#in a body he likely will only be fully accustomed to or comfortable in after a very long time or probably never. IF WE APPLY LOGIC OFC

[gentlefangz]

sometimes i get the horrible urge to say it's ironic im a dogthing who liked dogman before it realized it was a dogthing because its like dogman himself made me a dogthing and it takes all my courage to NOT say it

[reidmotif]

Relax, I've Got You

Summary: Reader isn't the best at handling stress, and her roommate Spencer, notices. Luckily, he has quite a few salacious ideas on how he could make her feel better.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: friends-with-benefits situation, oral (f!recieving), fingering (f!recieving), mentions of anxiety/symptoms of anxiety.

Word Count: 2.7 k

Masterlist

You were never good at handling stress. 

You were well aware of this facet of your psyche– the way tensity would often wind around your limbs, snaking into the very depths of your bones until you were entirely drained and devoid of peace, a shell of the person you were accustomed to being. 

You had dealt with this complication on your own for the most part. You’d come home after a long day, and attempt to find yourself again through chamomile tea, lavender mists, and a warm blanket. 

Of course, there were days where even these measures could not suffice in curing your weariness. 

That’s where Spencer Reid came in. 

He’d only been your roommate at first. With the economy going as it was, it was simply more practical to find one, rather than renting alone. He’d responded to an ad you’d put up, and you accepted. The process was easy, honestly. You had no qualms about sharing your living space with another person, and even found the arrangement enjoyable at times. Spencer was well-mannered, never missed rent, and wasn’t even at home most of the time. When he was, he was quiet. Sweet. 

Through time, you found yourself becoming friends with the man. The conversation was light and easy, and in a rare turn of events, you started to open up to him. Even more surprisingly, he returned the favor, adding to the understanding that was fast growing between the two of you. It seemed only natural, since both of you were made naturally vulnerable by the circumstances of your situation. You’d come to your apartment, drop the mask of the day, and see that Spencer was already there, becoming an extension of the solace you found at home. Soon enough, the comfort of your couch was simply synonymous to him as well. 

It didn’t take long for Spencer to notice the anxieties that would plague you when a deadline came about, or when you simply fixated on an issue for too long. The way your bedroom light wouldn’t shut until 4 AM, or how you’d pace in the kitchen, so wired that your body denied you the rest you so desperately needed. He noticed the dark circles, the occasional irritability (followed by an apology, of course), the headaches, everything. Which is why he thought nothing of it to suggest some remedies for your troubles over breakfast one day. 

“Caffeine can actually increase stress, if you weren’t aware.” He says, eyeing your second cup of coffee that morning. “There’s actually a large amount of data that indicates you should limit caffeine intake, especially if you’re already anxious.” 

You narrow your eyes, furrowing your brows slightly. “Says who?” You retort, not quite ready to give up your chosen beverage. 

“The NIH, Penn State, the AMA-” 

“Okay, okay. Sorry. I got it.” You interrupt, knowing you’d started a losing battle the moment you’d questioned him.  “I’ll try to cut down on it.” 

He grins, satisfied with how the interaction had played out. You, on the other hand, started to drift farther away from your current setting. You swallow, putting down your coffee cup before rubbing your eyes, a soft sigh escaping you. 

“Something wrong?” Spencer asks, cautiously, his voice soft. 

You tsk, shaking your head and shrugging a bit at your own dilemma. “It's just.. I’m already so tired. I’m exhausted and the day’s barely begun.” You pause, unable to articulate just how fatigued you were.  “It’s like I can already feel the mid-afternoon headache I’m going to get later, and it hasn’t even started yet.” You hate the way you sound, longing for the day you could fully relax for even a fraction of a second. 

“You’d probably be a lot less tired if you slept a little more.” Spencer suggests, and you shoot him a death glare. 

“Don’t you think I know that?” You snap. “I’m trying. It’s not that easy. It’s just-” You groan, stopping yourself as the quick realization dawns on you that you’ve misdirected your frustrations. There’s a wave of shame rising up almost immediately, heating your cheeks up in regret. 

“I’m sorry, Spencer. Sorry. That’s unfair of me. I know you’re just looking out for me.” You murmur, taking a deep breath to calm your senses. 

“Hey, don’t worry.” He says, his voice low and compassionate. “I get it. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now.” 

You nod, closing your eyes as you continue to breathe. He continues to speak, his voice remaining warmhearted. 

“There are actually quite a few ways to alleviate stress. Some experts recommend meditation, exercise and yoga. I wouldn’t mind doing those with you, if you were interested.” He offers, as he continues to ramble, lost in his own explanation in the hopes of being of service to you. “Some experts even name sex as a useful stress reliever, due to the endorphins and oxytocin released after completion.” 

You give a fruitless laugh. “Jesus, I wish. I don’t have the time to try and find someone willing to do that for me.” 

Spencer goes quiet, and you finally open your eyes. You’re met with his stare, trained on your form, a thoughtful expression on his face. 

“What?” You ask, upon returning his gaze. 

He clears his throat, shaking his head, as if he was ridding himself of a passing thought. “Nothing. Sorry. I’m sorry. I hope you do find something that works for you though. I hate seeing you like this.” 

You soften at his concern. “Thanks, Spencer.” You say, the affection in your voice unmistakable. “Maybe I’ll end up taking on.. Yoga? That seems doable, right?” 

He smiles. “Yoga. Right.” 

The days pass on, until you find yourself in a similar scenario you’ve been in one too many times. You’re pacing the kitchen, a small clock reading that it was currently 2 AM. You couldn’t even really decipher the source of tonight’s anxiety– all you know is you feel it, and you feel it deeply. 

That’s when a voice breaks through the darkness, halting your movements altogether. 

“Hey, are you alright?” Spencer’s soft, slightly deeper voice. 

“Oh, yeah.” You call out, despite the growing tightness in your chest. “I’m fine. You can go back to sleep. Sorry for waking you.” 

He shakes his head, scratching his head as he makes his way towards you. “It’s nothing.” He reassures. “I needed to pee anyway. What’s going on with you?” He inquires, gently. 

You rub at your chest, biting your lip. “The usual.” 

“Work?” He asks, softly. 

You purse your lips. “I’m not even sure at this point. Just really anxious.” 

His expression softens. A beat of silence passes between the two of you. 

“I’m- um. I’m willing to help.” He stammers out, suddenly seeming much more nervous than he was a moment ago. 

You give a dejected smile. “That’s sweet, Spencer, but I dunno. I think I have to deal with this on my own.” 

“No, I mean. I can help. I’m willing to help. To do that for you. I’m your friend. I want to help.” He restates, his voice a little urgent. 

“Willing to do what?” You ask, wholly confused with where he was going with this. 

He takes a breath. “Sex. Or, an orgasm, at least. You said no one you knew would be willing to help you like that. I am. If you want.” He blurts out. 

You stand there, momentarily shocked into silence. You’re suddenly able to recall the conversation you’d had, just a few days prior, and realize what he was trying to say.  Here you were, in your kitchen, with your friend- your roommate, and he was selflessly offering himself to you. For sex. For de-stressing sex.  He sounded so earnest, despite the obvious lewdness of his offer, and the juxtaposition made your head spin. 

“I..” You start, your voice caught in your throat. 

“You don’t have to feel compelled to say yes. I’m just offering. I want to help you.” He interjects, his voice still carrying that unselfishness you’d known from the very beginning. 

“I.. no. I mean, yes. I want to say yes.” You find yourself admitting after a moment. “But.. are you sure? It’s.. I mean, it’s sex, Spencer.” You whisper. 

“I’m aware.” He says, matching your softer tone. “I’m okay with that. Are you?” 

You take a breath. Looking up at him, you take in his slightly tousled hair illuminated by the soft moonlight that drifted in through your apartment windows. His white sleep shirt was crumpled, and even in the darkness that enveloped you, you could decipher the kindness in his eyes, his mere presence bringing a shade of ease into you as you spoke to him. 

“Yes.” You murmur out, the words flowing out with no hesitation. “I’m okay with that.” 

“Can I kiss you?” He says, gently, and your nod of affirmation is almost immediate. 

He steps closer and cups your cheek, before pressing his lips against yours gently. It’s a sweeter kiss, something that, despite never saying out loud, you would have expected from him. His mouth moves languidly against yours, before pulling away, slightly out of breath. 

“Kissing actually helps to reduce cortisol.” He murmurs. “It indirectly lowers stress as a result. Is it working?” 

And true to his words, you realized that the tightness in your chest had faded somewhat, no longer blaring with the intensity you had just felt a few minutes prior. An entirely new feeling settled within you- an ache, a need for this man and what he brought to you. 

“Yeah. It’s working.” You mumble out. 

As if he could read your mind, Spencer gently takes your hand. “Let’s move to the couch, yeah?” He murmurs, already leading you to his spot of preference. 

He gently guides you to sit on the couch, quickly finding your lips once again to exchange some soft kisses along the way. His hands drift up and down your back, fingertips light and tender. His every touch speaks to something more, to an unspoken dedication that you’d never felt before until this moment.

To something that maybe extended beyond the original purpose of your rendezvous. “Is this alright?” He asks, his tone hushed and reverent. 

You nod, almost in a trance. He was so gentle, so reassuring. He was exactly what you needed. 

His lips find yours again and you respond eagerly, letting your hands tangle into the mess of brown hair that sat atop his head. He let out a small groan as your fingers slightly tugged on the strands, sending a thrill through you. 

He starts to trail the kisses down your neck, seeking out more sensitive spots that could bring you into a further state of rest and repose.  Everything about you spurred him on, it seemed. He paid attention to every noise, every movement– his ultimate goal seeming to hinge on your pleasure throughout this. 

Of course, you respond accordingly to the dedication, a soft gasp or whimper escaping you when he would mouth at the perfect spot, which would only cause him to increase his actions tenfold, leading to even more response on your end. 

The perfect feedback loop driving you to pliancy and ecstasy all at once.

His lips begin to drift down, and you realize he’s settling in between your legs now, hands on the waistband of your sleep clothes, urging you to lie down completely, which you do. 

“Gonna take these off now.” He whispers, looking up at you between your legs. 

“Please.” You respond, waiting with bated breath. 

He manages to pull down the last barrier between you two, before being met with the mess he’d created. His lips parted as his fingers trailed lightly over your wet slit, your arousal evident on his finger as he marveled on the effect he could have on you. 

“Jesus, you’re beautiful.” He whispers, as if his eyes are set upon something precious, something worthy of worship. And in a way, isn’t that exactly what he’d set out to do the moment he’d placed his face between your thighs? 

He loops his arms around your thighs, before slowly allowing his tongue to dart out, delicately, tracing the wetness of your pussy. A moan slips out of you, low and needy, and that’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s diving in, devouring your cunt like a man starved. 

“Spencer.” You gasp out. You say his name like prayer, like he is god-given, because in this moment, he is. 

His tongue traces your clit in circles, before directly placing his lips over the swollen bud, applying some light suction. The tenderness in the action, the way his eyes flit upto yours, watching your gaze for the utmost reassurance that he was doing right by you, only hurdle you closer and closer to your pleasurable end. 

It’s almost as if you’re floating, your back arching as his face stubbornly stays buried in your cunt, lapping at your wetness insistently. He wants your release just as bad as you do, and it’s clear he’ll do anything for the sweetness that comes with you falling apart in his arms. 

“Oh god.” You moan out- how is it possible to feel so airy, and yet so present all at once? To feel every movement of Spencer’s warm, wet tongue lavishing your clit, and still be somewhere else entirely- a new height of pleasure you had sorely needed all along. 

One of his hands leaves the iron-grip it had your thighs in, letting his fingers drift towards your entrance. He slips the digits in, slowly pumping into you, only adding to the overwhelming rapture you found yourself in. Your eyes shoot open, and you find yourself writhing against him. 

“Spencer- oh god. Please, please.” You babble out, legs starting to tense with the beginnings of your orgasm. 

He only pulls away enough to murmur softly. “That’s it.” His fingers continue their steady pace into you, his grip on your thigh keeping you planted to the mattress. “I got you, love. Come for me.”

With nothing else to say, he resumes eating you out, and the combination of his fingers and mouth finally barrels you towards your orgasm, shuddering as it rips through you, as your every sense is clouded- with this, with him. 

It’s only until you’ve ridden out the entirety of your orgasm that he pulls away. Sitting upright, he leans forward to caress your jaw, taking in the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the flushed appearance your face had taken on in the throes of gratification. 

“Feeling better?” He asks, softly. 

“Entirely.” You whisper back, almost in awe. Not only at how well it worked, but how adoringly he stared at you, it being enough to stop your heart in your chest. Did he always look like this? How did you never notice? 

“Can I return the favor?” You implore, already beginning to get up, but Spencer pushes you back down lightly, shaking his head. 

“You’re tired.” He says, as if his word was fact, despite these being your feelings that were being spoken about. “Right now, the oxytocin coursing through your body is priming you perfectly for sleep, and God knows you need it.” He chuckles out.

You realize that he’s right, and for the first time, you feel the fatigue that comes naturally with sleep, as opposed to the restless nights you’d been dealing with. You still feel disappointed though, feeling a sting of rejection as you’re unable to touch him back. Still, your tiredness is undeniable, and so you nod. 

He gets up, finding a blanket to lay on top of you, before kneeling beside your face. He looks at you with subtle veneration, before letting his lips brush against your forehead. 

“I’ll take you up on your offer tomorrow, though, if that’s alright.” He murmurs. “When you’re rested.” 

Your smile is immediate. “Deal.” You whisper out. 

He looks at you for another beat, before letting his knuckles brush against your cheek, slowly retreating to his bedroom, as to let you get the rest you so desperately needed. 

You close your eyes, amazed by the tranquility that came with Spencer. How simple intimacy came with him, as if that’s how it should’ve been all along. 

You know you’ll ponder on this fact in greater detail later on, but for now, you relished in serenity of the afterglow. 

“Spencer Reid.” You think. “What divine comfort you are.” 

HOOOLY SHIT. how long has it been since i uploaded? a long time? i think. hahahaha. in between traveling, [redacted life updates], and even more, i just wasn't very inspired to write. i hope this speaks to some of you, and i hope it was enjoyable to read. as usual, any likes, comments, reblogs are so so so deeply appreciated. feedback as well! thank you so so so much for reading regardless, i am eternally grateful for any and all support <3 (oh also haha. this was written for @imagining-in-the-margins friends with benefits challenge! check it out.)

[strwbwrrybunny]

how they react inside you and their favorite positions ft jjk men

cw𐙚 nasty so if you’re under 18, bye!

sukuna 𐙚 kuna definitely isn’t the gentle type. almost immediately after you’re on him, he goes berserk. his movements are wild and unrestrained, like he’s been holding back for too long. you can feel the raw power in every thrust, and it’s overwhelming. he loves doggy, your face is always pressed into the sheets as he pounds into you. he doesn’t care if you’re crying out for him to slow down; in fact, it seems to spur him on even more. he continuously kisses your cervix with his girth, each thrust hitting deeper than the last, making your whole body tremble. his hands grip your hips tightly, leaving marks that will surely bruise, but in the heat of the moment, the pain only adds to the intensity. you can barely catch your breath, every gasp and moan swallowed by the relentless pace he sets.

“move your hand,don’t make me move it for you.”

gojo𐙚 gojooooo is definitely the gentle type. he likes missionary because he likes seeing your face contort with pleasure. gojo always places soft kisses in the crook of your neck, making your skin tingle with warmth. he whispers sweet nothings into your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine, and wipes your tears away with the gentleness of a feather. he always makes sure you’re comfortable, adjusting pillows and blankets, before he starts rolling his hips into you. he lovessssss holding hands while he’s deep inside you, his fingers intertwining with yours, grounding you both in the moment.

“you’re so pretty, i love your face.”

nanami 𐙚 na na mi is the gentle type at first, easing into things with a tender touch. but as you grow accustomed to the stretch, his wild side comes out. he adores spoon fucking, the way he grips your titties with a firm yet loving hold as he jolts his hips into you. the way he buries his face into your cinnamon-scented hair, inhaling deeply, drives him wild. he loves it all, every moment, every sensation, every breath you take together.

