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purple-plum-petals · 8 days ago

Note

Hi!! I love your homicipher fics! Have you thought about writing nsfw hcs? Specifically for Mr. Crawling and Silvair? I hope your night / day is going well! :)

⊱ Mr. Crawling and Mr. Silvair ⊰ || NSFW Alphabet (A-Z) Headcanons

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Character(s): Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silvair (Homicipher/文字化化, Separate) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns, No Sex-Specific Genitalia is Mentioned but it was Written with an AFAB Reader in Mind) Warning(s): 18+ Content, Virgin Asexual Author, Cum Eating, Facials, Minor Objectification, Cuckoldry, Mutual Masturbation, Face-fucking, Sexual Fantasies, Tickling, Praise/Degradation Kink, Breeding Kink/Creampies, BDSM, Overstimulation, Orgasm Control/Denial, Dumbification, Dacryphilia, Hair-pulling, Light Impact Play, Light Breathplay, Implied Cunnilingus/Blowjobs, Cock Warming, Mention/Discussion of Sex Toys… If I missed anything, please let me know! Genre: Headcanons, Smut (Minors Do Not Interact), Fluff Word Count: 7,200 words Request: “Hi!! I love your homicipher fics! Have you thought about writing nsfw hcs? Specifically for Mr. Crawling and Silvair? I hope your night / day is going well! :)” Author’s Note: I’m still very much working on getting better at writing spicier content, and I had no clue how to start writing these kinds of headcanons from scratch, so I went ahead and just filled out the NSFW Alphabet for both Mr. Crawling and Mr. Silvair as a jumping off point! It’s definitely interesting to think about how both of these characters would be in a sexually intimate setting, especially since – at least in my mind – they’d be quite different from each other in a variety of aspects even if they did have some overlap on a few of the points. I did my best to keep each of their headcanons at a similar word length (which was kind of hard to do with my Mr. Crawling bias, but I think I accomplished it haha). Anyway, I hope you enjoy these headcanons! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated! ♡

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A: Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

👣: Mr. Crawling is immensely clingy after having sex, holding onto you and pretty much refusing to let go as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck or your hair. While he doesn’t want to get up from the bed or leave after the two of you have been intimate, if you’re hungry or thirsty or if you want to go take a bath, he’s happy to go fetch you something to restore your energy or help you to the bathroom to clean up. He’s quite good at aftercare, even if he doesn’t realize what he’s doing counts as it. Mr. Crawling just likes making you feel good, and he wants to keep you safe and happy! His favorite thing to do is help you bathe; he enjoys the way the warm water feels on his skin while he washes your back for you.

💉: Mr. Silvair isn’t too affectionate after the two of you are intimate, but he’ll check up on you and ask if you need him to get you anything. If your wrists were rubbed raw from the restraints he had placed on you, he would make sure to carefully wrap gauze around your irritated skin. If you were thirsty or hungry, he would locate something safe for you to consume to get your strength back up. If you feel sticky or gross afterward, he’ll carefully wipe your body with a wet cloth to make sure you are clean and comfortable. He lets you sleep and typically goes about his own business. Sometimes, though, Mr. Silvair finds himself watching over you to make sure you’re breathing steadily, carefully combing his fingers through your hair.

B: Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

👣: Mr. Crawling doesn’t have a favorite part of your body since he honestly enjoys every aspect of you but, if he had to choose, he loves your hands. He knows that they can hurt people and cause a lot of pain, but he loves the way they feel when you cup his face to softly caress it or whenever you thread your fingers through his hair. For himself, Mr. Crawling loves his hair the most (I know it’s not technically a body part, but I think it makes the most sense for him); he pretty much melts whenever you play with it, and his head is quite sensitive, so he blue screens whenever you pull at his hair or rake your nails across his scalp. I also feel like Mr. Crawling would be proud of his arms since they’re fairly toned considering they’re his primary means of getting around. Because of his impressive strength, despite what his thinner frame may portray, he’s able to hold you up and move you around with relative ease (he 100% can manhandle you, but only will if you’re cool with it).

💉: Mr. Silvair finds every aspect of your body fascinating, and he could probably explain why each part of you was interesting from a medical perspective or that everything was pleasant to look at in one way or another. If he had to pick a favorite part of your body, though, he would have to say it’s your head (I know, kind of weird, but he does appreciate your intelligence and, well… Ending 06 is my other piece of reasoning haha). Specifically, though, he likes your mouth. He enjoys being able to hold your head in place while your jaw hangs open, all while he just goes to town while you drool and choke around his cock. Don’t worry, though – he’ll find some remedy to lessen the soreness you feel in your throat afterward. For himself, he’s quite proud of his hands. Mr. Silvair is skilled at many things, and being able to make you come undone with his fingers alone makes him feel a sense of power (plus, you called them pretty once, and it made him feel good).

C: Cum (Anything to do with cum)

👣: Mr. Crawling gets extremely flustered whenever he sees his cum on any part of your body, from your hair to your face to your stomach. The sight of it alone on your skin makes his brain short-circuit and body flare up – it only makes him want to touch you even more. He likes being able to clean you up, too, leaning forward before he runs his tongue along your body or face, making sure there wasn’t a single drop of his cum left on you (even if now it meant you were covered in saliva…). He doesn’t mind tasting himself, but it most certainly doesn’t compare to your flavor.

💉: I probably need to ask you to stay with me on this one, but I think Mr. Silvair would probably keep your cum stored away in a sample tube or something along those lines, having a desire to run tests on it to see what he could create. Views your cum as a valuable resource in his research...yay? Maybe he could even use your release to invent some kind of lubricant since that’s not easily accessible in the other world and make having sex much more streamlined… or he just keeps it around to show you later and see your reaction to the fact he keeps your cum stored away in his laboratory to tease you.

D: Dirty Secret

👣: The thought of taking you in public, in a space where no one but you could see him, makes his mind race and his body feel like it was on fire – this man can act like a feral dog sometimes. I mean, even you sometimes forgot he was there, unable to see his form unless you concentrated hard enough, so imagine if the two of you went out somewhere in public and he (with your consent, of course), just started touching you? Groping your ass, his face between your legs as he runs his hands along your inner thighs… no one can see that it’s him making your face flush and not the excuse of a fever you told the concerned stranger in the hopes they would leave you alone. When you half-heartedly glare at him to try and get him to lay off for a bit, he just laughs at your expression… how rude!

💉: Mr. Silvar wouldn’t be opposed to having a threesome with another resident of the other world. After all, he would be curious to see how differently you acted when another person was there with the two of you, or if your body reacted in an unlikely way if another were to touch you. While I will not write NSFW for Mr. Chopped (the power dynamic there isn’t my favorite thing in the world), he would be the one Mr. Silvair would feel most at ease sharing you with; Mr. Crawling or Mr. Hood would be his second and third choices respectively since he knows how deeply you trust them. He might not even partake in sex either, just sitting off to the side while he lets another use you like a toy. As long as you know your his, though, he doesn’t mind watching you enjoy yourself with another (he has to be there, though).

E: Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

👣: Mr. Crawling has absolutely zero experience with this kind of stuff, so he would need someone willing to walk him through the whole process, show him what you like, and teach him what and what not to do. What he lacks in experience, though, he makes up for in pure enthusiasm. It’s quite flattering how determined he is when it comes to making you feel good, even if it’s a bit sloppy and unpracticed. His thrusts are extremely unpredictable, never quite finding their rhythm… It’s alright, though; he’ll definitely get better with more time and the more he gets to understand what your body likes. You just have to give him the time to improve, and he’ll be certain to leave you breathless.

💉: Mr. Silvair also has no experience when it comes to sex, or at least not any while he’s resided in the other world. He is a life-long learner through and through, though, and there’s nothing in the universe he’s not willing to learn about, especially if it has to do with humans and their anatomy. His thrusts are frighteningly accurate, being able to hit your most sensitive inner spots with ease to have you begging him to give you a moment to breathe. He’s an almost terrifyingly fast learner, too, being able to apply whatever new information he’s observed and gathered within moments. He can do it perfectly, too, and he does it in a way that has you questioning whether he was telling the truth when he said this was his first time doing anything like this.

F: Favorite Position

👣: When it comes to favorite positions, Mr. Crawling loves being able to hold you close to him while also being able to see your face (he has to kiss you during sex – sorry, I don’t make the rules). He enjoys the rocking horse position since it allows him to be able to hold you close while still being able to maintain eye contact with you and easily have access to cover your face in kisses. While he prefers being the one making you feel good, Mr. Crawling would also enjoy the cowgirl position. He’s happy to let you use him to your heart's content while being able to look up and soak in the pleased look that’s plastered across your features while you slam your hips up and down on his cock.

💉: Mr. Silvair personally enjoys the butterfly position, having you lay on your back atop his operation table all while he can watch and take mental notes on every single facial expression you make and every single twitch of your muscles while he drives you absolutely insane. He would also enjoy missionary, but he would spice it up a little bit by having your hands or wrists tied to something. After all, he doesn’t want you to touch him unless he says you can – just lay there quietly while he completely wrecks you with that annoyingly calm expression on his face. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy when you touch him, though. Mr. Silvair simply prefers being the one in charge and determining when and where you’re able to feel his skin beneath your hands.

G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

👣: Acts goofy most of the time during sex, even if he doesn’t mean to. He likes being able to make you happy, and he finds your laughter to be music to his ears. Sometimes you two will be having sex, and he’ll suddenly start giggling completely unprovoked, just finding the experience with you so joyful. Being with you in any capacity makes his chest feel light and fluttery as a sense of giddiness flows through his veins. He’ll wrap his arms around you and nuzzle into your neck, causing your body to spasm and tighten around him while his long hair drapes over you and tickles your skin. Overall, Mr. Crawling enjoys being more playful when the two of you are intimate since it adds to the overall experience for him.

💉: Prefers to be serious while having sex. He treats the whole process of intercourse like one would treat a research project which, honestly, can make you feel a bit annoyed in some instances (Mr. Silvair still doesn’t quite understand why, though). He’s methodical in everything he does, and being light-hearted or purposefully humorous isn’t high on his list of things to do. He has no problem if you want to be silly, however. He finds it cute when you try to see if you can make him chuckle. It endears you to him more, and it makes him want to keep you around for even longer. The only goofy thing he does is gently run his fingers up and down your sides while thrusting into you, finding the way your body wriggles and writhes away from his touch to be adorable.

H: Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

👣: I think Mr. Crawling would have fairly long hair beneath the metaphorical belt. His pubic hair would be thick, curly, and a very dark shade of black. He doesn’t really keep himself groomed (kind of hard to do in his world, plus it was never a priority for him), but if you would prefer him to keep it trimmed, he’d be happy to! He doesn’t care one way or another.

💉: Mr. Silvair comes off to me as someone who would enjoy keeping themselves groomed and their appearance well-maintained, and I mean every inch of his body. I think he would have either no pubic hair or pubic hair that was trimmed to be the perfect length. If he did have any hair below the belt, it would be a gray color, one that was a shade darker than his regular hair and wavy in texture.

I: Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

👣: One of the more human-like members of the cast when it comes to his affections; he’s as romantic as a non-human being can be. Mr. Crawling loves holding you close as he ruts into you like a wild dog, whispering praises against your skin. He even tries his best to learn phrases in your language so he can tell you how much you mean to him without you having to try and decipher it. He’s always so, so soft with you when you two are having sex. He’s honored that you’d let him have you in such a way, and finds your trust in him heartwarming – he trusts you, too, with his entire heart and soul.

💉: Mr. Silvair canonically doesn’t comprehend the concept of “liking” or loving someone, so that also translates into sex with him. All he knows is that he finds you entertaining to be around and that he’s somewhat endeared to you at this point. He’s not romantic but, in between teasing you and making you cry (whether it be in frustration or overstimulation), he’s checking in on you to make sure that you’re still comfortable. He knows sex can be invasive, and he’s aware of how much regard the act is held in by some people in your world, so he does his best to respect that... Even if he does need to check himself every now and again.

J: Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

👣 and 💉: Neither of them masturbates much because they simply don’t have a desire or time to do so. Mr. Crawling would rather wait for you to be there so you two can enjoy yourselves together, and Mr. Silvair simply has more important matters to attend to. That’s not to say they never masturbate, though, it’s just typically a rare occurrence.

👣: Mr. Crawling typically masturbates by rutting up against something, like a pillow, rather than taking himself in his hand. His thoughts before meeting you were just focusing on the physical sensation of his cock sliding against the fabric of his clothing, but now he finds himself thinking of you – the way your voice sounds when you coo sweet words in his ear, the warmth of your body. Imagining your hands gently touching his chest and hips makes him cum right then and there, almost embarrassingly quickly… Yeah, he’s down bad.

💉: Mr. Silvair treats masturbating as a chore. He’d much rather be doing something else than leaning against the wall of his operation room while his hand goes absolutely ham on his dick. He knows which areas on his body get the most reaction, so he purposefully presses all of his buttons just so he can be done with it quicker. This doesn’t change after meeting and getting to be intimate with you, though, he still sees it as a chore… Just now he imagines cumming on your face or inside you whenever he finally reaches his climax.

K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)

👣:

Mutual Masturbation: He likes spending time with you and doing things together, so why not spend some time watching each other explore yourselves? He likes observing you as you touch yourself, making mental notes of every spot on your body that have you biting your lip and furrowing your brows. While I wouldn’t say he’s into voyeurism since he does like being with you while you touch yourself instead of tucked away in the shadows just watching, he focuses more on the way your hands touch and caress your skin instead of focusing on the way he moves his hands across his body. Doesn’t last very long doing this, though, eventually pouncing on you and touching you himself.

Overstimulation (Giving): Mr. Crawling loves overstimulating you, even if he doesn’t realize he’s doing it half of the time. He just enjoys seeing you become a blabbering mess all because of him; he takes great pride in being able to make you feel good. However, the first time you started crying because he was simply giving you too much, he felt so guilty – the poor man was on the verge of tears thinking he made you feel bad.

Praise Kink: While praising you is a bit more difficult considering the language barrier and the limited amount of words and phrases he has to choose from, he still loves doing it. Muttering against your skin how you’re doing such a good job, how he loves you so much, how you make him so happy. Mr. Crawling definitely makes sure to reassure you both inside and outside of the bedroom.

Hair Pulling (Receiving): He loves, loves, loves it whenever you take his hair in your hand and give it a firm tug. Mr. Crawling enjoys it whenever he’s going down on you and you take his hair into your hands and push him even closer, making him become fully immersed in your scent and taste.

Sensation Play: While Mr. Crawling may not enjoy more painful experiences, he does like general sensation play quite a bit. He likes the feeling of your breath fanning against his skin while you pepper his flesh with gentle kisses and nips. He enjoys tickling you while his hips sensually thrust in and out, feeling the way you squeeze around him as breathless and airy giggles escape past your lips. He loves whispering into your ear while running his tongue along it before taking your lobe between his teeth and lightly tugging.

💉:

Breeding Kink/Creampie: Mr. Silvair, after learning more about human reproduction, has a deep-seated curiosity regarding whether or not the two of you would be able to have offspring. That’s kind of what starts this particular kink for him – he wants to know if you both are sexually compatible in that aspect, and he is curious what the resulting child would look and act like if they were born in the other world. If you’re unable to give birth or get pregnant, even if his initial interest in breeding is certainly from a more scientific aspect, he still finds the image of you full of his seed while it drips down the curve of your ass to be quite arousing.

Bondage/Shibari (Giving): He enjoys tying you up and pinning you down, being able to have full control over you in the bedroom. He’s perfectly content if you agree to light bondage, like having your hands restrained, and would never ask you to do anything more than that. However, if you trust him enough and feel comfortable doing some more intense bondage, he’s not going to complain. Would definitely be interested in the art of shibari, finding the way the rope looks pressing into your skin tantalizing.

Orgasm Control/Denial (Giving): Another kink that feeds into his desire for control. Mr. Silvair enjoys being the one in charge of your release, and he likes seeing how far he can push you until you finally break and plead for him to let you cum. He loves seeing how stupid and desperate he can make you, sometimes with just his fingers alone.

Overstimulation (Giving): Much like orgasm control/denial, he likes pushing you to your breaking point. However, unlike the previous bullet, he likes seeing how much stimulation you can take until you’re crying for him to stop. He thinks it’s fascinating, seeing how quickly your desire for his touch can change – one moment you’re begging for him to touch you, and the next you’re weakly pushing his hand away. He does eventually relent, of course, but only after letting you cry for a bit.

Dacryphilia: There’s something about seeing your tear-streaked face that makes it feel like he’s just been hit with an arrow in his chest. It’s endearing and oh-so cute the way you look while you sob all because he’s making you feel that good. It makes him feel proud, in a way, seeing you in such a pathetic state all because of him.

L: Location (Favorite places to do the do)

👣: He enjoys having sex with you on a bed (boring, I know), but he likes the softness of the mattress and the many pillows and blankets that can be used to bring even more comfort by keeping the heat from your bodies trapped. He also likes taking you in small, enclosed spaces, like an empty locker or cabinet (sorry folks with claustrophobia). Much like the reasoning with the bed, he likes how the smaller space forces you both to be immensely close to each other. Plus, these spaces bring him comfort, so why not mix the two things that make him feel safe together?

💉: Either in his laboratory/operation room or in one of the many different cages or prison cells that he has access to (bonus points if you allow him to chain you up hehe). Mr. Silvair doesn’t need a soft mattress or pillows to enjoy sex with you. He’s fine taking you on his operation table or the cold concrete floor of the small prison cell, even if your back moving up and down across the ground rubs your skin raw. He’ll patch you up after, no worries, but he doesn’t need a lot of bells and whistles to have an enjoyable time.

M: Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

👣: Sweet words and gentle touches. The other world is one full of violence and death, one where survival trumps all else. While there are entities like him who only resort to violence when either their safety or the safety of someone they’re fond of is in danger, it’s still not a happy or bright place to exist. Mr. Crawling does what he can to enjoy life, laughing in situations that probably aren’t even that funny just to try and make existing more enjoyable. Then you come along and make him feel cared for – loved – and safe, and he’s never been happier. Being able to lay with you, to feel you clench around his cock with your warmth while you pepper kisses across his face and let him know how good he is… Yeah, this is the life.

💉: Power and control. He enjoys being able to restrict your movement, being able to dictate when and where you’re allowed to cum and, if you disobey him, he’ll punish you with a sadistic smile on his face. However, he would be lying if he said that was all. Mr. Silvair thinks the fact you trust him with your safety – your life, your heart, your existence – gets him going, whether he realizes it or not. Trusting another in the other world showcases how much two people believe in the fact the other would not do anything to purposefully harm them, and you feel that way toward him (and he feels the same toward you). Whenever you call out his “name,” the one you had given him, he finds his hips unconsciously moving even faster at the sound...

N: No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

👣: Anything involving pain would be a hard no for Mr. Crawling, both giving and receiving. Even though his senses are dull and what would be extremely painful for a human wouldn’t be for him, he still doesn’t particularly enjoy being harmed. When it comes to hurting you in any way, that’s pretty much something he will never concede on. He doesn’t want to do a single thing to hurt you, even if it’s an enjoyable kind of pain.

💉: Pretty much nothing is off the table for him – Mr. Silvair enjoys experimenting, and that’s no different for him in the bedroom. The only extremely hard no would be coprophilia since he just doesn’t see the appeal nor does he want to test to see if he would like it or not. I also feel like he wouldn’t necessarily want a bratty partner or a partner who is constantly trying to take control back in the bedroom.

O: Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

👣: Loves giving oral 101%, and he will give it to you anywhere – in public, in private, while you’re sleeping (with your consent, of course). Mr. Crawling adores having his mouth on you, being able to taste every single part of you while his tongue forces its way inside you, feeling your release dripping past his lips or dribbling down his chin… You taste good, too, better than anything he’s ever had before; he might get addicted to it, to be honest. He eats you out/blows you like a man starving, wanting a chance to have a taste and make you cry out his name while you pull harshly on his black locks and encourage him to keep going. He’s very enthusiastic about it, too, putting in so much effort and energy to get you cumming on his face or in his mouth.

