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jenscx · 2 months

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LUCID DREAM — ning yizhuo

it’s been years without ning yizhuo in your life. it feels surreal; the day you walked out without an explanation. but just the thought of being able to see her again, it draws you back into the endless loop of loving her.

TAGS — angst, exes to ???, insecurity, model!ning, ambiguous ending, mentions of alcohol, making up, jmj wedding (we don’t actually get to witness it tho)

WORDCOUNT — 7.4k

you stare at the wedding invitation, written neatly at the top, the invitation is addressed to a ning y/n. you want to cry. the invitation clearly stating your ex’s name makes your heart clench uncomfortably. it’s a blaring reminder that your relationship ended and you’re no longer living in your childhood fantasy.

“fuck,” you swear, “fuck you, kim minjeong.” you want to murder minjeong, but who were you to ask minjeong to stop reminding you of your bitter ending? especially since it was your own impulsiveness that had ended the relationship. you could have been more understanding towards yizhuo, could have tried her best to resolve your conflict, but no. instead, you ran. ran like the coward you were.

you remember the brokenhearted look on yizhuo’s face, the devastated glimmer in her eyes before she had flipped her expression to another, like a switch. or more like a broken one, your brain offers unhelpfully. of course, the quiver of her lips had given yizhuo away almost immediately. you had known yizhuo for a third of your life, obviously you could tell when your soulmate– or in this case, ex, was about to break down.

you wish you had stayed, and simply comforted your soulmate like old times, but you couldn’t bear to watch yizhuo cry, because of you. you remember the look on your friends’ faces when you told them that you broke up with yizhuo, all the words they had yelled at her for betraying yizhuo. you remember the anger directed at you by yizhuo’s parents when you had sent them an apology letter. through the post, yizhuo had told you, letters felt more sincere than emails.

but perhaps the worst reaction wasn’t from any of them, it was simply from your own cat. meowing viciously when you had picked him up, bringing him together with you. the scratches lining your arms only serve as a constant reminder. mao, your british short haired, was desperately attached to yizhuo (and she was the one who named him too. what absolute luck.) his hostility could only be reasoned that he knew his owner had hurt yizhuo. if a silly little cat knew the extent of the breakup, what could that mean for you?

“wallowing in your grief again? that’s not good for you,” you peer up at chaewon, the only friend that somehow wasn’t connected to yizhuo. chaewon takes a quick glance at the invitation and giggles, “you’re going? i hope you survive, you haven’t paid this month’s rent yet.”

you merely sigh.

“the place’s gonna be filled with people who hate my guts, you really think i’m going? minjeong probably only sent this to piss me off.”

chaewon frowns, “you don’t seem pissed off, just sad. honey, you have to let me know if they’re bothering you, like actually. it’s not your fault, well– maybe it is, but you’re suffering too. it isn’t nice for them to do this to you.” you shrug in response. you deserve it. you deserve every stab in your heart, you deserve the tears that escape in the middle of the night.

“let’s drink tonight, okay? we’ll put on titanic or something and cry about life while eating ice cream,” chaewon offers. maybe it’s the thought of getting drunk, or titanic, or crying in your friend’s arms, but the offer is appealing and you find yourself agreeing too soon.

you can hear chaewon do a silent cheer. it makes you smile slightly and gives you enough energy to pull yourself up from the floor.

“i’ll go get the soju, just lie on the couch and relax!” you follow as your friend says and lie on the sofa you had picked out together after mao’s claws had sunk into the leather, ripping it to shreds. the cat was a brat.

doesn’t this remind you of something– or someone? the voice in your head quips. you groan, why couldn’t your head shut up sometimes? your heart drops as you recall the conversation between your parents when you had told them you broke things off with yizhuo. you remember your mother’s expression; disappointed and upset, a stark contrast to when you had told her that you finally found someone. the proud look on your father’s when you introduced yizhuo to them, god, why the fuck was yizhuo such an amazing girlfriend?

you caused this. you want to scream ‘no’. you’re the one who dumped yizhuo. who are you to be upset over thi–

“y/n? hey, stop thinking about it,” chaewon pouts, “don’t make yourself even more sad!” you blink back into reality and at the sight of chaewon puffing her cheeks out, holding two bottles of soju and a large bowl of popcorn, make you want to coo at the girl. you push the thoughts of yizhuo to the back of your head as soon as the opening to titanic appears on the screen.

you two laugh sometimes, mostly chaewon, but it’s quiet throughout the movie and you can’t tell whether you’d rather have chaewon’s comments about how cute the actors are or the silence that allows you to delve deeper into your thoughts. you take a sip whenever chaewon mentions how in love jack and rose are.

when you blink, it’s already at the part where jack allows rose to get onto the wooden door, while he stays in the freezing water. chaewon throws popcorn at the tv, apparently already drunk, screaming at rose to quote, “fucking move her ass,” for jack to get on. you take a large gulp of soju in the midst of chaewon’s sniffles.

“y/n…i can’t believe it… she just let jack die!” chaewon cries out, “the love of her life, she just let him go! how could she just let him die?!” you nod, trying to drink the already empty bottle of soju.

when you stand up, the whole room swirls and you stumble back onto the couch. “don’t let her go, y/n!” you jump at the close proximity of chaewon’s voice, “don’t let the love of your life go!”

you hum in agreement and scream, “i won’t let her go!” determined, you pick up your phone and the selfie of you and yizhuo greets her. you miss her, don’t you? of course not. you don’t miss her at all. change your homescreen then. you wouldn’t.

you roll your eyes and enter kakaotalk.

y/n [11.38pm]:

i kiss you

i miss you*

read [11.39pm]

“i did it, chaewon!” you exclaim, “i didn’t let her go!”

drunk you is apparently an idiot, since we all know, if a ‘i love you’ can’t solve a crack, obviously a ‘i miss you’ wouldn’t be able to solve an earthquake.

i miss you too. i miss you so much it hurts. but how could you say that, when you’re the one that left me first? yizhuo doesn’t cry as much anymore. she doesn’t sob into her pillow in the middle of the night anymore. the couple posts that appear on her instagram feed doesn’t make tears well up in her eyes anymore.

it still hurts. hurts as much as it did before. and yizhuo might just have to live with that pain everyday. the misspelt word makes her heart throb, in affection and pain, because she could imagine your voice in her head. are you hurting as much as she is? it doesn’t make the stabbing pain in her chest any better to know that the one she loves is suffering.

yizhuo stares at the glaring light from her phone. i miss you. really y/n? she wants to scoff. you were probably drunk out of your mind and sent that text on a whim. or maybe it was meant for another girl. the thought makes yizhuo want to cry.

is there someone else you call ‘baby' now?

fuck, you think, oh fuck. the read blaring on your phone, as if mocking you.

“shit,” chaewon groans, holding her head, “what happened last night? did we accidentally kill someone?” you wish you did. you take a deep breath, and scream. if the neighbours show up the next moment, it’s totally because of the night before, and not your scream at 8 in the morning.

you calm down. eventually. you calm down after chaewon grabs your shoulders and wiggles you back and forth, yelling for you to get your shit together. it only worsens the raging headache the both of you have. if rent wasn’t so high nowadays, you would have immediately fled and lived alone. kim chaewon with a hangover was not a good sight.

“whatever! you drunk texted your ex! whatever! hashtag yolo right— ah fuck, the room is spinning,” chaewon shrieks, “ugh, why did we drink so much?! but! your life isn’t over! so what if you texted her? it’s okay, we stay delusional and pretend things never happened!”

despite the wacky talk chaewon gives, it actually helps. texting yizhuo, while drunk, was a mistake. you nod hastily, “i get what you’re saying, but please let me go.”

chaewon loosens her grip, pursed lips as she huffs, “the most badass thing you can do now is go to the wedding.”

your eyes widen, “what the hell? kim chaewon, are you crazy? no, you’re insane.”

your roommate only grins lazily, “it came with a plus one invite, right? i’ll go with you. it’ll be okay! and don’t you wanna see your friends again?”

“i do, but most of them hate my guts,” you wince, recalling the angry messages left by aeri and minjeong, none from jimin, that probably speaks for itself what she thought of you, “they were yizhuo’s friends first, and mine second. when it comes to things like this, they would, rightfully so, take yizhuo’s side.”

chaewon whistles, “yeah it’s not looking too good for you right now.”

you flop onto the couch, sighing, “if i see yizhuo, i’ll freeze up and make a fool of myself.” your hands fly to rub at your eyes, groaning miserably, “i guess i’m not over her.”

chaewon slides into the space next to you, scoffing, “you think? having her number saved and pinned is crazy and the last time we talked before this, you were in love with her. what happened?”

your heart constricts painfully. you never spoke about your breakup to anyone, only asking chaewon if she still needed someone to split rent with. the moment you had uttered those words, you had left the shared apartment with yizhuo, not turning back to watch the love of your life collapse.

“i…” your throat dries up, “i was in love with her, i guess i still am. i don’t doubt that she felt the same for me, but maybe not anymore. our relationship was the best thing to ever happen to me. the happiest years of my life were when i was with yizhuo. she made me feel alive.”

tears prick at your eyes involuntarily. chaewon’s gaze is full of pity and comfort. sympathy. no one else gave you that.

“she wanted to get married, chaewon,” you whisper, “she was ready for marriage. i wasn’t.”

“oh.”

“i saw her looking at engagement rings one day and god, it was like, how have i never noticed before? she always shows me videos of weddings and how she would want her wedding to be like, but i never stopped to think whether i wanted marriage. i didn’t know what i would say if yizhuo just proposed. would it have hurt less for her if i said no rather than breaking up with her?”

chaewon presses a comforting hand to your shoulder, sighing, “i’m sorry, i literally see two of you right now but i’ll try to articulate this as best as i can.” her words draw out a hollow laugh from you. “you just weren’t ready yet, and yeah, you should have communicated that to her before jumping in to break up, but have you ever thought that you weren’t ready because you didn’t love her enough?”

you swallow, tears flowing down your cheeks freely, “n-no, i love her. she’s my favourite person. i love her so much, too much even. but getting married? that’s a lifelong commitment. i just didn’t know if she was sure that she really wanted to spend the rest of her life with… me. she has her whole life figured out. she’s a rich model who could have anyone else. we were childhood friends first, before girlfriends. and now she’s certain that she wants to marry me? what if there’s someone better for her out there? she’s only been chained to me because we got together so young. i just… had to let her go.”

“commitment issues,” chaewon states, “you have severe commitment issues.”

“i guess so,” you let out a watery laugh. your roommate chuckles, “you want her back?”

“yeah, i’m desperate.”

“let’s go to the wedding.”

you send a small smile to chaewon, “thanks, roomie.”

“i saw the invite by the way, and damn, are your friends rich? don’t get me wrong, i’m going as your moral support but the free buffet too—”

“i’m literally going to strangle you.”

yizhuo twirls the pen in her hand, watching it glide across her fingers and abruptly landing on the wooden table with a thud. she couldn’t stand seeing all the wedding preparations and chose to hide in jimin’s study. the door creaks open, a figure stands by the doorway.

“hello jimin unnie, aren’t you meant to be looking over the finishing touches of your wedding?” yizhuo asks, her smile dimming as she thinks about marriage. jimin frowns, “minjeong’s doing that. she told me to come check up on you.”

“me?”

“i know how you feel about weddings. we all do,” jimin says bluntly. yizhuo’s lips fall into a thin line. of course her friends were aware. they helped pick out the ring for god’s sake. the weight of a velvet box lying in her bedside table haunts her dreams.

yizhuo stands up from her desk, inching closer to jimin, a faux smile on her face, “you don’t have to worry about me. it’s your special day after all.”

“not yet, but let me worry about my friend for a while more before i get married,” jimin mutters, “minjeong sent an invite to y/n.” yizhuo’s whole body tenses up. a blurry image of you appears in her brain. she immediately shuts that down.

biting the inside of her cheek, yizhuo turns away from jimin with folded arms, “and? did she say she was coming?”

yizhuo hears jimin’s hesitance.

“just say it.”

jimin clears her throat, “she’s coming with a plus one.”

a distant thought forms. a plus one. your new girlfriend? did you find someone else? were you coming to the wedding to flaunt your new lover? yizhuo wasn’t dumb, she knew that her friends disliked you, heavily. minjeong most definitely sent out that invitation with disgust. jimin told her what minjeong had said to you. aeri had barely brushed it off, saying you weren’t worth her time scolding, despite the chain of messages she sent. she knew that you were aware they hated you. why would you come to the wedding?

“i-i’m not sure what’s their relationship, but her name is kim chaewon and oh my god, minjeong’s gonna kill me, y/n requested for a shared hotel room,” jimin utters out nervously. yizhuo’s eyes turn into slits. a shared hotel room?

“i see,” yizhuo says indifferently, contrasting the feelings bubbling inside her, “that’s good to know.”

jimin places a hand on yizhuo’s shoulder, “hey, it could all mean nothing, i don’t want you to get hurt again.”

“does it matter when i’m already like this?” yizhuo retorts back.

“i hope you don’t do anything stupid. before everything, you’re still my friend. if y/n showing up makes you uncomfortable, i’ll tell her she’s not invited,” jimin says softly, “minjeong will understand. you come first.”

“it’s your wedding, jimin. i won’t be a burden to you guys. it’s your day,” yizhuo mirrors jimin’s frown.

jimin’s shoulders slack.

“it’s not about that,” the older girl retorts, exasperated.

“what is it about then?”

“i don’t think minjeong will stay neutral and be calm when she sees y/n,” jimin groans, “she’ll probably pick a fight with her and i don’t want my wife to be stressed and angry on her wedding day.”

yizhuo can’t help teasing jimin, “wife, huh?”

jimin smirks, “yes, wife. you know last week, minjeong called me—”

“oh kay! i think you should go!” yizhuo yells, saving herself from the details of her friends’ intimate lives. jimin cackles maniacally as she leaves the study. yizhuo sighs and leans her head against the wooden door. jimin’s footsteps can be heard as she walks downstairs, along with the voices of her friends. they’re all scattered and anxious, she hears the distant shouting of minjeong and aeri. despite the noise around her, yizhuo feels somewhat at peace. for now. she doesn’t know what she’s going to do the moment you come to the wedding.

because despite what everyone else says, yizhuo cannot move on. you were literally half of her life and more. when you had uttered those words of devastation, it was like the world had ended. a terrible nightmare that tortured yizhuo every single day. was she too overbearing? sometimes— well, last time, you had mentioned that she was a very affectionate and clingy girlfriend. was that the sole reason? yizhuo frowns. no, that couldn’t be. you were equally as physically needy as her.

maybe you had found someone new? the plus one that was coming? that didn’t seem plausible either. if you were cheating, yizhuo would most definitely know and you abhorred cheaters anyway.

as she wrecked her mind for reasons, a common past time she developed after you had left, the constant rewinding of the conversation had been engraved in her brain eternally.

(yizhuo had just gotten off work, a smile on her face as she entered the house, heels clacking against the floor. the thought of you waiting at home impatiently for her only brought her smile to widen. maybe you would run up to her and embrace her warmly, complaining about how long she took. yet, neither of those happened and she’s left staring at you, hunched over, at the dining table, a suitcase packed by your side.

“what are you doing?” she had asked curiously. were you going on a trip? begrudgingly, you had gotten up, a sombre look on your face as you whispered, “yizhuo…”

that ticked yizhuo off. you never called her yizhuo. it was always baby, honey, sweetheart. but never yizhuo. it sounded so foreign and cold coming from your lips.

“what’s wrong? is everything okay?” she asked.

your face contorts into one of utter desperation and heartbreak, “i think we should break up.”

yizhuo’s mind had gone blank. she had never anticipated hearing those words from you. break up? that wasn’t in her future with you. her heart clenched uncomfortably against her ribcage and her throat constricted, to the point she couldn’t mutter a single word.

taking advantage of her silence, you run your fingers through your hair, the hair that yizhuo would so lovingly comb through every night as she whispered words of devotion into your ear, “i want to break up.”

“no.” is the only thing yizhuo can say. wide-eyed and stupefied, “no.”

you look as stunned as she is, yet the stark difference between the two of you, are the tears that threaten to tip over at every passing second in your eyes.

“yizhuo,” you pleaded, “i’m sorry. i can’t.”

“why are you doing this?” she croaked out, demanding an answer. the weight of the velvet box in her purse felt like it was dragging her down to the darkest pits of hell. she couldn’t imagine something like this ever happening. you were meant to be her happily ever after.

“i—”

yizhuo couldn’t stand it anymore. “tell me why you want to break up!” she yelled, the confusion and fatigue of her body overwhelming everything.

“i… please… don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“you don’t love me anymore? you found someone else?” yizhuo accused. of course, none of these were the true reasons. you couldn’t even look at yizhuo in the eye before murmuring an apology again and grasping the suitcase in your hand.

“i love you,” you had whispered at the door, “i’m sorry.”

yizhuo doesn’t even respond. pure shock overtaking her as she watched you leave. the moment the door had closed, sobs took over yizhuo as she collapsed on the floor, heartbroken and devastated at losing the love of her life.

if you truly loved her, you wouldn’t have left so easily.)

that statement plagues yizhuo’s mind for the next few years. it replays in her head repeatedly, like a broken mantra. she knows that it’s unhealthy; to be thinking of you every night before she succumbs to a dreamless sleep. yet, sometimes, yizhuo prays that she might be dreaming, and when she wakes up, you would be right by her side. jimin thinks she should get a therapist. but yizhuo doesn’t want to get over you. she fears that you might just become a hazy memory, lost in anger and grief. she doesn’t want that to happen. because despite everything, the pain you have caused her, she still loves you.

it’s strange, the way love works. yizhuo hates you for doing this to her; ruining her for anyone else because if they even bore a similar trait to you, she would just break down. like the blind date aeri had set her up on long ago. fresh out of the breakup, and with extreme bribery and convincing, yizhuo had met shen xiaoting, one of aeri’s friends, over dinner. aeri had said that maybe yizhuo needed someone closer to her culture, and with the homesickness she felt constantly, the lack of comforting words that you provided, yizhuo agreed.

that date was the whole reason aeri stopped asking yizhuo to go on blind dates, for when xiaoting had mentioned that she liked cats, yizhuo had started bawling, the memory of you playing with your own pet cursing her mind.

it was embarrassing to say the least, and even more embarrassing to explain to xiaoting that it wasn’t her fault. the poor girl had thought yizhuo had something against cats. aeri apologised endlessly as yizhuo cried, with an awkward xiaoting patting her shoulder. at least they became friends.

maybe, with the support of her friends, yizhuo would be able to stand the sight of you at the wedding. it would be totally fine! and if she sees you with someone new, maybe, just maybe, it would give her the motivation to finally get over you.

honestly, screw everything. you literally hate chaewon right now. thankfully, jimin and minjeong had provided a one night stay at the hotel. your apartment (and mao) was being taken care of by sakura, one of chaewon’s friends. there was apparently a party before the actual day. you assumed they would just want a shared bachelorette party. however, your self-proclaimed wingman was cozying up to one of the guests. by her straight posture and gentle expression, she was probably nakamura kazuha from high school. yizhuo was friends with her, you remember.

you couldn’t believe that all those words of encouragement had flown out the window the moment chaewon locked eyes with the ‘love of her life’. you roll your eyes, already annoyed with your friend. somehow, you still hadn’t spotted yizhuo amongst the crowd.

most of them, you didn’t recognise. some, from high school and college. the rest, probably family members. maybe some faces stood out, like shin ryujin from history class or jang wonyoung, the valedictorian. but mostly, unrecognisable. from the various mops of hair in the crowd, you spot uchinaga aeri’s infamous smirk. you wonder where the rest of the group are.

you sigh, taking a lonely sip of the champagne they provided. at least it was good.

chaewon’s obnoxious laughter fills the area. it’s loud and irritating, or maybe you’re just easily annoyed right now. kazuha just stares at her, all confused. it’s a little funny.

“y/n.” a steely voice rings out from the crowd. you whip your head, heart racing at the familiar but dreadful tone.

“oh,” you whisper, horror-stricken. you weren’t prepared to meet them now!

the older girl merely stares at you, before you bow your head hesitantly, “congratulations on your marriage.”

jimin visibly loosened up, her eyes twinkling and shining with adoration, “thank you.” perhaps out of all of yizhuo’s friends, jimin was the one who hated you the least. she didn’t bother scolding you or cursing you out, only choosing to glare at you.

“i think we should talk,” she finally says after a moment of silence. you wholeheartedly agree with her. if you were meant to see yizhuo tomorrow, you definitely needed another friend that wasn’t chaewon.

she brings you out of the function room, the starry night sky being the only company outside. jimin takes a long gulp of her champagne.

“why’d you really break up with yizhuo?”

the patiently and dedicated stitches of a sewed wound are ripped apart, directly exposing your bleeding heart and emotions. everything comes falling apart the moment she asks. you can only stare at her.

“i… i made a mistake,” you shake your head, “i wasn’t ready.”

jimin, patient as always, hums, urging you to continue.

“she wanted to get married. i didn’t,” you say, with grief and regret lacing your every word, because everything would be fine if you had just talked to yizhuo.

“we helped her pick out the ring,” jimin adds. you only feel more guilty.

“i can’t give her the life she wants, unnie,” the endearing term of intimacy slips out, a cry filled with desperation, “she deserves the world and i can’t give her that.”

“you were her world. it’s that simple. she only ever wanted you.”

hurt gnaws at your heart, it’s palpitating with raw stabs that echo of your heartbreak.

“i don’t deserve her,” you sigh, “i had to let her go. i couldn’t bear to see the look on her face if i refused her engagement.”

jimin nods, “i understand your fear. but i hate the fact that this could have been solved with an explanation.”

you groan, anger coursing through your veins. you were so upset and narrow-minded at the time. the only solution was to seemingly break up with yizhuo. it would spare her the everlasting pain from a rejection of her proposal.

“i know, i just couldn’t at that time.”

the older girl tries to smile. it’s akin to one of those encouraging ones she would give right before an exam or test. it sparks a shiver of nostalgia.

“jagiya, where are you— oh.”

jimin quickly straightens up, swiftly turning around to face minjeong with a grin, “hey, mindoong.”

you tense up, your fingers wrapping around the glass tightly.

“glad you could make it,” minjeong’s eyes flicker up and down your body, venom evident in her tone as she hisses, “y/n.”

nodding, you reply, “thank you for inviting me.”

the tension is overbearing; with minjeong’s glares, jimin’s beaming smile and your awkward shuffling, you couldn’t wait to retreat to the comfort of your hotel room.

“where’s your girlfriend?” minjeong suddenly asks. you stare at her, confused, “my what?”

jimin’s eyes widen as she hastily pulls minjeong aside, frantically whispering in her ear. but like the past, jimin has never been a good whisperer. you catch phrases like ‘she might not be her girlfriend’ and ‘what if yizhuo hears?’. a looming sensation brews in your stomach.

“kim chaewon? is that her name?” minjeong asks harshly, “didn’t take you to like korean girls, i thought you liked chinese girls instead.”

you’re visibly taken aback. what was minjeong saying? chaewon? your girlfriend? since when was chaewon your girlfriend?

