#i don’t even know what tags this cult uses | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kwanisms · 19 days ago

Text

Kinktober 「10:28」 — k.soonyoung

�� seventeen menu | hoshi menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ weretiger!Soonyoung × fem!Reader wc: 3.3k summary: Normally during his heat, Soonyoung stays as far away from his girlfriend as he can for fear of scaring her away but he can’t help himself when she comes by to drop some soup off seeing as he told her he’s sick. genres/themes/au: smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, mentions of: food consumption, cat anatomy; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: sorry for skipping two days in a row. I will be tacking those on at the end of Kinktober just like the others I missed so don’t worry. Jisung’s I just lost track of time and Christian’s fell on game day and I didn’t even realize it. I’ll get them done and added to the end of Kinktober, I promise lol anyway, here is our resident cult leader, Soonie and his tiger agenda. Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you thought and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), heat cycles, rough sex, unprotected sex (just don’t do this. Use protection lol), non-human genitalia (like yunho, Soon’s got a barbed d!ck because cat. Don’t like it, don’t read it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idc), scent marking (f receiving), biting (f receiving), use of pet names (hers: baby, kitten, beautiful, etc.; his: babe, Soonie, baby, etc.), I think i got all of them but let me know if I missed any! kinks: heat cycles + rough sex dialogue prompt: ❛❛ You heard me. Take. It. Off. Now. ❜❜

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“Kwon Soonyoung, I know you're home! Let me in, damn it!”

Soonyoung raised his head as he sat with his back against the door. He'd lost track of how long he'd been sitting there while you stood outside his apartment door, knocking, ringing the bell, demanding to be let in. He'd lost track of how many times he'd almost given.

Almost.

It's not that he didn't want to see you, he did. He wanted to see you more than anything, but he knew if he let you into his apartment, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from jumping you. Especially now that he could smell you.

It was always a rough time for him when he went into heat. Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't just female animals that went into heat, males also went into heat too and as a weretiger, Soonyoung was no exception. He'd spent most of his formative years dealing with it on his own and for a long time, he avoided being intimate with anyone because of the weird physiological changes to his body.

Unlike many werecreatures, Soonyoung's curse was a generational one and he was not bitten or scratched. His was passed from father to son and inherited by blood. The changes lay dormant until a boy started to go through puberty. By the time he was 18, Soonyoung had gone through just under two hundred and thirty full moon transformations.

And now, at twenty eight years of age, he'd been through over three hundred and fifty transformations. His heat always came the week leading up to the full moon. He was always consumed with an insatiable need to fuck something and he was very good at holding himself back.

Until you came along.

The sweet, caring, and unsuspecting girl who lived across the courtyard from him in the same apartment as him but on the other side of the complex. From his balcony, Soonyoung could see your balcony and the windows that looked into your apartment.

You kept an assortment of potted plants on your balcony and had installed some sort of netting or mesh to sort of close in the area which made sense because as soon as it went up, he saw an orange tabby cat lounging at the top of a cat tree.

Know you liked cats gave Soonyoung the drive to talk to you the next time he saw you in the courtyard with what he thought was little success but his poorly executed joke still managed to make you laugh and get him your number.

From then on, he was hooked and the moment you invited him over for dinner, he was a goner. One date turned into two and then three and soon, he had the privilege of calling you his girlfriend.

You both maintained separate spaces in the building and he found it kind of cute, his girlfriend living across the courtyard from him. Your cats, which he learned there were actually two, were the sweetest creatures on earth and absolutely adored him. The girl, a white one with orange markings and long fur, was named Pad Thai and the boy, the short hair orange tabby, was named Cheezit.

Soonyoung had taken to calling them his children and joked with his friends that you had full custody and he got visitations. It was a joke you took in stride and accepted fully, sending silly videos of the cats pretending to use your phone and making silly voices for them, speaking to their dad. It often made his day all that much brighter when he couldn’t come visit you.

Soonyoung had yet to tell you about his condition, only mentioning that he wasn’t like most guys, urging that he wasn’t just saying that and that it was a thousand percent true. He just hadn’t found the right time to tell you exactly how different he was. How does one even go about telling their partner that they’re a weretiger?

It was a conversation Soonyoung knew needed to happen but it just hadn’t yet. Which is why he was stuck in this situation now with you pounding on the door to be let in.

Soonyoung had started telling you that his once a month disappearance was just him coming down with something. He started with the usual excuses, the flu, the cold, stomach flu, even covid but he was starting to run out of excuses. He also hated using illness as an excuse because your immediate response was to offer to bring him medicine and food, usually in the form of soup, stew, or broth. He always gave the same excuse for not opening the door.

He didn’t want to get you sick.

At first, you took it as your boyfriend being cautious and caring but soon, you started to get suspicious and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up the charade much longer. He was going to have to come clean and tell you the truth much sooner rather than later.

A conversation he had been dreading ever since asking you to be his girlfriend.

The wood behind him shook as another series of loud knocks rang out, no doubt you beating your fist against the door. “Kwon Soonyoung!” you shouted. He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut, as if it might make you leave faster. He felt awful. He hated ignoring you but in his mind, it was for the best when he was in heat. He couldn’t risk scaring you off and losing you.

Another series of knocks shook the door, which was surprising given your somewhat smaller stature. For one so little, you sure were strong. And loud. “Kwon Soonyoung! If you do not open this door right now, we are done!”

Soonyoung’s eyes opened quickly and he turned his head to look back at the door. ‘She wouldn’t…’ he thought to himself. “I mean it, Soonyoung! If you don’t open this door, consider us through!” Something in your tone made him scramble up to his feet, hastily pulling at the locks separating you from him. He could tell you weren’t kidding.

He kept the chain on, opening the door only a few inches as he looked out into the hall at you. He held his breath as he took in your frame. You’d showered recently, he could smell the scent of your shampoo and body wash, mixing with your natural scent and making his cock twitch in his pants.

On your face was a furious expression and his heart sank immediately. If he had cat ears, this is where they would flatten back against his head in fear. You were terrifying when you were mad. He’d never been on the receiving end of your anger before nor had he really seen it in action.

“H-hey,” he stammered. His eyes dipped down to see the thermos in your hand that no doubt held a homemade soup, stew, or broth of some kind but he couldn’t be sure with how tightly the lid was screwed on nor with how overpowering your scent was.

“Don’t you hey me,” you said, your eyes narrowing at him. “Open the door and let me in.” Soonyoung grimaced. He wanted more than anything to let you in but he knew if he did, there was no telling how he’d react to having you so close when he was aching, burning, to be touched. It wasn’t a good idea on many levels.

“I don’t wanna get you sick,” he murmured, keeping his voice low. You scoffed, placing a hand on your hip and looking every bit the sassy girlfriend he knew and loved. “Don’t try that bullshit with me,” you snapped. “I know you aren’t sick,” you added. Soonyoung’s eyes widened as he looked up from the thermos in your hand to meet your hardened gaze. “Wh-what?” he breathed.

“I spoke to Jihoon,” you started to explain. “He told me the truth.” Soonyoung’s stomach sank as the realization that his best friend had outed him to you. ‘Well fuck,’ he thought. It looked like he was going to have to have a talk with Jihoon.

“So let me in. We need to talk.” Soonyoung sighed and closed the door, undoing the chain before pulling the door open for you to enter his apartment. He shut the door behind you and prepared for the storm.

You didn’t unload on him immediately, instead sliding your shoes off and walking towards the kitchen where you set the thermos down. He followed, hands tucked in his pockets as he watched you move around his kitchen, pulling out a bowl and a spoon from their resting places.

You placed the bowl down next to the thermos and unscrewed the lid silently, pouring out a very hearty looking stew. It smelled amazing, the scent of meat, herbs, and potatoes invading his senses. “Jihoon said you aren’t exactly sick. Just that during this time, you don’t feel well,” you said as you finished pouring the hot stew into the bowl, setting the thermos down and pushing the bowl towards your boyfriend, holding out the spoon.

Soonyoung glanced at the spoon and the bowl before looking at you. “Here’s what’s going to happen.” you said leaning over the counter. Soonyoung’s eyes dipped down to your chest, the curve of your breast visible down your shirt from where he stood. “You’re going to take the damn spoon and eat while I talk. Sound good?”

Soonyoung nodded, moving to sit at the kitchen island and grabbing the spoon from your hand. The moment your skin met, electricity and heat spread throughout his body, the urge to pounce on you from across the counter trying to take the reins but he managed to push it down and simply started eating.

You watched him take a few bites before speaking.

“I know you’re a weretiger,” you said softly, drawing his attention as he looked up at you, his mouth full of bits of beef and potatoes. “Jihoon told me everything. I will admit I’m a little shocked you didn’t tell me all of this but I can’t imagine it’s an easy subject to bring up so I’ll give you a pass there,” you explained. “That being said, I wish you would have just told me the truth. Did you think I would judge you? Did you think I would leave or break up with you?”

Soonyoung swallowed the food in his mouth before speaking. “I didn’t know what to expect, actually,” he answered truthfully. “I was less scared about you finding out about me being a weretiger and more scared that I—” he hesitated, looking down at his bowl of food. You followed his gaze. “Finish eating,” you told him. “I have more to say anyway.

By the time Soonyoung had finished his bowl of stew and ate another at your insistence, you were sitting on the couch, Soonyoung resting over your legs as he hugged around your waist, his face buried in your stomach, a deep rumbling emanating from his chest as he purred happily. You stroked his hair, massaging his scalp with your finger tips.

“This is nice,” you said softly as you combed your fingers through his hair. “Mhm,” Soonyoung hummed. Silence fell over the two of you for a few minutes before you couldn’t stop yourself from asking a question that was at the forefront of your mind.

“Soonie,” you said softly, gently tugging at his hair. “Hmm?” he asked, not lifting his head or opening his eyes. “Can I ask you what you meant earlier about being scared?” You felt him stiffen under your touch before he finally lifted his head, looking up at you. “Wh-what about it?” he asked.

You brushed his hair back from his forehead, cupping his cheek at the same time. “What are you scared of, babe?” Soonyoung took a deep breath before pulling himself up to sit. “I’m scared of frightening you,” he finally answered, glancing at your hand before reaching over to take it in his.

“Of frightening me? How would you frighten me?” you asked, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. Soonyoung looked down at your joined hands before speaking. “You know how when we’re intimate?” he asked softly, not looking up as you nodded. “Yes,” you replied, a small smile on your lips. “Well, when the week of the full moon approaches, I start to… change,” he continued.

“My body starts to change.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as your smile spread. “Is this about your heat?” you asked nonchalantly. Soonyoung’s eyes widened as his gaze snapped up to meet yours. “Y-you know about that?” he asked incredulously. You nodded, your smile only growing. “You think I’m going to learn that my boyfriend is a weretiger and not look up what all of that entails? I know everything, baby. Your heat, your transformation cycle, all of it. I also know your curse is familial and not transferred by bites or scratches. Jihoon told me that part though,” you said, reaching up to brush his hair back again.

“And I already know what happens to your cock, so there’s no need to explain that to me.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widened comically. “I learned that on my own by reading. Jihoon did not inform me of that part,” you added, reaching up to bop the end of his nose with the tip of your finger. “I know all about the sexual changes, the heat cycle, the penile spines, copulation, all of it. I know everything.”

Soonyoung wasn’t sure whether he should be impressed, alarmed, or relieved. He felt a mixture of all three as he sat there on his couch with you. “Do you also know about the insatiable urge I have to be buried inside you whenever you’re around?” he asked, noticing how your eyes widened slightly. “No,” you answered softly before a smirk started to form.

“But now I do.”

Soonyoung could feel heat creeping up his neck towards his face at the same time heat settled in the pit of his stomach. A new smell invaded his nostrils. The smell of arousal but it wasn’t his own. He glanced down quickly before looking back up. “Can you smell me?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, the smirk still present on your face. He nodded slowly, holding your gaze.

You leaned back against the arm of the couch, spreading your legs slightly. Soonyoung’s eyes fluttered shut as the scent hit him stronger. He could feel his cock painfully hard in his pants. “Baby,” Soonyoung said softly as a shiver ran up his spine, that insatiable need to bury his cock inside your warm cunt starting to take over. “If you don’t stop me,” he continued, opening his eyes to meet your gaze.

“I won’t be able to stop myself. I’ll…” he trailed off as your hands moved, sliding down your body. “I don’t know what I’ll do,” he said, swallowing thickly as his eyes followed your hands. “Maybe that’s what I want,” you said softly. “Maybe I want you to pounce on me.”

Soonyoung turned his head, averting his gaze as he tried to steady his erratic breathing. He felt the couch move and then your hand under his chin, turning his head to face you. “Don’t look away from me,” you said in a low voice. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Soonyoung whispered, reaching up to cup your cheek. “I promise you won’t,” you replied, leaning into his touch.

“I want you to let it take control. You need this,” you continued, taking one of his hands and guiding it between your thighs, pressing his fingers against your cloth covered crotch. “Pin me down, Soonie. Fuck me like I know you want to.”

Soonyoung let out a sound between a moan and a growl as he closed the distance, the hand on your cheek sliding to the back of your neck to pull you into a bruising kiss, his tongue immediately sliding into your mouth. You moaned as he pushed you back onto the couch, pinning you down with his weight alone.

You could feel his erection in his pants press against you, rutting slightly. “I don’t think I can wait,” he murmured against your lips, hands moving to pull at your shorts. “Then don’t,” you urged as he pulled back, fingers working to undo the tie of your shorts. He made quick work of them, pulling them and your panties off. “Shirt off,” he grumbled as he pulled his own off.

You watched him instead as he undid his pants. He glanced up at you. “What’re you doing?” he asked, his hands stilling. “I’m watching you,” you replied. “He glanced down at your shirt. “Shirt. Off,” he repeated. “What?” you asked, feigning ignorance. “You heard me,” Soonyoung growled as he stared you down. “Take. It. Off. Now.”

You let out a giggle before complying, pulling your shirt off as he resumed undoing his pants and pushing them down, kicking them off before leaning over you, lips kissing a path up your chest to your neck. “Turn over,” he whispered in your ear.

You did as he asked, rolling over onto your stomach as he leaned over your back. You felt him rub his cheek against your shoulder. “What are you doing?” you asked with a chuckle. “Marking you,” he replied simply. “Don’t worry about it,” he added as he grabbed one of the pillows and guided you to lift your hips, placing the pillow under you.

With your hips raised, he guided the head of his cock to your slit, gathering your arousal on the tip before starting to push into you with a guttural moan. You gasped as he stretched you, the spines on his cock creating a rough but not entirely unpleasant texture as he bottomed out.

“Oh shit,” you gasped as he pulled back, the spikes raking your walls slightly. He thrusted into you harshly and you cried out. Soonyoung leaned over your back, covering your mouth with his hand. “The neighbors will complain, kitten,” he whispered in your ear. “You have to be quiet.”

He gave you another harsh thrust, slamming into you roughly as he set a brutal and unrelenting pace. “Is it too much?” he asked breathlessly. You shook your head, biting into your bottom lip to keep from screaming out in pleasure. You couldn’t hold back when you felt his teeth sink into your shoulder. “Fuck, sorry baby,” he panted as he pounded into you.

“S’okay,” you gasped, walls spasming around him as he send you hurtling towards your orgasm which hit you, the strength making your legs shake as he continued to fuck you through it. “Are you okay?” he groaned as your cunt continued to flutter around his cock. You nodded in response. “Y-yes,” you gasped. “I’m – ah! – M’fine — oh god, Soonyoung!”

A second orgasm washed over you and still he kept thrusting, not showing any signs of slowing down. You knew by the end of it you were going to be a bruised, panting, sticky mess but you couldn’t be bothered to care now that he wasn’t holding back and showing you a new side to him you’d never experienced. As he sent you toppling over the edge of your third orgasm, he finally came without warning as he sank his teeth into your shoulder again as his load exploded inside you, painting your walls in his sticky white essence.

“Fuck!” he growled as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “Sorry,” he murmured, pressing wet kissing against your skin. “Didn’t mean to yell in your ear.” You merely chuckled as you shook your head. “It’s fine, babe,” you replied. “Was I too rough?” he asked suddenly and again you answered with a shake of your head. “No,” you answered. “That was great. In fact,” you said as you lifted your head.

“I’m coming over more often to help with your heat if it means you’ll fuck me like that.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

329 notes · View notes

stevieschrodinger · 7 months ago

Text

Part One Two four

A small note: if you would like to be added to the tagging list please ask in a reply to the post, I won't check elsewhere.

Eddie’s sitting on the couch. He’s staring into space, a couch cushion clutched tight to his chest.

Steve creeps in after Robin, hears her say, “Eddie?” softly, presumably so she doesn’t startle him.

He’s sitting in the dark, and they both just leave it that way. Probably an unspoken understanding that they don’t want to unsettle Eddie.

They sit down either side of him, Robin rubbing at his back. Steve keeps his hands to himself, not sure what will be welcome, and even less sure what the fuck he should say. Robin’s just better at this sort of stuff than Steve, maybe because she’s a girl or whatever, but she definitely has the emotional intelligence half of the brain.

Steve doesn’t know if there’s anything he even can say in a situation like this.

Eddie’s eyes are red and his face is wet, and he doesn’t move or look at either of them.

Eventually, Robin speaks gently, “Eddie, we can’t stay here.”

Steve figures whoever did live here probably cleared out when everything went to shit. He’s kind of glad; has no fucking idea how he’d explain away Eddie Munson, possible cult leader and serial killer, breaking into their house.

Steve doesn’t think Eddie’s going to say anything, but he does, after a minute, he nods, and says in a croaky voice, “I want to see Wayne.”

“Yeah, of course,” Robin agrees quickly, “we can do that, right Steve?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies, trying to sound sure and confident with that, when Eddie flinches. Visibly flinches. Turning away, shuffling closer to Robin’s end of the couch. And, okay.

Robin looks at him over Eddie’s head. Steve shrugs. Robin shrugs back. No idea.

Steve carefully, making no quick movements, moves his hand in front of his mouth, mimes using the walkie. Robin nods.

Steve jogs out to the car, walkie’s everyone real quick so they can stop looking. The others have already woken Wayne up, discovered that Eddie wasn’t there, and then gone looking for Eddie, so they’re going to head back there and wait for Steve and Robin to bring Eddie over. Explain to Wayne that Eddie’s safe so they don’t leave him worrying in the meantime.

Steve creeps back in, hoping Robs has made some progress getting Eddie moving. She hasn’t, and Steve peeks around the corner, listening. Robin is still rubbing at Eddie’s back, but he’s talking, “didn’t make any sense to come here. It’s all wrong. It all looks wrong it’s...not how we had it. Our stuffs not here,” Eddie sniffs, his voice breaking, “I thought I’d find them here.”

And then Eddie is sobbing, face buried into the cushion, sobbing so hard his whole body is hitching. He’s making noises that tear at Steve, it’s one of the worst things Steve has ever seen, such an outpouring of grief. Eddie’s so loud with it, almost wailing, barely able to breathe his chest is so wracked with it.

Steve feels absolutely useless, but Robin’s looking for him over the back of the couch, and as soon as he sees her his feet carry him over. Robin’s crying too. Steve’s pretty sure his own eyes are wet. It’s just so awful to watch. So painful, Eddie’s grief.

Steve realizes now, why Robin was so horrified. The truth of it finally sinking in now he sees the evidence of it. Eddie loved them, loved them so much that loosing them is breaking him.

Steve sits back on the couch, Eddie looking up for a second when he feels the couch dip, and suddenly he’s thrown himself at Steve, still shaking with those heaving sobs as Steve reflexively wraps his arms around him. It hurts like fuck on Steve’s broken ribs, but Steve bites it back, like fuck is reminding Eddie of that right now.

“I shouldn't have come here,” Eddie chokes out, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Eddie’s making Steve’s neck wet, and his great heaving sobs make Steve arms hitch along with them. Over the fluff of Eddie’s hair, Steve sees it as Rob starts crying fully, wiping at her nose with her sleeve, her face crumpling with it.

Steve swallows thickly, trying to hold it together but knowing he’s loosing it, and he rubs at Eddie's back, telling him, "it's okay, it'll be okay," even though Steve has no idea if it is or even if it ever will be.

It feels like a small eternity before Eddie sits up and finally moves. He doesn’t look at Steve, has his eyes squeezed shut as he scrubs at his face, and when Steve reaches for him, he flinches so hard he almost falls off the couch.

Rob is there for him then, telling him, “easy, easy,” and getting Eddie up and walking him to the car, Eddie half leaning on her.

Eddie’s opening the car door before Steve even fully stops, high tailing it away like his ass is on fire. Wayne is there in the doorway of the motel room.

Easy enough to find, it’s the only motel in Hawkins, and Jon’s car is parked outside the right room.

Wayne opens the door as Steve kills the engine, and Steve watches in the dim light as Eddie practically throws himself at Wayne. He’s sobbing again, Steve can hear it.

Steve’s only half out the car, but Nancy’s there, shaking her head, “we should leave them to it.”

They’re not going to go back to sleep, but they go through the motions anyway. Steve has a shower, really feels like he needs it. He takes a few minutes extra in there, scrubbing at his face and washing his hair, being very careful of his stitches. He gets changed into sleep pants after, and a loose tee shirt, lying in bed. Even if he just lies here, at least it’s rest of some kind. The sun will be up in an hour away, and the kids had said something about helping out at the sports hall, making sandwiches and putting together bundles of emergency supplies and stuff like that.

Steve said he’d drive them.

“Come on Dingus, I can hear you thinking about it.”

“He wouldn’t even look at me, and he flinched Rob, did you see that? And then…” it just doesn’t make any sense.

“Yeah, I did but...out of all of us, you’re the one he hurt the worst. Like, way the worst. He nearly killed you, Steve. Like, literally, if Eddie had taken another ten seconds to wake up, you would have been lights out. Maybe he remembers.”

That does make sense, Steve hums in agreement, that’s got to be hard for him, “yeah.”

“Maybe it’s hard for him to see you because...well. That’s got to be a shitty memory. Plus, trauma does funny things, what if he remembers you fighting back, you know?”

And that’s true, Steve did land one good hit on Eddie with his bat, more reflexive than anything. Before Eddie had taken the thing right out of Steve’s hands and snapped it like it was nothing, that is.

So yeah, maybe, Steve figures, “he was saying sorry.”

Robin hums again.

Steve’s ribs are healed up, his stitches long gone, all his bruises and scrapes are gone. The town is, kind of, back on it’s feet. Sure, there’s probably an abnormally high number of for sale signs in Hawkins, but everyone who was going to come back has done. Enough that Steve’s got part time shifts at the video store, at least. Mostly to keep up appearances; now that it’s all over, Owen’s got them all a pay out. Essentially for damages and trauma or whatever, but also with a very clear ‘keep your mouths shut’ attached to it.

For that first month, Eddie pretty much only speaks to Dustin. He stays with Wayne, and once every couple of days he lets Dustin know that he’s okay. The message Dustin brings back is the same every time, “he’s okay, he just needs some time.”

@autumncrocusandladybug @duckyreads @neonfruitbowl @slv-333 @starlight-archer @skys-archive @justdreamersdream @moomkin77 @prazinos @dragonmama76 @lingeringmirth @darkwitchoferie @weirdandabsurd42 @zoeweee @thennic @xiaq @tinyplanet95 @steddieyourself @chrystal-lovee @futuristicunknown86 @grtwdsmwhr @mugloversonly @wonderland-girl143-blog

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #pre steddie #the party #my writing #steddie dreamed life

600 notes · View notes

thewritetofreespeech · 6 months ago

Note

hello! i know there's a lot of jealous astarion x tav stuff out there, but could you do a jealous tav x astarion scenario please? maybe also make it spicy??

Astarion x jealous!reader

There were very few moments for all of you to relax and take a breath these days. With the quakes getting stronger, the cult getting closer, and just Gods knew what else around the corner, it was difficult to find some time to recharge. But, you all always seemed to eventually find the time.

Down at one of the taverns, you and the group decided to break loose and have some drinks for the night. Gale and Halsin didn’t want to come. Halsin still abstain from alcohol, along with his vague comments on ‘past mishaps and making a fool of himself’ (which honestly just made it all the more intriguing), and Gale just wanting to turn in early for the night. With everything going on with Mystra recently, more and more he had been pulling back to think by himself, but assured you he would be himself again soon enough.

Karlach usually tagged along, but just wasn’t feeling crowds at the moment. It would be more strange for Laz’el to come. And Wyll had come for the start of the evening but left after one drink as he was a responsible young man.

