#his fingers and toes were disintegrated when they found him

[imflyinoveryou]

me my mom and brother lived in a trailer for a year and it would get so fucking cold in there, so we would all get in the big bed and snuggle and watch he-man on satellite tv and talk for hours before falling asleep. my brother would always ask hypotheticals like "what if a man came in here in the middle of the night" and my mom would say something like "id kill him dead" and i would just laugh and laugh

[seneon]

MELANCHOLY ──── vampire! touya × fem! reader.

about. you drown in a melancholic pool, waiting for his awaken. vampire! au, set in 1930s, a few decades after bewitched ( part one ) very quick angst to romantic fluff. there's some gore tw all around. wc of 1K.

notes. proofread by @angeliicheartt i heart you

in the thirtieth year of the ninety century, there were countless reports of the lives and blood of the citizens rapidly decreasing. in other words, they were all found dead—body malnourished, skin rotting, gaze locked up to the sky that had seen everything played out before their last breath.

there was one thing they all had in common. two small bites on their neck. or anywhere around their body in general, starting from the head and down to the very tippy toes.

just like that, their soul has been sucked out. it was the work of vampires, vicious bloodsucking creatures who walked the same ground as a human would. except, they only walk during the night.

sunlight burned their skin. the day and brightness made them cry out in pain. their eyes will start to disintegrate at the sight of the brightest of colours.

what would humanity ever do when they found out there was one single vampire that roamed around the streets like any average woman? dressed and disguised as a bookseller in the day, teeth growing out to be a vampire during the dead of night.

to the citizens, you are the young, vintage bookseller who sold the greatest books in all of town. a woman who never ever seems to age, as some rumours have risen over time from the gossiping mouth of the older widows who knew you for decades yet still seemingly younger than them.

even with all these blood consumed in the dead of night, none of them could fulfill the solitude you've been having to embrace lately. the emptiness consumes you whole, just like all the blood of the innocent you have sucked out for your source of living.

when dusk arrived, you slowly walked your way back home where the walls are higher than any ceilings and the windows are dimmer than any reflections.

as always, the first thing you will always do is open the coffin of your slumbering husband and kiss his forehead, or anywhere at all, as a greeting to tell him that you have arrived home.

you sat beside his coffin, eyes gazing at touya's lips which were laid out in one straight line along with his eyes which were sealed shut.

oh, how you've missed those turquoise eyes that brought so much joy to your loneliness. those eyes which only looked your way like you are the only that exists in this world. the eyes that told the moon millions of stories about you.

your fingers moved to gently rest on the cold skin of touya, not before your knuckles caressed and brushed his cheeks ever so lightly. a partial piece of his bone that has been turned into a ring coiled around your ring finger, the cold piece glimmering under the moonlit night.

you might not let it roll out the tip of your tongue, but your soul screams for touya to awaken.

it has been so long since he fell into a deep slumber. of course you knew of this deep slumber, it's something that touya does every few centuries for decades in order to replenish his power.

in this case, he slumbers because he has given you quite the amount of his blood and the unexplained ability to still walk around the day even if your canine teeth have grown longer and sharper.

and it was a personal punishment for him for turning an innocent human girl into something that he is. touya wanted to carve a hole in his chest to offer her his heart just so she could live for an eternity with him in this hell. how selfish.

in the background solemnly and softly played the record of antonio vivaldi's four seasons’ summer. it's a piece you've been indulging in lately, besides the other three seasons.

“ya know? the moon begs me to know when you will open your eyes again. she tells me that she wants to hear more of your stories,” you spoke softly, your fingers never ceasing their movements to gently caress. “i don't think she's very fond of me…”

“i miss you, touya,” you leaned closer to his face where your hair fell over his face and your nose almost touched his own. “please just... wake up. i’m so lonely.”

your forehead pressed against touya's, nose now touching his as your lips caved in to press them against touya's soft and cold ones.

those same lips that used to mold against yours so perfectly. those lips that used to lick and drink your blood like there was no other. those same old cold lips and dying lips that has you addicted with one press against your skin. you never forget the part where it speaks of honey-sweet words that always twists and turns your inside.

in melancholia, it was quickly driven away when you felt fingers weaving themselves into the back of your head, pushing your head further into the kiss as you felt touya's lips moving against yours.

you let out a little gasp as he deepened the kiss before moments later then you pulled away to stare at him with widened eyes.

there it is.

his turquoise eyes that somehow knew how to bring you joy no matter the occasion. the corner of touya's lips slowly cracked into a smile before he slowly sat up from his coffin, tilting his head to the side.

“morning.”

you wasted no second to throw yourself onto him, embracing his awakened body as you once again pressed your lips onto his. your lips have been waiting for this moment, craving for a longing kiss.

touya chuckled before one of his arms slithered around your waist to pull you closer, his free hands moving to cup your cheek. his kisses burned with passion, as if they've been longing for you just as much as you've longed for him.

a few moments later both of you pulled away and he rested his forehead on yours, his pretty turquoise eyes that you missed so damn much staring right into yours.

“i heard you calling out to me, darling. there's so much melancholy in your voice that it broke me on the inside. hurts so much that i couldn't wait for my power to fully restore before i woke up to be graced by your truly wonderful lips.”

like a child, you wailed at the awakening of your slumbering vampire husband for the next few hours into the night and in his arms while he holds you close and tight, telling you promises that he'd never do anything of that sort again.

your little bone that wrapped around touya's ring finger occasionally grazed your cheeks to wipe your salty tears away as he chuckled at your distress.

tonight isn't so melancholic and lonely anymore.

TAGS ★ @saewako @hyoismbbg @rueclfer @sweetheartsaku @lunatiqez @sepptember @loveriotss @bbluefllame @noirflms @anqelically @haunted4kent

© SENEON 2024 ♱ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st, suicidal thoughts. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

TW: Suicidal thoughts

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Thank you all so much for the love and kind words for the last chapter! It was a heavy one, and seeing you all be excited and seeing your comments really made my day! I'm still feeling a little bit sick, but I really wanted to give you all the next chapter, so here it is! <3 A trigger warning for this chapter: Suicidal thoughts.

Chapter 53: Isolation

There was a sweeping cold in the Red Keep that evening. The room of the chambers grew cooler as the fireplace dwindled. It was a biting cold that made your toes and fingers ache, and the tip of your nose feel frosty.

Not that it bothered you.

You had not moved, nor tried to cover yourself after the events of that evening.

You laid on your side, gown askew, legs bared to the world as your fingers did not relent their grip on your soft, tender flesh. You could feel the pressure of your grip, but no pain. Even the throbbing ache between your legs had dulled. 

Your body could not find sleep even as you grew numb to the world around you. So instead, you kept your eyes on the side of the wall in front of you, looking at the paint and green decor.

The room was dark when he had left, the candles and fire slowly dwindling, leaving the room in the dark shadow of night. You watched the wall slowly brighten with the rising sun. Dark black turned to deep green, until soon you found that the room would not need the aid of a fire to light the space. 

Blinking you shifted, moving to sit yourself up, joints stiff from their locked position all evening. As you moved, an ache ripped up your body, a hollow throbbing between your legs. You moved yourself up, feeling the sharp bruising sting, sliding your legs across the cool sheets.

As you looked down at yourself you saw the evidence left behind from Aemond’s assault. Your inner thighs were stained with dried blood and his spend, and beneath the sheets the same proof that was upon your skin.

Slowly, you inched your way to the side of the bed, until you pulled yourself to stand, an unfamiliar hollowness in your core made your brows furrow. It felt so strange.

You felt strange.

Like it wasn’t you, it wasn’t your body aching.  

You moved across the chambers, in the same dress as the day before, shuffling towards the windowsill, and its inbuilt seat below it. You blinked as you saw the familiar presence of someone in your chambers. 

A welcomed presence.

Lucerys sat at one side of the window seat, looking out at the water, not having turned his head to look at you. He sat, dry and not drenched, as if waiting for you to join him. 

And so you did.

Was this how Helaena had felt?

When she was with Aegon?

Was she subjected to this cruelty, day in, day out, for years? Was this what the Gods had signed her fate to? To be brutalised and assaulted, riddled with pain?

Did she succumb to the numbness? The dark waves that would have swallowed her hole.

Was Aemond just as cruel to her?

Aemond.

Where was he?

His absence confused you, and as you pressed yourself to sit at the window, staring out at the ocean, sun glittering atop its surface, you let yourself look down to the cobblestones below.

In your periphery you could see Lucerys’ red and black robes as he tensed, following your line of sight. 

How did it feel for your aunt to throw herself from her window? 

Is this what she had felt then? 

Did she look down at the stones below and think, ‘What a greater fate than this?’

Did she regret it when she took the leap? 

Or did she finally feel at peace as she plummeted to her death below?

You wondered if it would feel like flying. To be free of the world and its pain. To feel entirely weightless as you made an important, and life altering, life extinguishing choice. 

Or would it feel the way you felt the day you fell.

No control.

Fear.

An anxious wait for the inevitable.

“No.” Came Lucerys soft tone, still not having looked at you, still keeping his gaze on the horizon, yet he seemed to know what you were thinking, even if it was not voiced out loud. 

Or perhaps it had been voiced it out loud?

You let yourself flick your eyes to look at him.

He was the same as you remembered. Small and sweet, with full cheeks that were rosy. His precious mop of brown hair curled, and messy atop his head. No sword was at his side. 

He looked solemn.

As you sat, you heard the entrance of the maids who would now be tending to you in your new chambers.

They were not your maids. They were not Saria and Aella. They were not two girls you had bonded with over years. They had not seen your ups, nor downs. They had not been an ear to your worries, and a soft hand when needed.

They were strangers to you.

Alien.

And they served Aemond.

And so you did not move your head from its gaze of the sea, nor did you answer their calls, nor turn to face them when one touched you with an unsure hand. If it had been Saria or Aella, they would have held you and let you grieve. They would have brought your favourite treat, and fetched a Maester. 

But instead, these maids gave up on their short lived attempts to rouse you from your spot to eat, and dress. And instead moved to the bed, no doubt witnessing the evidence of the reason for your state, and simply pushing through. Ignoring the blood and his spend, ripping the sheets off with practised precision to replace them with fresher ones. 

Was this practise due to dissolving the evidence of Aegon on the many servant girls in the Keep? Of his sins against his own wife, Helaena? 

Or perhaps the sins of Aemond upon her? 

Or Aemond upon the unknown women he surely must have taken to his chambers?

You wondered if Alys had been laid down in the same bed you had. You doubted it was by force, she would have willingly spread her legs, and let him part her folds with his fingers and-

A shiver rolled through your body at the thought.

When the maids in the chambers had finished their fussing, and had thoroughly tidied the space, and changed the sheets upon the bed they left, and you resumed your thoughts of the cobblestones below and if it were worth the risk. 

But what would your parents say? 

What would they do?

Daemon would burn the realm, no doubt, your mother beside him. Jacaerys would stop at nothing, not even if it meant his own life to avenge you. Your half sisters/cousins, Rhaena and Baela would turn the skies to ash.

And that was a risk that you could not take. 

“Dracarys.” The young boy whispered to you from your side.

Perhaps one day, when your mother was finally seated upon the Iron Throne, all Seven Realms hers for the taking, could you meet the Stranger in peace and go with him. Perhaps he would be kind to you, and seek you out himself.

Or perhaps you would have to force your meeting. 

“Stop.” Lucerys spoke.

Aemond did not return to your shared chambers until later that day, when the sun had rose to its peak, and begun to fall beyond the horizon, light upon the cobblestones shifting to a soft orange.

The sky was so beautiful here.

The doors of the chambers opened and shut with little force. No booming slam was heard nor a creeping opening. He was neither sneaking in, nor barging in. It was a casual and calm entrance.

You supposed it was his chambers, despite your presence.

You did not turn your head, but you knew it was him. 

Lucerys did not look to watch his murderer approach you, nor did he turn to look at you, instead, keeping his vision to the ocean. Your core clenched painfully and you curled into yourself further on the window, hugging your sides harshly as you waited for his next assault. 

But none would come.

Instead, he surprised you. 

Again.

Aemond walked across the chambers, and began slow and gentle steps towards you, his feet walking across the stone floors quietly. You could feel his gaze on you, but you would not to turn to meet it.

Your uncle stood nearby, watching you look out of the window, waiting patiently for you to turn to him, and meet his burning gaze, to acknowledge his presence, or greet him. Perhaps even sneer at him or hiss, curse him and call him a monster. And yet you had no strength to do any of that.

“Y/n.” 

You simply blinked and continued to stare out the window, head coming to rest against the glass, its cold pane pressing against your skin. You didn’t turn to meet his gaze, nor move to shift your body. You stayed still and kept your eyes on the cobblestones far below you, at the bottom of the Keep.

You felt the gaze of the young brown haired boy on you.

What if you pushed hard enough on the window, to make him watch you fall?

Aemond uttered your name again, his feet stepping towards you, and you could see the blurry outline of him in your periphery. You could feel tears begin to build in your eyes, stinging your vision, before they fell in fat rivulets down your cheeks.

You could not stop them.

You heard Aemond shift again, clothes rustling, but not moving forward. 

“Did you eat?”

You had not. 

And you would not. 

Food would not have sat in your stomach. It would have worked its way back up your throat, even if you had tried. Even if you forced yourself, your stomach would not be able to hold it.

But despite this, you had no hunger, and felt no urge to drink or eat.

“Zaldristos.” Your uncle said, so quietly, so softly, that it was almost like it wasn’t real.

Or maybe it wasn’t.

Luc sat still, watching you move your eyes to meet the horizon and the glittering ocean again. His presence was so welcomed, and you had missed seeing the boy. And so you concentrated on his form beside you, letting your gaze float to his face as you stared back at him.

His eyes were the same deep brown that you remembered. 

One time, when you were younger, you had been sitting in the gardens together, Lucerys in your lap, as you read to him the tales of Nyra. And when you had looked down at his sweet face, a stream of light had caught his eye, and you saw the wondrous, deep brown they held with golden flecks nestled throughout.

As you watched the vision of your brother, you let the tears fall freely. You knew that he was not there, but even so, you did not wish for him to leave. The ghost of him was all you had. And it made you not so alone in the Keep, you were very much alone in.

“Please don’t leave me.” You whispered to the boy, and he simply blinked at you.

Aemond behind you shifted, stepping forward, thinking that perhaps you had uttered to him. Perhaps you would finally speak to him, but once you saw the movement, you turned your head away again, looking back out at the ocean, refusing to gaze upon your uncle.

“You need to eat.” Aemond tried again.

After standing behind you for some time, Aemond finally left you to your silence, looking at the water with the company of your dead brother. 

You had sat at the window until the sun had set. Not moving to eat nor drink. Not moving to rise from your curled position, nor to look back at Aemond as he attempted to command you to join him in bed.

You did not move as the sun rose again, high into the sky, watching as the oceans surface created the most beautiful colour show. Something unwitnessed by you before. A deep black to dark blue, dark blue to lavender purple, lilac to a blush pink, pink to orange and yellow then finally to the same crisp blue that it usually was. 

The maids came and tried again in vain as Aemond had left for his day. They left food on the table for you, with wine and water. You could smell the meal, but did not move to it.

You were stuck. 

Cemented in place at the window beside your brother. 

The pain was still there, though distant like all things you felt or thought. You felt that you were a whisper inside of yourself, that you had shrunk and could not call out anymore. And so you stayed in the depths of the dark, and enjoyed the numbness that came with it.

But as the sun had begun to set once more, and you still sat where you were, the pain soon began to creep in again, and your surroundings became less muffled. 

A hand touched your shoulder, breaking you from your revery.

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[existentialfailure]

You are You

Pairing: Touya / Reader

Length: Oneshot, 3124 words. 

Description: The rain used to be soothing. He seeks shelter from it now, there aren't many places to go when your home is the streets.

Warnings: Suggestive themes, explicitly language, Dabi being Dabi. Notes: Pre-LOV, Touya isn't savvy with this villain thing yet, pretty (strikingly) AU-ish.

When he was a boy, he loved the rain. The smell as it rolled in on the wind, the muted light it would cast over the courtyard. It was one of the few times he’d begrudgingly be okay with his father dismissing him from training. It still stung, still irritated him, but the rain soothed the hurt just like it soothed the sting of blisters on his chubby fingers and fat palms.

He’d slip outside while his mother was otherwise preoccupied. Kick off his shoes, peel his socks away and toss them where he wouldn’t recall where to find them. He’d spend as much time as he could abscond away in the furthest part of the yard, huddled behind the manicured azalea bushes that could be found there. Bare toes digging into the mud he had revealed from the grass he pulled up with his fingers, toenails blackening. He couldn’t recall the reason he did any of it, just that at the time he wanted to, and getting filthy felt taboo and a bit rebellious in the moment.

If he was lucky, he’d be able to stay out in the rain long enough to watch his fingertips prune, his teeth chatter- his quirk not quite honed as a child to keep him warm in a cold downpour. His clothes would be waterlogged and heavy, blazing red hair sticking to his forehead and tickling his ears in a way that made him scratch and giggle. Eventually his mother would catch on eventually to the fact that her home was a little too quiet, a bit too serene, and that only meant the oldest of her brood was missing. 

He’d be back inside after a few disgruntled shouts of his name, head bowed and dripping all over the polished wood floors. Muddy feet, filthy hands, ruddy face, and a shuddering frame looking sheepish and reproachful (but quietly unapologetic)  under his mother’s flimsy attempt at being stern.

‘Touya. Touya! Do you want to catch pneumonia? Touya? Touya, are you even listening?’

Now the impending threat of rain made his bones, what was even left that felt like his, ache. The stench of wetness made his nose burn, and the grafts that were pulled tight across his muscles would suddenly begin to itch and sting. He could feel the pulse of a headache start behind his eyes, an irritable ache that made his temper start to simmer to the surface. He didn’t like getting stuck in the rain. He had no way to dry his clothes, and he had just stolen these boots three weeks ago. He really wasn’t in the mood to have them start smelling like rot, and he was pretty sure they weren’t even real leather. To top it off, he had lost his last jacket in a fight, so he was stuck in a flimsy grey shirt that he was sure was days away from disintegrating into thin air. Touya smirked sardonically, if there was one thing he was spectacular at: it was royally fucking himself.

Pressing his fingers into his eyes, and letting out a groan, he pulled himself up off the alley floor and leaned his shoulder against the mismatched brick wall. Arms crossed, he let his eyes wander to the mouth of the alley, watching the occasional pedestrian stroll by either oblivious or pointedly ignoring the haggard looking homeless guy posted up in the alleyway. He learned the first couple years on the streets that occasionally someone would take pity on a wayward youth and pass him a bit of money for convenience store food or water. Yet the older he got, the larger he got, and the more his fire burned his skin necrotic and it fell away like rot off a bone- it was less likely anyone dared to look his way. Now, he learned just how quickly grandma can speed walk past a fuckin’ vagrant she thinks is gonna rob, kill, and eat her wrinkly fuckin’ face off.

Flexing his shoulders back to try and relieve the growing pressure of ache, he moves into the crowd on the sidewalk. He damn near belts out a howl at the way a girl that he assumes must be nearly his age contains a yelp in her mouth at his sudden appearance beside her. He gives her his own version of a salacious wink, snorting at the way she returns it with a grimace, clearly revolted. He doesn’t bother to try and parse through what part of him pulls the quick rejection: way too many flaws to count, and honestly he just isn’t in the mood to hurt his own fuckin’ feelings right now.

He breezes past most of everyone, and there aren’t too many out. As the world around him dims with the approach of a storm and impending dusk, the streets begin to clear as most take the opportunity to seek shelter before the rain. A few continue on like him, shaking out umbrellas, already pulling them over their heads, chattering away on phones or absorbed in their own thoughts and destinations. Tucking his chin into his chest, Touya marches on, hands fitted in his pockets and shoulders pulled tight to his ears.

