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caramara3 · 1 month ago

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Just Friends...? [1]

a Damian Priest x Reader Imani Cove fic

Summary: After a drunken night out, WWE Superstars and estranged friends Imani Cove and Damian Priest wake up to find themselves naked in bed together with no recollection of what happened the night before. They both choose to go on pretending as if nothing ever happened, but soon find out it’s easier said than done, especially when the lines of friendship begin to blur around them…

Warnings: plot, slow burn, angst, language, mature sexual content 18+, ofc, fluff, semi-friends to lovers

Word Count: 2.5k

**Partially Edited and Proofread**

**Interactive**

Notes: Thank y'all so much for reading!! Leave a comment, heart, share, and enjoy the ride!!!

Italic writing signifies an inside thought.

Inspired playlist for story

Chapter 1: The Morning

~Morning after Backlash Puerto Rico~

“Uugh… oww.”

You groan softly and shift your body, regretting that decision almost immediately. It’s not like being a wrestler for almost 12 years now, you weren’t used to a little soreness and tension after a match, especially one as rough as last night’s Last Woman Standing match against your current feud partner Shayna Bazler.

But Lord was this a different kind of sore.

Every single muscle in your body felt like they had been stabbed with the tiniest needle ever created while also being set on fire. Your back felt like you’d been thrown through plexiglass over a dozen times. In your mind you made a mental note to have your chiropractor send Shayna his thanks for keeping him in business.

“Ow… oww… argh, ow!”

You wince at each small movement as you open your eyes only to be met with a soft but heavy material. You begin to pull it from over your head and are immediately met with the morning sun shining its insanely bright ass through the hotel window.

“Ah, oh God! Absolutely not!”

You grimace and pull the material back over your face, sinking deeper and deeper into your fluffy fortress as you wait for the throbbing pain in your head to subside.

Great, you thought to yourself. Sore and hungover: the perfect combination.

You lay your head flat against the mattress as you try to remember the events of last night. But as you did everything felt like a jumbled and confusing blur.

Tequila is an evil bitch from the depths of hell…

You can remember leaving the arena and catching a ride back to the hotel with Zelina as well as getting ready with her to go out for the night to celebrate.

And though you really didn’t want to, you remembered the call with your lying, cheating, bastard of a now EX-fiance Marcus before leaving the hotel, demanding that he have all of his things cleared out of your home by the time you came back.

Fuck you Marcus…

You can remember getting to the club late and having shots immediately pushed in your face, the thought alone made you feel queasy as if you could still smell the Don Julio.

You can remember getting pulled onto the dancefloor by… wait was it Cruz?? No it was Carmelo.

Or maybe it was Santos.

Knight??

You can remember when your best friend Rhea arrived alongside Dominik, Finn, and JD.

More shots.

You remember kicking your shoes off somewhere on the dancefloor cause the DJ was on one that night, playing banger after banger after banger. Was this when Finn was dancing with you??

But wait, was this before or after JD stepped on your foot while you were trying to teach him how to salsa??

More shots.

You remembered some random drunk guy trying to feel up on you and Rhea. And how he damn near started a brawl with every guy on the roster because of it before getting thrown out on his drunk ass.

More dancing. More shots.

So. Many. Shots.

Dancing on the bar with Samantha & Zelina like you were in Coyote Ugly and damn near slipping off the bar.

Getting cheered on in the ladies room while you flushed your engagement ring down the toilet.

Again, fuck you Marcus.

You hadn’t seen him come in with everyone, but at one point you noticed Damian Priest sitting over in a corner all by himself. You remember… pulling his stupidly large self on the dancefloor to dance with you?

Why in the world would you do that?

Or was it some other outrageously tall good-looking guy who resembled a younger Undertaker but Puerto Rican and from the Bronx…?

Even more dancing.

Shots. Shots. Shots.

Ugh, god why did I keep letting Rhea feed me all those damn shots? I swear I’m gonna kill her next time I see her. But how did I get back to the hotel?

Suddenly a flash of a memory appeared through the blurry fog of your mind. Lights. You remember seeing lights, streaks of gold and white racing past you. Was this from the time when you were in the cab? You wrap yourself in the memory, hoping more would come back.

Touch. You remember hands. Rough, calloused hands with the softest and most gentle touch brushing against your skin, pulling you onto their lap. Their touch traveling up from your neck down your spine before resting on your bottom, kneading your ass firmly. Caressing your skin as if it had been made of silk.

Taste. You could still taste his lips on yours. You felt them traveling up your neck to your earlobe, nibbling on that tender spot that makes you weak in the knees. Your shoulder, along your collarbone, in between the valley of your breasts, softly biting your nipple, trailing down your stomach… the action sending vibrations up and down your body.

Sound. A deep and foreboding voice in your ear, whispering the dirtiest things you could ever imagine, you softly moaning against his chest as his fingers… his fingers…

“Ugh.”

You let out a soft groan and go to rub your temples, a wave of nausea washing over you as the after effects of your night out for the first time since waking up begin to set in. Just like that the memory is gone, leaving you even more frustrated but also turned on. What and who did this to you?

You can’t remember the last time you’d gotten this drunk. Yes you can, two years ago during the weekend that Marcus proposed to you. He had booked this gorgeous resort in Barbados for the two of you with a private pool overlooking the beach. The night he asked you to marry him, the two of you had gotten so drunk you ended up running down to the beach, stripping down to nothing but your bra and panties, jumped into the ocean & then…

At that thought, your eyes widened in terror and you felt your heart drop down to your stomach.

Oh. Oh god no…

You lift up the side of the ivory comforter to glance over the edge onto the floor and see clothes, namely a lacy purple thong, ripped and strewn across it.

No, no, no. Imani Jade please tell me you didn’t…

That nausea from earlier began to creep up once again. You knew you had to look, but you didn’t want to. After a few moments,several deep breaths, and inner monologue pep talks, you psych yourself up just enough to do it. You release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and slowly lift the comforter and gaze down at your body.

Fuck. Me.

It was bad enough that you were as naked as the day you came into the world, but from the look of things, whatever you got into last you had a pretty good time doing it. Your eyes follow down your body, navigated by the trail of small purple marks decorating your lower half.

There was one just above your collarbone and one along the valley of your breasts, thankfully blending into your sternum tattoo. One hiding just under your left nipple, two or three up the side of your hip bone just near your tattoo, and then several decorating all along your inner thighs.

Shit, shit, shit. What the fuck Imani? You’ve only been newly single for all of three days and this is how you decide to celebrate? By getting shit faced and letting some random dick cover you in hickies?!?!

You ignore your body practically screaming for you to be still and move into a seated position in the bed, hand raised to shield you from any amount of sunlight creeping in. A soft hiss leaves your mouth as you feel your bare back press itself against the cold wooden headboard. On sheer instinct you grab the sheet from the bed and pull it up to cover your body.

Oh, now we wanna be modest. It’s a little too late for that don’t you think?

You looked over to your left, expecting to find your phone on the nightstand charging, alongside your iPad with the light purple leather cover and your glasses. But your phone’s not there, neither is your purple leather covered iPad or your glasses.

Oh no. No no no no...

You look around the room, your eyes widening in shock upon the realization: this was not your room.

In fairness, after spending nearly a decade on the road it gets to a point where all the hotels you stay at begin to blend together. But no matter what you were always, ALWAYS, able to tell which was your room and which wasn’t. And this was NOT your room. None of your things were here: your gym bag with your backup ring gear for last night weren’t laid out on the couch near the window, your laptop wasn’t sitting open on the desk just as you had left it before leaving, there were no makeup or various hair products stretched out along the top of dresser, and your lavender carry-on and backpack were not tucked away in the corner by the couch.

This wasn’t your room. It was the same hotel, but a different room.

What you did notice was your purse, your dress and your heels from last night alongside a very large set of men’s clothes creating a trail that starts at the door and leads towards the foot of the bed.

You also couldn’t help but notice that there were not one…

not two…

BUT THREE shiny, reflective, and OPEN gold foil packets tossed along the ground and nightstand.

Three? Goddamn Imani… I mean, at least you were safe right? That has to count for something… right?

You let out a soft groan and bring your knees up to your chest, placing your head atop them as you try yet again to remember what happened last night.

Come on Imani, think. What exactly happened from leaving the club to getting back to the hotel that got you here? How did you get back? Who did you ride with?? Please tell me he was at least hot and very well-endowed.

Stadium. Club. Dancing. Shots. Bye bye ring… blank space.

Stadium. Club. Dancing. Shots. Bye bye ring… nothing.

Stadium. Club. Dancing. Shots. Bye bye ring… nada.

