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simpjaes · 9 months ago

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ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS PT.1 (P.SH)

Moving to a city with wild nights and charming days felt like the perfect choice in your head upon finishing college. Hours away from home, you accept a job at a local museum ironically placed dead between a large historic cathedral and a booming gothic nightclub. You were meant to curate the art, not be curated yourself by a local priest who found you with buckled knees outside of said goth club. ― part two here!! | MINORS DNI

PAIRING ― vampire park sunghoon x afab reader

WORDCOUNT ― 20.4k

CONTENT ― modern vampire sunghoon, cathedral/chapel settings, blasphemous behavior, false holy facades, the main vampire trope i use is the act of drinking blood, luring, and living forever, heavy manipulation and toxic behaviors, mentions of reader being alt/goth

SIDE CHARACTERS― jungwon as your very very best friend who has an installation at the museum (you guys are attached at the hip), jay as the hot bisexual bartender at the goth club, some goth guy named balor

!WARNINGS! ― dubious consent (due to the act of mind manipulation), hunting and playing victim, a lot of blood: blood sucking, wounds/puncturing, menstruation in a sexual light, manipulation, near-death experiences, fainting, talk of death, acts of mind control/luring

NOTE ― here is part one of the first vampire fic i've ever felt compelled to write in my life. shout out to me, myself, and i for being entirely deranged and coming up with on a whim based on a song a lovely anon sent to me. this is semi-proof read, and does require two parts to get the full story.

tags under cut

smut tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic] ― big meat sunghoon, biting, A LOT OF BLOOD, sucking and drinking of blood obv, pussy eating (once while reader is menstruating, and another time where she isn’t), deep penetration, rough sex, unprotected sex bc like…he’s dead so lmfao, missionary, scratching, dirty talk, body worship, praise, jungwon is involved in a bit of an erotic situation but there is not smut involving him,

other tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic]― depictions of death, anti-religious language, the act of dying including intense descriptions of the feeling, mentions of pimping and human trafficking, corrupt government, dead nuns, funerals

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Upon moving to this city, all you have in your mind is the future. Of what could possibly come of you here? The museum is truly beautiful, propped in the center of the historic district, a mere ten or so blocks from your newly renovated apartment.

Years worth of study has led you here and honestly you’re sure you never would have found this city as lovable as it is if it weren’t for those credit hours you poured into art history and architecture. Truly, you feel at home here. Especially working within the historic district at that beautiful museum.

The rest of the city is quite modern. A bit boring to look at if you’re being honest but, thankfully, your place of work offers much for the eye to devour. The museum itself is quite victorian, with rococo styling throughout. Many could call this an eye sore, but you find yourself loving every inch of the place. You feel like a willow wisp in the clutches of that museum, and honestly you’re more than excited to grow bored of seeing such beauty on a day to day basis.

Across the street sits another old building, also victorian in style. The large and tacky sign glowing with neon lights that reads “AFTER LIFE” goes to show that it’s very clearly a club. And the attire of those who go to and fro through the doors only further proves that it’s more than just that. It’s a goth club.

Which, arguably, high-school you would’ve died to be able to attend. Thankfully, that little goth girl inside of you still lives strong and surely the club will be a place you’ll frequent during your free time. It’s not too hard to dress the part considering you are an art loser. The majority of your clothing consists of black, colored hair, and wild make up anyway. All you gotta do is forego the ratty coveralls or the typical business quirky you go for at work and you’re good to go.

Last but not least regarding the charm of the historic district, your favorite site. One that is so profound to you and likely everyone else who visits this town mostly because, well, there isn’t much mention of it on any website regarding the city. In fact, you weren’t aware that such a place existed here until the day you came to view your apartment for the first time.

Seeing it loom from the apartment window very nearly had you sign the lease without so much as looking at the cabinet space or the bathroom setup.

No, nothing in that historic district, absolutely nothing in this city, rivals that of the cathedral that towers above both the club and museum.

There, parked just three blocks down from your place of work, sits the cathedral. Clearly old but well maintained, you can just tell that the building has seen more than enough through the passing decades. The arches are pointed and towering, and the flying buttresses only further your heart to beat with love and admiration for what men could build at one point in time.

You’ll never understand why the preferred style these days consists of primary shapes, anyway. Boxes, cones, spheres. Never twisting hallways or nooks and crannies to hide in. You miss the depth of which buildings used to be. Inside practically a maze, outside a wondrous presentation of knife-sharp features. So intricate, so many lines to trace.

What a shame to find yourself living in a space that’s a mish-mash of perfect boxes, but it’s not so bad when the window offers a daydream, at least.

You’re in love each time you gaze upon the building, actually. It’s a forever reminder that no human being on this earth could make you feel such excitement. Perhaps you’re just a nerd for gothic architecture though. Honestly, it’s a shame that this cathedral seems to be a forgotten gem despite how it’s blatantly visible at almost any view point in the city.

Fortunately for you, this only goes to show that the historic district is just that. There for those who admire, and not for those who gawk. There seems to be rarely any stray humans making their way down this street without at least an inkling of interest in the ancient life that’s been breathed here.

If anything, the streets are filled with what you can assume to be open-minded individuals. Your first day at work showed that much. Tattooed bodies, pierced faces, wild hair, even wilder attire. Yes, you feel right at home.

And despite the excitement of living in a new city where you seem to fit like a puzzle piece, life can still grow boring after a certain amount of time has passed. For you, it’s taken about three weeks of training, well-slept nights, and cozy days.

Even through the summer, the nights still have a chill in the air. Which is nice but even your night-time walks have become an auto-pilot task that offers nothing new to your forever hungry brain. So, with the weekend fast approaching, you figure there’s no better time than now to dust off those hot platform boots you bought on a whim years ago and have yet to wear.

You’re going to the booming “after life”.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Well.

“After life” is certainly a perfect name for the club if the intensity of the drinks alone is anything to go by. Inside is adorned with stark black walls and silver trim, loads upon loads of purple and red curtains, women and men near-nude wrapped in straps and chains.

It only took two drinks to see the black painted walls as a beautiful void in space with wonderful dancing bodies falling into it. You can’t stop smiling through the warmth in your cheeks and dancing to deep bass with husky voiced music. Your arms stay in the air as you dance, and you welcome any dancing partner up until your third drink.

God, the drinks are strong. Or perhaps it’s just the specific drink you’ve grown partial to. One they call “Red Death”, which according to the handsome bartender, was quite popular in the 90s. You see exactly why it was so popular, considering it basically hit you like a fucking truck in the middle of this club and has you stumbling out the front door without so much as remembering why your feet are moving in the first place.

Unsure of how much time has passed since you got here, you nearly forget the extra five inches under your feet as you stumble your way through the heavy doors in front of the club. A kind bouncer with the whites of his eyes tattooed helps you with your balance as you step out, chuckling and noting that you’re definitely new here.

His strong hold on you is kind and gentle compared to the bouncers outside of the clubs back home, and despite how drunk you are, you still feel as safe as you do inside of your own apartment when he gives you a small “woah there.”

Thankfully, he keeps to himself after helping you regain balance, once again unlike most bouncers at clubs. You’re left to your own drunken plans now as you wobble around the building in search of a bench to sit on and sober up. Thankfully, that very bench is found sitting lonely on the backside of the building. You can still hear the muffled music from inside, but you’re currently spinning and able to hear just about anything, you think.

You hear your ass thump to the ground when you try to take a seat, missing the bench completely and falling a full two feet with your head hitting the bricked wall behind you.

Honestly, all you can do is laugh at yourself as you hold your head. The fall didn’t hurt, and thank fuck no one is around to have witnessed that from you. To think your senses are enhanced at this moment is quite a feat, considering you were so focused on hearing everything that you completely forgot to determine which of the two benches in your drunken vision was the real one.

And as you accept your seat on the ground as the space you’ll sober up in, your senses prove yet again to at least be slightly more amplified than usual.

A heavy scent of cinnamon wafts through your nose as you breathe in the brisk summer air and immediately you try to adjust your eyes to whatever the scent is coming from. Or, whoever.

Then, a cold hand on your shoulder. You didn’t even see him before smelling or feeling him, but somehow, your vision adjusts immediately as if you’re not drunk at all.

In fact, looking at the man is entirely sobering.

“Child, temptation has you by the throat.”

“I’m no child.” You scoff at the voice reaching your ears, frustrated as you try to chase the fizzling drunk feeling. A waste of money, you could say, to lose the dizzy feeling so fucking fast.

The man stands in front of you, clad in black, offering a gentle smile.

You can imagine you look a mess, sitting on the ground outside of a night club, but that should be expected you’d think.

“It’s a figure of speech.” The man shrugs with a chuckle. “Now, now. Allow me to help you, my dear, you are in no shape to be left to your own devices.”

You look up at him, noting that the man appears to be a priest. What kind of priest wanders around goth clubs this time of the night?

Then again, you don’t even know what time it is. What you do know is that you’re nearly entirely sober now for some fucking reason, and you absolutely can be left to your own devices.

“No, I’m fine. I don’t live too far.” You shake your head at him, but he pulls you up anyway.

Oh, a rush of woozy nausea. Your ankles buckle immediately upon trying to stand and the man simply keeps his smile aimed at you.

“My conscience will not allow me to leave you be.” He says, taking your arm and leading you further down the street.

You’re unsure as to why you don’t fight him on it now. There’s a feeling in your body that tells you to go with him, and who are you to fight it?

Strangely enough, your eyes sparkle as he leads you straight to that very cathedral that floods your thoughts on most weekdays during work. So big, so beautiful, so otherworldly to see so closely.

You stare up at the towering building even as he helps you through the doors, and then your eyes immediately adjust to the vaulted ceilings and darkened stained glass windows with only the moonlight shining through.

God, it’s more beautiful inside.

You’re entirely mesmerized by the building, blinking up at every inch of the walls and ceiling. It’s pristine inside compared to the outside, and the floors shine so beautifully even in the low-light. Your boots stomp with each step against the well-maintained floors, to the point you can feel the vibrations running from your toes to the top of your head.

You can feel your skin tighten at the viewing experience, every hair on your body raising in euphoria, pupils growing wide and dark. You smile, feeling your face flush as if you’ve got a man between your legs. There is no man though though, no. Just big arches and echoed footsteps.

It’s simply too beautiful to comprehend with a semi-drunken brain for the first time.

The man saunters through the building with you in tow a bit too quickly than you’d prefer though. You try to soak in the image of the main chapel before he leads you away from it, and thankfully you caught a decent look at the gold and silver adornments surrounding a centered altar. The figure within the altar didn’t quite get more than a glance, but you could have sworn it was no religious figure that you know the name of.

And then, within three blinks, you’re in a corridor where whispering nuns look on. Their voices sound high-pitched even in a whisper but it slows your heart rate down to that of near sleep. Drowsiness overtakes you as you blink out of sync, barely able to comprehend that you should be at home rather than in this wondrous and magnificent building with a strange priest.

Still, even as the corridor grows less and less extravagant, where the stomping of your boots on the floor turns to that of breaking up dust and weighing down creaking wood, you find it all the more beautiful behind your heavy-lidded eyes.

The deeper into the cathedral you go, the older it becomes. Where electricity turns to candles, and then candles turn to pure moonlight shining through stained glass windows.

Even up the spiraling concrete stairs, you feel your feet carry you more than the priest with his back turned to you. He wouldn’t need to lead you through this building at all, as the feeling in your gut would likely have you explore the place inch by inch if you were given the permission.

Still, even while your mind is sober but your body is drunk, you find it hard to believe that people still reside here. Never once seeing anyone come from the cathedral since being in this city. And trust, you have honestly stared at it day after day during work.

That means nothing to you now though, considering you’re inside the building, being led to a small room for sleep where your sleepy eyes devour the small bed against the wall.

The man who led you here lends no more words or thoughts to you as he steps inside, presents the room to you, and then quickly leaves with that same smile he gave you outside of the club.

A nun replaces him with light and silent footsteps, running past you to fluff the flattened pillow on the bed. Another came in behind her with a small bowl of crackers and a glass of water. She holds out the bowl and glass, urging you to take them from her.

Naturally, you do. Popping a cracker into your mouth and instantly feeling it soak up any saliva in your mouth, leaving it feeling dry and sore before you sip the water. And with a nod from the two nuns, they leave you be.

This room appears to be that for refuge, surely for those the church takes in when they’re in need of a warm bed and some food.

You smile, saying nothing as you sit down on the bed and place the glass and bowl on the small ledge by the window. There, you take off your boots and flop back without so much as sinking under the thin covers, and you fall asleep as if there’s nowhere else on this earth you’d rather be.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The sun feels warm against your face when you stir from your slumber. Your eyes feel heavy though, so you simply lay here and breathe in the strange heavy air. Your eyebrows furrow at the feeling of the bed beneath you. Stiff, hard, uncomfortable. Clearly, you’re not at home.

And, well, that’s when the happenings of last night dawn on you. You can barely comprehend what the helpful priest looked like, better yet how long it took for your feet to carry you to this room.

When you open your eyes and squint to look out of the stained window, most of the city is distorted through the tinted colors, but you can tell that you’re quite high up in the building. Then again, the throbbing in your feet could have probably told you that.

Still, sitting in this bed now feels much more uncomfortable than it did when you initially laid down. Your head pounds as you pinch the bridge of your nose, squinting around the room and trying to grasp your memory.

The only thing you remember is the cold hand that guided you here and every beautiful inch of the cathedral. Which can only mean, you have no fucking idea how to get out of here.

Oh, the horror and embarrassment of needing to search for someone to help you leave feels unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Surely, if you’re silent with your feet, you can search the halls until you manage to find a back door, right? At least the route would be scenic and interesting if you can manage it.

And, well, you do try. Searching for a staircase the moment you leave your room simply because you know that the only way home is down at least a hundred steps. Strangely enough, your instincts seem to know exactly where to go.

Somehow.

Your socked feet carry you straight downstairs and to the main cathedral. You weren’t necessarily expecting to find a room full of people upon entering the space either. After all, if it were Sunday perhaps you’d have to drag your hungover ass past a crowd participating in Sunday mass.

Despite never seeing a soul enter this cathedral save for yourself and that priest.

Weird, there are a few people with bowed heads sitting in the pews of the main chapel. All appear to be clad in black and gold, one or two others with silver. Not entirely cloaked but still incredibly eerie from behind as you look on with each silent foot step.

And suddenly, your body freezes.

There, at the center of the altar stands a stoic man. Posture so straight you could argue he is nothing but an ancient statue. Behind him, you note that there is an actual statue of a figure standing much the same, far too distant to make out the face of.

Only for a moment do you recall glancing at the statue from the night before, noting how it resembled no god nor deity that you’re aware of. It doesn’t even resemble a human the longer you stare at it, actually.

Ah. Yes. The vibes in this cathedral are off. From your feet somehow knowing the place as if it’s your own home to the silent chapel bowing their heads to an even more silent man standing frozen in the center. If at all, you feel like you’ve been caught in a photo, stuck with your feet on this single tile with the front doors just out of your reach.

That is, until one of those whispering nuns makes her way to you, tapping your shoulder with a nod and a very quiet, “Shall I see you out?”

And she does, opening the large doors for you and closing them behind you without so much as a sound.

Strange, because you remember the echo of those doors closing from the night before. But whatever, you guess, as you’re assaulted with the bright afternoon sun forcing your eyes to tear up.

You take a step through the flash-bang of summer air, slowly adjusting your eyesight to the very museum you work at. Bustling with your co-workers who are made to work this weekend, you try to avoid being seen. After all, as a new employee, the last thing you need is to be perceived as a hungover mess while walking out of that weird fucking cathedral with nothing more than socked feet and a pair of stompers held against your chest.

And so, you make the short trek home, thankful for the walkable city but entirely unthankful for the charming weather your realtor promised for this time of the year. It’s fresher than you’d like for it to be outside today, the warm sun keeping you at a perfect temperature while the cold breeze offers a shiver here and there.

You’re not sure why it pisses you off. It’s probably the headache that only pounds harder and harder with each step you take.

Finally, you make it to your apartment. You feel cold when you step inside the lobby and make your way up. Somehow you feel even colder when find yourself at the window, gazing at the same cathedral you just spent the night in, looking hazy in the afternoon sun.

It looms there in the city, with its elder rooted walls and pointed arches. Still so beautiful, still so mysterious, still so fucking luring.

Even after sleeping there, and even after you felt the vibrations inside skew your comfort, it stands out not only in the city, but in your brain. With the modern city only forcing it to stick out like a sore thumb, you can argue that the city could be just as old and still that cathedral would offer a shiver down your spine.

Your head pulses at the sunlight shining through your window, forcing your eyes from the darkened haunt, and you’re quick to make your way to the kitchen to rummage for something to help with the headache.

And by the time you flop down on your couch, you drift back to sleep, realizing that you’re not entirely sure if you slept at all the night before. Despite waking up, despite not remembering a thing from after you laid down, and despite feeling rejuvenated in every aspect aside from sleep.

That rejuvenation strangely drains you more as you drift to sleep, finding it so unnatural that you willingly slept in a maze filled with no face you can put a name to.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Making your first friend feels good. Weeks worth of pretending and hoping you and your co-workers would somehow become besties outside of the museum walls fell short, after all. Not that you don’t consider them friends, it’s more so just the fact that they’re all a bit too stoic and up-tight for you.

You’re quite a bit younger as well. You can tell that they lost their spark for creating art years ago, if they ever even created it in the first place, anyway. It’s all just curating, curating, curating for them. An eye for beauty only, which is respected and appreciated but still, no eye for fun outside of these walls though.

That’s where Jungwon comes in. A young artist with first-installation jitters dimpling his cheeks as he offers the smallest “hello” that you think you’ve ever heard from another person.

He’s similar to you in the way he dresses. He works hard, amazing you with each piece of his collection that’s pulled from a tightly packed box, filled with bubble wrap and slammed with “FRAGILE” stickers.

Arguably, you don’t need to be friends with your co-workers when you have artists like him coming in and out every few months. He’s quite lively, very excited, and almost clumsy in the way he carries himself.

You were endeared with him the moment you met him and honestly just three days in, the two of you are practically attached at the hip as you push and work hard alongside him to set up the installation as perfectly as possible for the following weekend.

And, well, the first showing went off without a hitch. His smiling face could have been seen for miles, you think, as you watch him mingle and blush at each compliment and critique of his work.

So bright.

So full of life.

The exact person you’d want to be around.

“Jungwon–” You elbow him in the side as he nods and shakes hands through each farewell while the museum comes to its close for the night. “It’s Friday.” You smile.

He nods you off, paying close attention to each face that came to visit his work. And only when the halls are empty does he make his way back to you with a deep exhale and a loud, relieved groan.

“Finally.” He huffs, blowing a strand of his hair up and into the air. “Just fifty nine more days to go.”

You roll your eyes fondly at him already counting down until the two of you are scheduled to take down his work.

“You do know you only need to be here for opening night, right?” You laugh.

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs. “But it’s my first installation, I worry some kid will come wipe his snotty nose all over my hard work.”

You chuckle, he chuckles, and then you turn to face him.

“So, it’s Friday.”

He bounces on his feet.

“Yeah, glad to see you seem to grasp the idea of fleeting time and whatnot.” He looks at you with a mischievous smile. “What about it?”

“We should go out. The club across the street has really strong drinks for half the price as most places.”

You watch as Jungwon’s eyes shine when they flick behind you to glance out the window. Then his face falls, his eyebrow raises, and he tilts his head.

“You do realize we’ve been here for like, eighteen hours straight, right?”

You nod casually with a shrug.

“I live super close by, if we get tired, you can just crash on my couch.”

He pretends like he thinks it over for more than two seconds before ultimately accepting the offer of fun.

“Cool. Wanna meet me there in an hour? I should probably change and stuff first.”

You eye over his outfit, and then give yourself a quick glance.

“Good plan.” You smile, backing away and throwing your bag over your shoulder. “An hour. Be there.”

You both nod in agreement and go your separate ways. Sleepy, but entirely willing to celebrate Jungwon’s huge accomplishment with drinks that have already proven to be too strong.

The hour passes quickly, wearing that same pair of boots for a second time now that you have the perfect place and reason to stomp around in them. This time, you even go as far as darkening your lips and smearing your mascara just a smidge. After all, you’re definitely gonna get drunk and your makeup will be smeared by the end of the night regardless.

You gasp upon seeing Jungwon’s chosen attire, offering him an “Ooooh” the second you walk up to him. He had been leaning against the front doors of the museum, as if he’s simply an on looker and not a working artist with a top-notch showcase within those walls.

He lends you a matching “Ahhhh” upon seeing your chosen outfit. Both of you somehow match in a way that makes this appear more like a date night rather than friends getting drinks. Which is kind of cute and a welcomed idea if the two of you have one to many and accidentally start making out or something.

It feels platonic enough to laugh off in the morning, anyway. And really, while his boots don’t lend him extra height, he stomps around in them much like you do your own. With his black knit sweater littered in frays and pulled yarn, and his hair intentionally messed up.

“Wonnie,” You offer the nickname easily as you grab onto his arm and check the street for cars before beginning to cross. “I think some eyeliner could finish off your look.” You laugh as the two of you practically prance with heavy boots to the club.

He smiles at the nickname, hiding his face only slightly in his sweater when he blinks back at you with sparkly eyes.

“Really?” He smiles, dimples on full display for the tattooed bodies lined up outside, already checking out the artist.

“Yeah, oh–” You huff, digging in your small shoulder bag. “I have some, let’s do the finishing touch.”

And when the two of you stand at the back of the line, you do just that. Carefully holding his cheek in one hand and lining the lower lashes on his left eye.

He doesn’t even close his eyes, and instead looks up into the night sky with that same dimple showing. Blinking every few seconds at the sensitivity, ignoring the fact that his eyes start to prickle at the feeling.

“It tickles,” He chuckles in a hushed whisper, never having a friend be so close to his face like this before. “How do you manage to do this every day?”

“I guess you just get used to it after a while.” You focus on the way the darkened color brings his eye to seem more catty than it already was, taking your thumb and swiping the bottom lid to smear the charcoal makeup.

You note how innocent and shining his other eye looks compared. Nevertheless, you go to rest your hand on his other cheek now.

Just for a moment, his eyes flash down to look at you. So, so close to his face. Instantly, you lend him a pause and your own smile.

“You’re blushing.” You laugh, holding your hand steady in wait as he shifts his weight to the other leg out of natural nervousness.

“Sorry,” He whispers out, blinking frantically to prepare for his other eye to tickle. “I’m not used to being this close to someone.”

Ah, you don’t believe that for a second.

“Look up.” You instruct, already lining his other lashes. “Feels like I’m putting the finishing touches to a masterpiece.” You add in a lame chuckle, feeling a little flustered yourself the more you note how his eyes water at the tickle. They shine so pretty.

He laughs out at your comment, a hand shooting to your wrist as you smear the liner on him. Not to be intimate or anything, just simply to steady your hand more.

“I guess I am kinda the canvas like this, huh?” He comments, standing as still as he can while looking up at the moon. “Hey–”

“Hm?” You say, pulling your hand back now and doing the same with your thumb to smear the make up into perfection on his flawless little face.

“What kind of gum is that?” He asks, blinking a few times before adjusting his eyes properly and pretending like he can’t feel the waxy substance caked on his lashes.

“Just regular spearmint.” You give him a half smile. “Why, you want a piece?”

He nods, mostly because if he had known you were going to get this close to his face, he probably would have already had some type of candy in his mouth.

Again, it’s not like he has feelings or anything. It’s just, well, it’s always intimate to have someone so close to you. In your space. Your bubble. No one ever gets that close unless they want to kiss. Or, he guesses, if they’re putting eyeliner on you.

“You look really cute,” You comment now, stepping back after giving him a piece of gum and looking over how the smeared makeup really does complete his look. “Should’ve brought one of my chokers too. Now that, yeah.”

“Huh?” He tilts his head as the two of you move up the line. “You’re really into this kind of scene aren’t you?”

You nod shyly.

“Was a total mall goth back when I was a teenager. I would’ve stalked you around the mall if you looked like this back then, really. Totally my type.”

He lends a bashful blink and a half-hearted laugh, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking to the ground.

“Well, when I was a teenager I looked like the person who invented calculus.”

“And now you’re just a little work of art, huh?” You continue the cringey art-jokes, mostly because you like the way he tries to pretend they’re funny rather than utterly horrifying.

And he does smile at it, ears flowing with heat as he blushes. He probably wouldn’t feel so shy if it weren’t for the fact that he also heard compliments all day about his art. He’s a bit sensitive right now.

“I guess so.” He accepts your compliment like all the others, lifting his shoulder to his cheek with a squinted eye. It’s nice to feel like the world’s favorite person for a night, truly.

And the conversation is even easier from here on out. Albeit, a bit flirty but it stills platonic enough to where the two of you are just…in a comfortable little bubble surrounded by faces you don’t know. Perhaps playing the part of being two individuals who came to a club together rather than separately and alone.

As the hours pass, there are several strangers approaching the two of you. Words of “need a third?” and “well aren’t you two just fucking perfect?”

Jungwon basks in it, snickering quietly with you but never denying a single accusation. The two of you play along. Drinking, dancing, and then more drinking. Up until Jungwon decides he’s held his bladder long enough and is off in search of a bathroom while you make your way to the bar.

For more drinks, of course. Not to hit on the bartender you met the first time you came here.

“Another red death?” The man with inky red hair smiles at you, already grabbing a glass and starting your drink.

“Yes but, can I actually–” You pause, glancing at the other man behind the bar.

Red haired man laughs knowingly with a nod and a side eye before pointing silently at his co-worker and raising a brow at you.

You nod back, dipping your face only slightly when you see him take two steps back and whisper to the man.

Instantly, you feel a bit more shy over asking to be served by this guy but goddamn. His dark hair looks slightly damp when his eyes glance to you upon whatever is being whispered in his ear, probably from something spewing in his face after being shaken up, or perhaps from sweat.

You try to avoid eye contact under the man’s gaze when he walks over and in front of you. Sharp jaw, silver chain, loose black t-shirt revealing equally as damp collar bones.

God. The shirt is sticking to him.

“Babe, my eyes are up here.” He laughs, holding an empty cup and leaning on the bar towards you. “Had a little too much to drink again?”

You nod, dazed by his dark eyes before immediately shaking your head.

“Red death, please. Two of them.”

The man nods with a knowing smile.

“I saw that you came here with someone.”

He’s flirting. Mostly for tips but it’s not like he hasn’t been known to take people home from work before so, wherever it goes is where it goes for him.

“Jay, can you grab me the-” The red haired bartender says from behind, and Jay, presumably, hands him a bottle without so much as letting him finish the sentence.

“He’s cute.” Jay continues talking to you, enjoying the way you don’t realize how you fold in on yourself. “Any reason as to why you asked me to make your drink?”

“Um, oh,” You were gonna be bold, but you feel Jungwon suddenly clinging to you from behind, eyeing the bartender just like you are. “I just think you make them better.”

“Did he just say I’m cute?” Jungwon whispers behind your ear, watching the man’s hands as he makes the drinks with expert knowledge.

“You’re both cute.” The bartender smirks, looking between both of you and then offering a wink. “This round is on me.” He adds, sliding both cups forward and brushing your hand just for a moment before turning his attention to someone else.

Honestly, it’s like you and Jungwon are the same person at this moment when you grab your drinks and you turn to face each other.

Both of you, bouncing on your feet with whispered squeals over the hot bartender including both of you in the compliment.