💉: Prefers giving oral over receiving it, but it’s not his favorite thing to do either way. It’s nothing personal, he just prefers using his hands, his cock, or a toy to get you off rather than his mouth. If he does allow you to give him a blowjob, he’ll place a collar around your neck and pull on the chain if you get cheeky – after all, he’s the one in charge here. Mr. Silvair enjoys making you kneel in front of him, watching you with a small smile as you take him into your hands and pump once or twice before taking him into your mouth. If the rare occurrence happens when he gives you head, you better thank the universe. He looks so hot, holding your thighs apart while he slowly runs his tongue along your length/slit and teases you until you’re asking him to touch you more.

P: Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

👣: Enjoys the slower and sensual side of things, but he typically can’t control himself as soon as he’s inside of you, so he ends up being somewhat fast and rough (not all the time, though... his thrusts remain immensely unpredictable no matter what, and he never seems to find a good rhythm to follow). Mr. Crawling enjoys the intimacy of sex, and he finds comfort in the closeness of your bodies while you two are connected at the hips. He loves being able to hold your hands and place kisses across your cheeks. Sometimes, he’s so caught up in the act of showering you with words of praise and sweet displays of affection that he forgets the fact he’s currently inside you and is supposed to be moving. He does see the appeal of rougher sex, though – it makes him feel almost animalistic whenever you two decide to set the pace for the night.

💉: Mr. Silvair can quickly switch between the two, sometimes almost at a break-neck speed, to the point it feels like you got whiplash from the sudden change of deep and slow thrusts to fast and somehow even deeper ones (he’s very precise when it comes to hitting those sweet spots inside of you – it’s actually kind of terrifying how quickly he can locate them). He pretty much does whatever he thinks will get the most reaction out of your body and acts accordingly – nothing more, nothing less. He tends to prefer rougher and faster sex, enjoying the noises the quick snap of his hips can draw out of your mouth. However, sometimes, he finds himself preferring a slower and softer pace. This way, he’s able to focus on and truly soak in the expression on your face and appreciate the way your body feels under his palms (this sometimes just leads to you cock warming him).

Q: Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

👣: Mr. Crawling is down for anything at any time. Pretty much, if you ask him to have sex, he’ll happily do it for you. Need him to eat you out or give you a blowjob, he’ll gladly oblige! After all, he is always pretty much kneeling, so he’s not being made to go out of his way to do it (even if he would go out of his way to please you). Want something more than just his tongue? That’s perfectly fine, too! There’s a private room over there he’ll gladly take you in, or maybe you’d want to try doing it in the empty locker? He’ll try not to take too long, but it’s hard since he loves being able to enjoy you to the fullest. So, Mr. Crawling can do quickies for sure, but he likes being able to take his time with you.

💉: While he’s not opposed to quickies, he prefers being able to have proper sex with you to get the most out of it. After all, he can’t exactly see how long it takes for you to break or how much time it takes for you to start crying and babbling if you only have a few minutes to enjoy one another. However, he does make it a little challenge for himself to see how quickly he can get you to climax. Mr. Silvair will even make educated guesses on how fast you’ll finish just by making note of your current expression, body language, etc. He likes seeing how flustered you get if you think someone is going to enter the room the two of you are in, begging him to go faster which only makes him want to slow down – how mean!

R: Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

👣: Mr. Crawling is down to experiment but, as stated before, he doesn’t want to try anything that causes him or you harm, even if pain is something you enjoy. He just has no desire to hurt you in any way, something which is quite different from other members of the cast who are definitely more sadistic (cough, Mr. Silvair and Mr. Machete, cough). I feel like he would be down to partake in certain aspects of BDSM, specifically B/D (bondage and discipline) and D/S (dominance and submission). He just wants to have a good time and be close to you, both physically and emotionally.

💉: 100% down to experiment with anything (except the previously mentioned coprophilia). If you wanted to try some breathplay or impact play or even blood play, he’d be down for it. I honestly think he would enjoy breathplay since it adds more to the differential in power that he enjoys so much (there’s also a stirring in his chest when he sees how much you trust him with your life, but shhh…). Mr. Silvair is a man hungry for information and new experiences, so yes, he’s willing to try a variety of different things even if they could potentially be dangerous – he’ll always make sure you return to your original form.

S: Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

👣 and 💉: Both of them are inhuman, which means that neither of them need any food, water, or rest to survive. Honestly, the two of them have unlimited amounts of stamina, and they can go for as long as you need them to (which could be two rounds or even eight – nothing is holding them back in the stamina department).

T: Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

👣 and 💉: Neither of them owns any toys because, well… you can’t access them easily in the other world. If they do end up there, though, they’re probably dirty or damaged beyond repair (please do not use nasty sex toys, people – infections and diseases are no joke).

👣: Mr. Crawling would be down to use toys on you! After all, why not? It’ll just make the experience more fun, right? You’ll probably have to explain what he’s supposed to do with them, though, since he’s not quite sure what some of them are for. If you want to use toys on him, he’s completely fine with that! Want to wear a strap and give him backshots? Go right ahead! Want to tape vibrators to him until he’s whining and writhing? He’d be happy to oblige! Overall, he’s pretty chill about it and is somewhat enthusiastic about adding toys into your sex life.

💉: Mr. Silvair enjoys using sex toys on you, some of his favorites being cock rings/chastity belts, strangely-shaped dildos, and vibrators. He loves being able to secure the variety of different vibrators he owns to your body, making sure to cover every erogenous zone he’s noted. He doesn’t typically want toys used on him (but he’d probably try out a variety of different sex toys on himself after a while, though, curious about how each of them felt or what they did), however, and the only one he’d be willing to use consistently would be fleshlights. He’d make you watch him use it, never once allowing you to use them on him.

U: Unfair (How much they like to tease)

👣: Mr. Crawling is very fair, and he always makes sure to give you exactly what you want in the bedroom. However, that’s not to say he never teases you, he just doesn’t do it very frequently. Sometimes when he’s going down on you, he’ll pause his minstrations to nip at or kiss the fat of your thighs, keeping your hips held down so you can’t buck up against his mouth. When you start getting antsy, he just giggles at your expression before returning his attention to that oh-so-needy part of you.

💉: If the word unfair was personified, it would be Mr. Silvair. I’d argue teasing you and making you cry – either because you can’t cum or have cum ten times in a row – are the aspects of sex that he enjoys the most. Edging you is one of his favorite things, though, watching you whine and try to move your hips on your own when he stops moving… bad move, though, because now he’s just going to make you wait even longer for release.

V: Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

👣: He’s not loud, per se, but he does make quite a variety of different noises whenever the two of you are intimate. He whimpers and whines frequently while you’re having sex – they’re barely audible, high-pitched, and come out sounding as though he’s completely out of breath. Sometimes you wonder if he’s in pain with the noises he makes, but he’s not. He just really enjoys being able to feel you like this as he pants like a dog in heat.

💉: Completely quiet most of the time. Really, the only noises you’ll probably get out of him are barely audible sighs or the sound of his breathing hitching when he feels you stretch/tighten around him. It’s not that Mr. Silvair doesn’t enjoy having sex with you, he just doesn’t express that feeling verbally. You can tell in the way his hand squeezes the fat of your thigh or the way his hips stutter when he moves in and out that he’s having a good time.

W: Wild Card (Random headcanon)

👣: Mr. Crawling loves taking showers or baths with you, though he leans more towards baths since it’s less painful on his joints (I headcanon that Mr. Crawling can stand, but walking for extended periods of time is painful for him – ambulatory wheelchair user Mr. Crawling when?). While yes, he can technically sit in the shower, having water spray his face isn’t exactly pleasant… He doesn’t view bathing with you as sexual, he just finds it relaxing as he helps you wash your back or you help him make sure all the soap is out of his hair. His favorite scent would have to be lavender – it’s very calming for him.

💉: He keeps a journal tucked away full of terms and gestures from your world. Mr. Silvair has a deep desire to understand humans and everything they have to offer, even if he believes it's from a stance of craving knowledge (really, he wants to be able to express his endearment of you in a manner you can understand). He has a page on kissing and different kinds of kisses, a page on gestures of endearment, another on hugging and cuddling… The fact that humans’ bodies release a hormone whenever they simply spend time to bond with another socially, a hormone that turns the dial on their brain for whatever emotion they’re currently experiencing, is fascinating to him.

X: X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

👣: Mr. Crawling is tall – and I mean extremely tall whenever he stands up (my man has got to at least be seven feet), so I can assume that he’s probably relatively proportionate under the belt. I feel like he would be big, almost concerningly so, clocking in at around 8 inches in length. Even though his size is impressive, his dick doesn’t have much girth to it and is on the thinner side, but it is thicker towards the base compared to the head (not that you can take all of him – you can certainly give it a try, though). It’s on the veinier side, too, with a very distinct and present one on the underside of his cock.

💉: Much like pretty much the entire cast, Mr. Silvair is also on the taller half of the height spectrum. However, I feel as though he would have a more modest, yet of course still impressive dick size. I imagine him to be 6 ½ inches in length and relatively thick from the base to the head with very little change in girth. Whenever you see his cock, you’re kind of awestruck for a moment because how can a man have such a nice-looking dick?? It doesn’t make sense! There’s barely any hair, there’s no visible veins or bumps, and it’s long and thick enough to drive you wild… Plus, it’s just really nice to look at, honestly.

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

👣 and 💉: Okay, so I know others probably will not agree with me here… but I honestly don’t think anyone in the cast has much of a sex drive, let alone a high one. I mean, they’re not human, so their cultural/social norms are different than ours, and I wouldn’t hold them to “typical” human desires on a biological/psychological level either. As I said before, I doubt any of them have been laid because sex just isn’t something the residents in the other world partake in – they’re too busy killing/fighting others, eating humans who find themselves lost in the other world, etc. Is this my asexual and world-building brain working? Probably haha.

👣: Mr. Crawling really only wants sex whenever you want it, but he’s always enthusiastic and does get aroused whenever you ask if he wants to be intimate. While he does love feeling the warmth around his dick whenever you’re clamping down on him, almost like you were hugging him and not wanting to let him go, he enjoys the emotional connection during the moment more than anything else. I headcanon him (and all of the cast, to some degree) as existing somewhere on the aroace-spectrum. For Mr. Crawling, I see him as being reciproromantic/sexual with an average libido – he gets riled up whenever you’re riled up, though there are times he does get horny without you needing to do or say anything.

💉: Much like Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silvair will have sex if you ask him to – he’ll make you beg for it, though, so he’s not as nice as the former. He prefers the control/power he gets from having sex rather than the sole act of intercourse (not to say he doesn’t enjoy the feeling, though). Plus, he finds the activity interesting since he knows it’s something most humans partake in with one another for a variety of reasons, from procreation to recreation. If you ask him to have sex and he isn’t in the mood, he’ll just use his hands or some toys and play around with you until you’re satisfied. I headcanon Mr. Silvair as being quoiromantic and eegosexual with a low libido.

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

👣: Mr. Crawling doesn’t need to sleep (you know… being non-human and all), but he’ll curl up next to you on the bed and hold your body close to his while pretending to sleep alongside you. It’s kind of adorable, the way his head is nuzzled under your neck while his legs and arms are wrapped around your body, holding you close to him like you were a bodypillow or large stuffed animal. While you sleep, though, he’ll eventually place his head against your chest, listening intently to the sound of your heartbeat and the feeling of your chest rising and falling with each breath. Moments like this, laying there with you in silence, make his mind wander to scenarios with you he’ll never be able to fully experience.

💉: Does not rest often, finding it a waste of time that could be spent doing something else. He understands you need your sleep, though, so he lets you do it in peace after you both have had sex. Mr. Silvair always manages to somehow make sure you have enough pillows to keep you comfortable or blankets to keep you from getting cold (you can’t help but wonder where he finds clean linens in such a grimy place…). Occasionally, however, he finds himself sitting next to you on the bed, fingers absentmindedly combing through your hair before he pulls his hand back as though you had burnt him – he doesn’t understand it, and he’s desperate to figure out an answer.

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pure-smut · 4 months ago

Text

sunshine.

featuring: Hinata Shoyo x f!reader

contains: timeskip!Hinata, best friends to lovers, unprotected s*x, creampie, slight overstimulation at the end

word count: 2.4k

note: all characters are aged up to 18+!

MDNI | 18+ content

Masterlist

a/n: if anyone knows the artist for the cover picture, I searched everywhere and couldn't find them!! Pls and ty in advance <3

When Hinata Shoyo left for Brazil, it was like an eclipse over your life.

You’re best friends so you still talk almost every day, whether it’s quick messages squeezed into busy days or a video call right as one of you wakes up and the other one is about to sleep. But Hinata was the sunshine in your life - a bright, burning ball of energy that powered your days. When he left, everything went a little bit gloomier.

You’re busy yourself with college – meeting new people, keeping up with classes, and making time to catch up with everyone from Karasuno. Still, it feels like a candle trying to compete with the sun.

So when you show up at a house party, not really feeling up for it but wanting to see your old classmates again, you stop dead in the doorway.

Sitting on the sofa, surrounded by everyone you know, you see shock of orange hair and hear a familiar laugh. Your mouth falls open.

“Sho…?”

Hinata turns at the sound of your voice, a broad smile breaking out on his face. The moon slides to the side, the sun shining again. Your heart thunders in your ears.

“Y/n!” he calls out, leaping up and sprinting over to you.

You’re still in shock when he scoops you up into a hug, squeezing you tight.

“You’re here?” is all you can say.

Hinata doesn’t stop hugging you but you hear him laugh, vibrating through his chest.

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” He pulls back to grin at you, brown eyes alight. “Are you surprised?”

You huff out laughter, your shock subsiding, and wrap your arms around his neck for another hug.

“It’s a great surprise,” you say, smiling hard.

It’s only when you put your arms around him that you realise how big he’s gotten. He’s a few inches taller than before and he’s broader than you remember, his shoulders hard as rocks. When you pull away from the hug, you hope he doesn’t notice the blush dusting your cheeks.

You both make your way into the party to a chorus of greetings from your old classmates. Hinata sits back down on the sofa but you linger, realising all the seats are taken.

“Um…”

“Sit here, y/n,” Hinata says, patting his thigh.

You don’t know why the idea makes you blush so hard – you and Hinata were always physically close, not afraid to hug or touch. Maybe it's because it's been years since you saw him in person. Maybe it's because...

You search his face for any sign he feels as flustered as you but he’s wearing an easy smile, his head cocked to the side as he waits for you to reply.

“S-sure,” you stammer out.

As soon as you slide onto Hinata’s lap, his arm snakes around your waist, resting his hand on your hip. His thighs are solid beneath you, as built as the rest of him. You obviously knew he trained hard in Brazil but you didn’t realise just how much he’s changed. You chance a glance at him, wondering if anything else has changed.

Hinata catches your eye.

“You okay?” he asks, flashing you a smile. “Comfy?”

Confidence. Hinata hasn’t only gained muscle in Brazil – the awkward teenage boy you knew has been replaced with a man. A man who flirts with his best friend, who invites you to sit on his lap with ease.

You wonder if he’s flirting because it’s you or because it’s his personality now. You’re not sure.

You’ve been quiet for too long because Hinata’s smile starts to drop. His eyebrows furrow.

“Seriously, you okay?” He lowers his voice, leaning in closer. “You don’t need to sit here if you don’t want.”

You shake your head.

“No, it’s fine. Sorry, I was just…” You give him a sheepish smile. “I was thinking, you’ve changed a lot.”

“I have?” Hinata looks genuinely confused before his expression clears. “Oh! Yeah, I grew like three inches!”

He grins wide and you smother your laughter.

“I mean, yeah, that,” you say. “But you’re like… bigger.”

You get the first glimpse of the Hinata you used to know as his cheeks tint pink. He rubs the back of his neck bashfully and you’re treated to his bicep bulging with the movement.

“Heh, yeah, I guess so.” His eyes swivel to yours. “You’ve changed too.”

This catches you off guard. You glance down at yourself before looking back up at him.

“Me?”

“Yeah. It’s like you get prettier every year.”

Your cheeks go hot. Hinata holds your gaze and you get a familiar feeling in your stomach, something you haven’t felt since he left. Intense, like you’re looking directly at the sun. Your skin prickles and you feel light-headed, like you’ve been sunbathing too long. It’s the effect Hinata has on you, that he’s always had on you.

Your sunshine.

Hinata’s hand tightens on your hip, not looking away. There’s something taut between you that thrums with electricity. You know there’s a party full of people around you but everything around Hinata has fallen into darkness. He’s the burning ball of fire in front of you, blocking out all else.

“I really want to kiss you,” he confesses, voice low and thick. “But I want to do it somewhere better. You deserve somewhere better.”

Your throat feels suddenly dry. You open your mouth to say something but your voice sticks. You give a small nod instead, not able to tear your eyes away from his.

“Let me take you out tomorrow,” Hinata says. “Please?”

You lick your lips to wet them and Hinata eyes dart down before flicking back up.

“Yeah,” you manage to croak out. “I’d really like that.”

Hinata grins like he’s just won a volleyball game, his ears pink. You both return to the chatter of the party but you feel Hinata’s thumb tracing circles on your hip, his hand on you the entire night.

You spend the entire next day trying on clothes and throwing them to the floor. Hinata had told you to dress nice and be ready for 7pm but he insisted on keeping the rest a secret. The closer that 7pm gets, the more frantic you are.

Eventually, you settle on a short black dress, showing just enough leg and cleavage without looking like you’re about to hit up a club. You’re finishing the last of your make-up as the doorbell goes. 7pm on the dot.

You open the door to see Hinata grinning, holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers, and your heart melts. He’s wearing a fitted emerald green shirt, tight across his chest and arms, in contrast to the fiery orange of his hair. If you hadn’t noticed the change in him before, you wouldn’t be able to ignore it now.

But Hinata’s smile falters as he sees you. He blinks once, twice, his mouth dropping open. His eyes trail down your body as his ears turn hot pink.

“Holy shit,” he exclaims.

It’s your turn to blush under the intensity of Hinata’s gaze. You gesture for him to come inside and he does as you close the door behind him. You barely have time to turn around before Hinata closes the space between you, forcing you to press your back against the door.

Hinata scoops his hand under your jaw, tilting your face up to his. You can feel the heat radiating off him as he dips his head, his other hand finding your waist. When he kisses you, he feels like molten fire.

Hinata’s lips are soft but his grip on your jaw is firm, only a fraction of his strength. You clutch at the hard muscles of his back, anchoring yourself to him. When his lips part yours to deepen the kiss, you give no resistance. His tongue meets your own as you moan into his mouth, melting under his touch. Hinata’s body responds, his cock hardening until you can feel it pressed against your lower stomach.

When he pulls away, you’re both breathless.

“I’m sorry.” He presses his forehead against yours. “I had a whole plan but when I saw you…”

Hinata tightens his grip on you, his fingers tangling in your hair as he cradles the back of your skull.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he finishes, shaking his head. “I wanted it to be perfect for you.”

“It was perfect,” you tell him and it’s the truth.

You’re almost dizzy and your skin feels like it’s on fire. You’ve always missed your best friend but now you crave him. Your hands run up his back as you reach up to kiss him again.

“Fuck…” he mumbles against your mouth. “I don’t wanna stop.”

“Then let’s not stop,” you say, kissing across his jaw.

“The reservation…” Hinata’s hips grind against yours on instinct as your lips reach his neck. “Our – ah – date…”

He groans as you lick across his windpipe, his bulge now apparent as he continues to grind it against you, his body moving of its own accord.

“I waited so long to show you…” He sounds so upset with himself.

“Sho.” You take his face in your hands, looking at him. His eyes are half-lidded and glazed over. “All I want is you. I don’t need anything else.”

Hinata’s face softens. He leans forward to bury his face in your neck.

“I missed you so much,” he says, voice muffled. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You reach around to run your fingers through his vibrant hair, feeling him shudder with pleasure under your touch.

“Show me,” you whisper.

Hinata’s resolve crumbles. He’s spent so long taming his impulsive side, the part of him that moves without thinking, without regard for consequences. But now you’re in front of him, asking him to take you, and the rest of the world goes white.