“cum on daddy’s dick sweetheart, it’s yours.”

toji𐙚 bigdicktoji is extremely rough. he lets you adjust for a second, maybe, then he absolutely begins to ravage you. toji is nasty as hell—i’m talking about spitting in your mouth, eating your ass. the man is a freak. his favorite position, hands down, is reverse cowgirl. he lovessssss the way he can see your tight lips suckle around him, the sight driving him absolutely wild.

“stop fucking running, you’re pissin me off.take it.”

choso𐙚 choso is mid, he’s not too rough and he’s not too soft. he’s just mid. he always starts off by taking you against the wall, hands digging into your ass, pulling your cheeks apart as he thuds into you. he can nut off the way you play with his hair and scratch his back. he’s a family man, of course, so even when you’re full with his nut, he still remains inside of you. he’s always trying to get you pregnant, making sure every drop counts.

“already shaking?”

geto𐙚 he always lets you get fully adjusted, he lovessss making love to you. every thrust is passionate and leaves you breathless, he loves you so much. but sometimes he loses control and can’t help but drill into your tiny hole, pressing into your g-spot each time. he lovessssssss the lotus position, the way your titties bounce in his face drives him crazy. the way you pull at his hair drives him wild. he’s also an anal man, he loves fucking you in the ass and watching the cum leak from you. oops.

“you’re so pretty when you’re begging.”

[fanaticsnail]

Age Gap: Garp

Birthday Celebration Masterlist

Word count: 1,800

Themes: Garp x f!reader, gendered terms used, smut, mdni, 18+, NSFW, mirror sex, age gap, overstimulation, porn with minor plot, old-man endurance.

Notes: birthday celebration fic! Love Garp and all the fun that comes with him.

Back pressed against the bare chest of the man behind you, knees drawn up over his thighs, he braced you fully against his body with his large forearm. In front of the both of you was a large, rectangular, floor-length mirror: granting you no choice but to witness the actions the man behind you was enacting against your body.

His cock was pressed against your ass, leaking tip smearing precum on your spine while he disappeared his index and middle finger inside your slick pussy. His lips were on your neck, the scratch of his bristle-like facial hair adding to the experience of having someone so much your senior bringing forth this much pleasure to you.

Vice-Admiral Garp was always kind to you in the office. Never once an untoward comment uttered between you, truly the perfect gentleman. Now sprawled on his lap and watching his fingers hook up into your pussy while he whispered into your neck and ear, you had never felt so desired in your life.

Bumping into him after another poorly matched blind date had ended badly was truly serendipitous. You had just finished talking down this overeager match from venturing into a large tirade of how attractive he found himself, which was a large disappointment on your behalf. The younger man that matched you on the marine Den-Den dating frequency just didn’t click with you. He made no effort to learn who you were or what you did for work, and simply assumed the evening would end with him using you like his personal sheathe and disregarding your own needs for pleasure.

Concluding the evening with a firm handshake and your portion of the bill paid for your uneaten food, you stood and left the restaurant without further word as to why. He didn’t even ask you how you were, or paid you compliments on your attire. Sure, you didn’t need any of those things, but watching the man boost his own ego was simply too much for you to give your free evening over to.

When you found the Vice-Admiral laughing with a street-food vendor, you felt a little more at ease. Put of his decorated uniform, in a patterned shirt and cargo shorts with far too many pockets, he just seemed at ease and filled with joy.

As soon as he turned his attention towards you and away from the vendor, he extended out his arm with a broad smile twinkling up at the creases in his eyes.

“My, my, officer, don't you scrub up nice?” he chuckled, gesturing to your attire, “Not saying you don't normally make my office brighter with your radiance, just not accustomed to seeing you outside your uniform.”

“Thank you, Vice Admiral,” you shook your head to chastise him a little, chuckling alongside him, “Had a date.”

“Oh?” he asked you with a small hint of intrigue, “And how did it go?”

Rolling your eyes, you brush past him and gently begin ordering from the street vendor one of their hot specialties, paired with a sweet pastry to follow it. Garp couldn't help but bark a laugh, gently clapping a hand on your shoulder and shaking his head.

“That good, was it?”

“Speaking freely, considering we're both out of uniform and the office is far,” you turned to him while fishing out your Berry, “No. No, it wasn't good. It was, in fact, shit.”

This did nothing to quell Garp’s laughter, only involving the street vendor to chuckle along with the both of you. Sitting in a comfortable air and laughing along at your own misery, you couldn't help but to take Garp in.

Each of his features had this air of charm about him. Smile lines littering his face, creases and crevices that each told a tale of adventure throughout the years. He was far too many years your senior for you to ever consider romantically-.

“-I'll walk you home, love,” Garp suggested, offering out the crook of his elbow and indicating for you to take it. “It's far too late for a pretty woman such as yourself to wander through the trenches. Especially when you're dressed so fine.”

You quirked your brows up, almost scoffing at the suggestion while interlacing your elbow with his own. Taking the street food from the vendor, you held the brown, paper bag in one hand while the other gave his forearm a gentle squeeze.

“Sounds to me like either you don't trust in my abilities to take care of myself, or you don't trust your subordinates and civilians to act appropriately,” you comment slyly. Garp rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging up his whiskered lip.

“On the contrary, I'm actually thinking quite selfishly.” Finally making it to your door, you take a moment to study the man escorting you to your residence.

“Oh?” You asked in response, cocking your head down and seeking out his eyes. “How so, Vice Admiral?”

“It's not every day I have a beautiful woman hanging off my arm and allowing me to lead her home. Reminds me of my youth.” Leaning down, he playfully pursed his lips and enjoyed drinking in your radiance for a moment longer. You felt you had no choice but to laugh and enjoy his attention.

For once, out of these long and drawn out evenings with the large number of singles you had attempted to couple with in the past, you actually felt like you were desired. Not as a body to warm the bed of for a few minutes, not a marine to help rise another in the ranks, but truly desired.

You were not sure of the next few moments: who leaned in first, who removed your dress, who's lips found the others while the door closed behind you, or where you placed the food down while you jumped up and hooked your legs over Garp's hips. None of it mattered.

All that mattered now was how close you were to your impending climax while you watched him bring it on in your glossy reflection. Thick, leathery fingers disappearing into your pussy, crude squelching ricocheting from the corners of your quarters while Garp uttered huskily into your neck.

“How about another one?” he whispered against your skin, “You can give me another, can't you? How many is that now, hm?”

“F-... F-...” you could barely find the words, feeling him brace you against his torso and chuckle in your ear. Gently cooing at you, he pressed his lips to your shoulder and traced the up to your neck.

“My count’s four,” he drew his eyes up to meet yours in the reflection, “See if we can make it five before I give you my cock again, hm?”

“Garp-!” you cried out, feeling your legs shudder and flutter as the coil in your belly wound tightly shut. Your cunt began greedily sucking in his fingers, holding him within you while your high was right within your grasp.

“Oh, you're gonna climax on this old man’s fingers again, aren't you?” he snickered softly, gently biting at your jaw and holding you on the presipis of your edge, “Tell me. Who's making you feel this good?”

“G-G-... Gonna cum-!” you cried out, attempting to curl in on yourself while your high began to sizzle at the corners.

“Not until you say it, sweetheart,” he smiled. His corners creased at the corners, giving him that boyish edge that you had come to enjoy throughout your evening. “Go on. Say it.”

“G-Garp-!” you cried out, watching as his eyes met yours before you darted them down within your reflection to witness the creamy splashback you left on his fingers with your climax.

“Oh, good girl,” he praised you, grinning at you while he expertly ushered you into your high. “Go on, love. Cum on this old man's fingers.”

You threw your head back onto his shoulder, desperately keening and mewling for him while he shepherded you through your high. While one hand moved in and out of your pussy, ushering out your release with sharpshooting efficiency, the other hand braced you against himself while he felt your soul leave your body and join the chiors in oblivion.

Riding your high while trapped on his lap felt unlike anything you'd experienced in couplings prior. He had had you in ways you had never dreamed of: reaching highs you had only ever fantasized about meeting.

Huffing and panting while coming down from your powerful release, he slowed down his expert ministrations before withdrawing his fingers from your pussy and giving your thigh a gentle pat.

“Now, dear,” he unlocked his legs from your own and cradled you into his chest. You limply peered up at him, lulling your head against his collar while he hoisted you easily into his arms. “Remind me how many poor dates you had in the past few months?”

He tossed you back onto the mattress and fluttered his eyelashes down at you with the innocence of a newborn deer walking on stumble legs.

“Eleven,” you panted, a warmth dampening your cheeks and flooding your ears. “Eleven shit dates.”

He gently rose your thighs over his hips, drawing his cock between your folds and lining his tip at your entrance. With a slow chuckle, he began languidly rocking his cock once again into your pussy with an easy rhythm.

“By my numbers, seems we have six to go.” He drew his hips flush with your own, bottoming out with his mushroomed tip kissing at your cervix, “Whatever we can't do tonight, we'll pick up in the morning, yes?”

He gently slotted his arms beneath your shoulders, rocking his cock into your core and drawing out needy gasps from your parted lips.

“Yes,” you gasped in response, your head flinging back to mold your pillow to the shape of your hair while he drew out your ecstasy by his deep thrusts.

“That's my girl,” he uttered softly, continueing to staple you against the mattress with the stamina of a wild beast in rut. With every in-thrust, he let out a soft shuddered call of your name on his breath.

Although he would never admit it he was obsessed with the soft, little, overstimulated sobs you'd let out the closer you'd come to your release. He would give anything to be buried in your radiance, night and day, drawing out more of your ecstasy every time you called on him.

He would have you remember him, know that he could draw this much out of you in a single night without fail. Although he was not as spritely as he was in his youth, he could last much longer than he could back in his hay day.

But you mad him feel so young, so spritely, and so full of energy, he had no choice but to keep going until he deemed you fully satisfied by his hands, tongue, and cock. Anything more would have to wait for negotiations between you and he on the morrow.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @jadeddangel

🎶Happy Birthday to Me🎶

If you would like to celebrate by indulging my caffeine and bubble tea addiction, my Kofi link is here.

[tiannasfanfic]

Not the Wavemother

Astarion x Reader (Fluff)

| Astarion Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 Link |

Summary: Astarion notices your discomfort while you’re trying on your new clothing.

Rating: General Audiences

Author Note: Gender neutral Reader/Tav, they/them pronouns (if any). Spawn!Astarion x Reader/Tav. No class or race for Reader is mentioned in story. No physical description of Reader either, just a general description of how the dress fits. Mild hurt/comfort for Reader with fluffy ending.

CW: Uncomfortable clothes; uncomfortable attention from said clothes; mild innuendo at the end.

Word Count: 9,87

It had taken some convincing, but after a little bit of badgering, everyone finally talked you into trying on the outfit the Wavemother had given you.

You had been very hesitant, took your time changing and only came out after some encouragement from Karlach and Shadowheart.

Everyone fell silent though when you stepped out of your tent.

You looked breathtaking.

The dress was cut within an inch of your life, the fabric hugging close to your body like a second skin. The stooped neckline was exceptionally low, sitting just below your navel, while the slits up both sides of the skirt came just below your hips, showing a considerable amount of skin.

Had Astarion’s heart still beat, he was quite sure it would’ve stopped right then.

Even though he had seen you fully naked, he couldn’t help but stare as you slowly twirled around, letting everyone see the dress on you from all angles. A warm, tingling feeling spread through his abdomen and his stomach felt like it was full of butterflies. It unsettled him at first until he realized what it was.

Desire.

It wasn’t a feeling he was accustomed to yet. While it wasn’t entirely unwelcome with you, it still felt odd to want someone in a physical manner. Before you, he couldn’t remember the last time he was with someone to fulfill his own needs, much less with someone he desired.

But after staring at you for a while, he noticed something was off.

You weren’t holding yourself like you normally would. While you were standing tall and proud, your shoulders were stiff, your posture just slightly hunched. You took everyone’s compliments and comments graciously, a polite smile on your face that was devoid of most emotion.

Suddenly, it dawned on him what it was he was seeing and the warm tingle in his stomach was replaced with a cold knot.

You were severely uncomfortable.

While you were no stranger to tight clothing and even occasionally showed some skin around camp on the warm nights, your normal choices didn’t garner much, if any, attention. Now everyone was looking at you appraisingly and showering you with praise, even Mizora.

And, with each compliment, your expression withdrew a little bit more.

By the time you turned to Astarion, your face was still a polite mask, but the glint you normally had in your eyes wasn’t there.

“You’re bring quiet, Astarion,” you stated, your voice politely neutral. “What do you think?”

It took him one second to decide how best to proceed.

He took a step back and took a long look at you, but it was a thoughtful gaze, as if you were a complicated trap he was about to disarm rather than someone intensely attractive to him.

“Honestly, it doesn’t look very functional to me,” he finally stated, a critical tone to his voice as he pried his gaze up from the dress to your eyes. “It is very cute, but one arrow and you’re done for, darling.”

Astarion’s words had an immediate effect. The stiffness in your posture eased some and your face slightly relaxed.

“Ah, c’mon, Astarion! That’s all you’re going to say?” Karlach said, then she clapped you on the back. “Tav is smokin’ hot right now!”

There was a slight wrinkle in your forehead, so slight anyone would’ve missed it had they not been paying close attention.

Fortunately for Astarion, he was, and already knew how to proceed.

“They are very hot, yes, but I’d much prefer them alive,” he stated, then met your gaze again. “Now, darling, why don’t you go get yourself changed before you catch a cold.”

Everyone booed at him as you hurried back into your tent, Halsin even called him a party pooper, but he didn’t care. He had caught a glimpse of the relief on your face just before you turned to go and that was all that mattered to him.

After changing back into your camp clothes, you were back to your normal self, rejoining everyone at the campfire in a pleasant mood. You took your normal place next to Astarion and slipped his arm around your back. You leaned into his side, your head resting on his shoulder.

Now that the dress was put away, everyone seemed to forget about it and began settling into their nightly routines, leaving you two to watch the fire.

You both were quiet for a while, just watching the flames and enjoying each other’s company, but after a few minutes, you broke the silence.

“I just realized something,” you said.

“Hmm?” he hummed. “And what would that be, darling?”

“You never said what you thought of the dress,” you said, then tilted your head to look up at him. “And you were staring pretty hard, too.”

Astarion looked down at you and carefully studied your expression, looking for any signs of discomfort about the topic. When he didn’t see any on your face, only a little bit of anticipation at his response, he knew you were okay with him speaking freely.

“You looked absolutely stunning, my love,” he said, softly kissing you on the forehead before dropping his voice to a soft murmur only you could hear. “In fact, one day when we have more private accommodations, I certainly wouldn’t mind if you ever wanted to wear it again just for me.”

You blinked up at him in surprise, your cheeks heating up in a blush at his implication. While you were far from a blushing virgin, it wasn’t hard for him to make you a bit flustered.

“Oh really?” you said, then smiled playfully up at him after he nodded. “In that case, I could possibly be persuaded to wear it again.”

He smiled gleefully and kissed you on the forehead again, which elicited a soft giggle from you, before resting his cheek on the top of your head as he returned his gaze back to the fire.

[blackenedsnow]

can you do a keatlejuice x fem reader who passes out a lot due to illness?

faint of heart

WARNING: Mentions of fainting due to illness

PAIRING: Beetlejuice x (Fem) Reader

NOTE: Love this idea! I have this problem as well, just not due to illness. So I hope it wrote it decently enough.

SUMMARY: You’ve been dealing with a medical condition that causes you to faint more often than you'd like. Luckily (or unluckily), Beetlejuice, is always nearby when it happens.

You were used to the feeling by now—the lightheadedness that crept in without warning, the sudden exhaustion that drained the strength from your limbs. Still, no matter how accustomed you were to your illness, it didn’t make it any easier when the world around you started to blur and tilt on its axis. It was happening again, the familiar darkness creeping in at the edges of your vision.

“Damn it…” you muttered, swaying on your feet as you reached out to steady yourself against the wall.

Unfortunately, the wall wasn’t much help, and neither was your body. You could already feel yourself slipping, your knees buckling under you as you collapsed. Just before the darkness fully swallowed you, a voice broke through the haze—raspy and loud, with a hint of annoyance.

“Whoa, whoa, hold up there, sweetheart!”

And then, everything went black.

When you came to, the first thing you noticed was the sensation of being cradled in someone’s arms—scratch that, not someone. You didn’t need to open your eyes to know who it was. The smell of dirt, mildew, and that faint hint of something otherworldly told you everything you needed to know.

