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alastor-simp · 1 year ago

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Horror Movie Night😈 - Alastor x Reader

Charlie wanted to find an activity to bring everyone together, since a lot of the personalities in the hotel would clash. She had made a list of ideas, but majority of them were turn down for being too childish. The last option was a movie night with everyone, and surprisingly everyone agreed. The genre of movie was the real problem. Charlie wanted a musical. Vaggie had a preference for drama. Angel dust preferred either a steamy flick (aka porn) or comedy. Niffty voted for romance. Husk didn't really care, but he wouldn't be upset if it was an action movie. Sir Pentious was interested in historical / documentaries. Alastor was not a big fan of modern technology especially television, but he would give it a try if the movie was a horror. You enjoyed all genres of movies, so it didn't matter which one you saw. Coming up with an idea, you suggested pulling a name out of the hat, to decide the genre of movie that gets picked. Borrowing Husk's hat for a bit, everyone wrote their name on a piece of paper and tossed it in. After a quick shake, you grabbed the first piece of paper and pulled it out.

Yelp, looks like it was going to be a horror movie as Al's was the name you pulled out. Everyone had made their way to the couch, while some of them sat on the floor. They were all dressed in their pajamas. Niffty had made popcorn and drinks for everyone to enjoy during the movie. Charlie was lighting some candles to add some effect when the movie was playing. Next to you on the couch was Alastor. He was wearing a red stripped top, and black lounge pants. He seemed very cozy. "Hey Al. What movie did you pick?" Alastor looked at you, smiling big as always. 'Well my dear, I picked whatever seemed interesting! I hope you will enjoy it!" Giving an awkward smile back, your eyes turned toward the TV as soon as Charlie pressed play. You didn't mind horror movies, but being the scaredy cat that you were, they still made you scream.

The movie that Alastor picked was "The Descent." The start of the film was a bit slow, but it slowly began to build up overtime. It got to the point in the movie where the characters had entered into the large cave, to explore. Yeah, that was already a red flag. Scanning your eyes around the room, you took in everyone's reactions. Charlie and Vaggie were hugging the life out of each other. Niffty was smiling, but she was clutching on to her plushie very tightly. Angel was on edge and tried to cling on to Husk, only to be pushed back by him. Angel huffed and decided to a least grab Husk's hand for comfort, and Husk allowed that at least. Sir Pentious was cowering on the floor, wrapping his whole tail around him. Alastor was just smiling next to you, obviously enjoying where the movie was going. You, on the other hand, was getting a very bad feeling in your stomach as the characters kept exploring the cave. The pillow that you were holding was being used as a shield as you kept hiding behind it, waiting for something to happen.

The climax of the movie had arrived when the grotesque bat-like monster had made an appearance and proceeded to feast on one of the characters. Everyone in the room had screamed and jumped, including you, as you covered your face with the pillow. There was a chuckle to your right as Alastor was laughing, at both the movie and your adorable reactions. From the start of the film, Al was seeking glances at you, wondering what your next reaction would be. The face you made when the dread set in was highly entertaining to him. However, he did pity you a bit, as he could see that the movie was frightening you tremendously. Unbeknownst to you, you felt someone drape their arm behind your shoulders, pulling your body closer towards them. Looking up from the pillow, it was clear that it was Al who had done it. His eyes were still watching the movie, clearly enjoying the gruesome moments. Not saying a word, you continued to watch the movie, but the feelings of fear had diminished a bit due to Alastor's actions. The movie had finally ended, as the credits began to flash on the screen. Everyone gave a sigh of relief, except Al . Clapping with glee, he found the movie quite invigorating. Vaggie rolled her eyes at him, while whispering "creepy weirdo" under her breath. It had gotten super late, so it was time to head for bed.

Wishing everyone a good night sleep, you carried yourself back to your room, despite the prickling sensation that you felt crawling up your back. That movie was still on your mind, but you tried to push the fear away. Alastor was following from behind , since the both of you were next door neighbors. "Feeling alright, my dear? That picture show had you shaking like a leaf!" He was definitely smirking when he said that. "No s✪✪✪, Sherlock." Grumbling your response back at him, you continued to make your way to your cozy abode. Having arrived at the door, you turned to Al, who had just arrived at his door. "Good night, Alastor." "You as well, my dear!" Making over to the bed, you laid down and got under the covers, adjusting yourself to get comfortable. It took a while, but the droopy feeling had taken effect on your eyes, and you fell into a deep sleep. Pitch blackness was all around you. The muscles in your body felt like they had been ripped apart. The air felt heavy, almost dry like you were underground. Something was moving around you, circling you, watching you. The monstrous sounds it made created a haunting echo. You begged your body to respond, it was no use. The sounds were coming closer. No. NO! You bellowed out a scream.

"Y/N!!" Someone was shaking you, causing your eyes to snap open. Your body was shaking and there were tears in your eyes. You slowly realized that you had a nightmare. Alastor was in front of you, hands on top of your shoulders. His glowing eyes eyeing you with concern, yet his smile was still present. "A-Al? W-what's wrong? W-why are you in m-my room?" Struggling out a response, your eyes looked at Al in confusion. "My dear, I had heard your shrieks of terror and rushed over! It appeared you were having a nightmare! A rather horrible one at that!" He was still holding on to you, which gave you some comfort. "Oh, I'm so sorry if I disturbed your sleep." Taking in a few deep breaths, helped tremendously as you were able to talk properly and control the shaking. Shaking his head, Al had let go of your shoulders, and moved his hands to your cheeks. "Darling, there is no need for you to apologize! But, may I ask what were you dreaming about?" Massaging your cheeks like a cat, Al smiled down at you, softness in his eyes. Explaining it in full detail, Al realized that the film you had witness, was the main cause of the night terror. He had known that you were scared, but not to the point it would result in you kicking and screaming in your sleep. He needed to rectify this.

"Come along, my dear!" Your body left the sanctity of your bed, and ended up in Alastors arms. He was carrying you like a bride. "W-what Al?! Where are you taking me?!" Whispering at him, while your brain was trying to wrap around this situation. Cocking his head to the side, he gave you an optimistic smile. "To my room!" There was no time to refute back as the both of you had arrived at his door. Creaking loudly, the door to his room had opened by itself. His room was like something out of a story book. One side was the normal room decor, illuminated with candle light. The walls were plastered with Alastor's personal trinkets and stag heads. The other side was saturated in moss, tall pine trees looming above. Chirps of crickets could be heard and glowing fireflies were flying around. Eyes widening in amazement, you continued to gaze around the room, earning a laugh from Al. In the center of the room, was an enormous bed, covered in satin sheets and black pillows. "How... How were you able to do this?" You breathed out, as Al placed you on the bed. Raising an eyebrow, he smiled down at you, wagging his finger. "Ah ah ah! A magician never reveals his secrets, my dear!" A thought popped in your head: "Where was he going to sleep." Snapping his fingers, Alastor used his powers to snuff out the flames from the candles, leaving only the fireflies as a source of light. Realization hit you, causing you to jump off the bed, leaving Al staring at you in confusion. "Wait Al! Are you okay with this? Sharing a bed?" Alastor looked at you, head crooked to the side. "Why of course! Are you oppose to the idea? Haven't you had your share of sleepovers with the effeminate spider?" Well yes you had, but this situation was different. "I'm not opposed to it, but I don't want you to do something you aren't comfortable with." You told Alastor this, rubbing your arm with your hand.

He was still befuddled by your statement until he began to wrap his head around of what you were saying. How charming you were! Thinking of him and his aversion to physical contact. "Darling, There is no need to worry." His body moved to crawl under the covers, sitting on the bed and looking at you. His finger pointed towards you, beckoning for you to return back to the bed. Still hesitant about the whole situation and observing his body language, it came to your decision that he was really okay with it. Your feet carried you back over, and slowly made its way under the covers, plopping your head on the pillow. Al huffed, a little annoyed that you didn't follow his instructions. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him. Your head was engulfed in his chest, feeling his chin, nuzzling it. "Comfortable, Y/N?" A warm breath whispered into your ear. His voice sent chills down your back, while also causing your heart to skip a beat. "Mmph" was your response, as your mouth was muffled against his chest. Hearing a hum from above, you felt Alastor nestle closer, hooking his leg over yours. The static emanating from him had quieted down and the thumping sound of his heart sounded much clearer. Extending out a yawn, your eyelids began droop while listening to the calming sound of Al's heartbeat. Soon, your eyelids had closed and you fell into a deep sleep.

Managing to stay awake, Al had watched you, making sure you were able to relax. He never in a million years thought he would be doing something like this. He was the radio demon, the most fearsome and all powerful overlord. Everyone trembled in fear from the sight of him, yet here he was now, cuddling you in his bed. He was getting soft, which displeased him greatly, yet he couldn't help but find it comforting as well. Your very-being was changing him, in both a good and bad way. Sighing, he pushed his thoughts away as he had a busy schedule tomorrow and needed to be well rested for his broadcast. Nuzzling closer, Alastor hugged you tighter. His glowing eyes dimmed and he had fallen asleep as well.

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lightseoul · 23 days ago

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a/n. i really don't know where i'm going with this, y'all. but getting to role-play as a therapist and explore bakugou's psyche has been lots of fun, so bear with me. please let me know what you think and/or would want to see! maybe that'll give me an idea lol. (1.1k)

navigation. part 1, part 2, (you are here)

“n-no.”

at that, the woman’s eyebrows shoot up, disappearing underneath her fringe. “no?”

“you heard me,” bakugou spits instinctively, immediately regretting how hostile that sounded not even a second later. “i mean, no, i didn’t.”

his therapist, apparently unfazed by his show of aggression—she must’ve gotten used to it by now, although he still feels bad when he gets testy—only jots something down in her clipboard before looking back up at him, an inexplicable expression etched across her features.

“do you have any ideas, then, why, for the first time in seemingly forever, you’re fixating on a particular social encounter?”

bakugou barely manages to bite back a scowl.

he hates it—this part. the part where his psychologist obviously has theories as to why he’s acting a certain way or how he’s actually feeling but chooses to ask him instead, in an attempt to draw it out of him.

as if talking about difficult shit in the first place isn’t already painful enough.

and isn’t that what he’s paying her to do? give him answers? why’d he have to be the one to wrack his brain for uncomfortable answers to uncomfortable questions?

“do you?” he then challenges, emboldened by that train of thought just now.

“yes,” she responds truthfully and without missing a beat it somewhat surprises him. “but as i’ve explained to you before, i think it’ll be helpful for you if we try a more active approach on your end so that any insights gleaned from our discussions become more personalized and stick with you longer.”

well, then. fuck.

the lady’s got a point.

“so,” she continues when he doesn’t reply, annoyingly aware her little spiel got to him, “any ideas? working hypotheses?”

“uh,” he starts begrudgingly, eyes roving over the bookshelves lining the room’s walls as he struggles to come up with another angle. then it dawns on him, and he looks directly at the woman. “i didn’t expect to see someone in here, and when i did, it caught me off guard.”

“that may be because most of our clients opt for virtual consultations rather than face-to-face ones.”

“yeah,” he piles on quickly, admittedly thankful for the validation, and for the fact. the absolute last thing he needs is to bump into some extras before and after therapy. “that must be why.”

“but how does that explain your, and i quote, ‘dumb as shit reaction’?”

bakugou instantly feels himself flame. he clears his throat, “i told you, didn’t i? it caught me off guard. how the fuck did you expect me to react?”

that must’ve been a reasonable point, thank the fuck, because the woman pauses in thought before nodding slowly. “i suppose you’re right.”

he narrowly bites back an of course, i am.

but then she’s spouting off again.

“although it’s interesting to me how your immediate reaction was to say hi, when that’s not really…how should i say, your style, based on our prior sessions and your personality test results.”

a pause.

bakugou scrambles for a bulletproof rebuttal. he comes up short.

the lady cocks her head to the side, curious. “how often would you say you mull over social blunders?”

never, he thinks to himself. because they never happen.

“i figured as much,” comes her unexpected reply, and only then does it dawn on him that he said the last bit out loud.

“can we talk about something else?” he finds himself suddenly asking, totally over this entire conversation. he can worry about being a loser and pathetically begging for an out some other time. right now, he just needs a break.

“actually, you’re in luck,” she checks her smartwatch, “the session’s just about to end.”

at that, his shoulders almost instantly sag in relief, which makes the woman laugh. he shoots her a half-hearted glare.

they spend the next few minutes summarizing what has been discussed, as well as the arrangements for the following weeks, with bakugou eventually throwing his bag over his shoulders and bidding her a mumbled goodbye. he tosses her a nod over his shoulder as he crosses the threshold of her office, mind already drifting to what he’s going to cook himself for dinner.

and that, for a typical session, he’s walking out relatively unscathed.

but then he does the stupid thing of looking up from where he was studying his trainers when a door creaks open, and he freezes.

because standing a few feet away from him, right beside the entrance to the restroom, is you, equally frozen.

he doesn’t know how much time passes with him just staring at you like a motherfucking idiot, and you, strangely enough, peering at him back, but it’s you who eventually takes a hammer to the silence.

“h-hi,” you offer, voice soft and quiet, just like how he vaguely remembers it from two weeks ago.

“hey,” comes his gruff reply, which would’ve been immediately followed by a wince at how rough his tone was just now had he not stopped himself in the nick of time.

at least he didn’t stutter.

“…b-bakugou, right?” you ask after a moment of neither of you saying anything, confirming his earlier suspicions.

“right.”

you nod, a polite yet somehow stilted smile on your face, and suddenly he’s mentally slapping himself. since when was he fucking bound to one-word sentences?

he decides then and there that this shit won’t do.

in an attempt to convince himself that no, this is just a weird outlier of an encounter for him, and that no, he’s not a fucking idiot like dunce face, and that yes, he is and is being perfectly fucking normal, he resolves to ask you for your name.

and he was just about to do that—he swears he was—when someone from the other side of the door calls out a name, and you whip to face their direction, breaking eye contact.

“yes, doc!” you holler back, and he watches you as you hesitate in place for a second, before turning to face him with an awkward smile.

“nice meeting you, bakugou-san.”

and then you’re off and shutting the door behind you.

he stands there for what feels like a few minutes, just blinking at the door in front of him, what must be your name echoing—again and again—up to the far recesses of his mind.

then: fuck.

he may or may not have just lied to his therapist.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra @qyuin | @kalulakunundrum @cheezemanz @gold24fish @lunaryasha

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tojisun · 11 months ago

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he said, “i’m not the man that you think i am.”

“that’s alright,” you replied, voice measured despite its quiet rumble. “let me love you, anyway.”

he noticed the way your fingers twitched by your sides—an aborted need to pull him close—and he wondered: where do you find the fortitude to be gentle with him?

did you know how he felt at that moment? did you know what he felt when he cut himself open and was honest with the ugliness that muddles his heart, expecting your rejection, only to be met with your kindness as vast as the seas? did you know what you have done?

you fed a starving dog.

you stuffed him with tenderness until his fangs have dulled. you showed him a collar and asked if it was okay to leash him.

of course. claim me. please. i’m yours.

he stepped up into your space. “i won’t let you go.”

you said, “please. all that i am is yours.”

(you were just as starving.)

#‘‘i’m not a violent dog; i dont know why i bite’’ THIS IS YOUR FAULT #take mitski away from me because i will not survive and i will make sure to pull you all into my descent #suns #yk who fits this? tf141 #task force 141 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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tumbleweed-run · 1 year ago

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Touch

(18+, Explicit) Kinktober 2023 Day 11 Sensory Deprivation

You gasped as a cold pair of hands traced down your sides. You relaxed as they continued their path down to your hips. You were currently bound, all four of your limbs tied with silks to the bed posts. There was a matching silk across your eyes, preventing you from seeing as well.

At least you had a tell as to which man was touching you. Realistically, you probably would have been able to do it even without Astarion’s inhuman chill.

This had been your decision, your request. It had felt only fair given that Gale had so graciously agreed to be in your position not long ago. Of course, the deafening spell Gale had cast on you, leaving you with nothing but the sound of your heartbeat, had been an additional request you’d made.

Every touch Astarion made to your skin was already magnified tenfold, leaving you squirming both to and away from him. Perhaps more interesting was the fact that Gale wasn’t touching you. You tried to shift around the last leg that had been secured, as it was your last clue as to the wizard’s location. While the binds allowed you some movement it wasn’t enough to actually find him.

Astarion’s hands were near your knees now, continuing their descent.

Suddenly, a large, warm hand gripped your chin. It was the brush of Gale’s beard on your skin that caused you to grin. His lips followed not long after, pressing sweet, warm kisses against your lips. You lifted your head slightly chasing after him, attempting to deepen the kiss. He indulged you for a moment before pressing his hand gently against your chest until you relaxed back onto the bed.

