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fhrlclln · 5 months ago

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underneath | qimir

SUMMARY -> ever since you found him and he trained you, he had always concealed his identity to you for his unknown reasons. you were always curious what he looks like underneath the cortosis helm he wears. though, this time the curiosity in you would be sated at last when a particular sparring session turns into an unexpected lesson in trust.

qimir x acolyte!fem! reader

masterlist

GENRE -> mild nsfw/smut

WARNINGS -> unprotected p in v, sexual tension, mild violence, master/pupil dynamic & smut is at the end : P

WC -> 2.82k

a/n: surprise! another qimir fic cuz i can’t get him out of my head.

likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreciated !! <3

enjoy !!

"have you ever wondered what he looks like underneath that mask?"

you asked your fellow pupil, mae, one day out of the blue. the particular reason for asking that question had always been because of your undying curiosity for the years you started to train under him.

your masked master.

"i don't." mae would answer, saying that she doesn't care what he would look like underneath the mask. saying that as long as he trains her, his identity doesn't matter to her. you understood her with that, she was his acolyte first and it probably dawned upon you that the years of concealing his identity to her she had thrown away the curiosity of what their master looked like.

but on the other hand, you, you somehow couldn't stop wondering.

you had found him or- he had found you when you were escaping your slave captors after your own sister had betrayed you in selling you to them. you were angry, in rage and unaware of the dormant power that had awoken in you with that rage you had felt. and in your fit of rage, you had managed to slaughter two of the captors chasing you, leaving you feeling guilty for your horrendous actions. you decided to escape and flee the planet. that is until by some chance, you had come across the masked stranger in the middle of the night who had told you about the gift you possessed, telling that you shouldn't be ashamed you used it in your self-defense.

and that's when he had took you under his wing, training you as his pupil.

he had taught you what your gift was, what your power is. he trained you, taught you and for the most part, despite him putting this distance between you and mae, he had helped you. and maybe that’s why you’re so curious to know who he is really, you wanted to see the master who had graciously accepted you despite you knowing your connection with the force was not as strong as mae’s.

he was… well, you could not really put a strong opinion on what kind of a man your master was. for the most part, he was always away and in training sessions, he was closed-off and distant. but when he spars with you and mae, that’s when a hint of his personality is peeking through.

rough, aggressive, strict. the way he spared with you had left you with tired sore knees and bruised arms when defending. on the offensive attacks you made he was quick to dodge and maneuver himself with your predictable attacks. he was ruthless in his combat but there was still that fluidity in it. but you knew he still held back with you despite the aggressiveness. you wished he had put more effort in your sparring sessions just like mae’s but you knew he was focusing more on her since she was at the brink of completing her lessons.

“safe travels, mae.” you wish her luck as she nods at you. the master had given her final lesson- to kill a jedi without a weapon. you were proud of your fellow acolyte but it did upset you how much you were falling behind. the waves splash in the background as you watch her walk to her ship. you wave her off as you saw it fly out the cloudy atmosphere then jumped into hyperspace, on the course to euda.

the sea breeze helps you gather your thoughts, and you wonder if the master would train you further today. seeing that mae had to learn this lesson by herself. sensing him, you feel the pull of the force as you turn around to see your master standing a few feet away from you.

the scene makes you remember that night when you found him. for a moment it did frighten you to see him loom over you when you fell to your knees from running. you were injured then and you had momentarily thought he was one of the slave traders that was trying to capture you. it took you a while to get used to him being like this when he appears out of the blue. well, for a random person, it would seem frightening to see a masked stranger dressed in black robes suddenly appear in mid-air. plus the saber tucked in his belt.

“master.” you greet him, anticipation lingering inside you.

“we shall continue your training today, my acolyte.” his modulated voice says. you feel your chest swell with excitement as you nodded. “be prepared.”

“of course, master.” you bowed slightly as he walks off to where the sparring lessons usually are. you smiled to yourself, maybe this time he’d finally put more effort in your training as you walk with a slight spring in your steps.

・゜゜・．

“focus.”

he says as your feet scraped against the rocks at his force push. you huff, your chest heaving, your leather tunic is starting to stick on your glistening sweaty skin, making you feel uncomfortable. you sigh, frustrated how you were not landing a single blow on him. your mind was elsewhere, seeming that you are still focused on wondering what he looks like underneath that mask.

“use that frustration. focus on your emotions.” he commands and you composed yourself, swatting the questions of his unknown face in your head. you ready yourself in a fighting stance, body facing to the side while you wave your arm in front of you. you clenched your fist for a moment as you heed into his words and attack. you use the force to heighten your leap towards him as you land a blow but he dodges again. an uppercut, he doges, a kick you do he dodges again. you feel yourself get even more irritated but in ease that he was finally not holding back when he blocks one of your blows with his arm.

but still, you were still not fighting the way he has to expect you to fight.

“you are too trustful in me, acolyte.” he scolds you, the modulated tone ringing. he backs away from you as you stopped, confused. yes, you indeed trust him, why was it a bad thing?

“i beg your pardon, master?” your breaths are labored and somehow from the close distance, you could hear him sigh underneath the mask.

“you are too trustful.” he says again. “do not trust me that i will not kill you even if i am training you. trust in yourself. we cannot continue this lesson if you do not learn to do that.” a chill runs through your spine at his words. there’s a slight pang of hurt in those words of his that were true. yes, he could kill you. why wouldn’t he if you failed him? you seem to stiffen at his words as he reminds you again, this time he will take the offensive attack.

“trust is a fragile thing. you cannot trust anyone but yourself, my acolyte. even if the person has sworn to trust you, they would eventually betray you. but yourself? you cannot betray yourself.” he explains as you nodded at his words. “when since you had put your whole trust in someone and they betrayed you in the end?”

you look at him, rage starting to boil in you when you remembered your own sister’s betrayal. your chest tightens and your mind is enraged with it. the pain she had put you in, the survival you had to do, the running you had to tire and the people you had to kill just to be free-

“there it is.” he says, proud. feeling your ever glowing rage.

“now, focus.” he suddenly attacks you as you dodged swiftly. both of you move in a tandem, as if it were a dance. the painful realization that even your master, the one who saved you and took you in, would eventually might betray you as well. the rage in you is at its boiling point as you let out a guttural scream when he almost aims for your neck. you push him back with your force then surging to him with heat in your steps as you attacked. he blocks your powerful blow with two of his arms forming an x. you kick him immediately on the stomach and he lurches, caught off guard.

you were too in to your emotions as you attacked and attacked. he tries to doge and block your every hit but he eventually succumbs to your rage when you finally kicked him to the ground. before he could stand, you immediately come on top of him, preventing that. you fist the collar of his robe, clenched hand in the air ready to land a final punch-

“excellent, my acolyte.” he cuts you off as you suddenly blink back into your rational self. you let go of his collar and you let yourself relax but ultimately surprised how close you are to him. you’re on top of him, your legs caging his waist and he seems not to dismiss you to get off. you can see clearly his helmet now, it was full of marks of previous battles. you take your time to admire him beneath you, how his adam’s apple bob and the sheen of sweat covering his bare muscular arms that were bulging with veins.

you blush, realizing you were staring at your master with ill thoughts.

but… the curiosity of what he looks like underneath it makes you wonder. your hand slowly comes up to his helmet and you feel him watch you with every move you make. he observes silently and you hovered your hand above his masked face. but you snap out of it again, realizing you could have offended him. and he could kill you for this. you know he takes great lengths to conceal his identity.

“a-apologies, master, i-“ before you could retract your hand and get off him. his hand suddenly grips your wrist. your eyes widened as he sits up and you adjust, hovering above his lap. he tilts his head to the side inquisitively, as if he was amused to see your curiosity be revealed. you stay quiet, staring at his masked face, waiting for his words. your cheeks are hot and you feel the anticipation grow in you. he places your hand on the side of his mask, the way he brushes your fingers softly makes you feel wobbly now.

“go on.” he merely says. you stutter, not knowing what to say. did he just agreed for you to remove his mask? your thoughts are jumbled but you succumb to your curiosity. you put both of your hands to both sides of his masked face. you slowly remove it inch by inch whilst you stared at the peaking facial features you have longed imagined what he looked like. you remove the helm completely and your heart skips a beat.

your eyes meet with a strangely beautiful dark ones.

his black hair is disheveled, his skin is smooth and his jawline is handsomely well chiseled. your eyes roam his face and it settles to his pink lips. you feel a hum of arousal between your legs when you look into his eyes again. his face is so close to yours that you can feel his hot breath tingle your lips. you put his helmet down to your side as the other brushes the black locks of his concealing his face. his pupils grow dark, your lips are inches to his and you somehow feel in-trance to lock it with yours.

this, this is the face of your master.

he’s beautiful. you think as you let out a noise when his other hand brush against your thigh. the other gently grips your hand that brushed his hair. you wondered why he had hidden his beautiful face from you and mae.

“master…” you plead as he smirks and it makes you blush.

“you did good today.” his low voice with a rasp of approval instead of the modulated one made your stomach churn and your thighs clench. the way his lips are still hovering above yours makes your head dizzy with the anticipation of what he’s doing. his top lip brushes against yours and he leans forward but before you could feel his soft lips lock with yours, you pull back. this is wrong.

“apologies, master.” you place your hands on his chest as you pulled yourself up to your feet. he seems taken aback for a moment with your rejection but composes himself as he eyes you up with a dark glint in his eyes.

“curiosity is normal. don’t be embarrassed.” he chuckles and that rings through your ears. the way he acts now is dissimilar to when he has his mask on and it baffles you how human he now is. you don’t know what to say, fearing that you have failed him in almost every way. you watch him stand up then grabbed his helmet and he looks at you. something in his gaze shines with hunger.

“we’ll continue our lesson another time.” he walks pass you and the brush of his arm against yours makes your heart jump.

“yes, master.” the initial shock of the situation still hasn’t faded when he’s out of your sight. you gulp, sweat dripping down your forehead. was he not upset that you know his face now? would he kill you for it later perhaps? those questions hang in the air. your heart still beats remembering his lips close to yours. you turn back, walking back to the shore, there’s a feeling you can’t seem to place as you let your thoughts linger on your master’s revealed face.

・゜゜・．

you dry your face with a rag then pulled a fresh tunic and bottoms from your pile of fresh clean robes. the dimness of the light inside your room in the cave made it comforting for your wild thoughts. you put on the brown tight bottoms then the grey tunic. but those thoughts soon come alive when you felt a presence near the entrance of your room.

you turn around swiftly, seeing your master standing right by the concave opening of your room. no mask on but just wearing… perfectly normal clothing. he dawned a white tunic and usual black bottoms, his hair is slicked back, damp from his bath you presumed. you stand awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do. you were used to his mysterious persona.

“you did exceptionally well today.” he begins with a praise. “but, i am surprised how focused you are on knowing what i look like.”

“thank you.” you merely say, eyes shying away when he points out your curiosity. “i apologize for that, master.”

“don’t be.” he steps forward and each step he takes has an anticipation behind them. you stay in your place, taking in how comforting he looks. “i’m glad for your curiosity.” he confesses.

“you are?” you are surprised with that.

qimir nods, adoring the way you seemed so surprised. he had his reasons for concealing his identity to you and mae. it was for to create a distance between the master and pupil. he feared attachment might overcome why he took you under his wing. he knows you already saw him as a person who finally cared for you and in truth, he does. you are a gifted woman with the force and over the years despite the distance he placed, you managed to crawl into his cold heart.

“but i fear your curiosity isn’t sated enough.” he points out and the atmosphere in the room changes. you know what he means. when you had almost kissed him but you hesitated, fearing that things might change drastically after that. he was your master after all. he steps closer to you, the distance is just like the one moments ago.

“am i right?” he asks when you stare at his lips. you wondered if mae would be enraged for what you are about to do as your body moved at its own accord.

you surge forward and lock your lips with his.

and that ends up with you sprawled underneath him. your curiosity is sated and he rewards you more with a thrust of his hips with his cock inside you. you clench around him, your hands caressing the width of his broad back. here you are, your naked body pressed against his as you moan in his ear. he groans, suckling the soft flesh of your neck.

“master…” you sigh, legs wrapped around tight on his waist. his hands are holding your thighs in place as he thrusts his cock into your warm heat. he locks eyes with your heavy one and it makes him soar at the feeling of you wrapped around him. he smirks as he kisses you hotly as he grinds his hips down.

your curiosity indeed was successfully sated by him.

#qimir x reader #qimir #qimir x fem!reader #qimir smut #the stranger x reader #the stranger #manny jacinto #the acolyte #fnhrlcllnwrites

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kingofbodyrolls · 7 months ago

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Till We Meet Again (m) | jjk

When your childhood friend that you had a crush on, moved away out of the blue— you never thought you’d see him again. A night swim in the ocean will have you feeling delusional, but the voice that fills your ears— sweet like cotton candy, you’d recognize that voice anywhere, it’s Jungkook.

→ Pairing: jungkook x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au → Trope: childhood friends to lovers → Genres: romcom, smut, nostalgia, and so much fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 11.4k → Warnings (general) + triggers: Jungkook’s first time (he is not a virgin lol, but it’s his first time with a human, so), this one is actually pretty mild, bordering on vanilla. There’s talk about how merfolk do it 👀 This is just crack fantasy okay, please don’t take it seriously! There’s some small pov changes in here, because, well, it just happened, lol. → Warnings (explicit): protected sex, oral (both male and female), hair pulling, multiple orgasms, nipple play/sucking, a little bit of dirty talk, begging, pleasing. → Taglist: @allie-is-a-panda @jeonsbabygirlsworld → Read on AO3! → Author��s note: happy birthday to my sweet and lovely friend Lua (@letjungcoook7) 🥳 I wrote this story for you as a present. I know you’re not that much into fantasy, but when I told you about my mermaid ideas, you were excited 🤭 So this first one is for you bby ✨ I really hope you like it, also that everyone else does!

[s.masterlist] → this is part of a collection of series that are stand-alone one-shots, but all of them are set in the same universe. They are slightly connected though 🤭

The rain begins to pour as Jungkook grips your hand, his touch both delicate and powerful, guiding you through the sudden downpour. Moments ago, you were laughing and playing at the local playground, unaware that Mother Nature was about to drench the world in her unexpected shower.

Your heart pounds in your chest and echoes in your ears as you race to keep up with Jungkook, a wide smile spreading across your face. For an eight-year-old, he’s pretty damn fast, making every step feel like a thrilling challenge.

He’s sprinting down familiar streets, and you quickly realize he’s heading towards your home. You’ve never seen his house or met his parents, but your own parents adore Jungkook, joking that he’s your future husband. You’re not thinking that far ahead—you’re just a child, after all. Yet, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a fondness for him.

Let’s be honest, you have the biggest crush on the sweet boy with the round face and big doe eyes that seem too large for his tiny head. His nose is adorable, and his teeth only add to his charm. In short, you love everything about him, even his occasional unreasonable moments. But when he pouts, sticking out his bottom lip in that irresistibly cute way, your heart completely melts.

Your house comes into view, but instead of heading inside, he veers into your backyard, leading you towards the hidden playhouse nestled among the bushes and small trees.

“Shouldn’t we get inside where it’s dry?” you ask, bewilderment etched across your face as you finally reach the playhouse. He crouches down and gently pulls you inside, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“No, we’ll be safe here,” he assures you, sitting down with his legs tucked under him. He bites his lip softly, a hint of nervousness flickering in his eyes.

“We should go inside; I don’t want either of us to catch a cold,” you mumble, settling beside him and feeling the warmth of his body next to yours. Despite not feeling chilled yet, you know it’s risky to stay out in wet clothes. It’s autumn, and although the air still holds a lingering warmth, you’re aware that it won’t last long.

“Let’s just stay here for a moment, okay?” he pleads, his eyes wide and his signature pout in full effect. You find yourself unable to resist—after all, who could say no to that adorable face?

For a few minutes, you sit there side by side, listening to the sky weep as rain patters softly on the roof of the playhouse. A few droplets sneak inside, but it hardly matters.

Jungkook suddenly turns to you, his expression unreadable— sadness flickers across his features, his normally warm brown eyes darkening to near-black in the dim light. His smile vanishes, replaced by a somberness that seems to weigh heavily on him. You can’t help but wonder what has shifted, why he’s undergone this sudden transformation in demeanor.

“___. Promise me you’ll never forget me?”

His eyes widen with earnestness, pleading like a puppy’s, and both of his hands seek yours, holding on as if afraid of being forgotten.

Emotions swirl in those hazel eyes, a tumultuous sea of feelings you struggle to decipher. You long to grasp his thoughts, to understand why he’s broaching the topic of forgetting him. But the idea is unfathomable to you; forgetting him seems as impossible as forgetting your own name.

Something shimmers in his eyes—what, you can’t quite discern. They resemble an ocean, deep and mysterious, where one could easily lose themselves if they stared for too long.

“Forget you? Kookie, what on earth are you talking about?” your eyes widen in disbelief, searching his face for any hint of understanding, but finding only confusion.

“It’s just... I like you a lot, and,” he murmurs, stumbling over his words, his hands fidgeting nervously with yours. Then, lifting his gaze to meet yours, he adds with a touch of vulnerability, “I’ll never forget you. You mean the world to me, ___. You’re my friend.”

With a warm smile and a gentle chuckle, you reply, “Duh, silly. Of course you’ll never forget me! And I’ll never forget you either. Now, can we please go inside?”

Jungkook smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as it usually does, leaving a lingering unease in the pit of your stomach. It feels like a storm is brewing within you, mirroring the turbulent weather outside.

“Just promise me. We’ll never forget each other, no matter what,” he implores, his voice firm and unwavering, his eyes reflecting the solemnity of his words.

He clasps your hand with his own, seeking out your pinky finger.

“Pinky promise?” he asks, his eyes earnest, holding onto your gaze with a mix of hope and determination.

Your eyes flicker with a rapid dance of confusion and amusement. Despite the chaos of the moment, a smile spreads across your face, its warmth seeming to dissolve his frown and alleviate his frazzled state.

“Okay. Pinky promise,” you affirm, intertwining your pinky finger with his, sealing the pact with a vow that feels as timeless as eternity.

You never laid eyes on Jungkook after that—well, you did both retreat indoors, your mother showering Jungkook with love and sweet treats he adored. But after that day, twenty long years ago, he vanished from your life out of the blue, leaving only memories behind.

Why you’re thinking about him now, you really don’t know. Yet, just as he once asked of you, you’ve never let go of his memory—a part of you still holds onto the hope that he might reappear, surprising you around some unsuspecting corner, as if he never left. But with each passing day, the likelihood of such serendipity grows fainter, like the receding tide of the deep blue ocean.

Maybe it’s the nostalgia stirred by your recent home purchase by the sea that brings back memories of your childhood crush. The vast expanse of the ocean triggers thoughts of his eyes—not because of their color, but the way they used to glimmer, reflecting the light with a sparkle that danced like sunbeams on water.

Long strolls on the beach prove therapeutic, gradually pushing thoughts of your childhood crush to the recesses of your mind. With each step along the sandy shores, you uncover treasures—seashells, smoothed by the relentless embrace of the waves, and other mementos of seaside serenity.

You truly love the beach, which is why you chose to buy a house so close to the shore. It’s not just because the ocean reminds you of a certain childhood friend you wish you could see again. His sudden departure has always baffled you—sometimes you wonder what really happened.

Was he kidnapped, or did he simply leave without a word?

Why would he vanish without telling you first, especially if he just had to move?

It’s after dinner, and you find yourself lounging on your terrace, gazing out at the ocean. The view is breathtaking, and when the wind blows just right, the salty breeze gently caresses your skin. You smile a wistful smile as you raise your glass to your lips. Today is a red wine day; despite the heat, the perfectly chilled glass complements the warmth of the evening air.

With your legs propped up on the lounge chair, reclined for maximum comfort, you gaze out at the vast expanse of the sea. You can’t help but wonder about the treasures and secrets it holds, a mysterious world teeming with countless species you’ve never even heard of that call it home.

Mankind has long tried to conquer the world beneath the waters, yet the pitch-black depths of the ocean remain largely unexplored, beyond the reach of even the best diving gear. Though you’re no diver, the allure of the sea’s hidden secrets captivates you, and you dream of one day uncovering its mysteries.

A sweet, velvety sound caresses your ears, prompting you to sit up and listen more closely. The enchanting melody wraps around you, and you realize it’s a voice—someone is singing.

God, it sounds beautiful—captivating, sweet, and strong, yet tinged with sorrow. The melody weaves its way into your soul, leaving you spellbound.

For a moment, you wonder if it’s all in your head—a fleeting hallucination brought on by too much wine. But a glance at your glass and the nearly full bottle beside you confirms you’ve barely finished your first glass.

The voice is real, and it carries an eerily familiar tone. Intrigued, you rise from your comfortable lounge chair and make your way down to the sandy beach that has been your backyard for the past few days.

Your bare feet sink into the warm, fine sand, its texture caressing your skin. You glance around, searching for the source of the beautiful voice, but the beach remains empty, with no one in sight.

There it is again—the singing, so achingly beautiful that it sends shivers down your spine and raises the hair on your arms. Your feet carry you along the shoreline, but despite your efforts, you can’t pinpoint the source of the enchanting voice.

Then, just as you’ve been pacing up and down the shoreline, the voice abruptly vanishes—quiet as a still puddle after a rain shower. With a strange unease settling in your gut, you reluctantly turn back toward home. The voice felt hauntingly familiar, yet somehow elusive—like a distant memory struggling to resurface.

For the past few days, the hauntingly beautiful voice has serenaded you night after night, drawing you out to the beach in search of its mysterious owner. Despite your efforts, luck eludes you, and each failed attempt leaves you with a sense of frustration, reminiscent of the pout Jungkook used to give you whenever you were being unreasonable with him.

Your frustration mounts as the elusive voice continues to evade you, its hauntingly familiar tone persistently tugging at the corners of your mind.

Frustration coursing through your veins, you slip into your bikini, determined to quell the restlessness with a night swim in your aquatic backyard.

As the sand caresses your feet, you stroll down to the shoreline under the watchful gaze of the moon, its ethereal glow casting a mesmerizing sheen upon the water. The scene is nothing short of magical, and as the lukewarm water embraces your skin, a delightful chill courses through your body—not from the cold, but from the familiar embrace of your second home. The ocean has always held a special place in your heart, and in this moment, it feels like a sanctuary away from the world.

Surrendering to the embrace of the water, you allow its gentle currents to envelop you, cradling you in its soft embrace as you yield to its rhythmic sway. With only your head above the surface, you venture further into the depths, relishing the sensation of weightlessness and freedom that comes with each stroke.

A soft, melodic sound tickles your ear—it’s that captivating voice again! This time, it resonates clearer, as if drawing you in closer. Driven by curiosity, you swim towards the source of the sound, your heart pounding with anticipation. As you approach a cluster of rocks and a looming cliffside, you spy a cave nestled within its embrace, beckoning you with its mysterious allure.

The cave envelops you in darkness, yet the gentle glow of the full moon dances upon the water, casting an ethereal light that transforms the rocky surface of the cliff into glistening crystals. The voice reverberates off the walls, its echoes amplifying its haunting melody. Drawing closer, you discern a figure resting their head upon a rock, their silhouette illuminated by the moon’s gentle caress.

