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thef1diary · 4 months ago

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One Last Night | G. Russell

Summary: As you finalize your divorce from George, he convinces you to spend one last night together in the home you once shared, leading to a night filled with intimacy and emotional complexity.

this one is for @chilling-seavey the sole reason why George is in the top 5 of my fav drivers, I hope you like this one 🤭

masterlist

warnings: 18+ smut, angst, unprotected sex, a bit of hand kink, choking, fingering, oral, lots of emotions

wc: 7.1k (I got a lil carried away with this one ngl)

The sun sets over the horizon, casting a warm, orange glow over the house you once called home. The day’s emotional exhaustion weighs heavily on you, the act of signing papers and exchanging awkward glances, finalizing the divorce that both of you knew was inevitable yet difficult to accept. You sit on the porch steps, wanting a breath of fresh air while your eyes lingered on the small garden you and George once tended with care. The flowers, once vibrant and full of life, now stand shriveled and faded, mirroring the love that once flourished between you has since withered away.

George’s voice breaks the silence, a gentle intrusion on your thoughts as he calls your name, his tone devoid of the pet names he once used. You lift your head to see him standing there, his face a blend of sorrow and nostalgia. He takes a step closer, before lowering himself to sit beside you, a few inches too far away.

The space between you feels like an insurmountable chasm, filled with all the words left unsaid, all the efforts that fell short, and the moments you can never get back.

He speaks again, his voice softer and if your heart didn’t already ache with the necessity of leaving him, it would’ve when he said your full name, emphasizing your maiden name. The sound of it, spoken by him, sends a shiver down your spine, a bittersweet reminder of the life you lived before becoming George’s wife, before dating him.

“It’s been a while since I called you by that name,” he murmurs, his bright blue eyes searching for yours with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the silence. You find yourself unable to resist, drawn into his gaze as if pulled by an invisible force. The familiarity of his eyes, the depth of longing ensnares you, like it always did.

“Yes, it has,” you reply, your voice a mere whisper, barely breaking through the hush of the evening. The weight of his words lingers in the air, filling the space between you with a poignant nostalgia that tugs at your heart. The simple utterance of your maiden name, once so familiar, now feels like a delicate thread connecting you to a past filled with both love and loss.

Even though there’s a physical distance between your bodies, your hands find each other, resting lightly on the porch. Slowly, your fingers inch closer, making a tentative connection that speaks volumes without words. The warmth of his skin, the familiar feel of his touch, sends a ripple of emotion through you, a vivid reminder of the intimacy you once shared.

You try to keep your thoughts clear, reminding yourself that you’re no longer his, no longer Mrs. Russell. The weight of that truth hangs heavy in the space between you, a stark contrast to the intimacy of your touch.

The tenderness in your fingers grazing his is a reflection of what you once had, but also of what has irrevocably changed. You feel the echo of old feelings stirring, the ones you had just begun to push down, but you hold onto the reality that this moment, this connection, is all that remains. The warmth that used to be a part of your everyday life now feels like a fleeting memory, a bittersweet echo of a love that has transformed into a shared, yet separate, past.

“So, what’s next for you?” he asks, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and sadness, a reflection of the weight of letting you go from his life. The question hangs in the air, imbued with a sense of finality and the unspoken acknowledgment that this might be one of the last times he will ask about your future. A future that you’ll be spending without him.

“I’ve decided to finally open that bakery I’ve always dreamed of. It’s something new to look forward to.”

His eyes lit up with a hint of the old George you remember, a small smile playing on his lips. “Will I get any special treatment whenever I visit?”

You shake your head, the smile fading slightly as reality intrudes. “You probably won’t have time to stop by with your busy schedule.”

An awkward silence descends, punctuated by the weight of unfulfilled promises and unmet expectations. The stillness is heavy with the echoes of unspoken regrets and the haunting reminder of what could have been. The conversation stirs a whirlwind of memories, each one a testament to how, over time, George’s career began to overshadow your relationship.

The subtle shift began with small, seemingly insignificant changes—dinner dates frequently postponed, weekend getaways cancelled, and conversations that once flowed effortlessly now reduced to hurried exchanges. His passion for racing, which you once admired and supported, gradually turned into an all-consuming force that claimed more of his time and energy. The promise he made to never let his work come between you gradually eroded, like a fading echo in the vast expanse of his ambition.

You initially accepted the demands of his career, understanding that racing was his first love and the source of his greatest fulfillment. You saw it as an inevitable part of his life, one that you could accommodate as long as it didn’t overshadow your shared moments. But as the months passed, the imbalance became increasingly unbearable. The distance grew, not just in physical terms but in emotional connection. The shared dreams and future plans you once held close began to dissolve, replaced by a solitary sense of longing and disappointment.

Each missed milestone, each neglected promise, built a wall of isolation between you. What started as an occasional inconvenience became a persistent source of heartache. The intimacy you once shared, the spontaneous affection and deep conversations, gave way to a routine marked by George’s relentless pursuit of success. The career that once bound you together now stood as a formidable barrier, leaving you feeling like a secondary consideration in the grand scheme of his ambitions.

You don’t allow your thoughts to linger on the past for too long, on wondering what could’ve been if you both put in a little more effort instead of watching it play out like a movie

You break the silence, your voice trembling slightly as you ask, “and what about you? What’s next for you?”

George’s gaze drifts to the horizon, as though the future is mapped out in the darkness of the night. “I’ll be back on the track as usual. Flying out next week, you know how it goes. It’s a busy schedule but it’s what I do.”

His words are matter-of-fact, yet there’s an undercurrent of melancholy in his tone. He turns his eyes back to you, a flicker of something almost wistful crossing his face. “I’ll miss having you there,” he adds quietly. “Your support, your presence—it made a difference. I always looked forward to seeing you in the stands.”

The sincerity in his voice tugs at something deep inside you. You nod, forcing a smile. “I’m sure the races will be just as thrilling without me. You’ll have plenty of fans cheering you on.”

He smiles faintly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s not the same,” he says softly. “There was always something special about having you there, cheering me on. I’m going to miss that.”

The honesty in his confession stirs a pang of regret within you. You both know that his career, while a source of pride, has become the very thing that separated you.

George sighs, his thumb brushing lightly against your fingers, reminding you that his hand never left yours. “I never wanted it to end like this,” he said, his voice filled with regret. “In fact, I never wanted it to end at all.”

He clears his throat, the raw emotion evident in his next words. “I thought I could balance everything—my career and us—but I failed. I’m sorry for making you feel like you were never enough. The truth is, you were and still are everything to me.”

Tears prick at your eyes, threatening to spill over, but you blink them away with a deliberate effort. Drawing a deep breath, you muster the strength to respond. “It’s not entirely your fault, you know,” you say softly, your voice quivering with the weight of your emotions.

“You don’t need to apologize. I suppose I should apologize for intruding on your well-laid plans. You always wanted a world championship under your belt, and I genuinely hope you achieve that soon, without having to worry about me.”

As he begins to shake his head in protest, you turn away, pulling your hand gently from his grasp before standing up. “I should’ve realized sooner that your trophies would always hold a higher place in your life than I ever could.”

You made the mistake of glancing at him after your words, and saw him visibly flinch, the impact of your parting words etched clearly on your face. The pain in his expression mirrored the ache in your heart, a stark reminder of the mutual suffering this conversation had caused. The intensity of the moment made it clear that any further discussion would only deepen the emotional wounds.

Deciding to end it there and spare both of you more heartache, you turned away and headed towards the porch steps. You had already planned your leave with a sense of reluctant resolve: you would spend the night at a nearby hotel before flying out the following morning to stay with your sister, seeking comfort and a fresh start in her home.

As you begin to walk down the steps, George’s voice reaches out to you, filled with a mix of urgency and regret. “Where are you going? You’re supposed to leave tomorrow, please, stay here for just one more night.”

You pause, the sincerity in his voice making you hesitate. Turning back, you see the raw vulnerability in his eyes, and something in you shifts. The weight of your decision presses heavily on your chest.

George steps closer, his face pleading as he gently cups your cheeks in his hands. “I want to make it up to you,” he says softly. “I know I should’ve valued you more, I could’ve balanced my life better, I would’ve done everything to keep us together if I’d realized sooner.”

You feel the weight of his words, the sincerity evident in every syllable. You placed your hand atop of his, and for a brief moment, he braces himself for you to push him away. Instead, you simply hold on, a gesture that speaks of the lingering affection between you.

“Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve,” you repeat softly. “It’s too late to blame our past selves for the consequences we face now.”

“Please, stay,” George’s voice trembles, his eyes pleading as he grapples with the reality of your departure, even though the papers are signed and the decision is final.

The raw emotion in his eyes, the vulnerability of his plea, makes your resolve waver. With a sigh, you nod slowly, feeling the tight noose around your heart loosen, giving it a chance to beat. “Alright,” you agree softly. “I’ll stay for one more night.”

In an instant, you close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him. You cling to him tightly, the familiar warmth of his embrace bringing a flood of bittersweet memories. Despite everything, despite knowing that the circumstances could never change, the love you still feel for him is undeniable.

George holds you just as tightly, burying his face in your hair. “Thank you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for giving me this one last chance.”

You stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the silence speak for the love and regrets that words can’t fully capture. For tonight, you can forget the world outside, the signed papers, and the impending separation. For tonight, it’s just you and him, holding on to the remnants of what once was.

George leads you back into the house, his hand warm and steady in yours. Inside, a calm, almost sacred stillness envelops you both. You hadn’t known what to expect, but this quiet comfort is a relief. As you step further in, your eyes fall on the photo frames carefully placed around the room. Each one tells a story of you and George, moments frozen in time, even a few from your wedding day, radiant and full of promise.

Your breath hitches as a thought crosses your mind, a pang of uncertainty mingling with nostalgia. You wonder how soon George will clean up, scrubbing away the memories of your relationship. Part of you knows he still loves you and wouldn’t simply discard them. Yet, you also know the ache these images must bring, a constant reminder of what was and what could have been.

You don’t ask him. The question lingers unspoken between you, too heavy to voice. You can’t bear to hear his answer, whether he’ll keep them or not. It’s easier to pretend, to let the silence hold the unknown.

He glances at you, his eyes following your gaze to the photos. The sadness in his expression mirrors your own thoughts, a silent understanding passing between you.

“Would you like some tea?” he asks, his voice gentle, pulling you back from your reverie.

“That sounds nice,” you reply softly, following him into the kitchen.

The initial awkwardness lingers as you move around each other, carefully choosing your words, mindful of the delicate peace. But as you start to talk about random things, the tension begins to ease. George makes a conscious effort to avoid mentioning racing, and you appreciate it, finding solace in the mundane topics that once filled your conversations.

As hunger sets in, you decide to cook dinner together. In the kitchen, it’s like clockwork. You move around each other with ease, falling back into old routines.

George chops vegetables while you stir a pot on the stove, the familiar rhythm soothing your frayed nerves. You pass utensils and ingredients back and forth without a second thought, your movements synchronized like a well-rehearsed dance.

“Can you hand me the garlic?” George asks, glancing up at you with a familiar warmth in his eyes.

“Sure,” you say, passing it to him. Your fingers brush, sending a jolt of electricity through you. You catch his eye, and for a moment, the tension is palpable.

As you continue preparing dinner, the air thickens with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. The scent of sautéing garlic fills the room, mingling with the warmth of your shared history.

At one point, you reach for a spice jar on a high shelf. George steps in behind you, his body just inches taller than yours. He places his hands gently on your waist, his fingers barely grazing the bare skin beneath the hem of your shirt, steadying you as you stretch to grab the jar.

You open your mouth to question the unexpected intimacy, but before you can speak, he steps away, his touch lingering like a ghost. He moves to another task, his presence still wrapped around you even though he’s no longer at your side.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart, and continue cooking. The moments of contact are electric, charged with the sexual tension that neither of you dares to act on yet. The unspoken connection between you simmers, waiting to boil over.

As you both move through the kitchen, old jokes and new stories begin to flow. The dinner preparations become an unexpected dance of nostalgia and bittersweet reality, each touch and glance filled with meaning.

As you and George finish cooking, the comforting aroma of the meal fills the kitchen. Together, you set the table, your movements in perfect harmony.

Though you sit across from each other, the table is small enough that if either of you were to stretch your legs, you’d touch. That closeness adds a layer of anticipation, your legs brushing occasionally as you both take your first bites. The flavours are rich and familiar, but the food is secondary to the charged atmosphere around you.

“Remember the first time we tried making this?” George says, his smile tinged with nostalgia.

You laugh softly, nodding. “How could I forget? We nearly burned the kitchen down.”

He chuckles, the sound warm and comforting. “I think we’ve improved since then.”

As you share this moment, you can’t help but graze his leg with your foot under the table, a fleeting touch that sends a thrill through you. George’s eyes flicker with something deeper, a response to the subtle contact. He reached across the table, taking your hand in his, the warmth of his touch grounding you. His thumb gently strokes your knuckles, and the simple act feels intimate, rekindling the connection you thought you had lost.

As he holds your hand, you’re acutely aware of the difference in size. His hand, though not drastically larger, envelopes yours with a comforting presence. You watch as his slender fingers wrap around yours, their familiar warmth a stark reminder of the countless times they explored every inch of your body—especially around your neck, constricting your airway, or on your thighs, gripping tightly as he held them spread open.

George brings your entwined hands to his lips, pressing a tender kiss on the back of your hand, letting his lips linger on your skin for a few moments too long.

A playful impulse overtakes you. You let your foot drift up from the floor, lightly tracing its way up his leg. The touch is feather-light, a teasing caress that sends a thrill through both of you. Your foot slides slowly up his calf, over his knee, and eventually finds its way to his thigh, lingering there.

George’s breath catches, and you feel the tension in his body tighten as his grasp on your palm loosens. His gaze locks with yours, a mixture of surprise and desire flickering in his eyes. You keep your foot gently resting on his thigh, savouring the intimacy of the contact, watching his expression shift from playful to deeply affected.

He mutters your name, “what are you doing?”

Your eyes twinkle with mischief as you shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

George raises his eyebrows, a sly smile painting on his lips as he decides to play your game. “Oh really?”

You maintain your playful facade, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Really,” you reply, trying to keep your tone innocent despite the heat building between you.

George’s hand slips from yours, moving with deliberate slowness to rest on your leg, his fingers lightly brushing against your ankle, pressing it deeper against his thigh.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “And here I thought you wanted me to be a gentleman tonight,” he murmurs, his voice a sultry whisper that makes your pulse quicken.

Without breaking eye contact, you let your foot inch higher, sliding it delicately between his thighs. It comes to rest over the zipper of his jeans, the contact making you both shiver. His reaction is immediate—his breath catches, and he whispers your name, the sound slipping from his lips with a sinful sweetness that sends a wave of heat through you.

“You thought wrong,” you reply swiftly, a sultry smirk playing on your lips.

George’s breath hitches at your words, a shiver running through his body as you maintain your foot’s gentle pressure, knowing you can feel his hardening cock straining against the denim.

He extends a hand towards you, his fingers curling in a beckoning motion, deliberately mimicking the way he would caress you in more intimate moments. The gesture sends a shiver down your spine, making your breath catch, and instinctively clench your thighs, fighting to control the rush of sensations.

“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice husky and insistent.

You can’t resist the command, the raw magnetism of his presence pulling you towards him. You stand up slowly, the chair scraping softly against the floor as you move. George’s eyes follow your every motion, his piercing eyes remaining on you as you near him.

As you stand between his legs, he pushes his chair back slightly, creating space needed for you to be close. He reaches out, his hands grasping your hips gently but firmly, drawing you nearer. His hands slide up your sides, a touch both tender and possessive, as he gazes up at you with a look that promises more.

He’s quick to pull you on his lap, earning a gasp from your parted lips. George’s grip tightens around your waist, his touch a mix of possessiveness and tenderness. He pulls you closer, his body pressed against yours, and you can feel the fierce need in his actions.

“You have no idea what you’ve started,” he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “No matter what papers we’ve signed, you’re still mine tonight.”

“This,” his fingers hold your left hand, grazing his thumb over the ring still adorned on your finger, “stays on. Just for tonight.”

You close your eyes, letting the weight of his words sink in. The reality of your separation fades into the background as you allow yourself to sink into the fantasy of being his again, if only for a few hours. His touch is intoxicating, a heady blend of past affection and present desire. You give in to the moment, your body responding to his with a familiarity that is both thrilling and deeply comforting.

George’s lips trace a burning path down your neck, leaving kisses that deepen into marks. His lips press against your skin with an almost reverent touch, a dark bruise forming beneath his kisses, a parting gift of sorts that will serve as a reminder of what you shared tonight. He smiles against your skin, satisfied with the mark he’s left, knowing it would evoke memories of tonight whenever you see it over the next few days.