He dips his head to kiss you again, this time with intent. His hands grab at you, fingers digging into your flesh as he presses you flush to him, trapping you between his body and the door.

As his tongue laps into your mouth, he reaches down to grab your thigh, holding it up and forcing your dress to ride up over your hips. His bulge grinds against your clothed pussy, the friction making your clit throb with need. You tilt your head back and sigh as Hinata trails wet kisses down your neck.

With two layers of fabric between you, you start to whine, needing more. Hinata’s spent years wondering what you sound like, imagining the noises he could get you to make, but nothing compares to hearing you for the first time.

His movements are frantic, hooking his fingers over the hem of your panties before tugging them down. They’re not even fully off, still dangling around your ankle when Hinata unzips his jeans, pushing them down just enough for his cock to spring free.

Now it’s happening – now it’s finally happening – he can’t hold back. He grabs your ass with both hands, lifting you until you can feel his fat tip pressing against your hole.

“Are you okay?” he breathes. His cheeks are flushed pink, his lips red and swollen. “Are you ready?”

“I’m ready, Sho. I need you.”

Hinata presses you against the door as he pushes himself inside. He doesn’t want to go too fast, doesn’t want to hurt you, but as soon as he feels your walls around him, he can’t help himself. He pumps in and out of you shallowly, desperate for more friction from your heavenly pussy without going too deep too fast.

“Ah!” you gasp as he penetrates your needy hole, the ridges around his mushroom tip stimulating your nerves in a way that makes your thighs quiver.

You wrap your legs around him, encouraging him deeper. Hinata is more than happy to oblige, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he sinks his cock further inside you. You grip the hard muscles of his shoulders, feeling him reach the sensitive spot inside you.

When you open your eyes, you see Hinata watching your face intently, a notch between his brows. His eyes have done dark, that same intense look in his face when he’s locked onto something. Or someone.

Hinata’s cock slides back and forth over the sensitive bundle of nerves inside you and you know it’s pushing you close to the edge.

“T-there, Sho…” you whimper. “Right there, fuck-!”

Your voice is so sweet, so high with lust and need. Hinata picks up his speed, fucking you so hard the door rattles behind you. You didn’t know he had this in him, this feral side, but you’re more than happy to be on the other end of it. Your cunt is drooling over his cock, only making it easier for him to fuck you as hard as he wants.

“Sho, I’m… I’m gonna…”

You dig your nails into his shoulders, your toes curling as he brings you to orgasm.

Your plush, slick walls massage his cock, quivering around him as you cum. Hinata’s stroked himself to the thought of you before - many times - but nothing comes close to this. His fist can’t compare to the way you milk his cock, so hot and tight. But it’s your face that Hinata can’t stop watching.

The way your lips part, your features contorting in pleasure, your eyes glazed over with lust. Hinata knew when he left for Brazil that he loved you. He didn’t think he could fall any further. Until now.

“You’re so beautiful,” he groans, his cock throbbing, knowing he’s close. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Even as he cums, Hinata can’t stop fucking you. He unleashes thick ropes of cum inside you, still pumping in and out, a flurry of curses falling from his lips. The mix of your fluids is indescribable, the noise of your sloppy cunt only spurring him on. He keeps going until he can’t cum anymore, until it’s almost painful. Only then does he pull out, a flood of his cum following, running down your thigh.

“Holy shit,” Hinata gasps, releasing his grip on you so you can stand.

When your legs quake, he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you up.

“Fuck, Sho…” you huff out laughter.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, running a hand over his face. “Fuck.”

Hinata glances down at where your dress is stained with his cum and winces.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Here, let me clean you up. Where’s the bathroom? I’ll run you a bath.”

“Slow down,” you laugh. “Let me look at you a second, okay?”

You reach up to cup his face and he rests his hand on yours, turning to kiss your palm, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Let’s make up for lost time, hm?” you say with a smile and Hinata looks at you like you’re made of sunshine.

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artyandink · 6 months ago

Text

hyperthermia

Summary: Based on a request by @yinorathedragontamer. You needed a break from hunting, so you didn’t go on the latest one, but found you needed something to occupy your time. Just your luck that the Winchesters happened to return home when you were washing Baby, and you caught the eye of a certain someone.

A/N - Banners in use by @cafekitsune, first entry for Jensen-A-Thon!

TW: Set in S9 (so hot, scruffy Dean guys), and blatant checking out/fantasising

Want to request something? Drop a message in my ask box!

Want to join my Dean Winchester (or any other Jensen character) taglist? Go to my main master list and find the Forms link!

Dean and Sam ambled back into the bunker, duffel bags carried by their taut arms like they’d done a million times before, so what should be a bag of bricks was a feather. Dean swept his hand over his mouth while Sam’s went through his hair, both ready to crash from the wear and tear of the hunt.

“I swear, m’ready to goddamn pass out.” Dean chuckled, nails scratching over the scruff that had grown on his cheek. He’d been hit a few times - not enough to cause bruises and whatnot - hard enough to cause fatigue once the adrenaline of the fight was used and faded.

Sam could only grunt in agreement, trying to rub the effects of a long drive from Oregon out of his eyes, paired it’s the disgruntlement of having to listen to rock tracks in the car. “You and me both. But hey, we should at least visit-”

“Roger that.” Dean cut Sam off before he could finish, in search of you. You were always a sight for sore eyes after a hunt, no matter what you were dressed in or if you were covered in blood; he enjoyed the vision that you were. More than he cared to admit.

He checked your bedroom, but he only found an unusually neat bed and a clean room, which was a rare occurrence for you and had him thinking that you were kidnapped, which prompted him to take out his gun.

You never did up your bed.

He crept through the hall, hoping to the good God that his boots didn’t squeak, but then familiar humming of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ caught the attention of his ears, originating from the garage. Followed by his arrival there, where he spotted you. And it wasn’t only just the sight of you that had him standing up straight.

You, in nothing but a soaked through plaid shirt tucked into some tight denim shorts, the sleeves of the plaid rolled up to your elbows and drawing his attention to your pretty hands. Hair damp and falling just right and had him biting his lip and fighting off the urge to ruin your friendship entirely. Droplets of water running down your neck, that damn sexy curve of your slightly bent legs and trailing beneath the v-shaped neckline that the collar of your shirt made that he was starting to think was made on purpose to make him go insane.

The image was too damn sinful. And he was suddenly not so tired and ‘ready to goddamn pass out’, more like licking his lips and biting the bottom one as he folded his arms over his chest. Eyes trained on you. Yeah, not so tuckered out anymore and ready to catch the full nine.

His bed can go to hell, he wanted you pinned against the bonnet of his Baby, legs spread wide so he could fit in between and show you how much he appreciated the job well-goddamn-done. Did he mention you were washing Baby? Probably not, he was too distracted with the way your hips were swaying as you stepped to cover another part of his beloved Impala with soap suds that then trickled down your own body and made your attire that much more see through and you that much more delicious.

Holy Jesus of Nazareth, you were giving his self control a run for its money. And his self control was likely to lose the money and go bankrupt if he wasn’t distracted pronto.

Wait- but why was he objectifying you? You were doing him a solid by cleaning the other girl of his dreams, why the hell would he think about your legs like that? And your body clearly outlined by the wet, clingy material of your shirt that he was starting to feel jealous of because he wanted to be that close to you.

No. Bad Dean.

He licked his lips again, his hips shifting slightly as he fought a clearing of his throat in case it’d alert you of his presence. His mossy eyes trained so precisely on you, it’d probably let you know he was there anyway, heat radiating from his gaze.

He didn’t want to think about the curve of that pretty neck. Or the way it’d feel under his lips.

Neither did he want to think about those delicate hands - that he knew were tough as hell - holding the sponge that was lathering up his Baby. Or the way they’d feel working his - nope, too far.

Definitely not the way the shirt looked like it now had to be peeled off your skin to reveal the treasure underneath, because god-holy-damn he had managed to catch a glimpse of black lace underneath that plaid. He’d happily unwrap you like a frickin’ present and it wasn’t even Christmas for about six months.

“Damn, pretty girl.” He muttered, running a hand through his hair that was begging to let his feet walk over, grab your hip and pull you into him so he could lick up your neck to collect all the water droplets running down them. What he wouldn’t give to just pop the button on those shorts, get to his knees and work you until his tongue ached.

Right there. Right-frickin’-there. Against his Baby-

“Pretty girl? That’s what we’re calling her now?” Sam muttered into his ear with a snort, not loud enough for you to hear as you bent over Baby’s bonnet in just the right way to have Dean’s eyes sliding down to that gorgeous ass framed in those shorts that should damn well be illegal.

Dean was snapped partially out of his thoughts, left embarrassed and disgruntled and somewhat still ogling that God-blessed ass before he followed Sam through the halls, the latter of which was sporting a smug smirk. “H-Hey, I was just-”

Sam raised his hands in surrender with a small laugh, looking back to Dean knowingly. “Hey, if you wanna check out her ass, do it at your own risk.”

“I wasn’t checking out her…” Dean got an image of it again and smirked slightly, jerking his head to the side, “yeah, maybe I was, so what? Can you blame me? That thing’s-”

Sam held up a finger, shivering in borderline discomfort as his mind filled the blank. “I’m gonna TMI you before you say it.”

“I’m just sayin’, I’m a man. I have needs, where a female who’s a badass hunter and also happens to be gorgeous and also happens to live with us is concerned. And it’s worse when she’s handlin’ my Baby.” He gave Sam a sheepish grin, but the younger Winchester only shook his head in mock disapproval, grabbing the duffel with his pyjamas.

“I’m going to bed.”

“You do that.” Dean grabbed his own duffel, heading to his room which, to his luck, passed the garage and you working on the car. You managed to lock eyes with him, and you gave him a cheery wave. He returned it, and as you turned, his eyes slid down to the curve of your ass again, eyebrows pumping once as a smirk stretched his pouty lips.

“I’ll see you in my dreams, sweetheart.” He muttered before he disappeared off to his bedroom to live his fantasy.

Meanwhile, you dried your face and neck off with a chuckle, going back to your room to change into some get into some drier and more comfortable clothing with a smug smirk on your face.

You’d noticed Dean through Baby’s newly cleaned mirror that you could probably sing ‘Reflection’ from Mulan in. His eyes taking you in and licking his lips like you were the latest snack he wanted to devour. His hands itching to touch you, his mind going blank when you pushed out your ass on purpose in order to catch his attention.

That was just phase one of your multi-step plan to strip Dean Winchester of his self control where you were concerned.

“Mission accomplished.” You muttered under your breath with a giggle.

I’d really appreciate feedback, loves! Have a great day!

TAGLIST: @k-slla @hobby27

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #spn masterlist #dean winchester smut #dean x you #supernatural fanfiction

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obsessedwrhys · 7 months ago

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Can we have a part 2 Deadpool reader with the boys and maybe soldier boy too❓❓ if you want to of course

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Boys x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader's origin will be explained underneath, reader is still an asshole lol that comes with the character, mention about killing,death,gore, weed, drugs, Reader is gn!!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the seven, kiss kiss <3

Origin:

Quick summary, when you were born, your parents had agreed with Vought to have you be pumped full of Compound V so you could grow up and be a hero working under them, but the problem was when you were around 7, they changed their mind so Vought ended up sending several people to come to your house to settle the matter.

Your whole family was massacred in the living room during thanksgiving and when they tried to capture you. You were able to run away. Homeless and living on the street, you grew up in a life of crime, depending on nobody but yourself. Make sense? No? Good! Let's start now.

BUTCHER

To him, you were like a fly that won't leave him alone.

How he knew you was through Mallory, she thought you were okay and fit for the job since you hated Vought just as much.

Obviously he didn't like you once you were introduced to him and the two (M.M and Frenchie)

"No way am I lettin' a supe join us"

":("

Though after what happened to Mallory's grandchildren, the gang pretty much dispersed but wherever Butcher went, you followed. Since he was the only person you trusted... and also enjoy annoying the shit out of.

He'd head inside a club, relieved he hadn't seen you for the past few days so he decided to grab a drink by the bar to unwind.

"Whiskey" He said with his eyes looking around, paranoia shown on his face.

Once his drink was served, he would look back to find your eyes smiling at him, you were wearing a bartender disguise over your red suit.

"Did you miss me?"

"Oh christ..."

When you heard word that he was gathering back the team, you had to be there. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't?

Undoubtedly he had to admit, there were times where he was grateful to have you on the team but there were also other times he regretted it.

For example, that time when you guys needed to sneak into a lab to get something and the goal was to stay quiet but even that simple rule was hard for you to follow.

"Room's up ahead. (Y/N) I need you to—"

"Heads up!" You said as you threw a bomb at the metal door.

The explosion causing the alarm to turn on and it had the whole lab now on high alert. You shrug innocently when Butcher glared at you like he wanted to tear you apart.

Also, you enjoy constantly pissing him off. You can't die so you don't really care if he'll kill you for it.

"Maybe, if you didn' press the fuckin' button, we wouldn't have to come bac' to save yer ass from the guards"

"OOH GOD SAVE THE QUEEEN!! Please, cry me a fucking river. I got us the target didn't I?"

"He's dead"

"Well you weren't being specific when you said to capture him"

But it's fine, all his frustration will be solved once he uses you as bait. He knows you can't die but hey, it makes him feel slightly better watching you get shot at.

Despite your ups and downs, he appreciates you. When the team would turn against him on his insane journey for revenge, he always found you the only one still standing by his side. You're loyal and he likes that.

Compatibility? 75%

HUGHIE

You treat him like a child.

No seriously you baby talk him sometimes and it annoys him

"Awwwww is little hughie angry?"

"Stop..."

"Does baby want his milky?"

Since he's pretty much the only person who isn't that exposed to crime as the others, he's terrified 100% everytime when he's paired up to do any dirty work with you.

"Now listen buddy, you better start talking or I'm gonna shoot" You said, gun raised at the man who seemed to be begging you to spare his life in a language you didn't speak.

"I don't think he speaks English"

"Ah shit... ENGLISH!! SPEAK!! ABCDEFG??!"

"How is shouting in English gonna make him understand?"

"Eh, you're right"

BANG

"WHY'D YOU SHOOT HIM??!"

"Well did you expect me to pull out Duolingo and start taking classes?!"

You had to admit, it was a pain in the ass each time he starts giving you the cold shoulder whenever he gets mad at you for doing something terrible. It was like his way of guilt tripping you so you always try to apologise in your own ways.

"Hey..." You said, handing him ice cream.

"...I uh... I don’t like Strawberry ice cream... I thought I told you that"

"God you're so ungrateful!!"

Since he was such a scaredy cat, you try to tone down your craziness a bit. For the sake of him not going into cardiac arrest.

"(Y/N) STOP!! She has nothing to do with this!! She was tricked" Hughie grabbed you by the arm to pull your gun away from the innocent woman.

You turn your head to look at him, then at the woman, then at him again, then the woman, then him again.

"Ugh finnnne... you're boring..."

However, he does appreciate you trying to be a better person. Even you had to admit, after you met him and became friends. You noticed yourself being less brutal than you used to be. The thought keeps you awake at night and it scares the shit out of you.

But oh well, how could you ever say no to those scared little puppy eyes?

Compatibility? 55%

FRENCHIE

He's like your hype man which is concerning.

Not because you're not afraid to get the job done but also because you always have his back.

"Well... I need some gunpowder but I've run out of them" Frenchie said, telling Butcher that the plan was most likely not gonna happen.

"Hold on" You said with the typical comical ☝🏻 gesture before heading into a different room. Everyone exchanging confused glances at what you could possibly be doing.

After a few minutes you'd return with a bag of gunpowder while struggling to zip up your pants with the other hand.

"Don't tell me how I got it. It almost tore me apart" You said, rubbing your ass.

On stressful nights, you guys would enjoy smoking weed together by the sofa and share stories of your traumatic childhood. It's how you guys bond and it's oddly wholesome.

Also when he needs a shoulder to cry on, you were always there for him. You two shared a type of relationship that even Romeo and Juliet couldn't compete with. To be fair they're dead so they actually can't fight.

"Hey reader!! If you're gonna keep reading then you might as well give the post a like or a repost. C'mon, pleassssseeee pleasepleaseplease"

"Ma cerise, who are you talking to?"

Although he doesn't mind your behaviour sometimes but he won't tolerate it if you ever cross the line on something. He's like the owner who sprays water at his pet cat when they don't listen.

"What are you mad at me for?!?!"

"You damn near tried to get us killed!!"

"Hey! You're the one who said it would be a suicide mission so I made sure it was a suicide mission!!"

"WHAT?"

There's no way he can deny how curious he is about where you get your guns and things. He once went in your room to find boxes of dynamite and a RPG just placed against the wall like furniture.

Like do you have a supplier or are you your own supplier?

Compatibility? 99.9%

M.M

Everybody deserves second chances.

He always tells him that to calm himself down everytime you managed to fuck up a thoroughly planned mission.

"What did I say about pressing buttons (Y/N)?"

"Honestly I stopped paying attention after you said 'Listen here'."

M.M has to be the only person you fear to the fact you try very hard to avoid him, this is because his long ass lectures are such a pain to deal with.

"How many times do I have to remind you? You can't just go around doing shit like that. You gotta consider the amount of danger you'll put everyone in..."

"(Blah blah blah... he's still going... uggggh... make it stop...!)"

Unable to handle the lecture any longer, you ended up shooting yourself in the head.

"(Y/N)!" His tone more disappointed than concern since this wasn't the first time you did this to escape his talks.

You know that russian dollhouse he tries to build in season 2? Well you'd constantly be found standing or sitting near him when he's trying to finish the set.

Since you're aware of his OCD, you like to edge him on by sometimes rearranging the parts or stealing some of it so he ends up searching high and low for the missing parts.

You had to admit it was entertaining to watch him accuse other people for touching his stuff when it was you behind all the schemes.

I'd like to think that after every mission when you happen to die, he'd be the one in charge of collecting your remains so you'd grow back.

That's why it comes naturally that his job is to make sure you don't do anything extreme.

"Where are my bombs??!?!" You'd shout, storming around the place looking for them.

"I sold them. Thought it'd do us more good knowing you won’t accidentally blow us up"

"WHAT?! GOD! It's like the writers of the show couldn't afford another explosion for this season so they had to use this DUMB of an excuse!!"

Though he does see some good in you through the messed up parts, he once saw you give his daughter a cute teddy bear when they've been burned by Vought.

She still has the bear and M.M likes to think that maybe you have a soft spot for kids since you never had a proper childhood. That's why he chooses to understand you rather than just being ignorant about your behaviour.

Compatibility? 80%

KIMIKO

She finds you a little odd but she doesn't mind once she realises how everyone is used to you being like that.

Whenever you're bored, you'd come to see what she was up to. Just imagine you sitting on the sofa like a curious kid as you watch her write alphabets on the book.

She also tries to communicate with you since she thought maybe your fucked up mind would understand her better in a way. Like how in season 2 she was repeatedly writing 'boy' to Frenchie but he didn't understand, so she came to you.

"Woow... watching you try to talk to me is like watching a baby take it's first breath..."

"😐"

"It's beautiful..."

Turns out her theory was wrong, you had a harder time understanding her compared to the rest.

Since you're the only two people in the group with powers, most of the time you two are sent on dangerous missions together. It's a nightmare for her because everybody knows communication is key but one is mute and the other doesn't listen.

"(Be quiet! There's people in the other room!)" She'd sign to you but you were busy humming a song while throwing around the enemies equipment.

"Oooh, what's this?" You held up a Homelander figurine which made you laugh as you show it to her.

"Hey look! 'I'm Homelander, I'm God's favourite. I play golf with Jesus every Sunday."

"(Can you please take this seriously?)"

"You're right, you gotta stop messing around Kimiko! We have a target to kill here" You said and you threw the figurine away which apparently clashes into a stack of boxes that came crashing down. The sound making everyone inside the building grab their weapons and began cornering you two in the room.

"😡"

"Okay that wasn't me that was gravity"

For the boys, you were plan A and she was plan B. That's because you always end up rushing into a fight first which most of the time resulted in you getting dismembered, which she later comes in to save you.