“Oh my god.” You stare forward, tasting the drink and noting that there somehow seems to be more alcohol in this one. “He’s so–”

Jungwon nods to you excitedly, sipping his drink quickly before glancing behind you and meeting the eye of the bartender again.

“He was just looking at your ass.” He comments, flipping his body to cling to your arm and now turning his back to Jay “You think he’s gonna check mine out too?”

You nod with a snicker, the song changing and the tempo instantly drowning your thoughts.

“I love this song!” You shout with drunken glee, already making your way from the bar but keeping that little thought that hopefully, Jay will keep glancing at the two of you simply because it’s fun to be watched by a hottie.

And Jungwon just goes with your flow. Dancing with sticky sweet lips, eyes glazed over from the music and mood. His makeup looks more beautiful now paired with strands of his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen dimples so fucking deep before, and it’s almost painful to remember his face without that smile plastered on it.

“Wonnie,” You grab him by the shoulder and pull him against you, ignoring how his hair dips into your drink for a moment. “I think you’re my best friend.”

And the way he pulls back with a gasp, smiling wider? It shatters your heart just so it can grow larger.

“I am?” He does a little bounce through his dance move, eyes shining in the strobe lights, flashes of red and purple shading his cheeks, only deepening those dimples. “Really?”

Never have you enjoyed spending time with someone like this. Never without crushing hard, never without wanting to take them home and fuck them until you can’t walk. Jungwon is different though. He really does feel like a long lost best friend, like the part of you that has been missing for far too long.

The moment you met him, you clicked in a way that didn’t involve a dick or a hole. I mean, sure you’d probably fuck him for funsies but there’s really no point in it because you feel perfectly happy, perfectly fulfilled, just having him spend his free time with you.

Surely when he has to travel back home, you’re going to cry.

“Why do you have to live so far away?” You pause your dancing, making yourself sad at the thought that he will only be here for a few weeks. “Who am I gonna hang out with when you leave?”

Jungwon lends you a pouty sound, a coo, almost.

“I only live an hour away.” He laughs, leaning forward and plastering his sweaty forehead to yours with a slurred shout so you can hear him clearly. “I’ll come see you all the time!”

And with that, the mood seeps right back into your veins as the smile overtakes you.

You dance with him, forehead to forehead for a long, long, while. Up until the club is so crowded with people that Jay couldn’t possibly be paying attention to anything other than making drinks, and you couldn’t possibly pay attention to anything other than the music vibrating the alcohol in your stomach.

It’s almost suffocating, as you feel a pang in your chest of overheated anxiety. You breathe in, smelling the fifth piece of gum that Jungwon slipped from your pocket on his breath. You exhale, smelling your own sweet alcohol breath before pulling back and dragging Jungwon by the hand into the only corner not packed with people.

“You okay?” Jungwon slurs as he sways in front of you, eyes trying their best to seem concerned. “You look like you might get sick.”

You nod, feeling your mouth fill with warm saliva indicating that you should probably go to the bathroom now.

“Okay, lets get you to-”

You cut Jungwon off with an off balance sprint to the bathroom and somehow he keeps pace with you, gripping your shirt and refusing to lose you in the crowd.

Unfortunately, as you press on your stomach to somehow hold down whatever is trying to come up, you notice how there’s a very long line for the bathroom.

And it’s still suffocating in here.

And your mouth tastes too sweet. And the music is too loud.

“Let’s go outside!” Jungwon shouts against your ear, vibrating your brain as he navigates you through the crowd himself, pressing you up against the front doors of the club before pushing you outside with him close behind.

The waft of breezy summer air instantly fills your lungs and your stomach settles at the space you have to yourself now.

You stumble forward, making your way around the same concerned bouncer from before who only smiles at you and Jungwon struggling to find your footing.

And, like the best friend you knew he became, he tries his best to be the sober friend right now. His voice wavers and crackers when he speaks, but his hands are firm on both of your shoulders as he presses you against the wall behind you.

“Stay here.” Jungwon says with concern still in his voice. “I’m gonna run back in and get us some water, okay?”

And you nod in a daze as your eyes follow him when he disappears back inside. You note how he says something to the bouncer before opening the doors, and surely he simply asked that the guy keep an eye on you.

“You should probably eat something soon, sweetheart.” The kind bouncer comments to you in the night air, stepping closer to you and standing just against the wall next to you.

You feel protected by him, so there are no alarm bells ringing.

“You know I can’t let you back in, right?” He chuckles as he speaks to you calmly.

“Oh, I bet.” You laugh, breathing in the air again and again, still not regretting the fun you’ve had for the past few hours. “Just gonna sit here and wait for Wonnie, he’ll help me get home.”

“Good, good.” The bouncer confirms your words, still standing protective next to you when you hear the doors fly open and a few seconds of booming music before it’s muffled again.

Jungwon flops down in front of you on the sidewalk now, two water bottles in hand with a smile on his face.

“Jay gave me these.” He smiles. “He said if we can handle waiting til closing time he can drive us home.”

You laugh sheepishly. Unfortunately, you’re a bit too drunk and you know you probably wont make it another hour and a half with an additional however much time it’ll take for him to close up the club before needing to pass the fuck out.

“I think I’ll have to take him up on that next time.” You slur your words. “You’ll help me walk home right, Wonnie? It’s a short walk.”

Jungwon nods, still doing his best to act as sober as he can, but the bouncer shuts him down fast.

“Oh, I don’t think so buddy.” The bouncer laughs. “You’re both fucked out of your mind.”

You laugh, Jungwon laughs, and the bouncer throws in his own hearty sigh.

“Fuck–” You have a sudden, sober thought. “The tab. Jungwon, did we pay the tab?”

He pauses, eyes widening.

“Shit.” He explains before jumping up on unsteady feet. “Can you help her call for a ride?” He slurs out at the bouncer, only disappearing inside again when the kind goth nods at the request.

And as you sit here in the silence after the bouncer helps you order a ride, a few minutes pass. Your eyes are out of focus as you stare up into the night sky before closing them.

You could fall asleep right here on the sidewalk if you’re not careful.

Another few minutes pass, now a loud slam of the doors rings in your tired ears now and you jolt out of the drowsy state, opening your eyes thinking you’ll find Jungwon rushing to you but instead, you note how suddenly you’re entirely alone.

You don’t know how long you’ve sat here, or where the bouncer went, better yet why Jungwon isn’t back yet but what you do know is that suddenly, you’re mind is sober and fucking assaulted by the smell of cinnamon.

You glance around, trying to focus on the scent and where it’s coming from when– oh.

There, walking down the sidewalk is that fucking priest from before. Tall, clad yet again in black clothes, and he simply pauses his step in front of you.

“Again?” The man calls out to you with an amused voice, lending you his hand, but you don’t take it.

Instead, the doors suddenly fly open and Jungwon stumbles out again, nearly tripping over his own feet with an apology of “sorry, jay was trying to convince us to–”

“Uh, hi?” Jungwon interrupts himself as he takes note of the man standing in front of you. “The fuck are you?” He checks the man out, not quite able to focus on him in full.

The priest nods his head at both of you, staring Jungwon up and down before landing his eyes back on you.

“Get her home safe.” He says nothing else before continuing his nightly stroll.

And, well, you do get home safe.

You and Jungwon are a mess of limbs in the short ride to your apartment, and an even messier pile of idiots by the time you make it inside. The couch is long forgotten by the time you close your front door, feeling Jungwon follow you all the way to your plush bed with drunken groans and giggles.

There, you flop onto the bed fully clothed without so much as a happy “goodnight” and you’re both drifting off to sleep. Jungwon’s heavy limbs are thrown on you as he loosely spoons you. Like he’s still trying to take care of you despite the fact that you no longer feel sick, and you’re both perfectly safe behind your apartment walls.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Have you no shame?

Fuck no.

What about Jungwon? Nah.

Both of you have a pep in your step by the next Friday, waiting for the museum to close so Jungwon can walk home with you and get all dressed up and ready for another fall into the infamous “after life”.

“We should try to stay until closing, maybe Jay will bring us home this time.” Jungwon wiggles his eyebrows as you put his eyeliner on for him again.

“We’re gonna have to look real good then, yeah?” You smile at his pretty smeared eyes, reaching your hand up and ruffling his hair.

And you do. Both of you dress up in the darkest, blackest, sexiest fit you can find in your closet. Jungwon is sporting one of your pretty, sheer lace undershirts beneath his own unbuttoned black cardigan, pants tight and low on his waist.

You, with another semi-transparent shirt. Sheer, showing all the goods if you hadn’t put on a nice fitting bralette under it. Cute skirt that shows your thighs, the stompers, of course.

And the finishing touch this time? Matching chokers.

“Cute.” You comment, leaning forward and popping a minty kiss to the tip of Jungwon’s nose.

“You too.” He smiles, pinching your waist before turning to face your vanity mirror and checking himself out.

Cute is right. Jay’s probably gonna fall to the floor when he gets a look at the two of you.

And, well. The night is a blur.

Jay does, in fact, eye the two of you with that sharp smirk like he did last weekend but you, unfortunately, drink far too much yet again.

Jungwon slowed down a bit towards midnight but he kept an eye on you for the most part. Trying to secure the ride for both of you by orbiting around the bar and making flirty talk with both bartenders when time allowed it.

You stayed on the dance floor through it. Sometimes dancing with Jungwon when he comes up behind you with clingy hands and updates on the Jay situation, but after a few songs he’d wander off again.

It’s nice, kind of. Having someone with you that can maintain control through your own drunken stupidity. You don’t mind dancing alone, after all, you’re not entirely alone giving the pretty men and girls who come by to dance with you every other song when Jungwon isn’t around.

And of course, around the same time as last time, you find your mind feeling suffocated by the time the club is at capacity.

You sway on the dance floor in search of Jungwon, unsure of which way the bar is because your eyes simply can’t adjust to the darkness and flashing lights by this point.

Dimples. You need to find the sunshine face in this void of darkness.

And you search.

And search.

Until you’re stumbling out the front doors alone, knowing that if Jungwon is looking for you, he’ll probably know you stepped out to breathe at some point.

Just like the week before, the crip summer air outside instantly settles your stomach and breathing comes easier. You feel more sober than you thought you were as you sit here, making small talk with the bouncer who finally introduces himself to you.

“That’s a good name for a big goth teddy bear.” You mock the man. “Balor.”

“In the flesh.” The man waves you off.

And then, suddenly, the bouncer is stepping closer to you with a stiffened shoulder, the air outside shifting to something else for him, but you’re completely unaware of it.

“I need to step inside for a moment, will you be alright for a few minutes?” He knows he shouldn’t step inside, but in all fairness, it’s kind of the protocol at this point.

Considering that man has made himself very clear that if he’s near the club at all, it’s for good reason and he’s not to be interrupted. At least, that’s what code is for the bouncers here at this club.

It’s a shame though, to know he has to leave you to the night. You’re a fun girl, peppy and sweet, not rude or hard to make small talk with on the long nights of work. Maybe you drink a little too much, but still. It’s not like the bouncer knows why he is to leave the sidewalk when a certain someone wanders by. What he does know is that more often than not, he’ll sink away inside only to resume his position alone, with no one left on the sidewalk.

Probably just a pimp.

Or human trafficking.

He isn’t sure, but time and time again he has been told to leave it be. That it’s nothing wretched. That it’s simply a territory that isn’t their own.

Still, you nod to the bouncer.

“If you see Wonnie, can you scold him for letting me get lost?”

You miss the look of concern on the bouncer’s face.

“Hey, come back inside, I’ll help you find him.”

“Oh, hello again.” A voice echoes from around the corner, causing the bouncer’s shoulders to fall as he immediately offers you a small “I'll find him–” before disappearing behind the heavy doors with haste.

And then, cinnamon. The spicy scent wafting through you so fast that you’re almost dizzy.

More dizzy than you already were, anyway.

“Have you learned nothing?” The priest walks up to you, chuckling and raising his eyebrows.

“Weird ass priest.” You say, paying no mind to the happenings of just now, totally unaware of the energy surrounding you.

“And to what god do you believe I pray?” He tilts his head as he stands in front of you, hands behind his back, leaning down at the waist to position his face in front of yours.

The question makes you look up at him with a skewed brow.

“The usual one?” You ask, rolling your eyes at the silly meeting.

Again.

A third meeting.

“Ah, the usual one.” He mocks, nodding his head before standing back up and towering over you. “Do you seek him out?”

You nod momentarily, having never been religious but at this moment, as drunk as you are and as alone as you feel with this strange man, only god could answer your curious question as to why you keep meeting him.

As to why you’re always all on your own when he appears.

As to why he forces a hope in your mind that god is really out there, and he’ll protect you when the bouncer isn’t here.

“Was that a nod?” He smiles at you, landing a cold hand on your shoulder.

“Yes,” You whisper out, feeling heavy and more and more dizzy by the moment. Not from the alcohol but from something else. “Do you know where I can find him?”

Your voice calls out on its own to him. You don’t recall wanting to ask him that, nor do you recall even thinking those words before saying them.

“He’s right here, love–” The priest pulls back, presenting the space in front of him before turning his hands inward and presenting himself to you. “I am God.”

You freeze, a rush of cold running through your veins. Surely you’re hearing him wrong despite that voice echoing those words in your head three, four, five, six times.

“Isn’t that considered blasphemy?” You try to play it off in a joke, hiding the chill down your spine.

Pretending you’re not interested.

Wondering why it is that you are, actually.

“Perhaps on any other street.” He confirms for you, now crouching down and showing his face plainly to you. “Do you keep secrets?”

Your body nods before you can think to do it yourself, and you narrow your eyes for a moment at him. He’s…insane looking. Unnaturally flawless. Like those little speckles of moles on his face were placed with perfected intention.

You’re mesmerized as he looks at you, eyes glancing to each part of your face, watching your expression change and fall, then rise and– he chuckles fondly, deeply.

“I believe you.”

Why do you feel proud of that?

“Come back with me, yes?”

There’s a long pause as you fight to think for yourself. If Jungwon were here with you right now, surely you’d be more grounded than you feel right now. Surely, you’d be having a heated conversation involving some sort of shared fantasy over that bartender.

What was his name again?

J…J-

Your eyes adjust to the face in front of you as you lose your train of thought. Something inside of you pulls. You can’t tell if it’s your heart or your thoughts but it appears to be instinctual when you replay his invitation in your head. On any other night, with any other man, you’d say no.

Under these circumstances alone, you should be running away.

This man. Dressed as a holy priest, walking to and fro from what you assume to be his home within that unnatural cathedral, presenting himself as god.

You should stand up and disappear into a crowd of rowdy dancers.

You should find Jungwon and cling to him.

You should push him away, and you should be recoiling by his cold hand that brushes your cheek. His voice shouldn’t feel so good in your ears. Like a siren, something inside of you doesn’t want you to run.

“Temptation has you by the throat, my dear.” He smiles as his hand brushes your warm cheek again and again. “You seem rather fond of the feeling.”

And now he flashes his teeth to you. Glistening brighter than the moon, he appears all but natural to you at this moment when you spiral internally at how fucking beautiful he is. Surely this guy is just a turbo goth that truly lives the life. Probably gives his heart to satan and only fucks during a full moon.

And oh, wouldn’t you know.

You glance up at the sky again, the moon full and nearly pulsing in the sky like it’s a living being itself. Then your eyes fall back to the priest, his smile still present.

A weirdo. A freak.

But…aren’t you too?

You barely feel yourself stand up and take a step forward under his arm. You follow the scent of him if nothing else. Heavy in your nose, like a hidden treasure cloaked by the darkened fabric draping over his body.

You want to smell it deeper. Maybe if he were to take off those clothes you could–

“By the throat.” He mumbles quietly as he leads you away from the club.

Away from familiarity. Away from Jungwon. Away from the public.

There, straight back to that damned cathedral.

You’re more unnerved this time though, because the moment you step through the doors, you cannot, for the life of you, recall what you were supposed to be doing.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Waking up with a weight on your side, you smile at the feeling of what you assume to be Jungwon next to you. As you lay here, not quite comprehending what happened in the blur of the night before, you start to take note of something. Color.

The light behind your closed eyelids don’t match the yellow-white light of the sun shining through your bedroom window. No, you’re seeing colors.

Blue, red, green–

“Wonnie?” You call out, squinting your eyes open, not quite processing the room before you feel a pit in your stomach. “Wonnie?”

Holy shit.

You thought it was a dream.

You thought coming back to this cathedral was nothing more than a drunken dream. That the weight on your side was more than just a misplaced pillow.

And as you lay here in a room that isn’t yours, and most certainly a different room compared to the one you slept in previously here, you try to think.

Was it not a dream?

The way the priest held you close and inhaled you? The way he put you to bed and left you here in the darkness? The way you– oh.

This feeling in your chest, pulling, pushing, weighing so heavy. Something inside of you wants to see him despite your uncomfortable awakening. No, you need to see him. This feeling, you know now, only becomes more aggressive when he’s near too. Which can only mean he isn’t far outside of this room.

You think hard about him and what you can remember outside of the blur in your head. He’s attractive. His face is otherworldly, with eyes so dark you hate that you can very nearly see yourself floating in them.

The image of his face sits clearly in your hungover brain as you try to think. The feeling of his cold skin against your face, his lips, his…

Red.

Panic washes over you when you jump out of bed, ignoring the head rush and the way you immediately topple over and onto the floor. You need to go home, you need to find Jungwon and make sure he made it somewhere safe last night. You need to find your phone, and your…purse?

Your shoes?

Where the fuck are your things?

You plant your hands against the cold wooden floors, staring straight down as you try to think. Still, nothing comes but blurry images of the club and then solid images of Sunghoon flashing like still photographs behind your eyes.

Are you losing your goddamn mind?

Finally, you take a deep breath and stand on your feet, rushing for the door and expecting it to open easily, just like last time. But no. It’s locked. You’re fucking locked in. Which is– fuck, you can’t think straight. And while you still recognize that you’re not expected at work today, surely Jungown is worried, right?

He’s probably looking for you. Hell, with the way his nerves get to him, you wouldn’t be surprised to know he’s plastered posters all over the city looking for you.

He’s definitely looking for you.

Fortunately though, only a few minutes of pure panic pass when you hear the door unlock and a pale-eyed nun opens the door for you. She instantly sees the fear in your eyes when you take a timid step back.

“Oh, you poor dear–” She coos out, lifting her brows in pity. “Do you not remember?”

You hear her sympathy, feeling your body shiver with relief at her safe and calm voice. Looking up at her, she can already see the question in your eyes. The need for an explanation.

“You did request that I lock the door for you. You were just simply petrified when–”

You gasp at her choice of words, not remembering a single bit of fear from the night before.

“Petrified?” You whisper carefully, wrapping your arms around yourself and nervously looking around the room.

The shrouded woman purses her lips, glancing away from you.

“I do believe Master Sunghoon startled you. He meant no harm, my dear.” She tries to calm your nerves, but the information only stiffens your shoulders more.

“Master?” You question with hesitation. “Do you mean Father? Reverend?”

“Oh.” She purses her lips tighter now, a small smile breaking out at the corners of her lips. “It’s worse than I thought. Please, come with me.”

You shake your head, backing yourself up against the wall.

“It’ll only be a minute,” She waves her hand for you to come. “You’re not in danger, I assure you.”

And as you stand here, knowing that you likely have no choice but to follow her, you hope that her words indicating no danger are truthful. You kind of need them to be, after all.

“Come now, dear.”

Reluctantly, you follow her.

All the way up a too-dark spiral staircase, down two long and dark hallways with vaulted ceilings, and upon rounding a corner, you smell it and you fucking feel a tug in your chest. One that drives you to walk a bit faster, nearly in front of the nun as your feet carry you to where you feel you’re supposed to be.

She chuckles when you reach the large double doors before she does, dipping her head at you before seemingly gliding back down the hallway in silence.

Before you can even knock on the doors, they open with a rush of air hitting you square in your face. It nearly knocks the breath out of you at first, but you inhale deeply the same scent of cinnamon before your breath is actually caught in your throat.

There stands the priest. Or god…or whatever he is.

“Terrified.” He clicks a knowing tongue at you, stepping to the side to invite you into the extravagant room. “Just when I thought I had you too.”

You stand in silence in front of him after stepping inside, that tug in your chest trying to pull you directly against the man. Still, you refrain with furrowed brows as you remain silent.

“And yet, here you stand.” He softens his frustrated voice, leaning comfortably against a wooden desk behind him. “The human brain truly is fascinating.”

“Human brain.” You repeat his words to him in an attempt to process them.

“Yes, of course. Yours in particular.” The priest, in his night clothes of a loosened white shirt and long pants makes his way to a bookcase. You watch his slender fingers pull a ratty old book out before he flip through the pages. “I’ve heard about people like you.”

You pause as you watch him push a pair of gold-trimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, a memory flooding to the forefront of your mind as you recall last night to your best ability.

Again, red.

“I used to be like you.” He just talks, offering no context but keeping his sharp gaze on you despite having the book open in his hands.

You find yourself nodding as you listen, feeling your hand raise to your heart as you try to ignore the way the priest, Sunghoon, takes a deep inhale.

There’s nothing that follows his inhale. He doesn’t release that breath as he stares at you and instead just…smirks.

“Last night, you believed me to be god.” He smiles wider now. “You stood in that very spot and undressed yourself.” He takes a step closer to you now, tilting his head with his words. “Do you know what you did next?”

A shaky breath leaves your lips and a shiver runs through you again and again as you shake your head at him. Forgetting just for a moment how to speak.

“You got on your knees and you prayed.”

You drink the thick air in the room like a glass of wine, swallowing harshly, struggling to maintain any type of steady heart beat. You feel allured, aroused, mesmerized, embarrassed.

“What–” Inhale. “Did I pray for?”

Exhale.

“Me.”

Inhale.

Within a split second all the memories come crashing through your skull. Rattling images of that very instance where you were on your knees, right here, fucking praying. Your hand instinctively shoots up to your neck, and there, you feel the drainage points. Two small pricks, just like in all of those movies you watched growing up. Sore, swollen, hot to the touch.

Well, goddamn.

There goes your balance. Your eyes start to blur and you feel yourself fall. Only, you don’t. You can’t when you hear him drop the book to the floor and feel his cold body shoot up and against you to hold you up.

He says nothing at first as he looks down at you, and you couldn’t say anything if you wanted to. You look up at him in a daze, trying to focus, trying to think, but all you can process is the way he inhales again, deeply.

“You ran.” He whispers to you, studying your face and the way your body went from limp to almost holding up on its own in a shorter time than he expected. So strong, you are. Such a fighter.

He inhales again, seemingly drowning in the smell of you before rolling his eyes up and closing them just for a moment. Then, he groans before looking back down at you with eyes almost as dazed as yours.

“You didn’t run away, though.” He adds.

Even as he releases his hold on you, he smiles and inches his face closer and closer to yours. Almost as if he’s making an attempt to stare straight through you.

“I wouldn’t have stopped you, love.”

Your body feels weak as you soak in the truth of last night, your lips instinctively wanting to kiss him. No longer do you feel the need to run away, or to find Jungwon. You’re no longer afraid, even.

Words can’t explain how you feel right now.

“Why didn’t you leave?”

You have no answers for him when you hum out as a response. In fact, you’re not sure if you’ve ever had the ability to answer questions in the first place.

All you feel is euphoria as he continues to talk to you, sweetly smiling and lowering his voice to something that drips like thick syrup down the walls of your brain.

“I can trust you’ll be back then?” He hovers his lips over yours, watching you pucker them for him before backing away with another deep inhale of your scent. “Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?”

You find yourself laughing at that, smiling as you blink at him.

God, he’s so charming.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Sunghoon had shoo’d you away shortly after, and you managed to make it home in a daze of sunlight and uncanny admiration.

You’re not sure if you can ever feel normal again after that. In fact, you’re quite dissociated and disconnected to the world until you find Jungwon slumped at the entrance of your apartment, sound asleep.

Like a guiding light, his presence grounds you so fast that you feel more dizzy than you did in Sunghoon’s arms. Like your spirit is slammed back into your body and reality is hitting you again. You crouch down in a rush with light taps to Jungwon’s face, those bright eyes widening the moment he realizes that you’re here.

“Where were you?” He whispered drowsily, his dry throat forcing his voice to crack as he shifts his body comfortably against your door.

Immediately, your face is apologetic and your voice is soothing in repeated apologies.

“I’m sorry, Wonnie–” You hiccup, nearly wanting to cry. “I ended up going home with someone, I didn’t mean to leave you there alone.” You continue, pushing your hands under his arms and hoisting him up to stand. “I’m sorry.” You continue, and continue. “I should have left my keys with you, or–”

“Hey,” He whispers sweetly, finally standing on his own and stretching his arms out with an even drier sound. “It’s okay, you’re the one who missed out.”

You tilt your head in question as you reach for your shoulder bag, the one Sunghoon had tucked within his desk drawer, and pull out your keys.

“Oh?” You smile at his lack of care, but part of you kind of shatters at it.

What if you really needed help? How long would it have taken Jungwon to see the red flags? Then again, how long is it going to take for you to see the red flags?

“Oh yeah.” He nods to you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as you push open your door and push him inside. “Jay brought me here, he stayed for a little while, even offered to bring me back to his place.”

You’re a little jealous. You did miss out, it seems. Still, you feel…fond of what you went through last night. Despite the feeling of rot within you when you think about it. Knowing it’s weird. Strange. Unnatural.

A vampire? Really? Surely not.

“Why didn’t you go home with him?” You ask, making your way to your room right behind Jungwon, paying no mind to him as you undress and throw on a t-shirt. “Why’d you sleep at my door?”

Jungwon shrugs, now taking his own outfit off while rummaging through your closet for a shirt you probably got from an ex boyfriend.

“Well,” He looks at you now, really looks at you. “I’m fine if you wanna go home with people but I was a little worried, wanted to make sure you’d actually make it home.”

You pause as you dress yourself for a second sleep, feeling something in your chest flutter out of you at his worry. So he did see the color red.

Not as brightly as you did, but he still saw it.

“I really am sorry.” You furrow your brows as you watch him put that over-sized shirt on and lay on your bed. “I promise, I won’t do that again.”

“You’d better not.” He chuckles, blinking at you and waiting for you to come lay with him.

“Let me go get us some water first, I think we have a lot to sleep off.”

He nods happily to you, only one dimple peeking out at you when you turn to head for the kitchen.

And after that, it’s nice. Not much sleep happened though, mostly just a lot of water chugging and pillow talk before Jungwon shifts with a gasp.

“What the fuck is that?” He bolts up, hovering over you and practically pinning you to the bed as he forces your face to the side.

You know exactly what he’s looking at and explaining it isn’t the hardest thing in the world. After all, you were very drunk last night. So drunk that you’re sure you woke up today still drunk.

A vampire? Hah. There’s no way. You were right to think Sunghoon is just like, really goth. Embarrassingly so. Probably thinks he’s a vampire lord or something.

That pull in your chest? The inhales with no exhales?

It’s all an act and, well, you’re kinda into it if you’re being honest, being hunted and all. The dude is hot as hell, and you don’t mind exploring a little bit of his world.

“Well…” You trail off, lending your looming friend with the smeared eyes an embarrassed smile.

“Those look deep.” His voice drips in concern as he keeps your face turned. “Did it hurt?”

You feel his fingers touching the two puncture wounds. Gentle, warm fingers. They pulse at the touch and sting when he pulls them away to let you turn your face back to him.

“To be honest, I don’t remember feeling it.” You think he’d probably panic if you told the truth right now. About how you were clearly too drunk when it happened. About how you prayed to a man only for him to pierce your neck and drink you up like you did to the drinks just hours prior. You aren’t even sure if you had sex with the guy.