His kisses drift lower, his hand subtly pulling your shirt lower, exposing more of your bare skin to his hungry lips. The heat of this touch, and the slow, deliberate exploration of your body made you shiver, your head tilting back instinctively as you gasp his name. Your hips shift, seeking the friction you crave, driven by the intense need building between your legs.

When George finally pulls back, he chuckles softly as the whimper that escapes your lips. “Look at you,” he murmurs with a teasing edge to his tone. “So desperate already.”

He shifts slightly, his hands sliding up your sides to cradle your face. The tender yet firm grip draws you closer, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. Suddenly, you feel a moment of hesitation, a thought flitting through your mind about the intimacy of kissing him. You almost speak, wanting to tell him that perhaps this was too much, too close for a night meant to be a parting. But the look in his eyes, the sheer depth of his need, pulls you in, rendering you speechless.

In a heartbeat, his lips meet yours, and you lose yourself in the kiss. It’s a fierce, consuming connection, full of all the love and desire that has simmered between you for so long.

As you kiss him, you’re painfully aware that your actions now will likely lead to regret and heartache for your future self. But in this moment, you’re allowing yourself to enjoy the intimacy and closeness, even as you recognize that tomorrow’s pain is a consequence of tonight’s decisions. You surrender to the moment, letting it erase the boundaries the divorce created, allowing yourself to be his once more, just for a few more hours.

His tongue slips in between your lips, teasing and caressing with a gentle insistence that makes your knees weak.

Your hand lingers on his chest, fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt, a silent plea for him to remove it. But he’s so absorbed in your kisses that he barely notices. You pull back just enough to murmur against his lips. “Mm, take your shirt off, baby.”

With a low, breathy chuckle, he pulls away just enough to slip his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. As his bare chest comes into view, you can’t help but trace your fingers over his skin, the muscles beneath your fingertips tensing with every caress.

Before you can place your lips on his skin, his hand gently rests against your throat, holding you back with just enough pressure to make you pause. “Your turn, sweetheart,” he commands.

The return of the pet name makes a blush creep up your cheek. With a slight nod, you move back, your hands reaching for the hem of your shirt. Your eyes stay locked on his as you slowly pull the fabric up and over your head, letting it slip from your fingers and fall to the floor.

George’s gaze roams over you, drinking in the sight of your exposed torso. He pulls you back towards him, his hands sliding up your sides, tracing the curves of your body with utmost care.

He leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to the hollow of your throat, the spot where his hand had just been. The warmth of his lips sends shivers through your body, and you feel a surge of anticipation. As he kisses your skin, his hands move with practiced ease to the clasp of your bra. In one fluid motion, he undoes it, and the flimsy material falls away, landing softly in your lap, leaving your upper body fully exposed to him.

George pulls back slightly, his gaze roaming over you with unabashed desire. His eyes darken as they take in the sight of you, the soft glow of the kitchen light casting a warm hue on your skin. He reaches up, his fingers tracing the curve of your collarbone, down to the swell of your breasts, his touch light but electric.

“You’re perfect,” he breathes, his voice thick with admiration and lust. The words send a rush of warmth through you, making you feel both cherished and desired.

His lips return to your body, this time trailing down from your throat, licking each darkening mark he left earlier, to your collarbone, then lower. Each kiss is slow and deliberate, as if he’s savouring the moment, etching each inch of your body into his mind. When his mouth reaches the sensitive skin of your breast, his tongue flicks out to tease, eliciting a soft moan from you. He takes his time, worshiping you with his lips and tongue, making you arch into his touch, seeking more.

Your hands find their way to his broad shoulders, gripping him tightly as the pleasure builds. George’s fingers dance across your skin, exploring every inch exposed to him, while his mouth continues its maddeningly slow descent. He pauses to take one nipple in his mouth, sucking gently before grazing his teeth lightly, as his other hand kneads your other breast. The dual sensations make you gasp, your head falling back in pleasure.

As he continues to lavish attention on your chest, you feel the heat pooling in your core, your body responding to his every touch. You grind against him, seeking friction, feeling the hardness of his cock, still strained underneath his jeans.

George lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours, filled with a mix of tenderness and hunger. “I want you,” he whispers.

You nod, breathless and needy. “I’m yours,” you reply, “just for tonight, I’m yours.”

Without another word, George lifts you effortlessly, his hands strong and sure as they grip your waist. You wrap your legs around his torso, feeling the heat of his body against yours as he carries you upstairs. He pushes the bedroom door open with his shoulder, his lips finding yours again in a hungry kiss.

George sets you down gently in the middle of the bed, placing a tender kiss on your lips before moving down your body as you lie back. His touch is both reverent and teasing, his fingers trailing down your skin, igniting a trail of fire in their wake. He stops at your breasts, giving each nipple the attention it craves. He circles his thumb around the peak, teasing you, before pinching the bud sharply between his fingers, earning a needy whine from your lips. He envelops your nipple in the heat of his mouth, easing the sting with a filthy, wet kiss, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. Moving away, he repeats his actions on your other nipple, each touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

George continues his journey down your body, his lips leaving a trail of kisses and love bites, sucking as many marks as he wishes. Each bruise is a reminder of his presence, a mark of possession that makes your core throb with desire. He reaches the hem of your pants and glances up at you, his eyes widening when he realizes you are already watching him, your gaze intense as he drives you to the brink of madness.

“Please, George,” you mutter, your voice already raw from the moans you’ve let out. The plea is filled with desperation and need, your body aching for more of his touch.

He slides his fingers below the waistband of your pants, his touch electrifying. You lift your hips to help him remove the fabric, making it easier for him to pull your pants away from your body. He parts your thighs, settling himself on his knees between them. His eyes glaze over with desire as he takes in the sight of your soaked panties. You might have felt embarrassed by how wet you are, but the way his eyes darken with hunger reassures you. He licks his lips, his gaze never leaving your covered pussy.

He reluctantly shifts his gaze to meet your eyes again. “You’re dripping, love. Glad to know I still have that effect on you,” he states, dragging his thumb over your cunt, causing you to instinctively push your hips up, but it’s no avail as he moves his hand away, leaving you aching for more.

You roll your eyes at his words. “You always have that effect on me, don’t act like you didn’t know that.”

He chuckles, sitting back on his haunches, bringing his thumb up to his lips. Your mouth drops open as he licks your wetness off his thumb, humming delightfully at the taste.

“Ah, mouthy now?” He shook his head in faux disappointment. “By the time I’m done with you, the only word you’ll speak is my name.” He leans over you, pressing a kiss to your cheek before properly settling between your parted thighs, his face near your covered cunt.

With a sudden rough motion, he grabs your panties and rips them off, the fabric tearing easily in his hand. The sheer force of it sends a thrill through you, a gasp leaving your mouth as you mutter his name.

He tosses the shredded material aside, gaze remaining between your legs. “There’s my pretty cunt,” he mumbles, his voice low and filled with desire. He barely sticks the tip of his tongue out as he notices the glint of your wetness coating your folds.

You clench involuntarily at his words, not going unnoticed by him. He glances at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah? It’s mine isn’t it?” His voice is a seductive whisper, egging you on, as he watches your reaction.

You nod, a whine escaping your lips as you meet his gaze. “Yes, it’s yours,” you admit, the truth of your words resonating in the heated space between you.

George’s smirk deepens, satisfaction evident in his eyes. “Good girl,” he praises, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

He dips his head, his tongue finally making contact with your pussy. The sensation is electric, your back arching instinctively as your hips lift from the bed. His hands press you back against the mattress, splayed wide on your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin to hold you spread open.

His tongue flicks and circles your clit, driving you wild with need. George takes his time, savouring every moment as he gathers your wetness with his tongue, moaning against your cunt, the vibrations adding to your pleasure.

Your hand finds its way into his hair, tangling in the soft strands as you hold him close. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, your body arching into his touch as he brings you closer and closer to release.

George’s eyes flick up to meet yours, the intensity in his eyes sending another wave of pleasure through you. He moves one hand from your thigh to your cunt, collecting the slick between your folds. He coats his finger before sliding it inside you, the sensation making you gasp.

One finger quickly turns into two, pumping them in and out of you, matching the rhythm of his tongue. His fingers, long and skilled, find that perfect spot inside you, making you see stars. The pleasure builds rapidly, each thrust and lick driving you closer to the edge.

When he adds a third finger, your body reacts instantly, a cry escaping your lips. “George,” you moan, barely able to utter a warning before your orgasm crashes over you. Wave after wave of pleasure washes through your body, your muscles clenching around his fingers. You call out his name, your body trembling as he continues to work you through your climax, his relentless tongue and fingers not stopping until you’re completely spent.

He finally eases his fingers out of you, his mouth trailing kisses up your body, tasting the sheen of sweat on your skin. He reaches your lips, pressing a gentle kiss there, tasting yourself on his mouth.

You’re breathless, your body still tingling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. “I want you,” you manage to whisper, your voice hoarse from the intensity.

George’s eyes darken with desire, his own breath coming in shallow gasps. “I want you too,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. He leans back, quickly shedding the rest of his clothes, the sight of his naked body stirring a fresh wave of arousal within you.

George leans over you, positioning himself between your legs once more, but this time his hardened cock nudges your pussy. Sliding it between your folds, he slicks up his length with your cum, nudging your clit a few times with the tip, each touch sending jolts of pleasure through you.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Please, George,” you plead, your voice breathless with desire. “Stop teasing me.”

With a deep groan, George finally slides into you, filling you completely. He pauses for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the sensation, then almost pulls out before thrusting back in, taking your breath away. The sensation is overwhelming, your bodies perfectly in sync as he sets a brutal pace. Each thrust is powerful and deliberate, hitting the perfect spot inside you.

The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you intimately connected, lost in the moment. The room is filled with obscene sounds—gasps, moans, the slick sound of skin slapping against skin. Every thrust sends waves of pleasure through your body, each movement driving you closer to the edge.

George’s movements become more urgent, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he loses himself in the heat of your cunt enveloping him over and over. “You feel so good,” he mutters, his voice strained with desire and pleasure.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving marks as you cling to him. Your only response is a moan, your voice filled with raw need. The pleasure builds rapidly in your core, your body tightening around him, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

George brings his fingers to your lips. “Open,” he commands, his voice deep, his accent more prominent. You obey him, sticking your tongue out and taking his fingers into your mouth, sucking on them and muffling your moans.

His fingers, now slick with your spit, leave your mouth and travel to your clit. He pinches it between his fingers, then begins rubbing tight circles, the added stimulation making your body tremble. His other hand finds its way to your throat, applying just enough pressure to restrict a bit of oxygen entering your body. The combination of sensations makes you clench down on him, your body responding to every touch, every thrust.

George’s thrusts become even more frenzied, his grip on your throat tightening slightly. The pleasure is overwhelming, your body on a brink of another release so soon. His fingers on your clit, his hand on your throat, his cock filling you completely—it’s all too much.

“Cum for me,” he demands, his voice rough. “Cum for me, love.”

The command sends you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you. You cry out his name, your body trembling as you cling to him, your nails digging into his skin.

George follows you over the edge, a deep groan escaping his lips as he reaches his own release. His thrusts slow down as he fills you with his cum, his body shuddering.

Pulling out, he collapses on top of you, his body spent but his arms wrap around you, holding you close. Your breaths are ragged, your bodies covered in a sheen of sweat but you stay entwined, savouring the closeness and intimacy of the moment.

After a few moments, George lifts himself off you, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. He leaves the bed and returns with a warm damp cloth, carefully cleaning you up. His touch is soft and soothing, a stark contrast to the raw intensity you just shared.

As you lie there, your eyes drift to the clock, noting the time with a heavy heart. Only a few hours remain before sunrise. Though you keep your thoughts to yourself, a mental countdown begins, marking each fleeting minute as the fantasy edges closer to its inevitable end. For now, you push those thoughts aside, unwilling to let them intrude upon the closeness you’ve been granted.

George settles back into bed, drawing you into his embrace. His body is warm and reassuring, and he holds you close, as if trying to anchor you both in this fragile moment. His fingers gently stroke your hair, and his murmured words are soft, a soothing balm against the emotional rawness you both feel.

In his arms, you allow yourself to savor the love and tenderness that had been absent from your relationship, even though you know it comes too late. You stroke his cheek with your thumb, pulling him in for a kiss that’s slow and filled with an aching sadness. This kiss is not driven by the fiery passion of earlier but is instead a testament to the longing and melancholy that now defines your connection.

George tries to change the pace, his hands cupping your face as if to draw you back into a passionate kiss, but you resist, determined to let this moment linger. Each touch, each kiss, is a memory you wish to imprint deeply into your mind, a final, bittersweet echo of what might have been.

When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his, eyes closed as if to shield yourself from the inevitable morning. The silence between you feels dense and heavy, like quicksand pulling you both deeper into an emotional mire. It’s a silence that speaks volumes, a quiet weight that settles heavily on your hearts.

His voice breaks through the silence, soft yet resolute. “I love you,” he murmurs, the words wrapped in a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

You take a shaky breath, feeling the sting of tears behind your eyelids. “I’ll always love you too,” you reply, your voice barely more than a whisper, yet filled with a depth of emotion that words alone can scarcely capture.

In that fleeting, fragile moment, you hold onto each other, letting the intimacy of your shared silence and the echo of your promises wrap around you like a bittersweet embrace. The world outside begins to stir, but within this cocoon of quiet, time seems to stand still, allowing you both to savor the final fragments of a love that was beautiful but not enough.

As the first light of dawn begins to creep through the curtains, a soft glow starts to illuminate the room. George remains close, his breathing steady and calm as he sleeps beside you, but you lie awake, your mind awash with the bittersweetness of the night.

The silence is no longer just a weight; it’s a space where every unsaid word and unresolved feeling seems to echo. You trace patterns on his chest with your fingers, savoring the warmth and the closeness while feeling the sting of impending farewell.

The morning light casts gentle shadows across the room, highlighting the contrast between the intense passion of the night and the tender, almost fragile peace of the morning. You take in the sight of George, his features softened in sleep, a small, wistful smile playing on his lips. It’s a reminder of the affection you’ve longed for, now tinged with the realization of its fleeting nature.

You let your gaze linger on him, the hurt and longing swirling within you. The memory of his touch and his kisses will linger, a beautiful ache that will accompany you as you face the day ahead. Each moment shared is a precious token to be cherished, even as you prepare to confront the reality of your separation.

Gently, you begin to disentangle yourself from his embrace, careful not to disturb him. The softness of the bed and the warmth of his body seem to hold you in a tender cocoon, but you rise, moving with a quiet grace. You dress in the dim light, each movement a silent farewell to the night that has just passed.

With one last look at George, you take a deep breath, trying to memorize the calm of his sleeping face, the last remnant of the passion and intimacy you’ve shared. You leave the room, stepping into the dawn, where the world is awakening and the day is ready to begin.

The fantasy of the night dissolves into the morning’s reality, but the memory of his touch and the echoes of his love will remain with you, a haunting yet beautiful reminder of what once was.

Taglist: @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @namjoonswaifu @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @mehrmonga @wobblymug @bokutos-babyowl @chilling-seavey

#thef1diary fic #george russell fanfic #george russell smut #george russell x reader #george russell fic #george russell angst #f1 one shot #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 angst #angst #smut #fanfic

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starry-nights-garden · 1 year ago

Text

Ateez Reaction ✧ When they weren't your first bias

✧ Ateez all members x gn!reader ✧ genre: fluff, humor ✧ warnings: none

Hongjoong:

the nr 1 overly attached jealous bf in front of atiny so obviously he has to play his part when he finds out that you originally biased Seonghwa

makes you wish he had never found out tbh jdbdjxjjd

but you just can't deny it when he finds your old stash of Seonghwa photocards

"I'm not upset, it's fine. People's tastes can change." - says that while sounding VERY upset

will leave it at that for now but will get a giggle out of reminding you of this in the most unexpected moments

gives you a gift that you don't react to super enthusiastically: "Well, it doesn’t have Seonghwa’s face on it, so I get that you don't like it."

you don't hug him back once because you're distracted by something else: "Well, I'm not Seonghwa, so I get it."

you don’t pick up his call because you weren’t looking at your phone: “You’d have picked up if it was Seonghwa, right?”

will he ever stop? nobody knows

at this point you can’t even tell whether he’s just messing with you or if he’s actually still petty about it kasdjöfklas

Seonghwa:

his pride is definitely hurt when one day you mention to him that you used to be a Yeosang stan

“What do you mean? Like… I wasn’t your first bias?”

you try to brush it off by telling him people’s tastes change, it’s really not that deep

well, it is that deep to him kasdljföas

“Like… you liked someone else before me? It wasn’t love at first sight??”

turns out he always thought he was your first bias and now you just shattered his entire worldview ksdjfkal

needs to know exactly why you liked him, in as much detail as possible, so he can do better!!

thinks this is some kind of competition, even though your little celebrity crush on Yeosang is long over ksadjflkas

actually it’s quite charming and definitely entertaining to see him making such an effort, so you decide to watch for a while before starting another attempt at reassuring him that he’s just perfect the way he is in your eyes, and he can stop comparing himself with his team member now :’)

Yunho:

deliberately startles you by sneaking up to you from behind when he catches you watching a Mingi fancam

“Oh? What’s that?”

softly laughs at you when you instinctively hide your phone screen jasklfjösadk

but then you also scold him for surprising you like that

he’s quick to apologize and sits down next to you, already having figured out what’s going on

“Was your first bias Mingi?” - you can’t but admit to it

but Yunho just acknowledges it with a nod - he knows you like him best now and he doesn’t mind that you used to like someone else

“So your type are tall guys?” he questions and then laughs about it

yeah, this one’s just completely chill about it, really he sees no reason why he would be upset about something like this

Yeosang:

barely even reacts when you tell him that your first bias was Jongho

"Ah." - simply shrugs it off??

so you go on with your conversation which eventually drifts off to a different topic

you're thankful that he doesn't really mind or seem jealous

you'd go as far as to say you're glad you have such a mature boyfriend!!