At your ankles, Astarion’s hands pivoted inward and slowly began working their way up. He seemed determined to touch every inch of you.

Gale’s hands left you completely, and you found yourself ineffectively trying to track him. Huffing, you once again tried to relax backward.

There was a slight twitch in Astarion’s touch, you knew well enough that he found your frustration amusing. You set your best pout on your lips and aimed it where you assumed he was. It was at that moment that his hands reached your inner thighs. Another gasp was torn from you as your thighs pulled shut. Firmly, Astarion pushed them open again.

You had to focus on keeping your thighs open as Astarion continued upward. His hands skated around where you desperately wanted him to touch. Then, almost as an afterthought, he trail one finger between your fold. You whined and arched up, but somehow he managed to avoid touching your clit. His hands smoothly moved to your stomach.

The bed sunk between your legs and there was a warmth then. Not quite touching, but close enough you could feel. Gale. You sighed happily and tried to move your legs close enough to touch him. His hands found your ankles first and then a brush of his hair, followed again by his lips. Then, as if following Astarion’s lead, he began pressing soft kisses gently up the inside of your legs.

You couldn’t pick who to focus on. Astarion’s light touches were driving you insane, his hands now just beneath your breasts. Instead of touching them, he skated his thumbs along the underside and then up to your chests. He was leaving gooseflesh in his wake. Gale’s kisses were firmer, warmer, but he as well wasn’t touching you where you wanted. He was also firmly pressing your legs open keeping you from trying to guide him.

You moaned when Astarion’s hand found your neck, instinctively tilting your chin up and baring it to him. He wrapped his hand around your throat but just rested it there. At this exact moment, Gale pressed a kiss against your cunt. Gasping you couldn’t help as you arched up. Astarion’s grasp tightened, not enough to choke you but as both a warning and a promise. You whined when he released the hold.

In a mirror to Gale’s actions, Astarion’s hand grasped your chin followed by his lips. But that was where the similarities ended. Gale’s kisses had been soft and sweet, but Astarion’s were immediately commanding. His tongue wormed in between your lips, and you were ready to meet him.

Gale’s tongue on the other hand had slipped between your folds and he was lazily lapping at your cunt. His tongue dragged across your clit, and you cried out, head turning away from Astarion. He didn’t allow it for long and pulled you back into the kiss.

Your ability to focus on just one man was truly torn when Astarion’s hand finally, finally, grasped your breast. His thumb found your nipple immediately. Then in perhaps a serendipitous fluke, they both flicked. Gale, his tongue against your clit, and Astarion’s thumb against your nipple.

It turned out not to be a fluke, though. They were alarming in sync as they continued their ministrations. Even when Astarion switched to tease your other nipple, Gale seemed to pull back for a breath. The last remaining coherent part of you wanted so badly to hear them. It didn't matter because within seconds you were reduced to a moaning mess.

It was almost a relief when Astarion’s hands left you. You found it easier to focus on just one of them like this. Gale gently bent your knees out as far as the ties allowed, baring you to him even further. You were so focused on how Gale fucked you with his tongue that you almost missed the shifting of the mattress by your hip. What you didn’t miss was the press of Astarion’s chest over your side.

You weren’t aware of how loud you yelled when Astarion’s tongue pressed down between your folds, but the feeling in your throat afterward told you it was quite loud. Gale hadn’t left either, only angled his head to the side to allow Astarion better access. Instead, they both licked at your cunt. Occasionally, their tongues would meet in some kind of strange kiss. The sensation, the knowledge, left you delirious with pleasure. You weren’t even aware of your moaning anymore.

Your orgasm slammed into you with a tidal force. They paid no attention to your spasming and continued to lick you (in tandem) through it.

Gale was the first one to pull away from your body. Vaguely, your mind conjured an image so familiar to you that your heart panged with the desire to see it. Gale, eyes dark in arousal, with his beard shining with your spend.

Astarion’s mouth left you, but you felt him as he climbed over your legs to take up the space where Gale had just been. His fingers spread you as he, uncharacteristically gently, resumed lapping at your cunt.

Your head was gently lifted, and another pillow was slid under it leaving you almost awkwardly propped up. A kiss to your forehead that smelt of both you and Gale followed.

You were immediately curious when Gale climbed on top of you. His legs were on either side of your chest, knees bumping into your underarms. Even though he was seated on you, he bore a majority of his weight on his own legs. The soft hair on his thighs and legs tickled at your skin. Your arms pulled on the tie with the desire to touch him.

There was barely time to think when he sat up as his cock brushed against your lips. He was hard and leaking, no doubt leaving a smear of cum against your lips. Surprised and eager your mouth fell open instantly.

Astarion’s mouth left you, one of his hands sliding in so he could press a finger into your entrance.

Slowly, Gale pressed his cock into your mouth, and you understood the additional pillow now. He stopped, barely inside your mouth and you could feel his thighs strain against the restraint he was showing. After a few seconds, you realized Gale wanted you to finish pulling him in your mouth. You swallowed him down quickly, quick enough that when he hit the back of your throat, you gagged and had to pull off. You were faster than Gale’s conscious and pulled him into your mouth once more, this time more carefully.

You sucked eagerly and were rewarded with Astarion’s finger matching your pace.

You tried to keep a steady pace, spurred on in part by your reward as Astarion fingered you. But eventually, your neck because protesting each bob and you were forced to slow.

Astarion shifted, and you groaned, anticipating his touch leaving you. You wondered if he was moving to take Gale’s spot and fuck your throat properly, you found you wanted him to. Surprisingly, it was Gale’s hand that came around the back of your head supporting you further. Then it was Gale’s cock tentatively thrusting into your mouth.

You moaned around him but forced yourself to relax going boneless under him, acutely aware of how big a deal this was for Gale. As you relaxed, swallowing slightly to encourage him, his thrusts grew bolder. He wasn’t as sure as Astarion and didn’t try to bottom out down your throat, but it was blissful in its own way. You fought to keep your gag reflex down, worried Gale would pull away if you didn’t. Astarion pressed two fingers inside you, now matching Gale’s pace.

It didn’t last long, but you relished each second. Gale pulled out, and you felt a string of spit trail across your chin. Almost immediately he rained a series of kisses across your face. You smiled, almost anxious to show you’d enjoyed it.

Curiously he gently placed his hands over your ear, pressing slightly. It was a warning because then sound abruptly returned. You gasped as even the quiet sounds of the bedroom overwhelmed you for a moment. Both men were still, allowing you to adjust to the sudden change.

“Darling,” Astarion spoke in a hushed tone, mindfully, “I think you might want to be here entirely for this next part.”

“What do you mean?” Your voice was wrecked.

Gale’s hands slid away from your ears, his time they rested on the edge of the blindfold, waiting.

“I’m going to let the wizard fuck me,” Astarion said it haughtily, as if bestowing a gift on Gale.

No one acknowledged that he, in fact, was.

“Off.” You said instantly and tried to drag your head against the pillow in an effort to remove the blindfold.

Both men laughed at your impatience. Gale gently removed the blindfold, mindful of your hair that had become tangled. You kept your eyes closed for a moment before slowly blinking them open. The room was thankfully only lit by candles, which were far enough away that they weren’t blinding. Instead, it cast a soft warm glow that your eyes easily adjusted to.

Both men were naked, which they hadn’t been before the blindfold went on. Idly, you realized you had known this. Still, your mouth watered slightly at the sight as it always did. Surely, if there came a time that you weren’t struck with lust at this sight that there would be something wrong with you.

“There you are,” Gale said gently, tilting your head towards him.

There was a question in his eyes which had nothing to do with Astarion. You knew he was still seeking approval for fucking your mouth. You nodded slightly and smiled.

“Hello,” you said it softly.

Astarion allowed your moment with grace. Instead choosing to focus on untying the binds from around your ankles. You anticipated Gale doing the same to the ones around your wrists, but he didn’t. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips and disappeared towards the end of the bed. Once both your legs were free you drew up your knees a few times to dispel the stiffness that had formed.

Astarion climbed up over you on all fours. As he leaned up even further, to press a kiss to your lips, Gale climbed up onto the bed as well. You tried to stifle a giggle at just how crowded it had become. Astarion’s face was amused as well when he leaned back from the kiss. He jumped slightly then.

You looked over his shoulder and found that Gale had placed a hand on the elf’s lower back, his other hand was out of sight. Judging off the look that flashed on Astarion’s face you knew what he was doing.

“Astarion?” You asked carefully when his eyes slid shut.

“I’m here, pet,” he reassured softly, “it’s, ah, been some time since I’ve let anyone do this.”

Your eyes met Gale’s over his shoulder, and he paused, a question he didn’t want to voice. You quickly looked back to Astarion’s face before nodding, Gale began moving again.

Carefully you drew up your knee and tapped it against Astarion’s side. “Are you using our safeword?” If this conversation had been had, you’d been deaf to it.

Astarion’s eyes opened. “Darling why would I need-” he cut off abruptly as Gale pulled away from him entirely.

Astarion growled and looked over his shoulder at Gale, annoyed. “Was that necessary?”

“Yes,” was all Gale said.

Alright, alright,” Astarion sighed, “Coins it is.”

As Gale, once again, went back to prepping Astarion the elf looked over his shoulder again. “I swear, Gale, if you stop one more time I’m going to pin you to the floor and fuck myself on you.”

Your entire body flushed at the mental image.

Astarion’s mouth twisted into a wicked grin when he noticed. “Oh darling you like that idea,” he accused.

You didn’t bother denying it. Once glance at Gale’s slack jaw and glazed eyes told you that he was similarly affected.

“Well,” Astarion continued, you wondered if he was talking to distract himself, “we will certainly need to add that to a tawdry little to do-” he broke off in a moan, head dropping down.

Gale lifted his hand from Astarion’s back and held up two fingers. You grinned to yourself.

Slowly, Astarion began rocking back to meet Gale’s fingers. Your hands itched to go around Astarion. To hold him and keep him grounded in the here and now. You pouted as you pulled against the ties. They’d clearly been left on for a reason.

“Ah, fuck,” Astarion swore, “is he always this slow about it.”

“Mostly,” you laughed.

“Pleasure is meant to be savored,” Gale tutted from above the two of you.

Astarion groaned in frustration. You smiled to yourself, knowing the vampire couldn’t see that Gale himself was no doubt frustrated by how slow he was moving. His cock was heavy and leaking freely to the bedding below. But there was one thing about Gale, it's that he would never proceed if he was at all worried about hurting someone he cared about.

Your laughter escaped as little giggles, and after a moment you felt more than heard Astarion’s amused huffs. Abruptly, a moan was punched from him and his hips snapped backward. He continued moaning and fucking himself backward.

“Good?” Gale asked.

“Gale, I am not above begging you to fuck me before one of you dies,” Astarion ground out making it sound more like a threat.

Gale’s eyes went far away for a moment, but he shook his head and withdrew his fingers. “Maybe some other day,” he said cryptically.

Astarion took the lack of contact with surprising grace. Surprising, until he sat up slightly and moved to position his cock at your entrance.

“Oh,” you gasped, realizing what was happening.

Astarion was quick to slide into you entirely, his impatience betrayed through his actions. You squirmed slightly, adjusting to him.

It was strange, you could almost feel as Gale pressed into Astarion. Each small slide forward and Astarion moved ever so slightly in you. It was, in fact, a slow process until Gale’s hips were flush against Astarion’s ass. He held still, and you watched his fingertips turn white as he gripped Astarion’s hips. You weren’t sure who he was restraining.

“For the love of,” Astarion snarled and it was almost like Gale was waiting for him to speak because he began moving finally, effectively silencing the vampire.

Astarion remained relatively still the only movements inside of you were the after-shocks as Gale gently began fucking him. His patience only lasted so long, though, and eventually began moving.

It was awkward for less than a beat as both men found a rhythm that worked for them. Once they did Astarion began fucking you earnestly. Immediately you were glad Gale had removed his spell because the sounds of both of them was nearly enough to drive you over the edge. With each thrust from Gale, moans escaped Astarion sounding much like they were being forced out. Gale’s eyes had fallen shut, head tilted back grunting each time he bottomed out.

Astarion’s hands found your hips and shifted them upwards so his thrusts went impossibly deeper.

Gale went first a string of incoherent sounds spilling past his lips as he spilled into Astarion. Astarion quickly began fucking himself between the two of you in a way that bordered on frantic. He kept on with this for a moment before his orgasm hit.

As he came he bit into the flesh just above your breast, fangs piercing the skin. It was enough to send you over the edge, your cunt fluttering around his still-twitching cock.

Astarion lazily lapped at the blood forming at his bite mark, collapsing forward onto you. It wasn’t in a particularly good spot to bleed. Instead, the blood slowly welled up in the punctures, only to be quickly whisked away by his tongue.

When your hands fell to the bed, you became aware that Gale had moved and was undoing the ties. You dragged your pins and needles hand up to thread into Astarion’s hair. You kept him against you, encouraging his lazy feeding. As Gale climbed into the bed next to the two of you, you felt a familiar sensation of magic as a spell cleaned you all.

“Useful,” Astarion approved, lips still against your skin.

You laughed and let your head fall against Gale as he finally settled, half on the pillows beneath you.

It was remarkably peaceful, in this afterglow for the three of you.

#gale x reader #astarion x reader #bloodweave #bloodweave x reader #gale x tav #astarion x tav #bloodweave x tav #kinktober 2023 #kinktober 2023 sensory deprivation #the word descent is on my shit list #i dont wanna talk about how long that took to spell correctly

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threepandas · 8 months ago

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The Vod's List: Part 1.5

Fox sat in the medcenter staring blankly at the 'sensor's read out. They all were. A numb sort of horror silencing the normally busy room. The only real noise was the steady churning hum of the substance analyzer off on a table to the side, still busy churning away at what exact compound EXACTLY were in the liquid drying on his face. Running in random chaotic lines of slowly drying death, down his neck.

He really needed to change before he got reinfected.

But... but all he could do was stare.

There was a chip in his head.

WAS. It was half gone and disappearing even as they watched. Whatever let it hide itself the first thing destroyed, by what now flowed in his blood. His head felt like it was going to pop. Yet? As... WHATEVER those things were? Worked? Processed. Attacked. Did what ever it was they were designed to DO... the less his head hurt.

The medic said it looked like they went after the connection filaments first. Then traced them back to the chip itself. Because... because he had a CHIP in his brain.

He was compromised.

How long had he been compromised?

Were the others? Or was it just him? Was it because of his position of command? Should the other commanders get checked? What is he saying. Of course they should. They have too. He has no idea when this could even have OCCURRED. It could be a threat to the Republic. To the Vod.

The analyzer chimes. His vod numbly going through the motions to check the read out. Only to pause. Check again. Then again. Fixer calls over another medic. Well... that reassuring.

They have samples, scraped from his cheek and neck. He expect then to pop them into another machine, when they pick the vial up. But instead? The rest of them watch in confused horror as the two medics apply some two a swab, grab a vibroscalpel, and make cuts along their arms. Pressing the swabs to the fresh wounds.

Deliberately... infecting... themselves...

VOD WHAT IN THE FRESH HELLS?!

One set chrono and a vicious shouting match later? The truth reveals itself. Two more scans. Two matching chips, being eaten away. It's Kamino cure, they say. Half way across the known galaxy, probably has all sorts of side effects they'll have to look out for, but? Assuming they SURVIVE it?

This could fix every karked up thing the long necks ever put in them, known or unknown.

It's DESIGNED to "fix" it's host, no matter the cost. That is... assuming the host can endure the pain. Kriff. His mind can't help but shoot back. The civilian. An aid to an aid so many layers down in the senate, they're barely one step above the Vod themselves. Glorified furniture with a purpose.

She'd been...

The sheer HORROR in her eyes, when she realized she'd shared what was inside her. When they met, she was in a karking muzzle, too. Sure, it was designed to be "humane". But she couldn't even run in it. It suffocated her. Did she endure? Was that why she froze up? Every injury the threat of something so much WORSE?

He could see the same thought, spreading like everything always does with the Vod.

Fast and impossible to contain.

Kriff... he ran a hand down his face, exhausted. They hadn't even figured out who was behind THIS attack. Anti-war protesters, kidnapping attempt, assassination attempt. Some sleemo who wanted to watch the galaxy burn, maybe. It didn't matter. What DID was that they contain it.

....maybe get a gaurd or two on their new friend.

