have it,” he growled, “Let daddy have it and make it his, huh? That okay by you, baby?”

It was.

More than okay, as confirmed by the orgasm that tore through your body moments later while your teeth sank into the flesh of Joel’s lower lip and your cunt clenched and soaked over him whole. Joel wedged his tongue in your mouth and fucked you through it. His broad and callused hands were like iron around your own, holding you tight and keeping you still amidst a maelstrom of pleasure that combed over your every last nerve.

He licked into your mouth. Licked over it. Took the sick and distinct pleasure of knowing no one but him got to see you like this, with your jaw hanging slack and your eyes rolling back and your whines repeating quietly, ‘Daddydaddypleasedaddyfuckohfuckdontstop.’

Maybe ruined wasn’t such a bad thing to be at all.

[goteique]

| ALL I WANTED + GOJO SATORU .

+cw. — female!wife!reader x clan-head!husband!(sub)!gojo satoru, arrange marriage, hurt, angst, canon typical elements, smut, f!masturbation + m!masturbation & orgasm interruption.

+wc. — 2.3k

+syn.— satoru comes home from a bunch of missions only to find his wife in their shared bedroom not wanting him, or waiting for him but busy seeking pleasure that was his share to pour into you.

+notes. — special thanks to @gojoest for hyping me up with this idea. & thanks to @sugurouge for beta reading otherwise this never get posted lol | redirect to blog navigation.

The current head of the clan you belong to, your father stands facing his back to you. He is now the housemaster, not your father. “You’re going to be married,” said he, as his palms remained tightly clasped at his back while he looked out through the window. What you once called home became a distant memory in an instant. “You’re going to be married—” as his face turned towards you, “to Gojo Satoru.” you could figure out why he was looking away. “That monster!” he screams tears streaming down his face as his lips tremble in rage and disbelief; how of all people did the marriage broker who has been his friend for a long time have even agreed with such a decision? The thought of him suggesting the idea to the council does not even cross your father’s mind. How utterly naive! a low grunt followed as your father swatted away his chair knocking it down to the ground before killing every bit of hope you had despite the rumors. “This marriage. . . it is nothing but a hopeless dream. ”

Yes! You knew that already. The housemaids and staff just love to gossip about the doom of their sole source of bread and butter. The moment your father summoned you into his study room and told you the news while staring at the greenery of the garden of this mansion you knew your life was going to turn upside down and it did, just like you expected yet you were still disappointed, frustrated even when you came back to your room. 

Satoru Gojo is the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in history ever known since Sukuna Ryomen was sealed. No other name has ever made it to the pages of jujutsu history. He is at the top of the jujutsu society regarding status, power, fame, and money. So, what do you do with the strongest of all? worship them out of devotion? subdue them with offerings lest it might lash out? swearing loyalty out of fear? Those were the thoughts that stemmed at the back of your mind when you first came to know about the fact that you were going to be the wife of the Gojo Satoru from a maid whose life never even crossed the threshold of your home. Her world was limited to the mossy parts of the mansion you resided in. Still, she could tell what kind of marriage you would be walking into.

Nothing shocking happened even on the night of your wedding. It was just as you anticipated. Two different futons were kept side by side. There was no sharing of words, glances, or kakebuton . Just both of your backs faced each other. At dawn, you woke up with your wedding kimono intact, a stainless white futon, and an empty room without Gojo. 

The maids here knew better than to talk about it, even behind your back. They were aware of the power and status you held and that made everything a lot worse than you expected it to be. You had access to a lot of things, the family history archives, the financial sources, his previous missions— everything tied to him. Your husband, Gojo Satoru, was the clan head as well as the master of this mansion so there were no elderly people pushing responsibilities onto your shoulders like back at home. There was a sense of serenity in the air but how could you breathe it in for the rest of your life? 

Satoru Gojo was the kind of man whom one could easily desire. Despite being his wife and the future mother of his children, trying to love him felt like a cyanide for you. You wanted your husband, not some Satoru Gojo oozing with knowledge and power. You wanted to look him in the eye, not just his back which you barely get a glimpse of at the crack of dawn as he occupies the sad side of the bed under a separate duvet. In earlier stages of this marriage, there was no curtain separating you and your husband’s side of the bed but after a month of utter silence and stealing glances, the first thing he installed was a curtain in the shared canopy bed. If he needed some privacy he could easily ask you to shift into another room but he bothered to talk one of those clan servants to install a fucking curtain as if the silence was not enough of a gulf in between you two. 

Sometimes you thought that he was cheating on you but you always pushed it under the rug telling yourself, “You’re the wife of Satoru Gojo. No one can take that from you unless you walk out of this marriage. Not your father. Not that marriage broker —”

— Not even Gojo Satoru himself because he only married you to silence those nosy elders of his clan who pretend to be oh-so-worried for him. You were not foreign to that concept, after all, you are wrapped in the same shroud for all your life.

“You’re the wife of Gojo Satoru . . .No one . . .” 

“You’re the wife of Gojo Satoru . . .” 

“You’re the wife . . .”

“You’re . . .”

But the thought of getting his dick sucked by some other woman or man, or him putting his dick into someone — it filled you with too much anger to sleep in bed that night. For the first time, you miss home because there you are free to go anywhere even at night. 

Satoru came home early that night, which was odd for his schedule, and was greeted with an empty bed after a long while. The sky is yet to be cracked open by sunlight. It is still too dark to be wandering around. Where could his wife have been gone to at this hour? He takes a spoonful of strawberry ice cream from the giant tub he held in his other hand before starting to look for you. But where should he look first? He does not know anything except the fact that he had put veils in different places of his house just to keep this house free of low-energy cursed spirits. Those veils sure did their job well but sometimes they would keep out non-sorcerers, people like you. His heart rejoices at the thought that he has to look for you in places only he is aware of, which means this is going to take a little less time, and he will find you much faster. Come to think of it, he has not been in the library section for a while but it is still as spotless as the first day he came here. Have you been visiting? Man! That sure worries him.

The pink layer of the tub has come down to half along with its skin being wet while the spoon is still experiencing the fierce appetite that Satoru had for anything sweet. He stands at the entrance of a long hallway before checking, thinking that this is the last place he has to look for but could it be possible that you were embarrassed enough to go back to your home?

Ahh…ahhh!

The spoon hits the wooden floor with a dull clatter as a wretched realization comes crashing down through his veins. Have you been cheating on him all this time? In his house? With some lowly servant ? Well, that sure makes it easier to end this sham of a marriage. He opens the door of a certain archive room as swiftly as possible trying to minimize the sound of his presence, making sure he does not shock you awake from your rendezvous. He is determined to catch you red-handed but when he opens the door he witnesses something that could have knocked the lights off his brain if he were not one of the greatest sorcerers of his time. The sight was not something of a fair appetite for ordinary people yet you sat by the marble slab of the giant window, with one of your arms nuked under your sapphire jinbei in between your legs as your skin glowed under that pale moonlight as if diamonds and pearls were embedded on your skin. 

You were sweating, arching your body, moaning and all your husband could do was watch in awe. Your free hand travels from the bottom of your cleavage and up to the apex of your nape as you turn your head opening your eyes for a brief moment. You see the world so blurred that it spikes your approaching high, but as you open your eyes for the second time your high is gone like it never existed. Your husband, Gojo Satoru stood before you like an ivory statue of certain abandoned ruined cathedrals. The dress covers most of your body so a wave of relief washes over him despite realizing how dangerous the spot you chose . . .to . . .umh. . . pleasure yourself . 

How long? How long was he watching you ? You shift your body to face him, and your hand slowly emerges from the warmth between your thighs. Satoru tries to ignore but traces of your arousal and his yearning are flourishing like fluorescence on your fingers as it rests on your thigh. You watch him gulp. Suddenly, Gojo Satoru is out of words. Teacher to his students of Jujutsu High, the strongest sorcerer, Nanami’s certified yapper is suddenly out of words. The slight slice of your boobs visible through your robe does not help either in the coherency of his thoughts. He had plans. He had plans to walk out of this marriage without being tainted as a “cheater” because the jujutsu society is so fucked up that they will not stop until they found this particular person that had made this marriage impossible to work on so that you, the wife, had to walk out it and dear God, they certainly are not fond of obstructions.

“What a nice place you chose to—” he finally looks away to keep the tub of semi-molten room-temperature strawberry ice cream on some bookshelf but before he could shift back his gaze on you again you were gone like a storm. The sound of your footsteps echoed in his ear till it stopped before he heard the click of a door. He does not understand if you are just too dumb or too brave to act the way you are acting right now. He follows you as a grunt of dismissal escapes from his chest. As he stands in front of the bathroom door he drowns yet again in utmost disbelief. He can still hear your shrill gasp of pleasure and he is not liking how his cock is responsive to it. At first, he hesitates to touch himself but the faint sound of your moans, the wet squelching sounds of your fingers moving in and out of your damp folds despite the door of the bathroom being locked buzzes in his ears like bees out in the hunt of honey. 

Satoru gave up . You hear a thud as you continue to finger yourself knowing full well that your husband must have followed you all the way here after witnessing you in such a state. Indeed, you could have been accused of cheating on him without him checking the door and it would have been much worse. He sits against the bathroom door unfurling the black ribbon with a swish to take his cock out of his baggy white pants. The tip is already leaking. His cock is throbbing in his palm as he encapsulates his fingers around it, moving his fingers up and down slowly. On the other side of the door, as you could finally feel the pinnacle of your high you heard a soft groan; a pain, that seemed familiar, was palpable underneath that shrill cry of pleasure. Still when your fingers touched the part inside you that almost felt like unknotting something from inside you, at the basal of your navel Satoru’s hand moved faster to chase the similar high that had started to bubble in his body under the influence of your ripples of pleasure. You heard your husband moan as tears rolled down your cheeks when you closed your eyes feeling the knot finally unwinding.

Perhaps, both of you came simultaneously. Perhaps not, because you immediately opened the door after you had calmed from your high, only to be greeted with Satoru sitting right at the opposite wall of the bathroom door, legs folded in L-manner so that he could keep his hand over his knee. His cock is still visible through his white pants and it is still so hard. One of your eyebrows raises in silent reply . Satoru notices that. He looks at you and then looks away. You extend your hand towards his face, gaining his stern azure pair of eyes shining against whatever dim light the crack of the bathroom door could allow. There was no sign of resistance in him so as your palm touched his cheeks, you waited and gave him time to protest. yet none ever followed,  instead, he surrendered to your touch, and your fingers curled under his chin as you ran your thumb over his lips. Satoru coiled against your touch imbibing as much as he could like a tide being high enough to touch the moon . . .a familiar voice shocked both of you awake.

“Lady Gojo. . .” 

[fortheb0ys]

FUCK ME LIKE THE MEN BETWEEN THOSE PAGES

Bottom John Price x Top Male Reader

Just Price brain rot🤤 I've always wanted to a model for MLM porn sites ngl so I'm living through this fic🙏 As usual not proofread :)

FEM ALIGNED + MINORS DNI

Prices would be one of those faceless models for those erotic gay romance novels. All his work would be faceless. Just something he did to make money on the side.

It was a secret that was long forgotten. Memories replaced by his military service. His body more scarred than his younger self's. His own books but they were just collecting dust in a box.

When you got together, you had found one of the books Price had forgotten that was on a shelf. Your eyes grew wide as you noiced it was Price's shirtless body on the front cover. A small mole on his left hip was telltale that it was him.

Flipping the book over and reading the synopsis reveals the dirty content of it. All the colour washes from Price's face as he sees what you have in your hand.

Price was about to open his mouth to quickly deny it but saw your giddy excitement. Though Price felt a bit shameful, he told you that there was more. A lot more.

With much hesitation from him and a whole lot more convincing from you, Price lent you the books. His amazing body on every single one of them. A new scar here and there as the

He had been surprised that you never poked fun at him and that you were genuinely interested in his past works.

You'd admit that the sex scenes depicted were the main thing that got you interested. You'd imagine Price vividly as the characters he model on the front covers. It didn't take long for you to read through the lot of them.

When Price would be on deployment, he'd get a text from you.

Cum on the front cover or on the pages. Or others with your erect cock slotted like a bookmark between the pages with the dirtiest scenes, precum dripping onto the sheets.

You'd send worded texts underneath the photo like "Try these with me?" or "What if were we the ones to do this?"

Price hated himself for showing you the books right before the mission, making the wait painfully long.

Sexualy frustrated and slightly pissed he had to wait for his deployment to end, Price would have a lonely wank in his barracks. His fingers didn't feel right. His fantasies never felt like details in the books. Nothing felt like you.

Once he got back, Price had to fight back a boner as the anticipation took over him. He went through countless cigars trying to get his mind on something else. The 141 Boys knew something was up. Soap had to control the intrusive thoughts to ask if you were waiting naked when Price returned home.

Which he wasn't wrong. The moment Price came through that door he was already painfully hard. Before he could even open his mouth to greet you, you were on him like a fly to honey, attacking his neck with bruising kisses. Whispering the dirty dialog from one of the books made Price weak in the knees.

Thus was the beginning of your roleplay sex.

Your playtime is always different. Numerous scenarios with one thing in common: Mind blowing sex.

Price would play a royal guard, and you, the prince. A prince in a loveless engagement to a princess. A guard pleading loyalty as he rides the prince on the royal throne.

A grade slipping college student fucking his teacher in an empty classroom for extra credit. Blowjows underneath desks replaces the outdated method of study and paying attention to lectures.

A hunter who falls in love with a werewolf he's supposed to kill. The wolf is just a dumb puppy who needs to be told what to do. With a collar around his neck, ready to be tugged at and the willingness to please his master, puppy soon becomes skilled at lapping at master's hole.

A rowdy rockstar and his stressed out manager. The musician needing to burn off the adrenaline after the show and the poor management needing the stress fucked out of him. The real show was played backstage. The manager put on quite the proformance, his deep moans sounded much better than your singing.

A sex therapist that prefers to take on a more hands-on approach. That skilled tongue was used more than just giving advice.

Or lastly, a priest beguiled by a gorgeous sinner. Guilt was all he felt but it felt like true heaven. God would forgive any sin if he showed true repentance, right? Wouldn't Jesus have died for nothing if we didn't sin?

Sure, some where terrible written and some were written by women with a fetish for gay men. Seeing you act out the scenes without missing a beat or breaking out into laughter while you quoted the dirtiest and most ridiculous things.

You'd remember every dirty word uttered. Every scenario memorized. Price was starting to understand what those white women on TikTok saw in those fucking books. It was just too bad they couldn't live it out like he could.

[starsofang]

Change of Heart

hitman!ghost x f!reader / part 1

tw: mentions of suicide, alcohol use

When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you’re too stubborn to bail out.

You tapped your fingers anxiously against your knee underneath the table, the tea you ordered growing cold as you waited. Your eyes darted around the coffee shop, thankfully rather empty apart from an older couple in the corner and a few schoolgirls ordering at the front counter.

You were early, so it was no surprise he wasn’t here yet, but the waiting game proved to be brutal on your mental as you checked the clock that sat perched on the wall. You could practically hear every antagonizing tick that passed with every second.

The ugly monster that reared its head rattled the thoughts consuming your mind. You were making a huge choice, one you wouldn’t turn back on, and the monster named reality was beginning to bare its teeth at you the more it set in.

The sound of your name being spoken in a gravelly voice had you snapping out of your daze, and when you looked away from the clock, you came face to face with the man in question. Tall, very tall, practically looming like the shadow of doom that seemed to wash over you the longer you stared. His face was covered with a mask, successfully hiding his face away and destroying any bouts of curiosity you may have had before this meeting. Thick arms covered by a black hoodie, the hood pulled over his head where you saw tufts of hair poking out.

“Yes. Yes, that’s me. You must be Ghost?” you confirmed woefully, voice small in comparison to his baritone one.

He gave you a curt nod before settling into the seat in front of you. He hunched into it, eyes low as he stared at you for a long moment from across the table. Eyes that kill, you thought to yourself.

“I’ll cut to the chase. Make it easy for you,” he began, and you held your breath in anticipation. “Just need a name, location, date an’ time, an’ a form of payment. Don’t need the logistics or reasonin’, just need what’s necessary.”

You swallowed nervously, shifting in your seat as you scrambled through your mind for the information.

Risking a glance at the older couple across the shop, they were in their own world, not minding the two of you. The thought lingered in the back of your mind that you were sitting here with a hitman you had hired on the dark web after months of scrounging around for one, and they were blissfully unaware of the exchange.

“Right.” You cleared your throat, sitting up and returning your gaze to his. The way he looked at you was all business, and it nearly sent a shiver down your spine.

“‘M waitin’,” he gruffed impatiently. It didn’t settle the nerves.

“Well…” You cleared your throat again, and his eyes slightly narrowed as he watched your throat bob. “It’s me, actually.”

He said nothing as he stared at you, and you briefly wondered if he’d ever gotten this request before — somebody hiring him to take them out because they were too afraid to do it themselves.

“I’d like it to be on Friday. It’s my favorite day,” you began quietly. Your hands continued to fiddle with each other under the table, picking at the skin around your nails and creating a slight sting. “Eleven PM. I’ll be going to bed by then. I’d… like it to be as painless as possible, so I’ll make sure I’m sleeping to make it easier.”

It was Monday now, so that gave you time to prepare.

Still, he said nothing, and his expression didn’t change. It was hidden beneath the mask, but his eyes were enough to convey what he was thinking — or at least, you thought it’d be enough. But they told you nothing. Blank and emotionless, like you were staring into an abyss of nothingness. A void.

Reaching into the pocket of your jacket, you pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, setting it down in front of him. It contained the address of your apartment you spent most of your time in, and would eventually spend dying in.

“I have the money. Won’t be needing it anyway, so whatever your price is, I’ll have it.”

Finishing your spiel, you expected to feel relief, but instead, you felt a mix of things you weren’t sure of. Dread? You thought you’d be comforted by finalizing the deal to end your life from the hands of another, but it certainly didn’t feel that way.

“Alright,” he agreed after the stretch of silence. He sniffed, adjusting himself in the small chair, placing his arms on the table. “You can leave the money for me in your place. ‘M sure I’ll find it anyhow.”

Releasing a breath, you nodded, watching as he took the wadded paper and shoved it in his own pocket.

“That all?”

You nodded again, mouth too dry to speak. After all, it wasn’t everyday you hired a hitman on yourself, let alone did it in the comfort of a coffee shop downtown.

“I’ll see you Friday then. Eleven PM.”

“Okay,” you breathed, watching as he stood up from the table. He gave you a nod in farewell, and your eyes followed his back as he ducked out of the coffee shop, disappearing like a shadow in the night.

Monday went. Then came Tuesday. Then Wednesday, Thursday, and eventually, Friday.

The week came and went like a breeze, and you had spent it making preparations. You told yourself it was for the best. A letter, written and rewritten over a hundred times, explaining what you did and why you did it — even if it wasn’t really you doing the job.

Life had a silly way of treating people. Everybody came from all sorts of backgrounds, some worse than others, and many came out of it alive.

You weren’t one of those people. You didn’t think you’d have the strength to succumb to the standards of basic living if it meant spending the rest of it miserable and alone.

Sitting in your apartment was a constant reminder of how void it was of any sign of life. Of course it had you, but considering you a sign of life was pushing it. You were barely hanging on by a thread, and all you were waiting for was for somebody to come around and cut the last bit with a pair of scissors so you could fully be free.

Time seemed to pass even slower when you knew death was on its way. You spent the majority of the dreadful Friday cleaning your apartment. You didn’t want Ghost to think you were a lousy slob, after all, even if part of you was — but you had your reasons. What point was there to tidy up on a regular day, when the only thing that ever filled your brain was numbness that extended to all parts of your body?

It was truly a never ending cycle, this life. You hoped that when it ended, whatever lay beyond death was much kinder than how life had treated you. The red-headed stepchild. Long forgotten, but forced to remain. It was punishment to even be alive.

When the sun fell beyond the horizon outside your window and the night sky welcomed the moon, you knew it was only a few hours until the course of your destiny would forever be altered.

You laid in bed, eyes locked on to the old ceiling of your apartment. The clock read 8:54 PM, which left approximately two hours before Ghost would arrive to finish the job. Two long, stretching hours by yourself, consumed in your own cage of a mind.

You couldn’t help that they lingered. Shifting focus between your unhappiness, your selfishness, your resentment towards the world and the people in it that had failed you. The pain brought upon you was almost too much to bear, even in these two hours of waiting.

Why had life been so unkind to you? Why you?

Nevermind that. It wouldn’t be long until you could finally get some rest, for good.

You don’t recall getting up from your bed to enter the kitchen, but you found yourself yanking open the cupboard that held an array of liquor you swore to yourself you wouldn’t touch again. It was as if your mind was in a fog, and you were acting purely out of blinded instinct.

Twisting the cap off of one of the bottles, you took a deep chug of the liquor, allowing the burn to slip down your throat and encase you with a temporary warmth.

Soon enough, that bottle became your companion in bed when you returned, sitting up against the headboard with it resting in your lap, cap lost somewhere along the journey back.

Your eyes stared blankly at the wall as you took the occasional sip, time continuing to tick by as you waited. Time stopped for no one, not even in the wake of death.

Eleven o’clock.

