#its a stream of thoughts that plague me still | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

onlyjaeyun · 1 year ago

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𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 – 𝟑𝟔

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘𝐒��𝐗: 𝐝𝐚𝐞𝐠�� 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

⤲ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⤲ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞!𝐀𝐔, 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐀𝐔, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

⤲ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟕.𝟓𝐤 (not proofread!!!)

⤲ 𝐜𝐰: 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞; 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭: 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐟.𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐦!𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝟑𝟑𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐡𝟎𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

"What's wrong, Babe? You've been grumpy all morning", Jungwon's concern filled voice barely makes its way through your loud thoughts and with a soft sigh you finally lock your phone and look up at him.

"Are you – Wait, are you crying?"

And as soon as his question hits you, hot tears start streaming down your cheeks, leaving a burning trail on your skin which seems to double the knot in your throat in its size and all of a sudden you find yourself struggling to breathe yet again.

You never realised how much you've been holding them back but after not hearing from your boyfriend in several hours, you're definitely not surprised.

Heeseung has never left your messages unopened for longer than hour, even when he was heads deep in paper work, which is probably why his sudden lack of communication lays so heavy on your chest.

Too many anxious thoughts, worries and doubts have been plaguing your mind for the past few hours and it feels like your lungs are about to collapse from how hard you've been trying to take proper breaths. You know your attachment to him isn't healthy, yet you're aware it's the suddenness of his behavior which has you this stressed.

You'd never question his loyalty or doubt his words, but every time you reread your messages from the previous night you simply can't help but wonder if something you had said or texted had flipped a switched in him, resulting in this painful distance.

"Hey, look at me", Jungwon's stern tone suddenly pulls you out of this dark hole you've been burying yourself in for who knows how long and with big, teary eyes you look at him and subconsciously start imitating the way he's deeply inhaling and exhaling.

Only a few minutes into the breathing exercise do you realise what he's doing and when your lungs finally start filling with oxygen again, you trust yourself enough to speak.

"Seungie hasn't texted me back all morning", you whisper, for some reason a little ashamed and embarrassed for your intense reaction, only for Wonie's expression to soften as he pulls you into his strong arms and places a soft kiss on your forehead.

"It's his first day off in a week, babe", your best friend begins calmly, "he's probably still asleep."

You nod and try your best to believe his words, but for some reason your gut feeling denies those thoughts with too much conviction, resulting in yet another sob to fall from your lips.

"Do you want me to call one of the boys and see if everything's okay?" His suggestion leaves you in actual shock. Not in a million years would you have thought of this and now, on top of shame and embarrassment, you simply feel stupid for reacting the way you did.

"Hold on, I'll get my phone from the bathroom and give Yunie a call", Jungwon smiles at you and casually wipes the tears from your cheeks, his comforting touch easing the tension in your body and with a grateful nod, yet no words, you watch him make his way into the hallway.

With a soft sigh you try to collect yourself, not even wanting to know what you currently look like because you can actually feel the mental exhaustion make its way to your outward appearance.

You hate the way your brain works. Always opting for the worst case scenarios instead of going easy on yourself and if your boyfriend wasn't Lee Heeseung, you're pretty sure you wouldn't have had these suspicions. With him it's either fearing for his physical well-being or assuming he's actually grown tired of you after not even a month.

All of a sudden you find yourself questioning yourself, him, the past few weeks, every single word you two have exchanged, yet nothing seems enough to calm the storm in your head.

The knock on your hotel room door manages to distract you from those mean thoughts and once you hear Jungwon's voice from the bathroom, you take another deep breath and finally get up. For a moment you wonder who it could be, only to shake your head in annoyance at yourself for your thought process, knowing there's just another staff member on the other side of the door trying to do their job.

However, when you swing the door open, there's a face way too familiar to your tired eyes and with furrowed brows you look at the tall business major in front of you, trying your best to understand what's actually happening.

Maybe you've actually gone insane and your brain is imagining things. Things such as Lee Heeseung, the boyfriend you haven't heard from in hours, standing right in front of you with a bouqet of flowers, coffee and the biggest smile on his handsome face.

"Do you want me to leave again?"

His voice sends jolts of excitement through your exhausted body and as soon as you fully realise it's actually him, you slap your hand over your mouth and stare at him like you just saw a ghost.

"Hee...Seung?"

The heaviness on your chest finally vanishes, oxygen filling every bit of your lungs and none of those worries, doubts or dark thoughts are anywhere to be found in your head, leaving you completely free from all pain as you look at the love of your life through your teary gaze.

"Hey, princess."

Heeseung feels a little hesitant because for some reason he can't read your body language as well as usual; the exhaustion from his flight and all those feelings about your possible reactions finally getting the best of him and the longer you stand there doing absolutely nothing, he can't help but think his biggest fears of your rejection have actually come true.

You did say you wished he was there but maybe you only said it to make him feel less lonely or because that's what one would say to their partner. Maybe you wanted to spend some quality time with your best friend without your boyfriend, despite the fact the two of you can't even leave your apartment because it's too risky.

But before Heeseung's chest can tighten even further, you throw your arms around his neck and finally pull him into the hug he's been dreaming about for the past four days.

Jungwon's quick to take the flowers and coffee from his cousin and as soon as Heeseung's strong arms sling around your waist, a soft sob falls past your lips at the comforting feeling of home embracing you.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You chuckle and pull away just enough to look at him, quickly taking in the gentle blush painting the apples of his cheeks as well as the tip of his nose in the sweetest shade of pink.

"God, I love it when you swear like that", Heeseung whispers and allows his hands to find home on your hips, gently kneading the soft flesh in his palms as he tries his best to stay calm.

"Wonie told me to come here and spend New Year's Eve with you", your boyfriend begins and pushes a few strands of hair out of your face, his rings cold against the warm skin of your face, "so I told the Sunghoon Wonie gifted it to me as a belated christmas present and he believed it."

"He knows how broke Jungwon is", you say, confused about how your brother has been way less suspicious than you're used to, something you can't quite understand since he's one of the most attentive people you know.

"Baby, he's so in love with his girlfriend, I'm honestly glad he still knows his name", Heeseung chuckles and places a soft kiss on your forehead, "they even prolonged their couple's trip for two more days and when I asked him why, he said he can't get enough of her. A little cheesy if you asked me."

For some reason your brain doesn't bother processing what your boyfriend has just told you about your brother, the only thing in the center of your attention being the way his lips have never looked as pretty and kissable as they do in this particular moment.

"Eyes on me, princess", his soft demand lets you know how obvious you were being and with a soft gasp you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and meet his dark gaze, something you've missed way too much these past few days.

"Good girl."

"Stop that", you quickly bury your face in the crook of his neck, tightening your grip on his puffer jacket as you try to calm yourself down, the sudden waves of arousal easily overwhelming your sensitive body.

"Don't be such a baby, pretty girl", Heeseung chuckles and takes your face into his big hand, moving the two of you into your hotelroom before he closes the door behind himself and gently pushes you against the wall, pressing his whole body into yours until not even a thin piece of paper would fit between the two of you.

"I mean, you're my baby", he suddenly adds and now he's the one to hide his face in the warm crook of your neck, inhaling your scent he's been craving way too much for his own mental stability, "but we both know you can take a little bit of teasing, don't you?"

"No", you quickly whisper and pull off his beanie to grab a fistful of his dark hair to find the very much needed hold to stop yourself from falling to your knees.

"Fuck, I've missed you so much."

His voice is deep and raspy and you can feel his hard cock pressing against your lower tummy, leaving you lightheaded and on the verge of just ignoring your best friend's presence.

"But we gotta wait until later tonight", Heeseung suddenly says and pulls away, yet again taking your face into his cold hands, "I don't want to traumatize Jungwon, he'd never have us hear the end of it."

"Thank you very much", your best friend suddenly yells from the other room and you both burst into soft chuckles before Heeseung pulls you into a soft, yet hungry kiss, gently grazing your tongue with his and pulling it between his lips and suck on the hot muscle just enough to elicit a tiny whimper from your throat.

"I love you so much, my pretty girl", Seung's words are genuine and soft, happen to be the reason why the last bits of heaviness on your chest as well as your mind finally disappear and after days of being apart from each other, you feel a wave of relief wash over you.

"I love you, too", you whisper and caress his cheeks, "so fucking much."

As the two cousins catch up, you get enough time to get changed and ready for your day out, since you had arranged a lunch date with your best friend's roommates and neither one of you has had anything to eat yet.

You can't help the big smile remaining on your face as you're applying the last few touch ups on yourself, the thought of spending time with your boyfriend without having to worry about anyone seeing or recognizing the two of you giving you way too much hope, which you decide not to question for your own sanity's sake.

By the time you join the boys in the main part of your hotel room, Seung is quick to reach for your hand and guide you to stand in between his spread legs, his dark eyes hungrily roaming your body and taking in the way your cute little outfit is hugging every single curve of your body in just the right way.

"Take your hands off of her ass right now or I'm gonna throw the fuck up", Jungwon's sudden aggression has you burst into laughter yet again and after a gentle kiss, you all make your way down to the lobby, Heeseung never once letting go of your hand until you step out into the cold december air to open the foor to his rental car.

The lunch passes by rather quickly, the boys being just as surprised to see Jungwon's infamous cousin with his arm thrown over your shoulder, only for both of them to give you a big thumbs up when they realise the situation.

After spending a good five hours with your best friend and his roommates, you decide to part ways for the rest of the night, Jungwon not hesitating to push a condom into your purse as he talks about not being ready for uncle duties just yet.

At first you're both a little lost about what to do, neither one of you ever having been to Daegu before and even if you've spent the past four days here, you can barely remember all the places your best friend had shown to you.

After visiting a few famous food spots and tourist attractions which happened to be in close proximity, you both decide to bask in the fresh air by going on a walk at park close to your hotel. It doesn't take long for Seungie to spot the basketball court at the end of the street, a bunch of guys your age yelling each others' names back and forth all while doing the same with a basketball.

"Do you wanna play a few rounds with them, my love?", you ask your boyfriend calmly, loving the way he's still holding onto your hand in the pocket of his puffer jacket, his big bambi eyes finding yours and you're pretty sure this is the first time in years you've seen him as carefree and relaxed as this.

Not having to hide or be careful has given the both of you a fake sense of security you're growing way too attached to, considering it'll be a whole new story as soon as you go back to Seoul, but for now you allow yourself to enjoy every minute of it.

"But what about you, Baby?" He asks carefully and you hate how much his voice effects you. There's absolutely no reason for him to get to you the way he does, way too intense and way too deep.

"You know I love watching my captain play", you reply with a big smile, "I'll cheer you on from the sidelines."

"You're the best girlfriend ever", Heeseung chuckles and gives you a quick kiss on the forehead, "but promise me you'll tell me once it gets too cold, yeah?"

After making your pinky promise, you both approach the group of guys, all of them turning out to be students at Jungwon's university, one of them even recognizing you from your best friend's instagram stories and as soon as Heeseung tells them about his position on his own team, they basically fight about who gets to play with him.

You get comfortable on the bench right next to their things, shooting your boyfriend a big smile and a wave whenever his gaze falls on you to make sure you're not freezing to death.

Every now and then you take a few pictures of Heeseung in his element, yet most of the time you're mesmerized and fascinated by the way he plays with such precision, making sure to stay true to his title with ease.

About an hour into the first round, the boys decide to take a much needed break, where Heeseung gets into a conversation with the oldest of them, who just so happens to be a fellow captain and ace, while you casually scroll on instagram and reply to your girls' texts as well as sending Ning a quick message to ask her about her roadtrip with your brother.

You don't pay much attention to the young students around you, all of them just chatting or resting, laughter erupting every now and then, only for your brain to filter everything out but a particular duo's conversation.

At first you're confused, only to realise they're talking about you; a wave of discomfort washing over you as soon as the realisation hits.

You try your best not to listen to them, however – much to your dismay – the two boys aren't really quiet or subtle about their current conversation topic.

"Do you think they're together?" One of them says, his eyes roaming your side profile shamelessly, meanwhile the other one has already stepped back far enough to look you straight in the face.

"Nah, bro", his friend replies casually, "he would have claimed her if she was his. Who wouldn't with a girl this fine."

You let out a shaky sigh, your eyes remaining focused on your boyfriend who's still attentively listening to the fellow captain in front of him. For some reason you want to get up and either give them a piece of your mind, escape the situation completely or go up to Heeseung and do what he apparently was supposed to do.

Seung has never believed in anything such as seventh sense, always used to shrug it off when people told him about it. Yet, ever since you came back into his life, he had actually started doubting his initial mindset, mostly because of the way his heart starts racing and his brain basically screams at him to check up on you, as if he could subconsciously sense your discomfort, sadness or anything that's not absolute happiness.

And as this weird feeling slowly finds its way into his gut, he catches himself losing focus on his current conversation, politely nodding and agreeing with the guy in front of him, all while desperately trying to catch a glimpse of you through his peripheral vision.

As soon as one of the boys calls out for their captain, Heeseung takes the opportunity and quickly excuses himself, only for several jolts of anger rushing through his veins when he's met with those two guys blocking you from his sight. Heeseung doesn't have to see you to know you're uncomfortable and no matter how much he tries to calm himself down, he simply can't help but firmly push one of them just far away enough from you to be on eye level with them.

"Is there a fucking problem, boys?" His voice is strained and from the way his hands are balled into fists, you can tell just how tense he is, quickly jumping onto your feet, yet not getting the chance to say anything to calm your boyfriend down.

"Hm, not quite", the taller one of them replies casually yet again, "pretty girl's just a little stubborn. All we did was ask for her instagram."

"Are you too stupid to understand a simple 'no'? Back the fuck off", Heeseung presses through gritted teeth and you can't help but feel anxious as all the possible outcomes of this situation fill your head.

"Woah, we got a bodyguard on our hands", the one with the shaved head chuckles and rolls his eyes, neither one of those two guys aware what they're actually dealing with and all of a sudden you think of all the times Heeseung turned out to be the one to end a fight his boys had started.

"Not a bodyguard but her boyfriend", Seung states proudly, his head held up high as he eyes the boys' reaction and you genuinely hate the way something cramps up in your lower tummy in response to his words.

"Oh, no", the tall one says in faux mockery, "now we're so scared! Please, don't hurt us!"

"I really don't have the nerve to deal with children like you", Heeseung grunts and takes his jacket from your arms, making sure to keep you firmly hidden behind his tall frame and you take a deep breath as you try to tell yourself your boyfriend has it all under control.

"Tell your captain I said thank you for the game. Now fuck off or I'll rearrange those teeth." Heeseung seems way too calm and collected for someone who's as mad as he is and you know he's doing it to provoke them.

"You and this pretty girl aren't going anywhere", the one with the shaved head suddenly spits and reaches for Seung's collar, only for him to grab his wrist and twist his arm behind his back, quickly knocking his head against the pole of the basketball hoop with a loud bang.

The suddenness of it all takes you by surprise and you couldn't have held your audible gasp back even if you had tried to.

Heeseung calmly leans down as he places his chin on the boy's shoulder, whispering another threat into his ear, yet loud enough for you to hear.

"Don't make me bring your mother into this. I don't like repeating myself so this is the last time I'm telling you and big boy right there to fuck. Off. Got it?"

You carefully watch the way the tall one goes to help his friend, who's currently trying his best to keep up his tough exterior, only for his face to contort in agony from the pain in his bloody nose.

Not a single word is being exchanged between the two of you, Heeseung firmly holding onto your hand as he tries to calm himself down but you can tell how angry he is at himself for not acting on his gut feeling a little earlier. His habit of putting the whole blame on himself breaking your heart, bringing back the memories from all the times he used to punish himself for simple human behavior and mistakes.

However, you don't push him. After knowing him for a while, you know how to read his body language just as well as he does yours and as the two of you enter the elevator to your hotel room, you can tell how tense and agitated he is.

There's no point in talking to him in this particular moment but you'd be dammed if you didn't try your best to distract him from those mean thoughts once it's really just the two of you.

As soon as the two of you walk through the door into your hotelroom, you attentively watch your boyfriend slowly get rid of his clothes, revealing his strong body to your hungry eyes within just a few minutes and for a moment you actually forget about his current emotional state.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower really quick", he announces and approaches the bathroom, avoiding your gaze carefully and you know it's because he's feeling ashamed for things his own mind had come up with.

"Do I not get a kiss?" You smile and look up at him after taking off your own jacket, your whole body welcoming the warmth of your cozy room after a whole day of coldness.

"Of course, angel girl", he finally sighs and takes a whole of two steps before he comes to stand in front of you, dressed in nothing but his black oversized shirt and boxershorts, "anything for my princess."

Heeseung takes his time to look at you, his heart craving the sight of your pretty eyes, the ones he'd dream of every night for the past decade, hoping that one day the adoration and love would belong to him and him only. And as his gaze roams your face attentively, he realises his dream had become reality, yet those dark thoughts in his brain still refused to let him indulge in the warmth and comfort of your gaze.

So, after a quick but firm kiss on your lips, he places another one on your forehead before he turns around and makes his way back to the bathroom.

This time you can't help but let out a soft sigh of defeat, trying your best to come up with ways to have him loosen up, only for your eyes to land on the hot tub on the balcony your boyfriend had insisted was a necessity when he booked your hotelroom for you.

You weren't planning on using it when you were all alone since the thought of being in a hot tub by yourself felt a little weird, yet now that your boyfriend is actually here with you, you're determined to make the best of it.

With a big smile you quickly go to turn it on, knowing it'll be just hot enough by the time Heeseung is done with his shower and hopefully this will help him get rid of all those doubtful thoughts in his head.

Once you've also gotten rid of all your clothes, you opt for the silk robe you had brought along because you knew your best friend would show up at the earliest hours of the dsy and you definitely wouldn't have felt like changing into proper clothes just yet.

You patiently wait for your boyfriend, anticipation and excitement rushing through your body at the thought of what might happen tonight depending if he'll actually be in the mood or not.

Heeseung usually never takes long showers, but tonight, of all days, he feels like the hot water splashing against his skin is the only thing to calm his anger. He's very much aware of his sudden shift in mood has you on the edge, yet no matter how hard he tries, he simply can't calm himself down. The whole scenario of those little boys cornering and making you uncomfortable never once leaving his head and for a moment he's actually afraid he might spiral back into this dark hole he had barely made it out of after you had left for Daegu a few days ago.

Seung doesn't even realise just how much time passes until the soft knock on the bathroom door finally pulls him back into reality.

"Are you okay?"

Your gentle voice is just loud enough for it to make its way through the loud stream of the shower head, as well as Heeseung's thoughts and with a soft sigh, he finally decides to turn the water off and accept his defeat of the night.

Being with you is going to distract him, he can just go back to these demons once you've fallen asleep. Heeseung won't let them take away some of his precious time with you, which is why he doesn't waste another minute and before you can lift your hand to knock again, he swings the door open and doesn't even realise what the sight of him in nothing but a towel does to your poor heart.

"Oh", you whisper and press your thighs together, averting your gaze to the floor to calm your racing heart and that's when Heeseung remembers what you do to him, because all of a sudden nothing but you and your sweet reactions matter.

"Eyes up here, pretty girl", he calmly says, his own gaze roaming your pretty body with nothing but hunger and want oozing from those brown orbs and with a harsh gulp you lift your head.

"Good girl."

"S-Stop", you whimper and bury your face in his wet chest, loving the way his hot skin feels against your own, "do you wanna go watch the stars in the hot tub?"

Your question surprises him, but in the best way possible.

With a soft chuckle Heeseung wraps his arms around your shoulders and guides the two of you back into the main part of your hotel room.

"I didn't bring my swimwear", he then states and looks at you with raised brows, knowing exactly what you've got on that pretty mind of yours, yet still waiting for you to say it out loud.

"Me neither", you finally say and look at him with glossy eyes, "we're far up enough to uhm – not be seen by others. Do you think we could just get in naked?"

"Of course, princess", Heeseung quickly responds and reaches for your hand, pulling you towards the balcony behind him before he pushes the door to the side and quickly closes it again.

It doesn't take either of you longer than a minute to be overwhelmed by the cold december air and before your brain can let the shame and embarrassment take over, you find yourself comfortably nestled in the hot water, right next to your boyfriend.

"What a shame it's so cold", Heeseung sighs and gets comfortable on one of the little benches inside the tub, "but it's okay, I'll just eat your cute pussy when we're back inside."

Those words send hot jolts of arousal down your spine and before you can think of anything else, you straddle his lap and crash your lips against his in a hungry kiss.

Heeseung can't stop the deep grunt from bubbling up his throat, the noise quickly swallowed by your hungry mouth as you pull his tongue between your lips and start sucking the way you know he loves it.

Neither one of you points out his hard cock firmly pressing against your lower tummy, both too caught up with savoring each other's taste as much as possible.

Your kisses grow hungrier, needier, more desperate by the minute and with every swipe of his tongue inside of your mouth, you push your hips harder against his, grinding your needy gunt against his rock hard length and shamelessly whimpering against his plump lips.

"Fuck, I've missed you, Baby", Heeseung whispers as his lips find their way down your jawline to your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses on your hot skin.

His hands are nervously roaming your body, kneading and groping every bit of soft flesh he can grasp and by the time they finally find their way to your sensitive breasts, you can't help but throw your head back with a loud moan.

"Now, now, princess", he chuckles and takes one of your perked nipples into his hot mouth, sucking gently while his other hand gently kneads the soft flesh of your tits, giving you just enough stimulation to leave you completely lightheaded.

"Not too loud yeah? Wouldn't want anyone to hear those sweet noises", he grunts and bites down just hard enough to send shivers down your body, "they're mine. Everything about you belongs to me, princess. And you know I hate sharing."

"All yours", you moan right into his ear, loving the way his cock twitches underneath you as soon as your words reach him, "only yours."

"That's my good girl." Heeseung groans at the way you're grinding against his sensitive cock, his hand quickly sneaking between the two of you and underneath the water, every bit of self control slowly leaving his body and just as he pushes two of his long fingers into your tight cunt, the realisation hits him.