I mean... it wasn't UNREASONABLE, right? She... she COULD be a target. Natural bioweapon. People can be terrible. Wouldn't put it past somebody right? And they really SHOULD have complete coverage of the senate building. Even the lower levels. That's were trouble makers try to slip in.

It's reasonable.

It's not like she's THEIR Civilian. They don't HAVE an anything. The other Vod have their generals. Various officers, if their Generals aren't that great. The Gaurd doesn't... they don't NEED...

I mean... it would be NICE...

No. Focus.

Just because she helped you and yours... just because she's SOFT and CIVILIAN and VULNERABLE to threats-! Don't. Do not. Vod, I can FEEL you-

"Did you know most Technoganic never leave their planet?" Nose piped up from near the door, little shit could never leave anything alone if he TRIED. He had his datapad out. "Says here they are highly priority targets for slavers."

Every Vod in the room twitched.

Well... there went HIS calm. His hand went to his com-link, already fighting to keep from clenching his jaw. A.. FEW gaurds wouldn't hurt. For Senatorial safety. They aren't giving anyone preferential treatment! Just. Being cautious.

Doing their job.

They should check in.

Just in case.

#threepandas #yandere #the vods list #and so their descent begins #their are TOTALLY gonna be SO normal about this guys #SO NORMAL #yandere star wars #yandere clone troopers #clone troopers #yandere x reader

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aphroditaeon · 13 days ago

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not me writing this while crying screaming drooling about drunk Levi lmaoooooo

#ROLLING MY EYES AT MYSELF SO HARD LIKE PLEASE 🙄#also being drunk in this fic absolutely makes him worse. by worse i of course mean even sexier.#guys i think its terminal 🤒#even thinking about him smelling like it drives me insane lmaooooooo #levi ackerman #editing chapter 2 of descent in inverse the hardest thing i have ever done in my life 🤕#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #aot #snk #aphroditaeon.txt #💎#aphroditaeon.fic

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inevitablysomber-dark · 2 months ago

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The Price of Success 4

Dark! Peter Parker x Clementine! Reader

Summary: Clementine has fought tooth and nail to achieve her dream of attending a prestigious university. Balancing her demanding workload, a suffocating home life, and financial strain, she’ll do whatever it takes to stay afloat. Enter Peter Parker: wealthy, charming, and unexpectedly fixated on her. When he offers a proposition that could solve all her problems, Clementine reluctantly agrees—unaware she’s stepping into a carefully constructed trap. What begins as a transactional relationship spirals into something far darker as Peter’s true intentions come to light.

Warnings: This story contains dark themes, including manipulation, psychological and emotional abuse, unhealthy relationships, non-consensual elements, obsessive behavior, gaslighting, loss of autonomy, familial neglect, and power imbalances. Please read at your own discretion.

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

Series Masterlist

Peter’s place wasn’t at all what I had imagined—not that I’d given it much thought before. The two doormen at the front should have been my first clue that this wasn’t your average apartment. When he opened the door and led me inside, it felt like I had stepped into one of those homes featured in Architectural Digest. The kind reserved for the ultra-wealthy, not for a regular college student.

The entryway alone was impressive, with sleek marble floors and modern art hanging on the walls. As we walked further, I found myself surrounded by so much space that it was almost unsettling. This wasn’t just an apartment; it was a penthouse.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Peter asked, pulling me from my thoughts. “I’ve got tea, coffee, soda, juice... water?” He gestured toward a hall that seemed to lead to the kitchen.

“Water’s fine,” I said, following behind him, unsure whether I felt impressed or out of place.

“Make yourself at home. The living room’s just through there,” he said, pointing to an open space before disappearing into the kitchen.

The living room was intimidating in its own way. Sleek leather furniture and glass tables gave it a bachelor pad vibe, but the carefully curated touches—plush throw pillows, elegant vases, and soft lighting—hinted that an older woman had been involved in decorating. Maybe his mom or grandmother.

Massive windows overlooked the city skyline, offering a breathtaking view that felt surreal.

“Your place is huge,” I called out, still taking everything in. Did he really need this much space? It felt excessive, even for someone like Peter.

“Yeah,” he said, stepping out of the kitchen with a glass of water in one hand and a mug in the other. “My parents insisted. They were worried about my safety and comfort.”

I raised an eyebrow as I took the water from him. “Comfort? What do they think happens in dorms, survival of the fittest?”

He laughed lightly, settling into the couch, placing his mug onto the coffee table and motioning for me to join him. “Something like that. They wanted me to have my own space so I wouldn’t have to deal with, you know, the usual college stuff.”

I couldn’t help but scoff. “You mean other people?”

“Exactly,” he said with a smirk.

I sipped my water, my eyes wandering around the room again. Everything about this place radiated wealth, from the subtle branding on the throw blankets to the polished wood paneling lining the walls. It was impressive, but it was also a stark reminder of the enormous gap between Peter’s world and mine.

I couldn’t even get my parents to call a plumber to fix the leak in the basement they dumped me in, and here was Peter, living a life of luxury at his parents’ insistence.

“So, what do you think?” he asked, watching me carefully.

“It’s... a lot,” I admitted “Not what I expected.”

He tilted his head slightly. “And what did you expect?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Something more lived-in. This feels like a catalog.”

Peter chuckled, leaning back against the couch. “You’re not wrong. My Aunt May and her decorator had way too much fun with this place. I’m usually always out, so I haven’t really marked this place as my own.”

I nodded, unsure of what else to say. This world he lived in was so far removed from mine that I couldn’t even begin to relate, but at least he seemed self-aware.

As I sank into the couch, I let myself relax for the first time in months.

"Would you like to watch a movie?" Peter asked, his voice casual but his expression anything but. The look in his eyes told me he didn’t want the night to end, and if I were honest with myself, neither did I.

Tomorrow was Saturday, my usual routine of leaving early for the library, attending an afternoon class, and then tutoring Peter himself. For once, the thought of lingering felt more appealing than rushing back home.

"What did you have in mind?" I asked, meeting his gaze.

Peter shrugged, flashing an easy grin. "I’ve got Netflix, Hulu, HBO, Disney Plus, anything you want. And if I don’t have it, I can get it."

I rolled my eyes, smiling despite myself. "Your house, your pick."

"Ah, but you’re the guest, so you have to pick," he countered, his grin widening.

I chuckled softly. "Seriously, I don’t care. I’m just happy to finally relax for once. Whatever you put on is fine with me."

Peter nodded and scrolled through Netflix before selecting something from the top picks. He stood to dim the lights, the glow of his massive TV illuminating the room as he settled back onto the couch, this time a little closer.

I took a sip of my water, setting it on the small end table beside me. For a while, we sat in silence, the sound of the movie filling the space. I felt his arm shift behind me, casually resting on the back of the couch.

I wasn’t oblivious. I knew Peter had an interest in me, it had been clear for some time now. But I also knew it would be in both our best interests to keep him at a distance. Yet, as I glanced over at him, something was different. Maybe it was the soft glow of the screen highlighting the sharp angles of his jawline or the way his smirk tugged at the corner of his lips when he caught me looking.

“What?” he asked, his voice teasing.

I hesitated, my mind racing. Was it the vulnerable place I was in mentally, after months of unrelenting stress? Or was it the fact that, for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel entirely hopeless?

I decided to set the bait.

And if he didn’t take it, I’d leave.

Leaning forward, I pressed a quick, soft peck to his lips. His eyes widened in surprise, confusion flickering in them as he searched mine for an answer.

I leaned in again, this time lingering a little longer. He hesitated at first, his posture stiff, but then he leaned in too.

Just as I started to pull away, his arm moved from the back of the couch to cradle the back of my head. He deepened the kiss, his other hand sliding to my waist as he pulled me closer. The warmth of his touch contrasted sharply with the cool indifference I’d been holding onto for so long.

For the first time in weeks, I let myself stop thinking.

Peter’s hands slid to my hips, guiding me over him until I was straddling his waist. The shift in position made me acutely aware of the hard bulge pressing against me through his jeans. A mix of nerves and curiosity shot through me, but I didn’t stop. Instead, I shifted slightly, pushing against him experimentally.

Peter broke the kiss with a sharp hiss, his head falling back against the couch. His hands tightened on my hips, holding me still as if he was trying to rein himself in. His breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling beneath me.

"This feels like a dream," he murmured, his voice low and filled with awe, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening.

Leaning forward, I brushed my lips against his ear, my voice a soft whisper. "Then let’s try not to wake up."

His hands gripped me a little tighter, and before I could pull away, he tilted his head back toward me, capturing my lips in a kiss that felt more intense, more consuming. It was as though he was afraid the moment might slip away if he didn’t hold onto it tightly enough.

Carefully, Peter stood, still holding me in his arms, and gently laid me back on the couch, positioning himself over me. His eyes searched mine, almost as if asking for permission one more time without words. I answered by reaching up, pulling him closer, and reconnecting our lips.

Clothes began to come off in a flurry of hurried hands and nervous excitement. When we were finally bare, Peter paused, breaking the kiss to look down at me. His expression was soft, almost reverent, as he traced a hand lightly over my cheek.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice low and steady, but the slightest tremor of vulnerability cracked through.

I nodded, my breath hitching. "Yes."

He let out a deep, shuddering breath, his body visibly relaxing as if he’d been holding in the weight of the world. Then, with deliberate care, he aligned himself and slowly entered me. A gasp escaped my lips, a deep sigh of pleasure as the sensation of fullness took over. His lips found mine again, soft and reassuring, before moving to trail kisses along my jawline and down my neck.

He held me close, his movements tender but deliberate, each stroke sending waves of pleasure rippling through my body. The Netflix movie we’d been watching was now just a forgotten hum in the background, white noise to accompany the symphony of our breathing and soft moans. Peter moved with an unhurried rhythm, his confidence smooth but not overbearing.

I wrapped my legs around him instinctively, drawing him closer, urging him to go deeper. He responded immediately, his pace quickening, his control slipping as his movements grew more erratic. The heat between us built steadily, the pressure mounting with each thrust.

I could feel it. The end creeping closer, a tantalizing edge calling me to leap. My breath came in shallow gasps, my body trembling under his as Peter’s own resolve began to waver. His grip on my body tightened, his head dipping to press his forehead against mine as we both climbed higher, lost in the moment.

When the climax finally hit, it was like a tidal wave crashing over me, leaving me breathless and weightless all at once. My fingernails dug into his back as a sharp cry escaped my lips, my body arching into his. Peter followed seconds later, his own release washing over him with a deep, guttural groan. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his body trembling as he shuddered through the intensity of his orgasm.

We stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other, letting the aftershocks subside. Peter lifted his head, his eyes searching mine with a softness that made my chest ache.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but filled with genuine concern.

Still dazed and recovering from the high, I gave him a dopey smile. "I’m perfect."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm as he leaned down to plant another kiss on my lips. "Yes, you are," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my face before pulling me into his arms.

The next morning, I woke up in Peter’s arms, both of us completely nude. The events of the night before had stretched well into the early hours, culminating in us finally crashing in his bedroom.

Peter held me close, and I found myself focusing on the rise and fall of his chest, listening to the light rhythm of his breathing. Outside of the pleasant soreness in my body, this was easily the best sleep I’d had in weeks.

I turned my head toward the clock on his nightstand. I’d already missed my morning study session, but if I hurried, I could still make it to my afternoon class. Groaning softly, I shifted to sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and stretching to shake off any lingering exhaustion.

The movement roused Peter. He stirred, blinking at me groggily before giving me a lazy, lopsided smile.

“Hey, you,” he said, his voice rough from sleep. “How are you feeling?” He stretched his arms overhead, letting out a satisfied yawn.

“I’m feeling great, actually,” I replied, smiling despite myself. “Better than I have in a while.”

“Good to hear.”

He leaned in to kiss my temple, his lips warm against my skin, before pulling back the blanket covering him and hopping out of bed.

“So, I was thinking,” he started, standing stark naked in front of me without a hint of self-consciousness, “we could order in for breakfast. Maybe have a chill morning?”

It was then I remembered my plans for the day. “About that,” I said hesitantly, still clutching the blanket around me, as I stood to face away from him and his nudity. “I actually have to go home and get ready for my afternoon class. And…” I added, pointing toward his general direction with my finger, “we still have a tutoring session later, don’t forget.”

Peter moves to stand in front of me, an amused grin on his face as he stepped closer. “You don’t need to go home for that.”

I raised an eyebrow.

He placed his hands lightly on my hips, making it impossible not to look at his face. “I had Gerald pick up a Plan B pill for you this morning—”

“Wait, who’s Gerald?” I interrupted.

“My butler,” he said nonchalantly. “He’s from a legacy of butlers. He handles the house and anything else I might need.”

I blinked. A butler? A legacy of butlers? How absurd.

“Anyway,” he continued, as though he hadn’t just dropped that bombshell, “he also grabbed some clothes for you, so if you want, you can stay here, take a shower, and head straight to class. The university’s only twenty minutes away on foot, but I can drop you off myself if you’d prefer.” he starts rubbing his thumbs into my hips “Save you about 15 minutes or so.”

“I still need to get my laptop from home.”

“Do you use cloud storage for notes and texts?” he asks

“Well, Y-yeah, b-but.”

“I have iPad’s, laptops, and tablets. Take your pick and just login.”

How convenient. I hesitated, trying to decide if I was comfortable with this level of generosity.

Peter leaned in closer, his hands still firmly on my hips, his face softening into an imploring expression. “Please? Stay for breakfast.”

“I don’t know,” I said, biting my lip. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding,” he said smoothly. “You were invited.”

When I looked up, he was giving me the most ridiculous set of puppy dog eyes. I sighed, feeling my resolve crumble under his gaze.

“Alright,” I relented, laughing softly. “I guess I can stay a little longer.”

“Perfect,” he said, his grin brightening as he leaned down to kiss me, warm and lingering.

The kiss caught me off guard. It wasn’t like we hadn’t been intimate all night, but something about the softness, the casual affection of it, left me feeling... awkward. Maybe it was because, for all the physical closeness we’d shared, this moment felt unexpectedly intimate in a way I wasn’t used to.

Peter moved toward a drawer near the corner of the room, rummaging through its contents while I stood there clutching the blanket to myself, unsure what to do. He pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, walking back to hand them to me.

“Here,” he said with a small smile. “Figured you wouldn’t want to walk around the house naked.”

I nodded, taking the clothes from him. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he replied, turning back to find something for himself in the same drawer.

“Uh, Peter?” I started, hesitating.

“Where’s the bathroom?” I added quickly, not wanting him to misinterpret my question. “I need to use the bathroom,” I clarified, hoping to wipe away any doubts about my comfort. I didn’t need him thinking I was regretting anything.

The uncertainty on his face disappeared instantly, replaced by that easygoing grin. He pointed to a door adjacent to the bed. “Right there.”

“Thanks,” I said, shuffling toward it, still clutching the blanket as if it were my armor. I stepped inside, shutting the door firmly behind me and making sure the lock clicked into place before exhaling deeply.

The bathroom was massive, sleek, and impossibly clean—practically showroom-ready, save for a hamper overflowing with clothes in one corner, a toothbrush and toothpaste perched on the counter, and a half-filled garbage bin. The cool marble tiles underfoot and the sheer size of the space made the bathroom look like a utopia.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror above the sink, running a hand through my disheveled hair. For a moment, I let myself take in the surrealness of it all. The previous night, I was curled up on a couch in my parents’ home, dreaming of a way out. Now, I was standing in a bathroom big enough to fit my entire makeshift room in the basement.

I shook my head, pushing the thoughts aside. Dwelling on it wouldn’t change anything. After relieving myself and tidying up, I grabbed Peter’s t-shirt and boxers, slipping them on. They were far too big, but the soft fabric and faint scent of his cologne were oddly comforting.

When I emerged, Peter was sitting on the edge of the bed, now fully dressed in a fitted shirt and grey sweatpants, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when I stepped out, his smile warm and immediate.

“You look good,” he said, gesturing to his clothes on me.

I laughed lightly, tugging at the hem of the oversized shirt. “Thanks. Not exactly high fashion, though.”

“High fashion is overrated,” he quipped. “You pull it off.”

His casual compliment left me a little flustered, but I quickly changed the subject. “So, breakfast?”

“Breakfast,” he confirmed, standing and offering me his hand. I hesitated for a second before taking it, letting him lead me out of the room.

I walked out of my afternoon class and headed toward the campus café to grab a Gatorade, still marveling at the outfit I was wearing. Luxury from head to toe—Prada dress, matching purse, and even a pair of designer shoes that felt like walking on clouds. It wasn’t that I’d never worn or seen luxury items before, but having them bought for me, on a whim, was something else entirely.