“Beej,” you groaned softly, trying to sit up, though a wave of dizziness made you reconsider.

“Yeah, yeah, I gotcha,” Beetlejuice’s voice came from above you, and you felt yourself being jostled slightly as he adjusted his grip on you. “Don’t go makin’ it a habit to pass out every time you see my face. I know I’m hot, but c’mon.”

You blinked up at him, his wild hair and striped suit filling your vision as you tried to focus. He was holding you, bridal-style, with a grin plastered on his pale face that was just shy of mischievous.

“Y’know, I could’ve just let you hit the floor. But nooo, I’m the good guy here, right? Heroic ghost with the most, swooping in to save the day.”

You sighed, shaking your head weakly. “Thanks, Beej… but you’re really not a hero.”

He scoffed, his grin widening. “Sure I am! Who else is gonna catch you when you go timber like that? Nobody cares for ya like I do, babe.”

As much as you hated to admit it, there was some truth to his words. Despite his odd personality and penchant for making a scene, Beetlejuice was always there when you needed him. No matter how irritating he could be on a daily basis, when it came down to moments like these, he never failed to show up. Somehow. At the perfect time.

“Seriously, though,” he said, his voice dropping into something that almost sounded like concern, though he tried to hide it behind his usual bravado. “You gotta stop doin’ this. You’re startin’ to freak me out.”

You managed a weak chuckle, patting his chest. “I don’t do it on purpose.”

“Yeah, I know.” Beetlejuice let out a huff, shifting you in his arms as he looked down at you with those mismatched eyes. “Still doesn’t mean I gotta like it. I mean, who’s gonna laugh at my jokes if you’re passed out half the time, huh?”

“You’re plenty funny without me,” you teased, though your voice was still quiet and a bit shaky.

“Nah,” he smirked. “I’m only funny ‘cause you laugh at all my dumb shit.”

For a moment, you both went into a comfortable silence. Sure, he was Beetlejuice—weird, loud, and often over-the-top—but beneath all that was something softer, something that genuinely cared about you. He wouldn’t admit it outright (that wasn’t his style), but the way he stayed close during your fainting spells, the way he always made sure you were okay, said more than his snarky comments ever could.

“You okay now?” he asked after a beat, setting you down gently on the couch. “You need anything? Water? Smelling salts?”

You shook your head, leaning back into the cushions as you took a few deep breaths. “I’m alright… just give me a minute.”

“Take all the time you need, dollface,” he said, plopping down beside you, legs crossed and his elbow resting on the back of the couch. “But hey, if you feel like passin’ out again, at least let me know so I can catch ya in a cool way next time. Maybe do a little spin, toss ya over my shoulder—y’know, something real dramatic.”

You smiled at him, grateful for the way he could turn even the scariest moments into something almost light-hearted. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Beetlejuice winked, tapping the side of his nose. “That’s my girl.”

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Owe My Life (Jasper Hale)

Summary: Jasper and Reader comfort each other after she was attacked.

WC: 880ish

Warnings: mentions of an attack, some blood,flangst

Read on Ao3!

--

The air was thick with the scent of rain-soaked pine, a damp mist clinging to the mossy forest floor. The overcast sky barely let any light through, casting the woods in an eerie twilight, but you had long grown accustomed to the gloom of Forks. You leaned against the rough bark of a tree, trying to steady your breath, your heart pounding in your chest from the events that had just unfolded.

Jasper stood a few feet away, still as a statue, his amber eyes sharp and watchful as they followed your every move. His face was calm, but you could sense the barely-contained tension radiating from him like static electricity in the air. He always had a way of keeping everything under control—even himself, when necessary—but you could see the strain in him now.

You touched the side of your neck, feeling the faint sting from where the rogue vampire’s teeth had grazed your skin. It could have been so much worse. If Jasper hadn’t been there...

“I owe my life to you,” you said softly, the words heavy with the weight of everything that had just happened. You weren’t sure how else to express it, the gratitude and the fear mixing into something that felt almost surreal.

Jasper turned to you fully, his brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t owe me anything,” he replied, his Southern accent slipping through the words, smooth but serious. “I did what I had to do.”

You shook your head, pushing off from the tree and stepping closer to him. “No, Jasper, you saved me. I—” The words caught in your throat, the gravity of the near-death experience settling over you like a shroud. “If you hadn’t shown up when you did…”

He was in front of you in an instant, his cool hands gently holding your arms, steadying you in a way only he could. His touch was always so careful, so deliberate, as if he was constantly mindful of his strength, of the fragility of your human body.

“I’m always going to protect you,” Jasper murmured, his golden eyes locking with yours. “You don’t ever need to thank me for that.”

His gaze was intense, filled with a depth of emotion that always seemed to simmer just beneath the surface with him. He wasn’t like the others—not as polished, not as perfectly controlled. There was something raw about Jasper, something that made him feel more real, more tangible despite the fact that he was immortal.

“I just—” You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I know what you struggle with. I know how hard it must have been for you... after what happened.” You glanced down, remembering the brief but deadly scuffle, the scent of your blood in the air. Jasper had stayed in control, but you had seen the flash in his eyes, the momentary flare of hunger quickly replaced by the cold, calculated soldier he had become in a fight.

Jasper’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t let go of you. “It’s nothing compared to losing you.”

His words hit you like a punch to the chest, their quiet intensity making your breath catch. Jasper had always been protective of you, but this felt like more. Like a truth, he’d been holding back for far too long.

You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “Jasper, I don’t want you to keep thinking that you’re a danger to me. You’re not.”

His eyes softened, but there was still a sadness there, something deep and old and worn from centuries of guilt and self-loathing. “I’m always going to be a danger to you,” he said quietly. “That’s just the truth of what I am.”

You reached up, gently placing your hand on his cheek, feeling the cool smoothness of his skin beneath your fingertips. “Then let me decide if it’s worth the risk,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the weight of the moment. “Because for me, you’re worth it. Every time.”

Jasper closed his eyes briefly, as if the weight of your words was too much to bear. When he opened them again, there was something like relief there, a softening of the sharp edges he usually kept around himself.

“You’re stronger than you know,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent. “Stronger than me.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

He didn’t smile, but there was a gentleness in his expression that made your heart ache. “I mean it.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there in the quiet of the forest, the world outside feeling far away. The danger had passed, but the bond between you had only grown stronger in its wake.

“I don’t need you to owe me anything,” Jasper said after a long pause, his voice softer now, the tension finally easing from his frame. “Just stay with me. That’s all I ask.”

You nodded, your hand still resting on his cheek, feeling the coolness of his skin against the warmth of yours. “Always.”

And in that moment, despite everything—the danger, the uncertainty, the darkness that always seemed to linger around you—you knew that you meant it. Because with Jasper, you were never alone. And no matter what came next, you’d face it together.

tags!

EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky

[bel1ewrites]

Booth Five (Sam Carpenter x Reader)

A/n: Here's another one, love you guys.

WC: Idfk

Warnings: smut, top!Sam, bossyish!reader, slightly public sex, thigh riding, more thigh riding, Sam in fancy work clothes

NUMEROUS visits to her favorite place after a long, hard day of work had forced Sam's ears to grow accustomed to the deafening thunder of sensual music that pumped through the hazy club.

Ever since the very first week of her new life in the the city, Sam had made sure to become somewhat of a regular at The Vanity. She made sure to commit each and every worker to memory, even went out of her way to tip a little extra every visit. It was just who she was. She loved to pay attention, and she loved to be aware.

She did not, however, love to be confused.

From her spot on a cracked leather couch, she sits with a drink in her hand, the top few buttons of her shirt undone, and she watches you move. The colored lights run over your body like waves on a shore, black lace the only thing stopping you from being fully exposed. It's euphoric, the way you move. It's familiar and free, icy hot. Sam takes a pull of her drink.

------

"You've got a private booking, honey," your boss calls as you fuss with your hair in the vanity mirror. She's a firecracker of a woman, short and curvy. The voice of a smoker mixed with the tone of a caretaker. "Booth five."

It hadn't taken you long to understand the inner workings of your place of employment. Annoyingly, nothing was ever straightforward, and booth five was not an exception to this rule.

You'd learned that an hour with one of the dancers in booth five had to cost more than your rent; which, albeit, didn't say much. It was the coldest spot in the whole club, nothing but dark red walls and a single black couch, and you couldn't really tell if it was the air vents or the dark aura that made you shiver when you passed it.

This is the first time anyone has requested for you to be in there.

"Um," your voice is steady as you turn around, smoothing a hand over non existent fabric out of nervous habit, "Is it cool if Amber takes this one?"

A beat passes.

"The patron requested for it to be you." If she notices the way your heart drops, she doesn't mention it. Only smiles crookedly and nods, effectively dismissing you from the comfort of being alone.

The beat of your heart doubles that of the music as you walk out of the room, a little unsure and a little irratic. Your heels feel too tall, your chest too tight.

Dancing was different. Dancing didn't bring forth any unwanted social interaction. Sure, there was the occasional creep, but they never really bothered you much when you could tune them out with thoughts of being beneath your covers with hot Chinese food and your cat curled up on your lap.

This was intimate. This was private and there was really no practical way of getting out of it.

You're sure you're going to pass out when you reach the outside of the booth, nothing but a thin curtain separating you from the unknown man waiting inside. Is he married? Is he demanding? Does he expect anything more than a lap dance from you?

A job is a job, you remind yourself, breathing deeply once, twice before stepping inside.

The air is charged. Static pulses around you. So its a woman. There's a woman a few feet in front of you.

She sits there, back against the couch and legs spread like she owns the place, shirt slightly unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up. She's tall and dark and has the look of someone who's grown accustomed to getting what she wants one way or another. Her eyes drop down your figure, lingering at certain parts unabashedly. They run over every inch of you slowly, methodically. She wets her lips.

"Hello." She speaks. Her voice is fire and ice. It's raspy and smooth, dark and calculated and so insanely perfect that it makes your ears ring a little.

It's your turn to say something, anything, really. You really do try to greet her, even open your mouth for a second before promptly shutting it again.

"It's reasonable to expect a greeting after one says hello, is it not?" Her brow raises. It seems that all it takes for you to gain your composure is a little confrontation.

You close the still open door and take a step forward, trapping a palpable tension in the room along with the sound of muffled music.

"Sorry about that, I just wasn't expecting... this." Amusement flashes in her eyes. "You weren't expecting a woman?" She questions, patting the space beside her and signaling for you to sit.

There's room for her to scoot over and create a comfortable amount of space between your bodies, but that doesn't seem like something she wants.

Your body moves without your mind's consent, "no, I wasnt," you answer, taking your seat.

She hums, the scent of her cologne wafting over you like a drug. "Disappointed?" she asks, bottom lip puffed out in a teasing pout.

The couch is cold beneath you, but that doesn't stop the fire from rushing to your cheeks. Nervously, you run a hand through your hair and smile, trying not to let her undeniable smoothness get in the way of yours.

"Oh, hardly," you let out a raspy huff of laughter and you can't help the way your eyes flit to her mouth.

A smirk tugs at her lips, pout dropping entirely. "Well aren't you fiery."

"Why did you ask for me?" you pry, gaze hooded.

"Why wouldn't I?" She questions, tone serious and eyes on yours. The air feels thick around you.

She truly is a beautiful woman, silky black hair and dark eyes surrounded by thick lashes. The muscles in her arms pull at the fabric surrounding them. You suddenly feel underdressed.

"Amber normally takes this booth," you offer truthfully.

Amber was a favorite amongst the club. She was all dark smiles and sinful moves. You appreciated her for her wit and ability to seem completely calm at all times; a skill you wish you had.

Her hand drops to the bare flesh of your upper thigh. "I didn't ask for Amber, did I?"

Sam had interacted with the girl numerous times. She'd been working here since that first night and was undoubtedly beautiful, but she didn't feel drawn to Amber like she did you. Her body didn't light up when she saw her like it did with you. You were different.

"What's your name?" you pry.

The heat of her gaze along with that of her palm on your thigh sends jolts down your spine. You can see the muscles in her jaw move as she grits her teeth, swallowing hard.

"Sam."

"Why did you ask for me?" you ask again, eyes on her dark and blown pupils. Your own gaze is hooded, lashes low as you look up at her.

She smiles wolfishly, teeth flashing. "Can't a girl want to get to know someone?"

"Well," you look down at her mouth, "I guess when you put it that way."

The air around you seemed to grow thick, tension lacing through it. Her aura was intoxicating, the way it consumed you so quickly, made you want to give her everything.

She hums, tightening her grip on your thigh, "For such a pretty girl you sure do ask a lot of questions," the words fall from her lips, tone low and dripping with want.

"Yeah?" You smile.

"Yes." She shoots back.

"Really?"

She ignores you, looking at you so intensely you almost think you did something wrong.

"Can I kiss you?"

You nod, maybe a little too eagerly but you can't help it. When she kisses you it's softer than you expect it to be, like she's testing the waters. Her hand runs up your thighs, teases its way to your hip and squeezes the flesh there. It makes your head spin and your heart race, heat settling in your lower stomach.

Teeth graze your bottom lip as she pulls back a little. "Come here," The woman breathes into your mouth. She guides you onto her lap, smiling and leaning further into the couch. You have to arch forward to kiss her again, something that isn't an accident on her part.

Hands grip at your waist, your hips, your ass. She's deepening the kiss like it's pushing life into her and she can't get enough. it's a needy, panting scene as her lips and tongue slide over yours.

She kisses you like you've never been kissed, skill and need intertwining into a moment that makes you dizzy. She's all soft lips and rough teeth, nipping and sucking and soothing.

The musky scent of her cologne messes with your head and you can't stop your hips from moving, seeking pressure to tame the heat inside of you.

She trails her lips down to your neck, hand pulling at your hair to tilt your head back. "That's it, baby," Sam coos, teeth scraping under your jaw, "use my leg." She shifts the two of you before you can do anything, moving you to straddle her thigh. Her lips latch onto a sensitive spot on your neck as she pushes her leg up and into you.

"Fuck," you gasp out, gripping her shoulders and arching further into her. The position gives her mouth easy access to your chest.

The fabric of your lace bra is easy for her to move to the side, baring your hardened nipple to her.

"You're so pretty," She groans beneath you, pressing her tongue to the sensitive bud.

Pleasure shoots through you and you suppress a moan at the feeling of her skilled mouth against you. She's pulling at your hips, guiding their movements as you rock into her. It's hard to remember where you are, how any of your coworkers can walk in if they want to. All you can think about is how muscular her leg is through her pants as it presses into your clit in just the right way, how strong her hands are as they grasp at your body like it's her lifeline.

It's almost embarrassing, how worked up this stranger has you. She's touching you like she knows your body, and you can feel your wetness soaking through your fabric. Truth be told, you'd been wet since she first spoke, voice smokey and addicting.

She sucks your tit into her mouth, tongue lashing at your nipple and you have to push her away before you get loud. She protests as you send her back to leaning against the couch, but ultimately keeps quiet when you bury your head in her neck to muffle your moans.

"That's it, just like that pretty girl," She whispers in your ear while you grind against her, leg rubbing your clit just right each time. "You sound so pretty."

Needy whines and sighs escape your throat, lips pressed to her neck while she pushes her thigh harder into you. She hums at the feeling, sound deep and rasped.

You would be disappointed in yourself for being so close this fast, and over the clothes no less, but you can't feel anything other than the pressure in your lower stomach building and building.

"It's so good," you admit breathily into her neck, nails digging into her upper back through the button up. You can feel the firm muscles there, and you can't help but picture them rippling as she fucks you.

"What's so good?" she asks like she already knows the answer.

Her voice sends you spiraling further, the almost taunting tone laced in her words. "The way you touch me."

She laughs lowly, "Oh? You close?" Her head turns as she presses a kiss to your cheek, you pull your head out of her neck and look her in the eyes.

"Use your hand," you order, grabbing her right wrist and dragging it towards where you want it.

The look that washes over her almost pushes you over the edge, the way she listens to your command and presses her fingertips to your clit.

The texture of the fabric rubbing against you feels overwhelmingly good, tension building in your body. You watch her with your eyes half open and your lips parted, watch as she drinks you in with her eyes.

Everything about her is skilled, the way she moves her hand in hard circles and pushes into you. Her free hand wraps around your neck gently and pushes you back a bit so that she can see more of you, your free nipple and the blush spreading across your chest. The action combined with the slight pressure on your neck makes your eyes roll back, a curse falling from your lips.