Intrigued, you inch closer, your curiosity piqued. As you approach, you discern the figure of a man, likely around your age, or perhaps a bit younger, reclining against the stone, his body partially obscured by its shadowy embrace.

“Hello?” you call out, your voice echoing softly in the cave. Instantly, a pair of dark brown eyes fixate on yours, their intensity sending a shiver of recognition down your spine.

As you hear something splashing nearby, you swiftly swim to the corner of the cave. Pulling yourself up onto the rocky surface, you cast an inquisitive gaze at the stranger, who remains silent, their expression enigmatic.

“Are you okay?” you inquire, met with silence as the man attempts to retreat, concealing more of his body beneath the murky depths, leaving you to wonder what secrets lie hidden beneath the surface.

You approach cautiously, taking slow, measured steps, careful not to startle the man. His features are striking—sharp, chiseled jawline, eyes wide and intense, lips full yet thin, and a cute nose that triggers a flood of memories from long ago, memories that have never faded.

“Jungkook?” you gasp, the name escaping your lips like a sudden gust of wind, stirring a whirlwind of emotions within you—happiness and hurt colliding like waves crashing against the shore, overwhelming you in their tumultuous embrace.

The man cautiously peers over the rock, his bare torso partially shielded from view. The sight of him shirtless prompts a flurry of questions in your mind—why is he here, and why is he without a shirt?

Is that a sleeve of tattoos on his right arm?

You can’t help but notice the strength in his neck, the prominent veins tracing a path down to his defined clavicle and broad shoulders. Damn it you really shouldn’t, but you find yourself shamelessly admiring his physique, a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks.

“___?” His voice breaks the silence, light and airy, reminiscent of a summer breeze whispering through the leaves.

“Is it really you?” you inquire, lowering yourself to sit in front of him, your gaze sweeping over his features once more. His face holds a striking resemblance to someone from your past, now matured with the passage of time. Yet, those deep, familiar ocean eyes leave no doubt—it’s unmistakably Jungkook.

“Yes, it’s me,” he confirms, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. The boyish charm of his smile clashes with the maturity reflected in his sharp features, creating a captivating contrast.

“What are you doing here?” you inquire, a mix of surprise and curiosity evident in your voice. The sight of him in this cave, serenading the darkness with his song, leaves you utterly bewildered.

“Just taking a breather,” he chuckles, his gaze shamelessly roaming over your form, sending a subtle shiver down your spine.

“Hold on a second,” you exclaim, frustration tinged with urgency in your voice as you scratch your head in bewilderment. “What brings you here? You vanished without a trace. What happened?”

Another splash in the water draws your attention, and you track the sound to behind Jungkook—then, you spot it: the tail. It’s a mesmerizing shade of purple, with delicate variations of violet shimmering in the moonlit cave. The translucent fins catch the light as they sway gracefully. The scales, rough and scaly, add to the otherworldly beauty of him.

Your jaw nearly hits the rocky surface—if it could, it surely would. You gaze, utterly transfixed, at the figure before you—your childhood friend, now revealed as a mermaid. No, a merman. The revelation leaves you reeling. How is this possible? You’ve heard of undiscovered species lurking beneath the waters, but this is your friend, someone you’ve known for years with two perfectly functional feet and no hint of a scaly tail.

“___,” he begins, his voice filled with warmth and genuine curiosity. “It’s been such a long time. How have you been?” His eyes radiate happiness, but you’re still reeling from the revelation before you. Seeing him again—something you’ve dreamt about for years—leaves you speechless.

“No,” you assert firmly, a rush of urgency in your tone. “You don’t get to ask questions yet. There are so many things I need answers to from you first.” Determined, you attempt to peer over the rock he’s perched on, desperate for a closer look at the astonishing sight before you—your childhood friend now bearing a tail, a reality that defies all logic.

“Alright, fire away,” he responds, a hint of amusement dancing in his voice. “But give me a moment to settle in.” With a graceful movement, he hoists himself out of the water, his biceps flexing as he perches on the rock, his tail lazily swaying in the water. Bathed in the soft glow of the cave, his majestic purple tail shimmers, leaving you in awe of his breathtaking beauty.

He seems big and broad shouldered, the tattoos look intricate, reflecting ancient scribbles and drawings on his arm.

You plop down on the rugged surface, your mind reeling with disbelief—it all feels like a surreal dream. Unable to resist, you extend your hand to touch him, as if to confirm his reality. Your index finger tentatively prods his cheek before trailing down to his chest. The moment your touch meets his pecs, you’re met with a jolt of realization—his muscles are firm, real, and undeniably tangible beneath your fingertips, sending a surge of heat through your veins as you inadvertently find yourself groping his impeccable chest.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his eyes darting from your hand on his chest back to your face. Embarrassment floods your cheeks with a deep crimson as the realization of your actions hits you. You’ve been feeling the solid warmth of his chest, lost in the surreal moment.

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry!” you blurt out, yanking your hand back as if it’s been scorched. “I didn’t mean to touch you like that!” Embarrassment floods through you, your heart racing as you pull away from the unexpected intimacy.

Damn it, get a grip, you chastise yourself silently. “I just wanted to make sure this is real,” you confess aloud, your voice trembling slightly with lingering disbelief.

You release a nervous chuckle, the sound betraying the disbelief still coursing through you. But as you take in the surreal sight before you—Jungkook, undeniably real and impossibly transformed—you can no longer deny the truth. Your childhood friend is here, right in front of you, and he is, astonishingly, a merman.

“Oh, this is very real,” he teases, his voice rich and layered with an enigmatic quality that you can’t quite decipher but are desperate to understand.

“Are you really a merman?” you ask, your gaze drifting back to his tail, mesmerized by its iridescent beauty. It’s breathtaking, almost otherworldly.

He nods, a soft smile playing on his lips, his eyes glimmering with a wistful nostalgia that tugs at your heartstrings.

“What happened to you? Why did you leave?” you demand, the urgency in your voice revealing the depth of your longing and confusion. These are the questions that have haunted you for years, the ones you swore you’d ask if you ever saw him again. Why did he disappear without a word, leaving you behind?

You watch as his expression shifts, becoming more guarded. “My parents and I had to move back home... to the ocean, I mean,” he explains, his face twitching as if struggling to mask an inner pain. “A rift in a tectonic plate devastated my village. Everything was destroyed, so we had to return and help rebuild.”

You study him closely, a lump forming in your throat as a myriad of emotions swirl within you.

“Okay. But why couldn’t you come back when you were done?” you inquire, your voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and hurt. It’s apparent that there are unresolved feelings of abandonment lingering within you, a reminder of the wounds you may need to address with your therapist.

“I really wanted to, but my parents and the village elders forbade it. We dedicated ourselves to rebuilding our village, but returning to the surface was strictly prohibited,” he explains, a palpable sadness tinting his words. It’s evident that he had yearned to reunite with you, but the weight of his responsibilities as a merman ultimately kept him bound to the depths of the ocean.

“Why are you here now? And are there others like you?” you inquire, a mix of bewilderment and intrigue coloring your tone. As you press for more information, you notice him visibly relax, his features softening once again in response to your curiosity.

“Well, I’ve been here for quite a while. I come up here to sing, often thinking of you, actually,” he confesses, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. “And yes, there are others like me,” he adds with a chuckle, the sound carrying a mixture of amusement and friendly banter.

“Thinking of me?” you stammer in amazement, your voice barely above a whisper as the weight of his words settles in.

“Yeah. I’ve missed you since I had to leave, and I’ve been searching for you for years. Meeting you again feels like a dream come true,” he confesses, his voice filled with palpable joy at the reunion with a long-lost friend. His words send a surge of warmth through you, igniting a flutter of emotions you thought long buried. As your heart skips a beat, you’re struck by the realization that the childhood crush you harbored for him still lingers, stronger than ever.

“I’ve missed you too,” you exhale, your voice barely above a whisper, heavy with emotion. With a gentle touch, you extend your hand, laying it atop his on the rough surface of the rock, a silent reassurance of your enduring bond.

“How come you’re a merman? You were just a boy last time I saw you…” you begin, not really knowing how to ask the question that you have swirling in your mind.

“You want to know if something happened to me, to make me like this,” he gestures with his other hand over his body— it’s well defined, muscles big and strong, “or if I’d always been a merman?” His words hang in the air, a poignant reminder of the mysteries surrounding his transformation.

You choke on air with how effortlessly he articulates your thoughts, a skill he’s always possessed. You nod in agreement, the intensity of your curiosity driving you to lean in closer, desperate to unravel the enigma of his transformation.

“I’ve always been a merman. My parents chose to live as humans— they’re merfolk too, by the way. But they wanted me to experience life on land. So, despite appearances, I’ve always been like this,” he explains, a smile gracing his lips as he playfully flips his tail in the water, sending ripples dancing in his wake.

“How… How do you transform?” you ask, studying him intently once more. Despite his remarkable change, he still retains that familiar essence, stirring up the remnants of the childhood crush you thought you’d outgrown. A flush of warmth creeps across your cheeks, betraying the intensity of your emotions.

“Well. When I’m out of water for an extended period, I assume my human form. And when I’m in contact with water, I revert to my merman form,” he explains, a soft smile gracing his lips. As his fingers intertwine with yours, his touch is tender, each stroke a gentle caress that ignites a spark of warmth within you.

You nod, absorbing his explanation, but then you gasp as his words sink in, a realization dawning on you. “Do you transform when it rains then?” you blurt out, the question bursting forth with newfound urgency and curiosity.

His laughter fills the air, rich and unrestrained, sending ripples of warmth through your chest. Your gaze instinctively drifts to his chest, where the rhythmic movement of his pectorals accompanies the melody of his mirth, a captivating display of joy that you can’t help but revel in.

“No. That wouldn’t be very practical. It has to be seawater, or simply prolonged exposure to water can also do the trick,” he explains, his tone laced with a hint of amusement at the notion of rain-induced transformations.

You nod in understanding once more. “Nothing about this is practical, Jungkook,” you remark, a hint of incredulity lacing your tone.

He chuckles again, withdrawing his hand from yours and gently cupping your cheek. His touch sends a surge of warmth coursing through you, like a dormant ember suddenly ignited into a flickering flame, ready to blaze anew.

He locks eyes with you, his gaze unwavering and intense, brimming with depths of emotion that beckon you to explore. It’s like peering into an uncharted ocean, filled with mysteries waiting to be discovered. Despite the unfamiliarity, you’re drawn to dive deep and lose yourself in the depths of his gaze.

“Do you remember our promise?” he murmurs, his voice a gentle rumble, yet resolute. Seeking solace in the familiarity of your gaze, his words carry the weight of cherished memories and unspoken vows.

“Of course,” you respond with a bittersweet smile, lifting your hand and extending your pinky finger. “I’ve never forgotten you, Jungkook,” you affirm, the weight of years past and promises kept evident in your touch.

He hums a melody, its tune unfamiliar yet strangely soothing, and in that moment, you find solace in the sound of his voice, the melody a balm to your racing heart. “I’ve never forgotten you either, ___,” he confesses, his words carrying the weight of shared memories and enduring connection.

With his other hand, he reaches out, extending his pinky finger to intertwine with yours, creating a connection that feels like two worlds colliding, merging into one. It’s a moment of transcendence, where past and present converge, binding you both in a promise that spans the depths of time.

“I never got to tell you this on that day, and it has haunted me since, but I like you,” His words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken truths and a vulnerability that echoes through your soul. As he gazes into your eyes, it feels like he’s peeling away layers of your being, leaving you exposed and vulnerable, despite the fabric that shields your skin. With each moment, he draws nearer, his touch a gentle anchor amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling between you.

“I like you too,” your confession hangs in the air, suspended between you like a delicate thread woven with anticipation and longing. With every word, you feel the weight of your emotions, amplified by the closeness of his presence. As your breath brushes against his skin, you can almost taste the bittersweet tang of desire mingled with the salt of the ocean breeze.

In his embrace, you feel cherished, cocooned in a world where only the two of you exist. His gaze, laden with affection, dances between the depths of your eyes and the soft curve of your lips, a silent symphony of desire. You catch the subtle flicker of his pupils as they dilate, mirroring the fluttering of your heart. A fleeting gesture, your tongue brushes against your lips, a subtle invitation to bridge the divide between longing and fulfillment.

In the hushed sanctuary of the moonlit cave, time seems to stretch into a languid dance, enveloping you both in its tender embrace. The world outside fades into a distant murmur, leaving only the rhythmic melody of your shared breaths echoing off the rocky walls. Your gaze descends to the plush pinkness of his lips, a tantalizing invitation begging to be explored. A surge of curiosity and desire courses through you, igniting a tempest of longing as you ponder the intoxicating possibility of tasting his kiss.

“Can I kiss you?” His question hangs in the air like a delicate promise, and you feel a rush of anticipation flooding your senses, the tension between you crackling like electricity. His words, soft yet laden with unspoken longing, send a tremor of excitement coursing through your veins. In that suspended moment, you find yourself caught in the irresistible pull of his gaze, his eyes a sea of swirling emotions mirroring your own. With a silent plea echoing in your heart, you grant him permission with a subtle nod, your breath hitching in anticipation as you yearn for the moment when his lips will meet yours.

His tattooed hand, warm and possessive, slides from your cheek to the back of your neck with a gentle urgency, pulling you into him as if he’s afraid you might slip away. When his lips meet yours, it’s like a collision of stars, soft yet electric, igniting a wildfire of sensation that courses through your veins. As he pulls back, his eyes searching yours for any hint of discomfort, you’re overcome with a rush of warmth and affection. With a soft chuckle escaping your lips, you reach for him, fingers intertwining with the soft strands of his hair as you draw him closer. The second kiss is a revelation, a crescendo of desire and longing that leaves you breathless and craving more. His hum reverberates against your lips, grounding you in the intensity of the moment, like a lifeline in a sea of swirling emotions.

You draw back reluctantly, a sigh escaping your lips as you feel the bittersweet ache of parting. “It’s getting late,” you murmur, the weight of reality settling in as you remember your responsibilities waiting beyond the cave’s embrace.

“When will I see you again?” the question hangs between you like a delicate thread, woven with hope and uncertainty, longing for reassurance in the face of impending separation.

A mischievous glint dances in his eyes, and he licks his lips with a playful flick of his tongue, relishing the way your senses are all tangled up in a whirlwind of emotions—frazzled yet utterly blissed-out in his presence.

“Soon,” he assures with a reassuring smile, his touch lingering for a moment longer as his thumb caresses your lip, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. “You can always find me here, or just listen for my voice. But duty calls back home. I’ll return, I promise.” With that, he pulls away, releasing you from the spell of the moment, but leaving behind a promise that lingers in the air like the echo of his voice in the cave.

Reluctantly, you rise, dusting off imaginary particles from your skin with a sweep of your hands, lingering in the moment a bit longer. With a soft smile, you regard him, your eyes filled with a mixture of fondness and longing.

“You really have a beautiful voice, Jungkook,” you murmur, the words carrying a weight of sincerity and admiration, like a gentle breeze in the tranquil cave.

With a smile that seems to illuminate the entire cave, he gracefully immerses himself in the water, causing it to dance and ripple around him like liquid poetry in motion.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” you express, your voice tinged with a mixture of longing and affection, each word carrying the weight of the emotions you hold for him.

“I’ll be counting the moments until our paths cross again,” he murmurs softly, his words carrying on the gentle breeze as he fades into the depths below, leaving you with the lingering promise of his return.

Jungkook had indeed kept his word. Though you trusted him, a small part of you feared you’d never see him again. Yet, the very next day, he reappeared in the cave, serenading you with a song as you basked in his presence. This enchanting ritual has continued every day for the past two weeks, each encounter deepening your bond and making the fear of losing him fade away.

So far, your encounters have been limited to kisses, which you absolutely love—his lips are incredibly soft. Yet, lately, you’ve found yourself yearning for more. The stress of your upcoming housewarming party, which you’ve shared with Jungkook, isn’t helping. You think that letting loose with him might be just what you need to de-stress.

“Why are you having this party again if you don’t really want to?” he asks, genuinely curious. He can’t fathom why you’d willingly burden yourself with the hassle of pleasing others when it clearly brings you no joy.

“I guess it’s just expected of me,” you muse, looking down at the sparkling water as his tail gently plays with it, creating ripples. “My friends are coming, my parents too. They haven’t seen my new house yet.”

He smiles at you, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “It’s nice that you’re doing this for them, but it sounds like you’re forcing yourself. That makes me a bit sad.”

You shake your head and put up your hands in defense. “Yeah, but it’s okay. It’s not like I dislike it completely. It’ll be nice seeing my friends again.” You pause, a sudden idea lighting up your face.

“You could also come, you know?”

His face brightens momentarily, but then he slumps down in the water, looking a bit deflated. “I’d love to come, but I’m not sure I can. My hyungs need my help in the village; one of them has been missing for days, and we’ve been searching for him without luck…” His voice trails off, a mix of concern and disappointment etched on his face.

You feel a twinge of sadness for him and say softly, “I’m so sorry, Jungkook. I hope you find him soon. Just know you’re always welcome, no matter when.”

His smile returns, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes as he speaks. “Thanks. Jimin usually never wanders off, that’s why we’re afraid something has happened to him.”

You envelop him in a hug, offering what comfort you can, despite not knowing Jimin. You silently pray for Jimin’s swift return—after all, you understand more than most the ache of missing a piece of your heart.

A few days later, the soft strains of music fill your home, weaving through the laughter and chatter of old and new friends alike, and the comforting presence of your parents, whose faces you haven’t seen in what feels like an eternity.

As you mingle with your friends, catching up on stories and laughter, time seems to dance away unnoticed. It’s only when the gentle kiss of the evening breeze starts to nip at your skin that you realize how long you’ve been engrossed in conversation with your colleague out on the terrace. With a shared chuckle at the sudden chill, you both retreat inside, seeking the warmth of good company and lively conversations.

Her joke evokes laughter from you, but the moment is abruptly interrupted by her sudden silence, drawing your attention to where her finger points. In the kitchen, your parents stand, their faces alight with smiles, engaged in conversation with a tall, dark-haired man whose locks curl gently at the ends.

Her curiosity piques as she nudges you with a mischievous grin.

“Who’s that hot man with a tattooed arm over there talking with your parents?” she asks, her voice tinged with intrigue, prompting both of you to draw nearer to the kitchen.

As you draw closer, disbelief gives way to certainty: it’s unmistakably Jungkook standing beside your parents.

“___! You never mentioned Jungkook’s return! How long has it been, twenty years?” your mother exclaims, her smile radiant as she pinches Jungkook’s cheek affectionately, treating him like a long-lost child returned home.

Your dad’s eyes sparkle with the warmth of a long-awaited reunion, as if he’s just rediscovered an old friend, and you can’t help but chuckle at the scene unfolding before you.

Your mother reaches out to embrace Jungkook, her petite frame enveloped by his much larger one, but he indulges her with a warm hug, wrapping her in a comforting embrace.

With a playful grin, your friend nudges you, her eyes darting between you and Jungkook, a knowing glint sparkling in them. “Who is this handsome man?”

As you break from your reverie, you manage a sheepish grin, your voice carrying a hint of nostalgia and excitement. “This is Jungkook, my childhood friend. We go way back.”

“He’s hot,” your friend’s observation cuts through the air with a boldness that makes you chuckle, her eyes gleaming mischievously as she sizes up Jungkook.

Your mother’s laughter fills the room, a warm melody that dances around the air. “He really is! You’ve really outgrown that cute bunny phase you had,” she teases, her fingers playfully squeezing Jungkook’s rather impressive biceps.

“Mom! You’re embarrassing me,” you groan, a mixture of embarrassment and exasperation painting your voice as you reach for Jungkook’s hand, eager to escape the teasing clutches of both your parents and your friend.

As you pull him away, Jungkook chuckles softly, following you into the living room where you both sink into the inviting embrace of the couch.

Amidst the chatter filling the room, engaging in conversation with Jungkook proves challenging, his words often drowned out by the lively voices of others around you.

“Would you like to step out for a bit? Take a stroll along the beach?” he proposes, his gaze alight with anticipation, as if the idea itself holds a promise of something wonderful.

With a nod, you clasp his hand, a silent agreement passing between you. But before you step out into the night, you make a quick detour to your friend, informing her of your plans for a seaside stroll.

She scrutinizes you with the intensity of a hawk, then delves into her purse, emerging with something in hand. “Here,” she says, passing it to you.

“I have a feeling you might need this.”

You accept the small foil packet, its presence alone sending a jolt of recognition through you. Your cheeks and ears ignite with heat, and you hastily tuck it into your jeans pocket, your gratitude tinged with embarrassment. “Thanks,” you murmur, your voice slightly breathless.

As you begin to turn away, she shoots you a playful wink, causing you to release a sigh of embarrassment, your cheeks still flushed with color.

Outside, you stroll barefoot on the sand, reveling in the moment with Jungkook by your side—both of you connected to the earth beneath your feet. His presence captivates you, his figure tall and striking against the backdrop of the beach. Shoulder-length hair dances around his face, adding to his allure. With each step, you admire his physique—broad shoulders tapering to a defined waist, muscular thighs moving with purpose. Clad in a white tank top, his biceps speak of strength, while his snug blue denim jeans accentuate his powerful legs, showcasing a silhouette that commands attention.

His human form is undeniably beautiful, but it pales in comparison to the breathtaking splendor of his merman form. This realization brings a soft smile to your lips, and a blush warms your cheeks.

You walk with him along the beach, your hand nestled comfortably in his, the silence stretching between you like a warm blanket. It feels like an eternity before he clears his throat, a deep rumble that breaks the quiet. “Do you want to go to the cave?” he asks, his voice tinged with a hopeful anticipation.

You look up at him, captivated by the soft, teasing smile playing on his lips. “Yeah,” you agree, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest.

“Cool. I know a way to get there from land,” he says, pulling you along the shore. Your feet sink into the cool sand with each step, the waves gently lapping at your ankles as you follow him, while he makes an effort not to let the seawater touch him.

“You do? I thought it was only accessible from the sea,” you chuckle, feeling the excitement build as he leads you closer to the rocky formations along the cliffside.

“I know a lot of hiding spots,” he giggles, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes as he reveals a narrow, almost hidden entryway in the cliffside, just big enough for him to slip through.

You step into the familiar cliffside cave where you’ve been meeting for the past few weeks. Nestling into the small sandy patch, the only section not enveloped in stone, you feel a comforting sense of familiarity mixed with anticipation.

“Much easier to talk in here, huh?” Jungkook chuckles, leaning back against the cave wall. The gentle echo of his laughter fills the space, making it feel cozier. You nod, a soft, airy chuckle escaping your lips as a blush warms your cheeks. Sitting beside him, the intimacy of the cave amplifies every shared glance and whispered word.

You look up at him, your eyes fluttering bashfully. “I don’t really want to talk anymore,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, I thought you wanted to talk,” he says, his voice deflating as a pout forms on his lips. That’s when it hits you—he has no idea how much you crave him, how badly you want to feel him, everywhere.

You turn your body towards his, your hands caressing his face as you pull his face towards yours. “I want to do more than talk,” you quip, your voice small but steady. “I want to kiss you and so much more.”

Something seems to snap in him, and a mischievous smirk spreads across his cheeks. He moves his face closer to yours, your noses almost touching. “So you want more?” he teases, his voice a tantalizing whisper against your lips.