You were far from drunk, but you had definitely nursed the bottle enough to give you a buzz that allowed your mind to cloud over with a sense of fuzziness. It didn’t halt the thoughts from revealing themselves, but it certainly made the self deprecation easier to handle.

You hadn’t moved from your spot on the bed, nor had your eyes shifted away from the dinginess of the walls.

The faint sound of the door rattling almost went unnoticed, but even in the broken state of you, you weren’t sure you would’ve noticed it anyway. It wasn’t until that looming shadow from before had appeared next to you at your bedside that you knew what time it was.

“You’re not asleep,” Ghost gruffed out, voice quiet but nonetheless deep and void of much emotion. It was a nice voice to listen to, you thought, and it would be comforting to hear it in your final moments.

“Sorry,” you murmured quietly, finally lifting your head up to look at him. You looked a mess.

When he took in the sight of you, he could see the slight redness of your eyes, how they sunk into your skin, making you appear ghostly. Your lips were thin and chapped, pressed into a line on your face and making you look older than you were. Ghost saw a client nonetheless, but he also saw a tired girl who had reached the point of breaking. He wondered what had caused you to become this way, but it wasn’t his job to care.

“S’fine,” he huffed out, shifting his weight on his feet. “In no rush to kill you, anyway. Mind if I ‘ave a smoke?”

Ghost nodded his head towards the sliding door to your balcony, and you gave him a nod in return, watching as he walked away with a sniff. The door slid open and he went to step outside, before his eyes turned back to you.

“…Wanna join?” he asked, and you stared at him in surprise. “Figured you might enjoy one last smoke before you go about dyin’.”

You blinked dumbly before setting the bottle of liquor on your nightstand and standing up on bare feet to join him.

Outside was cold, the bitter chill causing goosebumps to rise along your skin. You joined him on the balcony, standing by his side like a lost child while he leaned against the railings.

He lifted the bottom of his mask to rest over his nose, placing a cigarette between scarred lips. The lighter illuminated the bottom portion of his face, and you stared as he took a deep inhale, letting the smoke exude out moments later.

His gloved fingers held the cigarette out towards you, and his sunken eyes watched as you took it from him. You inhaled it, feeling the burn of smoke fill your lungs and temporarily numb you for a brief second, before coughs erupted from your mouth.

“Fuck,” you breathed, eyes brimming with tears as you wiped at your mouth.

“Never smoked before?” he asked, and if he was amused, he didn’t show it.

“No,” you confessed grimly, handing him the cigarette, which he took gently. “Alcohol’s more my thing.”

“Mm.”

You stood in silence as he puffed on the stick, eyes casted out to the city around you. It was quiet despite the lit up buildings cascading a faint glow around the two of you, and for once, you felt peaceful.

“Must be going through quite the trouble if you’re askin’ somebody else to kill you,” he spoke after a pregnant pause in conversation. It snapped you out of your daze, and you turned your head to look at him. He didn’t look back. “Coulda just took a bunch of pills an’ called it a day.”

His words had you feeling a bit dumb, and you looked away from him, feeling a frown form on your face. You knew he was right. You could’ve just done it yourself instead of getting another person wrapped up in it, even if it was his job.

But you were weak. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it, couldn’t pull the trigger, couldn’t open the pill bottle, couldn’t throw yourself over the balcony.

“Must not really wanna die all that much if you can’t do it yourself.”

“I do.”

He chuckled, but it was so quiet, it got taken away with the breeze.

“Who are you tryin’ to convince?”

You stared at him in stunned silence, unsure of how to defend yourself. You knew how much pain you were in, and you knew you wanted it to end. But you also knew how much of a weak link you were to your own mind, and how much stronger you could be if you had just put in the effort to get better.

After all, alcohol only solved problems temporarily until they ended up creating more of them.

“I don’t really feel like killin’ you. Pretty girl like yourself doesn’t deserve a fate like that, much less from somebody like me,” he started, taking a pause to inhale another breath of smoke. “So how ‘bout I cut you a deal?”

“A deal?” you asked, frowning at him. “Isn’t it your job to kill, no questions asked?”

“Mm. That it is,” he confessed with a careless shrug. “But I’m not completely heartless.”

That was comical, coming from him. People hired him to kill whoever they requested, no strings attached, and no evidence left behind. He was a hitman, it was his entire livelihood to do just that, yet here he was, cutting you a damn deal.

“…What kind of deal?” You couldn’t help but be a bit curious.

For the first time since meeting, his lips quirked into a smile. It was small, barely noticeable, but in the dim lighting of the butt of the cigarette as it burned, combined with the glow of the city around you, you could see it.

“Two weeks,” he said, shifting his eyes to you. “I’ll give you two weeks to figure out what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours. If you’re still wantin’ to die, then I’ll do it for you. If not, then congratulations. You live to see another day.”

Two weeks to convince yourself to not want to die? The idea seemed silly to you. You had already went through the trouble of finding a hitman, hiring him, and coming up with a payment for when he completed the job of killing you. Wasn’t that convincing enough?

Still, though. You might’ve been a broken woman with little dreams and little remedies, but you were also stubborn. If he wanted to wait two weeks to try and prove you wrong, you’d gladly accept the challenge.

“Okay.” You nodded, tapping your fingers along the railings mindlessly. “It’s a deal, Ghost. Two weeks, and then you’ll be sure to kill me.”

He huffed out a laugh through his nose and extended a gloved hand for you to shake, cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Deal.”

starting another au when i already have one ongoing but this came to me in the middle of the night and i literally woke up mid sleep and was like, good lord i wanna write that!!! so i did 🤌🏻

[won4kiss]

── ❝ ꒰ 𝑆𝐼𝑃𝑃𝐼𝑁’ 𝒟𝐼𝐸𝑇 𝒫𝐸𝑃𝑆𝐼 .ᐟㅤ ៸៸﹙ 박성훈 ﹚ ᶻ𐰁

GENRE ៸៸ forbidden situationship ៸ oneshot ﹔ SYPNOSIS┆in which you’re the golden, ‘perfect’ rich girl and get yourself mixed up with the epitome of darkness, park sunghoon the street racer .ᐟㅤ ꒰ WORD COUNT﹕1162 ꒱── 𝓦ARNING(S) not edited ៸ tension ៸ pet names ៸ cocky hoon ៸ . ݁ ✦ ݁ . ⊱ LIBRARY . . . ﹕LUNA 💭 — honestly idk where i was going w this.. ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) anyways diet pepsi soty !!!! ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

THE NIGHT WAS THICK WITH THE SCENT OF GASOLINE AND ASPHALT, THE DISTANT ECHO OF ENGINES REVVING WILDLY IN THE DARKNESS.

you knew you shouldn’t have been here— the looks you were getting, you knew your dad would throw a tantrum once the news got to him, but you couldn’t find it in you to care anymore, not since you’ve met him.

guess that’s the effect he had on you.

you stood just outside the borders of the cracked and worn out road that doubled as a racetrack on nights like these, the air buzzing with anticipation and reckless roars from the crowd.

you could hear the murmur of the ones surrounding you, people eager to see the next race, to see— feel the thrill of speed and danger.

but your attention was far from the crowd, it was on him— park sunghoon. ─── 𝘔𝘖𝘙𝘌 𝘜𝘕𝘋𝘌𝘙 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘊𝘜𝘛 .ᐟㅤ

sunghoon leaned against his sleek, black car a few feet away from you, a bottle of diet pepsi dangling loosely from his hand, his eyes sharp and attentive as he scanned his competition.

the faint neon lights from the surrounding cars cast a glow across his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jawline and the dark, mischievous glint in his eyes.

he radiated an effortless coolness, a kind of quiet confidence that drew you in like a magnet.

he looked untouchable—dangerous, even—but you knew better.

he’d always had that effect on you.

you took a breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you made your way toward him.

every step felt weighted, charged with the tension that had been building between you for hours now.

you had tried to ignore it, tried to stay away from the intoxicating pull he had on you, but here you were, walking straight towards the darkness of park sunghoon— the one person you should stay away from.

sunghoon caught sight of you as you approached, his eyes darkening with a look you had grown all too familiar with.

his lips curled into a smirk, the kind that sent a thrill down your spine.

“you know you shouldn’t be here, princess” he said, his voice low and teasing, the sound of it sending shivers through you.

“your dad just might kill me if he finds out you’re here with me, you know?”

“and yet here i am,” you replied, your voice slow and steady despite the way your pulse was quickening.

he straightened up, his full attention now on you, there was a challenge in his eyes, a dare.

“you always were bad at following the rules,” he said, stepping closer.

his presence was overwhelming, the heat of his body radiating against yours as he closed the distance between you.

“i could say the same for you,” you said, your voice softer now, breathless.

you could feel the tension between you thickening, the space between you shrinking with every passing second.

it was as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you—the noise of the crowd, the roar of engines, all of it faded into the background the second you two connected.

sunghoon’s smirk grew wider as he reached up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle but electric.

“you think i don’t know what i’m doing?” he asked, his voice laced with the same quiet intensity that made your stomach flip.

“i think you know exactly what you’re doing,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

his gaze dropped to your lips, and for a moment, everything seemed to stop.

the world held its breath, waiting for what would happen next. his hand lingered against your skin, his fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path down to your jaw, his touch sending sparks through your entire body.

“you like playing with danger, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice rougher now, filled with something darker, something deeper.

“something not even your daddy could buy for you, you want darkness, don’t you?”

“that’s why you keep coming back.”

you swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked up at him.

“maybe,” you said, your voice shaking slightly.

“or maybe i just like playing with you.”

sunghoon’s eyes darkened, and for a split second, you could see the fire that burned beneath his calm aura.

he stepped even closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “careful. you might get burned.”

his words sent a jolt of electricity through you, but before you could respond, the sound of engines revving to life broke the moment.

sunghoon pulled back, his eyes flicking to the track where the next race was about to begin.

the crowd’s energy shifted, growing louder as the cars lined up at the starting line.

“you’re up next,” you said, your voice a bit shaky from the tension that still hung heavy in the air between you.

sunghoon glanced at his car, then back at you, the same cocky smirk returning to his lips.

“stay close,” he said, his voice laced with promise.

“this won’t take too long.”

without another word, he turned and slid into the driver’s seat of his car.

you watched as he started the engine, the deep rumble vibrating through the ground beneath your feet.

he looked over at you one last time with that same smirk before shifting his focus entirely to the race, his expression hardening into the dangerous recklessness taking over him.

as the countdown began— you could feel the electricity in the air, the tension of the audience growing bigger with every second that ticked by.

and then, with a roar of engines and a blur of motion before you, the race began.

you watched, your heart in your throat, as sunghoon drove a speed that was almost terrifying.

the danger was real, raw, but there was something intoxicating about it—about him.

it was as if he was in control of the chaos, commanding it with ease.

minutes passed, though it felt like an eternity, and before you knew it, sunghoon’s car crossed the finish line first, a blur of black metal and speed.

the crowd erupted into cheers, but your focus was solely on him as he brought the car to a stop, stepping out with that same confident stance that made your heart race.

he walked over to you, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths, a glint of victory in his eyes.

without saying a word, he reached for you, pulling you close against him.

the smell of burnt rubber and gasoline clung to his skin, mixing with the tang of adrenaline that lingered in the air.

“you’re crazy,” you whispered, looking up at him, your heart still racing from the thrill of watching him.

his smirk returned, the glint in his eyes more dangerous than ever— your mind is telling you to run before it’s too late, but you know in your heart that you’re already in too deep, wrapped in the chains of park sunghoon.

“maybe,” he said, his voice a low, knowing whisper.

“but you love it, don’t you?”

yeah— you couldn’t argue with that.

© won4kiss 2024

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[dominantslasherking]

Bill and Stu trying to feel the reader up after he killed someone. And the reader just wants to clean up his mess and go. And since his misbehaving brats don't get the hint, he pins them to the wall, hands around their throats, to get them to shut up :>

Billy and Stu with dominant Male S/o

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+

You examine the motionless body, evaluating the blood spatter and the location of the wound that was oozing blood. You couldn't just leave it here, at Billy's house; you had to deliver the body of the girl you killed at their home. Sighing, you slapped your rubber gloves on, not expecting the other two slashers to approach and speak to you with sultry movements.

"Nice job babe~ You got her right in the gut!" Stu cheered, slowly moving to your right, side, his hand gliding down your arm, his lips close to your ear.

"Stu's right, you did amazing.." Billy paused a grin on his face. "Just so...fucking sexy," Billy whispered going to your left, side, his hand sliding underneath your shirt.

"Let me clean this up and prop the body before the parents of this dead body arrive home," you said quietly. Your voice husky and low. There was no other time to prep the body at said location; every second was crucial.

Billy and Stu didn't appear to receive the hint, as Billy began kissing your neck and Stu took your lips for himself.

"We can do it later." You indicated more sternly, since both of them were persistent and desperate.

Stu made an unauthentic moan in your ear. "C'monnn," Stu said with a cheeky grin on his face.

Billy's desire burned hotter, and he eagerly pressed his body against yours, seeking an intense connection, while Stu mirrored his passion, both of them refusing to relent.

your expression turned icy along with determination. You moved swiftly, catching Billy and Stu off guard. Your hands, once passive, now took a commanding stance. Wrapping your fingers around their throats, pushing them firmly against the unyielding wall.

In that charged moment, Billy was left momentarily speechless, his tousled hair falling over his eyes, while Stu, in a futile struggle, found himself powerless against your harsh grip. However, amidst the fear that flickered in both Billy and Stu's eyes, there was a tantalizing amount of desire. It was as though they relished being under your control loved it, delved in it. Their defiant attitudes vanish in a heartbeat.

Your dominance left them powerless, and, to put it mildly, it was clear that they would do as you pleased, at least for the time being. The anticipation of being alone with you simmered in Billy and Stu's thoughts, an irresistible prospect they couldn't wait to explore. To cave under your grasp once more.

[kamocore]

The Doctor's Little Assistant.

ft. dottore !

sypnosis ; dottore rewards you for your hard efforts.

warnings ; top ! dottore , dottore is a warning himself , face fucking , power dynamics , boss n assistant relationships , degradation , slight praise , facials , light face slapping , lowkey rushed no bullying :'3

wc ; 1.6k. enjoy !!

Dottore's personal assistant. 

You're the only one allowed inside his lab, outside of his clones and his disgusting little lab-rats of course. You're one of the only ones he actually tolerates. You're always so good for him, tidying up his mess of an office when he doesn't ask and always bringing him extra coffee when you know he's running low on it.

He's almost certain he's not gonna kill you off like the others, he likes you.

He likes the way you immediately oblige like you even had a choice when he asks to experiment on you. "I'd be happy to, my lord." You say, giving him a smile and a nod. He knows that you're scared beneath your little act, he can just sense it, and he loves it. He gets off on your pain and fear, and he finds it amusing when you try to hold back your wails of pain. 

Dottore especially loves when you start to let tears run down your face because of how much it hurts. You're left trembling, sniffling every couple seconds as he unstraps you from the vivisection table, but you would be lying if you said there wasn't a part of you that secretly enjoys it. He's a sick and twisted sadist, and you like it.

He thinks you're so pretty with your tear stained face and ruined makeup. He just shakes his head when you complain about it as if you weren't the one crying.

Maybe if you had let him remove your tear glands and ducts it wouldn't be an issue.

Dottore brings you to the fatui meetings too, he knows it's not allowed but he could care less. when Pierro reminds him that, "Anyone who isn't apart of the ranks, is strictly not allowed into the meetings." Dottore ignores him, and he keeps you right by his side, and when he can see your legs getting tired, he orders you to sit on his lap. He doesn't care when you get embarrassed, and he certainly doesn't care that his co-workers look at you two either, his sadistic smile only grows larger.

"You've been a very obedient girl as of recent, haven't you." It was an observation, but you still nod your head as if he just asked you a question while you try to avoid looking at his face. "Stupid little thing. Look at me when I talk to you." Dottore growls. He grabs your jaw with a vice like grip to make you look up at him and even though you can't see his eyes, you can still feel them on you. It feels like all the air has been knocked out of your lungs and you're quick to mutter out an apology. "Of course, my lord.. 'm sorry." 

"Good girl." He praises as he pulls his gloved hand away from your jaw. "I'd say an award is in order, hm?" He says as he starts walking over to a swivel chair that's behind you. You want to follow him but in fear of being disobedient, you stay frozen in place. As he sits down, he calls out your name and you're quick to turn around to face him. 

"Crawl to me."

You stand there for a moment, processing his words, feeling the heat slowly creeping into your cheeks. "Yes, my lord," you manage to spit out. Despite the embarrassment, you comply, dropping to your knees and then shifting onto all fours, moving toward him as instructed. Each movement is deliberate, the anticipation building with every inch closer to him. Finally, you find yourself between his legs, facing him on your knees, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you settle between Dottore's legs, your heart begins to race due to anticipation. You can feel his gaze piercing through you and it sends shivers down your entire body as you wait for his next command.

Dottore smirks, relishing in the control he holds over you. "Always so good," he murmurs, his voice laced with dark amusement. "You know exactly how to please me." You lower your gaze, feeling the weight of his words like chains around your neck. "Thank you, my lord," you mumble obediently, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smirk only widens as he looks down at you, reveling in the power he holds. His gloved hand reaches out, fingers curling under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The leather feels cold and unyielding against your skin. "You look good on your knees," he muses, his tone dripping with sadistic undertones. "Maybe I should make you my desk pet."

You whine and swallow hard at the suggestion, feeling a mix of fear and excitement coil in your belly. "Please," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly and truthfully you don't even know what you're asking for. The way he looks down upon you, like he knows you're inferior to him, sends shivers down your spine.

He releases your chin and leans back in his chair, spreading his legs slightly to give you more room. "You know what to do," he commands, his voice cold and demanding. "Show me how compliant you really are, love."

Oh fuck.

The pet name almost kills you and it makes your breath hitch. You nod anyway, reaching up with shaky hands to unbuckle his belt. You can feel Dottore watching you as you do so and you can feel your face burning with embarrassment. But you push through, determined to please him.

As you pull down his trousers, you're met with the sight of his cock straining against his boxers. it sends a jolt of arousal through you, and you can't let out a soft moan at the sight. Dottore's chuckle is low and menacing, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head. "Come on," he urges, his voice low and almost taunting. "You know better than to keep me waiting."

You comply and pulling down his boxers, freeing his cock and you can't take your eyes off of it. You lean in, pressing a tentative kiss to the tip and licking a long stripe up the side. Dottore's grip on your hair tightens, and he lets out a breath of approval. "Good girl," he murmurs. "Now take me in your mouth,"

You comply almost instantly. You open your mouth, taking his cock in slowly with your tongue swirling around the tip. Him in general but especially the taste of him is intoxicating, and you can feel the heat between your legs growing with each passing second. You hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, and his low groan of pleasure spurs you on.

Dottore's other hand joins the first, holding your head steady as you bob up and down. "Such a whore," he degrades, his voice laced with arousal. "You take me so well. You were made for this, weren't you?"

You moan around his cock, the vibrations making him hiss. His voice and his words a thrill through you, and you try taking him deeper into your mouth, wanting nothing more than to please him. Your pace quickens, your movements becoming more desperate as you lose yourself in the task.

Dottore's grip tightens painfully, and he thrusts his hips up, forcing himself deeper into your throat. "This is what you wanted, hm." He says, and though it was a statement, you still try to nod your head stupidly. In the process you gag, tears springing to your eyes, but you don't stop and neither does he. "That's right, gag on it." His groans grow louder, his breathing becoming more ragged. "You're so pathetic."

Your eyes water as you look up at him, the tears only serving to heighten his pleasure as he loves to see you cry. He smirks down at you, his thumb brushing away a tear that escapes down your cheek. "Pretty little thing.." He murmurs. "Take it, take it deeper."

He holds you there for a moment longer before finally releasing your head. You pull back, gasping for air, your lips swollen and wet with saliva. His chest is heaving up and down while you wrap your hands around the length of his cock. "I'm gonna cum," he groans, "Gonna paint your pretty face."

 Dottore pries your hands away from his cock and begins to stroke himself. You whine at the sight in front of you. "Please," you breathe out. He scoffs in amusement before slapping the tip of his cock on your cheek. "Open your mouth."

You instantly obey, looking up at him and sticking your tongue out. You're gross and messy right now but you know he likes seeing you ruined, especially if he's the cause. You're watching him stroke his cock from above you, pressing his thumb to the swollen and leaking tip. 

Your needy whines must've been just what Dottore needed to drive him over the edge. He groans as he reaches his climax and his free hand reaches for your jaw with a tight grip to hold you in place. Thick ropes of cum soon cover not only your chest, but your face and tongue as well. You keep your mouth open in an attempt and in hope to catch more of his cum on your tongue.

As soon as he comes down from his high, his hand comes down to slap your cheek and command you to swallow the bits that landed in your mouth. You oblige. He takes one more good look at you before tucking himself back into his boxers and pulling his pants up. "Clean yourself up." He spits coldly, and you nod. "Yes, my lord."

"When you're done, there's some paperwork I need you to get from The Regrator's office. Once you get it, bring it back here and I'll reward you once more."

[venus-haze]

Damned If You Do (Bo Sinclair x Reader)

Summary: You're almost certain Bo's getting tired of you. You're not so sure how much longer you can prevent the inevitable, but a slip of the tongue in a moment of desperation proves to be your salvation.