To you though, sober or not, you probably would have still left with Sunghoon last night. With that flawless skin and those dark eyes. Sober or not, if he’s into biting and blood, you’re into it too. More than willing to play his victim.

The fact that you were probably far too drunk at the time doesn’t bother you much because even now, with a grasp on reality, you’d like to think you’d let him do it again. If anything, just to feed your own curiosity.

“Wow, you really are into some freaky stuff–” Jungwon comments playfully, rolling back off of you and then taking a breath. “Make sure you clean them. Who knows where the mouth that did it has been.”

All smiles when you’re with Jungwon, honestly. So much comfort and concern, so much laughing and safety. If it weren’t for him, you honestly wouldn’t know how you’d be feeling right now. And it’s nice knowing that he opts to sleep over with you again. Seemingly preferring your apartment over the home he dropped a hefty wad of cash on for a two month stay.

The feeling of having a best friend swells inside of you with each passing day, and his presence here allows you to go to work and sleep through the night without much more thought to Sunghoon. You love this city and you love the little artist that found himself at your doorstep even more.

Hopefully he meant it when he said he’d come visit you all the time once his time here is over. Unlike you, who changed your mind the moment you saw Jungwon asleep at your door.

“I can trust you’ll be back then? Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?” Sunghoon had said to you. You remember it despite the state of your mind at the time, and you also remember nodding to him.

He seemed satisfied with your confirmation, yet since then you’ve felt no push or pull. No need to have him sucking on your neck or making you feel like he’s a demon wearing the skin of an angel.

Perhaps you’ll just need to be sure you don’t find yourself drunk and alone on the sidewalk again.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

By mid-week, Jungwon looks sad to know he needs to go back to his respective space for a little while. Not because he wants to, and not even because you want him to.

It’s simply because you need to be alone. You’ve always needed to be in your own space when this happens anyway.

Month after month after month. For years and years.

It never gets comfortable and you’ll never understand why you’re fated to hurt so badly every twenty two days.

Going to work is already difficult enough, bloated in your quirky outfits and smiling through the twisting knots in your gut. Having Jungwon in your space when you very nearly want to strangle every person who asks you how your day has been would only lead to more owed apologies.

“It’s not forever, Wonnie.” You genuinely smile through the pain at his narrowed eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Oh, I’m being dramatic?” He throws his arms up and motions at you. “You just told me you need a few days to bleed out on your kitchen floor.”

“Well, yeah...” You laugh and he frowns.

“I have a sister, you know.” He rolls his eyes. “Who’s gonna buy you snacks and bring you microwaved water bottles?”

“Jungwon.” You land your hands on his shoulders and force him to look at you. “I really just don’t like when people are around me when I'm on my period.”

He blows a strand of his hair up before pursing his lips, accepting the fact that maybe he’s a bit too clingy. Then again, you’re the only person in this city he knows and arguably the only person in this world he’s managed to grow so close with.

Given the fact that the two of you only met like, what? Two weeks ago? He should probably tone it down and not make an attempt to change your lifestyle just so he can sleep next to someone.

“Fine.” He huffs, frowning harder. “But if you need snacks or–”

“I’ll call you.” You shake his shoulders before forcing him into a bear hug. “Thanks though.”

And with that, you go your separate ways at the end of the work day and try to ignore how the pain medicine did close to nothing all day to help with the twisting in your abdomen.

Still, you’re relieved to know you can tough out the next few days in silence due to Jungwon backing you up on your false-sickness nonsense nearing the end of your shift.

“I feel like I’m coming down with a fever.” You whined to your boss, happy that the first day cold-sweats from your period makes it appear as just that. A fever.

“She’s been a bit out of it all day. If you need me to help out on the down-low while she’s recovering, I don’t mind.” Jungwon had added, smiling at your boss and not at all bothered by the unpaid work he’ll probably have to do for your sake.

A great friend he is. You’re lucky to have met him.

An amazing friend, really. For helping you find space for yourself in crowded clubs and within your own bed. For lending a hand at work and showing up every day for your shifts despite simply being an artist that’s presenting his work there. No where is he needed within that museum outside of, well, you.

And he’s always there. So for him to not be here now, when you’re making your way to your apartment door? It feels...wrong. Mostly because, as alone as you are when you walk inside and as silent as it is, you don’t entirely feel as alone like you once did here.

Still, you go about your nightly routine and fall into bed with those same cramps in your gut. It’s not long before you’re drifting off, pleased to know that at least when you’re sleeping, there’s no pain in your body.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A strong scent wakes you, forcing your eyes open in the darkness of your room.

Familiar. Warm. Spicy.

Cinnamon.

A tug, just a little pull inside of you brings you to your feet as you wander through your apartment. Straight to the front door. Straight out of the front door.

“You know where I live?” You whisper drowsily, rubbing your eyes and walking straight into his grasp, ignoring the feeling of sticky blood leaking out of you just from getting out of bed alone.

“No.” Sunghoon speaks against your hair, rubbing your arms as he holds you against him.

“Oh.” You accept his answer with a nonchalant feeling inside of you. Who even cares how he ended up here?

“Come back with me?” He whispers, already taking a step back and smiling wickedly when you instantly follow, forcing your nose further against his chest and up to his neck. “I hear it dripping, love, come.”

And you do. All the way downstairs and into a car with heavily tinted windows.

You feel comfortable, safe.

The cramps in your belly are nowhere near as you slowly but surely come to your senses. Half-awake but feeling buzzed next to him. Still, you smile while keeping your nose planted up and against his neck even as he drives.

You like the sound of his little laughs each time he tries to push you back to your seat, and you like even more the way he mutters to himself through it when he relents and lets you do as you please. The short drive in the dead of night doesn’t offer much in terms of danger anyway.

And slowly still, your mind clears. Breaking out of the buzzed fog when he brings you through the cathedral

silently. Past the pale-eyed nuns with pursed smiling lips, past the windows and hallways.

No longer are you buzzed by the time you make it through those heavy doors of the extravagant room. The same one you prayed in. The same one you nearly fainted in. The same one you tried to forget.

“How do you feel?” He asks just moments after the doors close.

You can sense the slightest bit of hesitation in his voice when he asks you that, only now realizing that you’re in your pajamas and fucking staining them.

“What do you mean?” You ask, squeezing your legs together in an uncomfortable show of what’s happening between them.

“Are you awake?” He asks now, still slightly hesitant in front of you. You can almost see him hold himself back.

From something.

“As far as I know.” You tilt your head, glancing around the room. “Um, can I go to the bathro–”

“Can you read that clock?” He interrupts you and points to the candle-lit wall.

“Three thirty–” You pause, squinting to make sense of the exact minute. “three.”

He smiles at the fact that you’re entirely awake with him this time, despite the drowsy lure he had you in when he appeared at your door.

You’re here of your own free will, and you’re not running.

“Do you want to go home?”

You’re confused by the questions. As confused and drunk as you felt upon stumbling out your apartment door, you very much came here willingly. If anything, you’re just a little weirded out by the fact that you were paying such close attention to him that you missed the way blood seeped through your clothes.

“No?” You offer back to him before taking a deep breath. “Can you show me where the bathroom is though?”

And before you can even comprehend it, Sunghoon is right up against you. Looming and staring down as his hands rest on your shoulders before sliding down to your waist.

“Now, now.” He chuckles, lowering his face just an inch, resting his lips on your forehead. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Because I’m gross right now?” You laugh awkwardly, trying to take a step back but realizing that his grip on you tightens.

“Oh, have you forgotten?” He laughs out, lowering himself more, dragging his lips all the way down your face, neck, chest.

“Ah, wait–” You panic when you feel his nose against your stomach, threatening to go lower. “I’m like…” You’re embarrassed to say it now.

After all, you came here with the clear indication of fucking. Period or not, you’re not afraid of a little bit of blood but…this.

“Sunghoon, I’m on my period.” You finally speak into the room, trying to push his face from your stomach.

“I know.” He smiles, pressing his nose harder against your stomach. “Drove me crazy all day.” He dips his face down instantly, inhaling deeply between your legs.

Something inside of you is insanely turned on by his blatant interest in you.

“All day?” You ask, hands reaching for his hair as he drags his nose straight through the mess you’ve made.

“Could smell it, darling.” He laughs, pulling back and looking up at you. “Smells so sweet, not gross. Delicious.”

Why the fuck is the blood smeared against the tip of his nose so alluring? Jungwon was right, you really are into some freaky shit. Then again, it’s not so weird considering you’ve never done this before. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere when it comes to kinks, right?

“Can smell something else too.” He looks back between your legs, ignoring that you are trying to act like you don’t want to let him. “You’re aroused.”

Oh.

And just as you’re preparing for some sort of pressure between your thighs, you feel a waft of cold air rush up your body when he stands and grabs your face with both hands.

“You never came back.” He hisses against your lips, dragging you back and further into the room with him. “I had to sniff you out like a fucking dog.”

Your mouth falls open at the spiteful shift in his voice, following his movements all the way into the room until he’s spinning around and pushing you from his hold. You fall back against something insanely soft, and instantly you moan at the feeling of silk against you.

Barely able to catch your breath, he’s over you. He’s on you. Tucking his face into the crook of your neck with a low rumbled growl in his throat and inhaling over and over again.

Inhale. Inhale. Inhale.

And you can feel him nose his way all the way up to your face, opening his eyes and staring straight through you with slack lips just over yours.

You’re mesmerized by him at this moment. Never has a man acted this way with you and it’s insane to think you’d ever be satisfied with someone who wouldn’t. You almost strain your neck to kiss him, and you truly would have if it weren’t for the fact that you feel him sink his hand into your shorts.

Not even a second to truly comprehend how ice-cold his fingers feel when he slips them down and slides two of them into you. He watches your face when he does it, his own slack lips turning to a smile when you moan out at the smallest of pleasure he wants to offer you.

“Oh, look at you,” He coos, feeling your arms shoot around his shoulders when he continues to slide the digits in and out of you. “So sticky, what a pretty little mess.”

You groan in embarrassment at the act, knowing full well that you’ll have to face the fact that you like it at some point after he’s finished with you. You don’t mind admitting it so much now though. The way his fingers slide through the thick mess, forcing the scent of brass to mix with his own cinnamon aroma? To die for, truly.

“I could just eat you up–” He chokes in a whisper this time, struggling to maintain his composure from the sickening sweet smell of your blood. “Would you like that?”

You lift up instantly, kissing against his slackened smile. It’s one sided, as he simply lets you do it and nothing more. Mostly because he, himself, is spiraling into a frenzy of what he needs more than what you want. It’s all pleasure the same though, as he feels your tongue trace against one of his sharpened teeth.

Just a small bite. Just a taste.

“Ah–” You pull back in a wince, the flavor of blood hitting the back of your taste buds as you look up at him with confusion.

He doesn’t allow much looking though, as you hear that same rumble from his throat right up against your lips. You feel his tongue lick you up, slurping the blood straight from your new wound and moaning through the flavor of it.

His eyes flutter closed as he tries to hold down his thirst, knowing that his fingers are fucking dripping with this same sweet, red slick. It wouldn’t take much now for him to break and let it all drip down his throat. He could end this now if he’s not careful.

And when he opens his eyes again as he pulls back from your sweet tongue, he notes the look of confusion still on your face. His eyes roll in fond annoyance at you for that, only because you have this stubborn need to question despite having the clear answer bleeding from your mouth.

“You’re still trying to pretend you don’t realize?” He asks, whispering real close to your lips, darting his tongue out and offering a small kitten lick as he buries his fingers deep.

Your lips open for him in a moan and he licks into it again. Your still bleeding tongue only drives him further and further from a stable mindset. No one, not in hundreds of years, has tasted this fucking sweet. He almost can’t savor it with the way his body rises from slumber at the mere fucking scent of you from ten blocks away.

His cock pulses for the first time in decades for you. God, he feels more alive than he did when he was actually cycling blood through his veins.

“You just sliced open that pretty tongue on my teeth.” He chuckles, basking in the warmth he can only feel with you beneath him. “My fangs, love.” His fingers continue their slide all the while, the sounds of squelching blood filling his ears more than your soft groans for more. “Still, you seem to deny what this is and what I am.”

You can hear his words, but comprehending them isn't quite as easy. Like, yes, he’s got a vampire kink. Whatever.

“I get it, you’re kinky.” You huff out, missing the way he stifles a laugh at your denial of the truth.

“You’re a stubborn one–” He smiles, flashing the same fang that sliced through your tongue. “It’s a bit frustrating. Perhaps even endearing.”

And then, suddenly, his fingers come to a halt and he waits for you to look at him. Just as you go to speak, he’s sliding his fingers out of your mess so quickly, shushing you with his red stained digits.

“Now, listen.”

It’s silent. More silent than you ever thought the world could be.

“Do you hear it?”

You shake your head, feeling his fingers leave a trail of your blood against your lips as he drags them away and up to his own mouth.

There, he hangs his fingers from his mouth, licking gently and tasting thoughtfully before sliding them further in. He sucks them clean in an erotic show of his blood-lust before letting them fall from his still licking tongue. Then, he’s slotting them right back between your legs, wanting more to taste.

“No? You don’t hear how loud it is?” He asks now in a lower tone, still thirsty, still in need, dipping down to lick the blood from your face. “All that blood in you, bundled up right–” His fingers press hard against your clit. “Here.”

Your body jolts in pleasure, eyes rolling back at the mere sensitivity he forces your body into. God, kinky is right. He knows how to use words. His voice is so elegant while spewing the filth, so proper.

“Ahh, that feels good, doesn’t it?” He questions you in a moan that mimicked your own, now lowering himself from your face and kissing down your clothed chest. Down, down, down. “Do you think you’ll believe me when you feel the blood drain out of you?” His voice echoes in your ears, reminding you of the vampire-like thirst he’s trying to act upon.

And when he slips your shorts down your legs, you don’t even protest. Which at this point isn’t weird at all. The dude is insanely into it and you can’t help but feel like you can vibe with it if he keeps acting like this. He’s good at roleplaying.

Instead of an embarrassed protest, you respond to him by spreading your legs and presenting the red mess he’s smeared all over you. Inviting him.

He glances up at you as he watches, saying nothing, thinking nothing except for the fact that– you are perfect.

In every way, spread out and dripping blood, perfect.

You feel an intense jolt of pain shoot through your body just seconds later, followed by a loud and almost animalistic moan from the man between your legs. You lift slightly as you try to look down at him, witnessing the way he sucks the flesh of your thigh into his mouth, blood weeping from the new wounds his teeth create.

So much blood. He’s the one drunk now, utterly fucking mesmerized by the amount of it you pour for him. Your fleshy thighs offer the freshest, he couldn’t help but take a sip before giving you what your quivering body is truly begging for. He has to quench the genuine thirst before playing with his food, at least.

And as you watch him it’s like you’re nothing but a piece of meat at this moment. He’s sucking and sucking against your thigh until you’re sure your toes are numb. They’re tingling, and you can physically feel the blood being pulled from you. As if his teeth are two syringes seeping it out of you.

Af if they are. Not because they actually are, right?

And by the time your toes are effectively filled with static, he finally releases the fleshy bite on your thigh. You stare down, listening to him smack his lips and lick the corners of his mouth, seeing the way he doesn’t make eye contact with you at all before he’s turning his attention and burying his tongue into your crimson coated cunt. Without warning, but with so much eagerness with his tasting lips.

Your eyes flutter with a loud and strained gasp, eliciting a groan of his own to bubble into the blood that falls against his tongue with each passing pulse of you. He licks in time with your heartbeat, which is fucking insane that you can tell he does it. Never before now have you heard your heart beat so loudly, so frantically in your ears.

And you would be embarrassed, perhaps even worried that the taste is awful. Maybe it’s too much for him, maybe this kink is all just for show and this is a limit he’s only willing to try once before realizing himself that he doesn’t necessarily like drinking the blood from a woman’s pussy…except– Sunghoon gives you no reason to feel like any of that is true.

No, no. Oh no. He’s fucking relishing in it and you can tell by the way he moans and skews his head to dig his tongue deeper. You can tell by the way he smothers himself, not coming up for air for even a second of the time he’s spending down there.

And god, you can feel the mess of it all. Sticky, smearing all over your thighs when his fingers trace you mindlessly before gripping your thighs just to pull you down the bed, closer against his face, sliding his tongue ever deeper.

Moaning, fucking slurping it out of you without so much as a breath.

He’s not breathing.

And now? You panic, focusing more on the time he’s spending burying his mouth and nose into you than the feeling of it. Your hand shoots down into his hair, pulling his head back and away from you.

Then your breath is caught in your throat at the sharp image. His eyes blown out, widened at you. Nose, cheeks, chin, tongue all glistening with sticky crimson slick, and a smile.

He smiles at you.

At least before his tongue is clicking and he’s poking it into the side of his cheek before reaching back, grabbing your hand, and shoving it out of his hair before sinking his face right back between your legs. As if to show you that he was annoyed by that.

You don’t get to think about it though, because this time he’s licking you more frantically than he already was. Fast tongue flicking and fucking you, his teeth dragging against your pussy lips, refusing to let you believe that he wants to breathe fresh air right now.

Your hands find purchase in his hair yet again though, and you feel him grip your legs and stiffen his shoulders to keep his head in place just in case you try to pull him from you again. You hear the deep growl. You feel it rumble against you as if to warn you to keep your hands to yourself if you’re not going to let him do exactly what he said he would fucking do.

So, you don’t pull him away. Instead, you play in his hair with your weak hands. Twisting and twirling strands of it between your fingers until he’s pulling his tongue back on his own.

A shock to you, truly, that he does it at all. But you guess it makes sense when you feel another sharp pain in your thigh, right below the preview bite he had given you.

Just when you were gaining feeling back in your toes too.

And he goes back and forth like that for a while, until his face is utterly soaked in diluted blood and pussy-slick. Until he needs to look at it pulse, and watch how beautiful you still, fucking still, have more to pour out for him.

He’s amazed, really. Never has he served himself a woman that’s openly bleeding for him like this. After all, he prefers to drink his dinner from the carotid artery and be done with it. He was far more creative back in the day though, you know, when his cock still worked.

Most of his sexual pleasure came from drinking alone. Never getting hard but always reaching climax in one way or another when he gets that last, delicious drop of blood from his victims. But now? Oh, now. You’ve stirred his arousal back to life. Not from pure hunger, but lust.

It’s been so long that he’s lusted. So, so fucking long since he’s cared enough to fuck his prey or give in to the temptation of menstrual blood. In fact, he can’t even recall ever allowing his victims to fall away from the drowsy lure he puts them in. Many of them didn’t know what was happening to them before death and he preferred it that way.

Until you. An average looking commoner with insane fucking blood. Devilish blood. Divine, demonic, angelic, fucking celestial tasting blood.

After all this time, he’s had beautiful face after beautiful face. He’s had men, women, celebrities, false-prophets, and even purely divine bodies.. But you…oh no, he can’t simply kill you like those utter throw-aways.

There was a reason he didn’t end you the first night. Something in him caught fire on the taste of your drunken blood. The alcohol you had ran through his veins along with a taste he’s never once fathomed existing. It was the first time in hundreds of years where he forced himself to let you walk out of his quarters.

Blood with no comparison. So thick, so sweet, so…damning. How could he have just killed you there? How could he pretend like it’s not addicting? Like he didn’t want you to continue producing more and more of it, all for him to drink up?

Of course he wants all of it. He wants to drain you to your last fucking drop, but then he’d never taste it again. Not in thousands of years, at least. So now, as his cock pulses awake and your heavy flow only produces more and more for his hungry mouth to lick up– fuck.

It’s been so long since he’s felt something for a victim like this, and even longer since he’s wanted to use his cock. No, needing to use it. It feels almost foreign to him now after so many centuries, to fuck and eat at the same time. To indulge in all the pleasure, and not just the one that keeps him alive. To want you to feel the pleasure too, to need you to want him without the false sleep forcing it.

You.

You’re the one. You’re the one he’s going to keep. For as long as you’ll let him, and when you stop letting him, he’ll have no choice but to lure you again. Forever. All for him.

“Love,” He rasps out, staring at the way your pussy shines so prettily in front of him, the pulse drawing him to near starvation despite being drenched in his meal. “Never have I wanted to fuck before I–”

Kill, is the word he almost used. It’s instinctual, but instead he releases a moan from his throat at the mere thought ignoring that instinct. Drinking, sipping. Forever just a fucking appetizer and never the full meal. He can settle. He will settle.

Never. Truly never has he wanted to stop himself from drinking just to fuck and he needs you to know that. The feeling is too erotic for even him to comprehend right now, meshing with his hunger and making him feel –-

Gods be damned, he could kill you.

He should kill you. Given the fact that he has never let a meal leave this room without being drained entirely. Never while they’re awake and fully aware anyway. Insanity. You’ve made him go insane, losing his wits enough to treat you as something more than a victim.

Despite hunting you as one. Despite never having to hunt anyone like he has you. Wanting you to be here willingly. Wanting you to love the feeling of his thirst. Wanting you to learn how good the drain feels. Wanting you to know what he is and needing you to love it.

Needing you to stay alive.

Insane.

He’s fucking losing it.

He knows that if he can never smell this scent again, if he can never taste it, or have your fingers in his hair, if he can never want to fuck again? Oh, he’d crumble.

He’d take a walk at noon.

You’re not dying tonight. In fact, never shall you feel the cold slab of a morgue freezer if he has anything to do with it. No blood wasted when it comes time for you, and no life truly lost either.

If just for the sex. If just to quench a never ending thirst.

If just to live in insanity.

“Before you–” You release in a breath that he chases. As if craving the life under him like an animal. “Before you, what?”

“Kill.” He whispers as he swallows each breath of yours, tasting the sweet sleep that you once held in your body. His own eyes feeling drowsy as if you have your own lure on him now.

Even the panicked gasp you release at his choice of word there, he swallows it, kissing you hard in a drowsy groan and smearing the blood all through the kiss, letting your breath rumble out of his mouth as if the moan were from his own lungs.

“So vacuous.” He chuckles now, feeling the pleasure of his cock jolt through his body. He presses himself between your legs, relishing in the sticky blood seeping straight through his sleep pants. “Do you feel that?” He continues, rutting against you as if he’s a virgin of all that he’s experiencing right now, licking each smear of blood from your cheeks and chin.

“Ah, Sunghoon,” You groan, but you try to be serious in your tone. Feeling the orgasm that once was bubbling up settle back in your stomach. “You’re making a mess.”

“Mm, I am.” He mutters mindlessly, pressing harder against you now as the taste settles in his throat. “Love, tell me. You feel it?”

Of course you fucking feel it.

The nod you lend pleases him, knowing that it’s not just his imagination. Finally, he can feel the warmth of a living being wrapped around him. Finally, he doesn’t feel so cold.

“You can’t fathom what it is that you do to me,” He continues his sweet talk, running his lips down to your neck, leaving trails of that blood all the way before immediately piercing his teeth into the same wounds he left on you already. He feels your pulse against his teeth when he sucks and only groans weaker against you as he ruts.

“Ah–” You wince in pain again, feeling the wound reopen with a cold and sharp prick. The pain ignites something inside of you to press your hips up, sliding yourself against his red-drenched pants.

He chuckles into his bite at your willingness, his hands reaching straight down to shove his pants down in one movement. Euphoria runs through him at the feeling of your warm blood against him when he presses back against you.

Really, the feeling alone paired with the taste of your fresh blood yet again only drives him to keep going. After all, he has all the time in the world. His intention to keep you here only lends him the ability to press his length straight into that bloody, sopping wet hole of yours. The one pulsing for him, the one that lends his favorite smell, taste, and feeling in the world.

His teeth are forced to retract when he throws his head back at the sensation of sinking deep into your cunt, one fluid motion reminding him of how much he loved this feeling before. How often he’d fuck, and fuck, and fuck until suddenly, he just– couldnt.

You’ve ignited so much life within him, even while doing nothing more than lying here bleeding. No longer does he feel bored with the world considering he’s managed to find you in it. He could possibly even love you if you let him.

Especially with the way you react nearly the same as he does. As if you haven’t fucked before. As if you’ve never mixed scents with another being before ever coming to this city to chase your own demise. The little sounds you make could be so much more than what you think they are.

They’re so similar to the ones you make when he bites, when he sucks, oh, so so similar. So deeply seeped in pleasure, pain, hesitation.

“Darling, are you afraid?” Sunghoon manages to say as he feels himself warm from inside of your tense body. “Do you believe me now? Do you understand now?”

You frantically shake your head at the tear of his cock spreading your walls open around it. That one slide rendering you near faint considering the amount of blood he’s taken from you already. The feeling of…ice. It’s in you, running from your veins all throughout your body. So, so, fucking cold.

No, no, no. No living being on this earth could feel this hard inside of you while being this…oh. His hands have been cold on you too. Always. His scalp under your fingernails as you scratched. His lips, his tongue, all of it was freezing until your blood was coating him. Everything about him is ice.

Still, you shake your head through the pleasure, cock warming him both literally and unintentionally. He just sits inside of you, feeling the beat of your heart gush that same blood past his length and out of you. Your eyes slightly open to look at him, afraid of what you’ll see.

He’s smiling. His eyes are…brighter.

“C–cold.” You manage to stutter out, nearly feeling brain freeze from the way he pulls his hips back and plunges into you again, warm blood splashing out and against his pelvis, coating your thighs more. And oh, that bite on your thigh, it’s dripping again.

“So cold, yes?” He chuckles when he dips down, moving his hips steadily in and out of your sticky mess. No longer thirsty, just…aroused. “Do you understand?”

You frantically shake your head again, grabbing onto him from over his shirt. You’re panicking inside, your fingers gripping so tight, trying to find heat. Needing heat.

How did you not think about this more? It took this to recognize that he never warms? And he’s smiling at your panic?

God, but it feels so, so fucking good.

“Love,” He coos at your panic, pistoning his hips easily with the slide, bringing both of his hands to your face and forcing you to look at him. “I’m dead.”

Ah.

So he is.

Yet, the feeling of him inside of you feels better than you’ve ever had. The way his hands hold your face, the way his eyes blow out for you, the way his entire face is tinted in red. He’s so alive yet…

Entirely dead.

“You’re afraid?” He asks through his own forgotten pleasure, wanting you to stay but entirely willing to put you to sleep so this doesn’t have to end.

“Sunghoon,” You interrupt any words he’s about to give you, opting to continue fighting the truth when you note the softer tone of voice he uses despite the quickening pace of his hips. “Harder.”

Oh, the fire within burns colder than it ever has at those words. He doesn't even need to pull you? You don’t want to pretend this isn’t happening? You’re accepting him?

If you want him to go harder, he’ll make you feel like no other. Harder he goes, using all of his pent up frustration of not being able to drain you fucking dead, all of his strength, all of everything he’s missed out for the past centuries– all of it. It’s behind his thrusts now as he slams into you. The blood that splatters out only makes the moment all the more grand to him.

Breaths leave you with each slam, the sticky sound from below being drowned out by the sheer sound your heart rate in your ear. You’re still panicking, but you can’t help but want more. After all, surely what’s left for you after he’s done is….no, it’s not real.

He feels the fear pulse around his cock and moans out at it, the squeeze so tight, the gush so delicious. This entire room smells of you, and he wants it to be fucking drenched in you. The fear inside of you right now only intensifies the pleasure, and he knows he should be calming you through it, he knows he should tell you that you’re making out of this alive, but–

The way the heart beats so frantically when one is terrified. You’re dripping with fear, the smell of your blood intensifies with each petrifying pulse squeezing his cock to the point he feels his own heart make an attempt to pulse. Your life runs through him entirely out of fear that you’ll lose it.