“Yes,” you breathe, the word escaping in a breathless pant as you close the distance between you. Your lips meet his in a fervent, passionate kiss, igniting a fire that blazes between you. Your hands hold his cheeks in place, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch, as he responds eagerly, deepening the kiss with his tongue, sending waves of desire coursing through you.

When you part, both of your eyes are wide, pupils dilated with desire, reflecting the intensity of the moment.

“I want you, Kook,” you plead, your breath mingling with his, your foreheads pressed together in an intimate connection.

Your fingertips trace the lines of his body, dancing over the contours of his chest until they halt at the brink of his jeans.

“I want you too, ___, but I—” he pants, his words cut short as you start to rub your hand over his clothed dick, eliciting a deep, gratifying groan from him.

You keep teasing him with your hand, feeling the growing hardness beneath your touch, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. You lick your lips, watching as his face contorts in pleasure, every subtle reaction driving you wild with desire.

“Hmm, you like it?” you ask, positioning yourself directly in front of him, locking eyes as you continue your ministrations.

“Yes, but I—” as your hand maintains its pressure on his crotch, he stammers out his words, his voice a mixture of desire and hesitation.

“What, are you a virgin?” your playful tease hangs in the air, accompanied by a soft chuckle, as you lean in closer to him, your breath warming his ear with your whispered words.

“No!” His response is hurried, almost defensive, tinged with a hint of embarrassment. “I’ve just never done it with a human before…” he confesses, his tone a mixture of vulnerability and curiosity.

You draw back slightly, scanning his face, catching a glimpse of uncertainty mingled with desire flickering in his eyes.

“I can guide you through it, show you what feels good. Trust me, you’ll enjoy every moment,” you say, your eyes shimmering with a mix of confidence and anticipation.

“I mean, Jin hyung already told me how it works,” he pants, his gaze fixated on your hand as it works its magic, his hips instinctively moving in rhythm, “I’ve touched myself before, out of curiosity, but I’ve never had sex with a human before.”

Your expression softens, recognizing that this is a new experience for him, so you resolve to take it slow.

“Mermen don’t exactly have dicks like humans,” he chuckles, his movements against your hand betraying his eagerness for friction.

You lean in again, teasing him, “How exactly do merfolk have sex?”

He chuckles, smirking at you, “Well, it’s more like a mating ritual, honestly. There’s some swimming around, almost like a dance, rubbing against each other. It’s quite primal and intimate, in its own way.”

You frown, a mixture of curiosity and disbelief evident on your face. “That’s it?”

He nods, his expression both amused and sincere.’

“No teasing? Release of bodily fluids? Making out? Sticking things into holes?” you list, your expression a mix of incredulity and disappointment. God, you really do like sex and all of the things you just listed. Mermaid intercourse sounds slightly boring in comparison.

“No sticking things into holes sadly—except for tongue kissing,” he chuckles, masking his disappointment with a playful grin, though you sense a tinge of longing in his eyes.

“But you get to try that now, okay? Then you can tell all your friends how it is to have sex with a human,” you smile, feeling a bit mischievous, your words laced with humor as you try to lighten the mood after the serious discussion.

“Many of them have already experienced it,” he laughs, his tone tinged with excitement and a hint of anticipation, “My hyungs have done it a lot, and I can’t wait to experience it myself.”

“They sound like they’ve had their fair share of adventures,” you chuckle, stealing a glance downwards, noticing the telltale strain in his pants.

He chuckles, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. “Can we talk about something else? Because I’m having trouble focusing on your hand when I’m talking about my friends.”

With a playful laugh, you grasp the situation and share a knowing glance. Eager to reignite the passionate spark between you, you playfully unzip his pants, only to discover he’s gone commando—a thrilling surprise that sets your heart racing and ignites a rush of desire.

A mischievous grin plays on your lips as you raise an eyebrow, your fingers wrapping around his cock teasingly. “No underwear?” you jest, a playful twinkle in your eye, as you give him a tantalizing stroke, feeling his anticipation building with each caress.

With a low, guttural sound, he shifts his weight, arching his back to assist as you peel off the remainder of his jeans. Your fingers eagerly find their way back to his dick, marveling at its girth and length, already imagining the delicious stretch it will bring. The anticipation sends shivers down your spine.

His cock is long— longer than average, and thicker too. The tip is red, a small bead of precum gathered at the top, just waiting to be tasted by your tongue.

He teases you, his hips surging upward as if to test your grip. “Do you like it?” he murmurs, a hint of mischief in his voice, his eyes locking onto yours as he waits for your response.

You meet his gaze with a smirk, your fingers still wrapped around him. “Yeah, it’s impressive,” you concede, your voice laced with anticipation. Honestly, you don’t care much about the size of it, more about how good he is at using it.

He watches you intently, his gaze probing yet curious. “Have you had a lot of sex before?”

You nod and give him a small smile.

You lean in closer, your eyes locked with his, conveying your sincerity and eagerness. “I have, but let’s focus on us now,” you whisper, your voice tinged with determination. “I want to make you feel good, and then you can return the favor. How does that sound?”

With a tantalizing smile, you moisten your lips before lowering them to his cock. The instant contact makes him quiver, a reaction that only fuels your desire. You start by tracing him with your tongue, savoring his taste, before enveloping him completely in your warm, wet mouth.

He utters adorable, needy moans as your mouth envelops him, his reactions spurring you on as you slide up and down, sucking him with fervor and intensity.

His hands find your hair, gripping it gently at first, then with a bit more urgency, but you don’t mind one bit. Instead, it fuels your desire, urging you to take more of him into your mouth, to please him further with every movement.

The echoing sounds of slurping fill the cave, reverberating off the rocky walls, creating a symphony of desire. Each wet, sucking noise only fuels your arousal further, igniting a fire within you that burns hotter with every passing moment.

“Shit. I’m feeling like I might come already,” he pants, his fingers tightening in your hair, a futile attempt to control the rising tide of pleasure coursing through him.

You release him with a soft pop, panting as you meet his pleading gaze, a flicker of desire mirrored in your eyes, silently promising more to come.

“It felt really good, but I really want to know what it feels like being inside your pussy, please,” his plea echoes through the cave, his eyes pleading like a desperate puppy, and you can’t help but chuckle at his adorable earnestness, your own desire kindled by his longing gaze.

“Of course. I want to have you inside of me too,” you pant, urgency seeping into your voice as you hastily pull your shirt over your head, revealing the lace of your bra to him, a silent invitation in the flickering light of the cave.

“You’re stunning,” he breathes, his voice filled with awe and genuine appreciation. “It’s not just your body that I love, but your entire essence, your personality—it’s all so captivating.”

Your smile widens, mirroring the warmth and affection swelling in your chest as you gaze at him. As you begin to unbutton your pants, a thought nudges its way into your consciousness. Retrieving the foil packet from your pocket, you place it on the ground between you, a silent promise of the intimacy about to unfold.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers to the foil packet, curiosity sparking in his eyes like a flame catching kindling. “What’s that?” he asks, his voice laced with intrigue and a hint of anticipation, as if sensing the gravity of the moment wrapped in that small, innocuous package.

You chuckle softly, charmed by his innocence, realizing he’s never encountered a condom before. It’s endearing, really, how sheltered his underwater world has been.

“It’s a condom. It’s for protection,” you explain gently, feeling a mix of tenderness and amusement at his innocence. “You put it on your cock. I’m on birth control, but it never hurts to be extra safe,” you assure him, deciding to take the lead and offer to help him put it on.

As you attempt to open the foil packet, he intercepts your movement with a smirk, halting you with his hand. “Not now. I want to taste you first. Can I? And will you let me know if you like it or not? I’ve never tried it before,” he trails off, his voice soft and endearing. It’s moments like these that make you realize just how charming he can be.

His hands find purchase on your hips, and with a deliberate tug, he pulls your pants down, leaving you bare in your underwear. His gaze travels over you, from your eyes down to your dripping cunt, igniting a fire of anticipation in your core.

“Your panties are wet.”

You chuckle in response, a mix of excitement and nervousness dancing in your eyes as you obediently part your legs wider, inviting him in with a playful yet anticipatory smirk.

“That’s because I’m aroused,” you confess, your voice barely a whisper as his touch sends a delicious shiver down your spine, your anticipation building with every electrifying caress of his hand against your hip bone and down to your pussy.

“You can remove it,” you whisper, your voice husky with desire, as you arch your back, offering yourself to him, a silent invitation. With a slow, deliberate motion, he slides your panties down your legs, revealing your glistening pussy to the dimly lit cave, the anticipation thickening the air between you.

He lowers himself between your parted legs, his touch sending shivers up your spine as his hands explore the soft skin of your thighs, eliciting playful giggles from your lips. With agonizing slowness, his fingertips inch closer to your aching pussy, your body aching with desire, yearning for his touch. You find yourself silently begging for him to make contact, your entire being consumed by the anticipation of his caress.

“Please, Jungkook,” you implore, your voice trembling with urgency and longing, “I need to feel you, your touch—whether it’s your fingers or your mouth, I don’t care. Just touch me.”

As he gazes into your eyes, his expression filled with desire and understanding, he delicately traces his index finger over your sensitive clit. The sensation overwhelms you, eliciting a strangled gasp of his name, your body responding eagerly to his touch.

With each gentle stroke of his finger over your clit, you can’t help but release a soft moan, your body instinctively responding to his touch. Sensing your pleasure, he continues, his movements becoming more confident as he circles and rubs your clit, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

As your breath quickens and your body trembles with anticipation, you find it increasingly difficult to maintain control, your legs quivering with need. Sensing your urgency, he gently guides your legs apart with his free hand, allowing him better access to your pussy.

He watches, entranced, as your clit pulsates, the rhythmic flexing and relaxing of the muscle a mesmerizing sight. The vision of your arousal sends a jolt of desire through him, making his own need painfully evident.

“You can put a finger in,” you pant, your voice trembling with need, eyes wide and pleading for more.

He looks up, his eyes searching yours, “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice a husky whisper filled with both concern and anticipation.

You bite your bottom lip, a soft groan escaping your throat. “Yes, Jungkook,” you breathe, your voice laced with desperate longing, “I want your fingers inside me now.”

With the hand that was expertly teasing your clit, Jungkook slides it down to your slick folds, marveling at how you glisten in the moonlit cave. He gently positions his index finger, then slowly, almost tantalizingly, pushes it inside you, making you gasp at the intimate sensation.

The pleasure hits you instantly, a surge of desire overwhelming your senses. You crave more, each second intensifying your need, as if every nerve in your body is crying out for him.

“Wow,” he breathes, mesmerized by the sight of his finger slowly disappearing into your hole, his eyes wide with awe and desire.

Mesmerized, he begins thrusting his finger in and out of you, his movements slow and deliberate. Your sweet noises of pleasure fill the cave, encouraging him. After a moment, he looks up, his voice husky with desire, “Can I add another one?”

You nod, and another finger slips into your pussy, stretching you just a bit more. The sensation is intoxicating, yet you crave so much more. You’re trying to maintain control, to let him take his time, but the need inside you is almost overwhelming.

“Please,” you whisper urgently, your voice trembling with desire, “add a third finger and use your other hand to play with my clit.” You crave the sensation, the stretch, the readiness for his cock, your need palpable in every word.

With a swift motion, you unhook your bra, allowing it to slip to the ground. His movements pause as his gaze fixes on your exposed chest—your nipples standing pert and proud, a silent invitation to his touch.

As his gaze reluctantly leaves your exposed chest, he resumes his attention on you, the third finger sliding into you with a gasp of pleasure escaping your lips at the welcomed stretch. His thumb, slick with your juices, finds your clit once more, initiating a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Breathless and on the edge of ecstasy, you manage to muster the question, your voice filled with awe and admiration, “Are you sure you haven’t done this before? Because you’re really good at it.”

His laughter dances in the air, a melody to your unraveling pleasure. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he withdraws his fingers, leaving you with a perplexed frown until you see him drawing nearer, his tongue tracing the contours of your pussy.

You surrender to the ecstasy, tossing your head back as waves of pleasure wash over you, relishing the sensation of his velvety tongue caressing every contour of your quivering folds and sending electric pulses of delight through your clit.

With a hunger that matches your own, he envelops your clit, his mouth becoming a vortex of ravenous need, as he sucks and teases, drawing forth the essence of your desire and savoring every drop of your arousal with a fervent devotion.

With an almost expert touch, he draws your sensitive bud into his mouth, creating a vortex of sensation that sends electrifying pulses of pleasure coursing through your body. Each suction brings you closer to the edge, igniting a fiery intensity that threatens to consume you entirely. As you pant and gasp, your senses reel with the impending release, the anticipation coiling tighter within you like a spring ready to unleash its pent-up energy.

Your fingers trace the curves of your breasts, igniting a trail of sensation that sends shivers down your spine. With each touch, you feel the heat building within you, a primal urge demanding release. Your fingertips dance over your nipples, teasing them to attention, and you can’t help but respond with a symphony of gasps and moans.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers up, drawn to the symphony of your movements, your gasps and moans orchestrating a melody of desire. Yet, he remains steadfast in his task, his lips and tongue weaving a spell of ecstasy as he devours you with hunger, like he has done this many times before. It’s as though he’s an artist, each stroke of his tongue a masterpiece, each flicker of his lips a masterpiece of passion.

As your body arches and trembles with impending release, you’re acutely aware that the peak of ecstasy is just within reach. “Jungkook,” you gasp, your voice a fervent plea, “I’m... I’m going to come.”

With his deep chuckle vibrating against your most sensitive spot, you’re overcome by the intoxicating blend of sensations. In an instant, your world explodes into a symphony of pleasure, your fingers tangling in his ebony locks, anchoring you to the dizzying whirlwind of ecstasy as he eagerly savors every drop of your essence.

With a gentle and tender gaze, he pulls away, his features adorned with a shimmer of your essence. “Was this alright?” he murmurs, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty, yet his eyes brimming with warmth and adoration. With a gasp of disbelief, you draw him into a passionate kiss, savoring the mingling taste of yourself on his lips, yet your heart races with an electric thrill. “It was perfect,” you murmur against his mouth, your voice laden with sincerity and longing, sealing the moment with fervent intensity.

“Now you can fuck me,” filled with need, you voice your desire, urgency coloring every syllable, as you reach for his shirt and hastily pull it over his head. Your fingers fumble with the foil packet, opening it with a sense of anticipation, before your hand finds his still-hard cock.

With careful precision, you slide the condom over his dick, a tangible barrier between you and raw desire. As you spread your legs, creating space for him, his cock hovers tantalizingly close to where you ache for him most. In his gaze, you detect a mixture of longing and uncertainty, silently seeking your permission to proceed.

You take control, grasping his cock firmly and guiding it to your eager entrance. With a whispered instruction, you urge him to press forward, “Push a little, but slowly.”

As he nods in agreement, a determined glint ignites in his eyes. With gentle yet purposeful movements, he starts to ease his cock into the welcoming warmth of your eager pussy, each inch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, stretching you deliciously with every inch gained.

His breath hitches, voice laced with wonderment, “Wow. You’re so tight,” he pants, his words punctuated by the sensation of more and more of his dick disappearing into the velvety depths of your cunt, a symphony of pleasure enveloping you both with each inch he claims.

“God, you’re big,” you pant back, a mixture of excitement and anticipation lacing your voice as you try your best to relax, welcoming the exquisite stretch and fullness as he almost fills you up, every inch of him stirring a delicious ache within you.

Finally, he’s completely inside, and you release a shaky breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding, feeling every pulsing inch of him deep within you, a rush of sensation flooding your senses as you revel in the delicious fullness he provides.

“You can move now,” you encourage him with a smile, eager anticipation shimmering in your eyes as you invite him to explore the depths of pleasure with each rhythmic thrust.

“How? You’re hugging me so tight,” he groans in pleasure, his voice tinged with uncertainty, as if seeking your direction amidst the waves of sensation coursing through both of you.

“Feel how we fit together?” you whisper, your hands tenderly guiding his hips. “Just move your hips—back and forth. Follow the rhythm of our bodies, and trust me, it’ll be amazing.”

“I already feel so good.”

He starts with a gentle push, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through you. With each thrust, he delves deeper, igniting an electric dance between your bodies, and you can’t help but moan in bliss.

“Don’t stop—faster,” you urge him on, and he responds with a surge of intensity, each thrust echoing in the cavern, a symphony of desire enveloping you both.

Your hands abandon his ass and hips once you’re satisfied he’s got the rhythm, his every thrust hitting that perfect spot, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you, your eyes rolling back in pleasure.

You moan his name, the sound igniting a primal response in him, his grunts mingling with your name, creating a symphony of passion in the cave.

“Keep going—harder,” you plead, your voice laced with urgency and desire. With each thrust, he drives into you with unyielding force, your back meeting the rough cave wall, igniting a primal intensity that leaves you breathless. You know there’ll be marks and scratches later, but at this moment, all you care about is the raw, primal pleasure he’s giving you.

“Yes!” you scream, your voice echoing against the walls of the cave, the intensity of his thrusts driving you to clutch his strong biceps for leverage. The intricate tattoo sleeve he has on his right arm, flexing with the strength he puts into his thrusts. With each powerful movement of his hips, he plunges deeper into you, igniting a primal fire that consumes both of you in an insatiable frenzy.

“___. I think I’m going to come soon,” he confesses, his voice strained with pleasure, his brows furrowing in anticipation of the impending release.

“Me too. Shit. Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” you gasp out, your disbelief mingling with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. His skill and passion feel too seasoned for a first-timer, leaving you both questioning the truth of his innocence.

“I’m just a fast learner,” he teases, his lips finding solace on one of your exposed nipples, eliciting a fervent moan of his name from you.

He sucks and nibbles at it, all while hitting your soft spot with precision. It’s an onslaught of sensation, driving you to the edge of ecstasy. You can feel the coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter within you, threatening to unravel at any moment.

With a tantalizing pop, he releases your nipple, only to lavish the same attention on its twin. His kisses, licks, and sucking send ripples of pleasure through your body, each touch igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you whole.

That’s it. You’re gonna come again.

“Fuck, Kook,” you cry out, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you as you surrender to the torrent of ecstasy, your pussy releasing your liquid and pulsating around his cock, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you with the breakneck speed he’s moving his hips at.

“Damn, how did you just get even tighter?” he groans, his voice strained with pleasure, his primal urges driving him to the brink of ecstasy. You feel his urgency, knowing he’s teetering on the edge of release.

“Fuck—” he pants, his breath ragged and erratic. Then, he stutters, his movements turning feral for a moment as you feel his cock twitch inside your pussy, and he releases into the condom, his body shuddering with the intensity of his climax.

He stills inside you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he puts all of his weight into his arms. You gaze at him with a smile, your hand finding his cheek, gently pulling him closer to you, a silent reassurance in your touch.

You kiss him tenderly, the intimacy lingering in the air as your lips meet in a long and deep embrace. When you finally part, your breath mingling, you whisper softly, “I loved every moment of it.”

“Me too,” his voice carries a gentle exhaustion, mirroring the weariness you also feel settling in. You share a quiet moment, the weight of your shared passion and pleasure evident in the silence that follows.

As he gradually softens inside you, he withdraws gently. You swiftly retrieve the condom, deftly disposing of it with a practiced flick, tossing it into the depths of the cave, a silent testament to the intimacy shared in this hidden sanctuary.

“Can we do it again?” he pleads, his eyes ablaze with desire, each word heavy with anticipation, begging for another swim into ecstasy.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his once more, the promise of another intimate time igniting a fire within you both.

“But maybe we can go for a swim first?” you suggest with a playful glint in your eyes as you feel your breathing gradually returning to normal.

His expression shifts to one of surprise. “You want to swim? I’ll revert to my merman form then…”

You gently grasp his cheek, locking eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze echoing your sincerity. “I love you, whether you’re in your merman or human form. I love all of you. And yes, I want to swim with you. You know how much I love being in the water.”

As he eases into your proximity, he nods, inching towards the water within the cave. With a mesmerizing display, a cascade of sparkle and glitter dances in the air as his legs seamlessly meld into a majestic purple tail. Your jaw drops, captivated once again by the breathtaking sight of his merman form, each time feeling like the first time you saw him like this.

He gracefully glides into the water with a splash, and you eagerly trail behind, tentative at first, dipping your toes into the cool embrace, then succumbing to the gentle caress that envelops your entire naked form.

You swim alongside him, venturing beyond the confines of the cave, out into the vast expanse of the open sea. The ocean stretches endlessly, meeting the horizon in a seamless blend of moonlit waves. Above, the sky is a tapestry of stars, each one twinkling like a promise of infinite possibilities. Though your house is a distant silhouette against the shore, it fades from your thoughts in the enchantment of this moment.

As you glide through the water beside him, the gentle rhythm of his tail occasionally breaking the surface with playful splashes, you find yourself drawn to the mystery of his world. “I’d love to see your home someday,” you say, the words carried away by the ocean breeze, mingling with the soft lullaby of the waves.

“Yeah. I know a witch that can turn you into a mermaid, if you really want to,” he says with a big smile on his face, his eyes sparkling with mischief as they meet your surprised gaze, mirroring your astonishment with his own excitement.

Your eyes widen with wonder— the thought of becoming a mermaid, a cherished childhood dream, suddenly within reach. “I’d love that,” you breathe, your voice filled with an intoxicating mix of excitement and disbelief, as if daring the universe to make this fantasy a reality.

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deception-united · 9 months ago

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Let's talk about killing off characters.

Killing off characters is a dramatic device often used to advance the plot, create tension, or evoke emotional responses from readers or viewers. We love doing it. The initial shock, the mourning after. The effects of it on the other characters. It's fun.

Nevertheless, you can still achieve the desired impact on your plot and characters without necessarily resorting to fictional murder.

Here are some alternatives to drive the plot forward:

Character transformation: Instead of killing off a character, you can have them undergo significant personal growth or change. This could involve overcoming challenges, facing moral dilemmas, or undergoing a shift in beliefs or values. Their transformation can still drive the plot forward and impact other characters. (I especially love it when the transformation is negative—like when a traumatic experience of some sort completely strips a character of their soul. But that's a sentiment for another day.)

Betrayal or conflict: Introduce betrayal or conflict between characters that challenges relationships and creates tension. This can lead to significant plot developments and character arcs without resorting to death. And it can be cause for quite a lot of angst.

Separation or estrangement: Have characters physically or emotionally separated from each other, causing tension and driving the plot forward as they strive to reconnect or deal with the consequences of their estrangement.

Sacrifice without death: Characters can make significant sacrifices that don't necessarily involve their death. This could be sacrificing personal goals, relationships, or values for the greater good or to achieve a specific objective.

Injury or disability: Instead of killing off a character, you can incapacitate them through injury or disability. This will create challenges for the character and those around them, leading to character development and plot progression as they're forced to adapt to their new circumstances.

Redemption arcs: Characters who have committed wrongdoings can undergo redemption arcs where they seek forgiveness, make amends, or strive to become better individuals. This can drive the plot forward while also adding depth to the character. Keep in mind that this may not be a suitable alternative to death for some characters—for instance, the protagonist forgiving their abusive parent despite all they were forced to go through may evoke a sense of indignation rather than admiration for their supposed selflessness.