"I don't have a condom here", he growls and throws his head back in annoyance, yet his words don't seem to be important enough to fight their way through the thick cloud of arousal clouding your brain.

"I don't care", you whisper and slowly ride his fingers, the penetration as eell as the feeling of his palm firmly pressed against your sensitive clit leaving you conpletely breathless.

"No, Baby", he suddenly whispers and grabs your face with his free hand, knowing you have to look at him to understand the severity of the situation.

"If I fuck you raw I won't ever want to go back and my pull out game is basically non-existent with you", he wanrs and ppukls his fingers out of your cunt, almost giving into your protesting whimpers yet too aware of the danger your little game comes with.

"But Seungie–", "Don't beg me, princess. One day I'm going to fill you up with my cum until you can't take it anymore but we're both not ready for a mini-me, please don't tempt me."

For some reason his words have wamrth blossoming in your chest, the thought of Lee Heeseung being the father to your children a daydream you've always kept way too close to your heart and the longer you look at him, the more you want to actually dismiss his warnings and just beg for it.

But he's right. One day you'll get what you're asking for right now but not tonight.

With a soft sigh you nod and pull away, Heeseung not watsing another second as he jumps out of the tub just to return with a few condoms in his hand a few seconds later.

"Get up here, princess", he demands softly and you look at him with raised brows, not quite understanding his request.

"I need to eat that pretty cunt right now, it's been way too long and I wanna cum with your taste on my tongue", he grunts and gulps harshly, his whole face flushed and big bambi eyes basically wide open.

"Please, Baby", your usually so calm and collected boyfriend begs softly, something you should have grown used to by now since you've noticed how needy and desperate he seems to get whenever it's about burying his head between your legs.

"I promise I'll make it quick", this time you can't stop the soft whimper to fall from your lips in response to his little whine, "not gonna make you cum. I just want a taste, please."

And who on their right mind would ever deny him a request so sweet?

The fact Heeseung eats pussy for his own pleasure is probably one of the most important reasons as to why you can't ever say no to him, watching the way he loses himself in the way you taste never once failing to push you over the edge.

And just as usual, it doesn't take much more convincing than that, as you climb onto the edge of the tub to spread your legs and put your pussy on full display for your boyfriend's hungry eyes.

Without missing another beat, Heeseung throws your legs over his shoulders and quickly gets to work, sucking your sensitive clit into his mouth after licking his way up from your tight hole.

You can barely catch your breath from how vigorously he's eating you out, let alone realise just how cold it actually is.

However, Heeseung is too attentive to miss the way the goosebumps never once leave your body, which is why he decides to keep his meal even shorter than he had initially planned, not wanting to risk anything.

"Come into the water, angel girl", he whispers softly and pulls away, quickly taking you into his arms and making sure your whole body is in the hot embrace before he pushes your legs apart and reaches for one of the condoms.

At this point you're way too far gone to care about anything; not even the fact that your possible audience is way bigger than you would have expected and for the first time in your life you physically can't get yourself to care enough.

The thought of having Heeseung claim you in front of so many strangers actually has your cunt clenching in despair.

"I wanna ride you", you suddenly whisper, your body acting on your random thoughts before your brain has the chance to intervene and at your request Heeseung simply stops mid stroke.

His cock twitches so hard in his fist, he actually feels the condom slip from his grip and with a deep grunt he buries his face in the crook of your neck and takes a deep breath.

You've been on top before, however Seung quickly realised that this new found position, one he had always refused to get in with his previous partners, has quickly become his favorite, as well as his biggest weakness. Every time you rode him he noticed how all the stamina he had worked so hard to obtain all these years seemed to simply disappear.

Maybe it's the way you look like an actual angel when you're lowering yourself onto his thick cock, your whines getting louder with each inch, or maybe it's the way you never look anywhere but his eyes when you're taking him liie the good girl you are but either way it never fails to make him absolutely weak.

"Don't worry", you suddenly say and take his face into your palms, placing the softest kiss on his lips before guiding him to sit back onto the little bench and quickly straddling his lap again, your patience running way too thin after four whole days of feeling emptier than ever, "I don't give a fuck about how long you last. Please, Seungie, I just wanna feel you inside of me again."

And now it's Heeseung who physically can't control the moans from rolling off his tongue, his head thrown back, messy hair sticking to his damp forehead as he digs his fingers into your hips and tries his best to stay calm.

He's lost every bit of composure already and if it wasn't for the possibility of people actually hearing the two of you, he would have been the loudest he's ever been.

You attentively watch the way he slowly cocks his head to the side as you reach in between your bodies and wrap your hand around his cock, guiding him to the entrance of your cunt and slowly lowering yourself onto his lengths with a soft hiss.

You both gasp for air as soon as his tip stretches you out just enough to send tiny waves of pain through your veins, yet not enough to actually hurt you.

"Oh, fuck", Heeseung groans and tightens his grip on your hips to stop himself from thrusting the whole of his cock into the sweetness of your cunt, "I've missed this pretty pussy so much, Baby."

"M-More, Seungie", you beg softly, knowing his dirty words never fail to distract you from the slight discomfort the first few seconds of being penetrated come with.

"That's my good girl", Heeseung doesn't hesitate as he gently wraps his hand around your throat, his grip lose yet the feeling of his every day rings against your hot skin easily pushing you further into the sweet haze of your arousal, "you always take my cock so well, angel. Making me so proud."

"Oh?" You gasp and look up at him with glossy eyes, still not quite used to hearing such gentle and genuine words of affirmation and appreciation from basically anyone.

Damn your stupid family for never giving you any validation and attention in your childhood.

Neither one of you dares to avert their gaze from the other one's face, Heeseung calmly taking in the way your pretty features contort in pleasure with each inch of his cock and by the time his thick tip finally grazes the entrance to your womb, you both let out the breaths neither one of you knew you were holding.

"S-So big", you breathe and let your eyes roll into the back of your head when Heeseung's cock twitches in response to your words, "I missed you so much."

"Me, too, princess", Seung grunts and pulls you into a sloppy kiss, his hands finding home in the soft flesh of your ass as he tries to make you move, knowing he'll actually last even less if you keep clenching around him the way you do right now.

You still take your time to find a good rhythm, grinding yourself against his hips after every single movement, your hands firmly pressed against his chest and your head thrown back in pure ecstasy.

Heeseung can barely keep his eyes open, yet forces himself to because the sight of your pretty tits bouncing up and down every time you move is something he won't ever grow tired of.

To his own surprise he finds himself lasting a lot longer than expected, even despite the merciless movements of your hips and constant convulsions of your tight cunt around his cock.

"You're close, aren't you, pretty girl?"

He actually doesn't need you to answer his question, your high pitched moans of his name and your tight grip in his hair are more than enough to give away just how close you are, yet Heeseung would never miss an opportunity to hear you use such dirty words.

"Yes – fuck – yes, Seungie, so fucking close", you whimper and pick up the pace of your movements, switching between grinding your hips harder against his and slamming yourself down his length sloppily, "please, I want it so bad. Need you to make me cum, please."

Your little begs are more than enough for the young captain, one of his hands finding their way around your neck again, while the other disappears in the water to rub firm circles into your hardned clit, giving you just the last bits of stimulation you need.

"Look at me, angel girl", Heeseung presses through gritted teeth, the taste of his own orgasm coating the tip of his tongue yet holding onto the last bits of his patience with his whole strength, "I wanna see what only I can do to you. Come on, be good for me yeah?"

You hectically start nodding in response to his demand, your eyes rolling back yet again but finding his each time and as soon as Heeseung gently tightens his grip around your neck, the struggle to breathe properly finally pushes you over the edge and with a moan way too loud for your current location the coil in your lower tummy snaps.

Usually Heeseung takes it easy once you're cumming around his cock, simply because he wants to watch the way you fall apart for him, but this time there's absolutely no chance he can hold himself back any longer. Four days without the pussy of his dreams have barely been bearable and after fucking his fist to the sound of your whimpers and moans only, he willingly accepts the sweet relief rushing through his veins all the way into his toes.

With a row of loud moans of your name and another set of praising words, Heeseung finally buries his face in the crook of your neck and spills every last drop of his cum into the condom, something he's usually dreading but happens to be too tired to overthink.

"Fuck, that was good", Heeseung groans and pulls the two of you a little further under the water, the sudden lack of movement reminding you just how cold it actually is.

"Good job, champ", you reply playfully and love the way your boyfriend throws his head back before he bursts into genuine laughter, a sound so sweet and precious, you catch yourself savoring every single second of it.

Neither one of you bothers to get dressed after your joined shower, just climbing underneath the sheets and embracing each other's warmth and enjoying the feeling of finally being this close again.

You feel your lids growing heavier by the second, your face deeply buried in your boyfriend's neck as he talks to your brother on the phone, his arm firmly wrapped around your shoulders to press you even closer to his body and you can't help but smile to yourself.

"Y/N? Oh, I don't know", Heeseung suddenly says and you hate how he suddenly tenses up at your brother mentioning you to his best friend, "we're staying at the same hotel but I didn't talk to her after we got to our rooms."

You know how much your boyfriend hates lying to his best friend but for some reason you can't get yourself to actually feel guilty about it because the mere thought of your brother's reaction to the truth has your heart dropping to your stomach. For now, this is how things are going to go and you can't even lie and say you're rushing to tell your sibling about your relationship to his bestest of friends, simply because you know how much more difficult this will be for the boys than for you.

"It'll be okay, Baby", you whisper against the skin of his neck after Heeseung ends the call, weird tension lingering in the air but as soon as he reaches for your chin to look into your eyes, you feel it vanish just as fast as it had apprared a few seconds ago.

"We'll be okay, princess. It's not going to be easy but at the end of the day we'll be alright. And most importantly: I'm always going to be by your side. You're my home, my safe haven, my first and only love. You're everything I've ever wanted and I hope you know you're worth every single fight."

And just as usual, you don't doubt a single one of his words, despite the gentle pain libgering in his soft gaze, you know Heeseung's telling you nothing but the truth. His own way of letting you know not to worry about your rank in choice. Because Sunghoon might be his bestest of friends, his soul twin and the guy he'd walk over fire for, but there's nobody he'd choose over you, his everything.

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

(A/N: Thank you guys sm for being so patient, I really appreciate it so much. Sending everyone kisses and lots of love, I hope you guys know how much I appreciate the love and support you've been sending my way all this time. Feedback, asks, comments and reblogs are always appreciated my sweet loves!🧸💗)

TAGLIST CLOSED: @soonigiri @thvhannie @enhaz1 @kpoprhia @abrazosolorcereza @deobitifull @mixtape-racha @certifiedmoa @jungwon-xo @hoonieluv @enhamysunshines @jaehoonii @pussyslayerhd @ineedsomezzz @neocockthotology @heerinnie @onionzzzs @hee-pster @3amstarlight @xxxxrvexxxx @primroselover @mimikittysblog @iea-tsand @lhspeachie @xiaoderrrr @viagumi @smg-valeria @kells5595 @heeseunghee7 @xrvrqs @ddazed-lhs @heebrry @fakeuwus @dammit-jjk @ivyannemarie @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @s00buwu

#enhypen social media au #enhypen smut #heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung social media au #lee heeseung x reader #enhypen writers #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #heeseung smau #heeseung social media au

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captain-hawks · 5 months ago

Note

Dee, I have Thoughts and no one irl to brainrot @ so pls excuse the umpteenth time I am in your notifications this weekend.

Last week I word vomited in your spicy requests about how much TraditionalGarb!Hoshina plagues my thoughts. Well, I went out for dinner and had a few cocktails, and my slightly drunk, pliant mind was churning the entire ride home. [Sober Note: I started this ask right when I got home, and now, having sobered up a bit, holy hell I am sorry for getting lost in the sauce and turning what was supposed to be drunk imagines into something ludicrous. I can't quite bring myself to delete it bc I was clearly so into it, but seriously if this is too long/annoying please just ignore me!]

I'm thinking of a historical period-era AU Hoshina clan. Not too familiar with Japanese history but maybe Edo period, idk about historical accuracy. In my imagines, reader is from a less influential, albeit wealthier clan, has 2 older brothers, and grew up around the Hoshina family from birth. Both their families are preoccupied with the eldest children and their role in continuing the family legacy/business, so their families don't hound them too closely in their childhoods. They're in a rural, countryside part of Japan with plenty of wild grass and flower fields. Soichiro holds all the weight of family expectation so he is more aloof. But Soshiro is allowed more freedom, so when he isn't obsessively training, he is spending time with reader as her closest childhood friend. Meanwhile, reader is trained in all the traditional arts and duties expected of her, but she also has a love for calligraphy (or painting but idk how accurate that is) that she is allowed to cultivate because, again, her parents aren't hounding her too closely. She's fascinated by Soshiro's swordsmanship and makes him show her all the moves he is learning, and in turn, he is enthralled by her knowledge and love of calligraphy and likes to hear her talk about it for hours even if he doesn't quite get it. Because they're in a rural area, they also play outdoors together whenever they can, climbing trees and splashing in the streams, and Soshiro is rough-and-tumble and free around her in ways he can't be at home when he's ceaselessly trying to measure up to and surpass his brother. As they grow older they are naturally forced apart due to expectations of their genders and stations. They still hold onto what they believe is a fondness for their childhood friend, until one day, as the wild wisteria blooms and they see a glimpse of each other after an absence of several months, they both realize that the innocent fondness held in their hearts had taken root long ago and finally bloomed into love.

Unfortunately, in the Edo period, warrior families started to lose their place in this era of newfound peace, and the Hoshinas are forced to worry about their place in this world for the first time. At the same time, reader's clan is struck by tragedy and her 2 older brothers are killed in an accident, leaving a vacuum for the future of the clan. The Hoshina and Reader patriarchs decide on what they believe is a mutually beneficial arrangement: Soichiro and Reader shall join their clans in marriage. Reader's clan benefits from the prestige of the Hoshina name, and the Hoshina clan benefits from the prosperous wealth of her family. As the sole remaining offspring of her clan, she should be honored to be chosen to helm the Hoshina household and bear its heirs.

Ofc Reader is devastated, but she knows that her voice is unimportant and she will forever be doomed to suffer in a life so close to her dreams, but with a cruel twist. She sees Soshiro just once after the engagement announcement, and it is with a too-cheerful mask that he congratulates her on her match, and, in a moment when no one is looking, he slips into her hands a small gift that he had picked up in the capitol on his last trip and had been meaning to give to her: some fine new ink he thought she would love for her calligraphy. He supposes it is an engagement gift now, even if the gift is only really for her.

On the eve of her wedding, she manages to sneak out and find Soshiro. Together, they go to the grassy field of wildflowers by the creek they played in as children. Even though fate is not on their side, it seems the moon has sympathy for them, because it hides behind clouds and conceals their illicit meeting. They're finally able to declare their love for one another in the place where it all began. She tells Soshiro that even though destiny was determined to keep them apart, she wants to know what it is to wholly love and be loved, just once in her life. So under the glow of a thousand fireflies, she undresses Hoshina, gently pulling his kosode apart to reveal his chest. She laughs lightly as she traces his scars-the old and familiar ones from childhood, and the newer ones he has acquired in manhood. She traces the marks she remembers: the dented scar on his shoulder from when he fell out of the cypress tree trying to grab a beetle to impress her when they were five. The patch of slightly uneven skin along his arm from three years later, when he had run after his father's horse in the road and tripped down the hill. The thin, raised slash from when Soichiro had cut him in training at age 11, to teach him a lesson on inferiority. From there, she draws lines to the unfamiliar marks: a puffy patch of new skin from a recent battle wound that has only started to heal, two pigmented gashes where he was gouged in battle last year, a mottled expanse of bruises on his ribs from where he had challenged Soichiro last month, just after the engagement announcement, and had finally shown his brother that his attempted lesson in inferiority had never sunk in.

She says that all these marks tell her a story in the same way a calligrapher's soul is left indelibly in their brushstrokes. She sees a world in his body, and it tells her favorite story. Overwhelmed, Soshiro finally crashes into her and through the flurry of kissing he has her on her back in the grass, slipping her out of her garments. He's mapping his way across her significantly less blemished skin with his lips and tongue, and laments between pants that he will never be able to partake in the story of her body, because she belongs to his brother and he cannot leave his own brushstrokes on the expanse of her skin. Breathless, reader pulls a bottle tucked into her undergarment next to her heart-a vial of the precious ink Soshiro had gifted her. Her wedding is tomorrow-she knows there is no way he can leave any lasting marks on her. But for tonight, she is his and she wants some proof of that, however temporary. So Soshiro dips his finger in the ink and swirls and dips it all over the memories he has buried in his mind: a spot on her neck where a particularly vicious bee had stung her as they chased tadpoles as six-year-olds, a whorl on her shoulder where his ten-year-old head rested as she unrolled endless scrolls to extol the virtues of some long-dead calligrapher, an almost-violent slash just under the swell of her bosom where he had caught her when she had fallen in her attempt to swing his katana at 13.

And as he finally lines up his achingly hard cock and breaches her cunt, as he makes love to her for the first and last time, he grieves for the death of the two stories written here-hers, which will be washed off her body as soon as she returns to her home, and his, which will wither and end without her to trace the patterns and give them the meaning he can never find by himself. [sober note/holy run on sentence batman]

you better believe i'm posting this ask because IT NEEDS TO BE SEEN!!!

MY FRIEND!!!!! i'm on my knees. i'm begging. i'm clawing at the air. i'm frantically waving anything of value that i have in your direction. i implore you to write this because i'm wholly obsessed. a period piece, childhood friends, the arranged marriage, THE YEARNING, THE LOVELY POETRY OF IT ALL EVEN JUST AS A SUMMARIZED VERSION!?!?!?

She says that all these marks tell her a story in the same way a calligrapher's soul is left indelibly in their brushstrokes. She sees a world in his body, and it tells her favorite story.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(don't even get me started on him painting on her????? oh my god i'm so unwell. i need one of those fainting couches. i want to CONSUME THISSSSS)

you're a genius. a brilliant wonderful genius.

#💌 inbox #hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina soshiro #THIS!!!#this right here

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thriftedtchotchkes · 2 years ago

Text

a sudden sense of liberty

pairing: joel miller x reader

word count: 620

a/n: wrote this at 3 am because it was sad hours

"What's wrong, baby?"

His voice sounds even-toned and calm. He's always so calm when you're not, when you can't be. Even now, when you're sobbing, body wracking with them as they crash over you in salty, despairing waves.

You can't tell him what's wrong. You know—of course, you know, but you can't find the words to explain it. The deep sorrow that's burrowed its way into your chest, seeped through the cracks in your ribcage, and nestled around your heart.

"S'okay, you don't have to tell me," he murmurs behind you, the warmth of his hand a whisper hovering above your shoulder.

You wish he'd touch you, that you could feel his hand, rough and perfect, on your skin, but you're afraid to ask. It's not the answer you're scared of. He'd say yes. Without hesitation, he probably wouldn't say anything at all, would just run his fingers soothingly through your hair, pushing it back and away from the sadness still streaming down your cheeks.

You don't ask. And so, he doesn't.

"You all alone up here? Ya shouldn't be," his voice is so, so soft in your ear. It's the sweetest melody, your favorite song played at the lowest volume. "Ya shouldn't ever be alone."

Alone. All alone in his bed, your bed, the one you shared for years, and that's filled with memories of love and laughter. And loss. The reasons for the tears that still haven't stopped, and are starting to burn your eyes and cheeks. A mind and heart still on fire, even though you've got nothing left. He lets them fall and soak your pillow, his pillow.

Why won't it stop? It hurts so much all the time, but it's so poignant, so painful right now. Touch me, touch me. A plea that plagues your thoughts, never to be said aloud, rattling around your brain on an endless loop.

"I want to. You got no idea how much," he replies as if he can hear it, too.

What you wouldn't give to feel his arms around you. To feel his lips press into the back of your neck, his coarse beard and soft, graying curls nuzzling against you. His strong, broad hands splayed across your stomach, scaring away all of those horrible things that found a home where he left vacant.

Finally, he lays down with you, wrapping you up in his arms, and you think you must be going crazy. But right now, you're so grateful, you don't even care.

"I miss you so much," you finally whisper, eyelids fluttering closed as your breathing starts to even out. You don't dare turn around, content to enjoy his embrace for as long as he'll let you.

"I know ya do, baby," and you swear his lips brush against your cheek with every word. "But ya can't stay like this forever."

Another tear rolls down your face, and he lets that one fall, too. You struggle to stay awake, knowing that he won't be there when you open your eyes in the morning. He doesn't linger, not anymore. But you're so tired, and the fight in you has all but gone.

"I know," you repeat, defeated. "Just for a little while longer, I promise. Stay with me?"

Exhaustion creeps in and that familiar, inky darkness begins to consume you. This time, you allow it to, trusting that he'll keep you safe like he always does. Like he always will.

A warm summer breeze blows in through the open window, rustling your hair and drying your tears, and it feels just like him, balmy and gentle. A reminder that, even though Joel is gone, you'll never really be alone.

"I'm always with ya, baby."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller

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mischievouslittlecreature · 1 month ago

Text

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Summary: Tommy's ambitions take them to new heights, but not without consequences looming on the horizon.

Word Count: 4,005

Warnings: Sexual content and references to torture and pregnancy. Bit of a bittersweet ending here, so sorry about that!

Notes: I originally considered including some more detailed aspects--even potentially a full chapter--detailing Lizzie's pregnancy and Ruby's birth, but I have tokophobia, and just wasn't comfortable going into that much detail regarding that topic. So apologies to anyone who wanted to see more of that. And I promise that the Lizzie drama is only just beginning, and will be a big part of the next couple parts, so please consider checking those out once they're posted if you're interested in seeing a continuation of that aspect of the story.

Also, I just want to give a huge thank you to everyone who has read this story. This is to date the biggest single fic I have ever written, and the support you have given me means so much. I promise to have more featuring Tommy and Lucy out very soon!

