#having the audacity to claim you care in the slightest but when I so much as mention it it’s the most major inconvenience of the century | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

originemesis · 8 days ago

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@ophidianthoughts xxx

The crescendo of doors cracked halfway off their hinges only serve to elicit the twisting of a smirk as wide as it is cruel. Not that there's anything particularly cruel in the truth- it just hurts. And it always would no matter how many illusions the devil would entertain just to convince himself it didn't have to. The man can think of few others that he'd enjoy watching that passing pain possess other than the someone who claimed to care - from one extended apple to a helping hand given above the grave it inadvertently dug for him. The audacity he had to spit in the other's face like this then? With his wings hurriedly hacked off and mounted above the fireplace- where was this devotion he apparently owed? Adam would tell the clown to try looking for it up his ass if he wasn't so sure that Pride Ring's proudest didn't have the room for it what with his head rammed up there and all -

And there's not even the slightest hesitation for that well past festered feeling, so when yet another 'catch' presents itself in the other's so called merciful act, he's not surprised. Annoyed- sure, but the white room searing his eyes doesn't help with that either. "You enjoy being a predictable prick, don't you?" He grumbles. Would even go so far as to go over every instance the other has dangled the idea of something more over his head just to yank it away when he jumped. But before he can lay into him, he's flung out- barreling through the long corridor and out into hell. The less enclosed version of it anyway.

"Fuck that clown bitch, this is definitely an upgrade." As much as a street full of brawling and blatant fucking is concerned compared to a room with apple themed everything. At least that's what he deems his truth to be. If the goal was to get him comfy with the idea of being some palace poodle, he's already decided it's not going to work. And it's with that attitude he totes as his only luggage. Well, until that quaint little nugget of information gifted to him about how no one would recognize him with an identity under devilish intervention is also yanked out of his almost grasp.

"Yeeeeah- I don't think they're over it. Fuck me." An out of breath remark taken halfway slid down a blood spattered brick wall of some back alley 'murder made dirt cheap' operation. Whether or not sinners recalled him by his clearly angelic attire or they just caught some whiff of needing to bash his kneecaps in past whatever Lucifer was suppressing, he doesn't know and frankly wouldn't care. If it didn't make getting a bite to eat such a fucking hassle. And it's not like he can just whip up a disguise out of nothing without his powers. Grimacing at the idea of being forced to find his way back to the Pride Ring dictator's pad just because he's sure there will be another fucking apple pie for him to contest with, he decides a much better option is to drag his ass to some bat inclusive bar since the lights are turned down so low, and get fucking wasted while filling up on the free bread. Yeah!! Easy shit. He makes sure to chew loudly too as a 'fuck you' to his long distance captor, figuring he's tuning in for another round of sinners relentlessly mobbing him.

Drinking in hell seems more appropriate than the reverse, though he's accustomed to a splash of wine here and there, so ordering something 'that'll fuck me up' probably isn't the best course of action. Not that he has one except avoiding that so called 'inevitably' in crawling back to scratch at a closed door. No way in hell is that fucking happening. But also there's no way in hell he's not getting jumped again once he's eventually kicked out of the bar. He needs a disguise... and apparently bat demons don't need coats because there wasn't a rack at the door for them. Mind already fuzzing around half-baked ideas by the time he's halfway through the second whiskey sour, he groans and face plants into the bar counter. There is that one thing he could- well...could he even? More importantly did he even want to when getting run down by riots seemed...far less cringe in comparison?

Mulling over it as another patron he can't see finishes up a screeching rendition of Limp Biskit on the only lit device in the establishment (save for his mask) - the kareokee machine, he sideways sips the new drink. Truth be told he's not even sure if he can manage the shift in hell regardless of Lucifer's meddling with his 'essence' or whatever the fuck. Still, it's not like forcing an archangel through a sinner shaped hole is going to change the result into anything other than what in it, so technically it could work...if he wasn't surrounded by everything that he hates. It's just fucking tragic that such a big dicked alpha Chad like him had to come into power that required a level of self reflection most would assume him incapable of, or at least unwilling to try- covered up and smothering all indication that a man still lurked behind a beast's hunker. And they'd be right...three whiskey sours that he can't pay for ago.

Oh well- at least the room's dark?

Some how it amplifies the fuzzies he's feeling along with the buzz of the microphone jolting up his wrist once talons close around it. A moment spent poking around the play options until it settles on 'CRINGE' later, he blows a raspberry to test the volume - which a resounding hiss from ceiling hung sinners confirms it's just loud enough. Whoever thought giving angels access to their fiercesome forms through pounding out power ballads- he'd like to find and exterminate them on the spot.

Resisting the urge to spit on the mic again, he begins with a flourish of talons and a "this one goes out to my dead, whore ex wife ~ whatever pit of hell she's locked in." And it's with that sentiment and the gentle rock of the sound leered at enough that someone would label it 'cringe' on the damn machine, the gathering of fuzzies in his chest just on the surface of the soul with its lock pad in place begins to commence.

"I might do this to myself Only made it worse, but I just can't help it-"

Slow crooning emissions like the frequency in a mourning dove's duress boom with the familiar bass he's used to emitting himself, but now relies on the machine's machinations to give him a pulse beyond the limits of the devil's whims weighing him down.

"Listen every day til the dark is back- now I pine for phantom pain..."

She really had to go and eat that shit, huh? Too bad she looked pretty while doing it. Of course anything made of him would be.

"It's the only time that I see your face."

As the tone in the timbre shifts, so do the fuzzies all latched onto his soul like millions of dandelion seeds all aquiver for the slightest chance to catch a ride on any hint of a breeze, though the hissing of bats overhead does little to stir one. "So just hold quick- you're fading right in a cold trick... of the light ~ "

They don't have to wait long for their chance once he blows with enough force to free each embedded pod and they begin their journey outward in the form of sparkling pollen-like particles that illuminates the darkness around him with the consistency of mist. The hissing grows fearful and retreats further back into the darker corners of the room as he rakes talons up in waves of flourishes through the glittery emission- each section of his arms burning with a platinum heat over every patch the dusting lands.

"I'm just so sick, I thought you might be here but you d-disappear." Without wings to catch all the lights, he twists and turns in place as if showering beneath the smallest spigot.

"Now I wake up and I forget that you are gone Phantom limb is all that I am hanging on So don't stop-" Drenched in gold, he sings as it consumes him.

"no stopping it yet. What if the the one true love's the only one that you get?"

Slowly the casing of sunbeams begin to shift and alter the man's rather unorthodox shape- stretching it longer and thinner in the neck, extending limbs and thickening paws in place of talons. The shape of a tail drops off the stage and trails off into the dark, pushing more of the bats back even further in their ceiling corner sanctuary. Once the form has nearly reached the rafters the light cooking it quickly disperses in one expelled bass boom sending vibrations through the cramped structure. The feet of a griffin dig in to the floorboards, leaving scratches that beguile the viciousness afforded a beast so long of neck and...fluffy.

"One love ~ one love...you get one love. One love, you get...one love, one love- you get..."

Soon the darkness of the bar is replaced with the all white sear of the featureless room he'd been cast out of however many weeks ago- the one he'd been warned he'd return to for any attempt to make contact beyond the veil of his extended prison, though he's yet to notice as he tops off the performance to seal the transformation, dragging claws sensually up through the silver tipped edges of bristled white fur and into the fluffier neck down splashed a shade of the A usually riding around on his gut, the hint of a frozen over pond at the peak of dawn present.

"One love...one love you get- One love." A golden gaze set in the same shade of his mask flit open, pupils immediately dilating to nothing at the harsh contrast from blackened bar to overly sanitized holdings. A weary blink or two later, he's plopping on the floor, head cocked carefully to one side as the tip of a spiny tail flicks side to side intermittently.

"Guh, what?" He finally snaps at the nothing, figuring it's not just nothing. "I wasn't asking for help- least of all at the fucking Bat Cave, loose Bruce. What gives?"

#//hehhh big chicken go floof #verse ; // dark without a dawn #divine beast ; // storge #long post #suggestive cw

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darkhorse-javert · 1 year ago

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This made me think of the last scene of 'Eternity Ring'.

Perhaps not 'false' exactly but certainly made under bent and barbed circumstances…

What Price?

It had been a very bad idea to get into this car, he had known it even before he had climbed in. Why do it? Even to himself, he could barely answer that question, except perhaps for the old adage, know thy enemy. Hilda Peirce, as she sat on the other side of the back seat of the car, was not- had never been - someone you should turn your shoulder, much less your back to. She has the audacity to be trying to recruit him into MI5 after this.

After using me for their own ends without the slightest politeness, instead blackmailing and threatening... After using Sam, using that sweet brave girl- no woman – as nothing but bait. Ripping into her world, causing me to rip into her world without a care for the consequences, beyond their own ends.

I wanted in to the Services in the war to help, to use my skills at their best for National Good. That was then, when it was do-or-die, and possibly die anyway if your fate was written that way. Now, now is enough. And Trust, why should I trust you, for all your praises, when you've twisted and deceived and hung a sword of Damocles against my neck?

“What about America?”

She sighs slightly, but calmly reels it off, that they have a contingency plan, that he won't have to be extradited, that they'll 'deal with' the FBI.

So this is how the game is played, is it Miss Peirce? You want me working, not enjoying peace. At what price do you set me? He addresses her, but does not look at her, this slippery woman

“There's a Polish airman out there, flew 40 missions for the RAF and as a result finds himself in a situation he doesn't deserve.” Could have been Andrew, that lad, no difference really except Andrew had a home to seek when he needed it, the poor boy has nothing but fear.

Her answer is whip-quick, not even a pause for consideration, “I'll see what we can do.” And then most surprising, the sense that she had actually looked at him, watching as he'd stated the young man's situation, “Anything else?”

“I'd need a driver.” It's a concession, it's an admission, and by the smile curling up Hilda Pierces face as she moves her face to look forward, she knows she's won him.

But you started this, you dragged her into this to get to me, remember that “You owe it to her.”

You get me, but only with Sam at my side, or not at all.

You started it Miss Peirce, you and your lot, but I also messed with her life, lost her her solid job with my poking, led her into the danger of that radiation (let her be alright), caused God-knows what wider trouble for her husband- where will that leave them financially, for prospectives don't get paid? “And so do I.”

A fine reward for five years of solid, exceptional, out-of-the-ordinary service you gave me I've given you now Sam.

Oh you make your claims over methods, Miss Peirce, immoral and cold that they are. You speak of trust, but I hold that in abeyance... we'll see, we'll see...

(also drawing from this bit of my own meta on same)

Write a piece about false alliances

#daily prompt #foyle's war #christopher foyle #hilda pierce #foyle's war fanfiction

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windblooms · 4 years ago

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liyue boys – how they touch their s/o

headcanons and scenarios of how childe, chongyun, scaramouche, xiao, xingqiu, and zhongli would romantically interact with their s/o.

gender-neutral reader. sfw scenarios for each character, with additional suggestive implications for childe, scaramouche, xiao, and zhongli (since they’re confirmed legal). 2309 words.

childe

the Touchiest of the liyue boys

he just really, really fond of touching you, whether it be with his fingers through your hair or having you a hand on your lap.

the first time he wanted to touch you, he actually asked (yes, verbally) if you were okay with him doing so

at least one of his acts with you could be orthodox, yeah? although, looking back on it now, he supposes that he was attempting to be a bit more serious and wasn’t sure how to convey the sentiment when his reputation often preceded him

since then, he’s made a habit to have you next to him at all times

you don’t mind, since his attention is admittedly nice, but understandably neither of you want to display affection towards each other in the presence of his coworkers.

if you were to be in public, such as walking down the streets of liyue, then he’d have his fingers laced between yours

if he were to be in a particularly good mood that day, he’d actually have you hook your arm around his. you’re not sure why – but maybe it’s because more of you would be pressed against him that way.

an avid displayer of fleeting touches. some are playful, like tapping his finger on your nose to get your attention, while others are slightly more teasing, like trailing his fingers up your thigh when you’re working and really shouldn’t be getting distracted.

“i can’t help it. your expressions are always the best part.”

so long as you’re next to him, he’ll find any excuse possible to have himself on you.

you’re cold? take his coat, but also a complimentary hug because wow he’s kinda sorta warm for a snezhnayan native.

got work to do? he’ll stroll over to you every once in a while, claim he’s checking on you, and then place a kiss on your cheek as “encouragement.”

just got home from a long day out? take some time to lay on top of him, he makes for a comfy mattress

his favorite ways to touch you: gloves off, thumb rubs against the back of your hand, hands cradling your neck or squeezing your hips in more passionate moments. especially enjoys contact the more of your body he feels. not sexual all the time, but definitely sensually pleasing. he’s reassured when he feels you next to him.

chongyun

chongyun is relatively inexperienced in acting out his romantic impulses.

hand holding? yeah, sure, he knows it’s what people do, but apparently there something about interlacing fingers . . . ?

also, there are different ways to hug? he thought that just wrapping his arms around your shoulders would be fine, but is there a specific instance where he should “back hug” you?

he thinks there should be a lover’s manual for how to go about with physical touch, but sadly there isn’t, and he’s left by himself to make sense of his confusion.

he’ll have to learn first-hand – something he quickly realizes he won’t mind.

chongyun’s touches will reflect his nature: gentle and initially somewhat shy, but he will gradually become more confident as time goes on.

the first time he tries to initiate hand-holding with you, you’re sitting next to each other on the couch

you can tell something’s a bit off by how he’s staring straight into your skull, as if he’s conflicted over something even when there’s nothing to be distressed about –

and he lifts his hand, hesitantly, and you swear that he’s shaking, before he mumbles something along the lines of “screw this” and just

places the tips of his fingers over the back of your hand and

just leaves them there

and you’re blinking, not quite sure what to make of his awkwardness, before connecting the dots when you see him absolutely red in the face.

he’s startled when he hears you laugh, and especially when you move your hand to securely grasp his own.

you’re warm, incredibly so, and when he looks up from his lap to affirm that he hasn’t made a complete mess of the mood, you’re there to give him a pat on the head.

“y-yeah. can we stay like this? hey! no, don't laugh – ”

the take-away: soft boy. will realize that he loves it when you squeeze his hands but will be flustered when admitting it. also internally enjoys it when you put your chin atop his head, and when you let him put his hand on your shoulder. will become more confident over time with showing affection, whether it be through light touches or shy pecks.

scaramouche

scaramouche is admittedly one of the more destructive harbingers

meaning he wouldn’t be one to be gentle in the slightest

probably doesn't even know that hugging is supposed to be an act of affection and instead registers it as another method to crush someone’s chest

the least likely out of the liyue boy to even be in a romantic relationship

but in the off chance that he is,

warm affection won’t be on the menu unless you’re in a dream sequence.

yes, he might not be as irritable around you. yes, he won’t immediately scowl at your presence, and maybe even request for you to be beside him once in a while.

but that is a far cry from assuming stable, healthy intimacy.

the closest he’s ever gone to touching you kindly is by pulling you towards him – nearly winding you with his forcefulness – and insisting that you play with his hair

(definitely a pushy one, and it would be endearing if not for the fact that he does not know how to interact constructively with others.)

so it’ll take time, lots of explanations and dialogue to tell him that no, he doesn’t have to be so rough with his grasp, and yes, it does bother you and you’d insist that he learn to be gentler before touching you again.

he won’t strike you down for speaking your mind – that’s exactly why he’s with you to begin with, since you were able to back up your wit with fight.

he’ll grumble, as if you had told him the most unpleasant of news (which you suppose you just have), but nonetheless attempts to mimic touches you would approve of.

scaramouche is, admittedly, easy to vex. while he might generally be a hassle to handle, the only time you do let him give in to his harsh tendencies are when you two are kissing each other a bit too hard or grabbing each others’ clothes too eagerly.

in other words, making out.

it’s obvious that he enjoys these more aggressive instances over the ones you’ve convinced him to be satisfied with. it’s an agreement that both of you have come to terms with: if he’s to command ask for little things, he better be respectful about it. but when you decide to reward him for exercising restraint publicly, it’s behind his door where you let him go unrestrained.

“so long as you’ll still let me do this, then i might tolerate your . . . other preferences.”

xiao

he’s not sure when you became more comfortable with one another, but for some reason he’s certain that it had to be after you commented on his hair

something about it being soft and appealing to braid – not that he would ever let you,

okay, maybe if you ask enough times. but for now the answer is definitely no.

anyways,

you were actually the one to ask to hug him first. he was a bit perplexed, wondering what you were thinking that prompted you to ask, but then realized that neither of you had been physically affectionate before.

as in, not even hand holding. or hand squeezes. or anything else that would be considered basic between partners.

as quickly as you asked, he affirmed that it was all right, and has since become attuned to your need for physical assurance.

something about him “feeling like home” and “safe.” at the time, he wasn’t sure what feeling like a home meant, however through time he realized that you felt like home as well.

soothing. as if automatic, he fits your body into his and holds the back of your head against his chest, lets you twirl your fingers in your hair, and carries you into bed.

under the covers, he feels more alone with you, as if the closed door isn’t already enough.

even in the dark, his eyes will roam all over your face, and he’ll run his fingers over your cheeks, down your neck, and over your collarbones.

he can feel you shudder slightly under his touch, and he’ll always stop immediately, concerned for your discomfort.

but when you take his hand to your lips and press kisses on his fingers, he’s relieved that he’s still doing right by you.

so long as you’re sure, he’ll continue his ministrations. whether it be holding your form flush against him as you drift to sleep, or crooking his finger under your chin so he can mold your lips together just the way you like, so long as you both know you’re safe with him.

in short: inexperienced, but always concerned for you. won’t do anything unless you ask or suggest, and even then, his care for you is more obvious than the wake of day with the sunrise.

“i’ll hold you as long as you let me – if you’d have me be with you.”

xingqiu

simple: dramatic.

if you thought that the novels he’s written have gotten to his head, then you would be completely right, because he does not miss an opportunity to add in some flair to your relationship.

produces a glaze lily out of thin air each time he greets you after your day of work, “fairest, this is for thou,” and has the audacity to look pleased with himself.

a nerd at heart, and you might unironically think it’s cute if not for the laughs he allows himself afterwards.

is always smiling when you touch, even if you’re just bumping into him accidentally.

it doesn’t take much to make him happy, you realize, but that assumption morphs into wow he just. really loves with his whole heart.

xingqiu’s a magnet when it comes to your shoulder, somehow always leaning against you when given the opportunity

you could be sitting next to each other at the table, or even standing up talking to other people, and he’ll latch onto your shoulder.

“i’ve got you right next to me. why not capitalize on the moment?”

absolutely adores it when you let him play with your hair. you’re not sure what it’s about, but after his obvious attachment to your arm, you just decided that he was a very physical lover and you’d be more than willing to indulge him.

if you come visit him when he’s reading or writing, he gets especially excited because!!! head rest!!!!

and consider yourself occupied for easily the next hour as he rattles off yet another plot of a novel, or attempts to woo you with sappy lines that he decided to mentally bookmark just to tease you with later.

in the instances when he isn’t occupying your lap or shoulder, he actually likes it when you lean on him as well, especially if you’re sleepy. he finds the whole act endearing, either you being too lazy to move to bed or finding him comfortable.

so long as you don’t tire of his antics, he’ll be sure to indulge you in the same.

zhongli

despite being what some would call oblivious when it comes to human interaction, zhongli is surprisingly romantically competent so long as you give him time to adjust.

he’s quick to notice things you like and hones in on them with relative ease. admittedly, the first time you hugged him, he was a bit stiff, but was actually the one to initiate physical affection the following time.

it gives you hope that there aren’t actually cobwebs still in that thousand year-old brain of his.

already a traditional man, you soon realize that he’s fond of more innocent touches, such as when you slot your fingers against his or unbind his hair to play with the strands.

he might even fall asleep if you comb his hair long enough, enjoying being spoiled.

forehead kisses!

at least twice a day, he’ll brush aside your bangs and place pecks on your forehead. if not your forehead, then definitely your cheeks.

lowkey wants to pinch your cheeks. you’re not sure why. maybe it’s the childish curiosity that peaks out of him every so often, and he’ll absent-mindedly comment that your cheeks remind him of crystal shrimp balls.

you’d stutter every time, finding his sense in compliments endearing yet flustering at once, and he’d just blink, the sincere man he is.