He hustles to the familiar brick building on the far side of town, ducking under a makeshift awning built out of shitty black tarp and plywood. The operation is upstart, run by a couple of quirkless morons with big hearts, no brains, and a concerning bit of money. The rain had already started before he made it, and by the time he reaches the door, he feels like a drowned rat and probably looks like a dead one you’d find snout down in a puddle. He stands in front of the chipped paint brown door for a moment, eyes wandering over the front of the building as he shivers. The matching brown paint is still peeling, bits hanging on by a thread. The building had previously been a boarding house or something of the sort. He wasn’t sure, he was barely paying attention when the weird fucks were explaining it the first time he met them, huddled up in a scratchy blanket with his face beat the fuck in at 17 and no where else to go.

He was more concerned about his broken nose and missing tooth than their stupid storytime.

What he does remember is that it is one of the only shelters in the area, and it was easier to loiter in this place than it was to find an unoccupied building and smash in a window to find a room to sleep in. The only problem was getting into the damn place, because it was constantly full, and he was habitually late to snag a spot.

Well shit, how was that his fault? He couldn’t spend all day standing around out here for a bed when he had to be out there thieving all over the damn place so he could fucking eat. When it comes down to it, he is usually going to choose food. And this place doesn’t offer breakfast in bed. Occasionally first aid from student volunteer nurses- all quirkless, all fucking slow, but better than nothing. And sometimes a bed. If he could will it into existence.

With a body wracking shiver, he raps his knuckles against the door, ratting the handle for good measure (and to be obnoxious). If he was lucky, being that it was a weekday, a rotation of student volunteers from the local college would be here, which meant one very good thing that might fall into his favor. The chance that his favorite rotation of volunteers was in. And his chances of a successful night out of the rain, and into warmth that wasn’t just using his quirk 24hrs straight was in reach. The deadbolt clicked, the handle twisting a couple of times as the mechanism had a habit of sticking.

Touya snickered. It always amused him to think if some quirked asshole really wanted to, they could just knock the damn door down, deadbolt and all. Stupid ass good Samaritans. He’d pay to be there if it happened.

The door creaked open, and his face split into a devious smile. Jackpot. He was always able to sweet talk you into letting him in, even if there wasn’t a bed. Fuck, he’d curl up and sleep on the rug inside the janitor closet- which you let him do too many times to count before- just to get out of this fuckin weather and get dry. You narrowed your eyes, lips twisting.

“You know what I’m going to say,” You huffed with an eye roll.

“Yes. That there is absolutely a spot in Hotel Homeless with my name on it.” It was a smarmy response, but you know you like it. He knows you like it. He thinks.

“No. And stop calling it that. It’s called ‘Hope Manor’.” Was the deadpanned response he got in return. He frowned quickly, leaning in and curling his fingers around the door to keep you from closing it on him. You gave an experimental jerk at it, huffing when it didn’t budge. There wasn’t a bit of fear or intent on your face to deny him just yet, simply exasperation at having to deal with this late into the day. Your eyes flicked over him, noting he clearly spent the last several blocks walking uncovered in the rain. You did feel a little bad for him.

“That’s a stupid name, and you know it.” Touya snarked before whining your name boyishly and pouting playfully, “C’mon darlin’, you don’t want to leave me out here in the cold do ya’? What if I die of pneumonia? Ain’t that against your lil’ humanitarian thing you’re doing?”

You didn’t deign him with a response, cheeks puffing as you glared defiantly at him. You both stared each other down, him trying to look pitiful and you trying to hold your ground. You weren’t going to let him do this again! After all this time, enough is enough. Touya needs to learn he can’t just manhandle, and manipulate people into getting his way.

But he also looks pretty pathetic out there soaked to the bone.

And you would feel terrible if he got sick. And you always felt bad because you were both so close in age, and living such painfully different lives.

Damn it. You seriously need to grow a spine.

“You keep taking advantage…” You grumbled, being the first to break eye contact and inching the door open slightly towards him. Touya grinned toothily, slipping through the crack you gave him to fit through and pulling the door shut behind him as you released it. You continued to mumble behind him as you redid the locks, Touya happily ignoring your displeasure. “Keep your voice down. I was serious, Touya. There aren’t any beds left. You can’t just roll in here late and expect there to be room just for you because you demand it.”

You squeeze past him in the narrow entryway of the makeshift shelter, ignoring how Touya makes an obnoxious show of scrunching up his face at the prevailing odor of old wood and mildew. He always wants to get in so bad, you’d think he’d get over the stench. The place is old.

Touya follows closely after you like a well trained puppy, quiet and obedient as you lead him down a side hall. He was sure the carpet at his booted feet once upon a time was a vibrant red, royal even, but after years of neglect and abuse from thousands of feet, it looked more an ominous bloody black. The green paint was chipping off the walls at each side of it, and the ceiling was beyond yellow, now a deep dark tan stain from years of tobacco smoke. You stopped him abruptly, yanking him out of his thoughts at the end of the hall in front of a wooden door that looks like it took one too many beatings from the buildings past residents.

With a key off a lanyard on your hip, you unlocked it, pulling Touya into the stairway and behind you so you could relock the door.

“Down the steps.”

Touya huffed, now a bit confused.

“Well, this is new. Where’s my closet?” He held onto the railing as he traveled behind you, soothing the itch of the grafts on his wrists by dragging them along the roughened wood. You don’t say anything for a minute, face curtained by your hair as you descend the steps a little faster as if by sheer movement alone you could avoid answering his inquiry for the moment. By the time you make it to the bottom of the staircase, and to the final hall, you’re shushing him again with a finger to your lips. He opens his mouth threateningly, as if to make a loud objection just for the hell of it, but closes it with a clack of his teeth and a grin. You glare in response before turning away.

This hallway is just the same as the last; ugly blood carpet, peeling paint, and please-drink-more-water piss yellow ceiling. Touya is about to remark on it when you stop at the first door on the left, opening it with another key on your lanyard and yanking him into the room like you were about to get caught red handed. Stumbling from the sudden pull, Touya catches himself on a post of what he now sees is a bed tucked into the corner of the small room.

“Shit, the fuck was that?”

You whirl on him, red faced and a little jittery.

“This is one of the rooms they let the volunteer students sleep in when we help at the building overnight.” You gesture to the bed, and the small desk where your pricey laptop sits. He probably shouldn’t be thinking about its price. Don’t steal from people who can continue to help you down the line, moron.

Besides, he would probably feel bad stealing from you.

He blinks between you and the bed, then back at the desk and to you again.

“The fuck?” He looks again.

“T’fuck you shack me up with you for?” Now he isn’t so sure this shit was a good idea. Is he fucking sweating? No, that’s just the rain still dripping off his hair onto his neck. Holy fuck, he’s never been with a chick full on before. What the fuck. And shit, he is not going to own that shit up to you, he’d never hear the end of it. He’d have to pretend he was good at it, that he knew he was good at it.. Holy shit wait why is his mind even going there and going there with you in there with- fuck.

Now it was your turn to panic, hands coming up in front of you to wave wildly, face red.

“Don’t say it like that,” you hiss back at him, “and don’t raise your voice! Someone will hear you! I just didn’t have anywhere else to put you! The closet has a leak in the roof, I can’t stow you away in there until it's fixed. It’s literally a health hazard right now.”

Touya stares at you a moment, wild eyed as he considers what you said before rolling into his next panicked set of questions. “Couldn’t’ve said somethin’?”

“I didn’t have a chance! …And I was kind of embarrassed about it. Also you would’ve made me nervous by being weird about it!”

“No shit! Because you’re going t’be weird about it. You basically invited a dude to your room!”

You stared at him for a moment, incredulous. You straighten your spine, throwing your hands on your hips.

“Am not, and did not. In fact,” You huff, breezing around him with purposeful strides to the little nightstand behind him. He watches you with a slight frown, brows furrowed curiously. He tilts his head to peek around you as you lean over to pull open the drawer to reach in, pulling out a pair of grey sweatpants and what looks like a loose black top.

“Here. They give us generic spare lounge clothes in case we need something to change into,” You shove them unceremoniously into his chest, eyes wide and determined. Touya scrambles to grab them, holding them away from his body to avoid the fabric soaking up the rainwater and ruining the new set of dry clothes. With a satisfied nod, you twist around to the duffle bag he failed to notice beside the desk, picking it up and slinging it over your shoulder.

“I am going to step out so you can get changed,” You continued, taking a deep breath to steal your nerves. You weren’t going to be weird about this. Absolutely not. He was the weirdo. He always had been since you met him with his right eye swollen shut, blood all over his forehead and filthy shirt, and he had the audacity to call you dumb looking through a broken nose and proceed to rag on you at every opportunity throughout the day. It was a Halloween outfit.. The prick. You could’ve shook the hand of whoever broke his big stupid nose.

“You can get changed here. Put the wet clothes on the floor in the corner… I’ll take them to the communal dryer we have down here for staff. Also I didn’t invite a dude to my room. I invited you to.. to a sleepover! Which is completely different because... well... because you’re you.” With that, you turn on your heel and march out. Once the door is shut behind you, you deflate and power walk to the community bathroom, face ablaze and heart pounding furiously.

No good deed goes unpunished, you guess.

With that, Touya is left standing stupid in the center of your room, a bundle of grey clothes held out in front of him and the low rumble of thunder sounding distantly above him. He blinks, trying to digest the last bit of your rushed commentary at him, face screwed up thoughtfully. Because Touya is… Touya? The fuck does that mean? He doesn't even know who the fuck Touya is. Touya is whatever the wind sweeps up that day to make it to the next fuckin' day. He stews in his mind over it, occupying himself by beginning to strip and tossing his clothes and boots unceremoniously into a corner. Nude, he slides on the sweatpants, finally glaring up at the door after a moment of wrestling with the string at his waist.

Lowkey, he kind of hopes you like that Touya is Touya. Even if he doesn't know who Touya is.

[pedgito]

our little secret ✧ ˚ · . eddie munson x fem!reader.

summary: tardy slips were becoming a regular occurrence and you couldn’t handle another day of boring detention, but eddie couldn’t resist the chance to worship you in every way possible. just be quick, no one had to know.

cw: 18+ content MDNI, oral (fem receiving), fem!reader, in public (sort of, it’s not obvious in the slightest), again v dirty, readers be warned.

word count: 1.7k. short but i wrote this in the span of a couple hours, pls forgive me.

request are always open!

alternate ao3 link

Eddie was the king of worship, that you knew for sure. He admired every point of your body, from your head to your toes, the curve of your breasts as they peeked out of your low cut tops, and how soft your legs felt wrapped around his hips when he was exploring your body—not that he didn’t already know it like the back of his hand. 

But sometimes, it proved to be a bit of an obstacle—a small one, but still. That tardy slips, the mandatory detentions, the stern talking to from none other than the principal of Hawkins High—they were starting to cause an issue. Eddie didn’t have much to worry about, no one expected any high marks or miracles from the freak of the senior class, but you—you had a reputation to uphold. Grades mattered, attendance was important, your friends would disintegrate at the very thought of you shaking up with Eddie Munson—not that you were, you totally weren’t—

“Any louder and someone’s gonna catch us, baby.” Eddie murmurs, mouthing deep, bruising kisses into the apex of your thigh. Higher, higher, you’d told him. The girls on the cheer squad were entirely too nosy and the last thing you needed was them pestering you about why you had so many ‘bruises’ in such an inconspicuous place. They could put two and two together—maybe, you weren’t too sure with some of them.

“Gotta hurry, Eddie.” You couldn’t stand the idea of being so fucked out that you could hear it in your voice, but here you were. “I can’t be late for my morning classes again.”

It was the third week, several consecutive days in a row, that you’d found yourself in the back of Eddie’s van in the corner of the school parking lot. Laid up, Eddie’s head nested perfectly between your legs, half of it disappearing under the cheer skirt you dawned on certain days, like today. Big game, super big game—you jump at the touch of Eddie’s tongue delving between your folds—what were you thinking about again?

“I’ll be quick. Promise.” That was the biggest lie you’d ever heard. Eddie liked taking his time with you and prided himself on it.

“God,” He breathes, the smoldering heat hitting your cunt in a way that has you clenching on nothing air, “haven’t touched yourself since we started this little arrangement, huh?” His voice is so fucking teasing, pompous—you can’t stand it.

“Don’t need to,” You admit, hand curling against the back of his head to push his face further against where you wanted him, “you do such a good job for me.”

He laughs at that, softly, licking teasingly at your clit. You were already soaked, Eddie just had that effect on you—which, to be fair, you’d never felt before. Sure, you’ve found other people that you’ve been attracted to but Eddie—he could simply exist and you’d fall privy to the idea of him. You were obsessed.

He’s feasting on you like he’s skipped morning breakfast and you were his first meal of the day—you definitely were, which reminded you that you needed to make sure he ate in the mornings, it wasn’t good to skip the most important meal of the day. His hands were gripping onto the inside of your thighs, rings leaving impressions that you would trace in the glorious aftermath of all of this. His fingers were turning white from the tightness of his grip, afraid that if he let go he’d lose you.

You gasped inwardly, flying up from where you had been laying on the floor of his van, one hand still wrapped in his mess of curls and the other planted firmly behind you. He’s suckling at your clit, alternating between using his tongue to prod inside you, before finally deciding to use his fingers. And fuck was that a feeling to experience. The slow drag of his tongue is a complete contrast of the way his fingers are curling inside of you, hitting all the right places.

“Eddie, please,” You gasp out, tightening the grasp you had on his head. He grunts at the feeling, quickening his pace and causing you to practically curl into yourself at the tension that’s building deep in the pit of your abdomen, “—your mouth feels so fucking good.”

“So fucking hard, baby.” He tells you, pulling back for air. “You have no idea how much I wanna fuck you right now.”

No time, you tell yourself. Keep it together.

“Fuck, maybe later—just, make me come, please.” You beg, moaning loud enough that if anyone was close enough, you’re sure they’d come knocking.

Was it a dying animal? A helpless person in need? No, it was just you—being eaten out by Eddie Munson in the back of his rundown van.

“Wouldn’t wanna make you late again, right?” Eddie teases, switching between sucking so gloriously on your clit and finding a way to still hold a coherent conversation with you. “Can’t have that.”

“No, we can’t.” You try to tell him firmly, but only manage to sound downright pathetic.

Eddie does seem to understand some urgency, knowing just how much trouble he’s gotten you into lately, so he’s relentless in the way he’s fingering your cunt, curling and scissors with just the right amount of pressure—he never forgets how loud you get, loves to pull the sounds right out of your chest.

You wanna scream, yell, but that would catch you up in a whirlwind of problems and Eddie realizes that too. He reaches for the black handkerchief stuffed in his back pocket, blindly stuffing it into your mouth, you assist him eagerly.

And thank god for it, the scream that leaves you the second he’s pulling you to a bright, powerful orgasm has you gripping the back of his head, watching as he dutifully licks away the sopping juices that had dripped down his chin, daring to dive back into your sensitive cunt to clean up the rest.

“Absolutely not.” You warn him, hand resting on his shoulder. Your chest was flushed a bright red, heaving with the deep breaths you were trying to take. “I’ve got class in ten minutes and I can’t handle another orgasm right now.”

You could, you really could.

“You’re right.” Eddie grunts, pushing himself up from where he’s settled in between your legs.

“Want me to help you out?” You offer sweetly, flashing your trademark smile his way. “I’ll be quick.”

“Yeah…about that,” Eddie begins, crotch finally coming into full view. Well, that was one way to cut your time down.

“Eddie!” You shout softly, amusement and disbelief crossing your features.

Eddie Munson came in his pants, untouched, worshiping you on the floor of his van. That was definitely something that happened.

“I swear I’m not like this.” He jokes, you believed him. “That was just—-a lot. You’re something else.”

Eddie doesn’t need to elaborate. You get it—there was no way you could explain him either, he was just too good to be true.

“I’ve got a change of clothes, at least.” He assures, pointing to a pile of suspicious looking laundry in the corner of the van. “It’s clean, I swear! Hey, don’t give me that look—“

You’re pulling him down in a bruising kiss, something you two didn’t do much of, but it wasn’t entirely foreign. Eddie’s lips were soft and plush, begging to be kissed. He yelps in response, but recovers quickly. He’s pushing back with gentle pressure, careful in how quickly he wants to ramp things up again, but then you’re pulling away.

“What was that for?” He asks softly, hand caressing the side of your face, the smallest hint of his fingertip tracing the curve behind your ear.

“The orgasm.” You say simply, reaching in for another quick peck. “And because I felt like it.”

He huffs gently, trying to hold in the small chuckle that wanted to escape. He’s staring at you, right at you—his eyes were a dark, dark abyss that you wanted to lose yourself in.

Eddie gives you a quick glance, admiring how disheveled you looked. You laugh softly, adjusting your skirt and pulling it down slightly. He pulls tenderly at the hair that had somehow managed to find its way under the strap of your top, pushing it behind your shoulder before reaching to brush a stray hair out of your face and behind your ear, lingering for far too long.

You didn’t know how much longer you could keep this up. The secret, the sneaking around, ignoring the fact that Eddie wasn’t just a random hookup anymore. The lump in your throat was an immediate indication to leave—only Eddie could manage to make you feel pure bliss and agony in the small span of a few minutes.

His thumb drags gingerly against the curve of your lip, you can’t help but reach for his wrist, sucking the digit into your mouth, the warm and wet feeling of your mouth had him cursing at you.

“Shit—such a good girl, yeah?” Your thighs clench at the tone in his voice—deep and yearning. You nod quietly, blush creeping up your cheeks as you reach forward to give him a quick peck on his cheek.

“Yeah and she needs to get to class. Right now.” You remind him, pulling away and peeking the door of his van open.

Coast looked clear, so you stepped out quickly, glancing back to see Eddie peeking out to shoot you a quick wink before disappearing back inside of his van.

“There you are!” Chrissy shouts, startling you so hard that you barely manage to hold back a scream. How the fuck was she so cheerful this early in the morning.

You steal a quick glance back toward Eddie’s van. No sight of him. The guilt of sneaking around with him is enough to eat you alive.

“Here I am!” You say back with too much forced cheerfulness, looping your arm around the arm that Chrissy had offered to you. The bell rings almost a half second after, triggering you both to hurry on to your morning class, leaving Eddie’s van far behind.

And when Eddie smirks at you from across the cafeteria at lunch, the butterflies in your stomach are going wild, causing you to look away, but even he can see the redness creeping up your neck, threatening to reveal just how much of an effect he had on you.

Maybe sneaking around wasn’t all that bad. You were his dirty little secret, no one had to know.

[sunriserose1023]

A Friendly Wager

So I decided to join in on this Perfect Hoeliday Treat Challenge, put on by the amazing @navybrat817, @stargazingfangirl18​, and @drabblewithfrannybarnes​. The prompts I received were: 

-Ransom Drysdale -Turning a holiday Grinch’s frown upside down -Friends with benefits -Quote: “Gonna give you the best gift of all, a belly full of me.”

And this is what became of it all. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season and here’s to 2022!

PAIRING: Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader WORD COUNT: 5634 WARNINGS: Fluff, smut, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smidges of angst, bad (and I mean BAD) puns, explicit sexual content including alluded to sexy times, fingering, squirting, facesitting, cockwarming, car sex, vaginal sex (always use protection, kids), questionable tastes in Christmas music and movies SUMMARY: When your friend with benefits announces he hates Christmas, you make it your mission to change his mind.

Oh, the weather outside is frightful—

Not really. The weather was pleasant, but cold. 

But the fire is so delightful—

Not cold enough for an actual fire, but the fireplace thing you’d found on Netflix added to the ambiance without making you feel like you were melting. 

Since we’ve no place to go, Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

Now that was something you could get behind. Let it snow, like the forecast was predicting for next week. It would be just perfect and get you even more in the holiday spirit. 

You finished fluffing the section of your artificial Christmas tree, humming along as your Christmas music playlist switched to another song. 

Sleigh bells ring, Are you listening?

You stopped and glanced towards the couch, where your phone was resting on the arm. You went up on your toes to see who had texted you, but the screen went dark. You huffed a breath as you went back to your flat feet, giving the branch you were working on one last fluff before you went to pick up your phone. 

Hey. 

You up?