When Peter’s butler, Gerald, handed me the bag this morning, I half-expected to find something generic from Macy’s—a simple one-size-fits-all dress. Instead, I’d been met with pure couture, along with a small assortment of fancy shower items, as if I were a visiting dignitary.

Compliments followed me all day, even on a relatively empty campus. A few lingering looks from passing students, nods of approval, and whispered envy. It was new, and while part of me enjoyed it, another part felt a little exposed.

Gerald, for his part, had been exactly what I expected from a butler: stoic and professional. Yet, he had this warmth to him, calling Peter "Master Peter" and me "Miss Clementine," which took me completely by surprise. Hearing someone older and wiser address me so formally was jarring, but oddly, it didn’t feel patronizing. Just... proper.

As I left campus, heading back to Peter’s place for our tutoring session, I heard a familiar beep. Peter was parked at the curb in his car, waving me over.

“You didn’t have to do this,” I said as I opened the passenger door and slipped in.

“Of course, I did.” He grinned, his boyish charm on full display. “Aunt May would’ve killed me if she found out I made a girl walk all the way back to my apartment.”

I couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh, by the way,” he added, “the frat guys found Nikki’s keys. Turns out they were in the punch bowl.”

I wrinkled my nose. “How unsanitary.”

“Tell me about it. But don’t worry, Gerald and I got her car back to her safe and sound. I also grabbed your things.”

He gestured to the backseat, where I saw my bag and some books neatly stacked.

“What about Carrot’s stuff?” I asked.

“Got hers back to her too,” he said nonchalantly.

“How?”

He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, Nikki’s address was on her car insurance card. As for you and Carrot, I... might’ve snooped a little to figure out what belonged to who.”

Weird, but practical.

I blinked, unsure how to feel. “I guess I’m just not used to people going out of their way like that.”

Peter’s smile softened. “Well, you should get used to it. Gerald’s cooking steak tonight, by the way. Any chance you’d want to stay for dinner after our tutoring session?”

How odd but steak sounded good. I shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

The tutoring session went smoothly as usual. Gerald busied himself in the kitchen while Peter and I worked through the material at the dining room table. When we finished, I couldn’t resist asking a question that had been lingering in my mind.

“Why do you keep requesting tutoring sessions with me when you clearly don’t need them?”

Peter’s face flushed pink as he fumbled for an answer. “Well—”

“Because of me, Miss Clementine,” Gerald interrupted, appearing with two plates. He set them down in front of us before continuing. “Master Peter is the heir to a very important company, and I believe that no matter how much he may already know, nothing beats consistent practice. In fact, I’m the one who hired you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Tony Stark didn’t finish school. He seems to be doing fine running, at least half, of the company without all this extra tutoring.”

Gerald placed his own plate at the table and sat down. “What works for one may not work for another, Miss Clementine. Mr. Stark had to step into his role prematurely after the tragic demise of his parents. Had they lived, I assure you, he would have completed his education.”

Peter’s blush deepened, and I couldn’t help but smirk at his embarrassment.

When dinner was finished, Gerald collected the plates, and I packed up my things, returning a tablet I’d borrowed from Peter earlier.

“Why don’t you stay a bit longer?” Peter asked, his voice tinged with something hopeful.

“I need to get home,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction.

“Gerald made banana pudding? ” Peter teased, his grin widening.

From the kitchen, Gerald called out, “Best banana pudding you’ll ever have, Miss Clementine.”

I hesitated. Banana pudding was my weakness, but I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.

“I don’t know...”

Peter’s expression softened. “Look, I don’t mean to pry, but you seem miserable at the idea of going home. Stay here for a bit. You’re not doing anything tomorrow, right? And honestly... I really like the company.”

I raised an eyebrow, pretending suspicion. “Is it just my company you like?”

He flushed again. “Among other things,” he admitted with a sheepish grin, “but yes, your company is at the top of the list.”

I chuckled. “Fine. I’ll stay a little longer.”

The truth was, I didn’t want to go back. After a glimpse of comfort and care, home felt like the last place I wanted to be. And if Peter was offering me an escape, even just for one more night, who was I to turn it down?

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lxveuntold · 1 year ago

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descent to depravity | psh, cs (m)

summary: just when you think you have convinced yourself that the sinful creature who visited you all those nights ago was merely the product of a vividly erotic dream, he returns to you — and this time, he is not alone...

pairing: seonghwa x fem reader x san

genre: fantasy, smut

word count: 8.1k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: part two of these wicked delights; incubus!seonghwa; incubus!san; profanity; supernatural elements; slight religious elements; graphic sexual content; dubcon; d/s roles without proper safety or aftercare; threesome; dirty talk; oral sex (f receiving); unprotected piv sex; multiple creampies

author's note: rewritten for ateez and reuploaded from my old blog. meant to upload this on halloween but oh well. heed the warnings and enjoy y'all.

{ click here if you prefer to read on AO3 }

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It all ended in a dream.

Because it was never real. Of course it wasn’t. It was merely a strikingly vivid dream.

It had to have been.

That’s what you have been repeating to yourself in regards to the bizarre — and erotic — encounter you’d had with the mysterious, otherworldly creature months ago. It was both easy and difficult to write the experience off as some sort of demented fantasy brought to life during the worst dry spell you’ve experienced. After all, the dream has never once revisited your sleeping mind, despite plaguing many of your waking thoughts.

So when a wave of foreboding pinpricks trickles down your spine, paranoia makes you twist away from the bathroom sink to look behind you. Nothing seems out of the ordinary in your bedroom, however. There is no visitor sitting on the bed, nothing has been disturbed.

You close your eyes and shake your head, then resume brushing your teeth. But the tingles that linger at the start of your spine are just so familiar…

After you finish rinsing your mouth, you turn off the bathroom lights and shuffle tiredly to bed. Just as you pull back the covers to slip under them, you catch sight of two circular, red lights in the window from your peripheral vision.

It’s him, those are his eyes!

When you lift your head to get a proper look, the red glow has vanished. You step around your bed and up to the window to peek through the blinds, but the only lights to be found are the one reflecting off the rotund moon and the ones from the street lamps. There is nothing and no one to be seen — least of all a creature with eerie crimson eyes in the guise of a humanoid body.

You decide it was probably just some passing tail lights from a car and remove your fingers from between the blinds.

Switching off the bedside lamp, you do your best to push away the thoughts of the demonic being from your mind as you snuggle into your pillow. Your breathing and heart rate slow as you relax, lulled by the chirping of crickets and the occasional hum of car tires rolling by outside.

Just as you are finally sinking into slumber, something suddenly brings the hairs on the nape of your neck to attention. The pinpricks from earlier ripple over the entire expanse of your skin with greater force. Before you can roll over, your muscles are stiffened to total ineffectiveness, though the sound of his haunting voice would surely have frozen you just as effectively.

“Hello again, pet…”

The dehumanizing way in which he greets you is chilling, but you cannot shiver.

This is just a dream… you repeat your sacred mantra silently because your lips are sealed tight. This isn’t real…

“Ah. You wound me, child,” the creature laments in response to your thoughts. “I did not think it too terribly narcissistic of me to expect a warmer welcome, hm?”

“She is afraid,” drawls a second male voice, every bit as melodic as the first, “but not of you. Not directly. She is afraid to admit how much she truly enjoyed your last visit... and she is wondering who I am.” He reads and voices the question in your mind before it can even fully form.

“I have brought another of my kind to accompany me tonight, my pet,” the first one explains to you. “Think of his name as ‘San.’ Do you remember my name, child?”

You flinch again at the way he thinks of an adult woman as a child compared to his innumerous years, but not before your mind recalls the answer to his question.

Seonghwa…

He hums, seemingly pleased.

“You were right about this one being a desperate little thing,” the one named San muses. “The vibrations of her lust are remarkably strong for a human. I am curious to know if she is truly as sweet and supple as you claimed, Seonghwa.” The tone he accentuates on the name sounds like a tease, if you are not mistaken.

“You will still address me respectfully, novice,” Seonghwa bites back. “Especially if you wish to discover her sweetness for yourself.”

San does not seem to have any comeback for that and remains silent.

“I can sense that others of her kind have done the same in the time since I left her,” Seonghwa goes on. “There is a lingering stench on her skin that is not hers. Faint, but there, particularly between those supple legs.”

You feel your face heat up at the memories of your recent, meaningless hookups. You had been relieved to have finally quenched that previous dry spell with tangible encounters with real people, but the powerful creature’s tone fills you with a surprising sense of shame.

You try to gather your thoughts to form some sort of defensive explanation, but Seonghwa cuts you off.

“I am not upset with you for attempting to fill your baser needs, child,” he tells you almost soothingly. His voice is so sweet, so beautiful. “In truth, I am partly to blame for that. I told you our time spent together would take its toll, did I not? Our encounter has fueled the carnal desires I meant to sate, and now it is nearly impossible to sate them, isn’t it? You crave more and more. That is why I have returned and brought along another. Though San is younger and less experienced than myself, he is quite… voracious. And a quick learner. Between the two of us, you will never need to seek a lesser form of pleasure ever again.”

“Shall we begin, little one?” San asks without missing a beat.

A weight presses against your shoulder through your blankets, and you assume it is a hand. San’s hand, from the proximity of his voice. All of your movements and sounds are still constricted by the foreign yet familiar force held over you, however, and you are still rendered blind.

“She will not deny us, hyung,” the newcomer tells Seonghwa knowingly. “I know you can hear the blood thrumming in her genitalia. Her body is screaming for us to ravish it; there is no need to keep it bound. Release her. I want to hear her proclaim her wanton desires with her own tongue.”

Surprisingly, Seonghwa obliges the request, and a baited breath rushes past your lips the instant they loosen. You blink your eyelids slowly to allow your pupils to adjust to the scant light in your bedroom.

When you shift and look up, you recognize Seonghwa’s towering form standing in the shadows several feet from the foot of your bed. His black hair is swept back from his forehead, giving you a clear view of the eerie ruby eyes set in his ivory face, calmly observing you.

Next, you turn your head to the side to seek out your other ‘visitor.’ Your gaze first falls on the claw of a hand still resting on your covered shoulder. The fingers are slender and knobby at the knuckles; the nails are black and pointed. You feel heat swirl in your lower belly when you suddenly recall the way your inner juices had shone on Seonghwa’s fingers during your last tryst.

A hum of amusement draws your gaze upward to properly see the demonic figure looming over you, and you gasp softly at the sight of him. The fringe of his blond hair dangles into his crimson eyes; the orbs are a lighter, brighter shade than his elder’s. High cheekbones jut sharply out of alabaster skin. A tendon in his creamy neck flexes under your scrutiny. The thought that this could be Satan himself briefly flits through your hazy mind.

It is impossible to discern which of the two creatures is more beautiful.

San chuckles to himself whilst reading your mind, and the abyssal timbre of the sound — almost like music — makes you shudder.

“My companion is quite proficient at hearing unspoken thoughts, but he wishes to hear you speak your desires, pet,” Seonghwa says to you. “So, go on and tell us how desperate you are for us to use your body for our pleasure as we give you yours.”

“We cannot guarantee we will be gentle,” San inputs as a warning, “but all parties shall be sufficiently satisfied in the end.”

You look back and forth between the two hellish beings — taking a quick second to be thankful for having control of your body, unlike before — as you contemplate the situation. If these were normal men, there is no chance you would agree to this, no matter how good-looking they were…

Would you?

The mere presence of these beings makes you question your reality and your morals.

“Why does your mind dispute your body’s wants, little one?” San wonders aloud. He sounds genuinely curious. “Would you truly rather return to a slumber filled with fleeting, unfulfilling fantasies than have us drive you to the brink of madness one orgasm at a time?”

How easily your morals crumble from one salacious promise.

“Please...” you finally croak weakly.

San’s fingers tighten in the sheets. You wouldn’t be surprised if he has punctured tiny holes in the linen. “Please what?” he presses.

You lick your lips and utter, “Fuck me,” in a voice you can barely recognize as your own.

San finds something funny with your words and laughs darkly. “So crass,” he tsks, but sweeps the sheets from your body nevertheless.

In two swift, easy motions, he slashes your sleepwear to shreds, rendering you nude. The action startles you, and you automatically curl in on yourself out of sudden shyness.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Seonghwa tuts in disapproval. “Do not make me restrain you again, child. Be a good pet and let your master look upon what is his.”

He steps closer and coaxes your legs apart, not with unseen force, but with a manual graze of his large hands along the flesh of your thighs. His touch is light and frigid, and you shiver as you let your legs fall open. Once your center is visible to him, he traces the pad of his thumb along the outer circumference of your folds. There is a sort of reverence in his gentle touch.

From beside you, you notice San craning his neck to glimpse the view his elder is enjoying.

“San,” Seonghwa calls softly.

San obeys the unspoken command, moving to sidle beside Seonghwa in a motion so seamless he almost seems to glide across the floor. Your nerves tingle when both of their red gazes are fixed so intently on your naked pussy.

“You may proceed in discovering how sweet and supple our little pet is,” Seonghwa grants him, as though your body were his personal property to give away as he pleases. And of course he hears your silent (and justified) protest, because the next thing he says is: “Your body is my property, child. When I am here, I am the master, and you are the pet. My cohort and I will give you more pleasure than could ever be found behind Heaven’s gate, but on our terms. You must comply to our every whim because you are not in charge here, not even of your own body. Am I in any way unclear?”

His voice booms deeper on the last sentence. You meekly shake your head no.

Seonghwa hums and pats your thigh approvingly. “There’s a good pet. You may proceed, San.”

A wide, wolfish grin appears in the darkness below San’s glowing eyes. “Gladly.”

With that, he becomes a blur of motion from how fast he kneels to dive between your legs. His wide shoulders knock against your knees, and his fingers roam up your thighs to replace Seonghwa’s with a strong grasp. He drags you downward until your ass is even with the edge of the bed. When his nose nudges the folds of your cunt, he takes a moment to breathe the scent of you deeply, and your face burns hotter than you thought possible.

“Intoxicating, no?” Seonghwa asks as he moves out of the younger’s way.

“Indeed,” San agrees. His lips are cold but his breath is steaming hot as he ghosts over your sensitive skin.

Not another second is wasted before he pokes his tongue out to take that first anticipated taste of you. The muscle feels scaly and clammy, precisely the way you recall Seonghwa’s tongue. It is not entirely unpleasant, however — especially when it drags upward from the bottom of your slit to fit itself snugly between your petaled lips and inside your hole. The walls of your pussy instantly clench tighter at the sensation of being filled by the inhumanly long muscle.

“How is she?” Seonghwa — who has wandered up the side of the bed to stand at your side — asks. He busies an idle hand with one of your breasts, rolling and pinching the nipple almost absentmindedly. You automatically arch into his touch, and he smirks down at you crookedly.

San has to withdraw his tongue from your insides to murmur his response, “Even sweeter than you led me to believe, hyung. This one is quite a treat indeed. A sweet little flower.”

You can’t help but feel flattered by the compliment coming from the ethereally beautiful creature tonguing you in the most intimate of places.

Seonghwa grunts in satisfaction — and perhaps also a sense of validation — at his companion’s apparent enjoyment. The accompanied pinch he gives your peaked nipple sends a twinge of pain and pleasure straight to your core, and you are sure San is aware of the increased wetness pooling into his mouth. He starts licking wide stripes along your opening; back and forth, up and down. His actions are not done with much finesse, and the slurping sounds he is creating are more than a little lewd, but he does seem to be enjoying you, and having someone eat you with such gusto is a turn on of its own.

“Is he making you feel good, my pet?” Seonghwa asks, switching his ministrations to your other breast.

You nod and moan a breathy, “Uh huh.”

San seems to gain encouragement by your answer and begins mouthing at your pussy faster. His lips sweep against yours while his tongue digs deep. His actions are undeniably pleasurable, but you soon realize it isn’t enough when your clit is being neglected.

Seonghwa senses your mild frustration and speaks up on your behalf. “San, you selfish glutton, be sure to administer to her clitoris as well.”

“Her what?”

“Do you not remember? It is the small nub at the top of the human female genitalia that gives them great pleasure.”

San pulls back to study your pussy again. He quickly finds what he is looking for and brushes his thumb against it experimentally. You gasp and writhe your hips appreciatively.

“My apologies, little flower. Is that better?” he asks you in a tone both impish and honeyed.

You nod again and squeak out a tiny: “Yes.”

He directs his next words to Seonghwa. “Are you always this attentive to your pets’ desires during your time with them, hyung?”

“Of course. This one climaxed thrice when I last visited upon her,” Seonghwa says matter-of-factly.