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Part

Chapter 29: Shake Hands with the Devil

Returning to work had been the right idea.

Already, Lucy was starting to feel better, work helping to drive the dark thoughts that had been plaguing her lately to the back of her mind. They were still there, but they weren’t nearly as loud as they once were.

Tommy’s new plan required a good amount of logistics and organizing, both of which she was eager to take on. And another action, one somewhat less desirable, but just as necessary.

She was surprised at just how easy it was to get Jessie to give up the name of the leader of the cell. All it took was a kiss from Tommy and a declaration that he wanted to help her cause to have information already spilling from her lips.

But then again, Tommy always seemed to have that effect on women. And Jessie, despite how she may have presented herself, was desperate for connection.

“You alright?” Tommy asked, after Jessie had left the office with the promise that they’d meet up later.

“I feel a little bad for what we’re doing to her,” Lucy sighed, leaning back into him while his hands rested on her upper arms, chin settling on the top of her head.

“If you really don’t want to go through with it, we can figure something else out–”

“No, it’s fine.” She turned around in his arms to face him, resting her head on his chest, leaning into the warmth of his body.

It was a shitty thing, what they were doing to Jessie. But fucking her was necessary to ensure her loyalty until the election was done. And to maintain the steady stream of information she could provide them about the communists–at least, that’s what Lucy was going to keep telling herself in order to be able to sleep at night.

“Just…” she worried on her bottom lip, feeling Tommy’s hand settle protectively on the back of her head. “Promise me that you won’t come in her.” She didn’t need to specify as to why, feeling him tense a little against her of the reminder of Lizzie and her approaching due date.

“I promise.”

She cleared her throat awkwardly. “We really should talk about what you want to do about Lizzie.”

“What do you mean?”

She hesitated, unsure as to how she could properly broach the subject to him, feeling a tear begin to cleave its way through her heart in response to what she was about to suggest. Even as she forced the words to come out.

“You should marry her.”

Tommy jerked back, staring at her with a furrowed brow, frown pulling his lips downwards. “What?”

“You can’t be unmarried with an illegitimate child if you want to move into politics, Tommy.” Knowing him, winning the position of MP was just the beginning. He had big things ahead of him. “You have to project the right kind of image. And if you want to be able to be involved in any sort of significant way with the baby…”

“But I love you,” he said softly. “If I’m going to marry anyone–”

“It needs to be the mother of your child,” Lucy finished for him stubbornly. He shot her a wounded look.

“I don’t want to marry her.”

We don’t always get what we want, she thought, but bit her tongue. If things had been different, maybe it could have been her that he would marry. But they weren’t.

“And besides, what about you?” he pressed.

“I think that I’m a small price to pay for the betterment of your child’s life and your career.”

The hurt in his eyes deepened. “Well I don’t!”

“Tommy…”

“We’re not talking about this,” his jaw twitched unhappily as he shook his head, turning towards his desk.

“Sweetheart, please…”

“I’m not giving you up.” That stubborn sharpness entered his eyes, jaw setting, and she knew that she would get nowhere with him on the subject. At least not yet. He’d have to see with his own eyes that she was right before he budged on it.

She sighed. The last thing that she wanted to do at the moment was fight with him. “Alright.”

They did not speak of the matter again. Though it lingered in the air between them like a ghost.

∗ ∗ ∗

They laid side by side in the narrow bed, Tommy in the middle with Lucy on one side of him, Jessie on the other. He was thumbing at his brow with one hand, staring up at the ceiling while Jessie slipped out from under the sheets to go get dressed. Lucy watched her lazily, shifting to tuck herself more closely into Tommy’s side. His arm dropped to wrap around her shoulders, fingers tracing over her back. She shifted nearer to him, suddenly needing the closeness.

“You okay?” Tommy whispered to her in the dark. When she didn’t respond right away, his voice grew a little strained with worry. “Lucy?”

“‘M okay,” she said, nestling her head more firmly on his chest, eyes still watching Jessie carefully. They could not talk while she was in the room with them. At least not really.

She ached pleasantly between her legs from having him buried inside her but only a few moments ago. And while the pleasure from the orgasm he’d given her was still rushing through her veins, she was coming down from it rapidly, crashing back to earth in an unpleasant plunge.

It would appear that Lizzie’s pregnancy had more or less killed a lot of the enjoyment that threesomes once held for her. She’d felt an unfamiliar surge of anxiety as they’d taken Jessie to bed, the kind that sex normally helped to dull. But this time the tumultuous, overwhelming feelings only seemed to grow as she watched Tommy fuck their new lover. Even though he’d kept his promise and not emptied himself inside of Jessie, the threat of yet another unintended accident from their liaison had set her so on edge that she found it almost impossible to fully lose herself even in Tommy’s familiar kisses and touches.

She was pretty sure that he was able to sense her nervousness, but whether he was able to guess the actual reason, or thought that she was just anxious because this was the first threesome they’d had since what had happened with Luca, she wasn’t sure. Either way, despite Jessie being the primary focus of the evening, he was being notably attentive towards her, eyes constantly darting over to check on her throughout, warm mouth seeking out her skin in attempts to pull her out of her own head.

He was looking at her that same way now, a slight crease forming between his brows. Lucy offered him a weak smile that only caused the look of concern to deepen, his other arm joining the first in wrapping around her so that he was hugging her tightly. Lucy squeezed him back, closing her eyes and burying her face in his chest. As if by doing so she could somehow hide away from the entire world.

∗ ∗ ∗

Tommy left his meeting with Arthur Bigge in high spirits. It had taken some convincing, but all his conditions had been met. Everything was going according to plan.

Well, not everything. Lucy was still worrying him. She was doing considerably better than she had been during their holiday, but she still wasn’t wholly herself.

She used to smile and laugh so easily. Even at the absolute worst of his jokes, or with the smallest little bit of teasing, and he could have her giggling, trying to shield it behind one of her hands even as her mossy green eyes lit up, entire face crinkling with mirth.

But nowadays, a melancholic aura had draped over her, seeming to cling to her skin, casting a film of sorrow over her eyes. Of course Tommy did not expect her to go back to the way that things were before Luca. But it killed him to see her so despondent and broken.

He missed hearing her laugh.

What he would give to make it all better for her. To pull the sadness out of her eyes. Take it into himself, if he had to. Just so long as she didn’t have to carry it anymore.

She was still having nightmares and the occasional panic attack, as was to be expected. He had been worried originally that all the work that came along with preparing for the election would cause her too much stress. Especially with how fragile she still was. But if anything the work seemed to help, so he let her be.

But her comments about how he should marry Lizzie had struck a nerve in him, planting a seed of dread in his chest. He had always assumed if he were to ever marry again after Grace, it would be to Lucy. No one else. Especially not Lizzie.

He had meant what he’d said. He wasn’t letting her go. He’d rather burn his reputation and even the entire bloody company to the ground before he even considered something like that. But his Lucy seemed incapable of understanding that, and he was beginning to grow more and more worried that no matter how much he tried to reassure her, she was doubting her place at his side.

When he first brought up the idea of running for MP, she had asked him what was to become of her position as his assistant after he took office. The question had taken him aback. It had seemed so obvious to him that she would come with him. He’d hardly given it any real thought. Wherever he went, so did she. That was how things had always been, and he had no intention of changing them. Her worries seemed only somewhat abated when he smiled and coyly told her that MPs still needed assistants. It wasn’t long before she was fretting over the possibility of rumors spreading regarding their relationship and tarnishing his reputation.

As if his reputation was not already drenched in blood and mud.

He’d just grinned and kissed her temple, trying to appear relaxed and unbothered by any of it. Hoping that if he did, it would help to soothe her.

“Most politicians are sleeping with their secretaries, love. We won’t exactly be unique in that regard,” he’d told her. It seemed to have calmed her concerns enough. At least for the moment.

Adjusting the grip on his briefcase, he pushed out of the door and stepped into the crisp fresh air. Glancing around, he frowned when he didn’t spot Lucy on the bench where he’d left her before going in for the meeting. Bigge had wanted to meet with just him alone, and while Tommy had been inclined to kick up a fuss about it until he let Lucy accompany him, she’d insisted that he shouldn’t risk irritating Bigge just so she could be in the room while they struck their deal.

He hadn’t been particularly happy about it, but ultimately he had to admit that she had a point.

Looking around, a beat of panic tightened in his throat at no sight of her distinctive crimson hair. His heart started to pound hard in his chest. No. No, no, no, no…he’d just left her there for a second, she’d been armed, there were dozens of people around, surely she couldn’t have been just snapped up right off the street…

His head swiveled around, scanning the people passing by him. Maybe he’d just missed her. She was so short, it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that he’d just lost her in the crowd of people.

He was just beginning to properly panic when he heard his voice at his elbow.

“How did it go?”

He whirled, eyes wide, chest still heaving with the startings of his panic attack, to find her standing there none the worse for wear, black coat pulled in tight around her.

Relief hit him like a blast to the face, and it took all his self control not to seize her in his arms and squeeze her tight to him. Instead he just let out a deep breath, shoulders relaxing. His eyes closed as he steadied himself, taking the time to remind himself that she was there and she was fine.

He opened his eyes again to find her still looking up at him, head cocked curiously. “Where were you?” he demanded, tone perhaps a bit sharper than he’d intended.

“I got bored, so I went for a walk.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s just…you weren’t here and I…” he huffed. “It’s alright. C’mon,” he indicated with his head towards the car that he’d parked on the edge of the curb. He held open the door for her, then slipped in after she’d gotten settled in the passenger seat. Setting his briefcase down and closing the door behind him, he turned to look at her. There was an odd bulge in the front of her coat. His eyes narrowed. The bulge twitched. “What’s that?”

Lucy clutched her coat tighter to her body, blinking up at him innocently. “What’s what?”

“What’s wrong with your coat?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her coat meowed. Tommy raised an eyebrow. Lucy pouted, letting the garment fall open to reveal a tiny little black and orange tortoiseshell kitten hidden underneath, blinking up at him with scrutinizing green eyes.

“What the bloody hell is that?”

Lucy stroked the little animal’s head. “It’s a kitten, Tommy. Surely you’ve heard of them before.”

He rolled his eyes. “I know what a kitten is, Lucy. What’s it doing tucked in your coat?”

“I heard her crying in the alley behind the bench I was sitting at. And when I went to look, she was soaking wet and shivering all alone in this little box. I couldn’t just leave her there.”

“The fuck are we going to do with a stray kitten, Luce?”

She shrugged. “We can keep her at the house. She could help with the mice problem.”

“We don’t have a mice problem.”

“And now that we have a cat, we never will.”

He eyed the kitten warily, still feeling like she was sharply analyzing him. Her little tail flicked back and forth, paws kneading at Lucy’s thighs. When Lucy scratched at the top of her head, she angled her face up, and batted at her playfully with one soft paw. Lucy giggled.

Tommy looked up sharply at the sound, biting the inside of his cheek to try to maintain his serious facade even as he felt himself soften at the sight of her smiling down at the cat.

“And you immediately assumed that I’d be alright with this?” he asked, the amusement obvious in his voice.

“You don’t have much of a choice.” Lucy flashed him a grin before her attention returned to the kitten, who’d curled up into a ball on her lap. Tommy raised an eyebrow, fond smile threatening to break containment as it tugged on the edges of his lips.

“No?”

Lucy looked up at him, a challenge entering her eyes. “You knocked someone else up.”

He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. “You know what–that’s fair.”

She snickered, leaning forward to peck his cheek to let him know that there was no real bite to her words. Tugging off one of his gloves, he held his hand out to the cat. She sniffed at his knuckles, whiskers twitching with consideration, and then rubbed her cheek against his hand.

“She likes you.”

“Mm.” He gave her a few scratches under the chin, begrudgingly admitting to himself that the kitten was pretty fucking cute. And Lucy was right; the least he could do was let her keep the cat. “We’ll have to get her checked out by the vet before we take her home.”

“Of course. Who knows what she might’ve gotten into living on the streets. Poor baby.”

Tommy let his hand stroke over the kitten’s back. She was so little, he could probably have fit her in one palm when she was all curled up. He felt a slight buzz under his hand as she started purring. He could feel Lucy watching them both fondly.

“So it went well?”

“Hm?”

“The meeting with Bigge. Did it go alright?”

He smiled at her softly. “Yes; it went alright.”

Her face lit up, leaning into him. “Good.”

He turned his face to catch her lips with his, kissing her gently in celebration.

Between them, the kitten meowed.

∗ ∗ ∗

“Don’t you dare.”

Lucy grinned to herself as she approached Tommy’s office, hearing his voice even before she pushed open the heavy wooden door. She was greeted with the sight of the kitten perched on his desk, her little paw batting his box of matches closer and closer to the edge, her head cocked with intrigue.

Her green eyes peered over at him, holding his gaze, and promptly batted the box onto the floor. Tommy sighed, reaching across to scoop the little monster up and plop her down onto his lap. “You’re gonna be a little troublemaker, aren’t you?” But he was smiling to himself, a dimple appearing in his cheek when the kitten meowed in agreement.

Lucy smiled as she stepped fully into the office, walking over to set down a fresh stack of papers onto his desk. “Need you to sign these.” She collapsed back into a chair across from him as he plucked up a pen.

Her hand raised to rest against the side of her face as she watched him. With every passing day, the election drew nearer, and with it, her anxiety grew.

She’d been keeping an ear to the ground, regarding anything that might hinder him winning. But so far, with all the careful bribing and other methods of rigging that they’d implemented holding strong, it seemed like it would be an easy path to victory.

But there were some rumblings regarding Lizzie and the pregnancy that had started to spread. Lucy was pretty sure that they could keep them suppressed at least until the election was over. But not indefinitely.

It was going to become a problem.

She supposed it was almost funny, in a way. How being unmarried with an illegitimate child was likely to cause more harm to his reputation than being a notorious gangster.

They needed to address it. Figure out what they were going to do. And the longer that they took, the more damage the whole situation was likely to cause.

The kitten jumped into her lap, curling up with a soft purr. Lucy let her hand stroke mindlessly through her black and orange fur.

“Tommy?”

He looked up at her through the glinting lenses of his glasses, eyebrow raised, papers still clutched between his fingers.

“Yes?”

She’d been reluctant to bring up the subject ever since he so thoroughly shut her down the last time over it. But if she was being truly honest with herself, that wasn’t the only reason why she’d so willingly let it go.

She didn’t want him to marry Lizzie. And she sure as hell did not want to let him go.

We’ve still got some time. We don’t need to do anything about it yet.

She swallowed hard, feeling like the worst, most selfish scum on the earth, even as she forced a wobbly smile on her face.

“Never mind.”

∗ ∗ ∗

Time passed at seemingly the speed of light. And before she knew it, she was standing next to Tommy, the rest of the family–except for Lizzie who had to wait outside with the baby–crowded around him. They were all waiting with baited breath as the results of the election were announced over the loudspeaker. Lucy could feel her guts twisting nauseatingly inside her with nerves, heart leaping into her throat.

It had been an insane handful of months, and they’d all seemingly passed within the blink of an eye. She didn’t even know where all the time had gone.

Not long before the election took place, Lizzie gave birth to a baby girl, already bestowed the name Ruby by Polly before her arrival into the world.

And oh, did Tommy love that little girl.

It was heartwarming to see him fall so deeply in love with her, and every moment spent watching him with her made Lucy’s heart jump.

But God, did it also hurt.

She kept her melancholy and jealousy over the gorgeous little family he now had with Lizzie tucked down deep and away, where no one would ever find it. Ruby was a sweet baby, and she deserved nothing but good things in life. And Lucy did love her. Enough that she was more than prepared to walk away forever if she had to in order to give that girl a chance at growing up with a proper family around her.

She knew it made Tommy sad, to not be able to see her all the time. Ruby and Lizzie still lived at the home Tommy had bought for them, and while he visited when he could, he still did not get to see his daughter as often as he would if she lived at Arrow House.

They still had not had the conversation about what to do regarding that situation long-term. She’d tried to bring up the idea of him and Lizzie getting married again a handful of times, especially after Ruby’s birth, but Tommy still wouldn’t hear of it.

A part of her was worried that, despite the promising polls, his personal life would hinder his victory. And it would all be her fault. Because she had been selfish and decided to try to hold onto him, even though the selfless thing–the responsible thing–would have been to let him go so he could build a proper personal life to go along with his new ambitions.

A huge breath of relief left her when his name was announced over the loudspeaker, a wide smile quickly replacing the look of apprehension that had been there a moment prior. She hugged Tommy back tightly in celebration when he engulfed her in his arms, briefly forgetting that she was trying to behave more distantly towards him in public. Like a mere colleague rather than a lover. To try to save his reputation before the rumor mill fully caught wind of their affair and ran with it.

“I now declare Thomas Shelby to be the new Labor Member of Parliament for the constituency of Birmingham South,” the announcer boomed for all to hear. Not just in the room that they were all crowded in to hear the results, but across the entire bloody country.

Cheers erupted, everyone in the family swarming around him, all smiles and uninhibited joy. They soon made their way to the doors, out to where Lizzie was waiting with Ruby clutched in her arms. Tommy beamed as he scooped Ruby up, lifting her high above his head, the baby squealing and giggling in delight. Lucy smiled at the display and the baby’s happy coos as her father adjusted her to rest on his hip and carry her with him down the rest of the stairs. But her smile quickly fell when she spotted Lizzie flashing a truly snide smirk at Jessie where she was standing in the crowd. A tendril of trepidation coiled itself around her, wondering if she would be on the receiving end of such a look sooner or later. Lizzie had been behaving decently towards her as of late, but she was not fool enough to expect that to last.

She followed Tommy and Lizzie down the stairs, lingering back to let them both go first, walking side by side with their baby while she trailed behind them; alone.

And despite their current string of good fortune, of endless possibilities and new doors opening up before them, she found herself struggling to muster up any real hope for the future.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Part

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #my ocs #my fanfiction #lucy winters #lucy winters x tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #love me where i'm most ruined #lily writes

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mcytegg · 7 days ago

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What were your thoughts on the devotions in today's stream?

ummm. okay so its complicated LMFAO cause like okay. u need to keep in mind my inherent bias for mapicc in general bc i recognize his wrongdoings and flaws, i just dont care in the slightest. like its still mapicc and i support his rights and wrongs always.

on one hand i do always enjoy dysfunctional and codependent relationships and friendships in general, like i love toxic codependency a lot so obviously i fw whatever the hell zam and mapicc have going on. i also just........support mapicc always. like as long as he is doing what makes him happy. or what he thinks will make him happy, i support him simply bc he is mapicc. even if he has dumbass fucking ideas, theyre usually funny anyways so yk its whatever as long as hes doing what he thinks is best for himself.

on the flipside, i do very much recognize theyre both treating each other very unfairly and i dont think theyre able to communicate everything they need to. it annoys me when people spam in chat "just communicate" bc mapicc avoids talking abt his own feelings and struggles openly in a Normal Way like the plague and zam himself cant FULLY and TRULY be honest abt how he feels w anyone bc he cant even do it w himself. there are so many feelings and thoughts zam has that he struggles HEAVILY to deal w on his own so him being unable to be completely honest w anyone else, even if unintentionally, just makes sense. like no matter who it is— whether its someone he trusts deeply like mapicc, someone who pushes and prods him like kab, or someone who is patient and gentle w him like derap. its not smt that can just be Solved just like that bc its BEEN an issue throughout multiple seasons.

i enjoy analyzing and picking apart the devotions dynamic bc i love them both as characters very dearly and i like their toxic thing. i like that theyre fucked up and codependent but i also recognize that its just very much not healthy for either of them, and i can understand why others may not fw their dynamic like i do since i specifically Enjoy codependendency as a trope LOL

#lifesteal spoilers #devotion duo #prince zam #mapicc #im very attached to them both on an individual level so i love devotions like a lot #i just know im not the MOSTTT informed on them so i just support everyone elses posts on them LMFAO #like i love them but theyre not My Guys #but i have enjoyed the drama we have gotten between them the last few days ^-^#i feel the same amt of attachment to both devotions and sunkissed so im chilling either way #tho i will admit im a bit more partial to subzam #subz arriving just immediately to save zam changed my brain chemistry #zam turns into such a bumbling eager puppy whenever subz is involved LMFAO #like even today he seemed so Different w subz then anyone ive seen him w so far tbh

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sparrowrye · 8 months ago

Text

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A3 part 6

Synopsis: Alastor disappeared for 8 years, leaving you confused, crushed, and angry. You spent those years building up your new self and protecting the haven from dangers left and right. What will happen when he returns to the new changes? Will he return anytime soon? Could you even go back to the way things were?

Previous part

Part 6: sweet nothings

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I let out a groan as I stretched my arms out. My eyes snapped open to see Alastor still here and sitting in a chair by the empty fireplace. The evening sun was streaming through the large window and making his red pop out all the more.

His eyes were already on me when I looked him over. He placed his book on the side table and stood, his shadow lifting his cane for him to take. It took two strides to cross the room to kneel beside the couch.

I rolled over on my back as a red claw gently caressed my cheek and unstuck a strand of hair on the side of my face. When had he put a blanket over me? I pulled it off most of the way from being overheated.

"How did you sleep, dear?" he asked, voice crackling like his radio. His cane rested on his thigh.

"Not bad." I ran my hand up his sleeve to cover his hand, our fingers shifting so they could half interlace against my face. It was satisfying to stare up at his face.

He leaned down to press a gentle kiss on my forehead.

Beautiful darling, I heard him say.

He moved lower and pressed his lips onto mine. I leaned further into the pillow and found the back of his head with my other hand. His hair tickled my cheeks where it fell.

A string of fear pulsed through my mind at the thought of him leaving. I wanted so badly to keep him at a safe distance yet that had proven futile in the end. I couldn't resist him. Not now, and not when I first developed feelings for him. He somehow always managed to rope me back in.

I wasn't so sure I wanted to untangle myself.

****

Alastor spent the next few days doting on his soulmate. It felt like he was basking in warm sunlight on a breezy summer afternoon every time you were in the room together. Your magic melded so perfectly where it had been jagged before. It was comforting.