The eye roll you gave nearly hurt, and you shook your head as you set your phone down and went back to the tree. Before you could even get back to humming along to the music, your phone chimed again. 

Come on, I know you’re up. I can see the light on. 

You narrowed your eyes, thumbs flying over the keyboard. 

You’re spying on me now? I’m not spying, I’m outside. 

“Damn it.”

Let me in. It’s cold as shit out here.

You wanted to text back “freeze,” but you didn’t mean it. And your Christmas cheer made you too happy to let anything bring you down, so you skipped to your front door and unlocked it. 

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him, tan coat open, colorful scarf hanging over his shoulders, cream-colored cable knit sweater that nearly made your panties disintegrate stretched over his wide chest. You pursed your lips, hanging onto the doorknob. 

“Ransom, how nice of you to drop by.” “Don’t play stupid with me, honey. Let me in.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping aside before he could push his way past you. He rubbed his hands together as you shut and locked the door, sliding his coat off his shoulders. He went still as he looked into the living room, taking a few steps with his coat still hanging halfway down his arms. 

“What the fuck is this?”

You snorted, stepping around him as you went back to the tree. 

“This is Christmas, Hugh. Surely you’ve heard of it.”

Ransom rolled his eyes, tossing his coat and scarf over the back of the chair where your Christmas wreath was resting. He shook his head as he propped his hands on his hips. 

“It looks like Christmas threw up in here.” “I had no idea of your aversion to Christmas, Scrooge.” “It’s not an aversion, it’s just … who really cares?”

Your eyes were wide when you looked at him, peeking around the tree. 

“Are you serious?”

Ransom shrugged, and your mouth dropped open as you shook your head, rounding the tree to stand before him. 

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year!” “That’s a crock of shit. It’s the worst time of year.”

Your jaw dropped, eyebrows narrowing. 

“How can you say that?” “Because I know people. They can say how much Christmas means to them and put on a show for a while, but by December 26th, they’re all back to being conniving or bitchy or mean. The same way they act every other day of the year. Why even bother?”

You blinked, shaking your head. 

“Can’t you feel the magic in the air? I mean, I get what you’re saying. People suck. But for a little while, they … suck less.” 

Ransom raised an eyebrow as he stared at you. Your lips curled into a smile as you propped a hand on your hip. 

“Want to make a bet, handsome Ransom?”

He tilted his head, letting you know he was listening. 

“I bet you that by Christmas Day, I can change your mind about the holiday season.” “You’ve got that much faith in yourself?” “Not myself. The magic of Christmas.”

Ransom rolled his eyes. 

“What do I get when I win?” “If you win … I don’t know. We can figure out the details later.” “I need to know details before I engage in a bet.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes this time.

“Just go with it, would you? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Ransom smiled, holding out a hand. 

“Alright. I’ll take your bet.”

You put your hand in his, the two of you shaking once. Ransom gave your hand a tug, pulling you closer, and you smiled as you stumbled, your hands coming to rest against his chest. 

“I need to finish the tree.” “I’ve got a better finish in mind.”

You rolled your eyes, closing them as Ransom leaned in closer, his hand slipping under your shirt as his lips touched yours. 

You turned from your spot on the floor to look at Ransom on the couch and he shook his head. 

“That’s just creepy.” “It is not!” “‘He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake? He knows if you’ve been bad or good?’ Jesus, he’s a stalker!” “He’s not a stalker, he’s Santa.”

Ransom shook his head, propping one leg on the arm of your couch. 

“‘You better watch out’ isn’t just a lyric. It’s good advice.”

You rolled your eyes. 

“So the consensus so far is Santa Claus Is Coming to Town is ‘creepy,’ Silent Night is ‘boring,’ and we’re not going to get back into the debate about I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” “No one puts presents ON the tree. It’s stupid.”

You held up a hand, smiling to yourself as Ransom grumbled under his breath. You glanced up as you scrolled through your playlist of Christmas songs. 

“I take it Santa wasn’t a regular at the Drysdale home?”

Ransom shook his head. 

“Linda was too busy. I spent Christmas with my grandparents for the first couple of years, and they did the whole Santa thing. My dad told me the truth about Santa after my grandma died.”

You lifted your eyes to him, shaking your head. 

“That’s so sad.”

Ransom lifted his shoulders, then nodded to you. You clicked on a song and smiled as the music began. After a minute, Ransom leaned forward. 

“Hang on, the wind speaks to a lamb, and then the lamb goes to talk to a shepherd boy? What schizo wrote that?”

You put your head in your hand. 

“Do You Hear What I Hear is a classic. Even Queen Whitney Houston—may she rest in peace—covered it!” “Even if Queen Whitney sang it, it’s still trippy.”

You glanced down at your playlist. You couldn’t decide whether to take a chance and play Mariah Carey, unsure if Ransom would ruin the song for you or actually like it. You could always try Michael Buble, glorified king of Christmas music, but you settled on an older song instead. 

Ransom started to laugh when he heard the opening lyrics. 

“I’ve heard this one. You can’t be serious. The rape-y vibes are too much.” “Rapey?! Are you kidding me?” “She’s trying to leave and he won’t let her! He drugs her.”

You paused the song, blinking as you looked at him. 

“When does he drug her?” “Play it again.”

You did, Ransom stopping you at the line he was talking about. You shook your head. 

“Okay, first of all, this song is super old. Like, older than roofies, okay? And she’s the one who says ‘maybe just a half a drink more.’” “Yeah, but then she says ‘what’s in this drink,’ so what’s that about?” “Maybe he poured it a little too strong.” “See? Rapey.”

You cocked an eyebrow as you turned from your spot on the floor, facing Ransom on the couch. 

“We’ve done that before.” “Done what?”

You leaned back on your hands, crossing your ankles. 

“I’ve tried to leave and you insisted on one more drink. Which then, of course, turns into shots.”

He smiled, resting back against the couch. 

“When has that ever happened?” “I can remember a few times.”

Ransom shook his head. 

“No, it’s … it’s a little hazy for me.” “Really?”

You sat up, shifting your body until you were kneeling before him. 

“You don’t remember that time when Meg brought her friends over?” “God, she gets on my last nerve.” “I know. But then they left and I was putting on my coat and you said ‘wait. Let’s have one more.’”

Ransom’s hands gave you the stability you needed to push yourself up, and he kept holding your hands as you straddled his lap. 

“I tried to tell you that I needed to go home. But you insisted. ‘Just do one shot with me.’” “And you did.”

You pulled your hands from his, pushing your fingers through his hair, watching his eyes drift shut. 

“I did. But then you remembered we needed limes and salt, so we had to do another one.” “And then you took the lime out of my mouth when we did the next one.”

His eyes opened, the blue burning as he stared at you, his voice going deeper when he spoke. 

“That’s when you got hot, so you took your shirt off.” “Which made the next one turn into a body shot.”

Ransom groaned when you raked your nails over his skull. His big hands were at your hips, squeezing and releasing. He blinked his eyes open, the blue almost burned away. 

“Did we finish that bottle of tequila?”

You grinned. 

“Oh, we both finished that night. A couple of times, if my spotty memory serves. But who cares about the tequila?”

Ransom nodded, moaning softly as you closed the space between the two of you and kissed him. Your lips danced down his neck and he gave a shaky exhale. 

“Maybe the song’s not so bad after all.” “Baby, it might be cold outside, but it’s warm in here.” “It’s fucking hot in here. Take your shirt off.”

You giggled as you did as he asked, moaning as his warm hands covered your bare back, pressing you closer. 

You propped yourself up from where you’d been laying against Ransom’s chest and met his eyes. You held out a hand and raised your eyebrows. 

“See? Christmas movie.”

He pursed his lips, then nodded in agreement. You laughed as you sat up against the couch. 

“Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker. I told you I was right!”

Ransom laughed, shaking his head as you stretched to pick up the DVDs on the coffee table before you. 

“So are we feeling comedy next or do you feel like crying?” “I feel like there needs to be something before the next movie.”

He bounced his eyebrows and you rolled your eyes. 

“We are supposed to be watching Christmas movies.” “And we have. You were the one who promised sexual favors in between.” “Yeah, but if I suck your dick right now, you’re going to fall asleep and miss the movie.”

Ransom looked offended for half a second before he chuckled. You bit the inside of your cheek, then spoke. 

“I’ll give you a handjob and then we’ll watch The Family Stone.” “Why not Christmas Vacation?” “Because I want you to bask in the glory that is Clark and the Griswolds and once you come, you’re going to doze off and miss it all, I just know it.”

Ransom sat up. 

“Blowjob, I return the favor, we both take a nap, then we watch Christmas Vacation.”

You held his gaze for a moment, then smiled. 

“You drive a hard bargain, Drysdale.” “I’d like to drive something else hard.” “Oh my god, you’re the worst!”

He laughed as he reached for you, and you let him pull you closer, your lips meeting as the end credits for Die Hard scrolled over the TV. 

“Hand me the pecans.”

Ransom did, watching as you poured the nuts into a measuring cup, then into the sticky mixture in the large mixing bowl in front of you. 

“And what are these again?” “Millionaires. Not like you, a different kind of millionaire.”

Ransom gave you a look that made you giggle as you stirred the pecans into the caramel. You nodded towards the wax paper you’d spread over your kitchen counter. 

“I’ll spoon these onto the paper, we’ll let them harden a bit, then dip them in chocolate. But in the meantime…”

Your oven beeped as the timer went off and you smiled back at Ransom. 

“Can you get the cookies out of the oven?” “Did you want me to come over for a reason, or is it just so you can use me to open shit and get shit out of the oven?” “I had a reason, Scrooge.”

Ransom pulled the pan of chocolate cookies out of the oven, setting it aside as he turned to watch you spoon the caramels onto the paper. 

“And what was that reason?” “Well for one, you can take your grandfather’s goodies to him when I’m done.”

Ransom rolled his eyes and you set the bowl in your sink. You washed your hands and turned to him, the Kiss the Cook on your apron making him want to smile, even if he tamped it down and frowned instead. He raised an eyebrow and you set the towel you’d dried your hands on aside. 

“Everything needs to set or harden, so we’ve got some time.” “That right?”

You nodded as you pulled the apron off, hanging it beside your refrigerator. Ransom’s eyebrows raised when you tugged your shirt up over your head, his gaze lingering on your chest when he realized you’d foregone a bra that day. You propped your hands on your hips, waiting for Ransom’s eyes to meet yours again. 

“You still want to be a Grinch or do you want to have a little fun?” “I’m all for the fun.” “Then take off your sweater.”

He did, the cable knit dropping to the floor without a second thought. You stepped closer to him, arms looping around his neck as his hands went to your hips. You moaned softly as Ransom’s hands moved under your ass, lifting you and holding you close as he walked into the den, laying you on the couch and tugging your leggings down. You helped as best you could, sitting up and unbuckling his belt, leaving it in his pants as you unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. 

Ransom’s head fell back with a groan as you gripped his erection, and you smiled as you stroked the hard, velvety heaviness. He shook his head, reaching for your hand and holding it as he shimmied down the couch, until his face was even with your pussy. 

It was your turn to groan when Ransom pulled your hips down, his tongue attacking your folds, making you wetter than you already were. One of your hands gripped a handful of his hair, whimpering his name as he took your clit between his lips. You closed your eyes as you focused on Ransom and what he was making you feel, letting the stress you’d been trying so hard not to focus on drift away. 

One of Ransom’s hands went to knead your ass cheek, a slap against your skin making you jolt forward on his tongue. He hit you again just to hear you moan, answering you in kind when you started moving your hips back and forth. 

“I’m close, Rans—oh, god. Right there.”

He held you still as his tongue continued lashing over your clit, and your grip on his hair tightened as you came. You opened your eyes as your chest heaved with every breath, wincing as you moved your stiff legs, laying back on the couch. Ransom sat up and dragged the back of his hand over his mouth, kissing your stomach before latching onto your breast, kneading the other in his warm hand. 

“God, that feels good.”

You groaned as Ransom sucked harder, pulling back and blowing on your nipple before moving to the other one. You nodded, hand moving to cup his cheek before nudging him up where you could kiss his lips. His hand slid into the cushion behind your head, and you broke the kiss when you heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper. 

“You hid a condom in my couch?” “Like a week ago, after the Christmas music debacle.”

You narrowed your eyes as Ransom rolled the condom on, and he gave a quiet chuckle. 

“Don’t try to act like you’re not proud of me for taking initiative.”

You rolled your eyes, moving your hands to his face and holding him as you kissed him. Ransom sighed into the kiss when you slid your hands into his hair, scratching your nails over his scalp. You opened your eyes when he pulled away from the kiss, head ducked just a bit to watch your body take him in. When he was fully seated, his eyes met yours, the two of you staring at each other as you adjusted to his girth. After a silent minute, you nodded, and Ransom gave you a nod before he slid back, thrusting gently forward, making you moan. 

There were times the “friends with benefits” agreement between the two of you blurred the lines. Sure, sometimes Ransom just needed to get off, like that one time when he stormed into your house, pushed you onto your knees and fucked your face until he came down your throat and you were hoarse for two days. Sometimes you just wanted release, like that time you pushed him onto his living room floor and rode him like your life depended on it while he just stared at you in awe. Sometimes you couldn’t stand to look at him, and others you loved when he put you on all fours and fucked you like a whore. 

And then sometimes, as frantic as it starts, the fucking turns into lovemaking. Like the time on his birthday when he wouldn’t let you talk, so you worshiped his body as much as he’d let you, before he filled you and held you until the sun came up. And that random Wednesday when your workday was absolute shit and he came over and just listened to you bitch and moan, then ate you out so good you ended up crying, but he didn’t say a word and just held you instead. 

Sometimes you can’t take your eyes off him as he gives you everything you need. You convince yourself it’s not stars you see in his eyes, that he isn’t really staring at you like you’re the only thing in his universe, like you might be the one to save him. You convince yourself that Ransom really is just your fuckbuddy, that the handsome black sheep of the Thrombey family couldn’t love you like you love him. 

No. 

Not that. 

Anything but that.

“Stay with me.”

Ransom’s deep voice pulls you out of your head and you nod, closing your eyes as he swivels his hips and hits that spot deep inside. His hand drifts down and his thumb starts rubbing your clit, but you reach down and grab his wrist, pulling his hand up as you shake your head. 

“Just you.”

Ransom groans as you take his thumb into your mouth, and he buries his head in your hair, lips sucking a mark into your shoulder as he doubles down and thrusts harder. 

“God, you’re so tight. Every time.”

You clench down just to hear his ragged moan, slide your hands over his back, dig your nails in when he hits your spot again. 

“Ransom.” “I got you.”

You keen as he pushes your leg up, giving him the chance to push in deeper, his gravelly moan mixing with yours as you tighten around him, so warm and wet as you come for the second time. Ransom jolts forward, groaning long and low as he fills the condom. 

Ransom gently set your leg down, almost panting, chest heaving as he started to sit back. 

“Wait.”

He met your eyes, your mouth moving, no sound leaving your lips. Ransom smiled softly, settling back over you, lips finding yours as he lazily shifted his hips. You hummed as you kissed him back until he slipped out of you, murmuring an apology against your lips. He pulled back and looked down at you, seeing you staring up at him, and Ransom dipped to kiss you one more time before he stood up and walked to the bathroom. You moved a hand to your forehead, closing your eyes and blowing out a breath before sitting up and going to the other bathroom.

“I thought we were—hang on. Okay, there. This is not what I had in mind when you said we were going to look at Christmas lights.” “If you—stop! Do not rip these. They’re my favorites.” “I’ll buy you new favorites.” “That’s not how it—oh, shit. Okay. Never mind.” “That’s what I thought.”

You giggled as you held yourself up, watching Ransom stretch his long body as best he could in the cramped backseat of his Beamer. Two of his fingers were inside you, the panties you swore were your favorites shoved to the side. He curled his fingers and you moaned, blinking your eyes open when Ransom spoke. 

“Unbutton your shirt. Let me see your tits.”

You did as he asked, unbuttoning your shirt while his fingers moved in and out of you. You left your shirt on your shoulders, pulling down the cami and bra you had on underneath. 

“Fuck, I love your tits.” “Fuck, you’re good at that.”

Ransom grinned at you as he leaned forward, taking a nipple in his mouth as he added a third finger. 

“Shit, Ransom.” “You can take it.” “You’re not fisting me in the backseat of your car.”

Your nipple fell from his mouth. 

“But I can somewhere else?”

You tried to roll your eyes, but he hit a spot that felt so good. You whimpered and he spoke again, voice gravelly. 

“You want to come like this or on my cock?”

You nodded, and Ransom chuckled. 

“Words, baby. Use your words.” “I can’t think when you keep doing that.” “Doing what? This?”

He pressed your clit hard with his thumb and you sobbed out a breath. 

“Ransom, please.”

You squealed when his thumb went into overtime, and before you knew it, you were coming hard on his hand. 

“Holy shit.”

You couldn’t open your eyes; your body was still twitching with aftershocks. Ransom carefully slid his fingers from you, glancing up at your quiet moan when he was free. Ransom shook his head, his voice tinted with awe. 

“You squirted all over me.” “God, I’m sorry.” “What? No! No, you don’t—that was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

A hot wave of embarrassment rolled through your body as you put your underwear back in place, making a face at the wetness there. Ransom was staring at his hand as you put your boobs back in your bra, pulling the shirt tighter around you. 

“Hey.”

You met his eyes and Ransom set a hand on your thigh. 

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. There’s not a lot of girls who can do that and it’s hot as fuck.” “I didn’t even know I could do that.” “I kinda want to make you do it again.”

Your eyes widened and Ransom cocked an eyebrow, hand slithering towards your pussy. You grabbed his wrist and shook your head. 

“I need to … to rest for a minute.”

Ransom chuckled softly, other hand snaking around your head to push you closer to him. His lips met yours in a surprisingly gentle kiss, and you moaned softly when his tongue pressed against yours. 

“Let’s go home.”

You blinked your eyes open as you watched Ransom stretch his long body out again, pulling his pants up and buttoning them. You shook your head, one hand moving to rest against his shoulder. He turned to you, blue eyes locked onto yours, eyebrows raising in question. 

“You … you didn’t …”

Ransom smiled as he leaned closer, kissing you again. 

“Trust me, watching you squirt was worth it. I’ll get mine later.” “Ransom.”

He kissed you again, making you shift on the backseat until you were laying down, knees up around his hips as Ransom’s comforting weight held you down. You had your hands under his sweater, touching warm skin, and he pulled your top down until your boobs were out again. 

“I don’t want to fuck you in the back of my car, but I will.” “Why not?” “More room in a bed.” “Yours or mine?” “Whichever’s closest.”

You giggled as you kissed him again, moaning into his mouth when he dragged his hips between yours, pressing your damp panties against your clit. He lifted his head, staring down at you. 

“Plus, I'm not going to be satisfied until I make you squirt again. Actually, not until you let me record it.” “In your dreams, Drysdale. I told you, no videos.”

Ransom huffed out a breath, and you leaned up to gently bite his earlobe. He groaned and shoved his hips against yours again, shaking his head as he pushed himself up. 

“I’m taking us home.” “But we’re supposed to be looking at Christmas lights.” “Yeah well, that was before you pulled me into the backseat and rocked my fucking world. You stay back here because I don’t trust you not to try to give me road head and that’s something I just can’t say no to.”

You laughed as he hurried to get off of you, adjusting himself as best he could before climbing in the driver’s seat. You rested back against the seat, staring out the window at the starry sky, trying not to let Ransom’s words get to you as they played on a loop in your head. 

Snow fell on Christmas Eve, and you spent the longest time sitting at your breakfast nook, staring out the window as your world was blanketed in white. You made yourself a pot of soup, kept Christmas music playing softly in the background, and settled in for your annual routine of watching Christmas movies and drinking hot chocolate with a candy cane in it. 

Of course, that’s when there was a banging on your door. 

You almost fumbled the hot cocoa, setting it on the coffee table instead and glaring at the door. You pulled your robe tighter around you, stomping to the door, where the banging was still taking place. You yanked the door open to find a furious Ransom on the other side. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He stormed past you and you shook your head. 