“uh,” despite your fear of minjeong yelling at you, your words come out firmly, “chaewon isn't my girlfriend.”

minjeong falters slightly before scoffing, “yeah right. you don’t have to lie now. we all know that you left yizhuo for some other girl.”

your heart stops. what?

what was she saying?

leaving yizhuo for another girl?

“i— i would never… that’s—”

“minjeong unnie, that’s enough.”

you’ve thought of this moment forever. every single day after the break up. you’ve thought of running back into her arms, apologising endlessly for even thinking of breaking up with her. you’ve thought of how she would accept you graciously with murmurs of comfort, because that was just how she was. a gracious and generous girl who deserved the world. you’ve thought of her bright smile and gleaming eyes.

you’ve never thought of her staring at you, a dull and saddened look on her face.

“ning—”

“minjeong unnie,” she pleads, “please.”

the watery gaze must have swayed minjeong over. you would know, having fallen prey to her puppy eyes before. yizhuo slides the door open, watching intently as minjeong and jimin leave.

“good luck,” jimin whispers just before she steps away. you think you need all the luck in the world right now.

yizhuo lets out a heavy sigh once the door slides closed. she gazes at you for a second. you’re taken back to your younger days, where every day was spent just staring at yizhuo. you had proclaimed confidently that yizhuo was the most gorgeous girl on earth. you aren’t wrong. the years you spent apart from her had done her generously. it had only been two, yet, yizhuo looked more mature and sure of herself.

“did you really find someone new?” she whispers, shattering the glass of ignorance. you swallow, shaking your head, “no.”

yizhuo thinks back to the drunken message you had sent.

“was that on purpose? that text you sent,” she asks, eyes wide and afraid of your answer.

you shake your head again, “i was drunk. i’m sorry.”

“i hate you, you know that right?” yizhuo says. before, you had imagined the piercing stab of pain that came with those words. you had thought it would be the end of your life, with the girl you loved the most saying she hated you.

it’s understandable now, and inevitable.

“i know,” you whisper.

yizhuo continues to stare at you. somehow, this all feels like a fever dream, one that she’ll wake up from soon. it feels unreal to have you in front of her again.

she takes in the sight of you, memorising every detail for if you leave again.

“why’d you come then?”

there are many reasons that you can say, with varying degrees of truthfulness; to congratulate jimin and minjeong, to see your friends again, to just visit your hometown.

“i wanted to see you.” it’s the truthest thing you’ve ever said.

“you can’t,” yizhuo inhales sharply, “yo-you can’t just show up like this.”

“i know, i’m sorry.”

your head hangs lowly.

“tell me the real reason why you left.”

you had expected this.

she would want closure.

your throat constricts uncomfortably.

“i… yizhuo…”

“tell me.” it feels similar to your past.

yizhuo looks as beautiful as ever. she’s the only thing you can think of right now. her lips are moving, yet you don’t hear a single thing.

“i didn’t want marriage.”

oh.

the girl’s eyebrows furrow. her eyes turning into slits of anger as she takes in a deep breath. you know she’s about to start tearing up. maybe you should quickly explain yourself.

it’s your only chance.

“i saw you looking at engagement rings and i knew i wouldn’t be ready if you got down on one knee. you’re a model, for god’s sake. you had a prospering career, being tied down to someone like me wouldn’t bring you any benefits,” you finally say. it’s not the full reason why, but you hope yizhuo would understand even a semblance of your choice.

“i know that it’s a shitty excuse. i know that i’m a coward. but what else was i meant to do?”

yizhuo huffs.

“talked to me. you could have talked to me.”

you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“would that stop me from breaking your heart?”

the love of your life stands before you. yet, it seems like the only words of devotion you’ll exchange is how devoted she is to hating you. yizhuo crosses her arms, frowning, “yes. i’d much rather have a minute of heartbreak than years of it. you’re such a prick.”

“yizhuo—”

“no, you don’t get to do this,” she points a finger at your chest, prodding the area where your head resides ferociously, “you can’t just come back, explain yourself with an extremely stupid reason, and expect that i would be okay with it. you sent me a drunk text, saying you missed me. how come i don’t feel anything?”

“i love you, yizhuo. i just did what i thought was right in that moment—”

the only thing you can hear is your heart shattering into pieces at the sight of tears falling down her face. yizhuo sniffles, her voice becoming shrill as she adds on, “you’re an asshole. you think you’re the only one in this relationship? you didn’t even explain yourself properly. you think you’re making the right choices for us? for me?”

you continue to stare at her blankly.

the next words come out like a gunshot, “then you don’t know me at all.”

it snaps onto your skin, leaving a scathing burn and engraving ning yizhuo’s name into your body. your insides coil up painfully. hearing yizhuo’s cries as you left years ago had been torturous, but nothing beats her breaking down in front of you right this instant. you’re overcome with a striking urge to pull her into your arms and whisper words of affection into her ears, promising her to never leave. the pet name leaves your mouth quicker than you can think.

“baby—”

a sharp stinging sensation sears in your right cheek. you can feel the affected area heating up, scorching hot and red. yizhuo’s handprint is evident, singed in your skin.

an onslaught of tears rises, but you’re determined to not let them fall.

“okay,” you whisper, unable to say anything else to the equally stunned yizhuo, “i’ll leave. i’m sorry.”

the girl just stands outside in the cold, her eyes bloodshot and cheeks rosy from the wind. before you go, the slight shiver that runs through her body makes you hesitate. the comfort of your jacket feels like a heavy burden now.

maybe you would get slapped again. but at least yizhuo wouldn’t be cold.

gently taking it off, you encase yizhuo in your jacket, biting your cheek (which still hurts!) to resist a smile at how it covers her small figure. she gazes at you like a deer caught in headlights. you sigh and try to move your legs, but they feel like jelly. with much difficulty, you finally make it to the door, using the frame to stabilise your wobbly walking.

when you turn back, yizhuo isn’t staring at you, but she’s staring at the night sky, more specifically, the moon. you take one last look at her. the weight on your shoulders is gone now. and all that is left is a longing feeling to have yizhuo back in your arms again. but maybe, you could live with that.

sliding the door open, you go back into the function room. the crowd had dispersed, leaving just a few people chatting around. you spot jimin and minjeong talking while drinking. aeri’s at the bar, engaged in a conversation with a waitress. chaewon, god bless her, is relatively nearby, while kazuha is nowhere to be found.

“chaewon,” you breathe out, relieved. she turns to you, startled, “oh damn, what happened to your face? you look a little…”

“i know,” you laugh dryly, “i think it’s time for us to leave and go to sleep now.”

chaewon doesn’t argue and instead nods, her eyes drawn to the reddening mark across your cheek. even in the dark light, she could still notice the imprints of someone’s fingers.

“she slapped you?” she asks while you head towards the elevator.

“yeah,” you scratch the back of your neck, “we kind of… argued.”

chaewon laughs heartily at your misfortune. you’re glad at least this brings someone joy. maybe minjeong too. she would love to see you in pain.

“i think you should get some rest buddy,” she pats your back. you nod, feeling as if sleep was just an arm’s reach away.

the conversation with yizhuo had drained you significantly, both mentally and physically. and maybe you should put some ointment on the red area too. you might wake up with a bruise or something tomorrow.

the urge to flop into bed is too strong as chaewon slides the keycard into the slot. the door opens, revealing a luxurious hotel suite with a king-sized bed. you remember requesting for a shared room. it was to mainly prevent yourself from doing anything reckless when drunk. you’d have chaewon to keep you grounded.

“did you get kazuha’s number?” you ask as chaewon throws her face cleanser at you. the girl giggles, “yeah. she’s so cute.”

you subtly cringe at the lovestruck look in her eyes.

groaning, you head into the bathroom. your eyes widen as you prod at your cheek, shocked that yizhuo landed such a heavy hit. damn, has she been going to the gym lately? the yizhuo back then barely had any strength to resist your tickles. there wasn’t any surging hot anger left from yizhuo slapping you, just a dull and yearning hope for her. maybe you should calm yourself down by taking a cold shower.

after dowsing yourself with water, you padded out of the bathroom, only to discover that chaewon wasn’t hunched over her luggage anymore.

you check your phone.

chaewon [10.27pm]:

zuha texted me, staying w her for the night

there’s ointment on the bedside table

for ur stupid face

bye :p

wow. chaewon had managed to do that within a day. staying at a girl’s hotel room? you whistle lowly. maybe she was onto something. but with her departure, the hotel room feels too quiet now. only the breezing and fluttering sounds of the airconditioning accompanying your thoughts of self-loathing. collapsing onto the bed, you reach out for the ointment.

just as you unscrew the cap, the doorbell rings. you don’t recall ever ordering room service. maybe it was chaewon and she forgot something?

you turn the door knob, not bothering to check who it was.

“chaewon—”

ning yizhuo stands before you, glassy eyes and a look of desperation that you’re familiar with.

“oh.”

she shuffles awkwardly, gesturing at your cheek, “are—is it okay? does it hurt?”

gulping, you shake your head.

“can we talk?” she asks, in the quietest voice ever, her words coming out shaky and breathless.

you open the door wider.

yizhuo mutters a soft, “thank you,” as she enters the room. you quickly send a text to chaewon telling her not to come back.

“did you put any cream on it?” she asks.

“no, not yet. i was just about to,” you reply quietly. the tension from the heated argument from before had disapparented, only leaving a strained relationship behind.

“can you sit down?”

you follow her instructions dutifully, sitting right at the edge of the bed. yizhuo lifts the ointment up, squeezing a bit on her finger before gently rubbing it into your cheek. it hurts, but the softness of her touch heals the area.

wincing as she applies more pressure, you can only stare at the girl.

“i’m sorry,” she whispers.

“it’s okay.”

you want to pull her into your arms.

you want her to lean onto you.

you want the feeling of her skin against yours.

“i was really hurt.”

“i know.”

yizhuo sighs, her hands dropping.

“i can’t believe you left me so easily.”

your chest tightens at the devastated tone in her voice. it wasn’t easy, you want to say. but it doesn’t feel right to defend yourself now.

“i thought it was the right thing to do.”

yizhuo lifts her head up, “why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want to get married?”

“i don’t know,” it comes out in a hushed murmur, “i didn’t want to tie you down. you had a lot more things to accomplish.”

“i’d rather have you and nothing than losing you and having everything.”

the confession goes unsaid. because you’re her everything.

“i’m sorry. you just had your whole life in front of you and i was in the back. i… i didn’t fit into your life.”

the girl takes everything in. you were just so afraid then. scared that once you said yes to her proposal, yizhuo might realise that you weren’t the one for her. you’d rather be away from her, than be with her and make her unhappy. you didn’t want to live a miserable life where you hated each other.

“you don’t get to make that choice for me.”

“i know, yizhuo.”

yizhuo’s eyes are brimming with tears. her raven hair covering her face partially, but you can feel the pain radiating off her.

“you know that i would have been happy just being with you?”

“i know.”

“god, you still left like it was the easiest decision of your life.”

no it wasn’t, you again want to protest.

“you know that even in another life, i would choose to just have you by my side, even if i lose everything else? don’t you understand the extent of my love for you?”

it’s so surreal— the way yizhuo is practically begging for you to realise that leaving her was the worst possible choice for you to make.

“i love you too much.”

“then why’d you leave?” she asks.

through tears, you shakily breathe out, “because i love you too much.”

the lack of past tense doesn’t bother you, nor does it bother yizhuo. it’s a given that you’re still madly in love with the girl, and vice versa. it only leaves the question of what will happen now. yizhuo doesn’t say much afterwards. it’s the truth. you love her too much that you couldn’t bear to see her suffer because of you.

“i was so ready to marry you, i bought a ring,” yizhuo mutters, shedding tears. her sniffles aren’t concealed by the low humming of the air conditioning. it feels too real.

“forgive me, please,” you say.

“i can’t.”

the hotel room goes quiet.

“that’s okay,” it’s hard to say. you want to protest against everything, beg yizhuo to take you back and you could live your happily ever after with her.

it doesn’t happen. you don’t fall to your knees and plead.

you only stare at yizhuo in a mix of fear and longing affection. it pains you to see her so broken, and it only drives the knife further into your heart to know you’re the reason why.

“i’m so tired, y/n.”

you nod, feeling the fatigue seep in.

“me too.”

“can i sleep here tonight?” yizhuo asks softly.

you nod. there were still things to talk about, but you think you’ve done a decent job so far. pulling the covers over your bodies as yizhuo slides into the bed, you relish in the warmth and comfort of having her beside you again.

she turns her head to look at you, uncertainty filling her voice, “let’s talk more in the morning. i’m tired now.”

you agree with her wholeheartedly, inching closer to fit against her back.

as yizhuo’s eyelids flutter shut, you caress her skin tenderly. your index finger writes against her back, strokes lining her skin.

我爱你.

i love you. it’s one of the many phrases you’ve picked up throughout the years of being with the girl. she only taught you silly words and swears, but yizhuo had insisted you learn how to say and write those very words.

it’s fitting, because it’s all you ever feel for her.

because of yizhuo, you’ve had the opportunity to experience having a soulmate for almost your whole life. because of yizhuo, there’s no lingering doubt of being unlovable. because of yizhuo, you get to spend your days filled with happiness.

because of yizhuo, you understand what love is.

you just hope she understands you too.

#aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #ning yizhuo x reader #yizhuo x reader #ningning x reader #aespa #ningning #ning yizhuo

463 notes · View notes

lancermylove · 4 months

Text

What Gets Him Going? (HC)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Pairing: Leaders x gn!Reader

Warning: N.SFW

Prompt: What you do that he can't resist. Assume older (event TL) because some people can’t do math.

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Malleus

Anything you do with your lips. Touch them with your fingers, running your tongue along your lips, biting one corner, pressing them together often - just anything that draws his attention to your lips.

Wearing anything that is low cut. Being a giant, he can look down at your top, even though he tries not to. You can't blame him, can you? The dragon is head over heels for you.

Looking at him with a seductive gaze. His pants get tighter even before he actively registers your gaze.

If you really want to get to him, call him while you are pleasing yourself and moan his name. The prince will reach your room in a heartbeat.

Lastly, touch his horns, especially the area close to his head. His horns are far more sensitive than anyone realizes. Before you know it, he will have you pinned on the bed and claim you as his.

Leona

When you bend down and have your butt in the air. Leona can't resist himself. Wear something short and bend down, and Leona will take you right then and there.

Leona also can't resist when he sees you in revealing clothes. He has the urge to throw you on his bed and tear your clothes to shreds.

Slide your hand inside your underwear, get your fingers coated with your essence, and bring it to his nose. Leona will growl and devour you until you can't take it.

When you act or look at him submissively. The prince will have a hard time controlling his urges to take you right then and there, regardless of where you are.

Whispering seductive words in his ears. At times, he may pretend it is annoying, but one look at his pants and you will see how it affects him.

Azul

He is one of the easier ones to turn on. Do anything sexy, and Azul will be a blushing mess, even if he denies the effects you are having on him.

Say dirty or seductive words and Azul's pants will get tight enough for the zipper to nearly burst open.

Dress sexily or just stand naked, and Azul won't be able to resist his urge to lay you on his desk and make you moan his name.

Run your hand down his chest, abs, and over his pants, and you will have his undivided attention.

Get on your knees and kiss his tent, and Azul will be claiming your mouth like there is no tomorrow.

The octopus is too enamored with you and finds you irresistible, so anything and everything you do is like a charm spell to him.

Idia

It takes him a while to get warmed up to you, but once Idia is comfortable around you, he will quickly get aroused.

Cosplaying as video game characters, especially the ones he likes. Add a revealing outfit to the concoction, and Idia will be a blushing and drooling mess.

Lay on his bed, touch yourself, and moan his name. Even if he is in the middle of a daily or dungeon run, he will drop his controller and make his way to you.

Whisper sexily directly in his ear, shivers will run through his spine, and Idia's pants will tighten in no time.

Eating anything long and somewhat thick while making eye contact with him. Idia won't be able to meet your eyes, but he won't be able to ignore you either. Add in a little licking action, and he will be touching himself.

Riddle

Much like Azul, he is easy to turn on, but Riddle will try his best to fight his urges. He is a private man, so Riddle doesn't like it when you get cozy with him in public.

When you two are alone, though, Riddle will become a blushing mess even if you caress his cheek.

Speak seductive words, touch his arms or chest, kiss him anywhere but his lips, and stare at him sexy, and Riddle will melt into a puddle.

Kiss his lips, touch his thighs or manhood, lick him anywhere, dress sexily, or appear in front of him naked, and Riddle will be making love to you in no time.

While he enjoys seeing you masturbate, the quickest way to turn him on is by pulling his pants down and sucking him. Riddle can't get enough of the sight of your lips around his length.

Vil

He prefers keeping your intimate moments private, so don't try to get cozy with him in public. Vil will not like it in the slightest.

But you can tease him by 'harmlessly' caressing his arm or chest and giving him a seductive gaze. He won't do anything then, but once the two of you are alone, Vil will make you pay.

Sit on his lap and rub against his tent, and Vil won't be able to resist you.

Tease him. While Vil prefers to take things slow and be romantic, if you tease him enough, he will make you scream his name.

Lace or sheer lingerie. Anything revealing in lace gets him aroused, and add sheerness in there, and Vil will unwrap you like a present.

Brushing your lips against his neck and collarbones, Vil will get turned on, and he will be all yours for the rest of the day/night.

Kalim

Unfortunately, it takes a lot to get him going. Kalim will not register that you are trying to get him hard unless you are blatantly obvious. Like...

If you lay in bed naked, and as soon as he walks into the bedroom, you part your hole for him.

Or when he catches you pleasuring yourself and moaning his name.

Or when you guide his hand to your nether region and moan at the touch.

Or when you caress his tent through his pants, or the times when you are feeling adventurous and slide your hand inside his pants and stroke his length directly.

Kalim will be a puddle for you. Take the lead, and he will be a moaning mess in no time.

———————————————

➣ Twisted Wonderland [1][2][3] ➣ Main Masterlist

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circeyoru · 7 months

Text

Unwanted Soul _ Part 5 = Requested

[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]

The Request

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 2.5 (ask) — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 (here)

How you had such a depressing life was beyond Alastor. He didn’t understand it. Can’t comprehend it! But he pushed these questions back to tend to your sadden mood, tucking you in and lulling you to sleep

Alastor sat next to your sleeping form, the room pitch black save for his glowing red eyes that pierced through the darkness. His staff played soft music to calm you down and fill the silence of the room. The only tears you should be shredding are ones of joy and happiness

The people you’ve mentioned, surely they were in Hell as well. They can’t be in Heaven for causing you such torment. He can’t let you see them, any of them. He needs to get to them first. However, for now, he can’t leave you alone in such a state

His eyes closed as he thought out how he’d torture them. Perhaps skinning them till they beg for mercy and your forgiveness? Pulling out their limbs and draining their blood? Letting the cannibals partake in a feast? No, no, he had to enjoy this. They were your tormentors when you were alive, he’ll show you that he can and will be your protector, even a guarddog if he must

But his heinous thoughts were put to a hold when you shifted in your sleep. He pushed away his thoughts while he watched your serene form rest. He put away his monocle, laying beside you and gently pull you closer to him so he was hugging you to his chest. His eyes drooped close. Perhaps he should let those unfortunate souls enjoy Hell a bit longer. If they crossed his path or yours, their voice will be on his everlasting broadcast

When things got slow for you, you found yourself hanging out with the hotel residents at times. They were an interesting bunch to say the least

Charlie was always happy to see you and would invite you on her little activities and exercises to redeem sinners. Though you’d mostly decline unless it catches your interest in some way. On the rare chance you join, she was very appreciative of your presence and wasn’t shy to thank you for joining in front of everyone. Her cheerful attitude was a bit of a hit and miss for you

There was one exercise that got you sharing something you’ve almost forgot

“Okay! Last two to share! Who’s going first?” Charlie beamed

“I’ll go first, My Darling needs all the time to recall!” Alastor directed the attention to him. “My joy in my hay day is my murders. Oh how I felt the rush when chasing my victims, hunting them like prey in the woods. The warmth of their body fading the moment I repeated stabbed my trusty blade into their weak bodies. The—”

“Okay, okay, you can shut it with the creepy killing. Sheesh.” Vaggie interrupted with a groan. She turned to you who was still in a daze, completely unfazed with what Alastor said. “You ready to go?”

“Huh? Oh, okay.” You snapped out of your daydream, unconsciously, your hand patted on your book that was strapped to your hip. “My joy when I was alive… I barely remember it, but I loved going to the library and read all the books I can.”

“That’s surprisingly cute considering you’re with that freaky smil—” Angel’s mouth was immediately shut with the slap of Alastor’s staff

You continued without flinching, this was all a normal banter between the two already now that you were hanging out with the crew more. “I frequent the library, borrowing and finishing a stack of books everyday. The librarian would recommend me new books or save me my favourite corner. I can even eat and drink in the library just because.”

Charlie’s head tilted, “So you love reading.”

“Not just reading. I love books of all kinds. Sometimes I rad that book just cause I liked the texture or the shape of it. I collect books and keep it like treasures. I hate lending books to other because they don’t care for it like I do.” You fondly smiled at the memory, “Then I got a bunch of notebooks too, because I love the design or the cover.”

Lucifer leaned back into his chair, “No wonder your powers are centered around books.”

“Better call you bookworm now! Hahahaa—” Angel was hit by two cranes, one from Alastor and another from Lucifer. Charlie, Vaggie, and Husk flinched with a face twisted to pain as if they felt that. Niffty was living in the moment, wanting one too

Husk gulped some alcohol, “You better shut that loud mouth of yours if you know what’s good for you.”

Everyone laughed and chuckled, Charlie concluding that it was a good exercise and bonding time since everyone was in attendance. Alastor got up and offered you his hand, bringing you two back to your room. You stayed out of it, being in a daze again

When Alastor asked if you were fine, you smiled and said you were fine, if you needed anything, he would be the first you’d call for. So he left you alone

You didn’t tell them. You were that absorbed into reading that you didn’t realize you were being bullied, you were used. You shared your dream of wanting to be a writer that people would love to read what you wrote and share it with friends, to entertain others. You shared your ideas with your friend but your ideas were stolen from you

The moment you handed in your writing, the publishing company said they had one already and that yours was not up-to-date. They rejected your writing. Days later, you saw the newest novel on sell. The title was so similar to yours that you checked the summary at the back. That was your story idea. But your work was rejected so how was it published?

Your nightmare came to life. A betrayal so painful and chilling. Your friend’s name was on the cover. You remember your hands shaking. It wasn’t rage you felt, it was disbelief and sadness. The trust you gave, the care you gave, and the attention you gave. It was all to stab you in the back

You watched from behind the screens at the achievement and success that should have been yours. All of it, it should have been yours to smile upon. But then you were crying and shutting yourself behind the world of fantasy, an escape from reality

Why? Why? Why!