"Faster. Fuck, Sam," you tilt your head back and move with her hand, "I'm so close."

She listens so good, movements speeding up just how you asked. It feels so good, the warmth spreading throughout your body and coiling in your stomach. You're panting needily, orgasm rushing towards you, its presence overbearing.

"So bossy," She teases.

A slew of words grace your lips, body falling forward to mask the volume of your moans in the crook of her neck. She moves with precision, never once slowing down or faltering.

"Come on, baby," She urges, "cum on my hand."

It only takes a few more movements before you're doing just that, body tensing up and shuddering above her. The orgasm hits you like a bullet train and drags itself out, lasting longer than any other you'd ever had.

The feeling of her arm around your back, fingers still moving on your clit to guide you through makes it last longer. Her voice is in your head, grounding you as she whispers.

Her hand is gone from your clit and her neck is sweaty from the combined body heat by the time you pull back, shaking slightly. The reality of the situation doesn't hit you, just lingers in the back of your mind as you look at her.

"Hi," you say, hair sticking to your forehead slightly.

"Hi," She smiles sweetly back. "Sorry about the hickeys, I got a little carried away."

Your nipple hurts a little from the intensity with which she sucked at it, and you know your neck is riddled with marks.

"It's okay," you smile back, "but you'll have to be the one to let my boss know where they came from."

Her smile turns sheepish, though you can tell she doesn't regret leaving them. "Only if I can see you again," her arms tighten around your waist, lips brushing yours.

"Deal."

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐀

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: zoro doesn't dance, but he has no issue in watching you twirl yourself off your feet. so long as you twirl back to him when your feet get tired.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: opla!zoro x fem!dancer!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: use of Y/N, swearing, dancer!reader, fluff

𝐎𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

He was terrified, but not terrified enough to deny that you held his very life in your hands. Zoro didn’t mind that, not at all; you were gentle and funny and lovely and kinder than he deserved. Yet, you were real, as he often was reminded when you carded your hands through his hair with a little laugh and a mumbled, “Dumbass.”

No, Roronoa Zoro was terrified of how much he’d grown accustomed to your entire being.

It was also mildly frightening that you knew fully well just what he would do for you. Zoro admitted, he never tried very hard to hide it, not after your quiet little confession of affection some months ago, under the starlit sky, the wind brushing your hair away to reveal your face.

He’d been yours long before then, but only now he didn’t care to hide his adoring stares and relished in the little way you hooked your pinky with his when you were nervous. How your eyes searched him out when you entered a room. How your kisses grew from shy to ravenous as your relationship progressed.

It was safe to say he was certain you were as infatuated as he was, if not more, though that was a heated topic of debate between the pair of you (“There’s no way you love me more than I love you.” “Wanna bet?” “Zo, I literally took a bullet for you.” “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to bring that up… Why the fuck—!”)

A grin ghosted over Zoro’s face at the memory, and how you’d just laughed as he scolded your reckless affection. His grin grew to a smile before he could cool his expression, and then the warmth of your palm was cupping his jaw, drawing his face closer to yours. 

In the low light of the tavern, he swore you glowed. Or maybe it was the three shots of vodka in your system. Either way, you were an angel if Zoro ever knew one. An angel who blessed him with your touch and your teasing little smirk as you asked, “What’s got you smiling?”

“You,” he replied like a reflex. Leaning into your touch, he cast a look around the tavern, scoping out your other crewmates for signs of disturbance. Luffy and Usopp were at the bar, Nami was swindling a woman at the booth across from yours, and Sanji was charming up a brunette in the corner. None of the other patrons minded your crew, so Zoro allowed his shoulders to lose just a bit of their tension, and his hand drifted from his sword to your hand, tugging on it gently to urge you to sit beside him instead of across.

Giddy, you jumped up and hurried to his side, sliding in till your thigh was flush with his. Zoro’s body warmed as you leaned into him, not caring to ask as you took his arm and wrapped it around your shoulder, gazing up at him softly. Your comfortability filled him with confidence; how you moved with such familiarity in his presence, and how it contrasted from when you first met—it was enough to make his ribs crack just to have room for his rapidly expanding heart.

“Good answer,” you teased. You reached up to card your fingers through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp and smirking wider as he grunted and closed his eyes. “Tired?”

Zoro huffed a laugh. “No.” 

It was your turn to reminisce, watching as your swordsman melted before you, guard nowhere to be seen. Yours. Never would you have thought you’d actually get to call him that, but here you were, after all the odds and barriers of character.

You particularly enjoyed how he looked just now, eyes closed as you gazed up at him. Once upon a time, Zoro would whip around to make sure you never stood at his back, always ensuring you were nowhere near his blindspot. Now, you mused, he often slept with his back to your chest, your fingers trailing shivers up and down his arms. 

Now, his dead eyed gaze didn’t instill you with paralytic nerves; you knew he was more bark than bite, at least with you. 

Your dumbass.

“Oi, Y/N!” called Usopp, who had moved from the bar to the wide open space many used as a dance floor. The band of various instruments played a whimsical tune, the rhythm causing your knee to bounce in time.

You raised your brows. “Yep?”

Luffy wrung an arm around Usopp and laughed like a lunatic. “Come dance!”

Your eyes were droopy and honestly, you just wanted some sleep—but who were you to deny your captain? Besides, weren’t you the Strawhats’ resident deathly little dancer? 

Casting your boyfriend a look only to find him pursing his lips, you giggled and kissed his frown away, escaping the booth in his brief surprise.

Zoro watched as you leapt to your feet and practically floated with the grace in your steps. As much as Zoro trained and as hard as he tried, he’d never been as graceful with a sword as you were now. Somehow, that made him love you more.

A fiddle and drum, a flute and dulcimer—from what Zoro could tell with his limited knowledge, the music was exactly your style. A lively sort of sound. 

And as the music blossomed anew, Zoro spotted that tell tale sparkle in your eye; you had something up your sleeve, per usual, and as your toes started to tap against the ground he knew you’d be amazing, per usual. 

Luffy’s enthusiasm drew attention, and soon enough a crowd had formed.

You clapped your hands in a steady rhythm, twirling around in the middle of a circle of people, their gazes trapped by your every move. The crowd soon mimicked your clapping. From the front of the circle, Luffy and Usopp cheered louder than the rest.

Zoro leaned this way and that to keep his eyes locked on you, but it became increasingly difficult as you drew them near like moths to a dancing flame.

With an arabesque leading into a balancé, you glanced over your shoulder and caught Zoro’s eye through the people. His heart stuttered.

You laughed, pure joy in your lungs, and shifted your style from more classical to something looser. You twirled and curved your arms in an “S” shape before pointing your foot and scraping it in the dirt in a wide Rond de Jambe. The movement was swift and agile as you continued to follow the flow of the music, completely in your element. 

Mind elsewhere, Zoro hardly realized he’d stood up, not until he had forced his way through the crowd and stopped between Luffy and Usopp. The clapping all around him was deafening, only made worse by the sweet torture of your laugh. 

Again, your eyes locked him in place as you swept toward him, only to take Luffy by the hands and twirl him around with you. Zoro scoffed and folded his arms over his chest, unable as ever to hide the smirk tugging at his face. 

A giggle left you as Zoro’s face got lost in the whirl of your surroundings. You started a swing dance with Luffy, releasing him a second later to drag a newly approached Nami into the fun.

Your head spun and your feet ached—yet you would never feel happier than when you danced with your friends.

Well, you might’ve been a bit happier when dancing with your special green haired friend, but you knew him well. If you were to drag Zoro into the circle and dance him into the ground in front of all these people, he’d be compliant, but less than pleased.

No. When you danced with Zoro, it wasn’t like this; it was slow and steady, to the rhythm of nothing but the sea. It was deep in the belly of the Going Merry, when the crew was fast asleep, and the moon hung high. When you had the world to yourselves, and could sway in the hold of the other without interruption.

It was simple and plain, but it held a very special place in your heart.

Nami let you spin her around, rolling her eyes before she yelped as you pulled her in and dipped her low. She snorted into a laugh and stumbled a bit, grabbing your arms to keep you from whirling her around again.

Shooting her a wink as she all but ran back to the bar, you danced on light feet once more, starting up a roar of steady clapping. 

Your swordsman stood in awe, his eyes desperate to catch as much of your radiance as he could, like you'd disappear at any moment. He always believed good things never last, but he’d die before he let this one end. Because you were Zoro’s best thing, and he refused to grow a similar policy surrounding best things.

So when you had spun off your balance and teetered off your feet, he was there, his arms scooping under yours and catching you against his chest. Out of breath, you looked up and found his eyes, letting the rest of your weight lean into him as he stood a steady post. 

“Hey,” you giggled. 

“Hi.” Zoro tilted his head. “Ready?”

You were back on your own feet in an instant, thoughts of a warm bed more enticing than dancing through to dawn. So you took his hand and beelined through the crowd, shoving your way through and dragging Zoro along. You winded up collecting Nami by the door, and waited up for Sanji too. The navigator and chef yawned in time, their eyes droopy.

You were no better, your steps lazy as you mindlessly followed after Zoro and the others. It felt as if you’d blinked and you were back on the Merry, gazing up at Zoro who only nudged you with his shoulder. “You up?”

You grunted in reply and promptly led the way to your shared cabin, throwing open the door and letting go of his hand. You plopped into the blankets and at once felt yourself melt into them. The bed dipped a second later. Rolling over, you grinned up at your boyfriend, finding him with his brows met.

“Gonna take off your shoes?” he asked, though it sounded more like an order. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you huffed, lugging yourself back up to undo your laces and rip the offending apparel off. You turned to find him under the blanket, holding up one end to make you room, and you settled in beside him. Your head found its natural place on his chest, sleep just on the other side of the mental door, so to speak.

Lost in thought, you barely registered the words spilling from your lips. “I love you.”

It felt natural, like a breath you needed to survive. You wanted to say it again, then once more, and maybe again just for good measure. 

Zoro stiffened, his face going an embarrassing shade of red, and he was grateful you weren’t able to see it from your place tucked against his side. He barely even breathed, wondering how much time had really passed since you’d uttered those worldbreaking words. It must’ve been longer than a few minutes; you were fast asleep, none the wiser. 

He swallowed thickly and sank deeper into the bed, wrapping his arms tightly around you. He’d deal with figuring out how to say it back in the morning, and decide whether it’ll be the full truth some time later. Or, that was the plan anyhow.

Zoro really couldn’t hold back how you consumed his thoughts—his deathly dancer—and he could deny it all he wanted, but Roronoa Zoro had fallen in love, and apparently, you had as well.

The swordsman grinned, pressing a kiss to your hairline and forcing his eyes shut. How he got so lucky to have you love him, he had no clue. All he knew was you made his life a sweet kind of complicated, and he wouldn’t want you any other way.

[v4voracity]

TOO CLOSE - SELF AWARE COD CHARACTERS X READER

⥇❥"Reader" is described as "feminine leaning" or "feminine sounding"; however, they/them and it/its pronouns are used and no bodily adjectives are used in this part because reader is only described as "that person" or "the voice". Let me know if I should make an alternate post(s) slightly adjusted for masculine or androgynous description, and if I missed any content warning tags. I plan on making a masculine version for this one due to someone's request, currently deciding if I should just slightly re-write to change descriptions or fully-rewrite it :)

  ⥇❥Word Count: 3940, excluding warnings and text above the cut.

⥇❥CONTENT WARNING FOR:

↪ body horror(?) ↪ usual “Darkfic” stuff,  ↪ yandere tendencies ↪ Angst™ ↪ possible OOC characters ↪ american author writing (mostly) british people

I totally plan on continuing this drabble with another part so some of the warnings aren't quite apparent yet teehee <3

Link to main masterlist - Link to TOO CLOSE sub-list

You have been warned, scroll at your own risk.

There was always that nagging feeling that Ghost was being watched, paranoia which he had long since grown accustomed to. But, there were always times he felt it… heighten, where this…  this strange sense of dejá vu seemed to take root in his mind. Sometimes, he felt like his movements weren't his own despite it being his will that moved those joints.

It occurred often after he joined the military, and occasionally, when in the quiet of his thoughts, he could hear something. At first, he thought it was a teammate coming through his comms, yet “the voice” wasn't familiar. 

He remembered when he first heard it. 

A quiet voice saying something he didn’t quite catch. He sighed, heavy and annoyed at himself, focusing a bit more on the radio firmly strapped to his chest as he pressed a button with a familiar practiced ease. Despite the fact he laid prone on the ground, hidden amongst foliage he had no trouble reaching it and speaking up. It was… slightly embarrassing that he lost focus and needed to repeat instructions, but he’d rather face slight embarrassment over fumbling an important mission because he didn’t want to ask for them to repeat what was said. Not that Simon “Ghost” Riley was afraid of dying. As a soldier he honestly felt more fearful that he’d fuck up a mission and get yelled at by a superior. That he’d hurt people he was trying to protect. That he’d prove that nagging voice in the back of his head right, the annoying doubtful little shit always lingering despite his confidence that had grown with experience. 

Regardless, he didn’t care to debate with himself about yet another experience that would keep him up at night, wallowing in his bed thinking about everything he could’ve done differently. “Say again?” He asked, cautious to remain quiet and hidden, yet gravely tone firm and clear enough for the other side of his line to hear. Yet no one on the other side of the line said anything previously, voicing their confusion when he asked them to repeat something never said.

Yet no other soul was around the precarious position he perched himself, his scope aimed at distant enemies. He even briefly glanced around, surveying his surroundings for possible danger, anyone, anything. Then “the voice” came through again, energetic and excited— far too unprofessional for how serious that mission was. ‘A recruit,’ he would’ve thought if not for the fact nobody else acknowledged it.

However, once the mission ended, that strange feeling faded, and “the voice” didn't appear again… 

…Until a few months later, on another mission.

The uncomfortable feeling of being watched, the almost foreign feeling of his own body, and “the voice” returned. His skin crawled.

 As if something had forcefully crept beneath it, lifting the skin and making itself comfortable in his body. Claiming it for itself as it burrowed deep into the muscular fiber, into his organs, and flowed in his veins in place of blood. It felt… parasitic and invasive. It disturbed him greatly how the feeling came and went suddenly without cause. Leaving him as it wished and then showing up without warning, without his permission. How it happened to him regardless of how steeled his nerves were. Of how experienced he became.

And, as he would soon find, no matter how intensely he looked around, nobody else was present. Yet “the voice”, which he had to strain to even remotely understand, seemed to respond as if they could see him based on the few words he could catch. 

“HOLY SHIT! He looks so cool, dude! Look at his fuckin’ rifle, his gear! This was so worth the wait. He’s got a new mask too! I’m so glad they brought him back, ugh, literally my favorite poster boy of the whole franchise.”

And if Ghost focused a little bit more, he'd notice it didn't quite sound right, as if it wasn't speaking aloud. “The voice” didn't echo around the room when he was inside, didn't echo through the air when he was outside, nor did it have the crackle of the radio. It was simply muffled, like if someone talked from a room over.

“...Uh, yeah, it was totally worth the fifty-freakin-bucks. Rent can wait, my war criminal pookies can’t! …Yes I know they’re probably not actual war criminals. Yeah, I KNOW they’re… man, you’re no fun. Let me simp in peace.”

Ghost knew he hadn't exactly been the… most sound of mind, but he truly began to worry he might have been hallucinating. “The voice” had been following him for an increasingly long amount of time at this point, and he mostly tuned it out. He recently found himself in a new group though, which led to a disturbing realization that he wasn’t fully insane. His worries about that were swiped away when Soap (his new sergeant who was a little too talkative for his own good, in Ghost’s opinion) ever-so-casually asked about “the voice” he overheard during the mission, which he couldn't quite recognize. Everyone in the helicopter was surprised on the ride back, anxiously discussing that faint voice they'd all heard— had been hearing on and off during missions. It gave Ghost a whole new fear.

It was no secret that a majority of the people in base and on missions with them were men, so that distinctly feminine voice being hard to pinpoint caused a new worry among the team. The potential breach of their communication network. The topic came up as an innocent question from Soap about who “the voice” was before everyone realized they all heard that voice, contradictory in how it sounded so near yet so far, so clear yet it hurt their heads to try and process what was said, clouding their minds in a haze if they tried focusing on it for too long.