“Ugh. This is a nightmare.”

This wasn’t like you, you were not this kind of girl. Sure, you had a couple hookups here and there in your early twenties, not to mention the “hot girl summer” during college, but you quickly outgrew that! You were a grown-up now, and grown-ups don't do nothing so crazy where you can’t remember it actually happening! And they especially don’t hook up with random strangers while technically on a goddamn work trip!!

Through all the emotional and mental chaos currently going on in your mind, you felt a sense of heaviness across your pelvis. For the first time since waking up you notice a very large, very muscular, and very tatted arm stretched across your stomach. The sound of soft snores now filled the once quiet room, like a faint rasp blending seamlessly with the stillness of the moment.

You took a breath, held it, and slowly turned your head to the left. You didn’t see a face, but rather a large figure sleeping peacefully, engulfed in the warmth of the hotel linen.

When you went to move your hand to remove the blanket, a low grumble stops you dead in your tracks. The body under the blanket suddenly shifts and turns over on its side, their back now completely facing you, before settling after a few seconds. You froze and wait for a few seconds for the sound of soft breathing to know they were still asleep.

You hadn’t the slightest idea what you would say to if he were. It had been a long time since you’d had a one-night stand and weren’t really sure if the rules were still the same.

Do you start with a “hi” or “Good Morning random dude?” Do you thank Mr. Random Dick for the sex? Could you possibly try and sneak out before they wake up??

Like, what was the standard practice and protocol here??

Once you were absolutely sure he was asleep you grip the blanket and slowly pull it away until the whole of his back was revealed to you. You gasp loudly and practically jump up off the bed and right onto the plush carpeted floor, landing hard on your ass with a heavy thud.

“Ah, son of a bitch!” you shriek, wincing at the pain of the impact.

But you ignore the immediate pain and spring up to peek over the bed, your eyes peering over the edge of the mattress as Mr. Random Dick on the bed started to wake up. He groaned and moaned, stretching his body out as if he’d just been awoken from a long deep hibernation. You couldn’t move, all you could do was sit there like a weirdo, buck naked on the carpet watching him. He sat up and stretched yet again, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. You watched as every single muscle on his back spasmed and flexed from the movement.

But your eyes were fixated on just one thing: his back. Aside from the various crescent shape indents and the long, red scratches painted down both sides of his back, your focus was solely on the giant piece of art that was etched into the center of his back.

From afar someone could easily mistake it as just a standard skull tattoo, but up close it revealed something more. The skull made way for the inside art, resembling that of a dark grim reaper.

You’ve seen that grim reaper before. Many times in fact.

I mean why wouldn’t you? After all, the two of you worked together.

And up until about ten months ago, you had considered him to be one of your closest friends.

His eyes began to open and you quickly ducked your head back down, pressing your back to the carpet and covering your face with your hands like that would actually hide you in this moment.

This was a joke. This had to be a joke.

Some sick, twisted, perverted version of a prank that the universe was playing on you. Of all the men in the world you could have slept with, all the random dick being slung around desperately begging to be some woman's drunken mistake... why did your drunken mistake have to be with him?!?!

The room had gone a little too quiet for your liking so you peeked through your fingers, gasping as his head emerged from over the edge of bed to look down at you. His dark brown eyes widened in shock at you lying on the floor of his room; naked, disheveled, and covered in purple marks.

“Oh my god-,” he began to trail off, the panic and exhaustion seeping to the surface. His voice cracked slightly, the usual confidence he exhumed nowhere to be found.

“Imani?”

Your eyes tried to avoid his gaze, but couldn't look anywhere but his eyes. You slowly release the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding all this time, your voice soft and shaky as you spoke.

“Hey Damian.”

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hwaightme · 1 year ago

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Take me back

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR BIKER!HWA’S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist) (join taglist)

🏍️ pairing: biker!seonghwa x afab!gangster!reader 🏍️ genre: smut, pwp, exes to lovers, fluff, a little angst, romance, just two fools in love 🏍️ summary: you want to convince yourself that you do not need seonghwa, that your rejection is for the best, but when instead of another rose he is the one waiting by your door, you are not so sure. 🏍️ wordcount: 6.9k 🏍️ warnings/tags: biker!hwa, quick solo edit, language, hwa has grills, head over heels enamoured hwa, mention of contraband/dealing of illegal substances, rejection, knight on a bike courting you, discussion of gang activity, set in strictland, lmk if anything else 🏍️ a/n: why hello there <3 i am trying to get back into writing, and seonghwa + the song 'take me back'… transformed me. always, any notes, reblogs and comments are appreciated, much love~

🏍️ perma-taglist: moved to the end of the post!

🏍️ nsfw tags: sub!hwa and soft dom!reader, no protection (wrap before you tap pls), oral (both giving and receiving), hints of scent kink but more for hwa's perfume, dirty talk, intense pet name content (baby, darling, sweetheart, love, pretty boy), praise both ways, riding/cowgirl, reader double orgasm, overstimulation, slight dumbification, creampie, implied cockwarming, cuddling and two people falling in love more and more with each passing second

It did not take much effort to figure out who left the solitary rose on the window sill, between floors three and five - an ironic nod to tradition despite the world moving in a four four time, right on the stairwell that led to your apartment. A white rose sculpted to an ideal by nature and by a cosmetic selection, cut away and left a stilled beauty in full bloom, honoured to wilt in your presence. Picking it up with two fingers, you admired the careful handiwork employed to remove the thorns, because heaven forbid you were to hurt yourself. A smirk pricked at the corner of your lips, but you dared not reveal it - the admirer could be waiting just for this, and you were not feeling particularly merciful tonight. Twisting the rose a couple of times, noting the lack of any tears, breakage in the petals or even as much as a hint of browning due to thoughtless damage, you turned your attention to the stark white sheet of paper, neatly folded in half so as to conceal the contents. Though, who else would dare touch any gifts that were obviously left for you? Certainly not those who knew you, or knew of the admirer who was waiting for a single sign that you would accept the offerings. Opening up the note, you found a new selection of confessions written in poetic lines, ink meticulous, a permanence introduced in a neat and familiar hand, every stroke a cry for you, over you, a projection across the city in an attempt to win your heart. Just like last time, except this time the theme was the moon instead of the sun. The stars, the ocean waters, the air embracing you. If one were to paint a portrait through the words etched onto the pages that you had become a secret collector of, you would become the universe. All-encompassing and all-consuming, having permeated into the heart, soul and mind and turning into reason and motivation, you were the eternal muse. Gaze slowly drifting from the page and onto the dim, dark street outside, you looked out at the corner of the street, right to where it faded into a miniature intersection, leading to a shopping district that was long abandoned and shut down aside from a few underground businesses and repurposed buildings that a regular passer-by would, or should never visit. You would never admit it, but you had grown to expect the silhouette that waited for you, maybe even welcome it. A singular constant in your daily life, one that you hated to admit, but had transformed into a grounding, a tether to something less than madness.

It was not comforting, however. Far from it. The man who was leaning against his motorcycle, side profile distinguishable against the faint lights emanating from the far backdrop was someone who had brought you emotion. And just as the government had prescribed in its comically persistent propaganda, disease was human emotion. Whether one served the nation or was working against it, whether one was a public figure for peace or a private figure for war, the state of feeling was oftentimes a disadvantage. It was, most certainly, the case in your line of work, despite you never directly subjecting yourself to risk - you were not that foolish quite yet. But the dedication of the man in black, blue and silver was forcing you to reconsider. Eroding the boundaries you operated within, knocking on the barriers to find a hollow which he could break. One of these days you knew that Seonghwa was going to be the death of you. Or perhaps the revival. Folding the note tightly shut you pressed it against the rose’s stem, and holding both items between your fingers you began your ascent to the door of your apartment, keys dangling from their ring that was in your other hand.

Soon enough, you heard the rumbling of the engine; that same motorcycle which you had come to see more often than the supplies you managed. As you slid the key into the door, you shut your eyes, imagining Seonghwa’s journey away from your complex. How his glasses, those you had joked about being from a laboratory, would glimmer under the jittery neon of old signs and the fading streetlights. How he would accelerate at the end of the road, making a sharp turn to the right. The grip you had on the note and the rose tightened as you recalled the exhilarating feeling of having your arms wrapped around his sensational waist, feeling the toned muscle underneath his black tank top, snaking your hands, letting them roam his body as he struggled to contain himself and keep on driving. You paid the risk no mind - if anything, this risk was the one you preferred so much more, over any other you had to keep subdued under a brutal thumb. Wondering why your mind was so afflicted this evening, you raised the rose again, detecting nothing suspicious. It was only once you raised the note as close to your face as possible that you rolled your eyes and let a sigh escape you. Of course, the perfume. That damn sweet perfume, with hints of coffee and vanilla, one only he could wear, one that you swore you would never be able to rid yourself off, even if you were to burn the house down and shed your own skin. The memory would remain and you knew that if anywhere, anyone, anyhow would let this perfume enter your system, only Seonghwa would be on your mind. Cursing under your breath, you finally unlocked the apartment and entered, washed over with a sense of dread due to your evident proximity to the handcrafted abyss. It was only a matter of time that this game would end.