All that was left was you, Shadowheart, and Astarion.

“This wine tastes like cat piss.”

“You’ve tasted cat piss?” You clip back. Wittier than usual now that you had a few drinks.

Astarion gave you a dull, “ha ha,” before he got up and headed for the bar to get a different vintner offering from the bar keep. “Maybe I’ll splurge a little a spend a whole 3 gold to get something a little better than the swill the rest of you are used to.”

“How people ever found him charming enough to be lured to their death will always be a mystery to me?” Shadowheart remarked before taking a sip of mead from her cup.

You chuckle at her joke and watch as Astarion made his way to the bar. Weaving in between the crowd like he was made more of mist & air, rather than flesh and blood.

Alone, you and Shadowheart chat quietly at your table before she finished her drink, dabbed her lips, and announced, “I’m going head back and turn in with the others. I trust that you and Astarion will make it back alright on your own?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t we?”

“Well…I wouldn’t judge if the two of you wanted to spend sometime alone. We’re usually in such close quarters together that I’m sure it’s hard to be alone with someone special.” You blush at Shadowhearts comment. Not nearly as blunt as Laz’el but also not at all subtle. “Although, perhaps he has other plans for the evening?”

You follow her eyes over to the bar. Finding Astarion instantly, but also the pretty human girl hanging on his every word; and nearly him. Astarion, for his part, not seeming nearly as put off as someone in a relationship should be by her flirtation.

“I’ll take my leave now. I don’t want to be in the middle of whatever this is turning into. If it turns out for the good, be safe and have fun. If it turns out for the worse, well…try not to get us all arrested by morning.”

She gave a small way and saw herself out of the bar. Leaving you there with your thoughts, warm ale, and a stewing feeling of dread in your gut. You try to calm yourself. But you weren’t exactly the best at tamping down your impulsive thoughts. They had gotten you this far, hadn’t they? Perhaps they could take you a little further as you went up to the bar. “Shadowheart went home.”

Astarion and his new playmate both turn to you in surprise. The former looking genuinely surprised, while the woman looked more annoyed than surprised by your interruption. “Oh. Was she feeling alright? It’s rather early.”

“Yes! The night is still young.” The woman’s hand landed on his arm, and you glare daggers at the spot it landed. Wishing for real daggers. “But, if your friend isn’t feeling well, maybe you should go and check on her.”

She was trying to muscle you out. Eliminate the competition. As far as she knew Astarion wasn’t attached, or maybe she didn’t care, so your presence is an obstacle to her goal of claiming the handsome stranger. You had to admire her boldness. You don’t think you could ever be so confident to just ‘lay claim’ to a man you had only just met and make your stance known. If it had been anyone else she claimed you would have been impressed and supportive. Women helping women. Problem was this was your man and she was competition that needed to be eliminated.

“I think I’m going home too.” You pressed further.

“But I just ordered my wine.” Astarion quipped. Seeming not to get your hint at all. But the woman did.

“Yes. We’ve just freshened our drinks.” The vampire turned his gaze to the woman with a sharp arch of his brow. Clearly communicating ‘who is this ‘we’ you speak of’ with no words at all. “Why don’t you run after your friend and he’ll see you later. Perhaps tomorrow morning?”

“Oh….”

“I’m out of here.” You didn’t bother listening to whatever excuse, silken words, or outright lies Astarion was going to tell this hell cat to get out of the hole he just dug himself, but you weren’t interested in watching him dig.

Slamming your empty mug on the counter, you turn and head for the door. Everyone parting ways for you with the mood you were in. The cold air to your face was sobering, literally, and you shrug your shoulders in as you head down the dark streets towards the inn for the night. If you walked fast enough maybe you could actually catch Shadowheart on the way.

“[Y/N]! Wait!”

You turn to look over your shoulder as Astarion called your name. Coming out of the tavern with a skid and dashing over to meet the space between you. “Where are you going? Are you really going to leave?”

“Would you rather I sit there and watch that woman paw all over you?” You jab back. But Astarion didn’t seem wounded.

“Oh that. Yes. Rather forward for a lady wasn’t she?”

“So why didn’t you stop her??”

“I don’t know.” He replied with a shrug. “Old habits.”

You huff and pull your arms in tighter against the cold. Maybe you had been wrong in assuming that Astarion thought of ‘loyalty’ the same way you did. You trusted him with your life, but maybe you couldn’t trust him in a bar. You didn’t genuinely think that he would go off with her, but even the hint of implication made your blood boil. “I get they might be ‘old habits’ but if you could not flirt with people, I would appreciate it.”

A grin slithered up on Astarion’s face. “Are you…jealous, my love?”

“No!” You snap back quickly. But his grin just gets bigger.

“Hmm…I guess it’s understandable. This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve started a cat fight in a bar, you know? I just never thought you of all people would be swayed by such petty emotions.”

“I’m going home.”

You turn your back on him again, which was the worst thing to do on a vampire, and you felt him snatch you before you were suddenly in a dark alley all alone together. “I get jealous too.” He told you. Almost like a whispered confession. Able to be quiet now that you were away from the crowd, and the streets, and the noise. “I get jealous seeing you with the others. The attention you give them. It should be for me.”

“They’re just friends.” You whisper back to Astarion. Feeling as if any louder and you’d break this spell between you in the moment. You didn’t know what kind of spell it was, but you were transfixed in it.

“I get jealous of all the strangers you want to help. Literally anyone who needs help, you help them. That big heart. Where will I be, if you keep opening it up to others?”

You gasp when you felt his hand drift over your ‘heart’. “I’ll always have space for you Astarion. You shouldn’t be worried about that.”

“I get jealous of your bedroll.” His words caught you off guard. Almost as much as his teeth at your ear. “Curled up with you. Holding your body all night. Keeping you warm. It should be me.”

“You’ve never mentioned it.”

You can’t feel your breath come out in a little pant as you spoke. Enamored by Astarion and his weight against you and the wall. “We should…find some place private.”

“Here is private.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear his grin and it made your knees quiver. “Someone could see us.”

“No one will see us.” He assured you. “I’ve used this alley before.”

It was probably not the best time to bring up his past conquests when you had just had a conversation about jealousy. Or perhaps it was. Instead of feeling angry like earlier, you suddenly felt the incredible urge to erase every memory Astarion had of this alley, this place, those people, and fill him with only thoughts of you. That there were no other conquests until he claimed you.

Jealousy seemed quite the aphrodisiac. It might not have been the ‘privacy’ Shadowheart had mentioned when she made her comment. But it was fun. And no one got arrested.

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #tav #baldur's gate #baldurs gate imagine #baldurs gate scenarios #bg3 imagine #bg3 scenarios #gender neutral reader

425 notes · View notes

gallierhouse · 4 months ago

Note

“is armand a coward?” “is he insane?” “is he smart or stupid?” “is he honest?” IS HE BORING THO? the only question is he boring?????

I know you’re being silly, but I have actually written about this before. Multiple times, actually. But my organizational system is so bad I have no idea where any of those posts are. It’ll be in the tag somewhere if you want to look. I’ll sum it up here, though.

Armand both is and isn’t boring. In a vacuum, he’s an interesting person. He’s 500 years old and he’s got no hobbies to speak of besides gardening and torture. He’s got a penchant for v-necks. He led a cult and burnt people alive and then he led another cult and had them murder people on stage every night for a hundred years. He used to wander museums at night. He has a large collection of sunglasses. He’s been following a painting of him paid for with his body for 500 years but he never took it home or destroyed it. He’s surprisingly adept at real estate for someone who lived an ascetic lifestyle for 200 years. He’s got neat handwriting. He doesn’t have a real accent. He’s numbered his memories chronologically. So all that’s interesting. Even if he were actually a soft, beige pillow, he’d still be interesting by virtue of having lived five centuries. But Louis finds him boring because Armand’s always trying to please him. Armand has an idea of what Louis wants (“not Lestat”), so everything he does is designed to not be Lestat, and to fulfill the submissive role in their D/S relationship. By being who he thinks Louis wants him to be, he makes himself boring. He’s not actually boring, but Louis only ever gets to see the boring version of him, because it’s all he’ll ever show Louis. He’s always modulating his behavior to meet the expectations of the people he wants approval from, which makes him boring to that person. It’s boring if someone only ever does what you want and what you say. “You can pick what we have for dinner, I don’t mind” every night for 77 years. It’s boring!

Armand’s not boring. He’s just backed himself into a corner that makes everyone he wants approval or attention from see him as boring. It’s a silly problem to have. Louis would probably be more attracted to him if he showed the side of himself he shows to Lestat. But Armand’s so devoted to pretending to be a civilized, well-adjusted person who isn’t violent and isn’t unstable and isn’t selfish and isn’t anything like Lestat, and isn’t anything besides stable and safe and patient and kind and loving, that he’s filed off his own edge. You can see him compartmentalize it. He hunts alone. He leaves the penthouse. That’s something he does for himself. The only time he allows himself to be whoever he really is without the expectation of someone else, and it’s out of sight for both the viewer and Louis. He declaws himself for the sake of others, and he’s naturally hurt when people say things like, “Where are your claws? Why don’t you have claws? You’re boring!” It’s a mean thing to say to someone who spends all their time and energy attempting to be interesting to you, even if their method is self-defeating and stupid. I think Armand might think of himself as boring, though. But his metric for what’s normal and abnormal is so far removed from any conceivable standard of normalcy it’s not really a valid opinion to hold. He’s silly, okay?

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #armand

310 notes · View notes

fairyysoup · 28 days ago

Text

the devil i know

chapter eight: back in hell at least it's comfortable

(repost)

fic tag | fic playlist | fic masterlist

pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: Rabbit Season Duck Season ft. your demon boyfriend who doesn't want you to google him.

cw: explicit, smut, monsterfucking (no monstery stuff comes up but he is still a demon), blowjob, ball play, facial, making a deal with a demon (eddie's version), lover's spat but in the most hilarious way don't worry, sacrificial computer killed by fire, death mention, trauma, bullying mention, inspired by american and european folklore, sacrilegious themes, horror, witch!reader, reader is 21+ in modern day, eddie is immortal, sex pact, marking, possessive behavior, animal death, trauma, reader is ostracized by her very religious hometown, dark comedy, dead dove: do not eat

please check masterlist and individual parts for content warnings before reading. this fic contains dark themes. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

So. You’ve been at war with Eddie for two days now.

It started as a joke. You got curious– you didn’t really mean anything by it. Maybe you knew you were poking a hornet's nest, but you don’t recall him giving you any specific instructions not to. And what were the odds that this demon, in his wisdom, gave you his real, full name in a moment of crisis? What were the odds that you would actually find something about him?

You googled the name Eddie Munson.

At first, you did it on your phone, in bed, and your google search was limited to your IP address location. You got a ping for an Eddie Munson from one town over, who apparently bombed a car or something a few years back. The articles were bleak and didn’t include a lot of information. But otherwise, nothing from around Eastwick.

Then you widened your search parameters. Demons are supernatural, paranormal beings, right? Eddie said he used to be human, so you figured you should treat it like trying to find a ghost. And you didn’t know how old Eddie was– he could have lived at any point, from the last 60 years to the last 6,000 years. Although, for some reason you had a hard time picturing him living in 4,000 BCE.

You searched Eddie Munson folklore.

What are you doing?

You jumped at the sound of Eddie’s voice in your ear, locking your phone and throwing it across the bed. “Uhhh, nothing?”

Riiiight.

“What’re you– did I call you again?”

Yeah. You do it a lot, you know.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to.”

Mm. Go to sleep, sweetheart.

And you heard nothing about it. Until the next morning, when you unlocked your phone again and saw Eddie Munson folklore had brought up a few strange results.

Eddie Munson Serial Killer

Eddie Munson Satanic Panic

Eddie Munson Cult of Hawkins

You stared at the different search results with your morning coffee poised in the air, completely halted in place. You weighed your options, wondering what on earth you were going to find, should you click on any of them.

Was it really him? Was this even worth the effort and the possible janky links to a Subreddit you didn’t need to be scouring through?

You clicked on Eddie Munson Serial Killer, just to see what would come up, if there was a Wikipedia article with the guy’s face that you could honestly identify as Not Your Eddie.

And your phone died.

You scowled, and set down your coffee so that you could try turning it on again, but all you got was a dim low battery notification. Down by your knees, Dante whined and bumped his nose against your leg to get you to pay attention to him.

“Sorry, baby,” you cooed, shoving your phone onto a charger and forgetting about it. You stooped to scratch Dante behind the ears, and kissed him on his little hellhound head. “Let’s get you some food, yeah?”

You didn’t try again until much later, when you sat down with your computer in your living room. Now it was a little bit more serious, less of a joke. Even if this ‘Eddie Munson Serial Killer’ wasn’t your Eddie Munson, you’d never heard of the guy before. And you genuinely thought you were pretty checked out on various serial killers throughout history, with your penchant for true crime podcasts.

You picked at your nails for a moment, your hands hovering over the keyboard as you weighed your options. Then, you typed the words quickly into the search bar, and hit enter.

And your fucking computer glitched, blue screened, and died.

You stared at the black screen in front of you with a feeling of exasperation that bordered on irritation. You looked up, and made eye contact with Dante, laying on your floor in a patch of sunlight. The Rottweiler gazed back at you with eyes that glowed a little bit red in the sunlight, almost knowingly.

“Eddie, what the fuck is this about?” you asked the empty air.

No answer.

“Eddie?”

Radio silence. Dante yawned and rolled onto his side. The clock in the kitchen ticked on ominously. You waited for something– Eddie’s voice in your ear, or a footstep behind you, alerting you of his presence. Nothing came.

You stared into thin air, thinking over your options. You figured you could just be looking too deeply into things. You reached forward, and tried to turn your computer back on.

The screen popped once, like there was a power surge, and then the keyboard started smoking.

“Eddie!” you screeched, flinging the computer away from your lap. Flames burst from it just as it hit the floor. Dante leapt up and barked excitedly at it. “What kind of Looney Tunes bullshit–”

The burning computer’s screen blinked on, and from behind the crackling flames, a video started playing. Off-key, jazzy fanfare blasted from the burning speakers, sounding a bit screechy and tinny, and then Porky Pig appeared from within a red circle.

“That’s all, folks!”

“Oh, I see.” You chuckled, slowly nodding in indignation. “This is war, you little shit.”

So, that brings you here. The Eastwick Public Library is a tiny, one story unit in the town plaza’s main strip mall. Situated at the end of the building, it boasts a row of about fifteen bookshelves, half of which house the ‘religion’ genre, and maybe six computers. Seven, if you count the one behind the librarian’s desk.

You keep your head down as you log into one of the public access computers. It’s been ages since you set foot in the library, and you highly doubt any of your beloved neighbors would like to see you in here, looking up obscure serial killers. You can almost imagine their lack of surprise.

You type in your keyword search for a third time, and wait for the computer to spontaneously combust. It doesn’t. Instead, a few images pop up, followed by a Wikipedia article, followed by a few newspaper links.

It’s him. It’s your Eddie.

“Edward ‘Eddie’ Munson was an alleged American serial killer. He is the only known suspect of the Cunningham-Benson-Mckinney murders of Hawkins, Indiana in the Spring of 1986, and was presumed dead after the fatal 1986 Indiana Earthquake.”

The first image that shows up is obviously a yearbook photo– the typical blue background, a close up headshot of the grin that you know and love. The second photo is in black and white, a missing persons poster. And the third photo is yet another yearbook photo, but this time it’s a group shot. A bunch of teenage boys all lined up against a brick wall, under a banner that says Hellfire Club.

“No way,” you mutter incredulously, clicking on the photo and zooming in to find Eddie in the corner, sticking out his tongue and using his fingers to create a pair of devil horns over his head.

The link for the photo is for a yearbook pdf from Hawkins. The title of it reads HAWKINS HIGH DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS HELLFIRE CLUB, 1985-86.

You press your lips together, feeling yourself gearing up to grin. Quietly, and with the most affectionate tone of voice you have ever used in your life, you croon, “You were in a D&D club?”

One by one, each computer along the row you sit at pops and fizzles with sparks before shorting out. You pull your hands away, giggling and watching the sparks come down the line until they reach your computer, and then it goes dead.

And so does the rest of the power in the building.

You let out a blast of laughter, clapping your hands over your mouth while a group of teenage girls in the back corner scream bloody murder. The library has gone dark, and the cranky librarian at the front desk is simultaneously shushing the screaming girls and herding them out the door. You’re still giggling when you get up, and you have to hide the smile on your face when you duck past the librarian on your way out.

“Don’t.” Eddie materializes in your entryway when you get back home. Melting out of the woodwork, a shadow that forms into his pouting visage. He shakes his head at the floor, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t say anything, I’ll–”

“What?” you ask him, tilting your head. You bite your lip to stop yourself from giggling again; it had been so hard to stop your fit on the way home. He looks sheepishly away from you, a bright pink blush coloring his cheeks. “You’ll what, Eddie?”

He tries to look severe, but he can’t hide the smile beginning to wobble its way onto his lips. “I’ll Looney your Tunes so fucking hard–”

“You can’t Looney my Tunes motherfucker, I’ll Looney your Tunes.” You point an accusatory finger at him. “You owe me a goddamn computer!”

You’re not actually that mad about the computer, it was a piece of shit anyways. But Eddie surprises you by producing a new one from behind his back, and holds it out to you.

You give a placated hum as you take it from him. “So. That was you, huh?”

“No, it’s not– not technically–”

“Did you think I was gonna… gonna judge you, or something?”

Eddie doesn’t say anything in response, his eyes flicking from yours, to the computer in your hands, and back.

“You’re a demon. I made a deal with you, I sold my soul.” You screw up your face. “You’ve offered to kill someone for me like… what, three times now?”

Eddie sucks on his teeth and looks away.

“I think I’m past the point of judgment, honey.”

“It’s not that simple.” His brow furrows, and he chews on his bottom lip, stripping chapped skin from it with his teeth. “Believe me, I wouldn’t– I wouldn’t care, except that shit… the shit you read, that’s not the truth. I swear.”

“Then what is the truth?” You ask him mildly. “Were you a serial killer?”

“No.”

“But you were in a D&D club.”

He heaves a sigh, rocking back on his heels and tilting his head up towards the ceiling. You stare at him for a moment, watching him squirm a little bit like he’s looking for a way out of the conversation. Then, he grumbles, “Yeah…”

“You are so fucking cute.” Eddie’s cheeks turn bright red, and he spins away like he’s going to walk back through your bedroom door and disappear. You leap forward and grab his arm, giggling, “Nonono, don’t go. Come back here. So you’re a nerd, it’s okay. I’m a nerd. We’re nerds of a feather.”

“Sure.” Eddie snorts loudly, pulling you into a hug. His smoke surrounds you, as comforting and warm as his embrace. He buries his face in your hair, nuzzling against the side of your head. “M’gonna give you the truth, okay? The whole truth. And you have to promise not to run away.”

“Okay, Eddie.” You sigh and close your eyes as he lifts his hand and cups the side of your face. You lean into his touch. “I’m not running. I promise.”

HAWKINS, 1984

There are a few things Eddie Munson hates in this world. He has an abundance of annoyances, yes, but only a few things that he despises more than anything else. One of them is bullies- no matter where they come from. School, law enforcement, employers, whatever. It’s something he can’t deal with, and oftentimes out of his own propensity for self preservation, he spends his time avoiding them. He’s never been a fighter. He’s never been tough enough to defend himself, but running away is usually just as effective.

The second thing that he hates is loneliness. He likes to tell himself that, had he known that living in Hawkins would make him lonelier than anything, he’d have chosen to go live in Indianapolis with his Great Aunt Shirley instead of Uncle Wayne. But that’s not true at all– he loves Wayne, whenever he crosses paths with him.

But he’s being held back. Senior year of high school, and he’s not fucking graduating, and he doesn’t know if he can stand another year of bullshit from the assholes in town who can’t fucking stand him.

“You’re the only student we have who isn’t attending graduation this year,” Principal Higgins had told him, with his nose endearingly turned up in disdain. “You should feel lucky that we even offered to allow you to repeat the grade, considering your… track record.”

And so, thanks to his own irresponsibility and bad habits, he’ll be subjected to more loneliness. More bullying. More of the things he hates.

Unless.

Eddie’s done stupider things. His copper item is a… fucking moscow mule cup. Old and tarnished, but properly made of copper. He’ll get a new one for Wayne at some point, but he hasn’t seen his Uncle touch it in all the years that he’s lived with him. Eddie dirties his hands as he buries it in the wet earth, where the creek that runs through the woods behind Forest Hills trailer park splits in two. Eventually they converge again, somewhere down by Lover’s Lake, but here they create a fork.

He didn’t bother casting a circle. He doesn’t even know how the fuck that’s supposed to work.

His shoes are wet. He stands in ankle deep water, and he splashes around uncomfortably. “Hey, uh. I don’t know what I’m doing, but um. I’m– I’m here to make a deal. I guess.”

“Who’s the genius who uses a river as a crossroads?” says a woman’s voice, startling Eddie out of his wits.

Eddie jumps and loses his balance turning around in place, toppling down in the water. He looks around, hoping that he isn’t hearing things at the ripe old age of 18.

“Over here,” the voice says again, and Eddie catches a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye. When he follows it, he finds a lady waving at him, crouched down beside a tree on the outer bank of the creek. Her dark hair hangs in her face, but she has a vaguely golden aura about her that makes her stand out in the night.

When she gets a good look at him, her sarcastic smile turns into a laugh. “Well, what do you know? It’s Jim Morrison.”

Eddie frowns. “I’m not Jim Morrison.”

“Obviously,” she says blandly. “Could’a fooled me, though.” She pauses, and then looks at him curiously. “What are you doing down there?”

Eddie glances down, at where he sits up to his waist in the water. He throws his hands up in defeat. “My delicates.”

She laughs and raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Yes.” He struggles up, dripping water all the way. “Y’know this is a sacred river? It was the birthplace of a love goddess or something.” He looks over at her again, and motions generally at her. “I can see the myth was true.”

The lady giggles, standing up from her crouched position. She wears a long green skirt that brushes the ground when she walks, and a crocheted shawl over some kind of halter top-looking doohickey. He tilts his head, being reminded of an old record that migrated to the back of his collection. Woodstock, ‘69. Grace Slick of Jefferson Airplane.

Grace Slick– or, at least, the demon who looks an awful lot like her, considering Grace Slick is definitely still alive– grins wickedly. “Oh, a charmer. Are you flirting with me?”

Eddie cracks a smile. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

The lady hums, standing directly across the water from him. “You wanted to make a deal. I’m here to make it with you, so if you don’t mind. What is it that you want?”

“How about being the greatest guitarist who ever lived?” Eddie gestures vaguely around at his general being. Ankle deep in water, soggy and probably looking very pathetic. “I figure maybe it’ll make things easier in the meantime. What does school matter to a rockstar, y’know? Maybe it’ll help me get the fuck out of town, for starters.”

The lady tilts her head. “And you’re not Jim Morrison, huh?”

“Was Jim Morrison a guitarist?” He rocks on his feet, nearly losing his balance again as he splashes around a bit. He plods awkwardly across the water, shoes squelching and pocket chains jingling. “What do I have to do, huh? Beg on my hands and knees? I’m already out here, soaking wet, in the middle of the night–”

“You’ll be a guitarist,” the lady tells him, her voice a bit sterner now. She regards him closely, her dark eyes narrowed at him. “The greatest who ever was and ever will be. I can see why your petition came to me.”

“My… what?”

“Your request for a demon to make a deal with. It came to me, because I favor musicians and performers.” Shortly, she produces a small, spiraled notepad that has a bunch of messily scrawled words on it. “I’ll give you your greatness. In return, you give me blood each full moon. A few drops on a tissue will do. Burn it in a dish on your window sill.”

“Is that normal?” Eddie asks, “Y’know, considering you’re also getting my soul, and everything.”

“It’s what I ask of you for veneration. Each demon asks for something different. I just find it easier than asking for a sex rite.”

“Excuse me?”

“After you die, you’ll become one of us,” she continues. “A demon of the crossroads. I don’t keep your soul. But I get power for securing it.” She snatches his arm, as he reaches towards her notebook. “Is that a yes?”

Eddie blinks, flushing pink from the cold and the woman’s grip, burning his skin. Her hand is unbearably hot, almost enough for him to jerk away. “Yes.”

The woman smiles with unnervingly sharp, pointed teeth. “Good.”

