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simpjaes · 1 year ago

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FIRST DATE ETIQUETTE (p.sh)

Park Sunghoon is not dull, nor is he the clean cut neighbor your mother thinks he is. Oh, the horrors of if she found out that the man she set you up on this date with immediately took you home and rendered you unable to walk...he'd never be able to defend himself without a swift slap to the head.

៸៸៸ minors do not interact!

៸៸៸ PARING: park sunghoon x afab reader

៸៸៸WC: 9.3k

៸៸៸ TAGS: mentions of food (meat), strangers to fucking immediately to the possibility of dating later, brat taming, mocking and making fun of each other, sneaky sex, flirting and bullying in the same instance, cocky sunghoon, um…they’re kind of competitive in bed

៸៸៸ A/N: what’s that? you’ve read this before? that’s bc i wrote it! I’ve revised the original now to fit sunghoon because I am insatiable in my lust for him. (original title: the bore next door)

smut tags under cut::

SMUT TAGS: dom sunghoon, bratty/sub reader, huge cock agenda (again), he gets the best head he’s ever had, he calls you messy a lot (he likes it messy), face fucking, pussy eating, nipple biting, finger fucking, squirting, dirty talk, wow i can’t believe I actually wrote a condom being used this time!!!!, sunghoon tries to make you moan because his horny brain wants your parents to know, dirty talk, praise, hair pulling.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

23rd street. The restaurant is on 23rd street, and you can honestly say you’ve managed to hit every street but this one. From 13th to 35th, does the street in question even truly exist? Were you set up by your parents?

In short, you have been single since high school. Maybe a few flings here or there throughout college but you never truly settled on one man or woman in a relationship. You’re almost shocked that your parents are pushing so hard for you to find love. They want you to somehow feel the love from the movies, something like they had felt when they met. In this century, unfortunately, love isn’t quite as predictable.

You can’t just pick a person who has a good job and a decent face and assume love will settle in someday.

Not only is it not predictable but it isn’t a priority in your life. You have no interest in meeting the standard a man could hold for you, nor a woman, or family member. You’re here to exist in your own way, work your way up through the corporate food chain, and live in a home with over thirteen cats before dying a peaceful death in your late eighties. Why do you need a man to do any of this? Why do you need to settle for one cock, one set of hands, and one personality?

Right, because mom wants you to at least try to experience what love is. Surely, it’s just because she desperately wants a grandchild from her one and only daughter. Sorry to disappoint, but that will not happen any time soon. Children were never a thought in your mind, nor was marriage, a honeymoon, or a burial plot next to another person. Your mother knows this, but the least you can do is show some effort to please her, right? To prove that relationships just aren’t your thing, and you’d much rather have the funds to live a comfortable life all on your own.

23rd street is the small thumb tack on a map where there is a restaurant that holds a very, very, annoying arrangement.

Your mother had really sold the idea to you. She says the nice neighbor boy next to her seems to be around your age, he brings her the mail sometimes. He seems to have a job, his own car, his own home that sits in a plot next to theirs. His lawn stays mowed, the siding on his house stays clean, and apparently he seems quite lonely considering your mother appears to have watched him enough to know he doesn’t bring any girls home.

At least that she’s aware of.

She doesn’t mention what he looks like and of course, when you’d asked because, in all honesty, that’s the most important thing to you if you’re going to get anything out of this, she simply states that he dresses well, is handsome, and has dark hair.

For all you know, she just set you up on a date with Antonio Banderas.

What you weren’t expecting though, is to find this restaurant almost an hour late and walk in to find an already half-eaten meal in front of a man who looked at you as if you were any stranger on the street.

A stranger you were, and so was he, but honestly, he is attractive. That alone made you feel a bit guilty for not having found this place sooner. The idea that the man in front of you did not wait for you shows that he also has priorities that aren’t you. This is probably a huge inconvenience for him too, if anything.

Imagine your nice neighbor lady telling you to go to a restaurant to meet her daughter? God. The first words out of your mouth are an apology. Not for being late, and not for not even wanting to be here, but for your mother for even trying.

“Sorry about my mom,” you mutter, plopping down into the booth with a sigh. You eye over his food, already knowing that the check will likely be split. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Why the rush?” The man immediately says, pushing an untouched glass of water your way. “I don’t mind that you were late, I was just really hungry.”

You hum at him, waiting for the waitress to come over so you can place the most obnoxious order in the world because you’re really not in the mood to even look at the menu or the prices. Chicken strips and fries, obviously.

“So, what did you order?” You state, eyeing his plate.

“Steak?” He says it like a question, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world and it definitely is. Clearly there is a half-eaten steak that probably costs over twenty dollars on his plate. Still, you were just trying to make small talk.

The man says nothing after this, offering nothing but an awkward atmosphere. It doesn’t take long at all for you to stop caring about the entire arrangement, as if you cared in the first place.

“Look—” You try to offer, and the handsome man in front of you doesn’t even quirk a brow as he sips his own drink. “I don’t even remember your name, and I know my mom is trying to set us up but—”

“You’re not interested, and you have better places to be?” The man finishes for you as he sits his drink down with a gulp that makes much less sound than your own. “That’s fair. My name is Sunghoon, by the way.”

You nod at him, already deciding that you’ll get chicken strips somewhere else on your own so that you can eat them in the comfort of your own home, alone, without a stupidly handsome man in front of you that has, probably, less interest than you do.

“Well, I’m interested, and I don’t have anywhere better to be,” Sunghoon says, shooting his eyes up at you. “And to be quite honest with you, your mother was right. You are pretty.”

Taken aback, you’re somehow comforted by his forwardness towards you. He acts just as uninterested as you do but counters that demeanor with his words. You can’t imagine that this is how the man picks up women, there’s honestly no way he would win that way. No wonder he is single. Then again, you kind of do the same thing. You see an attractive person and you act much the same as Sunghoon right now. Uninterested in anything long-term but clearly interested in something.

“I’m pretty, huh?” You laugh, sipping the water and internally giving this man an extra three minutes to fully sell the idea of this date to you. “Imagine my surprise to walk in and find that I was set up on a date with someone that is actually attractive.”

“Oh?” Sunghoon quirks a brow. “Is this how you return a compliment?”

You shrug.

“Is this how a date normally goes for you—you know, where you’ve already eaten your food and would probably rather pay and leave before she even gets a chance to order?”

“No,” he responds pointedly. “Would you rather me throw a tantrum that you were late?”

“You’d be a lot less dull if you did.” You throw back, eyeing a waitress as she heads over.

Sunghoon watches as you place your order and watches a bit harder at the way you smirk at yourself through nearly everything you say. You must think you’re clever, you must think he’s willing to chase you or something.

“I’m dull?” He questions, staring you down with narrowed eyes when the waitress walks away. “You just ordered chicken strips at one of the most expensive restaurants in town.”

You’re taken aback a bit, shaking off his little insults and sitting straight up. Interesting date, truly.

“Okay then, Sunghoon—” You say his name as if it’s a joke or something, but you don’t really let him react to it. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a systems software developer,” he deadpans, swirling his very nonalcoholic water in his hand. “Not that you’d know what that is or anything. And you?”

In all honesty, you don’t really know what that means, but it isn’t hard to figure it out. Assuming he must make programs or something, assuming he probably flew through college in order to do it in the way he seems proud of what he does. In all honesty, it still sounds like such a bore. He must talk in code or something in his free time.

“I’m—uh—I’m a teacher.” You try to laugh, realizing that you’re kind of putting him down when he very clearly must make more money than you do.

Only now does it set in that your mother stated he has his own home. One that sits directly beside theirs in a neighborhood that you grew up in. One that you tried to find your own home in but ended up in a shitty apartment in the city because it is all you could afford. Sunghoon must make good money.

“Oh yeah? What do you teach?” He perks up in interest, no longer acting as if he is trying to insult you and instead offering conversation to you with such ease that you almost forget you’re supposed to be getting through the date in discomfort.

“I teach everything, I guess. It’s just first grade. I swear, I teach them how to pull up their pants properly more than how to spell words.” You smile to yourself thinking of the loud and obnoxious children you teach five days a week.

Your job is why you don’t want children though. Your job is why you’d rather stay single. All you hear about is how the third-grade english teacher is fucking the fifth-grade science teacher even though he has a wife who is pregnant with their second child. Sometimes you hear gossip about the students themselves. Who in their right mind as an adult would gossip about elementary school kids? It’s no wonder you’re not a favored teacher. You’re sure they’ve said something about you for not having a significant other or a child on the way too.

Sunghoon smiles through your endearment towards your class, eyes perking up at the plate of chicken strips on their way to you. He doesn’t say much when you thank the waitress and doesn’t really pay attention to the way you devour the first strip in nearly one bite.

“Seems like a lively job. I just sit around all day staring at a computer screen…” He begins to drone on about his own job, sounding more like background noise in your head if you’re being honest. You can barely hear him over the crunching of your chicken and you’re a bit thankful for that.

“And I think that it was really worth the—” You interrupt his long string of sentences with a call of his name. “Sunghoon, do you have any other interests?” You ask, sipping your water.

He deadpans at your rudeness of interrupting him. Sunghoon doesn’t often go out on dates, nor does he often get asked about these types of things so, he goes quiet, flicking his eyes down to his hands and then back up to you.

“I like to go hiking, I guess? Watching movies? Sometimes I like to cook—”

Ah. He’s one of those guys.

“Those are like, the most common interests a person can have. You don’t have any special hobbies or weird quirky things you like to do?” You question, trying to see something in him past the fact that he’s nice to look at and has a decent paycheck.

“I don’t really have the time to put into other things. When I’m not working, I’m busy cleaning my house or doing yard work since I’m usually too tired during the week to do it.”

“God, you are such a bore.”

Sunghoon realizes now that maybe you’re not just throwing around banter. Sure, neither of you really wanted to come on this date but he could have used the time away from a computer screen to look at his neighbor’s daughter. If anything, it was an interesting offer, and those don’t come by him too often. He had seen photos of you. He knew you were pretty, and he also should have known you were a bit stubborn with the way your mother warned him before the date.

“If I was so boring, would I be sitting here on a date with a woman I don’t know?” He glares over at you.

“I don’t know, probably. It isn’t the riskiest thing in the world. What? You don’t have tinder?”

Sunghoon looks down again, because no, he doesn’t have fucking tinder and he doesn’t understand why that matters. “Why does that matter?”

“Ah, so we are similar.” You smile to yourself in a small win, and you’re not even sure if it’s even an argument at this point. “No time for hobbies, so no time for dating either?”

He nods slowly at you, completely confused by the way you go from picking his personality apart to finding some way to connect with him.

“We can wrap this up then if you want?” You offer, still picking at the food on your plate. “I can pay for mine, so I release you from this arrangement.”

He just sits there staring at you. What a peculiar woman. Do you really assume he isn’t somehow finding the fun in all of this? In all honesty, this date is going off without a hitch compared to many other dates he’s been on. He has never been on a date where he is criticized, nor has he ever criticized a date himself before.

It’s almost kind of nice, like a breath of fresh air being able to meet someone who isn’t trying to show their best aspects. Someone who is sitting in front of him being as real as they possibly can be. Sure, you’re attractive, but your lack of interest in this date is somehow—flooring.

“What if I want to stay?” He makes eye contact with you. “What if I want to pay for your overcooked chicken?”

“I’d be letting you win if you pay for me, but you’re free to stay.” You wave him off with your hand, realizing that the chicken is very dry and wasn’t hitting the spot like you’d been pretending. “So, what now then?” You add with a tilt of the head.

“Admitting I’m interested in you?” He says it with so much confidence that you’re a little bit surprised, because this entire time you’ve been trying to act as uninterested as possible, despite finding some amount of attraction to Sunghoon.

“Poor you,” You coo, pushing your plate away from you and pulling your almost-empty water closer. “Okay, let’s try and make this worth something then.”

Sunghoon prepares himself to listen, but honestly, he couldn’t have prepared for what you’re about to say to him.

“Neither of us are looking for anything serious right?” You ask, continuing after he nods. “So,” you pause briefly, thinking a bit too hard on how to word it. “Why don’t we just treat it like a tinder date?”

You’re definitely implying that the night could continue together, only to never speak of or see each other again after the sun rises.

“Are you suggesting I bring you home with me?” He looks at you with a face you can’t really read.

“Isn’t that what people do when they’re on a date, find each other attractive, but want nothing more?” You reiterate for him, because he seems to have trouble processing what you’re trying to get across to him. “Unless this isn’t your thing?”

Sunghoon pulls his hand up and pushes his hair out of his face for a moment. He’s thinking about it, barely even realizing that you’ve known each other for less than an hour.

“I didn’t take you for the type of fuck on the first date.” He cocks his head, looking at you in a lazy way.

It feels a little painful that the first curse word he says out loud is describing something that involves you and your offer.

“I’m not, usually, but it has been a while for me and I can’t help but think we could have fun with it.”

He nods, eyeing you down. “Do you want to drive to my house then? Or do I need to bring you back to get your car?”

“Nah, I can drive. I know where you live, considering I grew up next door and all. I can just crash at my parent’s house once we are done.”

Sunghoon kind of shifts his eyes nervously, looking down at the table and then back at you with a lick against his bottom lip. “Speaking of, your parents—” He pauses, fiddling with his hands. “Look, they probably wouldn’t expect me to be the type to uh, get intimate with their daughter on the first date.”

“Only date,” you correct him, amused. “What, you thought we would meet again after this?”

Sunghoon waves you off dismissively. “That’s not the point. I don’t want my neighbors thinking I’m some fuckboy, and I’d rather them not find out because I’m sure your mom would slap the shit out of me the next time I bring her the mail.”

“Sunghoon—” You snort in a mocking tone. “My mom set you up on a date with me, you’re gonna take me home and show me a good time within an hour of meeting me. Imagine if she found out you’re not as sweet and innocent as she thinks–”

His face goes warm, but his eyes darken a bit as he looks at you. “Listen, I don’t usually do this.”