Note: Female reader but no other descriptors are used. I missed writing for Bo! I might be kinda rusty, but I hope y’all like it🖤 Please read the warnings before reading. Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Canon typical violence. Prolonged captivity and isolation. Stockholm syndrome (some basement wife elements). Mentions of past torture. Extremely dubious consent. Sexually explicit content involving vaginal fingering, sadism, degradation, choking, knife play.

You were sure Ambrose was gonna kill you if he didn’t first. The damp, dead air permeated the basement walls, filtered in thick through the vent in the ceiling and filled your lungs with each breath. It would choke you once summer settled in, foul and unforgiving. Almost as unforgiving as him, whose presence inspired fear and loathing in you. Lately, however, the lack of it brought a foreboding sense of dread over you as your isolated mind raced to its logical conclusion.

Bo was getting tired of you.

One cursory glance at the state of your body made you panic—bruises fading, cuts and cigarette burns scarring over without fresh marks to replace them. For the first week or so you were there, every part of your body pulsed with pain. He found your limits with the efficacy of a bloodhound and brutally forced you past each one. 

All you felt then was dull aching, kinda hungry, too. Didn’t bode well for your long-term survival.

You shifted on the old, lumpy mattress on the floor, stained with blood, sweat, and cum that reeked with the breakdown of others’ bodily fluids. Probably the girls in the Polaroids all over the walls. He’d taken a few of you since you’d been down there. Hadn’t done that recently, either. Mostly came down there to feed you, take you upstairs to use the gas station bathroom, bring you back downstairs to throw you around a little and fuck you, and then leave. Shit. You were becoming a chore.

Bo had plenty of chores around Ambrose already. Would grumble about them to you, the closest he ever got to pillowtalk. The movie theater, the church, even the houses were his responsibility. You weren’t quite sure why, less able to clearly picture the town you’d driven into the longer you spent as Bo’s captive. There weren’t any immediate red flags that popped out at you. After all, you’d driven straight to the gas station on your blown out tire. Didn’t take the time to do any sight-seeing. He made sure of that. From what you’d gathered from Bo, the only living souls in town were he and Vincent, with the recent and temporary addition of yourself.

The floor creaked above you, and you pulled your knees to your chest, anticipating his arrival downstairs. It was almost impossible to tell what mood he’d be in whenever he’d pay you a visit. Tried listening for the sound of his footsteps, the way his boots pounded against the linoleum above to the cement stairs to where you waited for him, as if you could do much else. There was the TV, but the glimpse into the outside world left you feeling especially helpless when your own face flashed across the screen on the 6 o’clock news not long after you became captive in Ambrose. Then after a week or so, all mention of you stopped. Seven days for you to be rotated out of the news cycle. They’d gotten tired of you long before Bo did.

You screwed your eyes shut, as he ambled down the stairs, racking your brain for what to do. Opened them just as quickly to give him your undivided attention, just how he liked. Panicked and hopeless, you blurted out upon seeing his face, “You’re gonna kill me soon, aren’t you?”

He set the bottle of soda he’d undoubtedly brought down for you and smiled. Charming, disarming, like the one he first gave you when you naively drove into town on the roadkill guy’s advice—Lester. His name was Lester. Could he have known? Was he in on the whole thing? You hadn’t seen anyone but Bo for weeks, and he only made mention of Vincent, his brother, who you were certain had no interest in rescuing you from your plight.

“What makes you think that?” he asked.

‘Tire blew out,’ you had told Bo, feeling silly and self-conscious when he laughed. ‘I can see that.’ Threw a wink your way and assured you he’d have you back on the road before it got dark. You trusted him because he was handsome and laid on the compliments thick. Made you think maybe driving over that broken bottle in the road wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Within an hour he had you in that fucking basement.

“You—you’re bored of me,” you said. “You don’t come down here as often as you used to.”

“Aw, you miss me? Is that it?” he mocked.

Maybe. Maybe it was the security of knowing you were wanted, that the longer you kept his interest, the longer you’d be alive. Maybe even earn his trust enough to get a chance to escape back into the world that’d forgotten about you. But Bo wouldn’t forget. He’d keep you immortalized on those cinder block walls with all the others. Disgustingly sentimental. Part of you preferred being part of his shrine to his own depravity than a black and white photo people carelessly flipped past in the local paper.

“How are you gonna do it? Tell me,” you begged.

He tilted his head, narrowed his eyes at you as a grin spread across his face. “Well, I like to get that shit over with quick, but you might be worth slowing things down for.”

“Like—like how?”

As soon as he made his way toward you, regret filled your gut. You crawled backward on your hands, trying to put some distance between you until your back hit the wall. His hands were around your neck, his hungry eyes drinking in your distress.

“If you were most girls, I would just keep squeezing until you stop breathing,” he said, squeezing harder. “Pretty clean.” Black spots filled your vision as you fruitlessly tried clawing at his hands. “Makes it easier for Vincent to get to work on you that way.” He released your throat, and you fought through the coughing fit that burned in your chest as you gasped for air. Tears streamed down your face, and you wanted to smack the smug expression off of his.

“But that ain’t always fun,” he said.

Bo stood up and kicked your legs apart with his boots. Grabbed something from the nearby tool cart. The fucking knife. You swore he kept the blade dull on purpose just so it’d hurt more, leave nastier scars behind in its wake whenever he dug it into your skin, dragging it through your flesh with horrifying precision that only came from experience, because you never needed stitches.

“For you, I think I’d be a little more personal.”

He straddled you, sitting on your legs so you couldn’t possibly move them in an attempt to escape or defend yourself. You could feel his hard-on straining against his jeans, pressing into your bare pussy as he leaned over you, knife shining menacingly in the buzzing fluorescent light overhead. He made rags of your clothes not long after you became his and never offered any replacement.

The blade pressed against the middle of your chest, right between your breasts, making you shudder. He licked his lips. “I could shove this knife on in there, open you up all the way down to your cunt.” His fingers brushed your clit. “‘Beauty’s only skin deep’, that’s what my mama used to say. But sluts like you all look the same on the inside. Crack open your ribcage, and I wouldn’t be able to tell you from all the rest.”

You whimpered as he dragged the blade down your abdomen with a deceptive gentleness, his fingers still working your clit, making it hard for you not to jerk your hips, risking a slip of the knife directly into your belly. 

When he lifted the knife, you couldn’t even let yourself feel relief as your eyes followed it to one of your wrists. 

“Could take it nice and slow. Let you bleed out,” he pressed it against your skin, dangerously close to a vein. “It’d take hours for you to die, then. Messy as hell, too, but we could get up to some fun, you and me. A good fuck for ol’ times’ sake, then I can sit back with some popcorn while I watch the lights go out in those pretty eyes of yours.”

You let out a shaky breath, fear and arousal mixing with your lingering lack of oxygen so you could only half-grasp what exactly he was saying, just that he had a knife to your wrist, and he was enough of a homicidal monster to kill you that way. He slid his fingers inside you, and you could feel your orgasm creeping up on you, your head heavy and fuzzy as he kept going. 

“But if we’re talking easy and personal, then I’d just—” He brought the blade up to your throat until you could feel your rapid pulse beating against it. 

Bo curled his fingers, pleasure tearing through you as you jolted in place, feeling the cool metal superficially pierce your skin. 

Your voice came out as a strangled sob. “Please, Bo. Please don’t—” 

He kissed you, an undertone of fondness in the gesture that filled you with relief and terror. “You won’t have to worry about any of that for a long while,” he said, his voice low, reverberating through your aching bones. “I’m not finished with you yet. Not even close.”

[notsosweetchan]

Warning: smut (Minors Do Not Interact)

Paring-Hyunjin x reader-

-Dirty Secret (Teacher AU)

Hyunjin couldn't help but feel a blush crawl up his cheeks as he glanced over the chalkboard, taking a deep breath to calm himself before continuing his lecture. His gaze found the wayward one, making sure to maintain eye contact with her.

She gave him an innocent smile, batting her eyelashes as if nothing was out of the ordinary - but he knew better. Her fingers were restlessly toying with her pen, tapping against it in a way that was all too familiar to him now.

It was hard to ignore the nervous energy radiating off of her, and he couldn't help but wonder what mischief she was planning next.

As he droned on about trigonometry, his eyes drifted back towards her again and again, unable to help themselves.

He watched as she playfully bit on her lower lip while furiously scribbling notes down in her notebook; could almost taste the sweet cherry flavor from where he sat.

The sound of chalk scratching against the board was drowned out by the soft rustling of paper as she flipped through pages and scratched away at words in bright pink ink that matched her cherry lip color perfectly.

Even when she furrowed her brows in concentration or chewed on the end of her pencil thoughtfully, there was an undeniable glimmer in those emerald eyes that betrayed any semblance of focus on the subject matter.

Amidst his lecture, a moment came where Hyunjin paused for emphasis; an opening for Y/to strike. "And that," he said grandly, pointing at an equation on the board behind him, "is how you use trigonometry to calculate angles."

The room full of students went silent for a moment before bursting into chatter once more, but Y/N's heart leaped at the pause in Hyunjin's lecture, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. She had been waiting for this moment.

She glanced up at him from under her lashes, feeling her stomach do flips as their eyes locked. He looked so handsome standing there, chalk dusting his suit but still managing to look put together and professional.

She couldn't help but compare him to the mess she was in; her hair was probably a wild nest on top of her head, strands escaping every which way after the impromptu make-out session earlier. Her cheeks were still flushed pink and her lips felt swollen from their kisses.

Hyunjin cleared his throat, breaking their gaze. Y/N took the opportunity to quickly scribble down some notes before looking back up at him, hoping he wouldn't catch on to her thoughts. The anticipation was killing her as he continued speaking, his voice low yet commanding in the quiet classroom.

His hands moved gracefully on the chalkboard as he drew triangles and circles, their soft scratching sound filling the air like music to her ears. She found herself tracing along with his movements, wishing she could feel the chalk between her fingers instead of just imagining it.

Suddenly, he wrote down an equation that she knew she wouldn't be able to solve alone - not without some guidance from him anyway - and she raised her hand hesitantly.

The sound of chalk on board stopped abruptly as he turned to face her, those deep brown eyes boring into hers. "Yes?" He asked softly. Y/N took a deep breath and shot him a shy smile before pointing at the board. "I don't quite understand this part," she admitted with a small laugh,

"Oh really?" Hyunjin smirked, walking over to her desk with a swish of his pants and a soft clearing of his throat. He leaned down over her shoulder, his breath tickling her neck as he peered over her shoulder at the board.

The warmth of his body against hers sent shivers down her spine, making it harder for her to concentrate on the equation. "Let me show you," he murmured softly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face.

The scent of her perfume filled his nostrils and made him dizzy with desire. His fingers traced the lines of the equation slowly, explaining it to her in a low voice that only she could hear.

As he went on, he couldn't help but brush against her knuckles or graze the inside of her wrist with his thumb in the guise of pointing things out.

His heart raced just as fast as hers did when their skin touched, sending electric currents shooting up his arm and down hers.

She gasped softly as he lifted his hand away from her skin, their connection broken only by the thin air between them.

Hyunjin chuckled lightly and stepped back, holding himself upright again while continuing to explain the lesson around them.

The rest of the classroom fell silent once more; every eye on them as they watched this exchange – some with envy, others with confusion - but none daring to interrupt them again.

Y/N felt herself blush deeper under their stares but couldn't bring herself to look away from him; those eyes held hers captive like no other could.

Hyunjin couldn't help but feel a wave of satisfaction wash over him as he saw the understanding dawn on her face.

He smiled gently at her, noticing the way her cherry-flavored breaths quickened as he leaned down to whisper the explanation into her ear. The softness of her skin beneath his fingertips sent shivers down his spine, reminding him of the allure and the temptation that lingered between them.

"Of course," he said, stepping back with a smirk on his lips. "Just remember this formula. It's important," he added as an afterthought before glancing around the room once more to make sure everyone was focused again.

The students in the back row whispered among themselves while giggling softly, their eyes flickering between Y/N's flushed cheeks and Hyunjin's satisfied smirk.

His words echoed through the classroom, causing butterflies in Y/N's stomach as she tried to concentrate on what he was saying instead of how close he had been to her just moments before.

As Hyunjin continued his lecture, moving around the room to assist other students who raised their hands, Y/N found herself lost in thought– dreams swirling through her mind along with images of those captivating brown eyes and that gentle touch from earlier.

She couldn't shake off the feeling of anticipation for when class would finally end so they could be alone again. Her fingers tapped restlessly against her desk while she scribbled down notes faster than usual, eager for that moment to come soon enough.

The hour flew by quickly, ending far too soon for both their tastes "Alright class," Hyunjin said, clapping his hands together to gather the students' attention.

“That's all for today. Remember to study hard and ask me or any teaching assistant if you have any questions." The students packed their bags and chatted quietly before leaving the room, but Y/N remained in her seat.

She watched as Hyunjin tidied up the classroom, erasing the equations from the chalkboard with practiced efficiency. “ Don’t you think you were being a bit obvious back there?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes as he turned to face her.

Y/N felt her cheeks warm at his comment, realizing that perhaps she had been a bit too transparent in her feelings towards him. She mustered up her courage and rose from her seat, gathering her things as she walked towards him.

Maybe a little,she admitted with a shy smile, feeling a rush of boldness surge through her. “But can you blame me? You make trigonometry almost bearable.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but Hyunjin heard her loud and clear. He chuckled softly, the sound sending pleasant shivers down Y/N’s spine.

“Well, I suppose I can forgive you for that,” he teased, his eyes locking with hers in a way that made her heart flutter. “But you better be careful.

People might start putting two and two together and realizing there's more to our teacher and student dynamic than meets the eye.” His voice lowered, and he took a step closer, his gaze intense as he continued, “Unless... of course, you want them to know.”

The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, each word he spoke adding fuel to the fire that burned inside her. Y/N felt her breath hitch at his insinuation, her mind racing with the possibilities of what could happen if they crossed that line.

She met his gaze head-on, a mixture of desire and apprehension swirling in her eyes.

“Maybe I do want them to know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the empty classroom.

The confession hung in the air between them, heavy with implications. Hyunjin's expression softened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes before he took another step closer, closing the distance between them.

“Careful what you wish for,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over her lips as he leaned in, leaving no room for doubt in his intentions.

The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with desire as they stood inches apart. Y/N's heart raced in her chest, her breath hitching at the proximity of Hyunjin's lips to hers. Every fiber of her being yearned for his touch, for the forbidden thrill of crossing that line with her teacher.

Without another word, Hyunjin closed the final gap between them, his lips capturing hers in a searing kiss that sent a shockwave of electricity through her body. Y/N melted into his embrace, her hands reaching up to tangle in his hair as she deepened the kiss, matching his fervor with her own.

Y/N moaned softly against his lips, feeling the warmth of his mouth against hers. Her body trembled slightly, and she gripped the fabric of his shirt as a deep longing coursed through her veins. As their kiss deepened, time seemed to stand still.

Their tongues danced together, exploring each other's mouths in a way that felt illicit but oh-so-right. Breath mingled with the chalky scent of the classroom, creating an aroma unique to this moment.

Her heart raced wildly as his hands found their way to her waist before slinking upwards to cup her breast through her shirt. She gasped into his mouth, feeling his touch send shockwaves of pleasure down her spine.

Hyunjin couldn't help but let out a low groan, losing himself in the moment. He admired how she bit her lower lip teasingly, matching his boldness with her own growing confidence. He nipped at it playfully before trailing kisses down her neck and collarbone.

The sound of buttons popping loose echoed in the empty room as he undid them one by one until he could finally touch bare skin. His lips trailed lower, finding cherry-flavored sweetness with every new inch he explored.

His hands moved up her thighs Y/N's core clenched at his touch, and she gasped softly, her body begging for more. His hands slid up her skirt, finding the elastic of her panties, and she whimpered into his mouth.

It was intoxicating to be desired like this; to feel his fingers against her skin made her head spin. He pulled away from their kiss picking her up and placing her on his desk with a smirk, leaving her legs dangling over the edge.

Hyunjin kneeled between them and slowly pulled down her panties, revealing her wetness to him. His eyes widened at the sight before him, and he couldn't help but groan in frustration.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he whispered hoarsely, his voice thick with desire. Y/N smiled, tilting her head back as she felt him gently kiss her inner thigh, making his way closer to her core.

Her breathing became shallower, anticipation building inside her as she waited for what was to come. Hyunjin slowly licked her wetness, tasting her for the first time.

Y/N moaned softly, Arching her back slightly as he pleasured her with his tongue. Each lick, each suction, was sending waves of pleasure through her body, making her heart pound in her chest.

Hyunjin's soft touch sent shivers down Y/N's spine as his tongue found her folds, exploring her in a way that made her toes curl.

His fingers danced softly across her clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her. She gasped and arched into his touch, her back bowing off the desk as he teased her. "Oh god," she moaned, her voice trembling with desire.

His lips parted and he took her entrance between his lips, sucking gently as he buried his face in her wet heat. Y/N cried out softly, her hands fisting in his hair as her hips bucked in rhythm to his skilled tongue.

He loved the sound of her moans, the way her body responded to his touch, and he knew that he wanted more. He wanted to feel her beneath him, inside her, to make her scream his name in pleasure.

Y/N's climax was building within her, her entire body tensing as her orgasm approached. She could feel it pulsing through her, making her heart race and her breath come in gasps.

Her body was shaking, on the verge of collapsing in a wave of pleasure that she knew would leave her weak and vulnerable. She knew that she had to release it, to let go and surrender to the sensation that was building within her.

Hyunjin could sense it too, the way her body was trembling and the soft whimpers that escaped her lips. He gently sucked on her clit, feeling the pulsing throb of her desire as she came, milking it softly.

Y/N's cries of pleasure echoed through the empty classroom, each one making him harder. Hyunjin looked up at her in ecstasy, his own arousal evident as he admired her flushed face and trembling body.

He pulled his lips away from her core, and she whimpered in protest. "Shh," he whispered soothingly, pushing himself up from the desk and removing his tie and loosening his belt.

"I want to feel you wrapped around me," he murmured, his voice rough with desire.

Y/N could barely breathe as she watched him unbutton his shirt, her breaths coming in short, needy gasps.

Her eyes locked onto the bulge that pressed against his pants, and she knew they wouldn't be the only ones coming undone tonight.

Hyunjin stepped closer to her, and she could feel the heat emanating from his body. Y/N watched him, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for what was to come.

He stood between her legs, guiding himself inside her slowly, slowly until he was fully buried within her. She gasped, her head falling back as he filled her completely.

"You feel so good," he groaned, holding back the urge to thrust hard into her. He wanted to savor this moment, to feel her tight warmth surrounding him.

Y/N wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer, and he began to move slowly, steadily at first, building up a rhythm. His hips rocked into her, and she moaned softly, her body adjusting to his.

Y/N's eyes locked onto his, and she could see the raw desire in them. They were both lost in this moment, in each other. Hyunjin's gaze never left hers as he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder and more forceful.

Y/N's breath hitched with each powerful stroke, her body responding to his with a fiery need that surprised her. She moaned softly, her fingers digging into his back as he moved inside her.

Hyunjin's eyes never left hers, a mixture of lust and adoration reflected in their depths. “Hyunjin , please…” the breathless plea was all he needed. He increased the tempo, his body slamming into hers with a raw intensity that had her crying out in pleasure.

Her head thrashed from side to side, her lips parted in a silent scream as his hips moved faster, harder. He could feel his own release building, the tension within him coiling tighter with each thrust.

"I'm gonna come," he growled, his voice hoarse with desire. Y/N's eyes squeezed shut, her body convulsing with the same need.

Hyunjin grunted, slamming into her one last time before releasing himself, emptying himself inside her.

As his release spilled into her, Y/N felt a wave of pleasure wash over her, her body bucking against his one last time before collapsing back onto the desk.

She gasped for air, her heart pounding in her chest, her body still shaking from the intensity of the experience.Hyunjin's breath hitched as he struggled to catch his own breath,panting, his body still trembling from the release.

He gently pulled out of her, and she whimpered softly, feeling the emptiness left by his absence. He carefully lowered her back to the ground, his hands lingering on her skin for a moment longer before he cupped her face and brought his lips to hers.

Their tongues danced and twined together, their passion and satisfaction mingled in one last kiss.

Y/N broke away, her eyes wide with wonder as she looked up at him. "Hyunjin," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled at her, his eyes soft and full of love. "I know, Y/N." He replied, his voice filled with the same emotion. "I know."

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ HIDDEN HEARTSTRINGS Pt. 2 ]

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A/N: Don't kill me please guysss! I started like 3 classes last week so I haven't had time to write!

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ SLIGHT BDSM ] + [ CREAMPIE ] + [ BRANDING ]

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Swallowing your pride was easier said than done. Every nerve in your body screamed to move away from Alastor, cower somewhere safe and out of his reach, even if it wouldn't do you much good. He could do as he pleased with you, demand your obedience as he saw fit, and force your compliance without a second thought.

All of that imminent control loomed over your head and weighed your chest with anxiety while the courage to speak faltered, but as scared as he made you feel, he still felt like the safest person to be around.