Though it was bittersweet.

Now that the bond had connected fully again, he was able to hear the little doubts that plagued your mind. You weren't shielding him in the way he was shielding you. His...other...feelings were still hidden safely behind a wall. You didn't need to see those.

You were highly skeptical of his affections but you never stopped him. He noticed the little devils making more frequent appearances around you. If he left you alone, they were at your side by the time he came back. If he barely turned his head, one of them was appearing from underfoot to grip at your pant leg.

Nym was the more intriguing one. She had a tough, rowdy spirit and seemed to drag her brother with her wherever she went. The boy was smaller than her and ran to his adoptive mother if he feared Nym would bring him somewhere muddy or had a small creature in her palms.

Reagan still hated him. He never cared for her to begin with but she lived under the same roof and caused plenty of problems. If it wasn't for his soulmate, Alastor would've corrected her bad manners long ago.

All three devils were in the kitchen while you made dinner. He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before excusing himself outside through the back door. He stood at the corner of the house furthest from the haven — a place no one would ever be looking — then leaned against the wood grasping at his chest.

He pulled his bow tie loose and gripped his microphone until it bent under his strength. His breathing was erratic, his legs felt numb, and his claws were frozen in whatever position they were currently in. He tried to force his heart to slow its beating but his magic was difficult to reign in.

He had been suffering from these random panic attacks for days. They came on without warning. Horrid memories and anxieties resurfaced, along with bad possible scenarios. He had to get a hold of this panic. Every time he grew more panicked, his magic would slip away from his fingers—the one thing he relied on for centuries, the one thing that made him feel safe and in control.

A thought came to mind and his panic flew away. You had managed to regain control of your magic with a magic-restraining headband on; back when Blackwater was still alive. Alastor had been yanked into the darkness too soon for him to properly search your mind for how you did it. Maybe you would allow him to look back in that memory.

Dinner was awkward, as expected. The two of you sat on the long ends of the table with the devils in between. Nym sat on the chair adjacent to Alastor while Thatcher and Reagan sat closest to you.

Thatcher liked to talk—whenever his sister wasn't talking over him—and Nym liked to stare. She looked away whenever Alastor caught her observing him.

Reagan was silent unless you asked her a direct question. After the first two, you left her alone and listened to the younger pairs' wild adventures in the haven.

After dinner, Alastor watched from the corner of the kitchen as you and the tiny children cleaned up. Reagan was quick to retreat to her room for the night. Alastor would make a comment about that later.

He focused his attention on you as you stood behind the pair washing and drying the dishes. Thatcher liked to play with the water and soap while Nym preferred to dry, probably from her love for mud and anything dirty.

He was surprised to see Thatcher placed a cluster of soap bubbles on her arm. She tried flicking them off but when that didn't work, she angrily took a towel to it. You laughed and placed a gentle kiss on both of their heads.

Something moved in Alastor.

He wasn't sure what exactly. Was it love? Jealousy? Adoration? What he did know was that it made his shoulders less tense, made the edges of panic fade away. His smile was genuine when you glanced over your shoulder at him.

After the dishes had been cleaned, dried, and stored away, you sent the two to their bedroom. He wrapped an arm around your waist and basked in your warmth when you returned the gesture, leaning in so your bodies were comfortably against each other. It felt so good to be able to touch you again.

"I need to speak with Reagan first." You said after a quick kiss. He grimaced at the name but unstuck his claw from your waist. The sooner you spoke to the insolent child, the sooner he would have you for the rest of the night.

He waited in the bedroom, coat off, and glasses on as he read through the abstracts you had made in his absence. Your handwriting was difficult to read but the farther he read in a book, the better it looked.

His foot tapped the floor repeatedly and his eyes kept jumping up to the clock on the mantle. How long did it take to speak to Reagan? It had been thirty minutes already.

He glanced at his cane resting against his leg to ensure it was still there.

Footsteps creaked on the floorboards. His eyes snapped up to the door in anticipation. Upon seeing your head poke through the door, he sprung to his feet and glided over to meet you.

His mind touched yours as his arms wrapped around your back. You let his mind pass through the shields and he shoved away the uneasy feelings Reagan had caused. He felt amusement and annoyance from you at his action.

When you tried to push further past his walls, he placed a firm kiss on your lips as a distraction. He didn't want you to see the building anxieties and tension he had been hiding for weeks since his return. He knew that if you felt him shielding from you too firmly that you would grow upset with him and ask questions.

He threaded his claws through your hair, practically bending you backwards from the effort to be physically close, and searched your mind. It took all of three seconds for you to notice what he was doing and broke the kiss. You pushed him out of your mind and unhooked his arms from your back.

"Tell me what's going on." You crossed your arms.

"What do you mean?" His distractions had failed. How did you even feel he was searching her mind? He had been painstakingly light.

"You keep trying to go deep in my mind but you won't let me into yours."

Ah, so he hadn't been doing a good job at hiding it. Your magic perception must've gotten stronger in his absence. He felt both pride and disappointment knowing he wouldn't be able to hide much from you soon.

"I have allowed you in my mind," he argued gently. He glanced over to see his cane still resting on the chair.

"Not deep. Not as deep as I allow you. So why?"

His eyes left yours as he claws closed around nothing. He summoned his cane into his hand and tried to find the proper words. He felt your mind moving softly around his, not yet trying to push through the barrier. It was something he had done to you so many times before.

He was waiting, expecting you, to say something more to move the conversation along but you didn't. You waited in silence, eyes pinned on him and nowhere else. It was as if he was on a dark stage with a single spotlight on him. Usually he didn't mind it but tonight was different.

"You have your fears, I have my own," he finally said. General, not too specific, but still revealing in a way.

"What fears do you have?" Your question was genuine and not at all accusatory. Everyone had fears. Yet you truly thought he had none.

"Leaving you." His red eyes flicked up to yours for your reaction. Your ears perked up on the sides of your head. Your mouth hung open and a single hand was hovering over your stomach, as if you were debating on touching something, on touching him.

He wanted you to touch him.

"But...why won't you let me in?" you asked next.

"I do not want you to be fearful of my absence again. If I fear it, you will too."

You let out a sigh and took a step closer. Your gentle claw laid carefully on top of the one on his cane while the other gently grabbed his other arm. His hand came up to rest lightly on your back.

"I'm not as fragile as I once was," you said, your eyes scanning his body from his waist to his antlers. They settled down to meet his eyes, "You don't need to protect me from everything."

For a while nothing was said. Your eyes never parted, drinking in each other's gaze after such a long time apart. He noticed then that you were right. You were looking at him differently. Before, you always had a look of anxious anticipation or fear. Now, you looked at him with curiosity and even a fan of confidence. You had grown in the past eight years.

You retracted your hands from his body and he instinctively pulled you against him, afraid to lose you a second time. You let out a small laugh and patted his chest lightly. "I'm just doing something. I'll be right back."

You pushed off his unwillingly arm and walked over to the dresser where a radio sat. You switched it on and turned the dial until you found the station you were looking for. Soft, slow jazz music filled the red room (Unforgettable- Nat King Cole). You kept it at a decent level where you could both hear it but not disturb the children across the hall.

The low piano tunes danced overhead as you sauntered back over to him. You gripped his red staff and lightly pulled his wrist up, successfully peeling off his tight claw from his crutch. You placed his hand at his side and moved to lean the cane against one of the chairs.

You returned to him a moment later, his hands moving instinctively into a waltz position. Your claws were so thin and small compared to his thick, red, sturdy ones. But that didn't lessen your comforting grip. He noticed the way your gaze lingered on your intertwined fingers.

He also noticed the way your pupils widened when they finally looked up at him. His other hand was comfortably on your waist, your own resting on his shoulder. Had you grown taller? He could vaguely remembering stretching his arm more to touch your back when you first learned to dance with him.

He noticed the shadows mimicking the dancing movements along the wall.

He felt a small spike of nervousness from you as you took the first few steps of the waltz. He could feel that it had been some time since you last danced like this with anyone. It was both a sadness and comfort.

He had been stuck in darkness but you had to live on, remaining loyal without an explanation to his disappearance. You had chosen him as he had chosen you. From the big actions like killing Blackwater to the small things like never dancing with someone in his absence, you had chosen him.

His smile grew. His lips were closed as he stared lovingly into your soft eyes. They were the only ones he ever wanted to look at him. They were the only ones that deserved to look at him.

He drunk in your presence, your stare, your love, your touch, your everything. He waited for so long to experience another dance with you. Why had he been so stubborn with you before?

The song ended and you both came to a slow stop. Another song came on, one just as soft and slow as the first, and you continued the gentle waltz (moonlight serenade - glen miller).

Nothing was needed to be said. You basked in each other's mind, unable and unwilling to pull away. You threaded your souls together like stitching a quilt, careful and slow and methodical. No rush. Just peace. Just warmth. Just love.

At one point you laid your head on his chest. Love and adoration swelled inside. He felt like a cup overflowing with something. He was utterly shocked to find himself coming close to the feeling of crying.

He had done plenty of that in the darkness but out here? Why was such a happy moment making him want to cry? It seemed counterintuitive.

You rubbed your head against the red fabric and let out a heavy sigh. He slowly let your hand down and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, allowing you enough room to wrap your own around his waist.

You swayed from side to side now, no stepping required to break your concentration on him. Your mind filled him to every inch and centimeter of his being. He could feel you in his fingers, in his cloved toes, in his wretched tail, in his ears, and every mind space he had.

There was you and only you.

Until your glow dulled as you nearly fell asleep standing up. He hummed a laugh and felt another spike of something strong coming from you. You pushed your face further into his chest.

"Come love," he whispered. He leaned down and lifted your legs, his other hand holding your back securely. He brought you over to the bed and, before placing you down, snapped his fingers to switch you into your usual night attire.

He pulled the covers over your shoulders and moved to get himself ready for bed. Your hand grabbed his and he gently tapped it. "I'll be right back."

He noticed your watchful gaze never left him as he walked to the other side of the room. He snapped his fingers again to adorn himself in different clothes. His cloved feet touched the soft carpet underneath.

He slipped under the covers and you attached yourself to his side instantaneously. He wrapped his arms securely around your back and nuzzled his face into your soft hair. He sucked in your sweet, earthy scent and let out a heavy, relieving sigh. You followed suit.

"Goodnight my dear," he placed a kiss on your head.

"Goodnight," you mumbled. He began to hum a familiar tune and felt your conscious fighting to stay awake to enjoy the feeling of his chest vibrating against your touch.

I love you.

I love you too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

It's been a long time coming...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette @masochist-downfall

#demi demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #soulmate au #soulmates #reqs open

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crispycreambacon · 8 months ago

Text

Ending April with a small parting gift. I’m gonna miss this.

Anyways, an announcement of my own.

The short of it

I’m leaving the Watcher fandom. Don’t worry, I won’t be unfollowing anyone, but I will be ceasing the creation of art for Watcher and interaction with the community at large. Thank you all for this short but meaningful ride. Feel free to unfollow me if you were here for Watcher art, and for those who stick around…

Thank you :]

I hope to not disappoint with this new era of mine.

The long of it

It’s been a couple of days since a certain channel dropped an announcement that imploded its fandom. It was… a mess. A lot—and I mean a lot—of us didn’t handle the news well, and we made that known to everyone. The impact was so massive that YouTubers, who are nowhere near the niche that Watcher operates under, covered the situation, and some of them explained very well why the decision went over so poorly. Meanwhile some of them made fun of the situation, and some were just there for the clicks, but that’s the cycle of YouTube drama for you.

With the amount of ears waiting for even a peep out of their mouths, Watcher couldn’t ignore the backlash any longer and released an apology video three days after the announcement. By all accounts, it was a pretty good response. The reception was mixed, but it was definitely more well-received than their first video, and they actually listened to their fans who gave them valid criticism over the sudden shift to a streaming service.

However…

For as much as I appreciate their response, I still can’t find it in myself to continue following Watcher. I really mean it when I say this disaster soured any enjoyment I had for them. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to watch them again for a long time without thinking about this situation or remembering the people they have hurt, even if unintentionally, through their poor execution of a business decision.

Do I believe they could’ve pulled off moving their content to a streaming service? Absolutely. However, so many factors doomed this decision and their announcement from the start from them believing that $5.99/month was “affordable to everyone” (seriously?) to them insisting that this was for the fans even though the fans have vocalized that they were never there for the high production value. They were there because the three guys who run Watcher were enjoyable!

I feel like if they had been honest about the fact that the TV quality they are aiming for was more for themselves than anyone–hell, it’s the mission statement in their About page, and, I don’t know, considered the idea that $6 is not cheap, especially for international fans, people wouldn’t have gotten so angry at them. Now, there are still numerous issues plaguing this business model, but to go through all of the arguments would require a separate post, and I’ve already expended too much energy on this situation. Needless to say, Watcher has burnt their bridges, and it will take a while before they can build them back up again, let alone get people to trust them enough to cross them.

On the other hand, I can’t blame Watcher fully for my departure. Despite my heavy disagreement with their initial decision, I understand why they thought this decision was a good idea in the first place as YouTube is a very unstable career path, and it would rather hurt its creators with its relentless demonetization, censorship and restrictive guidelines than give up just a tiny amount of its profit. Besides, they’re in control of their content, and they could do what they want with it even if their fans disagreed with them.

Speaking of the fans, my god. The situation revealed a side of the fandom that I never thought I would see, but in hindsight, I should have seen it coming. To see fans resort to anti-Asian racism and death threats so quickly was extremely heartbreaking, and as an Asian person, it made me feel very unsafe and unwelcome in the community.

Moreover, using Steven as a scapegoat to absolve Ryan and Shane of any wrongdoing was unfortunately a very common response. Yes, he is the CEO, and yes, his series being centered on traveling and eating expensive food really doesn’t paint him in a positive light, but need I remind you that RYAN AND SHANE ARE GROWN ADULTS. They’re the founders of Watcher, and they both have to agree to the initial plan for it to be implemented. You can’t assume that Steven was a boogeyman terrorizing your precious little boys just based on a 15-minute video. You don’t know what’s going on behind the scenes.

All of this to say that the initial announcement combined with how the community reacted violently to the announcement really nipped my interest in Watcher in the bud. It was a shame too because I really did love Watcher, and I still do. Had it not been for the time I invested in following them, I wouldn’t have made great friends, regained the joy in creating art–even reviving a hobby/skill that I assumed was long dead, and had a reason to be able to laugh or smile even in terrible days. I truly am grateful for Watcher, and I do not regret ever getting into them at all. However, I think it’s time for me to go.

Thank you all for this weird and wonderful ride, but at some point, you’ll have to hop off. I just didn’t expect to hop off it so soon.

#Back to hiatus I go (for real this time) I’ll see y’all in 3 weeks 🫡#I’m more sad than anything #But alas we move forward #Thank you everyone #It was fun while it lasted #the professor #puppet history #watcher #watcher entertainment #we are watcher #art #chris p fried art #chris p fried rambles

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stareiiez · 8 months ago

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𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 --- one.

simon ( ghost ) riley x female reader.

note: first time writing for the COD lovers. tell me how I did :). please be gentle and kind to me omg.

content : dark?? ghost. modern settings. mentions of suicide. obsession. stalking. unhealthy attachments. smut in later chapters. alcohol. dark topics. this is just my version of haunting adeline but for ghost. adult reader. MDNI. 3.6k words.

Rain streaked down your large window's pane, clear warm waters raced each other down thin plane glass. Each droplet getting bigger than the others that trickled downward the more liquid each harmless little drop of water that was collected further speeding the streaks to drop down onto the sill. If you were delusional you would have compared yourself to the naive raindrops that beaded your window in the dead of night. You, the perfect round thing, sitting in paranoia and harm's way as it escalated its determined way to collect you into its grasp and swallow you whole.

You, losing yourself to the drowning and suffocating heat of entrapment that fear had on your throat, on your mind, on your entire being. You could always blame yourself. You could blame your idiotic choices for provoking this rapid current. You could blame yourself for never calling the police as much as you should. Not taking their advice when they did give it to you when you were swaddled in that horrid-smelling grey blanket one of them would provide for comfort when they would arrive on your property at late hours. Instead, you ignored them, ignored your normal conscious thoughts that warned; and tried to steer you away from this danger that was always lurking in your mind. You welcomed the risk. The pure risk of knowing who dared to turn your once perfect, as perfect it could be for an adult, mental cognitive thinking into pure garbage that was feeding its appetite for more delicious terror.

It's why you ignored the large palm print that didn't get smudged away by those racing water streams you had chosen to watch instead of taking in the details or gawking at how massive and thick all five fingers were spread out on the middle half of the glass. The creases of the print's fingers were perfect, if you even squinted and shoved your face against the glass you could try and see the swirls of fingerprints on each end of the finger markings left behind. A telltale sign that your attacker that plagued your thoughts, and your surroundings had been here. Whether it was during the day or he was just a few minutes ago, you'd never figure it out. You had the balls to not turn and flee this time, this time if he even had the balls to still be lurking in the thunderstorm outside; or in the walls of your own house. You wouldn't run and hide like you did before.

The only thing you however did not ignore? Was the blaring light of your cellphone and the harsh vibrations of it against the smooth palm of your hand? Slight vibrations had your nerves fire off in adrenaline-soaked supersonic booms underneath your skin that had your eyes jump away from the staring contest you were having with the imprinted glass to now move on to your bright phone screen. The contact name glared up at you and without another beat of annoying buzzing. You answered the call as if it was on cue.

"Hello?"

"Hello ?? Earth to __ ." A pair of fingers snapped in front of your face in rapid beats rivaling a hummingbird's rhythm. The sharp snaps were enough to have your pupils focus back in and realign on your friend in front of you. Cheeks flushed in a small wave of rich pinks when you realized you weren't listening in on what plans your friend was trying to make with you for the only night that you were free for, ever since you got done unpacking at your old relative's loft. The quiet sounds of distant music coming from a speaker in your home, the sensation of heat still seeping into the palm of your hand from the mug of tea you were once sipping on. It all brought you back to the very present, the red-haired fire engine female in front of you. Insistent brown eyes glared at your warm face, irritation present on dyed red brows.

Tonight was the one chance you had to have some unwinding to gain some energy to get back to your life of being stuck behind a desk and computer when Monday rolled its ugly head once again. "Sorry. . . um, what time were you saying you wanted to meet up again?" Your lips quirked in a sheepish grin when your friend's lips twitched into an annoyed scowl.

"9. Veronica and I are taking the Jeep and you're driving to meet us at that dive bar, Vaqueros. Then we hit the club down the street after we finish our pre-game." As if someone in your mid-twenties can handle your liquor without consequences anymore. You weren't sixteen and sneaking Fireball and Kahula from your mom's pantry in the dead of night and trying to make fun and new cocktails for yourself and the girls who were sleeping over for the night.

You swallowed your excuses of trying to back out of tonight and stay home with nothing but a tub of ice cream and a 2000s coming-of-age comedy movie. You wouldn't dare to even annoy or inconvenience your best friend, Izzy, out of canceling plans; when you've already pulled the same song and dance of lying about too many things in the past, just to get out of a social event. Your eyes drifted to the clock on the wall behind Izzy, the little and big hands reading 7:30 pm. Way too early to lie about how you have to feed a nonexistent pet you have, or how you have to call your mother and tell her how much you miss her.

Your eyes darted back to her face. A soft exhale left your lips, fine. Fine, it was one night. One night of fun. One night of drinking yourself into a silly tizz and end up with a headache the next morning when you're nursing yourself with black coffee and the hair of the dog shot you'd make; just to make yourself feel at least decent enough to handle the public again." Right, then you better get going, before you dont have a chance to outdress me tonight." You tease with a forced grin.

The irritation present on Izzy's face seemed to melt immediately when you teased her. Delighted that you hadn't fought and screamed your way out of another outing, she was now her normal ball of sunshine and energy. She put the sun to shame sometimes with the amount of positivity and 'good vibes' that leaked out of her pores in waves of vanilla and champagne perfume. If it wasn't her good vibes, her self-medication of weed by day and alcohol in moderation at night was surely her fuel to stay hyped and chatty.

"As if you could beat my fashion sense. You can't even beat your attention span limit, you hardly even listened when I was talking. I don't think you were even conscious when you answered your door for me."

Another flush of quick embarrassment. You'd curse yourself out later when you were changing into your night clothing. It wasn't your fault, you were tired. Sleeping in a brand new place, in a different part of the city and farther away from the Surburan culdasacs you spent the majority of your life in. It was the quiet and actual sounds of birds chirping without being drowned out by the sounds of cars honking and the cries of the neighbor's newborns at eight am. You were surrounded by nothing but lush evergreen and pine trees that practically swallowed the dark mahogany-colored loft house you now lived in. Jet back iron fencing that interwove around each other in details of swirls traced all around the perimeter of the home; till they met in the middle to swoop and create large gates that protected you from the evergrowing dark and shadows of the trees.

It was nature in its purest form, wild and smelly. Untamed with its inhabitants hunting each other for sport between thick trunks and leaping from branch to branch to escape certain death. It was exhausting.

The trees and greenery surrounding your home had welcomed you and Izzy with gentle winds of pine and earth when she had decided it was about time you get ready and 'try to look like you're enjoying yourself' with your outfit. The sun crested the tops of towering tree tops. Oranges and pinks kissed the blue till it was a wash of vibrant purples, it was a beautiful sight. Just another perk to moving out of gated suburbia. How else could you have sunsets like this without them being ruined by city smog and highrise skylines that tried to rival nature's cacophony of watercolor evenings?

"Text me when you get there!" Izzy's voice chirped out of her rolled-down window when she pulled out of your driveway. The black iron gates swung automatically open once they sensed the cherry red Bug heading out of your property. Your hand was raised, waving the trails of dust and fading notes of Gwen Stefani away till the car was swallowed in the shadows of your private forest.