He can’t tell you, not when your body reacts so flawlessly. Exactly how it’s supposed to react. So delicious is that fear, he wonders if it makes your blood taste any hotter. He dips down, sinking his teeth into your neck once again and confirms his suspicions. It does taste hotter, sweeter, and it pumps itself so beautifully against his eager fangs. Almost as if you truly bleed for him, because he’s not even needing to suck for it at this point.

It just drips, and pours, and bubbles out all for him to swallow up.

You push through it though, the pain is so good, and if this is what it’s like to die, perhaps you’ve found yourself in a lucky position. At least you’re not being ripped to pieces by a stranger, or crushed beneath your own car on a highway. At least this way, you’re being held and seemingly adored.

And the fear, excitement, and pure adrenaline in your body forces it out of you. A rush of heat slamming Sunghoon right in his gut when you convulse under him. Legs shaking as you moan out both in disbelief and intense ecstasy. The blood tastes even sweeter now for him, so sweet that he has to pull back in a guttural and demonic growl.

It’s been so, so long since he’s felt a woman cum around him. His own body reacts in an instant, releasing his own thick secretion into you as you shake through it. Sweating, panting, drooling, crying, bleeding. All for him.

And the explosion behind his eyes is a reminder to keep you alive. He forces himself to keep the inhale from happening as he plunges into you one last time, coating the inside of your bloody walls with a flurry of freezing ropes. Amazed at the feeling he has long forgotten, his body shakes through it and renders him near psychotic for the release.

You continue to shake with him, shivering at how the man makes you feel as if you’ve been lying in snow for days, but you keep your eyes closed.

You’re terrified of him, of this, of the truth hitting you square between the eyes as if it wasn’t obvious all along. Fantasies, legends, fairy tales. How many of them are based in reality?

You know what’s coming now, based on those same stories.

The last bite, the drain, fuzzy images, death.

And you embrace for it, trying to relish in the post-orgasm bliss before it happens because you know there’s no way to run from him. If he’s truly what he says he is, there’s no chance in this world that you can stop him. You’re going to die, and the strange way in which your brain accepts the inevitable is more calming than petrifying.

You never knew you’d be able to prepare for it like this, but here you are. Waiting for it. Accepting it. And when you feel the air of his body shift down to you, right up against your neck, you squeeze your eyes shut and hold your breath.

His cold hand tilts your face and all you can do is anticipate as you feel his teeth graze the abused and swollen marks there.

Here it is.

You inhale deeply, hoping that if there’s an afterlife, this last breath will be a good memory for you until–

A kiss.

He kisses the wounds. He licks them. He nuzzles his cold nose against them, and then he pulls out of you and lays directly on top of you.

It’s silent as you lay here, still trying to prepare to fucking die and he’s just prolonging it?

“Get it over with.” You gripe, frustration dripping out in your weak voice.

It’s laughable, really, that you’ll sound so argumentative and petty over the loss of your life. So laughable that even he’s chuckling about it, right against your ear with no breath fanning against your skin.

“Get what over with, darling?” He asks, not having felt this drowsy drained state in so long.

Your mind is racing though, seemingly trying to think of everything that has ever happened in your life onto everything you wish still could happen, only to consistently land on the fact that you don’t want to believe what’s happening.

You know very well the denial you’re forcing yourself into, even in the face of demise, you don’t want to believe any of this.

“I still can’t believe that you’re— No,” You dead-pan before taking in a terrified breath, still keeping your eyes closed. “They’re not real.”

“I’m very, very real.” Sunghoon argues back, infatuated with the denial you try to keep. “You know that I am.”

“So, you have to kill me then?” Your voice gets smaller as you accept the truth little by little, your breath shakier. “Fucking get it over with then, stop trying to savor it, it’s not like I can run now, right?”

You still like the way he laughs, so breathy despite having no breath of his own. And through that laugh, he lends another kiss before you feel all of that weight lift from you and dip onto the bed next to you instead.

“Don’t beg for it.” Sunghoon warns, pulling away from you and forcing his instinct to remember the release of the orgasm he just had. “I won’t be able to stop myself if you ask me so prettily.”

You pause, your eyes opening against your will as you look at him. He’s facing away from you, but you can see the damp blood drying in the strands of his hair. Your eyes trail down, a puddle of blood staining nearly the entire lower half of the bed and it’s still dripping out of you.

Or perhaps, that’s whatever it is he fucking shoved into you and fucked out of himself.

“None of this is happening.” You say to yourself. “I did not just fuck a vampire.”

“You’re right.” He comments with another laugh. “A vampire just fucked you.”

Well. You’re still not ready to believe that. Even with the absence of heat, even with the lack of breathing.

“Prove it.” You ask, unsure as to why you’re wanting it both to be real and just a dream.

You back away when he immediately does as he’s asked. Turning to you and crawling over you. There, he lowers his body, chest to your cheek.

“Listen.” He says, reaching to hold your face and press it up and against his chest. “Anything?”

You wait, listening for a thump, anything to prove he’s wrong. Fucking any sound at all to blow his cover.

You’re frozen as you listen, your body going into fight or flight as the seconds turn to minutes. Unfortunately, your body is not a fighter, nor a flier. You’re stuck with his hand on your cheek, holding you so tightly against something you wish was alive.

A little thump, thump, thump could be the most relieving sound to you, but no. There’s nothing.

You pull away from him now, body still frozen but head running a mile a minute. How many proofs does he need to provide for you to understand that it’s not fantasy?

And finally, you feel your body jerk away from him on its own. He’s startled by the movement and you use that short second to roll off of the bed. You do your best to stand, but your brain immediately pulses in pain. Your vision goes fuzzy, dizzy.

Right, you’ve lost a lot of blood tonight. To think your toes aren’t still numb, to think you’d be able to stand without dropping to the ground.

“Thousands of years.” Sunghoon stands quickly, stalking over you and wrapping his arms around you. There, he presses you back on the bed and straddles your hips. “I’ve never told another soul and let them live to remember it– until you.”

You shake under him, the weight feeling more dead now than it ever has. He’s heavy as he holds you down, but somehow his grip on you is gentle. His voice is soft. His eyes are hesitant. He’s not holding you here to hurt you, it seems.

“My love, I told you time and time again,” He glances away from you, feeling something within him shrivel at the thought that now you’re unwilling. “Is it different now? To find that I’ve told no lies to you?”

Still, he soothes you as you try to comprehend reality. You think hard through the dizzy fog of blood-loss, running more with your mind than your body. He did tell you. And you’re still alive. He just drank and drank from you, and you’re still alive.

He came to your apartment, he told you he smelled you.

He’s never lied.

You just refused to listen.

He drank you, he fucked you, he held you, and now he’s holding you.

“I don’t want you to fear me.” Sunghoon admits with sad eyes, trying to ignore how long it’s been since he’s felt sad at all.

So many emotions you force him to feel, this was not one he was looking forward to.

“How can I not be afraid?” You breathe out in slurred speech, as if to mock him, because you now know that he truly can’t do it himself.

“It’s too late to be afraid.” He says apologetically. “You’d have died weeks ago had I wanted it.”

Why are you still falling in love with his voice? With his stupid grammar, and his horrifying dead-skin? Even with the fear in your stomach, why does this make your heart flutter?

“I’ve never felt so full,” He admits now, releasing his grip on you slowly. He can smell your heart slow, knowing you’re starting to calm now. “Until now.”

You stare up at him as your eyes recover back to clear vision, in awe of how gentle a killer is being with you. Inspecting the way he’s drenched in your blood, yet you truly still are breathing. He could have killed you time and time again.

But he didn’t.

He’s never once lied to you about what he is, and still you struggle to believe what he says. Even when his words match his actions. Sure, he’s a vampire, but he’s not going to kill you?

What reason do you have to believe him save for the blatant truth behind it? Do you want to believe him? Would you rather be dead?

He knows you can’t fathom the truth so quickly though, and that’s why he’s being gentle. He has nothing more than patience to give to you, if it’ll end in your acceptance anyway. The fact that he can hear your heart beating correctly again only gives him hope that he’s right about not having killed you on the first night.

After all, he truly hasn’t lied to you. Never has he felt full, even after killing several a night. Always hungry, always thirsty, always needing more and more of the syrupy life strangers offer to him under his lure. But you. Entirely aware, flowing with blood that drives him crazy…you’ve managed to fill that desire in him.

Why should he lie to you? Why would he kill you if there is no need? Despite fighting the instinct, he’s satiated by you. His cold body warms with yours. He will never get enough of you, so how on earth could he just…take that away from himself?

And you do stop fighting. In fact, you lay with him in a bloodied mess and sleep. Despite wanting to ask questions, wondering if he can even sleep at all. Your body is tired, your mind is still petrified, and your hands still cling to the source of it, unsure if you’ll make it to morning at all.

Still, somehow, this feels holy.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

PART TWO Fanart by @a-the-na 🖤🖤🖤🖤

#enhypen smut #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut

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norrisainz33 · 4 months ago

Text

Cover girl || LS2

☆ summary: logan’s dating a rather famous singer who isn’t your typical wag

☆ pairing: logan sargeant x reader

☆ fc & warnings: billie eilish and suggestive with mild haters. you are responsible for the content you consume

☆ requested: yes!! i’m sorry this has taken so long. thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has made a post

liked by logansargeant, yourbff, ynupdates, alex_albon, yoursibling, arianagrande and 987,213 others

ynuser: life’s been real good recently

view all 922 comments

user1: LOGAN SPOTTED

user2: mother is mothering so hard

user3: still gutted that she’s dating that man

user4: and i’m gutted he’s dating her 🤢

user3: nah i know you didn’t disrespect her like that

yourbff: give me my hat back!!!!

ynuser: no :) it’s mine now! hope this helps

ynupdates: new music when?!

logansargeant: my baby girl 🤤

ynuser: my baby boy

user4: logan blink twice if you need help

user3: YOU need help user4

user5: i was at that show!! you slayed so hard, i sobbed my eyes out

user6: no it was literally everything i love her. did you see someone who looked like logan dancing around in the vip section or was it just me

user5: NO I SAW HIM TOO BUT I WASNT SURE

user6: ugh i love them

logansargeant has posted to his story

view all story replies

ynuser: omg what a great story logan!

logansargeant: yea i wonder who posted it 🙄

ynuser: wrong answer

logansargeant: best content i’ve ever posted 😍😍😍 prettiest girl in the whole wide world 🤤🤤🤤🤤

ynuser: better 😘

user99: y/n/n not dressing like a teenage boy challenge failed

lilymhe: y/n!!!!!!!!! 🤍🤍🤍🤍

logansargeant: lilllyyyyyyy!!!!! - y/n/n

ynupdates: our girl 🫶🏻

alex_albon: when u coming to a race fr

logansargeant: the second im allowed to physically fight will**ms - y/n/n

alex_albon: whelp fair enough… guess i’m not seein ya

logansargeant: are you guys not coming to my show in milan anymore?! -y/n

alex_albon: we are im just being dramatic

user20: how logan bagged this baddie…. i will never know

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logansargeant: another race weekend in the books! p.s swipe for a surprise

view all 258 comments

user22: solid race weekend logie bear

user2: sargenation loves you so very much logan, i hope you know that

ynuser: he does bb 🫶🏻

user2: ogmgogmogkgogmgbakfg YAY

ynuser: vroom vroom 🤤

logansargeant: let’s ride 😏

user20: charli mentioned 🫨

user43: y/n i’m begging you to make an appearance in the paddock

user34: the paddock could never handle the brilliance of y/n plus i think she’d have words with j****

user43: and i’m absolutely begging her to tell the lot of them off 😭😫

oscarpiastri: solid surprise! thanks for sharing!

logansargeant: 🤔

ynuser: osc are you still mad at me for taking your girl out on a date?

oscarpiastri: 🙄 no

user18: 🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅

user52: so close to loints! we are proud of you logan

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ynuser: surprise! i’m on the cover of vogue and my new album comes out in exactly 1 month from today 🤍

view all 999 comments

user22: i am looking 🫣 respectfully

user54: holy moly i knew she was a baddy but WOW

lilyzneimer: hottest vogue cover i’ve ever seen

ynuser: it’d be hotter if you were on it

user33: i am better than no man

user55: logan sergeant you lucky lucky lucky man

sabrinacarpenter: i think im in love with you

ynuser: 🤭 don’t make me blush

logansargeant: my girl is gorgeous god damn

ynuser: your girl 🤍

logansargeant: i cant wait for everyone to hear your new music baby

ynupdates: this is not a drill !!! i repeat this is not a drill!!! we are getting new music!

user54: and you been hidin allat????

erling.haaland: 😍

user66: now what in the world are you doing here erling

user55: the duality of this woman is insane

logansargeant has posted to their story

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lilymhe: yes

lilyzneimer: yes

yourbff: yes

iamrebeccad: yes

user23: my god yes wtf

user85: yea 😔

alex_albon: MY EYES 😭

logansargeant: stop looking at my girlfriend!!!

alex_albon: mate you were the one who posted it

logansargeant: blah blah blah

user38: damn she is eating this up

ynupdates: i’m not sure if i want to be her or you more but yes i am jealous

ynuser has made a post

liked by logansargeant, yourbff, lilymhe, ynupdates, sabrinacarpenter, landonorris, and 1,234,019 others

ynuser: award szn with my best friend 🤍

view all 978 comments

user77: i feel like im interrupting something with that second pic

user66: that dress is absolutely gorgeous

lilymhe: very demure, very cutesy, very mindful

ynuser: you get me

logansargeant: black looks good on you but i look better 😏

ynuser: you know it 😍

alex_albon: get a room 😭

ynupdates: mother you amaze me. the body is tea

troyesivan: you are my idol

ynuser: stop it bb you’re mine

user55: serving BODY

julianalvarez: hermosa

user88: ok ms girl is in her serving body era i see

user99: i love you both so dearly

logansargeant has made a post

liked by ynuser, yourbff, iamrebeccad, alex_albon, kyle_kirkwood, oscarpiastri, landonorris and 445,123 others

logansargeant: summer break vibes

view all 342 comments

user87: mr americana

user66: forever jealous about how logan gets to see a different side of y/n than all of us

kyle_kirkwood: hot boy summer

logansargeant: you know it

alex_albon: why aren’t you texting me back

logansargeant: man i texted you back a couple days ago

user43: logan sargeant the man that you are

user68: loints incoming , mans is well rested and happy

ynuser: my favorite frat boy

logansargeant: 😉

user98: logan being happy is all that i ever wanted

ynupdates: thanks for the y/n content logan!! you will forever be my favorite vroom vroom guy

user46: RAHHHHHH. so excited for you to race again after summer break!!

ynuser has added to their story

view all story replies

user2: thank you for the sign of life y/n

user87: we miss him so much already

user27: where he goes we go

kyle_kirkwood: i hope you both join us in milwaukee this weekend 🫶🏻

alex_albon: i love you both no matter what

user37: i’m glad he’s got you

lilyzneimer: sending lots of love my dear

ynupdates: we love you logan. y/nnation is behind you every step of the way and is riding at dawn to take down will**ms

oscarpiastri: take care of him

user65: sargenation stands by logan no matter what

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! i’ve been struggling with writers block and have lost steam but will do my best to keep getting through the requests!! also i am gutted for logan , i miss him already

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

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boiohboii · 1 year ago

Text

The Spaniard's Wife (Carlos Sainz x wife!reader)

Inspired by @charles-eclair16 's fic

Carlos Sainz had a secret for the past 9 years, but when he forgot to take off the one thing that can reveal everything, everyone has questions

in which Carlos let's everyone know that the rumors, in fact, are true

masterlist

N.B: didn't turn out how I wanted but I've been rewriting it multiple times and I think this is the best option, hope you like it...WARNINGS: swear words a lot, not proof read, spelling mistakes and really bad photoshop tbh, if I missed anything please let me know!

Faceclaim: Emeraude Toubia

Liked by Charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, landonorris and 910,583 others

Carlossainz55: my wife and I have been friends for 20 years, we have been lovers for 13 of those years, engaged for 2 and married for 9. I have never been sure of much, but I am sure that I love her with my entire heart, I will always love her. I have known yn since before I could even dream of being an f1 driver, what happened in that one interview was disrespectful and just disgusting. No one has any right to speak any ill word of my wife, you don't know her and you never will, as long as she doesn't want you to. I will do everything for her, for her happiness, her comfort and for her ease of mind.

landonorris: tell yn I miss her!

Carlossainz55: leave her alone

landonorris: I'll tell her that you're rude to me

Carlossainz55: she's my wife!

landonorris: yeah yeah, you never let us forget it

username: yn been here since day 0 apparently, can't fight her now

username: YES!! CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS!

username: I want dts to make a reincarnation of their love story

username: we need a spinoff

username: yes! It'd be so cute

username: I can't imagine 16 year old carlos realising he is in love with his friend

username: she is every man's wet dream

-this comment has been removed-

username: she looks so pretty wtf

username: she's looks like a doll

username: wish i looked like that at 20 years old

username: her dress is phenomenal

username: this screams money

username: 2 different cars for a wedding

username: the third slide, holy shit

username: I wouldn't be surprised if the last 2 pictures are carlos' or her house, like holy fuck

username: both scream rich

username: mum used to say rich people look it and I never gave it much thought until I saw carlos sainz and now his wife

username: did y'all see the picture that one twitter user took? Their outfits looked so fucking good

username: YES! I SAW IT! I could never afford a thread on either outfit!

username: did you guys see her hair! It looks so thick and healthy

username: fr!

username: I want a wedding like that!

username: I want a husband like that!

username: I want a wife like that!

username: I love how he is not in one single picture 💀😂

Liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, Pierregasly and 1,209,316 others

Carlossainz55: 10 years since i was able to call you wife, and I will never get tired of letting everyone know that. I am in love with you, forever and always.

Charles_leclerc: simp

Carlossainz55: I don't know what that means

landonorris: ikr, it's laughable man @.Charles_leclerc

Charles_leclerc: don't pretend like you're not the same with your girl @.landonorris

username: damn charles really coming for everyone's neck today

username: bet charles is the biggest simp of them

username: he really making us feel lonely as hell huh

username: 10 fucking years, Holy shit!

username: no cause if I had yn by my side I too would be in fucking love

username: don't embarrass yourself, everyone knows you're in love without her by your side

username: I didn't ask to be attacked like that wtf

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #f1 #carlos sainz social media au #carlos sainz smau #carlos sainz instagram edit #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz twitter au #carlos sainz x yn #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz #carlos sainz wife #carlos sainz x wife! reader #carlos sainz jr

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halsteadlover · 11 months ago

Text

𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝

*Gif and pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: Lando always has a hard time trying to keep his hands off you, not even while attending an important event.

• Warnings: dirty talking, lots of swearing, oral sex (m. receiving), semi public sex.

• Word count: 2453.

• A/N: PLEASE READ THIS ONLY IF YOU’RE +18. This was supposed to be like a 700 words piece but I’m incapable to write short fics but y’all know this by now lmao. I hope you like this piece, I was inspired to write for Lando so here it is. Please comment, like and reblog, it’d be amazing ❤️ Thank you for your support xx

You were going crazy.

His hand continued to caress your exposed thighs beneath the table, his expert fingers drawing imaginary circles on your hot skin.

They went up along your inner thigh, until they almost caressed your private parts, but before touching you as you desired, his fingers descended back down, leaving you even more irritated and lustful than before.

Asshole.

“God I want you so much baby, you have no idea how much I want to tear this dress off of you,” he whispered in your ear so sensually it made your insides explode, causing a rush of shivers down your spine and made you clench your legs.

“I can’t stop thinking about how wet you must be right now, how easily you’d suck my dick in your sweet little cunt. I’m so hard just thinking about it.” He gave a cast kiss on your flushed cheek, making you choke on the champagne you were drinking and gaining weird and worried looks from the people around the table.

Holy fuck.

You were in fact at the annual FIA gala, the event swarming with famous people, all the drivers with their respective partners but even so Lando didn’t seem to care less.

He was only focused on you, forgetting his surroundings.

He needed to touch you, always, constantly. He needed to feel you, to always have a hand on your body.

And how could anyone blame him?

Lando couldn’t normally keep his hormones at bay but seeing you in that damn dress with that slit, he could barely function and take his eyes off of you. He pretended to have a conversation with Carlos, but in reality he wasn’t listening to a single word his teammate was saying, being too focused on keeping his hard dick at bay.

He tried to hold back the smirk that threatened to appear on his face when you squeezed your thighs together, trapping his hand between them and preventing him from moving it.

“Babe you okay?” He murmured in your ear at one point, turning his attention towards you. He always had that damn smile on his face, that smirk so damn sexy you wanted nothing more than to get on your knees under the table and not care about anything else.

“Lando, you’re driving me crazy. Stop it,” you retorted through gritted teeth, in a low voice so that no one at the table would hear what you were talking about with your boyfriend.

Lando chuckled and removed the hand he had on your thigh and caressed your face with it, then resting it on your partially bare back. “But I’m not doing anything princess.”

“Oh you know damn well what you’re doing and you have to stop,” you repeated, but in the meantime feeling your cheeks burning and the heat running through your body.

Had the temperatures suddenly risen?

Or were you just horny?

Probably the second option.

“I can’t help it princess, you look so fucking hot in this dress,” he whispered, making you smile and your pussy clench at the same time.

And the fact he looked so damn sexy in that suit, so good you just wanted to rip his clothes with your teeth didn’t help make things particularly easy. If Lando struggled not to constantly touch you, you weren’t so different. You couldn’t help it, you couldn’t resist him even if you tried and it certainly wasn’t your fault.

It was his fault sex oozed from every single fucking pore of his body.

“I’m already hard as rock right now, you’re not helping if you keep looking at me like that.” His voice caught your attention again, not realizing you were mesmerized by looking at him and running your hungry eyes over his body.

“I’m not looking at you in any way baby, you just look very, very handsome in this outfit.” You seductively battled your lashes. You printed a kiss on his cheek, making your lips slight caress his earlobe. “And very, very fuckable.”

“Fucking hell,” he breathed out, about to combust.

You then placed a hand on his cheek, eagerly wanting to have some physical contact with him It didn’t matter if it was an arm, a hand, or his face, you needed to touch him. His skin was particularly hot and the way his pupils were dilated told you to everything you needed to know.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he admonished you, even though he didn’t want you to stop at all, he just wanted to avoid fucking you on that table in front of everyone.

“Too bad baby, two can play this game.” The little smirk on your painted lips made his legs go numb and it was enough for you to give him a small kiss on the lips, innocent and apparently chaste, to make him completely lose his mind.

“You’re looking at me like you want me to fuck you right here and now.” He wet his lips with his tongue, alternating his gaze between your eyes and mouth.

You nonchalantly shrugged your shoulders. “Maybe I do want you to fuck me right here and now.”

This marked the breaking point for Lando, who at that point lost all judgment and didn’t care that the awards ceremony was about to begin.

“Meet me in the bathroom.” Was all he said before getting up and walking away without even giving you time to respond. You tried to suppress a giggle, every cell in your body twitching in anticipation.

“Woah where is Lando going so fast?” Carlos had asked, turning to you with a confused expression.

“In the bathroom, I think all the water he drank is having an effect,” you replied, meanwhile thinking of an excuse to get up from the table too.

“I’m going to get something to drink.” It was the first thing that crossed your mind, not caring about the confused looks of the others at the table.

“How much you wanna bet they’re gonna fuck in the bathroom?” Daniel announced, sparking laughter from everyone on the table. “God those two go on like rabbits, it’s embarrassing.”

But there was nothing closer to the truth than what Daniel said. You and Lando wanted each other a lot, it was no secret, and your sex life was more than active and intense.

That’s why, you found yourself pressed against the men’s bathroom sink, the door locked and Lando’ body pressed against yours as the two of you kissed with hunger and passion.

His hands, now resting on your cheeks, began to wander down your body, squeezing your breasts, your hips, his fingers pressed deep into your skin.

“Fuck I want you so bad baby,” you murmured as you broke away to take a breath. But he didn’t leave you any respite, his lips had started licking and nibbling your neck, in that precise point where he knew it drove you crazy.

“Shit,” he hissed through his teeth as you began palming the crotch of his pants, feeling him rock hard under your hand.

“Already so hard for me huh?” You whispered sensually, sighing as you unbuttoned his pants and pulled them and his boxers down enough to release his dick.

“Darling I’ve been hard for you since I saw you in this damn dress.” He cupped his hands over your breasts, squeezing and groping them over your dress, making you sigh. He slipped the straps of your dress revealing and you felt him twitch in your hand as you jerked him off, his eyes looking at you with hunger and desperation. “I’m always so hard for you. God you’re gorgeous.”

“Fuck yes…” He moaned loudly and you covered his mouth with your free hand.

“Shh you don’t want anyone to hear us, do you my love?”.

He slightly shook his head, feeling like he was already at his limit just from the way you were looking at him. You removed your hand and he placed his on your face, looking straight into your eyes as your hand continued to move up and down on his dick.

“That’s my good boy.”

He almost came from that sentence alone.

His thumb traced the outline of your lips with which you wasted no time and wrapped them around his digit, always keeping your eyes on him. His gaze was fixed on your lips, the way your cheeks hollowed out to suck on his thumb and you knew where his mind was wandering.

He almost had a heart attack when he saw you kneel in front of him, a smile printed on your lips now devoid of any trace of lipstick and lip gloss.

A loud moan escaped his lips when you stuck your tongue out and traced a long line along his shaft, starting from the base up to the tip where you paused for a few moments while you tasted the saltiness of the precum.

“Shit…” He panted like he was running a marathon, his chest rising and falling quickly. “Stop teasing me.”

“Oh you mean like you did all night?” I retorted with sassy.

“Please baby, please… I need this pretty little mouth…” He begged you, stroking your no longer styled hair with one hand. “I need to fuck this mouth so bad…”

“You look so cute when you beg so desperately for me darling.” You took his dick completely into your mouth, leaving him no room for response and completely taking the air and breath out of his lungs.

He threw his head back, trying to concentrate on not letting himself get too loud since you were still in a public bathroom. But it was hard, so damn hard when your mouth took him so perfectly, when your lips kept sliding back and forth, up and down on his hard dick.

“Shit, shit, fuck yes keep going… Oh yes just like that…” he groaned, gripping your hair in a fist and intensifying the movements of his hips. His tip kept hitting deep into your throat, making you gag and almost choke on it, your eyes watering.

“So pretty… My girl is so fucking pretty while she is on her knees taking me in her mouth so damn well…”

You continued to squeeze your legs with desire, hoping in some way to relieve the tension and desire that made you clench your pussy. Your eyes never left his face, thoroughly enjoying that feeling of being able to make him lose his mind in that way.

You felt immense enjoyment, a rush of euphoria flowed through your veins seeing his face contracted in pleasure, hearing those moans, sighs and pants that only you could give him, and even if he was fucking your mouth without mercy you could’ve even choked to death and you would’ve been the happiest woman in the world.

One of your hands was resting on his hairy bare thigh, your nails pressed into his skin while the other encircled the base of his dick, helping where your mouth couldn’t reach.

“Fuck baby your mouth feels like heaven… Oh my god…” he gasped. “You drive me crazy.”

Suddenly the sound of someone banging on the door startled both of you. You took advantage of that moment to catch your breath, but continued to slide your hand up and down his cock wet with your saliva.

“O-occupied!” Lando exclaimed, swallowing a groan and trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible while his eyes were fixed on you.

God you were so beautiful.