“Well yeah, you seem too boring to actually have some fun.”

Offense taken.

And when he says nothing else to that, you speak up again, this time a bit more gentle.

“Don’t feel like you have to. I can go home and we can pretend this never happened.”

“No, no,” Sunghoon assures, making eye contact with the waitress as if to silently ask for the check. “I could use the distraction.”

He was slim when he stood up, obnoxiously attractive getting into his stupidly expensive car, and even the way he drove in front of you pissed you off. He drove the speed limit all the way to the familiar street of your childhood. What a boring, boring man.

When he pulls into his driveway, you aren’t sure if you should park at his house or your own. You realize if you park at either your parents will wonder why you’re parking in their driveway but not in their living room, or wonder why you’re parked in the clean-cut Sunghoon’s driveway because he would never fuck their daughter on the first date.

You opt to park a block away, walking to Sunghoon’s house and feeling a bit silly for hiding.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Fitting,” you say as you step into his living room and scan the way he is entirely boring.

“What?” He asks from behind you, watching you judge his space.

“Very monotonous, very you.”

Sunghoon sighs at your constant critiques of him, but he’s smiling through it because you’re still here, and you’re the one who suggested coming home with him.

“I’ve gotta say, I’ve never brought a woman home just to have her insult me,” he laughs, stepping around you and placing his jacket on the end of the couch. “I can imagine that your place hasn’t been cleaned since you moved in.”

You glare at him, slipping your own jacket off and throwing it on his floor out of spite.

“I am a comfortable mess, Sunghoon, and you–” you scan the room once more, “are very clearly uncomfortable.”

He shifts his eyes for a second because, yeah. It’s not that he wouldn’t enjoy having colorful photos on the walls or a couple of knick-knacks lying around. Arguing about it isn’t your purpose for being here though, and he’d much rather skip the banter at this point.

“I can admit that your jacket looks good on my floor,” he takes a step forward, attempting to be as bold as he typically would be with a woman who knows how he is in bed. He’s never had to play off of his own cleanliness though. “I’m willing to make a mess of this house if you take more off.”

Oh, okay.

“Oh, so you can be interesting?” You mock him once again, reaching for the hem of your dress (yes, dress.) and looking at him. “You want to see my clothes on your floor?”

Sunghoon watches you intently, seeing your thighs being exposed more and more as the dress raises. His body is already reacting, becoming more attracted to your witty sense of displeasure toward his entire personality and lifestyle. After all, he’s a computer whizz and you deal with screaming children all day. He wonders why he expected anything less. Little do you know though, he fully intends to have you praising him before the night is up.

“I’d like to see you on my floor,” he answers, reaching for your dress and pulling it up further and above your head. “If I’m being honest, anyway.”

You were trying to go slow with the removal of your dress, mostly to see how he reacts to seeing a woman nearly naked in front of him but damn. You weren’t quite expecting how forward he’s being about it. Here you were expecting to be fucked missionary without any foreplay in a bed with all white sheets, right next to a washer and dryer, socks on, lights off.

“Oh,” you gasp, slightly out of character in his opinion but his body reacts even more to that. He’s already allowing himself to get aroused so, naturally, his confidence is also bubbling up through each thought and word he decides to say to you.

“What, you’re shocked?” He laughs, dropping your dress to the floor and scanning your body. “I can admit that I’m a little shocked too.”

You look at him in confusion, moving your arms over your chest and wondering what the fuck he’s talking about.

“You wore a matching set for a first date? With a complete stranger?” He mocks you this time, stepping even closer and running his fingers along the hem of your bra. You can feel the warmth from his thumb gently rubbing the skin as he does it and instantly your body tells on you in the form of goosebumps.

“I’ll have you know,” you’re the one stepping closer this time, “I always wear matching sets, because I like to feel sexy.”

You’re a liar. You definitely wore them just in case.

He hums, mere inches from your face as he looks down at you. It feels like he’s fucking looming, it feels like he must have his heat set too high or something.

It gets even worse when his eyes don’t leave yours, but you feel his hand drop from your chest only to hear the familiar sound of a belt being unbuckled. He stares at you while he does it, his hair falling in his face at the movement of what he’s doing waist down. For some reason, that does it for you, and you’re already rubbing your legs together as you stare right back at him.

“I think that’s bullshit,” he smirks, slipping his belt from the loops of his pants and tossing that to the floor as well, and then he brings his face another inch closer, “and don’t think I can’t tell that you’re turned on.”

You don’t back down, nor do you admit that he’s absolutely right. You just look at him, watching a strand of his hair fall in front of his eyes that are beginning to darken by the second.

“I’m not turned on, believe me, it’ll take a lot more than–” You’re cut off by him planting his hand directly between your legs, two fingers pressing your panties slightly into you.

“Hm?” He encourages you to say that again, but you’ve got your breath caught in your throat at his extreme change in demeanor.

Still, he’s looking directly at your face, watching the way you try to think of a lie.

“You wanna keep pretending that I’m boring?” He asks, sliding his fingers up and pressing against your clit.

You shake your head, finally dropping the act and blinking at him with empty thoughts.

“That’s what I thought,” He ticks his tongue at you, now pulling his fingers away and showing you that even through your panties, his fingers are already soaked. “Now take the rest off.”

You do as he says, watching him step away with his shirt untucked and his pants undone. You note that he grabs a condom, which for some reason reminds you that you’re definitely about to get railed into the next dimension if that bulge behind those pants implies anything.

Standing there with all of your clothes thrown around his living room, you watch him harder than you already had been. He’s slow when he sets the condom down on the table, and even slower when he walks up to you and places a hand on the top of your head before guiding you to sink down.

“Wha–right here?” You ask, feeling the clean carpet offer relief for your knees rather than the hard wood floors of the room over.

“I said I wanted to see you on my floor, didn’t I?” He smiles, already admiring how shameful you’d appear to be if your parents saw you naked and on your knees for him.

You nod, looking up at him. When you reach forward to actually lower his pants though, he steps back and continues to create distance between the two of you as he backs himself up to the wall and lounges against it.

“Crawl to me,” he instructs, wondering if it’s too much for you but letting out a pleased sound of relief when you instantly do it.

Would you normally let a man tell you to do that? No. Would you ever actually listen to a man who speaks to you like this? Fuck no. You can’t defend your actions when you do it and you also can’t lie that you’re absolutely fucking dripping over it. Like, honestly, he’s going to have to deep clean this fucking carpet by the time you leave this house.

When you reach him, you can feel the heat in your cheeks at the very idea of him from this angle. You sit on your knees, lifting your hands to his pants and lowering them before he can try to draw the process out even longer. You can hear him let out a short chuckle at the way you try to be quick with it, and you already know he’s about to say some shit.

“I didn’t expect you to be this eager.” He talks down to you with a deep and raspy voice, one that sounds entirely sensual. In terms of what he says though, honestly, you shouldn’t expect much more considering how the two of you practically roasted each other before this very instant.

You ignore his words, letting his pants drop to the floor and now reaching to pull his briefs down. You were incredibly unprepared for his size as you watched it stand stiff and raging in front of your face. Not a single hint of precum is seen, and it makes you feel kind of pathetic for how wet you’ve already gotten. It almost feels like a challenge now, to make him feel just as desperate as you do now.

Thankfully, your throat is fairly trained for sucking men until they’re trembling. Hopefully, all those dudes you’ve fucked around with before come in handy and don’t let you down this time around.

Sunghoon watches you from above, smiling over the way you stare at his length before finally touching it. He keeps his cool though, wondering how just over an hour ago you were ordering the worst food a restaurant has to offer, scoffing at his job, his hobbies, and now look at you. What a sight.

“Go on,” he encourages you, pressing his hips forward so that the head of his cock hits your cheek, “let me see how messy you are.”

You roll your eyes at him, gripping the base before closing your eyes and breathing in through your nose. The very second you wrap your lips around him, he has both hands on your head, not moving it, not pushing you down or anything, just resting there. You’d think it was sweet if it weren’t for the fact that he pushes his hips forward after four whole seconds.

So, he’s not going to guide your mouth, he’s going to hold it there? Okay, you guess. Thankfully, he’s not being super rough with it like you anticipated. If anything, he’s sliding himself into your mouth much as you’d do on your own.

He hums out at the feeling of your inner cheeks hugging against his length, pressing in more and more with each thrust of his hips until he finally gets the majority of his length past your lips. He can see you breathe through your nose, but he doesn’t feel resistance at all so he presses his hips in even more, essentially until he’s blocking your airways and your throat is restricted around him in a gag.

Instead of pulling your head back though, he feels your fingers grip the back of his legs, you’re trying. He holds your head there in place, feeling your throat massage his cock in probably one of the best ways he’s ever felt.

“Shit,” he seethes out between a bite of his lip, “you’ve done this before?”

The very thought of you letting your throat be used is enough for him to want to keep doing it, but hearing your response as a half-moaned gag vibrating around his length is a whole other story.

He releases his hands from behind your head just to see if what he thinks you’re implying with those vibrations of sounds is right, and god is he thrown for a loop. You stay there, and even when he pulls his hips back before fucking into your throat once more, you still stay there.

He’s going to lose his goddamn mind because never has a woman been able to withstand this amount in their throat for this long for him. Enough to actually have him a little worried that you’re essentially suffocating on him.

Sunghoon snaps his hips back, pulling out of your mouth and leaning down just a bit to grab your chin and guide your eyes up to him.

“Breathe,” he says, watching the way you smirk at him as if you’ve won some sort of award. He narrows his eyes at you, “You can choke all you want babe, but you’re gonna have to not be this cock drunk if you want to pretend that you’ve got the upper hand.”

That motherfucker. You’re trying to make him show just a hint of desperation for you and he completely flips the tables on you?

Before you can even argue again, he’s guiding your lips back on him. You decide that it’s not over yet, he can talk down to you all he wants, but you’re going to be the one laughing at him by the end of the night.

You allow him to place his hands back on your head, and you kind of like the weight of his cock on your tongue if you’re being honest, but god damn does he have a harsh rhythm. His hips snap languidly but he buries himself deep. Even when you try to look up at him as your nose presses against his pubic bone, he’s looking down at you so casually. Like he feels okay. Just okay.

This time, when he pulls his hips back, he doesn’t have to hold your head steady. You chase his length even as it tries to slide from your mouth, and you start to move your head back and forth in time with his hips. You finally receive a moan from him when you reach a hand up and cup his balls, massaging them in one hand as your saliva bubbles out from around your lips.

“So fucking messy–” he chokes out in a surprised moan, praising you for somehow making this feel even better than it already did.

You hum around him again, feeling the weight of his cock pulse against your tongue and you start to taste more of his precum. Shamefully, you’re starting to want this more and more. You want him to call you messy, you want him to bruise your throat. You don’t mind, now that you’ve seen a snippet of what he’s like when he shows his pleasure.

Just a moment goes by when you feel his hands grip your hair, pulling slightly and following the rhythm of your movements, just putting a bit more force behind them until he finally presses you one last time against his pelvic bone, swirling his hips and stretching out your throat impossibly more around him.

“Just like that, yeah,” his moans echo throughout his empty walls and it causes your eyes to flutter as you try to breathe in through your nose. When you gag, he moans again. “Fuck, you know exactly what you’re doing.”

Then, he releases you and watches with a smirk at the way you pull back in a deep breath before wiping your mouth.

You’re not sure why, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel proud. Maybe it’s because he’s managed to pull out this weird, needy side of you, or maybe it’s because he looks incredibly good looking at you like this after the two of you spit insults at each other all night.

“Do you want me to return the favor?” He asks, finally unbuttoning and removing his shirt.

Seeing him now, you stare at his chest and toned arms, wanting to grab onto them and feel him do whatever it is he wants to do to you. He, on the other hand, can’t tell if you’re nodding to his question or looking him up and down slowly.

“You were so talkative earlier, what happened?” He smiles, stepping forward and falling to his knees himself, nudging your legs open in one go as he presses you back against his floor. “Do you want to fuck my tongue, or no?”

He continues to smile at your silence, eyes trained between your legs as he spreads them and then looks up at your face. “No?”

You shake your head, leaning back on your elbows to watch him and take a breath in.

“It’s hard to talk when you’re like,” you motions towards him, “that.”

He chuckles, taking it as a compliment before snatching a pillow off of his couch and tapping your thigh to get you to lift up. You do so, allowing him to place the pillow under your ass before he settles himself there.

His eyes stay locked on yours as his fingers start to trail to your core, slipping through your folds with such ease that your embarrassment shows plainly on your face.

“Messy,” he compliments, lightly tapping against your clit before lowering his head and blowing softly against the glistening heat you offer to him. “Keep your legs spread for me, darling.”

You still watch him, his eyes glaring up from between your spread thighs as he lets his tongue fall from his mouth and lick one long and languid stripe up your slit, stopping just before your clit and pulling back as if he’s tasting. You’re not sure what it is about him but goddamn, he must know he looks good when he’s pleasuring a woman.

Despite him asking you to keep your legs spread for him, it appears that he doesn’t trust you to do it because he’s still got one hand prying one of your legs apart and his head moving in all sorts of ways as he allows his tongue to lap every part of you besides your clit. Even his other hand, exploring and gently placing pressure against your entrance– the way he’s doing this makes you want to press forward, it makes you want to do exactly as he asked.

You roll your hips forward, and he instantly attaches his lips to your clit. You stop, and he trails back down and flicks his tongue against your folds in a teasing way. You grind forward, he’s right back on your clit, flicking his muscle the same way and eliciting a whine from you.

This time though, when you roll your hips back, he takes both hands and presses your legs open as far as he can get them, spreading your pussy out across his lips for him to take full control of. He nips at your clit before licking down, pressing the pointed muscle into you and only then does he release your legs. Now, he’s sliding both hands under your ass and rocking you against his face, angling his head so that he can lick inside to taste your plush and wet walls.