“but they do. flush with color.” a pause. “could i maybe have a bite?”

ah, yes, when he does want a bite –

his touches will be unbearably soft. so much so that you’re not even sure he’s real, with the tenderness on his fingers and warmth in his voice.

zhongli cherishes you as if he’s waited a thousand years for you. in the back of his head afraid that if he’s any more present then he might break you, as if he would ever capable of doing something like that –

he’ll have your thighs around his waist, body above your own and mouth leaving fleeting pressures along your neck

each time his lips press into your skin, he leaves sweet words behind.

he only wishes to enjoy the moments he has with you, so long as you enjoy yourself as well. zhongli will be attuned to your preferences, and take delight in spoiling you rotten – even if he might be a bit unorthodox with his speech, his sentiment is never in question.

#genshin impact #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #zhongli x reader #xiao x reader #scaramouche x reader #chongyun x reader #xingqiu x reader #scenarios #headcanons #short king will count as a liyue boy for now #can you see my zhongli bias? yes #italics need a break

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your-daily-biaswrecking · 3 years ago

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hii :)

could you do a drabble where the reader and yoongi were in an arranged marriage for a while. She thought that Yoongi cheated on her so she asked for a divorce. Yoongi as a cold husband pleaseee !! So Yoongi gives her a rough + angry sex ?? to prove he's not cheating? hehehhe

love all your writings btw, you have so much ideas to be posting lots in a day !!! :)

thank youu !

damn this turned out bigger than normal cuz-- plot... and i didn't want to write a pt2 so i'm just putting it under the cut and let's just still pretend it's a "drabble"

You didn’t remember much from that night. Just some general feelings, like how annoyed and lonely you were. How you needed your husband but he wasn’t there. When you woke up the next morning, head throbbing from your hangover, Yoongi was missing from your shared bed. And even though you didn’t want to assume things, when you noticed multiple hickeys on his neck later that day, you had no choice but to think of the only logical conclusion: your husband was cheating on you.

It hurt. Sure, your marriage had been arranged, so perhaps he didn’t really want to be with you. But somewhere in the process of it all, you had fallen for him. He was always serious and keeping his guard up around you, but there were moments that you thought deep down he was actually a nice guy. And that he cared for you. I guess you were wrong. Who would ever do such a thing to someone they care about even the slightest?

At first, you thought you could put it past you. This was more of a contract than a marriage anyway, from the beginning. But it hurt you every time you saw him, every time he did a tiny, little nice thing for you, like cooking you breakfast or texting you to let you know he would be home late. As if you two were actually a couple. It hurt you so much you needed to put an end to it.

“I want a divorce.” You didn’t wait for the right time or something like that, just blurted it out one evening right after you had gotten done eating in mostly silence.

Yoongi was still in control over his facial expressions, yet barely. A tiny frown, a tiny widening of his eyes gave his shock away. “What? Why?”

You took a deep breath, looking away to be able to keep your composure; looking at him made your knees too weak. “I agreed on this marriage. I agreed to try and make it work even though I knew it would be hard,” you explained. “But I will not tolerate cheating. I want a divorce.”

“Cheating?” His voice was low, truly confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I know, Yoongi. You don’t need to pretend.”

“What? I never-”

“I saw the hickeys you had all over you last Sunday.” The sentence shut him up, blank face taking its place over his shocked expression and you couldn’t read him. You gulped. “Or are you gonna claim those were mosquito bites?”

And then Yoongi laughed. Sound so contrasting to his usual attitude, sending chills down your spine. It didn’t last long, however, face serious again as he stared at you intensely. “Are you serious right now?” he barked, and you were starting to feel a bit scared. He took a step towards you. “You really don’t know who gave me those hickeys?”

You frowned, taken aback by his answer. “How would I- What does it matter?”

Yoongi chuckled again, reaching you across the kitchen until he was just a breath away. Looking down at you with dark eyes. “You were so fucking wasted that night, I guess I need to refresh your memory,” he whispered. And before you could even react, he lifted you up, legs straddling his waist as you yelped, arms snaking around his shoulders awkwardly as you were trying not to fall while he carried you to your bedroom.

“Yoon-”

“See?” he said, dropping you on the bed sideways. And his body loomed over yours. “This is where you laid while you were begging me to fuck you dumb. Do you not remember?” You gasped at his words, squirming in order to escape. But his hands were on your waist, pinning you down, and suddenly you knew the feeling wasn’t unfamiliar. This had happened before. “Now what?” Yoongi growled into your ear. “You want to divorce me because you were sucking my neck and I was too weak to pull you away too fast? I did. It was so fucking hard but I pulled away and left because... I told you many times that if this was gonna happen, it should happen the right way. Not when you are black-out drunk. But you were crying and telling me how badly you wanted me. I had to jerk off alone because of how hard you got me with your begging. Was that all the alcohol talking? You didn’t even look at me the next morning.”

You had never heard him talk so much. And your face was burning as that night got clearer in your memories. As the realization that Yoongi wanted you as much as you wanted him settled in. “Yoongs, I-”

“No, shh…” He placed a finger over your lips. “You really have the audacity to think I’m cheating on you when all I’ve been doing is falling for you? Trying to turn this marriage into something actually nice? I’ve been trying to fuck you for so long, you really think I give a shit about fucking anyone else?”

The way his words affected you was surely clear to him as well. Your legs tried to close, yet only resulted in caging him against your hip harder, pushing him down until you could feel his hard dick through his pants. “I- I didn’t know, I…”

Yoongi ground down on you harder, breath unsteady and hot over your lips. “Tell me now, once and for all,” he whispered while his hands started roaming over your body, not even touching you anywhere specifically yet making you gasped with every graze. Distance between you so short it was intoxicating your brain. “Tell me if you want me to stop right now, and I won’t bother you again. Otherwise, I will not stop even if you’re begging me later.” His voice was so coarse you could tell his brain was rotten with want as well. Staring at your lips, waiting for the green light to devour them, probably barely registering anything else.

“Yoongi,” you whined. “Need you… Don’t stop…”

His mouth on yours was such a relief, lips and tongue soft as they played against yours. It didn’t last long before he was groaning, backing off to pull your shirt over your head aggressively, discarding his as well, and grabbing you by the waist to push you further up the bed. His skin was hot on yours, his mouth instantly back on your neck, giving you the treatment you had given him that forgotten night. And his roaming hands found your pants to pull them down while you were distracted. One slipping in your underwear to steal a touch of your center.

“Fuck,” he choked. And then he grabbed a fistful of your hair to turn your head to look at him. “What a nice, wet pussy. And you really thought I’d wanna fuck anyone else’s?” He looked mad when he pulled your clothes completely off you, getting naked as well. Hand wrapped around his thick member, allowing you only one glance before he was over you again, tip brushing against your entrance. “Let me show you, baby,” he rasped, and you were mewling under him. “This pretty pussy is mine, this is the one I want.”

“Yoon…” Your whine was interrupted when he pushed into you, not giving you any room to get used to his dick. His lips were on yours again, hand on your hair pulling it harshly as he started thrusting into you right away. You felt euphoric, your husband finally fucking you hard after all this time of suffering the sexual tension alone. And your fingers scratched his back while moans escaped into his bruising kiss.

Yoongi gave you a few very deep thrusts, hitting your cervix and making you cry before he pulled away again. “Feel that, baby?” he groaned. “Feel how well I’m fucking you- that’ll shut you up, won’t it?” He pulled out, grabbing your hips and flipping you around with no warning. He grabbed you by the ankles to drag you closer to him, and then slapped your ass hard.

“Ah, Yoongi!” You raised your ass higher, on your knees while your face was buried in the sheets.

“That’s right, baby,” he said in a low voice. And he spanked you again. “Scream my name.” Another spank, softer than the others, while he stroked and kneaded your ass. “Scream your husband's name to let everyone know who’s fucking you so hard.” And he buried his cock deep inside you again. “Scream my name to remind yourself that you have me, baby.”

You were a panting mess. Your orgasm building inside you so wildly that you felt like you were about to combust instead of cum. And you dared sneak a hand down to rub your clit while you were moaning his name like a prayer. “Oh, Yoongi, please… Fuck, please…”

He smacked your hand away when he noticed, growling and grabbing your hair to pull it until your back was arched, mouth coming right next to your ear to whisper dangerously. “If you’re gonna cum, you’ll cum because of my cock inside you. Got it?”

You were nodding immediately. Although you were probably gonna cum because of his deep voice and harsh dirty words. “I’m gonna…”

“Good girl,” he growled, diving his teeth in the side of your neck. And it was what did it for you, shouting out while your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your vision turned black, pussy pulsing frantically around him.

“Shit,” he gasped, hips faltering. Then he let go of your hair only to grab your neck from the front, still pulling you back to have his face buried in your nape. “Gonna let me paint those pussy walls white with my cum, baby?” And you were moaning again at that, feeling like you were gonna cum again before you even came down from your previous high. Yoongi smacked your ass abruptly, making you yelp and give him the permission he needed. And he hummed, satisfied, his hips finding the rhythm he needed to finish. “My lovely wife,” he whispered sweetly even though his actions were anything but that. “Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you good all the time. Just so you know I don’t even have the fucking time to be seeing anyone else.” And then he spilled into you for the very first time.

Masterlist

#bts #bangtan #min yoongi #request #yoongi #suga #drabble #smut #arranged marriage au #yoongi drabble #yoongi smut #bts drabble #bts smut #suga drabble #suga smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #suga x reader #suga x you

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minniepetals · 4 years ago

Text

wine

— summary: you’re filled of surprises when drunk

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: fluff

— word count: 1.7k

— warnings: drunk y/n, alcohol consumption

— a/n: i’m sorry i’ve been gone for a while and then just put on this content that’s basically jimin centric. forgive meee (literally just came up with this idea)

"Okay, that's enough for you, pretty girl."

The soft mewl of whines immediately escapes from your lips the moment Jimin takes your cup from you and holds it far away from your reach. Your brows crease together, lips jutting out into a pout, and your eyes begin to tremble with sadness as two little hands come around to reach over the man who had stolen your drink from you.

"But I wasn't done," you complain as your head falls into a hazy dreamscape where you ignore everything else around you and throw all your manners aside, eyes set right on the cup Jimin holds in his hand. You hold yourself against his shoulder as your free hand reaches out for the cup, only his arms are too long for you to stretch that far, so the next thing that surprises them is the way you're quick to climb onto his lap without hesitation. The lady that's usually so quick to apologize for even the smallest inconvenience and blushes instantly at the slightest intimacy is surprisingly much bolder when she is intoxicated.

The rest of the guys surrounding the two of you in a circle of the living room simply smirks at the amusing sight while Jimin himself blinks at the fact that you're straddling him just for that half empty cup.

"Y/N." He clears his throat as he composes himself after a few seconds and hands over the cup to Namjoon without averting his eyes from you.

You on the other hand only care for your drink and is just about to climb off with your next target being the leader but Jimin is quick to grab ahold of your shoulders and bring you back to face him. "But Jim–"

"Hey." His tone is low, filled with dominance, but he can see how flushed your cheeks are due to the alcohol and the way your eyes glisten with innocence despite the position you are in. He almost finds himself wanting to just coo and give you all that you want but he knows that sometimes spoiling you too much isn't good for you. "You're our good girl, right?" He asks the simple question with a challenging raised brow.

You huff at the question and sit yourself steadily on his thighs with a pout and two arms that crosses against your chest. "That's not fair, you can't always pull that card on me."

"Oh?" The corner of Jungkook's lips tug into a smirk. "And why can't he, babygirl?"

"Because it'll automatically make me want to submit to him no matter what. You guys will always use that question to your advantage because you know I don't wanna be your bad girl and I hate disappointing any of you."

Yoongi chuckles at your complaints before settling himself back into his seat with one leg crossing over the other. "Is that how you see it?" It's not everyday you openly confess your feelings and they were definitely going to take some advantage of this situation.

"When you say it in a mean way, yes." You pout.

"I was mean?"

"Mhm!" You're quick to nod yet they simply chuckle lightly at your accusation.

"How so?" Jimin falls intrigued.

"You stole my drink and used that low, dominant tone on me."

"I did it because you've drank enough."

"But I can take one more," you insist as your arms unbind themselves and your eyes seek pleadingly into his, body lurching forward to him as your press your hands on his shoulders. "Please, Jimin. I can be like you, I can take my drinks well."

"Sounds to me like you're already drunk," Hoseok states.

"But I'm not!"

"Says every drunk person ever," Taehyung snickers.

"But I..."

Ah.

Those eyes.

It falls so cute and so sweet, pleading not only to Jimin but for the rest of them as well because you want something. You usually do this in an unconscious way, not realizing you look the way you do, in a way that makes it almost impossible for them to say no to, but this time they're pretty positive you know what you're doing. Drunk Y/N is a cheeky little thing who likes to voice out her thoughts and feelings much more than sober Y/N, it seems. And she isn't as shy.

"Can't I be selfish for once?" You ask in a small voice, the same one that sounds like you're about to hide from them as if they had done something terribly wrong.

But maybe because you're drunk, you're just playing with them and is not that serious.

They hope that's true so Jimin takes the bait and sighs. "Alright, I'll allow you to be selfish this time around but only because you're the most selfless person to have ever existed." The way your eyes light up as your head perks up almost makes them want to laugh at your sudden mood swing. "But no more alcohol," he states sternly.

"Aww man," you huff. "What else can I ask for that's better than that?"

"I'm sure you can think of plenty of things, little one," Seokjin grins.

"Fine, then I..." They observe you carefully as you search around the room when your sentence trials off, lips pursing while trying to come up with something better than the reward of alcohol. Usually the you they know wouldn't even choose to look at drinks but it's cute discovering a new side to you. With your cheeks still flushed and your body still sat on top of Jimin, your head returns back to him looking quite confused as to what to choose.

Until your eyes meet his and a smile curls along your lips.

"Well?" He raises a brow. "Figured out what you want?"

"Mhm," you nod. "You."

Oh.

While Jimin sits there taken back with his mouth slightly open, the rest of them snicker at how their usual shy girlfriend is shamelessly flirting with him. It's quite a sight to see. The usually flirty man breaking composure at one single word but a part of them envies Jimin's position.

They want your attention too.

"Y/N." Jimin lets out an exasperated sigh when he sees the way your expression is nothing except innocence. Taking a moment, he sits back again, meeting your eyes. "What do you want me to do?"

"Well..." It seems you haven't gotten that far yet. But as they watch you think and think it over in your head, they also see the way your cheeks turn another shade of pink as your eyes fall to the floor, suddenly looking quite bashful.

Have you sobered up?

Perhaps not. It hasn't been that long yet after all.

Still, they guess drunk you still has some shyness in her no matter what type of alcohol tries to change her.

"I want..." You turn your head to the side, cheeks flaring as you bring your thumb to your lips and lightly bite on the nail. "I want to.." The last bit of your words were too incoherent to hear.

"What was that?" Jimin presses.

"Can I kiss you?" It's soft. A whisper.

"Huh?"

"Can I..." You look up at him again though this time your eyes aren't as brave as they were a minute ago. "Can I kiss you?" You repeat your words, a little louder, just a little, and he sits there, another surprise hitting him, before Jimin consents.

"Go on," he simply says and the rest of them watch as their shy little babygirl works up the courage to place her hands on Jimin's shoulders again.

Your eyes, though still filled with bits of bashfulness, falls with some hints of lust and Jimin holds your hip as you lean forward at a painfully slow pace that makes him want to just smash his lips on top of yours. But he's a patient man and you were the one who had asked to kiss him, not the other way around. And that of course also surprises all of them.

Drunk you is quite cute and adorable and she's full of surprises with hints of seduction.

You lean forward, face just inches away from Jimin's with eyes that do not fall away for even a second. They know that if you weren't intoxicated, you would have already closed or averted your eyes at this point if a situation ever had you in such a position. Namjoon laughs to himself at the reminder of those times when you'd like to shy away first before gathering the courage again to kiss them. So seeing you like this is definitely a new sight to see.

Something they all don't quite mind.

"Jimin." You whisper.

"Mhm." He hums.

"I love you." You claim his lips with your own. A sweet kiss that leaves him too soon but he keeps himself back from chasing those sweet lips of yours. "Can you say it too?" You plead with him when you look at him again, face still close enough to grant him another kiss.

He doesn't hesitate. "I love you, my sweet love."

Your hand drifts up to his cheek, your lips brushing against his as he closes his eyes. Jimin gives you a single squeeze on your hip and it's enough for you to claim his lips again. But rather than taking that lead that you had thought to bravely take, Jimin's the one to make you lose your breath when you part your lips for him. A soft mewl escapes your lips while the rest of the six has to sit through that torturous scene before them.

They're babygirl mewling and making them lose their heads.

Yet just as Jimin is about to snake an arm around your waist to pull the two of you closer together, your lips slip from his with your head following along before it falls right upon his chest. He blinks and the next thing he knows, he hears your breathing growing long and gentle and Jimin closes his eyes to take in that moment of frustration as he realizes you had the audacity to fall asleep in the midst of things.

Jungkook is the first to softly snicker when his hyung curses under his breath.

"What a tease."

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rodimissliveblogs · 17 days ago

Text

ANOTHER ONE ABOUT THE SOUTH. Every time I think about them nuking it entirely with a megablight I feel more and more insane. I try not to get so heated about fucking video games like this but. Hello. Hello. Last letter from the Inquisitor says that Redcliffe fell, and with it all of Ferelden, and the last holdout in that area is Skyhold. Hello. Hello.

Remember Dragon Age: Origins, a dearly-beloved game to me that I will not be able to replay without thinking "all of these locations, all of these people I come to love in this deeply interesting, expansive, and nuanced world? yeah I buy them 20 years of peace and then they're all dead in a megablight because honestly, truly, how much of Ferelden's population can you fit in Skyhold to shelter them."

Insane. Insane. I actually get madder every time I think about it. "Here's the end to a narrative you've waited 9-10 years for, we decided off-screen to nuke everywhere and almost everyone you knew and loved."

Hey. Hey Bioware. I just wanna - yeah I just wanna talk. Hey. There's a lot of the game I can shrug at and say "yeah, it's been 9 years in development hell, EA fucking sucks, they tried to turn this game into live-service and then Bioware had 3 years to rebuild it after that" but. But this. This choice. What. Why. How. How did this happen. Who came up with this. Who do I blame. Like. The devs surely can't have thought that was a good idea that players would be okay with, right? Right? Hello? Hello?? Can we blame EA for this somehow?? Did they say "we need this lovingly-crafted world to be accessible to new gamers, so dumb it all down and nuke everything you had before"? What kind of executive meddling could lead to that?? Because surely the devs can't have. like. thought this was good. insane thing to do to your fans if that's what you wanted to do with no external pressure?? Who do I blame. Who should I blame. EA laid off most of their experienced writers/Dragon Age team before the game came out. I feel like I need to blame EA somehow. They don't care. We know they don't. But I'm still. argh. You can't have been a dev on a long-running series and thought this was a good idea? Right??

Anyway it's such a huge, world-shattering thing they do by nuking the South and then it only comes up in one optional conversation branch and codex entries. Why's Harding talking about going camping in Ferelden. Ferelden is gone. The darkspawn nuked it all. Harding you were there when the Inquisitor told us that.