“Hurry up!” The voice replied from the other side of the door and you both breathed a sigh of relief when you heard footsteps walking away. You let out a laugh, but it was interrupted when you started licking his wet dick again, wrapping your lips around his particularly red and sensitive tip and focusing on it as you continued to pleasure him with your hand.

Lando swore he saw stars for a moment, letting out a particularly loud moan and feeling like he was going to explode at any moment. “Oh fuck yeah princess just like that…”

Without leaving you any escape, Lando pushed himself into your mouth again, keeping his grip on your hair, using you as if you were his own doll.

But you didn’t care, on the contrary, you loved the way he used you and always did what he wanted with you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he groaned, moving his hips and making you gag on his dick again, too carried away by the pleasure and euphoria to be able to think clearly. You levered yourself on his thigh, your nails pressed so hard into his skin you feared for a moment you’d leave any permanent mark “Ah shit… I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming… Fuuuck.”

With one final forceful thrust, his hot, salty cum filled your mouth and you wasted no time swallowing it, not particularly enjoying the taste.

“Holy shit I think I’m gonna die,” he sighed in ecstasy, his mouth half open as he tried to catch his breath.

You giggled and started to get up when you felt his hands on your hips helping you to your feet and before you could do anything he kissed you, tasting himself on your lips. You immediately deepened the kiss, circling his neck and threading your hands into his hair, not being able to resist for a minute longer.

“You’re so fucking beautiful love, what do I have to do with you? You make me lose my mind,” he whispered against your lips, then losing himself for a moment looking at you. It wasn’t an exaggeration but you were truly breathtaking. Especially in that moment with your lips swollen due to the amazing blowjob you had just given him, your cheeks red and lined with mascara running from your eyes. God, he couldn’t wait to be buried deep inside you.

“For starters you could fuck me properly Mr Norris.”

He chuckled and you let out a disappointed sigh when he slightly pulled away from you, immediately feeling an empty, cold feeling inside you. He cleaned himself before putting his pants and underwear back on.

“How are you feeling my love? Was I too rough?” He then asked, cupping his hands over your face and removing the traces of mascara with his thumbs as best he could.

You shook your head. “Oh God no baby, it was amazing. You know I love it when you’re rough.”

He gave you a kiss on the lips, so sweet and in contrast to the words he was about to say. “Good baby because now we’re going home and I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit down for the next few days.”

And man, had he kept his promise.

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pokegalla · 11 months ago

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Requested/traded by @veiled-rebel

I actually forgot about this one??? Well fuck it. Part 2 but whole different fandom-

Angel Dust and Husk with a crazy rich S/o who loves spoiling them

Angel Dust:

* Oh he knew you were rich honey, let’s be honest. You got the cash, he’ll flirt and get some after a quick fuck. A win win scenario. At least….that was his initial intentions. But damn he actually started liking you. You were….different to say the least. You both exchanged numbers and the rest is history✨

* He had his guard up when you kept spoiling him. Did you want another favor? Did you need something from him? No? Just a gift? He’s not used to so much gifts without expecting bad news attached to it. He might need some time to get used to it…..(constant reassurance really helps too!)

* Once he’s more comfortable, he’ll happily wear the outfits you picked out for him! Even on the outings to the mall or fancy restaurants! But honestly nothing makes him feel more comfortable with you than you giving him so much freedom as well. You gave him your credit card?! To buy anything he wants?! That’s a major trust thing holy shit- he almost feels like he’s using you. But your reassurance makes him feel at ease.

* He’s never felt this loved before….and he’s got you to thank.

Mini story time!!!

You watched as the spider demon came downstairs. Your face flushed as you saw him wearing the dress you had bought that was custom made just for him. He chuckled and closed your jaw that was hanging low from shock.

“Gonna attract flies hun,” he chuckled, a little flattered at your reaction as well.

“Heh….i hope I’m attracting your kisses too,” You answer back with a playful grin.

Angel giggled a little, “Keep that up and you’ll be attracting MUCH more tonight~” You both share a kiss and walk out together, hand in hand with no shame as all of hell watched you too. You didn’t mind what they said. What mattered was him and his happiness.

That was enough for you❤️

Husk:

* He knew instantly you were a rich kinda person. As a bartender, he picks up on stuff like this all the time. He actually didn’t like you at first. Thought you were some kind of showboat. But you did shock him when you said you were more focused on him than anything else. He was a tough nut to crack but after many visits to his bar and getting to know each other, he FINALLY gave you a chance.

* Spoiling this lil shit was HARD. He didn’t like a lot of things. But you did get his favorite booze. And booze of all kinds. He actually was impressed by how much you knew but told you not to spoil him so much- but his favorite gift was a cute bow tie you got for him. He wears it to special events✨

* You really do try to respect his wishes on not spoiling him but seeing him look so exhausted after a long day of dealing with crap at his bar? Oh you HAVE to do something! So slick little you actually decided on the perfect date! A date to the spa! You never seen him get so relaxed before! Thoooough he did figure out you were trying to spoil him again…but this time he won’t complain✨

* He finds it hard to argue when you look so happy…..

Mini story time!!!

“Yah think yah reeeeal slick don’tcha?” Husk said suddenly while sipping his martini.

CURSES- he’s figured it out already?! You had JUST finished the massages! Oh damn here comes the scolding….huh? Wait he’s giving you a headpat?

“I’ll hand it to yah. I didn’t even realize it. I’ll let yah get away with this one…..” He grumbled a bit.

Your eyes sparkles, “HAH!!! FUCK YEAH!!!”

He actually smiles a little as he sees you practically glowing, so happy that you spoiled him. You were so weird…..

Fuck he loves you-❤️

#my writing #funny #cute #fluffy headcanons #hazbin hotel #angel dust x reader #husk x reader #x reader headcanons #reader is gender neutral

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pearlzier · 5 months ago

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────⠀ ⠀nerd!matt x meangirl!reader hcs 'n' stuff

☆ currently obsessed with meangirl!reader i love her. this is very inspired by @tiny_tobasco on tiktok's 'mean' girls girl series shes so meangirl!reader and i got inspired so hard. sfw n nsfw under the cut

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ you two only met properly, before all of the tutoring sessions, when at some party. matt didn't actually know how he got there, well, he did, chris had dragged him there. however, he didn't know why he'd decided to stay. he regrets it especially when some frat guys start making fun of him. he's not completely helpless, he stands his ground, but there's a lot of them and chris is nowhere in sight

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ he's absolutely shitting himself when he sees you come over—assuming you're going to laugh at him with the frat guys. doesn't stop the huge crush he has on you however. the look of your glossy, plump lips tugged into a frown as you walk over, your heels clicking against the floor and the way your little dress clings to the swell of your tits. honestly, he kinda forgets about the insults 'till he snaps back into things.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ "can you guys shut the fuck up, jesus christ," he's surprised at the fact you're not talking to him, but at them. his eyes drop to your arms folded under your chest before your face. "like, get over yourselves. your little boner party is like, not it. leave him alone, god,"

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ your habit of saying 'like' in every sentence never really went away, but he liked it. it was so you. you talked, a lot, hence the amount of filler words you needed. he's surprised you haven't even started debate club because you'd absolutely win every debate.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ matt's surprised by how flustered the guys get, at how much power you have over them. but honestly, if you spoke to him like that, he'd get completely flustered too. he already is, the stern tone in your voice making his dick stir in his pants. he's mid adjust when you turn to him, and he blinks, getting flustered himself. damn it. "thanks—"

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ "i didn't know you," you're chewing bubble gum, head cocking to the side a little as your eyes rake over him. "but i do now," you pop, obnoxiously to anyone else but endearing to him, "so hi." he's smitten. "you're staring."

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ "sorry," he apologises immediately, not wanting you to think he's a creep or anything. you blink, not saying much, before you laugh, "it's okay. people do it a lot." yeah, he's sure they do. "like, yeah. um. you want a drink?" you, you, offering him a drink. holy shit, he needs to take a lap.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ he didn't think you guys would talk after that. but, somehow, you did. it was a little indirect at first since it came through chris, but he basically talked to you, right? he was in his dorm room, when chris bursts in, stood at the door. "dude, knocking? it's a thing? read about it?" chris doesn't pay much attention to his brother's words, not really. "don't wanna hear about your hypotheses, but okay." matt rolls his eyes. but when chris mentions your name, his interest is piqued almost immediately.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ "me? she was talking about me?" he's shitting himself. chris doesn't seem all that fussed, as he continues, "uh, yeah, she wanted you to tutor her or something," matt deflates a tiny bit, since maybe that meant you just wanted to get your grades up and didn't really wanna be his friend, or something more. but he thinks back to the night you two met and how much fun you two had, so he's down to see what happens.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ little did he know he literally would never get rid of you after that. he's literally stuck with you forever now

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ everyone thinks you're a total bitch (you lowkey are, but only when it calls for it) but matt sees you for more. honestly he feels the only reason people think you're mean at first glance is your resting bitch face, bluntness and inability to hold conversation. like—you're an absolute sweetheart sometimes and no one but matt, and by proxy his friends, know that.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ he's just. used to you by now. if he wakes up in the middle of the night and feels you beside him he's gonna assume you're back from a night out and just forgot where your dorm is. matt just draws you in and rests his head against your chest, not thinking twice about it. similarly, if he wakes up and you're in the kitchen for god knows what reason, he just wanders out and stands there for a minute. "girl dinner," you tell him, and he just nods, padding back to the bed.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ matt's also used to being dragged to your little brunches with your girls. he's just there because you asked him to be, he hasn't really got any business being there.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ "baby! her bestfriend got with her ex," you tell him, as he's scrolling through his phone sat beside you at the table.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ "cut her off, bad friend," he says, without looking up from his phone. you nod in agreement with him, a soft, "mhm," coming from your lips before you and your friend continue with the conversation.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ you're a really attentive listener, contrary to what many may think. you stare blankly at matt the entire time he's rambling about a new game that came out, and he thinks you're not interested, so he stops. the moment he does, you speak up, "no, continue," he hesitates before he does, and when he sees the faint shift in your expression, a softening, he gets back into it

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ matt's always proud of you like after he started tutoring you your grades went up by a lot and he eventually realised he didn't need to tutor you anymore. and then he realised you didn't need tutoring a while back and just acted like you didn't know some things on purpose so he'd hang out with you. he really needed to give you more credit for that one.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ GOSSIPING. matt loves to chat shit with you !!!! he's had all these opinions and thoughts he's kept to himself this entire time about the meathead frat boys you hung out with sometimes and the vapid sorority girls you were friends with and he finally gets to share them with someone. he knows you'll never tell anyone, plus, you agree with everything he says anyway. "yeah, she actually hates him. she's with him for a bet."

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ "a bet???" he's stunned, mouth agape. "yup," you nod, continuing with doing your makeup as you shrug, "and he's with her on a bet too, so like," he's learnt SO much shit about what goes on because of you <3

NSᅟᅟ꒰͡ ‎ ‎⭒۫ ‎ ‎ִ ‎ ‎͡꒱ᅟᅟFW

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ you were definitely his first for everything—which he's glad for. he knew things, of course, he's not helpless, he had just never done it before. you taught him things, helped explain that porn isn't even that accurate, and made sure he was confident in everything. he felt this bitter pang in his chest when hearing about the fact you'd kissed people before, he hates the idea of with anyone else however you quickly make him feel better

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ matt LOVES your titties like a lot. he's always been looking at them before, he knows, watching how your pretty clothes cling to your chest. or even your push up bras making it more obvious. but the moment he got to actually see them properly and even touch them, he melted almost immediately. you're so pretty, fuck, they're so soft and he could melt everytime he gets his hands on you

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ "what if you suffocate?" you ask, as he's mid boob smothering, resting his head against your chest. "fine with me," he mumbles, breath hot against your soft skin as he sighs into you. you shrug, running your fingers through his dark hair

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ started out as nervous and anxious but slowly grew into the whole sex thing. he's more confident in himself now, taking the lead a little bit more.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ loves watching his dick slide in and out of your wet hole, the pretty sounds that escape you and the pretty sounds of your pussy with each thrust of his hips. you look so good like this, on the bed beneath him. the way your tits bounce with each cant of his hips. "you look so pretty, oh my god, so, so pretty, fuck, shit, oh,"

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ matt's a rambler when he fucks you, unable to stay quiet. he makes the sweetest sounds, whimpering, whining and moaning at the feel of your tight heat around his cock and he sure as hell praises you like crazy. you're so, so damn gorgeous and he's so amazed that he even gets to have you like this

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ despite how confident he's grown, you can always get him to melt into a mess by just a little bit of teasing. "please, plea—please, oh my god, wanna.. i've been good, promise.." he hiccups his words out softly, eyes falling down to your hand pumping his cock rapidly. "i know, baby, i know. doing so good for me, wanna come? you're gonna come for me?" he doesn't even care how condescending you're being, he just wants to be good for you, and to feel good himself.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ "gonna come for you," he pants shakily, feeling that familar heat coil in his lower tummy as he grasps tightly at the bed beneath him. he feels his thighs trembling and shaky till he finally comes, white ropes of cum spurting from his tip and coating his stomach. he whines shakily, grasping at your thighs almost immediately to draw you in closer and press his lips to yours, whimpering shakily against your mouth.

────⠀ ⠀ @stevelacylovebot, @gloomy-ghoulz, @lovesickgrlsrh0t, @pkfferoo, @arixsturns, @blue-d, @cxokanna444, @deanscrush, @rvdhoods-wp

#𐙚˙ ana writes ⋆.˚#matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nerd!matt #nerd!matt sturniolo #meangirl!reader #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #੭ nerd!matt 𐂯 ° ｡ !!

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 3 months ago

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A shower of bastards

Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge, September 2024 edition

Prompt: shower, 399 words

Rated: T

Tags: Meet ugly; Bridal showers; Weddings; Stripper Steve; Partial nudity; Horny disaster Eddie Munson; Platonic Hellcheer

"I don't believe this," Eddie seethes, hammering on the locked bathroom door. "Goddamn strippers at a fucking bridal shower. Hey! I know you're in there! Come out or-”

The door opens. Eddie’s fist hits a very naked, very muscled, very oiled chest.

"Can I help you?"

Eddie’s gaze wanders past sun-bleached chest hair, a throat dotted in moles, a chiseled jawline, up to a smug smile adorning a pair of glossy lips, and holy shit, he’s gay.

“Hi, Gay,” say the lips. “I’m Steve.”

Fuck, he said that out loud.

“Hilarious,” Eddie barks, pushing past The Chest. Steve watches how he kicks the door shut. He’s dressed from the waist down, but the tight denim leaves little to the imagination. “I’m the- … Eddie.”

Steve’s perfect eyebrows disappear under his fringe. “The Eddie?”

Eddie tugs on his own hair. "That's my name, dumbass! Technically, I’m the maid of honor, except I’m a guy-”

“I believe the term is man of honor,” Steve provides. Eddie trails off. Damn, that makes a lot of sense. “You booked me, then? Y'know, it’s universally considered poor taste for a bridal shower. I usually-”

“I didn’t,” Eddie blurts, thinking that he’d book twenty Steves just for himself, if he could. “My best friend's day is ruined because one of her asshole fiancé’s asshole cousins thought this was a funny idea, and I swear if I find out which one of them it was, I’ll-”

“Okay,” Steve says, putting his hands on his hips. His stupidly tight shorts ride down. “Sounds like a lovely family.”

Eddie sighs dejectedly, slumping against the washbasin. “You have no fucking idea, man.”

Steve eyes him while he fumbles for his cigarettes, expression weirdly sympathetic.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

When Eddie blinks at him, he averts his gaze, oddly shy all of a sudden.

“I mean, I’ve been paid for the night, and I have a lot of second-hand experience with wedding drama, so …”

And Eddie has no idea what's gotten into him, but he's exhausted and helpless and angry, and this random guy is willing to listen. The way his chest glistens under the bathroom lights as he accepts one of Eddie’s cigarettes doesn't help, but it doesn't exactly hurt either.

And if he goes home with Steve's card tucked into his wallet? Well, he got one good thing out of this whole mess, at least.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficseptember #hype's microfics

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mimasroom2 · 5 months ago

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Love on top! ✧～(ゝᴗ ∂ )

Dealer!ellie x reader @ the mall

I’ve been thinking ab how Ellie would be a dealer and has some extra money to spoil her princess ♡

C/w: Not really any? Homophobia mentioned in like one sentence. Kinda suggestive but no smut. Sex toy mentioned like once. Marijuana mentioned like once (at the end). DINA MENTION FUCK YEAHHHH!!!!

W/c: 1k. sorry i just have a lot of thoughts😭

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

- Dealer!ellie who takes you to the mall whenever she feels like it. You never ask because you feel bad for her always spending money on you, but she lovesssssssss to do it.

- She would def buy you guys matching stuff.

- “Holy shit y/n… look at these!” Ellie turns around and has matching Sanrio plushies in both hands. You laugh bc she has them raised like how straight men pose with the fish they catch😭

- “Which one do you want, baby?”

- You pretend to think even though your absolute fav is cinnamoroll.

- She pumps a fist in the air, “FUCK YEAH I wanted pompompurin anyway!”

- She’d walk into any store and buy you guys those goofy ass tshirts that say shit like “I ♡ hot moms” because she gets a kick out of it every time.

- Don’t even get me started on how she’d be in Victoria’s Secret…

- She’d walk behind you with her hands in her pockets, biting her lip as you pick up the most absurdly hot set of bra & panties she’s ever seen.

- When you wanted to try everything on, she’d slip into the dressing room with you so you can have your turn spoiling her by giving her a little show

(˶ > ₃ < ˶)♡

- “Turn ‘round f’me, doll.” You always love how slurred her words get when she’s turned on 🙃 You do what you’re told and do a little twirl. She blushes and grabs your waist from behind, kissing your neck as you giggle looking at the two of you in the mirror.

- “Shit, baby. Gon’ have to buy this all for you so you can waltz around in pretty lingerie all the time.”

- As the two of you leave, she discreetly whispers in your ear “Gonna have to try those panties on for me tonight, mkay?”

- You’d wander into pandora or some fancy jewelry store and she’d be eyeing all the things you look at.

- “Ohmygodddd Ellieeeeee look at how beautiful this necklace is ahhhh!!” You squeal and eagerly point at it.

- “Hey babe, can you get us some auntie annes please?” Ellie smiles at you, “Need me some lemonade from how hot it is today.”

- As you walk away she stealthily buys the necklace you wanted :3. Chatting it up with the salesman n shit, bragging about you and how amazing of a girlfriend you are.

- She’s not afraid to do this bc she knows any homophobia she encounters she can shut down super quick. Perks of being hot and cool😍

- When you finally meet back up with her you’re smiling about the yummy pretzels you got, but your jaw drops when you see the pandora logo bag in her hand.

- You run over to her, “whattttt the fuckkkk Ellie? :0?”

- “Saw my pretty girl looking at it, so I jus’ had to see my pretty girl wearing it.” Is all she has to say in response (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭

- You gasp as she takes it out of the box, “For me?,!?,?,?!! Els, I told you, I don’t need any fancy stuff.”

- “Jus’ accept it, y/n. I like seein’ my princess happy.” She smiles as she puts it on for you :3

- You both sit down and DEVOUR those damn pretzels.

- (I’ve had this song stuck in my head the entire time writing this) The song Love On Top by Beyoncé starts playing, Ellie flashes you a wicked grin and takes your hands to stand the two of you up. The part that goes “You’re the one I love! You’re the one I need!” plays and she starts jumping around, moving your arms and giggling, not afraid to act like a goofball as long as it’s with you :,)

- If she saw anyone checking you out she’d tap her lips and say “cmere angel.” And give you a cute lil peck >:)

- You guys would walk into Spencer’s, give each other an evil look, and IMMEDIATELY run straight to the back.

- “Holy shit, babe there’s a fucking glow in the dark didlo.” You pretend to have your jaw drop as you wave Ellie over.

- She starts laughing wayyyyy harder than she should, “Whattthefuckkk that’s actually so fuckignfunny BAHAHAHA!”

- “Ellie it’s literally not that funny.” You’re not impressed.

- She gasps, trying to catch her breath, “No nonono no cuz imagine I’m fuckin’ you real good in the middle of the night. All the lights are off. And all you see is this damn glowing dick! Mannnn fuck.” You swear she wipes actual tears from her eyes.

- “Holy shit, do you think it would light up inside you?”

- You smack her on the shoulder 😭

- “Kay… that’s enough of Spencer’s…” you drag her by the hand out of there.

- “One more place I wanna go..” you keep dragging her by the hand.

- “Good.. cuz the malls ‘boutta close, princess.”

- Ellie smirks and scoffs as you guys walk into Claire’s. “Gonna get your clit pierced here or somethin’?”

- You go up to those merry-go-round display things and spin it until you find what you were looking for. “Nah, wanted one of these bad boys for Dina n I.” You show her one of those broken heart necklaces that come together to say best friends. She lets you pay for this one.

- At the end of your day Ellie walks the two of you out into the parking garage. It’s dark, so she pulls her hood up and hunches over to make herself appear more masculine. Not that it’s that dangerous or anything, but she’d probably never forgive herself if something happened to you - even the smallest scratch.

- As Ellie gets into her car, a SEXY ass truck might I add, she hands you a joint so you can relax as she drives you guys home ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

#ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #wlw #lesbian #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou #tlou2 #I’m actually gonna scream when is this gonna happen to me

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kooqitas · 9 months ago

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— sharing ★ with: bts

#pairings: bf!jungkook X friends!bts X reader #synopsis: where your boyfriend decides to ask his friends what they want to see #tags: pwp, group sex, blowjob, rough oral sex (m.), fingering (f.), humiliation, degradation, cumslut, spit, sperm, tears, free use (?). aftercare mentioned but not shown. mention of bisexual jungkook #notes: this is more fetishistic than usual on this blog, so DON'T READ if you're uncomfortable with 7 guys cumming on your face and swearing at you. #wc: 2,2k

you see your friends after a months, like since you and jungkook are living together you don't see them. it's funny, cause you are friends an years ago, but at a some months you just can't see each other.

"you're so hot dressing like that, maybe if we fuck before the guys comes..." jungkook said lifting your skirt and rubbing your hole.

"namjoon text me, he said that come in five minutes with the guys"

"i promise that i can make you cum in five minutes"

you laughed, because you know that’s real…

but the other six guys are at your door in five minutes. not just six guys but six best friends of yours.

"i know that we fucked yesterday, but god, i need eat your pussy again, i'm addicted, i need fuck you every hour, every minute, every second, night after night..." despite the completely dirty speech, jungkook was kissing his shoulder calmly.

“the guys are coming in any minute” you tried to convince yourself.

“don't be so mean to me, give me that dirty little hole, please”

jungkook moved one of his hands up to the thin strap of your shirt, pulling it down and exposing your nipples, he turned you around, putting his mouth there without any ceremony. you were used to your boyfriend's tongue, how he sucked and bit the nipple of your breast with devotion.

and then the doorbell rang.

"jungkook, stop, the boys are here." you tried to stop your boyfriend.

"i'm sure they wouldn't mind seeing me fuck you, baby. and you don't mind showing how that tight hole stretches with my cock, sure?”

god, this is a FUCKING true, you and jungkook are worse than each other, but more than showing, you'd easily let them stretch you too!

"i know exactly what you thought, dirty little girl." he said before going back to sucking your nipples.

and then they rang the doorbell again.

"holy shit!" jungkook complained, going to open the door, you are trying clumsily to put your clothes in place.

when the other six men entered your house you smiled, you missed them, namjoon was the first to hug you, leaving a kiss on your forehead in a gentle way, and damn, you had seen some photos he posted at the gym, but he was BIG…

seokjin came next, the tall man kissing your hand before giving you a cute hug.

and after, jimin came, leaving a wet kiss on your cheek as he always did, the blonde guy had a scent that was enough to make your panties even wetter.

shit, jungkook shouldn’t have teased you.

you noticed that taehyung whispered something to yoongi, who laughed, muttering something like 'have decency?' and only then did you notice that, probably due to jungkook's saliva, your tits were wet, and the thin shirt clearly marked this.

"oh, yes! you disturbed us, i was dying to fuck my wife and you arrived."

a lot of things happened in that sentence, jungkook calling you 'my wife' and mainly, him exposing your sex life to all his friends.

it's not like they didn't imagine, you were friends before you and jungkook dated, the other six knew what you were like, and how jungkook was too, it was a matter of adding a + b, sometimes they would say something in the group chat, but It was the first time they had said something like that in front of them.

"if you want to fuck her, i don't care, as long as i can watch. it's not like i've never fucked you guys." hoseok said as if she wished a 'good morning'.

and that was the truth, besides jungkook, you had already had sex with at least four of your friends, and the same went for him, it's very likely that that's why he wasn't jealous.

"oh, can i? because i really want to do this."

god, your boyfriend was a perv.

“please, i miss seeing her tits.” namjoon confessed, reminding you of how he loved being on top of you, sucking your nipple to make you relax on his fat cock.

“dude, respect my girl!”

jungkook scolded namjoon, but you knew it was a joke as soon as your boyfriend came behind you, pulling the strap of your shirt down and exposing your breasts to his friends.

if you stopped to think about it, you would think it was crazy, your boyfriend sharing you with six other guys, but on the other hand, the other six guys were your friends, and you wanted much more than just looks at you.

“does anyone want to see anything else?” jungkook asked, making you feel your panties soaking, you felt like an exposed slut, a trophy, and that would never be a bad thing.

"her panties" seokjin said, looking at you with devotion, you had never done anything other than kiss him at a party.

“i want something” taehyung said.

"what do you want to see?"

"i want to see her on her knees sucking my cock." it was direct.

"if you suck taehyung's cock you'll have to suck mine too!' yoongi spoke up.

"and certainly mine too." jimin said, rubbing his thumb across his lips.

“let me get this straight,” jungkook scratched his throat. "are you saying to my face that you want my wife to give you a blowjob?"

"it was you who offered her to us like a prostitute." hoseok spoke up, unbuckling his belt.

god, you never felt so horny, your boyfriend and your friends discussed you as if you were even in that room.

"what do you think about this, baby?" Jungkook asked you.

"well..." you just walked around the counter, heading towards the sofa (being followed by the seven men as if they were puppies), and then removed your skirt and the blouse that was around your waist.

jungkook came to you, kissing you as you removed his clothes, his fingers brushing the white lace of your wet panties as you let out little moans into his mouth. your boyfriend was completely turned on, rubbing his pecs on your nipples making you moan even more.

"my little slut is so greedy, seven guys in your mouth? will you be able to handle it?"

"i need to get it!"

"good whore!" he kissed you one last time. "you don't deserve that much, organize yourself to kiss her in pairs, and you know her and the word, anything I'll insist on killing each one of you.”

jungkook barely finished and jimin and seokjin came close to you, jimin from behind, pressing his already hard cock on your back, and seokjin on your belly, at that moment you wanted both of them inside you, but all you got was seokjin sucking and nibbling your nipples while jimin kissed you and played with your wet panties. you moaning to the two of them while the other five watched everything.

you didn't even notice when taehyung and yoongi arrived, their firm hands using you to rub themself, it was pathetic, the pinch that yoongi gave your left nipple while your hand was inside taehyung's pants made you scream in pain, but mixed with pleasure, you liked that aggressive way.

"are you going to call me daddy again tonight?" namjoon asked as he approached you with hoseok, sticking two fingers into your pussy without any warning when hoseok’s kissing you “i missed that drippy messy hole.” namjoon goes fast, he starts scissoring his fingers inside you, you moan so loud because everything is even hotter when you see all those other men looking at you.

