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omgfangirlland · 4 months ago

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The Shadows That Nurture 10

Added dividers because I felt like the time skip/scene change would become confusing without any indication of it.

I really need an answer on how y'all feel about Immortal x Dupli-kate cuz depending on the popular opinion stuff will change 🤐 I'm willing to split a lot of people up for the drama and/or miscommunication nonsense

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 10 >>next

Some place where the supernatural meets the normal, a little place called The Oblivion Bar, John Constantine simply sat shocked at the words he managed to hear and process through his mushed brain. Bobo closes his hung jaw, drinks his whiskey, and pats his friend’s shoulder as the man mumbles a sobering spell, cringing at the effects. “I should go. Good luck, John.” And so, the chimpanzee quickly makes his exit, leaving the Laughing Magician and Death of the Endless to their business.

“I need you to walk me through this again, luv- wasn’t quite paying attention.” Constantine shook his head as he fully turned to face the smiling entity. “You and who did what?!” He hissed, voice barely above a whisper as he tried not to bring attention to what they were saying. This was bad. Really bad.

“Lady Gotham and I took a liking to Batman’s youngest daughter and-“ John quickly interrupted her. “And gave her magical powers beyond my comprehension and immortality- yes, I heard that, did you?!” The man rubbed his face, the thought was making him want to get drunk until he dropped. ”Have you gone mad? Giving a mortal immortality is more of Dream’s style you should know better-“

Death only smiled at him, amusement filling her eyes as she gently laid a hand on his shoulder making him tense up. “She was lonely, she deserves every happiness those powers and eternity are bound to give her. You’ll understand once you see her.” And boy, did John laugh his gut out at that as he shook his finger. “No- no, no, no- there’s no way I insert myself into that mess- Bat’s family is already a mess and reeks of you without magic- No- There’s no way- that’s bonkers-“

Death gets up with a bright smile. “Thank you, John.” Her words make him stutter almost choking on his breath at the audacity. “Don’t thank me ya loon! I’m not going to help her, I’m not even going to see the moppet!” He can only yell and cuss as she leaves.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Alright, Cecil-“ The old man immediately interrupted you, the little communication device in your ear buzzing with life as he told you to not use names. “… Dude… I’m miles in the air, first of all! Second, that was like a really common name once. it’ll take a while to find you specifically, and I doubt anyone could anyway- you seem like the type that would erase himself from the gov’s documents.”

“Anyway-“ You didn’t give him time to say anything else. “What house am I supposed to go to again? And why?”

The old man sighs at your antics, rubbing the side of his forehead as he feels the headache coming while he gives the address once more. “Your brother’s teacher, Mr. Hiles, has been the mall bomber. It took us a while, he was smart about it, kept his search into biological bomb-making off the internet but he wasn’t that thorough about his paper trail.”

“Be prepared for anything and a confrontation.” The older man cleared his throat. You always made him nervous; you were an unexpected equation in everything, something he couldn’t control without risking Earth. Donald and everyone else just took his weariness and suspicion as him being overly cautious, but Cecil could tell something was clinging to you that just gave him nightmares.

“And thank you- usually I would have sent someone from the Teen Team but…uh-“ His eyes followed the action on another screen. “They’re busy. Your brother and father are helping them.”

“You’re nervous. Yapping again. Chill, I’ll take care of it. Just because I don’t want to be your little puppet doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep people safe.” You found the man irritating, but for now, he was being sane, actually doing his job, so you couldn’t complain. “Getting closer to the target. Going dark.” Was the only warning the man got before the com was powered off.

Finally ready to land you politely greeted the man, walking through the training both Cecil and Nolan provided at the start of your vigilantism. “I didn’t expect to get caught quite this early, and I certainly expected… more conventional authorities when the time did come.” Professor Hiles just sighs and welcomes you in by your birth name. “How did you-“

“Are you kidding me? Mark is unable to shut up about you. And you forget to wear your hood more times than you do wear it.” The man said as he took off his sweater. “Follow me, I’ll show you to the fourth missing student. I assure you, I have no intention of resisting.” Well… This was easier than expected.

As he started to confess about how he started doing this, he led you to his basement. “Mr. Hiles, while I understand the loss of a child to suicide, a divorce, and the loss of a job ruined you until you hit rock bottom, avenging your son like this-“

“I’m not avenging the death of my son. That would be far too cliché.” Your eyes landed on the teen strapped to the table once he turned on the light, breath hitching as you saw the skin of his arms merging sloppily with the metallic torso the professor modified. “It’s the destruction of my life that has me seeking revenge.”

“The domino effect of pain and sorrow that these monsters create. Children who spend too much time at the mall, attend parties, consume alcohol, and play sports when they should be studying and doing homework.”

“I understand your ire, I’m not one for parties or drunks, but not all kids who do that stuff go to extremes, that’s a flawed logic- it does not give you the right to play god and do-“ You tried to placate him, keeping your tone soft and even, to try and make him see reason. “What I did to all of them, turning them into living bombs, an instrument with which to exact my revenge… my crusade to end the pain and sorrow by these- ‘popular’ kids… I feel no guilt for.”

“I can’t think of a more appropriate end to my crusade-” Mr. Hiles ripped open the shirt he was wearing, revealing the same mechanism the unconscious teen had. “-than the death of a superhero!” You quickly acted, not letting him talk more beyond that as the timer set to 50 seconds started trickling down while you grabbed him, breaking through his ceilings and roof and flying high in the air.

“Is this really how you want to die? Suicide bomb? You still can make this right- you don’t have to die like this just tell me how to deactivate it!“ Your eyes remained on the clock. Twenty, nineteen, eighteen. The man just chuckled a dry, humorless laugh. “Do it. There is nothing for me anymore.” Five, four, three.

You couldn’t tell if what you felt was sorrow or shame, but you knew you were defeated. The man was going to get one final death, but it won’t be yours. As your flight came to a stop well above the clouds, you threw the man higher in front of you as the clock struck one second, and as it hit zero, the bomb detonated, the range and heat of the explosion destroying any remains while pushing you back a bit.

Your eyes remained on the cloud of smoke it created. If the cops found him before you did, the bomb would have wiped out the neighbors, too. That’s what hero life was, what it is. Sacrifices left and right that only made you feel more at odds with this job than before.

As you went back to the house, you activated the com, putting it back into your ear. Cecil immediately informs you that the police are en route as well as his clean-up team. “Get an explosive ordnance disposal technician, too. There is a teen in the basement, the bomb doesn’t seem active yet, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. I’ll send a report of what happened soon.” You stayed until Cecil’s people showed up, just to be sure the boy was still breathing and that the bomb wouldn’t activate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Helping Brit and the other heroes clean up the rubble from the alien attack helped keep your mind off things. The Brit enjoyed talking about his kid and wife, yapping until he needed to take a breath and then starting again keeping a smile on your face.

You enjoyed helping clean up, especially when there were no casualties, today wasn't that type of day. But it had become the easy, relaxing part of the job, pick big rubble up, place it into the waste trucks, pick another piece up, make sure to not hit the man in the trench coat, put it in the waste- wait…

Your head snaps back to the man, squinting as your eyes meet. You each take a second to take each other in before your eyes widen in surprise. “Hello, luv. I’m-“ You couldn’t help your excitement as recognition finally settled into your brain. “I know you-“ Your words made John cringe and tense up. When others said that it never ended well for him. “You’re Johnny Con-Job, the lead singer for Mucous Membrane, dude, your band got me into the punk culture.”

That… wasn’t what he expected. He wasn’t sure if he should be proud of that or fight back the mental breakdown that was creeping up his spine. “You’re a bit young for that slop, no?” You just shrug. “Your songs got me to finally put myself first, to get the courage to sneak out, see other stuff beyond the walls of my first house, help others, and leave my neglectful family before they could seriously hurt me.” Her words worried him. John never took Bruce as the “lock his kids up” type, but the man was as paranoid as they came, he wouldn’t put that above him.

“It may be slop and shitty vocals, but it’s what I needed to hear.” You teased him while putting the rubble in the waste collector. He watched as you approached him with a soft smile and sparkling eyes. He could see what Death meant. “I need to talk to you. I’m not quite sure about what luv, but I think it’s about Batman-“ He didn’t get to finish, as soon as the name left his mouth, he was grabbed by the throat and lifted well above the clouds, way too close to the ozone layer. “Did he send you?” you hissed, giving his neck a warning squeeze.

Yup. He definitely saw what Death meant as your eyes glowed a Lazarus green. “Nno-“ He choked out. “Did Bruce Wayne send you?” her question was met with the same answer. Your grip softened, grabbing him by his coat instead of his neck as you brought him closer. “Then why are you here?”

“We need to talk in private…” He whispered as he realized the situation.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

This was a whole mess that John Constantine knew he should have stayed out of- he knew! From Bruce to the whole family basically ignoring the kid, not even telling her about the vigilantism, to the rogues taking her in and doing a better job of raising her to her running away and getting adopted by another hero- a hero that John knew wanted to conquer the world, the whole fucking race wanted to, the fucking demons had a problem with that and wouldn’t stop complaining to him like he can fix it- he takes a deep breath in. “Why are you telling me all of this?” He whined, rubbing his face as he sat on the edge of some skyscraper with you.

“I’m not hiding my past, I’ll happily snitch and tell a reporter that Bruce Wayne is a shit father, they all just assume I’m Nolan’s actual kid that was in the hospital for a deadly something or whatever.” You shrug. “Please don’t- not because I care about the bellend- I just don’t want to deal with… Huh. Now that I’m thinking about it, that may be great blackmail.” His words only made you snicker.

He didn’t know where to begin. Did she know about the Viltrumite? Was she in cahoots with him? Should he tell her any of that? Would she even believe his ass? Maybe he should get the JL involved...

The scruffy man shook his head. “Not why I’m here. You said your hero name is Sorceress? Great, so you know you have magic powers, that makes it easy-“ John took in your shocked expression. Of course, it wasn’t that easy, it never could be. “If this was another world, I’d call you crazy.” You told him simply. “But Midnight City is cursed, and I guess that makes sense… Is that why I can hear the shadows speak?”

John nodded before doing a double take, asking you to elaborate on the shadows speaking part. “They just speak, whisper, giggle the whole thing. They can also emit what they feel. They’ve always been present, they’re not as strong here, but I think that’s because they’re more tied to Gotham and Midnight City… or just- where there is more darkness.”

“Well, you’re not far off there, love.” The man nodded in agreement as his eyes drifted to the dark dome around the cursed city. He knew where to start. “This is going to be a long explanation, you better strap in, hen, and let me finish before you ask questions.”

“You remember the painting and murals you made of gods and other entities, demons, angels, the whole sort, in Gotham and here? Yeah, they brought the attention to you from the entities you drew. Some of the moppets took them as a higher form of offering than others, a few of them decided to stick around you.”

“Those have also decided to- ‘bless’ you with a few gifts, I’m not sure of all of them, but I know specifically that Lady Gotham offered the shadows as a companion and protector, and I know that Death of the Endless has blessed you with… well, immortality.” There was no way of walking around that fact. “I don’t remember if any of these two also gave you your powers, I was quite sloshed, but someone did.” John looked at the kit, taking in her shocked expression before he nudged you a bit. “Come on, kid, say something. You got me all worried here.”

“It’s all just- a bit much.” You mumble. “Yeah, I get it. A lot for you to shoulder, but I’m sure you’ll power through- oh, thanks love… Wha- How-“ John’s eyes moved from the beer in his hands to the energy can you were looking at. You just shrug. "I wanted to know if I could, thought…” You narrow your eyes at the can in your hands. “I’m not sure if this is made out of thin air or just- teleported or something.”

Constantine just slowly looks back at his beer mug… She was taking this better than most. He hoped it was because the shock hadn’t worn off yet. Well, he’s had worse things in his mouth, he's sure, so with a shrug, he takes a sip, humming with delight at the taste, muttering something about this being real beer. “You’re here to help me, right? Like- with my powers… I- I think I need help with this whole worshipping gods and demons- entities- thing, too.”

He knew the easy way out would be to say no, to just leave, she had done just fine without him… But that isn’t what came out of his mouth. “Sure, poppet. Just keep on giving me this fine beer.” Given his track record with people and magic, he shouldn’t feel this accomplished at your happiness, but he was always quite selfish, so he returned your hug, even if he was a bit stiff.

“Now- usually the normal thing is to go from small stuff to big, teach the basics, but I’m not one for rules. Have you ever wanted to teleport via portals?” The big mischievous smile you gave him was all the answer he needed.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You came home at the same time as Nolan and Mark, everyone’s first stop after greeting Debbie was their bedrooms to refresh themselves before going back to the dining area. “I’m going to be honest, Nolan, the longer hair and full beard fit you better than the silly mustache. Right, mom?” You couldn’t help the teasing as the whole family ate. Debbie looked at Nolan with a scrutinizing eye, before sighing and giving an amused smile. “I’ll definitely miss the beard.”

Mark snorted at the teasing as Nolan pouted, brows furrowing. “It’s not silly- it’s a rite of passage into manhood by the Viltrumite culture-“ you couldn’t help but interrupt. “It’s still a silly-looking mustache. What does the Viltrumite rite of passage for women look like?”

Nolan’s momentary displeasure at the mustache comment was overlooked as the inquiry about the Viltrumite women was brought forth. “Huh… I’m not sure, I never really paid attention to that. I think some cut their hair.” A puff of air escaped you in amusement before deciding to tease him some more. “Well, you clearly weren’t planning for a daughter that’s sure.”

Debbie just took in the chatter. She enjoyed the easy atmosphere, the laughter of her kids. “So, how was everyone’s day?” She asks once the chatter stops. “Oh, I met the Teen Team and helped them with the Flaxan attack, dad got kidnapped by them while I was trying to gather up survivors, made friends with Atom Eve, and met an alien called Allen who apparently got the wrong planet.” Mark shrugged.

“I spent the last eight months enslaved by an army from an alternative dimension, although it seems much less time has passed here. About a week ago, I led a revolt against my captors and regained control of my powers. Today, a team of scientists from the rebellion found a way to get me home.” Nolan lied as easily as he breathed.

“One of Mark’s teachers was turning his classmates into organic bombs in order to take revenge on kids he felt were like the ones who led his son to commit suicide. He turned himself into a bomb also and tried to take me out with him but clearly, it didn’t work in his favor. Helped clean up after the Flaxan mess, and met the lead singer of Mucous Membrane who apparently is a mage. He was here on behalf of Death herself to help me and tell me that my powers aren’t because I’m a meta, they’re magic. Oh, and also, I’m allegedly immortal.” You took a sip of water. “Lex also wants to know if anyone would be interested in attending one of his rich folk parties.”

At the quietness of the room, you lifted your eyes from your plate to look at everyone’s shocked glance. “What?” you ask with a mouth full of food.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

That night, the teens wanted to sleep with their parents, both needing reassurance. Debbie and Mark were already gone, sleeping deep and peacefully. “Dad… You awake?” your question was whispered as your head lay on Deborah's shoulder. He answered with a warm hand squeezing your shoulder and a quiet hum. “...How do you move past people you can’t save or the people we have to sacrifice?”

Nolan wasn’t sure how to answer that, he’d never felt anything for the people he couldn’t save. He knew that if he had to save earth’s people or his kids and wife… Well… Earth can be populated again. “You look at the people who you did save. We can’t always save everyone, that’s the sad reality. It’s… painful. But it’s a truth all heroes have to come to terms with. Even I can’t save everyone.” Nolan wrapped his arms around his girls and son tighter, pulling everyone closer. “If all you could save was a person, you still did everything you could. If you couldn’t save anyone, you just have to keep your head high and try again.”

You snuggled closer into your mom, feeling her arm instinctively wrap around you as you draped yours over her and Nolan’s stomach, your fingers laying on Mark’s wrist. The sad reality of being a hero...

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou

I'M REALLY SORRY IF I FORGOT SOMEBODY- MY DOC SOMETIMES FORGETS TO SAVE AND I HAD TO READD PPL

#dc x invincible #dc crossover #invincible crossover #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x neglected reader #yandere invincible #neglected reader #yandere batfamily #fem!reader #female!reader #platonic yandere #yandere batfam x reader #yandere!debbie grayson #yandere!nolan grayson #yandere!mark grayson

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hazelfoureyes · 1 year ago

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Alastor in Rut (one shot)

Rutting Alastor x Fem Rabbit Reader

Less than confident and lacking much in the way of assertiveness, you find hell to be scary. But, a very kind and helpful deer demon has a solution! Just in time, as an unexpected rut hits him and he feels the need to reel you in.

this is pure self indulgence. Shout out to @jazzmasternot , @lustylita , @sugoi-writes , and @minkdelovely for keeping me sane and horny (with art lol)

「Warnings/Promises: actual warning - mentions of accidental vehicular homicide and reader's death, Marathon Smut, p in v, finger almost in a?, anal is considered, knotting because fuck it, attempt at breeding, womb flooded, not dubcon but everyone in the hotel thinks it is, slightly repetitive fucking because he wont waste semen on other holes, Alastor would fuck anyone but you’re the most amusing, Alastor doesn’t think he’s the good guy which is honestly kinda cute, deadass talk about making you carry his fawns?? Why is it so hot?? Knock me up deer man bleat bleat bitch, implied previous relationship with a human man, plans to cuckold your ex, heat, blue fire isn’t hot, you’re tricked into a deal with Alastor, kinda size kink, demon Alastor, minor aftercare, a little sexual choking (as a treat)」

Hey--- we're all here for something. This is 10000 words, 5300 or so is smut. Smut starts at the bright green divider for you impatient and horny deeries.

MINORS YOU KNOW THE DRILL DNI

The line for reception was long, but that was to be expected. After the extermination ended early and Adam killed on television by a maid, the Hazbin Hotel had been busy. Or so you overheard others saying. You’d only been in hell a day, lucky enough to catch the advertisements and hear the gossip for the hotel soon after your descent.

You recognized the princess immediately, but not that tall man beside her. He wasn’t doing anything, just staring and smiling. Was he friendly? Were there friendly people in hell? Truly friendly. Not high school girl friendly. Or hungry witch friendly. He had witch vibes.

“Hiya welcome to the”, she took a deep breath in, “Hazbin Hotel! I am Charlie! This is Alastor! What did you do to bring you to hell? Gotta know so we can cater your redemption activities to your sins!”

She was staring at you so happily, pen over paper. Your eyes nervously shot to the man, who leaned down in response.

“I fell asleep driving and killed someone, and myself.”

Everything about Charlie was frozen still except the sudden glossiness forming over her eyes. “You… you… were you like, a thief or… did you…… push old ladies into traffic?”

You shook your head no.

“Gluttonous? She asked.

“No, I wasn’t a fan of overindulgence.”

“Prideful, then?”

“Unfortunately… I don’t think too highly of myself. Living or dead.” Your hand came to your down turned rabbit ears, sad and limp. Even in death you weren’t the right kind of anything.

“Uhh,” Charlie clicked her pen furiously again and again, “Lustful?”

“Just the one partner. My highschool sweetheart.”

A sweat was forming on Charlie’s brow, “Sloth?”

“I did fall asleep behind the wheel… but it was from working 25 hours of overtime this week.”

Charlie put the pen down, “I don’t think you belong in hell. You made an accident. That’s not how sins should work…”

Your eyes bore holes into the desk, avoiding eye contact, “I don’t think heaven cares much about that.”

“Poor thing. Let’s circle back, Charlie.” Alastor’s large hand rested on your head, patting twice.

She nodded, “Good call. I’ll just,” her tongue stuck out as she began to write, “make a new category just for you! Other.”

Yeah that made sense, you thought. That was fitting. This truly was hell. Finally you stood out, as the one who didn’t fit in. You supposed that’s what a wallflower deserved for murder.

“Follow me little one.” The tall Alastor instructed you as he snatched a key from the hook and walked past you.

Happily. Small tail uncontrollably swishing as you followed a foot behind him.

A hum of approval, Alastor noticing the distance you kept.

“You obey instructions well.”

You always did. “Thank you.” Tiny and soft, your response made his shadow shift and smile.

It wasn’t a compliment, but the fact you took it as one interested him. Subservient.

Fun.

“I take it that you really were a good girl in life, weren’t you?” He swiveled on his heels to face you, the sudden change causing your face to run into his lower chest.

A song of apologies fell from your mouth as you backed up, tripping over your own pathetic attempts at platitude and falling back onto your ass.

He was tall before but now he towered over your, hand outstretched to help you up. You offered a thank you before taking it.

Clawed fingers tightened around your palm. Not letting you pull away. “You’re new to hell, right?”

A glance around, no one else in the hallway, “Is it obvious?”

“Yes. But also, you mentioned work this week.”

A nod, “It’s been maybe a day.”

Delicious.

“Could I offer you some advice?” He leaned down, hand tightening further. Wide eyed and a little frightened with the change in atmosphere, you just nodded again. “It’s very dangerous out there for little prey animals like yourself.”

“Aren’t you also a prey animal?”

His hand uncurled.

A moment of tension, Alastor leaning down further.

A strange sound was coming from his microphone, the best approximation you had was a car radio going haywire skipping through the channels.

“Room 243!” His body popped up and he held the key out for you. The hallway lights seemed to be glowing brighter now.

You grabbed the key, “Thank you!”

Two fourty three was just past him. A small tremble kept you from getting the key in on your first and even second try.

You didn’t even stop to turn on the light, just pushing the door closed behind you as soon as your body was through the threshold.

The relief barely left with a sigh when you heard it, “You know…”

Frozen, your eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to see the shining of his red and pink eyes in front of you.

“I’m somewhat of a deal maker. For a small price, I could help you. Perhaps, you’d like a change of appearance?” His voice seemed to be coming from the walls, above and beside you all at once.

Something lifted a floppy ear. But his eyes were too far from you for it to have been his own hands. A small scream as you smacked at the appendage.

“What do you say? I can use a little magic to make you happier with your new form.” A dark whisper into your right ear.

Your hands flew to your head before you dropped to your knees to escape the hidden things touching you.

“What do you want?” To your left now. “Let’s make a trade. A deal.” Above your head.

His eyes were gone. Just darkness and a soft laugh echoing around you.

Your mind was reeling through possible answers, what did you want? At that moment? In general?

An answer tumbled out, too quietly.

“Hmm?” His eyes reappeared closer to you and glowing a bloody red. “Speak up, my ears are quite a bit higher than your mouth.”

A second attempt, “Safety. I wanna be safe.” The laughter got louder, mocking you without words.

“A little tougher of an ask.” The sound of something slithering near your feet made you pull your knees tighter to your chest. “But! I’m here to please. In exchange for protection from the more nefarious of hell’s citizens I’ll need something worth my while.”

Of course, that is how deals work, right? A promise with compensation.

“I don’t have any money, or possessions yet. Maybe I should try again later?” You were lost in the light of his stare and found the darkness deepening around him.

A considered hum, “Well, you’re already dead. You’ve no need for your soul. Damned as it is, give it to me instead. To keep safe. And I’ll always answer your calls for rescue when in harm's way.”

Why would…what use was a soul, you wondered. Was he right? But if he wanted it, surely it had value. You were too new to this world, scared to say yes and part with what little you had.

At the risk of angering the demon in the darkness of your room, you whispered to yourself and hoped he would hear it, “I think I shouldn’t.”

Hissing in your ear, “Disappointing.”

The lights flickered on, an empty room. A bed. A nightstand. A closet. A bathroom. No tall smiling dealmaker.

A tremor stayed in your hands through the night.

To your surprise, when you ran into Alastor the next day he was more than kind. He was eavesdropping when you asked Charlie if the hotel needed any staff. Not only did you want to be of use, you were hoping to earn some money. He quickly slid beside Charlie suggesting things you could do.

Wow, you thought. He didn’t hold a grudge at all. Maybe he had been trying to help before?

It took a few weeks, but you found a groove. You were a floater between the staff, helping Husk with the restocking of his bar, following behind Niffty with supplies her tiny arms couldn’t carry, and keeping notes for the activities Charlie held. It was vital for you to feel needed and everyone seemed happy to have you around. Hell wasn’t so bad.

“Dear,” Alastor found you holding a basket of towels in the hallway on a rather standard weekday, “I need an errand runner. Do you mind?”

You had been finding Alastor’s presence enjoyable, a little secret you held. He was always smiling, which made you smile in turn. And his manners, well, perfect. You couldn’t understand why such a sweet man was in hell, but then you considered you were also in hell. Mistakes happen, perhaps he was also damned by technicalities.

Not that you would ask him, you barely spoke a word to the deer demon. Every time he was around you your throat would close up. Oftentimes you would pull your hands behind your back to shield the wiggle of your too-honest tail.

When he would speak to you, you would get so focused on the sound of his voice and watching his mouth move you’d actually not hear a damn thing he said. You must have looked like an absolute airhead, always replying, “What?” every time he finished a statement.

“Hellooo, anyone home in there?” He knocked gently on your skull. Ah, those big hands again. He watched the pink bloom across your cheeks, your hands coming to your ears to pull them down as your mind wandered off. A snap of his fingers finally brought you back.

“Sorry, what?” Your eyes were bright as you finally made the journey all the way up to his face.

“Welcome back. I need some stuff picked up from a shop downtown. I can’t leave right now, mind hopping over for me?” The grin he offered you made you melt.

“Of course!” That damn tail shaking behind you, “What am I picking up?”

He waved his hand, “Not important, it’ll be all wrapped up and waiting.” The radio effect of his voice grew, “I’ll write down the address.”

Terrible handwriting. You could barely read it, but didn’t want to insult him so you just nodded as he followed you to the doors. Pausing, you realized it was your first time leaving the hotel alone.

“What’s wrong? Not up to it?”

You shook your head, “No! I can do it. Thank you.”

A pounding in your chest made you question if you were actually dead. But despite your concerns, no one bothered you beyond some catcalling and intense glares. Staring at the paper, you struggled to decipher the address. Was that a 7 or a 1? A 4 or a 9…? You were in the general area, the street name lined up and the first couple numbers of the address too.

You brought the paper closer to your face, maybe if you really inspected it you could figure it out.

A shriek, dropping the paper to felt a small goblin-like creature pushing at your knees. Another, then another, began to appear from the shadows of the street. Black and white little creatures pushing and pulling at your legs until you tumbled over.

“Help!” You thought it was a shout, but it came out as a soft spoken request, the tone itself adding a ‘please’ to the end.

They weren’t hurting you, just knocking you over every time you tried to stand up like grade school bullies. You managed, the creatures relenting momentarily before a stockier one materialized. A step back, what did they want? Money? You pulled out your wallet and opened it but the large one smacked it to the ground.

That quick heart skipped a beat when your back hit against something solid. As your head bent backwards, you could see those red and pink eyes looming over you.

“Oh dear. Trouble already?”

You could cry. You did cry, a little, at the sight of a familiar face. With a flourish of his hands, those previously unseen tendrils whipped from his back and flung the aimless attackers away.

Rescue! You hugged his waist, a chorus of ‘thank yous’ and ‘Oh, Alastor!’ into his chest.

“Now now, can’t even be a proper task rabbit. You really do need some safeguarding.” He peeled you off him, brushing his coat off. Your mind thought back to the offer. “And I don’t see my purchase… didn’t complete the task either?”

You shrunk, you’d entirely failed him. His smirk was one sided, eyes half lidded and expression dramatically disappointed. Alastor sighed and turned to walk away from you. You’d let him down. He’d been nothing but accommodating and gentle.

“I’m sorry! Alastor!” You grabbed his wrist, eyes shut so you didn’t see the green glow of arcane symbols floating up around him. “Can I please have that deal? Please. I’m sorry, you have my soul as payment.”

Painless, selling your soul. With a handshake, a little light show, and a whirling of magic, you had done it.

“Excellent choice!” Alastor patted your head, “I’ll come to your aid when you’re scared for your life! Aaaand in return, your soul is mine. Easy peasy, yes?”

Fine, not an issue in the slightest. “Do I need to do anything?”

“About what?” His eyes wandered to inspect his fingernails.

“My soul.”

A barking laugh, “No. You’re tied to me now, dear. As for my end, just call my name when you’re in danger and I’ll,” a flourish of his talons, “rescue you.” His smile strained as he peered down at your little face, “Why are you crying?”

“I’m so happy to have the help, thank you Alastor! You really are just, amazing. Your mother raised you right.” Your hands were holding your cheeks, grateful and feeling a little less alone.

The mention of his mother made his back straighten, a bloom in his chest he knew all too well to be pride. Finally, someone was vocalizing his better qualities. Well, other than Charlie. But impressing Charlie was like making a dog think you’d thrown a ball. Just a little quick whirl of your hands and a couple sweet words with a smile and she’d be all wagging tail as she ran to retrieve nothing.

But he supposed you were very much like Charlie, easily tricked and distracted. Had you really not noticed those goons were his? Or that the address wasn’t real? Were you stupid or naive? His head fell to the side unnaturally as he watched you talk. He wasn’t listening, though. He took in your features, slight but average. His hand came out absentmindedly and felt at one of your long and limp ears. He didn’t see you blush or caught how you stiffened.

Naive. Terribly naive.

Perfectly usable.

He dropped your ear and turned to leave. “I won’t rescue you twice in one day. Best to follow me home if you value your life.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You hadn’t told anyone about the deal, a secret for yourself to keep. Partly because you were embarrassed you needed the help, and partly because you had been warned extensively to not make a deal with the deer demon. Everyone had such a peculiar idea of Alastor, it seemed to you. Even after making a deal, he was still…Alastor. Always offering a joke, or playing something jaunty in the shared spaces. You could vent and whine and Alastor would hum as he read. Always offering a gentle pat to the head when you were sad or did something he liked.

So when Alastor suddenly left the group in a sweat, hands shaking and body rocking slightly side to side, you were quick to follow behind him. He bumped off the walls a couple of times before making it to his room and falling forward past the threshold.

You waited for the door to close before running down the hall and knocking.

“Are you alright?” You pressed your cheek against the wood and listened for any reply.

Alastor was still on the floor when you knocked, which worked out well. He leaned against the door, ears flat with his condition. He took a deep breath, voice dropping an octave and carrying easily to you, “Just— an out of season rut. Unexpected and unwelcome. Without any does nearby it’s quite odd.”

“Oh, are deer not like rabbits? Rabbit does are always in estrus! Mating actually triggers their ovulation. Neat, huh?” Silence, Alastor’s ears turned forward focusing on every other word.

Does, always, oestrus

Mating, triggers, ovulation

“I had pet rabbits when I was little. Isn’t that funny though? That they’re also called does.” You worried he thought you were weirdly interested in rabbit sex. “We had them as pets. So….,” a silence you misinterpreted as awkward.

Alastor tapped a long claw on the door before dragging it down the wood. A line was etched behind, “Is that so?”

You knelt down to get comfortable, “How long will it last?”

“Ah, hard to say. I've only suffered through a few. Alone, perhaps a week.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“With an appropriate partner, a deer demon would rut for two days. One for mating with his doe, one for guarding his doe from rivals who could still interfere with conception.”

His doe. You both found your throat running dry at the words.

You nodded, “Oh wow, I guess that’s why you always see bucks locked together in fights.”

“Precisely.”

“But...can sinners actually conceive?” You gulped, the idea was a little naughty to you. The entire conversation was actually making you uncomfortable. The kind of discomfort that made your breath pick up. The kind of discomfort that shifted to hunger with just a few words or a well placed look.

“No, but that doesn’t matter. Once fully in the hold of a rut or heat, demons aren’t motivated by logic.”

You nodded again, forgetting he couldn’t see you. “Oh okay…” the idea of Alastor rutting into his own hand desperate to fill a womb made your knees come together. “Must be hard for you. As an asexual.”

A hum, confusion breaking his creeping fog for a second, “A sexual what?”

“Nevermind.” You shook your head, shaking off the topic with the motion.

Alastor could smell your arousal wafting under the door. A feverish chill ran through him, drawing the fog back into the recesses of his mind.

“Well… I’ll let you rest. I know you can’t call me, so I’ll stop by to see if you need anything.”

His mouth opened to correct you— he could call you in a sense, and he didn’t need help as he had minions he could summon with a snap.

“That sounds lovely, what a helpful thing you are.” The words came out strained, his jaw tensing. How much longer could he hold out? The thinnest lie held in place that he’d suffer alone through the week. Already compromised by his errant shadow, flat against the carpet beneath your thighs.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Within hours Alastor was lying on the floor with his limbs splayed out. The sweating was the worst, not the heat. He could feel ticklish drops dripping down his stomach. His hair was sticking to his face, adding to the mounting overstimulation. Wet, hot, clothes clinging to his body like a second skin. A clawed hand pulled off his bow tie. His fingers shook too much to handle the tiny buttons of his shirt so he gave up and ripped it open.

It fell into a pile with the bow tie and soon his pants and socks joined. Sitting up on his elbows he looked down at his underwear, he wasn’t hard yet but he knew the smallest touch could trigger what could be days of painfully swollen erections.