Kicking your shoes off your feet and ambling to the living room, you approached the glass that you had positioned at the centre of the tiny dining table, taking out the rose you had previously received and replacing it with the new beauty. Mumbling a goodbye, simply to remind yourself of the fact that you could speak, more than anything, you let the flower disappear in the bin that was across the corridor, in the kitchen. You returned, regarding the white rose again, imprinting its every curve in your mind and hesitantly allowing yourself to compare the softness of the petals to your admirer’s lips, and moved to the cabinet off to the side. A contraband piece, unregulated, from someplace abroad that clearly had more daring, inspiring tastes than your home ever could, which was exactly why you had your loyal employees smuggle it along with the regular supplies to feed the insatiable demand of the sinful city that turned into bills for you. One door opened, another, a few numbers on a keypad pressed and you were in - one of the numerous safes hidden around the flat, the only ones that would stand the test of time, with this one containing the butterflies that plagued Seonghwa, those that he could not help but share with you, fighting pleas that you contained in steel. A cage for the emotions that the man stirred within you, your keeping of the notes supposedly out of sight and out of mind was the last resort for denial. You did not want to witness your demise, and yet, in the night when you were tossing and turning back and forth, illuminated by a hazy blue and grey, your retinas had every note burned into them and your brain would repeat every line back to you over, and over, and over again until you were lulled into a slumber, again, induced by the notion of the one man who you were trying your hardest to avoid. He was behind every corner, physical and spiritual.

He was in the way you cleared away the dishes after eating, the ghost of his torso pressed against your back as he would leave a peppering of kisses over your shoulder, in the crook of your neck and stopping right over the jugular, caressing the sensitive skin with his breath. Seonghwa was in the way you lied down to bed, always occupying the same side, gliding under the sheets that, even though you had washed them, softened them time and time again, you swore still held his echoes - how your body tried to reignite the reminiscence of how his arm would languidly find purchase on your hips or waist, how he would whisper sweet nothings into your ear, the shameless adoration tickling your cheek and colouring it in a faint blush. As you shut the safe with more aggression than anticipated, making the cabinet rattle from the impact, you shut your eyes, the sensation of the memory becoming too strong to handle. Seonghwa’s hands tracing abstract shapes on your stomach, sides, seemingly absent-mindedly trailing upwards to tease a timid gasp out of you, only to follow the curves and contours of your body down until he could have you in ultimate pleasure. And how, polite as ever, he would ask for it. Ask to touch you, beg for it unabashedly, recounting just how good he had been for you, how he would do anything for you, should you command him.

Seonghwa’s blind faith in you, his trust in harmony between outlaws and the timelessness of your union was the very reason you stepped away. With every fibre of what you had remaining of your tainted heart you wished for him to find someone better, someone safer, as far as possible from the rotten criminal hydra of which you were one of the many heads. Part of you always held onto the hope that he would leave the city for good. You knew there were better places out there where he could thrive not as a gang member or a fiend of the roads, but as an artist, a dreamer. You had heard enough stories of lands across the oceans where the sun smiled down on those who walked the grounds there, and how people had choice. Desperately, you wanted Seonghwa to make the right one and leave. But all your senses were far too close to overpowering your rationality that served as the single stop sign for the both of you. The one flicker that would set the gasoline ablaze, and leave you two to burn, unable to turn back. Without bothering to turn on any lights, you felt for your bedroom, stripping off the clothes that screamed both business and dealing, and collapsing onto the covers. Hands tracing the lace of your lingerie, you mused what the man of your dreams and nightmares was up to, across the district, under the same omniscient and omnipresent moon, perhaps thinking of you. His name rolled off your tongue far too easily, too comfortably for it to be forbidden. You knew exactly what would happen should he appear instead of another rose, and this awareness - you feared.

As soon as you stepped into the complex, met with the ancient and occasionally flickering bulb that hung right above the entryway, barely outside of the swinging reach of the rusted metal door, you felt the air had shifted while you were gone. The first sign, however, you had caught onto a lot earlier, during your brisk walk down the street, where you caught sight of a familiar motorcycle parked some ways off to the side, obscured by the smog-dulled trees and coughing shrubbery, and only just peeking out from behind a couple of dumpsters. You had to give it to Seonghwa, the place he chose to hide the vehicle was one of the best in the vicinity, but it was not a surprise - something told you that he had your part of the city mapped out and committed to memory, judging by how easily he navigated every corner, and knew exactly where and when you could catch sight of his presence. Slowly, you stepped towards the stairs, trying to steady your breath, failing to ignore the accelerating pace of your heart. The drumming overtook you, pushing away any sense of control and commitment to rejection, and it was as if you could feel every capillary, every artery and vein being set on fire, oxygen being reduced to nothing, lungs screaming and smoke filling your skull. Leaden legs lifting themselves one step, another until you covered the first flight, making a turn. Forgetting to count, you let your instincts guide you, and even though you knew that you were not going to find them, you were half hoping for another rose and note, a secure arrangement that meant you could fool yourself into not feeling as strongly as you, in reality, did. Suddenly, your suit was too tight over your body, the collar digging into your flesh, the sleeves constricting. You wanted to melt away, sink into the floor, turn into concrete, into the walls or the particles that drifted with the drafts before you were to come face to face with what you were so adamant on denying, with whom you were so adamant on denying. The sturdy soles of your dress shoes resounded on the hard stone stairs, marking your arrival. There was no going back, not now, not ever. As soon as the door to your part of the complex closed, so did the door to a destiny without the man who you could now spot on the next flight of stairs, sat outstretched on the cold angularity, elbows perched on one step higher than his body, impeccably balanced while his legs, bent slightly, were stationed on the flat turning. As you regarded his form through the dark grey, sparse railings, taking in the gravity of his unbelievable presence he did not spare you a single glance, instead choosing to remain downcast, peering off to the side, at the merging of the wall and stairs, or maybe he was caught up in his own thoughts, much like you had been a few too many days and nights.

It was only when you stopped right in front of him, stock still, crossing your arms - be it in defence or in threat, did he look up at you, shattering your heart into an innumerable torrential downpour of pieces. Eyes hidden behind those clear visor glasses were misty, hinting at unspilled melancholia, unexpressed need that only you could tear out of him, a living energy that had always been a sacrifice to your being. At your feet, much like how he was now, even though the pose which he had found himself in was nothing like what he had meant in the notes, in the actions, in the past. Seonghwa pushed himself off the stairs, sitting up straighter, head tilting upwards to not break eye contact. Almost as though if he were to look away, you would evaporate. The buttoned up silver collar of his jacket, concealing a few chains underneath, was gently applying pressure to his neck as he moved without daring to make any excessive movements, including adjusting his clothes. The man determined that he was toeing a far too dangerous line to try his luck with confidence.

After so long, after so many roses, after so many secrets that he had spilled in his poetry he could not continue any longer. Gone were the days when your mirage was enough, a hallucinatory visitation in the middle of his day never did satisfy him, but out of fear of disappointing you, he never went ahead with his urges and the cries of every nerve cell. Distance. A hint of your existence, a glimmer of the lights in your apartment, a dismissive picking up of his gifts from the window sill - those were his only joys as of late, but even that was no longer enough. He wanted you. He needed you. He needed you like a man needed air, needed earth, water, and fire. Seonghwa marked too many days on his calendar, drove too many miles without there being one last hope. So he gave into a risk, and bet his own life on it. As he allowed himself to drown in your ethereal glow, the beautiful, pleading man only just caught onto the words that sliced through the months of silence.

“No rose this time?”