Finally, finally, could you let your face fall from its forced enthusiasm. Smooth facial features now drooped into a grimace when you turned your back and faced your house. A long groan was released from your lungs. Brows pinching. Eyes screwing up as you let out your dread and nerves about going out tonight. "I should have just told her I had gotten the stomach bug." You muttered to yourself, your hands raised to your scalp. Fingers itching at the roots of your hair in irritation before you finally exhaled. Eyes opening once more with a sense of sad acceptance.

You'll just have a few drinks. Hell, just one fruity drink and you'll slip back out the front door before Izzy and Veronica notice you being gone. Besides, when was the last time you had fun? Pure unfiltered fun? You couldn't remember the last time you even laughed so hard you felt your stomach cramp and your gasps turn into snorts from trying to contain yourself. This will be fun, it'll be good for you to socialize and maybe find a little someone to take home if you are really lucky. The last time you got laid was something you dare not even think about, it felt like years yet in reality it was probably close to six months.

With a shake of your head, you made your way back into your new home. Making sure to lock and deadbolt your front door, you turned to the living room/ kitchen. Rich dark greens of carved wood walls and black marbled flooring that melded with flecks of white in every square tile greeted you. The quiet was still chilling to your bones.

The open expansive windows, which were framed with even more luscious green velvet curtains, exposed you to the eyes of more green trees and sharp limbs of evergreens. At night those branches clawed at your bedroom. Sometimes tapping in a strange rhythm from the smallest breeze that begged you to let them in. Let me play with you. Let me in, I swear I'll be nice and good to you. The forest seemed to whisper. If it even was the trees, you wouldn't be surprised if it was just some random hiker coming by to try and ask for a place to stay in the dead of night if they happened to wake you.

A thousand eyes seemed to be watching you, or it felt like it anyway, when you had decided to stop procrastinating and get dressed in the master bedroom of your home. The windows were drawn open, just for the sheer thought that nature didn't mind a little skin and curves. After all, Eve and the Garden of Eden were very intimate all those thousands of years ago when being naked was the new cool.

You stared at your reflection in the floor-length mirror, judging and scoffing at potential outfit combinations that would fit the dive bar and club scene. Something that still screamed 'sexy' in not over flashy loud look for a backwater bar; but just short and good enough to get the bouncer's approval at the trashiest club you'd be dragged to. Your bed and floor were nearly a mess when you decided to settle on a coppery red outfit. It was a dress that was accentuating the curve of your ass and low on the neckline that hugged your sides and dips with a tasteful flourish. The hem of the dress ended at mid-thigh, the material flowy to let you not walk so straight-legged to risk your dress riding up and flashing a stranger your no-show thong. The color complimented your skin color, a not-too-warm color that seemed casual but the style and length were fun for easy access if you were in a hurry to get fucked in the bathroom at two am.

The Go-Go boots you decided to pair with the dress only elevated the look, letting your thighs and calves do most of the talking for starving eyes to get a good peek at smooth-shaven skin. Your makeup was tasteful, hints of the same copper red were blended onto your eyes with a neutral lip to keep things easy. You weren't trying to look good with all the work. God bless tutorials and Ulta Beauty.

"Have I told you how happy I am you're here?" Izzy gasped out for the third time that night. Her black lipstick peeled into an expressive smile at you, the glitters on her skin she applied had her eyes sparkling even more under the amber lights of the bartop you and your two friends sat at. The crowd of people in the bar made it hard for you to hear her, but you could practically tell how excited she was for tonight.

"About just as much as you told her how hot she looks too," Veronica added, wiggling her eyebrows in approval around the dip of Izzy's hunched figure. Her short-cut hair hid the teasing crinkle in her almond-shaped eyes of hers. Veronica, a childhood friend of yours since kindergarten. Only the years of middle school and your moving to a different school cut the friendship short. It was highschool sophomore year and a quick Instagram follow that had you two thick as thieves once more.

"You both are hot, now let's drink!" You giggled, nudging Izzy's arm with a bashful smile. Her other arm held the second shot of the night all three of you were about to down. The amber liquid smells strong in your nose and on your breath. Whiskey was a sipping drink, but you were here to have fun and regret tomorrow. It was decided in the back of your mind when you meet Izzy and Veronica in the parking lot of the Vaquero's bar.

Their, Izzy's, eager waving and wolf whistles had changed your mind from bailing on your friends for the night; to genuinely having fun in your young adult life.

"To being single and getting fucked or fucked up tonight!" Izzy whooped out, her hand raised high in the air with the single shot gripped between clammy fingers. Veronica hissed through her teeth to shush her, but you couldn't help the loud giggle you let bubble up from your throat.

The eyes on you from grown men and women around you silently judging you were overlooked and cast aside. You didn't give one single fuck, respectfully. Your glass threatened to shatter from impact when you clinked it against hers. The amber whiskey burned so good down your throat when you threw it down with a smile while Izzy whooped out once more after downing her own. She was already leaning over the bartop to wave down the bartender for another drink of choice while you grinned from ear to ear at Veronica. Tonight was your night.

"To being single and getting fucked or fucked up tonight!"

Those words were the first things the male had heard when he swung open both double revolving doors of the dive bar. The low golden light of the bar somehow illuminates the three women who acted like they were celebrating some kind of sorority or bachelorette occasion. Whatever it was, it made the man snort and roll his dark eyes to himself. Places like these weren't the spot for people who tried to be the life of the party in their old age regularly. It was a place for people like him. People that were either no-lifer alcoholics or scumbags hoped to pick up the residential lot lizards that hung around the entrance of the bar every night at 1:30 am. Just hoping to score easy cash on some drunk bastard down bad for the night.

For Simon, it was different. It was business with pleasure. A convenient mix of both that made him a comfortable little regular for Alejandro and his men.

The crowd of people moved around him just so he could find his spot towards the back. Safer that way, just how he liked it. Eagle eyes swept over the customers that mingled with each other or sucked down cool liquor like it was ambrosia. Drunkards hung off women like they were leeches. Grubby, sweaty hands picked and pulled at clothing desperately. They whined like kicked puppies if the women they were unabashedly feeling up were rejecting them with a swift smack of their hands. It didn't stop them from trying time and time again. Another loud cheer came from the crowd, somewhere towards the bar.

Somehow there was enough space between swaying, gyrating bodies to see who was causing so much noise. God was he a thankful man that he just so happened to have his gaze staring where it was. He saw her. Liquid metal that shimmered off smooth skin and sloping shoulders. A walking beauty amongst the gargoyles of humanity.

Full lips on display that are curved into a radiant smile that has his eyes turning a shade darker, and cock giving one heavy twitch in the confines of his jeans.

For Simon, the world has stopped. There is no more bar. There is no crowd of people separating you and him. There is only you and him in his mind. Your laughter which was caused by your friends, was only fuel for his stare. Your laugh caused his heart to escalate from its calm beating to a higher tempo.

He's hot under the collar. You haven't even noticed that someone in the shadows of the bar is staring at you, but he doesn't give a fuck about that. He's staring at you and only you. You and the curves of your thighs and hips that shine under the lights of the bar. You with her sparkling eyes crinkle in amusement at something you're being told. He wants that. He wants to be looked at like that. He wants to know what you find so hilarious that your head is tipped back, exposing your chest and throat to hungry men like him to salivate over. He wonders what your skin would taste like if he sank his teeth into your throat. He wonders if you smell like honey and sin incarnate.

He'd wonder if you were as soft and supple under his scarred palms that beat the life out of pieces of shit that decided to walk the earth.

His line of work would be something he'd never bring home if you were there. He'd shed his skin every time once he crossed the threshold, just so he could bury himself into the deepest, warmest parts of your body. If anyone ever touched you before him, he'd break their fucking fingers into bite-sized bits and feed them the gooey mess with a rusty spoon. If you asked he'd kill himself and be reincarnated into somebody worthy of your love if he wasn't fit for it. But that's the thing. He's all you're ever going to need. He's enough and will be enough. You don't know it yet, but you're already his girl. You are so beautifully unaware that it makes his blood sizzle in his eardrums at the rancid thoughts of you and him together.

His weight shifts to get up off the worn chair he had collapsed into earlier. When he stalls for a brief couple of seconds. Angels sing white noise serendipity when your eyes meet his. What he hopes is his gaze and nothing else that you're focused on so much that it had your own eyes widen a fraction more. He must look like he wants to unhinge his jaws and eat you whole. He likes that. Because he fucking wants to. He's obsessed, and you'll learn that the more time comes between you and him.

When you blink. He'd be gone, him and his bottomless black holes of eyes that drew you in like a crushing state of gravity. He slipped out through the bumping crowd, blending through intoxicated hot vapors to the winding staircase off to the side. He's gone, but the sensation of his hungry eyes on you has yet to leave.

#cod mw2 #ghost cod #cod x reader #cod x female reader #cod x f!reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #simon ghost x reader

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kunikame · 3 months ago

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5 times he thought he was the sun, and the 1 he realized he wasn't. - deuce s.

warnings : mostly deuce centric, angst, fluff, middle school deuce, violence mention, ace trappola, astral imagery and references (ITS MY TRADEMARK TRUST ME OK), im not sorry w/c : 2,448

1. when his mom said so.

it is a universally known fact that deuce spade is a “mama’s boy”. he is anything but ashamed of this, on the contrary, he carries the title with pride. his mother was the one who raised him and took care of him all his life, the least he can do is be proud of that and strive to be the best he can, so her efforts don’t go to waste.

this, he comes to realize in his middle school years, after witnessing his mother crying over his wounds first hand. she had berated him many times for being a “punk” and “gangster” (her words, not his), but he’s never seen her cry, no matter how bad things were.

so he strove to do better.

fueled by the pure and unfiltered shame and guilt pooling at the pit of his stomach, he sat as his mother bandaged his wounds, her tears mixing with the salve and blood streaming down his knuckles. in his defense, the guy totally deserved the beating he got, but he no longer believes it was worth it– not if the end result was his dearly beloved mother shedding tears over him.

the salve stung more than it normally did on that day.

over the next couple weeks he made sure to cut ties with all his friends and avoided getting into unreasonable fights like the bubonic plague. it was a bit hard, he admits, since all middle school kids are assholes who sometimes deserve a nice punch in the face, but he had to hold himself back and be good– an honor student.

as yet another fightless school day ended, a distant memory he seemed to have long forgotten and classified as “not important” resurfaced.

if he remembers correctly, he was about 8 at the time, just having learnt the concept of space and planets and the solar system in geography class. they had a ritual, his mother and him– as they walked home after classes ended hand in hand, tiny deuce would retell his entire day in great detail as his mother listened attentively and added her own comments sometimes. that's when he told her about the sun and how it was the center of everything.

suddenly sweet little deuce stopped in his tracks, an expression clearly showing he was deep in thought (and effectively overloading his brain, he will definitely need to take a nap later) etched on his face. he then looked up at her with sparkling eyes, and asked “does that mean im your sun, mama?”

the blue haired woman stunned for a mere moment, only to laugh so sweetly deuce berates himself for ever forgetting this dear, precious memory, “yes, darling. yes, you are.”

8 year old deuce thought he would never be happier.

he, however, failed to realize the sun tends to be red, perhaps orange.

never blue.

2. when people avoided him while staying in his orbit.

deuce has always considered himself a people magnet, for better or worse.

in middle school he was feared with friends few and far between, but despite being actively avoided by most of the student body, they still somehow, some way, gravitated towards him for one reason or another.

despite beating people up being his most common activity, deuce spade loved helping people. his mother raised him to always be mindful of others and help when he can, so he did just that– though sometimes in.. less academically acceptable means.

he didn’t just fight for fun, don’t get him wrong. he preferred to bring justice where it was due– to bullies. if one of his classmates was being bullied in front of him, he couldn’t just sit back and watch when he had 2 perfectly functioning hands and the offender a perfectly punchable face.

that is how deuce found himself feared, yet adored, at the same time. pulling people in while unintentionally pushing them away.

at night raven college he was no longer feared, or adored. there were guys much scarier, more powerful than him, why would anyone be scared of a first year without his unique spell? why would he be adored without having done anything to be deserving of adoration? if anything, he was constantly causing problems instead. this is not how his plan of being an honor student was supposed to go.

his kind and– contrary to high school– chill nature did seem to still pull people towards him, though. he had changed a lot since his “punk” days, he was much calmer and friendlier now, which seemed to make it easier for people to approach him. that’s how he found himself making many new friends for this journey.

much like the sun with the planets, it’s trusty companions, deuce also had his.

he had, yet again, failed to realize the sun was less good natured than him.

3. when he got his unique spell.

deuce was truly overjoyed the day it happened. what made it even better was that he was the first of his new friend group to manifest it!

well, technically– jack already had his before he came to nrc, so he doesn’t really count. for pride's sake.

better yet, it’s a super useful and powerful spell! he’s sure to make his mom proud with this one, he thinks to himself as he walks down one of the many dark hallways the school holds, smiling all the while.

now he’ll be more useful if there’s another overblot– now he can protect people with his magic! without having to use his fists (though it would be for a good cause, he reasons)!

now he can protect his dear magicless friend from harm, without having to rely on others too much.

many overblots have happened since you came here, and deuce has always felt bad he couldn’t do much to protect you, despite being a person in need and his promise to his mother. he thought himself too weak, which wasn’t too far from the truth– that much was proved in the actual battles. but now he has something more to him, something useful, and he’s going to milk the absolute most out of it. he’s going to hone his abilities even more to protect you, and others, better.

because that’s who he strives to be– one who protects, rather than one who harms. one who illuminates the darkest of days, one who shines in peril, one who saves.

much like the sun bestows it’s rays upon the earth, helping it flourish and grow and continue spinning.

he fails to notice the recent heatwave warnings.

4. when he kept his peers warm through the cold nights and days.

as previously mentioned, deuce saw himself as a kind of protector– to his friends and strangers alike. he saw a person in need, he helped, there was no deeper meaning, no poetic underlying translation to his actions.

it was simply second nature.

much like his mother used to put her hands on the edges of counters when he was under them, he, too, instinctively reaches to cover the edge of his desk when you lean down to pick up something you dropped.

contrary to popular belief, deuce spade is severely aware of his surroundings. he always keeps his eyes out for anything that might eventually bring harm to one of his fellow students, his neighbors, his mother, himself. he believes in good deeds returning to you one day, so he does his best to do as many of them as possible– seven know he’s going to need all the luck he can dig up for his finals.

the skills he picked up from his mother especially come in handy at times like these. if there’s any trinkets or machines at ramshackle that you need fixed but crowley doesn’t care and you simply can’t, deuce is lined up at the entrance and fixing it without you ever asking him to. if you mention something not working his mind is immediately preoccupied with finding ways to fix it as soon as possible.

he would rather fail a class than have one of his dear friends hurt over something he could’ve easily prevented had he been there.

so he keeps his eyes peeled and ears alert, observing and listening for any and all opportunities to be useful.

it was around winter time when the heating system at ramshackle broke down and you and grim barely had anything to keep yourselves warm. instead of your bedroom, you found yourself sleeping in the living room, right by the fireplace. the holes in the walls and shabby windows did not do much to keep the cold out, and despite the raging fire right in front of you, you still shivered and huddled further into your several layers of clothes and blankets.

once deuce found out, the first thing he did was curse crowley for being so irresponsible and refusing to fix it for you due to “low funding” (completely ignoring the fact you do all kinds of jobs for him without ever being paid more than what covers your monthly living expenses). the second thing was rush to ramshackle with a toolbox, fully intent on fixing it himself. he’s done it once before, surely he can do it again.

you slept in your warm bedroom again that night.

later, deuce woke in the middle of the night, having a dry throat and no water on his bedside table.

he snuck into the heartslabyul kitchen undetected, and once he refilled his glass, successfully made his way back to his room.

compared to the rest of the dorm, however, he noticed the room was awfully and oddly cold. that’s when he noticed the open window, and ace shivering in his bed.

deuce heaved a shivery sigh and headed to close the window, but he found himself stopping just short of it, glancing at his roommate still shivering, completely uncovered by his blanket. despite hating his guts, ace was still a close friend of his, so with another sigh he walked up to his bed and covered him again, much like his mother used to do to him.

much like the sun keeps the planets warm throughout the year.

he seems to have forgotten mercury is nearing incineration, while uranus and neptune are mostly frozen.

5. when he was akin to the morning light, soft and gentle.

deuce prided himself in being an early bird, he naturally rose with the sun.

maybe it was due to being used to being woken up by his mothers alarms, maybe he just developed this skill over the years– he himself is not entirely sure.

ace always complained about how he could be so energetic and alert in the mornings, while the redhead was completely out of it.

deuce took joy from being able to watch the sunrise. watching the colors of the sky slowly change in the morning energized him plenty for the day to come– it reminded him that no matter what happens, the sun will rise again tomorrow.

this morning, however, he is seeing it in an entirely different light.

him, ace, sebek, jack, epel and ortho had all spent the night at ramshackle at a first year sleepover, organized by you. admittedly, it was the most fun he’s had in a while– and not just him, either, since even sebek seemed to be coming out of his shell.

after the others had long gone to sleep, you stayed up with deuce to chat deep into the night, since you had no classes the next morning. you could allow yourself a little leisure.

deuce spade has never heard his voice be as soft as it was then. he had whispered with people many times in his life, but not once had he sounded so gentle, so tender while talking to someone.

that is when he finally realized something that he completely let slip by him, something he pinned as absolutely normal.

he realized how gentle he’s always been with you.

ever since you came here, deuce has always treated you with care– like you were something fragile, something he might accidentally break if he held it wrong. his hands were used to causing pain, after all.

but no, not with you. never you.

which is why you compared him to the morning light– because in your view, he was just that. something tranquil, something comforting, something that feels like home.

deuce treated you with love, an indescribable fondness behind his every action– something he himself seemed to miss, yet everyone else noticed.

much like the morning lights gentle rays, deuce spade caressed your face.

+ 1. when the moon's glow felt all too familiar.

when deuce opened his eyes that morning, he could immediately tell it would not be a good day.

the morning light did nothing to his exhaustion, and he felt awfully cold, despite it being spring.

as he walked up to his class, he was greeted by a group of people surrounding ace, murmuring about one thing or another. once he approached, the circle parted to let him through to his seat, and he noticed ace was simply performing his card tricks.

“hey, dude, good morning! look at this trick i came up with–”

as he watched his roommates hands carefully, intent on finding out the secret behind the trick, he blinked only once and suddenly it all clicked into place.

why the sun did nothing to him, why he felt so cold.

the sun wasn’t his.

that was simply it, the sun was not his, deuce spade was never the sun– ace trappola was.

whenever a crowd of people surrounded deuce, ace was there. ace kept people cheerful and entertained throughout the days, deuce only kept them warm at night.

ace trappola was bright, vivid, warm, eye-catching, red.

deuce spade was dim, cool, easy to miss, blue.

ace trappola was everything deuce was not, but everything he wished to be.

and yet, one could not function without the other. deuce needed ace as much as ace needed him– they complimented each other perfectly, be as it may.

through the envy pooling in the pit of his stomach, he mustered up a smile and praised the redhead for his newest trick, applauded even. through the envy he watched as ace lit up, shining brighter than the sun in the window right next to his head, and he realized he could never compete over something he could never do.

he could never do what ace trappola does as effortlessly as breathing.

although quite similar in nature, the moon could never do what the sun does naturally.

and, perhaps, the moon, too, had once wished to be the sun.

ੈ✩₊˚TAGLIST : @lunavixia @solxima @gabirii @erigaur @pomegranateboba //ask/comment or fill form to be added/removed! (if you're in bold i can't tag you)

#🖋「txt」#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland x y/n #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #deuce spade x reader #deuce spade x yuu #deuce spade x you #deuce spade x y/n #deuce spade

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bugeater101 · 2 years ago

Text

If Only I Could Please Her

Synopsis: You were always one to appease your close ones. Friends, partners, family members, everyone; you just wanted them to be happy. Whether you did this because you wanted to or because you feared being the one taken care of is a different story. With Chan, you are still the same, until he decides to change your mind.

Content: angst (sad chan), fluff, smut, peoplepleaser!reader x stressed!Chan, sub!Reader x pleasuredom!Chan, thick!reader, first time sex, mentions of angry fucking (does not occur in story), slight marking!kink, slight lactation!kink, oral (f. receiving), use of toys (f. receiving), MULTIPLE ORGASMS (chan is a pleasure dom what can I say), unprotected sex (please please please use protection), reader cries from pleasure, creampie, breeding!kink, fluffy ending (so much fluff it is like tooth-rotting, sugar-coated, insulin-needing sweetness)

Word Count: 8.9 k (whoops sorry)

Author's Notes: This work was originally my own but I started to incorporate some ideas sent to me by an Anon. Thank you to that person!! I hope this pleases you (teehee get it because of the title). Also, yes, the title is a Wallow's lyric from "Pleaser".

Taglist: @scribblemetae @mygsis, @9900z, @taekbokki,, @imtoooyoungforthisshit

To say Chan was stressed was an understatement. It was almost like a common trope, a cliché that had been overworked in its use to describe him. He was tired to the point where aches and pains were one with his body. A chronic pain cursed him which no painkillers could execute.

You had only been dating Chan briefly yet had known him for a long time prior. As such, you weren't unaware of how recklessly he treated his body and mind in an effort to maintain a constant work stream. It seemed, however, that your courtship with him only enhanced your worries about his well-being.

"Courtship"? Is that the right word to use? You two were practically launched into love from the moment you laid eyes on each other. Dating had simply allowed you to finally experience the desperation that plagued both of you when you were still acquaintances. So, "courtship" wouldn't be the best word. More like, "dating-for-the-long-run-but-every-day-is-haunted-by-the-dire-need-to-fuck-the-other".

Worst of all, you hadn't even had sex yet. The unspoken abstinence made you wonder if Chan wanted you as much as you wanted him. You wondered if he wanted you at all.

Countless times you had offered yourself up as a means to relieve stress. Handjobs, blowjobs, the like: you wanted Chan to finally relax. It wasn't like you felt pressured to do so. In fact, the offers you proposed to Chris were more of a way to satiate your cravings. Yet, Chan refused each time, which you respected. He claimed he wanted the first time with you to be "special", unlike the previous relationships either of you had been in. You obliged, thinking it would be nice to actually take things slow for once.