He fell back to the floor with a huff, hands raking through his hair and gripping his ears a little rougher than he’d meant to. A gasp, red tipped talons feeling down his ears and slipping around his already growing antlers.

Alastor’s eyes rolled back, strong hands squeezing his prongs, tugging them forward as he imagined anyone riding him. Using his appendages as a handle while he bucked up into them. His hips were already moving, lower back rising off the carpet as he rolled his body up into the imaginary mate he despised his desperation for. His mind flicked through faces. Husk’s pained but satisfied expression, Vox’s tears as he whined, Carmilla’s lusty eyes paired with surrendered sighs. He lingered briefly on Angel’s smirk as his hands roamed down his chest and his thighs in tandem.

But through the darkness of his imagination he saw two watery and timid orbs, tears welling as eyebrows rose in confusion. Pleasure making the features soften. Soft. Soft velvet ears he could tug on in turn, a little bushy tail he could grip.

A doe.

The only doe he knew of in the hotel.

The radio on the writing desk flipped through channels, piecing together the sounds to form the words he was trying to forget, a magazine ransom note cut from sound bites.

....out the windows

....always and forever,

....in yesterday.

....rusty cage

May you never....

Hating how I....

....pull the trigger

....say you love me?

....congratulations

The relevant sounds spiked in volume, mocking him.

He walked to the radio and hurled it across the room. Aggression. Already he was losing himself to hellish biology.

A minor part of him didn’t want to use you. You always looked at him with such adoration, which he’d come to look forward to when others weren’t giving him adequate attention. You also seemed to genuinely see him as a friend, as much as he didn’t directly feed that idea.

But using people was how the world worked. Everyone was using someone. You had said how much you wanted to help… Alastor leaned on the desk with both hands and watched the sweat fall onto the wood and leather writing surface.

How was his body leaking from every pore but his mouth was so dry?

His shadow reached for the thrown radio, the light flickering on. That dark doppelgänger using a song to offer another piece of torment for him, ‘you ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine.’

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You had been speaking to Husk about what you could do to help prepare the bar for the weekend when a green light began to form around your neck.

“Did you— Did you make a deal with him?!” Husk dropped the dish rag, hands shooting to your shoulders, “Hold on! I’ll— fucking hell. Fuck!”

“Wait what’s wro-,” you were standing inside an unfamiliar room, just at the door, before you could figure out why Husk was panicking. Looking up, you locked eyes with Alastor. The room was dark, curtains drawn shut and ceiling lights off. A slight glow from a roaring blue fire to your left. His eyes were those familiar glowing red orbs in the darkness of his large canopy bed. “Oh, Alastor.” You finally noticed the third light source. A neon green large linked chain was wrapped around his fist. Following the squared interlocking pieces down the length of the bed, across the carpet and up as you looked down to find it ending on you.

Your hands touched your neck, feeling the cold metal of your collar.

Alastor took a deep breath in, a shaky exhale following.

Oh. You’d heard from Angel how his deal with his boss often materialized as a series of smoke rings linked and attached to him.

Before you could question it any further you were sliding across the floor, hands and feet struggling to find purchase as he reeled you toward the bed. Alastor lifted you by the glowing chain around your neck, evidence of the deal you so easily accepted.

“Can a deer breed a rabbit?” He mused, breath ragged as he struggled to remain in control of his impulses, “Doubtful. But I’ll give it my sincerest efforts, regardless.”

“Alastor-! You don’t want to do this, it’s just your rut.” You pulled back, legs kicking and piling up the blankets. It was fruitless.

He laughed, incorporeal radio studio audience joining along. You couldn’t stop from glancing at the straining fabric of his black boxers. Setting a small hand on his chest to better attempt to push away you gasped, “You’re burning up!” The fear of the moment left you entirely, replaced with deep concern.

He gripped your wrist with his free hand, not letting go of the chain in his right, “The fever is unbearable. My mind is slipping away.”

“Is this normal?!” Your hands came to his cheeks, his forehead, his neck. You remembered how your grandmother always checked your temperature, and pressed your lips to his sweat slicked brow. “You poor thing…”

When you pulled back you were met with the bright and blown out pupils of Alastor’s gaze. He was staring at your mouth, the green of his magical connection to you reflecting off his glossy eyes.

“Poor me.” He’d been sitting with loosely crossed legs but got on his knees. His face rose until he was looking down at you, hand now holding your chin, “You promised to help me.”

Your eyes were looking everywhere but his face.

His hand on you tightened, cheeks squished together as he pulled your head up, “Are you a liar?” Of course not. His hand made your head shake left to right.

The trembling of your hands was obvious to you both. A cruel laugh, “Do I scare you, little bunny rabbit?”

In life you weren’t popular. No one hated you, but, well, you never had much luck attracting the men all the women seemed to want. No one of power or consequence ever paid you any mind.

Alastor was scary. But were you scared? Someone strong wanted you. Someone people feared was saying you were good enough for them.

Tears welled in your eyes as you felt your tail wiggling side to side. Your body always betrayed you. Your own death had been the doing of your body’s inability to listen to you.

He couldn’t see the tail but the way your face screwed up in shame tipped him off. Letting go of your face, super heated finger pads slipped down your back. He slotted your tail between two fingers. There was no reason for it to be such an intimate action, but your entire body trembled.

Another deep sigh from Alastor, closing his fingers around the base and pulling gently. A test. Your head dropped to hide your reaction.

“Ah ah, eyes on me.”

He hummed happily as you did as you were told.

But the moment was cut short, you jumping when a rough knock came to the door.

“Alastor!” Vaggie was turning the knob despite knowing it was locked, “Is she in there? Open the fucking door.” A kick, a threat, “Now.”

“I’ll need your answer.” He leaned back onto the pillows piled behind him. Making a point, he lifted your chain and dropped it. It dissolved into nothingness before it could hit the bed.

“I’m here!” You said barely loud enough to be heard through the wooden door. Your eyes were drawn to Alastor’s lap as he pushed down his underwear to free his deep red cock.

His hand tenderly touched his base, hissing with the contact.

“For fuck’s sake Alastor!” Vaggie yelled, “You have three seconds to open this fucking door before I rip it off the hinges.”

Alastor’s head fell back with a moan, stifled as he bit down on his lip.

“One!”

As his fingers slid up his length and touched his leaking slit his entire body violently shook.

“Two!”

He opened his eyes just barely. You hadn’t noticed the antlers on his head were quite a few times larger than normal.

“I’m okay!” You shouted, the loudest noise you’d made since your death, but not the loudest you’d make by the end of the day.

Silence.

Mumbling.

Vaggie spoke up again, “Are you sure? Come out and talk to us first.”

His hand began stroking himself, precum spilling down. Something soft and fuzzy was settling over the front of your brain.

You scooted backwards off the bed, eyes staying on his lap. The light color of his inner thighs. The little bit of red and black tail you could see squished down under his ass.

“Hello!” You opened the door just enough to shove your head through. “Hi there gang.”

Husk’s arms were crossed and his foot tapping, “Are you really okay? No matter the deal he can’t fucking make you stay in there with him.”

While you weren’t sure that was actually true, it wasn’t an issue, “I wanna stay! He needs someone to watch his fever and-,”

A brief rush of cool air up your shirt before a hot mouth was pressing into the small of your back.

Vaggie’s eyes narrows, “and?”

“And! And. Yes.” Your eyes shut, “and take care of cleaning up after him.”

They shared a glance, “He can just make his little creatures do it.”

A surprisingly long tongue ran up your spine.

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Oh my god! No! I couldn’t let my friend,” you sucked your bottom lip in as his hands wrapped around your waist and undid the button of your pants, “rely on strangers.”

Husk sighed, “Alright, just… like, call us or something? If you need anything.”

You began to nod but the door was shut and locked by Alastor before you could reply.

₊✧˚﹕︶︶︶﹕૮₍ ⸝⸝´ ꒳ `⸝⸝ ₎ა﹕︶︶︶﹕ ˚✧₊

Your face hit the wall as you lost balance when he pulled down your pants and panties with one yank and buried his face into your crotch. His tongue licked at the wetness pooled at your entrance.

Any moans would probably still have been heard by the other two so you tried to keep quiet. Alastor didn’t seem to care though, growling into your skin.

The fever seemed it would spread skin to skin, but when he pulled away you found your body quickly cooling. Taking a moment to breath before turning back, you wondered if you’d made a great decision or a terrible one. When you turned, Alastor was settling back into his previous spot. “I could rip the rest off of you or you could undress yourself.” He wasn’t looking at you as he said it. You made quick work of removing your shirt and returning to the bed as you had before.

"Turn around."

You turned to face the door.

"On your hands and knees."

You paused briefly, but did so.

As you bent over, little tail high and trembling, Alastor’s clawed thumbs spread open your bottom lips. Perhaps it was embarrassment or just the nerves but you were twitching open and close.

You heard a low “Fuck” before the feeling of heat dripping onto you made you jerk forward. One of his hands came to your shoulder to hold you in place, the other kept your hole open as his seed continued to dribble down onto it.

He hadn’t been trying to cum, but his body was already responding to the opportunity before it; a breedable and submissive doe. His cock trigger-happy at the sight of your pussy, inside pink and clenching.

A tiny yelp as he fell over you, joining you in an all fours position but larger body caging yours between his limbs. He laughed again when the back of your head hit him square in the chest.

“You are uselessly small.” His body rumbled over you. “Clever girl to make a deal for protection.”

A burning stiffness slid down your folds. You could feel from even how little contact he made he was too big. Was it a bad time to tell him you’d only had the one partner on earth? A rather boring but sufficient sex life. If Alastor was hoping for a sex kitten he’d be deeply disappointed in you.

He hummed imagining dropping his weight and feeling you fruitlessly squirm under him.

“Mating triggers ovulation, I recall you said. I just need to fuck you into it, right sweetheart? Maybe if I do a good enough job,” his hands gripped the flesh of your ass, “your body will actually respond. Your belly will swell with the evidence of my virility.” Both hands slipped down your hips and came to nestle above your womb, tenderly caressing the protective layer of fat there, “could your little form handle it?” Little form? Not quite. But to him everyone was little. Claws leaving faint red marks as he dragged them up your ribs, around your sides and pressed your back down to get your chest into the bed and ass in the air.

A squeak, your legs flailing with what little motion they had as you turned your head, “Well that’s for actual rabbits not--.”

His hand came over your mouth, “Shhh, there's safety in the quiet. Don’t you know? We’re most vulnerable when we mate.” On the utterance of the word you’d been avoiding to even think about Alastor’s still hard cock squeezed its way into you. Your body was willing, but your pussy wasn’t ready to accommodate him. Not that your living partner had been small, but he wasn’t a seven foot tall rutting deer demon. And with height came a girth and length you’d not anticipated. You had seen it, yes, but that didn’t translate to much once Alastor was entering you.

His hips were snapping back as soon as he sank in. It frustrated him endlessly that he wasn’t trying to fuck you with such a lack of control. He couldn’t have been sure he’d have done it any differently had the circumstances been changed, but he liked to think he’d retained some skills over the long years alone.

The way he whined made him sound like a weak man, which he was in that moment. You wanted to call out his name, do the things you were used to doing during sex, but his hand was still over your mouth.

As if he heard your thoughts, his fingers spread open over your lips. Pinky under your chin to keep his hold on you.

“Alastor,” the tenor of your voice surprised you.

“Stick out your tongue.” He sounded far away, despite being right behind you. When you did as he instructed his hand shifted. Two long fingers went into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue. Immediately his fingers and your chin was dripping with drool. He whined again, louder, the noise growing into a growl as his speed began to pick up.

You could feel the thin flesh at the bottom of your entrance stinging as it was failing to stretch enough for him. It would have bothered you more but the way his burningly hot cock's head was pressing into your cervix was making your eyes lose focus.

Without ceremony, you felt a rush of heat deep in you. Your shins lifted from the bed as you squirmed, weak attempts to escape the deep press.

His hand left your mouth and you felt it working on the base of his cock that was not yet in you. He mumbled something, it sounded like an apology, before you felt him pop the rest of himself in. You choked on your scream, not knowing what he had put in you.

It throbbed, new and stronger spurts of his seed felt against an indescribable place.

A brave hand reached between your thighs and felt at the space between your bodies—- well, would have felt at that space. But there was none. You were flush against his lap. Your fingers slid down to feel taut balls pulled up into his body.

He shivered as you traced between them, checking neither were … inside you.

“I should have warned you, but my ability to speak wasn’t—,” he waved his hand around, “available.” You tried to pull away but found you both were locked together. “A knot. Not an accurate representation of a deer… and technically useless.”

That word meant nothing to you. “Is it normal?”

His thumb pressed at the virgin tight ring of muscle just above your pussy, you instinctively jerked away but just made yourself gasp as that large knot in you threatened to further tear you if you kept it up. “I don’t normally do it so early in a mated rut.”

You surrendered, trying to relax your upper body into the bed. “How do we get it out?”

A mocking chuckle, “It’ll deflate, so to speak, in a couple minutes. It’s just keeping my little doe in place while I finish filling her up.” He patted your ass.

It was mortifying to be suck in that position.

“Have you ever used this hole?” He rubbed some of your wetness up to your asshole.

Your tail lifted, “My boyfriend didn’t like anal.”

Alastor massaged around the puckered ring, “I didn’t ask if he used his.” Your head turned to look at him, shaking it ‘no’. You noticed his face looked less strained now, and that his finger didn’t feel like a fire was just under his skin. “Ah, well. I won’t need it today anyway.”

He didn’t see the bright blush that came over your face. He spoke so easily about the topic, a topic you’d never heard him speak on before. One you’d been told he had no interest in.

An error you made, assuming a lack of interest meant a lack of knowledge or experience.

When he finally could pull himself out of you, you felt a rush of warmth down your inner thighs. Looking under you, past your chest and between your legs, you saw the thick white semen escaping from your stretched entrance.

You’d never seen such an opaque release before. You wondered if it was a hint at his…potency. You wondered more what was happening in your body at that moment.

“Will it come out on its own or do I need to clean it?” Finally sitting up, your fingers felt the mess still dripping out of you.

Alastor leaned back onto his legs, ears turning in your direction as you asked, “Is this your first time? Your little boyfriend never finished in you?”

Crossing your arms, you turned to him, “Don’t be patronizing to him. And no, okay?”

He felt the heat rising from his gut again, cock twitching at every bit of the scene before him. Insolent body language, an attempt to scold him, and an admission. You watched him sit back up, a sudden reminder how much taller he was as darkened eyes looked down on you. The blue of the fire cast half of his face in shadows. “What’s this? My obedient doe wants to defend another man in my bed?”

Your hands nervously came to the ends of your ears, “I didn’t mean it like that.” A finger twirled, telling you to turn around. You hesitated. Did he want you to leave? He didn’t want to look at you? You hadn’t—, “I’m sorry.”

With a blink, his eyes were black. His fingers longer as parts of him seems to stretch between the joints. He twirled them again as his smile grew wicked.

Desperate to show him you hadn’t wanted to upset him, that you wanted to stay, you turned around. The fear of not knowing what he would do next was sending waves of electricity to your lap. You realized you hadn’t touched yourself yet, not that this was the time to start.

One by one, those freakishly long fingers curled around the small of your waist and lifted you off the bed. The tops of your feet were sliding across the dark maroon blankets beneath you both.

Your heart was pounding in your ears as he pulled you against him. He positioned you above his renewed erection, your legs opening a little in instinct.

Grateful now to be turned around, you let your face run the full range of feelings as they washed over you. Fear, arousal, anticipation.

“What a wasteful man.” He brought you down with a painfully slow speed, head just now meeting your sticky wet hole. “He never flooded your soft cunt?” He pressed in a little easier this time, but as you sank to take him all in you felt a sting where you’d slightly torn earlier. “When he dies, I’ll be sure to find him.” Cruel. “And make him watch me breed you.” You clenched, yet another betrayal by your body.

You were reduced to gasps as he stayed stock still and moved you on and off his cock. “Am I bigger than he is?” You could feel his breath against your back as you were lifted and brought back down again slowly.

You nodded. A terrible liar, you didn’t even try to fib.

He stopped with his head barely in you.

A squirm.

“I’m sure I just didn’t hear you. Try again.”

“Yes.” You were full again as he got his answer. A creaking sound you didn’t recognize startled you.

“Do I fuck you better than him?”

Ah you understood. Your hands held at his fingers digging into your body. “Yes.” Another creaking sound as he quickened your rise and fall.

Alastor’s antlers were wide and multi-pronged as your affirmations jostled around behind his eyes. Your ‘yes’ somehow made you tighter, wetter, hotter around him. His hips started moving again to meet yours. Perhaps he his dick grown a little during his shift to a more demonic form, or maybe you enjoyed the line of questions. All he knew was you were squeezing him like your body didn’t want him to ever pull out again.

Blood dripped from his lips as he cut his own skin, through gritted teeth a final question, “Do you want my fawns?”

Your legs pressed together, you knew there was only one answer and yet you asked yourself. Did you want that? To carry his children? A moan cut through your thinking, “Yes!”

The fire roared, a response to his own reaction.

Alastor felt his mind slip under again, noticing the wild way his shadow was dancing around the walls before his senses all dulled except touch.

The bed drifted away from under his knees and the walls melted like spent candles. Just sounds echoing off space as your moans deepened. As if learning, you began to whisper ‘yes’ to yourself as you felt a building pressure in your stomach.

Every thrust into you further separated your brain from your body. Your eyes lost focus as you watched the door bounce. No, wait, you were bouncing, right? Bouncing up and down the stiff rail of Alastor’s arousal. Your head fell forward, gasping as you felt him harden further while buried deep in you. He was going to cum again, you could feel it, you would feel it. The thought made your body shake as a pressure grew steadily in you.

Not a new sensation, but a different one.

“Louder,” another thinly veiled demand from Alastor that seemed to come from somewhere else entirely. Your eyes noticed a small light on the floor near the wall. A radio, buzzing with the same crackle as his voice.

“Yes,” you ground out, his hands were slippery with sweat as his nails dug in to ensure he didn’t lose his grip on you. “Yes, yes, yes.” He brought you down entirely and only let you off a little, an unspoken fear he would release too close to your entrance and he’d lose precious seed he needed your body to receive. “Yes! Alastor!” You weren’t sure who was talking now, as it surely couldn’t be you. You’d never —

“You’re better than him. You’re bigger and stronger and and he never —- he could never…”

He was suddenly regretting the position, unable to watch you fall apart as he so lovingly spread you open.

With a shriek, your back crashed into his chest as Alastor fell backward into his pillows. He didn’t miss a beat. He continued fucking up into you but let one hand reach your clit. When you whined, he breathed into your hair, “I need you to orgasm.” Other hand pressing down on your womb, “Many cultures believed a woman couldn’t get pregnant without finding her release first. Surely it’ll take. Cum for me my doe.”

You shook your head, “Alastor that isn’t possible.” Not that you were arguing against the way his finger was rubbing up and down on your swollen clit, you just felt the need to remind him of the obvious. Your eyes wandered up and back to see the hauntingly wide antlers now. His transformed face barely visible in the shadows.

“I thought you were a good girl.” His mouth kissed at the base of your ears, hand over your womb pressing in and exaggerating the feeling of his cock bulging from under your skin. “Darling,” he groaned, “Are you ready for my knot?”

You moaned at the words. No, of course not.

“Yes,” you got quiet, embarrassed again. Your hand snaked up and behind to hold his shoulder for stability.

“Relax,” he hissed, feeling your body tensing in anticipation.

You tried your best, but between his strumming finger and the sting still at your entrance you struggled to let things go limp.

This time you felt it growing beneath you. Alastor was ready as well, pushing it in before it was swollen so large he’d have to force it or just suffer with it outside.

Lubricated with the multiple loads already fucked into and then out of you, the knot pushed past your entrance with ease. But then you felt it expanding in you. Eyes crossing as they rolled back with the foreign sensation. It didn’t hurt, but a little alarm was going off in the back of your brain. How could something natural feel so unnatural? And how—

Your body locked up, muscles from thighs to neck tight. Alastor’s finger hadn’t stopped, and as the second knotted release flooded you with his feverish need, as his knot trapped every drop and forced it up past your cervix you tripped into your first orgasm. Different from your own hand and toys, the build up hadn’t been a slow ratcheting climb. No, you were rolling through waves of nearly pained pleasure. The spasming forced your body to feel him even more, pulling him deeper, triggering another wave to crash into you.

Alastor wanted to praise you, a rush of hormones and ego expanding his chest but the sensations had him so overwhelmed he was manually breathing. His hand didn’t want to stop, because then the way your pussy was positively sucking him in would also end. But your little cries and moans got increasingly choked and strained.

The calm briefly offered by knotting a mate during his rut came to your rescue, Alastor dragging a still barely moving finger up your body and going slack into the pillows.

Deep breaths, both of you fighting to slow them down. Alastor was experiencing another moment of clarity, only slightly upset he had doled out so much tenderness.

But for you, there was no deep fog of a heat to numb the sensations and let the more bothersome bits of consciousness turn off. Your mind was just as clear as normal. A little lusty, but nowhere near Alastor’s altered state. As you laid against his chest, waiting for him to be able to pull out, you could feel the pains and aches setting in.

Alastor summoned a minion, food set down on his desk under a silver cloche. Your eyes caught the black and white creature before it was whisked away.

Sitting up, you flinched but fought against the pain, “Alastor. What was that?”

His hands pulled you back down by the shoulders, skin on skin, “My minion. One of many.”

Exhausted, you could only sigh, “So, the errand.”

His hands went up defensively, “Oh come now, did you really think I was the good guy?” You didn’t reply. The silence began to bother him. Odd, given he usually didn’t give a fuck.

But he’d asked a lot of you, and you agreed willingly. You did as you were told. A little twinge of concern he had actually upset you wiggled between his ribs.

His hands slipped down your waist and settled over your stomach, “…Are you hungry? If you stay like this, I can help you eat.” You took a deep breath in, but didn’t even move to look at him. He squirmed ever so slightly, “I can only assume you’re… quite sore. Perhaps a bath? But I can’t guarantee we’ll make it out much cleaner than we are now.” His smile was smaller, just lips; no teeth. As his antlers withdrew and his limbs all returned to their proper places he could turn his head enough to look at your face.

Alastor felt relief wash over him to see you deeply asleep in his arms. It wasn’t a bad idea, to sleep before the next spell hit him and he was too far gone to think about baths or meals.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Alastor awoke in the dark. He found his hands and ankles tied behind his back, his body naked and sweating. He was on fire, pieces of himself lifting in the hot breeze and blowing away. He could feel his body fragmenting. You were just a little ways away and he tried desperately to reach out to you but as his eyes adjusted you were suddenly too far. If he could just get you to take a single piece of him, a shard of himself, he would live still. Even when the rest of him was dead and gone, he’d be alive in your hands. A raging stress, the fire now reaching his bones. It wasn’t too late. He still had time. Just a sliver of his existence was all he needed to get to you.

When you woke up, your body was at the foot of the bed. Looking over you saw Alastor lazily stroking his painfully hard erection. His gaze downcast, vision cloudy with unmet needs.

“Alastor?” With shaky arms you lifted yourself. You were hot. Was it the fire? No, before it had no heat. A little damp outline into the comforter formed where your body had been.

“You’re awake.” He reached over and grabbed your ankle, pulling you towards him and rolling you onto your back. Hand still around your ankle, he pulled your leg against his chest.

“Alastor.”

He sunk into you without hesitation, hips rolling into you roughly. Your body was rocking against the bed, wood creaking against wood with the steady force of his thrusts.

It felt good. Better than before, your walls felt soft and puffy around him. Alastor’s head was low, groaning every time he bottomed out. You could see just enough past him to watch the bed canopy swaying above you both before he folded you in half and leaned fully over you.

His eyes were unfocused like his mind, staring into the bed. A large palm at either side of your head, his back curved as he angled his hips to reach deeper yet.

“I’m so hot.” You were struggling to get the words out. It felt so good, the deeper in you he reached the more you seemed to be melting away.

Your hips were lifted off the mattress, held up entirely by his cock as he continued to rut into you. He could feel the fever in you rising.

Bent and tangled together, his head was nearly above yours. He was sweating, hair stuck down and ears folded back. A bead fell from his cheek and hit your forehead. He was working so hard. Such a strong man. A strong buck.

Something in you snapped. Something twisted and burned in your belly. You brought the other leg up to let yourself be folded in half completely, and his eyes wandered to your face. Your frontal cortex was just static as the lights were shutting off in most parts of your more human faculties.

Everything got quiet in you, a deep seated feeling of security creeping up your legs and sinking into your bones. With Alastor in you, nothing bad could happen to you. If you were carrying his offspring you’d be guaranteed a new level of protection. You needed it. You wouldn’t survive if you weren’t fucked and bred by the overlord.

How could your body be wrong when the feeling was so natural? So intensely confident?

“Alastor!” Your nails dug into biceps, hands clamoring up his arms to cling onto him, “breed me, please.”

He was caught alight, mind on ablaze with his raging fever. Your plea was a magnifying glass concentrating the sun into him and sparking a wildlife. Alastor was defenseless against the way your words affected him.

He could feel it, he could smell it, your heat triggered finally. His lips caught yours as his hands slipped up the blanket with how he had to contort to reach your mouth. You moaned into him, teeth on teeth as neither of you had any ability to finesse things.

“On your knees,” he instructed. You scrambled to turn around as he briefly left your body. A desperate whine in the seconds that stretched on, the emptiness unbearable. It hurt to have him anywhere but balls deep in you.

His hands slipped around your tail that still tried to swish side to side. When he tugged you gasped, the closest sensation you had was having your hair pulled. Chills ran up your spine. You nearly fell forward, but a strong hand wrapped around your neck and pulled your head back. He lined up, adjusting his legs wider to get down to your level.

“Are you feeling it?” He nipped at your shoulder, “Your heat?”

You pushed your ass back and pressed his tip into you. The sound that tore through your chest was answer enough for him as you tried your best to move along his length all on your own.

“You’re okay,” he squeezed lightly around your neck, pussy twitching around him as lightning snapped through you. “I’ll take care of you.”

Words that made your head spin. His body on yours felt like security. Everywhere his skin touched yours was a gulp of cold water in a drought.

A cliche, as he began to move again and his cock hit your g-spot every couple thrusts, you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. His fever was matched to yours, no heat exchanged as warm and wet flesh moved around warm and wet flesh. Was that your hand or his on your stomach? Both were searing, both soft and slick. One of your hands was reaching down to hold his arm for support.

Eyes slipping shut, you imagined this was what being high felt like. You were out of your body entirely, feeling his dick slipping in and out of you from a different plane of existence. There was a sense your mouth was moving but no awareness of what you were saying. Truly just babbling as Alastor’s speed hitched. A clawed hand on your hip cut into you as he pressed deeper with every thrust.

He guided you down onto your stomach, hand now resting on your right shoulder to keep you in place. You were entirely flat, his knees parting your legs so he could get flush against your core.

His knot was in place as he began to swell. You felt it again, him flooding your womb as he released directly into your twitching cervix. A euphoria filled you so totally you were sure you could feel the cells of your body humming.

Like a cool breeze had blown down, your fevers broke nearly immediately.

“Oh,” you squeaked, Alastor’s hand releasing you as he lied on top of you. The weight of him was oddly arousing as it gave a clear comparison of your smaller size. “I think you’re right. Estrus.”

He nodded, rolling you both onto your sides, “Would you like the good news or bad news first?”

Resting your head on his extended arm, you tried getting comfortable despite the sticky feeling of your skin and the burning in your thighs, “bad news.”

“You won’t be walking straight for days.” He said it with a heavy tone of pride.

“Oh geez…,” you could feel his knot still throbbing between your hips, “The good news?”

“Your heat is going to make me even more desperate to fill you,” his free hand ran down your sides and slipped between your legs to feel where you two were connected.

You turned your head the best you could, “That’s not good news, Alastor!”

He laughed, “I lied. Oh well!”

While the good news had been a lie, the way your body’s shift into meeting Alastor’s instincts upped his feral responses was not. You nibbled on fruit and bread and cured meats in the small windows the clouds around your humanity parted.

But when they’d roll back in, a tempest of feral wants crashing into you both, you’d find yourself clinging to the deer demon.

You could have had an apple in one hand and be mid bite when his musk would reach you and your grip would loosen. With just a moan and a lifting of your hips Alastor would be dragging you closer, crawling over your body, mounting you wherever you two happened to be.

It wasn’t that you’d become confident by the end of the day, but that you’d lost all semblance of shame and embarrassment.

When Alastor pulled you onto his lap and placed your hands on his peach fuzz covered antlers, you didn’t need verbal instructions. It took all of your arm span to reach them, so you held tightly as he thrust up into you. None of his noises had been as intoxicating as the ones he made when you were leaning over him and squeezing his prongs with every jostle of your womb. Perhaps he’d lost his shame too, loud and long moans the other residents had to have heard spilling from his open mouth.

The wet slap of your ass coming back down onto his thighs as he bounced you was barely registered. Head hung low to meet his black engulfed eyes, you didn’t notice his smile was gone for the first time since you’d met him. Pinhole red pupils were locked on your face and imperceptibly roamed around your lust filled expression.

One hand reached up and rubbed the soft skin of your downturn rabbit’s ears between his thumb and index finger. Soft. Velvet.

A sensation that was wholly pleasant, not sexual in any nature but feeding the comfort provided by Alastor’s cock buried to the hilt. He wanted to enjoy the smile it gave you but he could feel his orgasm climbing exponentially.

There it was again, the darkness of your combined heat and rut slinking in. Body to body, your own sounds harmonizing with his and losing distinction. “Alastor–,” eyes drifting shut, “Please. I feel empty.” His previous loads dripping down your thighs, then down his own, and soaking into the carpet. “Fill me up. Please, can you breed me?”

His hand pulled down on your ear, “That was never in question.”

You let go of his extended prongs, arching your back to take a kiss. More. His tongue in your mouth, another hole full of Alastor. His hands both reunited on your ass and used the flesh there like handles. He fucked up into you, withholding the growing at his base, until he felt you cumming around him again. As your body sucked him in with rolling spasms, he pressed you down on his upthrust. A pained moan as it was pushed in a little late.

Lightning behind your eyelids, your mouths hanging open and pressed together.

Both of you a pile on the floor, a cold blue flame and soft music playing from the still broken radio. Uncharacteristically, Alastor’s arms wrapped around your smaller form and clung to you. The sensations were popping up one by one. Sticky skin, sweat rolling down your face, hair sticking to your neck and forehead. You’d have to peel each other apart. Which you did, eventually. When Alastor could pull out, he followed through on the bath he’d been thinking about.

You protested, reminding him you’d be soaking the floor with displaced bath water as soon as the next urge to mate came around. But he laughed, smile back in place as if it had never left, “Sweetheart if I do my job right you won’t even realize you’re not in bed until you’re knotted and knocked up.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

He hadn’t been lying about the protective second day. But what he hadn’t anticipated was just how long that aggressive desire to keep others at a distance from you would last. While your deal had been in place for a little while before his rut, it wasn’t until after your time together in his room that it seemed to ever be used.

But you didn’t need to call out for him, like he had said. No, anytime someone even looked at you with a nasty thought, you were graced with his presence. Most people figured it out quickly enough, but occasionally new and brave idiots would approach you with trouble.

So when a tall and imposing creature cornered you in a shop, hand holding something sharp and shiny and asked, “Scared, little hare?", you could only smile as your face was lit up by a green glow and offer a little advice, “No, but you should be.”

deleted scene ˗ˏˋ Masterlist ˎˊ˗

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , , @tiredkiwiii @ilikemyteawithmilk @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , , @fizzled-phoenix , @phobophobular , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk

#alastor x reader smut #alastor smut #alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel x reader #fanfiction #the radio demon #hazbin hotel fic

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kedreeva · 5 months ago

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A couple months back, my neighbor wanted to get some Spitzhauben hatching eggs for his wife, so he asked me for help finding some good ones, from a good breeder. So I dug around for a bit, since Spitz are a bit of a rare breed, and found a few options that looked decent. One of them happened to be in Michigan with us, maybe a little over an hour from us, so I arranged to go pick them up in person to avoid the stresses of shipping on the eggs.

I picked up a dozen (baker's dozen, she added a few extra just in case), and a half dozen of the Marans eggs for myself (she gave me a discount because fertility hadn't been tested yet, as long as I promised to report growth/hatch rate and update about what comes out) because she claimed to have good quality and her eggs looked to be decent quality. She was really nice, very chatty, and the eggs looked great in person, too.

12 of the spitz eggs hatched, and 3 of the BCM. The BCM chicks looked great but they were being stressed OUT by the quail chicks they were in with, so I snuck them into the brooder with the spitz when I closed up the neighbor's birds one evening while they were out.

I've visited them a few times since, and they've been looking good, but they're finally to an age where on the BCM you can tell sex- perfect ratio, one rooster, two hens.