It takes a second for the pain to register; when it does, the notebook in the demon’s hand is already splashed with Eddie’s blood. He gives a pained whimper as he recognizes the pain of the wound on his arm, and begins hyperventilating the longer it grows, reaching up his arm, slicing into his muscle. His body tenses up and starts to shake, her grip on his arm disturbingly strong.

When she lets go, he curses and glances down to find a new mark on his arm. A black inked tattoo of a swarm of bats.

“So… you fought the forces of evil by playing Metallica?”

“Well, it made sense at the time.”

Teeth dug into the plush skin of your bottom lip, you suppress another giggle as you sweep your fingers through Eddie’s hair, pushing his bangs back away from his face and letting them stick up into the air as you release them. He has a tiny scar on his forehead, just shy of his hairline, which you never noticed before now. You want to kiss it.

Instead, you trace it with your fingers. Eddie’s chin rests on your stomach, his eyes dark and wanting as they gaze up at your face. He has the prettiest eyelashes you think you’ve ever seen, and he bats them at you like he means to use them for your demise.

He lays between your legs on the couch. You’d moved there naturally, with his hands coaxing you and yours pulling him like a life raft. It isn’t easy, having the contents of someone’s life– two years’ worth of it– dumped into your head all at once. When he said he was going to give you the truth, he quite literally gave it to you. Directly. Into your brain.

He gave you everything, from the time that he made his deal, all the way up to his death. You saw him forming the Hellfire Club only a few months after the deal was initially made, and watched as it evolved into a gaggle of friends that he cared for and loved. And you saw the way that he protected them until the very end, when he played the greatest rock concert ever given.

“You were so sweet, baby,” you whisper, with a tightness in your throat that tries to constrict the flow of air from getting out.

“Wonder what happened.” You bop him on the shoulder with your palm and watch his lips quirk up into a smirk. “Hey, I mean. You don’t sit through torture seminars in Hell without getting a little bit screwy on your way out.”

“They have seminars there?”

“Are you kidding?” Eddie snorts, his eyes lighting up briefly with a little bit of fire. “There’s a whole circle of Hell that’s just one big long TimeShares seminar. I’ve been to it. Probably the most horrible thing I had to experience before I could go off and start making deals. They use it as training.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“It is fucked up. It’s Hell, and I’m a salesman. Arthur Miller should have written something about that.”

“So… does God exist?”

“Oh, sure. Lots of gods. My favorite one is Hades. Cool guy. He runs Hell– the Underworld. Same thing. Persephone is kind of intimidating, though. Don’t get on her bad side.” Eddie tilts his head at you. “Pretty much any mythological figure you can think of exists on some plane of the Otherworld. Think of… gods and angels as my coworkers, in different departments. Maybe I don’t like all of them, but I work with them.”

“The Otherworld is a department store?”

“Precisely.”

Your fingers fumble with the collar of his shirt and hook around the metal chain he wears around his neck. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

His eyes bore into yours. “Anything you want.”

“How many, um–” Your eyes flutter when he shifts, and your fingers dip beneath the collar of his shirt just enough to feel the burn of his skin there– “how many deals have you made?”

“Including you,” he says, heaving a sigh that you can feel expand in his chest, “three. There was Charlotte, in ‘91, and then Adrian, in ‘99. Neither of them held up their end of the deal.”

“The… the full moon?” You can’t imagine how it could be that much of a sacrifice, being required to sleep with him once a month. You’re so pent up, so eager to do it already that the notion that someone wouldn’t seems absurd to you.

Eddie nods. “You don’t hold up your end of the deal… the contract is up. And then Hell comes to collect.”

You let that information hang in the air between you. You stare at it, the empty space over his head, as you try to process it in the silence that follows. “Quick way to an early grave?”

“Happened to me,” he mutters. “Forgot to prick my finger and rub it on a napkin during all that mess, fighting for my life. If you can believe it.”

There’s an unspoken air of heaviness in the room– the knowledge that he died far too young, protecting his friends with the talent he sold his soul to have. Far too quickly to make selling his soul even worth it in the long run. It weighs on you, pressing down on your lungs at the same time as Eddie’s weight presses in between your hips.

Your own rite looms over you, just a few days away. Something in your gut tells you that Eddie is giving you this– the honest truth– so you know what you’re in for. You promised him you wouldn’t run away.

You sold your soul and promised that you’d meet his demands if he met yours; you never expected that it would get to this point. That you’d be lying here, with him curled between your legs, and you’d have to accept that the attraction you feel towards him isn’t just due to the terms of the deal anymore.

You know him, now. Or, at least, you know him a fair bit better than you did.

You tilt your head, realizing something out of the blue. “You didn’t have to make my deal include the sex.”

“I never claimed to not be a pervert, sweetheart.” He flashes you a sharp grin. “I am your average horny little devil, you know.”

“And you didn’t have to mark me with your name,” you point out, with a note of curiosity in your voice. “Your demon didn’t.”

Eddie chuckles. “Yeah, but that’s ‘cause I’m disgustingly obsessed with you and need you to be all mine, so.”

Your heart flutters at that, singing along to the tune of some stupid love song you haven’t heard in a long time. You hum, holding Eddie’s face in your hands. His eyes flick down to your lips, and then back up to meet your gaze.

“I still think you’re sweet,” you tell him earnestly.

“You think I’m sweet?” He parrots, his hand sliding up the curve of your thigh and over your hip, his fingers curling into the hem of your shirt. He looks incredulous, like he doesn’t really believe you.

“I mean, sweet like a feral dog I have on a leash who’s out for everyone’s blood except mine. Y’know.”

He grins wickedly, a deadly twinkle in his eye as he shifts further down, his head lowering toward where your shirt bunches up around your waist, exposing a sliver of your stomach. You shudder as his hot breath hits your skin. “Is this sweet?”

Eddie presses a lingering kiss onto the soft skin just above your navel. You sigh, your fingers sliding through his hair and gripping at the roots, and he pauses. His breath hitches in his throat at the feeling of your hands in his hair, his eyes flicking up to meet yours as he hovers there, with his lips pressed softly to your stomach.

He puffs out his cheeks and blows a raspberry.

“Eddie!” you squeal, trying to get away from him as he cackles, holding you hostage to his assault. You kick your legs and manage to squirm until you throw the both of you off of the couch, rolling with him onto the floor.

Dante gets up from his spot at the end of the couch and disappears through the wall like an apparition. He tends to disappear off into the aether at random times, only to reappear later, whenever he’s hungry or if you call him. You guess that life as a hellhound is busy work. Or, maybe he’s just sick of you and Eddie being revoltingly touchy-feely in front of him.

“I take it back! I take it back, you little fuck–”

“Can’t take it back!” He rolls with you gripping onto your kicking legs until you come to a stop beside the coffee table, straddling his hips. You sit back on your heels to glare down at him, but he’s still chuckling. His eyes twinkle in the low light of your living room. “No takesies-backsies.”

This position is… too familiar. It’s intimate– it’s like you’re two normal lovers on an autumn afternoon, kicking around and doing stupid shit and just enjoying each other’s company.

Something is changing. No matter how sexually charged the relationship has been until now, something feels different. It’s in the way he looks up at you like you hung the moon. It’s in the way you lean forward and trace his lower lip with the tip of your finger, humming to yourself all the while.

Eddie stares directly into your eyes as he slowly opens his mouth and takes your finger between his teeth, his lips curving up into a mischievous smile.

“No,” you sing at him, soft but stern like he’s a misbehaving pet. “Open.”

He blinks, and releases your finger with a curious expression. You lean further down, nearly nudging your nose with his as your fingertip strokes gently down his extended tongue, his hot breath coming out gift wrapped with a sigh. Eddie snakes his arms around your waist as you replace your finger with your own tongue, sealing your mouth against his.

Handsy. You guess that’s what you can call him– you haven’t kissed him like this before, soft and sensual and unrushed. While his tongue works against yours in a way that has your mind reeling, his hands wander down to cup your ass and squeeze, until you squeak against his mouth and lurch against his touch.

The thing about this is… well. You’re not entirely sure where you stand with him anymore. Is he your patron demon? Is he your boyfriend? Infernal demon boyfriend with a sweet streak that only you get to see?

Every nerve in your body is on fire, and he’s seemingly happy to drive you crazy while you try your best not to grind down onto him. It’s all a little bit too much for you to process right now– with the way things are going, you’re wondering if you’re set for life. Who the fuck is going to compare to a demon, now that you have one? What human person will ever match up?

“I think you’ve ruined me for everyone else,” you whisper conspiratorially, letting your lips drag against his.

“Tell you a secret?” Eddie’s voice is warm in the back of his throat. He peers at you through his lashes, eyes heavy-lidded and twinkling with the barest flicker of a flame in his deep brown irises. “That was my plan all along.”

“You monster.”

“You got me all figured out.” He snickers once, dimples indenting rosy cheeks that are much too pretty to belong to a demon, but you’re starting to suspend your disbelief. Eddie’s laughter dies in his chest when your mouth attaches to his neck; a hollow noise takes its place, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows it down.

Hands hiking his t-shirt up over his stomach, you’re inching your way down his body like you have a plan, and Eddie’s frozen beneath you like he’s trying to figure out what it is. It takes him just a couple seconds, until your tongue connects with the trail of hair running down his stomach, and then he smirks knowingly.

“Oh, I see,” he hums, his eyebrows raising as you lick your way down toward his belt. “You’re a keen little thing, aren’t you? Don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“Shut up, Eddie.” It doesn’t come out as sharp as you intend for it to, because your hands are fiddling with his belt. You pull it free from his jeans and fling it over the coffee table with more force than necessary.

“Buy my silence,” he mutters sarcastically with a shit-eating grin. A playful glimmer sparkles in his eye as you curl your fingers into his waistband and tear at them, but he doesn’t move to help you at all. “Nine ninety-nine a month, with tax. Quick, before the rates go up.”

You’re shaking your head, shooting him a caustic glare as your mouth finds the soft skin just beneath his waistline. You just want to get his pants off however you can– if you have to rip them off of him, so be it.

“Oop– ten ninety-nine a month. Better think fast, baby.”

You yank them down his hips, just low enough that you can nuzzle and lick into the thick patch of hair over his groin. You breathe in the scent of his skin, lingering just beneath all his usual smoke. Warmth and salt, as though he’s real and not just the corporeal manifestation of a spirit.

“...E-eleven– ninety-ni– hmm.” Eddie’s giddy voice dies as a purr in his throat, his head rocking back against the floor. He gasps when drool rolls off of your parted lips, wetting the skin of his hip just before you suck a hickey there. He squirms. “Fuck it. You get it for free.”

“Just wanna suck you off,” you whisper, a little more slack jawed and unhinged than you were before. You suck in a deep breath and lave your tongue over the base of his cock, as it peeks out over the waist of his jeans. “Wanna taste you everywhere, baby.”

“Christ– M’not gonna stop you. Go ahead, take what you want, sweetheart.”

Eddie hisses through his teeth, his hips jumping when you lift his cock out of his pants. Warmth settles in the pit of your stomach, pulsing between your legs when you wrap your fingers around it. It’s so much better than in your dream– it’s thicker, massive, the vein along the bottom pulsing in your hand.

You spit onto it, mixing your saliva with the bead of precum gathered on the head. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Eddie.”

He gasps, kicks his hips up into your fist. “Y–you’re so fucki– hhng–”

You shush him, and look up as you trail your tongue along his shaft, feeling him twitch against you. Mouthing kisses along it, wet and soft, you suck just a bit with each one to watch his chest leap with his breath. “I wanna take you to pieces.”

“Shit–” Eddie lifts his head to gaze down at you, eyes glassy, lips red and parted as he pants. “You’re gorgeous. Oh, honey…”

Eddie moans when you slide his head into your mouth, letting your tongue glide gently over his slit. His hand flies down, tangling into your hair, the metal of his rings digging into your scalp.

You open your mouth and take him in as far as he’ll go, until he hits the back of your throat and you choke.

“Such a good fucking girl for me,” Eddie breathes, his hand on the back of your head grounding you like an anchor. “Just look at you, baby. So fuckin’ perfect, god.”

Actually, you feel like a mess, with spit dribbling down your chin and eyes watering when he hits the back of your throat. Sniffling from the tears and the lack of air, gagging on his cock. Drunk on sin and the taste of his flesh.

You imagine that’s probably what he considers perfection, though.

He stiffens when you swallow around him, your hands wrapping around his hips in an attempt to hold him down. Eddie makes a soft sound in his throat– something you might mistake as submissive, if his hand in your hair weren’t pushing you harder down onto his cock, forcing you to gag on him. The tightening of your throat around him is enough to make him twitch in your mouth.

He sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck–”

Lips dripping saliva, your throat flexes just before you pull off with a wet gasping noise that makes Eddie curse and tighten his fist in your hair. You can’t be coy, can’t pretend like you aren’t fucking wrecked; you’re a mess of spit and tears, the salt of his precum on your tongue and in the back of your throat.

Dipping your head, you nuzzle down to suck at his balls. Slick lips latching onto soft skin, suckling just enough to make him howl and buck his hips up against your hold. You lap at him with your tongue, hearing his moan crackle in his throat with a prideful grin.

You gaze up at him with glassy eyes when he reaches down with one big hand to fist his swollen cock. Rings glint in the light and catch on his skin with a sharp edge, contrasting your light touch on his balls, making him flex his hips up into his own hand.

You’re mesmerized, watching his hand work in front of your face, with your spit and his fluids spilling over his knuckles. It kicks up a sticky, wet sound that makes something deep in your gut flutter.

“Open your mouth,” Eddie grits out, in such a commanding tone that you don’t even think to question him. You just do.

The muscles of his stomach tightens when he cums, his breath hitching on the inhale. Ropes of white spurt from his tip while he groans so loud it could rattle the ceiling. Some of it gets in your mouth, but most gets on your face– large drops on your cheeks, clinging to your lips and your chin. You moan when you lick the excess from your lips before you swallow, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Fuckin– filthy little girl, aren’t you?” Eddie murmurs, and reaches forward to snatch your face with his wet fingers. His rings dig into your messy cheeks, smearing his cum across your skin.

You gasp, your eyes flying open to meet his, as he grins evilly down at you. It makes you shudder, a moan caught in your throat. Your face burns. The mark on your wrist throbs in the shape of his name.

“Yeah, sweetheart. My dirty girl, all covered in my cum like that.” His thumb pets your cheek, sticky on your skin as he plays with it. “What a pretty fuckin’ painting.”

You whine as he pulls you upwards, clambering over his body. Your cunt throbs between your legs, and it turns worse when he yanks you toward his face.

Eddie’s tongue drags up your cheek, licking his cum off of your face. It makes the blood rush beneath your skin, makes your body heat up with just how filthy it all truly is. He hums low, licking your mouth and letting the tip of his tongue catch on your teeth, leaving your skin wet and stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Hm,” he grunts after a moment, tilting his head as he looks at you. Your cheeks are pinched between his fingers, your lips puckered in a way that you’re sure isn’t very sexy, but he doesn’t seem deterred by it. Eddie cracks a grin and says, “No, I don’t think I’m very sweet. Tastes more umami.”

“Oh my god.” You bark a laugh, ripping your face away from his grip so you can roll off of him.

Eddie snatches you before you can get away, pulling you down so that he can playfully bite at your cheek, giggling along with you. “No, don’t go baby, I gotta clean you up–”

“You’re obnoxious,” you cackle at him, letting him roll with you across the floor, feeling a sort of obsessive delight consume your voice.

He smushes his face against yours, and you can feel his teeth as he grins, scraping your skin. There’s an undertone to your thoughts as he does, which makes your heart pound in your chest when you acknowledge it for what it is.

You love him. You love him. You love him.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #tdik!fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #demon!eddie munson #demon!eddie #stranger things fic #roses*

158 notes · View notes

cherrycolored-punk · 5 days ago

Text

take a bite out of these

just an updated list of all of my favorite creators so far! I’m sure there will be plenty more added 🖤

thank you for sharing your talent and your amazing creations!

this is a little long so all recs are below the cut !

can also follow my tag #el’s fic recs

Eddie -

crash + fall by @trashmouth-richie - an ongoing soulmate AU series about my favorite freak that I’m already so very in love with and is written so beautifully.

she fucking hates me by @littlexdeaths - I’m still foaming at the mouth over this bully!Eddie x reader fic. it’s so fucking hot and I don’t think I’ll be over it any time soon (or ever).

after hours by @hellfire--cult - I am fairly new to the omegaverse and holy fuck what an introduction this was. I love a dominate Eddie and oh my god did Roe deliver.

sailor’s delight by @dr-aculaaa - this fic made me YEARN in a way I wasn’t prepared for. Drac is an amazing writer and I just wanna live in this little world they created.

let's go, don't wait by @carolmunson - the fic that has me questioning why none of my online dates have ever been this good. I fucking love this story so much, just wanna live in a world where teacher!Eddie falls in love with.

daylight by @abibliophobiaa - while I tend to stay away from pregnancy!AUs, this one had me hooked. It's cute, sweet, hot. I need a dad!Eddie stat.

twenty-four hours / coffee shop blues by @ghost-proofbaby - ghost is hands down one of my favorite Eddie writers. She writes him in a way that makes me fall in love time and time again. as a bonus, if you're a fan of astarion, she's written the moon will sing (i love you like the sun) which is just as beautifully written as the rest of her works.

the biology tutor by @mrsjellymunson - I binged this in a day, the premise and the smut were so damn hot that I couldn't get enough.

everlong by @andvys - this was my first introduction to andy's work and it has remained a favorite ever since. has so many amazing stories but there's something about a secret relationship behind Steve's back that gets me.

the yes policy / wish you were here by @pinkrelish - the way I lost sleep reading through both of these fics. I love the worlds that Alyson created and the version of Eddie she gifted us with. I've read them over and over again.

to know you’re mine by @blueywrites - I read through this series in a day, losing sleep may I add, because I was that addicted to it. I will admit, at first, I didn’t think it’d be my jam because of the swinger dynamic but holy shit does Bluey make it both tender and hot at the same time. I almost combusted. I seriously couldn’t get enough. She is an amazing writer and I can’t wait to read more of her work.

for your viewing pleasure / shelter from the storm by @rebelfell - the way Sarah has me absolutely on my knees for Eddie every time I read one of her fics…they genuinely leave me UNWELL (in the best way). like for your viewing pleasure? I was a little unsure at first (would I get jealous over a fictional man having relations with other fictional women?) but then I devoured it. it’s so insanely hot and she is one of the best smut writers on here. and shelter from the storm? pllleeeeasseee Eddie show up on my doorstep to check up on me in a storm. Please offer to get me there.

Steve -

we tried the world / she drives me crazy by @upsidedownwithsteve - if there is an author I equate with a character, it's Emmy with Steve. I was a diehard Eddie girl until I read her stories and fell in love with my favorite dork again and again. All her works are seriously a gift that I always return to.

all i really want is you / colors by @loveshotzz - the first author that made me even consider an older!Steve let alone fall in love with him over and over in every way she writes him. I will never be over either of these fics and re-visit them all the time.

we'll call it love by @superblysubpar - I've said before that this is part of my top ten and still is to this day. I revisit it often, falling back into this world. dreaming of this steve. story is so witty, funny and hot while also remaining tender in many moments. Also, simply the best - the title is pretty self-explanatory because the story is already that…simply the best. It’s ongoing but I am already hooked. I love the Spider-Man!Steve AU and Taylor is an amazing writer so I know it’s only going to keep getting better.

asking for a favor by @wroteclassicaly - this struck me right in all the perfect feels and Kristen has a way of doing that. I have a long to be read list but Kristen is all over it. She's an amazing writer and I love all her angst / smut.

Jonathan -

rise and shine by @eiightysixbaby - I hadn’t read a fic for Jonathan before, or really considered it, but man…this fic managed to convert me. Now I need him in the biblical sense.

Billy -

no charge by @hellfire--cult - oh. my. fuck. what a fast conversion this was to a Billy fan. Jaw on the floor, wondering why I don’t have a hot hot hot Billy knocking on my floor to give me the ultimate striptease plus 8 inches extra.

honey honey by @pastel-pillows - speaking of my fast train to a Billy fan, this is the fic that really started it all. He is so sweet in this, and I just ache for a soft Billy since reading this amazing fic.

@boltedfruit

@selineabanto

@xgumiho

@tubesock86

@stervrucht

@toktopus-art

@donttellunclesam

@littleststarfighter

@tellme-astory

@jemmacdraws

@obligatedart

@strangergraphics (graphics / headers / dividers)

@hugdealer (some of my favorites edited photos of Eddie)

@freckledjoes (photos / gifs)

@werewolfnat (formerly kingofscoops)

@djo

@steveharringtondaily

@batty4steddie

@emziess

most, if not all, of these are Eddie coded

you know I can eat you better than he can

getting hate fucked on your crushes bed by his best friend

post campaign pleasure with your dungeon master

your bully finds out you have a crush on him

#el’s fic recs #el’s rec list

126 notes · View notes

wonik1ss · 5 months ago

Text

✦ JUST SWINGING IN — ❝ kim minji ❞

[ 널 내게로, burn it up, 네 손길로, turn it up ]

synopsis • after meeting spider”man” in a mall robbery you just can’t seem to shake the city’s hero ( 4.4k ) fluff < playlist rec : just swinging in 🕸️ >

a/n : it’s finally here ! my longest fic !

you adjusted your glasses as you got down to your beakers level. just one drop and your class would be-

“oh I’m such a klutz sorry..”

“y/n..”

“yeah yeah”. hana waved you of as she pretended to limp over to your freshly 24 year old professor.

“we can use mine..”. yunah giggled as you got ahold of her hand grasping it for dear life.

“oh you sweet sweet angel!”

“calm down I already finnished anyways ..!”. you thanked your friend again and then began to jot down some notes. you were not even three months into college when your favorite class became your least favorite. last week your professor who looked like he was deadly close to kicking the bucket decided to fight a student and he ‘retired’ the school says by his own volition..

now with your new much younger professor you felt like panties were dropping left and right.

“it’s like seeing two birds mate..”. yunah playfully shushed you as a bell rang.

“ok see you all next week..!”. already packed up you and yunah giggled as your professor struggled to get your fellow classmate to leave too.

“so the mal-“

“can’t.. jihan needs to study for her science test and I can’t let her fail..!”. you nodded as yunah ran of to find her bestfriend. ever since you started all your new friends were old friends to others. so after school ended it was either frat party’s or staying at home binging kdramas.

you tried though. you went to three frat party’s in the three months you been their for no more then three minutes. after one minute you were seen as fresh meat, two y they stalked forward, and threw a bunch of horny college boys tired their luck with you

“his boobs were moving”. yunah tilted her head as she painted your nails.

“guys don’t have tits.. y/n”

“well.. he’s peeks like.. twitched..”. you heard a door open and you laughed at jihan s open mouth.

“you should have let me come..!”. as jihan played with your painted hand you went on to the point yunah had to close jihan a mouth herself.

snapping out of your daydream you stepped of the bus ear buds on. you went to get the essentials first. a new tooth brush since your roommate stepped on your old one, some more shower products then finally you got to your wants. walking into the sanrio store happy by wjsn playing in your ears.

you shopped to your hearts desire. or until you reached your debit cards limit. once you were done you wandered into a comic shop. but what caught your eye wasn’t the comics but the red and blue merch.

after coming to seol for that better education you soon found out in your part that somewhat resembled nyc a spiderman ran around helping peopl. last week it was snake in a tree, the next was the culprit of a cat napping and now you saw his suit on the cutest jacket.

$50

“fucking inflation”

“I know right..!”. you head jerked to the old white man in the front of the store.

“sorr-“

“no no I understand.. I tried to haggle it down but he’s just got to famous for that now..”. you smiled and as you put the tag of the jacket down you heard the caching.

“take it I’m closing up shop in a few days and it would suit you”. you tried to say no put the man put the jacket and something else in your bag and you bowed and thanked him on your way out. until you fell on your ass.

“watch it dude!”. when you looked up he was long gone and a bunch of people ran following. as you dusted of your legs you heard a stomp then another then another. you tried to scramble to your feet but his eyes trapped you. what looked like an old timely soldier. his eyes glowed blue.. it was like you were in a trance.

“thy must join me or per-“

“army’s are so old timey man just start a cult of something”. you saw red and blue legs infront of you.

“..I shall repeat myself onc-“

“are you alright miss?”. spider-man helped you up while simultaneously webbing the soldier to the mall wall.

“yeah.. shouldn’t you be fighting him though”

“feel like I should help a pretty lady escape first..”. you stood stunned when spider-man winked at you and rushed you to hide in his merch store..