"i think the guys will like to see this" hoseok moved out of your way, exposing everyone to the image of you moaning into namjoon's fingers.

"so pretty our bimbo slut!" jimin said, watching the scene.

your boyfriend wanted to tell namjoon to stop it, take you to the bedroom and fuck you until his body shut down, but just seeing how much fun you were having with it all made him wait.

namjoon adds a third finger in without warning and you're feel so humiliated, leak around his hands when he fucks his fingers in and out of your cunt at an insane rhythm.

"tell your boyfriend how much you miss my cock opening all that hole, how much you miss your girl juices running down my cock. how you love look at my cock crammed in your tight pussy” and then he took his fingers out of you, rubbing them on your lips and forcing you to kneel on the floor. “you're not going to cum, unless whore, you're going to shove our dicks down your throat and let us cum all over your body, then your boyfriend sees what he does to you full of other men's cum”

and then you noticed the other six men approach you with their dicks in their hands, taehyung was the first to pull your hair, and you were agile with your warm tongue tracing his dick up and down.

while your tongue was still on taehyung, hoseok rubbed his balls in your face, and you tried to grab them on your tongue too, but it was in vain.

“jungkook you date a prostitute!” seokjin said when you grabbed his dick, starting a masturbation.

"i'm sure she can handle two" jimin said, shoving his cock along with taehyung's down your throat.

and you sucked it, not even you know how, but you sucked it like it was the most delicious lollipop in the world while they both thrust hard into your throat.

at one point in the night, you had jimin and taehyung's dick in your mouth and seokjin and hoseok one in each hand. namjoon, jungkook and yoongi took turns rubbing their dicks over your body and slapping your chest and face.

jimin took his dick out of your mouth, and you fit seokjin's cock, watching from the side as jimin started jerking off.

yoongi was in your right hand, you caressing his balls.

you felt some tears in your eyes, sometimes hitting your friends' thighs to make them stop for you to breathe, before returning to the aggressive pace.

the feeling was much more pleasant due to the environment than the sexual act itself, since you could barely actually suck the dicks, every time someone was coming in and out of your mouth.

"i think this stupid bitch was too greedy, she hasn't choked on my dick yet" namjoon complained, making you release seokjin and hoseok's dick that were in your mouth, when the two came out, an absurd amount of saliva ran out of you, it was humiliating, but you didn't have much time to think as soon namjoon grabbed your hair and made your nose touch his pelvis.

and then yoongi and jungkook joined him, rubbing their balls all over your face while you just opened your mouth and gladly accepted whatever they gave you.

"you look like a bitch in heat, trying to suck all these dicks when you clearly can't!" yoongi complained.

and this triggered a series of humiliations.

"disgusting mouth, can't even suck dick properly!" jimin said.

"i'm ashamed to say that that mouth touched my dick." seokjin said as he buried his throat on his cock, making you cough and cry.

"i think the only good hole in you is your pussy." namjoon said shortly after spitting at you, encouraging the other six to do the same.

no matter how much they cursed and humiliated you, you had never felt so good, the feeling of having seven men in a circle around you was inexplicable.

and when hoseok left your mouth just to cum you felt even better.

his sperm falling down your face and breasts, mixing with that of jimin and taehyung who came soon after.

“our cumslut, so disgusting, free whore, thank u, jungkook” taehyung joked, grabbing your hair.

you came back with namjoon's dick in your mouth, choking and coughing several times as he fucked your mouth with even greater force than he used to do in your other holes.

“dating jungkook made you stupid, that mouth doesn't do anything right!” namjoon shouted, pulling his dick out of your throat only to spit a thick string of saliva there and hit you on face.

your face full of other guys cum while you was still sucking namjoon was what made your boyfriend cum on your face, making namjoon's big cock a little dirty.

"be useful at least a little and make me cum in that throat" yoongi said.

you put yoongi's dick back in your mouth, sucking it and namjoon's as they fucked you, and you saw stars as they came together and filled your throat, so full to the point that it leaked out of your mouth even though you tried to swallow.

you cum, without any stimulation other than the humiliation and the cum on your body, you just came so hard that your body shook.

you were a mess, your entire body and the room floor is a mixture of tears, cum, and spit. and you were still fucking wet.

"do you want some help with her?" your friends offered, after putting on your clothes and seeing that you were completely destroyed.

“no need,” jungkook thanked. "i take care of my princess."

and then the other six walked over to you, giving you a careful peck on the mouth before being led to the door.

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ma1dita · 10 months ago

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play pretend

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.1k (holy shit)

summary: (established relationship…at the end of it lol) suggestive in nature but sfw , underage drinking what do you expect from a dionysus!kid, mentions of vomit The one where Mr. D catches you two in the act, but you and him aren't exactly together yet. Everyone knows you two are together except the both of you, apparently. It’s hard to not run away from something good. (luke castellan x dionysus!reader)

a/n: happy first i love you to you and luke! yall are together now! crazy! thanks for being patient during my lil vacay :)) its been a little over a month since i started the trouble!verse!! ilysm

(posted 2/23 betad by my one and only @mrsaluado )

—

There’s something you’ve always loved about mornings.

Waking up with the first rays of light peeking through your window, the sun’s arms stretched around your sleepy frame pressing warm, featherlike kisses across the expanse of your back.

It almost feels real.

Apollo must be feeling generous today, the heat of a warm breath brushing against your neck, and your alarm sounding an awful lot like soft snores. You ought to get up and close the blinds; it’s too damn bright. But your weighted blanket feels immensely heavier this morning as it envelopes your senses—smelling of citrus, musk, and a tangible dream of last night that seems to have stayed in bed with you. As soon as you try to untangle your legs from below the covers, warmth presses you deeper into the mattress with a…familiar sigh.

Your eyes pop open.

Quick and calculated, your eyes survey the surroundings of your room—the mop of licorice tresses nestled against the crook of your neck, both of your clothes scattered on the floor, as well as the alarm clock and a few other things knocked off your nightstand from Luke’s enthusiasm. The quiet of the morning is quickly disrupted when you hear two pairs of little hands pounding on your door, and for a moment you wonder if this is one of those hyper-realistic dreams that you don’t want to wake up from.

“Sissy! You missed breakfast,” Pollux bellows as Castor continues to slap his palms on the wood like a bongo drum.

The sheets start rustling as you squirm out of Luke’s grasp, bumping against the muscular ridges of his torso which brings him back to consciousness.

“Be out in a minute!” you slur against his shoulder, and he opens his eyes blearily at the sight of you sprawled over him to try to reach the alarm clock on the ground. As his eyes focus he can’t help but admire the planes of your body, soft and pretty in the morning light like a painting come to life. Waking up in one’s company has never felt more right, even with the usual chatter of campers wafting through the open window. Here in the swaddle of pink and purple sheets, you two are something singular—not camp counselors with jobs to do, not demigods wanting to achieve glory, just your Angelface and his Trouble.

It’s intimate, even if it doesn’t have a label, him and you.

His large hand catches you at the plush of your tummy when you almost topple off the bed.

“Shit. Shit! They’re not kidding—Luke, it’s 9:30!”

You fling yourself upwards and off of him, clambering to find clothes from your dresser and tossing him his from the day prior. His belt buckle almost hits him in the eye and he groans, flinching as it smacks him in the cheek.

“Gods, woman. You think camp will crumble because you slept in for once?”

The glare you throw in his direction is his answer, so Luke slowly tugs his pants on–though he quickly gets distracted by a half-dressed vision of you rummaging around your room.

“Castellan.”

He grins like a little kid in a candy store, and to that, you throw his shoe at him.

Idiot.

Too bad you’re in deep shit for sleeping in.

“SISSY!!!”

“IN A FUCKING MINUTE, THING ONE AND TWO!”

Screaming at the closed door as you throw some shorts on, you spin around and bump into Luke who’s already got his hands around your waist as his nose nudges the space between your jaw and your neck.

“You were supposed to leave before daybreak,” you sigh, a smile creeping onto your lips, “if you did as you were told, I wouldn’t have slept in.” Fake annoyance leaks through your voice though he knows it not to be true, he wouldn’t be able to latch onto you like this if you were. His nose continues to graze up towards your ear as he presses a kiss behind it—like how you both deal with your feelings and the truth nowadays, a hidden secret kept for both of your eyes only.

“Dunno Trouble…I can get used to waking up next to you,” he mumbles. You can feel the imprint of his smile searing into your skin.

Is this what going into cardiac arrest feels like? Genuine question.

You’ve both been sneaking around for the past few weeks, but neither of you has made anything official. They say it’s easier to fall for a friend rather than a stranger—to know someone so intimately (and now in more ways than one) should make falling the easy part.

But that’s kind of the problem.

Luke is your best friend—both knowing how the other feels from a single glance, so pray tell to all the gods on Olympus, why has this boy not asked you out yet? Whether this is all for fun or anything resembling a four-letter word that makes your brain go fuzzy, you think you’d rather swim in the Styx instead of putting yourself at a disadvantage. Love is scary, even if it’s Luke.

Especially since it’s Luke.

His words make you stop in your tracks and you can hear your heart pounding in your ears, so you’re not dead… But the noise turns out to be one of the twins banging on the door again, and now you look like an asshole for taking too long to respond. Luke’s awkwardly looking at you now, tongue in cheek.

“Last warning,” one of your brothers teasingly croons, before the other continues, “Dad’s almost at the door! Your boyfriend’s gotta go or he’s dead…”

Your eyes widen in fear and Luke loosens his grip on your waist, unsure if you look like you’ve seen a ghost at the thought of him being called your boyfriend or the very real possibility of getting caught by your dad.

What a way to go, you two.

“Get out. You gotta go now, out the window!”

You start pushing him towards the windowpane, your palms pressing against his marked-up and very bare back.

Holy shit, he still doesn’t have a shirt and he looks like he got mauled by a hellhound.

You can practically see the grapevines start to flourish outside your window.

He’s too close for comfort, way too damn close, you think, but can’t reason if you mean Luke or your dad.

“Seriously?”

He straddles the open window, and Luke doesn’t know what to feel about you pushing him away—it’s a feeling that’s foreign to him since he’s always by your side.

“Sorry. I’ll make it up to you later angelface,” you mumble, pulling him in for a mind-numbing kiss that almost makes him slip off the rain gutter, and by the time you’ve already closed the window he realizes he’s shirtless in broad daylight, feet hopping off the siding of the cabin.

This couldn’t get any worse (oh but it does in a second), and you’re definitely the asshole this time around.

Your dad barges into your room by the time you throw a shirt on.

“Kid, what the hell? You sick?”

Mr. D furrows his brows at the sight of you, face flushed as you simper up a lie about your head hurting. It’s weak for an excuse and even if you usually don’t have a tell—he’s the master of this game, so he pretends to not notice you chuck a shirt out the window when you open it to make it less stuffy.

He raises an eyebrow in disapproval when you both notice your shirt is too big on you.

Oh, he’s onto you, applying heat like a brand to make his only daughter squirm; Mr. D peeks out the window to see a certain Luke Castellan stomping across the path wearing your cropped camp tee—and concludes that if there’s anyone in hot water right now, Luke must be drowning in it.

—

Acting natural is a bit harder for you today, and it feels like a cruel and unusual punishment worth the deepest pit of the Underworld as you scribble words onto a page that won’t even be comprehensible once you read them after this meeting is over. You’ve been catching up on work all day (also known as the impossible task of avoiding Luke) to show your dad you haven’t been slacking off. But a late start meant you fumbled through your day and it was obvious to everyone that you were off your game. Archery ran into javelin throwing, capture the flag teams weren’t ready and had to be made on the spot, there were no new shipments delivered to the camp store, and the infirmary ran out of ambrosia— which were all things that you were expected to coordinate.

Gods, you’re getting too old for this shit.

And if you, the head counselor everyone depends on, is off her game, well—everyone’s on edge. The Stolls even dared to ask you if the world was ending today and you were less than impressed.

Being in love sure feels like it is.

The only thing left to get through is this counselor’s meeting before the party tonight at Fireworks Beach, and you’ll damn yourself to Tartarus if you can’t even get that right. You’re a Dionysus kid, so partying is in your blood. Party planning is your favorite hobby, and to be real, you deserve a drink after today.

Speaking of your father, he’s jabbering on about something you find yourself not particularly interested in, but well…someone’s gotta listen. Charles is dozing off at the table, and Lee jabs him in the side. You see Silena braiding Clarisse’s hair out of the corner of your periphery. And of course, out of all of them, there’s Luke who’s been trying to steal your attention for the past 30 minutes. Black ink smears across the page as you find yourself having every thought that ends supplemented with the memory of how Luke looked at you as he climbed out of your window this morning.

Could he actually want more?

The all-star camper, Luke Castellan— camp’s best soldier who’s envied by many and admired by all…wants to wake up next to you. You, the camp director’s daughter who keeps everyone in line and is seen more as authority instead of a person with feelings. You’re not always feared, but in a camp for demigod kids who’d rather hone their powers instead of lose special privileges for skipping class, you’re not exactly their favorite either. Once, someone said they’d rather face Mr. D instead of you.

“That doesn’t make sense, we’re supposed to send in the next progress report to Olympus before the last day of the month. That’s Wednesday, D. So it should be by the Sunday before,” you butt in after a statement your dad makes about scheduling.

All eyes are on you now— it’s the first time you’ve spoken up during tonight’s meeting which was out of character in itself, but your father catches you off guard when the sound of his booming laughter spreads across the room like dynamite tearing through a battlefield.

“Says who? We’ve got enough time,” The god remarks, a strange sheen in his eyes that reflects into yours. He’s on your ass a bit more today, pointing out your flaws from the day and making it his mission to get on your nerves. Few mortals would undermine a god, and though you do it daily to spite him for your existence, your confidence is lower today than it usually is—the reason being a boy with amber eyes boring into your soul from across the table. Everything else pales in comparison now, almost fading into the background, and even here in the hot seat you can’t help but think about if Luke could ever fall for someone like you.

You’re venturing into dangerous territory, you tell yourself, you’ve been hurt before.

It hurts less somehow when you’re cautious. To prepare oneself to be hurt is a defense mechanism ingrained in you—your mom raised you to always be ready for anything. Your self-identity has always been skewed by others’ perceptions. Mirroring the memory of your late mother’s ideals, exemplifying your actions through your immortal father’s personality, you find that fighting your bloodline is one of the most difficult things to come to terms with. A thought passes in your brain that you’ve taken after the worst of them—your mother’s ambition and your father’s unpredictability.

And who would want to love someone so difficult?

Tough love is the only way you know how to love. Perhaps someone as good as Luke deserves better than this.

“It’ll be less to worry about that way,” you swallow, and the other counselors sit back in their seats as tension fills the air, signaling another disagreement about to start between your father and you.

“Good thing you don’t have to worry about it since it’s my job, right, kid? Just because you woke up on the wrong side of the bed today doesn’t mean you can change things to better fit your schedule instead of the rest of ours.”

Mr. D scowls, and then again maybe you’re too much like your father—too brash, too mouthy, and self-serving, and your eyes meet Luke’s again as your mouth pulls into a bitter smile.

“It’s the first and last time it’ll ever happen. Gods know I don’t get sick days around here picking up after you,” you spit out harshly, words coming out like acid.

“Just saying kid. Haven’t seen you this careless in years— Maybe check yourself before telling us what to do, yeah?”

Your father’s words have a double meaning as he stares into your soul, glancing between you and Luke, who is none the wiser, still focused on you. Annabeth is holding his hand under the table as you watch his jaw flex. He can see right through the shoddy performance you put on of having it all together.

Does everyone know?

Your lips pucker as you roll your neck from locking, and a humorless laugh slips from you. Everyone else’s eyes are on Luke, who looks like he’s about to jump across the table and wring a god’s neck.

Fuck.

“Whatever. I’m not doing this today,” you grumble, feeling overwhelmed. The chair screeches against the wood of the floor as you push yourself up, fists stained with ink and clenched in teenage angst as you walk to the door to make a quick escape.

Your father crosses his arms smugly at the success of getting under your skin, and the last words you hear as you leave are, “You never want to hear the truth, kid. Must you always be so…. you?”

Your steps falter for a moment, feeling heavier knowing he’s right so you let go of the door to let it slam it behind you. There’s a commotion inside after you leave but you couldn’t be bothered to give a damn.

It’s time to party and you’re sure as hell getting drunk, high, or both tonight.

—

It takes about two cups of wine for the inebriation to start kicking into Luke’s system. He’d never been much of a drinker, but with the way you’re throwing your head back at Lee’s jokes as he plays the guitar, he thinks he should drink a bit more to forget the fear in your eyes this morning and how Lee keeps touching your waist.

He’s been suspended from counselor duties for the rest of the month for mouthing off at Mr. D in your defense, and even if Annabeth tells him he’s lucky to have not met a worse fate, the way things played out today makes him feel like the most unlucky guy at camp. Fuck the gods, or at least…fuck your dads (that doesn’t sound right, but he’s too busy watching the moonlight glint against your skin that whatever his ex is whispering next to him goes in one ear and out the other).

“Lukey?” Skye mumbles against his neck, “I miss you…you’re always busy doing who knows what!”

Well… you have a name, Luke thinks, taking a big gulp of whatever’s left in his cup as his eyes follow you across the beach. You’re dancing around the bonfire spinning a tipsy Clarisse who laughs without a care in the world. He thinks you’re the best of your parents—determined to achieve your goals, selfless when it comes to others’ needs, and passionate about what you want. Mr. D will never get to see this side of you—the one you show your friends and this place you all call home. He’ll never be deserving of the work you put into Camp Half-Blood (and to some extent, Luke knows he doesn’t deserve you either).

A dejected sigh brushes warm air against his shoulder.

“You know, Castellan. I wish I met you first,” the blond daughter of Athena slurs with tears forming in her eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

“The two of you have always… it’s always been you and her. Even if you both don’t want to admit it. It’s not fair,” she hiccups. Luke pulls the cup out of his ex-lover’s hand and she shakes her head.

“Skye, you’re drunk. I’ll take you back to 6.”

“You really don’t see it do you?” Her hands grapple onto Luke’s shirt like she’s pulling him down and pleading for him to understand.

“That girl is in love with you. The both of you are meant for each other—and you’re both spending too much time trying to fight fate. The rest of us aren’t as lucky, but we sure as hell aren’t stupid.”

There’s a moment of clarity that hits as he looks into Skye’s eyes, and he scratches the back of his neck.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I meant what I said when we broke up a few years ago. You’re both always looking for each other, even if you don’t know it. Just meet in the middle already, for gods’ sake…I’ll be okay,” she sighs, sitting up on the log they were resting on.

“Your girlfriend is sure as hell to give me a hangover worth her title of being Dionysus’ kid in the morning anyways,” she mutters, kissing Luke on his cheek as a farewell. But out of all of the things to catch your attention that night, Luke’s blush glows in the light of the fire, and he watches you frown and stomp off toward the forest.

For being the son of the god of luck, his dad really won’t give him a break.

It didn’t help that Skye suddenly started projectile vomiting seconds after you left (off of her only cup of wine; wonder how that happened).

—

Luke fights through his growing intoxication on the walk back towards the cabins, but boy are you difficult when you’re angry—you’ve always had a profound effect on his being, even more so with your powers. He makes a wrong turn somewhere through the woods, completely missing the cabins, which he doesn’t realize until he stumbles across the path leading to the Big House. When his eyes focus, he spots Mr. D sipping on a glass as he leans on the railing of the front porch. Be calm and don’t act drunk, Luke tells himself, but all of his concentration goes into not swaying in front of the god of wine that he can’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

“Good evening, um…sir.”

“Kid, it’s 3 in the morning. What the hell are you doing here? Gods know it’s not my window you’re trying to climb up. You’re a bit of a ways off.”

Now what the fuck was he supposed to say to that?

Luke freezes in his spot (in reality he bumps into the first wooden step and sticks a hand out to steady himself against the railing).

“Are you drunk?”

Mr. D looks at him knowingly like it’s almost funny to him, eyebrows furrowed and head quirked like he can sniff it off of him. He probably can, now that Luke thinks really hard about it.

“I’m not gonna answer that because I think you know the answer already,” the son of Hermes words carefully, but nothing smart can come of this. It’s like playing chess with checkers, and Dionysus of all gods would know—no breathalyzer needed.

There’s a beat of silence, before Mr. D says, “I’m gonna give you another chance to–”

“Yes, I’m drunk, but it’s not Trouble’s fault—it’s mine!” he blabbers, walking closer to your father.

“She’s mad at me for defending her from you earlier besides the fact I act stupid around her and I only had a few cups, I swear, but she’s…your daughter is…extraordinary.”

“What?”

“Your daughter makes me feel drunk, sir. Even without the wine. I don’t know what to do with myself, just please don’t get mad at her. She has a lot more to lose…” He feels pathetic in all sense of the word, rubbing at his eyes until Mr. D snaps his fingers and the alcohol blanket lifts from his senses. Like a bucket of cold water splashed onto his spine, Luke is suddenly very awake, and all too embarrassed for the waterfall of words he’s told your father.

“Oh.”

“I didn’t know she knew how to do that yet. She’s learning quickly.” Mr. D looks out into the distance, the dim light of the cabins acting like a beacon of light in the middle of the campgrounds.

Luke wrings his hands, picking at his thumbs and he’s sure he’s about to get kicked out of camp for his behavior, much less the fact that he’s been fraternizing with the director’s daughter.

“Sometimes I think she knows too much.” He licks his lips, awkwardly standing next to the god and wondering if the dark liquid in his cup is wine.

“Do you think I don’t know that, Luke? Do you really think I don’t know about the parties? I let her have her fun too you know— I'm the one that keeps Chiron asleep. She doesn’t ask for much. I know I give her a hard time. I’m just….”

There are a few things about Mr. D’s statement that surprise Luke: the fact that he actually knows his name, how he safeguards his daughter’s interests, and the possibility of a god actually knowing how to be a good parent.

It still doesn’t take away from the countless times he’s seen you put yourself down because of your father, the inadequacy you feel from the responsibilities you take on, and how you’d do anything for simple applause. Tough love is still love with a heavy hand. And it leaves bruises, whether he meant it or not.

“Is that why you’ve never sent her on an actual quest? We all know picking up the twins doesn’t count in the grand scheme of things.”

“For what? To achieve glory? Recognition? I never understood why we Olympians do that. Send children off to their deaths to deserve a moment of their godrent’s time, or a gift to shut them up. I don’t need her to be a hero, she doesn’t have anything she needs to prove to me. I need her to be my daughter, and preferably alive. That’s enough for me.”

Luke takes a step back in disbelief. There’s something in his being that yearns to be loved like that, without having to prove it or needing to deserve it. It hurts almost, the way he wants to be loved like your family loves you. Your father, an Olympian, standing in front of him telling him that your existence is enough to be worthy of his presence. In the silence that follows, Luke wonders if he’ll ever have that.

“You should tell her that more often, sir.”

“Listen. She’s a good kid, I just give her a hard time because it’s hard to get attached to you mortals. Your lives are so short compared to the infinite timeline I live. I can do everything in my power to try to keep her safe, but I can’t stop her from leaving. So don’t blame me if I act needy if it’ll keep her here for a bit longer. I’ll take all the time I can get.”

“Then how do I tell her I love her with without either of us running away?”

Mr. D laughs loudly now, his wrinkles crinkling as liquid sloshes out of his cup. It turns out to be grape juice you left out for him before the party.

“Mortals always busy themselves with trivial things, like pride and sorrow. Pandora’s box left you humans with nothing but hope. I say you swallow the negative and just say it how it is. You’ll have a lot more time being happier together that way. I already lost my bet against some of the counselors anyway.”

“What bet?”

Your dad swats at Luke like he’s a dog to kick, and tosses his glass over his shoulder where it disappears in the night air.

“Get off my porch Castellan, and just know if you hurt her…”

“I’d die before that happens, sir.”

“That would hurt her most of all. Think about what that means. For gods’ sake she’s left her light on for you, so go on before I set the harpies on you. And don’t call me sir, it freaks me out. You’re still not special to me.” Mr. D stalks back inside the Big House, and Luke takes that as his cue to leave. The cold night air pushes him back towards the cabins, the light in your window luring him in like a ship lost at sea.

—

“I know you’re still awake, Trouble.”

You hear him move closer to the bed as you keep your eyes shut, evening out your breaths, but you’re never able to hide anything from Luke anymore.

“I thought I closed that window,” you mumble, turning your face more towards your pillow.

“You didn’t.”

Of course, you didn’t. You were hoping he’d chase after you this time around, even if you made him drunk in more ways than one.

“Skye keep you busy?” you say nonchalantly, and you hear Luke laugh as he tugs your duvet off of you.

“Your dad did, actually,” he says grinning, watching your eyes pop open in confusion as you turn and face him, propping yourself up on your knees.

“What the fuck?”

“You could’ve gotten me kicked out y’know? Stumbled onto his porch telling him about how drunk you make me feel even without a drop of alcohol and how I don’t know what the fuck to do with myself when I’m around you.”

“You shouldn’t be so brave to fight gods like that for me. Even if it’s my dad, Castellan,” you whisper, and he kneels next to your bed so he can look at you in the eyes from an equal standpoint. Because that’s what the two of you are— equal, singular, one and the same. And he’s never made you feel less than, even if your brain tries to convince you of it.

“Stop that,” he scoffs, shaking his head as he grabs your hands, “stop calling me my last name like it detaches you from how you feel about me. I want you to stop pretending when it's just you and me,” he pleads, whispering your name so softly that the sound of it brushes against your lips.

There’s something more intimate in the way he looks at you now compared to when you were naked and nestled against him this past morning. The act of knowing that it’s you and him, no matter how hard you try to fight it.

His knuckle brushes against your jaw, pushing your eyes to look back into his, and you can’t deny him any longer.

“Hey. I love you, and I know you feel the same; I'm tired of you acting like you're not and I’m going crazy he—”

His words are halted by your lips surging forward to meet him in the middle. The culmination of years of friendship has brought you to this special moment frozen in time, and sure, demigods die young but this must be what he’ll see in Elysium. If there’s a single memory he can bring with him to his next life, he hopes it’s this one—the taste of you and how it feels to be loved like this, without question or reason. You pull away with a sweet smile and he feels drunk again.

“You’re my best friend, Angelface,” you mumble.

Okay, now that sobered him up faster than it should have.

Luke stiffens, his hands falling to your thighs as he starts to ramble, “If you’re actually friendzoning me right now I might just roll out of your window and feed myself to a harpy.”

The laugh that comes out of you booms across the room as you wrap your arms around him with a radiant smile. You always have so much to say, but right now only three words come to mind. Five vowels, three consonants, and the gravity of it pushes out of your mouth like there’s no better truth to tell.

“I love you. I think I’ve been in love with you even before I liked you and I’m sorry I’ve been too scared to say it. I’m not used to…”

Luke sighs in relief, as he presses his scarred cheek against your shoulder.

“You think I’m not scared of us either, Trouble? I worship the ground you walk on, and everyone can see that.”

“Well I’m not a god, Luke,” you say tugging him up by his mop of curls as your legs wrap around him.

“Sometimes when I’m with you, I think you’re the closest thing to it,” he whispers, pulling your chin down for another kiss until you both get your fill. He thinks he can kiss you forever until the end of your short lives, until it’s senseless and maddening, like falling into a drunken stupor. Loving you is an experience he’ll never be able to rid himself of, heart stained with the best of you until both your fingertips are red and raw with the feeling.

You pull him back into your bed as your giggles fill the early morning air. He’s quickly becoming what you love most about waking up in the morning.