It's such an insane thing to do and then not address at all in the slightest in the narrative. Like yeah the gods are bad. Darkspawn are bad. Two archdemons at the same time are bad. It would cause a lot of death and destruction, yes. It's not unrealistic that the entire South would have such a bad time But if you're gonna commit to that, you need to actually care about the death and destruction in the narrative. Rook and the companions need to care! Not just never address it beyond a single side tangent with the Inquisitor! I dunno, if I was Rook, and I let these gods out, and they killed everyone in half the continent, I would be thinking about that a lot! Mention it to Solas, probably, that just like him, I've destroyed the world! But the fact that I spent three games there coming to know and love that part of Thedas, and the game doesn't care about it at all that it's all gone! The characters don't care! Insane! Enraging! I care! I invested so much into this world you've just wiped away without a second glance or even acting like you expect me to care. Hello. Am I crazy.

At least the fact that the narrative doesn't even bother to care about what it claims has happened will make it easier for me, and everyone else, to ignore, once I'm done feeling fucking insulted and enraged by the audacity of it. Which might take a while. Because every time I think about it I get more mad, not less. I'm not sure I've felt this actively insulted by a video game before.

I’m also definitely feeling able to like…formulate some issues with the game as I’ve been playing so much, and I probably won’t unpack those till the end and I see everything come together, but there keep being places that just feel…shallow. Like you had so much depth and worldbuilding and history through the series and you’re not engaging with the implications of it. Can we talk about the Dalish actually please. Can we talk TO the Dalish. Not the Veil Jumpers, just a normal Dalish clan. Why does everyone unquestioningly accept that the gods are bad. How’d that get out over the years. Why’d everyone believe it. Is that what Solas’ rebellion and network of spies was doing in between games. What happened to that network anyway. Surely there’d be some of the people who joined him over the years who’d be worried that he suddenly lost contact with everyone. Where’d that plot thread go.

And all the news about the megablight in the South and everything burning and being terrible is like. It’s the Ace Attorney escalation problem. Where the stakes keep getting bigger because they think that’s what it needs. I was fully invested in the fight for northern Thedas and the fates of my new friends and allies, you don’t need to say “ALSO EVERYTHING YOU KNEW AND LOVED DOWN SOUTH IS BURNING AND BLIGHTED AND ALL THE CITIES YOU KNOW ARE FALLING AND ITS ALL TERRIBLE” like okay jesus christ calm down. I guess that’s just them trying to justify keeping the Inquisitor out of the way. Had to give them some big problem too. But like. :/ you didn’t need to do that. I could be invested in stakes that aren’t that.

I’m having fun. I’m enjoying the characters. I like getting lore. But there’s a splinter in my foot.

Also why doesn’t Solas hate the Grey Wardens anymore. We’re talking about archdemons and their lore and there’s nothing in it that gives him reason to have been so freaked out at the wardens’ plan in Inquisition. What’s that about. Why’s he keep telling me we need warden help and not even a snide “they’re the best hope you have to fight the blight, not that it means much.” He’s a bitch about the wardens. Why’s he not being a bitch about the wardens.

#roddy plays dav #and there were several times in the last two ace attorney games that did make me feel insane and insulted #by them ignoring what came before. but they were just ignoring it. not NUKING IT OFF THE CONTINENT

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breakyeol · 4 years ago

Text

— SQUIRM, BABY.

You don’t like Doh Kyungsoo. Especially not when he’s got his fingers buried knuckle deep inside of you and your seeing stars —goddamn stars!— but can’t make a sound unless you want the entire library to know exactly what he’s doing to you under the table.

┗ Pairing: Tutor!Kyungsoo x Reader

Genre: college au, tutor au, enemies w benefits au, smut

Words: 4.7k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: strong language, sexual acts in a public setting, fingering

A/N; tomorrow is going to be my 1 year anniversary as an EXO-L!! oh my goodness that feels so crazy, time really flies. so here is a little present from me to you, enjoy lovelies!!

“These are all wrong,” Kyungsoo mutters blankly, “start over.”

A loud groan is ripped from your throat, the sound earning you more than a few sideways glares from the surrounding tables but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been here for two hours, studying one of the most intolerable subjects in the world: Calculus. The mere mention of its name made you shiver in disgust.

To be blunt, you’d always been shit at math. Numbers and equations were never your strong suit, not in high school and definitely not now with the added complexities of derivatives and differential equations (neither of which made even the slightest bit of sense to you). You much preferred the gentleness of literature and history to the strict logic and rules of mathematics and science. Unfortunately for you, the latter subjects were just as vital a part of your education, and opting out of them was not an option.

“Can’t we take a break?” You almost whine the question, pressing your fingers into your throbbing temples. “My brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“No.”

You scowl at the bluntness of his rejection. “I’m paying you.” You point out, stabbing a finger into his bicep for emphasis. “Shouldn’t I have a say in when we take a break?”

He rolls his eyes, swatting your hand away and shoving the paper back in your direction. “I’m giving you your money’s worth. Do it again.”

You let out a noisy huff of air, slouching over dramatically in the stiff plastic chair until your chin is pressed against the cold table. “I hope you know I am deeply regretting some of my life decisions right about now.” You grumble, shooting him an icy glare that you hope conveys the absolute loathing you feel for both him and the set of problems laid before you.

“I thought that was a daily thing for you.”

Scoffing, you bury your mouth in the thick sleeve of your hoodie. “Your face is a daily thing for me.”

He doesn’t even bother to look at you, though you could almost feel the intensity of his deadpan. “I think that was the shittiest comeback I’ve ever heard.”

“Your face is the shittiest comeback I’ve ever heard.”

“You do realize that that makes absolutely no sense.”

“Your fa—”

“Shut up and do your work.”

He either doesn’t hear or consciously chooses to ignore the colorful array of curses you grumble spitefully in his direction, though simultaneously resigning yourself to the fact that you won’t be able to put off your work inevitably. Kyungsoo was a stickler for proper time management. If he had an agenda set in place for your tutoring session (which he always did), then you better believe he’d be checking off each item within its designated time frame. And if you don’t cooperate— well then, your best bet is to pray that there isn’t a mechanical pencil within his reach.

He might not always be able to reach the top shelf, but Kyungsoo had ways of getting what he wanted. Usually, that chilling glare was enough to get those around him to bend to his will. He could be a scary little shit when he wanted to be. You’ll admit, even you had been the tiniest bit intimidated when you first met him. He was quiet, reserved, strict in manner, but also the dangerous unpredictable type, you gathered that much quickly enough. Maybe that’s why the two of you didn’t get on too well.

Where he was cool and standoffish, “a man of few words” some might say, you were more vocal about your opinions, social by nature, always eager to meet new people and make new connections. You had a tendency to speak loudly when excited and talk with your hands when passionate about a subject. That was something most people learned about you very quickly. Unfortunately, upon your first official meeting at a party in your freshman year with your mutual friends, Kyungsoo had no idea just how emphatic you could be until you’d knocked his drink clean out of his hand and spilled it down the front of his brand new shirt.

It was an accident, of course. You’d apologized profusely and he’d accepted it (albeit somewhat begrudgingly), but that was probably the first of many missteps in your... unique relationship.

With such conflicting personalities, it was understandable that you got into frequent arguments about one thing or another. Petty disagreements would often grow into something larger than they really needed to be. Mostly because despite having such contrasting personalities, you shared the trait of innate stubbornness, neither of you willing to admit when you were wrong. It was easy to argue with him, and you liked when you proved him wrong. You liked the way his brows furrowed and his cheeks flushed. You liked the way he glared, the way his lips pouted. You like the challenge he presented you with every time he opened his mouth. Above, you loved to win. Especially when it was against him.

So you pushed, and he pushed right back. And before you knew it, you found yourself a proper ‘frenemy’, though you aren’t sure that that’s quite the right word to describe whatever it was you two were.

But that’s just how the two of you are, how you’d always been. If you were being honest, riling him, seeing that usually so stoic, so controlled expression crack when you pushed just the right buttons— it was fun. You thoroughly enjoyed fucking with him, discovering new and creative ways to get under his skin. And you knew he got just as much satisfaction from doing the same to you, rendering you speechless with witty comebacks, flustering you with his sharp tongue and impressive rebukes.

So really, was it such a terrible thing?

Not to mention, a number of not-so-terrible things occurred as a result of one of your many arguments, such as hiring him as your calculus tutor. One that started out with you claiming he would probably be the shittiest teacher to ever exist (which seemed a valid argument at the time considering how short tempered and impatient he could be *cough* with you *cough*) to which he rebutted with the claim that he could “teach a goldfish advanced calculus” if he set his mind to it, and considering that you “had an IQ equivalent to one”, he could without a doubt teach you. His words, obviously.

It just so happened that you had a calculus exam coming up that next week, so to prove his point, he tutored you for the three days preceding said test. Even though you loathe being proven wrong, you ended up getting one of the highest scores you’d ever gotten on a math test in your entire academic career.

Putting your pride aside, you made the suggestion that he continue to tutor you. He only agreed when you offered him green in exchange for his troubles and admitted that he was right (it took a few extra hours to convince yourself that your grades should be held above your ego before you could bring yourself to verbally admit defeat).

And now here you are, not flunking out of calculus. You’d consider that worthy of the bruise to your pride, even if only by a small margin.

“Kyungsoo, why’d you mark this one wrong?” You frown at the large red X marking problem two as incorrect. You’d been glaring at your scribbled work for almost two minutes, running over the problem in your head, but you couldn’t seem to figure out where he thought you’d gone wrong. It looks right enough to you.

Kyungsoo shifts over to get a better look, his arms pressing against yours in the process and you are briefly stunned by the sudden, unexpected closeness, wholly unable to stop yourself from noticing the faint, woody scent of his aftershave that caresses your senses. Fuck. You can’t tell if you hate or love the fact that he smelled so good. Partly love it because good hygiene is always something to admire in a man (even if that man was Doh Kyungsoo), partly hate it because dammit it’s Doh Kyungsoo and you loathe finding anything that has to do with him attractive. Plus, it’s distracting. You’re here trying to learn and he has the audacity to go around smelling like pine trees and fresh moss after a rainfall. Unfair.

“Right here.”

The scowl you don’t realize you’re wearing immediately drops away as the low baritone of his voice thrums through the cavity of your ribcage and you lean forward to see exactly what he’s pointing at.

“You multiplied straight through instead of distributing.” He explains further upon seeing the uncertainty on your face. A few seconds of further inspection and you finally see what he’s talking about.

“Fuck,” you hiss, “I’m so stupid.”

“It’s an easy mistake to make.” He reassures.

“Yeah, but I should know that by now, I should’ve—” you turn your head, only to nearly choke on air as you discover that any space that once existed between the two of you has virtually disappeared, “... seen it.”

He’s close, so close that you can feel the cool rush of his breath against your skin as he exhales, goosebumps bristling across your arms in response. He’s close. Too close. You can’t think straight, can’t even breathe. The moment that surrounds you feels fragile, like even the slightest disruption would rupture it completely.

Frozen, you can only swallow around the sudden dryness of your mouth as your treacherous eyes drop to trace the plush line of his lips. Who even has lips like that? They’re just so big and so pink, that dark, kissable kind of pink that every girl just wishes her lips could be. You, included. They look soft, and you can’t help but to wonder if they’d still taste like the strawberry bubblegum he’d been chewing on at the beginning of your tutoring session.

“Careful, ___.” The sound of Kyungsoo’s voice, raspier than you recall it being before and laced in a faintly taunting pitch, is enough to break you from your trance and, once freed, you whip your head around fast enough to give yourself whiplash.

“Fuck off.” You cough, jaw clenching as you attempt to drag your mind out from the gutter and back onto the calculus problems you have yet to correct. But for whatever reason your brain refuses to cooperate, instead filling your head with images of his pretty mouth and everything it could be doing instead of rambling on about something as uninteresting as calculus. Damnit.

No doubt seeing the distress written clearly across your face, Kyungsoo chuckles, the sound low and smooth where it drips from his lips, and a familiar heat blossoms in the pit of your stomach.

You can feel his eyes on you now, every cell of your being suddenly hyperaware of his presence beside you. The pressure of his knee where it nudges against yours, the teasing curl of his lips as he watches you struggle to focus, the warmth of his palm caressing up your thigh, the— wait what?

Your gaze whips down, breath hitching at the sight of Kyungsoo’s hand gently gripping the lagging clad flesh just above your knee. It’s another few seconds before you’re able to find your voice again.

“W– What’re you—?”

“Focus.” He cuts you off smoothly, fingers soothing over the inside of your leg, squeezing gently. When you don’t look away from him, he smirks, jerking his chin forward in a manner you can only interpret as challenging. There’s a familiar glint in his eye, a dangerous glint that doesn’t fail to provoke your competitive side. You know that look well. He’s challenging you.

And you don’t back down from a challenge.

Especially not from Doh Kyungsoo.

Determination flairs up inside of you, your jaw clenching as you strike him with a single, heated glare that read plain and simple ‘you. are. on.’ before honing all your attention onto the worksheet in front of you. It’s not too difficult to focus at first, to disregard the tingles that erupt across your skin where his hot touch sears into it. You manage to find and correct your error in one of the problems (impressive for you even if Kyungsoo wasn’t feeling your leg up under the table).

But whatever pride you find in doing so is quickly quelled when his hand suddenly shifts higher, and you feel the faintest pressure against your heat. It’s a sensation that robs you of your ability to breathe entirely for a handful of seconds, and you can’t stop the shiver that ripples down your spine.

This, you see, is one of the more recent developments in your oh-so complicated relationship with Doh Kyungsoo. Yet another that began with a disagreement at a party, over something you can’t even remember anymore thanks to the haze of alcohol that clouded both your minds at the time, that spiraled way out of proportion. You remember yelling at him, insulting him, stabbing your finger into his chest, feeling the sting of his lethal glare. God, he’d looked so pissed off, and you just fed off of it, fed off the rage and the frustration that festered like lava in those dark brown eyes. The angrier he got, the harder you pushed, until he finally snapped.

You’re still not sure what you expected to happen. What you expected him to do. But you sure as hell hadn’t anticipated him grabbing you by the throat and pulling you into one of the hottest, most mind numbing kisses you’d ever experienced.

Next thing you remember is being in a bed. Whose bed it was, isn’t important. What is important, however, is the fact that that night you had the best sex of your entire life with the man you thought you couldn’t stand.

Hate sex with Doh Kyungsoo opened your eyes to a whole new world of mind boggling pleasure that you’d never experienced before. Pleasure that no other person had ever been able to give you. God, the things he did to you. No one had ever touched you like that before. It was like he knew all the places on your body that made you unravel. He honestly ruined all other men for you that night because none have even come close to comparing. Which was beyond frustrating especially considering that, at the time, you thought it was a one time thing.

The morning after you both pretended that nothing happened. In the two weeks following as well, neither one of you mentioned it. You tried to erase the memory from your brain, tried to go back to normal, but it was hard considering every time you needed some sexual release (which was more often than you care to admit), it was his hands, his mouth, his cock that you imagined while you touched yourself. You replayed his moans in your head, his deep, rasping voice growling your name, and fuck, you never came harder.

But it was still nothing compared to the real thing.

As time passed you only grew more and more frustrated. Worst of all, you could tell he was feeling it too. It was obvious in the way he looked at you, with fire burning in eyes, in the way he spoke to you, with a pitch of something hot and wanting in his voice, in the way he lost his cool far quicker and far more often than he had in the past, your arguments fiercer and more frequent than they’d ever been. The tension between the two of you was palpable, thick enough to be cut with a knife. It got to the point where even your most oblivious of friends started noticing it as well, though they knew better than to voice their curiosity.

The second time it happened, you were both sober and, somehow, it was even better than you remembered. The pleasure was more intense, more overwhelming, a feeling you can’t even put into words. Then it kept happening. Late at night when he’d show up unannounced at your door. Early in the morning when you had an important exam later in the day and you needed some pre-test de-stressing. Between classes in the back seat of his car just because you could. At parties when your friends were too shit faced to notice the two of you slipping into an unoccupied bedroom.

Just sex. That’s what you both agreed to when it became blatantly obvious that your little ‘arrangement’ wouldn’t be coming to an end any time soon. No strings. Just sex. Just really, really good sex.

And that was perfectly fine by you.

Exhaling shakily through your nose, you try to block out the feeling of his thumb as it begins to caress gently up and down your clothed core, suddenly very grateful for the layers of fabric that separate you from his intoxicating touch. But it’s a gratitude that’s short lived. Just as you manage to adjust and scribble down a correction, he cups his hand over your mound and squeezes. A gasp escapes you, and you try to cover up the sound with a series of short coughs, the sting embarrassment intertwining with the warmth of pleasure as a few eyes briefly glance in your direction.

“You’re such an asshole.” You hiss under your breath, thighs tightening around his hand, locking it in place.

He throws you a lopsided grin, brows lifting and you don’t miss the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I’ve been called worse.” What he means is you’ve called him worse.

Your lips part, but any intelligible words die on the tip of your tongue as he grinds the heel of his palm down, directly against your clit. Your head drops, eyes squeezing shut, teeth locking down firmly on your lower lip in order to silence the soft moan that threatens to break free.

“F- fuck.”

You hear him coo tauntingly beside you at your slip, the tips of his skilled fingers easily locating your entrance and prodding experimentally. At this point, you don’t doubt he can feel the fabric of your leggings growing hot and wet with your arousal.

Despite being used to the quick effect he had on your body, you can help but to feel the slightest twinge of shame at how he was able to rile you up this much with little more than a few well-placed strokes of his fingers. But fuck, it felt so good. You’d already been feeling somewhat deprived since you’d both been so busy this past week with exams and projects and what not. This is the first time you’re spending time with him since almost a week ago.

And you are in need of a fix.

“You look like you’re having a bit of trouble on that problem. Do you need my help?” Kyungsoo leans into you, his face right up next to yours, and you have to resist the sudden urge to kiss him right then in there in front of everyone in the stupid library.

Instead, you grit out an unconvincing, “I’m fine,” and force yourself to stay focused on the dizzying mess of numbers and letters on the worksheet in front of you and not on the delicious warmth of his hand where it is applying just the right amount of pressure to keep you teetering between pleasure and the insatiable need for more.

“You sure?” There’s a certain lightness to his voice that tells you he is thoroughly enjoying watching you struggle. Sadistic bastard.

“Positive.”

And just like that, he’s gone. You almost gasp as a rush of cold air fills the places he had been, and you can’t help the frown that tugs at the corners of your lips, disappointment and irritation coloring your features before you can reel them in. From the corner of your eye, you chance a glance in his direction. The smug, knowing little smirk staining his lips sends a wave of heat pulsing into your cheeks, and you grit your teeth in frustration.

“So what, you’re just going to stop?” You whisper sharply, not making any attempt whatsoever to hide your annoyance.

A look of feigned innocence overcomes his features. “You said you didn’t need my help.”

You grit your teeth, glaring at him as hard as you can manage with how incredibly turned on you are. But he remains unfazed.

“If you want my help,” he continues, voice dropping an entire octave, “you’re going to have to ask for it... nicely.”

Nice wasn’t a word in your vocabulary when Kyungsoo was involved.

Seeing the resistance you are still putting up, he feathers his fingers over your thigh, tracing slow designs across the thin, black fabric. You swallow, unable to look away as they trail dangerously higher, teasing closer to where you both knew you wanted them most.

“You do want it, don’t you?”

Fuck, you want it so bad.

You know that he knows you want it. It’s just the getting yourself to actually say it out loud part that proves to be a challenge. But that’s exactly what he wants you to do, he wants to hear you say it, wants to see you cast aside your stubborn pride and beg for it. Beg for him.

Lifting your eyes, you glance unsurely around the library. It isn’t overly crowded anymore since most of the other students have begun to trickle out as late afternoon approaches. Plus, the table you were seated at was tucked into the far back corner of the room, secluded and out of the way. But still, your nerves buzzed at the thought of someone seeing. Though maybe — just maybe — there was a buzz of something else as well. Excitement, perhaps?