It was a clear cause for concern. 

Their task force, Task Force 141, a highly-qualified team, who frequently had taken on missions even some of the most seasoned veterans would find difficult.

Their task force, carefully hand-picked from all corners and crevices of the globe, skills compared, packed like a puzzle to cover all fronts. Their identities and information taken apart and put back together, their secrets in the open to the prying eyes of Captain Price as he was given the authority to form a team. Personalities scrutinized against one another to ensure the utmost efficiency and dynamic interactions between teammates.

Their taskforce, the best of the best, highly efficient, a well oiled machine crafted with the utmost caution for the most risky, dirty, and sometimes immoral missions that most wouldn't be able to stomach. All for the betterment of the world and for the protection of their homes and countries.

And yet they couldn't find a single trail, not a single damn clue, about this… voice. "That voice" that came and went almost exclusively on missions, too. There were very, very few cases where it breached outside of missions. Truthfully, Ghost didn't know what he found worse. That the team heard it outside of missions where they didn't have radio communication, simply just out and about, or that it had breached past the sanctity of the missions, crossing into the supposed safe zone of their respective bases, homes, and private lives. Passing the line that they usually hide behind for comfort after rough missions, the place they went to lick their wounds, to reload their guns, and to confide in each other. And this thing, brash and bold came through, kicking that metaphorical line in the sand and bouncing past their defenses without repercussions.

It started in instances where they could ignore it. 

Where it could've been just their mind playing tricks or someone who sounded similar.

At first it was Soap, running around the track and hearing it faintly. He could've mistaken it for the music blaring through his ears if it wasn't for the fact he knew the lyrics by heart, and the singer sounded nothing like "that voice".

“Whoa, Soap cutscene. We’re being fed today. Get your bowls 'n spoons.”

He could’ve sworn he even heard a ‘clank’ of glass or something. It was worse when he realized his earbuds didn't block out “the voice” anymore than usual. It was always somewhat muffled and incoherent unless he focused, even in the quiet. Yet the earbuds in his ears didn't alter it at all. He took a longer shower than usual that day, trying to let the cold water shock him enough to forget what he heard while thoughts ran wild in his head… It ended with him being slightly late to an important team meeting and getting assigned some training as punishment. He chose to keep why he was late a secret, not wanting to startle anyone about “the voice” or sound crazy.

Then it was Gaz. Friendly, slightly more inexperienced than the rest, Gaz. Gaz was on temporary time off, having accidentally pulled a muscle in his arm. He was simply walking through the streets of a nearby town where he had rented a flat. He rarely actually used the thing, since he spent most of his time at base and it was more convenient to use the barracks. Nevertheless, he still found himself in the quaint little town, going for groceries to stock his apartment's fridge. He was weaving through the streets when he heard that odd and unrestrained laugh, snorting and uncaring if it's an embarrassing laugh. 

“Gaz… my pookie-wookie, my cutie-patootie, my absolute ray of sunshine… WHOMST THE FUCK IS DRESSING YOU LIKE THAT?!”

He probably looked like a madman with how frantically he looked around, suddenly stiffened and still as some people complained behind him from how abruptly he stopped, causing them to bump into him. Yet nothing conclusive, he couldn’t even figure out the direction it came from, much less find out who it came from. He didn’t bother talking about it, only loosely mentioning it later when it came up in a discussion.

After that it was Price and Laswell. The two of them standing in a surprisingly mundane office in the base, not expecting much when that bold-fucking-voice echoed through both of their ears. Something about being a homewrecker? They… didn’t know. 

“Laswell!!! Man I wish they had her appear more often, she’s so cool… I’d totally marry her if she didn’t have a wife… What do you mean you’d become a homewrecker in seconds? Have some fuckin’ respect for the woman. Besides I thought you liked Price? He’s… single? I think?”

But it forced both of them to lose their casual mood from before, because they both heard it and neither of them knew what to think about the fact that they were hearing it outside of missions now. That… that was very bad.

The last straw was when Ghost was handing spare masks to the team when there's a faint comment about it. He can't quite hear it, can't quite wrap his mind around what's being said. No one ever seems to make out the words; at least not fully. As if there's a barricade between them and “the voice”. A veil yet to be ripped away to reveal the person underneath. A blockade made to infuriate them and taunt their attempts.

“How many do you think he has?”

A small silence follows the initial voice, as if waiting for a response, then followed with a giggle. A response unheard to his ears, to anyone’s ears. The others tense, hearing "the voice", but no one comments on it at the moment. They had a mission to get to. But they all knew they needed to do something when they got back.

“They probably do smell. They’re out there hiding in grass, getting bloody and sweaty, sometimes deployed for a month, so they definitely stink.”

And yet nothing came of that either. The only thing that changed is that they were all aware of this voice that seemed to follow them. That only their taskforce ever seemed to hear or acknowledge it. That "the voice" came from everywhere and nowhere all at once, sounding as if it was being broadcasted directly to their brains. No trace of this thing only they could perceive, and they started coming to conclusions that were less than rational; because rational thought hadn’t gotten them anywhere thus far. Gaz suggested it might’ve been a ghost, to which Price corrected that it must be a demon rather than a ghost, Soap suggested it was some weird matrix shit, then Laswell tried to convince everyone it was some weird shared delusion. They couldn’t settle on any theories. Ghost didn’t need an explanation. Or at least, he tried convincing himself that, tried telling himself he just needed this thing gone.

These abrupt drop-ins by “the voice” went on for a long while. Something they regrettably got used to. Something they let fester and become a part of them, even if they didn't know it. “That voice” ingrained into their brains, the elated giggles, the annoyed groans, the triumphant cheers, the frequent queries, answers to questions they never heard, stupid comments, everything in-between... 

Ghost didn't notice at first. Time went on, the Task Force's missions increasing after they bombed General Ghorbrani during an arms deal Ghost intercepted. Things were escalating into a silent war the general populace wouldn’t notice, and likely never know about, kept quiet and under wraps to keep the waters calm. The voice lingering on every damn mission, somehow with all of them at once even if they were in different corners of the globe. 

Then he had a wave of realization wash over him.

It was an easy mission compared to the previous few. An easy in-and-out. Just him and Soap, watching a building from afar. Biding their time. He felt anxious, a long gone twitch in his fingers resurfacing as he felt his fingers become clammy beneath his gloves. 

He had to stay calm, stay cool. He was ‘Ghost’ right now, a walking dead-man without weakness. He was strong. This mission was easy. 

This was no time to be antsy. Patience, he reminded himself. It was just him coming down from the high of adrenaline of the previous missions, all fast paced and requiring frequent combat. That's what he tried to tell himself, when that bloody Scotsman casually began chattering over the radio.

Jokes, bad ones, yet jokes he shared an enthusiasm for with Soap nonetheless. Ghost could tell there was a slight edge to his voice as he spoke though, equally antsy. He may have been somewhat distant but he was perceptive. Picked up on behaviors in others. Read them and their emotions. It was necessary in his job, and he was sure Soap probably picked up on his nervousness as well, as he was smart, even if he sometimes seemed a little air-headed and brash at times.

"No laughs from 'that person' today?" Soap feigned offense. Then they both realized. They were anxious from the lack of that person. “The voice”. They obviously didn't know who it was or their name, but everyone on the force knew who was being referred to when someone said 'that person' or “the voice”.

 It felt laughable that they were startled by some incorporeal voice not being there. If anything, they should be grateful they were spared its presence. Yet they weren’t. Ghost laid in his bed that night, sleepless, a common occurrence for him. But tonight instead of the nightmares that played when he closed his eyes, he just… contemplated. Brooding.

It was a few nights later when he came to terms with it. He knew some things were wrong with him, hell, most soldiers had something wrong with them if they worked as long as he did. But, he found himself.. weirdly fine with it. It seemed some of his teammates felt the same way as he did, and others did not. Soap made jokes out of it, unafraid around other Task Force members to refer to “the voice”, sometimes speaking directly at it, most of the time not getting much in terms of responses. There was only really one time he could make out something from “the voice” in response to one of Soap’s direct words towards it.

“That line… didn't play last time I played this one.”

It was probably one of the only things he could make the full sentence out of, and it seems everyone else on the team heard it fairly clearly as well. “...‘That line?’” Price repeated, quizzical. Referring to it like a game. 

“Must… Must be an easter egg.” A nervous laugh followed. 

The next time he found himself on a mission with that strange feeling, as if he weren’t himself, as if something else willed his way… There was almost complete silence. Unusual, a first for that sinking feeling to be there without any noise. He noticed after the missions were over that only when he had that uncomfortable feeling was "the voice" responsive. 

“Not talkative today?” He asked, not really to anything in particular and not expecting any sort of response. He could almost intuitively tell whatever “the voice” was, was there. He was again alone for this mission and that probably was what gave him the confidence to actually speak to it. He wasn’t worried about anyone hearing him and sounding crazy. And the response? Well, it was hard to hear, almost inaudible to him, but he heard a small gasp, and a shaky breath afterwards. 

…That was probably the first time the weird feeling left his body mid-mission. As if it was the one unsettled when every time it appeared, he and his teammates felt out of control, a passenger in their own body, hazed and moving as if puppets. Hearing a voice that lacked a body, floating around and seemingly coming from nowhere. It had no echo, no substance or matter, as if the sound didn't vibrate through the air.

And it was a while before he, or anyone, heard that lovely— 

…“The voice” again. He was careful not to directly reference it. Them.

Ghost thought about it some more, and found himself talking to Gaz one night at the pub, Soap hammered, currently in the bathroom while Price tried to help him to get stable enough to get to the rented car so the four of them could return to base. “Maybe Soap wasn’t too far off with the Matrix idea.” Gaz idly swirled his cup, almost devoid of liquid and only really clinking the ice in it around. He wasn’t really talking to Ghost in particular, more-so rambling to the air and himself due to him being tipsy.

Ghost leaned back in the booth, his mask barely lifted enough to allow him to drink a bourbon he’d been nursing half the night. Didn’t want a hangover the next day, he’d already be in a bad mood since he had recruits to train and they were often stupid and infuriating. “Yeah? How so?” 

Gaz, who seemed to not really mean anything when he initially spoke, sat up straighter, more zoned in on the conversation upon seeing his Lieutenant had taken an interest in what he was saying. “I was thinking about some of the things I’ve heard, that the others have heard, and just… the reactions in general. And that feeling… I don’t know if you get it but—”

“Like you’re possessed.” He interjected, knowing what he meant. Gaz’s eyes widened slightly. While they all knew about “the voice”, it seems none of them knew that weird feeling was shared. The feeling of being possessed, watched, almost like they were prey, not highly experienced military men capable of defending themselves and others. He nodded and drank the rest of his bourbon, setting it down on the table and looking back to Gaz, tucking his mask back down over his face.

“It’s just like… Like they’re playing a game. Controlling us. The reactions… It's like when you complete an objective or something. And it’d explain the feeling, like we’re controlled. Plus with how they reacted to Soap that one time, I could see it.”

“See it? The hell you seein’?” He didn't want to believe his life was a game. But Gaz made some good points. Ghost… No, Simon didn't play many games. He’d played a few party games with his team during off-time, Price convincing them that Mario-Kart was in fact a good team-bonding activity and absolutely necessary. But his off time wasn’t usually spent playing games, it just wasn’t something he could relax enough to do, never able to get calm enough to focus solely on said game.

“Imagine you’re playing a game—”

“Hard to imagine.” He barks, slightly sorry at the tone, though he wouldn’t correct himself.

Gaz sighs and continues. “Okay, imagine that it's team bonding night, and we’re playing Mario Party. Imagine everyone having a good time, laughing, chatting, playing the game, when Mario turns directly to the screen and acknowledges you. Like, unprompted, never happened before when you’ve played the game hundreds of times before? You’d probably be a little freaked out if you knew it wasn't the type of game to do something like that.”

Price interrupts, Soap slung over his shoulder and motions for them to head out to the car after he pays for the tab. Once everyone is in the car, Gaz continues.

“It’s just, the shit they said made me think about it. ‘That line’, ‘last time I played this one’, hell, them directly talking about us talking to them as an ‘easter egg’ makes it seem pretty clear to me.” Price glanced over, raising a brow at Gaz, who was sitting in the front passenger as He drove. Ghost was unfortunately stuck with a very clingy Soap in the back seat. “It’s clear whatever they were referencing is similar to a game, one they’ve played before. “

“You talking about ‘that person’? ‘The voice’?” Price sighs, slightly exasperated at the topic. He wasn’t quite convinced about "the voice" being real. He was still slightly in denial, but his slight intoxication must’ve allowed him to continue listening to the topic, not shutting down Gaz’s line of thought quite yet.

“You see what I mean though? If you were playing a game and the character you were playing just randomly acknowledges you out of nowhere, suddenly fucking sentient, you’d probably be scared shitless, especially if they’re a normal civilian.” Price hums, and Ghost blinks slowly, taking the information in and moving away from partaking in the conversation. The reaction was pretty akin to the one from when he was alone and spoke to “the voice”.

“Who’d wanna play a game involving the shite we do? We’re a bunch of soldiers doing unsavory work, I doubt that’s entertaining.” Price shakes his head, gripping the wheel a little tighter, his knuckles slightly turning white before he relaxes his hand with a sigh.

“Maybe not to us since it’s real-life. But think about it like this, a ton of people watch horror movies or slasher films. It’s not that they enjoy watching people die or get scared, but it’s like… an adrenaline thing. And you know when ‘that person’ appears most? On missions.”

This time, nobody responded. Gaz didn’t bother continuing either, already having made his point clear. An uncomfortable air settled in the car, not even forgotten the next day, even Soap somehow was capable of remembering the conversation despite the fact his head was reeling and his stomach turning in the backseat of the car.

This time they had settled on a theory.

[delzinrowe]

Nightmares - Choso x Reader

⠀⠀✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ ⠀⠀⠀It's all a nightmare, and you can't wake up.

WORD COUNT: ~2.4K WARNINGS: Angst, hurt, much needed comfort. F!Reader. SUMMARY: Y/N didn’t want to close her eyes. Closing them meant seeing those god awful images again. [Spoiler for Chapter 259!] A/N: This is for all my fellow Choso girlies. Chapter 259 never happened. Stay strong. Stay delulu.

↺ home⠀⠀|◁ masterlist⠀⠀II hc/brainrots⠀⠀▷| kofi⠀⠀♡

One moment.

That was all it took. Just one moment of carelessness. One brief second of Inattentiveness. In the short time Choso had he acted on instinct, ignoring his fear and putting others above him like many times before.

All Y/N could do was stand by and watch, frozen by shock and panic as she witnessed the flames lashing out. Although it happened in the blink of an eye she could have sworn time fate pressed the slow-motion button. There was nothing left she could do.

Tears started to spill from her eyes uncontrollably, they went unnoticed by her. But she could hear someone scream, a gut-wrenching screech, that she didn’t realize came from her own throat.

“Choso!”, it was all she could come up with, all that was in her mind. The image burnt into her mind, preparing to haunt her in every waking moment of her uncertain future.

Red hot flames blazed up high, threatening to set even the air surrounding her on fire. It was only then that she took in the smell of burnt flesh. If there had been time she might have paid attention to the nauseating feeling it caused as her stomach churned.

All too soon Choso had completely vanished, leaving behind not only his little brother Yuji but also Y/N with a heavy broken heart. Her mind blanked, nothing could have ever prepared her for this.

Life as a sorcerer was hard enough, and she knew that there was a possibility of dying every single day, especially with the odds stacked so high against them. Yet, it never occurred to her that she would lose him of all people, in such a cruel way no less.

Him, who she had been suspicious of from the beginning. Him, who she always had her watchful eye on whenever he was around the younger students. Him, who she looked at with less concern with each passing day once she allowed herself to get to know him. Him, who elicited chuckles and laughs from her even when he said something awkward or nonsensical. Him, who opened up more and more to her when he decided to fully embrace his human side. Him, who for some reason kept reaching out to her whenever he wanted to learn more about being human, despite having his little brother Yuji. Him, who slowly made his way into her heart more and more with each passing day. Him, who she was too afraid to confess to…

In an instant everything went dark. A screech rang in her ears for what felt like an eternity. Y/N jolted awake, beads of sweat having formed on her forehead. Her wide open eyes scanned the room, as her body fought to control her ragged breathing.