Seonghwa let out a breath he did not know he was holding, and reached out for your legs, pulling you closer to him in a desperate call. Wrapping his strong arms around you, he pressed his forehead into your thighs, only a bite of the lip holding him back from breaking apart. He could not care less if you were going to scold him for crumpling your outfit, or for staining it with tears if they were to spill, for it was worth it. You were real. You were here. You were speaking to him and regarding him. Practically falling onto you and at your feet, Seonghwa wanted to be as close as possible, blend with and into you. Taken aback by the suddenness of the lurch towards you, you could only hold your hands up and let the proximity intoxicate you. Staring down at the top of his head, you had to give up your equilibrium to the man if you were to stay standing. Stay above him. And yet, a stray hand found itself floating through and towards the dark, slicked back locks that your palms remembered far too well. As you followed the lines of each strand, digits grazing the scalp, gently patting the impossibly soft and luscious hair, Seonghwa breathed raggedly beneath you, shaking ever so slightly. For how long had he been keeping it in, you wondered. For how long had he been carrying the weight of feeling with him without letting it escape into public exposure. Gently, you hooked the glasses upwards, letting them rest on the top of his head - a gesture that made him look up once more, hands still clenched around the material of your trousers. A flush of pink across his face, glistening eyes and the beginnings of a waterfall marking his relief threatening to trickle down his cheeks. You noted how his lips parted a couple of times, almost like he was in search to find the right words to say to you, maybe he had even already found them, but none made their way to your auditory, remaining a pantomime. Seonghwa was waiting for everything, and his everything was you.

“Oh come on, Hwa, why are you- up. Let’s get up, yeah?” you motioned with both hands for him to get up, and when he would not follow took a hold of his forearms, tugging until he submitted to the request, more moisture rushing to the surface as he was now right here, level with you on the same ground, in one another’s arms like before, with his nickname turning to the most magical melody when you uttered it, “Hwa, no, don’t cry, baby, I can’t stand to see you hurting.”

Thumbs running under his gorgeous eyes, over the stunning smooth skin and hands stopping to cup his face, you admired him with a full heart, letting go of prior inhibitions. There was no point in trying to ignore what had always been, what you would never be able to escape. You hated how you made him feel this pain. You knew you were the instigator, it was obvious to anyone how you were the one who did not want to follow through with hardships and looked for an easy way out, only finding dead ends and lies in the process. His aroma embraced you in a hypnotising cloud, the same one that never left you. The addictive sweetness that you wanted more, more of until there was nothing remaining. Leaning closer to Seonghwa, you took it in, faces a mere centimetre apart, suspense on a single breath.

“I’m sorry, I could not help it… I-”

“I should be the one who is sorry, baby, don’t say that,” he was too good for this world, you concluded yet again. The longer you knew Seonghwa, the more convinced you became that he was not meant for the city, nor for the life you or he led. You needed to work harder if that could mean buying your and his freedom out of this system.

“Sorry…” he mumbled again, unsteady, inching towards you until his nose brushed against yours. His gloved hands were securely under your suit jacket, toying with the fabric of your white shirt. You nudged him again, reassuring that he was doing everything right, that at least now, he was safe. With you, he was safe.

One of your hands etched the alluring edges of his jawline, travelling down his body and stopping at the jacket. Index finger under the collar, you tugged on the silver material, earning a deeper, expectant sigh from the man. As you snapped the button, pushing the outerwear apart to give you access to his accessories, you felt the metal - warm from the impossible heat oozing from Seonghwa, and slid your digits down the middle of the chest, stopping momentarily at the solar plexus, catching the erratic rhythm of his heart, so intense that you would not be shocked if it were to jump out at any second. You pulled at the black material of his tank top, forcing him to be up right against you, and to stop him from attempting to apologise any more, shifted attention to direct him by his chin. At your mercy, Seonghwa followed. Plush lips parted in anticipation, glossy orbs gaining a darker undertone in the palette contained within, he waited for your final say.

“Did you miss me?”

“Yes. Damn, yes. So much. Too much.” he whispered feverishly, fingers digging into your hips as he sensed your intentions.

“In what ways did you miss me, Seonghwa darling?” knowing that he would achieve nothing if he were to close the gap now, your reawakened passion darted between watching how your mouth moved as you spoke, and studying your irises, head clouded by what had been, and what could be.

“In… every way.”

“Oh, baby, you’re going to have to be a lot more detailed than that.” you mumbled against his lips, leaning away just as he was about to instinctively seek you out.

“I… your company… your words…”

“Should I move? So we can talk?” you teased, jokingly trying to detangle yourself, but to no avail as Seonghwa’s hold got only stronger, and you felt the leather of his trousers fully aligned and pressed against yours. He was impatient, seeking any form of friction, and yet was still holding out well.

“No… please Y/N.”

“Then tell me, what did you miss, exactly, so I can help you out?” an intensity behind the question threw Seonghwa off balance, making his head spin. Your newfound mastery of the dual renaissance bled onto the pages of the future, yet to be written, determined by every action.

“Your lips.”

“Mhm,” you leaned closer, planting a pack on his lips when he least expected it. Just enough to make him realise what you had done, but not any more, denying him the satisfaction of falling into you. Upon hearing his frustrated whine - music to your growing desire, you continued, “what else?”

“Your- your tongue.” he stuttered, eyelashes fluttering as he glanced everywhere except at you, all while rocking ever so slightly on the spot.

“Elaborate, sweetheart, or do I need to drag everything out of you?” you tightened your hold on his chin, dragging him back to you.

“No. Goodness… this is embarrassing…”

“Oh, is my poor baby getting shy? Since when? You always made such pretty sounds for me and now can’t tell me what you want. How am I supposed to take that, hm?” Seonghwa’s cheeks transformed before you, traversing every shade of pink before settling on the deepest hue, “will you be good for me, Hwa? Will you tell me what you missed?”

“I,” he paused, reconsidering, weighing his words, “I miss the way you make me lose my breath when you kiss me. I miss how you unravel me, ruin me with your tongue and mouth around my cock. I miss the feeling of you riding me, I love how every part of you and I is riddled in pleasure as I fill you up with cum and how you don’t stop until I am barely present, and then you bring me right back. I miss how you know me. How you- how you taste. I miss you, Y/N,” he shot at lightning speed, stumbling over his words as he revealed the scenes of his long-standing collections of fantasies that echoed from when you had lived heart to heart, body to body.

The depiction set you ablaze more fiercely than before, and any hints of fear were fully replaced by a carnal greed for the man before you. Need was an understatement. You redefined sin with your voiceless urgency, pushing yourself into Seonghwa’s arms fully, feeling a considerably stronger pressure against your hips where he was standing - clearly you were not the only one who was damning the existence of locks and doors that were barring you from direct access to your apartment.

“See, was that so hard? Now, let me show you how much I miss you.”

A rush, an all consuming energy, a passion that you had not known, taken for granted and realised only when you purposefully lost it and gained it back thanks to Seonghwa being the one to not give up on you, on the flame the two of you created. Your lips moved in a seamless tandem as you stumbled forwards, pushing Seonghwa closer and closer to the door. Fortunately, he had a good enough sense of his surroundings to not trip, falling only for you. You hummed into the sensation, heat pooling to your core as you tasted the coolness of his grills. Nipping at his lush lower lip, you beckoned him to deepen the kiss, a request to which he obliged almost immediately, tilting his head for a better angle. Groaning into the intimacy, you fished out your keys, and after a couple of clumsy tries, finally heard the click of the mechanism. With his foot Seonghwa curled around the door, opening it to give the two of you access, and just barely, you managed to catch it back and slam it shut. As soon as the sound reverberated over the two of you, a switch flipped in your lover, and his hands which were previously almost tied to your hips now freely roamed your body, relearning it, tracing every curve like there was nothing better in this world. Like you were the statue of a goddess and he was a devoted sculptor, working on the masterpiece for all of eternity, aware that he would never be able to replicate the true beauty but still remaining fixated on the blessing that was the process.

Shoes left in a messy pile on the doormat - a problem for later, the two of you tripped over one another, choosing to remain in one another’s arms as you finally made it down the corridor and to your bedroom. As you stood by the frame, you ran over Seonghwa’s inner lips with your tongue, seeking access, and relishing in his taste, better than you could have ever recalled even if you made the effort to. Seonghwa tasted of longing, of a faith that was so rare you swore he was a man from long-forgotten myth or fairy tale, and of the slightest hint of strawberry that he loved so much - the first contraband not meant for human ruin that you had arranged transport and distribution for. Tongue grazing the gold that covered his lower teeth you were finally fully aware, trusting the now; you were not dreaming, you were with him, and you need not deny yourself nor him.

You led him deeper into the room, patient as he felt for the bed behind him to obediently take a seat. Taking his glasses off his head, leaving them on top of a dresser, and motioned for him to rid himself of the jacket and gloves, an order that was punctuated by the articles falling with a thud to the floor. Chuckling to yourself as you recalled Seonghwa’s usual concern with neatness and organisation, the action turned to be a confirmation of his yearning for you. Your own jacket now hanging off the back of a chair located in the far corner of the room, you sauntered back to Seonghwa, swinging a leg over his lap and taking a comfortable seat, facing him. His breath hitched as you grinded closer, feeling his clothed arousal against your body. Following the motion with a few more moves of your hips, Seonghwa gasped, letting his head fall forward, forehead hitting the crook of your neck.