“now how about you travel back in time and leave this poor mall alone..?”. the soldier broke the webs and charged at the webbed boy. spider-man dodged. webbing the soldiers face.

“I am the all powerful blamore kneel to me !”

“bla bla bla..”. spider-man pretends to yawn as the soldier pulled of the sword on his back and and tried to strike spider man again. put the man webbed it to wall.

“how far did you come from bro your really out of shape !”. after a couple hits taken from both men, you got tired of waiting. it had been twenty minutes and you could tell the solider was wearing down but spider-man was also.

“man let’s just call it a nig-“. you threw a spider man plushie at the soldier. both guys stated at you dumbfounded. taking this as you chance you keep on throwing the plushies. spider man getting the hint punched the solider in his face. after a few more hits the soldier fell unconscious. peering over the cash register spider man tilted his head at you hands gripping the counter.

“you know this is my job.. right..”

“didn’t look like it”. as you straightened up spider mans grip loosened as he chuckled. you didn’t know how to say it but you knew it wasn’t organic.

“are you using a voice changer?”. spider man stopped laughing and started to walk backwards as you left the counter and walked towards him.

“w-what no”. you crossed your arms as the spider tapped his neck twice and his voice got lower and then you heard a crack.

“did you just break your voice changer..?!”. giving up spider man nodded while staring at the floor. you bent your knees and tilted your head up at him.

“who knew seoul’s super hero was such a pus..”. as you smiled spider man raised his head and scratched his neck.

“I.. I peoples lives you know”

“mm”

“I mean the lady’s love me..!”. the spider gestured to the store. you picked up your jacket and your shopping bags and looked back at the strange guy.

“you have a really attractive voice spider boy”. you heard a pft as you walked out of the store

“and you have a nice style”. if there was ever a time you would be able to blush this would be it.

as the weeks went on you started to drift more to the spider man side of seoul. suddenly you found yourself searching up about the spiders past saves. a kid from a car that was falling of a bridge, a vaulter and much more. with this new interest came new merch.

“omg it’s like your his groupie now..”. jihan said as she showed one of the spider-man plushies to yunah who giggled.

“I mean it’s not like his an eyesore..”. with that jihan jumped on your bed.

“did you know hana was there when that guy tried to steal those old lady’s purses and she swore she saw the imprint of his abs on his suit..!”. you grabbed the plushie and put it back on your bed.

“hana also probably has connections to that one big drug dealer”. jihan wrinkled her nose and waved you off.

“well you should know y/n.. you were in the mall when that soldier guy stormed in right..?”

“blamore, he’s a soldier from like caesar’s time..”. jihan and yunah looked at eachother.

“I think your a little obsessed”

“no I just became.. a fan”. jihan looked you up and down.

“that spider man shirt says otherwise..”. you threw one of your other shirts on her and yunah giggled.

“are we going to get jihan that c or what ?”

“you said I could get an a !”. as you changed and jihan pouted yunah patted her head.

“yeah in a few years if you actually had a studying schedule..”. you giggled as you grabbed your purse and jihan stomped out of your dorm room.

approaching the library jihan gobbled down her corn dog.

“like what I’m going to slather the book pages with ketchup?”

“knowing how you eat you probably would”. jihan pushed you and before you noticed it you collide with something.

“oh shit I’m sorry”

“no problem.. just watching your step next time”. with that and a smile the tomboyish girl hurried into the library.

“nerd”

“that’s got to be you in a few weeks if you want to pass that math final !”. as yunah went on jihan zoned out and so did you. for some weird reason you felt compelled to the tomboyish girl. she looked really cute with her backwards cap, and her sweatshirt that was way to big for her.. how could she make her mess of a low bun look so good..?

“earth to y/n it’s been and hour and all you have done to help is stare blankly at the exit.. I think that means we should leave !”. jihan said as she turned to yunah who was nose deep in a book.

“sorry was just thinking about something”

“your web man”

“he’s not my anything”

“you zoned out and drew him in a sticky note.. he must mean something to you..”. your eyes widened at the post-it note jihan held up snatching it and throwing it at the trash can.

“if your not going to any help to help me study at least have aim”. you flicked the girls forehead as you actually started to help her. in the corner of your eye you swore you saw someone pick your trash up put never put it in the actual trash. to bad jihan face planting into her books distracted you.

one hour turned into two and two turned into four and you all parted your ways from the library. you ended up walking a small corner store for a small snack. as you walked in the owner waved you at and you smiled back. you grabbed your favorite snacks and a drink and as you were about to check out you felt something cold on your neck.

“get me the money from the cash register of I shoot her”. your breath shallowed as the owner hurriedly tried to find the key. a soldier and now a robber who smelt like.. tuna.. what’s next..?

suddenly the pressure of the gun was gone and your eyes darted to your side.

“I didn’t even get to ask for her number yet dude..!”. the robber struggled to get up while spider man turned to you.

“you ok..?”

“you should as the cash-“. turning to face the counter you saw the man had run out the door.

“looks like he’s spoken for”. you giggled and your swore the bug boys eyes widened.

“you gunna ask for my number yet..?”. the boy tilted his head and then you could feel the presence of his smile.

“yeah just gotta catch a bad guy no biggy”. you nodded as spider man webbed the robber to the stores door. webbing his mouth last.

“so that..”. you placed a note in his hand and as you walked out you turned around and signaled a call me with your fingers. so while spider boy geeked out you skipped all the way to your dorm snacks acquired. for the next two weeks you kept having run ins with the webbed boy.

“you didn’t answer my call”. you could hear the pout in the boys voice as you looked up from your subway seat. realizing your lips were suck tapped and so where your hands the boy jumped down and untied you.

“are you trying to say texting some spider boy is more important then my college degree..?”. thinking for amount spider man spoke.

“ya I thought we had something”. spider-man patted his chest as we walked away to un-duck tape the rest of the passengers.

“no you have a thing for stalking me..”

“not my fault your so crime prone”. you smiled as the boy stuck a note onto the subway hijackers head.

“you think that’s enough?”

“mmhm ‘someone’s been a very bad boy sorry cops sad face’”. you turned and frowned at the spider boy at the last part.

“don’t drown your ruin your beautiful face”. spider man nudged your face up as he heard multiple feet coming your way and winked and webbed the ceiling and left.

a few days later a museum was under attack by some rogue robots.

“you didn’t pay for the damages you caused for the subways ceiling..!”. as spider man pummeled one of the robots face in he laughed.

“you know your voice is even more pretty over the phone..!”

“your basically a villian too..”. as spider man beat the last robot her walked over and crouched down to your level.

“I thought girls liked bad guys..”

“considering your a boy and not a guy..”. spider smiled and untied your hands.

“get your degree or something dumb isn’t the new cute you know..”

“property damage isn’t the new hot..”. spider man winked at you as police ran in.

then again a week later at a outdoor frat party with some unwanted witch guests

“so you see I’ve been thinking..”

“shit you do that”. as spider man threw several webs at the witches he faked a laugh.

“could we maybe go on a date..”

“you don’t even have my actual number..”. he paused.

“what..?!”

“I gave you some sex lines number.. i don’t know who’s under that mask”. behind the bar you winked.

“your wicked..! we had deep conversations..!”. webs flew everywhere only a few catching the witches as they chanted spells that made him levitate.

“about what..?”

“how far cindy was from my location..!”. you giggled. he got your humor.

“so how about that date”. one witch was knocked out the other wouldn’t back down.

“where?”

“the roof of the candy exhibit on crest street..?”

“sure..spidey”. with a laugh spiderman webbed the witch to the floor and walked over to you.

“wear your best dress”

“wear your best onesie..”

“hah your funny”

“does it look ok?”. jihan and yunah titled their heads and then jihan ran over to you pulling the dress up a bit.

“perfect”

“I feel the air on my ass jihan”. the girl shrugged.

“just looked like you were in a night gown before sorry..”. you playfully hit her as yunah gave you your bag.

“remember I put a taser in your bag if anything goes wrong”

“what do you mean?”. jihan laughed.

“this man’s enemies are all over the city.. you might need it..”. you sighed as jihan reapplied your lipstick and you walked out the door. you decided to talk but you started to regret that decision as the high heels jihan picked out seemed to not be on your side today.

so as you half hazardly limped to the rooftop, a certain spider’boy’ just got home. spiderman slowly opened his window and crawled onto his ceiling. quietly crawling down the wall to jump infront of his door tapping the middle of his chest to tak of his suit.

“DUDE HAVE SOME SELF AWARENESS”. spiderman screamed like a girl because he?.. she was one. minji kim one day while studying like crazy fell asleep and got bit by a spider and she screamed the same way.

“HANNI WHAT THE FICK ARE YOU DOING HERE?”

“i don’t know you texted me to get here so as a good friend I did! what’s up?”. as minji changed into some streetwear hanni rolled her eyes.

“you stalked a girl and she willingly went on a date with you.. scratch that she probably was just scared…”. minji threw her back pack at the girl and she fell backwards onto the bunk bed.

“I swear she flirted with me though.. on like all occasions?”

“what happens when she finds out your a girl and not some.. tom holland look alike?”. minji paused and cursed.

“what if I just go in my suit? I could date a girl in my suit right?”. hanni sat up.

“mhm every girl loves making out with latex suits”. wiggling her eyebrows hanni made minji laugh and bit her lip.

“well maybe I’ll just wear the suit this time”. I’m lightning speed minji changed.

“you liked the tie”. minji flicked the tie she glued onto the suit as hanni looked between her and the door.

“FUCK AUNT TAEYEON! ”. taeyeon slapped the back of minji’s head.

“you got beat and bruised to ask out a girl who doesn’t even know your a girl??”. Minji scratched the back of her neck.

“no..”. taeyeon hit the back of her head again.

“your lucky I got a date.. if your not home by twelve your internship is done..”. aunt tae squinted her eyes at the teenage girl and then broke into a smile.

“so happy your finally dating.. oh wasn’t it yesterday I found out you even liked humans in gen-“. minji pushed aunt taeyeon as hanni giggled.

“can’t wait to hear about your date..!”. minji scowled as she climbed out her window but as soon as she was jumping from building to building no one but her knew the smile she held underneath her mask.

“is he calling me fat or something.. these stairs are killing me…

you stopped in your tracks as you reached the door leading to the rooftop. you heard promise by laufey playing. what guy listens to laufey..? opening the door you saw spiderman straighten up in his seat patting the pillow next to him.

“your late..”

“I just went up like twenty flights of stairs your lucky I even came..”. you stopped to see fairy lights lining the rooftop and peering below you a checkered blanket two pillows a basket and a candle. even further below a market of people with dazzling lights.

“pretty right..?”. you rolled your eyes to see spiderman already looking at you.

“I’m eighteen not stupid..”. Spider-Man held his head low as you giggled.

“oh thank god I was thinking you could be way older..”. you gasped and hit his knee.

“your the one head to toe covered in a suit!”. he laughed as he opened the basket. to reveal two sandwhiches, cupcakes and sugary soft drinks. spider-man set it all up and when he finnished looked at you.

“why are you smiling like that”. minji blushed a bit. after all her joking she finally looked at your outfit and you looked perfect.

“what I can’t smile?”

“no I mea-“

“just didn’t expect you to be such a gentleman..”. minji smiled and stood up urging you to join her. you stood up and tilted your head. minji got closer and you froze. she held your waist to make sure you didn’t fall and tilted your chin from her to the sky.

“woah..”

“yeah.. guess we haven’t ruined everything on earth..”. you smiled as you looked back at her.

“you really do so much.. what if I didn’t come?”. you stood on your tippy toes with your chin up, minji laughed.

“your lose..”. she got closer.

“your some random guy in a spider suit..”. you got closer.

“who fights crime”. she got closer.

“and looks hot doing it..”. as you got closer and closer you attempted to close your eyes as you pulled up his mask. thump thump thump.

“look dude I’m pret-“

slam

you turned around to see the warrior. blamore. he grabbed you by the waist and jumped two times the height of the building all the way to the infamous bridge spidey fought the reptile doctor at. it wasn’t easy for him though you keep tazing him the whole ride there.

“let me go !”

“not until your warrior is defeated !”. you rolled your eyes as he sat you on the roof of a car and used his gold rope to tie you up. you rolled your eyes as he use the rope around your mouth.

“you may delay the fight if you keep using that mouth of yours”. people ran and screamed as he seemed to power up glowing with every step he took looking in the sky for spider-man.

“you ruined my date”. blamore had no time to react as he was slammed onto the roof of a car.

“I study all day..”. a punch to the ribs.

“and all fucking night..”. a dislocation of his left leg.

“to finally ask her out..”. spiderman is punched to the floor.

“and you ruin it”. getting up a fist fight starts with a jab to blamores face and a sword slash to spider-man’s torso. instead of just watching you picked up your taser and while bending over backwards to laser through the rope you broke it taking of the rope on your mouth aswell. but instead of running a way for some reason you saw a baseball bat on the road and took it up.

somehow spiderman was now holding onto the bridge with all the strength he had left. the slashes with the sword never stopped and now he was bloody on the side of the bridge. but as blamore got closer you hit him over the head and helped spidey up.

just before you felt something on your throat.

“jump and she stays alive”. amour worn down hay knocked off and blamore still wanted the fight. you tried to use the taser but blamore just used it agonist your waist. you tried to not cry but that just made the tears fall down.

“spide-“

“it’s ok..”. backing away spider man fell. but just as soon as he fell you saw a web on your waist. the sword loosened and suddenly you were in his arms. blamore threw his sword with all his might but as she ran towards spidey he fell to his own demise.

“you ok?”. spiderman held your face in his hands.

“are you ok…”. you stared down at his waist and helped him to the side of a car.

“I’m so sorry.. guess he was just jealous..”. you pulled out tiny band aids and he laughed.

“just.. just text my bestfriend..”. with a sigh he told you his passcode and you texted the username ‘nando’ and caressed his cheek.

“shouldn’t I take of your ma-“

“no..”

“I’ll have a better chance fixing your face..!”. minji threw his head back.

“just..just close your eyes for a minute”. you did and after a minute you felt two hands take them away. infront of you sat a korean girl with a busted lip a cut on her eyebrow and some scratches here and there.. the finest one being under her right eye. immediately you put a spiderman band aid under her eye.

“no reaction..”

“you still look hot.. just more bloody then I expected”. minji laughed as you patched up her face with tissue and whatever was in your bag.

“you liked bruised college students..?”

“didn’t know thugs went to school”

“it’s not my fault he interrupted our date..”. you but your lip.

“should have just finished him off at the mall..”

“dirty.. I like it..”. you gasped as minji winked. as he held onto your waist and webbed his way throught the city. as you landed on the rooftop you stood stunned. minji patted your hair down and sat down.

“my names minji..”

“huh..”

“minji kim”. you turned around still in a haze.

“can we finnish our date now.. before the ants get to it..?”. minji tilted her head and you still shocked sat down next to her and took a bite of the sandwhich.

“you can’t cook for shit”. spiting out the sandwhich minji frowned.

“..I thought hybe had the best cooking classes..”. you laughed.

“I go there two how have I never seen you..?”

“I don’t know.. maybe because I’m always.. I don’t know.. fighting crime”. you nudged her shoulder as she ate her cupcake.

“oh fuck your right..”. you laughed as minji told you to turn around so she could change and you both could get some actual food. while at the same time as hanni approached the bridge she looked to to see a text ‘I’m still bloody just eating ramen with her! love uuuuu’

“sooo since I got a big fat c- can we go to that tanghulu stall! you can bring sunoo and and taesan”. you nodded as you text your new boy-friends. after last weeks events you thought making new friends was nothing. you even went to invite hanni too.

“sooo.. can you also invite the mystery girl..?”. you sighed and typed away as yunah poked your waist.

“so sad nothing happened with spidey though..”. jihan sighed.

“what if he had like a hot friend.. we would have it it of-“. jihan triped walking backwards and fell into the hands of a certain australian.

“oh shit you ok..?”. jihan looked up star gazed with a certain hue of pink dotting her cheeks.

“I’m jihan..”. hanni nodded and waved to you.

“oh hay I didn’t know you were still on campus we were heading to the tanghulu place!”. you laughed as minji opened her mouth.

“I told you we were going the right way”. just as you went to her side you felt something coming your way.

“oh shit sorry.. y-“. minji held the football in her hands and handed to the black haired boy.

“minji.. just got fast reflex’s ha ha..”. minji scratched the back of her head as sunoo nudged you about her. looking up you saw a big boom a few blocks away. you looked over to see minji already gone, hanni texting you.

“oh guys I forgot I got to study!”. jihan pulled on your sleeve as hanni volunteered to help you and as the rest left you looked up to see a certain spider slinging from building to building. jumping in the black van hanni looked at the cameras as you put in your ear piece. to hear some famous lines from spidey that the old shop keeper would probably put on a t-shirt as Minji approached the new villian.

“oh sorry dude I’m just swinging in”

#kpop fanfic #kpop #kpop idol x reader #kpop imagines #kpopidol #kpop gg #kpop smau #reader x idol #kpop girls #reader insert

144 notes · View notes

burnednotburied · 7 months ago

Text

Chapter 1: A New Prophet

AO3 Link | Masterlist

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slow burn; enemies to friends to lovers; animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/injury; cutting (not to self, but still); religious/cult-like ideas

Note: So the idea for this started as a prequel to my first fic (linked here), but ended up turning into something different. It basically follows the plot of Abby’s Seattle Day 1, diverging from canon where necessary and using dialogue from the game wherever possible.

This is a lot of build-up (important to the story and hopefully enjoyable to read), but I promise romance is on the horizon!

Also, the idea of deadnaming or misgendering Lev—even in the flashback part where they’re little kids and wouldn’t have known otherwise—physically pains me, so we’re going to pretend that reader has been calling Lev “L” as a nickname for forever.

Hope you enjoy! :)

----------------------------------------------------------------

April 2038

Abby knew as much about the Scars as any of her fellow WLF members.

She knew that the group was founded by a woman who claimed to have a vision after the initial outbreak of Cordyceps brain infection in 2013, and then started spouting some bullshit about how it was all just a punishment for the sins of humanity. Said that the way to move forward was to go back to the basics. Live off the land. Reject technology and progress and pretty much all the good things in life.

She knew that they live on the island but they wouldn’t fucking stay on it, and that there was once a truce but they broke it, forcing the WLF into an endless war.

She knew that they fought hard and killed brutally, without hesitation or remorse.

She knew that, especially now that Joel was taken care of, killing Scars was pretty much her life’s purpose.

And she knew that the woman who started all of this became known as The Prophet. And that Isaac gave the order to have her killed ten years ago.

It was for that reason that Abby thought Isaac must have misspoken when he opened with:

“The Prophet is on the move.”

He was standing over the large map of Seattle in the center of the room, hands braced on the table, head down in thought.

She didn’t know what to make of that. Or how to respond. A quick glance over at Manny confirmed that she wasn’t the only one who was confused.

One of them had to ask. It seemed Isaac wasn’t going to fill in the gaps unprompted.

“The Prophet?” Manny questioned hesitantly. “Sir… respectfully… She’s been dead for years. Died before we even joined.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m the one who killed her.” Isaac was always calm and measured, almost always spoke quietly. But sometimes there was something beneath his words, just below the surface. Something seething and kind of terrifying, although Abby would never admit that out loud. This was one of those times.

“My unwilling informants downstairs,” he said, referring to the captive Scars being held and interrogated on the building’s lower levels, “tell me that they have a new Prophet. One their Elders have been quietly grooming for the role for the last decade, maybe even longer.”

“Okay so… What does that mean?” Abby asked, finding her voice. This was not the conversation she was expecting to have when she heard that Isaac wanted to talk to them. She had hoped to get some answers about what was going on with Owen.

“There’s a reason why they’ve been more resilient lately. Bolder. Even more bat-shit than normal.” He clenched his fists on the table. “This… Neo-Prophet,” Isaac almost laughed, the words coated in venom, “is about to fully step into her role. She is of age now. Or so I’ve been told.”

Abby stared at Isaac, still waiting for him to tell her what all of this meant. And what exactly he wanted her to do about it.

Manny jumped in. “What? So the Scars are… celebrating? You’re saying that’s why they’ve been ballsier? Killing more of us. Pushing further inland.”

Abby let out a short laugh. “If this is what it looks like when they’re happy, I don’t want to see what happens when they’re mad.”

Isaac remained stoic. “They have a renewed sense of purpose. When we killed their first Prophet, the Scars were enraged. They fought hard for vengeance. But people will only fight on behalf of a dead woman for so long. Passion for the cause wanes without something tangible to fight for. They need that higher authority to look to. They need someone to honor and defend. Their Elders were smart enough to know that their people need a unifying symbol. A living one.”

“Right, and you said that unifying symbol was on the move so…” Abby said. “Want us to hunt her down? See what they’ll do when we take away their new favorite toy?”

“No,” Isaac said quickly. “She’s not our target. We’ll get to her in due time.”

“Then wha—”

He cut her off. “The Prophet will be leaving the island soon, for the first time. In fact, it’s possible she’s already here. One of our captives tells me there will be some sort of initiation for her. I don’t know what that entails, but I’m sure it will involve attempting to kill some of ours. I’ll spend some more time with our friends downstairs and see if I can’t get any more information on that. We’ll try to prevent it if we can, but that’s not our main focus right now.” Abby opened her mouth to protest, only to be cut off once again. “With the Prophet away and many of their best soldiers traveling with her, the island will be more vulnerable than ever.”

Manny gestured to the map, reinserting himself into the conversation. “Sir, we’ve tried attacking their island and—”

“Not like this,” Isaac said. “Not with everyone. There’s a big storm a few days out. We’re going to use it to mask our approach. And you two are going to lead the first wave. Pick your squads. Start prepping.”

“And the Prophet?” Abby asked.

“One battle at a time, Abby.”

“Are we sure it would be a battle?” she pressed. “Isaac, she’s just one girl.”

“You would be foolish to underestimate this unknown enemy. Besides the likelihood that the best of the Scars will be at her side, I don’t doubt that she will be a very skilled fighter in her own right.” Abby huffed. Isaac continued, “And if she’s anything like her predecessor, the greatest threat is in her words. Not her actions. I watched some of my most loyal soldiers abandon our cause for theirs after just one conversation with the one who came before her.”

At this, Abby raised her eyebrows, ready to argue. A look from Manny shut her up.

“We’ve only got one shot at this… And this is bigger than any of us.” Isaac pushed off the table, walking over to Abby and placing a hand on her arm. “I need you, Abby.”

She shifted uncomfortably before relenting, giving a curt nod. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Good.” He pulled away, heading toward the door. “Look over the plans and go through your rosters.”

“I want Owen,” she said. Abby thought Isaac could at least give her that.

When he denied her permission to go look for Owen, Abby went anyway.

----------------------------------------------------------------

March 2030 (8 Years Earlier)

The day of your scarring had been the first time Haven saw the sun in weeks.

Your mother said it was a sign. But your mother thought everything was a sign.

She told you that, no matter what, you were not to cry. That you, her only child, would not disgrace her by shedding tears during your ceremony.

You were to be brave. And strong.

The Prophet herself had ordained the act of scarring for all of her followers. A symbol of the innate imperfection of mankind. And so her people would never forget their own failings, even in the midst of their unending efforts towards perfection.

No one was meant to question the Prophet’s teachings, or the Elders who had taken on the responsibility of interpreting those teachings and carrying out Her will since Her death two years prior.

You could feel your mother’s breath against the back of your head as she huffed and decided that she was once again unsatisfied with your hair, roughly taking it down and beginning again for the fourth time.

While she worked, you sat still on the wooden stool in front of her and stared at yourself in the mirror, trying to memorize your features as they were now.

This was the last time you would see the face you knew. Next time you looked in the mirror, you would be different. Would you feel different?

You tried to picture yourself scarred, with two thin lines running from each of your ears to the corners of your mouth. Your eyes stung, tears threatening to fall at the thought.

But there would be no crying today.

Instead, you let your eyes wander to your mother’s reflection, hovering just behind and above yours in the mirror. You examined her face. Of course, you had never seen her without her scars, but you’d always thought your mother was beautiful.

Maybe the change in your appearance would not be so drastic. Maybe it was vain to care.

You were not supposed to be vain.

Once your mother was satisfied with the look of the braided crown of your hair, she gently placed her hands on your shoulders, meeting you gaze in the mirror.

“We are imperfect beings,” she recited. You joined your voice with hers for the second part, “And thus we make ourselves imperfect in Her eyes.”