Grip tightening around your pencil, you chewed on the corner of your lip, refusing to meet Kyungsoo’s penetrating gaze as you let out a soft murmur. “...ease.”

He leans closer, mirth shimmering in his eyes. “What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

Groaning, you shoot him a scowl, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Please help me, asshole.”

Laughter bubbles at his lips, the genuine kind that makes his cheeks lift and his nose wrinkle. You like it when he laughs like that. Makes him look a lot less like a serial killer.

Sinking his teeth into the pillowy flesh of his lower lip to stifle his laughter, he shoots you a lazy grin, “that’s all you had to say.”

Next thing you know, his hand is slipping beneath the elastic of your leggings and into the soft cotton confines of your underwear. Your mouth fell open, a sharp inhale filling your lungs with cold air as his fingers slid through your slick folds.

“I knew you were wet but shit.” He hisses, thick brows furrowing at the feeling of your heavy arousal coating the length of his digits. “I must say, I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be,” you breathe, eyes fluttering, “even Chanyeol can get me this— ngh!”

Without warning, he plunges his middle finger inside of you, and the remainder of your sentence pitches into a strangled moan. One look at his face, jaw clenched, nostrils flared, lips down turned, tells you he isn’t all too pleased at the mention of another man’s name, especially when he’s the one buried knuckle deep in your greedy cunt.

A hazy smirk curls onto your lips and you let out a low hum of pleasure, walls squeezing around him. “You’re sexy when you’re mad.”

“Is that why you enjoy pissing me off so much?” He questions, tone biting and low, and you shutter involuntarily as he rolls the pad of his thumb harshly over your aching clit.

“Partly.” You admit, somewhat breathless. “But you’re also just a really fun person to piss off.”

He chuckles dryly in response, though the sound lacks any genuine amusement. “You are such a brat, you know that?” He emphasizes the word by stretching you around a second finger, and you have to drop your pencil in favor of clasping your hand over your mouth, unable to swallow down the soft whimpers that tremble up your throat.

“You love it.” You manage to get out before you’re forced to bite into the tender flesh of your palm to muffle a desperate cry when the slow thrusts of his digits suddenly picks up speed. Your thighs squeeze around his hand, hips jerking up to grind your throbbing clit against the heel of his palm. Electricity ricochets through your veins, and you feel that distinctive tightening in the pit of your stomach. Kyungsoo also feels the way you throb and clench around him, and makes sure to grind down hard against your swollen clit.

Heat immediately spreads through your core, the intensity of the pleasure becoming more than you can handle. “Oh god, Kyungsoo.” Your voice comes out louder than you intended, and you quickly duck your head, doing your best to make it seem like you’re focusing on your work and not the fingers drilling relentlessly into your g-spot, praying to god that no one had seen the blissed out expression on your face. Still, you can’t help the quiet whine that escapes you when his ministrations slow.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” He asks in less than a whisper, breath hot against the shell of your ear. “Ever hear of subtlety?”

“Ever hear of suck my dick?” You snap back without missing a beat, only to jolt as his fingers curl inside of you, pressing directly against that sensitive bundle of nerves. Every muscle in your body tenses, and fuck you’re so close you can almost taste it. Frantically, you thrust your hips, desperately trying to fuck yourself down on his digits.

“Sit still.” He growls, and you quiver when he sinks his teeth into the lobe of your ear, obeying only because you really don’t want to get banned from the campus library if someone happened to catch on.

“Soo— fuck,” the force with which you bite into your lip is nearly about to break the skin, but you can’t be bothered by the pain, not with how quickly your orgasm was approaching. Sensing as much, Kyungsoo goes the extra mile of drawing hard, fast figure eights over your clit with his thumb while simultaneously thrusting his fingers into you so fast that you swear you can almost hear it.

All at once fire roars through your veins, euphoria consuming you as your high crashes over you. Your walls spasm around his digits, painting them with your release.

He doesn’t withdraw from you until you go slack, thighs spreading, body slumping back in your chair, eyes fluttering as a hazy, blissed out smile touches your lips. You can only watch through hooded lids as he brings his glistening fingers to his mouth, sighing in amazement as he sucks them clean. There’s a twinge of arousal in your core as he moans softly at the taste of you on his tongue, a downright lethal sound that somehow manages to rouse your positively spent pussy.

This man is going to be the absolute death of you one of these days.

“Fuck.” You chuckle airily, heady gaze flickered over him lazily, only to do a double take when you notice something standing upright beneath the zipper of his jeans. The corners of your lips twirled into a mirthful grin, eyebrows raising slowly.

“Need some help with that?”

“Yes.” He answers shamelessly and without hesitation, grunting softly as he adjusts himself in the tight confines of his jeans to make the raging hard-on he’s sporting somewhat less obvious. “But not here.”

“I figured. So... your car or mine?”

“Didn’t you just get a new one with reclining seats?” He questions, running the tip of his tongue over the seam of his lip at the mere implication.

You strike him with a wicked grin, already beginning to shove your things into your bag. “I did indeed.”

“Then what are we— wait.”

“What?”

“You didn’t finish correcting the worksheet yet.” He points out, drumming his fingers across the paper that had completely slipped your mind.

You pull a face, pausing in the act of gathering your belongings long enough to cross your arms pointedly over your chest. “No offense, Kyungsoo, sweetheart, but I’d much rather suck your dick than do one more of those stupid fucking calc problems.”

His brows leap to his hairline, and he offers a single nod of acceptance, in no position to argue with such a valid point.

“Noted.”

804 notes · View notes

hongism · 4 years ago

Text

mists of celeste ➻ 26.5

➻ pairing: this chapter centers around yeosang x wooyoung ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut, fluff ➻ Word Count: 3.6k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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✧✧✧ act four ➻ part 1.5

“Hey, did you take my green blanket?”

“Hm?”

“My green blanket! The one Jongho got me for my last birthday?” Wooyoung puffs his cheeks full of air when his companion merely squints at the ceiling rather than responding. “You’re using it right now, aren’t you? Under the comforter? You just took my blanket, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yeosang hums, pulling the sheets up closer to his chin. Wooyoung strains to see if there’s a flash of green underneath, but he isn’t able to catch anything at this angle. “Besides, what good are birthday presents for someone who doesn’t even have a birthday?”

Wooyoung can’t resist the urge to roll his eyes. The question is far from offensive or harsh; Yeosang tends to be blunt more than anything else, and he does have a valid point in the question since Wooyoung truly has no recollection of when his birthday is. Although it was Yeosang’s idea to claim his birthday as the day he was set free. The warmth in Yeosang’s eyes when he suggested that was far too enticing to say no to, so Wooyoung agreed without batting an eye.

“You are a terrible liar, Kang Yeosang,” he hisses out, edging closer to the bed. Yeosang lifts a brow but doesn’t budge.

“I don’t lie.”

“You omit the truth, and that’s the same as lying.” Wooyoung lifts a finger to jab it in the blond’s direction, unamused when the other cracks a small knowing smile.

“How so?” He inquires nonetheless. The teasing gleam to his gaze doesn’t let up for a second.

“You know how so!” Wooyoung protests quickly. He pulls himself further onto the bed, tossing all his weight onto Yeosang’s torso, and the other man releases a groan from the sudden pressure. “I hope you pass out, you thief.”

“God, have you gained weight? You seem heavier than usual.”

“Heavier than usual? Heavier than usual! Why you little–” Wooyoung reaches behind Yeosang’s head and snatches up a pillow before smacking it hard against the Elitist’s face. Yeosang manages to bring his arms up in time to block a majority of the impact, but Wooyoung’s superior position allows him to work around his arms and hit him on the crown of his head. “I hope that feels heavier than usual too!”

Yeosang huffs out a laugh in response. He snatches the pillow from Wooyoung’s hands when Wooyoung next brings the cushion down, pushing it to the side and grabbing hold of his wrists with such ease that Wooyoung’s heart practically jumps in his chest. Yeosang twists his body despite being caught under the sheets, and all of a sudden Wooyoung is the one being pinned to the bed, red rushing up his neck at the intimacy of the position.

“H-Hey,” he mutters as he glances away from Yeosang’s prying gaze.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way, Woo.”

“I know, I was just teasing you!” Wooyoung stretches his grin, cheeks scrunching up as he beams at Yeosang without a care in the world. The Elitist doesn’t seem pleased with his quick response though and continues his train of thought a moment later.

“You could afford to put on a bit more weight at that. And we could spend more time in the training room if you’d like. I’d be hap–”

“Oh hush, you.” Wooyoung blows air into Yeosang’s face to shut him up, and the tactic works out rather well for him seeing as Yeosang blinks against the assault with confusion painting his features. “Unlike you, my stomach was never fit for a prince’s diet or a royal meal plan. But I can eat a bit more if that would make you happy!”

“I like you just the way you are,” Yeosang hums in response. He speaks the words so softly that Wooyoung hardly catches them but when he does, the flush on his cheeks deepens to a scarlet.

“You can’t tease me about my weight, tell me that it wouldn’t hurt to put on a few pounds, then say something like that,” he grumbles under his breath, shoving a hand against Yeosang’s shoulder. The attack is half-hearted at best, and Yeosang laughs it off without too much care.

The Elitist lets the sound fade into silence, leaving his gaze to trace over every millimeter of Wooyoung’s features. The heat in his state is not lustful or seeking anything more than the gentle peace hanging in the air between them, but Wooyoung still finds himself flustered more than anything else.

“What are you doing that for?” Wooyoung wriggles a bit under Yeosang’s weight. He doesn’t manage to budge the man even an inch, completely stuck under both his grasp and gaze.

“Let me admire my lover in peace.”

Wooyoung squeals at the nonchalant attitude Yeosang holds and the way he says the words like he’s never been more sure of anything in his life. He frees one hand from Yeosang’s hold and snatches up the same pillow from before, sending it cascading into the side of Yeosang’s head.

“Excuse me, wh—”

“You’re excused!” Wooyoung interrupts before smacking Yeosang once more for good measure. Yeosang huffs and rolls off Wooyoung to escape the relentless attacks with the pillow, not bothering to fight back. As he slips out of the way, Wooyoung catches a flash of green under the black comforter. “You did steal my blanket!”

“Is that truly what you’re worried about right now?” Yeosang slips off the bed to stand upright, hands coming to rest on his hips as he blinks down at Wooyoung.

“Yes because you lied to me!”

“All I said was that I didn’t know what you were talking about.”

Wooyoung pulls himself into a sitting position and inches ever closer to where Yeosang stands by the edge of the bed. He pouts out his lower lip as far as he can in a desperate attempt to win the man over but it is to no avail because Yeosang just arches a brow and smiles a little.

“You look so cute when you act hurt.”

“Make it up to me and I won’t be hurt,” Wooyoung pleas with wide eyes. Yeosang slips a finger under his chin and lifts him up a bit more. Wooyoung follows the motion but Yeosang dips away at the last second, lips merely ghosting over his, and the younger of the two gasps at the audacity of the other’s teasing. “You are absolutely cruel!”

“I can’t help myself when you look as cute as you do.” Yeosang begins to pull back, but Wooyoung isn’t about to let him get away with it this time, so he reaches up to snag the man by the collar, yanking him back down so hard that Yeosang has to grip the mattress to keep from crushing Wooyoung.

“Do it properly.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I will find someone who can do it prope–” Pressure invades Wooyoung’s mouth, and he doesn’t get the chance to finish that train of thought thanks to Yeosang’s lips crashing into his. Wooyoung sighs into the kiss, a content smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, and sits back to let Yeosang do most of the work. Yeosang doesn’t stay long, releasing Wooyoung’s lips with a wet pop and harsh glare that doesn’t scare Wooyoung in the slightest. Huffing out a laugh, the dark-haired man brings a thumb to his lips and wipes at the excesses saliva Yeosang left there. “Better.”

It is still difficult to ignore the dull pain that blossoms in his chest when his lips part from Yeosang’s, but he has at least gotten better at not letting that pain shine through his features or show in the slightest. Whether Yeosang doesn’t notice or he is merely pretending to ignore it, Wooyoung does not know, but he does not particularly care either. Not talking about it saves them both from further pain that neither of them wants.

“I put up with too much of your teasing.” Yeosang readjusts his tunic, pulling the white silk back into its original resting place. Even with all the man’s insistence that he hates every part of his past, he sure does wear many regal and fancy clothes. Not that Wooyoung is complaining in the slightest because Yeosang just looks so pretty: blond hair that falls in soft waves around his face just long enough to be pulled back into the smallest ponytail, dark brown eyes with gold flecks throughout them, that precious birthmark hiding beside his eye that his side bangs cover all too often. The silk regalia he always wears on casual days like these only add to that beauty. Wooyoung could spend hours sitting back like this and staring at him. “Perhaps that should be your next lesson.”

“Hm, maybe, but if I really wanted to, I would have you pinned to the bed right now. Especially with how pretty and delicate you look in that shirt.” Wooyoung grins a bit too cheekily, and Yeosang rewards him with a sharp flick to the forehead. “Ow!”

“You were asking for it.”

“You are oh so cruel and harsh, Prince Kang,” Wooyoung laments with a dramatic flair to his tone. He throws himself back onto the bed, releasing an all too fake sob as Yeosang just rolls his eyes and ignores the other’s antics.

“You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“Would you rather me call you sir? Perhaps while you have me face do–” Yeosang darts forward, clapping a hand over Wooyoung’s prattling mouth without hesitation, and he glances around the room nervously even though it is empty aside from the two of them.

“You’re too bold,” he hisses before pulling his hand back and letting Wooyoung grin happily to himself.

“I’m just trying to get to the point here! You promised to teach me more today, and I haven’t heard you breathe a word about that, so hurry up mister!”

“You and your teasing mouth have prevented me from doing so actually.” Yeosang catches Wooyoung by the chin, and he inches the man’s head up with just his index finger. Wooyoung’s smile stretches wider in defense, and the other can only manage a deep sigh as pulls away. “What is it you want to learn today? Anything particular in mind?”

Wooyoung slides himself over to the edge of the bed and tosses his legs over the edge. He taps at his chin as he thinks, trying (and failing) not to get distracted by the soft expression Yeosang wears currently.

“Um, you said – you said you had to go to lots of dances when you were younger right?”

“I did, yes,” Yeosang hums. He doesn’t try to hide the smile that overtakes his lips as Wooyoung speaks, and once again, Wooyoung finds himself slipping further into distraction.

“W-Well then, teach me to dance!” Wooyoung hops to his feet and looks Yeosang in the eye. They stand at about the same height; perhaps Wooyoung is only a centimeter shorter at best, but Yeosang would most likely say it’s more like two or three centimeters.

“We don’t have music though?” Yeosang’s voice lifts at the end of his sentence, changing the statement into a question, and Wooyoung slaps the flat of his hand down hard against Yeosang’s shoulder.

“Do we really need music? Isn’t it all about – um, I don’t know how dancing works actually.”

“Counts, Woo, it’s all about counts.”

“Okay, see! That’s not music.”

“But it’s counts related to the tempo of the music,” Yeosang hums but he slips an arm about Wooyoung’s waist nonetheless and tugs him closer. “I suppose coming up with a tempo of our own wouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Wait, which part are you teaching me?” Wooyoung inquires as Yeosang guides one of his hands up to rest near his bicep. The blond clasps the other tight in his own hand, pulling it out to the side to hang in the open air.

“The typically female part.”

“I want to learn the male part!” Wooyoung protests, fist balling around the fabric of Yeosang’s delicate shirt.

“You want me to dance to the female’s part?”

“Would it truly be the first time you haven’t taken control?” Wooyoung quips, and Yeosang’s grip on his waist tightens to a point where the younger yelps.

“Don’t think with such a dated mindset, Woo. There are many things a man can do from that position, and I would be happy to teach you those next,” Yeosang purrs, pressing his lips to the shell of Wooyoung’s ear. The younger releases some sort of noise that sounds something like a squeak and a gasp mashed together. Yeosang revels in the sound, and he tosses his head back as a bout of laughter overtakes his body. The sound is crisp and clear in a beautiful way. Wooyoung cherishes it while it lasts, knowing that the Elitist is only ever so relaxed and carefree like this when they are alone.

Yeosang nudges Wooyoung’s hand off his shoulder and catches hold of it before it can fall uselessly by his side. He pulls it to his waist in attempts to urge Wooyoung to take hold of him, and Wooyoung is quick to do so, folding his fingers around Yeosang’s lithe waist.

“You can’t expect to dance properly while standing that far away from me, Wooyoung,” Yeosang grumbles under his breath. He hooks a hand onto Wooyoung’s shoulder and tugs him forward until their chests have no space between them. Wooyoung sucks in a sharp breath, stifling a smile when he sees the flush that rises up Yeosang’s neck as he tightens his grip on the man’s waist.

“Did all the princesses have the pleasure of dancing so close to you?” Wooyoung hums. His eyes remain wide and innocent, but Yeosang knows better than to believe the innocence there.

“You are the only one I would ever allow this close to me.”

Wooyoung is pleased with the response even if it catches him off-guard because he was honestly expecting another jibe from the man. The small statement has more than one meaning, and Wooyoung basks in all the possibilities, taking a moment to just absorb Yeosang’s warmth and presence.

“Alright, you don’t get to ignore my instructions just because I’m letting you lead this one time. I expect you to pay attention to every detail.”

“This one time?” Wooyoung laughs.

“I won’t let you lead again after this.”

“Oh, you’ve said that before but–”

“Think with your brain not with your dick, Jung Wooyoung!” Yeosang squeezes hard at the muscle under Wooyoung’s shirt, and he releases a yelp from the sharp pain that spreads quickly through his body.

“Okay, okay! I’m thinking with my head! And not that one!”

“Remind me why I put up with you.”

“Because you love me?” Wooyoung grins, and while Yeosang doesn’t provide a verbal response, he has one in the way Yeosang smiles before clearing his throat and standing up a bit straighter.

“Just move with me. It’s rather simple to get the hang of, but there will be a lot of stepping on toes until you get a feel for your partner.” Wooyoung’s lips don’t even part a centimeter before Yeosang sends him a pointed glare that has him snapping his lips back together with no further comment. “When my right foot moves backward, step forward with your left. We can work up to you leading the movements, but if you were in full control, you would push against my hand to signal that you’re taking a step forward.”

Yeosang’s right leg slips away from Wooyoung’s left one, and he chases after him, taking a hasty step forward and hitting the tip of Yeosang’s steel-toed boot. Wooyoung backtracks immediately and tugs back, but the blond keeps him firmly planted to the spot.

“Easy, Woo… move a bit slower than that. It’s not a race; it’s a dance. It’s supposed to be slow and rhythmic.”

Wooyoung lets Yeosang guide his next steps, blindly following them without focusing on any of the words coming from his lips. They sway to an inaudible beat, a song only the two of them can hear, an unspoken melody that holds them to each other. As it turns out, Yeosang doesn’t need to explain anything because Wooyoung’s body picks up on the guidance within minutes.

“I think you got it,” Yeosang whispers eventually, and neither man is sure how long they’ve been dancing. They don’t pull away though; instead, Yeosang slips his hand free of Wooyoung’s and moves it up to his other shoulder. Slowly but surely, he intertwines his fingers behind Wooyoung’s neck. Wooyoung takes it as a sign to drop his hand to Yeosang’s waist, and he mimics the position with a faint smile. Yeosang arches his back against the touch. He’s in the middle of a laugh when Wooyoung drops his forehead atop the other man’s, eliciting a quiet gasp from him that devolves into a huff of laughter again less than a second later. “We aren’t even dancing anymore.”