However, as time went on, you found it harder and harder to respect that agreement. And for multiple reasons.

Firstly, you were desperate. Simple as that: you wanted dick. Secondly, Chan was stressed. His work ethic had overloaded his system, and it didn't seem to be lightening any time soon. Comeback season was followed by award show season, and then the end-of-the-year performances followed by the rest of the tour. At this point, you were surprised that Chan was even still standing. You thought that at some point he would beg, plead, maybe even crawl to you to help him relieve some tension. However, he still stood proudly every day, silently suffering through the exhaustion of him and his members. Lastly, and worst of all, was that Chan looked so fucking good when he was tense. This reason was the one you beat yourself up for. While Chan was struggling, you couldn't help but think about how good it would be to ride him like that, releasing his buried tension with every pump of his cock.

Jesus, were you that dirty-minded? That even the sight of Chan, sweating and exhausted from a long day of schedules made you wet? You dismissed the thoughts one after another.

Ultimately, you blame the people-pleaser side of yourself. In most of your relationships, you had taken on a more dominant, yet attending, role. Even in friend groups, you acted like a parental figure, ensuring everyone's safety, fun, and overall well-being. When it came to former partners, you wanted to please— in and out of the bedroom. You wanted to make dinner because you liked to see the joy on their faces when digging into a homemade meal, you wanted to hear giggles of excitement when they opened new presents, and, to be honest, you relished in the panted and thankful moans of being relieved. Sometimes it was the other way around in bed: you'd let them use you, your body, to get their anger out. Sometimes it would be too much, so much that you couldn't take being someone's stress toy any longer. You did eventually end that relationship, and rightfully so. Still, it seemed like you didn't really learn your lesson: even now, you wanted to make Chris happy in any way you could.

Part of you thinks you fell into this sort of people-pleaser role due to the convenience of it. It's simply easier to be the one who made the plans, who helped out, who took care of everything. You disliked—possibly even feared—the dependence required of you if you allowed others to take care of you. Maybe that's why all your past relationships have ended. Maybe that's why, now, with Chris, you feel helpless because you have done so little in helping him feel better.

However, you still try. You still want, even need to make Chris feel good. It isn't even the charmer in you anymore: with the way Chan has been, any good partner would be concerned.

Today, you take matters into your own hands.

It was the last schedule for the week, allowing Chan to have his first free Saturday night and Sunday in months. You both agreed to a night in, his first one in a while. You had done everything right: your apartment was set with low-mood lighting and a full pantry. Freshly baked goods scented the air of the living room while the bedroom air was a condensed scent of vanilla and shea butter from the candles. Regardless of the impeccable condition of your apartment, you were by far the most delectable thing in it. You were adorned with a simple silken rose-coloured robe, seemingly relaxed and ready for an easy night in with Chan. You, however, had a few secrets hidden underneath your robe. Your detached and happy demeanour was the sugar-coating to your scantly-clad state, and you hoped that Chan received the message that you had more than just a self-care night planned.

Everything was perfect. Special, even. It was everything Chris wanted for your first time with him. All that was left now was to wait for him to arrive so you could dote on him, ease his worries, and consummate your so-far celibate relationship. So you waited.

And waited.

... and waited.

The night sky had settled and you were still alone. Chris had told you he would arrive by 7:00 and now, hours later, he was nowhere in sight. Initially, you tried not to panic, subsiding your anxiety by keeping the candles alight while occasionally fixing your makeup that enhanced the plumpness of your lips and the fullness of your cheeks. Still, there is only so much one could do before panic turns to simmering anger, and then to annoyance.

You now rested on the couch, reading and vigorously bouncing your leg, the baked goods no longer fresh out of the oven and some of the candles resting in a puddle of their own melted flesh. Each page of your novel stared back at you, its contents almost silently mocking you for being alone and reading it rather than being with Chris. You couldn't stand to look at the book anymore.

Sighing, you slammed the novel shut and tossed it aside. Your eyes dared to twitch towards the analogue clock that hung on the wall. This entire night you had been fighting the urge to look at the time, losing every time. And, just like countless times before, you lost the battle.

9:20 on the dot. No new messages on your phone, no missed calls. Nothing.

It wasn't the first time he had no-showed you, but at least he had given you a text before. Now, nothing.

In all honesty, you wanted to give up. Blow out the candles, wrap up the food, do your skincare and put yourself to bed. Something stopped you every time before. Yet, after hours with no contact, your patience was wearing thin and it became incredibly tempting to leave this night for another time.

Then you heard the door rattle. You shot up like a bullet, albeit more eager than you wanted to seem.

Chris entered your apartment and (though he still wore makeup ruined by a hard performance, had hair which had started to curl from the sweat of dancing, and was dressed in his basic dark loungewear) he looked heavily. Every frustration you had seemed to erase itself. The irritation that once berated you now had disappeared. Instead, you were left with the overwhelming urge to hug Chan. So you did.

"Baby?—oof!" You launched yourself into him, staggering him a bit as your arms wrapped around his neck.

"Chan!" You said happily. "God, I was so worried. Well, mostly annoyed, but also a little worried."

Chan's hands rested awkwardly outstretched beside him before finding comfort on your hips, wrapping around you. The two of you stood there silently, swaying in the entrance of your apartment as you felt Cris relax into your arms. The soft music you had let play began to encapsulate you two, filling the space of the words you wished to say to him. Then he spoke.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Sadness was evident in his voice. Pain and weariness coated the two simple words he uttered. You pulled away, his hands still resting on you as your own nestled his face. His eyes were so... so solemn, like a kicked puppy.

"Chan, it's okay," you tried to say your words lightly and carefully. He was so clearly horribly upset, and it made your stomach churn. "Obviously I was upset, but you're here now. Please, tell me what's wrong? Why didn't you text me?"

Chan tried to look at you, to meet your eyes. He really did. Nonetheless, he still looked down. He let the weight of the tears that formed in his eyes hold his head down. As they started to trickle down, he pulled his hands off of you, placing them on your own and pulling them from his face to hold them.

"I'm so sorry," his voice was so incredibly melancholic. "My phone died and no one had a charger. When I finally found one, it was time to perform. We had to record four times due to camera errors and then they added a performance to the schedule. By the time we were able to leave, it was past 8:30 and I was on the other side of the city. I'm so sorry. I came here as quickly as I could. I'm sorry." Tears were streaking down his cheeks now. They were brimming your eyes, too.

However, you fought them off. You had to be strong, for both of you. If not for Chan, then for yourself. And if not for yourself, then for your eye makeup.

"Chan," your voice spoke up, answering his pleas for forgiveness. And, again, you tried to keep your voice light, despite the circumstances. "Baby, look at me?"

He shook his head, letting hot, salty tears fall down his face. Though he refused, you didn't accept his response. With his hands still around yours, you held his face again, forcing his head up and his eyes to meet yours.

"Chris?" His eyes glanced towards yours, his lip caught in his teeth as he choked back a sob.

"Let's get you something to eat, hmm?"

Chan smiled. A sober smile, but a smile, nonetheless. One that showed he wanted to laugh, but couldn't. He simply couldn't. But he could smile. So he did.

With the food readily prepared, you were quick to fix a plate for Chris. You happily watched as he snacked on the sweets, fruits, and tea you made him, listening to him recount his day as he slowly gained his energy back. The smiles you exchanged filled your heart: you were happy that you had made him happy.

But, was he happy? He smiled, he ate your delicious and well-made food, he complimented your makeup, and you helped him take off his, but... something was amiss. Every good deed you normally performed for previous partners would normally leave them a blushing mess, begging for more. Yet, with Chan, something was different. Like he was disappointed, almost.

You wanted to ask, but assumed it was because of the stress from the past few weeks— and especially tonight. So, you let him know that if he wanted to talk, you were always here. He nodded, glassy eyes looking like milk saucers as he agreed silently to your words. God, he was adorable.

"Channie?" you asked as he finished the last chocolate-covered strawberry, thus demolishing the last morsel of food you had prepared for the night.

"Yes, honey?" Fuck, the petnames. He knew what made your knees weak. You want to treat him right, please him like you so desperately want to do, and beg him to take his anger out on you. However, you still need to play it safe. It was going to be your first time with him, and you needed to play your cards right. You cleared your throat.

"Can we head to bed now? I'm starting to feel tired."

Chan grinned at you, relieved to hear the words that relinquished him from the chains of consciousness.

"I would love that," he gleamed. As you took his hand in yours, excited to show him what layered underneath your short robe, you felt your cheeks heat up. How could even the slightest touch from him make you flush? Gosh, he was perfect, such a good boyfriend. You wanted to let him know, give him everything—

*buzz buzz*

Chris and you simultaneously glanced down at the phone in his pocket.

*buzz buzz*

You reluctantly looked at each other, knowing that he had to answer the call.

"It could be work," he said glumly.

"Yeah, I know," you responded in the same faint tone.

*buzz buzz*

"Take it," you insisted, smiling despite the pit your heart fell into. Chan smiled as well, probably for the same reasons.

*buzz buzz*

"I'll meet you in the bedroom, you go on ahead," he told you, giving you a nod as a signal to leave.

*buzz buzz*

"Don't keep me waiting," you responded cheekily. You planted a kiss on the cheek, scampering off to your room.

You heard the faint sounds of Chris answering his phone, knowing it was his manager on the other line.

"Hi, is there an issue with the track that we're recording on Monday? I thought we cleared that up." You could hear him through the door, rolling your eyes at the thin walls of your apartment. In an effort to prevent intrusion upon his work-related conversation, you got to tending the forgotten room.

"What are you talking about?" Chan half-huffed, half-whispered- yelled into his phone. You pretended not to hear him. The candles were dim now, so you replaced the few that were completely exhausted.

"Are you kidding me!?" You could hear him yell. Again, you ignored it, humming to yourself in an effort to calm the atmosphere.

"What about Channie's Room? My day off?" In a flurry, you redispersed the flower petals on your bedspread.

"Fine... yeah, of course..." you heard Chris' voice at its regular decibel now. "I'll see you then."

The room was perfect. So, you sat and waited for Chris, fixing yourself exactly like you had imagined you would.

Chan didn't open the door for a moment. You could hear him sigh and his phone land with a thud on the couch. He had tossed it aside. He did that when he was sick and tired of it ringing. A beat passed and then he opened the door.

"Is everything okay?" You asked, your voice concerned and low. Chan closed the door behind him, eyes immediately focused on the ground again. Oh, no.

"No... no, it's not," he stated blankly. He did not notice the candles or how their scent consumed the air. Nor did he notice the rose petals on the bedspread. He didn't even notice you.

"God I—fuck—I can't believe they did that," he chuckled dryly. He glanced at you—if you think half a millisecond of time is enough to look at someone fully —and threw his arms up.

"Channie—" you began

"They took tomorrow night from me," he stated blankly. Your heart sank: you knew what that meant. No Sunday Channie's Room, no free night, and, most importantly, no full day off.

"We have to re-record some lines and I have to be in the booth helping out," he started, "then we got to get dressed up and do a schedule until midnight.

"Chan, please—"

"And then they have the fucking audacity to ask me if I'm resting well! No, the fuck I am not!" His voice shook—not with anger, but because of the tears brimming his eyes for the second time that night.

"Chris—" Again, his voice interjected yours.

"That means more time away from you, and that means I can't be there for you, or myself, or—"

"CHRIS!" It was your turn to interrupt him. You managed to stop his catastrophizing, cutting his sentence short. However, he still didn't look at you. His hands were holding his head, clearly trying to prevent the insanity from settling in.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. You let the silence fill the room. Then, you opened your eyes and looked right at Chris.

"Channie?" Your voice was soft and barely audible. Chan's hands had rubbed up his face and now smoothed his hair down, trying to tame the frizziness of his unkempt curls. Somehow, despite the worries that plague him, your voice broke him from his trance. It was as if, for a moment, he offered his attention to you in the hopes that it would pull him out of his adversity. With a sigh, he swung his arms down and let his hands smack against his legs, the act demonstrating his exhaustion. Then, once he was settled, his eyes glanced over to you, following the sound of your voice.

As soon as his gaze met you, he stilled.

You sat on his bed on your parted knees, relaxed with your barely clothed cunt hovering just above his petal-covered comforter. The pink lace lingerie you wore was visible under the rose satin robe that barely clung to you, slipping away as the knot of the strap became undone. A garter was situated on each of your fat thighs and suspended by a belt which hugged your plump waist, the colours matching the bra and panties you wore. Well, "panties" was a strong word: it was barely a few pieces of fabric and string. Your tummy peaked between the belt and underwear, completing your look with the sheer bareness of it all.

Chan's eyes were stuck on you; he could barely move. It was as if he could finally smell the vanilla and shea butter in the air.

"Channie... come to bed," you finished, fingers teasingly rubbing down the opening of your robe.

Chan's mouth went dry, his hands slowly clenching into fists to bring himself down. He needed to retain some semblance of serenity. Seeing you sitting like that while his mind raged pushed him towards something animalistic in him that he didn't know he had. One deep breath followed another, a feeble attempt at composing himself so as to not pounce on you. Who could blame him if he did? You were literally presenting yourself as ready to be used, to be loved, to let him have you. His breath was heavy, his pants now unbelievably tight.

"Please, Channie," you asked, your voice smooth and sultry. "For me?"

He licked his lips.

"Okay, y/n," he whispered back. "Okay."

He took a step forward, then another. His eyes never left you; he was hypnotized. As his legs met the foot of the bed, he slowly pushed forward and let his knee continue his crawl towards you. While Chan climbed onto the bed, you laid down, allowing him to mount you. Chan's hands planted on either side of you and his knees hugged your body, allowing him to look completely down at your helpless form. Your robe had almost completely undone, only held slightly together by a feeble knot. It displayed you to Chris, framing you in lingerie and making every instinct in his mind scream. Still, he stared at you calmly. Instead of doing what his animalistic instincts demanded of him, he shifted his weight, allowing one hand to rise up and brush a strand of hair from your face. His eyes were clear, tranquil— tearless for the first time that night.

"You are so beautiful, love," he mumbled as you brought your hands up to caress his face. "So beautiful..." Your thumb rubbed his cheek, feeling the heat of his blood creep toward the surface of his skin as you offered him this tenderness

"Wanna take such good care of you," you whispered as you kissed his face. "Wanna please my Channie."

All of a sudden, Chan looked at you like you were crazy, like you had said something off-colour or had suddenly spat in his face.

"What do you mean by that, y/n?" He asked, his voice still steady but precise. Investigative. You stared back at him with the same expression.

"I just... want you to use me? I want to make you happy, so, please, do what you want." Though your voice was sure, Chris seemed all the more confused.

"What? I could never—What?" He asked.

His words immediately caused humiliation to wash over you. You could feel your face heat up and you tried to pull away after his perplexing comments, hoping to undo what you had said. However, Chris didn't move. Despite your efforts, his body continued to cage yours. Actually, he did move closer to you, down onto his elbows so his body was still parallel to yours. The space between you two became air tight. You felt red-hot embarrassment flush your cheeks, eyes stinging from the threat of tears. God, what had you said that made him act so weird?

Your thoughts started to race as your heart pounded faster, the beat threatening to break your ribs with every pulse. Breath quickening, you wanted to beg, plead to Chris about what he meant. You wanted a chance to explain yourself, to go back in time, to ask him what he meant, please.

Then, you felt Chan rut his cock into you as he kissed your cheek.

"Mmh— fuck," Chris panted in your ear before kissing it, sucking on the lobe and kissing down your jaw. "You smell so fucking good."

"C-chris?" you whimpered out.

"'Use you'? I could never," Chris chuckled. "God, y/n, haven't you figured me out by now?" As his hands slowly slid into yours, interlocking your fingers, he captured your lips in his, softly catching your breath.

"But, I—" you protested, still confused.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good, y/n," he whispered as he continued the languid strokes of his bulge against your thigh. "I'm gonna make you feel good. So, so good. Over and over again. You feeding me, taking care of me... it's nice and I love it, but it's not what I want." One of his hands slipped from yours, replacing the aching absence of your touch by holding your jaw softly with it, pushing you lovingly into his kisses. He whimpered as your tongue licked his lip, begging for more.

"I'm the provider," he kissed you again, "I'm the dominant one." Another kiss, another harsh rut.

"I'm the pleaser, okay?"

Your mouth felt dry. He smiled.

"Please touch me, Channie," you begged.

"Anything for you, princess."

He pressed his lips into yours again, letting his hand slip from your jaw and down your neck. His fingers ghosted along your collarbones, then teased along the edge of your robe, slipping the knot of the robe and completely undoing it. He moved all his weight to his knees, pulling back to sit up and allow his hands to rub down your sides, moving the robe out of the way.

"All dressed up for me, sitting on a bed of fucking roses," he cursed. His hands continued to rub up and down your torso. One hand pressed over the flimsy material of your panties that clung to your hip while the other fondled your chest over your bra. All the while, his hips never ceased moving, his heavy erection so evident as he panted above you. The sight made you needy as if you already weren't.

"Chan, don't tease," your eyes were wide and shimmering, Chan's heart thumping at the site.

"Baby," he cooed, "it's funny that you think you can call the shots."

He let both of his hands rest on your hips now, massaging the squishy flesh eagerly as his fingers dipped in and out of the fabric, teasing the possibility of taking them off.

"I like to relax by making you feel good, yeah?" Chan questioned. You nodded in understanding, but, frankly, you just wanted him to rip your panties off and fuck you.

"So," he continued, the grip on your wide hips harsher, "that means I'm gonna tease you. I'm gonna make you cum over and over again. Every time we fuck. God, how I've wanted you." As he realized his dreams were becoming reality, Chris' words suddenly got to him. He couldn't resist his urges and, as such, allowed himself a moment of liberation, ducking his head into the crevice of your neck. Licking and biting it liberally, he inhaled your scent like he needed it to live.

"Fuck, please—Channie, I don't know if I can handle that," you whimpered as he left hickeys along your neck. Your begs made him chuckle, pulling away from you despite how you clung to him.

"Oh, princess..." he teased, "you'll just have to." His hands slipped from your body and grabbed the hem of his shirt. The fabric was quickly pulled over his head and across the room, leaving him straddling you and completely on display.

"God, now you're just being unfair," you pouted as you studied his carved torso.

"You love it," he laughed in a low voice as his hands returned to your hips. "Now, where were we? Oh... yeah, here."

Suddenly, his hands twisted the delicate fabric of your panties that dug into the fat of your hip and tore it off your body, shredding it to pieces.

"Chris!" You cried, hands rushing to cover yourself. However, Chan caught your palms and pinned them to your sides. The act caused him to know pin you to the bed again, leaving you vulnerable under him.

"I'll replace them, don't worry," he groaned with an air of nonchalance. "But know that I'll just rip them off of you. Again, and again... again..." His mouth attached to yours and stifled your protests. As he caught your moans, he soon detached his lips from yours and kissed down your body, still holding your hands. When he reached your covered chest, he released his grip and freed his hands to grope your tits, toying with your nipples through the sheer fabric.

"W-will you tease me all night?" You asked as his spit soaked the fabric, attempting to suck on your nipples through the barrier.

"At some point, you'll be begging me to go this slow," he growled. He then pulled away and studied his work, content with your glistening chest.

"It's like you're leaking for me, baby." Chris started to redden. "Like your tits are soaked with milk." Your flushed face matched his own, as if you were both shocked by the words that left his mouth

Unexpectedly, he chuckled.

"Don't act like you didn't love that, y/n."

"S-shut up," you mumbled, eyes darting away in fear of meeting Chris'.

"Like a little horny baby that can't keep her tits from gushing after being sucked on," he hissed. The embarrassment of his teases continued to catch your voice, making it difficult for you to speak. His lips then returned to your torso, kissing down your body and nipping at the belt that still desperately clung to your waist.

"We'll leave this on you, the whole night," he mumbled between licks. "No panties, no bra, but this stays." His fingers caressed the fabric, loving how it hugged your tummy and accentuated your curves.

"Mmh— fuck," you hummed.

His tongue licked your stomach, kissing the fat before his hands led the way down to your thighs. Chan planted open kisses on them, nibbling at the plump flesh as he pretended not to notice your begging and exposed cunt.

"I love taking my time with you," he moaned as your whimpers persisted. "I love pleasing you, y/n."

"Oh, Chris," you responded, voice filled with adoration.

Abruptly, his tongue met your clit and sucked eagerly on it, like he had waited a lifetime to taste you.

"Fuck—" you gasped out, grateful for the stimulus. Chan ate you like a starved man, his tongue kitten-licking your clit with a neediness that matched your own.

In an attempt to stabilize yourself, one of your hands began to pet his hair while the other played with your tits. However, the endeavour inevitably failed. Chan was insatiable, and it made you squirm in his grip.

"Hmph—Fuck, how can you taste so good?" He whimpered as he buried into you further, pulling you closer by hooking your knees over his shoulders. Tonguing your entrance, he refused to neglect your clit as his nose nudged it with every lap of his tongue. Both of your hands now held his hands, desperately pulling him into you.

"C-channie, I—"

"Come for me, baby," he urged as his tongue returned to your clit. "Please? Please, all over my tongue, soak my face, please?" His begs were too much to resist. His tongue immediately returned to your clit, moaning into your cunt as he made out with your pussy. Quickly, you found your pussy now clenching around nothing, cumming just from the simple pleas and the licks Chris offered to you.

"Such a pretty pussy," Chan moaned as he lapped up your juices, coaxing you through your orgasm. "Does what it's told, so nice for me." You whimpered at the dirty words he threw around. How did everything he say sound so sexy? So fucking perfect?

Before he let you settle, his tongue returned to your clit and his fingers now teased your cunt.

"No, Chris— w-wait, please, give me time," you hiccuped as two of his fingers eased into you, your cum acting as a perfect lubricant.