“Hm. Well, we can easily reach that number with the both of us here,” San says. The circular motion of his thumb does not falter while he holds the conversation. “In fact, I am certain we will. My favorite part is watching them come undone and cry out for me as though I am their savior, after all.”

“It seems you still have quite some work to do on our little pet, then,” Seonghwa spits.

San grunts at the criticism, but rather than biting back, he returns his full attention to the task of undoing you. He bends to plant a rather kittenish kiss on the hood of your newly-found clit, then latches on to suckle at it. The graze of a sharp tooth elicits a gasp from you, and a succinct shiver courses throughout your body from the danger of having his fangs in such close quarters with a sensitive place.

“Mm, do not fear, little one. I wish to unravel you, not harm you,” San purrs. “Now let me hear those lyrical sounds spill freely from your lips.”

A whine issues in your throat at his words, but it is quiet and pinched. Hardly ‘lyrical’ at all.

“If you want her to sing for you, you have to make her,” Seonghwa says, unimpressed. He removes his hand from your chest to shove the younger demon’s face tighter against your center. His fingers twist in the blond hair. You can tell the action is far from tender.

As though a whip has been cracked, San groans and redoubles his efforts to gain the noises he so craves by adding a slender finger knuckle-deep into your dripping cunt. He curls it in slow but unmistakable ‘come hither’ gestures. The scratching of his jagged fingernail along your most delicate skin should by all means be painful, but it isn’t. Not in the least.

And you are by no means complaining.

“How did you ever fit inside of her, hyung?” San asks. “She is so tight around just my finger.”

“You will learn more of her tightness yet,” promises Seonghwa.

It does not take long for a trail of fire to ignite your nerves, sending your limbs twitching with pent-up energy and rising pleasure. The embers in your blood bring forth a thin layer of sweat onto your skin. Your breath comes and goes in shallow puffs as if your lungs have suddenly lost all holding capacity. Every hot, wet lashing the unholy creature’s tongue gifts you is a step you take closer to the brink, and the brink will soon be within tumbling distance.

Seonghwa, however, seems displeased by the rate at which San is building your climax.

“Do you consider this to be ‘unraveling’ her?” he hisses, fisting his fingers even tighter against his companion’s scalp.

San whines at the physical assertion bestowed upon him, and the vibrations of his sound travel through your center, all the way to the polar ends of your toes and fingertips.

“She is so easy, yet you are having to work so hard,” Seonghwa taunts. “Do better if you wish to achieve your own release tonight.”

The blond growls in determination. His response to his elder’s words is to bring the total number of fingers in your cunt straight to three. He does not push the additional two fingers in one at a time, but rather in a single forceful thrust of his hand. A shriek escapes you at the sudden stretch to your walls, soon followed by a long, low moan at a particularly powerful swipe over your pleasure point. Both demons hum, deep and satisfied.

“She sounds as heavenly as she tastes, does she not?” Seonghwa says, seeming much more proud now.

“A perfect choice of word, hyung,” San agrees with his tongue still around your clit.

“Keep going, just as you are,” Seonghwa urges, though it seems San has no intention of doing anything to the contrary. You can’t take your eyes off the crown of his head between your legs as he licks and sucks and flicks and strokes you into a frenzy. Your fists repeatedly clench and unclench in the sheets around you as every thought in your mind concentrates on that looming ledge.

“It’s ecstasy, isn’t it?” Seonghwa whispers to you now, and you whine something incoherent in response. He cards the fingers of his other hand through your hair as well, then fists them right at the scalp with a firm tug, just as with San’s. Except instead of pushing, he pulls your head further backward on your pillow to tilt your gaze up to his. His eyes are daggers under a coat of blood. “Isn’t it?” he repeats. His voice is not particularly loud, but the power of the question reverberates against the walls all the same.

“Y-yes, it f-f-feels so good,” you whisper, not daring to break eye contact.

“Mm, yes, I know it does. San is working diligently to prepare you for me, isn’t he?”

As though to verify Seonghwa’s claim, San thrashes his face back and forth in the juncture of your thighs with animal-like fervor. Seonghwa’s arm shakes along with the motion from where he still has a grip on the demon’s scalp.

“Such a good pet. A pretty little lamb, so willingly being devoured by the ravenous wolf,” Seonghwa coos at you, syrupy-sweet. “Let yourself come undone for him, pet. Give San what he so desperately craves. Come in his mouth.”

The casual yet inherently filthy way he uses the terms ‘come’ and ‘in’ is all it takes to fling you off the ledge and into your climax with eyes shut tight and a loud cry. Every muscle in your body pulls taut as a bowstring, and San opens his mouth wider just in time to catch the gush of wetness that bursts forth. The steady rumble of his groan — along with some softer strokes to your g-spot — helps your high taper off into a shaky yet satisfying finish.

“Oh my god,” you whisper under your breath when San finally removes his fingers and lifts his face away from your quivering, sensitive core. He looks downright devilish as he tongues his inner cheek with a smug smirk and hooded eyes. He seems proud of the mess covering his chiseled chin and cheeks, and he is looking at you as though he could devour the rest of you whole.

“God? He would never give you this much pleasure, little one,” San purrs.

Seonghwa chuckles and scratches the top of San’s head, equally proud of him. You vaguely register the tickling of his fingernails on your own scalp before he pulls his hand away from you to grab San’s — the one dirtied with your juices. The raven-haired demon takes the blond’s slick fingers, brings them up to his lips, and slips them inside with slow purpose. San does not resist the intimate act. On the contrary, you can just barely see the way his wrist moves with the way he presses his fingers back and forth against Seonghwa’s reptilian tongue.

Your mouth falls open at the display of pure eroticism, but you cannot find enough humility within you to close it again — especially when San pulls his fingers back with a wet slurp and pops his thumb into Seonghwa’s mouth next, unprompted. The two hellions lock eyes until Seonghwa has apparently sucked all the remaining residue from San’s last digit.

Only when Seonghwa finally looks back to you do you snap your jaw shut. He sneers at you and drawls, “Just as I remember: sweet as nectar.”

“She has had her pleasure. I want to take mine now, hyung,” San declares. You watch him reach down to palm at his genitals, and your eyes widen at the sight of his erection standing proudly out in the open. “I need to feel her wrapped around me.”

“You will...” Seonghwa sighs. He curls a hand around the back of San’s neck in a seemingly tender gesture, then uses his other hand to shove San away with impressive force. “...but not until after I have taken my fill of her, you selfish, impatient glutton.”

San rolls his neck and peels his back off the wall, staring coldly at Seonghwa. He does not argue, however. He just wipes the rest of your wetness from his face with the back of a hand and stalks over to wait at your side.

Meanwhile, Seonghwa takes up San’s previous position at the foot of the bed, and you shift upward on the mattress to prepare for his next move. He kneels onto the bed to follow your movement, then presses a hand onto your stomach to stop you when he judges you’ve gone far enough. His touch feels solid, but the mattress does not creak under his added weight the way you know it is prone to do.

“Not another inch, pet,” he murmurs. “Stay right there, just like that.”

He pries your legs apart again, and the tip of his sizeable cock prods against your inner thigh as he situates himself. The burn of his rigid flesh feels like a brand on your skin. You hiss when he lines himself up with your pussy.

“This may be easier than last time, but still painful, despite how drenched you are,” Seonghwa warns.

You nod in understanding. When he lifts one of your legs to wrap it around his slim waist, you take in a breath and hold it.

“Exhale, child,” Seonghwa guides you as he begins to ease himself inside.

You try to let go of your breath, but the reflex to hold it to cope with the stretch of his burning shaft is too much, and you end up gasping instead.

“Relax, little lamb,” San murmurs from your side, adopting Seonghwa’s new pet name for you. He returns his hand to your shoulder and squeezes. “Hold on to Seonghwa-hyung and breathe.”

You lift your hands up at once to find purchase along Seonghwa’s wide shoulders. His skin is buttery smooth, but the muscles beneath are rock hard. You were unable to touch him like this — or at all, actually — the last time, and you find your fingers roaming greedily. It is a good distraction from the pain coming from below.

If Seonghwa is bothered by your wandering hands, he does not show or comment on it. He simply continues feeding his cock into you, inch by inch, until eventually he can go no further.

“How does she feel?” San demands to know before anyone can do or say anything else.

“Like silken bliss,” Seonghwa answers, to which you tuck your head down shyly. One of his fingers hooks under your chin to lift your face back toward him so you can see his wicked grin. “Such a shy little thing. And yet here you lie beneath me, penetrated by me, desperately wishing me to pound you into this flimsy piece of furniture.”

“Yes, yes, I can hear her wishing that very much, hyung,” San says excitedly. “Are you going to oblige her?”

Rather than verbalizing a response, Seonghwa sways his hips backwards to withdraw a portion of his girth from you, then surges forward again. You barely have time to register the sensation of the jostling motion before he repeats it with a distinctly sharper snap. The wet slapping sound of the movement is every bit as erotic as the friction being created. His length easily reaches places inside you that other lovers can only aspire to. Every ridge of his bare shaft pulses tightly against your walls, making you mewl and squirm in no time.

“Don’t tear up our pretty pet before I have had the pleasure of her,” San adds. It sounds like a warning, a tease, and a whine all at once.

“I have not even started on her yet,” grunts Seonghwa. He peels your fingers off of him, and as he moves to pin your wrists above your head in a tight grip, the weight of his solid torso settles squarely upon yours. His skin is cool to the touch at first, but soon warms as it absorbs your heat. The movement of his hips has altered from jarring snaps to a deep, continuous roll. It feels as though his cock is quite literally stirring a second orgasm within you.

All the while, the unnatural creature keeps his deep ruby eyes on yours. It seems he wants to witness the exact moment your orgasm boils over, and you are certain it will not take long. The close proximity of his beautiful, marble sculpture of a face alone is enough to set fire to both your cheeks and your loins, as well as tug the knot in your lower belly tighter.

“She enjoys this angle, hyung,” San comments. His palm manages to slide its way flat against one of your cheeks, and his cooled touch is most welcome on your sweaty, burning skin. “But I can barely touch her when you are draped over her like this.”

Seonghwa smirks and says, “We can remedy that, if you are truly so impatient to join in.”

“Please. At least allow me to touch her as much as possible while you are tearing her apart.”

“Very well, but I will not cease taking my own pleasure for a moment.”

That is the only warning you receive before Seonghwa hoists you up with him. He stands at the foot of the bed again with his cock still sheathed securely inside of you. Your arms and legs reflexively wrap around his muscular body to keep yourself from falling, but his strong hands — and whatever otherworldly force he wields, perhaps — are more than enough to keep you upright. He uses those hands and that force to set you to moving along his turgid cock.

The shift in position does nothing to lessen the depth at which his cock reaches; if anything, it feels as though he is hitting even further inside of your soaked, narrow tunnel.

After only a few bounces, you feel San’s hands press firmly against your back and push you even closer into Seonghwa. His shove also forces Seonghwa to step backwards until it is his back that meets the wall this time, along with your crossed feet on the small of it. Immediately after Seonghwa connects with the wall, San connects with you, effectively sandwiching you in the middle of this most unholy union.

Seonghwa does not stop moving you up and down his cock. He keeps the pace he has set against your g-spot evenly. A wanton moan breaks through your throat at the sensation of all the sinewy skin and rippling muscles covering you front and back. San’s erection twitches against your lower back, giving away his own excitement at the situation.

“Mm, she likes this position even more, hyung,” he purrs against the nape of your neck. His hands circle around to trap your breasts in a tight grope. He pushes them close together, pulls them apart, tweaks your pert nipples; every fondle takes away just a bit more of what little breath you have.

Eventually, San’s fondling fingers slide their way down from your breasts, across your stomach, along your hips, and finally around to your backside where they help hold what flesh of your ass Seonghwa’s hands are not already covering.

“I know, I can hear her, too,” says Seonghwa. “Her other lovers are not able to ‘fuck’ her in this fashion, so it arouses her even more. I can feel her getting even tighter around me with every stroke.”

“Even tighter, hm?” San gently nips his razor teeth into your shoulder, and you can feel his lips curl against your skin. “That is because you like being stuffed full, don’t you, little lamb? Seonghwa-hyung’s cock is filling you up so well, isn’t it?”

It is all you can do to bob your head in agreement, since it seems your voice can only be used for moaning while you are pistoning up and down Seonghwa’s cock through no effort of your own.

“Your sweet genitalia is not the only orifice that can be stuffed full,” San goes on. “I have always wondered just how tight the hole on the other side is…”

For a brief second, you fear he will attempt to shove his well-endowed member up your ass with no further warning, but his hips do not move. Instead, he takes you by the chin and turns your head until you are facing him as much as your neck will permit with the angle, then taps against your lips with one of his fingers. You grant him entrance, and he lies his finger flat against your tongue.

“Lubricate it well,” he instructs into your ear, then licks the shell of it as though to demonstrate exactly what he wants you to do.

You dutifully flick your tongue around his finger, sucking on it until all you can taste on it is your own saliva. Only then does San retract his hand to drop it down below and probe between your jiggling backside where you cannot see.

In the midst of his thrusts, Seonghwa adjusts himself to stand straighter against the wall, then uses the full grip he has on your ass to spread the cheeks further apart and allow his companion better access. You hiss in a sharp breath when San hits pay dirt directly on the ring of your smaller hole.

“Breathe, little lamb. Just as before,” he whispers next, lush lips still caressing your ear.

You slowly let go of your breath, and San begins to push his finger past your rim. The continued up and down movement of his target does not deter or hinder him from plugging your anus. He wags his spit-slick finger back and forth inside your clenched ring of muscle as he goes. The stretch of it stings, but it is not as uncomfortable as the initial pressure of Seonghwa’s cock had been a moment ago.

In fact, you have never felt more lust-frenzied, mind-hazing pleasure all at once than you do right now, with a pair of strong hands cupping your ass, your thighs wrapped around a sturdy waist, a thick cock plunging through the walls of your cunt, a silky pair of lips trailing down your neck, another cock poking into your back, and the feeling of damnation in your puckered hole. Every nerve ending you possess has been ignited to an unquenchable pyre.

“The flower between your legs is tight, pretty pet,” San breathes, “but this sphincter of yours is at least doubly so. And hotter, too. It is a shame it is not also self-lubricating.”

An ambiguous-sounding groan rumbles through you, but every fiber of your being is in agreement with his words and actions, and San knows it.

Seonghwa knows it, too. Your eyes fixate on his beautiful lips as he drawls, “Yes, you like being penetrated front and back, don’t you, pet? Speared by my cock and skewered by San’s finger simultaneously?”

At Seonghwa’s words, San drags his finger down to tease shallow circles around your opening, then wiggles all the way back in to his knuckle. “She is loving it, hyung. Just listen to her trying to form a coherent thought right now; she cannot.”

Seonghwa hums in agreement. “Yes, she is so close to unraveling again. Just a few more thrusts against this sweet spot inside of her… and a little stimulation on the nub between her soft legs…”

San brings his other hand around to take care of the latter, tickling the swollen point between your legs the way he learned earlier as best he can while you continue to jostle up and down against Seonghwa’s hip bones.

“Are you going to release soon as well, hyung?” San asks. “Are you going to fill her?”

“Mm, yes. I suspect I can time it perfectly with our pet’s release,” bets Seonghwa. “It will not be long. She has just gotten even tighter again at the thought of being filled with my seed.”

He has barely finished calling you out before your orgasm hits, and it hits you like a freight train. Your toes curl and every muscle in your body clenches as a shockwave of pleasure detonates in your core. Your holes clamp down on the cock and the finger inside of them as you let out a shriek, sinking your fingernails into Seonghwa’s broad shoulders as he brings your body to a halt at his hilt. He lets out a booming moan of his own as his cock swells even more and erupts. A copious amount of hot liquid squirts against your cervix and lines your walls. Some of it leaks down around the plug of Seonghwa’s still turgid dick from the pull of gravity.

You let out a pinched moan as your climax spikes to its peak, then fall limp as a rag doll against Seonghwa’s frame with your forehead against one of his shoulders. San does not remove his fingers from your clit until your legs begin shuddering violently from the overstimulation.

“That’s it, my pet,” Seonghwa praises at the same moment San coos, “Such a good little lamb.” Both demons caress you as you pant heavily. Seonghwa’s hands massage your butt where he is still holding you up. You had almost forgotten San’s finger was embedded in your anus until he withdraws it and rubs your shivering spine.

You lift your head off Seonghwa’s shoulder, suddenly curious to see if he is any worse for wear than you are. He has some markings of being fucked-out: some strands of his hair have fallen out of place, and his hairline is slightly sweaty, as is his neckline and the cleavage between his pectorals. But he does not appear the slightest bit breathless, even after all his exertions in giving you the ecstasy you just experienced.