“What’s wrong with me? You’re the one banging on my door on Christmas Eve. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You slammed the door, turning to Ransom with your arms crossed over your chest. He flung his coat over the back of your chair, hands on his hips as he paced the small room. You watched him, waiting until he finally turned to face you. 

“I was at Harlan’s, suffering through another gathering of them, and all I could fucking think about was how much you’d enjoy it. Not being around them, but the decorations and the food and the music.”

Ransom shook his head, going back to pacing. 

“And I happened to catch the Grinch on cable last night and I fucking cried.” “With Jim Carrey?” “No, the animated one.”

You bit your lip to keep from smiling, but that was an epic fail. Ransom turned to look at you and shook his head. 

“Those stupid fucking Whos and the damn dog with the reindeer antler and that annoying as fuck song and—“ “The Grinch hated Christmas, the whole Christmas season. Now, please don’t ask why, no one quite knows the reason.”

Ransom stopped, turning towards you. You smiled softly, walking closer to him. 

“Hit a little close to home, maybe?”

He didn’t answer, closing his eyes when you lifted a hand to brush through the hair falling onto his forehead. You pressed your lips to his cheek in a gentle kiss, nosing his jaw. 

“You sympathized with the Grinch.” “He’s a made up character.” “So? You get where he’s coming from. He hated Christmas. You hated Christmas. He came to a realization that he didn’t actually hate Christmas. You don’t want to steal Christmas from The Whos, you want to celebrate with them.”

Ransom pushed you back a bit, glaring into your eyes. 

“I’m not actually the Grinch. You know that, right?” “Admit it, Ransom. You love Christmas.” “No, I don’t.” “You do. You do, or else an animated cartoon from the ‘60s wouldn’t have made you cry.” “I don’t.”

You shook your head, taking his face in your hands. 

“You’re a stubborn ass, Handsome Ransom, but you know I’m right.”

He knocked your hands away from his face, taking your face in his hands and kissing you deeply. You whimpered into his mouth as you moved closer, your hands on his hips as he continued assaulting your mouth. You blinked your eyes open in a daze when his lips were suddenly gone, looking down to find him untying your robe and pushing until it fluttered took the floor. 

“Ransom—“ “I want to fuck you under the tree.” “Because you love Christmas?” “No, because I didn’t get you anything and your present can be an orgasm.” “What?!”

Ransom laughed as he finished unbuttoning your pajama top. His hands went to your breasts and you moaned at the warmth of his touch. 

“Actually, I’m gonna give you the best present of all. A belly full of me.” “Oh, dear God. No. You’ve ruined it. Get off me.”

Ransom laughed as he raised his arms, letting you push his cable knit off his torso, dropping it to the floor. You shook your head, watching Ransom go to his knees and grab your robe, spreading it out under the tree. He took hold of your hands and tugged you down, laying you on your robe. You shook your head, lifting your hips to let him remove your pajama bottoms. 

“You have the worst lines. The cheesiest.”

He stilled as he was unbuckling his belt, when you reached up and grabbed his chin. 

“You’d think with a face as good as this one, you wouldn’t need the cheesy lines.” “Most of the time, all they care about is the face.”

His words were jumbled when your hand moved up and squeezed his cheeks together. You smiled, letting your hand fall. 

“Not me. I care about much more.”

You sucked in a breath, eyes widening at the words you hadn’t meant to say. You started to say something else, try to do damage control, but Ransom moved forward, lips finding yours, melting your heart as he murmured against your mouth. 

“I care about you, too.”

You lay back when Ransom prompts, stretching your legs and parting your thighs for Ransom, shivering when his breath hit the dampness between your thighs. You stared up, your vision obscured by branches and artificial pine needles, lights that twinkled in your dim living room. You hummed a breath, smiling until you laughed to yourself. 

“What’s so funny?” “Oh, nothing. Just that you and the Grinch, your hearts grew three sizes today.”

Ransom gave a low chuckle and you propped yourself onto your elbows, glaring down at him. 

“Say one thing about your cock and it’s going nowhere near me tonight.”

Ransom rolled his eyes, grumbling to himself as he settled between your legs. You rested back to the floor, staring up through your tree. 

“Merry Christmas to all, and to all—“

You gasped as Ransom’s tongue slid through your folds, as he took your clit between his lips and sucked. 

“A good night.”

[fueledbysano]

KINKTOBER DAY 21: “PRAISE KINK; Nanami”

summary: after showing Nanami what your mouth could do, he showers you with love in return.

✧ pairing: nanami x fem reader

✧ includes: NSFW, detailed smut, praise kink, daddy kink, aftercare

It was the way you sat on a bar stool behind the kitchen counter, your tongue dancing around the sphere of cherry as you savored its sweet taste, leaving you in a good mood as your eyes scanned the novel you were reading.

You were wearing your usual comfortable home clothes— particularly one of Nanami's sweaters with some cute panties underneath it and nothing else.

Your gorgeous lover sat in the living room, practically bare apart from a silky towel covering everything below his hips and showing that figure you adored.

You were so engrossed in your book that you didn't notice Nanami approaching from behind. You jumped slightly as his fingertips caressed your shoulders, drawing your focus away from what you were doing to turn around and face his lovely stare.

"Oh," You yelp with a giggle, setting your book down. "Sorry, just couldn't help myself." He said with a smirk on his pink lips, moving a piece of hair from your face, placing it behind your ear.

He then knelt down and pressed his plump pout against yours. The need for the kiss was palpable, and the spark between your actions was palpable. For a little instant, you disintegrated.

His hair was perfectly tousled and his lips were lush, and you could clearly see his complete state now. "What is it that has gotten into you today?" With a grin on your face and a gentle stroke of his cheek, you inquired.

As he took your hand and placed it next to his, over his towel, his eyes darkened. You let out a small gasp when you touched his firm member, which was visible even through his underwear.

"You, you don't even realize what that pretty mouth of yours does to me, even when it's not near me." He said with a low voice, licking his lips.

Your core began to heat up, and your heart began to beat quicker. " ‘M sorry, I didn't know." You said with an innocent grin and batted lashes, looking up at him.

"I promise I'll take care of it Sir." You offered again, and you could see the look in his eyes turn darker than before, he was fucked for you and your words made him stiffen even more, if it were possible.

You eased off the stool, your gaze fixed on him and your hand resting on his firm erection. You rose to your toes and kissed his lips once more, moving your hips into his, your core touching his member, causing him to groan.

Breaking apart, you placed your lips on his ear and rested your hands on his naked, strong shoulders. "Do you mind if I put my mouth around you?" In a needy tone, you inquired.

You could feel his breath catch in your throat, your words driving him insane in the finest manner conceivable. "What does my darling want?" He inquired, his luscious lips licking once more. "Please?" You ask, the dampness in your underpants becoming more visible. "All right, good girl, go on." He stated his case.

As you made your way in front of him, you got down on your knees, your fingertips skimming his body, burning with anticipation. You kissed down from the shaft to the tip by his mid thigh, bringing your lips over his clothed member.

You hear hs breathing was becoming more labored. You slipped your fingers under the band of his underwear and pulled them down slowly, allowing the cloth to brush him. His brutally hard dick sprung free when they came off, smacking his abdomen before lying in front of you.

You pulled his briefs down off of his legs, looking up at him again, a teasingly innocent expression on your face as you brought your tongue overhis pink tip.

He twitched at the movement, biting down on his now red bottom lip.

You then took the tip in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you slowly slid it into your mouth, taking as much of him as you could.

"Fuck." He moaned out, head freeling falling back as his hands found their way to your hair, throwing a makeshift ponytail and gripping it slightly. You moaned, dick still in your mouth and the taste of him now on your tongue instead of the cherry, both were delicious.

You grip his shaft with your hand, pumping what you couldn't reach with your mouth. "Fuck, doing so good princes, you take me so well." He said through breathless moans. His words made you even wetter, and even more eager.

You continue to swirl your tongue around him as you moved him in and out of your mouth, his groans making you wetter by the second. Looking up and seeing him so entranced by pleasure, lips ruby and eyes closed, his head thrown back, it made you throb even more.

You move him in and out of your mouth with your tongue swirling around him, his groans getting you wetter by the second. Looking up and seeing him so engrossed in pleasure, with ruby lips and closed eyes, his head thrown back, made your heart pound even more.

You brought him out, his tip at your lips as you softly licked and sucked at the sensitive area just behind the head. "I'm close, but, Iet me be inside of you when I finish." He said with a rasp voice, softly removing you.

It wasn't an issue because you were on the pill, and to be honest, you were completely drenched for him. You stood up, and he quickly lifted you onto the stool, his massive hands on the undersides of your thighs as he did so.

He marveled at the sight of your shimmering wetness as he pushed your pants down. "I apologize for keeping you waiting, princess." As he rubbed his thumb over your clit, he said. At this moment, you were nearly putty in his hands.

As his thumb stroked in circles, spreading wetness over the area, you let out a lewd moan and closed your eyes. He then drew you in closer, your legs on either side of him, before kissing you passionately.

You let out a gasp as you felt him glide into you. As he bottomed out and slid as deep as he could, he stretched you slightly, filling up every inch of you. You were already reeling from his bluntness; you weren't used to him being so direct, but you weren't complaining.

He started moving, and your dampness coated him as he did so, making it much more difficult for him to hold it in. You screamed as he moved quicker, dragging his hips out and then back in with decisive jerks.

"Fuck." You moaned, clutching each side of the chair as his hands, his fucking hands, grasped your thighs as he drove into you.

As he gazed down at what he was doing, sweat collected on his forehead, with bits of his silky hair clinging to his forehead and his mouth slightly agape.

If he's being honest, he thought you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and you were the only person who had ever made him this hard, this eager, and this hungry. Your body was a work of beauty, and he appreciated everything about it, including the faults you thought were flaws.

"Fuck, babe, don't stop." You moaned out, your toes curling as you felt the familiar pit of pleasure building in your stomach. "Gonna cum for me baby? Gonna show me who makes you feel this good?" He said with a smirk forming on his gorgeous face.

You bit your bottom lip when you couldn't think of anything else to say, so you just nodded. To get your high, all he had to do was bring his thumb down and massage circles on your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

You screamed, clinging to his already moving hips as a flood of pleasure washed over you. You throbbed around him as your legs began to shake. All it took for him to come undone was seeing you like this, feeling you around him.

"Holy shit." He moaned, leaning down and kissing your lips with passion as he came. His orgasm ripped through him, lower stomach hot with pleasure and his member twitching at the feeling of your walls still clenching around him.

Your eyes were closed as your mouths moved together and his hands caressed your cheeks, and you couldn't get enough of his lips. You both panted as you descended from your highs, still foggy from the ecstasy you had just experienced.

He lovingly pecked your lips once more before slipping out of you, his long, toned arms wrapping around you so he could lift you up and take you to the bathroom to clean you both off.

As he started a hot shower, he placed you on the edge of the bathtub. He then walked up to you and hugged you close to him as he assisted you into the hot water. "Thank you for that baby, daddy loves you so much." As he leaned down, softly kissing the heated skin of your shoulders, water ran over your bodies, he added with an honest tone in his voice.

Nanami motions for you to join him, and you do so, snuggling up to his chest before quickly sketching patterns on his chest. He kisses your head and wraps his arms around you in a protective embrace, and you melt into his embrace.

“Love you so much, babygirl.” He says once more, as if his words earlier weren't enough.

tag list: @snowyseungs @itsgoldnsage @call-me-pretty-and-nasty @poopymagicalpants @lovehollandy12 @mindlesschicca @shiggybby tehehe.bri @sassyjudgehumanparty @soveutism @ravenina14 @kishiuna @lovemusic-4-ever @atshena @xiaosshoulderspike @anajah @la-musaa @kangthetic @cult-of-nanami @belphegors-cow-pillow @alectodd @arean @yaegerr @ibby-miyoshi-nerd @wadeangela193 @madarascrustycumsock @dianados @ack3rlevi @crabbae @feitanett @zukolosthishonor @haitanihime @bekahtaylorgriggs @DaisyXxMist @poggers01 @sianakento @venusackerman @missroro @bunnywrites1414 @kazutora61817

[americxn]

“all my love”

tate langdon x gn!reader angst

“Every bone in my body aches for more time, more memories, for more you. But I can’t be here. I can’t take my future away from myself, even at the expense of our love; maybe happy endings just aren’t meant for us.”

wordcount: 1.5k warnings: does poorly written angst count as a warning?

taglist: @kitwalker02 @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna @xmaximoffic @divineruler @tatesweaterweather @evanmybeloved @vi0lentvi0lets @ikkleroniekins @ananad1 @shlutnutt @sanni333 @mossybank @tatesimper @sallyscigarettes @copy-of-a-cheeto @whiiiiplaaaaash @colinsbagel @nerdydoesthings @fictional-men-that-i-stan @spidergirlmcu​ @depressedvamp​ @slightlyvicked​ @kaiscumsl4t​ @peterssilverjacket​ @usuck​ @quickiesgirl​ (dm to be added or removed <3)

dividers by @anlian-aishang​

You couldn’t bring yourself to take a final glance around your room. Standing in the doorway with your back to the bed, your over packed bag an unbearable weight on your shoulder, you took a deep breath, expelling the image of you and Tate lounging in one another's arms on that bed or sat cross legged on the floor playing board games or your body tucked away into his chest as you sat entwined on the large windowsill. Your throat ached but you forced yourself to take a step forwards, reaching blindly for the handle of the door to pull it closed behind you.

The open hallway beyond was empty, the uncharacteristic silence settling over you, it’s weight curving your shoulders inwards. Tate hadn’t shown himself yet. For all you knew, he could be lingering in the corridor behind you or waiting by the front door to question where you were going and why you had spent last night and the early hours of this morning secretly packing. You couldn’t bear to see him, couldn’t bear to face his questions. 

Taking the stairs quickly, you kept your gaze trained on the ground as you walked, hot tears forming along your lower lash line and blurring your vision. Clearing your throat to rid the dim ache beginning to spread there, you reached for the front door, tugging it open and hurriedly exiting the house, your face crumpling as you forced yourself to leave without a second glance, taking the steps two at a time down to the red brick path that connected the front gates to the house’s entry way. The wrought iron gate was cold beneath your palm as you pulled it open, stepping past the threshold with a choked sob. 

The sound of the door slamming closed at your back made you pause and even without turning you knew whose footsteps thundered down the small set of steps leading up to the house, a wave of despair flooding through you. “Y/n?” He shouted, his eyes trained on your back as you slowly turned to face him, a set of fresh tears tracking down your cheeks. “Tate.” You said hopelessly, the word cracking as you searched your mind for anything you could say to him.

You had to turn your face when you beheld him running towards you, his face set in harsh lines of confusion and his tousled curls waving in the soft breeze.

“What are you doing?” He demanded, breathless as he beheld you stood beyond the gate. His lithe fingers closed around the bars as you watched his dark eyes flick to the bag slung over your shoulder. “What… where are you going?” Your tear filled eyes clenched shut at his helpless tone, his toes pushing against the invisible barrier that bound him to the grounds of the house. 

You moaned his name, a wrenching breath racking through you as you made a futile attempt to piece together a coherent explanation. “I’m sorry.” Was all you could manage. “I have to go.” your eyes flicked over his form, drinking in the sight of him one final time, storing the memory away and hating how the last time you would see your lover was with tears filling his reddening eyes and his forehead creased with a deep frown of confusion. “What?” He breathed, shaking the gate in frustration. “No. Y/n, you can’t leave me here.”

“I have to.” You groaned, wiping at your face with the back of your hand, only for fresh tears to roll down the planes of your face. “I can’t be here. I’m so sorry Tate.” Your breathing hitched, distorting your words as you met his gaze for the last time, hating the way his dark irises gleamed in the bright morning light. “I’m sorry.” You repeated, Tate’s mouth opening and closing wordlessly as he searched desperately for something to say that could convince you to stay with him. But he came up short and was forced to watch in growing horror as you turned your back to him, your shoulders shaking with the force of your poorly concealed tears as you stepped into the road, ignoring Tate’s cries of your name. 

Wrenching open the driver’s side door to your car, you slung your bag onto the passenger seat, finding the hot air filling the car difficult to swallow as you watched Tate shaking the gate furiously from your peripheral vision, willing it to open under growing desperation as his anguished shouts filled the empty street. His weeping followed you down the road as you wrenched the key in the ignition, blindly pulling away from the sidewalk, your face burning under the warmth of your tears. 

Tate watched as your car rounded the corner at the bottom of the street, disappearing from sight, the weight of his confused grief forcing him to his knees and his fingers loosening their grip on the gate as he knees met the concrete; he doubled over, trying to maintain at least a scrap of composure as you drove out a sight, leaving him alone in a house populated by the fragmented souls of those who once were, your memory now joining them.

He rose, unsure of how long he had been kneeling before the gate and walked blindly back into the house. He retraced your steps, his eyes trained on the ground before him as he walked, a pit of unfeeling oblivion yawning open within him. Pushing open the door to your bedroom, he lowered himself onto the bed, gathering your pillow beneath his head and stuffing his face into it, the lingering scent of you flooding over him. His throat ached but he found that there were no more tears to be shed as a conflicting sense of anger surged through him, his back teeth grinding together as the image of you turning away from him replayed over and over again, stark in the forefront of his mind. The smell of you on the sheets turned hateful, festering with your decision to leave him alone here, abandoning him after several months of uninterrupted love to make a new life for yourself. Away from him.

He jerked upright, his lips pressing into a tight line as he scanned the room, his stomach turning as he looked around, his gaze chased by memories quickly disintegrating into cold visions devoid of meaning. Standing from the bed, his eyes fell onto the vanity, it’s surface left cluttered with several of your belongings, pumping false life into the silence of the room. There was a piece of creaseless paper that had been purposefully laid out on the centre of the vanity’s surface and his heart stuttered as he approached it, his name scrawled in a familiar hand on the front.

He reached for it, taking the note you had left him between his fingers, his breath catching as he unfolded it, beholding the lines of ink that formed rushed words. His lip curled. You hadn’t even bothered to take your time with the letter, but he took it to the bed regardless, sitting down and smoothing it out on his lap, beginning to read.

The main substance of your letter consisted of halfhearted excuses and apologies; he lost count of the amount of “I’m so sorry”s you had embedded within the handwritten note, a cold sense of resentment growing with each repetition. You hadn’t even bothered to give him a legitimate reason for your departure, telling him in ink that “this house drains me Tate, I can't stay here anymore. There’s nothing left for me within these walls; my only regret is that I can’t take you with me.” His previous anguish curdled within his gut at these words, at your dismissal of your supposedly undying love for him. 

It was only when he reached the final written line that that wrenching sense of anguish returned with nauseating force and a single tear fell as he read over it again and again, his throat closing and the ink distorting, blurring into the paper.

Every bone in my body aches for more time, more memories, for more you. But I can’t be here. I can’t take my future away from myself, even at the expense of our love; maybe happy endings just aren’t meant for us.

All my love, Y/n. 

His lip quivered as his eyes scanned over the ink time and time again, your voice speaking the words to him echoing throughout his mind, the house beyond the silence roaring in his head utterly still. The words tore through him, registering with that fragmented, hidden part of him that could still comprehend pain that exceeded the physical. He took the paper between his fingers, tearing your final words from the rest of the letter that instilled such deep resentment within him and discarded it on the floor, smoothing his fingers over the small slice of paper remaining and memorising the hurriedly scrawled words there, the crests and falls of the letters, and tucking your voice away into a back corner of his brain.

please comment & reblog if you enjoyed and feel comfortable doing so. it really helps when you do; any form of feedback is so appreciated!

[nectarous]

━━ shigaraki x f!reader.

[tags: wound play, gore, blood, quirk use.]