She smiled softly, squeezing your arms lightly. “Good girl. I’m proud of you. I know you will do wonderfully today.” You tried to return her smile. “Now. Get dressed. I laid your clothes out on the bed.”

She turned to leave you, pausing in the doorway. “Remember what I said, child. No tears today. Do you understand?”

You nodded quickly. Obediently.

She seemed pleased as she left the room.

You changed quickly, wondering if she had been able to tell that you’d spent the whole night before crying. You hadn’t gotten a minute of sleep.

The stool squeaked as you sat back down, not sure what to do with yourself while you waited. You met your own eyes in the mirror once more, this time immediately averting your gaze. You felt sick. And close to tears. And so very scared.

On the other side of the door, you could hear Yara and her mom greeting your mother. The eight-year-old asked if she could come inside to see you. After just a moment of hesitation, your mother allowed it, and you could hear the slight creak of the door as she came in.

Yara said your name quietly, standing just inside the door. You turned to look at her. She smiled, happy to see you, just as always.

“Happy birthday!” she whispered excitedly, closing the distance between you and wrapping her arms around you tightly. You squeezed her back, holding her close for longer than usual. Yara, never one to be the first to break a hug, lingered for as long as you wanted her there.

You were neighbors, and your mothers had grown up together and had always been close. And although Yara was four years younger than you, the two of you were close too. She and five-year-old baby L were your siblings, as far as you were concerned.

Yara was mature for her age, even more so than most of your other friends. You knew you could trust her, so with her you were honest.

“I’m really scared,” you said quietly into her hair, still not releasing her from the embrace.

“I know,” she whispered back, squeezing you even tighter. “You’re the bravest person ever though. I know you can do this.”

You finally let go, retreating back to your stool, but Yara stayed close by, rubbing your shoulder comfortingly with one hand.

“She will be with you through this, and for all the days of your life,” she said, earnest. “Our pain is Her pain, and Her pain is ours.”

You couldn’t help but make a mental note of the fact that the Prophet actually did not receive the same scars as all of her followers, so perhaps this one specific pain is one that was not, in fact, shared between to two of you.

But Yara’s comment was made with a level of sincerity that you couldn’t help but admire—and borderline envied—so you chose to keep your thoughts to yourself.

Her presence was always a comfort, so you allowed yourself to relish in it for a quiet minute before your mother reentered the room.

“It’s time to leave,” she said simply. Firmly.

Behind her, just outside the door, you could see Yara’s mom standing there, holding a quiet but curious little L’s hand. They would all be walking over with you to witness the ceremony.

You forced yourself to stand, brushed your hands down your thighs as if to clear some nonexistent dust and smooth the phantom wrinkles. For a moment, you considered taking one last look in the mirror, but ultimately deciding against it. It would feel strange to do so, now that everyone was watching you and waiting.

For the briefest moment, you thought about making a run for it. Stealing a boat or even attempting to make the swim to the mainland. You could survive on your own, or maybe even join the Wolves. You weren’t scarred yet. You could lie about where you came from, and they would probably take you in…

The hiss of your name from your mother’s mouth ripped you back into reality, along with a gentle nudge from Yara.

You took a deep breath and started walking.

Once the home of the Prophet herself, Sanctuary was one of your people’s primary places of worship, second only to Martyr’s Gate on the mainland. (You had never seen it – You’d never left the island – so Sanctuary was where you most often prayed.)

Scarring ceremonies were held there, always on a child’s twelfth birthday.

You had witnessed many friends receive their scars. It was customary to attend the ceremonies of those close to you. Family, friends.

The process was always the same.

Elder Constance would lead all those gathered in a prayer, holding the ceremonial blade. You would recite a version of the Prophet’s Prayer. The blade would be blessed. Then Elder Duncan would make the incisions before welcoming you as an official member, a child of the Prophet.

It never took very long. Everyone had work to get back to, tasks to fulfill.

You would soon come to find that your ceremony would not be like any of those others.

The first indication of this was the sheer number of people who were gathered at Sanctuary. You had never seen this many people gathered in one place at one time, many of the faces you did not recognize.

As you approached the dais, the crowd silently parted for you, all eyes examining you carefully as if looking for something unseen. You couldn’t begin guess what it was.

You wanted to go home. You wanted to cry. To hold your mother’s hand. You wanted to not be here at all. Ever. For this to be a horrible nightmare.

Why were there so many people here?

Your eyes met Elder Constance’s. She was stiff and serious, as always, but there was a brightness in her eyes that you were not accustomed to seeing. A quick glance at Elder Duncan revealed a similar expression on his face.

The other five Elders also stood on the stage. Another thing that was unusual for a simple scarring ceremony.

Had you done something wrong? Were you in trouble?

You looked ahead, and your legs continued to carry you forward, despite your internal protestations.

When your feet were nearly touching the first step up, you stopped. And although your mind went blank, your body remembered what to do.

You bowed your head to each of the Elders, silently waiting to be greeted and invited onto the dais.

“Welcome, child, on this most joyous day!” Elder Constance’s voice boomed, carrying enough for everyone gathered to hear. “Come. Join us.”

You fought the urge to turn around and find your mother. You wanted to look at her face, to see if she knew what was happening.

But you knew that any moves you made in this moment other than exactly what was expected of you would be seen as hesitation, and therefore disgraceful. And you didn’t want your mother to be angry.

So you did as Elder Constance said, and you climbed the steps.

Your vision blurred. You tried to focus on your breathing.

“Two years ago, the ignoble Wolves took our beloved Prophet from us,” she began once you were standing center-stage. The reaction from the audience was instantaneous, full of outrage and despair. Elder Constance allowed this to continue for several moments before holding up her hand; and the noise stopped just a quickly as it began.

“But She is not dead! For the Prophet’s spirit cannot be killed by the evils of mankind.” The crowd hung on her every word as she continued, “She lives in all of us. In our actions and in our virtues. In Her teachings.”

“Here before you are all of your Elders, appointed to this honorable position by our Prophet, most wonderful and wise. She speaks to us, and it is our duty—our privilege—to share her words with you.”

“But today, She does not have words for us.” Elder Constance paused, the audience hushed, waiting for the reveal. “It is Her heavenly desire to give us a new source of hope. An advocate. A champion… A new Prophet.”

Elder Constance’s hands landed on your shoulders.

“Today, She has chosen Her successor.”

The crowd erupted in celebration.

You went completely numb and tuned them all out.

The Elders continued to speak, and the people continued to celebrate. All the while, your mind was reeling and your face was blank.

A new Prophet?

There can’t be a new Prophet.

What does that even mean?

There have never been any prophets except for THE Prophet.

And if there does need to be a new Prophet, why would it be you?

Why you?

It can’t be you.

If any of your questions were answered, you didn’t hear it above the ringing in your head.

Your attention was drawn to the blade that was now in Elder Constance’s hands, and you forced yourself to again begin to listen.

“…The Neo-Prophet will take on her full responsibilities when the time is right. But until then…” She continued on with familiar words, ones used in a typical scarring ceremony to bless the blade before it was used.

The knife was then passed down the line of Elders, each of them lifting it above their head and reciting the same words.

Your legs suddenly felt very weak.

Elder Duncan blessed the blade last and stepped forward, positioning himself just a couple feet away from you. You turned to him just as you knew you were supposed to.

This was the part in the ceremony when you would usually say a version of The Prophet’s Prayer. You weren’t sure if you were still meant to do that, given the circumstances, but you were operating solely on instincts now, so you began, “The world is not in balance, but I will do my part to right it.”

You weren’t speaking nearly as loud as the Elders had. You hoped you were loud enough. You hoped you were doing it right.

The pleased look on Elder Duncan’s face indicated that you had done well, but before you could go on with the next line, all of the Elders continued the prayer together:

“You will lead us through the storm May the current be calm May You guide us home.”

Their words had been slightly altered from the classic prayer, different than you would’ve said it if you had been given the chance. The strangest part was that they were speaking to you.

Almost like they were praying to you…

Elder Duncan took another step forward, gripping the knife.

You expected him to use his other hand to lift your face, to hold it at the best angle for the scarring. You’d seen him do the same to others many times before.

This was the part that you knew was coming. You had been at least attempting to prepare for it. You could handle it.

But you were thrown off once again when instead, he took your right wrist in his free hand and gently pressed your fingers down, making you form a fist. He then lifted your hand until it was by your ear, knuckles facing inward, arm bent at the elbow. His own hand gripped your elbow, holding your arm in place.

You were frozen, with no choice but to watch as the knife met the outside of your forearm and sank in. A slow, straight line was carved from the top of your wrist all the way to your elbow.

You didn’t look away. You didn’t cry. You did as you were told.

You wanted to go home.

“We are imperfect beings. And thus, we make ourselves imperfect in Your eyes.” Elder Duncan said, meeting your gaze. “It is for this reason that we proudly wear our scars on our faces.”

When his work was done, he released your right elbow and moved on to the left, lifting that arm into the same position. “But the Prophet, in Her kindness, bears the weight of our imperfections, carrying all of us in her arms. This is why You will wear your scars here.”

“Remember that You are part of us, but set apart.” The blade pierced the skin of your left forearm, and a twin incision was formed. “We look to You, Prophet. May She guide you. May She protect you.” With that, he took a step back, lowering the knife.

You slowly lowered your arms to your sides and turned back to face the enraptured crowd.

Finally, you found your mother among them.

And she was crying.

“My friends,” Elder Constance declared, gesticulating dramatically, “Your Prophet!”

The cheers were deafening.

As you scanned the masses, you felt the blood ooze down your arms and curl around your fingers, pooling on the ground by your feet.

You found Yara, who was somehow clapping and cheering more enthusiastically than anyone else. And then you saw L, held up on their mother’s hip, face concerned, eyes wide and wary.

At least someone was as skeptical as you were.

You wondered if you would get to go home now.

But Elder Constance placed her hands on your shoulders again, this time turning you and leading you in the opposite direction, into the Prophet’s grand house. Into Sanctuary.

There, servants’ gentle hands carefully cleaned your stinging wounds, took down and brushed out your hair, and helped you change into a new white dress.

You would never live in your mother’s house again.

And it would be eight years before anyone addressed you by your name.

#the wolf and the prophet #my writing #abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic #abby anderson x seraphite

178 notes · View notes

flokali · 1 year ago

Text

♢ Worship | Zhongli

Warnings: AFAB! Reader, Non/con -> Dub/con, Mind break (MC), Yandere, Cult AU, isekai, past violence towards MC, patronizing behavior towards MC, penetration, fingering, delusional behavior/thoughts from Zhongli, cum is everywhere, unprotected sex, dumbification (MC) (kind of), dirty talk, use of the c^nt, manipulation of MC, repetition, cock-drunk MC, desperate Zhongli, degradation towards MC (slut, liar, whore), implied exhibitionism, implied s.ex between MC and other Archons, unrealistic sex. Ask to tag!

Roles: Top! Dom! Zhongli | Bottom ! Reader

A/N: Here it is... it's definitely something new for me;; It's absolutely not for everyone and I am begging you to read the warnings, if this is too much for you do not read it! It's 100% fictional and falls under Dead Dove / Dark Content: it is not meant for anyone under the age of 18. Anon, ILY and you're the best... my beloved ! Took me forever to get this out, but here it is... yipe >_<

Word Count: 5.2k !

— Minors do NOT interact —

You were shunned away and hurt by those who you had once loved.

Already weak and alone, it was as if they took joy in seeing you despair, as if the way you crumbled around them was entertaining.

It hurts, oh Heavens above, you were miserable.

It wasn’t just physical, it was emotional and mental as well – every single weakness you possessed was exploited until you became a shell of yourself, your mind and body governed by fear and hatred and a need to survive, because you needed to survive. Even if it meant being reborn anew, you couldn’t let them win.

You couldn’t bring yourself to forget, it was all too painful, too cruel, too unjustified; they drove you to your limits and pushed you further until you broke. Until the person looking at you in the mirror looked like you, spoke like you, thought like you, but didn’t feel like you.

It’s why you couldn’t forgive the man standing in front of you, because deep down you knew he would have killed you if given the chance back then. You knew he held no regrets, that he’d do it all again to the next person who committed the crime of being deemed unworthy.

“I cannot,” your voice was assertive, or at least as assertive as you could muster in front of a God, “I… refuse to forgive you.”

“Please be reasonable,” Zhongli begs of you as he approaches you slowly, like a hunter would its prey, even if he claimed to think himself bellow you - you knew he held more power than you “we had no idea – I had no idea… if we’d known earlier, I swear upon Liyue Harbor itself, things would’ve been different.”

“And yet, time runs forwards,” you reply, slowly walking further away from the approaching man, or at least attempting to, but it was no use as he quickly makes his way closer to you, long legs and fit frame having no qualms in cornering you, “I have no use for ‘what if's’ or ‘could be’s’ - what is done is done, we have nothing to talk about, now let me leave because this is getting ridiculous.”

“My god is so stubborn,” he chuckles, acting as if your words meant little to him, something that greatly confused you - he spoke highly of you and yet seemed to think lowly of your person -, “I am afraid I don’t yet know if that’s something I like or not,” he mumbles that last part to himself before addressing you once more, “alas, I cannot let you leave until we reach a suitable agreement, your grace, you’re clearly not thinking clearly if you don’t see the multiple benefits that having me as your servant shall bring; with me by your side, you may as well be unstoppable.”

You scoff, a sense of disdain flows through your veins as you glare at him; you were slowly growing agitated by him and his presence, “First, you claim I’m your God and now you speak of me as an equal, as if I needed you - as if you had a right to speak to me at all -, what is it, Zhongli?”

He says nothing, his eyes take you in, you both know you’re cornered with nowhere to run, with you now completely at his mercy. It reminded you of the times he’d hunt you down with the intent to kill, if you were honest you much preferred the way he looked down at you back then than the current look in his eyes as he judged you with his eyes, as if assessing how worthy you were of his time albeit claiming servitude and humbleness before you.

“How utterly foolish, how… cute.” He chuckles, now only a mere inches away from your face. You hadn’t even noticed the stones he’d raised from the ground caging and forcing you into his proximity.

His hands, cold as they were, find their way to your cheeks. You attempt to swat his hand away but he’s simply too fast, quickly gathering both of your limbs and forcing them against his chest; the position was uncomfortable as you were forced to look up at his larger frame and feel his toned chest, a strange feeling was brewing in your lower region you desperately tried to ignore.

“Of course, you’re my God,” he says, his words serious, he spoke with such conviction it made your skin crawl, “and I’m your humble servant, which is why I am begging you to reconsider your opinion on not only myself but my people as well.”

“Absolutely not.” You accentuate your words, even if they come out a bit muffled from the way he gripped your face, to make your point loud and clear.

“Very well then, you leave me no choice,” he smiles and it sends a shiver down your spine because nothing good has ever come from someone smiling at you like that, “if you won’t let me worship you, then I’ll have to do it by force.”

His lips crash into yours but he makes no move to withdraw his hand from your cheeks, instead he uses it to press deeper into you - as if attempting to consume you whole.

You have no idea how long he’d been kissing you for, all you know is that his lips were devouring your own and that his tongue was battling with yours for control over your own mouth. The hand that grasped your wrist guided your hand to caress the archon’s chest, over his hardening nipples and around his pecs. There’s short intervals between kisses, but he doesn’t properly pull away until you’re begging for him to let you take in oxygen.

“Ah…” Zhongli finally pulls away to breathe, you’re in shock as you look at him, pure anger running through your veins, a complete contrast to the blissful look in his face as a blush overtakes his godly features, “You taste… divine.”

Ridiculous, Zhongli was being completely and utterly ridiculous! Making a joke, and a poor one at that, at a moment like this where he was doing this to you was incredulous. You wanted to scream at him, forcefully make him understand that you didn’t want him nor his sick worship and yet your body easily made way for him to slot his lips against yours once more as he parted them with a squeeze of your cheeks.

“Mhm~” You can’t help the moan that escapes your lips as you feel his tongue enter your mouth once more, “Ah, hmgh… humgh!”

Your back is flat against the wall, the Lord of Geo’s body effectively caging you in, and you have no choice but to part your legs as he places his knee between your own. You can barely breathe properly as he attacks your mouth, as if he’s making sure to explore it until he could map it out, his groping hand that had now left your cheeks and teasing touches don’t help at all as you feel yourself grow dizzy with unwanted arousal, a feeling shimmering in your pussy that has you unconsciously bucking your hips into his strong and firm limbs.

“You look so much better like this, Your grace,” he says as he takes a breather, his eyes – eyes you once adored back when you were home – glowed with arousal as he looked you up and down, “so quiet and docile, so obedient, it makes me want to eat you whole.”

“Rex Lapis! How dare you – ah, ha~ah!” You’re about to scold him and speak up when you break into yet another moan, you almost go cross-eyed as you feel his knee tease your neglected crotch; the cloth of his robes create a texture that feels heavenly against your hardening clit.

“Hmm? What is it, your highness?” He asks, feigning innocence as if he wasn’t the man responsible for your aroused state, “If you wish me to stop, speak up now before I get too, ah, excited.”

Zhongli once again doesn’t give you time to respond before he’s attacking your neck with fluttering kisses, “Come on, if you want me to stop,” he mumbled hungrily, it’s almost brutish the way he handles your body forcing jolts of arousal and pleasure to spark through your body, “say so.”

He’s challenging you to speak up, it’s as if he’s daring you to tell him to stop. He knows, the sick bastard knows that somewhere deep inside you - you still adore and want him, that a sick part of you wants to forgive him and be loved by him.

“Mora-ah~ !” You moan as he sucks at a particularly sensitive spot in your neck, his hands teasingly run across your thighs, caressing the skin in a seductive manner that has you trying to close your legs. Your core is slotted near his knee, where he can teasingly bump it up against it to give you momentary sparks of pleasure.

You want to scream at him to quit toying with you but you can’t formulate the words, not with the soft whimpers and groans you were letting out. He gives you a particularly strong bump, one where your clit — which was growing more sensitive by the second — and his clothed knee come into direct contact. You let out a particularly high pitched moan at that, the feel of his muscle against your lower lips simply intoxicating, that has Zhongli responding with a grunt of his own, something that sounded like your name rumbling from deep inside his throat.

“Such a slut for me,” he manages to get out, he’d been too busy teasing your skin with his teeth to comment on anything for a while, “such a good whore…”

It felt demeaning to be talked down to like that, especially by someone who claimed to wish to become your humble servant, but his words had a primal part of you beaming with satisfaction at being called good. You’re so taken aback by your own reaction you don’t notice him tugging at your robes and undergarments, not until he’s freed your cunt - allowing it to come in contact with the air.

“There we go,” he praises you, finally detaching himself from your neck, which was now littered with bruises and hickies, “your grace, I am truly honored… to be the first of your followers to make love to you…”

There’s a sick, almost delusional, look on his face as he breaks into a soft grin as he palmed your cunt, thick fingers gathering the slick that slowly poured out of your cute hole as it desperately tried grasping at anything.

His hand parts your legs further so he gains better access to your cunt, before he takes his free hand to properly caress your nerves. Slow and sensual movements against your clit and slit have you desperately bucking your hips to meet his fingers, he never inserts a full digit up your gummy walls instead opting to slowly work the opening by stretching your entrance and fingering you only up until his dip joint. Your arousal soon is leaking down your thighs and hitting the floor, making a mess of cum and love juice that would’ve made even the Devil blush, even the amount that escaped your soaking hole surprised, was it normal to be aroused enough to leak into the floor, you wondered.

“You’re ready,” you break out of the hazy mist of lust that clouded your mind as soon as you hear the man speak, “hah… I’ll… I’ll stick it in now, your grace… I’ll make sure to fill you up.”

“What…?” You manage to pant out, but he doesn’t answer you - instead he opts to free his hardened cock from beneath his clothes, a thick and long monster that sends a shiver down your spine as you questioned how he even thought someone could take it without hours of prep beforehand, and directs it towards your soaking entrance, “Z-Zhongli… don’t, please… you’re too big and… I’m not, I’m not ready… please, don’t… I’ll forgive you if you stop, stop! Just please, no… stop, I… I’m sorry, I…”

He pays your begging no mind as he slots his tip inside of your hole, which is enough to have you desperately clawing at his arms; “Hah, your highness… we - we’re becoming one…”

The Lord of Geo decides to ignore you, opting instead to slowly sink himself further into your gummy walls, even with the previous preparation and the slick you’d released your cunt was gasping in pain as you felt his thick dick enter your poor, tight pussy; before you knew it you were practically spasming around his length, awkwardly jolting and jumping as his cock slowly made its way past your tight muscles. The pleasant burn and torturous slow pace has you gasping and rolling your eyes towards the back of your head; he’s not even completely inside of you and you feel so… full. You don’t even want to imagine what it’d be like to have all of him inside you.

“Hah~ Hah,” you hear him pant beside your ear, his hot breath making you shiver, “you’re… tight…”

Your face is heating up at his words, it doesn’t help he’s slowly pressing himself deeper into your hole nor that he is slowly grinding himself against your walls in an attempt to ease your tense body.

“You’re t-too big…” You miraculously manage to get his hands off of you, “Fuck, get off… please… g-hgkh! ”

You trail off, too focused on the pleasure at hand to finish your thoughts. You didn’t want this, you didn’t want to have his dick inside you and yet your body sucked him in so greedily. You’re shaking and panting by the time he finally bottoms out, his balls hitting the fat of your ass with a soft thud that made your walls momentarily tighten at the lewd and erotic sound, it was too much and yet you were beginning to grow fond of the feeling of his cock bulging against your stomach.

Zhongli lets you sit on his dick for a while, allowing you to get accustomed to the feeling of fullness, probably trying to get used to the feeling of your warm walls encasing his dick, you try to pull him off you one last time but he doesn’t even budge, he’s too big, in retaliation, he gives a smooth roll of his hips that has his cock rubbing against every nook and cranny inside of you, including your special, spongy spot that had you seeing stars.

“U-ugh…” You let out a gurgle, you don’t want to admit it but the way his dick felt inside you had you seeing Celestia.

It’s the realization that he had no intention of letting you go un-fucked, and the shame of feeling aroused, that has you finally releasing the death grip you’d had on his arms, a sense of defeat and humiliation settled in your stomach; to preserve any reminder of your dignity it’s best you just let him use your hole like a toy. You’d denounce him, obviously, once the act was done and you’d have him sentenced, hopefully, to death for defiling you - that’s truly the only comfort you have.

It seems he takes your now compliant state as a go ahead to start moving. It’s painful at first, you’re overly aware of how his cock is moving inside of you and the feeling of pleasure is almost completely overshadowed by hatred and humiliation, your companion, however, seemed to be enjoying himself. You’re certain this whole event would be uncomfortable and unpleasant, you doubt you’ll even finish, or at least, you did until a particular thrust hit a particularly sensitive nerve that sent an aggressive wave of pleasure coursing through your veins, it’s blinding, it quite literally took your breath away as your brain struggled to process the unexpected yet erogenous sensation.

“S-shit!” You gasp, your whole body twitching. For a second, all thoughts left your mind, only a primal need to feel good again taking over as the wave rocked through your body, infiltrating every nerve and muscle, coursing through your brain as you desperately tried to prolong the almost intoxicating sensation. You don’t even realize how tightly your cunt is clutching his dick until he lets out a condescending, deep laugh.

“D-did you feel good, your highness?” His breath hits your ear and you suddenly feel overstimulated from your recent release and the feeling of his burning skin encasing you.

His words bring you back to reality and you have to restrain yourself from biting a chunk of his skin, you’re still trying to come back from your high, a high you desperately wanted to deny; “A-as if, hah, a monster-r such as yourself could pleasure me… f-fuck!”

“Is that a challenge, your grace,” he asks, golden eyes narrowing in amusement, , “if so,” he adjust your position, suddenly your legs are no long touching the floor as he’s taken them into his arms, his hands hold your knees so you can’t fall nor escape his brutal thrusts, you’re at his mercy, “I won't back down.”

That’s the start to an agonizing pace, one where he’d give deep, sensual thrust into your pussy - he’d start of slow, making sure you felt every vein and bump that made up his cock -, and then pick up the pace momentarily with short yet precise, rapid thrusts that had you bouncing in his arms like a rag doll.

“Do you like it, my beloved?” He lets out as he desperately tries to coax a confession of pleasure out of your lips, keenly aware of the way your insides became harder to exit the more aroused you were, “If, ha-ah, if I pleasure you like this everyday, you surely will forgive me, r-right?”