“Do we need to be?” Wooyoung lets his eyes flutter shut. Every sense is so full of Yeosang that it’s almost overwhelming: the heat of his warm skin under the silk, the soft sounds of his breathing and slightly lisped tone, the smell of that goddamn cologne someone bought for him some time ago that Wooyoung adores so much, Wooyoung can even still taste Yeosang on his lips from their earlier kiss. And when he opens his eyes once more, there Yeosang stands before him – real, living, able to be seen and held and cherished.

Too often do those dreams come, the ones where Yeosang remains out of reach or broken and hurt and dying before Wooyoung’s eyes but he can’t do a thing to stop it. They come in a wide variety of nightmares, a plethora of troubles and hardships and pain, and yet there is only one that never arises.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Yeosang murmurs once he recognizes the gleam in Wooyoung’s eyes. “Come back to me, Woo.” He’s a bit too far gone as it is, too lost in thought and caught up in the frightening possibilities. Yeosang’s hands slip loose and fall forward to cradle Wooyoung’s face in his palms.

The one that has never awoken in his mind is the one where Yeosang is his master, his owner, the one dealing punishment after punishment, and if Wooyoung dwells on the thought for too long, he can start to hear the crack of the electric whip in his ears.

“Come back to me,” Yeosang says a bit louder this time. Something binds Wooyoung to the words, and he finds himself leaning into the warmth of Yeosang’s touch. “There we go, come back to me. Just like that…”

“’m sorry.” Wooyoung’s words are a bit slurred and broken, but he’s free of the intruding thoughts for the time being at least.

“That’s enough lessons for today, I think.” Yeosang hums as he trails a thumb over the skin of Wooyoung’s cheek.

“Let’s stay like this a little while longer, please.”

“Whatever you want, Woo.”

“All I want is you,” Wooyoung whispers, slipping his head away from Yeosang’s so that he can bury his face in the man’s neck. A few of the longer strands of blond hair tickle his ear, and a shiver travels down his spine with the sensation before he settles comfortably there.

“I know.”

“I would have you for the rest of my life if you let me.”

“You know I would.” Yeosang reaches a hand up to cup the back of Wooyoung’s head. He combs through the charcoal locks there, fingernails brushing over his scalp in such a way that Wooyoung feels himself growing drowsier by the second. “We’ll see what fate has in store for us.”

“What if I don’t want to wait that long?”

“You don’t have to. I’m yours now.” Wooyoung smiles against Yeosang’s skin, and a sigh passes through his chest as Yeosang shifts to press a kiss to his hair.

“I did pretty well for myself, I suppose. Getting a prince all on my own.”

“You said that as if there was ever any doubt of me falling for you,” Yeosang laughs softly. “But I must admit… a traitorous runaway prince and an ex-slave. Fate can’t even try to tell me that—”

Wooyoung cuts the thought short, pulling up with haste to slot his lips against Yeosang’s much smoother ones. He knows the man will complain later – tell him that the more they kiss, the more painful it will get in the long run – but right now, Wooyoung just wants to appreciate every inch of Yeosang while he can. If fate wishes to deprive him of that one day, then Wooyoung doesn’t want to look back with any regrets about what they could have done or said in their time together.

For now, it’s enough. The feel of Yeosang’s lips sliding over his and returning the kiss with equal parts love and passion. The hands tangling in his hair as Wooyoung grips harder at his waist and pulls him impossibly close. He feels like he’s fifteen again in those damp and dark alleyways on Aera, shaking from the cold but oh so warm thanks to the weight of Yeosang’s words that night. He feels like he did the moment Yeosang set him free, the moment he promised that he would take care of Wooyoung. He wouldn’t let him be alone anymore, he wouldn’t let anything happen to him, and he would protect Wooyoung no matter the cost.

It’s enough, and in the back of his mind, Wooyoung thinks that it will be enough for a long time to come.

✧✧✧ a/n: okay so this!! is not specified when this interim is set, you can leave that up to your own imagination, just for something more lighthearted important and insightful on our lovely bois 🥺 i was a bit nervous about this and almost decided not to post bc it’s the most forward i’ve been with the mxm content but i am really happy with how it turned out so i hope you guys enjoy it too even if you don’t typically enjoy mxm content !! and i also listened to pov by ariana grande while writing it and that was a mistake :’)

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @2504-life @lil7bluedragon @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @haotheheckk @noonawriter @lostscenarios @nlost21 @mirror-juliet @okokokok123-45 @purple-aeon @theoinkypiglet @toothlessshiber @atinyarmyx1 @simpforhyunjin @hwangwoosan @takitaro @vampire-jimin @softyubi @drumboydowoon @chatsgotmytongue @just-a-starfruit

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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ask-the-riders · 3 years ago

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Eager Deal Maker

Not all demons enjoy making deals and stealing souls

But most of them thrive off of it

((Gonna add some warnings for implied abuse, implied domestic disturbances, threats, manipulation, threats against animals, and dark themes))

The drama was a frequent occurrence within the household, and frankly, none of it came as a surprise anymore. If anything, the demon found it amusing, and the negative environment fed him well. It began when the dumb brunette harlot moved in with her worthless drunk of a boyfriend. Naturally, her teenage daughter went with her; Not that she was given a choice on the matter. The woman’s boyfriend also had a daughter of his own, who’d made it clear from the very beginning that she had no interest in befriending the other girl.

Living together wasn’t always the best, but it was doable. Then the family relocated, and a little time passed before the woman’s eldest child moved in with them, absolutely riddled with anxiety and depression. Of course, while Othni relished those emotions, it was the fear and anger that blossomed there that really caught his attention. First it was from the pair of siblings and their overactive imaginations, causing them to fear their new home’s basement. They despised the dirt and cobwebs, the old, musty odor, and the various dark crawl spaces. Their minds painted the image of monsters lingering in the gloom, and more than once, they feared that if they looked into the darkness too long, they’d catch something looking back at them. Othni had been so very tempted to indulge their imagination a little, and he contemplated all the various forms he could take to scare them.

He never got the chance, though. The rage that took hold of the house was located on the second floor, and it was provided by the daughter of the mother’s boyfriend. She was so angry and often carried the stench of jealousy, and Othni was intrigued. She had such an easy life; So he didn’t understand what she had to be angry about. Her parents loved her, she didn’t have to work even a single moment to attain anything she currently owned, she had a loving boyfriend of her own, and she had virtually the entire upstairs of the house to herself. She was bitter and ungrateful, and Othni could hardly believe some of the things that she had the audacity to say to her father. Hell, if he’d even considered saying such things to his father…

Othni shook off those thoughts, refocusing his attention on the present moment. Right now, a fluffy black cat that belonged to the pair of siblings was staring at him from across the small living room, it’s large, green eyes locked on his every move. He paused, stopping in the doorway that connected the living room to the kitchen, and he arched an eyebrow, watching the cat tilt its head and take one tiny, cautious step toward him. Smiling slightly in amusement, the demon slowly lowered himself to the floor and sat down, turning his body a bit and facing away from the cat. As he’d expected, the fluffball continued to very cautiously approach him, stretching its neck and sniffing the air. This was a creature that was pure of heart, and he could tell how timid it was, so he did his best to stay as still as possible.

Crouched low to the ground, it crept even closer, slowly making its way around him and sniffing at his arms and hands. Looking up at him with wide eyes, its mouth hung open as it tried to process the new scent, and he chuckled, amused by the way that particular expression looked on its face. A door slammed upstairs and the cat immediately bolted for the stairs, likely to go hide in its owners’ room. Othni made a face, pouting as he watched it leave; It was fluffy and timid, and it reminded him of his precious Misfit. It saddened him ever so slightly that the fluffball was gone now, but he shoved the feeling aside. After all, he could always see it some other time.

The stairs creaked and he vanished into the shadows, quietly watching as the resident home-wrecker descended. Usually she emitted nothing but anger and jealousy, but at the moment, she gave off a sick, twisted sense of joy and satisfaction. Noting the cocky smirk she wore, he frowned; Oh, wonderful. Just what in the hell had she done now?

He waited for her to pass from the room before he warped through the shadows and manifested in the shadows that occupied the guest room. Careful to stay out of sight, he took a deep breath, sensing the anger, frustration, fear, and despair from across the hall. The elder sibling’s anxiety had grown so much that it was almost suffocating, and he furrowed his brows in puzzlement. Again, he warped through the shadows of the house, manifesting a second time within the siblings' closed bedroom closet. Listening in, he caught the sound of sniffling, as if one of them was crying. When they spoke, their voice shook, “If she does anything to him, I swear… I’m gonna throw the bitch down the damn stairs. I’m not letting her get away with this.” As they spoke, he could hear the anger and venom that were laced into their words, and he tilted his head.

He was all for violence and revenge, but just what was going on? The one that was speaking was usually so reserved and considerate of others. They reeked of kindness and empathy, and this was incredibly out of character for them. Willing to risk being seen, he warped through the small gap beneath the door, quickly finding a new spot just outside one of their windows. Peering inside, his eyes scanned the room before they settled on a piece of paper that laid on the foot end of one of their beds. Squinting a bit, he focused in on it, and then immediately bristled. On it, there was a threat to kill their cat, along with an additional insult. From the brief meeting he’d had with their little black fluffball, he could tell that it was a sweetheart. In such a short amount of time, it reminded him so much of Misfit that he felt his long dead heart give a small pulse in affection, and he found himself already harboring the urge to protect it. This… This wouldn’t fly. If these humans didn’t do something to protect it, then he’d be taking it with him, and that was all there was to it.

“I can see you out there!” The other siblings' words caught Othni by surprise and he jolted, quickly ducking out of their line of sight. Hiding in the shadows again, he listened as the first sibling questioned them, frowning as they gave their response, “There was a shadow out there. It was all dark, and then I saw it move.” The demon mentally kicked himself for not being more careful and he remained frozen in place, waiting for their conversation to change before he moved again. When it did eventually drift back to the subject from before, he prepared to move, but then abruptly stopped, listening as he caught the tail end of something the first sibling had said, “-I wish demons were real. At this point, I’d willingly give one of them my damn soul if it meant getting rid of that bitch and keeping Bubby safe.”

A lightbulb went off in the demon’s mind, and a wide, sharp toothed grin stretched across his face; An opportunity to make a deal had just presented itself, it seemed. He didn’t even care if he laid claim to their soul or not, all that mattered was protecting their little feline friend. Grinning devilishly to himself in delight, he warped back into their closet and waited. Some time passed before their light shut off and the room became illuminated by nothing more than a small, handheld lamp, and he prepared himself, his tail and claws disappearing, his sharpened teeth becoming dull and human while his eyes faded and turned emerald green. He allowed his greyed skin to shift, becoming a more human looking color before he rapped on the door exactly three times and waited.

Naturally, a few expletives slipped from their mouths, and he arched a brow. There was the sound of movement before the closet door slowly opened after a moment and the pair of siblings gawked at him. Clearing his throat, he took the most polite tone he could manage, “One of you wished for a demon to solve your recent problems for you, so here I am.” While the elder of the two continued to stare at him, the younger one seemed taken aback, “Uhh, no, we didn’t. Who the hell are you, and why are you in our closet?” The demon couldn’t help the amused grin that found its way onto his face and he tilted his head, “One of you said they’d willingly give up their soul to get rid of that dunderheaded doxy across the hall and to keep your pet safe.” The younger sibling shot a look at the elder of the two, and the elder seemed to shrink back a bit, offering them a small, guilty smile.

Shifting his attention to them, he hummed, “I presume it was you?” They sheepishly nodded, not quite meeting his gaze, and he warped through the distance between them, “Luckily for you, I can do that. I can get rid of her, and I can make sure your cat is safe. You caught me on a good day, so I won’t even ask for your soul.” The elder of the two siblings regarded him with a look of clear suspicion, narrowing their eyes, “…What would you be getting out of it? You’re a demon, so I don’t think you’d ever do anything just for the sake of being nice.” He chuckled lowly to himself; Oh, so they were a clever one. How interesting.

The demon shrugged his shoulders, noting the way their cheeks reddened the slightest bit as he drew even closer to them and leaned down, wrapping an arm around them. Lowering his voice, Othni murmured, “I saw the note she left, where she threatened to kill your cat.” He paused, slowly letting his appearance shift back to normal. As his fair skin became greyed and his teeth sharpened, his eyes began to glow a vibrant shade of blue and his tail appeared, unwinding from around his waist. It curled around the elder sibling’s waist and he dug his clawed fingertips into the fabric of their shorts as he purred, “As you can probably imagine, I happen to love cats. If someone has the audacity to kill a cat, then I kill them. Simple as that.” Registering the change in his appearance, the tail around their waist, and his words, their eyes widened and they froze, unsure what to do.

Sensing this, he lifted his free hand, delicately turning their head so they’d meet his gaze. As their eyes met his, he offered them a sharp, charming grin, “While your soul would be a nice little add-on to this deal, I don’t need it. All I want is the satisfaction of ridding this home of someone who’d dare hurt an innocent animal. All you’d have to do is keep your mouth shut and let me feed off of the growing negativity here.” He stole a glance at the younger sibling, “Both of you. Do you think you could do that?” The siblings shared a look, the younger one nodding first before the elder nodded back. Meeting Othni’s gaze again, the elder sibling made a soft sound in agreement, “Yeah… We could do that.” He seemed to light up, his grin widening, “Wonderful, I’m glad! Since I am still making a deal with you though, I’ll need you to shake my hand.” Offering them a blackened hand, he patiently waited as they internally battled with themselves.

A few seconds passed before they hesitantly took his hand, and his grin became mischievous. He tightened his grip on their hand and dug his claws into their skin, drawing a small amount of blood as he hissed, “Excellent, I’ll get started immediately, then. I’d suggest putting your headphones on… You might not want to hear the screams.”

#writing #othni.exe #tw: implied abuse #tw: implied domestic disturbances #tw: threats #tw: manipulation #tw: threats against animals #tw: dark themes #four horsemen of the apocalypse #riders of the apocalypse #undertale #undertale au

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babiemingoo · 4 years ago

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lollipop boy || jeon wonwoo

summary: greaser!wonwoo is only kind of your friend when he comes up with a stupid (but brilliant) plan to piss off your ex boyfriend and test just what person you claim to have become

genre: greaser!wonwoo, suggestive? || wc: 2.6k

a/n: this is actually a snippet of my next series I have planned, so I hope everyone enjoys reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

This was awkward.

As you sat there, thumbs twiddling mindlessly in an attempt of a distraction from the tension, you couldn’t escape how awkward of a situation you were in. When your friend Sien had texted that she was running late but someone should already be there waiting, you had hoped with every cell of your being that the someone wasn’t Wonwoo. But when you opened the front door of the diner nestled in the middle of your hometown, the only member of your newfound “friend group” that had arrived on time was, of course, Wonwoo.

The diner was classic, with a neon sign hanging above the milkshake bar and a worn down jukebox near the corner window looking like it had survived every teenager in your town since the 1940s. The color scheme of red, white and gray made the boy wrapped in a shiny black leather jacket look even more so out of place than he already was. He never seemed to care, though, always sat in the exact same spot on a Wednesday afternoon, flipping through his auto vehicle magazine with a lollipop between his lips while his friends bustled about excitedly. Except, his friends were late, and now it was just the two of you together despite the fact that you had spoken more less 20 words to him since you met.

If silently sitting across the said boy wasn’t awkward enough, the diner was pretty dead for a Wednesday when most people your age tended to trickle in - except for, with your luck, your ex boyfriend. Him and your old friend group were huddled about in the opposite end of the diner, next to the jukebox that you knew they liked to hang around to play their favorite 70s songs while they loitered. None of them seemed to have noticed your arrival apart from the boy that you used to spend every Wednesday holding hands with. Now you two side glance at each other, looking away in the split millisecond when your eyes meet and pretend like it didn’t happen. You repeat the action probably five times before a deep voice pulls you out of the routine, “So much for hating his guts, huh?”

Wonwoo’s still skimming his eyes through the words printed next to a picture of a motorcycle in the magazine, but you know he was the one that had just spoken to you. “What are you talking about?” You question him, feigning ignorance. His deep chuckle cuts through the air as you observe the candy he has wrapped in his fingers, just an inch away from his mouth so he’s able to voice out his thoughts. One thing you had noticed about Wonwoo was that he always had a lollipop with him. Sometimes it was green, or purple, or even blue; but today it was his classic red shade. His usual soda was always red, all the candy he bought at the liquor store was red, and the chapstick that he would pull out every now and then was that of the same color and flavor; the one you have realized to be his favorite. Cherry.

“You tell everyone how much you hate him for what he did to you, but you keep making love eyes at him,” The boy across from you states in a tone that you’re sure is dripping with arrogance. “Not surprised though. I told Sien that you would run back to rich boy the first chance you got.”

You scoff at the audacity he had. The two of you may have been in the same friend group, and you’ve come to have a soft spot for a few of them - like Sien and Jun - but Wonwoo speaks as if he has a right to judge you or any of your past. Wonwoo was the only one out of the group of greasers that you felt hadn’t really taken to you and you’re certain it’s because of your old friends and boyfriend that he hated so much. Every part of you itched to prove him wrong about every assumption he had made about your life. “I’m not going to run back to him!” You say to him with determination, in a low voice.

For the first time since you’ve met him, Wonwoo closes the magazine. He quickly folds the corner of the page he was on to not lose his spot, shuts it, and pulls the lollipop out of his mouth again before saying, “Everytime we meet up at a spot and he’s around, you both make puppy eyes at each other like you’ll run into each other’s arms in a flower field and sing love songs. Even I can’t ignore it and I make it a point to half ignore everyone. Just admit you want to make your boy toy miss you, get your job done and go back to your perfect little life. Don’t drag my friends into this.” The way his voice comes out is laced with venom and you feel it. You always had a hunch that Wonwoo held dislike for you rather than indifference, but this is the first you’re hearing of his theory that you’re just using your new friend group to prove something to your ex.

“I’m sorry if the guy I was with for three years and had to break up with a few weeks ago still holds a little part of my heart,” You retort with sass. “But I’m not going to go back to him. What he did was so completely fucked up and even if I’ve been with him for that long I have more self worth, I know that I deserve more-”

Ding.

It was a bad habit of yours to leave your ringer on. A habit that had got you written up in class more times than you can count, one that got you caught during friend gatherings when you and Seungkwan were trying to sneakily talk behind the other boys’ backs. And now, it was a habit that had you caught up with Wonwoo. The brightness of your phone screen was almost mocking in the way that it illuminated the notification you had just gotten from your ex boyfriend standing across the room, letters sewed together in a text that said, ‘hey can we talk?’

You catch the text message in the corner of your eye and Wonwoo does, too. He laughs; a deep chuckle of satisfaction that matches his tone when he says, “Preppy boy is calling. Shouldn’t you go kiss and make up?”

It’s silent for a beat. Wonwoo is infuriating in the way that he’s never gone easy on you, even the first day you had met, Sien bringing you to their table with tears streaming down your face and his first sentence to you had been a tease. He’s infuriating in the way now that he’s fully expecting you to turn around and head in your ex’s direction to talk. He’s infuriating in the way that you consider actually doing it.

“Well?” He questions, head nodding towards the man who used to occupy all your time and all your thoughts. Instinctively you turn around and make eye contact with him for the sixth time that day and his eyes are pleading, waiting. Waiting. Just like you had been sitting, waiting for him all those days and weeks while he had been running around, betraying you, lying to you-

“Aren’t you going to go talk to your lover boy?”

“No.”

The answer leaves your lips before he can even finish his question. Truthfully you were hoping Wonwoo would look impressed, or a little surprised in the least. He doesn’t. All he offers you is a smug grin as his tongue peaks out of lips, lapping at the red lollipop a few times before he speaks, “Bullshit.”

You want to counter his cockiness but he beats you to it, adding, “Don’t string it on, sweetheart. The others will get here and then you’ll have to explain just how weak you are for your ex in front of all of them. I won’t say anything to them; you can do that yourself later. Just go back to your preppies where you’d rather be.”