God, you’re gonna lose it. Even if you didn’t want to, you’d think the way he’s moving his mouth is enough to get anyone to take advantage of it. You moan, pressing forward and back against his mouth as your own fingers fall to your clit. You rub when you press forward, feeling his warm and wet saliva drip from your slit and down to your ass, and you rub harder when you pull back, watching his eyes flutter open and still somehow manage to glare at you.

And just as soon as it started, you blink and his face is right there. You would have let out a shocked sound, because jumpscare much? But you moan instead, because he hovers over you with a smirk and an arm between the two of you, his fingers instantly sliding into you as he attaches his lips to yours with little more than a moan of his own.

“Have you ever tasted yourself?” He asks, licking against your lips and scissoring his fingers open inside of you.

You have, but for some reason it tasted better this time when he prods his tongue against yours. Perhaps it’s because it’s from him, or maybe it’s because you are a little obsessed with the way he navigates sex.

When he pulls back from your mouth, now losing himself a little bit in the heat of the faces you make when you feel good, he can’t help but give you a moan along with your own. You sound so fucking good when you’re not talking your shit, and god he knew that mouth could do more than be annoying.

“Open up,” he whispers against your lips, licking your bottom lip as he thrusts his fingers deeper into you, “let me hear you.”

You can’t really help it. When you open your mouth, you’re practically panting for him. His arm is moving harshly as he fucks his fingers into you and causing you to nearly lose balance on your elbows, but he holds you there with his other arm wrapped around your waist, still licking against your lip and smirking when you still can’t say anything.

“Louder,” He instructs, at least wanting you to moan louder for him if you’re going to act like this when he’s touching you. “Let your momma hear how good it feels, babe, go on.”

Your eyes shoot open after that, and god, he is the fucking worst. Or maybe not, you can tell he does it on purpose. His fingers curling up inside of you and putting intense pressure against a spot that takes every man ages to find if they manage to even remember it.

“Sunghoon,” you groan, rolling your eyes back while rolling your hips forward, hand shooting to his and holding it there, “can’t you just fuck me already?”

He chuckles, dipping his head down to give a sharp bite against your nipple, his fingers still curling up into that spot.

“Soak my fingers first.” He says, floored by how good your voice sounds when you want to get fucked.

He continues to suck and bite against your nipple, and that sends shocks of pleasure straight down to where his fingers meet your g-spot. You could come right now if he’d just–

You roll your hips forward harder, grinding your clit against his wrist and essentially fucking yourself on his fingers now. He moans against your nipple at the movement, biting down harder as he hears you just above him holding your breath. It seems like you like not being able to breath, which is just fucking great for him. Your mom would be so heartbroken, honestly.

“You think you can ride my cock like this?” He asks, popping your nipple out of his mouth and moving those bites up your neck and to your ear, “Think you can take it?”

You nod with heat rushing through your body, feeling his wrist stiffen up for your pleasure to grind against.

Fuck, he can feel your cunt gripping his fingers as you work yourself up and it takes everything in him not to pull his fingers from you and absolutely bury himself into the tight heat you’re offering, but he holds back, pulling from your neck and watching the way your brows furrow and your mouth falls slack.

“Yeah, that’s it babe, ride it.” he encourages, hearing your wet slide against his fingers with each movement of your body.

You shake as it washes through you, feeling his fingers remain in their spot against your little bundle of pleasure inside of you. You feel like you can explode from this alone and he practically forces it out of you, pulling his fingers out and immediately rubbing circles on your clit.

“Let it go for me,” he encourages in a pleasured sigh, watching your body tremble involuntarily as your face contorts to what anyone else would assume is pain. He moves further back and watches your body soak both him and his floor. “Fuck, yes, such a fucking mess.”

Well, that’s never happened before and the fact that you’re still orgasming is also new. You feel so sensitive, releasing in waves that offer little in terms of self control. Your hands shoot to his arm, gripping him so tightly as you try to hear his moans for you, but to be honest, you can’t hear a fucking thing through this wall of arousal in your head.

Finally, you open your eyes and he’s just looking at you, smirking at the dripping against his legs and the wet spot on the floor.

“Messy, messy girl.” He says with a chuckle. “Dirtying up my living room like this? Come on, get up.”

This is the first time Sunghoon has ever had a woman squirt for him, and honestly he’s been trying for ages to let someone experience this through him, goddamn was it sexy to see. You look absolutely fucking gone at this moment, and he might be fucking in love with the image. So badly does he want to see those shaking legs try to stand for him, so badly, does he want to see you fucking buckle.

“Come on,” he says again, not giving you enough time to even think about standing before he’s pulling you up on wobbling legs and pressing your toward the couch.

He watches how you wobble over, shuffling your feet with your knees turned inward with each step. He can’t help but lick his lips, seeing how your arousal drips down both of your legs in a shameless show of how much his fingers alone could do for you.

“Sorry,” You rasp out as you make your way over, brain fogged from the orgasm and unable to feel much at all outside of the pulsing inside of you. “I’ve never–”

“Don’t worry, I like the mess.” He smiles, snatching up the condom and tearing the wrapper open with ease before rolling it down his length, staring at you.

Oh, right, he still hasn’t even fucked you yet. Fuck, he’s good.

He sits himself next to you, pulling an arm around your waist and guiding you on top of him. He doesn’t even think twice at your shaking legs, soothing them as you follow his hand and position yourself against his long neglected cock being held up with his other hand.

“Gonna keep that promise?” he asks, still smoothing his hands over your legs and looking up at you. “Gonna take my cock better than you did my fingers?”

You nod, feeling a pulse of electricity inside of you. Willing you to take more, wanting to be stretched further.

Besides, you know that once you’re seated with his length fucking impaling you, you’ll at least have his broad shoulders to hold onto if you need to stay steady.

And when you sink down, you hear the sound you’ve been trying to pull from him all night. He lets out a soft moan, almost a whimper if you think hard enough about it, and it ignites a brand new fire in you as you take him in inch by inch. Feeling the searing stretch offer a bit of pain despite the sheer amount of wet you have collected between your legs.

He can feel you clench around him in the attempt to adjust, and your legs shaking only offer even more in terms of pleasure as you envelope him entirely with your heat. He can’t help but moan, almost unable to keep up his dominant persona with a pussy so sweet wrapped around him. God, he loves blind dates, honestly.

“Mhm,” he hums, rubbing both of his hands now against your thighs as you sit yourself flush against him and wait to adjust to his size, “I definitely like you.”

You fall forward with a small laugh, the irony of the situation a bit too much on top of your mind falling helplessly and embarrassingly fast at how lucky you are to have a mother to set you up with such a man.

He’s a bit soft at this moment, wrapping both arms around your waist and listening to your breathless laughs against his neck. Loving the way each inhaled chuckle forces your body to squeeze his cock delightfully tight.

God, You’re pretty, and so fucking annoying. Just his type.

“I’m still going to fuck you senseless though.” he finally says, feeling your body still at his words as you lift a bit, just to slide back down on him.

“Is that a promise?” You ask weakly, pretending that he didn’t already manage to do it with his hands alone.

He nods, the softness in his eyes disappearing instantly when he feels the drag of your cunt hug his length. He doesn’t hold back his moaning for you this time though, and he shows no shame in slapping your ass, and guiding you even closer to his chest.

You stand on your knees a bit on top of him, watching his eyes zone in on your tits in his face. Hopefully, he’s going to keep that promise too.

His hips snap up harshly as his hands grope your ass and spread you apart. He snaps his hips again and again, nearly pulling his entire length out of you each time just to fill you up once again. Stretching you open and loosening you up, the pleasure of it hitting him right in the throat each time with small grunts against your nipple when you bounce at the movement.

You whimper out, the sounds still echoing throughout his house along with the sounds of your thighs slapping against his. His grunts are deeper, and all of the sounds together sound like a desperate soundtrack of what you’ve always wished sex was like. He fucks you good, despite your legs still shaking, and despite the pain of his teeth biting against your skin now.

You can’t help it when you fall forward again, hugging around his head as he starts to relentlessly fuck into you at a faster pace, the thrusts going from slow and deep to tight and pointed. His thick cock easily pressing against that same spot his fingers had been teasing earlier. You choke out at the feeling, legs jolting and causing you to sit again out of sensitivity.

He doesn’t falter at your failure to stay in position for him, and instead he gropes your ass harder, swirling your hips around him. You can feel how hard he is inside of you, splitting you open and pulsing at a near constant pace.

“Ride it,” he instructs, much like he did with his fingers and you follow suit, lifting just slightly and sliding back down again. “Harder,” he demands, pulling his head from your grasp and looking up at you with a wild smirk.

You look down at him, wondering how pitiful you must look up here. He appears to be loving it though, absolutely in love with the way you struggle to do what you swore you’d be able to.

Trying again, you begin to bounce on him and he grants you his fingers on your clit for that, moaning at your own choice of rhythm and leaning forward yet again to pop his presumed favorite nipple back into his mouth.

The ministrations of his fingers paired with his mouth sends you spiraling once again into a world of pleasure. The shaking in your legs become more of a driving factor than anything as you ride him better than you’ve ever ridden anyone.

Finally, he’s the one moaning out and trying to string together choked words of praise.

“Your grip is so tight,” he mutters out, kissing up your chest and to your neck, “i can fucking feel you dripping down my legs.” He adds in a moan, losing himself in the way you move your hands through his hair and scratch at the nape of his neck. He wants to ruin you so badly, and he’s already drenched in you. He wants more.

You knew you’d have him just as desperate as you by the end of the night. Now look at him, muttering out strings of curse words as you do nothing but ride and pet him. He’s melting under you, and you’ll be damned if he comes before you get that second orgasm.

Shooting your hand to your clit to replace his lazy movements, you work yourself up to your second orgasm and he just watches you, taking in the image of you practically riding him into oblivion until you’re clenching even tighter around him, throwing your head back and shooting your hands to his shoulders as you harshly roll your hips into his. You’re working yourself through it when he starts pumping into you again, short and tight thrusts pushing you through your orgasm until he’s gripping you equally as hard, holding you down on him as he spills out and into the condom in more of a purr than a moan.

You watch him, dazed out of your fucking mind as he bites against his bottom lip and slowly blinks through his orgasm as you. Part of you wishes he just did it raw, wanting so badly for him to make a mess of you like you did to him.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You find yourself with him at your parent’s house just a week later, eating lunch in the chaotic mess of your mother’s kitchen. It’s funny, really, how he’s trying to be polite to her as if he’s not about to take you next door and probably fuck you against an open window just to blow his own cover.

“I told you he was a keeper,” your mother compliments him as she lays a plate of croissants on the table. “Just yesterday he offered to mow our lawn when we head off for vacation this weekend!”

She’s praising him much like you wouldn’t, and you kick him under the table for trying to suck up to her even more now that he’s fucked you several times already.

“Did he now?” You ask, glaring over at him and then smiling sweetly at your mother. “Guess he is kind of a keeper, maybe.”

His eyes shoot to you and he smiles around his bite of croissant at you.

“You were right though,” he counters you towards your mother, “she’s definitely a handful.”

Your mother crosses her arms as she leans against the counter, looking between the both of you.

“How many dates have you been on without telling me?” She asks, looking at you.

“A few…” If she considers it a date to meet up and fuck every other day this week.

“We had lunch a few days ago.” he adds, backing you up. It’s just that the lunch wasn’t exactly like–you know, at a restaurant, and if she knew that cum was on the menu, perhaps you both would be slapped shitless.

“So, are you guys going to be exclusive, or?”

Sunghoon looks at you curiously, and you look back at him.

“I dunno, it’s only been a week, Mom.”

She nods, clapping once before pushing off of the counter and leaving the kitchen.

It’s silent between you and Sunghoon for a few moments before he speaks up.

“I wouldn’t be against it.”

“Against what?” You ask, looking at him with a raised brow.

“You know, like, dating. I can’t imagine anyone actually putting up with you besides me, anyway.”

You kick him again from under the table, causing him to wince out in pain before glaring at you. You smile in return though, giving him a shrug and now rubbing your foot against the bruise you probably just caused.

“I find myself agreeing with that statement,” You laugh thinking hard about your next words. “But for some reason, agreeing with you pisses me off more.”

Sunghoon nods, smiling through the pain of the bruise forming on his shin.

“Good thing I know how to fix that, huh?” He finishes the conversation, fully aware that he knows how to shut you up and make you love it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

#enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #enha smut

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nevertheless-moving · 2 months ago

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Considering the amount of emotional and moral nuance he managed to muster up immediately post Guanyin temple (despite having a terrible week and zero good role models) AND considering his front row seat to the dissection of Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian’s downfall, I think that in a time travel fix-it, Jin Ling would actually be pretty successful at brute forcing yunmeng family therapy.

I mean he'd probably cry, but even that would be good! Because 1) modeling negative male emotions beside anger, and 2) Oh shit that’s shije’s kid we made Shije’s son cry, fuck, fuck! Bam! Instant high ground! Also he has the most authority of any second gen character by virtue of the fact that he could pull “DO YOU WANT MY MOM TO DIE??? BECAUSE YOU TWO ACTING LIKE MORONS IS WHAT GOT MY MOM KILLED! NOW SIT DOWN AND SPIT OUT ALL YOUR FUCKING SECRETS OR MY MOM WILL DIE AND I’LL BREAK YOUR LEGS!!” It would work! Tell me it wouldn't work!

Not to mention once he gets a few sect leader years under his belt, he might be the best person to manage a fix-it, in general. He's got perspective. He's got political training. Others might get too caught up on the specifics of the Wen remnants or the Ying Tiger Tally or Vengeance against One Person or Another — Jin Ling is critiquing the basic structure of how Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng are living their lives and he's getting away with it.

He would even be good at dealing with Jin Guangyao, the slipperiest motherfucker in the timeline. Jin Ling's got as good a handle as anyone on his motivations, and he has sincere (if messy) affection for him, which would hit Guangyao right in his weak spot. Depending on your headcanons it may or may not be in vain, but he's got a real chance of getting the man to set some more modest and less destructive life goals.