“Y/N, please.”

“Please what?”

“I need you…”

“How do you need me?” you coaxed every wish out of him, gaining pleasure every time he would pause to contain his urge to hide, to back out of answering you, aware of the consequences if he dared to question or dishonour your demands in this sultry ritual.

“I need your mouth, please love, I cannot stand this.”

“But it is right here,” you pointed at your lips, reddened from the previous contact, a coy smile rendering Seonghwa helpless.

“Do you not feel it? Please Y/N I am begging you I need you to su-”

“Not so fast, pretty boy, I need you to convince me.” you cut him off before he could finish his sentence, “can you do that for me?”

“Yes, a million times yes. Please.”

“I suppose I’ll be nice and help you with my clothes,” one button, another, it seemed that Seonghwa was counting with you, ravenous. His hands undid the button and zipper of your trousers, pulling at them to ask for you to let him slide them off. In a few practised moves, you were left only in your bra and panties, a lacy white, earning whispers of praise from Seonghwa, a love for just how well the piece he had bought you some time ago looked, and you, by a twist of fate, happened to choose to wear today.

“Will you lie down for me? All the way up,” without further explanation, Seonghwa shimmied backwards until his head practically hit the headboard, eyes remaining on you, widening as you hastily took off your panties, exposing what he had been pleading for. Crawling towards him, you placed a hand on his chest to tap him out of a lustful stupor, “now darling, can you show me how much you missed my taste?” a nod, another, but you did not move, “words, Seonghwa, I need words.”

“Yes, let me taste your pussy, please.”

“Of course, since you asked so nicely.”

Positioning yourself over Seonghwa’s face, you gripped onto the headboard and lowered yourself until a hungry tongue ran over your already soaked folds, making you gasp. With tentative licks he drew tender, slow circles over your clit before dragging his tongue back to taste you fully, moving in and out of your hole, curling into it. He returned his attention to your sensitive bud, rolling right over its tip, earning a rewarding moan which spurred his eagerness to drive you to higher pleasure. Knuckles turning white from your efforts to maintain at least some illusion of balance, your breaths quickened as he continued to run his tongue over your core, accelerating the buildup of your climax with every flick. Attentive, worshipping every part of you, he sucked on your clit, relishing in the taste of your slick that now coated him.

His hands found purchase on your thighs, levelling you and bringing you even closer to him until his nose was pressed against you, and tongue driven deeper into your wet cunt. A parched man, Seonghwa groaned against you as he felt the first signs of your approaching orgasm, with the vibration sending an electrifying jolt straight to your core.

“Ah- Hwa I-”

“You taste so good, thank you, love,” he mumbled from under you, only to return to abusing your heat with his swift tongue, speeding up as he felt your pussy begin to clench, beg for more, and a light trembling start to course through your muscles. Burying his head between your legs and lapping at the nectar from the lustful, voracious pokes into your hole at the very base to intricate sensuality over your clit, Seonghwa drove you over the edge.

Supporting you through your orgasm with his powerful arms, he moaned as you rode it out, drinking your release and revelling in its sweetness. Stars in your vision, you struggled to lower yourself off your lover, a shudder running over your body as he lifted you a little higher, sliding upwards to give himself a better angle. The action snapped you out of a loss, and you found yourself kneeling next to him, smiling in gratitude.

“Such a good boy for me, thank you my love.”

“Always. May I… kiss you?” he inquired meekly, wondering if his present state could potentially deter you.

“Of course,” you leaned in, closing the space, tasting yourself on Seonghwa’s lips, tongue and grills, but even then, nothing could be more perfect. His hand stretched to run over the side of your face, motivating you to come closer. Fingers in your hair, tugging ever so gently left you breathless. Breaking away, you mumbled promises against his lips, hands moving to work on his leather trousers.

Getting the hint, his top, too, was soon found strewn on the floor, leaving him in the accessories that appeared to only highlight his beauty, so meticulously picked and paired that you had to force to take your gaze away. His irresistible tanned body, every rise and fall of his chest highlighted by the shadows that decorated the room. His beguiling, glazed over expression that was trained on you as you planted kiss after kiss on his torso, each making him question if he could ever breathe again.

“I missed you, Hwa, so,” one peck, “so,” another, “much,” ending below his navel, hand hovering over his member, so painfully erect that you almost felt guilty for getting him to eat you out first.

“I missed you ah-” hand coated in precum and your spit, you positioned it at the base of his cock, causing the abrupt cut in his response. With a steady pumping, you addressed Seonghwa, feigning obliviousness.

“Sorry, you were saying?”

“I- I- fuck-” squeezing its girth, you rubbed circles over the tip, making him lose his train of thought, or its remnants.

“So?” holding his dick in place, you waited for his response before reacting to his earlier words.

“Y/N I missed you- ah shi-” upon hearing the sought after phrase you lowered your head.

Opening your mouth, you shifted position to take in as much of him as you could, gliding your tongue against the shaft in practised motions and moaning as you felt him twitch with the warmth. The dribble that ran down the still exposed length added to the wantonness of the situation as you left behind any wish to remain cautious with Seonghwa; after all, he had been explicit with his love for ruin. Centering yourself, you relax your jaw further, taking in more until you could sense the tip approaching the back of your throat. You placed one hand on your lover’s pubic bone, warning him to not buck his hips, even though you were perfectly trusting of him remaining obedient. Dragging your head up and back down, it was easier moving to the sounds escaping from Seonghwa’s throat.

Gripping onto the bed sheets, he was abandoning the clarity and resolve with which he had showed up at your door so many times. Rose after rose he had not been sure if it was you he was convincing or himself. But here, amidst the unfathomably divine pleasure, Seonghwa was merely grateful for how trivial it was, how natural it was for you to take him back. His high was fast-approaching, but before he could act on it you were already removing yourself with a lewd pop, fingers between your folds and twisting to massage your overstimulated clit. Unclasping your bra, you noticed Seonghwa’s otherwise unfocused gaze immediately switching to paying close attention to your breasts, cock twitching in anticipation as you repositioned yourself to be on top of him. Teasing the tip of his leaking member by trailing it between your folds, you watched Seonghwa’s face contort in pleasure once more, wholly submitted to you as you guided it inside of your pussy. As you sank down on him, sighing from the way in which he filled you up, pushing against your walls in all the right places, Seonghwa grunted, eyes squeezed shut, overwhelmed from the stimulation. It was clear that he was using all the strength he had left to hold himself back from acting rashly - he wanted you, he missed you, and he was not about to let this heaven go.

You started to ride him, hands on either side of his body as you lifted your hips only to drive them back down, sheathing his member inside your cunt. Conscious of the fact that he should let you take the full lead, Seonghwa took to searching for anything better to hold than the sheets, crumpled into oblivion and leaving little in terms of comfort. Grounding him as you rocked your hips forward and back, you found his arms, gliding upwards until your fingers intertwined. Seonghwa’s eyes snapped open and he stared at you open-mouthed, in disbelief at your initiative for what he had clearly remembered you labelling as ‘too close for comfort’. Instead of abandoning the gesture, you tightened your hold, your own moans amplifying and joining his breathlessness as the knot in your core grew tighter and tighter with every thrust.

“Is this- what- you cannot live without, Hwa?”

“Fuck- yes, yes, yes-” words spilled out of him while you picked up speed, spurred on by the nudge of his hips that signified he was close. When he was not submerging himself into pure darkness, he could only manage to register the rhythmic motion of your breasts and an

“Can’t stop thinking of this pussy even when your cock is stuffed inside, huh?”

“Love this pussy- please, Y/N…”

“Love to be fucked dumb by me?”

“Yes, please I- I am so close Y/N…” his wavering voice and feeble pants cried for affection, which you readily provided even though you had no plans of slowing down.

“I know, baby. Fill me up, fill me up with your cum. You can do it darling-”

Seonghwa did not need any more encouragement. With a final groan, suppressed only by a snapping of his jaw to turn the sound into a prolonged hiss, his hips bucked uncontrollably into you, painting your pulsing walls with ropes of white, the awaited release rendering any speech into indecipherable babble. But you still had your high to chase, and restarted your movements, grinding your hips over his throbbing member to build up your climax while Seonghwa held onto you, whining from the excessive stimulation.

“Such a good boy for me, letting me cum over your cock.”