Now, I used to keep and breed BCM a long time ago. I had wanted to get into showing (never got around to it for several reasons), and I'd dealt with several lines. My original line that I'd mixed from a couple different people always produced REALLY stellar roosters- big lads with sweet, docile personalities that were 100% ready to die for their ladies, whom they always treated well. For roosters, those are all REALLY important qualities. The ideal is a rooster that treats his ladies well, is willing to fight to the death to defend them if something comes after them BUT--- importantly can tell the difference between a predator and a human who is messing with the hens (picking up, moving, treating w/ meds, whatever). Ideally, if a hen makes a noise of distress, the rooster come BOLTING to her at top fucking speed ready to kick ass, but stops dead if he sees it's just a human. And I HAD that- I used to sell the roosters to folks (SELL them, I never had to give away a rooster) as flock protectors, and I would get people coming back to buy another after their guy died defending the girls while free ranging. It's sad, but it's also one of two reasons to have a rooster.

And I see all the time people posting about their mean roosters, about how to handle roosters that are mean to humans, or people telling others oh the rooster is just young and roosters are mean when they're young and they'll mellow out when they get older, just keep putting up with it. Power through.

NO! There is almost* NEVER a reason to tolerate a nasty rooster- one that's mean to the girls, or to humans. This BCM rooster is only a few months old, but you can already see the purpose that's been bred into him. I picked up one of his girls and she went :( and he came RUNNING over to see what was wrong, looked me up and down and went nah that's cool, and then checked on all the other girls. Just in case. I went to move them from their cage to the big play pen that's set up for them, and I thought oh this is going to be a circus, trying to catch them all. The Spitzhauben were acting insane, like I was trying to kill them by looking at them. I braced the carry bin on the edge of the door, expecting to reach in to (try to) grab each bird and put them in. But no. This rooster walked over, got in, called the others, and they all chilled right out, came over and jumped into the bin with him. He's in the playpen right now just watching over all the others. If someone gets into an argument, he runs over and gets between them, and then checks on them both after. When he lies down, the others come lie down with him. On him.

THIS is what a good rooster looks like. Not in a year, not in two years. Right from the getgo, the instincts are all there. Hormones shouldn't eliminate/supercede this behavior- they shouldn't turn a bird into an asshole. They should instigate a second set of rooster behaviors- dancing/courting, tidbitting, and mating attempts. Running girls ragged, pulling feathers, causing injury, attacking people- these are all poor breeding and/or handling problems. These are things that can (and SHOULD) be selected against when breeding fowl

*The "almost" never is that a breeder starting out may not have a choice when it comes to shitty personalities- they may find themselves having to tolerate the least shitty for a few generations, until the personalities show improvement. In this case, most (good) breeders know better than to dump the wash outs on the unsuspecting, and will instead do hard culls for food or sell to folks raising food or who are aware of the personality problems. In any case any tolerance should be an in-progress tolerance, not an endgame result.

#chickens #BCM #my pets #well sort of

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wendichester · 2 months ago

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Hey Hun. I'm sorry for being a greedy little lady and asking for another request. I know I say it a lot but I love your drabbles and fics so so much.

I was wondering if maybe you could write a little drabble thing where the reader and Sam are super close and clearly have it so bad for each other, like really really bad. But they're both too shy to confront one another about how they feel, even though deep down they know how the others feels. And Dean's watching it all from the outside, seeing how they dance around each other's feelings. I like to think Dean would tease them relentlessly. Calling them an "old married couple" and just telling them to get on with it and do something about their feelings basically lol.

Sorry again for asking, as always there's absolutely no pressure if you're filled up with requests or don't feel up to it. Hope you have an amazing day my sweet 💗

⋆˚✿˖° when it's real, it's real,

summary. it's painfully obvious how you and sam are so into each other

pairing. sam winchester x reader ft. dean genre. extra fluff

wordcount. 877

notes / warnings. thank you so much for requesting this sweets! love you 🩷

Dean Winchester has had enough.

He’s spent the last few weeks watching you and Sam, watching the way you both practically glow when you’re near each other. The way your eyes follow him around the room, the way you both share little inside jokes that leave the other person just a little bit lost. Dean can see it. Hell, anyone can.

But neither of you can seem to make a move.

“Alright, seriously. I can’t take it anymore.” Dean slams a beer down on the table in front of you two, his voice too loud and too amused, and you both freeze like a couple of deer caught in the headlights.

You try to ignore him, but your cheeks betray you, flushing the exact shade of embarrassment that’s been simmering between you and Sam for months now. You glance at Sam—who’s equally flustered, his hands fumbling with his drink like he’s trying to figure out how to hold it without making it obvious he’s shaking.

“Dean, knock it off,” Sam mutters, but there’s no heat behind it.

Dean smirks, sitting down on the other side of the table, practically leaning across it. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m just concerned about my little brother here. You two are acting like a damn old married couple and neither one of you’s doing anything about it.”

You choke on your sip of water, coughing awkwardly, and Sam’s eyes widen for a second before his face turns an impressive shade of red. Dean notices it, of course, and raises an eyebrow.

“I mean, really,” Dean continues, giving you both a pointed look, “you guys can’t even sit in the same room without basically smoldering at each other. It’s like watching two people who are already in love but are too shy to do anything about it.”

Sam slouches in his seat, his hand running over his face in frustration. “Dean, we’re not—”

“Oh please,” Dean interrupts, cutting him off with a mocking tone, “Not in love, huh? Tell that to the way you both stare at each other when you think the other one isn’t looking. Tell me again how you ‘don’t feel anything’ when you can’t stop smiling when they’re around. I mean, come on, guys. The only thing more obvious than you two is the fact that you’re both too damn shy to admit it.”

You feel like your heart is about to beat right out of your chest. You shift in your seat, looking down at your hands, trying not to make eye contact with either of them. You’re not sure who you’re more embarrassed for—yourself or Sam. But the tension in the room is so thick now that it’s almost suffocating.

“I mean, damn,” Dean says with a theatrical sigh, “I’m not one for love advice, but if you two don’t figure it out soon, I swear I’m gonna start writing you love letters myself.”

Your eyes dart to Sam, catching him already staring at you, his gaze soft but heavy. You swear your heart stumbles in your chest, and your stomach flutters like it always does when he looks at you like that.

“You really think that?” you whisper, unable to help the curiosity in your voice. It’s the first time you’ve actually said something directly related to how you feel.

Sam looks at you, and in that moment, everything shifts. His gaze softens even more, his hand reaching across the table to rest gently on yours.

“Yeah,” he says, voice a little hoarse. “I’ve… been thinking about it a lot, actually. I think about you all the time, and I—”

Dean’s dramatic cough interrupts him, and you both turn, startled, to find him with his hands dramatically over his eyes, faking a gag.

“Good lord, you two,” he mutters. “It’s like watching a soap opera. Just kiss already and get it over with.”

Your face is on fire now, but the warmth of Sam’s hand on yours makes it feel like it might just be the sweetest burn.

Sam’s gaze flickers between you and Dean, a slight smile curling on his lips. “Maybe he’s right,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe we should… do something about it.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Like what?” you ask, your voice barely a breath.

Sam takes a deep breath, like he’s summoning the courage. Then, without saying another word, he leans across the table, closing the space between you two.

The kiss is soft at first, like a spark in the dark, gentle and slow as if he’s testing the waters. But when your fingers slip into his hair, tugging him closer, it’s like everything that’s been building up for so long finally clicks into place.

Dean’s groan from across the room is muffled by his hands, but it’s the only sound in the world that can make you and Sam break away, laughing softly, your foreheads touching.

“You better get used to the idea of it, Dean,” Sam chuckles.

“Yeah,” you say, grinning at him. “Because this is really happening.”

Dean mutters something under his breath, and you swear you hear him say something like, “Finally,” before he walks out of the room, leaving you and Sam alone in the quiet, the tension between you finally—finally—broken.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester fic #supernatural #.docx #.req

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amywritesthings · 11 months ago

Text

press four for more options. | part three.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - smut, alternate universe (modern), sex work, phone sex, dirty talk, dom!levi, light dom/sub, guided masturbation, edging, pet names, sex toys, multiple orgasms, mentions of body image Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. / part four. | masterlist

“Hel-lo, is the idiot in the room still with us?”

A slender hand waves back and forth, back and forth, until you awake from your everlasting daydream.

Annie Leonhart sits across from you at your favorite coffee shop looking like the cat that caught the canary.

That knowing smirk hasn’t left her face since she sat down.

Curling her fingers, she pulls her arm and returns her hand to join the other under her chin once she’s finally caught your attention.

The small blonde squints her icy blue eyes, observing, deciding on what you’ll say before you launch your defense.

“That good, huh?”

Embarrassment is your first folly.

"I— What?!”

“I know a blissful climax cloud when I see one.”

“Annie.”

Sometimes Annie could be an ass, too smug for her own good, but she was a fiercely loyal friend and colleague.

Everything is meant in jest — at least, to you. Not many others got to avoid her wrath.

You lean over the table, reaching your hand out to cover her mouth.

She manages to duck your advances, expertly so, and rears her head with a small chuckle.

“Relax, no one’s listening,” she chides.

“That’s not true,” you argue under your breath. “It's a small shop. You know the vultures circle this place.”

“Not since the old thirsties got busted for their smutty book club — which, quite frankly, I resent losing.”

"You resent?" you repeat, mirroring her squint. “But you never ended up joining the old lady book club.”

“Mm, I didn’t,” Annie agrees, picking up her coffee cup to sip leisurely. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t listen. I looked up a couple of those titles for myself. In retrospect, they had good taste.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead.”

She pauses, setting the cup back on the table.

“So… are you going to make me work for the details, or what?” she finally leads, getting to the point while you skate around it with imaginary triple axels. “Did you call again after Friday?”

You did.

In fact, you've called several times — almost every night since last Friday with the exception of Tuesday, since you’d fallen asleep as soon as you hit the couch after working overtime.

It’s now another Friday afternoon, one week from the first time you’d called the hotline, and you’re wondering what constitutes bordering on addiction.

“I have,” you confirm.

“That’s all you’re going to say?” she chastises with a grimace. “Boo — tomato, tomato.”

“What?! What did you want me to say?”

“For starters, who the guy is.”

“Not happening.”

“Loser.” A beat passes. “But it’s not Bert?”

You shake your head vehemently.

“Definitely not Bert.”

“Thank god,” she exhales. “I like you, but I don’t know if I like you enough to be calling up the same dude to get our rocks off.”

“Jesus, Annie.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a prude.”

You pick up your own tea, sliding it across the table before taking a tentative sip.

“I don’t know how you freely talk about this like we’re trying out restaurants.”

“Because it’s not real?” she suggests, and your stomach flip-flops.

You know it isn’t.

It’s a job.

It’s his job.

“I don’t know,” Annie continues, sitting back against her chair with her arm draped across the curve. “It’s no strings attached and hot. I’ll never meet Bert, and he’ll never meet me, and it isn’t like he’s going to ask to hold my hand and beg me to meet his mom.”

“You’re such a commitment-phobe,” you comment with the roll of your eyes. “You won’t ever meet anyone’s mom.”

“Yeah, because I’m not a psycho,” she replies with a snort. “I take it you went premium?”

You nod once. “Levi suggested it.”

Her eyes widen, delighted, and you scowl at your own stupidity.

“Levi?”

Ah.

Fuck.

"Wait." You sit up taller. “Don’t—”

“Oh, that’s a hot name.”

“Annie, I swear to—”

She sours to herself. “Damn, that’s so much hotter than moaning Bert.”

The tea in your cup bubbles from your chortled breath.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, not my favorite name ever, but that’s fine — because it’s more like he’s moaning Annie.”

Paired with a wicked grin, your friend winks at you.

“We have two very different wants.”

You squint, and her grin widens. “Wait, do you—”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh my god, Annie.”

“What?!” she chirps with a chuckle. “You like the bossy ones, I like being the boss. You’re not allowed to kink shame me. We’re in this shit together.”

“Who said I like being bossed around?!”

She points her finger at your facedown phone.

“Porco Galliard bosses people around. I’m not stupid. And you scream ‘I don’t like being assertive’.”

Great.

The same observation Levi made over the phone without ever meeting you in person.

“Whatever, that isn’t the point,” you wave off, deciding to try and swerve the subject. “I wanted to ask: how many times do you call a week?”

Annie presses the tip of her tongue against her cheek as she considers.

“A week? Maybe two, three at most. It used to be a hell of a lot more, but I’m working a lot of late nights.”

“When you say ‘a hell of a lot more’, do you mean—?”

“Daily?” she finishes for you then tries to recall. “Why? Are you daily right now?”

You hate yourself for a second.

“Sort of? It’s only been a few days, but—”

“Hey, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She reassures in that randomly serious way Annie can pull on a rare occasion.

Making fun of people might be her favorite pastime, but if she can sense true withdrawal from her friends, then she’s quick to stop.

The blonde reaches over the table to pat your hand, but it’s hardly a comfort.

Annie is about as comforting as raw-dog wearing a hand-knitted sweater by an amateur: it's itchy, too tight, and you want it to stop immediately.

“You’re a grown woman with grown woman money. If guys can go get blue balled at the strip club, then why can’t we call a hot guy over the phone?”

Again: not comforting at all.

With reluctance, you nod.

“You have a point.”

“I know I have a point.”

“Then again, I don’t know how long term this fix can be,” you reason. “It’s very expensive.”

“Yeah, but you know what’s more expensive?” Annie retorts. “Hooking up with a stranger at a bar who’s abysmal in bed. Maybe not so much for your wallet, but definitely for your ego.”

“And your sanity,” you agree, “if they’re weird.”

“Or a creep.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“A weird creep that happens to be a serial killer.”

You both give each other a look, an unspoken conversation of two delusional women saying ‘exactly’ in a singular gesture, as you sync the sips of your drinks.

— —

“Do you ever — ha — use to — oh — ys?”

You’re not sure why you’re so chatty with your rabbit vibrator barely hovering over the hood of your clit.

A week ago, you would've been trying to smother yourself with a pillow for talking.

However, with each night you’ve called Levi, the more comfortable you’ve become.

More bold, if openly using toys tells him anything.

The avalanche that brought you here was quite swift.

Traffic lights no longer remind you of the cars on the road but the man waiting for you on this hotline.

A willing striptease; a compliance to do what you wish but let him take the lead.

All you had to say was ‘my hand’s getting tired’ during an edging session.

All Levi had to reply with was ‘if you had a toy, I’d allow you to tag it in’.

Allow.

Like you’re completely under his spell.

Like you couldn’t have been using one from the get-go, but you listened.

You said you did.

He said grab it.

(God, you always listen.)

Now you’re here, legs spread in the center of your bed with your phone sitting between the valley of your breasts as you talk to him through the speaker.

“I am right now,” Levi replies in that diplomatic way of his, the lift of his voice telling: he’s amused by the way you try to speak to him, even when you’re ready to scream with impatience.

“I meant on yourself,” you exhale shakily.

“On myself?”

“Like on c-calls,” you stammer, forcing yourself to focus.

He loves when you lose your mind.

You refuse to cave so fast tonight.

“A mystery for another day,” he teases, before adding in a firmer tone: “You earned it. Touch it to your clit, but don’t go inside yet. I want you wet and ready for me, understand?”

“You’re so mean.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he softens for just a moment. “And don’t talk back.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you joke, before pressing the device against your clit.

The vibrations surge pleasure down your legs, causing your toes to curl.

You’re not sure if it’s the ‘sir’ or the moan you emit that makes him groan in return.

“The answer is no,” he finally states.

For a second, you think you did something wrong.

Then you circle back, remembering what you asked in the first place.

Right.

The toys question.

“You don’t?”

“Not on me, no.” He exhales, slow and steady. “Too busy making sure I’m hitting the script.”

That’s the funny thing about these calls:

The fourth wall?

Broken.

He doesn’t pretend to be your boyfriend for the night, just as you don’t pretend he’s only yours.

You’re aware he’s a sex worker, just as he seems to open up about his profession when speaking to you.

At first Levi wouldn’t — it was meant to be a fantasy — but each night he’s divulged more.

Like how he used to be in the military. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he has an affinity for tea, going so far as to have a mild cup with you after a session in lieu of a cigarette. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he’s a Capricorn. (Unrelated to sex — kind of.)

In the midst of learning about him, you’ve learned about yourself.

You’re less vanilla than you originally thought.

With Porco, things felt regimented.

Scheduled.

You weren’t willing to open up your heart, much less your legs, because he was too cold behind closed doors.

Focused.

Driven to his work and passions.

Levi, on the other hand, will suggest leaning against the wall with your hand in your underwear, eyes forced to watch yourself in your full-length mirror.

To worship yourself, when he can’t.

To pump your fingers into your weeping core, when he can’t.

To give over complete and utter control with the promise that you’ll come as many times as he asks you to, because if he could be in this very room — this very apartment — he’d easily do it himself.

With Levi, you’re bold.

With Levi, you’re in.

So you’re not shy to arch your back, moaning into the receiver when you feel your first orgasm approaching you like the incoming tide.

“Levi,” you whimper his name, “can I—”

“Shit, baby, you know you can,” he practically purrs, already knowing what you’re going to ask. “C’mon. Let me hear that pretty little voice of yours, huh? Just for me?”

“Just for—”

The last word is garbled by the way your teeth clench, legs snapping together as the first climax hits after a relentless twenty-minute edging session.

It’s unreal.

It’s pain.

It’s bliss.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

(Freedom.)

You pant, pulling the vibrator away from your body for a moment to catch your breath.

You hear him hum with approval on the other end, a low rumble against your chest.

“That’s a good girl,” he says after a beat. “Feeling better?”

“So much,” you confess breathlessly.

“You sound better.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Didn’t do much.”

“Oh shut up,” you scowl before laughing.

Turning off the toy for a momentary reprieve, you allow yourself to catch your breath as you grin up at the ceiling.

“Always so goddamn modest.”

“You’re one to talk,” he scoffs, shifting on the other end of the line. “Can’t take a damn compliment to save your life.”

You make a face like he can see you in the dark, but you decide to continue the conversation.

That’s a new thing the two of you have picked up — talking.

Lots of talking.

You get off, sure, but he knows your work drama, your chore schedule — your mailmen even have the same first name, funnily enough.

“I’m serious, though,” you exhale. “Do you ever like… get off? Without toys, obviously.”

“During a call?” he clarifies, and you nod. He answers like he can see it. “No, not — not typically.”

“Wow, so you’ve faked an orgasm with me,” you tease with a blissed out snort. “Shame, shame, I know your name.”

“I what?”

“Faked it,” you clarify, fluffing your pillows behind your head as you situate yourself on your bed. “As if I don’t hear you breathing all heavy and shit over there.”

Then something unusual happens.

The man grows quiet on the other side.

Nothing shuffles.

No huffs or ‘tchs’.

Just… silence.

“Levi?” you ask, brows knit.

A beat passes, but he answers.

“Yeah?”

“Are you good over there?”

“I— yeah, fine,” he clears his throat.

Uh-oh.

You frown immediately, blinking twice. “Sorry, was that a weird question?”

“Not at all,” he clarifies, gruff this time, “just… I said not typically, not never.”

…oh.

Oh.

Suddenly you abandon the rabbit and sit up in bed, eyes as wide as saucers.

“Wait.”

“Scarlet.”

“No, did you actually—”

“I already said too much.”

“No, wait, you can’t just imply that you’ve gotten off with me then abandon ship here, Levi!”

“I’m not abandoning ship — why do you say such weird shit sometimes?”

“How many times?!” you yelp.

“I’m not answering that.”

“Holy shit,” you exhale, “I’m so mad I didn’t pay attention.”

It’s like you can hear Levi squinting, narrowing his eyes with uncertainty on the other end of the phone. “...why would you be mad?”

“Because maybe I want to hear you get off, too?” you suggest simply.

Another agonizing breath of silence.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you place your phone on your sheets and pick up the vibrator, contemplating your next move.

“Because I would totally love to just… I don’t know, make you moan, too? See what you taste like? Feel you lose control, pull my hair, hold my head down while I wrap my lips around—”

“Baby.”

Two syllables shoot out of his mouth, as if overwhelmed with shock.

Huh.

An Uno reverse in your favor.

You’re no Shakespeare, but what you say is as honest as words can possibly be.

“I picture you all the time,” you confess softly, pressing the rabbit vibrator’s first function.

A low rumble begins, and you guide it between your legs.

You’re already soaked from your session.

There will be little give to the toy.

“When we’re not on the phone together, I wonder what it would be like. I could be at work. I could be at a coffee shop. Like, holy shit, I was meeting with a friend today and all I could think of is how badly I’d love to just take you to it — maybe disappear in the back hall, find a bathroom? I’d bend over a sink. I don’t wear skirts all the time, but I’d wear one for you.”

You hear shifting on the other end of the line, but Levi is deathly silent.

Mindlessly, your hand takes hold of the vibrator and you press against your entrance.

With a tiny whimper, you push in, deliciously enveloped in a sea of vibrations.

“You wouldn’t need to wear a skirt.”

Suddenly his voice appears, and you accidentally push the vibrator further in, causing a strangled moan to exit your mouth.

“Le—”

“Pants are just as easy,” Levi cuts you off, a thread of a whisper. “Couldn’t take that much effort. Wouldn’t give a shit if anyone saw your damn clothes at your ankles.”

Suddenly the room burns.

“I just know you’d fill me up so good,” you whine, and there’s a sharp hiss on the other end.

“Jesus Christ.”

There.

You hear it: the waver in his voice.

“Yeah, baby,” he concedes. “I’d fill you so fucking good.”

You whimper, a pathetic little noise at the base of your throat, and he exhales a large breath — as if he’s been holding back this entire time.

“Promise?”

“When have I ever led you astray?” he challenges, a bit more strained now.

It’s the hottest thing you've ever heard.

“I wanna make you feel so good,” you breathe, ragged and wrecked, and there’s a small groan on the other end of the line.

“You already do, baby.”

“Not how I want to,” you argue in return, body pulsating with the growing need to release a second. “You’re so good at making me cum, but all I want is to take it how you want me — bend me over and fill me up, push me to my knees and stick my tongue out—”

“Fuck,” he curses sharply. “You’re so good for me. So, so fucking good, not fuckin’ fair.”

“Wanna cum with you.”

He groans, louder this time, and inhales the most deliciously jagged breath you’ve ever heard.

“Right there, baby,” he forces out. “C’mon. Give me one more. Just one more.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You purposefully bite your tongue when you come a second time, squeezing your eyes shut with all of your senses focused solely on your ears.

A grunt, as if he’s holding back just the same before exhaling, slow and languid.

In your mind’s eye, you see it: how he uses his teeth to hold up his t-shirt, painting his abdomen with streaks of white as he holds himself back from climaxing too loud. His whole body trembles. He squeezes the tip, milking himself for all he’s worth.

Pulling the vibrator from your body, you turn it off and toss it elsewhere on your bed. Your body curls around your phone, trying to stay quiet so you can listen.

Shaky.

Exhausted.

Not typically, not never.

You say nothing, can’t, but a small giggle of euphoria emits from your throat.

Surprisingly, Levi chuckles back with that drugged slowness that comes with exhaustion.

“You’re too damn giddy after two orgasms,” he chastises, which only makes you laugh harder.

“Uh-huh, Huff ‘n Puff,” you tease right back, and he tsk’s right against the phone.

And in your heart, you know—

Know you’re in deep shit.

Know that you like Levi, even if it’s impossible to like a stranger.

Maybe when you get this month’s credit card bill, you’ll sober up from your crush.

But not right now.

Just not right now.

— —

The next morning, you’re up bright and early.

Skip the elevator to the apartment lobby.

Walk down the stairs to kickstart your adrenaline.

Skip the coffee at the local shop.

Choose a small cup of chai instead.

By the time you make it to the gym, you’re more ready than you ever have been in your life to take on the day.

— —

Forty-five minutes later, your sweat even has sweat.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, the endorphins from a tough workout only make you feel that more excited to get your shit together. To be more mindful of your time.

(Totally not because your last call with Levi was unreal. Nope.)

Overall, you went from hating your life to — well, this.

Whatever this is.

Owning your self agency and worth after a pitiful breakup?

Unfortunately joining this gym had been Porco’s idea — he’s a treadmill hamster, and you got swindled by the sea of abs under his tank tops.

A ‘couples activity’, whatever that meant.

(Being sweaty and tired without an orgasm to finish it off never did feel rewarding.)

After the breakup you considered trying to get out of your 6-month contract, but Porco dipped first.

He joined Pieck’s crossfit endeavor somewhere else in the city, leaving you and this dingy little gym to commiserate together.

Now?

Now, you excitedly get ready in the morning to the gym — not to get thin or look a certain way to appease anyone else. A revenge body is bonafide stupid.

No — you don’t want to be anything but stronger.

Because Levi would probably think it was hot if you were stronger.

Maybe the next time you call, he’ll be impressed that you’ve taken to strength training.

Maybe he’ll give you some pointers — one more topic of conversation to be had.

Setting down the free weights back on the rack after a thorough cleaning of the equipment, you step out of the way of the other regulars gearing up for their workout and head towards the locker rooms to shower.

In the small pocket of your leggings, you hear your phone vibrate.

Digging your hand in to fish it out, you see a familiar name on your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Yo [A. LEONHART]: We’re all going out Tuesday for drinks – u in?

All.

All means the department.

All might mean Porco and Pieck.

Annie must sense your apprehension, before adding:

[A. LEONHART]: Porky probs not going, Pieck’s got a family thing

Well, that’s two positives.

[ME]: I’ll think about it. [A. LEONHART]: Think about it????

[A. LEONHART]: 🍅🍅🍅

Her and her fucking tomatoes.

You snort and begin to write back—

But not before accidentally slamming chest to chest into a stranger.

The phone flies out of your hand like a bar of wet soap.

Like a Scooby Doo short, it alley-oops to the sky then smashes down against the black-speckled rubber gym floor.

Before you can even react, the person you’d bumped into is bending to crouch on the floor.

“Shit. My fault.”

Every cell in your body freezes.

Time ceases to exist.

They scoop your phone into their hand, flipping it over checking for damage.

Luckily, the screen is intact.

No fall damage.

But that isn’t why you’re frozen.

As they rise to full stance, your eyes are still downcast.

From their sneakers your eyes crawl up, up, up — noticing the basketball shorts that cut just above the knee with compression under armor peeking beneath.

On his torso is an emerald green tank top, clinging to his flexing abs, the fabric speckled with sweat.

His collarbones are defined; chin just as sharp as his cheekbones.

Then you meet his eyes.

A blue-ish gray.

The man standing before you runs on the shorter side — under average height for a man.

His ebony hair dangles and sticks to his sweat-slicked forehead, the ends pointed and shaggy.

It takes a moment until you realize you’ve seen that hair before.

While you’ve taken to walking on the treadmill for your warm-up these last several weeks, he’s typically nestled in the strength training corner of the gym alone.

Every morning that you’re here, he is also here diligently working on his physique.

He’s always in some squat position or lying on a bench, so you never paid attention to his face—

He’s fucking gorgeous.

“Looks like it’s fine,” he says casually, and your stomach falls out of your ass.

Baritone.

Smooth like honey, low like a rumble.

There’s no way.

There is absolutely no way it’s—

“Here.”

The man holds your phone out for you, brows knitting curiously.

You can’t speak.

Hell, you can barely breathe.

He shakes his hand to wake you from your shock.

“Take it.”

You know that voice like the back of your hand.

Wordlessly, you reach a shaky hand towards the phone to take it back.

You part your lips to speak, but no words exit.

All you can do is grasp your phone and pull it to your chest as you catch the scent of his deodorant with a mixture of musk when he passes by, none the wiser.

By the time you turn to say something, anything—

Levi from Scout Services Hotline dips into the men’s locker room.

Author's Note:

...oops.

Thank you for reading part three of P4! I continue to be blown away by the response. Because of your encouragement, I wrote one of the fastest updates I've made in ages. How are we feeling now? Let me know in the comments!

Thank you for likes, and even more love to those who choose to reblog this to help spread the word of this series or reply in the comments. ilu xo

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #attack on titan fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction #aot fanfic #snk fanfic #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman smut #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #aot smut #aot x reader #snk smut #snk x reader #press four for more options

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b00kdiary · 1 year ago

Note

Could I request Azriel and Plus Size reader where they’re both new to the mate bond and she overheard Azriel and Rhys’ conversation about the “Cauldron being wrong.” She left before she was able to hear Azriel call himself a fool for even believing it for a second, knowing that he’s already kissing the ground his own mate walks on. She starts comparing herself to Elain and then starts lashing out, going to Rita’s every night and avoiding Azriel whenever she sees him.

Cauldron Blessed | Azriel

Azriel (ACOTAR) x Plus Size Reader

Warnings: Mature themes (18+), swearing, body-image issues, angst, and eventual smut.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

'The Cauldron was wrong, so wrong.'

Those words played and replayed in my mind again and again, all day, every day, for the last week.

Wrong.

He said that the Cauldron was wrong- about us, about me.

Me, his mate- wrong.

It had been an accident, me overhearing them that night, a coincidence I had decided to come home early from my girl's night with Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie. Though with the Cauldron, there was no such thing as an accident, no such thing as coincidence.

I'd waded through the House of Wind, tipsy on wine and giggling softly to myself as I banged into the walls, thumping clumsily against the art pieces hanging and tripping over my own two feet. Giddy, I had been giddy, stumbling through the halls in search of him.

Azriel, my mate.

Only a few hours apart and I missed him, yearned for him, I felt the distance as if it spanned miles and the more I drank, the more I craved him. That's all I had been thinking of when I trekked through the empty halls, closer and closer to the lounge- just of my mate.

And that's when I heard it.

"The Cauldron works in mysterious ways," Rhysand's laugh drifted out to me in the corridor, and I came to an unsteady halt at the sound. "Feyre was my salvation; I didn't expect anything good to come to me Under the Mountain."

I smiled to myself, my hand coming to my mouth, shielding any sound that threatened to slip past- Az always teased that my lips loosened when I drank too much. Instead, I lean against the cold wall, warmth filling me as he gushed about my High Lady.

They were Cauldron blessed, that was clear to see.

"I think five hundred years of waiting for her was enough, brother," Cassian snorted, and I heard the faint sound of liquor pouring into a glass, wings rustling as one of the powerful males moved. "I know I never imagined my mate as a twenty-five-year-old human female, with a bite worse than mine."

I bit my lip as Cassian laughed, a loud, bellowing sound, so full of joy, so full of content, the mere memory of Nesta, human and utterly indomitable against him something that still brought him to his knees.

"The Cauldron must have a sense of humour," Rhysand teased, and I could practically envision Cassian rolling his eyes, a vulgar gesture thrown between the two males. "Connecting people in the most unexpected pairs, in the most unexpected ways."

"Like Elain and Lucien," Cass scoffs, loudly chugging back the remnant in his glass, "There's a pair I could never have foreseen, not in a thousand years."

"Proof that the Cauldron isn't always right," Azriel muses for the first time since I arrived, and my body almost croons at the sound- low and rough, moving over me as sure as if it were his hands. "She deserves better than any male friends with Tamlin, that's for sure."

She deserves better.

It was silly I knew, for the mere mention of her, the thought of her to make me feel nauseous, make my smile instantly fade, but I couldn't help it. It was hard for me to see a female as lovely as Elain Archeron and not feel inadequate by comparison.

Another who was blessed, so lovely that she had been gifted her seer abilities by the Cauldron itself as if her beauty and delicate demeanour weren't gift enough.

"Brave words, Az," Rhys whistled, and I had to force myself to blink away the picture-perfect image I had conjured of the middle Archerson sister, forcing myself to focus on their conversation instead. "Openly opposing the Cauldron."

"Brave or stupid?" Cassian counters tauntingly, and I knew he was drunk just from how loud his voice was, practically bouncing off the walls. "You think the Cauldron makes mistakes?"

"I know it does," Azriel challenges and it was that voice, that sure, quiet demeanour that I adored and desired so fiercely. I inch closer to the door, grinning at the idea of popping out and scaring them- but then he says it.

Says the thing that makes me stop dead in my tracks, makes my heart stop dead in my chest.

"Look at me and Y/N," Azriel sighs, and there's no joy, or adoration or yearning in his voice in memory of me, not like Rhys or Cass- no, there's dread. "The Cauldron made us mates... the Cauldron was wrong, so wrong."

There's a loud crack that echoes through the room, and it's that sound, and the feel of sharp debris against my palm, that pulls me from my memories. I blink through the tears, looking down at the crumbling marble sink, the corner pieces breaking off into my hands.

I sob through my teeth at the sight, small cuts leaking stark red blood down my fingers as I bring my hands to my chest. I can't see the looking- glass before me, not through the haze of tears, tears so strong it's as if I were made of them.

As if they had become a part of me.

It was all I had done the past week, cry and cry and cry- and avoid Azriel.

Every morning I skip training and breakfast, feigning fatigue or a full stomach, just so I wouldn't see him there. Each afternoon I'd get lost in the stacks and stacks of books in the library, so vast and endless that Azriel never stood a chance of finding me in the maze.