Closing your eyes for a moment, you locked up those memories. They don’t mean much to you now. Not when you had Alastor with you and an unlikely friendship with Lucifer the King of Hell himself, then there was the silly demons of this hotel. Ironic how you found true friends in demons

That’s why when you saw Mimzy again in the hotel, you were skeptical and burning with rage. She had someone as amazing and caring as Alastor to call as a friend, but she’s abusing it without a care. How she has the guts to come back and ask for Alastor, you have no idea, though you’ve seen her kind when you were alive

“You’re a new soul!” Mimzy’s voice made you want to throw glass or grip something until it broke. “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

“What do you want?” You eyed down at Mimzy with a bored expression

She let out a sound akin to ‘uww’ with a face of disgust. “You’re never gonna get your lucky someone with that attitude.”

Your eye twitched, “I never said I was.”

Mimzy gave you a fake shocked look, “Really? I thought you were going for Alastor!”

You groaned, heading over to the bar to ask Husk for something to drink (not alcohol) because you didn’t want this annoyance to follow you to your room

“Hey,” Mimzy sat next to you without asking, “You know what Alastor’s like when he’s upstairs?”

You ignored her, but your face of silent rage was enough to get her to continue

“You don’t know. He’s a realy lady’s killer! Not literally, but you get what I mean. Girls and ladies throw themselves at him and he doesn’t even bat them an eye. A nice wave and a dashing smile, then he leaves them high and dry! Oh, the broken hearts he had was definitely more than his body count and that’s something!” Mimzy laughed at the end

What’s that got to do with you? You thought to yourself as you aggressive sipped on your drink. Husk eyed you two while cleaning some glass to appear like he was busy. You’ll maybe admit, you were a bit envious of Mimzy that she got to see Alastor when he was alive, you wonder how he looked. Not like you were going to ask

Mimzy endlessly talked bad about Alastor behind his back. What happened to trying to apologise and wanting to make up? No idea, down the drain at this point. As the others around you wonder why you were still humouring the chatty demon, you were wondering the same. Why are you just sitting here and listening to all this?

“You should shut it, can’t you see you’re the only one talking here?” Husk spoke up, indirectly telling Mimzy to just leave you alone

“Aww, and you should do your job, bar cat.” Mimzy teased back. “I’m given this poor soul some attention cause Alastor’s too high of a standard to give some.”

“Ha! Jokes on you. This hot stu— I mean, cutie here’s always got smile’s attention.” Angel inserted himself into the conversation, climbing over the bar to stand next to Husk

You got up, “This is a waste of time.”

Mimzy faked another gasp, “No way. You poor poor thing. You actually fell for him of all people of this hellhole?” She got so close in your face and not to mention your personal space, “I understand why, but! Ha! That’s just bad luck! You’re bound to get your heart broken like all those poor ladies before you.”

Before you said anything, Husk’s wing separated Mimzy from you, “You really need to shut the hell up before you regret it.”

“You shut it fur ball! I ain’t talkin’ to you.” Mimzy snapped at Husk

Deciding that it was not worth your time, you started walking away. This was drama you didn’t want to be involved in and you didn’t want Alastor catching this happening since he sees Mimzy as a friend still

“The hotel won’t allow this.” Charlie tried to establish order and break things off

“Alastor will leave you in the dirt worse than whatever you were before once he’s had his fun with you! You might think you’re on cloud 9 now, but you’re going to be in a world of pain and hurt soon enough.” Mimzy continued, completely ignoring Charlie and Husk’s words

With each step you took, she continued as if singing a song, “Alastor only like things that entertains him. He never commits. He never cares. He doesn’t even have a heart to care! He’s so powerful because he has no room for ridicious things like love. The love he has is only for himself. Alastor is just a selfish heartless motherf—”

“Shut up!” You turned to her, a deep scowl on your face

“This is gonna be good.” Lucifer whispered to the others watching, “But bad for her. Yeah.”

“Shut you annoying f- mouth.” You snapped, unaware that your hair leviated a bit from your rage. “You don’t know how lucky you are to have a friend like Alastor. Alive and dead. But what do you do? You use Alastor’s name just for the fun of it and for your benefit. You just use it! How can you use your friendship with him like this! What’s wrong with your stupid tiny head?! In Hell, you’re supposed to treasure what you have. Not abuse it.”

Mimzy scoffed, “You think you’re so good? So righteous. Well, you would have been up there, now wouldn’t you. Don’t think you’re any better.” She smirked, “In Hell, we use everything and anything to our advantage.” Another gasp came and she covered her mouth, “Oh wait, could it be?” She got close to you, “Haha, you being so defensive and triggered by all this. You really actually did fall for him.”

“I love him.”

“Wait? Couldn’t hear you, sugar—”

“I love Alastor.” You repeated firmly and loudly

“What was that?”

Getting annoyed, you turned to the direction where the question came from. Perhaps it was all this anger in your system that made you slow to realize, “I said,” That you were now face to face with Alastor. “I love you!”

Note: This part's major focus has been mentioned in an ask already. And since it's confirmed that you and Alastor are dating in the latest asks and requests, I'm putting this scene in more detail since asks are trivia for the story

P.S. There's something new planned for future chapters~ Remember that lover and friend mentioned? OCs might be appearing cause I can't do rando short forms. Still thinking... You're thoughts? Or should I just end this series?

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

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keravnous · 1 year

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desperado! ; tangerine/fem!reader (smut 18+)

read pt. 1 here | read pt. 3 here | read pt. 4 here

The Twins are laying low in Amsterdam. Growing bored of being stuck in the hideout all day, Tangerine decides to explore what the shifty parts of the city have to offer at night.

word count: 12,9k

warnings: i mean if atj can dance then tangerine can too, tango dancing bc it's very sexy and steamy ok; car sex, head while driving, oral (male receiving), masturbation (female), fingering, rough and passionate sex, undernegotiated kinks: (light) spanking, daddy kink (once or twice), unprotected sex, choking, pet names, dirty talk, name calling, hotel sex; they steal a car bc why not, short intro from tangerine's pov, small glimpses into his dysfunctionality, rather slow story development at the beginning, i still have very strong feelings about this angry man so please, have this

title is from the song of the same name, desperado by rihanna

the songs they're dancing to are esta noche en vivo by carlos libedinsky and otra luna by narcotango

mel said: kinda sad we didnt get to suck his dick in bathroom b!tch and I said: same

The air is still warm and a little humid despite the late hour, filled with laughter and the sweet, sweet smell of alcohol and marihuana, sweat and summer. Tangerine takes another drag from his cigarette, watches how the smoke curls into the dark sky, illuminated by the colourful lights of the city. He takes a deep breath.

He sighs, relishes in the way his shoulders relax. He feels alive -- again; finally. It's a real relief, has his limbs going a little slack. He had felt anger clawing at his chest for the past week now, the beast inside ripping his skin to shreds and lashing out with its razor-sharp claws - mostly at his brother. But since he had left the flat about an hour ago it has been curled up rather peacefully in his chest, with a satisfied purr in sync with his heartbeat.

Next to him, the water in the canals lays calmly, reflecting the city's lights and echoing the clinking of glasses and music that wafts through the streets. Tangerine passes by a restaurant, people sitting outside under string lights, drinking, chatting, eating and he watches them as he strolls by. They radiate happiness and it catches onto him like a wave, has him smiling at the sight. He takes another drag of his cigarette, enjoys the way the smoke burns in his throat. Jesus Christ, how he had missed this.

There just aren't enough books, good books, that can keep him holed up in a small flat for a whole fucking month. And thus, he had decided to break - well, bend - the rules a little tonight.

Their contact, Henk, had told him about that one spot where one could get anything: from alcohol to various drugs and weapons, maybe even a hitman. If one's lucky. And Tangerine does feel a whole lot of fucking luck pumping through his veins tonight, making him feel a little light-headed, stardust at the heels of his shoes.

His chest feels light and his feet are practically flying over the cobblestones, a smile toying with the corners of his mouth as he lays his head back, watches the illuminated sky above - exhales smoke, inhales the night.

A group of students staggers by, laughing and cheering, passing a bottle of liquor around. His gaze follows them, nostalgia tearing at his heartstrings as he remembers the times when Lemon and him were just that - young and without a care in the world.

Now, their hands are sticky with blood - metaphorically, he had washed his well and thoroughly after last month's job went wrong - and they are both in hiding. Again.

Lemon insisted it would be careless to go out at night, at any time of the day really - "That's bollocks, mate. You can't just go out, can ya? What if they sent someone after us?" -, but especially if it was just to have some fun. Because fuck fun, right?

But, there is nothing else to do anyways, with the way his brain always, always finds a way back to his own recent failure and how it was linked to Bolivia.

Bolivia -- it still leaves him sleepless and shaking sometimes, just like tonight.

Tangerine had been pacing the living room craving a drink until Lemon fell asleep, and then decided that he needed a change of scenery, something to take his mind of the carnage and its debris.

"Yeah, let's just all go fuckin' insane in that flat, huh", Tangerine huffs to himself, looking at his phone. It beeps, signalling him that he is getting closer to his destination. His feet carry him through the streets of Amsterdam, a warm summer breeze rustles his silk shirt and cools his warm skin as he passes by restaurants, bars and closed book and flower shops.

Eventually, he comes to a halt in front of a launderette: Wassen bij Muriel.

The neon lights inside are on, illuminating the sidewalk in a cold white. He blinks. There is no one inside but an old lady behind the counter and a grimly looking man sitting on a plastic stool in the back corner. He can hear faint music coming from behind the glass door.

To an unsuspecting tourist it would look like a rancid shop but to him, it doesn't. Tangerine knows better, has been to a lot of places like this.

"Alright", he says - lets his neck crack once, twice and throws his cigarette away - before pushing the door open, the bell above ringing.

***

You watch your friend leaning down towards the young woman, sitting in a darkened corner. Your father never wanted you to befriend any of his third or fourth row dealers but you never were one to follow rules, always going for the next thrill, the next rush of adrenaline. But tonight, there's been no rush so far, no tingling of your veins - just pure and blank boredom.

You had picked out your favourite dress in the prospect of being offered to dance with a handsome stranger, even ditched on the underwear to make sure the thin fabric hugged your curves nicely, but the men in here are mostly uninteresting, ordinary - simple dealers or lowlife thugs, street criminals that steal money from unwary tourists.

You watch how your friend, with a quick sleight of hand, exchanges cocaine for money, laughing at the woman like she is an old friend and then makes his way back to the bar. He winks at you and squeezes past a young couple, orders himself a drink.

You swirl your glass between your fingers, watching the remaining puddle of wine running up and down its walls - dripping down like blood - and then bring it up to your lips, emptying it in one sip. The taste is warm and full, rich and you close your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to get lost in the strumming of the band's contrabass and the red wine on your tongue. It reminds you of that one time in Bogotá, when you and your father had visited his suppliers - wine and music melting together with the summer heat, having you dream of the jungle, old villages, and the beaches of private islands off the coast.

Your father had dragged you along once more, this time to Amsterdam, despite your pleas not to - "You will have to take over one day and I want you to be prepared" - and you were gladly sneaking away when your friend invited you to spend the night at his favourite bar.

It is a tango joint and a beautiful place, an old basement with low ceilings and a small bar, people and furniture bathed in colourful neon lights. Purple and red are dancing across faces and sweaty bodies - swirling over the dance floor or pressed against the cold walls, tongues shoved into mouths - reflecting off glasses and expensive jewellery.

It is a place where people like you and your friends get together: the upcoming generation of an international crime elite, sons and daughters throwing away their parents’ blood or drug money, getting high and drunk hidden by the shadows of the night, staying awake until the sun rises again. It's a place where people like you mix and mingle with those working for your families, a welcome change to a certain hierarchy at something a civilian would naively call a safe space.

You open your eyes again, as the band starts to play a new song, blinking while your eyes adjust to the dim, colourful lights. There still are couples swirling across the dance floor to the sensual rhythm of the tango, that the small band in the back is playing. You let out a sigh at both, the loneliness and the boredom creeping in on you, and turn around on your barstool to order yourself another drink as --

Your shoulder suddenly connects heavily with something firm and warm - triggering a muttered Fuckin' hell - and a second later the man, who you just bumped into, turns around. He looks pissed, left eye twitching.

"'M sorry", you say quickly, a little taken aback by both: his anger and his beauty. The former doesn't seem to last very long, with his lips tilting up a little, eyes gleaming mischievously while they dance over your frame.

"Apology accepted, love", he has a strong northern British accent, like some of your father's business partners do.

But he is arguably a lot more handsome than any of them are. Dark, combed, and slicked back hair that curls right over his shoulders building a nice contrast to his light blue, short-sleeved silk shirt, unbuttoned down to his belly - exposing golden jewellery. The necklace shines warmly against his pale skin, glimmering purple in the dim lights.

It might be the alcohol and the loneliness but you really, really want to just dart one hand out, run it over his chest and his neck, feeling his warmth and the few locks of chest hair, smelling and tasting the scent of summer on his skin.

You wonder what he does, what his profession is. The 70s porn-stache, vintage Rolex and golden rings scream Miami and you can't help but imagine him in the hot sun, bare chested, blood on his hands - red red red - cutting open bricks of cocaine -

"May I get you a drink, love?", his voice pulls you out of your daydreams and you blink. He must've caught you staring.

You know, that men like him usually mean trouble. And yet, you can hear yourself say: "That'd be very nice, thank you."

He lifts two fingers up, signalling the man behind the bar that he wants to order something and you notice that his knuckles are bruised. Blue and green mixing with the red of the scab, partially healed. There are scars on his forearm, meandering between his tattoos and up up up his arm below the soft, expensive silk of his shirt.

The goosebumps that erupt on your skin are nothing but pleasant as you immediately know what type of man he is. Everyone in here is on the market for something: drugs, love, sex, guns - but rarely does one sell murder. Real, cold-blooded murder. Ruthless, fast, dirty.

He's trying to hide it but watching him as he discusses the menu with the bartender, it sticks out like a sore thumb: the well-mannered gestures crash with his fucked-up hands, the way he's dressed like a drug-selling pimp refuses to fit in with his sugar-coated talk and the way he moves can't hide a lingering anger, like a raging beast pacing in a cage.

It is a carefully put together façade, but it's no use against you. You know men like him and you know them well. They don't scare you - quite the opposite, and thus the pure and utter danger he emits has excitement tingling in your stomach. As fucked up as it is: it makes you want him - adrenaline kicking in, shooting a tingle right between your legs.

He turns around again and you lean forward a little, deciding to make your move soon.

"'S a Mezcal Margarita alright with you, love?", he asks and you throw him your most charming smile, nodding.

"We'll take two then, mate", he nods and slides a few bucks over the counter, watches the bartender pouring liquid into a cocktail tumbler.

"Sooo", the man turns around towards you and grins, shows some teeth as his hand vanishes in the pocket of his linen trousers, pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. He's taking a looong deliberate drag, puffing out the smoke, "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Y/N", you reply, gaze dropping to his lips and back up, where his gaze catches yours. He has beautiful eyes, blue like the fucking sea and the purple neon lights make them glow with mischief and smugness - dark and oddly promising, inviting - framed by long lashes.

One of your fingers brushes over his hand, that is resting on the counter. The wooden surface is sticky with half-dried alcohol. His gaze holds yours while he takes another drag of his cigarette. You just might lose yourself in the hue that dances over his eyes.

"And you are?", you say, just loud enough to be audible over the music.

His gaze drops to your fingers that are brushing over his golden rings and he chuckles: "Don't ya try stealing those, sugar, I know that fuckin' trick", and you smile innocently, as he leans in a little, "Name's Tangerine, love." There are cheers erupting from the dancefloor, the rhythm of the music picking up.

You pout playfully and his eyes dance over your face, glimmering mischievously. "Oh", you sigh, "And here I was, thinking you'd may even give me your real name."

"Can't, love, m'sorry."

"Mh pity -- who did you kill?"

"Who said I killed someone?", he's dangerously close now, voice a low rumble.

"Your hands", your fingers dance over the crust of his knuckles and his eyes gleam. For a moment he says nothing and then, towering over your sitting form, voice low and rough:

"Aren't ya afraid o'me, love?"

"Terribly", and he grins at that, his eyes holding yours captive.

"Bet you are", Tangerine hums, barely audible and sticks his cigarette between his lips, one hand darting up, has his thumb gently grazing over your chin.

The touch is nice, soft and gentle but firm, in full control. It makes your chest tingle, sends a wave of pleasure through your body. His eyes flick over your face and you find yourself growing a little hot under his gaze. You wonder is he's going to lean in, ditch his cigarette and --

The bartender places two glasses in front of you and it makes you snap out of it for a second, noticing how close Tangerine got. His thighs are touching your knees and his face is so so close to yours, noses mere inches apart.

"Thanks, mate", Tangerine says, pulls the glasses closer. You watch him - slender fingers getting a little wet with condensed water, cigarette between his lips, chain and bracelet rustling with the sudden movement. There's a thin film of sweat glistening on his chest and it has your thighs clench with raw and utter want, wanting to put your lips onto the firm the muscles, licking his skin clean.

The way his body still presses against your knees, is electrifying and you decide to invite him in more. You let your knees fall apart, making way for him. His gaze drops down and he chuckles to himself but moves in nonetheless, one of his hands gently coming to a rest on your thigh, holding you close and in place. The touch shoves the soft, flowy silk of your cowl dress aside, the slit in the fabric exposing your thigh. Tangerine's hand is warm on your skin, rings pressing cooly against your hot flesh, as he starts groping you - thumb digging into your thigh and you gasp quietly.

"Been wantin' to ask -- what's a pretty girl like you doin' in a place like this, huh?", he says, cigarette bobbing up and down in the corner of his mouth.

"My friend sells blow here", you say truthfully - not a full lie and yet not the complete truth, but you know better than to trust a stranger with your ties to your family's business - and piqued interest flickers through his gaze.

Tangerine then, very languidly, takes another looong drag from his cigarette and taps some of the ash on the counter, holding your gaze with his own. "D'you sell yourself, love?"

You laugh at that, violently shaking your head. "Hell, no."

He chuckles, eyes roaming over your face. "Well, looks like I got myself a good girl, then eh?", he knows what he is doing, voice low and deep and you swallow.

"I wouldn't say so", you whisper, "But why don't you come a bit closer and find out?"

Tangerine flashes a grin, shows his bright bright teeth, one of his hands coming up and stroking his moustache while he shakes his head in disbelief.

It's stupid. Very fucking stupid. He shouldn't. He should get the fuck out of here - quickly. This is dangerous. She might be, too.

Instead, he looks up again. Ah, fuck it - fuck the rules. Lemon will get it - maybe. Ultimately, he will, simply has to - with the beast inside rattling the cage.

Tangerine leans in, his hand on your thigh sneaking up, making its way over your hip, your side and then cups your body, thumb digging into your flesh underneath your tit. Your heartbeat picks up as he pulls you close and you nearly yelp, scooting forward on the barstool, your hand coming up and grasping his forearm, holding on to him. "Well, why don't we fuckin' drink to that then, love?", he rasps, the hand resting on the bar pulls your glass in.

With a shaking hand you take it, fingers closing in around the cool glass and you watch him raising his, bud of cigarette nearly touching it. He is exhilarating, demanding and firm underneath the attire of a gentleman and it has your head swimming, wetness pooling between your legs. Excitement bubbles up in your chest, wondering where the night may, will lead.

"Cheers, love", Tangerine smirks and winks at you, both your glasses clink. He is still so so close, your knees still hitting his hips and his tongue runs over the edge, licks the salt away slowly, playfully until he downs half the Margarita in one go, like it's water.

You raise one brow, carefully taking a sip. The salt on the edge of the glass tingles on your lips and the liquor burns nicely in your throat as you take another. It's a hellishly strong cocktail and you wonder if he's a regular drinker. A lot of people like him - call them what you like, assassins, killers, hitmen - are.

Tangerine eyes the glass in his hand, weighs it from left to right a little, then nods to himself in approval while you take another sip. He instead downs the other half of the cocktail and puts the glass back on the counter. It's a quick, routinely movement and you come to realize that you may be right. You decide to not give it too much thought, because he's hot and he freed you from the boredom threatening to swallow you whole tonight and because everything about him has your blood singing with the gleeful promise of adrenaline. You put your glass next to his and look up at him through your lashes. He catches the invitation.

Tangerine throws his cigarette into his empty glass and then leans in again. The tip of his nose brushing over yours, the sensual music entangling both of you as his gaze flicks over your face.

You hook one leg around his waist and he moves in closer, pressing yourself against him, one hand on his arm - to anyone looking over you might even seem like an actual couple, enjoying the night out - and hunger burns in his eyes. His lips brush over yours and you know he's toying with you, keen on him leaning in to fucking kiss you already --

The music stops.

There's sudden silence as the band passes a bottle of whiskey around and the two of you freeze, blinking dumbfoundedly. The silence is odd, stalling both of you but you can't help it, feeling like drowning in the dark dark blue of his eyes, shimmering with green in the purple light. You can hear Tangerine breathe quietly with him being so utterly close to you and it's nice, comfortingly human and you can't help but smile against his lips still hovering over yours, a gentle gesture that is being reciprocated by him.

You're a little dizzy with it too, the alcohol, lack of fresh air and his body warmth mixing together, making you a little unsteady. He has pure and raw want tingling in your belly, your hand on his upper arm clenching around the firm muscles a little, thumb brushing over the soft material. And then, just as the music picks up again, his lips brush against yours: "You don't happen to wanna dance, do ya, love?"

"Fuck yes, thought you'd never ask", and Tangerine laughs, a deep, pleasant sound that rumbles in his chest and offers you his hand.

Yours runs down down down his arm and closes around his, while he's making some room for you to slip off of the barstool and then he's pulling you close again - your body pressing smack against his side as he's dragging you along to the makeshift dance floor.

The crowd still cheers, applauds the band and the bandoneon plays the few first chords of a new song. Tangerine gently takes your hand in his, thumb cupping your index and middle finger as your palm rests against his. His other hand sneaks around your waist and rests and the small of your back, holding you close. He looks at you and you feel like drowning in his eyes, pupils blown wide and you wonder when he'll show first signs of being drunk, with the way you already feel a little warm, light-headed. In a few minutes, maybe an hour you'll learn that he holds his liquor way better than you hold your own.

He is even closer to you now than before at the bar and now you can smell his perfume through the thick cloud of smoke that wavers through the basement's air - he smells nice, deep and rich of citrus and a little of vanilla and cigarettes, reminds you of the summer you've spent in Palermo once.

Tangerine gently places one hand below your shoulder and yours comes up, rests on his shoulder, just as he starts to move to the music. He takes a step backwards, guiding your forward and gently guides you through the crowd - a steady back and forth in rhythm with the tango.

Tangerine's hand still holds yours, guides your arm until it is stretched out and then it abandons your hand, runs down down down your arm very gently, pads of his fingers brushing over your soft skin, hairs on your arms rising. A shiver runs down your spine as his fingers cradle back between yours, a smile tugging at his lips.

One of his legs pushes between yours while he manoeuvres you backwards, hand on your waist holding you close. Tangerine presses himself against you, heat radiating off of his body with both your arms still stretched out and you grip his hand tightly, leaning back. You arch your back, raising one leg and hooking it around his waist as his gaze locks with yours. You can feel his crotch pressing against yours, with the way the skirt of your dress hikes up your legs. He is warm and a little hard already, has the breath hitching in your throat and arousal igniting your loins.