After a little while her vision accustomed to the darkness, making out the shapes of the furniture. If she hadn’t been so shaken up by the visuals still in her mind she might have felt embarrassed about how long it took her to realize she was in her own bedroom.

However, even in the supposed safety of her own quarters, Y/N couldn’t compose herself. Heavy tears spilled from her blood shot eyes. The smell of burnt flesh, the heat of the flames, even the sight of scorched earth kept replaying in her mind, tormenting her furthermore. Having these moments played out in her dreams repeatedly, being tormented by nightmares night after night… It felt like a cruel joke.

“Well, there’s no point in sleeping now…” A deep sigh followed her mumbled words. Talking to oneself was normal, right? Or maybe she was on the road to going insane. After eventually leaving her bed, she walked into the bathroom to splash her face with some cold water. It was meant to help her wake up faster from her sleepy state whenever she was faced with a nightmare, and with time it had become somewhat of a routine.

She didn’t even spare one glance at her reflection in the mirror. It would only show the same thing: blood shot eyes adorned with dark rings.

Her feet dragged her out of the room. Was it possible for a person to act on autopilot for days on end? If so, it was her recently. She couldn’t tell you at what point she put on her jacket or shoes, or when exactly she reached for her keys and headed out.

Darkness still swallowed most of the surroundings. The moon’s small scythe barely illuminated anything, but in all fairness it was all pretty much a haze and a blur to Y/N anyway.

How long had she been walking? It could have been anything between ten minutes and an hour. She wouldn’t even be able to tell anymore. Much like a zombie she simply kept walking where her feet took her, they had a mind of their own at this point.

She didn’t want to close her eyes. Closing them meant seeing those god awful images again. If only she tried hard enough maybe she could keep them open forever? What a miserable kind of wishful thinking.

Before she knew it she stood in front of a door, the heavy knocking of her own hand seemingly ripping her out of her own trance. Almost aggressively she banged her fist against the wood, only stopping once she heard the shuffling steps behind it.

“Y/N? Wh–” She wouldn’t even let him finish the question, which she knew would only have the same answer as the many times before. Instead she took a step forward and wrapped her arms around his torso, burying her face in his shirt. Once more tears spilled from her eyes, staining the oversized shirt she had her face pressed against.

“You dreamt of it again, didn’t you?” His question was met with a squeeze of her hold as she tried to tighten it more, desperately clinging to his frame as if her entire life depended on it.

“Choso…” The single word she uttered was muffled, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She knew he’d understand it no matter what, just like he understood that she needed his embrace now more than ever. Quiet sobs followed soon after. Were her eyes hurting from the lack of sleep or the many tears she had cried recently. Perhaps it was both.

“I’m right here.” Choso spoke in a tone that was far more gentle and soft than usual. A tone that was reserved solely for her. It had taken him a while to learn different human customs, yet he knew exactly what to do whenever she wanted to hug him. Thus he instantly reciprocated by wrapping his own strong arms around her.

Learning about human behavior, traditions and customs wasn’t difficult for him, especially when she taught him. He was quick to understand that sometimes emotions needed to flow freely and all he could do was to offer comfort in whichever form he could.

“I can’t lose you.” Y/N kept mumbling her words, almost as if she wasn’t aware that he could actually hear them. It was a moment of vulnerability. Raw and unfiltered. The bare emotion she emitted was heavy yet beautiful.

“You won’t.”

Through the tears she scoffed at his words, barely pushing her head off his chest to shake it in disagreement.

“You don’t know that.” Despite talking to him Y/N didn’t face him. Perhaps she was too afraid of what he might think of her tear stained features. As if he hadn’t seen her weep many times before.

“Look at me.” It was astounding how soft and gentle his tone could be, and if she hadn’t been too busy being plagued by negative emotions she would have praised him for his remarkable empathy towards human sentiments.

But she did as he asked, haltingly lifting her gaze up. One look into his eyes and she nearly forgot the horrifying images that had awoken her earlier this night. For a cursed spirit he sure was enchanting. His presence had an uncannily peaceful aura but no one except Y/N seemed to take notice of it.

Choso glanced at her, he took in every single nuance of those glossy eyes that had shown him compassion and kindness when others had been wary and cautious. He had always been a fast learner and had soaked up everything she taught him about human traditions and emotions like a sponge. He was no stranger to the feelings she stirred up inside him, and he was sure that he caused the same kind of feelings inside her. Or, at least he hoped for it.

He almost forgot that he wanted to speak, all because of the way she looked at him, as if he was her life line. If it had been anyone else the silence might have been eerily uncomfortable, however with her it was everything but.

“I won’t lose me. I wouldn’t leave you alone.” It was a subconscious instinct to pull her tighter against him. For a brief moment he swore he saw the faintest hint of a smile flash on her lips but all too soon she buried her face in his shirt once more. Her weight shifted to lean more against him, perhaps because she felt safe in his embrace. How ironic to show your most vulnerable side and feel safest in the arms of a dangerous cursed spirit who happened to be your former enemy. None of it mattered anymore.

“I should head hom–”

“No. You’ll stay here. There’s no chance I will let you go home so you can experience the same nightmare again.” He didn’t let Y/N finish her sentence, he wouldn’t let her argue over it. The woman knew him well enough to be aware of his subtle stubborn nature.

Unbeknownst to Choso, her lips curled into a soft smile when he interjected her words. The dreadful feeling in her gut dissipated, making space for a happier sensation. She couldn’t explain their friendship properly. With the way the two behaved when they were alone she knew fully well that there was more between them, but speaking about it might disrupt what they had now. For the time being she was happy with how things were. Even if she knew that she should tell him about her feelings before it was too late. She couldn’t bear the thought of her nightmare turning into reality.

Minutes passed as the two still stood in the hallway, and neither of them said anything, simply letting the comfortable silence linger between them. Choso wasn’t sure how much time really passed, not that he actually cared about it. The only thing he cared about was getting Y/N into bed and making sure she could rest peacefully. Only when he heard her yawn against his chest did he decide to break the silence.

“You need to rest.” Admittedly, it was an obvious observation, but in his defense Choso wasn’t sure how to tell Y/N that she needed to sleep, and that he wouldn’t let her leave without at least a couple of hours of proper sleep.

“No, I just need you.” The female sorcerer slurred her words, it seemed quite evident that exhaustion was taking over her. Although she did fight against the oncoming sleep, it was futile. His warm embrace, paired with the way he gently reassured her lulled her into a feeling of safety.

The beating heart in his chest surely exposed his feelings, with her ear being so close to it he was convinced she’d hear it as clear as his voice.

“I’m here, and I’ll always be.” With more and more of her weight leaning into him he couldn’t drag her to the bed on her feet. Further exhausting her or risking her stumbling over her feet was the last thing he wanted.

Despite feeling uncertain of how to proceed, Choso knew he had to get her to bed. His only logical option was to carry her. He didn’t waste any time in picking up the young woman by hooking his arm underneath her knees and pulling her up to his chest. Instinctively Y/N’s head dropped onto his shoulder. The view of her like this nearly made the black haired’s knees give out. How he wished that he could simply tell her what he felt, but now wasn’t the right time. For now he needed to get her to bed and let her sleep without any disruptions.

Which is exactly what he did. Without further delay he carried her into his bedroom, as if she didn’t weigh anything to him at all. No thought went to it, it came easy to him as his physical strength was immaculate. However, once he stood in front of his bed he couldn’t find it in himself to set her down. An intense urge to keep holding her, to protect her and shield her overcame him.

“You’ll stay, right?” Y/N’s quiet words surprised him. Her closed eyes deceived him to think she had already been asleep, which made hearing her voice now unexpected.

“I’ll stay, of course.” Not a moment of hesitation as he reassured her. Nothing could have made Choso leave her side, especially not now. Eventually he gently placed her on the mattress, careful not to cause her any discomfort. Instead of taking his leave he kept his word and stayed with her, laying down next to her with his arms wrapped around her frame.

“Don’t leave, you promise…?” A smile tugged on the corner of the curse’s lips at just how exhausted and sleepy she sounded when she spoke. She fought hard to stay awake long enough to hear his reply. Although her efforts were in vain, before he could reply, sleep took a hold of her and engulfed her in darkness, albeit a soft and warm kind of darkness.

“I’ll never leave.” Meanwhile he struggled to fight his own urge. The urge to hold her tighter and kiss her forehead.

“I promise.”

Screw it. The urges won him over as Choso leaned closer to Y/N. Tenderly he pressed a kiss onto her forehead, which conveyed more emotions than any words he had ever spoken to her. Maybe he was a coward for not telling her about his feelings, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t know exactly what kind of shared love the two had developed even without verbally expressing it.

Choso glanced at her once more, taking in her still features and how her chest rose and set in a steady rhythm. How come this woman had so easily found her way into his heart? 

Some day he would tell her. Some day she would respond that she reciprocated his feelings. Some day. But until then he’d be by her side even without words to speak.

[7brownsuga7]

The God who answers after dark ☆

One - Remember:

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Summary: Time has slipped through your fingers since that last encounter with him—the one where he showed you a side of intimacy you hadn’t known before. His touch lingered long after he left, a haunting reminder of what it felt like to be close to someone in ways you couldn’t fully comprehend. You’ve tried to push it all aside, to erase the memory, but the ache of his absence runs deeper than you expected. Forgetting, you realize, only sharpens the memory, bringing it back with an intensity that leaves you torn between longing and pain. Every attempt to move on is met with flashes of that night, where your body remembered even when your mind resisted. The confusion wraps itself around you, a constant reminder of the vulnerability he exposed in you. You want to let it go, to find peace in his departure, but the harder you try to forget, the more vividly it returns. Remembering, it seems, is a cruel paradox—you cannot forget without confronting everything that you wish you could erase.

Tags&warnings: Jungkookxfemreader, fluff and a bit of smut if you would call it that?!?? Jungkook is obsessed with reader, a bit delusional. Flashbacks, descriptions of penetration. MDNI!!!

Word count: 2k+

Note: took me forever to post this, my bad lol I was procrastinating. Doesn’t have that much smut because idk I’m genuinely tired LOOL? I’m more for fluff nowadays.

Comment to be added to tag list

Tag list: @rutukn

The God who answers after dark ☆ series master list: Here ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

You found yourself waiting for the darkness.

Unsure of which one.

The one that lulls you towards a dreamfell night. Where you feel the most comfortable as the stars and moon shine through your window. Where you feel as if it’s just you, the world so still, so silent.

Or the one that races through your mind like water down/through a stream. That reminds you of the night itself. Everywhere you went he was there. You could feel him all around you just like the night you shared together.

He was in the air embracing you

He was the moon constantly changing, revealing different phases of himself with every passing day. He was the odd comfort you felt when you were out amongst the dark sky.

He was the darkness

You missed both.

Falling asleep before the night even came. And too stubborn to call out his name.

A name that you gave him once when you were younger, that he held onto years past that.

The night was as warm as his touch on you that night. The wind gentle like his hold on you. The breeze caressing your skin like how he did, so effortlessly, it felt right.

You’d never admit you was waiting for a particular presence, as much as you loved the night itself , you’ve grown accustomed to something more greater than that.

And even though you could still talk to the wind and the trees like you used to when you were young, it’s not the same as hearing his alluring voice sink into you.

You waited for him to come. Even though you were avoiding him, you hoped he wasn’t avoiding you.

You wonder if he never came because you never called for him. Or maybe because you’re just another human in his little game.

So you laid there reminiscing. Other times trying to forget. And even trying to keep those memories forever, as you wrote them in your diary.

And when day came you missed his presence, even though he still lingered around. The sun kissing your skin like how his soft lips once did.

You were angry because everything reminded you of him. You couldn’t escape him even if you tried.

So you tried to forget about that night. About him. You decided to forget it and only remember what life was like before.

But what was life like before?

He’s been around for most of it.

You aimed to distract yourself with any possible thing.

But how could you when you can still feel his touch lingering on your skin. Like a stubborn burn that stings and leaves a faint scar.

Before how he made you feel. Before you knew what a man’s touch felt like, what his touch felt like. Having him on you, all around you, inside you.

But he’s not a man…

He’s a thing, something so much greater than what you’ve imagined him to be. And that’s what you try to remind yourself, despite you trying to forget him as a whole.

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It was day again.

You’ve forgotten what night feels like. What it looks like. You miss watching the stars decorate the dark sky. You miss hearing the creatures of the night come out. You miss him… and you miss the quietness the night brought.

The quietness you wish you heard right now as you walk across the busy campus.

Your thoughts run wild, familiar and unfamiliar faces cross your path as you try to reach your destination.

You’re sure you’re loosing it when you feel a familiar presence walk beside you, and feel the familiar chill run down your spine when he says, “Out of all the humans I’ve come across, I always manage to find myself drawn back to you”

You look beside you, once a space of nothing but air now filled with none other than himself.

You’ve been avoiding him as much as you can since the last time you both saw each other. Since you last let him see you in a more vulnerable light.

You didn’t know how to deal with the situation, so you did what you did best and that was avoid.

“You’re not drawn back to me, you simply chose to be here. You can be anywhere in the world and you choose to be on a campus with me” you mutter bitterly.

“Your tone is distasteful y/n. Nothing like how sweet you sounded when you were calling for me”

You pause, stopping in your tracks when you catch the smirk on his face.

“We said we won’t speak about it”

“You said my love. I only make deals, not promises”

Not wanting to feed in to whatever he’s doing, you continue to walk. Not caring if he follows you or not. Still, you ignore the way you feel when you notice him swiftly make his way back beside you.

Time passes.

Just the sound of endless chatter between the people making their daily route, and the faint sound of cars passing by lingers between you two.

It’s nice. It’s not awkward like you had imagined. Tense yes, but when was there ever not tension between you two? It was just right. Like it had been before you both crossed that deadly line. The line you both saw but had never spoke about. The line you had always been curious about, whether you should cross it or not, or let it be just a mere thought you had that you tried to shove to the back of your mind, but would always make itself known whenever you laid in bed thinking of how it must feel to be touched.

“Do you know you’re the only person that’s ever given me a name?”

You peer at him, waiting for him to continue. Your eyes curious as you study the side of his face, wondering why he decided to say that.

His face carved and structured by none other than yourself, yet you always seem so surprised whenever you see him. So in awe at how one’s mind can create such a beautiful thing.

He continues, “I told you before that we don’t get given names, our only identity is the thing we are, the thing we own. For me it’s darkness. I used to love it, it held so much power. It made me feel like I was worth something. Not until you decided to call me-“

“Kook” you say. The name you gave him as a child feeling foreign on your lips. You hadn’t called him that in a long time, deciding to leave that name in the past.

“Kookie” he corrects.

“Hm, well I think you’ve grown out of that now” your tone holds the same bitterness as you continue walking the route to your class.

“I was waiting for you to call on me” his words linger in the air like the aroma of a freshly cooked dinner - warm, inviting, and comforting, making you feel instantly at home .

You’re not sure if you sense a hint of vulnerability hidden within his words. His words seeming more cautious as he continues, “I dont see you staying up anymore. You used to be perched by your bedroom window watching the sky, diary in your hand. Why not now?”

You ignore him choosing not to give him the satisfaction of hearing the truth.

You’ll ever admit that your favourite time of the day is night. That you feel less lonely during that time, less worried and less afraid. You’ll never admit that you look forward to a certain presence that accompanies you during that time.

You’ll never.

Even if he may already know, he’s a god after all.

“Why didn’t you call for me?” His hand catches yours, pulling you to a stop. His eyes are dark, waiting for you to answer him. They mimic the stars. It’s like you’re looking into a galaxy, his eyes holding so many unanswered questions, so many wishes and dreams. You feel yourself falling, falling in everything that is him.

Everything around you turns into night. You feel like you’re stepping on clouds as you get caught up in this little world. Just you and him.

“Why didn’t you call for me?” He asks again and you know it kills him to do that. Pride being one of his main traits.

There’s no escaping this. He’s trapped you.

There was only one other time he’s done this, created a space just for you and him, it’s when you were younger, he took your hand and brought you to this same place, the darkness. It was a way for you to escape your life for a while. He did it without a thought after seeing you cry to him, the hurt in you voice doing something to him that he’s never experienced before. That he’s sure only humans feel.

And now you’re here again, his whole presence surrounding you as his question lingers in the dark.

“Why did you leave?” You retort.

The corner of his mouth twitches, it’s typical of you to brush off his questions.