Sitting there, in his lap, alone with no chance of avoiding him, was personalized torture. You hadn't muttered a completely coherent phrase since he'd brought you to the Radio Tower, face burning rose red as your brows knitted together with worry and your eyes fixed on the details of his suit rather than his face. You noted how smooth and taut the fabric spread over his form; you'd always been aware of how much larger the stag was compared to you; his thighs were firm against your ass which helped spread your softer ones apart. If you so much as shifted an inch or he decided to lift his leg, your skirt would ride up and reveal what was hidden underneath. A perfect position to rut in, a prime opportunity to alleviate the ache building in your cunt, but you refused to admit or show the desire to do so in his presence.

You'd have to take care of it yourself later in the evening like always. The objective of walking out of this intense situation was your concern at the moment, and so you lifted your head to stare at him, hopefully.

“What I said earlier…” you trailed off as Alastor hummed, a low crackle coating the noise as he brought a hand to rest under his chin. You watched as he leaned back, utterly relaxed, waiting for you to continue.

The smirk on his face annoyed you, a clear sign he either found your flustered state inconsequential or laughable. It wouldn't be abnormal for Alastor to react that way; it was his nature, and your fire little crush on him wouldn't change that.

I might as well get this over with…

Your face fell into a pout, hands raising to hug your arms to ease the goosebumps rising on your skin. “What I said earlier was in the heat of the moment. You're my master, and I see you as nothing more..”

The lie stung your tongue as it slipped off, gaze hardening to mask the disappointment felt in yourself for doing so.

Alastor remained silent; an elongated beat of anticipation hung above you both, growing denser as his predatory red eyes bore into yours. “I see,” he muses, voice low and thoughtful, but his smile strained.

“You feel nothing for me at all, my dear?”

You nod timidly, counting the seconds until he lets you off his lap and allows you to leave, “Nothing at all.” You repeat, gulping a whimper down as his free hand kneads the fat of your hips. “I'm not sure I believe that, darling. You’ll need to prove it to me.”

Your eyes widen, your tummy backflips, and your hands ball into tight fists as panic sets into your bones.

He couldn't be serious?!…

“W-what? How am I supposed to do that?!” you whined defiantly, frustrated with the stag and unbearably antsy.

Now, he was toying with you. Like always, you didn't deem that fair on his part -as if he ever played by any rules.

Alastor cocked his head to the side, “Oh, I think you're well aware of how sweetheart. It's truly a matter of what you prove to me by the end.” The commotion of radio static overlapped his voice heavily, emphasizing his hidden command with demonic prowess, and your body buzzed with unbridled fear at the sound.

What the hell is he talking about?..

Wait…

Within seconds, your brain caught up to his implication, and your hips instinctively bucked forward. Embarrassment crept up your spine, written all over your face as the overload chuckled at the impulsive action.

It would help if you had forced yourself up; you should've put up more of a fight as his hand on your hip lowered to slip under your skirt and up your inner thigh. It would help if you had leaped away, ran, or done anything to distance yourself and Alastor.

Yet, all you could manage was a soft, “Please don't..” as he touched you, but your plead received no compliance. Your body betrayed your consciousness; arousal pooled on his deft digits as he pushed two past your lace panties and straight into your eager cunt. The unusual invasion had your walls clamping down hard, spasming with need as he roughly curled his clawed fingers forward, and you yelped in shock at the immediate assault of your sweet spot. You weren't accustomed to being stretched by anyone else besides yourself, used to your fingers, but constantly thinking of having Alastor’s inside of you instead.

He was anything but a gentle demon, so you'd conclude that he'd be brutal in bed, but it still overwhelmed you. “You're not convincing me very well, little one.” his free hand found your face, clutching it tight as he dragged your head up to pull you closer. You whimpered as his nails pricked your soft skin, adding to the mix of agony and amazement you felt while he stretched your cunt in an unpredictable pattern.

“I. I don't feel anything for you. I’m not lying-ah! Nngh! Mm..” you writhed in his grasp, trying to pull away but only amplifying the friction of his hand against your cunt. Alastor pressed his palm to your clit, dragging a surprised scream from you as he rubbed slow circles on it. You lost it then, mind shutting off as he edged you tirelessly, and the added pressure on your bundle of nerves collided with the fullness his fingers provided.

Alastor hovered his lips above yours, drinking in your sultry whines and bashful moans. The fear never faded from your eyes; battling the lust that threatened to take its place and seeing the conflict in your innocent nature had his blood running hot.

Ruin you.

He wanted nothing more than to chip away at your indifferent demeanor, know just how soft and gullible you could be for him, and figure out how to abuse it until your soulbinding contract extended to ownership of your body.

His cock twitched to life at the thought of fucking you, dumb; hearing you admit over and over again that your affection for him knew no bounds doused his being in pure excitement.

A growl rumbled in Alaster's chest; his antlers grew larger with every desperate moan you let out, and his ears twitched upon hearing them reach a higher pitch.

You were dangerously close to your end, thighs quivering from the force of his hand thrusting against your slippery folds, slick dribbling down your inner thighs, which created an absolute mess on his lap.

“Look where your sweet little lie got you, my dear. Desperate for pleasure and willing to whore yourself out to me to prove a pathetic point..” The coil in your stomach wound tighter as the owner of your soul belittled you; the harsh word should've wounded you and made your senses reignite, but all it achieved was bringing tears to your eyes.

Bit by bit, your self-esteem declined, dulling the pride that ruled your heart and scattering to the furthest parts of your brain as he curled his fingers forward against a spongy sweet spot. “Oh fuck!” you shouted, trying to raise your hips away from him as a dizzying high rushed through your veins, steadying yourself by fisting the lapel of his suit for dear life. Alsstor turned his gaze downward, breathing in the scent of your cum with a pleased him vibrating in his chest as the creamy liquid drenched his hand, “Never imagined a tiny thing like you could make such a mess .” He slowed his pace, milking your cunt for all it was worth, marveling at how much cum he could extract from you with just his touch.

You shivered violently, choking on wanton screams and feeling lightheaded as he continued to stretch your gummy walls. If he didn't let up soon, you'd unravel again, faster than the first time, and so with the last bit of your self-awareness, you slumped forward into his chest before pulling your head to whisper in his ear.

“Wanna feel you, please.. I'll say whatever you wanna hear. Just fill me up, please.” The hold you had on his coat tightened, your claws elongating as a feverish need built in your core again, intensifying as Alastor nipped at your ear. You jolted, whimpering as his fangs drew blood from you, and the roar of white noise died down to allow his average voice clarity as he muttered into your skin. “Begging becomes you, my dear.”

The satisfied laugh he let out burned you, consumed you entirely, and though it felt cruel to hear it, you smiled proudly.

Your desperation pleased him. That was all you cared to know or think of as he withdrew his slender, blackened fingers from your generously stretched entrance. He left you empty, dripping with excitement and purring in his ear for more.

“Mmm, sweet, you are a little one. You should have a taste as well,” Alastor lapped at his hand, tongue lazily running from the heel of his palm to the tip of his claws, savoring your essence with a widening grin before pushing a single-digit pad on your lips. “Mphm,” you whine as you suck, eyes rolling as the mixture of your drool, his saliva, and the lingering residue of your cum dissipates onto your tongue like melting honey. He watched you intently, finding your willingness adorable, “Yes, just like that little one. Give me your all…show me how filthy you can be..”

His praise was enough to make you come again, untouched but gushing as if he'd shoved his fingers back inside you. The blush on your cheeks grew, shy whines spilling past your spit-slick lips, muffled as he replaced his hand with his own. Alastors tongue found yours, forcing it to compete for dominance, though it was apparent you were far from intelligent thought, and you let him explore your mouth as he pleased.

Borboun, blood, & brimstone.

That's what the Radio Demon tasted like, and you greedily accepted one heated kiss after the next, mewling and trembling as he sunk his fangs into your bottom lip. The deliberate pain he inflicted shocked you into a stupor; blood doused your tongue and consequently coated his as well. Alastor groaned in delight as you squirmed against helplessly, fearing the taste of your blood and afraid he'd draw more of it if you didn't break yourself away from him. He let you struggle, pants tightening at his crotch, an almost painful pulse coursing through his cock as your small body tried to peel away from him.

“Careful, little one,” he disconnects the kiss, breath fanning over your swollen lips as he warns you, and fear gets the better of you then.

Alastor could hurt you.

He would if it pleased him.

You'd crossed a line into territory no bound soul should ever do with its captor.

The limits you set not longer applied, thrown to the wind as the stag turned you in his lap, ripping your skirt and panties to shreds with a pass of his claws. You watched the fabric float to the floor at his feet, unconsciously shaking as he snaked his arms around your chest and waist, hugging you close like a puppet tied to his strings. You were exactly that, a frightful little thing who could barely think straight as he reached to undo the front of his pants, pulling his cock free with a heavy growl in your ear.

Your eyes went wide, feeling his length against your Lowe back, warm, throbbing, and not a size you could take in one go -let alone for the first time. “That's not going to fit-,” He rutted against you, silencing your apprehension with a statiky groan, “Nonsense, sweetheart. You've done splendidly for me so far. I know you'll be just fine..” Alastor had lost control of his voice, letting it slip into normalcy as lust clouded his judgment, and the minuscule deviation made you dizzy.

Did you entice him that much to the point he faltered in his persona?

Fascinating.

A shallow giggle left your lips as he mumbled obscenities into your ear, switching between adamant praise and shameless degradation while his shadow tendrils materialized around your thighs. You squealed quietly as they dug into your skin, lifting you off his lap just high enough to hover your count over his cock. “Take a breath, darling,” Alastair whispered, a hint of care in his tone, and you craned your head to give him a curious look, “Why-?! Alastor! Fuck, wait!-” You yelped as his shadows pulled you down onto him with force, knocking the wind out of your chest and gradually splitting your cunt open to fit him entirely.

It hurt like hell, as if you were being ripped down the middle, but as quickly as the agony began, pleasure burned in its wake. Alastair felt it first, antlers doubling my size as his claws dug into your skin and his patience waning thin. Your creamy walls engulfed him deliciously, a feeling he could only describe as heavenly, intensifying with every resistant jut of your hips.

“S’ too much! Al, please,” you cry, out of breath and lightheaded. One glance downward, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to take much more, a small mound already visible in your stomach and your cunt squelching as he shifted underneath you. “Oh, but you feel so divine, little one.” He coos in your ear, growling a curse when you sink on his cock inch by inch, and your hands fly to grip at his larger ones that rest over your breasts and abdomen.

His encouragement rings in your ears like bells, diverting your frenzied doubts long enough for your body to be tense, allowing his shadows to bring you down.

Thank satan, I’m dead already, or this would surely be my end…

Alastor groaned loudly, head tipping back, crackling waves of white noise emitting from him as you took all he had to offer. “Knew you could do it, baby. Fuck, I’m so proud…of you,” the overload drawled lazily, smiling softly as you went weak against him, mindlessly rolling your hips to take him deeper.

To hell with thinking about anything. You found no use for it being stuffed full with no choice of escape.

You thought about him all day.

Did what he asked of you, obediently and without complaint.

Caring for him was bound to happen; craving to know what it felt like to have him all to yourself couldn’t be helped, so why deny this glorious opportunity to quell both desires?

Strings attached or not, you wanted him and couldn’t bear lying about it any longer.

A sick smile etched its way onto your face, spreading wide as you took control of your hips, setting a timid pace to get accustomed to his size. Alastor huffed a laugh, head tucked in your shoulder, fangs nipping at any skin he could reach while you slid up and down his length. It was no easy task for a fragile demoness like yourself, the little strength you had dwindled quicker every time the head of his cock hit your cervix. Yet, you couldn't stop moaning louder, slamming down harder to feel the burning stretch that followed tingles of pleasure as your warm walls committed the very shape of him to memory.

Alastor peered at your face, red eyes glowing as they zeroed in on your twisted expressions—satisfaction, pain, determination, and desperation.

He'd never imagined you to make such faces, used to seeing your usual sweet smile that could melt the coldest heart or the delicate frown you'd present when something didn't go your way. You hid a lot from others, him exceedingly, and he couldn't be you for it.

However, if this is what you looked like, delirious and nearly fucked out, he wouldn't mind seeing you express yourself in his presence.

All that need in your eyes when you levered your head back, the stars in them when he began to meet your tired thrusts with vigorous ones of his own, and the blissful scream you let out in gratitude amounted to a resolution he'd previously set aside.

Owning your soul would never be enough.

No, the radio demon needed a tangible claim to you, a mark of some sort to let every being in hell know your body belonged to him.

“Tell me, do you wish to be mine, Y/n?…” he held your gaze, hands finding your hips to slow the rise of them, and you immediately whined an answer to his question from the loss of friction. “Yes..w-whatever you want from me, I'll g-give it… hmm.” your skin crawled as the knot in your stomach begged to slip free, enduring solid strokes from the demon holding you, shamelessly covering you into another deal.

One that'd leave more than a green chain around your neck.

Alastors ears twitched at your confession, signaling his amusement, but the action went unnoticed by you as he hovered a hand over your chest. “A wise choice, my dear,” he muses, a green glow passing from your palm to the center of your chest, eliciting an intricate sigil on your skin. You glanced down, admiring the distinctive red markings on your skin, and you could only describe the sight as endearing.

He hummed as you clung tighter to him, trying to speak but giving up as he relented his steady strokes to rapid thrusts. Your mouth fell open, back arching away from his chest as you erupted into a fit of high-pitched moans. It crossed your mind for a second that the entirety of hell might hear you, that heaven might very well know his name solely from your screams, but you could care less.

Alastor did not seem to mind either, grunting and growling in your ear lowly. The tremor of his overlay shattering as his cock twit he'd inside you and his grin pulling itself taut as your slippery cunt suffocated it in response. You were close, deathly aware of it too, but intended to last as long as he did.

Intended, but ultimately unsuccessful.

“For the love of- Alastor!” you groaned incredulously, losing your grip on reality as his shadows wrapped around your knees, bringing them in close together before pressing into your chest. The new angle made you feel every vein in his cock, how it fits just right in your womb, how hard it could press into your sweet spot.

It made you delirious within seconds, your horns revealing themselves and nails digging into the back of his hands viciously as your high reached its peak.

“Fuck!” Alastor hissed, disregarding his aversion to cursing while you came, walls holding him in with a vice-like grip. A shaky whine tumbled from you as your essence leaked out, coating his comic in a thick sheen and turning cold as it trickled down your skin.

There was so much of it, more than you were used to, but it made it all the easier for him to continue slamming up into you. “M’ going to come again if you don't stop,” you mumbled dazedly, body going weak as overstimulation raced through it, but Alastor paid your warning no mind. “Then so be it, little one,” he purred, voice more profound than usual as it ran in your head. You smiled mischievously, giddy after coming down from an intense high and on the verge of another as he used you like a ragdoll.

Your delighted giggles stirred Alastor, creating a lethal combination with your unapologetic smile as he chased his release. The red markings on your chest caught his eye, dimly glowing under his scrutiny and a visual reminder to you both what this exchange meant.

You reached a hand up to trace over the sigil on your chest, shivering as he watched your fingertips gingerly graze his binding on you. The docile action drew him over the edge, buried to the hilt inside you as he painted your walls white. You writhed in pleasure, mewling softly as your stomach swelled slightly, and your thighs shook from the intensity of your reaching end in the midst of his.

Alastor inhaled sharply, radio waves humming through the air as he finished, refusing to pull out of you entirely until he was sure you'd taken every drop of his cum. The specters on your legs vanished, leaving you to slump back into his chest, and you considered falling to the floor in fear he'd put you there himself.

You were surprised when he didn't do so, opting to settle his head in the crook of your neck while trying to catch his breath for a moment before sitting straight up again. Alastor let a beat of silence pass, straightening himself up to look decent but not saying a word to you as the air of lust evaporated. You frowned, a little hurt he wasn't speaking, but primarily concerned if you disappointed him.

You went to stand up, head hanging low as you considered what to do or say, but a force tugged you back down into his lap. The mark on your chest stung a bit, only calming when you felt his arm wrap around your waist, “M’ sorry!” you quickly rushed out an apology, afraid of his possible wrath, but he merely chuckled at your sudden fear.

“There's no need to fret, little one. I mean, you no harm from here on out so long as you remain at my side..” the stag emphasized his demand by trailing a hand from the cum induced hump in your abdomen to the etchings on your chest. A timid blush rose in your cheeks as the radio demon hummed melodically, admiring his work on you as he snapped his fingers. The room was no longer stuffy, spacious, and filled with his scent.

Your eyes trailed the expanse of the new view, familiar with it despite only visiting his room once before for a few moments. It felt cozier than you remembered, or maybe exhaustion was getting to you.

Whatever the case was, you were simply happy to be in his space, perplexed by the arrangement but grateful for it nonetheless. Alastor held you steady in his arms, letting you marvel at the room as he guided you toward the nearest sofa. “You don't have a bed?” you asked him innocently, concerned that he wasn't getting proper rest, but he didn't seem to be bothered by your questioning.

“I'm not one to rest often, my dear.” he sat you down on the plush couch, smile softening as you stared up at him, ears flattening while worry clouded your tired eyes. “How do you not sleep, Alastor? Aren't you ever tried?..” you looked him up and down, blushing as he laughed, “Are you always this curious, little one, or does your special interest in me make you bolder than usual?”

“N-no, it's just that…” you paused, watching as he summoned himself to change clothes, doing the same for you with a wave of his hand. Alastor took his time addressing, waiting for you to continue explaining with a knowing smile plastered on his face.

You avoided staring at him as he changed, catching a glimpse of scars on his body as he slipped on a white dress shirt, and you swore it looked just as good on him as the red and black one he always wore did.

“Don't keep me waiting, doll. Speak.” He scolded, amused by your stalling but not a fan of unfinished sentences. You gulped, becoming skittish as his command hung in the air, but complying within seconds

“I just hoped to spend a little more time with you. Besides what we just…” you couldn't put it into words, biting your tongue at the recent memory, and you half expected Alastor to disregard your implication, but he did nothing of the sort.

“The seal I've placed on you won't allow you to leave my side unless I explicitly give my permission. If you're asking to stay the night with me, I can assure you I've already decided you'll do so.”

You blinked, smiling wide as he rested a hand on your head, petting you just as he'd done in the hotel lobby.

“I don't think I'd ever want to leave your side anyway,” you mumbled absentmindedly, leaning into his touch as he crouched down to be eye level with you, “So, it's settled then. You'll need no one else besides me, correct?”

You nod, eyes lighting up with pure submission, “Yes, sir.”

xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxx

Someone said Alastor stands when he sleeps and just stares at a wall in his room and I think that's fucking haliarous. Imagine walking in on him sleeping and he literally flinches from shock and falls backward on his ass cause he doesn't realize he's fallen asleep until someone startles him. In all honesty he is me and I'm him cause I don't sleep either. ❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

He’s so…corny but fucking cute so I’ll let it slide THIS TIME… also I love it when his eyes narrow like oh my god yes glare at meeee silly red takes mann! ❤️ credit to creator!

[promenadewithme]

Glorious

a/n: I'm so sad that I accidentally lost the request for this! Long story short, I posted the unfinished story instead of saving it to my drafts, so I deleted it. It's been too long since I last posted and I promise I'll try to do so more often!! Also, this is my first time writing smut, so sorry if it's terrible!

Request: Cedric smut after quidditch practice

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Female! Reader

Warnings: smut (obviously), switch! Cedric (mostly sub), switch! Reader (mostly dom), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, people!!), edging, orgasm denial, friends cockblocking ced (poor baby), dirty talk, slight breeding kink, praise and degradation.

Word count: I have no idea, but A LOT. More than I expected, to be honest. I want to say 4k of smut? (Don't come at me, I'm horny)

If you like this, reblog or (if you can and want to) buy me a coffee!

Glorious.

That was the word that came to mind as the one and only Cedric Diggory flew after the snitch. Autumn had just begun but summer has left its heat. And that left Cedric shirtless during training.

He was far away from where you sat, but his lean muscles glowed under the sun, leaving goosebumps on your skin despite the heatwave.

With or without a shirt, seeing your boyfriend train was a huge turn-on. His brows furrowed in concentration, his muscles straining to stay balanced on the broom, his agility and keen eye, the competitiveness of it all.

Of course, in the end, it was just a bunch if people playing with balls of all shapes and sizes. You were particularly a big fan of fondling in the bedroom, so why not cheer your boyfriend on while he did the same?

'Ok, maybe not the same. But we can't all be athletic.' You thought, just as Cedric laid eyes on the snitch.

"Come on, Ced!" You cheered, jumping up and down in the stands along with some of the other player's significant others and Hufflepuff supporters.

He flew quicker by the second, reaching out into the clouds. The golden ball was fast, but Cedric was faster. Soon enough, he caught the snitch and both teams went wild for their seeker.

Even though it was just a practice game, you cheered and jumped. Cedric caught your eyes from the other side of the field and flew toward you.

Every game he did the same thing, it became your tradition. The moment he caught the snitch, he flew your way for a celebratory kiss before touching the ground to cheer with his teammates.

"Hello, darling" he said with a huge grin before connecting his lips with yours.

Cedric deepened the kiss, urging you to part your lips with a brush of his tongue. You felt the saltiness as you swiped your own against his lips, but you didn't mind.

His warm tongue connected with yours a second later, causing a tingling sensation between your legs.

Cedric pulled away entirely too quickly, leaving you closed-eyed and chasing his lips. With a cocky grin and a wink, he flew down to where his team had already started removing their gear.