Tangerine leans down a little, lips still curled up in smile and then pulls you up like you weigh nothing and you stretch your legs in a delicate, slight split as he twirls you around, your chest firmly resting against his.

His arm presses onto your back, holds you close until your feet touch the ground once more and he immediately guides you sideways with a few long and slow strides until he comes to a halt. One of your arms wraps around his shoulders as he holds you close and you stretch your leg out, your heel gliding forward over the concrete floor of the basement, stretching your leg out in front of you and then gently sliding it backwards into a deep lunge, your body following the movement. You lean back and Tangerine follows, leans down and towers over your body.

He holds you there for a moment, chest rising and falling, brows furrowed a little before he carefully helps you back up - immediately embracing your body once more.

The music speeds up and so does he while guiding you over the dancefloor, face close to yours with unbreaking eye contact as you swirl over the concrete.

At the next strum of the contrabass, you take a step back, arching your back. Very playfully you sway your hips, shoulders loosely following while one of hands rests on his forearm, the other lays in his hand, feet tapping the floor rhythmically with the movement of your hips.

You know that he has a perfect view of your body, your hard nipples being visible through the thin fabric of your dress. His gaze drops down, watches how the silk plays with your curves, eyes growing a little darker. You move in and Tangerine pulls you close, your hand intertwined with his resting on his chest and his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, moustache tingling. "No underwear, I reckon, love?", he hums, the fingers of his other hand brushing over your waist.

And you shake your head, whispering: "No, none", and it has his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, a low chuckle escaping his throat. "Fuck me", he breathes and holds you close while moving over the dancefloor, one hand gently but firmly resting on your ass cheek, hiking the hem of your dress up a little.

The touch ignites you and you press against him, leaning in, nose brushing over his jaw, eyelids fluttering. You are pressed against each other, movements slowing down and blooming into a languid sensuality in dance: long strides, toying with him a little - turning your head away, stretching your arm out, only for his hand to gently caress it - feet wrapping around his calf, leg pushing between his. Tangerine is patient with the little game you are playing, unerringly keeping the lead and you in your place.

You wonder if he fucks like he dances. It makes your skin going hot, imagination running wild and breath hitching.

The song ebbs and the crowd applauds and the two of you come to a halt as well, but not parting, not partaking in the celebration of the band. You are clawing to him, breath going fast and heavy and so does his, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. His hand momentarily rejects your waist to brush through his hair and then returns. His touch is firm, a little rough and you sigh contently.

Some people are looking your way, intrigued by what got over the two of you, enticed by each other and oblivious to the surrounding world. It's a dangerous thing - letting your guard down, for both of you - but you couldn't care less.

Tangerine smirks down at you and licks his lips. "D'ya know what ya do to me, dove?", he says quietly and you know but you feel the same, and thus, your hand brushes over his shoulder to his neck and you nestle your bods against his.

You wonder if he can feel your raising heartbeat, smell the lust and the excitement spreading in your body. You look up at him, fingers burying themselves in his locks.

"Mhm - do you?", you reply just as quietly and Tangerine chuckles, eyes falling shut.

Your bodies stay like that, closely pressing against each other with the music picking back up. You gently rest your forehead on his temple, leaning onto him as he holds you close. You can't help it, you just want to fucking touch him and your hand runs over his shoulder to the front, gently moves up his throat and then cups his jaw, fingers brushing over the clean-shaven skin. It's soft and warm and you can feel, hear him take a deep breath.

Moving across the floor slowly, Tangerine's body turns into an anchor for your long, ardent strides; his strong arms holding you up during each turn, muscles twitching beneath your touch. He is so so close to you, so warm - each one of his steps lingering with desire and it washes over you like a wave, has the hairs on your body standing up.

You sink against him, falling into his embrace, arms clinging around his neck and his hand is pressed on your shoulder, the other remains in the air uselessly as he looks down in surprise, brows furrowed. He can see, feel your chest heaving, a quiet whimper escaping your mouth.

Then, his lips curl into a smug grin.

Tangerine carefully twirls you around, hands gripping your waist and pulling you closer. Your back rests against his chest and you can feel the tip of his nose brushing through your hair as his hands move over your body - one resting on your belly, the other gently cupping you below your breast, feeling the way your heart races against your ribcage, and his touch sends shivers down your spine, has arousal shooting right between your legs. You remain this way for a few beats, the blood in your veins pumping with the rhythm of the music, feeling his strong frame pressing against you - his breath on your temple and his cologne wrapping you in. His body radiates warmth and you can feel his chest rising against your back, his hardening dick pressing against your ass.

Lust tingles in your stomach looking up at him and, at the next strum of the contrabass, you take his hand and twirl out of his embrace. Tangerine follows and pulls you back in and your hand crawls up his arm, another one resting on his neck. His gaze locks with yours as he leans down, tip of his nose brushing against yours.

The hands on your back keeps you close, a dark shadow resting over his eyes, turning them into a deep deep sea. He slowly guides you forward with two long strides and then firmly hooks one arm around you, lunges backward a little and you follow his movement, bending your leg and resting it against his groin. His hard cock presses against your thigh, and he leans in, lips brushing over yours before straightening both of you back up, heels of your shoes connecting firmly with the ground. Tangerine swirls you over the floor and manoeuvres you through the dancing couples, until he eventually, when the space arises, grabs your hips once more. You let yourself fall, upper body leaning back delicately, enthralled by his strength and the way he guides you through the dance, and he pulls you back up.

Your hand runs up his chest, fingers clawing at the silk as your gazes lock once more. You suck in a few breaths, his scent clouding up your mind, hand running higher and higher, thumb cupping his cheek and fingers resting in his hair behind his ear, earring pressing cooly against your skin.

His lips are slightly agape, eyes you up and down, while his hand presses you close. "Yeah, fuck, you wanna take this elsewhere, love?", he rasps and you nod, eyelids fluttering with the hidden promise.

All the while Tangerine navigates you through the crowd, he holds you close, blood pumping in your ears with the way the music makes your chest vibrate, his scent clouding up your mind - only him him him.

As soon as you are out on the street Tangerine is onto you again, pulls you close in the bright lights of the laundrette and kisses you like a starving man. His arms wrap around your waist, pressing you against him, tits flush against his chest, as his tongue licks into your mouth. Your hands run up his arms, one of them curling his neck and the other cupping his jaw. You can feel his hard dick through his linen slacks and it makes you hot all over, wetness pooling between your legs. You break the kiss, heaving against his lips.

"Fuck", Tangerine huffs, hand on your waist wandering down, cupping one of your ass cheeks. You mewl, eyelids fluttering. You're desperate to touch him, for him to fuck you.

"My hotel's nearby", you whisper and it sounds so fucking needy, "We could take the tram?"

"Yeah sure, lead the way", and you do, stealing another long and sloppy, hungry kiss from him and then he's pulling you close, holds you by his side as the two of you rush down the streets of Amsterdam - heels clicking, sweet nothings on the tip of your tongues. Some people turn their heads, voyeurism kicking in at the oddly hot couple with the air around them cracking with their energy, watching how the two of you rush by - the woman giggling and clearly a little drunk, hands roaming all over the man's chest, while he holds her close, thick British accent wrapping her in.

That is, until he stops dead in his tracks next to an alley on a rather empty street.

"Oi, wait a bloody minute, love -- would'ya look at that", Tangerine looks down an alleyway and you lean in closer, trying to get a look at what he's seeing, peaking over his shoulder on the tip of your toes. His hand is still resting on your waist, fingers splayed out.

"What?", there's nothing. Just cars parked beneath a warmly glowing streetlight in a dark alley.

"That", his finger darts out and points at a beige convertible.

"I -- that's a car?"

He looks a you, a little offended.

"That's not just a car, love. That's a 1966 Cadillac Coupe DeVille."

You blink, watching him while he eyes the vehicle, fingers brushing over his stache absent-mindedly.

"What are you thinking 'bout?", and it doesn't even take him a second to reply: "I wanna steal it."

Well, that's a surprise. "You wanna steal the car?"

"Yeah, I got this fuckin' thing -- 's kinda like compulsion, innit?"

You raise your eyebrows and he looks at you, lips curling up in an amused smile that's looks an awful lot like Sugar I can't change it, now can I? and before he can come up with something witty to go along with it, you say: "Yeah fuck, alright. Let's do it."

He laughs, eyes you up and down. "Ya naughty little girl, eh."

You can feel your skin growing hot, hand brushing over his forearm, leaning in a little. His eyes gleam. "Show me what you can do, babe", and he does, wraps one arm around your hips and strolls over to the car, carefully eyeing the alley.

The windows are rolled down and he grins. "That's an easy one, love, watch it", his hand brushes over your hip and the touch has goosebumps erupting on your arms, running down down your back and you nod - fuck yes, you'll watch.

Tangerine leans against the driver side's door and reaches inside through the rolled down window. You don't know what exactly he's doing but you can see the way his muscles work underneath the blue silk, as he grabs the handle and then, suddenly lifts the door a little out of its frame. The lock bursts, and for a second your muscles tense, body anticipating alarms going off and reading to flee.

Nothing happens; no sirens erupting - just the door swinging open lazily.

Apparently; obviously this is not his first time stealing a car. The thought of him just taking what he wants does something funny to your stomach.

You peak inside. It is an old-timer, with one large seating bench in the front, instead of two seats. Tangerine is holding the door open for you.

"After you, Lady", and he fucking winks at you.

Crawling onto the seats you make sure to make a little show out of it. You can feel his gaze roaming over your body as you bend down, until you eventually sit down in the middle of the front row seat. Tangerine sits down next to you and you immediately close the distance between the two of you, pulling one leg up, knee resting firmly on the soft beige leather and pressing against his thigh. The fabric of your dress hikes up, the slit exposing your leg up up up to your groin.

The sight distracts him for second, as you throw a look over your shoulder and out of the rear window, into the night. The alley still lays silent and deserted - but for how much longer? Tangerine watches you tensing up next to him.

"Easy, love, just a minute", he huffs and pulls an envelope out of his pocket, takes out a set of lockpicks.

"Oh, so you just carry that around with you?", you blurt out, blinking.

"Yeah", he says casually, bends down a little, trying to get a good look beneath the steering wheel.

If you were to be more of a thief and less of a drug lord's lazy daughter, you'd be able to identify his choice as a Lishi lockpick.

You watch him as he carefully sticks it into the keyhole of the ignition, slooowly starts to move the tool forward and feeling for the contact of the wafer. Quiet clicking sounds fill the humid air.

You can tell, that Tangerine is showing off a little, trying to impress you with speed and precision. He squints his eyes a little, brows furrowing and eyeing the small lock while carefully turning it clockwise.

It jams.

"Bastard", Tangerine curses underneath, pulls the reader of the lockpick back and carefully feels for the missing contact, tuuurns it --

The engine jolts alive, purrs lowly and the headlights snap on.

"There ya go", he mutters, "Piece 'o piss, eh?"

You snort at his vulgar cockney but you must agree - it did not take him more than two to three minutes, from breaking the lock to starting the engine. It shouldn't, but it does turn you on a little.

Tangerine is slamming the door shut and whips out his phone, handing it over to you. "Type in the address, love, would ya?"

You do and then quickly discard it into the cupholder - you want him and your fingertips tingle with it, wanting to touch him and being touched by him. The female voice - uncanny valley personified - of the google maps assistant pipes up and if you weren't so very fucking intoxicated by him you would laugh.

Instead, a fresh wave of desperate lust takes over you and your hands are onto him again in no time, one crawling up his arm, the other resting on his thigh and feeling his muscles work as he backs the Cadillac up. Tangerine chuckles, throws you a quick look before he is steering the car out of the alley.

You are aching for him to touch you, to be closer to you, hand tugging at his shirt a little while you lean in, nose brushing over the side of his throat.

"Jesus, love", he huffs, "Can't keep ya'self together, can ya?"

And you mewl, shake your head and then your lips are closing in around the exposed crook of his neck. Your tongue laps over the sweaty, hot skin, tasting him - his cologne mixing bitterly with his sweat and you hum, gently sucking at his soft skin.

"Fuckin' hell", Tangerine's right hand abandons the steering wheel, coming to a rest on your exposed thigh brushing over your skin. The tone of his voice has your head swimming, spurring you on, encouraging you. Your eyelids flutter as your tongue comes loose:

"Want me to suck your cock while driving?", you say, looking at him - the tips of your fingers are playfully brushing over his shoulder, silk of his shirt rustling under the feather-light touch.

He snorts, shakes his head a little with disbelief, before looking back at you. It seems to click.

"Bloody hell, you're serious, aren't ya?", and you blush a little. You can see the way his Adam’s apple bops as he swallows, eyes aimlessly darting over the road, considering.

The google maps assistant pipes up again, chirps out the directions and then falls silent again.

"Yeah, no, that's a very lovely idea", he rasps, and then: "C'mon love, get to it."

And you do, mouth watering at the same time your sight drops down to his linen slacks, the fabric wrapping around his muscular thighs nicely and pressing firmly to his crotch, exposing the outlines of his hard dick straining it.

Your hand wanders up his leg - feeling his muscles twitch as he hammers down the gas pedal, racing by the light switching from yellow to green - and then sour fingers close in around his cock. It is large and hot through the fabric and just feeling it has fresh arousal pooling between your legs, making you hum, before rubbing his bulge through his trousers. Tangerine's right hand leaves your thigh and comes to a rest on your neck, thumb rubbing over your warm skin and making way for you, giving you some space and encouraging you further.

It's a nice, somewhat patronizing touch that is pushing all the right buttons, has you quivering with excitement.

You make quick work of his slacks, pulling the zipper down - already bowing down a little, stretching your lower leg out on the seat behind you - until you open the fly up. There's a damp stain on his dark silk boxers and your mouth fucking waters, before you pull the hem down. His cock springs free lazily and your breath hitches.

Tangerine's cock is large, cut and a little curved, resting between neatly trimmed pubic hair - vein at the bottom pulsing and the tip already flushed, precum glistening in the low light of the passing street lamps.

You can't wait to suck it, taste it, feel it inside of you -- you are fucking hungry for it, spit pooling around your tongue and heart beating in your chest. Arching your back while bowing down between his lower body and the steering wheel, you put your lips onto his dick, kissing from the base to the top, his musky scent wrapping you in, clouding your mind. You can hear him hum, a nice and deep sound, and the city rushing by through the rolled down window.

Your tongue flicks over the head of his dick, lapping at the precum, circling it. The way he tastes - salt and musk - has your head swimming a little, wetness pooling between your legs.

It makes your brain go mushy, hazy and one of your hands brushes over his thigh, desperate to being closer tohim, to make it feel good for him, caressing the warm skin beneath your touch before you blink up at him.

"Fuck, you got a nice cock", you nearly moan as your tongue betrays your brain, impatiently opening your mouth and letting him slide in a little, feeling him pressing hard and hot against your tongue.

"Shit", Tangerine laughs roughly, hand grabbing your neck as his dick twitches against your tongue, "D'ya even hear yourself speak, girl? Fuck."

You smile to yourself, a little coy, and you start to move your hand up up up his muscular thigh, palming his balls through the linen and then grabbing the base of his cock, slowly jerking him. Tangerine groans, breathing loudly, the city passing by.

Spit runs down his dick over taking him in deeper, pools between your fingers and you flick your wrist, moving your hand in rhythm with your tongue.

The car comes to a halt at the next red light, as Tangerine hits the brakes carefully. Your eyelids flutter and then your gaze darts up, meets his while you are releasing his dick from your mouth a little.

Tangerine moans deeply as tongue swirling around the thick head of his dick once more, his gaze boring into yours. "Isn't that just a lovely sight", he groans, right hand brushing through your hair, while the left grabs the steering wheel hard.

Tangerine watches you, traffic light long forgotten, how your tongue licks over his cock, your eyes looking up at him through your lashes. "You fuckin' minx -- ya do like behavin' like a slut, don't ya", and you smile against his cock, a quiet Uh-huh leaving your lips, before they close in around the tip of his dick.

His eyelids flutter as you start to suck, bobbing your head a little, tongue rubbing over the tip of his cock. "Fuckin' hell", he puffs his cheeks and throws his head back a little, exhales theatrically. The traffic light switches from yellow to green and you let him sink deeper into your mouth - the engine roars. You are certain he's close to breaking the speed limit, veins bursting with adrenaline and testosterone but you couldn't care less, the musky taste of his cock hazing your mind, lust taking over.

You feel yourself growing wet, cunt aching and you surrender to yourself, complying to your body's wishes, as one of your hands slooowly dips between your legs and underneath the hem of your dress. Your fingers brush up your thighs and over your slick folds, mentally thanking yourself for not putting any underwear on, mostly due to the unbearable heat and your skin-tight dress - but it sure does come in handy now, too. Your index finger flicks over your clit, just as his cock slides deeper into your mouth.

It feels fucking nice, the way Tangerine's dick is hard and heavy and hot on your tongue, his taste and scent engulfing you, the way you rub your clit has lust spreading through your body, moaning around his cock.

And then suddenly, Tangerine hits the breaks, hand hammering down on the horn. One of your hands darts out, barely catching onto the dashboard as you are thrown forward. Blood rushes in your ears, hastily sucking in a few breaths through your nose while you sputter around his cock.

The maps assistant chimes up in that second, reminding the driver that he will need to go right at the next intersection but --

"Ya fuckin' prick, imma fuckin' shoot ya in the fuckin' head ya stupid twat -", Tangerine yells and your head immediately pipes up, abandoning his dick and looking out of the windshield. Tangerine is just speeding up, passing by the car in front of him, angrily looking inside. "Ya dirty fuckin' chav, I got a right fuckin' lady with me 'ere, ya git", he spits and the man slowly turns his head. First, he looks at Tangerine, a cascade of insults flying his way and then he looks at you, smudged mascara and spit on your chin, your lips wet with it. You can see the wheels in his head turning, eyes growing wide as they drop down to one of your hands - the one that is still holding Tangerine's cock - vanishing between his legs. The man blinks and Tangerine flashes him the finger, before speeding by.

"Fuck about -- that fuckin' arsehole, love, could've killed ya drivin' like that", he grumbles, throws him one last look in the mirror, "Seriously, where did that prick get his license, the bloody fuckin' lottery?"

Tangerine's eye twitches and you can see his pulse speeding up, aorta pressing thickly against his neck, pumping. He is like a force of nature and a mental image of him, covered in bruises, blood and sweat flashes before your eyes - chest heaving and knuckles bruised, hair curling and framing his face like a halo, dripping with blood.

"You're so fuckin' hot when you're angry", you mumble and then you're bending down again, tongue licking over his cock, from the base all the way up the top, flicking around its head and then gliiiding back down.

A growl, a real fucking growl, leaves his chest, hand on your neck tightening. "You better get fuckin' back to it, love, Jesus fuckin' Christ", his voice is coarse and it gets you going, makes you wet wet wet and has your head diving back in, tongue lolling out of your mouth as his dick slides back in.

"Atta girl, fuck", he groans and then his hips jolt up, pushing his dick deep into your mouth and you hum around it. You start to bob your head up and down, meeting his thrusts - your hand abandons the dashboard to clutch his thigh, nails digging into the flesh a little.

Tangerine moans at both, your hot and wet mouth sucking him off and the slight pain that blooms in his thigh, dangerously mixing with the anger pulsing in his chest and he throws his head back.

"Just like that, fuckin' hell love", his hips buck, shoving himself deeper into your mouth. The sudden intrusion has you choking a little as he hits the back of your throat, spit gathering around the corners of your mouth while you sputter around his dick - jaw going slack and his hand finding its way into your hair, fisting it as he starts to fuck into your mouth.

Holding your head in place his cock hits the back of your throat, steals your breath. Your nose is buried in his pubes, inhaling his scent - sweat and musk - more saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth, wetting his locks. You relax your throat and whimper around his dick, the way he uses you has fresh wetness spreading between your folds, squelching sounds filling the air as your finger is joined by a second, rubbing tight circles over your clit.

You moan around his cock, strangled noises escaping your throat while your rock back against your fingers, choking around the head of his cock hitting your throat.

"Shh, shh shh", he tuts, a little breathless, "Daddy's got ya, mh pretty girl? Lemme just--"

Tangerine's right hand lets go off your hair and then you can feel it sneak past your back, a feather-light touch brushing over the silk of your dress. It travels further and then grabs your ass, the sudden rough touch has you moaning around his dick once more. Your eyelids flutter as he pulls the fabric up up up, fists it and exposes you to whoever or whatever may rush past the passenger side's window. Your fingers speed up at the thought while his hand kneads the flesh of your cheeks.

"Fuckin' pretty", he hums, taking another quick look at the way your head bobs up and down his cock, "All over my cock like that, pretty fuckin' slut."

His hand wanders further down and before you can process it, one of his fingers circles your hole, feeling your slick and your plump folds. "Jesus Christ", he nearly groans, "You just love sucking cock, don't ya?"

That you do, whining around his base as the thick head of his dick hits the back of your throat again, with your fingers still working your clit. "Let me help you with that, love", and with that he pushes one finger in, up to his golden onyx ring, nestles it snugly between your hot walls. They clench around him and the sensation - the lingering promise of more - has you squirming a little.

Tangerine gives you what you want, need - finger curling a little, digits brushing over your spongy hot walls, before he slooowly pulls it back out. It circles your hole once more, quickly joined by a second, before he pushes them in again, starting to fuck you fast.

You moan, feet kicking a little and eyes tearing up at the sensation, with his dick pushing further into your throat and your fingers rubbing your clit, quickly has your muscles clench and cunt squirting.

"Yeah, just right 'ere, love, huh? Gettin'ya all loose 'n wet f'me? Such a good girl, aren't ya?", obscene sounds fill the air as he fucks your slick back into you, bottoms his fingers out, rubbing over the spot that has you seeing stars.

Tangerine moans deep in his chest as his cock starts to fuck into your mouth again and you let him use your throat gladly while his fingers pump in and out of your cunt, accompanied by the way your fingers flick over your clit rapidly.

The lack of fresh oxygen has you bucking against his hand, choking and sputtering around his cock that rams deeply in your throat but your stomach still flutters with it, lust igniting your loins and limbs tingling with it.

You can feel the muscles in your abdomen clenching, heart racing in your chest. Your fucking close and he seems to notice, too, his moans barely reaching your ears through the blood pumping and engine roaring. Tangerine nestles his fingers deep deep inside of you, rubbing over your walls and the spot that has you seeing stars, eyes falling shut and moaning against his cock.

It is all too much and your chest heaves as you finally cum, muscles clenching around his fingers, hips stuttering. His dick pulls back a little, tip resting hot and heavy against your tongue and then, his movements still.

"Open up your pretty mouth, doll, lemme see", he rasps, barely keeps an eye out to the street and you comply, fucked out mind making everything a little hazy, a little slow. Your jaw goes slack as you open your mouth, giving him a perfect view of his dick resting on your tongue.