While you are still coping with the sheer amount of beauty before you, you are suddenly torn off and away from Seonghwa and tossed back onto your mattress by San. He retakes his earlier position kneeling at the foot of the bed. Without physically touching you, he drags your body down the mattress until your used pussy is inches from his face, then spreads your legs wide with firm hands. You clumsily prop yourself up on your elbows, scrambling to see his next move.

“You made quite a mess of our pretty little flower, hyung,” mutters San, cocking his head as he studies your sullied and swollen cunt. He sounds far from upset over this observation, however. In fact, you might even say he looks awed by your condition.

Seonghwa steps to the side of the bed and watches on as his companion appreciates his handiwork. Wordlessly, he dips a hand in front of San’s face and drags two slender fingers along your slit, and you shiver from sensitivity.

“So I have,” Seonghwa muses, unapologetic. He lifts his fingers to examine the tips of them shimmering with a pearly mixture of your cum and his in the moonlight. When he rubs his thumb against them as though to test the consistency, you are certain you have never felt more aroused in your life.

Thankfully, you do not have to voice your most vulgar, hedonistic desire in the moment, because Seonghwa hears you loud and clear. With a lopsided grin over your shameless thoughts, he brings his sticky fingers to your already parted lips and settles them directly on your tongue.

“So foul,” San breathes, sounding more reverent than appalled as he watches you suck Seonghwa’s fingers clean of your own free will. “Our sweet lamb will be wholly corrupted yet.”

Seonghwa draws his fingers from your tongue and slowly, so slowly runs them over your lips. You try to chase and recapture them, but he grabs your chin roughly. You flick your eyes to meet his, and his bloody stare sears you, body and soul.

“Take her,” he commands in booming bass.

The younger hellion is over you at once, pinning you to the mattress and feeding his steely length into your sloppy cunt in one smooth thrust. He grunts as he makes his entrance and bottoms out within the same second.

The cum inside you has barely had a chance to cool before it begins frothing from the incessant withdrawing and plunging of the new cock assaulting you. The excess leaks down your ass crack, but any discomfort you may feel from the unpleasant stickiness is overridden by the sparks rekindling in your blood.

From the pulses coming off the veiny shaft inside you, you get the impression that San’s blood may also be boiling. The notion that his riled-up state could be caused by you and not just a primal, carnal instinct makes your core throb tighter, however far-fetched it may be.

“He enjoys you,” Seonghwa confirms for you, tracing his thumb along your jawline. “He enjoys your scent, your taste. Right now he is swearing that your cunt is the tightest he has ever felt in his long life.”

San groans in agreement. His pace momentarily stutters as he redistributes his weight over you, and you marvel for a quick second at a bulging vein in his neck when he leans closer. “How is she still this tight after taking you, hyung? The pressure is divine. It makes me all the more eager to penetrate and get a proper feel of the vise that is her other hole, but I realize now that it would be excruciating for you, little one. Your wet little cunt will have to do for now.”

You give a silent prayer of thanks for the surprising consideration for the sanctity of your asshole. San chuckles lowly when he hears it but provides no further comment.

One by one, he takes both of your hands in one of his to lift your arms up from your sides and pin them over your head exactly as Seonghwa had done earlier. Without being prompted to, Seonghwa takes that hold on your wrists out of San’s grasp and into his own, leaving San’s hands free again to prop himself up and hover above you. The fringe of his blond hair bounces to and fro with every thrust of his hips. His eyes are cast down at your heaving breasts. His perfectly pink lips glisten with a clear coating of spit applied by a swipe of his lolling tongue. A muscle near his jawline briefly pops as he concentrates on achieving the release he has patiently awaited.

You long to stare at the heavenly yet sinful feast before your eyes forever, but your eyes are gradually rolling back into your head from the onslaught of his flared cockhead against your cervix.

Suddenly, San stops his hips altogether and pulls away to straighten his back. You roll your eyes back around in time to watch your feet hike themselves up into the air and onto his shoulders by his mystical power before he leans in closely again, essentially bending you in half as his torso presses into the backs of your legs. Your muscles burn with the unaccustomed stretch, but the languid roll of his pelvis against yours is all that is important. He grinds against your clit and your g-spot simultaneously, much to your mutual pleasure.

You arch your back at an especially deep press, but Seonghwa’s grip on your wrists keeps you from going too far. You turn your head to look at him and find him looking right back at you. He cocks his head and smirks when he listens to you wonder if he is enjoying simply watching the ‘show’ without participating.

“I do enjoy watching you, pet, but fret not; I will participate again in some capacity before the night is over,” he promises.

San pays no mind to your short conversation; he continues rutting into you, but his speed is not as frenzied as his pace from just a moment ago. The angle allows him to hit your inner pleasure point with ease, however, and he is keen on hitting it with each and every plunge.

You would say it is hard to tell which of you is closer to the edge… until all of a sudden, San lets out a bellow of a moan a mere second before his cock throbs even harder and discharges a long stream of cum, then another, and another, until the heat of it can be felt down to your bones.

He continues to grunt in deep baritone as the last of his impressive release dribbles out of him and into your clenching pussy. He gives a few last shallow thrusts, and as soon as his cock withdraws, his cum — along with whatever is left of Seonghwa’s cum combined with yours — trails out of you and onto the sheets.

The blond sighs in satisfaction and slides his fingers through his hair as he pulls away. Your feet fall from his shoulders and your legs slump to the sides. San closes his eyes and bites his lip as he recollects himself; he does not seem nearly as coolly composed as Seonghwa was after his climax moments ago.

By now, you are feeling much too exhausted to care that the two creatures did not bring you to the predicted three orgasms. Your body is a little numb, your vision is slightly blurred, and it feels like there is barbed wire in your head.

“Mm, you are a revelation, little lamb,” San murmurs huskily, breaking into your thoughts. He reopens his eyes to peer down at you, and when he finds you staring back at him, he grins and licks his lips again. One of his hands comes down to cup your chin and cheeks. He tilts your head back and forth, side to side, as though determining whether or not you are the one who is truly real after all this. Then he runs his fingers down the slope of your neck, between the valley of your breasts, over your belly button, until he reaches the mess between your spread legs and stops. The sharp tips of his fingers edge around your sticky, swollen folds.

“You have sullied our flower as well, haven’t you,” Seonghwa speaks up. It is more of a statement than a question.

Without waiting for a response, he releases your wrists and glides beside San to see for himself. His eyes drop down, and for the second time tonight, both demons are staring at your bare sex — except this time, it is in a much different state; the ‘after’ depiction in a set of ‘before and after’ pictures, you imagine.

San snickers at your crazed thoughts and latches his thumb onto your clit. “You make for a pretty picture, even in this state.”

“Especially in this state,” Seonghwa emphasizes.

“Wrecked...”

“...ruined...”

“...corrupted…”

“...debauched…”

“...depraved…”

Your mind flutters between a state of conscious and unconsciousness with each blasphemous word they spit your way. Your eyes fall closed as San accelerates on your slippery bud, rebuilding the pleasure he failed to bring to fruition while inside of you. But just as he reaches a tempo that will have you cresting in no time, his thumb is replaced by a pair of lips. You cannot bring yourself to see whether they belong to San or Seonghwa; your eyelids are leaden, and so is the rest of your body.

A couple fingers enter your weakly clenching core as a wicked tongue flits intricate patterns onto your clit. Hands roam along your thighs and hips; one of them reaches up to contour around your throat.

“Let go for us, pretty pet,” purrs San. His voice sounds faint and distorted, like your ears have been submerged in water, but you recognize that it comes from above you, not between you. “Let it all go...”

He sweeps that sweet spot at your center, and Seonghwa gives you one last suck to pull you over into the abyss. If you had any control of your limbs, you would clench your fingers in the sheets and curl your toes again, but you don’t. You can’t. You remain stiff as a board as a final row of pleasure washes over you. A moan swells in your throat beneath the fingers around it when it cannot pass your clamped lips.

Your mind is much nearer to the side of oblivion than wakefulness when you vaguely hear San ask, “Is there any hope left for her soul, hyung?”

The mouth leaves your quivering pussy with a parting kiss.

“For this one?” Seonghwa whispers with a light smack of his lips. “No, I am afraid she is beyond redemption.”

---

#seonghwa smut #san smut #park seonghwa smut #choi san smut #ateez smut #atz smut #seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa x reader #san x reader #choi san x reader #sanhwa x reader #ateez x reader #atz x reader #descent to depravity #lxveuntold

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palindrome-alt · 1 year ago

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Kieran Snippet (12.30.2023)

Pulling a chunk of obsidian flake from his satchel, he looked about for a good rock. Nothing too sharp, nor heavy, something sturdy enough to fleck the edges of his blade in the making.

Following the riverbed, he opted to remain alongside the pebbles so to keep his boots clean.

Conifer trees reached heights way above the brook he trailed, encroaching on the corners, greedy for space. Sharp needles poked out as teeth trying to snare his sleeves for refusing to walk in the shallows where crayfish and dewbugs skittered.

It was unusual, seeing these creatures.

There were no Pokemon here.

Much like you, they seemed missing from the surrounding wilds that eerily stayed quiet and chilling, unlike the forests he'd once snuck off to when he was a boy. He thought he was alone then. Now he hears the starving silence.

Now he knows what alone really is.

He knows what he did. You were friends. You were the only person in the world who would willingly throw themself directly into the portal bent on consuming him for his hubris, after he spent years clawing his way into Paldea's center like a monster that belonged in that hell crater. You took his place, and then you left him behind. All he wanted was a means to one up you, that whole time.

You wanted for nothing. The world willingly offered it up to you as he withered, always neglected. Always empty. He grew up, he grew old. It passed him by agonizingly slow. His hair unkempt and wild, he'd slice off with his new knife. Having been stuck in that lab for so long, he'd lost track of time and forgotten about the hair that almost dragged along the scattered documents strewn across the floor. Researcher, he'd studied at various universities for years. Anything for a scrap of knowledge. It was all just a ruse. His yellow slits for eyes should have blown his cover. Hands littered with white scars. He got them before he came here, long before, but he'd earned more after tearing through the fabric of reality with a broken machine to travel here. Now they were fresh, now they were aggravated. These hands have grasped and pulled at things they never should have ripped out of your hold. How they have betrayed you. The other world. It beckoned to him like his own once called to you. He didn't know. How could he? You never told him. You never acted like anything had been amiss. You were just so happy to be alive that he couldn't see what was wrong. What was different about you. Why everything insidious felt pulled to you like a magnet. Why he felt pulled to you with such fervor. Two sides of the same coin. Heads and tails. If this harsh world could birth something as pure as you, then surely even his gentle upbringing could spawn something as vile as him.

How something in him snapped at how you weren't satisfied, though you won against him in every category. Looking down at his reflection in the water, up at the colorless sky, he doesn't recognize the scruffy mass of hair that stares back at him. He feels around in his satchel for what little he has left. You never belonged here. Something beyond you both must've realized that too. But you didn't belong with him, either. Even if he somehow finds you, if he's even on the right continent, in the right place, in the right point of time, there's a chance neither of you can both return home.

Because logically, he knows. That two sides of the same coin can never face each other.

youtube

#pokemon #reader insert #x reader #pokemon universe #kieran x reader #rival kieran #obsessive behavior #isekai #forbidden love #descent into madness #snippet #pokemon x reader #history repeats itself #angst #good and evil #self loathing #Youtube

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darkenedreaper · 1 year ago

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New Writing

Alright gang.

Got some new fictions in the works for Ellen Ripley and The Descent.

I’m also gonna be releasing some new work for my new obsession; the one and only Laurie Strode from the classic Halloween film series.

As said I’ve got work due to come out but feel free to keep requests coming in.

I’m now writing for all the following:

Ellen Ripley (Alien film series)

The Descent girls

Laurie Strode (Halloween film series)

Severus Snape (Harry Potter series)

Hermione Granger (Harry Potter series)

Natasha Romanoff (Marvel)

#natasha romanoff #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #avengers #mcu #ellen ripley #sigourney weaver #aliens #ellen ripley x reader #alien #severus snape x you #Severus snape #snape #snape x reader #hermione granger x reader #the descent x reader #the descent horror

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monpalace · 1 year ago

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if i don't write about (mcd) garroth or laurance i'll implode

#(is going through the worst writers block of my life)#maj's descent #i'll just 🧍🏽#i hate tagging things holdon #mcd x reader #minecraft diaries x reader #mystreet x reader #aphmau x reader

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bitebitesnap · 1 year ago

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Something that interests me sometimes conceptually is yanderes.

Now I'm not a fan of them. The obsession, the downright horror vibes-it just bothers me..sometimes. There had been a few times where it's actually been kind of interesting, though it's usually because it's not super involved with making the Reader useless or just prey to be hunted.

But that aside, it's not the point, I was thinking about something.

Goku as a yandere would be horrifying.

And I'm not talking about his power. Technically, Vegeta is within the same range so it's not like it's much different from him going on a rampage. No what I mean isn't so much strength. It's reason.

Let's say Goku takes in what happened with Frieza and puts it to heart. Let's say the anger, the rage of becoming a Super Saiyan boils through to his core and changes him at the root-but also not quite. He's still the silly, goofy sweetheart everyone knows....but not quite.

Being on Namek during it's destruction taught him that he can't just let people go as easily. Just because they could be good deep down doesn't mean anything. If they have the chance, remote as it is, to turn on any of them then it's game over no matter how powerful they are. Maybe they aren't a threat to him, but to everyone else they could be the worst thing alive.

So he can't take that risk. Won't allow it to even take root.

He cuts off Gero before he can even release the other androids. Blasted to bits the minute he saw him. 19 went down too because he wasn't prepared to take the attack at full power.

Sure. A few buildings were destroyed, maybe a few people lost. But that's what the dragon balls are for right? And besides, he could feel the virus starting up so he had to act fast! Don't blame him for doing what needed to be done!

Cell is a surprise but not much more of a challenge either. Poor bastard barely got the chance to get away in his first form, and without the other two androids around to fuel his perfect form he had nothing else at all. Okay so some people got hurt in the fight but it's okay too! Dragon Balls, okay?

And without the Cell games, without his sacrifice...there's not much else to do now, is there? He's got nothing to fight, nothing to worry about. Sure he's got Piccolo and Vegeta so it's not like he's completely bored. Also, Gohan is getting seriously strong! He'd love to have a good spar against him when he gets older!

But....it doesnt'....feel quite right..

With nothing to fight, nothing is threatening his friends anymore. He should feel relieved, happy even.

So why does he feel like something is wrong..? Why does he feel anxious, afraid..almost like something is going to happen.

He kept a close watch on all of his friends, going so far as to intrude into their lives to make absolutely sure they were fine. He'd pop in at any point jsut to 'check in', he said, and when nothing was found and everything was fine he'd pop out. 'See?' He'd tell himself, 'Everything is fine. Don't worry about it!'

But he couldnt'...stop...

Simple check turned into hours long stalking. Stalking turned to obsessively watching over them at all hours, staying awake all night hopping between their homes. He couldn't count how many days and nights he'd been awake anymore. Only keeping track of when the sun rose and fell so he could go back to his home and watch over Gohan and you/Chi-Chi.

But it;s still not enough...! What was wrong!?

Then it happens. An inconspicuous little event that could have been missed by anyone had he not been so deranged by the need to keep an eye out for it.

A simple robbery. Not even a well planned out one, the robber had the bright idea to wander into Bulma's open window to steal a few pieces of her jewelry. It was so one-track and clearly idiotic that even she could have handled it.

But Goku was there. He saw it happen.

Poor bastard had no idea what was going on until he was several miles up in the air, dangling by his throat in the hands of a sleep deprived, wild-eyed Saiyan.

He knew of wars, petty battles between factions for something or another. Some part of him envied the rivalries humans could have with each other without running the risk of blowing up a planet. Being weaker, they had countless other's just like them to fight. No stagnation, always another challenge or threat right among their own.

Being himself, a Saiyan as powerful as he was, Goku never had to look down at them as a danger. His friends were strong, stronger than anyone like this little bug in his hands.

....Weren't they..?

His eyes harden, ignoring the squirming roach.

If they were...then why didnt Vegeta do anything to stop this attempt? Why didn't Yamcha?

Were there other infractions like this? Were they all ignoring it? Just letting it happen, right behind their backs where they could get stabbed just like he was when Frieza-

The crunch happens in the back of his head. His eyes watch the pest's neck flop over his fist but see nothing.

Quiet. It was quiet for the first time in a long, long while.

No noises catching his attention. No anxious energy driving him mad. No wild emotions left unchecked from exhaustion.