And at night I'd find solace wherever I could find a drink- Rita's, taverns, the Music Quarter, anywhere. Anywhere but at home, anywhere that I didn't have to see him.

I couldn't bear it, couldn't bear the sight of his face, even now the thought of his tilted smile, the beam of his soft hazel eyes, the touch of his scared hands and wild shadows, it made my whole body wrecked with sobs.

I couldn't bear any of it anymore- because none of it was real.

Every smile and touch, every kiss and moment where our bodies joined as one, where he confessed his love and devotion to me, it wasn't real. Azriel thought we were wrong, a mistake, a confusion, just wrong.

My hands shook as I wiped the tears from my cheeks, rougher than necessary, blood-smearing, but I was tired of tears, I was tired of crying, of feeling so unworthy. I was unworthy of him; he was beautiful inside and out and deserved so much better than me.

I sniffed as I lifted my gaze to the looking glass before me, and my heart hurt at the reflection, knowing that this was what Azriel saw, that this was why he knew the Cauldron was wrong. Every curve and roll and inch of flesh that I had, all of it, it was all wrong.

And I hated myself for it.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I take a step back and then another step, away from the reflection that taunted me, and mocked me, before forcing myself to look away. I swallowed against the dryness in my throat as I moved across the cold floor of my bathing suit, my body desperate for my bed.

And as I step over the door's threshold, and back into my old room in the House of Wind, I know it's not the same as when I had left it ten minutes ago.

He was here.

"Azriel," I gasped, halting at the sight of him- sat on the edge of my bed, his broad shoulders and powerful wings rising sharply at the sound of my voice, those hazel eyes meeting mine and filling with something honeyed and warm. "Wha- what are you doing here?"

He rises from the bed, elegant and still, his shadows dancing around him at the feel of my presence, the scent of my skin, and I shiver as he watches me, keen eyes gracing my stiff figure.

"Y/N," He sounds almost relieved as he says my name and my breath is caught in my lungs as I stay rooted to my spot, and he seems to sense my unease, as he doesn't move any closer to me. "You've been staying here for a week now; I missed you at home."

Home- the apartment we shared in town together, a cosy space that we had made our own.

Another thing I couldn't bear to face.

"I've been catching up with the girls," I say quietly, ripping my eyes from him and walking forward on numb legs. I tug at the hem of my nightshirt, his nightshirt I had stolen, feeling too bare before him and his eyes narrow at the movement. "It's just easier to sleep here when we have plans every day."

As spymaster it was Azriel's job to scrutinise, to observe and I felt every single part of that slot into place as he watched me now, watched as I moved toward the bed. I wasn't looking at him, I couldn't hold his stare- and he couldn't figure out why.

His shadows dance through the room, through the distance between us and I jolt, biting my lip when one brushes against my bare thigh- before scurrying back to Azriel in surprise. He inhales a sharp breath when his shadow whispers to him, telling him that something is wrong, I was wrong.

"I know you've been spending time with the girls," Azriel continues slowly, his voice tentative and soft as I move to the other side of the bed, furthest from where he stood. "I just feel like I haven't seen you at all... I miss you, sweetheart."

Sweetheart.

A sob threatened to rip from me at the name, so soft, so endearing on his lips and it took everything in me to not fall apart at that moment, to not crumble under the weight of it all. I shake my head, my back turned to him now and he watches as I tug back the duvet, my actions angry now.

"It's only been a week Azriel," I breathe through my clenched teeth, my tone so at odds with his and my body locking tighter at the sound of his impending footsteps. "Sometimes space can be good, it can be eye-opening, show us things we don't want to admit but know deep down."

My words hit him head-on, like a slap across the face- I don't need to see him to know it, I can tell just from the stillness in the room, the silence, so strong that even his shadows have withered.

I clench my eyes at the feeling, at the touch that strokes against my soul, him reaching out to me through the mating bond- and me slamming up every wall I have to keep him away.

"What does that mean?!"

I don't hear him until he's right behind me and when his large hand touches the small of my back, I jolt, stumbling into the bed to get away from it. I turn on shaking legs to face him, and I'm pressed into the mattress to keep the distance.

"What? Y/N-" His face pales, and I see the pain in his eyes, unlike anything I had ever witnessed from him before. It was raw, vulnerable as if five hundred years of existence couldn't hide the hurt, knowing that I had flinched from his touch, flinched from him.

A rejection- something he feared the most.

"Sweetheart, please, I don't understand," He shook his head, his beautiful face twisted into an agonised frown, and his voice trembled, weak, as weak as the hand that now reached for me, shaking as if scared to touch me. "Why won't you let me touch you? Why are you pulling away from me, why-"

He stops, and for a moment I think it's because of the tears steadily leaking down my face, the way my bottom lip trembles with the effort to hold myself together- but it's not. His nose flared, and the hazel in his eyes turned dark, narrowing down upon my hands.

"You're bleeding," He mumbles hoarsely and the pain in my chest triples when his scarred hands inch closer, my eyes fluttering shut the second he touches me, holding my palms in his and examining the small cuts. "What happened, sweetheart-"

"Don't! Don't- don't call me that, don't touch me," I croak out, my voice breaking and Azriel flinches at the cry in my voice, wings rustling when I yank my hands-free from his hold, as if his touch burned me. "Stop pretending, stop making me think you care, just-just stop."

"I don't understand, what do you mean pretending-" He pleads, his voice splintering, and I can see him thrumming with emotion, desperate to reach out to me, to hold me, but trying to respect what I had asked him. "I don't understand, help me understand what I did wrong-"

"I know how you feel about me, a-about us," I sob, my weak hands coming to my face, and I cry into them, so loud that nothing can muffle them, and I feel Azriel's' helplessness down the bond, still reaching for me, "It was cruel, to make me think-to make me think you loved me-"

"I do love you!" He snarls and my eyes snap open when I feel the familiar roughness of his hands against my wet cheeks, his grip unrelenting and needing as he draws me to him- and I don't have the strength to fight him. "Of course, I love you, why would you say that?"

His thumbs brush away the tears that won't stop leaking from my cheeks and somehow my fingers have found purchase in the material of his shirt, nails digging desperately, clutching him as tightly as he held me.

"You said it was wrong," I whisper, the words slurring in my throat, and I force my heavy eyes to his, force myself to look into those teary hazel eyes and confront him, with the burden I had been carrying alone this whole time. "You said that we were wrong, that the Cauldron was wrong."

His forehead creases, lines forming between the thick, dark brows as he peers down at me, and his hands don't release me, if anything they draw me closer.

And I see the moment realisation hits him, like ice-cold water seeping through his veins.

"I heard you talking to Rhys and Cass, you said we were proof," I gasp, feeling his shadows curl and wreath around my wrists and fingers, as if afraid to let go, as if trying to comfort me as I sniff. "You said we were proof that the Cauldron could be wrong, so wrong."

"I didn't mean you, Y/N, I would never mean you," He beseeches, his breath caressing my face, my lips and his eyes are so intense, so vibrant that I can't look away, "I didn't mean you, I meant me, I'm wrong!"

I suck in a harsh breath at his outburst and I feel it then- the self-deprecation, the vulnerability, the fear, it was all aimed at himself, it was all about him.

The silence stretches on as we stare at each other and my face must hold every ounce of my surprise and confusion, because he sighs, his forehead resting against mine. I see his wings sag behind him, as if defeated.

"I don't know how much you heard but I did not mean that the Cauldron was wrong to pair you with me," He mutters, his words unsteady, and my eyes flutter shut at his words, "I meant that the Cauldron was wrong to pair me with you- the Cauldron has blessed me but forsaken you."

"Azriel-" I gasped, and it was now my hand that lifted between us, my hand that cupped his stubbled cheek, forcing his eyes to mine. "That's not true, I'm not forsaken, I'm blessed, I'm Cauldron-blessed, Mother-blessed to have you-"

"Y/N you deserve the world, the sun and the moon and the stars," Azriel's voice breaks, a sob gurgling in his throat as he nestles against my palm, now wet with his tears. "I have spent five hundred years being unworthy of anything, and now that I have you, I will spend the next five hundred being unworthy of you."

He felt unworthy of me, he thought that he did not deserve me.

"Don't say that don't- you've given me the world and more," I shake my head, forcing every inch of surety and strength into my voice, "I love you, so much, so much that the thought of you thinking we were wrong, it killed me Az, because you're all I need."

He shakes his head against my hold, but his hands slip down my back, down my waist and to my hips and thighs, fingers digging into my flesh, holding onto my meat for leverage and pressing my soft body against his firm one for dear life.

"Not once did I ever think you were the problem, I thought it was me," His brow furrows deeper at my words, and I see the denial in his eyes, in his face, "I see a male who is beautiful inside and out, who is powerful and skilled, who has been a saviour to this Court in so many ways and I can't come close, I can't ever be equal to that Az."

"Y/N, no-" He growls, nails carving crescent moons into my flesh.

"I'm not a warrior like Nesta or a ruler like Feyre," I continue, and I open up the walls I erected to keep him out from my soul and mind, letting the mating bond flow freely again- to let him see all I had thought these few days. "I'm not beautiful like Elain... I'm not enough."

"You are everything," He hisses, and I can feel his overwhelming pain as sure as if it were my own as he graces over my feelings and thoughts- as he takes in every disgusting, horrific thing I had thought about myself, about my body. "You are everything and more to me, Y/N."

Power flashes through his eyes and then his head ducks toward me, capturing my lips in his.

Time seems to slow when his lips meet mine in a gentle collision, the kind of impact that steals the breath from my lungs, the kind I can't get enough of. Azriel grumbles at the taste of wine on my mouth, his tongue lapping at mine as if devouring the sweetness.

"Azriel," I sigh, like putty in his capable hands, and like always, he's skilled with how he handles my body, so easily turning us so my legs hit the mattress, my body weightless as he lifts me to sit on the edge.

"I have seen you navigate politics and arrogant High Lords in a way that has us all on our knees," He mutters against my lips, and I croon at the feel of his hands languishing up my thighs and hips, squeezing the flesh, his eyes dark with desire now.

His nose brushes against my cheek, so bare, as he kisses and trails his tongue along my jaw, moving down my neck and I can't do anything but moan softly as he lies me flat on my back, his powerful body towering over me, covering me wholly.

"I have seen you cut down soldiers triple your size as if they were little more than weeds in a field," His canines scrape against the racing pule-point at my neck and my eyes flutter, neck exposing for him and back arching when his hand cups my breast over my shirt.

He settles between my thighs, and he groans when his hard length brushes my wet core, the smell of arousal heavy in the air, the kind of stimulation that made us both dizzy with need. I arch my hips up to meet him, needing to feel something, anything from him.

"And I have seen males and females alike marvel at your beauty, at your body, desiring to see you without a scrap of clothing on," Azriel's voice turns furious, dark, as if the mere thought of someone else seeing me naked made him violent, honed to kill.

"Az, please," I mewl, fingers clawing at his back, feeling the muscles ripple under my touch, his shadows in a frenzy, caressing and dancing and wreathing around my body, feeding off every moan that escaped me. "I need you Az, please."

He presses long, wet kisses against my jugular and I sigh in relief when I feel his body shift, hips lifting and the sound of a belt clinking as he unhooks his slacks, freeing his hard length from within.

"I love you, sweetheart," His head lifts, face tight with sincerity and I can feel the thumping of his heart against mine, those intense eyes capturing me wholly. "I love all of you, I love all that you are-"

"Body," His fingers hook into my underwear, and I gasp as he tugs the wet material to the side, fingers brushing my clit.

"Mind," Our sounds meld as he rubs the tip of his cock against me, parting my folds, spreading my arousal from my entrance to my clit, and his breathing deepens as I whimper.

"And soul." He pushes into my entrance, stretching me just from the tip and automatically, my thighs clamp around his hips and my back arches at the feeling of him.

"I love you, Y/N," He pushes in until his long, thick length hits my cervix and my cunt is stretched thoroughly, throbbing around him. I trace my hands up his arms, nails scratching along every muscle, every strong, lean plane of him.

"I love you too, Azriel," I whisper back, and when my eyes flutter open, I see him above me and I know that nothing else, no one else could feel this right.

He doesn't move, merely staring down at me, his eyes burning like embers- feeling the thought as intensely as I did.

The Cauldron was right, so right.

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

@mis-lil-red @hyemishii @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @loveareum @infintyfandoms @sarawritestories @eerievixen

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htaesan · 3 months ago

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　ᅠ 📩　ᅠ EMAILS BETTER LEFT UNSENT part 2　　────　ᅠ ( park sunghoon )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀your crush on your best friend of almost ten years is getting out of hand, and you feel like it’s time to give up𑁋especially after seeing how well your desk mate treats you.

　　　ᅠ 박성훈 & 심재윤 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 32k ⠀ genre fluff a bit of angst childhood best friends to lovers non idol au high school au ⠀ contains mentions of food sickness crying skinship pet names ocs and random characters ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net

　　　ᅠ note ᅠ from ᅠ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈 ! ᅠ HELLO your fav fic is back and better!!! (i hope.) saurrrrr i know the word count is crazy and tumblr does not let me put that much words in one post.. so this is the second part ! >< (i am so sorry) enjoy reading my debut enhypen fic on my new blog ^_^

　　　ᅠ ＞︿　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

To: [email protected] From: sincerely/[email protected] Park Sunghoon, Thank you for taking care of me at the hospital. Part of me was weirded out as to why you’re so adamant in making sure you were there to witness me eat all my meals until I was discharged. Even Heeseung oppa was weirded out. He asked me if you had… feelings for me. I said no. I strongly believe in it, that you harbour no such feelings towards me. A very small part of me thinks you like me—exactly like the way I like you. That very tiny part of me is giving me hope that feels illegal to have… hope that maybe I’ll be able to call you mine, and that I’ll be able to spend the rest of my life loving you loudly. Though, I’ll use my rational mind here. There’s no way you like me the way I like you. It’s impossible. It’s impossible. Maybe it’s not, but… It’s impossible. Sent 23:45 PM, 11th November.

To: [email protected] From: sincerely/[email protected] Dear Sunghoon, Thank you for always sending me plenty of food every day, at each meal time. You’re very clever, aren’t you? You’re making me feel bad if I don’t eat the food, so that way I’ll finish everything. You know me best, Sunghoon, and I sometimes hate you for that. Do you know how dangerous this fact is for my heart? She keeps on falling for you. Again, again, and again. I’ll come over to your house after I finish this practice exam paper. Wait for me :) Sent 9:08 AM, 12th November.

You’re standing in front of the hotteok booth, bundled up in a warm puffer jacket. You had decided to buy some warm street food before going to Sunghoon’s house.

You shove your hands into your pockets, trying to keep warm. You impatiently tap your feet against the concrete floor, wishing that the old lady at the stall is cooking your hotteok a little faster.

“Aunty, I’ll pay for her hotteok,” you hear a familiar voice say.

“Jake?” you say upon seeing him beside you. He gives you a toothy smile.

“Hi, good morning.”

“Good morning,” you reply grumpily, “are you the richest person in the world, or what? You don’t need to pay for my food every single time you see me.”

Jake laughs, and you see wisps of his breath vaporising from his lips. “I’ve never seen someone get mad at me for paying for their food.”

“Have you done this kind of treatment to anyone else?” you ask sharply.

Though, your tone does not intimidate Jake at all. He simply chuckles, and raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“No,” you snort, elbowing him. “Why would I be?”

“Here you go,” the hotteok lady says, handing you a paper bag filled with the goodies you asked her for. The scent attacks your nose, and you smile happily at the thought of devouring them as soon as possible.

“It’s KRW 4500,” the lady reminds, and as swift as the autumn wind, Jake hands her the money. “Thank you,” she says.

“Aish, seriously,” you grumble. “I can pay for myself, you know.”

Before Jake could say anything in reply, the hotteok lady interrupts with a cheeky smile. “Jaeyun-ah, is she your girlfriend? She’s so pretty.”

Your jaw falls open as your eyes dart rapidly between Jake and the lady. “N-no, I’m not–”

Jake grabs your hand and gives the lady a very generous smile. “Thank you, aunty, I do think she’s very beautiful too.”

You feel heat smothering the entirety of your face and you give the lady a sheepish laugh. Jake then bids farewell to the lady and leads you towards the bus station.

“You’re crazy, aren’t you?” you hiss, pulling your hand away from his grip. “I’m not your girlfriend.”

Jake raises an amused eyebrow. “Oh? I thought you said yes the other day.”

“To what?”

“You agreed to dating me for a month, as a preview?”

“When…” you take a deep breath, containing your rage. Even though Jake was a very nice and polite person that you enjoy being around a lot, there’s this cocky side of him that often gets on your nerves. “...when did I agree to that?”

Jake looks confused—causing him to break out of his arrogant and confident manner, and it took him a minute to answer. “Oh. I-I took your silence as a yes.”

You laugh defeatedly. “Jake, I don’t think that’s how it works with me.”

Jake nods slowly, removing his gaze from you. While he’s recollecting his thoughts, and possibly coming up with a new tactic to convince you to date him; you’re thinking about it yourself, too.

Jake’s nice—he’s good looking, athletic, and he’s smart too. From the beginning of your friendship with him in sophomore year, Jake has never been anything but kind and caring to you. You lost count the amount of times he’s bought you food and drinks, helped you in subjects you particularly aren’t too good in—and he doesn’t make you feel less smart at all.

Honestly, you would classify Jake as one of the guys that girls are dying to get together with. He’s fun to be around—even if he can be overwhelming sometimes—he’s outgoing and adaptable, and he loves hard.

You’ve seen the loving side of him, exposed to you for almost the entirety of your high school years. It’s just that you chose to ignore it, unable to see Jake as something more than a good friend of yours.

You lay eyes on him, feeling bad—Jake deserves someone who reciprocates the immense amount of love he gives, not someone who purposefully chooses to friendzone him every single time, even though there’s absolutely nothing wrong with him.

A voice inside your head tells you to try. That voice tells you to choose yourself, instead of pining after Sunghoon who most likely isn’t going to love you the same way you love him. It tells you that, perhaps, by giving Jake a chance, you’d give yourself one too. A chance to finally love and prioritise yourself.

“Fine,” you say, your voice shaky at first. “Let’s do it.”

YOU’RE riding the bus with Jake sitting by your side—and from the corner of your eyes, you can see how greatly his mood improved. He’s swinging his head slightly at the hum of a song he’s murmuring.

“I’ll see you later,” Jake says when the bus approaches your stop. He gives you the brightest smile you’ve seen on him yet. “Take care, text me when you get there.”

You chortle, “relax, I’m only going to Sunghoon’s house. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“Sunghoon?” Jake’s smile slips, and for a split second, you almost catch his eyes darken.

You nod cautiously. “Yeah, I’m going to study there,” you say, adjusting the tote bag on your shoulder. “Most likely I’m just going there to hangout, probably.”

“Why don’t you hang out at my place?” Jake suggests.

You grin. “You’re too clingy for someone who isn’t my boyfriend yet.”

“But–”

“Shh,” you place a finger on Jake’s lips, sending tingles through. “See you later.”

Jake watches with round eyes as you hop off the bus, waving cheerfully at him. It takes him a minute to process what happened, and it had been a little too late for him to wave back at you.

To: [email protected] From: sincerely/[email protected] Dear Sunghoon, Thanks for letting me hang out at your house today. It’s been a while since I’ve eaten your mom’s cooking, I miss it. Hoon, I hope you’ve been doing well. I hope you’ve been eating well, not missing your meals like I do, and that you’re always taking good care of yourself like how you’ve been taking care of me. Honestly, I envy you. How do you not develop feelings for someone who you’ve spent years with—who you’ve shared a bed and a blanket with multiple times, who you’ve eaten from the same utensils together a lot of times, whom you have hugged and cried with countless times. How do you not love someone, more than the boundaries of a mere friendship, who’s been there for you through ups and downs; who’s seen you at your best and your worst; who’s always making sure you’re taking care of yourself? How do you not fall in love with someone as kind as you? Sent 23:10 PM, 12th November.

To: [email protected] From: sincerely/[email protected] Sunghoon! We did it! National entrance exams are finally over! I can finally sleep in for a whole day… I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud of us. We’ve been through so many things together, now—kindergarten, elementary, middle school and now we’re more than halfway through high school! I can’t believe I’ve gone through so much with you by my side. I still remember you cheering me through my first violin recital back in second grade; and since then, you’ve never really missed any of my recitals. I still remember you teaching me how to skate, back in fourth grade, holding my hand tightly through every glide I took. I still remember you pulling me into one of the tightest hugs I’ve ever received from you, back in sixth grade, when you won the gold medal for the figure skating competition—I had never felt so joyful for someone other than you. I hope with the last bit of the school year left for us to spend together, we’ll make a lot of memories. Sent 23:46 PM, 14th November.

Knock knock. Knock knock. Knock knock.

Your eyes immediately flutter open, alarmed by the noise at your window. Groggily, you force yourself to stand up and rush to the source of the sound—your blurry vision barely making up the figure of Sunghoon outside.

“Let me in,” he says, voice muffled. “It’s cold.”

“No,” you mumble sleepily. “Who are you…?”

“Princess, it’s me,” he exclaims a little bit louder so you can hear him properly. Nodding idly, you obey and open the window for him to jump in. Sunghoon, noticing your extremely sleepy condition, wraps an arm around your shoulder. He closes the window securely with his free hand before guiding you to your bed.

“Are you that sleepy?” he asks you as he guides you to sit down in front of him. “It’s only 2 AM.”

“Mhm,” you nod, “I’m so sleepy…”

Sunghoon softly pushes away a strand of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. You’re not meeting his gaze, your eyes droopy as they fight for their life to stay open. “Do you want to sleep right now?”

You nod, and Sunghoon can’t help but chuckle—you look so unbearably cute. Then, after a minute of debating whether he should leave to let you sleep or not, Sunghoon decides to do something he’s been doing ever since the two of you were nine years old.

Sunghoon pats his thigh, signalling for you to land your head on it. Sleepy and unaware of your surroundings, you obey and lay on his lap, shifting to make yourself comfortable. Within seconds, you’re already sailing back to dreamland.

Actually, Sunghoon came to talk about his problems to you. It’s always been like that—you are each other’s safe place. He could tell you about anything and you’d listen, so intently that the problem is already instantly solved.

In the dead of the night, Sunghoon smiles to himself as he admires a sleeping you. You look so comfortable, at home, in his presence. You look so ethereal, and the moon seems to agree. Its dainty glow highlights the best of your features, glistening upon contact with your beauty. You’re sleeping, breathing gently and possibly dreaming about food and fun memories—but Sunghoon’s cheeks are reddening. His breaths are shaky, and with each exhale, he’s admitting something that he’s been denying for almost a decade.

Sunghoon likes you.

More than what friends should.

Sunghoon loves you—more than what he’d like to admit; more than what childhood friends of almost 10 years are supposed to.

“I like you, Y/N,” he whispers, and with each word that escapes from his lips, his shoulders release its tension. “I’ve liked you for a long time now. I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I like you.”

Sunghoons laughs, shaking his head. “Maybe I’m insane. Maybe I am, ‘cause the way my heart beats for you doesn’t suit what we are. The way I pretend that we’re just friends when every single night, I’ll dream about you–” he bit his lip, in hopes to control his feelings from overflowing, “–that is insane.”

“I didn’t want to fall in love,” Sunghoon whispers, slowly lifting his hand. He begins to trace your facial features, so gentle like he’s going to shatter you into pieces if he’s too harsh. “But you—how can someone look at you and not fall in love, Y/N?”

His finger comes into a halt at your lips. Sunghoon stares intently, his heart urging him painfully to just kiss you. He leans and kisses your nose instead, so tenderly it seemed like barely a touch.

Sunghoon smiles to himself, content. “One day, I’ll find the courage to tell you everything. I’ll tell you myself, how much I love you, how much I want you to be by my side for the rest of my life.”

THE next morning, you can’t help but laugh at the way Sunghoon’s gawking at you as you rush here and there to get ready. At first, you found it a bit weird how he slept on your floor the entire night, but given that he has been doing that for the past few years, you don’t really mind.

“What?”

“What do you mean what?” Sunghoon grumbles. “Where are you going?”

You scrunch your nose, giggling. “Guess!” you exclaim, turning away to finish doing your hair.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “How would I know? I mean, we are not going anywhere, so why are you dolling up?”

“Well,” you chuckle, “I’m going to the aquarium with Jaeyun. he asked—”

“JAKE?” Sunghoon yelps, almost falling off the edge of your bed.

You pause at the sudden reaction, one that you did not expect from Sunghoon. “What? We’re just friends.”

“Yet it’s a date,” Sunghoon flatly addresses.

“No it’s not!” you shriek, despite the fact that Sunghoon was in fact, correct. “I mean, yes, it is,” you roll your eyes at Sunghoon’s ‘I knew it’ expression. “But I haven’t said anything to him. Like, we’re not in a relationship or anything.”

You show Sunghoon your messages with Jake, hoping to ease the frown on his face.

hi y/n

if you’re free today

let’s go to the aquarium? let’s go by train

“See?” you say, “it’s nothing.”

Sunghoon turns off your smartphone, placing it to the side. His eyes pierce straight through you. “You look ugly.”

You gasp, your eyes widening as your smile drops drastically. What could hurt more—getting told by your crush that you look ugly, or being rejected by him?

“Okay, well, I take it back,” Sunghoon hesitates, “you l-look pretty. But, what I’m tryna say is that you don’t have to put on so much makeup.”

You stare at him, heart pounding so loudly as you await his next words.

Sunghoon continues, eyes looking away from you, “you don’t have to doll up. He’ll like you just the way you are.”

He gives you an awkward smile—leaning forward to pat your head. “I’ll wait outside. I wanna greet Mrs. Lee and say thanks for letting me sleep here.”

You watch as Sunghoon hops off your bed and walks out of the room, closing the door gently behind him. Your eyes linger around at the door, as if you’re waiting for him to come back in and watch you get ready. You sigh, turn back to the mirror, and continue finishing your makeup—doubting if you really are overdoing things with every stroke of the makeup brush.

MOMENTS later, you’re sitting in the taxi next to Sunghoon, who insisted so much that he accompanied you to the train station to meet Jake. His excuse? It’s so that you won’t get lost due to the heavy crowd at the station, and so that you won’t be too nervous to go on your first date with Jake. Sunghoon even went as far as to call your brother about it—and Heeseung agrees, so you have no choice but to obey.

“Do you like Jake?” Sunghoon asks, five minutes into the ride.

His question is direct and forward, and it feels like a bomb dropped straight to your face. It challenges you to truly label your feelings, distinguishing it clearly.

You return his gaze, biting your lower lip as you think of an answer. The answer is blurry between the lines of yes and no. “No? I mean, he’s a nice person.”

“So you like… like him?”

You aggressively shake your head. “No! I like him as a friend.”

“Then, you’re going on dates with him?” Sunghoon questions.

Your mouth sets on a hard line. “Okay, listen. Jake likes me—not the other way around—and he offered to date me for one month.”

“And you agreed?” Sunghoon jabs, his arms crossing across his chest.

Your gaze sharpens. “Gosh, Hoon, stop being so difficult! As I said, Jake’s just a friend. You don’t have to worry about anything. I agreed to dating him for a month as a ‘preview’ because he’s nice, and he likes me. Plus, it doesn’t hurt to try, does it?”

Sunghoon sighs, his jaw clenching. “You think love is a joke?”

Your mouth falls open, and for a few seconds, you struggle to form words. “N-no, I don’t. Love… it’s something serious to me, Hoon, and I know you know that. I’m just giving Jake a chance to prove himself to me.”

“Then if you don’t like him, you’ll reject him?” Sunghoon asks sharply, an eyebrow perched upwards in mockery.

“Well… yeah,” you admit silently.

You don’t know what you expect as Sunghoon’s next response, but you’re surprised to find simply nodding and turning away, scrolling through social media on his smartphone. The rest of the taxi ride remains silent, and Sunghoon only opens his mouth when you’ve arrived at the train station.

“Go on, have fun,” Sunghoon says, urging you to go out before you can offer to pay the fare. “I’ll pay—plus, I have somewhere I need to go to.”

“Are you sure?” you ask as you step out of the vehicle. Sunghoon gives you a strained smile before nodding reassuringly.

“Yes,” he replies. “Go on, princess, have fun at the aquarium. Don’t annoy Jake too much.”

“Okay,” you say, and you stand there, frozen as you watch the cab drive away. It’s painful, for some reason, to watch him let you go and do nothing about it.

Though, the universe doesn’t seem to let you dwell onto that guilt for too long. The taxi Sunghoon is in barely goes out of your sight before someone taps your shoulder. You turn around and see Jake—he’s dressed casually in a white tee, a navy blue plaid shirt as a cardigan, and brown jeans. His hair is combed nicely, in a way that some of it falls perfectly on his forehead.

“Hi,” you say, “you look nice.”

Jake smiles shyly, coughing it away. “Yeah. I-I mean, thanks. You look beautiful.”

You snort, scanning your own outfit—a white babydoll top with plain blue jeans. “Beautiful? I wouldn’t say that.”

Jake pouts. “You give yourself too little credit.”

“Whatever,” you shake your head.

“So, um, let’s go?” Jake offers you his arm. “I know you might not want to… hold my hand, but if you hold my arm, you won’t get lost in the crowd.”

You give him a slight smile, accepting his offer by grabbing his arm. “Alright, let’s go.”

For the entire train ride to the aquarium, which took about 20 minutes, Jake had been nothing but kind and caring towards you, just how you expected him to be. He made sure to find a seat that was comfortable for you—he even offered his seat to an old lady. Though, he made sure to stand directly in front of you, acting as a shield or a protector. Jake kept a respectful distance from you, but at the same time, he made sure that no creeps or anything of that sort could make you uncomfortable. Of course, you got some comments from people around you that Jake is extremely lucky to have a girlfriend as pretty as you, and vice versa. You tried to deny them at first, clarifying that you and Jake are just friends, but you gave up halfway due to Jake’s speed—you wonder how he managed to reply to them faster than you do.

When the train arrives at your designated stop, Jake offers you a hand—and you take it, letting him guide you through the ocean of people. At the ticket counter, you didn’t even have a chance to offer to pay—Jake did it all.

It’s really awkward at first, having everyone look at you with heart eyes, whispering “aww, they’re so cute”, “oh my, they look so good together”, “look at him, so sweet, paying for his girlfriend” as you and Jake pass by. Though, all the awkwardness quickly dissolves away as soon as you set eyes on the aquariums on display.

The first display hall of the aquarium is decorated with colourful and mystical lights, making the aquatic creatures living inside so much prettier. You pull out your smartphone and take numerous pictures; Jake walking close behind you, observing you intently. He smiles gently as he watches you in awe of the corals and jellyfish, sneaking a few pictures of you.

Once the two of you reach the highlight of the aquarium, which is the aquarium tunnel, you can’t help but gasp in complete astonishment. Jake watches with amusement, laughing along with you as you spin around, taking in the view around you.

“Jaeyun!” you squeal, the edges of your eyes crinkling as you smile widely. “Look! It’s so pretty!”

To you, the view around you is breathtaking—with every turn, you see sharks swimming around, followed by unknown schools of fishes and aquatic life. But, to Jake, the breathtaking view is you. Features illuminated by hues of blue and purple light, Jake can’t help but smile merrily at the sight of you, happily admiring the scenery in the aquarium.

“Yeah,” Jake replies, breathless. “It’s pretty,” he says, but he’s looking at you.

To: [email protected] From: sincerely/[email protected] Hi Sunghoon, Today’s date with Jaeyun was really fun! I haven’t been to the aquarium in Busan for quite some time, so it’s nice to be there! He paid for everything, of course, so I had to enjoy it ten times more! Hehe. He also paid for lunch… I kinda feel bad. I tried to refuse and pay for myself, but Jaeyun wouldn’t let me. :( Hmm. I hope you aren’t upset with me spending time with Jaeyun. Okay, honestly, I don’t know why I’m saying this in the first place, but… I don’t know if I should continue loving you. Sure, I still do love you, but maybe, for the sake of my heart, I’ll keep my love strictly within the limits of friendship. I don’t know. I still like you. I want to be with you, grow old and create countless memories with you. But I have to take care of my heart, too, don’t I? It’s been five years, Sunghoon, and I don’t know if my love will ever be reciprocated. I don’t know if you’ll ever love me back the same way. Besides, with school ending in five months, it’s certain that we’ll diverge in our paths—not meeting each other again for years to come. I don’t want to be in pain, Sunghoon, but at the same time, I’m willing to go through even the harshest storms and pits of hell for you. Sent 19:15 PM, 15th November.