Tangerine looks at you: mascara pooling beneath your eyes, lips swollen and red and jaw wet with spit and then comes too, shoots ropes of hot cum into your mouth. He watches the way it paints your tongue white, some of it landing on your upper lip, slooowly dripping down, running over your chin.

You swallow and then your tongue darts out, licks over your lips and then darts out, licks his cock clean, too.

Slowly, with your mind still foggy and limbs a little heavy already, you get back up. Your fingers brush through his remaining cum on your chin, wiping it away and letting them slip into your mouth, licking them clean. "Jesus, love", Tangerine's voice is a little coarse, gaze darting back and forth between your mouth and the street, as he carefully pulls his fingers out of you and your body closer instead.

You yelp, pressing yourself onto him, of your knees resting between his spread legs. None of you fucking care anymore, lust tugging at your brains dangerously, daringly. His hand, fingers still wet with your juices, brushes over your waist, grabs your ass and you lean in, lick over his throat, tasting his sweat and cologne.

"Can't wait for you to fuck me", you rasp, hands brushing over his chest, his necklace jingling, down down down, hand brushing over his cock and carefully putting it away, his clothing back in place.

Tangerine huffs, google assistant chiming out a direction, indicator clicking loudly as he sets it and then his hand comes up quickly, grabs your chin hard and holds your head in place. You look at him, deer in the headlights, holding your breath and then he's pulling you close, locks his lips with yours. He can taste himself on your tongue licking into your mouth, pulls you close.

You don't know how you made it to the fucking hotel alive, with Tangerine's hands roaming over your body, lips locking occasionally while he was speeding down the streets, cutting corners and red lights.

The two of you barely make it through the lobby and into the elevator, until Tangerine is onto you once more, presses your back flat against the cold, bronze metal. "I'll fuck ya so good, love", his dick is already hard again, pressing against you through the linen of his trousers and the satin of your dress, "'S gon' be all you'll be thinkin'bout for the next weeks." In a little more than an hour you will come to realize that he is right. You will be thinking about it for weeks. But now, there are only his lips roaming over your throat, occupying your mind and letting you drift back to a hazy, lustful state, with his hands feeling up your hips, your waist.

Eventually, the elevator piiings lazily and the two of you rush out it, like you are on the run from your own lust, hand clutching his as you quickly make your way down the hall to your suite. You unlock the door and turn the dimmed lights on inside. The room's just like you left it, guns and cash on the coffee table, soft light coming from the bedroom on the left. The window there is still opened, a soft breeze rolling in through the light curtains.

Tangerine throws the door shut behind himself and immediately grabs you by your waist, pulls you onto him, hand on your back on your ass as he leans down, devours you with a kiss. His tongue pushes into your mouth while he manoeuvres you backwards through your suite. Your hands dart out, catching the doorframe of the bedroom and you grab it hard, using it as leverage as you push back against him, your crotch rubbing against his. Tangerine grins against your lips and grabs your hips hard, makes you moan into the kiss.

He breaks it, chest heaving a little. "Fuck, love, imma ruin ya." Your breath hitches at that and your hands let go of the doorframe, wrapping around his neck instead like you're on some sort of fucking autopilot. "Yeah fuck, please", you whisper.

It takes Tangerine a moment, gaze growing a little soft before the beast takes over again, a gleaming dark hue turning the blue into an endless ocean and he hoists you up, carries you over to the bed.

He is carrying you like a caveman would his bagged prey and he tears at your dress just the same, one hand shoving the straps down your shoulders. Then he's onto the zipper, sliiides it down and throws you onto the bed.

You land onto the duvet with a soft thud, tits bouncing a little and his gaze follows the movement hungrily, before he tugs at the hem of your dress, pulls it down and throws it to the ground carelessly.

Tangerine just watches, gaze hungrily moving over your naked form, slooowly starts to undress himself. His slender fingers unbutton the silky shirt, button by button in an agonizingly slow speed. You know he's deliberately taking his time with you and it works, has your body quivering with anticipation and lust, one of your own hands running up your body, cupping your tit. He lifts a brow as he watches you tweaking your nipple and the haughty disdain has your head swimming, legs falling apart. "Please", you whisper, pussy aching for his touch, "--Need you."

The silk falls open, still hugging his shoulder and Tangerine continues watching you, playing with a ring on his finger, just like he's playing with you. It's cruel but it has lust building up in your belly, shooting arousal down between your legs and making fresh wetness pool between your folds in a way that you just know, that his touch will be heavenly.

And yet, impatience taking over, you mewl and in a desperate attempt for any sort of attention - for him to just fucking touch you again - you scramble to your knees, stretching out on the mattress and pressing your body flat onto it, ass high in the air. You know that he'll see it: your wet cunt, glistening in the dim light, hole clenching desperately around nothing. You feel exposed and at his mercy alone, and the degradation and danger of being unarmed like this in the presence of a killer, has your heart racing, thighs rubbing together for any sort of fucking friction.

Tangerine bellows out a laugh, surprised and dark, can't really hide either how turned on he is, and then his hand comes down on your ass. The sound bounces off the walls and has your bods jolting forward, first a gasp and then a moan falling from your lips, hands fisting the sheets. "Ya dirty fuckin' whore", he groans, hand groping your already reddening flesh. You can hear the silk flowing down to the ground and then he is pressing his crotch against you, fine linen against your wet cunt.

It's electrifying, the rather rough material pressing against your soft skin, your slick immediately wetting the fabric as your start to roll your hips against it, rutting over his clothed dick. Tangerine's cock is so so hard, hotly pulsing through the linen and you can feel its curve pressing against your pussy. You whimper, hips stuttering.

"Jesus Christ, love, can feel ya through my fucking pants -- lemme see", Tangerine groans and then grabs your hips hard, stalling your desperate movement, shoving them forward a little. You can feel his gaze dancing over your cunt, hear him whistle lowly, hands spreading your ass cheeks, assessing your slick. One of them comes loose and then --

He gives your cunt a light slap - the slight pain and degradation making your head swim - has you squirming on the mattress, a whiny Daddy, please escaping your lips. Your mind fogs up, all hazy with lust and his perfume, aching your back for him, pressing your chest flat against the sheets.

Tangerine pouts at you, eyes gleaming playfully. "D'you wan'it that bad, love?", and you nod nod nod, wiggling your hips as you chant - a desperate Yes yes yes escaping your lips, muffled by the mattress - hands uselessly darting out for any leverage.

His middle finger runs through your folds and you tremble, goosebumps erupting on your arms, spreading all over your body. He spreads your slick and his other hand comes up, kneads the flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks further apart. "Always fuckin' wet f'me, innit? Picture perfect cunt ya got, love."

You mewl, throwing a glance over your shoulder to see him watching your hole clench around nothing. His eyes gleam. "Shit", you huff out as his finger brushes over your clit, feet curling a little and he grins smugly - Bastard - and gives your ass another sharp slap. You groan and then his hands are off you, making work of his trousers.

You watch him get fully undressed and your mouth waters at the sight. Tangerine's body is covered in scars, smaller round ones from bullets and larger, longer ones from knives and nasty fist fights and you want to crawl to him on your knees, kiss and lick them, worship them and him - his body, his tool of death - like he's your very personal reincarnation of Ares.

His dick springs free as he drops his boxers, completely exposing his muscular body to you, dusted on body hair and tattoos and scars scars scars and in the moment, that you can see precum glistening on the tip of his cock, you realize that you had already missed it. You fucking missed his dick. The thought has warmth spreading on your cheeks.

There's a light pat on your hip. "C'mon love, turn around. Wanna see your face while I fuck you nice and proper", he hums and your eyelids flutter, humming deeply in your throat at the proposition, turning around and laying on your back.

The mattress dips as he sinks down on his knees, chest flushed a little - the golden necklace dangling between your bodies - and then he's onto you, crawls over your body like an animal, leaves sloppy kisses on your skin, tongue licking over your nipples, stache tickling.

"Oh fuck", you huff, hands darting out and finding his hair, gently tugging at it. Tangerine's lips move over your throat and he sucks, makingyou gasp, throwing your head back as he marks you up.

"Spread ya legs f'me, sweetie", he rasps against your jaw and you do, knees falling apart. He grabs his dick with one hand, the other one supporting his own weight next to your head, rubs himself along your folds, using your slick as lube. "There ya fuckin' go", he huffs and then the thick head of his cock presses against your hole.

"Fuck, yes", you whimper, hot with anticipation, one hand leaving his hair and clutching around his shoulder. And then, he finally - fucking finally - puuushes in, your hole stretching around his girth a little, dull pain spreading excitement across your body.

Tangerine groans. It's a low and honest sound, has his chest vibrating against yours while he looks down to where your bodies meet. "Shit, fuckin' hell", he says, hand abandoning his dick as he slowly slides into you, fills you up and spreads your walls, grabbing your inner thigh instead. The way he spreads your legs is delicious and you hum, his dick is completely seated inside of you.

He lifts his gaze once more, looks at you. His eyes are dark, a stormy stormy sea, a few loose strands falling into his face, curls of his hair freeing themselves from the hair gel. He looks like a fucking god. "Fuck", you say, lowly, hole fluttering around him, stomach tingling at the sight.

"Ya cunt's so fuckin' tight, love", he growls and you can hear, feel it on your skin, that he is having a hard time holding back, "'S perfect, Jesus Christ."

Tangerine rolls his hips, once, twice and you moan, fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulder. "'S good for ya, too, love?", his nose brushes over yours, lips ghosting over your cheek. "Yeah, fuck", you huff, and then he's onto you, licks over your lips with his tongue and shoves it into your mouth, invites himself in. You lick over it, lips locking with his, stealing the air from both of your lungs. It is a sloppy kiss charged with energy and lust, your hands tugging at his curls, making the thrusts of his dick more feral, as he forces himself in deeper, groaning into your mouth. In return you moan, chest heaving against his, tits rubbing over the muscular skin.

His lips brush over the corner of your mouth, breathes against it, stache tingling a little as they move down to your throat, kissing and nibbling at the skin, marking you up.

"Fuck", you gasp at the stinging sensation, pulling his hair and he groans.

It feels nice; the way he is fucking you - you push away the thought that it's dangerously close to actually making love - the way he feels inside of you, how his body feels against yours, but it's also not enough. You need more.

A whine escapes your mouth, all desperate and needy and breathless and his movements still for a second.

Then, Tangerine looks up at you, dark blue eyes meeting yours. "Tell me what you want", he whispers, hand groping your thigh and dick buried deep deep inside of you. You can feel it twitch inside of you and your breath hitches. "Want -- want you to fuck me", you say quietly, "Like - hard."

"Aint' ya just a fuckin' dream, poppet", he growls and then his lips are unto you once more, licking into your mouth, teeth catching your lower lip; licking and kissing your lips until their sore while picking up a faster rhythm, pounding into you.

Tangerine eventually breaks away from you, leaves you panting and straightens up until he's kneeling between your legs - rolls his hips into you with his dick fucking in and out your hole, accompanied by an obscene squelching sound. One of his hands grabs your thigh hard, rings digging into the flesh, and then he's hoisting it up, resting your ankle on his shoulder and you moan at both: how deep his cock now pushes into you and the way Tangerine looks.

A thin layer of sweat covers his cheeks and his upper body, chest and cheeks flushed, a few strands of hair falling into his face as his brows are furrowed, lips slightly parted. You can hear him breathe heavily, occasionally moaning when your walls clench around his cock, squeezing him. He looks like a fucking porn star, with his defined muscles working beneath the skin and the golden jewellery, a soft summer breeze rolling in through the opened window, toying with his hair. Tangerine's gaze is glued to his dick that rhythmically pumps in and out of you, watches the way your juices squelch around the base of his cock, balls slapping against your wet skin.

His free hand runs up your belly and cups one of your tits, squeezes it, rolls the nipple between his fingers - the bracelet around his wrist jingles and the rings are cold against your skin. You hum deeply, breath ragged and fingers clawing at the sheets desperate for any leverage, while his deep thrusts throw you back and forth like a fucking ragdoll, tits bouncing and gasps falling from your lips.

Your mouth falls agape, watching Tangerine through hooded eyes and dark lashes and his gaze crawls up up up your body until it meets yours. It is accompanied by his hand, ditching your tit, and brushing up your neck, cupping your jaw and then falling in the crook beneath it, pressing down. The sudden lack of air has the muscles in your legs tensing and he feels it, too, mischief illuminating his face, his eyes, as you gasp for air. You know he could kill you then and there, watch you as your lights fade out and as fucked up as it is, it has your rutting your hips against him, spurring him on.

Tangerine furrows his brows and picks up a quicker rhythm, hand closing in tighter around your throat, rings pressing down onto your windpipe, and you lay your head back, feeling the stretch as he's choking you. The lack of fresh oxygen has your chest heaving, body surrendering to him and the way his cock pumps into your hole fast and deep, lust igniting your nerves. Tangerine can feel you clenching around his dick, wetting his trimmed pubic hair as you squirt, slick dripping down his balls and staining the sheets below. The beast inside him roars, thrums against the bars of its cage, his ribs and he sees your eyelids fluttering, cheeks prettily reddened.

"Atta girl", he groans, fingers giving in a little and you suck in a few deep breaths, before he presses them back down again. It's too soon and your hands dart up, clutching in around his wrist, bracelet jostling and clinking under your touch.

The cage breaks.

Suddenly, quickly, with the force and speed of a predatory animal, Tangerine lets go off your throat and flicks his wrist, catches both of yours in an iron grip and pins them above your head, down onto the mattress. His body follows the stretch of yours, bending over you, holding his own weight up with a hand that crashes down next to your chest. He is feral and it should scare you, especially as air floods your system again, lifts your mind out of your foggy state just a little, but it just doesn't no fight or flight kicking in. The way Tangerine hovers over you now has your leg on his shoulder bend, too, allowing his dick to fuck into you deeper, delicate pain from the stretch of your back igniting your loins.

Ragged breaths escape his throat while he pounds, ruts into you and you lose yourself in both, the sound of his utter pleasure and the way your body feels: on fire, chest tight with your approaching orgasm and raw lust, pure want, that chews up the ends of your nerves, has your limbs tingling.

Tangerine's hand keeps your wrists in that iron grip of his as he rolls his hips into you, dick hitting your cervix, his fingers digging into the flesh of your wrists. You throw your head back, gasping with each of his thrusts and his eyes follow your movement hungrily, groans as your eyes roll back. There's a strong pull in your abdomen and your hole flutters around his cock, his balls slap against your wet skin.

"Fuck fuck fuck", you whine, high pitched moans falling from your hips as he ruts into you, "I'm gonna cum, oh shit --"

Tangerine's eyes fall shut, a throaty moan erupting deep from his chest when your muscles tighten around him. "Yeah, shit love -- that's it, fuckin' cum f'me", he rasps, forehead coming down to a rest on your shoulder.

And you do after a few more of his deep thrusts, whining and legs kicking a little, shakes erupting in your chest as you press against him. Everything goes white as you ride your orgasm out on his dick, moaning and gasping as he does, too, shoots thick and hot ropes of cum into you, painting your walls and pulsing deep inside of you.

Tangerine moans, coarse and raw and his chest heaves, presses his nose into the crook of your neck - but you barely notice it, too far gone, mouth agape and legs shaking.

It takes you a while to come down again, eyelids fluttering open lazily. There's a hand on your cheek, a deep hum near your ear. "Welcome back, love", Tangerine says quietly and then, "Ya did so good for me, eh?" You mewl, stretching your legs a little. Your whole body feels sore, his cum leaking out of you and into the sheets. All you want to so is to get up and clean yourself up, but your legs are so so heavy and you just feel so so tired. Tangerine seems to notice, too.

"You stay here, darlin', imma get you something to clean you up", Tangerine says, voice coarse but soft and he gets up, just as a fresh breeze rolls in through the curtains, blows them up and sends them flying a little. The forecast prognosed heavy rainfall for next week. The air already smells like it a little - damp and mushy.

The breeze cools your sweaty skin, has you sighing with content while you watch Tangerine's naked form as he is walking to your bathroom, muscles in his legs and butt working nicely with each step.

***

It has been over a week and this is his third night. It starts to feel like a fucking stake out.

He feels incredibly silly. Silly for coming here again. Silly for lying to Lemon - again. Silly for ordering two Margaritas. Silly for drinking both.

Tangerine leans against the bar, elbows planted firmly on the sticky wood, smoking a cigarette. The band, same musicians, play a soft and melancholic tango. The air had cooled down a little after yesterday’s rain and maybe, just maybe, that'll be the summer's first soft goodbye before it will go down in a last great huzzah with a hot Indian summer before autumn takes over the city.

He wonders if he will still be in Amsterdam by then, if he and Lemon will watch the leaves fall. There is an offer for a job in Japan and he is considering to take it. He'll have to talk to Lemon about it.

"Anything else for you, Sir?", the bartender asks. And Tangerine nods, orders another Margarita. The bartender takes the empty glasses away and he stares at the wood. Oh, he's just so bloody fucking silly, isn't he?

He takes another drag from his cigarette, shifts his weight from one foot to another and rubs his eyes. She won't come. He knows.

She just won't. Tangerine did have a suspicion who she was, has heard stories about her father and he knew, as soon as he had laid eyes on her, that he was in big, big trouble. He wonders if he had already taken her away, wanting better for his daughter than a no-good ordinary killer. Did not want the danger in his life that came with a man, who potentially could be holding his daughter for ransom at some point or worse, could get her killed.

He gets it, though. He would probably do just the same.

"There you go, Sir", the bartender says and Tangerine just nods, suddenly feels very very exhausted and just barely notices that something, someone is moving next to him.

"Can you still afford to buy me one, too?", a familiar voice says, "Or did you burn it all on car insurance?" He chuckles, feels a sudden burst of energy surging through his veins, straightens back up and slowly turns around to her.

"Wasn't my fault, 'prick was driving like a fuckin' loony."

She chuckles and the noise makes his head swim, a strange fluttering feeling in his stomach. He wants to tear his chest open and claw at it, rip it out. That is how much it fucking scares him. How much she scares him.

"Wasn't sure if you were coming back", she says, casually, calmly like she thought about it so much she's just used to it by now.

"I'm not leavin' that soon, love", he says, signals the bartender that another Margarita is in order.

"Where you going?"

"Tokyo, love. Probably -- most likely."

"Come back in one piece then", her smile is genuine. And he knows, that he just has to now.

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine smut #tangerine x y/n #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x you #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine imagine #my writing #smut #bullet train #bullet train 2022 #aaron taylor johnson

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pinklemonslices · 20 days

Text

wrote a little hurt/comfort thing because of the cancellation and the fact that i won’t see my glorious queen niko ever again, ft. a very sad edwin & established payneland :’)

—

“I miss Niko,” Edwin says one day, barely louder than a whisper, when there are no cases to be solved and the rain pouring outside the office is particularly heavy. And, it’s one thing to think it — god knows he’s always thinking it — but saying it aloud is another thing entirely.

There is a feeling of grief that hangs over him like the rain clouds outside, that never really leaves, always eating away at his soul like the awful, hungry thing it is. Sometimes he worries that, eventually, there won’t be anything left for it to eat, and he will simply cease to exist.

The grief is always there, but today, it’s worse than usual. It’s unbearable.

If Edwin needed air, he would be short of it. His chair is the most uncomfortable thing in the world, at the moment, as his hands clench into fists around the fabric of his trousers repeatedly. His mind focuses solely on the grief, in a way he rarely ever allows.

“I know,” Charles tells him finally, and “I do too,” is communicated just as clearly. Charles gets up from his spot on their sofa — that really is too low to the ground for either of them — and makes his way over to the desk.

For a moment, Edwin thinks he is going to perch on the edge of it, as he usually does, but instead he steps closer, leans down, peppers gentle, sorry kisses on the top of Edwin’s head. Edwin takes ahold of Charles’s burgundy polo shirt, and clings to it like a lifeline. But that’s what it is, isn’t it? Charles is the only thing keeping him from falling completely apart.

Charles wraps strong arms around Edwin, pulling him into an embrace, so tight it feels like he’s trying to somehow crush Edwin’s pain, and that’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

Edwin has never been one to cry, not outside of Hell, at least, but Hell was something entirely different. Now though, his tears spill over as if he had just been torn to shreds again, as if he were still stuck in the worst place, with the worst people, as if he were still being tortured, as if crying was something he did regularly.

Niko would have tried to cheer him — them — up, if she were here, but if she were, well they would not be sad at all. Edwin wishes sorely that he did not have to be sad.

It is unfair, is what it is. It is unfair that Niko is dead. Someone as kind, and caring, and charming as Niko did not deserve to die, to be killed.

It is unfair that Edwin was given a friend, only for her to be ripped away from him. Only for him to have to watch it happen.

Edwin holds onto Charles a little tighter.

He doesn’t keep track of how long they stay like that, but at some point Charles starts crying too, and at another, the both of them manage to stop. Sometime after that, Edwin is able to let go of Charles’s shirt, and Charles pulls away enough to see Edwin’s face. He is sure it isn’t a pretty sight to behold.

And yet Charles smiles a sad sort of smile, and presses a kiss to Edwin’s lips. Edwin’s stomach swoops and his still heart flutters, the way it always does when they kiss. He does not think he will ever get used to it, but he is alright with that.

Niko would have cheered. She would have grinned so wide, and lamented about her inability to take a picture of them. Edwin’s eyes sting, but the tears don’t return.

“She would have loved this — us,” He says, when they eventually break apart. The sound of his voice is like nails on a chalkboard. “She would have been so happy. I told her of my confession in Hell, you know. I wish I could have told her of this. I wish she could see us now.” I wish I could see her now.

Charles kisses his nose. “I bet she can, love. Bet she’s smiling.”

Edwin opens his mouth to say something, once, twice, too many times, to no success. Instead, he offers a small nod.

He recalls something he told her on the roof of the Tongue & Tail, the day everything happened. The day he lost her. “No one is ever gone,” He had said. Maybe she is looking down on them. Maybe she really is smiling.

It is a proper nice thought, but it doesn’t fix the part of him that longs to see her again. It doesn’t fix the part of him that longs to watch Scooby Doo with her, and solve the cases before the characters manage to. It doesn’t fix his longing to hear her voice again, to hug her again, to be with her again.

He kisses Charles once more, and misses Niko still.

#sillygirlwriting #honestly really nervous to post this #i don’t know if i like it #please be nice but tell me what u think 😣#fanfiction #i’ve never posted writing on here like this woagh #dead boy detectives #dbda #payneland #edwin payne #charles rowland #niko sasaki

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nanawritesit · 2 years

Text

Obey Me! Characters As Types of Couples You’d Be

A/N: No one requested this 🙃 But I couldn’t stop thinking about it while I was working at the coffee shop all day so here you go :)

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, and Solomon

—————

Lucifer: The Old Married Couple

You two are the extremely established couple. Anyone who knows of your existence knows you’ve been together FOREVER

You have a perfect morning routine together that involves helping each other get dressed and cooking breakfast, and you guys get out the door on time every morning.

Everyone laughs at you for your duality. One minute you’ll be intensely arguing over who has to do the dishes, and the next you’re cuddling up to one another and kissing

You guys get on each other’s nerves a LOT

But you’ll always be each other’s rocks. At the end of the day, coming home and seeing him gives you so much comfort.