“I- this is too much I-”

“Are you feeling okay, baby?”

“Don’t, please do not stop- I want to make you- ah, cum,” he answered, each word uneven as you raised yourself repeatedly until, with one final movement and the stroke of the tip against your most sensitive spot, you collapsed on top of your lover, a shiver running over you as your pussy clenched around his dick, milking him of the last of his release.

Rolling over to the side, but not quite wishing to move, you remained in one another’s arms, sweat glistening in the night light, adoration ablaze in every feature. Sliding out his softening member from your warmth, a shy smile adorned his lips as a mixture of slick and cum followed, spilling onto your gorgeous thighs. He tapped you on the shoulder, helping you up so that your faces would be level with one another, and pressed his forehead to yours. He focused on your proximity, pulling you closer, closer until there was no space left. He never wanted to let you go. Never again. If you so wished, you could walk away, but he was sure that his heart would remain with you.

If you wanted to, you could throw it away, burn it, cut it into pieces, but it would still be yours. As he saw his future being written in your pupils, he planted a loving kiss on your lips, for it to be returned with just as much feeling. No longer did you wish to hide it away from him. Your emotion, your expression and vision were his. It was clear to you that there was no one else in this universe who could be trusted more than him. If he so wished, you would let him leave you in the cold. If he decided you need not create, you would agree. If innovation was not in his plans, you would follow. In love was sacrifice, in love was offering, in love was future, in love were you and him. It was as simple as the unfurling of a pearl white rose, as clear as ink on white paper.

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lowrezbonuslevel · 1 month ago

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you... are my nakama.......!

Day 2 Revenge Kirby Fighters 3 and Knuckles: Old Man Yaoi Edition

⚠️ LONG (but good-faith) RANT (that gives a little extra context for today's drawing) UNDER THE CUT (don't worry it's not shipping discourse lmao) ⚠️

Okay so I know neither of these modes are canon and therefore it's SORT OF a moot point, but NARRATIVELY SPEAKING, Meta Knightmare Returns and Dededetour are completely and utterly backwards, right???

What beef does King Dedede have with Dark Meta Knight? What beef does Meta Knight have with Sectonia and Dark Matter Swordsman (besides the fact that they both breathe and hold pointy weapons)? I understand that there's this ongoing plotline with having MK face swordfighters to test his skill, but I still think King Dedede should have been the one to rematch both DMS and Sectonia in Robobot (I do know Sectonia DX in TDX exists, but she isn't the final boss of the Dededetour mode which kinda sucks).

Shadow Dedede himself is a decent idea, but he's new to the series and has absolutely no story introduction (and his design isn't all that interesting, at least to me). Sectonia? Love her, but she deserves a Dedede hammer to the face for all three phases and more. DMS (and Dark Matter in general)? The ORIGINAL Dedede opp (besides Kirby lol). I know these are just clones in-story, but the coolness factor is still there.

You can make the argument that MK got to fight Mecha Knight because of MKR--which is cool, definitely, but if it were King Dedede the same could be said for the Dedede Clone fight, so in my eyes it evens out (actually... Dedede beating Stock Mecha would probably have been even more hype. imho).

Also, a Galacta Knight battle with solo King Dedede would be rad. The power scalers would have a FIELD DAY!!!

Likewise, Meta Knight never actually got to beat DMK in a proper battle at any point, did he? So based on both canon and alt timelines, DMK could still whoop MK's ass. That's just wrong... :(

It's my understanding that TDX was made with absolutely no anticipation of Robobot, so it could be the case that they simply didn't want to give Dedede the spotlight twice. But I sort of wish they had held back on MKR regardless.

Really, I don't think you NEED the anticipation of Robobot's specific plot/mechanics to see that MKR would have fit perfectly in TDX, because it answers the question of "where the hell is MK and why did he sit back when Dedede got kidnapped"? Having him fight DMK would be a way cooler explanation than an implicit "he was doing something somewhere else."

Maybe he's been fighting on the sidelines and is now clearing out the castle--which is full of Sectonia's remaining minions, the strongest and most loyal--and getting to the bottom of some source of magic still coming from the castle. Meanwhile Dedede and Kirby are helping out the people of mainland Popstar that were displaced by Sectonia and the Dreamstalk. And DMK (or, even better--a form of Dark Mind!) serves as the final boss.

Likewise, while the main events of Robobot are going on, the King could be helping Floralia defend themselves from the invasion. (The existence of Sectonia Clone combined with the pause screen that claims "Floralia is too remote to be mechanized yet" is literally just a plot hole anyway. The invaders couldn't overtake Floralia by the time we're fighting Sectonia Clone... despite the fact that they obviously DID find the huge plant that leads DIRECTLY to their kingdom AND the invaders have a mother(computer)ship the size of Planet Popstar AND practically infinite robot soldiers...? Be so fr...)

Extra work/game industry deadlines are a consideration too, but I don't think that applies too heavily here because both modes could have heavily reused and repurposed assets and level designs.

MK could have just had the typical EX mode recolors and stuff, but maybe with the story explanation/design concept that the bosses are being controlled by the Dark Mirror this time, instead of being aggravated by Taranza.

Dededetour in Robobot could have subsequently reused TDX assets. I feel like this is even a case where reskins are the objectively cooler option, as opposed to entirely new assets: seeing the flowery, green areas of Floralia converted to gross, grey landscapes would have been AWESOME, as well as seeing the insects and flower-based enemies turned to robots. Maybe the People of the Sky have been mind controlled: the six main flower fairies work together as a miniboss, and defeating them/breaking their mind control apparatuses is how they are "rescued" here, in parallel to their game of origin. Maybe Taranza is also being mind-controlled in an act of universal karma and Dedede has to bail him out. That would be sick!

This stuff isn't a series-ruiner by any means, but it genuinely feels like a glitch in the Kirby matrix that the plotlines here are so mismatched. If I were whimsically rewriting the Kirby series, the MKR and Dededetour swap would probably be the first change I'd make. (And, again, I'd like to acknowledge that there are/were probably practical considerations of which I'm ignorant.)

You know how the series could still fix everything, though...? Kirby Fighters 3, BUT this time King Dedede and Meta Knight are the main protags. They get to fight magically-summoned/echo versions of DMK, DMS, Sectonia, King D-Mind, Yin-Yarn... you name it. TOGETHER. As husbands should!!!

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java-lava · 1 year ago

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My Favorite webnovels/Webtoons/Webcomic/Whatever;

The Remarried Empress

My Gently Raised Beast

I Became the Villain’s Stepmother

Born as the Second Daughter

My In-Laws are Obsessed with Me

The Tyrant Wants to be Good

Men of the Harem

The Matchmaking Baby Princess

Who Made Me a Princess

For my Derelict Favorite

I Thought My Time Was Up

I’m the Queen in This Life

Tricked into the Heroine’s Stepmother

Woes of a Male Lead

Baby Tyrant

Hello Baby

Go Away Romeo

Monster Duke’s Daughter

Divorcing My Tyrant Husband

From a Knight to a Lady

The Male Lead’s Girlfriend

When the Third Wheel Strikes Back

A Heart for the Emperor

My Husband Changes Every Night

Edit to add(I’m constantly updating this);

The Twins New Life

I Got Pregnant with the Tyrant’s child

I’ll Raise You Well in This Life, Your Majesty!

The Evil Princess Dreams of a Gingerbread House

I’m the Soldier’s EX-Girlfriend

I Adopted the Male Lead

Villains Are Destined to Die

The Crown Princess Scandal

Marry My Husband

Perfect Marriage Revenge

Boyfriend of the Dead

Refund High School

Siren’s Lament

Empire’s Cutest Little Hostage

A Tender Heart; The Story of How I Became A Duke’s Maid (dropped due to SPOILERS the child being the ml and his nanny being the fl)

I Hold the Tyrant’s Heart

Lout of the Count’s family

I Am the Villain

The Crown Princess Scandal

The Dragon King’s Bride

Please Kill My Husband

The Reason Why Raeliana Ended up at the Duke’s Mansion

Am I Your Daughter?

Taming the Marquess

Pricilla’s Marriage Proposal

Crowning my Feral Prince

Under the Oak Tree

Finding Camellia

I Raised a Black Dragon

Adeline’s Darkest Night

Wish Upon a Husband

My Husband, My Sister, and I

I’m Being Raised By Villians

Talented Baby Squirrel

The Greatest Estate Developer

The Little Princess and Her Monster Prince

Surviving as the Tyrant’s Daughter

Father I Don’t Want This Marriage

Ten Ways to Get Dumped by a Tyrant

I Will Live The Life of a Villainess

Vampire Husband

Cursed Princess Club

What the Evil Dragon Lives For

1HP Club

Days With You

Batman: Wayne Family Adventures

Love Me to Death

Suitor Armor

I’ll Be the Matriarch in This Life

How is This Hot Duke Just a Background Character

My Three Tyrant Brothers

You Are Obsessing Over the Wrong Person, Lord of the Tower!