You’re too preoccupied with the way Zhongli’s hardened length rubbed a particular spot inside your walls that had your legs tensing helplessly in his grasp to answer; you could feel a ball of uncomfortable pleasure build up in your lower region that had you panting the more it grew.

Your thoughts were slipping away as the man lowered his hand to toy with your hardened clit, you felt like you were about to cum from that ministration alone but you helplessly try to stop yourself; you’re certain that if you cum even once you’d completely lose yourself, it was already hard enough not to beg for him to stop teasing you and fuck you properly as it was, and you’re certain that the minute your slick coats his dick, you won’t be able to stop yourself from begging to be fucked like an animal in heat. But it was so hard, so terribly hard, especially when he began kissing and teasing the hickies he’d previously painted over your body, the added feeling of your clit being rubbed as your cunt was being pounded into in different rhythms had you bucking your hips to meet his own - even a second without his cock inside of you was becoming unbearable, you… you needed his dick, you needed to feel good.

You wanted to sob from the frustration of the never ceasing pleasure that was building inside you, you wanted to cum so bad you were growing desperate, not even realizing your hips had begun moving on their own in an attempt to hurry up your release. You don’t think you’ve ever been so sexually frustrated, continuously growing restless as your head began clouding from pleasure.

It’s as if he was reading your mind because as soon as the thought hits you, he moves near your ear to moan in a low voice; “Go ahead, my love, cum for me… just know that if you do, I’ll take it as an invitation to become yours… Come on, make this dick yours, I… ha-ah… I know you want to.”

Wasn’t that so lovely? Wasn’t that such a wonderful agreement; in exchange for your slick, you would have one of the greatest cocks in the continent as your own personal servant!

Because it was what you deserved right? After all those months of pain and hurt, you deserved to feel good and be loved like you always were meant to be loved.

Zhongli notices your apprehension and he doesn’t blame you, but he was going to make things right; he had to, no matter what, no matter how, no matter what it takes, he will make it up to you. Even if it meant lowering himself from the status of Archon, even if he had to apologize and beg.

“I’m so sorry,” he begins mumbling into your skin as his cock keeps abusing your hole, he knows it’s an underhanded method but he doesn’t care, he meant every word he said - even if his way of showing his feelings was wrong, “you didn’t deserve any of it, no… y-you should be worshiped, you’re – fuck! You’re my savior, you’re everything to me, everything… I love you, I love you, I-I’m y-yours,” your cunt unwillingly clenches at that, “I-I’m yours to do as you please… you’re so good to me, so good… Come on, cum on me, use my cock… Allow me to repent for my actions, you will - won’t you?”

As one of his hands continues to rub your clit, the other supports your body weight, he doesn’t even seem to break a sweat as he holds you and fucks himself silly inside your tightening cunt.

There’s something about his desperate tone, the way he whines into your skin in between kisses and sucking, that has you believing his words; maybe he was regretful, maybe he did see what he did wrong, he was clearly trying to make it up for you by having sex with you, right? This was okay, right? He was sincere, you both knew he held a deep hatred for his actions, he’d been begging to see you ever since he’d learn of your true identity, he’d sent you gifts and offerings in an attempt to swing your favor; Rex Lapis didn’t do that for anyone, Zhongli didn’t do that for anyone.

He kept going on and on about how sorry he was, how desperate he was to feel you cum on his cock, how badly he wanted to serve you, how much you meant to him, how everything he ever did was for you; he loved you, he needed you, he wanted to be with you, he needed to be with you. His voice was growing raspy and whiny, a completely new side to the normally composed and cool Zhongli you were used to.

His words begin to seep into your brain, his admissions of guilt, his declarations of love, the way he begged you to take him as your own.

“I-I feel your pussy tighten,” he mumbles, “you’re so… you feel so good, mhm… I’ll be yours, I’ll make it up to you, everything – Please, s-shit, let me be yours, I want to be yours, allow me to serve you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“Zh-zhongli…”

“Your grace,” he moans and you can feel the way his body shudders as you whimper his name, “I’ll do anything for you, please - please, ha~ah?! Make me yours, let’s cum together, please, I want to cum inside you, I want you to come… If I make you cum, you’ll let me serve you, right? M-my lord, mine, mine… I’ll claim you as mine, my own god, only m-mine, mhm-mmph… I’ll make it up to you, you’ll be mine, you’ll love me, you’ll love me-ah, we’ll do this e-everyday a-and you’ll be mine, hah~”

You felt the last of yourself break as the words he whispered made your cunt squirt all over the Archon, the one who’d hunted you for sport, made your life a living hell, who’d offered his body and power as an apology; he now stood with his hips and pelvis covered in your cum.

“C-cumming! Ah, ah-hah… I’m cumming, ‘m cumming, shit! I’m cumming on your c-cock! Hah, hah… ah~ah, ghk-k!”!

Yet you couldn’t stop, your poor pussy kept leaking as you convulsed from the intensity. It didn’t help that Zhongli made a point of pressing himself as deeply as he could inside of your pussy, as if trying to penetrate your womb with the tip of cock.

It’s as if your body had been lit on fire, your body twitches and turns as you gush all over the floor, it’s an electrifying feeling as you give up control and succumb to pleasure.

Cock, you were cumming on Zhongli’s cock, on the man who wanted you dead only a few weeks ago, you were on his cock, his cock was inside you, your cum was coating his cock - the cock that was humping your pussy, the man who was groping you, the one who’s threatened to kill you. You could only think about his cock, the big, long, thick, fat cock that had you drooling over yourself. You didn’t know what was leaking out of your pussy, it kept coming and coming out, coating the Archon’s lower half with your love juices - your legs hurt as you tensed and twitched and your nipples and clit all felt painfully hard.

It takes you a few seconds to stop cumming and yet, even as you were held in his arms panting from the feeling, you weren’t tired – in fact, you don’t think you’d ever felt better.

It seemed the man balls deep inside of you was feeling the same way for it doesn’t even take him more than a minute to start bouncing your limp body on his cock once more.

“More… I want more, more, wanna… wanna cum again.” You’re too out of it to realize you were speaking your thoughts, too desperate and drunk on the feeling of sex and the pleasure it was bringing you to feel shame.

Even though your body felt heavy as lead, you weakly try to match the rhythm set by Zhongli with your hips, desperately searching for the pleasure he’d given you minutes before.

If you’d been looking at his face, you would have been able to see the look of surprise that washed over his handsome features; was this really you? Had it truly only taken you a good fuck to temper you out? His golden eyes seem to glow brighter as his excitement grows, his dick somehow hardening even more albeit still being inside of your warmth. He takes it as a sign to adjust your body one more time, taking you in his arms once more and allowing him to bounce you on his cock like a toy.

You’re too sex-brained to fully comprehend what was going on, only truly thinking with your cunt - desperate to feel the white ball of pleasure explode inside of you once more and to feel Zhongli coat your insides with his cum.

“Ha-ah, Zhongli,” you whine, your voice comes out airy and unsteady as your whole body bounces on his dick, “p-please… c-cum inside me! ‘Wanna feel your cum inside my pussy, pl- fuck! Ah, ah - feels good, your cock feels so good! ‘m gonna cum again, wanna cum with you… hah, hah, l-let’s cum together…!”

You can feel his breath hit your neck as he nuzzles into into your shoulder, an airy chuckle soon followed by teasing words;

“I-I, hmm… I thought you’d never f-feel pleasure from a monster such as myself,” his voice is raspy as if he were barely containing himself, “my grace is such a g-greedy liar…”

As if to prove his point he gives you a particularly rough thrust, one that has you seeing black as your eyes roll back from the pleasure.

“P-please… I want your cum inside of me, ghk! Want your cum, wanna feel your cum on my pussy, wanna be your… your, wanna…! Fuck, you feel s-sho’ good, so go~oh~od, aha, ahhhh…!?”

“Don’t worry, my beloved,” he breathes out, hurrying the pace of his hips, he never fully removes his cock from you, instead opting for shallow thrusts that are aided by the length and girth he possesses, “my only wish… is to serve you.”

You can’t even respond as one hand comes to massage your breast and the other lowers itself to play with your clit, the added ministrations have you panting and desperately grinding yourself against the Archon; your body felt like it was on fire from the heat that bloomed from where your two bodies became one.

“‘M close, ‘m gonna cum inside you.”

Those are the only words you have to brace yourself before hot, sticky cum is shot inside your aching body, painting your pink insides white with his depraved love. He doesn’t say anything, his own brain seemingly turned into mush, only capable of low groans and moans that border on animalistic while he made sure to press himself as deep as he humanly could, making sure that not a drop of the cum you’d asked for escaped your greedy hole.

As he rides off his high, emptying his balls inside of you as he softly rocked your body, you can feel your sex clench and slick begin to ooze out of your cute hole. He notices it, and begins rubbing your clit in an attempt to coax you into cumming for him. His finger feels heavenly as he rubs it in quick, fluid motions across your clit and vulva, the cum from your previous release and the overflowing left overs from his own aid you as your feet begin to curl and a ball of pleasure that had been growing inside your lower half finally explodes and you cum one more time on Zhongli’s cock.

Albeit not nearly as sudden nor shocking as the first one, you’re still left a twitchy and aching mess as your legs fall limp in your captor’s arms.

But after tonight, your brain could hardly process him as a threat, everything before the second he’d inserted his dick inside you felt like a distant nightmare, the man who now cradled your body was no longer your enemy - not now, not to you. Your eyelids feel heavy and you’re beginning to doze off as you feel a sloppy kiss be left on your cheek, you look up at Zhongli for the first time since he’d started to fuck you.

His pale skin is burning pink, sweat rolls off his handsome features, his lips look rosy pink and you can see faint bites on them from when he desperately contained his moans, he looked nothing like the God who’d terrorized you previously; his eyes were the easiest give away, however, where they once were full with hatred and disgust, they now shined with passion and servitude.

In his mind, he’d earned your forgiveness, the debauched act of taking you against your will was his last ditch attempt at making things right, and so from today onwards, in his perturbed mind, he was officially your first follower in the continent of Teyvat and most devout worshiper.

“Mhm…” A smile blooms on his lips as he squeezes your ass, the geo wall vanished and you’re left clinging to Zhongli as he adjusts his cock inside of you, the soft movement has you jumping from overstimulation, your sex drunk look endears the Archon as he duly noted his guests’ footsteps approaching, “let’s show them how to properly serve you, shall we?”’

1K notes · View notes

gildedneon · 2 months ago

Text

That Which I Cannot See

That Which I Cannot See - Part 1 - Pure Imagination

Respectfully, you may not use my work, but you are welcome to share it. My work is only intended for those 18 and older as it contains explicit adult themes.

Summary: Basically A Star is Born but make it Sleep Token. A video of you singing Take Me Back to Eden gets attention online and you're invited to sing backup vocals at their next concert. Only, you end up doing a lot more than just that. The first in what will be at least a 3 part series.

Pairing: Vessel x Fem!Reader

Tags: Hand stuff (for now), mask play, concealed identity play, obscured vision/partial blindfolding, is this a musical now?, shower play with the lights off, monster kink? if you squint?, spiritual cult leader Vessel, dirty talk.

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: I enjoy candlelit showers while blasting Sleep Token and inspiration struck one day while listening to Take Me Back to Eden. What if? So I wrote it. I have already planned out a part 2 & 3, so fear not, our journey has just begun.

Read on Ao3

-------------

So there I was, doom scrolling Instagram when *ping*

“Sleep_Token: We loved your video” My brows furrow. That can’t actually be their official account. Tapping the notification, I switch to my finsta, where I post anonymous videos of myself singing. I recently shared a clip of an acoustic cover of Take Me Back to Eden that got a decent amount of attention, but I didn’t think it got that much attention. The message thread opens just as another is coming in.

“Sleep_Token: How would you feel about joining us sometime?” What the hell?

I click their profile. Blue check mark. Holy shit. Shock has me so caught up I can’t even think of a clever response. Or any response for that matter.

What does ‘joining us' mean? Like for an orgy or going to a show? Because I’m down for both, but I only have tickets for one of those things. At least my brain is still cracking jokes. I stare at my phone and figure out something to say.

“Hi! Thanks! I actually will be at the show this Friday. I can’t wait :)” My heart does a little somersault as I hit send.

“Sleep_Token: Perfect. Our manager will reach out for details. Bring something black to wear. We’ve got the rest covered!”

What the fuck does that mean? Reaching out for details for what? What is ‘the rest’ and how is it ‘covered’???

*ping*

The DM from the manager comes in.

On auto-pilot, I go back and forth with the manager. Realization sets in… I’m going to be backstage at the Sleep Token show. I’m going to meet the Espera and sing with them. On stage. At the Sleep Token show. Friday. In less than a week. What the fuck.

Four days… I have four days to perfect my outfit. Immediately, I FaceTime my best friend. She answers on the second ring.

“Callie… you’re never gonna believe this.”

“Alright??… spill bitch”

-------------

My stride lengthens to keep up with the woman leading me through bright lit hallways. The week had flown by in a blur. Now it’s Friday and I’m being led backstage in sweats and a tank. I hadn’t fully wrapped my head around their invitation. But what I really hadn’t wrapped my head around was what had been developing since that night. Once I had gotten off the phone with Callie, I saw I had a DM request from a username I didn’t recognize.

“Hey it’s V” I think my brain had short circuited. It all felt like it came out of nowhere. I guess that’s the thing about change, it doesn’t happen until it just… does. We had started chatting and it continued throughout the week, getting to know each other a bit, what we enjoy, what we don’t, our favorite colors, and even a bit of flirting. Another strange development in a situation that materialized all too quickly. But it was exciting. It has been a while since I’ve been truly excited about something or …someone.

I think it helps that we don’t really know each other. Our identities are a secret. It’s sort of like getting to know the contents of a box without getting to know the box, if that makes sense. It’s hard to explain, but I like it. Being myself comes easier this way. There are less distractions.

My guide comes to a stop and knocks on a door. Anticipation grips me as it opens, a woman dressed in black greets us with a smile on her face.

“Come on in! We’re excited to meet you.” The Espera, or the three female background vocalists, usher me into the dressing room and to a spot in front of the mirror. Their welcoming energy helps quell my buzzing thoughts. We fall into easy conversation as I work on my hair and makeup. The dress I chose is sexy but functional. Thin straps, square neckline dipping in a quick plunge, finished off with a thigh high slit. My hair tumbles around my shoulders and down my back in a lion’s mane of waves. My lips are painted the darkest shade of red, the only real part of my face that will be seen from behind the gold mask that lays on the counter before me.

The Espera give me a crash course in backup vocals. No pressure, just last minute winging it in front of 13,000 people. I still can’t wrap my head around this, even as they help fit the mask to my face. It looks just like theirs, intricate bronze scrollwork curling down my cheeks, leaving only my mouth and jaw exposed. The mesh panels over the eyes allow me to make out shapes and light. So I can see plenty, but it doesn’t feel that way. For me, I might as well be blind. It��s the feeling of being out of control, a vulnerability that leaves me a bit raw and on edge.

A knock raps at the door and my ears grasp at every little sound, attempting to make up for my lack of sight. The women gather as it clicks open. Their blurry forms disappear to the sounds of scuffling shoes. The door closes. My blurred vision watches as a dark figure slowly makes its way across the mirrored space. Fully blind I would know it was him. The magnetism of his presence is threatening to drag me in like the gravity of a blackhole. It’s supermassive…

I hold my breath as he surveys me. It would be a lie to say that I am not intimidated under his gaze. Despite the disguise, the feeling of vulnerability remains.

“This suits you. How does it feel?” He purrs his approval. The tension in my chest eases.

“Thank you. How does what feel?”

“Your transformation.”

“Transformation? Into what?” My breath hitches, I can see his dark figure looming behind me.

“Your true self.”

“I’m not really sure what you mean by that. As excited as I am, I am also a little nervous.”

“What are you nervous about?”

“I’m not sure if it’s one specific thing. I just don’t know what to expect. I’ve never done this before. I know I’m wearing a mask but it still feels scary to have people actually watching me. This is worlds away from posting anonymous videos online.”

“I can understand. For us, the disguises are about showing the parts of ourselves that do not feel comfortable in our daily lives. Whether that is because we feel they should be hidden or we lack a suitable outlet. So it’s really not a disguise at all, but a revelation. By wearing this mask, I take off the invisible one I wear everyday. I embody the aspects of myself that I wouldn’t otherwise. So ask yourself… What would that feel like for you? Who would you allow yourself to be if you knew you were free from judgement?”

“I think it would feel freeing. But how am I supposed to figure that out tonight?”

“A lot can happen in just one night.”

Unsure of what to say, I sigh and tilt my head. A gentle tap on the side of my mask is his response. I stare straight ahead, looking upon our blurry reflections in the mirror.

“Envision yourself right now. A different version of you, a fantasy. Who could you be? How would you carry yourself? What presence do you bring? Take a minute. Close your eyes if you need. Think of the answer and then feel it. Become it. This is the transformation. It is first in your mind and then, in your being.”

I take a breath, close my eyes, and do as he says. I see the masked version of me, painted with black, a version of me that no one knows. Not even myself. She can be anything. I can be anything. This essence blossoms in my bones, radiating until it anchors itself into my being. Excitement ripples under my skin. I open my eyes.

“How does it feel?”

“It feels… different. I see myself but also… more.”

Vessel tilts his head.

“I saw paint. On my neck and it ran down.” Skimming my hands over my arms to illustrate my point.

“Stand.” I pray my knees don’t give out as I follow his command.. His proximity sends little electric waves skating along my skin.

“You know it’s true what they say. Depriving one sense, heightens the others. Close your eyes.”

I do as he says. Anticipation coursing through me.

“Touch, for example.”

His hands skate up my arms, over my bare shoulders to my neck. His fingers stroke along my skin, pressing into the muscles and working at the tension. Other parts of me start to crave the same and the weight of arousal settles between my thighs. I exhale a sigh. His fingertips play along my skin, alighting little sparks. Just as I’m being lulled into a daze, he stops. Moving away from me, he leans against the counter, silently staring. The vulnerability isn’t as uncomfortable now. Security has replaced whatever fear I felt before. He reaches for something on the counter.

“May I? I have an idea for you with this paint.”

“You may.” I tease lightly and I hear the sound of spinning plastic.

The light of the room is dimmed as he steps closer. Both hands come around my neck and fear takes root in an instant. What am I doing? I’m alone with a man who is dressed like a demon god, his hands are wrapped around my throat, and we are in a room where no one can hear me scream…probably. Oh no…. Should I be worried about how that turned me on?

Instead of squeezing the air from my lungs, he works the paint onto my skin. His fingers splay as he drags his hands down both sides of my neck. His fingernails scrape over my collarbones, stopping just before the neckline of my dress. My eyes fall closed and I can’t help the sigh that escapes or the shudder that runs through my body. Nor can I help imagining what it would feel like to have his hands on my thighs. Leaving a sinful trail of evidence, as he explored more sensual areas of my body. Circling behind me, his hands clasp my arms, leaving one last mark.

“Look at yourself.” His deep voice jarring me from my haze. Even with my obscured vision, I can clearly see the twin trails of black that drag down my neck, stopping just before my breasts and the stark handprints on my upper arms.

“It looks like I’ve been marked by a monster.” I say, amusement clear in my tone.

Silence. A brief moment of tension, then his hand wraps around my throat. He leans closer to me.

“Are you calling me a monster?” His teasing is mixed with tones of darkness. I shudder at the thrill.

“No. Monsters are scary and I’m not scared of you” …Yet

“Do you want to be scared of me?” His voice is low in my ear.

“Maybe a little” Maybe more than a little.

I see his head tilt in the mirror. I can’t see his eyes but I feel them flaying me alive, gleaning every dark desire snaking through my body. He releases me, putting a bit more distance between us.

“As much as I would love to explore that, it’s about time we get ready to go on. You’ll be brilliant. If you get nervous just remember my touch and how it’s plain for everyone to see.” I could feel him wink at me as he said that. It wasn’t the worst suggestion. That would certainly distract my thoughts from wandering into anxiety, but it would distract me in other ways. Blushing, I step through the door he holds for me, and follow him down the hall.

-------------

Like a cutscene in a movie, suddenly I’m on stage and the show is taking off. The lights and sounds are overwhelming. I allow myself a few minutes to adjust. Slowly, I begin to pick up the swaying movements from the Espera. Taking cues from their hazy shapes. Then, I allow my voice to softly join theirs. The flashing mass of screaming fans mere feet away is difficult to tune out, but I let them blur into shapes through my mask and my voice rises to the music. With each song they play, my confidence grows, and I feel that vision of myself, from the dressing room, coming to life.

Well, I know what you want from me

You want someone to be your reflection, your bitter deception

Setting you free, so you take what you want and leave

Excitement strikes like lightning. Of course I knew this song was coming, but being a part of it? Dancing while every instrument reverberates through my body?

Won’t you come and dance in the dark with me?

Tapping into that sensual side of me, I allow it to take form, my hips swaying to the rhythm. I trail my fingertips over my body, and pleasure ripples behind my touch. Hearing whispers of my voice wafting through the background is unreal.

Lipstick, chemtrails, red flags, pink nails

I once made a comment to Callie about how I fantasize about being in an orgy while this song plays because it never fails to turn me on. The way the beat builds and morphs, the lyrics on top of that, it feels like seduction. My voice vibrates through my being, sparking a dark desire that flares with the melody. My eyes fall shut as I remember our time together in the dressing room. I feel his phantom touch along my skin and surrender myself to the sensations.

You make me wish I could disappear

The music dies down, somber notes begin to rise. Recognition flutters in my heart. This is the song that first drew my attention to him… and his attention to me. My eyes snap open on instinct, despite my obstructed view, I see a dark figure approach me, blocking out the crowd. My heart begins to race. I tilt my masked face up at his towering form. He grabs my hand and leads me from behind my place in the background. There we are, front and center. I have no idea what he is doing or what he expects of me. My blood roars through my ears, beating against the tense curiosity of the all too quiet crowd. Curious cheers ring out, but my focus is drawn to him.

I dream in phosphorescence

Bleed through spaces

My nails scrape restlessly against the fabric of my dress. I have no idea what he wants from me. We never talked about this. Am I just supposed to stand here? Am I supposed to sing a specific part or harmony? My thoughts race as panic begins to sink its claws into me.

His finger curls under my chin. The gentle weight of him pulls me from the quicksand of my mind.

I’m transfixed as he sings to me.

My, my those eyes like fire I’m a winged insect you’re a funeral pyre.

A calm intensity settles in as I focus on the figure before me. Like a siren song his entire being draws me in until there is no one else. No crowd. Not even the band. Just him and me.

The music begins to build. I feel it in my chest. His hand lightly strokes my chin in invitation. The energy builds in my stomach and moves up my throat. God, it feels like it’s going to burst out of me. So I close my eyes and let it.

I will travel far beyond the path of reason. Take me back to Eden. Take me back to Eden

Our melody turns into harmonious wails.

Take me back to Edeeeennn

My eyes open to a flash of white teeth as he grins down at me, the music continuing its heavy intensity. That grin against his mask and paint, looks every bit like the monster I mentioned. The music drops into a quiet tempo and he steps closer, leaning in as his hood brushes my cheek.

“Stay.” He commands, before sauntering off, just as three chords are played.

Well yeah I spit blood when I wake up

He crouches towards the swarming crowd as he recites the lines. Waving hands and screaming smiles line the front of the crowd. As I watch him move across the stage, I remember his painted marks on my skin. My cheeks burn as he approaches me again.

I need you to see me for what I have become

Long fingers wrap around mine, bringing my hand to grasp the microphone, joining him for the chorus.

My, my those eyes like fire

My voice is a sweet backdrop contrasting his, as we sing together until the beat drops off. The hand folded atop mine loosens, his arm falling slack and I let go of the mic. His free hand sneaks through my hair, cradling my head in his hand. The sounds of birds chirping flit around the notes of the piano. This intimate moment sets me ablaze as I remember there are thousands of people watching. Jealousy licks at my sides from the scrutiny of their gaze. I pay them no mind.

His hands fall from my hair, as he lifts the mic, but sings to me.

I guess it goes to show does it not

That we’ve no idea what we’ve got until we lose it

His words resonate through my chest. Understanding the opportunity tonight presents, I want to make the most of this night, of this connection, and just enjoy whatever is to come.

No amount of self-sought fury will bring back the glory of innocence

Sound pours from me as I join him singing once again. The music sweeps me along and I ascend with it.