You can’t keep any secrets from each other, and why would you want to anyway? There’s nothing about you that he wouldn’t love

You’ll support each other through anything, and no matter what life throws at you, you always make it work ❤️

Mammon: The “Ride or Die” Couple

You’re the “most likely to survive a zombie apocalypse” pair.

Like if any of your friends could bring a couple to a back alley fight, they’d pick you.

You’re practically inseparable. Every time someone sees one of you, the other is soon seen tagging along behind them.

“Partners in crime” is your nickname from the brothers 💀

You always go on missions together, fiercely protecting one another against your enemies. You’d take a bullet for him any day and he’d do the same for you!

And it’s not just in physical fights either. If anyone ever dares to talk shit about you in front of him, he will tear them to shreds. Similarly, all the brothers know not to tease Mammon too much around you.

Leviathan: The Anti-Social Couple

People won’t see or hear from you for DAYS.

In fact if it weren’t for your couple twitch streams, they might assume you were dead 😀

Your friends know that if you aren’t given at least two weeks prior notice, you won’t be showing up to an event.

And early mornings? Yeah forget it. You two won’t untangle yourselves from each others’ arms until at least noon.

Which leads to a lot of late night anime marathons or gaming sessions! Dinners consist of ramune sodas and cup noodles, followed by a dessert of snack cakes.

You’ll go back and forth between hyperfixating on the same franchise, and not speaking to each other while on your own separate devices. Each cycle lasts about three hours.

Satan: The Smart Couple

You two are constantly fighting for the top spots in your classes.

To the innocent stranger, you could be mistaken as enemies. You engaged in heated debates, and often had different points of view.

But during study hall, people would find you curled up on a couch in the library with you in his lap as you both read your books.

On the rare occasion that you agreed on something, you were an unstoppable team against the opposing side. You’d eat them alive and leave zero crumbs.

Despite the debating, you guys are always proud of each other. He cheers the loudest when you’re awarded top exchange student at an assembly, and you’re practically his campaign manager when he runs for class representative.

Cute study dates where you wind up collapsed on top of him on the floor, books and coffee cups strewn everywhere <3

Lucifer comes in and covers you both with a blanket 🥺😭

Asmodeus: The Aesthetic Couple

You’re each others’ official photographers. If someone looked through your phones, they’d be full of well shot pictures of the two of you both together and solo.

You guys at the mall, you eating ice cream, him at the book store, you guys at the coffee shop…

And of course each photo shoot goes straight to devil gram. You’re practically an influencer couple, and everyone ships you so hard.

You guys took some spicy pics in lingerie together and they went VIRAL 🔥

Every time you go literally anywhere, random strangers will come up to you and tell you you’re the most beautiful couple they’ve ever seen

Most people didn’t know which one of you they were more jealous of, sometimes leading to them beginning to question their sexuality 💀

You have the same sense of style and always have the coolest outfits. At every event, you always look the best, and everyone is constantly raving about it afterwards.

Stealing each other’s clothes, shoes, jewelry, makeup, and bags is completely normal. What’s Asmo’s is yours and what’s yours is Asmo’s 🥰

Beelzebub: The Cuddly Couple

Also known as the “PDA couple.”

You guys HAVE to be touching in some way at all times! Whether it’s linking pinkies, his hand in your back pocket, your arm around his waist… if you’re in the same room, you’re practically attached at the hip.

You can never seem to be close enough to him when cuddling. Even if your noses are touching, he’s gripping onto you tightly and telling you to get closer.

You guys love feeding each other, much to the annoyance of the brothers

You sitting on his lap is his favorite form of non-sexual intimacy. He just loves how small you are compared to him, straddling his lap like a koala with your little legs dangling off the chair. He’ll play with your hair and tuck your head into the crook of his neck, smiling down at you affectionately.

Leaving the house without giving each other a kiss is practically sacrilege 😌

You have sickeningly cute food-themed nicknames for each other. Cupcake, honey bunch, sweetie pie, love muffin, cookie…

Belphegor: The Rebellious Couple

You two are always either plotting or executing some sort of diabolical scheme.

You plan the best pranks, and they get talked about for years afterwards. No one else could ever top them

As a result, a lot of your dates happen when you’re both grounded to the attic as punishment.

It was honestly stupid of Lucifer to consider a night trapped in the same dark room full of nothing but cozy blankets as a punishment. You didn’t need anything to entertain you when you had each other.

You’d make the world’s coolest blanket fort and hold each other close in it all night, foreheads pressed together as you talked for hours between kisses

You two never get in trouble without the other though, because that would mean you get punished separately :(

Feeding off of each others’ chaotic energy in class and annoying the teacher until you both get sent off to detention

Running away from Lucifer together, laughing and holding hands as he chases after you

Diavolo: The Power Couple

The two of you together are truly fit for royalty. All his subjects agreed that you were the rightful rulers of the Devildom.

You were a symbol of peace and love, making everyone feel safe and cared for

You always attended charity events together, making speeches and bonding with demons who needed help

You two throw the BEST parties. Your ballroom outfits are the envy of all, and everyone can’t help but swoon at the sight of you dancing the night away 🥰

You guys do interviews together, smiling at each other as you discuss your relationship with the public

Shielding each other from paparazzi, nonchalantly striding past them holding hands

“MC and Diavolo” becomes the new standard by which all other iconic couples are held.

Your fairytale wedding was the most watched program in the history of the Devildom ❤️

Barbatos: The Dependable Couple

If anyone has a job that needs to be done right, they’ll come to the two of you first.

The two of you just take care of everyone so well in addition to running the Demon Lord’s Castle.

You often tag-teamed as the brothers’ therapists. Barb would comfort Mammon while making dinner, and you would give Satan advice while doing the dishes, then you would both take a trip to Purgatory Hall to help Simeon and Solomon with a spell

Time-traveling together ❤️

You guys don’t get a lot of privacy and have been caught getting intimate by Diavolo a few times 💀 He’s also innocently interrupted your dates, not realizing how big of a third wheel he was being.

You started planning how to find the young lord a partner of his own so he’d leave you alone. And you figured you might as well get the brothers into relationships as well while you were at it.

Simeon: The Romantic Couple

Everyone thought you were the perfect couple, and they honestly weren’t that far from the truth.

You guys dominated practically every love language: writing each other poems, having regular date nights, making passionate love, helping each other with chores and school, buying each other cute little gifts…

You take spontaneous trips to the celestial realm and everyone there freaks out upon your arrival 🥺

Romantic picnic dates in the flower gardens by a pond, with champagne and chocolate covered strawberries… putting flowers in each other’s hair and lying next to each other in the grass ☺️

Every once in a while, if the weather was hot, he’d convince you to come for a swim with him in the pond. Your clothes would be left on the bank as you laughed and splashed at each other, floating out to the middle and holding onto each other, foreheads pressed together with your hair dripping wet

He actually wrote a new romance novel inspired by you, and it becomes one of history’s most beloved love stories ❤️

Solomon: The Mysterious Couple

No one ever seemed to know what you guys were up to. You were extremely private about your relationship.

You guys walked everywhere together, but hardly ever engaged in PDA. You never felt the need to, because what went on behind closed doors was enough for both of you.

You were the closest thing this world had to soulmates, being so connected to each other’s hearts… the kind of love that transcends thousands of years

Working on your magic together, going on missions and adventures to acquire mystic elements and uncover ancient secrets ✨

Everyone knows when you two are close because they can smell a strong aroma of herbs and smoke

People aren’t 100% sure whether or not they can trust you… you’re both so charismatic and charming, but at the same time there’s this suspicious air of mischief that you both seem to feed off of

You guys really don’t even care what others think of you… the only thing you care about in life is loving each other for all eternity

#obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanons #obey me requests #obey me reader insert #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me writing #lucifer imagine #mammon x reader #leviathan x mc #satan x mc #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader #diavolo imagine #barbatos imagines #simeon imagines #solomon x reader

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shattersstar · 2 years

Text

bound

pairing: vampire x reader

summary: He supposed this was his true home, not the house he had kept himself locked in, but the wooden box with your picture in it. Dutifully kept under his pillow, bringing you to the land of dreams with him—if he could dream. It was a bitter punishment for the life he lived, the transgression—sin—he supposed would be held against the two of you. For how he wanted you more than anything, how he would tear whole cities to shreds at your behest and let the hunters who lurked in your town meet his fangs if you so desired. It was gluttony, to take eternal life and still want more.

warning: horror-ish elements, blood mention., religious undertones (aka general vampire themes/concepts)

a/n: i have so much to say about this lil piece of writing omg okay, i wrote this back in May i believe around the time i was reading we have always lived in the castle and it Shows. its lowkey fantasy which is not like anything i write but the horror-ish vibes r pretty consistent with my original stuff. it is heavily inspired by a lot of the vampire media ive consumed too though even if its not based on one particular character. i have been thinking about it since i wrote it and while im a bit ehhh about posting something original i quite literally have nothing else to share and as i said before y’all keeping i’d still eat the fruit in my notifs is so :)))) so this is a thank you to y’all and a Step back into writing for me hopefully. ramble aside enjoy ! feedback and comments r always appreciated

—

It had rained, no—poured, stormed, hailed, cried, screamed. It had swept in during the day, white noise to him as he slept, while it greeted you during breakfast. The clouds wept over the lands in what felt like divine punishment. It was as if nature or something higher than that was against him, accosting or trying to stop him. As he stood at the edge of the great forest, rain pelting the top of his head he assumed there was nothing greater than nature. Not even him. There was nothing higher nor more humbling. God could spite someone, but nature enacted it. It flooded your sleepy town and even sleepier forest and he was on the other side. Confined to his home until the storm cleared and the sun rose.

He would not be graced with your presence yet again and he tried to ignore the call to change you, to have his fangs pierce your skin and his blood run across your tongue. He gritted his teeth, reminding himself of the hurt it brought and he would never cause that for his love. His dearest who lived on the other side of the forest he was unable to cross. His icy glare moved along the border, not even noticing the rain drenching his billowing black cloak anymore. Somewhere in the forest a branch snapped and animals chattered.

He would live for eternity, he could wait for you. It was his resolution before heading back to his home in the woods and trying not to be angry, to let fury run through his long dead veins and restart his stilled heart. If anything—anyone—could, he knew it was you.

He followed the path compacted over the years of those travelling to stare at his home, humans daring each other to go near it, but never following through when the windows shuddered and a figure moved past one of them like a ghost. Times had changed, but people were as superstitious as ever. They saw his decayed and rotted home and prescribed evil to it. It was overrun with vines, leaves would not grow on them. Even in spring. They stayed black, and gnarled, tightening their hold in his house each season. Thorns protruding from some of the thicker vines, protecting him it seemed. You had noted that, staring at his wondrous home with bright eyes.

It was in a clearing in the forest, grey stone withered away and swallowed by nature. It still stood strong, the outside a grotesque picture that did not reflect the inside. Oil lamps and lighting fixtures alike lit the space from the inside out. It warmed the walls, revealing the deep brown wood panelling that made up the older parts of the house. The stairs were still the original wood, a grand staircase that greeted no one, but him and you these days.

Many of the rooms upstairs had been closed off, sheets gently placed over the old furniture and doors closed forever. He had no need for such space, other vampires stopped visiting when hunters started lingering in your town. You had told him of your many encounters, most were smart enough to stay out the forest, but they still killed many of his kind. Finding them in their carriages amongst the cars rolling down the freshly paved roads. Horses killed along with whoever dwelled inside. They saw themselves as vigilantes, but you had told him most of your town considered them a nuisance. Urban men thinking they can save the more rural lands that bordered their great cities. Cities that forgot the magic that once thrived in places like the forest.

“Their thinking of building a highway through it, connecting us to other towns or one of the bigger cities.” You had explained one day, sitting in his lap and letting him hold you. He hummed, long fingers curling into the fabric of your sweater. You placed your warm hand over his and leaned further into his chest. He asked you to let him hold you and you had obliged like always.

He kept those memories in mind, the soft questions he would extend your way and how you listened so dutifully. May I hold you? Will you lay with me? Come walk through the cellar? Can I drink your—

His fist slammed against his dinning room table, nearly snapping it in two as a crack ran jagged through the centre of the chestnut coloured wood. His fangs were out, nails morphed into claws dug into his skin and blood dripped into the crack. He stared at it, muscles in his face twitching as he waited for it to end. Waited for the creature in him to return to laying dormant and his own clear, sound mind to return. Though he supposed it was never very clear or sound anymore, not when you had burrowed inside of him and promised to never leave. And as if his thoughts beckoned you themselves, the old telephone in his study rang. It’s shrill scream echoed through the quiet house, though the ring was discordant, snapping in two halfway through its loop and screeching a pitch higher. The noise made his pointed ears twitch and with a swoop of his cloak he was in his study. He answered it on the normal ring, cutting it off right before it went off tone.

He held the phone to his ear, but waited to speak. “Hello?” You asked, your voice soft and worried. You’d never called him before—truthfully he had no idea this phone even worked.

“Hello my love.” He returned, and you breathed out a happy sigh.

“Oh my god, hi! I found this number in some old directory—phone book thing,” You explained with an airy giddiness that he wished to share, “I wasn’t sure if it was going to work, but…” You trailed off and he was smiling fondly into the receiver.

“I have missed you.”

“I miss you too, I hate this weather I can never get through the forest when its so rainy.”

“I know.”

“Maybe they should build a highway through it, I could hitchhike my way to see you.” You laughed, but he turned somber. Industrialization finally touching the sacred land of the forest didn’t sit right within him. It may be the great divider that kept him away from you, but it was his home. A highway felt like you were asking to be swept away, to a new town or bigger city that he could not adventure too. He could ask you to stay—he knew you’d oblige—but it was not his place to keep you here. “Is your phone one of those spin, dial ones?” You asked suddenly, breaking through the tension he hadn’t meant to create.

“A rotary phone?” He corrected with a ghost of a grin, “Yes it is.”

“I want to see it when I come over again.”

“And so you will.” It was quiet again and he hadn’t noticed the tears running down his face. He didn’t know he was able to cry anymore.

“I love you.” You whispered, holding your cellphone close, likely curled up in bed and staring out your window at the rain and the forest beyond it.

“I love you dearest.” His voice did not betray the sadness building in him. “Sleep beloved, I will see you soon.”

“Yes, I’m gonna come see you and your rotary phone.” You laughed, forced and watery.

“Soon.”

“Soon.” You repeated, and hung up. He kept the black phone, laced with intricate gold details, to his ear for a moment longer. He had heard your voice at least and could sleep. He moved through his home, snuffing out candles and flicking off switches before finding the one room without windows. A coffin laid on the floor, dark brown and glistening with the finish that had been applied centuries ago.

He supposed this was his true home, not the house he had kept himself locked in, but the wooden box with your picture in it. Dutifully kept under his pillow, bringing you to the land of dreams with him—if he could dream. It was a bitter punishment for the life he lived, the transgression—sin—he supposed would be held against the two of you. For how he wanted you more than anything, how he would tear whole cities to shreds at your behest and let the hunters who lurked in your town meet his fangs if you so desired.

It was gluttony, to take eternal life and still want more.

Though it was hard to think of such evil things when looking at your face, he had taken the photo while you were on the roof. Wind had wiped your clothes into a frenzy and you laughed as the night sky twinkled behind you. He had taken it and was surprised when you’d given it to him only a few days later. He had kept up with modern technology as well as he could, but there was always something so magical about photographs to him. He collected hundreds over his life time, faces he knew and others he didn’t. Organized neatly into a collection of books, which he’d let you look through on occasion. He showed you photos from the many lives he’s lived, something about them bringing warmth rushing to your face.

He was always so devastatingly beautiful, regal and hypnotic across all eras. Yet, he couldn’t focus on the kind words that bubbled from your lips as the rushing of the blood under your skin nearly shattered something inside of him. His fangs threatened to meet your skin, but with calculated focus he reigned in his hunger. It was hard at first—you were the only human he had been around in decades—but he did it for love.

Everything he did was for love, it was his reason for existence it seemed. You had other reasons for your claim to life, but to him? You were all he had, the only reason to not let the sun engulf him or let a hunter kill him. He could not break your heart until you broke his. He let that thought dwell in his mind as sleep overtook him just as the sun rose and the rain ended. Its incessant pitter patter had ceased and he somehow dreamt of you standing golden in the forest and beckoning him closer.

He woke up to your face—maybe it wasn’t a dream—as you crouched next to his coffin. Maybe he had finally died and you were welcoming him to where God decided to send him. If you were there it couldn’t be hell. Could it be?

“My love—“ Your hand pressed to his chest, keeping him still. “It’s still daytime, sleep okay?” You whispered, hand moving to his jaw and cradling his face in your palm for a moment. “I’ll be back in a sec okay, I just need to change.” He nodded against you, kissing your hand before you let him reside in darkness. He had caught a glimpse of your pants caked in mud and could smell the blood from your skinned palms. Despite the slick terrain it seemed you ventured through the forest to see him. It made his chest shudder and for a moment he thought you had actually restarted his heart.

It was only a few minutes later when you were carefully opening his coffin again, now dawning a loose fitting silk shirt that made his red eyes alight with something wild. You had cleaned your scrapes and mud off your skin, smelling faintly of rain water and the lavender soap you gifted him. You stepped over him, nestling against his side and letting him enclose the two of you. One of his arms wrapped around your shoulders as your head rested on his chest, knuckles grazing over your hair while you stretched an arm across his torso. Your legs intertwined with his long ones and you let out a breathy sigh.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, and while you likely couldn’t see as thing, he could see you perfectly. You shook your head no against his chest, yawning into the fabric of his shirt.

“I just wanted to see you.” You murmured, chin resting in his chest as you made hit best attempt at eye contact in the blackness. “I saw the dining room table, are you okay?” You asked, somehow staring through him in the darkness. He offered his hand instead of finding the words in his throat, slowly unravelling his fist to reveal a mark free palm. He wasn’t sure you understand what he meant or if your eyes adjusted enough yet, until you carefully closed it once again, kissing his knuckles and placed your hand over his. You both were silent for a moment, until you looked up at him again and breathed, “You’re all I want.”

“And you’re all I have.” He held you closer, watching a grin pull at the corner of your lips. He was sure it was that devotion, obsession even, with you that would bring about his downfall. Centuries old and all powerful, but reduced to nothing without you. His strength and knowledge meant nothing if he didn’t have you to share it with.

And you could not stand your stagnant life in a town full of people who wished his kind dead. You chose a trek through the forest during the twilight hours of the morning to see him, bringing him soft kisses and silk under his hands as you let your mouth meet his. You kissed him with all the exhaustion and lethargy wrapped up in the two of you, molasses slow kisses that were just as sweet. It was how you fell asleep, lips to his neck and head tucked under his chin before your warm breathed puffed across his pale skin. He fell asleep not long after, engulfing you in his embrace, his cloak draping over your frame as he decided home was where you asked him to be.

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meowbert-whiskers · 7 months

Text

Weird ass Resident Evil head cannons because my brain is too silly

Wesker 100% got bullied by Chris and Jill when he was working with S. T. A. R. S. and cried at least once from it.

The moment Ashely got home she started crying to emo nightcore music while downing an entire pack of shredded cheddar cheese.

Luis definitely grabbed Leon's ass at least once whenever he bent down, then got the same treatment from Leon.

Leon purposefully coughs very dramatically in front of people who smoke to make them feel bad.

Chris has frequent nightmares about marrying Jill just for her to turn out to be Wesker in disguise. Every single time he has that nightmare he wakes up in a cold sweat with tears streaming down his face like he just saw the most horrifying thing know to man.

Rebecca has a penis straw some where in her house. It was a gift from Jill.

Wesker is horribly afraid of horses. Any time he sees a horse he starts running away as fast as he can. One time a horse smiled at him and he started screaming in terror.

The only reason Claire wears a ponytail is because one time when she was younger she went to a public pool with Chris and got her hair stuck in one of the drains and had to get a short hair cut. She was bullied about it for years by Chris.

Sherry is obsessed with Pokemon, especially when Leon first started working with the government since he got a bunch of money, and had a Pokemon themed bedroom. Her favourite Pokemon is Sylveon. Leon's is Pikachu because he's a dumb idiot who never saw the appeal and just wanted to make Sherry happy.

William was incredibly nerdy to the point where Annette would sometimes tape his mouth shut while they worked or else her infodump about each way to use a syringe/suture needle/any sort of medical shit they had to use. Albert didn't mind it when he rambled, though.

Chris once pranked Albert by switching his artificial sugars for his coffee with salt and hiding laxatives in it as well. Albert has never forgave him.

Jill once smacked Chris so hard he fell over and folded like an omelette. His spine has never recovered.

Leon was 100% a fan of Oingo Boingo and Weird Al. I will not explain any further.

Ada gets her nails done every other month by the same nail tech. Rebecca is secretly the nail tech.

Leon once accidentally sat on one of Sherry's Plush Charizards and got screamed at for an hour. Sherry said that she didn't want his "butt cooties" on her dragon.

Ashley loves cheese. Specifically brie.

Leon sometimes stares outside of the windows in his home while zoning out and standing completely straight. He also falls asleep like that with his eyes open. Chris will sometimes join him in watching the outside except he stands like a dad and does that thing where he has some sort of nut in his hands and shakes them around before eating them.

Chris wants to have kids, more specifically a daughter, so when Leon was on missions and Claire had to babysit her, he'd try to bond with Sherry. Sherry was horribly afraid of him and would cry if she was picked up by him.

Chris once smacked Wesker so hard his glasses went flying off. Wesker immediately got on the floor and started searching for them Velma style.

Leon unironicaly goes "YEOWCH!" whenever he gets hurt.

In the helicopter, Carlos slung his arm around Jill to try and be hot. It backfired once he realized Jill was both sleeping and drooling all over his arm. Ew.

Leon coughs like an old man on hospice.

Wesker sneezes like a kitten, especially during serious situations. He goes, "I'LL FUCKING END YOU-Achoo! (｡>﹏<｡)"

William once mistook Albert for Anette when he was incredibly tired and kissed Wesker on the lips. Neither were complaining.

This is so fucking dumb but please listen to my insane ramblings. PLEASE.

#rebhfun #:3 #i love being silly #resident evil #leon kennedy #luis serra #re rebecca #rebecca chambers #jill valentine #jill resident evil #albert wesker #chris redfield #chris resident evil #ashley graham #ashley resident evil #theyre all so stupid i love them ♡

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moodymisty · 1 month

Note

Ugh. I promised myself I wasn't going to spam you, but I just read your post about closing requests soon, and I wanted to get one more in. I swear I won't get impatient, though! Absolutely take all the time you need!

Every so often I go back and re-read your old fics (because they're awesome) and I just finished the one about the serf willingly giving their blood to a Lamenter. What about a fic where a fem-serf is able to bring her Lamenter lover out of the Black Rage?

Put in as much angst (and/or spiciness) as you like, as long as the two end up alive, together, and hopeful at the end. I just need something to go RIGHT for those poor, sweet boys.