Similarly, I think he'd do a pretty decent job at a harsh-but-fair critique of Xichen's neutrality and Mingue's rigidity and Huissang's delibrate uselessness, though getting them to listen would be more of a crapshoot.

All of this makes it especially funny how badly he would handle Wangxian.

For context: Wei Ying and Hunguang-jun are not just the gayest people Jin Ling has ever met, they are the gayest people he's ever HEARD of.

He wouldn't want to bring it up. He wouldn't mean to. He doesn't want to talk about it. But when he inevitably calls Wei Ying a slur only to be met with genuine bafflement? Jin Ling would completely lose his shit.

Because I don't think Wei Ying is going to get offended, or defensive, or have a response that his nephew could coherently mock. Wei Wuxian thinks 'hey these time traveling guys are actually pretty funny!' Him and Whom? Not even a serious topic of contention. You got me for a second, haha.

Jin Ling would break. Wei Ying eventually says something the effect of "I'm straight? Obviously?" and Jin Ling would nod once, start screaming, then climb across the table to strangle him.

It's — look. How do you fucking explain that all of the worst moments of your life were, in someway or another, characterized by Wei Wuxian and Lan Wanjii being FLAMBOYANTLY into one another.

The man who saved his life also killed his father and Jin Ling stabs him but it feels awful and — ok Lan Wanjii is cradling Wei Wuxian tenderly. Ok they're just going to go. They're leaving like that. Hunguang Jun was — is — was the Yiling Patriarch's widow, so that's another layer to add onto everything else. Hunguang-Jun is visibly expressing emotions with his face and voice and Jin Ling is going to go throw up now

Jin Ling's kidnapped at the burial mounds and everyone’s lost their spiritual energy and all his friends and family are going to die and — those two are smiling at eachother. They're telling inside jokes. They're holding hands.

Jin disciples (his own clans disciples) just shot at him and and Xiao-shushu really is what people sa— WEI YING SHOUTS ABOUT WANTING TO FUCK LAN WANJII

THEY ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF BEING KIDNAPPED AND HE DOES THIS

Jujiu is bleeding from the stomach and crying he's bleeding and crying his jujiu is doing that and Xiao-shushu caused it and his whole life is a lie and Hunguang Jun and the Yiling Patriarch are visibly groping in a corner.

And then they never stop groping again. Forever.

So yeah, I'm quite confident that if Jin Ling had to be even peripherally involved with coaching Wei Wuxian through a bisexual awakening and homoerotic courtship, he would explode. He would black out with rage. He'd make an honest and embarrassingly unsuccessful attempt at killing Lan Zhan. He would walk into a lotus pond and stay there until he drowned. He'd start heavy drinking. He'd punch a random passerby in the dick.

In conclusion, Need More Jin Ling Time Travel Fics

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #Jin Ling #Wangxian #mdzs fandom #mdzs au no 8 #End of the Rope #nevertheless meta

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icyblogs · 6 months ago

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anyone still thinking about fallout? haha anyways here’s more ghoul!ghost (-‘:

Fallout!AU Ghoul!Ghost x Vaulter!Fem!Reader i’d imagine this takes some time after the events of this. but can be read by itself. (: WC: 2.6K Warnings: dark fic, noncon, mdni. Note: thinking about how ghouls canonly are sterile. this is a known fact, only slightly broken by the miracle that is Saint Monica from Fallout 3- which to this day i’m still not sure if it was some sort of gospel or not as it was from Father Clifford, but regardless.

“Well um, well, our community is always looking for new members, we’d be happy to have you!” Brown eyes drift down at your familiar form, tilting his head as he watches your mannerisms as you flit around nervously, too polite to outwardly refuse him. His joints ache as they pop absentmindedly by his side, fingers twitching to dig into the soft flesh of your waist- to claw into your skin, aching to reinstate his claim. “And, there’s a lot of homes being built still as you can see but uh-, but I have a guest room here if you’d like to stay here. Our overseer says there might be a storm coming tonight!”

“Is tha’ right, honey?” Simon croons- voice reverberating in the quiet evening, gloved hand coming up to rest on the top of the doorsill. He leans forwards, soaking in the way you slink backwards into the house, your eyes traveling down the expanse of his broad body.

He was truly a bad man, made worse by this wasteland, you should be running for the hills- not offering him a place in your home. Like letting a wolf into a chicken coop; an insatiable beast that once it had the taste of you, it wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left. To tear you apart- aching to see if you tasted like how he remembered; saccharine ichor, sweet candy floss- it was enough to make his teeth grit, molars grinding together.

His eyes drift down to your left hand, noticing the blatant lack of jewelry, jaw clicking in place. No ring, no memory- it was.. not what he had anticipated when he first approached you later that evening after the communal dinner. Maybe it was blissful thinking that when you’d notice him, your eyes would light up- and you’d run at him- into his awaiting embrace, where you belonged. With your husband.

But, the wasteland had never been kind to him, so why would it continue to be now?

It was mocking in a way, dangling something in front of him, like a piece of meat to a starved, old, dog- one that salivated at the mere thought of it. Of you.

It really was obsolete, how could the world think of keeping the two of you apart? You didn’t belong here with this.. community. With these people. Don’t worry, he’d show you the right way of the world. No need to stay with these vaulters, filling your head about how the world now supposedly worked- this place would probably be blown up in a year or so by some fanatics- why bother staying here?

But if you insisted on playing house here just for a little while, he’d be happy to oblige for a day. Maybe two if he was feeling generous Then you’ll come back home with him in the little slice of territory he’s carved out (blood feeding the plants, bone-marrow for the fertilizer, built on a burial ground of his own creation) to spend the rest of your time together, alone. The way it should’ve been. Maybe chained to the bed so he’d know where you’d be at all the time, so you wouldn’t get lost again.

All safe and sound.

See, Simon never believed in luck nor fate until he met you all those years ago. And it’s pretty damn hard to deny that it exists when you’re standing in front of him more than two centuries later, and he may as well consider himself the luckiest man alive.

“I, Simon Riley take you to be my wife.”

He finds solace with you- even if you don’t remember who he was. Even if you fight against him as he makes himself at home, all but slamming the door behind himself; mud-trodden boots tracking along the wood, smearing dirt and crimson. You don’t have your ring anymore, but that’s okay- he’ll give you a new one so you know who you belong to. Rings of teeth (chipped, missing) along the column of your throat, scarring until there’s no concept of a misunderstanding left.

“To have and to hold from this day forwards.”

It wasn’t your fault that you’d forgotten who you were- wasn’t your fault that you didn’t immediately go searching for him when you had woken up, but it was alright. He’d teach you. Break you apart and take the pieces, building you right back up to how he remembered you.

Eventually to a point where he didn’t have to tie your arms behind your back with a belt or stuff a rag in your mouth to muffle your cries for help. As much as he loved seeing you bound- as much as he loved hearing your noises— it would be a shame to pick through any more corpses for the bullet going through the skull of anyone trying to interrupt the reunion.

“For better or for worse. For richer or for poorer.”

He thinks he’s in heaven, sitting between your spread legs- a bruising grip on your thigh, the other on your stomach, keeping you firmly situated on the bed. Trying his best to ignore the garbled whimper when he pulls down his bandana, watching as your eyes fill with more tears at his face, or lack thereof. Truly earning his nickname, a grim reaper looming over your bound body, licking his chapped lips as he stares unblinkingly down at you. You looked scared but.. it’s okay. Your husband‘s here now, no need to worry.

He leans down to rest against your knee, scarred cheek against soft skin, giving a chaste kiss. He goes up, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the skin up to the gusset of your underwear, trying to recall how you smelt- and he groans, providing an open mouthed kiss to the fabric. Breath warm, reverent as he peers up at you, soaking in how your cheeks looked warm, the moonlight from the outside casting an ethereal glow.

“Poor girl been all neglected, hasn’t she?” He grumbles- giving the fabric another chaste kiss as he peels it off your skin and watches as you writhe beneath him, like a mouse caught by a viper, struggling so much that it only causes his hold on you that much tighter. Fingertips absentmindedly petting against your stomach, making their way up to your breasts, tweaking your nipples to stiff peaks. He was languid with it, like he had all the time in the world. Now, he supposed he did. Slowly, softly- treating you as if you were glass. As if one wrong move would cause you to disappear. Tongue laying flat as he makes out with your pussy, relishing it the way it gushes for him- or how your hips buck when he sucks on your clit just right.

Simon worked you like he was orchestrating a band- each string plucked to perfection, remembering exactly what you liked like you were the back of his hand- knowing what made you tick. What made you unravel. His free hand slips between your legs, causing your thighs to squeeze around his head when one of his fingers starts to coax you open. It wouldn’t be the most terrible way to go out, if it was from you.

Taking his sweet time working you to the edge and then over promptly, eyes rolling back as he laps at your cunt as if your juices was nectar- pure ambrosia. Liquid gold- you really did taste just as sweet as he remembered. He holds you firmly down as he continues to work your high into overstimulation, it was messy- worshiping- tongue, mouth, teeth- and he brings you crashing over the edge for a second time before finally pulling back, watching as you tremble beneath him, eyes a little bit glassy. Brain practically melting out of your ears, unable to really focus- tears slipping down your cheeks, breathing in deeply through your nose as you try and regain some sense of coherence.

He’s never thought you looked more beautiful.

“In sickness and in health.”

It was easy to forget what home was like. Years of corrosion- sinking into grooves of his brain, plaguing his thoughts. Paranoia, questioning— so many voices that it was hard to think. Yet as he looks down at your already tuckered out form, he only smiles- feeling at peace. No voices whispering in his ear- no phantom pains, he felt relaxed, for the first time in a long while. Home was where you were, whether you knew it or not.

Breathing staggered, he kneads at the meat of your thigh soothingly as he works to fish out his cock with one hand, giving it a few lazy pumps as he lines himself up, smearing arousal over your puffy clit. He rests one hand on your knee, notching the head at your entrance- watching you closely as you give a little shake of your head.

“‘ou can take it for me, can’t you love?” He encourages, starting to make his way home. The first inch takes his breath away momentarily, and he moves your knees so they are up against your chest. Watching you flit around and flounder- eyes wide as you gasp for breath behind the rag. Drool falling from the corner of your lips, toes curling at the sheer stretch.

“Tha’s it. Biggg stretch.” He continues to push in until he bottoms out. Thighs pressing to the back of yours, eyes fluttering at the sensation of your cunt tightening around him like a goddamn vice- “Feels like a fuckin’ dream, love. She remembers me huh? Even if you don’t- fuck-“

His hand finds your cheek, throat tightening as he sees your panicked expression, the furrowed eyebrows, staring back at him behind a wall of tears. It was enough to make him almost pull out to comfort you. Almost- you’d understand why he was doing this someday, even thank him for it. “It’s okay, deep breaths, yeah? You can do it.” He coaxes instead, pupils blown out as he looks down at where the two of you were connected, giving an experimental thrust, nearly coming at the pretty muffled moan that makes its way out of your throat. It’s been way too long.

“Feels good?” You shake your head, and his eyes crinkle as a smile graces his scarred lips, his thumb brushing away one of your tears. Going slow at first but he starts to get lost in the feeling of his cock drags in and out of your gummy walls— and he starts to go rougher, ignoring your little whimpers and whines. How your feet try and kick free out of the mating press, and he all but snarls, head dropping to the crook of your neck, teeth nipping- almost as a warning as he continues to fuck you into oblivion.

“To love and to cherish.”

He used to imagine a family with you back then before the bombs dropped. Take a vacation, build a nursery together- paint the walls. Bring a little piece of the both of you into the world. You always did reassure him that his past didn’t define him, that he would be a good father. That he was enough.

Living this long.. had its downside. He knew that. It was an ouroboros, a constant loop, a mindfuck. It’s been hell on Earth. He’s accepted that, a phantom- a ghost living in this wasteland, thriving on those who were more surviving rather than the living. But he never really considered nor cared about a specific aspect of it. Sterile, never able to reproduce.

Simon had once wondered if one day you’d sit outside with him, dinner on the stove, watching as he built a cradle. He could’ve just imagined the baby bump and his eyebrows furrow, picking up his pace as beads of sweat drip down his brow.

It was wishful thinking. But that’s all it was- wishful.

Maybe in another life— but damn did it sound appealing now.

He continues to rut into you, nodding his head as if you were in on the conversation he was having with himself. He could just imagine your stomach all round he starts to pant, dark eyes peering down at you. “Yeah you’d been such a good mama, huh? You’d give me a whole litter of them, wouldn’t you?” His hips stutter, squeezing his eyes closed as he hears your garbled sobbing. Trying to get air through the rag, nostrils flaring for breath. His lips drag up your jaw, gently kissing your eyelids as you keep them squeezed shut, muffled whimpers behind the cloth. “I love you so much. Missed ’ou baby.”

His pace stutters once- twice more and he lets out a guttural groan, releasing up against the base of your cervix. He glances down again, staring unabashedly at the milky fluid coating the base of his cock and his head goes a bit fuzzy at the sight.

The sound of thunder booms outside, rattling the window as the moment comes to an end. Pulling out, he hums as he shrugs off his jacket, ignoring your small sounds of protests as he lays down on the bed next to you.

He easily maneuvers you, his chest facing yours as he starts to slot himself back between your legs. “Settle, jus’ relax love.” He spreads the combined come around before pushing it back inside, keeping you nice and plugged up. “I’m going to remove the rag, you’re not going to scream are you?”

You look at the stranger- the man? Monster- it was hard to tell but you shake your head regardless, trying to appease him. “Course you won’t. Because you’re my good girl- and you wouldn’t lie to me.” Bringing the fabric out of your mouth causes a whine, jaw tingling and aching as you lick your lips, trying to regain some sort of hydration.