Sweetheart? Weak? Where you’d rather be? Gosh, the nerve Wonwoo always had with you. You roll your eyes before crossing your arms at him, vision narrowing, “I’m not going to talk to him. I don’t want to talk to him. He fucked me over and now we’re done.”

“Really?” He questions with his eyebrows raised, but you know he’s mocking you. The boy wants to test you because he still thinks he knows you and that all his assumptions of you are right.

You want to prove him wrong. “Yup! I hate him and I don’t want anything to do with him. If I could make him see that him and I are completely done, I would.” The tone of your voice made every word come out with conviction. You wanted to make it a point that you think - no - you knew that you were done with your ex. Whatever the two of you had was completely finished after how he had mistreated you and your heart, and you needed to show that to Wonwoo. You need to show that to yourself. You wanted to prove him and everyone else who doubted you, wrong.

Ding.

Another notification. Another text message. Another attempt of your ex trying to crawl back into your life, your heart, the letters on your phone screen now fitting together to create your name in question. From the corner of your eye you can see his gaze; no longer pleading but begging. He wants to talk. The deepest, darkest depths of your heart will you to get up and listen. Your brain says to stay put. Another chuckle from Wonwoo.

“You sure you’re done with him?”

With gritted teeth, you harshly grab your phone and flip it upside down so the screen can’t mock you anymore. “I’m sure.”

Wonwoo finally looks just the slightest impressed by your reaction. But not convinced - not at all. Strangely, he gets up, says nothing as he walks around the table and sits next to you before facing you with a glint in his eye. His lollipop is wrapped around his mouth until he pulls it out again to say, “Prove it.”

This day is a bunch of firsts. The first time you’ve had a conversation with Wonwoo (albeit a negative one, but still), the first time you’ve gotten heated since you found out what your ex had done, and the first time you’ve ever seen Wonwoo so up close. Your eyes follow the creases of his lips, across his laugh lines which are - surprisingly - fairly prominent, past his nose and cheekbones and to his eyes, small but fierce and shaped in a way that has you wondering if you would’ve enjoyed looking at them under different circumstances. You try not to get yourself too caught up in the intricacies of his features and distract yourself by countering, “Prove what?”

“Put your money where your mouth is. You said that if you were able to make him see that you two were done, you’d do it. You said you don’t want to go back to him, then prove it.” The leather of his jacket squeaks a little when he shrugs.

“Wha- How am I supposed to-”

“Kiss me,” His tone is so casual in the way he says it, like every other word that he’s ever targeted at you hasn’t been spoken with condescending undertones and haughty implications. You want to keep your sassy facade but you begin to gape at him like a fish out of water, gasping for some sort of clarity on the situation. There is no way he could be seriously asking this of you when the two of you had barely established a frenemies relationship. In fact, it was more of the enemies than it is friends.

He smirks at the way you’re caught off guard (because he’s a little shit) and repeats himself while scooting closer, “You don’t have to, but as a guy I’ll tell you - if I saw the girl who used to be my everything kissing another guy after I had texted her asking to talk to her? I think I’d get the hint.”

You can’t help the way the cogs in your head turn together to make sense of what he says, even if it’s a bit out of left field. Technically, you did say that you would show your ex he no longer had a chance with you, if you were able to do so. You wonder if doing such a thing like kissing Wonwoo would give the boy across the room a big old fuck you like he deserved. Your gaze travels to the said boy, who’s eyes have changed to hold something of confusion and wonder. Was he confused at why Wonwoo had come to sit next to you? In an attempt to support or debunk your hypothesis, you scoot closer to Wonwoo, your hand finding it’s way against his jean clad knee where the frayed rips let you two meet skin to skin.

The emotions behind your ex’s eyes shift. They’re shocked now; angry. Hurt. Those were the same feelings you felt all those weeks ago when the world came crashing down at your shoulders and your relationship went with it.

You take your attention and put it back on Wonwoo, who’s breath you can feel against your face with how impossibly close you two have gotten. He’s smirking again. Similar to moments ago when your eyes scanned over his face, his gaze begins to do the same to you; memorizing the dip of your cupid’s bow and the tip of your nose.

The boy lets out a breath when his eyes find their way up, meeting yours. Hand on your waist. Head tilting, “Kiss me,” He repeats.

You lean forward. Your lips touch. He might have just meant a peck, just to get your ex riled up. But the way your lips fit together implied so, so much more than a peck. They move together, slotting against each other in a way that would’ve convinced anyone in the room that you two have been captivated by each other with adoration and nothing but. The thought of how mad your ex probably is begins to get buried in the back of your mind when you start to focus on him, Wonwoo, and the way that he feels. The way his right hand pulls you just the slightest bit closer even if there’s no more room. The way his left hand reaches behind your neck to cradle you in place like he wants the two of you to keep kissing for hours.

All thoughts of everything else that had been going on in your life begins to dissipate in your head as you get caught up in him. In this moment you only think one thing: Wonwoo. Wonwoo Wonwoo Wonwoo. Wonwoo in his leather jacket, Wonwoo on his motorcycle, Wonwoo holding his magazine, Wonwoo looking at you, Wonwoo holding you- It’s funny, because earlier today you were dreading Wonwoo. Now it seems like your subconscious craves him, head leaning forward as if he was going anywhere. You want to remember this; even if the future version of yourself is going to pretend like you didn’t enjoy it. So your tunnel vision goes completely there to his lips, his kiss. You make sure to note the way he tastes just so you can brand him and this kiss with it for the rest of your life. You’ll make sure to associate this taste with him forever so that every time you have another lick of it you’re reminded of this day that Jeon Wonwoo stole your breath straight out of your mouth. You memorize what your taste buds feel when you kiss him. Cherry.

#jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #caratwritersclub #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fics #seventeen one shot #kpop #kpop fics #seventeen x reader #svt #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop au #seventeen au #seventeen wonwoo

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ka-za-ri · 4 years ago

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Prize Pt 1

Hello! Comin’ at you hot with some commission work I received from a lovely client on Ao3. The request was for breeding centric fic, so if you’re not into that, please avert ye eyes. This is a three part series and will end up being Satan centric, but the first part will be dedicated to the lovely Asmo~

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖° Please enjoy!

Chapter Index and Obey Me! Masterlist: here Ao3 Mirror: Here Pairing: Asmodeus x Reader Genre: smut Wordcount: 4,200 ish Tags: Hand job, demon sex Summary: There’s a game afoot and it’s up to you to figure out the rules before you’re taken by surprise by the brothers.

Game

There was an unspoken game afoot, one that only the brothers were in on. You didn’t need to confront them on what they were hiding though, it wasn’t hard to figure out. None of the demons seemed to be well versed in the art of being subtle. At least it meant you were able to catch onto what they were doing much sooner than they anticipated. You would play along with them; and in the end, it would benefit all parties involved. The most important question was how to make them play by your rules without them knowing.

It was a careful dance around their flirtatious advances. It was a precise push and pull that you needed to become adept at if you wanted to win their game. For some, material bribes distracted them enough. A different approach was needed for the others who were more persistent. From Leviathan’s obvious attempts to usurp your time by asking you to raid with him until the wee hours of the morning to Beelzebub constantly asking you if you wanted some of his favorite snacks, they clearly wanted more personal time with you than they let on.

It wasn’t hard to push away Beelzebub. You could claim to have an upset stomach or were too full from your most recent meal to accept his idea to raid the fridge and retreat to his room to enjoy the spoils. Leviathan was similar. Most of the time you got away with complaining about how much homework was put upon you. On the few occasions you did end up joining him for a dungeon run or two, you may or may not have purposefully provoked the enmity of the boss to frustrate him enough to kick you out of his room early.

It was difficult to keep up appearances. Trying to find the balance of spending time with the brothers while also keeping up an innocent and unaware facade was more tiring than you anticipated. You knew that their intentions weren’t bad, but they were up to something that definitely revolved around getting you alone and probably naked. Some of the plans they executed were more obvious than others, and you needed to pick your battles accordingly.

Mammon was particularly difficult to deal with at times. He liked to spend most of his time hanging off you. He had the distinct advantage of being chosen to be your caretaker and guardian thanks to Lucifer. One of the few favors the first born had ever done for Mammon was allowing him to have as much contact as he needed with you. Though he was great with showing you the ropes of Devildom, it was problematic when it came to you wanting your own space. Though his words were brash, you could tell how much he adored being the default person that you had to turn to for help.

Luckily for you, it seemed as though his past made it hard for him to ever have enough time to be properly intimate with you. At any moment, he was liable to completely disappear from the current plane of existence due to his debt with a few powerful witches. You never found out who they were; but secretly, you thanked them for giving you just enough leeway to dodge out of his advances.

The game continued, and the tactics the brothers used became bolder with every attempt you managed to escape. Eventually, you realized that if you didn’t give at some point, the tension between them would only mount and create chaos among them.

Unsurprisingly, it was the Avatar of Lust that took it upon himself to break the ice and blow the game wide open for them all.

“Are you free after classes?” Asmodeus asked over breakfast. There was a brief moment of apprehension that passed through the other brothers when they heard his question. With all eyes on him, Asmodeus played off any nervousness he had by flaunting the attention he was receiving. He carried on with the conversation as if he wasn’t getting barely hidden glares from the others. “I just got the cutest outfit in the mail, and I want to show it to you if you’ve got time. You have a good eye for fashion, right?”

You checked your calendar, mumbling incoherently while you contemplated his offer. The Avatar of Lust truly lived up to his name, being ostentatious with his suggestions and leaving nothing to the imagination. There was no doubting his ulterior motive, but it didn’t stop you from gently trying to push him away. “There’s a test at the end of the week I need to study for,” you said while scrolling through all your tasks for the week.

“Oh please, with how quickly you pick everything up, it’ll be a breeze for you to pass it,” Asmodeus dismissed your excuse with a nonchalant wave of his hand. He could tell you weren’t convinced and quickly tried to strike up a deal with you to keep the advantage he had over his brothers. “How about I help you study after you take a look? What subject is it on?”

You double checked your schedule, realizing you weren’t going to get out of his offer so easily. He was being much more persistent than his brothers had been. To do it so publicly almost felt like he was trying to send a message to the others. After putting off answering as long as you could, scrutinizing your schedule over and over again, you gave in and just went with the first class on your schedule. “Demon Biology.”

Asmodeus’ grinned from ear to ear. “Oh, I have the best notes for that class, and they can be all yours for just coming over and having a looksie. Sounds like a good deal, right?”

Beside you, you could feel Satan physically bristle at his brother’s thinly veiled intentions. Asmodeus didn’t have to say it, but everyone at the table seemed to know what his ultimate plan was. Sure, he was afforded some slack due to his general nature; but he was pushing the unwritten limits that had been set. You weren’t even sure if you should continue to play dumb; but the less they knew about what you surmised about their game, the better. In the end, the choice was yours; and you couldn’t afford to be too conspicuous when it came to how much you had gathered.

“Well, if that’s all I have to do for some notes to pass this test, how can I deny your generous offer?” You smiled sweetly, noticing the tension in the room grow as the agreement was made. The balance of power had been tipped in Asmodeus’ favor within the span of a few minutes.

“Great! I’ll see you after class then. You know where my room is.” He blew you a quick kiss and skipped off to get ready for his day.

You expected a great upheaval between the brothers after such a proposal from Asmodeus. Surprisingly enough, there was minimal fuss over it, further proving to you that there was a plot brewing among them where cooperation on all sides was necessary. The most dissent came from Mammon who was adamant about walking you to your classes and would spend the whole time grumbling about his brother’s audacity to pull such a stunt in front of everyone. Despite all the complaining, he didn’t try to stop you from visiting Asmodeus after your classes as promised.

You expected to be a little nervous, but you didn’t think your hands would be shaking as you knocked tentatively on Asmodeus’ door. The Avatar of Lust warmly welcomed you in, already dressed and waiting for your arrival. A large fluffy robe covered his newest precious outfit, but you could see bits of lace peeking out from under the collar. Oh boy, this will be good. You raised a brow, eyeing what might be hidden. He caught your glance and chuckled, pulling the robe tighter around him before beckoning you into his room.

Even if he tried to be stealthy about it, it was very difficult to ignore how he locked the door behind him while you got comfortable.

“I’m so glad you could make it. I wanted you to be the first person I showed this to,” he pitched his voice a bit lower, adding the slightest hint of a seductive purr at the end of his words. You sat at the edge of his bed and set your things down. Asmodeus was being quite the tease, twirling around and letting just hints of his ensemble show. You caught glimpses of shiny black leather trimmed with plenty of fine black lace. He was being a showoff, and he knew it.

“Well, I might be the only person you get to show this to if you’re going to make me wait three weeks before the great reveal.”

Asmodeus let out a laugh before he finally let the robe drop, showing off the new ensemble in its entire glory. It was quite the sight seeing him decked in all that leather and lace. The outfit clung to him like a second skin, flattering his figure in the best way possible. You had an idea it was going to be risque, but no amount of mental preparation was enough for you to be ready for the sight before you. The accenting jewels he chose to wear in champagne and pink complimented the black if only because they matched his hair and eyes.

“Well, what do you think?”

“I don’t think anyone but you could pull that off, Asmodeus,” you replied truthfully.

He laughed, his eyes glittering with mirth at your compliment. “Oh please, you know you can just call me Asmo. I’d like to think we’re familiar enough for nicknames.” He twirled again, and there was a brief flash of light accompanied by a rustling sound. Once you blinked away the bleariness from the sudden bright light, you saw that he had changed into his true form.

The low back of the dress allowed for his wings to freely move making you wonder if this was a custom piece or if it was something he found on a whim. His wings peeking out past his shoulders only added to the aesthetic appeal of the ensemble as a whole. Asmodeus relished in the attention you gave him, posing and giving you his best angles. “It looks so much better like this, right?”

You nodded dumbly. There was no denying the Avatar of Lust was stunning, even in his human form. However, seeing him in his full glory, his horns and wings on full display, only seemed to elevate his look to a whole different level. His hand traveled down his abdomen, tracing the intricate lacework. He could tell your gaze was following his fingers; and he looked over at you, a playful smirk on his lips. “I take it as you like what you see?”

“It’s hard not to like something so… aesthetically pleasing,” you tried to sound nonchalant, but there was a definite waver in your voice. You knew his charms were useless against you. That had been established when you first met. However, the heated gazes he gave you and the lowered pitch of his voice was awakening things in you that you had tried to avoid thinking about since your arrival at Devildom.

You tried to look anywhere around you but at Asmo, the outfit he had on really was doing things to your libido you hadn’t expected. Furtively glancing over to the clock on the dresser, you noticed just how long you had been there and decided a change of subject was in order. If you could get out of this, you would have dodged yet another attempt from one of them. “Oh, so about those notes...” you started.

“Oh, yes. I was wondering when you would ask me,” Asmodeus giggled, a playful smirk spread across his delicate features as he continued to prance around his room. Eventually he stopped teasing you and pulled out a notebook to hand to you. While you flipped through, he lounged in bed next to you, the smirk never quite leaving his face.

“Wait. Uh… are you sure this is the right book?”

“Oh of course, I wouldn’t dream of giving you the wrong one.”

“Asmo, the pages are blank.”

“Oh, I know,” he giggled, his eyes crinkling up with mirth as you stared at him in confusion. He coyly lifted the skirt to his outfit to reveal he hadn’t bothered to wear any undergarments. “It’s better if you got some hands-on experience, right? The upcoming test is on anatomy after all,” he gave you a sly wink and giggled.

You couldn’t avert your eyes fast enough before getting an eyeful of what Asmo was packing as a demon. Even if you covered your eyes, you couldn’t avoid hearing him giggle gleefully at your reaction as you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “Aww come on now, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. This is natural,” he cooed, petting your hair softly.

He guided your hand to feel him, letting you feel every curve and ridge of his dick. You didn’t want to look. It was too awkward for you to do so; but with a little coaxing, you eventually cracked open your eyes to take in just what you were feeling. It was a little odd to admit it, but his cock was pretty. Slim and tapered, your hand could easily wrap itself around his length. With a little more vocal encouragement, your fingers did eventually find their way round his cock. You gave him an experimental little pump partially to feel how his skin shifted and felt under your hand and partially to see his reaction. He let out a soft mewl of appreciation at the friction and rolled his hips up to meet your hand. “Feel free to ah…take as many notes as you’d like.”

His eyes were lidded, the irises blown out and darkening his light colored eyes. It only added to the sensuality of the moment as he laid next to you, letting you explore every inch of him for the sake of ‘studying.’ You could hardly believe it was happening yourself. His hand held onto your wrist firmly and continued to guide your hand to stroke him at a slow, lazy pace.

As your attention was occupied with what was in between his legs, he pulled you in with his free hand to press soft kisses at the corner of your mouth. They were quick, soft and a little hesitant at first; but when you didn’t immediately pull away from him, he became bolder, gliding his lips over your own and nipping at your lower lip, hoping to gain access to go deeper. With your mind short circuiting from all the sensations you were experiencing all at once, you gasped for breath; and that was all the permission he needed to deepen the kiss. His tongue swiped over your lips just once before delving into your mouth.

Kisses with the Avatar of Lust were unlike any you experienced before. Perhaps it was the centuries of practice he had with other partners, or perhaps it was his innate charm as the Avatar of Lust that made his kisses feel like a full body experience. You didn’t even feel embarrassed about feeling him up any longer as his kisses were what ultimately made you feel overwhelmed. The scent of new leather laced through the smell of his citrusy cologne and made for an absolutely intoxicating combination.

His hips jerked into your hand as he really got into it with you, the ridged texture under your fingers was firm yet pliant at the same time. His soft whimpers in your ears only emboldened you to explore more of his length. You traced the tapered tip carefully, watching his reactions. It seemed to be a rather sensitive spot considering he stopped kissing you just to let out a lewd moan and grind his length into your hand. His kisses trailed away from your lips to your jaw and to your ear where he licked and nipped right at your pulse point, enjoying the salt of your sweat as the room was quickly becoming warm.

Asmo let out soft whimpers almost akin to a coo every time you stroked him just right. His vocal appreciation egged you on, allowing you to stroke him with more confidence once you figured out just what he liked. He simply looked ravishing in that dress; and you needed to make sure you properly thanked him for not only the extensive notes he was giving you, but also the lovely little show as well.

Eventually, he pulled away from you if only to roll you onto your back and give your body as much attention as your hand had given him. Asmo gently put your arms at your side, murmured reassurances that he would take care of you while he slowly undid every layer of your uniform. If there was one thing he excelled at, it was making you anticipate his next move. He was slow and methodical, admiring every inch of skin he revealed; and he always had a compliment at the ready to make you blush even more under his watchful gaze.

“Beautiful. Just beautiful. Every bit of you,” he murmured before taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking on it.

You wailed, feeling his tongue lave at your sensitive skin. In fear of the others hearing your lewd exchange with Asmodeus, you quickly clasped your hands over your mouth to muffle your noises. He looked up at you from his place at your chest and laughed softly, putting your hands back at your sides. “No, no. Please be as loud as you wish. I want everyone to know exactly what’s going on here.”

You bit your lip, not sure if you could follow his demands; but the heat simmering in his eyes convinced you to comply. Once he was sure your hands would remain at your side, he went right back to what had been doing, redoubling his efforts on your nipple and making you whimper in need from his ministrations. He loved hearing every one of the sounds that came from your lips, and he was sure the others could hear just what he could do to you on the other side of his door. After the stunt he pulled at the table earlier that day, there was no way his brothers wouldn’t eavesdrop.

You surprisingly still had your panties on, but Asmodeus made quick work of them, peeling them off of you once he was sure your body was willing to accept him. Seeing you completely bare beneath him was absolutely breathtaking. He stared for a moment in awe, making you feel entirely too self conscious; and you curled up a bit to shy away from his heated gaze. “No,” he stated firmly, once again placing your arms at your side. “I want to see all of you.”