Closing your laptop shut, you hit yoursel lightly. How could you forget? It’s Jake’s birthday! You only realised after seeing Naeun’s text, reminding you if you’d come over to her house to help Fdaniset up for Jennie and Jake’s surprise birthday party . The two of you had gone out together for the day, and you didn’t even wish him a happy birthday. Trying not to trip, you grab your purse, smartphone and a puffer coat, and run out of the house. You rush to a nearby cafe—thankfully there has been a bakery in your neighbourhood—to buy two small lunch box cakes. You whip out your smartphone, dialling Jake’s number. The sun is setting, and you desperately hope he answers, despite only parting ways with you less than 30 minutes ago.

“Y/N?” his voice came through.

You let out a shaky laugh of relief. “Oh, thank you for answering the phone. Are you free?”

“Are you okay?” he asks. “I-I mean, I’m free. Just chilling at home right now. Why?”

“I… want to drop something off,” you say, carefully choosing your words. You certainly don’t want the cake in your hands to not be a surprise. “I-I mean! I want to give you… something.”

You hear Jake chuckle. “Okay, I’ll meet you—send me your location?”

“Can we just meet at your house?” you inquire, not wanting to give Jake an inconvenience.

“I don’t prefer having the lady go out of her way to meet me,” Jake replies after some silence, “I prefer going out of my way to meet her.”

Your nose crinkles as you try to hold in your shyness. “O-oh, okay… I’ll send you my location.”

You quickly end the call, and send him the location of the cafe you’re standing in front of. A few minutes later, you see Jake running up to you—his hair messily tousled by the wind, his chest heaving up and down drastically.

“Did you run here?” you ask.

Jake nods. “Yeah. I wanted to meet you.”

You laugh, soft like the wind. “We literally just met this afternoon, Jaeyun.”

“Anyway,” you say, stretching out your arms to show the lunchbox cake, the one that you had asked the shop employee to say ‘Happy Birthday, Jaeyun!’ on it, to Jake. “Happy birthday. I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier today, I didn’t realise it was your birthday too… I mean, you acted like it was a normal day!”

“My birthday too?” Jake asks, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Did you forget that Jennie’s my twin sister?”

You pout, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry…”

After grabbing the cake from your hands, Jake leans forward and pats your head. “Thank you, Y/N. Means a lot.”

Then, feeling the buzz of your smartphone in your pocket, you’re reminded of the birthday surprise you need to help Naeun with. You quickly say goodbye, and wish Jake a happy birthday again before running off to catch a taxi.

Jake watches you go, his eyes lingering a second longer, even after the taxi you’re in leaves his line of sight. He turns his attention to the lunchbox cake in his hands, a smile curving up his lips as he examines its design—a cute puppy, on a plain white cake, saying ‘Happy Birthday, Jaeyun!’.

Jake turns on his heel and merrily walks home. Deep in his heart, he knows that the girl he likes has her heart set on someone else, yet this little gesture feels like he’s won her over. It’s short and doesn’t last as long as he’d like it to be, but the butterflies it gives him is enough to last him awhile.

AS you’re desperately wishing for the traffic to die down quickly, due to you needing to be at Naeun’s house as quickly as possible, your thoughts lead your mind elsewhere. You’re back to thinking about your interaction with Jake—how his surprised yet grateful smile seemed to hide a thousand more emotions behind its perfection… it lingers in your mind. His gestures are sweet and really, really thoughtful—he’s willing to go out of his way for you, always managing to crack a smile from you.

Deep down, you know Jake cares about you. He’s everything you had looked for in a partner—he’s willing to learn more about you, he’s patient and kind, he’s good looking and he’s smart—if only your heart wasn’t tightly bound to someone else.

Halfway to Naeun’s place, your smartphone buzzes with a text message. This time, it’s from Naeun. You quickly open it, expecting a “hurry up, Y/N!” or some kind of instruction for the surprise—instead, you find a picture of Jake with the lunchbox cake you gave him. He’s smiling, posing in front of his house, holding it up to the camera with that goofy, happy grin that makes your heart do a little flip.

y/n, did you give this cake to him?

it’s on his instagram story

You reply,

yes. but it’s not the one we’re surprising them with

it’s with me rn

You watch Naeun’s reply pop out on the screen.

oh good

scared me

also, what’s up with the caption?

“I think I’m in love with her, Y/N. This cake... it’s everything to me. She’s everything.”

The message halts you in motion. Your fingers hover over the screen, unsure of what to reply. For a moment, you’re sitting there, staring at the screen while the traffic buzzes around the taxi you’re in.

The message is like a hard slap to the face, but instead of making you cry, it makes you second guess everything.

Is Jake really falling for you? Are his actions purely out of love, and not just some casual ‘I like you’ kind of thing? Is he really waiting for something, some kind of answer, from you?

You press your lips into a thin line, thinking hard.

Jake has been nothing but patient, kind and loving towards you. He’s everything that every girl, including you, would ask for. Though, that fact comes with a feeling that you can’t shake off—every time you think of Jake’s smile, his kindness and his warmth; it all drifts back to Sunghoon. How the world seems to revolve around him, his smile that makes you think of bread whenever you see it, the warmth of his hugs, and the comfort of his presence.

Your heart always seems to find its way back to Sunghoon.

You swallow thickly, trying to push the guilt down. It’s not fair to Jake. It’s not fair to anyone, especially you, because you’re the one stuck in the middle of two worlds.

Do you pick Jake, or do you stay with Sunghoon?

THE surprise birthday party is a blur. Everyone’s laughing, chatting, eating their hearts away, and there’s a sense of celebration in the air—but you can’t quite ignore the clenching feeling in your stomach. You’ve got two different people to think about now, and you don’t know how to navigate the space between them.

And all the while, Jake’s smile from earlier keeps dancing in your mind. The way he’d looked at you as you handed him the cake, the way he’d thanked you so earnestly. Why did a small, lunch box cake seem to mean so much to him? How do you even respond to that? How do you face him, knowing he’s waiting for something that you might not be able to give?

You glance across the room, catching Jake’s eye as he talks with Jennie. You quickly look away, feeling a small, warm burn in your cheeks. You can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking, and more importantly, if he knows that your heart is, somehow, still tethered to someone else.

You pull your eyes away, unaware that Jake had quickly excused himself to approach you.

You sit in silence at the dining table, the birthday party bustling around you. It’s a small party, yet you can feel the high excitement and energy in the atmosphere. You sit alone at your seat, sipping on your drink. Sunghoon had left for a while to get some refreshments for everyone, so you’re left sitting by yourself.

“Y/N,” Jake says, pulling you out of your haze. “May I sit?”

You give him a quick smile as you nod. “Of course.”

“Are you not enjoying yourself?” Jake asks, grabbing a slice of pizza. “You’re quiet.”

You glance at the ceiling, feeling awkward as you don’t know what to say. You laugh sheepishly. “No, of course not! I am enjoying myself! Just… you know… soaking in everything.”

Jake laughs, throwing his head back. “I can tell with one eye closed that you want to go home right now.”

“Yeah, I should probably study,” you reply with a laugh.

Your conversation with Jake dims down, and the ambiance of the party resurfaces. You’re sitting in front of Jake, stiffly avoiding his gaze as he’s observing you. It’s like he has a million things to say, but can’t seem to find the right words.

“Y/N,” Jake suddenly says, his voice unsteady. “Thanks for making this surprise party for me and Jennie.”

You smile at him, breaking eye contact as soon as he finishes speaking. Suddenly, Layla chasing around her tail in the corner becomes such an interesting thing to watch.

“Of course.”

You connect your gaze with Jake, and you instantly are reminded of the conversation you had earlier at the aquarium.

THE tension between you and Jake is physical as you take in the beauty of the aquarium, elatedly ignorant of Jake’s silent adoration of you. Sure, the aquarium is beautiful—the lights dancing off the walls of the tunnel, creating wavy shadows of mesmerising colours, illuminating the ocean creatures in a magical way—but, for Jake, you are the most captivating sight.

Jake watches you, his focus unwavering from you, with pure content as you spin with excitement, pointing out every creature you lay your eyes upon. There’s an assured warmth in his eyes, the way he lays his eyes on you with a quiet affection that’s very much impossible to ignore; and for a moment, you wonder if maybe you’ve misjudged his feelings. Maybe there’s something deeper there that you haven’t fully acknowledged yet. Maybe he does really really like you—not the casual high school fling you thought he felt.

“Y/N,” you turn around and your pupils immediately dilate at the sight of Jake, who’s taking a step closer to you.

Jake gives you a genuine smile. One that made you see that, indeed, there are raw and vulnerable emotions behind Decelis Academy’s basketball ace’s handsome face. His voice is wobbly. “Thank you, really, for doing this with me. I’m really glad because I’m… I’m having a lot of fun, actually. More than I thought I would.”

You glance at him as you stiffly nod, your lips forming a half-smile.

“Of course,” you reply, feeling a pang in your chest as you remember Sunghoon’s words earlier in the taxi. Was he right? Could it be that Jake is looking for something more from you, and you’re just breaking his heart by doing this—the one-month dating agreement, where you yourself are uncertain if you’d reciprocate his feelings? “Me too—it’s been nice.”

Jake takes a deep breath, and as he continues, you begin to wonder if he read your mind. “I know you don’t think that this isn’t a real ‘date’ or anything… but I’d like to think of it as a real one—more than just hanging out, more than just a preview.”

You don’t dare meet his eyes. Instead, you direct your focus to the tight schools of fish swimming gracefully in the water, scales shimmering as they catch light.

“Y/N…”

You look directly into his dark brown eyes, the raw emotions swirling dangerously inside.

“I think you’re really special, Y/N. I-I just wanted to let you know that.”

Your steps come to a halt, and Jake almost bumps into you. You turn completely to face Jake, immediately overwhelmed by how heavy the situation feels. You can feel Jake’s palpable sincerity, and as you try to process his words, the rest of the aquarium fades into the background. The tunnel seems to shrink, your surroundings blurring slightly as your focus zeroes in on Jake’s face—his solemn expression, his vulnerability out in the open for you to see.

“You’re a good person, Jaeyun, you really are,” you start, your throat shaking as you struggle to keep your voice steady. Each word feels heavy for your tongue to pronounce—Jake’s gaze is heavy on you, and a small part of you wants to be brutally honest with him, to say the truth that’s been swimming in your chest all day.

“I’m really grateful to have you as a friend, as a tablemate,” you continue, desperately hoping your emphasis on the word friend delivered the message to Jake. You give him a small, almost apologetic smile.

“But, you know…” you say, your fingers fidgeting with the edges of your top. You take a deep breath before finishing your sentence.

“Right now, I’m… not sure if I can give you what you’re looking for,” you say, and with each letter you utter, the tension from your shoulders releases one by one. “I thought about it, Jaeyun, I really did. But I cherish you—as a friend—so much that I don’t have the heart to make you go through something one sided.”

Jake slowly nods, and you could almost hear your heart splitting as his face softens—you swear you saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes.

“O-of course, I figured,” he says, the crack in his voice evident. He sighs shakily, and for a second, he looks at his shoes to collect his thoughts. He looks back at you, his eyes sparkling with tears that are threatening to fall. “It’s foolish of me to expect anything from someone who’s heart belongs to another, b-but, I just wanted to… put it out there, you know?”

“I like you, Y/N,” Jake confesses, his hand placed above his heart as if he’s trying to stop it from jumping out of his chest. “I really do. I know I have no chance at all, but there’s no harm in trying, right? I just… hope that you might feel the same.”

Your heart skips a beat, and a wave of guilt washes over you. “Jaeyun… I’m sorry, I really am–”

Jake smiles, though it’s not a full smile. “It’s okay. I get it. It’s just… I don’t know. I guess I wanted to know what it would feel like to be with you like that. I thought maybe if we tried, you’d feel what I feel. But… I respect your feelings, Y/N. You don’t have to feel the same way.”

Silence falls between the two of you, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. You stand in your place, watching Jake wipe a hidden tear away from his cheek, taking a deep breath to compose himself. You feel a want to comfort him, to tell him that you’re very grateful to have him as a friend, to tell him that you’re not rejecting him as a person—it’s just that you aren’t ready to give him what he’s looking for in you.

Though, you stay silent—the moment is too raw, too delicate for you to say anything and ruin it.

So, instead of talking about it, you grab Jake’s arm, turning your focus back to the aquarium. “Should we go see the penguins next? They must look so cute.”

Jake lets out a heavy breath, and for a second, you think he’s going to pull away or make things awkward between you. But instead, he nods, and his smile returns, albeit a little smaller. “Yeah, that sounds great. Let’s go.”

The rest of your aquarium date goes smoothly without any hiccups, though it flows with a quiet and unspoken understanding. Jake’s demeanour is unchanged—he takes good pictures of you, he smiles and he laughs, though you could feel that his gaze is heavier with a touch of disappointment. You two enjoy the aquarium together, and even though things feel a little unsettled between you and Jake, there’s a comforting familiarity in the way you share small moments of laughter and quiet companionship.

By the time the sun begins to set, you and Jake are both sitting on a bench outside the aquarium, munching on churros, watching the last few visitors leave.

Jake turns to you again, his features soft and delicate. “Thanks… thanks for coming, Y/N. I’m glad you agreed to this, I’m glad you came. Even if it’s just as friends.”

You nod, suddenly conscious of the number of chews you made before swallowing a bite of churros. “Me too,” you quietly reply, turning away to look at the soft evening glow of the sky. “Thanks, Jaeyun, for being patient with me—for being my friend, for everything. I know it hasn’t been… easy.”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, it isn’t easy, but it’s worth it,” Jake shrugs, looking way too relaxed despite the tension he faced earlier. “Definitely. You are worth it, Y/N.”

The two of you exchange smiles, briefly, as you quickly turn your head away, feeling a little too shy and awkward to look Jake directly in the eye.

“I just want you to be happy, Y/N,” Jake continues, his voice silent as if he’s talking to himself, yet he wants his words to be heard by you. “Whether that’s with me, or… not with me. I’m okay either way. My happiness is yours.”

You finally turn to Jake, staring deep into his glistening brown eyes. His words are sincere, and in your heart, you feel a swell of gratitude for his maturity. You know that Jake is someone who will always care for you, no matter what the two of you are, no matter where your relationship goes. And as you sit there in comfortable silence, the only thing that’s certain is that, for now, being friends with Jake is the best you can offer him.

To: [email protected] From: sincerely/[email protected] Sunghoon, You know, I’ve been thinking about us. I mean, me—how did I even fall in love with my own best friend in the first place. After a few moments of thinking, I believe I finally got it. It was back in second grade. I remember our homeroom teacher asking us to draw a picture of us with our best friend as part of the art class—I remember drawing you and I. we had only just got to know each other for a few months, and I wasn’t even sure if you saw me as a friend too. I was nervous to present my piece to the class, afraid that my friendship was one-sided. The shock mixed with happiness that hit me when Naeun had shouted to the whole class, pointing to your piece, saying “teacher, look! He also drew Y/N!” I had never felt so belonged before. Though, I don’t know if I should continue loving you. I’ve always loved you, but I don’t think I can bear it any longer, waiting for something that’s never going to happen. Thank you, Sunghoon, for being my friend all this time. I owe you my life, and I’d do anything for you. I hope you know that. And even though I do resent you, just a little bit, for not reciprocating my love—I’ll always cherish you. If not as a lover, if not as someone who’ll stay with me till the end of time… as a friend. Sunghoon, I’m giving up on you now. I love you, but I can’t wait forever. Sent 23:32 PM, 22nd November.

JAKE is sitting in his room, completing homework as usual. However, nothing is going right—he’s suddenly getting all of the questions he usually gets right wrong. He pushes himself off of his chair, laying down flat on the heated floor.

Jake sighs.

His mind is swirling with many things—you. He vividly remembers the way you offer him a guilty smile, endlessly apologising as you friendzoned him. He’s not mad about it, he’s just sad that he can’t get a chance at loving the girl he likes just because she’s stuck up on a guy, for five years, who clearly wants nothing but to be just friends with her.

You had just left his house, 30 minutes ago, after completing a biology research paper together. You had been assigned as partners with him, and the two of you did your job well. It’s difficult to shrug off the evident awkwardness between you and Jake, but you admit that Jake’s really good at continuing off your friendship from where you left off.

“Jaeyun,” he remembers you beaming, as he walks you to the door.

“Yeah?” he breathed, still mesmerised by your smile.

“Thank you,” you said with a smile, sincere and heartwarming. “Thank you for still being my friend, and thank you for always treating me well, despite the heartbreak I may have caused you.”

Jake remembers grinning, patting your head as a way of saying that it’s all in the past, and he’s okay with it now. “It’s alright, Y/N, I’m thankful that I still get to be around you.”

You nodded, turning on your heel to begin walking home. However, before you could even step out of his driveway, Jake stopped you.

“Y/N,” he said, “I-I just wanted to say that if you ever decide that you’re… ready to give me what I’m hoping for, know that I’ll be here waiting.”

“Jaeyun… you might wait for quite some time,” you sighed.

Jake smiled—it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, yet you can see the hope seeping through. “It’s okay. If you can wait for Sunghoon for five years, I can wait for you for more.”

You chuckled, smiling widely at Jake. “Thank you, Jae.”

Jake pressed a swift kiss to your forehead, and you froze—unusually not flinching or retracting at it. He smiled, mirroring your sincerity. “Of course—and if Sunghoon ever decides to break your heart, tell me. I’ll fight him for you.”

You laughed heartily, your heart swelling with joy at the fact that someone is here for you despite the longing and the pain you’re going through.

Jake takes a deep breath, smiling as he recalls the moment. It hurts, that’s true, yet he’s determined to give you all that he has—one moment Sunghoon is caught slacking, he’ll be there for you, always.

“YO, Sunghoon,” Kangmin says, breaking the silence in the room. The two of them had been working on the biology group assignment together for the past few hours in Sunghoon’s room. Sunghoon turns towards his friend.

“What?”

Kangmin, who had been sprawled all over the bedroom floor, gets up and sits up straight. He ruffles his hair before saying, “do you have a spare email? Like, one that you don’t use anymore.”

Sunghoon pauses to think. “Yeah, I do. Why?”

Kangmin smiles sheepishly, scooting closer to Sunghoon, who’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, papers and books spread out around him.

“Hey,” he says, mustering up an innocent smile—which is met by a vicious side eye from Sunghoon. “Can I use it?”

“For what?”

“I think my girlfriend isn’t interested in me anymore,” Kangmin replies, pouting. “I’m not entirely sure yet, so I’m going to make a fake instagram profile, using your unused email address, to test my theory out.”

Sunghoon goes poker-faced, obviously unimpressed. “Are you crazy?”

Kangmin insists. “Aww, please, Sunghoon? I really need it.”

“Fine,” Sunghoon grumbles. He opens a new window on his computer to log into an old email account, [email protected], the one that he hasn’t used ever since middle school ended. He’s surprised to still have the password to it saved on his Google Chrome—and easily logs in.

Sunghoon’s eyebrows perk up in confusion at the red dot near the inbox icon, the numbers significantly high for an unused email address.

“I’m sure I didn’t subscribe to any newsletter or anything on here,” he mutters to himself.

Sunghoon clicks on the inbox tab, eyes widening upon what he’s seeing.

Countless emails, sent from an email address he’s all too familiar with.

Yours.

Sunghoon’s eyes scans the inbox, his disbelief growing with every second that passes by. His heart is racing, pumping so harshly he’s afraid it’d pop out of his chest.

He’s familiar with the name of the sender—Y/N—his best friend, his rock, the person he’s liked for so long.

There are so many emails—too many to ignore. The subject lines are all over the place: “What’s going on with my heart?”, “Thanks for letting me hang out at your house today…”, “I think I just fell in love with you again.”

Sunghoon’s heart pulses even faster, but he can’t seem to stop himself. He clicks on the most recent one, his heart pounding in his ears as the screen fills with words.

His heart stops for a split moment as he reads: “I’m giving up on you now. I love you, but I can’t wait forever.”

What did you mean by that?

Sunghoon stammers, not knowing how to react. His hand hovers above the mouse, hesitating to click anything. A lump forms in his throat, and tears threaten to form at the corner of his eyes. His thoughts start crashing down, and before he can even stop himself, he’s opening another email. And then another. And another.

Each one hits him with a sensation more painful than a ton of bricks hitting from above. The emails all have one thing in common: you have been writing to him for months. Writing to him, pouring out your heart, confessing feelings that you pictured as something obvious yet he never knew about, and… he hadn’t noticed. All the smiles, the eye contacts that lasted a second too long, the hugs that made each of you feel like you’re made for one another… he realises that it meant something to you too.

“I’ve always loved you..”

“But I don’t think I can bear it any longer, waiting for something that’s never going to happen.”

Sunghoon’s chest tightens. His eyes flickers over the sentence again and again, each word displayed hitting him hard. His fingers freeze, unsure if he should keep scrolling or not. It feels like he’s been hit by a storm of emotions that he isn’t sure how to process.

“Sunghoon?” Kangmin’s voice pulls him out of his haze.

Sunghoon looks up, startled, but then glances back at the screen, trying to collect his thoughts.

“What the hell?” Kangmin continues. “Park Sunghoon? Are you listening to me?”

Kangmin, who’s been watching Sunghoon for a while, curiously taps his shoulder. “Bro, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Y/N…” Sunghoon mutters, his voice barely audible. He’s still staring at the screen, mind dizzy. “She… she’s been writing to me.”

Kangmin raises an eyebrow, clearly confused. He breathily asks, “what do you mean? Like, she sends you emails?”

Sunghoon swallows hard, clicking on another email. This one was from a few months ago.

“I wish I was better. I don’t know if I’m good enough for you, but if you ever need a girlfriend, or a wife one day… I’m here. Always.”

The weight of the words crushes him.

Kangmin’s teasing grin fades as he notices Sunghoon’s expression shift from confusion to something more profound. “W-wait. What? Are these... from Y/N? Are you telling me she’s been in love with you? For real?”

Sunghoon nods slowly, still unable to look away from the screen. “I… I never knew.”

Kangmin blinks, looking between Sunghoon and the open inbox. “Dude, I thought you two were just friends.”

“We are. Definitely. We are,” Sunghoon’s voice is hoarse, like he’s trying to convince himself. “But these... These are real. She’s been telling me everything, and I—”

Sunghoon inhales sharply, stopping himself from continuing. His mind is flooded with thoughts—how could he have missed the signs? How could he not notice how you felt?

“What are you going to do now?” Kangmin asks after a moment. “Are you going to talk to her about it?”

Sunghoon doesn’t answer immediately. He meets Kangmin’s eyes, like he’s trying to find solutions. His thoughts are still sprawling, and one question lingers around the longest—is he losing you? Have you truly given up on him?

“I’ll talk to her—no, I need to talk to her,” Sunghoon finally says, each word slipping off his tongue quieter than the other. “I have to make things straight—I can’t lose her. I-I… She deserves the truth more than anything.”

Kangmin grows a tiny smug smirk. “The truth? Well, man, don’t leave me hanging like you did with Y/N—what’s the truth?”

Sunghoon stands up, determination filling his veins like never before. “I like her—I’ve liked her for a very long time. I’ve been such a coward all this time. An idiot, all this while.”

Kangmin grins, leaning back on the floor. He sighs with content. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

Sunghoon turns to him with a furrowed brow. “Hey, I’m serious, Kangmin. I don’t know if I have a chance to fix this. But I’m going to try. I can’t just—I can’t just…let her go.”

The thought of losing you completely—of never getting the chance to be honest about his feelings, to be honest and open to you about what he’s been hiding in his heart—hits him harder than anything else. He grabs his smartphone, fingers already dialling your number before he even realises it.

SUNGHOON stands on top of the hill, surrounded by yellow crimson trees and chilly air. He’s bundled up in a long trench coat, and the autumn wind is blowing through his hair. He called you to meet him here, telling you that he’s got something to discuss with you.

It hasn’t even been five minutes since he’s arrived, and he already sees you getting off the bus, running towards him. You reach him, crouching as you pant heavily to catch your breath.

“What the hell, Hoon,” you say between heaves of breaths. “Also, are you okay? You’ve been a little off lately, is it hockey practice?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “Yeah. I-I’ve been quite tired with school and practice.”

“Okay… so, what’s up? You said you wanted to tell me something,” you ask Sunghoon.

You look up to Sunghoon, realising how tall he is—you shake your head, wanting to stay resolute on the decision you made to move on. Waiting for Sunghoon to reply, you recall the email you sent him yesterday. It’s hard, and you know that—your heart still skips a beat whenever you see him smile, and your cheeks still turn pink whenever he calls you ‘princess’.

Though, it’s been five years.

You’ve thought of it long and hard, and ultimately, you decide to slowly let your feelings go. You know that accepting that Sunghoon is never going to reciprocate the love you bear for him will make you feel lighter, little by little, and it will help calm your nerves from all the swirling thoughts of him, Jake, and everything else going on. However, you also know that it’s a challenging process that will take a long time to go through.

“It took me ten years to find the right words to say this,” Sunghoon begins, out of the blue, startling you.

He pauses, his mouth slightly open, as if he’s hesitating to continue. As if he’s unsure of what to say first.

“What?” you breathe, uncertain if you should be relieved or scared.

Sunghoon looks at you for a moment, and then his gaze softens. You’ve never seen him look so… vulnerable. There’s something different in the way he’s standing there, next to you against the cold autumn winds, like he's on the edge of a cliff. He closes his mouth, and opens it again, but nothing comes out.

A minute passes in silence, heavy and full of unspoken things. Finally, Sunghoon exhales shakily, his shoulders relaxing just a little as he begins to speak again.

“I read the emails.”

His voice is barely above a whisper, but the words still land like a punch to the gut, its impact so big it knocks the breath out of you. “I had no idea. You’ve been... carrying this all alone, haven’t you?”

You’re caught off guard. You can’t look at him directly, your eyes flicker here and there, panic filling your nerves. The words tumble out before you can stop them. “Sunghoon, I—”

“No,” he interrupts, his voice gentle and his gaze is locked on yours, honest and raw. “I should’ve known. I should’ve seen it. I never noticed how much you’ve been giving. How much you’ve been waiting for me.”

You feel the tension tighten between you both, and something vulnerable stirs in your chest.

He saw the emails?

Your heart begins to race. For a second, your mind is overwhelmed, but the sincerity in his eyes keeps you in place.

“I didn’t want to burden you with this, Hoon,” you finally manage to say, your voice shaky. “I thought it was better if I just… kept it inside. I thought we’re better off as friends. I didn't want to mess up what we had. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. But… I can't help how I feel.”

Sunghoon’s gaze softens, his voice slow but determined. “Y/N, I should’ve told you a long time ago. I’ve been so stupid. I was afraid it’d ruin everything. I–oh my gosh,” he ruffles his hair aggressively, pacing here and there before finally stopping in front of you, his stance determined.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demands, his voice cracking.

A warm tear falls down your cheeks, sending goosebumps throughout your body. You didn’t even realise you had been crying. “Because I was scared,” you quietly answered, your voice hoarse.

Silence.

The wind flutters between the two of you, stinging against your skin.

“I… I feel the same way.”

His words are almost fragile, like he's unsure whether to say them or not. “I’ve always felt the same. I just… never brought it up… until now. But I’m here now. And I’m finally being honest with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your tongue goes numb. Everything’s hitting you at the same time, crushing you under its pressure.

Sunghoon watches you intently, waiting for a response. Getting no answer from you, he takes a step forward.

“Y/N,” he calls softly. “Princess, answer me.”

Tears begin to rapidly fall down your cheeks, your vision blurring, a response to the culmination of years of suppressed emotions. Your shoulders begin to heave up and down as you sob silently. Sunghoon’s frown falters, and he pulls you into a hug. It’s comforting, warm, and feels like home—perfectly where you always wanted to be.

“I’m sorry, princess, it took me so long to realise,” he mutters, placing his chin on top of your head.

“I’ve waited for five years, Hoon,” you sob against his chest. Sunghoon smiles softly, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here now,” he replies, “I’ll be here for you till the end of time.”

“I’ve always wanted to be the one for you, Y/N,” Sunghoon says, and your heart begins to race in disbelief.

“N-no,” you reply with a suppressed laugh, “I thought I was alone in this.”

“No,” Sunghoon shakes his head, “no, Y/N, you were never alone in this.”

“We don’t have to figure everything out right now.” Sunghoon says quietly, “I just want you to know I’m here. We’ll take it slow, okay?”

You nod, still in his embrace.

Like autumn, the wind rustling through the trees and golden leaves falling around them—the atmosphere around you and Sunghoon is changing. The world is moving on, yet the moment is special, as if it’s frozen in time.

THE scent of roasted chestnuts and warm bungeo-ppang fills the crisp winter air. Around you, the night market is bustling, filled with clouds of steamy breaths and people bundled under thick coats and scarves, lined up just to buy their favourite winter treats.

You stare at the bungeo-ppang in your hands, then at Sunghoon, who’s standing in front of you.

“You brought me here, away from the comfort of my warm blanket, just to buy me this?”

Sunghoon shrugs, biting into his own fish-shaped pastry. “You always wanted the most fresh, warm, and crispiest one, so I made sure to get the best for you.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re bribing me to like you back, aren’t you?”

He smirks. “Maybe. Is it working?”

You roll your eyes, scoffing. You bite a piece out of your bungeo-ppang, looking up at Sunghoon. Your heart stutters, catching the way Sunghoon is looking at you—soft, patient, like you’re someone worth waiting even a thousand years for.

You slowly chew the contents of your mouth, cheeks warm, but you still keep your eye contact.

Then, almost too casually, Sunghoon says, “I want to be your first and last love.”

Your eyes bulge, and you cough as you try not to choke. Your breath catches in your throat, your fingers freezing mid-motion. The words, sudden yet sincere, hang around you and Sunghoon, light but unbelievably heavy.

You begin to smile. You stuff a piece of bungeo-ppang into Sunghoon’s mouth. “That was so cheesy.”

Sunghoon laughs, his eyes crinkling into crescent moons. He barely manages to chew before he replies, “but you liked it.”

You don’t answer.

Instead, you tug him down by his scarf and kiss him.

The bungeo-ppang in your hand, your favourite winter snack, is forgotten the moment the distance between you and Sunghoon, your favourite person, closes, and his warmth melts into your own.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ check out PART ONE

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀want more like this? check out the 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

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jealousmartini · 2 months ago

Note

twin you haven't posted in twelve hours are you good

Hey girl! So I shifted.

Accidentally. But fully this time. Well, Fully-ish because I pussied out of fear. No, fully, actually. Wait wait let me explain.

So get this. I woke up.

But not with my eyes. Just mind, body, and soul slowly becoming aware of her surroundings through the heaviness of sleep if you get what i mean. And it was just too warm and familiar and soft. The bed I mean. Way too comfortable for me to want to open my eyes yet, so they stayed shut, blissfully unaware of the fact this bed is not mine. My senses were slowly yet surely locking in. But my brain was not even fully awake. So I was feeling and being without fully realising what was happening

And then I heard the faint click of what i figured was the front door unlocking. Then opening. Then shutting. Then, locking with a key. I assumed that must've been my brother because he usually escapes into the dead of night to go whatever 23 year old guys do at night. And I heard some thick chunky ass boots stumble to the floor and i wondered when he ever wore boots never mind this dense, his heavy padded footsteps gradually got closer slightly muted by the door being closed.. which was then opened (?). It was a small thing, but it didn't make sense why my brother would need to be in my room at all, nvm at this time of night. But anyway, some shuffling was done. I cocked my brow in suspension, eyes still shut btw, cus what did he just go through my stuff for. And as quickly as he was in, he was out of the room. I made a mental note to confront him in the morning about it.

And then I heard the shower start. From the wrong side of my house... Now I know the anatomy of my house pretty well, so I was confused why I could hear the shower from the west instead of the northeast of my room.

After the shower stopped, i heard the bathroom door open, close, and the same as mine. He took like 3 steps in, and this was when i heard him call my name. He whispered it like a question, i dont think he was sure if i was asleep or not. But it was weird because that's not my name. Well it is, but it's not my name from here. And it's definitely not a name my brother from here knew. And then I realised I knew that voice too, but it was different from what i was expecting. Pretty deeper and rougher than what im used to remembering, and it was definitely NOT my brother's.

And so now I'm frustrated. And kinda nervous. Im laid on my side, the same one as i was on when i first began to wake, but now im slightly tense with frowed brows and all. I'm dealing with so many questions at once like why is the house formatted weirdly? and who the fuck is in my room?? and why the fuck did the bed just dip from behind me???

I literally had a question mark in my head when the voice spoke again. But this time, he was closer. Much closer. I FELT his arm, his muscular arm at that, wrap around my waist and pull my back flush against his BARE NAKED CHEST, and I gasped. I fucking gasped. I swear my heart was about to beat out of my chest. My body jolted forward almost involuntarily at the sudden contact of skin, the feeling on his freshly shower-hot muscular bare chest was making me SWEAT and I heard him mumbled against the back of my neck "Shh don't wake up," and I was thinking "Oh i definitely know who this is" And girl I wasn't fucking planning on it anyway. But I ended up shifting back with my eyes squeezed SHUT like the pussy I am

Because I didn't even expect myself to shift that night. The night after my first day back at college from the Easter break. And now I'm supposed to come in like I wasn't just in another man's bed.