“Pl- Please I don’t understand I- why are you doing this— please sir-“

“Simon. Don’ want you calling me anything else.” He interrupts your panicked rambling, frowning as he leans down and capturing your lips in a kiss. Soft, gentle— longing. Even if your eyes were wide and terrified, shaking like a leaf, flinching as you look back at his mangled face. “Now sleep. Don’t want any more talking out of you tonight okay?”

When you don’t respond he nudges your chin up, his brow-bone raising expectantly. “We have a long day tomorrow, don’ want you to be tired, okay?” You catch your lip between your teeth, hiccuping and confused. Eventually nodding, letting out a little squeak when he squeezes your waist, fingers brushing over the leather of the belt. “I know it hurts love, I know- ‘ll let you out of these in the morning alright, just don’t want you to gettin’ into any trouble.” Another smile, and he leans down kissing away the tears falling. “I’m glad you’re here.”

For the first time in years, he feels genuinely content, one leg over yours as he throws an arm around your shoulders, chin notching in on the top of your head. He doesn’t sleep that night, listening to your breathing as you finally fall asleep after a bit of struggling, fingertips absentmindedly trailing up and down your spine. He hears the steady pulse of your heart- sees the rise and fall of your chest, and he smiles, leaning down and kissing your temple.

You were here. Doesn’t matter how, but you were here. Your current state was a problem- sure- but you had all the time in the world to get reacquainted again, and you’d learn to be happy again. To love him again.

“Until death does us part.”

“For this is my solemn vow.”

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #Fallout!AU #Ghoul!Ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #dark fic #call of duty #cod #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader

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calabria-mediterranea · 27 days ago

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The feast of Santa Lucia, in Italy, is a journey through popular traditions, from Sicily to Calabria

Santa Lucia (Saint Lucy) is celebrated in Italy on 13 December.

Santa Lucia was, according to the hagiographies which are our only sources, a young girl from Syracuse in Sicily. Born in 283, she died during the persecutions of the Christians under Emperor Diocletian in 304, on December 13th.

The Life of Saint Lucy

As a young woman Lucy was promised in marriage to a pagan. Christians, like Lucy, were at this time still very much a minority in Syracuse.

However, on a pilgrimage to visit the tomb of St Agatha, Lucy had a vision of the saint which was to change the direction of her life. Agatha spoke to Lucy telling her she would cure her mother’s illness (internal bleeding), which she did. After this experience Lucy knew she must dedicate her life to Christ. She made a vow to remain a virgin to better serve her purpose.

On her return to Syracuse, Lucy told her mother of her decision to dedicate her life to Christ, as well as to give all her worldly possessions to the needy. Her mother was at first, (perhaps naturally) sceptical. But eventually it seems she was won over by Lucy’s faith and determination. Over the following years Lucy’s fame in dedicating her life to the poor spread throughout Syracuse and further afield. The young man who wished to marry her, seeing Lucy give all her money and possessions to the poor, and having been refused, decided to denounce her to the town prefect as a Christian. For some time the Roman Empire had felt threatened by this growing Christian “cult” and wanted a display of Rome’s continuing might and power. Lucy was a well-known figure in the community. If she could be forced to renounce her faith other Catholics might follow her. This was the thinking of those who brought her to trial.

So, Lucy was brought to court, where she was accused of being dissolute and possibly of unsound mind too (this was still largely a pagan society where a person’s wealth and possessions were how they gained status in life). It was to be a public trial, so that the humiliation of Lucy could discredit her religion and serve as a warning to other Christians.

At one point the judge Paschasius mocked Lucy for her virginity and said that she would be taken to a brothel, and here she would “lose her chastity” and then “the Holy Ghost shall depart from thee”. Lucy replied that her strength in God meant that 10,000 men would not be able to move her. When the judge put Lucy’s boast to the test this was found to be true – the men could not move her. The judge subsequently ordered for Lucy to be burned and a great fire was built. Lucy again stayed calm and asked for protection from the Lord, calling herself “a temple of God”. The fire was lit, but the flames did not touch her. Lucy told that crowd that persecution of Christians would not last much longer. Hearing her speak so eloquently the prefect was at his wit’s end and called out for anyone that could kill Lucy. Finally someone (probably a soldier) drew a sword and cut Lucy’s throat, which finally killed her.

Her first resting place was in the catacombs under Syracuse which now bears her name. This became the initial centre of her cult, which quickly flourished.

Patron of light and eye sight

Absent in the early narratives and traditions, at least until the fifteenth century, is the story of Lucia tortured by eye-gouging. According to later accounts, before she died, she foretold the punishment of Paschasius and the speedy end of the persecution, adding that Diocletian would reign no more and Maximian would meet his end. This so angered Paschasius that he ordered the guards to remove her eyes. Another version has Lucy taking her own eyes out in order to discourage a persistent suitor who admired them. When her body was prepared for burial in the family mausoleum it was discovered that her eyes had been miraculously restored. This is one of the reasons that Lucy is the patron saint of those with eye illnesses.

The idea probably came from her name Lucy, which derives from lux which is the Latin for light.

She became the patron saint of light and of eye sight. In artistic representations her attributes are two eyes on a plate in her hand.

Her feast day is the day of her martyrdom, December 13th, which in the Julian calendar is the winter solstice, and hence the shortest day of the year. It is therefore a celebration of the return of light.

The procession and rites in honour of Santa Lucia in Sicily and Calabria

Santa Lucia was born in Syracuse, a city in Sicily where the veneration of the martyr and patron saint is at the centre of fervent popular devotion. The celebrations reach their peak on 13 December, the date of her martyrdom, which occurred in 304 A.D. following Diocletian's Christian persecutions.

On this day, a solemn procession accompanies the Statue and Relics of the Saint from the Cathedral to the Church of Lucia al Sepolcro (Lucia at the Sepulchre), a route that is completed in reverse on 20 December. The Statue is a precious silver Simulacrum, dating back to 1599: the Saint wears a palm and a lily, symbol of purity, on her left hand, on her chest the reliquary with the Relics, on her throat a gem-studded dagger and in her right hand a plate with eyes.

The Statue is carried on people's shoulders along the streets of the historic centre, ancient Ortigia, and many devotees walk barefoot, amid flowers and burning candles.

December 13th marks a particularly heartfelt moment in Calabria, where devotion to the "Saint of Light" is intertwined with centuries-old traditions that combine Christian faith, folklore and ancient rites.

In Lamezia Terme (Calabria), the church of Santa Lucia stands in the upper and old part of Nicastro and for this reason the entire neighborhood takes the name of the saint.

Rectangular in shape, the church is modest in size with a very simple facade. The interior has a single nave and inside there are: a wooden statue of Saint Lucia, perhaps from 1700, which surmounts the marble high altar, the work of the sculptor Pergola (1970); a conciliar altar with bas-reliefs on wood and a sculpted ambo (1980), and in two special niches the statues of the Madonna and the Redeemer.

On the night of December 13th, Calabria comes alive with spectacular bonfires, a symbol of light and purification, which illuminate the squares and alleys of numerous towns.

The "Fireworks of Saint Lucia", in Crotone, are one of the most fascinating and evocative traditions of this day. Their origin dates back to ancient times, when they were lit to chase away the darkness of winter, recalling at the same time the image of the Saint and the solstitial rites.

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loosingmoreletters · 2 years ago

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take an AU haunting me for ages now: the “sects go to the terrifying Yiling patriarch to ask for his help in the war, WWX ends up demanding LWJ marry him” fics?

Yes, that, but kinda in reverse.

The Sects go to meet the Yiling Patriarch and he’s as expected: arrogant, bold, careless, demanding. And using heretic powers to keep his Burial Mounds untouched by the world.

They negotiate, he smirks properly wicked, and and says he wants to name a bride and a marriage to the Lan.

The Lan talk, outraged, but they have a war to win so the agreement is struck: marriage to the Lan and the Yiling Patriarch is allowed to name bride and groom. They write it down exactly like that.

The war happens, but with the Yiling Patriarch’s army of the resentful dead, they lose less soldiers, win more battles. The Lan wonder why they were chosen, perhaps because they hold enough moral sway that any hostage of theirs wouldn’t result in another war? Regardless, Lan Wangji makes it his job to stick close to the Yiling Patriarch, as close as he will let anyone. He has a whole entourage of ghost brides, though only one stays close to him at all times, veiled whenever they have company

They win the war. “Bride and groom,” the Yiling Patriarch says and swears to return in three months. There is talk of taking him down now that Wen are gone, but no one wants to go to war in the Burial Mounds.

The Yiling Patriarch arrives in three months as promised, dressed in red, followed by a parade of people. “I’ve come to collect my debt,” he tells them. “I will name Lan Wangji as the groom,” he says, sparking confusion and outrage. Does he intend to name one of his ghost brides next? And indeed, he reached for one, lifts her veil, revealing living woman, but takes the veil for himself instead. “And I, myself, will be his bride.”

The story goes a little like this:

One. Wei Ying’s parents die and he follows them. Only he is young and alive and curious and the Burial Mounds are very hungry. They devour him skin, flesh, bone, teeth. And they spit him out again. And again again and again.

Two. Wen Qing is her uncle’s favorite, but she’s her brother’s only sister. She fears what war means, what the retaliation might mean. Young Masters go to the Cloud Recesses for study on invitation, Wen Qing goes to the Burial Mounds to beg.

Three. There is very little begging to be done in front of a boy her brother’s age, who hasn’t been hugged in years and keeps the company of murdered brides as though they are his mothers, aunts and sisters. She asks for protection, he asks for a meal.

Four. They cannot stay in the Burial Mounds forever. It is not a place for children even Wei Wuxian realizes that one morning and promptly disappears in his childhood bedroom, a cold cave filled with trinkets of the dead. He survived on the cost of skin, flesh, bone, teeth. They cannot all pay this price.

Five. The Sects knock at his door, a solution presents itself. He dressed Wen Qing like his older sister, veil and all, and hides her among his undead. They strike a bargain.

Six. They could keep a hostage, but a hostage will not keep them fed. Brides, he knows from childhood on, marry out. One of his sisters would’ve taken with her all her servants, had her unwilling husband not killed her on the wedding night.

Seven. “This is why it has to be a Lan,” Wen Qing tells him. Your husband would not kill you like this. They might keep him in some other way, but what could be worse than skin, flesh, bone, teeth? A wedding night of death? Nothing. And if he can help his family by making them servants and himself a bride, he’ll stay locked up in the Cloud Recesses. At least this prison will not spit him out.

What Lan Wangji knows is this: the Yiling Patriarch is mocking them, but there is a debt and a debt must be paid.

They marry in name, no matter how much the Yiling Patriarch taunts him about the contents of a proper marriage, and then they live separately. They keep an eye on him of course, him and his servants, who keep to themselves, settling in Caiyi and the Cloud Recesses, wary, hungry, terrified people - not of their master, but of everyone else.

And then, on accident maybe, a slip of the tongue, one of those servants soak a different name. Within a second, the Yiling Patriarch is in front of them in protection, though he looks less arrogant, less bold, less careless, less demanding. He looks, Lan Wangji thinks, like someone who has more too lose than he’d ever admit. He looks terrified like no one in the Cloud Recesses ever should.

So maybe he should ask him why

#mdzs #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #the untamed #fanfic #aus and ideas

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ilovejeongintoo · 7 months ago

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𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕀𝕥 𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕤 𝕋𝕠 𝕎𝕚𝕟

!WARNING NSFW Content ahead! !MDNI!

Genre: Fantasy, Gladiator/Minotaur? Jongho x Reader, Warnings: murder, deaths, time accurate sexism, strength kink, touch-starved Jongho, size kink, pet names (Nymph, Doc), no condom(wrap it up), praise Wordcount: 3145 Not proofread

I need red haired Jongho back, desperately. Why did I spend more research on ancient roman practices than this story, I'm crying.

Summary: As a female physician in ancient Rome you're in charge of minor duties, getting a call to the gladiator arena wasn't what you expected, especially with the first ranked one requiring a little more than some of your gauze and bandages.

You absolutely hated this part of the job. Being a physician was great and all but the comments from men never ceased to exist. And you were always made to look like an assistant, making countless people die of things that you were sure were treatable, the male physicians always dismissed any ideas you had, no matter how much proof you gave them.

You got the message today that they would need you at the local gladiator arena, that place shouldn't even exist in your opinion, but that would get you to get called a lunatic. As if being a woman in a male dominated field wasn't bad enough.

Usually, they called you to have you confirm that they were dead, you were usually the bringer of bad news and made sure that the important items on the person were returned to the family. Either to be kept or to be buried later in the day with the body.

That was the only positive things about that gruesome place. It reeked of death; the high, white colosseum walls far more intimidating than your little healing hut.

The guards led you through the open walkways getting you into the room with the dead bodies, you grimaced at the sight slightly. This job really didn't get any easier through the years.

"You better make this quick, we want you to look at a few people that are worth more than that pile over there." The other guard laughed. These were people once too.

"Every day, I wonder how they let a woman do a job like this." They weren't saying this out of concern, not to protect your eyes from this view but to mock you from being the gender you were.

"I'll make it as fast as I can." You did mean it, you wanted to get this over with and leave this place.

"You women should just stay and look after the kids, you're not suited for this kind of work." God if you could, you'd punch his face for even uttering a single word to you. The way their gazes ran over your body, undressing you, it made you feel absolutely repulsed. Men, men like this disgusted you to no end, they deserved the pain that Thanatos would give them when they inevitably perish.

They quickly left you, not too keen on watching touching and examining the corpses. You gently cleaned them off, blood grime and sweat stuck to them even after death. They bodies were hard to move around to get to dirty areas because rigor mortis had them laying in the same position after a while. You closed open wounds so they wouldn't leak as much anymore, so that they at the very least didn't sully the burial clothing.

As the very last step you put them on a blanket and covered their naked bodies with a blanket, ready to be taken to the burial grounds outside of the city.

You took your dirty rags and ceramic bowl with you and the rest of your medical equipment. This was the only thing that healers would allow you to do alone. So, you would at least complete these mundane task to the fullest.