Thank you so much!

Author's Note: Technically you can't pull an astartes out of the Black Rage, but I'm sure we could temper it before he completely loses himself ;3 This came out like, happy sad and fluffy. I hope you like.

Relationships: Theo (Lamenter oc)/Fem!Reader

Warnings: None really

A booming voice rips through the massive room, where the baseline humans aboard the Lamenters ship are eating. A few marines are eating too, forgoing the traditional time to enjoy a meal with baseline humans they perhaps consider friends.

"Where is Theo's girl?!"

The voice rips through the room, everyone turning to look his way.

He is with one other astartes, who looks just as concerned as he is. They both scan the room, the air itself having dropped into silence at the yells of an Angel.

"The girl! The serf who is always with Lieutenent Theo! Where is she!?"

You're that girl.

You wonder why they want you, why they are screaming; Astartes voices are so ungodly loud, you look at them as your throat tightens. You couldn’t be in trouble?

“…I'm her!"

You eventually say, the people beside you watching as you raise from your seat. They look worried, like your days are numbered, but you doubt the Lamenters would kill you so easily. It's not as if you've done anything wrong; Unless your relationship with Theo was worthy of such a corporal punishment. You pray that won’t be the case.

"Come with us!"

You follow, attempting to keep up with them as they barrel down the hall. Your heart burns from your tired breathing, as you hurry after them.

"Tell me, do you know of the Black Rage?"

One quickly says, grabbing your arm to nearly drag you along when you begin to slow. It hurts, but he's being gentle enough that it doesn't hurt badly enough to complain.

"Yes, Theo has told me."

The astartes nods as you all turn a corner.

"He is loosing himself to it. He is not fully gone yet but he is yelling our primarch's name; Yours as well," He continues. "We are guessing that if you're there, we might pull him out of it before it's too late."

You all eventually reach where ever Theo is, as the astartes here are piled up at the ready near the entrance.

"What happens if this doesn't work?"

You say- though you know the answer. If they put down men fallen to the Red Thirst, you don't imagine it is very much different with the Black Rage.

"He would get the Emperor's Mercy. It is all we can give him if he is lost.”

The thought of Theo being gone backs your chest tighten, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. You can’t lose him. Not to something like this.

"Come in, we have him restrained but, we aren't going to keep him like this for long. He deserves mercy if we cannot pull him back.”

You follow them in, and you instantly you hear it; The screaming.

"Horus! I will tear you to shreds! Don't touch them! Don't touch any of them!"

Theo is chained on his knees to the floor, ripping and pulling at the chains with every bit of his strength. He is an older, stronger Lamenter, the chains are creaking and groaning with each tug as the threaten to give under his raw strength. A few Lamenters are posted around the small room with bolters ready, fingers on the trigger.

"Theo?"

You quietly say to him, and the one astartes who had dragged you hear lets your aching arm go. Theo's attention instantly snaps to you, but it's almost as if he's looking through you.

"You're here? How are you? You have to leave! It is not safe here I must-"

You shake your head and come closer, despite the mutters of the other Lamenters not to. They want to keep your safety in mind next to an enraged, massive Lamenter, but even in your dizzying fear of him you just want to help him. You quell your shaking and move to him.

"Theo, don't look at them, look at me."

He's seeing ghosts in his brothers, his eyes are trained on them like enemies. Each movement they make pulls him away from you, and any calmness you give him is ruined at the sound of another Lamenter even just shifting in his armor.

"Can you all, can you all leave for a moment? He thinks you're the enemy." The look among each other, and debate it.

"Very well."

They move to leave, and you hear the door close behind them once they all file out. The door locks, and you're trapped in here with him. If anything goes wrong, you’re the first in his path.

"Theo, see? They're all gone."

His eyes are frantic, dark- they scan the room looking for enemies you can't see. You hear him muttering names under his breath you don’t recognize, besides the Angel Sanguinus.

Horus, he’s going to kill Horus,

"It's just me and you, like the last time you returned from duty and we had that time alone in your quarters?"

You hear his hearts racing you swear, and you can tell he's still half in that illusion the Rage is trapping him in. He shakes his head, wrinkled brow furrowing.

"I remember, I remember."

His eyes dart behind you and you quickly move to try and block whatever he thinks he sees. It works; You see him squeeze his eyes shut.

"He's not there. Nothing is there." You put a hand to his face.

"There's nothing here but me, Theo."

He takes a few more deep breaths, and you see the glaze on his face- that distant look - slowly fade away.

"You are here. When did you get here?" You laugh.

"Your brothers ran to get me when they saw you were succumbing to the Rage. They hoped I would be able to help."

He can't touch you with his hands chained towards the ground, but he can lean forward and let you put his forehead to your neck.

"You did help. I don't remember any of this day; I was about to be completely lost, wasn't I."

You pull back and nod at him. You push a hand over your eyes to wipe away any tears before they fall down your face.

"You were acting like your brothers were enemies." He hangs his head- not moments after being pulled from the brink of true insanity and he is already admonishing himself.

"You put yourself in danger to pull me from my own weakness. Why?"

Why wouldn't you? He is the light of your life, Theo is your entire world. You couldn't imagine a life without him.

"Because I wanted to." You give him a kiss to the scar on his nose.

"Can your brothers come and unchain you?" He nods, before yelling.

"Brothers. I am here. I can... I can be unchained."

They return, looking at Theo with no small bit of surprise. Even the one who dragged you here in a last ditch effort seemed shocked.

"You managed to pull him back from the Rage? I didn't think it would work." It didn't seem like many of them did. Though you suppose you can't be surprised. You don’t know if anyone has ever managed to delay the Black Rage.

They move to unchain him, and quickly he picks you up and holds you close to his chest. It’s a bit too tight pressed against cold ceramite, but you have zero desire to tell him that.

"Go get unarmored, Lieutenant Theo. Then perhaps today you have earned some rest." The captain looks to you, bundled in his arms.

"Your serf too. She helped us save a good brother."

Theo takes you with him to remove his armor, a deed you have never seen done before. You watch as each piece is pulled away one at a time, until the is only left in his black armoring suit. He removes that too, before covering his bare skin with a robe.

Once he is finished he picks you back up, and silently carries you to his quarters.

When you get there, he places you on the cot he calls his bed and climbs into it with you, dragging you around until you are firmly against his chest and unable to escape.

"I have no ways to say how much I am in debt to you. You have saved me from the Thirst an uncountable number of times, and now the Rage," You shake your head against his chest.

"Don't worry. I do it all because I love you. I’ll do it again, if you need me to.”

The metal of his interface ports digs into your skin, but you couldn't care less.

"I love you as well."

#space marine x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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starryeyeddreamer21 · 22 days

Text

Characters as things I've said/heard people say

I went to the fair with my family so you get this

---

Angel: No regrets, if we die good riddance

----

Cherri: I would strap myself to a bomb for fun

----

Charlie: I haven't pet a cow in too long I think

----

Vaggie: *furious* All because I can't crochet

----

Husk: if I was a goat I'd uhhh umm I don't know I'd probably just be a goat... Sleep maybe?

----

Angel: I'm going to touch your ankles

Husk: What are you, some kind of Victorian pervert?

----

Charlie: *gasping and pointing to a sign* SUPER FRIED CHICKEN

Angel: Lame I want super SUPER fried chicken

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Alastor: *watching pork roast* Gorgeous

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Charlie: *feeding Vaggie* here comes the airplane

Alastor: ... That was embarrassing for both of you

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Vaggie: *watching a man dressed as a cockroach walk by* The men have started morphing into their true forms

----

Cherri: Wouldn't it be funny if this place got set on fire

Charlie: No??? There would be a stampede

Cherri: Oh damn I would die

Charlie: No, you would stampede?

Cherri: I wouldn't run

Charlie: *sigh* yeah, of course not

----

Sir Pentious: If I died on a rollercoaster my last words would be "Wahoo"

----

Nifty: I need to destroy, I need to rip something to shreds with my bare hands

----

Lucifer and his Candy apple adventures a saga:

Lucifer: *holding a candy apple* oh hell yeah I'm gonna fuck this shit UP

Lucifer: *spits seed at Alastor*

Alastor: *doesn't notice*

Lucifer: *spits seed at Alastor*

Alastor: *looks around* ???

Lucifer: *spits seed at Alastor*

Alastor: *looks back at him* What are you doing?

Lucifer: Huh?

Lucifer: *spits seed at Alastor*

Alastor: WILL YOU STOP

Lucifer: What are you talking about????

Alastor: You're throwing something in my hair and on my shoulders and back-

Lucifer: *singing* head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes!

(my sister never figured out what I was doing 💀)

Lucifer: *still eating his candy apple* Why am I eating this like a chicken wing?

Charlie: Is that not how you're supposed to eat it?

Lucifer: You are absolutely right

Lucifer: *covered in candy apple* I'm sticky 🥺

Lucifer: *done with his candy apple but still chewing on the stick*

Alastor: *takes a bite of a mozzarella stick*

Lucifer: *gasps* MOZZARELLA STICKS

Alastor: *dips mozzarella sticks in marinara sauce and holds it out to Lucifer*

Lucifer: *reaches for it*

Alastor: *takes it back and glares*

Lucifer: what? oh- weirdo *eats it from his hand*

----

Lucifer: Can you bring me to the bathroom?

Alastor: I'm not carrying you

Lucifer: *rolls eyes* can you walk me to the-

Alastor: I might be able to find you a little red wagon

Lucifer: I'm going to punch you

----

Cherri: Froot loops are just-

Angel: *nods seriously* Gay Cheerios

----

Charlie: I need to find a bathroom to cry in asap

----

Vaggie: She's either drunk or high off something

Angel: I think it would be easier if I was high

----

Charlie: All I can smell is weed

Angel and Cherri: *deep inhale*

Charlie: NO

----

Alastor: Ugh there are so many people

Lucifer: I know I'm dying

----

Angel: *gasp* MY PHONE IS ON ONE PERCENT

Alastor: *completely monotone* oh no the horrors

----

Stranger: Is that your dad?

Husk: Do I look that old?

Angel: No, we're married

Stranger: Oh... you're married

Angel: *laughing* No

Husk: DO I LOOK THAT OLD????

----

Lucifer: *singing along* I can count on you like 4 3 2 you'll be there

Alastor: No I'd leave you

Lucifer: Yeah I know

Alastor: Like everyone else

Lucifer: oh

----

Nifty: *staring at crystals* Do I think they could heal me? No, I am beyond repair. Do I think they're so so so so pretty? YES!!! I NEED THEM

----

Lucifer: *overstimulated, angry, and grinning with tears in his eyes* I wish I could enjoy things

---

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stervrucht · 23 days

Text

@steddieangstyaugust Day 30: Vampire

1730 words

Blood crawls where it can't go

[Part1] Part2

There’s something wrong with him.

Eddie has felt it ever since he woke up in the Upside Down, alone, clothes torn to shreds, soaked with blood, but otherwise unharmed. He still remembers the way those teeth tore into him. How the bats gnawed and bit, tearing at his skin until it gave way.

Yet, there’s nothing to show for it. Nothing at all.

Did he dream it? Wouldn't that just be so like him, dozing off post-battle in some weird-ass hellscape? Fucking good for nothing.

He was surrounded by bat corpses and Dustin was gone. The bedsheet rope from the portal was cut off, just as he remembers, only now a new makeshift rope had taken its place—ratty curtains tied together. The others probably left through there.

When Eddie makes his way through the portal, the world is a mess. He is instantly hit by the whaling sirens: the air alarm, ambulances, fire trucks. The whole shebang.

The trailer park looks like an earthquake ran through it and pulled the ground apart at places he’s sure used to have dwellings standing there. There are people everywhere, clutching at each other, pulling at debris. They’re shouting names and consoling crying children.

Eddie is spotted as soon as he leaves what remains of the trailer.

He freezes, staring right back at the wondering eyes of a woman. Her eyes widen with a small flame of recognition until—

It dies behind her eyes the next second. She carries on, hauling arms full of belongings towards a car.

That’s weird.

That’s so fucking weird.

He has no time to dwell on it though. Definitely shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

He could head to Reefer Rick’s again. Thinks he could do it mostly unseen. Maybe lay low for a few days until things calm down. He’s pretty sure he still saw some cans of mushroom soup deep within the kitchen cabinets. A roof over his head and a stomach full of food would certainly help him sort his thoughts.

He moves carefully through the remains of the trailer park. Every now and then, people stare, but no one says anything. No one cries ‘bloody murder’ or crosses their hearts. After a while, Eddie realizes stealth seems hardly necessary.

The people just don’t care.

Fair enough. Hawkins looks like the apocalypse rolled in and went to town. There’s probably bigger fish to fry than some suspected satanist-turned-murderer.

He isn’t sure when he goes from sneaking to walking, but he does eventually. And maybe he died after all. Maybe he’s nothing but a ghost wandering the mortal realm. A wraith maybe, that’d be pretty cool.

Except, people are looking. They stare at him, open their mouths, only to close them again, thoughts seemingly slipping away.

No one stops him the whole way out to Reefer Rick’s.

—

He tries eating the soup, but the moment it hits his tongue he gags. He can’t keep it down—can’t even swallow it. After his so manyth attempt, he decides to throw it out. It’s no use.

He’s so hungry.

He’s starving, gut aching with sharp pain.

He wanders around Rick’s house, unsure what to do with himself. His legs are restless and his stomach won’t stop its incessant aching.

That is until he enters the boathouse. He hears the padding on nails on wood before he sees them.

Rats.

There is nothing he can do to stop himself from chasing them. He’s much faster, more agile than he remembers—much more than any rat.

He captures the pest with ease, holding the little rodent by the scuff of its neck. It struggles against his fingers and squeaks with fury. Eddie stares at its brown fur, cocks his head as he studies it with newfound interest. He feels its heat under his fingers and hears its heartbeat inside his head like a song.

The next thing he knows, he feels fur on his tongue and tastes blood on his lips.

—

He visits the hospital the next day.

He walked all the way from Reefer Rick’s with no one to stop him. He enters the hospital without a problem and asked after all the names of his friends. The receptionist gives him the same strange look: a second of recognition before her eyes turn glassy and it’s business as usual.

He gets two hits: Maxine Mayfield and Steve Harrington.

He visits Max first and finds Lucas by her side. He feels a little bad about how they left things—he hasn’t really spoken to him since the campaign.

That seems so long ago.

There is no use in addressing it now though. Lucas has other things on his mind. Max lies bent and broken in bed. The gentle beeping of the heart monitor assures him she’s alive, even though she doesn’t seem like it. He gives Lucas’ shoulder a reassuring squeeze and tells Max to hang in there before moving to his second target.

Steve Harrington is in much better shape than Max.

He lies in bed, his torso bare except for where it’s wrapped in bandages. An IV hanging off his arm, clear fluid in the bag by his side. Steve stares at the little TV, unaware of Eddie’s presence.

A strange feeling swirls in his gut as he stares at Steve. He takes in the soft pink of his skin, a little more pale than normal, but full of life nonetheless. His eyes move to the gentle curve of Steve’s neck where tendons draw tight lines as he leans his head to one side.

Eddie can’t stop staring, saliva pooling in his mouth. Did Steve always look this good? He wants to sink his teeth in, crawl under his skin and consume him. Taste his mouth and drink his sounds—

What the hell is wrong with him?

He swallows thickly, hands clenching and unclenching as he tries to compose himself.

Steve turns his head.

His eyes widen and Eddie sees it again—should be used to it by now—the dying of realization, words slipping from the tip of the tongue. Whatever got Hawkins in its grip, it’s doing a damn good job of keeping Eddie out of trouble.

There must be something wrong with him. Steve’s frown confirms it.

Eddie clears his throat, willing his unease away. “Hey, man. How’re you holding up?”

“Been better.” Steve raises his arm with the IV. “Preventative antibiotics. Something about sep…sepsis?”

Eddie nods, eyes finding their way back to Steve’s neck. He can hear his heartbeat from here, doesn’t even need to look at the little screen to know it’s elevated. Is Steve nervous or is it the drugs?

“I—” Eddie pauses for a moment. He doesn’t know what to say. “Did you get him?” he whispers that last part, afraid of who might be listening in.

Steve nods. “Torched the fucker. Nance shot him to pieces too.”

Eddie feels some tension leaving his body. “Good. That’s good,” he sighs.

“You and Dustin did well.” Steve’s eyes are on him, gaze intense. “We couldn’t have done it without you guys.”

Steve doesn’t mention the fact Eddie woke up, alone, in the Upside Down.

Abandoned.

It’s strange. Somehow it feels too significant to omit, yet he doesn’t say it either. He lets it hang unspoken between the two of them.

“You need anything? I can get you something,” Eddie says eventually. He points a thumb over his shoulder towards the door.

“Actually,” Steve starts, a small smile playing on his lips, “I’m dying for a soda.”

Eddie gets two sodas from the vending machine in the hallway, and they drink them together while making small talk. Eddie doesn’t have much to say—can’t form too many coherent thoughts really—with Steve’s presence next to him. It’s calling out to him like a siren’s song, the sound of Steve’s voice like a melody.

He forces his eyes down. Makes sure not to look at the way Steve’s throat bobs as he drinks.

Once they finish their drinks, Eddie excuses himself. His hands are itching for skin, and he tastes the ghost of metallic blood on his tongue.

The rat thing.

It had been fucking weird, yet something within him calls for it—screams for it. The moment he hears the rapid beat of their tiny hearts in a back alley a few streets away from the hospital, he starts running.

—

Steve stirs awake and the living room is dark and quiet. He sits himself up on the couch, back hurting from the strange position he fell asleep in. The table is clear of D&D attributes and all chairs are back in their rightful place. Did he dream it all—his living room filled with kids, joyously shrieking in victory under the careful narration of Eddie’s voice?

“Jonathan and Nancy came to pick them up.” Eddie sits across from him in a chair, legs crossed, his form illuminated only by the gentle blue light bouncing inside from the pool. He speaks like he reads Steve’s mind and his eyes shine bright, reflecting light like a cat’s would.

Steve shudders. The scratches on his knee ache, the phantom of Eddie’s nails still present. “You’re still here.”

Eddie uncrosses his legs and leans forward, lower arms resting on his knees. “Didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

His tone sounds sincere, normal even.

“I’m always alone.” Steve runs a hand through his hair, tries to tame it a little after it got messed up by lying down. His heart is still thundering in his chest, nervous anticipation running through his veins like a drug.

Eddie is silent for a moment, two glowing orbs staring at him unblinkingly. “You don’t have to be.”

Steve licks his lips. He can feel it now. A choice. It feels like he’s balancing on the edge of a cliff, staring down the deep void and considering whether he should jump. “You’re asking to stay?”

“If you’ll have me?”

Eddie’s words are deceptively simple, but there’s more to them. An unspoken question. Steve considers it, imagines the warm embrace of what’s down at the bottom of that cliff.

Wonders if Eddie will be there to catch him.

It would feel so good to give in. Run away from suffering and pain and the knowledge of what horrors are out there.

“I would,” Steve says finally. His voice is surprisingly steady. He feels confident in his words.

---

To be continued.

This turned out much longer than I anticipated. I will post a full version on Tumblr and AO3 once I get around to it <3

#steddie #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #steve harrington #eddie munson #vampire!eddie munson #kas!eddie munson #horror #steddie fic #steddie angst #steddie horror #my fics #steddieangstyaugust #ster writes steddie

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rottenpumpkin13 · 2 months

Note

So, since we know the Firsts have canonical fanclubs, do you think they receive mail or gifts from the members? What are the strangest things they have received?

Weird things the First Class trio have received from fans, a list

• Sephiroth received a bra from a fan. He commented on the color, quality and size, lamenting that it didn't fit him.

Angeal: No, you don't understand. It's supposed to be a flirtatious act.

Sephiroth: I agree. Me wearing a bra would be very flirtatious.

Angeal:

Sephiroth: I'm not blind to my stunning looks, Angeal.

• Genesis received an autographed portrait of Sephiroth once that made him so angry he threw it from the 49th floor. It hit a passerby below. The passerby was Zack, who was ecstatic that "free shit was raining from the sky."

• Angeal received a letter that was a marriage proposal from a fan. It was very sweet, he was touched, and wrote back politely turning them down.

*Zack bursts into Angeal's office with the letter in hand*

Zack: WHY WON'T YOU LOVE ME?

Angeal: !?

• Genesis received a giant stuffed moogle, but was paranoid that it contained a camera inside it. He then proceeded to tear it to shreds, only to discover that it was just a regular stuffed moogle.

Genesis, standing in amidst the stuffing and shreds of the moogle: Oh! Everything is fine!

*Sephiroth is on the phone*

Genesis: Who are you calling?

Sephiroth: Hello? Yes, I'd like to report a murder.

Genesis:

• Sephiroth received a vial of tears from a fan who claimed it was "tears she cried after realizing she could never be with Sephiroth." Sephiroth responded by sending back a vial of tears he already had on hand. It was labeled: "tears I cried upon realizing we're all stuck on a meaningless spinning rock, stripped of comfort from birth, destined to die or watch our loved ones die."

He showed it to Angeal. One hour later a counselor knocked on Sephiroth's office door to "talk about his grownup emotions"

• Angeal received a beautiful office plant from a fan. He loved the plant. He cared for the plant. He lost sleep over the plant. He watered, nurtured, and spoke positive affirmations to it every day.

Only to discover that it was plastic. Sephiroth and Genesis had to hold him down.

• Someone sent Genesis a printed fanfiction of a romance between him and the fan. Genesis sent it back with annotations, comments and corrections done in red ink.

• Sephiroth received a pizza from a fan delivered to his office. He wasn't about to turn down pizza at 2PM on a Thursday, but Angeal and Genesis wouldn't let him eat it.

Angeal: Here, I'll call the pizza place back and ask them for the name of who sent it.

Sephiroth: I don't see what the problem is.

Genesis: The problem, my friend, is that it could be poisoned.

Sephiroth: But what if it's not?

Angeal: But what if it is?

Sephiroth: But what if it's not?

Genesis: But what if it is?

Zack, mouthful of pizza: It tastes like ass.

• Genesis received a lifesize cardboard cutout of Sephiroth once. He opened the box expecting a huge gift, only to be met with Sephiroth's face staring at him. Genesis passed out. Sephiroth and Angeal found him like that 10 minutes later, still passed out, with the cardboard cutout peeking out from the box.

Angeal: What happened to him!?

Sephiroth: My stunning looks have that effect on people.

Angeal:

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #zack fair #ff7 crisis core #crisis core

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xxspringmelodyxx · 4 months

Text

260~

Gojo x F!Reader (Angst)

I hope you all enjoy! (I needed this okay. Especially after the newest leaks ToT)

Warnings: Violence, that’s about it…I think

______

I sat on the ground, looking down at the photos of me and Satoru together. Memories began to flood my mind like a relentless tide as I looked at them one by one. I ran my fingers delicately over the glossy surface of each image, reliving the moments captured within.

There we were, laughing under the soft glow of streetlights, his infectious smile lighting up the night as we lost ourselves in each other's company. I could almost feel the warmth of his kisses against my skin as I traced the contours of our intertwined figures, frozen in time.