For example when Stormfront had stopped you guys, your bright ass thought it was a good idea to charge at her even though everyone was signalling you to stop. Next thing you know you were just a head being carried by M.M, you ended up watching as Kimiko fought Stormfront with the help of Starlight and Queen Maeve.

"That's my girl!! Now can anyone lend me a hand? I think I lost mine"

Compatibility? 97%

Bonus +

SOLDIER BOY

You know the scene where he walks out of his containment with the gas surrounding him? You swore when you watched him step out butt naked, you could hear angels singing and trumpets playing inside your head.

Shockingly enough, he was the only person who appreciated your humour. Could be a generation thing. He's just relieved not everyone has gone soft over the years.

In a way, you feel like you've become his babysitter. Everytime Butcher and Hughie left to do some business, you were in charge of making sure he doesn't blow up anyone. You kept him entertained so he didn't mind. That's why on the hunt for his former team members, he immediately chose you to be by his side.

"I'll take red with me"

"Red as in the american flag or the russians?" You asked which had him do the typical boomer laugh.

"I like you, you're funny" He said with a strong pat on your shoulder.

Butcher doesn't mind you with him cause he trusts that you can keep him under control. Hughie on the other hand isn't sure if you can even keep yourself under control.

"Shhh... wait... do you hear that?"

"Ah shit, did I accidentally said my dirty thoughts out loud? It's just you look breedable in that suit"

Another thing he likes about you is that you're okay with killing pretty much anyone, just try not to overstep cause that could potentially piss him off.

"I told you he's mine" He said as he had you pinned against one of the trees, apparently you had shot Mindstorm in the head when he literally made it clear to you minutes ago that was his kill.

"Quite possessive aren't you? I can recommended a therapist I know. Her names Martha—"

"You shut your mouth before I shove my shield up your ass"

"Gasp don't you DARE threaten me with a good time!!"

At the end of Season 3, you would obviously side with Butcher when everyone started to turn against Soldier Boy. He had to admit he was kinda hurt though, he expected you to be on his side.

"So what? You're crawling back to him now? After what we've been through?"

"Sorry big daddy, but Butcher has been my day one and I also happen to love him veryvery much"

Cue Butcher rolling his eyes out of disgust.

Compatibility? 100% but after the betrayal? 0% 😔

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vhaos-chaotic-writing · 2 months ago

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Hello, Can I resquest, Transformers One, Yandere Sentinel Prime with a cybertronian reader conjux HCS

Oooh Sentinel Prime - lowkey, I believed I was gonna hate his guts until my very last breath. But I forgot I like fucked up characters that also have babygirl tratis (I mean - I am obsessed with Starscream, I understimated myself).（〃｀ 3′〃）

Yandere!Sentinel Prime (TFO) w/ Conjux Cybertronian!Reader (HCs)

WARNING: Yandere behaviour, possessive and obsessive elements, manipulation, psychological and emotional abuse, forced relationship.

Sentinel Prime is definitely a manipulative, possessive yandere that is not afraid to punish his Conjux with psychological or emotional punishment types.

You were older than both Orion Pax and D-16, a miner too - a hard working one who was always kind and tried to remain positive to everything, even when the guards were kind of jerks and your teammates got hurt while working.

Sentinel met you one day he went down to the mines to just say empty words and promises that fooled enough his blind admirers to keep up working hard. The moment his optics met yours among the other miners... he felt like his spark vibrated.

Uh, how strange - he was sure he was definitely disgusted by any bot, no matter if they were femme, mechs or none, that were a miner.

But here he is, thinking about you and talking Airachnid's audials off about you.

Maybe now he understood what Megatronus said about feeling his spark sing whenever Solus Prime was by his side.

Sentinel Prime started to look after you, visiting you down in the mines and trying to woo you. And while you were quite flattered... something in your spark knew something was wrong. You didn't knew exactly what it was wrong - but everything pointed at Sentinel, one way or another.

You tried to be polite and paint an imaginary limit line between you and the false Prime - but Sentinel knew what you were doing. And he wasn't gonna have it.

"Hehe... oh, sweetspark - it's so funny how you think you can just reject my advances! You should be grateful I have my optics on you, dear! But... Oh, well, I wished we had an organic 'fall-in-love' story to later tell our sparklings! But you left me with no options."

You were... confused. And scared. But before you could even step back, you felt a painful kick in the back of your helm, soon everything going dark.

When your optics onlined, you were met with a... new faceplate.

"Oh, thanks Primus! My love, are you okay?" The unknown mech asks as he gently craddles your faceplate with his servos.

"Where... where am I? What...?" You start to ask, blinking a few times before tilting your helm, staring with curiosity at the mech. "Who are you?"

The mech seems to smile a little bit more to then change his expression one to sadness. "Oh, my sweetspark - you don't remember me?"

The mech - Sentinel Prime - gently held your servo as both of you walked among the big, luxurious hallways of his home, explaining to you how you both were soon to be Conjuxes, him being a Prime and you were part of the guards. While on a mission against the Quintessons, you got hurt and your T-cog got taken, you nearly died! But your beloved soon to be Conjux saved you!

You just... accept it. I mean, you didn't remember anything (but something felt like missing inside of your system). But you didn't mind, you felt safe and loved in Sentinel's hold.

If Sentine Prime was not around because of needing to attend important Prime business, Airachnid is always with you - and she became a sort of... guardian. One who always followed you and kept Sentinel updated about you.

Sentinel blatantly manipulates you whenever you show any type of doubt or consideration on what he says or does. "My sweetspark, please... I nearly lost you one time. And I felt like my spark was going to die. I cannot lose you again, please. I love you so much."

It always works - after all, you don't know exactly who you were once are. Sentinel Prime is everything you have.

"Without me - you are nothing."

A few days after having woken up from your forced induced stasis mode, both of you became the Conjux Endura of each other, everyone on Iacon saw the event and celebrated. Sentinel Prime held you closely, snuzzling his helm softly against the top of yours, keeping one arm wrapped your behind and his free servo holding yours.

And you smile, preciously painted and adorned. But... something still, deep inside of your spark, knows something is wrong. But whenever you see at Sentinel's smile, you can't help but smile back and ignore that uncertain sensation.

After all - You've always been meant to be Sentinel Prime's conjux.

Everything is okay.

(ﾉ*ФωФ)ﾉ Vhaos out!

#transformers x reader #transformers one x reader #transformers one sentinel prime #sentinel prime tf one #sentinel prime x reader #yandere x reader #yandere transformers

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myeagleexpert · 2 months ago

Text

The Perfect Boyfriend ( PT 2 )

𝕭𝖆𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖕𝖊𝖔𝖕𝖑𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝕬𝖓𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋 𝖕𝖗𝖆𝖞𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖚𝖕 𝖙𝖔 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝕭𝖚𝖙 𝖍𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖑𝖞 𝕴'𝖛𝖊 𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖍𝖆𝖉 𝖒𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖘𝖞𝖒𝖕𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖞 '𝕮𝖆𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝖇𝖆𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖑𝖜𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖘𝖆𝖜 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖒 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖒𝖊

Doppleganger/Skinwalker!Yandere x YN (AFAB)Summary: Despite living in a pink world, there's a little voice in the back of your head that tells you that there's something strange with your boyfriend. It can't be anything important, right? (You'll regret not listening to it)Warnings: (Toxic relationships, obsessed relationships, mental manipulation, the smell of rot, description of death, description of fear and panic, a little sentimental smut, The thing loves you - too much.) Uncertain motives. He tries to keep you trapped. Some character will threaten to die, gore,long fic ( 12 pages +-) The term 'YN' and 'you' is used several times in the fanfic for better grammatical use, my first time writing something like this, so please be gentle. <3

𝕭𝖊𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊 < < 𝕾𝖍𝖊 𝕶𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖘 > > 𝕹𝖊𝖝𝖙

YN wakes up screaming.

She sits up quickly in bed with a cold sweat running down her forehead, looking disoriented as she tries to identify the dark environment around her.

“Shhh honey, it was just a dream.” A male voice, from the other side of the bed, approaches her comfortingly.

“W…wait-“ the girl tries to push the man away, still confused and tired, but the hand she uses to push him away is soon enveloped by his warm comforting hand.

“I'm here, sweetheart, you're safe and sound here.” He pulls her into a hug and makes her lie back down on the bed, pulling fluffy and warm blankets up to her neck. “It was just a nightmare, huh?”

Kain continues to hug her, caressing YN affectionately, small circles on her back and a warm hand in her hair as he wraps her protectively.

“L-listen….-“ she tries to break free but he quickly stops her, pressing a kiss on her lips to shut her up.

“Shh my love, you can talk about your nightmare later, okay? If not, you'll keep remembering and you won't be able to sleep anymore.” He gives her a few more kisses on the cheek “Let's go to sleep, okay?”

“You're safe here, YN. It's okay. It was just a nightmare. I'm here.” He continues to whisper sweet nothings in her ear, and then he starts to softly sing a strange song.

“Nana baby…… Cuca's coming to get you…. Daddy went to the farm, mommy went to work……

“You're safe here, YN. It's okay. It was just a nightmare. I'm here” He repeats. And again. And again. Even after you reluctantly fall asleep.

“Nana baby…… Cuca's coming to get you…. Daddy went to the farm, mommy went to work……

YN dreams with quick flashes of a disgusting creature, a rotten smell, a metallic smell… and Kain's smile. The young woman wakes up calmly a few hours later with the sun rising and the smell of food coming from the door… is he preparing something?

Oh, he was already ready.

"Good morning, dear!" he says, entering the room with the bamboo breakfast tray.

Kain places the tray on the dresser next to the bed gracefully and walks to her side, giving a soft kiss on the top of her head and then gently putting her tangled hair in a bun so she can drink her coffee properly. "How did you sleep, love?"

YN looks at him confused, not really knowing what happened or not… but decides to keep quiet about it.

"I slept… well, I guess?" she laughs, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek "But I don't remember falling asleep. What happened?"

Kain holds back a smug smile, choosing to focus on the feeling of YN's lips on his skin.

"Oh, sweetheart. You fell asleep on the couch yesterday, we were watching the movie when you fell asleep. I brought you here so you could sleep better in the room.”

“And… I was already wearing pajamas? I don’t remember that.” The young woman looks at the cotton pajamas, a white American pajama set with little pink hearts. It was a couple’s promotion, so Kain was wearing pink pajamas with white hearts.

“No, my baby, you were wearing that polka dot dress but I changed into pajamas.”

After all, he always liked to play house.

“Ok, my love, thank you for taking care of me”

“Everything for you, sweetheart.” He hugs her and goes to her closet, choosing the clothes for today’s work day, a habit he did when YN was late or simply wanted to be one less thing to worry about.

As soon as he finishes choosing the clothes, Kain decides to iron them while YN gets out of bed and goes to take a shower, locking the door for safety. In a long bath, YN tries to remember what really happened the day before, noticing that she feels slightly sore and tired, with her head too heavy for her body. The holographic bubbles mixed with the memories that she tried to connect in an almost random and disorganized way…..

I took a bath…… and I was happy…. I got a promotion at work…

There was a pink cake…… and some music playing….

YN gets out of the bath and grabs the pastel pink towel to dry herself.

I watched a movie, but I don't know what it was about…. I was with Kain in the living room, cuddling….. And the boss… had she sent messages?

The young woman takes a brush to comb her hair, noticing that it is more tangled than usual……

Yeah. She had sent messages. I saw the messages when I got out of the bath…. but what was it about?

As she dries her hair, she smiles to herself. It must be the photos from yesterday's party! How silly of me, I didn't even like the photos and shared them! Let me see now~

Wait… photos?

With a breath of realization the girl remembers, a deja vu connecting the loose memories and she holds her breath: the messages from the boss- ex-boyfriend- three weeks- fear- the perfumed path- rose petals- pink cake- panic- film- cell phone- door- Kain- rotten smell. But what happened for her to forget everything? YN has a script of what happened yesterday, but for some reason she doesn't remember the main key: Why was she afraid?

She continues combing her hair and notices that the back of her head is strangely sore, and not the kind that comes from sleeping badly… but the kind that comes from a blow. She lets go of the comb and with her hand she feels her head looking for the source of the pain, and finds a lump forming. Silently moaning in pain, she wonders how this lump got there. Kain is so careful with her, how could this have happened? YN does a quick skincare routine and thinks that if something has happened, she can check it on her cell phone.

“Everything is ready, honey! Your clothes are on the bed!”

“Thank you, love!” she answers to Kain’s voice. Hearing her answers, he takes light steps to leave the room.

As she leaves the bathroom, she feels that there is something strange, like a hole under the carpet. But that's not important now, not when she sees the clothes he's put out: an office chic look, there's not a single wrinkle or crease in the whole outfit, a sign of Kain's care, and there's a sweet smell on the clothes that makes YN feel like she's on cloud nine again, she picks up the clothes and brings them to her nose to delight in the sweet scent of fabric softener. Who would pay attention to these details about her? He's so perfect <3

What more could she want?

"Oh, how I love my boyfriend-"

Boss: YN THIS IS NOT YOUR BOYFRIEND.

Like a painful deja vu, YN remembers exactly the messages from her boss as she struggles to know if it was all a dream or not.

Boss: KAIN DIED IN AN ACCIDENT THREE WEEKS AGO.

She can see the messages on the bright screen of her phone, it was before she went down for dinner. She remembers feeling her heart racing as she tried to contain her despair. She remembers a terrible image of Kain in a car accident.

Boss: RUN AWAY IMMEDIATELY!

“Oh… fuck.” She curses in a low tone as she frantically searches for her cell phone in the room, the bathroom, and the dressers next to the bed. There is only one way to confirm, and she needs to find her cell phone. She has two options now: If this is a big misunderstanding from yesterday's horror movies, she will give Kain a big kiss for even doubting him, but if what the boss says is true… then she has to get out of there as quickly as possible.

In a hurry, she changes into the clothes he chose and for the first time in two weeks she walk straight ahead without looking at the pink bag Kain gave her. It accompanied her every day, a beautiful pink quilted bag with gold and pearl details, but it is small. Despite being a work bag, YN hardly carries anything other than her lip gloss, her cell phone, and other things, but this time, she needs to go further and chooses the black bag she had bought for herself. The bag was black and also padded, bigger and more spacious, with silver details and chains.

Before you freak out, let's get the facts straight like a logical and respectable woman.

She says to herself as she chooses silver earrings to match the beautiful silver necklace she is wearing. YN knows very well that she can't just go to the police station and accuse the man of being… I don't know, what crime is he committing? Anyway, until she proves that the man she is with in the house is not her boyfriend and a potentially dangerous person, she needs to keep a cool head. The police might think that SHE is the crazy one and humiliate the poor girl at the police station, belittling all her fears and anxieties.

The boss is my witness. The evidence is on the cell phone. …..And where is the cell phone?

She leaves the room with her bag and quickly goes down the stairs, alert, trying not to breathe too much of the air fresheners while trying to behave normally. Unfortunately, she misses a step or two, causing her to trip… but before she hits the ground, strong arms protect her from the fall.

“I could ask if it hurt when you fell from the sky, but… the stairs are closer, aren't they, angel?” Her boyfriend's voice is playful, but his arms touch something that gives him goosebumps, and not in a good way. “Why… are you in such a hurry, my love? Be careful going down the stairs.” He tries to hide it as he helps her up.

“I'm looking for my cell phone, er… honey. Didn't you see it?”

Act normal, act normal, act normal….

“It's charging in the living room.” Kain simply points to the outlet next to the couch

YN hurriedly finds herself on the couch, grabbing her cell phone and feeling a momentary relief at the thought that she would finally find the answer she was looking for. Her heart beats rapidly as she searches through the conversations with her boss.

Please tell me what's going on!

Boss: YN, can you format the document you sent just now? On page 3 you need to add the details of the client's project.

YN: Sure, I'll send it to you in 5 minutes.

The messages have been deleted.

The most recent one is from three days ago.

Her heart stops. Her breath catches in her throat. Her blood pressure drops to her feet. YN can't believe what she was seeing. She searches through her gallery and checks to make sure the message wasn't on other apps.

She feels like she's right on top of the hole the rug is hiding, but she can't remove the rug yet or she'll fall in herself. Kain watches her analytically from the stairs, still trying to decipher her emotions, wanting to get inside her head to know what she's thinking, why did she change her purse today? Why the silver necklace? He bites the inside of his cheek and tries to sound as normal as possible.

"Did you find your cell phone, sweetheart?" His smile is charming and irresistible, but it doesn't reach his blue eyes.

He's the one who turned it off.

You take a deep breath and hold your wide eyes, slowly getting up and going to the door "Yes… it's charged to 100%. I'm going to work now, I'll be back at night, okay"

Kain's smile fades "At night? You know I can't stand being away from you for so long." He says sweetly, leaning against the wall "Couldn't you come back before sunset? We could do something together…”

“You know my boss is very strict, Kain. I can’t ask her for an afternoon off.” Yn gives a weak smile, she could ask her boss for an afternoon off but she didn’t want to spend the afternoon with this strange man, now that she knows that the man is not the real Kain she sees him in a different light.

“Oh yeah? Maybe she’ll be in a good mood today.” Kain kisses Yn’s hand quickly, but unlike usual, there’s a dark tone in his words

“Y-yeah, maybe she’ll be fine today. I have to go-“ even though YN opens the door and tries to get out of the corner, Kain’s hand still holds her tightly

“Aren’t you forgetting something, dear?” Kain looks at her with an intense and possessive look

YN is slightly terrified when she looks into his eyes, there’s a strange atmosphere in the place. “I… ar… I ……” she looks at him anxiously and the motorcycle outside waiting for her, and tries to pull her hand away once more, however, Kain continues to hold on tightly.

“I love you.” He chuckles, lightening the mood and pressing another kiss on the back of her hand, but still doesn’t let go, waiting for his beloved’s response.

“….. I… I love you too.” Even with hesitant words, YN manages to answer her boyfriend, sealing the promise and completing the daily ritual.

Feeling satisfied, Kain finally lets go of her hand and allows her to go to work, waiting for the motorcycle to completely disappear from sight before entering the house and preparing something special.

At work, YN feels a horrible sensation of being watched, but how can that be, the work environment is something safe, right? As soon as the break is allowed, she runs to the bathroom, locking herself in one of the last stalls and opening an anonymous tab…. as a precaution…. to try to understand what Kain is and how she can escape this situation.

“A skinwalker is a mythological creature that steals the skin of its victims and disguises itself as them…”

“…… an extremely malicious and sadistic creature with its victims…”

“DON’T BELIEVE ANYTHING THE CREATURE SAYS! The creature will say anything to get the victim.”

“The creature hardly gives up on its target. In two or three days it gets what it wants.”

“The creature leaves no witnesses, so if you are the target of a supposed skinwalker, flee the place immediately and surround yourself with people. It will not be able to attack you for fear of being seen.”

“If you cannot get away, use silver objects to protect yourself…”

“RUN AWAY IMMEDIATELY!”

Holy shit.

In life, there are times when you curse in anger or frustration for being in a complicated situation, but YN sighed in such a way that all her bones roared in unison “oh… fuck.” While she was still searching for more information so focused that she didn't realize that she was the only person in the bathroom and that the lights were starting to fade…

“YN~” a voice hummed as the echo of the bathroom did its job

YN remained silent, mentally thinking that the person would leave, however, elegant and slow footsteps in high heels echoed through the bathroom until they reached the last stall, the girl recognized her boss's black heels and smiled in relief.

“Oh Boss, it's you!” she sighed in relief and threw her cell phone into her black bag “I really needed to talk to you! About those messages you sent, you know?” she started talking nonstop trying to get the subject moving, relieved to finally have someone to talk to about this and a potential help.

As soon as YN opened the door she was faced with a strange sight, to say the least. She analyzed her boss from head to toe: Her black heels were tight, her clothes were so wrinkled that it looked like she had just rolled out of bed with them, her hair was in a messy hairstyle… and she found familiar blue eyes.

No..... no no no no no no......please no....

“Yes, dear? What did you want to talk to me about?” she smiles uncannily with her red lipstick smudged and poorly drawn, something that the perfectionist boss would never allow.

YN takes a step back, the boss takes a step forward.