“Okay, you’ve seen it now, how about evening the playing field? You’ve got a lot more on than I do.”

“Oh, I do. How rude of me. Let me fix that.”

You felt his weight leave the bed momentarily. Looking up at where he went, you realized he had given you front row seats to a most sensual strip tease.

The only real garment he wore was that leather and lace dress. However, he somehow made taking it off feel like an eternity. From showing off his assets whenever he bent over to the slow pull of the zipper at the side of the dress, you felt like every second he wasn’t spending on top of you was another second that made your arousal reach the unbearable breaking point.

“Asmo, please…” you whined, “Stop teasing…this isn’t fair.”

He liked it when you were whiny. The way you pitched your voice in that desperate whimper broke the last bit of control he had. Whatever other teasing he had planned was thrown out the window in favor of shucking the dress right off so he could settle himself between your legs. His cock pressed at your soaking entrance. “You say please so prettily, I can’t resist.”

He pushed into you, and your hands almost flew to your mouth again to cover the lewd moan that came from your lips. He stretched you just right, fitting into your warm heat as if he was meant to be there. Your moan faded into a satisfied sigh as you felt him fill you. He smiled softly, memorizing the way your eyelids fluttered and the blissful look on your face when he bottomed out inside of you. “That’s a good look,” he purred, giving you a moment to adjust to his cock.

The time he gave you really wasn’t needed, he filled you but didn’t stretch you out in a way that made it painful. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck and pulled him in for a hot kiss, your hips flexing as a wordless command for him to move.

He complied eagerly, moaning into your kisses and starting a pace that wasn’t unlike the one he guided your hand into earlier. It let you feel every ridge and bump of his cock slide in and out of you. He knew your first experience with a demon would be unlike any other coupling you had before. He wanted to make it special; and with all his experience as the Avatar of Lust, he sure was able to make you see stars and feel like you were drowning in pleasure.

It was an entirely new type of euphoria you were feeling, and you were quickly beginning to crave more of it. Your legs wrapped around his hips, and you desperately met every one of his slow thrusts in an attempt to get him to give you more. He quickly got the message and picked up the pace once he was confident you were well accustomed to his unique shape.

The change in speed and intensity was just what you needed to satiate your desires. He knew exactly what his cock could do, and he took advantage of it as he fucked you in earnest. The lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed off his walls, your breathy moans mingled with his grunts of pleasure as you both lost yourselves in the throes of ecstasy while chasing your release.

He could make you see stars and the ends of the universe with his cock and it wasn’t long before the building pressure in your abdomen of your oncoming orgasm was reaching its breaking point. You called for him, encouraging him with your jilted moans every time he buried himself inside of you. His skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat from the exertion which only seemed to add to your overwhelming arousal.

“Oh fuck,” you choked back a sob as your orgasm washed over you like a wave. Intense and all consuming, your body convulsed as you reached your peak long before he was ready for his own release.

“You’re even more beautiful when you cum,” he panted, starry eyed and amazed at how tightly your inner walls were hugging his cock. “Makes me wish I was rutting right now so I could breed you over and over again. We would make the cutest babies.”

The primal, almost feral way his words sounded only made your walls clench around him even more. For as sensitive as they were, they reacted to him and craved more. He wasn’t done yet, and it seemed like he would continue until he reached his own blissful peak within you.

You weren’t able to keep up with the sensations of his cock still sliding in and out of your swollen walls. Everything became a blur of lust and desire. Your throat felt hoarse from screaming so much; you didn’t want anymore despite what your trembling body craved.

Eventually you could feel a change in Asmodeus’ pace as the even thrusts became erratic, and the volume of his moans matched the pitch of your screams. He gratefully unloaded himself, spilling his seed into you in hot spurts. Your name mixed with a variety of curses in a language you could only imagine was demonic in nature. He groaned, burrowing his head in the crook of your neck as he rode out his climax.

As soon as the brunt of his orgasm was over, he was kissing you deeply, wordlessly thanking you for the intimate moment the two of you had just shared. There was a fair bit of passion in his kisses though the needy heat from before had dissipated now that both of you had found the release you craved. He pulled away with a content sigh, rolling to your side and pulling out of you.

“So, do you think you got some good notes in?” he asked while he gazed lovingly into your eyes, brushing away a stray strand of hair away from your face. “Or do you need some more studying?”

You giggled, your skin still sensitive from such an intense session. “I think I’ll be able to pass with flying colors,” you reassured, rolling closer to him to get some much needed post coital cuddles.

#Obey me! Smut #Obey Me! Fanfic #Obey me! Asmodeus #Shall we date Asmodeus #My writing #i'm trash you're trash we're all trash #Commission work

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yodawgiherd · 4 years ago

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You Were Never Truly Gone ch.7

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Slowly but surely, we move towards Hizuru... And the end.

“No”

Kiyomi took a step back, her eyes the widest Mikasa had ever seen.

“No…”

Ignorant to her pleadings Eren took a step forward, closing the distance.

“No, no, no…”

It was a mantra falling from the older woman’s lips, repeated over and over in hopes that it will rewrite the reality, change what she was seeing. The man that destroyed her home country – nay, the whole world, the man that she feared more than death itself, the man that was the sole reason why getting Mikasa to move was difficult, the man who was dead and the whole world celebrated the fact.

The usurper, the devil, her worst nightmare.

Even with the sorry excuse for a beard and new haircut it was undeniably him, Kiyomi would recognize those eyes anywhere. Sure, they were missing the maniacal glint she remembered, but still. This was no Aaron, Mikasa’s friend – this was Eren Yeager.

With every step he took towards her, Kiyomi took one backward until her back hit the ship’s railing. Looking back, she briefly considered jumping over it in hopes to escape him, yet her mind quickly debunked such a coward’s exit. Whatever this was, Kiyomi Azumabito would overcome it, she came this far. Fingers clutching at the metal, she pulled in some air through her tightly wound throat, ready to call for help, for her soldiers to come and immediately kill this monster in human form, but the words never left her mouth.

Because Mikasa spoke first.

“I don’t know if I have to say it - if anything happens to Eren our deal is off. Immediately.”

Kiyomi, too shocked to speak, looked at her, seeing that Mikasa was completely serious. Her eyes were ice itself when she continued, unphased.

“If you harm him, I swear that I will kill you myself before leaving forever – I don’t care in the slightest about what happens to the world with me gone. The Yeagerists can burn Paradis, the war can consume it, Hizuru can devour itself in its never-ending power struggle.”

Sweat, cold sweat was trickling down Kiyomi’s forehead as her mind weighed the pros and cons.

“You don’t have to worry, I’m a normal human now.”, Eren extended a palm towards her almost like a peace offering, “should I cut myself to prove it?”

“Don’t insult me, I’m not that stupid,” Kiyomi scoffed, “I know that you shifters can hold off the healing if you want to.”

“That is true, but he’s not lying.”, Mikasa stepped in, “Everyone lost their powers after the rumbling, you know that much, so why should Eren keep his?”

“Because he is supposed to be dead?!”, Kiyomi hissed, “His head being cut off is what even enabled any peace talks in the first place, he can’t just resurrect and….”

“That’s the thing – I didn’t.”, Eren spoke up, “Eren Yeager is truly dead, gone forever. Right now I’m Aaron, Mikasa’s friend and someone you never met in your life.”

His eyes were staring into Kiyomi’s now, and damn his gaze was intense.

“You are afraid and for a good reason, but there is nothing to fear from me anymore. I’m just a guy, and what can one man do in a country that practically belongs to you? I can’t re-start the rumbling simply because I wish it so, there are no more titans left anywhere in this world.”

Her throat dry, Kiyomi managed to croak an answer.

“No powers then?”

He shook his head.

“None.”

The facts were doing a small dance in Kiyomi’s head, turning left and right as she stared at them from all angles. If he had no powers, why tell her? Wouldn’t it be better for him if Eren kept her in suspense? Let her believe that he was still the titan, to blackmail her, scare her?

Then again….

All titans did disappear, so he was probably saying the truth. Kiyomi didn’t understand why he would ever give up such a weapon willingly, but she was not the one to question her fortune – it meant that she was dealing with Eren Yeager the man, not Eren Yeager the founding titan.

Bah, so what – Mikasa was the one she wanted, not him. Looking at the pair, seeing them together it brought back the unfortunate fact the Ackerman girl told her back during their negotiations.

“So… this means that you two are lovers?”

It was funny, seeing the literal devil and the world’s strongest soldier exchange a shy blushing look, yet in her current mental state Kiyomi couldn’t fully appreciate the sight.

“Yes.”, Mikasa reached out, intertwining her fingers with Eren’s, “ We are.”

The old woman always had a suspicion that something is going on between the two of them, ever since she first came to the island, and a part of her was scared that the “maiden” she was supposed to deliver back home was tainted already. Well, it did happen, although much later than she thought.

No matter.

She didn’t need a blushing virgin to present to the ruling council, she had this- a strong soldier, a beautiful woman, a hero to most of the world, and most importantly an unquestionable Shogun’s descendant. Deflowered of her innocence, sure, but that was nothing compared to the blood in her veins. Through her, the royal line would be restored and Hizuru would once more have a symbol to unite behind, a thing they sorely needed in these trying times following the rumbling.

Now with finality, Kiyomi was fully considering her options.

She could call for help and have Eren killed, heavens know that he deserved it. If he was a normal human, as he claimed, he would die without any issues. After that, she would order her guards to capture Mikasa and lock her up.

What then?

Would she present the blood of the Shogun in chains? Kiyomi couldn’t say that she truly knew Mikasa Ackerman, still there were things she did know – for example, the old woman was sure that Mikasa would never forgive her. There would be no peaceful wedding, and god forbid any wedding night. Sure, they could drug her, or maybe try to persuade her but Mikasa had a will of steel. She would most likely kill her new husband, escape her cell and then come for Kiyomi.

Scary thought, it made the old woman shiver.

If not that….

She could have Eren captured and use him as a bargaining chip with Mikasa. Force her into the marriage under threats of torture or death to her lover, use their bond against her. The problem would still be present – Mikasa wasn’t the forgiving kind. She would probably wait years until Kiyomi dropped her guard or until she gained enough influence to overthrow the old woman. Then she would free Eren and there would be a slow death waiting for her, deep under the royal palace with nothing but the dark corners to hear her scream.

Ok, not that either.

Kiyomi had to remind herself that neither of these options was even guaranteed to play out as she envisioned it to. Maybe Eren didn’t have powers anymore, but he was still an ex-soldier, an elite one too, and Mikasa was an Ackerman and a literal goddess on the battlefield. There was always the possibility that they would overpower the guards and escape together, never to be seen again.

Returning home empty-handed, now that was something Kiyomi didn’t want to happen.

Which left her with the last option.

Go along with it. Let Eren hide in Hizuru, let Mikasa have him as a secret partner. The city was Kiyomi’s playground, she had more than enough resources to make sure her conditions were met. And as long as Mikasa produced the Shogun’s heir, then why couldn’t she have some happiness in her life too? If she was happy, then she would be obedient, and wasn’t that everything the old woman wanted?

What was there to lose?

Kiyomi hated it, hated this opinion because it meant letting Eren live and be with the woman he loved. She hated it - he didn’t deserve it, he was a monster and death was his rightful punishment. She hated it because it was the most logical route, one that yielded the highest chance of success.

The things she does for her country….

“Very well,”, Kiyomi said out loud, addressing Mikasa “As long as you uphold the limitations we talked about, I will not try to take him from you.”

Steeling herself, she took a step forward and jabbed a finger into Eren’s chest. Please don’t tremble.

“You will behave, or I will have you imprisoned on a moment’s notice. It’s no secret that I would prefer you dead, but since lady Mikasa has ties to you for some reason, that option is off the table.”, she jabbed him again with added strength, “If you step out of line, I will have you punished. Understand?”

For some reason, her threatening tactics didn’t seem to reach Eren, who simply stood there with a completely blank expression on his bearded face.

“Yes, I do.”

Fine. In the end it truly didn’t matter as Kiyomi had nothing to gain from exposing Eren Yeager to the world. Having him killed for the second time would do nothing for the stability in her country, she needed Mikasa for that and she needed her compliant. If that meant hiding the world’s worst enemy…

So be it.

“Then nothing changes in the original plan.”, her eyes found the Ackerman’s gaze, “Does it, lady Mikasa?”

The raven shrugged.

“No, everything is as it was.”

“Very good. I would ask that you give me some space, I do agree to let you live but I don’t want to see you right now, Yeager.”

Taking a step back, he had the audacity to give her a shallow, perhaps mocking, bow.

“As you wish, lady Azumabito.”

Together with Mikasa they disappeared back towards the cabin the Ackerman girl had for herself, leaving Kiyomi with nothing, only her thoughts. Pressing her lips into a thin line, she looked back towards the ocean with the mind swimming.

She really craved a smoke right now.

Eren and Mikasa didn’t talk until they were in the privacy of her chambers, quite a luxurious cabin that was much better than the cargo hold. Once there, Eren tugged on her hand and pulled Mikasa into an embrace, whispering only for her to hear.

“You are quite the actor.”

“Oh please, you are the one to talk – those slow steps you took towards Kiyomi?,”, she snorted, ”Terrifying.”

“You said that you wouldn’t care about what happened to the world. You, who saved it and would do anything to keep the peace.”

“Well, the most important thing is that it worked, my plan is going along swimmingly.”

“Indeed, you are a genius Miki, but I have to remind you that we are not out of the woods yet.”

“I know. It’s no use to worry about that now, let’s take it one step at a time, shall we?”

Humming in agreement, Eren’s eyes traveled all around the room until they landed on Mikasa’s big bed, the covers adorned by the crest of her clan. A new idea forming in his mind, he grinned before getting her attention with a quick kiss.

“Wanna piss Kiyomi off?”

“What do you mean?”, following his gaze, Mikasa saw that Eren was looking at the bed, a smile on his face.

“We could let her know just how much we love each other….”

Oh, she liked that train of thought.

“Do go on…”

The night was falling, the ship being oddly empty when Kiyomi walked the corridors. There were a few guards who saluted her, sailors who quickly got out of her way as if sensing the dark thoughts. The cloud was still hanging over her head and she couldn’t stop thinking about what happened, how it jumbled her whole plan.

Eren Yeager was alive. Eren Yeager was alive. Eren Yeager was al…

A frown appeared on her face when she saw a soldier leaning on the railing with a lit cigarette in his hand, an uneasy expression creasing his features. She knew the man, and he was not supposed to be smoking but on duty.

“Captain!”, she called out, “Aren’t you guarding lady Mikasa’s cabin?”

The soldier went white in the face as he quickly saluted, the butt of the cigarette hastily thrown the ocean.

“Yes ma’am! However, there were certain…” he gulped, “circumstances that made me take a small break.”

Kiyomi’s brows furrowed. What was he talking about? What was Mikasa doing?

“Such as?”

“I... I mean… I wouldn’t…”, the man was sweating profusely, babbling like a baby and Kiyomi was running out of patience.

Especially after being traumatized by god damn Eren Yeager today, she wasn’t in the mood for games or tight-lipped subordinates.

“Speak!”, she barked, “Or I will have you on shit shoveling duty for a year after we get back to Hizuru.”

“W-Well La-lady Mikasa and her f-friend are.. engaged in… you know….”

“What? What are you…”, and just then it dawned on Kiyomi, the blush, and impaired speech, the way he avoided her eyes. It fell on her like a rock, and she asked in a voice that mirrored how she felt.

“Are they having sex?”

The soldier clicked his heels together as he straightened into an absurdly perfect salute.

“Yes ma’am! Very loudly ma’am! I felt like I was intruding, so I gave them some privacy ma’am!”

Oh…

That was about everything Kiyomi could handle today. Walking over to the soldier she extended her hand and luckily he understood the gesture, quickly giving her a cigarette and lighting it for her. Leaning on the railing next to the flabbergasted man, she smoked in silence, staring into the darkness.

Underneath them, the boat silently carried this whole circus towards Hizuru.

Kiyomi smoked one, two, three cigarettes before calling it a day and retreating to her cabin, only to discover that another unpleasantry awaited her there.

Apparently, being an Ackerman and a former titan shifter gives you some insane endurance. Unfortunately for her, Kiyomi’s cabin was located right next to Mikasa’s and she could very clearly hear just how much the pair were still enjoying themselves. To make matters worse, it went on for hours and the old woman couldn’t rest because of it, despite being exhausted and mentally drained.

Instead of peaceful sleep she stared at the darkened ceiling, listening to the moans, giggles, groans, screams, and muffled conversation between the future Shogun’s wife and the cursed island devil.

This was purgatory for all her past sins, must have been, and Kiyomi felt her eye twitch in irritation. How much damn stamina did those two have? Would they ever get tired of this? Would Kiyomi be allowed to sleep tonight or would her whole night be spent like this, stuck in limbo with nothing but a rhythmic banging of the headboard against the wall accompanied by the bed creaking and the telltale sounds Mikasa was making.

Didn’t help that the name she was moaning was of the man Kiyomi despised - It would seem that Eren stopped being Aaron in the heat of passion.

Just as she was about to bang on the wall, damn her dignity, they finally stopped, growing silent.

“You think she heard us?”, Mikasa muttered, exhausted beyond belief.

“She had to,”, Eren grumbled, in no better shape himself, “You were so loud that I’m pretty sure the whole ship knew what we were doing.”

If she wasn’t totally flushed already, that statement would make her blush.

“That was kind of the point.”

“It was nice of you though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Now Yams knows what’s up, despite not being able to see us.”

Gasping, Mikasa slapped Eren’s chest and he laughed and nuzzled her sweaty hair. They were both like that, dirty, and overall quite disgusting. Like that mattered, considering the paradise they took each other to.

“C’mon, we should get cleaned up.”

“Should change the bedding too…”

“Why? Have someone else do it,”, gently, Eren traced the curve of Mikasa’s spine with careful fingers, counting the bumps, “You are a princess, you should get used to having people clean up your mess.”

“You know that I’m not like that….”

“I do, but why not abuse your status a little.”

Her eyes narrowed as she watched him, not missing the spark of laughter in his face.

“You’re evil.”

“Of course, I am the island devil after all.”

Giggling, Mikasa angled her head and waited until Eren got the hint, giving her a tired and slow kiss.

“You know, what?”, she murmured against his lips, “You’re right, let them clean it.”

The laugh that bubbled from Eren’s chest was addicting to listen to.

“See? You are finally learning, your highness.”

“Shut up.”

“As you command, my queen.”

“Eren…”

“Yes, my lady?”

She groaned, hiding her face in his neck yet Eren wouldn’t let her rest, kissing all of her skin he could reach with tiny pecks. Maybe it was the kisses, maybe it was the way he held her, maybe it was because they were both naked and Mikasa did like what he was packing. Whatever the reason, the embers she thought exhausted smoldered deep in her belly.

“Babe?”, she drawled, immediately getting his attention because Eren knew that voice she used.

It was the sensual one that sent shivers down his spine whenever the raven spoke.

“Do you think that Kiyomi finally fell asleep?”, she asked.

“I guess? Maybe? Why do you ask?”

“Well…”, with a quick move she straddled him again, reclaiming her rightful position on top.

Seated as she was, Mikasa reached blindly between her legs to touch his length, finding it half-hard already – such power her bedroom voice had over Eren’s body. To be honest, she did like that control. Mikasa leaned down until her nipples brushed Eren’s chest and her lips were practically touching his, rubbing together when she spoke.

“Let’s wake her up then.”

#eremika #fanfic #snk

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worryinglyinnocent · 4 years ago

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Fic: Cinnamon Rolls

Summary: Rushbelle. Belle is missing Earth. Rush manages to put his foot in it until he learns the deeper reason for Belle’s distress. This acts as a prequel to my previous fic Whispers, but it can stand alone as well.