You headed back up to the more residential hospital room, here were some guards and gladiators that survived their fights but weren't supported enough to get their own rooms. Just minor injuries and cuts, making you have to cauterize some wounds and treating some with lint, animal grease, and honey. Depending on how deep and bad they looked.

All this work exhausted you to no end but after a few hours everyone was put to bed for rest or were sent off home. Just as you were about to leave yourself another guard walked up to you before you had the chance to go.

"There's still someone you need to take a look at." He started walking down another way, making you follow him, your white tunica being swooshed around. The hallway seemed to drag on for forever until you were stopped in front of a big set of wooden doors.

"This is as far as I'm going to take you, he tends to… get a little aggressive with us guards." He added that he was the number one gladiator right now, so he was basically a celebrity and that you should treat him as such. You pushed the doors open with a short glance back to the lone guard, he was looking at you almost with a sympathetic face, as if he was in pain. Hopefully he wasn't the violent type, you could deal with an aggressive patient, but you weren't built to fight a professional killer.

The first thing you were greeted by was a big room, with lots of dimmed lights, giving it a warm orangish tone in the bedroom. There was a big bed in the middle of the room, it looked as if it could hold at least 4 people.

There were lit candles and torches all around that emitted the warm glow. The next thing you noticed was the hulking figure in the far end of the room, situated in front of a lit fireplace. They must have not noticed you yet because they didn't turn around at all. The door clicked close, that’s when the person turned their head to the side calling out to you.

"I told everyone, that I didn't want to be bothered." Usually you would leave at that, but there must be a reason why they needed to have a healer look at him, so you wouldn't leave until you did just that.

He didn't sound angry, only exasperated that something like this was happening. You moved forward slightly, clutching your things to your body, nervous because you weren't normally in charge of patients of such high profile.

You didn't look at him, out of respect trying to organize your things on a small table to the side of the meridienne that he was sat on. You only saw his outfit for a moment, barely enough to take in the leather pants and boots, a white shirt accompanying it.

"Didn't you hear what I said, do not bother me." You didn't respond, not too sure if you saying you were going to stay regardless or staying quiet would make him more irritated.

He didn't seem to keen on your lack of a response even though he didn't lash out at you. You were done setting everything up and kept kneeling next to him, now finally speaking.

"I was sent here to take care of any wounds tha-."

"I don't need that"

You lifted your head at the rude interruption, quickly getting stunned by the sight of the man.

Fiery dark red hair and a… surprisingly soft face, he looked young barely older than you. Dark eyebrows and eyes that perfectly matched the rest of his face. He didn't look like a gladiator at all. You've been to countless of fights before as a child, too curious to understand the brutality. And all of them were muscly big dark men, they looked like they would fight anyone and anything.

This man looked nothing of the sort. While there was a good amount of muscle on him, judging by the muscles in his arms and thighs, it was like something from a roman statue. One you'd see at the local temples, worshipped for its beauty and perfection. You wouldn't mind doing exactly that.

What?

No, you were here to help, nothing more, no matter how good looking he was. He was dangerous, he is dangerous.

-do something specific doc?"

What? You looked at his eyes. Not properly hearing him.

"I said, do you need me to do something specific doc?" Oh, right, treatment.

"Any pain anywhere? Or any injuries that you sustained; I'd like to take a look at them." He sighed not really wanting to, but seemingly just wanting to get this over with.

"Just a few cuts, on my arms and back."

"Mhm" He wasn't being transparent with you, so you'd just have to take a look now.

You were waiting for him to take his shirt off, but he didn't move a single inch. You didn't know what man-pride was stopping him from just showing you. Hah, this was going to be an even longer day now. "Just take your top off and I'll see if anything needs further treatment, if you don't let me take a look, you'll get an infection and die." You were talking to him like you were scolding a child, patience wearing thin very quickly.

His shirt was off the very next second and you had to hold back a gasp at all the scars littering his skin. It looked pretty, hard work evident in the scar tissue. Evidence of his survival. You took your jug of saltwater stopping just before pouring over a few open wounds. Warning him about the pain that was going to be coming in a few seconds, he just nodded. No flinch, no whimper, no groan absolutely nothing came out of him.

You knew just how much that hurt, like a burning fire the skin would similarily turn a little red. You quickly moved on to put a small amount of herbal paste on the few cuts along his chest impressed by his anatomy again. Hard to the touch but pliable. You tried to be as gentle as possible, as a last step you brought out some honey using it to form a barrier to the wound and disinfecting it again.

Before wrapping him up you caught sight of something on his shoulder, or back? You couldn't quite see from your position in front of him. You reached for his shoulder and then he turned away, glaring at you now.

"That one's fine." Anyone in s 5 mile radius could tell he was full of bullshit right now."

"No it's not and I'm not gonna let you fucking die from a cut that's easily treatable. So turn around or I will sedate you and do it while you're asleep." Welp, now you did it. Now there was no way that he wouldn't get angry, that must have been his last straw.

Your mouth was closed shut tightly in realization of what you had said. Praying to the gods above to help you out of this mess right now.

He was oddly quiet, that made you look at him. He stared at you, up, down, and then turned around. Without any words. You'd rather not mess with his graciousness again, so you also stayed silent throughout the process of caring for his gash, that was a lot bigger than expected. It would most definitely scar but he wouldn't die from a nasty infection at the very least.

When you were done you put some gauze around it, the other smaller wounds had pieces of fabric on them. You let your hands linger a little on his back muscles not wanting to finish out of nervousness of what he would say next and another part of you because you would be able to continue tracing along his body.

That thought in your mind made you stop, today was not your day. You were usually very professional about all your patients. But something about this man pulled you in. Maybe it was the endless scars that ran across his figure or the rough hand that had calluses from hard work, or the dark eyes that were now trained on you.

Dark eyes that were now trained on you.

You hurried a little out of your half kneeling form, not even noticing how one of your legs was on the sofa, knee buried in the soft cushioning.

You were stepping away a little when his hand shot out to grab your wrist.

"You know I don’t hurt women, I have honor as a warrior, as a man." He caressed your hands a little, looking at them, admiring them as if he wanted to figure out how your hands performed the magic of healing his wounds.

Your heart skipped a little at the contact. "I know." You did, he wasn't the type to do such a thing, not with a touch that soft.

"Say doctor, you would help me from all ailments, isn't that right?" He questioned.

"Of course." Had you missed a spot?

He looked up at you, pulling you into him, his chin resting on your stomach as your hands carefully landed on his shoulder. His arms wrapped around you, warming you and caging you against him. He was breathing you in for a few moments, seeming to enjoy the comfort of your closeness.

You couldn't imagine how long he must have been without human touch that wasn't violent or deadly. Someone to hold, to search comfort in.

If he needed that, you'd provide, after all you're a doctor and you just hate leaving your patients untreated.

Your hands wandered up his hair pulling his head back and leaning down and clasping your lips together. Climbing on top of him. You could tell hom much he missed this, messy kisses turning rushed and touches exploring every curve of your body. He tugged at a few stings attaching the flowy fabric of your tunic drop with the help of gravity. His hands finding their place on your waist. And yours making quick work of his pants.

"I missed this so much, you're so pretty, so good to me." You could honestly come from his words alone, your explorative touches from before had you thinking a little dirty before, now this was really happening.

"A true goddess sent down to heal me." His kisses just kept going. "Praise Venus for making you so desirable."

You'd never heard words like this from a man, only familiar with the degrading voice of men. He hiked you up slightly, easily lifting you. Getting you closer, your bodies touching in all places.

Your loincloth and breast covering were the next things to go, he was attaching himself immediately to suck onto your exposed boobs. Taking your nipple into his mouth, sucking, and letting go, looking up at you in pure mesmerism dripping from his orbs.

One hand moved down the curve of your back, over your butt and massaged your pussy. Massaging a few fingers over the sensitive slit.

"Jongho, my name, please, call for me." He paused each time, barely getting the words out over him working you up to your peak.

Your noises were unbelievably loud, you would have been embarrassed but you were too much in the moment to care. Moans and groans coming out of you without an ounce of control, Jongho stimulating you so well that you were praying that no gods above were watching this act between you two.

You were barely keeping yourself steadied, your arms slowly giving out. Jongho seemed to notice and flipped you onto the headrest of the couch, having placed himself between your legs. His fingers were now thrusting into you, you hadn't even notice him pumping them in until you really took a look. His big fingers took up so much space inside you, feeling like the biggest dick that you've had before.

He was still looking at you in that concentrated stare, fully intent on having you cum on his fingers. Which he did, only a moment later. Your teeth clenching muffling the loud moan that threatened to escape out of you. Your legs shaking and clamping against his hand, which was stimulating your clit in slow circles now.

It took you a few seconds to get back to earth and you noticed yourself being turned around, your knees propped up a little, stomach over the headrest now. Comfortable after tingles pouring through your nerves, leaving you sensitive.

You felt your entrance being touched with something wet, round, and big. You knew what it was, pushing slightly back to get him in you. You would be damned if you didn't get his cock in you today. Your prayers were answered at a moment’s notice, in the form of a stretching feeling, it burned a little despite the extensive amount of prep. You felt so full when you hear him mutter a little.

"Just a little more, you can take me." He wasn't even fully in and you felt like he was poking at your organs from the inside, brushing onto all the spots in you.

When he bottomed out you truly felt like you were being pushed to your limits, never having felt like this before.

He touched your stomach, pushing in slightly in amazement that you took him, praises falling from his lips, healing away the burn. When he started moving it felt like your insides were being pulled out, dragging long unfiltered moans out of you. Each thrust had him smacking a little harder against your ass, the skin-on-skin noises becoming almost as loud as you. He groaned and moaned when you clenched down especially hard.

"I could live like this, every day have you here spread on my cock. You'd like that wouldn't you little Nymph?" You fit him like a goddamn glove, he couldn’t even remember how sex felt like before this. Before this heavenly sensation.

"Just look at you." He pressed your back down a little, curving it slightly. And angled his thrusts, hitting even harder, knocking your breath out of you on occasion, not quite catching up on the pleasure and your breath.

You reached your hand back, calling his name, needing something to ground you and he obeyed, grabbing onto yours holding on. When his thrusts grew sloppier more desperate you knew he was close and you were too, screaming his name at the top of your lungs you came a second time.

He spilled himself into you at that, liquid filling you up just as much as his cock did. He carefully pulled out, grabbing a blanket that had been thrown down onto the ground and throwing it over you.

You must absolutely look like a mess but he leans down to press a kiss to your lips connecting you two for a few seconds, stopping himself to not have you cumming and bent over in the next few minutes again, as much as he enjoyed to do that. He pulled you into his arms, your head resting on his sweaty chest.

"Let's sleep or you're gonna be the death of me little Nymph." He kissed your head.

That made you remember, his wounds, making you sit up in his arms and checking him over.

"Jongho! you're bleeding."

He grumbled. Not bothered in the slightest. He pulled you down again, keeping you secured along his body. Not letting you leave his embrace and acess the damage properly.

"You can check on those anytime from now on, don't worry."

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #jongho smut #atz smut #atz x reader #ateez x you

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krahk · 8 months ago

Text

Blood for Ruin

Part One : Part Two : Part Three : Part Four : Part Five : Part Six

Masterlist

Alastor x OFC/Reader (no use of Y/N)

Part Seven

(Or, Alastor and the infuriating woman across the hall and her bad decision making)

Minors DNI, 18+ below

Across the hall, Alastor sat on the edge of his bed naked except for his unbuttoned shirt, head in his hands. He stared down at the proof of his lack of control, his seed that had been captured in his handkerchief and left on the floor as a reminder of this act of weakness. What was happening to him? He had never felt such urges of a sexual nature before, there was always a better way to spend his time. Even overworld, he was ambitious in his passion - there was no time to dilly dally with the fairer sex, broadcasting was an aggressive career path, even more so for a mixed person like him. He required focus, driven to prove himself to those who doubted him.

When his mother fell ill, his sisters - married with children, did not ask for but received his help. He moved his mother into his home for a comfortable life with visits from doctors as her body betrayed her. It was difficult watching her waste away, and he used his extracurricular hobby to distract him from watching her deteriorate. He couldn’t remember the exact reason for the first murder, his routine had not been established yet. But the thrill, the joy, the stimulation of taking the life of an undeserving human blessed with a healthy body while his mothers failed hers gave him a high like no other.

He was quite aware that becoming a prolific serial killer was not the best way to process grief and trauma, nor was it what his mother would have wanted from him. But it seemed like the best way to punish god for taking from those that deserve, that praised him, to enrich the lives of those that mocked. He did commit murder, yes. But it was morally argued (to him) that those lives he took were unwarranted of such a gift. They were liars and cheats, rapists and abusers - one of his final victims he discovered on the same burial ground where he discarded bodies, while this stranger was disposing of his own victim.

He was well deserving indeed, the cause for many young women disappearing off the streets. Mimzy had told him of a John coming by and taking women out who would never be seen again. Once they discovered each other, there was a fight in the bayou, one where Alastor would come out on top but the thrill of fighting his victim became part of his routine, unable to match the same energy without it. He held no qualms about his final actions in life, he had made his choices and Hell was the place to reflect on it but not regret it.

Redemption was not in his cards as he did not feel he would be able to even regret killing the people he murdered. Each and everyone deserved it. Likely the only regret he carried was that one night he did not come home, his death resulting in his mothers inevitable loneliness paired with the discovery that her son was a murderer. He might not have been considered a ‘good’ person in the end, finding more joy in murder than anything else, but he did think he knew exactly who he was and what he wanted.

Since your arrival, his entire being has shifted into something…new. Beyond the bond the two of you shared through his reckless behaviour on earth, you were a fresh sinner. You still acted, spoke, dreamed like you were alive. He heard you constantly correcting yourself when talking with the others, to remember you were dead. Though your own task work through the hotel had been quiet, seemingly boring, you did it with a vibrancy he had not felt himself for decades. Your heart rate would increase when laughing with Angel, your cheeks would burn when Husk would give you a strong drink - things that made him live through it either in his room or while he lurked in the shadows. Nothing he did was ever alone anymore. You were something else entirely, and he was unsure if he would not be feeling anything with regards to your presence, you reminded everyone around you what it was like to be alive.