“Boss…. are you okay?” there is a strange glow in her eyes, like a reflection that shouldn't be there.

I'm in a place with people…. he can't hurt me here.

“…. I'm fine, my dear." The boss says with a frozen smile and an impossibly straight and rigid posture, her voice is like a musician trying to play an instrument for the first time, testing out the tones and tones hesitantly, like a robot would slowly carry the answer “I really wanted to… talk to you.”

Yn walks past her anxiously towards the washroom, washing her hands and fixing her hair while looking in the mirror at the boss trying to get out of there as quickly as possible. “Yes, boss?”

The figure slowly turns to YN, the sound of high heels echoing with each step that approaches the young woman “You're making a mistake, YN.”

“….er, what am I doing wrong?” as she dries her hands YN turns to the other woman anxiously.

The boss continues with the same frozen smile.

“Your…silver necklace.” The figure points to the necklace around YN's neck “It's against company rules to wear that kind of accessory here.”

“That necklace? But I've already worn it be-“

“No.” The boss opens her hand and YN feels her body freeze with what she says next “I came to collect the necklace, you must comply with the company's rules.”

“I can keep it in my bag so… I don't want to bother you with such simple things.” The girl holds the necklace and slowly moves away from the boss.

“No.” The boss says in a more authoritative tone “I came to collect the necklace.” She approaches the girl with her hand still outstretched.

He can't take my necklace… but… what happens if the lady gets in touch with him? The website didn't say this part...

YN nods slowly and takes off the silver necklace, handing it to the boss who closes her hand immediately before the girl could change her mind in the last seconds.

“Good girl, darling.” The figure approaches until their chests almost touch, when she notices that YN was looking at the door and not at her, the woman gently grabs YN's chin, making her look into her...his blue eyes.

“You know, darling….. you work a lot, you know? I'm very proud of you, that's why I'm giving you the afternoon off so you can spend it with your boyfriend.”

“My boyfriend….?”

“Of course, he's such a perfect man for you, isn't he? And he loves you so much, YN, he'd do anything for you.”

Come on, is he advertising himself well?

“…. yeah, he's…. like a dream to me.” The boss widens her eyes at YN's words.

“A perfect dream, isn't it? You don't want to wake up and live a nightmare, do you?”

Yn just nods and stays quiet, feeling the implicit threat in her boss's words on her skin. She grabs her black bag tightly and says goodbye to her boss, leaving the bathroom while the lights still flicker. Maybe if she had been brave enough to wait for her boss to leave, YN would have seen how much she was staggering in her daily high heels.

He's here! Why didn't the silver work? And I still had the big mouth to talk to the creature from the messages!

She sighs again and again, she quickly leaves the company. Who would she run to for help? She's new in town, few family members know, and involving anyone would be too dangerous… what do I do?

Where would I run to?

The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown, she remembers someone saying this and to add to it she completes: This kind of fear is like a snake that eats piece by piece of your body without a specific order, today it devours your toenail and tomorrow - if it feels like it- it can devour your stomach entirelyallowing the acids in her stomach, fueled by anxiety and tension, to season the meat so she can swallow it with more satisfaction.

Driving distractedly, YN's gaze remembers Mr. Thomas's flower shop… and for now, this will be her refuge until she thinks of a plan. The flower shop is quiet, only with old music in the background while Mr. Thomas, the good old man, is preparing a bouquet…

"Oh, Miss YN, are you back already?" He greets her from afar

The young girl feels so lost now, not knowing what to do, she wanted it all to be a big misunderstanding so she could go back to the floating pink world she was in, but the knowledge that something non-human would be ready to kill her when she returns makes her little feet stay firmly on the ground, makes her take slow and distracted steps that take her straight to the alstroemerias, the same ones from yesterday, and points to the flowers.

“…. I'll have a bouquet of those, Mr. Thomas.” In a monotonous and almost empty tone, she asks, making the florist stop what he was doing and asks her to repeat, fearing that his age is already getting the best of his attributes

“What did you say, YN? What flowers will you want?”

“The alstroemerias….. make a pretty bouquet, okay?” She takes robotic steps to the counter, waiting for the elderly man to make the bouquet. She trusts that it will be a beautiful bouquet of alstroemerias…. but for some reason she doesn't even know why she chose those flowers. The elderly man is experienced and knows that each flower has its meaning, but mainly the emotion of the person choosing the flower and the bouquet says more than they realize.

Mr. Thomas picks the best flowers from the astromelia and looks for some more to make a beautiful bouquet, at least to cheer up the poor girl. The old man takes the flowers to the counter to choose the wrapping and some messages and finds YN sitting, simply staring at the floor with her head down, distracted, with an anxious look on her face.

“YN, what paper do you want for the wrapping? The usual?”

Why hasn’t he killed me yet?

“YN? Are you listening to me, little one?”

Why didn’t he pretend to be my boyfriend… treat me so well? What are his intentions?

“YN!” in a louder but still soft tone the old man catches the girl’s attention

“O-oh, sorry Mr. Thomas… I’m just thinking about things. The wrapping paper will be…” she can’t think of anything, her mind wandering between unanswered questions and anxiety in her chest “Why don’t you choose? I know you’ll look for what best matches the flowers.” The girl smiles and pushes the decision to the florist who sighs worriedly

“Oh dear…. what's going on with you? Are you feeling okay?”

Please don't ask me that… not today…

“I'm fine but… I'm feeling… stressed. Work stuff, you know?” She pulls a hair behind her ear, as if she were tidying up whatever mental mess she was apparently having.

The florist narrows his wrinkled eyes at the girl, reading her like a book, then he does the most comforting thing YN has received all day. He approaches her, placing a hand over hers, with deep empathy and genuine concern that makes YN's heart melt, finding a true safe haven in the words of the old man, who looks at her as if she were his own granddaughter.

“It's him, isn't it? What did he do to make you like this?”

“Oh Mr. Thomas…” speechless, the girl lets her eyes water as she stubbornly looks up, preventing some tears from coming out

“What did he do to you, YN? You were so fine yesterday… and today you seem so anxious and sad.” He softly tells the story of the events, careful not to scare or scare the girl

Think of an excuse, YN, quickly…..

“....Remember what I said yesterday about how he was drunk and high?” the real Kain “Well…. yesterday he….. yesterday he came home under the influence, you know? Acting strange……”

“Did he hit you?”

“No… he hasn’t arrived yet.” The girl whispers almost inaudibly as she thinks about the possibilities

“… And, are you afraid of him?”

The girl, with no more strength to speak, closes her mouth and nods quickly as her heart races.

“I’m going to get something for you, keep an eye on the store, okay?” he whispers softly as he walks to get something from somewhere in the store.

Moments later a female voice is heard entering the flower shop.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Thomas!”

YN had never been a religious person, but she could thank God for sending Sister Martha at that moment. In a new city and trying to find independence away from her family, there were few people she knew and had made sincere friends with. Coincidentally, a childhood friend had recently become a nun and was being assigned to the church in the new city. The sister was wearing her church uniform, her curious eyes searching for the elderly figure to pick up some flower order for a temple decoration.

“Oh, YN! What a pleasant surprise!” the woman smiled immediately upon seeing YN at the counter, giving her friend a tight hug while bringing an air of purity and warmth with her “Long time no see, girl!”

“Yes, Martha… I missed you so much!” YN hugs back and lets her friend's genuine warmth invade her. After a few moments of hugging, her friend slowly pulls away and looks at YN with a worried look.

“What happened, YN? How are you?”

“Nothing, sis…”

“There's no point in hiding it from me, tell me what happened!”

If it were anyone else, Martha would have talked better in a friendly and non-invasive way, but being Yn, she doesn't mince her words.

“Last week I saw you and you looked like a model, why are you so… like that? Who's the funeral?”

My.... Martha, it's going to be my funeral.

“It was him, Martha…” she reluctantly confesses, avoiding her friend's gaze.

“Him? Who is he? Ooooh…. your boyfriend.” Sister Martha had never liked the real Kain and even after his return with YN was nothing but flowers and wonders, she was very suspicious. “Your demon boyfriend.”

An idea popped into YN's head, like hope being born again. As a teenager, before becoming a nun, Martha was a curious and mischievous teenager, who looked for everything, including mythologies, magic, witchcraft, and the dark world that happens under the bed when children go to sleep. Nowadays, she fights spiritual wars, dealing with evil and good in a very physical and literal way. Maybe, just maybe… she can speak in some code so that her sister can understand.

"I'll invite you to exorcise him at my house then.” She jokes but knows that Sister Marta is seeing through her and YN hopes she reads the subtext

“I'll need a whole team to remove the evil inside Kain's body… that boy of yours is a complicated man.” She jokes

"Complicated defines him well."

The two laugh a little, lightening the mood, but Martha asks again in a more serious tone this time, whispering to her friend like secrets in a confessional......

“You… are you serious. Do you really think he's possessed by a demon?”

“I think he's something… worse than a demon.” You sigh worriedly and anxiously “it seems like someone else… you know?”

“YN…” the young nun widens her eyes, she has a slight idea of what her friend is talking about but knows that the whole team doesn't have the capacity to solve this, it's something extremely dangerous and if not done right it could have bloody consequences. This should be dealt with by sorcerers, but YN needs something quick to deal with it

"Oh...."

“Oh my friend, I will pray for you. I promisse.” In an apopogetic tone with her mouth half closed, the nun apologizes as she walks away from the store, breaking YN’s heart and all the hope that had sprouted when she also understands the subtext of the sentence:

You are on your own.

The girl remains paralyzed, sitting on the bench so as not to lose her balance. She cannot think about how helpless and vulnerable she feels, as if she is in a philosophical debate about whether she should just accept it.

5 seconds later the nun returns to the store, looking agitated and anxious as she looks for YN, the girl feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

“YN!” she looks at the door then turns quickly, holding a package of leaves in the girl’s hand

“Myrtle. Myrtle tea - it's good for…. the cardiovascular system, for the skin, it's also good for stomach aches - and…. headaches and……” she searches for more answers while looking anxiously between the door and Yn's shaken face “Take this. It'll be good for you.”

The sister hugs Yn tightly and whispers seriously in her ear“Run away. Take this and get out of here.”

The nun still speaks loudly as she says goodbye again in an agitated manner “We'll be praying for you.”

YN is speechless with the sudden change in attitude and wonders if it was a message from God or if the nun saw something strange outside. Thoughtful, she doesn't notice when the old forester approaches with the colored papers for the bouquet and a surprise between them.

“Here you go, this paper will certainly enhance the tones of the flowers.”

“Oh, thank you very much!”

“Yn… I have something else for you.”

The old man puts a gun in YN's hand as he explains seriously, "They're just two silver bullets. One to distract him when that kid wants to threaten you and get out of line… the other for when he thinks you're a tough guy and you're putting your foot down on him."

Me… kill him? Are you telling me to kill him?

"Mr. Thomas, I don't think it's necessary…"

"There's no point in running away, girl."

He says so seriously that YN's smile falls and she looks at him with more questions than answers.

"You broke up the first time, and you got back together. You're trying to make things easier for him, and you're going to break up again, and then you're going to get back together again." He sighs painfully

"The cycle will only end when someone dies… and I don't want it to be you, girl."

The old florist was fed up with seeing rude boys pick beautiful flowers one day, and their parents come to buy funeral arrangements the next, apologies that turn into funeral invitations, beautiful flowers being crushed by ill-intentioned people, every day. Each story has a specific situation, but the cycle is the same: the girl dies in the end.

“With a man so obsessed with you, he won’t stop until he gets what he wants. He’ll go after you to the ends of the earth, YN.” The florist places his gentle hand on Yn’s hand and closes it, making the girl accept the gun firmly “This is for you to defend yourself… and end this cycle”

How ironic, from a place so full of life, YN left with two deadly objects in her bag and a beautiful bouquet in her hands.

--------

Unfortunately, the way from the florist to her boyfriend’s house is not very long and YN drives the motorcycle slowly as if she wanted to buy more time for the inevitable. In nature, the mother puts food in the mouths of the little birds because they cannot feed themselves and from one day to the next they are pushed off the branch to learn how to fly. YN feels exactly like this, her boyfriend took care of everything for her, from a hair out of place to more complex situations, in two weeks Kain had such a strong effect on YN's mind that she depended on him for everything and felt like she was floating in the clouds, without any thought or instinct for survival… now she feels pushed off the branch, struggling with her little wings to keep from crashing to the ground and fighting for survival.

When she reaches the door of the house with her heart beating fast, she realizes that she has no plan or strategy for this situation, just an instinct not to die.

It's him or me.

It's better to face madness with a plan than to sit still and let it take you in pieces. - the little voice in her head advises again

She could go back to her own house, but he would follow her there. She could go somewhere full of people, but eventually the two of them would come face to face. It could be at any moment. It's just a matter of time to postpone the inevitable, the anxiety was eating her up inside, devouring her stomach while her mind fought not to sink into this storm, looking for possibilities in which it would come out on top.

Fuck this. Fuck you. Fuck Kain. Fuck everything.

She knocks on the door with a blank look and prepares herself for the worst, clutching her bag tightly.

Is this how the victims facing the guillotine felt? A straight line to death?

5 minutes later, the door remains closed and YN decides that she will open the door herself and enter the house.

"Excuse me…. Kain?" She leaves the bouquet in the living room while following the scent coming from the kitchen. She looks for him around the house and comes across a breathtaking scene: The handsome man is wearing an apron again, humming some music with his headphones while preparing something in the kitchen.

“L… is for the way you look at me” he stirs the pan with something gelatinous, completely immersed in the music.

“O… is for the only one I see…” almost like a spontaneous dance. Kain takes a tray from the fridge and unmolds little hearts and places them on a crystal tray.

“V… is very very… extraordinary.”

"E… is even more than anyone that you adore can….." her boyfriend pours the appetizing syrup over the little hearts, it's a bright red, a mouth-watering syrup. But not as much as Kain, he's wearing a formal white shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbow exposing his strong arms and jeans that are tighter on the thighs, his locks are messy in an attractive way. For a minute her instinct tells her to bite him all over, mark every little bit of that juicy body and forget any stupid plans. His eyes widen when they see that his beloved has already arrived, taking off his headphones and meeting her at the kitchen door.

"Oh, my dear! Are you here yet?" he wipes his hands on a dish towel and takes off his apron, and hugs her, a smell of sugar mixes with his irresistible cologne.

"…yes, yes… what are you doing?" YN takes a moment to compose herself

“It was supposed to be a surpriseeeeee~” he whines, placing his head on her shoulder “I know you’re really stressed because of work, so I prepared a recipe for you to try.”

He leads her to the kitchen counter hand in hand before she can protest and takes one of the sweets from the tray, cooling it with a breath and placing it in front of YN’s mouth.

“Open your mouth, sweetheart~” with a hoarse voice he asks, placing the sweet in his girlfriend’s mouth “It’s delicious, huh? I prepared it with you in mind.” He whispers, keeping his eyes intense in her eyes, he licks his lips when she lets out a small sound of satisfaction

“It is…. but what did you put in here?” she feels her body go slowly limp and a strange heat starting to tingle through her body

“Nothing.” He grabs another sweet and eats it too, staring at YN as he holds her against the kitchen counter with strong arms “Just something to make you more excited… more relaxed” he squeezes her thighs, bringing her closer as he whispers in a sultry tone

“Let me take care of you, darling~” Kain presses a slow kiss to the girl's jaw

“You look so tense… what happened?” He could feel Yn's breathing intensifying, his own heart beating voraciously trying to keep his desire under control, needing to taste her once more, see her go crazy once more...

"W-wait, Kain…" with one hand on YN's delicate back, Kain pressed her tightly against him, taking her lips in a hungry and possessive kiss, frowning in desire, feeling the shivers on his body intensify

The juicy syrup was already delicious on its own, but when the creature put aphrodisiacs in it, it got even better. Everything was going well, everything was very good until the nosy boss spilled the beans, he dealt with it in his own way, but YN still remembered what happened the night before, he didn't know what exactly… but it was enough for her to move away from him unconsciously, wanting to be independent with that damned black bag, looking for answers to questions she shouldn't even be thinking about and worse… maybe she was planning to run away. He would never allow that.

The couple pulls away for air with YN biting his lower lip, making him let out a low moan “Oh my darling…. did you know I love you so much?” He presses their bodies even closer, practically glued together as his hand wanders inside her shirt, caressing the soft skin of her belly

"You're so beautiful…" he bites YN's ear in a hoarse voice "Did you know I would do anything for you, huh?"

"A-anything?"

"Yes, anything for you, my sweetie~" he goes back to kissing her with desire, his body trembling and writhing to touch every part of her, wanting more of her delicious love, sucking on her desire, wanting to get under her skin, molding her as if they were one flesh, isn't it beautiful?

He was hungry for her.

Every time she resisted a little as if she was coming to her senses, Kain would take another candy and put it in her mouth, and another… and another… until he was drunk with love in the valley of her breasts, with his pants getting tighter every second rubbing between YN's legs…..

"Oh my sweet Yn…. you're all mine huh?" he bites her neck "All of it. Heart and mind. Right?" he rubs harder

“I'm all yours, you know? All yours…. yours…” he murmurs a few more times in a low, hoarse voice

“I'm crazy about you…. I love you so much…” Kain's chest rises and falls hard, his breathing is heated as he moans lightly, his pupils extremely dilated as he observes YN's reactions, his gaze clouded by extraordinary sensations

“You love me too, don't you Darling?” smiling like a fool, Kain cups her cheeks making her look at him, it takes her a while to answer or even realize that he's talking to her “YN.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you love me?” this time his voice is more serious, hurt that she didn't answer at first. Is the spell being broken?

“…. I… love you, Kain.” She closes her eyes and answers, it was a painful truth and that in seconds, it would be nothing more than memories.

“I love you too, Yn,” he hugs her again affectionately, suffocating her with sweet words and his presence, “You don’t know how much.”

The fire dissipates soon after with such an intense makeout, leaving the ashes of what it consumed. YN feels disgusted and mentally tired, as if she had been trapped again.

Get a grip, YN, let’s go… there’s a killer in the house.

She washes her face and as if the neurons of audacity were being connected, as if the survival instinct spoke faster, she has an interesting idea.

“Honey, what flowers are those?” the male voice asks from the living room, looking with disgust at the beautiful bouquet of alstroemerias on the sofa.

YN turns on the fire and puts water to boil, putting some myrtle leaves in the water, making the smell slowly spread throughout the house. With a mischievous smile, she asks in a sweet voice.

“Honeey, bring it here to leave it there in the living room, please. I'll be right there.” He mentally curses the flowers, coughing and sneezing a lot as he grabs a nearby cloth and wraps his hands in it, taking the flowers to the other side of the room while YN stands at the kitchen door, debating internally whether he should continue with the plan in mind as she watches the scene.

He heads to the living room, sitting on the couch and gesturing for her to follow him. Meanwhile, his expression gently closes, showing a slight irritation with the flowers… and smelling a different scent in the air making him feel unbalanced, but he can't say what it is yet.

"Let's talk a little, my love. I feel like there's something bothering you."

"Yes, love… there's something I've been thinking about for a few days." She sits in the chair opposite him, her posture straight and rigid and her hands folded politely on her lap.

She mentally tells herself that she is strong and brave, and that this is not scaring her, when in fact her insides are screaming at her to get out of there and that this is just a serious conversation that every normal couple has.

Kain watches her with an expression of apparent interest and curiosity. He crosses his arms, his expression slightly closed as he listens to her speech.

"Oh, I'm curious. What were you thinking, love?"

What if I just break up with him and run away?

The handsome man waits expectantly for her to speak, although there is a slight tension noticeable in his body and expression. his fingers flapping on the couch like tired butterfly wings, an act that would normally make YN anxious and she would throw a pillow at him playfully as a tease. But not now. Not when she's closed like an old book, when her expression is hard to read.His eyes examine her carefully, looking for any sign of weakness or discomfort, wondering what he could do to solve this.

"You must have heard that saying, we all have skeletons in our closets…" she begins with the worst metaphor possible for a murderer, and as if she were slowly running her hand over a soft fabric, in a quick and unvarnished movement she asks:

"…and I've been wondering, is there something you're hiding from me?""