[wc: 1.3K]

⇦ love thy neighbor masterlist.

tomura has taken to watching you through the cracked peephole, unconsciously scratching at the raised scratches in the pine door and the thin skin of his neck. there’s a raging hush, an annoying itch that’s simultaneously caused and soothed by you.

you only live here because of how cheap it is. this apartment is worse than a shithole, and if he wasn’t a criminal he wouldn’t step a hundred feet of the property. stains and scratches, no actual maintenance, and a stench that pervades the entire place. but it’s cheap, the landlord doesn’t ask questions, and it’s the only place a lowly student like you could afford to live by themselves. you definitely work as a nurse or a medical student of some sort, shuffling inside after midnight in stained scrubs and a hunch in your back, looking like you’re one push away from collapsing onto the scuffed up floor. 

your quirk’s interesting to him; the complete opposite of his. while he destroys, yours is a remedy.  he's watched the neighbors come knocking at your door for months, asking you to heal anything from scrapes to burns. he watches in aroused revulsion at the flaxen glow of your fingers as you brush them over patients. 

he needs you to pay attention to him. he wants you to look at him the same way you look at the kids shyly asking you to remedy bruises from tripping at the playground, or the tired smile you give to the hooker next door when you help lessen the ache of her cunt after a busy night. he wants to feel the glow of your fingers, fixing him up.

plain, but annoyingly eye-catching. tomura found the swollen, blackened circles under your eyes pretty; the way you didn’t care about blood stuck underneath your nails and your naivety at helping just about anyone.

if he doesn’t approach you right now he’s probably going to scrape through his skin.

there had to have been red flags, silent warnings in the way he silently pushed his way past you inside your lowlight studio, the way his eyes danced over the mail thrown on the coffee table while he stuck out his forearm, a thin red line oozing from wrist to elbow. silent request for help.

the leathery, worn-out hand that normally protectively cupped his face is odd and gruesome, like a leash holding back. somehow, the decaying smell’s worse than the hallway. he plops down onto your ratty couch without permission, toeing off his red sneakers onto the ground before he’s sitting cross-legged. almost like a child. 

neither of you talks. he’s staring at the deep-set lines of stress under your eyes, you’re focusing on drawing enough vitality left in you to heal the superficial cut. the delicate touch you have on his forearm prickles into his bones, burns just a bit. he watches the way your fingers brush away the congealing blood from his arm like you’re stitching the skin back together.

your quirk feels good.

it only takes you a couple of minutes to heal him to the best of your ability, but it only took him a few seconds to decide he wants to feel more.

you try to usher him out, the annoyance that he’s forced his way into your apartment settling in. but he’s grabbing you, pulling you down so your knees clumsily knock into the side of his thigh, and he’s looking at you with such excitement, a childish elation stained with something sinister that makes you want to inch away.

something is telling you that you wouldn’t like the outcome if you tried that, though. 

“can you do anything bigger than cuts?”

he’s fidgeting, digging into the pocket of his jacket before pulling out a folding hunter. a rusty, stained pocket knife with drying flecks of pulpy blood, a chipped handle, and no obvious maintenance, that’s being forced into your hand, and before you can even shout out in panic he’s tucking his shirt up under his chin, grabbing your hands around the handle.

he’s making you stab him.

the dread looks even prettier on you, makes a burn in him light up, especially paired with how you’re whimpering in confused fright. 

the trembling of your hands makes the knife cut deeper, wider, until the bolster presses flush against his stomach. until his blood spilling cataracts over the scabbed-over lesions in his torso and the webs of your skin and it stains the air in a coppery invasion.

he’s breathing heavy, almost like he’s turned on by a six-inch blade buried in the sickly flesh—holds you like this for a while, the incomplete grip on you trapping you close to him.

you don’t want to be here anymore. you can feel yourself floating away, you’ve never felt this much blood, you’ve never had someone who wanted to be hurt, it's scary. the ringing of your ears, the vacant look in your eyes. only the shell of you is present. 

it’s okay. he’s almost giggling, lips cracking and splitting apart as they pull back into a juvenile grin, blood soaking down his chin and down his stomach. it's time to heal him now.

the knife isn’t in him anymore. your shaking hands are dropped unceremoniously into his lap while he tosses it on the ground and tries to wipe the blood onto the weaved gray of your couch. if you were in the right state of mind, you probably would make a run for it, but you’re frozen. there’s no fight or flight in you. 

he’s shoving your hand back underneath his sticky shirt. he's not fully grabbing onto you, you notice vaguely, a deliberate pinky resting inches above your skin. the oddly delicate way he’s holding you would have made you laugh under any other circumstance.

digits bump into the sides of the fleshy gaping hole before fingertips sink into the wound, the squelching of bubbling blood louder than your heavy breath of fear, his hisses of rapturous agony sanguinating over you in redhot waves of disgusted curiosity. the sight’s gruesome, bright crazed eyes rolling into the back of his head, neck straining with every grunt, clawing at your skin and the ruined couch cushion.

he’s hemorrhaging out, but he’s obviously enjoying it, and it’s *beautiful* as much as you don’t want to admit.

your quirk starts up uncontrollably, reacts to his pain, you can see the faint yellow glow from your fingertips even buried into the bloody lesion before it starts to pull energy from you. the ripped muscle fuses together around your knuckle deep fingers; you can feel each fiber being melded together again.

healing around your fingers hurts more than it did being stabbed, the foreign digits slowly being pushed out of the injury, the treatment stinging like salt and acid.

you’re horrified to see the erection straining against his pants, eyes tracking the sliver of skin peeking through his clothes ruddy red. his eyes are rolling back in such serenity, it’s blanking your head out, makes you throb hot. 

“hey, does your quirk work on you?” it’s not a question, it’s more of an assertion, and before you can formulate an answer in your head, he drops the final finger around your wrist. 

bile and screams crawl up your throat as the maudlin scent of decay clog up your nose. it stings at your nerves almost as much as his quirk breaks you down, the scent of death and wreckage burning your skin.

you can’t see your fingers dissolving, mixing with the sticky blood underneath his shirt but the pain is still just as sharp; you can feel the bones disintegrating and tissue being ripped apart, the putrefying agony crawling up up up, eating away at skin and flesh. 

the whole building echoes with the wails of sorrowed, agonized fear.  

good. he wants you to sing.

[levicanpunchme]

Hi i found your profile today and I read all of it I am SO IN LOVE WITH YOUR WRITING!!💕Hope u are doing well and getting enough rest!Can i please request Levixfem!reader where they watch scary movie and reader is scared during and after the horror movie maybe u can do hc with levi or one shot!If u like the idea and u are ok to do it can u put much fluff?💕🥺

Thank you for suggesting! Hope you enjoy ;)

——————————————————————

Levi X Y/N

Genre: Romance/Fluff

Warning: Contains a tiny make-out description

Movie Night Gone Right

The air seemed to be drowning in thick tension, terror bustling in your veins as you held onto the edge of your blanket. You scoffed to yourself: modern technology had really evolved so much: the large television screen amplified every emotion especially whilst watching horror movies. It felt like the heinous predators would jump out of the screen any moment, making you piss yourself.

The darkness in the room and eerie music from the television made it impossible for your mind to gravitate elsewhere. Your body was taut as you held your breath while the stupid main characters died one after another in the haunted villa.

You looked to your far right at your boyfriend, who seemed quite unaffected by the countless jump scares. Even whilst watching a terrifying movie, you didn’t see him bat an eye.

He was either too brave or-borderline sociopathic. You hoped for the former.

“Why’re you always choosing horror movies on our date nights, Levi?” You bitterly muttered, your annoyance visible in your tone. Every weekend, you both watched a new movie and he chose horror every damn time.

Your boyfriend looked away from the screen, his wolf-like eyes reading yours. His dark black hair attractively fell like curtains on his forehead, disheveled and messy.

“Because they’re fun,” he monotonously replied.

His response made you speechless. “Fun? What part of large scale man-slaughter and cannibalism, fun?” You cried, disturbed at his reasoning. Horror movies just gave you vivid nightmares and trauma. You usually spent weekend nights with Levi just because you were too scared to head back to your dorm.

Levi’s lips curled into an unapologetic smirk as he glanced back to the television screen. You glared at him narrowly and then resumed watching the movie. A few minutes in, another terrifying scream erupted from the television and your body grew cold, your blanket now scrunched within your clenched fists.

“You’re shaking,” Levi’s soft voice pulled you out of the gory massacres of the movie. He swiftly scooted closer to you as his arm found its way around the small of your back. He wrapped you close to him, your face resting against his chest.

Your chest ached with joy as you heard his heartbeat, trashing against your frame, sending vibrations through your body. His familiar soapy scent washed over you and ignited a deep fire within the pit of your stomach. Your scent mixing with his made your toes curl in pleasure. You liked stealing some of his sweatshirts to take them back to your dorm just to smell him on you. The warmth of his breath cascading down your forehead sent tingles down your spine, making your heart ache with jitters. It was the feeling of being beside him that gave you pleasure.

The movie watching experience was ten times better with Levi holding your body.

Levi’s arm around your frame never loosened. Your warmth embracing him gave him the unfamiliar feeling of a home. His head was filled with you alone, so much so that he didn’t even know who the hell the main characters were in the movie; a week of pent up frustration from not seeing you starting to quench as your warmth diffused into him, making him feel like he were a part of you.

He started dating you a few months ago and it was crazy how damn clingy he had gotten in just a matter of months. At first, he never intended on letting a woman into his territory but you defeated the strong walls that were guarding his heart. When he tasted the sweetness of your lips, he forgot every promise he had made to himself and felt his walls shatter into nothingness.

Levi wanted to snatch you away from the shackles of your university which constantly demanded your attention, keeping you busy with assignments and exams; he wished to burn the whole building down along with your dorm so you could live with him, giving him the epiphany of waking up beside you. He hated anything which took you away from him. Selfish, yes but he couldn’t help it.

He dug his nose into your silky hair, acting subtle so you wouldn’t catch onto his motives. He wanted to run his fingers down the long strands all day, but he couldn’t. No matter how weak you had him, he didn’t want that side to be seen by you.

If he scared you away with his carelessness, he’d throw himself off a rooftop.

He surveyed you, and rechecked for any signs of awareness but seeing the intense emotions in your eyes, he realised you were sucked up into the haunted world of the movie.

He silently smiled to himself and inhaled your scent. Your fragrance was so therapeutic, a fresh breeze of comfort to his exhausted body. His insides squeezed in joy. You were like a heavenly addiction, fulfilling his needs, comforting his emotions.

“Levi, that woman was the imposter all along!” Automatically, his eyes regained its indifference, the smile of his lips disintegrating as he peeled his eyes away from you to the screen.

You looked up at him while snuggling in his chest. Levi pretended to be immersed within the movie and then looked down at you; he almost stopped breathing seeing your lustrous, wide eyes looking up at him like he were the only one on this planet. His breathing became shallow as he quickly nodded, and looked away from you.

“Levi...” you noticed his heaving chest.

You stared at him doubtfully and then it dawned upon you. His eyes were cold but his body said otherwise. He was so warm and his heart was beating so heavily, your stomach flooded with a mass of butterflies.

“Levi, who’s the imposter?” Your heart was skipping a beat as you tried confirming your doubts.

He visibly froze, your question catching him off guard. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed his nervousness like a deer caught in headlights.

“Why're you asking me that? Aren’t you watching?” He counterattacked, hoping this would divert your attention.

You stared at him for a good minute and then looked at the television screen. “Yeah but I was just wondering if you ever doubted that white haired lady. She looked so innocent, asking for help and stuff.” You watched his reaction, waiting for his response.

“Yeah, didn’t expect that.”

Chills travelled down your spine as you realised what had been happening these past few weeks: why he always suggested on watching horror movies; why he kept on asking you when will your semester end; why he didn’t like going out to the shopping mall for dates. Everything started making sense.

“Levi, there is no white haired lady asking for help in this movie,” your breathy voice made him flinch and tense up. You had never seen Levi outrightly display his emotions but right now, you could see the little rims of his ears going darker red, a pool of redness pumping through his cheeks as his bottom lip trembled.

Processing, you grabbed the remote from his lap and turned the television off. Your heart was thudding against your ribs as you observed Levi’s clenched fist.

“Why’re you making me watch horror movies when you don’t like them yourself?” Your voice was so soft and airy, comforting him.

You were currently having the time of your life, watching your rigid, formal boyfriend emotionally overwhelmed and embarrassed.

“Answer me Levi,” you dared him.

He gripped his nape and sighed, his nose crinkled with reluctance. Very softly, his words held you astounded.

“So you can get scared and hide into my arms.” —you almost gasped, your body shrivelling as a feeling of mystical happiness engulfed your chest. Your heart palpitated as you stared at the man who owned your heart, feeling the corner of your eyes burn.

“Why didn’t you just—say so?” You whispered.

He looked up at you, his eyes hinting of annoyance. “Because,” he muttered, his words caught in his mouth. You waited patiently. You would wait forever for him, only Levi Ackerman.

“I don’t want to scare you off,” his white skin looked so flushed. Seeing him, your body instantly warmed up too.

“Levi,” his name fell from your mouth like butter. Then earnestly, you climbed on his lap, your leg on either sides of him, facing him. The bold response made you fluster, your cheeks flaring up as you stared into the grey mists of his eyes.

His reaction was instant. His body became taut under your heat as he gazed into your eyes with a suffocating intensity. He instinctively pulled you closer, pulling you into him. Closer, closer until two bodies mushed into one, not an inch of space left in between.

“Levi, I want to dwell you in so much love, so much affection that you might get tired of me and throw me away,” you started with confessing.

Both of you were new to a relationship; both had fears and doubts hurdling your paths. How much volume of love do we express? How much of love do we need to hold back? Is there an exact percentage? Will holding his hand make him uninterested? Will pulling you into his arms seem clingy? The questions were numerous; answers, numerous.

Levi’s chest was heaving in a way you never expected. His eyes were darker than usual, thunderously grey and passionate with a whirlwind of emotions erupting loose; his body was hotter and eyelids heavy as he stared at you with an intensity he never let you see before.

“I get excited when you call me to pick me up from uni-when you text me to remind me of our date nights, and when you let me see through your exterior, when you let me explore every side to you.”

It was taking everything in you to not run away and go into hiding. Your words were exposing the sides you kept to yourself but it was time to let go. It was time to let him know exactly who you belong to.

“Levi Ackerman, if it’s you, I’ll give up everything to be by your side.”

Your words were cut short as his hand held the back of your head and like a desperate wolf, he pulled your lips into his. Every fibre of your being sprung to life. It felt like all the happiness of the world was thrown at you so suddenly, you couldn’t contain your emotions. His moist lips feasted on your mouth and impatiently invaded you with his tongue. Your audible panting was almost embarrassing but you could hear him struggle to breath as well. While he rendered you breathless, his mouth drank from within you like a thirsty stray dog. His arms around you had you locked, unable to escape, nor did you want to.

As you panted to inhale some air, his lips peeled off your mouth, up to your eyelid; he kissed one and then the other. He was breathing so heavily with his nose, your heart faltered at the sounds. He ran his fingers down your silky hair strands and dropped tantalising kisses down your cheek, to your chin and your nose. “I-want-to-steal-you-away-from-the-world,” he confessed, in between mind numbing kisses. He then buried his nose inside the crevice of your neck, inhaling you shamelessly. “If I could, I would-absorb-you-within me,” the hurling emotions he had kept inside were pouring out like unforeseen rain.

He kissed your neckline, tasting and inhaling every inch of you. “I can’t get tired of you, y/n,” his soft words tugged at your heart, making your eyes well up. You were so overwhelmed by his love, and your love for him that your vision was becoming hazy.

“Levi, promise to share your true feelings with me?” You asked, your hand finding its way into his undercut, you pulled at his baby hairs, making his eyes screw shut in pleasure, a comforting sigh left his mouth.

He nodded, spellbound by your touch.

You edged your face closer, kissing the high bridge of his nose and each one of his eyebrows.

“So no more, horror movies?” You muttered resentfully against his lips. His eyes opened again and a soft smile illuminated his mouth as he kissed your plump lips again, not getting enough.

“No more horror movies,” he promised.

You giggled lovingly and kissed the corner of his warm mouth affectionately.

“Move in with me.”

You almost fell back, his words pushing you over the edge. You almost thought you misheard him but the glint of honesty in his eyes proved otherwise. He was dead serious.

“Uh—are you sure? I can be very annoying and lazy...” You didn’t think this was a good idea.

He cut you off, annoyance present in his narrow eyes. “I don’t care,” he rasped.

“I can also be quite messy and you don’t like mess-” You knew this excuse might make him reconsider.

His conviction remained unabated. “I’ll help you clean,” he quickly responded.

You held back your giggle. A day ago, if someone had told you that Levi Ackerman would be begging you with his narrow intimidating eyes to move in with him, you would’ve slapped them in the face for lying.

What changes could a day make...

“What if I don’t want to clean,” you pouted, deciding to tease him.

“Fine, I’ll clean for you,” he responded without hesitation and waited eagerly.

You broke into a melodious giggle which made him roll his eyes at you.

“Okay, Mr. Ackerman. I agree,” you casually responded and kissed his jawline.

Levi exuberantly stood up still carrying you in his arms as a huge grin elevated his facial features. “Let’s get your things.” He put you down on your feet and hurried to the table to grab his keys.

“Wait hold on... right now?” You stared at the clock. It was past midnight and your dormitory was probably closed.

Levi nodded eagerly. “Right now. We’ll request them to let us in.” Before you could object, he was already putting on his shoes and grabbing yours so you could gear up.

You stared at your boyfriend: he looked like an eager kid preparing to go to Disneyland after his parents promised him so. You wondered since how long had Levi put his inner childishness and love away, afraid of the consequences. And then Levi pulled you to the sofa, tying your shoes before you could change your mind and dragged you with him all the way to your dormitory in the later hours of the night. After fighting the guards and begging your dormitory manager, he successively managed to get you to pack up your belongings and come live with him starting that very auspicious movie night.

[yanderenightmare]

YANDERE ! SHIGARAKI TOMURA x FEM ! READER

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, dubcon/noncon, abuse, anxiety, drugging, guilt, kidnapping, abduction, 

FATE

It was fate. That’s what he’d said. It was a rather brief encounter. She woke up, in a bed that was not her own, in a dark room devoid of windows, smelled a smell she could only be describe as dust, with a man she didn’t quite recognize. He lurked in the corner, quietly observing her in her slumber. Wanting so badly to touch her, because he knew he could. And he had, until that nagging feeling of guilt surfaced and he forced himself to retract his hand from traveling up her thigh and confined himself to the corner of the room. His fingers itching to touch her soft, warm skin. He admonished himself for using too much of the drug, perhaps she would have woken up already if he’d been more careful, but he figured it was a safety measure that had to be done, otherwise she might’ve woken up before he’d gotten her to his room. And what was worse was that when she did finally wake up he didn’t have much time to explain. He was happy she didn’t scream, but that could have been the drug. She most certainly wasn’t as docile when he came back.

That was a while ago now. Or… at least it felt that way to him. He was so itchy. Seeing her every day. And only barely being allowed to touch her didn’t help. In fact, it only made him that much more itchy. He tried his best to be kind, to be understanding. Not wanting her to grow bored in his absence. He’d even allowed her access to his console and games, however offline. But there was hope; she seemed to have accepted the situation more now. She had at least stopped screaming and struggling and using every second on trying to escape. He felt that maybe she was more inclined to be with him now, after spending so many hours alone. He wished she wouldn’t fight him. He really didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but… he was just so itchy.

She cursed her quirk. It had always been a nuisance. At the doctors she had to file for traditional check-ups because no healing quirk could surpass her immunity. It was a joke at best. Quirks couldn’t touch her. When it came to Tomura, she definitely saw it as a cruel joke. Without her quirk he had the power to kill her on the spot, however with her quirk the monster had fallen in love with her, clung to her as though she were the only person left on earth. What was worse was that she actually sympathized with him. “It must be a terribly lonely existence.” That’s what she’d said to him under their first encounter. This, however, by no means meant she was going to willingly become his little pet. She struggled throughout the entirety of her first day, screaming her lungs out, crying her eyes out, kicking until she had no more energy to give and then fallen asleep, only to have awoken with his arms slung around her, tightly gripping onto her as though his life depended on it. That day too, she’d thrashed and sneered when he tried touching her. However, there came the third day… when he snapped.