We were tangled up like branches in a flood

What happens next takes me by surprise. Vessel loops an arm around my waist, drawing me in until my dress brushes against his belt. He screams the ending lines with such intensity I feel as if I’m being hit by a hurricane. I can barely make out what he’s saying. My heart seizes with another little thrill of fear. All I see is the fierce glint of teeth through the contortions of his mouth as the music fades out.

Piano keys begin to play, as he leads me back to my place among the Espera. This is the last song of the show, Euclid. What a beautiful note to end on. I channel all the joy in my little heart into singing this final song. I know maybe the lyrics aren’t the happiest but I can’t help but feel light while singing it. Our voices fade out, as he brings things to a close.

The whites of your eyes, turn black in the lowlight

So give me the night, the night, the night…

-------------

We stopped by the dressing room long enough for me to grab my belongings and then he was leading me through more hallways. He holds a door open for me and I step into a gaudy locker room. Leading the way, I follow him through the space and into a long room. The harsh fluorescence glares off of the white tile lining the walls. On the left, is a mirrored wall of sinks and who knows what else. On the right, benches border each door frame, opening into showers.

We walk a few stalls down, I hang my tote and arrange my clothes on the bench as he wanders away. Pulling out a hair tie, I twist my hair up into a messy bun. Butterflies twist through my belly as he returns to my side, hanging a towel on my hook. We’ve shared this entire night, this entire week, without seeing each other’s face, perhaps we’ve seen a deeper truth. Either way, I’m not ready for it to end.

Inspiration strikes and I stride back to the main door and begin to flick the lights off one by one until all that is left is the glow of the adjoining locker room. His masked face tilts as his attention focuses on me. Grabbing the door handle, I pull it closed behind me until only a necessary sliver of light shines through. Giving my eyes a second to adjust, I carefully make my way back to my bench. I feel another thrill of excitement at the atmosphere. The near pitch black, the silence all around us, almost like something you’d see in a scary movie. I hear clothes rustling from the bench he is at. I’m still working on undoing the straps of my heels when I hear the harsh splash of water against tile. Once all of my outfit has made it into my tote, I take cautious steps into the awaiting shower.

“I wanted to keep the mystery going but maybe it’s a bit too dark.” So dark, that I can barely make out the other person in my proximity. My hands feel along the cool tiles for support.

“Give it a minute. Your eyes will adjust.” He’s calm. Still. Giving me space to acclimate. No longer clutching at the wall, I can make out the shape of him easier. Barely, I see the steam from the water and pumps of soap attached to the wall.

“Will they adjust enough to be able to tell the difference between which is the soap and which is the conditioner?” I tease.

“Hmm might have to go with good ole trial and error on that” Our laughter echoes against the walls.

Stepping closer, I let my gaze wander. The lines of his muscles catch what little light there is. My breath hitches, the difference in our height is exaggerated now that I am barefoot. The way he looms over me keeps his face masked in shadow. Again, the thrill of being alone with this strange, dark god shivers through me, bringing my awareness back to the arousal that has been burning all night.

“Well I will gladly volunteer as the test subject.”

“And I will gladly accept. I didn’t want to assume…”

“I would actually prefer if you do assume.” I step closer to him. Even in the pitch black I can see his head tilt down at me.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”

“I did. I’ve never experienced anything like it.” I say almost reverently.

“Shall we keep the experience going then?” A shiver runs through my body

“Yes.” I breathe..

“Sing for me?” My brows jump up. Posting videos of me singing alone in my house and singing background vocals could not prepare me for this.

“What do you want me to sing?”

“Anything” My mind goes blank all for one song. I take a deep breath to still my nerves.

Come with me, and you’ll be, in a world of pure imagination

Tentatively, I recite the words.

Take a look and you’ll see

Into your imagination

There is no life I know

To compare with pure imagination

His voice joins mine.

Living there, you’ll be free

I stop, allowing him to finish the verse

If you truly wish to be

Courage is easier found in the dark I realize, when my hands begin to trail along his chest and I continue singing.

If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it

Anything you want to, do it

My long nails gently scrape across his abs as his fingers trace the black paint along my chest.

“What a mess I’ve made.” The timbre of his voice sends desire rushing through me. Reaching back, he grabs something from one of the dispensers and lathers his hands. The creamy substance spreads down my shoulders as he begins to work out the tension in my muscles. His hands began to slip down to above my breasts. Working in slow circles. The combination of excitement and desire keeps my mind sharp despite the haze of lust. His thumbs swipe across my skin with a delicious pressure. Grasping the tops of my arms, he leans towards me and my lips hum in anticipation. His mouth grazes past my cheek.

“I think… this is conditioner” He murmurs in my ear. I can’t help the surprised giggle that escapes me. I can feel his amusement even as he turns from me. The muted clicks of the dispenser can be heard over the shower stream. When he faces me again, the energy shifts. A thrill runs through me as he grabs the back of my neck with one hand.

“May I?” He echoes the familiar words he spoke earlier in the night.

“You may.” I breathe and his lathered hand begins running down my neck, as his other creeps up into my hair. My head tilts back. The glow from the distant light flashes off his sharp grin. His hand moves lower down my chest, as he works at the paint there. I’m not sure which is more arousing. Him painting me or washing it off. My nipples harden and a dull throb settles between my thighs just as his large hand sweeps over my breast. His fingers capture my nipple, flexing and rolling against my soft skin. I exhale shakily as he moves on to the other, giving it the same treatment. Grabbing my hips, he pulls me into the water, washing away his claim, his touch laying stake to a new one. Then he flips me around, I catch myself on the cool tile wall. As he steps closer, I can feel him pressed against me.

“I very much enjoyed having my mark on you, clear for everyone to see.” His voice is low against my ear, as his lips drag over my neck, gently nipping at my skin. The hand on my right hip slides down my thigh. My legs tense in anticipation. His fingers begin swiping in teasing strokes, closer and closer to where I burn for his touch.

“Tell me, what has you so wet for me?” I let out a whimper as his fingertips slide through the evidence of his claim.

“Was it on stage? When I whispered in your ear?” Stay. I shook my head. That definitely turned me on but it wasn’t where it started. The memory of us in the dressing room, with his hands around my neck flickers through my mind. Just that quick thought stokes the already well fanned flames of arousal.

“Before the show in the dressing room” I say and receive a hum of approval. I’m rewarded as his finger dips inside me ever so slightly. His strokes are shallow, only increasing my need for him.

“What about it?” His fingers slow, urging me to respond. It’s hard to think through the fog of my desire.

“When you painted my neck.” Relief washes over me as he picks up his still too slow pace. His left hand moves from my hip, trailing over my fluttering stomach, paying brief attention to my breast, before sliding around my throat. My thighs clench around his hand before I can help myself, my body vibrating with anticipation.

“Ah so this is what you like?” His grip tightens as he speaks and my hips rock back desperate for more than this teasing. All I accomplish is grinding my ass against his cock. He inhales sharply but presses himself fully against me.

“So eager.” He laughs. “Is this what you’ve wanted?” His fingers still move at a languid pace, but curl deeper inside me.

“Yes” I nod enthusiastically.

“But it’s not enough is it?” I shake my head. Because despite the pleasure I felt, the need was greater. The need to feel more of him, to have more of him. He obliges, sliding in a second finger. I cry out, my cheeks heat from embarrassment at the echo. I press my lips together, stifling my moans. His fingers still. He leans forward, his chest against my back, pressing me into the wall.

“Don’t stop singing for me now” He purrs and the rumble in his chest vibrates through my own.

“It’s just you and me. There’s no one else.”

I exhale heavily as my mouth parts. Right away, he rewards me with deliberate strokes of his fingers. The hand around my neck lazily works at the muscles there and waves of ecstasy shoot through me. My nails catch on the grout between the tiles as pleasure begins to coil tight in my muscles. I’m lost in the way my moans reverberate around us as his thumb carefully starts working my clit. It’s consuming. The stretch of his fingers, dragging over every sensitive spot inside me, playing my body like an instrument. His hips roll against my backside, grinding against me. I can feel the hard length of him, thick and hot against me. I begin to crave more and the thought alone of feeling all of him inside me brings me towards the peak.

“Someday I will have all of you and you will have all of me. Until then I will have the memory of how wet and tight you are around my fingers. Wishing you were wrapped around my cock instead.” My hips rocked, practically riding his hand as the pleasure ramping up inside me spun so tight I felt it would snap at any moment. “Every time I look at my hand I want to remember how it felt to have you come on my fingers.” A ragged cry left my throat as his words pushed me over the edge. The tension inside me broke. Shattered shards of pleasure sliced through me as my body shook. His hand slipped out of me and I felt him work himself against my ass. Tremors skittered through me as I began to come down from my high. The cooling fire in my core alighting anew at the knowledge that he would soon follow. The hand around my neck had slid to brace himself against the wall.

“I want to feel you claim me again.” Shortly after those words left my mouth, I heard him groan. He shuddered against me as I felt hot spurts of him against my hip and back. His cheek came to rest against the top of my head. We stayed pressed against the wall as our breathing and heart rates slowed.

“Well I’m afraid I’ve made a bigger mess than when we started.” My body vibrates against his as I laugh. He pulls me back to the water and gets to work cleaning me off.

“Ves. Thank you, for tonight.” The nickname felt a bit strange on my tongue but appropriate given the standing of our relationship now.

“The pleasure was mine. Thank you for joining us and thank you for indulging me.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“I’m flattered… We will see each other again, you know.” Now it’s my turn to tilt my head at his words.

“Will we?” The possibility hadn’t even crossed my mind. Everything happened so fast.

“If you would like… There is still so much left to explore.” Even in my sated state, the purr of his words spark arousal.

“Oh I think I would like that very much.” Tension crackles between us. God if I don’t get out of here I’m going to be in over my head. Exhaustion was starting to creep into my bones.

“I think it’s past my bedtime.” I say with a yawn. That gets a little laugh out of him.

“Well you run along home before I’m inclined to drag you back into this cave and never let you go.” Again, he’s teasing, but the edge in his voice promises something darker. “Or someone comes looking for us and turns all those awful lights on.” His hands grip my shoulders as he leans down and plants a kiss on the top of my head. “We wouldn’t want to ruin the mystery.”

“We sure wouldn’t” Reluctantly, I walk away. I dry off the lingering evidence of what just occurred between us, slip into my clothes, and return to the harsh light of reality.

#my writing #my work #sleep token fanfic #sleep token fic #vessel fanfic #vessel smut #sleep token smut #vessel x reader #sleep token x reader #gildedneon writes

86 notes · View notes

emjiroki · 1 year ago

Text

Vampire Cult Leader Geto Suguru x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: sacrifice, blood drinking, hypnosis, predator/prey dynamics, death (not reader or geto), venom as an aphrodisiac, pet names with a little degradation (pet, little lamb), dubcon (it will be tagged appropriately multiple times)

A/N: Happy Halloween Ghouls and Goblins! What's more perfect to celebrate wrapping up this spooky season than with a Vampire Geto fic? I hope everyone enjoys and has a safe holiday!

Likes, comments, reblogs, and tags are appreciated and treasured

‘Why is it so cold? Where are they taking me? Why am I in only a thin sheet?’ all of these questions swarmed through your mind as whoever it was had their freezing hands around your wrists just over the leather they had used to tie them. They kept growling to “Keep moving”, your feet shuffling cautiously across the cold concrete.

You couldn't see who they were due to the cloth tied across your vision but they would shove you if you stopped moving or stumbled, sending you to the ground before dragging you back up harshly from the floor. With the adrenaline coursing through you, it felt as if your blood should be cold; not hot as it oozed from the scrapes across your knees.

A rush of air from an opening door greeted you before you were dragged forward again, forced to your knees in a kneeling position, a cold hand pushing your head down before yanking the blindfold off. You squinted even in the low light of the massive room, flickering candles in massive standing candelabras lined the room and cast dancing shadows across the stone walls; shadows that seemed to mock you.

It seemed to be a jumble of senses as you tried to figure out just where the hell you were; the temperature of the room, the smell of incense permeating the air, the rough feeling of stone beneath your knees and toes, the sensation of light cloth against your skin from a white gown like dress you had never seen before, and the massive door being the only way in or out lined with guards in black robes.

There were other captives kneeling next to you in a line, a few of them crying softly and the others with their heads down and their eyes closed, lips mumbling words you couldn't quite hear but you assumed they were a prayer. All dressed in identical gowns to yours.

You turned your head slightly to try and get a look at the people behind you, all of them in robes of various shades of red, a symbol carved into the flesh below their collarbones. The guard behind you turned your head back to face the stage again, his eyes a feral shade of orangey yellow as he bared his teeth. Fangs, not teeth, you realize, your body begins to shake. What was going on here? A sharp cry echoed through the room as a woman down the line was bashed across the back of the head with a wooden pole after seemingly trying to get up, her sobs only seemed to grow as they began poking and prodding her, laughing at her anguish and fear.

“Now now we know better than to play with our food don’t we?” a deep voice rang out from the front of the stage, one light turning on to showcase exactly who was talking. The room erupted in applause as the dark-haired man bowed, smiling as he motioned for the crowd to settle, “What is rule number three?”.

“Pain ruins the blood” the crowd answered together.

“That’s right” He commended, seemingly pleased for the moment until he turned his gaze to the two offenders who had been pushing the woman around.

With a wave of his hand, they were turned to mist, blood spraying across the ground and walls as they turned to wet atoms. Your jaw dropped, stomach twisting. What the hell was going on?

“And we have no room for anyone who can’t follow my simple rules, correct?”

“Yes Master Suguru” the crowd chanted back.

“Help us!” one man cried, his head raised to stare at the master with pleading eyes. Suguru laughed, something airy and almost gleeful.

“But I am helping you,” He replied, “Helping you reach your potential, true enlightenment”. The crowd erupted in applause again, their clapping unnerving you. He continued to speak once the group died down again, explaining their cult mission in a voice that seemed as if he was speaking directly into your brain, whispering in your ear; the words curling around your brainstem and invading your nervous system. Despite the urge to flee, the primal need to get as far away as possible screaming, you couldn’t move. Frozen to the floor watching him gliding across the stone stage, back and forth in his long robes the color of garnet stone.

“Don't you see? You are but simple nourishment, akin to cattle for the slaughter, it's your true purpose".

Fresh adrenaline flared when the icy hand of the guard standing behind you wrapped around the back of your neck, the shrill scream that left your mouth didn't sound human; feral and desperate. The strap they had used to tie your hands dug deeply into your wrists as you thrashed, managing to throw the guard off balance enough to shoulder his thigh and send him to the floor before forcing yourself to your feet. The cult was swarming now, circling like a pack of wolves waiting for their prey to make the wrong move, their unnatural eyes bright with bloodlust.

“Enough” The dark voice of their leader brought them to a halt.

Like scolded dogs, they moved away from you, the guy you had knocked to the floor staring like he wanted to break your neck. Your knees throb from kneeling as you stand on unsteady feet, suppressing every urge not to shake as their leader approaches you in his unnerving gliding stride.

“Well well, a strong one aren’t you?” He asked in a seemingly pleased tone, drawing so close to you it felt like he was enveloping you, so close that you could see the delicate gleam of hunger in his carnelian eyes. The moment you looked into his gaze it felt as if your body had frozen, like prey in a trap. His pointed nails dragged smoothly across your cheek, riddling your skin with goosebumps.

The longer his cold fingers lingered the more it felt as if he was invading your body through every nerve ending, every pulse of your blood seemed to be at his will like he was pumping your heart manually.

Your mouth felt iron-locked, eyes unable to tear away from his as one hand held your jaw, keeping you steady as he reached behind you and easily sliced through the leather, the sound of the strap falling to the floor barely audible over the pounding of your heart in your ears.

‘Why can’t I feel the floor? Am I… floating?’ all of these questioning thoughts ran through your mind as you focused on the feeling of what seemed like your entire body was balancing in the palm of his hand.

“See? So easily subdued, such a good pet”.

It felt as if your heart should be pounding, adrenaline and cortisol spiking through your blood as a vague primal panic tensed every muscle to flee. But it wasn’t and nothing was happening except a boneless calm. Glass water in a lake. He leaned in close, his nose grazing the line of your pulse as his dark eyes flickered closed for a moment, a deep inhale drifting his warm exhale against your flesh as the energy buzzing around you reflected the restraint he was exuding to keep his lips from your throat.

“On your knees” He murmured, his hand releasing your jaw the second your legs gave out under you as he turned away, beginning to walk back with merely a glance down at you.

“Crawl”.

Your limbs weren’t your own as you dropped to your hands, your knees throbbing as the scrapes met the floor and shuffled across it; your head up with your eyes still trained on him and watching every fluid movement of his steps. You grit your teeth against the pain of the cuts opening again but are unable to stop trailing behind him, parading yourself for his power move. But as long as you weren’t being swarmed by these bloodsuckers you’d stay on your knees all night.

He ascended the stairs silent as a ghost, no sound reached your ears other than the whimpering of the others held captive cutting the pin-drop silence. He reached the stone landing three stairs before you did, two of his henchmen struggling but quickly moving a chair in for him that should be described as a throne, all dark wood and deep obsidian velvet cushions. They bowed graciously to him before skirring away as you moved to his feet.

“Look at you, come closer”. You shuffled forward until you were between his parted thighs, his hand cold as he traced the back of his fingers against your cheek, “So warm and supple”. You felt air invade your lungs again, the fog in your brain lifting, if only momentarily, and you finally move on your own accord. You rubbed your wrists where the strap had been cutting in, your white gown pooling around your legs now. A soft, unsatisfied noise escaped him as his dark eyes followed your brief glance down to your clothing, a sharp clawing-like nail pricking just under your chin to drag you up again. The room's cool air had fresh goosebumps erupting across your skin as he raised his hands to your shoulders before pushing the gown down and off to settle at your feet. You stayed still as he observed you in your bare form, your heart hammering in nervousness, fear taking the back burner for now. It felt like he was analyzing you. Not an inch of skin or cell in your body unseen as he regarded you with a sort of… interest.

“No need to be so nervous pet,” He said, leaning back comfortably, “You’re in capable hands now”.

“Who-Who are you?” You stuttered, your voice breaking as you lifted your arms to cover yourself. The chuckle surprised you.

“I am Geto Suguru, Master of this cult of… well animals, bloodsuckers, the discarded scraps I suppose”

“Why are you doing this?”. Another almost unnerving chuckle.

"Feeding them, and myself, so we don't get too restless, tends to cause more chaos when hungry" He mused, glancing behind you once and waving his hand dismissively before training his predatory gaze back to you. "but I must say I don't think I've ever had a meal as pretty as you".

You fight the shamed redness from your cheeks, your spine chilling as a shrill scream shattered the near quiet; the ravenous sounds of the bloodsuckers descending upon those sacrificed to their feral appetites had your stomach tied in knots.

"No no, eyes on me" Geto murmured, a strange tingling behind your eyes prompting you to face forward again, to ignore the carnage behind you unsuccessfully. The sickening sounds of teeth popping flesh had your stomach churning, skin crawling, and saliva pooling against your tongue as you forced the vomit down at the images your brain was conjuring up at the sucking wet sounds. You were so focused on not throwing up that you didn’t notice the cool hand wrapping around your wrist, Geto pulling you forward until you were stumbling into his lap. He settled your knees on either side of his lap, effectively straddling him in the chair and baring everything to his wandering gaze. Your body began to shake, afraid to put your hands anywhere but clutched to your chest, every alarm bell ringing loudly but your muscles froze.

“Geto I-” You stammered past your trembling jaw, only for one of his slender fingers to press against your lips.

“Master” He corrected in a hushed tone, “you’ll address me as Master while under my care”, He leaned forward slightly to draw his nose along your throat again, “at least for now”.

“M-Master”, the name foreign to your tongue and making something stir in your guts, “I’m-”.

“Scared, I know, Your blood is practically burning” He hummed, a soft smile on his lips that revealed his fangs, “purely divine”.

It felt wrong to be aroused at the feeling of this deadly man running his hands along your sides, his claw-like nails on one hand running tantalizing lines along your ribs. The other was planted flat on the small of your back, almost encouraging you to lean closer into him.

You squeaked at the feeling of his lips meeting your collarbone, his tongue slipping against the skin, tasting you, reveling in the sound of your heart beating like a racing horse.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You asked, finally putting your hands against his shoulders to keep balanced. His dark eyes flicked up to you, flames from the surrounding candlelight dancing in those black pools.

“I truly despise repeating myself,” He said, a more stern edge to his voice as he moved his hand up to thread in your hair, arching your neck back a little to expose your throat.

“It’ll only hurt for a moment, take a deep breath”.

You could do nothing but follow his instructions, air filling your lungs for a moment before a sharp stinging pain erupted across your throat, bringing tears to your eyes as you let the breath escape in a shaky whimper, your hands shoving against his shoulders in a futile effort to move him.

His hold was unbreakable. Pinning you to his lap and barely allowing any movement. The pain radiated through your body, a flash burn that made every nerve under your skin ignite. But suddenly there was nothing. No pain. No fear. Just a blooming euphoric feeling.

Were you dying? No no that couldn’t be this. Nothing could be this.

You felt a soft chuckling growl tremor against your throat as sagged a little against Geto’s chest, the hand against your moving for his arm to encircle you and keep you steady.

“It’s the venom” He murmured into your skin, answering your silent question. It was then you noticed all other sounds past this were numbed. Muffled like someone had filled your ears with cotton. It was as if you were in a bubble, the only feeling being Geto beneath you. The feeling of his lips on your throat, his cool hands caressing your skin, the softness of his robes. Like all the nerve endings in your body were firing at once. Your hips bucked against him as he dragged his nails softly down your spine, releasing your hair to make you shiver. The stimulation of your heat had a choked moan escaping, bucking your hips involuntarily again and feeling a prominent bulge forming.

“Easy now pet” He hissed, his hands going to your hips as rocked against him again and again, the stimulation buzzing through your body like you were touching a live wire. You couldn’t help how wet you were, the stickiness of your thighs drawing a burning heat to your face. Your gasp echoed around you when Geto unlatched himself from your throat, his lips red and shining in the dim candlelight, beckoning you in to steal a sinful kiss. As if reading your mind he leaned forward, one hand softly against the back of your next pulling you to meet him halfway and taste yourself against his lips. It should have been gross, downright revolting to have your blood smearing against your lips and swallowed against your tongue, but you let him devour you. Panting with a soft moan as his tongue slid against your lower lip, his sharp canines nicking against the soft flesh and drawing fresh blood into both of your mouths.

“You want it that bad?” He questioned and you realized your hips hadn’t stopped moving, the wetness leaking against the material of his robes. With the way this dizzying need consumed your brain and body, you couldn’t say no. Wouldn’t say no. Not when you were balancing on a precipice this steep. If all you needed to do was give yourself to him, blood and body, then it was much preferable over anything that would have happened with those fiendish goons still devouring on the floor behind you. You gasped as he lifted you up slightly, hands against your hips as he shifted the front of his robes open. The groan that tumbled from his lips as you wrapped your hand around his cock sent a shiver through you, his dark eyes peering up at you through heavy lids as his sensitive head grazed across your wet heat. You tried to sink down and take him all at once but his sharp nails dug into your hips and ass the moment he breached your entrance.

“Ah ah, go slow” He instructed, squeezing your flesh and pulling you down an inch at a time, your head swimming as he stretched you so well, stuffing himself right up against the soft spot inside of you. A sharp hiss escaped you as he roughly prodded your cervix.

“It’s- too much” You whined, shifting your hips uncomfortably.

“You’ll learn to take it” He murmured, his lips grazing your chest as he panted out a heavy groan, “So tight”. Another sharp pain against the side of your breast and suddenly you were buzzing again, that euphoria leaking back into your bloodstream. You could feel him drawing your blood in against his tongue, drinking you down greedily like he was a dehydrated man receiving water, his hands beginning to guide you along his length. It felt like he was dissolving into you, your warmth gripping him and filling his stomach at the same time as you began to bounce, your clit smashing into the hair at his pelvis as moans crumbled passed your lips more freely.

“That’s right, fall apart for me,” Geto encouraged as he broke from your skin, the side of your breast slick with blood as it rolled down your stomach, his tongue tracing the line to clean up his spill. Your climax was edging embarrassingly fast, your wetness leaking out and staining the material of his robes as you panted and whimpered wantonly, completely disregarding anyone who could be watching at that moment. You could feel eyes on you, burning into your back with hunger but you ignored it, sparks popping behind your tightly closed eyes as Geto began thrusting up into your body.