Now i dont have the guts to actually say who this was. Im practically shaking right now for fucks sake. But im sure everyone and their mother on this app who sees my blogs can make an educated guess and get it right first time. And after 8 years of knowing about mha and 6 years of trying to shift there, ladies and gentlemen I think I can officially say I have shifted to mha. It definitely wasn't my main mha dr, some would probably argue it was even better lmfao. I guess the secret to shifting really is just letting go.

#i had no intention of actually shifting last night mind you. i literally just thought about how it would be the end of the easter break in #my mha dr too and i was just thinking about how ive got so much work to be done lmao #martini answers #mha dr #mha shifter #mha shifting #shiftblr #desired reality #shifters #shifting #shifting success

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j2hoes · 10 months ago

Text

Intimate Treasures. (Steve Harrington x Adult Store Worker!Reader)

Word Count: 4.5K

Y/N works in an adult store and Steve can't seem to stay away.

Warning: Smut, p in v sex, cunnilingus (m and f receiving), dirty talk, knife kink, sex toys, mature language

Weekdays were always slow at Intimate Treasures, most people either working their regular 9-5’s or simply too embarrassed to be caught in an adult store mid week. Opting to discreetly shop on a Friday or Saturday night, hoping nobody will catch them. I often find myself amused by the actions of our customers, ninety percent of which seem to be ashamed of themselves for purchasing such ‘dirty’ products, as they like to call them.

Upon the opening of the store, many citizens of Hawkins were vocal of their displeasure at the presence of such a place. Believing that there was no place in the town for us. They argued that by opening within the Starcourt Mall, we would be indoctrinating their children into believing that sex is something that should be enjoyed and explored freely. Rather than an act of love that should only be taking place once married for the sole purpose of reproduction. There have been numerous occasions when I’ve argued with people about this, lecturing them on the importance of sexual liberation and safety rather than shaming people for their choices.

It was during one of these arguments that I met him for the first time. Wrapped up in a heated debate with none other than the local priest who was offering to save me from hell, I almost missed the mop of fluffy brown hair that hesitantly crossed the threshold of the store. He was trying to act casual, as though being here was no big deal, but I could tell he was nervous. Fumbled movements causing him to almost knock over a display of free condoms. To which he pocketed a few in the shorts of his little sailor outfit.

“What you are doing here in this store is sinful, I am only looking out for you young lady.” My eyes snap back to the priest who is glancing around the place in utter disgust, one hand gripping the cross around his neck, the other clutching a Bible.

“If you think this is sinful, you should see what I do in bed, old man.”

Despite losing sight of the sailor, I hear a muffled laugh coming from down one of the aisles and I can’t help but feel pleased that I’m not necessarily alone in this argument.

“You could be doing so much more with your life! You don’t need this filth, the Lord can set you on the right path if you would just let me cleanse you of your impurity.” The man pleads, his words failing to provide the impact he is hoping for.

Resting my elbows on the countertop, I lean towards the priest, hoping he pays attention to me. “Listen, I know for a fact that the Bible doesn’t specifically mention anything about sex toys or masturbation and not all of us are lucky enough to be in a relationship. Though I’m sure your wife isn’t exactly thrilled with her sex life.”

He gasps at my words, shuffling towards the door whilst muttering about ‘young dirty girls of today’.

“Be sure to send your wife in, her first vibrator is on me!”

As the door swings closed behind him, I let out a sigh of relief. Completely fed up of having the same arguments over and over again. My eyes fall back down to the stack of boxes by my feet, filled to the brim with new lingerie sets that need putting out on the shop floor.

Not wanting to waste any time, I quickly add the inventory to the system before hanging the black latex to the hangers. I won’t deny, it’s a gorgeous set. Shiny black bralette, so thin that the strap of fabric is only big enough to cover the nipple, with a matching thong, which also happens to be just as small. It leaves very little to the imagination, and I would be tempted to spend my paycheck on it, had I anybody to wear it for.

Finding a spot in one of the aisles, I begin to hang the various sizes on the wall. Careful to make sure that they’re all in size order so that they’re easy to find. A shuffle of feet towards the end of the aisle pulls me from my thoughts, the sailor intently staring at different wand vibrators. Every few seconds picking one up before putting it back with a shake of his head.

“Need some help?” I ask, hanging the last of the lingerie up and strolling towards him.

His eyes widen as I stand next to him, a deep red blush rising on his cheeks and I can’t help but smile softly at his awkwardness. I’m never one to assume, though I’m fairly certain this may be his first time in any adult stores. If his blush is anything to go by.

“Sorry, I just don’t really know what I’m supposed to be looking for.”

“Something for your girlfriend?” I push, the question slips off my tongue easily, one I generally ask all the male customers that look in need of assistance, yet something in me is praying that he answers with a no.

I won’t deny that he’s attractive, even with the unfortunate attire that he appears to be sporting. He has a boyish look about him due to the costume, it’s cute and soft. However, his chestnut brown eyes are dark and I can tell that he is very much a man.

“No, no girlfriend.” He admits, shoving his hands in his pockets, as he does so I’m able to catch a quick glimpse and notice the large size, backs of his palms displaying very prominent veins and I can’t help but squeeze my legs at the sight.

I’m not entirely sure what’s wrong with me. Never usually finding someone so attractive upon meeting for the first time, yet I’m practically drooling over the man in front of me. Even if I am putting on a very cool front.

“This is kind of awkward to admit but I wanted a vibrator you know for when I do have girls over. Just for something different I guess, in case my performance doesn’t cut it.”

I’m taken aback by his admission, most men refusing to believe they couldn’t be absolutely incredible in bed and insisting they’re only getting a toy because their wife wouldn’t stop pestering. To have a man so open about possibly not being perfect is refreshing and I realize I’m most definitely going to need some ice cold water then this customer leaves.

“Oh wow, that’s so thoughtful of you.” I tell him, moving slightly closer to the wall of products in order to assist him as best I can. Carefully, I grab a hot pink box, offering it to him. “So this is the newest wand vibrator we have, it has three different settings and a very long battery life. Trust me any girl would love it, it only took me about five minutes to cum when I used it for the first time.”

His eyes are focused on the box, teeth catching his bottom lip as he reads the information on the back. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, truly reading everything about the product in his hands. Something about him intrigues me, whether it be the sailor outfit or the fact that he truly cares about his sexual partners, I’m not sure.

“I’ll take it, thank you.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The second time that the interesting sailor entered the store was only two days later. A Thursday evening, most of the stores in the mall were closing for the day, not us however. Opting to stay open later for more of a sense of privacy.

I’m idly flipping through one of the latest editions of Playboy magazine, staring down at the women sprawled out on the pages. They ooze confidence and sex appeal, something I could only dream of. Whilst I wouldn’t say I necessarily lack confidence, I most certainly do not have a string of guys desperate for my attention like the women in the magazine.

Completely wrapped up in my own thoughts as I turn the page, it’s only when a handful of products are placed on the countertop that I glance up. Boredom evident on my face, I’m counting down the minutes until I can close the store and head home for the night. That is, until I realize who the customer is.

“I didn’t think girls were into Playboy.”

Running a hand through his perfectly styled brown mane, he smiles at me as he speaks and I struggle to hide my excitement at his return. Though there is still a hint of red on his cheeks, he seems calmer this time, clearly less embarrassed by his visit.

“I don’t know if you can tell, but we don’t exactly stock academic reading material.” I joke, beginning to ring the items through the till.

Bottle of lube, metal handcuffs and black bondage tape. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no stranger to the kinky items that I ring out on a daily basis. Yet, something about the handsome sailor buying them has me weak at the knees and I have to look anywhere other than his face as I bag everything for him.

“Hey, I just wanted to thank you by the way.” Finally making eye contact with the man, I can’t hide my confusion at his words. “For your help last time, the vibrator was a big hit.”

“Oh right yeah. No problem at all, I’m glad I could offer my assistance.”

My smile falters, why am I jealous? I shouldn’t be jealous, I should be pleased that I could help another customer. Pleased that I’m allowing others to enjoy their wants and desires. However, something about knowing the stranger has already used my suggestion on another woman hurts. I sound desperate, it’s not like me to get hung up on a man I have only briefly interacted with twice and yet here I am.

“No seriously, it was the most intense hook up I’ve ever had and it’s all thanks to you.” He rummages through his pockets as he speaks, before sliding a piece of paper across the countertop.

Free ice cream on me - Steve.

“I work at Scoops Ahoy, figured I owed you one.”

“Now the sailor outfit makes sense.” I laugh softly, carefully folding the piece of paper and slipping it into my pocket.

“I know. It sucks, does not help me woo the ladies at all.” He smiles bashfully, handing me the cash to pay for the products.

“I think it’s cute.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop myself and my head drops to the floor, shaking it lightly, humiliated by what I just said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, it’s just-”

“Good to know, I’ll see you later.” He looks at me expectantly, awaiting my name, as he makes his way towards the exit.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll see you later Y/N.”

The moment the door closes behind him, I slide to the carpeted floor, head in my hands, afraid I may have just completely made a fool of myself in front of Steve. Doing my best to get over how mortified I feel, I quickly stride to the door and flip the sign to closed, not wanting to humiliate myself further in front of any more customers tonight, even if I am technically supposed to be open for another hour and a half.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I swear to God John, if you take these home and add them to your wank bank, I am going to kill you with my bare hands.”

This week seems to be one embarrassing event after the next, standing in nothing but the new micro black latex lingerie, I pose awkwardly in front of the only blank wall in the building, allowing the store owner to take photos of me on the polaroid.

“Listen, we need to advertise what we have on offer, putting these pictures in the window is bound to gain more customers. Not to mention the added benefit of being served by the hot girl plastered in the window.” He states as though it's obvious, shoving a large kitchen knife into my hand which I take reluctantly. “Now spread those legs and lick the knife.”

Dropping to a squat, I spread my legs wide open, raising the knife to my mouth and seductively licking a stripe down the edge, careful not to cut myself. I may as well be completely naked with how little the lingerie covers, moving the knife to cover my vagina, I feign a gasp as he snaps another photo.

“You’re a natural, I’ll put these in the window and then I’m off for the night.”

I throw the knife on to the counter as I watch with folded arms how John sticks up the photos by the door. No doubt we’ll have complaints as each photo has me in increasingly compromised positions. It’s borderline pornographic.

Catching glimpses of the photos every couple of seconds, I can admit that I do look good. Incredibly good. They’re sexy and I feel empowered, it’s just a shame that they have to be on display for everybody to see. I’m all for being sexually liberated, I’m just not sure I believe everybody should be allowed to see me in such a vulnerable environment.

John leaves with a quick wave in my direction, flipping the sign on his way out so that I can finish my closing tasks in peace. Throwing myself down on the couch beside the window, I feel the shame start to flood my body. I begin to feel dirty and used, allowing my boss to take advantage of the fact that I have to follow his orders.

Is this how the women in Playboy feel? Never once have I questioned if selling dirty magazines is unethical, believing that the woman in them felt free and proud that they can be so open and sexual. Now I’m starting to think that perhaps that isn’t the case.

With my head resting against the back of the couch and my eyes fixated on the uneven tiles on the ceiling, I hear the door click open beside me. Internally sighing, I don’t avert my gaze as I speak.

“We’re closed!” Voice snappier than I intended it to be, however, I make no effort to apologize.

“I know, I’m sorry. I was just hoping you’d be here.”

Swinging my head to face the direction of the door, I match the voice to the speaker. Steve stands awkwardly in the entryway, eyes trailing over my body as I stand to greet him. His mouth drops open slightly, rubbing a hand over his plump cherry lips. Glancing down, I remember that I’m still only wearing the lingerie and heat floods my body.

“Shit, sorry. One second.”

I awkwardly jog to the back of the store as best I can in the heels strapped to my feet, I’m careful to wrap the long satin robe tightly around myself before making my way back over to Steve. Who stands in the same spot, unmoving. Eyes focused on me as I lean against the counter, arms crossed over my body in an effort to keep the robe covering me.

“So what can I help you with?” I ask, voice shaking every so slightly due to the interaction only moments ago.

“You look incredible in that.”

Although my eyes are firmly fixated on the ground, I smile nervously at his words. Hearing the shuffle of his feet, I look up only to see him standing just a couple of feet away from me. Clad in his sailor uniform once again, I allow myself to gaze over his physique. Thick legs that wear the shorts well, tight in all the right places. Arms defined showing off the muscles he has built. Pulling myself from my thoughts, I round the counter, hoping that the distance between us will ease the ache between my thighs.

“Steve I really should be closing, did you need help with something?”

I notice his eyes fall to his shorts, an impressive tent having formed and I have to hold my breath so as not to drop straight to my knees. Without a word, he slowly reaches across the counter, gently knocking the robe from my shoulders, exposing me to him once again.

“Just tell me to stop and I will.” He speaks quietly, so quiet I almost don’t catch it.

There’s a look of animalistic hunger on his face, one that is new to me. A stark contrast to the boyish smile he usually sports. Within seconds he’s leaning across the counter, capturing his lips with mine, one hand tightly grasping the back of my neck for support, whilst I grip at his shirt. His kiss is fuelled by passion and while it’s rough there’s a feeling of comfort that I can’t describe.

Without thinking, I’m striding back around the counter, pushing him backwards so that he flops down on the couch. Allowing me to take a seat on his lap, his erection firmly pressed in between my thighs, if I weren’t so focused on the moment, I’d most certainly be embarrassed by the wetness that begins to drip down my thighs.

Grinding myself slightly, I tug at his top, pulling it over his head quickly before throwing it behind me. His lips attach to my neck and I can feel him sucking gently, determined to leave a mark. A moan escapes my lips before I can stop myself, sparking a fire in his eyes as he grips my hips, guiding them to roll over his clothed length even harder.

His fingers move with haste as he works at the knot holding the flimsy bralette together, prying it off my body the moment the ties become loose. Grabbing his jaw, I pull his face back to mine, kissing him with burning desire as his hands move to palm my breasts. Our tongues entwine as his fingers brush over my nipple, releasing a soft gasp from me, to which he takes advantage. Dipping his head to suck and bite marks into my chest, I grab his hair tugging softly with every moan that he extracts from my body.

I can hear a groan escape his mouth, to which he covers it up quickly by dragging his tongue over my nipple. His hands playing with the other so as not to focus all his attention solely on one. Steve sucks gently, drawing unholy moan after moan from my body as I continue to feel the heat between our bodies.

Tipping my head back and pushing my breasts further into him, I find myself pushing a hand between our bodies. Slipping under his shorts and offering a short squeeze, causing the man to murmur a soft fuck as he continues to play with my nipples. From feeling his length in my hand, I can tell he’s big, bigger than I anticipated and much bigger than I’ve ever had. It scares me equally as much as it excites me.

It’s only when I begin to start delicately stroking up and down, that he pushes me to the side. Throwing me onto the couch gently so that I am laid on my back with him standing over me. As he smiles down at me, I can’t help but find the contrast between his soft smile and the dominance he has just been displaying amusing. A cheeky grin evident on my face.

“Where’s that knife?” He asks, fingers brushing over my throat as he stares down at me.

“Knife?”

“From the pictures.”

Nodding my head towards the countertop, I watch eagerly as he grabs it, clenching my thighs together as my mind drifts to what he is going to do with it. Much to my surprise, he gently pulls my body up so that I’m sat upright, before settling on his knees between my thighs. Pushing the thong to the side, he presses the blunt side of the knife to my heat, trailing it between my folds. When he removes it, it glimmers with the slick that is now definitely dripping onto the couch.

“Lick it.” He raises the knife to my mouth and I brush my tongue against it as directed, immensely turned on by the entire situation. “You’re such a good girl.”

If his words didn’t make me moan, I do when his tongue makes contact with my clit. Head falling back as I close my eyes, focused only on the pleasure he is giving me. Despite not having my eyes open, I am acutely aware of Steve reaching up to my throat and holding the sharp side of the knife directly on my neck. Pushing it gently, though not so much to draw blood.

“God, you’re such a good girl.”

He switches between sucking and licking my clit, his free hand moving to push two fingers into me ever so slowly. The sounds are inherently sinful, the way he’s lapping up everything I can offer him is downright filthy and yet I feel like I’m in heaven. He devours me as though I’m his last meal, moaning against me, vibrations adding to the already exhilarating pleasure I’m experiencing. God, if this is what he can do with his tongue, there was no reason for him to buy a vibrator.

As he continues to push his fingers into me at an unruly pace, his tongue swirls circles against my clit, pushing me further and further to the edge. My stomach feels tighter and I try to close my thighs, though he reacts by pushing the knife closer to my throat, reminding me of its presence.

“Holy fuck.” I whisper, coil within me snapping and my legs twitching as he continues to lick up anything I have left.

With a pleased grin, he pulls himself away from me, rising to his feet and even in my post orgasm daze, I drop to my knees. Hurriedly pulling his shorts down to his ankles, I grab his erection with both hands. Mouth falling open in shock as I wrap both my hands around him.

“Jesus Christ.” My voice is almost silent yet Steve still hears me, chuckling at my words.

“You gonna be able to handle it?” He asks and I waste no time in nodding, gazing up at him, eyes filled with lust. “Yeah you are.”

In an attempt to calm my nerves, I hesitantly lick from the tip to the base, mouth watering as I hear Steve’s breaths become shakier. Wrapping my lips around the tip, I slowly begin to bob my head up and down, unable to take the whole thing but trying my hardest. I allow myself to coat his member with my spit, using my hands to stroke whatever I can’t fit in my mouth. He bucks his hips involuntarily with a deep guttural moan and I can’t help but gag, eyes watering as he hits the back of my throat.

Pulling back with a gasp for air, I continue to stroke him with one hand, the other reaching for his balls. As I lean in to go for round two with my mouth, he grabs my hair softly, pulling me to look up at him. With mascara streaks running down my and saliva falling from one corner of my mouth, Steve smirks.

“I’d let you do that forever if I wasn’t so desperate to feel you.”

He helps me up, pushing my body over the countertop, before pulling the thong off me completely. I spread my legs for him, allowing him to see the effect he has on me, he circles my clit with one finger as his other hand grips his length. The tip smacking against me as he nervously rubs it over my hole.

“Steve please, I want you so bad.” I beg, feeling myself clenching around nothing as he teases me.

“Fuck you’re perfect.” He cautiously pushes the tip into me, my hands gripping the wood of the countertop at the stretch and I squeal slightly, from a mixture of pleasure and pain. “My perfect girl.”

He continues to push himself inside of me for what feels like an eternity, just when I think I’ve taken him all, he pushes further. I’ll admit it has been a while and with Steve’s size, the stretch burns and yet I want nothing more than to feel him inside of me forever.

The gentleman he is, he stills once completely sheathed within me, awaiting confirmation from me that he is able to move.

“Steve please fuck me now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice and instantly pulls himself out, almost completely before slamming back into me. Balls slapping against my clit in a way that teases me as he practically rips me in half. One hand pushes on my back, firmly holding me down against the counter as he continues to pound into me. The other grips my hip, knife still in hand though neither of us seem to pay any attention to it.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I saw you.” He states between moans, slamming into me at an almost brutal pace.

I’m able to slip one of my hands between the wooden surface and my body, bringing it to the space between my legs and gently teasing my clit, resulting in a string of profanities falling from my lips. Steve notices this and bats my hand away, taking over himself. His fingers are like magic and combined with the way he is ramming himself into me, I can feel myself on the brink of cumming once again.

“Oh my god, Steve I’m so close.”

Upon hearing this, he pulls my body upright, peppering kisses along my shoulders and the nape of my neck as he continues to drill into me at the same rough pace. Within a matter of seconds, I find vision spotting as I fall over the edge. Thighs sticky and wet with the remnants of my second orgasm. Steve allows me to fall back onto the countertop, continuing his assault on my vagina and the overstimulation drives me crazy. I’m a complete moaning mess and by the time he stills with a soft grunt, I have even more tears in my eyes.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He murmurs, pulling out of me gently and pressing yet another kiss to my neck.

Turning around to face him, he has a lazy fucked out grin on his face and I can’t help but feel proud that I’m the reason for that smile. I smile at the thought, and at the feeling of his cum beginning to spill out of me and down my legs. Steve takes my hands in his and flops back onto the couch, wrapping his arms around me as I rest my head on his chest.

“You know I actually came here hoping I would work up the courage to ask you on a date but this was so much better.” He admits, nuzzling his nose into my hair.

“Wow so I missed out on a date?” I tease, hugging into him even tighter.

“I mean, we can always break into Scoops and go have that date now.” He suggests, voice soft as though he’s afraid I will reject him.

“That sounds perfect.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #Steve Harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington fluff #strangers things imagine #Steve Harrington x fem #Steve Harrington fanfiction #stranger things au #Steve Harrington x fem!reader #Steve harrington x female reader smut

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nemesis-writer · 5 months ago

Text

Crybaby

Masterlist TW- neglect, almost-suicide, suicidal thoughts

She stood on the bridge In silence and fear, For the demons of darkness Had driven her here.

So close to falling yet so far from succeeding, I latched on to the bar hoping to make my self let go from the shivering rain. But no, I just held on wishing that a brother or father of mine could save me.

They cut her heart Right out of her chest, Making her believe That the demons knew best.

They depth of my hatred for them goes farther than the deepest oceans and the farthest galaxies. I guess from this you can tell that my life has always been described as a poem from the darkest poets such as Edgar Poe, or darker than the ebony that coats the outside of the unknown galaxy.

I've always loved myself for it, yet I've always been hated for it. The Waynes could also be mentioned as the Addams' family with a loyal butler, multiple suicidal kids, and 'loving parents'. Yet unlike the Waynes, at least the Addams family aren't full of rage and loathesome creatures.

The demons of my life have come from the very same family that held me, hurt me, neglected me, and despised me for the rest of my days.

They were always there, Sometimes just out of sight, Waiting in the background Till the time was right.

Damian was always the one I expected to push myself through the buildings that were made for despair my whole life. Jason, would be considered the first one to have memories with since he's trying to avoid showing the wretched hatred my father has for me.

Tim, Cassandra, Stephanie, and Barbara considered me useless, unintelligent, and fatally naive to the outside world. Then there's Dick, the eldest, the role model, the possibly apple of dear old dad's eye, he on the other hand found me as a means to an end, who wouldn't?

Bruce, I was stupid to assume that we could connect as a father-daughter would. Every day he wished to send me back to the adoption center and nullify all the papers that was supposed to make me a Wayne.

These demons were destructive, Knocking down the life she knew, Hating everything about her; She hated herself, too.

The family that I was inured to, has stabbed, beaten, and thrown me away like an animal. I was considered more as a stray animal begging for love and attention. The human beings that I consider myself to be connected to is Alfred and Jesse. Alfred is the Lurch of this family while Jesse is another being that has kept me from losing sanity in this jail they call home.

I got lucky to graduate just in time before I let myself drown from neglect. But sadly we can't simply run away from the demons we bear.

These demons can't be seen, But they're far from fairy tales. They live inside your mind; Their evilness prevails.

People thought I'm crazy for being ungrateful of this life, my words are deemed fraudulent. But my appearance is out of order, my clothing is ragged, my hair remains dry and bristling, my body now shows malnourishment and scars from my demons. Yet, my eyes remained the same, broken, in front of the face I was gifted to be beautiful became a mask for the truth, my face was meant to be scarred.

I've never felt the scars go deeper yet I never minded of it. But as I was about to let go of the bars that held my fear in it I heard a voice.

"Hello lady what are you doing?"

It was a voice of a little five year old girl.

"Just enjoying the rain little one. Where are your parents at?"

"I don't have any, I just like being alone."

I jumped over the bar back to the bridge, looking at her with sadness.

"Want me to take you back to the center?"

"Suree, Thank youuu!", She giggled.

And we went on our way back.

So on the bridge she stood, About to end the fight. Then she stopped and thought I'll fight them one more night.

Taglist

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz, @vanessa-boo, @ivyrose9194,@thesehandsarerated-e

#yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #yandere damian wayne #yandere richard grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere barbara gordon #yandere tim wayne #gifs #neglected reader #melanie martinez #crybaby reader #assassin reader

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l3tm31nn0w · 7 months ago

Text

At His Mercy

Mr. Reed (Heretic) x fem reader

You’re a PhD theology student wasting time at religious convention, bored out of your mind until you meet a charismatic older man who shares your interest in religion and blasphemy.

Warnings: p in v sex, religious trauma, age gap (reader is of age, nearly 30), degradation, oral (m and f receiving), overstimulation, wax play, religion used in an erotic way

(I have never written fanfic in my LIFE that’s how down bad I am for this man, forgive me if this is a mess lol)

You walked up to the mediocre coffee station for the third time that morning, preparing to stay awake through another dull lecture. It was day two of the Colorado Theology Conference and you had lost patience halfway through day one. You had hoped for more academic and agnostic speakers, but so far you’d heard nothing but actual Christian pastors and priests rambling on about the state of modern religion. For Christ sakes the keynote speaker was a goddamn prosperity preacher! You had to stay as long as could to please the big wigs at the university, each program had to send a PhD candidate for “professional development” and this was all they could find for religious studies. Lucky you.

As you poured the burnt coffee into your already stained styrofoam cup you glanced around the table trying to spot the little creamer cups to no avail. “Are you fucking kidding me?” You said under your breath, clearly louder than intended. “Well there’s always sugar!” You whipped your head to the direction of the voice, fearing youd get scolded by some pastor for daring to curse. The voice, a posh British accent that felt out of place in this cursed convention center, belonged to a middle aged man. He had a kind smile that reached his blue eyes effortlessly. He produced three small sugar packets and handed them to you. “I wish I could drink it black but I can’t handle the bitterness.” He chuckled as you mixed the packets into your cup. You smiled back at him and squinted to read his name tag, delighted that pastor was missing from his name. “Thank you Mr. Reed, I’m just glad to see a man that’s not a preacher in this room.”

His eyes traveled across your body and you almost called him out but he spoke before you could say anything. “I take it you’re not a woman of the cloth yourself, I hate to judge a book by its cover but I doubt many Christian churches would want that on display.” He pointed to the tattoo on your sternum. You giggled and relaxed, realizing he hadn’t been in ogling you, he’d simply been looking at your tattoo. He was the first person this weekend to look at it and smile, most had sneered at you once they realized what it depicted, not that any of them really knew beyond thinking it was a demon. “I know it’s not a good look for an old man like myself to be staring at a young ladies chest, but indulge me” his posh voice lowered with the last words and you felt yourself growing unexpectedly warm. “That fellow there” he said point towards collarbone “is Asmodeus, yes?” You looked up at him, realizing how handsome he really was up close. He had a classic attractiveness to him that no doubt made him popular when he was younger, but there was a bookish innocence to him even at his older age that drew you in. His instant recognition of the demon on your chest must’ve made you visibly light up because he beamed a smile right back at you. “You’re the first person to actually know who he is this entire weekend! I’ve gotten lots of comments but I’m sure you can imagine they were less than kind based on the crowd we have here.” He raised his eyebrows and nodded, enthusiastically agreeing with you about the overly zealous convention goers.

Relieved to have met someone with a more academic background you blurted out “I’m Y/N! Please sit with me during the next lecture? I think I’ll die if I’m stuck sitting between anymore church moms or worship leaders.” He smiled again, making the crows feet surrounding his blue eyes wrinkle up. “Absolutely Y/N, but only if we can sit in the back and whisper nasty jokes about whatever nonsense is being said on stage.” You laughed, a genuine laugh, and began walking towards the ballroom where the next lecture was taking place.

“So what brings you here Mr. Reed? You must be an academic if you’re not a Bible thumper like all these people. Forgive me for judging a book by its cover as well, but you must be a professor?” He certainly looked like one with autumnal colored cardigan, grey slacks and large clear rimmed glasses. “Oh goodness no, you flatter me! I’m just an old man with an interest in religion. I’ve been studying it for decades at this point. I’ve been to quite a few of these things, but usually they’re filled with academics not religious nuts. I think this one was advertised a bit incorrectly. I’m guessing you’re on your way to being a professor though?” He quiered back at you. “Yes, I’m getting my PhD in religious studies. I’ve been into religion as long as I can remember as well, I guess not as long as you. Oh god sorry that was rude!” You blushed a bright red realizing you’d called Mr. Reed old. He simply laughed and said “Darling don’t apologize for having eyes, I’ve clearly got a few decades on you! You must be what? 30 at most?” The blush from early only deepened at the pet name. Attempting to gain composure you coughed and replied “30 in April!” “Trust me, I’m ancient history compared to you.”

The two of you settled into the back row of the ballroom and you nodded toward the speaker, a Baptist minister who looked like he’d been alive during the crucifixion. You lowered your voice to a whisper “well not as ancient as HIM.” Mr. Reed stifled his laughter, a challenge you both attempted and mostly failed as you whispered back and forth for the next hour.

After the lecture the two of you slinked out the back worried you’d get a talking to for being too loud during the lecture. You looked at the paper schedule from your pocket and sighed “the damn keynote is next. I don’t think I can handle that grifter.” Mr. Reed grimaced in agreement. He looked down at his watch and then up at you. “Would you allow me to take you lunch darling?” There was the pet name again and with it came a flush in your cheeks. You chewed your lip, deliberating it. You were supposed to sit through the scheduled lectures and bring back notes for your thesis team, a way to prove the university’s investment in professional development wasn’t wasted even though it most certainly was in this instance. You looked up at Mr. Reed, studying his expression. You wanted to know more about this mysterious religious enthusiast full of dirty jokes who got excited by demons. Surely he had stories that would be more impactful than that prosperity preacher! You lied to yourself saying it was purely academic when in reality the heat pooling in your stomach was getting hard to ignore. You’d always fancied older men, but until now it was always talk. Always a day dream. Here was a handsome older gentleman who had a lot in common with you who was seemingly flirting without being creepy. You couldn’t let this chance pass. “It would be my pleasure! Let’s get out of here.” Your new companion’s face lit up and he guided you out the door of the convention hall. “Don’t laugh at how cliche this is, but there’s a rather good English pub down the road how does that sound?” You tightened your scarf around your face and nodded, a slight giggle escaping at that suggestion coming from the posh accent.

After a couple of blocks you’d reached your destination and settled into a booth at the back of the dark, cozy pub. “Can I ask a personal question that may be slightly uncomfortable?” Mr. Reed posited. You were becoming slightly infatuated and really had nothing to lose at this point. “I’m an open book, ask away!” “What is your reasoning for getting our good friend asmodeus etched upon your lovely collarbone? I know you’re far too smart for the standard answer of “he looks neat.”” You knew this would be coming the second he had recognized the demon on your chest. If you were going here, you wanted to play with him a little. “Well Mr. Reed, I can answer that, but first I need you to tell me what you know about Asmodeus.” Your older companion smiled at you dangerously and began, “Well, he’s present in all the abrahamic religions, usually as a demon king. He’s closely associated with the Angel Raphael. And, forgive me for being so crass, I hope this last reason may have motivated your tattoo: in the late Middle Ages the Malleus Maleficarum posited that he was the demon of lust.” His final word went straight to your core. You were almost dizzy from the rush of endorphins hitting you, sure it was hot that was boldly and blatantly flirting with you, but his knowledge of all the things that interested you the most may have been even sexier to you. You smiled coyly. “It’s your lucky day then Mr. Reed. His association with lust was absolutely the motivating factor.” He grinned at you and gave a look suggesting he wanted you to elaborate. “I was raised Catholic. My parents were all about it, we were constantly volunteering at the church. So at one point in high school me and this friend, Gabe, are put in charge of cleaning out the sensors. One day I walk in and see the parish priest trying to put a move on Gabe and I put myself between them. I tell the creep I’m running straight to the diocese and to my parents to get his ass fired. Well by the time I get home my mother is SCREAMING at me calling me a whore of Babylon, a jezebel. My father won’t look me in the eye. Turns out the creep priest had called my house and told my mom he caught me and Gabe fornicating in the church office and that Gabe told him I let all the other high school altar boys take turns with me. Obviously none of it was true, I was a virgin and Gabe was in the closet, which father creep knew and probably used to get Gabe to fall into line with his story. For the rest of high school I was the Catholic school slut and that came with all the cat calling and groping you can imagine. You’d think that would break my spirits when it came to religion, but it had been with me so long I couldn’t let it go. I didn’t believe the way my family did, but the stories, the imagery it all meant so much to me. So I fuck off at 18 and go to college in a different state for theology. Turns out I’m good at it. I graduate with honors. I get into a top choice masters program. I graduate from that program with honors. I know I’m hot shit and I feel like I’m hot shit and that I’ve come a long long way from being the Catholic school slut so I find the perfect image of Asmodeus and get him smack dab in the middle of my slut chest. Because he’s more than lust, he’s power, he’s danger. It’s a shame though, I spent so much time with my head in a book I never got to live up to my alleged Catholic slut persona.”