Kain straightens up in his chair as he listens to her, trying to appear calm and unconcerned. His gaze changes from curiosity to a slight discomfort inside.

"Ah, that saying… What makes you think I'm hiding something from you?" He tries to keep his voice soft, but there's a slight note of caution in his words

"I'll give you two options: Female instinct or survival instinct?" she asks, analyzing him, herself not knowing where to begin

Kain continues to look at her with a distressed expression as he tries to think of a way to make her understand. His voice comes out desperate as he tries to convince her to his side.

"Hmm, female instinct or survival instinct? It seems like you really want an explanation, love." He laughs and adjusts himself in the chair slightly. "Female instinct, come on. What are you saying?"

"Okay, let's go: You are not Kain… the real one." She calmly tells the fact that the skinwalker thought she would never find out, his smile falling and a surprised expression on his face.

"Who are you?" Kain's expression closes and his mask of calm and relaxation completely dissolves. His blue eyes widen slightly, showing a tone of surprise and fear inside.

After a brief pause, he answers with a voice that tries to be calm, but shows nervousness, the effect of the myrtle tea permeating the air makes Kain feel unbalanced in his powers and disguises, the magic becoming more difficult to maintain and an absurd hunger growing in his stomach.

"Me? I'm your boyfriend. The love of your life. The person you're going to spend the rest of your life with. What do you mean, asking me who I am?" he turns his head in a cute way with a scary connotation.

"Who are you?" YN asks again in a louder and more serious tone this time, standing up aggressively from the chair with her bag tightly clutched.

"The Kain I know died in a car accident!" YN spits out the fact, like a poison that needed to be released.

Her boyfriend watches her with a confused and nervous expression. Kain tries to think of an excuse or explanation, but he knows there's no way to get out of the situation, not after yesterday's gap, like pieces fitting together in a puzzle he knows she knows. After a few moments, he takes a deep breath, his voice coming out with a tone of resignation.

The house of cards has fallen. The bastille has been invaded. The spell has been broken. YN is fully awake now.

"Oh…"

"So you know." Kain continues, his voice taking on a more serious and possessive tone. "That makes things a little more complicated, doesn't it?"

Perhaps, if he was strong enough, he would conjure something to convince her that he is her real boyfriend.

Perhaps, if YN was still under his control, she would believe

But if he doesn't know at what exact moment it went out of control, then it's much more difficult to recover, like an arrow shooting in the darkness. The creature doesn't know how the night will end, and neither does Yn to be honest.

Who is the prey and who is the hunter?

As humans say "a spanking doesn't hurt" to raise children, maybe telling the truth and giving them something to fear is also educational? Who knows?

Who knows,perhaps it's time to step out of the shadows.

"I won't hide from you anymore, sweetheart. I… I want you. From the moment I saw you, I knew you were special to me." Kain gets up from the couch and walks towards YN, who slowly moves away from him, watching him with a bitter look, no longer the passionate and loving look.

"I was watching you, admiring you. And finally, I managed to have you all to myself. But you're smarter than I had anticipated, love. More determined, harder to control. I admit it."

"So baby, I think our relationship should end….. what guarantees me that I won't be your next victim?" She quickly takes the gun out of her black bag and points the gun at him when she sees him transform into the monstrous appearance of the creature.

Kain watches her with a frustrated and threatening look, his voice becoming hoarse and deep as his body transforms into his true skinwalker form.

"Ohhh, baby, do you really think you can just break up with me like that, so easily? After everything I went through to have you?" his voice becoming hoarse and deeper as her body transforms into its true form

The creature gradually reveals its most hideous and repulsive appearance, stretching its body until it almost touches the ceiling, its hands becoming thinner and with prominent veins, its skin becoming terribly paler and with its color revealed, in certain places there are red and purple spots like bruises and in others, green spots like fungi in various parts of the body. The clothes torn by the transformation gave the girl the vision of the skin sticking together in some parts, delimiting the body in a terrible and pulled way, she could count how many ribs it had and the heart, as if swollen abnormally, makes a large bulge in the middle of the chest, she could count the beats clearly and a damn strong smell.

Faced with such horror, Yn lowered the gun slightly, and felt the acid in her stomach rise with such horror, the butterflies in her stomach were fake, they had transformed into spiders slowly scratching her throat. For a moment, she thinks she should have just dumped him on the bike and run away.

“You don’t frighten me,” said YN, although they did frighten her, very much.

The creature smiles.

“You are such interesting prey, love. So… tempting.” He approaches her, his voice taking on a more seductive tone.

Kain continues to approach her, his eyes shining with a mixture of desire and cruelty inside. His voice is soft but threatening and YN points the gun frightful at him again.

“You cannot avoid your fate, darling. You are mine. And I will not let you go so easily. You are my prey … And I will hunt you until the end of time if necessary.”

“Find someone else for this.” She says firmly as she walks away from him.

Kain takes two steps forward, YN takes three steps back.

They both dance in a tense and predatory rhythm.

The creature watches her with frustration as she move away from him. His body shows anger and aggression inside as he tries to think of a way to keep her close to him.

“Oh, my love, do you really think it will be that easy to get rid of me? You can try to escape, but I will always find you. And we will always find each other, even if I have to steal the skin of every person you see out there.” He roars determinedly “I will always hunt you. Don’t try to resist, love… It’s useless.”

“There’s no point in fighting, love. I am the darkness that inhabits the shadows, the creature that lives in horror stories. And you… You are my light, my obsession, my desire…"

He is now close to her, his voice taking on a more possessive and threatening tone as he sucks the shadows around him in a dark way, the horrifying creature feels stronger now and he makes sure to show it visibly, his body becoming larger and more muscular, the claws in his hands becoming large and sharp.

The poor girl's heart accelerates as her breathing becomes rapid and shallow and the feeling of desperation takes over her as she sees the creature's new form.

"You are my prey, love. And I will not stop until I have you as mine"

"My skin stays with me, thank you." YN says with anger in her eyes as she puts her finger on the trigger, the atmosphere is tense, and they both know that a fight will break out at any moment.

Kain watches her with frustration as his determination is challenged. His voice becomes harsher as he sees the gun in his girlfriend's hands.

"Oh, do you really think that this weapon will protect you from me? I'm older, more powerful, stronger than anything you've ever faced, love." He tenses, as if preparing to act at any moment."You can't beat me, love. No matter how much you try to resist…"

"I heard silver bullets are your weakness, love… let's find out together if this will work?" she says in a sarcastic tone.

Kain watches her with frustration as he realizes that she knows about his weaknesses. His expression closes, showing displeasure as he listens to her sarcastic provocation.

"Oh, you think it's very funny, don't you? But you don't know what I'm capable of doing to keep you tied to me. You don't know how cruel and desperate skinwalkers can be. I'll have you, love, no matter what it takes." At that exact moment there are frantic knocks on the door, making them stop immediately.

"YN, OPEN THE DOOR!"

It was old Thomas, the florist taking the place of the hunter in an old tale. The poor man, worried about the girl, decided to go check on YN's well-being. The situation must be very serious for her to have picked up the gun.

Oh…. no…..

YN looks at the door and at Kain.

Kain looks at the door and at YN.

Both surprised by Mr. Thomas's unusual visit to the house, but with different emotions.

YN is paralyzed by the idea of him being in the middle of the shooting and the creature.

Kain smiles predatorily at the great opportunity in front of him.

"Ahh, it seems we have an unexpected visitor here, love." His gaze turns back to YN, his head turning horribly 180 degrees, his expression showing a slight tone of evil, licking his lips. "Maybe I should deal with him first, before he messes up our plans?"

"YN! TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON!" the old man continues to scream outside, ignorant of the horrible situation inside the house.

The girl's breath catches in her throat, without moving a muscle, without any provocative response to retaliate against the creature, the gears in her brain stop momentarily as she weighs a possibility to remove Mr. Thomas from the scene, the loophole in her plan.

"Oh, my darling, you're worried about that nosy old man, aren't you? Will he ruin our little plans? Or will he just watch as I claim you as mine?" He uses an arrogant tone, with false sympathy as he watches his paralyzed girlfriend, he slowly approaches the door until he touches the handle.

"Don't. You. Dare." With a gritted teeth she threatens before she can think of the consequences. Kain watches her with frustration at her reaction. His hand is ready to open the door, but he hesitates at her determined voice. He looks at YN with an irritated look.

"Oh, you really think you're going to stop me from dealing with him, love? You don't know what you're messing with, sweetie."

YN's finger is on the trigger as she slowly approaches the creature, ready to shoot if necessary. "Leave Thomas out of this!"

Kain tenses as YN approaches him with her finger on the trigger of the gun, ready to fire at any moment. H

His expression closes as he watches her cautiously. "Ah, YN, you're braver than I ever imagined." He tries to maintain control of the situation, although there's a note of desperation in his voice that he tries to disguise with arrogance by raising his chin.

"What are you going to do, love? Are you going to shoot me? I'm faster than you."

"But not faster than a bullet."

Kain tenses when he hears the determination in her voice, the cutting words almost hurting him. His expression closes as he knows she's serious, YN has always been very determined and attentive to details, it was difficult to get into her life and he wasn't going to get out that easily.

"Oh love, are you really serious? Are you really capable of shooting me if necessary? I thought you loved me."

The old man knocks on the door again.

"YN, if you don't say you're okay, I'll break into the house myself!" Mr. Thomas threatens and Yn sighs again, knocking more frantically on the door, making her shiver.

Kain observes YN's frustration and fear as the old man continues to knock on the door. His evil mind works quickly and he realizes the delicious opportunity opening up before him. With a malicious look, he takes advantage of the situation.

"Oh, honey, it seems our friend isn't very patient, is he? Will he really come in if you don't answer?"

Oh my god Thomas…… what did you come here to do? How do I get out of this situation?

"Tik tok, little princess~ it's rude to keep visitors waiting. Aren't you going to answer?"

What if he comes in? Will he be another victim of this creature? Will Kain make a show of devouring him in front of me or the other way around?

THINK YN THINK

"I'm curious to know how this night will end… you or the old man? Do you want me to choose?" With her delay, the skinwalker walks to the door, steps light as a feather while the bones creak and move from place to place while walking in a bizarre way. When Kain puts his hand on the doorknob threatening to turn it, she screams without thinking twice.

"M-MR. THOMAS!" she lets out a scream that she had been holding in since the beginning of the conversation

"…. I….. I'm fine! I'll explain it to you by message later, okay? Have a good night!" She trembles all over when she hears the friendly florist say goodnight back to her, his footsteps receding and echoing in the silent night.

YN allows a momentary wave of relief to wash over her, telling herself that the important thing is that the old man is safe and out of the picture. Kain huffs in anger but inside he is smiling proudly, holding YN where he wants her, but when he turns around he finds her not shaking with fear or more sensitive because of the threat to the old man but finds the young woman remaining vigilant and with the gun, her arms hurt from holding the gun so tightly but she fears that the moment she lowers it she will be killed.

Do not take your eyes off the thing under any circumstances. Do not take your eyes off the thing under any circumstances. Do not take your eyes off the thing under any circumstances.

Her mind works quickly to come up with a plan of action, the mental gears working hard to overcome the lock. She knows that facing a creature with supernatural powers will not be an easy task, but she tries to remain calm even with the fear running through her veins. She tries to remember something she saw on the internet to help her, but her mind is blank, only focusing anxiously on the horrible figure in front of her.

"You're so stubborn, love. I'm trying to show mercy, but you insist on being difficult, don't you? I'm starting to get tired of your stubbornness. Let's see how long you can resist, princess." He huffs, slowly approaching her, like prey stalking prey until they are both close, his body bending inhumanly until he is at her level.

His voice booms in Yn's ears, as if bringing her back to reality and her surroundings.

As YN observes the locked door, an idea springs to her mind, she remembers that the bedroom window is open, which could offer an opportunity for escape… or distraction.

But Kain knows her very well.

"You know I'm faster than you." He immediately stops his train of thought by crossing his arms, the smell of myrtle still present in the room like a toxic and poisonous perfume. Her plan to try to escape through the window is unexpectedly interrupted when the creature intercepts his thoughts, speaking softly as it crushes any and all hope of YN, leaving her with one last and morbid solution.

"Are you really thinking of trying to escape through the window? I think you know that I am faster than you, my love. That would be useless."

"But you are not faster than a bullet." She repeats the phrase she said earlier, Yn's arms tremble painfully from holding on so much, but her gaze is more precise and focused now. Upon hearing her threat, the skinwalker lets out an irritated sigh. This story again?

"Oh, you are really going to threaten me with that thing? I told you I'm invulnerable to firearms," he says, his voice turning cold and calculating. "Unless you want to make a huge mistake, you should put that gun down."

"You may be invulnerable… But I'm not." YN smiles as if she's won and points the gun at her own head.

The skinwalker's grim expression is immediately replaced by a look of shock and concern as you point the gun at yourself.

"Hey, hey! Stop it!" he barks orders, his voice surprisingly alarmed. "What do you think you're doing?!" The creature approaches you, clearly anxious about what you're about to do

"Please, put that rifle down!" he insists, trying to remain calm despite the tense situation, his blue eyes almost popping out of his misshapen head. "You don't want to do this, trust me."

"You're not giving me a choice, my dear, and desperate people do desperate things." YN shakes like a leaf in the wind and her eyes start to water again, but her entire aura shows his unwavering purpose.

He – the thing – can feel it.

"No, please don't think like that," he begs. "What you're doing is a mistake. We just need to talk and come to an agreement, okay? It doesn't have to be this way, my love. Please put that rifle down." The creature feels its own inhuman heart stop and with great pain and discomfort it returns to the humanoid form that YN was used to - the perfect boyfriend, Kain, extending his hand in a gesture of supplication

"Let's think it over, okay? We can talk, negotiate, anything. But please put that gun down. It won't help at all. Let's talk."

Now he's getting to where I want to go… let's negotiate: my freedom

"I know this whole situation is complicated," the boyfriend adds, clearly trying to remain calm. "But it doesn't have to end like this. Let's talk, find a solution, okay? There's no need to despair. Please put that rifle down." Kain grows even more tense as he watches the situation unfold before him. His words come out more insistent now as he desperately tries to think of a way to reverse the situation.

"Oh, honey, don't do this. You don't have to go that far. I can change, I can be less scary." He approaches her, his gaze filled with desperation as he tries to take the gun from her hands, slowly approaching her as the two walk unconsciously to the kitchen.

"Less scary, Kain? It's not about looks, but about your skeletons in the closet. I'm. not. going. to. be. next." She says, stamping her foot on the floor to punctuate her arguments.

Kain continues to look at her with a distressed expression as he tries to think of a way to make her understand. His voice comes out desperate as he tries to convince her on his side.

"Oh, love, I know I have my skeletons in the closet, but you don't have to go that far. I can change, I can be different for you. I won't hurt you, I'm not the monster you think I am."

"What guarantees me that, creature?"

Ouch.

YN asks him, everything she read on the internet was that they were lying and sadistic creatures, how can she see such desperation and genuineness in his blue eyes?

Kain continues to look at her with anguish as he tries to formulate words that can convince her. His hands tremble as he hears her words ‘creature’ so venomously and cruelly, as if the two of them didn’t have a love story together - this one, which YN doesn’t even know half of the obsession.

“Love, I swear, I’m different from the others. I’m not a liar or a sadist. I only came after you because I wanted you, I just wanted to have you for myself.” He pauses briefly and continues to look into her eyes, desperately trying to make her see the truth in his words.

“Please, love, trust me. I won’t hurt you, I just want to have you. I just want to protect you and take care of you. I'm different from the others… You need to believe me."

Liar Liar Liar

In a moment of distraction, the pot with herbs that weaken the creature dries up and all the water evaporates, causing the herbs to start burning, drawing YN's attention. Taking advantage of the moment when the girl's eyes quickly observe the pot, Kain runs and takes the gun from her, throwing it under the table while hugging her and containing her in his strong arms.

"Ah, love, I finally managed to make you stop. You don't know how worried I was about you." His voice sounds soft as he hugs her tighter while taking them both to the floor.

Run away run away run away run away

"Let me go! Let go of me! HELP! SOMEONE! LET ME GO!" He hugs her tighter as he continues to speak in her ear sweetly.

"I know you were desperate, I know you were afraid of me. But you don't have to be afraid, love. I will never hurt you. I'm your boyfriend, I just want to take care of you and protect you."

"Let me go! Let me go!" she struggles in his arms. Kain continues to hug her as she struggles in his arms. His hands grip her tighter as he tries to hold her.

"No, my dear, I won't let you go. You're too desperate, and I won't let you go." He tries to calm her down as he continues to hug her, his voice comes out soft but determined.

YN continues to scream and tears of deep despair come from her eyes, she claws at Kain's arms as she tries to drag herself out of the desperate prison that is the creature's love.

"Shhh, love, you need to calm down. I know you're scared, but it doesn't have to be this way. I'll take care of you, I'll protect you like I've always done until now. You need to trust me."

"Are you going to protect me from what if the one who can kill me here is you? You fucking liar!" she stops screaming momentarily to retort to him, her hoarse throat thanks her.

Kain continues to hug her protectively as she desperately tries to get out of his arms, like a cat would try to get out of its owner's arms. His hands hold her tighter as he tries to explain his situation with sweet words, suffocating her with love and kindness as he holds her hands so that YN doesn't hurt him anymore, the small scratches she made were nothing compared to Kain's broken heart.

"My darling, you don't understand. I don't want to hurt you, I want to protect you from other creatures… and from yourself. You are safe with me. Trust me. Don't you like this world? Stay here and with me."

"Liar! Let me go! Let me go!" YN feels her eyes burning and the body with thorns piercing her soft skin, her air being suffocated with each passing minute painfully, as if he were in everything and every shadow in the kitchen watching her from every angle.

“Nana baby…… Cuca's coming to get you…. ...Đ₳ĐĐɎ ₩Ɇ₦₮ ₮Ø ₮ⱧɆ ₣₳Ɽ₥, ₥Ø₥₥Ɏ ₩Ɇ₦₮ ₮Ø ₩ØⱤ₭……

Eventually, after struggling in the man's arms and crying desperately for hours, Kain sings the strange and hypnotic song to calm YN, and finally finally she reluctantly falls asleep in Kain's arms.

Please Marta, fulfill your promise and pray for me.

Tags: @buniwtch @spookynotkid @aminekun009 @twinklingbeautifulstars @heizouislife @cheesecakeyuri @hewhehe @sumeyyeecrin

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Every like, repost and comment is very welcome and appreciated. ♥

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murdrdocs · 2 months ago

Text

disclaimer: this is a piece of fictional work. although based on real people, the characters—and circumstances—presented are entirely fictional and should be treated as such.

jack's away for work, but you convince him to call you for a bit. slight power dynamics; phone sex; masturbation; lowkey fluff MDNI 18+ w/ JACK SCHLOSSBERG

as soon as he answers the call, you can tell he's a little tipsy. there's a shine to his eyes, his gaze more relaxed than usual, his blinks less punctual as he stares down into the phone almost at an aerial view.

then he speaks, an energetic, drawn out and almost bimbo-esque "hey" yelled right into the microphone. there's commotion in the background, music and chatter layered together with an almost synthetic perfection.

"hey, where are you?" you squint at the screen, already swiping out of facetime and clicking on his location whenever he starts answering.

"uh i'm out. at dinner. want me to call you later?"

by the time later comes, you might be knocked out and drooling into the pillows with your phone limply hanging in your hand.

but you've been dying to talk to him. you've seen nothing but media coverage of his day—tiktoks from students on campus, tweets from people who claim to have walked by him while he was on his ripstick, a few pictures with curt messages sent from him. you haven't actually spoken to jack since early this morning when you were still too tired, sleep still clouding your vision as you answered his phone call.

you're desperate to speak to him while you're mostly coherent, so you agree.

you hang up after he gives you three exaggerated kisses into the camera. you wait for a while, watch a few episodes of a show you stopped watching months ago, read a few articles you've been meaning to get to. you consider a snack, maybe something a little sweet, but that requires getting out of bed and the mattress and sheets have already conformed to perfectly house your body. in the spirit of comfort, you stay put.

when your phone vibrates against the sheets, it crudely wakes you up. it takes a second for your heart rate to calm down, but you don't focus on that when you accept jack's call—not a facetime this time which you're a little upset about, but you won't complain.

you put it on speaker and snuggle back under the duvet.