... until you're about to walk away to go do something else and you hear him mutter something under his breath

"I'm much better than him anyway."

???

so you turn around and say "what" and he's fully ready to explain lol

"Well, first of all I'm more handsome than him. I'm also much nicer to you. Also I personally think I'm a better dancer."

gives you a full list of reasons why he’s better than him that sounds a little too much like he had prepared it in advance jcjdjxjx

San:

“Wow, Y/N, I expected better from you!!”

ngl you’re scared to death when you hear him yelling that from the other room, but once you find him holding up all your Wooyoung merch the tension leaves your body at once

obviously the first thing that comes to mind is asking him whether he’s jealous that you used to bias his best friend aksdjflkas

“I mean- You never even told me about this!!”

you try to calm him down by telling him it was just a phase, San is now your nr 1, etcetc, but he just won’t let it be

“No, I mean… how can you keep these when you’re dating me now…” his voice just gets smaller and smaller sakdfjlas

poor bby is actually upset about this, so you resort to the only thing you can imagine would work to calm him down

you take the merch away from him and give him a big hug, letting him rest his head against your shoulder

he pouts at you and makes you kiss him as reassurance, because he is obviously jealous, but also he would never admit that out loud laskdjfka

tries to act like nothing happened after getting all the cuddles he needs to feel better about it lol

Mingi:

it’s when you’re cleaning your apartment together that you stumble upon all of your Yunho merch and you immediately feel guilty about keeping it a secret from him

you figured he might be hurt over it, and though you were looking for a good time to tell him about it, that moment just never came

“Ah, right… I used to be Yunho biased actually…” you briefly explain and try to laugh it off

“Yeah, I knew about that.” - his unbothered reaction catches you off guard, so you ask if he’s not upset

“Why would I be upset? He’s my bias too!”

?????????

ends up looking through your collection with you and you swear he has heart eyes a few too many times aksdfjökas

so all’s well that ends well, right? wrong.

because several days later he will wake you up in the middle of the night and confess that maybe he is a little jealous after all…

needs you to reassure him that you’re nothing more than Yunho’s fan, and Mingi is the one you love the most now!!

Wooyoung:

"What do you mean, you liked Hongjoong??"

you can tell it never even crossed this guy's mind that you could've ever biased someone other than him lol

when it eventually finished sinking in and he stops perplexedly staring at you he just??? pats you on the back??

"Aaaaa, you did well choosing me over him!"

pats your head now??

"I'm actually much better than that guy, you know!!"

gives you a full on speech about how awesome he is and explains to you in detail how basically you'd be doomed if you dated Hongjoong lol

"I mean, he's a great guy! Don't get me wrong! But taking care of you? I mean, come on. You know you can always rely on me, but him??"

expects you to praise him and tell him he's right at the end of it

WILL complain if you don't do that, and the only way to console him is you stroking his ego a bit and lots of kisses :')

Jongho:

when one day you casually mention to him that you used to bias San, you can literally see his brain trying to process that fact

starts sulking???

acts like he's super upset and lowkey complains while just pouting about it

you know he's acting but what you don't know is whether he's just acting or if he's also a little upset (he's VERY upset)

he's also so so embarrassed that he's this upset about something so stupid, so obviously he has to do his utmost to confuse you so you wouldn’t notice his inner turmoil djbdbd

he'll eventually get over it, but the initial shock runs deep lol

will definitely tease you about it at some point or use it as a way to win an argument jdbdhhd

"Oh, would you have been upset about that if it was San too?"

and well, now you're angry, so he's quick to make it clear that he was just joking and will definitely make it up to you with a kiss

#ateez reactions #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #atz x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez fic #hongjoong fluff #seonghwa fluff #yunho fluff #yeosang fluff #san fluff #mingi fluff #wooyoung fluff #jongho fluff #reaction #fluff #humor

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moonstruckme · 7 months ago

Note

hi!! ngl i’ve never actually requested anything so im kinda nervous to do so but if it’s possible, do you think you could write something along the lines of eddie munson with like an anxious reader? maybe she has a panic attack and he’s there to help in the aftermath or just an overall anxious person. i know you’ve written something similar with the marauders so i hope that this is okay for me to request. i love love love ur writing!

Thank you for requesting lovely <3

cw: aftermath of panic attack

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 642 words

Eddie’s rambling hasn’t stopped since you sat down, but it’s become background noise for you, like ocean sounds or the music they play in grocery stores. You know well enough how to get yourself through this. His hand on your back is a steady, if somewhat frantic, reassurance.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, his rhythm slowing as you blow out a lungful of air, bending your head towards your knees. You hold up a weak thumbs-up, and it picks up again. “Shit, yeah, you’re okay, baby. You’ve got it.”

You feel bad that this is Eddie’s first time dealing with you like this, though it’s nice to be in his trailer and not at the mall or in a restaurant or something. His couch is familiarly uncomfortable, lumpy in places and nearly flat in others, and the air smells like weed and grease, the electric fan Wayne brings out for the summer months whirring diligently in the corner. You’re glad Wayne’s not home now, though someone should probably be around to comfort Eddie after he’s done comforting you.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks again. “You want some water or something?”

This time, you nod. Your boyfriend all but springs up from the couch, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and hustling it back to you like he’s training to be one of the NASCAR pit stop people. You take it from him, rubbing the condensation from the bottle on the back of your neck before taking a sip. The chill is grounding. You rest your head back on your knees.

“You feeling better, sweetheart?” Eddie grabs another water bottle from the fridge once he sees what you did with the first, holding it to your neck. “You seem better. Sounding less like Darth Vader.”

You laugh a little, and he laughs back nervously.

“Yeah,” you say, “it’s mostly better now.”

He blows out a breath. “Phew, okay. Jesus. You’re a fucking champ, you know that?”

“Thanks,” you chuckle. “Sorry I put you through that.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m not the one who went through something just now, so consider your apology heard and nullified.” Eddie’s lips come down on the back of your head. “I’d tell you where to shove it, but I’m feeling kind of bad for you right now. Count your blessings.”

“Oh, I’m counting them.” You smile down into the semi-dark valley between your legs and chest, taking one more deep breath in and out before lifting your head. “Okay, I’m good.”

“Yeah?” As he pulls back to see you, your boyfriend doesn��t look so sure. His eyebrows are pulled up in the middle, freakishly huge eyes full of freakishly sweet worry. “Good enough for a hug?”

You hum your assent, and in the next second you’re in his lap. Eddie goes all the way, curving his body over yours as his arms wrap protectively around your back and his cheek squishes into yours.

“It scares me when you’re scared,” he admits.

“Sorry.”

“No—goddamnit, what did we say about that? You’re lucky you’re cute, I swear—don’t be sorry. Obviously it’s not your fault, I’m just sorry that happened to you. It seemed really fucking shitty.”

“It felt really fucking shitty,” you agree. “I’m wiped.”

“Honestly? Me too.” Eddie chuckles. “Nap?”

“Yes, please,” you say, but wriggle closer to him, preventing him from getting up. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. He starts rubbing your back again, contemplative.

“You wanna sleep here, or on the bed?”

“Bed,” you answer immediately.

“...right. But are you gonna get up and go to the bed?”

You make a thoughtful humming sound, grasping him tighter. “Probably not. Maybe you could carry me?”

A sigh, long and dramatic. “Yeah, maybe I could.” Eddie’s hands move to grip you more securely, and he grunts as he stands. “You’re seriously lucky you’re cute, trouble.”

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yan-lorkai · 2 months ago

Note

Hi hi! I really like all of your Yandere TWST stuff, but I admit I’m in LOVE with vampire Pom Trio. I wanted to ask how you think the whole trio would react to a sickly/frail darling. Like maybe darling was spooked and nervous to go in based on the rumors of the manor but their “friends” forced them to. Like friends could be their own.y ride, being sick could limit their interactions so they try to please their friends cause they’re lonely, etc. Like I could see Epel becoming such an overprotective big brother, especially if his new sibling is weaker/cuter/smaller than him. Vil could see the hidden beauty behind their weak/sickly form and try to bring out their “true beauty”. While Rook just loves their naive sweet demeanor and how so much of the world seems new to them. Uh! Just the idea seems so good to play with and darling could legit come to care for/love the trio cause while they are yandere and vampires they treat them better than anyone else ever has.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: This was so fun and cute ngl, Epel's brotherly instincts really shine here when he realized that Yuu is like he is when he was human. And thank you, the Pometrio au was something I writed on a whim but it's my favorite oneshot so far! I hope you like this!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Platonic yandere content, vampire stuff y'know, blood sucking, dead corpses, angst, Ace is an asshole here, Reader has a very bad immune system and gets sick easily.

You were standing in front of the abandoned house, staring at it for a few minutes now. Something about its energy was so dark and draining, though the drops of heavy rain were soaking you from head to toe effortlessly. You had to go in now, you are already here, alone and cold, as your friends didn't want to wait for you to have a sudden change of heart and enter with them.

Your friends, mainly Ace and Sebek were excited while Jack tagged along just because, Deuce tried to make them wait for you but all of them were eager to explore the hidden secrets that the old mansion may hold. So they went on without you. Letting you here alone, in the dark, your only company was a sense of discomfort seetling on your bones.

'I'm going to catch a cold', You thought to yourself as your coat was completely soaked and your whole body was trembling.

You could turn around and go away. Or you could enter and search for them. You were certain if they were in your position, they would go away without a single thought, but you felt a bitter taste on your mouth just by considering this option. It didn't seem right.

With a resigned sigh, you went through the rusty gate, running through a long path to get to the door, passing by a garden full of withered flowers. With every step, the sound of your feet crushing the wet grass echoes around you as you huddle under the hood of your coat, trying to shield yourself from the rain that falls incessantly and the cold that seeps into your bones. You just knew that tomorrow you would wake up with a raging fever and a cough that never goes away, your health was so fragile and weak, a simple rain could put you to rest in bed for several days. You try not to think about it too much.

Without a doubt this mansion used to be a beautiful place years ago but now it was downright chilling, even more right now where your imagination can ran free, making appear as the house loomed over you as it was too dark to see anything clearly. The broken windows and peeling paint only proved to you how much time has passed, how not a single human had put their foot here in a long while.

And if someone was here and now, they didn't have any good intention. Abandoned houses were first of all, abandoned, nobody repaired it or took care of it, so it was dangerous to walk through it.

And second, you knew that in houses like this it was common to dispose of bodies or sell drugs, things like that. It was just common sense.

Swallowing hard, you turned the doorknob and entered the mansion, preparing mentally for whatever was going to happen.

Inside, darkness seemed to consume everything it could touch. The frail light came only from the moon and was not enough to see clearly. The hallway was empty so you took to wander around a little, hugging yourself to not get so cold. It was not working as a sneeze left your lips, your throat starting to get rough and dry.

It was so cold, so cold and wet, and dark everywhere. Your eyes got used to it very slowly and sometimes you kept bumping into doors and walls because the light wasn't enough. Though you really thought you heard at least once someone laughing when this happened.

"Gosh, why did I came here?" You thought out loud. Bitterness rising inside you as you remembered how Ace belittled you and forced you to come. All the rude things he said running through your head as you very slowly walked through the maze of decrepit corridors and forgotten rooms, still feeling that something very wrong was about to happen.

If not right now, then later on.

The dim light filtering through the broken windows casted eerie shapes on the decaying walls, and the silence was oppressive, broken only by the creaking of old floorboards beneath your feet and your breathing. The whole place was devoid of life, of happiness, you looked for it in the portrait faces and all of them were seemed so sad and gloomy. Just like you.

Gloomy just like you are, having to deal with your bad immune system almost daily.

"Why didn't I just said no?" You knew why you didn't said no. Ace was one of your only friends, even if he was mean and rude without reason. You didn't want to be alone inside your room anymore, you didn't want to see your mother's worried expression or your father's frown as you got sick and bedridden again.

It was exhausting.

Even convincing them you'll be alright to go out tonight was hard as they were too worried about you.

"It could be worse" You smile even when your legs started hurting from how much you have been walking. Your stamina was always lacking, contrary to other teens you knew.

You got tired pretty quick so this was nothing new.

Feeling your energy dissipating, you call out for them once more, your voice echoing through the halls and then fading away slowly, leaving you behind. "They left me here all alone, didn't they? Well, it is my fault to allow them to drag me here, I suppose."

Then, you hear it: a strange noise echoing through the darkness. It's a faint, ominous sound, like a whisper carried on the wind or a belt being dragged on the floor, sending a shiver down your spine.

You strain your ears, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise but it seems to come from all directions at once, disorienting and unsettling.

"Really guys, you're going to play a prank on me?" You rolled your eyes. "Here of all places?

Certainly it was Ace idea to scare the daylights out of you and honestly it could have worked if you aren't so tired, another sneeze leaving your throat as you started walking again in a random direction. "I'm telling your brother you're being mean again, Ace and Sebek!"

You heard a giggle behind you but when you turned around there was no one there. Then it happened again and again but there was never someone there when you looked. An instinctive fear was growing on the pit of your stomach as you struggled to maintain calm, making excuses to not get scared.

It could be the wind. Or your imagination, maybe.

Or... Or... You didn't know.

You realized then that with each passing moment, the noise was louder, more insistent, it was as if the mansion's walls were alive with some unseen presence, watching you and waiting for a better opportunity to strike, faint smell of something you can't quite name it was on the air.

The wind was howling sofly at your ears, water dripping somewhere above you. Or was it beneath? Your coat was heavy on your shoulders, entirely soaked.

You weren't entirely sure as it was too dark to distinguish anything on the floor. What you did recognized was the sounds coming back.

I always knew I would die but it has to be here?' You looked around.

You were still surronded by doors who lend nowhere and the sound was getting near, taunting your existence as your friends liked to do, joking how you had more time to rest and the only price to pay was taking some meds or go to the hospital.

How it was easy to exist like this.

You hesitate, unsure of what to do next. Should you stay and investigate the source of the noise, or should you ran? Every instinct screams at you to run, to escape this haunted mansion and its unknown horrors. But a part of you don't want to leave now.

You knew so little of the world, you were drawn to the mystery, to the possibility of discovering what lies hidden in the shadows, plus it was still raining outside.

"If there's someone out there, come out." You added after a few seconds, uncertain. "Please?"

You heard a little laugh behind you but this time when you turned around, there was someone there - said someone was so close that you both bumped your heads by how fast you had turned around.

You stumbled back, almost tripping if the stranger hadn't grabbed both of your hands, you were apprehensive but otherwise curious about this strange boy.

"Ouch, look where ya goin!" He grumbled, though there was a little smile in his voice. He laughed again and the sound was soft.

You protested loudly. "You were the one who was standing behind me!"

You meet the boy's gaze with a calm expression, snickering a little at the face he was making. The boy rolled his eyes, seemingly amused by how you didn't reacted at all by his sudden appearance and yet he wasn't in no hurry to introduce himself, letting the seconds go by, instead taking to observe you and the little bandages that adorned your cheek and the little cuts on your fingers.

"Ya alright, kiddo?" He asked after a while. His voice was softer than you could imagine. And there was a special glimmer on his eyes as if he was approaching a wounded, frightened animal.

"I'm fine, thank you," You replied, a little too quickly for it to seem natural as you hid your hands behind your back and straightened your back.

You didn't want to tell him you fell and scrapped yourself just the other day or how your arms were sore because of the injections frequently administered into your veins. You wished to forget this.