He would definitely pay for his teasing later. For now, you hiked your skirt a bit higher and went to meet him beside the locker rooms.

The two of you locked eyes and you made sure to sway your hips a bit more. His gaze scanned your body hungrily.

Due to the warm weather, you had removed your socks and tie, as well as opened your shirt. It hadn't been on purpose, but you were glad you did. If looks could kill, you'd be splayed and torn apart on Cedric's dick. Your thighs squeezed together in anticipation.

"(y/n)! Wait!" Exclaimed Luna, trotting down the bleachers.

You cursed under your breath and Cedric laughed before going into the changing rooms.

You loved Luna, she was one of your closest friends, but reading the room was definitely not one of her strong suits.

"Hi" she sighed, going in for a tight hug.

"Hey, Luna" you hugged her back just as tightly.

"Would you like to study potions later? I could use your help"

"Sure." You answered, starting down the stairs again, Luna trailing beside you "Lake or library?"

"Oh, library. The lake has too many distractions, I have to stay focused this time."

"Alright, after Snape’s class?"

"Yes, that will work perfectly." She nodded, wrote it down on her hand and turned to leave before glancing back with a smirk "have a nice time with Cedric, but do try not to get caught."

You stood there gobsmacked.

Purposely cockblocked by Luna Lovegood.

You laughed before heading towards the locker room.

Two players headed out, waving your way, as you leaned against the wall opposite of where Cedric was.

Fifteen more minutes went by and three players had left. You crossed your arms and sighed.

'What in Merlin's name is taking so long?' You asked yourself, patience growing thinner by the minute.

When your watch marked twenty-five minutes since the players went in, the 6th player left and Cedric was still nowhere to be found.

You decided to wait five more minutes.

'You're just being impatient. Calm the hell down, (y/n)' you told yourself, taking a deep breath.

But 30 minutes was too much. Not for you, but for Cedric. He bathes like there's a ticking time bomb in the showers.

'Is he hurt?' The thought crossed your mind and your feet lead you inside.

The air was humid and hot around you.

"Cedric?" You whisper-yelled "I swear to Merlin, if you're dead in here, I'll kill you."

A groan made you stop in your tracks.

"Cedric?" You called out, moving towards the deep breathing.

Rounding the corner, you found a sight picked straight out of your dirtiest maladaptive daydreams.

Your boyfriend was naked and wet. Cedric's left hand tried to grip the wall, beads of water trailing down his tense biceps and lower. It flowed down his torso and lower even, to where his right hand held a tight grip around his cock, pumping up and down in a slow and sensual pace.

"Took you long enough" he said, a smirk on his face.

Striding towards him, you smirked right back. Removing your uniform and shoes, then, ever so slowly, your underwear. A groaning Cedric quickened his pace at the sight of you.

You entered the shower, closing the water, as Cedric released his dick and grabbed your waist, pulling you into him.

He went straight for your lips, just as slow and sensual as his former pace.

Your hands went separate ways. One towards his hair, that pulled the short strands back to break the kiss. The other wrapped around his arousal, stroking till the tip.

The mixture of both sensations had Cedric moaning your name fervently.

"Who said you could start without me?" You whispered in his ear.

"Didn't mean to, didn't think you'd take this long to come find me" he replied, kissing your neck right where he knew your knees would go weak.

"You'll still have to pay for your hastiness."

"You know I love your punishments, darling" he grins and catches your lips in a passionate kiss. Tongues circling, teeth clashing and bodies drawing impossibly closer.

Your hand started stroking his swollen flesh again, drawling low and soft moans from his lips.

"I know, love." You soothed, but your hand only moved faster, your grip tighter.

A string of curses escaped his lips.

"(y/n)" he whimpered.

"You're so close, aren't you?" You cooed.

"So close, so close" he answered frantically.

"Not quite yet, I can't let you off the hook that easily." You said, halting your movements.

He let out a dissapointed groan.

"Don't be ungrateful, darling." You teased, "You'll come soon enough"

A bead of pre-cum leaked from his tip. You gathered it in your thumb and brought it to your lips, sucking the saltiness seductively.

Cedric's pupils were blown wide and an almost primal look took over his features.

You grabbed his neck and kissed him with everything you had, doing all the things you knew would drive him wild, then pulled away. He was left closed eyed, chasing your lips.

But you hadn't had all your fun yet. With a grin on your face, you turned around and headed towards your clothes.

"Darling?" he asked.

You ignored him, putting on your shirt and probably missing a few buttons in the process. You saw Cedric grab his towel, a confused look on his face. You put on your skirt and threw your lace underwear his way. He grabbed them with slightly wide eyes.

"I'd get ready quickly if I were you. If I wait too long for you, I might start by myself." with a wink, you left a bungling Cedric hurriedly drying himself.

You let out a low giggle while strutting out the locker rooms. You were leaving the field when Cedric caught up with you, shirt half open, your lace panties between his teeth, and still buttoning up his pants.

You stifled a giggle at the sight and walked faster. He tripped, but managed to catch himself.

Before long, he was fully dressed and walking fast beside you, glancing your way every few seconds with a giddy smile on his face.

That is, until Harry Potter started calling after him.

His eyes widened slightly, he grabbed your arm and said "Don't you dare stop walking"

With a playful smile on your face, you released your arm from his grip and turned towards the griffindor.

"Hello, Harry!" You smiled widely, mosty because of the impatient look on Cedric's face.

"Hey, (y/n)," he turned towards your boyfriend "Cedric, can I talk to you for a second?" the boy looked at you for a split second before returning his gaze to Cedric "Alone."

"Actually, we-"

"Of course! Take your time, Harry!" You answered, overly amiable.

As you started walking away, Cedric grabbed your arm again.

"(y/n)'s not feeling very well, I have to take care of her. Can we do this another time?"

"Oh, nonsense! You know I can take care of myself." You said, untangling yourself from him, "Besides, I feel much better now. I might even -"

Your words were cut off as Cedric pulled you against his chest.

"I'm sure (y/n) won't tell a soul, there's nothing you can say to me that you can't say to her."

Harry reluctantly started saying something about some girl. Maybe Cho? Ginny? You had no idea. You were too busy feeling Cedric's hard cock against your backside, his hands pressing at your stomach to hold you as close as possible.

You looked up at him and he had a smug look on his face. He knew what he was doing.

His lips were moving, but all you could thing about was his dick inside you, pounding over and over again until your whole body shook.

"What do you think, (y/n)?"

Your name pulls you back from your lustful state and you realise the words came from Harry. He looked doubtful and insecure. You understood him, you'd been in a similar situation after all. Who never has? Pining after someone and not knowing if they'll ever want you back? Too shy and insecure to do anything about it? It was a universal experience.

"I think that I never would have told Cedric about my feelings if he didn't make the first move. I never would have told him how I felt and we wouldn't be together now." You held Cedric's hands on your stomach and smiled at the memory of him first coming to speak with you.

"I think that you will never know how she feels if you never ask. Life is about taking risks. Sometimes it doesn't work out, but that only means that person wasn't the one for you. You are remarkable, Harry Potter. If anyone does not want you it's their loss, not yours. And if they do want you, they'll be extremely lucky to have you."

The boy was blushing by the end of your speech and Cedric smiled down at you.

"D'you really think so?" he asked, but a smile pulled at his lips.

"I do." you answered sincerely.

"Ok, Potter, cheers mate. We gotta go." Cedric said, taking your hand, not waiting for a reply before jogging through the halls, dragging you along with him.

Your laughter echoed through the halls and your stomach clenched in anticipation. Cedric lead you down the stairs and past the kitchens, his face no longer humorous.

He tapped the rhythm to "Helga Hufflepuff" on the right barrel and immediately pushed through, pulling you along with him. You both made your way to his dorm, thanking Merlin once again that prefects have individual rooms.

The click of the lock closing resonated through the room and the only noise left was your heavy breathing as you gazed as one another.

You made the first move, slowly unbuttoning your shirt and leaving it to fall on the floor. Cedric watched, unmoving, as you unzipped your skirt and let it fall as well.

You leaned against the door and he looked at you with a predatory gaze, but you both knew who was in charge.

"Kneel." you commanded and Cedric immediately obeyed, falling to his knees in front of you, holding the back of your thighs.

"Did I say you could touch me?" you asked, raking your hands through his hair.

He removed his hands from you, but begged "I need you so much, please. Can I make you come?" his pupils were blown wide, his brows furrowed, and his erection pressing against his pants.

"Only because you asked so nicely" you answered sweetly and Cedric sighed, his head falling to your mound.

His hands massaged your buttocks as he gave you kisses so close yet so far to where you needed him most.

"Now," you breathed "you are going to give me head and make me cum. Can you do that, baby?"

"Please," he whimpered, kissing your mound, "wanna taste you so bad, darling."

"Go ahead, Ced."

He immediately complied, hiking your right leg over his shoulder and licking from your entrance to your clit. You gasped, steadying yourself against the wall and he moaned against you.

"Always taste so good, my love."

Cedric licked and sucked like a starved man, tearing moan after moan from you.

"Cedric" you whimpered, gripping his hair to bring him closer or push him away. You didn't even know anymore.

He swirled his tongue around your clit before lowering his mouth to your entrance again and plunging his tongue inside. Your groan was loud enough for anyone in the hufflepuff common room and adjacent to hear as he fucked you slowly with his tongue.

"Just like that, baby."

He complied, keeping the same rhythm. In and out, in and out.

Your walls started clenching and warmth spread across your lower stomach, but it still wasn't enough.

"I need more." you said, looking down at him.

Like a good boy, he started stroking your clit with his thumb and worked his tongue faster.

Like that wasn't enough, he looked up at you and just the sight of him on his knees for you, with disheveled hair, eating you out while his spare hand stroked his cock would have brought on your first orgasm.

Your body shook and your knees gave out, but Cedric still held you and kept using his tongue to help you ride out your high.

When it was too much, you pulled his head away from your core by his hair.

"You were so good, my love." You caressed his face "Until you started touching yourself."

"I wasn't going to make myself come, I swear." He stood up "I just wanted to feel good."

"I'll make you feel good, baby." you dragged your finger and nails down his torso, leaving goosebumps as you told him to lie down on the bed.

"Finish taking your clothes off," you said, looking around "I want you naked when I get on that bed."

Finding what you were looking for, you crawled over your boyfriend's body and sat down on top of his erection. The direct contact with your heat made him swear.

You put his arms above his head and bound his wrists to the headboard with your house's tie.

"Please, I swear I won't touch myself." he pulled at the tie "I just wanna touch you, darling."

"Oh, I can't let you do that." you propped your hands on his chest and started a tortuously slow drag of your hips up and down his length, "You've been misbehaving a lot this afternoon. You only get to touch me when you've been a good boy."

"I'll be a good boy, I promise." he whimpered.

"We'll see about that." you answered, grinding a bit faster against him.

His hands were white from pulling at the tie, his breathing laboured and his hips shaking with restraint.

You leaned forward, your breasts falling to his face, "Suck on them."

He leaned towards them and captured your left nipple with his mouth. His nibbling and sucking tore moans from you and made you fasten your pace on his cock.

"Gonna come soon." he managed before turning his attention to your right nipple.

You took his jaw in your hand and kissed him passionately before resting your forehead against his.

His cock started twitching beneath you and Merlin if it didn't bring you an instant from your second orgasm, but you pulled away all at once.

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes and his dick kept spasming, his hips bulking.

Cedric whimpered.

"I know, I know." you cooed "You're doing so good, but I'm not done punishing you just yet."

You connected your lips one last time before making your way to the foot of the bed, caressing his leg as you walked. The growing wetness and incessant pulse between your thighs made you clench them.

"You did so good at training today, Ced." you praised him, "And you looked so handsome, too."

You got on the bed once more, between his legs this time, and he looked down at you.

"Wanted your pretty cock in my mouth the whole time."

He moaned as you started stroking his length, a bead of pre-cum falling onto your hand.

"Please, I want to be inside you." he begged, thrusting into your hand.

"Soon enough, my love." you answered kissing his tip, earning you a hiss "Have patience."

Your mouth watered as you looked at his engorged member, hard against his abs. All flustered cheeks, glistening skin, and shallow breaths, Cedric awaited your next move.

"Glorious." You breathed to yourself, but the seeker flushed even more from the praise.

Your eyes went back to his cock and the vein on the underside was your first target. You heard his moan as you licked him from base to tip, then took him inside your mouth all at once.

His hips bulked and his head hit the back of your throat, making you gag. Your pulse quickened everywhere.

Bobbing your head up and down, sucking harder at the head, you pushed Cedric closer to the edge.

He moaned your name like a prayer, over and over, and you kept up your pace even as tears fell from your eyes and drool spread down your chin.

"Touch my balls." He gasped and you complied, smiling around him.

You cupped and massaged his scrotum, already heavy with cum and you imagined all that inside of you. Moaning at the thought, you gave Cedric one last suck before getting up on your knees to untie him.

His hands flew to your hips and his lips to yours.

"You had your fun, darling, now it's my turn." he said, voice deep and eyes dark. His pupils were so dilated you could barely see the usual grey.

Holding your body to his, he flipped the both of you and looked down at you with one arm holding his weight beside your body, the other hand softly grazing your body.

"Hello, gorgeous." he smiled, diving to kiss you.

You kissed him back, tongues caressing each other and hands roaming.

Two fingers slid from your entrance to your clit and you shuddered.

"So wet for me, aren't you?" he took his digits to his lips and sucked them clean, you bit your bottom lip to contain a moan.

The sight alone could have made you cum.

"I need you to use your words, darling. I'm going to fuck you into the mattress right now, alright?" he said, caressing your face.

The contrast between his words and his tenderness had you squirming "Please." was all you could manage.

Taking his swollen cock, he teased you, dragging the head up and down your slit then circling your clit.

"Hurry!" you whined and he immediately obliged, completely sheathing his cock in your entrance.

Both gasping, your walls clenched around him and Cedric steadied himself against the bed.

Your mingling breaths evened out a bit before Cedric slowly pulled out until the tip and rutted back in again.

One of your hands shot up to hold his biceps while the other splayed against his back.

His length hit deep, hard and slow, making you dizzy.

He moaned your name in your ear, hair brushing the side of your face. Your legs made their way around his waist, letting him hit even deeper and you clenched harder around him.

"Fuck, darling." he groaned, quickening his pace "Need you to come for me, can you do that?"

His every thrust lead you to your second orgasm. How deep he hit, the moans and grunts he let out, how every plunge of his hips rubbed against you clit, the look he had in his eyes.

Every one of your muscles clenched and shook, Cedric moaned, and you let out a cry as blinding pleasure exploded through your body.

Even as you came down from your high, the thrusts didn't stop. If anything, they were harder and faster.

Cedric pulled out and turned you over, bringing your ass towards him. He plunged himself in again and continued his thrusts just as deep and fast as before.

You bit the pillow as he gave your ass a smack, but he still heard your low groan.

"You like that, don't you?" he spanked you again, a bit harder this time, and you cried out "My pretty little cock slut."

You moaned incoherently as he hit just the right spot over and over.

"Gonna come inside you, darling." he grunted.

Grabbing one of his hands placed on your hips, you looked back at him and, as always, the sight was glorious.

Cedric could have been sculpted by the gods themselves, with a layer of sweat that made his skin glow, veins and lean muscles bulging, and sexual prowess you were sure no human should have been made to have.

Interlacing your fingers, he looked into your eyes then shot his head up and his thrusts became sloppier. His dick started swelling inside you and you moaned. He was close and so were you.

"Fill me up, Ced. Wanna be so full of you." was the last thing you managed to say before your walls clenched tightly around him and you let out a silent scream.

Cedric poured out a string of curses and gave one final deep thrust before you felt his release coat your walls. Breathing laboured and bodies exhausted, he fell to his side and brought your body with him.

"You did so good, baby." he praised, kissing your hair, then asked sweetly "Do you need anything? Water, a bath?"

You turned around and curled into him "Just you."

He smiled and kissed your forehead "You'll always have me."

"I love you." you murmured into his chest.

Cedric's heart swelled in his chest and he said "I love you." but you were already asleep.

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[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

A TRAGEDY THAT'S BUILT ON DESTINY!

I WOULD CHANGE MOST EVERY SINGLE THING. I WOULD LET YOU KISS ME, KILL ME!

synopsis// multiple different universes, but one thing remains the same: geto loves you in each and every one of them.

pairing// suguru geto x gn!reader

word count// 5.8k

contents// different universes, angst, satisfying angst?, hurt/no comfort but also hurt/comfort at the same time, ooc geto?, character death tehe

notes// inspired by everything everywhere all at once and the song kiss me kill me by mest :3 i wrote this SOOOO long ago but u have no idea how much i adore this oneshot. like i think it might be my fav oneshot ive ever written. it is everything to me!! and i did not do the idea justice but u get the point!!

December 24th 

You assume the fight is over because neither you nor Shoko have gotten any more wounded victims. The two of you glance at each other briefly but don’t bother saying anything. What could be said about a full-blown borderline war schemed by your high school best friend and lover? Nothing could possibly be said, so nothing is. The two of you stand there waiting for anything to happen, whether that’s getting called back to Jujutsu High or being brought another victim, and eventually something does happen, and Shoko gets a call. You can’t read her expression for the whole 20 seconds she’s on the phone before she passes it to you. You furrow your eyebrows in question.

“It’s Gojo,” she says blankly before attempting to hand you the phone again.

You hesitate to answer. “Hello?”

“You should get down here,” he says blankly over the phone.

“What? Why? Is everything okay?”

“Um, yeah, just—you know those back alleys by the school?”

“Uh huh?”

“Meet me there.”

“Gojo, you’re kinda scaring me-“

“Y/N, just come; you’ll thank me—I hope.”

You frown and begrudgingly agree, “Okay, fine, yeah, whatever, I'm on my way.”

“Make it quick, alright? I'm serious,” he adds quickly before hanging up.

As you give Shoko her phone back, you roll your eyes at the fact that he didn't even give you a chance to say okay before hanging up.

“What was that about?” she wonders, slipping her phone back into her pocket.

You sigh. “No idea, but he wants me to go meet up with him for some reason.”

Shoko hums curiously. “You should get going then; must be urgent.”

You nod, “Yeah.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

It doesn't take you long to get to the school given how fast you were walking since Gojo told you to hurry it up, the tense anticipation aiding in your speed. It does, however, take you a few moments to find Gojo, but once you do, you find that he's not looking at you, but he’s speaking, and it's not to you either; it's to something—or rather someone—he's blocking with his body.

“Gojo?” you ask once you finally reach him.

Gojo turns to face you, a sorrowful smile on his face, before stepping out of the way to reveal who he was speaking to and the whole reason why he called you here in the first place.

When you see Getou on the ground, your heart sinks into your stomach, and your blood runs cold. You look back at Gojo, who merely shrugs.

“You should say your goodbyes; I already did,” Gojo whispers before leaving you and Getou alone.

Getou lets out a hushed laugh. “That’s a little melodramatic of him, don’t you think?”

The hammering of your heart roaring in your ears makes it difficult to hear what he says. You stand there frozen in what you can only describe as horror as you stare down at Getou, who's missing an arm and is only growing more pale by the second from blood loss.

“Do you plan on ignoring me?” he asks softly, as though he’d understand if that really was your plan.

You blink a few times and shake your head, your tears blurring your vision. “I dont-“ 

Getou hums appreciatively and smiles up at you, which makes you completely break down, a sob racking through your body so violently that the only thing you can do is collapse to your knees. Getou winces as he tries to sit up straighter, as if he’s going to catch you or crawl over to you. You sniffle, your sobbing uncontrollable, as you crawl to him, and once there, you let your head fall upon his blood-stained chest. Getou immediately places his only remaining hand on the back of your head, as if holding it to his chest, and gently pats your head.

“Are you an idiot?” you snap.

“Might be.” 

You sob even harder into his chest. “Why would you do this?”

Your question makes his heart race. “I wanted something better for Jujutsu society.”

You shake your head at him disapprovingly. “Why’d you have to go about it this way?”

“I don’t know Y/N," he sighs. "Does it make a difference?”

You scoff, raising your head to glare at him. “Of course it does, you idiot! You left! and had a hit placed on you! Why couldn’t you have just stayed?” You sob, letting your head fall back onto his chest. “Why couldn’t you have wanted me as much as you wanted this? Why couldn’t... Why couldn’t you have wanted me as much as I wanted you?”

“Y/N,” he coos regretfully, as if he doesn’t know what to say, which he doesn’t. He did want you, and he’d even go as far as saying he wanted a better jujutsu society for you so you wouldn’t have to live your days slaving away for the non-sorcerers. “Y/N, look at me.”

You shake your head and screw your eyes shut, not wanting to look at him. You don’t want to see your first and only love withering away right in front of you.

“Y/N, please look at me.”

“I-I can't."

“Y/N, open your eyes.”

The demandingness dripping from his voice has your head shooting up to look at him and your eyes opening wide, but as you open them, you’re not met with an actively dying Getou; you're met with a sunny and flower-filled meadow? You move to wipe your tears, but your face is dry. You blink a few times, trying to take in your new surroundings, given that a moment ago you were just in a dark alley and now you're sitting on a blanket in a field under a glowing sun.

“Y/N?” Someone speaks from beside you.