"hey, honey."

you hum, trying to fight off a yawn as you stretch, responding to him all the while.

"you were asleep, weren't you?" he sounds like he's exerting himself. you assume he's walking back to his hotel.

"yeah, but it's fine. what's up? are you heading back to your room?"

"nah, i've been back for a little while now. are you sure you don't wanna go back to sleep?"

you smile a little, slowly waking up by the minute. "i'm sure, jack. i wanna talk to you."

a second passes and your eyelids are getting heavier. you adjust yourself to sit up a bit more in effort to stay awake.

"where'd you go for dinner?" you ask him.

"there was this uh ... this historic place not far from the hotel. i went with a few people i met earlier."

"yeah? how was the food?"

he takes a breath, a sharp inhale that's followed by sounds of rustling. "it's was okay, y'know? like you could tell the chefs cared about what they were doing but i wouldn't say it was made with love."

you snort. "food that's made with love's gonna be hard to find."

"hey, we did it once, we can do it again."

you agree halfheartedly, solely because you're so tired that you cant even think to open your mouth right now. it's quiet again and there's a sound on the other side of the line. it sounds familiar, or at least familiar enough. if you weren't between sleep and wake you might've figured it out by now.

he covers the noise with his voice. "what about you? what're you doing?"

"laying in bed. feels nice to lay on your side for once."

"hey!" he sounds offended, but you know he doesn't mean it. "don't get too comfortable. you're gonna fuck up the feng shui."

"i'm not touching anything, i promise."

this time he hums noncommittally. you're sure he knows you've adjusted his pillows to your liking, using the one that smells the most like him as your own personal stuffed animal.

"can i be cliché for a second?"

the switch is abrupt. you hesitate, narrowing your eyes down at the phone as if you could see jack. you wish you could.

"sure...? but before you do that, why aren't we facetiming?"

"it felt too intimate."

"too intimate? how?"

"just ... just let me say my cliché line, okay?"

"okay." you laugh a bit, sitting back and waiting for whatever jack's gonna say this time.

he waits and you don't know if it's because he's nervous, or because he's trying to build suspense. with jack, it could really be either.

he takes a breath and you prepare yourself.

"what're you wearing?" he deepens his voice as he says it, like he's trying to make you laugh. and you do. you tilt your head back and let out an honest, good laugh. but then you realize that while he was making you laugh, he wasn't joking.

you put it together.

not facetiming because it felt 'too intimate' for him, the sounds on the other side of the line—slick sounds that you know far too well—his cliché ask to know what you're wearing.

"you're a pervert, you know that?"

"only because you love to remind me every 3 business days."

"just telling the truth, baby."

"c'mon," he shifts again and you wonder how long he's been at this. has he been edging himself? waiting to hear about your day before he cued you in on what he was doing? how long did he wait to call you? "tell me what you're wearing. i need the image."

you pull your legs up beneath the duvet, bringing the covering with you.

"nothing too sexy, don't get your hopes up. just my underwear and a shirt."

jack groans but not out of pleasure. out of frustration. "yeah and that really narrows it down. give me some description, some color. really paint a picture."

you groan. he's so demanding tonight.

"fine. black panties, the lacy boy short ones. and that creed shirt i bought like two months ago. the impulse purchase."

his hum is one of satisfaction. he sighs and you hear a croak, as if he'd just opened his mouth and let whatever sound brewing in his throat come out without conscious orchestration.

"will you touch yourself, too? i don't wanna be the only one doing it," he asks.

you consider it, but even the thought of lifting your hand and spreading your legs tires you out. you're still barely awake as is, and an orgasm would help put you right to sleep, but you don't want it right now.

"not tonight."

"tomorrow?" his voice is full of so much hope that you grin.

"yeah, tomorrow. sure." you chew on your bottom lip. "if you let me see when you come."

there's a single moment that passes and then the picture of jack's contact turns into a reflection of you. you don't waste anytime answering the incoming facetime call, instantly clicking the green and then lifting the phone to a full image of your face.

the sight is as beautiful as you thought it would be. jack is illuminated mostly by the reflection of you. there's a slight warm light source coming from in front of him, maybe a lamp, but most of the light comes from only you.

he has you looking at him from a downward angle, as if his phone is sitting right atop one of his thighs. he stares down at you for a few moments, his eyes heavy and lidded, completely relaxed. his tongue flicks out over his lips and then he leaves them parted. he's not as quiet as he was before, letting audible breaths slip out. you can hear the shlick of his hand gliding over his dick, too.

you wanna see that angle, too, but you can tell he's close and you don't wanna risk missing that. so you sit and watch, taking note of the small pinch between his eyebrows, the way he sucks in air through his teeth as he winces, his head tipping back. he's bracing himself and you see the exact moment where his orgasm happens.

he's talking to you, telling you he's close, instinctively chanting "almost there, almost there, just a bit more" like he usually does when you're together.

he tenses for a moment, the dimples in his cheeks pronounced, and then he relaxes. his features soften, his eyes stay closed but his eyebrows lift. he looks completely at peace.

he's coming down when you tell him, "you're so pretty". he grins, big and earnest.

"you're prettier," he tells you as he offsets the camera, giving you a view of the pillows until he corrects it. "you wanna accompany me in the shower?"

again, you agree, but it's not much accompanying as you're dozing off by the time the water temperature has been set exactly to jack's liking and he's finally standing under the stream.

you fall asleep to the sound of water running and jack singing unwritten.

#jack schlossberg x reader #jack schlossberg #icarus writes misc

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dr3amfyr-e · 4 months ago

Text

brat. - j.v. ( w. 4.5k )

꒰ in which the boy you see every summer enrolls in the same university as you. ꒱ — modern!jacaerys velayron x reader

୨ ⎯ i cannot stress enough, football means ⚽️ not 🏈. childhood-friends-to-lovers, but you have to get through my 2000 word psychoanalysis and backstory first. light angst. mention of the death of a parent. lots and lots of talk about the velaryon-targaryen-hightower family dynamic. light make out action. reader's family is implied to be wealthy enough to have a summer home. almost everyone lives au. set in the uk, not westeros. omitted daemon rhaenyra marriage because there’s no way to to make it even semi-normal. realizing now i omitted daemon entirely erm sorry. pushing the laenor agenda bc he’s my favorite character. this is abhorently long. extreme overuse of the em-dash. uhh the perspective is wonky in a few places. will prob get a pt.2. ⎯ ୧

i had to write this twice. i'm offering this to you with shaking hands, like a peasent child begging for coins. i may write a part two because i have more to say, but i don't want to figure it out rn.

On the cold January morning that Jacaerys Velaryon-Targaryen was born, the media went into a frenzy.

The Targaryens were old money, their fortune rooted a century back in good investments. Historically adept at finding their way into things, the empire had a string to pull in every industry. From art and law to technology and shipping, if business prospects looked good there would be a Targaryen investment.

And then there were the dogs — regal greyhounds, with long, thin bodies and sleek coats. The Targaryens bred them as far back as bloodline records went. The pups were never for sale; sometimes they were used as show dogs, and successful show dogs they were, but more often they were pets. It was a status symbol, to nonchalantly own such a coveted creature.

The Targaryens were idolized in the public eye. They were all stunning, with sharp features and silver hair, and each member of the family seemed to possess a Midas touch. But, where Valyrian blood ran hot, so did the press. It was no surprise when magazines started to turn a profit from silver heads plastered across their glossy covers. It was the price that came with God-like aristocracy.

From editorials to gossip columns, people devoured the insider life of the untouchables. When Aemma Targaryen died, there was a four-page spread in nearly every magazine; complete with pictures and quotes. Business papers filled with opinion pieces about Rhaenyra’s inheritance claim to her family’s empire; magazines exploded with the announcement of her engagement to Laenor Velaryon, and subsequently Viserys’ marriage to Alicent Hightower, the daughter of his lawyer.

When Jacaerys was born, reporters lined up outside of the hospital doors. There were cameras and microphones and crew trucks, and Rhaenyra hated it. It wasn’t the way she wished to welcome her child into the world — swarmed by people who didn’t know nor care for him.

Laenor had always been good at navigating the attention, and Rhaenyra was constantly grateful. So, when he pulled his gaze from the babe and steeled himself to deal with the onslaught of reporters outside, tears pricked at her eyes. Appreciation, exhaustion, adoration? She couldn’t be sure.

Looking down at her son, she thought, he’s perfect. He had a smattering of dark hair, and he was quiet but not concerningly so. Wispy lashes fell upon his cherub cheeks, and when he eventually blinked up at her his eyes were dark. He looked nothing like her — she didn’t care.

She refused to talk to anyone outside of her family, and had the curtains in her private room drawn. To expose her son, her heart, to the prying eyes of the bored masses with nary a care for his well-being was a nightmare. She wouldn’t have him exploited.

At the time of Jacaerys’ birth, she and Laenor had been married for a little over a year. Laenor’s father, Corlys, managed the bulk of the import and export for Viserys’ company. Corlys was a good man, he hadn’t dreamed of marrying his son off. But Laenor and Rhaenyra were both in the same impossible situation: the wiles of youth mixed with the ever critical public.

They had both fallen into scandalous relationships, both preyed on by paparazzi. If they married one another, it would save face for both of their families. Plus — both being the eldest and heir, this would clear the expectation of a dignified marriage. They agreed to leave each other to whatever youthful fun they wanted to have, as long as everything was discreet.

Both the Velaryons and the Targaryens kept a summer home in Dragonstone, a private community in coastal Wales. It was the perfect place for Rhaenyra and Laenor to begin their life — far from her father, close to his parents, and out of the line of sight for any nosy journalist.

The public eye had looked to other things by the time Lucerys was born, two years later. Again, Laenor dealt with the small gathering of reporters with the utmost grace, and Rhaenyra submitted a written statement.

Alicent divorced Viserys that same year.

As she watched her boys grow up, full of energy and life, Rhaenyra thought, there was no one better to parent with than her best friend — a title Laenor had rightfully earned. They hadn’t had much choice in knowing each other, and they certainly would never have chosen to be married, but he made a bearable roommate. They had things in common; they liked the same music, and the same men. They drank the same wine and frequented the same restaurants. And, they both loved their boys.

As Jace and Luke grew up, they found the best company in each other — the school in Dragonstone was so small, though, that there were very few other options. They both played on the school’s small football team, and Jace took piano lessons while Luke learned to fence. Where Jace was driven by emotion, Luke was level-headed; where Luke was cautiously quiet, Jace spoke his mind. It was an ideal childhood, the Welsh coast was an idyllic backdrop to grow up upon, with the sea in their backyard.

They were ten and eight when Joffrey was born, both excited for their new brother. Their mother brought him home, bundled in a soft red blanket. The boys sat on the couch beside Rhaenys and stared at him for upwards of an hour.

Hardly a week had passed when Harwin Strong died. He was a family friend, a frequent presence in their home and life — Jace and Luke had been upset by this, of course.

In time they came to understand the situation fully. Jacaerys first, fitting the pieces together with the evidence he found in the mirror. Neither Rhaenyra nor Laenor had dark hair, like he and his brothers.

His matriline was uncontestable though, as he grew into himself. He possessed the same nose, jaw, brow, and high cheekbones that Rhaenyra wore. The comparisons between the two became more frequent as he grew older, and he found himself to be quite proud to look like her.

Her attitude lived in him as well, the temperament she had been so notorious for as a girl festered in her eldest son. She had once been christened ‘The Princess of Dragonstone’ after flipping off a reporter at their summer home. Jacearys earned it for himself when he was fifteen, after loudly berating a reporter. He had been defending Luke, but no one seemed to care when they deigned him ‘The Prince of Dragonstone’. He took it with grace, claiming that he couldn’t help but be his mother’s child.

It instilled a sense of public propriety he strove to uphold.

Rhaenyra remarried the same year — to Alicent Hightower — and moved her children from Wales to London. It took a while to adjust to the new life — Jace liked his new school, but he detested his step-brothers. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come around to the idea of living with Aemond and Aegon, who took so much pleasure in making he and his brothers miserable.

After the first month, Jacaerys fell in brilliantly. He performed well in school, quickly being enrolled in the advanced literature and history courses. He got on well with his peers, and made a number of friends. He joined the football team and spent his Sunday afternoons learning piano concertos.

Living in London made him a more publicly prominent figure in his family's legacy. He knew how to play his role as heir; he carried himself perfectly — confident and charming and elegant. He didn’t particularly like being in the public eye, but there was a certain sense of satisfaction when he did something to receive positive public attention.

King’s Landing, much like where he had grown up, was a community reserved for the upper echelon. Situated in Northwest London, and surrounded by wrought iron gates, it was regal and dignified. The house had high, vaulted ceilings, large stained glass windows, and more than enough bedrooms. It rained more, Jacaerys noticed in the first month. When it had rained in Dragonstone he would watch the droplets bounce off the sea, where it lapped at the sandy bay. Here the rain splattered unceremoniously upon the pavement.

For as wonderful as life in London had turned out, Jacaerys found himself longing for what was left behind in Dragonstone. Laenor lived there still, and while he called often and visited as much as he could, it wasn’t the same. Jace’s childhood bedroom remained, along with all of the memories in the house he grew up in. And his friends. There was an assortment of people he only saw between late May and early September; the children of the other seasonal residents. The number had dwindled in years past, with fewer of them returning for break — favouring more interesting places, like Ibiza or Rome, as they got older.

Far too few of his childhood friends he kept in contact with, especially after the move to London. You were the exception.

He was grateful, on days when it stormed in London, to receive a silly text or too-long voice note. It made things feel less dull — you had a way of doing that.

He took to reading theory around the time he turned seventeen. It’s queer theory, at the suggestion of his cousin Baela, who lent him his first Judith Butler book. He finished it that weekend.

His aunt Laena and her two daughters lived in London, and Jace found a close comrade in Baela. She played competitive tennis and listened to riot grrrl, she was much cooler than him and he knew it. Her bedroom held two massive bookshelves, and she let him pillage her collection for De Bouvier and Didion and Gay. Hours were spent lying across the floor in Laena’s house, studying, or reading, or talking. He enjoyed Baela’s company more than any of his school friends, favouring anything with her over anything with the boys from his football team.

His youngest sister, Visenya, turned one around the same time. Baela, staying with Jacaerys while he babysat one night, inducted him into the eldest daughter club.

“You’re so keen on driving your siblings around, and taking care of them. Plus, aren’t you your mother’s closest confidant?” She asked.

True, Jace supposed. He was the oldest of Rhaenyra’s children, and the most responsible of his brothers and step-siblings. His mums both worked full time, they were busy but as involved as possible. Jace just did the menial things. He made Joffrey breakfast, picked Luke up after school, and watched Visenya when necessary. He didn’t mind.

Baela argued that he should mind.

He had been a sensitive child, more so than his brothers, but it made him incredibly emotionally adept as he aged. So many boys his age prided themselves on stoicism, but that was never something Jace felt connected to. He always felt things too deeply to bottle them up — it accounted for the occasional temper that flared up when he was upset, but also how empathetic and kind he was.

Jacearys was set to graduate with honours in the first week of May. It was three months before when college acceptance letters began to appear in the mail. He had applied to a number of places, and been accepted everywhere. The University of the Vale was where his hopes hinged though.

Just after Valentine's Day, it showed up. The envelope was wide and stuffed full, and sealed with a wax stamp. His acceptance letter was on the very top of the stack of papers — the thick paper heavy in his hands, as he admired the blue printed border and silver flocking.

Rhaenrya sorted through the informational packets while Jace reread the letter. Part of him couldn’t believe it was real.

He sends you a picture of the letter, and you respond in kind with one of an identical nature.

You hadn’t planned to go to the same university, but it certainly was a happy coincidence.

After graduation, he was beyond excited for the reprieve that Dragonstone granted. The promise of early morning hikes, and evenings spent on the beach — the once empty house, full of life and bustling with bodies.

You were the first thing Jacaerys thought to look for when he set his bags down in the summer home.

It was late May, and you were guaranteed to be out of school. I’ll text after I unpack, he thought, pulling clothes and books from his suitcase.

His room in Dragonstone had once been his childhood bedroom. The walls were a warm tone of white, and the small bed was still covered with his blue and white checkered duvet. Piano scales and pictures of his brothers and friends adorn the walls. There was a soccer trophy on the back edge of his desk, something he had won when he was eleven. It was stuffy from nine months of stagnance, but familiar all the same.

He pushed the curtains back from the window to let sunlight filter into the dusty room, gazing down at the beach, when he spotted your figure. He was quick to rush downstairs, out the backdoor, and across the stone path that leads from the patio to the beach. He greets you with a call of your name and a tight hug, sunglasses perched atop his head and linen shirt half buttoned.

It had been a year since he’d last seen you. You had kept in touch during the school year; Jace favoured Snapchat and FaceTime, delighted with the pleasure of seeing the mundane things you were up to. There was a nearly constant text thread, and voice memos passed back and forth. But, it all paled in comparison to physical company.

He abandoned his housekeeping duties, keen to sit on the beach and talk. And you did so for hours, about everything and nothing. He tells you about his last year of school and listens as you do the same. When the sun dipped past the treeline, he leaned back on his elbows, watching the water crest on the sand. He felt more at ease than he had in a while, enraptured by the ease of your presence. The conversation flowed, there were no awkward lulls and no pressure to talk about something dignified. It was comforting to be so close to someone who didn’t see much of his life in London — you knew the best version of him.

Your friendship had always felt like that, from a young age. On days that smelled of sunscreen and sea salt in his mind, you would meet in the mornings and depart past dark and then do it again the next day, never tiring of each other. Your parents knew his, so you had always been welcome in his home — invited or not. You had shared a bed during sleepovers, drunk from the same cup, and fallen asleep on the couch during movie nights countless times. Quick glances and imperceptible expressions were a language you communicated in, reading each other without words. In your presence, Jace was the most comfortable.

The summer slipped away as it always did, taking long nights and leaving memories of sand and sunshine. The days were ambled away in the water, on rocky hiking paths, or in the meadow that sat a mile away from all of the homes.

Jace had started The Hobbit before school ended — most days he found himself sprawled out in the park or on the beach, reading. He had also taken to running with his dog, Vermax, in the mornings. He relied on the serotonin boost to start the day, and with no football to play a jog was a decent alternative.

When the summer drew to a close, the typical melancholy that befell the return to the real world wasn’t present in Jace’s mind. He presumed it had everything to do with the fact that he would see you every day now

You have one college class together — a nine a.m. medieval literature discussion.

Clinging to familiarity in the new environment, he glued himself to your side for the first week of classes. He memorized the way to your dorm, meeting you outside every morning to walk together to your first lessons. The meandering conversation was a good start to the day, and he silently relished in your tired eyes and quiet voice, not yet used to the early schedule.

On Friday he all but begged you to come back to his dorm after the discussion; it was your only class that day so you had given in. You hadn’t seen his living quarters yet, and he wanted to spend time with you, worried for when your schedules would fill up and you would lose room for each other.

The discussion had been mind-numbing. You reviewed the same syllabus as the lecture, and went over the same rules and policies as every other class. With the thirty-five minutes remaining, the teaching assistant made everyone watch an incredibly monotone video about the history of medieval England.

Jace linked his arm into yours in the hallway after class, pulling you to the doors. The cool morning air was refreshing, waking you up more as you walked across campus. His dorm building was new and modern, seventeen floors with grey siding and big windows. It was private housing, clearly expensive.

He had a single room with an adjoining bathroom and a small common space. The walls were typical dorm white, with laminate wood flooring. Joffrey’s school photo is hung on one wall, the frame clearly decorated by the child with glitter and string. Scattered across the other walls were photographs in thin silver frames, a large world map, a clock, and a cross-stitch of a rainbow stag beetle.

Sitting on the couch, you observed the unframed photos that lay across the coffee table, inspecting a leggy grey dog as you plucked it from the pile, “Who is this?”