He was...calm.

Slowly he brings the body closer. The life force is long gone. No light blinks in the eyes. It's dead. Gone. No threat to anyone.

...Because of him..

And it clicks.

It doesn't matter if Vegeta didn;t get to him, he did. Yamcha wouldn't have fought anyways, he was a coward now and terrified of death.

But because he was here, he did. He caught the bastard. He ended the threat. He saved Bulma.

He saved her from something no one was looking for.

With everyone fresh out of a series of disasters centered mostly around the stars or his past, no one was focusing on the present. How could they? They'd been subjected to it for so long they'd grown numb to it by now. A simple robbery was nothing to them-less than nothing.

They were blind to an enemy they couldn't even think of anymore.

So he clenches the body's neck even tighter. Flesh engorges into a red mass in his palm but he ignores it. Even when the balloon bursts and crimson runs down his fingers. As meat squeezes out into and over his palm, the tongue forced out in a breathless gag.

He was their champion right? The strongest under the sun. The warrior who bested the worst of the universe, the tyrant Frieza, the android's maker, even the warrior built specifically to destroy him. He'd done it all. He'd do it a thousand times over if it meant protecting those he loved.

What was a few, measly little lives of a few bugs that dared to call themselves humans? Did their lives matter, even, if they dared to stoop so low as to be like the monsters he's conquered? Were they lives at all or simply dust under his heels?

The body is flung in a random direction. He doesn;'t care where it lands. His muscles are tight with renewed energy, mind clear and focused on a single, soul driven purpose.

He would protect everyone. He would destroy anything that got in his way. Be the wall between them and total destruction.

He was Son Goku the Saiyan, the warrior, Earth's mightiest protector. But if the Earth itself wanted to turn on anyone he cared about....

Then not even the Earth mattered to him anymore.

#another long ass ramble for y'all I guess #like I said yandere's aren't really my thing #....but sometimes #it's fun to think about #also I didn't mean to let this go on for so long because it was meant to be a small ramble about an idea and uhhhh #whoops #jawbones #goku #goku x reader #kinda #didn't really think about the reader insert side of this too much #had a lot more set up tbh #also working out how to make it about Goku's slow descent where his desire to protect his friends warps into murderous obsession killed me

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luveline · 2 years ago

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#i hate the steady descent line so ignore im gonna cut it ✂️#ghost au wip #!!#eddie munson x reader

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ridingtorohan · 1 month ago

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I've got a mighty need to write for the Alien fandom. If you have any requests, I humbly implore you to send them. 🙇‍♂️

#;;speak friend and enter #pinky promise im not done writing for mw #my brain is just rotting with rain and andy rn #ellen ripley my beloved #alien x reader #alien romulus #aliens #alien (1979)#alien romulus x reader #hell. give me xeno x reader idgaf #alien covenant #the entire franchise #even avp #gimme #alien isolation #only alien things i wont write for are the others game (avp game #fireteam elite and dark descent. i havent finished)

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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 2 years ago

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Invisible, tugging strings, Pt. 2

Happy Easter Monday!

When - Right after Invisible, tugging strings Part 1, which you gotta read first

We’ve made it to the Chupacabra episode of Season 2, y’all!

What - our mangy hick does his best to make it home after falling down the ridge twice and hallucinating You and Merle. Back at the farm where you are, you just want him back safe and want to know why. You. Are. So. Worried. About. Daryl?

Who - The Slowpoke Series means a slow cooking, canon-compliant Daryl x Reader. Daryl and Merle’s scenes take place in this one, and I can only hope I was able to do it adequate justice. I admire how the show did that part of the episode. We also have platonic Glenn, Dale, and big bro Shane.

Perspective - 2nd you, 3rd Daryl

Pronouns - neutral again, why not?

TWs - cussing, injury (and pictures from the episode showing Daryl looking nasty as well as some where Rick and T-Dog were sprayed with so much water to show sweat), and Merle’s dialogue is left word for word; he says the n-word. Two asterisks were used instead of spelling it. I ain’t writing that word.

Word count - same as Part 1 (give yourselves 15 minutes, 4,000ish words)

Stuff to read first - gotta read ’em all! It would help contextualize to first read A measure of reverence Parts 1 and 2, but you’ll be okay so long as you’ve read souls stripped bare and Invisible, tugging strings Part 1.

Why are so many of your stories two-parters? - it’s how it be, slowpokes

Are there many lame screenshots this time? - too many

Can I check out the Masterlist? - please do! There’s the official Masterlist here in purposeful nonlinear publishing (which also includes the Reader Requests), and the purely chronological one here. They both have the same Slowpoke stories, just in a somewhat different order :)

This is the third time uploading this one, y’all, and the maturity label (updated July 2023) was cleared about 8 times, but the algorithm keeps insisting it’s mature and reverting it back lol. When I got a human response from the help desk, they mentioned it was a glitch. C’est la vie, it’s kinda a bummer not more people will read this chapter, but it was still fun to write!

Happy Easter Monday!

As always, feedback in some way is very, very welcome.

...............................................

It felt so much better to keep his eyes closed, but someone’s standing over him now. Must be whoever Y/N said would help him get up.

What was that they said about ‘missing’ and ‘bully?’

He strains to get his eyes open so he can see whoever is above him. His eyelids feel so damned heavy, man, he just wants to close them again.

All he can see is the green of the treetops at first. The outline of a person’s head come into view once his vision stops being blurry. Then it clears.

A smile finds its way to the corners of his mouth. He’s missed him. Felt so lost and out of place without him. His own blood.

“Why don’t you pull that arrow out, dummy? You could bind your wound better.”

Yeah, that was him alright. He’s missed him so much.

“Merle.”

...........................................

And Merle’s got that grin that means he’s about to rib him. “What’s going on here? You takin’ a siesta or something?”

“Having a shitty day, bro,” he croaks back. If he was able to, he’d full-on hug his brother right now. Nah, for real, he’d hug him!

Merle smirks and shakes his head slightly. “Like me to get you a pillow? Maybe rub your feet?”

The comfort or whatever it was that Daryl had upon seeing and hearing his brother again starts to twist, only a tiny bit. He’s not super serious when he offers back, “Screw you.”

His big brother ain’t taking no lip, though. “Nuh-uh. You’re the one who’s screwed, from the looks of it.”

Ha, ‘screwed.’ Because the bolt is screwed in his side, funny stuff.

Daryl starts to grin through the pain at the stupid joke when his big brother lets this fly: “All them years trying to make a man out of you, this what I get?”

The tugging in his chest tries to pull him up as Y/N’s words come back and echo in his mind. “As lost as you’ve felt without him—when he bullies you, if-if you can’t stand up for yourself, please try not to believe the lies, okay? Cruel don’t mean true, a lot of the time it’s the opposite.”

Merle’s stare works its way up and down. Daryl feels like trash.

Gets called it the next second; “Look at you. Lyin’ in the dirt like a used rubber. You’re gonna die out here, little brother, next to your own puke. And for what?”

“A girl,” is all he can answer at first, it’s all that comes out. Before Merle can tell him he’s a whipped retard being lead by the dick if he was doing all this for some chick, he explains, “They lost a little girl.”

See, Merle? It’s worth it, it’s worth all of this. She’s just a little kid, her mama needs her. Remember her, the little scared girl, with the scared ma with buzzed hair? How much you wanted to shiv the dad’s potbelly?

But all his brother tosses back is “So you got a thing for little girls, now?”

“Shut up.” Joking about stuff like that ain’t funny, it’s messed up.

Then, he remembers it’s all in his head; Merle isn’t really here. Which means he’s the asshole dreaming up his big brother mouthing off like this. But the imaginary knee doesn’t wham his nards about it, because it’s…stuff his brother would say.

Doesn’t mean the guilt doesn’t knee him good regardless when his own blood reminds him, “’Cause I noticed, you ain’t out there looking for old Merle no more.”

That ain’t fair. “Tried like hell to find you, bro,” is all he can manage to voice out loud. But you were gone. Merle, I came back for you—where’d you go? Why’d you split, didn’t you know I’d come?

“Like hell you did,” his brother grates. “You split, man, lit out first chance you got.”

What? “You lit out. All you had to do was wait.” You didn’t trust your own kin. Is it that I’m not good enough or not smart enough? I could have saved you, and your damn hand. “We went back for you. Rick and I.” He finds himself nodding as much as he’s able, because he knows he did right. “We did right by you.” Even T-Dog tried to save your ass, bro. Even him, even Glenn.

“This the same Rick that cuffed me to that rooftop in the first place?” Merle points out. “Forced me to cut off my own hand? This him we’re talkin’ about, now?”

Daryl lowers his gaze as best he can – to see his brother’s hands both still attached. As he stares him down, Merle wiggles his pinkie as if to remind Daryl that he’s just part of his imagination, not real. Then his brother’s glare turns mocking. “You his bitch now?”

“I ain’t nobody’s bitch.” He loves his big brother, but goddamn, there’s no one else that can make him feel so small.

“You’re a joke, is what you are. Playing errand boy to a bunch of pansy-asses, n**gers, and Democrats.”

Another sharp tug in his chest. That word never really bothered him before, but it kinda does now.

And he can’t help but think of how much red Y/N would see at hearing Merle use it. They’d probably huff, start clawing, then after they’d calmed down, start griping about how damn cartoonish Merle sounded spouting that stuff. He can almost hear it now: “That whole sentence sounded like some lazy Hollywood type wrote a script for a ‘stereotype, blue-collar, Dixie racist,’ to make themselves feel good. Nobody talks like that, good Moses.”

Their words from earlier repeat in his mind again. “As lost as you’ve felt without him—when he bullies you, if-if you can’t stand up for yourself, please try not to believe the lies, okay? Cruel don’t mean true, a lot of the time it’s the opposite.”

Then, he remembers again that it’s all in his head; he’s the piece of shit cooking this up. All of this weird shit, it’s all from his messed up, trailer trash excuse for an imagination.

“You’re nothing but a freak to them,” his hears his brother tell him.

Maybe Y/N’s words were “cruel don’t mean true,” but that doesn’t mean ‘cruel’ is ‘dishonest.’ At least cold, honest truth is truth.

“Redneck trash. That’s all you are,” Merle goes on.

And Daryl knows it. It ain’t cruelty, it’s honesty. He’s got balls big enough to handle it.

Y/N’s words grow softer, sadder. “As lost as you’ve felt without him—when he bullies you, if-if you can’t stand up for yourself, please try not to believe the lies, okay? Cruel don’t mean true, a lot of the time it’s the opposite.”

His brother’s voice is louder, angrier. “They’re laughing at you behind your back. You know that, don’t you?”

Daryl knows that, too. No point in denying it.

…Except maybe a little. ’Cause Y/N wouldn’t, they’re an actual friend. “We make a mighty good team, just sayin’.” “Daryl, may I hug you again?” Nah, two-faced ain’t their style.

Carol wouldn’t neither, the woman’s too gentle for her own good. “Please be safe. I’ll be praying for you.”

Even T-Dog, that dude’s always been decent to him. So has the old man…and the boy…Andrea…Glenn…Lori, Rick, even Shane…

…And it’s as if Merle can hear those doubts. “I got a little news for you, son. One day, they gonna scrape you off their heels like you was dogshit.”

Merle’s right, he knows. He knows that he’s dogshit, he knows…he…he just needs to close his eyes, it all hurts less when his eyes are shut. His body feels so heavy…

The blessed dark takes over, and a voice that makes him feel safe hushes, “Honey, don’t die, don’t get bit.”

“Hey.” Merle jostles him back awake.

Wanting to do nothing less but knowing he’s got to, Daryl strains to open his eyes again. When his vision clears, he sees disapproval warping his brother’s face, just like he’d feared.

“They ain’t your kin. Your blood. Hell, if you had any damn nuts in that sack of yours, you’d go back there and shoot your pal Rick in the face for me.” With a nod, his big brother then bends down and takes Daryl’s chin in his hand. His glare turns worried and his eyes turn sad, even if the words coming from his mouth don’t match it.

“Now you listen to me: ain’t nobody ever gonna care about you except me, little brother. Ain’t nobody ever will.”

He knows. Without Merle, Daryl was always alone…he can’t keep his eyes open, they keep falling shut…

But his brother stops him from falling asleep again by gently tapping his chest.

In his tough-love way that Daryl’s missed, he finally sounds like he cares. “No, come on. Get up on your feet, before I have to kick your teeth in.”

Merle is standing over him now and gives his feet a light kick. “Let’s go.” He crouches back down and pulls at Daryl’s feet. “Let’s go.”

His brother goes too low for Daryl to see him without craning his neck, and something weird begins happening to his big brother’s voice. It’s fading.

Soon, all that Daryl can make out is a rasping sound almost as if there’s a dog by his feet. Maybe there is a dog at his feet, because something keeps pulling at them.

What if it’s a chupacabra?

Mild fear grips him and he manages to swing his head down enough to see what’s going on so he can close his eyes again.

And he’s met with a geek trying to gnaw through his goddamned shoe.

......................................

You

Back inside, you get another dose of dread so strong you feel like you’re hooked up to an IV line like Carl was a half-hour ago.

Daryl needs help.

“Y/N, are you gonna faint again?”

You smile and shake your head as you get a hold of your emotions and send up a prayer. “The caffeine crash after the espresso thing this morning is throwin’ me for a loop.”

“What’s it doing?”

“I just got sucker-punched in the gut with this random sense of dread.”

“Creepy,” he muses.

“Very.”

“And coffee tastes so gross.”

“Bitter, blackish-brown water tastes gross?”

He giggles, and the dread within you eases.

Keep him safe and get him home, please. Get our mangy hick back home.

......................................

Him

He’d fought off the one, then another made its way to him. He ain’t sure how he got the strength to do it, but he’s still breathing. No bites, neither.

He’s back on the ground, laying there and staring at the leaves and branches and clouds as he catches his breath.

Thank you, he offers to whatever might be up there. Thank you.

He doesn’t stay that way too long, the warm trickling from his side urges him to get up. Something in his head had shrieked at him to rip the bolt out. It ended up saving his life.

His fingers are numb and shaking from the adrenaline, but he’s able to sit up and re-tie the his ripped shirt to get the wound bound tight. He remembers how Merle’s (or were they his own?) first words to him were about getting it out.

“Son of a bitch was right,” he grumbles to himself.

Next, he stumbles over the the doll and secures it in his belt, then he stomps over to where he sees the green little walkie chilling on the water, slides it into his pocket after clicking it off and on and getting nothing.

Guess he’s on his own.

He’s so damned woozy, man, and his stomach’s ready to lurch again.

Food. He, um, he just needs food, yeah. He needs to find him a fucking, uh, something—a squirrel or something. Yeah, squirrel’s got blood in them, and he’s lost a lot of blood by the looks of it.

How does he do that again, get one of them teeny guys? Does he make a snare or like, shoot—wait, yeah, he’s gotta shoot one. Gotta shoot one of them slippery ’lil sumbitches.

Oh shit, yeah, first he gotta rinse off the bolts, haha. Hot damn, he feels so weird like he’s on a bad trip or hangover or some shit right now.

As for those two undead, poxy bastards what tried to do him in? Up theirs — he’s gonna slice off their ears like they was bounties and wear them, see if any more wanna mess with him!

......................................

You

“That was risky.”

“We did it for them,” you remind your brother of your middle sister’s family and the way you’d put them down given them their final rest, then buried them.

“They was family, and it was risky.”

“Today was just one last measure of reverence for a family who’d been put through hell at the end.”

“And now you’ve got an arm out of commission,” he states, clearly displeased. “Did you bury the ones who broke in, too?”

“Yes.”

Shane’s reaction to your affirmation isn’t what you are expecting. You were expecting more disapproval.

Instead, his eyes get wet and he pulls you close to kiss your forehead and says nothing else. He just curls his arm around your shoulder and gazes into the fields.

Your brother seems more like himself, now. You can see him again.

In the quiet, you listen to the mooing of cows in the distance, the flies buzzing, the chickens, the faint murmur of voices from the campsite and house.

“Shane? Tomorrow, teach me how to fight back even with my dominant arm out. So long as you button your dang shirt up tomorrow.”

Cracking up, he floofs out his (ugh) unbuttoned shirt to rub it in. “Deal, you got it. First reasonable thing I done heard all afternoon.”

“Now, be on your best behavior when I tell you somethin’, loser.”

Half-worried, half-teasing, he asks, “Well, what’s the somethin’, weirdo?”

You’re almost nervous when you quietly share, “We found something might could’ve been a sign of Sophia.”

He makes a sigh. “What might that could’ve been?”