Your attention is drawn to the person. “Getou?” 

He smiles at you.

“Getou, where are we?” you ask, now starting to slightly panic.

He looks at you in confusion. “We’re on our date?”

Your chest heaves up and down, and you're more confused than ever. “Huh? But- We-“ 

“We what?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“We were just behind Jujutsu High; you were missing your arm, and-"

Getou scoots in closer to you and cradles your face in his hands. The feeling of a warm, full-of-life Getou touching you brings tears to your eyes all over again.

“Woah, woah, love, calm down. What are you talking about? Jujutsu High? Me missing an arm?”

“You don’t remember?” You croak out, distraught, and slightly convinced that you’re going crazy.

“Remember what, love?” he asks softly.

You stare at him in disbelief. “The fight—you wanted a better jujutsu society, and you tried? You lost your arm! You were dying; I saw you! I was there with you! You were covered in blood and-“ 

Getou gently wipes your tears away. “Love, that didn’t happen. I’m here, yeah? and I have both my arms, and there was no fight for Jujutsu society? Whatever that means..."

You blink at him, dumbfounded. “What?” 

“It was probably just a bad dream, Y/N.” He smiles at you reassuringly.

“You don’t know about jujutsu society?”

“Am I supposed to?”

You stare at him in awe. What’s happening? How could he not know about jujutsu society when it was the very thing he was fighting for? But then again, how could he not be missing an arm? And how could the two of you not be in a dark alleyway right now? How could any of this be happening? Maybe he’s right; maybe it really was a bad dream. A very vivid, detailed, lucid, and lifelike bad dream.

“I guess not,” you respond with a frown.

Getou wipes away your last few tears and smiles at you. “You’re okay; I’m okay. We’re okay. It was just a bad dream, love.”

“Yeah,” you say haltingly, "yeah, I guess it was..."

“Are you okay now?”

You nod as you take one of his hands off your face and into your own. “Yeah, I think so... Um, where are we, Getou?”

“On our weekly date?” He answers curiously as he removes his other hand from your face.

You look around at your surroundings curiously. “In the middle of a forest?”

“This is your favorite place, Y/N,” he says, quizically.

As you take another glance around, you hum, not necessarily agreeing or disagreeing. “I can see why; it’s beautiful here.”

He raises his free hand and grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Y/N, are you okay? How come you don't remember?”

You look into his eyes, and something doesn't feel right—as if you're not meant to be here—but you digress and shrug anyway. “I don't know...”

He frowns briefly before leaning in and giving you a quick peck on the lips, and you practically melt, having not felt his lips on yours for far too long.

“That's alright. We can still make the most of the rest of our day, right?”

You nod, and he smiles at your response, letting go of your face and hand to open his arms to you, inviting you into his embrace. You return the smile before laying yourself in his arms, trying to ignore the rising feeling that something is wrong, but you can't because the minute your head touches his chest, you're thrown into a moment, a memory, a dream? where you're back in the alley with your head on a bleeding-out Getou, and it's just for a split second, a flash in time, but it's enough to make you go stiff and your breath hitch.

Getou rubs his hand down your back soothingly. “Hey, what's wrong?”

You swallow harshly and try to concentrate on the green scenery in front of you rather than whatever you keep seeing. “Nothing, I'm fine. It's fine.”

Getou places his head on top of yours. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “I am.”

He hums disapprovingly but doesn't press the issue any further; instead, he just runs his hand up and down your spine in an attempt to calm you down, which works as you begin to relax into his embrace and regain control of your breathing.

“What do we usually do here?” you ask, breaking the silence.

He shrugs. “Usually just talk about our days, our future plans, and stuff like that.”

You hum. “Is it nice?”

“Very nice; I like spending our days together.”

“I do too,” you correct yourself, “or I'm sure I did too.”

Getou doesn't say anything; instead, he lays himself down and, since he's holding you, takes you with him. You sigh contentedly and let your eyes flutter close, the sun and his hold keeping you warm. Suddenly, even with your eyes closed, you can tell it's getting brighter outside, and you groan. You’re about to ask what's up with the sun when a shooting pain in your head causes you to wince. Your heartbeat rings in your ears, and you can feel your hands grow clammy.

You feel unstable, as if you're no longer on the ground being held, as if you're floating through time and space, and the uncertainty forces your eyes open, but you're not met with anything—no, that's not right, you're met with everything, glimpses of time that you can barely make out. One moment you see Getou at an alter, and then you see you and Getou nodding to each other in determination, and the next glimpse is of you, Getou, Gojo, and Shoko laughing about something before you’re hit with another shooting pain in your head. Screwing your eyes shut, you hiss in pain, and all too suddenly, you're back on stable ground, no longer floating, and the brightness you could see through closed eyes a moment ago is gone.

You still hesitate to open your eyes, unsure of what you'll see, but when you can just barely make out that you're not where you were before, your eyes shoot open. You're now standing in the doorway of what appears to be the room of two teen girls, and Getou is sitting at a vanity staring at you; his hair and make-up are done, and he's frowning. Despite your confusion about where you are, you can't help but burst out into a fit of laughter.

He sighs and rolls his eyes. “Oh haha, yeah, keep laughing.”

You slap your hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laughter. “What happened?”

He crosses his arms over his chest and looks away, mumbling, “Our daughters thought I would make a very good model, apparently.”

You go to laugh again, but it hits you, and you look at him like he's crazy. “Sorry, daughters?”

He returns the look. “Yes? Our kids?”

You look away, muttering to yourself, “We have kids...”

You didn't mean for him to hear it, but he does anyway and instantly stands up and makes his way toward you. He grabs your shoulders, drawing your attention to him, and when you look at him, he's staring back at you in concern.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You want to take him seriously, but truthfully, you can't when he’s wearing bright pink lipstick and bright pink eyeshadow. He does look cute, though. You try to bite back a smile.

“I'm sorry, but I can't take you seriously when you look like that.”

Getou sighs. “I know I look amazing. Can you try to ignore my beauty for like five seconds and tell me why you’re acting like you don't remember our kids?”

You frown. What are you supposed to tell him? That you're apparently having nightmares upon nightmares about different lives with him? And now you're not sure what's real and what's not? You can't say that, so instead you shrug and merely mutter, “You do look amazing like that, though.”

His head drops to the side at the same moment that his smile fades. “Y/N.”

“I don't know.”

“You don't know?”

“Some really weird shit is going on, Getou,” you breathe out heavily.

He doesn’t say anything, instead grabbing your hand and leading you to one of your apparent kids' beds, where he sits you down.

“What’s going on?”

“I don't know, and you wouldn't know either so,” you explain vaguely in frustration.

He gives your hand a squeeze. “Maybe I would?”

You shake your head. “I don’t wanna waste time on that; I don't know how long I have here.”

“What?” he asks blankly. “What do you mean you ‘don't know how long you have here’?”

“Getou,” you whine, not wanting to think or talk about it because you wouldn't even know where to start; all you want is to learn about this new nightmare and what it holds.

He relents. “Okay, I won't ask.”

You smile at him and let a moment of silence pass before asking, “What are they like?”

“Huh?”

“Our kids—daughters.”

Getou hums. “They’re great; we raised them well.”

“They are especially great at making you a model, huh?” you snicker. 

He laughs and rolls his eyes. “Oh whatever, you're just jealous they never make you model.”

You shrug. “What are their names?”

“Well, we were gonna keep the names they had when we adopted them, but they ended up not having any names at all, so we settled on Nanako and Mimiko.”

You stare at him in awe. “Did you pick the names out?”

“We both did,” he recalls fondly and vividly, as if it were just yesterday that the two of you were picking out names.

“And we are...?”

He kisses your cheek before answering, “Married—we’re married.”

You hum and raise your left hand, your gaze fixed on your ring finger. “I don't see a ring?”

He hums curiously. “You were wearing it this morning? Maybe you dropped it somewhere?”

You nod. “Yeah.. Maybe..”

Getou doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t know what to say. What could he? His partner of multiple years suddenly has some form of amnesia and can't remember that they have kids, let alone that they’re married to him. You turn to face Getou. He looks like Getou—like the Getou you know, who apparently was merely a nightmare. Besides all the makeup and stuff, he looks like Getou. He says he’s Getou, but something just feels off.

“Are you real?”

He nods. “Very real.”

You look around the room, taking in the messy vanities, the messy beds, and the drawers stuffed with clothes. “Are our kids real?”

“Extremely real.”

You study his face for any hint of uncertainty, and when you find none, you ask, “Am I real?”

He narrows his eyes at you and hums curiously. letting go of your hand only to bring both hands up to your face and start smooshing your face together, pushing and pulling at the flesh on your cheeks.

“Getou,” you mumble.

He hums approvingly and nods, letting his hands fall back to his sides. “Yep, you’re real.”

You smile at his idiotic antics but appreciate them nonetheless. And although you can touch him and feel him, and he is real, as are you and your kids, it still doesn't seem real. And then, all too suddenly, your head starts throbbing again.

“Fuck no, not again,“ you panic.

“Y/N? whats wrong-“

You can't hear what he’s saying anymore; it's like you've gone underwater and he's speaking to you from the surface. Another shooting pain in your head has your eyes screwing shut, and you know you're fucked when all you can hear is your heartbeat ringing in your ears and feel your hands grow clammy all over again. You’re back to feeling unstable, drifting between time and space once more, and just like last time, the uncertainty of the feeling forces your eyes open, and you're faced with everything again—more glimpses in time that you can barely make out.

One moment you think you see yourself back at the beginning on Getou’s cold chest, and then you see yourself and Getou covered in blood, and you're not sure if it's yours or someone else's, and the next glimpse you see is of Getou on your cold chest, like your roles had been reversed, before you’re hit with another shooting pain in your head. Screwing your eyes shut, you wince in pain, and finally you're back on solid ground again, no longer floating, and the brightness you could see through closed eyes a moment ago is gone. This time you don't hesitate to open your eyes, and you find yourself in a cemetery.

You look around curiously, trying to assess your surroundings while simultaneously trying to recover from whatever just happened. But you're starting to realize something now. All of this is real. You laying on Getou’s chest was real; having a picnic with a perfectly fine Getou in a world where curses apparently don't exist was real; having kids and marrying Getou was real; and all of those little bits of time in between each new life were real. All of it was real—is real; all of it happened—is happening; it just didn't happen to you specifically. Not this version of you, at least. You’ve realized that you’re experiencing different universes and living alternate lives of your own. You didn’t think alternate universes existed, but it's not too hard to accept when the world you live in—the world you belong to—is riddled with curses and sorcerers. You are not above believing in alternate dimensions.

Finally over your sudden epiphany, you're able to realize that you weren't immediately met with Getou like you had been the past two times you got transported into another dimension. As you put the pieces together, a grave feeling washes over you—no Getou, and you’re in a cemetery. You swallow harshly.

No, no, no.

You start running around the cemetery, inspecting each and every headstone, and praying to the universe(s) that you aren't about to find one that reads his name.

No, no, no.

You keep running, the cemetery seemingly interminable, until you run up behind someone who looks suspiciously a lot like Getou, and when you hear him murmur under his breath, you sigh heavily in relief that it is him, but why is he here? You tilt your head and try to look around him to read the gravestone.

“What the fuck?” you exclaim, stunned.

Getou spins around faster than you can even blink, and he almost chokes on his spit. “Y/N?” His chest heaves up and down as he shifts his gaze between you and the gravestone. “But-but-how-you’re-“

“Dead apparently,” you say, finishing his sentence as you stare at the gravestone that reads, "HERE LIES L/N Y/N."

He stares at you, completely bewildered, and you can see him trembling. “How—how are you here?”

Will something bad happen if you tell him this isn't your universe and there are actually multiple universes out there? Who knows, but you’re about to find out.

“I'm not, well, I'm not supposed to be.”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “I'm just hallucinating; you’re not real.”

His reply breaks your heart. “I am real.”

“You’re not.”

You step forward, taking his hand in yours. “I am.”

He finally opens his eyes back up, and he stares at you through tears, completely amazed that you're here, that you're actually touching him, and that you're actually alive and real.

“I don't—I dont understand—you're dead!” He stammers, yanking his hand from yours, and as he breaks out into full-on sobs at this point, he’s reminding you an awful lot of yourself in your own world.

You nod slowly. “In this universe, it seems so... how?”

“What?” he stutters. “This universe?”

You ignore his question. “How did I die, Getou?”

He shakes his head sternly. “No, I'm not saying anything until you explain what you meant. What if you’re a curse? What if I cursed you, holy fuck? Fuck!”

“Okay, curses still exist in this universe; good to know,” you acknowledge with a nod.

Getou snaps, “What are you talking about!?”

You flinch, which only makes him sob harder.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap—I'm just so fucking confused; you're supposed to be dead,” he bawls as he falls to his knees.

You take another step closer and kneel down, drawing him into your embrace and letting him sob into your chest for as long as he needs, ignoring the horrible feeling of deja vu crawling all over you like worms.

“Shh, you're okay,” you whisper, soothingly brushing your fingers through his hair.

He finally starts to calm down after a few more minutes of whispering sweet nothings to him, and once he’s no longer sobbing, he pulls away.

“Answer my question, and I'll answer yours,” he says through sniffles.

You nod. 

“What were you talking about, universes? How are you here, Y/N? You’re dead—or you’re supposed to be...”

“Do you believe in alternate or multiple universes?”

He shrugs and wipes away any remaining tears. “I don't know; I never really thought about it.”

You hum and nod. “Right, so, uh, they exist! There are a lot of universes out there, actually." You let out an uneasy laugh.

He stares at you curiously.

“Obviously, I'm not from this universe.”

He continues staring at you.

“Oh, cmon, curses exist, but you draw the line at alternate dimensions?”

Getou frowns and says, “I guess you’re right... So you’re from a ‘different dimension’?”

You point a finger at him, narrowing your eyes. “Don't air-quote me like you don't believe me; how else would I be here right now if I were supposedly dead?”

“I don't know; that's what I'm trying to figure out!” he exclaims, gesticulating wildly.

“Can you just humor me and hear me out?”

He takes a deep breath before ultimately agreeing, “Okay, fine.”

You clasp your hands together. “Okay, um, in my universe, you’re dead.”

“What?!”

You shake your hands and your head. “Ok, no wait! You’re not dead yet, but, uh, you were like on the verge of death when I got put into another universe.”

He looks at you in disbelief. “And you just left me?!”

“It wasn't on purpose! Why would I want to leave you when you’re dying? I don't know how I ended up here! or in the last two other universes!”

He stops you and asks, "Okay, okay, wait—how am I dying?”

You look away awkwardly. “You wanted to change jujutsu society in… a not-so-friendly way... And, um, you were willing to die for your cause.”

“I'm dying the same way you did?”

You return your attention to him. “What?”

Getou nods. “Yeah.”

You shake your head. “What do you mean you're dying the same way I did?”

“In this universe, you’re the one who wanted to change jujutsu society in a... not-so-friendly way,” he explains sheepishly.

“Holy shit,” you mutter to yourself.

He nods again. “So, in yours, our roles are reversed.”

“And I'm dead already? I didn't even last as long as you?”

“Well, yeah, I guess," he shrugs, "but it worked; there hasn't been a curse, at least not a special-grade one, since you died." His eyes gleam as he looks up at you. “Did I succeed?”

You bite the inside of your cheek anxiously and shake your head.

“I'm dying for nothing, then?”

You look away and mumble, “My Getou is okay with it; he knew he might fail—he knew Gojo was the only one who could probably change anything—but he still wanted to try.”

“Okay, well, this—” he gestures to himself, “Getou isn't okay with it.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, well, you’re also still alive, so it doesn't really affect you that much, now does it?”

“Still! You just told me one version of myself is dead—or dying—and I'm supposed to be chill with that?”

You stare at him blankly. “Your version of me is dead.”

Getou grows quiet, and you can almost physically see how his demeanor wilts away.

“Sorry.”

“It's fine,” he says, shaking his head. “You said you were in two other universes before this one, right?”

You nod. 

“What were they like?”

You smile as you think back on the previous universes: “We were both alive and happy, and we were together in them.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah... and curses didn't exist either.”

“Huh,” he says ambivalently, like he's not sure whether to be happy for his other selves or be bitter that that isn't him. “Tell me more?”

“In the first one, we were actually on a date in some forest that I apparently loved.”

He stares at you wide-eyed, completely engrossed in your retellings.

“In the second one, we were married.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “Really?”

You nod. “We even adopted two daughters.”

“What were they like?” he wonders, enamored by some alternate universe of you two.

“I'm not sure; I didn't get to meet them,” you confess meekly. “But I know their names were Nanako and Mimiko, and they loved doing your hair and makeup. You adored them, and I'm sure I adored them too.”

He nods wistfully. “In your universe, were... were we together?”

“For a bit.” You look away sadly. “We broke up when you, uh, went off and wanted to-“

“Change jujutsu society,” he chimes in.

“Yeah... How'd you-“

“Same thing here, just roles reversed, remember?” He laughs sadly.

You nod. “Did you still love me? even after I'd gone off and did what I did?”

“I did. I do,” he quickly corrects himself. “Did you?”

“I still do.”

The two of you sit looking away from each other in glum silence. It's hard to stay upbeat about your happy alternate selves when your actual selves are currently dying or dead.

“Kinda feels like we got the short end of the stick, don't you think?” Getou mumbles softly.

“Huh?”

“Well, I mean, there are no curses in those universes, and we’re both alive and happy, but in ours we’re dead?” he elaborates.  

You nod reluctantly. “Well yeah, but I don't know; I guess it's kinda nice to know that it worked out in at least one universe.”

“Don't you wish it worked out in ours?”

“Of course I do, Getou; what kind of question is that?" you scoff. "You think I want to go back to my universe just to watch you die?”

“Well,” Getou pauses, turning to face you, “what if you don't go back?”

Your gaze zeroes in on his. “What?”

“What if you stay?…”

You abruptly stand up and chuckle uncomfortably. “Getou-“ your sentence is cut short by an echo of your name that only you seem to hear because you're the only one gazing in the general direction it seemed like it came from.

Getou joins you on your feet and follows your stare, but when he realizes you aren't staring at anything, he returns his sight to you.

“Think about it.”

His voice snaps you out of your trance, and you look back at him with a small frown.

“I'm practically dead in your universe, and you're dead in mine, but we’re together right now!" he says, taking your hand in his. "Maybe the universe put you into mine for a reason— so we don't have to go back to one where we’re not together…”

You struggle to swallow; your mouth suddenly goes dry as Getou stares at you in full, unadulterated hope, and you can't bring yourself to say anything to crush that.

“Y/N, wouldn't that be nice?”

You nod and murmur, “It would.”

“Then?” he asks expectantly.

Someone calling out your name echoes in your head again, and you quickly look down the street to now see a small, bright light in the distance, and you know your time here is soon coming to an end.

“I... I can't stay, Getou.”

His voice cracks as he panickedly asks, “Why?”

"Because,” you explain with a shake of your head, “I'm not your Y/N, and you're not my Getou.”

“I could be,” he says confidently, or he would have if it weren't for the way his voice trembled.

Your vision goes blurry from the tears welling up in your eyes as you shake your head.

“We could try!”

You sniffle and reiterate, “I can't stay.”

“Please,” he begs through his sobs. “Please, we can make it work.”

You look away from him, trying to fight back your tears, but it's futile; you’re a complete mess, just like he is now. “No.”

His hands shake as he grips your face and forces you to look at him. “Y/N, please, I'm begging you.”

“I cant.”

“Don't leave me again.”

The same voice calling out your name echoes in your head again, this time louder, and the bright light is getting bigger and closer.

“I don't want to go back to a universe where you’re just gonna leave me either, but,” you sob, weakly clinging onto the wrists of his hands that are still on your face.

“So stay.”

You shake your head and take his hands off your face. “I won't.”

Getou’s head goes limp and drops as sobs shake his entire body, and you can't help but think that's exactly how you'll look when you return to your universe and have to deal with the death of your Getou.

“Please,” he pleads.

You're both in tears as you lift his head up by his chin to look at you. The voice calling your name echoes even louder, and the bright light is getting closer by the second.

“You’re not my Getou, and I'm not your Y/N.”

He nods reluctantly. “I know, but...“

The bright light is only a few feet away at this point, and the voice echoing in your head is so loud that it's giving you a migraine—you know this is your last few minutes, if that, in this universe, so you lean in and take Getou’s lips into yours—a goodbye kiss for a Getou who you'll never see again, a goodbye kiss for a Getou who desperately needs one when he never got one from his y/n. You pull away and cradle his cheek gently.

“I have to go say goodbye to my Getou now; I think he’s waiting for me.”

He nods. “If he’s anything like me, he’ll want a goodbye kiss too.”

A faint smile tugs at your lips. “I know.”

Getou doesn't get the chance to respond when you're suddenly gone—completely vanished right before his eyes.

You, on the other hand, are back again, feeling unstable as you float through time and space, and again, the uncertainity of the feeling forces your eyes open, but this time you're met with only one thing—the image of you on your Getou’s chest. With every passing second, it grows closer, as does his voice calling out for you, and before you know it, you're back in your body, looking up at him with a gasp.

“Y/N?” he asks weakly.

You're still in tears from the previous universe as you now pull him into your embrace.

He winces, and you quickly let go of him. “Sorry.”