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling October moodboard prompt, available here.

Rated: T

===

Cinnamon Rolls

“I miss cinnamon rolls.”

Rush paused in his contemplation of what had affectionately become known as ‘Rush’s Wall of Mathematical Madness’ and looked over at Belle. She was staring into the middle distance, playing with the chalk between her fingers and very obviously several million miles away from Destiny.

“Pardon?”

“I miss cinnamon rolls. I miss all proper food. Roast lamb with all the trimmings, lobster, chocolate fondant, steak sandwiches… But most of all, I miss cinnamon rolls. I’m beginning to think that I might never eat them again. I know I’ve gone back to earth and eaten them via the stones, but it’s not the same when it’s not your own taste buds, and inevitably I have to come back here to this body, whose taste buds only remember protein gloop and the odd things we’ve managed to grow in hydroponics.” She sighed, finally looking over at Rush. “I miss Earth,” she said simply. “I want to go home. I know that what we’re doing out here is important, discovering the key to life, the universe and everything, and I understand why you feel the need to keep chasing that until the end. But I want to go home, Nick. I’m tired of this. I can’t cope with it anymore.”

It was the longest speech that Belle had made to him for days. She had been subdued and withdrawn for a long time, and now he knew why. Rush gave an inward sigh. He was not a good boyfriend. A good boyfriend would have noticed that Belle’s behaviour was off and would have asked about it, instead of just shrugging it off as one of those inexplicable quirks of human interaction that he didn’t currently have time for, then going about his day.

In Rush’s defence, though, he had never claimed to be a good boyfriend when he and Belle had first got together. In fact, he had explicitly stated that he was probably going to be a very bad one. Belle knew what she was getting into and she’d stuck by him for almost a year and a half. All the same, it did make him feel a bit guilty. He turned back to the wall, trying to distract himself from the unwelcome feeling.

“Do you miss anything about Earth?” Belle asked. There was something hard and accusatory in her tone, and Rush didn’t like it. He bristled.

“Of course I do.”

“Apart from a whiteboard and a limitless supply of dry-erase markers, and anything else that would make your job here easier?”

That stung, and Rush turned to her.

“Of course I miss Earth. I miss normal food and normal showers with running water like everyone else, but unlike everyone else, I can put that aside in order to get on with the task at hand!” He indicated the wall, annoyed that he’d lost his train of thought.

“Jesus, Nick, are you even listening to yourself? Are you even human?” Belle got up from her position cross-legged on the floor. Rush knew he’d said the wrong thing, but since he had no idea what the right thing was, he opted to keep his mouth shut.

Belle threw her hands up in defeat. “We had a life, before all this happened! We had a nice, normal, happy life, and we may never have that life again, and I miss that life! I miss coming to your house and sitting in front of your fireplace and talking about things that were in no way, shape or form related to astrophysics! I miss dating! I miss having you all to myself and not having to share you with a spaceship that’s falling apart at the seams! I miss that life, and you have the audacity to stand there and infer that the life I miss is just a distraction! That it was never as important to you as this new life is!”

There was a long pause, and Belle shook her head. “I deserve more respect than that, Nick.”

She left the corridor then, no doubt going back to the cool and calm of the hydroponics lab where she spent most of her time, caring for her little seedlings and helping build their new life here on Destiny even as she longed for her old one back home. Her footsteps echoed eerily along the metal corridors, and Rush turned back to his wall again. At the end of the day they would both calm down and everything would be just about ok again, although this did seem to be a hurdle that they were destined to come back to.

It must have gone deeper than just missing Earth. Belle had expressed how much she missed Earth before, but it had always been in a more wistful tone, like she expected never to see it again and was nostalgic for the time they’d had there. Rush had thought that she’d made her peace with Destiny becoming their permanent home just as much as he had. This longing was something very different, and it perturbed him more than their argument had.

He did value Belle, of course he did, and he had loved the time they’d spent together on Icarus and on Earth. He loved her, and he could never think that she, or their relationship, was a distraction. He just wasn’t very good at expressing that, especially not when there were so many other things pressing in at the edges of his mind.

Perhaps he did take her for granted in a way, a kind of comfortable reassurance that she would always be there and would always forgive him no matter what else might come their way. He thought that they had done very well to be able to keep their relationship going amid all the stresses of their stranding - perhaps the fact that no-one else on Destiny seemed to have realised that they were even in a relationship at all helped - but now, things looked like they were falling apart and he knew that he could not rely on having Belle there in the background like she had always been.

It was not a happy thought.

Belle came back to the corridor later in the day, leaning carefully against the wall so as not to smudge the chalk marks there.

“We need to talk,” she said. There was a quiet sadness in her voice, and Rush wondered, with a gnawing little feeling of ice in the pit of his stomach, if this was the moment when they fell apart; not explosively, not with hard words and shouting like there had been earlier, but with sadness and disappointment, like so many things fell apart. “We needed to talk earlier, and I was segueing into it but then I flew off the handle.”

“I know you miss Earth,” Rush began. “And honestly, I do miss it too.”

Belle shook her head. “It’s not that. Well, it’s not just that. It’s the terror of feeling like we may never get back there. It’s not so much the things on Earth that I miss as Earth itself. And I’ve always felt that way, and I’ve always managed to push it down and make the best of it, because what other choice did I have? But I can’t do it any longer.” She sighed, and her eyes were melancholy when they finally met his. She’d been crying, it was obvious. “I’m pregnant, Nick.”

For a long time, silence reigned supreme in the corridor. It was a heavy, all-encompassing silence that was screaming with the need to be filled. Although Rush had perfectly understood the three words that had just come out of Belle’s mouth, he was having a lot of trouble actually processing them and having them sink in and their full repercussions become known.

“What?” He wished that he didn’t sound so shocked, his voice choked in the back of his throat, but he knew that at least it sounded better than something flat and emotionless would have done. He had no idea how to react to the news. It was… Well, if he was being brutally honest with himself then he couldn’t say that it was entirely unexpected given their lack of resources on Destiny, but it had come so far out of the left field, so out of the blue that he simply hadn’t given any thought to it at all.

“I’m pregnant.” Belle gave a soft sigh, raising her hands as if to use them to illustrate her point - Belle was good at talking with her hands when she got excited, but she was far from excited now - and then just wrapping them around her chest like she was trying to hold herself together. “I mean, we’re still having sex even though I ran out of my Pill three months ago. It’s not exactly like this wasn’t a risk.”

Rush gave a slow nod. “No, no I can see that.” He paused. “Are you sure? Are you sure it’s not just stress and bad diet making you skip a period?”

Belle nodded. “I’m sure. TJ has tests in the medical stock. She knows, but no one else does.”

Rush let them fall into silence again. His most primal instinct was telling him to swear and smack his fist against the wall, but he knew that would not help matters in the slightest. Belle was already standing on a knife edge, close to breaking point, and their relationship had already started to strain beneath the massive consequences of this news even before he’d been aware of it. Rush was not a social person by any manner or means and he was not a good boyfriend, but he retained enough interpersonal awareness to know that showing anger would be the worst reaction he could make.

This was not what he needed right now. It was not what he needed at any point in time if he was being honest. He’d never had any desire to be a father; it had never been on the cards with Gloria and he’d never spoken about it with Belle, but he’d assumed that she felt the same way as he did. He had never wondered if she might want to start a family.

All the same, even if she did want to, here on Destiny, stranded in the middle of nowhere on a quest to discover the origins of life and time itself, well, it was hardly the place to start one.

“So what happens now?” he asked. Whatever decision was going to be made, neither of them could make it alone. This was on both of them, this baby was a part of both of them.

Belle wiped her eyes.

“Now I need you to put me first, instead of this ship,” she said quietly. “We have so much to decide, so much to talk about. I want to be a mother, Nick. I want to have a baby, and God knows I want to have one with you. But at the same time, can we really justify bringing a child into this world?” She gestured around the corridor. “This would be so much easier if we were on Earth. But we might never get back there. I may never have a better world to bring a child into. So we are going to have to think long and hard about what we do next, and I need to know that no matter what happens, you’re with me, and no matter what happens, you think it will be worth it. I don’t want to feel like this is just a distraction from what you’re working towards. This is so much bigger than missing cinnamon rolls, Nick. This is missing opportunities. This is missing life.”

Rush came across and put his arms around her, welcoming her slight frame leaning against him. This was unexpected and unprecedented, and he still didn’t know how he was going to deal with it all in the long term, but even he could tell that it was time to put Destiny aside and focus on Belle.

There was a long and difficult road ahead for their relationship, no matter what the future might bring.

#A Monthly Rumbelling #rushbelle #anyelle #Belle French #Nicholas Rush #Fic: Cinnamon Rolls

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juliandev0rak · 4 years ago

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The Aunt 🔮

Five: The “Aunt” – how did your OC get the shop in Vesuvia? Was it given to them by their aunt or other family member?

echoes of the past event

@arcana-echoes

Beatrice and Freya Viano

Center City, Vesuvia

8 years before the events of The Arcana, Beatrice is 18, Freya is 22

takes place a few months after the events of my last echoes post

Words: 2152

Warnings: background character death, angst

“I want you to have the shop.” Aunt Cora says, gripping Beatrice’s hand as tightly as she can manage.

Aunt Cora has been sick for weeks with a mysterious illness. Her best guess for a cause is that a life spent pouring all of herself into her magic has left her weakened, making her more susceptible to illness. Beatrice has tried all of the magical healing she knows, but it’s no use. Cora’s condition deteriorates more every day, and it’s really only a matter of time before she’s gone.

“Aunt Cora, are you sure?” Beatrice frowns, shifting in her seat beside the bed. “Do you think I can handle the shop on my own?”

“I know you can, Beatrice, I trained you myself.” Cora smiles gently, patting Beatrice's hand. “I already had the will written up so it’s all official, you’re now the owner.”

“Aunt Cora..” Beatrice doesn’t know what to say, if she tries to talk she knows she’ll just burst into tears. Luckily, Cora seems to know what she means and pats her hand again in a soothing gesture.

“I believe in you Beatrice, you’re more powerful than you know. There’s a light in you, if you just keep trying to do what’s right you can’t fail.” Cora says and Beatrice nods hurriedly, trying to take the advice to heart. “I wish Freya could be here, I’d love to see her one more time.”

Beatrice stiffens at the mention of her older sister who she hasn’t seen in six years. Her sister hadn’t left on good terms, and she hasn’t had so much as a letter from her in the time that’s passed. Cora has occasionally heard from her, but the letters never make any mention of Beatrice and as the years have gone by the bitterness has festered.

“Would you write to her, Beatrice? I know you aren’t on the best of terms, but it would make an old woman happy to have both of her nieces here.” Cora says pleadingly. Beatrice sighs and gives her aunt a nod, she’ll do this for her.

The letter gets written, Beatrice is careful to make it ambiguous so her sister won’t now that she’s the one who sent it. There’s no response for weeks, and as Aunt Cora’s condition deteriorates even more it seems likely that Freya will not be coming. Beatrice continues to tell her aunt that surely she’ll be there soon, but before long Cora passes away and Beatrice is left alone to plan a funeral.

The day of the funeral dawns bright and sunny, Cora’s favorite type of weather, though Beatrice thinks rain would better suit her somber mood. She’s afraid of being alone and of running the shop by herself, she’s afraid that her magic isn’t strong enough, but most of all she’s devastated. Her aunt had practically raised her for the last few years after she’d left home, and the two were close. Everything she knows about magic she’d learned from Aunt Cora, and now she’s on her own.

The funeral is a small affair, Cora had only a few close friends and no relatives other than Beatrice and Freya. Her sister, Beatrice’s mother, still lives in the city but had disowned all of them a few years prior, so it’s highly unlikely that she’ll show up. After the simple ceremony the guests trickle away and Beatrice is left alone in a graveyard.

She’s glad for some alone time to mourn, but is quickly interrupted.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” A voice calls behind her and Beatrice whirls around to find her sister Freya standing there, looking older and more sophisticated than the last time she’d seen her.

“You-” Beatrice sputters, unable to think of what to say. She hadn’t prepared herself for this situation. she’d never expected Freya would actually show up. She struggles to think of what she could possibly say to the person who’d abandoned her at such a young age, the sister who had always been there when nobody else was until suddenly, she wasn't.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” Freya smiles, seemingly at ease despite the anger that clouds Beatrice’s mind.

“You shouldn’t have come.” Beatrice glares at her sister who is busy pulling her perfectly styled blonde hair out of a silk travelling scarf. She tosses her hair once and then turns to face Beatrice again, raising an eyebrow at her younger sister’s tone.

“I was invited.” Freya says, stepping closer to her sister. “I know you wrote that letter.”

“You were invited weeks ago, and I wasn’t the one who wanted you here.” Beatrice frowns, her anger simmering.

“I wanted to come pay my respects, Beatrice.” Freya steps even closer to look at the gravestone in front of her. “I’m sorry she’s gone.”

“Don’t pretend you care about her at all, don’t pretend Aunt Cora was anything other than a bank for you to borrow money from.” Beatrice spits. She can feel her magic rising in her alongside her temper but she has no intention of quelling it now.

“Now Beatrice, that wasn’t very nice. Where have your perfect manners gone?” Freya says haughtily, her face pulling into a mocking smile. “What would mother say?”

“Why did you really come back?” Beatrice asks, deciding to ignore the comment about their mother.

“To get what I’m owed.” Freya grins and Beatrice knows she’s finally struck the truth.

“Owed?”

“Yes, you see, Aunt Cora told me many years ago that the shop would be mine when she died, so I’ve come to collect.” Freya says nonchalantly, inspecting her manicured nails.

“She did not.” Beatrice nearly growls, “She left it to me. I have the deed.”

“Why would she leave it to you? I’m the eldest, it’s mine by rights.” Freya frowns, the confident facade cracking just a smidge.

“What do you want with the shop, Freya. You can’t even do magic.” Beatrice says, watching as Freya’s face grows cold.

“I can’t. You’re right, but at least I’ve made something of myself. What do you have to show for yourself?” Freya asks, voice dripping with acid.

“The shop is mine, Freya.” Beatrice takes a step closer to her sister, her fists balling up at her sides. She can’t believe the audacity of her sister to show up after six years of nothing demanding to own the one place Beatrice has ever truly called home.

“You were never a very good magician anyways, I think I’ll hire someone new to run the shop.” Freya says pensively, almost like she’s trying to goad Beatrice into a fight. It works.

“You don’t know anything about me.” Beatrice’s voice is ice cold, steadier than she thought it would be, as she stares Freya down. “You don’t know who I am.”

“Hmm I don’t know… seems like you’re still the same pathetic little girl you were when I left.” Freya taunts, circling around Beatrice like a bird of prey.

Before she can stop herself Beatrice’s hand lashes out to slap Freya across the face with more force than she thought possible. Freya falls back a step and her eyes grow wide as she stares at Beatrice in surprise. Beatrice stares back, just as surprised at herself.

“I suppose you think I deserved that?” Freya sighs, her hand going to cradle her red splotched cheek.

“You did.” Beatrice nods, taking a deep breath to try to calm herself down.

“That shop is supposed to be mine.” Freya hisses, her voice full of anger. Dispite the vitriol, something in her expression reminds Beatrice so vividly of the sister she used to know.

“I thought you hated Vesuvia, you were in such a hurry to leave. Why would you possibly want the shop?” Beatrice says.

“I do hate it here, but Vesuvia is supposed to be my home.” Freya turns to look at their Aunt’s grave again, “I promised I wouldn’t come back until I’ve made something of myself, and I have. The shop is mine.”

“This isn’t your home anymore.” Beatrice mutters. “It hasn’t ever been your home.”

“That isn’t fair!” Freya turns around again to meet Beatrice’s eyes.

“Yeah, well my life hasn’t been fair either.” She replies, sticking her hands into her cloak pockets. “You saw to that.”

“You can’t blame any of this on me, Beatrice. I had to leave.” Freya frowns, behind her eyes is the slightest hint of regret. She refuses to show that to Beatrice, as much as she wishes she could make things right with her little sister, she can’t be weak anymore

“Aunt Cora is dead. She’s gone.” Beatrice says, trying to hold the emotion from her voice. “Her final wish was to see you and you couldn’t even do that for her. Why would she leave you the shop, her home?”

“I couldn't get here earlier, believe me Beatrice I tried-” Freya says defensively, looking genuinely stricken for the first time in the conversation.

“Just save it Freya. You’re too late.” Beatrice gestures to the headstone which simply says Cora’s name on it. “You didn’t want to be a part of this family, so you don’t get to claim a right to anything.”

Freya stares at her in surprise once again, it seems she’d greatly underestimated how much her sister had grown up in the last few years. Little Beatrice would have let Freya have whatever she wanted, little Beatrice wouldn’t have fought back.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be right now, I figured I’d stick around for a while.” Freya tries to reason with her sister, maybe she can convince Beatrice to let her stay and she can figure out a way to transfer ownership. She thinks about the mess she’d left behind in the last city she’d lived in, she doesn’t have anywhere else to go.

“What happened to all of that success you bragged about?” Beatrice snaps. Freya is at a loss for words, stuck staring at the patchy grass. If there’s one thing Beatrice can’t stand it’s arrogance, and her sister seems to have plenty of it.

“Why don’t you do what you’re best at and just leave.” Beatrice says after a moment of tense silence.

“Fine.” Freya mutters, her face pulling into a grimace she tries to pull off as a smile. She’s lost every last shred of her dignity at this point, she won’t beg. “You’re right, I hate it here anyways.” She gathers her discarded scarf and bag and turns to leave.

“Aren’t you even going to apologize to me?” Beatrice calls after her, trying to blink back the sudden feeling of tears. “For leaving me here alone?” Freya turns to look at her over her shoulder and rolls her eyes.

“No, Beatrice. I’m not.” Freya scoffs, and then she’s off, walking quickly towards the cemetery gates. She’s soon out of sight and Beatrice collapses on the grass, finally allowing herself to cry.

She can hardly believe Freya had returned, and she truly couldn’t have imagined it going worse. She still can’t fathom her sister’s reason for returning, surely she didn’t want to run a magic shop. It’s like she came back specifically to rub salt into Beatrice’s wounds. She was just beginning to come to terms with being alone when Freya had shown up. If her sister had apologized, if she’d tried to make things right, if she’d shown any emotion other than pride and derision, maybe Beatrice would have asked her to stay.

She doesn’t know who the glamorous blonde dressed in designer clothes and a fake smile was, but it certainly wasn’t her sister. Or maybe, she fears, it was. Had her sister always been this selfish, this mean? Maybe she had.

Beatrice sits in the cemetery for what feels like hours, mourning her aunt, and mourning the sister she once knew. The sun begins to go down and the cold sets in. Beatrice sits shivering against the headstone, trying to collect herself enough to leave. Finally she manages to stand up and begin the journey back to the shop.

Her hands wave over the worn door as she unlocks the wards and she steps into the empty shop. This is hers now, and she’ll have to do it alone. She runs her hands over the smooth shop counters and takes in the smell of herbs, the smell of her aunt. When she’d arrived at the shop two years ago desperate to escape from the life that had been planned for her, desperate to find an outlet for her magic, desperate to learn, she had no idea how much she’d come to love this cluttered space.

This haven is for her. All of the books, the potion supplies, the tiny upstairs apartment, she can make them her own. She might have lost her family, but she still has a home. As long as she can keep the memory of her aunt alive, she’ll never be alone here.

#arcana eotp #apprentice beatrice #freya viano #this is the first interaction i came up with for them lol #back when i decided to give beatrice a sister i was like 'they're going to get into a physical fight at a funeral that's their energy"#beatrice says 'if you're rude i will not hesitate to slap a bitch'#maybe someday i'll write a fic about what went down in port tremaire after freya vowed revenge

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