But then again, you had no reasons to tell him that, even if his inquisitive eyes searched for something deep inside your soul. "Just a few scratches, nothing serious." You laughed it off, not mentioning the potentially growing fever that seemed to burn your body very slowly.

"I can be a little clumsy sometimes." You lied, averting your eyes from his, a shiver running down your spine as you did so. His eyes, lilac and big, were like two stars staring at you, burning you.

The boy hummed softly, not at all buying your story as his eyes lingered on the bandages that adorned your cheek. There was a thoughtful expression on his face as he observed you, as if he was trying to piece together the story behind your injuries.

He was stranger, more than this, you thought, what was he doing here? Why was he here? He didn't looked much older than you, maybe a year or two. And he didn't look dangerous too.

After a moment of silence, he finally spoke again, a little awkward and unsure as if he didn't talked much with people his age. "Glad to hear that, the name's Epel by the way." He said, a hint of genuine concern in his tone. "So... What brings you here?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal to this stranger. But there was something about him that put you at ease and you found yourself opening up to him more than you had expected. You didn't felt any judgement coming from him, instead he was very warm and friendly enough that he made you forgot about where exactly you two were at that moment.

"It's Halloween. My friends wanted to visit a creepy place, even if I didn't agree to it. Not because I'm afraid, well, I am a little, but because I'm still recovering from a very bad flu. They didn't care about it, though." You answered him, and that made you cringe.

Admitting this out loud - that they didn't cared about you - was a little sad even more because of the things they had called you when you voiced your opinion. "And then, next thing I know they all go in and I'm getting soaked in the rain."

Epel nodded understandingly, a sympathetic smile gracing his lips. "But friends don't force each other into uncomfortable situations, don't call them names and don't hit them either." He stated as if it was obvious then he flicked your forehead.

You flinched, a little groan leaving your throat, not expecting this.

He was right.

And you knew it, of course you knew. But you also didn't want to be alone anymore with your thoughts. If being the scapegoat to Ace's comments and pranks was the price to pay, you found out that you didn't mind at all.

You were used to it by now.

"You don't have to endure this, you don't have to live a life you don't deserve." Epel pondered for a minute, looking at you from head to toe, water still dripping from your heavy coat. "That's what my dads say, anyway. There's a bathroom turning to the left, go dry yourself and I bring you some new clothes."

It was almost comic how you were being lectured by a stranger who didn't knew anything about you but had a little of common sense. But what was more strange was how he knew where to go and even knew where to get some clothes, humming you decided not to voice your suspicious about it and take this opportunity instead.

It would, after all, be easier to run from him in dry clothes if he truly was dangerous.

Not that you'll run that far, a voice in your head told you. But at least I could try, you answered it.

With a hesitant smile, you followed his instruction, turning left and making your way down the corridor to the bathroom. You felt his eyes on you as you walked and that scared you a little but you knew that deep down, he was not a bad person.

Or maybe you were wishing really hard for that to be the truth.

You turned the doorknob and started coughing when the dusty winds slapped your face. The bathroom as any other room was not used for many years now and its age showed. A little light came from a broken window revealing a cracked mirror hanging above a chipping sink and tons of vines still growing over the walls and stretching to the floor. You observed them for a second, in some way this was almost beautiful. You wished you had brought your phone with you. Alas, you didn't.

Your searched for a towel inside the cabinet below the sink and surprisingly enough there was one. A little dusty but it was the only thing you could use. You hanged it on the back of the door and then closed it. The bathroom now was completely dark but this was nothing new, though you didn't really like it how suffocating it could be.

You quickly strip off your wet clothes, shivering in the cold air as you used the fluffy towel to dry your feet and legs, then your torso. Part of you still find this whole situation strange and comical. Maybe you were hallucinating everything? It would not be the first time this happened. And you did spend a while out there in the rain.

As you dry yourself off as best as you can, you couldn't help but wonder about where Ace and the others had gone to. You were separated for a total of ten minutes or that was how long you had counted before giving up and entering the mansion. Could it be that they were in another wing of the mansion? Or did they leave through another exit and left you there?

Honestly you don't even want to know.

Right now, you're just grateful for the warmth of the towel and the promise of dry clothes to come. If this was indeed a dream, then you would feel saddened when you woke up. Epel was the first boy who didn't look at you with pity but with curiosity instead.

He was the first one to be gentle with you rather then offer tips about how to get better soon or how you should suck up and live instead of lamenting that you're sick again.

It was easier to cling to the idea that he was a good, caring boy instead of a total dangerous creep who was wandering around an abandoned mansion.

Moments later, there was a knock on the door and Epel's voice sounded from the other side. "I brought you some clothes," His tone still gentle and reassuring, like an absolute angel. "I hope they fit."

You open the door to find Epel standing there, holding out a bundle of clothes for you. "Thank you," you answered softly, meeting Epel's gaze with a heartfelt smile.

You close the door again, hearing his footsteps moving away while you observed the clothes he brought you, which funnily enough were exactly your size. And were similar to his own. A pair of pants and a really pretty purple coat. It seemed so fluffy and warm.

As you slip into the dry clothes he's provided, you can't help but feel a little curious while you thought about Epel. Who exactly is he and what is he doing in this abandoned mansion with his dads? Why does he seem so familiar with the layout of this place? You might not know a lot about tons of things thanks to your illness and being homeschooled, but you do know that people in abandoned mansions must be here for a reason, usually not a good one.

You're giving him the benefit of the doubt for now, though.

Still you must find your friends and leave soon. This whole game they're playing around is getting boring and you are tired.

Or I could leave alone. You reminded yourself. It's just fair to leave them when they've done the same to me many times before.

Stepping outside the bathroom, you could hear a faint sound. Weak. You couldn't understand what it was though. It was quiet like the wind howling or the house creaking, it was there only for a second before disappearing as if it had never existed. Still a chill went down your spine as if somethine was telling you to run away and don't look back.

"Epel?" You called sofly.

There was no response. The air seemed thicker now and an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of your stomach again, remembering the noises from before. Did Epel had a sudden change of heart and was going to reveal he is actually a serial killer?

Or that his dad is the serial killer? Or that someone is a serial killer?

You're watching too many documentaries, that's for sure.

You took a hesitant step forward, the floorboards creaking beneath your feet. The faint sound echoed again, this time closer, but still indistinct. It seemed to be coming from the end of the hallway, the same hallway that you supposed Epel had gone to after you went to the bathroom.

I should probably run away now. You thought.

But then again, you never had time to be curious with how quick you could get sick. You had to find out more, or you were going to regret when you got back home.

The sound became louder, more pronounced. This time, it wasn't like a whisper carried on the breeze, but like thunder that consumes everything within reach. It was unnerving, almost as if the very walls held secrets they were reluctant to divulge. And yet you were persistent enough to try and get your answers.

You followed the sound quietly, hoping that nothing bad had happened. With each step you took, you turned your nose up at the strong smell that permeated that area of the house.

"Epel?" You called out to him once again, this time louder, as soon as you turned the hallway. "Ace? Jack...? Guys?"

A figure came running in your direction and crashed into you, sending you both to the ground, dust raising as you did. The world seemed like a blur, spinning around, your ears tingling. Before you could fully process what had happened, you felt strong arms wrap tightly around your middle, pulling you close.

Instinctively, you tensed, kicking and screaming at whoever was holding you to let go.

Then you heard the familiar voice. "You're alive, thank God."

Relief flooded through you as you recognized Ace's voice, hands still raised to punch him; when you looked up, your relief turned to shock.

Ace was bloodied and bruised, his clothes torn and ragged. His face was a mask of pain and exhaustion, but despite it all, he held onto you with a fierce desperation, as if afraid to let you go. You could see guilt on his eyes, on his frown.

Guilty for how he treated you. Guilty for dragging everyone to this cursed place.

He placed his hand over your mouth and pointed to somewhere behind him with his head. "Vampires. They're real."

A half laugh escaped you. "No, Ace, they aren't."

But as you glanced over his shoulder, you couldn't deny the sublte movement in the darkness, the sense of danger lurking just beyond your sight. For only a second, you thought you saw a pair of lilac eyes and then it disappeared as if it didn't existed.

You remembered Epel. His familiarity with this mansion, how he was walking in the dark as if he could see clearly. You thought about the strange sounds you had been hearing and the bad, metallic smell. Despite your doubts, you could feel fear growing on you, whispering that perhaps there was more to Ace's warning than you were willing to admit.

Before you could think about it, Ace stood up and helped you, looking to the dark that still surround you - the moon hidden behind the clouds, his grip on your hand tight as the darkness only grew.

"I do a lot of dumb shit but there's no way I'm going to pour fake blood on me. You have to trust me on this." He begged you, almost desperately, taking both your hands on his own as he stared at you with pitiful eyes.

But you still couldn't believe him, not yet, there was so many holes on his plot.

What if it was just another prank? Once Ace pretended that he was been chased by a serial killer or something and then laughed when you got worried, being really dismissive and cruel to you. You met his gaze. Could it be true? Could creatures of myth truly walk among us?

No... Yes...? Everything was so confusing.

You met Epel and he didn't seem like a vampire to you. And if he was one, he was a very polite one.

"I doubt it." Is finally your answer. But even you could tell your tone was unsure. "Call Jack, Deuce and Sebek back and let's go home already. My feet hurt."

Ace threw his hands up as a disbelieving laugh escaped him. Dried blood made you wrinkle your nose as he was still close enough for you to catch the scent. Ace paced back and forth for several seconds, like a man convinced of a bad idea but who desires more than anything to pursue it without a second thought.

"You don't understand the gravity of the situation!" He exclaimed, his voice filled with indignation as his hands trembled slightly. "Jack and Sebek are dead. Deuce is missing. They were murdered by that trio of vampires. Why, out of everyone who could have stayed alive, do I end up with the sick and useless burden? The one who can't run? The one who can't do anything? Why did you live while they didn't?"

You felt a lump form in your throat upon hearing Ace's words, laden with pain and frustration. Tears threatened to flood your eyes as the weight of Ace's final words hit you like a punch to the gut, his voice dripping with bitterness and despair.

You felt like a dead weight, a burden only bringing more pain and suffering to those around you. It was a feeling you knew all too well.

Impotence. Sadness. Yes, you knew them well.

You searched for any trace of regret in Ace's eyes, hoping there was something there. But there was nothing, as if the red of his eyes was just a facade for the darkness behind them.

Sometimes he talked before thinking. That was one of those times but this didn't excuse his behavior.

"Well… This sick burden here won't bother you anymore, if you want to run, then run. If you want to escape, then escape, I won't delay you."

Tiny tears finally escaped your eyes, rolling silently down your cheeks as you felt yourself sinking into the darkness of your mind. Burden, burden, burden, being repeated over and over again.

"Oh, Ace, my feet hurt, oh, Ace, you hurt my feelings and now I'm crying like a fucking baby. For fuck's sake, we have no time for this!" He exhaled hard, his frustration palpable in the air.

You took a step back, pulling away from him. Your head was a mess right now, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and thoughts fighting each other. And it was so hot here, unbearably hot.

The weight of Ace's words hanged heavy in the air, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. You felt hurt by his harsh words and the way he had dismissed you so callously. Like he always did, always used to do in front of his friends. You wiped your tears away roughly, feeling a surge of frustration building within you.

With a final, determined glance in his direction, you turned and walked away, a little awkward and feeling really hot all of sudden. Each step bringing shivers down your spine, feeling as if thousands of eyes were staring right at you.

"Fine... I'm going to prove to you that there's nothing there." You pointed to the dark corner. Too tired to care about the possible danger lurking around.

"Wait- get back here!" Ace whisper shouted. Almost desperately.

You paid him no mind, couldn't find the strength to care. If there was a mystical monster then at least you could ask it some questions and you had so many. If there wasn't, you two could go home and reunite with your other friends tomorrow.

"I'm going to count to three and then I'm going to run." Ace warned you.

You were almost there. The air was a little heavy now but you knew it was just fear acting up. Sweet, heavy air that didn't seem to want to reach your lungs. You breathed through your mouth instead, counting the sound of your footsteps and the whistle of the wind.

There was nothing there.

"One." He started, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead and coating his shirt. Fear was visible in his eyes when you turned to face him.

"There's no one here, Ace." You gestured to the dark corner. Though you felt uncomfortable there, you shifted from one foot to another, looking around.

Yep, nothing there. Or so you thought.

Slowly Ace started to move away, still facing the dark you so willingly surrounded yourself. He made a vague gesture for you to follow him, audibly gulping large amounts of saliva, wetting his lips with his tongue.

Is he being serious about this whole vampire thing? You ponder about. The human perception truly was something curious, the mind capable of creating something with so little. Or perhaps this was all a prank? You couldn't quite decide what to think about.

"Tw--"

An unexpected noise sounded behind you interrupting him. Both of you froze, your heart pounding in your chest. Gentle hands settled on your shoulders, drawing you back until you were pressed against someone's chest. All that escaped your lips was a small gasp.

Feeling the cold of the person's body against your back, you couldn't shake off the tremor of fear that ran through your whole body. There was someone behind you, someone you didn't know who they were. You could feel whoever it was breathing, cold air trickling down your neck, a smile on their face as their arms wrapped around your mid. Too tightly.

Slowly turning your head, you found yourself face to face with Epel. As Ace had said, a formidable figure - a vampire. Though he wasn't the same gentle and soft boy you met minutes before, now he was dangerous, and his fangs were exposed, his eyes glinting with an unsettling hunger and yet, playfulness.

Behind him, stood a beautiful man. A long, black coat wavying in the air as he walked out of the shadows, blood dripping from his chin. Unashamed, he licked it, savoring it.

"Why...?" You ask the boy who held you. Tired.

Epel's grip on you tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "Why?" He imitated you, his voice a mix of amusement and something darker. "Because I hate people like your friends. They can'tsee anything beyond their limited world vision, everything is so easy to them so they don'tcare about the feelings and thoughts of people like you."

Ace, who had been standing frozen in place, finally found his voice. "w'dya mean? I didn't do shit!"

The beautiful man in the black coat stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Ace. He wiped the remaining blood from his chin with a casual swipe of his thumb. "So you say but you see... The way you talked about your little friend here made my son very mad. You aren't very fond of them, are you?"

"I don't understand," you whispered, looking at Epel. "Why are you doing this? What did Ace do to deserve this?"

Epel's expression softened for a moment, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes before he hardened again. "It's not about what Ace did. It's about what he didn't. He didn't care about you at all, and that much was obvious since he invaded our home. He was joking and telling his friends all your most embarrassing stories to whoever wanted to hear."

He sounded sincere. He sounded sincere and you hated because you believed in him, his breath icy agains your feverish hot skin. "But don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. Or him for that matter, but father will."

The man in the black coat chuckled, his laughter sending a chill through the air. "That I will, for he dare enter in my territory, dirtying our portraits and damaging our coffins. And I suppose, insulting your little friend too, Epel."

You could see how Ace wanted to run, to escape the madness that was about to unfold before you, but his legs, like yours, felt like lead. Instead of running, he found himself rooted to the spot and he was shaking like a leaf about to fall to the ground.

His bravado had disappeared.

"Are you trembling, mortal? Are you afraid?" Epel's father hissed, his voice a chilling whisper that slithered into your ears and sent shivers cascading down your spine. His eyes, cold and piercing, bore into Ace's eyes with an intensity that made your breath caught up on your lungs.

The air around you seemed to grow colder, as if his very presence was siphoning away the warmth. "Good," he continued, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "You should be."

At any second now you were about to have a panic attack or faint. Your body was still deciding what to do, really.

Epel's father moved with an elegance that was terrifying in its beauty, each step deliberate, his presence commanding and predatory. Before Ace could even think to react or to run, Vil was on him, faster than a flicker of light. There was no hesitation, no room for escape — the vampire’s hand shot out, slamming Ace against the cold, cracked wall with such force that a strangled gasp tore from his throat.

You froze, helpless, as Vil’s fingers tightened around Ace’s throat, lifting him just high enough that his feet barely scraped the ground. Ace struggled, his nails digging into Vil's hand. It was like watching a wounded animal fight a hawk.

“Is this all?” Vil murmured, his voice as soft and smooth as silk. He had the kind of voice that could calm anyone, his soft german accent coming out. “Is this the best you can do?” He tilted his head regarding Ace with an expression of mock disappointment.

"Indeed, how pitiful." A third voice. You turned around to see Epel’s other dad; another blonde, but this one had savage eyes and a strange smile on his lips.

And he was bloody all over; all over his lips, all over his white shirt. And he didn't care at all about it.

"Tsc, such a messy eater, you are." Vil looked at him with a disgusted stare. The other vampire only smiled.

"Plea-se..." Ace’s breath came in ragged, desperate gasps, but there was no strength left to fight back. The couple turned to face him.

"He is not worthy to be killed by you, mon amour." The smaller blonde said to his lover. The taller one giggled.