This was yesterday. She woke up with her wrist tied snuggly together above her head, more rope connecting them to the bedpost. A product of his growing impatience. She began hysterically crying once he climbed on top of her, begging him, pleading, bargaining, saying his name as though he were some type of malicious God she had to satisfy.

And although he’d gone through the lengths and extremities of threatening to kill all her acquaintances to quit her objections, he couldn’t go through with it. Again, he didn’t want her to feel abused. He didn’t want to cause her any pain nor be the reason behind her tears. He didn’t want her to fear him or hate him, he wanted the opposite. He adored her. All he wanted was some peace of mind, and she served as his only sanctuary.

He hadn’t fully realized how badly he wanted her before he held her in his arms throughout that entire night. He always enjoyed sleep, but with her lying against him it became nothing short of heaven. With her wrists still tied together, there was little she could do to stop him, his death threats still lingering in the air, when he started decaying every piece of clothing. Feeling the tremors run through her. The quaking as his hands danced up her exposed skin, playing with what they found. Feeling her recoil into him each time he would, in his amateurism, pinch too hard. He thought of her continuous quivering as similar to when a puppy wags its tail, to distract himself from what it really indicated. It was easy to forget himself when she was soft like velvet and smooth like silk and warm like life itself up against him. He didn’t do much more. Untying her before he had to go. Watching her rub her sore wrists made his stomach fold in guilt when he left this morning. He apologized, but she didn’t answer.

Stealing her was selfish, he could admit that, but he would make it up to her if she only allowed him one little taste…

She sat on the bed when he came back, wet hair dripping onto the sheets. She showered before he came, an attempt to wash the night off her, it only mildly irked him. He couldn’t stay mad though, not when she was sitting there so preciously with his black hoodie on, looking at him with such wide, glossy eyes. He kept the room dark; light irritated his skin, and he didn’t want to feel anything but comfort when he was with her. Besides, maybe the dark could make him seem just a little bit more appealing. She still flinched when he made to touch her.

Not wanting to scare her, he decided to kneel down instead. Enjoying how her feet didn’t meet the ground when she sat propped up on the bed. Taking her ankles, delicately gliding his fingers around them, and placed them on top of his thighs. Not letting go. He leaned his forehead against her knee, feeling as though her warm skin was absolution itself, a paradise of some sorts. She didn’t say anything, but the uncontrolled breaths were loud enough to indicate her fear. She was the one person he couldn’t harm, yet somehow, she seemed more afraid than anyone else. He would’ve laughed, but it wouldn’t have helped.

He dragged his fingers alongside her legs and came to a halt at her knees, wanting to part them. He hadn’t given her anything to wear, not seeing the point as they would probably be disintegrated anyway. She hadn’t taken the opportunity to put on one of his boxers either. All the clothes she came in were a pile of ash, thanks to him. In other words; his hoodie was the only thing she was wearing. How could he possibly hold himself back? It was almost as though she meant to antagonize him.

She felt the pressure he added to his fingertips, her knees slowly starting to spread. She curled her toes, a small whimper spluttering past her lips. She knew she shouldn’t have, but she stopped him. Taking his hands in hers. He didn’t seem all too provoked. Giving him a desperate look, one that was met with an even stronger, hungrier desperation. He leaned his chin on her knee, observing with a curious look as she intertwined her fingers with his. It was a weak attempt, but he seemed subdued. It was only for a brief moment.

“This is nice...” It reverberated through her legs, his Adam’s apple bobbing up against her kneecap. “But…” It came only a second later, however it sounded so much darker. It was such a heavy word, one laced with a sense of defeat, an apology. “I need more.” He’s fast, it only took a second before she was on top of him. Quickly propping her legs up around his waist and lifting, turning them around so she could sit firmly slotted in his lap. She knew not to struggle. He was still dangerous. Slender, but not without muscle. He was lanky and tall and above all else; devoted. There was no stopping him.

Her shoulders still grazed, although she tried to calm herself. For some reason she still didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Didn’t want to upset him. It didn’t take long before he disintegrated the hoodie, earning a tremor and a gasp from her. The feeling waved over him. He would have enjoyed it, but he was much too surprised to find yet another piece of clothing beneath. Surprised, only slightly disappointed. It was like unwrapping a present, he humored silently to himself.

He could tell it was best to go slow, in order not to break the shell. He didn’t want her to cry, and he was sure if he did too much too fast, she would almost certainly start bawling. Giving into simply brushing the now settled dust off her, yet quickly getting carried away. Digging his calloused fingers into the doughy flesh of her thighs, all very slowly, enjoying himself carefully. He was still getting used it, marveling at how she didn’t fall apart under his touch. Still, he wanted more, he needed more. He glid his hands up the sides of her waist and she started shaking. Trembling knees, caused trembling thighs and so on and so forth, and the feeling of her quaking against him felt nothing short of unhinging. His mouth watered and he had to swallow, trying his best to pace his breathing, failing however, it only made him sound that much more crazed.

“Tomura…” It was a small attempt at a protest, especially when he quite enjoyed the sound of his name drip so sweetly off her tongue. Anyone else with the same ambitions would probably have ignored it, but he wanted her to understand. To understand that she was more than a toy to him, that she was godsend. He didn’t want her hurt, he wanted something else. And that’s why he chose words.

“People die when I touch them.” He didn’t look into her eyes, not sure what would stare back at him. He didn’t want to see plead, or… he didn’t want to take pleasure in her pleading. “So, I’ve kept my hands to myself.” She wasn’t sure if he believed that his actions were justifiable. She wasn’t sure if it were himself or her he was trying to fool. “I haven’t touched anyone…” It sounded desperate. “Felt anyone…” It sounded broken. “For so long.” It was hard not to sympathize. It was hard to be angry at him. “I’ve stayed away.” She almost felt the urge to hug him. “Only touching people when its necessary.” If he’d given her just a few more days, then perhaps she would have. “I feel like I deserve this.” It came out hungry. It was raw and untamed and wrong.

The sympathy nearly vanished at that. It wasn’t her fault that he was like this. It wasn’t her burden, and yet here she was, like some sacrifice to a hungry god. Her hands pressured against his chest, in an obvious strive to make him release her. His hands tightened.

“Tomura, please…” Though he liked her voice, he didn’t care for her pleas. It wasn’t something he wanted to hear, because he was sure; if he tasted her begging just once, he was certain he’d find that he didn’t actually mind, that he… would rather enjoy it instead.

“It’s either this or something highly unpleasant.” His eyes met hers.

She was shocked at how fast his mood changed; like a child when you take away one of their toys or refuse to play with them. The first tear fell at that, his hand rose from its position to wipe it away, before he planted it back on her hip, rubbing the wetness onto her skin. Feeling like a pioneer of some sorts, having never done anything like it before.

“You know I’ve never bruised anyone.” His voice was different, wintry and empty. “Never made art on someone else’s skin.” It only got darker. “Not without them turning to ash…” His gaze fell back onto her hips, his fingers planting themselves more firmly into her. “I’ve never beaten anyone to a pulp.” His eyes seemed to partly stare at what purple galaxy he could make form under his nails. “They just up and disappear before I get the chance to.” On the other part he was staring into some unknown future; untapped desires, dark desires, violent desires. “I’ve never slapped anyone.” She braced herself, expected him to spank her. “Never felt anyone’s trembling skin.” She was positively trembling; she was quaking. “Never truly felt it.” He sounded desperate again. The icy tone was almost completely gone, turning yet again into something broken. “Not all of it.” It was only barely above a whisper. “Don’t you see?” His eyes were wide, full of something akin to ambition; hope? “You were made for me.” It wasn’t hope, it was resolution.

He kept burying his nails into her hips, so much it started to hurt. She got the feeling he was waiting for her to make a move, perhaps he was struggling to do so himself? And when she finally felt herself wincing at the pain, with his blood-red eyes digging into her soul, much like his fingers on her sides, she reached out and kissed him. Whimpering and leaning in closer, yet his fingers only barely relented. Her hands; limp at her sides, made to circle around his neck, softly entangling in his silvery locks. In the briefest moment she wanted to pull at it, drag him away from her, but she didn’t. She kept kissing, lightly sucking on his bottom lip. He moaned a strained groan, but his fingers only ceased their iron-grip when she pushed her chest flush against his. They then moved to her lower back, and then lower, finding their way down slowly, and squeezed at what they found down there, earning yet another whimper from her, although, when received by his mouth, much to his enjoyment, it sounded like a moan. He pulled her closer at that, grinding her against him. What she felt grind up against her, despite layers of fabric in between, scared her. His hands traveled again, this time upwards. Meeting her second shirt before there was no longer any shirt to meet, the cold air nipping at her exposed self.

As if shocked out of her state, she struggled again, but only for a moment. He was so fast. Before she even knew what was happening, she was firmly pinned beneath him, his hands locked around her wrists, tightening his hold until she gave him an apologetic look. He loosened them at that, but didn’t let go, not yet. Eyes flickering between hers and her lips, his thumb rubbing over the soft skin where her veins were stored on her wrists. He went in slowly, wanting her to half-initiate it herself, when she did without protest, without him threatening her, he lost it. Crashing into her, kissing, licking, biting as though he were starved. His hands moved with him, stroking down her arms tenderly, revering at the softness of what was found beneath his fingertips. She didn’t move her hands from above her head, didn’t know where to place them if she did.

He went exploring with his mouth. Down her neck, nipping at her collarbone. She expected his tongue to be dry like the rest of him, it wasn’t. Wet and sloppy; drooling was a better word for it. He left trails of himself down her chest. His hands, with steadily more and more added pressure, cupped one of her breasts, pinching and playing with the perky nib found there. His other hand got to work on disintegrating his pants, and then his shirt, and then nothing else was left to destroy. Except the bed, but he would break that in as well, in some other creative way. Her chest heaved more and more, frantically begging for more air; panicking. He decided to think of it as her wanting to get closer. He certainly was. Now that there was no more obstruction from his skin and hers, he struggled to not drop his entire weight onto her.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he was supposed to do, but ended up not thinking about it too much, settling for doing what he felt like doing. His hands groping, messaging, rubbing each breast. His tongue fluttering at how her perky nipple tickled him when he sucked and flicked over it. Her hands sprung forward to push him off when he bit too hard, though he caught them easily, pinning them down to her sides, deciding to ignore the act and continue with his exploration.

She started crying now, trying to keep quiet as much as she could, yet he heard the sniffles and tiny hiccups. He let go of her wrists again, watching as she gripped the sheets tightly, trying to hold back. Staring at the ceiling, studying the smooth, white surface. Thinking how her life no longer belonged to her.

It was strange, he was more bothered by the fact that he didn’t care whether she cried or not. Of course, he preferred it if she enjoyed herself too, but as long as he made the itchy feeling beneath his skin go away, he couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty. As much as he wanted to be patient for her, he couldn’t wait any longer. Grabbing himself and placing the tip of his cock at her entrance.

“Tomura-” She protested, knowing how this couldn’t possibly be pretty. She wasn’t remotely wet, and he didn’t really seem about to assist with any moisture himself. But he couldn’t care more for her begging. Catching her wrists with one hand as he continued with what he was doing.

“I already told you-” He hissed, but she cut him off before he could threaten her a second time.

“Let me help.” Her voice was a soft kind of desperate. He’d been too frenzied to realize that she wasn’t really struggling or fighting him. Her large eyes found his in a feeble attempt to break through whatever craze he was in. Letting go of her wrists gave her the answer to her request. He sat up and she followed, crawling out from beneath him. About to grab her and place her back, he halted when he saw her coming back completely on her own volition. Her hands pressed softly against his chest, asking him to lower himself onto the pillows behind him. “Lie down.” And, although they were worded like demands, they didn’t sound that way whatsoever coming from her. He did what she said nonetheless, eyeing her every move, on high alert, ready to grab her if she were to run and lock herself in the bathroom. He was truly expecting anything else than her soft, warm and wet lips sliding down his cock in an almost loving fashion. Brows furrowed abruptly, mouth apart as he let out a long, shaky, gasping moan. Fingers stretching and curling into the sheets. Only barely keeping his wits with him to raise his pinky above the others, in order not to destroy whatever heaven he was in.

She’d placed herself between his thighs. On her knees with her ass raised up into the air, her head bowed and bobbing up and down on his shaft. Her hands supporting her on his stomach. Touching him. Like worship, he thought, looking down at her working hard to please him. With that thought simmering though his mind, he found the courage to ruffle his fingers through her hair. Refraining from adding any pressure, not assisting her in any way. He simply messaged and stroked and felt her eager movements on him. Heavenly sounds of sloshing and gurgling and slobbering and struggling filled the room as she continued going down, hollowing out her cheeks, running her tongue up and down, from side to side around him almost hungrily.

Toes curling into the sheets beneath him. Head thrown back onto the comfort of the pillows. He focused on the warm walls tightening around him, the wetness that slid up and down his cock, the tip of him pushing against her throat, begging to go deeper. He hadn’t meant it… how his hips jerked in the slightest attempt to push himself further down her throat. It was far from a real thrust, but it was no less noticeable. She took the hint, choking him all the way down to the hilt, feeling him bend down her throat. Gagging on him, her knees shifted, tempted to lie down on her stomach, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, but she held back and kept sucking, with him all the way down her throat, until she finally let herself breathe.

Mesmerized by her sudden performance, his eyes glued onto her, delighted to see a string of drool connecting her lips to his cock when she tore away. It didn’t take long before she dove back in. Her one hand shifting from its place on his chest to fondle his balls, playing with them in her palm. Her tongue gliding up and down, licking the sides of him, giving each of his balls a suck and a kiss each time she went all the way down.

He was moaning and groaning fervently, his eyes nearly traveling all the way back into his skull. His toes cramping in their curled state. Being so lost in the moment. Before he even realized she had stopped, she’d placed her knees on the outside of either side of him. Her hand continuing to stroke him, with her other hand playing and messaging her own clit, preparing herself. She hovered above him. He started feeling cold upon the lack of contact, but the chill was soon replaced as he pushed inside her folds.

They moaned simultaneously this time. His was closer to a growl, whereas hers was more of a whimper. She sat there for a second, trying to get used to his length and size inside her, trying to make it all feel more comfortable, before she started riding. Slow, deep, heavy riding, letting the cock inside her hit every spot that had her nearly mewling. Bucking her hips forward, rolling onto him, with her hands once again placed on his chest. She couldn’t look at him, feeling so dirty and guilty for the building knot inside her stomach, the one that was now constantly teased by his large member inside her. She closed her eyes instead, not thinking of the circumstances, focusing on how insanely good it felt to be stretched out and filled to the very brink, despite not really wanting to think about it at all.

He, however, was staring at her as though it was the first time he ever truly saw anyone. He was so caught up in the moment, he’d forgotten about the deadly touch lingering in his fingers all together. So very spellbound by how her small, soft, delicate hands touched him, how her hair fell down her shoulders and tickled the skin on her breasts, how her brows had equally furrowed together as his own, how her lashes fluttered and lips parted even more with each beautiful moan that escaped them. He barely even registered how her hands picked his hands up and placed them on her hips for him so that he could rock her at his own tempo.

His grip didn’t tighten as she had suspected them to, they didn’t grope or poke as they did earlier. They hung loosely on top of her thighs, his thumbs stroking over her hips in encouragement of everything she was doing.

Placing her hands back on his stomach, she stroked up his chest and throat to lock her fingers in his silver hair. Her chest brushing up against his as she started kissing and sucking at his neck. Bracing herself by propping her feet up under her legs. Rocking her hips faster, no longer just rolling, but jumping up and down on her knees, all still rather graciously, done with somewhat expertise. He groaned at the sudden increase in tempo, his hands traveling on their own over her hips to grip at the plump flesh of her behind.

He knew he was much less experienced than her, but at least he knew what he wanted as well. Slowly getting over the surprise that had currently knocked him into shock and awe, he decided to gain more control. Especially now that he felt himself slip away and near his end. He pushed his thighs up, making her shift further up on him. She only moaned in response to him strapping his hands around her torso and lifting them both up into a sitting position, with her nuzzling perfectly in his lap. He ran his hands down her back and cupped her thighs, raising her up to tangle her legs around him. Now, sitting on his knees, he made to thrust into her and slap her back on his cock without her having any control over the new current of the motion.

He moaned savagely, feeling complete bliss befall him like a wave. She clung to him, actually clung to him for dear life, and it felt so fucking heavenly to feel her continue to nibble and suck and lick and kiss at the scars he’d created on his neck. With her arms wrapped around his back as though she couldn’t bear to let go. It was too much. She was too much. He couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t last any longer. He dropped her down onto the bed again, his cock slipping out and into his grip as he pumped the last few pumps it took before he came. Ropes of milky liquid sprouted from his cock and fell over her stomach, before he collapsed back onto her. His cheek pressed against her chest. Hot and heavy breaths brushed across her stomach. Drool slipping down from his mouth and onto her breast.

She didn’t dare move, despite feeling the wanton urge to touch herself until she as well peaked her orgasm. She remained still, or at least tried to, but it was hard when the fire within her stomach demanded attention. She tried to keep the quaking under wraps, but it was impossible. He hummed against her chest upon the feeling, it almost turned into a chuckle. He had clearly gained his confidence, acting all smug and cocky when he motioned his hand to rub at her clit. She jolted upon the touch, moaning and arching her back up against him. He kissed a quick trail down her stomach, everything sprawled out for him to see and touch as he so pleased. She was nearly begging when his eyes met hers. “Let me help you.” It was mockingly sweet, but she found she quite liked the sound of it. His thumb rubbing circles upon the sensitive spot, as he lowered his mouth to lick between the folds. She moaned brazenly, her fingers again tousling into his hair. He propped her one leg up over his shoulder, gaining more access.

She felt the pulsating, roaring, drooling sensation build and build until it nearly hurt, her hips lolling into him between her legs. His tongue running and delving into her, his teeth lightly and teasingly nipping at the tender flesh. Sucking until she let out that last earthshattering moan, her body convulsing in spasms and violent quakes. He gave a couple more licks to her clit and felt her panic beneath him, much to his enjoyment. He didn’t torture her oversensitivity for too long, before he climbed back up and nuzzled into her neck. Happy when he felt her fingers stroking his head again; affectionately.

No more words were exchanged. The presence of night laid thickly inside the room. The both of them unable to keep their lids open, not really fighting of the sleep that soon overwhelmed them either. Skin to skin. Heartbeat to heartbeat. They fell asleep soundly. And when Tomura woke up the next day, their limbs tangled together in one comfortable knot, he felt as though it might have been the very first time he actually felt rested.

[seneon]

𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄'𝐒 𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃.

the first tombstone an individual's eyes set on the moment the sole of their feet stepped into the cemetery. the grave belongs to a bookselling vampire, who mysterious ceased in his existence one day. although he has died, his blood still flows.

SAE X FEMALE! READER 🎬 tw: mentions of blood. A/N — first piece of my spooktober graveyard series! this is actually a sequel to one of the works i've written before in my other account. it's linked after allat writing. enjoy and hbd to my beautiful bf sae 🫶🏼

in the tenth year of the seventh century, there were countless reports of the lives and blood of the citizens rapidly decreasing. in other words, they were all found dead—body malnourished, skin rotting, gaze locked up to the sky that had seen everything played before their last breath.

there was one thing they all had in common. two small bites on their neck. or anywhere around their body in general, starting from head and down to the very tippy toes.

just like that, their soul has been sucked out. it was the work of vampires, vicious bloodsucking creatures who walked the same ground as a human would. except, they only walk during the night.

sunlight burned their skin. the day and brightness made them cry out in pain. and their eyes started to disintegrate at the sight of the brightest of colours.

what would humanity ever do when they found out there was one single vampire that roamed around the streets like any average man?

dressed and disguised as a bookseller in the day, teeth growing out to be a vampire in the night.

to the citizens, itoshi sae the vintage bookseller sold the greatest books all of town. not only does he sell books, but he writes them and publishes his own. the man also collects books.

his entire life is based on the scent of old papers and the finest ink ever brewed. not even the sharp scent of bloody iron could rival with the scent of sae's library.

that was the daytime of the bookseller itoshi sae's life. it was all warm, cozy, and coffees. and then there was night. a creature who hungers for the blood of others.

all on his mind could only ever be the reddest liquid that tastes like iron. sae could never get enough of blood. he loved how the flavour coats his mouth after he sucks them straight from a person's neck. he absolutely enjoys stabbing his sharp fangs into the skin of an innocent soul.

with enough blood, itoshi sae could go days and nights without having to find another soul to snack on.

sae dropped the cold body on the ground and gently wiped his lips with a handkerchief. the piece of cloth had initials on it, and it wasn't his initials. every single time he uses it, he is reminded of the handkerchief's owner.

a beautiful woman with an alluring aura. hair in the most beautiful shade he has ever seen. her features were dazzling and breathtaking that it took sae's breath away the moment he set his eyes on her form, sitting on a high tree branch, her eyes gazing right into the moon with the most hateful thoughts in her head.

the woman hated the moon. it took away her ability to be able to walk under the sun, leaving her to face the moon every night with her lust for blood growing stronger and stronger every day.