—

Chris Rodriguez wakes up to the sound of the morning birds and chattering children in the busy cabin 11. As he rubs at his eyes, ready to take on the day as an interim cabin counselor for the rest of the month because of Luke’s suspension, sunlight falls onto the one empty bunk in the corner of the room (Fact: There is never an empty bed in the Hermes cabin. Also a fact: he and Chiron will be able to cash in against the other counselors as fast as his feet can take him to the Big House).

—

“To love someone is firstly to confess; I’m prepared to be devastated by you.” Billy Ray Belcourt

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fuckyeahisawthat · 1 month ago

Text

Dune: Prophecy episode 1 thoughts, tried to keep it vague to avoid major spoilers:

Wow there is a lot of exposition. Like a LOT of exposition, especially in the first 10-15 minutes when we're not invested in any of the characters yet. I hope this is a first episode problem.

Ah they went the coward's route and used "Great Machine War" instead of "Butlerian Jihad."

There's an interesting "history is written by the victors" thread there right from the beginning that I hope they pull on some more.

I love how they did the Voice, which appears early in the episode, because both the actor's performance and the sound design of it are slightly different from the films. It really feels/sounds like the character using it is straining to access a new and unfamiliar power, in contrast to the effortless, overwhelming assertion of control it comes across as in the films.

Salusa Secundus looks so green and lush in comparison to how it looks at the time of the films.

I realize this is probably an unfair complaint for something made on a TV budget (even an HBO TV budget), but imo the production design doesn't quite measure up to the films. I think the best work is on the props. The key to the genetic index room, the little slides that Valya and Tula are looking at with students' info on them, the Emperor's projection table--those all look great and have that feeling of "future filtered through the past" that I think is key to the Dune aesthetic. Many of the location exteriors are gorgeous, too. Some of the interior sets are quite striking and others are underwhelming. The costumes are...mid imo; there are some beautiful elements and others that look too identifiably modern. Including Princess Ynez's red gown unfortunately which looks like a department store prom dress. I realize it's a high bar--the films were really really good at making everything look both futuristic and ancient, layered and textured--but you do notice the difference.

So! Many! Women! Pretty racially diverse casting too. But also omg so many characters and I already forget half their names. I'm gonna need Dune: Facebook for the next episode.

Emily Watson and Olivia Williams are already very compelling, even if you don't quite know their characters' full agendas yet. Heckin ready for some Machiavellian women scheming.

Love some of the more fucked up shit that just slides by and the information it gives you about the world. Adult (? idk maybe she's supposed to be in her late teens) woman getting engaged to a 9-year-old. Practicing Truthsaying on prisoners, some of whom have fresh bruises on their faces.

Arrakis is...the same. This one is honestly fucking me up. I know time scales in Dune are absurd and really kind of incomprehensible in comparison to real Earth history but can you imagine your home being passed around various imperialist powers for resource extraction for ten thousand years?? FOUR HUNDRED GENERATIONS. 80 years of Harkonnen rule seems like nothing. We're talking about whole eras of colonial control and resistance here. Like damn. No wonder so many Fremen have come to believe that only a messiah can save them. Imagine being someone like Chani and feeling the legacy of not decades or even centuries but millennia of struggle on your shoulders. It is gonna take me a while to fully absorb this one. Holy fuck.

Travis Fimmel's character has an...ability that we haven't seen in the Dune universe before and I'm super curious to see where they're gonna go with that.

Overall it feels like this episode was mostly setup but there's a lot of potential? Like there are a lot of potential threads that could develop into something cool and twisty and interesting. I'm not sure where any of it is going yet but I'm ready to find out.

#dune #dune prophecy

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gilverrwrites · 9 months ago

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Hello, me again

Could you make also, a Dean having erotic/dirty dream with his female best friend or rival (or a best friend that is also a rival).

And all that she does remember him of his smut dreams

Not So Sweet Dreams

Author note: Sorry for the delay, I've been super busy with unrelated things, but I had a lot of fun writing this and trying to get into Dean's mind set. I hope it's what you wanted and that you enjoy it!

Pairing: Dean Winchester/F!Reader

Rating: M/18+

Words: 3349

Content: Dean being jealous and over-protective. Male gaze/male fantasies, drinking, swearing, violence, blood, vampires, arguing, hatesex, (kinda) subby Dean, teasing, dirty talk, unprotected sex, p in v sex, woman on top.

Please remember: That you deserve love.

Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Request Info

You were being surprisingly level-headed about the whole thing. The two of you had inadvertently wound up at the same nightclub, hunting the same nest of vampires. You’d begrudgingly agreed to work together, two hunters are better than one, after all. But you’d been reckless. You, strutting around in your skimpy black dress to get their attention, acting drunk and helpless, had been part of the plan. Watching you had undoubtedly been his favourite part. You letting one of the vamps take you into the back office without warning and without backup was not. You were supposed to lure them outside, not deeper into the building, behind far more security. By the time Dean had found a way to stealthily follow, he’d found you in a precarious position. Time seemed to stand still as he took a moment to process the sight. Your dress, or what was left of it, was all but hanging off as you fought back against not one but THREE bloodsuckers. The image of your ass in that tiny little thong, would be etched into his mind until the day he died. When he found his bearings again, he stepped up. If there is one thing he’s good at, it's decapitating vampires. Even you couldn’t deny how quickly and skilfully he’d taken out your opponents before swooping you into his arms and taking you back to the car. He’d expected your normally ungrateful ass to be, well… ungrateful. After years of reluctantly crossing paths, he’d come to expect your brash, defiant attitude but you were taking the whole thing pretty well. In fact, he was considering how he might slip you some holy water when your voice interrupted his thoughts. “Thank you so much again, Dean.” You purred, and he looked over at you, sitting in the remnants of your disguise and his jacket, comfortable and safe in the passenger seat of his baby. The words sounded all wrong coming out of your mouth, but he wasn’t complaining. You reached over and patted his inner thigh, making his breath hitch as you continued. "Really, I’m so grateful.” At that moment, he pulled up outside the motel the two of you were checked into, separately. Taking advantage of your newly found pliable nature, Dean asked, while cocking his thumb towards his room; “You wanna come in? Have a drink?” You nodded and allowed him to slip his arm around your waist as he led the way. You didn’t object when he guided you to sit on his lap or brush him off as he examined the scrapes and bruises on your arms. “I didn’t know you could be so well-behaved.” He teased as he finished tending to the worst of your wounds. You giggled in response, actually fucking giggled; it was magical and confusing as hell. “What is up with you today?” “I want you, Dean,” you replied, looking down at him through your lashes. You placed your hand on his cheek, gently pulling him closer until your lips locked. Your lips were so soft against his, and in that moment, he decided to stop questioning your personality transplant and just go with it—at least for the night.

Every tiny detail of his illicit dream flashed through Dean's mind now as he watched you across the dancefloor. Your little black dress wasn’t quite the same as in his dream, but it and everything else was damn close enough. Where your weapons were hidden was totally beyond him.

You’d been less than thrilled when you’d bumped into him at the motel, but had reluctantly agreed to team up with him for the hunt. The similarities should make him nervous, but he just couldn’t seem to make himself care in the moment. Not at the sight of you, seemingly lost to the music, dancing beneath the flashing lights. Your body was so much hotter than he’d dreamed it. He was so engrossed in the sway of your hips that he barely noticed the glare you shot him before shimmying further into the crowd.

Dean takes a swig of the beer he’d bought as a prop, attempting to clear his head from the fantastical image of your hips, naked and riding him, from the way your body curved with each move. This is gonna be a long night. With another sip of his beer, he starts walking, patrolling the club, taking stock of the exits, the staff, all the things he should be keeping tabs on.

When he sees you again, you’re seated at the bar, smiling, chatting with a bloodsucker whose hand is so far up your thigh he’s surprised you aren’t squirming. In his dreams, your skin burned hot, and your breathing hitched when he ran his hand between your legs.

He slows, trying to eavesdrop, but he can’t make out a word over the booming music and the hustle of the crowd. He wants to head up to the bar to get closer in case you need help. But he can’t afford the risk of making a scene, so he keeps walking, intent on circling the building once more before finding a vantage point he can monitor you from. But when he returns, you’ve left the bar.

Cursing under his breath, he scans his environment; he finds you on the other side of the floor. Stumbling around in the arms of the same handy bloodsucker you’d been pawing at the bar. He should have fucking known this would happen. Exasperated, he watches as you’re guided through a door with a keypad, not an exit door. You were being herded into some kind of off-limits staff area. This was not the plan.

He pulled out his phone, watching intently as he waited for the time display to change. As much as it killed him, he couldn’t hurry in, guns blazing. That would put you at even more risk. As soon as 3 minutes had passed, he checked his surroundings for fangbangers before marching to the door. Luckily, the keypad was old, and the numbers 1278 were worn. He started punching in codes until the door gave way on 1827. The hallway was clear, and he could hear commotion coming from a room at the end of the hall.

When he entered, you were anything but the helpless damsel he’d saved in his dream. You looked powerful and radiant. You were stood tall, fully dressed, and swinging your knife at one of the four vamps as they attempted to advance on you, until you locked eyes with Dean. The swing of you knife had stuck the landing, but the distraction had opened you for an attack from behind. The biggest of your opponents had grabbed you, forcing you into a full-nelson, rendering your arms almost entirely useless. Regardless, you bucked your hips up and kicked at the vamp still in front of you.

That’s when fight mode kicked in for Dean. He pulled his machete from its risky position tucked in the inside of his jeans and started swinging at the other two vampires, taking one out almost instantly. The other was smarter and faster, dodging his strikes and mouthing off every chance he got. Dean didn’t bother quipping back. This was the same vamp who’d been cosying up with you earlier, and he didn’t want to waste any more energy on him.

By the time he’d taken the vamp out, you’d gotten free and were evading the big guy. It seemed your knife was laced with some potent dead man’s blood, because the one you’d stabbed earlier was whimpering on the floor. Dean put the thing out of its misery as he crossed the room to help you.

You had to tag team the last one, taking turns distracting and swinging for it until Dean landed the decapitating blow.

He turned to you, grinning and ready to brag about taking out most of them alone, but he stopped in his tracks when he noticed the nasty gash you were cupping, leading from your shoulder and over your chest. There were more, up and down your arms. Instead, he barked, harsher than intended. “We should get out of here. Fast.”

“But there’s still more.” You argued.

“I don’t care.” His anger didn’t let up. He grabbed you by the wrist, ensuring there were no injuries there first, and began pulling you into the hall. “We’ll deal with that later, let's go.”

He’d offered you his jacket, but you’d declined. This was not how he’d dreamed it. You sat in the passenger seat of his baby, your dress torn and bloodied, your face sour, refusing to look at him. He heard you take a deep breath and braced himself for your snide comment.

“What were you thinking? You could have gotten us killed.” You didn’t even sound mad, you stated it like a fact.

He couldn’t help but do a double take as he processed your words. “Me? We had a plan, and that wasn’t it. What were you thinking, going off alone with them?”

“I had to think on my feet, and it was going perfectly until you barged in and fucked it all up. God I am so sick of you.”

“Perfect my ass! Putting yourself in dange-”

“I was fine, YOU put me in danger.” He opened his mouth to interject but you continued, going full rant. “They saw you sniffing around the club, and when you broke in, they saw you on the CCTV. It wasn’t exactly hard to put 2+2 together. You always do this, you underestimate me. I am not some damsel in distress, I can handle myself.”

The air was thick with bitter tension as he drove the rest of the way to the motel in silence. He didn’t like you going off alone like that, but maybe you had a point. Hunting wasn’t exactly the safest of jobs, and you’d made it this far without him. He should have apologised or tried to smooth things over, but instead, he asked, “Well, princess, will you at least let me patch you up?”

You watched with furrowed brows as he cocked his thumb to point at his room. He’d expected you to ignore him and head for your own room, but you agreed with a nod and crossed your arms as you followed him inside.

He didn’t try getting you to sit in his lap. You sat yourself on the end of the bed as he located his makeshift first-aid pack.

“Should I put the TV on?” He asks, knowing it’ll likely be a long, quiet process if not.

You glare, and he knows he shouldn’t be, but he’s reminded of the look you’d given him across the dancefloor earlier and everything else he’s associated with it. Eventually, you answer. “Whatever.”

He sighs, switches on the TV, and begins patching you up in silence. He tries to be gentle, but the alcohol makes you hiss and groan as he cleans you up. Every moan evokes an indecent image that makes his skin burn with inappropriate arousal. He wonders if you sound the same in bed.

When the worst of the damage is patched up, he starts cleaning up the excess blood, checking for any he might have missed. Blood from the cut across your chest has gathered and congealed in your cleavage. He hooks a finger on the low neckline of your dress and looks to your face for approval. You’re unbothered, eyes fixated on the TV screen with such distaste he wonders if inanimate objects can take offence.

He tugs at the dress, not enough to expose anything but enough to get your attention. You glance down at his hand, then to his face, and shrug before diverting your attention back to the TV. Taking that as permission, he pulls your dress down, almost certainly too far. He takes an involuntary moment to soak in the image, blood and bandages included, you were a vision in your lacy black bra.

Your deliberate coughing brought him back to the present, and he made quick work of cleaning your chest, avoiding your gaze as he worked. When he was done, you pulled your dress back up without delay. You made no move to get up, and he made no effort to move you. Instead, you continued to sit in awkward silence. Both of you too stubborn to speak first.

When you finally broke the silence, you didn’t sound angry anymore, just tired, worried. “The rest of the nest is gonna be on our trail.”

“I know.” He conferred, trying to match your energy. “But it’s almost sunrise, we have time to rest and regroup before tomorrow night.”

“And will I be allowed to fight them, or would you like to cover me in bubble wrap?” Your voice still lacked malice, just sarcasm.

Without taking the time to think through his words, Dean replied. “You can do whatever you want. Just don’t blame me when you get yourself killed, or worse turned.”

“There you go again.” You leaned away from him, rolling your eyes, exasperated. “All your mouth does is talk dumb shit.”

“My mouth does plenty, thank you very much.”

“Like what?” You ask, tone defiant as you watch him through your lashes. The words were wrong, but the intense gaze matched his fantasy. He half expected you to reach out and pull him in for a kiss. When you don’t, he does it for you. You taste like salt and booze, but your lips are so soft, they melt right into his.

When you pull away, he braces himself for you to yell, or punch, or leave, but instead, your eyes rake over his face. He notices the heat in his cheeks when you comment, “Are you blushing, Winchester? Because of me?”

“No, it’s hot in here.” He replies curtly, still not wanting to give you the upper hand.

“Funny.” You aren’t laughing as you look around the room. “I’m pretty cold.”

“You lost a lot of blood. That’s one of the symptoms.”

“Isn’t delirium also a symptom. If it’s that bad, are you taking advantage of me?” You raise brows at him, challenging him.

In return, he shoots you with the most puppy-dog concerned face he can muster. “Are you? Delirious? Should we stop?”

“No, get back over here and kiss me.” Now you reach for him, placing both hands on his cheeks and pulling him closer until your lips lock again. Mid kiss, you straddle him, holding him still with your arm around his neck as you begin to grind against his clothed erection.

He paws at the skirt of your dress until you get the hint and pull it over your head. He only gets a second to enjoy the view before you return the gesture, lifting his shirt up until he finishes the job for you. By the time he’s done, you’ve removed your bra as well. He greets the unobstructed sight of your breasts by planting himself between them, lavishing them with his mouth, sucking and nibbling at your nipples as you roll your hips against him.

Offering you reprieve, he pulls back to watch you as he dips his hand into your panties, happy to be greeted by the slick between your folds. Not bothering to tease, he plunges a finger straight in, enjoying the way your heat immediately clenches around him. He pumps the solo digit a few times before adding a second and a third, and you take each one perfectly. The sounds you make are just how he’d dreamed it, but also somehow better.

The best sound is the squeal you make as he quickly retracts his fingers and switches your position, laying you flat on your back as he straddles your thighs. You take it in your stride, however, and plant your hands on his shoulder before slipping them down his chest to hook into the waistband of his jeans. You work together to undo his belt and jeans. Dean shimmies them down just low enough to expose his dick. You must like what you see because he notices the way you lick your lips at the sight. He makes a mental note to see about putting your mouth to good use at a later time.

Your whole body seems to shiver when he runs the tip of his hardened cock between your slit, deliberately circling your clit.

“You like that?” He coos.

You respond by pushing him off you. He concedes, rolling onto his back and letting you mount him once again. “Shut up.”

He laughs but otherwise does as he’s told, barely able to keep his composure as he takes in the sight of you. You grip his cock, pumping a few times before you start lining him up with your entrance, and he prays you don’t mock his blushing again.

You don’t say anything, but you lock eyes with him as you slide his cock between your lips and sink down onto him. Fuck, you feel so fucking good, better than he could have imagined. Your walls are tight and wet around him, and he can’t help but grip onto your hips, not to force you down, but to make sure you don’t retreat.

When you reach the base, you seize all movement, presumably allowing yourself to adjust, but he can’t help rocking his hip beneath you. You both groan in sync at the feeling.

“Impatient.” You scold, but your voice is soft and dreamy.

“Can’t help it.” He returns, thrusting up again and enjoying the way your eyes roll back in response. “You feel too good, you take it so well.”

You glare at him, challenging him as you reposition your feet, readying to start, and he bites his lip in anticipation.

With no further warning, you start riding him, setting a fast, reckless pace, and releases your hips to fists at the sheets, trying to distract himself from the fact he’s already about to blow his load.

“I think I’m gonna-”

He’s cut off by the immediate narrowing of your eyes. “Don’t you dare, not until I’ve cum first. You owe me.”

“Fuck. Yes ma’am.” He groans through gritted teeth as you continue to fuck yourself on his cock.

It’s agonising, watching you sway above him, taking what you want from his body. He watches with bated breath as you start to play with your clit, pleasuring yourself. His whole-body jerks, trying to hold back when he feels your walls squeeze around him. You lol your head back, moaning to the ceiling when you finally hit your climax.

Your body slows as you try to catch your breath, but it’s Dean's turn. He sits up, lifting you by your ass just enough to ease the process of him rutting up into your leaking cunt.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum deep inside you.” He chants.

You nod, blasé and tell him; “Do it.”

As if on demand, he shoots his load, spilling inside you with a loud, animalistic groan.

Your weight falls on him, your head resting against his shoulder. He feels his own energy slowly draining as well, but that doesn’t stop him from placing absentminded kisses on the back of your neck as he carefully falls back against the bed, taking you with him. Of everything that had happened that night, cuddling was the most surprising to him.

After a few minutes he speaks up, shifting to guide you back up. His soft cock slips out, and he feels his own cum drip back onto him. “We should get cleaned up.”

“Yeah.” You nod, taking his queue, standing from bed, and heading for the bathroom to get cleaned up. “And we should really start working on a plan nightfall.”

“Maybe we should get some rest first. Regroup when we're not both exhausted.”

“Are you kidding.” Your head pokes out of the bathroom door. “They could be on our trail right now… What?”

“Nothin’.” He shrugs. All the tension you’d just released together was already building back up. “You just don’t ever fucking change.”

#supernatural reader insert #supernatural imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester smut #gilverrwrites

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satoruhour · 1 year ago

Note

If you don’t mind (tho ofc you don’t have to write it if you don’t wish to), could we get a pt 2 of that priest geto fic? Where him and reader have been secretly fucking every damn where but especially in the church ever since that night, they both realise they have a thing for breeding kink so they don’t bother with protection either. Obv they have to hide what they’re doing and reader secretly gets away from her house at night to get dicked down frequently. and he knocks her up so they ultimately run away together ( or somewhere along those lines it’s totally up to you)

We missed you!! So good to have you back :D

DOMINE DIRIGE NOS !

wc: 7.8k (when will the horrors stop) / first part here ✶

warnings: DARK CONTENT, LORE, priest!geto, fem!reader, age gap (reader is in early 20s, geto in late 20s), christian references, religious themes used in inappropriate ways, questions of religion and life, brief mention of abortion, described scenes of f! and m! masturbation, face-sitting, fingering, clit stimulation, both f! and m! receiving oral, praise, mild degradation, sex in a religious place, semi-public sex (blowjob while geto is conducting mass oop), deep-throating, lots of unprotected p -> v sex, LOTS of creampie / breeding kink, multiple rounds, abandoning home, n*sfw under the cut

“father geto?” you curl deeper into geto’s back in the rectory, the uncomfortable mattress below you just reminding you of your upbringing in this suffocating town and the proximity of everyone. since that night, the two of you have been insatiable, using the House of the Lord for anything holy and instead are filled with violent moans and constant skin-slapping. even to you, the Church has started to look darker and darker, painted with the sin of Pandæmonium’s pillars, each time you enter it.

mass is all about locking eyes with the other, a game to see who falls first. sometimes you’d come in the shortest dress you can find, staring up at him from the second pew from under your eyelashes just like how you’d suck his cock. sometimes father geto would have his hair tied up, revealing his neck and jawline — the priest had not much to experiment with, but it took equal effect on you, anyway. clenched thighs, stuttered words, fluttering eyes.

father geto fortunately finds it easier to evade parishioners after doing his morning greetings to everyone; with another older priest who didn’t request the rectory, he could hide away to stroke at his cock all he wanted while the other took over the later masses. you, however, needed to reject the holy pastor ever so often to stop your mother from thinking vile of your absence.

it still was father geto, though, so whenever you mentioned his name after morning mass, she lit up like a switchboard, happily ushering you away to spend time because it was always encouraged to improve your faith.

— improving your faith in a non-existing god, perhaps.

“you don’t have to call me father when we’re alone, baby,” geto reassured, accommodating you when you turned around to meet him halfway.

“yeah?” you whisper, like someone could hear you. it was taboo, shameful even. the neighbourhood good girl with a deadbeat father coalescing with the newly transferred priest — it was the blasphemous, sent to be burnt at the pyre sort of sin. the rectory felt odd, your house felt odd; there was no place for people like the two of you, driven by lust and forbidden love and sin in the eyes of God, but what could people do when sin just felt so right?

you relish in the father’s gasp when you grind your butt against his crotch which are concealed behind his trousers, biting your lip with a smile when you catch his small grin at your mischief. you continue your ministrations, rolling your hips and bringing his hands to your chest. your clothing has become shorter and shorter ever since you convinced him of your little sin back in the confessional booth of skimpy tops and skirts. geto takes over, fingers slipping under your camisole to pull down your bra, fondling with your tits and playing with your nipples.

“sneaky little baby, hm?”

“s-suguru—” you whine, hips bucking and cunt already clenching. “need your cock, tongue, anything—”

“i’m getting there, doll, wait for me,” he pants, hurriedly unzipping his trousers. his erection is pulsing and throbbing by now, letting out a small sigh of relief when he finally pulls down his underwear, but you’re confused when you’re turned around and before you can reach to sit yourself on him—

“sit on my face first, darling,” he slyly smiles, beckoning you forward. here, father geto suguru looks anything like a pastor and if you close your eyes and listen, the repetitive tweets of the morning mass birds sound a little sweeter and the rushing water of the stream nearby remind you of a countryside house far away from your parents, your faith, your life. but forbidden has a time limit without the luxury of listening in, so you only settle for a pout when you hear the slick noises of him pumping his cock.

“you did say tongue,” he grins, “i don’t disobey scripture.”

“i’m not the Bible, suguru,” you jest with a small smile.

“you are scripture to me — anything you say and do, i’ll follow.”

and that’s the first time it’s truly cemented in you how much father geto was truly willing to throw away, but you hardly have any time to react before he easily settles one leg over and pulls you toward his mouth. it’s so violent, the way he loves you that there’s a small hmph that sounds from his throat when your sweet, wet pussy meets his mouth. after, it’s just endless groans as he laps at your clit while you fill the rectory with your sinful moans, grinding your hips into his mouth over and over while he just hums in agreement.

“that— that’s it, useme, useme—” it comes out slurred and slippery, just like your dripping cunt and his leaking cock, wet sounds that surround the both of you as geto’s tongue continue to assault your sensitive clit. he licks and sucks endlessly that you have no choice but to grab onto his hair for support and he does to same to both your thighs.

“father suguru—! hnfuck . .” you whimper out, looking down at him with hooded eyes while he meets you with the same intensity. below you are just streams and streams of your juices flooding his chin and hair; he just ever so lightly dips his tongue down to your needy cunt, plunging it in and your back arches involuntarily, “o-oh, god!”

geto laughs into your pussy, arm still clutching your thigh but the other goes back to his neglected dick, pumping it in time with his tongue as he swirls it around and you just clutch tighter and tighter. you definitely soaked through the sheets by now, but you follow his command, riding his face over and over until you feel that familiar feeling in your stomach.

“su— suguru, i’m g’nna . .” you moan out quietly, but your priest already knows what’s in store for him, abandoning his own ministrations entirely to please you as he pulls you all the way up to his face, positively cutting off his air supply in the process but he doesn’t care. he only suckles on your clit harder and with more pressure before switching to licking, abusing your puffy clit until you’re speechless and all that comes out of you are ah’s. “cumming, cumming— fuuckk . . !”

“cum on my tongue,” suguru manages to get out in between breaths, “give me all y’r cum, darling.”

those words are enough to send you over the edge, hitting your high with a soundless whine as your hips roll into his face and relentless torture, body continuing to convulse in his hold at the climax. if, before your continued praises sung God, now they were just full of father geto’s name, enunciated through the lips like a passionate blessing before mealtime. suguru, suguru, suguru, even Lucifer was ready to make ready his throne for the both of you.

“shit— sweet as always . .” father geto moans, slurping up all of your cum and making a mess, so much so that you’re giggling shyly at the lewd noises. you rest upon his heaving chest, noting wet patches that stain his black shirt — he came as well. “you treat me so good, don’t you, doll?”

your face twists, “i think i should be the one to say that, father geto.”

“don’t—”

“i like it. rolls off the tongue nicely,” you smirk, easily scooting downwards before settling your pulsing cunt onto his softening cock. but he knows you can get him up at any instance, just as you start grinding your clit along his shaft. the pleasure-filled moan he sounds out never gets old, echoed at the front of the Church of not, “father geto.”

all he shoots you is an unimpressed look, but he can’t keep his look up because the sight of you always inspires a thousand sermons and questions of morality.

“i like the dangerous aspect of it, father geto,” you reason with a sultry voice, grabbing his hardening dick and teasing his weeping tip along your folds. the both of you shiver. “it reminds me of how a holy man like you so easily fell for some pussy and got addicted to it.”

“pretty slut’s developing a dirty mouth,” he laughs, “carry on.”

“fucked a clueless, innocent girl in such a holy place,” you whined when his tip nudges past your pussy and into your gummy walls, spreading you open so deliciously.

“need my help?” you shake your head defiantly, sinking down slowly with calculated steps, gasps escaping your mouth as his cock continues to impale you inch by inch.

“and then claimed her right at the apse of the Church. on the altar, where bread is b-broken and wine is shared.” your eyebrows have knitted together from the pure stretch, descending down fully where you sit a little uncomfortably. no matter how many times you take him, he’s still big and full in you, needing a few moments to adjust as you wiggle your hips.

“can man prevent himself from chasing after his darkest desires?” father geto asks, bumping up his hips just a little and he grins at the little whine you let out.

“no, but God can,” you reason and yet you know you wouldn’t want anything to have changed between the two of you. you still would have wanted father geto’s downfall, you still would have wanted to see him stroking his cock behind the velvet curtains of the confession box.

you momentarily lock eyes with geto, drunk off the feeling of his length in you and the friction of your clit against his pelvis that you naturally gravitate towards him, feeling tired from all the grinding from earlier. he coos, receiving you without any judgement just like how a good priest should do and you feel most at home in his hug.