You took a step forward, your heart pounding painfully in your chest, but Epel caught your wrist, stopping you. “No,” he whispered, pulling you back gently, his eyes meeting yours with a sorrowful understanding. “It’s already over.”

“But… he’ll die,” you whispered back, tears blurring your vision, your voice barely a choked whimper.

Epel’s grip on you tightened, his expression soft but resolute. “He brought this on himself. Don’t look. You don’t have to see this.”

But you couldn’t tear your gaze away as Vil leaned closer to Ace, his lips brushing against the pulse in his neck.

"Are you hungry?" He asked Rook.

"Je suis satisfait, love." His answer was instantaneous.

Vil nodded. And then, without warning, his fangs sank into Ace’s flesh.

His body jerked violently, his mouth opening in a silent scream as Vil began to drink. The sight was horrifying — watching as Ace's life was drained away, the color fading from his face with each passing second. You felt your knees buckle, but Epel held you steady, his touch the only thing anchoring you as you fought to keep from collapsing.

Vil pulled back after a moment, blood staining his lips, his eyes glowing with an eerie, predatory light. He watched Ace with a detached, almost curious gaze as the boy’s body sagged in his grasp, barely conscious, trembling with the last vestiges of life.

“Such a waste,” Vil murmured, his voice tinged with a faint hint of regret. Then, with a swift, effortless motion, he snapped Ace’s neck.

The sound echoed in the silence, sharp and final, and you flinched, biting back a sob that threatened to escape. Vil released Ace, letting him crumple to the ground in a lifeless heap. He turned back to you and Epel, dabbing at his lips with a handkerchief, his expression once again composed, as if nothing had happened at all.

“There,” He said, his voice calm, almost bored. “One less distraction.”

You trembled, unable to find the words, the sight of Ace’s lifeless body burned into your mind. The tears you had been holding back finally spilled over, and you tried to wipe them away, tried to force yourself to breathe. But the weight of what had just happened made it feel impossible.

Epel moved closer, wrapping his arms around you again, his touch gentle as he guided your head to rest against his shoulder. “It’s okay,” He whispered, his voice soft, almost soothing. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

But even with Epel’s arms around you, you felt anything but safe. All you could see was Ace’s pale, lifeless face, the blood staining the ground, and the haunting, satisfied smile that still lingered on Vil’s lips.

“Mon trésor,” Rook murmured, his voice smooth like velvet as he addressed Vil. “You were as breathtaking as ever. Such skill, such grace.” His eyes drifted toward Ace's lifeless form before settling back on Vil with unrestrained admiration. “Tonight we've found so many little treasures. Yet the most interesting is still here.”

Vil sighed softly, shaking his head as he finished wiping the blood from his lips with a cloth. “What is it you want, Rook?” His tone was gentle but tinged with exasperation, as if he were used to indulging Rook's whims.

Rook gestured to you, his eyes alight with excitement. “This one. Look at them. They’ve endured so much yet still remain standing. Such resilience in one so delicate — it is rare, mon amour. I believe they belong with us.”

Vil’s gaze softened as he took in your form - frail, trembling, and clearly unwell, your breath labored. He stepped closer, moving with a kind of grace that seemed almost otherworldly, until he stood directly in front of you.

He reached out, hesitating for just a moment before brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and warm despite the chill of his skin. “You’re burning up,” Vil observed, his voice laced with concern. “How long have you been suffering like this?”

You couldn’t find your voice, throat dry and tight, but you managed a small shake of your head, a weak attempt to dismiss his worry. Epel, who still held onto you, answered in your stead, his voice barely above a whisper. “They’ve been like this for a hour or so, Father. They got caught in the rain.”

Vil frowned, his brows knitting together in a way that seemed almost heartbreaking. “You should have come to me sooner, Epel,” He scolded, though his tone remained soft. “You know I would have helped.” He looked back at you, eyes now filled with a gentle determination. “You poor thing. You must’ve endured so much on your own.”

Rook’s eyes gleamed with something akin to pride as he watched Vil’s interaction with you, his smile growing wider. “See, mon amour? I knew you would understand. They need care, guidance. They need us.”

Vil nodded slowly, a resigned sigh escaping his lips. “Yes… they do.” He turned back to you, his expression softer than you’d ever thought possible, even more because he was the killer of your childhood friend.

“I used to be a doctor once,” He confessed, his voice quiet, as though sharing a secret. “And I have not forgotten the duty I took upon myself to care for those who needed me.”

You felt your eyes welling up with tears, unable to fully comprehend the kindness he was showing you. “You… you don’t have to…” you tried to protest, but the words died in your throat, the exhaustion and fever taking their toll.

“Hush,” Vil murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a gesture that was achingly tender. “You’ve fought enough for one day. Let us take care of you now.” He glanced at Epel, who had been watching everything with wide, hopeful eyes. "Epel, go and prepare some chamomile tea, Rook, you wouldn't have a tonic for the fever, would you?"

Rook beamed, clearly delighted by how things were unfolding. “Ah, how wonderful! Our family grows once more!” He reached out to help steady you, his touch light, as though afraid you might break. “I don't have any remedy with me now, mon roi but I can go and brought more.”

Epel’s face lit up, and he quickly nodded, disappearing among the shadows and leaving you alone with them. These mythological creatures, killers. And also your helpers.

This moment never came.

"Then go, we'll be waiting" Vil said to his lover, depositing a small kiss on his forehead before he disappeared into the shadows and the darkness.

"We'll then, this way, little one." Vil's hand never left your shoulder as he guided you slowly through the corridors - you were skittish, preparing yourself for the moment where he would attack you, that he would kill you.

Vil’s grip remained firm but gentle, his touch more reassuring than restrictive. He led you through the dimly lit corridors of the mansion, his footsteps echoing softly on the wooden floor, a stark contrast to the loud, frantic beating of your heart.

You flinched at every shadow that flickered in the candlelight, expecting at any moment for him to bare his fangs, to reveal that this kindness had been nothing more than a cruel joke. But that moment also never came.

Instead, Vil paused at a doorway, pushing it open with a smooth motion and revealing a warmly lit room. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and lavender, and you caught sight of a large, comfortable coffin piled high with soft blankets.

“You’ll rest here,” Vil said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He guided you over to the coffin - his coffin, carefully easing you down onto the mattress. As you sank into the softness, a sigh of relief escaped your lips, your body finally succumbing to the exhaustion that had been clawing at you.

“But… why?” The question slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Why are you being so kind to me? Why won't you kill me?”

Vil’s eyes softened, and for the first time, you saw a trace of something warmer beneath the icy exterior—a hint of sadness, perhaps even empathy. “Because you deserve it,” He answered simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve suffered enough, haven’t you?”

You blinked up at him, struggling to process his words, to believe that someone like him — a vampire, a predator, a killer— could possess such tenderness. “But I’m just… I’m just a burden,” you murmured, your voice cracking with the weight of your insecurities.

Vil’s expression hardened, and he crouched down in front of you, bringing himself to your eye level. “No one in my care will ever be a burden,” He said firmly, and there was an intensity in his gaze that made you believe him, even if only for a moment. “You have worth, little one. More than you know and more that you're capable to see right now.”

Epel entered the room then, carrying a tray laden with steaming cups and small vials filled with colorful liquids. “Father, I’ve brought some tea.”

Vil stood, taking the tray from his son and placing it on the bedside table. “Drink,” He instructed, holding out one of the cups to you. “It will help.”

Your hands trembled as you reached for it, but Vil’s steadying grip enveloped yours, guiding the cup to your lips. The warmth spread through you, soothing the chill that had taken residence in your bones, and you couldn’t help but sigh as the tension slowly began to melt away.

"Don't make such a long face, darling," Vil reprimanded you, his fingers smoothing down the traces of worry and tiredness.

"I just... You know you are my friend's killer, right? I don't know how to react to that." You were sincere, avoiding his piercing gaze as you observed the porcelain and the drawings from his cup.

"We kill to survive, not for pleasure or entertainment, I can see how things may be from your point of view but you don't have to worry." He sighed, looking back at his son, Vil could see that he had grown quite attached to you. And the sight made him quite warm.

Epel was a terribly lone child in his opinion, and it would do wonders for him if he had a younger sibling.

"What will happen to me?" You dare ask him the question that made you scared. His hand found yours and he squeezed it gently.

"I will take care of you," He told you. Vil’s lips quirked up into the faintest of smiles. “Do you want to lie down now or wait for Rook to return with your medicine?” He turned his attention back to you, his eyes softer than before, and you answered him by letting your body fall into the coffin. “I see, well, rest now. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe those words, to let your guard down, even just a little. As your eyelids grew heavy and sleep began to pull you under, the fever subsiding slowly, you felt Vil's hand slide into yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a comforting gesture.

“You’re safe now,” He whispered, and with that, you let the darkness take you, lulled into a dreamless sleep by the warmth of their kindness.

Things may have not been ideal but they weren't that bad - for you, that is.

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moonlight-prose · 28 days ago

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Hi hi. 🫶 Hope you’re having a good Halloween! I guess I’m here for the mini drabble celebration lol. If it’s okay, I’d like to do 🎃 + Logan Howlett, maybe something leaning towards comfort. I need that man to hug me or something. Surprise me with whatever version of him lmao.

hello babes! halloween is chill today and not all that exciting. but i'm doing a movie marathon with me myself and i tonight so that is plenty of excitement ngl. hope it's fun af on your end. and honestly getting hugged by this behemoth of a man would heal so much.

When it comes to hugs. Full bear hugs that lead to him pressing you down into the couch cushions, his head in the crook of your neck and hands kneading your hips, it's worst!Logan who does it best. He's affectionate without needing to feel embarrassed anymore. He's been through enough, survived far too much, to feel that familiar burn of shame for wanting physical touch.

It's after a long day. Not the kind that leaves him sweaty and bloody and dripping with adrenaline. But the kind that drags on his soul. The exhaustion of two hundred years biting at the back of his neck, tugging him towards sleep that could very well last two days.

You never expect him to do it. Never on guard for a massive lumbering man to flop beside you on a couch barely big enough to fit the average human. Yet you find that complaining would only make him stop, and that's the last thing you want.

"Need to touch ya," he mumbles, eyes hazy with sleep and body slumped with the weight of being a hero still stuck on his shoulders.

"In what way-"

You barely get the question out before he's on you. Legs twining with yours, arms scooping you up into a full body hug, and face nuzzling into your hair with a sigh. He's warm. Overheating the close proximity to a point of near suffocation, but you find that it would be a lovely way to die.

Looping your arms around his neck, you bury your nose into his shoulder - lips dragging along the bare skin with a grin. Sated. Content. Entirely at ease with a life spent indoors with him.

send me a 🎃+ a character and i’ll write you a short blurb!

#witch aunt responds #ovaryreacted darling #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett #logan thoughts & musings #hallo thy ween 24

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t0rturedangel · 10 months ago

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can i have some yandere!Vox using his mind control powers on the reader??

╭ . . . 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚗𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜 ੭

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄-𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 ! 𝐕𝐎𝐗 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

♰ ৎ﹕𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦

WOOO VOX STUFF, ngl vox is my favorite out of the three vees (idk much abt velvette and i fucking HATE valentino)

✧⠀⨾ the only way he'd ever hypnotize you was if you dared to leave him- i mean who would leave him HIM?? the cool, chill guy Vox, the guy who anyone can trust with their stuff? How could you, in the name of lucifer himself, dare to leave just like that?

✧⠀⨾ you used some lame excuses too, "oh you're scaring me!" "This isnt healthy or alright in the slightest" like seriously? that's not even that serious! all he wants is for you to stay with him. BY HIM. that's all he's asking, is it too much?

✧⠀⨾ fuckin must be, since now you're sobbing and grabbing bunches of clothes- throwing them into a small, very pathetic suitcase so you'd have something when you ran away.

✧⠀⨾ you see, now, now you've went too far- now vox has to step in, which will not be good for anyone.

Through tears in your eyes you grabbed even more clothes, stuffing them all into your [ favorite coloured ] suitcase, occasionally blinking tears away or rubbing them off of your face. Vox went mad, he was always weird to you during the later period of your relationship- always too touchy and manic, too close to you. Yes, the two of you were dating, and everyone thought it was fine- you and vox were happy together. That was true, at least at the start of this twisted relationship, Vox genuinely seemed to care, to love you and would never dare to hurt you, he said so himself.

Yet, recently he's been acting so off- so wrong. Before he was kind, gentle, never forced you to do anything you didn't want to, but now? Lucifer, what happened to him? What happened to that man that you cared and loved so much, what infected his mind? You ,it seemed, were the answer- he changed because of you of how much he "loves" you. he hates seeing other sinners get too close to you- his precious angel- one who should be untouched by the filth of imps and lower sinners, he even went as far as to ban you from seeing the other vees (who you grew decently close to, earning their respect), he seemed to adore the fact that he controlled every aspect of your life and that you failed to notice it at first, too blinded by your love for him, for everything he did for you before the relationship became official- it was so foreign to see him like that now that you knew, that you've opened your eyes and saw the true intent of his actions, now you're scared, horrified.

Through your hysterics, as Vox labeled them when you first began to cry over all of this, you failed to notice that very same 'boyfriend' (you cringed at calling him that, that thing was not your boyfriend- was it ever your boyfriend?) standing in the door frame, his screen glitching with annoyance and screeching out quiet static noises that seemed for familiar yet so eerie, and his eye wider than the other- a beautiful black swirl dancing around on a red background, such an entrancing sight ❝ babe. ❞ you heard his voice, so distorted and full of displeasure making you shrieked out of almost pure instinct and turned your body so fast you almost has whiplash- eyes wide at the sight of Vox, a horror engraved into your [eye colour] irises . Your body began to tremble it felt almost natural to fear Vox, of what he'd do- he want others to imagine him as this stupid cool guy, who has not a care in the world but you knew what he was truly like. you knew what he was, what he said, what he felt about the other desperate sinners.

❝ go away vox- im not your 'babe' im leaving❞ it was barely above a whisper but sounded so loud in your head, so very loud. That one sentence could have leaft you deaf, you wish it did- wishing it left you deaf and blind so you didnt have to hear his voice, coated in an artificial love, dripping with his real poisonous intent, or see his face- that face you loved to see plastered around the pride ring, the face that now glared at you. ❝ Dont be like that [name]- you know you're my [girlfriend/boyfriend/lover] you cant leave me ❞ his voice, still laced with that distortion didn't register in your head, it's like you didn't even hear it- like you really went deaf.

you could hear his steps echo through the room and that confidences you held a meer second ago- drained from your stature immediately. A fear washed over you, overwhelming your body... Millions of questions raced through your tormented mind all desperate to be your sole focul. „ what will he do? ” „will he kill me? Torture me? Sell me off to some beggar?”

Those questions, such meaningless questions you thought, will never be answered. Though do not fear, Vox cherishes you too much to allow you to be in harm's way of anyone else- he just loves you so much, so much so that he'll forgive this silly little attitude of yours just this once: next time he won't be as forgiving. Though, in all his honesty there won't ever be a 'next time' and all he needed to prevent this was for you to look at his eyes, to just give him one glimpse, it's like deja vu for you ist it? What were you thinking? Those fears, those worries and silly little thoughts of leaving him should have never been thought in the first place, oh how could you be so horrible to think that your loving boyfriend Vox would EVER be so controlling and terrible? My dear, Vox only wants what's best for you, and whats best for you if to stay with him! That's all you need to do, he'll do all the hard work, he'll get his hands dirty, he'll protect you. No one else can do what he does, no other overlord, no other vee, no sinner, not even Lucifer himself can keep you safe like how he can.

after all, he just loves you too much to let you leave, and why would you? being with him had never been better. Though now Vox re-thinks letting you think for yourself again, after all last time he did you wanted to leave.

That cannot happen again. NEVER again.

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kaisers-house-of-desires · 1 year ago

Note

I'm kinda leaning on the Toji x reader, Kokoshibou x reader, Muzan x Reader, or Ganondorf x reader stuff we mentioned, ngl - H

I'm partial to the Muzan x Reader one sooooooo You'll find it below~!

My apologies for how short it is, but sometimes, short is sweet

Title: In Sickness and in Health

Characters: Muzan x m!Reader

Contains: fluff, sickness, near death, pet names (love, dear)

Fandom: Demon Slayer

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI (This may not be smut, but I still want the above to be followed)

Reblogs > likes

"My love...I think...it's time."

You lie on your back on the bedding Muzan had made for you, a bedding befitting royalty. Pillows softer than an angel's wings propped up your heavy head, and blankets more plush than a sheep's wool covered your body.

A sickness had attacked your body, and despite his knowledge in medicine, Muzan was unable to find a cure for this disease, leaving him to become a mess you had never seen him become. Worry took over his own body, panic slowly creeping up on his face as you spoke the words he never wanted to hear you say.