Beware the Villainess!

It’s Not Your Baby!

Being Loved for the First Time

I Will Divorce the Female Lead’s Older Brother

Everyone’s Princess

Villainess Have More Fun.

A Wicked Tale of Cinderella’s Stepmom

A Stepmother’s Marchen

The Beloved Fake Saint

Daughter of the Archmage

How to Hide the Emperor’s Child

The Male Lead’s Little Lion Daughter

The Crow’s Prince

The Reason for the Twin Lady’s Disguise

Adopted by a Murderous Duke Family

If anyone wants a one-shot based on a character from any of these, let me know

If anyone know where I can continue reading these for free, pls let me know (I’m broke);

Empire’s Cutest Little Hostage

A Tender Heart; The Story of How I Became A Duke’s Maid (nvm. About this one, I’ve been told that the child IS the Ml)

I Hold the Tyrant’s Heart

Lout of the Count’s family (found on Tapas)

Crowning my Feral Prince

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king--of--ducks · 9 months ago

Text

I am Lucifer Morningstar, King of Hell, sin of Pride!

🍎I am Lucifer Morningstar, but you can call me Luci’ or even Apple Daddy if you wish~🍎

🍎I have a daughter named Charlotte, but everyone calls her Charlie. And if anyone hurts her, well, I’ll fucking wipe them out. This is my game, I’m the ref!🍎

🍎Charlie has informed me that I, apparently, have fans on the internet? And I figured if there are people who love me out there, might as well talk to them! Take that depression!🍎

🍎No spamming walls of text/emojis in my ask!🍎

OOC:I have no association with Vivziepop or her characters, this is just an obsessed fan being bored and goofing off. Things will most likely be out of character at times, I’m just kinda having fun with this.

I also decided to edit my pinned post to add this bit. This blog has been covering sensitive topics lately such as sh, ed, sui, and more. If you are not comfortable with this, I try to tag the posts to the best of my feeble minded capabilities, but that is content you can find here, so be warned.

I have a Discord server

Oh wow, it’s lore!

Personal lore

The Morning(star)

The Scars of an Angel

A Brush with Death

A fateful farewell

The loss of a brother

Extra lore

A Heartfelt Message

The Blue-Gem series

The Blue-Gem series(2)

The Blue-Gem series(3)

The Blue-Gem series(4)

The Blue-Gem series(5)

Mod—

@sockmanduckman

Circle of role players—

Same mod—

@moxxies-wife—Blitzø’s employee #1

@mammon-money-maker—Nuisance

@wally-wackfords-wacky-blog—Blitzø’s old chum

@ace-loves-josh

@the-666-news

@wiener-warrior—Adam

@gossip-sipper

Family—

@charlie-morningstar666–My beautiful little girl!

@the-moth-ex-angel—Soon to be daughter in law!

@alyxdefoisnthere—Bad sleep schedule daughter.

@damian-morningstar—Son

@headlessdeaddancer—My (step-)son!

@mcalastor—fiancé Freaky ass bitch.

@god-the-lord—My father has Tumblr?!?!

@bigdoginthesky—Another dad

@theholymessenger—Gabriel

@theholyhealer—Raphael

@michael-the-morningstar—Michael

@heavenly--knight—Another Michael?!?!

@ask-the-archs—2 for 1

@featheryhoe—King of Lust

Other—

@blitztheoissilent—Blitzø (formerly @blitz-horsie-enthusiast and @blitz-the-o-is-silent)

@logical-imp—Blitzø’s employee #2

@ducky-loyal-servant-of-lucifer—Cure for depression

@xxsmilingdeerxx—Freak

@radio-demon-on-the-air—Freak *2

@fizzythefrog—Blitzø’s bestie

@blue-gem-overlord—Ripoff Lapis

@heavens-gatekeeper—Petah!!!!

@king-mammon—Another Mammon

@sad-bird-stolas—My bestie

@the-original-dickmaster—My best friend

@the-exterminator—Adam’s petty ex

@lute-head-exterminator—Adam’s petty ex*2

@bad-boy-lover—Niffty

@nifftyhasaknife—Niffty*2

@penguinmaster9999—T and pals

@deadbeatbartender—Husker

#hazbin #hazbin hotel #lucifer #lucifer hazbin #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer magne #hazbin lucifer #roleplay #hazbin roleplay #hazbin hotel roleplay #hazbin ask blog #Apple Sauce:Original Posts #pinned post #pinned intro #king--of--ducks

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madeofkay · 9 months ago

Text

Rainy Nights | Moon Knight X Reader

ONE SHOT (maybe?)

warnings: jake/marc/steven x fem!reader, angst, !!!dv abuse (not by them, but by an ex), stalking, creepy text messages, and so many typos (ill edit it soon— i wrote this at 4am lol)

summary: When your coworker Steven has growing concerns regarding your safety from an ex-boyfriend, he decides to drive you home one night.

please reblog if u liked it! i love to see comments too :)

Anxiety pooled in the cavity of your chest as you walked through the dimly lit museum, its halls empty now past closing time. A relentless patter of rain against the roof amplified your defeated mood, casting a pall over the end of your shift. Leaning wearily against the gift shop counter, you let out a deep sigh, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on you.

“A long day for you?”

The male voice behind you jolts you, and you spin around, startled. "Maybe a warning next time?" you suggest, holding a hand over your racing heart.

Steven's lips form an 'o' of surprise before he nods hastily. "Apologies, really. I won't sneak up on you like that again." His eyes carry more guilt than he deserves, and you regret snapping at him.

"No worries, I might just startle too easily," you reply, resting your elbows on the countertop. "Nevermind me, how was your day, Steven?"

Steven's nerves spike at the chance to converse with you, a rarity amid your busy tour guide schedule. "Oh, you know," he stammers, grappling for words to make his boring gift shop shift sound cool. "Just a usual day for me." His gaze unintentionally dips to your attire, and he flushes, flustered by the sight of your breasts pressed together.

He shouldn’t look at you that way, he knows that. But you make him so nervous.

“I’m starting to think that I should’ve had control of the body for this interaction,” Marc spoke in his mind.

You nod and smile, charmed by Steven's shyness. "I hope that’s a good thing," you remark, recalling the challenges of your day as a tour guide at the museum. "Today, I was basically herding a bunch of primary school children. They were running off in every direction, and the chaperones were on their phones! It felt like I was conducting a circus instead of a museum tour." You gesture an explosion with your hand, prompting a cheeky smile from Steven.

A pinging sound from your pocket interrupts his response. Your eyebrows furrow as you dig it out of your dress pocket, unlocking it with your passcode.

Where are you, y/n?

Your heart sinks as you read the text from an unknown number, fear washing over your expression. Steven notices the shift in your demeanor, and resists the urge to glance at your phone. "I'm sorry, I just need to respond to this message," you murmur, turning away, your breaths growing shallow.

Please, it’s over. Just leave me alone.

His response came fast.

You know that isn’t true. I’ll come get you, why aren’t you home? I still care.

Are you already cheating on me with somebody else?

Please just tell me where you are, I’m sorry. I miss you so much. I just want to fucking talk to you.

A barrage of texts from your ex-boyfriend fills the screen with message bubbles. You swallow, feeling the weight clog your throat, your hands trembling as the desire to go home fills you.

To hide. That is, if home was still safe.

Steven's concern deepens as he draws near, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. You flinch at the touch, hastily shoving your phone back into your pocket. But you know he's already had a glimpse of your phone screen. "Is everything alright, love?" he inquires, his voice laced with concern.

Marc was pissed off inside Steven’s head. “Who the fuck was texting her all of that?” he spat. Confusion grew in Steven’s mind as he contemplated the identity of the person behind the creepy messages. Lines of worry formed at the base of his forehead from the sound of your silence.

You force a tight-lipped smile, attempting to mask the turmoil swirling within. "It's nothing, just someone texting the wrong number," you respond, your voice strained with feigned nonchalance. Deep down, you know it's far from nothing. The barrage of texts dredges up memories you've tried so hard to bury, reopening wounds you thought had healed.

Steven's brow knit together, his gaze probing but respectful of your boundaries. "If you ever need to talk about it, I'm here," he offers gently, his sincerity evident in his soft tone. His words offer some reassurance amidst the anxiety raging inside your head.