The second you finish your story your confidence falters and you feel your cheeks flush. You cannot believe you just shared all that with this man you’ve only known for a few hours. Mr. Reed broke the silence by quietly saying “You’re extraordinary.” You could tell he was being sincere and it made your heart beat faster. If he kept this up your old reputation may come true. “Well now you know my edgy religious trauma backstory, let’s hear yours!” He chuckled. “Well I can’t say I was ever accused of being the town harlot, though I don’t think I’d fit that part visually anyway.” You rolled your eyes at him, sick of his subtle self deprecation. He had to know he was handsome. Sure, he was old enough to be your father, but his age suited his features. The lines around his mouth and eyes came to life when he smiled. His greying hair was touseled in that messily attractive sort of way. The large glasses that sat in his face added to the sexy professor vibe he gave off. “Honestly I’ve got no tragic backstory. I’ve just craved the connection to a higher power since as long as I can remember. I wasn’t raised religious so as soon as I could read I started searching for the one true god. There’s so many religions is exhausting. Each of them have their own special qualities, but there was always something that let me down. I learned literally as much as I could. I’ve collected so many books and artifacts that my house looks like a damned theology museum. Then I found it. After my years and years and years of searching. I found the one true religion, the one true god.” He said those final words very seriously which contrasted greatly with his general quirky demeanor. You let out a little gasp. “So you’re not agnostic or an atheist then? I just assumed the way we were talking with each other you were agnostic like me!” “I was the picture of agnosticism for many many years. I don’t know what my discovery makes me. There’s no way to describe it.” Ok, now you were a little nervous. Was the handsome academic before you secretly a cult freak? He clearly sensed your discomfort and lightened the mood. “Enough of that though, you’re not some religious nut who needs to be convinced. I respect a solid agnostic. It’s good to be open to anything.” You smiled back at him, feeling just a bit more at ease.

You continued to chat about yourselves and various religious facts and oddities as you ate. Eventually you exited the restaurant and realized how long you’d been lost in conversation. The sun had begun to set and you weren’t quite ready to leave your new companion. His assertion of knowing the one true religion wouldn’t leave your mind. An old building across the road caught your eye. You looked over to Mr. Reed, his nose starting to flush pink with the cold. “Humor me?” You said as you stuck your gloved hand out to him. He smiled and placed his much larger hand in yours. You pulled him across the road and into the old stone building, a rundown yet still beautiful Catholic Church.

Despite your distaste for your family and your upbringing, you always felt a warmth and a comfort inside a Catholic Church. This one was small, but still had all the hallmarks of a cathedral: stained glass, wooden carvings of the stations of the cross, a giant crucifix of Christ in all his gory glory dead center of the aisle. You always found that there was a certain blasphemous sensuality in the depictions of Christ. Maybe you weren’t beating the Catholic slut allegations after all.

As you guided Mr. Reed into the church you paused to anoint yourself with holy water, old habits die hard after all. He skipped the water but followed you as you trailed around the church, your eyes on the architecture and decor, his eyes never leaving you. You finally settled into a few towards the front near the donation candles. The two of you were the only occupants and you closed your eyes, savoring the moment. Eyes still closed, you rested your hand on his and whispered “Thank you for seeing me. Nobody has ever seen me the way that you have.” You were met with silence, but his larger hand covered yours. After a continued moment of silence you opened your eyes and turned to him. “Please. What is this one true religion you believe so much in? I have to know. I can’t fathom parting ways and never knowing.” He looked at you very seriously. “Are you sure you want to know?” “Please.” You whispered desperately. “Ok, then close your eyes again.” He said in a hushed tone. You did as you were told and you felt him brush a strand of hair behind your ear. He leaned in close enough that you could feel his lips graze your ear and whispered “Control.”

Your entire body felt as if it was engulfed in flames. You squeezed the hand that still remained in your grasp and your eyes fluttered open. His gaze was hungry. You stared directly at him and said, louder than any of your previous conversation in the church, “Mr. Reed I think I’d like you to take me to see that theology museum you mentioned earlier.” “Of course darling.” In stark contrast to the way you had lazily lead him by his hand into the church, he quickly lead you out with his hand pressed firmly onto the small of your back. The old woman working the volunteer desk shot the two of you a puzzled look, she had no doubt assumed you were father and daughter until she saw the way his hand rested just above your ass.

He whisked you back to the convention hall parking lot and opened his car door for you, ever the gentleman. He had asked if you’d driven to the convention and if you wanted to drive separate, but you had ubered from your modest student housing. The two of you continued to make conversation as you had all evening, Mr. Reed even mentioning specific artifacts he would show you when you arrived at his house. Despite this the sexual tension was thick and heavy in his small sedan. A small part of you was screaming to yourself that this was insane and reckless, going to a second location with a man you just met today. But you had secretly wanted your day to end this way nearly the second you met him. His course whisper of the word control had sent you over the edge. All you do is think and decide and it gets so fucking exhausting. The idea of turning yourself over to him to do with you as he liked was just too good to pass up.

He pulled up to his house and opened up the car door, leading you into his house. You couldn’t help but smile as you walked in. It was adorable. It had the soft welcoming quality of a grandparents house. You wouldn’t dare say this aloud for fear of making him self conscious about his age. “Oh Mr. Reed your house is lovely! It’s so cozy!” You exclaimed. He smiled at you and then noticed you were shivering. “Cup of tea to warm you through?” He asked. You nodded and he disappeared into the kitchen. You settled onto a couch and before long he returned with two cups of tea. As he handed you yours his fingers brushed your hand for an extended moment and it sent shocks through you. Much to your embarrassment he noticed and winked. You drank your tea and continued to talk aimlessly until finally he said “Would you like to see some of my collection?” You nodded enthusiastically. Sure, “seeing his theology museum” was a ploy for him to take you home and fuck you senseless, but you also were dying to see his collection and he knew it.

He grabbed your hand and guided you down a dimly lit hallway into a large office. It was chock full of books, artifacts and paintings. You could’ve lost hours in here. He had things from just about every religion you’d ever heard of, there were probably a ton that you had no clue about. He let you wander around for a moment then retreated into a corner, returning with an intricate crucifix. “I think you’ll love this one, I saw how you looked at the one at the church.” He handed it over to you and you brought it close to your face to inspect the detailed paint job. It was a wooden carving, probably late medieval or early northern renaissance. The paint had faded, but the details of Christ’s wounds still shone a bright red. You rubbed your finger absentmindedly up the naked torso of the figurine and you felt Mr. Reed’s breath on your neck. “I watched you look upon the lord in that church and could tell your thoughts weren’t so holy. Is that your grand rebellion against your upbringing? Fantasizing about fucking Jesus?” You whipped around and faced him, your lips nearly touching. His pale eyes bore into you and for the first time this evening you were genuinely speechless. That serious, almost scathing tone from back at the church had returned. “How many times have you sat up late at night and touched yourself looking at him while you study? Do your droll professors know you’re soaking through your panties when they’re running through their slides?” Your face had to be deep red at this point and he was clearly relishing in your embarrassment. “When was the last time you got fucked y/n?” You looked away from him and that was all the answer he needed. “At what point today did you start imagining me fucking you?” He asked smugly. You thought back, trying to pinpoint the exact moment your thoughts turned to sin. “When you pointed out my tattoo. I thought you were checking me out, but realized you were genuinely curious about the tattoo. You knew what he was.” His eyebrow raised, seemingly pleased and shocked at your answer. “I thought you were handsome from the moment you handed me the sugar packets, I have eyes after all, but your intelligence is what sent a fire through me.”

You felt brave and brought your hands up to his hair, rifling your fingers through his soft greying locks. He closed his eyes and hummed an approval. After you broke the seal by touching him, he finally placed his hands around your waist and pulled you towards him, your chests flushed against each other. Your lips were barely grazing when he whispered

“Behold, you are beautiful, my love;

behold, you are beautiful;

your eyes are doves.”

Who was this man? One second he’s degrading you, the next he’s holding you tenderly quoting the Song of Solomon.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he broke the small gap and kissed you. It was a a chaste kiss, perhaps revealing he simply talked a big game and he himself hadn’t had a lover in some time. That was fine by you, there was something alluring about breaking him in. You went in for another kiss, hotter and heavier than his, your hands gripping his scalp, a moan building in the back of your throat. You broke the kiss and began placing kisses across his face and neck, settling in to craft a hickey on his right side. You left his neck with a pop, satisfied by the red mark left behind. You whispered into his ear “and when was the last time you fucked, Mr. Reed?” He brought his hands up to your face, pulling it to look him in the eye. “I must confess darling it’s been quite a minute. Once you reach my age the options slim out. I’m also not one to just stick my cock in whatever makes itself available. You, my dear, are special. And if you’ll let me, I can show you that while it may have been awhile for me, I promise you I’m not out of practice.” You answered him with another kiss. He smiled and released you, causing you to frown at the lack of contact.

“Give me just one second!” He called back to you as he began running around his office. He began putting together what you could only describe as a nest in the middle of the floor laying blankets and pillows around. He grabbed your hand and guided you to the floor. “Now darling, will you let me show you how a man treats a lady? I doubt those piddly little boys you’ve messed around with had a clue how to make your body sing.” His words went straight to your core. The idea of an age gap alone always turned you on, the allure of an experienced, tender older man who knew how to treat a lady. You let him lay you down and said “I’m at your mercy now Mr. Reed.”

He lay next to you and resumed kissing you passionately. As he slipped his tongue into your mouth he began slipping his hand under your sweater. “What a good Catholic slut you are!” He mused, pinching one of your nipples. You rarely ever wore a bra, especially under your thick winter sweaters. You let out a soft moan in response. He massaged your breast further and you stifled another moan. “Darling it’s just us, you can do better than that. “O come, let us sing to the LORD; let us make a joyful noise”” He tweaked your nipple at the end of the quote and you moaned deeply, both at the stimulation and the persevere use of a psalm. He pulled your sweater off leaving your chest bare, the cold air hardening your nipples. He wasted no time taking one into his mouth, licking and sucking while he stimulated the other with his hand. It was all going straight to your core, you needed him to touch you where it mattered.

“Please” you huffed out. He brought his face close to yours and asked “Please what? You’re a big girl use your words.” Your face flushed, suddenly feeling a wave of embarrassment. You were never one to talk dirty or ask for specifics when you had sex, you always worried it would kill the mood. Deep down you knew this was part of the turn on for him though so you managed to sputter out “Please play with my pussy. I need it, I need it so bad it hurts.” He places a kiss on your forehead and replied “what a good girl using her words. How I could I ever deny you.” Despite the slight condescending tone, the use of “good girl” made you moan. He would remember this.

He brought his hand down to your jeans and rubbed through the thick material. It did practically nothing and you knew this was just another ploy for you to beg him using your words. “Mr. Reed please please touch me bare, please I need your fingers.” He smiled and began sliding your jeans off. He chuckled when he got to your underwear. “Listen I didn’t imagine I’d be getting lucky at the religious convention!” You squeaked out hiding your face. You’d absentmindedly thrown on a pair of boy short style underwear patterned with French fries. “Is it too forward to say suddenly I’m craving a McDonald’s?” You playfully kicked his leg and you both chuckled. “I would never allow a poor old man to starve.” You replied faux dramatically.

As he went to pull down your underwear he exclaimed “my god, am I this powerful? These are sopping wet.” It was true, he’d been turning you on for hours at this point and by the time you’d made it back to his little chapel your underwear was so wet it almost felt like you’d had an accident. “Then do something about it!” You huffed. He pulled the garment down your legs and you were finally laid bare before him. You had no clothes on and he had everything still on, down to the grandpa cardigan. Laid out in his office decorated like a church you felt like a sacrifice. That only turned you on more.

He pulled your legs apart as wide as they could go and gazed up your sex. Despite his academic cool guy demeanor, you were really beginning to see just how turned on he was. His face was flushed, his hands trembled slightly as they gripped your thighs. His erection was straining through his trousers, clearly large enough for you to have plenty of fun with later. He moved his hands from your thighs to your vulva and spread you open, sighing lustfully as he did. He took an index finger and rimmed it around your entrance, gathering your juices before bringing his finger in lazy circles around your clit. You moaned, a deep guttural moan. You were too caught up in the ecstasy of finally being touched to see just how much this affected him. He continued to slowly stroke you while he brought his lips back to your nipple, sucking and nibbling. The dual stimulation was heavenly. He brought his lips to your ear and whispered “Darling may I taste you?” You moaned at the thought and then, in a moment of theological clarity, caressed his cheek and replied “My beloved has gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to browse in the gardens and to gather lilies. I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine; he browses among the lilies.” He seemed just as turned on by religious quotation as you, his eyes widened before he slunk back down to your pussy, spreading it wide before feasting upon you.

He took an experimental lick from your entrance to your clit and you cried out. Clearly amused by your reaction, he focused on your clit, alternating between licking and sucking in a painfully slow fashion. You were moaning in a way you would’ve considered deeply embarrassing had you had the clarity to hear yourself: a high pitched whiny squeal that sounded like something out of a porno. This entire scenario, the dashing older man eating out the young bookish girl, was straight out of a porn so perhaps your wailing was fitting.

As you felt your climax build, he cruelly pulled away. “Noooo don’t stop please!” You whined, lightly kicking his arm. He looked up at you and you found that his gaze had shifted back to the confident, predatory one you’d seen at the actual church. He climbed up your body until you were face to face and he held your chin in a strong grasp. “Are you going to be a good girl? Because only good girls get to cum.” You nodded frantically. “You said earlier you were at my mercy, I’m going to put that to the test now. If you disobey me I’ll leave you crying on the floor with no release and no chance at getting my cock.” Your eyes widened, what on earth did he mean with his test? Your mind was too clouded with lust to question anything. You needed him. “Anything Mr. Reed I’ll do anything you want. I’m your good girl please let me show you.” He chuckled at your desperation. “Wait right here then my good girl, I need to grab some things. Something from me and something from you.”

He left you laying on the floor wondering what he could possibly mean by something from you. After what felt like ages he returned. In his hands he held an ornate candlestick with the Virgin Mary carved into the side. A deep red candle was affixed to the top. “This” he said setting the candle on the ground “is from me.” He rifled into his cardigan pocket for something. “And this is from you. I think most people would say good girls don’t carry this in their purse, but I would wager I’m not most people.” He produced a small black rubber ball with a small hole at the top. You stared at in, confused, and then realization set in. It was a vibrator. You had gone out to lunch with your roommate from undergrad a week ago and she had given it to you as a joke, calling it your date for Valentine’s Day. She’d been married with kids for 5 years at this point and constantly nagged at you to settle down so the vibrator was par for the course, a usual humiliation from her. At the time you’d rolled your eyes at her and thrown it in your bag forgetting about it. Your companion must have rifled through your belongings when you got up to use the bathroom at the restaurant. He sat down on the floor and motioned for you to come to him. “Lay against me pet.” He said patting his chest. You backed into him, your ass against his straining erection and your head leaning back onto his shoulder. It was almost too intimate a position for a one night stand. If that’s all this was.

“Here is what’s going to happen. I am going to take this candle, light it, and drip its wax down your delectable body. While I’m doing that I will be holding this vibrator firmly against your clit. Now I know I’m not some big muscle freak, but I am certainly strong enough to hold you down and I will do so. You will not cum until I give you permission. If you agree to this right now I will not listen to any pleas of stop or no, but I know that you won’t dare even utter those words.” Your heart was racing and you felt yourself grow even wetter, something you didn’t think was possible at this point. Earlier when you’d mentally imagined fucking your new friend you’d imagined he would kiss you and fondle your breast a little before fucking you in missionary. You’d never anticipated wax play and edging from an aging British amateur theologian.

“I told you Mr. Reed. I’m at your mercy.” You huffed out, snuggling your head into his neck as if to prove how serious you were about staying. “Atta girl” He said, placing a kiss on your forehead. He started by lighting the candle. Once the wax began dripping down to the candle holder he lifted it off the ground and hovered it above your naked body. “You, LORD, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light.” The psalm slipped past his lips as the hot wax hit your breasts. It felt incredible, especially as he held you flush against him. His right arm held you firm in place against him even as his hand, which held the vibrator, snaked closer and closer to your core. Finally you felt the cold silicone divot pressed firmly over your clit. You shuddered at the contact, already sensitive from his fingers and mouth. He hit the button on the side of the device and it whirred to life. Just as the vibration began he poured more wax down your torso. The stimulation was already mind numbing. He began whispering passages from revelation in your ear, the twisted words of angels unleashing chaos on mankind only sending me further into your hedonistic frenzy. The Catholic slut had been fully realized. The vibrator attacked your clit you felt yourself teetering just on the edge of release, somehow holding out simply to please him, to serve him.

Tears began rolling down your cheek, not from the pain of the hot wax, but from the pure ecstasy this man was inflicting upon you. There was nothing left in the world, just you and him. His soft cardigan against your skin, his wispy grey curls tickling your eyes as you hid your face in the crook of this neck, his gentle voice in your ear. Suddenly that voice switched from revelation back to a passage from a psalm: “Deep calls to deep at the noise of your waterfalls. All your waves and your billows have swept over me.” Your entire body erupted into white hot light, your climax racking through your very being. Mr. Reed set down the candle and turned off the vibrator and brought you even closer to him, bringing you fully into his lap with his arms around your waist. You sobbed into his neck, so overwhelmed and overstimulated by what you had just experienced. “Oh my beautiful girl you are more marvelous than I could’ve ever imagined.”

Once you had stopped crying and come down from your orgasm a little, he tapped your side and helped you stand up. He guided you out of his faux church and down the hall into what you assumed must be his bedroom. He laid you down on the bed and left for moment, not without kissing you first. While you waiting for him you took in your surroundings. The walls were covered in a deep red floral wallpaper. The bedding was soft, though a little worn. He had more religious artifacts adorning his walls and shelves. You even spied Dan Brown’s Angels and Demons amongst a stack of books. You would tease him for that later. He returned with a large glass of water and handed it to you. As you sipped the cool water he started undressing, stripping down to a white tshirt and plaid boxers. You set the glass down on his bedside table and held your arms out to him. He climbed in the bed next to you and began kissing you fervently. His hands explored your body and despite the previous orgasm you found yourself growing slick with want yet again.

Now that he was freed from his trousers you reached your hand down and stroked his length through his boxers. He let out a delicious moan in response, his cool demeanor fully melted away and replaced with need. As you kissed him through his moans and continued to palm at him you wondered how long it had been since he’d been this intimate with someone. That’s really what was happening here, this was far more than a one night stand. You wanted to make him feel good, to elicit an orgasm that brought him to tears just like he had done for you.

Breaking the kiss you slid your hand under his shirt and gently guided it over his head. Once you’d removed his shirt you kissed him deeply, leaving his lips and trailing kisses down his chest. When you reached just above his boxers you raised an eyebrow, surprised to see a happy trail leading to your main event. You kissed along the patch of hair and slowly slid his boxers down. His cock sprung forward and you couldn’t help but moan a little at the sight of him. He was a good 7inches and decently thick. Circumsized too, so god must be pleased.

You began stroking his bare length and he shuddered. Leaning forward, you took his entire length into your mouth in one quick motion and he yelled. As you went to work he gripped your hair holding you tight in place. “Oh my sweet girl my good girl you make me feel divine” he sputtered out between moans. You loved how vocal he was and you couldn’t wait to hear him when he was inside you.

Suddenly his grip on your scalp released and he pulled your head off of him. Fearing you’d done something wrong you looked up at him with big doe eyes, waiting for a response. He pulled you up so that you were straddling him and brought your head to rest against his. “And the two shall become one flesh.” He whispered before pulling you into a kiss you could only describe as romantic. Sure you were both naked and your wet cunt was planted firmly on his rock hard cock, but there was something innocent and pure about that kiss. He scooted up against the headboard and pulled you firmly onto his lap, your tits right at eye level. He lifted you onto him and you both groaned in ecstasy as he entered you. Unable to control yourself you began riding him, needing to feel him go deep inside you. The sounds coming from your soaking union were obscene, complimented by your once again pornographic high pitched squeals and his guttural moans. He held you flush against him, your breasts smothering his face. He nipped and sucked at your nipples again, feeling the rush of warm wet slick it caused. “Imagine what your old classmates would think of you now, piercing yourself on an old atheist’s cock.” The dirty talk was back and you knew his voice alone could guide you to a second climax. “If god was real then he designed you just for me, he made your sweet little cunt ripe for my taking. MY perfect little Catholic slut.” He growled out the word “my” emphasizing the feeling you already held near and dear to your heart, you were his. With those words ringing in your ear you came hard and fast around his cock and he followed shortly after. You could feel his warm seed filling you and mixing with your own cum, dripping out of your weeping hole.

You both just held each other, his cock softening inside you. He finally pulled out and the two of you hobbled to his bathroom. He guided you into the shower and you both just enjoyed each other’s silent company as you cleaned off the evidence of your lecherous evening. You stayed under the warm water awhile longer after he left, just soaking in the steam. When you climbed out and began drying yourself off he re-entered the bathroom holding a pair of plaid boxers and a faded old Radiohead t shirt. “I get to stay?” You asked grabbing the clothes from him and pulling him into a kiss. “Darling if I had it my way you’d never leave.” You pulled on his clothes and climbed into his bed with him, falling asleep in his arms as if it was the place you were destined to be.

***

Four months later when you crossed the stage to accept your doctoral diploma, you beamed with pride and relief that for the first time in your academic career they didn’t call out the last name that belonged to your family who had thrown you out so carelessly. No, they announced you as Dr. Reed.

After a whirlwind month of romance and hedonism, Mr. Reed had proposed to you. It was insane, your friends thought, marrying a man old enough to be your father that you’d just met, but when they saw the two of you together the couldn’t argue. It truly seemed that you were two halves of a whole.

You were hired by the university you’d graduated from as a theology professor and you and your husband lived a blissful life. You opened him up more and would bring your friends around for dinner parties and game nights. He would still linger at your side like a puppy dog even as he grew more comfortable around people. The house you shared was always ooh’d and ahh’d at by company. Occasionally you’d be asked “what’s behind those twin doors in the office?” and you’d smile and politely reply “oh it’s just old storage there, nothing fancy to show off. In fact it’s a mess, I’d be embarrassed for you to see!” and your husband would squeeze your arm and smile at you, proud that you’d converted to his one true religion.

#heretic #Mr. Reed x reader #mr reed x reader #Mr Reed #heretic 2024

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versevibess · 29 days ago

Text

Commandress

Cassian X Reader

PART FIVE

Part Four

Part Three

Part Two

Part One

SUMMARY:

The Commandress grows closer to the members of the night court and gives her final answer to the High Lord. Cassian’s absence makes her heart grow fonder, yet once everything snaps into place, her first instinct tells her to run.

WARNINGS:

SMUT, minors DNI. This was my first time writing smut and I hope my Cassian girls have been FED. I don’t know what kind of warnings to add so just assume everything until I figure it out <3

I can probably note that it was rough, could be rougher though x

18+ under the cut!!!!

Nonsense.

Dare I say it, but the High Lady was talking absolute nonsense.

I had two days to stew over her words; that my heart may not be entirely content, regardless of whether I held my wings. Two days to heal and two days until I had to tell the High Lord and Lady that I planned to stay.

My back still ached with pain, yet mostly my muscles had become accustomed to the weight of my new, or old, wings. I could walk freely throughout the house, climb in and out of bed without wincing from the strings of pain holding my limbs together. Yet it seemed as though my stomach, my heart, had not entirely achieved the same.

Cassian had been gone for a few days.

Those few days felt like an eternity, even by fae standards.

We had gotten to know one another well, although not enough for me to feel this way. I couldn’t place what it was, but I felt so drawn to him that each time I found us apart, my gut would twist in such a horrific way that I thought perhaps I had fallen ill; that I had caught a virus of some sort, or that he was using magic to toy with me. Regardless of what it may be, I found myself thinking of him, before I slept, as soon as I woke. Thinking of the way he’d hold me as we soared through the sky’s, how the Lord of Bloodshed seemed so soft at heart, how he kissed my temple so delicately as I withered away in bed. Sometimes I thought so hard about it all that I could feel his chest beneath my palm still, that smooth plane of hard muscle, the soft patter of his heart.

Some nights, the thoughts would lead to unsavoury acts.

It had been a while, since I had any sort of sexual attraction to any man. After spending years secluded with nothing but females and young surrounding me, sex wasn’t even a thought. Of course, I had engaged in it before, yet only with whichever male at whatever tavern seemed the least unbearable; it was meaningless, a quick release which I would soon after realise I was better off before hand. It made me feel sickly, yet once I thought about doing those sickly things with him, it would turn sweet.

On one hand, I thought about how I would need to restrain myself from ripping the leathers from his back and climbing on top of him once he returned. On the other hand, I couldn’t bare the thought of the Illyrian warriors believing I was second in command because I had persuaded him with open legs.

‘If you listen close enough, I think you’ll find that your bed is calling my name too.’

His words lingered in my mind for longer than I would like to admit.

•

Morrigan, once again, helped me in dressing for Solstice Eve dinner.

She made an effort to pick out my gown for tomorrow as well, one similar to the one I had worn that night we ventured out in Velaris. This time it was a satin of deep emerald green, to match my siphons she said, with a deep chocolate brown shawl of fur. Tonight’s dress was much more simple, a slate grey thick cotton with a square neckline, embroidered with silver thread. She had to summon the slats with magic, I didn’t have her down as much of a sewer anyway.

He had arrived as I was buttoning the dress with the new power of my siphons, glowing green threads pouring down my back to where they threaded each cotton coated button with care. I could smell him, almost following the scent of sandalwood and melted snow with my eyes to where it dragged through the hallway, down to the entrance of the House. My cheeks flushed as I patted down my dress, my body tingling with both nerves and excitement.

Mor had already darted out of the door upon his arrival, and I didn’t hesitate to follow close behind. Although my steps were slowed with the weight of my wings, I almost tore through each door as if I was searching for him. My body was betraying me, in a wicked cruel way. It was telling me something that my mind simply couldn’t comprehend.

He was grinning from ear to ear once I reached the landing, deeply engrossed in conversation with Rhysand and Morrigan, yet when his eyes met mine, they never left. My brain was a wreck of rushing thoughts, I couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same way, whether he had been thinking the same things. His change from his usual scaled leathers and gleaming red siphons hadn’t helped either; a silk black shirt left unbuttoned just low enough so that I could see the tanned taught muscle of his chest, pressed black trousers held together with a silver buckled Illyrian leather belt. It was as though my body had began to melt away with the snow beneath my feet.

And then his eyes widened as he noticed, the gigantic wings which shuddered with nerves behind me, the flickering siphons mounted in perfect peaks above the apex of muscle.

He began to stride towards me.

And my heart began to pummel in my chest.

I hadn’t even noticed Morrigan and Rhysand slithering past and into the house silently.

“Commandress.” He addressed me formally, his polished black boots settling in the snow a few inches before mine. He reached down slowly as his lips brushed my cheek so featherlight that I thought that maybe I had imagined it.

“General.” I said back with a smile tugging at my lips.

His eyes scanned me from head to toe, “you look different? Did you change something about your hair?” His grin sent warmth through my body, despite the harsh winter air prickling at my skin.

“Yes, hair heavy enough to leave me bed ridden for three days.” I replied back with a playful snarl, yet my heart was bursting with gratitude.

He let the silence settle over us, just for a moment. “You look beautiful.” He said quietly, eyes flickering from my face to my wings, catching me off guard completely.

My mouth hung open for a second before I could come up with some witty remark, some snide comment to mask the fact that my insides felt as though they were doing leaps and jumps inside of me. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” My voice was barely a whisper above the wind. “About time you took those leathers off for a clean.” I managed to add before slowly turning to walk through the doors.

He let out a breathy laugh which vibrated straight through me. Our steps slowly fell in sync as we walked through the grand entrance of the house, following the lingering scent of Rhysand and Morrigan.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, “I came to visit during the treatment, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there once you woke - I was tied up in Illyria.”

Blush creeped to my cheeks at the memory, of him dangled on that bed beside me as he smoothed the hair from my face, leaning over on one elbow as he kissed my forehead. “I know you did, thank you.”

His cheeks also grew a deep crimson, a beautiful contrast to his deep Illyrian skin. “You remember?”

“I remember.” Silence washed over us and I fought with the fact that I should lay it all out before us.

I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. I couldn’t stand the thought of it being seen as a quick ticket into my position. I had proved myself, I knew that, proved myself by living on that land surrounded by sea and snow for countless years. Proved myself by fighting in that sickening war, even if it meant I was standing alone by the end of it.

But the desire still burned.

And my restraint was fraying.

•

Dinner was delicious. Slightly more formal than usual, yet still filled with the usual lighthearted laughter and easy flowing talk that the Night Courts inner circle often possessed. It was as though once they took their seat at the table, all of the outside chaos would vanish. It was just them, and their family.

Nerves loomed over me the entire meal, disguised with a smile and a trembling laugh. Cassian could tell, and decided he would make it worse by sitting beside me and brushing his knee against mine throughout the dinner. Although my decision had been made long before I spoke the words, it made my stomach churn with self doubt at the thought of swearing my life to their legion.

It wasn’t only for me, it was for the rest of the females who had suffered at the cost of men and their sick tainted minds. To rot away on an island, it would spark satisfaction in those twisted souls if they knew.

It was when we were in the sitting room with an opened bottle of wine on the coffee table before us that Rhysand had crossed his leg one over the other, and began to tell me about the priestesses and their positions in the library. He had even told me some of their stories, stories which almost made me weep. Mor, Cassian and Azriel were seated along a couch underlining one of the grand arched windows, participating in a much less heavy manor of conversation, wings shaking behind them as they laughed and complained that Rhysand was putting a damper on the night. It wasn’t a damper to me, it was a window of opportunity, one to make me say -

“- I’ll stay.” I breathed, as if I had been holding the words in with my breath. I watched as Feyre’s eyes widened at the side of her mate. “I will stay, I will help you lead your armies, as long as my females are cared for.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, before a smirk slowly stretched across his lips. My sudden outburst drew the attention of the others, Azriel standing from his seat, followed by Cassian.

“Well then,” Rhysand jutted his bead towards his mate, who was positively beaming beside him. “We will have you take your oaths the day after Solstice. But for now, Commandress, enjoy the holiday.”

•

Once the fuss of my decision had settled down, and everyone had finished bracing me in the warmest of welcoming hugs, it was only Cassian and I left in the sitting room.

We both sat on velvet armchairs beside one another, an audience to the High Lady and her mate as they both overlooked Velaris’ beauty on the red stone balcony. His wing was wrapped around her to shield her from the cold, and although I was unable to hear what they were saying, it seemed as if Feyre was absolutely infatuated. I watched from a distance as that was all I could do, the reality of such love ever finding me so farfetched.

Cassian and I were consumed by comfortable quiet, sipping from our glasses occasionally. The stunning night sky illuminated his face in such a way it made him even more beautiful, structured. Even the scars that braced his skin suited him.

“Thank you.” Was all I whispered to break that silence.

He didn’t respond for a moment, as if he was wrapped up in thoughts of his own. “For what?” He said.

I almost laughed. What shouldn’t I thank him for.

“For everything.” I said with sincerity, my heart practically bursting inside of my tight chest. “For the opportunities you have given my people and I, for the wings, just everything. I doubt I will ever be able to repay you for your kindness, but I am in hopes that my service will cover some of the debt.”

“You are in no debt to me.” He said firmly.

“I am, and I forever will be, Cassian.”

He didn’t argue further, instead continued to watch the Lord and High lady with heavy lidded eyes. He gestured a glass towards them, the amber liquid sloshing around with the movement.

“Do you ever think people like us could find a love like they have.” He asked, his voice lowered, hoarse.

I swallowed sharply and narrowed my eyes at the two.

People like us, who held so much unforgiving rage in their hearts that perhaps there was no room for love. People like us who believed with our own minds that we were not worthy of such a thing, and that the Mothers plan for us only consisted of war and bloodshed. Thick skinned and sharp witted to withstand the judgement of others and ward off any comfort.

“Perhaps if you asked me three weeks ago, I may have said no.” My vision grew unfocused on the High Lord and Lady, their figures merging into a fuzz.

My statement peaked his interest.

“What changed your mind?”

I thought about answering him truthfully, thought of confessing all of my muddled feelings. Yet I just shrugged.

“I don’t know, my eyes have just opened to the possibility.”

He didn’t respond, and as I turned to glance at him I noticed he was already looking, an unreadable expression on his face. His knuckle which was propping his chin up unfolded and rubbed along his stubble; I had to look away as heat shot through the centre of my body.

I didn’t know whether to address it, didn’t know whether or not I should acknowledge the fact that I felt this way or just allow it to eat me alive.

His boots shuffled against the ground as he stood, my eyes glued to the coffee table despite his movement. Then he walked to me, until his body shielded my vision, one calloused scarred hand hooking beneath my chin and tilting my face upwards. My wings shuddered behind me at the contact, wide eyes meeting his as my hands gripped the embellished arms of the chair.