Memories of our cherished dates danced across my mind, each one a symphony of laughter, whispered promises, and stolen glances. Whether it was a simple stroll through the bustling streets or an extravagant evening under the stars, every moment spent with him felt like a precious gift.

But it wasn't just the romantic gestures or grand gestures that endeared him to me. It was the way he poured his heart and soul into everything he did, especially when it came to his students. I could still hear the passion in his voice as he spoke to me of his duty to protect and guide them, his eyes alight with determination and compassion.

And then there were the quieter moments, the ones where we simply existed in each other's presence, finding solace in the simple act of being together. His strength became my anchor, his unwavering support giving me the courage to face whatever challenges life threw our way.

But now, as I sat surrounded by these memories, a bittersweet ache settled in my chest. For all the love we shared, for all the moments we cherished, he was gone. And in his absence, I was adrift, lost in a sea of grief and longing.

Tears streamed down my cheeks yet again, marking another day of relentless sorrow. Six months had passed since his death, yet the pain felt as raw as ever. The moment I received the news of his passing, a wave of numbness washed over me, leaving me paralyzed in its wake. It felt like someone tore my heart out and ripped it into shreds. Since then, I haven’t been the same. It’s been a struggle just to eat and sleep regularly. My eyes are extremely hollowed out due to crying every day. My hair is a complete mess since I can’t care enough to do it. Our once shared home is a wreck as I am too weak to move to do anything. I just feel so…hopeless.

I am lost without him. People try to reach out, they try to check up on me to see how I am doing. I am forever grateful for them. But despite their well-intentioned efforts, each and every time, they are met with silence as the weight of my sorrow burdens me too much to speak at all.

As I continue to look at all of our shared memories together, out of nowhere, the sound of something falling to the ground caught my attention. I looked across the room to see a necklace had fallen. It was the one he had bought me for my birthday. It was the last gift he had ever gotten me before he died. I crawled over to it, holding it carefully in my hand. It was a gorgeous 24K golden necklace that had a locket on it. Inside was a photo of him and I kissing on our first anniversary. I still remember the day he gave it to me.

***

The air was alive with anticipation as I unwrapped the small velvet box he had presented to me on my birthday. His eyes sparkled with excitement, mirroring my own as I lifted the lid to reveal the gleaming gold necklace nestled within.

“‘Toru…It’s beautiful,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper, overwhelmed by the love and thoughtfulness he had poured into the gift.

“I wanted something special for my special girl,” he replied, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes as he fastened the necklace around my neck. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down my spine, a gentle reminder of the depth of our connection.

As I admired the delicate craftsmanship of the locket, he reached out, gently turning it over to reveal the polished surface within. “And there’s more,” he said, his voice tinged with excitement. “Open it.”

I looked down to look at the heart shaped locket. I carefully pried it open, revealing the treasure hidden within – a small photograph of us, captured in a moment of pure happiness on our first anniversary.

My breath caught in my throat as I beheld the image, a rush of emotion flooding my senses. "Oh, Satoru," I whispered, my voice thick with tears. "It's beautiful."

He smiled, his expression tender as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to my forehead.

"Every time you wear it, I want you to remember this moment," he murmured, his voice soft with emotion as he brushed a stray lock of hair from my face. "No matter where life takes us, you'll always have a piece of me with you."

His smile, so full of warmth and affection, mirrored my own as we exchanged glances, the weight of our shared history imbuing each moment with a sense of timeless bliss.

With a gentle kiss pressed to his lips, I whispered my gratitude, knowing that this precious gift would serve as a constant reminder of the love we shared, a beacon of hope in the midst of despair.

”I love you, Satoru Gojo~” You spoke

”And I love you more, Y/n soon to be Gojo.~” He spoke, making you giggle a bit

***

I stared at the necklace, my hands trembling with a mix of anger and despair as the memory replayed in my mind like a relentless nightmare. Everything we had shared, everything we had built together – gone, all because of that arrogant, vile Sukuna. If it weren't for his twisted machinations, Satoru would still be here, his arms wrapped around me, his laughter filling the air with warmth.

The injustice of it all burned like a raging inferno within me, fueling the flames of my anger until it consumed every other thought. How dare he rob us of our happiness? How dare he tear apart the life we had built, leaving me alone in this desolate void?

With a sudden surge of power, I lost control, the energy within me erupting in a violent explosion that sent objects hurtling away from me. Furniture toppled and shattered, the very air crackling with the force of my rage.

As everything around me began to float in the maelstrom of my emotions, I realized that my anger was a force unto itself, a storm raging within me with no end in sight. And in that moment, I welcomed its embrace, for it was the only thing that made sense in this world of shattered dreams and broken promises.

Quickly, my tears came to a stop and my eyes became dull. Everything got silent and all I could hear was my breathing. Amidst the chaos, a newfound clarity emerged. I had nothing left to lose, nothing left to fear. Satoru's death had stripped away everything that mattered to me, leaving behind only a burning desire for vengeance. My final mission was clear – to hunt down Sukuna and make him pay for the pain he had inflicted upon me.

With grim determination, I rose from the wreckage, my eyes blazing with purpose. No longer bound by the constraints of fear or doubt, I embraced the darkness that lurked within me, channeling it into a single, unwavering purpose – to avenge the man I loved, no matter the cost.

___________

As weeks passed, my relentless pursuit of Sukuna led me to a scene of utter devastation. The air was thick with smoke, the acrid stench of charred debris assaulting my senses as I surveyed the destruction that lay before me. Buildings lay in ruins, flames licking at the remnants of once bustling streets. The ground was littered with the lifeless bodies of innocent victims, their silent screams echoing in the depths of my soul.

But amidst the chaos, I spotted him – Sukuna, the architect of this carnage, his presence a malevolent shadow looming over the shattered landscape. Anger surged within me like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf me in its fiery embrace as I took a step forward, my eyes fixed upon my target.

Before I could unleash my fury upon him, a sudden attack from the shadows sent me reeling, the impact driving me to my knees. As I struggled to regain my bearings, a figure emerged from the darkness – Uraume, her eyes gleaming with malice as they bore down upon me, intent on snuffing out my life before I could enact my vengeance.

But I refused to yield, drawing upon the depths of my power as I met her onslaught head-on. With a telekinetic force born of desperation and determination, I countered her every move, the air crackling with the intensity of our battle. Each blow landed with the force of a sledgehammer, the clash of our powers sending shockwaves rippling through the war-torn landscape.

We lunged at each other, hitting our fists together with the same amount of force. In turn, a large burst of green light blazed throughout the area, catching Sukuna’s attention. He turned and saw Uraume and…you.

“So, his little love has finally decided to show up. After all this time?” Sukuna’s voice dripped with contempt as he surveyed the scene. With a smirk, he turned on his heel, confident that Uraume would handle the situation.

Uraume and I both flew back into the debris, the ground trembling beneath us as we struggled to rise. With swiftness, she got back on her feet and rushed towards me, her eyes ablaze with fury and determination. But I refused to falter, drawing upon the memory of Satoru’s love and the burning need for justice that fueled my every action. With a final surge of power, I unleashed a devastating wave of telekinetic energy, causing everything around me to rise in a whirlwind of chaos. I sent all of them flying towards Uraume, causing her to stop in her tracks. One by one, debris and rubble soared towards and surrounded her, encircling her in a ring of destruction to prevent her escape.

“You dare try and stop me?” I advanced towards her, my voice dripping with menace as I surveyed her trapped form.

She tried to escape once more, but I plunged a large pole down right through her arm, pinning her to the ground with a sickening crunch. I curled my fingers, causing the pole itself to curl around her body so that she couldn’t move. She writhed in pain, feeling the cool metal sink and expand in her skin. However, through the midst of the pain, she couldn’t help but find herself forming a crazed smile.

“You can’t do this. You won’t do this! From the beginning I showed up, I’ve observed you closely, analyzed your every move to ensure your defeat. I know that you’ve always advocated for alternatives to violence, for solutions that don’t end in bloodshed. If you kill me, you’d be going against everything you believe in. ” She said, trying to hide the little tremble in her voice.

With a flick of my wrist, the metal pole tore through her leg, silencing her cries of pain.

”That was before you both took what was once mine.” I spoke with venom.

I walked up closer to her, making her bow down to me. My hand tilted her face up towards mine, making her see the hurt and anger surging through my eyes.

“Even if you do kill me, if you go against Sukuna…you will meet death.” She said, coughing up blood. I knelt down to her, unfazed as a single tear dropped down my face.

“I already have. When Sukuna killed my ‘Toru.” I spoke.

”Let me show you what it felt like.” I said, raising my fingers, causing the pole to bend any way I wanted it to. It rose up just above her chest, pointing towards her heart.

A few seconds passed by of pure silence as I watched Uraume stare at the pole with unease. I then snapped my fingers, causing the pole to run straight through her heart, ripping it to bits and pieces. Her breathing hitched as she felt the air slip away from her body. She looked at me with fearful eyes, but they were met with dull and lifeless ones.

“Goodbye, Uraume.” I spoke, standing to my feet and walking away. Her body slowly became limp as she felt her body go cold, her life slipping away second by second.

Now, all that was left was the sound of cackling fire and wind. Nothing else.

“I must say, I am surprised, little one,” Sukuna’s gruff voice cut through the tension like a knife.

I looked up, my eyes meeting the gaze of the man I had been hunting relentlessly. He stood tall, a menacing figure looming in the distance, his presence a dark shadow cast over the devastation around us.

“It’s a shame really. About Gojo, I mean,” Sukuna continued, his words dripping with malice. “He almost had me for a moment there. But it turns out he never could win against me. It was so enticing just watching the life slip away from his eyes, watching him realize that the almighty Gojo Satoru had met his final end.”

The image of Gojo’s demise played in my mind like a cruel mockery, igniting a firestorm of rage within me. The thought of Toru being all alone, dying… it was too much to bear. I moved my hand up to feel the necklace Toru gave me around my neck, holding everything in to not get distracted.

“What’s the matter, little one? Can’t handle the loss of your lover? Come on, It’s not like you lost everything.” His words were like daggers, each one driving deeper into the wound of my grief. A cold fury ignited within me, and in that moment, I knew that Sukuna’s words would be his undoing.

With a primal scream, I swung my hands down, propelling myself through the air with unstoppable force. I seized Sukuna by the neck, my fingers digging into his flesh as I locked eyes with him, fury blazing in my gaze. He searched my eyes, perhaps expecting to find fear or sadness, but all he found was unbridled rage.

“He was my everything,” I snarled, my voice dripping with venom. With a surge of energy, I unleashed a powerful burst, hurtling Sukuna through the air and slamming him into a barely standing building. The impact sent debris flying in all directions, the structure crumbling under the force of our clash.

I soared upwards, propelled by sheer determination, my telekinetic prowess seizing hold of anything within reach. With a swift, calculated motion, I gathered debris from the surroundings, forming a makeshift arsenal that crackled with latent energy. I hurled the improvised projectiles towards Sukuna, each impact resonating with a thunderous force.

As the chaos unfolded below, I descended with unparalleled velocity to prevent him from having any time to block my hits. The sheer momentum of my descent created shockwaves that rippled through the earth. A brilliant green light erupted from the ground upon impact, fractures spider-webbing across the surface as the sheer force of my assault reverberated through the battlefield.

Yet, as I’m kept attacking, Sukuna managed to move with such speed that he managed to dodge some of my hits. With a sinister grin, he countered my final attack, his own power manifesting in a whirlwind of destruction that met my attack head-on.

Caught off guard by his swift retaliation, I found myself ensnared in Sukuna’s grasp, his grip unyielding as he effortlessly subdued my efforts. Quickly, I unleashed another surge of telekinetic energy, forcing Sukuna to stagger back momentarily. I could feel myself losing consciousness though, using too much of my power for too long. But I can’t stop now. I will kill Sukuna…or at least die trying. Seizing the opportunity, I broke free from his grasp and launched myself backwards, creating distance between us.

Breathing heavily, I steadied myself for the next assault. Sukuna’s eyes gleamed with anticipation, a feral grin spreading across his lips as he prepared to renew his attack. Without hesitation, I dove back into the fray, determination burning fiercely within me.

Our clash resumed with renewed intensity, each blow exchanged was met with equal ferocity, neither of us willing to back down in the face of the other’s relentless onslaught.

"You fight with admirable tenacity," Sukuna remarked, his voice laced with amusement as he observed my relentless assault.

"I'll never stop fighting until justice is served," I retorted, my words dripping with defiance as I squared off against him once more.

Sukuna chuckled darkly, his gaze narrowing as he prepared to unleash another wave of devastating power. "Your resolve is commendable, but ultimately futile," he taunted, his voice resonating with a chilling certainty.

With a defiant glare, I summoned every ounce of strength within me, pushing myself to the brink in my quest to overcome him. "We'll see about that," I replied, my voice filled with determination as I braced myself for the next exchange.

We both hurled towards each other with such speed that it would be impossible to see us with the naked eye. In a moment of perfect synchronization, Sukuna and I clashed together with such force that a mix of our energy erupted from our combined powers.

The collision of our powers created a blinding explosion that illuminated the night sky.

The resulting explosion was cataclysmic, sending shockwaves rippling through the air as numerous buildings that were already on the verge of collapse finally succumbed to the force of our clash. Debris rained down around us as the landscape was engulfed in chaos. We were both knocked back far away from each other.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the echoes of our battle reverberating through the war-torn city. As the dust settled and the chaos subsided, I found myself staring up at the sky, my body wracked with exhaustion. Each breath felt like a struggle as I fought to remain conscious. Sukuna’s relentless assault had taken its toll, his counterattacks wearing down my defenses with ruthless efficiency.

I tried to summon my telekinetic abilities once more, but to no avail. My body felt heavy and sluggish, my limbs refusing to obey my commands. The strain of overexertion coupled with Sukuna’s relentless attacks had left me drained and vulnerable.

I suddenly heard footsteps approaching, the sound echoing ominously in the aftermath of our battle. Instinctively, I knew that Sukuna was drawing near, ready to decide my fate.

I lay there, helpless and defeated, as Sukuna loomed over me with a triumphant smirk. His victory was all but assured, his malevolent gaze gleaming with sadistic pleasure as he prepared to deliver the final blow.

“So, this is how it ends,” Sukuna sneered, his voice dripping with contempt as he regarded me with disdain. “Pathetic. I expected more from someone who dared to challenge me.”

Despite the overwhelming despair that threatened to consume me, I refused to let Sukuna see my fear. With every fiber of my being, I summoned a flicker of defiance, a spark of defiance that refused to be extinguished.

“You may have won this battle,” I replied, my voice trembling with exertion, “but the war is far from over. You can take as many of us as you want…but trust that soon…you will meet your end.” I spoke valiantly.

As Sukuna smirked, poised to deliver the final blow, you braced yourself for the inevitable. With a sense of resignation, you closed your eyes, steeling yourself for the worst. Yet, to your surprise, nothing happened.

”What the hell?” Sukuna said with confusion and utter shock.

Slowly, tentatively, you opened your eyes, expecting to be met with the cold, merciless gaze of your adversary. Instead, your vision was filled with a sight that filled you with disbelief and hope in equal measure.

Standing before you, his presence radiating with a familiar warmth and strength, was Satoru Gojo. His white hair billowed around him like a halo, his gaze unwavering as he faced down Sukuna with a steely resolve.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you gazed upon the man you had thought lost forever. The sheer improbability of his presence left you speechless, a surge of emotion welling up within you as you struggled to comprehend the reality of the situation.

With a defiant glare, Satoru stood his ground, a protective barrier between you and Sukuna.

“Hollow purple”

Within an instant, Satoru unleashed his ability, pushing Sukuna away with a force that sent shockwaves rippling through the air. The sheer power of his attack was enough to stagger even the mighty cursed spirit, buying precious moments of respite in the midst of the chaos.

As Sukuna stumbled backwards, momentarily disoriented by the sudden onslaught, Satoru wasted no time. With a determined glint in his eyes, he surged forward, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye.

With a swift, fluid motion, Satoru launched a devastating barrage of blows, each strike delivered with pinpoint accuracy and unrivaled speed. His movements were a blur as he danced around Sukuna, his attacks relentless and unforgiving.

With each blow, Sukuna staggered further, his defenses crumbling under the relentless assault. Though he fought back with all the ferocity of a cornered beast, he found himself unable to match Satoru's skill and determination, especially after the fight you and him had previously.

Driven by a singular purpose, Satoru pressed on, his every movement a testament to his unwavering resolve. With each strike, he drew upon the depths of his power as he fought to protect you from harm. Each blow landed with the force of a thunderbolt, making it hard for Sukuna to keep pace.

Despite Sukuna's best efforts to retaliate, he found himself outmatched at every turn. Satoru's skill and precision were unmatched, his movements fluid and effortless as he danced around his adversary with a grace that belied his immense power.

As the battle raged on, the sheer intensity of their clash threatened to tear the very fabric of reality asunder.

Sukuna seized upon a moment of opportunity, launching a devastating counterattack that caught Satoru off guard. With a brutal blow, he sent Satoru reeling backwards, his defenses breached in a moment of vulnerability.

Satoru staggered, momentarily stunned by the force of the blow. In that fleeting instant, Sukuna moved to deliver the final, fatal strike, his malevolent intent clear in his eyes.

But before he could land the killing blow, you felt a surge of determination welling up within you. You were not going to lose him…not again. With every ounce of strength you could muster, you rose to your feet, the pain and exhaustion fading into the background as you focused on the task at hand.

With a fierce cry, you threw yourself forward, placing yourself between Satoru and Sukuna with a protective instinct born of love and desperation. In that moment of selflessness, you summoned the last reserves of your power, creating a force field that enveloped both you and Satoru in a protective cocoon.

Sukuna's eyes widened in disbelief as he realized what you had done. With a snarl of rage, he launched himself at you, intent on breaking through your defenses and finishing what he had started.

But you stood firm, your resolve unshakeable as you summoned every ounce of power within you. With a final surge of energy, you unleashed a devastating blast that sent Sukuna hurtling backwards, his form disappearing into the distance.

As the dust settled and the chaos subsided, a tense silence descended upon the battlefield. The air stilled with anticipation as Sukuna, undeterred by his previous defeats, rose once more to confront you and Satoru.

With a feral snarl, Sukuna launched himself at you, his fury palpable as he sought to crush you both once and for all. But you and Satoru were ready, your determination unyielding as you braced yourselves for the final showdown.

With a silent exchange of understanding, you and Satoru moved as one, your movements fluid and synchronized as you launched a coordinated assault against Sukuna. Each blow landed with precision and purpose, driving Sukuna back with the sheer force of your combined power.

Amidst the chaos of battle, you and Satoru fought with a fierce determination born of desperation and resolve. With every strike, you drew upon the depths of your strength, putting everything into every blow as you sought to vanquish the malevolent spirit that threatened to destroy everything you held dear.

Sukuna's attacks grew more frenzied and unpredictable, his rage fueling his every move. But you and Satoru remained steadfast, your bond unbreakable as you fought side by side against the darkness that threatened to engulf you.

And finally, as Sukuna launched one final, desperate assault, you and Satoru seized upon the opportunity with a precision born of years of training and camaraderie. With a united effort, you unleashed a devastating barrage of attacks, overwhelming Sukuna with the sheer force of your combined power.

With one final, decisive blow, you and Satoru delivered the finishing blow, vanquishing the malevolent spirit once and for all.

As Sukuna's form dissolved into nothingness, the battlefield fell silent once more.

————

As everything began to settle and the chaos subsided, you felt the weight of exhaustion pressing down on you like a crushing weight. Every muscle in your body ached with fatigue, and you could feel the last vestiges of your strength slipping away.

Satoru’s voice cut through the haze of pain and exhaustion, his tone filled with concern and worry as he rushed to your side. With gentle hands, he caught you as you collapsed, cradling you in his arms with a tenderness that made your skin warm.

“Y/n,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he gazed down at you with worry etched into every line of his face.

You looked up into his beautiful and familiar eyes. The eyes you’ve been longing to see for so long now.

“‘Toru…” you whispered, his name a prayer on your lips as you reached out to touch his face, the sensation of his skin against yours sending a shiver of electricity coursing through your body. His hand met yours, his touch gentle and reassuring as he caressed your trembling fingers with his own.

“How? How are you here?” you asked, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper as you struggled to make sense of the miracle unfolding before you.

Toru’s smile was like a beacon of light in the darkness, his eyes shining with love and adoration as he looked down at you with unwavering affection.

“Oh, come on now, baby,” he chuckled, his voice filled with warmth and affection as he leaned in closer to you. “Did you really think that old geezer could actually get rid of me? I told you from the beginning. I’d win~”

His words were like a balm to your wounded soul, filling you with a sense of hope and joy that you thought you’d lost forever. And as you looked down to see the scars on his abdomen, a testament to the trials he’d faced, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of gratitude and love for the man standing before you.

“And maybe I got some help from Shoko,” he added, his tone playful as he joked about the assistance he’d received from his friend. But beneath the lighthearted banter, you could sense the depth of his gratitude for the support he’d received. Tears began to fall down your face and Toru frowned, leaning down to kiss them away.

”It’s okay, baby. Everything is alright now.” He whispered softly. You wrapped your arms around him, hiding your face in his neck. He lifted you up and sat you down on his lap, wrapping his arms around you as well, kissing your neck.

”I missed you so much.” You said, your voice breaking with each word.

You pulled away from his neck so that you could look at his face.

”When I found out you had lost to Sukuna, I felt my whole body give out. I felt so much anger and regret. Not because of Sukuna…but because I lost you. I never even got to say I love you one last time. Never got to kiss you one last time. All I could think about was you, ‘Toru. I felt so much regret when I would lay in our bed, cook in our kitchen, sit on our couch, realizing that I most likely would never get to see your face again.” I spoke, tears starting to well up in his eyes.

He cupped your face in his hands, his touch gentle and tender as he gazed into your eyes with unwavering devotion.

”I know, my love. And I’m sorry any of this happened in the first place. Believe me when I say I wish I could take it all back so that we’d never have to go through that. I can’t imagine how hard it was for you.” He spoke, kissing your temples softly.

“All that matters is that you’re back now. And I’m never losing you again.” You spoke to him with a faint smile on your face, making him chuckle.

“Trust me, baby. You don’t need to worry about that at all. I’m by your side for eternity.” He said, making you chuckle.

“And as for that kiss…Well, now you get to do all of that right now~” He said, pulling you in for a long awaited kiss. You kissed him back with equal fervor, holding onto him for dear life, scared that somehow, someway, he would be gone in an instant.

But there he was, holding you in his arms, not letting you go for one second. Your lips moved in perfect sync, as though they were meant for each other alone. Your hearts raced with longing and passion, fuelled by the deep yearning you both shared. After a moment, you two broke the kiss, smiling at one another. Toru placed his forehead on yours as you looked into each other's eyes.

”I love you, Y/n soon to be Gojo.” He teased a bit, making you chuckle

”I love you more, Satoru Gojo~”

______________________________

And everyone lived happily ever after! No one died! Everyone is still alive…yes. Alive! :)

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