"My dear, please, don't say such things. You merely want to rest, yes? Then please, rest."

"Muzan..." A weak, pale hand raised to gently caress his chilled cheek. "We both know what I mean...and I'm ready."

You were grateful, as this sickness had taken the years to finally get you to this point. You were able to enjoy what time you were given to your husband, and throughout that time, you had come to accept what was to come, especially since a cure seemed further and further out of reach.

You had never seen this man cry, so to see him shed so many tears at your bedside only made your heart ache, even more so when he gripped at your hand, thinking holding it tightly would keep you down to earth with him.

"Muzan, shhh...please...I promise...it's better I go while I'm ready...than to leave with regret."

He knew that. He of all people should know that, especially with the time he has spent alive. He has seen many people come and go, but never, never has he felt such a fear of losing anyone before.

"...You can't leave me...I'm sorry..." Muzan's voice shook as he spoke, pressing your hand and his to your forehead. "Please...give me more time. I can find a cure! I know I can!"

"As great of a doctor as you are...not everything is meant to be cured..."

Ah, that's right. That's what he told you. He told you he was a doctor. He had almost forgotten his little white lie amidst his rare emotions.

"But...you cannot expect me to just let you die..."

"No...No I don't." Your voice was weak, and it only weakened by the minute. "I expect you to let me go, to allow me to move on. I told you, love...I'm ready."

"But I'm not! Please just..." He choked on a sob, wracking his thoughts around for an idea.

And one came to mind.

Immediately, his emotions flipped like a switch, and he slowly gazed at you with red, puffy eyes.

"My love...If I...If I may be selfish..." He stood from his seated spot, his hands moving up your arm until one rested under your head, gently lifting it so you two could meet eyes. "Please...allow me to..."

"Muzan...?" You furrowed your brows, tiredly meeting his eyes as he moved around. "What is it you wish to do...?"

"I...I have not been honest with you, dear. There is...a part of me I kept hidden from you for so long." He thought carefully about what to say, about how to say it. "This part of me...I never wanted you to see, to experience, but..."

You chuckled lightly before it turned into a phlegm filled cough, only startling Muzan further. However, you spoke before he could utter a word. "Alright, love..."

Muzan froze, unsure if he heard you correctly. "A...Alright?"

You gave him a weak smile. "I'm not sure what you're wanting to do, but...heh...I trust you." Honestly you thought maybe he was finally losing it at this point, considering how he had behaved with you during your sickness. Your sickness was lighting the fuse, and you dying was the explosion you never wanted to see. However, who were you to deny him at this point?

Your trust was all he needed, and it was like all fear and sadness left like water rushing out of a dam. Adrenaline kicked in, and with a bite of his tongue, Muzan's lips met yours.

At first, your suspicions felt correct, though you weren't complaining. His kisses were always lovely, and you'd be a fool to leave before receiving one last kiss from your husband.

But what you weren't expecting was the rush of blood that poured into your mouth.

Metallic liquid settled against your tongue, sliding down your throat. You had never tasted anything so foul, but as you swallowed it, you wouldn't remember the taste. In fact, you wouldn't remember anything for awhile.

It felt like a blink, and you were sitting up in bed, panting heavily as your eyes darted around the room. Your vision felt...cleaner, clearer. It was...sharper than before. Your body felt famished, like you hadn't eaten in weeks.

"M-Mu...zan...?"

Even your voice was affected, hoarse and weak. At first you thought it didn't change based on your sickness from before, but no. It had changed. You just didn't recognize it yet.

Muzan stood by the bedside, his red eyes gazing down to meet similar red irises. He knew well what he had done, and he was ready to accept the consequences of it, whatever they may be. For now, he saw this as a moment of joy, and he reached for your hands once more. Again, an emotion you never thought you'd see on him molded his face, leaving him smiling slightly wider than usual.

"My dear...you're just like me now. We can walk the earth to the end of time...as demons."

In all honesty, this is a nice segue into a possible part 2, so should you desire that, please let me know once requests open back up!

#kaisers house of desires #x reader #x male reader #x male y/n #male reader #demon slayer #kibutsuji muzan #kny muzan #muzan kibutsuji #muzan x reader #demon slayer muzan #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #muzan x y/n #muzan x you #muzan x male reader

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heyidkyay · 7 months ago

Text

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-Four

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors note: I’m here:) finally. It’s been a while, idk how long, not that long but long enough i guess, sorry for the wait! This one is wordy but also has a lot going on, so hope you enjoy!

Ngl, this can probably be read as a standalone if anyone’s seeing this and not started the series, it’s just a bit angsty and mostly smut? But unsure, I said probably! X

Warnings: Arguing, usual Matty and Mouse thinking (feels like it needs its own warning at this point, they’re saddos), smut, unprotected sex, EMOTIONS (because yeah)

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

There was something raw in the bitterness that was love. Like the sour skin of an apple that was first thought to be sweet. Love was deceiving in itself really, but it was never alone. It brought life and light. It wrought anger. It stirred both jealousy and pity. It gave and gave, until all you were left with was that tart tang aftertaste.

Some people revelled in it.

Others, withered away.

Years before, perhaps maybe not even that long ago now, Matty would have belonged to the former. He had enjoyed the strings he found that could tie him to people, sex and money had given him the ability to do it, to keep them there, to pull them alongside him. And he’d indulged in it all, beyond what most would consider extortionate.

And still, even after everything, when the fun had ended and the games had been discarded, and he’d just been tossed off somewhere to the side… Alone once more. He had continued on. On and on and on, until he ultimately had lost himself completely.

The last few months had shifted something in him though.

And now here he was, still angry and bitter and resentful. But full of actual love. The raw type. The kind that left you marvelling at the most stupid things— insipid little concepts that held no actual value or any real detail worth getting all starry-eyed over.

It had wormed its way into the hollow shell that was his heart and rebuilt some part of him that he believed he had long since destroyed.

He wanted to scoff at the very thought. The very idea that an emotion could be felt so strongly that it differed the world around you; that, singularly, it could change you. The notion was far too complex, too out there to even begin to fathom, but then again, Matty supposed that emotions were exactly that. Complex.

It sent his mind reeling. Had his entire body aching with a fever to expel the feeling completely, if only so that he could think freely again, so it wouldn’t hurt to merely breathe anymore.

You should have told me.

He knew that. He had admitted as much.

And yet, he still hadn’t told her.

He’d lied.

Why didn’t you tell me?

And that was the question, wasn’t it? Why hadn’t he just told her?

Fear, he guessed.

Yet another morbid emotion in which Matty had always been so wary of. Another lost feeling he thought he’d swallowed whole and hidden somewhere deep down. Because there was no fear in a drug induced haze. When you were off partying or chasing some other euphoric high. What the fuck was there to be fearful of? When the chilling buzz which shook you to your very core blanketed over everything else.

When there was always that silence.

That numb quiet he had chased and craved and cherished.

Though, he supposed, it was nothing compared to the fear of losing this.

Of losing her.

Still, Matty could not for the life of him find it in himself to tell her exactly that. Those words lost on him, lodged in the column of his throat and etching themselves a home there.

“Where do we go from here?”

He blinked at the sound of his own voice, looking up at her shadowed expression and at how tired she then seemed. How different she now looked compared to the moment they’d first met.

She’d been something of a presence even then. Always effortlessly complex. With her soft smile and guarded eyes. Eyes he’d gone and fucking wondered about for hours on end.

Those eyes which were now caught on the far wall stood opposite, the one lined with coloured photo frames and that odd little doodle Teddy had gotten in trouble for only a couple of weeks prior.

The realisation made Matty mourn the few days they’d spent apart.

After a long moment, she finally shrugged at him and he found himself swallowing tightly at the movement. Startled by her seeming lack of care.

“I don’t want to lose you, Squeaks.”

It was honest. As honest as he could be.

She huffed an amused breath in return though, “Not like you’re short on company, Matty.”

He felt his gaze snap up to meet hers then, head shifting with it.

“What’s that even meant to mean?” He asked her, frowning now, at the way she had crossed her arms over her chest and how her shoulders had hunched on their own accord whilst she casually moved to glance out the window. Matty forced himself up onto his feet, hating the fact she had turned away from him.

“I saw everything, Matty.” Mouse replied tiredly, as though she was fed up, fed up with this, with them. “I saw the articles.”

Matty’s stomach bottomed out at her words, he stepped towards her. “Nothing happened.” He murmured, taking another step closer. “Nothing fucking happened, Squeaks. I swear it.”

She tensed but didn’t quite flinch at his sudden approach, so he kept a little distance between them, even as desperate as he was to hold her. To shake her enough so that she would see sense, that she’d realise how stupid he would have had to have been to have gone near anyone else. That girl was no one, she’d meant nothing.

“You can swear that, can you?” She mocked him, one corner of her mouth toying with a merciless smile that didn’t quite suit her. “You were gone, Matty. Fucking out of it. That much was clear to see just from the photos alone.”

Matty stared at her helplessly.

She shook her head.

“I’d had a couple drinks. That isn’t a crime!” He stressed, automatically falling onto the defensive, “Didn’t mean I was stupid enough to get with the first person I fucking saw! That girl- she was off her head too. Had mates with her even! But she was just trying to help me, Mouse. That’s all it was.”

She was shaking her head again now, tongue catching on her incisor; a dead giveaway to how stressed she was, how anxious she was getting. Matty only wished to shoulder it all, that defensiveness of his faltering slightly at the sight of her trying to hide it all. To stay strong. How fucking long had she had to do that?

“I feel like such a fool, Matty.” She finally spoke, her voice trembling with the onslaught of tears that glazed her eyes but she didn’t dare let fall. “A fucking fool. ‘Cause I’d thought that things were okay, that we were okay. That I could finally relax and let you in. But then-“ She paused, a sad huff leaving her, “Then you went and dropped this mess in my lap and somehow expected me to just deal with it. To tell you it’s all fine. That we could make it right.”

Mouse turned then, ever so slowly, looking about as defeated as Matty had ever seen her. He felt his chest burn with the last breath he hadn’t remembered taking let alone hold onto, too afraid to look away, to even move.

“But you embarrassed me. You’ve made the whole world believe I am that fool. That I was as naive as they’d first made me out to be. As my friends thought me to be.”

Her smile was shattered and broken, her voice wet and hoarse, but she continued on even as her hands fell limply to her sides and she took a single step closer.

“And to make things worse, you didn’t just hurt me, Matty. You hurt Teddy too.”

–

Hit them where it hurts.

That was the saying, wasn’t it?

But it only left me feeling all the more sour- gutless. As well as a little stupid, I supposed, wondering if Matty even cared for Teddy at all, or how he had felt the last couple days.

Though I shouldn’t have second guessed it, not when the way Matty’s face immediately paled and then fell proved me wrong.

Deep down, I knew that he cared. In his own odd way he had always cared. But to know it and to see it were two entirely different things.

And although it was true, that Matty had in fact hurt Teddy. It still felt like a shitty thing to say to him then. But he’d hurt me as well, hadn’t he. And even though I’d been hurting most of my life, Matty being the reason for all that hurt pained me in a way I couldn’t even comprehend.

“I didn’t-”

I scoffed at his attempted reply, but my heart wasn’t in it, breaking all over again. I wondered how long we could drag this out. If we even would.

“Mean to?” I finished for him, shaking my head stupidly. “I know you didn’t mean to, Matty. Doesn’t change the fact that you still did it.”

His eyes slipped closed just as his lips fell apart, and when he opened them again I was stuck staring into his devastated gaze.

“If I could take it all back, I would.” He breathed, “I promise you I would.”

I swallowed back my own tears, even as they burned and pricked at my throat and eyes. “But you can’t.”

And it was as simple as that, wasn’t it? He couldn’t ever take it back.

I don’t want to lose you.

He knew just how to get under my skin, past all that rusted armour of mine.

It was what made this all so much harder.

“Tell me what to do, Squeaks.” Matty croaked pleadingly, hand reaching out towards me before he looked down at it, blinked, and then let it fall. “I’ll do it, just– tell me.”

What was left that he could do? When it felt like things had so suddenly and so horrifically fallen out from under us.

“I don't know.” I told him honestly, in a barely there whisper, “I just don't know, Matty.”

He stepped even closer then, hand moving to capture my jaw in a determined haste, not restraining himself like he had just moments before. I tried to pull away, titling my chin and looking off to the side as I clenched my teeth, but his thumb was there, luring me back in, forcing me to meet his eye.

“I’m not just gonna give up.” His other hand jumped to cradle my face, a cushion to those heated words.

I was reluctant in my needless wanting, desperate to be held whilst simultaneously wanting to push him away. So I lifted my hands up to cover his own, unsure of the choice they’d make. To stay, or go.

“It’s not about that, Matty.” I heard myself say pathetically, voice wavering with each word, “You can’t just forget this.”

His dark eyes were trained on me, flickering over every square inch of my scarred face. I’d never felt insecure about them when I was around him, but this moment felt too heated, too high strung. And I’d been burning the candle at both ends the last few days, so with him being this close, this intense, every emotion I’d felt was brimming closer and closer to the surface.

Instead of facing him, I turned away, hiding once more as I worked my jaw and felt my hands slip down to the backs of his forearms.

A shared breath and then,

“Don’t do that.” Matty whispered in the quiet, almost begging. “Don’t hide from me.”

His thumb smoothed over the skin of my cheek and I was all but putty in hands, looking back at him just as a tear escaped me and slid to meet the pad of it.

Matty brushed the tear away without thought, before he leant in to rest his forehead against my own. The action forced me to cling tighter to his arms, eyes closing to keep from embarrassing myself any further. I wouldn’t cry.

I wouldn’t cry.

“Look at me.” He demanded, nose so close that I could practically sense its phantom touch. And foolishly, I did as he asked. “You-” His breath stuttered as his eyes pleaded with me, sounding forced as it broke free from him, his fingers making a home for themselves in my hair.

“You don’t know what you do to me. How much of a mess I’ve made of myself. How much I have missed you.” Matty confessed, his voice quiet in the small space shared between us, in a place where we were both sheltered and unseen. “And I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry. Enough that I’ll keep on repeating it until you fucking believe me. Enough that I’d do just about anything for you to see how much I want this.”

He sucked in a breath, and I blinked back at him, lips tingling with the sensation of his proximity.

“I know I messed up. I know.” He repeated, eyes flickering back and forth between my own whilst his thumbs trailed the line of my hair. “But all I’m asking for is a chance to make it right. To be better. Squeaks, I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat if I could.”

His breath was tickling the skin of my cheek as well as the corner of my mouth, it almost made it difficult to think let alone remember how to breathe. I wanted–

Suddenly my eyes were looking down, focused on his parted mouth, on the stubble he’d let grow across the cut of his chin as well as his upper lip. His nose finally brushed past my own, touching ever so carefully as one or both of us pressed nearer, almost there, inching closer but not close enough.

“Tell me no.”

Instantly, I was thrown back to that first night he kissed me. I hadn’t told him no then, and for some reason I couldn’t find it in me to decline him now.

So instead I took, all but biting as my hand cradled the back of his neck and closed that short amount of distance between us. My nails dug into the exposed skin of his nape, where the collar of his shirt jumped with each move he made. My teeth nipped at his lower lip, angry in my attempt to swallow him whole, teeth clashing as we both stumbled, moving and moving until Matty’s back hit the nearest wall.

How the roles had reversed, I thought to myself as Matty’s shoulders flexed beneath his shirt and jumped under my ever roaming hands. I hated the desire that it stirred through me, knowing how easily he could take back control with his carefully contained strength. But he didn’t, instead he gave my fury something to latch onto.

My hand lifted to pin one of his wrists somewhere to the left of his head, glare not wavering even as his stubborn gaze met my own. He was as riled up as me.

“You have some nerve.” I all but spat, watching on as his chest rose and fell, questioning how quickly everything had switched.

“Yeah?” Matty bit back, those familiar brown eyes- a colour that had always brought me comfort- were blazing now as they trailed over the flush that I was sure lined my face. “Why’s that? You’re the one with me pinned, darlin’.”

His heavy gaze traced the bow of my lip, slumping ever slightly in his stance so that his head could fall closer forward. My breath hitched.

That was all he needed apparently, to earn the upper hand here. Because in a moment, the room was spinning and then I was the one being crowded against the wall, fury be damned.

Contrary to my previous endeavour, Matty’s touch was still as careful as ever, making it that much more obvious that I could slip away if I so wanted. But the question was whether or not I did.

“Matty–”

But he just carried on, as though he hadn’t even heard me speak, voice a low breathy murmur.