He smiles at you with blood in his mouth and teeth. “It's okay.”

You have to force yourself to look away to try and choke back a sob, but Getou notices immediately and slowly lifts up his remaining hand to cradle your cheek.

“It’s okay, Y/N.”

You nod. “I know.”

“You’ll be okay.”

“I know,” you croak out.

“Kiss me?” He asks out of breath, knowing he doesn't have much longer.

You don't hesitate to lean in and kiss him, ignoring how it tastes like blood and tears as well as how cold his lips feel. You ignore it because he's kissing you back. He’s kissing you with all the power his frail body can muster, and it makes up for all the years, months, weeks, days, minutes, and seconds that your lips haven’t touched. But just as quickly as he kisses you, he stops, but it's gradual; he gradually stops kissing, moving, and breathing. It doesn't take long for it to get to that point, and even when he's not kissing back, you still kiss him with some fairy-tale hope that it will bring him back, that your kiss will somehow save him, like he's Snow White and you're Prince Charming. But it doesn't.

It doesnt.

You pull away to look at Getou, whose eyes are glazed over but not closed. You sob as you reach up to close his eyes, only to let your head fall against his chest. He’s so cold. Too cold. That's why you have to stay there on top of him to keep him warm. You'll stay there all night if you have to. But you don't even get the chance to stay there for longer than a few minutes when someone suddenly pulls you off of him, and you look over your shoulder to see Gojo, who's crying as well.

“He’s gone, Y/N.”

"I know," you sniffle, “I know.”

Gojo helps you up to your feet, his hand on your waist to keep you steady as he leads you away from Getou’s body. The further you get from it, the harder you cry.

But it's okay. It’ll be okay because, even though you lost Getou in this universe, you’ll eventually be able to come to peace with it knowing that in a hundred, a thousand, and even a million other universes, you and Getou are living happily ever after.

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[justnatoka]

Creatures of the night

Poly! Lost Boys x GN! Reader

A/n: It's finally done! I had so much fun writing this! I would love to expand more on this idea. Let me know if you would be interested in that, or if you have any ideas for it. Maybe I'll write something that focuses more on the reader's relationship with the boys next. Also, I tweaked the timeline a bit for the sake of the story. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 3.4k

Warning: none, I think

Summary: Sam wants to save his brother, so he asks for help from the Frog brothers. What he doesn’t anticipate is that they introduce him to you, the person who taught them everything about vampires.

Sam didn’t have many choices. Michael had been turned into a bloodsucking creature of the night, and as much as he wanted to help him – not least for his and their mother’s safety – he knew he couldn’t do it alone. So he went to the two people he could (hopefully) count on. If someone told him a few days ago that he would turn up on the doorstep of the Frog brothers’ comic book shop for advice on how to terminate vampires, he would have laughed in their face. But alas, here he was.

After listening to every detail about the recent changes in Michael’s behaviour, not to mention last night’s events – Nanook attacking his brother, seeing his half faded reflection in the mirror and the levitating act he performed outside Sam’s window – they took a moment to take everything in.

“This is serious, man” Edgar finally said then he turned to his brother. They exchanged a silent look and nodded before turning back to Sam.

“We’re gonna take you to someone” Alan announced.

“They taught us everything we know about vampires” Edgar explained solemnly.

Sam gulped. If this person is some kind of vampire expert, they could definitely use their help. He didn’t want Michael to be killed, but he couldn’t stay a bloodsucker either.

“Alright, take me to them.”

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

He got suspicious when they turned up at a totally normal looking house, and his apprehension only grew as the Frogs rang the doorbell. He waited with baited breath as a minute passed by without anything happening. Then finally, the door opened. He didn’t know what he was expecting. Maybe someone with military style clothing that screamed “tough guy” – similar to what the Frog brothers tried, and ultimately failed to pull off in his personal opinion – but with big bulging muscles, who could knock out any vampire they saw. Or even a shady character with nervously twitching hands and a conspiratory look in their constantly moving eyes who’s always looking around for danger. But the person standing at the door was none of that. In fact, they were just… a normal person, around his brother’s age. He shot the Frogs a confused look, but they didn’t pay him any attention as they were too busy snapping their heels together and saluting with a unanimous,

“Good morning, boss.”

Their “boss” leaned against the doorway.

“’Sup?”

The reply was so casual, none of the Rambo wannabe bullshit the boys always used. That’s it, Sam was even more confused. They came to see this person?

“We need your help, boss. Seriously confidential business” Edgar explained. They nodded and disappeared inside.

“Come on in then.”

You led them up the stairs and into your bedroom for some privacy, then shut the door just in case your Dad left his workroom at the end of the hall. You sat down on your bed, the boys settling down on the carpet. Sam looked around. The bedroom was pretty normal as well, with a bookcase full of horror novels as far as he could see, a bunch of CDs next to a CD player and band posters of the walls. Although he spotted a few comics on the nightstand that looked similar to the ones the Frogs gave him.

“So,” you rested your arms on your knees and laced your fingers together, glancing between the boys. “What is it?”

The brothers turned their heads towards Sam. You’ve been wondering how Edgar and Alan knew him since you first saw them standing in front of your house. His clothes were fashionable, his hair styled. He wasn’t exactly the type of person the boys usually hang around.

“How do you know each other?” he asked instead. Looks like he was thinking along the same lines.

“I used to look after them when they were younger” you answered casually.

He blinked before directing his growing exasperation towards the brothers.

“Your babysitter? You brought me to your babysitter?”

“Former” Alan added as if that was the biggest problem with this whole situation. Sam let out a frustrated huff.

“And how exactly are they supposed to help my brother? Don’t tell me that all your knowledge comes from these” he waved his hand in the direction of your bookshelves.

“Actually, most vampire related media is full of bullshit” you interjected.

He froze. “How did you…?”

“…know that your brother was turned into a vampire?” You finished with a smirk. “I know a lot about what goes on in this town. I know who turned your brother and most likely how they did it. I know he’s been googly-eyed about a girl who hangs around a rather questionable crowd. He’s been acting strange ever since he met her, right?”

Sam just gaped, not knowing what to say before shutting him mouth and nodding. You gave an understanding nod in return.

“Is he fully turned?”

When a confused frown appeared on his face you added, “Has he taken any blood? Killed someone?”

“No, I don’t think so. He’s a jerk, but he couldn’t kill anyone.”

You smiled at the sibling banter. “Then he’s only half. The way things stand now, there are two options for your brother. One, he eventually loses the fight against the bloodlust and ends someone’s life, becoming a full-fledged vampire. Or two, you find the head vampire and kill him. That way, every half-vampire that was turned using his blood will become human again.”

Silence fell on the room as they mulled over what they just heard. It was Edgar who spoke up at last.

“Then we have to find the head vampire. Do you have any ideas who it is?” he turned to Sam.

“Maybe” he hesitated. “But I’m not sure.”

You reached across to your nightstand, grabbing one of the comics lying there and handing it to them.

“This might give you some ideas.”

Sam took the comic into his hands, eyeing it skeptically.

“Didn’t you say that most vampire related media is full of bullshit?”

“Not this one” you reassured him.

“How do you know?”

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “My dad writes them.”

You thoroughly enjoyed the surprised look on his face before he opened it and turned a few pages.

“Hounds of Hell” he read aloud before glancing back at you. You could already see the gears turning in his head, a thought forming behind his eyes, something akin to recognition, but not fully there yet.

“Thank you. Let’s go guys, we have to make a plan” he gestured to the other two then rushed out the door. Edgar and Alan hurriedly got to their feet, and with a quick goodbye they ran after their friend.

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

They failed massively. Sam was so sure about Max being the head vampire, however he passed all their tests. And above that, his mom got mad at him for ruining her date night. Again. But now they were getting ready to head to the hideout of the group that turned Michael. The Frogs reassured him that they’re coming armed with stakes and other weapons to kill the head vampire. Meanwhile, Michael can go and rescue his girlfriend. One thing was for sure: this time they were finishing the job.

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

You let out a shaky breath as you put down the phone. You just received a call from Alan, telling you that they are going to the vampire hideout. They planned to kill off who they thought was the head vampire. They wanted to let you know in case anything happened to them. You were cursing out loud while you shrugged on your coat in a hurry and ran out the door. This isn’t how things were supposed to play out. They were blindly walking into a den of wolves, having no idea what they were up against. This situation could only result in someone getting hurt. All you could hope was that you got there in time, before they did something stupid and irreversible.

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

Edgar and Alan led the way down the stairs and into the cave. It had a bunch of warning signs, and looked like it has been abandoned for decades. However, as they entered the gaping mouth into the darkness, they arrived into a space that resembled a hotel lobby, albeit all messed up and crumbled, but still in a pretty good shape. It would have been a very cool hideout, Sam thought, if it didn’t belong to a bunch of nightcrawlers. It was sure as hell that this place was lived in.

He helped Michael get down the sloping entrance, just as the Frogs discovered Star sleeping in one of the corners.

“Don’t you touch her! You stay away from her!” His brother could barely stand on his own two feet, yet he scrambled over to the girl.

“The rest of them are gotta be around here someplace. Let’s find them.” Edgar motioned for Alan.

“I can’t let you do that” came a voice from behind then. Startled, they turned around. There you stood near the mouth of the cave, your form half in the shadows. “I can’t let you kill them.”

“Why not? They are bloodsucking monsters!”

You stepped forward, shaking your head.

“My answer is still no. Take the girl and the little boy, then leave. They will go after you to try and bring them back, and you’ll probably have to fight them. But you can’t kill them here and now.”

Sam looked over to the Frogs and couldn’t believe his eyes when they seemed to hesitate.

“No! This is crazy! We have to end them now. This is our best chance while it’s still daylight. Come on, guys.”

“You can’t kill them all at once. Not like this. You’ll need a more solid plan for that than a few wooden stakes. If you end one of them now, they’re gonna come for you with even more vengeance. They know this place like the back of their hand, and you don’t. There’s a high chance you won’t even make it out of this cave alive.”

It certainly made sense. The more Sam thought about it, the more ill-prepared this all seemed. If they are really such bloodthirsty killers like Michael told him, maybe it was better to rethink their strategy instead of just rushing headfirst into a dark cave full of dangerous vampires.

He was still a little disappointed they couldn’t just end it here and now, but as he turned to the Frog brothers, he saw it in their eyes that they cracked. They will follow what their “boss” told them to do.

“Alright. What do we do?” he sighed.

“Let’s regroup somewhere safe. Then we can come up with a plan for tonight. As soon as they discover you took those two, they’ll come after you. That only leaves a couple of hours to prepare for an attack.”

“We can go back to ours, fortify the house.” You and Sam exchanged a serious look as you nodded.

“Sounds good. Let’s get going.”

The boys helped Michael carry Star and Laddie, as he was rapidly losing strength. When they passed you on the way out, Sam was sure he heard you let out a relieved sigh. He guessed you were worried about Edgar and Alan running into danger. You certainly looked like you cared about them. Shortly after they got up to the car, you also joined them. They didn’t question what took you so long, they didn’t have to know about the note left behind.

As you got into the driver’s seat – seeing as Michael was in no shape to drive – Sam wondered about how lucky they were to have you on their side. Someone with knowledge about vampires, who could also be the voice of reason if need be. It could have ended a lot worse if they got into a fight with those bloodsuckers in the tight corridors of the cave.

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

It was over. The last few hours have been a flurry of rushed preparations that morphed into total chaos as the vampires came. Sam was still reeling from all the running and fighting and screaming, the feeling of victory as they took down all of them, followed by the chilling panic as Max made his appearance, finally showing his true face. But it was over now.

His mom and Michael were hugging him, Star was hugging Laddie, and he could have sworn he heard the Frog brothers saying something about charging them for this, but he honestly couldn’t care less. Grandpa made his way into the kitchen, opening a beer and grumbling about all the damn vampires in Santa Carla.

They were all too busy with relief to notice you standing back, anxiously gnawing at your lips, waiting, listening for any sound from other parts of the house. Then a groan came from the workshop, and a smile spread on your face.

Everyone else jumped, the Emersons huddled together with Grandpa peeking out from the kitchen. Michael drew Star closer to him, Laddie clinging to her other hand. The Frog brothers were on their feet in an instant, taking up some improvised fighting stances. All staring cautiously towards the workshop, they collectively almost had a heart attack as they watched David sit up on the table with another grunt. After some struggling he slipped off the horns piercing through him with a sickening wet sound. He cracked his neck and let out a satisfied sound from deep in his chest. The puncture wounds on his torso already started to heal. They frantically turned around as more footsteps were heard approaching from different parts of the house. Sam looked at his brother in a panic. How is this possible? They were sure they killed them. He saw Michael tense up. He was pulling what little energy he had left together and getting ready for another fight. The problem was, he turned back into a human as Max died. They probably wouldn’t be able to fight them off in the state they were in, tired and bruised.

The rest of David’s gang emerged, a little worse for wear but healing rapidly.

“Look out!” came Alan’s frantic voice when he saw the three vampires approach you from behind.

“You okay, babe? Hope we weren’t too rough on ya.” As Paul sneaked an arm around your waist and pulled you into his side, you leaned into him.

Everyone just stared at you in dumbfounded silence. David’s footsteps thudded loudly as he circled around their group and stood beside you and his brothers. Without even looking, you laced you fingers together with his. It seemed so natural. That’s what went through Michael’s mind as he watched the little show of affection between you and the vampires. This didn’t happen yesterday, this has been an ongoing thing for a while.

Alan was the first to voice what everyone was wondering.

“How is this possible? We killed you” he pointed an accusatory finger at the bloodsuckers.

“That’s gonna stay our secret” you stated. “I might have taught you everything you know about vampires, but I didn’t teach you everything I know.”

“So you were with them all along?” Sam asked in disbelief.

“Of course I was. How do you think I know so much about the creatures of the night?”

“Boss… you really betrayed us for the enemy?” Edgar’s voice sounded so hurt it almost broke your heart.

“Max was the enemy.” Your matter-of-fact tone did nothing to ease the situation. In fact, it only made the boys angrier.

“But they hurt people!” Alan shouted. Dwayne took a step forward and Marko let out a low growl at his raised voice. You quickly let go of David’s hand and gently put it on Dwayne’s arm. You made sure to give Marko a reassuring glance as well before continuing.

“You don’t have to agree with my actions. I love them, and that’s enough for me.” You turned toward Michael. “At least that’s something I think you can understand.”

He gave you a silent nod as he held Star closer to his side.

“For what?” Sam mumbled. “You put your friends in danger” he motioned to the Frog brothers, his voice rising in volume, “but for what? What was the point of this whole thing?”

“First of all, they were never in any real danger. Except when you planned to ambush David and the others in the cave. That could have ended really badly.”

“They planned to do what?!” Marko almost lunged at them again, but Paul held him back.

“Come on, bud. It won’t do any good, if we kill them now” he tried to reason with him.

“To hell with that! We were holding back all the while they tried to kill us multiple times. Tried to ambush us! I say we finish them now.”

David’s cool voice broke through the argument.

“As much as I’d like to do that, you’re forgetting the fact that they are Y/N’s friends. They asked us not to hurt them.”

Marko seemingly realized his mistake, glanced at you and hung his head. He let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry, sugar” he mumbled.

“Is that true?” It was Edgar who spoke up this time. He was looking at you intensely. “You told them not to hurt us?”

You nodded.

“They were never going to kill you, they just had to make it believable. Like I said, Max was the enemy. We knew he planned to turn Michael’s family, and we saw an opportunity. You wanted to turn your brother back” you turned to Sam, “and the boys wanted Max gone. Our problem was one and the same. And now everyone got what they wanted.”

“You pointed us towards Max. With the comic” Sam realized.

You nodded again.

“Things didn’t exactly go according to plan, but it turned out fine in the end. I knew Max would come out of hiding if the boys were in danger. So I left them a note in the cave about the change of plans. Max was smart. We had to make it look like they died for him to appear.”

You could tell your explanation didn’t exactly placate them, tensions were still high, but that was okay. You anticipated their anger. You didn’t mind it so long as everyone was alive.

“If you would excuse us, this has been a long night. Me and my boys will leave you to be.”

You sent a sad smile towards Edgar and Alan as you walked past them. You could tell they still had some things they wanted to say, but decided not to, at least not now. It really has been a long night, and everyone just wanted it to end already. Your departure was followed by a long silence as they were trying to make sense of everything. Eventually, Grandpa spoke up.

“Those damn vampires, I’m telling ya.” He just shook his head and headed for his workshop.

You were also silent on your way back to the cave. Paul nudged your arm.

“You okay, babe?” he asked with a hint of worry on his handsome face.

“Yeah, I’m fine” you sighed. “I just hope I didn’t ruin my friendships.”

“They will come around” he reassured you. “And if they don’t, you still have us” he sent you a cheeky smile.

The corner of your lips finally turned upright.

“Thank you” you whispered as you leaned into him more.

“Don’t mention it, dollface.”

You looked over at your lovers, resting your gaze on all their faces for a long moment. You were just happy they were all okay.

[kingdom-of-sins]

Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader

Sihtric and Uhtred's sister wants to get married but for that to happen they need Uhtred's blessing...which may not be so easy to get

The night air in Coccham is cool and filled with the chirping of crickets as you slip out of your quarters, your heart racing with anticipation. You’ve become adept at sneaking out to meet Sihtric, your secret love, in the secluded grove just beyond the village. As you approach, you see him waiting for you, a smile lighting up his face when he catches sight of you.

"There you are," he says softly, pulling you into his arms. "I was starting to worry."

"Sorry," you whisper, nuzzling into his chest. "Uhtred kept me longer than usual."

He chuckles, brushing a kiss against your forehead. "I have something for you." From behind his back, he produces a small bouquet of wildflowers, their petals vibrant even in the dim light.

You smile, touched by his gesture. "You always bring me the loveliest flowers."

"And you'll always wear them beautifully," he replies, tucking one into your long black hair. "They remind me of you."

You kiss him then, a soft brush of your lips that quickly deepens. His hands cradle your face, and you lose yourself in the warmth and passion of his embrace. Each stolen moment with Sihtric feels like a precious gift, every kiss a promise of your love.

Time seems to stand still as you hold each other, but all too soon, reality intrudes. "We can't stay long," Sihtric murmurs, resting his forehead against yours. "Uhtred will notice if we're both gone for too long."

You sigh, wishing you could stay wrapped in his arms forever. "I hate sneaking around like this. I wish we could be together openly."

"Me too," Sihtric says, determination in his voice. "And we will be. I'm going to talk to Uhtred. I'm going to ask for his blessing."

Your eyes widen in surprise and worry. "Are you sure? You know how protective he is."

"I know," he replies, his gaze steady. "But I love you. I want to be with you, openly and proudly."

The next morning, you watch nervously from a distance as Sihtric approaches Uhtred. Your brother's expression shifts from curiosity to shock as Sihtric speaks. You can't hear their conversation, but Uhtred's widening eyes and dropped jaw are enough to tell you it's not going entirely smoothly.

Later, Sihtric finds you, his expression a mix of hope and resignation. "He was… surprised," he says, trying to sound optimistic. "He asked for time to think about it."

"That's something, at least," you reply, squeezing his hand. "What else did he say?"

Sihtric hesitates. "He, uh, kind of told me to stay away from you for now."

Your heart sinks, but you refuse to give up. "I'm going to talk to him," you declare. "He needs to understand how much we love each other."

That evening, you corner Uhtred in his quarters. "Brother, we need to talk."

He looks up from his maps, raising an eyebrow. "About Sihtric, I presume?"

"Yes," you say, taking a deep breath. "I love him, Uhtred. He loves me. We want to be together, to get married. Please, give us your blessing."

Uhtred sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't realize… You've kept this well hidden."

"We had to," you reply softly. "But I don't want to hide anymore. Please, Uhtred."

After a long pause, Uhtred nods slowly. "I'll speak to Sihtric."

Later that night, Uhtred calls Sihtric into his quarters. "You know I'll kill you if you hurt her," he says gruffly, eyes hard.

"I know," Sihtric replies earnestly. "I'd never hurt her. I love her."

"Then you have my blessing," Uhtred says, his voice softening. "But remember, I'm always watching."

Sihtric can hardly contain his excitement as he rushes to find you. He sneaks into your quarters, grinning like a boy. "Uhtred gave his blessing," he whispers, pulling you into his arms.

Tears of joy fill your eyes as you kiss him, your heart bursting with happiness. "We can finally be together," you say, your voice trembling with emotion.

He kisses you again, deeply and passionately, his hands tangling in your long black hair. "I can't wait to marry you," he murmurs against your lips. "And I'll spend the rest of my life making you happy."

With Uhtred's blessing, you and Sihtric no longer have to hide your love. You walk hand in hand through Coccham, drawing smiles and curious looks from the people around. Sihtric brings you flowers every chance he gets, and you wear them proudly in your hair.

Your love is no longer a secret, and every day is filled with moments of joy and passion. You steal kisses in quiet corners, share whispered conversations late into the night, and dream of the life you'll build together.

Days pass, and the new dynamic becomes a part of everyday life. Yet, some things remain the same.

One afternoon, as you and Sihtric share a private moment in the kitchen, he gently tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. His gaze is soft, filled with love.

Uhtred walks in at that exact moment, catching sight of the tender exchange. He groans loudly, making a face. "Do you two ever stop?" he asks, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation.