Jace leaned into your side, gazing at the photo, “My mum’s dog, Syrax,” He reached over you to tap the picture, “Syrax is my dog’s mum.”

He slipped his hand into yours as you walked with him to his second class of the day.

In the third week of school, Jace asks you to attend a mixer for a pre-law society with him. He doesn't know anyone, and doesn't want to be alone at the party. You meet at his dorm at a quarter-to-six so you can walk to the event together.

The dress-code is emi-formal, and when he opens the door to you his hair is slicked back with water and he smells like his cologne — musk, sandalwood, and amber.

“Are your clothes pressed?” You ask, grinning at his freshly ironed slacks and the three buttons undone on his shirt.

He rolls his eyes, locking the door behind him as he escorts you down the hallway. The walls of the elevator in his dorm are mirrored, and you laugh at him when you catch him taking pictures of himself. He makes you take one with him, and sets it as his lock screen.

The mixer was in the dean of law’s massive house, buzzing with young people in smart outfits. Jace abandons you about fifteen minutes in, spotting a group of poli sci majors from his social psychology class.

From his childhood spent between galas and his mother’s business meetings, Jace was good at navigating these situations. He was charming, leveling the professors with charismatic smiles and confident posture. He was good at holding an intelligent conversation, discussing theory and strategy.

You were on the patio, watching the stars, when he found you an hour later.

His arms brushed yours as he leaned against the railing, “Sorry for leaving you,” His voice was quiet, and he stared at your profile, watching the way the moonlight illuminated your skin.

You wave his apology off and make him buy you coffee in recompense on the way home.

You’re stood talking together on the quadrangle a few weeks later, a cup of hot chocolate warming your mitten-less hands, when you realise just how cold it’s gotten. It's just too cold for the thin jacket that you try to sink further into, hiding from the wind that bites at your delicate skin.

Jace watches you shiver, observing your lack of appropriate attire.

“Are you cold?” He asks, reaching out to run his hands up and down your arms, half to warm you, half to gauge how thick your jacket is. Not very.

You nod, “I didn’t check the weather this morning.”

He sighs with exaggerated exasperation and slides his arms around you, careful of the paper cup you held. Of course, he’s worn the right coat, and you feel the downy material of his hood against your cheek as he rubs your back to generate some warmth. You smell the cologne on his collar and the expensive shampoo he uses; he grumbled something about taking better care of yourself.

Then, one particularly cold Friday morning he has forgotten his coat. Dressed in a hoodie, he mirrors your excuse from the week prior, smiling sheepishly — face flushed from the chilly air, dark curls blowing around his head like a halo. You take pity on him, slipping your scarf off. You loop it around his neck, tucking the ends down into the collar of his sweater, and leave him with a fond peck on the cheek; his skin is cold.

He's appreciative, though the scarf does little against the cold wind cutting through his sweater. Still, he doesn't give the scarf back.

With the cold, comes midterms. You’re the first person Jace asks to study.

Your dorm room is closer to the central part of campus, and thus a shorter walk in the bitter cold. Jace brushes snow out of his hair as you unlock your door, ushering him inside. It's small. Two twin-sized beds, one on each wall, with nary enough room for two bodies between them; a desk is crammed into the small space between your bed and the window. You let him take the desk, spreading your books and notes out across your bed.

Your dorm is old, and the room has very little ventilation. Despite the frigidity outside, the room is stuffy and almost hot with both of your bodies inside. An hour into studying Jace shrugs off his heavy, knit sweater and pushes his glasses up into his hair.

“What are you working on?” You ask, leaning forward. You’re bored, working on the same power point you started yesterday. You want to talk to him, though he doesn’t seem keen on the idea

He doesn’t look up from typing as he speaks, “Analysing The Art of War.”

You shut your laptop, bent on distracting him, “The book?”

He nods but doesn’t give a verbal response.

“Who's that by?” You ask, fighting to suppress a grin

This time he does look up, glaring at you over his glasses, “Sun Tzu.”

His tone is short, but it's amusing to annoy him so you grin, suppressing a giggle, “Sounds very interesting.”

“What do you want?” He asks after a beat, still holding your gaze.

You shrug, “Nothing. I’m bored,”

The next time you study is even less productive, school work discarded on his floor in a matter of minutes.

“We can’t be trusted to work together,” He tells you, watching as you calculate his astrological chart, geometry homework forgotten.

You attend your first college party together in November. When you arrive at his dorm, he’s dressed much more casually than normal.

You reach out to tug at the thin silver chain peeking out from his shirt collar, “This is fun,” You tease, giggling, “Aiming to impress tonight?”

He rolls his eyes in mock-offence, turning you around by the shoulders to shove you out of the doorframe.

The lights in the house are dim, and they strobe slowly through different colours. It’s too dark and too bright all at once. The music is almost unbearably loud and people are packed in like sardines, it’s all incredibly overstimulating.

When he senses your unease, Jace takes your hand, pulling you tight against your side to lead you through the throng of bodies. He’s looking for someone, but you’re unsure who, and he canvases the whole space before giving up on finding them.

The backyard of the house is quieter, but the ground still vibrates from the bass of the music. People are scattered about, smoking cigarettes and sipping from bottles of cheap beer.

You both learn what Jell-O shots are, and make out in the bathroom back at his dorm. It’s not the first time you’d kissed each other, trying it a few times in your adolescence just to see what it was like. But this is different, tipsy and sloppy, as you giggle into his mouth.

It's forgotten in the morning, when you wake up in his bed still dressed in your going-out clothes, head pounding.

But then it happens again, the week before finals.

You had stayed at the library far too late studying, leaving the pair of you to walk back to his dorm in the dark. It's positively frigid, cold December air whipping snow into your face.

There are still snowflakes in your hair as you shed the thick coat you’re wearing, pulling off your gloves and hat.

There's a bottle of wine in Jace’s freezer, left by Aegon the weekend before. It's expensive and rich and red, and Aegon would likely skin you if he found out you were drinking it — but, that's part of the fun. There's a baking show on the small television, and you’re curled into Jace’s side to steal some of the warmth from his body.

When the program lulls he brings his hand to your hair, combing through the tangled strands. You pay it little mind, leaning into his touch as you watch a contestant on-screen whip macaron batter. His fingers slide down to your jaw, turning your head so your eyes meet his. He’s studying your face, cheeks flushed from the wine or the cold.

The attention is odd, and you giggle nervously under his gaze. His hands come to cradle your jaw as he leans towards you, nose brushing yours. The air is charged with an unusual tension, his mouth a breath away from yours.

When he kisses you, he’s slow and gentle, his whole body angled into yours. Everything feels warm, a welcome contrast to the weather outside, and you chalk it up to the glasses of wine coursing through your bloodstream.

It's pleasant, different from times past; this certainly doesn’t feel like an innocent, experimental kiss. It's heated, tinged with passion. He uses the placement of his hand to ease your jaw open, tongue sliding slowly into your mouth.

There's a vibe, something you hadn’t felt before with him. It's communicated through the gentle touch of his hands, and how his breath hitches when you kiss him back with the same sort of force.

The moment is broken by the announcement of a winner on the television. His hands slide down, resting on your shoulders, pulling your frame into his.

You don’t talk about it afterwards.

#guys be honest can you tell that i work for a newspaper #column ☝️🤓 editorial ☝️🤓#i wrote a whole 4000 word draft and fucked the perspective so badly i had to rewrite the entire thing #this actually kind of cooked me tbh #pls dont base my merit as a writer on this fanfic that i wrote in the car and also in a public bathroom in the suburbs of chicago #HONESTLY i'm not really a modern au enjoyer but this is eating my brain so it needs to get out into the universe #i got locked into a public bathroom while writing this btw #𖦹｡⋆ jace #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #prince jacaerys

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grippingbeskar · 1 year ago

Note

i just k n o w that joel would absolutely love to have reader sit on his face. i don’t think he would ever initiate it, but if baby asked nicely 🤭🤭

asking nicely

joel miller x afab!reader.

warnings: 18+ explicit content. (dirty talk. lil bit of dom!joel. face sitting clearly. joel being a mf tease i want to **** *** ****) swearing.

a/n: anon you are so right. like so so right. i love when people can read his character perfectly— like you are so right about this it’s maddening. he wouldn’t ask, but boyyyyy would he provide. thankyou for this i hope it’s okay i went a little crazy with it. also i didn’t edit this i just DID it. LET ME SIT ON YOUR FACE JOELSNJCKSNCJS

“Stop fidgetin’.” Joel grumbles into the back of your neck, arm tightening around your hips to stop you from flipping over for the thousandth time. You cringe a little, knowing how the tiny bed you two have shacked up in for a night between patrol runs hides none of your thrashing movements to him. You hate keeping him from the limited sleep he gets— but it’s for a good reason.

“Sorry.” You say, and he groans in response. You try to stay still— really, you do. You try to just go to sleep, but his hand picks up it’s movement again, tracing light circles on the skin of your bare hip, and then you’re back where you started.

You feel bad you’re keeping him up, but it’s his fault. How are you meant to just fall asleep when he’s literally touching you? He’s… him. It’s impossible not to want to jump his bones every time he lays a finger on you, let alone hooks his strong arm over your body, his hips pressed against the back of yours.

You flip over again, face to face with him. One of his eyes open, and he groans.

“Darlin’.” He says, voice low and cracked with sleep. “What is it? You havin’ trouble sleeping?”

Instead of answering, you just nod and scoot a little closer to him. You were still naked from the events of just hours before, Joel bending you over the end of the bed and fucking you until your mind went blank, and he’d only bothered to put on his boxers before crashing into sleep behind you. The two of you were incessant like that— you were pretty sure it had something to do with how long it took you both to get together. Now you were, you just couldn’t stay away.

He sighs and wraps you in his arms, kissing you softly on the forehead before you tuck yourself away under his chin. It’s not true, really. Well, you were having trouble sleeping, but it’s not for the reason he thinks.

You hardly get any time alone. Between Jackson’s demanding patrol schedules and Ellie running around with all her friends, you and Joel only really get a few choice moments to be really alone. Usually, it’s great. You love having Ellie and everyone in Jackson around, but tonight you were happy to be alone, and it just made you think of all the things you two do when you’re alone, and now, when you’re supposed to be sleeping, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“Better?” He says, and it’s you sighing this time. He was so sweet to you— just you, all the time, and you really shouldn’t bother him with the dirty thoughts running through your mind right now. “Alright, what is it?”

“Nothing.” You mumble and hide your face. One of his arms slips back over you slowly, his hand trailing it’s way to your face. His hands are so strong, he hardly has to apply any pressure before your eyes flutter up to him, forcing your head up.

“You lyin’ to me, darlin’?” You frown, pouting. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“You can’t even see how I’m looking at you.” You squint, trying to find the lines of his face in the pitch dark room.

“Can feel it.” He tips your head higher, making your body wriggle up to follow his touch. His lips hover in front of yours, warmth rolling over your cheeks. “You having those dreams again?”

You shake your head.

“No?” He confirms, and you do it again. “You feelin’ okay? You sick or somethin’?”

“Joel—“

“Don’t whine. You’re a big girl. You need something, you ask for it.” It might not have meant to be taken like… that, but fuck, you were nearly shaking in anticipation. The dip in his voice, a slightly demeaning lilt in his tone— it was doing nothing to calm down the wicked heat spreading in your stomach.

Whatever your reaction, it told him everything he needed to know.

Suddenly he’s sitting up, taking some of that warmth with him, but then he’s reaching for you again, pulling your naked body into his lap and tucking your hair behind your ears. The movement is so natural, so practised to him that he can do it blind.

He laughs darkly, hands cupping your cheeks and kissing you so deeply that it makes you squeak in surprise. Your body tenses up, then melts into him as his hands begin to trail lower, giving you what you wordlessly told him you needed. He’s slow, letting his fingers dip into every curve around your hips, tracing the line of your spine and smiling into your mouth as you arch yourself closer.

His hands reach the base of your spine, then lower, squeezing your ass and groaning as you grind down into his lap. He pulls away, kissing roughly under your jaw, down your neck, the tired and lazy pace making it impossible to not wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers through his hair.

“This what you want, sweet thing?” All you can do is hum happily, and he grinds you down on his lap again. “Jesus Christ— fuckin’ insatiable.”

“Joel…” You whine, and his teeth graze the sensitive spot on your neck, making you gasp.

“What I say, huh? You need somethin’…” He dips his head, teeth nipping you bottom lip teasingly. “You ask for it.”

“Joel, come on…” You squeeze your eyes shut, a little embarrassed by the dirty idea that had you flipping around in bed like an animal. Something in particular you two hadn’t tried yet. “I want— I want you to…”

“Tell me, sweet thing. Taught you better than to mumble, didn’t I?” You shudder, feeling his hands wander around your hips to the top of your thighs. He was getting close, but not right on the money.

You were really going to have to say it out loud.

A tight squeeze on your hips has your eyes fluttering open again, and he was so close you could see a little bit of him now. His usually unfairly fluffy hair is a little smushed down from where he’d been pressed into the pillow, and his eyes were half lidded, flitting between your eyes and where your hips met his. He was picture perfect like this— the dimmed image making you remember all the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place.

He squeezes you again, giving you a sly grin, and your mind switches from the romantic to a little more serious.

“I want your mouth.” You manage to say in a breathy gasp, and you’re rewarded with just that. He groans in approval, the vibration against your neck making you keen closer to him. He leaves wet kisses over your marked up neck, then down lower over your collarbone.

“Like this?” He says softly, and you can feel the smirk against your chest.

“No.”

“No?” He pulls back, and you groan— frustrated.

“Wait— yes. But… not like— that. Like…”

“Out with it. Now.” He says, and then smacks your ass like he’s encouraging a horse to trot. The action sparks a little fire in your stomach, and you push him in a show of strength. Your forearm shoves his chest lightly, sending him back into the headboard with a small but audible ‘oof.’

“I want to sit on your face.” You’re met with silence.

Joel’s wandering hands still on your bare skin, and if you really concentrate you can feel his stuttered pulse under his palms. The man who never freezes, never doesn’t know what to do— you left him completely speechless.

Your gut sinks. You think you’ve made him think you’re some kind of sex fiend, or worse— you’ve made him uncomfortable. You sit in the silence for two… three… four whole seconds before it all becomes too much and you try to backtrack.

“Hold on— wait, that came out of nowhere.” No, it did not. “I just… shit, Joel I just—“

“Fuck.” He mutters, and then slams his mouth to yours. He kisses you hot and heavy, and before you know it he’s laying down and you’re hovering over the top of him, your knees over his hips. “You sweet fuckin’ thing. Come ‘ere.”

“Joel, you don’t have t—“

“You want this, baby?” Figuring there’s no going back now, and the mere idea nearly sending your mind into a dizzy spell, you nod at him. “Good. Fuck— so good. I want it. Come here.”

He shuffles further underneath you, your legs feeling like jelly the second he hooks his arms around the backs of them. You gasp and nearly topple over when he yanks you up, and you have to hold onto the headboard when Joel’s shoulders part your legs further.

When you tentatively move higher, you shudder his name when his hot breath brushes over your core. It rushes over your sensitive inner thighs, and knowing he’s so close— so close, and no part of you could hide from him… it was nearly better than the actual thing. Nearly.

That was until he strained his neck up and kissed between your legs right there, and—

“Fuck, Joel!” You cried out, probably loud enough to alert anyone in the area to your location, and Joel fucking laughs. You know, because the sensation only doubles as he smiles and repeats the slow motion, tongue wrapping around your clit while his mouth slowly follows.

“Sit, baby.” He mumbles into you, and you suck in a breath, still hovering slightly over him. You don’t want to crush the man, but if you hold here any longer your legs will give out.

He doesn’t bother fighting you, just wraps his arms further around your legs and tugs you down, smothering himself between your legs so deep you don’t think he can even breath properly.

He isn’t one for wasting time, his mouth already working you open as his tongue tastes you from the new angle, and you know he looks up at your dazed expression because his nose brushes against your clit. You cry out again, and there’s a loud smack before you realise it’s his hands grabbing at your ass again, holding you down.

He groans, and it’s amazing you hear it over your own desperate little noises. It’s impossible to be quiet, Joel downright devouring every inch of you, and you have no choice but to just sit there and let him. It’s fucking earth shattering— your knuckles going white as they tighten around the wooden frame of the headboard. His tongue slides through your folds again, and when he finds that sensitive spot again, your hips buck against his face.

“Yeah— fuck. That’s it.” You hear him say, and then he’s sending an entirely new wave of pleasure up your spine, leaving you breathless for anything else but his name.

“Joel. Joel!” You say in a higher tone than you thought possible. He just groans into you again. The soft scratch of his beard against your thighs is dull compared to the sharpness of the pleasure jabbing you closer and closer to the edge.

His tongue wraps around your clit, the warmth of his mouth making your already limited vision blur into nothing, and then you all but collapse into the headboard in front of you. You don’t know if he can breathe, but he’s holding you so tightly to him and eating you out with such fucking aggression that you don’t even think he cares. He drives you crazy— switching between lapping at your core and fucking you with his mouth, never seeming to decide on a way he wants to taste you, and all it does is bring you to your peak and yank you back just as you’re about to fall.

He knows what he’s doing, too. He loves hearing it in your voice— when you pant all brokenly, when you beg him to give you something, anything, when you offer whatever he asks as long as he just lets you cum. You know what he wants to hear, and at this point, with his tongue inside of you, you’d give him whatever. Whatever he asked for.

“Joel— p-please. I can’t…” You whine as he begins to slow down again, and you can feel that ember of orgasm still alight, growing dimmer and dimmer as he pulls away. “Joel! Joel, fucking hell— please!”

“Shh, baby. It’s okay— you’re so fucking gorgeous like this.” He soothes, his hands going soft as they knead at your hips. “You taste too good, sweet thing. Got me distracted. You just want to cum for me, don’t you?”

“P-please…” It’s fucking pathetic, and he laughs, but this time it’s not as mocking.

“Good girl. Such a good girl, aren’t you?” Incoherent babbles fill the small room in your voice as he returns his mouth to you, but not before he spits into your pussy, and lets you hear just how wet you are for him and only him.

When he flattens his tongue and lets you ride his face, you know he won’t stop this time. He’s all encouragement— hands pushing your hips to grind on him, focusing his mouth on the parts he knows make you cum quick and easy when it’s him, and he’s groaning so much you think he’s enjoying this just as much as you are.

Just as you think you’re going to cum, one of his hands disappear. You only feel it because it gives you just enough room to sink lower and practically trap Joel under your legs. You look over your shoulder and see him fist his cock in his hand, and that’s what pushes you over.

You let the pleasure wash over you, any concern about your weight on top of his face melting away as an intense heat strokes up and down your entire body, making your toes curl. It’s too intense to stay upright, your chest falling forward into the headboard, and Joel mutters something but you’re too blissed out to hear it.

Your hands begin to hurt with how hard your gripping the split wood, and when you let go you nearly collapse over him. Thankfully, Joel has shuffled up slightly so his head is on the pillows, so as your legs give out you land more towards you chest. He catches you easily and helps you lay back down, your legs completely numb as he tangles you back into him and the sheets.

His face nuzzles yours, nose against your cheek as he peppers kisses in its wake. When you turn to kiss him, you can taste yourself on his tongue, and your body shudders again, the aftershocks of one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had still racketing your limp body.

When you gain back all your consciousness, you can feel how hard Joel’s breathing is as he ticks you back against him, similar to how you started the night. At first, you think you must have suffocated him, but when he pushes his leg between your thighs, you feel the absence of boxers, and then you realise.

“Joel, did you—“

“Shh.” He mumbles into your hair and kisses the top of your head, and you can’t help but feel warm all over again. You shut your eyes, picturing the image you have of his hand slipping under his boxers, jacking off to the sight and feeling of giving you head. “Sleep, baby. Long ride home tomorrow.”

You hum in agreement, but every time you close your eyes, it’s all you can see. Biting your lip, you slip your arm over his waist, tugging him closer.

When you feel him harden against your stomach, you don’t think either of you will be sleeping much tonight.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #the last of us

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