Yet there was a small voice that betrayed his very way of thinking, one that caused grief when it came to you. He knew very well that without your accidental completion of the half witted, unfinished spell work he truly did forget about, your soul would likely have gone to heaven. Though the judgement between sinners and ‘winners’ was not absolute in who was allowed to ascend, souls like yours did not settle with the scum that was found traversing the streets of Hell. You found a radio while cleaning up for a family you did not know, on break from your simple, modest lifestyle splitting your time from volunteering, or running marathons, or bouncing from one job to another trying to find your path through life. You rarely said anything negative, about anyone, unless it was an honest truth needed to be heard from the one you were talking to. Even then your words were gentle and caring. It was very clear it was his fault you were here, with him. Your soul came to join with the linked soul…and he was here first.

His hands fisted the hair on his head, eyes furrowed and smile shaking. Was his divine punishment supposed to continue with the fact he knew he sabotaged your afterlife? Or that the new emotions and sensations he was feeling were undeserved of someone of your calibre? Did you have similar thoughts? These questions plagued him for a multitude of reasons. For one, it was unlike him to care what anyone thought of him, for another, it was unlike him to care for another. Especially to lust after another. Sexual relations had been such an easy thing for him to avoid that now it seemed his mind was trying to make up for lost time. Everything you did was beginning to send him into a spiral, and much of the time he spent around you was containing his physical reaction to the simplistic things you did, that he would twist into something sinful.

Like today, when you were finally given breakfast, your eyes closing and lips licking as you ate whatever over sugared pastry Lucifer had grabbed for you. It was easy to imagine you in another situation, one away from prying eyes. Where the two of you could push and pull differing sensations through your bond, linking the two of you through sin. Or earlier this week, when you were reading a book in the sitting room, focused on the words on the pages, licking your fingers to turn a page, or wetting your lips during an intense storyline. He was entirely too focused on you and your actions, and the worst part was he was unsure if he could simply blame the tainted magic of your bond.

You were a demented reminder of what he had denied himself in life, a ballooning heart at every fleeting touch. He was having a difficult time remembering what he used to do or what made his mind content before you. He needed to revisit old haunts. Perhaps today he would take a walk through the doomsday district and take a few people out of their misery. Since he introduced you to Rosie she was likely not a safe place to ignore your presence as you had never once brought anyone of considerable interest for her to meet before, she would have some interrogating for him once he revisited Cannibal Town.

Yes, a visit through a district where people were. Most itching to get the worst of it over with, it was already expected by them. His presence would be doing them a favour, really. Yes, a reminder of what used to get his blood boiling before you came crashing down into his life would be an excellent distraction. Mind set on his next move, he cleaned and dressed himself for a night on the town, silently exiting the hotel with intention.

The next morning after your very intense and unexpected kiss from Alastor, your body still felt exhausted, almost like you had overextended yourself. You didn’t remember your dreams, but you were sure they were a mental drain considering the headache you were nursing. Coffee was in the Lounge, and Vaggie was sitting alone on a couch, still silent and distressed from her past coming out to the hotel. You had already reassured her that none of you really cared, this was hell, after all. But for her the only person who mattered was still avoiding her. She had been staying in a vacant room since the meeting with heaven, wanting to respect Charlie’s wish for space. You decided to enjoy your coffee on the veranda outside, wanting to give the other woman some space, and hopefully aid your head with some fresh air.

While you were checking the Hellblazer News, a small independent paper produced out of the business district, Angel came home from what was obviously a long night at the studio. When he noticed you he came and sat beside you, groaning and sinking into the chair.

“Val has been dogging me since we went out, he is so much worse than usual.” He complained, checking his phone notifications, clearing all the ones from Val, which were nearly all of them. “I’m not saying that I regret what I said, because there was no way I was lettin’ him touch anyone, but I wish I could do more than just pay for it later.” You nodded at his statement, but said nothing to encourage him to continue.

“When I came to hell I carried my sexuality like a burden, like I did overworld. It was way easier to get drugs down here, and I was easy to manipulate. I know it was my fault I gave my soul to Val because I thought he loved me, but I wish I could go back to my old self and let him know I didn’t need his love to feel good.” He sighed, enjoying a moment of silence while responding to a few texts. “Please tell me you have had shit men ruin your life too, miss girl, this can’t just be a one way street.” He smiled at his own statement, winking at you when you chuckled lightly at his self deprecating comment. You gave him an apologetic look, as your experience with men in general was pretty limited.

“My dad died when I was little, so no daddy issues…or does that give you extra daddy issues?” You said more to yourself, but Angel laughed out a ‘yea baby’ at your expense, “My mother was paranoid, positive every man ever was going to kidnap me. When she died I dated for the first time, straight out of high school, but he wasn’t bad or anything…just…I don’t know, someone to kill time with. I had no one around me, my family was small except for my Mum’s distant family in Louisiana, so I just used a dating app to waste time. But overall, my experiences have been pretty uneventful.” Mind you, this was all before Alastor, which you would not be discussing with Angel.

Angel was nodding, likely half paying attention as he was yawning every other minute, but just engaging in the conversation was good. These regular gossipy conversations distracted from your situation, which though you had mostly processed, still didn’t mean you always remembered you were in Hell. Even when you thought you knew what hell really was you were reminded of worse things you dealt with when you were actually Alive. Hell had friends, at least. Something that was sorely lacking in your life before.

“So are ya tellin’ me you don’t gotta lot of ‘experience’ with the opposite sex, girly?” He waggled his eyebrows, a smirky grin present. OH now he was engaged, because he was nosy about your sex life.

You laughed at him out right. “I’ve done…stuff, Angel. No like…actual sex, but like…oral and hands and things. The guy I did it with was selfish, and he hurt me when he tried using his hands - not a good listener. So I broke it off before we could go further. I had a feeling I wouldn’t enjoy it much. I’m pretty in tune with my own body though, and I did have some personal aides on earth. But I’ve always been more comfortable with myself.” Angel gawked at you during your ramble, you knew what was coming. “Are you tellin’ me that you’re basically a virgin?” You groaned.

“No. I mean, in the most literal sense? Yes. But I have used toys, and have had sexual contact with a guy, but honestly I don’t think of myself as one. I know what I like, and I’m totally content with that. There haven’t been many opportunities for me to hook up. Especially now, cause like…we’re in hell.” Angel burst out laughing.

“Hell is WHERE you get these opportunities! You are hilarious. Funny girl, you kill me.” You frowned at him in humour as he lost his composure. “This is where I have experienced most of my sexual escapades, and I am sure glad for it. No judgement here, that already happened.”

You spoke up in defence of yourself, “well what if I’m still waiting for a deeper connection?” He scoffed at you, back at his phone, “I can get ya a deep connection, if you get what I mean.” Eyebrows taunting you, and you burst into laughter again, causing him to join in. After a good chuckle, you both settled into your chairs, just enjoying each other's company as Angel scrolled through his social media and you hit the bottom of your cup. It was him who broke the silence.

“I gotta real question for ya though. What is your deal with Alastor?” You tried to snort and look indifferent to him, but Angel was so goddamn good at reading people you were unsure if it would work. “What do you mean?” Attempting to sound confused at his insinuation. His deadpan look of reply made you groan inwardly. “Girl, I’m good at lots of things, but I’m best at picking up tension. Especially of the s~exual nature.” He ran his tongue over his teeth and gave you his famous seductive eye. You thought you were keeping yourself together, hopefully you could keep it going.

You laughed, swatting your hand at him, “Me? And Him? Wait no, Him? Sexual anything? Are you sure we're thinking of the same Radio Demon? He can barely stand me, Angel, I’m sure whatever tension you’re picking up on is simply murderous.” You couldn’t meet his eyes however, staring at the horizon instead, scared the contact would break your composure.

He hmphed. “Girl, if it was murderous you couldn’t be here after he left your room last night.” Shit, he saw Alastor leave your room? Sloppy on his part. You had to go into damage control. “Nothing happened, Angel. Lucifer, Alastor and I went out earlier. And as you know, Alastor does not care for Lucifer. He was merely confirming some of the final details of Lucifer's plans, as he chose to ignore the man for a majority of our excursion.” Man, Hell was making you a great liar.

“Girl.” Okay, maybe not a great liar.

“He was zoned in on your room. On my way back to my room, he flew out of his like a bat out of here, and the vibes he was givin’ was not ‘just wanna double check a few things’, it was obvious. Plus, I didn’t hear no talking, cause your door was open. I heard some other stuff though. Sounded hot.” This was when your face broke, and a blush flew across your face. Angel’s laugh of confirmation got you to look over at him.

“Re-Lax. As if anyone would believe me if I said anything anyway. He’s a creepy mystery. And if he’s hot for you, you’ve gotta be some kinda creepy mystery as well. Cause whatever you did last night made him terrorise the doomsday district after.” He had stood up at this point, stretching so much his back cracked and he sighed in relief.

“Wait, what?” You said once his words caught up to you. “What did he do?”

Angel yawned, and tucked his chair in, leaning on it towards you. “Last night, after he left your room, he went and went full Radio Demon on their asses. Like, mass genocide shit.” Another yawn, he waved a hand at you, “I’m goin’ to bed doll. I’m beat, but yea. You wanna keep thinking nothing is happening between the two of you, you can join me on a double tonight.” You were so concentrated on your own whirlwind thoughts, you asked him to repeat himself. “You wanna join me on my double?”

“Double?” Double what? He groaned. “Fuckin’ virgins man, a double date. Cherry was gonna join me but she’s just bailed, something about blowing up a building on the edge of Vee town. Can’t blame her for wanting to but I can’t go, Val would literally kill me.” A double date? Good grief. Was that a good idea? What exactly was going on with you and Alastor anyway? It wasn’t like you two had any real discussion, you both were just playing a game of touch and go (quite literally). You hadn’t thought too much about him outside of that though. You obviously were physically attracted to him, somehow, despite his frightening existence. But was it because of the bond or because of the growing tolerance to each other's presence? You supposed there was only one way to start figuring it out.

If Alastor needed to kill a bunch of people to figure his shit out, perhaps you could do the same with dates. Angel was right, you didn’t have a lot of experience with men. Maybe you could have a similar connection (though not so binding), at least emotionally, with another person? Who knows. You reluctantly agreed to join Angel, deciding getting out of the hotel, away from Alastor, might help you think. After getting the details from him he left, and you sat in your chair, instantly regretting what you had just agreed to. And regretting that you would have to convince Husk to 3rd wheel with the two of you. You groaned, rubbing and squishing your face with your hands.

Later that night, after complete Radio Silence from Alastor save for his actual broadcast of jazzy upbeat lackadaisical tunes, Angel dressed you up like a little doll and the two of you all but skipped downstairs, geared up to go. You were going to be walking to this club called ‘Lounge’. It served appetisers, cocktails and had live music. It really sounded like a good time and when you focused on that part, not the date, you were pretty stoked. The dress code was semi-strict, according to Angel, and he had chosen a tight black turtleneck dress that went down to your knees, but lacked sleeves. Because of this, the black gradient on your arms made it look like you were wearing opera gloves. Paired with strappy black pumps, you felt pretty fancy. Angel had dressed in a similar style, but instead of a turtleneck, the neckline was sweetheart, and on the stomach was a cutout in the shape of a heart. He wore his standard black boots up to the top of his thighs, and his hair was more tousled than usual. You hair had been pinned back into a loose updo, and the both of you had little gemstones sprinkled in your hair. Husk promised to follow behind the two of you, Angel oblivious to your little shadow, chattering about whoever it was that his date brought for you.

As you entered the club, you kept looking back, nervous until you saw Husk enter and make his way to the bar. You joined Angel in a booth, him texting presumably your dates and ordering the both of you cocktails. Whatever a Blue Hurricane was, it was delicious. But remembering the last time you got drunk you were certainly going to be taking it easy.

As the missing pair arrived, it was obvious that you would not be having a good time. The friend of Angel’s date was a weasel demon, which was the first warning. One bit you when you were a kid and the scar was still present to prove it. The second was when you first met, he was so vulgar that Husk almost got involved, thankfully catching you shaking your head furiously. You let the man talk, on and on, about what he did, liked, positions…Yea, this was a shit date.

He finally picked up that you were uninterested entirely, or he thought hitting on the waitress in front of you was smooth, you texted Angel that you were going to walk home (no worries, it wouldn’t be alone) and thanked him for inviting you out. He read it at the table and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek goodbye and you left the table. Weasel demon nowhere in sight. You noticed Husk had left the bar, and you caught him as he was walking out the door, following your lead at the table. When you caught up to him, his sly smile made you laugh. “Did it look as bad as it went?”

”Dunno, how bad did it go?” The face you gave him made him laugh. “Bad. Really bad.” He smiled, “Well then yes. It looked bad. A shame really, you don’t get out much.” The two of you engaged in some polite conversation as you walked back to the hotel, Husk talking about how he used to wine and dine women when he was alive, how his luck wasn’t limited to just the table and blackjack. He was certain he had more than a few illegitimate children running around, he played fast and loose in all games, with all genders. By the time you both arrived back home, Husk was reliving how he would go to a hangout and dance all night with any girl he wanted. When you admitted no one had ever taken you dancing, he held out his hand and asked you to join him.

”But there’s no music! I may not have been dancing but I know you need music.” You exclaimed, finding the suggestion silly without the complete experience. Husk started to hum a song unfamiliar to you, and you chuckled, grabbing his hand and falling into an awkward waltz. Or at least you thought it was a waltz. It was some form of a box step, but it seemed like Husk wasn’t so much a dancer as he was a charmer. Though it appeared both of you had no structure, you were having a good time, until Husk stopped suddenly and took a step back. Your arms still lifted up, as if they were waiting for him to step back into place, and you faced the direction Husk had started to glare at.