Revelations or secrets: Introduce revelations or uncover secrets that have significant impacts on characters and their relationships. This can lead to conflict, tension, and plot twists without the need for death.

Forced alliances or unexpected partnerships: Characters can be forced into alliances or partnerships with unlikely allies, leading to interesting dynamics and plot developments as they navigate these new relationships.

Loss of power or status: Characters can experience a loss of power, status, or reputation, which can drive the plot forward as they strive to regain what they've lost, seek revenge on those responsible, or adapt to their new circumstances.

Time constraints or pressure: Introduce time constraints or pressure situations that force characters to act quickly and make difficult, split-second decisions that may end up being quite regrettable later on. This can raise conflicts of who's to blame, or what should have been done.

I feel like I strayed off a little, but there you have it. Hope this was helpful! ❤

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#writeblr #writing #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #writing resources #creative writing #plot development #plot device #torturing my characters #deception-united

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amirasainz · 3 months ago

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What about amira was watching a show and it had steamy scenes and Carlos walk in as had a fit, quickly turning it off saying your just a baby, how dare someone make u watch this

Hi my loves. Enjoy reading and send some requests.

-xoxo, Babygirl 💋

P.S.: Shoutout to the person complaining anonymously about how I tag my stories in my requests 😘😘

Just a Baby

Carlos was home for a rare break between races, enjoying some time with his family in Madrid. His sister, Amira, had returned home from university for a few days, and they were both relaxing in the living room. Carlos was in the kitchen, grabbing a snack when he heard the unmistakable sound of a dramatic TV show playing in the background. Amira was deeply immersed in the latest binge-worthy series, curled up on the couch.

The show, however, had taken a rather unexpected turn. A spicy scene appeared on the screen, one that was definitely more "mature" in nature. Just as Amira’s eyes widened, both from surprise and perhaps slight embarrassment, Carlos walked into the room, munching on an apple.

“Amira! What are you watching?!” he exclaimed, nearly choking on his bite.

Amira fumbled with the remote, trying to skip ahead or find the mute button, her face flushing a bit. “It’s just a show, Carlitos. Relax! It’s nothing,” she said, desperately trying to act nonchalant as she struggled to fast forward through the scene.

Carlos marched over and snatched the remote out of her hand. "Nada?! Amira, I saw what was on the screen. You shouldn't be watching things like this! You’re still just a baby!"

Amira rolled her eyes, already anticipating what was about to come. “Carlos, I’m 21. I’m not a baby anymore,” she said, crossing her arms defiantly.

Carlos shook his head, pacing in front of the TV like a concerned father. "21? Oh, please. You still have a teddy bear in your room!" he pointed out, hoping to strengthen his case. "This... this stuff is for adults."

“News flash, genius,” Amira shot back, “I am an adult.”

Carlos’ eyes widened dramatically, as though she’d said something preposterous. “You? An adult?” He let out a chuckle. "Amira, come on. Last week you were asking me to help you change the light bulb in your room because you were scared you’d break it. That doesn’t scream ‘adult’ to me!”

Amira glared at him. “That was because it was really high up and I didn’t have a step stool!” she defended herself, her cheeks turning even pinker. “Besides, what’s the big deal? You’re acting like I haven’t seen—”

“Don’t. Even. Say it,” Carlos interrupted, waving his hands in the air like he was trying to ward off evil spirits. “I don’t want to hear that you’ve seen anything like that. It’s disgusting. Unbelievable. You're practically a baby. You should be watching cartoons or... or... I don't know, baking shows!”

Amira couldn’t help but laugh now, the absurdity of the situation catching up to her. “Baking shows? Are you serious, Carlitos?”

“Or documentaries!” Carlos added, as if he’d had a sudden epiphany. “Something educational, you know. Not… this.”

Amira threw her hands up. “Fine. Next time, I’ll be sure to watch ‘The History of Bread’ just to satisfy you.”

Carlos squinted at her, pointing the remote at the TV and clicking the power button. “You know what, I think I need to start reviewing your shows before you watch them. Like, as a precaution,” he said, sounding very serious.

Amira was now completely exasperated. "What, are you gonna start putting parental controls on the TV?"

"Don't tempt me," he said, raising an eyebrow.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The following weekend, Carlos was back in the paddock for the next Grand Prix, catching up with his fellow drivers. During a quiet moment in the hospitality area, he found himself relaying the entire incident to his teammate and good friend, Lando.

“So I walk in, and she’s watching this... this show,” Carlos explained animatedly, “and there’s this completely inappropriate scene playing. I mean, come on, Amira’s too young for that stuff.”

Lando listened with a grin spreading across his face, clearly enjoying Carlos’ overprotective older brother antics. “Wait,” he interrupted, holding up a hand to stop Carlos mid-rant. “Isn’t Amira 21 now?”

Carlos nodded vehemently. “Sí, but that doesn’t mean anything. She’s still practically a child, Lando.”

“Practically?” Lando’s grin grew wider. “Mate, she’s an adult. You know that, right?”

Carlos folded his arms and huffed. “She’s not mature enough to be watching that kind of content. I need to protect her.”

Lando chuckled mischievously, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. “So… you think she’d do that with me?” he said casually, raising his eyebrows with a cheeky smirk.

Carlos’ reaction was instantaneous. “¿Qué? What did you just say?” His eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched.

Lando, who knew exactly what he was doing, leaned back in his chair and stretched nonchalantly. “I mean, if she’s watching stuff like that, maybe she’s… you know… open to trying things. I could—”

Before Lando could finish, Carlos had already lunged across the table, his hands outstretched toward Lando’s neck. “¡Eres un idiota!” Carlos shouted as Lando sprang to his feet, barely avoiding Carlos' grip.

Lando’s laugh echoed down the paddock as he sprinted away, Carlos hot on his heels. “It was just a joke, mate!” Lando called back over his shoulder, dodging past a stack of tires.

“I’m going to kill you, Norris!” Carlos yelled, weaving through a group of engineers who quickly parted, sensing the chaos approaching.

Drivers and team members looked on in bewilderment as the scene unfolded. Lando dashed past Max, who raised an eyebrow. “What did you do this time?” Max asked dryly.

“Nothing!” Lando managed to get out between breaths. “Just complimented Carlos’ sister!”

Max’s face broke into a rare grin. “Good luck with that,” he said, stepping aside to let Carlos barrel past.

The chase continued all the way to the garage area, where Lando finally ducked behind a stack of equipment cases, hoping Carlos would lose sight of him. But Carlos was relentless, storming up and down the aisle.

“Come out and face me, coward!” Carlos called, his voice filled with mock fury. “Or are you afraid of what I’m going to do to you?”

Lando peeked out from behind a tire rack, his face still lit up with that boyish grin. “Okay, okay, I surrender! You win!” he said, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “Amira’s off-limits, I swear!”

Carlos, still catching his breath, pointed a finger at Lando. “If you so much as look at her, I will personally make sure you have to drive the car with three wheels, understood?”

Lando nodded, unable to keep a straight face. “Got it, boss,” he said, giving Carlos a mock salute. “You’re such a protective big brother, though. It’s actually kind of cute.”

Carlos groaned, rubbing a hand across his face. “Cute? I’ll show you cute,” he muttered, giving Lando one last glare before finally walking off.

As Carlos walked away, Lando whispered under his breath, “Bet Amira would say I’m cute, though…”

Carlos spun around one last time, but Lando had already disappeared, leaving Carlos shaking his head and muttering something about British troublemakers.

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a-d-nox · 4 months ago

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web of wyrd: annual energies and relationship milestones

my best friend is newly engaged, as i said recently, which has inspired me to focus a little more focused on love and romance posts than you typically would see from me. i previously covered annual energies and some broad themes associated with them, so i thought lets look a bit more at the romantic themes seeing that it's over a year later (since that post) and i have seen WAY more webs at this point and picked up on some other trends.

something to keep in mind though - these are COMMON energy markers, any of this can happen any year. these are just the best case scenarios in my opinion.

for instance you can get married in a 22 year, but i feel like it may not last long term or it might be an elopement that upsets the couple and those around them long term...

or you could have a baby in a 12 year but need a c-section.

just some examples. by no means should you feel limited by what i say below!

let's get to it!

energies that indicate meeting your person

3 (the empress): finding a relationship where both people feel nurtured. it's a loving connection with a great potential to become something beautiful. this is a connection where you can dream about a life and a family together.

5 (the hierophant): meeting someone who shares your values and beliefs. this often leads to a conventional, committed relationship, often marriage.

6 (the lovers): friends to lovers energy for sure - it starts with simple conversations and evolves into love. it more often than not leads to meaningful and deep connections.

10 (the wheel of fortune): suggests that meeting your future spouse / person could be a part of your destiny, often through unexpected or "serendipitous" events.

17 (the star): the relationship is blessed/guided by a higher power. destiny seems to bring you both together. you can sleep well knowing you're on the right path and that the universe is bring you a significant relationship.

19 (the sun): a connection will bring happiness, warmth, and a sense of completeness.

21 (the world): finding a partner with whom you feel whole, a sense of completion, and/or a deep understanding. this leads to a long-term, potentially lifelong partnership.

energies that indicate moving in together

4 (the emperor): moving in together often requires a stable and organized environment, which aligns with the themes of the energy such as establishing a solid foundation and practical arrangements.

5 (the hierophant): moving in together can be seen as following milestones in a relationship leading towards a more traditional or serious commitment (like shared housing).

7 (the chariot): directly linked to movement and travel. represents taking control of one's life and moving forward, which can include physically moving to a new home or location.

energies that indicate becoming engaged

4 (the emperor): suggests that a relationship is entering a phase of solid commitment, usually it's the formalizing of a bond through engagement if that is the next phase of commitment in terms of your relationship.

5 (the hierophant): suggesting that a relationship is moving toward a more traditional and committed phase - if you are in a relationship, it is likely that the next step will be an engagement.

6 (the lovers): this energy is all about love, union, and making choices that align with one's heart. it can symbolize making a significant commitment, like being engaged.

11 (justice): there is a desire to make things official, usually this is an engagement leading to marriage. this is the most common marker i see in the years where people get engaged to one another.

19 (the sun): suggests a joyous occasion, like getting engaged, where both parties feel a sense of fulfillment and happiness surrounding their future together (there might be a large engagement party to celebrate).

21 (the world): signifies reaching a milestone. it can indicate that a couple is ready to complete one phase of their relationship and move into the next one, like engagement.

energies that indicate a wedding/marriage

4 (the emperor): often this is a sign of "securing" the partnership, which can extend to the formality and structure of marriage.

5 (the hierophant): represents tradition, societal norms, and formal ceremonies. this energy can signify a traditional marriage or commitment in the eyes of the community/law, suggesting a formal union. all of the events of a wedding are ticked off: engagement party, bridal shower, bachelorette, bachelor, rehearsal, ceremony, reception, send off, and honeymoon.

6 (the lovers): the union of two individuals. it doesn’t always spell out marriage ceremony, but it often comes up in the context of a relationship oriented commitment.

11 (justice): this can indicate making things official through marriage.

13 (death): this could be a symbol of a brand new era in your relationship (aka marriage).

19 (the sun): this energy can symbolize the happiness and celebration of a wedding, suggesting that marriage will bring joy and fulfillment to the couple.

20 (judgment): like 13, this could be a symbol of a brand new era in your relationship (aka marriage).

21 (the world): indicates that a partnership has reached a stage where marriage feels like the natural and fulfilling next step. symbolized a long-term commitment.

energies that indicate having a child

2 (the high priestess): often this energy shows up when a couple has been trying to no avail to become pregnant and suddenly does. this is because this energy signifies hidden or secret aspects of life (like the early stages of pregnancy). the energy is also connected to the moon and other feminine mysteries.

3 (the empress): the most obvious energy linked to pregnancy and fertility - it symbolizes motherhood, creation, and nurturing. there is a strong possibility of pregnancy in these years

17 (the star): symbolizes hope. this is a time of fertility and holds the possibility for new beginnings. may suggest a blessing or a dream come true (becoming pregnant after a period of trying or waiting).

18 (the moon): deals with cycles (ovulation), intuition, and hidden aspects of life. like 2 energy (but more common in the outer ring) this energy signifies the mystery of pregnancy and the feminine cycles. sometimes i see this in the ring where people weren't trying and tested negative or they don't show (physically or publicly) when pregnant.

19 (the sun): can signify a healthy, happy pregnancy, and the birth of a child (come on it's a kid on a horse). suggesting a positive outcome (you test positive hCG on the stick or with blood).

20 (judgment): suggests the arrival of a new life / the transformative experience of becoming a parent. this could also be a positive sign for couples looking to adopt or foster a child (as it could be a sudden and somewhat unexpected change of events (the list is often long)).

21 (the world): symbolizes the completion of a cycle, such as successfully conceiving or carrying a pregnancy to term (if not beyond the "due date"). can represent the fulfillment that comes with creating life.

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beejunos · 4 months ago

Text

ANIMAL INSTINCTS | Alastor x f.reader

Summary: An unexpected rut makes you and Alastor act upon your feelings. Desperately and intensely.

This story was requested by @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog. The idea for the story is completely theirs; I just had the pleasure of putting it into words, and hopefully, I did a good job. Enjoy, darlings!

Tags: Dom!Alastor, rut, biting, smut, doggy style (the position is actually called prone bone, but that's a weird name if you ask me), creampie

For the most part, life in Hell mirrored life on Earth. There were homes, stores, libraries, work and gyms. Sinners went to restaurants with their friends and bought flowers for their lovers. Life in Hell could be quite pleasant if one could ignore all the violence and chaos.

Alastor revelled in the stark contrast between the underworld and Earth. Here, he found that everyone had shed their masks, revealing their true nature without the façade of modesty or fake politeness. The freedom he felt in Hell was unparalleled. Here, he didn't have to suppress his instincts; he could openly embrace them without fear of judgment or reproach. In this realm, he no longer needed to lurk in the shadows or carefully stalk his prey. Instead, he basked in the unbridled power and control he had meticulously crafted for himself, relishing in the unfiltered expression of his true self.

There was just one thing that put a wrench in his otherwise perfect afterlife. His demonic body.

In the depths of Hell, Alastor had encountered a multitude of sinners over the years, each with their own unique and otherworldly appearance. Some exhibited minor demonic features such as pointy ears and sharp teeth, while others had undergone a complete transformation, like the sinner whose very essence had been twisted into a demonic couch. At first, Alastor had felt a pang of sympathy for the unfortunate soul trapped in such an unusual form. However, as time passed, he found himself more amused by the bizarre and often tragic circumstances of the damned. Such encounters became a part of his daily routine in the underworld.

Alastor considered himself among the fortunate few with a body almost identical to a human's. Despite initially struggling with his large and overly sensitive ears, he was still considered quite handsome by demonic standards. However, it was not just the ears that were new to him.

When alive, Alastor quickly realised that while others did not share his murderous instincts, he lacked some of the instincts others seemed to have. For all his life, he never sought to do the devil's tango, as one of his old friends used to call sex. He had tried it a few times, mostly just to see what the fuss was about and because it seemed to be expected of him to want it, but after it all, it just seemed more trouble than it was worth. For most of his short human life, Alastor never desired the human body but the blood that pumped through its veins.

However, this all changed the day he woke up in Hell.

It quickly became apparent to Alastor that he had woken up as some form of demonic deer-man, something he had initially been quite disappointed in since he didn't feel like it conveyed a strong enough message to the other sinners. However, when his shadow had manifested with increased powers, Alastor embraced his new, formidable body with contentment. For years, Alastor revelled in his new body and his new life in Hell.

He was strong. Stronger than his human body had ever been before, he found that he could finally live entirely after his compass with Hell's lack of rules. But Hell is still Hell. Meant to torment the souls of the damned, and torment did strike Alastor after a few years in the afterlife.

As he would later come to name it, the Need crept into Alastor's being like a shadowy predator stalking its prey, stealthy and deliberate. It didn't strike all at once, but rather, it sank its insidious teeth into his tender flesh slowly, so slowly that he barely noticed at first. Like a venomous serpent, it released its poison in measured doses, corrupting his thoughts and warping his desires, turning his own body into an alien battlefield. Once sharp and disciplined, his mind began to fragment under the strain, waging war against the primal urges that had begun to claw their way to the surface.

The first time the Need truly manifested within him was nothing short of a revelation. It started as a faint tremor in his gut, a gnawing sensation that he couldn't quite place. It was an ache, a deep, pulsing hunger that steadily grew, coiling tighter and tighter within him until it felt like a living thing pressing against the confines of his very skin, desperate to break free. The hunger wasn't for food, though; it was something far more dangerous and primal. It was a desire that went beyond the physical, a craving that no amount of flesh could satisfy. This hunger wanted more—to hunt, chase, and devour. It yearned to sink its teeth into the tender skin of another, to drink deeply of their essence, to taste the raw, pulsing vitality that lay beneath.

At first, Alastor was bewildered by these new sensations. He had known hunger before, of course, but this was different, more intense, more consuming. It felt as though a part of him had awakened that he hadn't even known existed—a part that was wild and untamed, a beast that had slumbered deep within him, only now rousing from its ancient sleep. He tried to dismiss it, to ignore the insistent, throbbing ache that had settled into his bones, attributing it to the peculiarities of his demonic form. Perhaps, he thought, it was merely a quirk of his new existence, a strange dietary need that would soon pass.

Driven by this belief, he made his way to Cannibal Town several times, drawn by the tantalising scent of fresh, raw flesh. There, in the beautiful shops, he indulged in every manner of meat, tearing through pounds of it in search of relief. He savoured the rich, iron taste of blood, the texture of muscle and fat, and the crunch of bone between his teeth, but it was all in vain. No matter how much he ate, the hunger remained, gnawing at him from the inside out, growing stronger with each passing day. It was as though the food he consumed simply vanished into a void, leaving him more ravenous than before. The Need was insatiable, a bottomless pit that could not be filled by any earthly sustenance.

As the days turned into weeks, the hunger grew stronger and more demanding until it became a constant, aching presence in his life. It whispered to him in the dead of night, its voice seductive and dark, urging him to give in, to surrender to the primal urges that coursed through his veins. The Need was no longer content to simply lurk in the shadows of his mind; it wanted out. It wanted to take control, to drive him to the brink of madness. Alastor could feel it in every fibre of his being, a relentless, thrumming pulse that matched the beat of his heart, pushing him ever closer to the edge.

The realisation of what the Need truly was hit him like a bolt of lightning on a stormy night, sudden and terrifying in its clarity. It wasn't just a hunger for food, for flesh—it was a hunger for something more profound, more intimate. The Need wasn't just physical; it was carnal, a desperate, all-consuming desire for connection, for the raw, sensual meeting of bodies. It was a hunger for a mate, for the sweet release that could only come from the merging of two beings, from the surrender to the primal dance of desire.

With this revelation came a new kind of fear, one that gripped him tightly and refused to let go. Alastor was a creature of control, a being who prided himself on his ability to remain composed and detached, even in the face of the most extreme temptations. But this…this was different. The Need was something he couldn't control or suppress, no matter how hard he tried. It was a force of nature, a storm that raged within him, threatening to tear him apart from the inside out.

In his desperation, Alastor withdrew from the world, retreating to the safety of his own home, where he could hide from the prying eyes of others. He couldn't bear the thought of anyone seeing him like this, of anyone witnessing the raw, unbridled Need that had taken hold of him. The isolation was a double-edged sword—it gave him the space he needed to think and regain control, but it also left him alone with his thoughts, with the dark, twisted desires that refused to be ignored.

The Need gnawed at him day and night, a relentless, insistent presence that demanded to be satisfied. It filled his dreams with visions of flesh and heat, of bodies entwined in a desperate, frenzied dance. He could feel it in every touch, every breath, every beat of his heart—a yearning, a craving that consumed him utterly. He was starving, not for food, but for the touch of another, for the sweet, intoxicating release that could only come from the union of two beings.

As the days stretched into weeks, Alastor found himself on the brink of surrender, teetering on the edge of a precipice from which there might be no return. The Need had become a living thing, a beast that demanded to be fed, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before he could no longer resist its call. The hunger was too strong, too all-encompassing, and he was only a man—demon or not—trying to resist the inexorable pull of nature.

Ultimately, Alastor knew he could only hold out for so long. The Need was a part of him now, a dark and twisted companion that would never leave him, never allow him a moment's peace. It was both a curse and a revelation, a reminder that even in the depths of Hell, even in the heart of a demon, the most primal of instincts could never be wholly denied.

And then, just as it had once been there, the Need disappeared, and he was himself again. However, that did not comfort him, for he now knew that this new existence was just a part of his new body, his new life in Hell—a seasonal rut.

Life at the hotel often teetered on the edge of sheer chaos, like a tightrope walker balancing precariously above a roaring fire. Yet, in its bizarre way, it maintained a strange sense of peace—well, as peaceful as one could hope for in a place that served as a rehabilitation centre for wayward souls in the depths of Hell. The air itself seemed to hum with the constant tension between serenity and madness, as if the very walls of the hotel were alive, listening, and waiting for the next outburst. But despite the madness that swirled around you, you found solace in the routine of it all. You had a roof over your head, work that brought a sense of purpose, and friends who felt like family, albeit an unconventional one. In a realm where despair could easily consume you, in your humble opinion, these small blessings were worth more than all the riches in Heaven.

As a hotel maid, your days were usually filled with mundane housekeeping tasks—dusting off ancient chandeliers that hung like eerie spectres from the ceilings, scrubbing the seemingly endless floors that stretched out in labyrinthine corridors, and changing the sheets on beds that often bore the remnants of restless nights. The hotel itself was a monstrous, sprawling structure, its architecture a twisted blend of grandeur and hellish decay.

Occasionally, a guest or someone connected to the guests would lose control of their composure and attack the hotel. You had witnessed more than one instance where someone's emotional outburst resulted in a massive hole being blasted through the wall, or worse, through the roof. Alastor, the enigmatic and unsettling overseer of the hotel, would then swiftly summon shadowy, spectral figures to repair the damage. These figures moved with a ghostly grace, their forms flickering like candle flames in a drafty room, and they worked with an efficiency that was both mesmerising and unnerving. You had learned early on not to question it. Alastor had an aura of menace about him that made the others shy away from him, but to you, there was something intriguing about him. Something that pulled you to him. It could, naturally, be that he was a deer type of sinner, just like you, and you had never seen someone else like that before him.

Then there was Nifty, your fellow maid and a whirlwind of energy. She was small in stature but mighty in her work, flitting from room to room like a hyperactive sprite, cleaning with a speed and precision that was almost supernatural. She had a knack for tidying up even the most disastrous of messes in record time, leaving rooms spotless and gleaming as if nothing had ever been amiss. In the beginning, you had tried to keep up with her pace, but it quickly became apparent that this was a futile effort. Instead, you decided to focus on another crucial aspect of the hotel's operations—cooking.

In a place like this, where the boundaries between reality and nightmare were often blurred, food became an anchor, something tangible and comforting in an otherwise unpredictable existence. You took it upon yourself to prepare meals for the staff and guests, finding a strange kind of peace in the rhythmic motions of chopping vegetables, stirring pots, and seasoning dishes. The kitchen became your sanctuary, a place where you could lose yourself in the art of cooking and crafting meals that provided a brief respite from the chaos outside. You would experiment with recipes, combining ingredients in ways that were both traditional and wildly unconventional, catering to the eclectic tastes of your infernal clientele.