"y/n l/n…" sae muttered under his breath as his soft teal eyes stared at your name imprinted into the piece of cloth. his fingers lightly brushed over the stitching before continuing to wipe the rest of his dirty fingers stained by blood.

y/n l/n.

a noblewoman of a vampiress, known for her beauty throughout nations but disappeared without a trace on one unfortunate night. she would never be seen again.

except for when itoshi sae came across her a few centuries later, her beauty charming him. in an instant, her fangs were already deep into his skin. but there was a twist. instead of screaming and suffering in pain, the man embraced the beautiful vampire and softly kissed her temples.

what a surprise for a vampire that has not felt the love and touch of a human being in so long as she longed for one. the feeling twisted her entire mind so much that she wanted more.

before the bookseller could expect what the rest of his life could become, he began paying frequent visits to the vampiress in search of solace from the world. in exchange, she seeks for his love and blood.

now, after wiping all the blood of his victim, he made his way to the forest where he usually meets y/n.

how long was it? that he saw her sitting above the highest tree branch, her feet dangling away in boredom as she hummed the songs that her loyal subjects used to sing for her?

"it has been decades, has it not, m'lady y/n?" sae asked himself, feeling himself slightly smile at the memories he had with you. those nights that were the most memorable for him.

"you bestowed a curse upon me, yet blessed me with your own blood. i hated you and yet i love you for that."

the man bit his lower lip in an attempt to suppress any emotions that might surface during the dead of night.

your vampire blood has become itoshi sae's vampire blood, making him the current blood eater for the next few decades. or even centuries.

prequel of vampire 🪦 spooktober graveyard series | NEXT

© SENEON OCT 10th 2023 | 1st PIECE OF S. GRAVEYARD.

[kisskissbanggang]

I fucking love that idea. It was Minho, in the bathroom, with the ribbed vibrator. 😏🙏

[mica you can have whatever you want, including my heart 😌]

[dom!idol, sub!reader, toy play, elements of hate sex, elements of degredation, dirty talk]

“You know you’re out of clean towels?” Minho casually called into the hallway.

That little—

Why didn’t Jisung take his brother with him when he got called away unexpectedly? He knew the two of you did not get along, but for some reason Minho had been around you and your best friend more and more lately.

You sat up straight in your seat, already huffing out an exasperated sigh. There was no way you didn’t have any clean towels, because the number one thing Minho loved to harp on you for when it came to your bathroom lately was how “little” you switched out the stupid hand towels. Which was bullshit, by the way, but you knew Minho needed a new thing to rib you about every week or else he’d die of boredom. You stomped down the hallway, ready to rail on Minho when you opened the door—

Only to be faced with Minho, leaning tall and proud back against your sink... with your new vibrator in hand. The cabinet he found it stowed away in was still open. Apparently, the only thing Minho couldn’t find were the right ways to mercilessly tease you about his prize. Your face burned up immediately. You let out a stunned laugh. “You’re such a prick—“

“This is fancy,” Minho shook his head as he admired the soft ridges on the silicone toy. “I didn’t take you for the type.”

“You don’t know my type,” you bit back, making a meager swipe at the toy to try and grab it back, before Minho ducked back and away from your groping hand.

“I just figured you were a prude, that’s all,” Minho retorted, making you scowl and lean forward in an attempt to grab the dumb thing back again. If you hadn’t still been wearing the cute dress you’d gone out in, you would’ve grappled him to the ground and gotten it back by now.

“Whether I’m a prude or not is none of your business,” you glowered, your chest shoving into his as he held the toy away from you like a playground bully.

“What? I think it’s sort of cute,” Minho teased, “that you’re so buttoned up but you know what you like.” Your face burned even hotter, on the cusp of disintegration when he suddenly brandished the expensive toy under your nose. “Isn’t this a bit big? I’m surprised you can handle this, with how uptight you are. You have such a big mouth but I bet you couldn’t even get it around this.”

The spite that made you tentatively open your “big mouth” and lick the tip of the vibrator surprised you, but not as much as it apparently surprised Minho, whose eyes immediately widened as he froze up.

“What did you say about my big mouth?” You softly taunted before you closed your lips around the head of the toy, your eyes locked firmly on his.

Minho groaned.

“Tell me why you like this one,” he asked quietly.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” you grinned, “but I like the way these ridges feel inside me.” His eyes darted to your fingers coming up to caress the ribbed material of the toy, practically showing him a whole simulated blowjob where you were leaned up against him. You were surprised to see Minho caught off guard for once, his cheeks flushing while he tried to gulp down the sudden dryness in his throat. As much as you didn’t get along, you would’ve been crazy to not notice the occasional bulge in his jeans by now, or his striking features that stuck with you more than you cared to admit. Minho was hypnotized as you continued to tease him, licking and sucking the toy he was still holding up for you.

“What’s the matter?” You cooed. “Are you threatened by it? Don’t think you measure up?”

All it took was for you to press your hips to his, the bulge in his jeans growing hard against you while your fingertips drifted down to tease along his belt, that Minho finally couldn’t take it anymore. His hand snaked around to the small of your back to hold you tight before he turned you both around and pushed you back against the sink. “I take it back,” he said with a shake of his head. “You’re not a prude, you’re a little tease and you’ve been hiding it from me.”

“You’re right,” you heartily shook your head, “I should’ve just let you have it with having to earn it.”

“Oh, I’ll fucking earn it,” Minho growled under his breath as his hips pressed against yours and pushed you up onto the ledge of the sink. He slipped the vibrator deeper into your mouth, making you suck on the toy before you felt his hand on your knee. You froze up. Minho withdrew the toy from your lips for a second. “Stop me.”

Minho actually may have flinched as you put your hand on his, but he groaned deep in his throat as you slid him up your thigh and under your dress. To goad him further, you resumed licking and sucking the vibrator. A chill ran through him at the feel of how much you soaked your panties by now, and right away he pushed the flimsy material down your thighs. You stepped out of your panties, leaving the damp garment on the floor as Minho yanked the toy out of your mouth. His eyes bore into you for just a second before he dove into you, his kiss almost angry with how he drove his lips against yours. “Ask for it,” he demanded.

“In your fucking dreams—“ you teased, cut off as Minho teased the head of the toy, slicked with your spit, against the entrance of your pussy.

“Ask for it,” Minho repeated as he kissed along your throat. He barely dipped the toy into you. “Don’t be a prude and fucking ask for it.”

“You’re a disgusting brat,” you moaned as you tried to grind down onto the vibrator. You nearly whimpered as he shoved your hips back against the sink to still you and teased the toy deep into you once before he pulled it back out.

“Ask,” he ordered.

“Minho,” you gasped sharply, “fuck me.”

“Fucking finally.”

The way Minho was positioned against you, you could almost imagine it was his cock sliding all the way inside you as he hungrily kissed and nipped at your neck, but not when he turned the toy on to its lowest setting. You shuddered with thick arousal, your favorite toy filling you up beautifully and the vibrating pulses reverberating through your core. “Minho,” you pleaded as he thrust the toy in and out of your hot pussy, “more.”

“And you want to cum, is that it?” Minho grinned. Minho teasingly offered you his tongue when he kissed you again, and you were quickly coming undone, rolling your hips against his thrusting hand and groaning hot into his mouth. You clutched onto the ledge of the sink as Minho fucked you, and you were steadily climbing your peak. “If you want to cum, you better tell me how much you want it.”

“Minho, come on,” you pleaded.

“Say it,” he shrugged as he nonchalantly pulled the toy out of you. You could’ve screamed. The vibrator could be heard buzzing by your hip.

“Minho,” you repeated.

“Say it, slut,” he shook his head “I don’t care if you cum. In fact, I’ll leave and take this with me.”

You nearly whimpered again. Minho was making you need him, that prick. He had the most smug grin as you clutched at the collar of his shirt and yanked him close for another kiss. “Minho, I swear to god if you don’t make me cum I’ll torture you next time. I’ll make you wish you were dead. Now please, I need it so bad.”

“Next time?” Minho smirked as he spread you open on the sink. The toy entered you again at his own agonizing pace as he held you still on the counter, taking his time to let you feel each pulsing ridge along its velvety length. “Make it quick, then.”

Your fingernails dug into Minho’s arm as he resumed fucking you in earnest, his moans searing and heavy in your ear as he leaned over you again to litter your face and neck with kisses. The haze of your impending orgasm was dizzying, it made you lightheaded as you groaned and whimpered and babbled your pathetic little pleas to cum, until Minho finally increased the speed on the vibrator. You clenched, your toes curling as you came undone with a shuddered cry on your bathroom sink.

Minho was surprisingly gentle as he gave you a second to calm down before he turned the toy off and slowly slid it out of you. He kissed your forehead, he even held your hand for a moment. The silence shared between both of you catching your breath was loaded, heavy, and short. Soon enough, that same smug grin was back.

“Did you mean it about next time?”

[jawritter]

The Devil And I

Part 1

Summary: What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, right? You survived after you thought your mate had died, but how will you survive finding out he's alive, only different.

Warning: Heartbreak, pining sickness, ABO dynamics, ABO, angst, tears, I think that's it for this part.

Pairing: Alpha!Demon Dean x Omega!Reader; Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 1965

A/N: I decided to bring this little mini series over to you guys from Patreon because I have been so busy working on a series that I haven’t been able to write any new one shots, and you guys have been asking for some ABO. This is a little different from my normal ABO series, and it’s totally unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this one!

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Life has a way of fucking with you. The things you thought you had gotten over and permanently walked away from have a way of coming right back around to bite you in the ass when you least expect it.

It took years for you to get over Dean Winchester. Nights of panic attacks, nightmares, near death-inducing heartbreak, and suffocating grief that you honestly thought would be the death of you. Finally, one day at a time, you started to surface from your title wave of gut-wrenching emotions and heartache to start to live a little again at a time.

It has taken you years to get where you are now. To be able to get up and function like a normal person. To be able to eat something, and keep it down. To be able to sleep through the night, on most nights anyway. The only visible scar you carried on your body was your faded and disintegrating claiming mark that once marked you as Dean’s mate.

It was a miracle you had survived his rejection, and it was an even bigger miracle that you didn’t get pregnant through the whole ordeal, but to say Dean wasn’t exactly himself when he’d claimed you was an understatement. In fact, his eyes were normally not the bright green that was shining through the dimly lit bar you were both sitting in right now. They were, in fact, coal black when you met him, and they were black the last night you saw him.

You could scent him across the bar that you were working at when he walked in, and even though he scent was... different. Not as strong, not as sharp, more of the warm sandalwood, and pine than it was when he was with you. 

When he was with you there was a spice to it. Now that was gone.

You could tell by the way he’d held his body, and carried himself as he played pool with a tall man that you assumed was the “Sammy” he’d left you to confront, and the Omega that was with them, he wasn’t the same man. He didn’t seem as lethal, or like he could take on the whole bar with the very snap of his fingers like he had. He seemed… Well… Normal.

Dean had picked you up here at the bar one night when he came in alone, and you were drawn to him instantly. His scent was mouthwatering as it was now, and there was an almost supernatural pull that drew you to him. He took you in the back of his ‘67 Chevy, knotted you, claimed you, and that’s how you learned of the world of angels and demons. Most importantly that Dean wasn’t exactly human, and he owned you as well as your very soul.

You suppressed a whine and forced yourself to look down at the beer in front of you; peeling the label with your fingers as you tried to focus on the bottle in front of you and not the green-eyed man that was at one time your Alpha, but now was so different.

You could hear his boom of a laugh from across the crowd of people, and your heart felt like it was being ripped out of your chest anew. Well, what was left of a heart anyway. You thought it had all died by now, apparently, there was a little bit left.

When the pining sickness had finally left, and you miraculously survived it, you were convinced that Dean had died. That’s why the mark he’d left on you was fading, and that’s why he never came back for you.

Dean would always come back. Sure, sometimes it was covered in head to toe with someone else’s blood; but town to town, city to city, he never left you behind.

Dean was twisted, and he liked things hard, rough, and bloody, but sometimes there was a softness there that made you wonder what kind of man you used to be, now you knew, because it was standing right in front of you.

“You okay miss?” a young man asked you as he walked by your table, and you hurriedly wiped the tears away that you hadn’t even realized had fallen until the young man had got your attention away from Dean and his pool stick he was leaning on.

You cleared your throat and nodded before answering him.

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice so small that you barely heard it yourself above the sounds of the bar that filled the room.

The young man’s eyes followed the path of your previous gaze before landing back on you.

“That asshole Alpha do something to hurt you, Omega, the one that is leaning against the pool table?” he asked, but you just shook your head no, and after staring at you a few more seconds he gave up and turned to leave you in your misery.

You knew you had to get up and walk out of this bar, that people were going to notice that you were a mess, and you were going to attract unwanted attention from the other Alpha’s in the bar, but you just didn’t have it in you.

It was like some invisible force you had no control over was holding you to your seat, and even if you tried to stand up, your legs would collapse from under you, and you would then just be a puddle of nothing on the floor.

You watched every move Dean made. The way his body angled as he lined up his shot on the pool table, the way his tongue peeked out of his lips just enough to see the tip while he furrowed his brow in concentration.

Everything about him was so familiar but so different all at the same time. He was still just as beautiful, just as strong and heartbreakingly handsome. Still, he wasn’t the same Alpha that had claimed you. The mark on his arm was gone, and the scent was slightly different. It was almost like the demon had become the man again, and you were just left behind, and all but forgotten about.

The game of pool ended, and the winnings were split amongst Dean and the two other men playing against him and Sam, then after it was over Dean downed the rest of his beer as Sam slung his arm around his Omega, and they all turned to make their way out of the bar.

This was it, Dean was leaving again, and he was leaving without you. You felt like your chest had literally been slip open, and that you were about to die right there in that corner booth. You didn’t even realize you were following them until the cold night air hit your tear-streaked face, and the railing of the small porch attached to the front of the old wood-framed bar stopped you.

You weren’t the only one that noticed you had followed the three out of the bar. Sam’s Omega grabbed at his shirt and pulled until she got his attention, then pointed at you. You were frozen to the spot, too scared to move. The hazel eyes of the tall Alpha watched you for a moment, but you just couldn’t move.

Finally, Sam cleared his throat to get his brother’s attention, and Dean followed his gaze. One foot in the driver side door of the Impala, and his impressive frame hidden mostly behind the door.

You watched as Dean’s brow furrowed in confusion as his eyes raked over your trembling form before looking at Sam, who was looking between yourself and Dean. Both men shared a tense glance as if having some sort of silent conversation between themselves before Dean’s eyes found your own again. Even though the blurred, tear-stained vision you had, you could see how his green eyes sparkled against the darkness of the parking lot.

Looking at him this close, you could see the darkness that once was there was lifted; the man that you always assumed was underneath on full display.

“Omega,” he said, the deep tremble of his voice shooting through your shell shocked brain, making you flinch back as his voice seemed to send a joist of electricity directly to the claiming mark that was all but gone now.

“Omega, are you okay?” Sam asked, and you shot a wild gaze in his direction before your eyes fell back on Dean, who was gradually making his way closer to you, leaving the door open to his ‘67 Impala.

You could feel every fiber of your being pulling you towards the man that used to be your Alpha as if your body was calling out to him, and you wondered if he could feel it too. There was no way you could ask him because right now all you could do was cry.

Sam kept his distance but kept his eyes on you as Dean approached you slowly with his hands raised as if to show you he meant you no harm. The closer he got the stronger his scent seemed to become.

“Dean,” Sam said, a warning in his voice, and Dean shot a look at his brother that you didn’t understand. All you could understand was that this was your Alpha, and he didn’t even recognize you. You could see it in the way he moved, in his eyes.

Then he saw it. The faded claiming mark on your throat, and you watched as he tried to swallow around the lump in his throat.

He was close enough to grab you before he finally reached his hand out for you to take. “Omega, where is your Alpha?” he asked, still completely unaware that your Alpha was standing there asking you the very question everyone else was thinking; the one you had thought for months.

“You… You don’t know… Do you?” you finally made your own voice work enough to ask him. He turned his head in confusion and took a step closer to you. When he did, in a fit of bravery, you grabbed his large calloused hand and placed it directly over your faded calming mark.

You watched as his pupils dilated, and recognition swept over his face. He almost stumped as he pulled his hand away from your neck, around three shades paler than he was a moment ago.

“Dean?” Sam asked, and you vaguely noticed that his Omega was now standing very close to his right arm with her hand on his bicep.

“She… She’s my Omega… I claimed her when I was a demon,” Dean said, his eyes locked on yours, and you were pretty sure he could see your pulse racing just under your skin.

You were a shaking, trembling, mess standing there in front of the man that once was your Alpha. You felt like your world was spinning around you, and knew if he rejected you right now, and walked away from you again you’d never live through it. Not this time.

“Your, I’m sorry what?” Sam asked, sharing a look from his Omega to Dean.

“I’m so sorry,” Dean said, shaking his head as he took a good step back from. You grabbed the railing for support, and looked down at your feet, unable to look at the man that was once your Alpha.

“Dean, she’s not gonna…”

“I know Sam!” Dean yelled before his brother could finish his statement, and you almost hit your knees.

Dean instinctively reached out and caught you in his strong hold, and his scent surrounded you so thick that you felt like it was seeping through our very skin. The world started to fade from your vision, and the next thing you remember was everything going black around you.

Pt. 2 here

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[wallgirl]

The Little Nereid Part 16

Record of Ragnarok fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Word count: 2,800

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful. Loving someone like Poseidon is not easy period, let alone as your first love. But Dynamene is young and naïve, and all she wants is a chance to be at the sea god’s side.

Categories and warnings: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending, slow-burn (ish); no sexual content. Graphic violence parts 15 and 16.

Updated regularly; will have about 20 parts total.

Edit AGAIN 9/16: Changed and added some text at the end, particularly with Poseidon. Didn’t save first time.

Violence and body horror throughout this chapter, largely unavoidable. It's too relevant to the plot. Not terribly graphic - more PG-13 than R - but it is disturbing, so be warned.

—

The prongs had completely passed through her body to the other end. Dynamene staggered backwards, her legs giving out. She opened her mouth to scream, to gasp, to make any sound, but was unable to. She brought her shaking hands up to her chest and stared as her lifewater began to drip from the punctures.

Poseidon's face turned to one of disbelief, then horror. The magic that had transformed her appearance melted away as her body began to weaken, revealing the petite girl's real form. He swallowed, pale hand clenching the trident, as he watched her stare at her chest in disoriented confusion. The silvery water that flowed was the blood of a Nereid, magic water in essence; something that could not be replicated.

"Dynamene," he whispered. "Dynamene." No. This can't be.

She looked up at him in a daze, eyes glazing over. The look of horror on his face seemed to register in her mind, and for a moment, she lifted one arm in his direction. Then her legs buckled and her eyes closed.