“what if my God is my darkest desire?” you barely make the connection before geto starts to thrust up into you, not too harshly but not too gently, either. you limp forward and just let him do the work, praising and worshipping you with every snap of his hips from below you.

“o-oh, baby, you’re so tight . .” suguru mumbles, littering kisses all over your neck and face while you struggle to keep yourself up, held up by your weak elbows as you try to meet his eyes. it’s the purple eyes you want to see as he fucks you dumb on his cock, full of lust and only on you as you drop all of your walls for him to enter. suguru tries his best, too, treating you as gently as he can out of the bedroom, which frankly isn’t much, but he tries. he brushes away your hair when it gets into your tongue during communion, he massages your knees in the rectory, he brings chocolate cake whenever he can.

he tries in the bedroom, too, but you are just too much for him. too much in the way that the devil’s whispers start to sound more and more like O Emmanuel and too much in the way he can feel the swell of his heart when even your name is mentioned. father geto doesn’t want to name it love, because in his position it will simply come off as manipulation, deceit.

father geto needs to know you are willing, too.

“father g-geto,” you whine, hands upon his face and sweat lining your brow, “faster, p-please—”

he chokes out a moan, “o-of course, sweetheart.”

you just feel so damn good, clenching so tightly around him that he cannot stop rutting his pelvis into you. he can feel the ripple of your ass with each thrust, the snugly fit tip hitting your g-spot ever so often to pull out the most beautiful moans from you. you’re both so wet and sloppy that you both can hear it — the squelching of your cunt paired with the pre-cum of his cock, mixing at your connected bodies in noisy pap! pap! pap!’s.

“s-suguruuu . . pleasepleaseplease.”

“whaddaya want, baby? words,” geto slurs as well, hips never stilling but now grinding in circles. his glutes and thighs burn but he won’t stop until you tell him what you want.

“i w-want your cum, inside me,” you mewl out like it’s a secret, like he hasn’t been cumming inside you for the past multiple times that you meet, “w-want you to breed me.”

suguru chuckles like it’s a dangerous bet, like he hasn’t emptied his balls deep in your pussy before, “you’re still on the pills, right, baby?”

ah . . the pills, that’s what you wanted to ask him to get more of at the beginning.

you nod hurriedly, “yes— i am, f-fuck—!”

“oh . . my darling’s close,” father geto grunts out, angling his hips so his cock reaches deeper in you, arms trapping you in an eternal embrace like Eve and the devil’s Serpent. you give him lazy, intoxicated kisses, sucking at the skin until there’s bound to be purple and he does the same to yours, albeit lighter.

“y . . yeah, i’m yours, suguru,” you whimper softly, voice breaking from the sheer pleasure once your hand sneaks in between to rub softly at your clit. you suck in a breath when both his cock and your hand find that sweet spot, moans suddenly overflowing into his neck with repeated “yes”’s and profanities until you cum with a cry of suguru’s name, juices spraying everywhere. it’s messy and filthy, your cum soaking his balls and staining the sheets.

“that’s it, thaaat’s it . . squirt all over my cock, baby,” geto continues to ram into your pussy as he praises, hips faltering in the slightest bit, “that’s a good girl.” it only makes you clamp down on his cock harder, making him hiss.

“i w-won’t last long, sweetheart—” he warns you but it’s not enough before he’s stilling in you, pupils blown wide as he shoots spurt upon spurt of hot cum into your cunt, filling you up to the brim as his cock twitches in you. you shiver at the feeling, breathing heavily in his arms as he continues to pump you full. slowly you recover but he stays plugged in, heading back to your position on elbows.

“she’s satisfied?”

you grin with a sigh, “very.”

“that’s all i ever want.” father geto smiles, gently bringing your head down for a gentle kiss on your lips. it turns heated soon enough, the gesture prompting your hips to move again on his very sensitive dick. but with the distant clack of shoe upon cobblestone that increases in volume, the both of you freeze.

“father geto?” it’s a boy’s voice, possibly one of the altar boys.

“what is it?”

the boy seemed to be relieved, as if stepping near the rectory was a sin in itself, “father nanami unfortunately can’t lead the night mass at eight tonight, will you be available?”

you shoot him a disappointed frown, but it is still his job after all. all he manages is a forehead peck.

“a-ah, yes, i am,” father geto thinks if it’s worth asking the next questions, “how many people usually show up to the night mass?”

“not too many, father geto, but it serves mostly the truckers and people in our town who have night shifts.”

you nod since you’ve never attended the night mass at all. father geto has conducted it; it was right on that fateful night where you had texted him about an unnamed confession.

“thank you, go in peace . .” geto shouts his reply and then looks at you with a small smile, speaking softly, “i have an idea.”

it’s only the afternoon when you make it back to your house for lunch before heading back out again like you planned with suguru earlier, following him from a safe distance until you’re out of earshot and sight of the congregation, even if no one was there. he kisses you gently in the sacristy, body pressed up against decades old of wooden cabinets and drawers. you have no idea what your priest has up his sleeve, so your eyes blindly follow his figure that brings out a toolbox proudly, taking out a hammer.

“don’t even know why the sacristy has a toolbox.”

“. . you’re insane,” your mouth drops open when he gives a hint of homily and sermon that you connect the dots, following him a little worried to the apse. there, stands the podium where he gives his readings and sermons, hands going straight for the board that’s nailed shut. turning the hammer around, using the claw at the back of it to remove the nails that hold it down, removing the nails of the lectern one by one with muscles bulking under his robes before it’s revealed.

“looks . .” he whistles lowly at the pristine condition of the wooden podium, “. . i forgot they gifted me a new podium when i transferred.”

“new priest privileges.” you nudge him in the side.

“i’m probably going to get transferred out soon, too,” he jokes with an arm around your waist, and in a perfect world, this would be the two of you looking at your newly built home in those terrible films. instead, you’re here, faced with temptation and sin.

“are you gonna be okay? we don’t have to do it if you don’t want to—” you cut him off with a hand to his crotch, sparing a glance towards the double doors. the church was small, yes, but there was still a good amount of people that attended it, even if the night mass garnered less.

“i’ll be okay, suguru. i’m wet just thinkin’ about it,” the other only hums at your revelation, bending down with you as you slot yourself into the dark place, pockets of light fighting to get in from the amateur job of the podium, “you better go prepare.”

“you’re a gem.” with a soft kiss to your forehead, father geto leaves just as the first parishioner shows up for mass: a whopping 43 minutes before the start of mass. you’re not surprised by the faith in this town, sometimes coming in to complete a rosary, do some extra prayers or partake in confession — but you realise you’re going to have to stay in this lectern for 43 minutes and more before he starts his homily. it’s a perfect fit, but trying not to rattle the box while adjusting yourself seemed to be the most difficult thing.

he had no helpers tonight, no altar boys, such a prime time to commit such a foul act in the eyes of God while he finishes up on the Gospel and you feel your fingertips tingling when he walks from the altar to the podium, dress shoes clicking against the wood of the floor of the rickety Church.

thank god the alb is huge and so is the podium, and thank god there aren’t any pews at the sides of the church. you know he spares some glances, too, so after a few moments of silence to reflect on the words of the Gospel, you’re lifting the alb right to where his boner was. you palm the area in wonder, at the clear sin of the act that you’re currently committing and this is all new to you apart from fucking when the place is empty.

“so big . .” it’s like he hears your whispers, cock twitching under your hold when you slowly remove it from his trousers, slotting his hardening dick through the boxers and zip hole without bringing too much attention. you trail your thumb over his tip that’s leaking pre, a difficult thing to see in such a dark place but you know it’s there when you kitten lick the mushroom tip.

you can hear a falter in his sermon, a stutter of words. leaning forward, you awkwardly switch onto your knees before wrapping your mouth around his length and it’s more clear now when you’re closer to the source of sound.

“. . ory of G-God, excuse me,” geto coughs as if he’s got something stuck in his throat, pulling at his chasuble that feels like choking him at the neck. your mouth continues its teasing, holding onto his thighs as you continue to suck on his fat cock. even now, you struggle to take it all in your mouth, pumping at the bottom while you bob your head. you can only pray that the broadcasted words of the sound system can cover up the obscene noises that your mouth makes.

“mmhh . . j—just, sorry,” the less-than-thirty church-goers don’t pay any mind when his hand snakes down from the top of the lectern toward you, offering his fingers and it’s like salvation after being stuck in there for God knows how long. you grasp at the hand, using your hand to stroke his shaft while you suck on his fingers. in a moment of bravery, you stick your head out as the other wills not to look down, but with a calculated glance to everyone that’s either asleep or zoning out, father geto rewards himself with one gaze while you switch from fingers to his cock.

“oh . .” he restricts himself before any pet name can escape, seeing your pliant mouth take all of him just like that first night but someone coughs and it snaps him out of the daydream, hand going back up.

“we should prioritise the Lord at every part of our day,” geto breathes heavily when he feels you deepthroat him, hands dripping the sides of the podium that you were sure the cheap wood would splinter under his grip. you focus on getting him in your mouth when he steps closer to you and you let out a small sound of surprise; he takes that small break to quickly bun up his hair, all wet from the sweat on his neck.

“mmf—!” there’s a small relief that leaves your priest’s mouth at having his tip hit the back of your throat, muttering a lot of uhm’s and repeated words. he wants to cum, and he wants to cum quick from how his hips thrust into your warm mouth, wanting to do away with conducting mass and to just be in your pliant pussy.

“. . a-and to make sure all our actions honour the Lord our Saviour,” his hips continue to move, continually buried up to the hilt in your mouth over and over as he fucks your mouth. you receive it willingly, hands taking action to play with his balls and that has his thighs tensing up. “and while you continue to live your life in praise—”

“f-fuck,” it’s whispered away from the microphone but you hear it, length twitching in response to your hands before you come off with to breathe. both hands stroke his cock while you suckle on the tip, driving him into insanity that he’s struggling to finish his sermon.

“you’ll be given the greatest graces in Heaven,” father geto shoots his cum down your throat and it’s so much, muscles pulled taut as he continues to buck his hips needily. you can feel him slump forward and out of breath while you continue to milk him and his words start to slur just a tad bit and while you clean him of his semen, you giggle to yourself under the podium as he gathers himself for another look down at you.

the final blow is how you stick out your tongue to show him the cum that’s left, a grin spreading that he just has to give you his hand again as you hold it gently, “—together in eternal life with God Almighty and Christ.”

“i hope i wasn’t too obvious on the lectern two weeks ago,” father geto laughs into your neck at your place, seemingly so long ago where he decided to step into your room and questioned your thesis on Paradise Lost. it felt like it was just last week he was bringing cake to your place, sitting in on dinner, walking with you around the town. now you sit in his lap in the living room of your house, unassuming because of the five day vacation that your parents decided to take. your mother stayed with your father for what, you never could figure out, but with the baby dropped off at the family across the street (your mother knew you’d be busy with university work) and them out to the next town, you did what every university student would do.

you sneaked priest geto in on sunday night, letting him take you on every surface he knew you’d spread your legs for him on, and now sat, freshly showered and the television turned down to a low, you could only hope this was what a life of matrimony could look like. all the dreams and fancy stories your mother tells you, you think you could twist this sick relationship and forbiddenness into something normal for at least five days if you convince yourself enough.

“you were stuttering on every sentence,” you mumble into his hair that starts to smell more and more like yours, arms encircled around his neck while he sits in a mere singlet. “you like my mouth too much.”

“ego te adoramus.” father geto hums quietly, pulling away from the embrace as he looks up at you and he sighs. if only he had found you sooner before starting his theology degree, before he could hear God’s call for him into priesthood. he would be happy being your childhood friend, anything.

“do you ever wish you weren’t a priest?”

geto swallows, brushing away the strands from your face and adjusts you on his lap, “sometimes.”

“my parents were open with my choice, as they always are, but they valued how much i liked to explore and try new things. they only said that i should choose this path carefully because they knew time is something that no one can get back,” he explains, hands stroking your sides carefully and you let yourself dream that you were just a normal couple, “some friends were weird about it, telling me i would miss having sex and whatnot, but i still value my relationship with God and the many things i’ve learned from my journey in the seminary.”

“but?”

“i didn’t expect to . . meet someone like you so soon,” suguru laughs when you shout a small hey!, feigning annoyance, “someone so bright, and loving and kind. someone that embodies what Jesus and the Church stands for, and something i’ve never seen in ages. unconditional compassion.”

“your praise is too heavy,” you swat away his hand, only attributing your disposition to your mother’s exemplary way of raising you, “is simple kindness that hard to see?”

“you shadow a lot of priests in conducting masses, baptising people, giving first communions, and you see a lot of personalities — some that are vile for people that regularly go to Church. it’s disheartening to see Christians who are clearly wrapped up in their privilege and pride and think they’re the most important religion to exist. you hear it in history books, through word of mouth.” geto looks just like a boy, frustrated with the world that he lives in that a scowl settles into his features and his hands ball fabric into tight fists.

you manage to relax him a little, running your thumbs over his face and hands; he twines his fingers with yours. “i thought that if i went in, i could at least try to reshape the community. bit by bit, open their minds about abortion, about the queer community, but it is proving hard when the first church you’re transferred to is a small town.” that gets a giggle out of you.

“you’re not wrong, suguru, for trying your hardest. it’s so admirable. i’m trying to unlearn things about the Church that my mom has taught me too, and it’s all interesting reads alongside my second year of uni. if you can change one mind, there’s the potential to change many others.”

geto lets you rest your forehead on his, closing his eyes to just feel you, “thank you.”

he’s not even sure when to tell you that he’s fallen in love, the hardest he’s ever done since in high school with his first love, or in university studying theology, and he’s not even sure it’s love. all he knows is that when he looks at you, a life until silver hair is all he can think about.

“you can do it,” you break the ice softly, placing a peck on his lips, “i believe in you.”

“i don’t think they would wanna believe a sex-crazed priest, darling, not when i wanna give you the life you deserve.”

you sigh, hiding your face, “i don’t think we can achieve that, suguru, not while you’re still married to the Church and i’m supposed to be celibate.”

“that’s out the window—” and he laughs when you slap him on the bicep, finding that you’d want him to laugh more. he does it sometimes when he gives sermons, recounting a specific story about his mother, or while baptising a baby. it’s pure like a young boy’s laughter, something to be protected, the way his eyes crinkle and lips stretch . .

“what if i break priesthood for you?”

what?

“no . .” you brows furrow, “don’t say stuff like that.”

“why not, my love?” you continue to shake your head, standing from your place on his lap and he’s confused — wouldn’t you want this?

“don’t call me that—” your safe space, your room is the only place all you can think in, and you escape to it before he can catch a thread of your clothing. father geto calling you that means he’s officially fallen, chained to the river Styx. the descent was fun, but you didn’t want to be the reason why he’d truly throw away all of his hard work, you didn’t want him to be shamed, nor did you want to be called out for being a temptress. self-serving while serving others — maybe that’s how Christians operated and you were the walking proof of it.

geto thinks he’s messed up big time and unsure of the reason why as he lets you stay in your room to cool down. he only sends out a text simply to check on you, but it takes you an hour before you’re ready; once he hears the click of your door, he’s heading up the stairs and pushing open the door gently.

just like that first night, he’s cautious when he enters your room as if touching your sacred place will have him reciting rosaries as penance, as an apology for staining your heart and your body. you stand.

“i don’t want you to leave everything behind just for me . .” you sound out, sniffling softly and the priest’s heart already shatters at the sound, “all your hard work, the years you did in the seminary and then just dumping it all just for a chance with a woman who you don’t even know whether will be suitable as your lover.”

geto’s expression softens in the dark room, only illuminated by fluorescent light from your bedside table lamp — “i won’t leave anything behind; all those years, all the studies, all of it mattered because somehow it still led me to you. if that isn’t God’s doing, i don’t know what else it was. my definition of Christianity has been entirely reimagined, entirely changed when i look at you, a person filled with nothing but pure lovingness and soft-heartedness and yet i still feel proud when you said you wished harm on your father because i know that Christ didn’t ask men to gouge their eyes out for nothing.”

he grabs your hands, stroking the back of your palms and stepping close to you as much as you will let him. suguru plants feather-like kisses onto skin before continuing, “i will always carry my Christianity with me, the shame, its history and if i fall, so be it. Lucifer had fallen many times after, crouching by Eve’s ear to whisper sin, turning into a serpent to give her the forbidden fruit, sentenced to rule Hell because he himself is Hell.”

“and are you dragging me down with you?”

“i have been dragged to the darkest pits of Hell from the moment i saw you, and if anything, while i worship God, i cannot ignore the olive branch that you hold out to me like a saving grace, like you ascend the same pedestal that the Trinity sits on.”

you swallow, eyes breaking contact and he’s quick to rectify that, both palms on your cheeks and your face is tilted upwards.

“our God will always be there for repentance if you wish so, but allow me to indulge in the blasphemy and filthiness and sacrilege of craving someone so desperately that my body burns from thinking about her and my knees want to strike the Earth whenever she’s around me.”

the sentence takes you aback before he’s leaning forward, but abruptly stops short— it’s rushed, can i kiss you?

“yes. yes, suguru—”

and he kisses you with the force of a thousand suns and the most detrimental winds of the pacific, arms going from your face right to your body as he wraps you in his love. geto deepens the kiss just as he always has, but the feelings that spark in you differ greatly from just mindless kissing during sex. it’s full of passion, full of possibly everything he’s kept bottled up as he walks you to your bed, yelping in surprise when the back of your knees hit the mattress.

“do you still have your pills, my love?”

your fingers bunch up the same sweater he wears on the first day, “i . . ran out . . a while ago.”

“i’m surprised those pills work even after i cum so much in you,” that really draws a hearty laugh from your stomach, “but whatever happens, i’ll be here.”

“the feeling’s just too good—” you giggle, squealing when father geto lifts you off the floor and puts you on the bed.

“if you test positive, and if you want to keep it or abort it, i’m okay,” geto hovers over you, looking at you with so much love you wonder how you miss it the many times you’ve been together, “i’ll support you in everything that you do.”

a peak of silver shines in the moonlight under his sweater and you realise this feels like the first time you lost control over your lust, the first time you touched yourself. like heeding a call, his crucifix falls from the safety of his sweater and almost hits you in the face if not for suguru pulling away in worry.

“was it just like this?” he teases with a small smirk, knees already nudging your legs apart, “you imagined me fucking you with this dangling in your face?” your face heats up at the mention, at the fact he still manages to remember that confession and you nod whilst biting your lip.

“well, you get to live it now,” geto grins, leaning down to plant a kiss to your lips before having his way with you.

and have his way did he — you aren’t even sure what round you’re on at the moment, simply subjected to getting you face smushed into your pillow as he pounds into you from behind. geto grunts as he eases his cum-filled cock back into your sweet cunt, hands travelling everywhere over your sweaty back.

“are you okay, baby?”

you turn your head with arms still buried in the pillow, a cock drunk smile on your face, “splendid.”

“goin’ in— shiit . .” geto sinks into you easily, your mixed juices proving easy before getting himself right up to the hilt. his mouth hangs open in pleasure, pants leaving both your lips before he starts to thrust and the wetness is just straight-up obscene. with a wordless tug, father geto brings you close to him, wrapping an elbow around your neck while the other settles for your tummy, feeling the muscle that curls around you. he doesn’t trap you so tightly, simply holding your limp body up as his pelvis rams into you.

“your pussy’s just so good, darling,” he mutters into your neck as your head tilts back in ecstasy while your body trembles in geto’s hold.

“s’full, suguru . .” you whine, hands flailing for his toned arms that encircle your body while he thrusts, cum spilling from where you were connected onto your sheets. it was a blessing your parents were out because father geto doesn’t hold back with the way he fucks you, voice carrying throughout the house and permeating the walls that you hoped the neighbours wouldn’t hear.

going for multiple rounds meant the two of you were highly sensitive, jolting when his hand sneakily drew circles along your clit and matched his pace, while his length in you kept twitching and pulsing from the way your gummy walls wrap around him. “s-suguru — i need you, p-please—”

“i’m here, sweetheart,” geto chokes out, hand wrapping around the expense of your neck and turning your face, indulging himself in a sinful kiss that you return immediately. tongue and saliva is everywhere, hands and hips never slowing down when it comes to you and your sweet pussy. “i’m here, always, amie.”

“i’m gonna c— fuck— shit,” you tighten around his cock at the name, moaning into his mouth like a mantra, like a mystery that cannot be solved as he cums with a guttural groan into you and you shiver from the feeling of him filling you that you forget all about your own pleasure, body shaking with mini orgasms instead. “lay forward . .”

it’s softly spoken, and you obey, eyes fluttering close when he pulls out slowly and geto’s fixated on the drip of his cum that falls from your pussy. flipping you over instantly, he smears your juices together and all over your centre, smiling at how your legs close in on each other at the sensitivity. his tip’s filled with your cum, a messy painting of your repeated rounds.

“you’re the most stunning right here,” he breathes out as he rests on his calves, cock still hard. his hand trembles as he strokes himself, moaning softly at the warmth that he misses already and he’s brought to attention again when you whimper softly. you’re fingers play lazily with your folds, finger rubbing circles into your clit and all he can think about is pumping you full of his cum again when you look at him from under your eyelashes, with a subtle pout and the plea of the eye.

“fuck me again, father geto,” you mumble, “fuck me until i’m full of your cum.”

the priest only grunts lowly at that, trailing his angry tip along your pussy and collecting your juices before slipping in. the both of you gasp at the sensation, more of you when his hands close around your knees and push. he’s forcing your legs right up to your chest the same time he enters you, sending you deeper into desperation that you writhe on the bed.

“ohh . . tha’s a perfect pussy right there . .” suguru slurs, body pushed against your bent legs as his cross swings back and forth like an omen, like a crow watching your movements, “will you be mine, my darling?”

your voice comes out in high-pitched whines at his question, so intimate, so loving in such a dirty space. you can only manage nods when he starts to move, this new position allowing him to reach much, much deeper into you that you preen at the overwhelming feelings that bubble in your chest.

“yesyesyes! r-right there, suguru—” your back arches off your childhood bed, where you first prayed, where you first read the Bible, where you did your homework, where you first fingered yourself, all overthrown by the sheer blasphemy that geto suguru wished to indulge in, and you give it to him just like that, “f-fuck! love your cock in me, father!”

“o-oh . . you’re playing a dangerous game, c-calling me that, baby,” his eyes also struggle to stay open, committing your pleasure-filled face to memory as your jaw slacks and your eyes roll back. he can see your tits move with his rough thrusts as well, licking his lips while feeling you fuck him back, “are you close?”

“mhmm—” you’re humming, mumbling incoherent sentences at this point as your mind fogs at the neck-deep euphoria you were in. with the room that’s filled with sex to the nasty, sloppy noises of his balls hitting your ass, and soaking wetness that can be heard from a mile away, the both of you are lost to the claws of Hell. geto knows you’re close with the way your cunt tightens and your breathing escalates, using his thumb to rub at your clit and now you truly feel like you’re going insane.

“c-close . . haah—” your eyes try to stay open to look at the sight above you: messy-haired and body lined with sweat, the beautiful entity of abstinence and temptation all in one person. you fumble with his shoulders, wanting to pull him closer so you can admire him up close while he drives you to your high. the moment of vulnerability only spurs geto on, drawing out the brutal, carnal need he has for you.

“is that it? you wanted this?” he grunts out through gritted teeth, “you wanted me to fuck your pussy until it knows the shape of my cock?” the words muttered sends goosebumps throughout your body. you nod, “you wanted me to defile this pretty pussy so no one else can fuck you, isn’t that right?”

you whimper at the words as he pushes your legs further into your chest, “cum on my cock, darling.”

and you do. generous with it, you’re gushing all over his length as he continues fucking you through your overstimulation, thumb slowing its ministrations on your puffy clit as he chases his own climax. “taking my cock so well, so good like the good slut she is,” the other says through a small grin, hips stuttering when you give him a small yeah in return.

“another load for you, baby,” father geto groans out loudly before he switches to quick, fast thrusts into your warm, welcoming pussy before cumming with a whine, shooting thick ribbons of white deep into your womb. your moans are swallowed by geto as he continues to fill you to the brim, painting your insides and enjoying your slow, needy kisses.

“she’s had her fill,” you mumble softly, feeling sleepy while the other only hums in agreement. slowly, geto lets your legs down which only plop down on the bed, unsheathing himself from you and relishing in the way the cum dribbles out, glob after glob of cum leaving your pussy and onto the sheets, “are you okay, suguru?” he takes your shaky hand, interlocking your fingers with his as he scoots up to you, closer until he’s just over you.

“always better with you here.” you roll your eyes, tugging on the crucifix and pulling him into you where your lips collide, feeling him collapse by your side even as your mouths continue their movements. all you do is smother each other with hands, one through his sweaty locks and his grabbing your waist. you want to live through the feeling of his front against yours for eternity, deepening the kiss with your tongue and moaning softly when his fingers squeeze your ass secretly.

“you just stay here and i’ll clean you up,” with one last peck to your temple, father geto navigates your house like he lives there, getting a rag and wetting it before he cleans you up gently, fabric travelling along your skin like a kiss of hellfire as he massages your legs, your arms. there’s a multitude of things before the two of you succumb to slumber, going to the toilet, grabbing something to eat and then wallowing in some late night conversations (“do you think you find me in other universes?” / “i’ll find you in every one.”) until finally, you two settle in each other’s arms.

it’s like a still painting that would be studied by future literature students, scrutinised by art critics all over the world of a sacrilegious relationship that should not have place for love, that should not have place for purity, but the feeling of geto suguru’s arms from behind wound tightly and protectively around your physique feels like both the good and bad of the secular world. love and lust can coexist.

just as father geto worships, your luggage is quickly packed up a few weeks later alongside a pregnancy test that looks awfully reminiscent of the cross in the church. picture frames emptied, laptop and papers packed, a barren land of what used to be the place of a God-serving, holy girl — and even if knowledge caused her downfall, she was more than willing to own up to it. the room looked larger and drab with everything gone; you aren’t even sure how you fit everything into the luggage.

the fallen angels watch over your encounters with crinkles of the paper of your farewell letter, the squeaky floorboards, and the atmosphere of the night sounding like vacuum from its sheer silence as you snuck out of the house and into the stark night, hands clasped within each other’s while gravel below your feet reminded you of your situation. you weren’t sure if you were walking to salvation or away from it, but at least you knew Eden was by your side, with the lavender scent of your shared shampoo on both your heads and his saccharine words.

after walking for what felt like forever to avoid detection, geto waves excitedly to a car in the distance which seemed to house two men — one blonde that looks awfully like father nanami and the other, a white-haired man.

“i called up some friends,” suguru brings your connected hands to his lips and his tired eyes soften even further, pressing soft pecks along your fingers and face. your priest catches you in a sensual kiss, humming into it and mumbling sweet nothings that sound just like Lucifer in Eve’s ear, but you’re too enamoured with the sparks you leave on one another to notice the commencement of your coronation at Pandæmonium.

“we’ll be okay, amie. ego te amo ut dum stellae luceant.”

“Rise, then, to the thrones of Moloch and Paimon, of Belial and Beelzebub, of the infamous angel who challenged his Creator and clawed his way from the Stygian pool to Pandæmonium made of demon blood and soot-filled fingertips. Rise to Lucifer, and take your rightful place on the throne overflowing with hate and vice and villainy, and rule Hell just as how he would’ve wanted it.”

a/n: another insane piece .. pls dont look / tagging @mysugu @slttygeto @screampied @suguruplsr @na-t0 @peachsayshi

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