"Now, now," he taunted, "that was just one of many. Relax, y/n. Give me another, yeah?" He then continued to abuse your clit while his fingers curled repeatedly, continually probing that gummy part in you.

"Baby," you moaned as your legs wrapped around his head, hating the overstimulation but unable to resist it. The lewd sounds that came from Chan finger-fucking your cunt filled the room.

"Just another, give me one more, c'mon," he urged as he returned to licking your pussy, tongue feverishly eating you. With the quickened pace of his appendages, your pussy came unexpectedly, swelling around his fingers.

"Channie! I cum, I c-cum, cum, f-for Channie, cum" you mewled. Chan smiled as he kissed your twitching cunt, eyes burning for more. He then pulled his fingers out of you and sat back on his knees, enjoying the site of his hand caressing your sopping pussy lips as you rode out the last of your orgasm.

"Aww, baby's already fucked-out from two orgasms," he cooed. He leaned over, planting a kiss on your parted lips. "Gather yourself, princess. You have a long night ahead of you." You whimpered, swallowing your words as you found yourself unable to form a coherent sentence. Instead, you let your hands crawl up his chest to his shoulders, pulling him in and kissing him properly. Chan hummed into the kiss and relished the moment of puppy love.

Pulling away, he gave you a soft grin.

"Where are your toys, baby?" He demanded in a gentle voice.

"W-what? I don't have—"

"Please don't play dumb with me," he challenged, adopting a slightly condescending tone. "I've heard the buzzing when you think I'm asleep on the couch. I've seen the packages you've carelessly thrown out. Now, tell me: Where. Are. They?"

You were dumbfounded, caught in your lies. Yet, you had no escape. After two orgasms and with more to come, you were already Chan's dumb little plaything, unable to think for herself. How could you refuse what he asked of you, or even lie your way out? Silently, you raised your hand meekly with what little strength you had, outstretching an index finger to point towards the third drawer of your dresser. Chan smiled.

"Good girl, my good and fuckable little princess," he praised. For the first time in what seemed like forever, Chris moved off of you and freed from his unrelenting love. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. As Chan kneeled to open your drawer, he glanced over at you and laughed at your weak state.

"Take your time, baby, but don't fall asleep on me," he hummed as he pulled open the drawer and began to search for the toys. "Finish getting undressed for me while I look, m'kay? But leave the belt on." You briefly considered taking the belt off, just to see what Chan would do. Then, with his next words, you decided to follow his orders.

"You don't want to know what happens when you challenge me." Though his voice was light, you feared what he insinuated by that comment. You were oddly intrigued, yearning to know what he would do. Yet, since you were already exhausted, you knew that today was no day to mess with your Channie. Especially since he had a rough day: you wanted to be good for him, and he needed you to be good for him. You still wanted to please. You left the belt on and continued to undress.

"Oh! I found your treasure," Chan teased as he fiddled through the drawer. God, if you weren't embarrassed already, you certainly were when Chan pulled out your large vibrator.

"What have we here?" He taunted, studying the body massager in the light like it was a precious artifact. You sat silent and petrified. Chris stood up, studying the massager and tossing it in his hand.

"This will do just fine," he smiled. Then, with a gingerly throw, the vibrator landed next to you on the bed.

"Use it." The air went stale.

"Chris, I-I'm so sensitive, please," you pleaded. Yet, he continued to stare at you. He barely noticed your tits were out, erect and still glistening from him lapping them up with your bra on. Well, it's not like he "didn't notice": he had begun to palm his erection through his shorts, licking his lips at the sight of you laid out for him.

"Start slowly then, love," he instructed. He stripped himself of his shorts, leaving him in his boxers and showcasing his fat and needy cock through the tight material. He then sat on the bed next to you and picked up the toy again. With a click, the buzzing ensued. Chan glanced at you before reaching for your hand, placing the vibrating toy in your palm and forcing you to hold it.

"Come one, y/n," he whispered into your ear, "you have to keep giving me all you got." His hands then caressed your legs and pet your hair, a faint act to show he was still going to coax you through your next orgasm. Then, his hands moved yours towards your pulsating cunt, his eyebrows raised in a display of fake anticipation.

You grasped the vibrator with both hands at it was forced into your clit, moans instantly leaving you as your body hummed with stimulation.

"God, it's too much," you whimpered, tears brimming your eyes. As you sniffled, Chan pressed kisses into your face and massaged your tits and thighs, pinching your nipples and groping your flesh.

"No, it's perfect," he corrected. "You feel all the love I'm giving you, y/n? All the pleasure?" He then let his hand leave your thigh for a second to switch the power higher on the vibrator, the humming now crying in your ears.

"Mmh! Fuck, yes, Chris!" You moaned as your thighs crushed the toy between your thighs. Each whimper that left you made Chan's smile more sincere, and more eager, and it made him switch your toy higher.

"You need to stop trying to make me happy, yeah?" he tutted, "I just wanna make you feel happy. Make you come. Over, and over, and over until you're soaked, and so easy to slide into, yeah?"

"Yes, yes," you moaned. "Just wanna be your perfect little pocket pussy, your fleshlight t-to use. Fuck—ah!" Another power increase.

"If you cum for me one more time," he softly spoke to you, "then I'll give you my cock. You'd like my cock, wouldn't you, y/n?"

You nodded vigorously, "Yes, yes, I want my Channie's cock, his big fucking dick so deep in me."

"Fuck," Chan groaned, increasing the power once more, "I'll fill you up when you take me, I'll give you so much cock and make you addicted to me."

"A-already am," you corrected, "already am obsessed with you, honey." Chan's hand pinched your tits, smiling as you approached your third orgasm of the night.

"My good princess," he kissed you lovingly. For the last time, he increased the power, the toy now buzzing at full capacity. "Now come once more and you'll get it, you'll get my cock."

"Chan, Chan, Chan, fuck—" you panted as you came. The sheets and your thighs became drenched in your cum as you squirted around the toy.

"My baby, so good," Chan cheered, so fucking happy at seeing your cum drench the cotton of your bedspread. Your hands fell beside you, the toy still buzzing as you gasped for breath. Chan smiled eagerly beside you, switching the toy off and tossing it aside on the comforter. He then laid beside you, pulling you close and nuzzling you. You lay completely flat as your chest rose and fell deeply, Chan cuddling into your side and holding you close. As if on command, his bulge proceeded to hump into your leg, desperate to get off despite your complete exhaustion.

"Fuck the sheets, don't worry about them. They were gonna be covered in cum anyways."

"Fuck 'em," you repeated mindlessly in a quiet voice.

"Y/n," Chan breathily laughed at your repetition, his hips still unconsciously bucking into your leg.

"Fuck these sheets..." you continued, "fuck the petals." You were completely gone, and Chan knew it. Yet, that didn't stop him. He played with your hair as he let you settle down, still rubbing into you as you sniffed your delicious scent.

"Yeah, fuck the sheets, my little cum-covered baby," he moaned, squishing himself closer and closer to you. Kisses ghosted your face, coating your skin in love. As his kisses moved from the side of your face to your nose and the center of your lips, he shifted his weight on top of you. Every kiss, however, became more determined, more eager, more desperate.

"God, I've needed you," he groaned as you clung to him, your body automatically responding to his touches regardless of how far your mind was. "I've waited to fuck you for so long, and I'm gonna make you come again and again. You've only given me three... Fuck, I wonder how many more can I get?" His hands suddenly slipped under your knees and wrapped them around his waist.

"Ah!" You yelped, eyes wide.

"That woke you up," he mused. He studied your glistening body, rubbing your legs and gripping your chest as he realized just how lucky he was.

"Fuck, your beautiful," he breathed out.

He then freed his cock from his boxers, the painfully hard erection slapping against his lower abdomen. Though you were depleted of all energy, your mouth instantly watered. He was large, veiny, and the perfect size with just a little bit of curve. You wanted to grab him and offer him a few much-needed strokes, but Chris' own hands beat you to it.

"Fuck, feels so good," he whimpered as he focused on his tip, pumping it quickly with a sloppy grip. His other hand now rubbed the mess between your thighs, easing two fingers into your quivering cunt to make sure you were still properly stretched out. However, the act made you convulse, still shaking from the slightest touch.

"T-too much, Channie," you whined. "God, 'm cumming too much."

"Shh, shh, baby," Chris hushed. He brought his thumb up to your mouth, pushing on your bottom lip with a mischievous smile playing on his face. "You are gonna take everything. Sorry if it is too much, but I gotta make you feel good." You let his thumb push into your mouth, offering it a few sucks to soothe yourself.

"There you go," he mumbled. Chris hissed with each swirl of your tongue. He pictured his red cock-head in your mouth instead of his thumb. And, though he desired to fuck your pretty mouth so badly, he knew he couldn't take it. He would've cum down your throat, and he didn't want to waste any of it by having you swallow it; he'd rather fill your pussy. He needed his cock in your cunt. Now.

"Keep sucking like a good girl, y/n," he hummed. "Yeah, just like that." With a final rub on his dick, he eased his dick between your legs. Gathering your cum, he rubbed his pulsing tip up and down, each stroke teasing your clit.

Your moans vibrated around Chan's thumb as your pussy clenched from the overstimulation.

"Shh, baby," Chan laughed, eyes pinched shut from the feeling of your wet, sensitive pussy. "Fuck, such a good girl with such a n-nice pussy—mmh, fuck!"

"Chris!"

It slipped in, just for a second. The tip of his fat cock sucked into your cunt, still tight but soaked from your juices. Just for a second. Not even.

But, fuck, it felt like heaven.

As soon as his cockhead dipped into your sopping cunt, you popped Chris' digit out of your mouth, moaning as he eased his veiny erection into you. For Chris, the feeling of you finally wrapped around him—still tight and twitching with every inch—made him lose the little sanity he had. When he first saw you in the bed, it took every bit of strength to resist his urges. Now, he felt like a horny teenager. The animalistic parts he tried to keep hidden, tried to restrain were now emancipated from his normally composed self. By the time he bottomed out, he knew he had lost all sense of control.

"Y-you better cum," he panted, slightly pulling out. Your watery eyes met his while your hands traced his abs, fingers delicately teasing the strained skin. "Cum when I tell you to," he finished.

He then pulled out and pushed in again harshly, mercilessly fucking your sopping cunt at a deep, reckless pace. The squelching sounds of your pussy around him filled the room and were harmonized by your moans that you felt unable to hold back.

"Such a tight, perfect little pretty pussy," he moaned as his hands fondled you. "God, y/n, what you do to me. So patient this whole night for my cock"

"Channie..." All you could do was moan in response or say his name. They were the only things that came to mind. What little energy you had left was expended to keep you awake, but that wasn't difficult with Chris rocking you on his cock.

"You look so g-good with my dick in you," he praised, "you look perfect, l-like it was made for my baby." He then reached beside your body, and as he did his body weight shifted so he was no longer sitting up. The angle did not change the speed of his hips nor how deep his cock dug into you. Your hands had someone found their way to his shoulders, holding him close and petting him gently: an act that contrasted the harsh snap of his hips. His face was now inches from yours, studying as his hand searched for what he yearned for. Glancing up, you caught a flash of colour and discovered what he grabbed.

The vibrator. Fuck.

It clicked on and the hum brought a smirk to Chris' face, a cocky expression still plastered on it.

"Chris! N-no—"

"Y/n," his panting voice stopped you. "Yes." Your eyes followed the buzzing toy down as it moved between your bodies, fearing the moment it would meet your clit. When it did, it made you yelp out again. Finally, after a night of torture, tears began to fall from your eyes.

"Hmph! Channie, w-wait baby, please," you wept.

"Give me another, c'mon, c'mon, y/n, baby, I know you have it, cream around my c-cock, baby, please," he begged as he rocked into you faster, enjoying the vibrations he felt on his cock when he dragged it out of your pussy.

"Chris, C-Chris, Chris," you babbled out.

Click. He increased the power.

Suddenly, your fourth orgasm was pulled from you, clamping around Chan's cock and gushing around him, but not as much as when you squirted earlier.

Chris, however, had never felt better.

"Fuck," he choked out, trying to hold himself back, "Fuck, you feel so good, you h-hug me so nicely. Wanna k-keep you on my cock at all times, wanna be able to f-fuck you always."

As his voice cracked, you swore he was about to start tearing up, as well. However, his pace never relented. When you came, he pressed the vibrator harder into you and let you ride out your orgasm on his cock before tossing the toy aside. Though you tried to cling to him, he pulled his torso off of you, allowing him to slip out of you and lightly slap his cock on your clit, making you shiver.

"Want another?" He teased as if he wasn't whimpering just moments ago. However, you could barely whine at the question.

"I'll give you another," Chris continued as he gripped your body harshly, flipping you over onto your stomach with his God-like strength. "I-I'll make you cum again and again until you pass out on my cock." You turned your head back to him, eyes suddenly pleading, loving the pleasure but also fearing how your legs shook without even being touched.

Chan chuckled, giving your ass a harsh spank and rubbing the pain away after you yelped.

"Get on all fours for now, okay? You've been so good, love." Mindlessly, you followed his orders, assisted by his hands as he gripped your hips, pulling your ass into the air.

He offered you some light spanks as he lined himself up. Teasing your entrance yet again, he slapped his leaking cock against your used pussy. Gingerly, he pulled the belt that still clung to your waist off of your body, then let it go. It smacked against you, making you whimper from the sting.

"Such a nice ass, beautiful fucking hips," he panted as you arched your back, accentuating the curvature of your ass. You glanced back, staring at the flushed man behind you. He was biting his lips so severely that you swore he would draw blood. The sweat that poured from him caused his curly hair to cling to his forehead and his chest to glisten. There was something about how perfect he looked that stirred something within you. It was as if, somehow, you found your voice, speaking a coherent sentence for the first time since your first orgasm.

"Fuck me, Channie," his eyes caught yours, shocked you were able to even think right now. "Fuck me like you mean it." Chan groaned at your words.

"Anything for you, princess," he responded. His fat cock pushed into you, hips meeting yours and rutting himself deeply into you. He set a steady yet carnal tempo, his grunts and moans becoming more vocal each time he buried his cock in you. Moans came unfiltered from your mouth, muffled only by the spent bedsheets that would never be used again after tonight.

"L-look at how your ass bounces on my cock," he whimpered. "S-such a fat, tight ass—fuck a wanna watch you ride me."

"Chan, your cock is s-so perfect," you mewled out, "Fill me up so well."

"Y/n," he moaned out in response. He bent over you now. Chest to back, fingers on your clit, cock rubbing into that soft part in your cunt. Fuck, he's perfect. Each circle around your abused and sensitive clit made you whimper louder and hug his dick harder. Yet, it only encouraged him to go harsher,

"I-I'm gonna stuff you full, fill your pretty precious pussy to the brim with my babies," he mewled, making you moan as well.

He grinned, "Y-you'd like that, hm? M-Mommy, make you a mommy. Make you a mommy so I can show everyone you're mine. Big tits, s-sensitive and leaking with m-milk after I fill you with my cum. Wanna keep you forever, need this pretty pussy forever. Fuck, it cums on command. Hugs me so well, so w-warm and tight and—fuck! Will b-be so good to have, let me fuck whenever, k-keep it and f-fill you up with my cum every day—Fuck!"

"Fuck your cum into me, Channie," you whimpered as his strokes became rapid and short, focusing on his head. "Want it, need you to fill me up. Wanna carry Channie's babies." Your words sent him spiralling.

"Fuck, y/n," he groaned. "Cumming, cumming. Inside—mmh! Gotta f-fill my princess—ah!" As his cum poured into you and his cock plunged deep, kissing your cervix. Your body convulsed and offered one last orgasm. You sobbed as you came, your cum mixing with his deep inside you.

"I cum," you whispered, "cum on Chris' cock, j-just as he likes." Chan laughed as he hugged you from behind, gripping your tummy, hips, thighs, and tits softly.

"Just how I like it," he murmured. "M-milking me dry, squeezing me with as you cream around my c-cock with your greedy cunt." He hummed into your ear, hips steadily rocking back and forth as he fell into bliss with the way his cum and your pussy felt around him. Once he was satisfied, he maneuvered you so you were able to lay down on the bed with him behind you. All the while, he was still deep inside you, a mixture of your cum trickling down both of your thighs.

"God, I love you, love your pussy, love you, so much," he mumbled as he rubbed your back, still buried in you.

"Chan..." you could barely respond. Yet, if you could, you would say you loved him, too. It was the first time he had said it, and he was buried in your full pussy. It wasn't the most romantic way of saying it, but it was memorable. God, was it memorable.

He stroked your tummy yet continued to hum, as if he were lulling you to sleep while trying to keep you awake simultaneously. It was as if he wanted to stay in this moment forever, perpetually buried in you and in absolute ecstasy.

"C'mon, love," he murmured after bringing himself dow, "let's take a bath. Get you cleaned up."

---

It was dark now and you lay silently on the fresh sheets that Chris had put on your bed. He had also blown out all the candles that were all practically puddles of wax. It was the late hours of the night, the kind of late where if you were to stay up a bit longer, you might be able to see the beginnings of the sunrise. Chan and you were about to go to bed. You cuddled together, him flat on his back and you laying partially on top of him. The air smelled the same as you: you had used the same body wash, the same lotion, and now laid on the clean soft linens of your bed. His chest beat slowly and rose to the rhythm of his gentle breaths.

"Do you think it'll work?" His voice was so soft, barely a whisper, yet it filled the whole room.

"What are you talking about?" You asked quietly, slightly fearing what he meant.

"Us? Our relationship?" Before you could panic, Chan began to elaborate. "If we are always trying to be the giver and not the receiver, how will there ever be a balance? Not like a... hierarchy, because fuck that." His words made you giggle, and you could feel a smile grow on his face as well before it faded with the next words he spoke. "But, still... I mean, we're both the ones who want to please the other. So... do you think we'll work out?"

You thought for a moment. With your head on Chan's chest, you swore you could feel his heart skip a beat as he awaited your response. Yet, he was joyous to see, through in the little light that played in the dark room, a delicate smile play on your face.

"I don't think it would be like a competition," you said slowly with almost a giggle in your voice. "I think that if we are always trying to be the giver, and always trying to be the one who pleases, then there would just be... a lot more love, you know? Always trying to make the other happy while still maintaining good boundaries, understandings, our own desires, needs... then, I think we'd be fine."

You glanced up at Chan, and through the darkness saw the faint glimmer of pride, love, and adoration in his eye.

"We would have created a house of love, not contempt."

You loved him back.

"I think we'll be okay," you finished. "We will work out. We'll be okay."

#Stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x reader #bang chan angst #stray kids angst #bang chan #stray kids bang chan #skz bang chan smut #Bang chan fluff

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moonlight-prose · 9 months ago

Text

FIRST LIGHT

➛ #01. ETERNAL DARKNESS

a/n: this fic has been shoving its way to the front of my brain for months now. so i finally decided to sit down and write the first chapter. tommy miller somehow snuck up on me in 2023, and now there's really no going back with this man. i love him and all his agonies. this is a fic that i'm really connected to and terrified to post actually. it's also a level of angst i've never put out before so i'm handing tissues to y'all now.

summary: tommy miller never thought he would end up alone. not when he had family behind him - a life that wasn't perfect, but good enough. yet there he was, kneeling on the cold forest floor - bloodied and bruised - asking to die. until light streams through the trees, and he sees you.

word count: 2k+

pairing: tommy miller x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, grief, angst so much angst it's actually painful, tommy wants to die, tw suicide mention, blood, death, grief, the horrors of living through an apocalypse, IF YOU DON'T VIBE WITH A TON OF ANGST THIS IS NOT FOR YOU.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

There was no light in a body split down the middle. A body filled to the brim with splinters and jagged edges. With a hollow emptiness that created an opening—a chasm.

He could feel how the darkness soaked in, filling the spaces where light once belonged—where hope used to be. But nothing could exist if pain—grief—reigned free. A wild ruthless thing, cracking apart whatever remained. Feeding off the shine that once thrived there.

There was no light.

Not anymore.

He ran through the woods, the heaviness of his boots snapping twigs and branches as he went. The cracking echoed through the air, sharp and loud, accompanied by the heaviness of his breaths. Each one, more painful than the last. His fingers clenched around the ripped leather wrapped around the blade’s handle so tight his knuckles went white. At one point it was brand new, perfect. A birthday gift from his brother. He called it special—once.

Now it dripped red.

Wild eyes darted around the surrounding area, his breaths coming in slower—an attempt to slow the erratic beat of his heart. He could still taste it. The pungent sting of copper that built up in the back of his throat like bile. He couldn’t tell the difference at this point. They burned all the same.

Sucking in a breath, he felt his chest tighten, his eyes red with exhaustion. The nights were desolate, sleep no longer a priority when nothing but memories of a past he couldn’t get back to plagued him. What he wouldn’t give to go back. Maybe then he could save himself; end it before it even began.

Birds no longer chirped the same. He noticed that three days into being alone. As if nature had taken her beauty away; an act of punishment for the selfish behavior of humanity. They took her for granted. Used her up until nothing remained; until her grounds ran red with blood. And this was their consequence. An eternity of misery, of reaping what they sowed from her poisoned grounds.

He stopped breathing, stilled every limb of his body, and listened. For the signal of people coming after him. Or something worse. For a blissful numbing moment, he wished for the latter.

At least then he’d have an excuse.

His palm was warm, slicked and sticky with the color of crimson that stained his skin. A red right hand for the man filled with nothing but regret. If he could feel anything, he might have laughed at the sheer irony. Once upon a time he wanted to save the world. Now he was ready to watch it burn.

Silence spilled out of every corner. A deafening echo he yearned to find relief in. His body had other ideas though.

Clambering forward, he pressed himself against the nearest tree. The bark scraped his palm as he clutched it, tight enough to draw blood. But the bile had built and built and he could feel his body beg for something other than pain. Tilting forward he went dizzy as he dry heaved. His stomach was empty—the food he stole burned a hole in his pack.

Would it set him on fire?

Would he turn to ash here in the middle of the woods?