Alastor.

He was at the very bottom of the stairs, head tilted. “What~ever are the two of you doing?” He began to come towards you as your hands lowered. Finding yourself less afraid of him these days, you spoke up. “I’ve never been dancing and I just had the absolute worst time on a date with Angel. Husk was cheering me up, and for that-“ You faced him, “I thank you. Best part of the night, although I wish the music was a bit clearer.” He smiled slyly and tipped his hat to you as he bowed, “Pleasure was all mine. Alastor, give the kid a break, she deserves a nice night out. Not tonight, but eventually.” Alastor had raised a brow and inspected your outfit, nodding in approval to the other man’s words.

”I see. That will be all Husker, you may leave.” Alastor waved him off, telling him to leave rather than suggesting it. Husk made eye contact with you and you shrugged. Alastor was picking under his nails with the same hands claws, seeming bored. Husk rolled his eyes and gave you a salute as he walked down the hall to one of the lower rooms for residents.

“Well my dear, I am afraid that you simply keep making mistakes, what a shame.” You groaned at his tone, closing your eyes to maintain composure.

“What do you mean, Alastor? Agreeing to be Angel’s ‘double?’” You finger quoted at the last word, making an obnoxious face to lay it on thick. “I know. Never again, I don’t know why I listened to him in the first place.”

”Well yes, that too I suppose. But I meant having Husker show you how to dance! Why I’ll have you know I was quite the dancer back in my day,” He pointed his microphone at the Radio in the Foyer and it started to play an upbeat, jazzy melody. He conjured his microphone away and grabbed your hand, leading you into a fast paced dance. You didn’t know what on earth was happening, but Alastor was an excellent lead. You found yourself laughing as he spun you about, trying to keep up with him - he wasn’t kidding, he was fantastic at this! He held on to both of your hands, which was great because you were so focused on his feet and trying to copy them, by the time the 3rd song started you were a bit more confident in your footwork but you were already out of breath. Holy crow dancing must have been a requirement in the 20s and 30s because Alastor barely looked as if he shed a drop of sweat yet. When you finally met his eyes, his smile wide as always, he let go of one of your hands to put you into a spin and bring you back.

The song ended, and he brought the two of you to a closer, slower dance, the song slowing. You found it hard to meet his face, but he thankfully broke the silence first. “How was that?! Quite the dancer, aren’t I?” He smiled at what looked like it could have been…real? Realer than most of his smiles. “Yes! I am impressed! Quite the dancer indeed. What was that dance? What did I do very terribly there for the last 15 minutes?”

He laughed at your joke, “That was the Fox-Trot dear, and something called the Black Bottom, though I mix it up a bit to keep it interesting.” He let you go entirely and the music faded into the background. You took a moment to catch your breath and race through the events that just happened. Date = bad. Husk = adorable. Alastor…Considerate? This was the most physical contact the two of you had with one another, and it certainly made you think. Just earlier today you assumed that your connection with this demon was only because of the bond, but here the two of you were, simply dancing like idiots in a Hell Hotel foyer, Alastor now rambling off about the songs he played and the meanings. You politely followed along without really listening, hyper focused on what you were feeling.

He just showed you he could be gentle, and fun. Patient when you stepped on his feet, and considerate as he gave you the instructions on what step to take next. Now he was looking at you and talking to you - honestly. Why was he constantly putting you in a state of confusion? 20 minutes with Alastor was proving to be leagues better than the hour plus date you went on tonight. Obviously your revelation gave you a certain look, because Alastor had interrupted your thoughts with a question. “And what, may I ask, are you in such deep thought about?” Raised brow, microphone back in his hand as he used it to lean on with both hands.

You quirked a lip, trying to figure out the right words to use. “I’m thinking about how 20 minutes with you had been a great end to my date since the first 2 hours were garbage. I am also thinking about how this is one of the first times we’ve spent time together that didn’t end up getting…a little heated.” He made a small noise of understanding before the two of you fell into a silence.

Ah yes, you were a mood killer. Grand. You kicked at the absolute nothing on the rug and announced you were heading to bed. You thanked him for the dancing, did a curtsy in response to his polite bow, and headed up the stairs.

Shoes and dress off, shower done and makeup removed, you were resting on the bed in your pyjamas, a button up short sleeved silk set with shorts. They were in a deep burgundy colour that flattered your colouring. The entire shower was spent thinking about your time with Alastor downstairs and how he obviously had no freaking clue what was going on, just like you had no idea what was happening between the two of you. It was clear there was more than just a physical connection, judging by how you were over analysing everything you had ever said to the man, hoping you never really sounded like an idiot after that first couple of days. There was a small knock on your door and when you opened it, Alastor was there, though he was a couple steps away this time.

”Evening my dear, I hope you have had time to freshen up.” He said, dipping his head a bit. “May I…come in?” You stared at him, unsure of what you were to do.

“Do you…do you think that would be a good idea?” You asked, not entirely against it but also confused by the fact he would even want to come in. “Well,” he started, picking off some non-existent lint from his microphone in an attempt to look nonplussed, “that depends on what sort of night you want to have, my dear.” Oooh trouble. That voice meant trouble. The kind of trouble that went straight to your crotch and lit your body on fire. Alastor’s facial response to your physical change was a toothy grin and a ‘mmhmm’ reverberating from his mouth. Embarrassed, but curious, you walked backwards back to the bed, sitting on the edge as Alastor came in smoothly and shut the door. He took a moment to look around the room you had attempted to make your own, inspecting every little addition, every detail. Finally he cleared his throat and spoke.

”I find you infuriating.”

“I…beg your pardon?” From the way your imagination was spinning all sorts of potential scenarios, this was not one of them. “Could you…elaborate?”

“I find you infuriating.” Okay, double infuriating. You waited. “Since you have arrived, I am unable to rid my thoughts of you. Your very presence has been invading my routines, my self expectations and responsibilities. I find myself skirting around more urgent matters just to catch a glance at you from a distance. You are making my mind and body betray the very way that I am! It is confusing, irritating and I am unsure if I would be willing to change that now that it has happened.”

You processed the words. Did he just imply he was glad all these things were happening? “Angel said that you went on a killing spree in the doomsday district, did you?” A slight tangent, but your curiosity was itching to find out. “Yes.” Was his curt reply. “Was that because…of me? Us? This-“ you guestured between the two of you, “-thing?” He came to stand between you, eyes lowered but not angry. He was quite unreadable at this moment. “Yes…and no.”

He bent over and grabbed one side of your collar to stroke the fabric between his thumb and 2 forefingers. “I went there because Hell needs a reminder that I am around, and I haven’t changed. But I also went-“ He popped the top button of your shirt open, “-because after our…moment, I felt a certain way, and I was concerned about how far I would deter from my pattern of behaviour if I stayed only across the hall from the source of all of these changes.” Button number two popped open and he lifted your chin to guide your eyes to his. “May I?” He asked, waiting for permission. You could only nod, your cheeks flaring up and you could feel this blush start to spread down your chest and shoulders. What the fuck was happening?

He unbuttoned the next 3 buttons that fastened your shirt together before putting his hand on your sternum and gently pushing you back so you were laying on the bed, looking up at him while your knees dangled off the edge of the bed. Your shirt covered a majority of your skin, but he took his claw and ran it up from your exposed navel to stop at your collar bone. The movement sent chills down your spine, but you laid still, hands beside your hips and formed into fists. He then ran his claw back down, and the resulting effect was a very small moan from your lips.

He brought his hand back up, his knuckle coming to rub the rib underneath your left breast, the movement causing the shirt to fall to the slide, exposing you. Your nipple started to peak slightly, but only for a second before Alastor bent down and took it straight into his mouth. Your shoulders jerked in response, and you could hear a tandem moan to your own. He was carefully toying with your left nipple with his teeth, while his left hand performed similar ministrations to your right nipple. Almost immediately you were over stimulated, pussy throbbing and clit pulsing. Alastor jerked his own hips as you smacked your head back against the mattress and fisted the blankets beside you.

He swapped his mouth to the other side, repeating the same actions, humming while he held them in mouth, causing you to groan. His knee came to rest on the bed, forcing your own knees apart. He was still fully clothed, and he brought his knee up until it rested against the heat of your cunt. He put pressure on it, and you groaned loudly, the sensation overwhelming. He was barely even touching you with his fingers and he had you soaking. Very quickly you felt the familiar build up at the bottom of your stomach, it was happening so fast it was nearly painful. The combination of his knee moving against your sensitive clit, the pinching and biting of your nipples mixed with the reflective arousal that you could feel from the bond with Alastor - who was just as tense with pleasure, had you slipping into despair chasing that release.

You raised your hands and brought them to his head, running your hands up behind his neck to run your fingers through his hair, only for him to grab both of your wrists and pin them beside your head on the bed. He was just slowly teasing one nipple at a time, puckering one up and blowing air on it, shifting his knee to change the pressure to your crotch, smiling wider as your moans escaped your lips. You tried to look down at him while he was overstimulating your body but it was too much for your brain to handle. How on earth had things come to this? You said his name in a shakily manner, stuttering over the first syllable and he hmmd a knowing response, picking up the pace of his ministrations, focusing his mouth on what the two of you discovered was the more sensitive one, knee pushing hard into you. Your hips were moving in a rhythmic motion to increase the friction, and your head was nodding back and forth as you allowed the buildup of pleasure to create a knot in the bottom of your stomach. Suddenly the knot tightened, and then snapped as your orgasm flooded through your body. Your moan of release was animalistic, unlike any sound that had come from you before, and your chest raised, having your head balance on your crown as your body arched to aid in release. A second after you started your release you felt Alastors body jerk in response, moving his hips to help with his own orgasm.

The two of you rode it out together, before he settled on his elbows on either side of you, allowing his body to rest on top of yours. His knees lowered to the floor at the foot of the bed, your own knees closed around his hips as the two of you caught your breath. It was suddenly stifling in your room, the smell of sex strongly pungent in the air. You stared at the ceiling, processing what was easily the strongest orgasm of your life as your mind raced.

Looking down at Alastor he was breathing deeply through his mouth, but his eyes were closed and furrowed. You tested his boundaries by letting your hands wander to his arms and let them rest on him. He didn’t move, and you didn’t push further by going farther, but the two of you laid there until your heartbeats settled. It was clear neither of you knew how to proceed, you were still confused about the turn of events and Alastor was confused how he allowed his basic instincts take over his better judgement.

He initially came to your door to…well for what, he didn’t even know. It certainly wasn’t thought out to pounce on you like a wild animal and bring you to a very intense orgasm that wracked through his own body and presumably ruined a perfectly good pair of trousers. This touch and go, push and pull bond between the two of you was making things difficult to process what he was actually thinking. Lately he was finding it harder and harder to avoid wanting to seek out these responses for you. His own lack of experience and overwhelming emotions that your presence had sparked in him has flipped his world, and he was unsure of how he would, or even if he could revert back into the cool, unaffected overlord demeanour that he had spent nearly a century perfecting. Where did he find those ritual runes again? Someone would have to pay for it, yes decades after the fact.

As you patiently waited, you fought a silent yawn, and found yourself slowly slipping into a comfortable state of pre-sleep. Alastor’s weight on top of you and your recent orgasm was a perfect concoction for restful sleep, and as your breathing slowed down and your lids became heavy, you slipped into slumber hoping that you weren’t coming across as rude (hey, he wasn’t saying anything either) but a part of you that was larger than you thought wished he would be there when you woke up.

Alastor however was grateful you were losing your battle within yourself and falling asleep, because it would make the next few steps much easier and far less awkward for him. He felt perhaps like a hormonal youth would, his lesser brain controlling the body devoid of any intellectual thought. As your breathing steadied into a rhythmic pattern he knew it was safe to move. He braced his head up off your chest and put his chin on his folded hands, propped up by his elbows that still rested on either side of you. He looked down at your peaceful face, content and already with a look of someone in deep sleep. Your face still had a residual flush on it, and your lashes twitched as his own breath hit your face after a long release of air he had been holding in.

Honestly if he was to be linked with someone in such a way, he considered himself lucky it was with someone like you. You were polite, very intelligent about the things you loved, held great conversation and, most importantly, you generally listened to what he had to say. And not that he put much merit into it being in hell, but you were also very pleasant to look at. Beauty fades on earth, but Hell was ageless. Though your demon form had been clearly influenced by his own, he was unsure of what other form you might take had this not happened. Still prey, he noted strongly, perhaps a rabbit or a dog - you were entirely too energetic and loyal. A thought he would focus on another day however, right now his task at hand was to escape without disturbing anyone or anything and clean himself up.

As he rose your body shifted immediately seeking out warmth. He used his tendrils to assist in moving you under the covers, fixing your shirt before using his own hands to tuck you in. He did not have a good answer to why he chose to do that himself, but as he left, the warm light dimmed as his shadows took him into his own room to address his mental anguish alone. He needed to sort out this thing that was starting to build up inside of him, and quickly. This extermination was suddenly far more complicated then the ones that preceded it.

Time was running out, and everyone knew it.

______

I know Alastor is an only child in canon, but he is so scripted as a man with sisters and therefore I live in de-lulu and write it as such.

Sorry for the delay, I’m trying my very best to make sexual moments not awkward and believable. And the idea that real people read it gives me anxiety.

@queermaxwooo @drawings-by-meh @sirens-and-moonflowers @looking1016 @mo-0-o @blakeaha @mutifandomkid @ministarheaven @nightingale0603 @loadedwafflefries @rizzscary @bishiglomper @vividachromatic @fluffy-koalala @mkaella @readergirlstuff @xalygatorx @otherthoughtsofbu @phamtasic @midorichoco @hazbin-h0etel @white-00-7 @little-slyvixen @zzzykiek @iheartalastor

#alastor #alastor smut #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor x ofc #alastorxreader #alastor x you #soulmates trope #hazbin #alastorxyou

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