“You are in no debt to me.” Was all he said, before leaning down and pressing his warm lips to my cheek. I didn’t even bother to mask the way my breath hitched as he lingered there for a moment, his scandal wood and smokey scent consuming me whole like some sort of spell.

And then he walked away.

And that was the last time I saw him that night.

•

We didn’t celebrate Solstice back at my camp.

It didn’t seem necessary.

But once I experienced the traditions and the joys in which the holiday brung, I realised how much I had been depriving myself and my people of. My heart warmed at the thought of my females all surrounded by warmth, presents, delicious foods. The kids who would receive the more prestige cuts of meat on their birth dates would now receive presents wrapped in ribbon and love.

We sat at one of the cozy stone tables situated on the landings, the starlit sky watching over us as presents were exchanged with beaming smiles and grateful thanks. The food was ready in the kitchen, the smell wafting throughout the house and tickling our noses with temptation.

Although I had requested not to be a part of the gift exchange, I still experienced the second hand joy of each person who unwrapped their presents with wide grins across their faces. Amren received the most beautiful of jewels, Mor received bundles and bundles of clothes, Feyre received some more sentimental gifts. Yet although my eyes could not leave them, my mind was stuck on one particular gift still resting against the red stone floor, the wrapping paper as if it had been crumpled and unraveled again.

Cassian’s chair screeched from beside me as he pushed away from the table, the group still heavily engrossed in laughter and conversation as he did so. He slowly swanned to the gift lying in solitude, sweeping down and grabbing it with one hand before bringing it back over to his seat. My eyes dragged slowly as I followed him around the room, right until he had landed back next to me.

He sat back down on his seat, shuffling it forward a few times before turning to me. “This one’s for you.”

My brow immediately furrowed, my eyes narrowing at the small beige tag which hung from silky red ribbon. It indeed said my name.

Slowly I took it from him, one finger pinching at the end of the ribbon as I pulled it and watched it unravel into my lap. It was soft yet heavy, squishy yet firm. I began to peel away at the crumbled paper, settling the gift in my lap. As the ripping revealed more and more, black scales began to become uncovered, leather lined with fox fur adorned with emerald green siphons. A beaming smile spreading across my face, my eyes shooting to Cassian’s who watched me in anticipation.

“You like them?” He eventually asked.

My smile still hadn’t faltered, my knuckles gripping the shoulders of the fighting leathers as I held them out in front of me. They weren’t quite the same as his and Azriel’s, the insides lined with a mix of satin and fur, as well as fur spilling from the collar and sleeves. One siphon had been adorned to the chest, two others to the shoulder.

“I asked for the fur to be added so they could be similar to your usual leathers, but if you would rather them without I could-“

“I love them, Cassian.” I cut him off, eyes flickering towards him for a brief moment before I found myself staring back at the leathers in awe. So carefully crafted, not a stitch out of place and I still hadn’t looked at the trousers which lay folded against my lap. “They are beautiful, thank you.” I said, my voice wavering with sincerity as I leant over and pressed my lips to his cheek. Warmth had already spread throughout his face despite the plummeting temperature, and I couldn’t help but notice that his breath hitched slightly at the heartfelt gesture.

��Only the best for the Commandress of the Night Court.” He smirked as I pulled away, smoothly masking his slight slip up in breath as heat began to travel up my neck too.

•

“Azriel would you be able to grab me that bottle of wine, the one with the wax top, please?” My head jutted towards the alcohol cabinet behind him, in which he immediately stood from his chair and swung around to grab.

Once he had retrieved the heavy glass bottle, a scarred hand gripped its neck as he passed it towards me across the table. I was about to take it and bid him thanks, when Cassian’s thick fingers shot out to snatch it away mid air. My mouth jutted open in protest, yet I noticed that he had only done so he could read the label stuck to its centre. I simply continued my meal.

“I believe we have become bad influences, you didn’t drink nearly as much when you first arrived here.” He stated, eyes lifting from the label to meet mine, which I rolled in return.

I quickly chewed my mouthful of food, swallowing it dryly. “Excuse me for being nervous about moving into a house with complete strangers, I’m sure my body didn’t need alcohol to add to that.” I settled my fork down beside my plate, reaching out to grab the bottle which hung in mid air. He snatched it away the moment my fingers grew near. “Consider it a compliment, I must have warmed to you.” My head tilted to the side as I leant forwards and reached for it again.

Azriel raised his eyebrows. “Warmed to him or want to numb the pain of being around him?” He mumbled, a sly smirk etching across his lips as he side eyed his brother whose mouth fell open.

“More than just a pretty face, aren’t you Shadow Singer?” I smirked in return.

“Well you’re definitely not getting the wine now that you two have decided to join forces against me.” He tucked the bottle beneath his arm, his bicep bulging against the glass bottle. I couldn’t tell which one I wanted more in my mouth.

“Fine then.” I scowled, my chair screeching along the tiles as I pulled away from my seat.

“Stop being a nuisance Cassian.” Feyre scolded him, which he simply ignored as he rose from his chair.

He had absolutely no reason to stop me from filling another glass, absolutely no reason other than being a terror. He was in one of his playful moods, clearly; one that I had no intention of matching, especially when my throat was crying out for some aged wine.

I stomped around the table, Cassian’s broad stature blocking my access to the wine cabinet entirely. “No, I brought her here and now she wants to team up with Az, I’m not having it.” Amren rolled her eyes at him as she bitterly chewed on her food and I had to bite down on a laugh.

“Cassian, please pass me a bottle.” He ignored me.

Azriel turned in his chair, mischief written across his face as he raised his eyebrows at the both of us. “How are you going to refuse an order from your second?” He asked, clearly satisfied at his slight stir before he turned to dig back into his plate of food.

“She’s not my second yet.” Cassian grumbled, his eyes narrowing down at me as I stood before him with my arms crossed. Rhysand choked out a laugh from further down the table.

“Is that right? I won’t be tomorrow either if you don’t pass me the wine.” I hissed.

His mouth opened to speak yet immediately closed straight after; perhaps he believed I was speaking the truth.

“Fine.” He mumbled and triumph sparked within me.

He peeled the bottle from beneath his arm and I offered a mocking smile as he outstretched it towards me.

I raised my hand to snatch it away before he changed his mind, and my fingers grazed his.

Yet I didn’t grasp the wine.

My vision went black and that bony finger began to tap beneath the skin of my chest once more, this time frantically, matching the rhythm of my heart. A sea of ink washed over my vision with a ribbon of glowing gold snapping taught between the shadows in which we stood. Energy shot through me as if I had been possessed by a spirit, the wine bottle colliding with the ground and shattering into smithereens as I heaved for breath. My body shot into complete shock, my vision still dimmed with only that glowing stream connecting the two of us, chest to chest, heart to heart.

I stumbled a few steps back, blinking rapidly to adjust my sight on Cassian, whose hand gripped his chest as if he was about to rip his heart from his flesh. His face was contorted in both pleasure and pain, as was my own. The entire room fell silent around us.

He was my mate.

My vision had cleared, shadows of black drifting away behind me as I stared at him in complete and utter shock. My shoulders heaved up and down as I tried to swallow my breaths and he slowly stepped towards me. Heat soared through my entire body as if it had been ignited in fire, the mix of emotions swirling above my head before they came tunnelling down on me.

I took one look in his hazel eyes and they were soft, understanding, glazed over with what seemed to be relief. Almost as if -

“- You knew.” The words fell from my lips in disbelief, his steps towards me quickening as mine fell backwards, further and further away from him. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me.” My voice began to raise and anger defeated the lust which was crawling over my body at the sight of him. He didn’t immediately jump to protest, which confirmed my rather bold statement; Rhysand even rose from his chair.

It was supposed to be an emotional time, yet not like this. My anger had bubbled over every glittery thought that came with that glowing gold tie to him, the one that begged my body closer to his as I stepped away. Had I been this incredible warrior who worked hard to prove the strength of my women, who lead an army of females into a sea of men swarming Hybern’s bloody battle field; or had I simply just been his mate. Had all this been a lure into his trap.

“You sly, wicked being.” I said lowly, although my heart dropped as his face fell as if it had been released my invisible hands holding strings. I felt sick to my stomach.

He etched closer again, stepping over the glass with an outstretched hand, reaching to comfort. “We can talk about this.” He stated slowly, cautiously.

I shook my head immediately, swallowing my shallow breath as tears began to brim in my eyes. “No we cannot. Matter of fact, I do not wish to speak to you at all.” My glazed pupils trailed over the table of star stuck fae, who hadn’t said a word since the bond snapped in place. Mor even remained holding her fork full of food mid air, mouth stuck in a small, unmoving circle. My lips pressed into a small forced smile as I nodded to the group. “Please, enjoy the rest of your holiday. I shall see you all tomorrow.” The words faltered as I spoke, and I began to step towards the doors.

“Wait!-“ Cassian bellowed from behind me, yet I didn’t do as much as look back as my hand reached out for the door handle.

•

Perhaps it was the heightened hormones and emotions of the mating bond snapping into place that made my skin itch and burn from the inside out; or perhaps it was the sheer anger of being fooled into a position rather than earning it. All of my hard work, a trap glamoured by flattery to get me to enter this court, this army, this man. The thought of him had me ripping at clumps of my hair.

My mind was like a ball thrown back and forth on a court; maybe it was never their intention to hurt me, but what had stopped them? Was I too much of an unpredictable brute that they couldn’t have me know until I had pledged an allegiance. Was I the problem? Or was it Cassian. Was I some pillar of strength and a potential role model to his female Illyrians, or was I just his pretty mate?

I scoffed at the thought, submerging my body further into the lukewarm bath water which was muddled with tears and sandalwood soap. A pretty mate, that’s what he needed. A little doll who could be placed on a pedestal, one that wore dresses without itching away at the fabric and had never handled a dagger in her life; one who’s skin didn’t tell a battlefield story. I thought at the ways I would get back at him, perhaps surprise him at breakfast with a fist to his gut or wake him with his own dagger to his throat. Maybe I was punishment enough.

It made sense now that it had all fallen into place, the innuendos, the uncontrollable thoughts I had been experiencing, the way my body was drawn to him. No matter how many violent acts of vengeance I imagined, they soon turned into something more; a dagger to his throat which soon slid to his leathers, cutting through the material until the golden brown skin covering his muscles peeked through. My thighs clamped together at the thought, water sloshing over the sides of the tub at the immediate reaction.

He had been pacing outside the door for twenty minutes. He had remained down stairs for an hour or so after I stormed off, most likely to consult the rest of his circle on what his next strategy may be. Cunning, that’s what he was. I wondered whether or not he had a brain of his own behind that handsome face, or whether it was his friends who made his decisions as well as keep his secrets for him; he paid no heed to the pain his own actions may cause to others.

And neither did I apparently, considering I had decided I will be leaving by tomorrow afternoon.

The High Lord had arranged for my people to be at my ceremony, so their proud faces could watch me as I pledged my life away to set them up for theirs. My gut twisted in unspeakable ways as I thought about the looks of disappointment on their faces as I told them we would be leaving this beautiful land they had grown to love through the High Lords mind. Selfishly, I told myself I didn’t care. I would not be ranked as his second in command simply because of the Mothers choice, because I was his mate.

My thoughts continued to spiral as I dried off and dressed in my night gown, eyes dragging along my wings as I did so. Despite his ill made decision to hide the bond from me, he had given me something I had only dreamed of. My wings, my lifeline and my purpose for all of this. He had said it was so I could teach the young to fly, yet some twisted part of me believed it would be so he could have the satisfaction of clipping them himself, having me sit beside him as he commanded his armies with so little as a breath from me.

It was when my feet padded through the cool tiled bathroom and into the bedroom when he knocked. Three times, sharp and pointed. I just ignored them.

Three times again, I could see his face in my mind as his knuckle grazed the polished wood, cold and stern yet worried. My body itched to open the door. I just ignored it.

“Open the door before I knock it down.” He threatened from the other side and I raised my eyebrows to myself, perching on my bed before swinging my legs into the crumpled white sheets. I leant over to the nightstand where my holder laid limp across the wood, unsheathing the blade from its leather case and resting it in my lap.

I attempted to seem unbothered by his presence, unfazed by the pulsing ache beneath my skin. Perhaps it was to convince myself that I could resist him, perhaps it was so once he did manage to burst down that door, he would know that I was not one bit interested in whatever he had to say. He could talk to me through the walls for all I cared, my mind was made up.

The handle giggled twice before he groaned, the sound sending shockwaves to my core as I began to clean beneath my fingernails with the tip of the blade. My toes were curled beneath the sheets in anticipation, anger once again rising through the centre of my body as I gritted my teeth to myself.

Open the door.

His voice echoed around my mind as if he was stood right beside me, my body becoming frozen in complete shock at the internal sound. Magic crackled through me, my eyes instinctively fluttering closed as he lead me towards him. To my own surprise, I allowed it; curiosity taking over as I stepped into a world of dark mental mist. Whispers of black smoke untraveled to reveal a wall of onyx polished marble, vines of red roses with steel thorns climbing up the surface. And in the middle was a single door, wide open for me to enter.

My breathing grew erratic as I struggled to hold my composure through the bond. It took every bone in my body not to grab those roses of steel with my bare hands and tear them down.

Come anywhere near this room again and I will not hesitate to kill you, Commander.

I could feel the warmth of his smirk as I spat through the bond, tracing my body like a sheet of silk.

Don’t threaten me with a good time, Commandress.

I let out a snarl as a growing red thread weaved its way through the keyhole, unlocking the door with ease. It slowly pushed open, yet the smug look on Cassian’s face soon vanished the moment my siphons flung across the room and launched the contents of my vanity at him. Hair brushes and mirrors fell to the floor as he shielded them with a flick of his wrist, yet I didn’t let up, another glowing green line of power flying towards a vase that sat on top of a tall chest of drawers. It bounced off of his shield and shattered to the floor.

I stood up from the bed, knees wobbling from the sheer amount of force that the bond was throwing at me, my dagger still clutched tightly between my fingers.

“What do you want?” I seethed through gritted teeth at I stepped around the bed.

He held his hands out before him, as if he was surrendering to me. “I just want to talk to you.”

“I have nothing to say to you.” I grimaced.

“You need to understand that it was never my intention to hurt you-“

“No, it was your intention to fool me into the bond.” I sneered, my eyes dragging from his head to his toes. He looked ready to pounce on me at any moment, as did I.

“Why is it such a bad thing?” He asked.

My eye twitched as silence washed over us, my heaving breaths filling the air between us. He didn’t speak a word, just watched me, eyes trailing from my face to my chest and back up to my face again.

“Because I believed that I had worked for that offer-“ my voice came out a broken cry, yet it wasn’t tears in my eyes, just raw, burning anger. “I believed that you sought me out for the warrior that I am, for the good I have done.” My voice began to raise to almost a scream, a plead to get my point across. “Yet I know that I am only here because of your own desires.” I stepped closer to him once more, a trembling finger pointing towards him.

He kept his cool entirely, stepping further into the room as he slid the door closed behind him. I audibly gulped, not from the terror which often followed the Lord of Bloodshed, but because of my own desires and the close proximity we were now in.

“If you truly believe that then we can make a trip downstairs and let Rhysand show you my mind.” He said with a deadly calm tone, his voice almost hushed in comparison to my screams. “From the moment I saw you, until this moment now, let him show you all of it. How I came off that battlefield and pondered your existence for months, how I spoke of you and how you fought once we were ready to. You didn’t leave my mind for a moment-“

“-Yes, because you knew I was your mate.” I spat.

“No, because I hoped for it.” He said, a slight plead in his voice as his hands flexed in front of him. “I wished and I prayed that my gut feeling was true, no bonds had snapped and no words exchanged, I begged the Mother every night that our paths would cross once again, so I could seek out your guidance-“

“Lies.” Was all I could sneer over the sound of pounding blood rushing to my ears.

He puffed out a breath before reaching for me, grabbing my hand before I could push him away. I didn’t want to, deep down I knew that I wanted to cave. He rested his fingers over mine as he placed my palm across the plane of muscle beneath his shirt; just above his heart, as he had done that night we returned to The House together.

“Feel my heart as I speak.” He begged as I tugged desperately to release my hand beneath his. “Feel my heart when I tell you I did not bring you here as my mate, but as the General Commandress of our court. That I not only see you for your beauty but your power, as an equal to myself.”

It was almost as my heart stopped, whilst his remained a steady pace beneath my skin, unfaltering despite the tension of the situation. Part of me still didn’t believe him, and he could tell by the look in my eyes as he slowly released my hand and I let it fall limp at my side.

“I am leaving tomorrow.” Was all I said.

I watched as his shoulders tensed, his breathing slowing yet drawing deeper and deeper.

“You are not.” He said with certainty.

I scoffed and pointed the tip of my dagger towards him as I spoke. “You do not command me, General.” My voice dripped with malice.

A twinkle in his eye. “No I do not, but I know you will not leave.”

“How so?”

He stepped towards me again, so impossibly close that I could feel the bond simmering between our bodies, crackling and fizzling like an open fire. His scent surrounded me, sweeter than usual, now laced with almond and honey.

“Because a female of your strength could crack my skull with their bare hands, and yet I still stand here untouched, the dagger clean. If you wanted to leave, you would have by now.” His words caressed the skin of my cheek like a warm brush of air, a shiver shooting down my spine.

My eyes flickered across his face before the final thread of restraint snapped for the both of us.

His lips soared to mine, hot heated and heavy as his hands grabbed my hips; it was like he knew I would take off from the abrupt clash of our mouths. My wings fell limp behind me as his fingers dug into my flesh, my mind such a blur that I was frozen in shock for a moment, until my lips gradually began to move against his with equal intensity. He took it as confirmation, that I too, couldn’t resist him.

Our footsteps stumbled over one another as he pushed me throughout the bedroom, our tongues working against one another, teeth clashing, desire burning. My back eventually collided with the wall, Cassian’s hands still gripping me as if I was about to run, his knee impacting with the stone behind me as he pushed it between my legs. I gripped at his shoulders, clenching his shirt and his skin as if I was about to tear him apart.

Heat pulsed through my body the longer our tongues rolled against one another, my heart pounding in my chest as he pushed me further into the wall. I allowed it, allowed him to consume all of me until he eventually trailed his lips to my jaw and down my neck. Saliva coated my lips, dripping down my chin as I gasped for breath, gripping him so hard I was afraid my fingers may break.

“Cassian-“ I gasped as he began to suck along the skin, his chest pushing further into mine.

“Yes sweetheart.” He purred breathlessly beneath my ear, the ache between my legs growing unbearable.

My eyes squeezed shut as a sigh left my lips, his knee pushing higher between my thighs to where I needed him the most. “We are not finished with this.” I said breathlessly, biting back on my moans as he feasted on my neck as if he was starved.

“Punish me on the bed if you like.” He mumbled into my skin, peeling my body off of the wall and spinning me so my back was to the bed.

I raised an eyebrow at his statement, forcefully turning him mid stride so that it was the backs of his knees which folded against the mattress. Hauling my night gown over one of my legs, I bunched it up at my hips as I crawled on top of him and into a straddle, his hands now finding purchase at my glutes; tugging and squeezing at the fatty flesh. My head tilted back as I moaned, exposing my chest, my extended neck to him, which he gladly ran his wet lips over once more.

“So beautiful.” His words were a faint whisper against my skin, as if they were only to himself. I ran a hand through his tousled hair, tugging slightly at the root so his head would would tilt back and my lips could meet mine again.

The grip of his hands, the desperation in our lips; I found my body moving in sync against his as our tongues fought, my core grinding down on his clothed erection for any sort of friction. I was growing desperate, not only myself but the bond too. His lips left mine and I met his hazel eyes, heavy lidded and shadowed with lust. His usual deep tanned skin now had a pink flush to it, his lips swollen and wet from a mix of our saliva. He was the picture of something perfect.

“We do not need to go any further,” he said hoarsely whilst he pulled back, his voice as rough as gravel. His hands loosened on my ass as I slumped into him slightly, still completely dazed. “I can leave right now and we can forget this ever happened, but if we start something I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop it.” His words hardly made it over the sound of hot blood rushing to my ears.

I pressed my chest to his as a pathetic pry for any contact, my razor sharp nipples dragging along his clothed skin. He marked my movements, one large hand raising to cup my heavy aching breast through my nightgown as he waited for my response, running a thumb over the tender pebble. I hissed with pure bliss.

“I want Rhys to show me your mind first thing in the morning, I want to be sure you are telling me the truth before a swear allegiance; this is not just about me, but my own people, Cassian, so I hope to the Gods you haven’t deceived me.” My words left my lips frantically, desperately and breathlessly. “And I will make my decision on what to do with the bond once - if - I am sworn in-“ I gasped as his lips attacked my neck once more, hands fisting clumps of his dark brown hair before he shifted me onto the bed.

My back fell softly on the mattress, Cassian’s siphons flaring as their threads began unbuttoning his shirt. His face was one of thought, yet he shook it quickly as leant over me, brushing his lips to mine before speaking.

“We will talk more about it in the morning.” He dismissed, eyes trailing down my nightgown before his fingers grazed its hem, shifting it up my thigh ever so slightly. “But for now let me enjoy you-” His hazel irises met mine, clouded by nothing but lust. “-Just whilst you’re in a good mood, before you start throwing things at me again.” He smirked as my hands met the mountains of muscle gracing his stomach.

“Yes in the morning.” I breathed and my eyes fluttered closed. He began to raise my nightgown higher, the cold air creeping up my legs as my fingers tugged to peel his shirt away from his arms. He stopped for a moment to shrug it off, and I sat up to finish the job he started, lifting my nightgown over my head until I was completely exposed before him.

My back hit the bed as his eyes drank in my appearance, the air from the duck feather pillows beneath my wings puffing out from my weight. His wings flared out slightly, shamelessly dragging his gaze over my naked body as if it was the last time he would see it. My eyes trailed shamelessly too, lapping up every defined crevice of muscle, the tattoos swirling across his chest and arm, the taught strain of his pants where his erection pressed against the fabric. I reached forwards and began to unbutton them before his fingers clasped around my wrist.

“Let me take care of you first.” Was all he said, anticipation creeping up on me as he slowly began to shift further to the edge of the bed, until his head was level with my knees. His fingers pressed into my hips, thumbs digging into the subtle flesh of my backside as he gently nudged my legs open, groaning at the sight of my sex. I almost came undone right there.

“Body of a goddess-,” he said between kisses on the scarred skin of my inner thigh, alternating between the two, “strength of a warrior.” He slowly flattened his tongue against my wet slit, my head thrown back and my back arching off of the bed immediately.

He worked his tongue against my clit as if he had done it a thousand times before, like he knew where to press, suck, lick. The amount of times I had touched myself to the thought of him, imagined him doing the most unspeakable things to me, they didn’t amount to this. The press of his grappling fingers to my skin, the sound of him drinking my wetness mixed with my whines and moans, the heat radiating from his own skin; it had me coming undone within moments. He held me down as he ate me through my orgasm, giving me little to no time to recover as he worked me to another.

Two fingers prodded at my pulsing entrance, slowly sliding their way through the slick spongey flesh.

“Cassian-“ I gasped, screwing my eyes closed as my hand reached to grab his free wrist. My hips instinctively began to move with the swipe of his tongue and the pump of his fingers, hums of approval rippling from his lips and through my body as if we were connected as one. I was shocked at how quickly I had recovered from my first orgasm, eager for the next as I pressed my sex to his face with more and more force.

The ache had returned, coiling and swirling in the base of my stomach as his fingers pumped and curled inside of me. Something about being in this much anticipated moment, with him, made me forget about the company on the other floors; I paid no heed to the thought of them as another orgasm rippled through me and this time my body had shook with the overwhelming pleasure of it. My thighs clamped around his head as I screamed, the feeling unworldly as I felt the bond between us grow taught. My chest heaved as he slowly lifted his head from between my trembling legs; my vision was as if it had become white spotted, yet I still enjoyed every second of watching his swollen lips wrap around his own fingers before groaning at the taste. He looked me dead in the eye the entire time, towering over me until he lowered back down to the level of my lips.

I was becoming greedy, two orgasms ripped from me yet needing more and more. My heels wrapped around his hips as I pulled him further towards me, fingers nimbly fumbling with the button of his trousers.

“Tell me,” he began to say in a hushed tone, running his nose along the strained muscle of my neck. “How many times have you touched yourself in this bed to the thought of me?” He asked, and my fingers immediately fell from the lace of his trousers. He sat up straight to shove them off his body, head tilted in curiosity as I struggled to breathe, let alone find the words to answer.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice croaked, unable to shake the goosebumps which coated every inch of my naked skin. He didn’t say anything, just continued to undress until he was entirely nude before me, his long thick erection resting against his lower abdomen. He didn’t try to hide it, rather flaunted it, the gleaming flush tip which swayed with his movement, already leaking with his seed and his heavy balls which rested beneath it. My throat went dry at the sight.

He eventually crawled back on top of me, one arm propping him up as the other trailed over my body with a feather light touch, stopping as he grasped my nipple between two fingers. The ache in my breasts morphed into a pleasurable pain as he pinched harder, and for a moment I believed he had forgotten his own question.

“I can smell each time you orgasmed in this bed. You must have been rather busy whilst I was away in the mountains.” He said lowly before wrapping his warm lips around my pebbled nipple, my eyes screwing shut as he sucked on the sensitive peak harder and harder. He released the throbbing skin, “So tell me, what did you think about?” He moved to the next one.

I refused to answer, my eyes still screwed shut in pure bliss, unable to shake the unbearable ache soaring from my cunt and through my body. My nails dug into his shoulders, hips thrusting upwards as I tried desperately to find some sort of relief.

Tell me sweetheart, tell me what you thought about.

His sultry voice slithered through my mind, warmth coating the insides of my skin from his internal presence.

“I thought about this, about you.” My voice was a shaky whisper, I had turned into putty beneath him.

He hummed in approval, lips leaving my breasts and trailing up my neck, towards my jaw. The hand supporting his body remained planted into the mattress, the opposite one coming down between us as he began to stroke himself. I whined pathetically at the sight.

“What was I doing? Did I fuck you hard or soft? How many times did I make you cum?” My cunt clenched around nothing, whines and moans leaving my lips even as I laid there untouched. He hissed through his teeth, eyebrows furrowed as he continued to stroke himself to the sight of me.

“I think you have tortured me enough today, General.” I seethed, my heel looping around to his arse and pushing him further towards me, my patience growing unbearably thin. He let out a deep rumble, a laugh or a groan, I couldn’t quite tell.

“Very well.” He smirked, lining his length up with my pulsing entrance, the anticipation of him coating my walls burning away at my skin with raw unrelenting desire.

He pushed his wide tip into me, a strained moan leaving both of our lips as he slowly inched further into my hole. The stretch was so painfully delicious, my touch starved body glittering at the feeling of someone being inside of me. He then began to move, his muscled arms caging me beneath him as I withered under his slow thrusts. My heavy eyelids eventually fluttered open, nose twitching as I noticed a purple haze beginning to slither beneath the gap between the bedroom door and floor.

My hand patted his shoulder, my breath hitching slightly as I furrowed my eyebrows at the sight. “Wait - what is that?” I asked, leaning on my elbows slightly as he halted and looked towards the door.

“Rhys shielded the room, he must have heard us.” Blush creeped up my neck, embarrassment washing over me knowing that the High Lord and Lady must have heard me in such a state; although Cassian seemed quite pleased with himself.

He thrust into me again, knocking my thoughts out of me as my head tilted back in pure ecstasy. The tip of his penis hit a wall in me every time, every vein and pulse in the muscle prominent to me as he slid through my walls over and over again. The sight of him was something godly, sweat glistened caramel skin, rippling muscles, hair falling in his face. None of my thoughts and wildest fantasies of him amounted to this.

I was thankful for the shield, not only because of the noises leaving my lips but because of his too. He was near growling as he thrusted into me with a relentless unfaltering pace, skin slapping, the bed pounding into the wall almost as much as he was pounding into me.

He positioned himself upright, his knees planted firmly in the mattress as he gave me a sloppy, open mouthed kiss. I moaned into him, nails dragging along his pecs as I tried to get a grip on anything to steady the feeling of pleasure bursting throughout me. Once he pulled away, he gripped the headboard with one hand, the other grabbing one of my left breast as he kneaded it in his palm, entering me at an new angle that heightened the feeling of everything.

He hummed as he watched me arch my back from the bed, “you like that, don’t you?” He asked, his hand moving from my breast to my clit which was aching to be touched. I answered him with a near scream as he began to rub the nerves with his thumb in tight firm circles, his teeth grit as he watched my face contort with overwhelming pleasure. He let out a breathy chuckle, “so responsive, aren’t you?” He taunted, and I couldn’t tell whether he meant the physical reaction of my body, or the fact I simply couldn’t find the words to respond to him.

“Please-“ I didn’t know what I was pleading for, so close to my third orgasm that I had started to see stars. It may have been a plead to stop, a plead to keep going; the rest of my body, including my mind going fuzzy as the tight coil inside of me grew.

But just as I was reaching my breaking point, he pulled out in a swift fluid movement, hands bracing my hips before I could yell in protest and flipping me onto my stomach. I immediately raised my arse in the air, arms scooping underneath the cool side of the pillow as I waited for him to enter me again. He chuckled lowly at my eagerness from behind, slapping his penis against my dripping wet sex before sliding in again.

He kissed down my spine as he began to thrust once more, the skin on skin contact of his chest against the root of my wings sending sparks throughout my entire body. I couldn’t fathom how something could bring me so much pleasure, how I no longer cared how loud I was, how desperate I was acting. Two large calloused hands gripped at the skin of my glutes, spreading them open before releasing them, followed by a sharp slap on one side. My head fell into the pillow, the white cotton soon becoming soaked in saliva as I was simply so fucked out that I couldn’t even keep my mouth closed.

His hand left my burning cheek, grabbing a fistful of my hair as he pulled me upright and flush against him. He briefly pinched at my nipple, before his hand trailed lower, settling on my lower abdomen where I could feel his bulge about to burst through my skin. His palm rested there for a moment before he grabbed my own, placing it in the same spot so I could feel him sinking in and out of me.

“Do you feel that?” He asked me, his voice deepening with nothing but lust and longing. He pressed down harder on my stomach, where the bulge continued to grow larger and smaller, my head rolled back onto his shoulder as I moaned. “This is where I belong now,” he nipped at my neck, my earlobe. “My beautiful, beautiful mate. How many men can say they’ve had the Commandress of the Night Court come undone for them?” His rhetorical question rung around my mind, and although I had imagined my answer, I didn’t dare speak it aloud. “Do you know what it’s doing to me? Knowing your strength, your power, and knowing that I will be the only male able to make you loose yourself like this.” His words came out through gritted teeth, as if he was holding himself back.

I could have came once more from the penetration alone, but as he began to circle my clit again the tie in which was holding me together began to unravel. A white hot light tore through me to the point that the orgasm was almost on the brink of painful, my entire body shaking as he fucked me through it. And as my muscles were almost limp with fatigue, one final, forceful thrust from Cassian had him coming undone, the shadow of his wings casting darkness across the bedroom as they flared out behind him. He roared as if he had been wounded, his warm thick seed spurting into me, claiming me.

We stayed there for a moment, my mind a complete haze as our chests heaved in sync. My wings had gone completely limp, trailing along the bed on both sides of us as if they had been turned to jelly. Sweat coated my entire body, from my forehead to my breasts to my thighs; stuck to Cassian’s front like glue. Our scents had merged into one, and it took every grain of restraint in my body not to walk down stairs exactly as I was and offer him a plate of food. Whether his earlier actions had ill intent or not, I could get used to sex like this for the rest of my life.

He placed a kiss below my ear, one hand sprawled across my stomach as he held me in place. I didn’t fight it, soaking up the warmth and the scent of his skin.

“You did so well, so good for me my mate.” His words were breathless as he ran his hand through my tangled hair, bringing it over my shoulder.

My eyes were still closed, my mind still a blur, his softening cock still inside of me. “I am not your mate yet.” I managed to say between heaving breaths.

He planted another kiss to my neck, nose dragging along the damp skin before he exhaled. “No but you will be. Come tomorrow you will see my intentions were not malicious, and after tonight, I’m sure you won’t be able to resist the bond. I know I won’t.” I felt him smirk against my skin and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at his arrogance.

“We will see.” Was all I said in return, my colder demeanour washing over me once more, now that my thoughts had travelled back to the reason why he was in my room in the first place.

After a few more seconds, he shifted away from me; his cum oozing out of my hole as his penis pulled out. He immediately stood from the bed, and I felt a slight pang of pain in my chest at the thought of him leaving so soon, my wide eyes raking over his naked body like it was the last time I may see it.

“I’m going to run you a bath.” He said as an ever so slight wave of relief washed over me. His hand reached for my face from where he stood at the side of the bed, fingers nestling in the hair behind my ear before pulling me closer towards him. I kept my eyes lowered as he pressed a kiss to my forehead; such an innocent gesture to combat what we had just partaken in.

“My mate.” He said once more.

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