A sickening hope entered his chest. As thick as tar and black as night. Yet for a man who had nothing to cling to—this was enough. This would have to do.

He’d take what he could get. In a world ruined by death, a bitter hope was all he could carry. He would continue to push this boulder of grief up the hill paved with the souls of the past. The ones who could no longer sustain the heavy weight of their own heart. Some days he wondered if he could keep going, yet every morning he still woke up.

A bit more numb than the day before.

But still alive.

He used to feel hopeful at the realization. Now all that remained was bitter disappointment.

He bit down on the inside of his right cheek hard to stave off his pained shout. Copper flooded his mouth, but this was familiar. As if his body recognized a taste it’d grown to know. Clutching his thigh and waist, he stumbled away from the tree. There was nowhere to go, no place to hide, but the drive to keep moving kept him alive. The need to be anywhere but here.

Blood coated his once white t-shirt, his jeans a darker hue of blue as the wound on his thigh continued to drain out. Tommy knew he didn’t have long—spots of darkness peeking into the corners of his vision. The threat of oncoming blackness.

“Fucking shit,” he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut as the burn of pain spread through his veins.

Images of the man flashed behind his eyelids. Blood, so much of it, filled his senses. He could still smell it, the hot flush against his skin as he pressed down on the blade hard enough to sever that link between life and the human body. How ruthless he’d been was sharp in his mind. And for the first time in a long time, Tommy was afraid of himself.

He killed the man with his special knife. The engraving Joel placed there—a reminder that his brother was always with him—glared back. I’m proud of you, coupled with the offset reflection of a man he didn’t recognize. There was no life in his brown eyes, no light. Only a thrill he’d seen before—a darkness he locked away the second it crept to the surface.

A piece of him that wasn’t human.

He bit down harder on his cheek, tearing through the flesh with ease. Would Joel be proud of him now? Would he look at him with the eyes of a big brother? The promise to protect him lingering in the brown Tommy knew better than his own. Or would he leave him alone all over again; claim he was a lost cause. After all, there was no use in saving the soul of a man this far gone.

Tommy’s breaths came in short, quick little gasps as he fought to stay upright. To push his boulder a little further.

But what was the use? What did he have left to offer the world? The man’s blood began to dry to his skin, into the grooves and lines of his palms. His fate line, heartline, and everything in between now coated in the essence of another being. A reminder that what he had done—what he’d taken—would remain with him until the end of his lifeline.

Being alone wasn’t new to him. Not when his only sibling had to grow up faster than he expected, leaving Tommy behind to figure out shit on his own. But this…the aching pit of isolation was something he didn’t know how to handle. He could still see Joel’s face, the lines of disappointment suddenly deeper than when he was younger. Pity in the brown that once used to shine with hope.

They both changed. They had to with the way things shifted so quickly.

Except Tommy never thought the only thing keeping him sane—the only tie he had to his past—would leave him alone.

He felt that overwhelming despair begin to swell in his throat, clawing to his chest like a beast starving for more. There was no one here to see him fail. No one here to save him from the darkness.

There was no one here to watch him die.

“Please,” he breathed, his voice ragged and raw from not needing to use it. As days came and went he remained silent. His words, trapped in the empty cavern of his chest.

There was no reason to speak when no one would hear his agony.

“Please.”

The beg morphed the longer he stood there, repeating it softly. Swaying on his feet. He wasn’t sure who he was speaking to. Who his plea was going out to, but Tommy didn’t care anymore. The pain that he tried to control—keep at bay for as long as he could—finally began to seep into his mind. Cracking the final pieces of his soul off like a bottle shattering on the floor. He begged for the release of this anguish, for time to turn back, for his brother to return to him.

He begged for death on a silver platter.

Unashamed, unabashed, and unafraid.

His knees slammed against the forest floor as he fell, his body sagging forward slightly, hands clutching onto his waist as blood spilled down his leg. If he didn’t patch himself up and chose to remain this way, he’d eventually bleed out. Right here on the dirt. He’d return to the Earth, become one with the moss that would eventually grow over his body.

Even that seemed like the better choice than this.

Fighting to live without end. In a world that would be happy to see him get snuffed out like a candle. Entirely blown away with nature’s breath. Her viciousness finally coming to fruition.

He gasped for a breath. Hot tears spilled over his scraped cheeks, his blood split lip from fighting now burning with the salt. Only this time he didn’t try to stop himself, sober his emotions and gather his surroundings. This time, he sunk into the darkness that ate away at his soul, consuming him bit by bit like a decadent meal it wanted to savor. He was its sustaining life force.

Until there was nothing left of him.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice cracking from the strain of the truth.

Tommy had never known an emotion quite like this. He never knew what welcoming death meant. Although he supposed a man would never know until he was faced with its truth; until something pushed him far enough.

He’d seen Joel go through it. Watched as his brother grappled with the decision to stay alive, and he would have joined Sarah soon enough. If Tommy hadn’t shoved his hand out of the way. Joel claims he flinched, Tommy knew the truth. He didn’t flinch, he stood still as stone with his eyes closed…he never saw Tommy’s hand coming.

But Joel would never know the truth.

A soft grin played on his lips as memories of his brother and niece flashed behind his eyes. Like a movie reel playing in a lonesome theater. He was the only person sitting there, transfixed to the screen. And Tommy would have spent the rest of his life there, watching. At least there he felt joy, hope. Emotions he thought he’d never have again.

“Please,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering open to see the light that filtered through the branches.

It fell on the floor like a spotlight, playing along it like water, and he found himself breathless to its beauty. Nature was extending her hand gently, offering him the last bit of beauty he’d get to witness. Placing a small amount of peace at his feet in retribution for what he’d gone through; what he was giving up. Tommy’s wounds continued to bleed, but for that brief moment…he didn’t feel a thing.

No pain, no hurt.

Just peace.

Something cracked in the distance, a twig breaking under the boot of someone, but he felt no need to react. The blade lay on the ground beside him, still bloody, still tainted with his guilt and regret. But there was no use picking it up now. He was already too far gone. Another helpless soul lost to a world on fire.

He could see it now. The sunlight illuminated behind their body, a soft voice echoing in the distance, and his lips curved into yet another smile. Was this nature? Had she come to lead him? Tommy gasped in another breath, forcing his eyes to focus, and yet all he could see was a blurred sight of this being. They practically glowed as they approached quicker than before.

“Hi,” he murmured, eyes wide yet unseeing.

Soft warm hands cupped his face, tilted his head, and replied something he couldn’t hear. But the light was too bright, too welcoming, and Tommy was so fucking tired. More words came, questions. He heard nothing. Just the softness of their touch, the gentleness of their nature, until it all faded. And nothing remained.

#catch me hiding for a WEEK after posting this #to all the tommy girlies i formally hand in my apology now #joy? i don't know her #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x f!reader #tommy miller #tommy miller fic #the last of us fic #my writing

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lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom · 11 months ago

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Headaches

Wrecker x Reader

Summary- Wrecker always goes to reader for help with his constant headaches. Based on S 1, Ep 5-7 when Wreckers inhibitor chip was giving him bad headaches!

A/N- Hello fellow readers!! This is my second piece in TBB fandom, so i'm still learning the characters. Thanks for bearing with me! XoXo

Word Count- 838

Wrecker's groans filled the air. A hand clutching his head, eyes screwed shut, and head barred down.

Everyone was settling back on Ord Mantell after a successful bounty captured.

"You alright?" Hunter asked, before you could even turn to face Wrecker.

"Yeah, yeah." Wrecker peaked his head up, eyes trained on you. "Its just a headache..." Hunter wasn't convinced, but let it be.

Wrecker doesn't shift his gaze, giving you puppy-dog eyes.

With a smile on your face, you stand from your seat.

"C'mon Wrecker, it's getting late. Some sleep will help." This had become a common unfortunate for Wrecker. No one knew what was plaguing his head-splitting headaches, and Wrecker didn't want to drag the team down with them.

Wrecker grumbled but blindly followed you into one of Cid's unoccupied rooms.

He immediately threw himself onto the bed. You closed the door and ushered him back up so he could take the bulk of his armor off. He whined but did as he was told and sat up.

You reached him, gently resting your hands on either side of his face. Rubbing small circles with your thumbs. You stood between his legs, knees pressing on the side of the bed.

He leaned into your left palm, letting you hold his face. With eyes closed, he let out a sigh. His face was warm and heavy. For a second you thought you might have seen the stream of pain make its way to his temple. He flinched, but not at your touch.

"Bad one this time?" You babied him slightly, but who else was there to take care of him?

"They're all bad!" He exclaimed, arms going up and head rising sharply. He had a continuous headache for three days now, only having temporary relief with med patches.

You gave a small pout as he regretted his actions, pain striking him again. He signed deeply and you caressed his cheek with one hand, looking down at him.

"Okay, big guy. I get it, let's get you out of this." He mumbled a few words, likely about resisting, but he let you freely touch him.

You clipped off his arm plates first, then moved on to his chest-plate. Your hands lingered on his newly exposed body glove. He noticed, but didn't mention it.

The moment you slipped it off, his body slouched in exhaustion. You decided to play your cards.

"Poor baby... always protecting your team so well"

He looked up at you, nodding as he slowly got closer to you.

"And putting everyone before yourself."

He nodded again, lips slightly parted, hungry for your approval.

"What would we ever do without you?" You sold it with your last line, adding a sigh and a brush against his cheek.

He melted into you, arms wrapping around your waist, head falling to your breast. He squeezed you tight, letting out the day's stress.

"Die I guess."

With a laugh you let him do as he pleased, rubbing his back. The other hand brought up to rest on his neck.

After a few minutes of silence you pulled back. Between the long of the day hitting and your legs feeling numb, you were tired.

Wrecker gave a small whine when you did so, feet shuffling.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing, just tired." You stepped away to pull back the covers of the bed. He sat still, watching you. His mind was hazy from his headache, it hurt to move.

He hummed, shifting when you came back to him. You stretched out your hands, taking his. With a slight pull he stood up, towering over you.

It was comical how large he was, yet he still bent at your every word. He grasped onto every sentence, every command you gave him. Sometimes he felt that his only purpose was to serve you, not the Empire or Republic. Nothing you could do would even tempt him to hurt you. Even though he could snap you in seconds.

His head lowered, ready to follow you into bed.

"Hold on." You quickly turned to switch the lights off. His hand never left yours.

You crawled into bed first, Wrecker impossibly close behind you. You turned with your arms open, he obeyed and settled between them.

His weight was heavy on you, even just him snuggled onto your left half. The pressure was nothing but comforting to you, though. His head rested on your chest, arms wrapped around your side.

You beckoned him closer with a hand to his head, the other resting on his bicep.

"Sleep, ill still be here in the morning."

"I know..." He seemed already half-asleep by his slurred words.

"Good night, big guy."

It only took a minute for Wrecker to fall asleep. You let out a contented sigh. You worried his pain would keep him awake, as it had in the past.

Even with him asleep, you gently rubbed his temples. You basked in the comfort you were able to give.

While his headache might still be there in the morning, you would be there too.

A/N- Thank you so much for reading!

Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

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sadnymi · 10 months ago

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"My Dreams Are Just Dreams... Until They're Not" modern Mattheo riddle × reader [ chapter three ]

[Previous chapter] [Next chapter]

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language,childhood trauma ,abusing, cheating ( not the main characters)

Please understand that from this chapter onwards, the story will delve into darker themes. I urge you to pay close attention to the trigger warnings provided.

words: 2,216

Reading Time : 8mins 26sec

Summery: A week at my best friend's beach house, surrounded by our friends as we meet her soon-to-be fiancé's companions, marks a turning point where the very fabric of my beliefs begins to unravel. It's during this week that I encounter the boy who incessantly appears in my dreams, blurring the distinction between the world of my subconscious and the tangible reality before me. Matthe Riddle emerges as the poison I willingly imbibe, a curse that feels akin to a dream, weaving its tendrils into the very essence of my being.

[ Gif is not mine ]

Red – the hue of blood, the symbol of power, the embodiment of pain. All I could see was red, engulfing my vision in a swirling, crimson haze.

“ you can’t hide forever princess “

Close your eyes and breathe he can’t hurt you- if you can’t see him that’s mean he won’t be able to see you

“ comon , daddy hates waiting princess, he’s going to punish you when he finds you “ shut up - shut up - shut up

Then I hear it—the sound of his steps, each one drawing him nearer and nearer.

“ he’s not coming you mean nothing to him you know? Why would the heir of the most powerful house care about someone insignificant, someone so worthless like you “

“ liar “ I screamed and then it was red all over again all I saw was red

I jolt awake, gasping for air as the tendrils of the nightmare slowly release their grip on me. My heart pounds erratically in my chest, echoing the frantic rhythm of my dreams. Sweat beads on my forehead, and I take deep, ragged breaths, trying to ground myself in reality.

I sit up in bed, my body trembling with the aftershocks of the nightmare. I run a hand through my disheveled hair, trying to calm the racing thoughts in my mind.

" must not fear," I repeated

" | must not let it consume me, fear has no power if he did not find a body to take “

I rush to the window, desperate for a breath of fresh air to quell the turmoil swirling within me. But as I peer outside, my heart lurches in my chest at the sight of him, his gaze locking onto mine. A wave of uncertainty washes over me, leaving me paralyzed with indecision—uncertain if this encounter is real or merely a continuation of the haunting dreams that plague my nights.

Fingers trembling, I hastily pull on my hoodie, seeking refuge in its familiar embrace as I make my way downstairs. Each step feels heavy with apprehension as I navigate the familiar path to the spot where I last saw him standing outside my window. My mind races with questions, my emotions tangled in a web of fear and longing.

As I reach the spot, the air around me feels charged with tension, thick with unspoken words and unanswered questions. I stand there, searching the darkness for any sign of him, my heart pounding in my chest as I grapple with the overwhelming rush of emotions that threaten to consume me.

"Please, tell me I'm not dreaming," I implore, my voice trembling with fear as I search his eyes for reassurance.

He appears bewildered but responds softly, "You're not dreaming, love."

The weight of his words offers a brief respite, but the turmoil within me refuses to be quelled. "What's wrong with me?" I whisper, tears threatening to spill over. "Something is wrong with me."

The floodgates open, and I succumb to the overwhelming wave of emotion, tears streaming down my cheeks in front of him. I despise my vulnerability, yet I cannot suppress the torrent of fear that grips me—the echo of the monster's voice from my nightmare still clawing at the edges of my consciousness.

"I... I don't know what to do," I manage to say between sobs, my words barely audible through the tears.

Suddenly, and with surprising swiftness, he enfolds me in his arms, drawing me close until I can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my chest. The warmth of his embrace offers a fleeting sense of familiarity, a small respite from the overwhelming flood of emotions threatening to engulf me.

As I bury my face in his chest, the tears continue to flow, unchecked and unbidden. Despite my efforts to maintain composure, I find myself crumbling under the weight of my fears and insecurities.

But he holds me steadfastly, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm raging within me. With each gentle stroke of his hand against my back, I feel a measure of the tension begin to ease,

In the safety of his embrace, I allow myself to release the pent-up emotions that have been consuming me, to surrender to the vulnerability that lies at the heart of my fear. And as he continues to hold me, offering silent reassurance and unwavering support

Stepping back slightly to meet his gaze, I find his hands still wrapped around me, offering unwavering support in the midst of my emotional turmoil.

"I... I think we know each other," I begin, my voice trembling with uncertainty. "I know you said we don't, but I can't shake this feeling. It's as though I've known you before, as though we're connected in some inexplicable way. I can't explain it, but I feel it deep within me. Maybe it's from another life, or maybe there's something more at play here. But I know you—I feel like I always have."

His touch is gentle as he wipes away my tears, his eyes filled with a tenderness that takes my breath away. For a moment, the world fades away, leaving only the two of us standing together in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

And then, with a softness in his voice that sends shivers down my spine, he responds, his words carrying the weight of unspoken truths and hidden desires.

He gently suggests, "You should go back to sleep and rest. Let me take you to your room, love. We can continue this conversation when you're feeling better."

Feeling vulnerable, I murmur, my voice barely audible, "You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

He meets my gaze with unwavering sincerity. "I think many things about you, but questioning your sanity is not one of them."

With his reassurance echoing in my mind, he guides me back inside the house, his steady presence a source of comfort in the darkness. But as we reach the doorway to my room, I hesitate, a wave of unease washing over me at the thought of being alone.

"I don't want to go back to my room," I admit, the words tumbling out in a rush. The thought of being alone in the darkness fills me with an overwhelming sense of dread, and I cling to him, desperate for his presence to chase away the lingering shadows of fear.

He pauses, gently brushing the hair away from my face before speaking softly, "Would you prefer to stay in my room instead?"

"Can I?" I ask softly, my voice barely above a whisper, unsure if I'm crossing a boundary by accepting his invitation.

"Yes, you can," he replies with a tender smile, his voice a gentle caress that soothes my nerves. With a grateful nod, I acquiesce, allowing him to lead us both to his room.

His room is a sanctuary of simplicity and cleanliness, a haven of tranquility amidst the chaos of my thoughts. The soft hues and minimalist decor create an atmosphere of serenity, wrapping around me like a warm embrace.

As he guides me to the bed, his touch is tender and reassuring, his fingers lingering against my skin as he tucks the blankets around me with care. With delicate precision, he begins to play with my hair, each stroke sending shivers of pleasure down my spine.

His touch is intimate yet gentle, his fingers threading through the strands with a tenderness that speaks volumes. I close my eyes, losing myself in the sensation, allowing myself to be carried away by the warmth of his touch.

"I feel bad, it's your bed," I murmur softly, a pang of guilt tugging at my heart as I acknowledge the intrusion.

He chuckles softly, his breath warm against my skin as he leans in closer. "Don't worry about that, love," he murmurs huskily, his voice sending a shiver down my spine his lips brush against my cheek with a feather-light touch, eliciting a soft sigh of contentment as I close my eyes.

As I finally begin to drift into a peaceful slumber, cocooned in his embrace, I feel his lips press against my forehead in a gentle kiss. "Sleep well, my love," he whispers softly, his words a promise of comfort and security.

In the hazy borderland between wakefulness and sleep, I feel his lips tenderly brush against my forehead in a gentle kiss. catch the faint echo of his words something that sounds like how he’s going to fix everything whispered into the stillness of the night..

As I wake, I find myself enveloped in a sense of peace that has eluded me for far too long. There's no lingering fear, no remnants of the nightmares that used to haunt my sleep. It's been a year since I last woke in terror, a year since the darkness of my dreams consumed me

"You're awake," he says, his voice breaking through the fog of my thoughts.

I turn to him, the memories of what I said to him flooding back, and my smile fades as I blurt out, "I'm so sorry, Mattheo. Oh my God."

He sits beside me on the bed, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of my emotions. "It's okay, love. It was just a nightmare. You were terrified, but it's just the fear talking. There's no need to apologize."

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the rapid beat of my heart. "I'm sorry," I whisper, feeling ashamed of my panicked reaction.

"Don't apologize, it’s okay “

"I must have scared you," I murmur.

He smiles, his eyes warm and understanding. "Believe me, it will take more than that to scare me."

I glance at the clock and realize how late it is. "Oh, God," I mutter again , feeling a surge of panic at the time.

"You looked so peaceful sleeping," he says softly, his words tinged with affection. "I didn't want to wake you up."

I want to tell him how grateful I am for his presence, how his calming influence eased the terror of my nightmare. "It's been a while since I slept like that," I admit quietly.

"I must go and get ready if I want to go to this party," I say, reluctantly tearing myself away from his comforting presence.

I rise from the bed, casting a shy glance towards him, my lips curving into a smile. "Thank you," I murmur softly, feeling the warmth of his nod and the softness of his smile drawing me in.

As I make my way back to my room, butterflies flutter in my stomach.

Relief floods over me as I reach my room, grateful that no one witnessed my departure from his room. Yet, as I settle in, anxiety grips me, threatening to overwhelm my senses. I try to distract myself, my thoughts wandering to someone with black hair and captivating eyes.

Closing the door behind me, I lean against it, closing my eyes and savoring the memory of his soft lips against my cheek. It's a fleeting moment of solace in the midst of my tumultuous emotions, a reminder of the undeniable connection that binds us together.

After a quick shower, I begin to prepare for the day ahead. Deciding on an off-shoulder, short red dress, I carefully slip it on, relishing in its vibrant hue. Sad started to put some makeup on couldn’t help but wonder what mattheo would thought about my look

I heard a knock on the door, and Sarah entered, concern etched on her face. She inquired if I was alright and mentioned that I had missed breakfast.

“ you sure you’re okay baby ? “

I smiled “ yes , never been better “

"You look amazing," she remarked with a smile.

I returned the compliment, "So are you. Green is definitely your color."

Sarah grinned, adjusting her emerald dress. "Thanks! I was a bit hesitant about it at first, but now I'm glad I chose it."

"It suits you perfectly," I assured her, admiring her confidence.

As we continued chatting, Sarah's presence brought a sense of ease to the room, and I felt grateful for her

“ I will be waiting for you downstairs “ I nodded with a smile

I frantically searched for my small bag before making my way to join the group. Suddenly, I heard it—a sound that chilled me to the core. It didn't sound like a dream; it was too real, too sinister.

Driven by an inexplicable force, I followed the sound, my heart pounding with fear. It led me to a door I hadn't noticed before. Hesitating only for a moment, I pushed it open, plunging into darkness so deep I could scarcely see my hand in front of my face.

And then, I saw them—three monstrous figures from my nightmares, lying in wait for me. Their eyes gleamed with malice as they fixated on me, sending shivers down my spine.

The pain and terror I thought I had escaped flooded back in an instant, threatening to overwhelm me. Among them was the source of my deepest nightmares, the embodiment of all my fears—my stepfather.

"You kept daddy waiting, princess," his voice echoed through the darkness, dripping with menace.

Paralyzed with fear, I could do nothing but stare at him, the realization sinking in that my nightmare was far from over.

Tag list:

@hereticdance

#mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo smut #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader

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