“That’s who I am. That’s what I do. I come and go. I’m not a constant, I obscure”.

You let his words sit with you, suffocate you, until they seep into your thoughts, twisting your perception, weighing you down with a heaviness you can’t shake.

You don’t blink when you say, “I didn’t call for you because just like you said, You come and go, you obscure. I needed clarity, not shadows” your voice comes out fainter than you had hoped.

You force yourself to look him in the eyes, the deep abyss of what you found yourself always looking forward to see. You didn’t think it was possible for them to darken, but they do, as well as everything around you.

“And yet you still seek those shadows. I know you look for me whenever you see them” his hand delicately brushes against your cheekbone, slowly making its way to caress your jaw. “My dear y/n, you fail to realise sometimes clarity isn’t always what you need. It’s the shadows that show you what’s truly there, hidden beneath the light.”

With his touch still on you, he leans in and whispers, “you seem to have forgotten, let me remind you”

And just like that memories of any intimate moment you both shared flashes around you, flooding your mind, surrounding you in a whirlwind of forgotten warmth. But was it really forgotten?

As the memories flood in, suddenly you're enveloped in the darkness of your room. The air between you crackles with unspoken longing. The world outside ceasing to exist as your eyes meet for a moment.

You blink as another memory hits. You reaching out fingers trailing lightly along the curve of his jaw, feeling the coolness of his skin under your touch. The darkness around you stills as his breath catches while he gently cups your face, his thumb brushes against your cheek with a tenderness that speaks volumes. The space between you two tightens, your breaths mingling as his lips brush yours, forming into a kiss that is soft and reassuring, filled with a promise of deeper want, need.

“Do you remember my love?”

How could you forget? The way your kisses deepened as you pulled him closer to you with your fingers threaded through his hair. The way your pussy would throb just from his mere presence alone. The way his fingers worked on your body, playing you like one of his instruments you know he loves.

He knew your body so well, even when you were still trying to figure it out yourself.

A flashback runs through your mind every few seconds. Filled with images and feelings of what was and what could have been.

His cock slowly fills you, stretching you, every inch making you feel how tightly your body grips him. He's the only one who's ever had you like this, the only one to feel your warmth, to claim every inch of you. You were so wet and ready. Your moans mix with his, rising together in a rhythm, a breathless symphony that fills the space between you. Each thrust draws out another note, a melody of shared pleasure, building in intensity as your bodies move in perfect harmony.

His scent surrounds you, rich and earthy, intoxicating in its rawness. He's everywhere— inside you, around you, filling every inch of your senses. His touch is light, almost ghostly, yet it leaves a trail of heat in its wake, making your skin tingle with anticipation. It's as if even the air between you hums with his presence, leaving you craving more.

You shiver, not from the cold but from the intensity of his gaze as his eyes roamed over you, drinking you in. His fingers brushing along your exposed skin. You remember the way your breath hitched when his mouth followed, hot and wet against your skin, his tongue flicking over your nipple in a way that made your back arch, pushing you closer to him.

His other hand, still on your waist, gripped you tighter, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you.

The feel of his cool, bare skin against yours was intoxicating, sending a wave of chills coursing through your body. Each slow, agonizing stroke made your breath hitch, your pulse quicken. Every touch, every movement, was a reminder of how deeply he held you captive-body, mind, and soul. His hands explored with deliberate slowness, as if he had all the time in the world, drawing out every sensation, every shiver. You could feel the weight of each moment, the way it lingered between you, an unspoken intensity building with each soft caress, until nothing else existed but the raw, electric connection.

Everything comes to a stop and you find your self short of breath, just like you were that night.

Your mind is a whirlwind, unable to distinguish between what's real and what's imagined. Between what you’ve lived and what you ache to relive. He’s left you tangled in confusion, unraveling every certainty you once had. He hasn’t just unsettled you—he’s undone you entirely. He’s confused you, he’s ruined you.

When you escape the chaos of your mind, seeking the comfort of his familiar eyes, you're pulled back to that night you shared—only to be left alone once more.

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The God who answers after dark ☆

- mimi ☆

[shuenkio]

Your curiously | 🧸

Paring: Sunoo x male!reader

Genre: fluff, crack

Cw: small dirty talk, mentioned of dick, naked.

Summary: He finally stepped out of his Fluttershy era.

Non proof read ರ⁠_⁠ರ

Crd to all dividers.

You are one of the members of ENHYPEN, and as a foreigner, you have a special bond with your fellow group members. Despite not having as much interaction with some of them at times, you share an unbreakable connection that only comes from years of bonding together. Just a glance is enough for them to understand your thoughts and feelings, showcasing the deep trust and friendship that has formed over time.

Late in the night on Monday, you return to the dorm after a busy day of promoting your latest comeback. Everyone else has already gone to sleep, leaving you alone in the dimly lit hallway, illuminated only by the overhead lamp. You're barely able to see as you take off your shoes near the doorway, believing that you're the only one awake at that moment. However, as you enter the kitchen to grab a glass of water, you discover Sunoo sitting there, quietly enjoying some mint chocolate ice cream.

As you reach into the fridge to get a glass of water, you are startled by the sight of Sunoo suddenly appearing beside you. Your heart skips a beat as you feel it racing in your chest from the sudden scare. The unexpected encounter brings a rush of emotions and adrenaline, leaving you feeling both surprised and amused.

In a moment of shock, you yell out in surprise, the sound echoing through the dorm. Sunoo quickly hushes you, worried about waking the other members, before leading you to the living room and seating you on the couch with a gentle nudge. As he covers your mouth to keep the noise down, your racing heartbeat and trembling nerves gradually begin to calm down, leaving you both in a more relaxed atmosphere as you sit together.

Recovering from the initial shock, you take a few deep breaths to calm down. You remark to Sunoo,

"I thought you were asleep hyung!" You said. Sunoo replies with a smile, scooping another spoonful of ice cream and savoring it with a satisfied expression.

"I actually waiting for you" As he enjoys the mint chocolate ice cream, you can't help but feel touched and suspicious at the same time.

You call him on his bluff, sensing he's not telling the truth. you suggest that he must have lost a dare or something. Sunoo laughs and admits that it's not entirely a lie, revealing that Jungwon had asked him to wait for you. He chuckles before explaining that Jungwon knows how easily you get lost at night.

You defensively protest, denying Jungwon's claim that you get lost at night. Sunoo continues to poke fun at you, holding up a remote and asking you what he's holding. You respond confidently, saying it's a remote. Sunoo bursts out laughing, revealing that he was actually holding your phone. He teases you for not recognizing it, making a lighthearted joke about your tendency to lose track of things at night.

You're left stunned, realizing you've guessed wrong and shouted the answer with confidence. A sense of embarrassment floods over you as you turn away to hide your flushed cheeks. Sunoo suggests taking a shower together, claiming he sweat a lot while waiting for you. Despite feeling offended, the thought of showering with him eases your embarrassment, and you agree reluctantly, finding comfort in his company. The two of you make your way to the bathroom, ready to wash away the worries and fears together.

After years of spending time together, the members have grown accustomed to seeing each other scantily clothes.Yet, despite your closeness to Sunoo, you've never seen him fully naked, which sparks your curiosity. When he proposes showering together, you can't help but wonder what it would be like to see him without any clothing on. Although you're used to other members' naked bodies, the thought of seeing Sunoo fully exposed brings up a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

As you begin to take off your clothes, a mix of curiosity and excitement washes over you.

"Are you sure? You're not Fluttershy now?"

"Come on trust me~ I'm serious this time"

You mention that Sunoo has never showered naked with the rest of the group, and he responds confidently suggesting that it's time for him to shed his shyness and innocence. Doubting his sincerity, you playfully assert that he probably always showers with a towel. Sunoo attempts to convince you otherwise, insisting that you trust him. Sunoo surprises you as he begins to undress, unbuttoning his shirt and discarding it before removing his pants and underwear. The sight of him naked leaves you stunned and intrigued.

You stand frozen in surprise, your jaw dropping as Sunoo fully exposes himself. His pale pink skin appears even more flawless, and the sight of his pink-tinted dick leaves you awestruck. You can't believe that he has exposed himself so boldly, and you question if you're dreaming. Sunoo's perfect body makes you wonder how someone could be so flawless, and you struggle to find the words to express your admiration and awe.

As you stand there, marveling at his gorgeous nakedness, his shy comments about his member catch your attention.

"Is there something wrong mn? I know I'm not a competition with the other in this category size"

Sunoo speak as you assure him that nothing is wrong, but can't help but to admire his unique shape and size. His balls is shape circle that clutch together like it was winter season, which draw him even more adorable.

"I wonder how the hell you hide your bulge so well? I've seen all the members fancam and they're all had bulge poking but you? Hyung have nothing" you asked, curious about how he manages to adjust so well during the performance.

"I already told you that, you should wear dancer thong, it's keep your dick steady but you didn't" he huff, acting upset at your question as he fold his hand over his chest.

"Who know that thing could make such magic tskk I'll wear one tomorrow then"

"You better be lol-" Both of you laugh it off together, enjoy the conversation. Despite your curiosity and eagerness to learn more, Sunoo changing the topic and suggesting that you both get in the shower to wash up for tomorrow's schedule.

"Let's measure size i swear it's the last time!!" You said with your full chest, unable to process further as you hungry for more dirty talk.

"Now i believe what jungwon said, not only mn is lost but also wild at night aigoo—"

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️repost because the tag is not working.

[REQUEST STILL OPEN]

[rus-vy]

Mephisto x Reader

A short oneshot I wrote a while back for fun so I thought I'd make this my first post on here! Please enjoy ♡

Warnings! Mainly fluff but slightly suggestive at the end, Use of the word ‘ass’, Gn! Reader, Mephisto being a mischievous little prick

(Word count: 441)

“ Mepphy…? ” My eyes flutter open from the deep slumber I was just waken from. The rustling of the bedsheets had pulled me from my sleep, eyes instinctively landing on that of my beloved, currently making himself comfortable under the blankets next to me.

His eyes gazed down at me from his upright position, a small smile present on his features before he moved his head down towards mine, gently pressing a chaste kiss to my sweet lips, “ I didn't mean to wake you, Mein Liebling. Please, go back to sleep. ”

His hand softly caresses my face, long sharp nails grazing over the skin of my cheek before retracting back to his side, my voice once again breaking through the comfortable silence, “ What time is it, my dear? ”

The shuffling of the bedsheets continued as he made himself fully comfortable under the covers, “ I believe it's just a little after 3, ” he responded, pulling me closer by the waist as our bodies now pressed up against each other.

“ Mmh… You always leave it so late.. ” My head found itself comfortable in the crook of his neck as I mumbled, bringing us closer together as his rested comfortably against mine.

Our breaths combined as we lay there together in each other’s arms, a feeling I had much missed after a long day even if it was only for an hour. However, as we continued to lay there in silence, something started to bother me.

“ Mephisto… ” My voice was a soft, sleepy whisper, my head remained unmoving from its rather comfortable position against his neck, the slight warmth of his body radiating onto mine.

His hand gently caressed my hair, lips pressing a sweet kiss to the top of my head, “ Yes, Mein Liebling? ” My scent filled his lungs from the proximity of the two of us, calming his senses and coaxing him closer towards the inevitable.

“ Can you please stop squeezing my ass? ”

Silence filled the room, the feeling of his hand against my backside becoming more and more irritating by the second. With a mischievous chuckle, he stops, his hand returning to my waist where it then stayed.

“ Apologies, my dear. Your body just always seems to have its way of tempting me, ” he teases, voice turned slightly deeper as a way of coaxing me closer towards him, his head now rested comfortably against the crook of my neck, just as mine had been.

Early mornings like these were something I had slowly grown accustomed to, reminding me of the special relationship we shared even if I did find him mildly irritating at times, so was the life of being married to the King of Time.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

“Beata Maria.”

What a wonderful blessing upon this hopelessly sinful world.

... What's this?

A gathering of powerful and prideful individuals can only spell trouble.

Sitting at a table, surrounded by them, exerted an immense pressure upon the room. The air seemed to thin, made icy and oppressive by those in attendance, representatives of their own domains. The dorm leaders were like kings perched upon their thrones, prepared to cross words or swords at a moment's notice. (For what it was worth, at least Kalim was a spot of sunshine in the otherwise strained space.)

Raven had been scribing for these occasions for months now, and still hadn't become fully accustomed to the atmosphere. Inevitably, some petty squabble, underhanded comment, or personal vendetta would disrupt the proceedings. If they were lucky, they'd escape with just some unresolved tension in the air. She took care to leave those instances out of the meeting notes.

Today, the attention was directed toward the front of the room. The headmaster consulted a packet as he crowed on.

“The final topic on our agenda is... Next week, we will be hosting an important guest from Noble Bell College to discuss future joint events. As a show of good will, I would like their representative to be granted a tour of our campus. This tour guide will then also serve as their chaperone for the duration of our guest's stay to ensure that they are comfortable and that all of their questions are promptly answered."

A hand shot up automatically.

"Yes, Rosehearts-kun?"

"If that is the case, sir, then I believe it would be wise for you to serve as this tour guide," the redhead suggested. "You are knowledgeable about our school's history, layout, staff, and curriculum. Therefore, you easily fulfill your own requirements."

There was a round of murmurs and nods from around the table.

"No, no!" Crowley insisted with the shake of his head. "I have many other duties to tend to as headmaster! What's more, it would be more fitting that someone on our guest's level—a fellow student—be the guide! This will better bolster a sense of camaraderie between the student bodies of our schools!"

... In other words, you don't wish to do the work yourself, Raven sighed, already having seen through her guardian's excuses. From the grimaces on everyone else's face, she deduced that they, too, had suspected as much.

Azul laced his fingers together and surveyed the room. "Well then, do we have any volunteers from amongst ourselves?"

"Pass." Leona leaned back in his chair with a grimace. "I'm not up for kissing ass."

"May I take that to mean that you are avaliable, Leona-san?" Azul pressed, still smiling.

"I said, pass," he snarled. "Don't make me repeat myself again."

"... Point taken. Anyone else?"

"I would offer, but... There is an unbirthday party scheduled the day of their arrival. I don't believe I would be able to fully commit myself to chaperoning our guest," Riddle confessed. "I cannot override the rules written by the Queen of Hearts."

"I, as well, am preoccupied. I'm to shoot for a magazine spread after class," Vil added, tucking a finger under his chin. "What about you, Azul? This is a prime opportunity to... as Leona so crudely put it, curry favor with another school of magic. I can't imagine that you wouldn't immediately jump at the chance."

"My, to think that my upperclassmen think so little of my intentions..." Azul sniffled dramatically—an innocent act. "Unfortunately, I have a prior arrangement to oversee at the Mostro Lounge during the visiting period. I would otherwise happily accept this honor!"

"Of course you would," Riddle and Vil said at once.

"Hey, hey, guys! It's no problem! I can show them around! I've done it plenty for our guests back home," Kalim chirped, leaping out of his seat.

"Can Jamil-san confirm that your schedule is clear?" Azul inquired, eyebrow quirked. "It would be a stain upon my... excuse me, I mean Night Raven College's reputation if we were unable to safely secure this relationship."

"Huh? Well, sure I can ask him."

Kalim produced a phone dressed up in a gold case studded with gemstones. He typed up a text message, and received a reply just as fast. His face slowly fell. "Uh-oh, uh..."

"Yes?" Azul prompted.

"Jamil says it's a no-go. He has to tutor me for a big midterm exam on Monday..." Kalim quickly perked up again. "But it's okay! We still have Idia, right?"

"L-Leave me out of this!!" came Idia's stuttering voice from a floating tablet. "I-I didn't ask to pick up a side quest that no one else wants to fulfill! I want nothing to do with this, do you hear me?!"

"Hah!" Leona let out a sharp bark of laughter. "You think that wimpy daikon radish sprout can keep himself together long enough to entertain an esteemed guest?"

"I-It's true!" Idia agreed. "I-I spend most of my time trapped inside my room! I've barely stepped outside to see the light of day or the campus for myself! I'm super anti-social and hate irl people!! Th-There's no way I can socialize or give a halfway decent tour!!"

"Willfully talking yourself down to that extent... Have you no dignity left?" Vil groaned. "Safe to say, we cannot rely on a man with no confidence for a matter as important as this."

"Then all that's left is..."