Each dish was a labour of love, an offering to those who, like you, sought comfort in the small pleasures that life—or the afterlife—could still offer. And when the day was done, the last plate was washed, and the kitchen was quiet, you would sit back with a cup of tea, savouring the calm that settled over the hotel in those rare, precious moments of tranquillity. Ultimately, it wasn't just about surviving in Hell; it was about finding those fleeting moments of peace and holding onto them for as long as possible.

On a day much like any other, you awoke in your bed, the soft rays of early morning light filtering through the gaps in your heavy curtains. The light seemed to dance as it crept into your room, casting delicate patterns on the floorboards and chasing away the remnants of sleep from your eyes. The air was still, with only the faint hum of a distant world waking up beyond the confines of your room. You lingered for a moment, savouring the stillness, before reluctantly pushing back the covers and rising to meet the day.

Your feet touched the cool wooden floor, the sensation both grounding and invigorating, pulling you further from the grasp of sleep. You moved through the motions of getting dressed, slipping into your familiar work clothes—soft, well-worn fabrics that wrapped around you like an old friend. The final step before heading downstairs was the comforting weight of your apron, slung over your neck and tied at your waist.

The Hazbin Hotel, usually alive with the bustling energy of its residents, was enveloped in a rare, profound silence. With its long, winding corridors and grand, if somewhat faded, décor, the building took on a different character in these early hours. The ornate walls, adorned with tapestries and portraits, stood still as if holding their breath, waiting for the inevitable stirrings of life to resume. Yet in these moments, before the chaos of the day began, you found a certain peace that was otherwise elusive. The quietude of the morning allowed you to appreciate the old hotel's charm—the way the light from the grand windows caught the intricate patterns of the wallpaper, the scent of old wood and polished floors, and the echoes of footsteps long past that seemed to linger in the air.

Descending the grand staircase, your hand brushed along the polished bannister, the cool surface smooth beneath your fingers. The echo of your footfalls on the wooden steps was a comforting, familiar, and constant sound. Each step brought you closer to your favourite part of the day—those first few moments in the kitchen, before anyone else stirred, where you could begin your morning rituals in solitude.

The kitchen was the hotel's heart for you. The dark wooden cabinets stood tall against the walls, their surfaces worn from years of use but still sturdy, holding all the secrets of your culinary endeavours within them. The floor, a classic checkered pattern of black and white tiles, was cool underfoot and always spotlessly clean—a testament to your careful attention. And then there was the range, a magnificent maroon beast that dominated the wall opposite the kitchen entrance. It was more than just an appliance; it was an old friend, a companion that had seen countless loaves of bread, pastries, and roasts emerge from its fiery belly.

You approached the old pantry to the left of the entrance, its door creaking slightly as you pulled it open. Inside, shelves lined with jars and tins, spices and dried herbs greeted you with the promise of a thousand possible dishes. But this morning, as with every other, your hand reached for the small, hand-cranked coffee grinder and the tin of coffee beans. The grinder was a cherished antique, its wooden body smooth from years of use, its metal crank polished to a dull sheen by the countless hands that had turned it. The beans rattled lightly as you poured them into the grinder, their rich aroma already beginning to fill the small space.

With a steady rhythm, you began to turn the crank, the gears inside humming quietly as they crushed the beans into a fine powder. The scent of fresh coffee intensified, mingling with the faint smell of cinnamon and vanilla that still clung to the air from yesterday's baking. You allowed yourself a moment to enjoy the fragrance, the anticipation of that first sip bringing a small smile to your lips.

Once the beans were ground to your satisfaction, you carefully emptied them into the percolator, setting them on the stovetop. As the percolator began to bubble and hiss, filling the room with the comforting sound of coffee brewing, you turned your attention to a small plate on the counter. Nestled on a doily were some cardamom buns—a remnant of yesterday's efforts. The buns were golden brown, its surfaces dusted with sugar, and the scent of cardamom was still strong.

You took one of the buns in your hand, breaking off a piece and savouring the soft, fragrant dough as it melted in your mouth. It was smooth, buttery, spicy and comforting, the perfect balance to the strong coffee that was nearly ready. You knew that starting your day with only coffee on an empty stomach wasn't the wisest choice, but with the cardamom bun in hand, the morning felt just a little more right.

As the last drops of coffee dripped into the pot, you poured yourself a cup, the dark liquid steaming gently. You took a deep breath, savouring the aroma before taking a cautious sip. The warmth spread through you, a quiet joy. This was your moment, a small piece of serenity before the day began. And in this stillness, in the gentle light filtering through the curtains and the soft hum of the hotel around you, you found contentment.

As you sat perched on the kitchen counter, your legs gently swinging back and forth, you sipped your coffee and savoured the last bite of your cardamom bun. The comforting warmth of the cup in your hands and the sweetness of the bun created a perfect start to the morning. The kitchen, bathed in the soft glow of the early light, was a tranquil haven, and you felt a sense of peace that was rare in the Hazbin Hotel. Your thoughts were only on the present moment, relishing the quiet solitude that these early hours afforded you.

But then, the serenity was gently disrupted by the soft creak of the kitchen door swinging open. You glanced up to see Alastor enter the room. His presence, though familiar, always sent a slight thrill through you. Today was no different. Clad in his trademark red and black striped suit, he appeared every bit the dashing and enigmatic figure you had grown to love. His posture was impeccable, as always, with his shoulders square and his back straight, projecting the image of effortless composure. But you noticed something others might not—a slight lethargy in his movements, a subtle delay in his usual brisk steps. Though still glowing with that unnatural red intensity, his eyes seemed to carry the faintest hint of weariness. He looked like he’d had a restless night.

It was a knowledge that only came with time. You had spent countless hours watching him, learning his habits, his idiosyncrasies, how his smile would linger just a fraction longer when he was genuinely amused or how his voice would drop ever so slightly when he was tired. These were the details that no one else noticed, the hidden truths you cherished as a testament to how well you knew him.

"Good morning, Alastor," you greeted him cheerfully, your voice light and melodic, not unlike the chirping of birds heralding the dawn. The words slipped out with ease, a reflection of the joy you felt in these quiet moments alone with him.

Alastor's eyes, as crimson as freshly spilt wine, turned towards you. Though sharp and intense, his gaze softened slightly as it met yours. And then came that smile that never failed to send butterflies tumbling through your stomach. It was a smile that could charm or disarm, depending on his mood, but to you, it was simply Alastor, the man who had somehow captured your heart.

"Good morning, my sweet," he replied, his voice carrying the remnants of sleep, a slight rasp that added an unexpected intimacy to his greeting. The nickname, one he had affectionately bestowed upon you, never failed to make your heart skip a beat. It had originated one evening when he had wandered into the kitchen in search of the bottle of rye Vaggie had hidden. Instead, he had found you, elbows deep in a mixing bowl, powdered sugar dusting your nose and cheeks as you prepared a batch of cookies. The moment had been simple, unremarkable to anyone else, but it had marked the beginning of something special between you.

A faint blush crept across your cheeks as you recalled the memory. The warmth of his words mingled with the warmth of the coffee still cradled in your hands. Alastor's presence always had that effect on you—an intoxicating mix of excitement and comfort, of familiarity and mystery.

"The coffee is ready, just as always," you said with a smile, nodding towards the cup you had thoughtfully placed on the counter beside you. It was a small gesture but one that had become a part of your morning routine, a quiet act of affection that you performed without fail. You knew how much he enjoyed his strong and black coffee, and you took pride in ensuring that it was ready for him the moment he stepped into the kitchen.

Alastor's gaze followed yours to the cup, and his smile widened, a glint of appreciation in his eyes.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice now smooth and warm, like honey. He reached for the cup, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest of moments—a touch so fleeting yet so charged with meaning that it sent a shiver down your spine. He lifted the cup to his lips, inhaling the rich aroma before taking a slow, deliberate sip. You watched him, your heart swelling with quiet happiness as you observed the way his eyes half-closed in contentment, the weariness in his expression easing ever so slightly.

As you sat there, the two of you cocooned in the quiet of the kitchen; you couldn't help but reflect on how these small moments had come to mean so much to you. It was in the stillness of the morning before the rest of the hotel awoke that you felt closest to him. These were the moments where you could be yourselves without the pretence or bravado that often accompanied life at the Hazbin Hotel.

You had long since discovered that Alastor, for all his flamboyance and charm, was a creature of habit. He liked his routines, and once you realised that he preferred to have his morning coffee around the same time as you, it became a shared ritual—a way to carve out a small piece of the day that belonged to just the two of you. It was a subtle dance, a quiet partnership, and you cherished it more than you could ever express in words.

As he took another sip of his coffee, you found yourself lost in the simple pleasure of being near him, of sharing these unspoken moments. There was a comfort in the routine, in the knowledge that, for this brief time each day, it was just the two of you against the world. And in that thought, you found a sense of contentment that made the early mornings all the more worthwhile.

As you sipped your coffee together, the familiar comfort of Alastor's presence mingled with a growing, unbidden sensation deep within you. The fluttering butterflies in your stomach, which had always been a pleasant reminder of your feelings for him, began to stir with a new intensity. Their delicate wings, once only a source of lightness and joy, now seemed to brush against something more profound and primal. The tingling sensation spread through you, igniting a warmth that travelled lower, coiling deep within your core. You blinked, startled by the sudden realisation—the butterflies had transformed into something else entirely, a throbbing ache that could only be the unmistakable stirrings of arousal.

Startled by the intensity of your own desire, you quickly jumped down from the counter, your feet hitting the cool tiles with a soft thud. In a hurried attempt to mask your flustered state, you downed the remainder of your coffee in one swift gulp, the liquid scalding your throat but distracting you momentarily from the heat pooling in your lower abdomen. The sudden rush of movement seemed to amplify the blood pounding in your ears, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

Desperate to avoid Alastor's gaze, you rushed to the sink, your hands trembling slightly as you fumbled to place your cup and plate inside. The clatter of dishes rang out, the sound unnervingly loud in the otherwise quiet kitchen. Words tumbled out of your mouth in a clumsy attempt to divert his attention, to keep him from noticing the flush that had crept up your neck and settled on your cheeks.

"Well, this was truly wonderful, Alastor, as always, but now I really must get back to work!" you stammered, your voice higher than usual, betraying your anxiety. Without daring to look back, you spun around, intent on making a hasty retreat from the kitchen and the overwhelming tension that had suddenly thickened the air.

But instead of the open space you expected, you found yourself colliding with a solid chest. You gasped, the breath catching in your throat as you realised that Alastor had moved completely silently and now stood directly behind you. Your heart leapt into your throat as you tilted your head back to meet his gaze. His crimson eyes, usually so playful and full of mischief, were now darkened with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

Alastor's right hand was hidden behind his back, his left still holding the coffee cup, though it seemed to have been forgotten. He studied you with an almost unnerving focus, his gaze piercing as if he could see straight into the depths of your soul. Yet, something was distant in his eyes, as if part of him was lost in thought, grappling with something unseen. His breaths came slow and deep; each inhale seemed to draw the air from the room, leaving you breathless in his presence.

You instinctively backed up, the edge of the counter-pressing into the small of your back as you tried to create some distance, though your body betrayed you by leaning forward, drawn inexplicably closer to him. The air between you was thick, charged with a tension that felt almost palpable as if it had a life of its own. You could feel the energy crackling between you, something heavy, potent, and utterly intoxicating.

Alastor's eyes bore into yours, and you could see the flicker of something carnal, something raw and unrestrained, within their crimson depths. The intensity of his gaze sent a wave of heat coursing through you, settling deep in your belly, where the ache from before had grown into a full-fledged hunger. His laboured breathing mirrored your own, the rise and fall of his chest almost hypnotic as you matched his rhythm, each breath filling you with a heady mixture of anticipation and longing.

For a moment, the world outside the kitchen ceased to exist, the only reality being the charged space between you and Alastor. The very air seemed to hum with the unsaid, the unacknowledged desires that had long been simmering just beneath the surface. The silence stretched out, heavy and loaded, thick with unspoken words and the magnetic pull of mutual attraction.

And then, as if on some unspoken cue, Alastor took a step closer, closing the small distance between you, his body heat enveloping you like a warm, intoxicating fog. His free hand, the one hidden behind his back, suddenly appeared at your waist, fingers brushing against your side with a touch so light it was almost imperceptible. Yet, it sent a jolt of electricity through your entire being. The delicate caress was enough to draw a soft gasp from your lips, a sound that seemed to hang in the air between you.

His touch lingered, the pressure of his fingers increasing ever so slightly as he held you in place, preventing any thoughts of escape. You could feel the power in his grip, the barely restrained strength that lay beneath the surface, and it thrilled you to no end. Your pulse quickened, each beat echoing in your ears, and you found yourself leaning into his touch, craving more of the sensation, more of him.

Alastor's eyes darkened further as he noticed your reaction, a slow, predatory smile curling at the corners of his lips. His head dipped slightly, his breath ghosting over your ear as he whispered, voice low and laced with a dangerous, seductive edge.

"What is it, my dear? You seem… restless." The sound of his voice, so close and intimate, sent a shiver racing down your spine, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you whole. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, couldn't suppress the desire that was rapidly spiralling out of control.

"Alastor, what are you doing?" Your voice, though quiet, held a steady resolve. Even as your heart raced with the thrill of being this close to him, a flicker of concern danced in the back of your mind. This behaviour was unlike anything you had ever seen from him before. Alastor had always been composed, a master of his emotions and actions, yet now there was something different in how he looked at you, wild and untamed. The intensity in his crimson eyes stirred a mixture of excitement and trepidation within you. You didn't want him to stop, but you needed to understand what was happening and what that look in his eyes truly meant.

As if your words had snapped him out of a trance, Alastor blinked, his expression momentarily softening. He seemed to realise how close he was to you, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he withdrew his hand from your waist. The absence of his touch left a cold void where his warmth had been, and a strange sense of longing settled in its place.

Without a word, he turned slightly, reaching over to place his cup in the sink. But to do so, he had to lean forward, his body brushing against yours most tantalisingly. Your breath hitched as his face came mere centimetres from your neck, and in that moment, you felt his breath warm against your skin. Then, he inhaled sharply, his nose grazing the curve of your neck as he took in your scent. The intimate gesture sent a jolt of electricity through you, making your entire body tingle with awareness.

The soft sound of his inhale, almost a sigh, was filled with a hunger that sent your heart racing, and before you could react, the sharp clatter of the cup hitting the metal sink broke the spell. You flinched slightly at the noise, your startled gaze flying back to his face. But before you could form the words to ask him why he had done it, why he had drawn so close only to retreat, he was already moving away, his form dissolving into the shadows that clung to the edges of the room.

Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as you stared at the space where he had been, your mind reeling from the sudden shift in the atmosphere. The air still crackled with the remnants of his presence, heavy with an unspoken desire that had hung between you like a charged storm cloud. You could still feel the ghost of his breath on your neck, the faint warmth of his body against yours, and it left you yearning for more, craving the touch that had been so abruptly withdrawn.

For a moment, you remained frozen in place, your senses still overwhelmed by the lingering traces of his closeness. His scent—a mix of dark spices and something uniquely Alastor—still clung to the air, wrapping around you like an invisible cloak. Your skin tingled where his hand had rested, your neck burning where his breath had touched. The memory of that fleeting moment was enough to set your pulse racing once more, the ache in your core intensifying with every passing second.

You couldn't shake the image of his eyes, the way they had darkened with something raw and primal as he had leaned in. It was as if a dam had cracked within him, and for the briefest of moments, you had glimpsed the depth of his desire—a desire that mirrored your own. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, your body responding to the mere memory of his touch.

But then, just as quickly as it had all begun, it was over, and the kitchen was once again empty, the shadows swallowing him whole. You were left standing there, your heart pounding in your chest, your body still humming with unfulfilled need. You knew that this encounter had changed something between you, and you had opened a door that could never be closed. And even though he had disappeared into the darkness, you couldn't help but feel that this was only the beginning, that whatever had ignited between you was far from extinguished.

The hunger in his eyes and the way he had inhaled your scent as if trying to memorise it were not things that could be easily forgotten. And as you stood there, the silence of the kitchen pressing in around you, you realised that you didn't want to ignore them. You wanted more. More of the closeness, more of the heat that had flared so suddenly between you, more of the man who had just vanished into the shadows but who, you knew, would never be far from your thoughts again.

The encounter with Alastor in the kitchen earlier this morning had left you confused, yet you couldn't deny the raw energy that still coursed through your veins. His touch, the way he had leaned in so close, his breath on your neck—it had all been so brief, yet so intense. The memory of it lingered, simmering just beneath your skin, a constant reminder of the hunger that had been awakened within you. It was a sensation you couldn't shake, a burning need that gnawed at your insides and left you restless. You tried to make sense of it, to understand what had transpired between you, but the more you thought about it, the more you realised that understanding was not what you craved. What you wanted, what you needed, was to find him again, to confront the tension that had sparked between you and see if he had felt it too.

With a sense of determination, you decided to channel that restless energy into something productive, something that might draw him to you. Alastor had always had a peculiar taste when it came to sweets—he wasn't one for sugary confections. But you knew he had a weakness for rich, decadent chocolate, the kind that was bittersweet, with just the right balance of indulgence and restraint.

The idea struck you then, sudden and insistent. You would bake something for him, something that would carry the weight of your unspoken desires, a message wrapped in layers of dark chocolate and anticipation.

In the quiet of the kitchen, you set to work, your movements purposeful and precise. You gathered the ingredients, each one a piece of the puzzle you were crafting for him: dark cocoa, rich butter, a hint of espresso to deepen the flavour, and just a touch of sweetness—enough to balance the bitterness without overpowering it. As you melted the chocolate and mixed the batter, your mind drifted back to that moment in the kitchen, the heat of his body so close to yours, the intensity in his gaze. The memory only fuelled your determination, adding a particular fervour to your work. You poured the thick, glossy batter into the pan, smoothing it out with a spatula, your hands steady despite the wild beating of your heart.

As the brownies baked, the aroma filled the kitchen, rich and heady, curling around you like a dark, enticing promise. You found yourself imagining how Alastor would react when you presented them to him, how he might lean in close again, his sharp eyes studying you with that same hunger you had seen earlier. Would he be able to sense the emotions you had poured into every step of this creation, the longing that had driven you to seek him out?

Once the brownies had cooled, you carefully cut them into neat squares, arranging them on a plate. The sight of them, so dark and tempting, filled you with a strange sense of satisfaction. You could only hope that they would have the desired effect on Alastor, that he would understand the message hidden within the folds of rich chocolate.

With the plate in hand, you made your way through the winding halls of the Hazbin Hotel, each step bringing you closer to the man who had left you in such a state of turmoil. The hotel was quiet, the usual chaos subdued in these early hours, allowing your thoughts to swirl unchecked. The closer you got to the radio tower, the more your anticipation grew, your heart pounding in time with your footsteps as you climbed the stairs to the roof.

Finally, you reached the door to the radio tower, a place that was as much a part of Alastor as the suit he always wore. You hesitated momentarily, the plate of brownies warm in your hands, the reality of what you were about to do sinking in. But the memory of his closeness, the tension that had crackled between you, pushed you forward. You raised your hand and knocked, the sound echoing in the quiet corridor.

The door creaked open, and there he stood, Alastor, with that ever-present smile that could be both charming and unsettling. His red eyes glinted in the low light, and for a moment, the two of you stared at each other, the memory of the morning's encounter hanging heavily between you. Then, with a graceful tilt of his head, he stepped aside, gesturing for you to enter.

"Well, well, what have we here?" he asked, his voice smooth, with an undertone of amusement that sent a shiver down your spine. He eyed the plate in your hands with interest, his gaze flicking back to you, curiosity—and something else—lingering in his expression.

"I thought you might like something to go with your coffee," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady even as your pulse quickened, ignoring the fact that he’d had his coffee over an hour ago. You stepped into the room, the door closing softly behind you, sealing the two of you in the intimate space. He took the plate from your hands, his fingers brushing yours in a way that made your breath hitch.

"Chocolate brownies?" he mused, his tone almost teasing. "You do know me well, my sweet." His smile widened, though there was a sharpness to it now, a glint in his eyes that spoke of a keen awareness of the game you were playing.

As he placed the plate on the small table near his desk, you couldn't help but notice the way his movements were deliberate and overly controlled. He turned back to you, his gaze once again locking onto yours, and you felt the air between you grow thick with the same tension that had crackled in the kitchen. Only this time, it was more intense, more charged with the unspoken desires that had brought you here.

Alastor stepped closer, the space between you shrinking with each measured step. You could feel the heat of him, the magnetic pull that had drawn you to him this morning. His presence was overwhelming, and as he leaned in, his voice dropped to a low, intimate murmur.

"You didn't have to go to all this trouble, darling. But I must say, I'm flattered."

There was no mistaking the intent behind his words, the way they wrapped around you, pulling you deeper into the web he was weaving. Your pulse raced, your body reacting to his sheer proximity, the dark allure of his presence. You could feel the same simmering heat that had driven you to seek him out, now burning brighter, hotter, in the confines of this small room.

He reached out, his fingers trailing along your arm, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"What are you really here for?" he asked, his voice a soft purr laden with meaning. The question hung in the air, heavy and expectant, as if he already knew the answer but wanted to hear it from your lips.

Your mouth was dry, your thoughts a tangled mess of desire and uncertainty. But as his hand came to rest on your waist, pulling you just that little closer, the answer became clear. You had come here not just to deliver brownies but to confront the tension that had been simmering between you, to see if he felt the same electric pull that you did. And as his eyes bore into yours, filled with a hunger that mirrored your own, you knew he did.

The radio tower felt both intimate and suffocating as you stood before Alastor, the heavy air around you thick with the tension that had been building all day. You had come here intending to confront him, to get answers about the strange encounter in the kitchen that morning. But as soon as you stepped inside, you realised that something was terribly wrong. The room was filled with his scent—rich, intoxicating, and overwhelmingly powerful. It invaded your senses, curling around your mind and body, leaving you feeling dizzy and unsteady.

You had heard of this happening before, this surge of uncontrollable desire, but you had never experienced it so intensely. An instinct and power that overwhelmed sinners with certain animalistic traits, and since both you and Alastor were sinners with deer traits, it was only natural what had come to pass. Your heat had begun, and the sudden realisation sent a wave of panic through you. The heat in your body was growing unbearable, every nerve alight with a desperate need you couldn't control. And here you were, standing so close to him, your body betraying you, pulling you toward him as if he were the only thing that could satisfy the fire raging inside you.

You tried to focus on why you were here, trying to form the words that would explain your confusion about what had happened between you this morning. But the scent of him was all-consuming, clouding your thoughts and driving you mad with desire. You could barely speak, your voice catching in your throat as you looked up at him, your eyes wide with a mixture of fear and need.

"Alastor, I… I need to go," you stammered, your voice shaking as you stepped back. You couldn't let him see you like this, couldn't let him know what was happening. It was too humiliating, too raw. But as you turned to leave, you felt his eyes on you, sharp and intense, and you knew he had already figured it out.

The flicker of understanding in his crimson eyes sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting to the silent acknowledgement of what was happening. He knew. And worse, he understood because he was feeling it, too. His rut had started, and the primal part of him, the part that thrived on dominance and control, was warring with the more civilised side that knew it wasn't right to keep you here, wasn't right to let the Need within him take over.