“The shed had a small, hidden, makeshift sleeping area?”

He shifts. His brows push close. Turns his head to look at you. “You serious?”

“Dead seri—no, no, wrong phrase, wrong phrase!”

He just cracks up and shakes his head.

Then he says what you really wish he wouldn’t. “You sure it wasn’t from the kids who lived there?”

Shane, stop, please stop. You shrug his arm off. “There weren’t spiders in it, spiders would’ve holed up in there right quick, like within three days.”

“It’s something, I’ll give it that.” There’s a ‘but’ coming. “Y/N, even if she was there a day or two ago, it still don’t mean she’s still alive now. It’s been four days.”

“I know.”

Shane does a double-take as if he’s struggling between how to respond. “I mean, I hope she is, you know that, Y/N, I ain’t—” He licks his teeth and rubs his peach-fuzz. “But let’s be clear: riskin’ our necks for this will lead to more of the same. Carl was shot, Y/N, he almost died and you got bullet fragments right along with him, Otis is dead, you’re injured, T-Dog is injured, I’m injured—” He stops himself from whatever else he was going to say.

There’s a flock of birds soaring overhead. You gaze at them, them stare into space as you rub your chest again to dispel the fear that Daryl will be the next statistic.

“Y/N, I’m glad you got home okay.”

“I’m glad you did, too.”

He hums and looks over. “Where’s Daryl at?”

“He dropped me off. I-I wasn’t able to climb up the ridge, not with this.” You nod at your slinged arm and feel a twinge of guilt that you’re hiding your resewn sutures from him.

“Fool idea to go back by himself,” he mutters.

You don’t disgree. “I keep worryin’ about it.”

“Nah, don’t.” Shane wraps his arm back around you. “That sumbitch will outlive us all.”

At that, you can’t help but grin. “Probably.”

......................................

Him

This ridge is about to be his bitch! Just a few more feet, and he’ll make it to the top! (So long as he don’t screw up at the finish line like last time.)

All he needs to do is catch his breath, get some strength back. It’s like he’s floating in air but is made of lead at the same time. Weird shit, right?

Daryl turns to face out. The light kinda hurts right now, but he sees some birds. Almost smiles at them. If it were only that easy to get up and go huh? His body just ain’t doing what he wants it to right now.

“Please. Don’t feed the birds,” sounds from above him, snapping him out of it.

He turns to look at who—shit, Merle’s back. Daryl’s caught between wanting him and wanting gone.

Of course Merle would catch him taking a break and staring at birds like a little sissy instead of powering through, great. Real fucking great, now his brother’s laughing at him.

Go, go, go, get your lazy ass up there and show him — ow, goddamn, it hurts so bad!

“Aw, what’s the matter, Darylina? That all you got in you?

He tries to climb all the faster and harder. Screw you.

His big brother isn’t done. “Throw away that purse and climb.”

As Daryl does his best to get a strong grip on the roots so he can hoist himself up, something within him breaks and reverses. He’s just so tried, so dizzy, so nauseous, in so much pain and so angry. “I liked you better when you was missing,” he rasps.

Merle just snickers. “Come on, don’t be like that. I’m on your side.”

Bullshit. “Yeah? Since when?”

“Hell, since the day you were born, baby brother. Somebody had to look after your worthless ass.”

The string in his chest tugs, hard. “As lost as you’ve felt without him—when he bullies you, if-if you can’t stand up for yourself, please try not to believe the lies, okay? Cruel don’t mean true, a lot of the time it’s the opposite.”

If there’s one thing he hates, it’s lies. And he sure as shit knows Merle did not look after him or his worthless ass, he’s got the scars to prove it. “You never took care of me,” he grits out, using a root as a foothold and a thick, woody vine as a grip to climb. “You talk a big game, but you was never there.” Then, he remembers, “Hell, you ain’t here now. Guess some things never change.”

“Well, I tell you what: I’m as real as your chupacabra.”

“I know what I saw!”

“And I’m sure those shrooms you ate had nothin’ to do with it, right?”

“You best shut the hell up!” Daryl shouts back, so angry and he-doesn’t-know-what-else that the searing pain in his side and head meld into a dull thumping.

His brother who isn’t even there starts to mock him harder, laughing at him and mimicking his voice. “Or whaaaat? You’re gonna come up here and shut my mouth for me?”

Damn right, I will. Gonna kick your teeth in.

“Well, come on and do it then, if you think you’re man enough.”

Stop laughing, jackass.

“Hey! Kick off them high heels and climb, son!”

Come on, climb! Get your ass up there, shut him up!

“You know what? If I were you, I’d take a pause for the cause, brother. ’Cause I just don’t think you gonna make it to the top.”

He keeps laughing, make him stop laughing. Daryl lunges upward and reaches for the summit so enraged he can barely think straight.

Or maybe he just can’t think straight right now?

“Come on, come on, little brother,” Merle coos, holding out his hand as his strange, creepy laughter abruptly stops. His expression turns icy. “Grab your friend Rick’s hand.”

For real, maybe Daryl can’t think straight.

Or see straight. Because he finally got his ass over the ridge, but where the hell did his big brother go? Did Merle light out again, run off? Huh?

Fucking typical!

He can’t seem to keep his balance as he screams into the trees, “Yeah, you better run!”

......................................

You

It’s sunset, where the heck is he? All around the treeline and road where he’ll most likely be riding back, you scour through Dale’s binoculars. The walkie has still proven useless, he hasn’t answered.

“Daryl’s spent a night out by himself before.”

Not since the quarry, though, Andrea. “You’re right. He’s prolly fine, I know, I’m-I’m in a weird mood today.”

For some dumb reason, you want the med bag. Cautiously climbing down the RV one-armed, you reason that maybe you’ll feel more in-control of you’re holding it? And you’ll grab Andrea the bottle of sunscreen while you’re in there.

You begin to knock on the door, but the door as well as Glenn bang into you before you’ve knocked twice.

“Ow!”

“Shoot, sorry, Y/N! Did I—did I just make your stitches worse?”

“Shh!” you hiss as quietly as you can. “Shane’s right over there!”

“Kiddo, are you alright?”

Pressing your finger to your lips to tell Dale it’s fine, please stop, you mutter to Glenn, “The door rammed into my bum shoulder, which is directly over them.” And it smarts bad, like, what the hell, man? “You really stormed out of there without noticin’ a body in front of the door?”

Your friend covers his face with his hand and whispers several apologies within the course of a few seconds.

“Glenn, why does Dale look like he’s trying not to look upset?” you challenge. You’re still roiling after he whammed into your bad side, and seeing Dale upset was even worse.

“I was just returning that crappy book and I—” Glenn gets quiet. “—I-I told him about Maggie,” he confesses under his breath.

Great, more drama. “Well, I’m just here for the med bag and to grab some sunscreen for Andy,” you mutter. It doesn’t come out remotely friendly, not when your injuries just got whammed in the exact spot they ache.

He apologizes again, you check yourself and forgive him (and call him a buttface). He calls you a bumpkin, which makes you snort even while you’re feeling huffy, and he walks toward the tents.

Rubbing the tugging part of your chest that hasn’t let up for at least 20 minutes now, you accept the med bag Dale was kind enough to grab for you. “Should you be carrying that, Y/N? It’s on the heavier side.”

“I just feel like I should be holdin’ it, I dunno.”

He raises his brows but doesn’t protest. Then they furrow very low on his face and he asks, “You seem like you’re becoming friends with this Maggie.”

“It’ll be okay, Dale.”

His brows lift again briefly before resting in a normal position. “I’m simply glad that you seem to have a kind of rapport with the family here, a, um, mutual friendliness.” He gestures out the window. “It is a very good thing when our situation, however short-lived it may be, is somewhat delicate.”

“We’ll all turn into friends soon enough. You’d really get on with Mr. Greene.”

“Because we’re both old men?”

“Mhm, antique.” You shoulder the med bag on your good side and catch eyes with your brother. Shane mouths “Why do you got that?” but you’re unable to respond because Andrea suddenly shouts, “Walker. Walker!”

The surge of adrenaline shivers into your body and you peer at the treeline where she’s pointing.

This hasn’t happened here yet.

Then the words Patricia asked a few hours ago come to mind. “Any walkers you find on our property, tell us. Don’t do nothing, just tell us first.”

“Shane, don’t put it down, we need to get Mr. Greene.”

“Huh?” is his only response as he limps toward the pickaxe resting against the tree.

“Just the one?” Rick you hear call to Andrea.

“I bet I can nail it from here.”

“Andrea, don’t! The Greenes have a rule about it,” you shout at the same time Rick is telling her, “No, no, Andrea, put the gun down.”

“You best let us handle this,” Shane calls with too much cockiness confidence as he limps away.

“Shane, wait. Hey—” The kettle starts to simmer inside you.

Rick places his hand by you in support. “Shane, hold up! Hershel wants to deal with walkers.”

“What for, man? We got it covered.”

“Shane!” you shout one final time before saying to Rick, “I’ll run and get Mr. Greene. Go with them.”

“Thank you, Y/N!” he breathes, and takes off like a shot to join your brother, T-Dog, and Glenn as they run toward it.

So much unnecessary drama over one walker, good Moses. The host says let him handle it, why is that so complicated?

You book it to the house, regretting it immediately because pain seethes with every step. But you and Glenn are the fastest, so you’re using what you have in order to help.

“Miss Patricia!” you yell as you sprint closer to the porch. “Mr. Greene? Maggie, Jimmy, Beth, whoever can hear me!”

Lori and Patricia hurry outside, you tell them what’s going on, and immediately point and start racing even faster to catch up to where the others are charging.

As you plow through the pain, med-bag still on your back, you get a horrible flush of terror.

The tugging in your chest wrenches forward.

That’s Daryl.

That’s the way he moves his arms when he walks, there’s the tattoo he has on his inner arm, there’s his crossbow!

He’s, he’s got on just his undershirt, now, but — oh my God — “No, stop! It’s Daryl!”

......................................

Him

Why are those assholes stampeding over? The hell they want? They wanna mess with him? Huh?

But—the fast one who’s taking their sling off, racing up behind the four in front…

Is that the one who just shouted his name?

He knows that voice. He likes it.

Psht, but look at the shirtless chest-shaver over there, limping with a pickaxe. And the big, tall, black dude? Homeboy planning on playing baseball, or what?

And was it the scrawny Asian kid with the wrench thing who just asked “Is that Daryl?” There some other redneck here who looks like me, or what? And why do you care, huh? You gonna laugh at me, Data?

But the one he likes looks into his eyes and says “Honey, what happened to you?” in a way that makes his chest feel all—what the hell is happening with his chest, it’s like it’s being pulled. Makes him lose balance even more than he was, shit. And why is the one he likes all teary eyed, too? Who messed with them? ‘Cause he’ll straight knock down whoever messed with them.

Goddamn, why are these guys here, what the hell is going on—they want a show or something? And what’s the deal with the curly-haired, pale pretty-boy with the extra-long revolver? Three guesses what he’s trying to prove.

Wait—Rick. That’s Rick. The one who chained Merle. He’s reason Merle’s gone.

Daryl notices that fast one, with the voice he knows and likes, who made his chest go funny —oh, that’s Y/N!— has a hand on Rick’s shooting arm, but that’s because fucking Rick is aiming a gun straight at his head again.

Already chased off one Dixon, now going for the set, huh? Do your worst, bitch.

“That’s the third time you’ve pointed that thing at my head,” he barks at him. “You gonna pull the trigger, or what?”

What’s weird is how before he was even done barking at Rick, Y/N exhaled all heavy and started grinning all big and coming toward him.

It’s okay, though, Y/N can come closer. He knows they’re safe. He doesn’t get why they’re teary and smiling at him, but he likes them.

The strong guy with the baseball bat is smiling at him, too. Hold it, why are—why are all these dumbasses smiling or hunched over and catching their breath, what the hell’s the ma—

......................................

You

The bullet went through your chest before it hit his head. The pain was so intense and your horror so deep, that you weren’t able to make a sound.

Or was that your own cry you heard so loudly right before Shane yelped your name, then Andrea’s?

It’s strange how despite being shot, you were still able to crawl to Daryl.

Rick’s screaming “No! No!” blends with your pulse in your ears while you beg and pray and demand that Daryl did not just get shot in the head and killed.

There wasn’t the familiar numbness that took over you this time, it’s-it’s rage.

This morning, you’d seen Daryl’s very soul. All afternoon you’d been filled with a horrible dread for his safety because he wasn’t with you and that felt wrong for some reason.

Then, when he finally came back, you’d all thought he was a walker, and for those gut-wrenching moments as you ran toward him, you settled yourself for the worst.

Was all of that to prepare you for this moment?

To be filled with relief that he was back and alive, only for you to have a hole ripped through your chest as he got shot in the fucking head in front of you?

No. That’s not how this goes, that’s not how this works, no, no, no, he needs to be alive!

......................................

Him

What the…hell…

That was a gunshot he heard before he fell back and felt like the spot above his temple caught fire, right?

What’s weird is Daryl saw the sumbitch stop aiming...

There’s a gentle, warm thing on his chest and on his cheek. He can sense someone bent next to him, someone familiar. They smell good. He feels whatever landed in his mouth being taken out, some kinda string? Now it feels like a hand on his cheek and his arm.

Something then presses against his forehead. He’s pretty sure it’s the safe person again. There’s warm air, too, he can feel their breathing. Feels weird, but an okay weird. Some drops of warm, wet stuff then fall on him, the thing pressing his forehead lifts off, and a soft, squishy thing pushes against it for a second.

The voice he liked that made him feel safe, um, Y/N, that was Y/N’s voice, they’re saying something but he can’t make it out.

Now he’s being—ow, ow, he’s being lifted up, shit, it hurts!

He open his eyes.

Sees an angel his friend. Y/N.

The tugging in his chest stops. He’s home.

The rush from getting shot aside, he can finally let his eyelids droop shut.

There’s a whole bunch of commotion. Footsteps running toward him in the grass. A higher pitched voice shouting “Oh my God!” and another crying, “Rick!”

As the two people who lifted him get their arms under his shoulders and start to support his weight, he hears the voice he feels safe around say “Careful with that side, Shaney, he’s got some kind of bandage there, it’s soaked,” and “Rick, I’m gonna lean his head on you, okay? It’s opposite the graze and the other side feels like he got smacked already, there’s dried blood.”

Well, if Rick is here, Daryl figures he might as well joke, “I was kidding,” to make up for barking at him.

Y/N’s giggle that they make after hearing a dumb jokes is that last thing he hears as h……

......................................

You

“Oh, buddy—guys, he just passed out,” you tell Rick and Shane, the thankfulness and pure relief within you making you feel like you could burst or float away. Between every thought of what care he needs is thank you, thank you, thank you! He’s home.

You press another kiss to his forehead before Shane and Rick start moving too fast.

Andrea’s distraught cries reach your awareness, and she stops repeating “Oh my God!” to ask “Is he dead?”

“Unconscious. You just grazed him,” is what Rick answers, and angrily, too.

“Y/N, did you get grazed, too? I saw you fall!” she panics.

Which is when you realize the pain in your chest has vanished. You forgot all about it, in fact.

You look down.

Dude—okay, you aren’t bleeding? That’s good, but what just—you could’ve sworn you’d been shot when he fell. Seriously, you figured the bullet went through you, too. But, looking down, no. You aren’t shot, aren’t bleeding, you have no more sensation that your chest was cracked.

All you feel now is, well, the burning ache where you’re restitched, and your darn shoulder that you undid the very tricky-to-untie sling that Patricia secured that was specifically to avoid you taking it off (hey, you needed both arms when you reached Daryl).

You have no idea what happened to have made you imagine it, but you don’t care. He’s back and breathing. He’s home.

“But look at him,” Glenn pants. “What the hell happened?”

You wish you knew. “We’ll find out when he wakes.”

“But what about—he’s wearing ears!”

Oh, Moses, those are ears on the string around his neck. Ew! What the fuck?

You catch eyes with Rick and glance at it to relay “get it off!” then look away because your stomach won’t let your eyes linger on it, it is so vile. “I’ll hold his head steady.”

He nods, and once you’ve got Daryl’s head cradled in your hands, he rips it off. “Let’s keep that to ourselves,” Rick stresses to the group.

“I’m gonna run and tell Mr. Greene and Miss Patricia what’s goin’ on,” you say, then hurry toward the family, Lori meeting you halfway and taking the med-bag off your shoulder.

“Guys,” T-Dog speaks up from the back.

Lori makes a small gasp. You turn.

He’s holding up — Eliza’s ragdoll. The one she gave to—

“Isn’t this Sophia’s?”

----------------------------------------------------------

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