Everyone's eyes collectively drifted to the seventh and unoccupied dorm leader seat at the table.

"Great. It's decided, then. It'll be the lizard's gig," Leona smirked, seemingly satisfied with the outcome.

"Is it really okay to make the decision without Malleus here?" Kalim asked—the only one truly concerned about him.

"No, this is unacceptable," Riddle pointed out. "There tends to be miscommunication when information is relayed to Malleus. We cannot afford such mistakes if we wish to forge a healthy, sustainable relationship with Noble Bell College. We must entrust this task to an individual who is punctual, polite, welcoming, detail-oriented, and an eloquent speaker."

In this pool of candidates? Good luck with that. Raven scrawled down Riddle's last remarks, dotting the period with pessimism.

"Oh dear, oh dear," Crowley fretted to himself. "What to do? We've already run through you boys and no one is quite free or suitable for the role..."

"What if we were to put out a call to action, headmaster?" Raven offered, glancing up from her parchment. "I know that our students aren't the most open to extending their hands, but perhaps someone will volunteer for the task if you offer some kind of compensation."

"Oogh... The compensation would have to be fairly generous to spark interest and enthusiasm this close to the visit..." Crowley lamented. "Woe is me!! Wherever can I find such a magnanimous individual on such short notice?!"

"There, there. It will sort itself out, you'll see." Raven smiled sympathetically and patted her uncle on the back. "If you'd like, I can get started by drafting the document for your approval."

"My, how very kind of you, my dear!! That's what I like to hear!! Where would we be without your astute…”

The headmaster's gushing suddenly quieted, his once-panicked expression settling into thoughtfulness. Crowley's beady, golden gaze bore right into his child.

"... Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I think," Crowley said slowly, "we've found the answer to our prayers. The perfect person for the job, in fact!"

"... You have?"

"Dear, sweet Raven-kun," Crowley drawled in a singsong, "my adorable niece, apple of my eye, sweetest of songbirds—”

A smile grew on the headmaster's lips. Heat from all corners of the meeting room concentrated on her. Collective realization.

Raven puffed with indignation. "You are NOT seriously suggesting what I think you're suggesting, Uncle!! I'm here to keep records, not to fill in for the duties of the dorm leaders!”

"Yet you've been present for all of our meetings, Raven-san," Azul cooed. "You are privy to all the same information that we are, and have already proven yourself to be reliable when it comes to your work. I also understand that you're quite the student among the first years."

"Where did you hear that from?!"

"I have my sources." Azul raised his voice to address the other dorm leaders. "Gentlemen, don't you agree that Raven-san would be a most wonderful choice for the task at hand?"

"Heh, so this is where we're going with this?" A dry chuckle escaped Leona. "Fine by me."

"She would be our best option," Vil added. "Her manners are passable. She presents herself well enough."

"A-As long as it's not me! I'm up for anyone else!!"

"Azul..." Riddle frowned disapprovingly. "While I can't say I condone your methods, it seems we're left with little choice in this matter."

"Gosh, it's so nice of you to step up for us, Raven!" Kalim graciously beamed.

"W-Wait just a second here! I haven't agreed to anything yet!! Don’t I get a say in this?!” Raven protested, abruptly rising. She shuddered upon feeling a clawed hand clap her back.

“Our hopes are riding on you, Raven-kun!!” Crowley cheerily declared. “Go out there and make our Night Raven College look good!!”

"I'm so glad we came to an agreement." Azul's lip curled back into a triumphant smirk. "May I be the first to offer my congratulations? Ah, and I think I speak for all of us when I say... best of luck with handling our special guest."

"Wow, that's amazing, Raven!! Congratulations!!" Kalim squealed, his eyes sparkling with genuine joy.

"Yeah, congrats," Leona yawned. "Knock'm dead, canary."

"Congratulations, potato. Be on your best behavior now."

"Raven, congratulations. I expect you to perform well, or it's off with your head. Is that understood?"

"Congrats, LMAO. Sux 2 b u rn. GL, hf, don't die!!"

It felt as though the room was shrinking in on her, blocking off all exits and routes of escape. A circle of arbiters, already having settled the raven's fate long ago. Her left eye twitched.

"I can see that none of you are willing to let me worm my way out of this," she said warily. "Absolutely awful, all of you..."

"Why, that's exactly what makes you the ideal person for the job, my dear niece!" Crowley aggressively ruffled Raven's hair, making it stick up like feathers plugged into an electrical socket. "It's your kindness and willingness to help those in need. You must have gotten it from me, fufu!"

"Highly doubtful. I almost feel sorry for the poor, unfortunate soul being sent here... He has no idea what's in store for him."

Crowley blinked. "Oh, did I fail to tell you all? The student representative from Noble Bell College is..."

Night had descended upon Night Raven College. Darkness heralded twinkling stars, shadows, and secrets hidden in its depths. This was the height of mystique—and he, mystique manifest, walked along that darkness, finding comfort in it.

"... So this is where you were. I knew I’d find you out and wandering about again.”

Malleus turned.

A short figure had appeared behind him, the jacket hanging off of his shoulders flapping in a steady breeze. In the dark, his eyes were bright rubies—striking against the lucid, opal moonlight. He smiled, displaying fangs.

"Lilia."

He skipped to Malleus’s side. "Didn’t you have a dorm leader meeting to attend?"

The prince’s brow furrowed. "Is that today?"

"It was today," Lilia gently corrected him. “Well, it's long since over.”

A frown formed. “That is... rather unfortunate. I had been looking forward to the discussing how to best demonstrate our hospitality to the student from beyond Sage's Island."

“Chin up, Malleus!" Lilia reached into his back pocket and produced a scroll tied with a midnight blue ribbon. “I have the meeting notes passed along from the headmaster’s child—you remember the little raven, don't you? With this, you’ll be able to get up to speed on the discussion in no time."

“The raven? Yes, that would be the young Crowley you speak of. I shall have to express my gratitude to her at a later time. It is in part through these records that I remain informed in spite of my absences."

Malleus accepted the paper from his vice dorm leader, tugging the ribbon and letting the page unfurl. He immediately began poring over its contents, a finger following each line of text he took in. A review of the quarterly budget, consideration for expanding the cafeteria menu to include more vegetarian options, important upcoming events...

“Shall we make her an honorary knight for all her troubles? Send a thank-you card? Invite her to tea?”

“We are nowhere that friendly. Merely acquaintances.”

“That’s too bad. She seems like an sharp girl. A little high-strung, but nice.” Lilia curiously rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “You, Sebek, and Silver attended that masquerade in the City of Flowers together, didn’t you? I imagine you’re already thick as thieves. How good for you all! I wish I had been there too.”

Malleus’s lip curled at the mention of the masquerade. “A great many things happened then. I was certainly taken aback by the young Crowey’s conviction when she was faced with grave danger.”

… That danger had been himself.

A memory flashed through his mind—four figures, clustered around a book. The distressed cries of a raven calling out, and the cold, steely roar of the dragon that countered it.

“We must stop him from tainting his own soul. We must!!“

“Rest assured, we will stop him. When the time comes for me to exact my revenge... Pray that you do not stand between myself and Flamme. I cannot guarantee your safety if you were to get caught in the crossfires.”

“But he’s…!!”

“Suffering? He has deceived me and threatened the safety of my people. They will suffer too if he is not stopped. His is a story that will end in fire. There can be no other ending. If it comes down to life or death, I will do what I must to secure Briar Valley’s future.”

“It won’t come to that, it can’t! I…! I won’t let that happen! A-Absolutely not, even if it’s Malleus-senpai…!”

“You would grant your enemies clemency? Then you are a fool.”

“I-I believe… everyone deserves a second shot at their happily ever after!! S-So even if I’m scared and want to run away… e-even though I know I can’t beat you in a fight… I’m a fool who wants to defend that belief until the bitter end!!”

"My, so she’s fiery one! I’ve yet to see many defiant enough to stand against you. It’s a good thing you didn’t flambé her.”

“She looked as though she was going to pass out from fright.”

“Even better!!” Lilia clapped his hands in delight. "Ooh, I’d love for you to have such an amusing friend.”

Malleus was nearly done with the notes now. As he neared the end of the paper, the subject shifted to that of a special guest. The odd raven, that guest’s guide and attendant.

He stopped, his finger hovering over the final bullet point on the page.

"What's this? The visiting student will be from Noble Bell College... and his identity…” The prince fell silent. Seriousness had seized control of his features.

“Malleus…? What’s wrong?”

Lilia looked over in concern. What he found was a dark, mischievous smile slowly spreading across Malleus’s face. For a brief moment, he felt as though he had just stared into an abyss—and the abyss had stared back in all of its wickedness.

“Fufufu… Now this will certainly be fun."

[black-is-iconic]

Midnight Lovers

Chapter one : Unspoken Desires

A loud thwack echoed through the air and suddenly your surroundings were shifted, now standing in what looked looked like a blue tinted room, although it could hardly be describe as such, in fact it almost looked like you were still inside the forest, only more…beautiful. It was like a room had merged with nature and taken on a blue tint, it had no discernable boundaries just endless forest and beautifully sculpted furniture scattered about. the floor was covered in lush grass, purplish blue light rains down on you from the cloud ceiling roof above casting the entire space into an ethereal glow. It was quiet and peaceful except for the muffled noises of a babbling brook, you hardly had time to take it all in as he swiftly walked over to a bed, placed you down and snuggled up behind you.

The warmth of his chest bleeding through his shirt was heavenly, his hands respectfully stayed glued to your stomach no unwanted advances were made against you, it was just…soothing, so safe. It was hard to tell who was comforting who, but eventually you fell asleep peacefully nestled comfortably in his arms with the sound of the stream drifting in the background.

And so would start your strange new life with the four clone brothers, with Aizetsu swiftly becoming your favorite with how kind, gentle and attentive he was to you. You quickly grew to love him more than the other clones who were chaotic and unpredictable, unlike Karaku who had wandering hands and a lustful eye and Urogi who was Impulsive, boisterous and rough Aizetsu was always calm, polite and caring.

Every night, (you quickly grew accustomed to their nocturnal behaviors) there was a warm meal prepared for you, a new kimono and he'd even offer to help you style your kinky [H/L] hair or massage any stress or aches from your body with his own gentle touch. For a demon he's quite….compassionate to you at least, you'd seen him snap at his brothers every now and then and it was evident he wasn't above violence…just never towards you.

Today however, you got stuck with Sekido. Out of the four clone brothers he was the most….mysterious, he never once tried to interact with you, and only really came out of his room when they had a mission or to yell at his brothers. But you really didn't see too much of him, and you weren't sure whether it was because he didn't like interacting with humans other than well…..eating them or some other reason but it was clear as day that he didn't really like you or want to be around you.

Curiosity bubbled up within you as he sat beside you in silence while burying his face in a book, you were more than aware he felt your burning stares but he didn't make any motion to acknowledge you, instead he continued to stare resolutely at the page. So against your better judgement, your body moving before your mind can fully comprehend what you're doing, you reach out and place your hand gently upon his shoulder feeling the hardened muscles beneath your fingertips tense as his beautiful scarlet pools of molten fire bore into your soul with such intensity it made your heart thump wildly in your chest. You wanted to apologize, to squirm away but the intensity of his gaze pinned you in place. After what seemed hours, the heat of his fiery gaze finally subsided leaving the tingling sensation of cold sweat on your skin to remain. "What do you want human?" His voice deep, rough, and gravelly sounding. You swallowed thickly at the question, and cleared your throat "I….um……sorry" you muttered averting your gaze "I…wanted…..uh..to know….what book you're reading" as those string of words fell from your lips he seemed to stiffen ever so slightly, you took note of it as he turned to look at you, a long moment passed before he replied, "plants" allowing silence to once again reign as there was no further explanation.

He gave a slight nod and licking his thumb flicking a page, "plants?" You echoed his words and he scowled quietly as he continued staring blankly into the book. His brows creased together, and his eyes narrowed to slits he unconsciously fidgeted whenever there was noise from outside, meaning you. Taking a deep breath your palm danced along your forearm as the air thickened in awkwardness, with a long exhale you tried to speak but he beat you it.

"Aizetsu has just just returned, you can leave now" he stated in a bored tone without sparing you a glance. His voice sounded tired and defeated as if something had deeply upset him, your body flinched at the tone of his voice. Your mouth opened slightly at his abrupt response but before you could form a reply, he snapped his book shut startling you slightly as he swiftly rose to his feet. Kimono flowing gracefully around his lithe figure as he stalked passed you to disappear out of sight, you sheepishly followed despite every aspect of your body screaming 'no! Don't follow him! He's dangerous!' But you couldn't deny your curiosity, after all, he was one of your…. masters? Owners? It wasn't exactly clear yet what you were to them yet, but that's besides the point. You wanted to know more about him, and the fact that he went out of his way to avoid you at all cost only fed your insatiable curiousty.

So you trailed behind him in the bending him slowly trying carefully to place your foot to conceal any sound, but he turned to you with a arched brow and you ran smack dab into his muscled chest. Causing you to stumble back a bit his hands caught you by the waist and steadied you, "what do you want go away, I already told you Aizetsu has returned if you're looking for the other two idiots. They got stuck in the sunrise so they had to seek shelter in a cave," he mumbled turning around but your fingers grasped the sleeve of his kimono halting his actions.

"I-I"the words died on your tongue as he stared straight ahead avoiding any form of eye contact with you. Your heart sank in disappointment and sadness, why is he so difficult to talk to?! "I want to spend time with you and get to know you" the words spilled from your lips like water flowing freely, pouring forth in a cascade "I'm sorry I kept asking questions but I'm just really curious about you".

His eyes widened slightly as though surprised with your admission, "W-why would you want to do that?" He asked sounding genuinely confused, doubtful, angry, hesitant, and just a little bit…..hopeful? His expression faltered momentarily revealing the small glimpse of vulnerability and shyness, for a moment you got a glance into the depths of his soul, a rare glimpse which left you breathless.

He was…a lonely man yearning for companionship, for acceptance. This thought alone caused your heart to clench in sympathy, but as quickly it came his true mask slid back over his emotions hiding whatever emotion he had been having, replaced by cold indifference.

He swiftly turned away from you with a deep scowl, grumbling something under his breath "if that's what you wish" he whispered so softly that you barely catch it, as he swiftly strode across the vast room, his footsteps echoing loudly throughout the cavernous room. He walked towards a door, two large doors with gold riming's and crimson wood carved into intricate designs, he pushed one open revealing a dark room. His room was very traditional with Japanese style décor, red silk carpets decorating the floor, an intricate cherry blossom canopy hanging from the ceiling concealing a large cozy bed with it's transparent red curtains framing it. A fireplace adorned the wall near the bed, an incense holder rested atop it sending out a sweet fragrant scent that instantly calmed your nerves as it filled the room with a pleasant aroma, cherry mahogany wood furniture decorated the space giving off an atmosphere of sophistication and tranquility. He walked over to the chair seated in front of the fireplace taking a seat and kicking off his sandals, your feet stayed firmly planted outside the room as you watched him from afar. The fire cast a warm glow around the room and on him. and he leaned over the cushy chair arching a brow, "well are you waiting for an invitation?" He growled but there was a certain underlying note of tenderness, you excitedly scampered over to him planting yourself by his feet resting against the chair. A heavy sigh fell from your lips as you watched his hands twitch along his thighs, every now and then moving in your direction only to change direction at the last moment to preform some small gesture.

After the third movement of his hand, you kinda caught into what he wanted or at least you thought you did. Slowly your hand drifted towards his slowly brushing against his hand until you grasped it, his hand flinched at first but after a few seconds he relaxed.

The warmth radiating between your hands, comforting as you rested your head on his leg, but to your surprise his other hand snaked over your waist gingerly pulling you and situating you on his lap. He never once made eye contact with you but his muscular arm rested loosely around your waist as he buried himself in a book.

It might've been the light of the fire but you swear you could see the smallest of blushes adorn his cheek, "whatcha reading" you murmured quietly and his eyes dropped down to your and once again you were trapped staring into those infinite pools of ruby flame, causing the butterflies residing in your stomach to flutter around wildly making you feel dizzy and light headed, his hand twitched slightly but stayed firm around your waist, with a light sigh he lowered the book in front of you.

Pulling you flush against his back and holding the book open so you could read along if you chose, you happily snuggled back into his warmth and he rested his head atop of yours….this is nice….