“I’ve been stuck in this endless loop. Driving myself mad.” He told me, his knee angled enough so that he could let his head dip towards the juncture of my neck, his mouth pausing by the shell of my ear whilst a finger gently trailed its way up over my hip. “Wonderin’ if I’d lost this for good.”

My heart pounded in my chest as the ghost of his words tickled my skin, tensing when his nose ever so slightly grazed my jaw.

That finger of his continued to move, working its way up my torso, jumping across my ribs and up to the bone of my collar. My gaze was fixed on the opposing wall, on the mirror that framed my dazed face and the back of his head. My hand worked its way into his unruly curls.

“But you’re as stubborn as me, see.” Matty added, luring me in, “And I’m not the type to give up on a sure thing.” His words held enough bite that I snapped back to meet his stare, he tilted his head at me whilst I scowled.

“Excuse me?”

Matty smiled, lids heavy as his careful hand danced its way back down my front.

“And this,” He said, almost in a whisper, ignoring my retort as he hooked my leg around his waist, “This is a sure thing.”

A soft breath escaped me even as I batted his hand away, but he simply reached up to grip at my chin, touch tender even with the way his calloused thumb dragged down my lower lip.

I was slowly beginning to imagine that this was all a dream, something my sick mind had gone and conjured up in hopes to ignore all of the hurt he had put me through. Because this couldn’t be right, things couldn’t have fallen back into place this easily.

“Matty.” I tried again, firmer this time, but was captured by the look his eyes held, probably having understood the expression that must have just crossed my face.

“What did you do, Squeaks?” He asked me almost hurriedly, shaking my chin between his forefinger and thumb, my previous anger and doubt melting slightly as I leaned further into his touch. “Did you want me to hurt, too?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question, his swift change in topic. Baffled by the fact that he was now trying to pin this back on me.

Was that really what this was? I wanted to ask.

Matty didn’t give me the opportunity to say a thing though. My surprise had stalled me briefly, but it had evidently been long enough to allow him to simply carry on.

“What did you do, eh? Tell me.” He breathed before he pressed his mouth to my jaw, once and then twice, pulling away just as I tilted my head to accommodate him, “Did you go out, baby? Find somebody else? Or did you just stay here, waiting for me?”

I reeled back, anger spiking again. “Fuck you.”

Matty’s eyes flickered back and forth between mine.

“I’m trying to get you to.” He said, always so brazen and snarky, even in the moments where I hated him most. The hand I had previously slapped away went back to the leg he still had draped over his hip, snaking up over my knee and to my thigh.

My glare didn’t waiver, even as my breathing picked up at the pressure his fingertips wrought on my skin.

“Tell me no.” He finally repeated, eyes failing to meet mine. And how was I supposed to? When having him this close brought back that fire he’d put out in me, when he was kissing my neck so sweetly?

“We’ll regret it.” It was as close to a no as I could get, enough to have him pause. Matty looked to me then, his hold loosening on my body but still holding. Hoping.

“Do you care?”

I marvelled at the question, did I care?

I cared so much it pained me.

But he hadn’t meant it like that. That much I knew.

Do you care if you regret it? Because, what if you don’t?

With Matty there was always chance– he was the type to play the odds, to push his luck.

What if.

What if, what if, what if?

Shaking my head, I was forced to question if he understood me as much as I did him. If he could see each of my thoughts just as they dawned on me, flashing across my face like a story being told.

Then I wondered whether or not I even wanted him to understand. This, this thing we were doing would only further complicate things between us, but perhaps this could be a goodbye.

But, if this was a goodbye, why was he looking at me like that? Watching and waiting for me to truly answer.

Tell me no, he’d said.

Matty’s gaze swept over my face, as though trying to read me, maybe in hopes to find what it was he was really searching for.

Tell me no.

“Please.”

And my resolve broke at the word.

“Okay.” I heard myself say in reply, nodding quickly, and that was seemingly all the permission he needed before Matty was wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me towards him fully.

My hands floundered momentarily before they were back on his shoulders, his teeth nipping at my neck.

I moaned, eyes falling shut as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses down my skin, teeth scraping before his tongue swirled to soothe their angry ambush. I could smell him everywhere now, the shampoo I was so used to stealing, as well as the only aftershave he’d ever claimed to like.

His hips rolled into mine, pressing himself right against the fabric of my trousers and the underwear which had grown damp during our heated argument.

I didn’t want to linger too long on the thought of my body’s obvious betrayal, too caught up in him to think about how wrong this should all feel.

“Shit.” Matty groaned, breath catching with it as he continued to grind against me.

I gasped back, grabbing at him harder as he bit down on the curve of my neck. I nipped at his jaw in retaliation, nails digging into the skin of his back, hoping to leave a mark.

“I knew you’d miss me.” He grunted into the base of my throat, the hands which held my waist dipping beneath the hem of my shirt to explore further. “Even when you’re angry you’ll wait. ‘Cause no one else can touch like me.”

A whine bypassed my lips almost involuntarily as he continued to rut against me, I wanted to be angry- no, in fact, I was angry. But all emotion other than want was blurring at the edges of my mind now, being pushed further and further back by each eager kiss he peppered along my jaw.

“You really–” I jerked in surprise, cutting myself off with a short gasp when his hand slipped past the hem of my trousers, fingers pressing against the damp fabric he found there.

“What was that?” He provoked, and I could hear the smirk in his voice as he trailed over my covered clit, causing me to whimper before I was biting down on my lower lip. Matty didn’t like that much. “Come on, I wanna hear you.” He muttered, pressing a little harder, wanting a reaction. “Tell me.”

“You’re such a bastard.” I panted, head falling against his shoulder as my hips pushed further into his touch, seeking more.

Matty laughed, all breathy and lovely, mouth catching on the lobe of my ear before he hissed, “Yeah, but you like that about me.”

His hand was gone with that and I was almost tempted to ask, to even plead with him for its return, aching all the more now, enough that all I could think about was riding his fingers until I couldn’t think at all.

But then Matty was grabbing my waist again, his grip hard, firm, and I swallowed when he whispered into my ear once more.

“Jump.”

Without thinking, I jumped.

We collided, his mouth on mine and the two of us moving as though it was second nature. And in a way, it was. But it shouldn’t have been. I knew that. I tried to remind myself of it.

He shouldn’t be here.

But he was. Walking his way through my flat with ease, effortlessly missing each sharp corner and the miniscule step which led back into the hallway. He was blind, my hands in his hair as he manoeuvred us into my bedroom, throwing me down onto sheets that he’d never seen, let alone slept in.

I tugged him down with me, his hands moving to unbutton those fucking jeans he always wore as he worked his way back into my mouth.

He hovered over me after kicking them off, my head pressed to the pillows as his eyes roamed every inch of my face. “Beautiful.” He whispered, as though he hadn’t really meant to say the word aloud.

My breath hitched anyway but Matty paid it no mind, leaning in closer to kiss me again, slower this time around, though his hands were still quick, tugging at the hem of my top enough so that I got the hint. I lifted myself up, breaking away to take it off and toss it to the side.

Matty kissed his way down my neck again, following the trail of scars down my torso until his fingers paused to hook around the top of my trousers. I nodded at his silent ask, planting my feet a little firmer on the mattress so that they could follow my tee.

Matty stopped then, kneeling between my parted thighs, eyes caught on the panties I was wearing, and I could swear something in his gaze shifted as he stared down at me.

“Lace?” He murmured, fingers curling around my thighs tight enough to bruise as he pushed forward, closer to my face. “Really?”

It was a loaded question. Almost felt like an accusation.

I shrugged– I hadn’t meant to end up here, but it hadn’t been subconscious when I’d picked them out of the pile this morning. He liked the way they looked, had told me so one night spent at his when he’d talked me into smoking a couple joints with him sprawled out on his living room floor.

I opened my mouth to reply but Matty didn’t quite catch the motion, already busying himself with the task of pulling the lace down my thighs. His fingers, calloused from years of playing guitar, dragged alongside the black material rolling down my legs. I tensed at the feeling, zeroing in on the slow motion, then listened to him groan at the sight before they were gone completely.

I watched him pull away, balling the damp fabric up in a fist before leaning over the side of the bed to drop them on top of his jeans.

“A souvenir?” I couldn’t help but question, mostly out of mirth, but humour helped deflect from the weight I felt at having him here.

Matty hummed, fingers already back on me, trailing the length of my right leg before he was stretching his way back up again, head stopping between my parted thighs and nosing at a crease sat at the very top. He didn’t answer me though, instead choosing to shut me up with another gasp by dragging his thumb across my folds.

“Matty.”

“Hm?” He hummed again, having sat back on his heels to watch me squirm as he continued on. I shot him a rather annoyed glare.

“Take off your shirt and fuck me.”

His brows rose languidly when he flicked his eyes back up to meet mine, then tilted his head. “But I’m having so much fun.”

With a swift kick to his side, Matty’s hand fell away and he shook his head around the beginnings of a smile. “Always so demanding.” He tutted and before I could spit something back– probably about him being the biggest hypocrite I knew– he was placing his hands either side of my head and leaning forward so that his lips were right beside my ear, his breath fanning the shell of it. “You gonna beg for it?”

My breathing grew heavy as I watched him pull away, dragging a finger up the inside of my thigh before stilling ever so briefly and venturing on, up over my hip and then my ribs. He pressed a slow kiss to my chest, eyes flicking up to find mine as his tongue swirled over the skin, there and then gone.

“Come on–”

He huffed a quiet laugh, the force of it lighting goosebumps over my exposed flesh. “Come on, baby. Beg.”

I rolled my eyes, reaching up to grab at his neck but he was already dancing out of my reach. He jutted his chin.

“Matty.” I huffed.

“Yeah?”

I really wanted to throttle him, “Fuck me. I’m not asking.”

The corner of his mouth tugged itself up into a small smirk, “Good enough.”

A disbelieving chuckle escaped me, one which was quickly cut short by his wandering hands finding purchase on my hips once more, before he dragged me down the length of the bed, his mouth finding purchase on the swell of my breast.

He pressed fast kisses along the curve of it until his tongue flicked out over the nipple, causing me to gasp. My hands flew out to tangle themselves in his hair when he lapped it into his mouth to suck and I groaned at the weight of his hands cradling the curve of my back.

“Matty.”

He hummed and the sound sent vibrations rippling out across my skin, I fisted my hands into his curls harder.

Shifting until my hips found his whilst he lavished at my chest, I pressed up into him, both annoyed by the fact he was still clad in his boxers and pleased by the very visible wet patch I could see. I ground against him and the sensation elicited moans from the pair of us, his hands flying down to hold my hips steady.

“Patience.” He murmured, but I was having none of it, lifting a leg against his arse to spur him closer. Matty’s head jerked up at the surprise before he looked down at me and stared. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“You better hope not.” I replied, hands finding the hem of his shirt and dragging it off before he could fight me on it. “I’ll make it painful.”

“Counting on it.” Matty murmured back, hair now a mess, either from the clutch I’d had on it moments before or from the way I’d all but yanked his top over his head. “On all fours,” He said roughly, tapping my outer thigh twice. My already flushed skin heated further at the understanding of how he wanted to take me but– contrary to popular belief– I didn’t argue and rolled onto my stomach.

Palms to the sheets, I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, eyes trained on the headboard. I grinned to myself when I heard Matty groan at the sight, looking back over my shoulder only briefly to see him palming himself through his boxers.

“Don’t have all day, Healy.” I prompted after a moment passed, just before the mattress shifted beneath his weight. I heard something drop to the floor a second later before he was right up behind me.

I jolted a tad at his sudden touch, then was forced to focus on the way his hands slid over my hips with that same familiarity they’d always done, moving up to the swell of my arse to squeeze it before dropping back down to spread my legs further apart.

A moment passed and I was forced to wait in the silence he then gifted me, waiting and waiting until I finally went to say something. It was then that I felt a finger glide down my spine, dragging ever so slowly over my jumping muscles.

“Hands,” Matty then reminded and I was forced to blink away the haze I had drifted into, reaching up to grab onto the headboard just as I felt him swipe his dick between my thighs, guiding himself up over my folds, pushing past them so he rested at my entrance.

I let go of a rush of air, splaying my hands further against the headboard before he slammed into me without any warning at all, all the way up to the hilt whilst I cried out at the sudden fullness. “Fuck.” I hissed, head falling between my shoulders as I winced.

I breathed through the bit of pain that came with the thrust, acknowledging that Matty didn’t move an inch and instead keeping still, hands holding my hips even as he leaned over to whisper, “You good?”

His voice was surprisingly soft in the quietness that encased the flat, reminding me of other times we’d spent here, both like this and in other odd moments. It made my chest ache.

I took another moment to adjust to him before I nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

He hummed in turn but didn’t question it, just waited, thumbs circling the skin on my hips for a moment in a manner so gentle and yet so very Matty, before finally, he moved.

His thrusts were shallow and slow at first, his thumbs keeping the same steady tempo as they continued to soothe the tops of my hips. I moaned at the feel of him, before I managed to roll my hips back to meet his own, enjoying the sound that escaped him.

“So good.” He said, hand sliding further up my side and towards my ribs before I was titling my head back and Matty was holding a fistful of my hair. He just held it for a bit, forearm pressed against the skin of my back before his thrusts began to grow harder, tugging more and more.

The room was quickly filled with the sounds of our groans along with the bedframe rocking against the wall and I praised all the Gods above for the fact that there were currently no neighbours residing in the flat beyond it, before I was quickly swept up once more in the thick scent of sweat and sex. Matty fucking into me with a desperation I’d never quite experienced from him before.

I panted beneath him, nails digging into the wood of my headboard whilst he picked up the pace.

I couldn’t quite focus on anything but him. His breathy whispers, his fingertips which dotted my skin, the feel of him rocking in and out of me. It was almost as though nothing else existed but this moment, even if I knew it would soon end. His thrusts getting sloppier, his grip tightening, his murmured praises increasing by a tenfold.

“Come on, baby.”

I liked when he called me that.

Made me feel special.

But that thought soon soured. Because, was I really?

How could I be anything special when my whole life I’d been nothing but a doormat for people to walk all over? I couldn’t help but think that Matty would be the same, like he’d gotten too close and finally seen what everybody else already had.

“Squeaks, baby. What do you need?”

I whimpered at his ask, tears collecting in the corners of my eyes. “I–”

What the fuck did I need? It wasn’t meant to feel so loaded, that question. But it felt as though the walls were now closing in. Because was this it? Was this the end?

“I–” I tried, feeling Matty’s fingers slip from the ends of my hair before a gentle palm laid itself flat on the small of my back.

“So good for me.” I heard him say and I moaned at the slight praise, breathing harder as he continued to mumble mostly to himself, “So pretty. So good.”

I was almost there, back arching under his palm as the other moved away from the right grasp it held on my hip, fingers finally finding my clit, knowing exactly what I needed.

“Yes.” I panted as the combination of his hard thrusts and steady hand sent my head into a dizzying pool of water, “God, yes. I–”

I think I screamed as I came, his fingers working deftly whilst mine clung to the headboard, body trembling as I fought to keep myself up. But Matty was there, holding me long enough so that he could reach his high and pull out with a loud grunt, coating my inner thighs.

We stayed there for, I don’t know how long, until he finally released me, falling away whilst I slumped forward onto the pillows before us. He followed a second later, still catching his breath as he stared up at the ceiling. I watched him, eyes hidden behind my forearm and a sprawl of hair that had fallen over my face, content to soak in what I could of him. What I had left.

Then Matty shifted beside me, I half expected him to get up and leave with some half-arsed excuse on the tip of his tongue, but he paused when he caught my heavy gaze. I let my eyes trail over the side of face, on the tired circles settled beneath his lash line and the slope of his nose.

He looked back towards the ceiling.

“You got your souvenir, remember?” I found myself saying, stupidly, voice just above a croaked murmur, “Don’t let me keep you.”

Quiet. And then, “Do you want me to?”

I knew what he meant, but still I asked, “Want what?”

Matty’s head slowly turned towards me, eyes guarded and peering over at my devastated form. I wondered what he made of me right then, if he thought anything at all.

When he offered me no words, I refused to add anything either and felt what was left of my heart crumple up into a pitiful bundle when he pushed himself to the edge of a bed with a barely there sigh.

The air in my lungs caught as I watched and waited, eyes trailing after him as he rounded the bed frame to pick up his discarded boxers. I let them slip closed again, not wanting to watch him leave.

I listened to his feet pad across the hardwood floors and out of the room. My chest ached with every step but I didn’t dare stop him, burying my face further into my pillow.

I laid in wait for the front door to open, for there to be a clue to his evident departure, but then the footsteps returned. I didn’t dare give myself false hope, knowing he must have forgotten something to have come back. But the padding continued, closer and closer until they were back by the bed and I held my breath as it creaked, my eyes stinging just as I felt a warm damp cloth press against my inner thighs, wiping me clean.