“M-Master I’m-” You tried to tell him how close you were as his hand moved up to squeeze your cheeks, prompting you to open your eyes for him. Looking into his gaze had you under his spell again, like a mouse about to be consumed whole by a snake. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, a surprised hum bubbling from his chest as he pulled you in closer and began hammering against the soft sensitive spot deep inside and dragging you closer to your end.

“Cum for me” He whispered against your lips, the prick of his nails in your flesh sending you careening over the edge. Your arousal soaked your thighs and dripped from his balls to the chair as you shrieked, never having had an orgasm this intense before in your life. He chuckled darkly as he moved his thumb down to your clit, pressing in tight circles and sending you spiraling again, your hips moving without any rhythm as your second release crashed through you and further soaked his lap. You sagged against him as if boneless, your breath escaping in heavy pants and your heart thumping so loudly it sounded like it was leaking from your ears.

“Look at the mess you made, little lamb” He commented, his thumb going down to run across your folds and bring your juices to his lips, “you’ll have to do your part and clean me up with that exploring tongue of yours”.

A weak groan was all you were able to manage, not able to even move your arms. You felt so weak.

“But that will come later, need to have you in top shape to take my seed and produce my strong little spawns”.

You weakly raised your head to look at him, feeling the surprise on your face before he mentioned it.

“Don’t look so surprised little lamb, you’ve proven yourself a worthy vessel and an even worthier snack” He dipped his lips down to your ear, nipping lightly but drawing no blood as you twitched against him, “think I’ll keep you, make you my bloodsucking bride and give you true purpose, to be mine. Forever”.

#happy halloween #geto suguru #vampire geto suguru #jjk smut #geto suguru smut #tw monsterfucking #tw dubcon #tw blood #em writes ✍#em talks 👄

305 notes · View notes

noxturnalnymph · 9 months ago

Text

Devotion 🖤 I. Stronger Together (Ch 3)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE PREVIOUS

I. Stronger Together

CH 3 (5.3k) One afternoon you come back with Bianca from your baths and Tess informs you that you’ll now be accompanying Joel to one of his weekly community meetings. There are the three nights a week that you all leave the house, but Joel also goes out after dinner the other four nights of the week, interacting with different groups in The Valley. Tess has always accompanied him to his Thursday meeting and she lets you know that you’ll be taking her place.

At the meeting he introduces you to the group, which is comprised of farmers who live further down the Valley, outside the safety of the town. You learn that they come together every Thursday to bring in the animal products, take away food, trade supplies, discuss safety issues, and spend some time socializing. The evening meeting with Joel is the last thing they do before they head back to their land.

With each passing week, he watches you come out of your shell more and he’s impressed by your demeanor. You assist the older folks with getting a drink and a bite to eat. You make conversation with them, easily giving them your time and attention. You nod and listen when they speak with Joel about their concerns. Most importantly, you don’t overstep. You allow him to speak, giving them his practiced lines, finding solutions to their issues and pacifying their fears.

You however, feel like you’re struggling to find your place at the house. In your attempt to fix the holes in Joel’s socks you accidentally sewed the socks shut, leaving Tess to pull the stitches and mend them properly. Tess gives you some rags and asks that you clean all of the surfaces in the house. She stops you ten minutes later when you can’t stop sneezing from the dust. She assigns you to the laundry instead, but the cold, soapy water makes your hands break out in hives. She makes a joke about you being allergic to hard work, but she doesn’t laugh. You think she was joking.

Sometimes you work outside with Rosie in the mornings, but you hate getting all dirty and smelling like earthworms. You pull up too many weeds that aren’t weeds and she sends you inside, urging you to use your talents elsewhere. What talents? You tag along with Sasha sometimes, and listen as she tells you how to set a trap for small animals, but you feel completely useless at her side. She’s good at so many things and you feel like a clumsy oaf, even more so when you trip in the woods one afternoon and scare off the deer she’d been tracking for an hour. She doesn’t attempt to hide her irritation the way Rosie did.

Kerri and Bianca try to use your help in the kitchen, but you burn all of the chicken on the grill your first night cooking. They switch you to helping with preparing the meals, but you cut yourself so badly with the knife that Joel threatens to take you back to the clinic and give you more of his blood. You stand against the doorframe with your arm above your head for forty five minutes before it stops bleeding and he calms down. No more kitchen work for you, he mutters as he holds you on the couch later, letting you rest while everyone else cleans up the meal.

All of the women are too nice to give you the dirty looks that you think you deserve. They all earn their place here and what can you do? Nothing. You try not to be sad the day that your only friend at the house, Bianca, moves out. Is she actually your friend, or is she just too timid to tell you off? You go up to the attic to help her pack up her few belongings before Tess sends you downstairs to help Kerri pack up to leave the room she’s been sharing with Sasha.

You’re nervous that with Bianca gone you’ll be expected to take over her chores, which are a little bit of everything. You seem to mess up every chore you’re assigned. What the fuck are you supposed to do with yourself? As you walk down the stairs you hear Tess tell Bianca that this is for the best, and that she’s just getting bigger. You’d noticed Bianca gaining weight but you didn’t know that was a problem. Did Joel say something about her weight gain? Why would he care?

You let your thoughts spiral a bit, wondering if Joel cared about your weight, if he would ask you to leave if you put on more pounds. Fat and useless, what a combo that would be. You’re not exactly skinny as it is, and you’re not even as nice looking as Bianca, with her kind, warm, brown eyes and her long, chestnut hair. She’s very shy and nearly silent but she’s very pretty. You see men look at her. Most people don’t give you a second glance, but that’s the way you prefer it. There’s a reason you chopped all your hair off and wore tight bindings across your chest for months.

You don’t want men looking at you. When a man looks at you he’s only thinking about one thing. He’s thinking what he can get out of you, what he can take from you; except Joel, you tell yourself. Joel doesn’t look at you like that. Joel doesn’t take, he wouldn’t do that. He still looks at you with wonder. He still has so many questions in his eyes about you that you’ve been slowly trying to answer. Maybe if you let him in, show him you’re trying to trust, he won’t care that you aren’t as useful in the home as the other women.

–

Joel’s schedule is packed, making up for meetings he missed while he visited with you all day, every day in the clinic for nearly two weeks. It means you have less reading time together during the week, so your time together dwindles to holding hands under the table at mealtimes, quick smooches as he pulls you into his office between meetings, and nuzzling into each other outside your bedroom door in the mornings.

Your only real alone time now is walking to and from the meeting on Thursdays. Each week after the meeting ends the group members filter out, some staying back to help you put away the folding chairs. As a group, you all walk together to the town square before splitting up; them heading out of town while you and Joel head back to the house. Each of these evenings allows you two a few stolen moments alone on the porch of the house before returning inside.

First you just spend them with your foreheads touching, noses brushing, and shared giggles between your pressed together lips. The second week Joel drags you onto his lap on the front porch bench, kissing and licking at your neck while you card your fingers through his hair. You start to panic when you feel him getting aroused underneath you, but the terrified voice in the back of your mind is muted when the front door opens and Sasha comes out for firewood, interrupting and ending your time alone together.

The following week is Thanksgiving, one of the few holidays The Valley celebrates. Joel makes sure you’re sitting next to him at the head table. There is so much going on, almost every single person – save for a small patrol – is gathered together for this feast. Everyone joins hands above the table while someone makes a prayer, but Joel doesn’t let go of yours for a long time afterward.

Even though you haven’t been getting as much alone time together, Joel feels like you’re still growing ever-closer. He has you next to him for this holiday meal so he can show you off. He wants everyone in The Valley to see that you trust him, that you’re becoming his. He notices your wide eyes scan the room, overwhelmed by the very large crowd of people and the raucous event. He leans over and whispers in your ear.

“What are you thankful for, baby?”

He sees your eyes cast down, trying to hide a shy smile. You squeeze his hand and meet his eyes. He squeezes yours back to ground you, to reassure you, like he’s taming a feral little animal.

The following week as you and Joel put away the chairs after the meeting, you hear a man call out a goodnight and you look up just in time to see the last farmer heading out the door. You turn in a circle to confirm there is no one else in the room with you and Joel, and your eyes come back to the door just as it clicks shut. The silence that follows is deafening. You’re completely alone with Joel. Completely.

What strikes you is not the all-encompassing fear that grips you; what strikes you is how this is not the usual fear you have come to know from being alone with a man. For once, you’re not scared of what Joel might do – by now you trust him not to hurt you. You have been mostly alone with him so many times in the last two months and he has always been gentle and respectful, never crossing your still-unspoken boundaries.

After he told you about his daughter, something inside of you shifted. For the first time in your whole life you thought that perhaps you belonged somewhere. Being here with him feels right, it feels like your destiny. You’re not scared of him doing something, you’re scared of him doing nothing. What if he doesn’t want you as badly as you want him? What if he got tired of waiting for you? What if he rejects you?

Joel sees you staring at the door with that look in your eye, the look like you want to run right through it, leaving behind a cartoonish hole in the door in your wake.

“PJ”, he says, and your eyes find his, “Let’s put away these chairs and we can go.”

–

He doesn’t try to hold your hand on the way home, worried that you’re too skittish for him to touch, sure that you’d bolt if he tried. You’ve never done that, you’ve never run from him and yet it’s always in the back of his mind. He’s so worried about losing you. He thinks about it all the time. It terrifies him.

The hour is late when you return to the house and you find it dark, everyone already in bed. You both head upstairs but instead of heading into his room as he usually does, he turns with you and stands outside your door. You tilt your head back to look up at him. Your hair has been growing out, looking more like a pixie cut now. He can just see the wet of your eyes twinkle in the darkness.

“Do you wanna come in?” you ask, your voice faint even in the silent house.

A deep rumble emanates from Joel’s chest. He can’t enter your room. It’s been one of Tess’ rules since the beginning and it’s very important to her. The position he holds in The Valley, the way that everyone looks up to him, she said they’ve put him on a pedestal. And once on a pedestal you have to be very careful because everyone can see you.

Everyone knows he lives with all of these women, and everyone knows that he sleeps with most of them. Everyone but you. He’s kept this knowledge from you on purpose. They are consenting adults, they each have their own space and their own autonomy. If they want to initiate sex with him, they come to his room. He doesn’t go to them, keeping it entirely on their terms.

But how does he reject your offer to come into your room without telling you the rest? Without revealing all of his half-truths and omissions. It’s taken so long for you to trust him, he can’t destroy that trust. But won’t saying no hurt you too? He wants to say yes but he can’t. How the fuck does he say no to you? Shit. He’s already waited too long to answer, his silence has gone on for too long.

“We could… close the door,” you offer. His eyes clench shut.

Jesus Christ you’re going to kill him. His dick is aching in his jeans right now. He’s been waiting for you to make an offer like this for so long. Waking up every morning hard, having to jerk off like a teenager before he can even start his day. None of the women have even tried to come to his room for sex since he brought you down off that mountain. He didn’t ask but he’s sure they see him preoccupied with you. Hell, he’s damn near drowning in you.

He’s never been like this with a woman he’s brought into the house. Never kissing them in the kitchen or touching their knees under the dinner table. He’s never made out with one of them in his office between meetings or woken up early just to smell their hair in the hallway. He’s gone off the fucking rails and it’s all because of you. But he can’t break the rule, he can’t accept your invitation into your room. He also can’t tell you about the rule.

Your heart is going to beat out of your chest, you’re sure of it. Joel reaches one hand forward to grab yours, finally touching you. His calloused fingertips trace the inside of your wrist, gently moving across the delicate skin. You can barely see in the dark but you know he’s moved closer because you can smell him, feel the heat of his body radiating off him. His clothes smell like sunshine, line-dried in the crisp autumn air. You smell the day wafting off his skin, a hint of sweat and leather hits your nostrils.

Your knees begin to knock together and you’re so afraid that they’re going to give out under you when he rejects you. You reach your free hand up to brace yourself, placing it on his chest, feeling his own heart thumping wildly underneath. You barely hear him say not tonight PJ over the pulsing beat in your ears, but before you can react to his refusal you feel his arms snake around your waist and he’s pressing his lips onto yours, hard.

He pushes you up against the open door frame of your room, his feet planted securely in the hallway. You immediately grant his tongue access to your mouth and he begins to explore it, for the first time. You’ve never felt his hot wet tongue against yours, and you think it just might be the thing that kills you. You moan into his mouth as you throw your arms around his neck.

He continues to kiss you with moving lips and licking tongue, your hands moving to twist in his curls – curls that are a bit longer than when you first met him. His arms roam freely up and down your back, pulling you close to him and pressing your hard nipples against the broad planes of his chest. You’re lost in the heat of him, the taste of him, the feel of his body pressing to yours. You’ve waited so long for this. You don’t know how long it’s going to last but you never want it to end.

Driven by lust, madness, or both, you cup your hand over the zipper on his jeans, palming his erection. It feels so big in your hold. He exhales a moan into your mouth and clutches his hand overtop of yours, pressing you into him more firmly, curving your fingers around the heft of it. Fuck, it’s so hard. You feel wetness dripping out of you into your underwear. Holy fuck you’re getting dizzy.

Unable to even think straight, you don’t notice he’s let go of your hand until you feel it cupping the front of your jeans, and the noise that leaves your mouth is sinful. He slams his mouth overtop of yours to muffle your wail but it still echoes down the silent hall. You know he must feel the heat radiating off your core, he must already feel how embarrassingly wet you are. He brings both hands to the front of your jeans and undoes the button, pausing to look you in the eyes and wait for you to nod him on further. You do.

As he takes down the zipper you close your eyes and think this is finally it, you’re finally going to feel him where you need him the most. But instead of feeling his fingers skirt along the waistband of your underwear, you feel them touching your lips. You open your eyes and his face is inches from yours. He nods his head and tells you to open, and lets his index and middle finger pass over your lips and touch your tongue.

He doesn’t have to tell you to close your mouth, you do it on your own, closing your eyes again and letting your pooling saliva coat his digits. You lick your tongue between them, along his knuckles and the pads of his fingers, then you gently suck, running your tongue flat along the underside as if it were another part of him in your mouth instead. You wish there was more light in the hallway because when you open your eyes to look at his face you’re pretty sure he looks the way you feel.

He takes his fingers out of your mouth slowly, a trail of saliva connecting them to your tongue briefly, before he dips them into your underwear and slides them right over your clit. He wouldn’t have known of course, but he didn’t need you to wet his fingers, you were already soaking wet from just his touch. The state he finds you in sends jolts of electricity surging down his cock.

He gently rubs his finger alongside your bundle of nerves, dragging them down to collect even more of your ample wetness. You scramble your hands up the front of his shirt, longing for skin-to-skin contact with him. You shuffle your fingers through his sparse chest hair and drag your nails over his hardening nipples, causing him to crash his lips against yours to silence his own groan this time.

He pushes his middle finger towards your hole and feels you nodding as he does it. His finger slides inside you so easily; you’re so fucking wet. He’s never felt anyone this wet before. You reach around behind him and shove your hands down the back of his pants, grabbing handfuls of his ass, squealing against his mouth when you discover that he’s not wearing underwear.

He continues to work his middle finger in and out of your tight hole, spreading his index finger to run it up alongside your exposed clit. He knows you like it because you’re whimpering and clawing at him non-stop. It’s so loud in the otherwise dead-silent house but he can’t bring himself to give a single shit who else can hear you. Every sound you make goes straight to his leaking dick.

He pulls his mouth off yours and brings his face to your hair, inhaling deeply. Today was your bath day and your hair smells like soap and lavender. He likes it but he prefers when it smells slept-in, smells like you. He lowers his mouth and sucks a dark mark into your skin just below where your neck meets your shoulder, then he brings his lips to your ear, biting and kissing your earlobe.

He whispers in your ear; you’re so fucking wet baby, you’re so tight, can feel how wet you are, can you feel it baby?, I’m gonna smell like you after this ya know, you’re all over me, can you hear it?, you’re gonna feel me for days baby, for days.

You yank on his arms, pulling him as close to you as possible and orgasm with a squeal, shuddering in his hold and panting his name over and over into the hollow of his neck. He takes his hands out of your pants, glistening with your release, and greedily shoves his fingers into his mouth above your head. Once clean he brings his face to the side of your neck, nuzzling you and nipping at your skin there and breathing in your heady scent.

Before either of you get a chance to give any due attention to his painful, raging erection, Tess’ door opens and she comes out of the room to head towards the bathroom. You yip in embarrassment and cross into your room, closing the door in Joel’s face. Joel shoots Tess a pissed off look and Tess shrugs her shoulders.

“Sorry, it sounded like you guys were done,” she says flippantly as she closes the bathroom door.

Joel knocks lightly at your door a few times and you open it a bit, mortified at being caught acting like a couple of horny teenagers.

“Don’t be shy, baby,” he coos. “We didn’t do anythin’ wrong.”

That’s true. He made sure to stay outside of your room so Tess has nothing to be upset about. He leans his face into the crack of your door and you give him several kisses on the lips but then you hear Tess coming back out of the bathroom and you shut the door in his face again, muttering a flustered goodnight from the other side of the wood.

He turns to Tess again, visibly angry and she suppresses a smile. She resists teasing him verbally and instead kisses him on the cheek and wishes him a goodnight also, closing her door behind her. Joel takes himself into his room and fucks his fist – again – to thoughts of you.

–

The week passes quickly, alone time together still nonexistent as Joel’s responsibilities increase. He always seems to be out of the house on patrols, having meetings, and visiting community members. He argues with Tess about his schedule being too full and she tells him winter is hard, and that people need extra reassurances to make it through. She also reminds him, in a whisper, that he has spent a lot of time focusing on one person and ignoring the rest, and he needs to make up for that. His only response is a growl before he leaves the room.

Joel finds you outside the bathroom door one morning and you blush, realizing you’re wearing one of his button-up shirts, ready to defend yourself for pilfering it off the laundry line. Instead of admonishing you, he wordlessly pulls the open collar over your one shoulder a bit, observing the fading mark he’d sucked into your skin. He kisses over it gently and you think he’s having regrets about marking you like that, but you say nothing, a little embarrassed by the fact that you stare at it every morning in the bathroom mirror.

When Thursday comes around again you find yourself alone once more after the meeting, entering a house that is dark and quiet. Instead of going upstairs you both go into the kitchen for a glass of water, slowly taking sips from your glass before you lose all control and launch yourself at him. This might be your first time instigating this kind of behavior but your need for him fuels your boldness.

You grab at him everywhere you can reach, pulling him tight to you, feeling the hardness of his shoulders under your hands and the softness of his belly against yours. You pull on fistfulls of his hair and shove your tongue into his mouth, eliciting groans from him. You don’t even care how desperate you appear as you writhe against him, whimpering. You are desperate for him.

You need him to hold you tight, to kiss you hard, to make you feel like a woman. You need to belong to him, to matter to him, to make him happy. You need him to give you purpose, to bring you joy, to make you whole. You need him to make you forget every man that came before him, every hand that touched you with bad intentions. You need to feel his body enveloping you. You need him to consume you.

He pulls you into the dining room and lifts your legs up to place your butt on the table’s edge but instead you wrap both legs around his waist. He growls at your aggressive move and pushes your back down firmly on the dining table, keeping himself against you. He begins to grind himself against your core, unable and unwilling to hold himself back.

Feeling like feral animals, you lick and moan into each other’s mouths as the table creaks beneath you. You shove your hands up the back of his shirt, clawing marks down him. He moves his face along your neck, taking deep inhaling breaths and nipping at your skin, debating on whether to give you a fresh mark. Fisting your hands in his hair, you tug on his locks and interrupt his thoughts, earning groans that he muffles into the crook of your shoulder.

Suddenly the lights in the kitchen flip on, and Tess is standing in the doorway.

“Please,” she says calmly, “Not on the table where we eat.”

You clap your hand over your mouth, silencing your loud yelp. Joel pushes himself off the table, also startled by her appearance. You take the opportunity to scramble away and run up the stairs. Hearing your door slam closed, Joel turns to Tess, snarling.

“What the fuck, Tess? What the fuck,” grabbing the edge of the table in a splintering grip.

“Why don’t you two just fuck already?” she chuckles, trying to rile him up.

“That’s what I’m fuckin’ trying to do,” he growls, slamming his fists down several times.

“Don’t break my fucking table,” she snaps at him.

Joel grabs her by the hips and pushes her face down bent over the table, slamming his body into her ass. Tess just lays there, letting him rut into her for a moment. He grabs her by the hair, yanking her up, and takes a big inhale into the back of her head, continuing to grind his pelvis into her. He takes a few more breaths and stops moving his hips, calming down. Eventually he releases her, pushing her away from him harshly.

“Yeah, I don’t smell like her, do I?” Tess says.

He mutters something she can’t quite make out, still pissed off. She can see his softening erection but a wild fucking look remains in his eyes. She watches him point to the table several times before he opens his mouth.

“That’s my fuckin’ table. I’ll do whatever I fuckin’ want to it,” and with that he goes up to bed.

He jerks off in his room alone. Again.

–

Once again the interim week is relatively tame, as you don’t have much chance to be alone together. You manage to sneak in kisses and touches when you can, but your stolen moments are no longer innocent. There’s no more playful giggles or gentle caresses. You exchange lustful glances over the table, your kisses are laden with tongue and your touches are now groping and needy.

You wake up every morning having dreamt of him all night, and spend every day wet and wanting, full-body shudders running through you at the memory of his hands and lips on you. Everytime you pass him in the hallway you ache for him, fleeting touches never fulfilling the longing you feel. You can’t get to sleep at night without touching yourself, covering your face with your pillow to muffle your pleasure.

You don’t remember being this wound up over anyone in your whole life, especially not since the world ended and every day became a fight to survive. Touching yourself never brought you such relief before, but imagining it’s Joel touching you ignites a spark deep inside and your desire is driving you mad. Joel makes you forget how miserable things are, how scared you’ve been. He makes you feel safe.

The next Thursday you come back from the meeting much later than expected, Tess is waiting up – drinking tea in the dining room, a bit concerned. She sees you both enter, him practically carrying you inside and up the stairs. When he comes back down she goes to make some commentary about you two “finally” doing the deed when she sees a fresh wet stain high inside the thigh of his pants. Did he come in his pants?

“What the fuck?” she can’t help it from slipping out.

He doesn’t meet her eyes, just shrugs his shoulders and shuffles into the kitchen for a drink. He doesn’t seem agitated like he was when she interrupted him before so she thinks he must at least be satisfied with whatever happened tonight. He passes back through the room and mutters a goodnight, heading upstairs without elaborating on the state he’s in or what kept you two so late.

She’s known Joel for many years and has felt a lot of things for him, but at no point did she let herself believe that he felt anything close to love for her. She had actually convinced herself that he was incapable of feeling love, and is pretty sure he’s convinced himself of the same thing. But what is this if not true intimacy?

She wasn’t sure about you at first, especially given your penchant for fucking up your chores. But you are friendly to your housemates and giving in the community. You’re kind but reserved, and although it takes you a while to warm up to people, Tess firmly believes that you’re a genuinely good person, and – most importantly–- could be truly good for Joel. She sees that Joel lets his guard down around you, and that you like Joel for who he really is, which is something he doesn’t show to anyone.

She knows he’s kept things from you, and wonders how much he’s been manipulating you in-between letting his true self show. Maybe that’s not the right word for what Joel does, manipulate. It doesn’t feel like that’s what he’s doing when you’re the target of it. It feels good, amazing even, because when Joel makes you feel like you matter to him, it’s intoxicating. It’s the best fucking feeling in the world.

She wonders if things are going to change, and how they might change. She thinks that if Joel can admit his true feelings and commit, then his relationship with you could change the very trajectory of this community. She and Joel worked very hard to build this community up but she knows that it’s stable enough now that a change like this won’t topple it. She quietly hopes it will change significantly.

She doesn’t love how subserviently women are treated in this community and has always wondered if it would transform if Joel took a partner. For a while she hoped that partner would be her, but that thought died out long ago. If Joel is seen in public showing love and affection for an equal female partner, it could benefit women and the community as a whole going forward.

She lets herself envision that future, where Joel embraces his feelings and makes changes in his home and the community, and the positive effects are felt all across The Valley. But the biggest hurdle will be getting Joel to admit to himself – and everyone else – the softness and vulnerability that you bring out in him. Letting himself love someone means opening himself up to loss, and if there’s one thing that Joel Miller does not do, it’s lose.

🖤

Thank you endlessly to @papipascalispunk for helping me with this series and listening to me rant about Cult Leader Joel. 🫂 I appreciate you SO much.

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin

#devotion series #cult leader joel miller #noxturnalpascal #ofc!reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

173 notes · View notes