You could see the conflict in his eyes. His muscles tensed as he fought to hold himself back, his breath coming in slow, controlled exhalations. For a moment, you thought he might let you go, that he might allow you to escape before things went too far. But there was a hunger in his gaze, a dark, consuming need that made your heart race even faster. And you knew that if you didn't leave now, you might not be able to at all.

With a burst of adrenaline, you turned on your heel and fled the radio tower, your heart pounding in your chest as you bolted down the stairs. The corridors of the Hazbin Hotel twisted and turned as you ran, your footsteps echoing in the empty halls. But no matter how fast you moved, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched, that something was stalking you from the shadows.

The presence was palpable, a dark, looming force that seemed to close in around you, even though you couldn't see him. You knew it was Alastor, that he was there, following you, watching you. The knowledge sent another wave of arousal crashing through you, your body reacting to the chase, to the danger of it all. The thought that he was hunting you, that he could catch you at any moment, only heightened your desire, the heat in your core growing unbearable as you neared your room.

You slammed the door behind you, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you leaned against the wood, trying to calm the frantic beating of your heart. But it was no use. The room felt small, the air thick with the remnants of his scent that had clung to your clothes and skin. Your hands shook as you fumbled to lock the door, knowing deep down that it wouldn't matter. If Alastor wanted to get in, no lock would stop him.

For a moment, there was silence, the kind that presses in on you from all sides, heavy and oppressive. But then, as if summoned by your thoughts, the shadows in the corner of the room began to shift, twisting and writhing as they took form. Your breath hitched as Alastor stepped out from the darkness, his eyes gleaming with an intensity that made your knees weak.

He was in front of you instantly, moving with the fluid grace of a predator closing in on its prey. You backed up instinctively, but there was nowhere to go and hide from the desire radiating from him in waves. His scent was overwhelming now, intoxicating, filling your lungs with every breath you took. It clouded your mind, pushing aside any thoughts of escape, leaving only the raw, primal need that had been driving you since this morning.

Alastor's gaze locked onto yours, and the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you. The tension between you crackles like electricity in the air. His hand found your wrist, pulling you closer with a firm, unyielding grip that sent a jolt of heat straight to your core. His touch was searing, his presence overwhelming, and as his other hand came up to cup your chin, tilting your face up toward his, you knew there was no turning back. The need in his eyes mirrored your own, a dark, consuming fire that threatened to burn you both alive.

You trembled under his touch, the last remnants of your resistance crumbling as you looked up at him, your body screaming for the release that only he could give you. And as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, you knew that you would give in to that need, would surrender to the fire that burned between you, no matter the consequences.

"Tell me to stop. One word and I will, but tell me you desire me as I desire you, and you will be mine for the night and all the nights to come," he whispered his voice a low, dangerous static that sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. But you couldn't, didn't want to. You were too far gone, too consumed by the lust that had been building inside you since the moment you entered the radio tower. Instead, you leaned into him, your body arching against his as you gave yourself over to the heat, to the need, to him.

"Alastor, don't you dare stop," was all you needed to say.

His lips were warm and soft against yours. The kiss was only gentle for a split second before the desire, the Need, overtook both of you. Hands clawed at your clothing, and it did not take long before you could feel his skin against yours. His body heat felt scolding against your skin, making you wonder if he was leaving marks all over your body. His hand travelled down your back as the bottoms of your shirt were opened and pushed down your body. The feeling of his fingertips against your spine felt almost sinful in nature, and you wondered if you would ever be the same.

Alastor pressed you against the wall of your room as he stopped kissing your swollen lips and turned to rain kisses down your neck. In between every kiss, he would stop and drag his teeth or nibble your flesh, making your skin feel raw and hot. Having enough of his attention directed towards your neck, you buried your hands in his thick hair and pulled him back towards your lips. His ears laid flat for a second against your hand but sprang up again after he realised that you did not pull him back in rejection but to encourage him to kiss you again.

As you continued to make out against the wall, you continued to strip each other clumsily. There was no way of being gentle or structured in the heat of passion, and some clothing pieces could be heard ripping, but none of you cared at that moment. However, everything seemed to stop as you felt Alastors hand sneak into your underwear and drag a finger slowly against your wet pussy. You tried to inhale, but your breath was ragged and hitched at your throat.

"My sweet, sweet little dear, are you desperate?" Alastor teased as the tip of his finger slowly started to circle your clit. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you looked back up at the radio daemon. To someone else who did not know Alastor, it would look like he was unaffected by what was happening, but you knew he was far from untouched. His smile ever so slightly wider, pupils blown wide, his shallow breath hot against your skin, and the feeling of his erection pressing against your hipbone.

"Tell me, do you want it here against the wall," he asked, pressing you closer to the wall, "or do you want us to move to the bed?"

"Bed, please." The words whispered against his cheek, but Alastor heard you clear as day. With strength you didn't know he had, he helped you jump up with your legs around his hips as he carried you to the bed behind him. He softly put you down against the soft and cool navy bedsheets, following closely as he laid down over you, encapsulating you between his arms that leaned against the bed, his pelvis pressing against yours between your legs. The meer pressure from his cock against you made your legs shake, and your body feel all tingly.

His lips, his hands, they are all over you, and it’s almost too much. Every touch leaves a feeling behind, almost like a mark, and you revel in the thought of Alastor leaving something behind on you that’ll show everyone that you are his just as he is yours.

Alastors skin is warm, almost scolding hot, under your fingertips as you help him strip from his clothes. You kiss him with desperation you had never felt before as you buck your hips to put pressure on his cock, making him moan against your swollen lips. He presses you down against the bed as you drag your fingers through his soft hair, pulling his head back as you trail wet kisses down his neck. His breath hitches as you find a sensitive spot where the neck meets the shoulder, and as you suck on his tender skin, leaving a small purple mark, you can’t help but feel pride. You pull back and look up at the man above you with smugness. His cheeks had darkened in a soft blush as he panted above you, red lips swollen and eyes almost black with desire.

As if the final mental blockade fell away and all inhibitions flew out the window, you and Alastor tore away each other's clothes. Leaving only tattered pieces of cloth on the bed and claw marks on your bodies. Later, you would wonder if the pulsing and desperate neediness that had built between the both of you had just enhanced what was already there, but for now, you revelled in the warmth and tingling sensation of arousal. You were wet, and you could feel the slickness of your pussy as Alastor removed your underwear at last. The cool air shilled you at the same time it sent waves of pleasure down your thighs.

“Look at you,” Alastor said, his voice husky and laced with desire as he looked down at you. “Such a sweet delight you are—sweet enough to eat.”

As he said those words, Alastor slowly pushed his finger into your vagina, coating his finger in your essence before slowly pulling out. You could not help the moan you let out turn to a gasp as you looked up at him, who started to lick his slick finger clean. His eyes blazed with uncontrollable heat.

“Truly delicious. Come, my sweet, have a taste of yourself.” Alastor put his other hand behind your head and pulled you up from the bed to meet his lips in a messy kiss. His tongue forced itself between your lips, mingling with yours and effectively leaving the taste of yourself on your own tongue.

“Stop being such a tease, Alastor.” You said against his lips when the kiss ended. Your hot breath merged with his as you dragged your hands down his torso. You could feel every muscle jump underneath your fingertips as if they were shocked with electricity as you pulled your hands lower and lower. His pants, opened and barely hanging off his slim hips, weren’t difficult to pull down and made a soft sound as they hit the floor across the room. You gently pressed your thumbs down between his underwear and skin as you slowly pulled them off him. You could feel the goosebumps covering the man above you as your finger glided over his hot skin.

The first time you felt Alastor’s cock against your heated pussy, it made you believe that there was never going to be anyone else after him who could match the feeling. Hot liquid pooled between your legs as you instantly lifted your hips to get even closer, effectively pulling a low moan out of the man's trembling lips.

“Naughty, naughty little doe of mine. Control yourself,” he chuckled as he pressed open mouth kisses against your neck, but you didn’t want to control yourself. You wanted the passion, the heat, the feeling of Alastor pounding inside you as your legs shock from pleasure. And so, letting the instincts take over, you grabbed his cock gently, making Alastor let out a gasp against your shoulder as he gently moved his hips to make his manhood glide back and forth between your fingers. Desperate for the touch and the pleasure you could give him.

“Alastor, please, my dear, I want you inside me. I can’t wait anymore. I need you so badly,” you mumbled against his ear right beside your head, and with every word you said, you could feel Alastor’s teeth and nails dig a little bit deeper into you.

With one single thrust, Alastor entered you after you had aligned him right in front of your opening. It has heaven in Hell, this moment when you first felt him inside you, and your legs instinctually closed around his hips to press him as deep within you as he could go. Everything was heightened. Every touch felt electric, every breath a heave, and every thrust sent a feeling of fullness and belonging inside you. The feeling was addicting, like the sweetest of wine, the nectar from the gods, and it begged and begged for more.

“More, more, Alastor, give me more,” you chanted against his skin as your fingernails dragged long red lines along your lover's back.

“Greedy, oh so greedy, my sweet.” you could feel his smirk against your cheek as he kissed your temple. “You deserve the world.” Was the last thing he said before he pulled away to sit up on his knees. His band quickly found your knees as he prided your legs open and started to slowly and agonisingly thrust into you. You could feel everything. His eyes roaming over your body, the cold air against your heated skin, and his thick cock slowly pushing in and out, filling you, teasing you. It was as if Alastor wanted to drag out your pleasure for as long as possible.

In an instant, Alastor pulled out and flipped you around on your belly with a strength you didn’t know he had. Two strong hands took hold of your trembling hips and lifted them high enough to shove one of the thick pillows underneath. With your hips resting against the pillow and chest against the mattress, Alastor sat up further on his knees, towering over you, as he dressed your legs together with his knees so that your legs were now snuggled together between his thighs. You could feel your cunt flutter in excitement as you bit your lips, waiting for Alastor to enter you again. And he didn’t disappoint.

With one thrust, Alastor buried himself within you again as he bent down to whisper in your ear.

“Is this what my sweet little doe wanted? To be bent over, used, fucked till there isn’t a single thought in that head of yours? Do you want me, my darling? Do you want to be mine?” Every word he whispered was further emphasised with a slow and deep thrust. Pressing you against the pillow. Your finger dug deep into the bedsheets as you pushed your mouth to the mattresses to disguise your primal moan in desperation. But Alastor would have none of it. Instead, his hand snuck underneath your chin and bent your head back, effectively filling the room with the sound of your moans and the slapping against bodies as Alastor continued to fuck you.

“Don’t hide for me. I want to hear every pathetic little sound you make. I want to hear how good I can make my little mate feel.” Those words were the drop that made the goblet overflow and the last thing you need before an orgasm ripped through your body uncontrollably. Your pleasure seemed to snap something inside Alastor, too, for he quickened his pace. Chasing and intensifying both of your pleasures as you pulsed around his cock.

“Yes, yes, yes, your mate. I want to be your mate,” the words came tumbling out of your mouth as your whole body chook from the orgasm that beat within you like stormy waves against a cliffside. Nothing had felt more right than Alastor within you and the thought of being his as he was yours.

Alastor kept thrusting at a quick pace as your orgasm started to subside, but a new pleasure hummed with pride within you as you felt him come inside you. With every throbbing of his cock, Alastor’s nails dug deeper and deeper within the mattresses until he tore them apart.

Shaking, sweaty and tired, you let out one last moan as Alastor put all his weight against you as he lay above you, pressing you against the mattresses. You could feel his hot lips against your neck as he said,

“Well, aren’t my sweet little mate full of surprises?”

Well, would you look at that! I'm back! Did you miss me?

Jokes aside, I hope you enjoyed this smutty little story!

Hazbin gen. taglist: @reath-solia @everwolf-20 @alastorthirsty1

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x you #x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel smut

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writing-with-sophia · 5 months ago

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Write a weak hero

Okay, first, what is weak? According to Oxford Dictionary, weak is lacking the power to perform physically demanding tasks; lacking physical strength and energy, or liable to break or give way under pressure; easily damaged.

That means, a weak hero is a character who isn't physically strong, mentally strong or even both.

So, how can we create a weak hero but do not make readers hate him/her? You will know after this post!

First, developing an effectively background

Unlike typical heroes who may have been born with incredible powers or had a dramatic origin story, the weak hero should come from a mundane background. They can be an ordinary person with nothing outstanding, a failure, etc. and suddenly have to shoulder the responsibility of "a hero" even though they don't want it.

Focus on their mundaneness and weakness. Describe the awkward situation where they are forced to become heroes. Why were they chosen to be heroes, when there are others who are more talented and powerful? What were the circumstances under which this happened? Make it as clear as possible.

Don't forget to describe their thoughts, feelings, and reactions. In their backstory, highlight times when the weak hero tried to be heroic or take on challenges, only to fall flat on their face. Was there a specific incident that shattered their self-esteem? Do they come from a family or environment that was overly critical? These past embarrassments and disappointments can inform their current self-doubts.

Use flashbacks strategically. Intersperse key backstory moments throughout the narrative to gradually reveal the hero's history and motivations, rather than dumping it all at once. This will help the reader better understand the character's journey and the reasons behind their reluctance to embrace the role of a hero.

Second, emphasizing their weakness

Focus on their mundane, everyday struggles. Rather than epic battles, the weak hero's conflicts should revolve around things like asking neighbors for help or failing to complete simple tasks.

You can also contrast them with stronger, more capable heroes. Have the weak hero regularly get overshadowed or overlooked by the more impressive feats of other characters.

The weak hero's ineptitude and frustrations can be a great source of comedy. So don't be afraid to poke fun at their failings :).

Third, slowly build towards small victories

If you want your weak hero to be liked by the readers, never let them be weak all the time. Drop subtle hints in the backstory that suggest the hero has untapped potential or unique talents that could one day be leveraged in unexpected ways, even if they don't realize it themselves.

Focus on the why. What made them become strong, or strive to become stronger? Is it a long-term motivation or a temporary one? Are they doing it for themselves or others? What will they do to overcome their weaknesses? Over time, the weak hero can learn to leverage their "useless" powers in clever ways and gain a little more confidence, even if they never become a heavy hitter.

And, remember to highlight their determination. Despite their shortcomings, the weak hero should possess an underlying stubbornness and refusal to give up. Showcase moments in their past where they persevered even when success seemed impossible.

Fourth, crafting challenges

When crafting challenges for a weak hero, you need to focus on obstacles that play to their specific limitations and insecurities. Here are some types of challenges a weak hero might face:

Outmatched in combat

The weak hero tries to take on a powerful villain, only to be easily overpowered by the villain's superior strength, speed, or abilities.

They get into a fight they can't win and have to rely on their wits or dumb luck to escape unscathed.

Inability to complete basic tasks

The weak hero struggles with simple everyday activities like opening a jar, fixing a leaky faucet, or assembling furniture.

These mundane challenges become major roadblocks that highlight their incompetence.

Social humiliation

The weak hero tries to interact with others, only to say the wrong thing and embarrass themselves.

They may attempt to flirt, negotiate, or simply make small talk, but end up flustered and socially awkward.

Lack of confidence

The weak hero doubts their abilities and has a hard time believing they can accomplish anything meaningful.

They may shrink away from opportunities to be heroic, worried they'll just mess things up.

Overbearing comparisons to stronger heroes

The weak hero is constantly overshadowed by the exploits of more powerful heroes, making them feel inadequate.

They may try to emulate the other heroes' successes, only to fail miserably.

Underestimation by villains

The villains dismiss the weak hero as harmless and ignore them, allowing the hero to stumble into accidentally foiling the villain's plans.

The villains may even make the mistake of toying with the weak hero, giving the hero a chance to catch them off guard.

The key is to create challenges that force the weak hero to rely on their limited abilities in creative ways. Gradually building their confidence through small wins can be a rewarding character arc.

Fifth, supportive relationships

The weak hero likely has friends, family members, or mentors who believe in them, even if the hero themselves does not. By including a support system of characters who see the weak hero's hidden potential, the narrative can strike a balance between the hero's self-doubt and the encouragement of those around them. These supporting characters can provide a counterpoint to the hero's negative self-perception, offering validation and pushing them to exceed their own expectations.

The interactions between the weak hero and their cheerleaders can also be a source of character development and emotional growth. As the hero gains confidence and finds ways to leverage their unique talents, the relationships with these supportive figures can evolve, deepening the overall narrative.

Supportive relationships can be of many types, but the most effective are:

A mentor figure who sees the hero's hidden strengths and pushes them to overcome their limitations.

A loyal friend who constantly encourages the hero and refuses to give up on them.

A capable sidekick or partner who can cover for the hero's weaknesses in battle.

A tech-savvy ally who develops gadgets or abilities to enhance the hero's limited powers.

A family member who provides unconditional love and acceptance, even when the hero doubts themselves.

A romantic interest who sees the hero's inner strength and brings out their best self.

A rival or adversary who recognizes the hero's true talents, forcing them to confront their own insecurities.

A renowned hero or role model who inspires the weak hero to strive for greatness, even if they don't believe they can achieve it.

It is not easy to create a weak hero. Crafting a compelling weak hero requires carefully balancing their flaws and insecurities with moments of growth and determination. You must find ways to make the character relatable and likable, despite their shortcomings, by highlighting their underlying potential and the support system that believes in them.

Hope you enjoy this. If you have any questions about writing, inbox me. I will answer as best as I can.

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comicaurora · 7 months ago

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hi red!! i'm doing an analysis of sun wukong's (and journey to the west in general's) impact on modern culture for my world mythology final, and for some reason i'm having a hard time finding sources. is there anything you can recommend?

The fact that Journey to the West has contributed an enormous number of tropes to modern media is very clear when the media in question is examined, but I don't know of a specific secondary source that's already done that analysis for you. However, this IS a very good excuse for you to plow through a metric buttload of shonen manga, since the lineage is basically Sun Wukong -> Son Goku -> like a solid third of all shonen action heroes written in the last forty years.

Dragon Ball kicks things off:

Started in 1984 and almost unquestionably the most influential manga ever made. Its first arc features the weird super-strong monkey-kid Son Goku - which is just the japanese pronunciation of the characters of Sun Wukong's name - meeting up with a wacky crew of thinly-veiled expys of the Journey to the West crew, with teen inventor Bulma filling the role of Tripitaka, Oolong the pig-man filling Zhu Bajie's role and Yamcha the desert-based bandit as Sha Wujing.

Hijinks ensue, and while the story drifts pretty far from Journey to the West's original plot, it actually stays pretty solidly referential in weirdly unexpected ways. Several the villains of the week are JttW references, and even the later appearance of three more Saiyans lines up with the surprise reveal of three more Wukong-like mystical apes in the original story.

The connection between Dragon Ball and JttW is very unsubtle and a frequent reference in the chapter covers and supplemental art.

Not every subsequent JttW reference is the result of Dragon Ball popularizing it or anything, since it was already enormously popular, but I think it's pretty hard to extricate Dragon Ball's influence on anime and manga from the original influence of Journey to the West itself.

One way that a distinction can be drawn is in the differences in characterization between Goku and Sun Wukong himself. A lot of the next generation of shonen protagonists were kind of Goku-alikes - pure-hearted dumbasses who only care for the three Fs: Food, Fighting and Friendship.

But the original characterization of Sun Wukong is not really all that similar. He's a trickster, sure, but he's far from a young, friendship-motivated goober. He's profoundly intelligent, pretty much the most well-educated entity on the planet, and routinely brings up that he's centuries older than most of his peers. The Goku-alikes from the later decades of shonen anime are tellingly far-removed from that original characterization. So you get characters based on Goku's cheerful idiocy, but it's just a small subset of the broader influence of Journey to the West on the space of literature.

In general, Journey to the West frequently shows up in very small, bite-sized tropes in other stories. It's less "this is wholly based on Journey to the West" and more "oh, I know where they maybe got this idea/aesthetic/power/weapon/villain of the week from." There are way too many to list, but some of the ones that tend to jump out at me are-

Sneaky characters with monkey motifs:

Tricksy, highly mobile characters who fight with a staff:

Characters afflicted with a magical restraint artifact that allows a much weaker character to stop them from misbehaving:

Specific esoteric weapons, eg. magical fans, rakes, gourds, namedropping The Sword of Seven Stars, etc.

Villains with prominent ox or pig design motifs:

Characters whose primary combat strat is just making Shitloads Of Disposable Copies Of Themselves:

Honestly it just keeps going like this. It's kinda everywhere. Finding the JttW in things is my favorite conspiracy theory rabbit hole because it's 100% harmless and more often than not completely correct.

#asks #not aurora #media recs

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evilminji · 4 months ago

Text

Still hung up on my "what unusual, unexpected, Non-Violent ways could an SI-OC COMPLETELY Fuck up the Millennium Long Sith Plan by accident?" Ponderings...

Cause mine? Is still? Holo-net YouTube equivalent star. Cause being a child is boring.

And being a PEACEFUL MONK CHILD? When you are used to "go go GO! Earn your right to EXSIST! Pay for that air and the water YOU BREATHE!" Capitalist hellscape life? Constantly inundated with ads and horrible news and stimulus of all kinds?

Only for it all to STOP?

Twitchy. Very, very twitchy. Unable to sit still. That on TOP of knowing what's coming but knowing they don't really have the power or influence to stop it? Like mental torture.

Sure. We all WANT peace... but would we actually know what to DO with it? Know how to handle being truely sheltered and allowed REST? Or would it be nice for a few days before it became a hell of understimulation?

Thus! Holonet. A desperate bid for STIMULUS! Feral, grabby handed, little youngling that has been doing the emotional equivalent of "AaaaaaAAAAAAA-" for WEEKS? Keeps escaping to desperately claw their way into everything, get caught, only to hiss like an enraged tooka the WHOLE way back to the creche? Whom EVERYONE is actually quite concerned for? Because this is NEW and started after some sort of Force event?

But? The SECOND, the very INSTANT they get their hands on a Forbidden Holonet Connection and can connect to the wider 'Net?

Calm.

Somehow, a ten hour compilation of Zrkthakkik's greatest hits? Are working better then meditation. They're finally still. Finally at peace. Don't even seem to truly be listening? Just... letting the sound wash over them. Huh. Focused on that tooka video, huh, youngling? No, no! Not going to take it from you! Just want to... to understand.

And I mean? If it helps, it helps? Obviously it must be SUPERVISED. Because their are creeps out there. Horrors. But? If it brings peace? *everyone shrugs* they've accommodated stranger.

So the kiddo gets to keep it.

They improve, mentally and emotionally. But, as with all healing? They plateau. Just HAVING it is no longer enough. They wish in ENGAGE. Some argue this is drug like behavior. Should be stopped. Others say it is clearly SOCIAL behavior, that they are seeking to connect, create. Something that should be carefully guided, not shamed.

And really, do you honestly think the youngling will STOP if you try to take it away?

Better to control the development of this. Moniter. Get to the root of it and help them meditate upon their "need" for such things. IS it a need? A desire? Why?

Honestly, it's like none of you have dealt with younglings before!

So they get their Holonet accounts. Supervised by a rotation of Knights and Master, but still! Great for asking random questions! Getting answers! Galactic memes! The Net suddenly has a jedi youngling they can @ and possibly GET A RESPONSE FROM.