You laugh, leaning into Sihtric. "Not if we can help it."

Uhtred shakes his head, muttering to himself as he leaves the room. "Just remember, Sihtric, I'm always watching!"

Sihtric chuckles, pulling you close. "I don't think he'll ever get used to it."

"Good," you reply with a mischievous grin.

And with that, you pull Sihtric into another kiss, knowing that no matter how many times Uhtred catches you, nothing can dim the happiness you feel in each other’s arms.

[darcydarlingdabbles]

Born to Survive (2/2)

part 2 of Astarion's Romance scene in act 1

part 1 link

Astarion x f!Tav (tiefling), Canon Compliant, Explicit af

4.2k

//This one tried to kill me. Smut, angst, comfort, oh my. Game accurate dialogue up to a point. CW: Good in bed, bad at emotions. Unhealthy...everything when it comes to sex/emotions. Bad communication?? But happy ending. This is the night with Tav that changes everything for Astarion.// Song Rec: The Death of Peace of Mind by Bad Omens

Astarion’s keen ears caught the moment Tav entered the moonlit clearing.

The vampire spawn felt the familiar prickling anticipation of the game he was about to play—a dance of manipulation and survival, dressed up in the silvery light. Where he could slip into the role he was created play. The seductive predator, dangerous and irresistible.

Yet, not so much as to forfeit her faith in him.

An unfamiliar flutter stirred within the pale elf. She was just another pawn in his web. Nothing was different just because he knew her name. And he should not be secretly happy that she would survive to see the sun rise tomorrow.

Astarion ignored the rush of his long since dead heart. This was self preservation; nothing more.

This yearning for anything else was dangerous as putting a stake in her hands.

He could not afford to care how she felt about him, beyond whether or not she would protect him.

Astarion removed his jacket methodically, folding it with deliberate care. As he pulled at the laces of his white shirt, memories came unbidden—clothing pooled around ankles, ripped away from his body, discarded like they weren’t all he had to his name.

Cazador’s mocking voice sneered in his mind. Reminding him of his place. On his knees. On his back. All he was good for.

He draped his folded shirt over a low branch, silencing the heartless laugh echoing in his memory as he slid on the mask he’d donned for centuries.

Astarion’s undead heart might as well b e made of stone. There was nothing left of him but the charm he cast.

“There you are.” Astarion greeted with the hint of a purr in his voice as he stepped from behind a towering oak with a smile already curving his lips.

He let his gaze rake appreciatively over Tav’s form, gratified when her eyes darted from his face to drink in his bared chest and down his body.

The blush on her cheeks when she was caught was just…delicious.

“I’ve been waiting, waiting since the moment I set eyes on you,” Astarion soothed, gliding closer. The moonlight caressed his alabaster skin, lending him an ethereal, almost ghostly beauty. 

At least, he hoped that was how he appeared, striking and seductive in the silver glow.

His prowl came to a stop merely inches from Tav, catching the hitch in her breath as she still hadn’t spoken. Thrilling him with how utterly captivated she was.

“Waiting…to have you.” he finished in a silken murmur, reaching a delicate hand to trail his cool fingers over her flushed cheek.

Suddenly, the tiefling’s eyes snapped up to meet his. Her body reanimated as she shifted from foot to foot with a slash of her tail.

“You sure, Astarion?” Tav asked, Her voice was a maddeningly gentle whisper, her brow creased with a vexing worry.

Why did she have to make this so damn difficult? Couldn’t she just enjoy what they both clearly wanted?

Instead Tav had to ask those weighted words, like she was trying disarm his every charm.

No.

He couldn’t let her pry her way under his flirtatious mask. Whatever broken, battered creature cowered behind his facade could not see the light of day. Astarion had a role to play. The lover Tav would do anything to protect.

His smile never wavered as he steered her away from anything more meaningful than their little dance now, until bairly a hair’s breadth separated their bodies.

“Don’t I have you?” he said with honey in his voice and want in his crimson eyes. “You’re here…and I don’t think you want to talk.”

Knowing her gaze was intent on him, Astarion let his focus drift down the curves of her body—taking in the way her tiefling tail betrayed her. Despite the worry on her brow, Tav’s arrant appendage curled at the tip in obvious interest.

Astarion’s charms were eroding even the hero’s defenses, as they should.

Tav’s full lips parted, and before she could voice another irritatingly perceptive question, Astarion wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling their bodies flush at last.

“I think you want to be known…to be tasted.” His breath ghosted across her skin.

Slowly, giving her time to pull away, he raised a hand to cup her cheek, caressing the fading puncture marks with his thumb.

Finally, Tav shivered at his touch. Her slit pupils went wide, and her tail curled fully to the small of her back. Just when he was about to taste her lips for the first time…she had to open her mouth.

“What do you want, Astarion?”

In his wretchedly long mockery of a life, no one had ever asked him that. No lover. No target. And certainly no master.

Why did Tav threaten to crack his facade with every damn word she said.

What did he want? Blood. Protection. Freedom. Safety.

Astarion sliced that thread before either of them could follow it too closely.

The vampire turned Tav’s head, breaking that too honest gaze, letting his lips brush her pointed ear instead. “What do any of us want? Pleasure. Yours, mine, our collective ecstasy.” He let each word drip with promise.

Her resistance finally melted away.

A smile graced that sweet mouth and her lithe form leaned into his. She reached for him at last, her hands coming to rest on his waist, and he could nearly sigh as the heat of her skin seeped into his perpetual chill.

Her touch was still too tentative for him.

Astarion captured her wrists in his long fingers, drawing her hands up along the sculpted planes of his chest to loop around his neck, ducking his head to tease his lips over hers. "

“That’s it. That’s what you want, isn’t it…to lose yourself in me?”

He wasn’t asking. It was what they always wanted. His touch. His attention. His body. All he was good for.

“Astarion…”

The vampire nearly gloated when she sighed his name—the noble tone was so weak under the want.

At last, Astarion had dragged the honorable Tav down to his level of depravity.

Her pulse thrummed wildly under his palms, betraying her at last. How badly she must want him. How he’d stripped away her suspicion and caution until only need remained.

“I thought so.” He purred with pure gratification.

Tav leaned up on her toes, pressing through the hands cupping her face, and closing the distance between their mouths.

Astarion had kissed countless lips in his time. Thousands of fleeting moments, rushed, careless, clashing, teeth and tongues.

Tav’s kiss was nothing like that.

It was warm, reverent in a way Astarion knew he did not deserve, even as he slid easily into the motions. Trying to bury her tenderness in wanton desire.

But then, Tav leaned into his palm, nuzzling her cheek into his hand, pointed fingers threading through his.

And it was such an artless, intimate gesture that suddenly threatened to choke him.

Desperate to quash this unnamed feeling before it could take root—Astarion claimed Tav’s mouth in a searing kiss. Biting her bottom lip to banish any sweetness she gave.

…

Tav could feel her pulse fluttering in her ears as Astarion caressed her every curve with effortless grace. His lips felt like they were everywhere, and his skilled tongue stoked a delicious heat within the tiefling.

She was lost to every delicate touch. His nimble fingers deftly undid the laces of her bodice, unhooking the fastenings of her trousers.

Tav hardly noticed until he was pulling her to step out of the puddle of her clothes to be pulled into the hard line of his body against hers.

His elegance was unmatched to any lover she’d had. They hardly needed to exchange—and Astarion seemed disinclined to speak at all as he lavished attention down her neck and her collarbones with his perfect mouth.

Tav was desperate. Not just for more skin-tingling touches, but to return some of the bliss he bestowed on her.

Her fingers grasped at Astarion’s silken hair, catching him for a moment so she could leave her own kisses along the chiseled line of his jaw, down the pale column of his neck.

The vampire’s throat went motionless under her mouth the lower she went. Of course, she didn’t expect to feel a fluttering pulse, but it was like he’d forgotten to breathe. Had passion erased his pretense of needing air?

Tav just wondered this as her lips reached the twin scars on his neck—and Astarion went rigid.

Her heart seized.

She overstepped, maybe reminded him of his painful past, and she had to apologize.

The words were already on her tongue, when he caught her by the chin and pulled her back.

“As much as I enjoy your affections, darling,” he purred, ruby eyes gleaming wickedly, “I have much better plans for that sweet mouth of yours.”

Then he was kissing her again, deeply, ardently. Tav whined as the points of his fangs grazed her bottom lip, sending licks of fire through her veins. He knew exactly what he was doing as he ravished her, and  her awkwardness forgotten as he tried to drown her in arousal.

Nothing existed but Astarion’s clever hands, his sinful lips, and the delicious ache building between her thighs.

The awkwardness of the moment was forgotten as she clung to him. Nothing compared to the intensity of being the focus of Astarions attention. She felt ravished before he even stooped to wrap her legs around his waist, but he barely broke their kiss.

Tav eagerly complied, locking her arms around his shoulders, careful of his neck, though curling her quivering tail around his torso too.

Astarion pressed her into the rough bark of a nearby tree, his hands digging possessively into her thighs.

She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her. She was giddy with arousal, slicker still as she felt the hard length of his cock just press against her.

Gods, she needed him inside her.

“Playful little tiefling.” Astarion murmured appreciatively, his voice like dark velvet against her ear.

Tav giggled again, giving a deliberate twitch of her tail. “Well, biting is basically foreplay for my kind,” she teased, fingers threading through his curls, careful of the points of her nails as she murmured against his lips. “I shoulda warned ya, before that first little nibble by the campfire.”

If their bodies weren't so closely interlaced, their noses gently grazing each other as Astarion teasingly ground his hips into hers, stirring her eagerness for the forthcoming fervor, she may have missed the swift flicker of emotion that danced across Astarion's handsome face.

Uncertainty. Discomfort even…at being bitten? That made sense he would be cautious of the reminder—but the expression was gone in a blink. Replaced with a roguish grin.

“Is that so? Then you’ve already surrendered yourself to me.”

Oh, how damn cocky could a man be?

Sure, he was turning her to a mess just rutting against her. But Tav arched a brow. “I can’t just…let you win.”

The tiefling simpered, even as she tilted her head to the side, baring the tantalizing line of her throat. Showing off the fading bite.

That bright ruby gaze darkened, rivited, zeroed in on her fluttering pulse. He leaned in, fangs bared, as she slid her tail away from him.

In flick of her tail, Tav leveraged herself off of the tree, sending them both tumbling into the soft grass.

She landed atop him, legs caging his hips, grinning at his startled expression.

“Gotcha.”

To Tav’s surprise and delight, a warm and genuine laugh burst from Astarion’s lips. His eyes sparkled with an inner light, bright and unreserved in a way she’d never seen from him before. Tav was transfixed by just the glimpse of raw, unguarded emotion on his face.

The spell couldn’t last forever.

Astarion’s hands seized her hips, using his vampiric strength and speed to flip Tav onto her back, pinning her into the grass.

Her air escaped in a huff as he captured her wrists and pressed them into the ground, rendering her wonderfully helpless.

“Alright, alright, I yield!” Tav laughed breathlessly, squirming only half-heartedly in his stone grip. “You win.”

Still smiling, she tipped her head back, baring her throat in surrender—eliciting a low, greedy sound from Astarion. This time, he did not hesitate.

Hot, stinging pleasure burst through her blood as the vampire’s fangs sank into her skin. She shivered, happily helpless, under the icy ecstasy of his bite. His body leaned heavily and perfectly into the cradle of hers.

His long fingers came around to cushion her head, just as the first night he fed from her. Tav hardly noticed when Astarion released her wrists, other than she could dreamily slide her fingers into his white curls. On instinct, she brushed the pads of her thumbs along the tender points of his ears.

Astarion startled in her hold.

A blissful sound echoed against her throat, and the twin points of pain disappeared as his focus wavered. He pulled back from her, crimson lingering on his lips.

“Elves and their ears.” Tav answered his unasked question, repeating the gentle stroke to prove her point, gratified when he was the one to give a shudder. “Shall I stop?”

“Don’t you dare,” Astarion growled playfully, before diving back down to reclaim her lips. She teased his gorgeous ears as long as he would allow, before he seemed to remember himself—and pulled back with a darker gaze.

“Let me show you my favorite trick.” He purred, kissing a trail down her heated body. Lavishing attention on her breasts before settling between her thighs like he belonged there.

His strong, elegant hands curled under her hips, lifting her soaking folds to his wickedly talented tongue.

The first stroke across her clit had Tav arching with a cry, sparks igniting behind her eyelids. Astarion was relentless, laving and suckling with single-minded focus, devouring her pussy like he hungered for nothing else. His clever fingers slid into her, thrusting and curling with unerring accuracy.

He was overwhelming in the most delightful way.

“Astarion,” Tav gasped, half a sob in her throat. Her fingers tangled in his hair. Pleasure was building inside her like a cresting wave until she thought she might shatter from it. 

Just as the peak crashed over her, Tav’s tail curled adoringly around Astarion’s arm, the spaded tip digging into his bicep. Astarion groaned against her, the sound reverberating through her pussy—until she was trembling in the grass.

“Darling…I am not finished with you yet.” his breath was panting against his thigh, his lips shining with her slick in the moonlight.

His eyes burned into hers as he lowered his mouth back to her, drawing a feral whimper from her mouth. He worked her through the aftershocks with his lips and mouth and the edge of his teeth—then built her back up again, drawing every ounce of pleasure from the tiefling’s body until she was left boneless and blissed out.

By the time Tav found her voice again, she’d lost count of how many times he’d made her come. 

“Astarion,” she rasped. “Please. I need you.”

In a flash, he was over her, the blunt head of his cock nudging against her entrance. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said with that damnable roguish grin.

Then he was sliding into her, hard and thick and perfect, and Tav could only hang on as he took her apart all over again. She was so sensitive, the pleasure bordering on pain, that it only took a few deep strokes before she was clenching around him, keening her release.

Astarion swallowed the sound with his mouth, kissing her deeply as he continued to move within her. Tav felt owned, treasured, utterly consumed by the brilliant creature in her arms. In that moment, she would have happily let him devour her whole.

…

Astarion thrust into her with smooth, measured strokes, the perfect rhythm to draw out her satisfaction. His face was buried in the crook of her neck as he murmured filthy praises against her skin, just as he was supposed to.

“You are so terribly intoxicating, my love. So perfectly wrapped around me. Like you were made just to undo me.”

Tav was a mess under him, her careful words lost to the sensation of him moving inside her. Her limbs tangled around him and she tried to pull him down for a kiss.

Astarion evaded her lips, lavishing attention on her throat instead. Letting his mind slip away again.

It wasn’t long before she was clenching around him again, shuddering through another intense climax. Astarion worked her through it, then gradually slowed his pace. When Tav finally resurfaced, sated and pliant in his arms.

Just where he needed her to be.

“Fuck,” she sighed, pressing the heel of her palm over her eyes as she still caught her breath. He slid from her still quivering body, though she still clung to him with her curled tail.

“I shall take that as a compliment.” He chuckled at her side, pressing his lips to the skin before her ear.

“Astarion, did you…?”

The vampire tensed almost imperceptibly before pulling back to look at her, a practiced smile curving his lips. 

“I was, concentrating…you had me captivated, darling.” He glossed over. It was easy to ignore his own ache, and most of his conquests were happy to let him. “Brilliant, beautiful thing you are.”

Astarion eased, pressing her back into the grass. He sat up, resting on his bent knee, as he let himself detachment from the moment.

Tav's frown caught his attention as she studied him from where she was still laid back in the moonlit grass. “Hey, is everything okay? I want to make you feel good, too.”

Her words took him by surprise. Make him feel good? That simply didn’t factor into any script he played in someone else’s bed.

His mouth opened and closed in silent confusion before he shook off the disorientation.

"I...no, everything’s fine. Wonderful, in fact. You’ve been perfect, darling," he responded smoothly. Astarion couldn’t pull his mask into place. Weak, vulnerable, aching—confused as to what he should do next.

But there was no dungeon to draw her towards. No master to turn her over to. Tav was not a target. What was he meant to do?

Astarion laid back, wondering if he should feign exhaustion. Until Tav fell asleep and he could slip away.

With a gentle smile, and a little unsteady as she rose, Tav slid her hands up Astarion’s chest to frame his face. “Let me concentrate on you now,” she murmured, shifting until she was straddling his hips again.

He clung to her waist on instinct, but didn’t grip hard enough to stop her from moving over him.

“Is that alright, Astarion?”

She kept saying his name, drawing his eyes back to hers, to the want in hers that was more than want.

The warmth was overwhelming.

“Yes,” He agreed, hearing his own breathless assent. Telling himself it was just to be relieved of that adoring look in her eyes.

Tav drew him along her palm, sinking down on his hardness inch by heavenly inch. 

Astarion gasped gently. For once, he seemed at a loss for words, ruby eyes wide and locked on hers as she began to move.

Undulating slowly, Tav leaned in to capture his lips, kissing him deeply, reverently. 

His own mouth was…hesitant. The way she kissed him, the way she kissed, the way she moved, dragged that unbidden yearning from somewhere deep inside him.

Like his first taste of her neck, something about this felt forbidden. Too rich for his blood.

But then Astarion was kissing Tav back feverishly, sitting up to tangle one hand in her hair to hold her close. Like he was starving all over again.

Tav kept the pace languid, letting Astarion savor every slide and press, her pussy quivering around him still. He’d thought he’d worn her out so thoroughly—but she persisted.

She peppered kisses across his angular cheekbones, the corner of his mouth, his temples. Astarion shuddered beneath her, a soft whimper escaping him as she rolled her hips just so.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Tav crooned. “Just feel. Let go for me.”

Time seemed to slip from him yet again—but he felt every breath against his lips, her forehead pressed to his with agonizing sweetness. Her fingers curled into the hair at the base of his neck, and he clung to her in turn.

Astarion felt his body stiffen involuntarily, a flicker of apprehension. His armor trying to snap back into place, one last ditch attempt to wall him off.

“Tav…” his voice was a broken plea.

Her relentless warmth ceased every vulnerability in him. Her arms wrapped around him, shielding out the rest of the world, the rest of his thoughts.

Those damnable eyes with unwavering affection as they locked onto his.

"I've got you," Tav murmured with a fervor that echoed through him. "You're so good, Astarion."

Her words sent him spiraling into the abyss with a ragged gasp as his climax washed over him, spilling deep within her.

Astarion could feel her arms drawing him closer, her fingers threading through his curls and whispering praises and reassurances that seeped into his dead marrow.

He clung to her desperately, hiding himself in the crook of her neck as he was the one to tremble.

In this moment, stripped bare of all pretenses and disguises he wore. All Astarion could do was cling tighter to Tav, hoping that she could feel even a sliver of the affection and reverence that burned within him.

Astarion watched her as she lay back, unable to rip his eyes away or compose his face in to something prettier.

She laughed breathlessly, but the elf remained still, waiting. Bracing himself for the inevitable withdrawal, for her warmth to leave him bereft and alone once more.

That part of the script was surely still intact.

They took their pleasure, then cast him aside. Or worse.

But Tav did neither.

She nestled close, resting her head on his chest with a contented sigh. Astarion glanced down at her, watching the way her fingers idly traced invisible patterns on his cool skin. The casual intimacy of it made his throat tighten.

After a moment, Tav lifted her gaze to his, a playful smile curving her kiss-swollen lips. “Not much for cuddling after?” she teased gently, but she was already lifting herself off of him.

Astarion huffed a laugh, hoping it masked the confused tangle of emotions her tenderness evoked. “It’s not exactly my forte.” 

He should be using his glib charm to get them back to camp, saying they should get some sleep. But with Tav...he hesitated. Loath to break this fragile, unfamiliar spell between them. 

As if sensing his inner turmoil, Tav shifted to lay her head in the grass beside him, relinquishing her claim on his space.

But as her warmth and weight left him, Astarion felt strangely bereft. Unmoored. His hand darted out to catch hers, lacing their fingers together as he turned to face her.

Tav’s ever-radiant smile dawned across her face. She squeezed his hand gently, like it was the most precious thing she’d ever held. “This okay?” she asked softly.

Slowly, deliberately, she brought his knuckles to her lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of his hand. Like he was the prey she feared startling.

Tav slid their joined hands up to rest over Astarion’s still heart, her expression open and tender in a way that made his breath catch.

Astarion swallowed hard to gain even a tenuous control. “More than,” he managed, voice rough with everything he couldn’t quite say.

Tav smiled at him, and those bright eyes held nothing—no guile, no ulterior motive. Only affection and a hint of something that looked dangerously close to…adoration.

It terrified him even as some long-dormant part of his soul ached for more.

“Good,” he breathed at last, barely recognizing his own voice.

As he slid his arm around Tav’s shoulders, pulling her back to his chest beneath the star-strewn sky, a sudden realization hit him with the force of a charging bulette.

In all his long existence, he had never spent the night with a lover. Had never wanted to. But now, with Tav a warm, trusting weight in his arms, he found himself hoping desperately that this wouldn’t be the last time.

There would be time to figure this out later, he told himself. To untangle the confusing snarl of warmth and want and unspoken yearning twisting beneath his ribs. 

And yet, as Tav’s breathing gradually slowed and deepened with the onset of sleep, Astarion discovered that there was nowhere in all the realms he’d rather be.

Perhaps, just this once, he could let himself have this. Could dare to imagine a future beyond mere survival.