You take a deep breath. “Thank you.”

Steven nods his head in understanding after a few moments, unsure as to his next words. “Y/N,” he pauses, “allow me to drive you home tonight, it is quite late.”

Your mouth parts slightly without a response as you turn back to look at him. His eyes drag over your sunken expression, clearly worried. The sound of rain hitting the museum roof and the darkness of the night influence your decision. “Okay,” you smile gratefully, “I’d appreciate that very much.”

—

Steven guided the way to his car, his presence feeling like steady anchor. The car ride unfolded in silence, punctuated only by the soft tunes of the radio's top hits playing at a low volume. Each bump in the road sent tremors through the small cabbie car, accentuated by the relentless rain hammering against the windows. You felt a sudden jolt as the car hit a rain-filled pothole, splashing dirty street water against the passenger window.

With trembling hands, you power off your phone, the text messages echoing in the back of your mind. Your clammy palms press together, trying to hold onto something solid. As the car gets closer to your neighborhood, your gaze slowly lifts from your lap, uncertainty flickering in your mind.

"Y/N," Steven's voice breaks the silence, causing your heart to slam against your chest like a trapped animal. "This might sound strange, but I want to ask you something."

You nod hesitantly, the taste of blood coating your tongue as you gnaw on the inside of your cheek, a nervous habit of yours.

"Are you sure you want to go back to your apartment alone?" His words hang heavy in the air, abundant with concern. He pauses, using the weight of his gaze to prob you for a response. "I saw some of those messages," he continues upon your silence, his voice gentle but firm. "If you need anything... I mean it, I can help you."

You interject sharply, a defensive edge creeping into your tone. "Please, don't get involved. I'm sorry you saw that, but he's harmless, I swear." Doubt snakes its way down your spine as you utter the words, his past violent outbursts echoing in your brain. The phantom memory of dark bruises left behind from the hard grip of his hands on your skin.

Grabbing, pulling, pushing you.

You fight your facial expression to seem happier, trying to reassure him that everything was alright despite the dread pulling down at your faux smile.

His car rolled to a gradual halt in front of your apartment building as the contents of your stomach threatened to come out of your throat in the form of vomit. You avert your gaze, but you can feel his eyes on you, silently pleading for a change of heart.

"Thank you, Steven," you say quietly, drawing in a sharp breath. "I don't know how I would've managed without you."

You muster a grateful smile, reeling yourself in as you gather your things from the car floor and step out. He breaks the silence by clearing his throat, causing you to pause and lean back into the open door to meet his gaze. Rain hits the clothing on your back.

"I can be there for you whenever," he says earnestly, “Please, don't hesitate to call me if you need me for anything, truly." He extends his hand, offering a taxi business card with his phone number written on it.

—

London Premium Taxi Service

Lockley, Jake

+44 20 1234 5679

—

Your eyebrows knit together at the unfamiliar name on the business card, but with rain still trickling down your clothing, the question fades from your thoughts. "Thank you again, Steven," you murmur, finally closing the cabbie door.

You walk hurriedly out of the rain and into your building, watching the cabbie car drive off as you make it inside. It felt worse to watch your reassurance of safety leaving. With a deep sigh, you enter the arriving elevator and watch as it ascends to your floor. A sense of unease nips at your resolve.

As the doors slide open with a soft hiss, your heart lurches in terror at the sight of him down the hall. A tall man standing outside your apartment door.

Him.

Shock freezes you in place, your breath catching as you lock eyes with your ex-boyfriend. “Oliver?”

“Y/N,” he proclaims breathlessly, his eyes widening with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. As you cautiously step closer, you can see a strange look to his pupils, as if under the influence of some kind of drug.

He speaks again, reaching out toward you. “I’ve missed you so much.”

You instinctively pull your arm away from him, but as quickly as you do, he grabs it again with greater force. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, trying to steady your trembling nerves. “Why are you here?” A crack in your voice gives your weakness away.

"I just said I missed you, babe," he replies, his tone muddied with false concern. "You're all wet. Let's get inside and get you into something warm."

Your mind races, but every idea that comes to you gets jumbled. You never could properly articulate your thoughts around him. Today was no different. This was your fault, you should have hid yourself better.

You summon the last shreds of your resolve. “I don’t need your help, Oliver,” you manage to say, but your tone is not as firm as you wanted it to be. “Please, just leave.”

His lip curl upward as he tightens his grip on your arm. You suck in a breath, watching his as he slowly moves his free hand to your face. A stand your hair gets pushed back by his fingers, gently yet his fingers forcefully press into the skin of your face. “I won’t ask again,” he whispers.

You comply, digging your apartment key out of your work tote and hand it to him, your apology tumbling off your lips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” you say shakily, trying to placate him.

“Good girl,” he says, taking the key from your trembling hands. And with a sense of dread pooling in the pit of your stomach, you watch as he unlocks your door with ease. The sound of the latch and the creak of the opening door echo in your ears. “Let’s go inside, love.”

As his hand releases your arm and slides down your waist to the small of your back, a shiver runs down your spine at the touch. With a guiding push, he leads you inside, the door closing with a soft click behind the two of you.

Oliver strides into the kitchen with an air of familiarity, his movements purposeful as he rummages through the cabinets and refrigerator for food. "Make yourself comfortable, love," he calls out, carrying a hint of authority as he commands the space.

You take a hesitant seat on your couch, the weight of his presence looming over you like a dark cloud. With trembling hands, you slip off your shoes, but in that moment, you think of what to do.

“Thank you, my love,” you force, “I’m going to go to the bathroom first, okay?”

He nods his head silently, gripping a bottle of wine as he pours himself a glass.

Walking into the bathroom, you close the door behind you with a shaky breath. You flick the business card between your fingers nervously as you dial Steven's number. Your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for him to pick up.

A gruff voice comes through the phone. “London’s Premium Taxi Service, how may I help you today?”

"Steven, is that you? It’s me, Y/N," you whisper urgently, the words tumbling from your lips in a frantic rush. "My ex-boyfriend is inside my apartment, he may be high on something, I’m not sure. I don’t want to get the police involved again, what do I do?”

A screech of tires pierces through the phone line. “Where are you in your flat right now? W—what floor is it on?” Steven stammers, his concern noticeable even through the phone.

You hear the unmistakable crash of a dish breaking outside of the bathroom in your kitchen, sending your heart racing in panic. “I live in 3D. I’m in the bathroom right now,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Stay there and keep the door locked, do not come out no matter what, okay? I’ll be right there to go get you,” Steven’s voice serves as a lifeline for a brief moment before the call ends abruptly. Tears begin to spill as you choke back your sobs.

You hear footsteps from outside the bathroom door. “Y/N! Come clean this fucking mess up,” Oliver’s voice permeates through the door, sending you into a quiet spiral as your hand drags over your lips to keep them shut.

“Y/N?”

“Y/N. Fucking answer me, open this door. What the fuck are you doing in there?” A pounding knock hits the door as it rattles against its frame.

“Open the door!” The sound of his shouting muffles in your brain and you slip into a panic attack, air refusing to saturate your lungs. The door shakes with every hard pound and pull of the door knob.

With a final slam, the door comes off its hinges as Oliver forces his way inside the bathroom. Your body trembles with sobs as you beg him for forgiveness, but his heavy hands fall on you anyway.

The force of his backhand sends you tumbling to the floor, the impact echoing through the small confines of the bathroom. In your haze, you’re unable to comprehend the words he shouts at you. The world blurs around you as his blows to your body continue. Your eyes flutter, the world spinning dizzily around you as he beats you with a savage force.

Until it stops. You take several moments to collect yourself, regaining your strength to be able to open your eyes. Two voices echo in the walls of your apartment as the ringing stops and your hearing slowly returns. A loud thud shakes the floorboards, followed by footsteps towards you.

“Y/N?” says a sweet voice, unrecognizable to you. “I should have gotten here faster, I’m so sorry.”

A gentle hand caresses your face as you try to open your eyes. Steven’s worried face comes into view, the coworker you’ve grown a liking to over the past few weeks. His phone is pressed against his ear and he speaks urgently into it.

“Steven?” you whisper, the words barely above a breath. In your daze, perhaps you had been delusional, mistaking his British accent for an unrecognizably coarse American one.

“I’m right here,” he exclaimed softly, caressing your hair. “I’m on the phone, an ambulance is on its way.”

As sirens soon begin to wail in the distance, piercing through the thin walls of the building, you find comfort in Steven’s gentle touches. You know that you’ll be okay.

#moon knight #marc spector #marvel fic #marvel #steven grant #oscar isaac #oscar issac characters #moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #fanfiction

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