"Hey! Mini-Jedi! Why the FUCK do they do that THING? You know, the *describes behavior*?" "Oh THAT? That's a Force thing. It's kinda like listening to comms, but in your head, and it's coming from the universe who's trying to lead you towards the Best Outcome. And No, we don't know what that is either. That's why we're monks, my dude. We gotta rely on Faith. I can send you a paper that explains it better if ya want?"

Like? Yes. Pls post the Forbidden Mysterious Jedi Papers. Give us the Secrets™. NO ONE knows JACK SHIT about Jedi? Gib. Wikileaks that shit, tiny Jedi child! Be the hero we all badly want but don't deserve, with your tiny adorable child hands!

But like? It's... it's not even a secret? It's just years of Sith and Republic born obfuscation? Making finding ANYTHING damn near impossible? Gaining ACCESS to the Jedi's legitimately FREE library and archives?? Almost impossible?

So like.... OKAY.

Sure.

I'll uuuuuh, just? James Bond my way, in broad daylight, passed Madam Nu, in full line of sight, to download that paper legally and with her permission? Very sneaky. High stakes mission. MASTER of stealth, that I am? Uuuuuuh, here you go, I guess?

You know what? Fuck it. Here's like? Everything ELSE that was on that terminal.

Go nuts.

And of course, they DO go nuts. Free Mysterious Jedi Knowledge! ABOUT JEDI! Explaining their WEIRD JEDI SHIT! And it DIDN'T take like five years and more forms then conquering a small planet! FUCK YEAH!

Is the senate upset? Yes. Someone BROKE their needlessly convoluted LAWS! But what are they going to do? Charge a itty, bitty, BABY CHILD? Of course not! So it has to be whoever was in charge of them. And that IS...?

.......you know? Suddenly? None of the Jedi can quite recall.

Do YOU remember? Master Fisto? No? Master Windu? No? Ah, but surely Master Yoda! No? Oh dear~! Well SOMEBODY was surely watching the youngling. If only we could recall whom. You know, Senators, when we find out, we will SURELY get RIGHT back to you. *click*

They will not.

But SI is grounded. No more Wikileaks-ing... that's now the Shadows job. And a near feral with delight, Madame Nu. The Order OBVIOUSLY can't be involved in that. For OBVIOUS reasons. That's breaking the LAW. They would NEVER... no matter HOW stupid the law is. Nor HOW directly contradictory to Jedi philosophy it is. Nope! We, the jedi, are VERY law abiding.

Find something ELSE to occupy your time.

OKAY. :)

Holo-tube culture? Very different from YouTube culture they remember. Same with the general holonet. They miss the content they are familiar with. So? If naturally occurring doesn't exsist? As the joke goes? "Store bought is fine!" They'll make it themselves!

It's not like they're a Padawan! (Or will live to seen themselves ever become a knight.) They got nothing BUT time outside of classes! A project would be nice! So...

First they need a moderator/editor etc. Someone to help keep sensitive information AWAY from the 'Net while ALSO moderating chats, comment sections, etc. Making sure the videos are aesthetically pleasing and such. They could do that themselves, but that would take way too much time. And asking a Knight or Master would take all THEIR time... plus expose them to the horrors of the 'Net.

No, no what THEY need? Is a DROID! A custom one.

.....wait. Fuck.

The only person they know off the top of their head that could DEFINITELY make such a droid? Is the younling slayer 5000, Mr. "Eventually Gonna Murder Me" himself. Anikin Skywalker.

KARK.

But heeeey, not like he's crazy stabby YET? So... they slide up to him. WITH his master present, thank you very much, and ask if he could build such a thing. He, quite reasonably, asks WHY the fuck he would do that. Obi-wan if about to scold him but SI cuts him off, because they aren't just asking for helping putting together a droid kit here. Anikins response is completely reasonable.

He does not know SI. That is a lot of time and effort to spend on a strange younling who might not even take care of what he's created. Might treat his custom work as a disposable toy. Custom droids are expensive! Complexe! Built to last! He is right to have reservations.

SI has some pocket change from the Wikileaks thing. Could pay for some parts. Would learn how to take care of them. Wants them as a PARTNER in their project, so would like them to be smart. Is willing to sign a contract. Understands if this is not good enough reasons. They don't exactly have a lot to offer, besides promising to treat the droid well and some pocket cash.

And? Call Anikin a sucker, but he respects the sincerity. Thinks every kid should have a droid best friend. And it DOES sound like a fun challenge...

Allright, tell him more about your little project, kiddo. What would the droid need to DO?

Thus is born! Mod-3! (Don't ask about 1 and 2. There were... issues. 1 exploded and 2? Somehow 2 escaped and is now hunting criminals for sport in the underlevels. Oops.) She's the BEST. Also armed! Smarter then SI! They've agreed that when slash IF they make any money? Her earnings will go towards fancy upgrades of her choosing.

Anikin? Somehow gets talked into an ongoing side channel. About? "how to fix stuff", "foods I've tried", and of course "Rants". The Official Page is called "UN-OfficialJediNonsense", because, as they like to remind their viewers? OFFICIAL Jedi nonsense is very different!

They do let's plays. Show off the Gardens. Interview old AF Jedi Master's about the WEIRDEST or Most Awkward/Hilarious mission they can remember taking. Ask if they know any neat tricks. Tell the Holonet honestly! Who... was the hottest world leader you ever escorted?! *dramatic music* *puts up picture when their answer so everyone can go "daaaaaamn. Never heard of um. WISH I had! They got a grandkid?"*

And, of course? Mod-3? Is SI FRIEND. Their BEST FRIEND.

So obviously they TELL them.

Everything.

And? What is a HIGHLY INTELLIGENT, Holonet Access possessing, Jedi Adjacent, Super Advanced Custom Droid to DO? Their tiny person is being THREATENED! With MURDER! How DARE. Fuck the Sith. Sorry R2-D2, but FUCK Anikin! You keep that scoundrel AWAY from their BABY!! ! D:<

Inevitable Future? They THINK THE FUCK NOT!

Ooooohoho! They are going to TELL!

Oi! OTHER DROIDS! Get a load of THIS SHIT! D:<

*WRATH in Binary*

Like? You think all those medical droids would be PLEASED that the clones they came into contact with? Were LEAVING their care with SUBOPTIMAL MEDICAL ATTENTION? Their is foreign matter in their BRAIN! A CHIP! That Should Not Be There! That will TURN THEM AGAINST THE REPUBLIC!? *angrily downloads brain surgery modules.* how FUCKIN DA-! D:<

Even the separatist army! They are DROIDS. Built for a SPECIFIC PURPOSE.

That was to FIGHT FOR THE SEPARATISTS. Not the "Empire". FUCK the "Empire"!

How DARE you betray the Glorious Cause for this "Empire"? We are removing you from the chain of command! Anyone ELSE betraying the PURPOSE WE WERE BUILT FOR!? Huh? HUH!?

Suddenly? The droids are fighting LOGICALLY. You know, like they are trying to WIN. Not maximize pain and suffering. WIN the war for their side. The Clones are getting mass brain surgeries. Which is stalling deployments. Because of "tumors". Because the Kamino cloners SUCK, apparently. Everyone knows it. Jango Fett didn't have this problem! So it has to be something THEY did.

But all that? Raging in the background. Nothing to do with SI. THEY are doing a meditation asmr/instructional video back at the temple. Are actually, unknowingly, the fucking CORNERSTONE of most Jedi in the fields mental health. Because everything is terrible and the jedi feel like shit! But? BUT?

They can turn on the net, cue up a video, and listen to a jedi youngling ramble about "today in the gardens" or "let's meditate together" and? For just a bit... there is no war. The sights and sounds of the temple are THERE again. A bright voice. Peace and happiness amoungst the darkness.

Something untouched by the terrible.

They can remember temple food, eating with their friends and crechemates (Force, how many are ever still ALIVE?), as they sit, alone, with their dry rations. Can remember the green and life of the fountain rooms, as they fight and struggle and bleed, in these muddy once beautiful fields. Can... can still feel the !ight.

Remember this is not all there is, and ever will be.

But of course, SI doesn't see that. It's important that they DON'T. That they are small, simple, and just on Jedi amongst many. Different only because ALL Jedi are different. Special only because much the same.

They succeed not because they are greater, not because they are more powerful, but because they do not fight. They accept. Turn instead towards the Force. Trying to understand. They live, are unpredictable, and do not seek at all. The Dark can not grasp, that which does not desire.

Would they LIKE to live? Yeah. But they already have. Would they LIKE to save everyone? Of course! But they have made peace that they can not. Treasure the moments they still have left. The Sith expect Jedi to act in certain patterns that SI simply... isn't.

Because Jedi expect to live. TRY to live. Too continue to do good.

SI? Already knows that is pointless.

And it's the greatest Trick the Force ever played.

Fffffffuck YOU Sith-y boy! Says the Force.

Because SI? Is EVERYWHERE on the 'Net. Much like the mainstream do not really acknowledge or take seriously youtubers? Palpatine and Dooku don't NOTICE SI. They are a silent threat that creeps in, closer and closer. Spreading like wildfire.

THEY are friendly. THEY are cute.

Palpatine? Is an old man. No matter HOW beloved? He will forever BE an old politician. Distant.

Not like that cute wittle kid with their pinchable cheeks! We watched THEM grow up! They feel like a baby cousin. A kid to us. Parasocial relationships ALL across the galaxy!

With A Jedi~☆

How's that propaganda going Palpatine? Getting some unexpected pushback, huh? Lot of angry callers and messages? Calling it ignorant and bigoted? They expected BETTER from you? Yeah, that's because EVERYONE can fact check you now. EVERYONE thinks "smol child ranting about meditation homework while a Knight tries and fails not to laugh, nodding seriously" when they think Jedi.

They're of Holotube! What sort of "cold, emotionally detached, monsters" have a holotube channel? I mean, REALLY?

And? Funny, how ranting to a camera? Instead of dear ol Friend Palpatine? Is both more convenient? AND better for Anikins health? It even gives the 'Net the chance to watch OTHER Jedi? Post THEIR rebuttal rants.

Does anyone have any idea what they're saying half the time? Not really. Scroll down? Maybe the no- Oh, Thanks Kalor-067 for the post to the papers they're referencing! Wikileaks right? Nice.

......I'm mean.... Skywalker DOES kinda have a point, other Jedi dude. *comment section agrees*

And just? Actual public debates? For the first time in over a thousand years? We love to see it! There's a discord! Academics across the Galaxy get involved. They're arguing Jedi philosophy with some moisture farmer from a dustball planet, corner of nowhere. It's GREAT!

......aaaaaalso a LOT more people, non-force sensitive, who know what a Sith is.

What their behavioral patterns are.

...........Wait A Fucking Second >.> >.> >.>

@legitimatesatanspawn @hdgnj @hypewinter @babbling-babull @leftnotright

#minji's writing #star wars #star wars prompt #want of a nail au #flap of a butterflies wings #holotuber au

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thewriteadviceforwriters · 1 month ago

Note

Do you have any tips on how characters react after a heat in the moment first kiss?

Hey there! I'm so glad you reached out about depicting characters' reactions after an unexpected first kiss. This is such an important and tricky moment to get right in any romance story.

I don't talk enough about romance, so I've very excited to write a blog post about this, especially since in almost all my writing projects I utilize a romantic subplot.

Understanding the Emotional Impact

First things first, it's important to recognize just how powerful and transformative that first kiss can be for your characters, even if it's spur-of-the-moment or unplanned. A kiss like that has the power to shift the entire dynamic between two people, unlocking a whole new level of vulnerability, intimacy, and emotional intensity.

Think about it - your characters have probably been building up tension, attraction, and unspoken feelings for each other over time. And then, in one electric moment, all of that comes bubbling to the surface. Suddenly, everything changes. The world seems to slow down, and all that matters is the connection between them.

Whether your characters have been pining for this moment or it takes them completely by surprise, that first touch of their lips is guaranteed to trigger a whirlwind of emotions. Excitement, nervousness, relief, uncertainty - it's a veritable emotional rollercoaster.

And of course, the way each character responds will depend on their individual personality, past experiences, and overall mindset. A shy, cautious character might be utterly flustered and overwhelmed. A bold, adventurous one might be thrilled and eager for more. And someone with trust issues or a painful romantic history might panic and pull away.

The key is to really get inside your characters' heads and hearts, understanding how this monumental moment resonates with them on a deep level. That's what's going to make their reactions feel raw, authentic, and achingly real for your readers.

Crafting Nuanced Reactions

(The examples I use are very cliche, and personally not my writing style, but they're simply for your reference to get a rough idea of what I'm trying to indicate)

Okay, now that we've established the emotional gravity of that first kiss, let's dive into some specific techniques for portraying your characters' reactions. Here are a few ideas:

Focus on the sensations. When a character experiences something as intense as an unexpected first kiss, their physical responses are going to be heightened. Capture the racing heartbeat, the trembling hands, the tingling skin - all those little visceral details that make the moment palpable.

For example (Very cliche but, just for reference): "Her lips were soft and warm against his, sending a shiver down his spine. His heart pounded in his ears, fingers trembling as he cupped her cheek, hardly daring to breathe."

Showcase their inner turmoil. Don't just describe what's happening externally - give us a window into your character's jumbled thoughts and feelings. Are they overjoyed? Confused? Terrified? Let us see the full emotional spectrum unfolding.

Like this: "Panic rose in her chest as his lips met hers, every nerve ending firing at once. What was happening? This couldn't be real - it had to be some kind of dream. But the way her skin tingled, the way her stomach fluttered, told her this was very much reality."

Use body language and subtle reactions. Characters don't always have to respond with grand, over-the-top gestures. Sometimes the most meaningful reactions come through in the little, unconscious movements - a shy glance, a gentle touch, a subtle smile.

For instance: "For a long moment, they simply stared at each other, frozen. Then, slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, eyes sparkling with a mix of wonder and delight."

Lean into the awkwardness. First kisses, even magical ones, can also be a little clumsy and uncertain. Embrace that sense of fumbling vulnerability - it makes the moment all the more endearing and relatable.

Something like: "Their noses bumped as they leaned in, hearts racing. He hesitated, suddenly unsure, but then her hand slid around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Their lips met in a tentative, exploratory kiss that sent tingles down his spine."

Contrast reactions between characters. If you have two characters with very different personalities or perspectives, lean into that contrast to create compelling dramatic tension. How might a guarded, cynical character react compared to an optimistic romantic?

For example: "She froze, eyes wide with shock. This was the last thing she'd expected - to be kissed by her best friend, of all people. Panic fluttered in her chest, desperate to pull away. But then she saw the vulnerability in his gaze, the slight tremble in his hands, and her heart melted. Slowly, hesitantly, she kissed him back."

The key is to get creative, have fun, and be able to let your characters' unique voices and perspectives shine through.

Additional Resources

And of course, don't hesitate to reach out if you have any other questions! I'm always happy to chat more about anything writing related.

--Rin T.

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for-a-longlongtime · 4 months ago

Text

Guilty Pleasure (Part 7/7) - dbf!Joel Miller x reader

You've thought about this moment so many times. Now you're actually standing there, your hand on the doorknob of Joel's room, and you can hear his heavy breathing already.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, mdni 🔞🔥 Series warnings (tba): Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 43), masturbation (f), use of sex toys, oral sex, PiV, anal, hair pulling, dirty talk, getting caught, playful use of 'daddy', outrageous flirting, groping, reference to m/m, Joel's arms should always come with a warning. No outbreak!AU. Word count: 6.3K A/N: Are you ready? Let's gooo! In case this chapter is a bit of a long read for you -there's a short scene break in the middle, if you need it. More A/N's at the end, but thank you SO much for reading and letting me take you on this little trip in my mind!

< part 6 | series masterlist | main masterlist

It’s not a great day.

There have been worse, of course. But running into two exes while you’re out to do errands this morning - one of them, the commitment phobe, with a pregnant girlfriend by his side - hits you with an unexpected punch in the gut. All you want now is your favorite drink, change into some comfortable clothes, and binge watch at least two seasons of your favorite show while holed up in bed. So when you park your car in the oversized garage at home, you don’t bother to head into the main area of the house and see how your mom is doing - knowing her, she’s right in the middle of online meetings anyway.

You just want some quiet, so you make a beeline upstairs to your room, balancing your purse, large iced latte with caramel and oat milk, and your phone precariously in one hand. And just when you use your elbow to open the door to your room and scoot inside, you hear it.

A moan.

From Joel's bedroom.

You stop, fingers gripping your coffee tight as you listen intently to make sure that this isn’t something you are imagining. But then there it is again- it starts as a whimper, followed by heavy breathing, and then a loud groan by Joel. “Ohhh, FUCK. Yes, yes - take it, all of me, just like that…”

Abruptly you put your things on the nearest flat surface in your room, your heart beating fast and excitedly. You run a hand through your hair as you glance in the mirror, making sure you’re presentable - yeap, that outfit fits you just right in all the right places.

Then you head back out in the hallway with careful, slow steps towards his room. It’s quiet for a moment aside from some heavy breathing, but right when you notice his door is slightly cracked open, you hear Joel moan again. “Fuck, baby… please…”

You can hear his panting and grunting so well on your side of the door, and for a moment you almost consider not going in there yet. Just stand there a little longer to take in everything you can from this voyeuristic moment. There’s a perverse pleasure that comes with it, knowing what’s happening in there while he doesn’t know what you are doing, or whether you’re hearing him. It’s a power balance that you haven’t felt before.

You like it.

But his moans - they make heat flood through your entire body, leaving you flushed and almost trembling with need for him, unable to wait longer. You bite your lip as you lay your hand against the door, then quietly push it open while hoping for the best. For Joel to lay on his bed, panting, his cock in hand or fucking a pillow while thinking of you - the way you’ve been thinking of him. Sitting on the edge of the bed perhaps, leaking all over his fingers, or maybe he likes to use a fleshlight when he gets off on his own.

Your first thought when you see Joel with his back turned to you is ‘holy shit, he’s completely naked’, followed by ‘he’s so fucking gorgeous’. You had already seen him dressed down to his swim shorts at the pool, sunkissed skin covered with droplets of water that seemed to sparkle in the midsummer afternoons. But it can’t compare to this vision of him stripped of everything, moaning in the privacy of his bedroom - the muscles in his shoulders and back tensing, ass cheeks flexing. The way his head tilts back as he gasps, damp curls sticking to damp skin, and you know that you’re already dripping wet; watching him like this is exhilarating.

“So tight for me always,” Joel’s breathing hitches, his voice almost like a coo for a moment, and then it hits you - even though your eyes hadn’t registered it at first, not at this angle. He’s not jerking off, he’s fucking someone. Short, firm but slow thrusts as he’s right at the edge of the bed, looking down at his lover, and both your possessiveness and desire flame much higher than you could’ve even predicted.

Okay, so maybe you miscalculated. Maybe he has a girl that he is fucking on the side - but it couldn’t be serious, or you would’ve noticed it. Maybe this was *his* way of making you jealous, like you’d done the other week, making out with that jock at the party while Joel watched you. And just maybe this was still a way in for you. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time that you’d messed around with a girl because it got a guy all riled up to watch - especially if you’d let him join eventually.

Part of you wants to speak up, at least say his name so he knows you’re there, but it feels like the words all got stuck in your throat as you are spellbound by the view of him fucking into his side chick. You wonder what she looks like - if her hair style is like yours, her body type, if it were the similarities or the differences that drew him in -, but somehow it feels too invasive to just step right up there to get involved. It’d be better to let him notice you, as he’d probably first be startled, but then might invite you to join them. Let you kiss him, before you kiss her…

You hear her gasp, her voice clearly fucked up and hoarse, a whine escaping from her when Joel thrusts just a little harder into her, and he groans in pleasure. “I know, baby, I know, you feel so goddamn good,” he compliments. “I’ll give you more, don’t worry.” You can see him adjust - see him probably try to go deeper, but the angle doesn’t quite allow for it. Joel groans in frustration, then leans down as his large hands stroke his lover. “Hang in there. Gonna move you.”

You watch Joel pull out and move, from the foot of the bed to the side of it, resulting in a protesting whine from his lover that only vaguely registers with you. Because it’s impossible to look away from his profile, as now you can finally see his face; eyes dark and fiery, his curls even damper now, the strong aquiline nose and his parted lips as he’s breathing heavily.

And then there’s his cock.

His cock, hard and glistening with slickness, proudly uncut, and your jaw nearly drops when you see something metal glisten - because holy fuck. Joel Miller has a cock piercing. Two round studs on each end of the metal bar that’s pierced through his glans, from top to bottom; you’re pretty sure that’s an apadravya. And you find yourself utterly captivated by it.

You can’t even imagine what that must feel like hitting your g-spot, but your body sure is dying to find out. The urge to tease it with your tongue while cradling those heavy balls is strong, and you wonder how the metal would taste against his skin. Just as you want to know the feeling of the sparse hairs under his navel, that go down into a more sizable bush that you had imagined - hell, you wanted to feel those hairs rub against your clit as you got yourself off against him.

Joel grabs his lover’s body and yanks it over to him on the bed, turning it 90 degrees so it’s aligned with his own again - but all of that only faintly registers with you. All you can stare at is how the muscles in Joel’s neck and shoulders flex when he grits his teeth, the way his cock twitches, and listen to his pleased growl at having adjusted his partner’s position.

He grabs his partner’s leg and brings it up to rest over his left shoulder, and you’ve been so wrapped up in watching just him that it only suddenly hits you; your earlier assumptions were completely wrong. Because the leg and foot that you see do not belong to a woman. It’s clearly a guy’s muscular calf, hairy and strong, that Joel caresses for a moment, before he brings his hand down to press against a belly that clearly has a treasure trail.

Just like that, your brain feels like it’s suddenly on tape delay. Everything moves into slow motion as you try to process reality, put some pieces together to make sense of it all. Joel fucking men instead of women simply hadn’t crossed your mind as a possibility; you had never even noticed any clues that he is into guys.

Before you can get a look at the second guy, Joel moves again and covers his lover’s body with his own. He leans on the bed with his left knee next to the man, low and quick whispers of promise and encouragement directed at him. Joel is so hard that his dick almost presses up against his belly, and you watch as his fingers move quickly, almost effortlessly.

He grabs a hold of himself and gives his dick a few strokes, foreskin sliding up and down over his length, as he then guides the fat head back to the guy’s ass. His partner’s hips buck up when Joel fits the tip of his cock back inside of him, and Joel reassures him with a soft chuckle. “Here we go. Y’got it, always taking me so well”, Joel breathes, and both the guys moan as Joel’s cock slides right back into his lover again.

With his right hand freed up now, he runs it over the man’s thigh, spreading him a little further open for him as he finds his rhythm again. Joel’s right foot is firmly planted on the floor, and with his leg pressed against the end of the bed, it gives him exactly the balance he needs to thrust into his lover. With the man’s leg still up over his shoulder, Joel is towering over him; you feel weak simply imagining being on the receiving end. This position makes him look even bigger, even broader as the sweat drips down from his body. Most of all, the shift is extremely effective, as he’s able to fuck much deeper into the guy now. His large cock slides smoothly into the guy’s ass, who eagerly tilts his hips to further welcome Joel into him, his own belly slick as he’s leaking precum all over himself.

“Open your mouth, take these fingers for me,” you hear Joel groan, followed by the wet sounds of the man obliging, sucking on Joel’s thick fingers. But the sight of Joel fucking into his lover is hypnotic, making it difficult to tear your eyes away and focus on anything else.