He removed the trident slowly, his knuckles white from the death grip. He dropped to one knee to catch her with his free arm as the prongs came loose. One hand went to her injuries, feeling the lifewater that seeped between his fingers. "Dynamene," he repeated hoarsely, commanding her to awaken. Her eyelids didn't even flutter.

It was then that the situation hit him entirely, and he grit his teeth. He tore part of the fabric off of his waist wrap and wrapped it about her chest deftly. She was still breathing, although each breathe was shallow and ragged. Time was of the essence, and he had to think fast.

Humans would not have survived such a blow, but Nereids were effectively shapeshifting ocean spirits that took a human form. Their bodies were made up of living water instead of flesh and organs, which rendered them impervious to most injuries. However, Poseidon's trident was able to harm any being regardless of body material, and Dynamene's body would begin to disintegrate from the trauma.

Lifting her up into his arms, he turned towards the doorway. There was no time to waste.

With improbable timing, he heard dozens of footsteps clamoring up the stairs, followed by worried shouts. "What's happened? What was that clamor? Lord Poseidon, are you okay?"

The other Nereids came bursting in with Actaea at the head. There was a moment of terrible silence as they took in the scene before them, then cries of disbelief.

"What... What have you DONE?!" Actaea screamed, lunging at Poseidon. Three other sisters quickly grabbed her by the arms, struggling to hold her back. "What did you do to her?!"

"There's no time to explain," Poseidon said coldly. "Don't give me a reason to hurt any of the rest of you."

"You monster! I'll kill you myself!" Actaea shrieked, yanking to get out of her sisters' grasp. Her pupils were full-blown in her rage, her steaming hair swirling angrily about her face. "How dare you hurt her! How could you?!"

Poseidon didn't let her words' effect on him show through in his expression as he looked coolly at the others. "Dynamene had magic used on her. It wasn't any power of the gods. Where might she have had access to this magic?"

The other Nereids backed away from him reproachfully, looking less and less human as their fury consumed them. One finally spoke up in a trembling voice. "Is... Is there not a witch that took up residence a few centuries ago not far from here?"

"How do you know that?" Another sister snapped back.

"A mermaid acquaintance of mine went to see her some time ago for help... She made a deal with her to solve a relationship matter. The deal wasn't much in her favor, unfortunately."

Poseidon's face darkened further. Would Dynamene really have made a deal with a witch?

Of course she would've... If it had meant being by my side. Foolish, silly, stupid-

He couldn't allow his thoughts to go any further, not when the subject of his berating was curled up limp in his arms. "Where is this witch?"

"Um... She lives in one of the deepest trenches, but I know little else..."

"Useless," Poseidon huffed. "Get out of my way." He stepped in front of the Nereids that continued to block the doorway.

There was a tense moment of defiance as the Nereids continued to stand in his way, unwilling to let him depart with their wounded youngest sister. His lip curled in outrage, and he began to raise his hand towards his discarded trident. Actaea, her expression now somber, spoke again in a defeated voice. "Let him pass... There's nothing we can do for Dynamene in this state. I don't want anyone else getting harmed." Her sisters listened, and reluctantly parted to allow him through. As he strode past, they got a closer look at their mortally wounded sister. Several of them broke out into wails and sobs.

Poseidon clenched his jaw and held the still Nereid closer to his chest. Save your mourning. She's not dead. Not yet.

Dynamene's body was beginning to dissolve. Drops of shimmering water began to fall from her fingertips and toes. She'd be dead before dawn if Poseidon didn't find a solution soon. But he was inexperienced with the concept of healing anything other than sea life; he pressed his hand against her torso, willing the bleeding to stop in vain. The liquid continued to flow.

It really had been her that sat across from him and confessed her love for him in tears. And what was his response? Gutting her like the monster everyone had warned her he was. He had messed up. It wasn't my fault, he told himself. She has no pulse. Her appearance was different. I could feel foreign magic about her. But then that led to the conclusion that he was able to be tricked by the power of lesser beings, and he found himself back at square one.

Enough. She will not die. She belongs to me. Her love for me is unconditional.

And when she wakes again, I will put an end to this chaos.

The wet sand crunched under his heavy boots. The dim starlight illuminated the surface of the ocean faintly before them. He would be able to seek the witch out with his abilities, but that would take time. He wasn't even sure what to look for, asides from a power with the same characteristics as the enchantment that Dynamene had. Time was fighting against him; a precious resource dripping through his grip like her blood onto the sand.

Without prelude, a sudden burst of light the size of a woman appeared in the shallow waves before Poseidon. The light dispersed gently in twinkles and stars, revealing the form of a woman. A faint heavenly glow emanated from her pale skin.

Aphrodite stared at him, her flawless face unusually somber. "Poseidon."

He narrowed his eyes. This was an unexpected development, and not a welcome one. "What the hell do you want? I'm short on time, if you haven't noticed."

She tilted her head, gaze flickering towards the still girl in his hold. "I know where you may find the witch you seek. If I have your guarantee that you won't harm me, I'll tell you."

Poseidon hissed, his clasp on Dynamene tightening. "Of course you would've had a hand in this. Meddling shrew. I should have known. Can  none of you Olympian cretins keep to your own business?" So you were the one to guide Dynamene to that witch. Selfish, narcissistic bitch. How else would you know where to find her?

"Your guarantee, Poseidon," Aphrodite pressed.

He grit his teeth. As much as he longed to rip her head from her body and watch her golden locks stream through the air, he needed her knowledge. "Fine."

Aphrodite stepped closer.

---

Miles away, deep in her underground lair, the witch sat at her table alone. She was aware of her impending fate. Her actions could only lead to this outcome. But she'd accomplished what she'd set out to do, so she was content.

Before her, pulsing gently with a sea-blue light, was a floating orb of liquid. The Nereid's heart. She was the only person to ever see one; perhaps it would remain that way even long after her death. It was a fascinating sight. The mass continued to live in its own way, even apart from its owner. Nereids truly were interesting creatures. She might've studied it, but there was no point now. Her journey was coming to an end.

She had no regrets. Her revenge was now sealed. Hera or Poseidon, it hadn't really mattered which. Fate had truly smiled on her the day before when that little nymph had appeared at her doorstep. So unexpected, but so welcome. She had waited centuries, honing her gifts in the dark, practicing them on others, so that she would be ready for this moment. The witch was not foolish enough to think she would be able to pull one over on both of the gods. Hera would've been best, but Poseidon would do just as well. He was partially to blame for her misfortune too. Now he would suffer, and she could die content.

It was a shame about the Nereid, though. Just a silly child chasing an impossible dream. The witch clicked her tongue sympathetically. Weren't we all, once?

A shudder echoed through the cave, and she heard the water at the entrance slosh with an unseen force. He was nearly here, and she stood patiently next to the table, awaiting his arrival.

Without any further warning, the water erupted upwards like a geyser. The sound was deafening, but the witch didn't even blink. Poseidon emerged from the upsurge, water dripping from his bangs before his enraged eyes. In his arms was the nymph; poor young Dynamene. She was deathly pale and had a ragged bandage wrapped about her chest. The witch tutted.

"Witch. You have something that belongs to me." Poseidon's eyes gleamed like a laser in the dim cavern, his chest heaving with barely-restrained wrath.

"It's here, Poseidon." The witch set her hand next to the shimmering orb. "The Nereid's heart. You won't have much use for it, though. I see she's already on death's door. Returning her heart will do no good. Replacing an organ is no help when the body is already shutting down."

"You will return it immediately. I will not repeat myself." Poseidon's trident materialized in his free hand as he shifted Dynamene into the opposite arm.

"Oh? Is there finally something the mighty sea tyrant cannot do?" The witch asked, feigning surprise. "Pathetic." Her tone flattened.

"Your enchantment," Poseidon stormed on. "What did you do to her?"

"I gave her what she desired. A chance to be with you. Oh, she just adores you. I'm sure that will have changed, though. Those wounds bleeding through the wrap look an awful lot like trident punctures to me. Weren't able to tell she was the real thing without that heartbeat to listen to, were you?"

Poseidon's eyes grew even wider as he realized the witch's plot. "You planned this."

"I did." The witch shuffled back around the table, gently taking Dynamene's heart into her hands. "Do you remember when we met, Poseidon? It was at some gathering of the gods, say, three or four hundred years ago."

Poseidon's face clenched further with anger at her idling, losing his patience rapidly. "I've never met a hag like you in my life."

"I wasn't like this when we met." The witch brought her hand to her white cheek with a wistful look. "I was beautiful. I came from a wealthy and powerful family with demigod blood. Hera made a deal with me, you see. If I successfully seduced you, she would shower me with blessings and gifts on our wedding day. She told me everything about you to give me a leg up. Even about your ability to hear certain heartbeats." Her hand dropped away. "But I failed, as I was guaranteed to, and she was thoroughly upset. I was turned into this. So here I've lived, all these years, cast away from society into these deep trenches, waiting.... for her." The witch smiled at Dynamene. "The perfect opportunity. Heaven sent, even." She sighed. "It's a shame. She's still so young, but..." The witch shrugged. "Cracking an egg, omelets, all that. Just someone caught in the peripheral."

"Enough with your monologuing, you insolent bitch!" The muscles on Poseidon's arm grew more defined and taut as he aimed his trident at her. His face was contorted with murderous intent. "Heal Dynamene, now!"

"I can't. What reason did I ever have to learn healing magic?" There was no regret in her milky eyes as she shrugged once more. "And even if I was knowledgeable in medicine, it would be no use. Nereids are so rare. Only fifty, as you know. Their anatomy is a mystery."

Poseidon's gaze sank down to Dynamene. Her breathes were many seconds apart now. There was no more time to waste. He held her more firmly against him and lowered his stance to steady his aim at the witch. "Then die now."

"Gladly. I knew this would be the price to pay for my revenge. For breaking the sea god's nonexistent heart. And to think that it was as easy as this." The witch broke into a laugh that grew until it boomed off the cavern's walls.

Without further ado, Poseidon rushed her.

And with a single swing, the witch's head left her body. The pale thing rolled until it hit up against the wall, still laughing. Her eyes rotated to look back at him with their blank gaze. "Don't worry, my lord. There's still forty-nine left, after all."

Without another word, the witch's voice died off and her face stilled.

Poseidon strode over to it and brought his boot down violently. The witch's skull shattered under his heel. He resisted the urge to continue stomping until nothing solid remained. Dynamene needed his focus now; he could vent his rage later. He wiped the sole of his boot off on the rug and carried her back to the entrance of the cavern.

Lying her next to the rippling pool, he retrieved her heart from where it continued to glow, unbothered, upon the table. It felt like cool gel in his hands with a definite pulse, one that was all too familiar to him. He returned to kneel beside her and, propping her back up with one arm, he undid the makeshift bandage.

Her body was nearly hollow where he had gored her. His lips parted in disbelief. Before his eyes, her flesh was turning to liquid that ran onto the cavern's rocky floor. Poseidon quickly pressed her heart into the hollow. It shimmered for a moment, the liquid solidifying and connecting with the open edges of her body, before its light sputtered out and the pulse stopped. Just like the rest of her, it started to melt away.

Poseidon swallowed hard now, his face stiff. It was time to face the gravity of the situation. Dynamene would not be waking up.

He turned his face away for a moment, unable to look at the wounds he had made on her slight body. She had trusted him. She had clung to his side despite the warnings of everyone else. And like a sick joke, their predictions had come true. Gutted just like Adamas, a voice whispered in the back of his head. He bit his lower lip until it bled. How was it that the mighty sea god, capable of stopping tsunamis and commanding schools of fish, was unable to save one girl?

This shouldn't be happening, his mind spun. This isn't happening. She can't die. I can save her.

No, I can't. I'm the one who killed her.

His throat was growing tight, an alien sensation. She can't die. She belongs with me. A thousand years spent living in the same palace flickered through his mind. From a shy little girl to a headstrong, passionate young woman, he had watched her life; he had watched as her world began to revolve around him without his meaning for it to. And without his permission, his world began to be colored by her as well. Perhaps it had been inevitable. She belongs with me. I don't want her to leave.

He held her closer to him, caressing her damp cheek with careful fingers. The silence that rung from her body made the stillness around them all the heavier. Her face was growing sunken, her cheeks almost gaunt. He wanted to see her eyes just one more time; wide pools of steel gray that reflected him amongst the stars in their depths, as if he was the only thing that mattered. Stay with me.

And as her body released its final breath, he slowly leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

---

Author’s Notes: Sergei Prokofiev's Romeo Bids Juliet Farewell piece is so beautifully done. The first half sounds so remorseful.

I realized that, writing this chapter in particular, Poseidon seems less like canon RoR Poseidon. I was irritated about that at first, but then I realized that he's different because this story requires him to go through character development. That's important for a love interest. I'm not as frustrated anymore lol

[subscorpsupremacy]

Fire and Ice    

Chapter 1: You Will Scream

Sunlight filtered down the serene bamboo forest. Somewhere in the distance, a bird called out to its mate faintly, and even fainter, its wings flapped into the distance. If tranquility were to have meaning, it would be this. A lone figure clad in yellow and black hood stood in the middle of the forest. Silver armor that adorned it glinted under the soft daylight. It was as still as could be and not even its breathing made any sound. Then, swiftly, a glint of steel, and a bamboo pole split along its length, cut cleanly in two. The bamboo halves fell on the ground with a dull thud. A blur of yellow made its way across the forest floor and in its wake, bamboos started falling.

A few moments later, a group of people dressed in black with yellow bands or masks followed the falling bamboo. They appeared to be following the yellow figure, and failing spectacularly. All they were catching were the falling bamboo, and the elusive target was extending its distance by the second.

The group desperately tried to speed up until finally they seem to have caught their target in a clearing. At least that was what they thought, for apparently the figure appeared to have stood still and waited for them.

"Your instructions were to catch the bamboo before they even reach the ground. How could you hope to track me if you couldn't catch up at all?"

The group bowed their heads in shame. "Apologies, Grandmaster."

"I do not wish to resort to harsh measures, but I am very unhappy with your lack of progress. You have until next week to show me some progress. Dismissed."

Hanzo scowled as his students took their leave. They did not dare talk back to him, but he could hear them muttering in the distance as they ran farther. He was lost in thought on how he could hone his students so much so that he did not notice a flash of sunlight reflected from a throwing knife until it was mere inches from him. It was too late to deflect. The ninja vanished in a flash of flame and reappeared amongst the bamboo. He barely just materialized when again knives flew at his direction, as if anticipating him. Hanzo rolled over and was forced back into the clearing. His assailant seems to be familiar with the his evasive tactics.

Hanzo's eyes darted left and right as he tried to scan his surroundings, trying to assess the situation and determine where his attacker might be. Very few would dare to take on the Shirai Ryu Grandmaster in his own territory, and even fewer would be able to land such close calls.

From behind him the air protested as it was split by more daggers cutting their path towards the ninja. He was able to deflect the first dozen of them but a stray one almost hit his left foot. Hanzo was forced to reposition, and this cost him his balance, and his attempt to deflect the last dagger instead disarmed his katana.

Wasting no time, he drew out his rope spear. Hanzo gritted his teeth. He was getting annoyed at his assailant. Earthrealm has been quiet for a few years now, and there has been no alerts sent out by the Special Forces or the Lin Kuei of any new threats.

Hanzo quickly drew a map of the bamboo forest in his mind. He knew that his assailant would have to be within the forest as well, and judging by the angles the weapons were coming from, whoever threw them would have to be very quick as well. In fact, quick enough to match his movement. Hanzo decided he had no choice but to scout his attacker by quickly hellporting across the forest. Bursts of flame and cinder littered the forest as the ninja scanned the area, trying to locate his opponent. At last he found his attacker covered in black darting around the forest clearing. Before Hanzo could attack, a dagger flew in front of him. It came from another direction.

"Two assassins?" Hanzo thought. That was troubling. The assassin he spotted picked up speed and vanished.

Hanzo flung his spear into the direction where the dagger came from and pulled it back as soon as the rope became taut. The spear dragged with it what looked like another assassin dressed in black, except, it began to crumble as it flew through the air. Hanzo retrieved his spear completely empty. Whatever it was that got caught by the spear completely disintegrated in mid-air.

Hanzo landed on the forest floor and before he could jump or hellport, there was a flash of faint blue light and he found himself unable to move. His spear fell limp and hung just a few inches from the ground.

A pair of feet landed softly from behind and Hanzo thought he heard fabric being unfurled and thrown to the ground.

Hanzo was prepared to burst into flames but before he could muster the strength, he felt a hand grab the knot of his hair, pull it back briefly only to bash his head forward. Hanzo hit something solid and he was dazed from the impact. His vision was blurred and he could not figure out what kept him immobile. He felt another hand around his waist, reaching around for the belt that kept his blades in place. The groping hand seemed satisfied that the katana was already disarmed, so it went for the wakizashi instead. The shorter blade was removed from Hanzo's belt and was thrown into the ground several feet away.

The hand on the back of Hanzo's head relaxed and withdrew just a little and then combed aggressively through his hair and pulled, forcing Hanzo's head back up.

Hanzo could hear soft breathing from his right ear as the assailant drew closer.

"Are you burning out?" a familiar deep voice asked.

Cold air wafted against Hanzo's skin as his pants were forcibly taken down. And fingers that felt familiar, fingers that usually gripped his thighs, clawed his back, and grasped his cock, were instead pushing themselves inside Hanzo's exposed hole. The Shirai Ryu grunted as he was penetrated and stretched by the invading fingers he knew very well. His heart raced as he quickly tried to detect if any of his students went back because of the commotion. At that time he was thankful his students' perception were not up to par, for they would have seen their grandmaster caught and being loosened by an old sworn enemy. And as the Shirai Ryu grandmaster uttered a small sigh of relief at the absence of his students, his hole stretched open as it was penetrated by an impressive manhood that was uncommonly warm for its owner. As the cock pierced through the ring of muscle, Hanzo's ass seemed to welcome it and pulled it in smoothly, until it was completely plugged by the base of the shaft, and balls gently touched the entrance of his hole. The cock's girth imposed steady pressure inside Hanzo, and it was a comfortable combination of pleasure and pain.

"I hope you understand the stakes of the game you are trying to play, Sub-Zero," Hanzo grunted as the Lin Kuei Grandmaster rocked his hips in a circular motion, sweeping Hanzo's insides and probing for the sweet spot.

Hanzo let out an embarassing moan, one that is usually heard from Kuai, as the probing cock pressed against the ninja's prostate.

Kuai chuckled. "You will scream."

Kuai pushed Hanzo's head back a bit more and started to rock his hips ever so slightly, tortorously slow and deliberately steady. And yet its effect on Hanzo was profound, as it forced him to really feel the stimulation of his spot and the stretching of hole. Hanzo bit his lip. A drop of sweat slid from his forehead down to his nose. Sub-Zero's calculated cool approach had the Shirai Ryu curling his toes with only the first few gyration of hips.

Kuai thrusted in again at a glacial pace, and Hanzo could only respond with a drawn out moan.

"Damn you, Kuai," Hanzo cursed. Kuai should be under the ninja's mercy, and not the other way around. Kuai pulled back very slowly again, not heeding Hanzo's protest. "Fuuuuuck..." Hanzo said but his voice trailed and his body shuddered.

Kuai kept his firm grip on Hanzo and slid in slowly again, Hanzo's hole stretching and closing, feeling the angry tip and every engorged vein along Kuai's shaft until once again it is plugged by the base.

"Fuck you, Kuai," Hanzo said, his eyes rolling up uncontrollably.

"I think you'll find I'm the one fucking you, Hanzo," Kuai whispered very softly to Kuai's ear, just before licking it purposefully slow. Hanzo's erection grew stiffer. The Lin Kuei pulled himself out yet again, stopping just before the tip slides out completely. "Surely the esteemed Shirai Ryu Grandmaster can easily free himself..." Kuai removed his grip on Hanzo's hair and held both hips instead. Hanzo braced himself for another slow and steady thrust.

Still hovering beside Hanzo's ear, Kuai's mouth curled into a wide grin. "..but he won't." And in Kuai thrusted suddenly, hitting Hanzo's vulnerable spot with deadly precision.

-to be continued

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