I choked on the sob that wanted to escape me and the cloth paused for a split second before venturing on. I waited, wondering why he was doing this, why he was dragging it out.

Just leave already.

But then the cloth was pulling away again, and the bed was creaking again, and the tears, they wouldn’t stop.

Stay.

Please just stay.

I gasped into the pillowcase, stomach tensing with the strength to keep quiet. To let him leave quietly.

I wouldn’t cry.

And then there was quiet, at least for a moment or two, before the bed dipped once more and there was a hand in my hair, combing the strands from out of my face and tucking them behind my ear.

When I opened my eyes, he was still there. Dressed and ready to go, but still sitting there beside me. Whilst I laid bare, curled up into a ball to better protect myself from his knowing gaze.

Suddenly everything hurt. Suddenly I felt exhausted and was falling apart at the seams.

Matty moved carefully, stretching toward the foot of the bed before returning with the sheet to cover me up, laying it gently over my trembling shoulders. He leaned in to press a slow kiss to my forehead and then went to move away again.

My hand caught his wrist.

And then I was flat out sobbing. Hysterical even. Crying into the pillow almost soundlessly as I gasped to try and catch my breath. Because I wanted him to stay. I needed him to stay.

Not just for me. But for Teddy. And for the life he brought into my dreary flat. To the kindness he never failed to gift me.

I needed him to stay.

I needed him.

I opened my mouth to ask, to let him know. But I could hardly even bear to look at him, blurred as he was through my onslaught of tears, Matty still held the key to all but destroying what little I had left.

His hand returned to my hair, fingers tangling themselves in it, a sudden contrast to the rough grip they’d held there earlier. And then he settled further onto the bed, back pressed against the headboard whilst he continued to run his fingers through my hair.

The tears still flowed but the sobs came less and less, until I was blinking at his shadowed figure in the dark, holding out hope that somehow he’d just know and he’d stay.

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mikuni14 · 7 months ago

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Wandee Goodday - Ep 1

The long awaited first episode of Wandee Goodday is finally here, I'm sure I wasn't the only one who had been chanting "save me Wandee Goodday, Wandee Goodday save me" for the past few months lol

What I liked:

lots of humor, especially in the 4/4 part I laughed non-stop, although I must admit that a lot of the laughter was from second-hand embarrassment 🙈

Great and Inn are just beautiful (it's good that Great has loose clothes now, I was always worried about the buttons on his super tight uniform in MoD, fighting for their lives)

Thor and Fluke are also lovely, I really like the fact that their characters are already a couple and are completely in love with each other (and horny for each other 🔥) and so open about it

side characters add a lot to scenes, even if they appear for a moment, like a salesman offering technical advice on sex, or a doctor who sprays water on naughty subordinates, also nurses!

I really like Dee as a doctor, as an employee who doesn't let himself be treated like shit by clients and as a friend. He is nice, strong, confident, reliable and capable. Which is in stark contrast to how hopeless and lame he is in his love and sex life 🙈

I like how Yak and Dee felt an immediate physical attraction to each other, which is fighting against an equally immediate strong dislike lol The natural flow they have in their relationship: from physical attraction, through fights caused by negative circumstances, to the night spent together shows that this kind of relationship can be done, without humiliation bordering on bullying, as it's between Phum and Peem in We Are

I really like Yak who can just… stop when he has any suspicion that his partner is not fully in the moment, not fully sure. It was so cool, no forcing Dee to continue by putting pressure on him, making him feel "guilty", no awkwardness, complete chill. I like it when sex is treated so casually that even if nothing happens, the partners just sit and talk and there is no sense of pressure, everything is just so... normal and chill. I loved it.

Kao as a friend, a sidekick, a "token lgbt friend of the main character" 😄, who has his own life and although he is very funny, he is not a serial clown and comic relief, as is often the case. And he is asexual with credible dating problems. So interesting! Also: Drake 💖

I feel kind of vindictive happy that my most hated trope, wiping food from the mouth of the "love interest", is shown here as messing with Dee and giving him false hope for a relationship (?) The day this trope dies will be the day I win. I plan to get drunk when this happen hehe (vain hopes, of course, this disgusting trope will never die)

What I have a few, teeny-tiny reservations about:

at this point I don't really understand Ter's motivation: was he deliberately seducing Dee, or was he just too chummy with him, which he misinterpreted? Not that it matters tho...

8 years of all this? oh Dee… 🙈 (I love how Kao described this pathetic situation in just a few words)

I also don't really like making Dee a silly kid and a 🤡 when it comes to love and sex, especially since he's shown in other scenes where he's a full adult. He's a grown man with a serious profession, so it felt weird watching him as if he were a 15-year-old kid in a slapstick comedy. I get that there's a comedic element to it and it was funny and I was laughing, but the amount of cringe and second-hand embarrassment was downright overwhelming at some point. What is fine as convention in MSP or Only Boo no longer looks so good in series about adults

the comedy of the sex scene completely stripped away the hotness of these scenes, ngl

the above comments are not complaints, they are just loose observations. It was only the first episode after all 😉

Overall, the series started well, I had a great time watching it, I laughed a lot, the characters are cool and very attractive, Great has the body of a young god 🔥 I can't wait for their first kiss and a truly hot night - with fun, but no comedy. What a wasted opportunity for them not to watch MANNER OF DEATH and the uniform buttons! hanging for dear life! Like seriously, it was right there 😤

The series is very pretty, just look at those aesthetic shots in a public toilet:

Omg, this guy:

Me:

Me 🤝 Dee about coffee:

(I shouldn't pick on Dee, if someone brought me coffee just the way I like it, I'd be as stupid as him 😑)

One of my 457,869 screen shots of this man, gosh, he's so fine:

#wandee goodday #thai bl #bl drama

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euopligue · 1 year ago

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Them playing Minecraft

Modern Au | pls don't repost | srry if there's any spell/grammar errors | Warnings: swear words

___________________________________________________________________

☆Rengoku

• he would eat the bread he had in his inventory even if his food bar was all the way up

• I could imagine him greeting the villagers and introducing himself to them even though he knows for sure they won't introduce themselves back.

• He would be the type to make a house inside a mountain

• I'd imagine him having a pet chicken

• He'd have a farm full of carrots

• when yall would play together he be the type to give you a whole ass tour of his farm

☆Giyu

• his number one goal is to find diamonds and make a full set of armor with them

• Ngl idk how he does it but he can take down a skeleton whitout any damage 😱

• he would have 1 pet dog just so he doesn't feel lonely

• Istg every time his dog would die he would start blaming himself

•" See giyu first your sister than sabito then your own Minecraft dog and yet you couldn't protect them" would be the words going all over his mind

• when yall play together it be kinda chill ngl

• yall would go everywhere together

• he would be the type to make a house next to a river or a stream of water

☆Muichiro

• he always forgets that a creeper can blow up

• Once he was fighting a creeper and BOOM he died

• that's why he has a cat with him at all coast

• he would be the type to steal the stuff from the villagers while not giving a sh!t

• hes the kind to try and tame a fox

•he finds Minecraft foxes cute

• he would also be the type to spawn iron goblins as body guards

• number 1 thing yall would do together is go mining

• like he would go for the diamonds and you would go for the coal and iron

• He gets RAGED once he dies to an enderman like he keeps forgetting to put his pumpkin mask on

• he has this thing when yall would do a competition of who can steal the most stuff from the villagers

• he finds those little slime blocks adorable

• fvck houses he would have a tree house

☆Genya

•Nah this bro LEGIT wouldn't be scared to take down any monster mobs that in his property

• He'd be the type to rage everytime he dies

• Nah cause when he goes to a village and steal some of there suff and the villagers replies with a "üHhh" bro will start cussing the whole alphabet at them 💀

• he goes for the gold

• He'd be the type to have around 5 horses in his little barn

• idk I feel like he would hate spiders just because of the sounds it makes

• when yall play together it's kinda interesting cause like yall have this thing that's like "who can kill the most monsters"

• he would have abt 3 dogs i guess

• he likes showing off so he would try and defeat an iron goblin to impress you

• so pretty much he takes Minecraft seriously

☆Mitsuri

• she can't stand survival mode

• like shes scared of the monster mobs

• so she goes for creative mode

• she loves all the animals in Minecraft and finds them cute

• she would have a beehive for the bee's

• and an army of cats 💀

• when yall play together you guys would try to make houses

• not any other house but a mansion of a house

• ofc she would have a lil garden

• and yall would be gossiping gurly stuff while playing Minecraft

Was playing Minecraft to the thought of this hoped yall enjoyed <3

#muichiro x reader #tomioka giyu x reader #kny x reader #kny x y/n #muichiro x oc #muichiro x y/n #kny season 3 #knyedit #genya x reader #mitsuri x reader #kny rengoku #rengoku my beloved #giyuu x y/n #giyuu headcanons #muichiro x you #kimetsu muichiro #kny muichiro #kny

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sussyscurryscorpio · 2 years ago

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Scorpio Placement Observations

(This picture doesn't belong to me in any way) (These may apply to 8th house placements too. Tell me if it does) (I won't make another post for Saturn and Jupiter. I'll include it in some astro-notes post briefly, if anything)

For Moon, Venus and Mercury, click here

SCORPIO SUN:

~Okay so, I won't typecast anything but Scorpio Suns are generally more comfortable around their male besties than their female counterparts? Like they don't get the girly shit or they don't like it all the time? But with the "bros", they get the homie feeling? You know?

~I feel people mistake Scorpio Suns a lot to being introverted and like ✨mysterious✨. Like, most Scorpio Suns (Tropical and Sidereal) are pretty chill, and ambivert, if not extraverted.

~Tropical Scorpio Suns are Sidereal Libra Suns. And well, out of all debilitated signs, this one is the least, well, difficult. A weak sun is good. Imagine looking at a very bright sun. It hurts your eyes, that's what it does. In the sign of Libra, it makes the native very diplomatic, very calm, very creative (fine arts or creative writing too even) The IT-girl placement? These people are so well liked. (Maybe the girls are envious from these people?) The guys who have this are so aesthetically pleasing to my Libra Venus. I see you🤍

~Sidereal Scorpio Suns are Tropical Sagittarius. These are the people who might be your stereotypical introverted, mysterious people, but that's generally because of an underlying insecurity, trust me. These people have a no-nonsense approach in life. Like if you're gonna bring me down, rightfully, fuck off. I'm not here for your shit.

~Well, as a Scorpio Sun (Sidereal) myself, I'm the biggest ambivert you'll ever find. I'll be an extrovert with the extroverts and with my introvert bestie, I'm a mild introvert. Haha, she makes me introvert. I love her.

~Also, most Scorpio Suns befriend other Scorpio Suns? I used to lose my mind when I first came across zodiacs. All my friends were Sagittarius Suns (Tropical). Like 5 of them, the closest ones. Or they were Scorpio Suns (Tropical). I didn't know about Risings then, let alone Sidereal. So, I used to always wonder why this is. Now, I know.

~I used to befriend Sidereal Scorpio Suns (Tropical Sagittarius Suns), and those were the closest ones always. I was myself always with them. Other Scorpio Suns always brought out the real me or a part of me I wasn't very open. True Vibe Soulmates, ngl.

~As for the Sidereal Libra Suns (Tropical Scorpio Suns), that was mostly because I have prominent Libra Placements so, comforting.

SCORPIO MARS:

~Tactical. Freaky hotties. Intense. Bold. The perfect "Lady in the streets, freak in the sheets" placement.

~Not an observation but I wanna fuck a Scorpio Mars. At least once in my life. Call it my fantasy.

~You guys and your strong ass willpower has me weak in the knees. You can commit? A person in today's day and age who can friggin commit? I want it. Please. Take me in.

~Like when you decide to do something, you make sure you do it and that you do it better than any other motherfucker. You go study the depth of the subject and know the roots, like real focusing on the "how"s and the "why"s. "Why is Sodium a soft metal? WHY SODIUM, WHYYY?!!"

~See. The simple logic behind this is Mars is domicile in Scorpio. It's comfortable here. It's in its element. It will show its full effect now. And what does Mars represent? Passion. So, these people are passionate towards whatever they do. And when you do something passionately, you become the friggin best in it.

~Um, you know, with Mars, the Sign is one part of it. I feel more important is the house it is in and what planets are aspecting it. But since we're not discussing that, let's not digress.

~Sex is important? Fuck no. Sex is IMPORTANT. How will you know if you can mate this person for life? Sexual compatibility is essential for you guys. And it's understandable too. The blending of souls through the bodies is utmost to show the love you feel. Words? Mean shit. Actions? Speak louder.

~I don't remember where but I heard this from an astrologer that the difference between Aries Mars and Scorpio Mars is their approach. Aries is represented by the Ram. Scorpio, whereas, is represented by the Scorpion itself. So, when a Ram attacks, it does with its horns. Face to face, head-on confrontation, while a Scorpion does it with its sting, which is on its back.

~What I'm trying to say is when you wrong a Scorpio, they won't react immediately. They'll be like "Oh. Okay" and months later you find all your friends falling out with you, people knowing the shit you did and then you realise, it was the Scorpio Mars person's doing. So, these people will take their vengeance when their enemy would be at their fucking lowest.

~And these people hold their vendetta forever. Forgiveness? What the fuck is that?

~You guys make elaborate plans. Like Money Heist level plans. On a smaller scale could be, um, Mass bunking college or Dating your shitty ex's enemy/best friend as a revenge? Just ideas.

~NSFW: You might have a breeding kink. Just saying. You're all dominating ASF. Everyone. No switching. Just Dominants. Dominatrix. Idk. But you are.

~If you want to manifest something important, like good body, work place stuff, like manifesting the passion, use the color black, purple or red. These are the Martian colors. Red is more for Aries but works. I did it with a blog of mine. Customised it full red. It became an overnight hit.

~Oh and did I tell you you're hot? I'm sorry. You're hot. As hell. Femme Fatale Vibes. Like you can tell me Jennifer from Jennifer's body was Scorpio Mars and I'll believe you. A harshly aspected/placed/afflicted Scorpio Mars gives me Joe Goldberg/ Love Quinn vibes from You. I mean, especially Joe Goldberg cause Scorpio Mars can get stalkerish. It depends on if it is receiving negative aspects from nodes. Like I said, with Mars, sign is secondary. Primary is house and other planetary aspects on it. Not all Scorpio Mars will be Joe Goldberg, come on.

~This happened in another post of mine when I said something about Aquarius Sun and being Hitler-like as an example. Not all Aquarius Suns can be or will be Hitler. One placement does not define you. If it did, you won't need aspects or house systems for it. Pfft-

SCORPIO LILITH:

(I wasn't going to write about Lilith but @lavenderundmintt asked me in the comments, so here goes nothing)

~Honestly, I desperately try to find sources on how to interpret Lilith myself cause whatever I've read never made sense to me based on my placements. I have a Lilith in 1st. And many parts stay, well, conflicted. I'm no Mary Sue in parallel universe as many suggest but whatever. This will be a little shorter. I don't want to fill large paragraphs at the cost of inaccuracies.

~Lilith Scorpio people, I believe, may have stalker-ish boyfriends or lovers? See, with Lilith, you'll experience everything about the sign its in. The roles reverses.

~I just discussed it with a few people how people obsess hard over Scorpio Lilith people. Hookups reaching out, past lovers having difficulty moving on from you. Breaking up then coming back to you? Stalking you on social media? "I'm sorry. I'll change. I'll be better."

~Um, not sure about this but, you might feel uncomfortable in accepting your sexual-ness? Like, maybe, you find sex something taboo or disgusting? Or even to the extent of being Asexual? Or insecure in bed? Its okay if it is true. Many people do and are. But I just, what I'm saying is that after puberty or losing your virginity, you could've find it hard to accept your sexual urges. You could feel unclean/dirty. Might not masturbat3. Reason could be anything, I won't mention any triggers cause triggers are real. If it resonates, you get it and I don't have to say it out loud.

But, I'm just saying. I could be totally wrong here and I'm sorry if I am.

~Oh and this doesn't mean you are unsexy or people don't want to fuck u. You exude a very high, unresistable, sexual aura, many-a-times without realising it.

~You're maybe very submissive? Again, you may not be if it's in, say, 1st house. But just saying, you could attract people through your submissive side. Or "innocence" or "Purity" or wtvr bullshit guys these days find attractive.

~Oh and another very prominent thing I came to know from the discussions. Eyes. Something with eyes that you guys do which drive people insane. Like, you have very hard-to-not-notice eyes. There's power in those eyes which is like very magnetic.

~Needless to say. Lilith isn't a very positive planet. I've seen people discuss how traumas surrounds this planet. And it being in the sexual sign of Scorpio could go anywhere. Not implying anything.

~But one thing I am very certain of. You're unavoidable. You draw people towards you. You're the ✨moment✨

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