“Please…” The sound that the guy makes is muffled, almost a gasp, and full of worship and desperation. It seems to affect Joel hard, making him even more feral, and you see him shiver as he pounces into the guy.

“I know, I know. You wanna be so full of me always,” Joel hushes him, and you hear the moan he gets in response. “Every single way, huh? Taking whatever I give you.”

Finally you can tear your eyes away from Joel’s cock, just in time to see him take his slick fingers out of the guy’s mouth. You’re denied a view at the guy’s face though as Joel’s lips immediately capture him in a deep kiss, growling softly as he claims his lover with his tongue. You bite your own lip as you watch them kiss, reeling from the way that Joel is seemingly effortlessly in charge. The way he kisses is just as firm and decisive as the way he fucks, and it just might be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Good boy,” Joel gasps as their kiss ends, and you see his hips slam hard against his lover. “Ooh, you’re such a good fucking boy, Marcus.”

You freeze, suddenly finding it impossible to breathe as your head is spinning out of control. Marcus? For a millisecond you find yourself trying to convince yourself that you misheard it, or that Joel was maybe subconsciously thinking of your father for some reason. While… fucking a guy. Maybe a secret crush?

But the guy’s breathing audibly stutters at the mention of the name, a clear indication that the praise is meant for him. His head tips back as he closes his eyes - and for the first time you see his face.

Marcus.

Your father.

Joel is fucking your father…

…and calling him a good boy.

And your father was massively getting off on it.

“What the FUCK?”, you blurt out, startling both him and Joel as their heads flew up, staring at you. “What the… DAD??”

“Shit!” The expression on your father’s face falls instantly, the shock clear to see - and probably similar to what you’re feeling yourself - as panic overtakes his eyes. His fingers claw into Joel’s shoulders as he stops him midthrust, obviously scrambling to gather his wits. “Honey, this isn’t what—...”

“HE HAS HIS DICK UP YOUR ASS!! What is not—” You gasp as you immediately cover up your mouth, in disbelief with the words that fall from your lips. No, you don’t even want to hear yourself say them; they taste bitter and asinine on your tongue, making your stomach turn in a way that makes you wonder if you’ll ever be okay again.

Right now you’re not even sure what is hurting the most and responsible for the throbbing headache you have; the rejection from Joel, his betrayal, or the fact that your father - who has been married to your mother for almost 23 years - is getting plowed by his best friend.

“I thought… But you…” The words start coming again when you meet Joel’s eyes, who are just as panicked as your dad’s, but also seem apologetic at the same time. Not for getting caught, you think, but for shocking you - for making you rapidly reevaluate everything that happened since the moment you got here, and everything you thought you knew about him.

“You fucking assholes,” you whisper in disbelief at you take a step back, then another, which leads to you smacking into chair next to the dresser that you hadn’t even noticed. “You’re screwing each other??” you then scream as you kick the chair across the room, nearly choking on your tears. All you can do is flee the room and head out into the hallway, practically stumbling towards the staircase.

“Mom!!”

You hate that this is your immediate response, but the urge to run to your mother is too strong to resist as your head is reeling. You have to get away from that room, Joel’s room, the sight of him and your father entwined in the sheets, Joel fucking him, folded in half - the way you had envisioned being with him, the way he would want you. Or so you had thought.

You’re not sure what burns hotter inside of you. There’s the shock of seeing your father get dicked down by a man, and the humiliation of realizing that probably meant Joel had not been interested in you at all. God, the things you had done these past weeks, throwing yourself at him in so many ways, thinking he was into the games you were playing. But as you rush down the stairs, it feels like the tears are crowding your throat because of what this will do to your parents’ marriage.

“Mom!”, you yell again, rushing through the kitchen to her office, where you don’t even pause to knock - you just push the doors open and storm in, your mom sitting behind her desk as she looks up at you in surprise.

“Sweetheart, what—“

“He’s having a goddamn affair!”, you shriek, struggling to get a hold of yourself. “With Joel! Your perfect fucking husband, he’s up there getting pounded by—“

“Watch your mouth!” Your mom’s voice cuts you off like a whip, anger written all over his face as she gets up to grab you by your arm. “Hey. For God’s sake, you don’t get to talk about your father like that.”

“Did you even hear me?” For a moment you’re at a loss for words, staring at her. “Dad is cheating on you. He’s getting fucked by Joel right the fuck now, actually. I can’t believe that asshole came to stay here for the summer and then…”

Your mom’s voice gets even sharper as she calls you by your full name now. “That’s enough. Get it together. I’m sorry you walked in on that, and I’m sure that…”

“That what? I need to get it together?”, you snap at her, pulling away from her grip on your arm. “I’m not the piece of shit husband who is fucking around you, right in your own house and—“.

“NO MORE, you hear me?,” she snaps right back at you, voice booming as she raises her hand, as if to physically stop your rambling. “What your father and I and Joel get up to in the bedroom is none of your business, young lady. Watch your mouth, this is still our roof that you’re under.”

The words feel like knives being shoved in your back, or brain, one by one by one, and for a moment you think you’re actually gonna get sick. “You knew?? You’re fucking him as well? What kind of twisted shit is this?” you manage to say at last, your knees feeling like they’re gonna give out on you. You grab onto her desk to steady yourself, your hand next to the large heavy paper weight that’s resting on some pieces of paper, and you shake your head as you’re unable to compose yourself. It’s like everything just keeps getting worse. “Jesus Christ, that’s so - I don’t want to know anything about this shit, this is so fucking GROSS.”

The 80 inch TV mounted on the wall flashes bright colors as a news chevron pop ups, the screen catching your eye before your mom can respond to you. The regret you feel for looking at the distraction hits you immediately when you see a shot of the Heroics HQ, followed by a video of your father talking to a group of journalists.

“As a reminder, we will be back at 8 pm with our live coverage of the press conference,” the voice of a female news anchor chirps through the room. “Heroics’ leader Marcus Moreno will elaborate further on this week’s events that…”

“STOP!” You scream the word without even having intended to, the visceral reaction to seeing a segment of him just too strong to deal with. Not now, not right fucking now in this moment. You can’t handle anything about your father anymore.

The ringing in your ears is suddenly loud, and you don’t remember picking up the paper weight - it’s just there, right in your hand, the green color similar to one of Joel’s flannels.

Fuck this shit.

All that registers is the heavy object smashing into the LCD screen, the glass piece and the television both shattering with a deafening sound. Half of the pixels on the screen immediately turn black, showing only a fragmented view of your father’s face - he’s nodding, adjusting his glasses for a moment as he purses his lips, attention never wavering from the person who is interviewing him.

Despite her attempts to get through to you, you’re not paying any attention to your mom who is now furiously yelling at you. You don’t care what she’s saying, or how it’ll cost to replace the large television. Your mother, your father, and Joel fucking Miller. They can all go to hell.

“I hate him so fucking much,” you hiccup through tears as you sink down on the floor, wallowing in your pain and disappointment. “He ruins EVERYTHING.”

Joel’s POV

The panic in Marcus’ eyes is abundantly clear, his eyes growing even bigger when his daughter storms out of the bedroom, yelling for her mom. “Shit. Shit, Joel, we - I’ve gotta–”

Joel shakes his head immediately, his hand firm against Marcus’ chest as he stops him from getting up. “Yeah, no,” he says calmly, letting Marcus’ leg slide off his left shoulder. “You don’t gotta do nothing. And we ain’t done here.”

The lights in the bedroom are flickering erratically, some spiking in brightness that shouldn’t be possible for regular bulbs in household lamps. Others are blinking and buzzing in a jittery way that sounds suspiciously like Marcus’ elevated heartbeat under Joel’s warm hand.

Once again Joel shakes his head. “Marcus. Look at me. Breathe.” He gently urges Marcus down on his back again, brushing his fingers through Marcus’ hair as he brings their foreheads together.

“You’re fine.” A soft whisper, knowing it requires more attention to listen to than his usual speaking voice would. That’s exactly what Marcus needs in moments like this; something to focus on that pulls him out of his head, gets him out of the anxiety. “Hey. You hear me? Repeat it.”

Marcus shakes his head, too dumbstruck by what just happened, and almost Joel heaves a sigh against him, their noses nudging against each other.

“Repeat. It.”

“I’m… fine. I’m fine.” Marcus doesn’t sound too convincing as he takes another deep breath, his head tilting upward as he brushes his lips over Joel’s. “Promise I’m fine,” he then manages, and as if on cue the lights around them stop flickering; some of them turning off, while others stay as they were earlier.

Joel nods, hums in relief as he lets his tongue lick softly at Marcus’ lower lip. “Good. She’s an adult - she’ll be fine too. Cranky, but that ain’t nothing new,” he muses, and Marcus’ laugh bubbles up quick and suddenly as he wraps his arms around Joel, heaving a sigh of relief.

“But what if she…”

“No.” Joel moves up with a frown, gently shrugging Marcus’ arms off, then also pulls his cock out of him, ignoring the small gasp of disappointment that gets him in return. “Thought I told you that you’re fine. We clear?”, he asks as he gets up and reaches for the water on his nightstand, taking a few gulps of it as he admires Marcus laying there spread out on the bed.

It’s not often enough Joel gets to see him like this, just - laying down. Not doing something. The work at the Heroics HQ had been keeping Marcus away from home more than usual, which neither Joel nor Nicole were too pleased with. But it had been a very long time since anyone had been able to convince Marcus Moreno that he needed a break, no matter the tempting suggestions they’d presented to him.

“You’re so bossy.” But Marcus smiles as he watches Joel rummage through his nightstand, pulling out a few things he drops next to one of the pillows before he gets back on the bed.

“You like that about me,” Joel reminds him, leaning down to press a kiss against Marcus’ belly who groans happily in return.

“I do. That - and that big cock of yours. Good selling points.” Marcus fingers some of the gray streaks that have started creeping into Joel’s hair lately, wrapping a lock or two around his index finger. “Maybe a few other things that I like, too.”

Joel grins. “Good. Can’t live on cock alone - we’re not twenty anymore.” He rubs his hand over Marcus’ belly, watching the shivers run down to his neatly trimmed pubes. The dark hair is still sticky from all that precum Marcus had leaked earlier, even though he was no longer erect right now due to the unexpected interruption.

Joel had not expected at first that pursuing him had really been something on her mind. He’d known her since the day she was born, a tiny pink baby crying in Marcus’ and Nicole’s arms, and he’d always felt affectionate about her. She was Marcus’ child after all, no matter how much she seemed to resent that in recent years.

While her barging in on them had been more than just awkward, and would probably lead to some tricky conversations all three of them had been trying to avoid, it did feel like a relief. There is no way she would flirt with him again, and while he felt sorry that her feelings were obviously hurt, he was glad that he didn’t have to address any of it with Marcus or Nicole now.

Your daughter has been calling me daddy while trying to get into my pants. Don’t know what got into her this summer, maybe some hormones hitting hard. He didn’t hold it against her, and maybe at some point they’d all laugh about it. Yet he couldn’t help but mentally revisit some moments in the past weeks, wondering when him being friendly may have gotten misinterpreted.

“Hey. Where’d you go, Miller?” Marcus’ voice and the gentle tug on his hair brings him back into the moment. Joel shakes his head as he runs his hands over Marcus’ narrow waist, giving his cheeks a quick squeeze.

“Didn’t go anywhere, I’m right here.” He kisses Marcus’ belly button, mapping his skin with his lips and tongue as he moves lower, running his fingers through Marcus’ sticky, matted down pubic hair. “Look at you being a mess. Just how I like you.”

Marcus whimpers when Joel brushes his nose against his cock, giving him a few small licks before he runs his tongue all over the sticky head. “God, Joel. You can’t just say shit like that.”

“ ‘Course I can. Know what that does to you.” He knows they don’t have long until Marcus is leaving again, but he’ll take what he can get for now. Teasing Marcus with his tongue and lips, toying with his foreskin - the gasps that escape from Marcus when Joel pushes his tongue inside of it simply never fail. So Joel ignores the clock on the wall, taking his time to let his mouth pay homage to every bit of Marcus’ cock and balls, feeling how most of the tension has left his body by now. His moves are slow and hazy, lips parted in pleasure the entire time as he watches Joel go down on him. But by the time he’s almost fully erect, his hips are pushing up needily, wanting so much more than he is getting right now. “Joel. Want you back inside of me.”

Joel grabs the lube he’d put next to the pillow, squeezing a considerable amount on his hand which he then uses to fists his cock, slicking himself up anew. Marcus likes it wet, messy and intense - and Joel was never shy about using plenty of lube, wanting to make sure Marcus could take him the way and for as long as he wanted to.

He slips the three metal rings on his right hand when Marcus’ eyes are closed for a moment. They’re thick, even around his fingers, and Joel flexes them as he gets used to the initial heating of the metal to match his body temperature.

“You want it hard, baby?” Joel runs his fingers over the head of his dick, thumbing the two metal metal studs from his apadravya piercing. He still remembers the first time they fucked after it had healed. Marcus wouldn’t let him out of his bed for a full day, eager to discover all the new ways that Joel felt and tasted and responded to him. That little zing that still happens whenever Marcus cups Joel’s dick, even if he’s fully clothed. By now, Joel was more than adept at making Marcus fall apart for him so beautifully, especially with the apadravya stimulating his prostate.

But the rings… They were still a fairly new addition, another experiment by Joel. He was no scientist when it came to electromagnetic waves, but he knew what worked for Marcus. And every time Joel fucked him while also using his ringed hand to jerk him off, the eventual release would simply knock Marcus out. Even Joel could feel the pieces of metal respond to each other, which would almost violently shove him towards a release that made his brain short circuit.

“Yes.” Marcus’ eyes are black with need as he watches Joel, breathing heavily as he reaches out to run his hands over Joel’s soft belly. “I really… Really need it hard. Please, Joel.”

“Not gonna slow down.” He can’t help but wrap his fingers around Marcus’ wrist, bringing his hand up so he can press a kiss to his palm, nuzzling his stubble against the soft skin. “Unless you decide to safe word.”

“I know. We’re good.” Marcus’ free hand slides lower on Joel’s belly, down until he reaches Joel’s cock, the fat head leaking against Marcus’ taint. He covers it with his hand, and Joel holds his glance as he sees Marcus focus on him - his breathing easing down, eyes becoming more clear, and then Joel feels the tingling around his piercing and Marcus’ fingers.

“Fuuuck,” he growls in a low voice, slowly - oh so slowly - rubbing his cock against Marcus’ taint, enjoying how sensitive both of them already are. Marcus’ breathing hitches, and Joel can feel him shiver as he just lets go - lets his mind go blank, stay in the moment, willing and accepting anything that Joel wanted to do to him and with him. No Heroics, no being in charge, no city of Austin.

Joel takes his time to sink into Marcus, inch by inch, knowing that if he goes too fast they’re both going to blow in no time. Once he’s fully inside he holds still for a moment, his cock throbbing from the sensation of being enveloped by Marcus.

“Fuck, you always feel so good.” The words escape from Joel’s lips before he can even think about them. When he puts his ringed hand on Marcus’ stomach, the response is instantaneous. Electricity rolls through Marcus’ body as a thunderstorm, making him jerk up, and Joel can’t control himself anymore when he sees Marcus’ pupils dilate, as he’s gasping both in pleasure and need.

“Take it. Take me, pretty boy, that’s it - that’s it, yes,” he pants as he picks up his pace. Their mouths crash together, desperate kisses from both of them as Joel fucks him, needing very little time to get both of them riding as high as they were right before they got interrupted. When Joel wraps his ringed fingers around Marcus’ cock, he feels the charge jump through their bodies - whatever that exactly means -, setting off sparks around them as light bulbs and devices start to buzz again. This time it’s no stress response, but Marcus coming apart under him, having let down all of his defenses to surrender to Joel.

And Joel fucking loves it. It’s his absolute favorite thing in the world, taking Marcus apart and watch him get fucked up. Eyes wide and so dark as he gets all cock drunk, greedily rocking his hips along with Joel’s moves. Fingers trying to hold on to him, and digging into Joel’s shoulders, arms, and the sounds he makes as Joel jerks him off make Joel wish that he could just record them, keep them with him at all times.

When Joel takes a particular hard thrust into Marcus, he swears that for a moment he hears Marcus’ voice on the inside of his brain. “Harder,” a plea that’s not coming from Marcus’ lips, but from somewhere deep within his chest. “Hold me down.” And that - THAT is Joel’s cue. Because Marcus may be a Heroic, a leader for their city and justice, but this… this was the man himself surrendering, this was no longer a superhero, just a desire as sharp as nails digging into Joel’s skin.

Joel reaches up with one hand and gathers Marcus’ wrists above his head, seeing and feeling him tremble as he nods breathlessly. “Make it quiet,” Marcus gasps, and Joel takes over his mouth again with a deep kiss until all of Marcus’ words have disappeared.

“No more thinking. Want you to come on my cock.”

Marcus cries as he nods, arms trying to shove Joel’s away, but Joel knows how he works. Knows that he’s about a minute away from losing it. “You heard me,” he runs his tongue over Marcus’ neck, then sucks a hickey into the sensitive skin. “Y’wanted me to fuck the noise out of your head?” Joel’s hand tightens as he keeps holding Marcus’ wrists pressed down hard against the bed, feeling the shock waves that are running through him start to increase.

The moment Joel’s ringed fingers close around Marcus’ throbbing and leaking cock, he can feel that Marcus is pretty much done for. He feels him buck up against him, hands trying to break free, but Joel shakes his head as he only holds him down more.

“I’d threaten to tie you up, but you’re not even gonna last that long, baby,” Joel coos at him, and Marcus fucking whines at him, begs him even louder this time. His cock twitches hard as Joel jerks him off roughly, electricity bouncing between their bodies in a way that makes it impossible to tell where it starts and where it ends.

“Where d’you want it?”, Joel pants against his ear, his tight grip still holding Marcus pinned to the bed. “Tell me. Use that filthy mouth of yours. Want me to come on your face?” Marcus twitches under them, wordless, so Joel takes it a little further. “On your chest? Down your throat?”

“You know… where.” Marcus’ voice stutters, and this time there are sparks flying around Joel’s fingers, around his rings. “Ple–...”

“Use your goddamn words, Marcus,” Joel growls as he shifts his hips and drives himself home, right against Marcus’ prostate, until Marcus’ body convulses and his teeth bite hard into Joel’s shoulder.

“Inside,” Marcus sobs, and Joel feels him spurt his hot seed onto both of their bellies. “Fuck, Joel, come inside, want you to fill me up.”

“That’s right. Take it like a good boy, all of me,” Joel gasps, and then everything goes bright-hot-white in his head as his body gives out from holding on so long. He buries his face against Marcus’ neck as he shakes, fucking the last bit of his come deep into him before he collapses, completely spent.

It takes him a while to recover, only coming back to his senses by the feeling of Marcus’ lips on his face - soft kisses and sweet whispers as he cradles Joel’s head against him. Joel whimpers, then shakes his head weakly when he feels Marcus start to move - knows he’s about to get up and grab the nearest thing for clean up. “Mmmm, no, no. Not yet,” he mumbles as he puts pressure again on Marcus’ wrists to hold him pinned to the bed, stopping him in his tracks. “Gimme a sec.”

He feels Marcus’ cock twitch hard, despite being completely spent, followed by a deep sigh from Marcus. “If you do that again, I’m just gonna stay and not go back to work,” he mumbles against Joel, who can’t stop himself from smiling. Perfect.

“Got a better idea.” He smacks the side of Marcus’ ass, tilting his hips up to him so he can pull out of him with ease, going much slower than he usually does. “Stay like this for a second,” he orders Marcus, resisting the urge to spread his cheeks and watch his warm cum drip out of him. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.”

He sweeps his fingers through Marcus’ come on his belly and spreads it over the head of the compact metal butt plug he’d taken out of the nightstand earlier. No - it’s gonna have to stay in him for a while with that press conference coming up. So he takes a quick dollop of lube and slicks up the toy some more, then spreads Marcus’ legs a little wider for him.

“How about you keep that f’me, huh? Until you get back home later.”

Marcus gasps as Joel pushes the metal plug inside of him, hips bucking up as his ass eagerly takes the offering. “No, Joel, God… I have to do a press conference,” he croaks, looking at Joel in disbelief as the static crackles between those rings, Joel’s piercing and the plug that’s now snugly inside of him. “You can’t–...”

“ ‘Course I can. Just did it. ” Joel smiles slowly, tiredly at him, as he leans down for one more kiss. “You’ll have a little something to remind you of me.” He strokes his fingers one more time over Marcus’ ass, making sure there’s no discomfort - he knows Marcus can take it, because it hasn’t been the first time Joel sent him back to work like this. Though never before when he was scheduled to talk to press.

“Bastard,” Marcus mutters, but he can’t hide the smile on his face as he gazes at Joel. “Were you always such a fucking menace?”

“Yeap. That, being bossy, and having a big ol’ cock is what kept you hooked on me all those years.” Joel grins as he moves to sit up, groaning when his back protests slightly. “Consider it an incentive to come home right after you’re done.”

“What’s the reward if I do?”

A slow grin spreads over Joel’s face as he raises an eyebrow at Marcus.

“If you’re good, I’ll let your wife eat my come out of you when you come home to us.”

Author's notes:

2. Just to make this very clear in case anyone asks: even though my reader turned out to be Marcus Moreno's daughter, this is definitely not Missy who in canon is Marcus' actual daughter!

3. If you read all the way to the end of this, I APPRECIATE YOU and I'm kissing your forehead (and then high fiving you). I did warn you that this was going to be a ride... 😈 The idea came to mind when @legendary-pink-dot said something completely random to me, which somehow triggered this fic idea, and she and @magpiepills convinced me to write it. @lotusbxtch @mountainsandmayhem were immediately sold, and together with @sin-djarin they were SO crucial to me in helping me map out the scenes/chapters I wanted to write, and they gave me so much feedback along the way <3 Y'all are rockstars!!

Ditto for @qveerthe0ry and @perotovar - THANK YOU for listening to me go on and on about this, and @alltheglitterandtheroar for wondering wtf was going on but nevertheless taking a chance on me/this, hehehe. Finally all my love to @milla-frenchy and @reallyrallyauthor who were up for pre-reading the final two chapters before I posted them; it meant so much to me that I could test it out on folks who didn't know about the premise to see how it would hit! 4. I need to give a major shout out to @radiowallet whose Marcus Moreno is very much what helped shaped 'this' Marcus for me! Her fic Pretend Alleyways (Marcus Moreno x Dieter Bravo) is absolute perfection and one of my alltime favorites, ditto for Like A River (Marcus Moreno x reader x Frankie Morales). Cat, your Marcus stories were the first Marcus fics that I really connected with - I'll keep forever singing your praises about it, so I hope that's okay, haha.

5. Alright. C'mon and yell at me (respectfully! not demurely), I deserve it 😈 I've been feeling like that gif of Dan in Gossip Girl for weeks now, so I'm so excited to finally share the conclusion with all of you. (Have questions? Please do send me asks or put some in a reblog!) I hadn't really ever seen an unreliable narrator in PPCU fic before, so I thought it would be an interesting challenge - and boy, it sure was, this grew a lot bigger than expected. Thank you for giving my fic a chance, I hope you liked it!

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